DESCRIPTION: At your cousin's baby shower, you're bringing a partner to meet your family for the first time. It turns out Jack Abbot is the perfect person to bring.
WORD COUNT: 3k
WARNINGS: FLUFF. TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF. Age gap- not specified but big enough to be noticed. Established!relationship. Reader's family is slightly judgy at first. Jack Abbot gets baby fever. Talks of potential kids (though unlikely). Talk of marriage.
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It was an early morning. They had a long drive ahead of them to their first extended family function of Y/n’s. Jack buttoned up his polo shirt and did that little head tilt he did when he wanted clarification on something. His upper lip curled.
“Whose baby shower are we going to again?
She chuckled as she pulled up the straps on her little blue spring dress. Ornate flowers ran up and down the fabric. She had researched what to wear to a baby shower and figured this was nice enough without overshadowing the mother-to-be.
“My cousin Sandra, remember?”
His brows furrowed, “Are we… close to this cousin?”
She blushed at that. ‘We’. ‘We’ as in her family was his, and his was hers. Granted, he didn’t have much family left these days. But she appreciated him including himself. They had been dating for a little over a year now, and while he had met her parents, he hadn’t met any of her extended family.
“Not really, but I still wanna support her. Can you zip up my dress, dear?”
He chuckled a little to himself as he strutted over. His fingers hung on the zipper for a moment.
“I much prefer to zip it down.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smart ass. We don’t have the time for that.”
“You’re underestimating how quick I can be.” He murmured but obediently zipped her up. He patted her hips, looking up at their reflection in the mirror that hung on her closet. “You look beautiful.”
Her face fully reddened, and she shook her head gently, “You’re crazy.”
His face contorted as if she had just said something so incredibly offensive. His hands glided from her hips to across her stomach, so she was more in a bear hug as he leaned his head against her shoulder.
“I’m not at all. I’m saying the truth.”
She gave him a pity chuckle and looked down at the floor. He turned to look at her now, not in the reflection. And his real-life gaze was much more intense.
“Hey… what’s got my pretty girl all like this?”
With a little scoff, she waved it off, trying to seem nonchalant.
“I’m fine. It’s just my cousins will all be there, and they’re… literally models. I mean it. Like one of them is as a profession. And they always bring their boyfriends, so this is the first year that I’m…”
“Bringing someone.” He slowly nodded. “Is there anything I should know, baby?”
She shook her head, “Just that they may be a bit judgy because of the… you know…” she put her face in her hands, worried to admit this.
“The age gap.” He chuckled, “Baby, I already expected this. And when it comes to your cousins being models, who cares? You’re so beautiful. Comparing apples to oranges.”
He planted a kiss on the crook of her neck and squeezed her hips reassuringly.
Walking up to the little blue house, Jack held the big gift bag, which carried a quilted play mat, and he held her shaky hand with his free one. The door was wide open, so they peeked their heads inside. The sound of chattering and laughter drifted from the backyard. Inside was covered in lacy, frilly decor. It looked as though the baby section of the department store had exploded. With blue bears everywhere, it was safe to say that it was going to be a boy.
At the sound of Jack shutting the door, Sandra walked through the kitchen holding her swollen stomach. Her eyes lit up.
“Y/N! My goodness, it’s been ages. You look fantastic!”
“I can say the same to you! Congratulations.”
Jack held up the present, “Where can I put this?”
Sandra’s attention drifted, and her mouth stayed ajar as she processed for a moment. She suddenly seemed to remember that it was rude to stare at the handsome older man in front of her.
“Oh- just on the dining table.” She made up for it with a smile.
Jack nodded with an awkward no-teeth smile and shifted through the entryway to place the gift on the table overflowing with tissue-papered presents. Sandra watched him, then looked over to her with wide eyes. She mouthed a quick ‘wow’ before going,
“Is this your…?”
She smiled proudly as Jack started making his way back over. “Boyfriend. Yes. This is my boyfriend, Dr. Jack Abbot.”
He chuckled and scratched his neck as he reunited with her side.
“Quick braggin, sweetheart.” He put his hand out to Sandra, “Hi. Congratulations.”
Her cousin shook it and looked between the two.
“A doctor! Wow, Jesus. Grandma’s gonna love him, huh?”
And in that moment, she realized that this wasn’t going to be bad at all. This was actually going to be so completely and utterly perfect. For the first time in her entire life, she was going to prove that she was just as beautiful and capable of having a perfect boyfriend as her cousins and relatives.
After some awkward introductions, Jack felt stiffer than usual. He tried his usual charisma, and it worked for the most part. Her grandma certainly was all over him. But there were a few weirded-out glares and stiff conversations from her older cousins and relatives. They all certainly fit her description. They had a ‘better than you’ air around them that would suffocate Y/n’s welcome until he showed up behind her like a guard dog. Then it would completely dissipate when he’d introduce himself and tell them he was a doctor. They were then left with an overall feeling of suspicious approval.
As he sipped a beer, he sat with some of her uncles who were closer in his age range, though still older than him. He managed to win them over a little more by discussing his military service. Though he refused to reveal his leg. It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed by it. But the attention was already heavily on him, and he’d rather not take any more of it. Though as they sat in the heat, he was starting to regret the choice of khaki pants.
The other men talked about the football season starting up in September, and Jack didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. So instead of trying to pretend he cared, he let his eyes drift over to his girl sitting on a patio chair. She had been dragged by her youngest cousins to go play with them across the yard. He watched as she held a one-year-old girl in her lap while talking to a little boy who couldn’t be more than nine. She was a clear favorite, considering the kids didn’t seem to bother any of her other cousins, who were much too busy with their own boyfriends. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled and laughed at the boy describing a scribbled drawing to her, the construction paper crinkled. It was as if she was genuinely interested in whatever nonsense he was probably spouting.
His heart clenched. It had to be the baby shower theme. It had to be the decorations and the ultrasound pictures and the constant talk from the women in her family. But seeing her with the kids was making him feel something dangerous. He knew he couldn’t have kids. Not at 50. But Jesus, did the sight of her brushing that little girl's hair through her fingers make him want to change his mind.
Suddenly, she pointed at him, clearly distinguishing him to the kids in front of her. They were talking about him. He broke out of his thoughts and pointed to himself with raised brows. She laughed and waved him over to the other side. Part of him felt guilty for not excusing himself, but he wasn’t about to ignore this for some stupid talk about ESPN hosts.
He walked over and crossed his arms with a playful arch of his brow.
“My ears were burning. Now who’s talking about me?”
The little boy grinned and pointed to Y/n. “She was!”
She gasped, “Jax! You asked who he was. You can’t throw me under the bus.”
“Well, who am I then, Jaxon?” Jack asked lightly
He shrugged and knelt down by the patio table. He put his paper down and returned to a set of sprawled-out crayons.
“An old guy.” He said innocently
Ouch.
She lightly smacked Jaxon’s shoulder, “Hey. Be nice.”
The kid smirked, and the little girl on her lap gurgled a laugh. Suddenly, another little girl appeared. She had been slowly making her way over, wringing her hands in her dress. It was clear she wanted to be with her cousin, but was also hesitant about the older man there. Y/n waved her over.
“Hi, Janie.” She said in a much softer voice. A much different voice than she had with Jaxon.
“Hi.”
“Let me do introductions.” She said, looking between everyone, “This is Jaxon, Janie, and their little sister Judy.”
Jack smiled, “A lot of J names around her.”
Janie nodded and looked down at the floor. Jack decided the best course of action was to squat down and sit by the patio table as well. Though his good knee let out a slight crack as he did so. Janie looked at him, suspicious, but didn’t run away.
“Well… It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Jack.”
Jaxon looked up from his paper with wide eyes, “YOU HAVE A J NAME TOO.”
“That’s right.” He nodded and snuck a look at the Transformer that the boy was drawing, “Look, I’m new here. So how about we make a J name pact?”
Jaxon’s face contorted, “What’s a pact?”
Y/n chuckled as she grabbed a small bowl of Cheerios to let Janie snack on in her lap.
“A pact is like a promise.”
Jack nodded, “Like a promise. That us J names have each other’s backs, alright? I need some protection. People watching my six.” He pointed to Janie, “You included. I need all the help I can get.”
Janie giggled at the idea of her protecting him. “I can’t help. I’m too little.”
“Sure, you can. You’re the toughest person here.”
The kids giggled, and Y/n smiled at the interaction. She didn’t know Jack was so good with kids. She knew he dealt with them at work time to time, but she had never witnessed him in action. And he was somehow charming her little cousins, who usually didn’t trust too easily.
Judy cooed and reached her hands out, and Jack gave her a little side eye.
“She’s a close second.”
Soon, the kids were all over him. He hadn’t realized that his girlfriend was basically the glorified babysitter at these events until now. Jaxon was clinging to his good leg (thankfully). And Janie was bossing them around on how to play this game, which Jack was having a hard time telling what the exact rules were.
Y/n sat busied with doting on little Judy. She watched Jack with a heart so full, knowing Jack was probably being drained a bit by the kids. Though he was doing the exact same to them, and their mothers would be thankful once they were napping on the car ride home.
Her aunt called the kids to eat some real food, and they begrudgingly started to calm down. Jack ruffled Jax’s head.
“Go eat. You need protein to beat the lava monster.”
With that totally sound logic, the kids practically booked it to grab a plate from their mom. And Jack limped back to his girl and sat next to her, Judy still in her lap. He winced and rubbed at the back of his prosthetic knee where skin met silicone.
She reached over and rubbed his shoulder, “Your leg bothering you?”
He shook his head in a ‘so-so’ manner, not wanting to worry her.
“It’s just sweaty, and when it sweats, it starts to chafe.” He grimaced a bit. “Just need to sit down for a bit.”
She laughed at that, “I’m sorry. My cousins are like that once they’re comfortable with someone… Or once they find a target that’ll play with them.”
Jack shook his head and looked down at Judy, who was biting her fist. He gently reached over and pinched the little rolls of her doughy arms.
“Don’t apologize. They’re great.” He looked down and made an overly excited face at Judy, making the baby squeal with laughter. Oh, that sound was like the bells of heaven ringing. “You’re great, huh?”
She bounced the baby on her knee, making her laugh more. “You wanna hold her?”
He didn’t drop his face, keeping it happy looking to entertain Judy, “Only if she wants to.”
Well, in convenient timing, the baby reached out and made grabby hands at Jack.
“I think she wants to.” She smiled and handed Jack the baby.
He made a little groan as he wrapped his hands around her tummy and quickly positioned the almost toddler onto his lap. Judy clapped her hands and looked around for approval. Y/n quickly started clapping and letting out a little ‘Yay!’
The baby let out a huff, and Jack looked down at her.
“Yeah. Long day, huh?”
That made the both of them laugh. Jack casually squeezed her little doughy arms and reached over to grab the small bowl of puff snacks on the table. He handed it to her, and Judy shrieked excitedly. Jack smiled, proud of himself for making his girlfriend’s little cousins happy.
“This is so so dangerous, sweetheart.” He murmured.
She smirked a little knowingly, “How so?”
“We’re too good at this.” He shook his head with a nervous smile, “Makes me think of things.”
Her eyes widened despite having put two and two together. The idea of kids was something they didn’t talk about much, but the general idea was that he was too old, and she liked her independence. She had always been that way. She liked being able to put herself first, and if she became a mother…she could never be selfish ever again. But the idea of kids with HIM? With Jack Abbot? For some reason, that was a lot more attractive. And more than attractive… it felt doable.
She shook off the thought and smiled with a blushing face.
“Yeah… Me too.” She admitted, watching Judy shove little star puffs into her mouth. “How about we revisit this when we’re…” She looked around at all the baby shower decorations. The little clothes and footie pajamas hanging around. The ultrasound pictures. The cutesy stuffed animals. “... more immune to propaganda.”
Jack chuckled, looking around himself. “I completely agree.”
A little later into the evening, it was getting close to leaving time, and all the adults sat at a long picnic table outside. The heat at least seemed to be settling down as the high noon sun set a little more. She and Jack had played a few of the baby shower games. Watched Sandra open presents with her beau. And did their best to get some time away from the little cousins.
One of her cousins squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, directing her half-lidded eyes to Y/n. “So… how did you meet Jack?”
She smiled, unfazed, “Our mutual friend, Dana, set us up.”
Jack scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah. Basically, a blind date, and I nearly passed out because Dana had failed to mention how freaking gorgeous you are.”
“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, taking a sip of her drink.
“It’s true!”
Her aunt piped up and pointed between the two of them, “And you two aren’t bothered by the… well, by the age gap? I feel like I’d have nothing in common with someone like that.”
It was a bit of a sting, but the two of them were used to it.
She shrugged.
“We’re not really bothered. And it’s not like I’ve ever been overly trendy or anything. Honestly, I haven’t seen a big difference other than he’s more mature than any man my age.” At that, her older cousins looked at each other. It wasn’t meant to be a dig, but if the shoe fits.
Her aunt let out a little, “Huh,” and leaned back in her chair.
Suddenly, her grandma tapped the table, “Well, that just means you gotta get started on the grandbabies right away!”
Both her and Jack choked on their drinks.
“GRANDMA!” She laughed in shock as the rest of the table died in laughter, “Look, we’re not even married yet. Let that wait for just a bit more, okay?”
Under the table, she felt Jack reach down and squeeze her thigh. His grip a mix of fabric and skin. She flushed and bit her lip through her smile, trying to seem totally cool. Jack had been getting on her about getting married for the past month, so she knew she was in for the best kind of trouble when she got home.
Sandra rubbed her stomach, “Well, I wish you guys luck with everything. I’m sure whatever you decide will be best. Clearly, you’ve brought home a big catch.”
The table laughed again, and Jack raised his hands, waving them off.
“No, no… If anything, I’m the lucky one. Every day I wake up, and I can’t believe that a woman like your Y/n is with a guy like me.”
At that, all the girls swooned. The cousins. The aunts. They were all definitely won over by the handsome Dr. Jack Abbot. And she felt so completely satisfied.
“Thank you. You’re crazy, baby.” She chuckled and leaned over to give him a quick peck.
The kids watching from the end of the table let out a ‘EWWWWW’ and she shook her head with a laugh. Jack pointed to them.
“Hey, the J Name Pact. Remember?”
They giggled mischievously and returned their attention to their activity books. And with her whole family won over, she felt not only like she had made them proud. But that she was so incandescently happy to have Jack in her life and in her future, wherever that led.
TAG: @theariespov
‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. jack abbot x kindergarten teacher!reader
❀ jack abbot who comes into his wife's kindergarten class every year on careers day to tell the kids all about being a doctor
❀ jack abbot who keeps all of the drawings the students make for him
❀ jack abbot who is always called for paediatric cases because he spends so much time in his wife's class, and knows what to talk to the kids about to keep them distracted
❀ jack abbot who remembers the names of all his wife's students and remembers everything she tells him about them
❀ jack abbot who sits quietly on saturday mornings and reads medical journals while his wife marks her students work
❀ jack abbot who helps out with all the school fairs and performances, he even goes on all their fields trips (for practicality of course, he can be a first aider if needed, not because he secretly loves the trips to the aquarium)
❀ jack abbot who helps decorate her classroom every summer (and for halloween and christmas)
❀ jack abbot who always buys his wife two bouquets of flowers, one for the dining table and one for her desk in her classroom
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
You’re out for drinks with some of the night shift crew, but you can’t stop texting and calling your girlfriend.
Notes: some tooth-rotting fluff to offset the angst that is to come with other fics. alcohol, hurt/comfort, minor anxiety attack, neurodivergent reader, sexting, masturbation
Baran hears the ping of two text messages from the end table, but it isn’t your text tone, so she ignores it. It’s a Thursday night, and she’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a memoir she’s been meaning to read for a while, a mug of tea close by.
The house is emptier than usual. Baran’s son is with his dad for the weekend, and you’re at a bar with Shen and Ellis. The three of you try to go out semi-regularly. First it was to blow off steam with fellow “night crawlers” — a name Baran found distasteful but liked the way you said it low in her ear. But then Shen and Ellis started dropping by for dinner, and Baran was grabbing lunch with Shen without you, and before any of you realized it you’d all become friends.
Still, going out is more your thing, and Baran rarely drinks, so she gave you a lingering kiss goodbye and told you to be safe and have fun.
Your text tone sounds in the quiet living room, and Baran sets down her book, reaching over to grab her phone. You usually send her a selfie or two when she’s not out with you, something Baran always looks forward to. Reading the texts on her lock screen, however, draws a frown.
9:24 pm
John Shen: I fucked up
9:25 pm
John Shen: It’s probably fine
9:28 pm
Azizam: do you still love me?
Worry and irritation well in Baran in equal measures. She taps the call button, feeling you probably need to hear the answer in your ear and not from a screen.
9:29 pm
Outgoing call: Azizam
Call declined.
Baran’s worry grows, and her fingers fly. As an emergency medicine doctor, she’s adept at remaining measured and logical in almost any situation, but when it comes to you or her son, something much more urgent and primal fights for dominance.
9:29 pm
You: You know I love and adore you very much.
You: Is everything OK?
9:30 pm
Azizam: can’t talk they’re playing party in the usa
9:30 pm
You: And that’s more important than finding out if I still love you?
9:31 pm
Azizam: needed to hype myself up in case
This does not ease Baran’s worry. She knows you know, on some level, this is silly. If Baran were ever going to say something so devastating — and she had no plans to — she wouldn’t do it over text while you’re at a bar. But you are in your head enough to type it out and send it, which twists in Baran’s gut.
9:31 pm
You: Please call me when your song is over, so you can hear me say it.
Azizam reacted with: ❤️
Baran opens her thread with Shen, her irritation now simmering into something resembling a rubber band pulled taut right at his head.
9:31 pm
You: Are you the reason my girlfriend is asking me whether I still love her?
9:33 pm
John Shen: Shit
9:34 pm
Incoming call: Azizam
“Am I being needy?” are your first words to her, nearly shouted over the club music blasting through the earpiece.
Baran takes the phone an inch away from her ear, blinking, a weary hum catching in her throat. She’s not a fan. And neither are you — too chaotic and overstimulating. Probably Shen’s choice in venue tonight.
There have been times that Baran’s had to keep a steady, grounding hand on the nape of your neck and another on your knee to keep it from bouncing. You’re a good sport — always wanting to be supportive of Shen’s favorite spots, a quality she loves about you — but there are nights the two of you just go home. And in the quiet car, you hide your overwhelmed and embarrassed tears in the window as Baran rubs the top of your thigh.
It’s something you perceive as a contradiction to how cool and collected you are as an emergency medicine doctor. Baran recognizes it as rooted in control because she too needs it in certain ways to feel safe. You’re a skilled physician — you expect all possible scenarios, and you’re prepared for each one. You know how to mentor because you know how residents work, what they need, how they learn. It’s all planned and logical and built from years of experience and practice. Outside of work, things are more unpredictable. And loud crowds are one of your more sensitive spots. You’re ashamed of it, but Baran has never once made you feel that way.
You sound anxious and unsure on the phone. Baran takes a breath and settles deeper into the couch. She wishes she were there with you.
“Honey, where is this coming from?” she asks softly, carefully.
“That’s not a no.”
Baran presses her lips together. We’re not doing logic tonight, she sees.
“Asking me one time if I love you does not make you needy. But it does make me worry,” she says with so much love and gentleness. It seems to break through to you.
“I’m just anxiety spiraling,” you groan, the sounds of the club getting a degree quieter. Baran frowns and circles her fingers soothingly around her forearm, imagining it’s yours.
“Walk me through it.”
Talking through your thought process doesn’t always make you see a situation more clearly, but it’s the best Baran can do so far away.
“It’s stupid. This club is too loud. It’s crowded, and I’m hot, and I’m, like, trying not to make the walls close in by taking shots. And I just…is me being on nights hurting us? Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been distant lately, and —”
“Azizam, pause. Take a breath,” Baran cuts you off, firm but tender. It’s exactly what she suspected was happening, minus taking shots to quell a panic attack, which is something she’ll address in more depth with you later. “If I weren’t happy with any aspect of our relationship, I would tell you. You’ve never had to guess how I’m feeling. That’s still true.”
Baran pauses, listening, but you’re quiet, and she thinks there may be something hot clawing up your throat. So she just breathes evenly on the phone with you, and when she thinks you’re okay, she speaks.
“I love you. More than words.”
“I love you,” you sigh, the tension gone from your voice. There’s her girl. A small smile tugs at Baran, and she’s itching to hug you and kiss your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
“Are you satisfied?” she teases lightly.
“Can you say it again?”
Baran smiles lazily, chewing her lip. She likes when you ask for what you need.
“Kheyli dooset daram. I love you very much. With all my heart.”
“Mmm. Okay, I’m satisfied,” you hum happily, and Baran’s heart swells.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, drink water, call me if you need me, and come home to me soon.”
“I love you so much.”
When you end the call, Baran takes a deep breath and opens her texts with Shen.
9:41 pm
You: What the fuck did you say to her?
9:43 pm
John Shen: She was saying how she wants to feel closer to you since you’re on opposite shifts, and I told her not to stress it. Everyone goes through rough patches
9:44 pm
You: Are you kidding me?
You: What would possess you to say that?
Especially in a place already known to make you anxious, Baran thinks.
9:45 pm
John Shen: Like I said, I fucked up
John Shen: I wanted her off the trail!
John Shen: 💍💍💍
Baran laughs humorlessly, shaking her head as she types, a scoff under her breath.
9:45 pm
You: ???
You: She wasn’t ON the trail.
9:55 pm
John Shen: I thought you were planning something or whatever??
9:56 pm
You: Yes, and I would prefer she not think I’m breaking up with her when it happens.
Baran told Shen she’s planning to propose specifically so that he could tell her if you started to suspect — not for him to actively make you think Baran is harboring ill will toward you. Most of your shifts were together, so he saw you more than most. He would have a fairly accurate read on your mindset.
You and Baran have talked about your future together several times, and you’re both on the same page. A proposal wouldn’t be unexpected, but Baran wanted it to be a surprise. She didn’t want you coming home one day already knowing. None of this, of course, stops Baran from being terrified you’ll say no. She loves you so much it hurts sometimes, and she cannot imagine doing the rest of this life without you. And asking you to marry her puts that all on the line.
Baran takes a breath and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch. She tries to focus back on her book with little success and wonders if she should get Ellis involved to run interference on Shen. No, that would be an even worse idea.
Her phone pings, and she grabs it.
10:02 pm
John Shen: Well, she seems fine now
Baran rolls her eyes and stands up. She needs a long, steamy shower.
10:35 pm
Azizam: parker is being disgusting
Azizam: she knows i’m yearning and she’s being cruel by making out with someone right in front of me
Baran sees the text when she’s doing her skincare routine and chuckles, the mirror still fogged up. She finishes rubbing lotion into her leg before replying.
10:42 pm
You: I highly doubt it’s malicious, my love.
You: You’re yearning?
You get cute when you’re drunk, clingy and sweet. A little too loud, a little chaotic, but you always come back to Baran and give her the softest, most pathetic eyes as your hand slides places it shouldn’t be in public and you kiss her cheek and her ear until Baran shivers and pulls you reluctantly away.
Your next text comes through as Baran settles on top of the covers, resolved to stay up a while longer and wait for you. She doesn’t always, but you’re dipping into a neediness Baran can never resist.
10:47 pm
Azizam: can you send me a pic of your lips?
10:47 pm
You: No?
10:47 pm
Azizam: pretty pretty please, sweetie
10:48 pm
You: You have many, many pictures of me on your phone.
10:49 pm
Azizam: i want your lips
Azizam: i want to kiss you
Baran’s stomach flips, and when it settles, there’s heat swirling low in her core. She licks her lips, sitting up in bed.
10:49 pm
Outgoing Facetime: Azizam
As soon as the call connects, Baran sees your flushed, grinning cheeks as they come closer to the screen. You give it several exaggerated, smacking kisses before pulling your phone back a respectable distance. Baran hums, a lovesick smile on her face, eyes hooded.
“You know, you can come home and kiss me yourself,” she says, lolling her head to the side as she watches you.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
“Am not. Still true, though.” There’s a slight slide to your words that you clearly don’t hear. You frown. “Did you shower without me?”
Baran’s hair is damp, and her skin is glowing with various oils and creams that you always tell her smell wonderful right before you dip your nose into the skin behind her ear, lips skating. And the only thing Baran can think about is how she wants you in her arms.
“It’s almost 11 pm, azizam. Yes, I showered without you.”
“Baby, no!” You look urgently devastated, a dramatic groan leaving your lips, petulant in a way you only are when you’re disinhibited. Like when you match her son’s early morning grumbles over a healthy breakfast instead of pancakes, Baran shouldn’t, but she finds it endearing.
You love showering with Baran — for more than just the obvious reasons. There’s something reverent in the way you often insist on taking a soapy washcloth to Baran’s body, trailing over her curves as you pull her close and leave delicate kisses to her shoulder. Or, you just watch her with the most loving, steady eyes. And when she lets you wash her hair, you dig expert fingers into her scalp, and she always leans back into you, humming contentedly. You don’t even have to touch her, and Baran has never felt more worshipped than when she’s naked with you.
Before Baran can tell you she’ll shower again if it’ll wipe away that sad puppy dog look, Ellis is sliding up next to you.
“You are bringing down the energy in this whole fucking club,” she accuses playfully, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing. “B, no offense, but your girlfriend is kind of codependent and sappy when she’s drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” you insist, looking at Ellis, who raises her brow and glances between you and Baran as if looking for backup.
“You are, eshgham,” Baran agrees easily. Ellis grabs the phone from your hand.
“Byeee!” she grins at Baran. The call ends.
Both Ellis and Shen have an ease to them that she doesn’t see in the day shift. They have their flaws — both a little too unsympathetic in the ED for Baran’s taste — but they have firm boundaries and shed their work personas like snakes each morning, something she respects. And around the dinner table, they’re funny and easy to be around, and Baran knows you’re in good hands.
11:02 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you, Ellis, and Shen in a new, quieter looking bar. Shen is sipping something fruity looking, waving at the camera. You’re grinning, and Ellis is holding up two stiff-looking drinks. Baran knows without a doubt you’re going to be hungover tomorrow, all grumpy and far away and disheveled. Good thing Baran enjoys taking care of you.
You reacted with: ❤️
11:07 pm
Parker Ellis: [video attached]
Parker Ellis: down bad
It’s a short clip of you talking animatedly with Shen. Ellis zooms in on your face and then pans down to your hand, where your phone is open to a selfie of the two of you curled up on the couch last month.
Baran feels her heart swell and contract in her chest, and she pulls up the same photo on her camera roll. She’s molded into your side under a blanket, her head tucked under your chin, her hand around the back of your neck. And you’re smiling like you just won the lottery.
11:21 pm
Azizam: i need you so bad right now
Baran’s scrolling through instagram, missing you next to her, when the notification appears. She smirks, wondering when you’d finally start getting like this.
11:22 pm
You: Oh?
11:23 pm
Azizam: fuck
Azizam: what are u wearing?
Baran rolls onto her back, sighing, hair splayed out. She can picture you, breathing measured, maybe pressing your thighs together. Feeling hot and desperate thinking about her. And Baran loves making you ache.
But you’re also out with friends, and Ellis has already ragged on you for being clingy twice tonight. Do you really want to do this right now?
11:24 pm
You: Shorts and your t-shirt.
11:24 pm
Azizam: looking at a pic of ur neck rn
11:25 pm
Azizam: fuck you. sext me for real
Baran raises her brow and settles deeper into the bed, one hand skating over her belly absently. She knows what photo you’re probably looking at. It’s innocent enough. Baran wasn’t paying attention, smiling and craning her neck to look behind her at a dinner party. If she let you, she knows you’d leave dark marks up the length of her every chance you get. It does something maddening and insatiable to you. Baran, of course, uses this to her advantage.
11:27 pm
You: You want me to tell you my fingers are on my neck, wishing it was your mouth?
You: Running over my chest.
You: Up my inner thigh.
11:27 pm
Azizam: yes
Azizam: are they?
They are. Dancing and light but enough to start setting Baran’s nerves on fire. She spreads her thighs and slides her fingers down over her underwear.
11:27 pm
You: Maybe.
11:28 pm
Azizam: show me
Azizam: need your mouth on me
Baran hums. One hand slides under her shirt — your shirt — lazily, teasing a nipple that pebbles too easily. Her breath catches, and clarity descends on her. You’re out with friends. You deserve to enjoy it — while staying in the present moment.
11:31 pm
You: You should focus on Parker and John. You’ll have me all to yourself when you get home.
11:32 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you in a bathroom stall. Your hand is holding up your shirt and bra against your sternum, chest exposed to the air. Your nipples are hard, and Baran’s lips part, her previous text completely wiped from her memory. On instinct or some base need, her fingers slide under the elastic of her underwear. Of course she’s wet.
11:33 pm
You: Baby…
You: You are so fucking gorgeous.
She stares at the photo, jaw slack. What she wouldn’t give to have her hands on your breasts, your nipple in her mouth right now. Baran’s fingers circle her clit, gathering wetness, working herself up as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing.
11:35 pm
Azizam: thinking about u
Azizam: [image attached]
Baran moans. It’s a photo of your hand in the low bathroom lighting. A stringy slickness connects your middle two fingers. She can practically taste you on her tongue, feel how your hand would grip her hair, feel the way your hips would rock into her mouth. And she can feel that familiar tension coiling in her, her muscles tensing.
11:36 pm
You: Oh, sweetheart.
You: That wet and desperate just from thinking about me?
You: I’d get on my knees for you right there in the stall.
You don’t reply right away, and Baran has a sinking suspicion you got pulled away from your phone. She groans, closing her eyes and feeling unfairly frustrated and horny. She should stop, wait for you like you have to wait for her. But you’ll be too drunk for her to fuck you when you get home, and you’re going to throw yourself at her anyway. And she’ll feel less pent up and guilty about it if she’s not hot and bothered when you walk through the door. So, Baran stares at the photo of your fingers and slides two inside of herself.
Her phone pings again when she’s sweaty and twitching and catching her breath, fingers slick as they rest on her stomach, careful not to touch the sheets.
11:44 pm
Parker Ellis: stop engaging with her!!!! you’re intruding on girls night
Parker Ellis: whore
Baran groans and closes her eyes briefly, embarrassed and just about fed up with Ellis and Shen. She just wants her baby in bed with her.
11:49 pm
You: Inappropriate. I am an attending.
12:03 am
Parker Ellis: rolling my eyes rn
Parker Ellis: not My attending
Parker Ellis: don’t be bitter. bar bathrooms are gross. i’m saving her from a yeast infection
Baran decides to ignore that and pointedly not think about what Ellis interrupted you doing.
12:06 am
You: Isn’t John with you?
12:08 am
Parker Ellis: he’s one of the girls
Baran is drifting between waking and sleep when her phone pings and jolts her out of it, her face smashed into a pillow and her bedside lamp still on. She swallows and drags her phone to her face.
12:39 am
Azizam: Parker found me texting :(
Azizam: we’re at a new bar
Azizam: need you to fuck me slow to this song on repeat btw. it was on the radio
Azizam: [Spotify Link] Southland by Lindsay Lou
This wakes Baran up a little, and she’s selfishly happy to know you didn’t get too far in the bathroom. She opens the link and listens as she replies.
12:44 am
You: Noted, baby.
You: Are you drinking water?
12:45 am
Azizam: i’m not a pussy
12:45 am
You: If you want me to go down on you when you get home, you’d better be drinking water.
It’s a ruse, and Baran thinks you know it, but your response is cute.
12:45 am
Azizam: on it boss
Baran is woken up from a deeper sleep to another ping. The song you sent is still playing softly on repeat, and you stop it. Baran can see why it turns you on and already has plans on how she’s going to fuck you to it.
1:21 am
Azizam: r u sure ur ok that m on nights?
The spelling and insecurity in your text tells Baran you have not, in fact, been drinking water. She exhales slowly, an unfair sort of annoyance twinging in her sleepy mind. Not at you, with whom she’s never truly annoyed. It took a long time — some unlearning and careful assurances — for you to be so raw and honest with Baran about your more prickly anxieties. And she took that vulnerability very seriously. No, Baran’s just tired, impatient you’re not with her, and feeling a little needy herself.
1:24 am
You: Yes. But if you want to talk more about it in the morning we can.
1:25 am
Azizam: what if u stat reesnting me
1:25 am
You: Do you resent me for being on day shift?
1:25 am
Azizam: no
Baran rubs her eye and yawns. You’re drunk, and she’s half asleep, and she doesn’t see the point in either of you pursuing such a delicate subject any further.
1:26 am
You: I love you.
1:26 am
Azizam: I LOV Y
Baran smiles, her eyes dry. You’re easily distracted. Giving up on sleep until you’re home, she goes back to scrolling on social media, too tired to pick her book back up.
1:47 am
Incoming Facetime: Azizam
“Baran!” you smile.
“Hi, honey,” Baran coos, her voice raspy and low, her head resting on her bent arm over the pillow. If you were more clear-headed, you would have started fawning over it. Despite how tired she is, Baran loves that you want to talk to her so much while you’re drunk and away from her. It sparks something fond and possessive in her.
“Would you love me if I were a worm?” You’re definitely slurring now.
“What?” Baran is caught off guard.
“If I turned into a worm, would you still love me? Shen said I should ask you.”
She opens and closes her mouth, unsure what that even means, when a familiar voice drifts to her ears, the equally familiar face following quickly into view.
“Dude, you can’t just leave me at the bar. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”
“Dr. Santos?” Baran asks incredulously, shocked into formality. She’s wearing smoky makeup and a swooping top and talking to you with the ease of good friends — a connection Baran is sure just happened tonight.
“Oh, shit,” Trinity hisses, ducking out of view. You blink at Santos, confused, and she slowly, sheepishly returns to the camera. “Hi Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
More awake now, Baran raises an eyebrow.
“How’s your 102-degree fever?” she asks humorlessly, sitting halfway up to offer herself some semblance of authority as she reprimands her resident while laying in bed at two in the morning.
“Better, yeah,” she winces, and you laugh suddenly.
“You didn’t tell me you called out sick,” you blurt, and Trinity glares at you.
“I didn’t want you telling my boss I’m here,” she accuses, motioning to your phone.
“So, you thought I’d go home to my future wife and not tell Baran I saw you and Whittaker at the gay bar?”
Baran’s ears ring, something sharp and hot shooting through her. She remembers the first time she brought up marriage to you, you were watching Bridesmaids together. You’re a few years younger than Baran, and unlike her, you’d never been married before. You didn’t have a kid to think about. Though, you loved Baran’s son dearly, and she loved that you loved him — and that he loved you back.
Have you ever thought about it? Marriage? She asked carefully as your head lay in her lap, and she played absently with your hair. Your fingers stilled on Baran’s thigh, and in the few seconds of silence, Baran thought she might throw up.
Are you asking? You murmured, turning to look up at Baran with unreadable, sparkling eyes.
Yes, she said easily, and then blinked, understanding too late what you meant. I mean, yes, I’m asking if you’ve —
Yes, you cut her off. With the right person. Yes.
She can’t believe she ever for one second doubted you might say yes if she got down on one knee. Baran shouldn’t have then, and she certainly doesn’t now that you’d called her your future wife. The shock quickly melts to a steady warmth that seems to blossom throughout her entire body, an easy sureness she knows is there for good.
“You’re really fucking irritating,” Trinity says to you emphatically, working her jaw, but she knows this situation is her own fault, so there’s no real bite to it. It brings Baran back to the present.
“Whittaker’s there, too?” she drawls, knowing Dennis is definitely on the schedule tomorrow.
“Ooooo, Dr. Santos, you are in so much fucking trouble. I gotta go, babe,” you say, pressing your fingers to your lips and then the camera before the call ends. Truth be told, Baran isn’t really irritated, but she can’t let Trinity know that.
She looks back down at your contact card, a soft, sweet photo of you greeting her. A wave of affection sweeps over her so intensely it knocks the breath from her. Her future wife. Baran swallows down the lump of emotions building in her and focuses on texting you.
1:52 am
You: Be safe. Make good choices. Come home soon. I love you.
1:52 am
Azizam: 😍❤️👅🐱
Baran lays back down, setting her phone by her head and staring at your contact photo like a lovesick teenage girl. She doesn’t wake up this time when Shen’s text comes through.
2:09 am
John Shen: ETA 20 min
John Shen: BTW, I think she’s onto you
Baran is stirred awake by the bed dipping next to her and quiet curses. A groggy noise rumbles in her chest, her limbs too heavy to move, her eyelids like lead.
“Back to sleep, honey,” you whisper, your words coming out a little slurred still, unsteady as you crawl toward her on the soft mattress.
Baran forces herself to turn over, another incoherent, almost whiny noise rising in her. She licks her lips and swallows, her eyes blinking open to see you settle next to her in a t-shirt and underwear.
“Azizam,” Baran mumbles happily, and you grin, leaning over to kiss her.
Instinctually, Baran fists the front of your shirt and drags you closer, her other arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your lips slide against hers, both of you uncoordinated and sloppy from alcohol and sleep but content in it. The thick, sweet smell of the bar lingers on you, along with the faint familiar tang of your sweat, and your tongue dips between Baran’s lips. She moans faintly, and you scoot closer so you can intertwine your legs, your hips pressing into hers.
“I drank water,” you breathe against her mouth, sliding your kisses to her jaw and her neck, wet and open. Baran sighs, more awake now, her core muscles twitching. One thing that really gets Baran going is sleepy sex, and you are definitely using this to your advantage. She remembers her faux promise to you and smiles, tangling a hand in your hair.
“Sleep, eshgham. We have three days together. Just you and me,” she sighs, tilting her chin to limit your access to her neck. You hum softly, dipping your face to her shoulder.
“Dooset daram,” you mumble into Baran’s skin. You know a few phrases in Farsi now, but according to you, this is the most essential, the one you learned first. And every time you say it, it makes Baran weak in the knees.
Her hand tightens in your hair, and she kisses your head, holding you firmly against her. She can feel you drifting off to sleep already, muscles relaxing, breathing even. And Baran feels that stubborn tightness in her throat again now that she finally has you in her arms.
She hadn’t known exactly when she was going to do it, waiting for the perfect time to present itself. This weekend. She’s going to propose to you this weekend.
synopsis: jack doesn't realize how close you are to the day shift residents until they start stealing you from him. but he is definitely not jealous, no matter what the rest of the night shift thinks...
- or -
the 5 times day shift covers nights and the 1 you're asked to cover days
contains: jack is down BAD, santos/langdon twins propaganda, bsf samira mohan AND bsf night shift crew, me pushing my mowalsh agenda, jack has adopted the pittlings at this point, a l o t of blurred lines between people, age gap (reader is in her 20's), suggestive at times, everyone calls reader sweets, no use of y/n, this part is LONG it grew a mind of it's own (15.7k words i'm so sorry)
note: FIRST, happy s2 finale day!!! idk what i'm gonna do with myself but I have two other seperate fics in my drafts ready to post at the drop of a hat depending on how tonight goes
-now, most importantly, i'm SO serious when i say i read every single comment, tag, and reblog on part 1 a million times over, i love every single one of you that read it and showing it love with my whole entire heart :')
-this part when through soooooo many changes, it took forever for me to be happy with it and i hope it lives up to the unreasonably high standards i've set for it, there's so many jack x sweets moments I removed from this I might just put them in their own little world of mini fics at this point maybe?
-this also STILL isn't the part i orginally set out to write so there is at least one more addition to the jack x sweets universe if anyone's interested
-ENJOY <3
technically part 2 to this fic but they're both completely standalone, you don't have to read one to get the other
dividers by @uzmacchiato <3
1. Cherry Limeade Sweet Tea
The night shift could be…territorial. And that was putting it nicely.
It was just different from days. You had to be hardwired a certain way to make it through full moons and haunting hours and eerie mornings when the world was deciding what it was going to be that day. There was a certain attitude, a very particular personality, you needed to have in order to stay sane. It definitely wasn’t for the faint of heart.
The residents tended not to acknowledge that until they actually experienced it firsthand. Shen and Ellis, who had been some of the only ones to master it and seen others crash and burn, called it trial by fire. Crus, who’d proven himself to be a fast learner, was more optimistic, said they just needed to keep an open mind. Jack thought they were mostly just overconfident. The constant buzz of the day shift, the ever present thrum of consistent questions, was absolutely nothing like the unpredictable chaos of the night shift. Most residents didn’t understand that.
Dr. Samira Mohan, to your incredible delight, was one of the ones who thrived during the night.
She understood. She could adapt. She was your best friend, your closest confidant, the one you’d attached yourself to within a couple days of being at the PTMC. She was what you missed most about days. And you were what she loved most about nights.
So when Ellis needed someone to cover for her one night she jumped at the chance.
It started immediately.
You’d left yours and Jack’s place early. Kissing him slowly on your way out the door as you shoved your scrubs in a tote bag larger than the one you usually carried, telling him you’d see him at work. He tried not to be offended when you told him Samira was waiting for you outside, you guys had an early dinner reservation before your shift.
It was fine. That was perfectly normal. The world wasn’t going to crash and burn just because he had to skip his usual routine with you. He wouldn’t spontaneously combust because you weren't there, he wasn’t that addicted to you.
But then you walk in with Samira and barely look at him. You continue your conversation with her even as you walk up to him and hand him his drink. You flash him a smile and kiss his cheek quickly before walking around the desk to set your drink in your usual corner.
“Seriously I don’t know how you do it,” Samira waits for you. She lingers on the opposite side of central and takes a sip from a large drink in her hands. “I didn’t even know I could want this. What is it again?”
Any other time this would be fine. Jack was not addicted or clingy or, god forbid, possessive. He liked to think he wasn’t like that. But you smile at her in that gentle way he craves constantly. And then Jack recognizes the logo on the pastry bag in Samira’s hand.
It’s from the bakery you’d told him you heard about online. One you’d tried only once before and became obsessed with. You’d been talking about the memory of their donuts since he’d taken you to try it. It was out of your way so you rarely had it, usually saving the experience for special occasions. It’d been a while since the two of you had stopped by.
But now Samira was handing you the bag from that exact bakery. She’d driven you all the way there. And she was holding a drink from your favorite cafe. You’d bought her one too when you bought him his. You were beaming when you looked up at her and started walking towards her. You’d barely even glanced at him.
There’s a feeling that settles deep in his gut. This burning that feels like it’s poisoning him from the inside out that not even the drink you brought him can make go away. He feels the urge to make you look at him. Remind you that he was right there, that you didn’t need anyone else.
Jack stabs his straw into his drink a little too harshly and takes a sip, swallowing back the jealousy he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t feel.
“A cherry limeade sweet tea,” You wind your arm through Samira’s and start walking towards the locker room with her. “It’s got some added guarana extract for -”
“Extra natural caffeine. Slower absorption so you don’t feel the crash as badly.”
“Exactly,” You face her as you walk, excitement taking over your features in response to the fact that she understands your choice exactly. Your head falls on her shoulder. “I missed you, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Samira rests hers on top of yours, she really needed this after… well, everything. “I missed you too.”
And it only gets worse from there.
“This is torture,” Shen drops his head on the counter at central. “It’s like I’m not even here, Sweets hasn’t noticed me at all.”
“Tell me about it,” Jack mutters from where he’s standing a few feet over. His head is resting on one hand as he slowly clicks buttons on a keyboard one by one.
“Aren’t you two needy today.” Lena says without looking up at either of them.
“We have a routine, okay?” Shen frowns as he finally looks up. “The two of us are supposed to be out in triage together right now. Who else am I supposed to tell every detail of my day off to?”
Lena shakes her head, barely glancing up over the rim of her glasses. “You’re allowed to not be attached at the hip 24/7, you know that right?”
“I know that,” Shen rolls his eyes at that and points in the direction of where you and Samira are walking out of South 18. “Do they know that? I mean did they even get anything done on days?”
Jack is staring at the corner where your drink always sits. His own is turning room temperature right next to it. He’d left it there soon after you had handed it to him, a silent hope that maybe he’d get to steal a moment with you later. He doesn’t realize Shen and Lena are looking at him until he looks up again. He sighs.
“I actually think days was the most productive when they worked together,” The stolen moment with you he needed for his mental wellbeing was disappearing right before his eyes. “Unfortunately.”
His attention shoots across the ED at the sound of your laugh. It wasn’t even 10:00 PM yet and he already felt like he was going through withdrawal.
And to make it worse Mateo had apparently found a way to slot himself right beside the two of you flawlessly. He finds you guys and then suddenly the three of you are in the middle of laughing about something together. He swears he’s never seen any of you look so alive.
Shen seems to notice the same thing. “Okay, that’s just not fair.”
“You know, either one of you could easily go and make conversation.” Lena shakes her head at them.
“That’s crazy,” Jack shakes his head as if it was obvious. “I’m not gonna go interrupt their time.”
Lena rolls her eyes and she’s already mentally preparing for it. It was gonna be a long night for all of them. Most of them anyway.
****
Emery Walsh was having the absolute time of her life.
“Why so sad?” She leans on the counter next to Jack where he’s entering orders for an echo for one of his patients. She gives him a mock pout as she tips her head to the side. “Girlfriend ignoring you?”
“She’s not ignoring me,” Jack immediately shoots her a glare. “We’re just busy tonight.”
Walsh looks around the ED. There’s not a single person in the hall and three whole empty beds. She even thinks there might be a couple empty chairs in the waiting room. “Are we in the same ED right now?”
Jack rolls his eyes. It’s an instinct that comes naturally whenever Emery’s around. He respects her, he does. She just has also mastered pushing his buttons like nobody else does. It’s a talent, really. “Is there a reason you’re down here?”
“To see Samira, obviously.”
“You don’t have a surgery to perform or something?” Jack picks up the tablet with his patient information and turns away from her. Maybe she won’t see the irritation in his eyes.
“No? Your doctors don’t spend time moping around like you do. They’re actually good at their jobs which makes mine easier,” She falls into step next to him as he starts walking away from her without another word. “And I’m taking advantage of it to finally make my move.”
“I repeat, don’t you have a job to go do?”
“I’ll do it after I talk to Samira,” Emery sighs when Jack doesn’t even give her some smartass quip back at that. So she grabs his arm and stops him from walking away from her. “Look, I’m in a good mood -”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m gonna choose to ignore your tone,” She also ignores the glare Jack shoots at her. Again. “Why don’t you let me help us both out?”
Jack’s willing to try anything at this point. “I’m listening.”
She gives him one of those smiles he hates. One that means she’s clearly plotting something in her head. He’s convinced she could be a criminal mastermind if she wanted to.
“Hey,” Walsh grabs Shen as he walks past them. “Sweets and Lover Boy over here are gonna make a run to the good vending machines at L&D, can you grab Mateo and cover her and Mohan’s patient in North 4?”
“Deal,” Shen lights up immediately and looks at Jack. “Bring me back some of the good gummy bears.”
“Ooh, I want some of those too,” Walsh starts walking backwards towards where she’d last seen Samira. “And a pack of those cookies, the really soft ones.”
Another eye roll. “Anything else? Maybe a steak dinner while we’re at it.”
“Hey, cut the attitude,” Walsh points at him, a silent warning. “I’m getting you your fix, aren’t I?”
He knows he can’t argue with her there. He watches as she walks into one of the patient rooms. Seconds later she’s sending you out. Alone. For the first time all night.
Jack is making his way towards you without a second thought, rushing before someone can pull either of you away again.
Your eyes light up when you see him and he thinks he could melt at the look you give him and the way you say his name. “Hi.”
“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts pulling you in the direction of the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t say anything else until the elevator doors close behind you. That’s when he grabs you by your waist and gently pushes you back into the corner.
“What’s gotten into you?” You giggle a little bit as you bring him in close. He only shakes his head, silently taking a second to just look at you. To memorize everything, your smile and how you feel against him and the glimmer in your eyes when he finally forces himself to look back at them instead of at how plush and soft your lips look right now.
“Nothing,” His voice goes low, dropping in the silence of the elevator. You’re the one who leans forward to kiss him and he has to try really hard to bite back the moan he can feel building inside him. He forces himself to pull away, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Just missed you.”
“You’re cute,” The elevator doors slide open and Jack’s never hated a machine more. You push yourself off the wall, pressing yourself closer to him as you do. You squeeze past him and start walking out the elevator, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “You coming?”
Jack makes it through the rest of the shift just fine. Until he goes to try and find you after rounds. He finds you and Samira together again. Walsh’s solution wasn’t viable long term, as it turns out.
“Hey, I have tomorrow off. Do you wanna go to that place we’ve been wanting to try?”
“Only if you’re up for it. God, you have to be exhausted.”
“I actually think this might be the most alive I’ve felt in months.”
At least he has time to practice his perfectly neutral response by the time you find him to let him know you’ll meet him back at home.
“Have fun,” He kisses you in the safety of the locker room, sneaking his credit card in your bag as he does. “I’ll wait up for you.”
You don’t bother arguing with him, knowing he wouldn’t listen to you either way. Jack is left watching you walk away, sighing deeply as he does and screwing his eyes shut to make an attempt to ground himself.
At least this was a one time thing. Everything after this would be perfectly fine.
2 & 3. Cucumber Mint Lemonade & Brown Sugar Shaken Espresso w/ a quad shot, extra hot
So maybe Jack had turned to the dark side. He’d taken a page straight out of Emery Walsh’s playbook. Not that he’d ever admit that to her.
He was scheming. Just a little bit. Not enough to be diabolical but enough for Mateo to definitely catch on and bribe Perlah to stay a bit later to linger so she could watch it play out and update him.
This would work. It had to. It was going to. If there was one thing he could do right it was plan and he’d thought this through. Briefly. In the few seconds it took him to walk from the locker room to where all the day shift residents were hovering by the computers finishing their charting. It was good enough.
He had to do it now while you were distracted. Emma had pulled you away to get a second opinion on a patient, this was his best chance.
“Shen needs a few of his shifts covered. I have four of them and need some takers,” He announces himself, making most of them look up. Samira’s about to say something and he puts a hand up. “Someone who isn’t Mohan.”
Jack doesn’t know if Whitaker does it subconsciously or on purpose but he watches it play out in slow motion. For just a moment Whitaker looks at him. Then his eyes find you across the ED and flick to Samira quickly after. Finally they flicker back to him and maybe it’s the guilt but he swears there’s a ghost of a smirk that Whitaker flashes him. He’s perceptive, Jack will give him that.
He looks a little smug when he asks, “Why not?”
“You all need to cover a night shift eventually,” The answer comes out quickly as Jack crosses his arms in front of him. “You can’t keep sticking them all on her.”
“I don’t mind.” Samira is quick to respond. If she wasn’t in her last couple months of her residency she’d have asked to move to night shift the second you had transferred.
“I know. And we appreciate you,” Jack definitely feels just a little bit guilty. “But it’s also good for their experience as doctors.”
It was technically true. On top of that, he also couldn’t afford to be down an attending. If day shift didn’t have enough coverage half the time then the night shift definitely didn’t. Most of the residents were reserved for the day shift and his new one had only just started. And as much confidence as he had in Ellis and Crus to pick up the extra work, he didn’t want to put it all on them. Maybe he’d even get lucky and one of the newer residents would like it enough to stick around long term.
“I say we go top to bottom,” Santos leans back in her chair, gladly giving her eyes a break from her charting. She stretches in her seat before motioning beside her. “Langdon’s the only one besides Samira who’s got seniority here. Which means he gets to be our sacrifice to the night shift gods.”
“Oh, no,” Langdon’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head quickly. It’s comical watching him make an attempt at disappearing behind the screen he’s charting at considering how much he towers over it. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
That statement paired with the horrified look that flashes on Jack’s face is enough to intrigue every single one of them. They have to know everything immediately.
“How come?” Santos looks more amused than she’s ever been, suddenly much more awake than she had been.
“I can’t do nights, I've tried,” A visible shudder runs through Langdon at the memory. “It did not go well.”
Jack figures he should disagree. He figures that as an attending, a chief attending, he should use it as a teaching moment. Tell them that they could never underestimate their jobs or whatever. But the memory of the absolute week from hell set off by Langdon’s presence in the ED past 9pm was something he didn’t think would ever stop haunting him.
They still pretend it didn’t happen and calmly start ushering him out the second it starts getting just a little bit too late. So maybe they were a little bit superstitious. It came naturally when working nights.
“You weren’t,” Jack refuses to look at Langdon when he says it. “You weren’t that bad.”
Langdon frowns, “You hesitated when you said that.”
There’s silence for a second while Jack just looks slightly haunted. He can’t relive that week. Not right now. Or maybe ever again. So to change the topic he tells them, “If you guys can’t decide, I'm picking for you.”
“Sorry, dad,” Javadi gives him a look that perfectly resembles a bratty teenager at the statement and Jack only rolls his eyes at her. He thinks that look alone might’ve aged him a bit. "Where's Shen off to that he needs four days off anyway?”
“Back home,” Jack looks around for any sign of Shen and relaxes a little when he doesn’t see him, not wanting to set off another passionate ramble just yet. “He leaves on Thursday. His sister got last minute tickets to a concert he wanted to go to. Some pop star he hasn’t stopped talking about.”
“I can cover a night for him,” Mel barely takes a break from her charting to look up at Jack. “My day off is on Friday and Becca has plans all weekend anyway. I don’t mind staying and pulling a double.”
“Perfect,” And it really is. Mel had covered a couple nights before and she was good at it. There was definitely no possible way this could go wrong for him. He turns his attention to Whitaker, Santos, and Javadi. “I’ve got three more to cover.”
“I’ll take one,” Santos offers herself up next. “If only to prove that I’m better at nights than Golden Boy.”
“Okay,” Langdon spins in his chair to look at her and Santos copies the motion. “It wasn’t all my fault.”
“You sure about that?”
Jack doesn’t quite like the phrasing of that. He could already feel it backfiring on all of them. He stops their bickering before they can really fully start. He’s talking mostly to Santos when he says, “Night’s aren’t easy, you know.”
“Please,” Santos crosses her arms, already pushing for a challenge. “How much harder than days could it be? Most people are sleeping already, what could possibly be different about it?”
“Oh my god, wait!” Javadi sits up then, cutting off the comment Jack had been about to make.
She’d spent the last few moments recalling every single bit of information she knew about both John Shen and also every major pop star. She knows exactly who he’s talking about immediately.
“I’ll take the last two but tell him he has to bring me back some merch,” She’s typing something on her phone as she says it and Jack swears he hears Shen’s ringtone go off from somewhere. “I want the pink t-shirt, he’ll know which one I’m talking about. I just sent him the money for it so he can’t say no.”
And that covers it.
Sure, you’d worked days with all of them before. And okay, maybe Jack hadn’t actually realized how close you were to the residents until they’d started showing up at his place one by one on your nights off.
But this was different. This was work. And not all of them were Samira Mohan, the one person you trusted as much as him, maybe even a little more.
It’d be fine. It was only four days. How hard could it possibly be?
****
At first it really isn’t that bad.
Mel is perfect. She’d done a week on nights a few months back and fit in seamlessly. Every now and then she’d pick up another night shift. And even now, in the middle of a double, she’s doing great.
You bring her a drink at the start of your shift, a Cucumber Mint Lemonade, and at first nothing is different to how the night usually runs.
And then Jack notices that you are not letting him cling to you the way he tends to.
It isn’t even on purpose most of the time. You’re just always there. You take whichever cases need you most, sometimes extras on top of them, and it’s the same way Jack picks up his. He’s used to maneuvering around you, a hand on the small of your back as he moves past you or feeling your hand on his bicep as you do the same. It just happens. He never notices how much he needs that until it isn’t happening.
You spend almost every second of downtime during Mel’s shift at her side. The two of you spend all night talking about one of the shows you both watch, theorizing and debating and admiring. It keeps her mind awake and it keeps you busy, it’s a win win.
For everyone except Jack.
Every time he’s about to get his hands on you, you wriggle away from him and flash him a smile before you step just too far out of reach. You gravitate towards Mel and get really excited when you talk and it’s fine.
Jack just watches you talk and it’s okay. Honestly.
But then you don’t even risk lingering in empty spaces with him and he finally acknowledges that he might be going crazy, actually. He nearly bites Mateo’s head off when he points it out and has to quickly apologize. And then begrudgingly admits that maybe he does have a problem.
When the sun starts coming up somewhere off in the distance he overhears it.
“Hey,” Mel stops you before you can go check on a patient the two of you had taken on together. “Thank you.”
You tip your head at her, smiling but a little curious. “For what?”
“For talking to me all night long. I really like working with you. It was fun,” Mel shrugs a little bit and then goes silent as she debates whether or not to finish her thought. Ultimately she does, knowing you’d want to hear it. “And for listening.”
Your smile softens then and you nod your head. You hold your hand out in a silent question and wait until she nods a bit. You set it on her arm, a brief, present hold that tells her you’re there. You see her. It only lasts for a second but your point is made. “Of course. Always.”
Mel’s smiling as she walks away. She’s never minded night shifts but she thinks briefly that they’re significantly better now that you’re a part of them. Although that might just be a you thing, she realizes.
Jack keeps to himself for the rest of the shift. Without any more complaining. But when the clock finally hits 7:00 AM he puts Ellis in charge of hand-offs and drags you out of the ED, not even bothering with the mountain of paperwork he was leaving behind.
****
The next night Jack finds out very quickly that he was completely right about Santos.
She’s the one that convinces him that there might actually be something out there that can sense when someone walks into the night shift with too much overconfidence and chooses to make their lives miserable as punishment.
Jack had gone in early to finish his charting from the night before and the very first thing he sees when Trinity Santos walks in is her stumbling right into a gurney. The exact same way Frank Langdon had. She laughs it off. Just like he had. She even cracks the exact same bad joke that he had.
“Since when has that thing been there?”
He and Ellis share a look, wide eyed and absolutely terrified. They already know it’s going to be a very long night.
As hard as they try, they can’t pinpoint what it is that’s throwing Santos off her game. She chugs through the drink you bring her, a Brown Sugar Shaken Espresso with a quad shot, despite the fact that she’d specifically requested it extra hot. She just isn’t able to get a grip on anything. She feels like it’s her first day of med school all over again and it’s killing her.
Jack tries sending Ellis to talk to her but she refuses to get within ten feet of her.
“Abbot, I love my girl, I think she’s great on days,” Ellis is standing very safely on the opposite side of the ED as Santos. “But her and Langdon are like our version of the twins from the shining. I can’t go through that again.”
Jack sends Crus to talk to her next, figuring that maybe confiding in her senior resident for the night would help. It does. Briefly anyway.
Just as she’s starting to get the hang of things in triage a teenager with alcohol poisoning ruins her scrubs and her brand new pair of shoes. She loses all control she’d regained in a fraction of a second.
When she comes back wearing new scrubs and a pair of shoes she’d borrowed from you she pinches the bridge of her nose, “This is Langdon’s fault. I don’t know how but it is.”
And it somehow only gets worse from there. He sends Lena next but it’s no use. Nothing works. So finally, begrudgingly, Jack pulls you into the breakroom. He tells you to hang tight for a second and moments later he walks back in with Trinity.
“Sit down,” Jack walks past her and plants himself in the chair next to yours.
Slowly, Trinity walks closer. She looks between the two of you and then very carefully pulls the chair in front of the two of you out and sinks down. “Is this what it feels like when your parents ground you?”
“Why do you think we’re gonna ground you?” Jack doesn’t even acknowledge the wording of the question.
He’d gotten used to those comments almost as soon as the residents, your friends, had started spending time at his place. Mom and dad. Parents. You need to promise to never break up, I’m too old to be a child of divorce. Most of them were from Santos and Javadi and they were jokes almost all the time. But it also meant they were comfortable around him. They trusted him. There was probably some sort of HR rule against this dynamic but none of them really cared. They looked up to him and valued his opinion and the last thing he wanted was to make them feel afraid of having a bad day. He didn’t want them to carry the same guilt he did.
You watch as the frown twists its way onto Jack’s face. His entire face scrunches in confusion as he tries to decode Trinity Santos. You know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. You know he’s putting a little bit of blame, no matter how unfounded, on himself. You’ve seen the effort he puts in to make everyone feel comfortable and confident here on the night shift, the support he tries to give every one of them. There were already enough unpredictable factors that went into their nights, he didn’t have to be another one of them.
“Because I messed up,” Trinity says it like it should be obvious. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but I must be doing something wrong for this to keep happening. Once, fine. After that? And I don’t even know how to fix it and it sucks.”
“Hang on,” Jack leans forward on the table and you silently let him take control of the conversation. “You’re not doing anything wrong. It just happens to be a shitty night.”
That doesn’t seem to help her much. “Yeah but this doesn’t happen to me. I know what I’m doing so the fact that it keeps going wrong means it has to be…user error or whatever.”
“Listen to me,” Jack taps the table in front of her to force her to look at him. She huffs but looks at him anyway. “You can’t control everything that happens here, no matter how hard you try. Some nights, or days, are just gonna be bad ones and there’s nothing you can do about it. The only thing you can do is try to make it through the day. With our help. That’s what we’re here for.”
Trinity, for once, doesn’t know what to say. There's a sharpness behind her eyes and the back of her throat tightens. She looks away, afraid that if either of you look at her a second longer she’ll break completely.
Finally, after a few seconds, you stand up. You hold a hand out to her and she looks up at you. “Come on.”
She looks at you for a moment, swallows down her emotion, and then finally says, “Sure you wanna do that, Sweets?”
“Trin, you know better. You can’t get rid of me,” You tell her, flashing her a smile, still holding out your hand.
“You better hope bad luck isn’t contagious,” She says when she finally takes your hand, letting you drag her up.
“Well, a captain goes down with the ship right?” You shrug, already starting to pull her out of the room.
“And who made you captain?”
“You really think anyone’s gonna argue with me?”
Even in just the few moments it takes for you to walk out of the breakroom with her, Trinity already feels lighter on her feet.
And it works. Jack’s words combined with you at her side do wonders. She graduates from an easy patient to a medium one with no problem. Then a slightly more complicated one and it’s okay. But then one of your other patients needs you and the second you leave her side though she reverts back to attracting every bad luck charm on the planet.
After that she rivals Jack in terms of clinginess. Trinity will not leave your side. She even follows you to the bathroom at one point, afraid that the metaphorical baby grand piano will fall on her head the moment you leave. You are single handedly helping her keep her head on straight and her sanity intact, she refuses to let you out of her sight.
Jack does not get a single moment alone with you the entire shift. The only reason he makes it through the night is because he figures it could be worse. He also figures maybe Santos needs this. He’s willing to make the sacrifice. Just this once.
Ellis is the one that points it out. Santos does not like the observation. You were singlehandedly the one who saved her shift from being almost as bad as one of Langdon’s. So maybe night shift wasn’t for either of them but at least she knew you and Jack had her back. As long as she had that she could push through.
4. Cookie Butter Iced Latte
The third night Shen was gone is maybe the hardest.
You get a text from Jack at exactly 7:02 PM. How do I fix her? it says. Nothing else. No elaboration.
Before you could ask him what exactly he meant your phone had dinged with another incoming message. From Ellis this time. A video. It was pointed at the fluorescent lights above her head but you could hear the voices loud and clear.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I-I mean what do I even know right? I, like, barely slept last night cause I was so worried about today. Or this morning technically I guess? I mean if Santos couldn’t do it what hope do I have, you know what I mean? All I keep hearing from the other residents is how different the night shift is and I don’t do good with different. Like seriously, it’s a problem. Langdon is still here and I know you think he’s cursed or something but he can’t possibly be any worse than I would be. I’m not prepared. I think if you let me have like a crash course or something or some training maybe, maybe, I could work my way here for a shift but at this present moment I feel like -”
“Javadi!” Jack had cut her off in the middle of her rambling. “Hold that thought.”
I think she might’ve actually broken him. was Ellis’ comment. I think I can actually see him buffering.
Thirty minutes later you’re walking into the PTMC, four hours before you were scheduled to be there, happily sipping on your drink despite the change in schedule.
“Oh, thank god,” Jack might’ve actually developed a sixth sense with how fast he’s able to tell you’ve walked through the ambulance bay doors. An arm around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head, and a moment to finally breathe. It’d been the longest thirty minutes of his life.
He takes your drink out of your hands and takes a sip. He doesn’t even flinch at the obscene amount of sugar and syrups in it like usual. “I talked to her and she listened but I don’t think she actually heard me. I don’t know what else to say. You’re better at this.”
You smile at him and let him keep it, clearly needing the extra caffeine for once. “I think she just needs a familiar face. Give me five minutes.”
You find Javadi in an empty room pacing behind a curtain. Her face lights up the moment she lays eyes on you. “I thought you weren’t supposed to come in until later, aren’t you covering part of Donnie’s shift in the morning?”
“I came to bring you something,” You hold out the fresh coffee in your hand. “Iced Cookie Butter Latte with extra vanilla and cinnamon on top, just like you like it.”
It’s like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders immediately. “I hope you know I worship the ground you walk on.”
You let her chug her way through about a quarter of her drink, watching her for a second before you ask, “You wanna tell me what made you doubt yourself?”
“What,” She can’t help herself. She takes another sip before looking away from you, avoiding eye contact. “What are you talking about?”
You sit on the edge of the hospital bed and let out a soft sigh. “What makes you think you can’t make it through nights? You were excited about it a few days ago.”
She lets out a small noise of discontent and still refuses to look at you, “Did Abbot tell you I freaked out?”
You shake your head softly, “He was just worried about you.”
“He wouldn’t have to be if he just let me go home.”
“Vic,” You turn to her and your voice goes soft. Gentle as you try to get your point across. “He made you stay in our guest room that night we stayed up too late finishing our Twilight marathon. You really think he would just let you walk out of this ED knowing how good and capable you are?”
There’s silence for a second. Then she takes another sip of her drink.
Until finally she tells you, “My…my mom was telling me about some of Walsh’s nightmare cases that she’s had to deal with. She said nights are - are reckless and hard and only the toughest people can handle them. And I know that was supposed to mean she didn’t think I could. And then Trinity had such a hard time and it basically convinced me I couldn't do it either. And I see how you guys walk out of here some mornings completely exhausted and it’s hard enough to make it through some days and I just don’t want to mess up.”
It takes you a second to figure out what to say. In that time Victoria moves to your side and collapses on the bed next to you. Her head falls on your shoulder and she takes another drink.
“I think you’re giving all of us way too much credit,” You finally tell her, trying to make her see she wasn’t much different from the rest of you. She was just as capable. “You’re putting us on a pedestal.”
She scoffs at that. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Have you met you guys?”
“Hey, I’m serious,” You tilt your head to look at her for a second. “You better hope Shen doesn’t hear you ever say that because that comment will go to his head.”
You successfully pull a laugh out of her and she feels better enough to lift her head again. “Seriously, though. I promise the only real difference between us and day shift is that we’re sleep deprived enough to know how to have fun. You, Dr. J, are practically built to fit right in.”
She rolls her eyes at your comment but then looks at you for real. “Promise?”
You only smile at her and nod towards the door. “Go find out.”
She regains her confidence easily after that. She jumps on cases left and right, slotting in beside Crus perfectly. When he asks her questions mid procedure she answers them without hesitation. He looks up, finds you across the room, and smiles, silently telling you she’s doing incredible.
Jack pulls her along with him on a few cases before she begs him to let her tag along with Ellis instead, who gets a more interesting case. He gives her a lecture about skipping around and picking patients before he sighs and lets her go anyway.
It’s only a surprise to her when she finds out she thrives here with all of you.
****
Jack was hiding.
He feels comfortable doing so. He has Ellis, Javadi, and Crus running the floor. He could afford to take advantage of the rare moment of downtime and sneak away for ten minutes. And if he pulled you along with him then that was his business.
He was doing it for you, that’s what he was telling himself. You had a long shift ahead of you and the least you deserved was to take advantage of the brief moment of respite for some peace and quiet.
Really he was selfish. He felt like he might genuinely spontaneously combust if he didn’t get a moment alone with you and fast. So maybe he was a little bit clingy.
In his defense though, you were addicting. The ease with which you moved together, completely in sync with one another. The smile you flashed him across the ED when you were split up. The way you just understood him.
And how you’d let him be a little bit clingy when he just needed a moment to ground himself. When he needed to come back down to earth and remember he was only human. To remember he lived and breathed for you. You’d become his lifeline and his vice wrapped in one perfect little package.
And he liked the day shift residents, he really did. They might not have been his officially but he’d always jump at the chance to teach them everything he wished he’d known when he was in their place.
Everything except this. How one day they’d find someone like you who took all the weight off their shoulders and bear it alongside them so it wouldn’t drown them.
Unfortunately it seemed like they’d already caught on.
Mel, Santos, and Javadi all knew. Mohan definitely knew which is how he’d gotten himself here in the first place. They’d flocked to you for a reason, one that was so much like his own. And that was fine.
He didn’t own you. He didn’t have exclusivity of the way you made everything bearable.
He was, however, madly and deeply in love with you. Beyond his ability to describe. And he did have a right to be clingy when he wanted to be. Especially when it felt like he'd barely gotten any time alone with you recently despite the fact that you woke up and fell asleep next to each other every single night.
Jack was already making a mental note to tell Shen just how much he appreciated him when he came back.
Currently the two of you are practically on top of each other on the tiny twin bed that sits in the center of the on-call room. Any other day you would’ve argued with Jack. You’d have given him that sly little smile and pulled him into the stairwell instead with a teasing look in your eyes.
But right now you were tired and Jack knew you better than anyone. He could see the exhaustion settling so deep into your bones that not even your second coffee of the night would be able to fix it. And he knew you’d never let anyone else see it. He knew you’d let them need you until the moment you walked through the door of your home with him and shut the world away.
So you let him pull you out of the chaos before it can run you ragged. Instead, you eagerly curl into his side, half on his lap, as you listen to him talk.
Attempt to listen, anyway. You don’t quite know what he’s saying. The sound of his voice and the warmth coming from his body against yours is putting you in a trance, the extra long shift you’re currently in the middle of already catching up to you.
You can feel your eyes getting heavy with sleep and the way he’s running one of his hands through your hair is definitely not helping either.
Then the door bursts open and all remnants of sleep leave you completely. Jack glares on instinct and then relaxes when he sees Javadi. He could excuse it this one time.
She does not hesitate before sinking down into the spinny chair that sits in the corner of the room beside a small coffee table.
“Dr. Abbot, I have this note for you.” Is all she says to announce herself, leaning forward to pass you the note to pass to him. She isn’t phased by this at all.
You, her, and Samira had gone to the art museum a few weeks ago. She’d gotten to yours and Jack’s place at around 9 and he’d answered the door in pajama bottoms and an old army shirt. Nothing could phase her after witnessing firsthand the easy domesticity oozing out of the two of you in the time you guys waited for Samira to let you know she was there.
Although she had entered with one eye screwed shut after Ellis told her she was playing a dangerous game bursting into a room where you and Jack were left together unsupervised. Just in case.
“A note?” Jack’s eyes narrow at her as he unfolds the paper. His eyes scan the piece of paper quickly and then he scoffs before handing it back to you. “Did you really waste an entire prescription sheet to scribble that down?”
You look at it and sure enough she had. Patient Name: Victoria Javadi. Instructions: Nap Time. Dosage: 20 Minutes. Repeat as needed until symptoms of sleepiness improve. Signed: @ doc.j on all socials
Complete with a heart at the end
“Yes!” Javadi flops backwards on the chair and she kicks off the ground, doing a full spin until she’s looking at the two again. “I’m exhausted. I’m pretty sure you’re breaking the law.”
“Oh really,” Jack raises a brow at her and pulls you closer to his side. “What law is that?”
“Don’t I get, like, a union mandated naptime,” She drops her head back and she’s looking at the two of you upside down now. “I’m pretty sure that’s a thing and you’re just not remembering.”
“Or you’re just being dramatic.”
“That’s rude. I’m the least dramatic person here, actually.” She spins again as she says it.
You feel Jack sigh against you. You look up at him from where your head is resting on his arm and he waits until Javadi does a third spin in the chair to kiss you. Soft and quick and a promise that he’s going to get you at least a few minutes to just sit down and breathe no matter how much you insist you don’t need it. He gently maneuvers out from under you and stretches as he stands up.
“Come on, kid,” He moves around the other side of the bed and stops Javadi’s chair mid spin. “Let’s go find you a patient.”
“But that’s the opposite of sleep.”
“Yeah but it’ll keep you awake and alert more than sleep will.” They walk out of the on-call room, Jack flashing you a wink before he closes the door softly.
You’ve only just laid back on the bed again when a soft knock sounds at the door and you sit up again.
“Hey, Sweets,” Crus looks apologetic when he opens the door all the way. “Can I get your help with a patient? We got swamped out of nowhere, everyone else is busy.”
“Only cause I like you,” You smile at him and push the exhaustion to the back of your mind. That wasn’t important anymore. “Don’t tell anyone I play favorites though, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
He steps back and lets you through the door first before he starts leading you towards the North wing. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
****
It’s exactly 7:43 AM when Eileen Shamsi steps out of the elevator. She’s wearing her perfectly pristine white lab coat and her face is contorted in barely controlled disgust at the sight of the already packed and busy ER.
Maybe it was your lack of sleep the last few days. Maybe it was the fact that you were nearing hour 13 of a 17 hour shift. Maybe it had just been brewing since Victoria Javadi had first confided in you, telling you all the fears and anxieties that consumed her because of her mother.
You drop the conversation you’re having with Ellis the moment you see her and beeline to Dr. Shamsi herself. Ellis follows, unsure whether she’ll have to hold you back or not.
You step right in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “Can I help you?”
Jack hears the tone in your voice from across the room. His head whips around to find you and he knows what’s about to happen. He’d known from the moment you told him what had been wrong with Javadi at the start of her shift.
When Javadi steps out of the room they’d been in he quickly spins her around so she can’t see the scene. He ushers her to the locker room, telling her she did good and she was good to go whenever she was ready.
“I’m looking for my daughter.” Dr. Shamsi barely spares you a glance, looking instead towards Ellis.
You side step to bring her attention back to you. “Is someone dying?”
She looks taken aback at the question and makes a face when she looks back at you. “Why I am here is none of your concern.”
“I’ll take that as a no then,” You give a small shrug and shake your head. “She’s a little busy right now. She saved a critical patient's life earlier and is running through her proposed treatment plan with Dr. Abbot and Dr. McCay, who will be taking over for her. She’s had a beautifully eventful night.”
“Well I need to see her.”
“And what I need is a nice, cold Raspberry Truffle Iced Macchiato with salted caramel cold foam and a white chocolate drizzle to get me through the rest of my day but we don’t always get what we want do we?”
You succeed in distracting her long enough for Jack to tell Victoria to get some sleep before she comes back later that night. She’s perfectly unaware of what’s going on as she walks out the door.
“You are more than welcome to check every single room in the emergency department if you’d like to find her. Although we’re in the middle of finishing rounds so you might have a lot of patients asking a lot of questions.”
Eileen Shamsi actually scoffs at you. Ellis’ eyes go wide and she’s seen you get angry enough times, usually at the more unruly patients, to know your patience has run out. There’s no predicting what you’ll say now. “This is insubordination.”
You suck a breath in from between your teeth and shrug. You take a step closer to her. She takes a step back.
“That’s where you’re wrong, doc. I don’t answer to you.” You stand your ground, not an ounce of hesitation in you.
She crosses her arms in front of her, “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Your head tips to the side and a smile flashes on your face. “See, I don’t like this little helicopter parent thing you try to play at. It undermines everything Victoria has learned and on top of that, every time you come down here with another pointless lecture it’s distracting to the doctors in my ED. And unlike those of you up in your cozy little offices on the top floor waiting for someone to come to you, we have real jobs to do.”
You can see the eavesdropping from everyone around you. You feel the tension in the air, thick enough to be sliced through with a dull scalpel. The smile never leaves your face.
Finally she scoffs again, making an attempt at staring you down. It doesn’t work. “I didn’t realize they gave the nurses free reign to act however they want down here.”
You don’t flinch at the accusation.
“They do when they’re capable. And I’m one of the best they’ve got,” You can see Jack now, having moved to your line of sight so he could get a better view. He’s not even making an effort to hide the smirk on his face. “If you excuse me, I’ve got things to do.”
“You’re insane,” Ellis whispers as she follows you, an amused laugh escaping her.
You only shrug, smiling back at her. “I said what I needed to.”
Jack reaches for you the moment you’re close enough to. One arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He doesn’t let you go this time. Instead he just whispers to you as you walk together, “You’re trouble, you know that?”
You happily settle into him, “Was that too much?”
“I actually don’t think you went hard enough,” He stops as you guys near a slightly calmer part of the ED. “But I do think you might need that third coffee.”
You beam at him when he says those words. “I really love you, you know that?”
He hums a bit as he stares you down, painfully aware of the people moving around you. “You love my car. And the fact that it drives to that cafe you like.”
He knows you so well, “That too.”
He can’t stay on shift, he knows that. But maybe he can linger long enough to distract you just a little bit. “You want some breakfast?”
There’s a new found light in your eyes at the prospect of something other than vending machine snacks. “I might actually propose to you if you bring me back some of those little quiches. And a croissant.”
“Deal.”
5. Caramel Apple Crisp Iced Macchiato
There were a few things Baran Al-Hashimi had learned for certain in the short time she’d been at the PTMC.
One, everyone here was severely overworked. It wasn’t anything new, she’d known exactly what she was getting herself into.
Two, the nurses were most definitely the backbone of the emergency department. It’d only taken a couple hours for her to trust every single one of them implicitly.
And three, no one would ever, ever hear Dr. Abbot ask for help at work. He was very good at helping others, incredible really. There was even a brief moment where she’d wondered why he wasn’t chief of the department. Until she realized he hated unnecessary responsibility as much as he loved spontaneous teaching moments. He didn’t like to think himself above others, hated it actually. And so, he’d never ask for backup. Even when he needed it.
“You’re going to what?”
“I’m going to give you an extra resident,” She simply gives him a calm smile. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she tips her head to the side, wordlessly daring him to argue with her. “Short term, for now. We’ll see how it goes at the end of this trial period and then reassess."
Jack’s entire face screws into offense. Mateo and Shen watch eagerly, lingering on the other side of the nurses station for much longer than they have to in an attempt to eavesdrop.
“No thanks,” Jack picks up a tablet and starts unlocking it. He’s not searching for anything in particular, he just wants an excuse to end this conversation. “We’re good. We’ve got a routine. And I don’t underestimate my doctors.”
“I’m not underestimating any of you,” Al-Hashimi shakes her head slowly, refusing to let him shut her down. “On the contrary. I think you have a lot to teach them.”
“And I will. When I happen to be here during the day,” He starts walking away from her. “Or when they get the misfortune of being stuck with me on nights every now and then.”
“Dr. Abbot,” She says it in a way that stops him in his tracks, in a way that demands his attention. He slowly turns around to face her again and she lets out a gentle sigh. “I don’t know if you know this but I’ve already seen a remarkable difference in how Doctors Santos and Javadi approach their practices and they didn’t even spend that long with you. They grew in just those few hours.”
“Of course they did,” Jack’s eyes flicker across the room, spotting both of them still maneuvering their way between patients. Santos has called dibs on you already, pulling you in to help her put a cast on her patient. Shen is with Javadi now, running through possible diagnoses with her. Ellis, Crus, and Nazely are following the rest of the residents, walking themselves through the remaining handoffs. “Wasn’t just cause of me though.”
“My point exactly.” Al-Hashimi smiles again, successfully running him in a mental circle and leading him to the same point she was trying to make all along. “You all bring something very valuable to this department.”
Jack can’t argue there. He finally sighs and leans back against the central counter, knowing that once Al-Hashimi made up her mind there was no changing it. “Who are you giving me?”
-Day Three-
“I don’t think he likes me.”
Shen’s statement pulls you out of the conversation you’re having with Mateo while putting in orders for patients. He slides in between the two of you in an attempt to blend in. As if he isn’t a good several inches taller than you both and wearing different colored scrubs.
“What are you talking about?” You look away from your lab results that had just come in and turn to look at him.
“Whitaker,” He nods his head to the side, subtly motioning to where Whitaker was clutching a tablet in his hands tightly while running something past Jack. “I don’t think he likes me. I think he might actually hate me.”
Mateo’s laugh cuts through the otherwise soft buzz that filled the ED. He laughs more when Shen looks at him offended, “You’re insane.”
“It’s true!” Shen looks between the two of you and crosses his arms. “He’s been here for three days and I think we’ve had maybe a single conversation so far. And you’d think I was torturing it out of him.”
“It’s probably not as bad as you think.” You offer and he shakes his head.
“Sweets, the kid runs away from me every time he asks me a question. He always looks like he wants to say something and then his eyes do that big sad thing and he runs away. He isn’t like that with you guys.”
“Shen. John. Sweetheart,” You’re trying your hardest not to also laugh at the idea of what he’s saying. Instead you offer him a smile and shake your head, “I don’t think Dennis could hate anyone if he tried.”
He doesn’t believe you. You can tell. “Well what’s his deal then, huh?”
You turn to look at him again and this time the conversation Jack is having with him looks different. You recognize it. You’ve seen him do it plenty of times over the last few weeks. He’s good at it, no matter how much he pretends he isn’t. He’s standing a little closer to Whitaker now and his arms have uncrossed, opting instead to stick his hands in his pockets.
He leans a little closer and tips his head, fighting to get Whitaker to actually look at him and not fold himself away. When he finally does he takes it as a win and nods. He puts a hand on Whitaker’s shoulder and gives a gentle shake, finally satisfied when he returns the smile and moves to go back to his patient.
Whitaker looks over before he walks back into the room and meets your eye. He waves at you easily and then notices Mateo and Shen. He gives them both a tense smile and that’s when you crack the code like it’s nothing.
“He’s just nervous,” You tell them, lowering your voice a little bit. “He’s been on day shift since he started with the same handful of people and never anyone else. We’re gonna take some getting used to, we’re kind of a lot.”
The logic doesn’t do much to ease Shen. “Well he’s fine with you and Jack.”
“Okay well, I was halfway through my post grad residency when he started as a med student and we bonded over being new to all of this.”
You feel it then. An arm wraps around your waist and you’d know Jack anywhere. He does the same thing he always does when he just needs you near for a few seconds. He shifts you over a little bit and lets you go, not technically touching you but practically occupying the same little bubble of space you are. He hovers close by, enough so that he could reach over and hold your hand in his without stretching if he really wanted to.
“And what about him?” Shen crosses his arms when he nods towards Jack. “I’m more easily approachable than he is, aren’t I?”
Jack looks between the three of you and then takes a step closer to you, trying to figure out if maybe he could piece together the conversation just from standing near you. “What are you talking about, I’m a ray of sunshine.”
Mateo laughs again and shakes his head, “That’s almost funnier than Whitaker hating him.”
“Whitaker? Hate?” That catches Jack off guard. “I don’t think that kid even knows what that word means.”
“I hate when you guys agree on something.” Shen is about to give up and settle for a lifetime of not knowing why Dennis Whitaker runs away from him.
But then Jack sidesteps to stop him from walking away and says, “Go invite him to breakfast with us.”
Shen frowns and looks around the ED, checking to see if he was missing something. Maybe there was a fire he hadn’t seen yet. “We’re not going to breakfast?”
It wasn’t something unusual, necessarily. Breakfast trips were just usually reserved for the mornings after a long shift. Ones where none of you got the chance to breathe, let alone stop and have a real conversation. It helped bring you all back down to earth, to make everything feel real and in control again. This felt equally important in this moment.
“We are now,” Jack shrugs like it’s nothing. “On me. Now go ask him to go with us and ask him what he likes. And make sure you sit next to him when we get there.”
Shen thinks about it for a second and seems to decide that this is a plan that’ll definitely work. He walks away and you watch as he strategically hovers outside the door until Whitaker walks out. You, Jack, and Mateo watch the conversation play out until Whitaker smiles, nods, and walks away from Shen. And at a perfectly normal pace. Shen, meanwhile, looks ecstatic when he turns and gives you guys a double thumbs up.
“Well would you look at that,” Mateo reaches for his badge as he steps back towards one of the computers, continuing with what he’d been doing before. “Mom and dad are helping the kids play nice.”
“Forgive me for wanting my ED to run smoothly.” Jack rolls his eyes at the statement but moves closer to you anyway. There’s one of those comments again. The ones that linger in his brain for a lot longer than necessary.
So maybe this whole dynamic that you all had going on was a little odd. But it was also functional. It made the long days and longer nights easier. And maybe that was enough to excuse it.
-Day Eight-
“I have done you a great disservice. I betrayed you.” You announce yourself as you march right up to Dennis. He glances at you in between shoving his things in his locker.
“For sure, yeah,” He nods, shuts the locker door, and looks at you, leaning against the cold metal on one shoulder. “What did you do, again?”
You don’t say anything. You simply hold out a drink to him. He looks at the cup, large and dripping condensation on your hands. He thinks vaguely of the cup he’d seen already half drunk on the desk out in central.
Your name had been written in bubble letters with a heart after it. Shen had dutifully informed him that he could ask for anything he wanted from the cafe down the street, the baristas there loved you and Jack. It was the reason the two of you were always the ones sent on coffee runs now, they never minded the obscene amount of items you guys would order. The massive tip Jack always left them definitely helped.
He can see his own name scrawled on the plastic of the one you’re handing him with a smiley face after it along with ‘enjoy!!’.
“I see,” Dennis takes the cup from you and eyes it before looking up at you. “I’m being hazed.”
You roll your eyes and hand him the straw. “You’re being a drama queen, I’d hardly call a fun drink hazing.”
He sticks the straw through the lid and the two of you walk out of the locker room. “It is when you have psychic powers and you’re guessing whether or not I'll like it.”
“I haven’t been wrong yet,” The buzz of the ED floods the space around you. “Just try it. You’ll like it, I swear.”
“Honey, you’ll scare him if you keep it up,” Jack doesn’t even look up from where he’s typing something on one of the computers.
You grin as you spot him. As if you hadn’t just left his side minutes ago. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and kiss the top of his head, pausing to brush a slightly too long curl back into its place.
Your eyes narrow again as you look at Dennis over the top of Jack’s head. “Well it’s not my fault Whitaker is afraid of trying new things.”
“Now who’s being dramatic,” He swirls the straw in his drink and wonders if you’ll kill him if he were to lie and tell you he doesn’t like coffee all that much. He was never really good at accepting gifts. “What is it?”
“I’ll tell you after you try it.”
So he finally does. He can feel you staring at him. He can also feel Jack staring, apparently deciding that whatever important thing he’d been doing wasn’t as interesting as this. And suddenly he understands what everyone’s been talking about.
He’s experiencing first hand the care you put into unraveling all the small little bits of information that make people up. The ability you have to look at someone, see them for who they are, and act accordingly. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the quiet of your home or the emergency department or picking out a drink you think they’ll like. You make them feel seen either way.
You’d joked about it but he’d seen the brief concern in your eyes when you’d walked up to him and held out the drink, afraid you’d hurt him somehow when you’d accidentally forgotten to read him in this way that was uniquely yours. The same way he’d seen right through Jack when he insisted someone new had to cover Shen’s shifts a while back.
Something warm settles inside him at the fact that you’d pin pointed him so accurately it was truly a little insane. Just like you had everyone else. He wasn’t used to being perceived in this way.
“It’s okay.” He takes another sip. A longer one.
You can see him smile around the straw and you match the look, knowing you’re right again. Jack goes back to actually working, thoroughly amused. “It’s a Caramel Apple Crisp Iced Macchiato.”
“Why’d you pick it?” He needs to know what you see in him. What you’re perceiving. Why you’re so right about every single one of them.
“A magician never reveals their secrets,” You kiss the top of Jack’s head again and he reaches up to silently squeeze your hand in acknowledgement. Dennis looks away, afraid he’s intruding on the soft moment. Then you let Jack go and instead reach out to grab him, pulling him away from the computers. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Let’s go find a job to do.”
-Day Sixteen-
“You know this is weird right?” Trinity spins in her chair to look at Whitaker. She’d taken a brief pause in her last chart to watch him walk through the ambulance bay doors, settled comfortably on the other side of Jack as the three of you walked in together.
“What are you talking about?” Dennis frowns, not quite following.
It’d become part of the routine. Him and Trinity lived on your way into the hospital. That was it. It just made sense for him to carpool with you and Jack. Save gas in this economy or whatever. It was the same reason Samira usually drove Trinity home and dropped Javadi off wherever she was due to avoid her mom that day.
“You’re third wheeling our attending and his girlfriend,” She crosses her arms in front of her and tries not to laugh at the way his whole face scrunches up in distaste at the wording.
“Well when you put it like that it sounds bad.”
“No it’s not bad,” One corner of Trinity’s mouth quirks up and she shrugs. “They just saw you from across the pitt and liked your vibe.”
“Okay,” He pushes himself off the side of the table he’d been leaning on. “We’re done.”
“They just like you that’s all,” Trinity sits up in her chair and does laugh a little bit that time. “Don’t let the patients catch on though. I heard someone wondering if they’d take a third. You might have to fight people off.”
“You are insufferable sometimes,” Dennis knows his face is going red and it only makes Trinity look even more smug.
“Don’t be mean to her,” Right on cue. Your voice cuts through the laughing and Trinity very quickly puts an innocent pout on her face when you join them. You wrap an arm around her shoulders and rest your head on top of hers.
Trinity is wearing a shit eating as she reaches up and hugs you back. “Yeah, don’t be mean to me.”
Dennis has to bite his tongue to actively hold back his defense. There was no way you could find out what they’d been talking about.
“Hey,” You look at him as you lift your head, still not letting go of Trinity. “Do you wanna go to the farmers market with me after shift? It’s almost Shen’s one year anniversary of being an attending and one of the booths sells this bourbon infused honey he really likes to put in his coffee. He and Jack have a meeting with Al-Hashimi in the morning and if we go fast we can be back before they’re done.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Dennis agrees immediately and you smile, finally letting go of Trinity.
“Perfect, we’ll sneak out right after rounds?”
“I’ll meet you outside.” The second you’ve turned around and walked away he points an accusing finger at Trinity, who looks incredibly amused. “Don’t say a word.”
She holds back a laugh, “I’m not gonna.”
“Yes you are, I can feel it.”
She tries, she really does, but it comes out anyway. “Should I expect you to move out and into their guest room some time soon?”
“Goodbye, Trin.”
“So is that a yes?”
And then, as if the universe is out to get him, Abbot calls his name from the ambulance bay doors without even really knowing where he is. He just says it instinctively.
“Whitaker,” He looks around until he finds him and then nods, beckoning him over. “Come jump on this trauma with me.”
He doesn’t even dare looking back at Trinity again. He does, however, hear her burst out laughing as he walks away.
-Day Twenty Three-
Nazely hadn’t been at the PTMC for very long but she was starting to think that maybe she was lied too. Part of her was convinced that Sweets might actually be your real name. She’d rarely heard you called otherwise by anyone.
“You’re the best, Sweets.” When you hand Mateo his drink.
“Sweets, can I steal you for a sec?” When Shen needs help out in triage.
“Abbot, when are you gonna let me steal Sweets again? You can’t hog her forever.” When Walsh lingers in the ER after bringing a patient back down from surgery.
So, naturally, she uses the name for you too. Just like she uses everyone else’s name.
“Hi, Sweets,” She grins at you when she sees you walk in. On one side of you, “Dennis,” and on the other side, “Jack.”
She really doesn’t think twice about it.
Jack, however, is jump scared. He wasn’t used to hearing his name come from many people at work. You used it, obviously. Shen also did, he’d weaseled his way into becoming probably one of his closest friends. Every now and then someone else would say it, usually when the line bled from professionalism into exhaustion after long hours.
Hearing it said so casually was…odd. “Was that weird?”
“Was what weird?” You ask, seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest.
“My name.” Jack turns to Whitaker next, brows furrowed in complete confusion.
“I call you that?” Whitaker shrugs as the three of you stop at central, waiting for you to drop off whatever you need to leave behind the desk. “Not here but still.”
“Yeah but that’s different,” Jack shakes his head as if that should be obvious. “I know where you live. I’m supposed to be intimidating. I’m intimidating, right?”
He’s looking at you again and you nod quickly, flashing him a smile, “You’re terrifying.”
Jack knows you’re lying. He turns to Whitaker again. “I’m scary.”
Whitaker looks at you and you give him a small nod. Play along. “Definitely.”
Except Whitaker then watches Jack for a second. He’s still holding his matcha, a salted maple one today, and leaning against the desk beside you. He watches as Jack pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and you smile at him. Then, wordlessly, he moves behind you. He puts his drink down and instead gathers your hair back. He pulls a hair tie off his own wrist, one of the extras he always has on him, and ties it back for you.
Whitaker looks down quickly, as if he’s intruding on something he isn’t supposed to be again, and smiles. And thinks he could get used to this. Nights. The pointless conversations and gentle moments and calling each other by first names. As much as he loves the day shift, this is something that makes him feel comfortable. Like he belongs.
Maybe that’s why he does it.
“I disagree.”
It’s well into the night now and the trauma room they’re in goes quiet. Whitaker is suddenly much too aware of every single person in there. Nazely’s eyes go wide from beside him. Mateo looks back and forth between him and Jack. Even Crus pauses for a second to see how this is going to play out.
Jack pauses, halfway through pulling off his gloves already. “I’m sorry?”
“I think you’re looking at it the wrong way,” Whitaker takes a step forward. He doesn’t back down.
He runs through everything they know. Their patient, their injuries, medical history, prescriptions, what the EMT’s had found out on scene. And he can see why Jack makes the conclusion he does and why everyone else agrees. It was textbook.
But he puts the logical assumptions they usually make aside, looks at it from the patients point of view instead. And it leads him somewhere else.
“I know it might not be necessary but I think we should do it just in case,” Whitaker tries his hardest not to shrink under the way Jack is looking at him. “If I'm wrong then that’s fine. But if I’m right it’s better we catch it earlier.”
It’s quiet for another second. And then the nitrile gloves snap as Jack finishes pulling them off and he nods. “Alright. Order the labs. Central 9 is open last I heard, let’s get him moved in there,” And then to Whitaker. “He’s yours now. Keep me updated.”
It's only thirty minutes later when the lab work comes back.
Whitaker is looking at it on the screen and doesn’t even notice Jack standing right behind him, looking at the results over his shoulder until he says, “You were right.”
Whitaker jumps and quickly backs up against the standing desk he’s at. “Maybe a little warning next time?”
Jack smirks and shrugs, “My ED, we’ll see.” He looks back at the lab results and doesn’t look back at him when he says, “You did good, kid. It’s about time you argued with me about something.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Whitaker quickly adds, realizing all of a sudden that this is his attending and they are at work. There was supposed to be a clear dynamic. “I just -”
“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Jack cuts him off before he can start. “Disagreeing with me is practically a right of passage here, ask anyone. You’re a good doctor, stop pretending you aren’t just because you don’t feel okay pushing back sometimes. You’re one of us now, we can take it.”
Jack doesn’t say anything else. He claps him on the shoulder before walking to wherever he was off to next.
The words stick with him. You’re one of us now.
He thinks of them the entire rest of his shift. Then the entire way home, as you’re recounting a story from triage they’d missed earlier that night from the front seat. Again when you and Jack pick him up again and when he clocks in for the next night's shift he feels lighter on his feet. Like maybe, finally, he’s settled. He likes it here, he decides. Maybe the night shift wasn’t as bad as people assumed it was.
+1. Toasted Coconut Cold Brew, extra sugar
Jack could admit when he was wrong. Maybe Al-Hashimi had been on to something. Honestly, he was sure that he could get used to this.
His team was good. He knew they were. He had more confidence in them than anyone else in the ED. Still, that didn’t mean they didn’t appreciate the extra coverage when they were given it. And having Whitaker there consistently over the last month had been a godsend.
Tonight was his last shift on nights and he knows they’re all wondering the same thing. What would they have to do to get him switched permanently. Whitaker doesn’t seem to mind the idea. They don’t know that he and Javadi are in the process of duking it out to get Al-Hashimi to let one of them switch permanently.
You know it was a rough morning. Not only because Donnie had been keeping you updated on everything you were missing in the nurses group chat but also because Dana is sitting still, something she never does. She’s hovering at central when you walk in with Whitaker and Jack and staring off into space for a moment. A clear sign it’d been a long day.
You silently hand her a well needed dose of caffeine the moment you see her, a toasted coconut cold brew with extra extra sugar. She looks at you and you can hear what she wants to say without her having to say it. You’re a life saver, kid.
She settles into her spot for a second with a soft sigh. You don’t notice when she turns to eavesdropping on the conversation you’re having with Whitaker and watches out of the corner of her eye.
Not a single one of them can deny the effect you seem to have on everyone, the residents especially. They can all see it clearly.
The ease in Mel’s shoulders when she came back in, more willing to assert herself. The way Santos took a second to listen now, looking at things past her first instinct. The confidence Javadi carried with her, not holding herself back anymore.
And now Whitaker. An easy smile on his face and for the first time in the entire time he’d been at the PTMC he took up space and stopped making himself easy to handle. He argued and stood firm in what he thought and even bickered sometimes. Over what he thought was the right course of action and for fun. Loudly. For all Dana knew you night shift dwellers could’ve replaced her mousy little resident with a clone of himself and she just wasn’t made aware.
You’ve maneuvered your way behind the counter and Jack stands close at your side, taking advantage of the fact that it’s not 7:00 PM yet. It’s 6:58 and he has no plans to leave your side until he absolutely has to.
He was not being clingy that time. He was just tired. That was definitely all. The two of you had been up a lot longer than you should’ve been after the night before for various reasons. This wasn’t even that bad compared to how he could be. He’s got one arm on the counter, leaning on it while his body is faced towards you.
Whitaker is leaning towards you over the other side of the counter, practically invading the other half of your personal space and Dana thinks it’s crazy that you don’t feel smothered by them. They’re both stuck to you like glue. She decides that is none of her business.
She watches as night shift starts trickling in. Whitaker nods at Shen in greeting as he walks past, flashing a grin at him while still deep in conversation with you. Then he gives both Mateo and Crus a fist bump when they come in. A few minutes later Ellis follows and she pats him on the shoulder and he smiles back at her and they do a handshake only they seem to know. Dana raises a brow at that one and takes a sip of her coffee.
He doesn’t even look like he’s questioning every word he says as he talks to Jack. Jack Abbot. His attending. He even goes as far as to joke with him the way he only ever has with Santos in moments they think no one is watching.
And Dana is so sure of the choice she’s already made.
“It’s a gift,” You roll your eyes at Whitaker and he shakes his head, looking away so you don’t see the grin he holds back. “It doesn’t count as one if you pay me back for it.”
He shakes his head and stirs the straw in his drink. “There’s literally no reason for you to get me a gift though.”
“Oh, I can't get my friend something nice for making it through the last four weeks?”
“Don’t believe her,” Jack sets one hand on your hip as he leans in closer to look over you so he can see Whitaker past you. His voice lowers like he’s telling him a secret, like you aren’t right there between them. “It’s a bribe to try to get you to stay on nights.”
“You weren’t supposed to tell him,” You turn your head and shake your head at him and he only smiles at you, holding back every instinct of his that’s begging to kiss you in the middle of the ED. “Besides, it was his idea.”
“It was not.” Jack scoffs at your accusation. One that’s absolutely correct.
“Liar.”
“I refuse to participate in this,” Whitaker shakes his head and lets out a smile that time. There was something about being on nights that made him feel a sense of camaraderie with everyone that he hadn’t felt before. He hadn’t just worked with new people, he’d made friends. And maybe part of why he felt so comfortable was this exact reason. The way you dragged him into these things so easily. It made him feel included. He was gonna miss it on days. “Not part of my job description anymore.”
“Oh come on,” You give him a pout and Jack rolls his eyes at your antics. “You’re gonna miss us, admit it.”
“Ellis, Crus, and Shen for sure. Abbot a little bit. Definitely Lena and Mateo,” He tips his head to the side and then flashes you a look that borders on a smirk and shrugs. “I think that’s it.”
“You’re so mean,” You’re actively fighting the smile from appearing. “You’re uninvited to your goodbye breakfast in the morning.”
“We’ll see where you stand on that an hour from now.” He only nods, finally standing up straight and taking a sip of his drink to prove his point. The one you’d bought for him.
He moves to walk away but not before holding his hand out for your second coffee. You hand it to him easily and he takes it along with his drink you’d brought him, heading towards the break room to put them both in the fridge. Whitaker, unlike most of you, had a little bit of self control and didn’t usually chug his way through his drink.
“Seriously,” You turn to face Jack once he’s gone. “Can we keep him? Do you think they’ll let us?”
Jack indulges you. He always does.
“I don’t know, he’s pretty valuable,” His eyes scan your face, bouncing back and forth until they land on your lips, still pouting at him. He debates how badly both Dana and Lena will yell at him if he kisses you right here with patients all around. “We might have to fight for him.”
There’s a ding on your phone before you can answer. When you pull it out to glance at it quickly in case it’s something important you immediately forget anything you’d been about to say.
Dennis Whitaker paid you $7 - bc i’ll miss u the most (real)
“Dennis Whitaker!” You shout in the middle of the ED and you turn around to go hunt him down.
Dana stops you. His only saving grace.
“Not so fast, kid,” Dana reaches out for you and grabs your arm gently before you can walk past her. She looks at you for a second and then notices the way Jack is listening closely, having zeroed in very quickly on this interaction. She looks at him then and puts on a mask of distaste. “Don’t you have patients to go see?”
He checks his watch. 7:00 PM on the dot. “Not yet, technically. Board hasn’t changed.”
“So help me god I will -”
“Alright, alright. Message received,” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m going.”
Jack walks away and strategically hovers in Dana’s blindspot, making it a point to eavesdrop out of curiosity.
Dana just watches you for a second. She looks you up and down. She thinks of you when you first came into the PTMC. Competent and determined to do the most good you could. You’d been eager and loud and asked questions she hadn’t been able to predict, ones other nurses who had come and gone wouldn’t have even thought of. She loved you immediately. And now here you are. On your own and somehow, someway having solidified yourself as an absolutely integral part of the night shift ecosystem that Jack Abbot had crafted carefully over the years.
And he’d apparently decided that had to carry over in his own home. She certainly had her opinions on how quickly he’d pulled you in but if the constantly present lovey-dovey look on your face was any indication then the feeling was absolutely mutual.
You look strangely alive with him and that was really all that mattered. It made her smile as much as she pretended it didn’t.
Finally she asks you, “How you likin’ nights so far?”
Your eyes narrow at her and she laughs. You could see through her as well as she could you. “Is there a reason you’re asking now and not a few months ago?”
She shrugs, “Just wonderin’.”
You don’t believe her for a second but you think about it anyway. You think about the last few months and how it had turned completely upside down from how you’d first envisioned it. You think about how it had been on days. And then you answer without hesitation. “I really love it actually. More than I thought I would.”
“Really,” Dana raises a brow at you and crosses her arms. “How much of it is cause of Romeo over there?”
She nods towards where she knows Jack is hovering, doing him the kindness of pretending she doesn’t notice.
“Please, I’d tell you if any of it was and when have I ever lied to you,” You laugh a little at the look she gives you, a mom look if you ever saw one. Your face softens then and she straightens, silently telling you she was there for whatever you were about to confide in her for. “I am serious, though.”
“Yeah?”
You nod and you don’t hesitate to tell her the truth.
“It’s a lot harder than days, definitely. I mean, neither of them are easy, obviously. But there’s more routine with days, you can almost prepare yourself. You don’t get that with nights. All you can do is buckle up and hope for the best and I think I’ve gotten really good at that. Nights are when people are the most vulnerable and scared, when they aren’t afraid of hiding it anymore. They need someone who’s gonna take a little bit of whatever is being thrown at them off their shoulders and I’m good at that. If I can help even a little, then being a bit sleep deprived all the time isn’t really a bad thing.”
“I think you’re good at it too, kid,” Dana smiles at you, genuinely that time. Then she pauses for another second before asking, “You wanna switch back to days?”
You freeze, “What?”
Jack, who’d been about to walk away and mind his business, falters. Suddenly he’s hovering again.
“Temporarily,” Dana adds on quickly. “I have a six week cruise calling my name, gift from my sister-in-law. Gloria already approved you taking over for me while I'm gone.”
You laugh a little bit, filled with nothing but shock. “You’re not serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be, Sweets?”
“Well,” You point behind her at where Princess and Perlah are standing. You’re so caught off guard by the question that you don’t even notice they’re only there because Jack had quickly recruited them to help hide him in the background behind them so he could move closer. “What about them?”
“Oh absolutely not.”
“Never in a million years.”
“See?” Dana shrugs easily as if that explains everything. “You’re my best bet, kid.”
“Well,” You struggle to find an argument. “Why me?”
Because she trusts you. “Cause you’ve done it before. And very well might I add.”
“Yeah, for like five hours,” You cross your arms in front of you and shuffle on your feet. “That hardly counts.”
“Does too, that’s almost half a shift. The place didn’t burn down did it?”
“That’s like the bare minimum.”
“Sweets,” She finally says as she sets one hand on the counter, the other still holding her drink. She leans forward towards you, lowering herself a bit so she’s eye level with you. “You got this. I know you can run this place the way I do. And so do they.”
She nods vaguely to her side, in the direction of the rest of the entirety of the ED. Princess gives you a thumbs up from behind her and Perlah nods enthusiastically.
“Please say yes,” Jesse shows up out of nowhere, hands squeezing your shoulders in greeting before he leans on the counter next to you. “She’s gonna make one of us do it if you say no.”
“Oh no,” You turn to him and give a mock frown. “Not more work.”
He rolls his eyes at you and then looks at Dana. “She takes after you.”
And it's true. She’d taught you everything she knew and you soaked up every bit of it.
You think for a moment again. You’d gotten used to nights incredibly quickly. It was your home. Where you thrived. But a part of you missed this exact thing sometimes though. The first people you knew here, the ones who’d taught you. The ones you kept close, carrying parts of them with you always. If they trusted you…
“Gloria really said yes already?”
“She took very little convincing.”
“And Lena?”
“I’ve never seen her sign off on something so fast.”
“Okay, that hurts a little bit.”
“She just knows how good you are too. You’re the only one we’re waiting for.”
You bite your bottom lip and drop your head back to look at the fluorescent lit ceiling. Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you weigh the choice to yourself. You sigh as you look at Dana again, “Six weeks?”
“That’s right.”
There’s another few seconds of suspense and you can feel all of them staring at you. And then finally, “Okay. I’ll do it.”
Jack watches the way they cheer and then excitedly crowd around you from afar. And he’s happy for you, he really is. He’s proud of you and he’s absolutely going to tell you so as soon as you tell him later and he pretends to not already know. He’s also devastated. He already doesn’t know what they expect him to do with himself. How could he possibly survive the next six weeks if he didn’t have you by his side.
Whitaker walks past him in that exact moment, on his way to look at the board that has now officially changed, the names of everyone on the night shift taking place of the day shift. Jack grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back in a single quick move.
He stumbles back and Jack steadies him before he can fall.
“You don’t want to switch places do you?” The question escapes Jack on its own and Whitaker looks confused for only a second. “You can stay on nights and I’ll take your place on days.”
Silence. And then Whitaker notices you still standing with Dana. Perlah, Princess, and Jesse are all hovering now too. Then Donnie and Vivi join you and they know from the ecstatic looks on everyone else’s faces that you said yes. He connects the dots easily enough. He heard about it from Santos who heard from Princess a few days ago. He figured it was none of his business.
He stands upright again and tries really hard not to laugh a little bit. He returns the gesture and sets a hand on Jack’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes before shaking his head once.
“Not a chance. Good luck.”
note pt. 2: shen one hundred percent went to see sabrina carpenter i don't make the rules (javadi got the pink camaraderie shirt in case anyone was wondering)
synopsis: jack abbot is obsessed with you and he's going to make it everybody else's problem
- or -
5 moments the night shift (and co) observes between you and jack + the 1 they don't
contains: bsf night shift crew!! dana & the pittlings cameo, he fell first AND he fell harder, age gap (reader is in her 20's), suggestive at times, everyone calls reader sweets, no use of y/n, jack is probably ooc but i refuse to believe that man does not yearn deeply and he is written so, and most importantly: NIGHT SHIFT SUPREMACY
note: first fic for the pitt because i think i might have actually read my way through every fic on here and i crave more pls be nice to me :') this started off as a completely different fic and then it became this instead so there's a half written part 2 (and a part 3 …) if anyone really wants it. yes i did write this instead of the giant piles of actual work i have to do i hope you enjoy <3
dividers by @uzmacchiato <3
1. The Crush
It’s been exactly one week since you joined the night shift. Six days, twenty three hours, and thirty one minutes technically speaking but who was counting.
In that time you’d made yourself indispensable. You were one of the most competent nurses to ever walk through the doors of the PTMC. You were practically hard wired to thrive in the absolute chaos of the night. And, best of all, you’d become Shen’s caffeine addicted partner in crime. Five out of your last seven days you’d dragged him into a pre-shift coffee run and he always complied with your demands.
The night shift wasn’t easy for just anyone to take to. It was hard and yet here you were, doing it all flawlessly. And Jack couldn’t look away. Not that he’d ever want to.
It’d taken no time at all, about five hours into your first shift, for him to become borderline obsessed. All it took was one conversation in the ambulance bay just after midnight. A joke cracked under the light of the full moon, one that broke through the stern expression he’d had on with no hesitation at all, for Jack to want to know every single little detail that made up who you were.
In a normal way of course.
Now here he was. Watching. Eyes following you as you walked into the ED beside Shen, both of you carrying trays piled high with various hot and iced drinks. He can’t imagine how much even one of those things cost.
Within moments most of the drinks are gone, taken by Ellis and Lena and whoever else had placed their order with the two of you the night before. Jack, for just a moment, regrets not having done so. Not that he even likes the sugary sweet monstrosities you always chug your way through before midnight, always somehow armed with another one to get you through your second half of the night.
He’d pretend though. Especially if it meant you’d stop and smile at him and maybe even talk to him for just a couple seconds about something not medicine related before diving into the mayhem.
“Hey!” Your voice isn’t a hallucination, Jack determines when he sees you walking up to him with a smile.
He tries not to look too surprised. Or flustered. Or excited. “Hi.”
Nailed it.
“I brought you something.”
Jack thinks he might melt into the floor.
You hold out a drink, one clearly meant for him. It’s green on top and pink on bottom with strawberry slices floating above the ice.
“You didn’t have to.” He takes it from you and relishes in the brief moment that his hand touches yours. You need to calm down, he thinks to himself.
“I know, I wanted to. It’s on me.” You say it so easily and Jack thinks now might be a good time to excuse himself and go jump off the roof because he can feel his whole body warming in a way it shouldn’t be at the sentiment.
You’d thought of him. Part of him wonders how long you’d been doing that for and if it was for as long as he’d been thinking of you. Day and night. Hour after hour. In ways he definitely shouldn’t be.
“I just figured you could use a little caffeine that wasn’t the stale black coffee in the break room for once,” You shrug like it’s nothing but it means everything to him. “As a certified drink specialist I thought you might like this one. Shen said I was crazy for picking it but I spent every minute I was awake looking through the cafe's menu debating and I think I finally narrowed down something to live up to your incredibly high standards.”
Jack had stopped listening as soon as you looked up at him. Wide eyed and a little nervous but with that sweet smile he was maybe just a little bit obsessed with already. “What is it?”
Frankly, he didn’t really care. He’d love it no matter what because you’d been the one to hand it to him. You’d put effort into finding something you thought he’d like and that was more than enough for him.
“An iced strawberry oat milk matcha. It’s not too sweet but definitely a step up from a black coffee. I,” You stop yourself for a second, hesitating a little. One look from him though, one that practically begged you to continue, and you kept going. “I see the face you make when you drink it even when it’s fresh so I thought we’d switch it up a little.”
You’d noticed him. He was one more observation away from imploding. He swirled the drink around to distract himself from the fact and then took a huge gulp.
“Holy shit,” His eyes went wide as he took a second to savor the drink. It was good. Really good. He had no clue how you’d figured him out so perfectly. Part of him was hopeful enough to think that you just knew him. Saw him. He took another sip.
“You like it?” You were beaming at him now, satisfied and proud of yourself.
He couldn’t be more obsessed with you if he tried. He was tempted to propose marriage right then and there. Instead all he said was, “This is phenomenal.”
Jack couldn’t help himself. He looked directly at you and hoped that maybe these abilities of yours to read him perfectly well extended past the drinks and you’d be able to look into his head to see what he really wanted to say. You’re phenomenal. I like you. Probably more than is healthy. Never leave me, actually.
“Oh you’re kidding,” Jack had almost forgotten where he was until Shen walked over, handing you a half drunk iced coffee along with a fresh one for later, just like usual. “He liked it?”
“Just like I said,” You held up your hand for a high five, which Shen gave you despite dropping his head and groaning. “Which means you’re buying for me tomorrow.”
Jack rolled his eyes at the sight of the two of you. His smile pushed through the serious facade he was trying to put on. Nothing could ruin his mood right now he was positive of it.
“Is it that surprising?” Jack held his drink a little tighter and held back the urge to take another sip of it. He was seriously already starting to understand your guys' shared obsession with always having some kind of drink on you.
“No, it’s just,” Shen paused for a moment and it hit him all at once. Abbot was in a good mood. And all it’d taken was a personal delivery straight from you. He was wearing a smile, a genuine one. Best of all, his eyes kept straying back to you. Like you were some kind of magnet pulling him in against his will. Oh yeah, he’s obsessed. “I’m glad you found something you like.”
Jack heard it. The tone. His eyes snapped back to Shen and narrowed the slightest bit. All he did in response was wink at him and take a sip of his first coffee of the night.
He could see right through him.
2. The Confession
It had been three days of this and every time Jack saw you he felt the question at the tip of his tongue. And every time something else came out instead. So here he was. Two weeks into your time here and he was obsessed with you. That much he could admit.
If he wasn’t he wouldn’t be lingering by the nurses desk, pretending to look at a stack of papers he was pretty sure were blank. Every few seconds he glances up to where you were deep in a conversation with Ellis and Walsh. The three of you had gotten yourself partnered on the same case and were taking advantage of the fact that your patient was doing perfectly after surgery to actually talk about something normal while you could since you found yourselves with a little downtime.
“You don’t have to hover, you know.”
Jack freezes.
He thinks he might’ve actually stopped breathing. He knows exactly what Lena’s talking about though and he’s determined to lie his way through it.
“What?”
Okay, maybe not the best start. He doesn’t look up from where he’s pretending to flip through whatever papers were in front of him. Definitely not eavesdropping.
“Oh, please,” Lena rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair. “She’s not gonna disappear into thin air. You can get work done and I promise she’ll be there after.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Jack betrays himself when he glances back over in your direction. He smiles to himself when he sees you laugh, a beaming grin on your face. When he looks back towards Lena she’s already staring at him with her arms crossed.
“I think you just might be the world's worst liar,” Lena leans forward conspiratorially. Her voice drops when she asks, “So when are you gonna ask her on a date instead of moping around?”
Jack freezes again, “What are you talking about?”
“Seriously?” She lets out a disbelieving laugh at his bad attempt at faking innocence. “You’re worse than a kid with their first crush, it’s a miracle she hasn’t noticed yet.”
Okay so maybe she had a point, Jack could admit that much. He remembers the first time he’d seen you here clearly. He’d felt some kind of pull towards you the moment you entered the PTMC just over a year ago. It’d been easy to ignore then, though. You’d just graduated and had been doing an emergency medicine residency program under Dana during the day shift and it was only every now and then he’d be there at the same time too. Yet every time he did happen to work with you, even for a fleeting moment, it was like the entire place shifted a little bit.
Dana had even stopped him one time, so casually that he hadn’t even questioned why she was calling him. “You better watch yourself, Abbot. That’s my girl, best one to come through here in ages. Last thing she needs is you distracting her.”
He’d scoffed at the statement at the time, claiming that it wasn’t like that. It had been exactly like that, though. He knew that now. You’d been easy to avoid when you were on day shift but now you were here all the time and he couldn’t imagine not finding every reason he could to stick to your side.
“She’s not one of yours, you know. She’s one of mine,” Lena’s voice brings him out of it. There’s an I told you so look on her face that he rolls his eyes at. “I’m just saying, the paperwork will be a lot easier to fill out.”
“Aren’t you a romantic,” He knows he can trust Lena, though. If it was really a bad idea she’d tell him so with zero hesitation. So finally, hesitantly, he says, “I’ll think about it.”
***
Jack barely needed time to think about it. He had made his choice quickly and it was eating him up inside. It was just past 7 AM and he could hear the day shift and night shift looking for you both. His time with you was running out and fast. It was just the two of you alone in the room, your patient had just miraculously gotten a bed upstairs and you’d been there to ensure a smooth transition. Maybe that was his sign that you’d say yes.
He stops you before you can pull the curtain open to let them know the room was now open. He reaches for your hand, grabs your waist, and spins you around to look at him in a single swift move. “When can I see you again?”
The question doesn’t phase you.
“In about twelve hours.” You answer him with a teasing smile, choosing to stay just a little bit too close to him instead of stepping back.
“You know what I mean, honey.”
And then you look at him in a way that’s new. Your smile turns less teasing and falls a bit. It makes you look a little more vulnerable. He watches your eyes flicker across his face and he knows you’re trying to see what he’s really made of. If he really means it. He wants to shout the truth to you in that moment. That he can’t get enough of you.
“Say it,” Your voice comes out soft and he wonders briefly if you can read his mind. You step a little bit closer to him. “Tell me what you really want from me.”
Jack is painfully aware of the voices and footsteps coming closer. They’ll walk in any moment now, he knows it. He glances towards the door and when he looks back he can see you about to step away, thinking he wasn’t going to tell you the truth. He blurts it out before you can.
“Everything.” He says it so easily that it makes your breath hitch a little bit, he can see it happen. “I want to take you on a real date again and then take you home with me because you will not believe how hard it is to sleep without you next to me. When I wake up I want to just lay there looking at you for a little bit wondering how the hell you agreed to all of that. And then I want to do that over and over again until you get sick of me.”
You don’t say anything after his confession. A few seconds pass where you just let the words sink in and then, “Only if your plan includes taking me to that cute little cafe down the street too.”
“Whenever you want.” Jack’s never agreed to anything so fast in his life.
“Right answer,” You finally will yourself to step away and swing the curtain open. Before you walk away you look at him again and the teasing smile is back. “I’ll meet you outside in a bit?”
He walks towards you again and he’s really pushing it when he stands so close you can feel the heat of him. “Odds we can sneak out of here before they can stop us?”
“Abbot!” Dana's voice.
You laugh at the way he groans as his head falls onto your shoulder briefly. “Not likely.”
3. The Kiss
It’d only taken a month for everything the night shift knew about Jack to change. It had also been a month since you’d joined them. The two things had to be related. They just couldn’t prove it yet.
“Hey,” Ellis whispered as she practically ran to where Shen and Lena were deep in a conversation. There was an uneasy look in her eyes as she looked around, as if she was expecting someone to overhear what she was about to say. “Is he being weird?”
They look towards where she had subtly nodded and found Jack. He was in an exam room laughing with a patient as he finished stitching him up. Laughing.
Night shift chief attending Dr. Jack Abbot was in a good mood. For the first time maybe ever, as far as they knew. At least publicly in a good mood. He was never like this at work, always opting for serious and stoic with his patients because he needed to be at a job like this.
But this was his third patient in a row now that he made easy conversation with. It was a lot more than pleasantries and small talk, it was real conversations. Questions about themselves and their lives and jokes traded back and forth. It was unsettling, frankly.
“Thank you! I told you something was up with him,” Shen slams a hand down on the counter before looking at Lena and leaning forward the same way Ellis was, mocking concern. “ Have we tested him for any substance use lately?”
“Alright drama queens,” Lena rolls her eyes at them and leans back in her chair. “Why can’t he just be having a good night?”
Ellis shakes her head at that, nose scrunching as she disagrees, “No, I think he might actually be physically incapable of that.”
“Well what do you think it is then?”
“I think he got laid,” She says it confidently and with zero hesitation at all. Shen chokes on his drink and Lena’s eyes go wide as saucers. “What? He’s all glowy and shit, there is literally no other explanation?”
“Explanation for what?” Your voice comes out of nowhere and Ellis and Shen nearly jump out of their skin.
“For,” Ellis recovers faster and quickly glances at Lena and Shen, neither of which provide any help. “For why Shen’s guy in south 18 is really concussed.”
“Oh he’s having an affair with his neighbor for sure,” You set your tablet down and swipe your badge along the card reader at one of the computers. “This guy shows up with his pants backwards, shirt inside out, and his left shoe missing and he expects us to believe he just tripped while on a late night walk?”
It’s at that moment that Shen notices it. There’s no iced coffee in your usual place. It’s always right there, tucked in the corner of the desk Lena sits behind. You always reach for it every time you’re nearby, it’s how you make your way through it faster than almost anyone else. He watches carefully as you reach in that exact direction subconsciously before pulling your hand back. Empty.
“Where’s your drink?” He blurts the question out suddenly and you glance up at him.
“What?”
“Your drink,” He glances at Ellis and Lena and they can see the real question in his eyes. “You always leave it right there. It’s barely nine, there’s no way you’ve had enough downtime to finish it already.”
“Oh,” You go back to the computer screen and shrug. “I just woke up late, didn’t have time to stop.”
“Right,” Shen’s eyes narrow at you but he doesn’t say anything else. That’s when he notices Jack leave his patient's room and walk in the direction of the break room. “Hey, my second one is in the fridge if you want it?”
You sit up instantly and immediately a little bit of life fills you again. So maybe you both had a little bit of an addiction. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” And that’s all he has to say before you’re making a beeline to the break room, steps faltering just the slightest bit when you see Jack disappear through the door. Then you glance back at them, smile, and disappear in the same direction.
“No,” Shen shakes his head immediately. “It's a coincidence. There’s no way.”
“And what makes you so sure?” Lena, admittedly, is invested now.
“Uh, because Sweets is my best friend in the whole wide world and would have told me obviously,” He rolls his eyes like it's obvious. “Plus there’s no way Abbot would admit how deep he is in his feelings already. He’s due for at least another couple weeks of yearning from afar.”
“I don’t know, he might’ve,” Lena shrugs as she recalls all the little things she’s witnessed the last few weeks. “This is intense, even for him.”
“Besides, look who we’re talking about,” Ellis points out the fact that they all know is right. You were sunshine personified. The piece they didn’t even realise the night shift was missing. And it was just like Jack Abbot to want you all to himself. “He’d be crazy if he didn’t.”
“Wait,” Lena pieces it together first. The missing coffee. The good moods. The hesitation before your smile, the one that was just a little bit different than usual. Softer. “Didn’t they walk in together today?”
There’s a moment of silence as they all realize the same thing at the same time.
“First one to find out pays for the others drinks for the next two weeks?”
“Deal.”
“You’re on.”
***
“You’re insane.”
Jack only grins at you as he locks the door of the supply closet behind him. He wastes no time at all and immediately wraps you up in his arms, skipping all formalities and letting his mouth fall to your neck. “I thought that’s why you liked me”
He knows now how easy you are to distract. One glance at you and how your eyes have fluttered shut already confirms that. You let out a content little sigh as you pull him closer to you, “Among other reasons.”
The noise that fills the pitt disappears and suddenly all you know is Jack. His hands wandering underneath your shirt. His mouth on every bit of skin he can reach. The way he cages you in between his body and the shelf behind you and holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
“Jack seriously,” It takes every bit of your self control to pull yourself back and attempt to look at him for real. “We can’t do this here.”
“We're alone, honey. No one has to know,” He doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on your lips instead. He slips your scrub top over your head leaving you in just the thin, see-through, white undershirt. You're both quickly losing all sense of rationality.
“Someone’s gonna come looking for us”
“I'm their boss, I'll make them go away,” One of his hands tangles in your hair this time and he pulls your head back so he can look into your eyes. Blown out pupils, breaths falling heavy, lips swollen from how you’d been biting them in an effort to keep quiet. He groans a little bit at the sight. “Just this once, baby, I swear,” He kisses you. Really kisses you. Long and slow and deep. Enough to make your thoughts go blurry and your knees weak. He pulls away the slightest bit and smirks when you chase the feeling of him. “Promise.”
“You know, somehow I don’t believe you.” He laughs then, pretending he doesn’t notice you start to push his own shirt up little by little. Your hands are cold on the warm, bare skin of his chest and he shivers a little bit, smiling even wider. He's addicted to you, he thinks.
“Can you blame me?” Another kiss, this time picking up where he left off before. “You’re perfect.”
Someone pulls on the door seconds later, just as his hands start wandering lower.
“Why is this door locked!”
You slip your scrub shirt back on in record time and Jack pushes you behind him when he goes to open the door as Ellis starts pounding on it. “I swear to god I -”
She doesn’t see you when he opens it. Not at first.
“Can I help you?” Jack asks the question like nothing is wrong in the slightest.
Ellis looks around for a second, trying to determine if anyone else was seeing this or if she had finally entered a state of hallucination. “I just need -”
That’s when she sees you. Tucked behind Jack, clothes a little crooked on your body and a little more disheveled than before. You’re smiling at her, only the slightest bit shy but mostly looking a little pleased. “I - hi?”
She doesn’t know what else to say to you.
“Hi,” You smile at her and step around Jack. “What did you need to grab?”
“I just - I just need a suture kit.”
You grab one off the shelf next to you and step around Jack, stopping for just a second to shoot him a smile. She watches him return the smile, absolutely noticing the way he reaches for you. His fingers barely skim against you when you step just a little too close to him, like even that feather light touch will get him through the rest of the night. You turn back towards her like nothing happened. “Do you want any help?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Ellis tries not to stare when Jack grabs your hand for real, pulling you back and kissing you again, modestly this time. On your forehead as he whispers something to you that she can’t hear.
It’s not until you’ve walked further away from the storage closet that she leans a little closer to you. “Hey, are you two…you know?”
You laugh a little bit at the question. “Dating? I thought it was kinda obvious after that.”
“I didn’t want to assume.” Ellis laughs along with you and shakes her head, leading you in the direction of one of the rooms. Then she notices Shen and Lena out of the corner of her eye again and stops. “Hey, can you get started? I need to check with Lena about some lab results real quick.”
“Yeah, go for it! Take your time.”
Ellis watches you pull the curtain of the room closed. Then she waits until Jack has disappeared into another room on the other side of the ED, the most smug looking grin on his face, before she practically runs to the nurses desk. “They’re dating, I told you so.”
“What?”
“And we’re just supposed to believe you? How do you know?”
“I asked,” She pauses for a moment before leaning closer. “And I found them both in the supply closet with the door locked, you connect the dots.”
Shen’s face scrunches in disgust. “Ew.”
Lena on the other hand only lets out a sigh. “We’re gonna have to keep an eye on them aren't we?”
“Probably.” Ellis looks incredibly pleased as she starts walking back to the room you’d gone into. “I’ll send you guys my drink order before next shift.”
4. The Reveal
The day shift doesn’t usually notice when the night shift starts to trickle in. You remember it clearly, the way it feels like every single person with every single ailment known to mankind seems to congregate in the pitt all at once right before it’s time for shift change. That’s something you don’t miss. By the time you guys come in it feels settled. Or maybe you all just like to think so.
Either way, they definitely don’t notice when you and Jack walk in together, your bag slung over his shoulder. They’re too distracted by the drinks Shen and Lena walked in with, relegated to delivery service after losing some bet to Ellis.
All the noise is forgotten quickly. This, the rare quiet moment in the staff locker room where it feels like the whole world comes to a stand still, is Jack’s time to breathe. He watches you throw all your things into his locker, somehow getting to the point of sharing custody of one now in the last couple of weeks.
He knows you’re saying something. He can hear the sound of your voice but you’re also tying your hair up so it’s out of your way for the night and he loses all ability to think straight. Some kind of pavlovian response overtakes him and this feeling fills him up inside and suddenly he can’t help himself.
He stands up and it's like his hands move on their own without him meaning for them to. They set themselves firmly on your hips and pull them back, completely flush against him. He bunches the scrub top up and settles his hands underneath the long sleeve shirt you’re wearing under it. Your skin is warm under them and the little noise he lets out is perfectly content.
“Can I help you?” He can hear the smile you’re wearing when you ask the question and he can picture it perfectly.
“No,” Jack shakes his head a little and kisses your cheek. It lingers for a second before he starts moving down the expanse of your neck. “I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“You're so needy, you know that?”
“Are you complaining?” He doesn’t get a response from you. Instead your arms settle over his and you relax into his hold. He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”
You don’t get very long to escape into the moment.
“There you are. Robby’s looking for - woah,” The exhausted look on Santos' face turns into a shit-eating grin in a fraction of a second. “What’s going on here?”
Jack frowns when you wiggle out of his hold to turn to look at her.
“Hey,” You smile at her like she hadn’t just seen what she clearly just did. She shares a look with both Javadi and Whitaker who’d walked in with her. “How was your shift?”
“Uh, I'm sorry,” Javadi laughs in disbelief a little as she looks between the two of you. You, smiling brightly at her in the way she misses seeing so much on the day shift, and Jack, who looks like he’s never hated three people more. She’s pretty sure he’s committing their murders in his head. “What is this? When did this happen?”
Jack all of a sudden feels protective in that moment. Over your relationship that very much fuels his will to live and over you. Part of him is surprised you hadn’t told them yet. The first friends you’d made here, probably some of your closest, clearly had no idea about you and him. Then he remembers your opposite schedules and the constant cycle of work and being completely enveloped by the so-called honeymoon phase of your relationship he thinks might actually never end.
“Wait, did I not tell you guys?” You’re trying your hardest to trace back every moment of the last few weeks. Jack takes it upon himself to hand you your drink and grab his before shutting his locker, taking a second to just listen. One of his arms wraps around your waist again.
“You did not, sweets,” Santos shakes her head and speaks slowly, trying to push through her absolute shock at this revelation. And trying very hard not to stare at the casual display of affection from Jack Abbot of all people.
Whitaker is the one who recalls the last real interaction you’d had with them fastest. Somehow he’s the least surprised. “You spent all of breakfast the other day telling us about that kid you patched up with Ellis. The one who slipped off the fire escape trying to sneak into his girlfriend's room."
“You told Mel, Samira, and Langdon," Jack says it in between sips of his matcha like it’s nothing. “When you had them over for dinner at yours your last night off. You sent me a picture of their reactions.”
“Right!” You try your hardest to hold in a laugh at the recollection. Samira had shouted into a pillow. Mel had asked a lot of questions, incredibly excitedly. Frank had decided he needed to take a walk to process and stood on your balcony for ten minutes. “I guess I forgot, everything kinda blurs together. They didn’t tell you?”
“Sweets, I think you told the three least nosy people in the ED,” Santos makes a mental note to yell at all of them for keeping this from everyone else. “Of course they didn’t.”
Then your attention slips from Jack completely when Javadi prompts Whitaker to tell you about something that happened earlier. He stops listening completely, now perfectly distracted by the excited look in your eyes and the way you smile at them. And okay so maybe he’s a little bit clingy.
Jack wraps himself around you from behind again, arms now fully circling your waist. He does not hesitate in the slightest to pull you flush against him again either. He does exercise a little bit of self control though. There’s no kiss this time. Instead he let out a soft sigh and let his head fall onto your shoulder, chin resting against it silently as you talk.
He doesn’t notice the way Javadi covers her mouth with one hand to hold back the comment she wants to make out loud. Instead she points at the sight as subtly as she can and mouths “oh my god!” you only grin at her. You roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed at Jack’s display, but you settle back into him anyway.
He also doesn’t notice the way Whitaker stares at him, eyes narrowed in his direction and head tipped to the side curiously, debating to himself whether or not Jack was actually in the room with them. Physically or mentally.
Santos, ever curious, is the one who finally cracks and breaks him out of his self induced trance. “Okay, I have to know. How did this even -”
“Hey!” Ellis cuts in before she can even ask the question all the way. She pops her head in the door, eyes skipping past everyone until they land on you and Jack. She doesn’t look phased by the sight in the slightest. She nods at you with a smile in greeting before looking at Jack. “If you don’t get out there in the next five seconds for hand-offs, Robby might just track down a guillotine and use it on you.”
“Alright, alright,” Jack rolls his eyes and takes his time standing up straight again. He lingers for as long as humanly possible. Another kiss, to your forehead this time, before he very begrudgingly lets you go one arm at a time. “I’ll see you out there.”
Jack keeps holding your hand as he walks out of the room, not letting a single second go to waste. He holds on until he takes a step too far and lets it fall out of his own. An absolutely devastating moment in his eyes.
“Later, kids.” He just barely glances at Whitaker, Javadi, and Santos, saluting them with two fingers before taking another sip of his drink and walking out of the locker room with Ellis, who hands him a tablet.
The silence sinks in around you. In those few moments your friends realize that Abbot’s whole little display is evidently very much normal for the night shift. And then -
“Since when does Abbot drink matcha?”
5. The Declaration
It was bordering on 2 AM when the trauma came in. A young girl, who’d just wanted some pancakes and coffee while pulling an all nighter studying for her upcoming SAT exam. She’d been hit by a drunk driver on her way home from the diner and was in rough shape.
The room was already tense. She’d coded in the ambulance and they’d only just managed to get her stable. Every single one of you held your breath as you all did everything in your power to try to save her.
It was really with no hesitation that everyone else took a backseat to you and Jack moving easily around each other. The two of you were the girls best bet at surviving, a well oiled machine at this point. In every sense of the phrase. You could anticipate what he was about to do before he even said it. All he’d have to do is give you a look and you just knew, you’d hand him whatever he needed, or ask someone else if your hands were full, and you were right every single time.
“Honestly I think the rest of us can go home,” Walsh, who’d been paged to consult and make sure the girl was stable enough for surgery, said from where she stood on the other side of the hospital bed from you and Jack. She was watching closely and honestly, was more than a little impressed. Especially when you pointed something out to Jack that he’d missed right before she could. “Our sweet little angel face over there has this whole place locked down.”
“Including Abbot,” Shen watches from beside Walsh, looking on curiously at the silent understanding between the two of you. “It’s like they have some freaky mind meld thing going on.”
“You think its contagious?” Walsh puts up her side of the bed railing, seeing that Jack was just about done.
“Hopefully not,” Shen makes a face at the thought. “I'm more than happy letting her be the one to keep him too busy to yell at the rest of us.”
Neither one of you notice their conversation in the slightest, too involved in each other even in a trauma room. It’s almost unsettling. The small little smiles and the bedroom eyes and whispered comments passed between the two of you. The way Jack pauses for just the briefest moment mid procedure to turn and send you a wink that makes you roll your eyes and grin back at him.
Walsh watches the whole interaction, positive the two of you have forgotten everyone else is the room. “This can't possibly be normal. Are they like this their whole shifts?”
Shen thinks for a moment before shaking his head, “It’s usually worse. Boarding on an HR violation is their normal.”
A moment passes where Walsh realizes that yeah, that kinda tracks considering the moments she’s been witness to up until this point. Then, to Shen’s horror, she smiles. “Hey, do you wanna see something funny?”
His eyes narrow at her but ultimately his curiosity gets the better of him. “I’m not taking responsibility for your funeral expenses if this goes badly.”
That only makes her smile wider.
Walsh maneuvers her way to your other side, taking the place of one of the other nurses that was there. Shen’s eyes go wide when she looks at him again. She speaks before he can shake his head to stop her, breaking you and Jack out of the little bubble you’d put yourselves in.
“You know you’re really good at this, Sweets,” Walsh grins when you look over at her instead and Jack hesitates for just a second. “When can I steal you to help me in the OR? You’d be amazing in there.”
“Anytime,” You meet her smile easily. “I’m always down for a change in scenery.”
“Perfect,” She smirks a little at your answer. “Name a day and time and I'll steal you all for myself.”
“Done,” The other side of the railing snaps up, maybe a little more harsh than it needs to be. Jack looks up, not a hint of the smile he’d been using with you left when he looks at Walsh. “You can go now.”
Walsh looks more than pleased by his reaction. She looks at Shen who’s trying his absolute hardest not to laugh giddily at what he just witnessed.
“Down, boy,” She unlocks the wheels of the hospital bed and smirks even wider when Jack removes his gloves and loops his fingers into the hem of your scrub top, pulling you back into his side. It’s completely subconscious, she realizes, when neither one of you seems to even notice it happens. “Even when I steal her from you for my OR you’ll still get to take her home at the end of the night.”
“Wait, hang on, that’s where I draw the line,” Shen unlocks the wheels on the other side and starts wheeling the bed out with her. “You are not taking our best nurse all for yourself. Especially not when she’s the one who also brings us our caffeine every shift.”
“You know, you’re only giving me more reasons to steal her.”
Neither one of them notices that you don’t follow. Instead, the room empties out and then it’s just you and Jack. The silence settles between you as Jack unties the back of your surgical gown. When you turn to face him again he speaks softly.
“You could go, you know. To the OR. If you wanted to.” Jack says it before you can say anything about it. “Walsh is right, you’d be a natural up there.”
“Jack -”
“You don’t have to stay here forever. I mean, Shen is also right. We’d miss you down here. It hasn’t even been a couple months yet and it feels like you were made to be here with m- with everyone -”
“Jack -”
“Even if you just wanted to try it out. I think you should. I mean it’s-”
You kiss him. Not in the storage closet or the locker room or in an on call room or behind a curtain like usual. Right there in the middle of a trauma room, windows wide open and the ED buzzing all around you.
Jack melts into you immediately. Hands moving to your hips to pull you closer before one moves to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. A small groan leaves him when you pull away, the sweetest, most innocent smile on your lips.
“You talk too much,” A moment passes where you just stare at him, making sure he’s really listening to what you’re saying. “I’m not leaving the ED,” and then you add a little quieter, a little more shy, “You’re here.”
“I love you.”
Jack doesn’t know what possesses him to say it out loud here and now of all places for the very first time. But he feels it and he acknowledges it and there’s no way he can hold it in after that. There’s a need that settles deep in his bones and he knows he’s never going to want anything less than you right there with him always. Forever. He doesn’t know how he’d survive otherwise.
It takes a moment for what he said to sink in. You can see the intensity in his eyes, how much he feels it and means it. You really wish you were anywhere but the ED right now. Maybe if you wished really really hard you could somehow will everyone and everything to slow down long enough for you to sneak away with Jack for just a little bit.
Jack Abbot who loves you. The knowledge of that fact makes you feel warm all over.
“I love you too.”
+1. The Move
Jack is obsessed. He knows that for sure now.
With the way you kiss him and how you look at him after. With the way you let him be as attached to you as he needs to be at any given moment and you don’t mind at all. With the way you hold his hand and pretend not to notice when he moves his fingers to rest on your pulse point out of instinct. And especially with moments like these.
It’s pushing ten am and the two of you have only just left the hospital. A morning rush hour pileup meant that not only was there an influx of trauma’s coming in right before 7 but also that a good chunk of the staff were stuck behind the backed up traffic.
Despite the fifteen hour shift, you’re still happily nodding your head along to the soft music that fills Jack’s car. He watches you out of the corner of his eye. You’re mumbling the words to the song playing and taking sips out of the drink he’d just bought you, your third one of the day. His drink is sitting the cup holder. His second one, your habits had rubbed off on him.
The song switches once and then twice. By the time it switches a third time he’s watching you frown as you reach the bottom of your drink.
“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way,” He looks at you for a moment before looking back at the road. “But I think you might have a problem.”
“I do not!” You feign offense and turn towards him in your seat. “God forbid I treat myself to something nice after a long day.”
“What were the other two for then?”
“A treat for going to work and a pick me up for halfway, clearly.”
“Clearly.” Jack shakes his head as stops at a light. Silently, he drops one hand from the wheel and sets it palm side up on the center console. Almost immediately you’re placing your hand in his, the exact way he was craving.
The light turns green and he makes the split second decision then. He turns right, the direction that’ll let him turn around to head towards his place, instead of continuing straight, the direction that would take him to yours.
You watch as he does so, driving further and further away from your apartment. “Jack, what are you doing?”
He kisses the back of your hand. “Taking you back to mine since you’re clearly not planning on sleeping after all that caffeine.”
“Okay, one,” You turn to face him again, even while he’s driving. “I’ve built up a tolerance. This is nothing. And two, I've been out of clean clothes for like a week. I can only wash the ones I have there so many times.”
“So steal some of mine.” Jack shrugs and maybe the thought of you in his clothes is a little bit for him too.
“Bad idea, cause then neither of us will ever have clean clothes again.”
“I’ll buy you new ones then.”
“Not if I don’t let you.”
“Good luck stopping me.”
He’s winning and you both know it. So instead you say, “I have to stay at my place sometimes, what’s the point of even having it if I give in and always let you win these fun little arguments.”
The stop is sudden. Jack pulls over into the first empty spot he sees on the side of the road and turns to face you fully before you can ask him what he’s doing.
“You know what, honey? You’re right,” He leans towards you, fully leaning on the center console until he’s close enough to kiss you if he really wanted to. “There’s really no point in you paying for an apartment you’re barely ever in so I think it’s the perfect time for you to let me move you in with me.”
For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. Maybe he was right and the cocktail of caffeine and sleep deprivation was finally making you imagine things. “What?”
“Move in with me.”
So you definitely heard him right.
“You’re not serious.”
“What makes you think I’m not?”
“It’s barely been three months,” You shake your head as if that should explain everything. “And we haven’t even technically been dating for that entire time.”
“What can I say, I know what I want,” You’re still looking at him in disbelief so Jack takes your hand again and he sounds more serious when he says it plainly. “What I want is you. Every morning, every night, every shift, every minute you’ll let me. If you’ll have me.”
“It’s too fast.” You’re only trying to convince yourself at this point.
Jack smiles at you, softer than before. “You’re forgetting I’ve been pining over you for more than a year now.”
You catch the implication immediately. It went way further back than just three months. All the way back to the day you walked through the doors of the PTMC halfway through him going through shift change. He’d lingered a lot longer than necessary and you had thought it was just normal for him.
“You’re crazy.”
“That’s why you love me.”
And he’s right. It’s the reason why you finally give in. “Will you at least let me split the rent with you?”
“I own the place.” Jack shrugs and you know for a fact that he’s not sorry in the slightest.
“Mortgage then.”
“Already paid off.”
“Bills?”
“Paid in advance for the next three months.”
“Groceries?”
“Not a chance.”
“50 50?”
“90 10.”
You huff a little and pout at him. He doesn’t fall for it, only pausing for a second to kiss the look off your face. “Are you ever going to let me win one of these arguments?”
“Not unless it’s in your best interest.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you love me for that too.”
Jack finally thinks for a moment and that’s when his eyes land on the drinks in the cupholder between the two of you, his half full one and your empty one. “How about I let you pay for my drink every time we stop for one?”
You light up at his proposition. “Will you let me pay for mine?”
“Only after the first one. First one I’m paying for,” He leans in a little bit closer, knowing he’s got you on his side now. “Consider it a compromise.”
“Works for me.”
“You can pay for Shen’s too,” He adds quickly before you can agree. “I refuse to fund his addiction, he’s worse than you.”
“Deal.” That makes you laugh and you finally lean in and kiss him, sealing everything in place.
He can taste the sugary vanilla drink that still lingers on your tongue and it makes him smile against your lips. “Will you let me take you to our home now?”
“Okay,” You kiss him again. You really can’t help it. “Take me to our place.”
summary: one dad's forgotten lunch is one woman's golden opportunity to find the romance of a life time. who knew the pitt was the perfect matchmaker
tags: smau, trinity santos x fem!reader x dennis whitaker, dennis and trinity are NOT ROMANTICALLY TOGETHER, they just share an apartment and girlfriend 😋, robby is his own warning, reader is in her early 20s
notes: if this doesn't do too well, I won't continue it, but I at least wanted to get this out there! (and yes, the chapter titles are all vine references)
1. You Are My Dad; You're My Dad! Boogie Woogie Woogie
2. Hi, Welcome to Chilis
3. Look at All Those Chickens
4. Two Bros, Chillin in a Hot Tub, Five Feet Apart Cause They're Not Gay!
pairings: jack abbot x roommate!reader, baran al-hashimi x roommate!trinity santos, michael ‘robby’ robinavitch x roommate!dennis whittaker
summary: you sneak Jack into your shared apartment space but little do you know, so has Trinity with Al-Hashimi and Dennis with Robby.
contains: crack LOL, implied smut but nothing explicit, fluff, age gaps with all pairings, cliff hanger? rushed ending?
notes: hey this is insane sorry i came up with this while high and on a walk eating ice cream lmao big day for anyone who ships trinity x al hashimi and dennis x robby i guess? this is also kinda giving that one spider-man meme where they’re all like pointing at each other HAHAHAHA
Jack feels like a teenager again whenever he sneaks into your apartment. you usually spend the weekends at his place but this weekend you insisted he stayed over at yours so you could try a nearby breakfast cafe in the morning.
you’ve been living with Trinity since your med school days and recently Dennis has moved into the third bedroom space that was previously used as a giant storage closet. you liked living with them and despite working the night shift, you were still able to make time for each other.
though, the apartment has felt a bit off lately. you’ve noticed movie nights have been getting cancelled, Trinity and Dennis stay in their respective rooms more often, and sometimes you hear different voices that don’t belong to your roommates right as you’re about the fall asleep from a long shift. you’ve convinced yourself that the sleep deprivation is driving you insane and those voices were just in your head, maybe they were just remnants of patients in the ER.
you come out of your bedroom to see Trinity making dinner in the kitchen. she’s got a three course meal laid out on the counter.
“Woah, who’s the Michelin star dinner for?” you ask, peering over her shoulder as she stirs sauce around.
“I’m trying something new! Meal prepping, you heard of it?” she bites back. Trinity comes off a bit more defensive than usual. you back away in defeat, she’s probably stressed out over Garcia texting her suddenly, or maybe Dennis pushed her buttons again.
“Kay, well I’ll see you in a bit.” she turns to look at you and sees that you’re a little more dressed up than usual. your hair is blown out to perfection and your cheeks are extra pink from your blush.
“Hot date tonight or something?” Trinity smirks at you.
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” you reply with a similar smirking expression. “I bet Huckleberry’s out on a date with Amy right now.” you change the subject quick to avoid her pressing further.
“He hasn’t been home in days and y’know he’s been kinda avoiding me whenever I see him at work! Like he’s practically running away from me.” she says, turning the stove off.
“And what about you? Still hung up on Garcia? I sure hope all this is actually meal prep and not you trying to win her back over.” you say gesturing to food she’s got out on the countertop.
Trinity rolls her eyes and you take that as your cue to leave.
Doctor Al-Hashimi is the first of the three attendings to enter the shared apartment space that night. her and Trinity eat dinner together alone in the empty apartment before continuing behind Trinity’s closed door. Dennis comes home later that night with Doctor Robby. he sees multiple sets of plates by the sink but thinks nothing of it. you probably just ate dinner with Trinity before leaving, he assumes. Robby already knows his way around and heads straight to Dennis’ room.
a few hours later, you and Jack stumble into the apartment giggling. you had spent a few hours out together at a new fancy cocktail bar you saw on tiktok, then at a dive bar Jack suggested since he wanted to end the night with something “old and classic”
“I hope I get to end the night with someone old and classic.” you remember saying as you winked at him. he knows you’re just joking around but he takes your suggestion seriously.
by the end of the night, you’re stumbling around trying to get to his car, giggling as you hold onto his arm for balance. Jack is practically sober and just happy to see you let loose after a long week. he takes pride in taking care of you and didn’t mind that you were a little tipsy.
you slip your kitten heels off before Jack has you against the front door kissing you deeply. you moan into his mouth and wrap your arms around his shoulders. you try to pull away from him for a second,
“Jack, my room, we can’t out here-” he cuts you off with another kiss before slowly kissing down your neck,
“I know pretty, give me a second.” he pulls away and grabs your hand, pulling you towards your bedroom to finish what he’s started.
𝜗ৎ
Jack is wide awake, staring at the walls of your bedroom. you’re passed out curled up against him, snoring softly. he smiles with pride at the sight. if he wasn’t such a night owl, he’s sure he’d be the exact same, especially after the several rounds you put him through. Jack has seen your bedroom a dozen times now. you’ve got a small vanity in the corner, with an overflowing dresser beside it. for a doctor who spends most her week in scrubs, you sure have a lot of clothes, he thinks to himself. there’s film and music posters all over your walls and a small collection of photobooth strips in a wall corner. Jack makes a mental note to make sure you put up the newest addition to the corner of the wall.
he slowly pulls himself away from you and sits up to put his prosthetic back on. he looks down at you and sees you shuffle around before laying on your other side. as he exits your room, he makes sure to shut the door as softly as possible before turning around to see Doctor Al-Hashimi with the same idea. she’s completely frozen with a glass of water in hand as she stares back at the other attending,
“I was just grabbing some water.” she starts as she breaks the silence.
“Me too,” Jack replies awkwardly. he walks towards the cabinet to grab a glass and fills it with water. Baran hasn’t moved and doesn't know if she should go back to Trinity’s room or if she should explain herself. “So you and uh- Whittaker?” Jack questions.
“God, no!” Baran whispers in shock. she almost looks offended at the accusation. Jack raises an eyebrow as the response. The door knob to Dennis’ door starts to jiggle, causing Baran and Jack to look over. The tallest of the three attendings emerge from Dennis’ room.
Robby’s eyes are wide at the sight. two of his attendings (one of which is his best friend) are standing in the kitchen of his secret partner’s apartment. Robby awkwardly shuts the door,
“So, do you wanna start first or should I?” Jack starts in disbelief
“I was gonna tell you-“ Robby replies. Jack is quick to cut him off.
“Well, why don’t you tell me all about it over breakfast? We can cook it in the kitchen of our resident’s apartment!” Jack whisper yells back.
“Oh, as if you’re any better. Y’know I thought Ellis was joking when she said you were giving her special treatment but now I’m seeing it’s a lot more than just special!” Robby says gesturing to your bedroom door. Right as Jack is about to reply, Baran lets out a harsh Shh!
The apartment is quiet again. No one moves.
“I suggest that we all go back to bed and we figure this out tomorrow,” Baran says calmly. Robby and Jack stare at each other, still in disbelief. “Or at least I will.” Baran is the first of the three to retreat back into her girlfriend’s room. Jack and Robby stay, both still confused.
“So, how long?” Robby asks, breaking the awkward silence.
“Six months, you?”
“Nine.”
“Hm,” Jack acknowledges as he puts the glass in the sink. neither of them push on any further questions for the time being.
“Well, good luck tomorrow morning.” Jack slowly opens the door to your bedroom. Robby lets out a chuckle.
𝜗ৎ
the morning sun shines through your sheer curtains waking you up. you slowly open your eyes to a small hangover headache and empty bed. Jack liked to wait for you to wake up so the empty bed made you panic slightly. you grab your phone to check if Jack had left you any messages. usually, he’d leave you a goodbye text or let you know he stepped out if he needed to, but there was nothing. however there were dozens of messages from Trinity and Dennis all along the same premise.
wake the fuck up
why is abbot in our living room
how long has this been going on
explain now
you get up in a rush to explain. you knew you were going to have to tell them eventually, you just didn’t think that they would find out because your boyfriend decided to get up early and watch tv. you open your bedroom door to see Trinity and Dennis eating breakfast at the dining table, eyes wide as they stare at you.
“Morning!” a deeper voice says. you whip your head towards the kitchen to see Doctor Robby, Doctor Al-Hashimi, and of course your boyfriend Doctor Jack Abbot all looking at you with big smiles.
“So which couple wants to start explaining first?” Jack says with a big smirk on his face. couple? you look back at the dining table to find Trinity and Dennis staring at their apparent partners.
synopsisyou and Robby had been going steady for a few months now but when a betting board is made on who your mysterious male friend could be, Robby is not happy with the outcome.
warningslanguage, smutish- allusions to smut, jealous Robby, mention of shooting- GSW
author noterobby x reader but platonic frank x reader, can you tell santos is my favourite cause i include her in basically everything i write
Santos had had a day.
More traumas than she could deal with and a young girl who came in with bruises that suspiciously looked like abuse. She’d had just about enough when she realised she’d have to give another two hours to the place to get her charting done.
When she came home she knew Whitaker was at Amy’s and you should have been home. She watched you practically bolt out the place. Santos hoped it’d be a night of crappy food and shitty movies.
So when she ditched her keys at the kitchen counter and listened out the last thing she expected to hear was moaning.
“What the?” she called out for you.
Maybe you were having a self-care night. Charged up a vibrator and such.
Santos chuckled to herself as she made to tiptoe past your room.
There was the unmistakable sound of another.
“Oh fuck.”
Trinity paused.
You and her were close, she could admit that. You were maybe her only friend. So she knew you had been going through a dry patch. Because you were making it everyone's problem.
She listened in.
There was deep groaning from a man and your moans, the soft thudding of a bed against the wall. Trinity thanked the heavens again that the head of your bed was against Denis's wall and not hers.
“Deeper, harder,” she heard you moan.
“Oh, fuck me,” the guy groaned deep. She didn't recognise the voice. Did she?
Curious she tried to listen to the mans voice, wondering what she could tell. He must have been busy as little else was said other than groanings.
Where had you met this guy? Had this been happening longer than she knew? Is this why you hurried out?
Santos thought you weren't one of one night stands. Were you proving her wrong?
She snook into her room and knew she had to tell someone, at least Whitaker.
Robby collapsed next to you on your bed, catching his breath as you pulled the sheets up to cover your slightly sweaty bodies. The bed creaked under his weight as he moved around, getting himself comfortable.
Your bed was a small double, not really built for anyone more than one. Let alone Robby.
“You want some water or something?” you asked.
Robby chuckled, the bed creaking again as he turned on his side to face you. “Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?”
You lifted your shoulders, tucking your hands under your head to admire him. “Well you're the senior citizen with the... bad back?”
His brows lifted. “Oh that's how you want to play it.”
He grabbed your hip and pulled you close.
You were still trying to recover from the multiple orgasms Robby had ripped through your body as soon as you'd stepped through your apartment door. But that didn't stop his hands from crowding around your body, pulling you into him as all his hardness turned soft.
His lips found yours as easy as one found home, kissing you the way he knew you liked to be kissed. Head tilted to reach deeper, nose moving against your cheek.
There was a sudden shriek in your apartment.
You pushed Robby off, sitting up quick in bed.
“What?” he asked, far less alarmed then you as his arm fell around your waist.
“Trinity.”
Robby hummed. “Thought you said she was at Garcia's tonight?”
“I thought she was,” you uttered as if she was in the room.
The dating with Robby had started maybe three months ago when you'd had a disastrous date at the same bar Robby frequented with his buddy Duke. He'd seen the distress you were in with your date when he wouldn't stop talking about why sports people should actually get paid more than health care workers.
From there you had drinks with Robby.
From there he asked to see you again outside of work.
From there you ended up in his bed and he in yours on the occasions you had the place to yourself, which with two room mates didn't happen often.
You'd thought tonight was one of them.
“You should go,” you said, throwing the cover back to find your clothes in the dark.
“What?” Robby laughed, without moving. Instead he got himself comfortable, throwing an arm around the back of his head and tugging the covers down to his waist.
“Yes, do you want Trinity to know?”
“She doesn't sleep in your room though does she?”
Still, you tried to find some clothes.
The word around the PTMC was that Robby was a seven week itch kind of guy, the sort to never tie himself down. So though you'd been on dates with him and though he'd brought you flowers before and held your hands in bars and took you to a fancy dinner, he still fucked you like a guy that could move on the next day.
And you didn't want to scare him away with talk of serious dating. A bit of Robby was better than none of him.
You just didn't want your friends to judge you for that.
“Hey-hey-” Robby moved over on the bed, arm darting out to wrap around your waist and tug you back in.
You couldn't even protest before he was pulling you into him, hooking one of his large legs over yours and trapping you in. Your quilt was pulled up and his head rested next to yours.
At least when you and Robby were done with the sex you never kicked each other out of bed. But you did go into work separately.
“But-”
“-I'll be out of here first thing in the morning.”
With his arms around you and his calming breath you didn't think you could push him off you if you wanted to.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Robby kissed the blade of your shoulder and for the rest of the night that was how you were and when you woke in the morning with two hours to spare before your shift started, Robby was already gone.
“So who's the lucky guy?”
You chocked on your coffee, peering next to you at Trinity. “What?”
She smirked, leaning on the locker next to yours. “Oh come on, I heard you last night.”
The bitter taste of black coffee turned to ash in your stomach. She'd heard. Or worse, she'd been up to see Robby sneak out in the morning.
“What-what do you mean?” play it cool, you could totally starve of the humiliation. Maybe you could persuade her it was a dream, a nightmare, that she was sleepwalking and actually heard/saw/knew nothing.
“I heard you last night,” she said. “Quite the dicking down from what it sounded like.”
You felt the heat in your cheeks. “Oh my god.”
“Hey, I think its good, you deserve it,” said Santos as you hid yourself in your locker, taking great care in peeling off your jacket and finding your stethoscope inside. “So is it someone I know, or...”
She didn't know. You rejoiced silently before realising she still knew there was someone. “That is none of your business.”
“Oh come on, you know Garcia!”
“Because she works here.”
“Does he work here?”
“No!” you close the locker door, not as amused as Trinity was clearly finding this situation. “Please, he's just... a guy.”
She leaned in closer for the gossip. Few things got her as excited as gossip did. “A boyfriend guy or a sleep around guy?”
Wasn't that the golden question.
“Oh my god, you don't know.”
“Santos!” the call of her name should have saved you. Not when it was Robby calling for her as he stood between the two of you. “Pelvic exam in three.”
She groaned but gave a salute. “You got it boss,” she said to him before aiming a finger at you. “This isn't over.”
Santos had turned, leaving and you hardly waited anytime to turn back to the lockers and bash your head into them. Not enough to hurt but enough to erase the terrible fact that Santos had heard you.
Robby liked hearing you moan and you liked Robby so you always moaned loud.
And she'd caught enough of it.
Usually, you wished for Robby to be a bit louder in bed. You were glad he hadn't been.
The cold metal of the locker was replaced on what might have been your twentieth go at hitting yourself with the back of a rough hand.
“Everything okay?” asked Robby, coming to stand next to you, leaning on the lockers. His eyes creased with concern.
“She knows.”
His brows shot up, which didn't indicate a good reaction. “She knows?”
“Not about you, don't worry,” you said with a light scoff. “She knows that I had a good time with a guy last night, she doesn't know who.”
Robby nodded in consideration. “So we're in the clear?”
You screwed your eyes shut. You hadn't realised just how bad you wanted him to shrug it off, tell you he didn't care if Trinity knew, that of everyone in the ward knew, that he only cared about what it meant between the two of you. You only realised when he didn't give you that option.
He wanted to be sure he wasn't affiliated with it.
“Yeah, you're in the clear.”
You left Robby at the lockers before suspicions could grow. Nothing wrong with a resident talking to their attending and so far you and Robby had done a good job at not having any suspicion- not even from Dana.
The least you could do for the guy was keep it that way.
“You had a hot date last night?” Princess slid up to your side before you were even half way across the ward.
You groaned. “Santos told you already.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Say anything about what?” Javadi's voice suddenly came from Doctor McKay's side. The older woman tried to act uninterested but her keen eyes were watching you from over the computer.
“She had a date around hers last night,” said Perhlah, coming up to your other side.
“And she won't tell us who it was,” added Princess.
Javadi's smile grew and her jaw hung open. “Who?”
You shook your head and stared at your shoes. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“Okay!” Robby's voiced boomed out. He clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention. “We have patients, how about we go ask them some riveting questions?”
Mel frowned from somewhere in the crowd that had formed. “We should go ask them if they know who the guy is?”
She realised quickly that wasn't quite what he meant.
Perlah and Princess walked off together, quietly scheming. “Men just don't get it.”
You gulped down, smoothing your hand over your head and where the growing headache was forming. “Thanks.”
Robby said nothing but there was the brief feel of his hands on your shoulders as he squeezed before moving past you.
It was going on lunch, you'd just gotten a trauma through and up to the OR when you spotted bright post-it notes stuck up on the board in Ahmed's office. The betting board, his mini kingdom had been put back together.
Three titles.
Who?
How long?
Casual or dating?
“Oh my god!” your shriek echoed around the Pitt.
“What? What is it? What?” Robby was at your side in an instant, body almost slamming into you with how quick he slid next to you. He steadied himself, holding on.
“That!”
Ahmed had set up a betting board based on your love life.
The who column was spread with names and the name of those that had bet scribbled underneath. In the middle there was how long had it been going on for, some thought it was only a few weeks, others guessed up to six months.
The last column, wondering if it was a casual thing or serious was filled with almost every post it note saying 'casual'.
“Oh,” Robby chuckled.
“It's not funny,” you argued. “Has every body here bet?”
“Not me, I had no idea. Besides I think that's kind of cheating, right?”
“I see you've found my latest and greatest,” said Ahmed, approaching behind the two of you. “We got this up and running two hours ago, you want me to break it down for you?”
“Holy shit,” you uttered, scanning the board. It was a great and easy way to find out what everyone thought about you.
Robby nodded, leaning on the door next to you. “Holy shit.”
“How much money's in the pot?” you asked.
Ahmed grinned like he was just waiting for you to ask. “Five-hundred and five dollars!”
Robby chocked on a breath next to you as your jaw hung open.
Someone was gonna make money of your guys' sex lives and none of that was going to come to you.
“And I'm guessing I can't get in on it?” you asked.
“No," said Ahmed. “Unless, you know, you wanna tell me who it is and I'll split the money between us.”
“And who do you think it is?” asked Robby. He asked casually, still leaning on the doorframe like he couldn't care less. If he was a girl in a rom-com he might have even checked on his nails or twirled his hair. But you'd studied him close the last couple months, you'd worked all his emotions out into your own little Robby dictionary.
There was a hint of jealousy.
“Well, I've gone with the fan favourite,” he said, plucking off his post it note to show you. “Frank. Three months. And serious.”
“Langdon!” Robby announced.
Uh-oh.
“Yeah, man,” he said. “More than half these notes say it's him.”
On further reading you noticed it did. On yellows and pinks and greens Frank's name was written in quick scribbles or thought out curves.
Frank? Sure the two of you were close. You'd worked close together for a year- nearly two. You worked coordinated well in traumas and with patients you always knew what the other was thinking.
Since his divorce with you'd been helping him as much as you could. You had a friend who was a good lawyer and when he had a chance to see the kids you always covered.
You knew, of course, everything that had happened with the benzos.
You knew Robby still wasn't back to being best-buds with the guy.
You didn't know everyone thought you and Frank were together!
Donnie side stepped past you, coming in with his bets. “I got it, I got it-”
Robby snatched them from his hand, scoffing at whatever was written.
“Langdon. Two weeks and serious.”
“Et-tu, Donnie?” you asked.
“I got fifty in the pool, looking to get a new tv, you know.”
Robby stormed off.
Donnie watched. “He got a bet in?”
“Not yet, sorry, you don't mind?” asked Ahamed.
You scoffed. “Do I have a choice?”
You left them to it, finding Robby sitting at the nurses station at a computer. His jaw clenched and fingers worked furiously over the keypads. You evaluated the area before leaning in. “If you put a pool in we could split the money?”
“Should I put a bet in for Langdon?” He didn't look up to you as he slid on his glasses.
It angered you because he seemed annoyed at something he knew not to be true and because he slid on the glasses that made him even hotter than he already was.
“Is there something wrong, Robby?”
“No.”
“You seem-”
“- I'm not,” he snapped.
He was.
Robby wouldn't admit how much he let his emotions rule, especially anger. He used to be terrible for it but for a while he'd been better, lighter on his feet, patient. Since about.... well, since you started seeing each other.
“Hey.” Langdon joined your side.
You noticed a vein in Robby's neck twitch. “Hey.”
“You seen what everyone's saying?” asked Frank. “Apparently we're seeing each other?”
“Yeah,” you said, turning to him. “I had no idea.”
“You think I should buy a ring next?” he teased.
Robby slammed his hands on the counter, pushing himself up and storming off without so much as a glance.
Frank watched. “What's his problem?”
What was his problem? You'd love to know. “He had a bet on someone else,” you excused.
“Oh bummer,” said Frank. “You think he lost a lot of money?”
You didn't have time to come up with another lie as you spotted Santos and Whitaker walking by. Politely, you ditched Frank, promising you'd catch him for lunch.
“Did you start a betting system on my sex life?” you asked Trinity.
She smirked. “That wasn't me, I had nothing to do with that, seriously!”
“It's true,” said Denis. “But she was the first to put down a bet on Frank.”
You looked at her. You knew the history between her and Frank. Why would she want you to sleep with him? “You hate Frank?”
She shrugged. “So I guessed you were sleeping with him and didn't want to tell me because you know I don't like him.”
You shook your head. “I didn't want to tell you because it's none of your business.” You considered Whitaker. “Who'd you bet for?”
“I-I didn't, I-I wouldn't-”
“He bet on Nick from radiology.”
All of this from Robby sleeping with you in your apartment. Next time- if there was even gong to be a next time- you were doing it at his.
By the end of your shift anyone that hadn't placed a bet had.
Franks name had doubled and the pot was up to one thousand dollars (the highest bet in Pitt history). Frank found it funny, cracking jokes about it all day, throwing arms around you and dragging you onto cases saying 'couples that save lives together, stay together.'
Any other time you'd have laughed.
But when Robby was around every corner, glaring yet refusing to talk to you you couldn't find amusement in it.
The night had come and you were catching a break at the ambulance bay, sitting down on the curb. You were home in an hour, Denis had already gone to Amy's to deliver a lamb or something and Santos was supposed to be at Garcia's tonight.
But you highly doubted you'd have company.
“Hey,” Jack greeted, walking over to you in his midnight scrubs and bag slung over his shoulder. “How's my favourite day shift resident?”
You smiled a tired one at him. “How much money do you have in your wallet?”
Without a beat Jack fetched it and offered you what he had. Because that's the kind of guy Jack was.
“No, no,” you chuckled. “I don't need your cash. There's a betting pool on about who I'm sleeping with. I just- I was gonna ask you to not place a bet.”
Jack laughed, setting next to you on the curb, stretching out his prosthetic leg. “Would be a bit unfair seeing's as I'm best pals with the guy you're dating.”
“Not dating,” you corrected. “Probably not even seeing each other after today.”
Jack listened as you explained the distance, the glares, the snapping that returned to Robby. He didn't jump to defend his friend, he listened to you and took notes mentally. “The guys an emotional wreck. You know that. I know that.”
“But I thought he was doing better?”
“He was- is. Since he started dating you,” he said. “You ask me he's dealing with some emotions he doesn't know how to process. Jealousy. Greed. What's the other deadly sin?”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Lust?”
“Yeah. That.”
“So I'm supposed to what? Let him be a dick all over again?”
“Oh fuck no,” said Jack firmly. “Put him in his place.”
Admittedly you didn't want to. You wanted to go back to being whatever it was you had with Robby. You wanted to hold hands and share beers in shitty bars at least an hour out of town so it was kept a secret. You wanted the brush of hands between the rush of patients and the discreet meetings at his or yours.
But how far were you willing to bend before you broke?
“So who's everyone putting bets on anyway?” Jack asked.
“Frank.”
Understanding of the situation hit him. “Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah.”
Suddenly the wail of an ambulance cut through the quiet.
The doors burst open, Robby, Santos, King, Jesse all pouring out.
“GSW to the chest, forty-two year old male, weak pulse, un-conscious on the ride over,” said Robby tugging on his gloves as you and Jack jumped up. He spared a glance at the two of you before the ambulance pulled up.
You jumped into it, wheeling the gurney ahead into trauma two. Everyone working around the man.
“Okay we move him on the count of three,” said Jack as you all got a hold of the patient. “One... two... three!”
He was heavier than some, not that it would effect your level of care but it made moving him just that but more difficult. There was a breath of air and struggle from Jack and Robby, the noises you had to drown out.
“Lets get an intubation tray going!” called Robby.
The two of you crossed each other, swapping sides.
“Can we talk later?” he uttered as he paused for only a second.
“Whatever, Robby.”
He sighed heavy.
The rest of you carried on gaging the extent of his injury.
“So do you want me out the apartment tonight so your man friend can come around?” asked Santos at your side.
“I want you out cause I'm annoyed at you.”
“Ouch.”
“Okay we need to turn him to see if it went through, on my say!” yelled Robby.
The team had thinned as orders had been barked, there were two of you on either side of him: Robby and Jack, and you and Santos.
Robby passed a nod. “Okay, roll!”
You and Trinity pulled while the men on the other side pushed but maybe Robby didn't have a good grip or maybe he hadn't expected him to be so heavy.
Robby grunted and groaned. “Ah, urg-”
“Not through,” Jack grunted.
You tried to lower him as slow as you could but it wasn't slow enough as Robby's hand got trapped under.
“Oh! Fuck me!”
You and Jack lifted the body quick and Robby released his hand.
Santos was frozen.
The whole room seemed to pause for a second.
“Oh my god!” Santos cheered, arms thrown wide. “Oh my god, oh my god!”
What was wrong with her?
It took you a second to realise, memory of last night coming to you.
Robby over you, thrusting careful.
Your body moved with his thrusts but you wrapped your legs around him, pushing his pelvis in till you felt the length of him deep. “Deeper, harder,” you'd begged.
Robby had groaned out loud, just the way you liked to hear him. “Oh! Fuck me!”
He'd uttered the words into you as he pressed his weight down, squashing you onto your squeaky bed. He'd wrapped his hands around your neck, squeezing just enough to have your walls fluttering around his cock.
Santos had been home longer than you'd thought.
Now, she was practically jumping up and down, smirking. “Oh my god!”
“Trinity can I talk to you outside please?”
“It's- you- and-” her arms were waving around.
“Outside, please, Trinity!”
Everyone was staring.
“Trinity, outside!” You guided her out and she let you, abandoning the trauma and ripping off her gown. You returned, finding Robby's gaze and Jack's amused grin as he tended to the patient. “Sorry, Doctor Robby, may I talk to Santos outside for a moment?”
Robby must have jumped to the same conclusion as you. “Er yes, yes! Of course, go!”
You rushed out, nudging Trinity into an empty exam room as she laughed. You closed the door and pulled the curtain over the glass.
“It's Doctor Robby!” she said at once. “It's Doctor Robby! You're sleeping with Doctor Robby!”
“Can you keep your voice down?”
Santos laughed again, a full belly laugh. “Oh my god, this whole time I thought it was Frank. Oh, I'm so happy.” She wiped at amused tears.
“Hey!”
“How long have you been sleeping with him?”
You shook your head, tugging off your own hospital gown. “It doesn't matter.”
Finally Trinity considered you. Her laughter died. “What-what do you mean?”
How could you explain that what she'd heard last night was over hardly twenty-four hours later.
The door pushed open and Robby stepped through, gown and gloves already gone.
“Is everything okay in here?” he asked, looking between the two of you.
“You and you?” Trinity confirmed, finger gesturing between the two of you.
Robby ran his hands through the back of his hair.
“I just can't believe it,” she said. “You guys are dating?”
Robby sighed out a “yes” at the same time you shook your head, “no”
Now, Robby looked at you.
Santos folded her arms over her chest, smirking and watching like the two of you were her favourite show. “Oh.”
Robby's hands fell to his hips as he looked at you. “What do you mean, no?”
“What do you mean, yes?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” he chuckled.
Your rubbed at your temples. “I'm so confused.”
“You're confused, I'm confused,” Robby scoffed.
“Wait- I'm confused,” said Santos. “You guys don't know if you're dating or not?”
Robby's eyes squeezed shut in frustration. “Doctor Santos, please. Go make yourself useful.”
Trinity didn't move. She looked at you, waiting for what you wanted. Because yes, Robby was her attending but you were her friend. When she was insecure about Garcia you were there telling her how much better she could do.
In the hospital Santos was guided under Robby.
At home, she was guided by friendship and care for you.
You gave her a nod and she dismissed herself.
You didn't know where to look, didn't know where to touch.
Outside the usual routine of the Pitt carried on.
Robby sighed, hands going into his fleece pocket. “You didn't know we were dating?”
No, you really didn't. “Was I supposed to? You never asked.”
He shook his head, looking down with a chuckle. He started to list things off, counting them off on his fingers. “Flowers, dinners, day trips, was that not enough?”
“But you never said!”
“I thought it was obvious!”
“Obvious to who?”
“To us!” His hands fell to your forearms.
“No to you maybe!”
“So the dinners... the flowers, you thought it was all just, just sex?” he asked.
You'd hoped it was more. You'd dreamt about it when his weight kept you down on his bed after you kissed and made love for hours. Love...
“I... yeah.”
How long had you thought him the bad guy? Were you the one that had been distant, pulling away?
You carried yourself away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed. You never realised how uncomfortable those things were.
Robby laughed to himself, standing for a moment longer. He checked that nobody was around through the curtain before he settled next to you. He shuffled, his bodies attention focused on you. He laid a hand on your knee, tilting his head to try to look at you. “I should have asked, properly.”
“It would've saved confusion,” you admitted.
Robby's hand came up, cradling your face and drawing your attention to him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your cheek.
You looked at him, finding nothing but warmth in his gaze. The only thing that had been there for three months. “But today, you... you could hardly look at me.”
He took in a deep breath. “I was...” his jaw ticked.
You smirked. “Jealous?”
His eyes flickered back to yours. “Nobody on that board thought I could be dating you.”
“Till about two seconds ago I didn't even know we were dating,” you joked.
Robby shook his head, wetting his lips. “We are.”
“You're not even going to ask me?”
“I don't need to,” he said. “We're dating, that okay with you?” His face inched closer.
“I don't know, I might have to ask Frank that one,” you teased.
Robby leant back, a dark look to him. The hand caressing you fell to your neck, keeping you looking at him. “You think that's funny?”
“Everyone else thinks so-”
He pulled you in by your neck and kissed you, hard, the imprint of his teeth felt through your lips.
You held onto him, kissing him with a new need. Kissing your boyfriend. Your hands wound around his head and you brought him down on top of you.
Robby climbed atop the bed that was not made for heavy make out sessions. He held the edge with one hand and the other fell down your body till it could crawl up your scrub top, un-tucking it and holding onto your hips.
He bit down on your lip and used the opening of your mouth to slide in his tongue.
“This is un-professional,” you said against his lips.
“I've been wanting to be un-professional for months.”
You were so lost in the feel of each other you didn't notice the curtain being yanked back until you heard.
“We got him stable,” said Jack, casually. “Oh and you've got an audience.”
You looked over Robby's shoulder as he looked back to see nosey nurses and night shifters along with half the day staff all looking at you.
You tapped his shoulder and though resigned to, Robby slowly climbed off you.
“Who put down Robby?” Ahmed called. “Did anyone bet Robby?”
The crowd that had watched you both suddenly rushed to the board, scanning the name.
Eventually you and Robby joined, waiting.
“Oh my god.”
“There he is, Robby, one vote!”
Robby's head perked in confusion.
“Who is it? Who?”
Ahmed collected the money and made his way through the people. To the one who had made a bet on Robby. “Doctor Robby, three months, and serious.”
He delivered the money- to everyone's shock- to Frank.
Your jaw hung open as Frank collected the money.
Everyone looked at him, silent.
You couldn't tell if next to you Robby was okay with it or angered.
Frank looked around at everyone. “C'mon, nobody else saw it? He's been happier for three months and can't take his eyes off her.”
Clealry, nobody had.
“I thought you didn't bet?” you asked him.
Frank shrugged, bashful. “Yeah well, couldn't help myself. Here-” Langdon held out the wad of cash to Robby's hand, practically forcing it in. “Take her somewhere nice.”
You wished you had a camera to capture Robby's shock.
“Okay folks! Show's over!” called out Dana. “Day shift let's pass on to night so we can get out of here to have some fun!” she winked your way.
Slowly the crowd dissipated, shaking their heads in disappointment.
Ahmed was already pulling off the notes and rubbing away at the board.
Robby waved the cash in front of you. “What do you say, you gonna let your boyfriend treat you tonight?”
synopsisupon returning to the ED Robby is surprised to find not only the ED not up in flames but you have a new someone on your arms. er cross over!
main masterlist. other robby fic!
Robby gave it an hour before he asked about you- which to him seemed a fair amount of time. Everyone else around him groaned.
“Yes!” Trinity Santos cheered.
He frowned at her as Ahmed sulked over to his betting board, collecting up money and double checking. He looked around at everyone. “What's going on?”
“We had a bet,” said Dana, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and clipboard balanced on her hip. “How long it would take you to ask about y/n.”
“I said five minutes,” said Princess.
“I thought you would get to lunch, at least,” said Dana.
“I knew you'd do an hour, exact!” Santos cheered. She clasped her hands in front of her as if in prayer. “Thank you!”
When Robby got back from his sabbatical he fully expected to be unleashed to chaos. He thought his doctors and nurses would fall to their knees, elated to have him back. He expected chairs to be overflowing out the door and patients that had been in beds when he left to still be there. He expected you to be in the same room he left you.
Instead everyone welcomed him back with smiles, pats on the back and 'happy to have you back, boss.'
There were no tears, no fire.
And apparently, no you.
“You must really have had nothing going on.” He pushed himself up from the counter, peering at Santos. “How much money have you just made?”
“Five-hundred and fifty dollars,” she said, proudly.
Had the whole hospital and patients bet on him?
Robby pushed himself up from the counter, lazily walking around it as if he wasn't looking for you. He'd given himself an hour, wasn't that enough? In the three months he was away he'd only text you a handful of times, asking how you were? How was work? If his one singular, pathetic, house plant he brought just so you had an excuse to go to his house and house sit was doing ok?
Your answers were kept curt. Polite. Half the time he waited most of the day for a reply, which was expected, he knew the demands of the job.
But a vacation that was originally for him to find peace and self reflect only brought him thoughts of you.
“Does anyone want to tell me where she is?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He wasn't doing a good enough job.
“She's with her new Robby,” said Doctor McKay.
His head clocked to her slowly. “Her what?”
“New med student, started three days ago,” said Dana, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. “Name's John Carter, been practically attached to the hip since.”
“I didn't know we were getting a new med student.”
“Transfer from Westbridge.”
“He's good,” said McKay with an approving nod. “Super young. Cute too.” Her legs were kicked up on the desk as she clicked a pen repeatedly, watching Robby with a sly smile.
“Yeah, y/l/n has him started in triage,” said Whitaker.
“Reminds me of you,” said Dana.
Robby nodded short and held himself still for a second. Then he started moving, past them all as they all laughed between themselves as he bee-lined for triage. On the way through he plucked twenty dollars from the roll Santos counted from.
“Hey!”
“Okay, that's good. Now close it up.”
“Yes ma'am,” said John as he pulled at the stitches at Mrs Doyle's scalp.
“Ma'am,” said Mrs Doyle. “You've got this one trained well.”
John chuckled, focused intently on the stitches as you loomed close behind him, watching his sutures as you had for almost three days. “That she does.”
You smiled to yourself. When John Carter walked in three days ago, lingering at the counter un-sure where to go with his impressively clean and pressed scrubs you were dubious. He seemed too clean, too pure to be in the ED. You'd basically said as much. But you showed him to chairs and you talked him through stitching and he stitched up every wound on the first day.
On the second you let him order CT's and Blood tests.
Today you were thinking of taking him into some of your cases in the ED, getting him in the dirt of it all.
You'd been working hard all three months to not think about Robby. Med student John Carter was just what you needed. A surprise distraction to focus your brain on a new body and not an absence.
“Okay, Mrs Doyle,” you said, stepping away from John to look through her chart. “As it's the scalp we only ask you to keep the bandage on for twenty-four hours. Other than that keep it as dry as you can and John, how long till she can come back to get them removed?”
John's hair was dark and looked incredibly soft. It flopped over sometimes and he'd blow up to move it in a strange, endearing move. “Er, a couple days? Three?”
You waited for him to correct himself when another voice spoke up at the door.
“Face is five, scalp and head is a week.”
You wished you hadn't turned as quick as you did, wish your body didn't warm at the voice. But you did.
Michael Robinavitch stood in the doorway, rubbing sanitiser into his hands.
“You're back.”
He nodded.
For a moment you stared, trying to gage how you should react. Was he well-rested? Worse then before he left? Was he hiding everything behind a mask again?
Behind you, John Carter cleared his throat.
“Oh er-” your world that seemed so focused on training John the last few days suddenly shrunk and kicked him out. All she saw was Robby. “Doctor Robby, this is Med student John Carter, third year. John this is our attending Doctor Robinavitch.”
John put out his hand. He was still wearing his gloves.
Robby didn't move to shake his hand and after a painful moment, John lowered it, tugging off the blue gloves. He looked over the two's head to Mrs Doyle sitting at the chair as Donnie hovered around. “Come back if there's any irritation or swelling. Keep it dry and we'll see you in five days to see how it goes.”
It was not just dismission for her but you and Carter too.
You fell into step behind Robby, Carter falling into step behind you.
“Carter, Dana tells me you've been on triage and suturing the last three days,” said Robby.
“I thought it best to ease him in,” you said.
“You'd never done them before?”
“No, sir,” said Carter, quick on your heels and eager to follow the two of you.
“What did you do at Westbridge?”
“Dermatology and Psychiatry.”
You could see the irritated smile creeping in. “Be nice.”
Robby glanced down at you with a classic look of disbelief. It was the same looked many of them had at the desk, which was mainly why you stepped in. Everyone had to start somewhere.
“You done an IV before Carter?”
“Er... as of yesterday. With Doctor y/l/n's help.”
The three of you ended up in the main work area, others eyes being drawn up to you.
“Perfect, Doctor McKay you've got a patient north two, I want you to teach Carter here everything you know!” ordered Robby.
There was little room for movement in his order as McKay stood, gesturing on Carter who seemed frozen in place, like a lost puppy being took away from it's owner.
You had to nod at him to send him away.
Robby folded his arms over his chest, rocking lightly on his heels. “I thought we didn't coddle Med students.”
“I haven't coddled him, I've been teaching him. What did you want me to do? Throw him into GSW's and Spinal taps when he can't stitch up a cut?”
“Throw them in the deep end and they learn, you did.”
“Not everyone can be as good as me.”
“No they cannot but I don't like all the time you've been spending with Carter the last three days.”
Your eyes rolled. “You've been here what? An hour and you're already getting on my ass.”
“New world record or so I've heard,” he said. “Get back to picking up patients, Carter can trail everyone else.”
“But me?”
“But you.”
“Gee, nice to have you back, Doctor Robby.”
You walked away.
You'd promised in the three months he's been gone you'd do better on his arrival. You wouldn't rise to his taunts, you'd go to anyone else before him and you would certainly stop sleeping with the guy every time one of you needed a release.
The first month you threw yourself into work, picking up doubles and taking on more cases than anyone else. By the second month you'd almost crashed and gone back to moping that Robby had up and left you without so much a kiss. The third things settled, work got normal (or as normal as possible) things were looking up.
He just had to come back.
But you'd stopped counting since Carter came in. All smooth skin and dimpled smile and soft hair.
You'd been at the desk surrounded by Emma, Dana, Princess, Perlah and Javadi when you all spotted him.
“He's cute,” you commented.
“He kind of reminds me of someone,” said Dana, head clocked.
“Who?”
Everyone was silent, waiting for you to catch on. Three days later you were still trying to figure out who.
As you walked away you heard Robby follow, steps heavy. “You're not even gonna ask me how my trip was?”
“Clearly you lots of sleep cause you're up and at them this morning!”
“It was great, just me and my thoughts. Didn't kill myself, know you were worried about that.”
“Can't think why now.”
“You know your life would be boring without me.”
“And yet I'm so full of joy to have you back.”
“I know it's practically radiating from you.”
When you turned to face him- adamant your three months or progress go down the drain- you hadn't realised how close he stopped to you. You collided with his chest.
“You saying you haven't missed me?” he asked, voice low.
Of course you had. Every morning you walked into work and realised you wouldn't see him. Every night when you went to sleep without talking to him.
“I've been a bit too busy to miss you.”
“Busy with Carter, is that it?”
“I thought you were self reflecting on that motorcycle trip?” you asked. “You come in here sounding jealous.”
Quickly he shook his head. “Not jealous just... concerned with how much time you and this student have been spending together.”
You could've said something about how you were a student when you and Robby first slept together, but you were supposed to be doing better. It wasn't exactly a show of that if you implanted the idea of sleeping together again in his head. And you knew it would.
Instead, you patted him on the shoulder once. “Then he's all yours.”
You'd successfully avoided both Carter and Robby the last hour, you'd admitted a patient with lower abdominal pain in for CT's and an ultrasound, awaiting bloods. Whilst waiting, you bugged Dana.
“Alright, I give up. Who does Carter remind you of?”
Dana laughed. “Geez, kid, you still haven't figured it out?”
You shook your head.
Dana was still laughing as she pulled out her phone, scrolling while you took a seat, filling your time with charts. She scrolled far down. “Here.”
On her phone she had a picture pulled up. You knew it was Robby, as in your mind registered that but this was a younger Robby. His head of hair was fuller and longer. His skin was clearer and smoother. His eyes were the same dark warmth but he had a growing beard. It was Robby, just as handsome, only less worn by life.
“Why do you have an old picture of Robby on your phone?”
“That's not the point, the point is you're not seeing what's right in front of you.”
As an answer Dana pulled you up and held up her phone. On one side was the phone, the young picture of Robby. Over to the left you saw John Carter in the flesh, putting an IV in a patient. His face was moved in concentration.
You looked back and forth. Back and forth, then the two started to blur and you were seeing nothing. “I don't get it.”
“Oh my god,” groaned Dana, slamming her phone down.
“Are you trying to say they look alike?” you asked, chasing her down as she left your side. “Dana?”
“Of course that's what I'm saying. Jesus, they could be brothers!”
“I've really never noticed.”
“Maybe cause you're trying so hard to forget Robby you're ignoring the obvious. You've picked up another one!”
You laughed away the idea. You had not gone through three months of self-torture for this revelation. “That's not what I'm doing I was just... I'm just-”
“Filling that empty void in your heart.”
“Robby has no place in my heart.”
A lie and Dana was like a hound dog when it came to lies. She could smell them a mile away.
“Oh sweetie, you can lie all you like,” said Dana, grasping your hand and squeezing. “But you can't kid me. You were heartbroken when he left because you love the guy. You love who you love and sometimes it's not the easiest person but you can't kid yourself.”
You were doing rather well kidding yourself. Sleeping in his bed at his place on the nights you told yourself you were too tired to drive back to yours. Only replying simply to his texts as a way of keeping your distance despite the hundreds of miles between you two.
All you had to do was keep it together for the foreseeable future.
Dana left you with her words of wisdom and leaving you to look at Carter. Maybe there was some resemblance in the looks. If someone put Robby in a time machine and de-aged him then maybe you could see it.
But Carter was patient, kind, gentle in ways you knew Robby to be short tempered, hard at times and rough. That was how you'd grown to know him. Just because Carter was different didn't make you want him any less.
Annoyingly.
Doctor Robby hadn't chosen to keep himself busy but after being away for three months there was much work that apparently required his attention.
Another deposition had taken place on Santos, the programme he'd put Langdon through needed a letter of recommendation, along with the general patients he had to deal with and the traumas. There was also everyone who wanted to know about the trip but what was he supposed to say other than he slept, swam in the lake, drove around and thought about you.
All he wanted was to take cases with you, ask if you were coming to his tonight, ask if he could see you the next day and the next and for the rest of his life. He'd been away for three months, thinking. He didn't want to be away from you ever again.
Instead he was asking about the bowel movements of an eighty-six year old.
By the time he'd come out, slinging off his gloves, the only person waiting for him was that young John Carter.
“Doctor McKay ordered labs and bloods for our patient, until them am I okay to go with Doctor y/l/n?” he asked with a voice soft and innocent.
Was that what you were into? Soft and innocent after three months?
Robby knew he'd done wrong. Knew he'd wanted you close- impossibly so- but pushed you away, maybe too far. Too hard.
In the three months away he'd tried to think of a million ways of winning you back. All grand ideas that you'd hate.
“No,” said Robby. “There's a trauma in, waiting for the OR. You can join Jesse, watch their vitals. Then you can check in with Doctor Santos, she's got a eleven year old laceration to the leg and rash, go find out what that is.”
Carter stood there, slowly taking in everything he had said. “Doctor Robby-”
“Robinavitch,” he corrected.
“McKay said everyone calls you Robby?”
“Everyone does, you can call me Robinavitch,” he said, peering at him through his glasses.
“Doctor Robinavitch, I think I work well under Doctor y/l/n and I see she's on the board with a suspected cyst on the ovary in south two, could I possibly-”
“No you cannot,” said Robby. “Med students do not get to pick and chose their cases, especially dermatology types.”
There was a huff but Robby elected to ignore him for his sake.
“Okay.” Slowly, as if hoping he'd change his mind, Carter walked off.
Robby watched him walk, then looked to the board where your name was written. “Carter!” he called.
The kid turned.
“Twenty minutes I'll need you on the eighth floor, east wing, room three.”
Carter nodded and walked off.
That gave Robby ten minutes to find you.
Next to him, Dana chortled. “Like looking in a mirror.”
He was too aggravated to ask what she meant, he only caught her phone rising as he snapped a picture or him and the shuffling away Carter.
When Robby pulled you off of charting you could only assume it was for something urgent, but he took up up the floors, diving further into the hospital than you usually went till you were in the abandoned eighth floor. There were still beds and equipment littered around, just nobody to use it all.
“Robby, what are we doing?” you asked, a borderline complaint.
He pushed open a door, urging you in.
The two of you stood in a room of dust, empty begs and curtains pulled over a window. He nudged the door close, keeping it open with just a slit of light from the corridor.
“Robby?”
You'd known him long enough- and well enough- that you could see the tension in his back and shoulders. They were pulled as his arms flexed as he cupped the back of his head, smoothing down the hair there.
“Okay,” he sighed, as if gearing himself up to something. “I had a lot of time for self reflection on my trip. Too much of it.”
“I can only imagine how rough that was.”
He held up a hand, face scrunched, basically begging for a chance to talk. Usually you wouldn't give it but you shut up and listened.
“I'm a mess, that's not changed. I'll always say things I don't mean and do things I regret. But I don't want to regret you,” he said. “What we had before I left: It was casual, it was a fling. I want it to be more.”
Your heart stuttered. Your entire body jerked in response. How many times had you dreamt about words just like that? You dug your fingernails into your palms, begging it not to be a dream now.
“When I text you saying I miss you, that wasn't a lie. I did. I have. And I will if you say you don't want to see me again. I'm not saying it'll be easy, I am not easy, I know. But I- I want to try to be better. For you.”
There was no rush of emotion pushing you into his arms, no rush of blood. Only a quiet disbelief.
“But before you left,” you gulped. “Before you said you could never be anything more.”
“I know, I know,” said Robby quietly. His steps were light as he dared a step next closer. “I was messed up. I was scared. I thought you'd be better off without me but the truth is... I'm not better without you and I have no hope of being.”
You stared at the man. He looked just like the Michael Robinavitch that left the ED three months ago. But he was changed, it was in the softer lines around his eyes and the small warmth in his eyes. It was in the way he stood in front of you, earnest and complete with a hand stretched out to the small gap between your bodies.
“How do I know you won't get bored of this?” you asked, uttering the words like you couldn't believe you were saying anything but yes. “You've only been back a couple hours, when it gets tough again how do I know you won't just shut down on us all again?”
Robby's finger traced the back of your hand, a feather light touch. “Because you won't let me.”
You could taste the mint on his breath as he leant down and kissed you, softly. It was a gentle brush of his lips, testing the taste of you and the weight of his affections. His lips ran over yours a couple times, remembering the shape before he pulled back.
You only got a quick look at him before you collided.
Your lips pressed to his hard and un-forgiving. Trying to meld them into one and tattoo yourself there. His arms were strong around you, keeping you into him as his tongue invaded your mouth. Your arms went around his shoulders, body aching into him.
“God-” he mumbled against your lips. His hands ventured down, running over the curve of your backside and squeezing till your pelvis was flush with his.
“I missed you,” you admitted against his lips, the words lost in his mouth.
You could feel the grin against you. “Yeah?”
“Mmh-mm.”
He kissed you openly, tongue getting the taste of you as another hand curled in between your bodies, groping a breast as he trailed his lips down the side of your neck leaving a wet path down.
You were breathless, gasping for the freshest of air with him when a crash sounded outside the door.
Robby was still attached to you as he bit on your neck as you whipped around, facing the noise.
There was a flash of scrubs and brown hair before it was gone before your eyes, darting down the corridor. But you'd spent enough time around that face to know it.
“Was that Carter?”
Slowly Robby rose up and looked at the desolate corridor. He shrugged, a large hand spread over your back.
But when you glanced back at him you caught the bite back of a smirk.
synopsisyou and Robby have always had an un-spoken understanding, that if you were two different people you'd fall in love. but he was a mess and refused to bring you down. so instead, fate threatens to take you away forever
warningsANGST. so much angst. stabbing. blood. near death. operations. typical hospital stuff but a happy ending
authornotethis is just completely ripped from that episode of ER when John Carter gets stabbed, like the medical talk is all from that. I also feel like this may be slight ooc robby cause I have struggle with how this man would be affectionate. i had a hell of a lot of fun writing this, angst is by far my favourite, i hope you like too
Pitt masterlist. Other Robby fic!
You weren't sure if it was the thumping in your head or the drum in your heart but you watched Robby closely. It could have been the injury to your head or the closeness of him that had your heart reacting in such a way.
You blamed it on the injury.
“Give it to me straight, Doc,” you joked. One of his gloved hands cupped your chin, nudging your gaze up. The other dabbed gently at the cut to your forehead. “Am I gonna make it?”
There was a line of displeasure in his lips. “Not funny,” he mumbled.
“Sure it is.”
“No, it's not.”
You rolled your eyes before going back to focusing on him.
It was rare you got to watch him in his concentration. Usually you were in the middle of a trauma when he pulled out the serious face and things were moving too fast for you to even catch a glimpse. Now- his focus was all on you. You could study the creases at his brows and the flecks of grey in his beard.
“You ever notice you have these deep lines between your eyebrows when you're concentrating?”
“It's called age,” he said but there was the smallest hint of a smile there.
“Aren't you twenty-seven?”
This time he couldn't stop the smirk of amusement and finally you won.
Robby dabbed away the blood at your cut, changing the gauze. “Don't think you're distracting me.”
You hummed as he tilted your head into the light. “Distracting you from what?”
“Reporting him.”
You grew silent and looked away.
It was Robby's turn to stare at you, eyes without warmth, stern in ways he was with patients that didn't want to listen to good advice. You may be sitting on a bed in exam room four and you may have a chart written up but you were not a patient. “He was scared and confused-”
“ - he pushed you.”
“And I was the one that tripped and bashed my head.”
“He threw you down!”
You winced at his snap and then winced at the pain your wincing brought you.
Robby sighed with some sort of regret. His fingertips brushed your skin as he finished cleaning the cut and you couldn't help but think it was a deliberate move. He'd been so careful not to touch or apply pressure but suddenly the callous of his fingers were there.. “If we don't take care of ourselves nobody else will do it.”
It was the same thing Dana had said to you when she saw the patient push you down and run out the room in distress, hospital gown slipping on his shoulders. She'd taken you under her arm, stirred you to a chair. She was firm in both checking you were okay and that you were going to report him for hurting you.
You look past Robby, trying to see through the glass door. The Pitt carried on it's usual bustle but Dana kept a close eye out on you in the room. “Where is he now?”
“None of your concern,” he said. “The cut's clean, looks like you won't need stitches.”
“You've restrained him haven't you?”
Robby frowned. His head shook slightly in disbelief- like he couldn't believe you. “He hurt you. Jesus- you think I was gonna just tuck him back in bed- you think Dana was!”
You were used to the rise in Robby's voice, as attending it was his job to command everyone. You just didn't like to hear it risen at you. “He woke up, confused and startled.”
The patient was brought in un-conscious at the side of the road, a gash in his arm. Nobody knew his name but you'd admitted him and ran some tests while he was semi-conscious. He'd woken up as you were checking his IV and the next thing you knew hard hands were pushing you away. You'd taken the tray down with you and smacked your head in the process. Then he'd ran and then Robby had you in his arms, willing to pick you up and carry you off if it weren't for your insistence to walk to an exam room.
Robby's body heaved in a sigh as he put his hands on his thighs. “He hurt you,” he repeated, looking up at you through his eyelashes.
You slowly met his gaze as he got closer on the stall in front of you. “I've had worse.”
It wasn't supposed to be a dig but as his eyes met yours in a haze of dark anxiety you figured it came off that way.
Really what happened between you and Robby was ancient history. A whole six months since you'd stopped seeing each other; if that's what it could be called. It was really only one stupid kiss and several flirts that created the thick tension between you two. Nothing had ever been done to encourage it further, yet nothing had also been done to squash it.
Whilst his gaze remained on you, Robby got out his penlight and checked your pupil reaction.
“Any pain?”
“Well, the light's a bit bright.”
He put it down and with his gloved hands he slowly pressed around the small cut on your forehead, hands cupping your face tenderly. “Any pain?”
“No, you've done all this twice now.”
“It's procedure for any patient.”
“It's special treatment,” you grumbled.
Robby grabbed a bandage from the tray. “You're a special patient.”
The heat crept up your cheeks before you stared at the bandage.
“Robby-”
In one hand he held a bandage, in the other a small spider-man plaster that he so obviously got from pedes.
You stared at him. “Really?”
His cheeks tilted in a small teasing grin. “All we have, I'm afraid.”
You seriously doubted it but tapped the spider-man plaster nonetheless. “I'm sure I could have done this myself, you know,” you said as he peeled away the plaster. “Or at least got one of the nurses to do it. I'm sure you're needed somewhere more important.”
He frowned again. “More important?”
“There's a guy that came in with a GSW to the chest ten minutes ago and you're saying you don't need to be there?”
Robby's hands fell to either side of your face, gently taking your cheeks. His thumb brushed the curve of your cheek bone. He could feign he was checking your pupils but you both knew better. “There's nowhere else I need to be.”
Six months ago you'd kissed in a bar ten minutes away from the Pitt. Every day since- you'd been fighting the urge to kiss him again.
At that moment, with his gentle touch and soft gaze, you wondered if he'd been fighting to.
“Look up,” Robby said with a clear of his throat.
You weren't sure what he was trying to check for anymore. Maybe he was just looking for an easy way out.
“I still want you to get a CT scan.”
“Now that's dramatic, I didn't expect that from you.”
“Any nasuea?”
You shook your head as Robby steadied you, sliding the plaster in place.
“Have you been drinking enough today?”
“Two cups of coffee count?”
Robby gave you a plain look as he yanked off the latex gloves, throwing them into a corner of the room. “Ten minutes rest, I'll bring you some food and water.”
You sighed dramatically. “Robby!”
He pushed himself up from his stool. “As you're attending I'm not asking, I'm-”
“Telling?” you guessed.
Robby hovered as you pushed yourself up back on the bed. You wouldn't say it but your head was hurting from the fall. Nothing more than a headache that some painkillers couldn't stop. If you told Robby that yes, you were in pain, you were sure he'd pull the curtain, change you into a gown and play doctor all day.
You lied back on the pillow as Robby plumped it and smoothed out the sheets under you. He was lingering and for a moment you thought of asking him to stay.
Your mouth had opened to ask when the door was nudged open.
“Robby, we got a car crash coming in five,” said Dana. She looked at you then, eyes crinkled in worry. “How you feeling, hun?”
“I'm fine, thanks Dana.”
She nodded once, offering you a small smile before leaving.
You looked up at Robby as his body lingered over yours, one arm stretched high above your head, the other lower. Your gaze flickered up and you could feel the warmth of his breath fan over you. “Ten minutes?” you asked.
“On the clock.”
“Then I'm free to go?”
His head tilted, a sly smirk playing around his thin beard. “I'm not keeping you a prisoner.”
You folded your arms over your chest, glancing away. “Feels like it.”
He chuckled lightly. For a moment his breath lingered over your forehead, closer than before.
When you glanced up he froze, hands clenched on the bed, his jaw taunt. It was as if you'd caught him in the act.
Suddenly you wished you hadn't looked up. You wished you'd let him do whatever he was going to do. Because once he'd been caught he straightened up and threw you an awkward thumbs up. “Ten minutes.”
You trace your finger over the plaster as you slowly left your room, creeping out like you were a teenager sneaking out of your parents to meet a guy. Except you were trying to avoid the guy.
“That was eight minutes!”
You looked up and found Robby at the nurses station, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Were you timing me?”
Robby held up his phone, showing you the timer he had counting down as next to him, Dana snorted. “Have you had something to drink? Or eat?” he asked as you leant over the counter. He was still watching you eagerly, waiting for any sign you were in more pain then you let on so he could send you back to bed.
“Thought you were getting me a drink?”
He rolled his eyes before obliging, sliding away to get you a drink. He turned back only once. “Don't go near him!” he called, the both of you knowing who the he was.
You saluted him, watching him go before turning to Dana. “How is he?”
She peered at you over her glasses. “Terrible. He's been worried sick, was practically watching you through those windows. Didn't blink for a minute!”
“Not Robby, my patient. The John Doe.”
“Well that ain't your concern anymore," she said.
“I want to treat him.”
“He's awake now, we've restrained him in twelve but Robby wants you nowhere near him.”
“Robby is over-reacting,” you sighed.
Dana lifted her shoulders. “Of course he is, it's you. You think he's gonna react rationally?”
Nobody was supposed to know about you and Robby and the thing that lingered in the middle. But somehow, Dana always ended up knowing everything.
You backed away from the counter, assuring Robby was nowhere to be seen. “Twelve, you said right?”
Dana huffed but lucky for you there were a dozen more things she needed to do. “Fine! Go! But take security with you!”
You saluted and headed that way. Outside the door, Ahmed was already there.
“Hey, doc,” he greeted. “He's been asking about you, said he wants to apologise.”
You weren't scared like you thought you'd be, stepping into the room while Ahmed promised to stay outside, just a shout away of you needed him. Your heart wasn't pounding as you slowly moved the curtain, finding the patient lying on the bed, restraints around his wrists and tied down. He wasn't thrashing about. He was calm, clocking you as you walked in.
“You're the nurse?” he said.
“Doctor, actually,” you said, introducing yourself.
He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes or add colour to his face. There was nothing in his eyes anyhow. He was pale and the thin bandaging that had been done for his arm while he struggled was bleeding through. “I-I pushed you, I am so sorry.”
You were about to say it was fine, but it wasn't you shouldn't tell him it was. You could accept the apology but still acknowledge that whatever state he was in, you shouldn't have been hurt. “Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital?”
“That's right, PTMC. Can you tell me your name?”
He nodded, gulping. There was a thin layer of sweat over his skin. “David Brown.”
“And do you know what month it is?”
“M-March.”
“Okay, good,” you said, making a quick note of his name in his chart. You sat down on the stool, shuffling to the side of his bed. “Mr Brown-”
“David,” he corrected you.
“David,” you said. “You were brought in just under an hour ago with a pretty bad laceration to your lower right arm. You were found un-conscious. Do you remember anything?”
You watched the sweat bead at his forehead, his eyes scrunched as he tried to think. His breathing grew heavier, face morphed into pain as he tried to think. “It's okay if you don't.”
“I-I don't,” a stray tear fell down his cheek.
“That's okay,” you assured him. “I'm gonna order you a CT and a toxic screening just to rule out any drugs or alcohol in your system. Is that okay?”
David's head jerked in something like a nod before you door swung open, clattering on the other side of the wall.
Robby stood at the end of the bed, face red, hands at his hips. “What are you doing in here?” he snapped.
“Doctor Robby-”
He gave you no time to explain, jutting his head back. “Step outside please, doctor.”
You stood, slowly and walked out slower.
David called out after you. “I really am sorry!”
Robby looked back like he didn't believe him.
The two of you stepped out and you spoke before he could, beating him by a second. “I'm ordering him a CT and toxicity test. That gash on his arms needs to be cleaned and stitched up, it's bleeding out.”
Robby didn't care to hear it. He pulled the curtains over and closed the door as he followed you out. “What did you think you were doing in there?”
“Tending to my patient.”
“I told you to leave him.”
“He wanted to say sorry. Ahmed, didn't he want to apologise?” you said, looking to security for some help.
Ahmed held up his hands. “Oh- I want nothing in this!”
“If he wanted to apologise he could've wrote a letter. Told me to apologise to you,” he said, still holding onto his anger. “I told you to leave it, the guy attacked you!”
“Lightly shoved me from shock!”
“Have you seen what he did to your head?”
“Yeah, a small cut, doesn't even need stitches- that's what you said!”
“It's a wound! There was blood!” he yelled. “You are not to go anywhere near him from now on, do you understand?”
There was a new anger in Robby then, something you saw rarely in him. Dana had said he was worried about you but you saw none of that concern in him now, only anger. Anger because you hadn't listened to him not because of well fair.
“I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to be helping people,” you defended, your own anger not rising to his.
His hands balled into fists. “Help someone who's asking for it. I see you in with that guy again and you're on triage for a week, you understand?”
Where was that softness in his eyes? Where was that care he tended to you in the room all alone?
“You understand?” he snapped again when you didn't answer.
You knew if you turned there'd be several pairs of eyes on the pair of you. Watching, assessing, see how you reacted. Nobody had ever heard Robby speak to you like that because he'd never shouted at you before. “I understand, Doctor Robinavitch.”
“So you yelled at her.”
Robby thought he'd find solace on the roof, that with only him and the night sky he stood a chance at thinking things through logically, for once on the right side of the rail.
Then Jack's voice sounded behind him and the peace he was searching for fell further out of reach.
“Who told you?” he asked, head falling.
“Oh, you know,” he mumbled, shoes shuffling over the roof as he got closer to him. “Just everybody that was in attendance to your little show.”
Jack leant next to him on the rail, staring at him.
Robby could feel his eyes but looked out on the skyline that was more favourable to him. Jacks eyes felt like everybody else that watched him yell at you. He could call it worry- it didn't change the way your face dropped the louder his voice rose.
“You wanna talk about it?” asked Jack.
“No.”
“I heard she got attacked.”
“Or lightly pushed as she'd put it.”
“She's a soldier.”
Robby shook his head. “No, she's a doctor. Today she could have been neither if that man-” the words chocked in his throat. What if he had hurt you even more? Punched you? Strangled you? He'd seen it all in the ER and yes, you'd been hurt before but that didn't mean he needed to have you hurt again.
“I saw her when I was coming up, she seemed fine,” said Jack. “About to clock off, you sure you want to end the day on such a bad note.”
“She doesn't want to talk to me.”
“Come on, she always wants to talk to you,” said Jack. “And I only know that cause you always want to talk to her.”
Robby wished he could say that telling Jack about the kiss so many months ago was a mistake but he couldn't because that would mean kissing you was a mistake. The only mistake made with that kiss is that he hadn't pulled you back in, kissed you every day since. But he'd told Jack on one of those lonely nights when they'd each had one too many beers how much he missed you even if he saw you every day.
“I was so fucking scared, brother,” he admitted with a long exhale of breath. Robby slumped over the rail, catching himself. “Code hula-hoop was called and her name and I- I didn't know...”
Jack's hand was firm on his back. “I know.”
Robby nodded, head tucked down. He wouldn't cry, he wasn't sure how these days but he sure as hell felt like it. It had been a hell of day, worse when he couldn't join your side without you walking off.
“You were worried, you don't know what to do with that,” said Jack.
He could admit that much.
“You go home now, she goes home, you're carrying this weight to the next day and it'll continue,” he said, therapizing him. “You were scared you might have lost her?”
Robby glanced Jack's way. There was never any judgment, only a keen understanding he sometimes didn't like.
“You might lose her if you don't do something about it.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
Jack shrugged. “Apologise.”
Robby hesitated, the words 'I'm sorry' foreign on his tongue.
Jack chuckled low in his throat. “Is that really so hard for you?”
He nodded and Jack carried on laughing. By the end, even Robby was chuckling through watery eyes.
“Okay, okay, let's try,” said Jack, straightening up, encouraging him to do the same. “Repeat after me, I'm sorry.”
“Jesus-”
“Jesus, you can't even say it-listen we'll go slow, I'm-”
Robby's phone rung in his pocket, thankfully saving him from the embarrassment. “Dana-” he answered as he spotted Jack's phone going too.
“Get down here, now!”
“What's going on?” he asked, though his feet were already moving.
He didn't see the way Jack looked at him, he hardly heard how Dana said your name because when she did Robby dropped his phone and ran.
“Robby!” Jack called but he was off the roof and furiously pressing the elevator button. He managed to slide past the doors before they closed on him. “What did Dana say?”
But Robby couldn't speak. He heard Dana's voice re-play in his head again and again. That you had been attacked, that they needed him. He couldn't think beyond that. Beyond you and attacked there was nothing.
Jack was watching him closely. “Okay-” he must've known it was bad too. “Okay, Robby, we don't know what's going on down there but you gotta stay cool, okay? You gotta stay cool or leave us to it.”
He should've kept a closer eye on you, should've sent you home.
“Robby if you get in our way I'm taking you out of there, understand?”
The doors slid open and Robby ran out, Jack quick on his heels.
“Where?” he barked out. There were no faces around him he could figure out, no Dana, no Langdon- so everyone must have been in with you-
“Trauma one!”
Robby burst through the doors.
The chaos was everywhere and he paused. There were more bodies in the trauma room then he'd ever seen. In between them all a body that he could vaguely re-call as yours. Your trainers- usually white- were seeping in blood.
“Can you open your eyes?”
“No respond to command!”
“Two stab wounds to the left flank! First one L-two, second L-five.”
“Is it the spinal chord?” asked Whitaker.
“Can't tell it depends on the angle!” said Langdon. “Jesus- there's too much blood, I can't see a thing!”
You lied on the bed, blood splattered around your clothes, un-responsive to everyone around you. You were letting them prod, push and pull when you'd hardly let him asses your cut just hours ago.
Hours when you were teasing him and he was thinking about kissing you again.
What had happened.
If it was a papercut you'd be feigning death.
This was the closest you'd ever looked to dying and Robby couldn't feel his legs.
"Doctor Robby?" someone called in the room but it wasn't you. You weren't responding to anyone. “Doctor Robby!”
Jack moved past him, body knocking his. “I'm here!”
“BP seventy over fifty, pulse one-twenty.”
Jack moved around you, pressing the chest piece of the stethoscope to your chest. “Push in two litres of O-neg. Good breath sounds bilaterally.”
Robby's ears were ringing but he could feel himself shake his head. “She's not-she's not O-neg, she's B-positive,” he heard himself mumble.
There was a sharp beeping through the room and Robby thought it was a strange sound for his heart breaking.
“Pulse ox ninety-three!”
“Do we intubate?” asked Mohan.
Your body jerked and as if you were the puppet master tugging on his strings, Robby found his feet and moved to your side.
He moved around until he was the closest to you, replacing anyone else at your side. Others watched, un-sure if they should've told him to wait outside like he was family.
Jack gave them the nod and the room moved again.
“Give me ten by mask, no intubation. Send a trauma panel!” ordered Robby.
“We need X-ray for a chest!” yelled Jack.
“X-ray can come to us! I am not moving her!” he shouted. “Help me roll, let me see!”
The blood on the front of your scrubs was splashed but as they turned you, leaning you on your side Robby's body slumped, something like a chocked sob wracking through his body.
He couldn't see the puncture wounds through the blood that soaked you. Just as Langdon had said it was a mess. “Jesus chr- oh god.”
“Pressure's up to ninety palp!”
“Who did this?” he yelled out as they gently set you back.
“The guy who came in un-conscious earlier!”
Jack looked over at Robby.
Robby felt the muscles in his jaws work and he grunted. “I'll kill him,” he grumbled.
“Robby!” lectured Jack.
But he wasn't going to take back his words. “He's fucking dead.”
“He fled the hospital,” Langdon told him. “Left his knife in the room though, they'll find him.”
It couldn't have been a scalpel, it couldn't have been scissors. The guy came in, found a knife- or brought one from home- to harm you. If Robby ever saw him again he'd kill the guy and deal with the consequences that came.
“Toes are down going, no spinal injury,” said someone else in the room but he was losing all focus that wasn't you.
Garcia walked through the doors, joining the crowd of people around you.
“Tell me you've got an OR booked!” said Jack.
“With her name on it! How we doing in here?”
Santos pushed her way ahead, a small and un-characteristic tremble to her hands. There was another unit of blood pushed into your bloodstream and Robby was seconds away from hooking himself up and giving you his very blood. “Pressure's up!” she reported, lingering over you with a light. “Right pupil five millimetres and reactive -”
Suddenly your body jerked at the light. Your head thrashed side to side as you slowly returned to consciousness.
“Huh... I-wha-”
“Hey! Hey!” Robby pushed his way to you, looming over you and catching your eyes.
They were wild, looking around before settling on him.
“Robby?” you uttered, lips dry, dried blood at your neck. Your eyes were looking around like you couldn't quite see.
“Yeah- yeah it's me.” His hand flew to your hair, brushing it back as your eyes were going from him to around you, panic rising in your eyes. “Look at me, focus on me.”
“What-what?”
“You were stabbed,” he uttered.
Your eyes widened and he brushed back your hair again, doctors moving around the two of you. They could've been right on his back or a thousand miles away. All he focused on was you. Your hands waved around, getting in the way of tubes and the doctors.
Robby grabbed your hand, squeezing.
You focused on him and he tried to smile, tried to make himself convinced everything would be alright. He knew it was a grimace.
He'd never hated his medical training more. Because he knew this amount of blood loss was bad, he knew stabbing so close to the spinal chords was dangerous. He knew you were strong and hated staying still for too long and now you'd be forced to recover.
“My pressure?”
“It's up.” He watched as your eyes teared up, looking away from him again. “Good, that's good.”
Your hair sprawled out as you shook your head. “Am I gonna.... will I walk again?”
Robby hesitated. “Yeah- yeah we think it missed your spinal chord.”
Robby knew that but he couldn't help the tears that fell, couldn't help the small sob that ripped through his throat. You'd been calm at the cut with your head, damn right comedic. Now- you were quiet, whimpering and crying in pain and there wasn't anything he could do.
He was a doctor, he could help and check vitals and squeeze the bag of blood slow.
But he couldn't move from your side.
You nod before your back arched in pain and you yelled out.
“BP eighty palp!”
Robby got up, ignoring the ache in his knees as he loomed over you, trying to calm the pain. “Do something!”
“Robby!”
He looked.
You'd drained the blood dry.
“What?” you uttered, voice trembled in terror.
“Okay she needs to go up, now!” Jack called out.
“Let's get her moving!” yelled Garcia.
You groaned in pain. “What's going on?”
Robby didn't know what to do. It wasn't a conversation of telling a patient what was going on or what wasn't. It was telling you. He stuttered lamely, lost as another tear slid down his cheek. You hadn't even cried yet and he was close to blubbering.
His head bowed to you. He was mumbling, he thinks he was praying.
“Robby-” your hand waved out in front of him and he grabbed it, squeezing. “It hurts.”
“Okay, okay, we're gonna-” what was he gonna do? He pressed your hand to his lips, holding it there.
“Hey, honey,” Jack appeared at your other side and your eyes moved to see him but Robby didn't let go. “Hell of a way to get into the night shift.”
“Jack-” you winced.
Jack looked from you to Robby, the same way he looked at the family of unfortunate patients. “We're taking her up to the OR now.”
Your fingers wiggled in Robby's grasp and he looked back to you. “It's bad huh?”
“No, no,” said Robby smoothing back your hair again.
“Your losing a lot of blood, and your foley output is bright red,” said Jack. “But we're gonna sort it and you'll be fine. You trust me?”
Your breathing was shallow, hard breaths hardly coming out. Still, you tried to smile. “Do I- do I have a choice?” your voice came out through seethes of breath.
Robby closed his eyes tight, as if he could feel the own stabbing in his heart.
“Robb-Robby?”
He glanced at you, your eyes fluttering shut. The little hold you had on his hand weakening. He fumbled up, hands holding your cheeks. “Woah-woah- open your eyes! Look at me- look at me!”
You mumbled, head lulling.
“Going up!”
“Look at me, open your eyes!” he all but shouted at you as your eyes were still rolling to the back of his head, wavering between waking and whatever else was on the other side.
“Robby!”
Robby held onto the side of your bed as the team around you wheeled you away and through. There was a stutter of shock waving through the crowd, fear chocking them, shock eating at them. There was police around, all trying to get a look.
“Talk to her, Robinavitch!” said Garcia.
He didn't talk to patients, he evaluated them, stitched them up when he could.
Robby looked up at Jack, hoping for help. He looked grave, watching Robby un-sure but people came back from worse. You'd come back. “Hey, hey look at me,” he uttered and squeezed your hand. When that didn't work he pulled at your eyelids and finally you responded with a grumble.
The elevator doors slid open and you were hauled in, Robby squeezed in too.
“Wh-what?”
He got a flash of your eyes before they closed again.
Your lips were dry and chapped but Robby kissed you anyway, pressing his lips to yours soft, not pushing afraid he'd hurt you but he wanted you to know he was there.
He smiled. He'd never seen you first thing in the morning, he imagined this is what it was. Groggy eyes, words hardly there but with less pain and blood. Robby pulled back and ignored the blood drying in splatters on your neck. “Are you with me, honey?”
You blinked and groaned in pain. “I don't-I don't know.”
“You're with me, yeah you are, you're with me,” Robby mumbled. “You look very pretty, even covered in blood, you know that?” he mumbled, trying to say it so only you could hear.
There was a huff of a smile followed by pain.
“You can't flirt with me while I'm dying, Robinavitch.”
Your eyes fluttered shut.
Robby grabbed your face, smooching your cheek maybe a bit too harsh. “You're not going anywhere.”
“You've pushed four bags,” you whispered. “You're gonna push a five.”
There was a huff of laugh from Jack.
Robby sniffed. You were too good at your job sometimes, ignoring the ache in his back as he leant over you. “You shouldn't be counting.”
“What can I say I'm over-qualified,” your eyes shut again but your lips moved in mumbles.
“What is it? What are you saying?” he asked, a crack in his voice. “What? Tell me.... tell me.”
But you weren't really there anymore. You were incoherent, eyes not really there. None of you was really there. “Robby.... Rob.... please, Robby.”
“What? I'm here, I'm right here, okay? Okay, honey?” Robby felt his chest cave in. “What's taking this elevator so long?” he snapped.
“It's bad, I know,” you said, fingers drifting soft over his arm before it dropped. “I can't- I can't-”
The doors slid open, a team waited on the other side.
Garcia pushed you ahead into the team, spouting who she wanted to scrub in, telling them all who she wanted out front watching. Your condition was a perfect teaching sort.
You weren't for teaching. You were for saving!
Robby wanted to tell as much as the team wheeled you away and Jack's arm came out to stop him.
“You can't go in there man,” he said.
“Like hell I can't!”
“No, you can't!” said Jack.
Any other time Robby would have argued more but he had nothing to say. He needed to be there, he wanted to be there but as soon as they cut you open he'd break. As soon as he saw inside your body he'd tie himself to you.
He'd seen over a hundred bodies cut open in his time but yours might break him.
Robby nodded, hands going to the back of his head.
Someone in the room cried and it took him a moment to realise it was him.
“Hey-hey-” Jack embraced him and Robby couldn't reach to hug him back but he could let himself down. “I will go in, I will be there, you know I will do everything to save her. We will save her.”
To save your life, Robby let him go and stood alone. He looked down at his hand as if he could feel the ghost hold of you still there. When he looked down, all he saw was the hair on the back and the tremble of his fingers.
Robby- for the first time since he was a boy- learnt how to cry.
He tried- boy did he try- to get back into the swing of things. Robby walked into the Pitt with red, blotchy eyes and a waver in his voice. He looked at the board, picked up a sixty year old patient with migraines.
“Hello I'm Doctor Robinavitch, everyone calls me Robby. What seems to be the problem today?”
That was as far as he got before Dana walked in.
“No, no, no, no!” she said, putting the chart down and dragging him out. “I am so sorry Mrs Klepton, we'll get Doctor Shen with you in just a moment. Come with me.”
He was dragged out like a scolded child and shoved into the lounge.
“What do you think you're doing?” she'd snapped.
Robby had put himself in the corner, crowding himself in, arms over his head. What was he doing? Trying to be useful. You'd be up in the OR lord knew how long. If he sat and waited he'd go mad.
Dana leant on the counter. “What'd you think you're doing here, Robinavitch? Get outta here, go home! Better yet go wait for her.”
“I-I can't.”
“Robby.”
He could feel the tears start again. Didn't the human run out of tears eventually? They didn't teach that in med school. “I- I can't. I'm useful in-in here, I'm not- I'm not-”
“Right now there's only one person you can be useful to, so go to her.”
That's how he ended up in the OR waiting room, alone, not flicking through the magazines provided, not even watching the fish in the tank. He was just sitting.
Waiting.
At some point he'd taken the clock down to not watch the hands turn but eventually the sun rose and he was terrified like no other day.
It was going on 05:00 am when the door slowly pushed open. It wasn't with a rattle of relief or with a cheer, it was a slow push.
Robby thought his heart was broken before.
He was hunched over himself, elbows balanced on his knees as he hid his face in his hands and slowly rocked himself. “No... no... no...”
“Robby,” Jack said quietly. His steps were slow but he felt his hand on his back.
Robby flinched, shrinking into himself.
Where was the knife so he could stab himself?
“Robby- she's okay.”
There was a crack in his neck from how quick he looked up. It wasn't enough to convince him, his clinical trained mind wondering all the what would comes? Had it got into your spine? How much blood had you lost.
But Jack listed it off like he knew what Robby needed to hear first. It hadn't hit an aorta, it got an artery hence the bleeding but they'd stabilised it with more blood than they would have liked. But you were alive, though sleeping and they had no worries for you at the moment.
Robby nodded when Jack finished. He must have come right from the OR to tell him because he was still in scrubs and covered in blood. Your blood. “Can I see her?”
You didn't look peaceful. Robby had never thought how uncomfortable the hospital gowns must have been until he saw you lying in one. There was oxygen tube in your nose and an IV in your hand. There was some bruising he hadn't noticed before on your arms from the fall you took.
“What do I do now?” Robby mumbled. He was good at the saving lives part, he just wasn't sure what to do when they hung in limbo.
Jack patted his back, leading the way in the room. “For a doctor you're pretty clueless. You sit with her.”
Robby followed in, un-sure what to do with himself so he held onto either end of his stethoscope.
There was a chair already pulled up to your side as Jack busied himself on the other, checking your IV and BP- all looked good.
Robby had caught you napping at your desk once, fallen asleep while charting. He'd admired you for a moment before slowly waking you with a pen poked in your head. You'd looked so peaceful then- nothing like it now.
“Is she cold?”
“No- I don't think so.”
Robby slowly sank down in the chair and picked up your hand again. It stopped the trembling in his at once.
“I gotta get off, I'll cover the day, do something about the nights. Stay with her, call me if there's any changes,” said Jack.
“Thank you, brother,” said Robby.
There was a dull drumming in your head. Your back was aching and even moving your eyes hurt. Beyond all of that there was something else, something heavier.
Your eyes opened slowly and you found the lights ahead. They burned brighter than the sun, like every morning when you walked into PCMT. You tried to hide, to shield yourself with your hand but you couldn't move it.
Panic coursed through you. Why couldn't you move it? Why could you hardly feel your hand? Dear god-
“Hey,” a gentle voice greeted and you searched for them.
Jack stood over you, leaning at you bed.
Your mouth was parched as you tried to speak.
“You're okay,” said Jack in a whisper. “You remember what happened?”
Step by step you thought back. You were leaving, only checking on David once more before sharp pain hit you in the back and you were shoved. When you came too again faces blurred together and pain blinded you to them all.
There was Robby. Somewhere in all of that.
“I was... stabbed?”
Jack nodded, a small trembled in his chin. “Yeah you were. But you're gonna be okay, there was no injury to your spine.”
“I'll walk?”
“Twelve hours time we'll get you up.”
When you focused you could feel the ache in your arm as if someone was pulling it. There was something heavy at the end like someone was holding it, tight.
Robby was at your other side, lying on your arm and holding you down. His body was curved over, head turned away as his back moved in soft breaths.
“Thought I'd let him sleep. He's been up watching you since you came out the OR,” said Jack.
Robby. He'd stayed.
Had you asked him to? You'd wanted him to. Maybe he understood that.
“Thank you, Jack.”
Jack shook his head. There was no need to thank him, you knew that, but you were thanking him for the life you'd put in his hands and that he'd let Robby be at your side. “You want some time?”
You nodded stiff, feeling the ache in your back more and more. You knew you had months ahead of you of pain but you didn't want to dull it with drugs just yet.
Jack petted down your hair once before taking his hoodie off the back of the chair and leaving, closing the door gently.
In the silence you watched Robby a moment longer, matching your new breaths with his. The weight of him on your hand made you tingle as you slowly worked your fingertips back to life.
You tried to move your hand out from his weight but he stirred.
Groggily he turned and looked around the room, waking up more confused then you were.
“Robby?”
His eyes widened.
Robby moved up at once, looming over your bed as you tried to push yourself up. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” he fretted, eyes raking over your body like he was checking all of you were there. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
“Robby-” you tried to protest.
“BP is hundred over eighty.”
You tried to entertain him, just as you had with the cut on your head. If you let him go through the motions just might just end up holding his hand again. So you let him try your nerves, let him ask if you were in pain. You let him ask you to wiggle your fingers and toes. You let him lift one leg and the other as high as he could before you winced in pain.
“Can you stop being my doctor for a second and sit back down?”
Robby seemed startled but hid it quickly. He realised Jack was out the room. “He should've woke me, checked you over.”
“You were resting, he said you'd stayed.”
He looked at you, astonished you'd think he'd go anywhere else.
You watched him sink into his chair, clasping his hands together and wedging them between his knees. Your fingers ached to hold him but your body was weak even talking. “You look tired.”
He chuckled low and smiled. His face was pale, eyes red, hair a mess. His entire body was slumped. “I look tired?”
“A nice tired, a handsome tired.”
You focused on your hand, lifting it enough. You watched as Robby looked down and took it without hesitation, he held it tight, grasping it between his big hands and bringing it to his lips.
You felt him kiss your palm.
“I was stabbed?”
Robby nodded, slowly. “Two puncture wounds, missed the spinal chords, nicked an aorta, bled out. That was our biggest worry but-”
“But I'm okay now?”
Slowly, he nodded.
You groaned, shifting your head aside. You'd have rolled over to show your protest but you had a feeling you'd be putting as little pressure on your back for a while. “Is Mr Brown?”
“The police are looking for him,” said Robby, without letting you even work out just what it is you were trying to ask about.
You nodded slowly, looking down to where your hand disappeared in his. “I'll report him this time, I promise.”
Robby stared at you, eyes wide with something you couldn't name. “I just want you to focus on getting better. On coming back... coming back to me.”
You didn't think, even coming out of an op and the haze of pain, that you could ever be where he wasn't. You think, no matter how terrible it seemed, that it was meant to happen this way. The stabbing and scarring that would no doubt end up on your back might have been the best thing to ever happen to you.
“Robby,” you whispered.
He must have heard something in your voice as he slowly stood and hunched over you, a hand lying on the top of your head.
His eyes were watering with tears.
You could remember faint images of this happening before, as you were slowly lulled to sleep by drugs. His hand combing back your hair felt like it had always been doing it. Like you'd always woken to him.
“Did you kiss me?” You didn't know where the memory came from, or even if it was a memory. It could've been a dream.
To his credit Robby didn't startle or flinch. He slowly nodded, leaving room for objection. He leaned over close to you, another hand cradling your cheek. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Robby inhaled sharply. “I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you months before I did. I wanted to kiss you last week and two minutes ago when you woke. I wanted to kiss you covered in blood and... I want to kiss you now.”
You smiled and it brought you no pain. “If my back wasn't in pain I'd be kissing you right now,” you chuckled and then the pain came.
Robby leant down to you, his eyes searching yours. Close enough you could see what was in his eyes, what he'd been hiding. Warmth. Admiration.
His large nose brushed yours as he kissed you slow with no rush of need. His hand was soft as he angled you so he could explore every line and curve if your lip.
Your own hand slowly wound up, around his head, stroking the back of his hair and resting there. He didn't mind the oxygen tube or that she couldn't reach up to meet him. In fact he kissed her like he'd planned it like this a hundred times.
When there was an alarming beep from the machines Robby pulled away quick, studdying them.
“It's just my heartrate,” you said. “Might have been beating a little faster there.”
He agreed but seemed solemn to do so.
You watched the crease between his brows appear again. “You know, if I knew I just needed to be stabbed to have you kiss me again I'd have-”
“Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”
For the sake of his nerves, you didn't.
“You know if I'd have known that it was just gonna take me getting stabbed for you to sell that motorbike, I'd have got stabbed a lot sooner,” you said teasingly as Robby pulled into his new designated parking space outside the ED.
It had been a month since the incident but you were still reaping the small benefits that came with it. Like Robby insisting you stay with him to get the best care, like him getting rid of his motorbike to get a better car that was more comfortable on your back.
Like having so much time with him.
Mornings where he dedicated time in messaging the sore spots of your back and spreading an oil that was going to help the scaring. Like the dinner times when you read him a recipe that he never followed to the t. Like the kisses you stole in the night when he'd watch you and kiss you without straining to go forward.
Robby parked the car and turned off the engine. “If I had a dollar every time you said that,” he grumbled, picking up his bag and exiting.
You were still moving slower, still kept a crutch with you to keep weight off your back. You were coming back to work with a much lighter work load and you were sure Robby would be glued to your side all day like he practically had the month you'd took to recover.
Even before you could open the door Robby was there doing it for you, your own bag in his hand.
“You think anyone's gonna want to see the cool scars I've got, they kind of look like stars,” you said as Robby stayed close by your side, walking in with you.
“You sent them all pictures,” he said, mildly irritated. You and everyone around you seemed to try to crack jokes about the thing. He felt sometimes he was the only one who saw the near death wound for what it was.
“Excuse me- most of them asked for pictures.”
“Completely inappropriate.”
A few ambulance workers saw you, greeting you with smiles you returned while Robby waited next to you, holding up a polite hand in greeting.
It dropped, grazed yours and picked it up, holding on as the two of you walked in.
Usually Robby liked to walk in through triage, get a feel of what was happening but he wasn't risking that many foreign bodies next to you even though they caught David Brown and he was being charged.
Robby had something to live for, had something to protect. Nothing was happening to it. To you.
“It's good to have you back,” said Lupe as the two of you passed her at the door.
“Do you think that was a pun?” you uttered to him, rewarded with the smallest tint of his lips as he pushed open the door.
Loud clapping greeted you with some cheap, paper, party poppers when you walked in. Thee was cheering to and a large banner was hooked up, saying 'welcome home!'.
A place that could have held such terrible memories was brightened up as you jumped from one smiling face, to another.
Next to you, Robby stepped back, blending into the admiring crowd and started to clap too with something more than fondness in his smile. Love. A word that had woven its way into your vocab since moving in with him to get help for your wounds.
A word that summed up so much of what you had.
“You did this for me?” you asked.
“It was all Robby's idea,” said Jack, leading the cheering.
You didn't have to even move. Like he knew what you wanted Robby stepped over to you and kissed you. He always kept his lips irritatingly light, encouraging you to stretch out muscles in your back to join meet him.
You grinned against his lips. “I should be stabbed more often.”
jack abbot sandwiching you between him and the bed. lips smushed into your jaw while he groans and clutches you. cock is stuffed nicely inside you, he’s all leaky and veins pulsing against your walls, blowing a rough breath out of his nose at the messy you’ve creamed out around him.
he just. he can’t think.
not with you under him and baran at his backside, her lube-soaked strap-on stretching his hole with loud squelches. easing between where you’re reaching to spread his cheeks apart.
“agh, fffuck,” jack chokes. baran smiles a little to herself because you were one-hundred percent right. abbot sounds like a whole different person if he’s got someone deep enough in his ass. his voice goes and small and breathless and broken, the man unsure if he wants to tense or melt as he takes it. “i-iii’m close. close. you’re t-to fucking warm ‘n wet—fucking christ. and you, can feel you in my fuckin’ guts...”
baran hums, squaring her hips to thrust herself a little deeper. her measured stare drips across you and jack as she observes the build of his back. your chin settles just above his shoulder, your mouth parting to gasp when baran pushes forward again, causing the three of you to jolt together.
“thought you’d last a little longer than this. i’m just getting started.”
baran’s pairs her words with blanketing herself on top of jack, mushing her tits against his bare skin. the move finally pushes her all the way inside him, and a loud groan rips from his chest. baran’s hand squeezes jack's shoulder before slipping her palm to your face, holding it against your cheek just as she starts a soft, skin-smacking pound.
a wink from her has your lips curling with a drunken smile. "c-can feel when you find his spot... he, like–shit. his cock just kinda jumps inside me."
baran lets out her own little huff at your slurred words. the second dildo of her strap-on isn't as girthy as what's packed inside jack at the moment, but it's still big enough to snatch some of the air from her lungs.
the stars in her eyes while you gaze back at her isn't helping much. nor do the cries spill out of jack, noises that grow louder and louder as his neck beads with a salty sweat.
by the time he reaches his peak, jack can't talk. he just trembles and sobs your and baran's name into your skin. his hand reaching back to feel whatever part of baran he can find in this whirl of pumping his balls empty inside you.
baran keeps rolling her hips with a purposeful grind, sliding her thumb inside your mouth for you to moan around while jack's tip kisses impossibly deep inside you.
"has he got you nice and full yet, sweetheart?"
all you can do is bob your head at baran's panting question. jack is no better, clenching around the fake cock in his ass with deep whines. completely lost and drooling against your skin.
"guess you should return the favor, hm?"
she doesn't wait for you to respond. just uses jack, helping fuck his still-hard cock inside you until you shudder and splash with a couple of tiny squirts.
"there ya go." those are the first words out of jack, and still, they sound like a mess of nothing. he doesn't even know who he's talking to. all he can be certain of is that your gush was enough to soak his sack, and that his entire body is swimming in bliss. "y'keep goin', and i'm might blow again, b."
covered in a light sheen of sweat, baran humps herself into the feeling of the silicone inside her, crashing herself into jack who's got a hand squeezing at your chest.
baran's orgasm switches her thrusts from pointed to sloppy, her pussy pulsing with hot thrums as she buries her face. kneading her entire self to smush against you and jack in order to keep chasing the high. jack fucks himself back and forth with what little power he has left, milking himself by way of your strong clench around him.
slowly, the movements come to a stop. with breaths long lost and bodies drenched in sweat, you're halfway to sleep by the time baran slides out of jack to roll onto her side and next to you, unlatching the strap to throw it. jack has to pull out even slower, humming sleepily at the large dollops of cum that seep from your hole.
jack can just barely wiggle to the opposite side of you, watching with hooded eyes when baran tucks herself against you. it takes the man a few slooow blinks to catch up, pressing a messy kiss into both your mouths just in time for a final collapse.
you breathe out. “shower?”
jack’s already close to snoring. baran mumbles for him.
Warning: This fic contains one silver-haired ER doctor having a full-blown existential crisis in a mall after being called “oldie,” one wife ready to throw hands over anyone making her husband feel less lovable, and one tiny daughter who sees absolutely nothing except “my papa.” Expect emotional insecurity hidden behind tired smiles, soft domestic comfort, grocery shopping with zero budget limits, mirror scene vulnerability, forehead touches, sleepy midnight cuddles, and a five-year-old accidentally healing generational male insecurity with one sentence.
Michael’s off days always carried a different kind of atmosphere inside the house.
Softer. Slower.
Not because he suddenly stopped being a doctor the second he clocked out of the hospital because honestly, you didn’t think that part of him would ever fully turn off but because on days like this, he tried so hard to belong entirely to you and Aria.
And you noticed it in the little things first.
Like how he stayed in bed longer that morning instead of immediately reaching for his phone. How he lazily pulled you closer against his chest when you tried getting up too early. How he buried his face into your shoulder and muttered a sleepy, “Five more minutes,” in that rough morning voice that always weakened your knees a little.
Then there was Aria.
The second she climbed into bed between both of you, Michael’s entire attention shifted immediately.
“Papa,” she announced very seriously while sitting on his stomach. “Mama says your ponytail skill is ugly.”
You burst out laughing instantly from beside them.
Michael looked deeply offended.
“Excuse me?”
“You make me look like broccoli yesterday.”
“You did look like broccoli,” you added helpfully.
Michael narrowed his eyes at both of you.
“I’m being bullied in my own home.”
Aria giggled loudly when Michael grabbed her dramatically and buried his face into her tummy until her squeals echoed across the bedroom.
The morning continued like that afterward; warm, messy, domestic.
Michael making breakfast while wearing sweatpants low on his hips and glasses sliding slightly down his nose because he refused to put contacts in on his days off. Aria sitting on the kitchen counter kicking her legs while demanding pancake shapes that made absolutely no sense.
“I want bunny pancake!”
“You had bunny yesterday,” Michael pointed out while flipping another pancake.
“Okay… dinosaur bunny pancake.”
You snorted into your coffee.
Michael looked at her silently for a moment before sighing like the burden of fatherhood was simply too heavy.
“…I’ll see what I can do.”
And somehow, ridiculously, he actually tried.
The pancake looked horrifying.
Aria thought it was beautiful.
After breakfast, the three of you got ready to head out to the mall. Nothing extravagant. Just errands. Groceries. Things for the house. A few things Aria needed for preschool. Some skincare you’d casually mentioned running out of three weeks ago that Michael somehow remembered better than you did.
Unfortunately for you, Michael’s off days also triggered another problem.
His spending habits.
More specifically
His inability to say no to you and Aria.
“Michael,” you sighed while watching him casually toss another dress into the cart for Aria. “She does not need this.”
“She likes strawberries,” he replied simply, like that explained everything.
“It has strawberries on it,” Aria defended immediately from inside the cart.
“She already has clothes with strawberries.”
“But not this strawberry.”
Michael nodded once. “Exactly.”
You stared at both of them with betrayal.
“This family enables each other.”
Neither of them even looked guilty.
If anything, Michael looked amused.
And honestly? Watching him like this always did something dangerous to your heart.
The way he walked beside the cart while absentmindedly rubbing Aria’s hair every time he passed her. The way his large hand settled automatically on your lower back whenever crowds got thicker. The way he kept reaching for your hand for absolutely no reason other than he liked touching you.
Even while grocery shopping.
At one point, you stopped to compare prices between two products.
Michael glanced once.
Then immediately grabbed the more expensive one.
You frowned. “Michael.”
“What?”
“This one is cheaper.”
“You like the other one more.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
Then he leaned closer slightly, voice lower near your ear.
“I work hard so my girls don’t have to stare at price tags.”
Your face warmed instantly.
“Stop saying things like that.”
“Why?” he smirked faintly. “It works every time.”
Unfortunately, the mood shifted later.
Subtle enough that Aria didn’t notice.
But you did.
The three of you had just walked out of another store when someone suddenly called his name.
“Michael?”
Michael turned first, confusion briefly crossing his face before recognition replaced it.
“…Daniel?”
The man laughed immediately and walked forward, pulling Michael into a quick one-armed hug.
“Holy shit, man. Look at you.”
You stood quietly beside Michael while they caught up, and it was strangely nice watching this older version of him interact with someone from a completely different chapter of his life.
College stories.
Old professors.
Complaints about work schedules.
The exhaustion of getting older.
At one point Daniel looked toward you and Aria.
“And this is your family?”
Michael’s expression changed immediately.
Softened.
His hand rested instinctively on Aria’s head, fingers sliding through her hair carefully.
“My daughter,” he said first, his voice gentler without realizing it. “Aria.”
Daniel blinked. “You have a whole kid now?”
“A very spoiled one,” Michael corrected.
“I heard that!” Aria protested immediately.
Daniel laughed loudly at that.
Then his attention shifted to you.
“And your wife?”
For a second, Michael looked at you.
And there it was again.
That look.
That impossibly soft look that still made your stomach flip even after all this time.
“My wife,” he repeated simply.
Not your name.
Not an introduction.
Just my wife.
Like that title alone already carried too much pride.
Everything stayed warm after that.
Easy.
Until Daniel checked the time and sighed.
“Damn, I gotta go.”
“Yeah, us too.”
They exchanged another quick hug before pulling apart.
Then Daniel grinned teasingly.
“Bye, oldie.”
Michael rolled his eyes instantly. “Fuck off.”
“I’m kidding!” Daniel laughed loudly, already walking backward away from your family. “Take care, old man!”
Michael shook his head with a quiet snort.
But afterward…
Something changed.
Not obviously.
Not enough for anyone else to catch immediately.
But you knew him too well.
At first it was just the silence.
Michael became quieter while walking beside you.
Still present physically but mentally somewhere else.
Aria would show him things excitedly, and he’d react a second too late.
“…Papa, look! Bluey bag!”
Michael blinked like he’d been pulled back into the moment.
“Hm? Oh. Yeah, baby. Cute.”
But his smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.
Later, while you were waiting for coffee, you caught him staring at his reflection in the dark window of the café.
Not casually.
Not absentmindedly.
Really looking.
At his face.
At the gray in his beard.
At the lines around his eyes.
At the tiredness sitting heavier on him lately.
And suddenly Daniel’s joking “oldie” comment replayed itself loudly in your own head too.
Oh.
The realization settled heavily in your chest after that.
Throughout dinner, Michael stayed attentive enough not to worry Aria, but you noticed every little thing now.
The way he touched his beard more often.
The way his eyes lingered on younger couples walking by.
The way he smiled automatically at your jokes but seemed distracted immediately afterward.
And Michael had always been like this sometimes.
Quietly insecure.
Especially about his age.
Especially with you.
By the time you got home and finished putting Aria to bed, the feeling in your chest had turned into full worry.
You changed into your pajamas quietly afterward before heading into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
That’s when you saw him.
Michael stood shirtless in front of the sink wearing only his briefs, one hand gripping the edge of the counter while the other slowly moved over his beard.
The bathroom light was unforgivingly bright.
It highlighted every silver strand threaded through the darker beard he used to complain about trimming. The faint wrinkles near his eyes. The exhaustion etched into his features after years of stress, sleepless nights, responsibility.
His stomach wasn’t as firm as it used to be years ago either.
And the saddest part?
The way he looked at himself.
Not with vanity.
Not even frustration.
Just… quiet disappointment.
Like he was mourning a version of himself he thought he was supposed to stay.
You didn’t speak immediately.
Instead, you walked slowly toward him until you stood right behind him.
Then gently, carefully, you wrapped both arms around his waist and rested your cheek against the warmth of his back.
Michael startled slightly before relaxing once he realized it was you.
For several long seconds, neither of you spoke.
You simply stood there together in front of the mirror.
Looking at him.
Looking at the man you loved.
The man who still made Aria laugh until she snorted milk through her nose.
The man who still reached for your hand in his sleep.
The man who stayed awake through fevers, nightmares, sickness, breakdowns, exhaustion without ever making you feel alone.
“You’re thinking too much again,” you murmured softly.
Michael let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“…Am I wrong?”
Your brows furrowed immediately.
“About what?”
He looked at himself again.
“I’m getting older.”
The way he said it hurt your heart.
Not because it was true.
But because he sounded afraid of it.
You tightened your arms around him slightly.
“So am I.”
“It’s different.”
“No,” you whispered gently. “It isn’t.”
Michael laughed softly then, but there was no humor in it.
“You don’t see what I see.”
“Then tell me.”
His jaw shifted slightly.
“The gray hair. The wrinkles. The stomach.” His voice lowered more. “I don’t look like I used to.”
You stayed quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.
“Michael… do you know what I see when I look at you?”
His eyes flickered toward yours in the mirror but he didn’t answer.
“I see the man who held me after labor when I cried because I thought I wasn’t doing enough for Aria.” Your voice stayed soft and steady. “I see the father who slept sitting upright in a hospital chair because our daughter wouldn’t stop crying unless she was on his chest.”
His throat moved slightly.
“I see the husband who still buys my favorite snacks even when I forget mentioning them.” You pressed another kiss lightly against his shoulder blade. “The man who works himself to exhaustion just to make sure the people he loves are safe.”
Michael lowered his eyes quietly.
“And every gray hair?” you whispered. “Every wrinkle? It just means you stayed. It means you lived. It means Aria got more years with her papa.”
Silence filled the bathroom afterward.
Heavy.
Emotional.
Michael’s breathing slowed slightly beneath your arms.
Then finally, quietly
“You really still look at me the same?”
Your chest ached instantly.
You moved around him then, standing directly in front of him before reaching up and holding his face gently between your hands.
“Michael,” you said softly, firmly. “I have never once looked at you and wished you were younger.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“I look at you and thank God you exist.”
Something fragile flickered across his face then.
Vulnerability.
Relief.
Love.
He leaned forward slowly until his forehead rested against yours, his hands finally settling around your waist tightly.
And when he hugged you afterward, it felt desperate in the smallest quiet way.
Like he needed to be reminded he was still loved exactly as he was.
Later that night, the bedroom stayed dark and peaceful.
You slept curled against Michael’s chest, one leg tangled with his while his arm stayed wrapped securely around your waist beneath the blanket.
Even half asleep, he still held you close instinctively.
Then sometime in the middle of the night
The bedroom door creaked open softly.
Tiny footsteps shuffled across the floor.
Michael stirred first, eyes barely opening before immediately softening.
Aria.
Still sleepy.
Still holding her bunny plushie by one ear.
Her hair was a complete mess, cheeks warm from sleep, eyes barely even open properly as she climbed onto the bed clumsily.
Without a word, she crawled directly toward Michael.
Half onto him, honestly.
One tiny leg over his stomach while she snuggled against his side like she belonged nowhere else.
Which she didn’t.
Michael let out the quietest sleepy laugh.
“Hey, baby…”
Aria rubbed her face against his chest tiredly before whispering in the softest little voice imaginable,
“I love you, Papa.”
Michael’s entire expression softened instantly.
Then Aria added sleepily,
“You’re my papa.”
Not complicated.
Not poetic.
Just certain.
Absolute.
Like in her little world, there was nobody better to belong to.
Michael swallowed hard before wrapping his arm tighter around her automatically, pulling her close while keeping you tucked safely against his other side too.
Three people tangled together under warm blankets.
And in the darkness, with his daughter asleep against him and you breathing softly on his chest
Michael stopped seeing gray hair.
Stopped seeing wrinkles.
Stopped seeing age.
Because all he could feel was love.
Please do not copy my work. If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate your support by liking and reblogging instead of reposting or copying. Thank you for respecting my writing and giving proper credit. 🤍 xoxo, offthepitt.
Request - not officially a request but l've just been thinking about finally getting comfy enough in your relationship with Robby to sneak self care rituals into his routines...starting small with upgrading his sleep habits and getting a good moisturizer for his ultra-dry-from-constant-sanitizing hands...then slowly working up to you massaging his hands, getting him a heating pad for his back, maybe even convincing him that those baths you take are nice and calming and he should try it too?? knowing you can't jump in too quickly because he won't be on board, but even if he won't admit it, he likes it
The first time you realized Robby was sleeping on a crime against humanity disguised as a pillow, you were halfway through making his bed while he showered after a particularly ugly shift.
You stopped. Stared. Picked it up. Then immediately dropped it again.
“What the hell is this?”
Robby’s voice drifted from the bathroom. “What?”
You held the pillow up like evidence in a criminal investigation.
“This.”
A pause.
“My pillow.”
“You call this a pillow?”
“It is a pillow.”
“It has the structural integrity of a tortilla.”
The shower shut off. A few moments later Robby appeared in the doorway with a towel slung around his neck, damp hair sticking up in every direction. He looked exhausted. Beautiful. And entirely too pleased with himself.
“You have strong feelings about my pillow.”
“Robby.”
“It works.”
“It is flat.”
“It supports my head.”
“It is literally folded in half permanently.”
He shrugged.
“It knows my neck.”
You stared at him. He stared back. Then he smiled. That tiny smile he only gave you. The one that made arguing significantly more difficult. Unfortunately for him, not impossible.
Two days later a new pillow appeared on his bed. One that actually resembled a pillow. He walked into his bedroom after work, stopped short, and immediately knew who was responsible.
“No.”
You looked up from the book in your lap.
“No what?”
“No.”
“Excellent communication skills.”
“I’m not using that.”
“You haven’t even touched it.”
“I know what it is.”
“You know it’s a pillow.”
“I know it’s replacing my pillow.”
“Your pillow belongs in a museum.”
“My pillow is fine.”
“You have chronic neck pain.”
“I work in an emergency department.”
“You sleep on drywall.”
Robby pointed at you.
“You are not winning this.”
You smiled sweetly.
“You say that now.”
Three weeks later you arrived at his apartment after work and found him changing the sheets. The old pillow was nowhere in sight. Instead, the replacement sat squarely in the center of the bed.
You raised an eyebrow. Robby froze. You smiled. His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re about to do.”
“Looks like somebody likes his pillow.”
“I tolerate it.”
“You love it.”
“I tolerate it aggressively.”
You laughed so hard you nearly fell over. Robby grabbed your waist before you could. His hands settled on your hips. His forehead dropped against yours. And though he was pretending to be annoyed, you caught the faintest hint of a smile. A smile that grew when you whispered,
“Told you.”
“You’re unbearable.”
“And yet.”
“And yet.”
His hands squeezed your hips.
“You keep showing up.”
The pillow stayed. Neither of you mentioned it again. Except for the fact that several months later when Robby spent the night at your apartment, he showed up carrying it. Like it was completely normal. Like you wouldn’t notice. Like you wouldn’t immediately burst out laughing. You loved him so much.
******
The Hand Cream
You noticed Robby’s hands long before he did. Not because he was oblivious. Because he simply did not care. There was a difference.
The man spent twelve hours a day washing, sanitizing, gloving, scrubbing, and repeating the process until most normal people’s skin would have surrendered entirely. By the end of a shift his knuckles were dry enough to crack, the skin along the backs of his hands rough and irritated from constant exposure to sanitizer.
When you first brought it up, he looked down at his hands. Then looked back up at you.
“They’re hands.”
“That’s your medical opinion?”
“They function.”
You stared. He stared back. Then took another bite of takeout. Conversation apparently over. You waited. You knew better than to push.
Robby was a lot like a stray cat someone had accidentally put through medical school. Move too quickly and he’d bolt. So instead you filed the information away. And waited.
The opportunity came two weeks later. You were sprawled across his couch with your legs draped over his lap while he finished charting. His laptop balanced precariously on one knee. Reading glasses perched on his nose. One hand moving across the keyboard. The other absentmindedly resting against your calf.
You watched him rub his thumb over one knuckle. Then wince. Just slightly. Barely noticeable. But noticeable. You reached over and grabbed his hand.
“What?”
You turned it over. The skin around his knuckles had split. Tiny angry cracks. Red. Tender. Painful.
You looked up. Robby immediately looked guilty. Which told you everything.
“You knew.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“It happens.”
“Robby.”
He sighed. The sigh of a man who knew he was losing.
“It’s winter.”
“You work indoors.”
“The sanitizer.”
“There it is.”
His shoulders slumped. You smiled.
“Aha.”
“I don’t like that face.”
“You should.”
“I really don’t.”
The next day you showed up carrying a small paper bag. Robby saw it and immediately looked suspicious. Which honestly should have offended you.
“What’s that?”
“A gift.”
“No.”
You laughed.
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know it’s trouble.”
You sat beside him and pulled out a bottle of hand cream. The look he gave you could only be described as betrayed.
“Absolutely not.”
You nearly choked.
“Absolutely not?”
“No.”
“It’s moisturizer.”
“It’s lotion.”
“Correct.”
“I don’t use lotion.”
“You should.”
“I’m not starting now.”
You held up the bottle. Robby looked at it like it contained live explosives. Then looked at you. Then back at the bottle.
“No.”
You set it on his coffee table.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You aren’t arguing.”
“You already know my position.”
“You have a position on lotion.”
“I have a position on your hands splitting open.”
“They’re fine.”
You leaned forward and kissed one cracked knuckle. Robby froze. Completely froze. Every muscle in his body locking up. You kissed another. Then another. The tension in his expression melted almost immediately.
“You fight dirty.”
You smiled.
“I know.”
The lotion remained untouched on the coffee table for nearly a week. Or so he claimed. Then one night you arrived at his apartment after a late shift. Robby was asleep on the couch. Television still on. Reading glasses crooked. Blanket half fallen onto the floor. And beside him sat the bottle.
Cap off. You smiled. Carefully lifted one of his hands. The skin already looked better. Not perfect. Better.
The stubborn man had clearly been using it. Regularly. Probably in secret. Because heaven forbid anyone know he participated in self-preservation.
You were still smiling when Robby’s eyes cracked open. His voice rough with sleep.
“What are you doing?”
“Holding your hand.”
“Why?”
“Checking something.”
His eyes dropped to where you were examining his knuckles. Then immediately away. Like he’d been caught. You bit back a laugh.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’ve been using it.”
“No.”
“Robby.”
A pause. Then another.
“A little.”
Your grin widened.
“A little?”
“It was there.”
“It was there.”
“My hands hurt.”
The admission came so quietly you almost missed it. Your smile softened instantly. Because that was really the thing about Robby. He wasn’t stubborn because he thought he was invincible. He was stubborn because somewhere along the way he’d convinced himself discomfort wasn’t worth mentioning. That taking care of himself wasn’t important enough to bother with.
You squeezed his hand. The one that already felt softer. Healthier. Warmer. And watched his eyes drift closed again. Half asleep. Half gone. Still holding your hand. Still letting you hold his. And before he fully drifted off, you heard him mumble something into the couch cushion.
“What was that?”
One eye opened. A look of resignation crossing his face.
“The lotion works.”
You laughed so hard he groaned. And pulled you down onto the couch beside him. As if that would somehow stop you from being unbearably pleased with yourself.
******
The Water Bottle
The problem with dating Robby was that he was simultaneously one of the smartest people you had ever met and one of the dumbest when it came to his own body. Not patients. Never patients. Robby could spot dehydration, exhaustion, stress, and burnout in another human being from twenty feet away.
Himself? Hopeless.
You discovered this one Tuesday afternoon when you stopped by the emergency department during a slower stretch and found him standing at the physician station with a coffee in one hand and another coffee sitting beside him. You stared. Then stared harder. Robby noticed. Immediately regretted noticing.
“What.”
You pointed.
“Is that your second coffee?”
“No.”
You looked at the coffee. Then looked back at him. Then looked at the coffee again.
“It’s not my second coffee.”
“Okay.”
“It’s my third.”
You closed your eyes. Behind you, you heard somebody choke. Probably Collins. Maybe Javadi. Definitely somebody enjoying this entirely too much.
When you opened your eyes again, Robby was watching you cautiously. Like a man observing an approaching storm.
“How much water have you had today?”
“No.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is an answer.”
“It isn’t.”
“It answered the question.”
“It absolutely did not.”
Robby sighed. Long. Suffering. Dramatic. The sigh of a man burdened by unreasonable expectations.
“You are exhausting.”
“You’ve had three coffees.”
“They’re small.”
“They’re not.”
“They feel small.”
You pointed at him.
“That sentence alone should disqualify you from making medical decisions.”
The residents immediately disappeared. Cowards. All of them. Leaving Robby to fend for himself. Which was exactly where you wanted him.
That evening, you arrived at his apartment carrying a box. Robby saw it. Groaned. Actually groaned.
“What now?”
“Present.”
“No.”
You laughed.
“Why are you like this?”
“Because every time you say that, my life changes.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“The pillow.”
“Improved your life.”
“The lotion.”
“Improved your life.”
“The fancy tea.”
“You sleep better.”
His expression darkened. Which was confirmation. You shoved the box into his chest. He opened it reluctantly. Then frowned.
“A water bottle?”
“It keeps drinks cold.”
“I have cups.”
“You have forgotten cups.”
“I know where my cups are.”
“You left one in your car for six days.”
Robby looked offended.
“You don’t know that.”
“I found it.”
“…”
“It had become sentient.”
His head dropped back against the couch. You laughed so hard you nearly cried. For several weeks the bottle became a recurring battle. Every morning you filled it. Every evening you checked it. Every evening Robby claimed he had been drinking water. Every evening the evidence suggested otherwise.
One night you held the bottle up. Still nearly full.
“Explain.”
“I was busy.”
“You forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“You forgot.”
“I remembered it existed.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It counts.”
“No.”
“It should.”
“No.”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“You want dinner?”
“Nice try.”
“It usually works.”
You narrowed your eyes. The bastard smiled. Because it usually did work. Months passed. The arguments continued. The bottle became a permanent fixture. On his desk. In his car. At the hospital. By his bed. Everywhere.
Until eventually you stopped mentioning it. Not because you gave up. Because you noticed something. One particularly awful night you got called in unexpectedly. The emergency department was overflowing. Everyone looked tired. Everyone looked stressed. And in the middle of the chaos sat Robby.
Hair a mess. Sleeves rolled up. Charting furiously. You approached quietly. Planning to steal a kiss. Maybe convince him to take a break. Instead you stopped.
Because without even looking up from his computer, Robby reached for something. Unscrewed a lid. And took a long drink. Water. Not coffee. Not energy drinks.
Water.
You smiled. He looked up immediately. Caught. The bottle halfway to his mouth. Your eyes met. Robby froze. Then visibly realized what had happened.
“Oh don’t.”
You couldn’t help it. The grin spread anyway.
“Don’t what?”
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The look.”
“The one where I’m right?”
“The incredibly annoying one.”
You laughed. Robby pointed the water bottle at you. Threateningly. Or at least as threateningly as someone could point a giant insulated floral-colored water bottle you had specifically chosen because it annoyed him.
“You are impossible.”
“And hydrated.”
He groaned. Actually groaned. Then took another drink. Just to spite you. Which unfortunately only proved your point. And later that night, after the shift finally ended and the department quieted down, you found him sitting alone at the station. Exhausted. Spent. Running on fumes.
His water bottle beside him. Nearly empty. You slid into the chair next to him. His shoulder immediately bumped yours.
“You okay?”
Robby nodded. Then reached for your hand beneath the desk. Holding it tightly. The way he did when he was tired enough to stop pretending he didn’t need things. You squeezed back. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. Slowly. Thoughtfully. Then he glanced at the bottle. And muttered something so quietly you almost missed it.
“What?”
His eyes closed briefly. Like he hated himself for what came next.
“I think I get fewer headaches.”
You stared. Robby stared at the desk. Clearly hoping death might arrive before this conversation continued. Your heart nearly burst. Because there it was.
The thing underneath all the arguing. The thing underneath all the teasing. Trust.
Not in the bottle. Not in the water. In you. And as much as Robby would complain about every change you brought into his life, he kept accepting them for one simple reason. You had never once tried to change who he was.
You just wanted him around long enough to enjoy being him. His fingers tightened around yours.
“You don’t get to be smug.”
Too late. You were already smiling.
******
The Heating Pad
You discovered Robby’s back pain entirely by accident. Not because he told you. Of course he didn’t tell you. Robby could be actively falling apart and still insist he was “fine.” No, you discovered it because one Saturday morning you woke up in his apartment before he did.
Which was rare. The man was usually awake before sunrise, operating on some bizarre internal clock developed through decades of emergency medicine and poor life choices.
But this morning he was still asleep. Face buried in his pillow. One arm thrown across your waist. Breathing slow and even. You smiled. Then you felt it.
The way he shifted in his sleep. The tiny grimace that crossed his face. The way his hand instinctively moved toward his lower back. Even unconscious. Even asleep. Something hurt.
You filed that information away immediately. And waited. Because experience had taught you that confronting Robby directly was rarely effective. You needed evidence. Unfortunately for him, evidence arrived that very afternoon.
You were both grocery shopping. A perfectly normal activity. Until Robby bent down to grab something from a lower shelf. Then froze. Only for a second. Most people would have missed it. You didn’t. His jaw tightened. One hand immediately pressed against his lower back.
Then he straightened. And pretended nothing happened. You stared. Robby stared at the cereal boxes. Neither of you spoke.
“How long?”
His eyes closed.
“How long what?”
“The back pain.”
“I don’t have back pain.”
You laughed. Actually laughed. A nearby shopper looked alarmed. Reasonable.
“You literally just winced.”
“No I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You touched your back.”
“I was stretching.”
“You made a face.”
“I have a face.”
“Oh my God.”
Robby immediately started pushing the cart away. Coward. You caught up beside him.
“Robby.”
“It’s fine.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The phrase.”
“What phrase?”
“The one that means something is absolutely not fine.”
He sighed. Then kept walking. Which was all the confirmation you needed.
Three days later a package arrived at his apartment. Robby called you immediately.
“No.”
You grinned.
“What?”
“I know this was you.”
“What was me?”
“The heating pad.”
“Oh.”
“The heating pad.”
“You got it.”
“You bought me a heating pad.”
You leaned back on your couch. Completely unrepentant.
“I did.”
“I’m not eighty.”
“No.”
“I’m not using a heating pad.”
“Okay.”
His silence immediately told you he’d expected more resistance. Interesting. Very interesting.
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You aren’t arguing?”
“Nope.”
Another pause.
“Why not?”
You smiled. Because now he was curious.
“Use it.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Then don’t.”
The call ended. You gave it forty-eight hours. The heating pad survived twenty-six.
You arrived at his apartment after work and let yourself in. The television was on.nThe lamp beside the couch glowed softly.nThe apartment was quiet.nSuspiciously quiet.nThen you rounded the corner.nAnd nearly burst out laughing.
There sat Robby. Fast asleep.nHead tilted back. Reading glasses halfway down his nose.nHeating pad stretched across his lower back.nThe remote dangling loosely from one hand.
You actually had to bite your lip. Because if he woke up and caught you laughing, he’d never forgive you. You carefully sat beside him. Trying not to wake him.
Unfortunately, Robby possessed the survival instincts of a feral animal. His eyes opened immediately.nThen narrowed.
“Oh no.”
You smiled.
“Oh yes.”
“No.”
“You’re using it.”
He glanced down. Realized exactly what he looked like. And immediately looked annoyed.
“It’s temporary.”
“Mhm.”
“My back hurt.”
“Mhm.”
“I was trying it.”
“Mhm.”
His eyes narrowed further.
“You are insufferable.”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“The word you’re looking for is right.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is.”
The heating pad remained. Of course it did. Just like the pillow. Just like the lotion. Just like every other thing he’d initially rejected with great enthusiasm.
Soon it became part of the routine. Something he would never admit. But something you noticed anyway. Especially after difficult shifts. The bad ones. The ones that left him exhausted. The ones where he came home carrying too much.
One particularly brutal night you found him standing in the kitchen staring blankly at the counter. Still wearing his scrubs. Still wearing his badge. Barely moving. Your heart squeezed immediately.
“You okay?”
Robby nodded. Too quickly. Which meant no. You crossed the room. Wrapped your arms around his waist. Rested your cheek against his chest. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then you felt him exhale. The kind of exhale that came from somewhere deep. The kind people only gave when they felt safe. Your hands rubbed gently along his back.
“You don’t have to talk.”
Another breath. Another moment.
“It was rough.”
You nodded.
“I know.”
Neither of you moved. Neither of you needed to. A few minutes later you disappeared into the living room. Returned carrying something. Robby immediately rolled his eyes.
“No.”
You laughed.
“Come sit down.”
“I don’t need—”
“Robby.”
That did it. The tone. The one he secretly liked. The one that meant someone was taking care of him whether he wanted it or not. Grumbling under his breath, he sat.
You plugged in the heating pad. Draped it carefully across his back. Then settled beside him. Your hand finding his automatically. For several minutes neither of you spoke. The apartment quiet around you. The television forgotten. The day slowly draining away. Eventually Robby’s shoulders relaxed. Then relaxed again. The tension easing little by little. Until his head finally tipped sideways onto your shoulder.
You smiled softly. Because there it was. The real victory. Not getting him to use the heating pad. Not proving yourself right. Not winning.nIt was watching someone who spent his life carrying everyone else finally allow a little of the weight to be carried for him.
Even if it came wrapped in fabric and plugged into a wall. And after another few minutes of silence, you felt his fingers tighten around yours.
“Thank you.”
The words were so quiet you almost missed them. But they were there. And somehow that tiny whisper meant more than every argument that had come before it.
******
The Hand Massage
The first time Robby let you massage his hands, it happened entirely by accident. At least that was what he would claim later. You knew better. Because by then you had learned something important about Robby. If he truly didn’t want something, it didn’t happen. There was no convincing him.
No sweet-talking him. No negotiating. The man possessed the stubbornness of a mountain. Which meant every little allowance he gave you was exactly that. An allowance. A choice. A quiet act of trust.
The evening started innocently enough. Chinese takeout. A movie neither of you were actually watching. Robby stretched out across your couch while you sat tucked against his side beneath a blanket.
Domestic in a way that still occasionally caught both of you off guard. The honeymoon phase had long since settled into something deeper. Something steadier. The kind of love that lived in grocery lists and spare toothbrushes and knowing exactly how someone took their coffee.
You were halfway through stealing dumplings from his plate when you noticed him flexing one hand. Then the other. Slowly. Repeatedly. The movement immediately caught your attention.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes remained on the television.
“Nothing.”
“You are absolutely doing something.”
A sigh.
“My hands hurt.”
The admission came casually. Like it wasn’t important. Like it wasn’t worth mentioning. Which meant it probably had been bothering him for days. You sat up slightly.
“Let me see.”
“They’re fine.”
“Robby.”
“They’re attached.”
“Robby.”
“They function.”
You held out your hand. The universal signal. After a moment of dramatic suffering, he finally surrendered one of his hands.
You turned it over carefully. The skin looked much better these days. The lotion had helped. The cracks were mostly gone. But the muscles looked tight. Tired. Overworked.
Which made sense. Thousands of procedures. Thousands of charts. Thousands of tiny repetitive movements. Year after year after year.
Without a word, you placed his hand in your lap. Then started pressing your thumbs gently into his palm. Robby immediately looked up. Suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
“Massaging your hand.”
“No.”
You smiled.
“There it is.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even given it a chance.”
“I don’t need a hand massage.”
“You literally just said your hands hurt.”
“They’re tired.”
“Exactly.”
“They’ll recover.”
“Or.”
“No.”
“Or.”
“No.”
You continued anyway. Because by now you knew the difference between a real no and a Robby no. A Robby no was usually followed by him staying exactly where he was.
Which was precisely what happened. You worked quietly. Pressing into the muscles of his palm. Working your thumb along the base of his fingers. Massaging the tension you could actually feel sitting there.
At first he watched suspiciously. Then cautiously. Then not at all. Because somewhere around minute three, his shoulders started relaxing. Minute five, his head tipped back against the couch. Minute seven, his eyes closed.
You bit the inside of your cheek. Trying very hard not to smile. The man looked downright offended by relaxation. Which only made it funnier. When you switched to the other hand, he didn’t even argue. Just automatically handed it over. Eyes still closed. Trusting you. Your chest tightened. Because this felt different.
Smaller than some of the other things. But somehow more intimate. There was no joke. No teasing. No distraction. Just your hands holding his. Taking care of him. For no reason other than wanting to.
Eventually you felt his fingers twitch. Then relax again. His voice came quietly. Eyes still closed.
“That feels nice.”
You froze. Robby’s eyes immediately opened. Realization hitting him instantly. The mistake. The confession. The evidence. His expression shifted to horror. Yours shifted to delight.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You admitted it.”
“Don’t.”
“You admitted it felt nice.”
“It slipped out.”
You laughed so hard tears formed. Robby groaned. Then grabbed your wrist. Pulling you across the couch and into his lap. Mostly to stop your laughing. Possibly to punish you. Definitely to kiss you.
His mouth found yours immediately. You smiled against his lips. Which only made him grumble.
“I mean it.”
“You mean what?”
“You are never bringing this up again.”
You kissed him once.
“Okay.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You are lying.”
You kissed him again.
“Probably.”
He sighed. Then wrapped both arms around your waist. Pulling you closer. Holding you there. The movie forgotten entirely. The takeout growing cold. Neither of you caring.
After a while his chin settled on your shoulder. Your fingers absentmindedly threading through his hair. The apartment quiet around you. And just before drifting toward sleep, Robby’s voice appeared again. Soft enough that you almost didn’t hear it.
“You know.”
“Hm?”
His arms tightened slightly.
“My hands really did feel better.”
You smiled into his shoulder. Because there it was again. Not surrender. Not defeat.
Trust.
The kind that only appeared when the lights were low and the world was quiet. The kind that said I know you’ll be gentle with the parts of me that hurt. And for Robby, that might have been the most intimate thing of all.
******
The Bath
The bath conversation started exactly how you expected it would. In fact, it started with Robby standing in your bathroom doorway looking genuinely concerned about your life choices.
You were buried beneath a mountain of bubbles. A book rested in your hands. A candle flickered on the counter. Soft music drifted through the apartment. The entire scene looked like the physical embodiment of relaxation. Robby looked at it like he’d discovered a cult meeting.
“What are you doing?”
You looked up from your book.
“Taking a bath.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
He crossed his arms.
“You’ve been in there for forty-five minutes.”
You blinked.
“Have you been timing me?”
“No.”
“Robby.”
A pause.
“Maybe.”
You laughed. The man looked genuinely baffled. Like he could not comprehend voluntarily sitting in water for an extended period of time.
“Don’t you get bored?”
“No.”
“How?”
You held up your book.
“I’m reading.”
“You could read on the couch.”
“I could.”
“You could read in bed.”
“I could.”
“You could read literally anywhere else.”
You smiled.
“I like baths.”
Robby shook his head. Still unconvinced.
“You sit in hot water.”
“Yes.”
“For fun.”
“Yes.”
His expression suggested he was witnessing civilization collapse in real time. You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your book.
For the next several weeks, the subject became recurring entertainment. Every time you took a bath, Robby had questions. Questions that somehow always sounded accusatory.
“You’re taking another one?”
“Yes.”
“You took one three days ago.”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“You already took one.”
“It’s not a vaccine.”
The look on his face nearly killed you.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I genuinely don’t.”
Then came the worst shift of the month. The kind that seemed determined to squeeze every ounce of energy from a person. You knew it had been bad the moment Robby walked through your front door.
His shoulders sagged. His eyes looked tired. Not sleepy. Tired. The deeper kind. The kind that settled into your bones. He barely made it through saying hello before collapsing onto your couch. You sat beside him immediately. One hand brushing through his hair.
“Rough?”
He nodded. You waited. He didn’t elaborate. You didn’t ask. After a few minutes you stood. Robby glanced up.
“Where are you going?”
“Bathroom.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later he heard running water. Then more running water. Then suspicious silence. A few moments later he appeared in the doorway. And immediately frowned.
“What are you doing?”
You smiled. The bathtub behind you was full. Steam curled through the room.
“You know exactly what I’m doing.”
“No.”
“Yes you do.”
“No.”
“Robby.”
His eyes narrowed. Then widened. Then narrowed again. Absolutely horrified.
“No.”
You laughed.
“Oh come on.”
“No.”
“It’ll help.”
“No.”
“You’ve had a terrible day.”
“I don’t need a bath.”
“You’ve never tried one.”
“I know enough.”
“You really don’t.”
He pointed dramatically at the tub.
“People sit where they wash.”
You stared. Then laughed so hard you had to lean against the counter. Robby looked deeply offended.
“That’s a valid concern.”
“It absolutely is not.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
“It could be.”
You couldn’t breathe. The man was impossible. Eventually he retreated. Victorious. Or so he thought.
The next week brought another difficult shift. And another. And another. Until one evening you found him sitting at your kitchen table rubbing both hands over his face. Exhausted. Worn thin. Barely functioning.
You approached quietly. Placed a mug of tea beside him. Then kissed the top of his head.
“Bath.”
“No.”
“Bath.”
“No.”
“Bath.”
Robby sighed dramatically. Then looked up at you. Too tired to argue properly. Which was your opening.
“Twenty minutes.”
“No.”
“Ten.”
“No.”
“Five.”
His eyes closed. You could practically see the internal battle happening.
“Five.”
You immediately pointed.
“Aha.”
His eyes opened. Realization hit. Too late. The agreement had been made. The trap had closed.
“You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
“I question it regularly.”
You kissed his forehead.
“You absolutely do not.”
Twenty minutes later you found him in the bathroom. Still in the bathtub. Still soaking. Still alive despite his earlier concerns. You leaned against the doorway quietly. Watching. Robby’s head rested against the edge. Eyes closed. Shoulders relaxed.
The tension that usually lived between them noticeably reduced. For once he looked peaceful. Not physician peaceful. Not pretending peaceful. Actually peaceful. You smiled softly.
“Five minutes?”
His eyes opened. Then immediately narrowed.
“You said you weren’t keeping track.”
“You’ve been in there twenty minutes.”
A pause.
“The water’s still warm.”
You nearly burst into laughter.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“The excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“It absolutely is.”
Robby looked away. And for a moment he actually looked embarrassed. Which was somehow adorable. You crossed the room. Knelt beside the tub. Brushed damp hair away from his forehead.
His eyes softened immediately. The way they always did with you.
“You okay?”
For a moment he simply looked at you. The exhaustion. The affection. The trust.nEverything sitting quietly in his expression. Then he nodded.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“I kind of get it.”
Your smile grew.
“Kind of?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
You laughed. Robby reached out immediately. Water dripping from his hand.nCatching your wrist before you could pull away.nThen bringing your knuckles to his lips. A quiet kiss.nThe kind people only gave when they felt completely safe. And as ridiculous as it was, as much as you’d tease him forever about becoming a bath person, that wasn’t the moment that stuck with you.
It was the fact that for the first time since you’d met him, Robby wasn’t trying to recover from a hard day by simply enduring it. He was actually allowing himself comfort. Allowing himself rest. Allowing himself care. Even if he’d complain about it tomorrow. Even if he’d deny enjoying it. Even if he’d swear the entire thing was a one-time occurrence. Because the next week, when you arrived at his apartment unexpectedly and found a brand-new bottle of bath soak sitting beside his bathtub…
Well. That was evidence enough.
*******
The Night Routine
The realization hit Robby on a random Thursday night. Which was fitting. Because most of the important things in life seemed to happen to him when he wasn’t paying attention. The two of you had been together long enough now that routines existed. Not consciously. Not intentionally. They had simply formed. Like roots growing underground. And somewhere along the way, you had apparently infiltrated every single one of his.
The discovery happened after a particularly long shift. Nothing catastrophic. Nothing dramatic. Just twelve straight hours of emergency medicine. Twelve hours of people needing things from him. Twelve hours of making decisions. Twelve hours of carrying responsibility. The kind of day that left him feeling stretched thin.
Robby walked into his apartment. Dropped his keys into the bowl by the door. Kicked off his shoes. Then immediately froze. Because without thinking, he’d started doing things. One after another.
His hand reached for the water bottle sitting beside the sink. He finished half of it before even realizing what he was doing. Then he refilled it. Set it beside the coffee maker for the morning.
Robby stared at it. Suspicious. Then walked into the bedroom. Changed clothes. Reached for the heating pad. Plugged it in. Placed it on the couch.
Automatic. Again.
His eyes narrowed. Something was happening here. Something concerning. Something deeply suspicious.
Twenty minutes later you arrived carrying takeout. The moment you opened the door, you found him sitting on the couch staring into space. Heating pad across his back. Water bottle beside him. Looking like a man experiencing an existential crisis. You immediately started laughing.
“What?”
Robby pointed at himself.
“I have concerns.”
“Oh no.”
“I think you’ve done something to me.”
You dropped onto the couch beside him.
“This should be good.”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
“I refilled the water bottle.”
“Wonderful.”
“I didn’t even think about it.”
“Oh no.”
“The heating pad was already plugged in before I realized I grabbed it.”
You covered your mouth. Trying and failing to hide your smile. Robby looked genuinely disturbed.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You’ve altered my behavior.”
You laughed. Hard. The kind that made tears form. The kind that made Robby look even more offended.
“I am serious.”
“You sound like you’ve been brainwashed.”
“I have.”
“You bought lotion voluntarily last week.”
His expression immediately darkened.
“Don’t.”
“You did.”
“I was out.”
“You bought more.”
“I needed more.”
You collapsed against his shoulder. Absolutely losing the battle.
“This is incredible.”
Robby groaned. Then pointed at you. As if pointing somehow strengthened his argument.
“You are not taking this seriously.”
“Because it’s ridiculous.”
“It isn’t ridiculous.”
“It kind of is.”
His eyes narrowed. Then he crossed his arms. The posture immediately reminded you of a stubborn toddler. Which unfortunately made you laugh even harder. Robby looked personally betrayed.
“I used bath salts.”
You stopped. Then looked at him.
“What?”
His expression suggested he’d just confessed to a felony.
“I used bath salts.”
Your jaw dropped.
“You bought bath salts.”
A pause.
“They were on sale.”
You lost it. The laughter echoed through the apartment. Robby closed his eyes. Clearly regretting every decision that had led him here.
Eventually you managed to compose yourself enough to wipe tears from your eyes. Then you leaned over. Rested your chin on his shoulder. And smiled.
“You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think you like being taken care of.”
The words settled between you. Robby didn’t answer immediately. The joking disappeared. The teasing faded. His eyes dropped toward his hands. You waited, watching him. Because sometimes the most important things with Robby happened in the silence.
Your heart squeezed. Because there it was. The thing underneath all of it. The reason this mattered. The reason every pillow and heating pad and bottle of lotion had become something bigger.
You reached for his hand immediately. Threading your fingers through his. Robby squeezed back. Looking at your joined hands. Not at you. As if the honesty was easier that way.
“My exes used to tell me to slow down.”
You listened quietly.
“Friends have told me.”
Another pause.
“My family…what’s left of them…has told me.”
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
“But you’re the first person who actually noticed when I didn’t.”
The emotion hit you unexpectedly. Because that was exactly it. You hadn’t set out to fix him. You couldn’t. Nobody could. Robby would always be Robby.
Stubborn. Self-sacrificing. Terrible at asking for help. Beautifully, frustratingly himself.
You just noticed things. The headaches. The exhaustion. The sore back. The cracked hands. The moments he needed someone. Even when he didn’t know how to say it.
You leaned forward and kissed his temple. Then rested your forehead against his.
“Well.”
His eyes finally met yours. So full of affection it nearly hurt.
“Well what?”
You smiled.
“I noticed.”
For a moment neither of you moved. The apartment quiet around you. The television forgotten. The food growing cold. Neither of you caring.
Then Robby looked around his living room. At the water bottle. The heating pad. The lotion on the side table. The throw blanket you’d bought because his old one felt like sandpaper. The tea in his cabinet. The better pillows. The bath salts. All the tiny pieces of you scattered throughout his life. And a slow smile appeared. A small one. Only for you.
“You know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
His fingers tightened around yours. That smile growing just a little.
“I can’t tell where my habits end and you begin anymore.”
Your heart absolutely melted.nAnd judging by the way Robby immediately pulled you into his lap before you could get emotional about it…
He knew exactly what he’d done.
******
The Payoff
The thing about taking care of Robby was that eventually it stopped feeling like taking care of him. It just became loving him. The routines no longer felt deliberate. They simply existed. A thousand tiny things woven into the fabric of your lives together.
The water bottle. The lotion. The heating pad. The tea. The baths. The better sleep habits. The pillows. The blankets.
All those little acts of care that had started as gentle nudges had somehow become part of the architecture of his life. And because of that, the moment that finally broke your heart happened on an entirely ordinary night. A terrible shift. But ordinary. The kind that left everyone exhausted. You had your own shift that day and didn’t get to see him until almost midnight.
By the time you unlocked the door to his apartment, the place was dark. Quiet. You frowned. Normally there would at least be a lamp on. The television. Something. Instead there was only silence. For a brief moment concern flared.
Then you stepped farther inside. And immediately stopped. Because there he was. Curled up on the couch. Asleep. The heating pad stretched across his lower back. The blanket you’d bought draped over his legs. The water bottle sitting on the coffee table. Half empty. Hand cream beside it. A mug of tea abandoned nearby.
The lamp casting a warm golden glow across the room. You stared. Your chest tightening unexpectedly. Because every single one of those things had once been an argument. Every single one. And now he reached for them without thinking. Not because you’d forced him. Because he’d learned they helped. Because somewhere along the way he’d decided he deserved comfort.
You stood there for a long moment just looking at him. At the man you loved. The man who spent every day pouring himself into everyone around him. The man who still occasionally forgot he was worthy of the same kindness he offered strangers.
Then quietly, you crossed the room. Robby woke almost immediately. Of course he did. Years in emergency medicine had turned him into the lightest sleeper on Earth.
His eyes opened. Found you. And instantly softened.
“There you are.”
The words came rough with sleep. Your heart melted immediately.
“Hi.”
He reached for you automatically. Still half asleep. Still waking up. Still wanting you close. You smiled and slipped onto the couch beside him.
The moment you did, his arm wrapped around your waist. Pulling you against his side. Like he’d been waiting for it. Like he’d been missing a piece.
You settled against his chest. Listening to the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. His chin resting on top of your head. Neither of you speaking for several moments. Neither of you needing to. Finally you glanced around. At all the evidence surrounding him. Your smile grew. Robby immediately noticed.
“No.”
You laughed.
“Oh yes.”
“No.”
“You used all of them.”
His groan vibrated through his chest.
“I was tired.”
“You used every single thing.”
“It was a bad day.”
“Every single thing.”
Robby buried his face against your hair. Apparently hoping he could hide from this conversation. You found this adorable.
“I mean look at you.”
“Don’t.”
“You practically created a self-care checklist.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“You absolutely do not.”
His fingers pinched your side. You yelped. Then laughed. Then cuddled closer. The warmth between you settling into something comfortable.
After a while the teasing faded. The room growing quieter. You felt Robby’s hand sliding lazily up and down your back. The absent-minded touch of someone who loved having you near. Eventually his voice broke the silence.
“Today sucked.”
The honesty surprised you. Not because he never talked. Because he usually filtered things first. Protected people from the weight of them. Including you.
Tonight he sounded too tired for that. You turned slightly. Looking up at him. His eyes looked exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that lived deeper than sleep. You brushed your fingers along his jaw.
“What happened?”
Robby sighed. Then told you. Not everything. But enough. The difficult patient. The loss. The family. The impossible choices. The endless pressure.
You listened quietly. Your hand never leaving his face. Never interrupting. Never trying to fix it. Just listening.
When he finished, the room fell silent again. His forehead dropped against yours. Eyes closing. You could feel how tired he was. How worn down. How much he carried.
“I hate days like that.”
“I know.”
A pause. Then another.
“You know what was weird?”
“What?”
His eyes opened. Looking directly at you.
“I got home.”
You waited.
“And without even thinking about it…” A faint smile appeared. “I started doing all the stuff.”
You laughed softly.
“The stuff?”
“The stuff.”
“Very specific.”
“You know what I mean.”
You did. Of course you did. The little routines. The tiny acts of care. The things he’d once resisted. The things he’d once rolled his eyes at. The things he’d once insisted were unnecessary. His thumb brushed across your cheek.
Then his expression softened. Until there was nothing guarded left. Nothing hidden. Just Robby. Just the man you loved.
“You know what the worst part is?”
You smiled.
“I thought we already covered the worst part.”
“No.”
His hand cupped your face.
“I have a new one.”
“Oh?”
He studied you for a moment. Like he was trying to memorize something. Like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. Then he smiled.
That rare smile. The one that belonged only to you.
“The worst part is now I miss you when you’re not there to nag me about it.”
You laughed. A genuine laugh. Bright and happy. Robby’s eyes immediately lit up at the sound. Like they always did.
“I do not nag.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I lovingly encourage.”
“You nag.”
“I encourage.”
“You nag.”
You leaned forward and kissed him. Ending the argument. The way you usually did. His hand slid into your hair immediately. Holding you there. Not demanding. Not urgent. Just wanting. Just savoring.
When you finally pulled back, he followed. Forehead against yours. Nose brushing yours. His eyes never leaving yours. And for a moment the entire world seemed to disappear.
No hospital. No stress. No responsibilities. Just this.
Just you. Just him.
Then his voice came quietly. So quietly you almost missed it.
“Nobody’s ever taken care of me before.”
The words hit harder than anything else he’d said all night. Because he wasn’t talking about the lotion. Or the pillow. Or the heating pad.
He was talking about being seen. About someone paying attention. About someone noticing when he was hurting before he had to say it out loud. Your throat tightened. You reached up. Brushed your hand through his hair.
“Well.”
His eyes closed briefly beneath your touch. The smallest smile appearing.
“Well what?”
You leaned forward. Kissed his forehead. Then his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth.
“I plan on doing it for a very long time.”
For a moment he simply looked at you. The emotion in his eyes almost overwhelming. Then he pulled you into his lap. Wrapped both arms around you. And held you there.
Like something he’d never willingly let go. The heating pad eventually shut itself off. The tea went cold. The apartment grew quiet. But neither of you moved. Because sometimes love wasn’t grand gestures. Sometimes it was a stubborn emergency physician finally letting himself be cared for. And the woman who loved him choosing, every single day, to keep showing up and doing exactly that.
Summary: You’re in the last year of your PhD program at Carnegie Mellon, conducting research at PTMC. You don’t have time to be distracted, certainly not by a handsome orthopedic surgeon with an attitude problem.
WC: 2,708
A/N: set seven years before The Pitt (Park is mid-30s); fem reader; possible medical/probable computer science inaccuracies (contrary to what your local Karen thinks, Google is not a replacement for an actual degree); you can’t tell me Park is OOC because man was on the screen for half a second; mild d/s undertones if you squint and look upside down; Abbot cameo because I’m weak for that old man
—————————————————
The first time you meet Brendon Park, you’re sitting on the floor of a supply closet with your laptop on your knees, a screwdriver between your teeth, and your head half-buried behind an open control-panel. There’s papers scattered next to you and a granola bar discarded by your feet. When the closet door opens, you jump like a startled raccoon caught raiding a trash bin.
“What the fuck?”
The man in the doorway freezes when he sees you, and you scramble to take the screwdriver out of your mouth and offer a timid smile.
“Um…hi?”
He does not smile back.
In fact, the man who just walked into your temporary work space doesn’t look like he smiles much at all. His startlingly blue eyes glint like ice as he stares you down, and his perfect Cupid’s bow is curled by the start of a sneer. His dark hair is gelled back from the harsh lines of his face, and his tall form is corded with muscles his scrubs do nothing to hide. Everything about him screams precision and control, and he looks at your poorly contained chaos the way other people look at particularly ugly bugs.
“What are you doing?”
His voice is low, sharp. The voice of someone used to being obeyed. You feel heat stain your cheeks.
“I’m uh, there wasn’t-, I didn’t want to-”
His arctic eyes narrow, and you wince.
“The room I was assigned to got double-booked,” you manage, pleased with yourself for getting out a complete sentence this time.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re squatting in here.”
“It has an Ethernet port?”
He holds your gaze for another moment before dropping his eyes to the visitor badge clipped to your shirt. It says your name, followed by “Carnegie Mellon University” and then “IT Consultant.” A little bit of the suspicion leaves his expression when he realizes you’re at least allowed to be in the hospital, if not this particular closet.
“You work for CMU?”
“Kind of? I’m in my last year of grad school.”
He says nothing, and you hurriedly continue.
“I’m in computer science. My dissertation deals with healthcare systems, and PTMC is a teaching hospital-, which you already know, sorry, and they work a lot with CMU. Which, you probably also already know sorry, but I’m working on my model here, and the room I was supposed to be in got double-booked, but I already told you that so sor-”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry,” you blurt instinctively.
He levels you with a deeply unimpressed look, which is why you’re shocked when he asks you-
“What’s your dissertation title?”
“Oh, uh, it’s-, well it deals with healthcare systems and how to improve them-”
“I’m not a computer engineer, but I’m also not a fucking idiot. Give me the real title.”
“I’m s-”
He arches one dark eyebrow. It’s arrogant, almost condescending, but it makes your pulse do something embarrassing.
“-not sorry,”you amend. “My working title right now is: Hybrid Model-Predictive and Machine Learning Approaches for Adaptive Patient Flow Control.”
He’s silent for a moment, gaze calculating.
“How does your model account for unique versus overlapping variation caused by the nonlinear rotation of personnel on care teams?”
This time it’s your turn to stare. Most people kind of short-circuit when you start explaining what it is you actually study. This man not only clearly understands what you’re talking about, but he just asked you a surprisingly perceptive question. He must sense your surprise, because he snorts and says:
“I told you I’m not a fucking idiot.”
He’s still staring at you like you’re a bug under a microscope, but the rigid line of his back has relaxed a bit, and he no longer looks like he might bodily drag you out of the supply closet. In fact, you think he might even look…amused. Your heart gives another embarrassing stutter, and you hurry to answer his question.
You don’t know how long the two of you stay like that — him taking up the entire doorway with his broad shoulders, and you sitting on the floor with your screwdriver and notes and granola bar. All you know is that he’s listening, really listening, while you ramble on and on about your project. He nods when appropriate, asks astute questions, and then seems to genuinely care about the answer. When your long-winded speech finally peters out, he cocks his head.
On anyone else, the movement would convey curiosity, maybe deep thought. On him though, it looks like a predator considering prey. The thought should not make heat curl in your belly, but it does.
“Do you want an actual desk to work at?” he finally asks.
You blink twice.
“I don’t need one, I’m okay staying here-”
“That’s not what I asked.”
That tone again. The one that makes it clear he’s used to being in charge and expects obedience. It makes something in you sit up straighter.
“An actual desk would be nice,” you admit.
He nods once, as if in approval.
“Good.”
Your brain blue screens for a second. It was a completely innocent word, spoken in a completely innocent context. At least that’’s what you tell yourself as the part of you that likes his commanding tone decides it really likes when that command is shadowed with a hint of approval. He’s pleased with you that part of you whispers, and you feel your cheeks go nuclear. You’re a grown woman who’s a few months away from completing her doctorate in computer engineering. You should not care if a random, kind of rude, kind of overbearing stranger in a hospital is pleased with you. But you do, and to your absolute horror, he seems to know it, too.
The corner of his mouth crooks up in the smallest, yet somehow smuggest, smirk you’ve ever seen.
“You’re terrible,” you blurt out.
Two things happen at once. First, you physically recoil, appalled by your own words. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but apparently your self-control vanished somewhere along with your dignity. Second, far from being offended, he looks pleased. The ghost of a smirk becomes an actual grin. Granted, it’s a small one, still somewhat mocking and entirely too self-satisfied, but it’s a grin. One that only emphasizes the sharp beauty of his features and makes you blue screen again.
“Come on, closet gremlin. I have somewhere for you to work.”
You shoot him an embarrassed scowl that does nothing but make him roll his eyes at you, and hurry to gather your things. You can feel his gaze on you while you unplug your laptop before shoving everything into your backpack, and the weight of it feels like a physical touch. When you finally stand up, your entire body is thrumming with nervous energy, and you hope he can’t see the way you’re practically vibrating out of your skin.
“Let’s go,” he says and turns to leave.
“Wait! Didn’t you need something?” you ask.
“Nope.”
He leads the way into the brightly lit hallway, and you trail behind like a lost puppy.
“So why’d you come in the closet?”
“Because I heard you talking to yourself from all the way out here.”
“I do not talk to myself.”
“You were either talking to yourself or the wall. You can decide which one is less flattering.”
You stick your tongue out at his back, but you still follow obediently as he wends his way through the seemingly endless maze of hospital corridors. You notice as you walk that he doesn’t so much as offer a nod in greeting to the various people you pass. It’s early on a Monday, barely after six, and the atmosphere is a bit more relaxed than you’ve seen it later in the day. The staff who are already here call greetings to each other, some stopping to catch up about their weekends. Your stranger, however, ignores everyone like they don’t exist. It’s only when you step onto a nearly empty elevator that he finally deigns to acknowledge someone.
“Abbot,” he says to the lone occupant of the car.
“Park.”
The other man nods to your stranger — Park, apparently — before giving you a curious look. He’s older, with silver staining his hair and five o’clock shadow, and the beginning of crows feet bracketing his eyes. He’s handsome though, very handsome, and you flush a bit when he gives you a kind smile and says good morning.
Neither man fills the quiet that follows, and the three of you ride in silence until Abbot gets off in the next floor. Two floors later, and Park is striding out of the elevator with you hurrying behind him to keep pace.
A sign on the wall tells you you’re now in the in the surgical wing. He continues past the reception desk and the charge desk, veers down a hallway labeled “orthopedics,” and then finally stops outside the third door on the left. The name plate beside it reads “Dr. Brendon Park, Orthopedic Surgery.”
“Do not touch anything,” he says once he opens the door.
Inside is a small but fastidiously neat office. The desk has nothing on it except a monitor, phone, and a pencil holder holding exactly three pens. The only decorations on the walls are his framed diplomas, and the filing cabinets lining the far wall gleam like they came straight from the factory. A muted blue accent chair and bookshelf round out the space.
“Sit,” he says, gesturing at the desk.
You shuffle into the room and gingerly perch in his high-backed office chair. From here you can see just how spotless his desk is. The smooth wooden surface is perfectly polished with not a single crumb or water ring in sight. It’s either brand new, or he’s neurotic about keeping it clean. Your money is on the latter.
“When I said don’t touch anything, I didn’t mean the desk,” he says when you just sit there staring.
Your huff of annoyance is promptly ignored. Grumbling under your breath, you set your bag on the floor and pull your laptop out of it with as much dignity as possible. Which is to say absolutely none, as your screwdriver and a rogue pencil fall out of the bag and roll across the floor. You think his eye twitches.
“Am I even allowed to be in here?” you ask while your laptop boots up.
“All the important drawers are locked. I keep the first edition books at my house. Feel free to steal the monitor though, it’s hospital property.”
You scowl.
“You don’t seem to like me very much, so why are you letting me use your office?”
He pauses, considering. He’s leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed, and you fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny when he spends a minute just looking at you. You also fight the urge to stare at the way his scrub sleeves are pulled tight around his biceps. Finally, he says:
“The room you said you were assigned to, I passed it before I passed your closet cave.”
You hiss of indignation.
“They were celebrating Dr. Bell’s birthday in it.”
That shocks you into silence. The person at reception had told you the room was being reassigned last minute to accommodate an important meeting. Which you guess technically wasn’t a lie, since parties were a kind of meeting in the loosest sense, but it feels like a lie. The knowledge that you got booted so someone could have space to store their cupcakes fills you with a mixture of frustration and humiliation.
As a woman in a heavily male-dominated field, you’re used to being overlooked or stepped over, but this is a new low even for you. Part of you knows that they didn’t pick you, specifically, to kick out — they likely just needed a room, and space for the unpaid grad student was considered the least essential. Still, it stings.
“Oh,” you say quietly.
Park, Dr. Park, whatever he wants to be called, nods his head briefly towards your computer.
“You’re smart, ambitious. Your project could do a lot to benefit the hospital, even if the idiots on the second floor don’t realize it yet.”
A pause.
“Let’s be clear though, this is not me being nice. When you patent that program and get rich, I expect a 20% cut.”
Whatever complicated emotions you had are momentarily shoved aside by a reluctant laugh.
“Aren’t you already rich?” you ask, gesturing widely to encompass him, the office, and whatever being a surgeon at a major hospital entails.
He shrugs.
“Yes.”
He pushes off the bookshelf then and crosses the small space to stand next to you. The sudden proximity makes your breath catch, but you quickly realize he’s not interested in you. In fact, he completely ignores you in favor of opening the top drawer of the desk and pulling out a notepad. He grabs one of his three identical pens and scribbles something down for you, a phone number you realize.
“I have rounds this morning,” he says. “Do not call me.”
He then proceeds to hand you the paper with the number you’re not supposed to call before putting everything away.
“Do not touch anything, do not move anything, do not-”
“What, breathe on anything?”
Just like earlier, your snappy comment seems to entertain him greatly. He actually huffs a ghost of a laugh. Then slowly, so slowly you know he’s giving you time to move if you want to, he spins the office chair until you’re facing him. He leans even further towards you, placing his hands on either armrest so you’re trapped between him and the back of the chair.
If you thought your brain had malfunctioned in the closet, it has now officially combusted. His eyes are somehow bluer up close, he smells like a devastating mix of bergamot and vetiver, and the velvet darkness of his voice feels like a physical caress. Arousal hits you hot and fast, and you can’t help the way your thighs press together instinctively. He notes the motion with a slow, lazy smile, and you’re pretty sure you stop breathing.
“You,” he drawls. “Are awfully mouthy for someone who’s receiving a favor.”
You do your best to ignore the heat licking through your veins and glower back.
“You are awfully rude for someone whose job is supposed to be helping people.”
His gaze drops to your mouth.
“I think you like me rude,” he murmurs.
Time feels suspended for a second.
He’s brusque, supercilious. He’s kind of an asshole. But he listened to you ramble about your machine learning model and actually seemed interested. He gave you a place to work. Your brain is too overwhelmed by his proximity to sift through the dichotomy, and your body is too turned on to care. For one fleeting second, you think he might kiss you. You think you might let him.
Then the moment is shattered by the sound of his pager going off. He stays in place for one more tense breath, caging you in place, before straightening and taking a step back. The heated intensity immediately vanishes from his face, and the same perfect coldness from when you first met him takes its place. You, on the other hand, can do nothing but stare at him with uneven breathing, wet panties, and cotton candy for brains.
“I’ll be back after rounds,” he says, either unaware of your inability to function or choosing to ignore it. “I doubt anyone will bother you, but if they do, tell them Park said to fuck off.”
That startles a laugh out of you. His face doesn’t change, but you think the sound pleases him. He heads to the door, grabs his stethoscope from the hook next to it, and pauses just before stepping out. He looks back at you. You’re searching for something to say to him, maybe thank you, when be beats you to it.
“Bye, closet gremlin,” he smirks, then leaves before you can respond.
You stare after him for a moment, blinking slowly.
Then you knock over his cup of pens and settle in to work.
Long Story Short, It Was A Bad Time @marebearjo - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
