Hi everyone, I'm Andie! Thank you so much to everyone who has read/showed loved to my writing; it truly means the world to me. Below are links to all the fics Iâve written. My requests are currently: open, so please feel free to send me your thoughts/ideas. I'm currently writing for: The Pitt (specifically Robby and Jack).
I hope you enjoy đ
The Pitt
Michael Robinavitch:
Monkey Bars and Hospital Beds
Based on Experience
Cause everybody's watching him, but I'm lookin' at you
Summary: Robby wanted a lot in this life, but most of all he wanted you. A sweet young nurse who was more than half his age. There was no limit to what he would do to make you his.
CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, fem!reader, pervy robby gets his own tag, unhealthy obsession, some dubcon elements, Oral (m/f), Unprotected PIV, hyperspermia!robby, manipulation, slight breeding kink, possessive robby, and some use of pussy pronouns
Note: the Pervy robby worm was eaten away at my brain and I have been sitting and writing this for a while so part two is posted at the same time and I will link them! @robinavitchslut has waited so patiently listening to me bounce every idea off of her, so special shoutout! Also make sure to check out her page!
Working at the PTMC ED was not an easy job, it was filled with stress and worry and dangers that a sweet young nurse like you shouldnât be subjected to. Or at least that's what Robby thought when it came to you. And he thought a lot about you, more than he should if he was honest. Robby knew he shouldnât, but he just couldnât help himself. He couldnât stop thinking about how you shouldnât be subjecting yourself to the horrors of this job. That you should have someone who protected you and took care of you.Â
Robby wanted to be that person. He wanted to be the one that you went to when you needed help, but he didnât want to scare you. He was your boss for goodness sake, but he couldnât help how he made sure to keep an eye on you, always lingering in the distance in case you needed anything. However, his proximity meant that he couldn't help if he overheard you talking with Dana, Samira and Cassie about your personal life. He couldnât help but stay and make sure that you were okay. And if he happened to overhear how youâve never had sex before and admit that you wanted him, well he couldnât be blamed for his actions afterwards.Â
âSeriously? But youâre so young and gorgeousâ Cassie remarked in surprise.
âAnd you are literally the nicest person ever, anyone would be lucky to have you, let alone himâ Samira added. Â
âOh stop,â you let out a nervous laugh at their compliments, âI donât know, just never have, plus I donât think Robby would waste his time on someone like meâ
âAnd he shouldnâtâ Danaâs harsh tone cut through the giggles of you both, âYouâre one of my best nurses and you donât need to be with an old man like him sweetheart, too much baggageâ
It wasn't a secret that you held a torch for him, always watching him for a second too long or how you hung onto every word he spoke. He could tell you were infatuated, he could also tell that you were shy when it came to flirtations. Robby had always chalked it up to you being young and your overall personality. But now he knew the truth, he knew you werenât just young, you had also never been touched before.Â
That small tidbit of information had Robby locking himself in the bathroom and promptly wrapping a hand around his already achingly hard and leaking cock. Jerking himself off to the idea of your untouched cunt being stretched over his thick length. The image conjured in his mind had him cumming hard and fast into the bathroom sink.
Robby really shouldnât be thinking of you like this, you were more than half his age, hell he just attended your 26th birthday outing with everyone at your insistence. You had begged him saying how he never comes to these get togethers and that him coming out could be your present. Of course he caved as you stuck that pouty little bottom lip out. He could never truly say no to you; he just liked to make you beg.Â
And he was grateful that you had because when he got to the bar and saw what you were wearing, he was sure he was about to combust. Your hair was down instead of its usual up-do for work, and your little black dress was so short and tight that if you bent over in a certain way he was able to catch a peek at your red lacey underwear. He was especially grateful when all of the seats at the table were taken when you made your way back from the bar with two more shots in your hand, and the only place to sit was his lap.Â
Hours later and many more drinks you were all but falling asleep on his chest rocking your hips unknowingly across his growing bulge almost as if you were attempting to soothe yourself. If Robby was a better man, he would have stopped it. He would have stood you up and offered you the seat to yourself, but he wasnât a better man. Even less so when you mumbled into his ear a soft âfeels sâgoodâ followed by âneed you mikeyâ. Never in your time of working with him had you called him Mikey or any other version of his first name, it was always Robby just like everyone else.Â
But here you were practically begging for him by name to take care of you, and he really couldnât say no to you. So he allowed you to continue your movements with small praises and encouragement from him âthat's it sweetheart, just like thatâ or âbeing such a good girl fâmeâ until a soft whine leapt from your throat. He could feel the clenching and fluttering of your cunt through his jeans. And if when he went home later that night slid off his pants and inhaled the deep musky scent and small wet patch you left behind while fucking his fist, well that was his buisness.Â
You had been too far gone to realize what you were doing or what you were saying, nor did you remember it the next day. But Robby remembered, he remembered how much you needed him to take charge. And he was going to make sure you were always going to need him, that anything you wanted could only be satisfied by him, that he was the only one you sought out for such things. Because no one was going to satisfy you like he could. No one would care for you like he already has, a worse man would have taken advantage of you for his own pleasure but not him. He let you take what you needed with no expectation of repayment, mostly because that would come later. He just needed you to come to him first, wait for that perfect moment to strike.
____________________________________
A little over a week has passed since your birthday. Over a week of trying to have faith in your vibrator that you secretly named Robby, but alas no luck. Every time you would get right at the edge; cunt fluttering, cord pulled tight in your lower stomach, and then nothing. You have tried every video that seemed to fit your preference (usually ones with older men), erotic audios (that sounded like Robby), and just plain old imagination (of Robby). Absolutely nothing was working and it had begun to make you lose your cool after being unintentionally edged by none other than yourself for a long time.Â
It was getting to the point that you feared there may be something wrong with you. Which is how you found yourself at work talking to Dana and Mckay, they always seemed like they would have all the answers. Making them the perfect pair to ask if they knew what may be happening. Except they weren't the only ones you were spilling this to, because as always Robby managed to be somewhere close around when it came to you. So once again he found himself privy to a conversation that definitely wasnât for him.
âUhm I had a question I wanted to ask you two, do you- do you guys everâ you took a deep grounding breath before spilling your thoughts, âeverhaveahardtimegettingoff?â
Chuckles erupted from the two women as they took a moment to decipher what you had just mumbled. And once they did, both of them turned their full attention towards you for the clearly very personal problem youâre having.Â
âWell when I first started Zoloft I didâ Cassie nodded with eyes that looked like they were remembering the time, âIt took a while for me to really find a want or ability to, finish if you willâ
âYeah but Iâm not on any SSRIâsâ and God help Robby, you genuinely whined and stomped your foot when you spoke.
âTake a breath there big girlâ Dana laughed at your display of annoyance, "What's been going on is it like lack of want or just plain inability?âÂ
âItâs definitely not lack of want. But itâs just ever since my birthday Iâve had a hard time like finishing I guessâ hands run down your face in embarrassment, youâve never had this problem before and didnât know how to talk about it, âI always get really close and I can feel it but then it just goes away like im missing something.
Your little confession had Robby basking in how the stars were aligning just for him, because he knew exactly why your sweet little cunt wouldnât respond. After just one orgasm on top of his jean-covered cock she would only respond to him, only wanting him. You already needed him and he hadnât even truly done anything to you. He had to play it safe, take it little by little to see just how much he already affected you.
So Robby started out small, every time you had gone looking for a doctor to give report to or if you needed medications revised he made sure that he was always the one who answered and filled out the scripts. Or vice versa whenever he needed a nurse he called for you followed by a slight âah ah ahâ if you were walking past him. But if he was feeling really risky he used two taps to your hip just light enough to have you second guessing his intentions. But it was always followed with instructions or requests, meaning you had to give him your full attention afterwards instead of focusing on his behavior. And to his surprise it only took half a shift before he saw you begin to respond to his behaviors.Â
Instead of asking for any available doctors you began just asking for Dr. Robby. And if someone told you he wasnât available followed by a âanything I can do?â you would kindly say âno thatâs okayâ, because you were just going to wait for Robby. He knows what you need.
And when a trauma was called in all he had to do was tap your hip twice when he was nearby or if you were passing him by a slight âah ahâ and you would stop dead in your tracks and look up at him with wide waiting eyes. It was such a beautiful sight for Robby, and he was waiting for the right moment to see just how much your subconscious remembers from that night. Clearly it remembers his touch and control, but did it remember his voice?Â
It was a run of the mill trauma call that you were working with Robby, Whitaker, and Trinity, along with several other nurses. Everyone had a clear job, and yours seemed to be Robbyâs assistant. Every move he made he called you for a counter position. Currently he was intubating a patient and called for you to do counter tracheal pressure so that he could see the cords better.
âOkay, now back, up, and to the right fâmeâ Robby instructed you as he glanced at the scope trying to catch the sight of cords.
You followed his direction slowly and carefully so as to not cause more trauma to his airway since it was already swollen closed. However, you almost lost the traction when Robby muttered his next words.
âThat's it sweetheart, just like thatâÂ
His words were so quiet, so simple, yet heat aggressively infiltrated your body. Your all but dead pussy came back to life from the week off she took. Feeling how you fluttered so easily at his words, the rush of fluid that now coated the inside of your underwear. You couldnât remember the last time you had been so aroused so suddenly, taking a deep breath you composed your expression as quickly as you could so no one would notice.
But Robby did. He noticed everything, especially when itâs a reaction he was really hoping to cause. Advancing the tube, he took a moment to gauge your reaction to his words. The very same ones he mentioned to you that night in the club. And much to his enjoyment you stood to his left frozen with wide eyes. Chancing a glance down to your legs he saw they were clamped tight together. He watched as you sped out of the room the moment the patient was moved to the OR. Allowing you to get a few steps ahead before following.Â
You all but ran to your locker, praying that you remembered to pack an extra change of clothes in your bag. You normally always did, never knowing if you were going to end up with bodily fluids that werenât yours splashed on your scrubs. Thanking every power that be you saw a new pair of underwear tucked in the bottom. Speeding to the bathroom you barely took the time to lock the stall before pulling down your bottoms, convinced that you mustâve started your period with how damp everything felt.Â
But all you were met with was clear sticky arousal, and lots of it. Without dwelling too much on why or how it happened you switched out the old pair for the new one you grabbed from your locker. Bunching up the old pair you stuck your head out of the door making quick work of getting to your locker and stuffing the soiled underwear in the back of your locker. Taking one more look around you saw the coast was clear before heading back to the floor.Â
The hallways weren't as clear as you thought. Robby had been watching you from the ends of the hallways, catching how you grabbed a small piece of fabric before ducking into the bathroom for a mere 5 minutes. He knew you wouldnât notice him, he knew you very well. He also knew that you hated combination locks, instead preferring a key. One that you always kept hooked on the top of your water bottle, easy enough for him to unclip it and wait it out.Â
As soon as you walked into a patient's room, it was his turn to head to your locker. A slight click sounded as he turned the key, opening the door he saw the black balled up fabric that you had thrown in the back. Picking it up he folded them as small as possible and transferred it to his bag. But not before pushing them against his nose and inhaling your musky scent deep into his lungs. And just because he could, Robby unfolded them once more and spotted the damp center. Before anyone could see if they walked by, he licked a stripe up the gusset collecting whatever he could onto his tongue.Â
The sharp tangy taste dulled only slightly by the fabric buzzed within his brain. A deep groan was pulled from his chest, followed by a low fuck. However, footsteps sounded from behind him causing him to shove your underwear into his bag and walking off. But not before promising himself to get that taste straight from the source. He was planning on waiting more than a singular shift, but if anything your underwear was more than enough confirmation that you wanted it just as bad. To hell with waiting.
By the end of shift you were exhausted, mentally and physically. You had spent the rest of the day avoiding Robby, scared of what may happen since you only had the one extra pair. One that you were actively searching for in your locker before clocking out. You couldâve sworn they were at the back of your cubby, but you mustâve slipped it into your bag since they weren't there. Thinking nothing of it for much longer you said your goodbyes to everyone as you made your way out the ambulance bay towards the bus stop.Â
âLook at you headed out on timeâ that deep drawl youâd been avoiding creeps out from the other side of the doors.Â
âOh Dr. Robby I uhm-â it was honestly sad watching you try and speak.Â
âMichaelâ
âHuh?â
âI want you to call me Michaelâ he stepped closer to you, crowding your space more than he shouldâve.Â
You attempted to back up but only made it a step and a half before your back hit the concrete wall. His large brown eyes held yours as he waited for your response. One that took you more than a beat too long to respond to.
âYes?â He decided to prompt you out of your stupor, eyebrows raising in question.
âY-yes Dr. Robb- I mean MichaelâÂ
âAlright come on sweetheart letâs get you homeâ his hand rested against your side as if to guide you to his car.
But you didnât move, too stunned and confused about what was happening in this moment. There were too many thoughts racing through your mind that it blocked your ability to walk. All of which were silenced at the slightest of touches from the man who caused those very thoughts.
Tap tapÂ
A large hand tapped your thigh twice, it had you snapping your eyes in his direction once more, the action happening before you even had the ability to process the touches. This time with no wild self monologues or reasons why you shouldnât. Just him. And you found yourself nodding okay, as you followed him through the parking lot leading you to his truck not even worrying about how you left your own car in the garage.
The drive to your house wasnât long, but Robby had a hand on the inside of your knee the entire time. You were sure he didnât do it on purpose (he did) it must be where he normally rests his hand in the car. You really were trying your best to ignore it, trying not to let yourself make him uncomfortable by showing just how much his touch turned you on. He was being so kind and driving you home late at night, and here you were hopelessly trying not to let him see you grind your hips in small circles for any type of friction.Â
Robby noticed though, he always did when it came to you. He didnât say anything yet not wanting to scare you off, it wasnât until you accidentally let out a small whine at a particularly strong press of the seam against your clit. The already low noise atmosphere had gone completely silent afterwards, almost as if the both of you were holding your breath.Â
âI-Iâm so sorry M-Michael,â the sweet stutter of you calling his name and the slow fill of tears in your eyes had his cock swelling in an instant, âI d-didnât meanâ
âHey, hey, sweetheart itâs okayâ He was never more appreciative of timing, as he parked on the side of the street in front of your complex.
âNo i-itâs not. I didnât mean to make you uncomfortableâ burying your face in your hands you don't see him adjust his pants nor do you see him smirk at your words.Â
âIâm not sweetheart I promise, in fact im flatteredâ Robbyâs words were coated in honey luring you exactly where he wanted you, âItâs natural to have needs donât be embarrassedâÂ
âI know, it just took me by surpriseâ you mumbled out feeling less scared knowing he wasnât mad or on the verge of reporting you to HR.
âSurprised by what?â
âItâs so embarrassingâ He knew what you didnât want to tell him but he was going to get what he wanted. He always did. So he held your chin with his hand and tilted your face towards his.Â
âAh ah ah, need you to tell me so I know youâre okayâ Robby was a goner, three small syllables had you spilling everything less than 12 hours after he even began training you.Â
âI just have been having problems with finishing and I wasnât expecting your hand to feel so good. But it's just so big and warm, I really didnât mean to I just havenât been so close to someone eve- I mean in so long-â
âDo you want help?â His words had you immediately stopping your rant and near slip up.Â
âI-Iâ you were taken by surprise at his offer but you couldn't stop your words before they tumbled out too blinded by lust, âyes please MikeyâÂ
Five minutes, that's all it took from the time you said yes in the car to now on your bed completely naked. You complained at first saying you should take a shower but he just shushed your worries and helped you strip out of your scrubs. Hips positioned at the edge of your bed Robby was fully clothed himself as he knelt down (with a groan and crack of his knees), face level with your glistening cunt. He took a moment to just take in the sight, massaging your thighs before placing a few feather light kisses to the inner part, the feeling had you gasping out in surprise.
âOH, uhm you donât have to do that. You can just use thisâÂ
Propping yourself on your elbows you go to begin rummaging through your bedside table for your vibrator before your body is pulled back.Â
âAnd why would I do that when I have a perfectly good mouth and fingers?â Robbyâs face scrunched in confusion, âDo you not want me to?â
âNo, god no! I just know most guys donât like that and well I don't exactly have much experience- with that I mean.â There you went mumbling again.
Robby just melted at your shyness, his sweet girl didnât want to tell him exactly how inexperienced she was. So instead of continuing with more words, he chose to instead bring his middle finger to you. Parting the soft curls that covered your glistening folds as he took his time in committing the sight to his memory. Once his finger was coated in your arousal ever so gently he began to ease his way into your warmth. Watching as your eyes flutter closed and mouth drops open in a breathy gasp at the intrusion.Â
âOh fuck, yes Mikey pleaseâ That damn nickname, one that you didnât realize you had said once before today. But he did, and he was reveling in how your body and deep memories remembered him even when you couldnât.
His slow languid pace had that familiar dull pressure building up quicker than you couldâve ever imagined. When he added that second finger your brows scrunched at the intrusion, the stretch was more than three of your fingers ever felt like. Your walls were already fluttering just from this.Â
âThatâs it, being such a good girl fâmeâÂ
His words rattled around your brain and settled deep into your core. You werenât sure why they sounded familiar, assuming it was from the many nights of you imagining what he would say to you. But there was barely any time to think too deeply about it because his mouth latched directly onto you. Burying his nose into the soft flesh and inhaling your scent before he licked a strip from where his fingers were and up to your clit.
âOH SHIT MICHAEL!â His full name was ripped from your chest. Back arching to chase the sensation once again.
His broad tongue flattened out; moving up and down, then circling your swollen clit. Robby was full on making out with your cunt. Letting out low vibrating grunts that had you wondering if you could ever use your vibrator again.Â
And Robby, he was in heaven. Moving his fingers in and out in a similar rhythm that matched his mouth. Slyly unzipping his cargoâs he pulled out his hard cock and began pumping himself from base to tip letting his own arousal drip shamelessly onto the floor. He wanted this to last forever, wanted your scent burned into his brain and the taste of your cum imprinted into his taste buds. However, all too soon your whines began to pitch into small ohâs. Your toes curled and hips ground into his face chasing that edge that had been evading you for the last long week.Â
With thighs clamping around his head, the tight cord finally snapped you all but sighed in relief. Tears filled your eyes as you finally came around his fingers, you expected him to slow down as the fluttering slowed. Instead Robby never slowed down his rhythm, if anything he sped up. His fingers that had been gently thrusting switched into a smooth movement that switched between a come-hither movement and into a scissoring motion.Â
âI don't think, Mi-ikeyâ The slow dissipating fluttering began to strengthen not a full minute after your first orgasm, âfuck, donât think I can do anotherâ
âYou can do it, just one more sweetheart. I just need a little longerâ He pulls away from your cunt only slightly to speak before he's diving in again.Â
The hand not stuffed in your heat was furiously moving up and down his cock, his own orgasm nearing. While he was focused on keeping his movements, you were distracted by a new unfamiliar sensation creeping up just behind your second orgasm. You tried to ignore it thinking it was just your body being overwhelmed. It wasnât until you were once again teetering the edge that you recognized what was happening.
âShit, wait Michael!â once again squeezing your thighs in an attempt to stop him, âH-hold on Iâm g-gonna-âÂ
You tried to warn him you really did, but Robby had crooked his fingers with precision into a spot you didnât know existed and nipped at your clit. Blinding pleasure shot through you, back arching off the bed as your mouth hung open in a silent scream. A rush of fluid gushed from your cunt, soaking Robby and the Bed below. The tight clench on his fingers and your fluids practically dripping from his beard, had all sent him over the edge. Reaching his own peak he moved back and watched the copious amounts of cum pool onto part of your comforter that was lying on the floor. Robby knew it was going to be a lot, it usually always was. He had even asked a fellow resident one time many years ago about it, hyperspermia they called it. He hoped it would slow down as he got older but apparently that wasnât the case. But watching it puddle into the blanket gave him an idea.
Wiping himself off with the other side of the fabric he removed his fingers from your spent and swollen pussy before tucking himself back in his pants. Taking those same fingers he just removed from you and scooped a small bit of his cum he left on your blanket. Standing up he rounded the bed, sitting beside where your limp body lay. Eyes closed as you attempt to catch your breath after you were pretty sure you had died and gone to heaven.
âOpen up fâmeâ HIs other hand tapped your hip twice, and just like before, the action was pulled from you before you could process.Â
As soon as you stuck out your tongue he was shoving his digits deep into your throat, moving them slowly in and out as you swirled your tongue around them. Tasting yourself as you licked his fingers clean. There was another taste that you weren't sure of but you were too exhausted, too sleepy for big thoughts.
You let out a soft grunt being jostled at the feel of dry cloth being dragged across your soaked center, a feeling that was soon soothed by a warm wet rag between your legs. Managing only small mutterings of âthank youâsâ. The last thing you remembered was his lips touching your forehead and the clink of your drawer closing. Hearing him whisper to always call him when you needed help.
Soft snores left your mouth as Robby tucked you under the covers. His mind kept replaying the way you so easily swallowed his cum- no - how eagerly you took it. And if he snatched another pair of your underwear dragging it through your sopping wet pussy well, that was no one's business but his own.Â
Gathering his keys he stopped just shy of the door, spotting the area that you set your keys in. A shiny spare house key sat on a hook. He shouldnât. He always knew that he shouldnât be doing the things he is. But he had to lock your door somehow, he wasnât about to leave it unlocked for just anyone to come in. So he took it, turning the lock from the outside as soon as he closed the door.Â
Hopping into his truck he took the pink lacey pair of now soiled fabric and put it beside the black pair from earlier in his bag before saving your address and taking off to his.Â
____________________________________
For the next handful of shifts Robbyâs mood had dramatically changed at work. He was lighter, less haunted. He also had a permanent shadow, you. Everywhere Robby was, so were you. No longer needing verbal communication simply three syllables or two light taps. Always seeming to have a hand on you; your lower back, a hip, or anywhere else he could get away with it. The entire pitt noticed the dynamic change, the way you looked at him as if he held all the answers. No one questioned it for the first couple of days, but as time went on they began to question the behaviors displayed.Â
Robby saw the whispers, saw how people looked at you and him together. The confusion and attention spurred him on. Watching everyone grasp at straws, wondering what was going on between the two of you. He lived for the double takes between the two of you, the much older attending and the sweet new nurse.Â
None of them knew what happened that night, how he had made you cum multiple times on his mouth. Nor did they know how ever since that first night, he had been over at least every other day with his face shoved into your pretty little pussy. Eating you out like a man starved, until you had come at least twice soaking his beard. You almost didnât invite him back after the post orgasm clarity hit you but when you went to grab your trusted chargeable âRobbyâ it was missing. So as per his instructions from that night, you called him for help.
Everything was going perfectly, including the way you have taken to whining about reciprocation. Trying everything you could to get his cock out and into your own mouth, but he always turned you away. Saying ânot yetâ or âthis is about youâ and each time he almost gave in when he saw how your eyes would fill up with tears. You wanted nothing more than to make him feel as good as he made you feel. But you couldnât help how your heart swelled with adoration at the prospect of him making sure you were taken care of first.
But that wasnât why of course.
He just wanted to see how desperate he could make you. He wanted your body to need him before your mind did. The idea of corrupting you before you even realized always had him borderline suffocating himself with your underwear that he had stolen from you. Tonight was no different. With one pair held to his face inhaling your scent that was still prominent on the cotton fabric, the other pair was wrapped around his cock moving up and down. The softness of the fabric is how he imagined your mouth to feel, Robby grunted into the empty room as the image of him feeding you his cum with his cock shoved down your throat as far as he could go had him gasping out as he came with zero warning. Almost whimpering as he emptied himself all over his sheets. Â
Laying there with the soiled fabric had him thinking up all the ways he could be giving you a little of him. How he would paint your lips with it and watch you stutter as everyone asked where you got your lipgloss. He would sneak you his cum when he made you breakfast in bed putting just a little on top of your pancakes. Getting you so hooked on the taste of him so that nothing else could satisfy that unknown thirst that burned at the back of your throat.
Because thatâs what you had done to him, he was addicted to you. Your scent, your taste, just you. And he couldnât wait until you were the same.
The next day brought chaos, the shift was filled with multiple traumas and drunks that seemed to never end. You were exhausted, barely having time to sit down and relax. And to top it all off you couldnât find your water bottle. You had come back from helping transfer a patient up to imaging when you realized it was nowhere to be found. You asked around the whole hospital with no luck. Considering it a loss it wasnât long before you were pulled into another room.
What you didnât know was that your water bottle was with Robby. A man who had been locked in the bathroom for the last 15 minutes, and had just finished shooting a load into the sink. Once the thick stream slowed to a light dribbling leak he aimed it right over the straw of your bottle, watching as a particularly thick spurt slid down. Taking his tip he rubbed it over the mouthpiece before closing the top. Giving it a little shake before setting it back where he grabbed it from.
He watched you for about 15 minutes running back and forth between rooms before intercepting you.Â
âHey sweetheartâ the nickname had started rolling off the tongue since that first night, âtake a break, get something to drink okay?â
âI would love to Mikey I really would, but I canât find my water bottle and-â
âItâs right there on the counterâ he pointed to the spot he left it, one you knew you looked at.Â
But before you could question it he gave your hip those two little taps that had your feet moving without question. Picking up a tablet he slid his readers down his nose so that he could peer over the rim.Â
You were still so confused on how it had just been sitting there the whole time. You swore that you cleared the area more than once. Popping the top you take a large gulp from the straw, but as soon as the water hit the back of your throat there was a slight after taste that you couldnât place. Wondering if it was the bottle you gave the mouthpiece a little lick before sniffing the top. There was nothing overtly foul that you sensed just a slight musk, but you reason that it had been a while since you washed it. So after making a mental note to clean it as soon as you got home, you didnât think much more about it continuing to gulp it down.Â
Oh but Robby, he was going to think about this for a long time. That was twice that you took him, gulping him down with no complaints. And he couldnât wait to see how many more times he could get you to taste him before he gave in.Â
The answer was many times. For the next week every shift the two of you had he would bring your favorite iced coffee in. Each time he made sure to take the liberty of rubbing his cock all over the straw and leaking a little bit of arousal into the drink before giving it a swirl. And every time he had you cum on his fingers, he always made sure to mix his own before having you clean his fingers off. However, Robby was desperate to know if you were able to truly pick up on the taste he decided to try an experiment.Â
âOne iced coffee for youâ He had found you talking to Dana at the lockers when he walked by.
The older womanâs face settled into confusion and something akin to annoyance as she once again watched the exchange. She had seen it many times over the last few weeks. He would hand you a coffee and you would beam as if he handed you the answers to the universe. Yeah, Dana noticed a lot of things. The way that you had seemed to rely on him just a bit too much.Â
âUgh thank you so much Mikey!â
And there was that damn name you had been calling him when you werenât in a patient room. No one calls him that. Itâs always Dr. Robby, Robby, or Dr. Robinavitch if someone is angry. Never once has anyone called him Michael let alone Mikey. She watched how you took a sip but made a face at the first swallow.
âDid they do something different?â
âI donât think so, why?â Robby had such a practiced air of nonchalance, but Dana was one of his oldest friends she knew when he was lying.
âDunno just tastes different, Iâll still drink it thoughâ you leaned up on your tip toes as you gave his bearded cheek a kiss and thanked him once more before walking off.
He didnât even try to bend down or meet you halfway, he loved watching you do all the work. Watching how you always tried your best to reach. But when he looked up he noticed Dana had yet to leave, making him unable to truly enjoy the fact you preferred the coffee mixed with him better.
âWhat the fuck was that?â Danaâs pointer finger landed on where you had been standing.
âThat was a coffeeâ Robbyâs smug snark and head tilt did nothing but shorten that already small string of patience she had.Â
âRobby, I want you to leave her aloneâ she looked around to make sure no one was around before stepping closer, âSheâs too young and too impressionable, and you are just-â
âPressionable?â His eyebrows shot up at the somewhat accusation of intention.Â
âAllâs Iâm saying is, she deserves something good, okay?â
âDonât worry Dana, Iâm not doing anything she didnât ask forâ Robby closes his locker, passing her by with a hand on her shoulder.
His words did absolutely nothing to calm Danaâs worries down. And if Robby was honest, she should be worried, because he was going to make sure heâs the only man to ever touch you. Hopefully, everyone else would know that soon as well.Â
The rest of the shift flew by normally, rarely a moment you werenât next to him as usual. Until you werenât. Instead he found you in front of central 7 going over an xray scan with the technician that was standing too close for his liking. Who also had a hand resting too close to your body, and an overly obnoxious laugh that permeated through the hallways in the same way C-diff does.Â
Danaâs words flitted through his head âsheâs too youngâ âshe deserves something goodâ. Robby had agreed. Because you were more than half his age and he had tattoos that were older than you. And you did deserve something good, but that something good was him. Not some young boy who just wanted to get into your pants.
No you needed a man, you needed him. He would swear that he was only looking out for you, swore that he only had your best interests at hand. Hell Robby knew the technician was married, well not anymore he had gotten a divorce three months ago, but you didnât need to know that. All he needed was doubt to be placed inside that pretty little head. Robby told himself he was just protecting you. Making sure that you donât ever have to worry about a thing because he was going to take care of it.Â
Walking up to where you were talking he leaned his body on the wall directly behind you. Tilting your head up, and as soon as you saw who it you began to lean back so that your spine was against his body. That was enough to convince him he was doing the right thing. Because look at you, practically screaming save me with the way you leaned into him. And he could never deny you.
âHey man, how are you doin, howâs the wife?â Robbyâs head flicked up in greeting.
âUhm what, no Iâm not-?âÂ
One simple word and the damage was done, Robby watched how you immediately cringed and stepped further back into him not listening to the excuses being made. Catching your arm with his hand he left it hooked around your bicep, protecting, marking, claiming what was his. It was also the second time that someone had looked at him like the idea of you two was absurd. And he loved it.Â
You however, felt hurt. Why would a man who was clearly in a relationship flirt with you, Robby wouldn't do that, in fact he just saved you from being humiliated. Robby, the man who's been nothing but helpful to you. Making sure you were taken care of and then some without even making it about him. Bringing you coffee and water when he saw how tired you were. Making sure all your patient orders were signed and filled.Â
All your thoughts have been consumed with him lately. When youâre at work you find yourself often wondering where he was or if he needed you. And when you found yourself laid on your bed with his mouth latched onto your clit and his fingers stuffed so deep the only thought filling your head was him. You started to wonder if anyone was going to compare to Robby, and clearly you couldnât be trusted to find someone as the first guy you flirted with outside of him was married.
But you didnât want to say anything to him about it. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable when he was clearly just trying to be there for you. You just wish there was a way to show him how much you appreciated him.Â
An opportunity to show him was what Robby was in the midst of creating. As he sat down to chart he let out a louder than usual groan, one that you immediately picked up on.
âYou okay Mikey?â Concern laced your voice.
âYeah donât worry about it kid Iâll be fine,â his tone taut with what you perceived to be pain.
âClearly you arenât, please let me help you?âÂ
There you went, falling so easily into his traps. He didnât know what he had done in another life for this to work out so perfectly. So with a âreluctantâ sigh he nodded and asked you to follow him. Leading you to an on call room you assumed he just didnât want to let others know he was struggling. Closing the door he turned towards you and reached out for your wrists, holding one in each of his large hands.
âYou know how I always help you feel better?â His question came quiet, almost timid.Â
âYeahâ you were slightly worried he was going to tell you he couldnât anymore.
âIâve just been hurting in a similar way lately, canât seem to really make it betterâ his thumbs caressing your wrists.
âI-I can do it,â your voice came with false confidence, âI mean Iâve never really done it but I can try, I want to try.â
âOh I donât know sweetheart, I donât want you to feel like you have toâ
âNo!â Your answer was immediate, âI really want to, please Mikeyâ
Music to his ears, your voice just pleading an old man like him to shove his cock in your mouth. Who was he to deny his sweet girl for asking so nicely. Especially when you sank to your knees without being told and started pulling at his bottoms. He let you open his pants and basked in the sight of your eyes widening when you pulled his boxers down. How the sight of him had your mouth dropping open and your tongue darting out to wet your lips.Â
He was bigger than you expected, your gaze trailed down from the thin trail of hair at the bottom curve of his stomach before leading into a patch of dark curls. His thick hard length jutted out, seemingly held low in its attempt to hold up the weight. The head an angry shade of red and leaking arousal, a small puddle already collecting on the floor between your knees.Â
Reaching out to grasp his cock he let out a hiss as you touched him. Your fingers didn't completely touch when you held him, hand covering less than half of his total size. It was intimidating. Leaning forward you press a small lick to the head right where he was dripping arousal. And as soon as the taste settled on your tongue it felt familiar, almost soothing in a way. The switch was instant, and had you doubling your efforts within seconds.Â
You wanted more, needed more of that taste. Flattening your tongue like he would on you, starting at the base and ending at the tip. You may have been inexperienced but you had watched videos, seen the tips and tricks. Now you are doing your best to implement them. Which seemed to be working because as you flicked your tongue up underneath the ridge of the head, Robby let out a grunt.
âFucking hell sweetheart, just like thatâ he couldnât stop himself as his hand wrapped itself into your hair.Â
He slowly began moving your lips up and down his length, wetting it before he allowed you to start to take him down your throat. He loved how immediate and natural it was for you to give him control. And because Robby was who he was, he wanted to see how far youâd let him take it.Â
With his hand still wrapped in your hair he took you off his cock and led you back towards his base. But he didnât stop there. Moving your mouth down beneath to where his balls hung. Lifting his cock with his other hand he stuffed your face into the soft skin between. A light squeak came from where you were below, he was slightly worried he scared you off. But before he could pull you back off you took one side into your mouth and began massaging the area with your tongue covering him in your spit before moving over to the next side.Â
Breathing through your nose had you inhaling his scent into your lungs. The deep musk of a long hard shift and the salty taste of sweat and cum had your throat vibrating with moans. The view was obscene from his angle. Your nose shoved far against him as his spit-slick balls lay against your face. He ended up having to pull you off quickly before he came prematurely.
âHoly shit, hold onâ you let out a whine when pulled you off.
But you didnât have to wait long before he was once more moving you back so that he began shoving his cock into your throat.Â
âOpen up fâme sweetheartâ he watched as you followed directions, ânow stick out your tongue, and remember to breathe through your noseâ
Once you had taken a good few breaths, he slapped his cock on top of your tongue twice before slowly moving it back into your mouth. Warmth encompassed him as he went further, before he felt the back of your throat. As he bumped the back of your hard pallet he noticed you had yet to gag.Â
âTip your head up just a bit, wanna see how far I can get,âÂ
Just that small angle change had him sliding past and down into your trachea. It wasnât until he had your nose pressed against his pelvis that you finally gagged slightly.Â
âFuck, look at thatâ his other hand felt the bulge of your throat, âknew you could do itâÂ
That small praise had you ecstatic, he waited just a few more seconds before pulling you off. Not completely however, just enough to release some pressure before he began thrusting. Your hands braced against his thighs as his cock slid in and out. Hitting the back of your throat with each thrust had your eyes filling up with tears. His balls smacked against your lower chin as his speed picked up, and all you could do was sit there and take it. Something you were more than happy to do.Â
âIâm so close sweetheart, fuckâÂ
You gave a little nod expecting him to keep going. But instead he began to pull back slowly. So you scrunched your brows and reached your neck forward so you were still on him.Â
âIts gonna be a lot kid, donât want you getting scaredâÂ
Allowing for just a moment to pull off his cock, as you look up at him.
âI can take it, please want more of you Mikeyâ your voice came out slightly hoarse from the use.
Moving back onto his cock your hands gripped his thighs encouraging him to finish down your throat. So with his thrusts picking back up to where it was before, your excitement grew. All you had wanted to do was make him feel as good as he makes you feel, and for some reason that damn taste you seemed to already be addicted to him.Â
âFuck baby,âÂ
âGonna cum,â his voice a deep growl as he warned you, â through your noseâ
You thought it was silly of him reminding you of that for what seemed the third time, but it took you two seconds to realize why. As soon as he started to cum it wasnât just light spurts, it was a flood. Your mouth was filled within seconds, cheeks puffing as you tried to keep up with small swallows. You could feel as it began dripping out the sides of your mouth no matter how hard you tried to swallow quickly.
That view in real time was even better than anything he could have imagined. Looking down he saw you already looking up at him with wide surprised eyes. Watching how his cum that dribbled out mixed with the tears escaping from the corners of your red rimmed eyes. It took him a while before he finally felt himself slow down. Removing himself from your mouth with a small wet pop, he took the opportunity to smear his tip over your lips just like he wanted to.
Knees aching you waited as robby tucked himself back in his pants before pulling you up to a standing position, holding you still as your legs gained their balance back. His hands cradling your face as his thumb swipes your chin collecting what fell before pushing it back into your mouth.Â
âWas I good?â The rasp in your voice is still prominent.Â
âSo fucking good baby,â There it was again baby, the new nickname had you preening.
âI want you to come over tonight please,â your hands grasp his jacket, âI need you so bad Michael, wanted you for so longâ
âYou donât want an old man like me to be your firstâ hook, line, and sinker. He was right where he wanted to be.Â
He knew how much you craved him, especially after you had just let him shove his balls in your face mid shift. How much you wanted his approval both in and out of this job. And he couldnât wait to give it. Just needed you to beg a bit longer, work harder.Â
âPlease, I do- I promise! Want you so bad, I need youâ Those tears once again filled your eyes as fear of rejection flooded your brain, so much so that a sob sounded from your chest.Â
As always he never said no. Not when you were sitting there so pathetic with your tears and his cum smeared all over your lips. Robby allowed your blubbering for a few minutes more before he agreed, saying how he would take you back to his place after shift. Relief flooded you, repeating small thank youâs over and over. Clinging to him as the two of you walked back into the hallway. Robby kept his eyes on you when you went back to the board to check on the patients, and saw how you tried to keep your composure. You took the time to fix your hair into looking somewhat presentable, but what you missed was the suspicious stain that had fallen into the collar of your scrubs. Robby didnât, he saw it and decided to keep that there. Like a dog marking its territory, he wanted everyone to see.
There had only been half an hour left in your shift when you made outback to the hub. You ended up giving report to another nurse who came in early and offered to take your run. But before you could leave Dana flagged you over. She was planning on asking if you were okay seeing how you were flushed and eyes red. However, the closer you got she was able to see that fucking stain that he left. Her eyes went wide with anger before looking around the room to spot someone, and you were confused. So looking down at yourself you finally noticed the problem. Heat rushed to your face as you took her by the hand and drug her aside.Â
âWait Dana hold on-â
âWhat do you think youâre doing kid?!â Her accent thick as she whispers trying to control her anger, âHe is more than twice your age, and not to mention the chief of this floorâÂ
âI know, I know but Dana he is so good to me. And he's so kind I know what I'm doing I swearâÂ
 You plead with her to drop it, and reluctantly she does. But as you walked out with Robby you could see the look she held as you passed her. To you it was one of wariness about the dynamic of the power imbalance. Robby recognized it though, he saw it often. He sees right through her concern and right into the disgust that was very poorly hidden, and that had his cock swelling all over again. Knowing just how much she and others were calling him all sorts of things for sneaking you into his bed.Â
Which is exactly where you were now, splayed out on his bed naked and whining with want. Lips swollen from kissing him, marks littering your neck and chest down to where he was now, knuckle deep in your soaked cunt as he had you working on your second orgasm. Crooking his fingers in the exact spot that he knew you needed had you careening onto the edge, walls clenching his fingers as you moan your release.Â
Robby loved having you fucked dumb, after your second you tended to become extremely pliable. Something you were going to need for him to ease his way in, he may be a gross old man but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. Not his sweet girl. Stripping himself of the rest of his clothes he made his way back up to you. Where you ran your hands across his broad chest nails raking against his skin.
âGonna need you to relax fâme can you do that?â He hooked an arm behind one of your knees opening you up.Â
With a nod of your head he slid the tip of his cock through your folds collecting your arousal before notching it at your entrance. Pushing the first few inches he gave pause seeing your face scrunch up in slight discomfort, waiting a moment more before going further only to stop once more as you let out a hiss.Â
âI-I donât, I canâtâ The stretch was intense. It didn't hurt but the pressure was immense, like he was in your stomach.Â
âYou can do it for me sweetheart, already halfway thereâ His reassurance did nothing, only making you squirm at the idea there was more than what was already in you.
He could feel you clench around him at his words, you needed to relax but that wasnât happening. So as you took a deep breath in, he shoved the rest of himself in with no warning. The air that had just entered your lungs was pushed out at the intrusion. Nails dug into his arms as tears sprung to your eyes.Â
Oh how he loved to see you cry, especially while you were stuffed full of his cock. The only one to have ever made a home in your body, and he was going to make sure he was the last. He knew you better than anyone else ever could, and he knew exactly what to do to calm you down.Â
âAh Ah Ah,â Robby was met with immediate stillness from you, eyes open and glued to him, âLook at that, so full. I knew you could do it. Taking me so well, need you to be good for me okay?âÂ
Rivulets of tears ran down your cheeks as you nodded, you had to be good. His hips moved back, cock slipping almost all the way out before he thrust forward to the hilt. The first few movements were slow, getting you used to the sensation. He watched as the scrunch between your brows relaxed and your own hips soon tried to match his movements. Taking that as a go ahead he started a faster rhythm, one that had you gasping for breath.Â
âFucking made for me sweetheart, knew it long before your fucking birthdayâ His words went in one ear and out the other.
Already so sensitive and puffy from the last two orgasms, you could feel another building already at the feel of him moving in and out.Â
âAll mine baby, just fâmeâ He delivers a particularly harsh thrust, his cock bullying into your cervix, that slight twinge of pain mixed with pleasure had you fluttering around him. âCâmon need you to say it for me pleaseâÂ
Robby pauses for a moment before grabbing at your other leg and hooking that over his other shoulder, almost folding you in half as he settles his weight onto you. The angle had you feeling as though he was thrusting into your throat as he was reaching places you didnât know existed.Â
âF-fuck ye-es, all y-yours!â voice still cracking from the use of earlier, âcum i-inside, on bi-irth con-ntrolâÂ
Mixed feelings ran through the man, on one hand he was enjoying the thought of you allowing him to claim you so deeply had him on the edge of finishing. On the other he was annoyed with you being on birth control, he wanted the fruits of his labor to be prominent in your swollen belly filled with his child. Instead of dwelling on that particular fact, he decided to file the information away for another day.Â
âWant me to cum inside, fuck, want your old man to fill you up and have you dripping for days?âÂ
The building pressure in your lower stomach sharpened with his words, becoming a tight string at the friction of his small grinds when his pelvis met yours.Â
âFucking mineâ his deep growl was followed by his lips crashing on yours.
The movement had him laying most of his weight on you, keeping him fully sheathed within you as your third orgasm finally crashed through you. Your body was choking his cock with each wave, sending Robby head first through his own orgasm. Pure white hot heat pooled inside you as he flooded your insides with his cum, the sensation pulling out more of your own aftershocks.Â
You were extremely surprised that he still had so much left after the literal full course meal he had given you before. The earlier promise of you dripping his cum for days after seems like itâs about to come true. Your head was buzzing, nothing but yours and Robbyâs heavy breaths rang through your ears
âYou okay sweetheart?â His words broke your quiet.
Only letting out a small mhmmm. Eyes drifting closed as exhaustion took over, you felt his hands come up and settle on the side of your face. A soft kiss is placed on your lips, one you were too lazy to reciprocate. He loved having you like this. Itâs how you ended up on your birthday, when he had first tasted you, and now as you let him into your body.Â
Watching as you fell asleep, Robby had many thoughts. Thoughts of the future and what it held for you both. He should be thinking about how heâs stealing your youth in a venture to prove to himself that someone needed him. But he canât have been wrong in his actions when heâs looking at the product of his internal truth.Â
Here you were laid out on his bed, putting way too much trust in him when truly you shouldâve been running. However, you didnât know any better. And that was by design. But lying here with you, he realized there were still too many variables.Â
You finally wanted him, needed him. But you didnât rely on him yet, not exactly. He wanted you to know that he would take care of everything, that there wasnât a thing in this world that you should worry about. And then there was the fact that people like that no good x-ray tech thought they could flirt with you, as if you weren't his. He needed something that told everyone that looked at you, that you were taken, unavailable, Robbyâs.
new dad jack abbot who is just absolutely obsessed with newborn scrunchesâŚlike to the point he will fight/race reader to be the first one in front of the bassinet the second your baby moves or makes any noise.
those scrunches are HIS.
heâll pick the baby up sooo gently, cooing at them as they make all the baby noises, and the second that baby scrunches up to stretch jack is a puddle on the floor. donât even bother mopping it up cause itâs just gonna keep happening every time that baby wakes up.
the babyâs little legs curl up into their bottom, arms stiff and stretched out, back curved a little and the cheeksâŚgood lord those chubby cheeks get all squished against their arms and their eyebrows raise. their tiny face gets red as their fists flail a little bit.
jackâs got the biggest smile on his face, so soft and warm for his mini me.
âbiggggg stretchhhhâ, jack will coo, eyebrows dancing in his hairline as he gasps softly when the baby finishes stretching and looks right at him.
âthere, much betterâ, jack says softly, pulling his baby close and letting them rest against his shoulder; âyeah i knowâŚfeels so nice to stretch out, huh?â
reader just watches the entire thing unfold with nothing but love in their eyes. half ready to pounce on jack and not wanting to interrupt the moment. reader has no idea how many videos of that exact moment they have on their phone by now. at least a dozen.
when the baby reaches that stage in between three and four weeks old where they technically arenât a newborn anymore, jack is distraught. his baby is growing up and he doesnât like it. even more so when he goes to pick the baby up and they justâŚdonât scrunch.
instead their arms go all the way above their head, stretching out the same way jack wouldâŚlike a full grown person. their tiny body is still a little arched, but not the same way it used to be. not in full scrunch, legs still dangling below their little body.
jack freezes, almost immediately. he justâŚstaresâŚloses it. blinks once, then twice before a soft breath comes from his mouth, brows already furrowing before he can stop them.
âum excuse me bean, where the heck is your scrunch?â
his voice almost wavers. bean stares back at him, blinks once before chewing on their fist, unsure why jackâs still got them held out into the air. clearly the scrunch isnât coming.
bean grunts in protest.
jack brings them close, cradling their tiny head and letting his lips brush against the soft downy hair on top of their head.
âcanât believe you lost your scrunchâŚwhen did you get so big?â, he whispers into their skin.
he inhales the new baby scent, which is thankfullyâstill fully in tact.
jack tells you dramatically about the events when you emerge from the shower. hands waving in the air. heâs fully dissatisfied and appalled that bean dared to loose their scrunch. not when it was his favorite thing.
âitâs ok honey, now bean has the cute baby stretchâ, reader assures him.
jack letâs put a noise that almost sounds like a grunt, but sighs anyways; âIt is kinda cuteâŚâ
âsee? itâs okâ, reader tells him, caressing his hand with her thumb; âweâve got lots of videos too, jack.â
jack nods, eyes flicking over to look at bean whoâs chilling in their bouncer chair. he points at them, eyes narrowed with a quiet humor thatâs decorated with a slight seriousness; âyouâ, he says; âneed to stop growing so fast.â
so yeah, heâs a little distraught and has a mini existential crisisâŚand maybe he watches those videos of every scrunch bean every did later that night in bed while youâre fast asleep next to him. maybe his eyes are a little glossy, sue him. thatâs his baby.
The king does not want to take a wife. Certainly not one as young as you, but it was necessary. The spinster daughters of earls, dukes, and foreign kings were all unable to bear the kingdom its heirs. He knows this and understands what your youth provides him. Though it doesn't stop King Michael's court from gossiping over how old the bachelor king is to how young the future queen consort is.
You're a noblewoman with a sizable dowry, the eldest daughter of a kingdom which Michael rarely concerns himself with. And if the rumors among his court are to be believe, you're a fine-looking woman as well.
He considers your appearance and temperance among many things in the weeks between the accepted proposal and your journey to his kingdom, soon to be yours. Finally, on a bright, warm morning, Sir Jack arrives to the king's chambers to announce your near arrival. Three hours later, Michael sits on his throne and waits.
When you finally arrive, the king has but one thought: At least his children will be handsome.
Duke Langdon is the first member of the court to meet you. Michael should be there, but he frankly wasn't all that interested in this marriage affair until he laid eyes on you. Now, though, standing would seem far too eager for the old king.
You curtsey as the duke takes your hand. Michael does not let his jealousy stir as Frank lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your gloved-knuckles. A scowl threatens to curdle Michael's regal mask. Only the knowledge that every eye in the room, from his court and yours, is chaperoning the interaction keeps the king calm.
"My lord," you gently greet. Michael leans forward. His eyes may not be the best these days, but the smile on your lips is unmistakeable. "It is an honor to meet you."
Frank drops your hand to bow himself, but when he steps back, you step closer. Frank's ensuing laugh is tight, "The honor is mine, your royal highness."
You laugh. Unlike Frank, the sound is unashamed. "Please, no formalities," you wave a hand through the air. "I am to be your wife, am I not? Certainly you shall call me by my name!"
Frank flounders, "Myâ My wife? Iâ"
You cut him off, "Though, you are far younger than I was warned, but I suppose that should only make for a happier union!"
Every person in the room tenses. Well, all except you, but as the future queen, you're smart enough to catch on. Your smile falls as you look from person to person. Somehow, your eyes skip the very man with whom you split the room's attention.
The king, to his credit, would appear unbothered if it was not for the crimson blush that paints his cheeks.
"What?" You ask, fighting to keep your tone light. "Have I made a mistake?"
"No, your highness," the duke extends a hand to his side, to the throne. "The king is your betrothed."
You gasp softly as your eyes land on Michael. He merely smirks, lets his thighs spread wider on his throne and pretends not to notice when your gaze dips between them. You stutter out all sorts of apologies, probably fearful that you've damned yourself to ridicule and a life without a husband, a lie without being queen, but Michael stops your spiral.
"My lady," Michael booms, throwing his arms out to the side. "Come say hello to your husband."
Iâve never been brave enough to do it myself, but I have thought of this exact scenario before. Pleaseeeee I need a regency/medieval era x the Pitt crossover with this trope đĽşđŠđđ˝
summary : everyone knows you and robby are like two magnets, pulled together and destined to be together. everyone except the two of you, apparently.
word count : 10.1 k
warnings : mentions of blood, passing out, smut, p in v, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), 18 +, MDNI , implied aged gap , fingering
a/n: as usual, not proofread !
The waiting room looks like hell.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Too bright. Too loud. Too many people packed shoulder-to-shoulder beneath fluorescent lights that wash everyone the same sick shade of exhausted gray. A toddler screams somewhere near triage. Somebody vomits into a plastic bag near the reception desk. EMTs burst through the ambulance bay doors every six minutes carrying fresh disasters like offerings.
And over all of it: the constant overhead paging.
The ER never really sleeps. It just bleeds into the next catastrophe.
âYou got a room for a possible bowel perf?â a paramedic barks, already wheeling the patient forward.
âTrauma Two,â You answer automatically without looking up from your chart.
âTrauma Twoâs occupied.â
âThen hallway bed six.â
âThat guyâs psych hold.â
âThen put him literally anywhere with oxygen and a pulse ox.â The paramedic grins tiredly.
âThatâs why I like you.â
âYeah, well, poor judgmentâs a recurring theme around here.âBehind you, a familiar voice cuts through the noise immediately.
âShe flirts with everybody before midnight. Donât take it personal.â
You don't have to turn around to know itâs Dr. Robby. Still, your stomach betrays you anyway.
Stupid thing.
The paramedic laughs.
âDamn, Robby. Possessive tonight.â
âThatâs not what this is,â Robby mutters immediately.
You finally glance up. Big mistake. He looks exhausted. Not regular exhausted. Hospital exhausted. The kind that settles into the bones after too many double shifts and too many people dying under your hands no matter how fast you work. His dark curls are damp at the temples from hours under harsh ER heat, scrub top wrinkled, stethoscope hanging crooked around his neck. And stillâ still unfairly handsome. You hate that about him.
Hatesthat after fourteen hours on shift he can still look across a trauma bay and make your brain briefly stop functioning like a licensed medical professional. The paramedic wheels off laughing. Robby steps into the space beside you immediately, eyes dropping to the chart in your hands.
Because somewhere along the line the two of you became⌠this.
Too synced up.
Too aware of each other.
Too comfortable.
You know how he takes his coffee.
He knows when your migraines start before you say anything.
You hand him instruments before he asks during procedures.
He automatically moves people out of your path during traumas without even looking.
Nobody misses it. Especially not Dana.
âYou two are way past appropriate,â she muttered three shifts ago while watching you two argue over a chest tube placement like a divorced couple.
You laughed.
Robby didn't.
Now he leans slightly over your shoulder, scanning the chart.
âYou eat yet?â There it is. Every damn shift. You keep your eyes on the paperwork.
âI had coffee.â
âThat ainât food.â
âIt has nutritional value emotionally.â
âCute.â His tone flattens immediately. âEat somethinâ.â You scribble another note onto the chart.
âYes, dad.â Robby sighs through his nose. Not annoyed. Worse. Concerned.
âSeriously.â
âIâm fine.â
âYou said that six hours ago.â
âAnd look.â You gesture vaguely at yourself. âStill vertical.â His eyes flick over your face briefly. Too briefly for anybody else to notice. Long enough for you to feel it anyway.
âYou got that headache again?â he asks quietly. You blink.
âHow the hell do you always know that?â
âBecause you rub your temple every thirty seconds when it starts.â your hand drops immediately away from your face. Robbyâs expression shifts just slightly.
Victory.
Tiny.
Private.
Dangerous.
Before either of you can say another word, the overhead speakers crackle violently:
âCODE TRAUMA. MULTIPLE GSWs EN ROUTE. ETA THREE MINUTES.â
The entire ER changes shape instantly. Everybody moves. Nurses sprint toward trauma bays. Stretchers reposition. Gloves snap on. The easy rhythm of conversation disappears beneath adrenaline and practiced chaos. Robby is already moving.
âSo much for food,â you mutter.
âYouâre still eatinâ after this,â he throws over his shoulder.
âYou canât legally force me.â
âI know where your locker is.â
You snort despite yourself and follow him into Trauma One. Three minutes later the ambulance bay doors explode open. And suddenly nobody has time to breathe anymore. The first patient crashes before the second stretcher even clears the ambulance bay.
âTwenty-three-year-old male,â the paramedic shouts while helping transfer the body over. âMultiple GSWs to the chest and abdomen, lost pulse twice in transportââ
âWe got him,â Robby cuts in immediately. And just like that, he changes. Not physically. Something else. The warmth disappears first. The dry humor. The tired little almost-smiles he only really gives staff he trusts. Everything narrows into sharp-edged focus so complete it almost feels frightening to witness up close.
âTube him,â he orders. Youâre already moving before he finishes speaking.
âOn it." The room erupts into controlled chaos around you. Monitors screaming. Gloves snapping. Blood everywhere. The patient looks young. Too young. Baby-faced beneath the oxygen mask, skin already going gray around the lips. Robby climbs onto the side rail slightly to get better leverage while assessing the chest wounds.
âNo breath sounds left side.â
âTension pneumo?â you ask.
âLooks like it.â He points instantly. âNeedle.â You slap the decompression needle into his waiting hand before the nurse beside you can even react. Robby doesnât look at you when he takes it. Doesnât need to. Thatâs the problem. You work together too well now. A hiss of trapped air escapes the patientâs chest.
âPressureâs tanking,â Langdon says.
âHow bad?â
âSeventy systolic.â
âBlood now.â You move automatically, cutting through clothing while Robby barks orders over the noise. Another stretcher bursts through the doors behind you.
Second GSW. Teenager this time. Jesus Christ.
âTrauma Two ready?â Dana yells.
âNo,â you answer immediately. âUse Three.â
âWe need you in there too.â You glance toward Robby instinctively. Big mistake. Because heâs already looking at you. Just for a second. Long enough for that familiar awareness to pass silently between you both beneath the chaos.
Go.
You peel away instantly toward the second trauma bay. The teenager is conscious at least. Barely. Crying. Blood soaking through both hands where heâs trying to hold pressure against his own stomach.
âHey, heyâlook at me,â you say firmly while climbing beside the stretcher. âStay with me.â
âI donât wanna die,â he chokes out immediately. God. You hate when they say that.
âYouâre not gonna die.â
âYou promise?â You donât answer fast enough. Because nobody smart makes promises in an ER. Behind you, through the open trauma bay doors, you can still hear Robby running his room like a battlefield commander.
âPush epi.â
âAgain.â
âClear.â The defibrillator cracks loud enough to echo. Your own patient starts crashing ten minutes later. Then everything becomes movement again. Blood transfusions. Suction. Pressure. Yelling.
At some point somebody presses a protein bar into your scrub pocket without explanation. You already know it was Robby. You donât even have to look. Two hours pass like that. Then three. The teenager survives surgery. The first patient doesnât. You know the exact second Robby loses him because the entire energy of Trauma One changes. The noise drops. Voices lower. A silence settles that only really exists in hospitals after death. You finish dictating notes at the nursesâ station forty minutes later with aching shoulders and blood dried stiff across your scrub sleeves. The ER has calmed slightly. Not quiet. Never quiet. But survivable. You rub at your eyes tiredly while signing discharge paperwork.
âYou didnât eat that.â Your head lifts immediately. Robby stands beside the desk holding the untouched protein bar from your pocket. Shit.
âI forgot.â
âYou forgot for three hours?â
âIt was busy.â
âItâs always busy.â You sigh dramatically and reach for the bar. He doesnât hand it over yet.
âRobby.â
âYou get dizzy again?â
âNo.â
âYou lyinâ?â
ââŚmaybe a little.â His jaw tightens. Not angry. Worried. Again. You hate how much that affects you.
âIâm fine,â you insist more quietly this time.
âYeah,â he mutters. âThat phrase means absolutely nothinâ when it comes outta your mouth anymore.â Before you can answer, Dana walks past carrying charts and immediately stops dead seeing the two of you standing too close again.
âOh my God,â she says flatly.
You blink. âWhat?â
âThis.â She gestures vaguely between you both. âWhatever weird emotionally repressed slow-burn nonsense this is.â Robby pinches the bridge of his nose immediately.
âDanaââ
âNo, seriously. Itâs painful.â She points at you. âYou look at him like he personally hung the moon.â Your entire soul leaves your body.
âExcuse me?â
âAnd Robby looks at her like somebody put a live grenade in his chest.â
âIâm literally standing right here,â Robby mutters.
âYou two have been divorced-married for like six months.â
âWe are notââ
âYou shared fries yesterday.â
âThat doesnât mean anything.â
âYou remembered her migraine medication before she did.â Robby opens his mouth. Stops. Closes it again. Dana looks vindicated immediately.
âOh, my God.â
âDana,â you warn weakly.
âNo wonder the whole department thinks youâre sleeping together.â Silence. Complete silence. A nearby nurse actually turns around trying not to look interested. Robby stares at Dana like heâs reconsidering several HR policies simultaneously. You can physically feel heat crawling up your neck.
âWe are not sleeping together,â you say tightly. Dana snorts.
âHonestly thatâs worse. The tension in this department could power the city grid.â Then she walks away before either of you can recover. You stare at the floor. Robby stares somewhere over your shoulder. The protein bar gets silently placed into your hand at last. A wave of nausea fills you head to toe as your migrain pounds against your skull, and you wince and push away from the desk.
"Eat it." Robby pushes. You nod, turning away from him.
"Yeah, i will. Later-" You barely finish your sentence when your vision tunnels and you stumble. You sway a little in place before gravity does it's job and you go crashing for the floor.
"Shit !" Robby catches you before you have the chance to crack your skull open on the linoleum, fingers pressed to your neck to check your vitals. A stupid reflex. He looks up at Dana, who is walking away. "Dana ! A little help here !" He calls. Dana stops and spins around on high alert, and her eyes blow wide.
"Oh for pete's sake." She breathes, slinging her stethoscope off her neck as she runs forward. "What the hell happened ?" Robby shifts you in his arms, one hand supporting your limp neck.
"She's dehydrated. Only had coffee." He explains, his voice rough. Dana swears under breath and looks up.
"Perlah, get me some saline !" She shouts, "Santos, Whittaker, get me a bed !" Everything moves at once after that. The ER shifts shape around emergencies automatically, instinctively, like a living organism responding to injury. Nurses break into motion. A gurney appears from somewhere down the hall. Somebody lowers the volume on the television overhead. And through all of it, Robby doesnât let go of you for even a second.
âShe hit her head?â Dana asks quickly, already checking your pupils while Robby keeps you upright against his chest.
âNo,â he answers immediately. âI caught her.â The speed of that answer makes Danaâs eyebrows climb. Interesting.
âBP?â she asks.
âCouldnât get one yet.â
âShe breathing okay?â
âYes.â
âPulse?â
âFast.â His jaw tightens. âToo fast.â You lie limp against him completely unconscious, cheek pressed against the navy-blue fabric of his scrub top. One of your hands is curled loosely against his chest like your body just gave up trying to hold itself upright. And Jesus Christâ Robby looks terrified. Not visibly to most people. But everybody here knows him. They know the difference between Dr. Robby handling a crisis and Robby barely holding himself together through one. Langdon skids to a stop beside Mel and Samira, who have stopped in their tracks to stare at their friend passed out on the ground.
"Jesus, what happened ?" He asks, his tone wuipped.
Robby looks up, incredulous.
"The fuck does it look like Frank ? She's unconcsious !" He swears under his breath. "Whittaker ! Where the fuck is that bed ?"
âComing through!â A stretcher rattles around the corner at full speed. Whittaker wheels a bed over fast while Santos helps clear space beside the nursesâ station.
âRobby,â Dana says slower this time. Like sheâs talking him down off something. His eyes flick up finally. For half a second he genuinely looks like he forgot anyone else was there. Then his face shutters immediately back into professional composure.
Right.
Doctor mode.
He carefully transfers you onto the bed, one hand still bracing the back of your head even after youâre safely down against the mattress.
âSheâs burning up,â he mutters. Dana presses a thermometer against your forehead.
âLow-grade fever.â She frowns. âProbably running herself into the ground.â
âShocking,â Santos mutters under his breath. Robby shoots him a look sharp enough to cut steel. Santos immediately raises both hands. âIâm just saying.â
âGet fluids running,â Robby says flatly. Dana watches him for a second too long. Then:
âHow longâs this been going on?â Robby doesnât look away from you.
âWhat?â
âThis martyr complex of hers.â Dana gestures vaguely toward your unconscious body. âSheâs looked like hell all week.â
âShe said she was fine.â
âOh my God.â Dana actually laughs once. âAnd you believed that?â His expression darkens immediately becauseâ No. He didnât. Thatâs the problem. He knew. He knew you were overworking. Knew you were skipping meals. Knew the migraines were getting worse because he memorized your tells months ago without meaning to. And somehow he still let this happen. The guilt crawls visibly across his face. Dana sees it instantly.
âHey,â she says, voice softening slightly. âThis isnât on you.â Robby exhales sharply through his nose.
âShe passed out standing next to me.â
âBecause sheâs an idiot.â A beat. Then quieter: âAnd because this place eats people alive.â Nobody argues with that. Perlah arrives with saline while Princess hooks you up to monitors. Your pulse flashes too fast across the screen immediately. Robby stares at it like he personally offended the laws of medicine.
âSheâs gonna wake up pissed we made a scene,â Dana says knowingly. That almost gets a smile out of him. Almost. Instead he reaches down absentmindedly and brushes a strand of hair back away from your face. The entire room goes still for exactly one second. Because thatâ That was not a coworker gesture. Robby realizes it immediately after doing it. His hand stills. Danaâs eyes widen slowly like she just found proof of life on another planet.
âOh,â she says very quietly. Robby straightens instantly. Professional again. Too late. Way too late. âYou are so screwed,â Dana informs him with the calm certainty of someone announcing a weather forecast.
âIâm not discussing this with you.â
âYouâre in love with her.â Whittaker nearly chokes in the background. Robbyâs face hardens immediately.
âDana.â
âNo, no, this is actually insane now.â She points between him and your unconscious form. âYou looked two seconds away from coding yourself when she hit the floor.â
âShe fainted.â
âAnd you caught her like a grieving Victorian widower.â Silence. Santos turns around entirely to hide his laughter. Mel and Samira pretend to be busy with a chart as Mckay walks by, her brows furrowed at the scene. Langdon whistles and turns around, walking off his his hands in his pockets. Robby rubs both hands down his face hard enough to leave red marks behind.
âThis conversation is over.â
âMhmm.â Dana crosses her arms. âYou gonna tell her before or after the next time she collapses from neglecting basic human survival needs?â His eyes drift back toward you automatically. Unconscious. Pale. IV running steadily now. Something in his expression shifts again. Softer this time. More dangerous.
âSoon,â he says quietly before he can stop himself. Dana goes completely still. She sighs, and her face breaks into a grin.
"Great. Abbot owes me a hundred bucks." Robby goes still.
"What ?"
-------------
The world is bright.
God, it's so bright.
You crack your eyes open and immediately regret it, groaning as the bustling sounds of the ER flood back in.
"Ah. Rise and shine, sleepy-head." You tilt your head to the side. Langdon and Mckay are in your room, Mckay down by the computer, checking your chart while Langdon is sat by your bed, adjusting the drip flow in the IV.
Wait.
Why are you in a room ?
Your voice is rough with sleep when you speak.
ââŚwhat?â Langdon grins immediately.
âOh, sheâs alive. Shame. I was just about to steal your locker.â You blink at him slowly, brain still buffering.
ââŚwhy am i in a room?â You croak. "Why are you guys in a room.. with me ?"
âVisiting hours,â McKay says dryly without looking up from the chart. âWe brought flowers.â You glance around blearily. No flowers.
ââŚyouâre both assholes.â
âCorrect,â Langdon says pleasantly. Then your brain catches up.
Room.
IV.
Monitor.
The realization hits all at once and you groan, dragging a hand over your face.
âOh my God.â
âThere it is,â McKay mutters. âThe embarrassment. Nature is healing.â
âHow long was I out?â Langdon checks the watch on his wrist dramatically.
âLong enough for Robby to threaten three residents, snap at a nurse, and hover outside this curtain like a divorced father at a middle school dance recital.â Your stomach drops instantly.
ââŚwhat?â McKay finally looks over at you then, expression dangerously entertained.
âOh, yeah. It was bad.â
âHe scared Santos so badly she almost started crying,â Langdon adds.
âThatâs not true.â
âShe absolutely thought she was getting fired.â
âI did not snap at Santos,â Robbyâs voice cuts in sharply from outside the curtain. Both of them immediately grin like sharks scenting blood. And then Robby steps into the room carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and an electrolyte drink in the other. He stops the second he sees your eyes open. Every inch of tension in him visibly shifts. Not gone. Just redirected.
âOh, there he is,â Langdon says smugly. âThe grieving widow.â
âFrank,â Robby says flatly.
âYou were pacing.â
âI was working.â
âYou checked on her seventeen times.â McKay snorts into her coffee. Robby ignores both of them completely, eyes already on you instead.
âYou with us?â You nod weakly.
âUnfortunately.â
âAny dizziness?â
âYes.â
âNausea?â
âA little.â
âHeadache?â You just stare at him. He sighs. âRight. Stupid question.â Robby looks like he wants the earth to physically open beneath him.
âNope. This is the best day of my life.â Robby points toward the door with terrifying calm.
âGet out.â McKay is already cackling as Langdon lets himself be physically shoved toward the curtain. The curtain swings shut behind them amid open laughter from the hallway. Then itâs quiet again. Well. Quiet except for the distant ER chaos and your own heartbeat trying to escape your body. You stare determinedly at the blanket over your lap. Robby stares somewhere over your left shoulder. Neither of you speak for a full five seconds. He sighs, pinching his nose.
"We put you on IV Saline. You were dehydrated." He explains, walking over to the seat Langdon had previously occupied. You gulp, nodding.
"My bad." He chokes on a laugh, shaking his head.
"Yeah, it is your bad. I can't have you collapsing like that in the middle of a shift." You groan, shaking your head.
"What, would you rather I do it before ? Or after ? I'm sorry, oh ER overlord, i'll try to control my unconscious state from now on." Robby lets out a short, incredulous breath through his nose.
âDonât get smart with me.â
âIâm not getting smart,â you say, already pushing the blanket off your legs. âIâm getting out of here.â His head snaps toward you instantly.
ââŚno, youâre not.â You pause mid-movement.
âYes,â you say slowly, like heâs missed something obvious, âI am.â Robby stands up so fast the chair behind him scrapes the floor.
âYou just passed out.â
âAnd I woke up.â
âThatâs not how this works.â
âItâs exactly how it works.â You swing your legs over the side of the bed anyway, ignoring the slight sway in your balance as you reach for your shoes on instinct. Robbyâs voice drops.
âStop.â You freeze for half a second. Not because he told you to. Because of how he said it. But then you shake it off and pull your shoe on anyway.
âIâm going back to work,â you repeat. Robby moves closer immediately.
âYouâre not cleared.â
âIâm fine.â
âYou are not fine.â You glance up at him sharply.
âI didnât ask for a second opinion.â
âAnd Iâm not giving you one,â he snaps back. âIâm telling you, as the attending who just watched you hit the floorââ
âBecause I forgot to eat,â you cut in. âNot because Iâm dying.â
âThat doesnât make it better!â The words echo harder than either of you probably intend. Silence hits for a beat. Your fingers still on your shoe. Robby drags a hand down his face, breathing out through his nose like heâs trying not to explode.
âYou donât get to justââ He stops himself, jaw flexing. âYou donât get to walk back out there like nothing happened.â You stand up fully now. A little too fast. The room tilts slightly.
âIâve got patients,â you say more quietly. Robbyâs voice goes lower.
âSo do I.â A beat. Then: âAnd as of right now, you are on of them. Now, Iâm telling you to sit back down.â You stare at him. He stares right back. Thereâs no humor in it anymore. No teasing. No banter. Just that same pressure from earlierâtoo much concern packed into too little space. You exhale through your nose.
ââŚyou donât get to order me around.â Robby laughs once, sharp and disbelieving.
âApparently I do, considering I just watched you hit the floor and scare half the department into thinking we were gonna lose you.â That lands. Harder than it should. You look away for a second. Then back at him.
âIâm not fragile,â you say again, quieter. Robbyâs expression shifts instantly.
âI didnât say you were.â
âYouâre acting like I am.â
âIâm acting like youâre someone who almost cracked their skull open because they refused to take a break.â That makes you go still. A beat passes. Then you grab your badge from the bedside table. Robbyâs eyes widen slightly.
ââŚdonât.â You clip it onto your scrub top.
âIâm going back to work.â
âNo,â he says again, sharper now. You step around him. He moves with you immediately, blocking the exit. You stop. Look up at him.
ââŚmove.â Robby doesnât. For the first time since you woke up, he looks genuinely frustrated in a way that isnât controlled anymore.
âYouâre making a stupid call.â
âAnd youâre not my keeper.â That hits something in him. You see it. The flicker. The crack.
A pause. Then softerâbut no less firm:
âIâm still not letting you walk out there like that.â You stare at him for a long second. Then, very deliberately, you step sideways. Not pushing past him. Not fighting. Just⌠going around. Robby turns instantly.
âHeyââ
âI said Iâm fine,â you cut in, already heading for the curtain.
âYouâre notââ
âI am,â you repeat, not stopping. Robby follows you out into the corridor. Langdon and McKay are still visible down the hall, both of them immediately clocking whatâs happening and exchanging a look.
âYou donât get to just leave.â You finally stop in the middle of the hallway. Turn back to him. People move around you. A stretcher rolls past. A monitor alarm bleats somewhere in the distance. Life keeps going. Even when youâre both frozen in it.
âI have a shift,â you say calmly. âYou have patients. We are both adults.â Robby looks at you like he wants to argue and canât find the right angle anymore.
âYouâre still dizzy.â
âIâll sit if I need to.â
âYou shouldnât be standing.â
âAnd yet I am.â A beat. Langdon quietly mouths, this is insane, to McKay. Then you turn and keep walking. You wrap your arms around yourself, walking over to the nurse's station and picking up the chart you had left there. Your teenage patient. You sniffle and walk over to his room, pushing the curtain aside. Robby follows.
Of course he does.
You feel him before you even hear himâheavy footsteps that donât belong to the usual ER rhythm, too deliberate, too controlled, like heâs forcing himself not to close the distance in three strides and drag you back by force.He stops just outside the curtain.You donât look at him. You canât afford to. Thereâs a chart in your hands and a patient who actually needs you upright, even if your skull still feels like itâs full of cotton and static.
âVitals stable,â you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else.
âYou donât get to justââ
âRobby,â you cut in, sharper than you intend. A warning. Or maybe a plea. âNot here.â Silence. Then, quieter, dangerously controlled:
âYou think I care where it is?â That finally makes you look at him. Heâs standing half in the curtain light, half in the hallway chaos, scrubs wrinkled, hair slightly messed from running his hand through it too many times. He looks like he hasnât stopped moving since you collapsed. His jaw is tight. Not angry anymore. Past angry.
âYou passed out,â he says. âIn my department. In my ER. In front of my staff. And you woke up and decided the appropriate response was to go back to work like nothing happened.â
âI am back to work.â
âNo.â One step closer. âYou are standing on adrenaline and spite and a saline bag thatâs barely had time to do anything.â You let out a short breath, half laugh, half exhaustion.
âYou always this dramatic with every patient, or am I special?â That lands. You see it hit himâright under the ribs. His expression shifts, like something in him finally snaps into place instead of being held together.
âNo,â he says. Then he reaches for your wrist. Not hard. Not rough. But decisive.
âHeyâRobbyââ He doesnât answer. Just turns and walks you backwardânot dragging, not forcing, but absolutely not giving you the option to argue your way out of it. You stumble once, annoyed, and he adjusts instantly without even looking, like he already knows exactly where your balance breaks.
âSeriously?â you hiss. âYouâre doing this now?â
âYes,â he says flatly.
âYou canât just abduct your attending in the middle of a shift.â
âI can when sheâs about to drop again in front of Trauma One.â
âThat is notââ He opens a door you didnât even see him key into. On-call room. Small. Dim. Too quiet compared to the screaming outside. He guides you inside and shuts the door behind you. The click of the lock is loud. Final. He draws the curtains shut. For a second, neither of you moves. The room feels wrong in a different wayâno monitors, no alarms, just the hum of the hospital through the walls and the two of you trapped in a space that suddenly feels way too intimate to be professional. You turn on him immediately.
âAre you serious right now?â
âYes.â You stare at him. He stares back. Then he exhales sharply, like heâs been holding his breath for hours and finally gave up.
âSit down.â
âNo.â
âSit,â he repeats, voice lower now. Not loud. Not angry. Final. Something in it makes your irritation falter for half a second.
âI donât needââ
âYou almost face-planted into a hallway cart,â he cuts in. âSo forgive me if I donât trust your assessment right now.â That stings. You hate that it stings.
âI told you Iâm fine.â
âAnd I told you to stop saying that like itâs a magic spell that makes it true.â Silence snaps between you. You cross your arms. He runs a hand over his face, dragging it down like heâs physically trying to keep himself from losing control again. Then, softerâdangerously honest: âDo you have any idea what it looked like?â Your voice drops a fraction.
âNo worse than what we see every day.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âThen what is?â He looks at you. And whatever restraint heâs been clinging to finally slips just enough for you to see whatâs underneath it.
âI thought I was going to lose you in my own department,â he says, quiet and raw. âWhile I was standing ten feet away.â That shuts you up. Not because you donât have a response. Because suddenly you donât trust your voice. Robby steps closer again, slower this time, like heâs approaching something that could still break.
âYou donât get to decide that itâs nothing,â he says. âYou donât get to walk it off because itâs convenient.â Your throat tightens.
âI wasnât trying to make it convenient.â
âThen what were you doing?â he asks immediately. A beat. Your answer comes out smaller than you want it to.
âWorking.â He lets out a humorless breath.
âYeah,â he says. âThatâs what scares me.â You frown slightly.
âWhat?â He looks at you like he regrets the words the second they leave himâbut not enough to take them back.
âThat youâll always pick the job over your own body,â he says. âEven when itâs failing you.â Something shifts in your chest. You donât like how seen that feels. Then he steps right in front of you. Close enough that the air changes. A pause. The hospital noise outside feels miles away. You swallow.
âThis is inappropriate,â you mutter automatically, because your brain is scrambling for something safe to hold onto. His mouth twitches, not quite a smile.
âYeah,â he says. âWe passed that a while ago.â You scoff, backing away from him.
"God, Robby - Why do you care ? I'm an adult, i can handle myself-" He moves with you instantly. Not chasing. Not grabbing. Just⌠matching you step for step until your back meets the wall and thereâs nowhere left for you to retreat without admitting youâre retreating.
âYou call that handling yourself?â he asks quietly. Your jaw tightens.
âI didnât ask for a performance review.â
âIâm not performing,â he says. âIâm telling you you scared the hell out of me.â That lands harder than anything else so far. Because itâs not clinical. Itâs not Dr. Robby. Itâs just him. You force a short laugh, brittle at the edges.
âYou, scared?â you repeat. âYou? You run trauma codes like itâs any other Tuesday and youâre telling me I scared you?â His eyes donât move from yours.
âYes.âSimple. Unapologetic. That shuts you up for half a second too long. Then anger finds its way back inâbecause itâs easier than whatever is sitting underneath it.
âYou donât get to do this,â you say, voice sharper now. âYou donât get to pull me into a room, lock the door, and act likeâlikeââ
âLike what?â he cuts in. You gesture vaguely between you.
âLike this matters more than everything else.â Robby goes still. Thatâs the wrong thing to say. You see it immediately.Something in his expression tightens, like heâs been holding something behind his teeth for too long and you just forced it open.
âIt does,â he says. Quiet. Flat. Absolute. Your breath catches slightly.
âNo, it doesnât,â you say automatically, because thatâs safer.
âIt does to me.â Silence. You stare at him, trying to find the angle where this becomes a misunderstanding you can fix with sarcasm or distance or anything familiar. But there isnât one. Robby exhales through his nose, frustrated nowânot at you, but at himself.
âYou really think Iâd be doing this,â he gestures between you again, sharper this time, âif it didnât matter?â
âYouâre my attending,â you say quickly. He laughs once, humorless.
âThatâs what youâre going with?â
âItâs a boundary.â
âThatâs bullshit and you know it.âYour pulse spikes.
âExcuse me?â Robby steps closer again, and this time you donât move fast enough to stop it.
âYou think I donât know what Iâm doing?â he asks. âYou think I donât know exactly how this looks? How long this has been going on?â Your throat goes tight.
âRobbyââ
âIâve been watching you almost pass out for weeks,â he snaps suddenly, voice rising. âIâve been watching you run yourself into the ground, and I keep telling myself itâs just work, itâs just stress, itâs justââHe stops. Jaw clenches. Then quieter, but sharper somehow: âAnd then you collapse in front of me and I realize I donât care if itâs âappropriateâ anymore.â
Your breath stutters.
âStop,â you whisper.
He shakes his head once.
âNo.â A beat. Then it comes outârough, unplanned, like it slips through a crack he didnât know was there. âI canât do this pretending I donâtââ he cuts off, swallows hard, eyes flicking down for half a second like heâs annoyed at himself for losing control. âI canât stand there and watch you walk yourself into the ground and pretend itâs nothing to me.â Your voice barely works.
âRobbyâŚâ He looks back at you. And whatever restraint he had left finally breaks cleanly.
âIâm in love with you,â he says. No softness. No buildup. Just truth, thrown into the air like itâs been suffocating him. The room goes completely still. Even the hospital noise feels distant now, like itâs happening to someone elseâs life. You donât speak. Not because you donât have words. Because you have too many and none of them fit right. Robby watches your face change like heâs bracing for impact. And then, almost immediately, regret floods in.
âShit,â he says quietly. One step back. âNoâforget I said that.â Your stomach drops. His jaw tightens like heâs trying to physically shove the words back into his chest.
âRobby,â you say, finally. He stops. Doesnât look at you immediately. That alone says everything.
âI didnât mean to make it weird,â he says, almost bitter now, like heâs punishing himself. âI justââ
'Robby."
Venice
Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through his frantic backpedaling like a scalpel. He finally stops, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. He still wonât meet your eyes, staring at a point on the scuffed linoleum floor like it holds the secrets to avoiding this exact moment. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, filled with everything he just said and everything you havenât.
âRobby,â you say again, softer this time. You take a half-step forward, closing the tiny gap heâd created. âLook at me.â He hesitates, a war playing out across his face. The urge to flee warring with the command in your voice. Finally, slowly, he lifts his gaze. The raw vulnerability in his eyes is a punch to the gut. Itâs the same look he had when you were on the floor, but magnified, stripped of all clinical pretense. Itâs just him. Scared. Exposed.
âIâŚâ he starts, then stops, his throat working. âI know I shouldnât have said that. Itâs out of line. Itâsââ You donât let him finish. You surge forward, grabbing the front of his scrub top in both fists and yanking him down to you. The movement is clumsy, desperate. Your mouth crashes against his. Itâs not a kiss of gentle revelation. Itâs a kiss of frustration, of relief, of months of unspoken tension finally detonating. Itâs all teeth and desperate pressure, a clash thatâs been brewing for longer than either of you would admit. He makes a sound against your lips, a harsh, surprised groan, and for a second heâs frozen. Then his hands are on you, not gentle, not asking. One hand clamps onto the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place with a grip thatâs just this side of painful. The other arm bands around your waist, lifting you slightly, pulling you flush against him until thereâs no air, no space, just the frantic hammering of his heart against yours through the thin fabric of your scrubs. You kiss him back with everything you have, pouring all the fear from the hallway, all the annoyance at his overbearing concern, all the traitorous warmth thatâs been pooling in your stomach every time he looks at you for months. You bite his lower lip, hard, and he groans again, deepening the kiss, his tongue claiming yours in a way thatâs possessive and demanding and utterly, completely Robby. He walks you backward, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud that doesnât break the kiss. He pins you there, his body a solid, warm weight, one of his thighs wedging itself between yours. The pressure is intoxicating, a dizzying contrast to the lightheadedness from before. This is a different kind of spinning out of control. One you donât want to stop. His hand slides from your neck down your side, tracing the curve of your ribs before coming to rest on your hip, his thumb digging in, holding you captive. You can feel the frantic, unsteady rhythm of his breathing, a mirror to your own. He finally breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. Both of you are breathing hard, chests heaving. The room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths and the distant, muffled hum of the hospital that feels worlds away.
âChrist,â he rasps, his voice thick and wrecked. His eyes are still closed, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just below your ear, and a shiver runs through you. âYou canât⌠you canât just do that.â
âYouâre the one who said you were in love with me,â you manage to get out, your voice shaky. âAnd then tried to take it back.â
âI wasnât taking it back,â he says, lifting his head. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with a mix of adrenaline and something else, something hungry. âI was trying not to fuck everything up.â
âToo late for that,â you breathe, and then youâre kissing him again. Itâs just as rough as before, maybe rougher. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your back, your sides, gripping your ass and pulling you harder against him. The wall is hard and unyielding at your back, and heâs solid and unyielding at your front, and youâre trapped in the best possible way. He rolls his hips against yours, a slow, deliberate grind that sends a bolt of heat straight through you, and you gasp into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to kiss a trail down your jaw, his scruff scraping deliciously against your skin. He nips at your collarbone, his hand sliding up under your scrub top, his palm hot and firm against the bare skin of your stomach.
âRobby,â you pant, your head falling back against the wall as his mouth finds that spot on your neck that makes your knees weak. âWeâre⌠weâre in the on-call room.â
âMhmm,â he murmurs against your skin, not stopping. âLocked the door.â His thumb brushes against the underside of your breast, and you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. He chuckles, a low, smug sound that vibrates through you. âSomeone could knock.â
âDonât care,â you gasp, as his other hand tugs your scrub top out of your pants, his fingers finding the waistband of your pants. âGod, donât stop.â He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. Thereâs a question there, a final check-in, but itâs buried under layers of raw want. You answer it by grabbing his hand and guiding it further down. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief, and then his mouth is on yours again. He tastes like burnt coffee and the faint metallic tang of hospital air, but thereâs something else, something bitter and sweet and rawly, desperately Robby that makes you want to climb inside his chest and break his ribs open from the inside. His hand is already down the front of your scrubs, palm hot against your hipbone, fingers trembling just enough to betray everything he wonât say aloud. You fumble at the drawstring on your own waistband, frustration clawing up your throat in a low, angry whine when the knot wonât loosen fast enough. You stare up at himâmess of dark hair, sweat on his brow, pupils wide enough to swallow the brownâand wonder absently if this is what it feels like to code. For a minute nobody says anything. You just breathe, harsh and hungry and desperate, noisy enough that if anybody is in the hallway theyâd know exactly what was happening in here. Itâs Robby that breaks first. He makes a strangled sound, forehead dropping to yours, so hard your noses smashed together. His voice comes out low and shredded and nearly begging.
âYou gotta let me know if you want me to stop.â
You donât.
Fuck, you donât.
You want him to break you down to single-celled organisms. you turn your head and bite the meat of his bicep, just to feel him jerk.
âShut up and do it, then,â You mutter. Your hands drop around his shoulders, pulling him down, and the next kiss is more teeth than lips. You donât even notice his other hand has made it to your waistband until you feel the cool slide of his hand against your skin. Youâre so far gone, you donât even feel the fear or shame anyone normal would. Canât bring yourself to care that youâre half-pinned to a drywall partition and the edge of a cot, moaning into your supervisorâs mouth like youâre both undergrad idiots caught in a blackout at frat formal. His hand is relentless, moving fast and clever, not even bothering to be delicate. You nearly lose your balance when he presses a thumb down just right over your scrubs, and your center of gravity hops about a foot left.
âFuckâRobby, fuckââ You hiss it against his jawline, legs starting to shake. He gets a hand under your thigh, hefts it up, then hooks your knee on his belt so all you can do is hang there and let him wreck you. Somewhere in the back of your awareness youâre listing all the ways this is the worst idea youâve ever had, but your body refuses to stop. Heâs cursing too, breathing your name into your neck, voice so rough you can feel it vibrating in his chest. You want to put a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet but you know if anyone comes in, youâre both dead anyway. He fumbles at the drawstring with clumsy, single-handed urgency, finally manages to get it untied. The relief when his fingers actually slide past the waistband is so intense your vision goes white at the edges. He doesnât even teaseâjust buries his hand against you and makes a noise so dark and satisfied it spikes something hot and relentless at the base of your spine.
âJesus Christ,â he mutters. âYouâre fucking soaked.â He says it like he means it as both a compliment and a diagnosis. Then he pushes his palm harder against you, finding every sensitive spot and working you with unerring, almost clinical precision, like heâs taking inventory of every way you can be taken apart. Your head thunks back against the wall with a little hollow sound. You want to tell him to stop, or slow down, or just breathe for maybe two seconds, but you donât. You canât. Instead you let yourself fall open and let him see it. The fact that youâre wrapped this tightly around him is not new information, but thisâexposed, desperateâis a new evolutionary stage. He leans in, mouth back on yours, and you taste sweat, salt, and faint chemical hospital on his skin. The wall is cold at your back and his hand is molten at your front and your whole body is nothing but contrast and overload and hunger. You barely register your own hands, but theyâre on him, pulling up the hem of his shirt, searching for bare skin, something to ground yourself. You feel the heat of him even through layers, alive and pulsing and real. He holds you still, fingers working in brutal, short pulses, driving you mercilessly toward the edge. Itâs not careful. Itâs not gentle. Itâs like heâs making a point. Like heâs proving to you, to himself, to God, that youâre not going to scare him off, not ever. You come like a detonation. It rips through you so hard your vision whites out again and you clench around his hand. He groans, slowly slipping his fingers out of you before taking a step back away from your and pulling down your scrub pants. You gulp as you watch him undo the drawstring on his own pants, your mouth watering with need. The cold air against your exposed cunt is making you clench involuntarily, and the only thing you want right now is to have him inside of you. He pulls his pants down, only enough to free himself, and the air feels like itâs knocked out of your chest. His cock slaps up against his stomach, flushed dark, thick and heavy with blood, and the sight alone is enough to make you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation, shivering even though the room is sweltering. He spits in his palm, slicks himself, then walks over to you. His hands hook beneath your thighs and you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses you against the wall. He pushes your hair back from your face, kisses your nose. He doesnât waste a second. The first thrust is brutal, messy, all pent-up frustration and months of not acting on impulse. Heâs thickâbigger than youâd let yourself admit in all those late-night, shamefaced fantasiesâand the stretch steals the air from your lungs. Your jaw drops open, eyes rolling back as you lock on to the faces heâs making: mouth slack, eyebrows knit, a bead of sweat at his temple that you want to lick off more than you want to live. Heâs got both hands under your ass, fingers digging hard enough to bruise, holding you up so all you can do is take it. And you do, with everything you have, bearing down on him so you can feel every inch, every twitch. He huffs a shaky, humorless laugh, the kind you only make when youâre so overwhelmed you canât do anything else.
âYou okay ?â He rasps, kissing his way up your neck. The sound that comes out of you isnât even a word. He pounds into you with another deep, brutal stroke and your body locks up so tight youâre glad heâs the one holding you or youâd have fallen flat. Every thrust slams your spine into the drywall and it should hurt, it should, but all you can do is claw at his shirt, nails catching the rough cotton, dragging it up over his ribs so you can feel himâreal, alive, so much hotter than any fever youâve ever run in the hospital. The slap of skin, the hiss of your breathing, the mangled noises youâre makingâall of it so loud, vulgar, so perfectly, awfully public even behind the locked door. Heâs whispering shit into your neck. At first you think itâs curse words, but then you catch your own name buried in there, and then more, like instructions, like hymns.
âYouâre fucking perfect,â he says, the words punching out of him like heâs angry about it. âGod, youâre unreal.â His hips snap again, harder, and your shoulders knock back against the wall, sharp bite of drywall dust filling your nose. Each time he thrusts in, your vision smears around the edges, the pleasure so hot it borders on pain. It isnât like you pictured, not reallyâitâs better. The angle, the rush, the way he bullies all the air out of your lungs with every movement. Your hands are in his hair, clawing tight, pulling him down so you can mouth at his neck, take the taste of him into yourself. He shoves your scrubs up higher, rough hands leaving trails of heat on cold skin, then fists one hand in the fabric at your shoulder, pinning you harder to the cinderblock. There is nothing gentle, nothing careful, nothing but his body taking yours apart, and yours letting him, wild for it. He keeps muttering, a string of filthy reverence against your ear:
âCanât believe itâs you, canât believe you let meâfuck, youâre soâJesus, clench again, just like thatââ The words run together, get lost under the wet slap of skin and the broken sounds youâre making. You canât answer except to dig your heels into his lower back, desperate to keep him as close as possible, to force him deeper, to make certain itâs real. This has to be real. For months you both acted like this wasnât going to happen, like you didnât live your whole life in inches, waiting for the day the rules would break and youâd get to see what would actually happen if you let go. Now youâre against the wall, and heâs inside of you raw and fast and a little bit mean, and every expectation is dissolving in a haze of salt and friction and heat. You want to tell him he can do anything to you, that there is nothing off-limits, but all that comes out is a shattered little whine, just his name, again and again. He bites your collarbone, sucks a mark there, and the pain is almost enough to bring you back down, but youâre already spiraling. Robbyâs voice is a chant in your ear, weirdly reverent, filthy and devotional all at once. Heâs running hot, sweat trickling down his neck, the muscles in his forearms taut as bowed steel where he brackets your hips. Each thrust slams you against the wall hard enough to rattle the fluorescent hum down to your teeth. You know youâll have drywall dust embedded under your nails, maybe even in your hair, but you canât bring yourself to care. Your world is reduced to the vicious, deliberate drag of his cock inside you, the scratch of his stubble jaw against your cheek, the gasp-and-hitch cadence of your own lungs. His hand slips, finds your jaw, thumb prying your mouth open.
âLook at me,â he grates. Itâs not a request. You do, eyelids dragging heavy, drool stringing from your lips. He shoves his thumb inside and you clamp down on it, tongue greedy, and watch his resolve ripple and snap at the edges. âFuck, you love this,â he hisses. A hot, shameful thrill blooms in your gut. You canât even nod; your brainâs gone chemical, all instinct and nerve and the urge to let him ruin you properly. He pulls his thumb free from your teeth, then brings his hand back to grip your jaw, rough, almost cruel.
âYou gonna come for me like this?â His pelvis snaps up, grinding you against concrete. âYou gonna soak me, right here, where anybody could walk in?â He means it as a threat, but the promise makes something deep in you uncurl and spiral tight. You dig your nails into his back and feel the give of his skin, the helpless rocking of your own hips. Youâre close againâembarrassingly, stupidly fastâand he can tell, because he starts fucking you even meaner, chasing the edge with all the subtlety of a gunshot.
âJesus,â he says, âyou feel so good, I canâtâfuck. I canât stop.â Like heâs ever going to. You snarl something incoherent, probably his name, and you feel the tension crest, shatter, and pour out in waves so intense you lose track of your own body. Robby keeps moving, not letting up for a second. Everythingâs too much: the raw thud of your shoulderblades grinding cinderblock, the way your ankles have locked behind his back, the friction and heat and static spit-glue between your skin. You try to tell him youâre gonna lose it but only manage a wild, choked keening that doesnât sound like it could belong to you. He drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping, and groans your name so low and honest it makes your toes curl. There is nothing in the world but this. Nothing but him pinning you, holding you, fucking you like heâs lost count of where the rest of the world even is. Your hands are in his hair, wrenching, and you yank his head up so you can bite at his bottom lip. He lets you, gives a little gasp, then locks eyes with you and pours all that manic, frantic reverence right into the next kiss, mouthing at your skin and then burying his face in your neck like heâs drowning. The pace gets relentlessâbody-shocking, staccato, sharp even through the haze of it. He fucks through your aftershocks as if itâs a challenge, like the goal is to keep your body from ever regaining equilibrium. When you come again itâs so loud youâre sure the ward must hear; he clamps his hand over your mouth, eyes blown so scared and wild, but the pulse of his cock inside you says heâs not really trying to stop you so much as channel every iota of your body back into his. His own rhythm gets jerky, sloppier, and his mouth drops open against your jaw as he pins you tight and starts to lose it.
âFuck, oh fuck, gonnaââ His body locks, hips jammed flush against you, and you feel him pulse hard, the warmth spilling inside you like heâs pumping more heat into an already-overloaded core. Heâs breathless, shaking, still pressed in deep as if he canât trust gravity to hold you together otherwise. You stay like that, tangled, your cunt still rippling around him, both gulping at the hot, sick air, until your numb legs make you both slide down the wall in a graceless heap.
Youâre both wrecked. Sweaty and glassy-eyed, scrub shirts sweat-stuck to your ribs, bodies still twitching in the late echoes of what the fuck just happened. Thereâs a sheet of drywall dust on your back and your own fingernail crescented into his skin; heâs smiling, shit-eating, delirious, and youâd punch him if you werenât still shaking like a defibrillator just went off under your sternum.
He leans in, a gentle press of lips to your forehead, and you want to tell yourself itâs just an autonomic reaction, that the only thing happening here is a literal pressure release after months of idiotic, unyielding need. But you know better. The way he holds your face, the way he says your name soft into your hair, the way heâs stillâstillâinside you, hips slotted to hips, like he canât bear to break the circuit.
You roll your head to stare at him. He meets your gaze, a thundercrack of worry, awe, and something else you donât have the energy to name. You want to say something pointed and clever, but you canât ; all you manage is a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a whimper.
It should be awkward.
It should be so fucking awkward.
He kisses your face as he slips out of you and shoves himself back inside his pants before dropping you slowly to the floor, hands braced at your waist as your legs wobble. He slips your own pants and underwear back up your thighs, looking up at you.
âYou okay ?â He asks, his voice soft.
âYeah,â you say, and itâs weird, how true it is. You blink, vision still dazzled and dopplered, and catch Robbyâs hand trembling where it rests on your hip. The shake is microscopic, like a skipped frame in film, but itâs there, and itâs only then you realize youâre vibrating too. You try to laugh, and the sound cracks, warbles, but he mirrors it, leaning in until your foreheads tap, bone on bone. He smells like fresh sweat and latex and the antiseptic tang of someone whoâs spent an entire adulthood hunched over sterile trays. He rubs his thumb slow circles at your waist, and the gentleness is so unexpected, so at odds with the way he just had you, that you almost start crying on the spot. You swallow it back and close your hand over his, try to will him not to let go just yet. You listen together to the radiators pop and the wild rattle of your pulse. He keeps his head dipped, mouth resting on the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. Neither of you moves. Heâs still breathing you in, slow, like heâs afraid if he does it too fast, itâll all be over.
âDidnât hurt you, did I?â he whispers, so low you almost miss it beneath the thonk of your heart in your ears. You want to make a joke, something flippant, but youâre too raw. It all comes out honest, whether you like it or not.
âNo. You couldâve hurt me more.â The silence after feels like a dropped glass; sharp, fragile, ready to split the air. Robby closes his eyes. You see every microflinch, the way his throat sticks around the swallow, how he steadies himself before answering.
ââKay. Justââ He hesitates, and you sense itâs the kind of pause heâd usually grease over with a quip. Not now. Now heâs counting on you to stay, just a little, and not run. âIâll be gentle next time. Or not. Whatever you want.â He tries to smile, but it turns lopsided, uncertain. You grab him by the collar, tug him in for a kiss thatâs less a collision and more a hinge opening, slow, like letting light into a dark corridor. You can taste the apology before he says it. You hate that you love it. Robby pulls away, eyes shiny in the half-light. He nudges your nose with his, then plants a kiss at the corner of your mouth, softer than anything heâs ever done. It feels as reverent as a benediction.
âYou should lie down,â he says. âYour legs areââ he gestures with a shrug, then glances down and grins sheepish. âSorta toast.â
âMy legs are awesome, thank you,â you say, but you lean your full weight into him anyway, allowing yourself to be steered to the bed. He maneuvers you down with surprising care, one arm looped around your back, the other smoothing your hair off your sweaty forehead. He smiles down at you, sighing.
âIâll go get you some saline. You are on bedrest for the next two hours.â You frown, gasping.
âOh you devious fuckwad.â You mutter. "This was your plan all along.' You grumble.
"No." He says, and then winces. "Okay. Maybe. I was initially planning to just lock you in here.. I didn't play on telling you I love you and coming inside you. That... was a slight hitch in my plan." You roll your eyes.
"You're an asshole."
"An asshole who doesn't want you to run yourself into the ground." He mutters, brushing your hair away from your face. You sigh annoyedly.
"Fine. You win. Two hours." Robby grins, triumphant.
"Ah. Look who finally is listening to reason." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'll go get the Saline from Perlah. Don't move." You roll your eyes, swatting at him.
"Ha-Ha."
âAnd water. And probably something vaguely edible that passes for food in this place.â You reach out and catch his wrist before he can leave. He stops instantly.
âRobby.â
âYeah?â You look at him for a secondâreally look. Tired. Stressed. Still half in doctor mode even after everything. And completely, unapologetically here.
âI love you too,â you say quietly. Something in his expression breaks open again. Itâs not dramatic.Itâs worse than that. Itâs steady.
"I know.â You let go of his wrist. He holds your gaze one more second, then forces himself to moveâbecause he still knows how to function even when his entire emotional life is on fire. The hallway is chaos again the second Robby steps out. Heâs halfway to the supply station when he sees him. Abbot. Clocking in. Standing dead still. Staring straight at the on-call room door like heâs just witnessed a miracle or a crime or both. Robby doesnât even slow down. He walks past him, grabs the saline bags, and says flatly, without looking up:
âYou owe Dana a hundred bucks.â Abbot blinks.
A beat. Abbot stares at the door again. Then lets out a long, defeated breath.
Summary: Jack continues to push off the idea of having children and you start to wonder whether or not he still wants to be with you.
CW: Angst. Hurt/comfort. Worries of not being enough. Age gap between reader and Jack that starts to get in the way of their relationship. Talks of wanting to start a family.
WC: 2872
Author's Note: I have another Jack fic lined up that I hope will be even more angsty than this one that I literally wrote this because I'm so excited for the other one. I was inspired by this @eternalabbot's text fic (3rd and 4th slides) and this kinda just came out, Please go check out her blog, I lovee text fics!! As always, I hope you enjoy. My inbox is always open, I love hearing what you guys have to sayđ
(I do NOT give anyone consent to use/publish my work. Any copying or translating of my writing is considered plagiarism. If you come across my work on any other site or app, please let me know and report them as well)
You were at home scrolling through Instagram waiting for Jack to get off shift when you come across one of the cutest videos you've ever seen. It was a little baby sitting on their mother's lap laughing their head off as the mom made a fake sneezing sound. You feel as though your heart was going to burst out of your chest with how strong your baby fever was.
You and Jack have been together for over a year and a half and the conversation of children is one you've been circling back to time and time again. From the very start of your relationship, you made it clear to Jack that marriage and children was what you wanted. Knowing that Jack was a widower, you were afraid that he wouldn't want to go through the whole marriage thing all over again but you were pleasantly surprised to find out that Jack was pretty open to the idea; granted that it would be further in the future.
When you and Jack first got together, there was quite a bit of hesitation on his part considering you are so much younger than he is. When you first met, you were an intern on the day shift and instantly developed a crush on the veteran night shift attending. Though you didn't see much of Jack back then working different shifts, that all changed when you switched over to nights during your second year. You both hit it off right away and you weren't shy about your feelings for Jack. You knew he felt the same way so you figured why not go big or go home. It took a couple months to wear him down but the moment Jack realized that his feelings for you weren't going away either, he finally asked you out which you answered with an emphatic yes.
Now, all of this time later, you and Jack were in a serious, committed relationship and you were slightly itching for the next step. Not that you are wanting to force or hurry Jack along, but you hoped that in the next little while, the two of you could lay out some plans as to what your future would look like. Up to now, most of the talk has been hypothetical or fleeting, never really getting past the surface. But with your friends and families your age starting to settle down, get married, and have babies, you are wanting to have the same too.
Quickly downloading the video to your phone, you open your text messages with Jack to send it to him.
You: Oh my goodness. Jack, look at this. Is this not the cutest thing ever??!!! (link)
It didn't surprise you that it took him a few minutes to respond, likely caught up in a trauma or consult.
Jackđ: That is pretty cute
You: Right!?
You: I kinda want one đ
Jackđ: Haha very funny sweetheart
You: I'm not kidding. Our babies would be so cute!!
Jackđ: Sweetie...
Jackđ: You know it's not that simple.
His response made you pause, unsure of what he meant.
You: What do you mean by that?
Jackđ: You know what I mean honey
You: No Jack, I don't. That's why I'm asking.
Jackđ: Okay, this is a bigger conversation for a later time. I don't want to do this over text. Can we just put a pin on it for now?
You: We're talking about this when you get home.
You put your phone down with a huff. You understand that talking about children is a pretty serious conversation but you're upset that Jack took your lighthearted comment and turned it into something it wasn't. You knew that you needed to talk but the tone of his message made something inside of you twist, a sudden anxiety over the topic making you feel uneasy.
~~~~~~~~
It was another hour before Jack walked through the door and found you sitting on the couch with your back turned to him. Usually, you would be up and hurriedly making your way over to greet him with a hug and a kiss, asking him how his shift went. Now, you stayed firmly sat on the couch and heard Jack huff as he set his things down and made his way over to you.
Turning your head to look over at Jack, you could see how weighed down he looked; his hair unruly like he'd be running his hands through it and his eyes a little more sunken in than usual. Whether it was because of work or this conversation, all you wanted was to just curl up against Jack's chest and hold him, but you both knew you needed to talk.
"So" you started, "let's talk."
Jack let out a breath before meeting your eye, "Sweetheart, I know we've talked about getting married and I do want that with you, but I just think that having children would be too much right now" he explained, the nervousness obvious in his voice.
You angled yourself more towards him, "so let me get this straight, you want to get married, but you don't want to have kids? Jack, I told you from the very start of our relationship that I--"
"That's not what I'm saying" he cuts you off, "I do want kids, just not anytime soon."
"But why Jack? You're not getting any younger, I want you to be able to enjoy fatherhood and play with our kids."
"That's exactly why" Jack's voice raises as he says it, "I'm not young anymore, not like you."
This confuses you even more. You can see the frustration building with the way Jack's shoulders tighten and how he grinds his teeth together. Suddenly Jack gets up and starts pacing in front of you.
"I'm worried alright" Jack sighs, "Worried that one day you might change your mind about us but a kid won't just go away"
You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "and marriage wouldn't make me just as committed to you?" you ask incredulously.
"It's different" Jack snapped, "people get divorced all the time but a baby makes you tied to me forever."
You saw the defeated look in his eyes as he finally turned to look at you again, "Jack, I don't understand, do you not trust me?"
Jack slowly made his way over to you again, but this time he dropped to his knees in front of you and held both of your hands in his.
"I do trust you honey, and I know you love me, but sometimes I just get so in my head and insecure because I know you can do so much better than me--"
"No I can't Jack--"
"Let me finish" he shushed you, "I know it might not make a lot of sense right now, and it sounds like I'm not serious about us but I want you to know that I am but I just need some time to work through these fears before stepping in that direction with you. When we have a kid, I want to be a hundred percent ready and not scared out of my mind. Can we do that, please?"
Your head felt like static from everything that was said, "Jack, you know I love you more than anything right? That I could never imagine myself being with anyone else" you whisper.
"I know" Jack mumbled, "I'm just scared and-" he paused slightly while looking away, "I just need time."
You felt yourself nodding along but really in your mind you were somewhere far away. This whole night turned into something so different than what you thought it would be that you just wanted it to be over, just wanted this conversation to be done. The rest of the night, you felt as though you were moving on autopilot, going through the motions of your routine but your mind was running a hundred miles an hour. As you and Jack lay side by side in bed, you couldn't help but wonder how much longer you were going to have to wait.
~~~~~~~~
It was another three months before the subject of children was brought up again. You and Jack were invited to your friend's baby shower for tonight and you'd hoped that this event would get Jack thinking in that direction again.
You were standing side by side as your friend and her husband cut the little cake with blue frosting inside. Everyone cheered as the couple laughed and hugged each other and you couldn't help but look at Jack in that moment. He looked to be enjoying himself and happy, smiling along as other people congratulated the couple; but most of all Jack looked calm and content, that is, until you opened your mouth.
"Makes you think huh?" You teased lightly. Immediately, you felt the way Jack tensed under your arm that was wrapped around him. It was like your little bubble of peace had been popped and a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you. You saw the forced little smile Jack gave you while his eyes seemed far away.
It was in that moment that you felt as though everything you'd been building together was starting to come apart. You don't know how much longer you could wait for Jack to get over his fear of you leaving him when all you've tried to do was show him how devoted you were to your relationship. You don't want to seem cruel, you understood to an extent what Jack was going through. There were definitely points in your relationship where you'd wondered if Jack would prefer to be with someone closer to his age who could understand life the way he does, but that was early in your relationship. Now, almost two years together, you were starting to wonder if Jack will ever get to that place, where he was at peace with your relationship or, and it was a thought that was starting to seem more and more true, whether Jack just didn't want to get there at all.
It was like a switch being flipped and you felt the need to pull back, to get away, and build your walls back up. If Jack was just looking for a way out, you would make it easier for him by walking away first.
~~~~~~~~
It started off small, with little changes to your routine that allowed you to create some distance without triggering any alarm bells. First, you started waking up before Jack, stating how you wanted to get a head start on your getting ready routine so that you wouldn't be in such a rush to leave. Then came going to and from work separately, you waved it off by saying how it was much more efficient that way so that if either of you had chores or things you wanted to do you didn't have to wait for the other. Then suddenly, you stopped sharing meals with Jack at work, munching on snacks throughout the night so that whenever Jack asked if you wanted to grab a bite, you wouldn't technically be lying when you said you weren't hungry. The biggest change though was when you started moving some of your things around. You had moved into Jack's house around a year into dating and your lives have been strongly intertwined since then. Now, you've slowly started gathering your things together, moving them to more "convenient" places so that if the time came, it would be easier to grab things and go.
You thought that you were being slick about it, that all of these little changes were going by unnoticed but Jack Abbot noticed everything, especially when it came to you. It was about a month of you doing this before Jack finally confronted you about it. You had just walked into the house after a run when you spotted Jack sitting on the couch with his back to you. It felt eerily similar to your conversation just four months ago. You tried to be nonchalant as you came in, greeting Jack and intending to walk past the living room into the kitchen but Jack calling for you to come sit stopped you in your tracks.
You made your way over, slowly easing yourself down on the other side of the couch. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before Jack spoke.
"I think you and I need to talk about something" he said quietly.
This was it, you thought. Jack was going to break up with you. No amount of preparation could truly ready your heart for what was about to happen and you could already feel the lump growing in the back of your throat.
When you don't reply, Jack shakes his head from its hanging position, "you're leaving me, aren't you?"
That made you pause, "What? No I'm not" you answer in a daze.
"Yes you are. This was exactly what I was worried about, you don't think I don't see the way you're pulling away from me?" Jack says, the hurt evident in his voice.
"Only because I was preparing myself for when you inevitably break up with me."
"What?" The look on Jack's face was incredulous, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Oh please Jack, we both know that between the two of us, you're the one with one foot out the door" you reply exasperatedly.
Jack shook his head but before he could respond, you beat him to it. "After our talk about having children, I figured fine, you just needed some time to think and now that you knew how I felt, we would start building our future together. But after the baby shower, and how you clammed up at even the thought of us having kids, I realized, maybe it was never about you feeling insecure about our age difference, but really you just realized that you don't actually want a life with me anymore and that if you push and make me wait long enough, I'll decide that I'm done so that you never have to break up with me cause it would have been my choice. Well, there you go Jack, you've done it, I've reached that point because I don't know how much more I can prove to you that I love you and that I want this life with you and no one else and that you're it for me. I'm done, I can't take it anymore."
You're full on sobbing by the time you finish. Unable to look at him any longer, you pull your knees up to your chest and curl in on yourself; you feel as though your heart was actually physically breaking. You felt the couch dip before Jack's arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling you into his lap as he rocked and comforted you.
You stayed in that position for a long time before finally looking up and facing Jack. He also had tears streaming down his face as he unhooked one arm from around you in order to cup the side of your face.
"Sweetheart, I am so so sorry for ever making you feel this way, you know that was never my intention."
You tried to look away from his intense gaze but Jack just guided you back to him, "When I saw the way you were pulling back I thought, this was it, you'd realized that you didn't want to be with me anymore, not that you thought I didn't love you anymore because that couldn't be further from the truth. I love you with everything that I have, I wouldn't know how to go on without you. I see now that I was letting my fear get in the way of our relationship and that I was the one causing the thing I was so afraid of. I don't want to lose you, I can't lose you honey. So please, if I'm not too late, forgive me."
You took a moment before responding to him, "You have to believe me when I say I want you Jack. That I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm an adult who can make my own choices and I choose to be here with you."
Jack nodded along to everything you said, "I know honey, I know that hundred percent now. I can't promise that I won't ever get scared, but I'm done letting it get in the way of our plans. I want our future to start right now, not in a few years, or months, or even days, right now" Jack smiled.
You couldn't help but return his smile. Slowly, you leaned in and kissed him and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.
"Well, we can't really decide when that happens. But we can definitely start trying" you giggle.
"Oh, no it's happening tonight" Jack mused, his regular smug attitude returning. "My girl wants a baby, so she's getting one right now"
You couldn't help the yelp and laugh that came out of you as Jack lifted you up in his arms, peppering your face with kisses as he promised to make your plans a reality.
SUMMARY: You think that youâre doing an excellent job at keeping yours and Jackâs little secret. And you are! But, when you take a hit at work, a routine question asked by Mel reveals your precious little thing. An excited Mel and Langdon is an unstoppable force, and within the hour, you are faced with more congratulations than you know what to do with.
NOTES: Established relationship, pregnant!reader, shy!reader, protective!Jack, aggressive patient, injury (head impact), fear of baby injury (baby is fine!), mild hurt/comfort, very excited hospital staff.
NAVIGATION | PITT MASTERLIST | KO-FI
The secret that you are hiding matters more than most. It sits under your ribs, fragile and glowing, feeling both impossibly real and not quite real at all.
You have told Jack. He had gone very still when you said it, you do not think you have ever seen vulnerability so blatantly on him before. He had not said much at first. He had just pulled you close, one hand steady at the back of your neck, like he needed to ground himself in the fact of you.
Since then, that secret has been yours. Yours and Jackâs. A small, private thing in the middle of everything else.
Work has not changed. You still move through the department with quiet confidence, and a steady rhythm that people rely on. You are careful in ways no one else notices. A step slower when you need to be. A little more aware of where you stand, of what you carry, of how close people get.
But, you know that work does not change for anyone, and, as always, shift change brings chaos.
The overlap between day and night feels like a collision in itself, information flying back and forth, voices overlapping. You are halfway through handing over a patient when the incident happens, your focus split between your notes and the questions being thrown at you by a new, sweet trainee that you have all the time in the world for.
There is shouting from down the corridor. You register it distantly at first, the way you always do, filtering what matters and what doesnât. Then it gets closer, too close for comfort, if anything.
You turn instinctively, your body already shifting before your brain has caught up, just in time to see the patient being pulled back by security, just in time to realise they are not fully restrained yet.
Just in time for them to lunge.
It is sudden, messy, all uncoordinated force and misplaced intent. They did not mean to hit you, but that doesnât matter. The impact is enough. You stumble, your foot catching awkwardly against a trolley behind you, balance gone. The world tilts sharply, your centre of gravity shifting too fast for you to correct.
You hit the floor hard. Your shoulder takes most of it. Your head follows. There is a sharp crack of pain, bright and immediate, blooming at the back of your skull. For a second, everything goes white. Then sound rushes back in all at once.
âHey! Step back!â
âCareful!â
âAre you alright?!â
Hands reach for you, voices overlapping, the chaos tightening into something sharper. You blink, your vision swimming slightly, the white ceiling above you too bright, too close.
âIâm fine,â you say automatically. Your voice sounds distant. Wrong.
âYou hit your head,â someone says.
You tilt just enough to see Mel and Langdon lowering down next to you. If the grimaces on their faces are anything to go by, youâre probably not in a great position.
âIâm fine,â you repeat, trying to push yourself up.
A hand presses gently against your shoulder, stopping you. âTake it easy,â Mel says, her voice firm but calm. âStay down for just a second.â
âIâm okay,â you insist, even as your head throbs in time with your pulse, even as the edges of your vision flicker in a way you do not like.
Your hand drifts, almost unconsciously, to your abdomen. It is instinctive, but you freeze. No one notices, or at least, you hope they do not.
âTook a bit of a tumble there. Letâs get you up slowly,â Langdon says, already crouching beside you. âNo rush, you know the drill.â
Said âdrillâ isnât quite coming to you, you find. Even so, you nod, wincing as the movement makes the world tilt again, nausea rising faintly in your throat.
âI can walk,â you say, quieter now.
âYeah,â Mel replies, not entirely convinced. âI mean, I donât think you should. But, okay, weâll try.â
They help you sit first, one hand steady at your back, another at your arm. The room shifts but does not spin, which feels like a small mercy.
âWhere does it hurt?â she asks.
âMy head,â you admit.
âAnywhere else?â
You hesitate, focus stuck on the tiny life inside of you, that precious little secret. You know Jack is near, you know how to use an ultrasound machine. You choose to revel in secrecy a little while longer.
âNo. Just my head.â
You let them help you to your feet, your balance returning slowly, carefully.
âIâm okay,â you say again.
Mel gives you a look. âWe will be the judges of that,â she replies.
You open your mouth to argue. Then you catch sight of Jack.
Jack stands just beyond the cluster of people, his posture too still, his expression locked down in that way that means he is holding something back. His gaze is fixed on you, sharp and assessing, already cataloguing every detail, every shift, every sign that something might be wrong.
You swallow. Jack does not move closer immediately, he waits and watches, clinging onto the scrap of professionalism thatâs stopping him from lunging at the patient and then whisking you home immediately after.
âCome on,â Mel says, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. âLetâs get you somewhere quieter.â
Langdon stays close on your other side, his presence steady, reassuring in a way that does not feel overwhelming. The walk is short, but it feels longer, each step a careful reminder that your body is not entirely under your control right now.
Jack falls into step behind you, just close enough so that you know he is there.
You are settled onto the bed in one of the exam rooms, the door closing behind you, cutting off the worst of the noise from outside.
âAlright,â Mel says, already moving through the motions, checking your pupils, your responses, her touch professional and precise. âAny dizziness? Nausea?â
âA bit,â you admit.
âVision?â
âBlurry for a second. Itâs better now.â
Langdon hums quietly, making a note.
âAny loss of consciousness?â
âNo.â
âGood.â
You exhale slowly, your hands curling slightly against the edge of the bed. You can feel Jackâs presence more acutely in here, contained space making everything sharper, closer. You do not look at him. Not yet.
Melissa pauses for a second, her expression shifting slightly as she considers something.
Then, casually, like it is nothing more than routine, she asks, âAny chance you might be pregnant?â
The world stops. Your heart stutters, breath catching in your throat. You had prepared for a lot of things, and this was always going to be one of them. You just had not expected it to happen like this.
You glance up. Jack is already looking at you, he does not say anything. The question hangs in the air, waiting.
You swallow. âYeah,â you say quietly. âThere is.â
Subtly, but unmistakably, like the room has tilted on a different axis, like everything has just been rearranged without anyone moving. You feel it immediately, that change in the air, that quiet pause where the words settle in and take shape.
Mel stares at you.
Not in a way that feels clinical or detached, not in the way she had been just seconds before, but in a way that is wide and bright and just a little bit disbelieving.
âWait,â she says, her voice softer now, like she is trying not to startle the moment into disappearing. âThere is? You⌠youâre, um, what?â
You nod, your hands curling tighter into the thin blanket beneath you, your face already warm, already betraying you in the way it always does when attention shifts too sharply in your direction.
âYeah,â you repeat, quieter this time. âI am.â
Langdon makes a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and something far more delighted.
âNo way,â he says, his grin immediate, unfiltered. âYouâre serious?â
You nod again, unable to quite find anything else to say.
It feels strange, saying it out loud like this, in a room that smells faintly of antiseptic and hospital linen, under fluorescent lights that are far too bright for something that feels this soft, this private. It feels like handing something fragile over to the world and hoping it is treated gently.
Mel lets out a small, breathless laugh, one hand coming up to grasp Langdonâs forearm in sheer joy for a just second before she drops it, eyes still fixed on you.
âOh my gosh,â she says, grinning so wide that you just know her cheeks ache. âWhy didnât you say anything?â
âI was going to,â you reply, your voice small despite your best efforts. âI just hadnât yet.â
âI mean, yeah, no. That is not a small thing to just mention,â she says, but there is no judgement in it, only warmth, excitement bubbling just under the surface.
You risk a glance at Jack. He is standing in the same place, still quiet, still composed on the outside, but there is something in his expression now that was not there before. Something softer, something almost openly proud in a way that makes your chest ache.
âYou knew?â Langdon asks, looking between the two of you.
Jack nods once, a smile finally tugging at his lips. âYeah. I mean, this would be a pretty lousy way to find out.â
âAnd you didnât say anything either?â
âIt wasnât mine to say.â
The simplicity of it lands somewhere deep.
Mel exhales sharply, shaking her head slightly like she is trying to process it all at once.
âOkay,â she says, snapping back into something more clinical, more grounded, even if the smile is still there, tugging at the corners of her mouth. âRight. That changes things slightly.â
Your stomach flips.
âIs everything okay?â you ask quickly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your earlier calm slipping under the weight of something sharper, more fragile.
Jack shifts at that, just slightly, his attention sharpening further. He walks over, sitting on the bed next to you. A hand instinctively moves to your hip, thumb running soothing circles against it, conscious of the tiny life that is not far from it.
Melâs expression softens immediately. âPlease try not to worry,â she says gently. âWeâre just being careful. Thatâs all. You hit your head, so weâre going to do everything properly, make sure you and the baby are okay. Youâve done this before, you know how it works.â
The baby. Hearing it like that, said so easily, so naturally, makes something in your chest tighten and expand all at once.
âOkay,â you whisper.
Langdon is already moving, grabbing what he needs, his earlier excitement now tucked under a layer of professional focus that does not quite hide the grin still lingering on his face.
âThis is great,â he mutters, almost to himself. âThis is actually great.â
âLangdon,â Mel says, shooting him a look that is only half-serious. âCan you focus?â
âI am focusing,â he insists, still smiling.
You let out a small, shaky breath, your hand drifting again to your abdomen, more deliberate this time.
âYou okay?â Jack asks quietly, hand moving up to your bicep with a gentle squeeze.
You nod, your throat tight, your emotions sitting too close to the surface now, everything heightened by the sudden shift from quiet secrecy to this.
Mel finishes her checks, her movements careful, precise, her questions more thorough now, more attentive to detail in a way that reassures you even as it makes your pulse pick up again.
âNo red flags,â she says after a moment, her tone reassuring. âWeâll keep an eye on you for a bit, just to be safe, but everything looks fine so far.â
Relief hits you in a wave, strong enough that you have to close your eyes for a second, your shoulders dropping, tension you had not fully acknowledged easing just slightly.
âThank you,â you murmur.
She smiles. âDonât thank me yet. Iâm still telling everyone.â
Your eyes snap open. âWhat?â
âIâm kidding,â she says quickly, though the look she shares with Langdon suggests she absolutely is not.
âMelââ
âWeâll be discreet,â she amends, not sounding entirely convincing.
Langdon is already backing towards the door, his grin far too wide to be trusted. âIâm just going to grab something,â he says.
âYou are absolutely going to tell people,â you reply, your voice somewhere between resigned and horrified.
âMe?â he says, feigning innocence. âNo. Never.â
He slips out of the room before you can argue further. Mel lingers for a second longer, her expression soft again as she looks at you.
âSeriously,â she says quietly. âCongratulations.â
Your face warms further.
âThank you.â
She squeezes your shoulder gently before following him out. The door closes.
Silence settles again. Different this time. Fuller. You let out a breath you did not realise you were holding, your hand still resting protectively over your abdomen.
Jack shifts closer properly now, no hesitation left as he lets you melt into his side.
âYou alright?â he asks.
You nod, even as your emotions feel like they are shifting too quickly to keep up with.
âYeah,â you say. âI just⌠that wasnât how I pictured telling people.â
Jack huffs a quiet breath, something almost amused, almost fond. âNo,â he agrees. âProbably not.â
You glance up at him, your lips pressing together in a small, shy smile. âTheyâre going to tell everyone.â
âYeah. Saves us the job, though.â
âIâm going to have to face the entire department in about five minutes.â
âYou and me both, sweetheart.â
You groan softly, dropping your head back against the wall. âI might actually die.â
âYou wonât,â Jack says, his tone dry, but there is warmth there, unmistakable. He presses a firm kiss to your temple. âYouâll survive.â
âBarely.â
Jackâs hand shifts slightly, brushing against yours where it rests on your stomach. It is instinctive. Gentle. You still. Your breath catches. He notices.
âHey,â he says quietly.
You look up. Jackâs expression has softened completely now, whatever restraint he had been holding onto slipping just enough for you to see what sits underneath.
âYou donât have to do anything you donât want to. If you want to tell them to keep that secret forever, you know they will,â Jack says.
âI know,â you reply softly. You canât help but think of just how excited they both were, grins wide and hands batting each other in unrestrained joy. âI think itâs easier this way.â
From somewhere out in the corridor, you hear it. A voice. Then another. A laugh. Your name. You close your eyes briefly.
âYeah,â you say, smile spreading. âItâs happening.â
When you eventually leave, you do not get a quiet exit. You had hoped, briefly, irrationally, that maybe the shift would swallow it, that the chaos would take precedence, that people would be too busy to notice, to care, to turn their attention towards you in the way you have always quietly avoided.
You should have known better. The moment you step out of the room, it hits you. Not physically, not like before, but socially, emotionally, a rush of voices and attention that makes your chest tighten in an entirely different way.
âHey! Hey, is it true?â
âOh my God, congratulations!â
âSeriously? Thatâs amazing!â
Your name is everywhere all at once, carried on excitement and curiosity and a kind of warmth you do not quite know how to handle when it is directed at you so openly.
Your face burns. It is immediate. Unavoidable. You duck your head slightly on instinct, your hand drifting again to your abdomen like it might anchor you, like it might make you smaller somehow.
âCareful,â Jack murmurs beside you, his hand finding the small of your back, steady, grounding. âI wonât let them crowd you.â
You nod, even though your words feel stuck somewhere behind your teeth.
âThank you,â you manage to one nurse who squeezes your arm gently as she passes, her smile bright and genuine.
You mean it. You just wish it was not happening all at once.
âLook at you,â Trinity says, laughing softly, tone teasing but uncharacteristically gentle. âKeeping secrets.â
âI wasnâtââ you start, then stop, because you were, and there is no point pretending otherwise. âItâs recent,â you say instead, your voice quiet, careful.
It feels easier than explaining the truth. Jack stays close. Not hovering. Not drawing attention. Just there, a steady presence at your side, his hand occasionally brushing your back, your arm, small points of contact that keep you grounded when everything else feels a little too loud.
âAlright, thatâs enough,â Danaâs voice cuts through the noise, firm and authoritative in a way that makes people listen immediately. âGive them some space, yeah? You can all be excited at the baby shower someday.â
Relief floods through you so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. âThank you,â you whisper, more to the universe than to anyone specific.
Dana gives you a look as she passes, softer than her tone had been. âGo home,â she says. âBoth of you.â
You hesitate. âIâm fine to stay,â you start automatically.
âYou hit your head,â she replies. âAnd youâre pregnant.â
Hearing it said like that, so matter-of-fact, so out in the open, makes your face warm all over again.
âYouâre going home,â she repeats.
Jack nods once. âSheâs going home,â he agrees.
You glance at him, something in your chest tightening and softening at the same time.
âWhat about your shift?â you ask quietly.
âShenâs here,â he says.
âYou donât have toââ
âI know,â he cuts in gently. âI want to.â
The simplicity of it leaves no room for argument. You nod. âOkay.â
The walk out feels longer than it should. Not because of distance, but because of the constant stream of congratulations, the soft smiles, the quiet excitement that seems to follow you down every corridor.
You try to respond to as many as you can, your voice soft, your words brief, your composure just about holding together under the weight of it all.
Jack does not let go of you. Not fully. His hand stays at your back, guiding, steadying, a quiet reassurance that you are not navigating this alone.
By the time you reach the exit, your cheeks ache slightly from smiling, your emotions stretched thin in a way that feels both overwhelming and strangely warm.
The night air hits you gently as the doors slide open, cooler, quieter, a stark contrast to the noise you have just left behind. You breathe in deeply. You step outside, your shoulders dropping slightly, the tension easing now that the attention has faded.
âThat was a lot,â you admit, your voice soft.
âYeah,â Jack agrees.
You glance at him, a small, shy smile tugging at your mouth. âTheyâre all very excited.â
âThey are. Did you think they would react any other way, baby? Have you met them before?â
You grin. âI know. I just wasnât ready for that.â
âI know,â Jack says, tone softer. âYou handled it like a champ.â
You huff out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly. âI feel like Iâve just been put under a spotlight.â
You look at him properly then, really taking him in, the way his expression has softened completely, the pride sitting there, open and unguarded in a way you do not think you have ever seen directed at you like this before.
It makes your chest ache. In a good way.
âI am so proud of you,â Jack says. âI donât say it enough. Iâm so, so, so proud of you, angel.â
Your breath catches slightly. Your gaze drops for a second, your face warming again, that familiar shyness creeping in even as something deeper settles underneath it.
âItâs early,â you murmur. âWe donât evenââ
âI know,â Jack interrupts gently. âDoesnât change a single thing. Proud of both of you.â
You nod slowly, your hand drifting down again, resting lightly over your abdomen. It feels different now. Less like a secret. More like something real.
âYou were scared,â he says after a moment, his voice quieter now.
You hesitate. âYeah,â you admit. âWhen I hit my head, I justââ you stop, your throat tightening slightly. âI didnât even think about me first.â
âI know.â Jackâs hand shifts, covering yours where it rests, warm and steady. âTheyâre alright,â he says.
You nod, your eyes stinging just slightly. âYeah.â
You stand there for a moment, the world quieter around you, the chaos of the hospital feeling distant now, like something you have stepped out of rather than something that is still pulling at you.
âCome on,â he says gently. âLetâs get you home.â
Home. The word settles softly. You nod.
âOkay.â
Jack keeps his hand in yours as you walk, his pace matching yours without you having to think about it, without you having to ask. You feel tired.
Still, underneath all of that, there is something else.
You lean into Jack slightly as you walk, just enough to feel the solid presence of him beside you, just enough to remind yourself that this, all of this, is real. He does not pull away. And, for the first time since everything shifted, since the moment in that exam room, since the voices and the attention and the sudden change in everything, you feel something settle properly.
Not perfectly. Not completely. Just enough. Enough to breathe a little easier. Enough to let yourself feel it. All of it.
Summary: You've had a crush on your attending Jack Abott and in a final effort to get over it, you go on a date but that makes it worse.
cw: Age gap mentioned/implied, pittlings mentioned. Unrequited Love with a twist. Pittlings mentioned, very sappy and cute
Part two to this
Word count: 5.3k (I got carried away)
A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments, and I hope you love my loves that are just so stupid and madly in love. This is heartbreaking, but I promise it's worth it in the end!! Also, I listened to All Night by Beyonce while writing the last little bit of this, so if i would recommend doing that so you get the full effect.
You finally feel good enough to be back, getting over your nasty stomach bug, aka trying not to let your feelings about Jack consume you as they did before, it's your first shift back at PMTC.Â
The automatic doors slide open, and itâs like no time has passed at all.
Same antiseptic smell.
Same hum of monitors.
Same chaos simmering just beneath the surface.
You change into scrubs, tie your hair back, clip your badge, and for a second, you just stand there in the locker room, staring at your reflection.
You look⌠normal. That almost pisses you off.Â
Because you donât feel normal.
You feel like youâre walking into a place where everything changed, but no one else got the memo besides the people who knew you best.Â
And then you step onto the floor.Â
âLook who decided to rejoin society,â Trinity calls from the nurseâs station, not even looking up from the chart sheâs pretending to read.
Mel glances over, smirking. âAlive. Barely.â
Langdon gives you a subtle once-over. âColorâs back. Weâll take it.â
You roll your eyes, but itâs easy familiar. Comfortable.
âMiss me?â you shoot back.
âDebatable,â Trinity says. âWe had peace and quiet.â
Itâs effortless.
The rhythm picks up, almost immediately charts, consults, quick banter, controlled chaos. Your brain clicks back into place like it never left.
And for a moment, you think maybe you can do this as you get ready for rounds. Maybe you can be here⌠and be okay.
Until âHey.âThat voice.Low. Familiar. Right behind you.Â
Everything in your body betrays you at once.
You silently hoped and prayed that the floor would swallow you up so you didnât have to talk to him. Your shoulders tense. Your grip tightens around the chart in your hands.
You turn. And there he is . Jack Abbot, same as always. Wearing a tight black t-shirt, showing off his biceps, he looked good; he always does. Standing in front of you as if nothing happened. Like you didnât cry in front of him on a park bench and quietly fall apart.
âBack from the dead,â he says, tone light, but his eyes? Not light at all. They scan your face quickly, subtly, like heâs checking for something.
You force a small, professional smile. âSomething like that.â
âFeeling better?â he asks.
Itâs such a simple question. But it feels loaded. Because heâs not just asking about a stomach bug that he knows youâre lying about. Heâs asking are you okay after me?
You nod. âYeah. Just needed a couple of days.âÂ
Another pause. You both know youâre lying. But this is what he meant, isnât it?
We donât let this ruin what we do have.
âGood,â he says, but it comes out softer than he probably intended.
âWeâve got a trauma coming in massive MVC, lots of injuries,â Dana says as she hangs up the phone. âYouâre on with me,â he says, headed towards the ambulance bay with little room to interject and say no.Â
Getting traumas is where you feel grounded. To most people, that sounds insane, but this is your space. This is where nothing else matters.
Except tonight..Everything feels louder. Maybe itâs the fact that people involved in a car crash couldnât have been more than 25, around your age, or maybe it's the fact that your heart still aches for him.
Or maybe its His voice giving instructions or the way he moves beside you.Â
The quiet âniceâ under his breath when you anticipate a step before he says it.
You try to ignore it.
You do ignore it. UntilââGo ahead,â he says. And there it is.
That same tone. That same trust.Like the first time. Like the moment that started all of this.
You freeze for half a second, not long enough for anyone else to notice.
But he does. Of course he does.
âHey,â he says quietly, just for you. âYouâve got it.â Your chest tightens.
God, you hate that those words still work on you. But they do. You push through. Steady hands. Clean execution.Â
Because of course it is.
You finish up and send them up for surgery, youâre taking a moment to collect yourself⌠Heâs there. Silence again. But this time itâs different from the park.
You focus on the sink, the rhythm of water over your hands.
âYou didnât have to disappear,â he says suddenly.
You keep your eyes down. âI was sick,â you lie through your teeth again
He exhales, almost like a quiet yeah, okay.
âYou couldâve texted,â he adds. That makes you look at him. Because now youâre a little irritated.
âYou texted me,â you say. âI answered.â
âThatâs not the same.â A beat. And there it is, that one thing.
The thing that makes you feel insane.
Not the distance.Not the boundaries. But this, he wonât let you have himâŚbut he also wonât let you fully pull away.
You shake your head slightly, drying your hands. âI didnât realize there were rules to this.â
âThere arenât,â he says quickly.
âRight,â you reply, meeting his eyes now. âFeels like there are.â
He says nothing, just stares at you like he's trying to read your mind.Â
Nothing ended. But nothing is okay either. Now youâre back. Working side by side.
Acting normal.
While every interaction feels like walking a line that neither of you is willing to define, but neither of you can ignore.
"Jack, what do you want from me? "The words land harder than you expect. You didn't mean for it to come off in such a way, but you needed to know.
Suddenly, the space between you feels a lot smaller. Jack goes still. Like you just asked the one question heâs been actively avoiding.
For a second, he doesnât say anything, just looks at you, really looks at you, like heâs deciding how much truth you can handle⌠or how much heâs willing to give.
âWhat do Iââ he starts, then stops, dragging a hand over his jaw. âThatâs notââ
âIt is,â you cut in, not raising your voice, but thereâs something steady in it now. âBecause I feel like Iâm losing my mind.â
His expression shifts, less guarded, more⌠conflicted.
âYou donât get to tell me we canât do this,â you continue, gesturing lightly between you, âand then check on me, and notice when I pull away, andâ your voice tightens just slightly, âact as if it matters.â
âIt does matter,â he says immediately.
âThen what is it?â you press. âBecause I donât know how to be around you like this.â
He exhales slowly, like this is costing him something.
âI wantâŚâ he starts, then shakes his head, frustrated. âI want things I donât get to want.â
Your chest tightens.âThatâs not an answer.â
âItâs the only one Iâve got,â he says, a little sharper now, not at you, but at the situation. At himself.
You stare at him, searching. âDo you want me to just⌠turn it off? Pretend none of this is happening?â
âNo,â he says, softer now. âI donât want you to do anything that makes you smaller.â
Oh. âThen what do you want?â you ask again, quieter this time.
He holds your gaze, and this time, he doesnât look away.
âI want to keep working with you,â he says. âI want to be able to talk to you at 3 a.m. and not have it feel like Iâm crossing a line every time I do it.â
A beat.âAnd yeah,â he adds, voice lower now, âI want to make sure youâre okay.â
Your throat tightens. âThatâs not fair.â
âI know.â
âNo, like itâs actually not fair,â you say, shaking your head slightly. âBecause thatâs everything but the one thing I want.â
His jaw tightens. âI know,â he repeats, quieter.
You laugh softly, but thereâs no humor in it. âSo Iâm just supposed to stand here and⌠what? Be your almost?â
Jack looks like it physically hits him. âIâm not asking you to do that,â he says.
âArenât you?â you push. âBecause thatâs what it feels like.â
He doesnât have a quick response this time. Because there isnât one.
The truth is sitting right there between you and neither of you can reshape it into something easier.âI canât give you more,â he says finally.
There it is. Clear and unavoidable. You nod slowly, even though it stings.
âThen you donât get to ask for all the other parts either,â you say, your voice steady but softer now. âYou donât get to have me in every way thatâs easy for you and none of the ways that matter to me.â
That one lands. You see it. Because this time, he doesnât argue.
He just looks at you, conflicted, like he knows youâre right but doesnât know how to fix it.
Or worse, he knows he canât. Another long silence stretches between you.
Then, quieter, âI donât want to lose you,â he admits. Your chest aches.
âThen you shouldâve thought about that before you made me feel like this,â you say gently.
And for the first time, he doesnât try to explain it away or try to soften it.
He just stands there, looking at you like this is the consequence he knew was coming but hoped he could avoid.
But now itâs here. And neither of you can pretend it isnât anymore
âHeyââ he starts, but youâre already shaking your head, eyes glassy, voice tight with everything youâve been holding in.
âNo. Donât âheyâ me,â you say, breath unsteady. âIâm not asking for a lot. Iâm asking you to acknowledge that thisâ you gesture between you, hands trembling slightly, âis something. Because it is. And you know it is.â
He goes quiet again. That silence youâre starting to hate.
âI know you feel it,â you push, softer now but somehow more intense. âSo donât give me that same line about not wanting to lose me. If you donât want to lose me, then fight for me.â
That lands harder than anything else.
You see it in his jaw tightening, something flickering behind his eyes that looks a lot like conflict⌠or guilt.
âDo I not mean that much to you?â you ask, and this time your voice breaks. Thatâs the question he really doesnât want to answer.
âDonât,â he says quietly. Your stomach drops. âDonât what?â
âDonât twist it into that,â he replies, a little firmer now. âYou know thatâs not true.â
âThen what is true?â you fire back. âBecause from where Iâm standing, it feels like I care more than you do. It feels like Iâm the only one actually risking anything here.â
His head drops for a second, like heâs bracing himself.
âThatâs not fair,â he mutters. A hollow laugh escapes you. âNo, whatâs not fair is feeling like I have to beg you to give a shit about me.â
His head snaps back up, eyes locked on yours. âYou are not begging me to give a shit about you.â
âIt feels like it,â you say, quieter now, defeated more than angry. âIt feels like Iâm standing here asking you to just⌠want me out loud.â
Silence. God, the silence.Because he doesnât deny it.
He just stands there, breathing heavier now, like this is tearing at him too.
âYou think I donât care?â he says finally, voice low, almost strained. âYou think this is easy for me?â
âI donât know,â you admit, shaking your head. âBecause you wonât show me.â
Jack drags a hand down his face, pacing once like heâs trying to burn off the tension.
âIf this was just about what I feelââ he starts, then stops himself.âBut itâs not,â you finish quietly.
He looks at you. And this time, thereâs no hiding behind vague answers. âItâs not,â he confirms.
âYouâre a resident,â he continues. âIâm your attending. That aloneâ he exhales sharply, âthatâs enough to burn both of us if this goes wrong.â
âIâm not asking you to be reckless,â you say. âIâm asking you to be honest.â
âI am being honest,â he counters. âI want you. I care about you. But acting on that? Thatâs not just about us, itâs your career, your reputationâ
âMy choice,â you cut in. âNot entirely,â he shoots back. âNot when thereâs a power dynamic like this. Not when it could cost you more than you think.â
That gives you pause. Just for a second.
But itâs enough for him to keep going, voice quieter now.
âIâve already lived through losing someone I loved,â he says. âIâm not going to be the reason something like that happens to youâcareer, life, whatever version of loss it is.â
Your anger softens, just a little, but the ache is still there.
âSo instead,â you say, âyou just⌠keep me close enough to care, but far enough to protect yourself.âHe doesnât answer. Because he canât. Because youâre not wrong.
Your shoulders drop slightly, the fight draining out of you.âI donât need you to protect me from everything,â you say softly. âI need you to decide if Iâm worth choosing anyway.â
Jack looks at you like thatâs the question heâs been trying not to face this whole time. And the worst part?
You can see the answer forming, not because he doesnât feel it. But because heâs choosing not to act on it.
âI canât,â he says finally. Your heart cracks a little more, but this time, itâs cleaner.
Because at least now? You know.
You nod slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.âOkay,â you whisper.
âI'd like to be moved off nights.â The words land differently than everything else youâve said.
Jack goes still. For a second, itâs like he didnât expect that to be your next move.
âYou want off nights?â he repeats, slower this time, like heâs trying to process what that actually means. You nod, steady now. âYeah.â
âI think thatâs whatâs best,â you add. âFor both of us.â
A shift change means distance. Less overlap. Fewer 3 a.m. conversations. No more default proximity. No more easy access to each other.
Jack exhales, looking down for a second, like heâs weighing something.
âThatâs⌠a big change,â he says.
âIt is,â you agree. âBut I donât think I can do this otherwise.â
He looks back at you, eyes sharper now. âDo what?â
You meet his gaze. âPretend I donât feel anything. Pretend this is normal.â âItâs not fair to me,â you continue, softer now. âAnd itâs not fair to you either, if Iâm being honest.â
âHow is it not fair to me?â he asks.
âBecause eventually Iâm going to resent you,â you say plainly. âAnd I donât want to.â
Silence stretches between you.
âI meant what I said,â you add. âYou donât get to have the parts of me that are easy if you canât give me what I need.â
Jackâs jaw tightens slightly. He nods once, slowly.âOkay,â he says.
And thatâs⌠it. No argument. No pushback. Which almost makes it worse. Because you thought maybe heâd fight you on this.
That something in him would finally tip. But he doesnât. He just accepts it.
âIâll talk to scheduling,â you say, already stepping back slightly, putting space between you for the first time that actually feels intentional.
Jack watches you, something unreadable in his expression now. âThatâs what you want?â he asks. You hesitate. Because itâs not what you want. Itâs what you need.
âYes,â you say anyway.
Another pause.Then, quieter, âAlright.âYou nod once, like youâre sealing it.
âAlright.âAnd this time, when you walk away. He lets you.
8 months change more than you expected. Not in some dramatic, life-altering way.
Gradually.
The ache that used to sit heavy in your chest? Gone. Or at least softened into something you donât notice unless you go looking for it. You wake up without immediately thinking about him. You go entire shifts without wondering where he is, what heâs doing, who heâs with.
And when you do see Jack Abbot, it doesnât knock the air out of you anymore. Itâs almost disorienting the first time it happens.
He walks past you in the hallway, mid-conversation with someone from trauma, and your body doesnât betray you the way it used to. No spike in your pulse. No sudden tightness in your chest.
Day shift helps.
The pace is different. The light feels different. Your life feels⌠bigger somehow, not confined to those late-night hours where everything used to revolve around him.
Mel still checks in, less obviously now. Trinity makes the occasional comment but doesnât push. Langdon still annoys you into doing things outside of work, which, annoyingly, has helped.
You laugh more. Sleep like a normal person. Exist outside of that orbit.
You still hear about him, though. âAbbot was in a SWAT op this weekend, something insane.â
âHe stayed past shift again, typical.â âHe scrubbed in on a case he didnât even have to.â
Little reminders. And they donât gut you anymore. They just⌠pass through.
Every now and then, you catch yourself thinking about the park. About that conversation.
About how intense it all felt. And instead of spiraling, you just sit with it. Because now you can see it for what it was, real, yes.But also unsustainable.
One afternoon, you cross paths again. Not just a passing glance this time.
A real moment.
Heâs at the nurseâs station when you walk up, flipping through a chart. He looks up, sees you, and thereâs that flicker. Subtle, but still there.
âHey,â he says. Itâs simple. Easy. Not loaded the way it used to be.
âHey,â you reply, just as steady.
âHowâve you been?â he asks.
And this time? Itâs not a question that hurts.
âGood,â you say, and you actually mean it.
Something shifts in his expression then. Not disappointment exactly. Not relief either.
âGood,â he says quietly.
âWould you wanna get dinner and catch up?â he says softly. That line doesnât land the way it wouldâve two months ago. Back then, it wouldâve undone you.
You look at Jack Abbot for a second, really looking this time. Not through the haze of wanting him, not through the ache, just clearly.
He looks the same . But you donât feel the same.
Thereâs a small pause before you answer, not because youâre spiraling but because youâre choosing.
âI donât think thatâs a good idea,â you say gently.
You see the shift in his face, subtle, but there. He didnât expect that.
âJust dinner,â he adds, quieter. âNothing complicated.â
You exhale lightly, thenââOkay, sure, we can get dinner.â
You see it in the slight lift of his brows, the way his posture shifts like he wasnât sure what version of you he was going to get.
âYeah?â he repeats, just to be sure. You nod. âYeah. Butâ you add, holding his gaze, âthis is just dinner.â.
He studies you for a second, then nods. âJust dinner.â
Thereâs something steadier in his tone this time.
âOkay,â he says. âIâll text you?â âOkay.â âGood to see you,â he adds.
You let yourself smile, just a little. âYou too.â
Later that night, you sit on your bed, staring at your phone again, but this time it doesnât feel like itâs weighing a hundred pounds.
His message comes through.
Jack: Tomorrow night? 7?
You read it.
Think for a second.
You: 7 works.
You set your phone down, leaning back against your pillows. Your heart doesnât race. Your chest doesnât ache. But thereâs something there.
Dinner doesnât feel like a big, cinematic moment. Which is exactly why it does.
You almost cancel twice. Not because youâre spiraling but because part of you doesnât want to disturb the peace youâve built. The version of you that can walk past him without your chest tightening.
But you go anyway.
The place he picks is quiet. Dim lighting, nothing flashy. The kind of place that doesnât demand anything from you.
You spot him before he sees you, already seated, sleeves rolled up, looking⌠normal and handsome; he always looks handsome.
You walk over.âHey,â you say.
He looks up, and thereâs that flicker again
âHey.â A small smile. Easy.
Thereâs a beat where both of you are adjusting to this being here, across from each other, outside of the hospital, without the chaos to hide behind.
âSo,â he says, glancing at the menu, âhowâs days treating you?â
You let out a small breath, leaning back slightly. âBetter than I expected. I sleep like a normal person now, which is⌠new.â
He huffs a quiet laugh. âYeah, thatâll do it.â âAnd you?â you ask. âStill living at the hospital?â
âMore or less,â he shrugs. âSome things donât change.â
You nod. The conversation builds slowly.
Work stories. Trinity being Trinity. A patient that stuck with you. A case he couldnât quite let go of. And itâs⌠good. Itâs really good.Â
Familiar.
You fall into that rhythm you always had, the one that made everything feel effortless. You did miss him, despite all the shit that he put you through, or lack of.Â
The dinner goes well, and you guys fall into a small routine of getting dinner with each other every once in a while, nothing too serious, you guys decided to keep it casual, or whatever that looked like to the two of you, which meant nothing about it was casual.Â
A few weeks later, after that first dinner, you had a rough shift, and you donât even realize where youâre walking at first, just that your feet are moving, your brain is finally quiet. The air is cool, the city dimmed down into that late-night stillness you used to live in.
And then you see it.
The bench.
You almost laugh. Of course, itâs this bench. Of course, it comes full circle like that.
You hesitate for a secon,d then sit. Not because youâre unraveling like last time.
Just⌠remembering.
How everything changed here. How you broke open a part of yourself you didnât even know existed. How you walked away and actually somehow put yourself back together again.
You lean back slightly, exhaling, eyes drifting up to the sky.
And then
âHey.â
Your eyes close for a split second. Not because youâre panicking. Just becauseâŚOf course.
You turn your head. And there he is. Jack Abbot, same spot. Same voice.
But everything else? Different.
âYou follow me now?â you ask lightly.
Thereâs a hint of a smile in your voice, something that wouldâve been impossible before.
He huffs a quiet laugh. âWas already here.â You nod once, gesturing vaguely. âRight. Your bench.ââNot mine,â he says, stepping closer. âJust⌠familiar.â
âYeah,â you agree softly.
He doesnât sit right away. Just stands there, looking at you in a way thatâs steadier than before. Less conflicted. More⌠decided. You notice it immediately. Of course you do.
âEverything okay?â you ask, tilting your head slightly. Because something is different.
He exhales slowly, like heâs been holding this in for a while.
âI need to tell you something,â he says. You sit up a little straighter.
Not bracing. Just⌠present.âOkay.â
He finally sits, but not far away this time. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that itâs intentional.
âI meant it when I said I couldnât give you more,â he starts. Your stomach dips slightly, but you donât interrupt. Youâve learned that part.
âI wasnât lying,â he continues. âI just⌠wasnât being honest with myself.â You watch him carefully.
âI told myself it was about your career. The timing. The fact that I was your attending,â he says. âAnd yeah, that mattered.â
âBut it wasnât the whole truth.âYour chest tightens just slightly.
Because this is new.
âI was choosing what was safe,â he admits. âWhat was controlled. What didnât ask anything more from me than I was willing to give.â He glances at you then, holding your gaze.
âAnd you werenât asking for something unreasonable,â he adds quietly. âYou were asking me to show up.â
Because thatâs exactly what it was.
âI didnât,â he says. âAnd I lost you because of it.â You swallow, steady but not untouched.
âYou didn't lose me,â you say softly. âI just stopped waiting.â
He nods, like he understands the difference.âI know.âSilence settles, but itâs not heavy.
âI fixed what I could,â he continues after a moment. âIâm off your service. Requested it weeks ago. Iâm not your attending anymore.â
Your brows knit slightly. âYou did?â Yeah.â âNo weird dynamic. No grey area,â he says. âJust me. That changes things. And he knows it. Just himÂ
âIâm not asking you to go back to what we were,â he continues. âIâm asking for a real chance to be something else.â Your heart picks up, but not in that overwhelming, consuming way.
Just enough to remind you itâs there. âAnd if you say no,â he adds, steady, âIâll respect it.â
You study him. Really study him. Looking for hesitation. For the old patterns. For the part of him that used to hold back. You donât find it.
âWhat changed?â you ask quietly.
He lets out a small breath, almost like a laugh.
âYou stopped needing me,â he says.
That surprises you.
âI saw you,â he continues. âOn days. With your people. Laughing. Fine without me.â âAnd it made me realize I wasnât protecting anything. I was just⌠standing still while you moved on.â
Your chest softens, just a little.
âI donât want to stand still anymore,â he says. You look down at your hands for a second, then back at him.
âYou hurt me, Jack,â you say plainly.
âI know.â âAnd I meant what I said,â you continue. âIâm not doing that again.â
âI know,â he repeats.
âNo half-in, half-out?â
He shakes his head. âNot this time.â
You hold his gaze for a long moment. Not for the version of him you used to want but for the one standing in front of you now.
And he doesnât look away.
Your breath catches slightly, your chest tightening not with panic this time, but something softer. Something thatâs been building quietly under the surface.
You exhale.
âOkay,â you say. And your voice is steady, but your eyes give you away. Tears brim before you can stop them.
Not the sharp, breaking kind from before. These are different.
Jackâs expression shifts immediately, something in him softening the second he sees it.
âHeyâŚâ he says quietly, like heâs not sure if he should move closer or give you space.
You let out a small, shaky laugh, brushing under your eye. âIâm okay,â you whisper. âI justâ really needed you to mean it.â
âI do,â he says, no hesitation this time. âI mean it.â Another tear slips down, and this time he doesnât hesitate. His hand comes up, gentle, careful, like heâs still asking permission even now, brushing it away with his thumb.
âIâm not going to do this halfway,â he adds, quieter now. âNot with you.â Your lips press together as you nod, emotions sitting right at the surface.
You look at him, like really look at looking for an ounce of hesitation, and you donât find any, and you close the space in between you and wrap your arms around his neck and tuck into him, your face brushing his shoulder, his hand sliding up your back, holding you there like heâs anchoring himself just as much as you.
âIâve got you,â he murmurs softly, the words settling somewhere deep in your chest.
Youâre still wrapped around him, your arms looped behind his neck, your breath uneven against his shoulder.
And for a second, he just holds you.
Like heâs memorizing it. Like heâs grounding himself in the fact that this is real.
Then you feel it, the shift. Like he's got more to sayÂ
He pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on you, like letting go isnât even an option anymore.
âWait,â he says softly. Your heart stutters.
Because his voice itâs different.
âDonât move, thereâs more,â he adds, almost like heâs afraid this moment might disappear if he doesnât say it right.
You donât. You couldnât if you tried.
His hands slide up slightly, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like heâs making sure youâre really here.
âI need you to hear this,â he says. He finally lets go of everything heâs been holding in.
âI have been in love with you for longer than Iâll ever admit out loud,â he says, voice low but steady. âAnd I tried to bury it. I tried to convince myself it was a phase, that it was timing, that it was anything other than what it actually is.â
Your breath hitches.
âI told myself I was protecting you,â he continues, shaking his head slightly. âYour career, your future, your life. But that wasnât the truth.â
âI was protecting myself from how much I wanted you.â
His thumb brushes under your eye again, catching a tear before it falls.
âIâve lost people before,â he says quietly. âAnd somewhere along the way, I decided it was easier to just⌠not risk anything that could break me like that again.â
Your chest tightens.
âBut then you came into my life,â he says, his voice softening in a way that feels almost reverent. âAnd you didnât just matter, you changed everything. The way I think. The way I show up. The way I see⌠everything.â
He exhales, like this is the hardest part.
âAnd when you walked away when you stopped waiting for me,â his jaw tightens slightly, âthatâs when I realized I wasnât protecting anything.â
âI was losing you.â
Silence. The kind that feels full instead of empty.
âI donât want to lose you,â he says again, but this time, itâs not hesitant or conflicted. âAnd Iâm not going to stand here and pretend I can keep you halfway in my life and be okay with that.â
Your hands tighten slightly against him.
âI want all of it,â he says. âThe hard parts. The complicated parts. The parts that donât make sense yet.â
His forehead rests lightly against yours.
âI want you,â he finishes, softer now. âFully. Out loud. No more hiding.â
âIf loving you means risking everything Iâve been trying to protect⌠then Iâm done protecting it.â
Your breath breaks. Because thatâs it. Thatâs the thing you needed.
Just⌠him choosing you without fear.
You shake your head slightly, overwhelmed, tears falling freely now, but youâre smiling through them.
âYouâre so late,â you whisper, voice trembling.
He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh. âI know.â âBut Iâm here now.â
He presses his lips to yours, and everything else disappears. You melt into him, the kind of kiss that feels like relief, like coming home after being lost for too long. Your tears mix with his, warm against your cheeks, but this time they donât come from hurtâthey come from release. That ache that used to sit heavy in your chest is gone, replaced by something softer, steadier⌠something that feels like peace.
Like it was all worth it.
You pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him, the man who broke your heart and somehow still found his way back to it. Thereâs no hesitation in his eyes now. No distance. Just you.
A small, breathless laugh escapes you, shaking your head like you canât quite believe this is real.
âI love you, too⌠obviously,â you say, smiling through whatâs left of your tears.
He laughs softly against your lips before you kiss him again, slower this time, more certain. Your fingers intertwine with his like they were always meant to fit there, like they remember even when everything else tried to forget.
And for the first time in a long time, nothing feels complicated.
Just him. Just you.
And the quiet, undeniable feeling that this right here is where youâre meant to be.
WAHHHHH I love them, and they mean so much to me, actually! I hope you enjoyed part two!!! I thought about it being full of heartbreak, but they had to get together!!!
"Let's see it!" Jack Abbot claps his hands together.
You chuckle. Dramatically, you open your eyes wide, blinking rapidly to show off your mascara-covered eyelashes. You must admit that the mascara is much nicer than the one you were going to pick up at CVS. Hell, it might just be the nicest mascara you've ever had the luxury of putting on.
"Thank you again, Dr. Abbot," you say. "Really, you did not need to do this."
"Ah, don't mention it." He furrows his brows, "But, ah, what else did you get?"
"Oh!" You chuckle softly, "I got a perfume! Just a travel-sized one. Well, actually, it's technically a mini size. I'm, uh, actually wearing it right now if you want to⌠to smell it."
You ought to slap yourself as soon as the offer comes out of your mouth. What else are you supposed to do, though? The man paid for the goddamn perfume. It's only right that you at least offer⌠right?
Jack's eyebrows shoot up. He takes a look around, and you're struck by the realization that you're still at work, offering to have your boss smell you. You should turn and run, but then you consider the fact that just yesterday in the very same ED, Jack did give you a hundred bucks to spend on yourself. Sugar daddy shit, you think. This could get complicated, more so than it already is. But, honestly? A little mid-shift sniff might not be the worst thing in the world.
Jack seems to think so too, because he nods. His eyes scan the surrounding area. He must deem it safe, because wordlessly, he leans in. You bare your neck, the spot where you had rubbed your perfume-covered wrists. Wait, your wrists! Why aren't you offering up your wrists?
It's too late to ask that question, because Jack inhales, long and slow. You hold your breath, eyes fluttering as you attempt to ignore the pounding of your heart.
"Smellsâ Smells great," Jack pulls away, clearing his throat. You try not to look too disappointed when he smiles tightly at you, "What else?"
You blink, "Uh⌠nothing. That's it."
Jack scowls, "Seriously? I gave you a hundred bucks. Why didn't you spend it all?"
"I did."
"On two things?"
"Dr. Abbot, that's just how expensive this stuff is. Why do you think I was going to just buy the drugstore one?"
Shit, now you feel bad. You should have just lied, told Jack that you cleared out the store. It would make him so happy, but the idea of lying to Jack after you're already indebted to him makes you feel ill.
"I told you to let me know if you needed more. Why didn't you?"
"Because I don't!" Jack shakes his head in disappointment. You press, "Jack, you gave me a hundred bucks. One hundred bucks that you didn't need to!"
Jack nods, chewing the inside of his lip. He sighs, and when you think he's done with this matter, Jack says, "Why don't we go together?"
"Huh?"
"We'll go together, you just pick out what you want and I'll use my card."
The offer before you is tempting, incredibly so. A blank check. You've never had one of those before, and at Sephora? It's almost too good, but you can't let your fucking boss become your sugar daddy. No way.
"That is an incredibly kind gesture, Jack, but I⌠I can't say yes."
Jack shrugs, "Okay. Well, we're still going."
"Jackâ"
He raises his hand, "Not up for debate, sweetheart."
Sweetheart. He has got to stop calling you that.
"No, it's not. Because I can't let you do that, Dr. Abbot."
"Look, you can't afford the things you like, and I'm offering to foot the bill," Jack puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans in. "So do you want nice make-up for free or no?"
*****
"It's not gonna break back here?" You say, shutting the trunk of Jack's car. You offered to put his wheelchair in the back. It's the least you can do, considering that for the last hour and a half, Jack followed you through Sephora, taking every product you merely tested on your hand and dropping it in the basket that sat on his lap.
When all was said and done, Jack paid five hundred and eighty-three dollars. You could have dropped dead right at the cash register.
"What is?" Jack asks, sticking his head out of the window.
"The chair?"
Jack scoffs, "No. She's fine."
"It doesn't need to beâ?"
He hits the side of the car twice, "She's fine. Get in."
Jack doesn't have to tell you again. You round the car and hop into the passenger seat, where your (heart-stoppingly large) bag of makeup sits on the floor.
Jack waits until you buckle to start the car. He drives carefully, eyes glued to the road. You, however, keep yours on him.
You decide to break the silence, "So, are you like a pay pig or something?"
Jack blinks, "A what?"
So⌠not a pay pig. Good to know.
"Are you⌠are you trying to be my sugar daddy?"
Jack pulls a hand from the steering wheel, swiping it down his face, "No, Jesus, sweetheart. No. I⌠I like to help. I have a lot of money, and you don't."
"Lots of people don't have money."
Jack puts the hand back on the wheel, "Listen, do you want it or not? Because I can drive back and return it all."
Your eyes widen, "No, no! I'm not saying not to do this, justâŚ" You bite your lip, debating whether or not you actually want to do this. Fuck it. "Usually when a man spends a shit ton of money on a woman, they expectâŚ" Sex. Okay, maybe you don't want to bring that up with your boss, even if this situation is weird as anything. "They expect something in return."
"No, sweetheart, no. Shit, I'm sorry. Iâ I don't expect anything from you."
You ignore the way your heart sinks. Jack is your boss, you tell yourself. Your boss. Your boss. Your boss.
"Nothing? Jack, you just spent six hundred dollars on me. On top of the hundred dollars from yesterday."
Jack grows quiet. He pouts before nodding, "I did. And I'd do it again and still not expect anything from you. Got it?"
You bite your lip, "Got it."
From then on, it's nothing but silence in the car. He keeps the windows down. It doesn't do much. You wonder what it would be like to drive with him outside of the city, where Jack can really drive. Windows down, high speed, the wind in your hair.
You bite the inside of your cheek, heat rising to your face. Just because Jack decided that you're his charity case of the month doesn't mean that you should be fantasizing about road tripping with him.
You try your best to wipe that image from your mind until, finally, Jack is pulling over in front of the familiar exterior of your apartment building.
"This is me," you try to joke. "Uh, thank you, Dr. Abbot."
You get out of the car, your bag of splendors in your hands. You close the car door, but the car doesn't move.
Jack wrings his hands together in his lap, "Could we talk more?"
"Oh," your heart begins to pound. You step closer to the car. "Yeah, of course."
"Great, um, over dinner maybe? I think there's some things we should talk about."
"Dinner?" You echo.
Jack's neck flushes, "Or now, ifâ"
"No, no! Dinner's fine, Dr. Abbot." Trying to remain casual, you tack on, "Maybe I can finally pay."
Jack's lips curl, "Eh, maybe. I'll text you?"
You nod. "Sounds good." With one last smile, you turn, making your way to your place.
"Oh, wait," Jack's voice has your legs frozen on the sidewalk. You turn, glancing at him over your shoulder. He smiles, easy an warm. "Call me Jack, sweetheart."
Summary: Yours and Jack's baby girl wasn't feeling too well and when you tried to find Jack in the ED, some condescending doctors thought it would be a good idea to send you away, Jack reacts exactly as you thought he would.
CW: Ogilvie (he's a warning all on his own. I know he got a little bit better in the last few episodes but not enough). Sick baby girl and a very worried Jack Abbot.
WC: 2515
Authorâs Note: So sorry for being MIA recently but life got a little busy so I didn't have the time to write but I'm back now! I hope you guys enjoy this little piece, I'm hoping to post some more in the upcoming days. Messages and requests are always welcome, I love hearing from you guys!! đ
(I do NOT give anyone consent to use/publish my work. Any copying or translating of my writing is considered plagiarism. If you come across my work on any other site or app, please let me know and report them as well)
Jack switching over to day shift when you found out you were pregnant with your daughter was a game changer. You no longer had to force yourself to wake up earlier than you needed to just to get an extra 20 minutes with him, and Jack no longer needed to speed through handoffs in order to rush home. Now, mornings were spent getting ready together while you and your baby girl waved Jack goodbye, knowing you'd have the nighttime to be with him.
When your baby was born, you, along with Jack, made the decision that it would be best if you stayed at home. Not only did he make enough money to support your little family on his own, but with Jack's sometimes unpredictable hours, it only made sense to stay home instead of relying on babysitters or family members at the last minute. Besides, you had always dreamed of being a mom, so getting to stay home and cuddle and love on your little girl 24/7 was really the best case scenario.
Now, your baby girl was nine months old and she was nothing but pure love and cuteness all around. Jack could spend hours peppering little kisses all over her chubby little face while her tiny hands yanked at his curls. Your heart was even more full every time you looked at her due to how much she resembled Jack. Not only did she have her own red-ish curls like her dad did when he was young, but her eyes were the spitting image of Jack; not to mention her cute button nose that she would scrunch whenever you tickled her belly.
However, this particular day, your daughter seemed a little more down than usual. When you and Jack went to the nursery this morning, baby girl was a lot clingier than usual and fussy as she ate her breakfast. Of course Jack worried as he always did and suggested he should stay home and be with you. After some back and forth that everything would be fine and that he should get going, Jack relented and made sure to give your daughter some extra kisses before heading out.
That was around five hours and three meltdowns ago. Soon after Jack left, you had checked her temperature and it was certainly higher than usual. You tried to comfort her as best you could, not wanting to go through the hassle of a hospital run and have her be around even more sick people, but after hearing your baby cry for so long, it was the only logical solution.
Checking her temperature once again, you cursed lightly under your breath as it climbed even higher than before. Your baby girl continued to cry as you got her loaded up in the car on the way to PTMC. You tried to call Jack but it kept going to voicemail and you even went as far as calling Robby but his was the same too. You figured they must be swamped right now but you tried not to think too hard about it and focus on your little girl as she whimpered and fussed on the backseat.
Parking as quickly as you could, you made the split decision to enter through the ambulance bay like Jack told you to. You knew staff hated it when patients did that but the rules were always bent when it came to family.
Walking in, all you saw was chaos. Nurses and doctors were running around and you couldn't find anyone you knew, which meant they were all probably with a patient. As you balanced your baby girl on your hip, you tried giving Jack another call before a voice caught your attention.
"Excuse me ma'am, you can't just barge in here through the ambulance bay. They're for ambulances only, hence the name"
Turning around, you were met with a tall, lanky doctor with curly brown hair. The condescension was heavy in his retort and he had a look on his face like he was waiting for you to challenge him. Granted you hadn't met all of Jack's coworkers before, you couldn't fault him for not knowing you, but the way he spoke to you certainly wasn't alright; you were going to have a conversation with Robby later on about his doctor's bedside manners.
"I didn't barge in here" you started, "I'm just looking for--"
The man cut you off, "oh but you did, didn't you. You came in through those doors when patients are supposed to go through triage before getting called in."
You took a deep breath before responding, not wanting to completely explode in the middle of the ED, "Look, my daughter is sick and I am just trying to get a hold of her--"
He cut you off once again by ushering you back towards triage. "Look ma'am, we take patients in by how sick they are and from the looks of it, your baby isn't all that bad, so wait here and stop trying to cut the line."
You were speechless by how curt and dismissive he was of you. You tried to argue again as he continued to walk you into the waiting room but he kept shutting you down and waving you off. How dare he disrespect you like this? Regardless of you being Jack's wife or not, he had no right to speak to any patient like this. Before you could make one last argument, the man turned around and the door to the ED shut behind him.
You huffed as you watched the door close on your face. If this was about literally anyone else or even yourself, you would have taken his advice and checked in with the desk but you knew Jack would blow a fuse if he knew his baby girl sat waiting in chairs and no one told him.
Continuing to comfort your daughter as she cried in your arms, you looked behind the desk and didn't see anyone you knew. The times you'd come in to visit Jack, Lupe would usually be at the desk and would wave you in through the doors. Now, the only person that sat there was a young woman you hadn't met.
Deciding to just go for it, you waited in line in order to speak to the lady. In the 10 or so minutes that you waited, you tried multiple times to call Jack again. His phone continued to go to voicemail and you were starting to feel frustrated as your daughter got worse and worse and everyone around you coughed or sneezed or moaned about the wait time. Once you finally made it to the front, you wasted no time before asking for Jack.
"Oh I'm sorry ma'am but I think Dr. Abbot is busy. Besides, we don't usually allow patients to pick who their doctor will be, we just assign you to whoever is free first" she replied nicely. "Would you like to tell me what brought you here though?"
Tired of being given the same answer, you were just about to give up and just wait before you caught sight of Dana behind the glass walking out of a patient room with Mateo.
"Dana" you shouted, while waving your hand in order to get her attention.
The lady at the desk was about to comment on you distracting the charge nurse before Dana quickly made her way over.
"Sweetheart, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Oh thank god Dana. She's been feeling sick all morning and I tried to get in there but I got sent out here by one of the doctors. I haven't been able to reach Jack, do you know where he is?"
Dana nodded along to everything you said before turning back to the lady at the desk, "Let her through, she's Dr. Abbot's wife."
Sighing as you were finally getting somewhere, you welcomed the hug that Dana gave you as you walked through the door.
"Hey sweet girl" Dana cooed at your daughter, "Not feeling too good huh?"
Your daughter continued to whimper as tears streamed down her face. You gave her kisses to try and calm her down, explaining to Dana how high her temperature was the last time you checked as she led you over to a patient room.
"It's been a hell of a day here, not surprised Jack hasn't been able to call you back. But you just wait here and I'll go find him for you."
You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as you finally settled your little girl onto the bed. You hummed a little song to her as you brushed her hair out of her face, now content knowing that your husband was on the way.
Your little peaceful moment was ruined however when the curtain was yanked back harshly and the man from earlier stepped in.
"Look lady, I tried being nice last time but I know for a fact that you did not go through triage because there is no baby listed on the board as a patient."
Before you could reply, he beat you to it again, "I don't know why you think you're entitled to special treatment but you can't just take a room from somebody who actually needs it."
You were about to unleash hell on this guy before a low and stern voice spoke from behind him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing."
Both you and the man turned towards the door where Jack stood eerily still, dark eyes locked on the doctor in front of you.
"Dr. Abbot, I am so sorry about this lady. She came in earlier through the ambulance bay and I told her she couldn't do that so I made her go to the waiting room. I just now found her in this patient room where she definitely wasn't assigned and--"
"This lady," Jack stated, eyes never leaving the man, "is my wife. And that baby is my daughter. I've heard the voicemails she's left me and if you would have given her the chance to speak, you would've known that."
The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. You could see the moment the young man realized he screwed up and the look in your husband's eye was terrifying. The only thing that snapped Jack out of his simmering rage was the quiet cry your daughter let out in the bed. Immediately, Jack shouldered past the man and was at your baby's side instantly.
"Hey sweet girl, what's the matter hm? Not feeling good?" Jack whispered to your baby, putting a comforting hand on her belly and rubbing gently.
The other doctor, whose name you still didn't know, stood silently by the door with a terrified look on his face. He looked as though he was about to say something before Robby walked in.
"Hey, I heard my little niece was here, what's going on" Robby asked, but stopped as soon as he saw Ogilvie standing frozen by the curtain.
Robby lifted an eyebrow towards him, "Ogilvie, is there a reason you're just standing there?"
Before he could respond, Jack beat him to it, "Yeah he's going to explain to me why he kicked my wife out of the ED and told her that our daughter wasn't a priority"
Robby's mouth dropped open at that and a confused look passed over his face as he made eye contact with you.
"Okay" Robby answered slowly, "Why don't I just take a look at baby girl here and see what's going on."
Jack and Robby switched places as Jack marched over to the young man. You called out his name to try and calm him down but he wasn't listening. Jack got toe to toe with Ogilvie and despite your husband being a few inches shorter, it did nothing to help lessen his intimidating presence.
"While I may not be able to fault you for not knowing she's my wife, I can fault you for how you spoke to her. Regardless of a patient's relationship to any of us, that does not give you the right to berate a woman who is terrified for their child. You are not allowed to just dismiss a patient's feelings and do not ever let me hear you tell another parent again that their child is not sick enough to be a priority, do you understand me."
Even from where you were standing, you could see the tears starting to well up in the young man's eyes. Even though you had also wanted to tear into him earlier, you didn't actually want to see this guy cry.
"Jack" you called softly, "that's enough. Come here please."
You held your hand out for Jack to take as he waited another second before turning away from Ogilvie. Once his hand found yours, all his attention was back on you and your baby girl. From your periphery, you saw how Robby gestured for Ogilvie to step out. Turning your focus back on your daughter, she seemed to calm down now that her dad was here.
"Her temp is still up, so we'll get some medication going for her and run a few labs just to make sure nothing else is going on behind the scenes" Robby said, smiling down at your daughter before turning to Jack, "you good brother?"
"Yeah I am" Jack nodded, "you mind carrying on without me, I wanna stay here."
"Of course" Robby smiled, "Wouldn't let you back to work even if you wanted to." Robby pulled you in for a quick hug before stepping out of the room again. Now that it was just your little family, the weight of the day was starting to weigh on your shoulders. You and Jack laid on either side of your daughter, facing one another as she finally started to settle down.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at work my love, I just didn't know what else to do" you sighed.
"Honey, do not ever apologize for taking care of our daughter, you did the right thing. If anything, I'm sorry for how Ogilvie treated you, that kid's been a pain ever since he got here" Jack huffed.
You let out a small smile as you looked at Jack, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He's definitely got a lot to learn still, but he's got a good teacher" you teased.
Jack let out a small laugh at that before looking down to peer at his little girl, "I'm glad you brought her here. I hate being away from you two."
He looked back up at you as you cupped one side of his face, "Looks like she just needed her daddy to feel better" you replied softly.
The two of you continued to lay like that, going back and forth between looking at your daughter and each other. No words were spoken, all you knew was that everything would be okay now that Jack was here and that Jack would do anything to make sure it stayed that way.
a collection of fics where the beautiful, oddball daughter you gave Jack becomes attached to his prosthetic as much as she is attached to him...
and then there's a baby
the baby's not obsessed with jack's prosthetic leg yet, but she ruins him when he's the first to teach her that some people don't have all their limbs.
little thief
jack wakes up to find his prosthetic missing, and his heart can barely handle the reveal of where it went.
spoiled with the thing
if chubby begs for the leg, she'll get the leg.
tucking leggy in
the beautiful toddler has decided it's bedtime for all of you, including the newly named prosthetic.
baby mimic
chubby can't help but copy the walk of her beloved dada.
I am not ashamed to say that some of my favourite fics on this app include Jack Abbot with a chubby baby who is specifically obsessed with his leg đ
SUMMARY: you hide the fact you're pregnant from robby, bc what he doesnât know canât hurt him. right? (3k words)
WARNINGS: unplanned pregnancy, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (aka the works), age difference, i'm gonna call it like vague miscommunication too
i saw this man hold a baby and this just kinda spilled from me (also my first fanfic in a while, i feel like i'm trying to dust off the old typewriter aka my laptop and my desire to write, so i apologise if i'm a little rusty)
Itâs been three weeks since you finally decided that the mornings of vomiting and the sudden distaste for eggs had to mean something. Three weeks since you took the pregnancy test when Robby was out picking you two up a takeaway on that motorbike you were trying really hard to like still. Three weeks since you hid it behind books you knew heâd never touch when you saw the little pink plus sign, and kissed him like nothing had happened when he walked in with your sudden craving of Thai food.
It's not like you hid the fact you were pregnant maliciously. You knew he had the makings of a great father in him, even if the two of you werenât actively trying. And whilst the idea of having a baby whilst being a fourth year resident wasnât exactly ideal, you knew you didnât want to get rid of the baby either. But you felt like maybe â just maybe â you didnât have to tell Robby just yet. Again, not because you wanted to baby trap him or anything like that. No. Because for the first time in years, Michael Robinavitch was taking a holiday and the last thing you wanted was to ruin it for him.
You knew his sabbatical seemed to most like a midlife crisis. Admittedly, it did to you too. Riding across the country on a motorbike was stupid, but youâd bought him the best helmet money could buy and heâd sworn to you that he wasnât going to do anything stupid. He planned to miss you very much during the three months and make up for how much youâd missed him before returning to his job.
Deep down, the both of you knew how much he needed a break. Heâd been getting snappier and angrier with every day that had passed over the last few months. Mostly at work, but on occasion with you too. Youâd had your first big fights of the relationship. Ones that had him crawling across the floor to whisper apologies, looking up at you with those big dark brown eyes of his all wet and begging for a forgiveness you always gave. But that was you. You knew Robby didnât afford that same privilege to his other coworkers. Abbot and Dana, occasionally, with a push. But Mohan was a different story, one you knew you couldnât let him keep writing. It had been you who had suggested he find himself an adventure far away from Pittsburgh and any reminders of it â even if that included yourself.
Maybe it was because you saw what you reckoned others couldnât; that Robby was pushing and pushing and forcing people away so they wouldnât miss him. But you werenât about to let him have a reason to leave the world. Not when you both loved each other so much.
Should that be a reason to tell him, you wondered as you sat cross legged on your shared bed, smiling at him as he talked to you about his plans for the drive. As Robby spoke of tourist traps heâd marked on his map, you decided it wasnât. You could practically see the responsibilities lifting off of him one by one as he talked about his plans, the lost weight bringing back a version of him you had briefly genuinely feared was lost. You werenât about to make that all crash down around him.
So instead, you lay a hand over your stomach, rubbing small subtle circles into it as you nodded along to his conversation. He tried on shirts for you, posing just to have you giggle at his over exaggerated flexing, before folding them messily and throwing them into his backpack. Once the backpack was half packed, Robby pushed it from the bed with a sigh, eyes flickering to you. âYouâre still good with this, right?â
For a brief moment, your stomach twisted with something close to guilt. You hated lying to him, youâd usually crumble in seconds. But this was for him, not against him, you reminded yourself. You had to be good with this.
Your eyes softened, hand slowly leaving your stomach to reach for him. âYeah. Yeah, of course I am. You need to do this. Itâs okay.â
Robby had crumbled within seconds. He climbed up the bed and cupped your face in his hands. âYou promise?
âI do. Donât worry about me.â
He sighed, leaning down to kiss your nose. âToo good for me, honey. Thatâs what you are. Way too good.â
God, you begged he didnât see the guilt eating you from your inside out.
It took you until the morning of Robbyâs last shift to confide in anyone else that you were pregnant.
You honestly thought youâd been hiding it perfectly. The sudden lack of eggs for breakfast was easily disguised by your sudden affinity for waffles and bacon, and your vomiting wasnât noticed so long as you were careful to lock the bathroom door at work with a âCleaning in Progressâ sign on the handle.
But knowing Robbyâs sabbatical was only hours away had thrown you off your game. You slipped the sign on as usual the second you started your shift, but in your haste to make it to the toilet youâd forgotten to lock the door. And Dana had started to get more than a little pissed off that the easiest bathroom to access was always locked at the start of the day. When she tried the handle, she expected the usual frustration of rattling it for a minute or two before giving up, not to find it open and you vomiting into a toilet like your body was trying to get rid of all the nutrients it held.
âOh, honey,â she said as she moved to hold your hair away from your face, rubbing your back with all the care youâd come to expect from her. âItâs okay. Get it all up.â
After enough time had passed that you were sure it was over, you sat back against the stall, wiping tears from your eyes as Dana flushed the contents of the toilet away. âThanks.â
âDonât mention it, kid,â she murmured as she sat beside you, her shoulder nudging against yours. âNow, do I gotta send you home?â
You shook your head with a sniffle. âIâm â Iâm not sick.â
Dana snorted. âLooked pretty sick to me.â
Slowly, you tore your gaze from the floor to meet hers, swallowing around a lump in your throat so big that you worried it was about to choke you. âIâm not sick, Dana. Iâm pregnant.â
Youâd half expected a stunned silence from Dana, but instead she was looking at you with an expression so soft it hurt. âYouâre sure?â
âTook four tests, all positive. Gave myself an ultrasound,â you whispered as you nodded shakily. âThereâs a baby in me, Iâve seen them.â
Dana watched you for a moment, cataloguing the way your breath hitched, how your lip trembled and your eyes looking at the floor like you were awaiting a charge of âguiltyâ. âRobby doesnât know, does he?â
âI canât tell him. Heâll never go on his sabbatical, and heâll just get worse, and itâll be all my fault.â
You hated hearing how your voice broke. You especially hated the tears forming too thick and too fast to stop. After weeks of keeping it a secret - of keeping all the fear in â your resolve dissolved into sobs you didnât know you held. Danaâs arms slipped around you, rubbing your back again as she let you stop being strong.
It was the first time since youâd taken the test that youâd actually said the words âIâm pregnantâ. Of course theyâd been stuck in your head; at the moment, all you could think about was baby and Robby. There had been no you until youâd said it aloud. Youâd forgotten that in taking all the weight away from Robby, youâd been crushing yourself into a fine dust.
Dana didnât say anything until youâd quietened again, knowing she needed your focus to make any sort of leeway. âListen to me, yeah? Robby may be pissing us all off a little at the moment, but I can say for certain that he loves you. He would love a baby with you. He wouldnât want you keeping it from him.â
âBut â â
âNo buts. He can have his sabbatical sat at home with you just as easily as he can in the middle of fucking nowhere on a motorbike,â she sighed, wiping your damp hair and tears from your face. âLet him choose you. Donât push him away.â
You knew, deep down, that she was right. Of course she was. But that part of you that was so scared of being hurt and hurting others was so strong it threatened to drown you forever. âYou donât think heâll be mad?â
Dana shook her head instantly, smiling in that warm way that made everything better. âNo, kid. I think heâll be over the moon.â
It wasnât your fault that it took you until the end of the shift to work up the courage to tell Robby.
You really hadnât meant to take so long. The problem was that every time you got close, one of you was pulled in a different direction. There was Langdon, and Robbyâs determination to be wherever he was not. There was Louie passing and the grief that seemed to suspend the hospital. There was the influx of patients from Westbridge and the rush to ensure they were treated properly. And in between it all, there was the beautiful little baby girl who had been left in the hospital.
When you went to find Robby after youâd finally finished your shift, you felt it was cruel of the universe to show you him holding baby Jane Doe in the darkened paediatrics room. He was swaying her as she cried, trying to soothe her no doubt. God, he really would make a good father. Your hand went to lay over your stomach at the sight as you found the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance.
For a moment, you considered running to anywhere else â the toilets, Danaâs arms, your soon to be empty home. But then Robby looked up. His eyes, watery and soft, found you and he seemed to brighten. Just a little. Just enough to melt something inside of you.
You couldnât keep running from him. Not the way he usually did. So instead, you made yourself step into the room.
âYou okay?â Robby asked softly, patting the babyâs back as he watched you, looking for the signs you didnât want to show. Heâd gotten quite good at it, if he did say so himself. But he could see nothing. It was like you were closed off even from yourself. The observation made his frown deepen.
You nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek. âIâm good. I just⌠wanted to see you before you left.â
âStill here, baby,â he murmured.
You liked it when it was quiet between the two of you. You didnât need loud and obvious to love Robby. You just needed a hand on your back, his voice whispering in your ear as you watched a movie late at night and him beside you in bed. Your heart ached at the sudden remembrance that he wouldnât be there for the next three months.
You moved until you were directly in front of him, smiling at the baby as your hand joined his on her back. âGod, arenât you just perfect?â
Robby watched the way your eyes shimmered with barely restrained tears, the quiet longing ache that had settled in your bones struggling to hold you steady the way it had before. You were watching the baby as if she held secrets youâd wanted to know for so long, and maybe she did. Robby just wished he knew how to give them to you too.
âShe is, isnât she?â he said back, giving you the space he knew you needed to let him in.
Your tongue darted across your lip, trying to buy yourself time to find the right words before he pressed too hard. But your brain was so tired and the pain in your chest wasnât easing the way you needed it to. It wasnât your fault that the wordâs seemed to tumble from your mouth without really consulting your brain. âWould you have a baby?â
You felt the air in the room shift. Not in a way that made you want to run, but similar to that of the moments before a storm you know wonât do too much damage. Robbyâs eyes werenât so soft anymore; they were confused and cautious, as if he was aware youâd stepped into territory he wasnât prepared for. âA baby? What do you mean?â
âWith me,â you whispered, biting your lip. You would be lying if you said you hadnât imagined it already. Growing bigger, growing a life inside of you, and watching Robby as he built a crib or painted a room when you got too sore to help. Him letting you have your pick of names when the baby finally came. Watching him as he learned to love a mini version of the both of you that youâd made. From the moment they would enter the world to the minute they left you for college, youâd thought of it all in excruciating detail.
âAre you asking if Iâd have a baby with you?â he asked as one hand left the baby to cup your face, his thumb rubbing across the apple of your cheek so gently it brought tears back to your eyes. âWhy?â
And you knew what was going to happen before it even did. You saw it the way people described a car crash â watching as if you were a bystander to the event. You felt it as the tears finally spilled over and your voice wavered whilst choking out, âIâm pregnant.â
Robby stood frozen before you, eyes darting over your face as if he could find a trace of a lie or a joke. But he didnât find the tells he had become used to throughout your relationship. You were pregnant, and he could see that you were certain of it. He didnât ask you if youâd taken a test as he lay the baby back down. He didnât ask if youâd actually had it confirmed as he took your face in both of his hands. What he asked instead when he leaned down to make sure he saw you properly was, âHow long have you known?â
âThree weeks,â you said through tears, hands going to hold his wrists so that he couldnât let go of you.
He repeated the timeline in a quiet whisper. You could practically see the cogs turn in his head as he thought of your sudden hatred for eggs, your over exhaustion at the end of a shift and the few times heâd caught you vomiting, which you had waved off as a result of a bad takeaway. But mostly he thought of the quietness heâd started to notice in you. At first, heâd thought it was because of his sabbatical. It was your way of preparing for the three months youâd have without him to talk to constantly. But he could see now that this was a different kind of withdrawal; one he wasnât meant to have noticed.
âWhy didnât you tell me, honey?â
You sniffle and hiccup, trying to get the tears to stop as he soothes you with the gentle brush of his thumbs. âI didnât â I didnât want to ruin your sabbatical. I didnât want to stress you out more and ruin everything.â
You expected him to yell. Maybe even to curse you out. Possibly even to say that you had ruined everything and that he was going on his sabbatical and not coming back. That was the kind of man you had come to expect in your past, and had started to notice in Robby too.
What you hadnât prepared for was kindness.
âOh, sweetheart, this wouldnât have ruined anything,â he cooed gently, kissing your forehead like he could absorb all your overthinking.
âNo?â you say as the tears slowed.
Robby shook his head with an exhausted half-smile. âNo. I would have hated to come back and find out that youâd kept a baby from me.â
Your lip trembled again, and he sighed before pulling you to his chest. Slowly, in that soothing way heâd perfected after over a year of being with you, he rubbed a hand up your back. He kissed your hair and whispered comfort that youâd been desperate to hear since that pregnancy test had come back positive. âI donât hate you. Itâs okay,â he murmured, eyes creasing with a love that truly weighed him down. It wasnât a weight he hated; he found comfort in it. There was a steadiness, a familiarity, a calm he found there that he hadnât anywhere else. He wasnât about to give that up â not in a million years.
Slowly, your panicked breaths slowed, and you met his gaze hesitantly. âI didnât mean to hide it from you. I just didnât want to ruin your road trip.â
âHey, itâs okay.â He shook his head and stroked your hair from your face like he did every morning when he finally climbed from your bed. Robby looked from your face to your stomach slowly, moving one of his hands to rest over it like he could already feel the physical difference in you. âI donât think I want to go on my sabbatical anymore anyway.â
âBecause of me?â you asked in a panic, rushing to come up with reasons to make him go.
âNo, because everyoneâs right. It is a midlife crisis,â Robby said, exhaling through his nose, lips quirking up into a smile at the corner when you let out a shaky laugh. There she is, he thought. The kind, easy, giving girl was the one he loved, not the one who sat up all night with her stomach twisting from omitted truths. âWe could go somewhere instead. Youâre overdue for a break yourself. Especially if thereâs gonna be a baby on the way.â
A million thoughts rushed through your head. That you should push Robby to go on his sabbatical still. That you didnât need a break, not yet anyway. That he still needed space from everything that was pulling him down. But at the same time, all you could really hear echoing in your ears was that the plans had changed because of the baby. âYou want the baby?â
âOf course I want our baby,â he said softly, kissing your cheek so gently you barely felt it. âIâm fucked up. Youâre a mess. But Iâm not missing out on this. Not when itâs with you.â
You waited for your brain to supply excuses, reasons not to do this. But for once, you found your thoughts to be blissfully quiet. You wanted this. He wanted this. It was okay to want to do this together. So you didnât argue. You let yourself want it. You gave yourself permission, finally, to fully love the life inside of you.
Reaching up, you cradled the side of his face in your hand. âOkay then. Where do you wanna go?â
no like i feel he would genuinely be so turned on during his shift and reader would NEVER make things easier, like they be talking about the craziest smut on their books and jack is just reading their fantasies with a boner
