You ask Jack for a picture--a selfie to be precise--and who is he to say 'no' to you?
My penance for not posting anything for The Pitt in what feels like a century. Sorry if it's bad, I just needed something to get me back into it :) cheers
Jack likes it when you send him pictures during the day. It’s one of the many “rules” he has for keeping you at home, on his payroll, so to speak. He likes seeing the evidence of his hard work splayed across the screen in the form of snapshots of your daily activities.
Working out, wearing the skin-tight spandex outfits he buys for you. Picking up an overpriced coffee from whatever cute coffee shop you stumble upon during your morning strolls. Trying on dresses for occasions that have yet to appear on your calendar, snapping photos in the dressing room mirror.
And your face. It’s those damn selfies he loves so much. Seeing your smile appear on his phone during the far-and-few breaks he gets during his back-breaking shifts on the E.D. floor.
He’s perfectly content responding with a heart emoticon or a quippy phrase, nothing more. And you don’t ask for anything more, for which he is mighty grateful.
Until today.
Beneath a photo of your bright face, grinning wide beneath the buttery afternoon sun, is a request. It’s not for a new pair of shoes, or a set of lingerie he can later remove with his teeth. It’s not for another trinket to add to your collection–those little naked babes that stare at him from the windowsill whenever he sneaks into the bedroom, home from a shift. No, it’s not for a toy or an expensive piece of sparkle you can wear on your neck.
It’s for a photo.
Of him.
Now! Pretty please!
When there’s a lull, he takes advantage of the break in the chaos to slink out to an empty on-call room. He angles his phone just right, and thinks way too much about what to do with his lips, his eyes, his teeth. He presses the button, capturing his face in the frame. Before giving the photo a second thought, he sends it, and treks back to the floor.
Sitting at lunch, you practically launch like a rocket off your chair when the notification pops up on your lockscreen. It has you giggling like a schoolgirl.
Attachment: 1 Image
You waste no time navigating to your messages with Jack, laying eyes on a selfie taken from an angle you wouldn’t necessarily have chosen–but what does that matter–and practically salivating at the sight of him. Black scrubs, unidentified stains on his neck, and those delicious salt-and-pepper curls you just love to weave your fingers through.
Flipping the phone over to a table full of your closest friends, you await their oos and ahhs.
Summary : Bucky loves his morning cuddles with his little girl
Word Count : 1.7k
A/N : This is literally so self indulgent guys. I had a dream a few days ago about this very sequence and I woke up in the middle of the night to jot down the idea so it won’t disappear in the morning
The first rays of sunlight always found Bucky awake.
Previously because of his soldier instincts. Then due to fear of not knowing where he would be when he woke up in the morning, the remnants of decades of trauma was never washed away easily.
But safe to say, there had been a time in his life when mornings meant alarms, missions, nightmares, and memories he wished would stay buried.
But now?
Mornings meant tiny socks scattered across the hallway. A stuffed bunny abandoned in the kitchen. The smell of coffee. Having you fast asleep in his bed, curled around him like he was your safe space.
And the privilege of waking up the sweetest little person he'd ever known.
His daughter.
Sweet little Rebecca—or becca as bucky liked to call her—still wonderfully round in all the places toddlers were meant to be. Chunky wrists with little bracelet-like dimples. Soft thighs that made every pair of leggings look stuffed. Permanently rosy cheeks that begged to be kissed.
And every single morning, Bucky insisted on waking her himself. It had quietly become his favorite part of the day.
You would already be downstairs most mornings, making breakfast when you hear Bucky's footsteps heading toward the nursery instead of the kitchen.
Without fail.
Every day.
"You know," you’d called one morning while whisking pancake batter, "you could let her wake up on her own."
"I could."
"But you won't?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
His answer came immediately. "Cause I like seeing the moment she remembers she's my kid."
It made no sense, but to him, it meant everything.
He padded silently down the hallway, careful to avoid the one floorboard that always creaked, and slowly pushed open the nursery door.
The room was washed in soft golden light. Nursery curtains glowing with morning sunlight. The room smelled faintly of baby lotion and lavender and detergent.
And fast asleep in the middle of her little crib, somehow having rotated herself almost completely sideways during the night, one tiny foot was sticking out from under the blanket, was her.
Ten months old Rebecca barnes whose palm was the same size of bucky's heart because ever since the day she had arrived, the little fingers had iron grip on his heart.
Her favorite stuffed bunny was upside down beside her. Her little mouth hung open ever so slightly. Tiny body sprawled dramatically across the bed. Blanket kicked halfway off. One sock missing.
And her hair...Her hair deserved its own zip code. It stuck up in every possible direction. A few curls falling into her eyes resting beside the lashes of her close eyelids.
Bucky leaned against the doorway and just...Looked.
His heart never seemed prepared for this sight. Every morning he thought ‘How did we make something this precious?’
He padded over quietly. Tiptoeing so the floorboards won’t creak beneath him.
She slept with one little fist tucked under her cheek.
Smushy.
Squishy.
Perfect.
He crouched beside the bed. Metal fingers stayed carefully tucked against his palm while his flesh hand reached out.
His fingertips slid gently through the wild nest of curls. "Look at that bed hair..." his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "My goodness."
Another tiny stroke over her head. "What happened to you?" He paused as the little girl frowned in her sleep. "I think birds moved in."
She stayed asleep through bucky’s rambling. Probably already accustomed to having a dad who loved talking to her.
He smiled, a metal finger skimming over her perfectly round, squishy cheek. "You got squirrels living up here, sweetheart?"
Her nose scrunched. Just a little, barest of the movement.
Bucky grinned immediately. "There she is." His fingers rubbed slow circles over her scalp as he continued talking.
"So pretty..."
Another stroke.
"My sleepy little bear."
Another caress.
"My chunky monkey."
He poked one of her cheeks. "Oh no! What happened to these?" He gently squished both cheeks together. "They got all smushy."
He couldn’t resist pressing soft kisses on her cheeks "Mama's gonna need to fluff these back up."
A tiny sleepy grumble sounded from her and bucky’s smile widened "There is my grumpy girl"
One eyelid slowlyy cracked open, just enough to reveal one sleepy blue eye. It stared at him blankly before closing again.
"No, no." He chuckled. "You can't trick Daddy."
HIs lips pressed onto her forehead in another kiss "I saw your eye."
She made the tiniest protesting noise. "Nuh..."
"Oh yes."
"Nuh."
"Oh yes."
He stroked the little curls away from her face as he saw a pout forming on the tiny mouth of his sleepy baby. "Can Daddy see those beautiful eyes?"
Silence.
"I think they're hiding."
"Did they disappear?"
He gasped dramatically. "I'll have to tell Mama." The kid paid no heed to his words, still pretemding to sleep. "My baby's eyes are gone!"
That earned him another sleepy protest. "Dada..."
"There they are!" He beamed as she opened her eyes to frown at him, which looked eerily similar to the disappointed glare you’d give him when he talked about adopting yet another kitten. "I knew they were in there."
She finally blinked both eyes open, slowly. Like opening them required tremendous effort and simply stared. Processing the surrounding in the sleepy haze, until she noticed her favourite person leaning over the crib, smiling at her.
The smallest smile spread across her face despite her offense at being waked from her sleep. "Dada..."
His heart melted into absolute mush. "There she is." He kissed her forehead. “Morning, sunshine."
Tiny arms reached toward him automatically. Like she'd done it every morning of her life. She didn't even think about it anymore. She simply expected Daddy to be there.
Sometimes when she woke up on her own and bucky wasn't around immediately or you—the spare human—found her in the morning before he did, the sleepy little glare your grumpy girl gave you was enough to summon a tiny thunderstorm.
But it wasn't like she didn't love you. She would run to you to show her stick drawings and babble away telling you every silly story she came up with while you brush her hair. She loved you with all her tiny heart, you were her mom after all. But mornings belonged to Daddy. No matter what, he was the person she expected to see when she opened her eyes everyday.
Bucky gathered her carefully into his arms. "Oh..." He groaned dramatically. "What is this?" He bounced her once. "Someone got heavier."
You always teased him that he said this every single day.
He did.
Because every single day she somehow felt bigger than yesterday. "My goodness." He settled onto the rocking chair. "I think somebody ate rocks."
She rested her head against his shoulder. Already melting back into sleep.
"No?" He rubbed her back slowly. "You just got extra cuddly?"
She answered in a tiny nod against his shirt, still fighting sleep. "I thought so."
The rocking chair creaked gently as bucky swayed back and forth, wrapping both arms around her. She fit perfectly against his chest.
Always had.
He rested his cheek against the top of her head sighing contentedly. "I missed my morning cuddle."
She mumbled something unintelligible.
"I know." bucky kissed the top of her head "I missed you too."
By the time you abandoned making breakfast to join them in the nursery because of overwhelming FOMO, she was drifting again.
Bucky knew all the signs. The heavy breathing. The completely limp body. The tiny fingers relaxing around his shirt.
And you had walked in to the sight you have the pleasure to see almost every morning.
Bucky rocking your little girl in the chair while she stayed tucked against his chest like it was the most comfy spot in the whole house.
You simply looked at him for a moment. His chin resting on the messy hair of your half-asleep toddler curled against his chest. He looked happier like this than you had ever seen.
"Bucky" you whispered from the doorway.
He looked over, eyes brightening at the sight of you "Hey."
You smiled knowingly. "She's falling asleep again."
"I know."
"So why are you still rocking her?"
He looked genuinely confused. "Cause she's comfy."
"You know she'll sleep another hour if you keep this up."
"I know."
You folded your arms. "So..."
"So..?"
"...you're still going to keep cuddling her?"
He looked down at the tiny girl. One chunky little arm was wrapped around his neck. The other had somehow found his hair. She was lightly snoring against his chest.
He looked back at you. "I've waited almost a hundred years to have someone who wants morning cuddles." His voice was quiet, gentle. "I'm gonna hold her as long as she'll let me."
Your eyes softened instantly. There wasn't a single teasing remark left. Because you knew. You knew exactly where that sentence came from.
THe stolen decades of his life, the denied comfort of feeling human, every emotion weaponised against him.
But now...
Now his mornings were filled with sleepy giggles, tangled curls, and warm little hugs. And he wasn't taking a second of it for granted.
You crossed the room before leaning down and kissing the top of his head then the toddler’s.
"You know she's going to stop wanting to be carried someday."
"I know."
"And one day she'll wake up before you demanding pancakes."
"I know."
"And eventually she'll probably tell you she's too old for morning cuddles."
He swallowed. "I know."
You smiled softly. "So enjoy every minute."
He looked down at the tiny girl sleeping peacefully against him. "I plan to."
He gently kissed one smushy cheek. Then another. "My sleepy little bug."
A tiny smile appeared on the toddler's face even in her sleep. As if somewhere in her dreams she knew, daddy was holding her.
And as long as he was holding her, mornings were warm, safe, and full of whispered compliments about messy bed hair, squishy cheeks, and the chunkiest little arms in the whole wide world.
Frank happily spends his day off at the zoo with his family, where the great doctor tries to prove he's also still a great husband and father — dad!frank x mom!reader fluff
warnings: some sexual references, and some mild angst (mentions of Frank's addiction, a strained marriage/family dynamic, and couples therapy) Abby doesn't exist in this fic
words: 2.5k
a/n: this oneshot is also based off of a headcanon I included in one of my Frank Langdon domestic headcanon lists, which you can find on my Langdon Masterlist! I honestly just wanna turn every one of them into oneshots lol
Frank Langdon is well-aware of how much time his job takes up.
Twelve hour shifts, four to five days a week. And that’s not even including the amount of time he has to spend at the hospital lending a hand when it’s busy, or finishing up with charting after his shift is supposed to be over.
He’s tallied up the hours he’s spent away from home. Not that he needed to. It’s obvious that his work-life balance has an effect on him and his family. He sees it every time he comes home and the kids are already asleep, or when he has to cancel your date nights because he gets called in to help with an emergency.
Frank knew he needed to get better at being a dad and a husband—partially out of his own reflection, and partially because you’ve had several lengthy talks about it—but it was hard since he was still a resident. So he went about it in the easiest way he could at first: spending quality time with his family on little day trips whenever he had time off.
Today, he brought you and the kids to the zoo, which was one of his favourite places when he was Tanner’s age.
In the section labeled ‘B for Bear’ of the zoo’s parking lot, you and Frank made sure the kids were lathered in sunscreen and that they knew the rules of the day, much to their dismay.
“No running, stay close to Mommy and Daddy, inside voices when we’re looking at animals so we don’t scare them. Okay?”
Tanner nodded, telling you he understood what you wanted from him. That was good enough for you, so you switched your gaze over to the toddler in your arms.
“You hear that, Penny? I’m looking at you, especially when I say ‘stay close to Mommy’. Do you agree to these terms, troublemaker?”
She gave you a devilish smile and nodded, same as her brother. Again, good enough for you.
“Okay then, I think we’re all ready to go in there!” You said happily. “Frankie, you all good with the backpack?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure we’ve got everything we need. Other than a picture.” He directed his words at the kids now. “C’mon, stand by your mom against the car. Really quick, then we can go, alright?”
He pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of you and the kids smiling wide at him. Most of the pictures on his phone were of his family, so he figured one more wouldn’t hurt.
Then the four of you were off, heading to the very jungle-themed entrance to the park. You carried Penny—an arrangement you made clear would not be an all day affair—while Tanner walked between you and his dad with a spring in his step.
Once you got to the gates, Frank noticed you attempting a sort of balancing act as you shifted Penny in your arms so you could show your tickets to the attendant in a tiger-striped polo shirt.
“Hey, Princess Penny, you want to come sit in my arms for a bit? Give your mom a little break?”
You adjusted Penny on your hip and thanked the employee after she opened the gates for your family before you answered Frank.
“It’s okay, honey, I’ve got her. You’ve got the backpack.”
“And that’s on my back. Penny can be in my arms. Or I could carry the bag if she wants a piggyback.”
The mere mention of the word ‘piggyback’ has Penny’s immediate attention. She struggles out of your grasp, eager to be carried by her dad instead of you. Sure, no offense taken.
“Then I can take the bag. I need something to do now that my baby doesn’t want me to hold her anymore!” You spoke dramatically to tease your daughter, with an expressive frown and a hand to your heart as you said that last part.
It worked, and your little girl giggled at you while Frank manoeuvred the backpack to his arms and got Penny settled on his back.
“C’mon, I’ve got these nice muscles for a reason, gotta use ‘em. You could try carrying Tanner, but he’s a big boy now, he doesn’t like being carried anymore.”
Then your son piped up for the first time in a couple minutes, just to agree with his dad, and remind you of the little phase he was going through. “I walk, ‘cause I’m not a baby!”
“You’re always my baby!” You reminded him, leaning down to press a kiss on the baseball cap covering the top of his head.
Once you stood back up to your full height, you made eye contact with Frank next to you, who was sporting a smug grin, satisfied that he had won.
You knew exactly what he was doing—him offering to do everything for you. It had started in one of your first couples therapy sessions, shortly after Frank’s addiction came to light.
You had mentioned to the therapist that this was probably overdue, and described the issues you two had been dealing with for a while, which was how Frank’s job often got in between him and the family.
Your therapist understood the situation, and came up with a solution so quickly, you were sure he had prescribed it to at least a hundred other couples who came into his office.
He said that although the stress of Frank’s job was clearly hard on your marriage, it was not an uncommon problem, or one that was usually solved as soon as most people wished it could be. So in the interim, he suggested Frank try easing the load on your back in any little ways he could. Doing extra chores around the house, prepping the kids’ outfits or snacks before he leaves for work in the morning, all that.
Frank not only agreed to this little homework assignment, but he decided at that moment that he would go all the way with it. He needed you to know that he was serious about your marriage and your family.
He had to prove that you were more important to him than the ED, or the pills, or his own ego. And if a marriage professional told him any way to help get his desperate intentions across, you could bet all your money that he was going to do it.
And honestly, you had gotten his message and felt quite a bit better after the first couple weeks or so, but Frank was absolutely not stopping there.
He still wasn’t relenting in his quest to make you feel loved and appreciated, even on your little family day out at the zoo.
Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but smile at him. But you couldn’t just spend the whole day blushing and grinning at your husband, so you looked to your son and then pointed at the large green sign welcoming you in.
“Okay then, big boy, wanna go run to that sign over there and grab a couple maps for us so we can start the day?”
Tanner looks up at you, wide-eyed. “You said no running!”
You bit the inside of your cheek, while Frank just laughed out loud at your son’s qualm.
“You’re right. Good listening.” You praised his listening skills. “Okay, do you want to walk over there to grab some maps?”
He nodded, then headed to the sign in a speedy walk over to the display. You watched as he grabbed a handful of the brightly-coloured pamphlets, then made his way back to you with a proud smile strung across his chubby cheeks.
“I got four! So we can all have one!” He announced happily.
You didn’t have the heart to tell him that neither he nor his baby sister could navigate with a map, so you just smiled and kept quiet. Besides, maybe letting him have this free map would let you save money on souvenirs later on.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” You said to him, gently plucking one from the stack in his hand. “Now we can plan out our trip!”
Tanner hands one map to his dad, and Frank spreads it out as well, looking over all the attractions and exhibits clearly laid out on the paper.
You read things over for a second, and then spoke up again to both your kids. Another rule for the day. “Okay, this is a big zoo, so we may not get to see all the animals today. So we’re all gonna pick one animal each that we have to see, and then everything else, we’ll try our best to see, but no complaining if we don’t get there. Do we agree to these terms?”
Your son thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly. You then looked at Penny, and Frank poked her side, prompting her to respond the same as her big brother.
This agreement made you happy enough, so you didn’t press for anything else to solidify their promises.
“Well, I know Penny wants to see the giraffes, right, baby?” You asked her, and the girl’s face immediately burst into a smile. “Yeah, you want that to be your top animal of the day?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded, the brim of her little bucket hat bobbing as she did. “Yeah! Giraffe!”
Now, Penny’s choice was easy. She’s been obsessed with giraffes for the past few months, ever since Dana had gifted her a picture book about them for her second birthday. She was even wearing a t-shirt with giraffes on the front, perfect for today.
Tanner on the other hand, was not such a sure answer. He liked all kinds of animals, and he seemed to have a new favourite every week based on whatever his friends at school were into.
You looked down to see your son thinking hard over this decision. He was pinching his chin, and he had zoned out while looking at Frank’s leg while pondering.
You knew that if you didn’t help him pick an animal, your family might never leave the zoo entrance, so you had to step in and offer something. “I’m gonna choose the gorillas, bud, if that helps you narrow down your list at all. I know you like the monkeys too.”
“I do.” He confirmed. “But I also like crocodiles, and lions, and warthogs, and tigers! I don’t know what one to pick!”
“Well, you said crocodiles first. That means you were thinking about them the most, right? They’re probably your favourite right now.”
“I like crocodiles a lot.”
“So you wanna pick them as your number one today?”
You understood that this was a serious decision for a four year-old, so you weren’t rushing or pushing him, you were merely trying to suggest things to clear up some of the racing thoughts in his little head.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
You clapped quietly, happy with his choice, and the fact that you could get your day started. “Yay! Crocodiles it is! But don’t worry, we’ll try our best to see as many of the animals as we can.”
He seemed very content with this solution and your promise—as if he was really going to let anything bring him down on zoo day—and so you were just as happy as your son.
“What’s Daddy’s animal?” Tanner asked, and Frank’s attention was brought away from the zoo map in his free hand with a small questioning hum when he heard his name.
“Everyone’s picking one animal that we have to see today, just in case we don’t have time to see everything.” You explained again. “Tanner’s asking what you want.”
He thought for a second, staring at the sky with the tip of his tongue in between his lips. “What’s been picked already?”
“Penny chose giraffes, obviously.” You started, then Frank shrugged in agreement with your last word.
“Tanner chose the crocodiles, and I picked the gorillas.”
He didn’t hesitate with his decision now. “I’ll choose gorillas, then.”
You rolled your eyes. So did Tanner, but his was for a different reason. Yours was because you knew exactly what he was doing, but your son was rolling his eyes because he had no idea what his dad was doing, or even that he was doing anything at all.
“Mommy already said that!” He informed Frank.
Frank shrugged, careful about not jostling Penny on his shoulders. “You never said that two people can’t choose the same thing! I found a loophole.”
Tanner had no time to deal with his father’s nonsense, but you wanted to indulge. Let’s see where this goes.
“It’s not a loophole, Frankie, it’s a waste of a pick. We were already gonna see the gorillas.”
He leaned closer to you and spoke softly. It was almost his bedroom voice, but the one he uses almost exclusively for apology sex. “Not a waste. We’ll just spend twice as much time looking at the monkeys.”
You leaned in as well, mimicking his actions. “Too bad they’re apes.”
Frank inhaled and put on a dramatic thinking face. “Mm, pretty sure you’re wrong about that. But, I guess that just means we’ll have to spend a bunch of time at their exhibit to see who really knows more about them.”
There it was. Your loving, kind husband trying to prove how much you mean to him in the most annoying, unsubtle ways he could think of.
You rolled your eyes once more, but this time, you couldn’t hide the grin strung across your cheeks.
“You’re so dumb.” You told him with a smirk. He knew exactly what you really meant.
Frank pressed a soft kiss against your lips, which had both of your kids making exaggerated grossed out sounds.
“I think you mean incredible. And tall, like the giraffes!” He said, which made Penny now squeal with joy. “They’re the closest pavilion to where we are, so Princess Penny will get to see her favourites very soon!”
And with that, the family was off on your expedition. Tanner walked a few feet ahead of the rest of you, mindful of the rules you made clear in the parking lot. Penny was ecstatic on her dad’s shoulders, and Frank insisted he was okay with carrying her plus the backpack.
As you walked towards the Savanna animals, you carefully placed your hand in your husband’s. He gladly accepted, entwining your fingers together without missing a beat.
You both looked at each other, sporting small smiles that said a lot more than you wanted to say in public.
“I love you, Frank.”
The reminder wasn’t necessary, but it was something that offered Frank a lot of comfort as you both worked together to repair your family.
“I know.” Frank said smugly.
Always so cocky, even when he was being as sincere as possible. You liked it a lot.
Currently hyper fixated on Jack and pregnant!reader 🥹 Because like let’s say you’re waddling around your kitchen in the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep with the uncomfortable size of your tummy at this point. We’re talking third trimester, any day now timeline. In walks Jack post shift, exhausted and grateful to be home. He sets his bag down and slides his shoes off at the door. He knows you’ve been struggling with sleeping through the night, but still moves through the house quietly in case you are.
He can hear you puttering around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you change your mind twenty different times about what you’re craving. He leans against the wall, a crinkly eyed smile on his face watching you. Amused by you. Amazed by you. His sleepy girl who’s creating a tiny life inside of her. You’re in one of his old band T-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and fluffy socks. Your hair’s up and disheveled with puffy, sleepy eyes to tie together the ‘hot mess express’ look you’re sporting. And Jack loves it.
Nothing screams ‘sexy’ to Jack like the woman he loves carrying his child. You could be wearing a fucking garbage bag and Jack Abbot still wants up in those guts, baby. You let out a little yawn while steeping your tea under the light above the stove, gasping in surprise as he comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms under your belly. He lifts it, earning an actual moan of relief from you. You could cry, it feels that fucking good. The last few weeks have been hell for your lower back, and you’ve been fussing about it (reasonably so) to Jack more often. Your heart just melts at the thought of him picking up a tip or two from the OBGYN nurses at the hospital.
“You get any sleep, mommy?” he mumbles into your shoulder.
“A little. I think we’re having a rockstar, babe. She loves partying into the early hours of the morning, this one. She’s been kicking me since three a.m.” Jack can’t help but chuckle at the havoc your unborn daughter is already wreaking on you.
“Does this help?” he asks. You nod your head appreciatively.
“Jack, it feels so good. Thank you,” you sigh blissfully. You relax into his arms, letting your head lull back lazily against his warm chest. “How’d you know this would help?”
“Dana actually gave me this one. I jus’ felt awful watchin’ you be so uncomfortable. Broke my heart, baby.” He kisses the side of your head tenderly.
“You know what’s breaking my heart right now?” Jack’s head perks up, caught off guard and slightly confused by your question.
“What’s that?” he asks, tentative.
“That we’re all out of chocolate chips, and now I can’t make chocolate chip pancakes,” you whine. Jack can’t help but laugh. You laugh too, you know it sounds ridiculous. But it also sounds so good.
“I see a Door Dash order from Denny’s in my future,” Jack says. You let him gently drop your belly before turning to face him.
“Hmm…I was thinking Waffle House,” you smile. The lack of sleep and backaches are totally worth mornings like this. And - despite the crying - even more so after the birth of your daughter.
(the pitt s2 e1 when it’s implied that garcia can’t keep quiet during sex, except in this scenario you’re garcia.)
dennis whitaker x fem!reader
cw: pure filth, slight sub!dennis, and garsantos crumbs
“what do we got?” you enter the room, adjusting the glove on your hand to your liking.
dr. robby gives a brief introduction of you to the new attending physician.
“meet dr. baran al-hashimi, new ed attending. she’s going to be covering for me while i’m gone.”
“so nice to meet you.”
“likewise. i was getting sick of the old man,” you reply, putting on the procedure gown.
“oh, i’ll miss you too,” robby says. “she has a hard time expressing her feelings,” he tells dr. al-hashimi.
santos chimes in, “not all of them, apparently.” she raises her brows before returning her attention to the patient.
the night before. . .
your nails run down dennis’s chest as you keep a steady pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the entire room.
“oh fuck,” dennis mutters, a whimper leaving his throat as your warm walls clench around him. “baby, ‘m so close,” he tells you, his fingers giving your hips a squeeze.
“right there with you,” you breathe out, continuing your movements. you lift yourself up, letting almost all of his size leave your cunt, before sinking right back down—feeling the way the tip of his dick hits your sweet spot every time.
dennis does his best to follow your pace, thrusting his hips up to meet you, but quickly faltering in his actions and eventually giving up.
“jesus, dennis—you won’t even help a girl out, will you?” you told him as you ultimately took over the hard work.
not that he’s complaining. he loves it when you take over.
“you feel so good,” he moans out, his eyes fluttering at the sensation of you riding him.
you trail a hand up his chest before running your index finger over his bottom lip and slowly sliding it into his mouth.
dennis wastes no time wrapping his pretty pink lips around it, swirling his tongue around your digit. all while holding eye contact—something he knows sends you over the edge.
your breathing quickens at the sight and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten. “you’re dangerous.”
he hums as you slowly retract your finger from his mouth. “yeah?” he murmurs.
“oh my god, i’m almost there,” you mutter, using your last bit of strength to guide dennis’s hand towards your clit.
he rubs his thumb against your sensitive bud once, twice, then three times, until you’re finally seeing stars.
a soft moan escapes your mouth and you clench around his cock once more, causing dennis to follow in your footsteps.
he throws his head back against the pillow—mouth agape and eyes sewn shut—a loud groan leaving his lips. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” he whispers under his breath.
you two were so caught up in the pleasure of it all that you completely forgot there was company.
in the next room, santos stares at the ceiling frozen in place. she just had to listen (not willingly) to an hour of two of her closest coworkers getting it on.
“never even thought i’d hear the day,” she mutters.
garcia, next to her in bed, lets out a sigh and flips over to rest on her side. “let’s just hope they don’t go multiple rounds.”
“are we ever that bad?”
“go to sleep.”
so obsessed with him rn it’s unhealthy.
divider not by me. likes and reblogs are appreciated!
summary: reader has to take her kids to the emergency room, but workers of said emergency room are mainly unaware of their intern being a dad and a partner. confusion ensues, explanations are told.
word count: 3.3K
content warnings: none that i can think of. unless you don’t like kids.
mdni!, nothing nsfw but just as a principle
read on ao3
thank you to my beautiful moots/proof readers @idkwhenimadethisaccountlol @munchym
Sitting in the busy waiting room of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was not how you had intended on spending your Saturday afternoon, but with the cold weather and the influx of germs and illnesses doing the rounds, it was bound to spread into your household at some point.
Your youngest was only a few months old, and with your eldest having been sent home from pre-k a few days earlier due to bug going around her class, it wasn’t too much of a surprise when your son started to show a fever just after your fiancé left for work that morning.
If it weren’t for the large pileup that had occurred a couple hours earlier, you would have already called ahead to see if you could get in sooner, but at the moment your son’s fever wasn’t cause for immediate concern and you wanted Dennis to focus on the patients who needed him. Which left you stuck out in the noisy waiting room with one child resting on your chest and the other struggling to contain her energy, but thankfully for you a kind old lady was entertaining her whilst you kept your son content.
A nurse called out your son's name, and you stood, the lady helping you put your bag on your shoulder and guiding your daughter's hand to yours as you made your way through to the department.
The young nurse by the name of Emma introduced herself to you and guided you through the bustling chaos of the emergency room towards the pediatric room decorated with bright colors and animals, addressing you by your full name to which you told her to just call you by your first name and introducing your daughter and son to her as well.
“You did the right thing coming in. It’s all too common for simple bugs to turn much worse in young infants,” Emma reassured, taking his temperature as your daughter started telling her new friend all about something that happened at school the other day.
“I know. She was a menace for it when she was a baby, and her dad always encouraged to bring her in when it got to a certain point.”
Emma said that she was going to keep you in for a little while and ask a doctor to be assigned to your son's case, and that she would bring in some toys when she had the chance.
“Hey, Dana?” Emma asked, walking up to the charge nurse who was reviewing some charts at the hub.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Have they moved the toy box somewhere, I can’t seem to find it and there’s this sister of an infant patient who is probably going to be here for a few hours,” Emma explained, waiting as Dana finished what she was doing before thinking about the issue posed to her.
“Go look in the storage closet near the reception desk,” Dana responded, tucking her glasses back into her scrub pocket.
Emma wondered off, but not before asking for a doctor to be assigned to the case and making an offhand comment about the patient having the same last name as Whitaker, causing Dana and Robby to turn to said doctor, watching as his head perked up from where he had been sat at a desk after a heavy trauma.
He stood up to get a better view of the patient board, scanning it until he found the name he was looking for.
“Huckleberry?” Trinity asked, giving her friend a look as he turned to look into the pediatric bay, but everyone’s question that was beginning to form was answered when the little girl appeared from the bay upon spotting the man.
“Daddy!”
She came barreling into him, and with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before, Whitaker picked up the girl before she could run into his legs and settled her on his hip, her little arms coming around his neck to hug him. The doctors and nurses gathered around the hub looked at the situation before them in confusion.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Dennis asked, giving his daughter a kiss on her head.
She began babbling on about how her baby brother wasn’t feeling very well and because Nana and Grandpa were on vacation it meant she had to come with you and how bored she was, sprinkling in random facts that had nothing to do with the situation that could only come to fruition within a toddler’s head, and he listened to every word with such intent as she carried on, spotting you and giving you a smile when you saw your daughter in Dennis’ arms.
“Wow, that’s a lot, ladybug. Thank you for telling me,” He spoke, placing her to sit on the desk, his hands keeping her steady whilst she swung her legs back and forth.
“What do you need, Whitaker?” Robby asked, being one of the few who was aware of Dennis’ family.
“Uh, if I can’t do it myself then I don’t care, just someone competent,” Dennis said, his eyes still focused on where you were rocking your son.
“Okay. Take a break-”
Dennis didn’t hang around to hear anything else, picking his daughter back up and walking towards the room you were in and shutting the door behind him to quiet the noise of the department, leaving his colleagues to stare after him with wide eyes.
“Whitaker has kids?” McKay asked incredulously, saying what everyone was thinking.
“And a wife?” Javadi added.
“And he didn’t tell us?” Santos looked horrified that her friend had kept it a secret for so long when they’d been working together for over a year.
“Not a wife, not yet at least, he proposed to her a few months ago,” Dana said, looking at the amusing array of confused faces, “He doesn’t keep it a secret, you just don’t ask. If you want to know something about someone, then you ask them a question.”
With that, Dana went off to go find a doctor to go and look at your son whilst the rest of them mulled over their thoughts about the newfound information.
“Momma, I found Daddy,” your daughter giggled as Dennis set her down on a chair in the room, whilst you gently laid your son back in the medical cot.
“I see that, bug,” you smiled gently, letting Dennis envelope you in a tight hug, rubbing his hands up and down your back.
“Hey, baby,” he muttered against your temple, “Why didn’t you call?”
“I was going to, his temp started climbing just after you left, and if it was really bad I would’ve, but then that pile up happened and I knew you’d be slammed and I didn’t want to bother anyone and they reassured me that if he got worse then we’d be brought through but it’s fine because we’re here now and-”
“I get it, it’s okay,” Dennis shushed you, holding you tighter, “But please tell me next time, it doesn’t matter what else is going on, I’m always going to put you first.”
You pulled away when the door opened to reveal a blonde woman with glasses, who introduced herself as Dr. King, and approached your son, cooing at him and smiling whilst Dennis and you filled her in on what was going on. Between their knowledge, Mel and Dennis formed a plan for some tests and treatment if needed, before she slipped out of the room to go check on another patient.
Dennis stroked your son's cheek, smiling when he reached for him and gladly obliging, holding him close, mumbling to him, and it was at that moment that Emma came back with a small toy box for your daughter to witness the ridiculously domestic scene of the normally private doctor.
“Dr. Whitaker?” Emma asked, holding the box whilst your daughter started buzzing with excitement and trying to see what toys were in it.
Dennis turned, “Hi, Emma, thank you for looking after them.”
“They’re your...?”
Dennis nodded.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! If I’d have known they were your family, I would’ve let you know and got them back quicker–“ Emma started rambling, placing the box down and putting her hands together in apology.
“Emma, we’re good,” Dennis reassured her, “There’s another case coming in, why don’t you go help them, I’ve got it for now.”
Emma left once again, leaving the two of you to your little family, Dennis sitting down on the floor to play with your daughter in whatever game she had started with the toys and her imagination and you disappeared to go get coffee after your long morning, your fiancé instructing you to get some from the staff room which wasn’t much better than the cafeteria coffee, but at least it was fresher.
From across the department, eyes followed you, tracking your movements as you disappeared into the quiet sanctuary.
“Can you believe he never told us?” Javadi gaped, eyes flicking between where you’d gone and the room that Dennis could be seen making grand gestures and stupid faces whilst his daughter laughed in glee as she ran in circles around him until he intercepted her path, pulling her into his lap and tickling her, keeping an eye out for any changes in your sons' vitals as he did so.
“I mean, did you ever really ask about it, or did you just assume you knew everything about him?” Joy asked, not really having much interest, “Maybe he just views you as colleagues not friends or wants to keep whatever joy he has separate from this draining place.”
“But I am his friend,” Trinity muttered.
Not long later, Dennis stuck his head out of the room, catching the attention of everyone still stood at the hub, “Can someone just keep an eye on these two, please? I just want to talk to her quickly.”
Perlah was the first one in action, handing her tablet over to Princess before she could move, more than happy to spend some time with your kids instead of dealing with another drunk from chairs, immediately saying something to make your daughter laugh whilst Dennis walked over to Trinity and pulled her to the lockers, clearly not the ‘her’ everyone was expecting him to talk to.
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad, why would I be mad?”
“Because I have a fiancé and kids that you’ve never met before.”
Trinity scoffed, “More like never heard of before.”
Dennis recoiled slightly in confusion, his brows furrowing and his mouth slightly open in shock.
“You’ve never told any of us, I thought we were friends but clearly not.”
“Wait, Trinity, I have literally shown you photos of my kids.”
It was Trinity’s turn to be confused, wracking her brain as to when he’s done that before, only recalling times when she thought he was speaking about his brothers nieces and nephews, especially with how much he talked about visiting ‘Nana and Grandpa’.
“Like the ones from Easter? That I showed you because I don’t like posting them on social media, when we were having dinner at my fiancés grandparents?”
“Oh my god, Huckleberry, you couldn’t have been more explicit that they were yours? I thought they were your brothers kids and they were bringing them to visit your grandparents.”
“What?” By this point, both Dennis and Trinity were thoroughly confused.
“I mean you’re only an intern, I didn’t think you would have two kids by this point, how did you even afford that? You know what, I don’t… explain it to me, from the top.”
“Are you serious?”
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
Dennis chuckled, and did as he was told.
He explained how you and him were childhood friends from Broken Bow, but had much bigger plans for yourself than staying in that small town in Nebraska, both wanting to move to a big city and pave your own paths. Eventually those two lovesick fools realized they were more than friends, and your families were happy for the both of you.
That was until you got pregnant towards the end of college, they didn’t necessarily approve of it at the time – although in recent years had become less frosty about it once you’d proved that you were both more than capable of being good parents. But by the point that your families were beginning to argue about the future baby, you and Dennis were already planning to move states to be nearer your grandparents, who both adored their only granddaughter and didn’t frown when they heard you were going to become young parents, because it wasn’t like you’d done it on purpose and didn’t believe you had to give up your dreams when you had a good support system in them.
From there you both worked hard to be good partners, good parents, and good at your studies to get your dream jobs. The two of you didn’t pretend that it wasn’t hard, but with a strong relationship with Nana and Grandpa, it definitely meant that the two of you could chase your dreams and support having your little ladybug, at which point in the story, Dennis pulled the chain he wore out from under his scrubs and showed Trinity the ladybug and bear charms he wore on it.
“She was obsessed with ladybugs when she was little, and he has a little stuffed teddy bear that he loves.”
“Sweet. Carry on with the story, we don’t have all day.”
He told her all about the days he struggled to carry on with med school, wondering if it was worth it and if he should just quit and get a job to support you more instead of relying on your grandparents, but you (and them) refused to let him give up.
The evenings when he would get home on time and have his little girl come running to him in glee, and the way his son would settle on his chest when he would wake up in the night, the way you would cuddle up to him on the couch watching your favorite films together, the family dinners with his honorary grandparents made him work even harder so that one day he could pay you all back and give you the lives you deserved.
The support and love he got from you and your grandparents and the support he gave in return made it all worth it, and the proudness his daughter would tell anyone who would listen that her dad was a doctor made his heart swell with joy that he’d made something of himself that his little one could be proud of.
“They’re my sanctuary, they keep me sane when this place drives me crazy, and I didn’t want you guys to not know my family it’s just… Everyone created a version of me in their heads and it felt kind of awkward to shatter that perception, especially since I don’t have many friends here.”
Trinity rolled her eyes at the sickly sweetness of it all, even when deep down she wished to have that support for herself instead of the shitty hand she was dealt with, “You have plenty of friends here, you just never come out with us. Now we know why.”
Dennis smiled sheepishly, crossing his arms in front of him, “Would you like to meet her? It would be helpful if you were acquainted with each other before the wedding, although that’s not going to be for a while.”
“Fine.”
Dennis led the way to the staff room, finding you stood there with Dana, sharing stories about work over a cup of coffee and a glass of water from the headache you had developed from the stress of the day.
“Hey, Den,” you said, placing your mug down and letting him wrap you in a hug again, “Who’s looking after the kids?”
“Perlah,” he told you, placing a kiss on your head, “They’re okay. Mel said she was going to check in on little man in a bit.”
Dana gave you two a pat on the arm and left the three of you to it, closing the door quietly behind her.
“You must be Trinity,” You broke the silence first, holding out your hand, “So nice to finally meet you.”
She shook it with slight suspicion, “Yeah, and you. Not that I knew you existed.”
“Trinity,” Dennis gave her a look, having retreated from you and crossed his arms in front of him once again.
“Sorry about that, we’re both such private people, all things considered,” you explained, “Coming from a place where everyone and their grandmother knows your business makes you hold thing closer to your chest, I suppose, or else the whole town knew your secrets.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
You spoke a while longer until it ended up being disturbed by Robby giving his sternest attending look, telling Santos to get back to work and you two to get back to your kids so Perlah could continue helping get through the backlog in the waiting room.
Eventually the tests were done, your daughters energy spent – leading to her being fully crashed out asleep on her dads chest, said dad being on call with his future grandparents-in-law – and Mel was briefing you on the antibiotics your son would need after his temperature started coming down and he was diagnosed.
“Yes, Nana, we’ll be okay, enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Dennis spoke softly into the phone, trying not to wake up his little ladybug who was snuggled up to him under his jacket that he’d pulled from his locker.
“Yeah, love you too, bye.”
You had your son back in your arms, and putting the meds into your bag as Emma was finishing off the discharge papers, whilst Dennis slowly maneuvered himself up out of the chair in the corner and readjusting his grip on your daughter.
“You’re all set,” Emma smiled, “You’re free to head home, Robby said he’ll deal with any of your handovers.”
You left the room, making sure you had everything, and made your way towards some of Dennis’ coworkers to say goodbye, Dana giving you a hug and technically formally introducing yourself to some of the others, putting a whole load of faces to the names you’d heard many times.
“Look, if you ever need some help, let me know,” Trinity offered, changed out of her scrubs now as the five of you exit the building.
“Uh, Trin, you don’t really like kids,” Dennis said, pointing out the obvious.
“Oh yeah, no, I mean if you need help letting loose. Park those kids with their great grandma and grandpa and we’re going out,” Trinity smirked.
“I am absolutely taking you up on that offer,” you smiled, pausing as you reached your car.
“I’ll get your number from Huckleberry later,” Trinity called over her shoulder, “Get home safe.”
Dennis had been busying himself by putting your daughter in her car seat, moving extra slow to ensure she remained asleep, although there were some tired protests from her when she lost contact with her dad and some cooing from Dennis to ease her back into whatever fantastical dream she was having, while you made a move to put your son into his car seat.
The two of you then got into the front of your car, Dennis reaching across the console to place a hand on your thigh, both of your heads leaning to look at each other from your slumped positions in your respective seats.
“What about your car?” You asked him, not expecting him to get into the passenger seat.
He shrugged, “I’ll get a ride with Trinity next shift, take it home afterwards. I’ve already asked Robby to move my day off so I can help tomorrow until your grandparents get back.”
You smiled, thankful for his initiative and the fact that you could just spend the rest of the weekend together as a family, even if your youngest wasn’t feeling the best, it meant he could get better with both of his parents at his side.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
authors note: author is incredibly british so if there’s some dialogue that doesn’t sound very #american then that’ll be why. also title is the same as put you first by perrie
we’re also going to ignore the fact that pedes can’t be seen from the main hub, i’ve only just found the floor layout of the ed
Summary: Dennis is crushing on another med student. Will a girls night in finally give him the courage to tell her how he feels?
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The apartment smells faintly like microwave popcorn and Trinity’s overpriced candles. Shoes kicked off by the door, textbooks stacked in uneven piles, a hoodie draped over the back of the couch that definitely isn’t Trinity’s.
You collapse into that same couch with a groan, your whole body sinking like you might just disappear into the cushions.
“God,” Victoria mutters, dropping beside you, “if one more patient asks me why everything is taking so long I’m going to pass away. Right there. In the hallway.”
You all laugh, the kind that comes out half-delirious after a shift that ran too long and demanded too much. For a moment, everything feels lighter, no monitors beeping, no charts waiting, no constant pressure humming under your skin.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Dennis Whitaker is pacing.
Actually, pacing is generous. He’s… hovering. Taking three steps toward the door, stopping, running a hand through his hair, turning around, repeating.
You’re here.
He heard your voice the second the front door opened. He’d been sitting on his bed, staring at a textbook he hadn’t read in ten minutes, and then, there it was. Soft, familiar, warm in a way that immediately made his chest tighten.
Y/N.
In his apartment.
On his couch.
Laughing.
He presses his palms to his face, dragging them down slowly.
“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Be normal. You are capable of being normal.”
He is not, historically, capable of being normal. Dennis stills for a moment, weighing out his options.
Option one: stay in his room. Safe. Dignified. No risk of saying something stupid.
Option two: go out there. Casual. Chill.
He stares at himself in the mirror.
“Chill,” he repeats.
He does not look chill.
He looks like a man about to walk into a firing squad armed with nothing but anxiety and poor decision-making.
Still, he straightens a little, adjusts his shirt, and takes a breath.
“You’re getting a snack. That’s it,” he says quietly.
A perfectly normal reason to walk into a room where the girl you’ve been hopelessly crushing on for months is sitting.
Totally.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
He makes it three steps into the kitchen before Trinity spots him.
“Hey, Huckleberry!” she calls, way too loud.
He freezes.
Abort mission. Abort—
“Can you bring over the chips in the pantry?”
He nods quickly, because speaking feels like a dangerous gamble right now.
And then—
He makes the mistake of looking.
Your eyes meet his instantly.
Bright, warm, a little tired, but still so you that it hits him like a physical thing. His brain just… stalls.
You smile at him. Easy. Familiar.
Like he doesn’t feel like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.
He looks away almost immediately, grabbing the first snacks he sees just to have something to do with his hands.
Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.
By the time he walks into the living room, you, Trinity, and Victoria are already arguing.
“…I’m just saying Twilight is a classic,” Victoria insists.
“It’s a crime,” Trinity shoots back.
You sit between them, grinning. “You’re both wrong.”
Dennis sets the snacks down carefully, trying to become invisible.
He fails immediately.
“Huckleberry!” Trinity turns to him like she’s just found her secret weapon. “Tell Crash that Twilight is a terrible choice for movie night.”
“Trin, anything is better than those horror movies you like,” you cut in, leaning forward.
“Okay then, genius,” Trinity says, turning to face you, “what do you think we should watch?”
You sit up a little straighter, proud already. “Guardians of the Galaxy.”
Dennis doesn’t even think.
“Yeah,” he blurts, voice a little too quick. “That’s a good one.”
Silence.
Then—
“Yes, see Trinity!?!” you beam, like he just personally validated your entire existence.
His face heats instantly.
Trinity groans. Victoria mutters something under her breath.
“Dennis,” Trinity starts, narrowing her eyes, “stop being a suck up just because you’re in lo—OW—what the fuck?!”
His foot connected with Trinitys shin.
“I—what? I didn’t—” he stammers, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
“Wow,” you say, amused, “violence? During movie selection? Bold.”
“Desperate times,” Trinity mutters, grabbing the remote. “Guardians it is.”
You glance up at Dennis, then shift slightly, making space beside you on the already overcrowded couch.
You pat the spot.
“Sit and watch with us, Denny.”
His brain short-circuits. Denny.
“Oh—no, I have to—”
“Please?”
You pout.
It’s subtle. It’s not dramatic.
It’s, unfortunately for him, devastating.
“…okay,” he says immediately.
Of course he does.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The couch is small.
That becomes apparent the second he sits down.
Your thigh presses against his. Your arm brushes his.
Every nerve in his body lights up like he’s been electrocuted.
He sits up straight, hands awkwardly clasped, staring very intently at the TV like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Do not look at her.
Do not look at her.
Do not—
He looks.
Your face is closer than he expected. Way closer.
You’re already looking at him.
Your smile is softer now. Quieter.
And for a second, everything else fades.
“Hey,” you whisper, leaning in just enough that your voice doesn’t carry, “are you okay? You seem tense.”
He nearly chokes on nothing.
“I—uh—yeah. Just—long shift,” he manages.
You nod, understanding immediately.
Of course you do.
Your hand comes up, resting lightly on his forearm. Your thumb moves back and forth in a slow, absent motion.
Grounding.
Gentle.
Real.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “I get that. Try to relax a little, okay? You look like you’re about to snap in half.”
He lets out a quiet, nervous laugh, shoulders finally dropping just a fraction.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“There we go,” you say softly.
“Shh!” Trinity hisses from the other side of you.
You both laugh quietly, turning back to the movie.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Dennis does not absorb a single second of the plot.
Not one.
He is acutely aware of everything else, though.
The warmth of you pressed against him.
The faint scent of your shampoo.
The way your hand eventually slips away, but the ghost of it lingers.
And then gradually, you go quiet. Your movements slow. Your head tilts. And before he can even process it—
You’re resting against his shoulder.
He inhales sharply, freezing all over again.
Do not move.
He turns his head just slightly, careful, so careful, not to wake you.
Your face is relaxed, lashes resting against your cheeks, lips parted just enough to let out soft, steady breaths.
You look…
He swallows.
You look unfair.
Like something he’s not supposed to have.
Something he doesn’t even know how to reach for.
“God,” Trinity mutters from across the couch, breaking the moment, “Huckleberry, you are so pathetic.”
He startles. “What? I—what are you talking about?”
Victoria leans forward, smirking. “When are you going to ask her out?”
His stomach drops.
“I’m not,” he says quickly, too quickly. “She doesn’t—she doesn’t like me like that.”
Victoria raises an eyebrow, gesturing vaguely to the situation currently unfolding on his shoulder.
“…right.”
He exhales slowly, looking down at you again.
“Just… forget it.”
Trinity snorts. “Whatever you say. But if you don’t ask her out soon, someone else definitely will.”
That lands.
Hard.
Because he knows she’s right.
He’s seen the way people look at you. The way you light up rooms without trying. The way you care, deeply and genuinely, about everyone around you.
You won’t be waiting forever.
His chest tightens.
“…I know,” he admits quietly.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
The movie ends.
At some point, Victoria had fallen asleep on Trinity’s side, and Trinity gave up on pretending she’s not invested in the plot.
But Dennis doesn’t move.
He can’t.
Not with you still tucked against him, breathing slow and even.
He doesn’t know how long he sits like that.
Eventually, you stir. A small shift. A quiet inhale.
He goes still again, like that’ll somehow stop time.
Your eyes blink open slowly.
For a second, you look disoriented. Then you realize where you are, and who you’re leaning on.
You don’t pull away immediately. Instead, you tilt your head just slightly to look up at him.
“…hi,” you whisper, voice rough with sleep.
“Hi,” he replies, just as quiet.
“You didn’t wake me,” you say.
“Figured you needed the sleep.”
Something flickers in your expression at that. Soft.
“You could’ve,” you murmur.
“Yeah,” he says. “But… I didn’t want to.”
You study him for a second longer.
Then, unexpectedly, you smile.
Not the teasing one. Not the bright, easy one.
Something quieter. Warmer.
“…good,” you say.
And instead of pulling away completely, you stay, just for a second, savoring the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek. The warmth of him grounding you, familiar now, expected, like something you knew he was too shy to ever realize you noticed, or wanted. A small, secret smile tugging at your lips as you let yourself enjoy it.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
A/N ~ Haven't written a fic in a while! hoping to start writing more consistently now :) (please talk to me if you have opinions on The Pitt, no one I know irl watches it :/)
SUMMARY: Jack is that stage in life where a day off can never really be a day off. He always finds something that needs fixing, and as his wife, you’ve grown accustomed to that. You don’t expect him to be so clumsy at it, and you don’t expect to get hurt helping him when the doctor becomes the patient.
NOTES: Injuries (laceration on the arm, fractured ankle), household accidents, mentions of blood, medical setting, established marriage, very sweet and selfless Jack, hurt/comfort vibes.
REQUESTED BY: @dillydallyy
NAVIGATION | PITT MASTERLIST | KO-FI
The rhythmic, heavy thud of the mallet against wood had been echoing through the house for the better part of an hour. Jack was upstairs on the landing, finally tackling the squeaky floorboard that had been driving you mad for weeks. You were down in the kitchen, enjoying the quiet weekend and waiting for the kettle to boil so you could bring him a cup of tea.
The comforting routine shattered in an instant. A sudden, metallic crunch echoed down the stairs, followed by a heavy thud and a sharp, choked gasp of pure agony. The silence that immediately followed was heavy and terrifying.
"Jack?" you called out, your heart leaping into your throat. There was no answer, just the sound of low, ragged breathing. Dropping the mug onto the counter, you bolted up the stairs, your socks slipping slightly on the carpet as you rounded the corner to the landing.
Jack had collapsed against the wall, his face entirely drained of colour and slick with a sudden, cold sweat. His eyes were clamped shut, and his right hand was wrapped desperately around his left forearm. Dark, thick blood was already spilling through his fingers, pooling rapidly on the pale timber he had just been prying up.
"Fuck, Jack," you breathed, dropping to your knees beside him. The sheer volume of blood made your stomach drop, your hands hovering over him, trembling violently. You had seen him in his hospital scrubs a thousand times, completely unshakable in the face of trauma, but seeing him as the patient completely paralysed you.
Jack opened his eyes, the pupils blown wide with shock and pain. Even as his breathing hitched, the seasoned emergency doctor in him fought through the agony. He looked at your shaking hands and forced his voice to remain steady, though it came out as a strained, gravelly rasp.
"Hey, hey, look at me, sweetheart," Jack whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for a second as a fresh wave of pain hit him. "Don't look at the floor. Look at me. I need you to be my hands right now, okay? I slipped with the chisel. It’s deep."
"What do I do? Tell me what to do," you pleaded, your voice cracking as you tried to anchor yourself to his gaze.
"Go to the bathroom. Grab the first aid kit from the cabinet, and grab a clean towel," he instructed, his breath hitching as he shifted his weight. "Move fast, honey. Go on."
You scrambled to your feet, your socks skidding on the hallway runner as you burst into the bathroom. You grabbed the heavy medical kit and yanked a towel off the shelf, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Within seconds, you were back on the floor beside him, unfolding the towel with trembling fingers.
"Okay, I'm here. I have it," you said, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Good girl," Jack murmured, his head leaning back against the wallpaper. "I need you to open the kit and get the thickest trauma dressing in there. If not, the towel will do. You need to apply direct pressure right over my hand. Don't be gentle, sweetheart. You have to push down hard."
You nodded, swallowing down the rising panic. You folded the towel into a thick pad and placed it directly over his bleeding arm. As Jack slowly pulled his own crimson-stained hand away, the sight of the jagged, deep laceration made your vision swim, but you didn't hesitate. You placed both hands on the towel and leaned your entire body weight into his arm.
Jack let out a sharp, agonised groan, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans as his body went rigid.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you sobbed, tears finally blurring your vision.
"Don't be sorry," he panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder now, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "You're doing perfectly. Keep holding it like that. We need to stem the flow before I can try to stand up."
For a few minutes, the landing was silent save for the sound of your combined, ragged breathing. You kept every ounce of your weight pressed onto his arm, feeling the warm pulse of his blood beneath the heavy fabric. Slowly, the bright red seeping through the white towel seemed to slow down, the direct pressure doing its job.
"Is it stopping?" you whispered, looking down at his pale face.
"It's slowing," Jack managed, offering a weak, strained version of his usual reassuring smile. "You're amazing, you know that? My brilliant girl. Now, we need to tie it off tight. Use the roller bandage from the kit. Wrap it over the towel, as tight as you can manage."
Working with one hand while keeping pressure with the other, you managed to fish out the heavy bandage. Under his quiet, patient whispers, you wrapped the fabric securely around his arm, pulling it taut until Jack gave a tight nod of approval.
"That’s it. That’s got it for now," Jack breathed, leaning back against the wall with a sigh of sheer exhaustion. His face was still ghostly pale, but the immediate, terrifying torrent of blood had been contained. "Now, can you grab your phone? We need to get the crew out here."
"It's on the top step," you said, turning your head to look at the mobile device resting just a few feet away near the banister.
You started to shift your weight to stand up, your muscles stiff from the tension. But as you moved, your foot found the slick, wet patch of blood that had splattered onto the edge of the exposed, loose floorboards. Before you could even register the lack of friction, your foot shot out from under you.
"Whoa—!" you cried out, your hands flailing for a grip that wasn't there.
Your momentum carried you sideways, right over the lip of the top step. With a sharp gasp of terror, you tumbled awkwardly down the first half-flight of stairs, your body bouncing painfully against the carpeted steps before you landed with a dull, heavy thud against the wall of the half-landing.
A searing, white-hot pain immediately exploded in your left ankle, so intense that it stole the air right out of your lungs. You lay there on your side, pinned to the floor by the sudden, throbbing agony, clutching your leg as tears stung your eyes.
"Honey? Sweetheart, talk to me!" Jack’s voice echoed down the stairwell, completely stripped of its professional calm. It was pure, unadulterated panic. "Are you alright? Answer me!"
"My ankle," you gasped out, your voice small and choked with pain. "Jack, I can't move it. It hurts so bad."
From the top of the stairs, you heard a heavy drag and a grunt of pain as Jack, completely disregarding his own severe injury, began crawling toward the edge of the landing. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with horror as he saw you curled into a ball on the landing below.
"Don't move, honey. Just stay completely still," Jack commanded, his voice thick with emotion as he held his bandaged arm tightly against his chest. "I'm coming down to you."
"Stay there, Jack, don't move!" you cried out, looking up at him through a blur of tears. The sight of him dragging himself toward the edge of the stairs, his face entirely grey and his newly wrapped bandage already showing a fresh blossom of crimson, was almost worse than the white-hot agony radiating from your ankle.
"I'm not leaving you down there, sweetheart," Jack panted, his voice strained as he carefully manoeuvred his weight onto his good arm, slowly lowering himself down the first step. Every movement was a battle against shock, his breath catching sharply in his throat with each hitch of his body. "Just keep breathing. Nice, deep breaths for me."
It took him what felt like an eternity, but Jack finally managed to slide down the half-flight of stairs, collapsing heavily onto the landing beside you. He let out a ragged groan, leaning his back against the wall and immediately reaching out with his uninjured right hand to cup your face. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch warm and desperate.
"Look at me, honey. Let me see you," he murmured, his eyes scanning your face, looking for any signs of a head injury before his gaze drifted down to your left leg. "Where does it hurt the most? Is it just the ankle?"
"Yeah," you choked out, squeezing his hand tightly. "I just slipped on the... on the blood, Jack. I tried to grab the phone and my foot just went. It snapped so loud."
"Okay, okay, let me have a look. I'm going to be very gentle, I promise," he whispered, leaning forward slightly. With practiced, tender precision, his steady fingers gently hovered over your ankle, barely brushing the skin. Even that tiny movement made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulder.
"I know, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, his brow furrowed in deep concern as he assessed the rapidly swelling, distorted joint. "It’s a nasty sprain, possibly a fracture. We need to get that elevated and iced, but first, we need to actually call the ambulance. Where's the phone?"
You pointed a shaking finger up toward the top step where your mobile was still resting, completely out of reach for both of you.
Jack let out a dry, breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Plan B. My phone is in my back pocket. Do you think you can reach it? My left arm is completely useless right now."
Carefully shifting your weight while trying not to jar your leg, you slid your hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone. Your fingers were still trembling so hard you almost dropped it, but you managed to unlock the screen and hand it over to him.
Jack didn't dial the standard emergency number; instead, he tapped in a direct line straight to the local ambulance dispatch handling the Pitt’s intake area. He pressed the speaker button, setting the phone down on the carpet between you. Within two rings, a familiar, crisp voice boomed through the speaker.
"Ambulance dispatch, what is the nature of the emergency?"
"Hey, it's Jack Abbot," Jack said, leaning his head back against the wall, his voice dropping into that calm, authoritative tone he used when directing a chaotic trauma bay. "Listen, I need a crew at my house. We've got a bit of a situation here."
There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by the sound of furious typing. "Jack? Dude, what’s gone on? You’re supposed to be off until Monday."
"Yeah, well, the world had other plans," Jack grunted, wincing as he shifted his bandaged arm. "I've managed to put a chisel through my left forearm. Deep laceration, heavy bleeding, but we've got a pressure dressing on it now. My wife just slipped on the landing trying to help me and has taken a tumble down the stairs. Suspected fractured left ankle, severe pain, non-weight bearing."
"Jesus, Jack, you don't do things by halves, do you?" he replied, his voice a mix of professional urgency and fond disbelief. "Alright, I’ve got a unit just three minutes away from your street. It’s Mac and Sally. They're en route now. Keep that pressure on your arm, and keep your wife still."
"Thanks. Tell them the front door is unlocked," Jack said before hanging up. He turned his attention back to you, his expression softening instantly as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Hear that? Three minutes, honey. You're doing so well. I'm so proud of you."
"I was trying to help you, and I just made it worse," you whispered, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "Now you're stuck on the floor because of me."
"Don't you dare worry about that," Jack chided gently, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled you as close to his side as he could manage without hurting either of your injuries. He pressed a firm, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "You stopped the bleeding, sweetheart. You saved me from a massive haemorrhage. If anyone is to blame, it’s me and my DIY projects."
A few minutes later, the heavy thud of the front door swinging open echoed from downstairs, followed by the hurried footsteps of two paramedics moving into the hallway.
"Jack? Where are you, buddy?" a loud, cheerful voice called out from the bottom of the stairs.
"Up on the half-landing, Mac!" Jack shouted back, his voice cracking slightly with the effort. "Mind your step as you come up, it’s a bit of a disaster."
Two paramedics, loaded down with trauma bags and an extraction chair, rounded the corner and stopped dead in their tracks. Mac, a burly man with a thick beard, stared at the two of you huddled together on the small landing. Jack pale and blood-stained, and you clutching a ballooning ankle.
Sally, his partner, let out a loud, astonished bark of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh, you have got to be joking. Jack, what on earth have you done to your poor wife?"
"I didn't do anything to her, she was trying to rescue me!" Jack protested, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he winced as Mac knelt down beside him.
"Hm, likely story, doc," Mac teased, his hands already moving efficiently to check the pulse in Jack’s wrist below the bloody bandage. "Honestly, Jack, we leave you unsupervised for one weekend."
While Mac focused on Jack, Sally slid gracefully onto the floor next to you, opening her kit with a reassuring smile. "Alright, let's have a look at this leg. Jack’s a terrible patient, so you're my priority right now."
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of efficient, careful movement. Sally administered a dose of medication for your pain, which finally took the sharp, agonizing edge off your ankle, while Mac reinforced Jack’s dressing and got him a dose of something strong.
Despite their teasing, the paramedics were incredibly gentle, carefully loading you both onto separate carrying chairs to navigate the rest of the stairs. Jack refused to be loaded into the ambulance first, stubbornly waiting until you were securely inside so he could have his stretcher positioned right next to yours. The entire drive to the hospital, his hand never left yours, his thumb rhythmically stroking the back of your knuckles as he murmured sweet, groggy assurances that everything was going to be fine.
The moment the ambulance doors burst open at the Pitt, the familiar, sterile smell of antiseptic and the hum of bleeping monitors washed over you. But the usual professional quiet of the admissions bay was shattered the instant Mac and Sally wheeled your matching gurneys through the automatic sliding doors.
"Heads up, team, we've got a double intake!" Mac called out at the top of his lungs, a massive, mischievous grin on his face. "Your best doctor has managed to incapacitate the entire Abbot household."
The reaction was instantaneous. Langdon, who had been charting at the central desk, dropped his pen entirely, his jaw hitting the floor. "What the... Dr Abbot?"
Dana emerged from Bay 4, a clipboard tucked under her arm, but stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes darting from Jack’s heavily bandaged, blood-stained arm to your elevated, ballooning ankle. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. The hell did you do to this lovely lady, Jack?"
Within seconds, a small crowd of familiar faces converged on the two stretchers. Mel hurried over from the staff room, a half-eaten sandwich still in her hand, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and absolute amusement. "Oh my… are you okay? Well clearly not but… what happened?”
"I slipped on his blood!" you called out, the pain medication making you laugh weakly as the stretchers were wheeled side-by-side into the major trauma bays.
Robby walked out of the resuscitation unit, snapping off a pair of surgical gloves, his expression instantly melting into a look of profound, theatrical despair. He walked over to the foot of Jack’s bed, crossing his arms. "Abbot. I leave you in charge of your own home for twenty-four hours, and you bring your lovely wife into my ER on a stretcher? Explain yourself."
"It was a loose floorboard, Robby," Jack groaned, the morphine making his voice deep and slightly slurred, though he still managed to shoot a mean glare. "The chisel slipped. She was brilliant, actually. Total natural."
"And then she fell down the stairs because you're a terrible husband," Trinity chimed in, leaning against the doorframe of the bay with a massive smirk on her face. She looked over at you, giving you a sympathetic wink. "Don't worry, beautiful, we'll make sure his stitches hurt extra bad for making you go through this."
Samira pushed through the crowd, carrying a fresh bag of IV fluids and a splinting kit. She looked at the two of you, shaking her head in fond disbelief as she began setting up near your bed. "Right, let's get a look at this ankle, shall we?"
Despite the relentless teasing and the chorus of laughter echoing through the department, the underlying warmth and care from the staff were palpable. The curtains between your bays were pulled completely back, creating one large room so Jack could keep his eyes on you. Even as Samira gently examined your leg and Langdon began prepping Jack’s arm for a neat row of sutures, Jack kept his right hand stretched across the gap between the gurneys, his fingers hooked securely around yours.
"You're in good hands, sweetheart," Jack whispered, completely ignoring Trinity and Robby, who were currently debating which one of them got to write ‘DIY FAIL’ on his medical chart. He squeezed your hand tightly, his eyes soft with devotion. "They're going to fix us both up, and I promise you, I am never touching a tool again."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Abbot," Langdon chuckled, pouring sterile saline over Jack’s forearm to clear away the dried blood. He winced on Jack's behalf as the true depth of the laceration was revealed. "Though looking at this, you won't be holding a chisel or a scalpel for at least a few weeks. You've sliced right down. You're lucky you missed the important stuff."
"I told you, she stopped the bleeding," Jack said, his voice thick with pride despite the sharp intake of breath he let out as Langdon administered the local anaesthetic around the edges of the wound. He kept his eyes locked onto yours, his grip on your fingers tightening as the needle did its work. "She was incredible, Langdon. Didn't even faint."
Over on your side of the bay, Samira was carefully wrapping a temporary fiberglass splint around your rapidly bruising ankle, having just come back from reviewing the digital X-rays that Robby had rushed through the scanner. "Well, your brilliant wife has a nasty grade-three sprain and a tiny fracture. No surgery needed, thank goodness, but you're going to be on crutches and a boot for a while."
"Hear that, honey?" Jack murmured, a look of profound relief washing over his pale features as the morphine and the local numbing agent finally took the edge off his pain. "No surgery. You're going to be just fine."
"I'm more worried about you," you admitted, your voice still a little breathless from the lingering adrenaline and the effects of the medication. "You look like you've been through hell."
Dana walked back into the bay, holding a selection of takeaway menus, placing them on the bedside table between your gurneys. "Right, since you two managed to completely ruin your Saturday, the department is buying dinner. Santos wants pizza, Mel wants Thai, so you two get the deciding vote. Consider it a consolation prize for having the most embarrassing admissions of the year."
"Pizza," Jack grunted without hesitation, earning a loud cheer from Santos, who was still lingering near the desk. Jack looked back at you, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. "We'll get the one you like, sweetheart."
As Langdon methodically began placing neat sutures into Jack’s arm, the initial chaotic energy of the department began to settle back into its usual professional rhythm. Robby and Dana headed back to the central desk to handle a new influx of patients from the waiting room, leaving the curtains open just enough for the staff to keep an eye on their favorite patient duo.
By the time Jack’s arm was neatly bandaged and your leg was securely immobilized in a heavy boot, the evening sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long, warm shadows across the trauma bay. A delivery driver had dropped off three massive boxes of pizza, and Samira had kindly brought over two cups of tea, served in the mismatched mugs from the staff room.
Jack managed to shift his gurney a fraction closer to yours, his right arm slung comfortably over the metal guardrail so he could remain completely connected to you. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to both of you, the quiet hum of the hospital a strangely comforting background noise compared to the terror on the stairs just hours earlier.
"I really am sorry, honey," Jack whispered, his voice soft and entirely devoid of the bravado he had shown in front of his colleagues. He leaned his head against the side of his pillow, looking at you with an expression of pure, unfiltered devotion. "I wanted to fix that stupid floorboard so you wouldn't trip on it, and I ended up putting you in a cast instead."
"We're a matching set now," you teased gently, reaching over to squeeze his uninjured hand, gesturing to his heavily wrapped arm and your massive black boot. "Besides, you heard the crew. We really don't do things by halves."
Jack let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound warm and familiar as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your skin. "No, I suppose we don't. But from now on, we are hiring a professional for absolutely everything. Next weekend, you and I are staying on the couch."
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