Ź Hi cuties! Iām totally refreshing my blog. Iāve had this blog for a year now. And I never even introduced myself. My name is rimunagenius (gov gotta be private incase ppl I know also like ts) !!
Here are fandoms iām currently in if you want to dm random hcās, ffās, or just be friends and gossip ab their latest updates and episodes, etc. !!!
WCBB ā Iowa, UConn, SC, and Oregon
Station 19
Criminal Minds ā i will never not be into this fandom i rewatch it every month
Muna
Boygenius
Chicago Fire
Triple Frontier and
Sons of Anarchy
Ź NOTE that this is and will continue to be a safe space for anyone and everyone here and engaging! I will not tolerate any racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and so onā¦you will be blocked.
I would also like to note that I would like to keep this page politics and religion-free. Starts too many arguments and a lot of hate that I do not want associated with my page! (However, I do not support trump and free palestine)
Hereās a schedule of what Iām dropping this week!! Hopefully I actually follow it, I have high hopes. Iāve been more into writing fanfiction than my own homework so I should be able to manage.
Im trying to do requests in the order I get them, I have quite a few and I donāt want to short someone if they requested first! So bear with me
Feel free to harass and send threats if I do not follow this scheduleā¦I will like it ;)
Hi!! How about nurse!reader who just returned from maternity leave, and jack canāt keep his eyes off her new mom body
** I got a bit lost in the sauce and accidentally made her a resident...oops! So sorry, but hope you still enjoy!
Mommy Makeover
Jack Abbot x f!young wife!reader
Warnings: suggestive talk!, Jack being an obsessed husband, fluff, illusions of sex, but not explicitly stated, italics, and a whole lot of foul language...lmk if I'm missing anything!
Starting your first night shift back from maternity leave was truly spiritual warfare. You didnāt know what you were thinking leaving your new baby in your momās hands. Not that she was a bad sitter, sheās watched your siblings children a billion times and you truly trusted her with your life. Literally.
She was still your emergency contact even after you had been married to your husband, Jack, for two years.
You just couldnāt bear the thought going from spending every waking moment with her since she was born, bonding, the barely coherent newborn smiles, the newborn scent, and changing her diapers, to working the night shift again, 30 min from her, til sun up.
You came to the conclusion you not only have severe attachment issues for your husband but now your daughter together. That was a given.
āSheās back!ā Dana called from the nurses station. Wide smile on her face.
āWhoop whoop!ā Pearla and Princess shouted alongside her. You smiled widely at them, feigning small bows and curtesys for them as you made your way to the lockers.
You smiled fondly at the kind gesture your husband had left for you when you got here. He showed up early, something about ācharts from my GSW patientā that needed to be updated. So your mom had dropped you off.
A small lilac sticky note, with āWelcome back, honey. Have a great day, I love you :),ā written on it. You couldnāt get enough of this man.
Today is gonna be a good day. You thought to yourself, unloading your bags into your locker, preparing for your first shift.
You made your way back to the hub to prepare for rounds that started in the next 10 minutes. You couldnāt even make it to the counter before Robby snuck up on you, a hug that lifted you into the air, eliciting a small yelp. It got the attention of everyone from the day shift, their excitement to see you back, not being hidden.
āHi! I missed you guys. I feel like I've been gone too long." You hugged the day shift, not knowing how deeply missed you were.
"Finally, Jack will be less tense." Parker came up, just now arriving for her shift. "He was going nuts." He hugged you from behind, her arms coming across your shoulders.
"He couldn't have been that bad." You gave her a look, not believing your husband had been that much of a hard ass since you've been home.
"He was. Seems like he'll have bigger problems at hand." She motioned to your whole figure. Sizing you up. "Looking good, mama." She seemed very giddy at your appearance. You knew it wasn't objectifying, I mean, she had been your best friend, so this was just purely pre-shift hyping up.
You gave her a spin, the other women at the nurses' station giving their oohs and aahs. Dana agreed, "Yeah, got that new mom bod goin'. You look fabulous."
You noticed your hips got wider, your ass got thicker, and you had more to work with when it came to your boobs. You noticed the change a few weeks after giving birth. Jack was loving it, not that he hadn't before, clearly. But he hadn't seen you in scrubs since your last shift, pregnant belly being the only thing filling your work attire.
Now your scrubs were hugging all the right places. You blushed at everyone's affection, already excited for the new day.
You had been well into your shift, falling back into place like you had never left. You had repaired lacerations from an MVC, unfortunate freak accidents, and even did a few sutures down in triage. You were feeling really good.
Now, you were charting, sitting idly in a chair next to the nurses' station. You hadn't noticed your husband a few feet away, his feet carrying him in your direction. Perhaps that's cause he was moving slowly, taking in the sight of you.
He'd obviously worked with you in some of the traumas that came in earlier in the night, his gaze lingering when you bent over to grab stuff out of the crash carts. But this time, he could appreciate what he was seeing in its fullness. Literally.
He approached you, taking in the sight before him. Your legs close together, the fullness in your thighs looking like they could break free from the scrubs, he silently and selfishly wished they did.
The way you looked so delectable doing absolutely nothing. "Hey, baby, how's your shift going?" He spoke lowly, only so you could hear. His eyes were raking over just about every inch of your figure before he finally made eye contact.
"Hi," You smiled at him. You had missed him. "It's going pretty good so far, forgot how much I missed the ED." You grabbed his forearm, his hand tucked away in his pockets as he took the space next to you.
As fast as you placed it, you removed your hand. He desperately wanted you to put your hand back, not being able to control himself.
"I might die seeing you here." He stated, eyes trained on your charting, not actually paying attention to what it says, though. He couldn't. How could he?
"What?" You looked at him, a soft chuckle escaping your full lips.
"You're literally giving me heart palpatations sitting here, looking like that, and you don't even care." His hand started from your upper back, slowly making it's way to the base of your neck while he spoke. "Forget that I have a smoke show for a wife."
"Oh, Jack. Please. You'll live. You see me every day at home." You rolled your eyes, very playfully. Hiding the blush settling in your cheeks.
A trauma rolled in, Shen calling for Jack, which seemed like a lot, and he couldn't find Ellis. "Yeah, but this," He motioned to you as he started walking away, barely able to rip his eyes off you long enough to see where he was going. "This is heavenly. Maybe I've finally died and gone to heaven."
You couldn't take him sometimes. The dramatics seemingly been increasing over the last few months.
Now, you were assisting in their trauma, standing on one side of the bed, Shen on the other. You had been called in, just to observe watching Jack do his thing. You forgot how good he looked when he was in his zone. Calm, cool, and levelheaded.
But he was pulled away for a brief conversation with the surgeon; you didn't have time to try and hear before Shen was immediately asking for your assistance to take Jack's place.
"His BP's dropping. We need to intubate so they can prep him for the OR." You grabbed the chest tube, angling yourself behind the patient's head, hoping to get the best angle you could. You slid it in, feeding it through the patient's airway, your arms coming closer together as you watched the slack descend.
Jack's conversation was over, and he was now standing a few inches to your right. He should be supervising, watching, and making sure you haven't lost your touch in the four months you had off. He was, but he was also watching the way that your arms closed in on your chest, making your boobs look insanely good.
Of course, there was no cleavage out to the naked eye, though he partly wished there was, but he had seen you naked and in any clothing that left little to the imagination enough times to know exactly what you looked like under.
He was singing your praises at your work as the patient was successfully intubated and ready for transport to the OR, and he just didn't care. Not when you're standing shoulder to shoulder now, and you look the way you do.
He was gawking at his wife, treating patients, and supervising. A lot to do at once, but Jack was a man of efficiency and skill. So who said a man can't multitask at work?
Jack was in the break room, brewing his what, fourth cup of horrible coffee when you had walked in.
A heavy sigh left your lips, you hand in your hair, taking out the ponytail you had put in, deciding to rest comfortably for your little break.
Jack just watched the way you moved. The way your legs carried that beautiful body that gave him a beautiful baby girl, the way when you huffed just seconds ago, your lips settling in their perfect shape, the way your top was literally making you look crazy angelic even though you have mystery fluids adorning the inseams.
You could be wearing a trash bag right now, and he still would be tracing your every move. He was so lost in the way you just existed in his space, in his lifetime, and he was lucky enough to be the one you went home to with, that he hadn't heard you greet him. "Hm?"
You sat perched in the chair he appeared to be sitting in before your arrival. "I said, Hey, baby." Your hair fell onto your shoulders, making you look tirelessly pretty in this godforsaken lighting.
"Hi, sweetheart." He walked over and gave you a kiss. Quick but still sweet.
"I loved your little note you left me in my locker. You're such a cute husband." You giggled as he took the seat next to you, his hand instinctively finding a place on your thigh.
You two didn't care about the closeness and the intimacy now. You two were in a private room away from patients and other coworkers, not like they care, but you and Jack refused to get another HR visit.
Not after you two so carelessly disappeared for a bit too long in one of the on-call rooms. You both definitely went over the possibility that that's how you two conceived your daughter. But you both just let it go.
"Good, I knew you would. Just needed you to start the shift off right." Jack downplayed his affection to merely acts of bare minimum service. You loved him doting on you. He's done it since you both met, you think that's why you fell inlove with him so quickly.
His little acts of affection, whether they were small gifts, little notes like the one he left you this morning, or just doing things he knows you'd appreciate without being asked to.
You kissed his cheek, laying your head on his shoulder. You figured since you had him here, what else to do than to use your husband as a pillow for your resting eyes during your small thirty-minute break.
The silence in which you both sat was completely ruined the second Shen walked in. "There's the new momma." He smiled widely. He hadn't been able to properly greet you, both of you being thrown into traumas and focused on being doctors rather than any formalities.
"Hello." You smiled, your eyes tired, half-opened, but more than welcoming to this conversation.
"You look great, are you sure you just had a baby?"
"Ugh, stop it. Thank you." You swatted a hand his way, blushing incessantly, hiding your face in Jack's neck.
"I see, you somehow get ten times prettier and Jack gets so old he forgot how razors work." He poked fun at his friend.
"Hey, watch it. It only happened once, and I was insanely hungover." He rolled his eyes, you and Shen giggling at his embarrassment.
"I think it looks great. I love the scruffy look." You grabbed his chin, your fingers dancing over the prickly hairs that grew longer by the day on your husband's face. You kissed the corner of his mouth softly.
"Clearly, last time he had it that long, you two announced your pregnancy a week later." Shen rolled his eyes, now disgusted that he remembered that piece of information. "Ew, I actually don't need to be reminded that my older attending's sex life is better than mine."
You and Jack laughed heartily at that, watching him excuse himself and get back to work.
"For the record, you did get ten times prettier. I don't know how anyone is acting normal about this." He nipped at your jaw, peppering kisses anywhere he could. He seriously had a problem.
"Maybe that's because they just see me at work, not in all the ways that make our relationship different from the ones I have with them." You gave him a pointed look, "You're also my husband, you have to say that."
"I absolutely do not. I'm just speaking the truth. Didn't know there were levels to you being so hot." You had to stop Jack from kissing you before this turned into another on-call room fiasco. You could not sleep with your husband at work on your first day back.
"Okay, cool it, Dracula. You cannot eat me alive in this break room." You tried to swat his face away. Failing miserably.
"Can't I? Show everyone why you let me put a baby in you?" You literally choked on the sip of coffee you had stolen from him. You laughed out loud, neck growing redder by the second. Now you really had to leave.
"Absolutely not, Jack. I'm going to work before you baby trap me." You already had a baby together, so there was no use in fighting it.
"I'll let you baby trap me any day. No, seriously, what's this about liking the scruff?" You got up from your seat, indulging as you actively started heading towards the door.
"I think you look very handsome with salt and pepper everywhere." You winked as you looked down. Insinuating something very inappropriate.
"Oh yeah? So does this mean if I keep it, you'll give me another one?" You sighed, not even ready for that type of commitment yet. You just had Tatum; the last thing you were thinking about was having another baby.
"Goodbye, honey." You walked out of the room, leaving Jack, not too far behind, though. But far enough, you didn't have to listen to his nonsense.
Your shift was about to be over, you were just doing a quick once-over of your charts, preparing for the swap as Jack collected your guys' things.
You had been minding your business when you heard someone talking to you. "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you happen to be seeing anyone? Cause you're like so beautiful," You rolled your eyes, already recognizing the gravel in his low voice.
You smiled at your husband. "You're so pretty, you make the angels in heaven jealous. So can I, like, get your number?" He caged you in the counter. Both his arms on either side of you.
He already had your bag and his, his jacket covering his scrub top. "Hm, I don't think so. I have a hot husband that I refuse to let look at another woman." You shrugged.
"Oh, do tell."
"Yeah, he's an army vet, turned ER doctor. He's super hot and jacked. His muscles are so sexy, it's even sexier when they're wrapped around my neck when we-" You were cut off by a now amused but very scared and embarrassed Jack. You loved making him flustered in public settings. You spent your whole MS3 year doing just that; that's why he put a ring on it. He secretly enjoyed it too.
You had been lucky that there was no one close enough to hear your hushed whispering. "Alright, I'll take the hint. Lucky guy." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You had discarded the tablet, now following your husband out of the ER.
"Yeah, even gave him a baby." You punched his ribs softly as you two walked to your car. His eyes were watching as he opened the door, and you got in. He truly loved the way motherhood was sitting with you.
You guys had driven to your mother's house. You picked up your baby and were finally headed home. You loved that this was your new normal. Car rides with not just you and Jack, but a little piece of both of you. The constant reminder of the love you two shared for each other.
"Isn't she so cute?" You said as you watched your baby coo at you in the back seat. You hadn't really said it for a response, just throwing it out in the open that your baby was the cutest thing you've ever seen.
Jack had been looking in the rearview, silently agreeing with you on what you had been talking about, but also just looking at you. "Yeah, she is." His eyes stayed on you. You looked up. Meeting his gaze.
"Eyes on the road, old man. We have precious cargo." You blew him a kiss before he looked away. He smiled softly to himself.
"Yes, ma'am."
He got you all home safely, of course. You expected nothing less. You settled into your quiet home, putting the baby in her nursery, before you and Jack cooked something to eat.
You ate, had conversations about your shift, the comments that you got after being back, and all he could do was watch the way your eyes lit up at the praise and how you missed being back at work. "Are you even listening?" You said, getting up and collecting the bowls from your guys' meal.
"Yeah, of course I am." He was, he really was. But he was back to watching the way you sauntered off into the kitchen, still in your scrubs, and he still had all those thoughts about how you looked unbelievable in a work uniform.
"Really? Cause you've been giving me the same look all day. Like you haven't seen me in my scrubs since I started working in the Pitt." You smiled softly. Rinse the bowls, opting to wash them later.
"There's something about the way you look right now. I'm insanely turned on." His straight face, which he maintained throughout the whole conversation, was comical.
"Jack," You perched yourself on his lap, your waist slightly brushing against the table, your legs off to one side as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were peppering kisses all over his face.
"You're being dramatic. I look the same in my work clothes."
"Nuh uh. You look like those hot doctors I used to have in my wet dreams." He kissed your neck, finally able to do something about this image he's had of you all day.
"Oh, wow. You're insane."
"You like it." His whispers were getting lost in the trail of kisses he was leaving down to your collarbone.
"Mhm."
"You know what's even better than seeing you in your scrubs again?" His eyes met yours now. Your breath fanning his face, still dazed by the slow sleepy drunk kisses he was leaving on you seconds ago.
"What is that?" You dipped your head, matching his desire as you started kissing everywhere your lips could reach.
"The fact that I'll be taking them off you." You squealed when he lifted you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your shared bedroom.
"Oh? Figured you want me to keep these on since you're so hellbent on ogling me all day."
"Wait...that's an option?"
"No, Jack. Take me to bed or lose me forever." An endless stream of giggles you left in your wake as Jack quickened his speed.
summary you and jack have always been a hands-on, canāt-keep-your-hands-off-each-other kind of coupleāuntil you decide to commit to a month-long ādetox.ā no sex, no touching, no shortcuts. jack feels like the least sought after man in the land. (ao3)
(inspired by sabrina carpenterās my man on willpower (2025)!)
tags/warnings MDNI (18+) explicit sexual content, age gap (mid-20s / 50s), established relationship, living together, unprotected p in v, oral (f/m, m/f) handjobs (mutual), mentions of masturbation, praise & teasing, domestic, hospital/medical stuff / orthopaedics (r3), wellness / āspiritualā themes, r. can do splits, santos being santos (mentions of santos/garcia breakup), robby lowkey ur third lol, healthy, sane relationship, more romcom than angst (much less sad than the actual song) (written by a law student, not a doctorāmedical accuracy idkher)
wc 16.5k words
āIām sorry,ā Jack says slowly, like heās trying very hard to be reasonable, āIām stillā¦ a little lost hereāwhat exactly are you doing?ā
You donāt turn around from the stove. You know that tone. Measured and suspicious. The same one he uses when a story from a patient doesnāt quite add up, or when heās looking for you to notice what he has noticed in your words.
āIām doing a detox,ā you say, plating the pasta with unnecessary precision. āSoāyou know, yoga, no alcohol, no drugs, no screens, no shopping, no sex, no sodaāā
āāright there,ā he cuts in.
You pause, glancing over your shoulder. āā¦No soda?ā
He doesnāt even blink. āNo. The no sex.ā
You turn back to the counter, like this is completely normal. āWhat, you canāt handle a month without sex?ā
Jack doesnāt biteādoesnāt rise to it like someone your age would. He just watches you, lips pursed, arms folded, weight settled into one hip, expression flattening into something more deliberate.
āNot when itās without you,ā he says, simple.
You huff a small laugh, trying to shake off the way it lands somewhere inconvenient in your chest. āThatās flattering. That will get you very far.ā
You slide his plate toward him. He doesnāt take it yet.
āItās not like I wonāt miss it,ā you add, softer now. āSame as alcohol. Same as everything else.ā
āYeah,ā he says, pushing off the counter finally, crossing the kitchen in a few easy steps. āDifference is alcoholās not making you come in under ten minutes, and four times in an hour.ā
You shoot him a lookāsharp, immediate.Ā
He shrugs, already reaching past you into the fridge like he didnāt just say that. āItās a valid comparison.ā
āYouāre unbelievable.ā
āYou love it,ā he shrugged, knowing, grabbing the cheese. āPoint is - you know, itās a big difference.ā
You try not to smile. You fail, a little.
āI justāā you sigh, taking the cheese from him, grating it over your pasta. āI want to do something that requires actual discipline. Reset a bit. Clear my head.ā
āHon,ā he says, quieter now, leaning his shoulder against the counter beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours, āyou work ortho and youāre an R3. Youāre up for thirty hours at a time, you operate on broken bones for fun, you look amazing, youāre healthyāwhat part of you needs more discipline?ā
You glance at him. Heās looking at you properly now. Not teasing.
You soften a fraction. āItās not about that.ā
āThen what is it about?ā
You hesitate. Just a second too long.
āā¦Itās just a month,ā you settle on. āFour weeks. Thirty days. Weāll live.ā
He studies you. You can feel itāclinical, almost. Like heās trying to diagnose something youāre not saying out loud.
Thenā
āAnd this is just penetration?ā he asks.
You freeze.
Your silence is loud.
Jack exhales, slow, disbelieving, dragging a hand down over his mouth. āGoddamn.ā
You busy yourself with the plates again. āItās part of the program.ā
āProgram,ā he repeats flatly. āWho the hell put you up to this?ā
āSantos. and McKay. We all agreed to do it together.ā
That earns you a look.
āā¦Santos,ā he says, like heās deeply reconsidering several life choices. āOf course this has Santos written all over it - getting you into a nun-cult thing.ā
You laugh despite yourself, handing him his bowl. āItās not a cult. Itās a detox.ā
āItās a sexless cult,ā he mutters, taking the bowl.
You nudge his hip with yours. āYouāve survived longer droughts.ā
āYeah,ā he shoots back immediately. āIn the army.ā
You grin. āOh, here we go.ā
āYouāre really gonna do this to me?ā he says, following you toward the couch. āMake the disabled veteran relive his worst years?ā
āYour worst years were not lack of sex, be serious.ā
āDebatable.ā
You snort, dropping onto the couch, tucking your legs under you. He sits beside you, closeācloser than necessary, knee knocking into yours, like heās testing the boundaries of this already.
You hand him a fork.
āItāll be good for us,ā you say, softer now. āBuilds character.ā
He looks at you sidelong. āI have enough character.ā
āYou could always use more.ā
āYeah?ā he murmurs.
His hand comes upāabsent, habitualāresting warm at your knee, thumb brushing once, slow. Not even thinking about it. Your breath catches before you can stop it.
His mouth twitches, just slightly. Not quite a smile.
āā¦Fine. Iāll do whatever I can to support you in thisā¦ detox, thing,ā he says.
You smile, even though his calloused hand is rubbing softly against your skin, warm, rough and inched maybe a little further onto your thigh. āI appreciate that.ā
He leans back into the couch, finally picking up his fork, but his hand doesnāt move from your leg.
A pause.
Thenā
āWe can still watch Housewives?ā he asks, like this is the real negotiation.
You let out a breath, tension cracking just enough to smile. āHousewives stays.ā
āRight,ā he nods. āGood. Thought you were gonna take everything from me.ā
You roll your eyes, nudging him with your shoulder. āSo you think you can handle this?ā
āāCourse I can handle this.ā
ā ā ā
āI canāt handle this,ā Jack says.
Robby doesnāt even look up as he checks his watch, pulling up his sleeves as they step outside, already smiling like heās been waiting for this. āItās just a month, man. Cool it.ā
āItās not just a month,ā Jack shoots back, arms folded, pacing a tight line along the bay, outside the ED. āItās a month without her. Thereās a difference.ā
Robby snorts. āOh, Iām sure there is.ā
āIām serious,ā Jack says, sharper now. āYou donāt get itāyou donātāā he gestures vaguely, frustrated. āWhen you have her, sheāsā sheās everything. Itās not just sex, itāsā¦. well, it is, but it's also more, it's... deeper? No, it's... you know, I meanāā
āāyou were about to say something amazingly poetic and then ruined it,ā Robby cuts in, amused.
āYeah, well,ā Jack mutters. āWe have sex four to five times a week. Minimum three. And now?ā He throws his hands up. āNothing. She wonāt even let me spoon her.ā
Robby pauses.
Then looks up slowly.
āā¦Spooning.ā
āDonāt,ā Jack warns.
Robbyās grin breaks wide. āJack Abbot. Spooning. Are you the big or little one? Or does it switch?ā
āOh, shut up.ā
āThatāsā¦ wow,ā Robby shakes his head, impressed. āItās a cute image.ā
Jack drags a hand over his face, already irritated. āNot evenānothing. Itās like Iām in a goddamn monastery.ā
āVoluntarily celibate,ā Robby nods. āVery spiritual of you.ā
āI did not volunteer,ā Jack snaps.
āYou stayed,ā Robby counters.
Jack glares at him, then looking out into the evening. āWhere the hell are they? They said two minutes.ā
āRelax,ā Robby says, still enjoying this far too much. āAlsoā five times a week? Christ, having that kind of libido at your age?ā He clicks his tongue, an exhale. āImpressive. You should get that checked out.ā
āForget that,ā Jack mutters. āSheāll kill me if Iām talking about this.ā
āOh, so thereās still fear. Good. Thatās healthy.ā
Jack exhales sharply, jaw tight, eyes flicking back out toward the ambulance bay.
āHow longās it been since you twoā¦?ā Robby asks, vaguely gesturing, curious as to how his friend is already so wound up.
Jack hesitates.
āā¦Two days.ā
Thereās a beat.
Robby stares at him. āā¦Two days,ā he repeats.
Jack doesnāt answer.
Robby lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. āYouāre kidding me.ā
āI wish I was.ā
āYouāre like this after two days?ā
Jack shrugs, already keyed up. āLook, I mean, that is including any kind of touch and sexual actions, alrightāā
āThatās pathetic,ā Robby says, still grinning.
āI know,ā Jack snaps, pacing again now, faster. āI know, itāsāthis is ridiculous. She wonāt even kiss me, barely hugs me. Sheāsā¦ walking around like nothingās changedāā
āYeah,ā Robby hums. āAlmost like sheās not the one with the problem. Just let her ride this out. You expect her to put on a nun costume?ā
Jack shoots him a look. āYou're not helping.ā
āIām not trying to,ā Robby says easily.
Jack exhales, running a hand through his silver waves, agitation sitting just under the surface now. He glances out again, scanning for lights, for movement.
āWhere the hell are they?ā he mutters. āThey said two minutes.ā
Robby straightens a fraction, checking his watch again. āTraffic, maybeāā
āAmbulance crashed!ā
The shout cuts through the bay, and their conversation is finished quickly as they race out with nurses to help.
ā ā ā
Jack Abbot was a strong man, in many respects.
Heād seen enoughādone enoughāto have a working relationship with pain, with loss, with the kind of things that hollow people out if they let it. He wasnāt perfect, but he wasā¦ steady. More emotionally literate than most men he knewāRobby included, which wasnāt exactly a high bar, but still.
He knew how to sit in discomfort. Knew how to carry it. Knew how to endure.
But this. This thing you were doingā¦
The thing about you was, heād never really had to hold back before.
From the moment youād settled into his lifeāproperly, fully, toothbrush next to his, your things in his drawers, your presence in every corner of his apartmentāheād made a decision: you get all of him. Whatever he has, whatever he can give, whenever you want, itās yours.
That includes the easy things. The soft things.
And yeahāsex too.
It wasnāt the foundation of your relationship. Not even close. Two years together, six months living side by side, working different departments, different hoursāyou loved each other in ways that had nothing to do with sex.
But ā Christ. It didnāt hurt that the sex was very good.
And youāyoung, bright, all sharp edges and softness in the right placesāyouād woken something up in him he hadnāt realised had gone quiet. Made him feelā¦ not younger, exactly, but awake.Ā
Kept him on his toes. Made him care, in small stupid waysālike going to the gym on his off days so he could keep up with you, so he didnāt feel like he was lagging behind when you dragged him out into the world.
You were tactile in a way that blurred the line between affection and need. Always finding him. You always managed to make him feel like the centre of any and all desires.
Hands on his arm when you passed. Fingers hooking into his belt loops when you walked past him in the kitchen. Leaning into him mid-conversation like gravity pulled you there. Curling into his side on the couch, half on top of him, legs tangled, absentmindedly tracing patterns over his chest like you didnāt even realise you were doing it.
Youād climb into his lap without asking. Kiss him just because you could. Start something in the middle of nowhereāhalf a joke, half notājust to see the way heād react.
It didnāt go unnoticed. Robby had picked up on it within the first few weeks.
Some shitty bar down the road with shittier beer, end of shift, nothing specialāand all Jack could do was watch you.
āThe hell did you find her?ā Robby asked, leaning against the bar, eyes flicking between Jack and where you were across the room, laughing too loud at something Ellis had said, drink loose in your hand.
Jack followed his line of sight without meaning to. It softened him, visibly.
āShe found me,ā he said, like that explained anything. Took a sip of his beer. āCafeteria. First week at PTMC.ā
Robby hummed, unconvinced. āRight. Of course she did.ā
Jack shrugged, trying for casual. āSheāsā¦ enthusiastic.ā
Robby glanced back at you, just in time to see the way your attention shifted mid-conversationālike something had tugged on you. Your eyes landed on Jack immediately.
Locked. And thenāthere it was. That smile. Not polite, not social. Specific.
āYeah,ā Robby muttered. āThatās one word for it.ā
You were already moving.
Didnāt even finish whatever you were saying, just peeled off like the rest of the room had lost its relevance. Straight line to Jack, weaving through people without hesitation.
You slipped into his space like you belonged there, like you always had.
āHi,ā you said, bright, a little breathless. āMissed you.ā
Jack blinked. āYouāve been gone fifteen minutes.ā
āFelt longer,ā you shrugged, already reaching for himāfingers brushing over his bicep, then squeezing, slow and appreciative, like you were reminding yourself he was real. āI love this shirt.ā
Robby snorted into his drink. He knew that shirt. Cheap, slightly too tight on purpose. Jack had once tried to pretend it wasnāt a strategy. Apparently, it was working.
You didnāt move away. If anything, you leaned closerāhips brushing his, hand still on his arm, thumb dragging once like you couldnāt quite help it.
Robby watched the exact second Jack stopped pretending this wasnāt affecting him.
āYou busy?ā you asked, softer now.
You tilted your head, smiling like you already knew the answer.
Then you leaned in.
Close enough that Robby couldnāt hear, but not subtle about it eitherāyour mouth brushing Jackās ear, your hand tightening slightly on his arm as you murmured something low.
Whatever it was, Jack went still.Immediate. A shift. Shoulders tightening, breath catching, eyes dropping to you like he needed a second to recalibrate.
Robby raised a brow. You pulled back like nothing had happened, smile sweet, completely unbothered. Jack set his beer down.
āWeāre heading out,ā he said.
Robby stared at him. āYou just got here.ā
āYeah,ā Jack replied, already reaching for his jacket. āWeāre done.ā
Jack had called it the honeymoon phase. It wasnāt. It justā¦ evolved.
You stayed exactly as enthusiastic as heād first describedājust more efficient about it. More integrated into the rhythm of your lives. Somehow worse, if you asked Robby.
And when you were stressedāwhich was often, given Ortho, given your hours, given youāit got worse. Or better, depending on who you asked.
Youād come home wired, exhausted, brain still running at full speedāand instead of shutting down, youād go straight to him. Like he was the off-switch. Like being close to him, touching him, feeling him, was how you came back to yourself.
You didnāt overthink it. You didnāt ration it.
And now nothing. Heās not sure if he recognises you.Ā
Itās not just the sex. Thatās the worst of it, sure. The obvious absence. But itās everything else thatās starting to wear on him. Youāre thorough with it. Annoyingly disciplined.
ā ā ā
Day Six.
He gets home just after eight in the morning, dead on his feet, the kind of tired that sits behind his eyes and dulls everything out.
The apartmentās not quiet. Thatās the first thing.
The secondā You.
On the floor in the lounge, in the middle of a yoga mat, moving through a pose like this is something youāve always done. You quit yoga a year ago. Said it was boring. Said you couldnāt sit still long enough.
And yet here you are. And Santos is with you. Which isā¦ its own problem. Thereās a lot to unpack there.
Why does Santos know where you live?
Why is Santos doing yoga?
Why are you wearing thatāsome tight, soft, barely-there athleisure set that looks like it was designed specifically to make his life harder?
āHi, baby!ā you call, bright, easy, like nothingās changed, as you both move into cobra.
āGross,ā Santos mutters under her breath.
āHey, hon,ā Jack says, voice rough with fatigue as he steps in, toeing off his shoes.
The coffee tableās been shoved aside, the TV playing some overly calm instructor guiding you through it like this is a wellness retreat instead of his living room.
He walks over anywayāautomatic, like always. Bends down, aiming for your mouthā
āand you shift just slightly.
Itās subtle. Anyone else wouldnāt clock it. But he does.
His kiss lands on your cheek instead.
You donāt even break the pose.
āNo kisses during yoga, interrupts my zen,ā you remind him lightly.
A beat.
āRight,ā he says, quieter. āForgot about that.ā
Thereās the faintest pauseājust enough to feel it.
āFeels like itās all the time lately,ā he adds under his breath. Then, correcting himself, āButāyeah. I get it.ā
You hum, already moving out of cobra like nothingās happened.
He straightens, slower now, glancing at Santos.
She rolls her eyes.
āNext pose,ā she says flatly.
You shift without hesitation.
āYou should shower, then have some breakfast,ā you tell him gently, already moving into childās pose. āI made oats. Theyāre in the fridge.ā
āOats?ā he repeats. āSince when do you eat oats?ā
āItās good for your gut, heart health, digestion, blood sugar,ā Santos answers, not looking up. āCleansing in some cultures.ā
Jack blinks at her. āā¦Right. Iāve been a doctor for twenty years. Think Iāve got gut health covered, Trinity.ā
āI donāt think your army rations count as a gut health plan,ā she shoots back.
You let out a small laugh into the mat.
āI thought you said oats were for Victorian children and farmers who hate themselves,ā Jack adds to you.
āThey are,ā you mumble. āBut these have honey and cinnamon.ā
Santos chimes. āAnd spite.ā
Jack just stares at the two of you for a second.
Looking at youāfolded into the pose, calm, deliberate. Not reaching for him. Not pulling him down. Like heās background noise.
āOkay,ā he says finally, a little clipped. āYou twoā¦ have fun.ā He drags a hand over his face. āIām gonna sleep for about five hours.ā
He turns, already heading for the bedroom, shoulders a little tighter than when he walked in.
You glance up, watching him go.
Thereās a beat of silence.
Santos shifts beside you into a side plank, already shaking slightly. āJesus Christ.ā
You follow, steady.
āHe seemsā¦ stable,ā she says.
āHeās a bit grumpy,ā you reply. āWe havenāt touched in nearly a week.ā
Santosās head snaps toward you. āSo?ā
āWeāre touchy people.ā
āRight,ā she nods once. āI hate happy couples.ā
You huff a quiet laugh.
āThis was your idea, by the way,ā you remind her.
āYeah, and itās a good one,ā she says immediately. āI needed to not text Garcia at 2AM and ruin my life again.ā
āYou could justā¦ not text her.ā
Santos looks at you like youāve said something deeply stupid. āOh, yeah. Genius. Why didnāt I think of that?ā
You smile slightly.
āShe blocked me last night,ā Santos adds, flat.
āOh.ā
āYeah. āFor her peace.āā She makes air quotes with one hand, nearly losing balance. āWhich is crazy, because Iām incredibly peaceful.ā
āWell, this detox thing is a great idea. Youāll cleanse yourself of her.ā
āEvil lesbians are not for the weak.ā
āHon, where are those scented candles?ā Jack calls from the hallway, voice carrying through the apartment.
āI threw them out,ā you call back. āThey release benzene. Cleansing, remember?ā
Thereās a pause.
āā¦Of course you did,ā he mutters, just loud enough.
Santos snorts as you both move into the next stretch, threading your arm under your body.
āBit much, isnāt it?ā she says.
You exhale into the mat. āI am going to be so aggressively cleansed by the end of this, youād consider me the Virgin Mary.ā
ā ā ā
Day Nine.
Virgin Mary, my ass.
Thatās all Jack can think as he leans in the doorway for a second too long, watching you at the counter. Pink, ridiculous, barely-there panties.
The ones from Valentineās. His t-shirt hanging off you like it belongs there, cut just high enough that every small shift of your hips flashes skin he knows too well. Music hums low from the radioāsomething easy, something youāre half-swaying to as you chop vegetables like this is justā¦ normal.
Heās been up maybe five minutes. Has to leave in thirty. And heās already half-hard. He pushes off the doorway anyway. Walks up behind you like muscle memory.
His arms come around you slow, familiarāsettling over your waist, pulling you back into him. He feels the way you soften immediately, that slight melt into his chest like your body still knows him, even if youāre beingā¦ whatever this is.
You startle just a little, then relax.
āHey,ā you murmur, turning your head slightly as he drops his chin to your shoulder. āYouāre up.ā
āMhm,ā he hums, already pressing his mouth to your neck.
He doesnāt even pretend restraint. Just goes for itāslow, lazy kisses wherever he can reach, nosing along your skin, breathing you in like heās been deprived, because he has.Whichāhe has.
āWhatāre you making?ā he asks against you, voice rougher than he means it to be.
āFood prep,ā you say, though it comes out softer than that. A little breath slipping through when he finds that spot under your ear.
āShitāJack,ā you add, quieter now, the knife slowing in your hand. āYou canāt.ā
He smiles against your skin. Not nice about it.
āI canāt,ā he repeats, low. āOr you canāt?ā
His hands move without askingāsliding under the hem of his shirt on you, palms warm against your stomach first. Familiar. Testing.
You inhale sharply. He doesnāt stop. Just keeps goingāslow, deliberateāup over your ribs, feeling the curve of you, the heat of your skin, until his hands settle over your chest. Not rough. Not greedy. Like he belongs there. Because he does. Or he did.
Your hand stills completely on the counter.
āJack,ā you say again, but itās weaker this time. Less conviction, more breath.
He presses another kiss just below your ear, voice dropping.
āBeen real good about this,ā he murmurs. āHavenāt I?ā
You donāt answer.
Because he has. You're not making it easy, after Santos suggested to have more fun with it. So, sure, you go for panties and shirt, maybe even the barely there nightgowns you bought a while back, feeling as he is completely still besides you in bed.
His touch shifts just slightlyānot pushing, not crossing a line, but close enough to remind you exactly how easily he could.
Your head tips back a fraction before you catch yourself.
āNo,ā you say, firmer now, even as your body lags behind. āNope. No, canāt. Iām staying cleansed. My book says even too much contact can make you unfocused.ā
He exhales slowly, like heās dragging himself back by force.
āUnfocused.. alright,ā he mutters. āWhatever you want.ā
But his hands donāt move right away. You finally set the knife down, turning in his arms so youāre facing him. Big mistake.
Because now youāre looking at him properlyāsleep-rough, hair a mess, jaw shadowed, eyes still heavy but fixed on you like youāre the only thing in the room. And you know that look. Youāve felt what follows it.
āYou should get a hobby,ā you tell him quietly.
āYeah?ā he says, not looking away.
āMaybe pottery,ā you shrug. āSomething that isnāt being a SWAT medic andāā you hesitate just slightly, āāfucking me or whatever.ā
His hands slide down your sides, slower this time. Reluctant.
āBut I really like my hobbies,ā he says, voice low, rough around the edges. āEspecially fucking you, or whatever.ā
The way he looks at you when he says itālike heās imagining you in the most vulgar of situationsāmakes heat climb straight up your neck. You hate that it works.
He doesnāt move.
āJack.ā
āJust one kiss?ā He asks.
You open your mouth to say yes, but you bite your lip and think for a second. You lean in pressing a deliberate kiss to his cheek, hand up to his neck, feeling how he melts under your touch.
You fingers briefly fidget with the grey curls at the nape of his neck, as his fingers dig slightly into your hips. You pull back.
āIāll try pottery,ā he mutters.
You smileāsmall, controlled. Infuriating. Then he lets you go. Barely.
You watch him walk off toward the bedroom, running a hand through his hair like heās trying to shake it off, his own shirt fitted against him, rising, tight against his biceps, and the second heās out of sightā
You exhale. Your grip tightens on the counter, head tipping forward for a second. This is... harder than you thought itād be.
Itās him. The way he moves around you like itās instinct. The way your body still answers before your brain catches up. The way one kiss feels like a warning.
If you touch him properlyāif you let yourself lean into it even a littleāyou know exactly how it goes. Thereās no halfway with him. There never has been. You've struggled to hold back with him.
You both work too hard, sleep too little. You orbit each otherāshared meals, late-night TV, quiet mornings when they exist. Heās steady, solid, always there. And sex has always been part of that too.Ā
You press your lips together, shaking your head slightly as you keep chopping, trying to focus. You shouldāve fought harder on the point about no sex, but Santos seemed so pitiful, you donāt have the heart to tell her you broke or to lie.Ā
Cleanse. Reset. Prove youāve got discipline. Prove youāre not just running on impulse and instinct and whatever feels good in the moment. Focused...ness. All that.
Itās just youāve never seen him like this. Not like this kind of worked up. Not this restless, thisā¦ needy. Your thighs press together instinctively, heat lingering, annoying and insistent.
āGod,ā you mutter under your breath, grabbing the knife again like thatāll ground you. āPathetic.ā
ā ā ā
Day Twelve.
āI cannot tell if youāre being serious right now,ā Robby says, standing beside Jack in the elevator as they head down from the roof.
Jack doesnāt even look at him. āItās psychological warfare.ā
Robby scoffs. āOh my god.ā
āIām serious,ā Jack insists, dragging a hand over his face. āI canāt think straight. Itās likeā¦ cognitive impairment. I should get tested.ā
āYou need to get a grip,ā Robby replies.
āYou donāt get it,ā Jack mutters. āYou havenāt had a relationship like this ināwhat, a decade? More? This isnāt casual. This isā¦ routine. Structure. Stability.ā He gestures vaguely. āWe live together. Weāve got a system.ā
āA system,ā Robby repeats, flat.
āYes,ā Jack says, defensive. āAnd sheās dismantled it. Completely. No warning. Justāgone. Overnight. You know her, she's all over me usually. And Iām a touchy guy, man, I feel like a sunflower without sun. She is my sun.ā
Robby exhales through his nose. āItās been two weeks.ā
āTwelve days,ā Jack corrects. āThatās long enough to destabilise a man.ā
The elevator dings. Doors open. A couple of nurses step in.
Jack lowers his voice, but not his intensity.
āShe wonāt even cuddle with me,ā he mutters. āDo you understand that? Cuddling. Baseline intimacy. Gone. She almost slept on the couch the other night because she thought she mightāā
He cuts himself off as one of the nurses glances over.
Jack exhales sharply, jaw ticking. āItās likeā¦ all that energy I spent with her, is justā¦ Like Iām allāā
āDo not say pent up,ā Robby murmurs.
āIām pent up, man,ā Jack says anyway, under his breath. āI donātāā
āJesus Christ.ā
āAnd she keeps wearingāā
āāand thatās our stop,ā Robby cuts in quickly as the doors open.
They step out into the corridor, quieter now. Both hit the sanitiser on instinct.
Jack rubs his hands together, restless. āSheās doing it on purpose.ā
āNo, she isnāt.ā
āShe is,ā Jack insists. āShe knows exactly what I like. The shirts, theālack of shirts. The shorts. The yoga. The fuckingā¦ tiny nightgowns. Sheer, too. Door open when she showers. Itās targeted.ā
āOr,ā Robby says, dry, āsheās a twenty-something woman existing in her own home.ā
Jack ignores that. āAnd thenānothing. Wonāt touch me. Wonāt let me touch her. She kissed me on the cheek three days ago, and I was gonnaā¦ ruin my pants like an idiot. I feel like a teenager.ā
Robby snorts. āYou sound like one. She showers with the door open?ā
āIāve done tours,ā Jack goes on, either ignoring or not hearing Robbyās query, quieter now, almost incredulous at himself. āIāve been shot at. Iāve dealt with death at its worst. And somehow this is whatās got me pacing like a lunatic at three in the morning.ā
Robby stops walking.
Grabs his shoulder.
āYou hear yourself, right?ā
āā¦Yeah,ā Jack mutters. āHearin' it.ā
āGood,ā Robby says. āBecause itās insane. And Iām tired of it, brother.ā
Jack exhales, trying to resetāthen his gaze shifts past Robbyās shoulder.
Locks. You.
At Central Four, mid-discussion with McKay and Mel, one hand braced lightly against a patientās lower leg as you check the alignment on a fresh below-knee castāthumbs pressing along the tibial crest, eyes flicking between the limb and the patientās foot for perfusion. Focused. Calm. Explaining as you go, that steady, assured cadence youāve grown into over the past couple years.
You look good. You always do, butātoday isā¦ worse. Yeah, heās definitely pent up. Jackās jaw tightens. Robby follows his line of sight, spots you, then looks back at him.
āYou really look like a kicked puppy right now, bud.ā
āDonāt.ā
āI mean it,ā Robby says. āItās palpable.ā
Jack exhales sharply. āIāll be right back.ā
āYou arenāt going there.ā
āIām just gonna ask my girlfriend about her day.ā
āNo, youāre gonna say something deeply unprofessional to your girlfriend in the middle of a ward round,ā Robby corrects. āWhile Shark is somewhere nearby, sensing weakness.ā
āRight, ācourse, youāve interrupted my plan to give her head in the middle of the ED,ā Jack says, sarcastically, then a brief beat of thought. āGod, If she asked me to I probably w-ā
ā-We need boundaries, man,ā Robby says. āI donātā¦ You have fun with that.ā
āRelax. Itās fine, weāre both clocking off now. Once she wraps up, weāre outta here.ā
Jack glances back at you again. You laugh softly at something McKay says, adjusting the cast edge with careful fingers, smoothing it down. Your hand lingers just a second as you explain something to the patientāvoice warm, easy, reassuring.
Mel nudges your shoulder, subtle, and tips her chin toward Jack.
You look up. Catch him. Smile. Itās small, but it lands.
Jack stiffens like heās just been called to attention, gives you a tight nodācontrolled, restrainedāthen abruptly turns and heads toward the station with Robby.
Robby snorts under his breath. āThat was painful to watch.ā
āI told you. Psychological warfare.ā
McKay smirks a bit as she watches Jack retreat.
āWhatās that about?ā McKay murmurs, rolling her stool a little closer to the patient bed.
āOur detox program?ā you say lightly, refocusing as you check distal circulation again. āNot a fan.ā You glance to the patient. āAny numbness or tingling, maāam?ā
āNo, love. Feels fine,ā she says, half-distracted by her phone.
āGood,ā you nod. āLet me know if that changes.ā
McKay hums, folding her arms loosely. āAh. The celibacy portion not going down well?ā
You let out a quiet breath. āNot particularly. And Iām not being super easy on him about it either.ā
āYeah,ā she says, dry. āCanāt imagine why.ā
You suppress a smile, smoothing the cast. āEverything else is good, though. Iām committed now.ā
āMm,ā McKay says. āSantos bullied us into it.ā
āSantos encouraged it.ā
āSantos got dumped and decided everyone else should suffer,ā McKay corrects.
āThatās notāā you start, then pause. āā¦entirely inaccurate.ā
Mel watches all of this with mild fascination, then looks back at the cast. āUmācan I try wrapping the next layer?ā
You brighten a little. āYeah, of course. Come here.ā
You shift off the stool, making space. āAlrightāsupport here,ā you guide, hands hovering near hers. āKeep your tension even, donāt gap it.ā
Mel nods seriously, concentrating.
McKay glances between you and the half-set cast, then back at you. āAre you feeling detoxed?ā
You huff a quiet breath. āA little. More flexible, improved sleep, and a deeply irritated boyfriend.ā
āHolistic wellness,ā McKay deadpans.
You smile despite yourself. āAnd you?ā you ask.
āNope,ā she sighs. āBut Harrisonās loving the yoga mat, so at least someoneās thriving. And I wasnāt getting laid anyway, soāno real sacrifice on that front. But the no screens thing is doing wonders. I can feel my brain gaining another wrinkle.ā
You snort softly, nudging Melās hand. āSmoother thereāyeah, thatās it. Keep the overlap consistent.ā
Mel adjusts, careful, precise, tongue just slightly between her teeth in concentration. McKay watches her for a second, then leans in a fraction closer to you, voice dropping just enoughā
āHe looks like heās about five minutes from a breakdown.ā
You donāt look over. āHeāll be fine.ā
āMm,ā she hums. āHe keeps looking at you between charts.ā
āHe always does that when Iām down here,ā you say, a little softer.
āYeah,ā McKay replies. āNot like this.ā
You ignore that, focusing instead on Melās technique. āGoodānow just secure it there. Donāt pull too tight.ā
Mel nods, finishing the wrap neatly. āLike that?ā
āPerfect,ā you say, genuinely pleased. āNice work, Doctor King.ā
Mel beams, small but proud. Behind you, you can feel it againāJackās attention, flicking back over, catching, lingering even when he forces it away.
You keep your eyes on the patient. But youāre aware of him. Constantly. And across the room, Jack shifts his weight, jaw tight, tryingāand failingānot to look again.
Later, he finds you around the ED. Youāre mid-conversation with Santos, focused, explaining something on the chart.
Jack walks up beside you, close enough that your arms brush. You donāt react. Donāt even break your sentence.
āā¦so we stabilise first, then reassess once imagingās backāā
He waits. Nothing. Not even a glance. Santos clocks it immediately. Raises her brows.
āā¦Hi, Dr Abbot,ā she says, dry.
You finally look up. āOhāhey.ā
He stares at you.
āā¦Hey, just... checking in,ā he says, somewhat shy now.
You smile, polite. "All good here." Then turn straight back to Santos. āAnywayālike I was sayingāā
He stands there for a second. Then another.
Robby, from across the station, watches the whole thing with poorly concealed amusement.
āā¦You gonna be okay?ā he calls out.
Jack doesnāt look at him. āNo,ā he says flatly, before walking off.
ā ā ā
Day Eighteen.
Youāre supposed to be detoxing. Self-restraint. Discipline. Clarity.
Apparently, that also includes driving your boyfriend quietly insane in your living room.
āYou need to be doing that right now?ā Jack asks as he finally drops onto the couch, exhaustion dragging at him. Scrubs half-off, shirt discarded somewhere along the way before he drags a fresh one over his head, lazy, spent.
You donāt even look at him. āI can stop if you want,ā you say, adjusting your stanceāhands walking a little wider on the mat, hips tipping higher as you settle deeper into downward dog, covering a good half of the TV screen.
He watches the shift. The stretch. The way your shorts ride up just enough to be completely fucking useless.
He exhales slowly, dragging a hand over his face. āNo, noācarry on. This is great. Very relaxing.ā
You hum like you believe him. You donāt.
He leans back, head tipping against the couch as he reaches down, taking off his prosthetic with practiced ease, setting it aside. His body finally settlesābut his eyes donāt.
They stay on you.
Track every adjustment.
You shift againāone leg lifting, extending behind you before you draw it through, slow, controlled, foot landing between your hands. Your back arches slightly as you ease into it. Jackās jaw tightens.
āParkās been on my ass lately,ā you say, like this is normal conversation.
āGlad someone has,ā Jack murmurs.
You shoot him a look.Ā
āIām sorry, baby, Iām justā¦ distracted, I donāt knowā He says, somewhat earnestly, dryly. āWhat is it about Shark?ā
āHeās not as bad as you guys make him seem, heās just got tunnel vision," You try, slowly repositioning. āBut he can be such a dick sometimes. No concept of tact. I missed one chart the other day, and he ripped me a new one in front of the med students.ā
And then you slide down. Slow. Controlled.
One leg extending forward, the other back, lowering into a full split like itās nothingāhips sinking, spine straight, hands resting lightly on your thighs.
Jack actually goes still. Thatās new.Ā
āā¦Right,ā he says, quieter now.
You keep talking. Like you havenāt just changed the entire atmosphere in the room.
āAnd I was gonna snap,ā you continue, calm, measured, ābut I did that breathing thing from the book. Actually worked. I didnāt react. I justā¦ sat in it and breathed, five to two.ā
āYeah,ā he says, voice a little rougher. āLooks like itās working great.ā
You shift out of it fluidly, folding in, then rolling onto your backāknees lifting, falling open as you stretch through your hips, one hand braced lightly on your stomach as you breathe through it.
Jack leans forward slightly before he catches himself, hand dragging over his jean clad thigh, like heās trying to reset.
Heās trying to be good. You can see it.
Trying to sit still. Trying not to react. Trying not to reach for you.
You keep going anyway.
āSo then Isla comes into the break roomādid you know sheās getting divorced?ā you say, drawing one knee closer, holding it there, breath catching just slightly at the stretch.
āDo you need help with that?ā he asks, too quick.
āNope,ā you say immediately.
You donāt look at him.
Because you know exactly what that would do. You know exactly what this looks like from where heās sitting. You know exactly what heās thinking about, because youāre thinking about it tooāthe way heās had you like this before, hands on you, holding you in place, your body not your own for a while.
You switch legs, pushing through it again, slower this time.
āDo you think he cheated?ā you ask.
āWho?ā His voice is tighter now.
āIslaās husband.ā
āYeah,ā he says after a beat. āMaybe.ā
You let your leg drop, exhaling as you roll up, sitting back on your knees. Arms stretch overhead, spine lengthening, chest lifting.
Jack looks away this time.
Briefly.
Then back.
Like he canāt help it.
āI taught her the breathing thing,ā you go on. āShe calmed down immediately. I could totally pivot into this, you know. Wellness, mindfulnessāā
āYeah,ā he cuts in, too fast. āYou should absolutely do that.ā
You glance at him now.
āYeah, Iāll give up years of med school and fixing bones to teach whiny people how to lock in,ā You joke.
āWhatever you want to do, baby,ā He nods, eyes looking down at you on the floor, mind literally anywhere else.
āYou look like a kicked dog right now. Was the yoga too much?ā
āIām fine,ā he insists. āRobby said the same thing. Maybe I just have a pitiful face.ā
You donāt disagree with that.
You look at him. Really look.
Heās not relaxed. Not even close. Shoulders tight despite the way heās sitting, fingers flexing once against his knee like he needs something to do with them. His gaze flicks over you, then away, then back again like itās a losing battle.
You stand, cross the room, and settle beside him, curling your feet under you so youāre facing him properly.
He immediately turns his head slightly away, like that helps.
āThank you for putting up with this,ā you murmur, softer now, even though itās just the two of you. Then, almost casuallyāāHave you touched yourself at all?ā
His inhale is sharp enough to answer before he does.
āNo,ā he says. Then, like heās committing to honesty instead of dignity: āFigured weāre in this together. Minusā¦ everything else. I canāt not do a line of cocaine before I go into work.ā
That earns a small smile from you.
āResponsible of you,ā you say.
āHave you?ā He asks.
āNope.ā
āAre you struggling at all? Because itāsā¦ you know, youā¦ you really seem very comfortable with all this. This cleansing thing.ā
You inhale sharply. āIām doing great.ā You lie.
āI feel like youāre forgetting how good our sex is,ā He says.
You raise your brows, give it thought. āOrā¦ Iām free from suchā¦ baseless temptations.ā
āBaseless temptations had me eating you out for three hours, three times a week. Which in our line of work is a lot. And, at my age, a cardio workout.ā He reminds.Ā
Your tongue darts to your lips, eyes flicking away from him like it helps you regain control. It doesnāt.
āI should go,ā you say, too casually. āErrands.ā
Jack nods once, like heās trying to behave. āTwo more weeks.ā
āTwo more weeks,ā you repeat.
You lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
Itās small. Controlled. Safe.
Except it isnāt, because itās the first real contact in ten days and your body reacts like itās been starved of oxygen. Like you didnāt realise how much you were holding your breath until you finally touched him again.
He turns his head slightly before you fully pull away.
Just enough. Just enough to trap you in that in-between spaceāfaces inches apart, his breath warm against your mouth, his eyes locked on yours like heās waiting to see if youāll fold, head tilted, just a bit, curious.
You shouldnāt.
You press your mouth to his. Itās chaste, sweet, PG. Lasts maybe three seconds, and itās not long enough for him as you pull away, as if youāve rewarded him, but he canāt help but be greedy when it comes to you.
āYou can do better than that, baby,ā he says quietly.
āMm,ā you reply, steadying yourself. āI canāt.ā
A pause.
āPromise I wonāt do anything,ā he adds.
You look at him for a second too long.
Then you nod.
His hand comes up immediately, settling at the back of your headāgentle, anchoring, familiar in a way your body reacts to before your brain does, mouth agape. His thumb brushes your cheek once, slowly, briefly moves to your jaw and chin, over your bottom lip, your mouth opening, almost instinctually, but he moves it back to your cheek, not entertaining it further.
You kiss him again properly.
It starts off controlledāyour mouth on his, testing, like youāre still trying to keep it within the rules you made for yourself. The moment he kisses back, the rules seem very silly. No hesitation, no easing inājust straight into it, like your bodies already know exactly what theyāre doing, falling into step all over again.
Your hand lifts like youāre going to hold him off, going to stop it but it just hangs there uselessly, mid-air.
His mouth is on yours harder now, deeper, tongue sliding in like heās done waiting for permission. Slow, but not gentle. Familiar in a way that makes your stomach dropālike your body reacts before your brain even catches up.Ā
A small sound slips out of you without meaning to.
His hand at the back of your head tightens, fingers in your hair, not yanking but holding you exactly where he wants you. His other hand shifts at his crotch, you barely glance down at the corner of your eye, seeing as his palm moves over his hardening length beneath his jeans.
He exhales into your mouth, rough. āDamnit.ā
You kiss him back harder, mouth opening more, his tongue dragging against yours again, slower this time but deeper, like heās checking how far youāll go if he just keeps pushing like this.
You make another soundālow, breathyāand he feels it immediately. You can tell by the way his hand tightens at the back of your neck, thumb pressing in like heās grounding himself there, like he needs something solid to hold onto before he loses the plot completely.
āMmāno more,ā you manage, pulling back slightly, dazed. āNo more. Errands. Oxygen. Meditation. Focus. Detox. Okay? Okay.ā
āOkay,ā he hums back, like he agrees, but he doesnāt move his eyes off you.
Youāre both breathing heavier than you should be for a kiss thatās supposedly not doing anything.
He drags his tongue over his lips, slow, watching you properly now. Then his hand drops from your neck and he leans back a fractionāexcept heās not actually done. Heās just shifting, exhaling through his nose like heās trying to reset and failing.
You glance down.
Heās already adjusting himself, palming himself through his jeans, at the feeling and sight of you, far from subtle at all. His eyes flick between your face and your reaction like heās half curious, half done pretending this isnāt affecting him.
You just stare for a second, hair slightly messier now from his grip, lips swollen, clearly trying to act normal and not really succeeding. Your eyes linger as you watch him become harder under the denim.
āBaseless temptation?ā he echoes, dry, almost mocking, interested by your seeming entertainment.
āYouāre ridiculous,ā you mutter, swallowing, standing up like that fixes anything. āIām going. Errands.ā
āMm,ā he says, already unbuckling his belt properly now, like heās given up on dignity for the moment. āThat.ā
You clear your throat, turning away too quickly. āYeah. That.ā
āGreat detox, honey,ā he calls after you, voice low, almost satisfied, like heās both impressed and completely fucked by it.
You donāt look back when you walk out.
ā ā ā
Day Twenty Two.
You were even stricter after your brief lapse on Day 18.
Santos had spiralled a bit after Garcia tried to re-enter her lifeāone text, then another, then a ājust checking inā that meant absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. And Santos, for all her bite, was still soft where it counted. So she doubled down.
We resist.
You werenāt going to be the weak link in that. Not when she was white-knuckling her way through it.
So you didnāt argue. Didnāt say that your situation was devolving.
So. Yoga, reading, no screensānone of it was enough anymore. Not because you were failing, but because youād started treating this like something to actually get through properly.Ā
So you added structure.
Cooking, mostly. Proper cooking, technically normal, but now with a kind of performative discipline to it. Whole-food, vegetarian-heavy meals that smell intense enough to make Jack pause in the doorway like heās trying to decide if heās being punished or supported.
You explained something about how Santos had plenty of recipe choices, these were the best. He dreaded knowing the worst.
Youāve always cooked. So has he. Itās part of your relationshipāeasy, domestic, something you both fall back on without thinking.
But wow, the past three or four days have been a steady rotation of ācleansingā meals that are aggressively healthy in a way that feels almost personal and cruel.
Youāve also tightened everything else.
Early nights. Early mornings. Youāre not avoiding him exactlyāyouāre just very efficient with your time now. No lingering in shared spaces. No sitting too close on the couch āby accident.ā No hand brushing his back when you pass him in the hallway, even though that one clearly takes effort.
The hardest part was that you kept missing out on Housewives.
āHon, you sure?ā Jack had tried one night, hovering in the doorway. āItās the mid-season finale.ā
Pitch black room. Eye mask on.
āTell me about it tomorrow,ā youād said.
Heād watched it alone. Hated it.
Even the small stuff has become intentional.
Youāve started drinking herbal tea that tastes like wet grass just to prove a point to yourself.
Heās started making coffee louder than necessary just to annoy you.
And stillāyou function.
You were both high-energy peopleāincapable of just sitting still without developing a new hobby or mild personality trait.Ā
The apartment was proof: books half-read, yoga mats permanently out, easels you didnāt touch, Jack picking up SWAT shifts āfor funā like thatās a normal recreational activity.Ā
And, historically, youād had a very reliable outlet for all that excess energy. Now thatās beenā¦ aggressively decommissioned. So it lingers. In your body, in his shoulders, in the space between youātight, charged, and just annoying enough to make everything feel a little harder than it needs to be.
The call comes down fast and uglyātrauma bay already prepped, voices sharp, movement tighter than usual.
Open tib-fib. High-energy. Motorcycle versus ute, no helmet.
Youāre already pulling gloves on as you move, snapping them tight against your wrists, pace quick to match the rhythm of the room. Doctor Park is a step ahead of youāof course he isāalready at the bedside, already assessing, already ten steps into the problem.
Robby and Jack linger to the side, Whitaker working the patient while they observe, supervise. Robbyās still here past his shiftābecause of course he is.
āWalk me through it,ā Park says without looking at you.
āMid-shaft tibial and fibular fracture, likely comminuted,ā you reply immediately, eyes scanning. āSignificant displacement. Possible vascular compromiseāfoot looks pale, delayed cap refill.ā
āGood,ā Park says shortly. āCheck dorsalis pedis. Posterior tibial.ā
You nod, moving in.
The leg isā¦ bad. Angulated wrong, skin stretched too tight over something that shouldnāt be pressing there. Blood everywhere, soaked through layers Whitaker is tryingāearnestlyāto keep under control.
You donāt flinch. You tilt your head slightly, studying it like a problem you already want to solve, something in you clicking into place.
āDorsalis pedis faint,ā you say, fingers pressing in. āPosterior tibialāhard to appreciate.ā
āMm,ā Park hums. āWe reduce now.ā
Behind Whitaker, Jack stands with his hands clasped behind his back, posture loose but attention razor sharp. Tracking everythingāmonitor, patient, Park.
You.
He hasnāt seen you all day. You left before he got homeāleft him in a cold bed, a note about oats, and absolutely nothing else. And now, every time he does see you, it feels deliberate. Like youāre making it harder.Ā
Three weeks of thisā¦ discipline.
And now youāre here, calm, focused, humming under your breath like you havenāt been systematically ruining his life, like his muscles arenāt taut without getting to feel you under him or on him.
Jackās jaw tightens.
āTraction,ā Park says.
You nod, hands steady as you take hold above and below the fracture. āOn you.ā
āNow.ā
You pullāfirm, controlled. Thereās a shift. A sickening, mechanical realignment as bone slides back into place.
Whitaker visibly winces.
āBetter,ā you murmur, almost satisfied.
Jack exhales through his nose. āHold it,ā he says, stepping in just slightly. āPulse?ā
Whitaker checks, brow furrowed. āStronger. Still thready, butābetter.ā
āGood. Splint.ā
You glance upājust brieflyāand catch Jack already looking at you.
Not subtle. Not tonight. Something heavier in it. Sharper. Like heās been holding onto something all shift and hasnāt decided where to put it.
You hold his gaze for half a second.
āDoctor,ā you say, light.
He tilts his head a fraction. āNice work,ā he says, dry. Then, without missing a beatāāYou leave thatā¦ green-orange situation in the fridge?ā
You blink. āAre youāseriously?ā
āI got four hours of sleep,ā he shrugs. āIām allowed one grievance.ā
You briefly glance to Park who doesnāt seem to care or mind your minor chatter with Jack, looking at the monitors with a hardened gaze.
āItās vegetable soup,ā you say, adjusting your grip. āItās good for you. Anti-inflammatory.ā
Whitaker glances between you, confused. āSoup? Do you two live together?ā
Jack ignores him completely. āTastes like punishment.ā
āFunny,ā you say. āYou seemed very into punishment a few weeks ago.ā
Robby lets out a short, sharp laugh from the other side of the bed. āOh, Iām awake now.ā
āNot helpful,ā Jack mutters, not even looking at him.
āYou started it,ā you shoot back, breath steady despite the strain in your arms. āAlso, Robby likes my soup. Donāt you, Robinavitch?ā
Robby raises both hands. āIām not being... triangulated into whatever this is.ā
āYouāre making bone broth for my best friend now?ā Jack goes on, like he didnāt hear that. āThatās where weāre at?ā
āItās not bone broth,ā you correct. āAnd maybe Iād cook for you if you werenāt so moodyāā
You cut yourself off, refocusing as the splint is brought in.
āKeep traction steady,ā Jack says, tone snapping cleanly back to clinicalābut thereās an edge under it now. āYouāre drifting distal.ā
You correct it immediately. āBetter?ā
āYeah,ā he nods. āDonāt let it shorten.ā
Park finally glances back down, unimpressed. āIf youāre both done flirtingāā
āThis is not flirting,ā Jack and you say at the same time.
A beat.
Whitaker frowns. āā¦What is happening?ā
Robby snorts. āIāll tell you about it later. Celibacy ritual.ā
āRobby,ā Jack says, warning.
āWhat?ā Robby shrugs. āIām just saying. Thereās context.ā
āYou told Robby?ā you shoot at Jack.
He opens his mouthā
āI heard from Santos,ā Robby cuts in, enjoying this far too much. āAnd McKay. Whole department knows youāve gone monk mode.ā
You scoff. āItās not monk mode, itās a detox.ā
āYeah,ā Robby nods. āAbbotās detoxing from joy, from what I can tell.ā
Jack exhales sharply. āCan we focus?ā
āYou are the one who brought up soup. Besides, this guyās gonna be fine. If he wasnāt, Shark here wouldāve bit one of your heads off,ā Robby shoots back.
Whitaker looks even more lost, Park stands off the side, giving Robby a brief glare before nodding back to you to continue.
āAngle your wrist,ā you tell him, cutting through it. āYouāre losing medial pressure.ā
āOhārightāsorryāā
āItās fine. Just donāt let him bleed out.ā
āRight. Yeah. Prefer that.ā
Jack hovers just behind your shoulder nowāclose enough that you can feel the heat of him, the shift of his weight when you adjust yours.
He leans in slightly, voice low, for you.
āBreakfast tomorrow,ā he murmurs. āIs it gonna be moreā¦ anti-inflammatory punishment?ā
You donāt look at him. āDepends.ā
āOn?ā
āHow much you told Robby.ā
He exhales a quiet, disbelieving breath, your words just for each other as the others get to work. āJust the basics. Nothing bad, just the weird bunny mask roleplay youāre into,ā he jokes. āAnd I am not moody.ā
āDebatable.ā
āReactionary to my dire circumstances some might say,ā he mutters.
āYouāre ridiculous.ā You remark.
Thereās the smallest pause. Then, softer, a bit quick, to make sure you know he means nothing bad by itā
āYou look lovely, by the way. And Iād eat oxygen if you made it for me, promise. I love all your cleansing meals.ā
You donāt respond to that. Not here, a small smile twitching at the corner of your lips.
āSecure it,ā Park says, already moving on mentally. āGet him upstairs.ā
You guide Whitaker through the final positioning, hands precise, controlled.
Jack steps back, watching you finish the job.
Still looking at you like that.
By the time you strip your gloves off, the room already shifting on, Robbyās watching you. Not subtle about it, an amused hint behind his tired eyes.
āWhen do you clock off?ā you ask, tossing the gloves.
āAn hour ago,ā he says. āI stay for the live show now. Better than anything on TV.ā
You huff. āHow is he doing?ā
Robby considers that, eyes narrowing like heās actually weighing it up.
āClinically?ā he says. āGreat. On top of it, always is. Itās annoying.ā
āAnd not clinically?ā you prompt.
He tilts his head. āMmā¦ a little rougher than usual,ā he admits. āBut heās dramatic. You know āim.ā
You grin. āYeah, I do. Itās cute.ā
āThatās certainly a word for it,ā he mutters, jerking his chin subtly across the room. āBecause he looks like heās about to file a formal complaint with God.ā
You follow the glanceāJack, shoulders tight, jaw set, mid-conversation with Park like heās holding himself together out of sheer professionalism.
You look back, unfazed. āItās temporary.ā
Robby studies you for a beat, then huffs a laugh. āYouāre enjoying this.ā
You donāt even try to hide it. āA little bit. Itās fifty-fifty. Itās fun seeing him worked up, itās annoying because we do have great sex. And I know that isnāt TMI for you because he tells me worse about your sex life.ā You pause, then add, āDidnāt realise Hastings was so freaky.ā
āJesus,ā Robby exhales, scratching at his beard. āYouāve been around him too long.ā
āOccupational hazard,ā you shrug.
He shakes his head, but thereās a smile tugging at it now despite himself.
Thereās a small pause, thenāmore casuallyā
āSoup was good, by the way.ā
You blink. āThe vegetable one?ā
āYeah,ā he nods. āDonāt tell him I said that.ā
āHe called it punishment.ā
āHeās wrong,ā Robby shrugs. āI had two bowls.ā
You brighten, just a fraction. āSee? Someone has taste.ā
āLetās not get carried away,ā he says. āItās still soup.ā
You laugh under your breath.
He glances around, then back to you. āI think Sharkās already ditched you,ā he adds, nodding toward the empty space where Park had been.
You swear quietly. āFuck. Whatever. Nice seeing you.ā
āYou too,ā he says, stepping aside.
You pass Jack on your way out, offering him a light, professional smile like nothingās off at all.
āSee you at home in a few hours.ā
He watches you go, something unreadable flickering across his face.
āLove you,ā he calls after you anyway, voice a little rough, arms folded as the room empties out.
āLove you too,ā you say as you hurry out, not turning back.
Youāre gone. Whitaker stands there for a second, still blood-specked, brain clearly lagging behind everything that just happened.
āIāmā¦ still a bit confused aboutāā he gestures vaguely between where you were and where Jack is now, āāthat.ā
Jack shoots him a look. Then Robby. Then just shakes his head, already walking.Ā
āHey, what have you told her about me and Noelle?ā Robby asks, following after, quiet, a bit antsy now.
Jack shakes his head immediately. āNothing much, just the leash stuff youāre into. Anyway, I think youāre sleep deprived, man. Time to clock off, daywalkers.ā
ā ā ā
Day Twenty Nine.
āSo, howāre we doing?ā you ask, already halfway into the break room fridge like itās part of your job description.
McKay and Santos are at the table with lunch. McKay looks as composed as everātired, but functional. Santos, on the other hand, looks like someone who has emotionally moved on from her entire relationship with Garcia but hasnāt informed her nervous system yet.
āGreat,ā Santos says immediately. Then, after a beat: āI stopped yoga.ā
You glance over. āWhy?ā
āPulled my calf,ā she replies. āTurns out inner peace is physically unsafe.ā
āUnfortunate,ā you say, finding Jackās labelled container and closing the fridge.
McKay watches you sit down. āThat his lunch?ā
āYeah.ā
āDoesnāt he need that later?ā she asks.
āHeāll order takeout,ā you say easily. āIām doing him a favour. He keeps eating the stuff I make, even though I know he hates it, I think he thinks suffering is his virtue.ā
Santos snorts. āHe and Garcia would get along in a really unbearable way.ā
You glance at her. āYou miss her.ā
She points at you with her fork. āDonāt.ā
āYou brought her up first.ā
āThatās because you brought up food and suffering in the same sentence,ā she shoots back. āItās a trigger.ā
McKay, calmly: āYou both need to stop talking.ā
You ignore her. You exhale, rubbing at your temple. You feelā¦ weird. Wired. Like your bodyās trying to replace one habit with ten others. Youāve thought about buying something three separate times this morning. Shoes, candles, a ridiculous blender you donāt need. You havenāt, obviously. Discipline. Wellness. Enlightenment.
āWhereās Robby?ā you ask. āI can split this with him.ā
āTalking to Gloria,ā Santos says. āLooks like heās in a mood. Snapped at Whitaker.ā
āGreat,ā you mutter. āTwo moody old attendings. Love that for you guys. I think Park might actually be more regulated than either of them.ā
McKay doesnāt push it, just turns her attention back to you, calmer. āYouāve been veryā¦ consistent with this whole detox thing. Very controlled. Composed.ā
Santos squints at you. āAlmost spiritual, honestly. Itās impressive.ā
You blink. āItās just discipline.ā
McKay hums. āMost people donāt call not having sex for a few weeks ādiscipline.ā They call it ābeing busy.ā Or just not having a high libido.ā
You sigh, too quickly. āIām justā¦ glad itās nearly over. I think Jackās actually counting down the days.ā
McKay tilts her head slightly at that but doesnāt bite yet, a slight purse in her lips. She makes eye contact with Santos. Santos bites back a smile. McKay begins to shake her head, as if reading her mind..
Santos, however, immediately does.
āSo,ā she says, leaning forward, āwhatās he like?ā
McKay shoots her a warning look over her fork.
āWhat?ā Santos says, unbothered. āIām curious. You thought of it too.ā
āLikeā¦ personality-wise?ā you try.
Santos waves a hand. āNo. Donāt be boring.ā
McKay mutters, āOh God.ā
Santos continues anyway, delighted now. āLike sex-wise. Come on. There has to be a reason heās walking around like a man personally victimised by fuckingā¦ yoga and vegetables.ā
You nearly choke. āSantosāā
āWhat?ā she says. āIām just saying. Thereās clearly a secret here. Heās what, fifty-something? Night shift ED attending? You know how fucked you have to be to be the attending on night shift? Robby level fucked up. And youāreāā she gestures vaguely at you, āyou. So either heās got some hidden advantage or youāve all been lying to yourselves.ā
McKay, dry as ever: āPlease stop talking.ā
Santos ignores her. āAm I wrong?ā
You stare at her.Ā
āThatās not an answer,ā she says.
McKay finally looks at you properly now, faintly amused despite herself. āYou do not have to answer that.ā
āIām not going to answer that,ā you say immediately.
Santos leans back, offended. āOkay, so itās missionary.ā
You blink. āAnd that's my cue to leave.ā
āDoggy?ā she tries. āAm I warm? Am I cold?ā
You stand up. āIām very happy for you and your recovery from Garcia, truly.ā
McKay actually smiles now. āThis is why I eat alone.ā
Then, casuallyā
āDo you guys have threesomes with Robby?ā Santos adds. āGot a vibe there.ā
You donāt even hesitate. āConstantly. Heās actually the glue holding the relationship together. Into weird shit.ā
McKay exhales through her nose.
Santos tilts her head. āI donāt believe you.ā
āThat sounds like a you problem. We host swinger parties, come by next Thursday if you want.ā
Santos rolls her eyes, somewhat disappointed by your sarcasm. At that exact moment, Dana walks in. She stops, looks between all of you, then sighs.
āOh no,ā she says, immediately clocking the energy. āWe having a party? What are youse talkinā about in here?ā
āNothing,ā McKay says instantly.
Santos says at the same time, āAbbotās sex life. Featuring Robby, too.ā
Dana physically recoils. āOh Jesus Christ, why?ā
You look at her like salvation. āHelp.ā
Dana points at Santos without hesitation. āNo. Absolutely not. Iām not beinā dragged into whatever this is.ā
Then she looks at you, and her whole face softens a little. She gives you a nod, as if to ask if youāre well. You give a nod back, a small smile.
Dana claps once, decisive. āAlright. Trauma two. You two. Now. Move it.ā
Santos groans. āYouāre ruining my research.ā
Dana points again. āMove. It. Out.ā
ā ā ā
Day Thirty Two.
Your schedules have always been a mess.
Some weeks you overlap perfectlyāsame shifts, same hours, brushing past each other in hallways, stealing five minutes in empty consult rooms, syncing like itās easy. Other weeks, like this one, you exist on completely different timelines.
Park needs you flexible. Jack is the schedule. So you miss each other.
You leave just as heās getting in. He leaves while youāre dead asleep. Nights bleed into days, days into nights, and suddenly itās been forty-eight hours of doubles and youāve communicated more through texts and post-it notes than actual words.
Eat something.
You too.
Left food in the fridge.
Miss you.
Jack finally makes it back into the apartment, adrenaline high shaking in his veins, excited to finally see you, feel you.
He shuts the door behind him, exhalesāand then pauses.
āHow are you cooking after working that long, baby?ā he calls out, already loosening up as he moves toward the kitchen. āChallenge is over, I am going to give you the best damn head of your life and then cuddle likeāā
āIād cuddle with you,ā Robby says from the stove, ābut Iām busy right now. Preferably not the head part, though.ā
Jack thinks for a moment, a slow nod.
āā¦You are not my girlfriend.ā
Robby glances over his shoulder, unimpressed. āI like to think of us as work husbands, but yeah. Good observation.ā
Jack just stares at him for a second, processing.
ThenāāWhy are you in my apartment?ā
Robby sighs, turning back to the pot like this is his burden to bear. āThis is not turning out well.ā
He gestures vaguely at the spaghetti bolognese like itās personally offended him.
āI followed her recipe,ā he adds.
Jack moves further in, slower now, dropping his bag, still trying to catch up, somewhat antsy as he taps the counter repeatedly. āWhere is she? She texted me she was home.ā
āShops,ā Robby says. āSaid she needed a few things. Asked me to start this because she didnāt wanna get changed and dirty her clothes, a surprise, or something.ā
A beat.
āI think Iāve screwed this up,ā he admits.
Jack sinks onto the stool at the island, scrubbing a hand over his face. āHow do you fuck up spaghetti?ā
Robby turns to him, dead serious. āWho puts that much sugar in a sauce?ā
Jack doesnāt even hesitate. āShe does. Itās good.ā
Robby squints. āIt feels offensive.ā
āItās not,ā Jack mutters. āItāsā¦ you know, balanced.ā
Robby gestures at the pot again. āItās dessert.ā
Jack leans forward, peering into it like heās assessing a trauma. āDid you reduce it?ā
āā¦Did I what?ā
Jack looks at him slowly. āOh my God.ā
āI stirred the thing, I don't know,ā Robby defends.
āYeah, Iām sure that helped,ā Jack says dryly, already pushing himself up despite the protest in his leg. āMove.ā
Robby steps aside with zero resistance. āBe my guest, chef.ā
Jack takes over, grabbing a spoon, tasting it, making a faceānot terrible, but not right.
āYou didnāt salt it properly,ā he says.
āI salted it.ā
āYou absolutely did not. I can even smell the absence of salt.ā
Robby watches him work for a second, then glances at him sideways. āYou look like shit, by the way.ā
āFeel like it,ā Jack mutters.
āYou two havenāt seen each other?ā
āNot properly.ā
Robby nods once, like that explains everything. Thenācasual, but not reallyāāOnce you finally get laid and stop being so damn dramatic, I need help with Noelle. Bring your girl if you want, I told her the two of youād meet. Tomorrow night?ā
Jack doesnāt even look up. āMy girl and I will be very busy, if all goes well, so, unlikely.ā
āā¦I hate knowing things about you,ā Robby mutters.
Jack huffs, stirring the sauce.
The front door clicks open. Both of them look up.
āRobby, you didnāt salt itāI can smell it,ā you call out immediately as you step inside, toeing off your shoes.
āSalting it now, sweetheart,ā Jack shoots back, not missing a beat. He flicks Robby a look. Robby scoffs.
You come in fully then, arms loaded with shopping bagsāVictoriaās Secret, a couple of clothing stores, something small and overpriced in tissue paper. You were pretty keen to break that no shop rule, apparently.
āWhenād you get back?ā you ask.
āFive minutes ago,ā Jack says, already moving toward you. āYou walk? I wouldāve picked you up.ā
āI was trying to surprise you,ā you say, smiling. āRobby wasnāt supposed to be part of it.ā
āShocking,ā Robby mutters.
You barely register himābecause Jackās right there, closer now, and you really do not care about some cleansing shit anymore. You grab his shirt and pull him in, kissing him quickāwarm, familiar, a little rushed like youāre making up for lost time in a single second.
You pull back just as fast.
āYou look like shit,ā you tell him, joking and dry.
āYeah,ā he says, softer now. āYou lookā¦ really good.ā
His hand slides up, brushing through your hair, lingering there a second longer than necessary.
You clear your throat, stepping away first. āOkay, how bad did he fuck the sauce?ā
āI did not fuck the sauce that bad,ā Robby says.
You move to the stove, peering in, grabbing a spoon. Taste. Pause.
āā¦Itās not that bad,ā you admit. āMaybe a bit more sugar, not enough salt.ā
Robby throws his hands up. āOf course it does. Why not throw chocolate in there while weāre at it?ā
āDonāt tempt me,ā you say lightly.
Robby exhales, grabbing his jacket. āAlright. Iām off. Danaās gonna love that I delayed my shift because I was domestic here.ā
āTell her I said hi,ā you call.
āIām not telling her anything,ā he mutters, heading out.
He pauses at the door, glances back at the two of youāat the way youāve both unconsciously drifted closer again without noticing.
āDonāt give him a heart attack. At that age you never know,ā he adds.
āOut!ā Jack says.
Robby leaves.
The door shuts.
And just like thatā
Itās quiet. No monitors. No pages. No interruptions. Just you and him. You donāt move at first, still standing by the stove, spoon in hand. Heās leaning against the island, watching you. Really watching you.
āDay Thirty Two, by the way,ā he says.
āReally? Didnāt notice,ā You shrug.
He nods, coming up besides you, watching as you stir the sauce.
āThis is gonna take ages. He didnāt reduce anything. Useless,ā You murmur, mostly sarcastic, as you look at it.
āOh, you know Robby,ā Jack sighs. āCanāt do anything right.ā
You put the lid on top, lowering it to a simmer. You hum to yourself, feeling Jackās eyes on you.
āCāmere,ā he says.
You step in between his legs, your gaze dragging over him as his hands catch your waist, pulling you in. His grip is heavy, grounding, sliding over your hips like heās relearning the shape of you after weeks of not touching.
āThis alright?ā he asks, quieter nowāthough his hand dips, squeezing your ass through the thin fabric of your dress.
You nod.
āSpeak,ā he adds, low.
āYes.ā
That does something to him. You see itājaw tightening, breath shifting, his eyes darkening as they move over you slowly, deliberately. Chest. Lips. Eyes again.
āWhat am I gonna do with you?ā he murmurs.
His hand comes up, sliding to the back of your neck, fingers spreading there, warm and steady. He tilts your face up, thumb brushing along your jaw, holding you in place like heās taking his time deciding something.
You canāt quite read him. Itās too much at once.
His thumb drifts lower, pausing at your bottom lip. You hesitateābarelyābut he notices.
āGo on,ā he murmurs, giving a small nod.
You do. Tongue slow, tentative at first, wrapping your mouth around the digit, then steadier, your focus slipping as his breathing changesāsubtle, but not enough to hide it. His shoulders pull back slightly, tension running through him like heās holding himself in check.
He exhales, eyes still locked on you.
āYeah,ā he mutters under his breath.
āWant another?ā he asks after a second, voice rougher now.
āMhm.ā
He moves his index and middle, thumb dropped to your chin, your saliva coating your jaw slightly as you suck the digits. He watches you for a beat longer, like heās considering pushing it furtherāthen drags his hand away instead, jaw tightening again.
āBedroom,ā he says, quieter, but it lands just as firm.
His other hand slides down your side, lifting the hem of your dress just enough to make his gaze dipābrief, restrainedābefore he turns you, your back to his chest, guiding you away.
āIām running on an adrenaline high from work, Iām gonna fuck you, then weāre gonna cuddle and sleep for twelve hours,ā he adds, voice low behind you. āThat sound good to you?ā
You turn your head, looking at him behind you. āLove you too,ā You give him a quick kiss to his lips, feeling him smile from that.Ā
You head down the hall, already pulling the dress up and over your head, not looking backābut you can feel his eyes on you until you disappear.
Behind you, the stove clicks off.
A second later, you hear him moveāquick now, like whatever control he had left is running out.
āYou know, I was talking to Santos about our wholeā¦ challenge,ā you start, slipping your dress off and draping it over the chair. You catch your reflection in the mirror, thumb swiping under your eye to fix the faint smudge of mascara. āTurns out she lasted all of ten days before she slept with Garcia.ā
He huffs a quiet breath against your shoulder, voice rough where it meets your skin. āSo all that torture for nothing?ā
āTortureās dramatic,ā you murmur, but thereās a smile tugging at it.
āYou did it on purpose,ā he counters, hand sliding up to cup your tit, squeezing through the fabric of your bra like heās testing a theory he already knows the answer to. āWalkinā around in thoseā¦ stupid shorts, the yoga, that little nightgownāwonāt even kiss me, wonāt even touch me.ā His thumb drags slow, deliberate. āYou know what that does to a man? That kind of taunting?ā
You let your head tip back against his shoulder, soft, unbothered on the surface even as your breath shifts. āI think Iāve got an idea.ā
āYeah?ā His mouth finds the space under your ear, kisses turning slower, heavierāless rushed now, more deliberate. He sucks at your neck, groaning low when you push back into him, feeling the way heās already half-hard under your touch.
You turn suddenly, hands braced on his shoulders, guiding him back until his knees hit the mattress. āI lied,ā you admit, pressing him down to sit. āAbout not touching myself.ā
His brows lift, something amused and dark flickering there as his hands move instinctivelyāreaching behind you, unclipping your bra with practiced ease. āYou? Lie?ā he mutters, watching as you pull it off and toss it aside. āWhat happened to Miss Wellness Mary Magdalene?ā
You barely get a breath out before his hands are back on you, over your tits, fingers pinching at your nipples, rougher now, less patientāpalming, shaping, like heās reacquainting himself. His mouth follows, pressing to your tits, tongue warm, stubble dragging just enough to make you jolt.
āItās bullshit,ā you breathe, the words breaking as he closes his mouth around your nipples, the sensation sharp and grounding all at once. āI was miserable the whole time.ā
āYeah?ā
āMm. The vegetable soup was shit. I miss my phone. Yoga is boring. I like tequila,ā you say, feeling his chuckle vibrate against your skin as he kisses over your sternum.
āWhat else?ā
āI like sex,ā you tell him, whimpering as his teeth drag over your nipple briefly, the sharp tug making your core clench. His other hand travels over your stomach to the pink panties, fidgeting with the sides of the material over your hip.Ā
You climb onto him, knees spreading wide beside his thighs, your body hovering just above his. āI really like it when you touch me. I like touching you. I like whenāā He cups your clothed pussy, his palm pressing firmly against the damp fabric.
āYou like that?ā he wonders, voice low and almost casual, watching as you moan at the contact, your arousal soaking through the panties instantly. āSpeak, sweetheart.ā
āYou know I like that,ā you gasp, grinding down against his hand instinctively.
He nods. āDamn right I do,ā His fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties, tracing the slick folds of your pussy with deliberate slowness, teasing the entrance before pushing one thick digit inside you.Ā
The intrusion is warm and welcome, stretching you just enough to make you clench around him. He curls it slowly, stroking that sensitive spot deep within your walls, the pad of his finger rubbing in firm, unhurried circles that make your thighs tremble and your breath hitch.Ā
You rock against his hand, chasing the building pressure. He adds a second finger without warning, scissoring them gently to open you up, then pumping them in and out with deliberate thrustsāshallow at first, then deeper, his knuckles brushing your clit on every inward slide.
His thumb finds your clit, circling it with rough, insistent pressure, alternating between tight loops and light flicks that draw out breathy cries from your lips. The wet sounds of his fingers fucking you fill the room mingling with your moans as he watches your face intently, eyes dark with hunger, drinking in every twitch and gasp.
āHow about this? You like it when I fuck you with my fingers?ā he asks, his voice a gravelly rumble, free hand gripping your hip to steady your grinding.
āMhm,ā you whine, riding his hand harder now, your pussy fluttering around the invading digits as they twist and probe, hitting that spot again and again.
He slides in a third finger, gently stretching you out, the fullness making you gasp as he kisses at your neck, lips hot and sucking lightly on the skin. You moan into his mouth when he claims your lips in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as his fingers maintain their rhythmācurling, thrusting, spreading you wider with each pass.Ā
He varies the pace, slowing to a torturous drag that lets you feel every ridge and vein on his fingers, then speeding up to plunge deep and fast, his palm slapping wetly against your mound.
āThatās right, atta girl, doinā so well, arenāt you?ā he murmurs against your throat, nipping at the pulse point while his thumb resumes those relentless circles on your clit, pressing harder now, building the ache into something electric.Ā
He watches as you ride his fingers, your juices dripping down his wrist, the obscene squelch growing louder with every movement.Ā
āWhatād you think of when you touched yourself, honey? You thinka me?ā
You nod frantically, words caught up in your moans, your walls clenching tighter around him. āUh-huh,ā you whine as he curls his fingers deeper into you, hooking them to stroke that bundle of nerves with precision, his other hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple, adding sparks of sensation everywhere.
He keeps you teetering, easing off just when you get closeāpulling his fingers almost all the way out before slamming them back in, thumb pausing its circles to let the tension simmer. Then he ramps it up again, fingers pistoning faster, thumb vibrating against your swollen clit. Sweat beads on your skin, your breaths coming in short, desperate pants as the coil in your belly winds impossibly tight.
āCāmon, baby, let go fāme,ā he murmurs, kissing at your neck with open-mouthed presses, his teeth grazing your earlobe.Ā
He feels as you tense and tighten around his fingers, hips bucking erratically, thighs quivering you come undone, jaw agape as your body stills over him, warm and melting.
āYou come when you touch yourself?ā he asks, quieter now.
His hand leaves you, trailing over your hips as he guides you back onto the bed. You go easily, breath unsteady, the anticipation settling into something heavier as you lie there, bare and waiting.
You shake your head.
āYou?ā you ask, your hand drifting instinctively over yourself, fingers trailing over your core, testing the sensitivity, your eyes flicking back to him.
He gives a short shake of his head, rolling his neck once like heās trying to keep himself together.
āStill got enough in you?ā you murmur, a little teasing. āOr did that shift kill you?ā
He huffs a breathāhalf laugh, half something tighter. āIād find the energy,ā he says, stepping out of his scrubs, not taking his eyes off you. āDonāt worry about that.ā
You watch him move, slower now but deliberate, like heās pacing himself instead of rushing it.
āYou wanna take that off?ā you start, glancing down to his prosthetic.
He follows your gaze, then looks back at you. āIn a minute,ā he says, already leaning over you again. āWanna make sure I remember what you taste like first.ā
He slides a pillow beneath your head, then gently eases your knees apart. You give a small nod. When his tongue traces slowly across your center, your body responds instantlyāback arching, breath catching. His palm presses firmly against your stomach, keeping you anchored.
āStay still fāme, can you, baby?ā He murmurs against you, barely enough for you to hear.
You gasp his name between ragged breaths, managing to nod yes, your fingers threading through his salt-and-pepper curls. His mouth moves against you with deliberate patienceāsoft yet demandingāand your lungs empty completely, replaced by something molten and urgent.
Ā āAtta girl, you feel good yeah, baby?ā He hums.
You nod fast. Your thighs tremble against his shoulders as he tastes you with unhurried determination, as though time has ceased to exist beyond this bed, beyond this moment. When his tongue finds that perfect rhythm, that perfect spot, coherent thought dissolves into desperate pleas that barely form words.
He groans against your center, vibrating against you as you claw at his nape, nails digging into his sun-kissed, freckled skin with desperate urgency. āGod, fuck, I missed this,ā you say,Ā
His tongue, slick and insistent, flicks against your clit, drawing out your orgasm with relentless precision. You feel the heat of your release coating his tongue, his lips, and he devours it hungrily, as if it's the sweetest nectar he's ever tasted.
āPlease, please, fuck,ā You mumble, brain foggy as his tongue sweeps over you with a kind of desperation of a starving man.Ā
His fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place as he feasts on you. You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive flesh, his tongue delving into every crevice, every fold as you come undone, moans loud to the point where you throw your hand over your mouth, biting down into your palm.
You let out a shaky breath, head back as he kisses your inner thighs, gentle, stubble coated in your orgasm before he climbs back over you, kissing you, deep, as you taste yourself on his tongue.Ā
āOnce I wake upāafter fucking youāobviously,ā He murmurs against you, sloppy tongues colliding. āIāll do that for three hours, until you canāt walk, alright?ā
You moan at the thought, nodding. You believe him because heās done it on many occasions. You think he just likes doing it to get you to go to sleep sometimes or knock you out and he can take care of you or something. That and he just entirely gets off on you.
āFuck willpower,ā He says against you as he briefly tests your folds with fingers over your sensitive clit, watching your mouth open in a small whine, lashes fluttering, another hand pulling your body even closer, as you wrap your legs around his waist. āFuck being cleansed, alright?ā
āMm,ā You say, watching as he swallows, youāre watching maybe the toll of his shift start to come back physically and you move your hands to his cheek, away from whereād he place them above your head.Ā
You donāt say anything, just still him briefly, eyes wide, a nod, a check in. He nods, mouth twitching in a smile.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with a practiced ease born from years of undressing after long shifts. His cock hard and eager, his breath hitching as you wrap your hand around his length, your touch sending electric shocks through him.Ā
You spit into your palm, the wet sound echoing in the quiet room, and he groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through him. Your hand moves over his cock, slick and smooth, your fingers tracing the veins, your thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. He curses under his breath, a string of words that would make a sailor blush, his hips jerking forward, seeking more of your touch.
āShitā¦ fucking hellā You keep doing that this is gonna a lot quicker than I mentally planned for.ā He tells you.
āWhatād you mentally plan for?ā You chuckle, a low, sultry sound that sends shivers down his spine, your hand never pausing in its slow, torturous rhythm.
āWell, six hours of foreplay,ā he moves his cock over your pussy, gliding it over your folds, amused by your gasp of a moan. āSix hours of shower sex, kitchen, couch, each. Obviously sixā¦ emotionallyā¦ intelligent, beautiful conversation about life and marriage. Ever thought about wanting a third?ā
āI donāt know, have you?ā You murmur, watching as he taunts you as he moves his cock over your pussy, the head slipping through your folds, coating itself in your wetness. You gasp, your back arching, your hips lifting to meet him. He groans, his eyes fluttering closed, savoring the feel of you.
āChrist,ā He murmurs, absentmindedly, then, with a slow, steady push, he slides into you, his cock filling you completely. You moan, your nails digging into his back, your body arching into his. āMaybe. I donāt know. We can talk about this later.āĀ
Heās still for a moment, body hot and warm above you as his hand grips onto your hips. You let out a shaky breath and smile. āYou alright there, old man?ā
āHeavenly,ā he says quite earnestly, leaning to kiss you down at your neck. āMissed this. God, itās like youāre made for me. So goddamn perfect.ā
You clench slightly at his words, hearing as he groans at that, vibrating against your skin. A moment passes before you start getting desperate for action.
āPlease move, baby,ā You ask, looking up at him with eagerness.
āāCourse, whatever you want, sweetheart,ā He kisses your lips softly, before moving.
Pulling out slowly before sliding back in, his pace steady and sure. With each thrust, he swallows your moans with his kisses, his hands tangling in your hair, his body pressing you into the mattress. You can feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein, and it's perfect.Ā
His tongue dances with yours, exploring your mouth, tasting you. His hand tangles in your hair, his grip firm but not painful, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. You moan into his mouth, your body arching into his, your nails digging into his back.Ā
He pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire. "You feel so good," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "So fucking good."Ā
You can only nod, your words lost in the pleasure that's coursing through your veins. He starts to move faster, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding in and out of you with increasing urgency. You can feel the pleasure building, the tension coiling in your belly, your pussy clenching around him.Ā
His hand travels from your hair to your face, cupping your cheek, keeping your eyes on him. You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your body arching into his touch. He groans, his cock twitching inside you at the sight of you losing yourself in his touch.Ā
He gently moves two fingers down your chest and stomach, landing at your core, above where he fucks you. He circles your clit, his touch firm and steady, drawing tight circles that make your hips buck off the bed. You let out a low moan, your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps.Ā
He can see your arousal coating his cock, your slick gathering around the base, and it spurs him on. He leans down, his lips finding your ear. "You like that, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "You like feeling me stretch you, filling you up?"Ā
āYes, yes, mhm,ā you try, nails moving from his back to his biceps, hard and taught beneath your touch.
He starts to move faster, his hips slamming into you, his cock sliding in and out of you with increasing urgency. You can feel the pleasure building, the tension coiling in your belly, your pussy clenching around him.Ā
His weight edges off just enough, bracing more through his arms and left side, breath going a touch uneven where it presses against your shoulder. Not stoppingāheād push through it if you let himābut compensating. You feel it.
Your hands slide up his back, slower now, anchoring āTake it off, baby,ā you murmur softly, glancing down toward the prosthetic. āYouāve had it on too long.ā
He eases to a stop, controlled, careful not to jostle you as he shifts his weight fully off. You guide him back with you, hands steady at his sides, both of you moving without needing to overthink itāthis part practiced, familiar.Ā
He settles against the pillows with a small exhale, rolling his shoulder once as if resetting himself. You stay close, one hand resting at his hip, the other brushing briefly up his chestāgrounding, not rushing him.Ā
He reaches down, undoing the prosthetic with efficient movements, years of muscle memory. Thereās no awkwardness to it, no self-consciousnessājust a small release in his face as it comes free. You take it from him without comment, setting it at the foot of the bed like you always do.
āBetter?ā you ask, thumb tracing idly along his side.
He nods once, eyes flicking back to you, something softer under the edge of want. āYeah. Cāmere.ā
You shift back over him, settling in close again, your knees bracketing his hips, easy and familiar. You lean down to kiss him, long and sweet, less immodest as your other ones, maybe. Just maybe, as his hands immediately find your ass, helping your back arch into him, cock still hard as you slide over it, folds wet and sensitive.
āGod, youāreāā He groans as you bite at his bottom lip, pulling it back, as you kiss down his chest. āGonna be the death of me.ā
You lean down, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin, tracing a path down his chest, over his stomach, until you reach the V that leads to his cock. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the anticipation in them.Ā
You take your time, your tongue sliding over his shaft, from base to tip, feeling him pulse under your touch.Ā
āGreat way to go,ā he murmurs as he watches you.
You take him into your mouth, feeling him slide over your tongue, your lips stretching to accommodate him. He groans, his hand finding your hair, not pulling, just gripping, as you take him deeper, your mouth warm and wet. You can feel him, hard and throbbing, and you know he's close, with how his arms tighten and tense, fingers tighter on your scalp.Ā
You pull back, your tongue flicking over the head of his cock, tasting the precum that beads at the tip. You sit back, straightening your spine, and look at him. His eyes are on you, hungry and intense.Ā
You spit on his cock, watching as the saliva slides down his shaft, making it glisten in the soft light. You rise up, your knees bracketing his hips, and lower yourself onto him, feeling him slide into you, inch by inch.Ā
āOh, fuck, fuck, fuck,ā you whimper as you settle on top, nails over his chest.
He groans, his hands finding your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you. You can feel him, deep and hard, filling you completely. You start to move, your body rolling and grinding against him, your hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.Ā
His hands roam over your body, one staying on your hip, guiding your movements, the other trailing up your stomach, over your breasts, squeezing them, his thumb brushing over your nipple. You gasp, your head falling back.
His thumb circling your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He starts to talk you through it, his voice slow and steady, a counterpoint to the fast, hard rhythm of your bodies. "You're so fucking beautiful, riding me like this. God- so tight and wet for me, arenāt you, sweetheart?"Ā
His words send a shiver through you, your body tensing, your breath hitching in your throat.Ā
āYeah? Yeah, thatās right, thatās right," he mutters. āCāmon, baby, right there fāme, youāre doing so good.ā
āPlease,ā you moan, hips grinding down against him.
āYou need help, honey? Just ask,ā He sits up, his chest pressing against yours, his breath hot on your neck. He reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.Ā
You whine, your body arching into his touch, your hips moving in time with his fingers.
āCāmon, words for me,ā he says, breathing heavily against you as he finds himself closer to the edge at how you clench down on him, tight and warm.
āWanna cum,ā you pant, your body tense, your breath coming in short gasps.
āAgain? So greedy,ā he mocks. āGo āhead, you can do itā
His words push you over the edge. You move, your body rolling and grinding against him, your hips moving in a fast, frantic rhythm. You can feel it, the pleasure snapping, your body convulsing, your nails digging into his back, your mouth open in a silent scream.
"Good girl," he groans, his body tensing, his cock pulsing inside you. He follows you, his release hot and hard, filling you completely.Ā
You collapse onto his chest, your body spent, your heart pounding in your ears. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his body still trembling with the aftermath. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, and you know, in this moment, everything is right.
You stay there a little longer than you mean to, half sprawled over him, your cheek pressed to his chest, skin still warm, damp, real. His arm is draped around youāloose now, heavy with exhaustionābut his fingers keep moving anyway, absentminded, tracing slow patterns over your back like he canāt quite stop touching you yet.
Like he doesnāt want to.
You draw lazy shapes over his shoulder, connecting freckles you already know by heart, like itās something youāve done a hundred timesābecause you have.
āI love baseless temptations,ā you murmur.
Jack lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low in his chest, vibrating under your cheek. āYeah,ā he says, voice rough but easy. āMe too.ā
Thereās something softer in it now. Not the edge from before. Justā¦ him.
You shift slightly, listening to his breathing settle, feeling the way his body gives into the mattressāfinally. Like heās been holding himself upright all day and only now gets to stop.
āFourteen hours,ā you mumble, almost to yourself, remembering your insane schedules. āAnd you still managed toāā
āDonāt finish that sentence,ā he cuts in, dry.
You grin against his skin. āI was gonna say āimpress me.āā
āSure you were.ā
āI was,ā you insist, lifting your head to look at him properly. āHonestly, I thought youād pass out.ā
He cracks one eye open at that. āHave a little faith.ā
āI do,ā you say, brushing your thumb over his jaw, softer now. āI also have eyes. You look like you got hit by a truck.ā
āFeel like it,ā he mutters.
āMm.ā You lean down, press a brief kiss to his chestānothing urgent, just there. āStill did good.ā
He exhales a quiet laugh at that, head tipping back. āChrist. Itās alright, Iāll probably crash in twenty minutes. Took tomorrow off, at least.
You watch him for a secondāreally watch him. The lines of tension finally easing out of his face, the way his shoulders have dropped, the way he looksā¦ settled. Not asleep, not yet. Just here. With you.
It hits you again, softer this time, how much of him is usually in motionāpulled in a hundred directions, needed everywhere at onceāand how rare it is to have him like this. Still. Letting himself be here, with you, without reaching for the next thing.
You smooth your hand over his chest, slower now, grounding.
āYou gonna keep up the meditation thing?ā he asks, voice rough with the edge of sleep.
You huff quietly. āProbably not.ā A beat. āUnless youāre suddenly interested.ā
āMm. I think Iāll stick to therapy,ā he murmurs. Then, after a second, a little more awakeāāYou still think I need other hobbies?ā
You glance at him, mouth curving. āNo. Iām actually very supportive of your current hobby.ā You lean in, kiss him soft. āBig fan. Please continue exclusively.ā
He laughs into it, low and tired, something easy settling back into him.
āIāll be right back,ā you add, brushing your thumb along his jaw. āGonna clean up, check the spaghetti. Youāll eat something, then weāll watch Housewives in bed. Deal?ā
āI can help, Iāllāā
āāStay,ā you cut in gently, pressing him back into the pillows. āIāve spent a stupid amount of money while I was out this morning, this is more for me than it is for you, trust.ā You tell, already slipping out from under the sheets.
You move around the room in one of his old shirts, easy, familiarātidying, grabbing what you need, the quiet domestic rhythm of it settling everything back into place. Itās almost meditative, in a way that none of the actual meditation ever was. This is the version that works for you: him in the bed, you in the room, the soft comedown of it all.
When you come back, he hasnāt moved much. One arm over his eyes, breathing slower now, like heās finally letting himself drop. You sit beside him, brush your hand over his chest again, then pass him a bowl.
āEat, quick, before it gets cold,ā you say.
He obeys, because of course he does, getting through a few bites before setting it aside with a quiet exhale.
You keep going, perched cross-legged beside him, the normalcy of it comforting after a month of physically pushing him away to be cleansed, when ironically, you feel more cleansed than ever to be near him.
Thereās a pause.
āSo,ā you begin. āWhat was that thing you said? Earlier? About a third?ā
He chuckles. āI was just kidding, hon,ā he says, a little rough, like heās not fully back yet. He presses a lazy kiss to your head. āWhy?ā
You tilt your chin up slightly, watching him. āI donāt know.ā Your head ring vaguely with Santosā words from the other day. He reads pretty quickly where your train of thought is going.
āHypothetically. If you had to pick someone.ā You ask.
He looks at you properly now, narrowing his eyes just a fraction like heās trying to read the angle. Like thereās definitely a wrong answer here and heād quite like to avoid it.
You just hold his gaze, completely neutral.
A beat passes. Something unspoken flickers between youāquick, familiar.
Who would you pick?
Who do you think Iād pick?
Are we about to say the same name?
āā¦Robby,ā you both say at the same time.
Thereās a pause. Then Jack lets out a quiet, disbelieving huff of laughter, shaking his head against the pillow. āJesus Christ.ā
You grin a little, unable to help it. āI meanāobjectivelyāā
āHeād beā¦ fucking insufferable about it,ā Jack cuts in immediately. āYou know he would.ā
You refrain from commenting, leaving your spaghetti aside, as you open your computer. Jack groans, dragging a hand over his face. āHeād give me notes or something.ā
Youāve got Housewives on your computer. Itās obviously the New York one, still early days - Season 4.
āSo what happened in the mid-season finale again?ā You ask as you settle against him.
āI barely remember, honestly,ā He sighs. āRamonaās being difficult, someone brought the wrong wine, itās a mess. Cindy is great, though.ā
His arm tightens around you again, a quiet, grounding squeeze.
The episode keeps playing. His commentary gets more frequentādry, half-interested, pretending heās above it while very clearly tracking every single detail.
You let it happen, tucked into him, warm, fed, a little tired in the best way.
Cleansed, in a way none of the yoga or herbal tea ever managed. Just thisāhim, you, the low hum of something ridiculous on screen, and the easy, familiar weight of being exactly where youāre meant to be.
a/n: i love this song! I got this though from when i watched a robby x abbot tiktok edit to my man on willpower, and if im desperate for inspo i go to my tiktok edits and see if i can spur some ideas, and i was like, oh maybe abbot like not fucking you or something because of some self care thing and i was like, god heād never do that. heās fucking whenever, life is short, he would want to treat his partner as much as he can mentally and physically handle i think. And then i was like. Wait, lets switch the beatā¦. anyway i had to restrain myself from writing more orlike writing everyday and unpacking different interactions. i wrote a scene where'd try to seduce you with his "slutty pyjamas" (his army uniform) and you gaf or something but i felt too much 2nd hand embarrasment. im so tired i have triivia to go to now i have no idea if this is good i just want it done so i caan study and work on the lawyer series!
hello! I love your writing and I saw you want ellis requests!
(this may be odd, but walk with me here)
I read a headcanon where someone said Mel is an army brat and perhaps her dad was army buddies with abbot, so their families get along well. Adding to that, I was thinking of abbot having a kid (reader) that was childhood/teen friends with Mel & Becca, just recently moved to Pittsburgh and then reconnected w the king sisters. Reader happens upon the pitt during nightshift and surprises her dad (abbot) in either a fun or un-fun way in the ED. Meets Ellis and they both are into each other from the beginning (abbot is clueless) and perhaps they go out for drinks or something with Mel and other pittlings and they fall in loveš
baby Iām not walking with you Iām RUNNING!!! YESSSS OKAYYYYY!!! I cannot wait to write this omg. Yall KEEP EM COMING PLSSSSSUHHH
Hey Ria, I just saw the work mom request and it was so so good, thank you for writing it. I love fics where they're a bit oblivious and act like an old married couple despite not being together. It's sent me spiralling to imagine what they'd be like if someone started flirting with the other and they're like "nope, don't like that, that's my...wait we're not together" and everyone in the ED assuming they are and being like someone's trying to steal your man/girl and she/he becomes jealous š. I'm going to go marinate in this rabbit hole for a bit.
Honestly, the fic is so good, I can't wait to see what else you write, keeping my eyes peeled, you're so talented š
Hi anon!! So glad you liked it, and I was literally thinking the same things while I was writing the whole thing. I think this is how itās play out!!
I believe Jack would feel very protective and possessive (in a healthy way), because how dare someone else try and take care of his sunshine without making their intentions abundantly clear!
**small part 2 hc to this!!**
āDo you always looks at patients like that?ā
āLike how?ā
āLike you want to them to ask you out?ā
Jack couldnāt take the horrible attempt at flirting this man was trying to accomplish. What was even worse was that you giggle, still smiling.
He knew you were nervous, not in the āoh my, he might ask me outā kind of wayā¦in the āoh absolutely never going to happen kind of wayā
āI do not. Iām professional and I know who is and isnāt worth my time.ā You gave him a short smile, already dreading the whole time youād be treating him for his laceration.
āSo youāre saying Iām not worth your time?ā
āThatās exactly what Iām saying.ā
āThatās exactly what sheās saying.ā You and Jack spoke at the same time. The same disapproving look on your faces.
Though his came from a place of pure disgust and jealousy that heād even try to attempt to talk to someone of your caliber. Youāre too good looking and way out of his league.
You shot Jack a look, pointed but satisfied that heād shut something like that down for you in an instant. You could handle yourself but you liked him being protective. It was kinda hot.
āI like them older anyways.ā You shrugged, collecting the remains of your trash from irrigating his wound. āDr. Abbot has a better chance at scoring a date than you, I fear.ā
You sounded mean, but this wasnāt the first time someone has tried to take advantage of your demeanor thinking you were easy.
You were sunshine and rainbows, not stupid and helpless. You also werenāt blind, which is why Jacks flustered state wasnāt lost on you as you turned heel and walked out the room.
āThereās no shot, sheād go for you man.ā Jack rolled his eyes as he followed behind you. It took him 3 seconds to register that you had already told your fellow coworkers that the sleaze in room 4 tried to hit on you, how you so kindly deflected and used your attending to get out of it.
āOh so someone was trying to swoop in on your girl, Dr. Abbot?ā Ellis poked fun at the older man, eliciting amused grins and chuckles from the crowd that appeared to be forming right in front of you.
He waved them all off. You already leaving to go treat others as you do so well. The remainder of the group just stared at him, scanning his expression as he silently recalled the whole encounter.
āDonāt think too hard, Abbot.ā Shen spoke from across the way. āMight add more wrinkles.ā
āOh shut up. I just didnāt like how he talked to my g-ā he cut himself off. Thereās no way he almost called you āmy girlā when you two werenāt even close to that title exchange yet.
Heād like to be, he wanted to be, but you werenāt.
āResident. I mean Resident.ā He couldnāt save his ass now, the damage was done and he could tell by the cackles leaving three different nurses and his other two doctors.
āSure, you do buddy. Donāt worry, we all know sheās off limits. Sheās all yours.ā Shen gave him a right lipped smile, patting his shoulder as he walked behind.
āNever seen Dr. Jack Abbot so jealous over someone hitting on sunshine.ā Lena spoke up from behind the desk, feigning focus on charting, her small sideye to the older man being caught by him instantly.
He was a blushing overheating mess. āAll of you get back to work. I mean it.ā He gave up trying to save himself, turning to occupy himself with literally anything else.
āI believe sheāll 100% take you up on that date, doc!ā Parker couldnāt let this go. It was very amusing to her as everyone had known Jack had felt this way about you. He wasnāt very good at hiding his crush. Neither were you, clearly.
He just walked off, shooting her a playful middle finger over his shoulder.
He was jealous, heād admit. No one had any right to be interested in you like that, when he was already head over heels for you. Only he could shamelessly flirt and score a date with you. And boy did he intend to now.
For Abbot, could I please get a fic where she's a resident, and a fixer, always making sure the others are okay, checking up on them as well, and making sure they eat, lending a near for anything but she has a tendency to forget about herself. Maybe Abbot notices and sorta just quietly begins doting on her but her own forgetfulness results in her fainting and the Pitt to kinda be like "work mom fainted." Jack could notice her fading and being the one to start fussing over her like she fusses over everyone else. š„°
I love this. I just read three utterly devastating fics about Jack, and I need to be revived by a sweet, happy reader and Jack. Hope you like!
Get What You Put Into the World
Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader
words: 3.5k
Warnings: self-neglect, sunshine reader to anyone and everyone, forgetting she needs her own sunshine too, soft!Jack, overprotective!Jack, fluff!!,
rimunagenius speaks: I'm back and writing after the long ass hiatus, and I've never been happier y'all, i dont know what to do with myself. Had to come back and proofread bc no one told me this looked a mess :((
-
"Work, Mom has entered the building!" This is how Mateo had greeted you every shift. He took pride in the title, as did you, but he loved to refer to you as such due to the endless number of times you made sure he had a snack while working triage.
"I'm here, how is my little duckling doing?" You smiled at him fondly, handing him a breakfast croissant from Better Buzz on the way to work.
His smile grew wide, before giving you a 'thank you' side hug, before stashing it under the check-in counter where his lunch resides. You walked to the lockers, packing your things away and grabbing what you needed for the incoming night shift.
"Hey Robby, brought you something." You slid a cookie-dough cake pop from Dutch Bros. his way. You found out he liked these when you had been greeting Dana at the nurses' station, and he snuck a bite while updating his final chart before he was heading home. "You could've just asked, you know," and a small "Yeah, but it was calling my name, had to think fast," followed. You had turned it into a ritual and brought him one every other shift.
Something about leaving a buffer day so he could feel like he was actually staying fit and watching his calorie intake. You left Jack's on the counter, sticky note already on it. He walked up next to Robby when you resumed the conversation with Dana, her husband's attempt at making her a nice dinner for their anniversary, making you giggle and smile so brightly, you hadn't noticed he snuck a bigger bite of the cakepop you had left unattended again. Leaving you with one small final bite, your first one at that. Dana sighed, giving them the unamused look she always directed at the pair when they were together, catching their attention. "Not you too," and Jack shot you a smile, mouth full of the pink cakepop.
"Oh, thank you." He greeted you with a hug and patted your back. "You shouldn't have." Dragging out the final word as he unwrapped the delectable treat from the bag.
"It was nothing, really. Figured you needed it after the morning you've had." You smiled at him softly, placing your stethoscope on your neck, reaching for a tablet to see if you needed to pick up someone's admitted patient.
"No, really, you shouldn't have." He said, or tried to, as he was already backpedaling towards the exit, bag slung on his shoulders, mouth full, half the cakepop already gone. You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips as you had set the tablet down, figuring you'd wait for the next five minutes for Jack to start rounds.
You made it a habit to take care of everyone you worked with. Including day shift. It wasn't long ago that you were on the same shift. You had been a senior resident, your attending doctor position hopefully nearing soon.
Besides that, you just wanted to take care of the people who devoted their lives to caring for everyone else. It was the least you could do. Everyone had taken notice of this.
You were greatly appreciated at the PTMC. You were the ED's very own ray of sunshine in gloomy energy that came with treating traumas, successful or not. You were happy with the occasional flowers you got for Valentine's in return, but you didn't do it for the potential reward; you did it because you simply...wanted to.
You had left a drink carrier on the counter, labeled with your fellow residents names, their fav coffees to start their shift off on the rght foot. It wasn't until you were tripple checking that you had remembered everyone's orders that Dr. Abbot had walked up behind you.
"Greetings, sunshine." His face was glued to the tablet in his one hand, placing the coffee cup from his run to get coffee before work, onto the counter. He shot a glance your way. It wasn't lost on him that you seemed to take care of everyone. Working in healthcare, especially in the busiest ER in the city of Pittsburgh, can take a lot from you. Hell, it took a lot from him, even after everything he went through during his active duty and service in the military.
He adored that you hadn't let it take that from you. Your welcoming demeanor remains intact, the big smiles shared with not just your coworkers but patients, too. You were exceptional at your job. He knew it, and everyone knew it. You had the highest patient satisfaction scores on night shift, beating out Shen in your first week.
Because he happened to notice everything, he noticed that while you were busy taking care of everyone else, you often forgot about yourself. He'd pride himself on his perceptiveness and how well he could read others and see things that other people missed. Which is why when he noticed your brows knitting together while counting the coffee cups you brought for everyone else, you had realized you forgot your own.
"I'm already on it, don't worry." He slid the cup he had placed on the counter just seconds ago, your way. He admits he had to ask around for your order, not fully knowing it by heart, but knowing that you liked the biggest size so you could make it last, not too much ice so when the ice melts you don't lose the sweet but bitter taste of your coffee, and that you hated black coffee and preferred something sweeter like milk and caramel in it.
Fitting to your personality, if you asked him.
You turned and faced him, a shocked expression on your face. "Hi, Dr. Abbot." You were puzzled as to how he knew you had forgotten to order your own coffee this morning. You hadn't even announced that yet. "Wha- How'd you know." You smiled at him widely, taking the Iced Golden Eagle, with extra caramel and soft top on it.
"This is the third time this week you've forgotten about your coffee, sweetheart. Figured it was bound to happen again." You blushed embarrassingly at the fact he noticed, but more at the fact that you should've learned by the second time to not forget about yourself too. He felt a wave of warmth when he watched you take a sip and hum to yourself softly as you enjoyed the drink.
"Thank you so much! You shouldn't have, I could've gotten a coffee on a break from the break room." You glanced at his soft expression, one that you hoped would soften with every coming night shift. You were going to make it your mission to soften the 'tough, brooding Jack Abbot.'
"We both know that'd be your worst nightmare. Don't worry about it, kid. It was nothing, really." He shot you a quick wink, it was so quick you thought you missed it.
If you wouldn't remember to include yourself, he would. It was easily going to become his new favorite way to chase a high. Pleasing the biggest people pleaser, in a good way, of course, he knew.
-
There was six hours of your shift left. It had been pretty busy to where everyone snagged whatever downtime they had left to get a snack, catch up on charting or to use the bathroom. Not that the downtime was long enough for either anyways.
The lull in the ED was very welcome by everyone. No new traumas, enough nurses to cover triage, so when you walked up to Ellis, who seemed to be scrounging her lunch bag for a snack and failed miserably, you offered your help.
You threw a granola bar across the counter, taking a seat right next to her. "Thanks, Sunshine. My lifesaver." She immediately tore into the wrapper taking a swift bite.
"Anytime." You were looking forward to that granola bar, actually. It had been the last one in your pantry, and your paycheck wouldn't clear until two days from now. You would just have to add it to the grocery list.
Shen wasn't far behind, rounding the corner of the hallway, the trauma room 4 door closing behind him. He let out an exasperated sigh, plopping in the rolling chair next to you guys.
He rolled a few centimeters, but he didn't seem to mind as his arms were crossed over his eyes, and he rested his head over the back of the chair. "You hungry? Need to eat before the wind picks up in here."
Unbeknownst to your group, your attending, Dr. Abbot, had been watching from across the way. He was glancing at the board, a boy about eight years old, waiting for the results to come back from the lab about his stomachache. Couldn't be more than just a regular, harmless ache. Another patient suffering from a concussion, taking a rest in trauma three in the dark, before being discharged.
He had nothing to do, which was rare, and during this time, he would usually be making his way to the vending machine for a snack and a new cup of coffee. Which he now fully intended on doing when he watched you slide your last two snacks that were in your scrub pockets to Shen.
Damn you and your need to help everyone, he thought to himself.
It was admirable, really. He never saw anyone as giving as you. He called it your biggest strength, but it also seemed to be your biggest weakness because you couldn't refuse. Even when you knew you needed to.
He got two bag of chips from the vending machine. He saw you scarf a bag of cheddar ruffles enough times to know you prefered those the most, and he even grabbed himself one.
He made a detour to the break room, his lunch bag tucked away in the corner of the counter, hoarding his other snacks for the rest of the shift. He grabbed his last granola bar and decided you needed this win more than he did.
He was on his way out when you had walked in, a small sigh escaping your lips. You hadn't noticed him yet as you sat at the table and put your head down until you were needed elsewhere.
You were very tired, and you hadn't known why. You probably didn't get enough sleep last night. Maybe you were hungry, but you wouldn't go get a snack because you're trying to preserve the rest of your last paycheck for groceries for the next two days.
"You need to eat." His voice caught you by surprise. You popped your head up and gave him a tired smile.
"Hey, Dr. Abbot. Fancy seeing you here." You joked, a stupid grin on your face, before shooting him the most unserious wink. You couldn't even wink properly, which made the interaction all the more comical.
He himself was shocked when he chuckled softly at the horrible wink and unfunny joke. Perhaps that's why what was supposed to be unfunny was funny, because it was you doing it.
"Hello to you too. Here, eat this." He slid the bag of chips and a granola bar your way before turning and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge a few feet away. He slid that your way, too. "Watched you give away your snacks, figured you may be hungry."
You gaped at him. He had seen that? Seemed like today, he seemed to notice a lot of things that you had been doing. You were hoping you'd find a new snack in your lunchbox, that happened to be next to his, that you had missed like you had been the last few weeks.
"I don't want to take your food. You should eat too." You suggested, a longing gaze for the chips infront of you selling you out.
"Take the damn snack. Don't worry about me. You're who I'm worried about," He slid the snacks closer to you, reaching and opening the back of the chips, and reaching in and grabbing one. Holding it out to you, waiting for you to open your mouth. "Now eat."
You obliged and opened your mouth, a satisfied groan coming from your chest when he placed the chip in your mouth, and he grabbed another, waiting for you to finish.
"You don't have to feed me the chips, you know." You chuckled softly at the gesture. He was acting like a doting husband. Not that you wanted that, not that you didnāt either. Well, who complains about a good-looking older man hand-feeding you your favorite chips? I mean, it's Jack Abbot, so you would not dare complain, but he didn't have to, is all.
"Making sure you eat is all," He fed you the one that was in his hand. He watched as you took the chip in your mouth. Feeling accomplished that he was able to get you like this. To eat, yes. But to allow him this close to you, to allow him to perform this act of service to you. "You're always taking care of everybody else, but who takes care of you?" He whispered.
You noticed he scooted closer in his chair, his knee barely kissing yours under the table. You let him feed you the chips, and you watched as he unwrapped the granola bar for you. That he let you eat by yourself, but he opened the water bottle, and made sure you at least drank half before returning to your shift.
You thanked him, adorning that sweet smile, grabbing his hand, and thanking him for his service to you. He watched as you walked out the door. The phantom feeling of your hand dragging away from his as you walked out with a newfound pep in your step after being energized was a massive win for him.
He liked doing this. Taking care of you.
-
You don't know why you suddenly couldn't catch your breath. You had been treating and talking to a geriatric patient before politely excusing yourself because you suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded. You had snacks, you had water, you remember because Jack had literally hand-fed you.
In hindsight, you realized you hadn't been hydrating as much as you'd liked. The last time you had water was when you were with Jack, but you only had half the bottle.
That was 5 hours ago. You thought you could make it through the rest of the shift without a break. But what you didn't take into account was the fact that the ER had gone increasingly busy over the last several hours.
A car pileup takes up all of your time and has you running from room to room to help med students and jump into action. You hadn't sat down, hadn't eaten a real meal, the lunch you brought for yourself being forgotten in the breakroom fridge.
You were walking down the hall, passing Matteo. "You're not looking so hot. You doing okay?" Your cheeks were flushed, somehow the room felt like it was spinning, and your steps faltered just barely. Noticeable to you to know something was wrong, easily passable as a trip to others.
"No, y-yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Just need water." You patted his shoulder, convincing him enough to let you off on your own. He turned to make sure you had been okay, and he just kept on.
You got to the nurses desk and grabbed your water bottle you had left there. You popped the lid open, and only a single drop escaped, barely replenshing the declining state you had been in. Uh oh. This was not good.
You had given some water to a little boy here waiting for his brother. He was crying and wandered out of the room, and you had scooped him up while you attempted to drink water. Water bottle in hand, he started to ask about your stickers, enamored with a Spiderman one your nephew had stuck on there weeks ago.
He proclaimed his undying thirst to you, and you trying to appease the solemn boy, you told him you knew Spiderman could help, and before you know it, you had let him have the whole thing. "Damnit." You turned to go retrieve more water, maybe a snack, your stomach quite frankly speaking to you because you missed your lunch three hours ago.
Jack had been discarding his gown and gloves after leaving one of the final pile up victims. Fluids he didnāt wish to identify plastering his gown, and a little bit of his shoes. He looked up, spotted you, and was on his way to check on you when he saw you almost trip yourself with your own feet.
He started to push quicker, watching the cold sweat forming rapidly as he rounded your side to hoist you up. "Whoa, slow down. Are you okay? I was just coming to check on you." He said softly, his voice going from stern and serious to soft and concerned.
"Yeah, just hungry and thirsty. I was on my way to the break room." You said, wiping a little sweat off your forehead. You were really hungry. The snack wrappers that you let the other have earlier were just left there to taunt you on the counter behind him. You really should've just stashed one for yourself, you thought.
He let go of your arm; you were completely unaware he had grabbed you to stabilize you, and the second you looked away from him, the spinning room suddenly started to get really dark as you fell. You were sure you were about to faint. The last thing you remember was Jack Abbot's look of concern before your eyes closed.
You woke up n a hospital bed. Unsure of what had happened, you looked around to find Matteo checking your vitals. His face going from serious to worried when he saw you had opened your eyes.
"Should've double checked on you." He whispered. You grabbed his wrist, offering him a small smile.
"Don't worry about it. It's really my fault. Should've eaten something." You shrugged because there was really nothing you could've done now. It already happened and now you just needed to hydrate and eat something. No need for others to feel guilty over something you couldāve prevented. Didnāt need to inconvenience them.
The door opened, and in walked your favorite three musketeers. Dana offered a small smile, Robby offering a sympathetic look, and Jack rounding the bed and sitting down next to you.
"Are you okay? Do you need something? You need food." You watched as Abbot rambled on with the things you needed.
"Yeah, Matteo came running after Jack carried you in here, screaming, 'Work mom fainted.'" She giggled at your 'are you serious' look, you shot the nurse.
"I agree, you need to eat. Listen to the doctor." Robby shrugged, his hands in his sweater pockets.
You lay there as everyone came and went, watching you while you lay down for a bit. Jack left, saying something about bringing you food. They were really being dramatic for a little fainting, you thought.
"Not to be dramatic, but what were you thinking?" It was just you in the room, Jack making his way over back to your bedside after closing the door behind him. A tupperware in hand, soft steam following him from your warmed-up lunch.
"What do you mean, Dr. Abbot?" You sighed happily as you saw the bowl of your lunch, your stomach clearly sharing the same excitement as you both heard it grumble softly. You wasted no time taking the fork and shoveling a mouthful into your face.
"Jack, please. But why do you insist on taking care of everyone else and clearly forgetting the most important person." His tone is not scolding you, but sounding more like a concerned friend. Although he would like to get mad at you for allowing yourself to let it get this far, he wouldn't because you didn't deserve it.
"'Dunno. Figured they needed it more than me."
"Just because they're bad at hiding their needs, doesn't mean you need to completely disregard yours, you know." He gave you a pointed look, as if to silently tell you that you were not winning this argument with him.
"I love that you have a big heart, but you really need to make sure you eat and are well before walking around here til you drop. Literally." You chuckled softly, tucking your head down, taking another well-needed bite of your food. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment that you had literally dropped in the ER at the end of your shift, just because you couldn't bear to see your friends dragging their feet because they were hungry.
You just didn't want to see them suffer, you suppose. Clearly forgetting that you couldn't either. How are patients supposed to be satisfied if you quite literally drop?
"Gotta love the dedication, though, sweetheart. First resident I've ever had who worked til they literally couldn't."
"Oh, that's really embarrassing, but also makes me feel cool. Gotta keep those patient satisfaction scores up somehow, ammiright?" You lulled your head in his direction, an amused look on his face.
"If you wanted to go home early, you could've just said that." He laughed.
"Oh, shut up." You both sat there. He watched as you ate your lunch and drank your freshly refilled water, the full bottle and a half, this time. Before you know it, you were "discharged" as the Pitts patient, and you and Jack walked out side by side.
I have since decided I would now take requests for Pope Cody and Dr. Abbot. The hyperfixation of Shawn Hatosy is real and im in dire need of material to submerse myself into! thanks, request me!! (immediately or watch your back) :)))))
content: 18+ mdni, widow!jack abbot, fake dating, sexually explicit content, age gap, discussions of miscarriage, discussions of surgical miscarriage, discussions of infidelity, dysfunctional family, discussions of divorce, wedding, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, mild violence, some named family members and ex significant other
words: 26.7k
synopsis: when the wedding invitation arrives for your ex husband's marriage to your little sister, you're tempted to set fire to your entire life. your attending, jack abbot, has other ideas.
a/n: i had a blast writing this all the drama all the love all the hurt all the pining!! it's been a while since i wrote something for jack and i'm really happy to be putting this out just in time for dr abbot to be back on our tv screens!! title is based on the song me before you by bleachers. i hope you love it <3 syd (also i know i did not edit this well so i apologize in advance for the typos)
The night had already started off badly enough before you checked the mail. You'd slept through three alarms, stubbed your toe on the dresser in your rush to get dressed, and burnt your coffee all before leaving your apartment. In hindsight, you should have left the overflowing mailbox alone on your way out. You wished you could have foreseen how yanking all the pieces of mail out of the small black box that hung by the door would ruin your whole shift. Would ruin your whole week, really.
Getting into your car, you had tossed the mail into the passenger seat. It wasn't until you were stopped at a light about five minutes away from the hospital that you caught sight of the envelope. Pastel pink bows and your name etched in cursive.
Your heart dropped, eyes glued to the envelope, the rest of your body locking up, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
A horn split the air from behind you and you jerked your head back to the front and saw the green light, "FuckāAlright, alright!"
Your knee shook the entire rest of the way to the hospital and once you were parked, your hands were so shaky as you tried to open the envelope you immediately received a paper cut. But the pain was nothing compared to the agony that you felt ripple through your chest as your eyes traveled over the invitation, gold and pink glitter floating around the car onto your scrubs.
After staring at the piece of cardstock in your hand for too long, you felt your phone vibrate. Blinking rapidly you pulled it out to see a text from Jack Abbot: You good?
Your eyes traveled to the time at the top of your screen to see you were nearly five minutes late to the start of shift. Normally you walked through those doors at least fifteen minutes early. He was clearly showing heroic levels of restraint by waiting until you were several minutes late to contact you.
Sorry, running late. Be there in 5. You texted back hurriedly and were rewarded five seconds later with a thumbs up reaction.
Taking in a shaky breath, you closed out of your messages app to dial your mom.
She picked up after the second ring, "Hey, honey, everything okay? Thought you worked tonight."
"Has Maya lost her fucking mind?"
Your mom was quiet for a few moments, "ā¦So you got the wedding invitation then?"
"I'm not going," You said, angry tears already burning the backs of your eyes, "and to top it all off, she's getting married at the exact fucking venue I wanted to get married at but David and I couldn't afford it at the time. She knew that, she fucking knew it was my dream weddingā"
"I know, baby," your mom said sympathetically, "I don't expect you to come."
"Why would she do this?" You asked, and finally, the anger evaporated from your voice, replaced with the pure devastation, "I mean, she already fucking won, what else does she want? Having my husband and my dream wedding isn't enough for her? She needs to humiliate me in front of everyone we know as well?"
"I don't think she's doing it to hurt you," your mom said quietly, "believe it or not, I think she just wants her big sister at her wedding. She misses you."
You laughed humorlessly, straightening your shoulders in an attempt to rid your body of the despair that now saturated it, "She should have thought about that before she fucked my husband."
Your mother sighed on the other line, "I told her that you'd react like this, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"You think I'm being unreasonable?" You snapped.
"Of course I don't," She said firmly, "and you know that. You know exactly how I feel about this whole thing and so does she. It's a goddamn shame. And if she ever wants to fix things with you she'll probably have to wait until she's divorced or that son of a bitch is dead."
You snorted at that and your mother, normally a perfectly poised saint, rushed in to damage control, "Sorry, I didn't mean that, I actually think his mother's a sweet lady."
You swiped at a tear and sniffled, "Yeah, she is. Thank you for listening to me scream and cry again, but I have to go to work now, I'm late."
"Anytime, kiddo. I love you."
As you hung up, you saw another text from Abbot come in: Come find me when you get here.
You sighed, "shit."
As senior resident, you had a pretty close relationship with your attending. Professionally, anyway. But you being late was out of character for you and Jack Abbot was perceptive. He'd want to get to the bottom of whatever was wrong and no matter how you tried to deflect, you knew he'd persist.
But that wouldn't stop you from trying.
"Hey hun," Lena peered at you over the rim of her glasses as you approached the hub, "you alright?"
"Yeah, just overslept." You forced a smile, "You know where I can find Abbot?"
She directed you over towards the beds in north where you found Abbot discussing a treatment plan with Ellis outside a patient's room. When he saw you, he gestured for you wait a second while he finished up with Ellis. Once she walked off, he gestured for you to follow him.
You fell into step beside him as you walked around the ER, "Everything okay with you?" he asked.
"Yes."
You'd arrived back at the hub and Jack turned fully to you, hazel eyes laser focused on you. You hated this about him, how he demanded your eyes on his at all times so he could properly assess you, as if you were a patient in need of fixing.
"That's it?"
You shrugged, "Yes."
He tilted his head slightly, "In the entire time you've been on my shift, you've never been late. Not even once."
"Yeah," You said, annoyance coating your tone, "which is why you should cut me some slack."
"You're not in trouble," he said mildly, "I'm just checking in. You sure everything's fine?"
You sighed, "Yes."
He stared at you a moment longer before taking an iPad from the docking station, "Okay, fine. Grab a med student and handle chairs."
"Chairs?" Your eyebrows shot up your forehead, "You are pissed at me."
"No," Abbot said shaking his head, eyebrows raised as he looked up from his iPad into your face, "You were late and I need someone to triage and who better than my senior resident?"
You scoffed, and pivoted on your foot, "Unbelievable."
"Call me if you need me," he shouted after you.
"I won't," you called back.
Jack watched you go, wrangling a student by the arm as you went, and then turned back to Lena, "She tell you what her problem is?"
Lena shook her head, "No, she even fake smiled at me when she got here."
He shook his head, "There's definitely a problem though, right? I'm not imagining things?"
"She's been off for weeks now," Lena looked over her glasses at him conspiratorially, "I know you hate the rumor mill, but there is one going around that she got divorced recently. And it wasn't mutual."
He looked up at Lena, incredulous look on his face, "That's ridiculous. She would've told me."
Lena shrugged, "Look, I'm just telling you what I've heard."
Jack turned towards the door to chairs where you had disappeared and frowned. You would have told him, right? The two of you had always been professional, but he did consider you something like a friend after you had been here for nearly four years. When there were social events after work or on days off, you had always gravitated towards him and Robby. A bit older than most of the other residents and students, it was easier to find common ground with them. Things had never gotten overtly personal, but there had always been some level of sharing about personal lives. And he really thought the two of you were close enough that you would have told him. Especially if you were struggling.
"When did that start swirling around?" He asked, turning back to Lena.
"Few months ago, I think," she said, "Jesse said he overheard her take a call with a divorce attorney when he was heading out one day."
Jack ran a hand through his curls and sighed. Jesse wasn't the gossiping type and if he did, that usually meant it was true.
"Okay," he said finally, "you'll come find me if things go to shit?"
"You got it."
***
You could feel yourself slipping as the shift went on, beginning to snap at patients and beginning to snap at the med student you'd pulled, Whitaker, who wasn't even really supposed to be here. He was usually on the day shift, but the usual single med student allotted to the night shift was out on bereavement and Whitaker had volunteered to fill the gap. You liked him, honestly, even if he was a bit spacey at times, he was earnest and never made the same mistake twice.
Except today, when he got you the wrong antibiotics, not once, but twice.
"Whitaker," You said slowly, "am I not speaking clearly?"
"Whaā? IāNoāI mean, yes. You are."
"Then why are these still the wrong meds?"
Whitaker was starting to get flustered and you were getting more and more annoyedā "Because I changed the order."
It was Abbot's voice that came behind you and you turned to see him standing there, arms crossed with that disappointed look on his face you had had the displeasure of encountering just one other time while working on his shift. When you had tried handling an aggressive patient on your own without calling him or security and ended up with a black eye.
"Whitaker, you can finish up here?" Abbot asked, eyes never leaving yours. When Whitaker agreed, Abbot steered you out of the waiting room by your arm back into central.
You wrenched your arm away from him, "You don't need to drag me, I can walk."
"What is going on with you?"
"Nothing," You threw your hands up in exasperation, "I'm irritated that I'm out in triageā"
"You're too good for triage?"
"I know you're doing it to punish meā"
"When have you ever known me to punish anyone?"
"You changed my order, why? You don't even trust me to prescribe simple antibiotics?"
He sighed, "We didn't have the dosage you were looking for up here, it would've taken longer to call the pharmacy and Whitaker was too scared to come back to you empty handed, so I told him to get something else. It had nothing to do with your decision making, though the way you've been treating Whitaker all shift is absolutely unacceptable for a senior resident and you know that."
You never cried at work. It was your one rule. Even crying in the parking lot felt like sacrilege. No matter how fucked up things got, and they'd gotten well and truly fucked, you tucked it away until you got home.
But with Abbot looking at you like this, his judgment heavy as stone, on top of the invitationā¦ It was too much. PTMC had always been your one safe haven from everything, but you had managed to ruin that, too.
Abbot looked at you with alarm when he saw your eyes water and your chin wobble, "Hey, what the hell?" he said softly and then quickly ushered you out to the ambulance bay, shielding you from anyone else's prying eyes.
"I'm sorry," you blubbered after you'd gone through the double doors, "I have to apologize to Whitaker."
"Not now, later."
You leaned against the wall of the hospital and scrubbed your hands over your face, "I was so mean to him all shift."
"I know, he told me," At the look you gave him through your hands Abbot shook his head, "Not to get you in trouble, he was worried about you. Said you weren't acting like yourself. And I have to agree, you're normally a very kind and patient teacher."
His praiseāwhich you felt was undeservedāmade you want to cry all over again, but you managed to swallow past the lump in your throat. Abbot leaned up against the wall next to you and pushed his hands into his pants pockets, "So, I'll ask you again: What is going on with you?"
You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, fought the urge to self soothe by wrapping your arms entirely around yourself, "You won't let it go unless I tell you, right?"
"Damn straight," He said immediately, "We can keep it between us, but it's starting to effect your work now, so I'd like to know what's going on. And maybe I can help."
You scoffed and looked down at your feet, "No one knows besides my family and that's only because I had no choice," You swallowed, "It's humiliating. You might look at me differently."
He narrowed his eyes at you, "If you really don't want to tell me I won't force you. But I promise there's very little you could say that would make me think less of you."
You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall. You weren't sure why it even mattered to you what your attending thought of your personal life. Despite your borderline friendly relationship with Abbot, there had still always been the irrepressible urge to impress him, to make sure he both liked and respected you. Probably had something to do with your absent father, but that was something to unpack in therapy.
"I got my baby sister's wedding invitation in the mail today," You said slowly, could already feel the heat bubbling beneath your skin, "And the man she's marrying is myā¦ ex husband."
You felt the double take that came from his direction, but you couldn't find it in yourself to meet his eyes.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he cleared his throat, "IāI didn't know you got divorced."
You nodded, "Finding out they were having a year long affair was a hell of a motivator to get it done quickly and quietly."
"Fuck," he murmured under his breath, "When did all this happen?"
You chewed the inside of your cheek, "They started sleeping together while I was recovering from the miscarriage."
You thought you heard his sharp intake of breath at that, but you still couldn't look over at him. The miscarriage had happened almost two years ago now and marked the beginning of your life turning upside down.
You had lost a pregnancy you didn't even know had been in your womb. Fighting with David as he drove you home in stony silence while you cried about how you couldn't understand why he was acting this way, you'd always said you didn't want kids.
How when the bleeding didn't stop, didn't slow the way it was supposed to, and you told David you needed to go back to the hospital heāthe lawyerāsomehow convinced youāthe doctorāthat you weren't bleeding that much. You thought about this moment almost daily, now. You felt so stupid for letting him debate his way out of taking you to PTMC. It had taken you hours to finally text Abbot, feeling lightheaded from the blood loss, if he thought you should come in.
He had left the hospital to come get you and you remembered his quiet anger as he condescended to David while carrying you to his truck.
In the end, surgical intervention had been required to stop the bleeding and when you woke up to David beside himself with remorse beside you, you'd forgiven him.
And yet, you'd find out much later that while you recovered from surgery, he began sleeping with Maya.
"Well," Abbot said after a few moments of shocked silence, "Knowing that you've been holding all that in forā¦ months now, I'd say you've actually shown remarkable restraint."
You huffed a laugh through your nose, "You think so?"
"Yeah, I do. If I were you they'd probably both be six feet under by now."
You hummed, "I considered it when I opened the invitation today."
"Why don't you go home?" He said quietly and you finally turned to look at him, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight, "We can handle the rest of the shift without you."
You shook your head, "I feel worse when I'm not working. I'm still not used to going home to an empty apartment."
At that moment Lena poked her head out into the ambulance bay, charge phone pressed to her ear, "Incoming MVA, five minutes out."
You both pushed yourselves off the wall to head back inside, "Hey," he said, fingertips ghosting over your wrist as you walked ahead of him, "if you won't go home, will you get breakfast with me after shift?"
You bit your lip as you looked back at him, "I'm okay. Really. You don't have to babysit me."
He shook his head, "No, I'm asking for me. You wouldn't make an old man eat by himself, would you?"
He had that easy smirk on his face as he followed you inside, helped tie your trauma gown at the base of your neck. Your stomach flipped the way it sometimes did when he showed you too much attention. You had always dismissed it as a silly crush, the cliche daddy issues you couldn't quite shake even in adulthood.
"Okay," you said finally, turning back to face him as sirens called in the distance, "fine, I'll get breakfast with you."
His grin widened, "Atta girl."
And then he was darting back outside to meet the ambulance, oblivious to the way your cheeks heated and your heart fluttered in response.
***
The only thought in your head as you sat across the diner table from Jack Abbot and the waitress poured you a cup of coffee was that your lips were chapped and you'd been picking at them all shift.
After the waitress took your order and walked off, Jack's eyes traced your face and watched as you chewed on your lower lip, "Stop that," he said softly, "You've been tearing your lips up all day."
Embarrassed, you pressed your lips together and clasped your hands in your lap, "Sorry."
He frowned, "What was that?"
"What?"
"Did you just apologize to me?"
The corner of your mouth tugged up just slightly, "Don't act like you've never heard an apology before."
"I have," he smirked, "just not from you. Now I've heard you say it twice in one day."
You rolled your eyes, "Oh, that is not true."
The waitress returned with your food and after thanking her, Jack speared a homefry into his mouth before turning his attention back to you, "So," he said, "What're you gonna do?"
You frowned, swallowing the eggs you'd spooned into your mouth, "About what?"
"Your sister's wedding."
You shrugged, "Nothing. She knows how I feel, it was fucked up of her to even invite me. I'm not even gonna RSVP."
His eyebrows knitted together, "What d'you mean? You're not gonna go?"
You snorted, "A weekend full of watching my baby sister and ex husband celebrate their love and solidify their union in the place I dreamed and gushed about getting married at myself to my sister for years?" You shook your head, "No thank you. I'm not a masochist. I'll probably spend the weekend with several bottles of wine on my couch watching Vanderpump Rules."
Jack balked, his head pulling back in that way it did sometimes when he was passing judgment on someone. You'd seen him direct it at patients, other students, occasionally Robby, but never you.
"If you don't go, they win."
You sighed, "Oh, come on, Abbot. They already won."
He shook his head, "No. They're shackling themselves in a relationship built on lies and betrayal. They've lost. And seeing you happier than ever at their wedding would be great revenge."
"Yeah, well there's only one problem with that," You stole a homefry from his plate and stuffed it in your mouth, "I'm miserable."
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes assessing you, "Do you have a plus one on your invitation?"
You blinked, "Why are you asking me that?"
He cleared his throat and rested his forearms on the table and leaned toward you conspiratorially, "I just think that even if you don't feel it, think about how much it would bother them to see you show up with someone else. Happy."
Was he delusional? You narrowed your eyes at him, and in turn leaned forward towards him, "My dating life is abysmal right now. So, pray tell, who is this imaginary knight in shining armor who's going to accompany me?"
Still smirking, he leaned back in his seat and shrugged, "I'd do it."
You nearly choked on your coffee. Once you'd caught your breath, you felt your eyes nearly bulging out of your head, "What, pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend? Make them think we're in love? Why would you agree to that?"
He shrugged, "You're my best resident and I'm tired of seeing you off your game. And I already told you, I want to help."
You hummed, "By forcing me into my worst nightmare?" You nodded, "Yeah, solid plan. What could possibly go wrong?"
He sighed, "Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but I think you should consider that this mightā¦ Give you closure. And it won't hurt to get in a few shots yourself by bringing me along."
You narrowed your eyes at him for a few moments before laughing quietly, "This is insane."
"Well justā¦Just think about it before you say no, okay?"
You raised your eyebrows at him skeptically, but he was still smirking, "Okay. But don't hold your breath."
After you'd both finished your food, Jack paid despite your insistent attempts to slip your card to the waitress and drove you home.
"I left my car at the hospital."
He shrugged, "I can give you a ride in tonight."
As he pulled up to your house and put his car in park, he leaned over and squeezed your knee lightly, prompting you to look at him, "You'll get some sleep, right?"
Doubtful, you thought, but you nodded, "Yeah, of course."
His eyes narrowed and he held out a clenched hand, pinky outstretched towards you, "Promise?"
You snorted, "Seriously?"
He raised his eyebrows, pinky still held out insistently. So, sighing, you wrapped your pinky around his, "Promise."
Jack smiled and released your finger, "Get out of here then. I'll be back here at 6:30."
"Yes sir," You mocked, and jumped out of the car before he could give a snarky reply.
You wouldn't tell him, but spending time with him had done wonders for your mood. You were even considering taking him up on his offer to come with you to the wedding.
But surely, that was a disaster waiting to happen.
"I think that's a great idea!" Your mom said enthusiastically over the phone an hour later.
Your black out curtains were pulled down tight over the windows, shuttering your bedroom in darkness. You likely wouldn't sleep much, but you would still try. The only light a dim glow from your phone.
You scoffed, "You think it's a great idea to pretend to be in love with my boss at my ex's wedding?"
"I've been saying for months that you let them off too easy. And David's always asking me if you're seeing anyone. Possessive little fuck."
"Momā"
"āSorry, sorry. He really gets under my skin. I met Dr. Abbot, didn't I?"
"Yeah," You said, rubbing a hand over your eyes, "When I miscarried."
"He seemed nice. Handsome."
You sighed, "He's just being nice. And also, I've apparently been doing a really shitty job at work and he thinks this'll help."
Your mom hummed, "Sure, sweetie."
Already once before at your bedside after your miscarriage, your mom had implied that she believed Dr. Abbot looked at you as more than just a resident, "I'm not saying it's romantic," She had said at the time, when you had still been married to David, "I just thinkā¦ He sees you as a person outside of all this." She had gestured around the emergency room.
Now, it seemed, she had changed her tune.
You looked at the watch on your wrist, illuminated in the dark to see that it was nearly noon. If you had any hope of sleep, you'd have to try soon. You said your goodbyes to your mom, and to your surprise, sleep came easyā¦ along with dreams of freckled arms and a face with gray stubble, smirking at you slow and sweet like molasses.
***
You climbed into Jack's truck that evening, immediately engulfed by the hum of his heater, the warmth cocooning you away from the harsh winter air. You let him drive in silence, his radio quietly playing, tuned to the classic rock station.
When you pulled up to the hospital, the two of you walking side by side inside and then by the lockers, "Steak, chicken, or fish?"
You felt it when his head slowly turned towards you, eyes assessing as he draped his stethoscope over his neck, "Steak," he said finally and you could hear the smile in his voice.
You chewed the inside of your cheek as you closed the locker and turned to face him, "You understand that this is a whole weekend affair, right? It's in upstate New York. If you come you have to stick it out the whole weekend. We'll have to share a roomāmaybe even a bedā"
"You think I didn't already think of all this?"
He was soā¦unbothered. It didn't make any sense to you. That he would do all of this for you.
You ignored his questionāOf course you knew he had, you knew how over prepared Abbot was for every scenario no matter how unlikelyāBut you thought at the very least you'd detect some discomfort, some acknowledgement that it might not be so easy. "What about the fact that I'm your resident? You're not worried about how this could effect our professional relationship?"
He shrugged, "You only have a few months left and it's not like we've ever had a normal working relationship."
You were reminded of your miscarriage. You couldn't remember everything, the blood loss had muddled some things, but you did recall the way his voice rose when speaking to David, insisting he wouldn't leave until he saw you. The way he'd so easily slipped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Then last year when you had noticed Abbot limping around the ED and trying to hide grimaces a bit too much, you were the only one he'd admit to that he was in pain. The only one he'd listen to when you demanded to take a look at his prothestic. You didn't scold him when you saw the blood and pressure sores. Just gently cleaned and bandaged them, asked him if he'd been fitted for a new socket yet since this one was obviously causing problems. It was you who gently followed up with him day after day until it healed. You were the only one he allowed that close.
He was your teacher, your boss, but the two of you had always had something a bit deeper, a bit more intimate, that you each always tried to brush off. But now, here Jack was, declaring it openly.
You swallowed and broke eye contact, "You should know that after I found out he was having an affair and with whoā¦ He tried to deflect. He brought you up, accused me of sleeping with youā"
"That's ridiculous," Jack said, sounding irritated.
"I know," You said quickly, "I'm just telling you becauseā¦ If you show up to this wedding as my date, if we're pretending that we're in love, he'll probably see it as vindication that he was right. He'll probably act like it absolves him of any wrong doing."
He nodded, "Will that be a problem for you?"
You raised your eyebrows, "For me? No. Personally, I hope it eats him alive thinking I cheated on him." You shook your head, "No, I just want you to understand what it is you're signing up for. It mightā¦ put a target on your back."
The two of you were at the hub now and Jack chuckled as he picked up an iPad, "I'm not afraid of David. He's a fucking coward and he's always punched down," He raised his eyes to you and added quickly, "no offense."
You dismissed him with a shake of your head, "None taken. So it's settled then. We're going."
He nodded, a smile on his face, and reached out his pinky towards you again, "It's a date."
You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped and your heart rate likely doubled when you wrapped your pinky around his, hazel eyes soft and gentle on yours. The moment passed quickly and then he released you, off to find Robby to start hand offs.
***
As the weeks passed and the snow thawed you were beginning to wonder what you had gotten yourself into. Your sister had texted you when you RSVP'd as if everything was fine now, saying she was so excited to see you and who were you bringing she wanted to see pics was he hot how long had you been seeing each other? She wanted to gossip with you as if nothing had transpired since the last time you talked to her, probably a year ago now. As if the last time you saw her you hadn't told her that she was no longer your sister as far as you were concerned.
You had ignored each text, telling your mom everytime you spoke to her to ask Maya to stop texting you. That just because you were coming to the wedding didn't mean all was forgiven.
"It doesn't matter what I say to her baby, she has her heart set on the fact that you coming means you're ready to be her big sister again. She won't stop talking about it."
It made you both angry and incredibly sad that Maya was naive enough to believe that you could just forgive and forget like that. You had meant what you said about her no longer being your sister. Truthfully, you still felt like you never wanted to speak to her ever again.
"And what does your husband think?" You asked as carefully as you could. It was something you had wanted to ask for a long while, what your stepfather thought of the whole thing. He had been the only father you'd ever really known after your biological father cheated on your mother and skipped town. He was Maya's biological father, but he had always treated you as his ownāgranted, you knew your mother wouldn't have accepted anything else. But when all this happened, you had assumed you'd lose him. After all, Maya was his real daughter.
"He understands why you need your distance, even though he hates seeing you girls fight. I've caught him more than once digging up old home videos of the two of you playing dress up or putting on plays. He misses you."
Your eyes had watered and you made a mental note to text him after, "I wish it didn't have to be like this." You'd said softly, and meant it.
But you didn't know how to be in the same room with Maya and David and not have a world ending meltdown. And you were realizing as the wedding drew closer and closer that maybe you were making a colossal mistake.
Which was how you ended up paralyzed staring at your half packed suitcase the day you were set to leave while Abbot repeatedly beeped from his truck outside.
You had left the door unlocked, so eventually after you ignored phone call after phone call and didn't come to the door, he made his way inside, calling your name.
When he walked in your bedroom and saw you, he breathed a sigh of relief, "Christ, I thought I was gonna walk in here to see you fuckin' passed out or something. What's going on?"
You chewed on your thumbnail and then shook your head frantically, "IāI can't do this. I'm not going."
"Yes you can and yes you are."
"Abbotā"
"I think it's time you start calling me Jack if you want to convince people we're dating."
You sighed and looked up at him, panic fluttering around in your chest like a trapped bird, "This is a bad idea," You whispered.
He shook his head, "If nothing else you and I are gonna have a really fun weekend away from the ER, alright? When was the last time you skipped town?"
You rolled your eyes, "This isn't exactly my idea of a vacation."
He feigned offense with a hand to his chest, "You're not excited to spend a whole weekend with me upstate?"
Despite the impending panic attack you felt brewing, you tried to banter back, "Bringing you to my ex husband's wedding wasn't exactly how I envisioned our first date, no."
You were pleased to see his grin widen, "So you've been dreaming about our first date, then?"
You rolled your eyes again and started throwing more clothes haphazardly into your suitcase, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. Ignoring how easy it was to play with him, how quickly it soothed you. With his voice in your ear, you thought maybe it'd be almost tolerable getting through this weekend. Almost.
"Shut up and help me close my suitcase."
***
As Jack pulled away from your apartment, you turned around to look in the back seat. It was filled nearly to the brim with duffel bags, first aid kits, bandages, emergency food kits, warming blanketsā
"Do you know something about this weekend that I don't?" You asked as you took in all the supplies.
He shrugged, "It's always good to be prepared. Besides, do you know how many weddings I've been to where at least one drunk idiot injured themselves or someone else and needed a doctor?"
You would not admit to him how endearingāor sexyāyou found it that he had overprepared like this. You turned back towards the front, "Fair enough."
After a few minutes of riding in silence, he cleared his throat, "So, what should I know? About fake dating you?"
You fought a smirk, "I don't think there's much to know. You know me already. Besides, I doubt we'll be spending much time with anyone who'd be able to spot it since I'll be avoiding Maya and David like the plague."
He frowned, "What about your parents?"
"Oh, my mom and step dad know we're not actually dating."
His head turned towards you, "So they know this is actually just a revenge tour?"
You nodded, "Yep."
"And they'reā¦ Fine with that?"
You chewed the inside of your cheek, "I think secretly they're hoping being in the same room with Maya willā¦ help repair our relationship. Or something."
Jack scoffed, "They don't honestly expect you to forgive her, do they?"
"I don't think my mom does, no. My father cheated on her when I was really little and left us. So sheā¦ Knows how I'm feeling."
He paused, "I'm sorry, that must've been really hard on you as a kid."
You stared out the window, chewed on your thumbnail as trees blurred past your window, "I used to think, when I was a kid, that I'd never be like my mom. I saw howā¦ hurt she was and I promised myself I'd never pick a man like my father. And David wasn't anything like my father. He was ambitious, kind, funny, romanticā¦" Your eyes watered, "He took care of me until he didn't. So maybe it's me, maybe I'm the problem. Maybe I was just doomed to repeat generational patterns by virtue of being my mother's daughter."
After a moment, Jack gave what sounded like an almost pained groan, "Don't do that."
"What?"
"Let him off the hook like that and put the blame back on yourself. He fucked up. Not you."
You knew there was no sense in arguing with him, convincing him that you must've done something to cause him to stray. To look to someone who was so much like you, but younger and less damaged. He could've picked anyone to cheat with, but he fell in love with your baby sister. The same sister you had cared for so vigilantly to make sure she avoided the missteps you took. So that she wouldn't have twin scars to match yours. Practically made in your image, except she was less damaged. How could you get Jack to understand what that felt like? How could you not blame yourself?
So you didn't say anything. You let the silence fall instead and tried your best to keep your sniffling to a minimum. After a few minutes Jack reached across the cabin and gently took your hand in his own.
***
A few hours and many gas station stops later, Jack pulled into the parking lot of the hotel you were staying at. You hopped out of the car first and he watched you from the rearview mirror for a few minutes before following suit.
You were so sad and quiet on the ride up he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake, convincing you to come here. But he couldn't stand the thought of you moping at home, building this wedding up in your head to be more than it was. Obviously, you had every right to be upset. Frankly, if you came to him and said you wanted to burn the whole place to the ground, he'd start googling where he could find kerosene nearby.
What he didn't want was you deciding that this wedding marked the end of your life when really, he thought it was probably liberating you. He wished he had known when you were getting divorced because he would've thrown you a party. He would never suggest that you were lucky for the way things had played out, but he was relieved on your behalf that it had all happened so early in your marriage, in your life. You had so much left of it. He wanted you to see that, that it was possible to be happy again even after your whole world had imploded as violently as it did.
He hated that you had so much shame wrapped up in the dissolution of your marriage when that fucker was the one the blame. It was horrible enough he had chosen your little sister, but the timing of it, right after your miscarriage, made his fucking blood boil. When you needed him the most he was busy warming your sister's bed. It made him sick with rage. And then to hear you blame yourself on top of it all? It was too much. Jack thought it would be a miracle if he made it through this weekend without punching the coward's lights out.
And then, to top it all off, he wondered if he had an ulterior motive for all this. That maybe he was so eager to play the part of your boyfriend because he really did want to be your boyfriend. It wasn't a novel thought, he had wondered to himself many times before if the reason he allowed you to get so close when he had historically pushed everyone else away, especially after his wife, was because he was harboring feelings for you. He had never been able to answer the question. Or maybe he was just too afraid to be honest with himself about it. For a while he had told himself it didn't matter how he felt about it because you were married. But nowā¦Well, things had changed.
He settled his hands on your hips when he came up behind you as you were beginning to unpack the bags from the back seat, "We should probably set some ground rules before this goes any further."
You spun around, his hands still on your hips. You didn't seem bothered by his closeness, "What d'you mean?"
"Well," Jack started, feeling the heat begin to crawl up his neck at having this conversation while standing this close to you. His leg was beginning to ache from driving with the prosthetic all day and he leaned into the pain in an attempt to ground himself, "I'm a very physically affectionate man when I'm in a relationship. So, if you're uncomfortable with that, we should talk about it."
He watched the bob of your throat as you swallowed, "That's fine."
Jack hummed and looped his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans and gently pulled until your hips were pushed up against his, "Maybe we should have a safe word."
"A safe word?" Was it his imagination that you sounded a bit breathless? You had only been here a few minutes and he was already in danger of crossing the line.
He nodded and bit his lip, "Yeah, so I know if I need to back off."
"That soundsā¦ Like a good idea. Very mature."
"You pick, what's our safe word?" While walking around to you at the side of the truck, he had noticed what looked like a couple standing by the entrance of the hotel, watching. It could have been Maya and David, it could have been anyone. But on the off chance it was someone you knew, he wanted to make sure he was playing his part well. At least, that's what he told himself he was doing when he nudged his nose gently against yours.
He thought he felt you gasp against his mouth and it was taking almost everything he had not to kiss you.
"Troponin." You said, and he blinked. Confusion clouding his features.
"Troponin?" He repeated, eyebrows knitting together. He wondered if he had heard you correctly. He was this close to you, close enough to devour you, and you were thinking about a STEMI?
"Our safe word," You said and licked your lips. His eyes trailed the path of your tongue hungrily.
"You want our safe word to be troponin?" When you nodded he smiled, "Okay, troponin it is," he pressed a kiss to the bridge of your nose and then backed away slightly, "In the spirit of total transparency, I do think we have an audience."
He almost wished he hadn't told you. You had relaxed so much under his touch and he watched the tension return to your shoulders as you peered around, trying to locate the possible enemy.
But then when you saw them, beginning to walk towards you, your shoulders drooped, "It's just my mom and stepdad."
Jack watched a few steps away as your mother pulled you into a tight hug, your step dad watching with a bemused smile on his face and hands in his pockets. You looked so much like your mother. He remembered thinking it the first time he'd met her after your miscarriage and it still held true. She talked like you too, or rather, you talked like her. The same mannerisms and same lilt to your voices, the same warm laugh. If he closed his eyes, he might have a hard time telling you apart.
"Mom, you remember Jack."
He shook your mother's hand in both of his, murmured that it was good to see her again.
"And you, Dr. Abbot. Thank you for looking out for her, even outside of the emergency room."
"My pleasure, but call me Jack, please."
You introduced him to your step dad who seemed to be a reserved man of few words, but friendly enough.
"Well the two of you must've had a long drive so I'll let you get settled, butā" Your mom turned to look at you pointedly, "āWe knew you were here because Maya knew you were here so I wouldn't be surprised if she shows up at your hotel room unannounced."
You frowned, "How did she know I was here?"
"Well," Your mom sighed, "It would seem that you never stopped sharing your location with her on your phone."
You groaned and clawed your phone from your pocket, "Oh, Jesus fuckā"
Your stepdad winced, "Language, please."
"I don't want to see her." You said, hands shaking as you unlocked your phone, undoubtedly trying to quickly stop sharing your location, "Can you please tell her I don't want to see her right now? I'm notā" Your voice sounded close to breaking, "Please, I'm not ready to see her."
Jack's hands itched to reach for you, but he clasped them behind his back instead. As far as your parents were concerned the two of you were not really dating, he was just here as a friend. He didn't want to make anything more complicated for you. But still, he felt like you were still in the ED, and thus his responsibility. He wanted to fix it.
"We'll tell her," your stepdad said softly, "But it's her wedding, you'll have to talk to her eventuallyā"
"I know that," you snapped, then immediately softened, "Sorry, IāIt's been a long day. I'll talk to her, I promise. Just not today."
The three of them began hushed conversations that were becoming more and more strained. You had downplayed to him what your stepdad was hoping for, he thought now. You had been here only a few minutes and he was already laying into you about how "that's your sister" and "you're her big sister you should be the bigger person" and "you can't ignore her forever."
You absolutely could, if that was what you wanted. And Jack understood the man's stake in it. It had to hurt watching the girls you raised become estranged. But had he sat his other daughter down and explained to her the consequences of breaking your trust like that? Of betraying you like that? It sounded like the two of you had been close, best friends. Not only did she sleep with your husband, but her actions had resulted in you losing your best friend. You had a traumatic surgery and you ended up cheated on and divorced within a year and you hadn't been able to talk to your best friend about it. It was cruel to now ask you to be the bigger person.
Jack began walking back towards the back of the truck so he could continue unloading your baggage, heavily favoring his right leg. He was in a decent amount of pain, but he may have been playing it up soā
"Jack, is your leg bothering you?"
You were by his side in a moment, taking bags he had unloaded and carrying them on your shoulder.
"I'm fine," he said, "Just a little sore from driving all day." You started rummaging through his back seat, "What're you looking for?"
"Your cane or crutches or somethingā"
He scoffed and gently pulled you from the car, "They're in my duffel, I don't need them right now."
"Butā"
"Sweetheartā" Your mother interrupted, "Your dad and I are gonna go, we'll see you at breakfast?"
You nodded and quickly hugged them goodbye and Jack felt immediate relief at their absence. They were nice enough people, especially your mother who he could tell was more on your side about the whole thing, but they were still being too hard on you in his opinion.
Once inside the room, Jack sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his prosthetic with a soft groan. He didn't look up, but he felt you watching him, knew you were trying to think of some way to help.
"Can I get you anything?" You asked finally.
He shook his head, massaging his limb gently, "No, I'll be fine after a hot shower and working some lotion into my leg."
"Oh, that reminds meā" You walked off towards the bathroom and then returned a few seconds later, "āGood, they remembered. I called a few days ago to ask them to put a shower chair in here. Just wanted to check so I could call down if they forgot."
Jack blinked, "Well, that wasā¦ Very thoughtful of you, thank you."
"Least I can do," You sighed, "After the ledges you're sure to talk me down from this weekend."
Digging into your pocket, you pulled out an unopened pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter.
"What the fuck?" Jack laughed, "You don't smoke."
"I know, I thought it was a great weekend to startāHey!"
Jack had snatched them from you before you had the chance to unwrap them, "Do you know how fuckin' hard it is to kick a nicotine addiction? Do you?"
You sighed, "You're really gonna lecture me about this?"
"Yeah, I absolutely am. I'm not gonna watch you be self destructive all weekend. That's not why we're here. It's so you can see how better off you are."
You pushed your lower lip out into a pout, "You don't think I deserve a cigarette in this situation?"
Fuck, why'd you have to go and do that? It was unfair. Now all he could think about was your lower lip between his teethā He could not let you know how easily you could wrap him around your finger. Clearing his throat, he pushed the packet of cigarettes into his pocket, "You take the shower first, you'll feel better after. I'm going to hide these while you're in the bathroom."
You looked for a moment like you might argue, but then your eye caught on what looked like a welcome basket on the dresser, filled with snacks andāwine, "Fine. Have the cigarettes. But I will be opening the wine after I get out of the shower."
Jack fought a smirk, "Only if you let me order us some room service. You've eaten nothing but jerky and Red Bull all day."
You glared at him from where you stood, arms crossed over your chest before turning on your heel towards the bathroom, "Fine, fine. Whatever. But only because I'm starving, not because I think you're right."
He watched as you sauntered into the bathroom, holding your bag of toiletries and a change of clothes. Then, with a sigh, he laid down flat on the bed.
"Abbot, you are so fucked," he murmured to himself. Then he propped himself up and reached for the phone on the nightstand.
***
Troponin. Troponin. It was so stupid, that that had been the only word you could think of.
A safe word. The very implication meaning that there could be a scenario where Jack Abbot could touch you and you wouldn't like it. Absolutely absurd.
No, the only real, looming danger of this weekend was that Jack Abbot would touch you and you would like it too much. You didn't think he knew it yet, but Jack had the power to break your heart even more than it already had been. You were afraid of him, but not for reasons he'd understand.
Jack was sound asleep next to you, snoring softly. The moonlight that spilled through the balcony doors lit up his watch enough that you could see it was a bit past 3:20 AM.
There hadn't been much back and forth about sharing the bed. Jack had said when you got out of the shower that he didn't mind calling and asking for a cot, but you had waved him off. Besides which, if you were going to be convincing that you were actually a couple, on the chance that your sister stopped by unnanounced you didn't want her seeing you were sleeping separately.
So you had each climbed into opposite sides of the bed, bid each other goodnight, and that was that.
Between being a night owl by default and the number of Red Bulls you'd had that day, sleep wasn't an option for you. You would've been surprised that Jack was able to sleep at all, both of you accustomed to working through the night, if you didn't also know he had a prescription for his insomnia.
So it was just you wide awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about troponin. A protein used to detect heart damage. Faced with the impossibility of the weekend, seeing both your ex and your little sister for the first time since you found out about their affair, all with your attending by your side, pretending to be in love with you, you thought it likely you might end this weekend with an abnormal troponin reading.
That's ridiculous, he had said when you told him David had accused you of sleeping with him. And while it may have seemed ridiculous to him, you understood why David had thought it. The hero worship was likely blatant in your voice and on your face whenever you talked about him.
You turned your head to the side and looked at Jack's sleeping face. Peaceful, wrinkles smoothed out. His silver stubble glinted in the moonlight. You liked when he grew it out like this, just a little bit.
You would never admit you were in love with him, but weren't you, just a little bit?
You blew out a long breath and turned your face back towards the ceiling. It was going to be a long weekend.
***
"I feel like I'm gonna be sick."
Jack turned to look at you as you said it. You were walking to the welcome breakfast, which was being held at the venue. It was a winery draped in greenery and curtained by trees. The couple would be married in the garden that overlooked the pond outside.
"Do you need to sit down?"
You shook your head and stopped walking, "I feel like there's a boulder on my chest," your breathing quickened and you brought your fist to your sternum, rubbing clockwise, as if it would free the pressure.
Jack stepped in fromt of you and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, left hand sliding below your jaw to your neck so he could feel your carotid. Your pulse jackhammered against his fingers and sweat glistened on your forehead and upper lip.
"Panic attack?" He asked softly and you nodded, "We don't have to go in right away, we can be late. Take a lap around the pond."
You shook your head, "No, no Maya's in the door she's watching us. I don't wantāAh, fuck David's there too."
"Hey, look at me," Your eyes darted to his and he shook his head, "Don't look at him. What d'you wanna do?"
"Well I want to go home, but that's not happening."
Jack smiled, "Okay, let me rephrase that, what do you need to get yourself in there?"
Your chin was wobbling as you looked at him and you shook your head slightly, "I don't know, I don'tā" Your eyes trailed over his shoulder.
Jack angled himself in order to block your view, "Heyā" Your eyes met his again, wet and frantic, "It's just you and me right now. They're not as scary as you think they are. You've built them up to be these scary monsters in your head and what they did to you was monstrous, but they're still just people. They should be afraid of you. Do you want to piss them off?"
Finally, your lip curled up the tiniest bit, "Yeah."
"Great. What should we do then? What would piss them off?"
You bit down on your lip gently and tilted your head. You seemed a bit shy, a feeling he wasn't used to seeing on you.
"Could you kiss me, you think?"
Immediately, Jack felt heat spread through his chest. He smirked, hoping he looked more nonchalant than he felt, "Are they watching still?"
Your eyes darted over his shoulder and then you nodded.
Hands still on your cheeks, he moved one hand to cup the back of your neck and gently pull you to him. His heart raced as he tasted you, slowly explored your mouth, relished in the way it felt for your lips to move against his.
It took enormous effort for him to pull away from you, but he managed it. Your pupils were blown out and you seemed a bit breathless, but he wasn't sure if he was just seeing what he wanted to see. You had only asked him to kiss you to make your ex jealous, he reminded himself.
"What do you think? Did it work?"
You peered over Jack's shoulder and nodded, "David stormed off. Maya's still there."
Jack hummed, running his fingers over your cheeks one last time before dropping them, "She probably wants to talk to you. Are you ready?"
You inhaled, slow and deep, "Will you hold my hand?"
Jack felt himself melt. He thought there was little he wouldn't do for you, "Of course," he slipped his hand into yours, ran his thumb over the soft skin on the back of your hand, "Remember, you've done nothing wrong. They should be afraid of you."
You kept pace with him, the venue looming ever closer in front of you, "Right."
Jack squeezed your hand reassuringly as you approached your sister, and shit, did your mother have strong genes. Even only being half sisters, the two of you were nearly identical, though there were obvious differences to Jack. Your sister was perfectly manicured, nails done, lips glossed. She obviously had some sort of workout regimen if her toned arms and legs were any indication. Likely pilates, he thought.
Obviously, Jack found you gorgeous. He knew your bitten down nails and often chapped lips were a symptom of the jobāLong, manicured nails often led to broken gloves and who had time to constantly reapply chapstick in the ER?āBut there was something to the two sisters standing side by side. He could see the stress and heartbreak of the last year on you whereas your sister looked nonplussed. Whether that was just an image she wished to project on her wedding weekend or if she really felt no remorse, he wasn't sure.
But he wasn't in the mood to give her the benefit of the doubt. He disliked her instantly on principal.
Her throat bobbed as you approached. You came to a stop, a roughly three foot buffer between you. The two of you seemed unsure what to do next, staring at each other, both of you glassy eyed.
And then, without warning, Maya threw her arms around your neck. For a moment, you froze, and then you released Jack's hand, slowly easing your arms around her. He watched your face crumple just slightly, half hidden by Maya's shoulder.
"I'm so happy you came," Maya said, and Jack had to strain to hear it, her voice muffled by your shoulder, "I couldn't imagine getting married without you here."
You didn't say anything at all, but you kept holding her, that bereft look in your eyes.
Maya pulled away, a smile on her face, though tears began to cascade over her lash line. Then she turned to Jack, "And Dr. Abbot, I'm glad you're here too. You know, I always said there was something more between the two of you, the way she always talked about you."
You were despondent, eyes aimless as you stared at nothing. Jack turned his attention to Maya and he didn't smile, "It wasn't like that."
Her mouth fell open, maybe realizing her mistake, the implication, "OhāOh nāno, of course notā"
"Jack," you said softly, "save me a seat inside?"
He knew he had just got done telling you they weren't monsters, but he was ready to take it back. He didn't want to leave you alone with her. He had encouraged you to come here and now he thought maybe he'd been wrong.
But he nodded anyway, walked into the venue with his hands clasped behind his back. You weren't his. He kept forgetting that. He was acting like a fucking guard dog and you weren't even his to defend.
It was barely 10 AM and Jack strode over to the bar.
***
"I really am so happy you're here. Mom said you wouldn't come, but I knew you wouldā And this place! Isn't it gorgeous?"
Maya babbled on and on while you feltā¦ Empty. She was discussing wedding planning with you as if nothing had changed. You remembered sitting with her on your living room floor after you'd gotten engaged, scrap booking your dream wedding.
You wished you could dig up that scrap book now because while you had had to settle and compromise on most things, it seemed that she had gotten everything.
The venue, the welcome breakfast in the tearoom, the open barā You bet from the floral centerpieces on each table that she'd even gotten the same florist.
You had ended up getting married in a courthouse with a small dinner party afterwards. It was all you'd been able to afford between law school and med school.
Still, it had been the happiest day of your life because you loved him. You would have done anything for him.
And now you saw that same pure giddiness on your sister's face.
"Look, Maya, I don'tāThe last time we talked, I'm sorry I was so harsh, but I meant what I said. I'm not here to make amends."
She stared at you, almost disbelieving as the happiness began the melt off her face. You almost felt guilty, "Then why are you here?" She asked, bitterness slipping into her voice.
"I don't know. To get closure." You shook your head, "Maybe there's also a small part of me that thinks I can convince you not to go through with it."
Without hesitation, Maya stepped away from you, "I've had this conversation with mom already several times. Just because he wasn't good for you doesn't mean he's not good for me."
You tilted your head slightly and felt the tears burn the backs of your eyes, "You think you're the exception to how he treated me? Did you know you weren't the first woman he stepped out on me with? You were just the final straw."
She was shaking her head rapidly, "No, no, that's not true. He left you. He saidāHe said you wanted to make things work afterā¦ After you found out, but he wanted to be with me."
Your breath shook, "Well he lied to you. I told him that same day I found out that I was calling an attorney and he got down on hands and knees and begged me to stayā"
"You're lying!"
"āAsk mom! I stayed with her and dad that night, she sat next to me when I called the lawyer."
Maya shook her head, "Mom has not been subtle about how she feels about everything. She's just as bad as you, trying to convince me to leave himā"
"That's because we both know how it feels to love a man like David and we're trying to spare you from thatā"
"I'm not a fucking child!" Her voice came out shrill and startled the couple that happened to be walking by at the time. But Maya, always perfect, flashed a perfect smile at them and recomposed herself before turning back to you, "I know it's difficult for both you and Mom to believe but I'm happy. And I'm sorry for how things played out, really and truly, I can't apologize enough and I feel sick about how I hurt you, but I don't regret it. He's the love of my life."
There was a pit in your stomach, but you knew when a battle was a lost cause. She really and truly believed he was it for her. And maybe he was, maybe she was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. But you had a difficult time believing that your sister was capable of reforming a man so quickly. Once a cheater, always a cheater. There was a reason that was the saying.
You swallowed and looked down at your feet, "Did you at least get a good lawyer for the prenup?"
"Theā¦ prenup?" The uncertainty in her voice made you look up. Her eyebrows were knitted together and she shook her head, "What're you talking about?"
You blinked for a moment, sure you must've misheard, or maybe she had misheard you, "The prenup. He made us do a prenup before we got married, said it was only practical. It was why the divorce was finalized so quickly."
You watched as her face transformed, defensiveness replaced with something that looked a lot like pity, "We don't have one," she said softly.
Confused and a bit nauseous now, you shook your head, "Thatā¦ That doesn't make any sense. He was so insistent on it when weāAre you sure?"
She nodded slowly, "I'm sorry. But it really is different between us. I'm sure of it."
The room was spinning and you felt like the floor had disappeared beneath you. You were freefalling.
"That makes sense, actually," you said eventually, beginning to step away from her to go inside, "I've always been the person people use for a trial run. Just didn't realize my husband was rehearsing marriage on me."
Maya called after you, but you had heard enough. You needed to get away from her. To get away from David. You didn't hear Jack when he called after you and you didn't notice him trailing behind you while you looked for somewhere to hide. Somewhere safe to fall apart.
But when you found an empty room, likely the bridal suite that Maya would get ready in tomorrow, you moved to close the doorā But found Jack's foot shoved between the door and the frame.
"Heyāwhat's going on? Can I come in?"
Immediately, you felt yourself soften at his voice. You felt nearly conditioned at this point to feel relief and comfort at his presence. There were many times during your residency where that voice had calmly talked you through a very scary case or his warm hand had guided you through an intense procedure. He was like a balm to your nervous system.
So after just a moment, you pulled the door back and let him in.
"What happened?" He asked as he closed the door behind you.
You shrugged helplessly and felt the tears begin to fall, an unstoppable wave behind your eyes, "Theyāthey didn't get a prenup."
Jack frowned, "Okayā¦I don't understand."
You looked up at the ceiling, a halfhearted attempt to stem the flow of tears. All of this had been a terrible, awful idea, only spurned on by your schoolgirl crush on your attending. And now he was seeing you like this, humiliated. It seemed every time you thought you'd hit rock bottom, the ledge would collapse beneath you, revealing several more stories to go.
"Before we got married he insisted on a prenup. I didn't really mind it, I thought it was pragmatic at the time. Very modern," You sniffed, "and in the end it made the divorce a lot easier. But he didn't make Maya sign one." You scrunched your mouth to the side in an attempt to stop your lip from wobbling, "I don't know why it hurts so much. Of all the things he's done to me, I don't know why it bothers me so much that he didn't have her sign oneāThat he must think she's it for him and he didn't think that when he married me.
"And if that wasn't bad enough," You continued after a moment, pushing your palms into your eyes, "He lied to her. Told her he was the one who ended it between us because he wanted to be with her." The memories flashed behind your eyes as you spoke, finding them in bed together, David chasing after you when you fled, tears streaming down his face as he got down on his knees and swore it was a mistake, "He begged me to take him back. Not even just that once, but for a while afterwards. He stalled on signing the papers for weeks. But he somehow convinced her that it was him who asked for the divorce so he could be with her."
When you were brave enough to look up at Jack, he was just watching you quietly, arms crossed, "It just feels likeā¦" You said slowly, "It would be so much easier if she was just the other woman, but he did give her the wedding I always wanted and he didn't make her sign the prenup and it feels like maybe he did just upgrade to a newer modelā"
"That's not trueā"
"āAnd then I feel awful for not wanting that because that means in a few years he'll probably hurt my sister the way he hurt me. But the alternative is that I just wasn't enough for him, I wasn't a good enough wife and she is. And either way I'm still the one alone and heartbroken and miserable."
The more you spoke, the more frantic and rushed your speech became and you couldn't catch your breath.
"OkayāCan Iā? Is it okay if I hold you for a minute?" Jack asked, arms already outstretched.
In the back of your head, you knew it was dangerous to keep seeking out his touch for comfort. But here he was offering and you were at risk of falling apart. So you nodded, let yourself fall into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours. You allowed yourself to wrap your arms around his waist in turn, further closing any distance between you.
"We knew this was going to be difficult no matter what," He said softly, running a soothing hand from your neck down your back, "But you need to remember that the decisions they made don't reflect back on you."
You scoffed, "Oh, they don't?"
"No!" Keeping his arms around you, he pulled back from you so he could see your face, "Fuck them. I don't care if they're fucking soulmates, it doesn't justify what they did to you."
You rolled your eyes and shook your head and Jack gently grasped your chin, pulling your face just slightly down so your eyes met his. His eyebrows were raised and the way he was looking at you so intently, his face so close to yours had your heart in your throat, "Maybe you don't believe me right now, but I'm gonna do my damnedest to get it through that pretty head of yours this weekend that you deserved better. You deserve the world. Nobody deserves what they did, but especially not you."
His closeness was so soothing to you, you rested your forehead against his, "Why're you so nice to me?"
He hummed, "Because you're one of my favorite people in the world and it makes meā¦ fucking irate to think that you don't know how incredible you are."
Suddenly embarrassed by the way his words made your stomach flip, you buried your face in the crook of his neck instead, "You're one of my favorite people, too."
His arms tightened around you and he kissed your head, "You ready to go get a drink?"
You sighed and pulled away from him, "God knows I need one."
With that smirk on his face that made your knees weak, he led you back out by the hand, turning his head back over his shoulder to give you a quick wink. With him by your side, real date or fake date, you thought maybe people would see you as worthy. If someone like Jack Abbot could love you then maybe you weren't the pathetic mess that they all thought you were.
***
"You doing okay, baby?" Your mom asked immediately as Jack led you over to her table, "I saw you rush by after talking to Maya, you seemed upset."
Jack pulled your chair out for you and as you sat down he gently squeezed your shoulders, "Better now," you said honestly as Jack sat down next to you.
"You wanna talk about it?" Your mom reached to squeeze your hand.
You shook your head, "No, I'm good. I promise."
Jack leaned over to you, lips brushing against your ear in a way that sent chills down your spine, "David just walked back in the room. He can't keep his eyes off you."
You turned your head so you were nose to nose with Jack. You expected him to put space between you, but he remained there. You were both surprised and pleased to see his pupils dilate in front of you.
"Well," You reached out and ran your fingers through his silver curls, "We should make sure we give him a show then, yeah?"
A wolfish grin spread across his face and he took your hand, pressing your fingers to his mouth before curling his pinky around yours, "Let's make it one to remember."
For the rest of the breakfast, Jack hand fed you cantaloupe wrapped in prosciutto, kissed on your shoulders and neck, and kept a firm hand on your thigh, a hand that steadily wandered higher as the morning waned into afternoon.
"I'm gonna go get us another round of drinks," You said quietly in his ear.
"Okay," His eyes trailed down your face until they landed on your mouth. You watched, arousal spreading like fire through your veins as he bit his lower lip, "Gimme a kiss first?"
You were pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk enough to not feel the fear of your own desire. Things were getting precarious. You wanted him too much. You had had just a taste of him earlier and you were greedy for more.
But you knew, somewhere, David was watching. Maya was watching. You could worry about your feelings for Jack later. When you kissed him this time it felt full to the brim with tension, Jack moving his hand to the back of your neck so you couldn't move. It sent all your neurons firing, the smell of his aftershave and the taste of wine on his breath.
You felt almost dizzy by the time you pulled away from him and headed to the bar.
***
Jack was in his own head as he watched you walk off to the bar. It was a good thing you weren't looking at him because he was sure there were hearts in his eyes right now after getting to kiss you twice this morning. He was aware that he was toeing a line with you, that you were likely only humoring him to make your ex husband jealous.
But he couldn't help it. Especially after you'd been crying to him just a bit before. He wanted to make you feel loved and wanted, it was the least he could do for you this weekend.
"So, when're you gonna tell her?"
Jack turned to look at your mother who was now leaning across your empty seat to talk to him, a knowing smile on her face.
"Sorry?"
"When are you gonna tell her that you're not pretending?"
Well, shit. He thought maybe he was just coming across as a very convincing actor, but your mother had seen right through him already. Jack laughed nervously and shook his head, "I justā¦ I just want her to feel good, that's all. She deserves better."
Your mother hummed, "No, I think you're exactly what she deserves. Handsome, intelligent, and most importantly, you've always looked out for her. I think you'd find she feels the same."
Jack shook his head as his eyes wandered back to you, "She's still in love with David."
"She's in love with the future she almost had with him. But I think a future with you would be even brighter."
He ran a hand along his jaw, "She doesn't need me or anyone else for that, she's created a bright future for herself all on her own."
Your mom's grin widened, "The fact that you know that just reinforces how good for her you'd be."
Jack was smiling, but he sighed. Your mother meant well and he knew the two of you were very close, but nothing was going to happen between you beyond the show you were putting on this weekend.
He was old, sad, widowed, an amputee. He wasn't even close to the man you deserved.
He wouldn't sit and explain all that to your mother. Besides, you were on your way back to the table now. He surprised himself with the force of his own grin when he met your eyes as you walked back over.
You were too good for him, but that wouldn't stop him from savoring every second pretending you were his.
***
After breakfast had morphed into lunch, everyone broke off to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.
Still buzzing, you and Jack stumbled arm and arm back to your hotel room. Immediately, Jack sat at the edge of the bed and pulled off his prosthetic and liner, groaning with relief as he did.
You bit your lip, "Can I help?"
He looked up at you and shook his head, "You don't have toā"
"I want to. Please."
He must have been more innebriated than he thought because eventually, he gave in, watching you intently as you wiped down his leg and then his prosthetic. All he could think as he watched you was that no one had taken care of him like this since his wife.
You warmed lotion in your hands before gently massaging it into his leg and he couldn't hold in the groan that clawed up his throat.
He heard a chuckle from you and finally had the good sense to be embarrassed, "Sorry," he said quickly, "I'm justāI'm not used to anyone elseā"
"It's okay, Jack. You don't have to explain." You finished massaging the rest of lotion into his skin and then leaned back on your heels, "Is that better?"
He nodded, "Much."
You sat on the bed next to him and without thinking much about it he slung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you back until you were both laying flat against the mattress.
You burrowed closer to him, head on his chest, "Thank you for everything this morning. I don't know how I would've gotten through any of it without you."
He pressed his cheek into your forehead, "It's me and you this weekend. I'm here for whatever you need."
You propped yourself up to see his face, "I don't know of anyone else in my life who would've volunteered to come do this with me."
"Why not?" He smirked, "It's a pretty good gig. Paid for hotel and food and drink. I get to kiss a girl way out of my league all weekend long."
You tilted your head a bit to the side, a look on your face he usually associated with when you ran a list of differential diagnoses in your head. You were focused, assessingāOn him, it seemed.
"I won't forget it," You said finally, "What you've done, what you're trying to do for me."
"Sweetheart, I'd do a hell of a lot more to make you see how wonderful you are. And I mean that."
He watched your eyes grow wet and then you sniffed and looked away from him, "Um, I'm gonna jump in the shower now, if that's alright with you?"
He nodded slowly, "'Course."
As soon as you removed yourself from his arms, he missed you. If things were different, if you were actually a couple, he likely would have followed you into the shower. As he listened to the spray of the shower against the walls and your soft humming, he closed his eyes and imagined himself in his shower chair, you stradling his lap.
When you walked back into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around your still wet body, Jack had to wave you off when you rushed to help with his crutches so that you wouldn't notice the tent in his pants.
He felt ashamed of himself when he finally did get in the shower and continued with the fantasy, grunting softly as he came down the drain, wondering what it would have felt like to spill inside you instead.
***
Your breathing was still erratic as you arrived to the rehearsal dinner, but knowing Jack would be next to you the whole time was a relief.
When your knee began jumping under the table as speeches were beginning to start, a warm hand engulfed your leg and squeezed gently.
"I think maybe I should step out," You whispered when your ex father in law began to stand, headed for the microphone. You felt nauseous. You hadn't prepared for the fact that people who used to be your family and friends, who had made speeches at your wedding would now be making speeches about your sister.
Before you could high tail it out of there, your ex father in law was speaking and though Jack was in your ear asking if you needed some air, you were transfixed. Unable to stop listening. He talked of the last year as if it was a revelation for his son. There was no direct mention of you, but instead a "black spot" in David's life for more than a decade. His father watched him wither under your love like a neglected house plant. It was only when your sister entered his lifeāconveniently no mention of how they had metāthat he began to really flourish. That David grew to be a man his father was proud of.
You were gonna be sick. You were hurt, but mostly angry. You had thought your relationship with David's family had been good. But clearly, they had fallen in love with Maya and become disillusioned with you. Just like David.
In your cloud of rage, you pushed back from the table, chair scraping loudly against the wood floor and stood. You realized heads had turned to you at this point, but you didn't care about that much right now. You needed to get out.
As you spun on your heel to flee, you heard your father in law make a stupid joke to redirect everyone's attention away from you. You thought maybe you heard Jack call after you, but you kept walking, blood pounding in your ears.
The late spring evening air had a chill to it now that the sun had set. You walked some distance away from the building, still shaking, before reaching into the pocket of your dress and pulling out your pack of cigarettes and lighter. Jack hadn't put much effort into hiding them and you'd found them earlier in his nightstand while he was in the shower.
You weren't a smoker, but during med school you had been known to smoke the occasional cigarette while drunk. You thought as you went to take a pull that your lungs might forget the habit, force you to choke the smoke back up, but it went down smooth. Like riding a bike.
"I thought you'd quit those once you started your residency," The sound of David's voice behind you had your shoulders tensing.
"I'm having a mid life crisis," you managed to deadpan and brought the cigarette back to your lips.
"Well," He stepped next to you, but you avoided looking at him. It would be the first time you saw him up close like this in a little more than a year, "Maybe with it you'll finally grow out of making everything about you."
He wanted a fight. You wouldn't rise to the occasion. It was amazing, really, that after everything he had come out here to fight. You wouldn't give it to him.
"You've really upset Maya today. I thought you were here to support your sister, but it seems like you're just hell bent on ruining her day."
"Yeah, well, she ruined my life so the least she can do is give me a day."
He scoffed, "You love to make yourself the victim, but you cheated too. And you had the audacity to fucking bring him here to rub it in my face."
You hummed, "We only started seeing each other six months ago. I never cheated on you," Finally, you turned to look at him and it hurt as spectacularly as you thought it would. It felt like fireworks erupted in your chest. There was the tiny mole on his jaw that you used to kiss every morning. There was the curl on his forehead you used to brush out of his eyes when he went too long without a haircut. "But if I had cheated on you, would it really bother you? Or would it just be a weight off your conscience to think maybe you didn't hurt me as badly as you did?"
He shook his head, "I'm not blind, the way he came in our house that dayāThat wasn't the way a leader treats their subordinate. Not unless they're fucking."
"He was trying to save my life," You ground out, and with it, your cigarette, "something you should have been just as concerned about, you know, as my husband."
As you turned to leave, you felt his hand circle your wrist and you snapped back towards him like a rubber band. You were briefly shocked at his touch, not afraid necessarily, just surprised that he was trying to prevent you from leaving.
"You had a miscarriage," he said, and you felt his hot breath fan your face, the sickly sweet smell of bourbon flooding your nostrils, "you weren't fucking stabbed."
For a moment, his words took you back two years ago, to texting Jack, alone in your bed. How even to him you tried to sound dismissive. It's probably nothing butā¦ Tell me if I'm overreactingā¦ I feel a little lightheaded, but I can probably sleep it off. How much of a burden David had made you feel like, that you felt you should downplay everything to Jack. The pain you were in, both physically and emotionally. How excruciating the loneliness was, how clearly repulsive David had found you.
You thought maybe you would've preferred being stabbed. Maybe it would have come with less complicated emotions. Maybe your husband would have taken your pain seriously. Maybe he would have laid in bed with you and comforted you instead of sexting your sister.
"Hey sweetheart," Jack's voice floats through the air before you can say anything else to David and he drops your wrist, "Everything okay?"
You took a step back from David, into the warmth of Jack's chest, "Fine, I was just taking a smoke break."
That earned you a double take, but he must have decided it wasn't worth scolding you over in front of David because he turned his attention back to the man in front of him, "Your mother's looking for you, why don't you head back inside? I'll be right behind you."
You frowned and turned back to him, but he just winked at you in the moonlight and then nodded his head back towards the building.
***
Jack had been watching you and David from a distance as soon as you'd left. Frankly, he hadn't wanted David to speak to you alone at all, especially after the speech his father had made, but you didn't run away when David approached you. And he knew you could handle yourself, had watched you do it with difficult patients. You would even hold your own around him on the rare occasion the two of you butted heads in the ER.
But there was something about the way your body language shifted when he was around. You tensed and then seemed to curl inward on yourself. Like you were afraid of taking up too much space around him. He'd never seen you like that around anyone. It was what made him stay, watching you both carefully, just in case.
He waited patiently. Until you turned to leave and David stopped you.
You weren't helpless. Jack knew you knew how to get out of a hold like that. You had told him once before you took self defense classes pretty regularly and you tried to convince the nurses to go with you when you could. You could've thrown David on his ass easily.
But you didn't, you just wilted further. It infuriated him, just like it infuriated him when you had the miscarriage. There was something about David that turned you into someone he didn't recognize. He wondered if David knew it, if he realized how vibrant you became when you pushed yourself out from underneath his thumb.
When you let him keep you there, keep you from leaving, Jack couldn't watch it anymore. He knew you didnt need rescuing, but the blood was roaring in his ears and suddenly his legs were moving of their own volition and thenā Hey sweetheart.
You seemed relieved by his intervention, and that bothered him even more. Because you could have left at any time, but David made you feel trapped.
He watched you walk away after he'd told you your mom was looking for youāa lieāand then turned back to David, "You touch her again," he said quietly, "and I'll break your fucking neck."
David laughed and ran a hand along his jaw, "Threatening a man on his wedding weekend. Very classy, Dr. Abbot. And bold considering you had an affair with my first wife."
Jack shook his head, "I never touched your wife inappropriately while you were still together. Unlike you, I greatly respect the sanctity of marriage."
For the first time, David's projected mask of casual indifference slipped. It bothered him immensely to be accused of anything immoral and it seemed no one in his life, except you, had pointed out to his face that he had. It didn't bother him that he had hurt you, Jack realized, it bothered him that anyone else thought less of his values. Or worse, thought he had none at all.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jack smirked as he backed away, "That was your one and only warning. Congratulations, man. I hope the second marriage sticks better than the first."
When he found you back inside, you were sitting with your mother, heads huddled together as you drank a dirty martini. He sat in the empty seat next to you and reached for the pack of cigarettes you'd left on the table.
"Heyā" You said indignantly, but Jack pocketed them before you could reach for them.
"You weren't supposed to have those." He said, eyebrows raised.
You pushed your lip out in an exaggerated pout, "But they made me feel so much better."
"Hm," Unable to resist, Jack ran a thumb over your lower lip, "so much better that you forgot your self defense training when he grabbed you?"
He had said it softly enough that only you could have heard, but you still found yourself glancing around, "He wouldn't have hurt me."
"That's not really the point though, is it? Why do you still let him make you feel small?"
Your eyebrows knit together and you shook your head, "IāI don't do that."
He nodded, "Yes, you do. I don't see you behave like this around anyone elseāyou shrink."
You pulled back in surprise and scoffed, "He was my husband." You said simply. As if it explained everything.
"So you just roll over and submit to him because he was your husband?"
Too far. He had pushed too far. He watched the wall go up behind your eyes, your features turned stony, "I need another drink." You said coldly and jumped up before he could say anything else.
"Fuck," Jack murmured, hesitating for only a second before jumping up to follow after you, "I'm sorry," he said sidling up next to you, "I didn't mean to upset you."
You were eating the olives from your empty martini glass as you waited for another, "Everyone is watching me today and will be watching me tomorrow. Picking apart my every move, foaming at the mouth hoping that I implode."
Jack glanced around and for the first time saw what you saw. At any given time there were at least four sets of eyes on you, whispers behind hands.
"I don't need you picking me apart as well."
He turned back towards you, "I didn't mean it like that. I justā¦ feel very protective of you and I don't like the idea of anyone making you feel less than. Even if they were your husband."
You nodded and then thanked the bartender when he handed you another martini. With your free hand, you held out your pinky to Jack, "It's me and you, right?"
Jack smiled and nodded, wrapping his pinky around yours, "You and me."
There was a vulnerability in your eyes as you looked at him, a fragility you hadn't yet shown him until now. He was just now realizing how much of a show you must be putting on for everyoneāfor him. He didn't want you to hide from him.
Maybe you initiated it because you were drunk, but Jack didn't stop you when you slowly inched your face close to his. Mouths centimeters apart, he cupped your cheek with his hand, felt it when you leaned into his palm.
"Jack?"
"Hm?"
"I really like kissing you," you said softly, "probably more than I should."
His stomach flipped and he wet his lips with his tongue, "I really like kissing you, too. Definitely more than I should."
He felt it when your breath stuttered against his mouth, "Good."
It felt like a relief, admitting that. He had his suspicions you weren't kissing him back just for show, but to hear you say it outright electrified him. With your mouth on his, warm and tasting of olives and vodka, he didn't notice the likely dozens of eyes that must've been on you.
Jack hadn't dated since he lost his wife. He'd maybe shared a drunken kiss with a couple of women at a bar, but nothing beyond that. He hadn't wanted to. There had never been anyone else that he wanted to get lost in like that.
But kissing you now, his longing burst from him. Tongue sliding into your mouth, his heart felt like an open wound. Would you help him suture it closed? Or would you rip him open and dig deeper?
Tearing himself from you, he pulled back enough to look into your face, "Do you want toā¦ Go somewhere else? Alone?"
Your fingers raised to your swollen lips, you looked around at all the people who were now acting like they hadn't been watching. Your eyes stopped on David for a moment as he brushed Maya's hair off her shoulder and kissed her bare skin.
You cleared your throat and turned back to Jack, "Yes."
***
Your heart was racing as Jack led you by the hand down the hall until you were in the bridal suite again, Jack pushing you against the door to close it.
His mouth was hot and insistent on yours, low groans deep in his throat stirring the fire in your belly.
It felt euphoric, being able to touch him and taste him like this. Though, every second, was the gnawing thought in the back of your head that this was only situational.
He didn't want you, not really, not fully. He just was caught up in the moment. You knew you weren't a bad kisser and you suspected Jack's private life was fairly nonexistent since his wife passed. He had only taken off his wedding band a couple months ago. Taking all that into consideration, he was just having some fun.
The problem, of course, being that you wanted more than that. Being newly divorced you guessed you should have wanted something uncomplicated, but you knew if it was Jack who was involved, you'd only want unfettered devotion. You cared for him far too much, there was no world where your heart was capable of being casual about him.
But fuck, you wished you could turn your brain off and just focus on the way it felt to kiss him, the way his hands on your body felt like heaven. He hitched your hip up to meet his, one hand roaming up your dress, your head falling back while he kissed your neck.
When he pulled back from you, you chased his mouth and he smirked. Repeating the movement, he leaned back into you before pulling away while you chased him.
You couldn't help the whine that slipped from you, "Fucking tease." You grumbled.
Jack brought his fingers up to his mouth and you watched, jaw going slack as he sucked two fingers in his mouth.
When he brought them back out, they glistened with saliva and you swallowed, eyes following as they went downā
"Eyes on me, sweetheart." Jack said softly and your eyes snapped back to his, even as you felt his hand beneath your dress. His deft fingers shifted your panties to the side and your eyes stayed locked on his as he gently slipped a finger inside you.
Your eyelids fluttered at the pleasure and Jack's sigh fanned your face, "That feel good, baby?"
You nodded, barely able to keep your head on straight. He was so close to you, you could smell the liquor on his breath, heady and intoxicating. You wanted him so badly, you ached, it wasn't enough with his fingers inside you. You felt greedy, you wanted to feel him wholly.
Your hands twitched, wanting to unbuckle his belt, see how hard you had made him. But along with the desire, panic was brewing. Through your haze as his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you, a thumb lazily circling your clit, you were panicking.
There had only been one serious relationship in your life and it had been David. Before David, you had done the hooking up while in college, the one night stands and friends with benefits. But it had never been enjoyable, you had never been able to come. For a while you thought maybe there was something wrong with you. Maybe you just didn't like sex.
But as you began dating David and then sleeping with him, you realized that wasn't it at all. It was just that you needed an emotional connection to get off. You needed to be attracted to someone's heart, you needed to trust them to get there.
And now with Jack's fingers inside you, it fucking terrified you how quickly your peak was approaching.
He was more than likely just trying to get his rocks off and you were falling in love with him, you could feel it. You were in danger of getting broken if you didn't find an escape hatch soon.
"Fuckā" Your walls were beginning to flutter around his fingersāIt was becoming hard to breatheā
"There you go, sweetheart, I can feel you, go onā"
Swallowing, you put a hand on his wrist and pushed lightly, "Troponin," you gasped.
Immediately, Jack froze. Embarrassed, you avoided looking at him as he pulled his fingers from you and stepped back. You mourned the loss of his touch immediately.
"Sorry, did IāDid I hurt you?"
"No," you shook your head quickly, "No, you did nothing wrong. I just, umā" You grasped at nothing for the words, for what to say, heat spreading up your neck to your cheeks.
"It's okay, you don't have to explain," He said quickly, but you heard the disappointment in his voice, "I'm gonna step outside so you can straighten yourself out."
He was gone before you could say anything else and you were alone. Straighten myself out, you thought as you pulled at your panties and dress, putting everything back the way it should be. If only it were that simple to straighten out your head, your heart.
This whole thing, coming to the wedding, bringing Jack here, had been stupid. Reckless.
At this point, there was no way you left this wedding better off than when you came. Your eyes burned as you braced yourself to go back out there.
Jack had said you didn't have to explain, but didn't you? Didn't you have to give him some excuse after the confusion you'd certainly just caused?
But when you came back out, he was waiting with a smile. The only way to tell something had changed was just his subtle check in with you to see if he could put a hand on your back or hold your hand.
After another couple of hours of socializing and another drink or two, you were leaning your back against his chest. He kissed the side of your face and then leaned into your ear, "Time to get you to bed?"
When you nodded, he gently led you around to your parents so you could say goodnight before beginning to walk you towards your hotel.
"Jack, I'm really sorry about earlierā" You started when you were outside, the only sound was of the cicadas chirping and the muffled music and talking from the rehearsal dinner behind you.
"You have nothing to apologize for, I moved too quickly. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."
You bit your lip. You wanted to tell him that he hadn't moved too quickly, that actually you wanted him so badly he hadn't moved quickly enough.
"You didn't make me uncomfortable," You said slowly, "What you said earlier, when you said you didn't understand why I let David make me feel smallā"
He sighed, "That was out of lineā"
You moved in front of him and shook your head, "It wasn't. You were right, that's how our relationship always was. I let himā¦ Tell me what to do, when to do it, I let him talk down to me, I let him do anything. He was the only relationship I ever knew," You blinked, tears blurring your vision, "I thought that was being loved. I still think that, sometimes. He wrapped his hand around my wrist and I know it's fucked up, but I thought to myself 'He still cares. He still loves me.' Sometimes I think maybe I should have forgiven him when he cheated on me. At least then I'd still have just that little bit of love." Your face crumpled, the emotion swelling even as you tried to stop it, "I'm just so fucking lonely. But I don't know how to be with anyone who's not him."
Jack's face softened and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest, "It's okay, baby, I've got you," As you cried into him, he kissed the top of your head, "It's gonna be okay."
When you got back to the hotel room, it was Jack who sat you at the edge of the bed and took a facecloth and your micellar water and gently removed your makeup while you cried, the most tender look on his face. He got your toothbrush for you, a cup to rinse and spit in after. And then with the softest voice, asked you if it was okay if he helped you out of your dress.
He tucked you in, following on his side a few minutes later.
You were still crying silently when you felt him next to you, careful to keep his distance. After the gentleness he'd shown you all night, even after your blatant rejection, your restraint was frayed.
"Jack?" You said after a few minutes.
"Yeah?"
"Do you thinkā¦Could you hold me?"
Without hesitation, you already felt him shifting on the bed, "Of course," He slung an arm around your middle and tugged you to his chest.
You closed your eyes and focused on the warmth of his body behind yours. Without meaning to, your hand grabbed ahold of his and you tucked his arm even tighter around you. You brought his hand to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his calloused palm.
He sighed in what sounded like contentment into your neck and pressed a kiss just below your ear.
When you were about to drift off to sleep, comforted by the warmth and solidness of Jack behind you, his scent enveloping you, you thought you heard a muffled, rough "love you."
He was likely already half asleep, maybe thinking of his wife. But for just a moment, as you slipped further into sleep, you allowed yourself to believe he was talking to you. That you got to fall asleep like this every night, wrapped in his arms, safe and loved.
***
Jack wasn't sure what he should be feeling when he woke up the next morning, still wrapped around you. You were still sleeping when he woke, the sun streaming in from the windows haloing around your head.
As his eyes carved paths down your face, the curve of your neck and shoulders, he felt overwhelmed with adoration. He wanted to stay like this forever, transfixed by the peaceful expression on your face. Unable to resist, he gently stroked a knuckle against your cheek. You didn't wake, but you hummed softly at his touch.
Man, was he in love with you. He knew especially after last night that you'd likely never return those feelings. You were still hung up on David and even if you weren't, you deserved something that was uncomplicated. Not a traumatized, widowed, amputee, vet who was pushing fifty. He was grateful just to be your friend and to have this weekend with you to play pretend. He'd lock the memories carefully away when you returned to Pittsburgh, only to revisit when he was alone and wistful.
You interrupted his thoughts with a heavy sigh, blinking slowly until you woke fully. You shifted in his arms until you saw him, awake next to you, and smiled.
"Good morning," you murmured, voice raspy from sleep. He wished it didn't, but the sound of your voice the first thing in the morning had him wanting to do unspeakable things with you in this bed.
"Morning," he said softly, smothering his desire as he pulled his arm away from you, "How'd you sleep?"
"Good," You said, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and then stretching your arms over your head. He pretended not to notice the way your nipples peaked beneath the thin cotton of your shirt, "You?"
He nodded, "Good. How're you feeling about today?"
You inhaled and exhaled slowly and then shook your head, "I don't know. I'm not looking forward to it."
He nodded, "Do you wanna go home?"
You frowned, "After all this, you would drive me home right now?"
He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, "I think maybe I was wrong about this whole thing. You've been hurting the entire time."
You shook your head, "Not the entire time," you said softly and squeezed his hand, "Anyway, I spent a fortune on a dress and I look hot as fuck in it so I can't let it go to waste."
Jack smiled slowly, "You're sure?"
You nodded, "I don't want to give them the satisfaction of leaving early."
He nodded, "Alright, let's get ready then."
You weren't kidding about looking hot in the dress. It was black and clung to your every curve, flowing out just below your knees.
"What do you think?" You asked, moving to bend down to put your shoes on.
Jack was faster though, sinking to a knee at your feet with a heel in his hand and gesturing for you to lift your foot into it, "I think," He said, buckling the strap around your ankle, "You look breathtaking."
Having helped you into your shoes, he straightened to standing, letting his fingers trail against your calf as he did. Face to face with you, you reached out to straighten his tie, which he thought was mostly just an excuse to step closer to him. His tie was already straight.
"You look good in a suit, Abbot." You said, smoothing your hands across his shoulders before meeting his eyes.
Pleased, he smiled and ran a hand along his jaw, "I was thinking about shavingā"
"No, don'tā" You said quickly, causing him to meet your eyes in question. You bit your lip and looked away, "I just, um, I like theā¦ scruff."
You were a tough puzzle to crack. Clearly, you were into him, physically anyway. Yet you had cut it off when you got too close to the edge. He knew he hadn't imagined your moans and the contracting of your walls around his fingers. You had been close and something about that had spooked you. Your explanation had been David, and he believed that for the most part, but he couldn't stop noticing the way you reached for him when you were scared or uncomfortable. How you had asked him to hold you the previous night. The physical intimacy between the two of you that had grown over the last two days seemed to soothe you.
And maybe that was all there was to it. That you were lonely and you trusted him and his touch made you feel safe. Maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see when he thought there was a bit more to the way you looked at him.
His mouth twitched, "Alright, no shaving, then."
***
The ceremony was difficult to sit through. You and Jack had done a shot of tequila before walking over, which had been helpful in loosening you up, but still. You looked almost anywhere else the entire time. Tried to ignore the nearby gushing of guests of how beautiful Maya was and how great they looked together and David tearing up when she walked down the aisle.
The vows were the most difficult to sit through and thankfully, you couldn't recall what had been said. The entire time, Jack's hand had been on your knee. But when that hadn't proved to be enough of a distraction, he had taken your hand and started thumb wrestling you. By the end of the ceremony you were having such a difficult time not laughing, people's heads were beginning to turn towards the two of you.
Once you'd made it to the reception, Jack had immediately tugged you to the barā and was promptly disappointed when the bartender refused to serve you shots.
"Really, man? This is the bride's sisterā"
"Jackā"
"I'll tell you what," Jack fished out his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, sliding it across the bartop, "Can we have those shots now?"
Your head swiveled as you watched the bartender pocket the hundred to see if anyone else was watching. Jack turned back to you, "What kind of bar doesn't serve shots at a wedding?"
You scoffed, "Have you been to a wedding in the last ten years?"
He turned to you, frowning, "Are you implying that I'm old?"
You smirked, "I didn't say that. Every wedding I've been to in the last decade that had an open bar refused to serve shots."
He narrowed his eyes, "That's insanity."
You shrugged, "As an emergency physician I would think you could understand why that may be the case."
"Eh," he shrugged, "Weddings should be a little messy. What's a wedding if your uncle doesn't get a little too drunk and start a fist fight with your third cousin?"
You laughed as the bartender slid you each a tequila shot, lime wedges on the rims. You took the lime off and turned to Jack, "Cheers," you said, clinking your shot glass against his.
After you both had slammed empty shot glasses back on the bartop, you were wincing as the tequila burned a path down your throat.
Jack winced too and then gestured yuou over with his hands, "C'mere."
You frowned, but stepped to him nonetheless, "Whatā?"
His hand cupped the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a bruising kiss. At first, the surprise of it had you tensing, but then you went molten in his arms, his tongue licking languid strokes in your mouth.
As quickly as it started it was over and you felt dizzy as you pulled away, clearing your throat, "What was that for?" You asked, conscious of the heat in your cheeks.
"Needed a stronger chaser," He said and winked at you, "lime wasn't enough."
Smirking, you let him lead you away from the bar and to your table. What the fuck were the two of you doing?
***
You probably should have been more careful about your drinking. Drinking when feeling vulnerable and sad and also wistful had never ended well for you. You were staring at Jack for too long, which for his part, he seemed to find amusing.
"I look that good, huh?" He leaned in and joked, nudging his nose against yours.
You had nodded, biting down on your lip, "You look sinful."
And it was true. As the night progressed, he had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned a couple of buttons at the top of his shirt and you could see some of his chest hair peeking out. You had an idea of what he was working with, broad chest and muscled arms that you had long admired in t-shirts and scrub tops, but tonight you felt like ripping his shirt off entirely. You wanted the buttons to pop and you wanted to ravage him.
You were drunk enough that the fear had seemed to leave you and Jack was a welcome distraction from everything else. But when the home videos started playing after they had cut the cake it was difficult to keep a smile on your face.
"You were adorable," He whispered in your ear, arm resting on the back of your seat. A video was playing of you helping your dad teach Maya how to ride a bike, "And a great big sister," You were about seven years older than Maya and had taken a lot of pride in being a big sister.
You inhaled slowly through your nose and pushed the ice in your glass around with your straw, "Yeah, and look where that got me."
Jack tilted his head, "Come on, don't do that."
You shrugged, "It's the truth." You felt the tears pinpricking the back of your eyes. This was what the alcohol did to you, brought everything you tried to bury to the surface. "I did everything for her and she stabbed me in the back. Sorry," You said immediately shaking your head, "I just need a second."
You pushed away from the table and went to collect yourself outside. Your hands shook and you cursed lowly under your breath. When you heard heels clicking behind you, you expected to see your mother, but when you turned it was your sister following you outside, white dress billowing behind her like an angel.
"Hey, are you okay? I saw you run outāOh, you're crying."
You knew immediately that Maya had no idea how to comfort you. It was always you comforting Maya. And even after everything had imploded with you and David, you had never cried in front of her.
Awkward and stilted, she tried to wrap her arms around you, but you shrugged her off, "Please don't touch me."
"I'm just trying to helpā"
"Don't you think you've done enough?" You snapped.
She scoffed and took a step back, "God, can't you just for one fucking day get over yourself? Today is supposed to be about me."
You laughed and shook your head, "Every day of my fucking life from the day you were born has been about you!"
"Oh, God, I'm so fucking sorry for the crime of being bornā"
"That's not what this is about and you know it. Even my marriage ended up being about youā"
"I'm sorry he wanted me and not you! But that's not my fucking fault! Get over it!"
You scoffed, "Me? You want me to get over it? You stole my fucking husbandā"
"You can't steal someone who doesn't want to be stolen!"
"Oh my fucking God," Your rage felt like a living thing in your chest. For a moment, you forgot where you were and it was just you and Maya. "Are you ever going to take accountability for what you did to me? Don't you think it's time you finally grow the fuck up?!"
"That's enough!" David swept in and placed himself between the two of you, Maya behind you, and lowered his voice to a hiss, "People are fucking staring, could you shut the fuck up?"
It was the alcohol, it had to have been. You never would have been behaving this way if you hadn't been innebriated to the level you were. But the rage you had suppressed for months and months was finally bubbling to the surface and the alcohol was like gasoline on the fire.
"Go fuck yourself," You said to David before you spat on his shoes.
Turning, you intended to leave and go back inside, but then your arm was being grabbed and pulled so aggressively, you thought your shoulder might pop out of your socket.
"Did you just fucking spit on me?" You were face to face with David again, his hand still gripping your arm no matter how you tugged.
"You're hurting me." You said calmly. If you were less drunk you might've been able to use those self defense classes Jack had mentioned last night to get out of his hold. But your brain was muddled and all you could focus on was your anger.
"Dave, let her go." Maya was saying in the background, but David wasn't listening.
"Hey!" That voice, you would recognize anywhere. But you were only used to hearing it that angry in the emergency department. With an unruly patient or fighting with admin. But Jack was pissed now as he stormed outside, laser focused on David and where his hand gripped you tight enough to bruise.
Upon seeing Jack, for his part, David immediately dropped you. But that did nothing to deter Jack, who although a couple of inches shorter than David, had no problem getting right in his face, "What did I fucking say to you last night, huh? You think this is a game?"
"Jackā" You said gently in warning, but he was lost to you.
David smirked down at Jack, "You gonna throw fists at my wedding, old man?"
You hadn't ever seen Jack this angry before and you were worried that he would start throwing punches. He fisted the lapels of David's suit in his hands and spun until he slammed David's back into a wall.
"Jackā" You said more insistently, a little more desperate since you heard Maya getting hysterical behind you, "It's fine he didn't hurt meā"
"You are so fucking lucky she's hereā" He jerked his head in your direction, "āAnd I don't wanna embarrass her because I would take such fucking pleasure from ramming my knee into your groin if we were anywhere else. I may be an old man, but all that means is I've won way more bar fights than you have. And you're a fucking coward if your baby soft hands are any indication."
David set his jaw and looked around Jack to you, "Could you get your fucking meathead boyfriend off of me?"
Jack rammed David against the wall one more time for good measure before dropping him. Grabbing your hand, scowl still on his face, he dragged you back inside, "Jackā"
"I know, I'm sorry," He said finally, dropping your hand and running it over his face, "I know you can handle it yourself, but he just makes me wanna fuckin'ā"
"Hey, it's fine," You said quickly, ignoring everyone else who was whispering about the scene you'd just made, "It was my fault anyway, Iā" You bit your lip and looked down at the floor, embarrassed, "I spit on his shoes."
"I know, I saw," Jack said, sounding amused. And then his finger curled under your chin, pullng your face up gently so you could see the shit eating grin on his face, "It was kinda hot."
You snorted and rolled your eyes, "Shut up."
"No, I'm serious. It was nice to see you stand up for yourself with him for once. And your sister too. Did it feel good?"
Shyly, you nodded, "It feels awful to admit it, but yeah it did feel kinda good."
"'Atta girl," He said softly and your stomach did a somersault. You weren't sure what was going on between the two of you anymore. The line had blurred so much between what was being done for show and what was real that it was impossible to find anymore.
You weren't blind, you knew he wanted you physically and clearly he cared about you, but neither of those things necessarily combined to I'm in love with you.
And even if he were in love with you, that didn't mean he wanted to be with you. Love wasn't always enough, you knew that more than anybody. There was work to be done in a relationship and not everybody was willing to put in the work.
You were drunk enough that you were thinking of articulating all this to Jack, though a small part of you knew that was a mistake, but the second you opened your mouth someone was tapping you on the shoulder.
You turned to see Brandon, David's best man, glaring at you with a beer in hand, "Can I talk to you alone for a second?"
Brandon was known to be an explosive drunk. There were several times when out with a group of friends at the bar that David had had to carefully remove him from situations that would have gotten him arrested for assault. In fact, when David wasn't there, it wasn't unheard of for him to get a call in the middle of the night from Brandon saying that he needed to be bailed out of jail.
You didn't like Brandon, never had, and you certainly did not want to be alone with him when he'd been drinking.
"You can talk to me right here."
Brandon shook his head, then shrugged, "Fine. I think it was disrespectful of you to show up here with him and now you've made your own sister cry, saying her wedding's ruinedā"
"Oh, give me a break, no one's gonna remember our little spat by the end of the night," You said rolling your eyes, "And if David and Maya wanted a perfect wedding they probably should have married different people. I'm so sick of everyone acting like what they did to me was fucking normal!"
"Stop acting like the victim when you cheated with him first!"
You blinked, "I never cheated and frankly I'm tired of everyone saying I did. I was recovering from surgery after miscarrying his fucking baby and he was busy sleeping with my sister! It's sociopathic behavior and I'm so tired of all of you making excuses for him!" You were shouting again, angry tears streaming down your cheeks, all the people around you were quiet and staring.
Brandon stepped closer to you and you stepped backāinto Jack's broad chest behind you. Immediately comforted, you softened, until Brandon was wagging a finger in your face, "If you had any fuckin' decency you wouldn't have come here."
You rolled your eyes, "Oh, go kick rocks, Brandon. You're a drunk loser who's been riding David's coattails for the last decade. You don't know anything about decency."
You turned on your heel and grabbed Jack's hand as you tried to lead him away from the growing wildfireāWhen there was a sound like shattering glass and then a scream.
You and Jack both turned towards the commotion on instinctāAnd found that Brandon had gotten so angry, he'd thrown his beer bottle in your direction, but his piss poor aim meant it had shattered about three feet to your rightāRight where Maya was standing with DavidāAnd there was blood on the floor.
It wasn't immediately clear where the blood was coming from because of Maya's billowing wedding gown, but judging by her tears it was definitely her who was injured.
Without thinking about it all that much, you and Jack both began walking towards herā
"Both of you, get away from her," David said, "I think you've done enough."
Jack's hands were raised in surrender, "We're probably the only doctors here, I just wanna make sure she doesn't need stitches, that's all." You noted his immediate shift in tone and posture: this was emergency medicine physician Dr. Abbot in front of you. All traces of Jack were gone.
"It's okay, David," Maya said softly, "Let them take a look."
Reulctantly and with his jaw set, David stepped aside. As you both moved to Maya, turned and pressed his car keys into your palm, "Why don't you go grab some supplies from my truck? And a suture kit just in case?"
You frowned, "But Iā"
"Don't take this personally, but I think Maya's still upset with you and would be more comfortable withā¦ someone else assessing her injuries."
You looked from Maya, who was carefully avoiding eye contact with you, back to Jack. He really had shifted into supervising attending mode. You were his senior resident again and he had just given you an order. You were annoyed, but shrugged and backed away, "Fine."
***
Jack trailed behind as David carried Maya off into another room. As he did, he couldn't help but think how David had downplayed you almost bleeding out from a miscarriage, but was now babying his new wife over a cut on the foot. He wasn't sure what that said about the man. If maybe he was truly better off with Maya or that maybe he was like this with you in the beginning as well. Maybe that was why you seemed to have such a hard time letting him go.
When David set Maya down on a chair in the bridal suite, Jack took a step toward Maya, but she stopped him with a raised hand and turned to David, "Davey baby, why don't you go check in with my parents? I'm sure they're wondering what all the commotion was about, they'll be looking for me."
David frowned, "No, Iā" He glanced at Jack, "I don't want to leave you alone with him."
Maya gave him a skeptical look, "Whatever beef you guys have, I don't think Dr. Abbot would do anything to hurt me," she turned to look at Jack, "Right?"
Jack shook his head, "I just wanna check on that laceration."
Maya turned back to David as if to say see? And eventually, he folded, sighing, "Fine. I'll be right back."
With David gone, Jack lowered himself to the floor to get a look at Maya's ankle. She had pulled the skirts of her dress up so he could access it more easily. His limb was beginning to ache where it sat in his socket, and the lowering of himself to the ground wasn't helping, but the alcohol was doing a pretty good job at masking the discomfort.
There was one lac, about three inches long on her ankle and it seemed to already be clotting. He turned her ankle this way and that to see if there was anything else, but it seemed to be just the one. He'd have to flush it out with saline to make sure there was no glass in the wound, but she'd just need a bandage. He told her as much and she sighed in relief.
"Look, umā" She sighed, "You seem like a loyal man who really cares about my sister so I understand if you probably don't like me, but I just wanted to say that I am really happy for you both. You seem really good together." At the look on Jack's face she added quickly, "And I'm not just saying that to relieve my own conscience, Iā" She sighed, "I know what I did, what I allowed to happen, I know why she can't forgive me, I justā" She blinked, eyes going glassy, "I just really miss her, you know?"
She looked a lot like you when she cried and it softened Jack to her immediately, "I think that in your rush to be forgiven and not lose her, she feels like you keep trying to dismiss why she feels so hurt."
Maya sniffed and nodded, "Is she really still that devastated? Now that she has you?"
God, she was so young. You and Jack weren't together, but he thought even if you were this would still be a sore spot for you. Did she really not get it? "Two of the people she loved and trusted most in her life lied to her and snuck around behind her back for almost a year. That's not something that heals that easily, and not without a scar."
Maya was silent for a moment and then her voice came out small, almost childish, "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"
Jack sighed and shrugged, "I can't answer that, kid. I know she really misses you, but I think she's just as angry."
She nodded, fingers knotted in her lap, "Can you at least promise me," She said, reaching out her pinky to him, "That you'll take care of her? She's always taking care of everyone else and I think she really justā¦ Needs someone else to. At least for a while."
Well, that was easy. He'd never stop looking out for you. "Sure," he said and wrapped his pinky around Maya's, "I promise."
***
You don't think they heard you when you stepped into the bridal suite, but what a sight it was. Jack on his knees in front of your sister, smiling up at her, his pinky wrapped around hers.
You wished you could say the way you reacted had nothing to do with jealousy or trust issues. That it had nothing to do with how the last person you had been in love with had turned you in for the newer, fitter model in front of you.
It wasn't even the way he was looking at her. You'd worked with Jack for years, you knew he smiled at everyone like that. You knew he was a habitual flirt.
It was the pinky promise that really gutted you, combined with everything else. You felt like you were being slapped in the face with the fact that you weren't special, not to anybody, and certainly not to Jack. Something that had felt almost like a secret handshake over the course of the weekend now trespassed upon by your sister.
And of course, the alcohol in your system just fed on these insecurities, nurtured them until they were all you could see.
So, heart aching in your chest, you walked towards them and set the supplies you'd brought down next to Jack.
For your sister's part, she jumped away from him when she realized you were there, but Jack seemed unbothered, "Hey, could you start a saline flush? She just needs a bandageā"
"I need another drink, actually, so do it yourself."
You saw Jack stiffen at your curtness, but you turned and started walking before he could say anything else. He barely got out your name before you had left the room.
It wasn't long, though, before he caught up with you, "Did I do something wrong?" He asked quietly.
"Nope." You tried to feign cool and casual, but the truth was it felt the walls were closing in on you. You had nothing and nobody. You were so goddamn lonely it had started feeling like karmic punishment, for what you didn't know.
"Really," he said, "so there's no reason for the way you spoke to me back there? In front of your sister?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, I need a drinkā"
He grabbed your arm, not unkindly, and turned you so that you were facing him, "I think you've had enough to drink todayā"
You pulled away from him, stumbling a bit so that he reached out for you, but you regained your balance without his help, "We are not in the ED so you don't get to tell me what to do."
His brows knitted together and he shook his head, "I don't understand, we were just good like five minutes ago, why are you acting like this?"
"What does it matter? You're not my boyfriend, it's not your responsibility to figure it out." You turned and started walking again, "I'm actually just gonna leave, I think, I don't wanna be here anymore."
"Okay," Jack said slowly, "That's fine, let's go thenā"
"No," you said, "Not we, me. I'm going. Alone."
Jack threw up his hands, exasperated, "Are we not friends, at least? Can you tell me where you're going? You're drunk, you shouldn't be wandering by yourselfā"
"I'm going back to our room, getting my things, and then I'm calling an Uber to take me home."
You started walking again and Jack had to jog to catch up. You felt a pang of guilt when you noticed his slight limp. He'd been on his feet most of the day.
"You're gonna call an Uber to take you back to Pittsburgh? Right now?"
"Yes."
He sighed heavily, "Sweetheart, please, throw me a rope, anything: Why are you so upset with me?"
You felt childish when your vision swam in front of you, "What did you promise her?"
He frowned and shook his head, "What? Who?"
"My sister," You said, swallowing past the lump in your throat, "You pinky promised her something, I thought that was our thing."
His face fell and you could almost see his brain doing calculus behind his eyes as he shook his head, "That is our thing, we were just talking," You were shaking your head, trying to keep a stiff upper lip, "Come on, baby, it's you and me, remember?"
He was holding his pinky out to you and you hated the way you instantly softened at his term of endearment. Anytime he called you baby or sweetheart you melted. But that was how you'd been for David, too, and look how that had turned out. Jack himself said you gave into him too easily and you used to think that's what love was. You wouldn't fold like that anymore, not for anybody.
"I'm going home," You said again and then began walking outside.
Jack chased you the whole way, going on and on about how he knew you were hurting but he thought you were misdirecting your anger at him. When you got to the room he kept talking, begging you to stay and just get in bed with him and you could talk when you were sober. Please, I'll drive you home first thing in the morning, I promise. He was growing increasingly more desperate the longer you ignored him and when you went downstairs to meet your Uber, he carried your bag, but still repeatedly asked you to stay with him.
"Please don't get in the car," He said quietly, even as he put your bag in the trunk for you, "Please come back upstairs with me, I'm sorry. I was talking about you the entire time I was talking to your sister, I didn't mean anything by it."
Looking back on it later, you knew you should've stayed. Somewhere deep behind the anxiety and the pain you knew you were being unreasonable. Punishing Jack for crimes he hadn't committed.
You were looking for problems to make it easier for you to leave so he couldn't leave you first.
The truth was, in all the time you'd been with David, he had never once chanced after you when you were upset with him. He'd never made the effort to try to understand why you were upset. Not even when things were good between you.
Jack was nothing like him, but you were punishing him anyway because you were afraid of how much you cared about him. It was easier to think it wouldn't work out between the two of you because he had fucked up instead of the truth that he more than likely didn't want you like that.
So you got in the car, stared at your phone instead of Jack's receding form as your driver pulled off the curb.
***
Jack Abbot thought himself a patient man. After you left that night, he'd stared off after the Uber feeling sorry for himself and only sent you a single text: Please just let me know when you get home.
On the way back upstairs to the hotel room, he ran into your mother who he apologized profusely to as he explained you had left.
"It's not your fault," She said quickly, "Honestly, I'm impressed she'd made it this far. I expected her to cuss them out as soon as she set foot on the property."
Jack frowned, "Why'd you encourage her to come then?"
"Oh, well, that was the outcome I wanted," She smiled, "I know it seems crazy, what mother wants their daughters to have it out in front of everyone they love? But I've watched her bury it over the last two years. It was eating away at her. And I know that because I did the same thing."
Jack nodded slowly, "She mentioned. That you'd been in a similar situation with her father. I'm sorry."
She shook her head, "The only thing I regret now was not letting myself get angry." She sighed, "I'm sorry you were in the cross fire though, that I didn't want. I was actually hoping that you being here would remind her that her life wasn't over, but I underestimated how much she likes you."
Jack frowned, "I don't follow."
Your mother looked at him with a sad smile on her face, "She's scared of you. Of how you make her feel. That's why she left."
She had left him with that and he'd mulled it over in his head for a while, but decided he couldn't confront that and what it might imply right then. He was still drunk and now he was sad. He had only shared a bed with you for two nights, but he thought he'd probably sleep like shit without you.
He woke up the next morning in the empty hotel bed and saw you'd texted him just before dawn: home.
He wanted to say more. He wanted to call you, he wanted to hear your voice, make sure you were actually alright. But he didn't do any of that. He packed up his truck and headed out without saying goodbye to anyone and drowned out his thoughts with the radio.
Jack was patient when he arrived at his first shift back since the wedding, eager to see you, only to have Lena tell him you had called out. Fine. You had never done that before, but fine. If you still wanted space he could do that.
The second night you called out, he was irritated and finding it difficult to think about anything else. But still, he remained steadfast. He would not push you when you clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
The third night, he snapped.
"What the fuck?" He hissed to Lena, "She can't keep calling out like this, have youāI mean, have you actually spoken to her?"
"No, just texts," she leaned closer to Jack, "What happened while you guys were upstate?"
Jack scrubbed at his face, "Doesn't matter. Could you please call Shen and see if he'll come in tonight? I need to go check on her."
He tried calling you while he waited for Shen to get there, knowing you wouldn't pick up, but at least you didn't deny his call. You had enough decency to let it ring until it went to voicemail instead.
As he headed to your place, his fingers drummed anxiously against the steering wheel. He had no plan, no idea what he was going to say to you whenāif you opened the door. Regardless, he was eager to see you. Even if you just screamed at him to fuck off.
He paced outside your door after ringing the doorbell, fists clenching and unclenchingāhe felt like a fucking teenager.
When the door cracked open, he stopped and turned, taking you in.
You were barefoot in sweats and a hoodie, eyes swollen and puffy. It was clear to him immediately that you hadn't been sleeping and you hadn't been taking care of yourself.
"Hey," he said softly, feeling like he was trying to coax a stray dog into his car, "How are you?"
Stupid. Dumb question. Especially when the answer was written all over you.
You crossed your arms, "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"
He raised his eyebrows, "Shouldn't you?"
"I'm sick."
Jack hummed, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe I can take a look at you since I'm here."
You sighed and shook your head, "I don't understand why you're here."
He tilted his head, "You don't?"
Your eyes grew wet and you sniffled, "Are you here to fire me? Is that it?"
"No," He said softly, "Of course not. I'm here because I'm worried about you. Why're you calling out? Is it me? You don't wanna see me? Because I canāI can talk to Robby and see if we can move you to his shift, but I don't want you throwing your career awayā"
"I don't want to work on Robby's shift, but IāI have a hard time even looking at you right now," You looked up and screwed your mouth to the side, the way you sometimes did when you were trying to stifle an emotion. He waited, though he was hanging on your every word, "I'mā¦ mortified by how I acted when I left. IāI shut down I was too drunk and I got scaredā"
"Scared of what, honey?"
Your lip wobbled, "Scared of loving someone again, of giving someone else the chance to hurt me."
Oh. Jack's heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Your mother had said something similar to him just a few days ago, but after sobering up and the repeated call outs, he assumed she'd gotten it wrong.
"It's stupid and you probably don't even feel like that about meā"
"I'm gonna stop you right there," He said and stepped towards you. He reached a hand up to stroke your cheek, thumb swiping at the tears just below your eyes, "I am madly in love with you."
You hiccuped, bringing up your hand to rest on Jack's wrist, anchoring him to you, "Really?"
He nodded, "And IāI can't promise you that it'll never hurt, I'mā¦not the easiest to love. I'm old and sad and stubborn and probably have more PTSD triggers than the number of years you've been alive. But I won't ever treat you the way he treated you," He reached his pinky up between you, "That I can promise."
You wrapped your pinky around his and then used your intertwined hands to pull him closer and rested your forehead against his, "I don't think you're hard to love at all. I think I'd be very lucky to love and be loved by you, Jack Abbot."
He sighed shakily against your mouth before kissing you. You'd kissed before, but this felt transformative. As his mouth moved against yours, warm and soft and pliant, he felt overcome by how much he loved youāSomething he didn't think he'd get to feel again after his wife passed. But when he was with you, it felt like he was starting over. Like maybe he could step in the light of the sun again and not get burned.
With a groan, he pulled away from you, breathless and euphoric, "I don't want to be presumptuous, butā¦ may I come inside?"
You smiled and looked away shyly, "Iā¦ was not prepared for guests I know how neurotic you are."
He gaped at you, eyebrows raised, "I am not neurotic."
You laughed and stepped aside, allowing him a path inside, "I give you thirty seconds before you hightail it out of here."
Jack barely made it past the entryway. There was clutter everywhere, the kitchen sink was full of dirty dishes, towels and clothes in varying states of clean and dirty littered the floors and hung over the doors.
He could tolerate mess, really, he could. But this level of mess reminded him of living with three other men in college, something he promised himself once he had the money he'd never live with again. He could not fathom wooing you and taking you to bed in this pit of entropy.
"You still love me?" You asked, voice small.
He gave a surprised laugh and ran a hand through his hair, resting at the back of his neck, "Yes, but we're leaving. Pack a bag."
"Where are we going?"
"You're staying with me tonight," He eyed your overflowing trashcan, a takeout container perched precariously on top of it, "Maybe forever," he added softly.
He helped you pack, dismissing every embarrassed apology you threw his way about the state of your apartment. He had been to your place before when you lived with David, once, after your miscarriage when you ended up needing surgery. He remembered the place had been neat and tidyānot sterile, but cozy. The state of your apartment didn't worry him, it was simply a manifestation of your mental health as of late. Something that was fixable. And fix it he wouldālater.
Once at back at his place, Jack immediately started running you a bath. He had copious amounts of epsom salts to ease his muscles, especially his leg, and he poured these in while the hot water ran. You stood in the threshold of the door alternating between watching him and taking in his house.
"When was the last time you ate anything other than Doordash?" He asked, gently tugging you by the hands fully into the bathroom.
"Um, I don'tā" You sighed, "I don't remember."
"I'm gonna make you dinner," he said softly, thumb running over your lower lip, "Do you like bolognese?"
You bit your lip as you looked up into his face, "You don't have to do that."
He shrugged, "I want to. If it makes you feel better I was gonna make it for myself anyway when I got off shift." He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your mouth, "Do you want a glass of wine while you're in the bath?"
"Sure," You smiled, and when he went to step around you, you squeezed his hand, "Jack?" He turned back to you, question in his eyes, "Could you stay with me while I'm in the bath?"
He smiled softly and walked back over to you, kissing you a bit deeper, worrying your lower lip between his teeth before pulling away, "Of course."
***
It felt a bit surreal, sitting in Jack's bath with a glass of red wine in your hand and the man himself staring at you with adoration as you soaked. This morning when you'd woken up you'd contemplated moving across the country so you'd never have to see him again. Now you were in his home and he'd told you he was in love with you.
You were still afraid, terrified really, of giving him the power to hurt you. It wasn't something that could be turned off so easilyābut still, you trusted him. There was a persistent voice at the back of your head that reminded you you had trusted David at one point as well. But with Jack, it felt different. With David, even when you trusted him, there was an anxiety, a resentment, quietly brewing in the background. With Jack you felt only peace.
Your legs were thrown over the lip of the tub and the hungry look in Jack's eyes as he eyed them was not lost on you.
"You can touch, if you want," You said quietly.
His eyes dragged up to yours and then he smirked, "Is that why you asked me to stay?"
You sank lower beneath the water and shrugged, "Maybe."
His fingers tread carefully along your skin, at first kneading gently at your feet. You couldn't help the groan of contentment that escaped you almost immediately at his touch. It had been a long time since someone had touched you so lovingly.
Soon, you felt his lips at your ankle, pressing featherlight kisses along your leg as his hands traveled further upāUntil they dipped beneath the water.
Your eyes stayed locked on his as his calloused fingers ran slowly up your thigh, your breaths quickening.
Slowly, he ran his tongue along his lips as his fingers reached the apex of your thighs, "You sure?" He asked, and his voice was rough and husky.
When you nodded, you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and beneath the water his fingers parted your lips. He began slowly, gently circling your clit as you sighed and arched your back. When you began whining beneath his touch, he pushed a finger inside you and you moaned in earnest as he slowly and gently curled it upward, thrusting in and out of you.
His fingers felt so good, warming you up and stretching you out, but you needed more. Your hands wandered up your torso until the cupped your breasts and you began pulling and pinching at your nipples.
"Fuck," Jack cursed and you watched as he palmed the bulge in his pants with his free hand, "You're gonna fuckin' kill me, kid."
Already, with Jack's fingers inside you, you were embarassingly close to the edge. You hadn't slept with David since before the miscarriage, so it had been something like two years since you'd been with someone. Since anyone had touched you with desire.
"You close, sweetheart?" Jack cooed, "You wanna come on my fingers?"
"Mmm," You whined, "Please, Jack."
There would be time for slow, for teasing, for edging later, you thought. Much later. Now you were ravenous for him. Altogether you thought it had only taken him about two minutes to get you to unravel on his fingers, and when you did, crying out, he hummed appreciatively, "You're so gorgeous when you come for me, baby."
As soon as Jack pulled his hand away from you, you were standing up. Jack laughed in surprise, "Where are you going?"
"Need you to fuck me," You said shortly, "Can't do that in here."
"Oh," Jack said, seeming surprised, and you watched as a flush worked its way into his cheeks, "You want toāNow?"
Getting cold now, you lowered yourself back down into the water, "Do you not want to?"
"NoāNo, of course I do. I'm just, umā" He shook his head quickly, "āIt's been aālong time for me."
You nodded, "Me too."
He sighed and hung his head, "No, I mean, I haven't slept with anyone. The last person I slept with was my wife."
Ah. Well, that was quite a bit longer than you. Still, it didn't bother you, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," You said slowly, "I hope that goes without saying. But I'm not going to be judging you on performance, Jack. I just want to be close to you right now."
He looked back up at you, a hesitant smile on his face, "I wanna be close to you, too."
Jack held your hand as you climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around you, kissing you tenderly as he helped you dry off. But his kisses became hungry, sloppy as the two of you maneuvered to the bedroom, his hands wandering to your hips and ass.
"God, you're so sexy," he murmured into your mouth. You licked into his in response, making every kiss impossibly deeper and hungrier, like you wanted to consume him.
When the back of his legs hit the bed, you dropped to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with wide eyes as you began unbuckling his belt. From this angle, from any angle, he was gorgeous to you, but he bit his lip now as he watched you free his cock and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the sight of it.
He hissed when his cock sprung free and you wordlessly tugged him down to sitting on the edge of the bed as you admired him. He was thick and leaking, a patch of graying curls at the base, beautiful. You were practically salivating at the sight of it. Taking him in your hand, you lapped at his tip, taking his precum onto your tongue. Immediately, he was groaning and you watched him fist the sheets.
Looking up at him, you took one of his hands, watched it uncurl from the bed and placed it on the back of your head, "I want to feel how desperate you are for me," You said, looking up at him. He looked a bit helpless, almost stunned, and you nodded at him, eyebrows raised, "Okay?"
Finally, he nodded. This time, when you took him in your mouth, his hand gripped you. As you found a rhythm, bottoming out with him hitting the back of your throat, you were pleased when his hips began bucking into your mouth, his hand guiding your head on and off his cock.
After a couple of minutes of this, Jack groaned and gently pushed you off him, "Come up here," he said softly and watched carefully as you wiped the spit from your mouth with your arm and rose to standing.
He kissed you greedily and began to pull you into his lap, but you pulled away slightly, "Can we take all this off, please?" You tugged lightly at the shirt he was still wearing and his half off pants, "Want to see all of you."
Already nodding, he pulled his t-shirt over his head. You knelt back down to the floor to help him take his prosthetic off so the pants could come off too.
With everything off, Jack pushed himself backwards towards the pillows and you admired him from the foot of the bed for a moment. He was as broad chested as you imagined, covered in freckles you wished to connect like constellations. He was muscled, but soft around the middle, a generous happy trail that you longed to lick in its entirety.
You shook your head, almost at a loss for words, "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."
Jack blushed, but rolled his eyes and shook his head immediately, "Stop that, my body'sāIt's not what it used to be."
You shook your head, "I'm sure you were gorgeous then, too, but you'reā" You bit your lip, "I wanna lick every inch of you."
You crawled over to him and straddled his hips, hands wandering eagerly across the planes of his chest while you ground your slick folds over his cock. Jack groaned appreciatively, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, "Fuck, you're so wet," You dragged your folds along the length of him again and he sighed, "That all for me, sweetheart?"
You nodded, eyelids fluttering as you rubbed your clit against him, over and over.
"You wanna come again, baby? Rubbing your clit on my cock like that?" He lightly slapped your ass and you moaned, quickening your pass to chase the friction.
You were close again, could feel your impending orgasm just on the cusp and Jack saw it all over your face, "Go on, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock."
His praise easily pushed you over the edge, Jack continuing to forcefully move your hips along his length as you came down.
With a hand on the back of your neck, Jack pulled you down to kiss him again, "So good," he mumbled, "feel so good."
Gently, he maneuvered you off of him and positioned you so you were on your side, you back to him, as if you were spooning. Flexing his left leg over your hips for purchase, he pushed inside you slowly from behind, the stretch of him making your eyes roll back into your head.
He kissed the back of your neck, "I'māI'm not gonna last long like this, fuckā"
"That's okay," You ran a hand down his thigh and rocked your hips back into him, "We can go again later."
He chuckled and then started rocking into you fully, cursing occasionally or biting down on your shoulder hard enough that you were sure it would bruise later. Jack was overwhelming every one of your senses as he thrust in and out of you and you were being very vocal about. So loud, in fact, that Jack reached around and stuffed his fingers in your mouth and ordered you to suck on them as if they were his cock. This quieted you, but only just.
As you moaned around his fingers, he began slamming into you with more force, the sound of his hips snapping into yours filling the air until he stuttered and you felt him fill into you, warm and wet.
The two of you were panting as he finished, hips slowing until they stopped completely. After a moment of recovery, Jack tightened his arms around you and kissed up the side of your neck, "Are you alright? Was that okay?"
You almost laughed, "'Okay'? It was incredible. How was it for you?"
"Yeah," He said, kissing your shoulders, "About the same."
For a long while, the two of you laid there in the quiet, just holding one anotherāUntil your stomach rumbled.
Chuckling, Jack ran a hand over your stomach, "Let's go make you dinner, sweetheart."
***
With the dishes cleared and your stomachs full, you had gotten ready for bed in Jack's en suite bathroom. When you walked back into the bedroom, he was under the covers, his face lit up with the blue light from the TV. When you climbed into bed next to him, you looked to see a baseball game on.
"Do you mind this? I can change the channelā"
You yawned and shook your head as you snuggled up next to him, throwing an arm over is chest, "I'm gonna pass out probably in the next five minutes, so, no need."
He hummed and ran a hand over your back, "Well I was planning on working tonight so I might be awake for a while longer."
"That's okay," You burrowed your nose into his neck, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, "As long as you stay here with me."
He kissed the top of your head, "No place else I'd rather be."
As you fell asleep, Jack kept looking back down at you, as if to check if you were still there. Every so often, he'd touch your face or kiss your head and you'd hum in contentment.
With you sleeping in his arms like this, he began to fantasize of another wedding, a couple of years from now. The dream wedding you'd always wanted, but didn't get the first time. He could practically see it, you in a white dress, him watching you walk down the aisle to him.
Both of you beginning a new chapter together, starting over. He didn't think he'd ever get to be a husband again. But with you warm and safe in his bed, he thought he'd very much like to be yours.
Leaning over you, Jack kissed your cheek and then whispered in your ear, "I love you."
Still half asleep, you murmured back, "Love you."
For the first time in a long time, Jack Abbot was looking forward to the sun rising and a new day beginning.
summary: after an exhausting shift, jack comes home to a chaotic, love-filled morning with you and his june-bug full off stickt breakfast, june's mischeif, and the comfort that makes everything he does worth it.
pairing: girl dad!jack abbot + reader
word count: 1.2k
warnings/tags: girl dad!jack, june abbot return (i love her), fluff flufffff
notes: based on this ask from anon, tysm for requesting!
reblogs, likes, and comments are so so appreciated! if you want to read more from me, kindly submit in my inbox !!! xoxo
Jack peeled off his gloves with a tired snap, tossing them into the bin by the door. His scrubs were wrinkled, his stubble was edging into beard territory, and his shoulder carried with exhaustion.
The drive home was a blur of fading streelights and empty roads, the kind of quiet that made his eyelids heavy. He rolled the window down anyway, letting the damp morning air slap him awake.
The farmhouse was another fifteen minutes out, tucked behind a bend in the road where the trees got thicker and the cell service got spotty.
He could already picture the porch light left on for him, the way it was always, even though he'd told you and June a hundred times you two didn't need to wait up.
He finally turned onto the gravel drive, tires crunching under him like a heartbeat. Making his way to the front steps, he called out, "Baby? June?"
A tiny blur in footie pajamas launched herself from inside with a shriek that could've woken the neighbors--if you had any.
"Papa!"
Jack barely had time to drop his bag before June collided with his legs, her little arms wrapping around his prosthetic like a vice. He laughed, scooping her up in one motion, her warmth already seeping into the cold places the hospital had left in him.
"Hey, sprout. You're up early."
Her feet kicked against his scrubs, still damp from the morning dew, as she wriggled in his arms like an overexcited puppy. "Papa, papa, look!"
She thrust a crumpled dandelion into his face, its petals half-smashed from whatever adventure she'd been on before hearing her name. They smudges on her cheek suggested she'd tried to taste it first.
Jack pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. "That's so pretty, baby. You pick that all by yourself?"
Behind them, the screen door creaked open again. You leaned against the frame, your robe loosely tied. "She's been boring herself out since 5 AM," you said.
Jack shifted June to one hip, looking at you with a silent I miss you.
June, meanwhile, had zero interest in subtle affection. She grabbed fistfuls of his scrubs, her face suddenly serious.
"Papa. Chickens." As if this explained everything. Jack blinked.
You snorted. "Oh right, that's todays crisis. The chickens stole her shoes."
June nodded, her curls bouncing. "Bad chickens, papa."
Jack bit back a laugh. He couold see the crime scene now, her tiny shoes probably dragged into the coop. "We'll steal them back after breakfast," he promised, bouncing her lightly.
"But first, do I smell pancakes?" The resulting squeal nearly ruptured his eardrum.
June scrambled down his body like a squirrel fleeing a predator, her bare feet hitting the gravel with a slap before she took off toward the house.
"Pancakes! Pancakes!" she chanted, her voice ricocheting off the trees as she vanished through the screen door.
Jack watched her go, the ache in his shoulders softening into something lighter.
You arched an eyebrow at him holding out a mug of coffee. "You look like you wrestled a bear," she said, and he took the coffee with a grateful hum, letting the heat seep into his palms.
Inside, the kitchen was warm and smelled like vanilla and butter, the kind of scent that could convince a man he'd walked into heaven after a long shift.
June was already perched on the counter, swinging her legs and pointing imperiously at the batter-splattered mixing bowl.
"More blue," she demanded, as if pancakes were a canvas and she their tiny, very loud artist.
Jack leaned against the fridge, watching you drizzle another drop of food coloring into the mix, the batter swirling into a shade of turquoise that would probably glow in the dark.
"Thought you were against artificially colored food," he teased, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate cooling on the stove.
"Desperate times," you deadpanned, nodding toward June, who was now attempting to stick her entire hand into the bowl. "She declared a war when I tried to make them brown."
June, sensing she was the topic of conversation, grinned up at them, her teeth smeared with stolen batter.
Jack reached over to wipe her chin with his thumb, and she promptly bit himānot hard, just the kind of exploratory nibble toddlers seemed to think was an acceptable greeting.
"Ow," he said mildly, shaking his hand like it was a life-altering injury. June gasped, her eyes going wide with theatrical remorse. "Oh no! Kiss it!" she insisted, grabbing his wrist and pressing her sticky mouth to his knuckles with a loud mwah.
The screen door slapped shut behind them as Jack followed you into the chaos of the kitchen, where syrup had already found its way onto the ceiling somehowāa mystery for another time.
June was now perched on the counter like a tiny monarch, waving a wooden spoon like a scepter. "Papa stir!" she commanded, thrusting the spoon at him with such authority that he nearly saluted.
Jack took the spoon, but not before swiping another piece of baconāthis time earning a full-handed smear of blue batter across his forearm from you.
"Hey," he protested, licking the batter off with exaggerated relish. "I'm a professional. This is workplace harassment." You rolled your eyes but the corner of your mouth twitched.
"Tell it to the union," you said, nodding toward June who was now attempting to climb onto Jack's shoulders via his scrub top.
The kid's bare feet dug into his ribs as she hauled herself up, her sticky fingers gripping his hair like climbing ropes. "Up-up-up!" she chanted, as if he were a jungle gym and not a man running on three hours of sleep and questionable coffee.
Jack groaned, but hoisted her onto his shoulders anyway, her delighted squeal bouncing off the kitchen walls. From her new throne, she immediately began directing pancake operations with the intensity of a wartime general.
"More blue," she insisted, pointing at the bowl. "More sparkles."
Jack shot you a look. "Sparkles?" he mouthed. You held up a jar of edible glitter with the resigned expression of a woman who had long since surrendered to the whims of a three-year-old.
"It was this or letting her put googly eyes on them," she whispered, shaking a generous amount into the batter. The resulting shimmer was frankly alarming.
Jack opened his mouth to protest, but June's gasp of pure joy shut him up instantly. Her tiny hands clapped against his forehead. "Magic pancakes!" she declared, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
Jackās shoulders sagged under the weight of his daughterās glee, but he couldnāt suppress the grin tugging at his lips. "Magic pancakes, huh?"
He twisted his neck to glance up at her, her curls bouncing as she nodded with solemn certainty. "The most magic," she confirmed, patting his head like he was a particularly slow student.
Breakfast was a chaotic symphony of sticky hands, glitter-strewn plates, and the baby monitor crackling with the sounds of their youngest babbling to himself upstairs.
Jackās coffee went cold somewhere between his daughter insisting he wear a syrup mustache ("Now youāre a cowboy, Papa!") and you attempting to discreetly scrape the worst of the glitter off her own pancakes.
He didnāt mind. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window painted everything in gold, and for the first time in twelve hours, the tension in his shoulders unraveled completely.
thank you for reaching until the end! i'd love to know what you thought about this story anddddd if you'd like to see more ;)
Warnings: idiots who love each other but just canāt tell each other, fluff, Smurf!, baz!!, drunk confessions, steamy makeout?, italics, flashbacks are the same size font but in bold, and italics if you get confused.
~
You had known the Codyās almost your whole life. You followed Craig around like a lost puppy since you were 6ā¦youāre 27 now.
Growing up with Smurfās boys roughed you up for sure, but you still managed to keep your sweet disposition and soft smile.
You werenāt anything like them, a beautiful rose standing out in a garden of thorns and weeds. Perhaps thatās what drew the oldest son towards you the most.
āYou know, youāre brothers pretty stupid..ā
āI know. I live with him. Why do you hang around him?ā
āDunno, heās funny and he protects me, more than my brothers have ever done.ā
That had been the first time you ever spoke to him..the way you initiated the conversation, unlike anyone else who knew the Codyās, who knew āPope,ā wouldāve instantly shied away from, eased something in his spirit that day.
You were different.
Andrew didnāt know anything about you, just that you were a small girl who somehow found sanctity in his stupid younger brother. Why? He wouldnāt know the answer to that if you asked him or gave him all the money in the world. He just knew he somehow wanted to be that for you, also.
āSo basically this asshole comes up to me and starts like, puffing his chest, trying to be all Macho ān shitā¦ā You had been listening to this story for what felt like hours. Craig constantly getting cut off by Daren calling him and idiot, arguing over the technicalities of the night you three had gone out.
Between his bump breaks and the interruptions, you had tuned him out. You loved your best friend, you did, truly, but you just couldnāt stand to listen to him tell stories most of the time.
Your eyes dragged across the living room you basically grew up in, scanning the room of the people left. You had a small āfamilyā get together, Smurf cooking more food than anyone can eat.
Baz had taken off, huffing about picking up Lena from her babysitters, an annoyed look on his face the whole way to the kitchen to discard his empty beer bottle, to the front door, and youāre pretty sure the whole way to Lena.
Smurf had said her good nights to everyone, off to drink herself to sleep. J was curled next to you, drunk and laughing his night away to Craigās story, Daren fighting with his brother right next to J, and then youāre eyes landed on a certain someone, a quiet someone.
Your eyes landed on his stoic expression, his gaze unwavering from already being on you. His big hand clamped against the neck of the beer bottle heād been babysitting for the last hour. It was too warm to enjoy by now.
Your cheeks grew hot, turning the faintest shade of pink. To him, it contrasted perfectly with the shade of your eyes and the soft yellow sundress you had been wearing today.
He couldnāt take his eyes off the way your necklace sat perfectly in the hollow of your neck, the shiny silver heart-shaped locketāthe one he had given you as a gift many, many years back.
Andrew wasnāt much of giver. More like blind follower to whatever his mom and brothers needed of him. To be used to get the hard jobs out the way. To be the weapon of choice when they needed someone to risk everything.
He supposed you could call him a giver, the way heād give his life for the people around him, like he did when he got locked up. But he didnāt complain. Heād give his life, his freedom, for themā¦for you.
Thatās why he was determined to make your 15th birthday so special.
He had known you for 9 years. Enough time to fall enamored to everything that had to do with you, everything you touched, every interest you had. He had heard you mention a locket your grandmother had given you before she passed, before things got so bad with your family. You had lost it at the beach when you went surfing with them 3 months prior to your birthday.
You had moped around the Cody house for weeks, a frown on your face that was so sad, he swore it affected the weather. It didnāt, but you were the biggest ray of sunshine, his sunshine in his dark, gloomy world. He was determined to bring the sun back, the beaming smile that took up your whole face.
Which is why on a job Smurf had sent him on, he made sure to bring you something back. Hence the silver metal heart shaped necklace clutched in his hand as he walked back up the driveway.
He sped off to his room, urgently trying to put a small gift box together just for you. His folds on the pink bow crisp, the precision in which he wrote a small note for you.
He went above and beyond for this gift. He didnāt know why exactly he was putting in so much effort. You had been a close friend, family if you will. He didnāt even do this much for his brothers. But again, you were different.
He would never forget the small gasp that left your lips when you opened the small gift box, the way you took the time to read the note place on top the wrapping paper first. Like his words would mean something to you.
They did. You had always felt different about Andrew. Yes, he was the oldest, he probably saw you as a little sister, the little annoyance of a girl who just followed his annoyance of a little brother around. You didnāt think he saw you, noticed you, listened to you.
Thinking about every small conversation, the lingering glances, and the shared stories was just his way of trying to be normal. Trying to make you feel welcomed in his home. You thought they were just him trying to not scare off his little brother's friends. It happened more than he can count.
Not until you peeled the wrapping paper back, the reflective light coming from the shiny rounded heart placed neatly in the middle of the box.
You gasped softly, eyes prickling with tears because this was the most thoughtful gift you couldāve ever been given. He heard you mention this to Craig, he was listening.
You looked up, beaming before throwing your arms around his neck, whispering small āthank youāsā and āitās beautifulā into his neck. He didnāt know what to do at first, shocked by the burst of affection, he only ever got a small wave in passing. He kept his distance to not scare you off.
But you wanted it. So he wrapped his arms around you, eventually giving you a small āyouāre welcome.ā
He knew he wanted to chase this feeling forever.
You looked away from him, towards the commotion of laughter. You giggled at the normalcy. The sense of security a night like this provided you. The boys haven't had this in months. Nothing to worry about, no jobs that had to be done. Nowhere to be. Just here.
You sighed, tapping J, signalling your moving to the kitchen. You walked to the fridge, grabbing another beer. You could sense another person following you here, already knowing it was your Pope. So you grabbed another.
You turned and smiled at the man, glad you had been right. "Here. Beats the warm one you haven't touched." You extended it to him, his fingers brushing yours softly when he took it.
"Thanks." His eyes scanned yours. The act already making you feel fuzzy in all the right places. "You look beautiful." His eyes dropped to the ground. Not being able to look you in the eyes long enough without wanting to confess every little feeling he's had about you since you two were kids.
"Thank you, Andrew. You don't look too shabby yourself." You giggled, poking his side softly. He flinched away from the touch, a smile creeping its way to the corners of his mouth. "You can stop being shy, y'know? We've only known each other for my whole life."
"Technically, since you were 6 and I was 15."
"Yeah, my life I consider worth remembering started when I met you." The words slipped. Almost making your heart palpitate at what you just confessed. You weren't lying. Yes, you met your best friend, and you never felt more alive when you started hanging around, having someone to belong to. But Andrew definitely had a role in that, too.
He blushed at your confession. Hoping in some way you really meant what you said, that he was the one who made your childhood memorable. It was selfish to think he had any part in it, knowing he saw you glued to Craig's side every waking moment of your middle school and high school years. He would just watch and observe, but after you graduated, you started to drift closer to everyone. Him especially.
"Yeah? Don't let Craig hear you say that; he might cry a little." He smiled softly at you. The warm lighting in the kitchen makes your hair glisten, your eyes sparkle, and you look more beautiful than he thinks he's ever seen you. Impossible, he thought.
"Don't let me hear what?" Craig walked in, you and Andrew too enamored in your little bubble you hadn't even heard him walk in.
"Oh, nothing. Andrew was just confessing his undying love for me." You rolled your eyes at your best friend, giggling at the fact Pope's eyes grew wide, his cheeks turning an ungodly shade of red, the red quickly spreading to the tips of his ears and the expanse of his neck.
You liked messing with him every now and then. Teasing him about liking you, hoping he'd mention anything, even give you the tiniest hint that he felt the same way about you. You fought every fiber in your body to not confess that you had been in love with him ever since you were 15. Going away to college seemed like a lifetime because you had been so far away.
That was when he went to prison. You had written him letters and made sure he knew you were thinking about him all the time and that you couldn't wait for him to come home. So you could have him back. You never sent them, the letters collecting dust in a small box on the top shelf of your closet. There was no way you'd be able to address and send the letter telling him you loved him and that you'd wait for him 'til he got home.
Granted, that would've been easier when you wouldn't have to look him in the eye while he rejected his little brother's best friend. "Oh, no shit. It's about time, Pope. Couldn't take the puppy dog look you get every time she's in a 100-mile radius of you, anymore." He said it so nonchalantly you almost believed him.
He grabbed another beer and smiled at the two of you before laughing. "Aw, come on, Pope. Don't get all shy now. You never were good at hiding it."
"Shut up, man. Don't you gotta find Renn and do some drugs together? Or whatever it is you two do." He tried his best to not strangle his brother for revealing a secret he never even shared. What made it even more unbelievable was that you started it.
Was he hallucinating that maybe you wanted this too? Maybe you had the same feelings for him that he harboured for you. No. It couldn't be. There was no shot you felt the same way.
Craig disappeared, leaving you and Andrew in complete silence. The tension and small indirect confession hanging in the air. "'It's about time,' huh? What does that mean?" You tilted your head to the side, stirring a feeling in Pope's chest.
"Nothing, he's an idiot." He shook his head, eyes down at the floor at your guys' feet. Anything was better to look at than your silent rejection of him. He could handle rejection, just not from you. He refused to see that.
You were feeling brave. You opened your beer, handing the bottle opener to Andrew. You took a big swig, the liquid leaving a cold trail down your throat. A good contrast to your body radiating heat whenever you're in a 100-mile radius of Pope. Being this close was making it feel like you're overheating. You don't know if it was because you were already 7 beers deep from the night, or if it's because you so desperately wanted to believe that what Craig was insinuating, was true. You hoped it would be.
"Aw, that's a shame. Maybe I just won't say anything back then." You shrugged, brushing your hand on his shoulder as you passed him. He heard the sliding door open, turning his head slightly to watch you walk outside, before he turned and followed you out.
You left the door open for him, hoping he'd follow, and he did. He sat right next to you on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. He took a drink from his beer, almost chugging it to calm whatever resolve he seemed to be losing as your dress hiked up higher on your thighs when you bent your knees, lying up looking at the sky.
"What did you mean?" He couldn't help but pry. His mind gets set on one thing, and he needs to see it through. See this through. His stomach dropped when you walked away from him, hoping whatever you had to say would be good. Would be just what he wanted to hear. That you needed him just like he needed you. That you felt the way he did about you. That you loved him.
"You remember when it was senior prom? Craig had taken Renn, leaving me hanging, and then Deran took the girl down the street because she wouldn't leave him alone for weeks, about wanting to go with him?" You smiled from your position on the chair fondly at the memory.
You had told Craig that you two would go together, but when Renn came along, you insisted that he take her instead of dragging you. You figured since he liked her so much, he should go with her. Especially because he was already flunking out, and you needed him to have this one thing. It was the least you could do, considering Renn is sneaking him in because he couldn't even attend the function. That left you alone, almost ready to abandon the whole dance altogether.
You were sitting on Smurf's bed, teary-eyed, wondering why no guy had asked to go with you. You figured that since you told people you and Craig would go together, they backed off.
"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" You sniffled as Smurf was rummaging through her closet for whatever it was she seemed to be putting into a suitcase. She paused and turned to you slowly.
"You have always been the most confident young woman I've ever seen. What makes you say that?" She smiled at you, not a genuine smile, just something she assumed would appease the melodramatics you were putting her through. At least that was her word for it.
"It's just no one has asked me to go with them. I spent my savings on that stupid dress, and I can't even return it." You threw her a shirt she had taken off before you came in, and sighed and flopped on the bed.
"I can go with you." Your head shot up, finding Pope standing in the doorway of Smurf's room. He had come to visit and hadn't seen or heard anyone until he walked further into the house.
He didn't know why he offered. It was a high school dance he didn't even go to. Not because no one would've gone with him had he kept going to school, but he just hated the sad look on your face while you mentioned this to Smurf.
"Are you serious? You'd go for me?" You smiled at him, already getting up to get ready, sniffling the tears away.
"Yeah, I'd do whatever you wanted me to." The corner of his lips turned up, Smurf in disbelief and disdain that some other woman had the power to make Pope do whatever it was they wanted. She knew you'd be a problem, but that definitely was a problem for another day.
"Oh my god, Andrew. I love you." You squealed loudly as you hugged him and ran down the hall to the guest room you've been taking space in ever since you've been hanging around. As your footsteps departed, he couldn't shake the intense feeling he had when he heard those words leave your lips.
"I do remember that night." He looked at the sky and recalled how he offered to take you to the dance he seemed not to give one shit about...but he gave a shit for you.
"I don't think I ever heard the end of how I brought a hot older boyfriend to prom." You laughed, telling him how people talked about "your hot older boyfriend." You didn't change their minds and tell them it was just because you had no date; you let them call him your boyfriend because that was your sick way of manifesting him that way.
"They thought I was hot?" He laughed quietly, something he only seemed to do with you. He blushed at that thought. Belonging to you. He only ever wanted to feel this free and laugh like this with you, forever.
"That's what you're focused on? That they called my boyfriend hot?" You knew what you said and how you worded it, but you didn't care. You want him to believe this is real. It is real.
"Thanks for doing this, by the way. You didn't have to." You told him, arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on your waist. You two were dancing the last slow dance of the night. You dragged him to the dance floor, and he just followed.
"I already told you. I'd do whatever you wanted me to do. Didn't want you to miss out on a big night." He shrugged like it was normal. The insatiable need to give you everything you wanted and desired in this world. That was normal to him.
"Yeah, but you're 28 at a stupid high school dance, with your 18-year-old friend." You sighed, suddenly feeling very insecure for dragging Andrew with you. He deserved to have all the good things in the world for this. You'd make sure of it.
"Doesn't matter. Just wanted to see you happy." He looked at you, your smile beaming, hearing those words from him. You loved him dearly. Even more so for doing this for you.
"You're too good to me, Andrew. Thank you." You whispered as you got on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek softly. You pulled away slowly, your feet setting slowly back down, your faces inches apart.
This isn't how he wanted to do this, how he wanted it to happen. So, he just squeezed your waist softly in his hands, nodding a small 'you're welcome.'
He wouldn't forget the smile on your face that day. Or the way your lips felt on his cheek.
"Your boyfriend?" He was puzzled why you didn't correct yourself. If you even meant to.
"Well, at the time, you were." You tipped your beer bottle towards his direction, eyes raking over the side of his face. His freckles were well hidden in the night, but you spent so much of your life admiring this man, you memorized them and could tell anyone where they belonged right now.
"How about now?" He ripped his eyes away from the moon hanging above you, instead watching how its light cast itself on your face, adorning your features, and he's never once felt so jealous of something in his life. The way the light atomically touched you, and he is just subjected to watching.
"What are you saying?" Your breath was suddenly escaping your lungs as you tried very hard to contain yourself and the wild butterfly cage in your belly and chest. You knew what he meant; you just wanted to hear the words. You needed the confirmation.
"You think I could ever be your boyfriend now? Now that we're both...older?" He was stupidly shy all of a sudden under your intense stare. He was shy, but he couldn't take looking at you like he needed you, knowing he couldn't have you.
If you rejected him now, maybe he could get over this. This hold you appeared to have on him. At least this way, he could admire you for however much time he had left alone with you tonight.
He sat there waiting for the rejection to hit him. To be the final blow to this devastating fight he'd been in with himself.
"Andrew, are you asking to be my boyfriend?" Your voice low, unsteady.
Here it comes, he thought. "If you'd let me." He sighed deeply, the alcohol buzz not doing jack for the insane anxiety he was feeling.
"What took you so long?" That he didn't expect. Came as a surprising shock when you were looking at him the way you were. Eyes wide and sparkling, it was shocking when you giggled your way next to him, sliding your legs across his lap, when you stared at him like he hung the moon and stars above you while wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Is that a yes?" He whispered, respectfully placing his hand on the side of your thigh, the other swiping a stray strand of hair that had fallen perfectly in your face.
You leaned in carefully, not to startle him. He closed the distance, his lips brushing yours softly for a small peck. You pulled away before his hand moved from next to your face to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling themselves into the strands and pulling you in closer, quicker, and desperately.
You smiled into the kiss, grabbing at his bicep to the hand that seemed to be inching higher up the side of your thigh. You pulled him closer, your tongue sliding against his bottom lip, asking for entrance.
He whimpered a little into the kiss, opening his mouth to accept your soft tongue against his. His hand left the nape of your neck, dragging lower to encase your body into his. He pulled you into his lap, breaking the kiss for a second to catch his breath against you.
"You look so beautiful." He sighed, his hands having a mind of their own. Not knowing where to go but travel every part of you he can see. His eyes scanning your face, looking for any hint of disproval that you don't actually want this. That you might leave now that he's opened up.
"You already said that." You smiled widely, kissing his lips once more, any doubt he had been feeling or searching for, melting away. He's wanted this, you have wanted this, and now you both finally have it.
"I'll tell you as many times as I want to for as long as I want to." He gasped as he looked into your eyes, silently devoting himself to you and making that promise right here. His lips started on the side of your neck, but his fervent moves led him all the way back to your lips. He nipped at your bottom lip gently, eliciting an excited yelp, that seemed to attract attention.
You two break apart when you hear the 'whoops' and cheers from inside. Looking over, you two see Craig and Deran clapping and high-fiving while smiling at you two, and J sliding Deran a twenty for what appeared to be a bet.
Embarrassed, Pope hid his face in your chest, attempting to hide himself behind you, since you can clearly block his view of inside the house since you're on his lap.
"Looks like they were betting on us, baby." You giggle, grabbing his face, peppering kisses all over his face, anywhere you can reach.
"Assholes." He wanted to be amused by the bet, but all he seemed to care about was how you wanted to be his, and he got the privilege to be yours and walk the earth for you.
"Can't hate them though. I, myself, was about to start my own, for when you would finally be able to say something before I did." You pinched him playfully, knowing you wouldn't have held out much longer anyway.
You wanted to spend the rest of your life with one person who understood you, who would do anything for you like you would for them, and the only person you'd accept was sitting right in front of you. The one man you wouldn't dare walk away from.
The same man who haunted your dreams, who took up all the thoughts in your head, and stole your heart that night when you were 15. You'd be damned if you think anyone could take him from you now. Now he was safe, he was seen, and he was loved...here, with you.
He served his sentence in prison, did his three years away from you, the most excruciating three years of his life. If he were to be sentenced to a lifetime of serving you, being your man, being the person you called for anything else in the future, he'd be damned to a life sentence. And he'd serve that sentence in every lifetime.
listening to shawn hatosy call me a good girl and then saying i donāt have to beg for him to fuck me before eating me out wasnāt in my 2026 bingo card but iām not exactly complaining
