Burnt out but still here @roses-n-rads - Tumblr Blog

roses-n-rads

mcthsman

Aug 4

matchbox20s

Stupid Song

“dream of you from like 1:00 to 4:00

positively and truly sure nobody's wanted somebody more”

jack abbot x fem! reader

summary: dana has watched you and jack circle each other for too long and devises a secret plan to make sure you end up on a date together without either of you expecting it

tags/warning/tropes: this is pure fluff, the pitt but it’s somewhere between a sitcom and a rom-com, speaking of there are SO many references of rom-coms, jack abbot is down bad, idiots in love, don’t ask why dana robby and jack are all there at once, reader gets wine drunk a few times, jack abbot being down bad pt 2 because it’s honestly embarrassing, reader is also down bad but way cooler about it, no use of y/n, reader has no established race, brief aesthetic description of reader but it’s vague, swf as per usual

wc: 8.3k

a/n: hi bffs!!! back again with a jack abbot fic! i’m currently posting this from my phone because a storm took my power out so if anything’s weird, that’s why :( i wrote this very fluffy fic so of course, now i have to write a very emotional robby fic that’s coming soon. okay please enjoy - i love your reading your comments! thank you all who’ve been reading my fics so far! hugs and kisses!!!!!!

masterlist

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"What would you say to a date?"

You turn to find none other than Dana Evans being the one with the absurd question. You're not even entirely sure where she came from. Suddenly she's propped up, hip against the desk, crashing your peace with that certain gleam in her eye that means trouble.

This wasn't the first time Dana's complained about your singleness. The way your life consisted of the commute to work, the commute home, a cheesy romance movie, and bed. On the occasional wild day maybe you'd take a trip to a coffee shop, or an in-person trip to the grocery store instead of DoorDash. That is if you were feeling really adventurous. Somehow in those times though you've never managed to have some rom-com meet-cute like in all the movies you watched.

"As flattered as I am, I was under the impression you were married!" You dodge not only the question but also her. Turning on your heels, you walk to the leftmost side of the desk, keeping your eyes down.

Sure, a date sounds nice in theory. The same way a leading man chasing you through an airport seems nice in theory. But, if it actually happened you'd most likely pepper spray him.

"Not me." She says dryly. "Maybe in my younger days though."

You give her a sideways glance, which she's already giving you. The thought intrigues you more than you care to say. What you would give to know more about Dana's college days!

"I've got a guy for you."

"Dana, really I'm good. I don't have time to even fantasize about a date right now."

To you, a date was never a fantasy. They just never turned out right. Men would speak over you, or you'd intimidate them and it's a night full of awkward silences and bad company.

However, you find the occasional times to fantasize about Jack Abbot.

Your crush on Abbot started slow and accidental really. A night off work for the first time in months. Which of course you spent doing the one thing you love most: turning off the lights, drinking wine in your pajamas, and watching whatever rom-com popped up first in your recommended tab. This night just happened to be Two Weeks' Notice. You'd seen it a thousand times and could probably quote half of Sandra Bullock's monologues.

But, there was something different about it this time. Something about the way she was falling in love with her charmingly sarcastic boss. It seemed less like something you'd laugh at and instead it started making perfect sense to you.

I mean Sandra Bullock is falling in love with her boss. Why can't you?

Somehow by the second glass of red, Hugh Grant's face somehow started to morph into Jack Abbott's.

But, most of all it was the mistake of falling asleep during the fourth glass and the dreams that followed, guest starring a sexy doctor.

As quick as this crush started, it was anything but quick to leave. No matter how much you willed it away.

Sandra Bullock-esque rom-coms don't happen to people like you. Hot boss or not.

"It won't kill you." Dana's arms thud against the counter as she lays them down with purpose.

"It might." A voice that belongs to Shen interjects into the conversation you already wish you weren't having. "Have you seen how awkward she gets when hot dads bring their kids in?"

"I do not!" You half-yell. "I'm a professional. I don't think about things like that at work."

"Yeah, and that's why you eye fuck Abb-"

"OKAY!" You yell. Prying eyes are on you immediately as your voice cuts through the ED. You give an awkward thin-lipped smile and apologetic wave to the strangers. "Okay. Point received."

Now the only fantasy you're having at work is ripping the Dunkin cup from Shen's hand and drenching him in it.

"Ignore him." Dana shoos Shen away. He slinks off slurping what's left of his melted iced coffee.

You can't miss the small glint in Dana's eye as she bites back a laugh at Shen's accusation. Which is totally false!

"Dinner. That's all I'm asking." Dana pries once again. You shake your head, not even bothering to verbally answer anymore. "An hour, two max."

"Dana when I'm not here I'm sleeping or trying to get all my shit done before I have to be back here. I don't have time."

"You have time." She responds insistently.

It's almost impressive how she hasn't budged.

"Fine. I don't want to make the time then."

"You don't want to go out and just have a free dinner with a handsome guy?" Dana's eyebrows shoot up.

Unfortunately, the idea intrigues you somewhere deep down. That same part of you that smiles and rewinds when the movie finally crescendos with a dramatic declaration of love. But, in reality, the movie would end differently for you. A terrible date with a guy who went to a doctor a few times and now feels confident in his ability to mansplain medicine. No love at first sight for you.

"Sounds like hell."

You can't even remember the last time you looked at a man that wasn't on your TV. Well, I mean besides the ones you're forced to see every day. Abbot… Who apparently you REALLY look at.

Your mind trails off as he moves from room to room in front of you. That quiet confidence radiating off of him like it always does. UGH, and he's wearing those camo pants tonight. OH. You totally are eye-fucking him aren't you?!

You snap your eyes from him back to Dana immediately. "Tell me about this guy."

No part of you really wants this, but you've got to get your mind off Abbott. Fully. You one hundred percent, unequivocally, cannot be crushing on Jack Abbot.

"It's a guy I know. He's been single for too long. Like you." She says pointedly. "I think you'll like him. He's good people."

"You sure you wanna do this?" It's a genuine question, not a threat. Introducing you to someone could be a bad move on her part. You're not exactly revered as a charmer. "Because, if I don't like him, I'll leave."

You we're strong willed and didn't enjoy wasting your time. There was nothing wrong with it, but some men would disagree. Apparently you could be a quote, "a real ball buster" as your college boyfriend so eloquently wrote in the very text message he dumped you with.

As time went on, you came to realize you liked love more in theory or in dreams. You were not cut out to be a rom-com star.

"I know." Dana draws out her words, rolling her eyes at you. "But, I have a good feeling."

"What's his name?" You give a defeated sigh.

Dana's face lights up with that cocky closed-lip smile she gets when she's won something. She's beaten you down enough and she knows it. Success!

"No names." Leaving no room for rebuttal, she claps her hand flat against the counter to make her point. "I don't want you looking him up."

"Come on-"

"No. You and Santos do that cyber stalking thing and you'll try and find him." She's already turned on her heels before you can get another word out.

"It's not stalking!" You yell after her. "It's the way the world works. Get with the times Dana!"

Well, looks like you just got yourself a date you didn't really want to go on in the first place. But if all goes well you'll fall in love and never think of Jack Abbot as anything more than a boss ever again.

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"Jack, c'mere I gotta talk to you."

Dana surveys the floor, making sure you're nowhere in sight. Luckily for her, you're tied up in a trauma room with a very chatty guest who, based on their facial expression is not very happy with you.

His face turns confused for a second, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening before he falls in step.

"You need a date." She says simply.

For once in his whole life he's actually speechless. He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is an offended scoff.

"When's the last time you've been on a date?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

The offended sound comes out once again as he blunders for a second. "I don't know. A year…?"

He tried once, maybe twice after his wife passed. Someone who asked him out both times. He'd never actually pursued anything himself. It wasn't exactly that he was resisting, there was just never anyone who caught his attention first.

Then came you. But to him, that was forbidden.

"That's sad."

"I'm doing just fine for myself-"

She holds up her hand for him to stop before he says anything further. "I didn't ask about that. And, I don't believe I want to know that."

Robby laughs from somewhere behind her. Of course, listening in on the conversation. Somehow his ears seem to be everywhere at once. There's no conversation he misses in this hospital.

"What?" Jack asks him. The tone of his voice would almost sound offended if he wasn't chuckling.

"No, nothing." Robby shakes his head. He clasps a friendly hand on Dana's shoudler. "He's doing fine Dana. Just this morning Myrna offered to flash him."

Alright, now they're just being mean.

"Tell him he needs a date." Dana elbows Robby. Before Jack can interject, Robby's response is immediate.

"Ohhh, you need a date brother."

Jack's outnumbered and somehow they're also beating him at his own game. He has no defenses left. No sarcastic comments that'll stop them

"You know what? Fine." Jack tosses his hands up. "I'll start looking for someone."

His eyes rake across the hospital floor like he's looking for someone and before he's even made any conscious effort, they land on you.

One day you were a thorn in Jack's side, a new resident he had to get acclimated to. But, very, very quickly you became something else. The worst part was it wasn't even because you were attractive - which you absolutely were. No, it was the first time you yelled at him during trauma. You, a resident, yelling across the table at your attending.

He was gone.

Robby and Dana side-eye each other at Jack's obvious stare. He was never a subtle man and even less so when it came to matters of the heart. The number of times Dana's caught him acting like a giddy school boy around you was absurd.

That time you complimented his technique for a chest tube and he walked around like a God for the rest of the night.

Or, even worse, that time he let his beard grow and asked you, Dana, and Ellis for your opinions. They both agreed it was fine. - not that they cared much either way. - But, you weren't a fan. The next day he was shaved.

It was just something about you. Something he had never seen in someone else. You had no angle, you didn't play games or hospital politics. You came in to work every day, yelled at whoever needed yelling at, and fixed whoever needed fixing. No ass-kissing or pride involved.You had no ego; it was refreshing. If you thought he was acting like a dick you'd tell him. If you thought he was right you'd tell him. Though maybe a little awkwardly because nice feelings weren't really your thing.

"No need!" Dana says with a satisfied grin. "I've got someone for you."

Robby howls a laugh at how perfectly Dana manipulated Jack into this.

"Who?" He asks.

"Someone I've been wanting to set you up with."

"Set me up with? Like a date?" He says emphatically. "Like I'm twenty?"

"It'll be fine. You'll like her."

"Well, who is it?"

"You don't know her." Her face gives nothing away but for a fleeting second Jack would almost swear that seemed like a lie.

"She's smart and beautiful, you'll like her."

"Well, I can't say I don't like those two things." A small smirk creeps up his face. Smart and beautiful was great but he knew someone who fit that description already. Doesn't much matter though, Jack can't remember a time he's seen you show interest in him. And, he was the furthest thing from a pushy man.

Plus, if you wanted him surely you would've said something by now.

"She's a little young," Dana trails off. "That okay with you?"

Jack finds himself calculating in his head how old you were. Would that be weird? Wait. First, why would he care? Second, why would it matter?

"I mean how-"

"Okay, great." Dana claps her hands with a loud boom, ending his sentence for him.

She's already exited the conversation before he can ask more of the many pressing questions he has. "What's her name?" He calls out, Robby still beside him, happy to be a non-involved third party to this shitshow.

"Secrets." She hollers back not turning around, her hands doing most of the talking.

"Looks like you just bought yourself an appearance on the Dating Game." Robby claps Jack's shoulder with an overjoyed smile that crinkles the skin around his eyes.

Hopefully she isn't that young because God, they really are old. I mean the Dating Game, really?

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"What are you up to?" Robby asks, narrowing his eyes onto Dana once he's managed to find her alone.

"Just think he needs someone." She shrugs sounding a little tender, strangely.

"Uh huh." Robby clicks his tongue. "And I'd swear I heard you giving that same advice to one of our residents earlier.

Dana gives nothing away, just a shrug.

"Not saying it's a bad idea. Jacks clearly got it bad. It's just ballsy."

"So you'll help me?" Dana asks.

"Whoa, no." Robby lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. "I didn't say that."

"All I'm asking is that you keep them away from each other tonight so they don't find us out."

"There's no us here Dana." He tosses his hands up in surrender. Always the dramatic. "I've got a hospital to run and this is your master plan."

She gives him a look over the rim of his glasses. He knows he's too grown to be scared into submission by Dana but damn if it doesn't always work.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Hey, why don't you ever set me up on dates?" He can't help but ask as he's already halfway leaving.

"Because I've seen you in relationships."

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Somehow as if by miracle, the ER was the Q word you'd never dare utter. So, for now you'll just say slow. It seemed brighter without so many people clogging the place up, not such a terrorizing place to spend your nights. But, on the other side of quiet and peaceful meant all you could think about was this stupid date with some (probably) stupid guy you don't even want to meet.

Even if it was a leisurely night, there was no such thing for Dana. She paced around the giant hospital centerpiece that was the nurses' desk, doing a million jobs that somehow all belonged to her.

You came out of nowhere, suddenly popping up on the other side of the desk. "I don't like mansplainers."

"Okay, and I don't like the Ravens. What're you telling me for?" It always seemed like her accent had a way of getting thicker when she was stressed or angry.

"For the date." You tap your finger to your temple in a duh fashion. "If they start mansplaining anything to me, I'll leave."

Dana doesn't give you a response, just a curt nod. Because she was definitely going around the city looking for the perfect asshole mansplainer to force you into a date with.

"And they need to be politically sound. I can't deal with someone who doesn't care about the issues I do."

As much as you loved Maid in Manhattan, you always found yourself disliking the leading man just a little too much. That was not a rom-com you wanted to star in, alongside a right-leaning politician.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Dana snaps her head up, shutting you up immediately. It's terrifying when she starts cursing in catholic. "He's a non-mansplaining registered democrat. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes." You answer quietly tucking your lips into a thin line apologetically.

She reaches over the desk, gripping your arm and guiding you somewhat forcefully until you're standing under the track board.

"Work."

Looking down at the iPad in your hand, you said your patient's name to yourself over and over again. You had this terrible habit of knowing everything you needed to know about someone and then coming face to face and forgetting everything, even down to their name. You've done this with friends and patients alike your whole life.

"Janet Lawson." You mutter on a loop, scrolling through to see what the nurses had already done for her.

"Janet Law— Ow."

Your forehead is suddenly rebounding off a black T-shirt; underneath it is a weirdly muscular back that's actually managed to rattle your brain around. Of course. Who else wears a black T-shirt and camo pants to work and has this muscular of a build?

"Doctor Abbot! Sorry." You laugh to mostly yourself, running a few fingers over your forehead. Why'd that come out like a giggle? You laugh. You don't giggle.

"My fault. I should've known better than to stand here when you're running around." He grins.

He's so charming.

You drop your eyes back down to the iPad, looking at him made your chest pinch. Why does it feel like you're cheating on him by going on this date tonight? He's your boss! People don't usually feel like they need to divulge their dating life to their bosses right?

"You off this weekend?" He asks, tilting his head to be able to better to see your downcast eyes.

"Yep. Played my cards right and got two whole days."

"Got any plans?" He crosses his arms over his chest casually. He always asks about your life. This isn't weird, this is just the only time you've thought about keeping it secret.

"Not much." The lie comes out before you can stop it.

"Me neither."

"Cool."

Jack Abbot could befriend a brick wall and somehow you've just managed to have an awkward interaction with him.

"Jack!" Dana's voice echoes between you too. It's so loud and desperate-sounding that he whips his head around immediately.

"Yeah?"

"I need you in room 3."

He looks to the whiteboard, eyes scanning over it twice. The hospital's calm tonight, what could possibly be this critical?

"No one's in room 3…"

She doesn't even turn to the whiteboard herself to double-check. "Room 4 then."

"Okay…" He agrees. "Catch you later?" He turns back to you with a sympathetic frown, waiting for your confirmation. Once you nod at him, he pulls himself and his lingering eyes away.

Like clockwork, Abbot finds himself in your orbit once again. He's nearly convinced you have some kind of magnetic force he's not aware of because there's no rational reasoning for him to be trailing after you all the time.

Your shift is officially over and if you're not going to fall asleep behind the wheel you're desperately going to need a cup of coffee. As your hand rests flat against the break room door, you feel a much bigger and stronger hand just inches above yours.

"Together again." He laughs. He's so close behind you, you swear you feel the vibrations in your own chest. He pushes the door open, just enough that you have to duck under his arm to step over the threshold.

"How was everything with that patient?" You ask, hoping your voice is even and trying your best to keep your face away from him until the heat in your cheeks die down.

"Fine. Just cut and dry stress hives. Not sure what the big emergency was."

You plop down in the chair around the small table, the one leg that's off kilter shakes it back and forth for a second. "Weird." You stretch your legs up onto the second chair in front of you, resting until he's done making his coffee.

As the coffee maker percolates in the background he considers mentioning the fact that Dana is setting him up on a date. Do attendings and residents ever share that much personal information with each other? Probably not.

What was he even hoping to achieve? That you'd imagine him out with some (probably) hot nurse friend of Dana's and lose your mind with jealousy that he's never once seen you have.

It felt weirdly offensive to share his weekend plans with you. He's wanted to ask you out since the second week you worked at this hospital and never has. He couldn't, as the superior here and the man twice your age he wouldn't even let himself think about you too long if he thought it would be disrespectful. It'd be too weird to sit here and talk about his dating life like this. So, he opts for silence.

You push your chair out once Abbott's done using the coffee maker, groaning from the pain that's popped up in your spine from standing all day.

"Here ya go." He extends a full cup to you just as your feet hit the ground.

You stare at the drink for a second. He made you coffee? Coffee you didn't even ask for. He pushes the cup towards you once more, urging you to take it instead of staring at it.

You wrap both hands around the thin cup, feeling the warmth seep through to your palms. "You know how I take my coffee?" You ask, noting the color difference in your cup compared to his.

"Yeah, milk and two sugars. I've seen you make it enough times." Wow, the world really was never going to let this crush ease up was it? "I didn't give you any vanilla though. Keep taking it like that and you'll end up in a coma." You laugh, noticing the wide smile on your face in the reflection of your coffee.

"Thanks." Your voice loses the harsh edges it usually has.

He shrugs as if this was a small gesture and not something that made your entire body feel like it was on fire. He sips the coffee but never takes his eyes off yours. They have a darker look to them as the cup puts a shadow over his face.

"Heading out?"

"Yep." You toss your bag over your shoulder. "I'm caught up on all my charts from tonight."

"Yeah, I trust you." His words come out smooth.

You know you're so far gone when these upcoming two days off start to feel like punishment more than a much-needed break. Two days without seeing him might be bordering on eternal torture.

This is the last time you'll see him until your date with some stranger. You're being so dramatic but it literally feels like you're some Wild West movie heroine seeing her one true love for the last time before heading to her arranged marriage.

Maybe it's just because your fantasy had to end now. You had to live your life, date (annoyingly so), and you could keep falling asleep at night and having Jack Abbot's face pop up in your dreams. It was a fantasy, that's all it was.

Abbot likes people, not you. He liked to be friendly, wink at nurses, and flirt with the old ladies who were frequent fliers. Even if you weren't his resident, people like you didn't end up with people like him.

Plus, if he wanted you surely he would've said something by now.

"Want me to walk you out?" He asks, always the gentleman.

"Sure."

He reaches over and slides the bag from your arm, throwing it over his own shoulder. His arm stays on the small of your back as you pass through the crowded triage area, only dropping when you make it to your car. A small, beat-up Civic you're embarrassed to tell people the year of.

"Have a nice vacation." He grins, setting your backpack in your backseat for you.

"Yeah, two days is one crazy vacation."

"Well, either way don't miss me too much."

You laugh, your head lulling backwards as the sound reverberates outside in the quiet parking lot. "Might be too hard. Living in a cold, cruel Doctor Abbot-less world."

He leans over, enough that you can tell he's not wearing any cologne as the smell of antiseptic wafts off him. And the worst part is, somehow it works. The click of your car door opening is the only thing that draws your eyes away.

"Be safe." He says, carefully shutting the car door once you're solidly inside. "Come by if you start missing me too much." He speaks a little louder so you hear him through the sealed window.

You give him a thumbs down as your reverse lights come on.

He watches you pull out of the parking lot and imagines what that sight would be like more often. Your taillights pulling out of the driveway of his house every day, waving you away while drinking his morning coffee, knowing you'd be back that night.

Oh yeah He's going on a date with another woman tomorrow.

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This is horrible

You stand in front of the mirror in the third outfit of the night. You pull at the fabric, like a toddler. It clings to everywhere you don't want it to. You've got to have help for this.

Where's your quirky best friend sidekick that everyone in the movies has?

To: Santos From: You what do you wear on a date?

To: You From: Santos show up naked power move

Unhelpful.

A dress feels like too much, but dress pants make you feel like a politician. The place is way too nice for jeans. As Dana specifically told you. You don't even own anything you'd consider a blouse. And to make matters worse, you're beginning to notice you have very little color in your wardrobe.

This is agonizing.

The outfit you have on will have to suffice, if only because you're running out of room on your floor for discarded clothese.

The long skirt feels less dramatic than a dress but less stiff than pants. This is the nicest shirt you own and the closest thing you'd associate with fancy. All in all, you clean up pretty well. Everything is black like all the other items in your wardrobe. But, Dana requested you wear black since she told your date that's how he'd recognize you. Your mystery man will be in white tonight

Your body collides with your bed as you toss yourself onto it like an angsty teenager. You haven't been on a date in months and the last one you went on lasted an hour before you faked and emergency and left.

Katherine Heigl's voice blares through your apartment as 27 Dresses begins auto-playing after whatever you threw on to begin with.

What the hell is with these movies and falling in love with your boss?

Rolling onto your back, you're fingers start typing Jack Abbot into the Instagram search bar before you even know what you're doing. It only takes the letter J for his account to come up. You've for sure done this too many time. Maybe Dana's right. This is totally stalking.

He has three posts and none of them are his face. He's got a picture of Robby and Dana at some fancy hospital event and two pictures of some scenic locations he visited. He's such an old man. The only thing you can see him in is his profile picture. Much to your dismay, you screenshot and zoom in.

He's so handsome and this is such weirdo behavior.

The more you zoom in, the blurrier the photo gets. Right now, you're essentially looking at pixels that vaguely resemble Jack Abbot and even then he's otherworldly handsome. Some selfie from a terrible angle that he no doubt took the moment Instagram prompted him for a profile picture.

You scream as the name pops up on the top of your screen, tossing the phone on your bed like it burned you. For a second you actually believe he somehow knows your cyber stalking him right now, but there's no way. On your feet now from the scare, you timidly reach over and in one quick motion flip the phone face up.

Abbot: Have fun on your vacation while the rest of us are working our asses off.

You've got to stop reacting to everything he does like some school girl experiencing their first crush. You're more giddy from this stupid text than you are about this date. This is what you're actively trying to avoid!

You click the side button stuffing the phone into your skirt pocket. Yeah, the skirt has pockets. You give yourself one more look in the mirror, closing your eyes and taking three deep breaths to clear your mind.

No more Jack Abbot tonight.

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This place is nice just like Dana described. An Italian restaurant that you had to take a taxi to reach. The outside has a deep maroon awning where people waiting on tables are congregating. It's not crowded but there's way more people here than you want to experience a first date in front of.

The inside is even nicer. Dark walls and romantic lighting. There's even a band playing from somewhere you cant see, but you recognize the sound of live instruments. The tables are all covered in white cloths. This is far from the restaurants you usually eat at where children color on those paper table runners.

"Hi," You approach the hostess more timid than usual, clearing your throat. "I'm meeting someone…"

Your eyes scan over the many people in the room. Theres way more people seated than you'd hoped. Great, all these people may witness your biggest humiliation tonight. Theres a small, even fancier dining room that's walled in and you wonder if your mystery man is in there.

The maitre d responds but your ears are suddenly filled with nothing but the sound of your own heart beat. Your eye's zero in on someone, someone sitting in front of the giant burgundy curtains that drape from floor to ceiling.

A very familiar face.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Doctor Abbot?" You say standing beside the empty chair at this table for two.

His eyes shoot up so fast you're afraid he's going to hurt himself. He looks like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out of his barely parted lips. You're mirroring the same expression back to him. Shock and horror.

He stands up from his chair so fast, the table rocks and sends ripples through the expensive water glasses. "What are you doing here?" He asks, hands flat on the table like he needs to prop himself up.

"Me?" You say back, clutching the purse strap over your shoulder. "What are you doing here?" You want to dissolve into dust in the huge fancy restaurant that suddenly feels much smaller. This can't be happening.

"Oh fuck."

You both speak at the same time. Your sentiment is much more verbal than Abbot who had the decency to whisper under his breath.

You two go back to staring at each other for another moment. Completely still except for the twitch around Abbots eye. You know your eyes are wider than usual and probably frighteningly so, but you can't make them close. To make matters worse the trumpet crescendos into something romantic from wherever they're playing from. You're a little too busy to look right now.

How could this happen?

"I think Dana uh—" The words die in your throat as soon as they start. You gesture vaguely hoping to fill in the blanks.

"Yeah." He speaks gruffly.

"Yeah." You parrot the same word back, unsure of what else there even is to say. "I could go." You gesture back to the grand entrance of the restaurant.

That's all it took to shake Jack from the shell shocked state he was in. He reaches out before he even thinks much about it. Not a pull, just his palm flat against your forearm making sure you don't bolt.

"No. Were already here." He shrugs like it's simple. "Plus, I need you to stay and help me plan on how to get Dana fired."

You laugh, your shoulders easing finally, dropping from where they were pulled up so tight. The immediate horror of this situation is beginning to dissipate between the two of you. Despite the knot in your stomach, you actually feel a little giddy. I mean, you've dreamed about this for a long, long time. Maybe it wouldn't be awful of you to at least try and enjoy yourself.

"We might as well stay and eat." He picks up his menu and gestures to the chair that's meant to be yours.

"Might as well?" You repeat back with a sarcastically sensual tone. "Well, with an offer that romantic how could I refuse?"

He walks around the table, eyes on you the entire time. He pulls out your chair without even looking at it. When he puts his arm on the small of your back to guide you onto the seat, your actually worried your knees might buckle.

"You know what I meant." The breath from his nose tickles your ear as leans in close to tuck your chair in.

"Can I get you two started with anything?" The waiter appears from the kitchen, dressed just as nicely as half the patrons in here. Jack gives him a polite just a second gesture. You've both been far too distracted to look at the menu.

"You want wine?" He asks, flicking his eyes from the menu to you. "I mean… we are on a date." Theres a small smile in the corner of his mouth when he says it, almost humorous like he's enjoying saying that in the presence of the server.

A date. Officially a date.

"Yeah, I'll do a glass."

"A bottle of the house red." Jack speaks to the waiter. A bottle? Big spender!

The wine the waiter returns with is in expensive glassware. The stems are crystal thin and make you feel like you're back in the OR holding a delicate medical instrument.

Jack makes a polite declining gesture as the waiter goes to fill his glass. "None for me, thanks."

"You're not having any?" You ask, lowering the glass from your lips, suddenly feeling embarrassed of the large sip you've already taken.

"I've got work tonight. Not everyone has the weekend off like you." He laughs. Oh yeah. It was only 5:30 of course he'd be heading to work after this. Always saving lives.

"You didn't need to order all that then." You gesture to the still mostly full bottle the server left behind. "I'm not gonna drink a whole bottle myself." Not in front of him at least!

"Take it home then." He shrugs. Damn that's sexier than it needed to be. He orders one of the nicest bottles of wine, doesn't have any for himself, and then tells you to keep it. "I know how much you like your wine.

"You look nice." He crosses his arms on top of the menu resting on the table so there's nothing that could possibly distract him from you. His words are genuine but a little stiff. He hasn't complimented someone on anything outside of a medical context in a while.

"Thanks " You actually smile. looking down at the fancy outfit you were so hyper critical of in the mirror. "I wouldn't get used to it though."

"You clean up nice yourself." You force out. Not because it wasn't true, it very much was. But, it's always felt awkward to you to compliment someone.

"Feels weird." He tugs at the black tie resting on top of his white dress shirt. It was quite the site. Under the warm lights of the dining room, at certain angles the muscles under his shirt were highlighted perfectly, especially his arms.

Jack however is more caught of guard by your new look than you are of his. Your hair is fixed and resting on your shoulders in waves instead of pulled back and frizzy from a scrub cap. I mean, you looked beautiful the other way, but he didn't know this was an option. And your clothes. It was few and far between that he saw you in anything but scrubs and certainly never anything fancy like this. Your scrubs were loose and unflattering. These clothes were tight and highlighted all your features well. You'd been hiding all this? But, maybe that's for the better because he wouldn't be able to survive this look day to day.

"Would you judge me if I had another glass?" You have a small smile just on the corner of your mouth. Your stemware was getting emptier and emptier as the conversation went on.

"I'm not your boss tonight." He chuckles, filling up the glass for you. He holds your eyes when he says it, like it's important to him that you remember that.

"Alright. Let's be honest with ourselves." You finally laugh out, shaking your head. "This is weird." The wine coursing through you is making it a lot easier to say whatever you're feeling. Plus the small drink you had back home to pre game that you're not going to bring up.

Thankfully, he laughs too. "Yeah. I didn't imagine I'd be sitting in front of you tonight."

"Yeah. I certainly wasn't expecting Doctor Abbot." You gesture widely towards him. "… I should probably drop the "Doctor" on a date right."

"Yeah probably." He nods. "Just Jack is fine."

You're stomach flips. It's silly, something as simple as a name change getting you this worked up.

"Jack." You test it out, turning the name over in your head a few times. It just felt so intimate for some reason. You've known him as Doctor Abbot for so long, now you get to learn Jack.

"So, Jack" You laugh, using the name one more time now that you've been awarded the permission. "I was expecting Dana to set me up with an Orthopedic surgeon I'd hate or something." You laugh. If your relationships with the Ortho team at work was anything to go on, that date certainly wouldn't have gone well.

He laughs loudly in the dining room full of people talking softly below the music. "Yeah, God help us all if she did that. I was expecting a nurse or a lawyer or something. Not my resident."

"But, I'm glad she didn't." He says at a lower register.

"Wait!" You completely skip over the romantic thing he said, your brain already locked onto a minute detail you just thought of. "You texted me before I left the house."

"Yeah? So?"

"So?!" You scoff at him, but you're laughing too much for it to be perceived as upset. "So, you texted me before you thought you we're going on a date with some woman."

He just shrugs. "I was thinking about you."

Your cheeks burn hot and you have to roll your eyes to try and get some of your cool demeanor back. "That's crazy."

"Well, it doesn't matter now does it."

Being on a date with Jack is even nicer than you imagined it could be. You've barely lifted a finger tonight. He pulled out your chair for you, he refills your glass for you.

Yes, you're now a quarter through your third.

From anyone else, you'd probably get a little annoyed with this, but there's something romantic about the way Jack does it. He's not smothering or chauvinistic about it, just someone who wants to care for you.

He really is like a man from a movie.

By the time they drop your food off at the table, you're enjoying yourself more than you ever have on a date. He cuts into the steak while telling you the story of the first patient he ever had, which actually makes you snort.

"My first patient at PTMC bit me." You laugh, nodding emphatically as you do. The third glass of wine has definitelyloosened you up. Enough to even reach across the table and put your hand on his arm when you laugh.

"Oh yeah! The one with the suppository." He points the end of his fork in your direction as he remembers.

You make a sound of dissatisfaction between your teeth, scrunching up your face. "Let's avoid saying suppository on a date."

"Fair enough." He laughs, covering his mouth with his napkin. "Man, I thought you were gonna kill that guy."

"I remember telling Robby when you first started, you we're gonna drop the night crews patient satisfaction scores by half." He shakes his head fondly.

"What?!" You laugh, dropping your mouth open with a jokingly offended expression.

"You have a real mean streak to you." He shrugs truthfully, but he smiles when he does. He loves that about you.

"I do not." You roll your eyes, the mean streak showing through clearly. "And, I could say you're not as charming as you think you are."

He doesn't miss a beat. "Yeah I am."

Yeah he is.

You pretend to care about his accusations some more, but he can see the smile you can't wipe off your face. "I can't believe you talked shit about me to Robby." You shake your head. "And to think I actually liked you when I first started. You were my favorite Attending."

"Yeah?" He quirks his eyebrow up, somehow looking even more handsome with that smug sideways smile.

"Yeah I did."

"Did it wear off?" He asks, leaning back, tilting his head as he looks at you.

"Nope."

The words hangs there a moment too long. You expect him to make a joke, tell you that you have good taste, or that he was the obvious choice, but he doesn't. Instead he just looks at you, his smug grin changing into something much softer.

"Good to know." His voice is maybe as tender as you've ever heard it. Like your statement meant more to him than he's letting on.

Jack's already reaching into his pocket for his wallet before the check hits the table cloth. In fact, he doesn't even let it sit there. He takes it from the waiters hand so there's no argument about who's paying.

"I can cover my half." You offer anyways, hand digging around in your purse under the table. This would not be the first date a man expected you to go dutch on.

"No you can't." He rolls his eyes. He knew you'd offer no matter how obvious he made it that you weren't paying this bill. It was just in your nature to be fiercely independent. But, he was here now. "I don't make a habit of asking women out and making them cover the bill."

"Technically you didn't ask me out… Dana did." You raise your eyebrows in a challenge.

He makes a sound somewhere between a huff and a laugh. "Either way, you're not paying."

Jack opts for cash, pulling out a few bills that you try and count up so you total how much he's spent on you tonight. You can't make out if a few pieces are twenties or fifties, but based on the wad alone it must be a lot.

"Fine. I'll get the next one." You're eyes widen a little as you catch what you said, your words coming way too freely with your tipsy-ness. "I mean… not, or, If- you know." You flubb, your hands moving quickly in front of you.

"No you won't. But, you can offer, again."

He stands first, extending his arm to you like the gentleman he's been all night. The sleeve of your jacket catches the chair as you stand making you wobble on your already slightly uneven footing. "Alright, let's get you out of here before you hurt yourself." He laughs. His reassuring hand stays flat against the small of your back, guiding you through the beautiful dining room and into the cool night air.

Jack stands under the awning with you, shoulder to shoulder as he waits for your ride to arrive. Before he has to drag himself back to work and away from you. Through the window, you can still hear the bands instruments playing, on the high notes it rattles the glass just barely.

"I love this song." You gasp, leaning against the wall and physically feeling the song course through you. Jack listens intently for a second, making out what you're hearing. He jogs his memory and remembers having heard the songs a few times. Something by Louie Armstrong; there was no mistaking that voice. La vie en rose that was it!

Jack stays silent, listening to the song alongside you. He doesn't close his eyes like you do. To be honest, he's far more interested in you than the song. This was what he's thought about so many times. Not this exact scenario, but things like it. You in domestic situations, calm, happy. With your eyes still shut, he roams his eyes over every part of your face without fear of being caught.

The slope of your nose, down to the curve of your lips. You had a prominent cupids bow that made your lips look sharp in a way he could never stop thinking about. Your eyelashes that now fluttered along your under eye. He wasn't sure in this moment if you've ever looked more beautiful.

"You know," He says quietly, making sure you we're still able to hear your song over this words. "all thing's considered I think this was a pretty good date."

You peek one eye open, flickering it over to him with a smile. "So we are calling it a date?"

"Yeah." He grins back at your silly looking one-eyed expression."I mean that's what it was wasn't it?"

"Just making sure." You relax again, back to closing your eyes. You can hide the gleam in your eyes by shutting them, but you can't hide the smile on your face.

"But," Jack starts his sentence quietly, devoid of that usual sarcasm he carries through every word. "I was always under the impression good dates usually end with a kiss."

Both your eyes open now, quickly. You stay leaned against the wall, putting a few fingers over your mouth to try and cover the stupidly giddy grin. You coyly nod, eyes looking back and forth like you're thinking hard. He crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for whatever response this could possibly lead to.

"That does check out." You laugh, one finger tapping on the side of your mouth in fake thought. "That's usually how all the movies end."

"Yeah?" He mutters close to your mouth, settling his hands on either side of your face. You floss your lip in between your teeth, not even that hiding the grin. "Yeah."

La vie en rose crescendos in the background as Jacks lips finally connect with yours. It's perfect. It's like a movie. Like a really perfect rom-com. He's not careful, but he's not aggressive. You can feel how long he's wanted to do this in the way he swallows every breath that leaves your mouth. Your hands trail up his arms, finally feeling how toned they actually are after wondering what they'd feel like under your fingers every time they flexed in the OR.

You're sure you're getting stares from a few concerned citizens along the sidewalk but you couldn't care less. You feel that same smile grow on his lips as you press a hand to his chest. You're reminded of the scene in The Princess Diaries and swear your leg almost kicks up just the same.

He pulls back for no other reason than breathing which he's almost sure he could live without if he could do that a few more times. But, before he can go too far you chase him for one more peck which he reciprocates with just as much enthusiasm. Your hand is still on his chest and now white knuckle gripped against his tie.

"Yeah pretty good date." You repeat the sentiment, any ability to form new thoughts left your head the moment he kissed you. You smooth down his tie with one hand, straightening out the wrinkles your fist caused. He stops you, enveloping your one hand with both of his, pressing his lips along your knuckles. "I'm glad it was with you."

Once your taxi pulls up, you feel like lying and claiming you never called for it. But you have no choice, Jack's got work and you're under strict doctors orders (Doctor Jack Abbot) to rest and enjoy your one weekend off.

"Text me when you get home." He says, shutting the taxi door with you on the other side, painfully. "And, swing by the hospital if you have any more wine. We may need to get you on a saline drip." You laugh way too loudly in the enclosed space of the cab. You hold the wine bottle by the neck, showing it off.

"Goodnight Jack." You say elbow resting on the sill of the rolled down window, smiling up at him. Jack. Not Doctor, just Jack.

You're phone vibrates in your pocket a few minutes down the road into the silent cab ride. The notification disrupts your staring out the window with a smile that was starting to hurt your cheeks. You figure it must be Jack, way too worried about you commuting home alone and already checking in, but it's not.

To: You From: Dana So… Did you like him?

#oh fuck this is really cute #smiling at my phone before my therapy appointment lol #abbot #xr #pitt

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