summary: even doctors can’t help the selfish thoughts that come with the job.
warnings: mentions of child death!
—
The room is too quiet when it’s over.
Not the busy, clinical quiet that follows a successful save. Not the controlled calm of paperwork and next steps. This is the kind of silence that settles in your bones and refuses to move, like the air itself is grieving.
Frank’s hands are still gloved when he lowers them. They shake, barely, but you see it. You always see it. You’re standing across from him, your shoulders touching, close enough that you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he exhales through his nose, slow and controlled, the way he does when he’s holding himself together with discipline alone.
The monitor is flat.
The little girl is still.
You’d both known it was coming. You’d known ten minutes ago. Five. Thirty seconds before it happened. You had worked anyway. Because you always do. Because you’re doctors. Because sometimes miracles happen and you refuse to be the ones who gave up too early.
But this time, they didn’t.
Someone murmurs time of death. Someone else gently pulls the curtain. The room empties in that strange, respectful way it always does, like everyone knows they’re intruding on something sacred now.
You don’t move.
Frank doesn’t either.
It’s only when the door clicks shut that the weight crashes in fully, all at once. The child’s injuries replay in your head without permission. The bruising. The internal bleeding. The way their small body had felt impossibly fragile beneath your hands.
You swallow hard.
“I thought…” Your voice breaks before you can stop it. You don’t finish the sentence. You don’t have to.
Frank closes his eyes. Just for a second. When he opens them again, they’re wet, glassy, furious in that quiet way of his that scares people who don’t know him well.
“I know,” he says softly.
He pulls off his gloves with shaking fingers and drops them onto the tray like they weigh a thousand pounds. You do the same. Your hands are trembling now too, badly enough that you press them together, fingers lacing tight just to make it stop.
It doesn’t.
You feel him shift beside you. Then his arm is around your shoulders, solid and grounding, pulling you into his chest. You let yourself lean into him, forehead pressing against his collarbone, the smell of antiseptic and his familiar cologne mixing together in a way that makes your chest ache.
You’re doctors.
You’ve seen death before.
But you’re parents too.
And that changes everything.
“I can’t,” you whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about her. About how she looked when she was sleeping when we left this morning.“
Your breath stutters. Frank tightens his grip on you, his chin resting against the top of your head.
“I keep seeing gigi’s face instead of theirs,” he admits quietly. “And I hate myself for that. How selfish.”
You pull back just enough to look at him. His jaw is tight, eyes red rimmed, the kind of restraint that only cracks when he’s completely alone. You reach up without thinking, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing just beneath his eye.
“You’re human, you’re a parent. We’re all a little selfish.” you say.
His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it there like an anchor.
Neither of you says anything for a long moment.
Then, very quietly, Frank says, “I need to hear her voice.”
The words hit you like a lifeline.
You nod immediately, fumbling for your phone with clumsy fingers. Your hands are shaking so badly it takes you two tries to unlock it and find the babysitters number. You don’t even think about the time or the interruption. You just hit call and lift it between you, speaker on.
It rings once.
Twice.
The sitter, Laura, answers and goes to search for Gigi in her room.
“Mommy?” comes the small, sleepy voice on the other end. “Why are you calling?”
You clamp a hand over your mouth. The sound of her voice nearly drops you to your knees. Frank’s grip tightens instantly, his other hand coming up to brace your back.
“Hey, hey babygirl,” you manage, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Did we wake you?”
There’s a pause. Then a soft yawn. “A little. Daddy still at work?”
Frank leans closer, his forehead pressing against yours now, eyes closing as if the sound alone is too much.
“Yeah,” you say gently. “Daddy’s still working.”
“Tell him I love him,” she says easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And that I need him to read the dinosaur book tomorrow. Not the short one.”
Frank lets out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob. He clears his throat and leans toward the phone.
“I hear you, kiddo,” he says softly. “I love you too. Dinosaur book tomorrow, promise.”
There’s a smile in her voice when she answers. You can hear it even without seeing her. “Love you the biggest.”
You lower the phone slowly. Neither of you moves for a second. Then Frank exhales, long and shaky, his forehead dropping fully to yours.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
You nod, tears finally spilling over. “We needed that.”
He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around you completely now, holding you like he’s afraid the world might take something else if he loosens his grip.
You stand there together in the quiet room, two doctors who did everything they could, two parents clinging to the sound of a child’s voice, reminding each other that even on the days you lose someone, there is still so much love waiting for you at home.
sorry i just can't get enough of him and i need him to put me in my place okay bye
part two of softdom!jack
— jack who swears he’s “not that guy” but remembers all the tiny details about you. your coffee order, the snack you only like when you’re stressed, which side you sleep on. he likes to act casual but his brain is a database filled with all of your habits and favorite things
— jack who uses touch as reassurance. hand on your thigh while he drives, thumb brushing your wrist when you’re talking, fingers lacing with yours when a room feels too overwhelming
— jack who lowkey likes when you steal his clothes even though he pretends to be annoyed, saying “i was gonna wear that” but he’s smiling because you look cute and you smell like his cologne
— jack who calls you out when you’re overdoing it, but not in a strict way, just that look and a quiet “you’re running on fumes, baby. and suddenly you’re sitting in a hot bath with him while he rubs your back and whispers sweet nothings into your ear
— jack who kisses your forehead without thinking. mid-conversation, mid-walk, mid-you-talking-shit about your day. he’s become so used to it he doesn’t even realize until someone else brings it up
— jack who’s patient when you’re moody. he lets you vent, lets you sulk and pout, then he starts with soft affection that he knows will make you crack. he catches that little smile you have when he says, “you still mad, baby?” and he knows he's won
— jack who leans down to murmur things in your ear in busy rooms, the closeness and his voice in your ear makes your brain go fuzzy and your thighs clench.
— jack who lets you sit on his lap while he’s reading or watching a show, his hands resting lightly on your hips to hold you in place, voice calm but low, whispering things like “stay still for me."
— jack who loves to give a playful little smack to your ass when you’re being bratty, just to see your cheeks heat up and your mouth go “ugh!”
— jack who slides behind you in the kitchen while you’re reaching for something high, presses himself against the back of you and whispers, “focus, baby,” and you can’t stop squirming
requesting literally anything with mel i love her 🙏
mel who finally gets the courage to ask you out. part one here!
mel doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first. you’re both talking behind the nurses station when it happens. she’s mid-story, her hands moving, talking about this patient who kept asking for a doctor despite her stating she is one, and your eyes are on her like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be looking.
and mel just keeps going.
“and then dr. robby walks in like he’s gonna fix everything, which, of course, he does, and—” she cuts herself off with a soft huff, shaking her head, “sorry, i’m doing it again. i always just..talk.”
“i know,” you say, smiling. “i like it.”
her brain fully short-circuits for a second. she looks at you, really looks, and you’re so open, so sure, like this is the easiest thing in the world. like listening to her is not a chore, not background noise. it feels like something she’s never experienced before. she speaks a little quieter now, “even when i go on tangents about patients and movies and hospital policies?”
“especially then.”
she smiles, the skin around her eyes crinkling as she does. she looks down at her hands, fiddling with a pen and then, because she’s already talking and momentum is a powerful thing, the words just...keep coming.
“i just—i don’t know. i feel like i talk more around you, which is saying something, because i already talk a lot,” she winces a little, a little scared at how vulnerable she's being, then pushes through, “it’s just easy being around you, like my brain doesn’t have to filter everything first and i don’t have to worry about bringing up the ‘right’ thing or talking too long.”
she risks a glance up at you, her cheeks pink.
“so, um,” she continues, voice rushing now but still kind of low, her nerves finally catching up, “i was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could—not here, obviously, because this isn’t really appropriate, or romantic, but like, maybe we can get coffee? somewhere normal? with real cups?” she lets out a breathy laugh, like she can’t believe she’s saying this. “like. a date. maybe. if you’d want that. with me.”
— emery who is 100% the type to spoil you through actions instead of big flashy gifts or speeches. she acts tough but then your favorite snack magically appears in the cabinet, your phone’s charged, and your hoodie somehow smells like her perfume.
— emery whose long shifts make her quieter, but not mean. never mean. but, when she finally snaps a little, it’s less anger and more “i’m overstimulated and you’re poking the bear, babe." she likes control at home because work is chaos all day.
— emery who notices bratty behavior way earlier than she lets on. the unread texts, the dramatic “i miss you give me attention rn” clinginess, the “i'm pretending to be mad at you so you’ll put me in my place” attitude. she stores it for later when she has the energy to deal with you properly.
— emery who used eye contact as her weapon, both in and out of the bedroom. she doesn’t have to raise her voice. one look and you already know you pushed it. the calm low tone she uses is worse than yelling.
— emery who’s big on “use your words” when you’re needy. if you get whiny instead of actually saying what you want, she will absolutely make you slow down and try again. she wants to hear you loud and clear.
— emery who, despite her faked annoyance, likes when you get clingy. she won’t admit it because she likes to think she’s fine on her own, but she loves knowing that she’s needed & wanted.
— emery who uses “there’s my girl.” praise always feels different from her because she doesn’t overuse it. when she says you did good or listened well, she means it.
— emery who’s possessive in a protective way, not the isolating or toxic kind. like arm around your waist in public, subtle guiding hand on your back, always positioning herself between you and chaos. very much “that’s mine” but she's quiet about it.
— emery who loves to shower with you after a long shift. it’s her reset ritual. she doesn’t feel like she can fully wind down until she’s under the hot water with you, whispering and kissing each other all over.
in honor of 100 followers and 1k+ notes on my recent jack post (thank u thank u thank u), there will hopefully be a few more posts going out this weekend !
the tiktok “i found your bsf on hinge” trend made me think of this scenario
“yeah, by the way did you know robby’s on tinder?”
jack reaches for the chart you’re holding out for him, shaking his head with a small smile. you lean further into the counter of the nurses station. dana swivels in her chair to look down her glasses at you.
“and you’d know that how, kid?” she’s definitely not instigating. she’s just curious.
jack doesn’t ask permission before lifting your styrofoam coffee cup to his lips, considering you’d pushed it towards him moments before.
you nod, like it’s obvious. jack looks between you and the first page of the binder, attention divided.
he takes a sip of the watered down macchiato.
the taste isn’t amazing on his palate, however the remnants of your lipstick on the side of the cup make his throat bob as he licks his bottom lip.
“i found his account the other day.”
PAUSE
your gaze casually travels to jack, searching his face. give it a minute. just as the lines in his forehead deepen with contemplation.
dana’s lips curl in, turning in her chair like the wall is suddenly more interesting. her eyes catch shen walking in with his dunkin, and the broad look of I slept well last night.
“anything exciting yet?” he jokes, affectionately bumping your shoulder as he passes to check the board.
jack blinks.
“nope!” you answer, stifling a laugh.
okay now he looks homicidal.
you can feel his eyes on the side of your face, shen staring at the interaction with brief amusement, having no idea what he’d walked into.
“you’re pulling my leg, right?” jack tips his chin forward, falling into your eye-line.
it’s hard to not smile. but you must persist.
“about?” you laugh. waving a hand at him.
you’ve never seen someone so composed look so utterly confused. the expression on his face was almost comical.
he says your name like you’re in trouble.
“you have a tinder?”
your brows furrow, mouth opening like a fish out of water.
“what makes you say that?”
jack blinks again, harder, like he’s hallucinating.
“you just said,” he pauses, inhaling as he places a hand on the counter, the other running through his silver curls, “you’re messing with me, right?”
okay well now he just looks sad. unfairly so.
your lips purse, you can feel warmth filling your cheeks as you notice two extra pairs of eyes on the two of you.
okay. whatever. it was funny until jack was looking at you like you killed his puppy.
“fine!” you concede, “it’s a trend!” your confession is followed by shen’s muffled laughter as you smack both hands over your face.
you didn’t even last 5 minutes.
you can feel a firm hand on your waist, hot breath against your ear as jack moves to pass you, patient chart in tow.
pitt banter: when walsh is dating, then gets engaged to, and then marries her wife and her coworkers in surgery and the er get wind of it, it's immediately a new rebuttal for any of her sharp comments. like,
emery: (something something something snark about er physicians)
robby: (ignoring her comment) hey emery how's the mrs doing?
god Dana with the unhoused man ik her ass is still never letting them slip through the cracks. she's a little colder this season, maybe, obviously traumatized and not doing great, but that's mama. that's always been mama always will be mama. "we keep offering." please I'm so soft over her can she hold me can we hold each other
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