People calling Shawn Hatosy a boomer as a semi-joke has me thinking about what I’ll be called by gen z and gen alpha “kids” in a few years, omg. Are millennials already boomers? Am I dying? (We’re all dying though.)
(Translation: I don’t even exist. Neither do you, nor anyone. This is all an illusion, not reality.)
summary: Jack's waiting for you to come around. Meanwhile you decide what you want.
pairing: Jack Abbot x resident!reader
warnings: reference to stalking, harassment, age gap
note: I just wanted to give you guys a part two, and thanks for all the comments and notes on the first part!
The domesticity that takes over your days together feels nice. You’re still not quite in a relationship yet, but you’re obviously getting there, you just both take small steps towards each other. Jack knows he has to be patient, because he knows how fragile you are as a result of what you went through with your ex recently.
But that’s okay, he can, and he will wait for you to come around.
Today you’re both taking the day shift, and Jack feels a little out of place being at the ER at this time, but it’s not like he hasn’t been here during the day before. It’s Robby’s day off, which means he has to keep an eye on the kids, including you, and deep down he’s worried he will subconsciously play favorites with you.
As it turns out, he’s not the one playing favorites. You’re the one who keeps gravitating around him, looking for his approval regarding a patient, or just showing up with a cup of coffee that’s made exactly as he likes it. You don’t even offer it, you just put it down knowing perfectly well he’s a coffee-stealer at home.
When a new patient dies shortly after being brought in–and sometimes it’s inevitable due to injuries sustained in accidents–you excuse yourself and go out to the ambulance bay to get some fresh air and calm down. It’s breaking his heart to see you on the verge of crying, because he thought by now you were used to these things, and you learned how to handle such situations.
Although, and he knows that from firsthand experience, you can never truly get used to patients dying.
It’s only an hour later when things slow down enough to give him the chance to chat with you. He sends you a message, asking to meet him in the break room in five, and he’s happy to see you do exactly as he says. Since you entered with several minutes of difference, no one can suspect this to be more than a coincidence.
“How are you holding up?” Jack asks you as he leans against the counter behind him.
You sit on a chair by one of the tables, looking utterly exhausted. “I don’t know if I can ever get used to this,” you admit.
He remains silent, giving you the time to figure out how to go on, because by now he knows you well enough to see there’s more to this. When you bite on your lip, he feels a pull towards you, because all he wants is hugging you tightly to let you know he’s here by your side.
Just like he still does when you can’t sleep well, when you’re nervous, jittery, or just simply tired.
And just like he expects, you gulp, then look back at him. “Would it be a stupid idea to quit now? I don’t feel like doing this anymore, I highly doubt I could do this for much longer.”
With a sigh, Jack closes the door and pulls over a chair to sit in front of you. He doesn’t reach out to touch you, he wants to make sure there’s nothing compromising if someone happens to step inside, but he can see the hurt look in your eyes.
“If you feel like it, take a break. But, and I think you should really consider this, a therapist can help you learn how to cope with the death of patients,” he explains.
You let out a desperate huff of a laugh. “I’m already seeing a therapist, you know that perfectly well,” you remind him.
Like he needed to be reminded. He never asks you about how the sessions go, but he always looks for clues. When you come back, looking mentally tired, he knows you touched some very important topics. But if you’re in a good mood, he knows you didn’t let the therapist steer the conversation to more serious waters.
But he knows one thing: this therapist isn’t an expert in this field. She’s good when it comes to abusive relationships, yes, but their line of work is different. His therapist, on the other hand, is good, but Jack isn’t sure sending you to him would be a wise idea.
“And what if I asked my therapist to see if he can help? Maybe he, or someone he recommends could see you for a few sessions to see if you click,” he suggests.
A part of him wants his therapist to know you’re the one he’s in love with, the one he’s been thinking about so much, the one who occupies ninety percent of his thoughts most of the time. Maybe he can give him tips on how to break the ice, how to notice when it’s the right time to tell you how he feels about you.
“You think he could really help me?” you wonder almost timidly.
With a smile, he nods. “Yeah, he probably can. Well, he could help me, and I’m fucked up, so–”
“You’re not fucked up, Jack.” You sound so sure of what you just said that for a moment even he believes it’s true. “Look, with all you went through… I guess we would all be a little… complicated.”
Complicated? How adorable of you.
He flashes a small smile at you, but decides not to say anything about it. He knows what his brain’s like, he knows what it’s capable of, but hearing how positive you are compared to him gives him goosebumps.
You trust him more than he trusts himself, and that’s kind of funny. And cute. And God, he wants to kiss you to make you feel a little better.
“Oh, good, here you are,” Dana says when she pokes her head in, then immediately goes on to talk about an incoming patient.
As Jack nods and leaves, he can still hear her ask you what’s eating you, and this gives him the level of calmness he needs now to focus on the patient. You’ll be fine. You have a safety net here.
# # # #
Therapy’s been good for you.
The one with his therapist, not the one with your old one. You don’t even go to see that woman anymore, you get all the support you need from the man who helped Jack through tough times as well.
You don’t have nightmares as often as you used to after only five or so sessions, and you don’t even consider leaving the hospital anymore. You’re once again like your old self–confident, sometimes a little cocky and sarcastic.
And that’s good. He needs this, he needs to know you’re okay in every sense of the word.
But despite not suffering from the nightmares anymore, you don’t stop sleeping in his bed, in fact, you more often than not end up in his arms somehow, your head resting on his chest while you sleep.
He loves it. He loves every single second of it, because you’re safe, you’re happy, and you haven’t changed your mind about living with him. Every single day, he’s getting closer and closer to making the first move, tired of this stupid limbo you’re both stuck in.
You want this just as much as he does, it’s painfully obvious, yet neither of you has made a move yet. It’s like some weird waiting game, when you’re expecting the other to take the first step, which might end up in heartbreak if he's not careful enough.
Because if he waits for too long… You might get bored, you might change your mind and leave without giving the two of you a real chance.
But then, on a regular Wednesday afternoon, some time after noon when the both of you wake up after a night shift, you stop him from getting out of bed. You don’t say a word, not at first, but then you lean closer to kiss him, gently and slowly, waiting for his reaction that can give you a clear picture of what he wants.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks you quietly when you stop for a second to take a better look at him.
A small smile appears on your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this for way too long already,” you respond without a hint of hesitation in your voice.
Jack lets out a sigh as he nods, then pushes a strand of hair out of your face. “You know,” he begins, “having you here with me made the past few months way better. I don’t know what I would do if you ever decided to leave.”
This wasn’t supposed to be said out loud, but here he is, telling you exactly how pathetically and desperately in love he is with you. Luckily, you don’t seem to mind. You’re watching him with the same, loving smile, your fingers tracing his face as your eyes focus on his lips.
You inhale slowly, then once you exhale softly, you break the short silence. “Unless you feel like throwing me out, I don’t know if I would ever want to leave. This… this is good, right? What we have,” you add to clarify.
“This is perfect.”
A wide grin appears on your face at this, then you lean over to kiss him again, this time not stopping there.
summary: Jack realizes he shouldn't be this desperate to fix something that can't be fixed.
pairing: Jack Abbot x consultant!reader
warnings: bitter end
note: I started writing it based on Before You Leave Me by Alex Warren, then... it turned into this.
It was a slap in the face, one he knew would leave a mark. Because what do you mean you’re leaving? And did you really mean that you’re not coming back, that it’s not just a stupid break until you consider how to move on with this relationship?
Jack is serious when it comes to the two of you, what you have means a lot to him, but finding out you’re opting out of this… God, was it him who messed up somehow? It’s hard not to blame himself, he’s been hurt one way or another several times in the past, and what if it's his fault again?
Knowing you’ve already packed your things that’s been slowly brought over to his place over the past year or so makes him desperate to convince you to stay, to give your relationship another chance by talking openly about the problem you see.
And, in the end, what leaves his mouth is, “Just one more night. Stay for one more night, as if there was nothing wrong between us, like you weren’t planning to leave me.”
This request is bordering pathetic, he’s aware of that, but how could he say anything else when this is all he wants? Who knows, maybe he can convince you to stay with him, maybe he can change your mind about this stupid decision of yours.
You inhale then exhale slowly as you consider his request, your eyes never leaving his face, and so he can see the cracks on the determined mask you’ve been wearing. Maybe there’s a chance you didn’t even truly want to leave, you just convinced yourself to do it for a reason unknown to him.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally speak up, and your voice is surprisingly uncertain. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say eventually, but he can tell you don’t really mean it. And just like he guessed, when he gives you a look of disappointment, you speak up again. “It won’t change my mind if I stay, but… fine.”
“Before we start acting like you weren’t planning to leave me,” Jack begins as he takes a step closer to you, “just tell me why you decided to end things between us. I didn’t notice the signs, I didn’t think you would do this anytime soon.”
“But you expected it to happen one day?” you wonder out loud with a raised brow.
Shaking his head, he leans against the back of the couch, his hands gripping it tightly as he tries to steady himself. “Call me a pessimist,” he then tells you.
With a sigh, you move closer to him–just two steps, but it still feels like you were standing right in front of him, just like you used to before all this. If it was fully up to him, he would kiss you now, just because he can, but sadly, right now it’s not an option, not yet. First, you need to finish this conversation, no matter how bad it hurts.
“Haven’t you discussed this with your therapist? I mean, if you did, didn’t he say something that could change your pessimist mind?”
He can’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You’re leaving, aren’t you? I was right,” he points out.
Then he notices something in your expression that stuns him. It’s fear, regret, or something like this, but maybe it’s closer to the look you have on your face when you’re about to tell him a secret.
You shake your head–just once and it’s accompanied by a sigh–before speaking up again. “I got a job in New York. Big consulting firm, more working hours, way higher salary, and a position I couldn’t say no to,” you admit.
A new job somewhere else? That’s why you’re breaking up with him? “Haven’t you considered that maybe I’d gladly go with you if you asked? I’m sure there are hospitals there too,” he adds with a disappointed shake of his head.
“You love it here, you–”
“My home is where you are. And if it’s New York, then it’s fucking New York.”
For the first time since you announced you’re breaking up with him, he can see the traces of your true feelings for him. Because you still love him, he can tell, but him? Finding out you thought he wouldn’t go with you, that slipping out of his life like that was a good idea made him think. Does he even want to bother fixing this?
It’s a sudden thought, one he doesn’t even know where came from, but as the seconds pass, he’s more and more sure that now he wouldn’t move with you. What’s the point of trying when you already made up your mind that leaving him would be the best option? Even if it wasn’t an easy decision, you still made it, and it speaks volumes to him.
Is he that desperately lonely when he’s not in a relationship? Is it worth risking moving to another city, only to be broken up with within a month? The more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes that the answer is no. He should stay here, let you go, and hope one day you realize how badly you fucked up.
And then? When you crawl back begging him to take you back?
Maybe he will be the one who says no to you.
“So you would come with me? No hesitation?” you ask eventually, too late to hear the answer you’re probably expecting to hear now.
Because Jack takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. “If you told me the moment you got the job, I would have. Now? I highly doubt it,” he responds.
You gulp, but you nod. This is the moment when you realize the mistake you made. When you realize you gave up a perfectly healthy relationship for assuming the worst about him.
summary: As it turns out, Robby needs a reason to stay away from trouble.
pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x attending!reader
warnings: mention of Robby planning something stupid
note: God, that scene was HOT. Geeez. Haven't heard this tone since Aaron Hotchner, and that was a while ago...
You gulp, clear your throat, and return your attention to what’s happening around you in the room. As you take a quick look around, you can still see the surprise on the others’ faces, and you know perfectly well why that is. The reason is simple: all of you heard Robby be mad before and yelling someone’s head off, but this? This was different.
And you’re going to hell for this, but God, wasn’t it the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed?
That poor woman was begging her boss not to fire her, and then came Robby as reinforcement and basically told that man to go and fuck himself. This was the right thing to do, of course, but he didn’t have to do it. No one asked him to, he just had enough and did it without probably even thinking about it.
Despite the fact he could be a real asshole sometimes, these moments show a side of him that you find truly attractive. These are rare, but still, you try to enjoy them as long as you can, storing these memories on a special shelf in your brain.
Half an hour later your mind is still occupied by this thought, even while you’re busy charting, using the goddamn AI solution Santos also struggles with as far as you know, but Robby will be gone, and if using this thing is expected in the next three months, then you’d better get used to it fast.
Even though you fucking hate it already.
Since you’re not paying attention to your surroundings, no one has the chance to warn you that someone’s standing behind you, and you almost drop the microphone when said person places a hand on your shoulder.
“Fuck!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Robby says with a hint of humor in his voice.
This asshole is having the time of his life scaring the poor doctors of the ER. With a sigh, you place the microphone on the desk, then turn around with the chair to look at him. You were scared of him just a bit over a year ago, when you were still a resident, but now you’re an attending–who isn’t even supposed to be here, you just took over someone else’s shift as a favor–so you have nothing to be afraid of.
The only thing that can scare you is his vast medical knowledge, but something tells you this is about something else entirely. “What is it?” you ask, trying to keep yourself calm.
Robby nods towards the break room, and you follow him without a question. “How’s the charting going with this method? Santos isn’t exactly having the time of her life from what I can see,” he says on the way there.
You give him a sharp look, then let out a sigh. “I type fast, it would be much easier to write it down once, not dictate it, then correct it afterwards. It’s bullshit, but don’t tell anyone I said that,” you add.
He lets out a quiet chuckle as you enter the break room, and once he makes sure no one’s there, he pours himself a cup of coffee and goes, “What are you doing tonight?” He doesn’t turn to look at you, he focuses on his stupid cup, but when he realizes you’re not sure how to answer, he finally lets out a sigh to turn around. “I was thinking about a movie and dinner,” he tells you.
He doesn’t look nervous, in fact, he looks unusually smug. You can’t remember the last time you saw him look like this. Because it’s not the professional kind of smug, it’s something different. And it’s weird, and kind of scary, and you’d rather run out of the room to continue charting.
But a part of you doesn’t want to leave, instead of moving, it asks, “With who?” It’s a logical question, but maybe you could have been a little more… subtle about your confusion.
Robby can’t be fooled, though, he laughs into your face. “You, obviously,” he responds. “What do you say?”
“Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? You should prepare and sleep instead,” you point out.
“Or I should use this opportunity to have something to think about while I’m gone.”
“Like what?”
Shaking his head, he leans down to kiss you. It’s not hungry, not something that gives you butterflies, it’s just a simple, quick kiss that’s only testing the waters. This is its only purpose, nothing more, nothing less. You hate to admit it, but it’s nice. And it makes you think about what he told you.
“And what makes you think I would wait months?” you wonder.
Robby shrugs. “Maybe that’s not what I need now.”
That’s when you understand. All of you have been talking about this, about how he might end up doing something stupid during this trip, something way worse than marrying some exotic dancer in Vegas, something irreversible.
Jack was the most worried about this, he was the one who mentioned this first to you, although then he asked you to keep it to yourself. He knew him better than anyone here, it’s obvious why it had to be him to tell you about the conversations they sometimes had on the roof.
But why he thought it was important you knew about this was a mystery.
Until now. Now you understand why. Because maybe you’re the one who can change his mind in the end.
“Just don’t do anything dumb while you’re gone, okay?” you ask him quietly as you stand on your toes to give him a quick kiss.
Robby nods, then he picks up his coffee cup to leave the room with it.
omg anon, you're the nicest! ❤️ seriously, i'm glad at least one person on this planet likes it (because I hate it, lol, i would delete most of my stories if it was up to me)