Pink Doughnuts - Dr Jack Abbot x F!Doctor!Reader
Summary: You left Pittsburgh with a cavernous hole in your heart, and return to find pieces of it shattered across the floor years later. In fact, you ran far, far away. But will a honky tonk bar, Danaâs birthday and hazel eyes that make you feel like the world will collapse from under your feet somehow draw you back in?
Notes: SoâŠthis is my first time posting ANYTHING on any forums, let alone Tumblr or AO3, in about 9 years. Please forgive a starved wannabe-hobbyist writer for any mistakes.
This has not been betaâd. Iâm honestly terrified to let another single person read itâŠso it only made sense to let it loose on the world at once right?
In saying that, please please please let me know if you are enjoying this little teaser of a chapter. Iâve got a whole lot more lined up, but am utterly terrified that Iâll do a disservice to my people.
The Pitt and Jack Abbott have sufficiently ruined my life. I cannot stop the mania. Hope you enjoy!
All my work is my own, yadda yadda. Reposting is not permitted on any other platforms without my express consent and appropriate credit.
AO3: Pittifully_Yours
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Your footsteps echo quietly into the night air as you slowly come to halt in front of the bar doors.
The thrum of the night coming alive in the city was normally electrifying - music spilling from bars as doors are pulled open and closed, laughing and love-sick couples walking arm-in-arm, cab horns piercing as they push along groups of young people making their way around, so engrossed in each other and oblivious to the world around them. You took a deep breath, feeling part of your chest rattle a little at the familiar sounds, smellsâŠit felt like home.
And as soothing a thought as that was, you canât wipe the furrowed brows from your face as you peer up at the huge, neon sign spelling out âTHE TWO STEPâ in multicoloured lights. Of course the mandated cowboy hat dangled over the bright letters, almost like it was tipped in a nod of welcome.
And yet you continued to stare at the dark oak doors, adorned with brushed brass knobs, almost as if waiting for it to magically come to life and tell you to hurry up and come in from the cool Pittsburgh winds.
âThis is such a dumb idea,â you mumble under your breath. But itâs not like you were here of your own volition - hell, you hadnât even stepped foot in a Honky Tonk bar before. And never even realised this particular one existed in the countless years you resided in Pittsburgh.
But for Dana, youâd move mountains. Three weeks ago, your email tone had âbingâed on your phone and you couldnât stop the smile that had pulled softly at your mouth once you read the name of the sender.
âHey kid,
Would love it if you can make it, understand if you canât though. Miss you.
Big hugs,
Danaâ
The email attachment was clearly (and very cleverly) designed by one of her daughters, decorated in old school, Western movie-style fonts, outlines of cowboy boots, and spelling out the pertinent birthday party details. It stated that it was a big one for Dana, but didnât specify an exact number. Not that it particularly mattered - no one would dare ask Dana anyway.
But that was how you found yourself on the sidewalk in front of the bar, decked out in an old band t-shirt, one of those little skirts with fringes dangling down the sides sitting just above your knees, and a pair of black heeled boots. Still, rooted in place, heart skipping in a way that you knew was anxiety and not something more concerning, and still frowning at the door to the damn place.
A little voice in your head just echoed the sentiments from before, about how stupid this was, how it could become a really awkward night, and how being gone for 3 years might make this more un-welcoming than youâd ever imagined.
But a more certain thought came to the forefront of your consciousness, with clarity and sincerity - âfor Danaâ.
And so you took a deep breath, a few steps towards the entrance and turned the door handle to the bar.
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The inside of âThe Two Stepâ was dimly lit, but still emitted a warm glow. Various glowing beer brands, photos of famous country music legends and more neon letters spelling out cheesy phrases on across the walls. Fairy lights stream above the dance floor, and in front of the hardwood floors that are scuffed from years of stomping boots, is a live band covering what you recognise as a modern country song from the long drive that got you here.
And as you take in the faint smell of leather, sweet barbecue grease from the kitchen and stale beer, you hear your name shouted from further in and snap your head forward to see a huge, lopsided grin on the beautiful blonde walking your way, arms already outstretched.
You step into the hug that exuded warmth - maternal, loving and cherished in every sense of the word.
âItâs been too long, kid. Weâve seriously missed you.â Dana whispers to you.
âAnd I canât believe you let them throw you a cowboy-themed 21st birthday againâ, you reply, mirth dripping all over your words as Dana pulls away to scan your face. Her eyes bore into every part of you, ignoring your teasing and scanning, as if you needed medical clearance to stay at her birthday party.
âIf I buy you enough tequila shots tonight, do we get to see you on the mechanical bull?â you continue, while she finishes appraising you, seeming to find some kind of answer in your face that sheâs semi-content with in her evaluation and throws you a wry smile.
âFuck no, ainât enough tequila in the world for that shit.â she scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of the massive mechanical bull penned off in the corner of the bar.
âBut I reckon if we team up and give Whiticker just enough,â she continues, pinching her fingers together to show the fine balance of her proposal, âheâll have the ride of his life.â
You throw your head back as a wicked cackle escapes you and the glint in Danaâs eyes turn from scheming to warm concern in a matter of milliseconds. Her hands are on the top of your arms, almost as if she wants to keep you glued in place.
âSeriously though, you doinâ okay over in California, hon?â
âIâm okay, promiseâ you breathe, a light smile tugging at your lips at the sight of her worry. âSeriously, itâs not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. The sunâs always out, the food is amazing, and the hospital Iâm at is great. But the charge nurse could probably use some of your pizzazz.â
You wink at her, but your attempt to appear blasé falls flat as the worry still reigns supreme over Dana.
âOkay,â she says with an almost sigh, âjust donât go turning into one of those assholes doing dog yoga on the beach with a kale smoothie. Then Iâll know Iâve lost ya forever.â
âNeverâ, you whisper in a hushed, solemn voice - nodding your head and making direct eye contact like itâs the most serious vow youâve ever sworn.
She nods her head back at you, seeming to shake off the air of concern.
âCome on, kid, thereâs a few people that have been itching to see youâ, Dana says. She leads you by the hand further into the bar, and you look up to see a few familiar faces sprinkled throughout different sections of the venue.
You smile at the thought of all these people here to celebrate Dana; an ode to the woman she was and the way in which people gravitate around her.
You almost crash into her as she suddenly stops and spins towards you again, face pulled into a grimace and realisation suddenly dawning in those eyes.
âWhat now?â you joke, eyebrows pulled upwards in surprise - Dana was never caught off guard. Her face grimaced a little, looking like she was dreading whatever she was about to say. You stood there in silence with her for a second, face confused but waiting for her to spit whatever it was out.
âJackâs here, yâknowâ, she mentions in a soft exhale. She almost cringing at having to tell you this piece of information - a heads up, word of warning, cautionary offering in whatever shape it took.
Not that it mattered, since you already knew.
Less so of a âknowingâ and more of a âsensingâ.
The skin-prickling awareness, heavy and filled with something more than a cursory glance that you had felt as soon as the bell on the bar door had chimed the announcement of your entry. You knew the bellâs chime was too quiet to be heard against the strumming of the band and the voice crooning in the microphone, the laughter and sound of beer glasses clinking to rest on sticky tables around the bar.
But he heard it anyway. You felt those eyes tracking your every movement, head to toe, step by step as you moved through the space - and that felt familiar too.
Like pulling on an old sweater that lay discarded over summer and is picked up as the cooler months creep in. Well worn, sliding over your skin and giving you goosebumps of familiarity. The weight of his gaze from somewhere in this bar was a sensation you knew well.
Revelled and cherished in, once.
Sought out with hunger, even rage sometimes.
And a sensation you didnât know what to do with anymore.
Your gaze pulls over Danaâs shoulder, sensing that his close proximity in this direction caused the crashing-to-a-halt-to-give-a-warning approach to this whole conversation.
And just as the motion of someone moving away from one of the wooden, circular tables on the opposite side of the bar catches your eye, there you see him.
Staring directly at you from across the room.
Sitting with a few others, cradling a beer glass in his hand and completing ignoring the conversations occurring around him.
Hazel eyes locked on you - pinning you in that spot, not daring to breathe while he holds onto your gaze with a powerful grip. You stare back, rising to the challenge and forcing yourself to suck in a breath.
Seconds that feel like a millennia pass. Youâre struggling to gulp down air, and would be worried about the bar having a carbon monoxide poisoning issue with the accompanying head spins you were currently wading throughâŠbut you know it was just him. The effect he had on you - gripping, and unending, and unshakeable even with your mightiest efforts.
Those eyes, flecked with green and brown that you knew well, struck a magically fine balance of looking hard and broken at the same time.
The thumping of boots towards and on the dance floor as the band picked up the pace behind you now seemed like a distant echo.
And it isnât until Dana softly grabs hold of your arm, gently saying your name in a tone thatâs not unlike soothing a child, that you finally snap out of it.
You were prepared for this, this little voice echoes in your head. Heâll probably avoid you, and you stay as far away as possible, and itâll all be fine.
You force your eyes to make contact with Danaâs, who has evidently returned to the state of worry and concern you had literally just appeased with your smiles and jokes earlier.
âItâs fine, Danaâ you say, the most superficially composed smile growing on your face.
You berate yourself into projecting an easy calm in your voice, ignoring the twitching of your fingers and repressing the urge to cross your arms and curl into yourself. God, it was her birthday - she didnât need to be fretting on you like this.
âWeâre all big boys and girls here. Itâs really not a problem!â
Fuck, if only your voice hadnât squeaked at the end of that sentence and given away the cracks in your false confidence.
Danaâs eyebrow furrowed again, eyes squinting and seemingly assessing the bullshit you were pouring forth. Equally assessing whether now was a good time to call you on it.
âListen, if-â
A squeal accompanied by arms wrapped around you quite literally yanked you from the conversation, spinning your around and finding the face of one Cassie McKay.
âI canât believe you made itâ she semi-squealed, pulling you into a fierce hug. âYou have no idea how much Iâve missed this face!â
You hear Dana sigh, followed by a familiar male voice as youâre pulled from Cassieâs arms.
âHey! Stop hogging her!â Frank bellowed, only semi-joking. You are again torn from Cassieâs embrace into the quick but tight one from Langdon, smiling and winking over his shoulder at Mel.
âJesus, can you stop pulling me around like a rag doll please? Youâre gonna give a girl a complex!â, you chuckle.
Frankâs stint at rehab had left him angry at the world - torn between hating himself for every misstep that landed him there, and everyone else around him. As soon as you had heard about it all though (via your group chat with Princess and Perlah), you started messaging him across the platforms. Text, Instagram, Facebook, you name it. Initially, you were thoroughly iced out - 3.5 weeks of complete and utter silence on his end in response to your incessant, one-sided jabbering. It took an absolutely repugnant TikTok video link to a video comparing animals with their celebrity look-alikes that finally broke the ice.
âAre you sure you arenât the one who should be monitored 24/7 and in a 12 step program right now?â, was all you got back from Frank. But you knew it was enough to remind him that the sibling-like bond you had forged in the trenches of the Pitt were not forgotten to time or distance. And so you kept it up, sending him inane videos and memes, knowing it would make him scoff a laugh and question your sanity - even after his time at the facility was done and he had returned to work.
âYou look pretty good for someone who spent 6 months in a padded cell,â you joke, still holding onto his shoulders.
âIt was rehab, you asshole, not a goddamn asylum from the 1950s.â He replies, shaking his head but still laughing quietly.
âWhatever. Just count yourself lucky Mel seems to like them a little bit coo-cooâŠâ
You make circle motions on the side of your head in the universal sign for âcrazyâ, winking and laughing as you duck behind Frank to give Mel a warm hug (and sweep stealthily away from an arm gesture you knew meant he was coming to pull and / or mess up your hair).
Mel giggled into your shoulder as you said hello, and you fist-bumped a greeting to Whitaker who stood behind her shoulder.
You hear Danaâs name being called from a distance, and wave her off with a âgo, goâ motion while you caught up with the rest of the group that had corralled around you, smiling in re-assurance to the charge nurse to take her leave comfortably.
Before you know it, a glass was dangling in front of your face, connected to a familiar arm stretched over your head. You reach the glass filled with what looks to be your standard drink order, and turn to find Robbie with a small, hesitant smile on his face.
âHey there, stranger.â He quips, âReckon itâs my turn for a hello hug?â
You could spot the awkwardness on him from a mile away. The drink was the alcoholic equivalent to an âI come in peaceâ sign to an alien - cautious, attempting to be friendly, but fully prepared to be rebuked.
A part of you that had hardened over the years cracked, seeping a slight warmth into your veins at the sight of him expecting to be shunned by association.
You pulled him into a death grip - eyes welling a bit, and a deep breath echoing through you at the friend, the mentor, the truest kind of family you used to know wrapping his arms around you.
âI tried to call,â he mumbled weakly into your shoulder, almost pathetically.
âI know. Iâm sorry,â you whispered back.
âI thought you hated me.â He replies pathetically.
You pull away, connecting his slightly watery gaze to yours.
âNever.â
You quickly dab at your face, making sure mascara wasnât leaking from the outpouring of love you never expected to be graced with in his bar, while Robbie makes quick work to do the same on his zip up jacket sleeve.
âNow,â you begin, âwhere is my ridiculously hot best friend who happens to be married and spawning offspring with you?â
âPutting said offspring turned hellion to bed before the babysitter arrives,â he chuckles.
You smack his arm and gasp, putting an exaggerated hand to your chest.
âDonât you dare speak about my godson like that. He is a ray of sunshine and Iâll hear nothing else on the matter.â You defend, frowning at him with a threat in your eyes.
âYeah, yeah,â Robbie replies, shaking his head, âtell that to me when heâs standing over you, breathing heavily and whispering about chicken nuggets under his breath at 3am while youâre trying to sleep.â
You cackle at the vision of it all, laughing harder at the thought of Grayâs curly head of hair and deep chocolate eyes looming above Robbie every night like something that needed to be exorcised.
âHeaven help me when she gets hereâŠâ he begins rubbing a hand up and down his face, the picture of exhaustion at their years of antics together.
âAhhh shut up, youâve missed me,â you chide, softly elbowing his stomach after he turns to stand beside you and his arm wraps around your shoulder.
Robbie sighs deeply.
âWe really have, Y/N. We really have.â
You smile quietly, before Robby continues.
âAnd not just the day shiftâŠâ
Your sharp intake of breath is enough for Robbie to know heâs said too much, or the wrong thing altogether. His eyes are tainted with an apology - but also a truthfulness that makes you clench your glass and take a deep sip of your drink through the straw.
His saviour comes in the form of an arm looped through yours, Cassieâs, as she drags you to the dancefloor. And as you pull away from Robbie, your bittersweet smile at him lets him know heâs off the hook.
He raises his own glass in a soft motion and nods, seemingly making his way to the back of the room before disappearing from view altogether.
You are spun in your boots on the sticky dancefloor, tassels on your skirt swaying as you join the group dancing to the band. Mel, Frank, Cassie, Dennis, Trinity, Samira, Javadi and Matteo clap, holler, stomp and step to the country jam being belted out on the guitars and drums in front of you all. You give the four you hadnât seen yet a quick âhelloâ and warm smile, turned quickly into a full on belly laugh and cackle as Whitaker whips out a quick country two-step and some moves that were evidently reminiscent of his farm boy youth. Jaws drop and suddenly heâs giving them all a crash course in Line Dancing 101, Frank surprisingly struggling the most.
And this right here, this sense of joy, wholehearted, unabashed, and enveloping, had been missing from your sunny, Californian existence.
You signal that youâre headed to the bar with your empty glass, and turn to make the short walk over. Stepping up to the bar top, you signal the barkeep in a Stetson who promises to head over to you next.
And then it hits you. The goosebumps and tingling - the sensing you had picked up on before. But this time stronger, more intense and evidently triggered by the final steps closer of a presence to your left that youâd be able to spot in the dark without any light.
The smell of him alone almost caused your knees to wobble, held up straight only by your nails that had seemed to embed themselves into the sticky wood of the bar top.
Looking straight ahead at the selection of top shelf spirits, your brain felt like it was misfiring a chant that wouldnât manifest.
Heâll ignore you, you ignore him.
Heâll ignore you, you ignore him.
Heâll ignore you, you ignore him.
But there was no ignoring the warmth exuding from the body that was a whisper's distance from yours now, seemingly intent on causing your heart to palpate, almost to the point of medical intervention. Your hands were getting clammier by the second, knowing that the eyes boring into the side of your face had once been softened through gentle caresses and whispered confessions.
He says nothing, but from your peripheral you can see the sculpted frame leaning on the bar top, elbows on a sticky surface, fingers intertwined, solid forearms with a bulging vein as though it took physical might to restrain himself from touching you. And while every element of his body looked the picture perfect portrayal of composure, she knew that those hazel eyes wouldnât be pointed with rage, or fury, or pleading at the same line of vodka and scotch on the bar wall that you would be. They would be squarely and firmly placed on you.
So in a move so wildly stupid, so incessantly moronic, and against every fibre in your being telling you to run from a world of pain in those hazel eyes, you turn your head so that you are face to face.
And the most juxtaposing cacophony of cold hard steel, pain and anger flares as he takes in your face from this distance.
âHello, Jack.â







