‘Are you really quoting the bible right now?’ ‘No, Fleabag.’ Jack Abbot x Chef!Reader
Part 1
Tags: MDNI, SMUT, P.I.V., no protection (wrap it up irl tho, there’s already too many of us), missionary, Jack “talk you through it” Abbot, reader in her 20s (self-indulgence as always), porn with plot, jealous Jack, misunderstandings,
A/N: so i finally finished the first season of the Pitt and had to tweak a bit of the story for my version of abbot to make sense lol and i thought ‘how do i put myself in the mind of a fifty year old man with a crush?’ And this came outttttt. Hope you enjoy and sorry for the delay! Also, i got bit by a dog yesterday and had to go to my local ER and it was nothing like the Pitt lmao, doctor was cute tho, might have to injure myself more often (kidding, im already pretty accident prone)
Ps: why do i always en up making my characters fuck in a restaurants like???? Should i unpack that in therapy?
Ps2: how the fuck do i make my deviders transparent? Technology= water, me= oil.
Word count: 13.5k (i have a lot to say about this man)
You were discharged around seven a.m. by one of the nurses gently shaking you awake by the shoulder; discharge papers and a fresh PTMC sweatshirt and blue sweatpants in her hands.
“Oh- those aren’t mine…”
“I know dear,” then she pulled up a ziplock from the floor, inside the bloody and cut remnants of your uniform. “-but I didn’t think you’d like to go home in these.”
An embarrassed tint covered your face and your hands would have flown to cover your mouth if it wasn’t hard to flex your elbow with the extra gauze. “Wh- why is it…” instead of finishing the sentence, your fingers made a cutting motion with your middle and pointer.
The nurse smiled gently back, placing the clothes by the foot of the bed. “You were going into cardiac arrest from the loss of blood so Dr. Abbot had to give your heart a little shock to get your beat back into rhythm.”
“Oh.” ‘So he saw my tits. Great.’
Her words carried a calming tone, one that would have worked in slowing your nerves if it didn’t mean the doctor you were crushing on a few hours ago had seen, well… you.
“Would you like me to call anyone to come get you while you change?” She asked, pulling you from the spiral your thoughts were taking you down.
You shook your head, on instinct reaching up with your injured arm to tuck your hair behind your ear, then hissed at the sensation of a pulled stitch. “Uh, no I’m good, thank you. I live pretty close by.” She nodded one last time then turned to pull the curtain before you caught her attention. “Mam- could you thank Dr. Abbot for me, please? Tell him the dinner invitation still stands.” Her smile displayed soft yet teasing, your cheeks growing hot under her gaze, then she nodded again and pulled the curtains around the bed, the door clicking shut shortly after.
Fifteen minutes later, you stood outside the emergency exit, lit cigarette hanging loosely from your fingertips and eyes lost over the dried blood splatters painting your work shoes. You gripped the ziplock between your chest and healthy arm and balanced on one foot while the other rubbed futile kicks over the stains.
Abbot spotted your back the second he pushed past the crystal doors, the scent of tobacco and crisp morning air caressing his face. The sweatshirt he’d dug from his locker ill fitting over your shoulders and practically swallowing half the sweatpants he rescued from lost and found; making you appear younger than the twenty-somethings he knew you were.
His grip over the strap across his chest tightened and he turned towards the oposite end of the street, but didn’t move. Instead, he turned back to look at you again, too focused on your feet to notice him or his internal debate.
He sighed and tipped his body forward, urging his legs to move in the opposite direction. He was tired and hungry and slightly pissed off like after every shift and all he wanted to do was drop unconscious over his mattress at least for a few hours. So he wasn’t sure why the moment his foot moved forward, he turned the rest of his body and advanced closer to your back.
The closer he got, the more he could hear you cursing under your breath.
“Leaving with no goodbye-“ He spoke out, cut short by your sharp turn and loss of balance. He reached one strong arm out to grip around your back before both of your feet landed safely on the pavement. “-shit. You’re really accident prone, you know that?”
“‘M fine.” You mumbled mostly to the ground, tousled hair hiding the beet red of your face. “Besides, you really shouldn’t surprise people like that- could’a had a heart attack-“
“-theres no history of heart conditions in your chart.” Abbot bantered back. “You also shouldn’t be smoking outside an E.R. Minutes after being discharged…” His smile grew to the side as you rolled your eyes, pulling your arm from behind your back, where you failed to hide the fragile tube.
“You’re a lot more pissy under natural lighting…” You mumbled again and placed the tube between your lips, taking a quick drag while leaning down to pick up the fallen ziplock, then straightened up and blew out.
He exhaled a mixture of a sigh and laugh, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his head back to look down at you through tired slits. “Yeah, twelve hours of crazy will do that to a person…”
“Hear, hear.” You circled two fingers in the air in agreement. “Plus, this is breakfast. Doctor’s orders.”
“Ah…” He nodded slow in faux understanding. “Thought kids your age preferred sucking on flavored USBs- ‘watermelon ice’ or whatever the fuck its called.”
Your soft laugh curled into a snort when you caught your breath, hand combing up your hair as you looked along the street. “I guess I’m more into vintage things…” You half joked with a shrug, taking another drag and averting your gaze towards the flushed doctor for a split second.
You offered the lit tube in his direction, unsure if he smoked but mostly out of curtesy and swallowed hard. His fingers came in contact with yours over the fragile paper, only for a second and warmer now without the latex barrier between them. Instead of declining or taking a drag like a normal person, Abbot rose the cigarette into view, inspecting the ember tip, then flung it to the ground and stepped it off.
“Wha-“ You protested with open arms, turning to him.
“C’mon, I’ll buy you actual breakfast. Doctor’s orders.”
Before you could keep protesting, he began walking towards the street and stopped, waiting for a red light. A few seconds later, he turned to see you standing by his side, cradling your bag between both arms like a lifeline and swinging on the balls of your feet. He turned back to the streetlight, another grin over his usually stoic features.
“Nice sweatshirt.”
“Shut up.”
His grin grew.
*****
The bell above your head dinged as the doctor pushed open the door, letting you step in first under his extended arm. The warmth and scent of coffee and maple syrup filled your lungs once fully inside, a hard contrast from the gloomy morning cold outside.
“Mornin’ Jack-“ The woman behind the counter greeted with a sweet smile that you couldn’t help but replicate. “Same as usual?”
Abbot nodded and rose a ‘two’ signal with his fingers. “Thanks Dolores…” You heard his tired voice behind you, then felt the warmth of his palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you inside. “Booths are better.”
“Come here often?” You asked teasing and slid into the last booth, immediately pulling up your legs and crossing them over the cushion.
He huffed out a laugh and shot you a look, pulling the strap of his bag off his chest and letting it fall heavily by his side- then groaned a tired sigh once he finally sat on something more comfortable than the bedside stools.
“Couple times a week for the last fifteen years…”
“Holy shit…”
He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “…they make really good waffles.”
“And how many patients have you brought over those fifteen years?” You bit the inside of your cheek as soon as the words slipped out, eyes slits as they scanned over his concealed posture.
“First time for everything…”
You hummed and nodded slowly, brows raised in surprise then letting your gaze fall over your fingers, unable to hold his for any longer. “Flattered.”
“…and last.” He added and watched as your eyes darted back up, growing his grin.
Your lips tilted up into a fake smile, then back to neutral ground. “Un-flattered.”
He stared for a few seconds longer than he intended- only looking away when two steaming mugs of coffee were placed- and watched you people watch with your chin over your palm, heavy in thought. Abbot was curious to know what you were thinking. Were you thinking about him? Judging his breakfast choices? Or maybe his rusty casual conversation skills?
He watched how your eyes would drift closed every few seconds- heavy head slightly tipping with exhaustion- then grow alert again towards the glass. He hadn’t considered that you were just as sleep deprived as he, maybe even more because at least his fucked up body was already used to it. And while he was outside working, adrenaline rushing thick through his veins, you were inside. Alone and probably too concerned to even get a wink of sleep.
“How’re you felling?” He asked before the question had even processed as adequate through his mind. But he was also having breakfast with a patient, so he wasn’t sure where the line of ‘adequacy’ was blurred.
‘A patient you also called beautiful.’ The back of his mind screamed, but he dismissed it when your wide stare melted back to his.
Your glossy eyes blinked a few times to dissipate the sleep and a deep inhale filling your lungs before you opened your mouth to speak. Then your gaze diverted past him and the intent of conversation vanished behind a polite smile.
“Alright-“ Dolores appeared behind him with two hefty plates on her hands. “- bacon, waffles and an extra crispy hash brown. Heartburn included, Tums sold separately.” She joked and you laughed politely before thanking her.
She turned to leave then took a step back towards the table, your attention immediately on her again.
“I’m sorry, this is weird but you look very familiar- do I know you from somewhere?”
You swallowed the sip of coffee and put the mug down, face warm from the steam and Abbot’s curious eyes.
“Uhm yeah, actually-“ Your eyes flickered between her and the man sitting in front of you. “-my dad used to bring my brother and I for breakfast on Sundays.”
Her hands rose over her mouth then clasped one another over her chest.
“Eli Parker’s kid?” You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear out of nervous habit. “Of course! Oh honey, what’s it been- five, six years? Where’d you go?”
You nodded again, actively ignoring the questioning expression holding Abbot’s face hostage. “I was in culinary school, up in New York.”
“That’s amazing! I’m sure Eli’s so proud-“ Your throat closed off instantly, heartbeat thumping quickly under the fresh stitches and you pulled the sleeve higher over the gauze, as if you could protect you from the upcoming question. “- haven’t seen him in a while, how is he?”
There it was, the three simple words you had been avoiding long enough. Simple yet enough to block the airways to your lungs.
“Oh, he uhm-“ Your sight fell intense over the man across from you, creased brows already on you as he slowly set his mug down and swallowed tight. Your sight didn’t move as you spoke, a kind of anchor. “- he passed away, last year… actually.”
You could see the discomfort in her switch of posture, her hand going up to cover her mouth then stop midway and instead held both of them tight over her apron. Mostly your vision still sat on the doctor, who’s face stayed as calm as last night when he’d asked if you had tried to hurt yourself. You’re not sure what you expected, but you were thankful for the lack of it.
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry-“
You gulped dry and shook your head with an uncomfortable smile. “It’s okay, don’t be- it’s not like you killed him-“
Your eyes squeezed shut, frown setting deeper on your forehead with half a mind to slap yourself later; hoping that would help connect whatever cables were loose in your head that allowed you to say that out loud. When you opened them, you decided to set your attention on the coffee, only taking a peek at Abbot over your mug and feeling less nauseous from the ghost of his small smirk. ‘At least someone finds me funny.’
Dolores cleared her throat with a polite laugh. “Of course not- What about the restaurant? I remember it was like his third child.”
It’s your turn to laugh politely, though the comment doesn’t land as flavorful as she’d like.
“My brother and I are managing fine.”
“I’m so glad, dear.”
Abbot took it as his queue to distract the conversation just as she was about to ask another question, clearing his throat and asking for syrup. A relieved sigh deflated your chest when her stare finally settles on him, a sincere ‘thank you’ mouthed in his direction before your eyes are back on the warm plate.
You ignored the rest of their conversation, something about cold compresses and aching shoulders; advice you’re not sure you’ll need at least for another fifteen years.
Then she placed a tender hand over your shoulder that made you look up. “Don’t be a stranger okay, hun? And bring your brother around too.” You nodded one last time and smiled, genuine this time.
You’re back in the shared silence of utensils against porcelain and uncomfortably long sips of coffee. Your eyes didn’t waver much past your side of the table, but every once in a while you caught his contemplating you- if only for a split second- then back down to his plate.
A soft grin bloomed on his face, followed by a low chuckle that made you raise your head and brows in his direction.
“So you knew the waffles here sucked…” He asked through his mug, your sincere laugh brightening his mood and your own in less than eight words.
You nodded, hair tucked behind ears. “Yeah… but at least the coffee’s good.”
He snorted softly. “No it’s not.”
“Yeah, it sucks.”
*****
With the container of your half finished breakfast- and a slice of cherry pie Dolores pressed you to take for Parker- Abbot insisted on walking you home. Or rather herded you home, under the guise of ‘also going in that direction’. You didn’t mind though, the company was sort of nice and you were thankful he didn’t try to coax any more than what you were willing to tell him.
As you walked, he listened to you talk about growing up in the restaurant, the remodel and your subsequent undesired promotion.
On your first week as CDC, the men had locked you in the storage, ruined a pot’s worth of an expensive wine reduction, and booed you out during service twice. You hid in the alley by the dumpsters until service was over, drafting the ‘HELP WANTED’ ad through teary eyes and soft clouds of smoke.
Then before sending it, your pride took the best of you, with a little bit of ego mixed in there as well, forcing you to show up to your next shift. And the one after that.
It had taken you almost a year of hard work and a hardened attitude to achieve a somewhat decent level of respect.
Respect you definitely thought lost after the accident.
“You’re kidding…” His eyes grew slightly in surprise, a small smile curling up his features while you waited at a red light and shook your head slowly.
“Nope. Thumbs down and all, ‘til I was out of sight.” He blew out a short laugh that he tried to contain with the back of his hand, making you laugh along too. “-it’s okay! You can laugh-“
“Sorry, that’s just fucked up-“
“-IT was! But… I get them, I guess.” You shrugged and took some time to let your gaze wonder around the sights of the city, a commodity you hadn’t allowed yourself in a while.
“How so?” He asked, pulling your attention back down to earth.
You turned up to look at his side profile, ‘natural lighting suits him better’ you thought, then shrugged and turned back to the street. “I guess it was their way of grieving him too. They didn’t want some kid filling his shoes, they wanted him. But he was dead, and they needed someone to blame, so I didn’t take it personally.”
Abbot nodded absentminded, gaze lost in thought and you didn’t try to interrupt it, instead enjoyed the soft breeze and the strange looks you received every time you purposely swung the bloody ziplock a little too high.
After a few silent minutes, Abbot opened up about his own griefences for both the loss of his leg and, later on, the loss of his wife. How he struggled with his guilt for years after, until one day he grew tired of being pissed and sad all the time and searched for help.
“I fuckin hate therapy, but—” He shrugged and took a sip of the to go cup Dolores insisted he take, then grimaced.“- they’re right, it works.”
Your slow breaths fluttered over your cheeks, eyes darting over his face before voicing your thoughts out loud. “So when do things start getting better?”
A soft smile tipped up his right cheek and he turned to look at you for a few seconds. “Honestly, I have no idea… but I trust that they will.”
You copied his smile, eyes glued to his, then back down to your street, unable to meet his gaze for too long. “Well you know what they say ‘this too will pass’.”
Abbot frowned amused and tipped his head back to look down at you, curious. “Are you really quotin’ the bible right now?”
“What- no. Fleabag.”
“What the fuck is Fleabag?”
You spent the last ten minutes of your walk home explaining the plot to the masterpiece that was Fleabag, more of a monologue that included his short collaboration in the form of nods or hearty laughs that you weren’t sure how to feel about yet.
“Okay, but why ginniepigs?” He asked as you slowed your step to a halt by the stairs to your building
You shrugged. “I don’t think she ever says why…”
“But they’re important?”
“Oh very.” Another laugh.
You tucked your hair back for what felt like the thousandth time and turned to your building. “This is me. Thanks for breakfast… and the blood.”
He nodded again, hands tight over the strap of his bag and feet already taking a step back. “Take care of yourself, okay kid? I mean it.”
You rolled your eyes but still nodded and turned to the doors, then instantly turned back. “I was serious… by the way. You should come by sometime.” You spoke before he walked off. “The restaurant… I mean.”
Abbot nodded and visibly swallowed. “I will. Promise.”
His words brought a smile over your face, cheeks tight and warm, you bit your lip back to keep it from growing any bigger in fear it would split your face in half.
Instead you nodded and began your trip up the steps, turning once the lock clicked open and waving a last goodbye to the doctor.
The stupid grin and stupid flutter over your chest accompanied you throughout the elevator ride and into your apartment. Then vanished the second the muffled ringing grew alive from inside the ziplock.
With little care you unzipped the tie and dumped the contents on the kitchen counter, probably a health hazard with the amount of blood, and rummaged for your phone.
Parker had the most spectacular timing, truly beautiful. Calling you into work before your paid leave even started, on the verge of tears and complaining about how ‘the cooks say they won’t take orders from anyone but you’.
The sentence alone made you chuckle as you saved the containers inside the fridge. “You’re not serious.”
“I am— Ivan tried working the expo last night and they booed him out—“ You snorted again. “-it’s not funny, dude—“
“I mean, it is a little funny…”
“-they literally booed him out. Thumbs down and all. You have any idea how that looks from outside?”
“You know I do.”
“Right. I forgot.” You grew quiet on your end of the line and pulled a stool from under the counter, falling exhausted over it.
“So?” He asked again after the line grew silent.
“It’s been twelve hours, Parker. The stitches haven’t even closed yet.”
He groaned into the mic, and you rolled your eyes just imagining his face. Fucking nepo babies. “Please, dude, the guide people called and I don’t know what to say to them—“
“What guide people?”
“The guide people— the star people—you know, the one over the hostess stand dad wouldn’t ever fuckin’ shut up about? Those people.”
Your mouth grew dry. “The Michelin guide people?”
“Yeah.” You could hear him rub his face in frustration. “They’re coming in to see if we’re eligible for another one or…”
“…or we lose the one we have.”
“Yeah.”
You huffed and tipped your gaze to the ceiling, headache already beating softly in the back of your skull.
“When?”
“Starting next week. I can’t have the guys booing someone off the expo again— it’s an open kitchen for fuck’s sake.”
You huffed again and looked down towards your covered arm, lip caught between teeth as you remembered the doctor’s orders.
‘Take care of yourself, okay kid?’
Then a heavy breath exited your lungs as you pushed yourself off the counter, bandaged arm already reaching for your keys.
“I’ll see you in fifteen.”
“Yes! Yeah—okay!”
“I’m only supervising, okay? I’m not ending up in the E.R. again if the stitches burst.”
“Definitely-“
“And if they boo me out again, I swear to god Parker, I’m not coming back— screw the guide people.”
“Great way to talk to family-“
“-and you.”
*****
Jack Abbott was the definition of a man of habit. Black coffee and waffles at the same diner after his shift, sleep for a few hours, cook something easy for work, then hit the gym; except on Thursdays when he had therapy before work.
Despite the spontaneous SWAT jobs here and there, his routine was simple, precise to the point of unconsciousness. He had driven to and from places more than once without remembering any of it, but that’s how he liked it. He already had enough action in the E.D. to let it bleed into his daily life.
Which is why he hadn’t noticed it at first. How his body unconsciously did a double take when a patient looked a little too similar to you, or wondering if you had come by during the day to get your stitches taken out the week after breakfast.
Or how he would open a new tab on his iPad and search your restaurant whenever he had a minute to spare, sometimes. Most times.
Many times, actually.
Enough for Dana to notice it by the second time she caught him ogling the page in the nurse’s station instead of charting.
“Just book the damn reservation, Abbot.” She teased, passing behind him, her peripheral catching the display. Then she stopped in her tracks at the unfamiliar photo of the very familiar girl on the screen. “Whoa-“
Abbot quickly locked the device and placed it on the desk, his hand coming up to scratch the stubble with forced neutrality. She rounded the station with keening contact and a teasing curve over her mouth.
“She’s cute…” She focused on the documents on the desk, then looked back up through the slit of her glasses. “…when she’s not all covered in blood.”
His eyes darted up at the comment, and the growing smile over her face proved her point. Abbot tried crossing his arms and clearing his throat to hide the uncomfortable knot of getting caught.
He only lasted a few seconds under her stare before his mouth stuttered. “She invited me to dinner…”
Dana raised her brows, her smile still present. “So, like a date?”
“Well- no, I don’t think-” His feet switched uncomfortably.
“-keep going, you’re doing great hun-”
“-no D, it’s not a date.” He leaned back, answering frustrated. “What am I? Twelve?”
“Uh-huh.”
“She just… asked me to have dinner at her job.” He pursed his lips and nodded once, accepting the words like a plausible truth, because in all honesty, he wasn’t aware of what it was either.
Her smile didn’t falter, instead it grew higher with the slowed down chewing of her gum. “Sure…”
“She works at a restaurant, alright? It’s completely innocent.”
“Completely innocent.” Dana repeated, half her attention on the screen in front of her.
Abbot raised his head again in frustration, the lights far too bright for three in the morning. “She could be my kid, alright? It’s not like that-“
“-but she’s not, is she?”
He didn’t look up right away, his eyes lost in the infinite, slightly empty corridor across from him, more ‘q’ word than the regular shifts he was used to.
“You don’t have to feel guilty, y’know.” Dana spoke again, rounding the desk back to his side. “I think Abigail would be happy to see you try again.”
The words dragged his attention to his hand, thumb playing with the thick black band around his finger.
“How would I know if it is that?” He spoke after a few seconds. “A date?”
“You’ve been out of the game that long, huh?” Her teasing tuned down into something softer, his nervousness borderline adorable to see. “Did she ask ‘do you wanna go on a date with me, old man?’”
Abbot broke into a grin and shook his head. The whole situation seemed ridiculous when he thought about it, and talking to someone outside his head made him realize it even more.
“You’re right, it’s fuckin’ stupid anyway-“
“Hey- no, no- I didn’t say that.” Dana pointed a strong finger a few inches from his face. “I’m joking, alright? Just… stop overthinking it. If you wanna go, then go. And if it’s a date, then it’s a date. It’s okay to try again.” She patted his back in the practiced way a mother would, despite being a few years younger, then walked back to the corridor.
He smiled again without looking up and nodded slowly.
“Oh-“ Dana stopped and turned back, feigning a memory. “You’re gonna have to beat Whittaker to it, though-“ Abbot’s head darted back. “Cause he was real buddy buddy with her last week when he took her stitches out. Even got her number, I think.”
Dana’s taunting smile was back as she adjusted her glasses and turned to the chart in her hands, already dismissing any more comments and missing the ten-foot drop of his smile.
*****
The restaurant looked like any other, soft illumination bleeding out from the windows onto the street. A lively bar inside with music that bled through the brick.
So he wasn’t sure why he stood across it, hands in his pockets, and five minutes early to a reservation he made a week ago. If he still smoked, this would be the perfect moment to pulled one out and numb out the little nerves beginning to bubble in his chest. But he quit a long time ago.
So instead, Abbot pulled his hands from his pockets and cracked his knuckles as he finally moved towards the restaurant. ‘There’s no way you would know he’d been there anyway,’ he thought, and the idea seemed to cool him down for a second.
If he didn’t see the difference from the outside, he sure as hell saw it now. As the hostess guided him inside the dining room, his eyes grew accustomed to the soft lighting in the room; a grave comparison to the potent fluorescents of the hospital. Small potted plants and trees decorated the circumference, paintings hanging over the exposed brick and an open wine cellar occupying the back wall. All the tables sat arranged around an open concept kitchen to the back, that seemed to be the main attraction of the restaurant. It reminded him of the Italian vacations he always wanted to book but never got around to.
The biggest difference though, was you, standing in the middle of the chaos of the kitchen like a general commanding her soldiers in battle.
Your hair was more tamed than when he had met you, tucked into a neat bun at the nape of your neck, pristine apron over your chef whites and a concentrated scowl heavy over your brow. Your pen sat between your teeth, contemplating some notes, then with the same neutrality, you spoke something he wasn’t able to hear over the ambiance music and the glass that separated you from the dining area.
A soft smile broke over his face, nerves be damned, a hand almost clutching over his chest if it hadn’t been for the hostess calling for his attention. His table for one was tucked closest to the glass screen and Abbot wasn’t sure if he was pleased or anxious to be able to have you that close.
“Fire second course on table twelve, please-“ He somewhat caught the sweet velvet of your voice through the glass. “- two Seabass Ravioli, hold the Parm on one, thank you!”
A unison ‘Heard!’ Vibrated past the glass as he took a seat. He couldn’t help but notice the small proud smile blooming over your face from behind your pen and he couldn’t help his own with the sight of you.
“If it’s too noisy for you, we can change your table.” The hostess asked, but he shook his head without peeling his gaze from you.
“No, this is perfect, thank you.”
Between receiving the menu and water, his attention hung heavy on you. Your straight posture, your concentration on every ticket that printed beside you, your absolute dominion over the small group of people inside. Every once in a while, a comment would catch your attention and a grin or laugh would break your concentration.
He couldn’t say for sure how long he stared— admired— what seemed to be a different person than the one he had patched up in his E.D. or had breakfast with almost a month ago. The girl he had met felt too young, too fragile, trying to overcompensate with humor over the things that kept her up at night. But seeing you here, in your element, Abbot felt like he was seeing a whole different person. One in control of everything around her, self-assured, doubtless. And he suddenly grew weary of the sensation he had been ignoring for a while, the one he had thought harmless, but now occupied a prominent space over his tightened chest.
A thin glass placed by his arm grabbed his attention and pulled him from the irreparable damage his conscious was about to make. “Oh, I haven’t ordered—“
“-a courtesy from the chef.” His waiter said before Abbot had a chance to deny it.
His gaze darted back to the glass and the air in his lungs felt dense once his eyes met yours, bright slits hiding behind your reddened cheeks.
“Your menu for tonight has been curated by our kitchen, if that’s okay with you?” He asked and removed the menu from the table.
He only nodded with a thin smile, unable to peel his eyes through the glass. “Yeah, that’s… great.”
Before his waiter could leave, Abbot asked for a special request and a few minutes later, a glass of white wine similar to his was placed by your side. Your hand stopped scribbling over the ticket for a second, then you tipped your head up softly towards him and smiled, fingers already moving with ease over the paper.
*****
Callie had come into the kitchen with short, quick steps, black flats echoing in the small fishbowl.
“Table twenty-two—“ She rushed as soon as she reached your side. “-either he’s Michelin or Parker forgot to cancel this month’s mystery shopper.”
Your eyes jumped up from the ticket for a split second, enough to catch the familiar silver you had been hoping to spot for almost a month. Your heart pressed a little too tight over your lungs, and you cleared your throat slightly hard, hoping the air could pass through without issue.
“Not Michelin…” You muttered, then continued your notes, hoping the heat of your skin would wear off.
“You sure? Cause he looks pretty important… he won’t stop looking this way.”
You bit the inside of your lip to control the smile beginning to spread. “… I’m sure.”
Callie nodded again, eyes wondering over the other tables to avoid being obvious, failing once her eyes dragged back to Abbot. She darted her gaze between your tinted cheeks and his unwavering attention for a few seconds, then with rounded eyes, she clapped a hand over her mouth and turned her back to the glass.
“No way, is that who I think it is—”
A few of the cooks turned in your direction, and the extra attention forced your spine back into a straight line over the expo.
“-Callie.” You called with a soft smile that didn’t match the stern tone of your voice. An ability you had learnt to master after the open kitchen remodel. “I swear I’ll never tell you anything again if they find out.”
She nodded excitedly, fingers pressing over her top lip to stop the blooming smile, and failing. “I’ll tell Danny to offer the pre-fix menu.” You nodded, and she matched your actions again before turning towards the exit. “Oh! and you definitely owe me a $20!”
*****
Abbot wasn’t sure what he was enjoying more.
The sashimi appetizer, drizzled with a sesame and Sauvignon vinaigrette and decorated with vibrant pickled radishes, or watching you plate it through the glass. Your lip caught in concentration and tiny tweezers as an extension of your fingers, expertly laying the decorations over the plate.
As the night progressed and bodies began occupying the tables around him, he could see your scowl had deepened, small flyaways escaping the pristine bun through the rush of your movements; but still you never broke. Even as spoonfuls of different preparations were offered to you, the kind smile persisted through the good ones and short instructions were offered with the few bad ones.
The movement around him blurred past his focused eyes, only tearing away each time a different dish replaced the last, then back on you; watching you navigate through the tight space with ease.
At one point during the rush, you leaned with open palms into the expo, fingers tapping over the stainless steel and head scanning the multiple tickets. A few flames burst controlled from the burners behind you, casting an intense glow that for Abbot, appeared to be emanating from you. The breath caught in his throat froze, as if breathing alone would disrupt the scene his brain had already framed in his head. Then you looked up to him and smiled and the world finally stopped.
The shadows from the fire danced around the sides of your face, soft bangs floating free and a heavy tint over your cheeks from the heat inside the kitchen.
His mind fed him scattering images of your heated face, loose curls sticking to your neck with sweat, pants and soft moans tumbling from kiss-reddened lips. His rough hand coming up to caress over your face and bottom lip.
He took a swig of his water and cleared his throat, finally peeling his attention for more than a few seconds, because the direction his thoughts were taking was not the most appropriate for the place.
Abbot’s eyes wondered instead around the dining room for a long time after, while he waited for his check, only then noticing the last remaining tables and how most of the staff in the kitchen had disappeared; you included.
‘Told you it wasn’t a date’ he had half a mind to text Dana while ignoring the hint of disappointment slowly creeping in.
“So how was it?” Your voice carried his way over the soft music, almost going ignored.
His head jerked to see you standing beside his table, hands cradling the chill glass of white wine he sent. Your hair comfortably sat over your shoulders, and a sweet smile pushed your blushed cheeks high up.
“Hey, it was… beautiful.” Is the only word his brain could formulate, and he stood by it. Your smile carried higher. “I mean it, chef… congratulations.”
Your nose scrunched up in playful distaste. “Please don’t call me that, it still feels weird— but thank you, Dr. Abbot-”
“Just Ja-“
“-Jack. I know.”
He huffed out a soft laugh and looked at the glass in his tight grip, then back up to your attentive gaze.
“How’s the arm doing?” He asked, lightly pointing towards the compression sleeve barely visible under the long sleeve of your shirt.
You shrugged with one shoulder. “Hasn’t fallen off yet.”
Abbot tipped his head back and analyzed you through the slits of his eyes and a knowing smile. “And aftercare?”
“It’s been a busy…month.”
“Mhm…”
“Do you at a tour of the place?” You changed the subject and looked around the mostly empty room. “The bar’s my favorite but I can show you the fishbowl if you want…”
Abbot stared back at you with a confused look, followed your pointed finger towards the glass barrier behind you and snickered.
“Yeah, sure. I got nowhere to be.” The last part wasn’t a lie. With his fucked-up schedule, he’d have to wait awake until 6 a.m. for exhaustion to hit. Even on his off day, it was a bitch to get a good night’s rest.
“Great.” You took a sip of your wine to hide the grin and turned to the exit, expecting him to follow.
He stood from the seat, unsure. “I’m just waiting for my check.”
You stopped and turned to him. “I paid for it. My treat, remember?” You said with another smile and turned back out, seconds later hearing his steps beside yours.
You walked in silence through a small tunnel on the opposite side of the exit, small enough to walk through only with your shoulder pressed against his arm, but neither of you seemed to be bothered by the proximity.
“Almost thought you were gonna to stand me up.” You commented after a sip and offered him the glass.
Abbot smiled. ‘You seemed to do that a lot.’ He thought and pulled his hand out of his pocket, taking the offer and trying to ignore the jump in his chest from the contrast of temperature between the chill glass and your warm fingers.
“Yeah… sorry about that. It’s been a busy month.”
You grinned lightly at his use of your words and nodded in synchronicity with your slow steps, turning to him for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you still made it.”
The end of the softly lit tunnel opened into the fully illuminated kitchen and to a different world from the one outside the glass.
“So why fishbowl?” He asked a few steps away, eyes distracted by the different herbs you had hanging from a drying rack to his left.
“Sometimes I feel like an aquarium exhibit.” You shrugged and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, grinning again once you heard him snigger softly.
“It’s a pretty cool idea.”
“Oh it is-” You stood beside him, hands on your hips and gaze lost between the tiny buds of chamomile. “-but sometimes the little kids like to stick their faces on the glass or lick it and I feel like one of those starfish that just wants to be left alone, y’know?”
This time, a gravely laugh bloomed from his chest, eyes squinted and brows pinched together; because he remembered how a child had done exactly that during his second course and also remembered seeing you roll your eyes, before adjusting your face into a pleasant smile and a wave.
Your gaze jumped from the herbs to his pleasant smile, down the curve of his jaw and to the exposed neck for a second longer than you’d like- than back to the rack- with a curious glint in your eyes and a sudden dry mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
He followed you around the small space for a couple minutes, you were unsure what to show or if it was even interesting to see. But Abbot still asked polite questions on what everything was; he liked to see your hands move frantically as you talked with passion. Until there was nothing else to show, then you moved back out the tunnel towards your favorite part.
“I actually got to design this one…” You commented like it didn’t matter, the soft trace of pink over your cheeks saying otherwise.
Abbot had seen it before sitting down, gin tonic in hand, while waiting for his table. He’d thought it a nice room, but what the fuck did he know, right? So when you both walked in, your grin with contained excitement, he fixed his face, raised his brows and nodded slowly; eyes scanning the room in ‘wonder’.
“Wow, really nice.”
“Right?!” You answered immediately, beaming with pride, hands pulled back behind you and swinging on the balls of your feet.
“Yeah, very pretty...” He found his stare more on you than his surroundings and with difficulty, drifted it instead to the wall behind you. He moved closer, drawn by the tapestry of family fotos that covered the height of it. “These all yours?” He asked, turning back to you.
You rounded the bar and scanned through the array of bottles on the wall, then reached up for your favorite one. The slight strip of skin caught his attention, a soft dip of your back between your thin shirt and loose work pants, a visible swallow of his Adam’s apple before turning back to the frames.
“Some of ‘em,” You were distracted serving the perfect amount of wine into two clean glasses. “-some family friends, some longtime clients, some are the staff’s families. Just anyone important, I guess.” You shrugged and Abbot smiled with his back to you. He liked how you said that.
He moved back and joined you at the bar as you rounded it and sat on the stool beside him, sliding the glass towards his hand and barely ignoring the heat his clothed knee transferred over yours.
“So what’s the craziest thing you had to do as a doctor?” You asked all of a sudden, hoping the question would distract the heat clinging over your skin. You rested your chin over your open palm, elbow on the cold counter.
His chuckle ringed in your ears. You stared with curious eyes around the tiny freckles on his skin, story taking a second place behind the importance of knowing exactly how many specks there were. You nodded in participation every few seconds, proper name, place name, backstory stuff.
‘It’s unfair he’s so pretty’
‘God, his hands are so big’
‘I wonder what they’d feel like inside- wait, what?’
“-so I basically had to manually restart the heart.” Your head straightened into place as he finished the story, smug grin hiding behind his sip of chardonnay.
“Wait… so you had someone’s heart in your hand… while it was beating…?”
“I mean, it was beating after I pumped it, but yeah.”
“And they’re alive?”
His grin grew along with a soft nod. “Last time i checked, yes.”
An amazed laugh escaped your throat, fueling the already warm fire over his cheeks.
“That is awesome, man-“ You praised. Abbot noticed how it was the first time you called him something informal and his grin curled higher for a different reason. “-you should be really proud of yourself.”
He shook his head in playful denial and snuck a peak of your gaze lost past the picture wall behind him.
“How ‘bout you?” He asked, silent until your eyes reeled back to his.
You shook your head and crossed your arms over the cold counter. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that great.”
“You’re kidding.” The slightly amused look over his face felt too heavy, your eyes instead focusing on the little curl forming on his forehead. “Not to sound like a creep but-“
“-solid start-“
“-I’m serious, what you do inside that, is pretty fuckin’ great. You look so…”
‘beautiful?’ the voice in the back of his head interrupted.
“…in control. It was honestly very impressive to watch.”
Your giggle bounced around the tall walls and landed somewhere deep in his chest, past his ribs and tucked safe in a place he was afraid he’d never find.
“I’m gonna need that in your TripAdvisor review.” You added, and his own chuckle echoed beside yours.
“Oh, definitely. ‘Cute chef + nostalgia curing food. Would eat again.’”
Your peripheral vision caught the second he noticed the words that had spilled from his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing with the strength of his nervous swallows. You bit your lip to hide the incoming grin as your head fought between teasing and letting it be.
The quick look you took up at him offered crimson cheeks and tight lips, so instead you opted for “If that’s gonna be yours, I’ll have to change the one I left for the PTMC.” and his grin appeared a little less nervous.
“What was it?” He added after a few seconds. “‘Attending physician too distractingly handsome’?” And pulled another unexpected laugh from your chest.
“Something along the lines of ‘Dr. called me a beautiful young woman, then requested a psych eval. 10/10 service.’” And the blush was back on his cheeks before you even finished the sentence.
Despite his heated face he grinned into his glass and before taking a sip, muttered “Dr. wasn’t lying…”
Your chest and cheeks grew warm from his compliment, somehow weighting more coming from him. You tucked your hair back and smiled into your drink. Then your eyes moved to the plaque past his head and the wine slid down a little thicker than it should.
Abbot followed your eyes, turning on his axis to meet your gaze on the silver frame, then back to you.
Before he could ask you answered for him. “That’s Eli’s star.”
He saw your smile go from amusement to nostalgia in a few blinks. “It’s a big deal for a lot of people in the culinary world. He got it in 2018, I think. After almost 30 years of service.”
The frame looked blurry past the gloss in your eyes. “He was able to maintain it for 8 years.” Your fingers came up to scratch your brow to give them something to do. “He was excited for the remodel, thought this would be the year we got the second one but… y’know..”
He nodded understanding, calm features as he thought of what to say. “That sounds like a lot to carry for one person…”
A soft tap from your nervous fingers vibrated on the counter, wine glass in between and you smiled with hidden sadness. “You heard Dolores, this was Eli’s baby. I can’t let it disappear with him.” You shrugged resigned.
The silence stretched for a few seconds, then a sudden heat beside your knee caught your attention. Abbot used his hand on the edge of the stool to swivel it and turn you to face him completely, knees trapped between his opened ones; gaze heavy as he ducked his head towards you, catching your stare.
“You’re really talented, kid. You should give yourself some credit.” He murmured, soft enough only you could hear, too secret of a confession for the walls to hear. “He believed in you for a reason. You should too.”
The thick sweetness of the wine clung to your dry mouth as you swallowed down, eyes wide and crystaline that reflected the dull lights back to him. The nerve endings on your skin burned alive from his touch, from his focused stare, from the sweet pressure his thighs inflicted on the outside of yours; from him. His whole gravity was pulling you closer without notice, a comet drawn to the rich brown in his eyes.
It was slow, the distance closing at crawling speed at first.
Then in a second it grew too quick, the weight of your torso tipping forward too fast, back legs of the stool lifting and your sneakers slipping from the footrest spiked your pulse. The crack of the stool hitting the ground and the world twisting on its side replaced the image of his lips with the granite floors.
Abbot reacted like a whip, arms instinctively locked around your waist, stopping your knees inches away from knocking on the floor.
“Are you alright?” He whispered, sight darting over your face and breath fanning the tips of your cheeks.
All you could do was nod, unable to trust your voice with how close his face stood. From there, you could finally count all the little freckles that made up the constellations on his face, the wine-induced gloss over his eyes and the prominent frown that seemed to be glued in place over his brows.
Your hand flexed instinctively, the hard bicep in your grasp you didn’t even remember holding on to and now didn’t want to let go of.
“We might need to roll you in bubble wrap.” He joked and despite the red of your face, your soft laugh still fell light on his skin.
You could feel his arms flex with tension against your back. The spots in your vision began to subside, a skip in your chest once you swore you caught his eyes falling on your parted lips more than once. He was losing a battle in his own head each time they neared too close to the soft pink; he’d swallow hard and drag his sight to yours, then back down again.
The heat on your cheeks felt unbearable, his blood— your blood— wanted to burst through them and back to the original owner, pulling you, dragging you, back to its home.
With a sharp intake, you closed the few inches left.
The warmth of his skin bloomed from the center of his lips, nose, and cheeks and transferred to yours. He reacted with a surprised inhale, an instant of dread invaded your veins, then his arms pulled you tighter to his chest.
His lips moved against yours with the synchronicity of a practiced dance, falling into a tempo that seemed decades older than it actually was.
You felt your shoes drag up with the pull of his strong grasp, the soft wind caressing your face as he stood fully and pulled you up with him, lips still attached. A quiet shudder vibrated through his chest and landed over your bones. He was hungry, starving, despite the full four-course meal he had devoured a few hours ago. No, this was a different kind of hunger, the type that raddled his empty bones with each empty breath every time he thought too deeply about the empty side of his bed.
Empty. That’s what he had been. Desperately being filled by continuous rotations and swat side quests that didn’t allow too much time for thinking, because if he stood to think— to breathe— he’d hear the rattle of his hollow ribs.
He could almost taste that emptiness you carried too, the way your blunt nails clung to his arm, dragging a path up his sleeve and losing themselves in the curls past his neck. Your touch heavy with the need you seemed to deny yourself under the guise of self-control.
A self-control that was beginning to slip from your grasp.
With your fingers threaded through the soft curls, you pulled him in closer, another shaky inhale that twisted like a sigh at its end.
Abbot’s body reacted too fast for his mind, one arm snaking past your waist and holding your jaw and cheek with his calloused palm.
You felt the cold contact of the counter against your back, a head-spinning contrast from the splayed palm between your shoulder blades and the hard chest you were pressed against.
A shuffle past the entrance barely caught your attention, then a voice calling you multiple times, the last one closer than the other two. The warning gave you enough time to gain strength over the lust and push Abbot back to his stool. He fell heaving and confused, watching you straighten the fallen stool and wipe his sloppy kiss a second before a body appeared through the entrance.
“-Jesus, you’re still here?”
Perfect. Fucking. Timing.
You exhaled a long breath, unconsciously taking a step away from Abbot as you turned to Parker, anxious hands trapped in the back pockets of your pants. Abbot’s gaze darted to you, then to the man coming closer and his brows quirked up slightly.
“Uh, yeah just… grabbing a drink— this is Dr. Abbot.” You introduced once he reached your side.
He extended his hand towards the doctor and offered a smile. “Dennis, great to meet you, Dr. Abbot. So you’re the one who saved our girl?”
Abbot’s eyes were glued to the way the man’s arm slung casually over your shoulders, your eyes darting around the room, then offered a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his face and shook his hand.
“Just doing my job...”
“Well, you did it very well, so thank you.” Then he turned to you with a soft grin. “This place would crash and burn without her.”
You rolled your eyes and turned to look up at him. “Something you need?”
“Oh, right- yeah-“
Abbot tried to concentrate on slowing down his heartbeat, trying to pull his gaze away from you or the man currently rubbing his hands up and down the back of your long sleeves. Like a stranger being offered a glimpse of something he would never have, and his head beat itself for allowing whatever it was that could have happened if your boyfriend hadn’t arrived.
‘Are you fucking stupid?’ he berated himself, ‘Of course she’s dating someone you old fuck,’ the itch under his skin crawled higher by the second. He felt like an old pervert for the scenarios he allowed himself to indulge in the second you kissed him, for losing the sense of composure he’d pride himself in. He hated to see the amused smile over your face as you looked up at the man, knowing that a few minutes before he knew exactly what the wine tasted like coming from your lips.
“Doc?” The man’s voice pulled his attention up from the spotless floor and reeled him back to the present.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you knew a cure for her workaholism.”
“Oh-“ Abbot played it off with a soft snigger. “I don’t think I’d be punching in doubles for fun if I did.”
You laughed softly, gaze landing on him and the tingling over his lips grew heavy again.
“Damn, maybe you two can figure it out together then-“
Before he can answer, the man turned towards you, hugged you over the shoulder and dropped a quick kiss over your head, whispering something only you could hear, then stepping back. Abbot rerouted his gaze towards the street barely visible past the window instead, wanting nothing more than to be outside of it, then hearing your melodious laugh and a soft ‘fuck off’ that felt like a punch to the rib.
“-just sayin’. It was nice to meet you, Doc. Maybe you can get her to go home before three a.m… god knows I’ve tried.” He waved Abbot goodbye and crossed the room back out.
You stood in a strange silence once the echo of Parker’s shoes disappeared, Abbot standing further than he had been all night. You suddenly missed the heat he radiated even just by standing beside you and swallowed hard, the feeling of his strong hands still lingering on your back.
“Ignore him, he’s an idiot.” You mumbled, partly because you meant it and partly because you felt the need to say anything to shift the sour expression from his face.
Abbot breathed a out a not-all-there laugh and raised his hand to scratch over his stubble. “He’s probably right… you should get home.”
The words came out harder than he would have liked, syllables scratching their way out, because the last thing he wanted to do was end what felt like the best night he’d had in a long time.
Your head jerked too quickly in his direction, surprised eyes pursing your brows higher. “Oh um-“
Your eyes darted around the room, hands back in your back pockets to disguise your nerves, then a nervous mixture between a laugh and a sigh pulled Abbot’s attention up to you. “-did… did i say something wrong?”
“What- no, no-“ His tone came out higher than he wanted it to, something about you made the edge soften a little. “ -you just need the rest, its late…”
All you did was nod, teeth tight over your tongue. Your shoes squeaked as you quickly moved around the room, picking up the half empty glasses and leaving them on the sink behind the bar.
“Sorry for kissing you-“
“It’s okay-“
“- I just- I thought you liked me. So maybe I wasn’t getting the right vibe-“
“Oh no, I do like you, a lot- but, y’know-“
Your body paused immediately half way around the bar. Like a shockwave had followed his words in your direction; so easy to say, so hard to digest.
He pushed his hands into his pockets and swung softly on the balls of his shoes. “Your boyfriend’s probably waiting for you outside…”
“Boyfriend?“ Abbot nodded, visibly pretended to be irritated.
A smile curled slowly up in slight relief, shoulders deflating down to a relaxed breath.
“Can I show you something?”
He swallowed dry, thick air in his lungs. “It’s pretty late…”
“Humor me, Jack?”
He swallowed again. Your lips wrapped around his name in a way that could get him to sign over his soul if you asked for it just as nicely. He nodded slow.
You took a few steps towards him and watched him tense up, then past him, to the picture wall and waited until his heavy steps landed by your side.
Your finger pointed to a group of photos hanging at eye level. “That’s Eli, me and my brother.” Taken a few months before New York, Christmas morning. “Parker— uh, Dennis, but I don’t really call him that.” You specified. “He’s my brother— or rather a …glorified symbiote version of one.”
His face screwed shut as if the words alone should have slapped him. “God-I’m such an asshole-“
“Yeah-“
“I’m sorry-“ His eyes scrunched in sync with the questions he wanted to ask.
“You guys don’t really look-“
You nodded. “-I know.”
You were always aware of the astronomical difference between the Parker men and yourself, at least in features. How could you not? All your family pictures carried the energy of a university’s diversity campaign. “I’m adopted. But ironically, we do have the same blood type.”
Abbot wanted to kick himself for not coming up with the conclusion earlier. ‘So stupid for someone apparently so smart’.
He groaned into a laugh and swept his palm over the stubble again. “Shit… I’m sorry-“
Your shoulders shook with your contained laugh, already shaking your head in dismissal. “- It’s okay, you’re already saved.”
His uneasy stance turned in your direction, eyes bright again, yours looking over the frames for the thousandth time.
“Yeah? How?” He asked after a few seconds of ogling.
“You…” Your finger pointed lightly over his chest, avoiding eye contact because that alone would just make you combust. “…said you like me.”
Jack groaned out a soft laugh, playful irritation, with his head tipped back. He turned to you with a longer smile, tipping a little bit forward to invade your view.
“Y’know, you said you liked me first-“
“No, i said i thought you like me-“ You raised your hands in surrender and turned back to the bar, biting your lip once he couldn’t see. “-there’s a difference Abbot.”
“You still kissed me first!” He called back, only a step behind.
“Yeah, cause I had the balls to-“
Abbot took a longer step, hand reaching out to your good arm, another on your hip to help you turn and the second you faced him; his lips dipped down to capture your in a hasten kiss. You moaned in surprise, eyes quickly pinching shut and your arms finding a home around his neck.
His hold was secure, steady and warm as he guided you back in short steps. You found your back back against the bar counter, where it had been just a few minutes prior.
‘Only a few minutes?’ It felt like the longest slow burn with the way that man kissed you, exhale fanning your cheeks because he was unable to let go of you for something as tasteless as air. You could hear his heart pounding inside your own chest, as fresh and solid as your own.
Your lips disconnected with the feeble excuse of breathing, fingers tight in the curls of his neck as he dragged his lips in peppering kisses over your cheek, jaw and the exposed collarbone above the neck of your shirt. His hands still contained a fragile level of respect, too afraid to go too quickly and scare you off, stuck between the dip of your back and the nape of your neck.
“That ballzy enough for you-“ He asked in short gasps, words between the drag of reddened wet skin, teeth tenderizing the sensitive skin under your jaw.
Your chuckle came mixed with a sigh half your brain was afraid anyone could hear. Then you remembered the keys Parker had left you to close up, the barren restaurant only pulsing alive with the echo of your troubled breathing.
“Could be ballzier-“ You added and his breath fell cold over the wet spit trail he left on the prominent bone.
Your words poked at his fragile ego, his grin curling over your pulse point, before his hands bunched up the thin fabric of your shirt over your back and they finally dragged hot on the exposed skin.
Your mouth ducked back to chase for his and trapped it with a soft moan, the stubble scratching the delicate skin and fueling the empty, hungry pit in your stomach. The shudders cascaded down your joint lips, the last trace of decency clinging to your brain and alarming you of the sudden exposure of your endeavors to the public, past the window.
Granted, the trees, bushes and the sheer curtains block most of the view, only a sliver of the inside visible for anyone who wanted to take a peek. But the thought of not stopping still slithered into your mind.
Of letting it escalate to wherever it wanted to go. Hopefully a mind numbing, beautiful ache in the center of your being that left you tired and trembling over the delightful man digging his thumbs into your hipbones.
You groaned into his mouth, tight inhale filling your lungs with the scent that had invaded your dreams from the first night, sandalwood and the base notes of antibacterial foam.
Abbot inhaled sharply, hoisting you up with little effort over the stool and stepped into your spreading legs. His movements grew softer until his trembling lips barely brushed over yours.
“This is a bad idea…” He mumbled between the soft skin, his gentle grin softening the words and making you nod in playful agreement.
“A very bad idea-“ Your eyes glistened with the wine and your own lust, dark and playful while his were unable to peel from your panting lips.
“I’m way too old for you-“ He mumbled again, trying to discourage your wondering hands as they raked over his shirt.
A soft laugh bloomed from your chest and shook your head slowly. “Maybe you’re just right…” you whispered, leaning in close to ghost your breath over his smile, pupils dilating and dragging up to his. “-I’m really into vintage stuff-“
His chuckle vibrated between your chests and the puffs of air feathered your heated skin. Without warning, his hands slipped lower down your back and fingers dug into the plush skin of your ass, sliding you up his torso again. A surprised squeal tumbled out between your lips, your eyes closing back and head swooning. Your legs wrapped around his broad hips on instinct, fingers digging into his shoulders for stability; then roaming over up and through his hair as your lips dragged along the stubble when he pulls his head a little back to guide your bodies deeper into the room.
His breathes blew tender over your sensitive neck with each nibble you took of his earlobe and once you felt the soft plush of the cushioned couch under your knees, his hands came up to the sides of your face to pull your eyes into view.
The sight of you was intoxicating enough for him, eyes blown wide, hair sticking to the dried spit over your flushed cheeks and panting lips. Abbot took a few seconds to calm his racing heart and closed his eyes, afraid that if he kept looking at you, he’d burst in his pants like some fucking kid.
He shook his head and chuckled breathily, feeling your fingers roam up his chest. “God- you’re gonna kill me, you know that?”
When he opened them again, a pleased smile pulled the corners of your reddened lips and a groan left his own as your hips shifted to sit higher over his lap, his fingers twitching over the bare skin of your waist. He knew you felt it too, the bulge growing tight in his jeans when you shifted back and forth slower this time; eyes half lidded and brows pinched together.
You leaned down with your fingers barely tracing up his chest and the sides of his neck, stopping when the tip of your nose brushed over his. Abbot’s head leaned forward to try and capture your lips, only for you to pull back slightly, teasing smile growing.
“I don’t see you complaining, old man…”
Abbot blew out a short laugh, pushed off the backrest and hovered over you, mouth mere inches from the shell of your ear. You sucked in a breath when his palms pushed your ass against his bulge, the new angle contributing a more centered pleasure and the teasing smile you once had, transferred to him.
“I’ll show you an old man, sweetheart-“
Before he even tried finishing the sentence, Abbot gripped further down onto your thighs and flipped you to the side of the couch. Your back crashed over the soft cushions, a surprised yelp pushed back down your throat by the force of his ardent mouth.
You could feel him everywhere, hands raking up under your shirt, lips hungry devouring each sound that escaped yours with the constant drag of his hips. The seam of your pants, paired with his strong rolls, rubbed a part of your sensitive cunt until your inhales turned to needy pants between his lips.
Jack already had you in a mess and you were still clothed, your thighs tried to close over his hips at the thought of how the rest of your night would go if that was just the start.
His fingers stopped right under the sensitive flesh of your breast, barely cover by your flimsy shirt. His digits splayed out over your ribs, tense and delicate over piano keys.
“D’you know how fuckin’ beautiful you are?” His murmur vibrated in the hollow room, mirroring your breathing.
His knee found its way between your legs and pulled a gasp with the sudden pressure of his strong thigh against your center. A hearty groan escaped your chest, disconnecting your trembling lips.
“There you go…” Jack whispered over your ear.
The electricity laced in his words traveled down to your core, the constant rub of his thigh powered it and sent it back to your nerve endings; exploding all at once. Your hands finally moved away from his strong arms and dropped between your bodies. His belt unlatched too slow, or maybe you were just being impatient, sliding it off the second you felt it lose.
You felt the velvet smooth skin of his cock past the coarse hair, trembling fingers wrapping over the thickness. His thigh twitched for a second tighter between your legs, a hard exhale over your neck.
“Fuck… don’t do that.” Abbot caught your mouth this time while his arm slipped up to rest on the armrest by your head, his other fingers were battling with the knot on your pants.
You reached out to help him mid grin, until it finally gave in. “Just- fuck me already.”
With the help of your heels, you pushed down his jeans low enough to free him from the denim.
He fell long, warm and heavy over your abdomen. A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air replaced your pants, air cooling down the visible arousal.
He felt your shudder in his chest and quickly promised himself to save the sound in a safe part of his brain. Then he pushed your thighs open wider, took himself and rubbed it between your folds, groaning from the heat. You felt his smile grow between kisses, until teeth latched on to your bottom lip and pulled it slightly, letting it bounce back to you.
“Yes m’am...”
A shutter broke your kiss as the blunt head of his cock brushed over your aching clit. Your back arched off the couch and pressed your chest flush against his.
“Breathe in for me, honey…” Jack groaned into your ear with an audible smile, hips moving over yours at a torturous pace, barely containing the need to sheathe himself inside you.
You did as told and inhaled unsteady, brows pinched tight in pleasure. Then with a push of his hips, the warm head invaded your insides with little resistance and your nails dug into the muscles of his shoulders. A shockwave traveled up your spine and exploded behind your eyes, the breath you had taken now uselessly tumbling out in tiny gasps.
God, it had been too long. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex- touched yourself, sure- but it sure as hell didn’t compare to the way Jack had you trembling under him.
“That’s it…” He gulped through his own restraint and pulled his hips back. “… just a little more.” Jack’s lips brushed tender over your temple, rejoicing in the little gulps of air he felt you take once his dick began parting deeper inside.
“Fuck, Jack- it’s-“ Your legs wrapped tight over his hips, groaning into his neck when your movements pulled him all the way in. “-it’s too much- too much…”
His own groans mixed with the sloppy kisses he trailed down to your jaw and over your panting lips. He distracted himself with the way your face tensed and relaxed at the same time, your teeth tight over your bottom lip and the palpitating and all consuming pressure you had around his cock.
“Shh, it’s okay- you can take it.” One of his hands rubbed soothing circles over the exposed skin of your abdomen and the side of your chest, thumb brushing gently over your nipple and a smile broke his concentration as it peaked into a visible bud under your shirt.
“Jack…” You moaned again and wiggled your hips under his heavy ones, urging him to move or else you’d combust from the tightness alone.
The sound of your voice and the grip fluttering over his length almost made him come, half a sigh and chuckle blown hidden over his sleeve.
“Don’t do that-“
“-then move- fuck-“
The words were pulled from your chest just as he pulled himself back, then slammed in instantly and swallowed your groan deep into his mouth.
Your lungs ached from the strength of his thrusts, pushing any attempt to breathe back out and turning them into tiny little mewls. They mixed with jack’s grunts and the squelching of your slick, echoing through the walls until it was all your mind could hear. His resting arm tensed the muscle from the tight grip he had on the armrest, nails digging into the cushion the same way yours dug into his back.
“You’re doing so good- good girl-“ His words made you gasp, walls tensing around his length, like feeling your heartbeat in the most personal way. His head fell into your shoulder. “Fuck…”
The pressure of your heels against his back accentuated the snaps of his hips into a quicker pace.
Your skin felt on fire. Ignited by his touch, his breathe, his cock. The expertise with which he pounded into you should be studied and patented, sold in a bottle internationally. Or maybe just kept to yourself, like a dirty little secret you’d gladly come home to every night.
Your mind swam in the blissfully sweet throb beginning to vibrate throughout your limbs, sharp moans slipping past your throat and mixing with Jack’s own. Your hands slid off his back and down where the fabric of his shirt had risen up with his ardent thrusts. His hiss interrupted his movements as your nails raked up his hard abdomen- twisted tight with suppressed want- then around to his lower back and latched like claws to the muscle.
“How are you so hot?” Your question was rhetorical, but it still made his chest swell with pride and the tip of his length dig deeper between your folds, until his balls slapped your pussy with every thrust. “Jesus fuck- im not gonna last-“ Your groan vibrated deep into his navel.
Abbot pushed himself to a kneeling position between your legs and dragged you up over his thighs, making you inhale sharp with the new angle. “It’s okay, baby- god you feel so good…” His thrusts were slower but more meaningful now. One hand tight over your hipbone to help accentuate his drive, while the other ran tenderly over your torso and between your breasts. His fingers pushed your shirt higher until it bunched up over your collarbones and left your tits on full display. “Look at you… so fuckin’ pretty-“
His words, paired with the delicious dig of his cock and the splayed out palm over your sensitive chest, had your spine curling off the bed. Your head debated between keeping your eyes focused on his fucked out expression or let it fall from its weight to the cushions.
‘How is he so good at this?’
A perfect pressure decided for you, ripping a groan from your throat, rolling your eyes back and head falling heavily. Your hands curled over his wrists tightly, guiding his movements in feeble attempts, a calloused palms rubbed the tender flesh of your nipples and peaked them instantly.
You swallowed the dryness your open mouth offered and pinched your brows tight, body rocking back and forth from the strength of his push.
He felt the familiar flutter of your walls over his sensitive tip each time he pulled back and his palm brushed quicker over your hardened nipple, watching you arch higher into his touch. Your sweet moans grew silent, only the short and quick snaps of your exhales followed his sighs and whispers.
“C’mon honey, come f’me yeah? Show me how good I make you feel.”
Your body arched on instinct, air too thin and your lungs on fire as he positioned both hands hard around your hips and plummeted you into his hard cock. He watched through half lids as his dick disappeared inside you, velvet skin glistening with your arousal. Then with momentum, his hand left your side and slithered down between your bodies, fingers pressing insistent circles over your swollen clit.
You inhaled sharp and tensed with the force of your orgasm, fingers clawing under his shirt and wherever else you could reach; afraid you’d float away from him if you didn’t. Then a shrill moan escaped your throat, your soul finding its way back to your body from the stars.
Jack tried to contain himself as much as he could without stopping, enough to watch you come undone under him; the most beautiful thing he’d witnessed. Your skin glowed golden under the dim lights, disarrayed hair wild around your blissed face and exposed neck working in overdrive while you inhaled hard.
His thrusts upped the speed again, his pulse accelerating quickly with the aftershock of your pulsating walls and your brows tensed up again, barely-there eyes flashing up to him.
“Jack- I- I can’t-“ You groaned into the cushion by your head, already feeling the tight knot beginning to form in your navel.
“-yes you can baby, one more, yeah?”
His hands roamed over your sides and towards your head. Tender palms held the sides of your cheeks and jaw as his face hovered over you, a hard contrast from the incessant slap of his strong hips on yours.
“One more for me?” He whispered over your lips, eyes darting over your blissed expression and his smile grew with your quick nods and the pressure of your heels on his back. “God, you’re amazing-“
Abbot’s lips crashed into your with the same intensity his hips did, breathy moans blowing continuously over your hot cheeks. Your legs wrapped tighter over his hips as your second orgasm inched closer to the seam of your flesh; threatening to burst out. He pulled his lips back from yours, head leaning into the dip of your shoulder, instead kissing the base of your neck.
“Fuck- I’m gonna- I have to-“ He tried to pull his hips back before he came, caged into your chest by the strong grip of your legs.
You pulled him up by the neck, kiss hard and needy over his. “Just..do it inside-“ You whispered between kisses, a teasing smile barely visible in the lowlight.
He groaned a soft ‘Fuck…’ over your lips before he thrusted faster into you, your nipples getting caught deliciously under the scratchy material of his shirt.
Your legs began to feel like jelly again, barely registering his strong hand pulling one thigh higher up on his hip, closer to your chest. The new angle caught you off guard, sparks instantly bursting in every cell of your body; fireworks inside your skin. He followed a few thrusts after, his back tense with only his heavy breathing visible.
A series of groans and lovely moans echoed in the room while you both tried to regulate your breathing manually, smiles audible in no attempt to hide them. After more than a minute, Jack pulled out softly with a hiss, already missing your warmth. He dropped carefully by your side, arm wrapping around your tired body and pulling you closer to his chest.
Your eyes remained closed, no permanent frown in sight, and a pleased curl displayed on your lips. You sighed heavily and finally looked up into his awaiting face. Your grin grew a little more.
“Hi.“
“Hey… you okay?”
You nodded softly, smile growing into a fit of giggles that had you covering your face with your palms and cowering into his chest.
“… not the reaction i was waiting for-“
“-no, no sorry-“ You calmed your laughs and looked up to him with a new red tint over your face. “-it was great- you were great. It’s just…” He blew a soft chuckle, cheeks and chest swelling with pride. “-when Parker left, he whispered ‘try not to fuck in the back’ and I don’t think I listened…”
His laugh joined yours as he rubbed over his heating face. ‘Was it that obvious?’.
He shrugged softly and let his hand fall over your relaxed torso, goosebumps rising. “Technically its not the back…”
“Ah…” You nodded and faked agreement. “Legal loophole.” Pointer tapping twice over your temple.
Jack chuckled again then rested on a pleasant smile. His eyes darted around your calm features, deciding that a view this up close was by far his favorite.
“Now what?” He asked after swallowing hard and waited for any trace of regret to fall over your face. It didn’t.
Instead, you bit into your bottom lip with a shy smile and shrugged. “I dunno… you could walk me home-“
“Oof- I dunno if I’m ready for that much commitment-“ Your hand swatted softly over his arm and his chuckle vibrated in your chest.
“And tomorrow… you can take me out to a better breakfast place. With actual good coffee.”
His gaze darted between your eyes, lips curling with every second that your words bounced in his head. You were guaranteeing a tomorrow, not a maybe, or a we’ll see. A tomorrow. Something he hadn’t wanted in a while, but that you somehow made appear desirable.
Jack nodded agreeing. “I know a better place…”
The intensity in his stare had you biting harder on your lip to avoid the splitting smile, instead following along with his nod. “Good waffles?”
“Great waffles.”
A/N2: Hope you enjoye!! Comments and reposts always welcome. Also, it won’t be a series but i do have some ideas for these two so well get a few one shots with their story as they come up, only bc i don’t wan the compromise of having to write a full fic and burn out by the middle of it (again lol)
Thanks 4 reading, love ya!
Taglist: @4ria790 , @mukeovernetflix , @mxkhxx , @emmy2811
