Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x wife!reader x toddler!daughter
Warnings: fluff, domestic, light teasing, family dynamics.
Summary: Jack Abbot ends up flat on his stomach serving as a human canvas for his three year old daughter.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
more dad! fics: dad!pitt ; dad!abbot
Jack was flat on his stomach, completely at the mercy of his daughter. He wore only a pair of grey sweatpants, leaving his broad back completely bare.
Or rather, it had to be bare. Right now, it was a masterpiece in progress.
"Hold still, Daddy," the girl whispered, her fingers clutching a paintbrush like a magic wand. She smoothed a thick stroke of bright turquoise paint right over his left shoulder blade. "You need big wings."
Jack sighed, resting his cheek against his crossed forearms. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'm holding as still as I can, bug. But that tickles."
"''tayyy stillll," she instructed, her tongue poking out in concentration.
Your man was the one who commanded trauma rooms and now he was reduced to a human canvas for a toddler.
"How’s the masterpiece coming along, my little artist?" you asked, stepping into the room and dropping to your knees beside them.
Your babygirl looked up, her cheeks smudged with skyblue paint. "Mommy! Look! Daddy’s a fairy. I need more pink... More pink, please?" She held up a completely empty messy plastic palette.
"You got it, sweetie," you said, reaching for the bottles of paint on the coffee table. You squirted a generous amount of pink onto her palette. "Hold on, bug. If we're doing a fairy, we have to do it right."
You reached over to the craft basket and pulled out a shaker jar of extra fine silver glitter.
Jack's head, slowly, turned toward you. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he leveled you with a glare that said, Seriously?
"You..." he muttered. "Tell me you're not giving her the glitter."
"It's a crucial element of her artistic vision, Jack," you replied, trying to hide your grin.
"Glitter is so hard to wash off," he warned. "I'm going to be sweating silver in the ER tomorrow, for God's sake."
"Yay, shine wing!" the toddler cheered, completely ignoring her father's concerns. She held her tiny hands out, cupping them together.
You carefully shook a small pile of shiny silver dust into her palms. "Okay, bug. Very gently, put it onto Daddy's wings."
Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight, shielding his face in his elbows. "I'm a grown man. I am a department head," he reminded the floorboards.
The toddler leaned over his back, took a deep breath, and let out a huge PFTH.
A cloud of silver glitter exploded through the air, settling beautifully over the wet, blue and pink paint... and over Jack’s hair.
Jack opened his eyes and slowly looked back over his shoulder.
His back was SHINING.
He gave you another look.
"Beautiful, an absolute vision" you choked out, biting your lower lip hard to keep from laughing out loud as your baby clapped her sticky hands together, proud of her work.
"I'm letting her have her fun now, but you're the one who has to help me scrub all this off in the shower later."
"Deal," you laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek.
-
"You're a beautiful fairy, Daddy," she whispered after paiting his back with a little more of the pink paint, her voice dropping into a sweet tone. You recognized it, it was almost nap time.
"Yeah?" he asked softly. "You think I can fly now?"
His little girl nodded as she let out a yawn. "High the sky. To stars." Her eyelids fluttered but she shook her head stubbornly.
"Are you tired, bug?" you asked her softly.
"No, more," she mumbled, blinking against the sleepiness as she reached out a sticky hand toward the jar of glitter. "Needs..." She settled her little knees on either side of his spine, straddling his lower back, and took the jar from your hands. Her movements grew slower. Her arm hovered in the air, the jar tilting dangerously, before her hand finally came down to rest heavily on Jack’s body.
Then, she didn't collapse against him. Instead, she just stayed right there, sitting completely upright on his back like a tiny sleepy statue. Her chin slowly sank down to her chest, her breathing went deep and her grip on the glitter jar loosened as she drifted straight into dreamland, perfectly balanced.
Jack didn't move. "Is she... did she just fall asleep sitting up?" he whispered.
"She's out cold," you giggled quietly, leaning closer to look at her. Her head swayed slightly with her deep breaths, but her little legs remained locked on his waist, holding her upright in her sleep. "She’s like a little bear, oh my."
"A very creative bear," Jack murmured. He carefully reached one large hand behind his back, resting his palm flat against her small waist to keep her steady and secure. "I can't stay like this forever, as comfortable as my back apparently is."
"Don't move, I have to capture this," you whispered. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo.
"Help me out, baby," Jack groaned silently.
You moved in close, gently slipping your arms under your babygirl's arms and lifting her weight off his back. She let out a soft sigh but didn't wake up, immediately tucking her head into your neck.
With his back finally free, Jack carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at his little girl, then felt the hardness of the paint drying on his back. "Please tell me we have a scrubbing brush in the bathroom."
summary: his wife brings the kids to visit him at work and to show off the new addition to the abbot family, and maybe jack is already itching for another…
wc: 1.3k
warnings: jack and reader are parents, robby flirts with reader (hardly), reader works at ptmc but no job specified, uhh thats it i think? its just fluff hehehe
summary: his wife brings the kids to visit him at work and show off the new addition to the abbot family, and maybe jacks already itching for another…
a/n: dad!jack you will always be famous. if anyone wants to see more of this little family lmk :3 (still trying to decide on names for the babies…)
Jack hears you before he sees you, his ears perking up at the familiar sound of your laugh floating through the chaos of the ED. Any other time it would make his own smile spread across his face, but now it makes his brows pinch together as he makes his way towards the sound.
You’re supposed to be at home, resting. Sure it’s been a couple months since the baby was born, but at the very least you should be as far away from work as possible.
He rounds a corner and finally catches sight of you, along with all three of his children. The baby carrier at your feet is empty, and his eyes search the small crowd of coworkers gathered around his family and find his youngest in Lena’s arms, who’s smiling down at the newborn.
As he walks up to you from behind, his arm is already reaching toward you before he’s even close enough to touch. His gentle and familiar hand on your shoulder has you turning to him with a dazzling smile, and he momentarily forgets his worries when a face that beautiful is grinning at him so lovingly.
“Hiya, handsome,” you greet, pouting your lips for a kiss. He’s quick to give you what you want, always is, and presses his lips to yours. Something you normally rarely allow him to do when you’re both in the Pitt.
“Baby, what’re you doing here?” he cuts straight to the chase. He looks and sees his son and daughter talking animatedly to a kneeling Mateo behind the counter.
“We just wanted to come say ‘hi’ to everyone and take you to breakfast,”
“It’s so early, you should be in bed,” he frets. It’s past 7:00, the scheduled end of his shift. If he had to guess he’d say it’s closer to 8:00, a few last minute traumas delaying shift change. You roll your eyes—not without fondness—and let out a huff.
“Jack, I’m fine,” you insist, a hand on his chest that he immediately covers with his own, “I wanted to get out of the house. I was going stir crazy,” you whisper the last part.
He opens his mouth to argue, to say you still don’t need to come into your place of work when you’re supposed to be relaxing, but Lena’s voice cuts him off.
“How dare you try and hide this cuteness from us, Abbot,” she’s glaring at him over his child in her arms.
It’s Jack’s turn to roll his eyes, “Kid was just in the hospital 2 months ago, figured he didn’t need to be back anytime soon,” he grumbled.
But he can’t deny the soaring in his chest as he takes in his growing family. You are so amazing, and he’s grateful everyday and tells you plenty, but seeing you here and all his kids happy and healthy with this new addition, it’s hard not to feel an overwhelming appreciation.
“Woah, it’s raining Abbots!” Robby’s voice joins the crowd. Your daughter turns and runs toward him and he squats down to scoop her into his arms before standing again.
“Uncle Robby!” She cheers. He grins at her, walking up to where you and Jack lean against the countertop with her on his hip.
“Hi sweetie,” he coos, “have you been good for your mommy?” he winks at you and you huff a dry laugh.
“Don’t start with me, Robby.” you chastise.
“Yeah, don’t.” Jack glares at him and Robby just raises his free hand in surrender.
Lena passes the baby back to you, all the surrounding nurses cooing at him as he fusses at the movement.
“Looks like Abbot’s got another mini me,” Lena smiles.
Jack’s chest swells with pride, glancing at his eldest son who’s a spitting image of a young him; auburn curls and a goofy smile. He thinks it’s too soon to tell who the baby looks more like—you or him—but he has to admit his genes are strong, a twinge of red even showing in your daughter's hair when it catches the sun.
“He is pretty handsome, isn’t he?” He says with a smug smile.
“That’s the last thing we all need; more Jack’s.” Robby teases.
“‘m making the world a better place,” he says gallantly.
He leans down and picks up the carrier, placing it on the counter for you. You give him a grateful smile, transferring your youngest smoothly and buckling him in.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” your oldest son says softly, looking up at you.
“Okay, my baby,” You coo and brush his hair back, hand coming around to cup his cheek gently, thumb caressing freckled skin, “We’ll go as soon as daddy’s finished,”
“Oh, daddy’s finished,” Robby says, passing your daughter into Jack’s arms, who goes happily.
Jack takes her without a second thought, but his brow pinches, “Robby we still gotta finish handoffs.”
The taller man just shrugs, “I think we got it covered. Go have breakfast with your family.” He claps Jack on the back once.
You gasp in exaggerated excitement, “Say ‘thank you Uncle Robby,’” you tickle your daughter’s tummy who giggles in her father’s arms.
“Thank you, Uncle Robby!” your son, daughter, and Jack chant in unison. Robby offers your son his fist, who bumps it with his own tiny one, and then grabs a tablet from the counter.
He’s already walking towards the first patient room as he calls over his shoulder to you, “Now get out of here, you’re supposed to be anywhere but here.”
Jack gives you a look that says told you so and you narrow your eyes at him.
Your son lifts his arms up to you and Jack doesn’t even give you a second to think about bending down to pick him up—doctor’ orders (him)—before he’s scooping him into his free arm. Your daughter giggles at the jostling, Jack settling a kid on either hip. They’re both still small enough to carry at once, but he knows it’s only a matter of time until his son is too big to be carried. He’ll savor it as long as he can—and start lifting heavier weights to prolong that time, which he’s sure you’ll enjoy. Two for one special, he thinks.
“Got him, baby?” Jack asks. You nod as you pick up the carrier, waving goodbye to all your coworkers who have already scattered around the busy ED back to work.
“Who’s ready for breakfast?” He looks between his two oldest as you all make your way towards the car, the kids shouting in agreement, “Me too, I’m starving. What took you guys so long to come rescue me?” he teases.
The sound of his kids' laughter ringing in his ears fills him with an indescribable warmth. As you all walk through the parking lot, the early morning sun shining bright on your glowing face that’s flashing him your stunning smile, Jack can’t help but fall deeper in love with you.
He thinks for a moment it’s a secret mercy his kids take after him and not you because there’s no way he’d ever deny them a thing if it was your eyes pouting at him. He shakes the thought away—cause who is he kidding? he can’t deny them now; it wouldn’t make a difference.
Still, he can’t help wondering if maybe the next one will be your mini me, and he can’t wait to find out.
You look back at him and squint your eyes at him in suspicion, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He asks suavely, lower lip drawn between his teeth and you straight up laugh at him. It’s a ridiculous question—he knows that—because he only tells you nearly every waking moment.
“Wipe that look off your face, Abbot. Maybe wait till this kid can lift his head on his own before you start thinking that,” you scold, but he sees right through you.
Summary: Your daughter fakes a stomachache to surprise her parents at work on Take Your Kid to Work Day, never realizing the panic it would cause.
Word count: 4.2k+
Warnings: fluff, tiny angst
A/N:
this was co-written with my friend Nora! We actually wrote some other stuff together too, but this is the first fic where she wrote the most of it. She also wants to write fanfics but is a little hesitant. Can’t wait for you to open your own blog and share your talent with tumblr Nora, this one’s you!!!💓
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
When your daughter Lucy heard about Take Your Kid to Work Day, she came home convinced it was going to be the greatest day of her entire six-year-old life.
Her class had spent nearly a week talking about it. Every morning another child had a new story, another exciting detail to add. Emma was going to help frost cupcakes at her mother's bakery. Noah couldn't stop talking about riding in his dad's garbage truck, proudly announcing to anyone who would listen that he was going to press the "real buttons." Olivia was getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the aquarium where her mom worked. Even little Ben, whose father worked at a bank, marched around the classroom with a paper tie taped around his neck, declaring he would be "approving loans all day." By Thursday afternoon Lucy had listened to enough stories that she'd begun planning her own. She was absolutely certain she would wear one of those little white doctor coats she'd seen in toy stores. She'd carry a clipboard. Maybe even a stethoscope. Everyone would finally get to see how cool her parents' jobs were.
So when you and Jack walked through the front door that evening after a twelve-hour shift, you barely had time to take your shoes off before Lucy came barreling across the living room like an excited puppy.
"Mama!"
She wrapped herself around your legs so tightly you had to catch yourself against the wall to stay upright.
"Daddy!"
Jack wasn't spared either. She launched herself at him next, nearly knocking the backpack from his shoulder.
"Whoa, easy, bug," he laughed, catching her under the arms before she could accidentally headbutt him. "Someone's excited. Where's your grandma?"
"In the kitchen. I have something important to say."
You and Jack exchanged an amused look over the top of her head. Important announcements from Lucy ranged anywhere from losing a tooth to discovering worms in the garden.
"Oh?" Jack asked, setting his bag down.
Lucy nodded so enthusiastically that her ponytail bounced. "It's Take Your Kid to Work Day next Friday."
Her grin stretched so wide it nearly split her face.
"And I get to come with you."
The silence that followed was tiny.
Barely a second.
But it was enough.
Jack's smile faltered first. You watched it happen almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth relaxing as his eyes drifted toward yours. The excitement on Lucy's face hadn't dimmed yet. She was already imagining hallways and stethoscopes and showing all her friends pictures afterward.
You felt your heart sink before either of you had even opened your mouths.
Lucy noticed immediately.
Her smile wavered.
"...What's wrong?"
You crouched until you were eye level with her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear while you searched desperately for words that wouldn't break her heart.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
Jack carefully lowered himself beside you, adjusting his balance before slipping an arm around Lucy's shoulders.
"Our jobs are a little different from everyone else's."
She frowned in confusion.
"But I can still come, right?"
Jack let out the smallest sigh.
"The emergency department isn't really a place for kids."
Her forehead wrinkled.
"Why?"
You looked at Jack for half a second before answering.
"Because the people who come to see us aren't coming for fun." You spoke gently, carefully choosing every word. "They're usually having one of the worst days of their lives. They're very, very sick..."
"Or hurt," Jack added quietly.
"They can look scary sometimes," you continued. "There can be blood. People cry. Sometimes they're frightened, sometimes they're angry, and sometimes they need every doctor and nurse in the room paying attention to them."
Jack nodded. "Our job is making sure they get help as quickly as possible. We can't always stop to explain what's happening, and there are things no six-year-old should have to see."
Lucy listened with surprising seriousness, though it was obvious she still didn't understand.
"But..." she said softly, "I'll be quiet."
Your chest tightened.
"I know you would."
"I could sit in the corner and color."
Jack smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You probably could."
"I wouldn't touch anything."
"We know, sweetheart."
"I wouldn't even talk."
Jack smiled sadly. "You'd probably be the quietest kid in the whole hospital."
For the briefest moment, hope flickered across Lucy's face before reality settled back in. She looked between the two of you, swallowing hard.
"So..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "...I can't?"
The words were so small they made your chest ache. You reached for her little hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"No, sweetie. I'm sorry."
Her eyes filled almost instantly.
"But everyone else gets to go to their parents' work."
Jack closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. Every parent hated hearing those words because sometimes there simply wasn't a fair answer. He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the back of her tiny hand.
"I know."
"I wanna see where you guys work."
"I know."
"I wanna wear one of those little doctor coats."
Despite the ache in your chest, a smile tugged at your lips. "You would look absolutely adorable."
"I could help."
Jack let out a quiet snort, his expression turning dramatically serious.
"Oh, that's exactly the part I'm worried about."
Lucy blinked. "...Really?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said with a solemn nod. "I think you'd spend the whole day walking around the department telling everyone what to do."
"I would not."
"You absolutely would."
She crossed her arms.
"No."
"No?"
She puffed out her chest, planting both hands on her hips as she deepened her voice into what she apparently believed sounded very authoritative.
"'Okay everybody, one at a time! No pushing! You have to wait your turn!'"
Jack laughed so suddenly and genuinely that it echoed through the house.
"There it is."
You couldn't help laughing too.
"Our little charge nurse."
Lucy dissolved into giggles, pleased she'd made both of you laugh.
The moment was warm.
Light.
Comfortable.
Until it wasn't.
Her smile slowly faded as she remembered why she'd started the conversation in the first place.
"...But I still don't get to come."
Jack's laughter disappeared just as quickly. He opened his arms without saying a word, and Lucy climbed into his lap as naturally as breathing. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping her little arms around him with a sigh that sounded much older than six years old.
"No," he admitted quietly, kissing the top of her head. "Not to work."
The room fell silent.
You watched Jack gently rub circles over Lucy's back while she sat curled against him, neither of them speaking. The disappointment in the room was almost tangible. You knew Jack was feeling it just as sharply as you were. Both of you spent your careers taking care of other people's children, yet this was one of those moments where your own daughter simply had to accept that your jobs came with doors she couldn't walk through.
Finally, you leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
"How about this?"
She peeked up hopefully.
"When we're both off next weekend, we'll take you to the hospital."
Jack immediately caught on.
"We'll show you the cafeteria."
"My locker."
"The ambulance bay."
"If there aren't any helicopters flying, maybe we can see the helipad from outside."
"The empty waiting room."
"My office."
Lucy sniffled, considering the offer with all the seriousness of someone negotiating an international treaty.
"...Can I push a wheelchair?"
Jack looked over at you.
You shrugged.
"If nobody's using it, sure."
She thought for another long moment before giving a tiny nod.
"...Okay."
It wasn't the answer she'd wanted.
It wasn't even close.
But she accepted it with the quiet resilience children somehow managed to find after their hearts had been disappointed. Before long she was asking what was for dinner and whether Grandma was still making pancakes the next morning, and by bedtime she seemed perfectly content again.
You smiled to yourself as you tucked her in that night, smoothing the blankets over her little shoulders.
Children had an incredible ability to move on.
Or so you thought.
Lucy had absolutely no intention of moving on.
She smiled when you tucked her into bed that night. She happily ate pancakes with Grandma the next morning. She colored pictures at the kitchen table, watched cartoons, and talked excitedly about the hospital tour you had promised for the following weekend. If anyone had asked, she seemed to have accepted your answer completely.
She hadn't.
To a six-year-old, "next weekend" felt impossibly far away. Everyone else would get to visit their parents' jobs on Friday. Everyone else would come back to school Monday with stories to tell. Emma would talk about frosting cupcakes. Noah would probably tell everyone he got to honk the garbage truck horn. Olivia would have pictures of fish. And Lucy... Lucy would have to say she stayed home because her mommy and daddy worked somewhere she wasn't allowed to go.
That simply didn't seem fair.
By Wednesday she had the beginning of a plan.
By Thursday she had improved it.
By Friday morning, she was convinced it was foolproof.
Your mother had barely finished pouring herself a cup of coffee when she heard small footsteps padding down the hallway. Lucy appeared in the kitchen doorway still wearing her pajamas, her favorite stuffed rabbit dangling from one hand while the other pressed dramatically against her stomach.
"Grandma..."
Your mother looked up immediately.
"Morning, sweetheart."
Lucy took two slow steps into the kitchen, making sure not to walk too quickly. Sick people probably didn't move very fast.
"I don't feel good."
The smile disappeared from your mother's face at once.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She set her mug down without taking a sip and crouched in front of her granddaughter, brushing a hand over Lucy's messy bed hair.
"What's wrong?"
"My tummy hurts."
"Oh no."
Lucy gave a pitiful little nod.
"It hurts a lot."
Your mother frowned with concern.
"Can you show me where?"
Lucy froze.
That...
She hadn't prepared for.
She looked down at herself, suddenly realizing stomachs had different parts. She'd heard you and Jack ask patients that question before. Daddy always wanted to know exactly where it hurt.
Panic fluttered in her chest for half a second.
"...Everywhere."
Your mother's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
"Everywhere?"
Another solemn nod.
"Mhm."
She gently rested both hands on Lucy's shoulders.
"Did you throw up?"
"No."
"Do you feel like you have to?"
Lucy pretended to think about it before giving a hesitant little shrug.
"...Maybe."
"Do you have a fever?"
"I don't know."
"Hmm..."
Your mother pressed the back of her hand against Lucy's forehead before checking again with her palm, the way mothers and grandmothers always seemed to do. Her skin felt perfectly cool.
No fever.
That was reassuring. Still, children didn't always spike a temperature right away. Maybe she'd eaten something that hadn't agreed with her. Maybe a little stomach bug was just beginning.
Lucy watched every expression that crossed her grandmother's face. She could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
She needed to make it more believable.
So she let out the tiniest little whimper she could manage. Not loud enough to sound dramatic, just enough to make it seem like the pain had returned.
Your mother's face softened immediately.
"Oh, you poor thing."
Lucy leaned instinctively into the comforting touch, a small stab of guilt twisting in her chest before she quickly pushed it aside. She wasn't trying to be naughty. She just wanted to see Mama and Daddy at work like everyone else got to.
After a long pause, she lowered her voice to an almost frightened whisper.
"I think..." She looked up through her lashes with the biggest, saddest eyes she could manage. "...I need the hospital."
Your mother smiled gently as she tucked a strand of hair behind Lucy's ear.
"Oh, honey. I don't think we're there just yet."
Lucy's heart sank.
"...But my tummy really, really hurts."
"I know it does."
"We should go."
Your mother hesitated. Normally she would've waited an hour or two, called you first, given Lucy some water, and seen whether she felt any better after breakfast before rushing to the emergency department.
But abdominal pain in children was one of those things she'd learned never to dismiss completely after watching both you and Jack work in emergency medicine for years. You had both told stories about children who seemed perfectly fine until they suddenly weren't. Appendicitis. Intussusception. Things she'd never heard of before you became a doctor and Jack became a nurse.
She didn't want to overreact.
She also didn't want to ignore something important.
Her eyes lingered on Lucy's face. The little girl looked uncomfortable enough to be believable, even if she wasn't crying. Some children tolerated pain differently.
Your mother sighed softly as she stood.
"Alright."
Lucy's eyes widened before she could stop herself.
Really?
It worked?
Excitement rushed through her so suddenly she almost smiled.
Almost.
She bit the inside of her cheek just in time, quickly lowering her head and pressing a hand dramatically back against her stomach.
"I'll get dressed," your mother said. "Then we'll have one of Mommy's friends take a quick look at you, okay?"
Lucy nodded with all the seriousness she could muster.
"...Okay."
As your mother disappeared upstairs to change, Lucy remained standing in the middle of the kitchen, hugging her stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.
Her plan had worked.
In just a little while, she'd finally get to see where her mom and dad spent all day.
She had no idea that before the morning was over, two people who had faced mass casualty incidents, violent trauma, and countless life-or-death emergencies would see her name on the emergency department tracking board and experience a kind of fear neither of them had ever learned to prepare for.
The emergency department had been in controlled chaos since seven that morning.
Every room was occupied. Hallway beds had filled before breakfast. Monitors chimed from every direction, phones rang almost constantly, stretchers rolled past one another with practiced precision, and conversations overlapped until they became little more than background noise. Jack had barely stopped moving since clocking in. He had just finished helping stabilize an elderly patient in respiratory distress and was updating the tracking board when a new name appeared among the incoming pediatric triage patients.
His own last name.
At first his brain didn't process it.
He frowned automatically, assuming it was another family with the same surname. It wasn't uncommon.
Then his eyes shifted to the details beneath it.
Accompanied by: Lucy.
The world seemed to narrow into a single point.
His stomach dropped so violently it almost hurt.
No.
No, no, no.
His mind filled the blanks long before reason had a chance to intervene.
Car accident on the way to school.
She'd fallen from the playground.
An allergic reaction.
A seizure.
Appendicitis.
A ruptured appendix.
Internal bleeding.
She'd stopped breathing.
His chest tightened so sharply that, for one terrifying second, it felt impossible to draw in air.
He was already moving before he'd consciously made the decision.
"Jack?"
Dana looked up from her workstation as he hurried past.
"You okay?"
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
His prosthetic clicked faster against the floor as he rounded the nurses' station, weaving through stretchers and staff with an urgency that made several people instinctively step aside. Every extra second felt unbearable. His heartbeat pounded so loudly in his ears that he barely registered the voices around him.
Across the department, you were finishing charting after discharging a patient when your own eyes drifted toward the tracking board.
Your last name.
Pediatric triage.
Lucy.
Everything inside you went cold.
"No..."
The word escaped before you realized you'd spoken aloud.
Your pen slipped from your fingers onto the counter.
You didn't bother picking it up.
Someone behind you asked a question you never heard. You abandoned your chart mid-sentence and hurried out of the trauma bay, every rational thought dissolving beneath one singular, suffocating fear.
Not my baby.
Please not my baby.
You'd both spent years watching parents run into emergency departments wearing that exact expression.
The look that silently begged someone to tell them their child was okay.
Now you understood it from the inside.
Jack reached pediatric triage first.
He rounded the corner so quickly he nearly lost his footing, instinctively compensating before his prosthetic could catch awkwardly beneath him.
Then he stopped.
Lucy sat on one of the triage beds beside your mother, happily swinging her legs back and forth as she hugged her stuffed rabbit. She looked perfectly content, completely fascinated by everything happening around her.
The moment she saw him, her entire face lit up.
"Hi, Daddy!"
Jack didn't answer immediately.
He couldn't.
His breathing still hadn't caught up with him. His pulse hammered painfully against his ribs as his eyes swept over her with clinical precision born from years in emergency medicine.
Skin color okay.
Breathing normal.
Alert.
Talking.
No blood.
No bruising.
No obvious deformities.
No signs of respiratory distress.
No altered mental status.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Relief crashed into him so suddenly his knees threatened to buckle.
He had to grip the back of a nearby chair to steady himself.
"Jack?"
Your mother stood immediately, guilt already written across her face.
"I am so, so sorry. I should’ve called."
You arrived only seconds later, breathing almost as hard as Jack.
"Lucy!"
Your daughter beamed.
"Hi, Mama!"
You dropped to your knees in front of her without hesitation, your hands automatically moving through the familiar sequence every parent in emergency medicine knew by instinct. Forehead. Neck. Arms. Wrists. Face.
"What happened?"
Your mother looked apologetic.
"She was perfectly fine this morning. She'd been playing, and then all of a sudden she started holding her stomach and said she was in terrible pain. I didn't know if I should wait or..."
"You absolutely did the right thing," you assured her automatically, even as your attention remained fixed entirely on Lucy.
"Honey?"
Lucy nodded solemnly.
"It hurt."
"Where does it hurt, bug?" Jack asked.
She pointed vaguely toward the center of her stomach.
"...Here."
"How bad?"
She held up eight fingers.
"On a scale of ten..."
"...Eight."
"When did it start?"
"This morning."
"Did you throw up?"
"No."
"Feel sick?"
She hesitated.
"...Maybe."
Jack exchanged the briefest glance with you.
Neither of you relaxed.
Because children lied about vegetables.
They didn't usually lie about pain.
And even when they weren't lying, they were notoriously bad at describing it. Jack had treated smiling children with ruptured appendixes, kids who laughed while walking on fractured ankles, toddlers quietly coloring despite severe dehydration. Looking well meant almost nothing in pediatrics.
You rested a reassuring hand against Lucy's abdomen.
"I'm just going to press a little, okay?"
She nodded.
You gently palpated one quadrant.
"Does this hurt?"
"No."
You moved to another.
"How about here?"
"No."
Lower right.
"No."
Lower left.
"No."
Jack watched every tiny flicker of her expression. Or rather, the complete lack of one. She wasn't tensing beneath your touch. She wasn't guarding her stomach or curling inward instinctively. If anything, she seemed far more interested in everything happening around her than in the examination itself.
Her eyes wandered constantly around the department, following nurses rushing past, patients being wheeled down the hallway, monitors chiming, stretchers rolling by, the ambulance doors sliding open every few minutes. She wasn't frightened by any of it. She looked fascinated.
You noticed it too.
Before either of you could ask another question, Lucy turned back toward Jack, wearing the brightest smile she'd had all morning.
"So..." She tilted her head innocently. "...Can I see where Daddy works now?"
Silence settled over the four of you.
Jack closed his eyes.
Very.
Very slowly.
Your mother frowned, looking between the three of you.
"...Lucy?"
Your daughter's grin only widened.
"It worked."
Jack opened one eye.
"...What worked?"
"My tummy."
Neither you nor Jack said a word.
"It wasn't really hurting." She paused, as though she'd only just realized you weren't reacting the way she'd expected. "I just wanted to come."
For several long seconds, nobody moved.
Jack slowly lowered himself onto the chair beside her, more because his legs suddenly felt weak than because he'd intended to sit.
Because his prosthetic leg suddenly felt unsteady beneath him.
He rubbed both hands over his face, forcing out a long, shaky breath before looking back at his daughter.
"You..." His voice was rougher than he intended. "...You faked it?"
Lucy nodded proudly, completely oblivious to the emotional hurricane she'd just unleashed.
"That was the only way Grandma would bring me."
Your mother's mouth fell open.
"Oh my goodness..."
Lucy looked between the two of you with complete sincerity.
"I wanted to see where you work."
Jack let out another slow breath that sounded dangerously close to becoming a laugh. Not because anything about this was funny, but because relief had nowhere else to go.
"You scared ten years off my life."
Her smile faltered.
"...I did?"
Jack swallowed, the image of her name on the tracking board still burned into his mind.
"When I saw your name pop up..." His voice caught unexpectedly, forcing him to pause. He looked away for a moment before gathering himself enough to continue. "I thought something terrible had happened."
You nodded quietly beside him.
"I thought my little girl was hurt."
Lucy's face crumpled almost instantly. The excitement disappeared, replaced by confusion and guilt.
"I..." Her shoulders curled inward. "...I didn't know."
Of course she hadn't.
She was six years old. In her mind, she'd come up with the smartest plan imaginable. Pretend to have a stomachache. Go to the hospital. Surprise Mommy and Daddy. She'd never stopped to think about what it would feel like for two emergency clinicians to suddenly see their own child's name appear on the tracking board.
She looked down at her sneakers, twisting one toe against the floor.
"I'm sorry."
Jack watched her quietly for a long moment. Every ounce of frustration he'd felt dissolved beneath the sight of her trying so hard not to cry. Without another word, he opened his arms.
Lucy climbed into them immediately.
He wrapped her tightly against his chest, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against her hair.
"I'm not mad."
She looked up uncertainly.
"...You're not?"
He shook his head.
"I'm relieved."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"So unbelievably relieved."
He held her for another moment before leaning back just enough to meet her eyes.
"But you cannot ever pretend to be sick like this again."
She nodded immediately.
"Okay."
"I need a real promise."
"I promise."
You moved closer until your shoulder rested against Jack's, wrapping an arm around both of them. Almost instinctively, Lucy reached for your hand with her free one.
"I'm sorry, Mama."
You squeezed her little fingers.
"I know."
"I just wanted everyone at school to know my mommy and daddy have cool jobs."
Your heart ached.
"We know, sweetheart."
"They all got to go."
You met Jack's eyes for a brief second. Sometimes the hardest part of parenting wasn't saying no. It was understanding exactly why your child wanted something so badly and still knowing the answer couldn't change.
Jack kissed the top of Lucy's head.
Jack was quiet for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"Since you're already here..." He glanced at you, silently asking the question before either of you spoke.
You smiled back.
"I think our patient has been thoroughly examined."
Jack nodded solemnly.
"I agree."
He looked back at Lucy.
"So I'm officially discharging you."
Her eyes widened.
"You are?"
"Mhm." He reached over and gently tapped the tip of her nose. "No tummy ache. Cleared to go home with Grandma."
She giggled.
"But..." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Before you go home, I think we can spare five minutes."
Lucy's mouth fell open.
"Really?"
"We can show you the nurses' station." He pointed toward the center of the department. "My locker. Maybe the ambulance bay if there isn't anything coming in."
"And the cafeteria," you added with a smile.
Jack nodded.
"But that's it."
"No treatment rooms."
"No sick patients," you said gently.
"And you stay with one of us the entire time."
Lucy threw her arms around his neck so quickly he almost laughed.
"I promise!"
"I know you do." He hugged her back before pulling away just enough to look at her seriously. "But that doesn't change one thing."
"What?"
"If you ever feel left out again, you tell Mommy or me."
She nodded.
"You don't have to scare us to spend time with us."
The smile slipped from her face.
"...Okay."
"I mean it, bug."
"I know."
She leaned forward to hug him again, then reached for you too, nearly pulling the three of you together on the waiting room chair.
Jack caught your eye over the top of Lucy's head.
"I think she inherited our problem-solving skills."
You laughed.
"No."
"Our stubbornness."
Lucy looked up immediately.
"I heard that."
"Oh, we know," Jack said with a grin. "Trust me, we know exactly who you got it from."
"I did not fake being stubborn."
"You absolutely did."
That earned another burst of laughter, loud enough that even your mother laughed through the tears she'd been quietly wiping away.
As Lucy happily slid off Jack's lap, already asking a hundred questions about ambulances and whether nurses really kept candy in the break room, the knot in his chest finally began to loosen. The fear hadn't disappeared entirely. He wasn't sure it ever would. Seeing her name on that tracking board had unlocked a terror he hoped never to feel again.
But as he watched her bounce happily between you, clutching one of your hands and one of his as though the last twenty minutes had never happened, he found himself smiling despite everything.
He would take fake stomachaches, dramatic plans, and six-year-old schemes over seeing his daughter in one of those treatment rooms for real every single day.
new dad jack abbot who is just absolutely obsessed with newborn scrunches…like to the point he will fight/race reader to be the first one in front of the bassinet the second your baby moves or makes any noise.
those scrunches are HIS.
he’ll pick the baby up sooo gently, cooing at them as they make all the baby noises, and the second that baby scrunches up to stretch jack is a puddle on the floor. don’t even bother mopping it up cause it’s just gonna keep happening every time that baby wakes up.
the baby’s little legs curl up into their bottom, arms stiff and stretched out, back curved a little and the cheeks…good lord those chubby cheeks get all squished against their arms and their eyebrows raise. their tiny face gets red as their fists flail a little bit.
jack’s got the biggest smile on his face, so soft and warm for his mini me.
“biggggg stretchhhh”, jack will coo, eyebrows dancing in his hairline as he gasps softly when the baby finishes stretching and looks right at him.
“there, much better”, jack says softly, pulling his baby close and letting them rest against his shoulder; “yeah i know…feels so nice to stretch out, huh?”
reader just watches the entire thing unfold with nothing but love in their eyes. half ready to pounce on jack and not wanting to interrupt the moment. reader has no idea how many videos of that exact moment they have on their phone by now. at least a dozen.
when the baby reaches that stage in between three and four weeks old where they technically aren’t a newborn anymore, jack is distraught. his baby is growing up and he doesn’t like it. even more so when he goes to pick the baby up and they just…don’t scrunch.
instead their arms go all the way above their head, stretching out the same way jack would…like a full grown person. their tiny body is still a little arched, but not the same way it used to be. not in full scrunch, legs still dangling below their little body.
jack freezes, almost immediately. he just…stares…loses it. blinks once, then twice before a soft breath comes from his mouth, brows already furrowing before he can stop them.
“um excuse me bean, where the heck is your scrunch?”
his voice almost wavers. bean stares back at him, blinks once before chewing on their fist, unsure why jack’s still got them held out into the air. clearly the scrunch isn’t coming.
bean grunts in protest.
jack brings them close, cradling their tiny head and letting his lips brush against the soft downy hair on top of their head.
“can’t believe you lost your scrunch…when did you get so big?”, he whispers into their skin.
he inhales the new baby scent, which is thankfully—still fully in tact.
jack tells reader dramatically about the events when they emerge from the shower. hands waving in the air. he’s fully dissatisfied and appalled that bean dared to loose their scrunch. not when it was his favorite thing.
“it’s ok honey, now bean has the cute baby stretch”, reader assures him.
jack let’s put a noise that almost sounds like a grunt, but sighs anyways; “It is kinda cute…”
“see? it’s ok”, reader tells him, caressing his hand with their thumb; “we’ve got lots of videos too, jack.”
jack nods, eyes flicking over to look at bean who’s chilling in their bouncer chair. he points at them, eyes narrowed with a quiet humor that’s decorated with a slight seriousness; “you”, he says; “need to stop growing so fast.”
so yeah, he’s a little distraught and has a mini existential crisis…and maybe he watches those videos of every scrunch bean every did later that night in bed while reader is fast asleep next to him. maybe his eyes are a little glossy, sue him. that’s his baby.
a/n - ok i get rlly into births i actually think they're rlly fucking interesting, like just yesterday i learned about paravaginal births and??? why is that an option??? but dw it doesn't happen here. i had to include the miss congeniality easter egg, bc i started this yesterday (apr 25th) benjamin and shawn are my sister wives. samira doesn’t leave the pitt, she just leaves the day shift, obv. i had a lot of fun with this, and i hope you do too!!! time to find out if it's a ronan or isadora! phoebe or phoebo! <3
♡♡♡
Your nursery colors were green and yellow. It was calming, and neutral but not gray. There were little dragonflies embroidered into the curtains, and flowers on the rug, and vintage children's book art hanging on the walls. Jack kept his nephew’s first ever hockey stick leaning against the bookshelf, barely two feet long, determined to get your little baby out on the ice as soon as possible.
You liked it in there. It was nice. You could sit in the cushy armchair with your feet up, breeze blowing in through the open window, making the dragonflies fly. It was a right side better than suffocating on your back in a sweltering bed under the weight of your baby. And sometimes, on hard days, you looked over into the empty crib and pictured a little red haired infant, fast asleep under the galaxy mobile.
Jack often found you asleep in there. Sometimes he found you awake, and you would say, “Oh, hun, now that you’re here, mind folding these hand me downs we got from Dana?”
But not anymore. The nursery was done, painted, dried, decorated, and stocked with anything you could need. The cot in your room was set up, along with a cart of midnight postpartum essentials, of which you got a list from every childbearing woman in your life. You had pounds of frozen meals ready in the freezer. You had decided on names. You had deep cleaned and decluttered the entire apartment from head to toe. You were absolutely ready.
In every way but the physical, of course. Every appointment you had, it was firm, undilated cervix, sitting high, and perfectly healthy. You were incredibly grateful the baby was healthy, but by week forty, you would have been almost as grateful to hear any note of progress.
But nada. Zip. No action.
You tried to stay positive, to remind yourself how lucky you were to be making it to term. Hadn’t you seen dozens of preemies in your line of work, who needed extensive, invasive care or worse, who didn't make it at all?
No matter how guilty it made you feel, though, you couldn’t quite help the annoyance that crept into your brain more and more with each day you spent still pregnant. You were truly becoming the stereotype of the angry pregnant lady, waddling around with a scowl, complaining about sweat, and not being able to see your toes.
“I hate this,” you said, two days after your due date. “The baby is healthy, the baby is ready, I’m certainly ready, so what’s the fucking hold up?”
You had had your forty week check up just that past Wednesday, where Jill was too happy to report that your cervix was wide, thick, and hard as a rock.
“I’m sorry,” said Dana, looking up from her charts. “Sometimes the baby just comes on their own damn schedule. You better get used to that.”
You grunted, pulling at your scrubs. Dana’s lips quirked in sympathy.
“Why don’t you head home?” she said. “There’s only an hour left in the shift, and you can start your maternity leave at forty weeks, can’t you? I’m sure Gloria couldn’t fault you for that if she got a look at you.”
“No way,” you said, slamming your computer keys harshly. “Jack’s taking twelve months off when the baby comes, only three of those are paid, and I need to save.”
“You’re fine,” Dana dismissed. “Jack has spent the last decade and a half making doctor money, taking overtime, and never taking a day off. He buys the same t-shirts and jeans every few years, toiletries, food, and that’s pretty much it. I know that guy’s got savings.”
“Yeah, I know, but I still —” you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp.
Your muscles were tightening, cramping more than you’d ever felt before. Dana took off her glasses.
“Woah,” you said, as the pain spread from the front to your back. “That’s new.”
“Braxton hicks?” asked Dana cautiously.
You shook your head.
“I don’t think so,” you breathed, rubbing your belly. “No, this is — worse.”
Dana rolled her chair right up next to yours, swiveling you to be knee to knee. She had an excited glint in her eye.
“Do you think, possibly, it could be…?”
You tried not to smile too wide. The pain was worse than it had ever been, but you could still talk through it.
“I don’t know, maybe,” you said. “D’you think?”
“Why not?” she said. “Start timing them!”
You pulled out your phone, fingers shaking slightly in excitement.
“Sixty-two seconds,” you said when it was done. “It lasted sixty-two seconds.”
“Good start,” said Dana, patting your knee. “Keep track of ’em, and who knows. The betting board might be cleared by this time tomorrow.”
It took everything in you not to squeal from pure excitement. You rested your phone open next to your computer, trying to focus back on work. Your eyes frequently flicked over to it, checking the time. It was five, ten, fifteen minutes before anything else happened. The same clenching pain, spreading from front to back, rolled over you.
“Another minute,” you said happily to Dana when that too had passed. “Sixty-four seconds, that time.”
“Want anything, kid?” she asked. “Heating pads, tylenol?”
“No thanks,” you said. “They’re not too bad yet.”
By the third contraction, Jack was walking through the door.
“Jack!” you said loudly, attempting to jump up, getting halfway through the motion, and sitting back down. “Jackie, a contraction!”
His face changed instantly from warm fondness, to worried shock. He picked up his pace, hurrying around the partition to kneel in front of you. His eyes were wide.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “How long?”
“One minute, with fifteen in between,” you said, showing him your phone. “What do we do? Should I go home now?”
He took your phone, thinking.
“Why don’t I give you a ride,” he said finally. “You can shower and eat, in case this is the real thing. How’s that sound?”
You thought it sounded good, starving and grimy as you were, so you gave everyone your excited goodbyes, loaded into his car, and went home. It took some convincing to get Jack to leave you. You had to remind him that he was scheduled to work in about fifteen minutes, and Robby wouldn’t be happy if he wasn’t there for shift change, before he kissed you goodbye.
You almost relished in the ache as you started your shower, positioning your phone right outside the door. You were so desperate for this pregnancy to end, you could work through the pain. As you were rinsing conditioner from your hair, another contraction started to hit. But as you reached through the glass door to document it, you saw that the timer read twenty minutes and counting.
Twenty minutes. The contractions had gone from fifteen minutes apart, to twenty. That wasn’t that unusual, was it? Things could be irregular in the beginning, but it would even out, right? But as you heated up some pasta for dinner, the increments between episodes became longer and longer. When a whole hour had passed without one, you knew it had been a false start.
Your heart was sinking as you texted Jack.
Contractions slowed down :( I don’t think it’s happening
His bubble popped up almost immediately.
I’m sorry honey. Want me to bring you waffles from Rosie’s in the morning?
You smiled.
You know me too well
You went to bed that night disappointed, but determined. You were starting to second guess your assessment that the cramps weren’t braxton hicks, but whatever they were, it was a first. It meant progression.
The next day at work you did some home remedy research. Castor oil was a no go, for obvious reasons, but there were still plenty of non medicinal measures that couldn’t hurt to try.
“Spicy foods, curb walking, uphill sprints,” Javadi read over your shoulder as you showed the list to Robby. “Dates, raspberry leaf tea…”
“You don’t really think any of these work, do you?” said Robby skeptically.
You glared at him.
“Until you have to start wearing adult diapers because you pee a little every time you bend down, kindly keep your opinions to yourself, Michael,” you said, and Javadi tried to stifle her snort. “That just cost you lunch. I require one extra hot jalfrezi with chicken.”
He didn’t dare argue, just snapped his mouth shut and went to make the order with his tail between his legs.
After your eye watering meal, one bite of which had Robby red as a tomato and wheezing into a straight mug of creamer, you decided to take a trip outside. You took Victoria with you, partly because the possibility of falling down and not being able to get back up was high, but also because the terror in her eyes every time you wobbled was slightly amusing.
You walked along the curb in the ambulance bay for as long as you could justify being away from the hub. By the end of it, you were panting, exhausted, and didn’t feel any closer to labor. You huffed and puffed your way slowly back inside, Javadi trailing awkwardly behind you.
“Any luck?” asked Dana.
You could only shake your sweaty head.
“Not yet,” you said, texting Jack, “but you never know.”
Please get dates!!!
A few hours later, when he was awake, he responded.
The fruit?
You rolled your eyes.
Obviously the fruit
He sent you back a thumbs up.
No one was convinced at the efficacy of your little tricks, but they all wished you luck as you waddled out to Jack’s truck. You could tell, as you updated him, that Jack had doubts of his own, but he was smart enough to stay silent while you munched on your dates.
“They’ll work,” you said. “They have to.”
Sure enough, later that night as you bounced on your yoga ball, you felt a now familiar sensation at the base of your belly.
“Fucking finally!” you said to no one in particular, perhaps Romeo where he lay snoozing on the couch.
You called Jack, and he answered on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“Tell Robby he’s an idiot,” you said smugly. “Guess what I’m having right now?”
“A contraction?” he said. “Really?”
“Really,” you said. “It’s only the first one, but I just wanted to let you know to keep your phone close.”
But it seemed you sounded the alarms a bit too soon. The same contractions, now two minutes long, still fifteen apart, kept you up until one in the morning. They were helped by some nasty heartburn, no doubt from your ambitious spice level at lunch, but soon enough, they began to subside.
You groaned as you texted Jack.
Don’t say anything to Robby, the contractions have stopped >:(
He’s still an idiot though
At the very least, you had the day off. The last thing anyone needed was you, forty weeks pregnant, and running on five hours of sleep. By the time you woke up, Jack was beside you, snuffling snores.
The third night you felt contractions coming on, you were hardly as excited. You had Jack time them, but, as you expected, they fizzled out around midnight.
Each night, around seven or eight, contractions would start. Then, like clockwork, between the hours of twelve and one, they stopped. You wanted to pop a pill and go to bed, not bothered tracking something that was surely temporary, but Jack insisted.
“You never know when it could be the real deal!”
But it wasn’t the real deal, night after night. You were a zombie at work, snappy and grouchy, so much so that by the time you were forty weeks and five days, you were kicked out.
“You’re gonna regret this, Dana,” you growled as Jack pulled you towards the parking lot. “You’re gonna rue the day!”
With your newfound freedom away from the hospital, you kept up with your activities. Though, not the spicy food. That you’d learned your lesson from. Your days were filled with curb walking, dates, and teas. At least two hours a day you sat on your ball and pumped. You had even had sex every night, though it was hardly sexy. You couldn’t really move, so Jack had to prop up your hips with two pillows. It was helped, however, by Jack himself. You’d never seen the man so insatiable as when you were pregnant.
By the time you made it to your forty-one week appointment, you were itching for progress. You kept your fingers crossed tightly, hoping against hope as Jill performed her exam.
“You’re about one centimeter dilated,” said Jill apologetically.
You let out a helpless cry. Jack rubbed your shoulders.
“It’s still an improvement,” he reminded you.
“And you’ve softened a bit,” said Jill. “Most importantly, you’ve still got a good amount of amniotic fluid, so baby’s okay. I would like to do an NST, just because you’re past due. I’d also just like to offer you induction. It is typically recommended at this point—”
“No thank you,” you said firmly. “I’ve only heard horror stories, uterine ruptures, infection, hemorrhage —”
“I know you know how unlikely those things are, so I won’t tell you,” said Jill gently. “I figured you would say that, but how do you feel about a membrane sweep?”
“Great, amazing, do it now,” you said, and she chuckled.
The membrane sweep was certainly uncomfortable, but not exactly painful. Once it was over, you were strapped in for an NST and Jill tried to reassure you.
“It’ll probably be any day now,” she said. “Hopefully things will progress quickly from here, but if they don’t there are things you can do to help.”
“Curb walking? Spicy foods? Sex? Dates? Yeah, we’ve done them all,” you sighed. “Just tell me — how do I tell the difference between prodromal contractions and real contractions?”
Jill looked regretful.
“Oftentimes, you can’t,” she said. “You just have to keep monitoring, and wait for them to get closer together.”
All in all, it was a blue sort of afternoon. Even a big cookie from your favorite bakery wasn’t able to cheer you up. Upon returning home, you draped yourself over Jack on the couch. He practiced his braiding on you while you watched Law & Order, snacking on dates. You were beginning to become sick of them.
As planned, contractions started rolling in around nine. At first, they were average, easily breathed through. Then, they started to pick up. Not in duration, but in severity. Jack pulled your new braids away from your face as you hunched in on yourself, tense and unfortunately moist.
“Honey?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Bad,” you gasped. “Worse.”
“Okay,” he said, stroking your forehead. “Do you want to sit on your ball?”
You managed a nod, so he helped transfer you over to the blue ball. You started moaning, rolling your hips in great circles while he clutched your hands from his seat on the coffee table. As the clock struck half past one, he dared to speak.
“You know, if it’s this bad,” he said quietly, “maybe —”
“Don’t say it,” you snarled. “Don’t even think it.”
You were past the point of foolish hope. Without at five hours of clear, worsening contractions that reached five minutes apart, you weren’t even considering it a possibility. It wasn’t feasible to prepare every single time.
You were proven right, at nearly three in the morning, when the contractions once again quieted down. You could tell that Jack was struggling. The pain in his eyes was hard to ignore as he watched you curl in on yourself in agony. Hopeless, was the word, and it wasn’t helped by his being a doctor.
“Seven days,” he whispered into your hair as you drifted in and out of sleep. “Can’t be more than seven days.”
It definitely felt like more. You were becoming nocturnal, kept awake by contractions that never led anywhere, and sleeping it off well into the afternoon. It was like being back on night shift, but instead of patients, you got debilitating cramps and sweating.
It appeared that the membrane sweep really hadn’t helped, at the next appointment only three days later. You were still only one measly centimeter dilated. You cried all the way home out of pure exhaustion.
Jack did everything he could to try and help. He drew warm baths, gave foot rubs, always had the kettle ready for a hot water belt. But even food was becoming uninteresting to you, with nausea and fatigue plaguing you most of your waking hours.
You tried to stay positive when you started losing the mucus plug, even more so when it appeared bloody. You called Jack into the bathroom and shoved your dirty underwear in his face.
“The bloody show?” you said.
“I think so,” he replied.
It was exciting. You tried to let it be exciting. But some part of you must have known deep down that it wasn’t the time quite yet, and the days crept on. Jack finally decided to start his sabbatical when parting in the evening coincided with your cramps. He couldn’t stand to leave you folded over the kitchen table, swaying side to side in a futile attempt to work through the pain.
He had you drinking protein shakes and walking in circles around the apartment, just to get the bare minimum out of the way so you could spend the rest of the time sleeping. You were more like a zombie than a person at that point. You would wake, but you were never alert. You went through the motions, the routines, but without Jack, you wouldn’t have been any more active than a garden snail.
“Jill, you gotta give me something,” you said at your next appointment, just one day before the forty-two week mark.
You looked horrible. Bags under your bloodshot eyes, unwashed hair, barely able to stay upright for exhaustion. Jack wasn’t great either, mostly from pure stress at watching you being put through the wringer. He looked at Jill imploringly. She sighed sympathetically.
“Unfortunately, I believe the only thing I can offer at this point is Pitocin,” she said. “In fact, I think I need to highly recommend it.”
You leaned back against Jack. He swept your hair back and rubbed your shoulders.
“Do you think you’d be open to that now?” he said in a hushed tone.
You huffed weakly.
“I don’t know,” you said. “I — I don’t like it, but I can’t spend another day like this, I really can’t.”
Jack buried his nose in the crown of your head, trying not to lose it.
“How about this,” said Jill delicately. “We make an appointment for tomorrow evening, give you guys the whole day, and if nothing happens, you come in. You’re almost three centimeters, you have made progress this past week, which means the drip probably won’t do anything drastic. We need to speed you along. How does that sound?”
You weren’t ecstatic, but you agreed. You knew it would be dangerous for both you and the baby to stay stagnant for much longer. Still, it wasn’t exactly what you imagined as you ate your last meal in the afternoon the next day. You expected to wake excitedly in the night, and rush to the hospital. That period of “I think this is it” extending into “this is really happening right now.” All elements of surprise were zapped out of your trip to the ward. You weren’t excited, more morose, as you stared gloomily out of the window.
Jack was clearly excited, under the surface. He gripped your leg tightly on the drive, other hand tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. He tried not to show it, though, for you.
“I know this isn’t what you had in mind,” he said as he pulled you out of the car. “But just remember, we’re meeting our baby soon. Right? And then all the pain can be over.”
You took a heavy breath. He loaded up with all the bags. That was at least one good thing about having a planned birth; you could prepare.
“I don’t know,” you said in a glum voice, taking glum steps towards the glum side entrance. “I know he has to come out at some point, but it doesn’t feel real. I think I’ve stopped allowing myself to accept it, after all the false starts.”
You had gone right back to referring to the baby as “he” the past few weeks. Jack didn’t want to talk too much about it, just settled in resolutely to being a boy dad. You had stopped believing in another possibility as well, but it didn’t really bum you out the way it did him.
Jack pressed a kiss to your plump cheek.
“I know,” he said. “But try to believe it, baby. He’ll be in your arms before you know it.”
You grumbled while he let you through the familiar door.
“He better come out fat.”
Jack smiled.
“Yeah? How come?”
“Because he’s gotten so much extra time!” you exclaimed. “He better have been using that to get me some chunky baby rolls.”
Jack just chuckled as the two of you made your slow, painful way through the entrance to the ER. You figured you’d be better to cut through to the staff elevator rather than go in through the civilian entrance up on the OB floor, and you might as well say a quick hello-goodbye to the sorry plebs stuck working.
Indeed, you received quite the strong reaction from the hub as you toddled up.
“Look who it is!” said Dana, immediately encircling you in her arms. “Mom and Dad!”
You snorted as the others gathered round, fussing.
“Look how big you are!
“Can you believe today’s the day?”
“Think pink! Baby Princess is almost here!”
Princess squished your belly carefully, looking intense. After a while, she nodded smugly.
“That’s at least an eight-pounder,” she said happily. “Just like I predicted!”
“Well I should think so,” you said. “Two extra weeks of stealing my nutrients should do that.”
Robby stepped forward, looking exhausted, but he offered you a polite cheek kiss anyways.
“Looking stunning as always, Nurse Abbot,” he said, with a hint of jest in his tone. “The glow is overpowering!”
You fixed him with an unamused stare, and at least a week’s worth of sleep gunk in the corners of your eyes.
“Do you want something from me, Robinavitch?”
“Of course not,” he chided.
“What’s your bet?” you asked suspiciously. “Are you counting on me holding out for another three days or something?”
“Oh, no, no one expected you to go this long,” he said. “However, if the baby comes out with your hair, nine pounds, and a boy, I’ll be very happy.”
You rolled your eyes, and Jack started ushering you away from the mob.
“Goodbye Robby, I hope you lose!” you called behind you.
“Good luck!” said Dana.
“You can do it!” said Mel.
“Bring us a baby girl!” said Princess.
You could only wave halfheartedly as the elevator doors closed.
It was easy to be playfully annoyed at Robby downstairs, or sassy in the car, but the second you stepped into your reserved room, your delivery room, the panic took over. There was a large bed, and a convertible chair for Jack to sleep on, just like you pictured. But they wasted no time in hooking you up to a CEFM, and within the hour, a nurse had shoved a suppository up your vagina. You didn’t feel much like laughing at anything.
“And that’s —”
“Dinoprostone,” the nurse answered your boyfriend, while you tried to adjust. “0.3 milligrams. We’ll start the Pitocin in an hour or two.”
You let out a sigh as she left, pulling at your gown. You weren’t happy. Sitting there, sans underwear, on a Chux pad, waiting with anticipation for what would probably be the most painful, agonizing experience of your life, you felt the walls closing in a bit.
You glanced at the clock above the door. It was almost eight o’clock. Robby and Dana were probably just leaving, and Shen and Samira would be taking over. You soured at the thought that they’d probably be cozy in bed again before you had your baby. Hell, the way things had been going so far, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were barely five centimeters by that point.
“You wanna watch a movie, honey?” Jack asked quietly, watching your sullen face.
You rolled your head to the side so you could see his, though it looked much sweeter. You stroked a hand over his scruff.
“Yeah,” you said forlornly. “Miss Congeniality?”
He nodded diligently and extracted his laptop from one of the bags, setting it up in record time. To both of your surprise, you promptly opened your arms for him to join you on the bed. He did so, moving carefully so as to not upset your gown, or your monitor, or you. You weren’t at the point where you were cursing him or hated the sight of his face. In fact, you quite liked him at that moment. Better to take advantage of it before things progressed and he got the luteal phase side of you.
“I love you,” you said.
He sounded a little taken aback in his reply.
“I love you too, baby.”
You fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt.
“I just needed to remind us both, before I start hating you,” you explained.
“Of course,” he said.
You sat in the quiet for a while, half watching the movie you knew like the back of your hand. Within a few minutes, Jack’s gentle touch and steady breaths coaxed your eyes closed. On the brink of sleep, only one thing nowadays could really bring you back.
“Contraction,” you mumbled, as Gracie threw Matthews into a headlock.
“Do you want to move?” he asked.
“No,” you breathed, letting the now familiar discomfort wash over you. “Just stay.”
“Okay,” he said, pecking your forehead. “I’m right here. You know who else is here for you?”
“Who?”
“Benjamin Bratt,” he said. “Benjamin won’t let you down.”
You hummed, a hint of a smile on your lips as you forced your eyes open. Benjamin Bratt was your lifelong celebrity crush, and your friends had wasted no time pointing out some similarities between him and the father of your child when you’d revealed it.
“Of course he won’t,” you said, stroking a finger down his face on the screen.
As the usual contractions passed, you couldn’t help but feel a bit foolishly disappointed. Some small illogical part of you hoped that the prostaglandins would be enough of a push for your body to ramp it up on its own; but the pains were no different than they had been all week.
At a quarter to ten, Jill came in and checked you.
“Just about three centimeters dilated,” she said, to your agitation, “but about ninety percent effaced, so, progress.”
You huffed. Even your TV husband couldn’t distract you from the fact that you weren’t getting anywhere, no matter the positive spin Jill tried to pull. She didn’t seem to want to mention that you were also “just about three centimeters” the last time she saw you, over twenty-four hours previous.
“So now you start the drip?” you asked, and Jack squeezed your hand.
“Yes, now we start,” she said, while a nurse prepared the bag to hang. “Just a low dose, and then if nothing happens, we can gradually increase it. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” you said, through gritted teeth.
She provided you with a peanut ball to put between your legs and then you were left in wait. Jack rubbed your back and instructed your deep breathing, while you tried to focus on the screen and not the pain.
To your brief respite, the pitocin didn’t intensify the contractions the way you expected them to. After an hour of absolutely zero action, Jill upped the dosage. Still, while they grew closer together, they felt no different. You could breathe through them quite well, and even talk if you felt determined. Maybe you had a high threshold, maybe you were desensitized after all the sleepless nights, maybe it was a bit of both, but what ended up nagging you the most was the hunger.
“Jackie,” you whispered between contractions, around midnight.
“What, baby?” he whispered back, though you were alone in the dark room.
“Can you go get me a soft pretzel?”
He stopped sponging your sweaty forehead, eyes narrowed in amusement.
“A soft pretzel?”
You nodded innocently.
“With plenty yellow mustard, please.”
He rang the washcloth out over the basin, looking half humorous, half distressed.
“Honey, I don’t think —”
“And a hotdog!” you interjected, eyes going wide. “Just get one of every condiment, actually. And I’m picturing a soft serve in a hat. Chocolate vanilla swirl. Okay?”
He wiped his damp hands off on a clean towel and cradled your face.
“Sweetheart, I will get you all of that and more,” he said earnestly, “just as soon as this baby’s outta you.”
“Oh, okay,” you sniffed. “So you don’t love me anymore. I get it.”
It was such a ridiculous notion, he couldn’t help laughing. You tried to smile back, but your face was suddenly crumpled in discomfort as another contraction hit you. Jack checked his watch, then the monitor.
“Five minutes,” he said desperately. “They’re getting closer together, honey. We’re moving.”
“They’re fine,” you hissed. “They’re only, like, double the pain of a bad period. It’s no big deal.”
Jack sent you a look you couldn’t see.
“Your periods get this bad?” he asked in horror. “Even half this bad? How do you get anything done?”
You couldn’t answer, just shook your head, as if to say what are you gonna do?
There wasn’t much, but damn it if Jack wasn’t going to try.
“You wanna try some massages?” he asked. “Some from lamaze class?”
You shook your head again.
“Okay… how about the birthing comb Perlah gave you?”
You didn’t immediately dismiss it, so he quickly dug into the bag and pulled it out. You opened your hand and he lined the teeth up with the crease of your palm. You squeezed hard. He watched you closely.
You took some deep breaths, massaging the bamboo tines into your tissue. Jack allowed himself some breaths as well, seeing the line between your brows soften a bit. He’d never dare complain after the weeks you’d had, but his brain felt a bit like a wrung out sponge. He could deal with sleep deprivation, he almost thrived on sleep deprivation, but seeing you, in agony, so exhausted you could barely eat a full meal? That was wearing down on him.
“Wait, what time is it?” you said suddenly. “Is it past midnight?”
Jack glanced at his wrist again.
“Closer to one,” he said, “why?”
Your lips turned down a bit.
“Nothing,” you sighed. “It’s just that… Ronan is a Scorpio.”
Jack glanced at his phone with befuddlement.
“Is that bad?” he asked. “Wait, aren’t I a Scorpio?”
“Yes,” you said. “Which is fine, it’s great, but now you’re both Scorpios. Scorpio men.”
He waited for you to explain, but you didn’t, so he just gave you a confused apology kiss.
When the contractions got to be three minutes apart, Jill came in to have a look.
“How are we holding up?” she asked, snapping on gloves, while Jack helped you place your feet in the stirrups. “Contractions manageable?”
“Oh, yeah, they’re great,” you deadpanned. “I’m loving how they’re basically back to back now. Real fun.”
“Well,” she said, looking sorry, “you’re still only almost five centimeters, and we’d like you to be closer to seven.”
You guffawed.
“Of course I am,” you croaked, rubbing your tired eyes. “Not even five, almost five, for fuck’s sake.”
“We are moving, hun, just slowly,” she said, patting your knee. “We’re going to break the waters now, though, and things should pick up after that.”
You nodded flatly, unconvinced, at that point, that anything could possibly speed things up. It was mildly uncomfortable as Jill stuck the amnihook up to your sore cervix, but a second later, you felt a small pop and a sudden gush of fluid. You craned your head up to peer over your bump.
“Is that it?” you asked. “It’s broken?”
“That was it,” said Jill, handing the soiled hook and pads off to a nurse. “Now, you’ll probably continue to leak as the baby moves, so we’ll keep this Chux here under you, and don’t be surprised if things pick up quick. Most times mothers start pushing within hours of the amniotomy.”
“Bet I’m an exception to the rule,” you muttered darkly.
However, despite your pessimistic attitude, things did pick up. Quickly, and painfully. In comparison, the early labor felt like child’s play once you had experienced the stabbing sensation that trapped you now. You watched the sunrise from the window, bent at a ninety degree angle with your arms on the sill. You were no longer cracking jokes; you let out rhythmic moans, while Jack squeezed your hips together.
“Let it out,” he said quietly. “You’re doing so good. So, so good, baby.”
You still clutched the comb in your hands, but any effect it had had earlier was now lost. You were slick with sweat and shaking. As the contraction leveled out, you took great, heaving breaths.
“I think I’m gonna puke,” you breathed, and Jack jumped up.
He guided you back to the bed so your weak knees could collapse, and held a bag up to your mouth. You spit into it, that familiar metallic taste flooding your tongue as you prepared. It was mostly bile that came up as you retched, with no food left in your rumbling stomach. When you were done, you sat back on your bum and braced your arms in front of you.
“I’m never… doing… this again,” you panted.
“Okay, love,” said Jack, adjusting your hair where he had tied it back the first time you’d vomited. “You never have to.”
Did he want more kids? Yes. But more importantly, he wanted you happy and safe. If you said you were done, you were done. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he would be up to seeing you in this much pain again. He kissed your warm cheek.
“I need the epidural,” you said. “Can we get that?”
Jack had never moved faster in his life. Once Jill was free, and you were back in position, she checked you.
“Seven centimeters,” she said. “Very good.”
“Yes,” you gasped. “Thank you universe.”
Jack all but crushed your hand between his.
“She was wondering about the epidural —”
“Certainly,” said Jill. “We can absolutely get anesthesiology in here, but I should remind you, it could very possibly slow down your progression. Is that a trade you’d be willing to make?”
They both looked at you. You felt about ready to cry. You were finally getting somewhere, would an epidural be setting you up for another twelve hours?
But in the end, you knew, you wouldn’t be able to get through birth without a couple hours of good sleep under your belt. So, you agreed to see the doctor.
It was definitely the right choice, you thought, once the drugs kicked in. Feeling the numbness spread through you was like going to sleep after a double, or sinking into a hot bath in winter time. The relief was palpable.
“Oh my god,” you moaned. “Oh my god, I had forgotten what it was like to not have contractions.”
Jack was relieved too, watching you munch on ice chips, eyes closed.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, stroking your forehead between your eyes. “You need rest.”
“So do you,” you said. “Hey — have you taken your leg off at all since we’ve been here?”
He thought. He had been far too preoccupied with you to notice the dull ache radiating up his right knee. He shrugged, but you were already back to your sass, however sluggishly.
“It’s almost been twenty-four hours, Jack Abbot,” you reprimanded. “Take it off and get in bed.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said lovingly.
He had to admit, it was a relief in its own right, removing the leg and the socks. He hadn’t even realized how much it had been bothering him, but you had always been on top of those things, the things he let fall to the back burner. Just like how he reminded you to eat on stressful days, or prepared hot water bottles when you were on your period. You looked out for each other.
Pulling his other shoe off, he carefully crawled into bed next to you, engulfing you in his arms. You weren’t sure how long you slept. All you knew was that upon waking, Jill was between your legs for a check.
As she covered you back up with the blanket, she could barely contain her smile.
“Ten centimeters. Are you ready to have a baby?”
♡♡♡
You’d thought, somehow, foolishly, that the pushing would be easy compared to the weeks of torture. Especially with the epidural keeping you almost completely numb, how could it be worse?
But now you were approaching your third hour of pushing, and they still couldn’t even see the baby’s head. The pain was barely an afterthought, but every upper muscle in your body was tense and tight from repeated use, and you were running out of energy.
You had Jack holding up one leg, a nurse holding the other, and a third person out of sight was wiping your forehead. You had had to ask, or scream at, someone to remove the ticking clock from above the door. Your eyes kept drifting towards it, and your heart filled with more and more despair as the minutes slid by.
“C’mon, honey, one more push,” Jack was chanting next to you, holding your thigh flush against your chest. “One more, you can do it!”
You fell back against him with a harsh cry as the contraction subsided. Perspiration was dripping down your flushed face, and you were panting like you’d just finished a sprint.
“I can’t,” you gasped. “I can’t do this any more. It’s not working.”
“The baby is moving,” said Jill from the other side of your bump. “They’re taking their time, but you’re doing really, really well, okay? Keep going, we should be seeing a head soon.”
“Did you hear that?” said Jack soothingly. “It’ll be over soon. You’re so close.”
You felt so close to slipping into sleep, and yet possibly less comfortable than you ever had been before. You felt your eyes beginning to sting. Maybe it was a good sign; throughout everything, you still hadn’t shed a tear. Could the cracks in your exterior mean this was almost at an end? Or were you really ready to give up?
“Here comes the next contraction,” said Jill. “Ready?”
“Big breath,” said Nurse Marta. “Chin to chest — good…”
You bared down with all your might, and the pressure was building.
“Hard, hard hard hard!” said Jill. “Good job, mom! I can just barely glimpse the head.”
Jack pressed a flurry of kisses to your knee, and if your eyes were open you would have seen his already beginning to tear.
“Oh my god,” you muttered as that contraction too passed.
“Can I see?” he asked cautiously. “The head, can I try to see?”
“We lost sight when she relaxed,” said Jill, eyes glued to the monitor. “But on the next contraction, we should begin to crown.”
“Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay, one more, and we find out who wins, Robby or Princess, right?”
“Better be Princess,” you grumbled.
You ran a limp hand over Jack’s curls.
“You’ll catch him, right?” you said. “When he comes out?”
“Yeah, baby, of course, I’ll be right there,” he said. “I promise. I mean, I love Jill, but —”
You almost laughed, or got as close to it as you possibly could with how winded you were. Jill spoke up, smirking slightly herself.
“Okay, about twenty seconds to the next contraction,” she said. “And I need you to really push hard, okay? Hard as you can.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Alright,” she chuckled, “ready? Go.”
You pushed, and pushed, and pushed. All the blood rushed to your head, and your grip in Jack’s hair only tightened, accidentally bumping his chin against your knee, but he didn’t say anything. It was kind of funny — you were usually in a very different place when you did that.
“You’re so good, you’re so so good, honey,” Jack muttered quickly, unable to keep himself from peering over to watch. “Good, good, you’re so strong, you” — his breath stuttered — “I see the head! Oh, it’s red, the hair — Ronan —”
You let out a strangled sort of sound, half laugh, half cry.
“We’re crowning, I’m gonna need you to stop pushing,” said Jill. “Okay, stop pushing, and breathe, alright? Pant, deep and fast —”
You began to feel a bit lightheaded as you followed her instructions.
“Okay, now push again — good — and relax.”
You groaned, arms shaking and jumping all over the place. Hesitantly, you removed a hand from Jack’s hair.
“Can I feel?”
“Of course,” said Jill. She took your trembling hand and guided it down. “Feel the hair?”
That was it. That was the little push those tears needed to begin leaking from your eyes. It was the most bizarre feeling, not being able to sense touch against your own legs, but knowing that the head you felt was part of you this second. And the next, it would be separate. A whole little human.
“There’s a lot, huh?” said Jack in a wavery voice.
“Jack, if you want to catch, now’s the time,” said Jill, holding out a packet of sterile gloves. “You ready?”
He snapped them on in record time, though was reluctant to leave your immediate side.
“I’m right here,” he said, both for you and for him. “I’m still here next to you.”
“I know,” you said, taking up the hand of the nurse that replaced him.
“Push, mama, push,” Jill chanted from over Jack’s shoulder, watching carefully as he cradled the emerging head.
“You’re doing amazing!” said Jack, fully crying now. “Keep going!”
You did. By the end of the minute, the head was all the way out.
“I see him, I see him!” said Jack frantically. “He’s coming! One more push, just one!”
“Tell me what’s happening, okay?” you asked. “I wanna know.”
“Okay, honey.”
Your nurses pushed you up. It was time for the final contraction. Or, what would hopefully be the final contraction.
“Push!”
You put all your remaining strength behind that last push, tears now joined in the sweat running down your cheeks.
“Here come the shoulders,” said Jack. “Good job! Okay, great job, honey, they’re coming — okay, one, and — c’mon, Ronan, you can do it — c’mon — okay, yes! Yes, yes, yes, so good, okay, and the little arms, and the belly, and —”
There was a sudden release of pressure, and almost immediately, a sharp, strong cry rent the air. You were sobbing in earnest now, but still Jack held onto your baby while they wailed. You couldn’t see them, but you could see his face, transfixed, unmoving. You didn’t like the look. Worry began to creep in.
“What?” you asked wetly. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
“It’s” — Jack’s breath caught in his throat — “it’s a girl! It’s a baby girl.”
Your anxiety cleared, and you sighed in relief, a full body shudder as he gingerly lifted the little baby, your daughter, to your chest. Your eyes were as wide as his were, staring in awe at the little creature on your bosom.
“Hi,” you whispered, while Jill rubbed her vigorously with a cloth. “Hi, baby. You’re here.”
Jack, now gloveless, and hysterical, wrapped his arms around the both of you. Her whole tiny head was covered in sticky but unmistakable dark red hair. And it seemed Santos was right — she did have her dad’s nose. His everything, really.
“Isadora,” Jack said reverently through his tears. “You’re perfect.”
“You got your girl,” you said to Jack, eyes not parting from your Izzy for one second.
“Everyone’s gonna freak,” he said, stroking her head.
It wasn’t until later, with the cord clamped and cut, the placenta delivered, and the postpartum room moved into, you realized.
“Wait,” you said, watching Isadora curl sleepily into her father’s bare chest. “I just remembered something.”
“Way to go, Izzy,” he said. “First hour on earth, and you’re already beating Uncle Robby’s ass, huh? Atta girl. Just wait til you play him at hockey. He sucks.”
Your eyes, which had never fully dried, were beginning to tear up again. You knew it was to be expected with your hormones out of whack, but he was just holding her, for christ’s sake.
“C’mere,” you said lazily, beckoning him towards your bed. “You wanna call him up? Gloat in his face? I kinda do.”
“Nah,” said Jack calmly, settling in at your side. “I think for now it should just be me and my girls.”
You were sent home the next day, with an appointment for Izzy in the books and relatively minimal soreness, considering. Izzy was quickly proving herself to be a good eater, and a good sleeper.
“There we go, honey,” Jack cooed at her, setting her down in your arms. “All fed, all burped, all changed.”
He perched on the arm of your nursing chair. For once, it was exactly as you pictured. The breeze through the open window making the dragonflies fly, Jack by your side, and a little red haired baby resting in the green and yellow nursery.
little blurb: imagining jack abbot with a toddler that has discovered a new game called “decorate daddy’s prosthetic while he’s asleep” (despite you, her mother’s, best efforts) but she is always so proud of herself, so he just leaves it.
“lookin’ extra sparkly today,” robby remarked, nodding to jack’s prosthetic, which he was currently adjusting.
abbot quirked a brow before he looked down, sighing in realization. “yeah, i fell asleep on the couch yesterday and ellie gave me a makeover.”
the makeover in question consisted of scattered stickers of varying themes that covered his prosthetic. from this angle, robby could see a few golden stars, some pink hearts, and a turtle.
“you know, they’re just stickers,” he pointed out. “you could take them off.”
jack’s face twisted in disgust. “what? i’m keeping them forever, fuck off.”
6.4k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: Dad!Jack; mentions of pregnancy; mention that reader had a rough first pregnancy with a few scary moments but no specifics or real discussion; the quickest second of angst (for me lol) where Jack thinks about losing you during/after a pregnancy; discussion of baby Abbot #2; breeding kink; Jack joking he could remove your IUD; foreplay; allusion to PIV sex; sass; soft moments; silliness; fluff; happy fluffy domestic dad!Jack; no use of y/n.
Summary: Watching each other with your daughter, who inherited Jack's sass, makes you and Jack have the same thought: you guys could have another.
AN: This feels like something so different for me, especially as of late (Quiet Part 6 notwithstanding). I don't know how I feel about it. But what's new there lol. This is just kind of silly. The idea came to me when I was telling a friend a story about an interaction my mom and I had when I was 4-ish that is the most Mich story and behavior. I've always been like this. It involves the word 'peep' and, you know, Peeps, it's the day after Easter. I think I'm so funny. 😂 Anyway more on the story at the end so as not to ruin anything lol. I don't really know where the rest came from, honestly. I didn't question it too hard and kind of just let it flow so hopefully it's okay. Like I said, it's definitely not my usual angsty angst or super emotional stuff, so I hope I've still got that fluff in me lol. Thank you so much for reading and for all of your support! I hope it's enjoyable and that you do enjoy! ♥️
"Daddy!"
Your daughter's voice rings into your bedroom through the monitor on Jack's nightstand. "Mommy!"
You feel Jack take a deep breath, your face buried against his chest as you lay curled into each other on your sides. "This is a dream, right?" he mumbles. "I'm hearing her call for us in a dream and not for the twentieth time tonight."
You nuzzle your face into him and then pull back. "No such luck, Baby," you hum sleepily. It feels like you guys literally got back to bed and comfortable and fell asleep for about a minute before your daughter calling for you again woke you back up.
Jack groans quietly as you slide out of his arms and start to sit up. He's not mad at her, doesn't resent having to go and check on her, he was just so comfy with you and he's tired. "I knew about the four month sleep regression, I didn't realize there was a four year one. I'm tired and want to sleep." It's almost a little dramatically whined and you laugh to yourself.
Your daughter turned four a week ago. Neither of you can believe it. It's so cliché but it feels like just yesterday you were getting home from the hospital with her and curling up in bed with Jack holding you and you holding her in that postpartum newborn haze.
She's been up and down almost all night which is strange for her. Normally she falls asleep and she's out until the morning. But after about two hours tonight she woke up and called for you both, asked for a drink of water. You and Jack happily took her to the kitchen to get one and tucked her back in bed.
Thirty minutes later as you and Jack were just settling in bed she called out for you both again. This time she needed to go to the bathroom. Twenty or so minutes after that she asked if you could read her one more book to help her fall asleep. Thirty-ish minutes after that Greenie, the stuffed green TY bear she didn't go anywhere without, fell under the bed where she couldn't reach. Fifteen minutes later she was cold and asked if you could turn the fan off. Forty minutes later she was hot and asked for it back on.
And now twenty minutes later here you are again.
"You love it," you smirk tiredly at him. "You love that she calls for Daddy first and that she knows Daddy will always come."
"I do, but I'd also be thrilled not to be experiencing it for the fortieth time tonight. Or this morning, whenever it is." He really does love it. He'll always love it, and Jack will always go to her if she calls for him. It's not even that it's testing his patience, or yours for that matter, though yours is closer to being tested than his. It's that he's tired and it's like she knows right when he slips asleep, when both of you do.
Jack grabs the shirt he keeps on the bench at the foot of your bed and throws it on while you slip on and tie the knee length cotton robe you keep next to it over your satiny sleep camisole and shorts. "You know she knows Mommy will always come too."
"I know," you murmur. You stop at the threshold of your bedroom door and turn to push your lips out for a kiss just because you can. Jack gives you the kiss you seek with a smile. He knows how fucking lucky he is that he has you, gets to call you his wife and love you and kiss you and parent your perfect little girl that you made him with you.
"At least we got some us time before she started waking up," you sigh happily.
"Thank fucking God," Jack huffs, shaking his head. "If this had started when she first went to bed and I'd been trying to have sex with you for the last five hours and kept getting interrupted I'd be in fucking tears." You can't help but laugh quietly to yourself at how serious he sounds when he says it in his hushed tone. "She even went to bed late so she could get some of her excess energy out. How is she not exhausted and totally out? She doesn't even sound that sleepy!"
You shrug even though Jack can't see it. But he can hear it in your voice. "Sometimes the girl can just go and go and go."
At this point you both can tell and know that it's become a little bit of a game for her just by the way she's acting and talking with you. It's not at all that she's scared and trying to get you guys to stay without having to say she's scared. You've seen that before. And it's not that she's just having a bad night or that she's not feeling well but can't quite put the words to the feeling. You've seen both of those before too. She's just not tired right now for whatever reason and is getting bored.
Like he always does he pauses outside of her and knocks on it once with the back of one of his index finger’s knuckles and then opens the door. He turns her dimmer light on low, enough to see well but not hurt anyone's eyes, and then crutches into her room toward her bed as you follow.
"What's going on now Energizer Bunny?" he asks her with a good natured teasing in his voice as he calls her a new nickname that makes her beam at him, a hint of knowing sheepishness in her smile.
She's already sitting up in her bed and shrugs deeply. You smile to yourself. You've seen her father give you that same shrug a million times before. "Wanna change jammies."
Jack fights to keep his smile from growing too wide and encouraging her. "You wanna change your jammies?"
"Yeah," she nods at him, like this is a perfectly normal request to make in the middle of the night.
Jack nods at her slowly. "Wh-" Halfway through asking why he changes his mind. It doesn't even matter. His little girl wants to change jammies so jammies will be changed. Plus he doesn't want to end up getting her started on a ten minute story if he can avoid it, as much as he loves indulging her imagination and hearing the ideas she comes up with.
"You wanna pick them out, Honey?" you ask her from where you've moved to kneel by her probably overly well bolted to the wall dresser. Jack wasn't taking any chances.
"Yeah!" she giggles, scrambling out of bed and running over to you. She purses her lips and brings one of her index fingers to them as she hums while surveying her options.
You and Jack share a look as he sits on the floor by her bed, both of you chuckling silently to yourselves. "What do you think Honey? You've got Cars, or princesses, or skateboards, or puppies, or bows." You name a bunch of what's in there but you already know which pair she's going to pick.
"Those ones!" She pulls her index finger from her lips and points to the pair you knew she would.
You click your tongue as you pull them out. "How did I know?" She smiles widely at you and giggles and you set the pajamas on your lap to grab her and bring her into your arms, holding her close while attacking her face with kisses and making her almost shriek with laughter.
Jack swears he can feel his heart warm in his chest and his body start to melt into the floor at the two of you. He can't believe this is real and his life. He'd more or less given up on it before he met you, figured he would be too old for anyone to ever want to do this with him by the time a relationship was ready for kids, not that he would even be that old.
And then he met you at a bar a group of them went out to after work and for reasons he's pretty sure he'll never understand you think he's the most attractive individual to walk the earth physically and in his personality and character. You both fell in love quickly, dated a year and got engaged, married a year later. Then you took some time to just be married and together for a few years before you started trying for a baby. And now here you are, your four year old little girl giggling up a storm in your arms.
You guys could have another.
"Alright," you release her, "go see Daddy and he'll help you change."
As she gets out of her lap and Jack sees the pajamas she's picked out you watch the satisfied smirk pull onto his face and roll your eyes at him affectionately when he looks at you. While your daughter scampers over to Jack you throw the pajamas at him with a playful force, his hands coming up to grab them as he overdramatically ducks and laughs.
Jack turns his attention to your daughter who stands close to him between his outstretched and open legs. "Arms up!" Your daughter listens and Jack pulls her current shirt off and then helps her get her new one on. "Okay pants." She places her hands on his shoulders automatically, already knowing the routine.
Something about it reminds you of the way he knelt between your legs and you rested your hands on his shoulders as you sat on the toilet in the bathroom and he helped you into clean postpartum underwear, effectively a diaper of your own, changed your padcicle for you and helped you stand up and get them pulled up and comfy just because he could and wanted to take care of you. You hadn't even necessarily needed help with it but Jack did it anyway, at the hospital and once you were home. Just like he showered you for weeks simply so you didn't have to expend the energy and move as much and could focus on relaxing in the water and healing. Just like he took care of you your entire pregnancy.
You get misty eyed thinking about it and have to blink rapidly for a second to clear your eyes. By the time you do and focus back in on the present she's all changed and thanking Jack.
"You're welcome, Peanut." He leans in and gives her cheek a big kiss. "You know these are my favorite pajamas." Jack smiles and raises his eyebrows at her to get her to giggle.
"I know Daddy, s'why I pick 'em! They my favite too!" She leans into him and wraps her small arms around his neck in a hug, Jack's legs closing so she can bend her knees and rest them and her shins on his thighs. The pair she chose has a typical scrub green background and a print of different medical instruments and such all over. "They my Daddy jammies!"
Jack could burst into fucking tears, he's pretty sure he'd promise her anything she asked for right now, a pony, a car when she turns 16, a trip to wherever the hell she wants. "Yeah? They're your daddy jammies?" She nods eagerly and Jack chuckles. "Can you tell me what's on them?"
"Mhm! I like this game!" She leans back on her calves a little and pulls her shirt out so she can see it and Jack can point to things better. Her and Jack have been playing this game since you found and bought the pair, a fun surprise that had excited them both. You make a mental note to try and find them again and order another pair in a size up. She's starting to grow out of them and will be devastated when they no longer fit.
"Okay," Jack points. "What's that?"
"Stefoscope!"
"Yeah, that's a stethoscope, very good." He points to something else. "How about that?"
"'Mometer!"
"Yep, that's a thermometer, good job." Jack points again. "And this one?"
"Singe!"
"Correct again, it's a syringe." He pretends to think about which one to point to, letting her excitement build before he points to another. "What about this? It's a tough one."
She looks at it for a few seconds and starts to hum, moves into trying to sound out the word as she remembers more of it, clearly knows what it is and is just struggling with the word. "Sf, sfffff, sfigmomomonmeter."
"Good job! It's a sphygmomanometer." Jack is absolutely beaming at her with pride and you have to laugh to yourself at your daughter being able to identify a fucking sphygmomanometer at four years old. "You are the smartest little peanut!"
"You're so smart Honey, I'm proud of you, that's a big word!" You crawl over so that you're at the opposite end of her bed from Jack and lean against it a little as you watch them.
"Thanks Mommy!"
He tickles her side a little to hear her laugh as she looks at him like he personally hung the moon and stars just for her. "Okay, last one. What's this?"
She sings out each letter. "EKG stip!"
"Mhm, it's an EKG strip," he nods at her encouragingly. "And what does it show?"
"Sinus taf!"
"That's right, sinus tach! You did such a good job! I'm so proud of you!" Jack catches her easily when she lets go of her shirt and launches herself back into his arms with hers around his neck again in a tight hug in the span of a second. "You're so smart, Peanut! You'll be taking over for Uncle Robby and running the whole Pitt before we know it!"
"Thank you Daddy!"
"You're welcome, Peanut."
You laugh softly and shake your head, an amused smile on your face as you watch the two of them.
Jack catches your eye, the biggest self-satisfied smile on his face. "What?"
You shake your head at him and hold your hands up. "I didn't say a word."
His smile easily slips into a smirk. "I can hear you thinking them."
"I can hear you bragging about how she can read an EKG strip before she can read a book," you smirk back at him.
Jack rolls his eyes playfully but you're right. He absolutely will. Yes, he knows it's just picture recognition and association, but still. She knows all of that stuff, all of those words, can recognize an EKG strip and the rhythm it shows.
"You wanna read a couple of books before it's back to bed?" you ask your daughter as she pulls out of her hug with Jack. "We have to start winding down, Honey. It's sleepy time."
"Mmm, okay!" She slides off Jack and goes over to where you keep her books and starts going through them, picking a couple out.
Once she's satisfied with her four selections she pushes them over to you and climbs into your lap and curls up without a word, you and Jack sharing a look and chuckling together at the way she doesn't ask. You take your time reading three of the books she picked out, do different voices for every character how she likes.
Jack can't help but think it again as he watches the two of you, watches your daughter grow sleepier in your arms as you read to her, sometimes laughing loudly and pushing herself back into you. You guys could have another.
It's not a new thought for him. It's actually one he's been having a lot lately. He's sure some of it has to do with her birthday. He's been reminiscing and looking at baby photos and videos, and photos of you pregnant and god he wants to do it again. Sitting here right now he wants to do it again so fucking badly.
By the time you finish the third book your daughter is sleepier than she's looked all night. You pass her off to Jack for the last book because you know his warmth helps lull her to sleep. It helps lull you to sleep too.
Like you, Jack does a different voice for every character, infuses his voice with whatever emotion is called for. She snuggles into him more and more, holds onto his shirt tightly and toward the end Jack starts to rock side to side. You can't quite figure out if it's deliberate or if it's some sort of subconscious soothing dad thing.
You guys could have another.
You'd always kind of talked about at least two. You're not sure why it hasn't come up yet, especially now that she's four, but you have no reason to think Jack wouldn't want to at least try, see if it's in the cards for you guys. You wouldn't be mad if he didn't want to, if he was content with the way your family is now. But god, seeing him with her makes you want to give him twenty right now. You've been looking back at baby photos and videos too and shirtless Jack with your newborn on his chest for skin to skin while you were still in the hospital flickers into your mind.
Your daughter is still awake at the end of the book but not by much. Jack shifts her in his arms and looks down at her. "Alright, Peanut. Do you need some water?" She shakes her head. "Bathroom?" Another head shake. "Temperature okay in here?" Your daughter nods at him with a sleepy smile. "Nightlight is on. We've got comfy jammies. Stories have been read." Jack looks over at her bed. "And all our fuzzy friends are secure in bed."
Jack stays soft with her like he always does but gets a little serious with her at the same time. "Anything else? I need you to think hard about it because we all really need some sleep, Peanut." He raises his eyebrows at her with a little smile so that she knows she's not in trouble.
"No, Daddy." She takes in a deep breath and sighs it out in that dramatic way four year olds do. "I'm sleepy."
Jack laughs through his nose and nods down at her. "I'm sure you are, kid." He transfers her over to her bed gently and gets her tucked in, leans in to give her a hug and a forehead kiss. "I love you Peanut."
Jack moves out of the way and grabs his crutches and gets himself up while you do the same as him, give her a big hug and kiss her cheek. "I love you Honey."
"I love you Mommy! I love you Daddy!" she calls out in her sleepy voice as you get up and the two of you make your way out of her room.
Jack pauses at the doorway with his hand on the dimmer and door half closed and you pause right behind him in the hall. "Alright, not another peep miss ma'am." He says it un-seriously enough and with enough of a smile and his expressive raised eyebrows for her to know she's not in trouble and that, as always, if she really needed something she could call and you'd both come, but with enough seriousness to it for her to know that this game is over.
You watch your daughter make and hold eye contact with her father, look him Jack dead in the eye, and speak in the sleepiest and sweetest and absolutely fucking cheekiest voice.
"Peep."
You start to blurt out a laugh and manage to save it and make it into a cough and fucking scurry back to your bedroom so that you don't laugh in front of her.
Somehow Jack fights back his laugh and after a second's pause with his eyes closed he looks at her and gives her a small, knowing smile as she gives him the biggest, most self-satisfied grin that he recognizes as his own. "I love you," he manages to tell her calmly, watches her close her eyes and then turns the light off and shuts the door the rest of the way before he starts quickly crutching back to your room, laughing more and louder the closer he gets.
You're in a fit of laughter sitting on your side of the bed, robe back on the bench, as he crutches into your room. And when Jack looks at you after closing the door behind him you somehow lose it even harder, Jack joining you as he makes his way over to the bed and sits on his side next to you.
After a few seconds you try to talk. "I could," you laugh, tears streaming down your face, "I could only see half of your face," you're interrupted by laughter again, "and it was so priceless."
Jack's laughing too hard now to even attempt a response, just shakes his head at you as tears start to fall down his face. You have no idea how long you guys sit there laughing, leaning into each other more and more as you grow weaker with the laughter.
"I can't," you laugh, "I can't breathe! It hurts!"
"If you can talk and laugh," Jack laughs, wiping tears that are immediately replaced off his face, "then you can breathe."
"Don't," you try to fake glare at him as you laugh. It doesn't work.
After a little longer your laughter starts to trail off, you and Jack wiping tears and exchanging some last chuckles as you come back down.
"Well, if her being the spitting image of you wasn't enough to prove paternity." You sniffle and wipe at your eyes again. Your daughter inherited all of her father's features so clearly in her face that it's patently obvious looking at her who her father is. "That sure was."
"Paternity?! Me?!" Jack gapes at you. "That was you! That was so you!"
"Oh no," you laugh. "No, no, Sir. That was you. That was some grade A Jack Abbot sass."
Jack playfully scoffs at you as you both climb back under the covers and move closer to each other as you lay down.
"She's so her father's daughter," you smirk at him, or at least try to. Too much genuine adoration for them both seeps into it. "She's so like you. She's a mini-you, Jack. Ask anyone."
Jack can't even find any words to use to mount a fake defense. Nor does he want to. You're right. She is a mini-him and he loves it. And that 'peep' was absolutely him and he's pretty sure the only reason he didn't crack the fuck up in front of her is because he had a moment of pride about it.
"She got at least one thing from you," Jack starts as he moves even closer to you, leaves the low-lit lamp on his nightstand on. You raise your eyebrows in amusement and to ask him what that might be. "She's perfect," Jack shrugs, his love for you in his eyes so clear you can almost physically feel it, "just like her Mom."
"Oh," you laugh, nodding at him amusedly, a softness to your smile that says thank you and you love him too silently. "You really just went for it there."
Jack clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "I'm just saying the truth. You're perfect. "
"Mhm," you hum at him. "Okay."
"Hey." He rolls you onto your back and follows you, props himself up on his arms and lets his hips and lower abdomen rest against yours. "I am."
You give him a half smirked smile. "Your truth."
"The truth." He doesn't let you argue, kisses you instead.
The kisses start as most do, short and sweet. Then they start to linger a little more. And then Jack is kissing you slowly, languid and deep, and he doesn't stop. You'll never understand how he can get you so worked up just by kissing you, but he can and god does he, his tongue swiping along yours just the start. You're glad it's still like this years later, that you're still making out in bed as foreplay, that you have moments where things will just naturally and slowly devolve.
You're moaning softly for Jack before hands even start to truly wander and tease. When he finally lowers himself on top of you all the way and takes a little bit of his weight on his knees so that his hands can finally start to wander and tease it's not long before clothes start to come off. He straddles you momentarily so that he can pull your satin sleep shorts down with a practiced ease that makes you shiver in its own right, your feet taking over for him and kicking them off somewhere in the bed as he settles back between your legs and kisses you again.
"I thought you were tired and wanted to sleep," you pant softly against his lips when you break for some air, your hands playing with the hem of his shirt and starting to drag it up. Jack lifts himself up off you to get his shirt off, movements hurried, like being even just this far away from you is burning him.
"Not anywhere near as much as I want you," he pants as he smiles down at you, the perfect smirked edge to it. Since his hands are already off you and he's sat up a bit he shoves his pajama pants down, works quickly to get them off and joining your shorts somewhere in the bed.
A little tragically in some ways, Jack is so wired for you and moving so quickly to lay back on top of you and feel your skin and the satin of your top against his skin and resume kissing you that you barely get a look at any of him. But you're sure able to feel Jack's hard cock against you, especially when he starts to grind his hips against yours as he kisses you even harder, possessive and claiming and leaving you wondering where this sudden near feral need of his came from, not that you're complaining.
Jack's lips leave yours to let you both breathe but they don't leave your skin completely, moving to kiss along your jaw back below your ear to that spot he knows will get you to keen for him every time. "I love you," he murmurs through heavy, controlled pants against your skin before sucking and teasing that spot.
"Fuck, Jack," you moan, bring a hand up to run through silver curls. "I love you too." Jack's lips start to tease your neck that he knows is deliciously and dangerously sensitive for you and you whine, feel yourself grow wetter for him.
"You are perfect," he mumbles into your skin. "So, so perfect." Jack slowly kisses his way up the other side of your neck, sucking and nipping and scraping his teeth over your skin pulling more soft moans from you that have his cock throbbing and leaking between the two of you.
And then it just slips out. Falls right off his tongue without him even fully realizing it until he finishes saying the last word, though the realization doesn't make him stop teasing your neck. "You wanna make another baby?"
Your brain glitches for a second at the question, a breathless moan escaping you as Jack sucks at your neck perfectly. "Did… I, Jack," you laugh just as breathlessly. "Did you just ask if I want to try for baby number two?"
Jack hums at you as he brings his head down and nibbles at your collarbone. "Yeah," he mumbles against your skin far too casually for what he's confirming, "I did."
"Uh," you laugh, your mind racing at the thought and the feel of Jack's lips and his cock between you and what he just asked. "Like, seriously? Like you're seriously asking me if I want to get pregnant again and have another baby?"
Jack quickly kisses up one side of your neck to your chin and then looks down at you smirking, but with his eyebrows set in just the right way to tell you he's also kind of serious. His hand starts to trail down your side as he speaks. "I could remove your IUD right now."
"Jack!" You playfully swat his shoulder.
He looks at you innocently. "What?!"
"Are you serious or is this some breeding kink thing we're doing right now? I'm not opposed to that, at all, to be clear." You give him a little smirk and flash of your brows, grind your hips up against him for a second and bask in the low groan it pulls from him. "But I just want to know. Are you serious about wanting to have another baby?"
"I mean… You can't get pregnant right now so it's just a breeding kink thing. Unless you want me to take your IUD out right now." He pushes his lips together and makes a face of consideration. "I probably really could do it."
"No!" you drag the word out through a single laugh, voice a little higher pitched than normal as you smile at him. He gives you a little pout and you give him a please look which Jack likes because it reassures him you're not feeling any pressure to let him or to have another baby and that you know he's playing around with you. "Jack removing an IUD is one of the least sexy things in the world. It's terrible foreplay."
"Well we'd do other foreplay! And I think it is sexy because it means I could get you pregnant." You give him another look and make a little noise of disbelief because you doubt it would work that fast but you more or less let him have it. He sighs dramatically and rests his forehead on your chest for a second before looking at you again. "Okay, no IUD removal right now, got it."
You share a soft laugh as you shake your head at him. You look at him a bit more seriously, but just as adoringly, your desire and lust on pause for a moment. "Does that mean you want me to get it removed?" You run your fingers through his now fluffy curls, your voice a bit lower the next time you speak, not a whisper but so saturated with emotion it pulls your voice down. "You want to have another baby?"
Jack pushes his lips together as he smiles down at you and then licks them before rolling off you and leaning against the headboard as he pulls you into his lap, forcing himself to ignore his erection and the soft skin of your thigh pressing against it. The conversation is obviously taking a more serious turn and he wants to hold you for it.
"I've been thinking about it, yeah," he admits with a nod. His hand starts rubbing up and down your back absentmindedly. "Seeing you with her tonight made me think about it more. I was kind of waiting for us to get past her birthday and all of the attendant activities to bring it up."
You bite your bottom lip and smile at him. "I've been thinking about it too. And, yeah, tonight, you with her… I'm ready to give you another twenty babies," you giggle. Jack laughs softly through his nose and while his smile is real and reaches his eyes and you can tell he does want another baby, you watch a little pain seep into it. "Talk to me, Baby," you murmur, bring your hand to the nape of his neck and start to scratch at his scalp and play with his curls there.
Jack shrugs, shallow and quick. "Pregnancy was rough for you," he says simply.
"Yeah." You return his shrug. "More than worth it though."
"Of course," Jack agrees. He lets out a long breath through his nose. "But rough was an understatement. We both know that. It's hard to ask you to go through that again. And then my mind trails off into all the risks and I go back to last time and there were some really scary moments with you when you were pregnant, moments where I thought…” He trails off, shaking his head a little because he can’t finish the sentence right now. He just can’t. “What if I ask you to do this and then something happens? It would be my fault… I can't raise two kids without you. I can't raise one kid without you."
Your heart aches for him. Jack is right. There were some really scary moments, before labor and during it and after it, in the hospital and at home. And Jack knows way too much, he knows way the fuck too much about everything that could go wrong. He knows how quickly it could all go to shit. You know it's exceedingly hard, if not impossible, for him to turn that part of his brain off.
"I know there were some really scary moments and I know it's hard for me to understand what it was like for you." You bring your other hand up to his neck and brush your thumb at his jaw just below his ear, your other fingers resting against the stubble of his neck that you're pretty sure you could worship. "But if you thought it was too risky Jack you wouldn't even be thinking about it. Your mind wouldn't let you, it wouldn't let you think about and want something that you truly thought and believed was more likely to ki-," you catch yourself just in time, "have a poor outcome for me than not. And even if something did happen, it wouldn't be your fault, Jack. I wouldn't be having a baby just for you because you happened to bring it up first." You lean in and kiss his forehead and then give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "You're going to have to raise zero kids without me." You nod at him when he opens his mouth to interject, already knowing what he's about to say. "I can't promise you that but I just feel it in my heart and soul."
Jack's brain latches onto your words, you can almost see them stop him from slipping any further into his head. He wouldn't be thinking about it if he thought having another baby was truly dangerous for you and had a higher chance of ending in a tragedy he has no idea how he’d survive than ending happily. "That's true, I wouldn't think about or want it if I believed it was too risky."
"If you want to have another baby Jack I'll have another baby with you in a second. But please know it's not you asking, not really. Sure you brought it up, but it's a conversation. It's us coming to a decision together about our family." You lean up in his arms a little and glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand. "It's also not a decision we have to make right now at three in the morning when we're both sleepy."
You'd be happy to keep talking about it with him, but it's not worth the risk of him getting in his head about it now that you've pulled him out before he could get too far in.
"Very true," he murmurs.
You give him a ghost of a smile and bring both of your hands to his neck and run them down to his chest before moving to straddle him as he shifts down a little on instinct. You make sure your pussy is over his still hard cock, lick your lips slowly. "We can still pretend though," you breathe before you pull your camisole off.
"Fuck," Jack groans, his hands flying to your breasts, thumbs and index fingers finding your nipples, pinching and twisting them perfectly. "We can still fucking pretend."
Your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back as Jack's hands squeeze and knead at your breasts while his two fingers continue to play with your nipples. "You want me to get you pregnant again?" Jack asks lowly, voice all gravel and pure sex.
"God, please," you almost whine, your hips canting against him and dragging your cunt over the length of him as your hands slide up the back of his neck and tangle in his curls. You let your eyes flutter back open and look at Jack again and he tilts his head just slightly, raises his eyebrows even more subtly, a silent instruction to keep eye contact with him.
"Yeah?" The word is a little strangled as it falls from his lips at the feeling of your pussy sliding so slickly over his cock. "Does that do it for you?" He carefully lets go of your breasts and brings his hands to your hips, fingertips digging into your skin at a delicious pressure while he helps you glide along him. "The thought of me getting you pregnant again?" Jack can feel your cunt clench around nothing and throb against him and groans. "Thinking about carrying my baby? Our baby?"
"Yeah," you pant, all breathy and dripping with the pleasure Jack's sending racing through your body. "Yes."
Jack hums in approval at how fucked out you already sound for him when you've barely even started. "You love me claiming you like that, don't you?"
You moan at his words, at him just talking about claiming you like that again, getting you pregnant again. You nod, a half-insolent half-playful smirk pulling onto your face as you speak. "Almost as much as you love claiming me like that."
He chuckles darkly, flicking his eyebrows up at you and nodding. The way he suddenly flips the two of you back into the position you were in earlier with him laying on top of you catches you by surprise even though he's done it hundreds of times before, the show of his agility and strength just making you needier for him.
"Mouthy." He starts rutting against you, can't stop the grunts of pleasure that come from his chest.
"You love it," you continue to smirk at him. You wrap your legs around his waist and move your hips in time with his, try raising them a little higher in the hopes that he'll just slip inside of you.
Jack matches your smirk with one of his own, a dangerous edge to it that makes you shiver and tells you he's about to fuck you out of your goddamned mind. "Almost as much as you love the idea of me fucking another baby into you."
I hope it was okay, and fluffy and sweet and silly (and a touch hot), and dad!Jack with his little girl and her jammies was cute or cute-ish!??!!???? Thank you so much for taking the time to read!! I love hearing your thoughts and comments and reactions! ♥️
And yeah, lol when I was four I was being a total pain in the ass for my mom one night, constantly calling for her and getting her to come to my room, and she didn't quite have the patience Jack does in this so she was much firmer with me when she said, "not another peep." But I 100% looked her dead in the eye and said "peep." Very Mich. Very very Mich. She still loves telling that story. I know she shut the door and went back to her room and lost it. 😂
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hey! i was wondering if you could please do a jack x wife!reader where they have a toddler daughter and while jack is alone with her in the park or the beach someone mistakes her for his grandchild and then he gets really insecure, reader finds out through the daughter and comforts him
Today you and Jack decided to take your four year old daughter, Aria, to the park for a family day.
Jack had worked more than normal this week and you felt he just needed a day to get out of the house and enjoy a good day outside.
“Who’s excited for the park?” you ask, looking in the rear view mirror at your daughter.
Small eyes identical to Jack’s look at you with excitement.
“Meeee! I want to go to the slide with daddy! And then the swings!” she rambles on with a smile.
“Don’t worry baby,” you smile back at her “you’ll get to do all of that.”
Jack enterwines your hands and brings it up to place a gentle kiss as his eyes stay focused on the road.
“I’m glad to have you both to myself for the day.”
You squeeze his hand briefly “We’re glad to have you too J. You deserve a break.”
He smiles as he thinks of the relaxing day ahead of him with his girls.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The walk from the parking lot to one of the open field areas is a good twenty minute walk.
Jack has a cooler bag of drinks and snacks while you carry Aria and a bag of her things she may need and some toys.
Once you guys find a decently shaded spot with a few people, Jack lays down a light blanket and sets everyone’s stuff down.
You set Aria down and look through your bag.
“Shit” you mutter quietly, still rummaging in the bag.
Jack looks up from his seated position on the blanket as he grabs some water from the cooler.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I forgot the sunscreen in the car.”
He nods “Well, we’ll just play mostly in the shade. It’s okay.”
You look at your husband with the classic ‘are you serious’ face.
Jack Abbot,” you start “you and your daughter are the most sunburn prone duo on the planet. If you want to risk it with never ending teasing from Robby, go for it. But our daughter is not leaving here looking like a tomato and in pain.”
He chuckles at the tomato reference “Okay sweetheart, be safe and hurry back.”
You run your hand through his grey curls as you pass him.
“Will do, J.”
—---
As Jack waits for you to get back, he has his full attention on Aria as she tells him about the Bluey episode she watched that morning.
“You know I was sitting there with you silly” he laughs as he tickles her side gently.
She erupts in giggles as he continues and attacks her face with kisses.
“You and your granddaughter are adorable” a voice says from the walking path a little bit in front of him.
His eyes furrow a bit as he looks up at the older woman walking her dog.
“I’m sorry?”
Did he hear her right?
She points at Aria with a smile “Your granddaughter,” she says again “she’s just a cute little thing.”
Jack forces a smile at the words.
“She’s actually my daughter.” he corrects politely
He sees the exact moment when the woman realizes.
“Oh my! I am so sorry hun, I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed th– I’m so sorry. You and your daughter have a great day.”
She waves briefly before continuing on her way down the path. Once she’s out of sight, the smile Jack had been faking falls immediately.
Granddaughter? Did he really look that old?
He was nearing fifty in a few years and you were a good eighteen years younger than him.
Did people think you were his daughter?
Did people make comments like that to you?
Were you upset about things like that? That he was so much older?
Would you prefer someone younger?
“Daddy!”
A small body falls into his lap, pulling him from his downward spiral of thoughts. He plasters a convincing smile as he goes back to playing with Aria.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You hurried to the car as quickly as you could and hurried back. You see Jack tossing a foam ball back and forth with Ari. She giggles as it bounces out of her hands and to the side.
She sees you first.
“Mama!” she squeals as she runs towards your legs.
You pick her up and kiss her cheek “Hey baby. Were you playing with daddy while I was gone?”
“Yes yes yes!” she cheers while clapping her hands.
You laugh as you set her down on the blanket.
“Okay sunscreen time for you both.”
You look towards Jack and see him looking ahead with a slight frown.
“Babe, everything okay?” you ask softly
You see him immediately give a half smile that’s not convincing.
“Yeah honey, I’m good.”
He’s definitely acting weird.
You raise an eyebrow “You sure, J?”
He nods as he sits Ari in his lap.
“Alright” he says “lets get some sunscreen on our little monster” he attacks her with tickles.
You can’t help but smile at them but you’re still not convinced Jack’s okay.
You let it go for now but you’ll get him to tell you what’s wrong in a little while.
—---
You guys have had a great time spending the day entertaining one another with Aria.
After finishing the lunch you had packed for everyone, Jack wipes his hands off.
“M’gonna find the bathroom. I’ll be back sweetheart.”
“Kay, be careful” you say as he walks past you.
While he’s gone you talk to Ari.
“Are you having a good day with mama and daddy today?” You smile
Ari grins big, looking more and more like her dad every day.
“Yes!”
“Good, baby.”
You go to grab your drink when her little voice speaks up.
“Daddy sad.”
You face her quickly with furrowed brows.
Huh?
“What baby? Why’s daddy sad?”
Maybe she saw what had happened.
You pick her up and hold her in your lap.
Ari leans the side of her head against your chest and gets comfortable.
“What happened baby?”
She looks around and then points at something.
You look and see an older lady with a dog walking.
“Who’s that?” You ask gently
Ari snuggles closer to you.
“Her and doggy said hi.”
“They talked to you and daddy?”
Aria nods against your chest.
Bingo.
What the hell happened when you left earlier?
Jack comes back a few minutes later.
“Alright Abbot girls, do we want to make our way home soon? Maybe get someeee ice cream on the way?” He says in a silly voice to Aria.
“Ice cream daddy!” she claps in excitement.
“Okay baby, we will soon.” he grins at her
You set her down in front of you where some of her toys are.
“J,” you say quietly
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You grab his hand “Are you gonna tell me what happened earlier?”
He noticeably stiffens at your question and shakes his head briefly.
“Nothing happened?” you press.
“So,” you turn to look for the lady “that woman over there didn’t come over and talk to you and Ari?”
He follows where your finger points and you see his fists clench and unclench.
“Baby, please… tell me what happened?” you plea.
He takes a deep breath.
“When you went to the car, she was walking by and said… something.”
You look at him silently waiting for him to continue.
“She uh, thought I was Ari’s grandfather.”
You tilt your head in confusion.
“She thought Ari was your granddaughter?”
He nods not making eye contact with you.
“Well J, we know that’s not true. So what’s the matter baby?”
“It… it just made me think. Does everyone see it that way?” he shrugs “Do I look that old? Do you think I look too old? Would you want someon—“
“Jack Abbot don’t you dare finish that question.”
His face looks defeated.
“But would you?”
With wide eyes you reassure him “Jack, I would never.”
Your heart breaks at how the interaction upset him.
“Jack listen, I understand where those insecurities can come about but babe…” you pause briefly
“there is no one else on this earth I want more than you. I chose you because you’re funny, you’re considerate, a gentleman, mature, passionate, and talented. You’re also so fucking handsome. Incredibly hot.” you wink
“But most importantly, I chose someone who would make not only the most amazing husband but also the most amazing father to our kids. And I'm not always the best at choosing things, we know this” you laugh softly
“but I couldn’t have chosen someone better for those roles than you. You’re it babe and you’re stuck with me and Aria forever. Ari also doesn’t care about your age, she just loves her dad.”
“Isnt that right, Ari?” you look at your daughter whose attention is being held by the toys in front of her.
You gently pick her up and set her in your lap.
“Where’s daddy?” you ask as you hold her.
She points at Jack with a smile.
“Tell me something you love about daddy.”
She giggles as you blow raspberries against her cheek.
Jack can’t help but grin at his two favorite girls.
“He plays with me and he, he kisses my boo boos and and he’s nice to you. I love daddy.” she rambles.
You look at Jack with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I told you’.
His eyes water at his daughter’s words.
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
Ari starts to move in your lap and reaches her arms out to Jack.
“Daddy! Hold meee!”
Jack reaches over and takes her from you.
She immediately wraps her arms around his neck, squishing her cheek against his. The action grounds him, melting away the remaining insecurities from earlier.
The sight melts your heart.
You grab your phone and snap a quick picture.
“Anytime you feel down about this again,” you show him the picture you had just taken
