°⋆ summary: in which jack abbot uses his famous fourth of july barbecue to introduce his new girlfriend to the pitt crew.
°⋆ warnings: no use of y/n, big age gap (reader is early 20s and jack is around 50), reader is ditzy, slight ddlg vibes but not explicitly, abbot robby and shen are all perverts, allusions to smut at the end with a fade to black (sorry!)
°⋆ wc:
°⋆ note: if you enjoyed this please make sure to like, reblog, and maybe even comment so i know you liked it!! it would really help me out so thank youuu <3 enjoy! (also i am not american guys but i'll take any excuse to write jack like this)
Every year, Jack holds the best fourth of July barbecue imaginable. It's the social event of the year for the Pitt crew, topping Robby's Christmas potluck and Dana's little Valentine's events she organised in the hospital every year. But this year, it'd be better than all the past years combined.
Because this year, Jack had a pretty young thing practically velcroed to his side, helping him organise everything. Naturally, this changed the nature of the party a little bit. Where he'd usually gone for a classy feel, this year there were sparklers on every corner, large bowls of candy, and his girl was there in the tiniest gingham bikini he'd ever seen.
God Bless America.
He hasn't technically introduced her to anyone yet, and she's been buzzing all day, excited to meet his work friends. Which is exactly what he's afraid of.
"Jackie!"
He hears her cooing to him from outside, which he simply can't resist. He's only a man, after all. He crosses the house in a few steps to see her already in the pool, braids wet and matted down onto her skin, bikini clinging to her skin for dear life.
"Jackie, when are your friends getting here?" She paddles up to the side of the pool, looking up at him with her big, wide eyes.
"Soon, honey. I told them to be here at 4:00, it's 3:55." He goes to the side to meet her, crouching down, mindful of his prosthetic.
"Then we have a little time." She jumps up to give him a big, wet kiss, arms wrapping tight around his neck. Her force would've tugged him into the pool, had he not anticipated it and braced himself on the edge.
"Careful, baby. Remember what I said about all that energy?" He murmurs, very reluctantly pulling back from the kiss. He was a strong man. He'd served in the military. But denying her was so difficult to him.
"Yes, Jackie. You said to keep it in so that I don't scare your friends, who are old and boring." She sighs, lifting herself out of the pool and shaking out like a wet dog, letting some water droplets land over his nice button up shirt. He doesn't comment.
"Not all of them are old. I'm hoping you can make friends with some of the residents." He groans as he stands up, making a mental note to swap out for his waterproof leg later on, so he could swim with her when she would inevitably beg him to. She stands up beside him, bouncing from foot to foot.
It's then that he hears it.
"Brother, I've been ringing the fucking doorbell for 5 minutes, are you going dea- woah."
Robby. Robby who probably expected Jack's new girlfriend to be at least 10 years older than she actually is, if not more. Robby, who was now staring at his girlfriend's chest as she ran up to introduce herself.
"This is Robby, baby. Go get yourself a towel." He pats her on the butt as she runs past him into the house for the towel she'd bought especially for this party, with the American flag on it.
Robby, beside him, was staring at him like Jack had just told her to go fetch.
"Is that your long lost daughter?" The snark is accompanied with a raise of eyebrows, and Jack sighs exasperatedly. "Because that was pretty inappropriate."
"Shut up, Robby."
He endures lots more comments like that during the night, mostly from Dana, Ellis, and Shen. Everyone else is too scared to comment. Just as he'd hoped, his girl is across the party playing mermaids with Javadi, Mel, and even a reluctant Santos. This spares Jack from having to play.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, old man?" Dana stands next to the barbecue with a cigarette in her hand, watching him flip the patties. It's autopilot for him after doing these parties for so many years. Probably as long as his girlfriend has been alive.
"What are you talking about, grandma?" He shoots her a sideways grin, tilting his head to the side.
"You know what I mean. She's very... energetic." She shrugs, watching the game happening in the pool. "Very much not your thing."
"She's very much my thing." He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he looks up at Dana.
"You sure it's not just a midlife crisis?" She raises an eyebrow, turning to look at him curiously.
"I'm not even close to my midlife, Evans, this is my prime." He grins, and she sighs like she's finished with this conversation. There is no helping him. You can't help a man who's exactly where he wants to be.
It's quieter once everyone's eaten, and everyone's gotten used to the idea of Jack having such a young girlfriend. He's watched her go from mermaids, to having a spirited conversation about different kinds of crystals and their meanings with Mohan, to even holding her own in a race with Robby and Shen, although he's pretty sure they lagged behind on purpose to watch her ass jiggle in her bikini bottoms.
Needless to say, there was a conversation had about appropriate behaviour with her. And there had also been an outfit change when she was done swimming.
But perhaps Jack was the biggest hypocrite of them all, because now he had her between his legs, drawing on his thighs with skin marker. She'd begged him to buy them, promising she'd only do it on herself, but there was only so much surface area on her leg, and after a time, she'd moved on to him.
So now she was drawing red, white, and blue fireworks and swirls on his thighs, head resting on his knee. Her mouth was parted, almost drooling on him comfortably. Everyone has migrated elsewhere, so they're pretty secluded where they are.
"Jackie, I think your friends like me." She glances up at him, tone still hushed. He smiles, and his hand comes down to stroke her hair softly as she lays on him.
"I think so too, ladybug. Everyone's getting along really well with you." He nods slowly, thumbing at her cheek. She bristles happily and leans into his hand, encouraging him to continue. "But that's because you're easy to get along with, beautiful."
She stays between his legs for the fireworks, but she's taking pictures and giggling happily when the colours streak the sky, shaking him. She even gets up and runs around the lawn with her arms up in the air, and he's grateful she's swapped her bikini for shorts and a baby tee. She finds her way back home once the show is over, curling up in his lap, and thats that.
When people start leaving, they have to come to him, because he is no longer going anywhere, very content as he is. She shakes everybody's hand like its a business meeting, which Jack thinks is adorable, exchanges Instagram handles with Javadi and phone numbers with Mel (who wants to come over again to see her hair clip collection). And everything seems to have gone well.
Once the last person, Robby, leaves, Jack finds himself alone, with his girl in his lap.
"You did so good, baby, I'm so proud of you." He smiles, holding her face in his hands. She burrows into the touch, resting herself and relaxing into his palms. The tone changes when he starts thumbing at her lower lip, and she parts her lips to take his thumb into her mouth. He sucks in a breath, and his smile widens. There's his girl.
She pulls off after a minute, pursing her lips. "I bought a new underwear set, Jackie."
"With my money?" He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, because he'll be upset if she used her own money for it. She nods, and he does too. "Let me see."
She clambours off his lap, which he mourns momentarily, until she unzips her jean shorts to show him a white fabric, topped with black lace, and red stitching saying 'America's Sweetheart'.
"Fuck, come here, baby." She giggles and climbs onto his lap on his request, pressing her lips to his in her typical excited and feverish kiss.
Yeah. God fucking bless America.
credits to feldiesgraphics for the dividers
tagging some moots: @pittsick @pedaltothepetal @gilmrres @pyronations (let me know if you'd like to be tagged for new jack abbot content!)
Can you write about Jack with an Autistic/ADHD girly thank uuuuu
💞Tags/Warnings💞: talks of ADHD/Autism ( based only on online research ), fluff, Attentive!Jack Abbot, Neurodivergent!Reader, Protective!Jack Abbot
💞Plot💞: Jack Abbot just loves his girl..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: Butterfly
💞A/N💞: I really really hope I did this some justice and represented this in a realistic and respectable light. And! I really hope you like it..☺️
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
It’s with a heavy sigh that Jack Abbot walks into an empty hospital room for a little down time. Showing up to work at 3pm meant helping already with four different procedures and only now could he sneak away for a little nap.
Pulling back the curtain, he’s stunned to find a fresh face in the hospital bed already. Her knees are to her chest as she holds herself a bit, pausing when she sees him. She stares wide eyed and opens her mouth but nothing seems to come out.
“I… Occupied?” She finally tries sheepishly. Jack can’t help the breathy chuckle he lets out.
“You’re.. The new transfer, right? Y/N?” He asks, too tired to truly question why a day shift is hiding away in a private room on the fourth floor. Who was he to judge anyone?
“Right. Hi.” Y/N says bashfully as she loosens one arm from around her knees to hold out for a handshake. Jack softly shakes her hand and she eyes it a bit.
“Nice grip.” She compliments gently, making him raise an eyebrow.
“Appreciate it..” He says politely, smirking a bit at her coy smile. “What are you… Doing in here?” He finally asks after another moment or so of them just watching each other.
“Oh!” Y/N says fast, as if just realizing. “Right. I uh… I’m hiding.” She admits sheepishly.
“Hiding?” Jack asks in amusement. “From… The doctors?” He jokes.
“What? No, I’m a doctor.” Y/N chuckles a bit as she shakes her head at his statement. Jack wants to open his mouth and explain his joke, but decides to just let it go.
“I’m hiding because.. I.. I lied.” She sighs softly.
“Lied?” Jack asks to see if he heard right. “About being a doctor?” He questions. “We’ve all been there.” He jokes. She eyes him closely, as if silently questioning if he might be.. She lets it go though and moves to sit on the edge of the bed.
“I-It’s my first day, and I.. I wanted to impress Dana, so when she talked about stepping outside for a smoke, I.. I may have.. Said I do that too..” Y/N admits as Jack slowly sits next to her, stiffening a chuckle. “And now I’m hiding because she invited me to join her outside on my next five minute break, so if I’m just in here for those five minutes, I can get out of going outside.” She says simply like it makes so much sense.
“Or you can… Just tell her you don’t want to smoke..” Jack jokes.
“That’s.. Terrible advice..” Y/N shakes her head fast.
“Well then go out and smoke..” Jack says sarcastically. Y/N’s eyes slightly widen.
“But the butterflies!” She says fast.
“What?” Jack chuckles.
“There’s Eastern Tiger Swallowtail butterflies at the ambulance bay. That smoke? It can harm them. The smoke particles cling to their bodies, it can completely mess with their flight speed, cause.. Fatigue!” Y/N fusses as Jack gently motions with his hand for her to slow down.
“Breathe, breathe. I.. I’m sure they’ll be okay.” Jack assures gently as Y/N frowns a bit. He knows he should rest up for his night shift. But.. Those eyes have so much worry in them that he just can’t help but give in a bit.
“Okay. What about those butterflies?” He asks gently to assure he’s all ears..
It’s a five minute break, but it turns into a solid 35 minute conversation that keeps Jack’s attention all throughout. With his mind made up, he finds Dana later that evening while she’s packing up to go home.
“Hey, Momma D..” He says gently as he steps over. She gives him an exhausted smirk right back.
“What’s going on, Jackie Boy?” She asks back.
“You’re back to smoking?” He said. She shrugs.
“Only when it’s daylight..” She jokes before sighing softly. “I’m quitting. Just not cold turkey..” She finally informs as she slips the bag strap on her shoulder.
“Got it. I uh.. I just don’t think you should be.. Smoking in the ambulance bay..” Jack says softly. Dana pauses her movements, eyeing him closely up and down with a silent yet playful ‘and who are you to tell me that?!’ expression clearly on her face.
“And why the hell not..?” She asks in amusement as she crosses her arms. Jack catches sight of Y/N as she joyously laughs with Whitaker and Santos about something. Her smile makes his own expression soften.
“Because. We’ve got butterflies flyin around here..” He says softly as Dana eyes him in confusion..
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Now enjoy these headcanons
• He always helps her navigate sensory challenges. When they first started dating, he even told her all the quietest spots in the hospital because he knows them for his PTSD triggers. And when planning dates, he always makes sure they go somewhere completely fresh and new that isn’t too overwhelming.. •
• She tries not to stim at work when she’s overwhelmed because she doesn’t want to come off as unprofessional, but it always results in her becoming an anxious and jittery mess. Jack had done some research on it, and one day she comes into work to find a colorful flower pinwheel at her desk for her to spin and stare at when she starts to get overcome. •
• When they move in together, Jack makes sure their apartment is always organized in a way that works for her. Living alone, he’d never care so much about where things went, but for her peace of mind, he knows now that everything has its own spot. Plus! He builds her shelves whenever she gets a new interest. •
• Speaking of new interests! If she ever starts a new show or other form of media, and becomes fixated on it, Jack will do some research into it as well just so he can better have conversations with her about it. Even if it’s not personally something he’d be into. •
• They have a very specific routine for their mornings before work, and even small changes can throw things off, so Jack makes sure to stick to it. •
• He's come to understand and recognize her non-verbal cues really well, like when she needs space or when she's getting overwhelmed, even if she doesn't say it directly. There’s certain twitches her face will do or quiet hums she’ll let out that lets him know he should take charge. •
• She tends to struggle slightly with certain social norms, so Jack is always there to subtly help her navigate those situations, acting as a social translator when needed. Robby will say something sarcastic and she’ll slowly move her eyes to Jack to silently ask if he’s serious or not before she responds back.. •
• He's her biggest advocate. Y’all gonna recognize her contributions to the Pitt 😤. And! No one is allowed to talk down to her in anyway. This one time while working on a patient, Dr. Walsh made a snide comment about Y/N’s pacing while trying to take over and Jack stepped in her way and wouldn’t let her near the patient because he knew his girl could do this. Afterwards, he pulled Walsh to the side and told her to never speak to Y/N like that again. •
• Y/N has a strong preference for certain textures of clothing, so Jack keeps that in mind when he’s shopping around for any new clothing that’s needed, or even if he’s just buying something for her. •
• Jack has gotten used to finding cups left out because Y/N forgot she wanted something to drink, or her starting and then jumping from new hobbies. A half-knitted scarf, a partially built Lego set, a stack of books she still intends to read. He loves it though. As a man who’s been told his entire life that he can’t ever sit still, he feels like life with Y/N is exciting. However, he does still gently get her back into reality when the time calls for it. Little notes on the calendar for appointments or meetings, getting her back on track mid conversation, performing a quick “pattern interrupt” and getting her out of the house and walking around Pittsburgh for an environment change. •
Summary: Jack Abbot's relaxing day off takes a turn for the worse when he hears his phone ring. After all, his phone is on do not disturb and there's only one person that he's allowed to interrupt his peace — you. Even worse, your voice isn't the first thing he hears when he picks up.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x nurse!reader
Warnings: f!reader, violence against healthcare workers, language, mentions of bodily harm, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries sustained at the workplace, use of the word 'assault', Jack Abbot's dead wife mentioned, description of a drunk driving accident, Frank Langdon catches some strays, use of the nickname 'sweetheart', use of the nickname 'slugger', no use of y/n, mutual pining, fluff, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 5.5k
Author's Note: Yo — so I'm still alive. I have been stuck in The Pitt for awhile now. This one has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a hot second. I also have a Robby fic sitting in there that I desperately need to finish. Those two men have truly bewitched me. Anyways, hope y'all are ready to be stuck in The Pitt with me for the time being. Hope you guys enjoy this one!
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
“Motherfucker!”
You angrily hit the coffee maker that has been causing the entire emergency department trouble for the majority of today’s shift. Langdon had watched you struggle earlier this morning before swooping in to fix the problem with a swift hit to the side of the machine and an off hand comment about having the ‘magic touch’. So, you imitate his actions now — hoping another dose of caffeine will help get you through the last couple hours of your shift. The machine stops its incessant beeping just as it had hours ago, but instead of brewing a fresh cup of mediocre coffee, the interactive screen goes completely black.
Great.
You squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath. If Jack were here, he’d miraculously show up beside you with a latte in hand. You don’t know how he does it, but the man just knows exactly what you need and when you need it — you’ve taken to calling it his ‘sixth sense’. In reality, that’s Jack — observant and steadfast.
You miss the night shift.
It’s not that you dislike the day shift. In fact, you happily accepted Dana’s request for your help covering for Donnie during his paternity leave. In Robby’s words: they needed another nurse practitioner on the day shift and there’s only one that he trusts. A part of you thinks that it was just flattery to get you to come to the light side, but deep down you know that Robby only knows how to speak honestly. Lena wasn’t necessarily happy to let her best help switch shifts for an extended period of time, but she also knows that the ED is a team — sure the staff is split between day shift and night shift, but things only run smoothly when the shifts help each other out.
Jack wasn’t too keen on the idea.
He couldn’t stop you of course — Lena is your supervisor, not him. But that didn’t stop him from voicing his concerns. Jack Abbot has always been protective of his nightcrawlers, but there was something verging on possessive in the way he told Robby that this is simply a temporary arrangement after he realized he couldn’t change your mind.
“Should I call Ahmad to escort the caffeine criminal off the premises or do you have a handle on the situation?”
Robby’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You let out a sigh before turning to face the day shift’s senior attending. His expression, usually threaded with deep exhaustion and stoicism, is teetering on the edge of playfulness while a small smile tugs at his lips.
“Y’know what, Robinavitch? We never had this problem when we had the old machine. Mr. Coffee only had three buttons and never betrayed me.”
Robby lets out a breath through his nose — not quite a laugh, but the closest he’ll get to one this late into his shift. Gloria had decided to get the department a fancy new coffee maker that makes individual cups instead of a full pot a few weeks ago to celebrate improved patient satisfaction scores. What was meant to be a gesture of goodwill from upstairs has become the staff’s worst nightmare.
“You sound like Jack.”
You roll your eyes, but you also know no one has been more upset about this change than the night shift’s senior attending. Robby has always brought his own coffee from home, but Jack has been relying on the emergency department’s supply of shitty coffee for the entirety of his career at PTMC. You’d asked him about it once when you first started working together and he’d revealed under fluorescent lights that there was something comforting about the way it reminded him of the coffee rations he’d receive during his deployments.
“Have you talked to Jack recently?”
Robby attempts to sound nonchalant; however, you know him better than that. You’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s worse than the night shift nurses. Always needing to be in the know about everything and everyone. He swears that it’s because he’s the senior attending, so it’s his responsibility to keep an eye and ear on all of his staff. But Jack isn’t like that. He’s always been reserved and professional during shifts, always keeping his staff at a distance so he doesn’t get too attached — everyone except for you. In between cups of coffee and rooftop conversations, you managed to slip through the cracks of that cool, steely exterior.
“We talk during handover, but that’s not exactly the same as working a twelve hour shift with someone. Why? Anything I should be concerned about?”
Robby’s lips pull into a tight smile at your response, but anxiety finds its place in your chest. During handoff about a week ago, Mateo had pulled you aside to ask if you had any idea what was going on with Jack. Your brow furrowed as Mateo filled you in about Jack’s sudden change in demeanor with his staff — the once calm and collected attending has been increasingly impatient and scattered. You’d reassured Mateo that it was probably just stress related since Jack hadn’t had a day off in months — and even then he spent his rare off-call moments volunteering as a SWAT medic. You figured that Jack had finally hit a wall and was running on fumes, but Robby’s words were now making you second your assumptions.
“Nothing of concern, just looking out for you and Jack.”
Robby has this tone that makes it seem like he knows more about your relationship with Jack Abbot than you do. You know about his history with the night shift’s senior attending physician, but Robby hasn’t been there for the close calls at three o’clock in the morning when Jack puts his complete trust in your hands without a second thought. He hasn’t been there for the nights that seem to drag on for days when it seems like the sun will never rise again. He hasn’t been there for the hushed conversations in stairwells when the night feels darkest and the only comfort to be found in PTMC is in each other’s presence.
It’s not a bond built on flirtation — God knows, Jack Abbot flirts with everyone. And does that make you a little jealous? Maybe. And were you hoping that the distance created due to being on day shift for a few weeks would help you create some boundaries with the man? Possibly. But here you are, still infuriatingly infatuated with a man you have absolutely no chance with.
“I can assure you there’s no Jack and I.”
“Mhm.”
That damn tone again. You want to smack that smug look right off of his stupid face, but before you get the chance to fire back a commotion outside abruptly ends your conversation. The two of you move in tandem, Robby holding the door to the break room open as you duck under his arm before surveying the scene. Your eyes immediately widen as you spot Langdon attempting to keep two infuriated men on their separate gurneys as they yell over each other. He meets your eyes before moving his gaze to Robby, relief flooding his features.
“A little help here?”
You and Robby share a brief, knowing look before dividing and conquering the situation. Robby steps in, wheeling one of the men away while you follow after Landgon who is moving with the other.
“What’s the story here?”
You have to shout over the man’s incessant yelling, but Langdon ducks his head down slightly as he navigates the gurney through the ED to hear you better in the chaos. From not too far away, you hear Robby yell for Whitaker to take over his unruly patient so he can go find Ahmad for back up. Langdon’s shoulder bumping into yours pulls your attention back to your own situation.
“Bar argument gone ugly.”
The man laying on the gurney is bleeding profusely from lacerations on his forehead, but is cognescent enough to keep loudly threatening the other patient that came in with him. You manage to get a closer look at his wounds once Langdon locks the gurney in place and through the deep crimson you see little, semi-translucent pieces of debris. Your brow furrows as the light catches one of the pieces.
“Is that glass?”
Langdon nods before meeting your eyes with a crooked smile plastered on his face.
“Beer bottle to the head. Told you it got ugly.”
You let out a breath before gloving up with Langdon. As the two of you attempt to assess his injuries the man begins to fight you both off, pushing your hands away before either of you can start getting control of the bleeding. You pull back hoping to get the man’s attention so that Langdon can start giving him the care he needs.
“Sir, I’m gonna need you to calm down so that we can take a look at your injuries. Can you tell me your name?”
Finally, the man’s eyes land on you but they are filled with nothing but unbridled fury. You fight off the urge to take a step back from the situation and, instead, stand your ground.
“What I need is to get my hands on that son of a bitch who tried to fucking kill me. Can you help me with that?”
You raise both of your hands as the man fights off Langdon once again. He gives you an exasperated look as his shoulders slump in annoyance.
“I can not, this is a hospital not a fighting ring. What I can help you with is getting your bleeding under control and taking that glass out of your head before you get a nasty infection. How’s that sound?”
Your tone is stern but gentle as you attempt to talk the patient down. For a moment, his face softens in understanding and you almost let out a sigh of relief after having gotten through to him, but then Whitaker’s voice tears through the moment.
“I’ve got a runner, incoming!”
“Oh, shit.”
Langdon’s tone makes your heart rate spike, but before you get a chance to turn towards the commotion Whitaker’s very angry patient shoves you into the wall.
“We need some help in here! You good?”
Langdon’s worried eyes are locked on you as he tries to keep the two patients from tearing each other apart. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, but you had managed to stay on your feet which saved you from any additional trauma. After catching your breath, you leap in to help restrain the patient who just assaulted you.
“Sir, please. We need you to calm down!”
Your words fall on deaf ears as he continues to lunge at your patient who is now being held back by Langdon. What a fucking mess. You haven’t had a situation like this since last year’s Fourth of July night shift when two drunken men came into the E.D. after one of them practically eviscerated his buddy’s legs after shooting off a firework directly at him. Your eyes desperately meet Langdon’s, hoping he’s in the same boat as you, and he gives you a similar look of bewilderment.
“Whitaker! Ahmad! Anyone!”
Langdon’s voice is strained as the man in his arms struggles against his hold. You’re using all of your strength to pull Whitaker’s patient away from your own, but he’s got at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you. Keeping him restrained is taking all of your strength. Finally, Whitaker’s shoes squeak as he slides into the room.
“Woah, what can I do?”
Langdon gives him a ludicrous look before his eyes land on you.
“Give them a hand, will ya?”
Whitaker immediately jumps in to help you. You were hoping the additional body could help even the odds with these men; however, they seem to be getting more violent by the minute. The man in your grasp reels back and shoves Whitaker, who stumbles back. Now with only you holding him back, he takes this as a chance to take a swing on Langdon.
“Absolutely not!”
You grab his arm and pull back before he can land a punch. The man lets out a desperate, angry cry and swings his arm back hard. His elbow connects with your nose with a loud crack. The room explodes further than you thought was possible as you spit out the blood draining into your mouth due to the blow. The searing hot pain blooming across your face blinds your vision.
Fuck, that hurt.
You blink once, then twice — your eyes finally adjusting to the damage. Your patient has seemingly settled down enough to be left alone, while Langdon has your assailant in a chokehold as Whitaker tries to pin his arms behind his back.
“What the hell is going on in h—?”
Robby’s words die in his throat once his eyes land on you. His face twists into concern for a brief, fleeting moment before a dangerous rage washes over his hardened features.
“Knock it off before I knock you out.”
Robby’s voice is ice cold and it suddenly pauses the entire room. The only noise filling your ears is everyone’s heavy breathing. Robby lets everyone cool down for a moment before barking out orders.
“Ahmad, get this man out of here. Whitaker, take over the patient who didn’t attack one of our nurses. Langdon, with me.”
Everyone complies instantly and you let out a relieved sigh as the tension in the room finally dissipates. Robby makes his way to you in two large strides with Langdon behind him. He drops his head to meet your eyes which have regained their comforting warmth.
“How you doing, Slugger?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”
Robby raises a brow as you spit more blood on to the floor, narrowly missing his sneaker. Langdon gives you a similar incredulous look. Obviously, your attempts to brush off their concern have fallen on deaf ears. Great. Two hours from shift change and now you’re a patient.
This day can’t get any worse.
Robby takes another step forward and carefully places a hand on your chin and gently tilts your head up toward the ceiling. You grimace immediately at the bright, fluorescent lights above you.
“You’ve got two black eyes, a broken nose, and you’re bleeding all over the floor. This isn’t nothing.”
His voice is surprisingly gentle and his features soften into a look you can only describe as brotherly concern. You sigh defeatedly, squeezing your eyes shut as the adrenaline in your body begins to subside giving way to an invasive and persistent shooting pain in your head. Robby’s hands find your shoulders — you aren’t sure if the physical contact is meant to provide you comfort or a precaution in case you pass out. Either way, you appreciate the way his delicate hold grounds you back into this moment.
“I’m going to have Langdon take you to an empty room and do a full exam. Okay?”
You open your eyes again and nod at his question. Robby’s posture relaxes slightly, obviously relieved that you didn’t stubbornly push back against his orders. He rubs your shoulders reassuringly for a moment before speaking again.
“We’re going to have to document all of this. Dana is dealing with a situation in chairs, but I’ll have her come find you when she’s done.”
You nod again, pursing your lips together into a straight line. You don’t love the idea of making a big deal out of this, but you also know that violence against health care professionals is at an all time high. The last thing this department needs is you trying to push this under the rug. Finally, Robby releases his hold on your shoulders and allows Langdon to step in.
Robby runs both his hands through his hair as he watches Langdon lead you towards a room at the back of the ED. He moves towards the hub in the center of the large room, gripping the countertop as he allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts. This is a nightmare. He needs to call Gloria about the situation that just happened. There’s a stack of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Someone has to alert the authorities. And worst of all, he needs to call Abbot.
Hopefully, the asshole that assaulted you will be off the premises before the night shift attending rips through the emergency department. Not because he cares for the wellbeing of your assailant — more so that he doesn’t necessarily want to bail his best friend out of jail tonight. Robby sighs as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He finds Jack’s contact easily in his favorites and presses the speaker to his ear. To his surprise, the call immediately goes to voicemail. Robby knows that Jack has the day off; however, he’s always easy to reach — especially if you’re on shift. So, he dials the number again and presses the phone to his ear. But just like before, he is once again met with Jack’s voice apologizing for missing the call. That’s odd. His brow furrows, but before he can think about his friend’s odd behavior further he’s distracted by a concerned voice behind him.
“I heard about what happened. Dana’s almost done in chairs. How can I help?”
Robby turns to look at Perlah who is currently trying to catch her breath from her obvious sprint over to him.
“Do you know who their emergency contact is?”
If he can’t get ahold of Jack, he might as well let your other loved ones know what happened. Perlah side steps the attending and logs in to one of the computers on the other side of the counter. It only takes a couple seconds to pull up your digital file and a smile spreads across the nurse’s features as she spots the name listed.
“Abbot.”
Of course he is.
“I can’t get a hold of him.”
Perlah’s expression reflects his own confusion for a moment until she remembers a conversation she had with you in the break room earlier this morning.
“He’s gone fishing.”
Robby’s eyes shoot to his hairline as a laugh bubbles in his chest. He attempts to picture his friend in a boat by himself on the river with a fishing rod in his hand, but his mind cannot seem to compute that absolutely ludicrous concept.
“Abbot is fishing?”
“Apparently they convinced Abbot to actually take a day off, put his phone on do not disturb, and find a hobby that doesn’t involve getting shot at.”
Robby’s eyes drift to the room he watched Langdon escort you to as he attempts to wrap his head around the information he was just given. Jack Abbot is fishing on his rare day off because you asked him to find a hobby that doesn’t involve putting himself in harm’s way — and he listened. He wants to be impressed, but instead he’s just annoyed at the two of you — he’s fucking tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings for one another. He looks down at his phone again, still confused at how his paranoid best friend could actually relax when he’s unreachable while you’re still on the clock.
Oh.
The realization hits him like a slap to the face and he looks up at Perlah who is still anxiously waiting for the attending to start barking out orders.
“Do you think you can manage to get their phone?”
Perlah frowns for a moment, confused by his question. And then her face lights up as she comes to the same realization as the attending standing in front of her. A smile pulls at her lips as she nods at Robby’s request.
“I think I can manage that.”
Jack Abbot enters the emergency department like a hurricane — his presence immediately disrupting the fragile peace they’ve managed to establish since your assault. Robby meets him at the door, stopping him before he can cause any unnecessary damage.
“Where is she?”
Robby frowns. Abbot’s voice is lacking its usual warmth — in its place is a fiery, impatient intensity.
“Let’s just cool down for a second. She’s alright — getting checked out by Langdon as we speak. Okay, Jack?”
Abbot’s brown eyes darken at Robby’s words. His posture stiffens and he’s suddenly aware that he’s no longer looking at his best friend. No, the man standing before him is a devoted soldier with one mission and God help anyone who gets in his way — he certainly isn’t dumb enough to stand between the two of you.
“Exam room 11.”
Abbot brushes past Robby without another word and marches toward the back of the emergency department. He finally feels like he can breathe again as he enters the doorway and watches Langdon press an icepack to your nose. You flinch away from him and Frank lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You are a horrible patient.”
“Well, you’re a horrible nurse. You have to be gentle.”
Abbot leans against the doorframe, his body relaxing now that he’s heard the sound of your voice. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips at your defiance. Eventually, Langdon pulls the icepack away from your face and his blood runs cold as he gets a look at your injuries. It takes every ounce of what’s left of his self control to stay put, instead of forcing Robby to let him know who did this to you.
“I’ve got it from here, Langdon. You can get back to work.”
Both of your heads snap towards the attending standing in the doorway, but Jack’s eyes never leave yours. He watches as your expression shifts from confusion to relief before taking a few steps into the small exam room.
“Hey, Abbot. I’m actually almost done here. The rest of the exam will only take a minute.”
Jack finally regards the other man in the room, but his demeanor shifts to annoyance as Langdon continues to occupy your personal space — as he watches another man’s fingers glide gently over your cheek while he’s standing right there. The sight makes him sick to his stomach as a pervasive, ugly feeling claws at his chest.
“Langdon. Out. Now.”
Langdon’s movements suddenly still and the room immediately feels too small for the three of you. Luckily, the resident does what Jack says and exits the room without sparing you a second glance. Jack’s cold demeanor melts as soon as he hears the door close behind Langdon.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Jack’s voice fills the room and you finally feel safe. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you hear his boots take careful, calculated footsteps move towards you. This is a dream — it must be. Jack’s fishing today, unreachable until after your shift ends. But then he’s standing in front of you, invading your personal space in a way that’s so undeniably him. You finally look up, meeting his piercing gaze and you swear his jaw ticks slightly as he takes in the full extent of your injuries.
“It looks worse than it is.”
It’s a lie, but all you want is to smooth out the worried creases on his forehead. Jack tilts his head slightly at your words — considering them for a moment. His hands move slowly allowing you time to pull away, but you let him cradle your face with a tenderness that feels misplaced in this environment. His thumb gently brushes under your eye, where deep purple bruising has made its temporary home, and you flinch away from his touch before he even makes it to the worst of your injuries. Jack pulls his hands away from you and you involuntarily frown — a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he watches the way you chase his touch.
“Do me a favor?”
You nod at his question — not fully trusting your voice at this moment. Jack bows his head slightly, meeting you eye to eye. His gaze is a raging wildfire of emotions. It’s a stark contrast to his calm demeanor and steady hands.
“Don’t lie to me.”
You roll your eyes at this as he stands to his full height again. His hands find their way back to you again, settling on your knees as he begins assessing your injuries further. You lean in closer to him without even thinking about it — it’s like Jack Abbot is the sun and you’re simply a planet trapped in his orbit.
“How are you here?”
Jack’s brows knit together at your question, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. His thumb absentmindedly rubs gentle, grounding circles against your scrubs as his gaze trails over every visible wound on your face.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be fishing.”
His face scrunches at your words, but he doesn’t stop his careful assessment of your condition.
“I got a call.”
“Your phone was on do not disturb — you were unreachable.”
“To everyone other than you.”
Your breath catches in your chest at his words. He says it nonchalantly, but the significance of that statement lands harder than the elbow you took to the face. You’re the only person that Jack would let interrupt his day off. Hell, you’re the only reason he took a day off to begin with.
“But how… Perlah.”
Jack’s head tilts as he watches you put the pieces together. Not too long after Langdon got you into the exam room, Perlah found the two of you. She helped Langdon with the exam for a few minutes before cursing that her phone had died before she made an important call. You had offered her your own, thinking nothing of the interaction. But now you understand exactly what transpired when Perlah left with your cell.
“Yeah, scared me half to death when it wasn’t your voice on the other end.”
Your frown deepens at that. You can only imagine the fear that clawed its way back into Jack’s chest — can only imagine the unwanted memories it brought up. Your eyes glance down at his left hand, where a silver wedding band permanently resides. You remember the morning on the roof when Jack finally told you about his late wife after a particularly difficult shift. The two of you had lost a young woman whose vehicle had been struck by a drunk driver. You watched Jack go above and beyond for the woman in a way you’d never seen before. And you noticed the way his entire demeanor shifted once he had to call it after an hour of compressions. Jack slipped out of the ED the moment that the day shift showed up and you followed after once you completed handoff. You found Jack on the edge of the roof — not surprising on any other day, but a concerning visual after what you just witnessed that night. He knew you’d find him — you always do. And as you took your usual place, leaning your elbows against the railing right behind him, he finally opened up about the worst day he’s ever experienced. You listened as he told you about how his wife was in an accident. How she was dead on impact and EMS found her phone on the scene. How Jack was her only emergency contact. How he despises that the last time his wife called him he never even got to hear her voice. How he knows he’s your emergency contact. How his heart can’t go through that again.
“I’m sorry, Jack. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry about me on your day off.”
Jack’s brow furrows at your words.
“Sweetheart, all I do when I’m not with you is worry.”
You both let that sentence linger in the room for a few moments. Jack continues to trace shapes into your shrubs as you attempt to calm your nerves as you realize how intimate this conversation feels. Finally, Jack breaks the silence.
“Can you just come back to the night shift so I can stop freaking out every time my phone rings throughout the day?”
You almost smile at that.
“Donnie comes back in two weeks.”
You mean for that to be comforting; however, this only makes Jack’s body stiffen in response. His head drops as he lets out a long sigh.
“Two weeks is too long.”
“You’re not my boss, Jack.”
Jack pulls his hands away and you watch as he runs them through his short, grey curls. He looks exhausted — and you suddenly feel guilty that his relaxing day off has turned into this.
“You’re right, but sweetheart, I can’t do this without you anymore.”
A part of you wants to throttle him because of that nickname and how easily it falls off his lips — how it’ll only feel right when it’s his voice saying it to you.
“Do what?”
Jack looks at you and his face twists into confusion as he realizes your question is genuine.
“Get through the fucking night.”
A beat passes. You desperately want to just say yes. It’s what you want isn’t it? Returning to the night shift — returning to him. But that’s also the problem. What is this? You thought your switch to day shift would give you some sort of explanation, but your time away has only made you more confused. Would it actually just be easier if the two of you only saw each other during handoff? No domestic moments between cups of coffee, no more mornings spent side-by-side on the rooftop, no more stolen, fleeting touches as he passes you on your way to the hub. You know what you are to Robby — to everyone on day shift. It’s simple. But with Jack — it’s never been simple and maybe that’s the problem.
“What if I want to stay on the day shift?”
Jack recoils like you just threw a punch at him. Guilt claws up your throat as you watch his face fall. It’s a lie — you know that it is. You love everything about the night shift, but you also don’t know how much longer you can keep playing this game with Jack before you simply fall apart.
“Why would you want that?”
“Because at least I know where I stand with everyone here.”
Jack’s brow furrows — you hate that it’s cute. That everything about him draws you in.
“You don’t know where you stand with me?”
You shake your head and he scoffs — the sound is surprisingly cold. He looks at you, brow pinched into a scowl. And then he realizes that you’re serious. Your expression is nothing but unashamed honesty and his head cocks to the side at that. Do you really think he’s been stringing you along this entire time? That this has all been meaningless flirtation? That you mean nothing to him?
He takes a step forward, slotting himself between your knees. Your breath catches as he reaches up and gently cradles your face. His touch is different than before — all professionalism has been cast aside and is now replaced with his overwhelming adoration. Without thinking your fingers grab the hem of his black t-shirt. He smiles as he feels you nervously pick at a loose stitch before he ducks his head and his lips finally meet your own. Your grip on his t-shirt tightens as he moves his hands through your hair. Now this is a dream. The kiss is soft and restrained — you know he’s holding back due to your injuries. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Jack pulls away too soon for your liking, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he places his forehead against yours.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been yours since the minute you walked through the fucking door.”
You bite your lip as you attempt to hold back the giddy grin that begs to spread itself across your face.
“You never said anything.”
Jack pulls away at that, not far — just enough to get a good look at you. The look on his face is incredulous — like it’s absurd you don’t know that his entire life revolves around you at this point.
“I thought I made myself abundantly clear.”
You laugh at that and Jack steals a kiss from your lips just because he can.
“I take it Robby gave you the rest of the day off?”
You nod, smiling as you feel Jack thread his fingers through yours.
“He told me to go home after Langdon finished my exam — who you should apologize to.”
Jack’s jaw clenches slightly as his brow furrows.
“Him being here was unnecessary.”
You watch him for a moment, trying to understand what happened between the two men that never seemed to have any sort of animosity prior to today. And then your hand tightens around Jack’s as you realize what happened.
“You were jealous.”
Jack rolls his eyes.
“I have no reason to be jealous.”
You raise a brow at his statement. He’s not wrong — he has no reason to be jealous of Frank Langdon, but you know the resident somehow got under his skin. He may be able to maintain his facade of nonchalance to the rest of his staff, but you see right through him.
“What makes you so confident?”
“Because Langdon isn’t the one taking you home right now, is he?”
⤷ chapter summary: two weddings and a funeral? more like two coworkers who fucking hate each other find out during the latter that they have become parents. ╱ 5k
⤷ warnings/tags. 18+ (minors dni), eventual smut, age gap, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, pinning, unrequited love, heavy angst, there was only one bed, hurt/comfort, domestic!abbot, fluff, reader goes by the nickname lola. tw: suicide, use of drugs (x1 marijuana). inspired by the movie life as we know it.
⤷ notes. beta'd by my pookie @joeldjarin who i love a lot. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated―i'd love to know what y'all think!
ㅤㅤㅤseries masterlist ⋆ next
You knew it was bad when the ringing came back.
Piercing; loud. As if your wounded heart logged itself on your brain with it's broken fragments, dying pulse beating like a drum inside the confines of your worst enemy: your head.
Lola, look at me. Breathe.
You blink back tears at the memory. How much you'd give for him to come now, hold your trembling body down with his steady grip on your shoulder, speaking in that low voice of his for you to calm down, to come back to him. Look at you with those soft eyes he'd rarely show anyone else; bring you back from dark to light.
It's okay, just focus on me. Breathe.
The rasp and the fondness. The small chuckle at your hasty reply assuring you were fine.
Good. Can't afford to lose my best doctor.
You'd throw in a Take that, Langdon! for good measure, just to hear him laugh. Unguarded, like he didn't carry the weight of the world in his hands.
For a second, amid the chaos of the room, it was just two people in the staircase, sharing a laugh like the worst wasn't yet to come. As if you mattered enough to pull him out of the ship's helm, because saving all those people wasn't as rewarding as talking you out from the demons inside your brain.
You're good. Too good.
And you believed him like a lighthouse amid the storm; he was the anchor holding down this place from falling apart.
But he's not here anymore. You'll never feel the warmth of his comfort again.
Instead, all you feel is cold. So cold.
The ringing continues, crushing your skull down with the weight of raw, unprocessed feelings. You can feel them on your skin, all damp with sweat and dried streak of tears, that no amount of water can wash away.
The world doesn't stop spinning, not even when a familiar face shows up in the center, concern written all over her face.
"You alright, kid?"
You want to speak, but it's like there's a big knot on your throat pushing down all words. So you just shake your head softly, like any major effort will make you break apart.
She nods, comprehensive. Dana's always been like that.
"I miss him too, you know?"
You don't dare to say his name. It will only make it real.
That when you cross those doors, he won't be there to click his tongue with disapproval at the overly sweet coffee in your thermos. That he won't make fun of the Taylor Swift and pink stickers inside your locker. That in rooms, you won't be able to search his eyes again, won't find them staring back with a silent pride as you prove useful inside the ER.
And still, tomorrow would be another day and another shift at The Pitt; the sick don't rest. All the same but so painfully different.
Because life goes on, and yet, you can't imagine going back to a world where he isn't around.
Your voice comes out raw from the screams that never made it past your mouth. Tired of the sleepless night after the call.
"What are we going to do?"
She gives you half a smile. "What we always do: Find a way to make it work out."
You hold back a sob with a shaky exhale. She extends her arms in a silent offer.
So you let her hug you, trying to swallow the truth:
Dr. Robinavitch was gone, and there was nothing in this world that could bring him back.
"Imagine being abandoned twice at this age."
"Trinity!" Javadi calls out between her teeth, "don't say that."
The baby coos, looking adorable in her little black dress (courtesy of Dana's daughter) for a moment so grim.
"What? It's not my fault." She holds her finger out and the baby takes it, gurgling. "I'm not the one adopting knowing I'm going to kill myself."
Javadi's eyes wide in shock. Dennis gives her a hard look.
"It was an accident."
"Kahit anong sabihin mo," she mumbles under her breath. (whatever you say)
Whitaker crosses his arms. "I hope that means you're sorry."
"No. It means Congratulations, you just won a sad bachelor pad by default."
Before he can reply, Javadi elbows him. He looks confused and angry at the interruption for a perfect jab back before realizing what, or rather who, she meant.
"Glad to see your humor is still intact."
Trinity jumps slightly at the new voice that's joined.
She smiles tightly as she greets you. "Hey, Lola."
They all share a look. It's Javadi who dares to ask.
"Are you okay?"
You sigh, tiredly. "Been better."
They nod slowly, like any rougher movement might frighten you; shatter that mask that's holding back a broken woman. They most likely had seen you and Dana a few minutes before.
You avoid their careful gaze and look around. There are a lot of faces you recognize, some out of respect, like Dr. Adamson's family and Dr. Garcia; others devoted despite it all, like Jake and Langdon; conflicted, as Samira and Baran; bittersweet, like Collins, who drove all the way from Portland as soon as she got the news. Loving, like Dana: people who saw all your flaws and decided you were still worth of being cared for.
You wonder in which category you fall.
That's when you see him, the one you hadn't even dared to think about.
He moves through the crowd, greeting both coworkers and strangers alike, showing the manners of a perfect gentleman while wearing a face that says nothing except a composure years in the making, carefully crafted to keep every emotion in bay before buried wounds and old feelings drown him.
"Excuse me," you say as he makes his way to your group, fleeing the scene. You're glad none of the trio asks, much like the rest of the staff.
Golden Rule of The Pitt #12: Whatever animosity goes on between you and Dr. Jack Abbot, it's none of their business.
Theories have flown here and there, mostly from Perlah and Princess, but not one was close to reality. It was, if anything, a simple truth: opposites don't match well.
You thought his coolness didn't paint him as an emotionally intelligent man but rather a detached, unapproachable one. He viewed your optimism, naive and felt your need for control was a disrespect to the hierarchy and interrupted the seamless flow of teamwork. His purposelessness outside the hospital in which he carelessly and emptily lived his life made you think of him less. He found your need for approval pitiful, how you'd lie and hide your ambition behind false humbleness.
Jack knows he can't save everyone, even if he tries his best with every live that walks into the ER. You think you can, not only to prove him wrong, but because you've always thought that way.
You see Langdon by the food, trying to quiet down his kids by bribing them with the tray of pastries while Abby mingles with a group of people nearby.
He balances Penny on one arm while trying to stop Tanner from raiding the brownie tray Princess baked.
"Need some help?"
Langdon raises his gaze to meet you, eyes softening. You wonder if it's your palpable grief or the bond that despite everything that happened the last 10 months, hasn't been broken.
"Suit yourself."
You choose to carry Penny, because dealing with a toddler that'll cry if you say no isn't a thing you want to add to today's list of stress.
"How are you doing?" you ask before he gets the chance to question you first.
"Trying to swallow it," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, I just came back... It's hard to believe. There's so much I wanted to say, but now he's-"
He trails off, reality speaking for itself.
"I know," you force the words out. "It's not easy."
"And how are you doing? I know this is..." he cuts off, trying to find an appropriate word. You avoid his gaze by bopping Penny's nose and attempt to distract yourself with her tiny infectious laugh.
"I'm fine," you interrupt smoothly.
"If you say so," he crosses his arms. "Hey, who do you think will replace Robby?"
No one. Never.
Other one of the things you rather not dwell on. Anybody else on his shoes feels... Wrong.
It's probably all over your face by the way he backtracks.
"I meant his position", Langdon clarifies. "You and I know that place needs an iron grip so it doesn't fall apart."
He gives you a look that's meant to measure you.
"Think Al-Hashimi is going to step in? Heard she petitioned for two attendings for the day shift, though. For better control or something like that."
You raise an eyebrow.
"What are you implying, Dr. Langdon?"
"All I'm saying is there's three senior residents about to finish their residency. Any chance administration might fish from their pool?"
"You're delusional," you snort, "there is no way you catch up to Cassie and me."
He raises his hands in mock surrender.
"I'm fast."
You chuckle, "All right, McQueen. Hit those breaks, will you?"
Frank doesn't desist. "Maybe Collins? I don't know if she got a job in Portland, but do you think they'll call her back? You know Gloria always favored her."
"C'mon, Lola. No need to be humble," the young man teases. "Robby respected you. I wouldn't be surprised if he placed your name on his will somewhere," he jokes. When you don't laugh, he sighs. "I'm being serious. He mentioned you to administration almost on a daily basis. Hell, he probably already wrote your recommendation letter."
He says it with a bitter undertone, from his memories. It also brings some of yours too.
But they're fresh, exactly from two nights ago.
People are afraid of hospitals. You, having spent half your life in them, aren't. What you're scared of, is the dark. When the voices inside get too loud. And, a place you never thought you'd step a foot on if you could help it: a police station.
"I'm here for Dr. Robinavitch," you say, trying to keep your voice steady and emotions in bay.
You knew it from the start, that ugly feeling that sank right into your stomach. You came as fast as you could, interrupting your well earned bath after another week at The Pitt, trying not to think on anything and anyone.
But when the officer's face settles into a trained expression, your fears come true.
Motorcycle. An accident. Death.
"We found this among the wreckage. Our agent on the scene guessed it felt from his backpack," he sighs, "it's got your name on it."
In ink, the promise he made. One he'll never voice out. You don't know what hurts more: that he wrote it by hand or that these are his last words for you.
This wrinkled piece of paper: his last gift without meaning to.
No goodbyes. You know he hated them, but it'd be nice to get one.
To see him one last time. Maybe convince him to stay―try harder. Make up a case you need him on so he didn't go. Anything.
Anything if it meant Michael Robinavitch lived to see one more day.
"I'm sorry," is all the officer says.
When he finds you, your grief and shock have settled into silent tears. He calls your name softly, like that one time years ago.
You don't know what compells you to do it: the weight of emotions or the fact you're the only two people Robby had in the world, both contacts logged under emergency on his phone. Maybe you don't want to deal with this pain that cuts right through you alone.
So you fall into him, arms snaked around his body. He's strong; steady. And when he hugs you back, tentative and weary at first, fully when he realizes you need it, you think his hold is the reason you don't fall apart and break into million pieces right now.
"It's okay," Jack whispers, soothingly. His grip doesn't waver once. "We'll be okay."
"Maybe Dr. Abbot takes his place."
That snaps you out of your thoughts. You tried hard not to go back to it, but you did. Probably this is the real reason you didn't want to find him particularly today: you're embarrassed you fell into the arms of a man you hated because you were vulnerable. It doesn't matter it was just a hug.
The face you make must be very transparent, because when Frank replies, he says:
"Sorry, remembered you two aren't exactly friends."
The change of topic works to lift the pressure in your chest a little, annoyance overtaking pain. Regardless, you shoot a murderous look his way.
"He's fine in the night shift. Don't see why he'd be moved to ours."
You'd never hear the end of it if anyone in the hospital found out. You willingly hugged Jack Abbot, even if you weren't exactly completely clear in the head.
You did, and that's that.
(You obviously won't mention the fact that his smell―of clean laundry and wheat soap, had rubbed off on you, smelling him hours after that horrible visit to the Central, strong enough to soothe you into sleep. Or that his arms had caged you, letting you bear all your weight on him, despite initial reluctance on his side. Nope, you're taking it to your grave)
"Okay, princess, relax. Did using the F word piss you off? My bad."
You lean to Penny, whispering. "Your dad is being dumb."
She laughs because your breath tickles. The eldest too since the word dumb sounds fun.
"Don't discredit me in front of my kids!" he loudly whines.
It is then when Abby rejoins you, probably drawn by the sound of laughter. After small talk with her, she takes Penny from you as you excuse yourself.
This time, you walk to the front yard. Most people are inside, mostly coworkers, some patients even. You sigh, unpacking a box of cigarettes and lighting one with trembling hands.
You take a drag while looking back at the house. You wonder if Robby ever felt alone, between walls so big and empty. If when he bought it, he thought about a wife and kids.
"Didn't know you smoked."
You turn around, finding Jack staring at you, hands on his pockets. He looks weird, seeing him only on scrubs so far, maybe the military attire once or twice, as he now wears a plaid formal shirt and black slacks. The top strains on his arms and over the middle, due to his muscles and thick body.
You want to say Thank you for helping me set this up, or anything remotely similar to express your gratitude, but no words push past your mouth. Except a quick, dry retort.
"Just in emergencies," you reply cooly.
He nods. "I see. Didn't pin you for a smoker, thought."
You take a drag. "Is that so?"
"You love control," he chuckles dryly. "My idea of an addiction is quite the opposite."
"I said it was occasional," you bite.
He shrugs, "Never said otherwise."
You're about to argue back when you realize the day's already been as awful as it is and you don't have the energy to keep up a fight.
"What will happen to the house?" you ask.
He tilts his head, taking in the big suburban building.
"Probably will go on sale. It's too expensive," Jack says. "Must be written on his will."
"What the hell was Robby thinking about when he bought it?" you muse out loud.
Jack chuckles. "Only he knows."
You think of the times you've been here: the way the living room catches the first rays of sun on its wooden floorboards, the kitchen full of too many compartments for a single solitary man, the garden with plants he did water but only because you set an alarm on his phone, or the bedroom door that creaked each time it got stuck. The soft thick sheets of his bed.
"Perhaps because it felt like a home," you say softly, throat tight.
Jack chooses wisely to not add anything to your comment. But it sits right there, at the tip of his tongue. Before Abbot gets to even open his mouth, another person disturbs your one on one time.
"Thank God I found you. Someone told me you'd be here."
You both turn at the same time to where the voice comes, from the front door.
The woman smiles, wide, like no amount of misery could kill her professional image.
"Just the two people I was looking for."
You exchange a look.
"Can we talk inside?" she asks.
Abbot replies. "After everyone leaves. Do you think we can do that?"
She shrugs. "I have time."
"Good," the older man smiles, all ease and manners. "Do you want a brownie?"
Noelle Hastings isn't a bad person, but you can't bring yourself to like her.
Her presence unnerves you: because where others see reassurance in her confidence, they see ego behind your own. She was an excellent case worker and you were just a resident who thought of herself a little too high.
And she doesn't like you either, judging by how, as she talks, she only addresses Jack. Rarely throws a look your way; it's fleeting at best.
"I'm sure this is a very difficuIt time for you, obviousIy. Everyone at PTMC," she motions with her hands, "We'll miss Dr. Robinavitch very much."
You squirm in the sofa. As of now, its soft leather isn't providing any comfort.
"Now. you must have many questions."
"Why you?" you cut in, brash. "Robby must've had a lawyer."
"He did. Does," she winces after correcting herself. "They just thought it would be better to have a familiar face deliver the news."
You laugh under your breath in disbelief. She ignores you.
"The house," Jack speaks first, not before shooting a look your way that reads Behave.
"Right, finances. The estate will cover the mortgage, and since Michael had some savings of his own, well, I think that'd make easier the custody."
You both nod, understanding.
Wait.
"Did- Sorry, did you just say custody?"
"Don't worry, I have aIready arranged for her transfer. After today, her foster famiIy will take her until next morning. Then bring her to CPS."
What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening.
"Child Protective Services?" you gasp, brain running a mile while trying to process what she's talking about.
This better be a joke. A sick joke, but a prank nonetheless.
Yeah, in any minute, Mateo will jump from the big plant pot near the door and Santos will laugh as she records from her phone. Javadi will upload a TikTok making fun of you. There's no baby or whatever Noelle is saying. Nothing can get any worse.
"They feeI she'II adjust best in her own environment... So, first, she needs to be picked up and brought back in here."
You remember the baby on the crib as you interrupted the trio. Was that the one Noelle is talking about?
"I'm sorry, Noelle, but I have to stop you right there," Abbot, who had been awfully quiet, resumes. His voice sounds even, not quick like your own, panicked. But, on the color of his eyes, you pick up the all too well glint of adrenalinen; the way he's containing his rage, surprise, confusion and like your own, fear.
"Why? Is there a problem?"
It's you who speaks, "This doesn't make sense."
She gives you both a look that's too much like concern, and then settles back on her couch as if she just figured something out.
"Oh, wow. Okay... I see."
As she fixes her hair off from her face, Abbot speaks again.
"Can you enlighten us, if you're so kind?"
"I'm sorry. Did Robby not tell you anything about this?"
You're afraid of the answer. "Tell us what?"
"Guardianship arrangements."
Okay, this day could definitely get so much worse.
Guardianship? Baby? Robby involved? Jack and you on the mix?
There better be an explanation that's not you going insane from grief.
Your answer comes at the same time: "No."
She presses her lips into a thin line.
"Well, according to his lawyer, Robby sat him down earlier this week to fix his will, about who would take care of the baby in the, um, unlikely event that, you know... He passed."
A heavy silence settles. She breaks it.
"Well, he named you. Both of you."
It's a nightmare. When you wake up and walk into your shift, a text from Robby and where his motorcycle has taken him will arrive. No mention of a mysterious baby or anything crazy like that.
"But, Noelle..." Jack's voice pauses, like his brain too is stuck trying to function and at the same time, understand what's going on. "Robby- He didn't have any kids..."
For the first time, she addresses you directly.
"Do you remember baby Jane Doe? From about four days ago."
"Baby Jane Doe?" Jack parrots.
Your brain scrambles for information.
Baby. Triage. Bathroom. Pedes. Dana asking who could foster her.
"Shit," you curse. "Wait, what does this have to do with her?"
Abott throws his arms up with exasperation.
"Who are we talking about? Seriously."
"Day shift shenanigans," you fake disinterest, pretending to check your nails. Then, you ask Noelle. "What about her?"
"Robby adopted baby Jane Doe."
You feel you're about to throw up.
"I know this is overwheIming, beIieve me. Even I advised him against it-"
"When did this happen?" you interrupt.
Noelle sighs.
"Before he left for his sabbatical. He probably didn't want her to end up going to any family, I don't know. So he started the adoption process, at least enough to leave her under his name so she'd stay in foster care while he was away but guaranteed she wouldn't end up going anywhere else."
Jack nods silently. Your hands clasp over your lap with a force so tight, your knuckles are turning white.
"You know what I told him before he left?" she speaks again, "see you in a week. I knew he'd be back, and perhaps sooner because of the baby. And now, he's-"
She doesn't finish the sentence. It's better for everyone. Taking a deep breath, she forces herself back into professional mode.
"But there are options. You can say no, because this is a big deaI. This is a chiId. Big commitment."
"No shit," you snort. "Tell that to Robby and his altruistic bullshit or whatever compelled him to pull this trick."
Abbot looks at her, as if telling Noelle to focus on him and ignore you.
"Options. You mentioned them. What are some other options?"
"His parents could be a good one," she suggests.
"Perfect!" you clap your hands together, like that ends the conversation and transfers the problem to someone else.
But Jack shakes his head slowly, heavily sighing.
"I'm afraid that can't happen."
You want to ask why, but it feels invasive to. While he knew a lot about your life outside the ER, Robby never really spoke about his. It's a topic you learned to avoid since you saw how his face hardened when you reminisced fondly of your family, like he was holding a long grudge or grief he didn't know what to do with.
"Cousins? Any other family?"
Jack shakes his head again. Noelle and you look equally surprised.
It falls in the room, heavy: both of you never knew who Michael Robinavitch really was.
"What if..." you break the silence, "one of us, on our own, by ourseIves... Chose to honor Robby's wishes?"
Jack adds, "Or both of us. HypotheticaIIy."
You roll your eyes. Not only is the prospect of having a baby in less than 24 hours very much real but also Jack Fucking Abbot wants to insert himself in the picture. With you. Side by side. It's ridiculously infuriating.
"They named you," Noelle explains, "so I just set up a court hearing. In the meantime, may I suggest something?"
You snort, "Can't be any worse than what I've already heard."
"I imagine, logically, your apartments aren't child safe. So, can I suggest the two of you move in here in the interim? For the baby."
Alright, you've had enough. By the way Jack's hand find your thigh and pats it, he probably can tell you're about to explode. It's amazing he remembers the telltale signs after three years.
"You want us to Iive together? Here?" your eyes widen in disbelief at the nerve as you laugh, incredulous. "What makes you think Robby's sad bachelor pad is any better than our places?"
"He had started making the modifications," she replies, defensive.
"Oh, wow. Did he also tell you the color he'd paint the baby's room? So we can buy the correct shade."
She ignores you. "It's the best for the baby, or at least, until you decide what you want to do."
Noelle grabs her briefcase and pulls out a neatly graped file.
"All you need to do is sign here."
It tumbles out of your mouth before you can even regulate it.
"You're fucking crazy if you think I'm going to sign it."
"Lola-"
Why the fuck did she call you that? It feels a profanity to the nickname. Did Robby tell her the story behind? On his bed or just passing by?
Your grief―the sadness you've felt all day now turns into something uglier, meaner.
"No, I'm sorry. You're not guilt tripping me into doing this because Robby decided to have a last minute heroic moment," you scoff. "What kind of sick fucking cruel farewell gift is this?"
Noelle adopts the tone she uses when patients are being stubborn.
"I think we should calm down-"
"Calm down? Calm down?!" you shout. "You are about to drop a baby on me and expect me to be understanding and sweet?"
"I said you could not-"
"Right. So then I have everyone up my throat because I didn't respect Robby's last wish? Because I let a poor baby end up with God knows who?" you spit. "And why do you keep calling her Jane Doe?"
"Not all her papers were done by the time he left," she answers flatly.
You feel frustration bubbling up your throat.
"Oh, okay," you laugh bitterly. "So, Robby has time to fill out paperwork that legally dumps this burden on us but can't bother to name her?"
Jack says your name like a warning.
"No!" you reject his order to calm down. "I'm a senior resident, weeks away from finishing my residency. I barely have time to take care of myself, let alone a baby," you speak with quick, angry words. "A-And Jack here- He's fifty. He works the night shifts and has a penchant for getting shot at on his second job as a SWAT physician."
"Stop talking like I'm not here," he cuts in, tone neutral. Still, the icyness in between doesn't go unnoticed by you and Noelle.
"What I'm trying to say," you focus back on her, "is that we're not fit for this. We don't have time or the necessary skills to do it."
"I think," she speaks carefully, "that he chose you both for a reason."
"The fucking reason being he didn't have anybody else!" Jack tries to make you sit down, but you roughly swat his arm away. "Don't you see? They're trying to put a baby on us like it's just another one of his sad stupid house plants to water. This is a kid, for God's sake. That's- At least eighteen years taking care of someone!" you burst. "Like, a person. A whole ass person. And you want me to sit here, smile and accept it like I'm some martyr? Fuck you," you spit, "whatever this circus is, I don't want to be part of it."
Noelle stands too.
"Those were his wishes, Lola."
Not only does she use the nickname again, but this time with a tone that oscillates in between demeaning and condescending. It gets under your skin.
"Forgive me I'm not a saint for accepting a child with open arms," you scoff. But it doesn't stop there. You feel the venom pour out, little having to do with today's emotional burnout. "Also, why do you care? Because he fucked you a couple of times?"
Jack's voice cuts through the air like thunder.
"Enough!" he shouts. You'd never seen him this angry before. Not even in the ER, back to when he was still your boss, able to keep calm among the chaos. Now, there's a vein on his forehead and disapproval written on his face to the point it darkens his features. He's even angrier than that time, three years ago. "I know you're frustrated, but this isn't the right thing to do. Noelle isn't to blame."
She looks like she silently thanks Abbot's intervention. Out of shame, you refuse to meet her eyes, but you catch the shade of red humiliation on her face anyway.
"If you don't want to follow what's stated on his will, you'll have to go to court, like I said" she speaks firmly. "That's the way it is."
At your silence, Jack takes the floor for both of you.
"Thanks for speaking to us. We... We will talk about it," he stands up, offering his hand for her to take, "and I'll let you know when we're ready to have a proper conversation."
He casts a sideway glance at you.
"Right now... Maybe it's not the best time."
She nods curtly, taking his hand.
"Of course, just let me know. You have my number."
Noelle walks out the house with Abbot following behind. Then, she stands at the door and looks back one last time.
"I'm sorry."
Before you ask her for what, Hastings is gone.
Jack sighs, closing the door. He then turns to you.
"Do I need to tell you how unprofessional and rude that was?"
You get up, making a beeline to where Robby kept his stash of whiskey.
"Save your lectures for someone who cares, Abbot.".ñ
You feel it coming back, but you push the throbbing to the back of your head.
"There was no reason for you to lash out on her like that. She's not to blame."
"She'll survive a few mean words, Noelle's a big girl," you scorn. "Besides, it's not her life that's getting ruined."
"You didn't want kids?"
You take a long sip from your drink. "Not like this, and not with you. No offense."
A faint smirk adorns his lips as he raises his hands in mock defeat.
"Can't blame you."
A beat passes before he continues.
"So, what do you think?"
"That even when gone, Robby keeps finding ways to fuck me up," you mumble through a humorless laugh.
Your eyes sting. The left side of your head begins to pulse.
You can't breathe, falling from light to dark. Jack's face becomes blurry, and all you see through tear stained eyes is him, frantically moving, trying to get to you.
But you're far, deep inside. You can't speak, chest constricted, as if you're underwater.
You're drowning.
Because nobody tells you one day you'll say goodbye to a person without knowing you'll never see them again. That one day they're here, and next, they're gone.
That you'll have to organize his funeral because he's got no one else left in this world.
That you'll have to take care of a baby he decided to adopt without knowing he'd die before he even got to name her.
That the one person you thought you could trust didn't tell you this.
If you can't relate to him, then who are you related to?
You're alone in this world, left to rot―let it fester in a city where his face haunts every corner.
"Hey. Hey! Focus," he calls you. "Look at me!"
Your eyes blink, taken back by the scream, and there he is.
Among the fog: Jack Abbot. A light. Steady in ways he shouldn't be. Forcing himself to act strong because you can't, even if the fear circles inside his eyes, and someone has to.
You feel his hand on your shoulder, with the warmth of a mentor. A friend.
"I told you we'll be okay before, and I mean it." Jack takes your hand in his and whispers your name like a promise. "We'll get through this."
Nobody tells you what to do when there's light at the end of the tunnel, but you know you won't make it.
When you can't compartmentalize your feelings any longer because things keep getting worse.
When those feelings explode and you're left a crying mess, gasping for air on a world that doesn't let you breathe.
But, most importantly, nobody tells you that, one day, the only person who sees you, is the one you hate: The one who cradles you into his arms because you'll fall apart if someone doesn't hold you, and whispers in your ear assurances like he means them, as if hugging you is natural and not a favor.
As if he cares about you enough to forget all diatribes and snarky comments. To forget he once used to be your mentor before it went sour. Before the bitterness and the distance. Before you changed nights to days. Before you forgot how easy it was to read him and know what went in his head. When he could tell what went through yours.
It's good he's forgotten or chosen to: Dr. Jack Abbot must not know this might be the last thing keeping you sane on Earth.
When Jack pulls away, standing as if to put some distance after being too close twice this week, you feel a tiny flutter store itself between your ribs.
"C'mon," he extends his hand your way; a second chance, "we have to prepare this house."
your dad moved to this neighborhood eight months ago, right after his separation from your mom, and his neighbor jack abbot had brought over a bottle of whiskey the first week and stayed for dinner and that was apparently that. you'd been coming down once, sometimes twice a month since, checking in on your dad, making sure he was eating, making sure he wasn't rattling around that new house alone and jack had always been there. next door, at dinner, on the porch. your dad loved him. while you were developing a completely different kind of problem.
eight months of saturday dinners and borrowed tools and jack says the hardware store on fifth is better and you'd gotten very good at being normal about it. pleasant. friendly. treating him exactly like what he was supposed to be which was your dad's neighbor and not whatever your brain had decided to make him.
the fourth of july party clears out slow, the way summer nights do, people filtering out in twos and threes until it's just you and jack on his patio with the last of the whiskey and fireworks still going off somewhere down the street painting the sky pink and gold. your dad had gone to bed an hour ago. neither of you had moved.
"you've been quiet tonight," he says.
"i'm always quiet."
he looks at you sideways. "not usually."
you look at him. he looks back. eight months of this sitting between you in the humid july air.
"jack," you say.
"yeah," he says. like he already knows. and sets his glass down.
he kisses you, one hand coming up to your jaw and tilting your face up and kissing you like he's been thinking about it since you got here and is done pretending otherwise. you make a soft sound against his mouth and he pulls back just enough to look at you.
"this is a bad idea," he says.
"probably," you say. "do you care."
"no," he says with the corner of his lips tilting upwards. and pulls you back in.
it happens on the patio chair, you in his lap with the summer heat thick around you and fireworks still cracking somewhere overhead, your dress pushed up around your hips. he gets his fingers in you first, two of them, thick and thorough, watching your face in the half dark while you bite down on your lip.
“you have to be quiet,” he murmurs against your temple. “your dad’s right inside.”
“i know,” you breathe. “i will.”
his fingers curl and promise dissolves immediately.
“hm.” he doesn’t stop. just watches you with those dark eyes and keeps going, like he’s got all the time in the world. “you’re soaked,” he says quietly. “already.” his fingers drag slow and you shiver. “think it’s because we’re outside?” he murmurs, mouth at your ear. “neighbors could look over any time. anyone could see.”
“jack—”
“getting wetter,” he observes. like he’s noting something interesting. “thought so.”
his free hand comes up to cover your mouth when you make a sound that’s too loud for a patio at midnight, and he keeps his fingers moving and watches you over it with an expression that is doing absolutely nothing to help you be quiet. (thinking of him doing that furrowed eyebrow thing he does, he’s so sexy gawd)
“probably get off on that, don’t you,” he says softly. “someone seeing.”
you bite down on his palm. he exhales sharp and presses his fingers deeper.
when he finally pulls you down onto him you both go still for a second. the tight stretch of him filling you so completely your brain whites out at the edges. his forehead drops to your shoulder. “christ,” he exhales, almost wrecked, hands gripping your hips hard. “okay?”
“yeah,” you nod. “okay.”
you move slow at first, finding the rhythm, his hands guiding you, and somewhere overhead another firework blooms gold and wide and you feel him so deep it’s dizzying, cock throbbing deep inside, your walls gripping around him every time you sink back down. he mouths at your neck, your jaw, muttering something low against your skin that might be your name or might be swearing, probably both.
“been thinking about this,” he says, rough, hips rolling up to meet yours. “since thursday.”
“only thursday?” you manage.
he makes a sound against your neck. “longer,” he admits. “didn’t think it was—” his hands tighten. “didn’t think you’d—”
“jack,” you say.
“yeah.”
“shut up.”
he does. he pulls you in by the back of your neck instead and kisses you properly, and you curl your fingers into the silver of his hair, damp at the roots from the summer heat, sweat gathering at his temple where the grey comes in soft. his tongue slides against yours and you suck on it gently, and he makes a low sound into your mouth like you’ve done something to him, hands pulling you closer, hips stuttering up into yours.
it’s so much all at once. him everywhere, inside you and against your mouth and his fingers curled in your hair, that you make a sound into the kiss that he swallows whole.
one hand slides between you to press his thumb to your clit and you gasp against his mouth and clench around him and he groans low and quiet into the kiss. the fireworks are going off in quick succession now, your breaths coming out as pants between the air you share, lighting the yard in bursts of color, and you come apart in his lap with your lips still on his, and he follows you over with both arms locked around you and his mouth pressed hard to your temple.
“best fuckin fourth of july,” you say.
he laughs. chest shaking under your cheek. pulls you closer. “yeah, sweetheart,” he agrees. “best fuckin fourth.”
an. im not even american 😭 but hope you’ll enjoy this :>.
Dr. Jack Abbot x (female) reader | Dr. Jack Abbot x you
Summary: The calm before "I do".
A/N: I'm no longer updating the taglist because Tumblr has been glitching way too much lately. If you don't want to miss any updates, feel free to turn on notifications for my posts! <3
Link to "You stole my cart" master list (1)
Link to "You stole my cart" master list (2)
Previous chapter: Part 125: I'm a fucking doctor and I didn't know hearts worked like that
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Mara’s apartment smelled of pizza, the expensive vanilla candle she loved and very faintly of cat food. The two of you sprawled across opposite ends of the sofa wearing pajamas, while pizza boxes sat on the coffee table between half-empty wine glasses.
On the television was some terrible early-2000s romantic comedy playing, neither of you had watched for the last twenty minutes.
Gizmo, Mara’s gray cat, had claimed your lap the moment you sat down. His black sister Button had taken up residence behind your head on the backrest of the sofa, occasionally reaching down to bat lazily at your hair.
“You know they usually hate everybody” Mara said while taking a bite of a huge slice of pepperoni pizza.
You shrugged, scratching Gizmo’s ears while he purred. “They love me because they have standards.”
Mara laughed. “Well, you’re getting married tomorrow so I’m gonna be nice and say ‘Yeah, sure’.”
“Thanks” you replied with a grin, shaking your head. You paused for a moment. “I really try to not flip people off anymore - with Lizzie mirroring everything we do - but you test my patience here.”
“She’s not around. Flip me off all you want, babe.” Mara shrugged.
Your heart ached for a little moment.
It had been Jack’s idea to take care of Lizzie tonight after you’d suggested keeping the tradition alive by spending the night apart. And it had been a good evening so far but still… you missed her. And him. But well, her a little bit more.
“Nope.” Mara watched you and shook her head. “Nope. Nope. Nope. We’re not doing this. No missing people you’ll spending the rest of your life with. So, nope, keep thinking about something else.”
She refilled your wine glass and shoved it into your hand.
“I’ll help you. Because I need to know… we never talked about Peter and this… weird… thingy you two had going on.”
You groaned dramatically. “Wow, really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“There isn’t even a story, you know?”
“Mhm. I really don’t believe you. He acted weird and you acted weird and now I need to know if you two know each other in a biblical way.”
You started laughing. “Oh my God - no, of course not!”
She took a sip of wine. “Well, then spill the tea, girl. I’m not getting any younger and we shouldn’t go to bed too late. No one wants to see a bride with dark circles under her eyes.”
You groaned again and folded one leg underneath yourself, while taking a long sip of your wine. “Fine.” You looked toward the television although you weren’t seeing it. “I had a crush on him.”
“I gathered that” Mara replied dryly.
“For years. Like… probably from sixteen until… um… twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”
She nearly dropped her pizza. “Jesus Christ - and you never told him?”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s Adam’s best friend. And Adam would’ve made fun of me until the end of time. And… Peter was kind of hot and I was kind of nerdy so… I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, you know?”
Mara nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, fair.”
“And Peter never really… you know… did anything. It was just a giant crush that never went anywhere.” You shrugged with a small smile. “We’d flirt a little. You know how it is - he’d smile, I’d smile… and then he’d disappear for another six months.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “What an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
She looked at you thoughtfully. “Do you think he liked you back then?”
You considered it. “Maybe but honestly - I have no idea. We were young and he never made a move. I never made one either so…” Another shrug. “And then I decided to stop waiting and do something, so I moved to Pittsburgh and well… I met Hunter.”
“Ugh.” Mara made a face. “Don’t mention that asshat or I have to throw up.”
You laughed. “Sorry. I don’t really want to talk about him either. But yeah, that’s the end of the Peter story. You see - nothing really happened.”
Mara bumped your shoulder. “Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because if he’d made a move you wouldn’t be marrying Jack tomorrow. You’d be probably on your fourth child with that manchild, being a housewife and not opposed to daydrinking. Like a real Stepford wife.”
“Oh my God!” You couldn’t help laughing. “That sounds terrible!”
“So, you see - your stupid crush leading nowhere saved you from a fate that’s more terrible than death” Mara declared with a straight face.
“You’re incredibly dramatic” you replied, still chuckling.
She shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s not untrue, right? You don’t want Peter. You want Jack. God knows why, but you want him.”
Your smile softened. “Yeah, that’s true.”
For a while both of you watched the movie and sipped on your wine. Then Mara shifted and glanced at you.
“I need your opinion on something.”
Your eyebrow raised immediately. “Okay?”
Mara was staring into her glass. “Should I date Robby?”
You blinked, completely thrown off guard. “Um, what now?”
“Like…” She shrugged. “... maybe it’s not a terrible idea.”
“Where the hell did that come from?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking, you know?”
You sighed. “Okay, come on, humor me - why do you suddenly think that would be a good idea?”
“I like when he’s around. He makes me laugh - sometimes. He’s also incredibly annoying and you know I like that on a man.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“And I don’t know… I feel… comfortable with him. More comfortable than with any other man I’ve been dating in the last ten years. So… you see… that’s where this comes from.” She took a deep breath. “But I also told him he needs to go to therapy first.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“And I don’t think he’s really doing that so… now I’m wondering if maybe… I should bend my own rule?”
You studied her for a long moment. “You know I’ll support you no matter what you want to do. But also… I don’t think this is about Robert.”
Mara looked actually a little offended. “Excuse me?”
You took another sip of wine. “I think it’s maybe… you know… we’re really close and tomorrow I’m getting married and maybe your brain is looking around going… well, everybody pair up.”
Mara stared. “That’s… that’s…” She closed her mouth, took another sip of wine and groaned. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You’re probably right.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “It’s probably just my… my… biological clock ticking. Like - not for babies but for a wedding. Like… my brain is picturing a groomsday.”
“What the hell is a groomsday?” you asked, confused.
“Well…” Mara shrugged. “Doomsday with a groom. So basically a groomsday.”
“So - a wedding?”
“Yeah, basically.”
You laughed. “Okay, so let’s stick with the part where you said that I’m right about the Robby thing, huh?”
“Okay.” She sighed dramatically. “And I’m probably just ovulating. My brain does crazy jumps when I’m ovulating. I swear every month my brain suddenly goes ‘You know what would fix your life? - A man.’ And then two days later I’m like ‘No, absolutely not.’”
You laughed.
“Hell, I can’t wait for menopause. Really. I want this all-” She gestured toward her uterus. “- shut down and out of business. Pronto.”
You laughed harder. Then you reached over and squeezed her hand. “But if you should decide that you want to date Robby - you have my full support. I will question your mental health but I will fully support it. God knows that fuckhead wouldn’t find a better woman than you.”
She grinned.
“But -” you went on. “If this happens I don’t want to hear a peep about your… your… you know… physical things. I don’t want to know how often or how long or if it’s good or not. I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore.”
Mara shook her head. “Nope, not promising anything. I mean - if it’s disappointing I need someone to talk to.”
You made a face.
“And if it’s mindblowing - well then I need to brag about it. You know? You’re my best friend, so… these kinds of conversations come with the job title.”
You groaned. “Ugh, okay. But just for the record - I never told you about Jack and my sex life.”
“You never had to” Mara shot back without missing a beat. “Your fiance is a walking boner when he’s around you so I’m guessing it’s going pretty well in the downstairs department.”
You shrieked laughing. “MARA OH MY GOD DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!”
“But it’s true.”
You wrinkled your nose, really trying to keep a straight face but the smile creeping onto your face betrayed you.
“Yeah okay” you said eventually, grinning. “It’s pretty good. Like… what do you always say? If it’s not mindblowing I’m out? Well… I’m in for over two years so…” You shrugged. “Should tell you enough.”
Mara’s face was torn between fascination and horror. Eventually she shook her head, clearly amused.
“You know what, girlfriend? I’m happy for you. That’s exactly what you needed. Some guy with salt-and-pepper hair, a nice back and a good boning every other day. I’m jealous - I won’t lie - but I’m really happy for you.”
You blushed. “Thanks.” Then you glanced toward your phone on the coffee table. “I wonder what my favorite walking boner is doing right now.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “No.”
“What?”
“No!”
“I didn’t even-”
“Oh, come on, you were one second away from texting him.”
You pouted.
She raised one finger. “We agreed on this. No contact until the wedding tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but that’s just stupid.”
She laughed. “Okay, well - you’re allowed one good-night text today. One. You hear me? We don’t break with the tradition just because you’re suddenly all emotional just because I mentioned his dick.”
You laughed. “It’s not even a tradition.”
“It is now” she shot back. “Should I ever marry you can reinforce the same rule and I won’t argue with you.”
You huffed. “Yeah, sure. Because that sounds like you - no arguing.”
Mara laughed out loud. “Yeah, you’re right. But honestly? If I’m ever gonna get married - and that’s a very big if - I think I would just elope. Just run off to Vegas and call it a day.”
You scrunched your nose. “That’s not really romantic.”
“Oh, I don’t want my hypothetical wedding to be romantic. I want it to be fun and crazy and well… just spontaneous. I’d be more looking forward to the wedding night, honestly” she said with a grin.
You groaned with a smile. “I knew it.”
“You’re the one who wanted to text Jack just because I talked about your sexlife. So don’t judge me, girl. It’s like his dick has a spell on you.”
You started laughing, downing your wine. “Okay, I think that’s my cue to go to bed. I need my sleep and… I really need to text my fiance.”
Mara slid a little closer on the sofa until your shoulders nearly touched, then handed you your phone. “One text.”
You unlocked your screen. “You’ll read it?”
“Yeah sure.” She shrugged. “I need to see if you follow the rule and honestly? I’m just nosy.”
You laughed and started typing.
You:
I miss you so much. And I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. I hope you sleep well. Give Lizzie a big fat kiss from me. I love you. (Signed by the future Mrs. Abbot.)
The reply came immediately:
Jack:
Stop making me horny.
Jack:
I can’t wait for tomorrow either. I love you too. (And if you don’t stop calling yourself “future Mrs. Abbot” I’m going to combust. In a dirty way.)
Jack:
Also… wanna hear about my plans for the wedding night?
Mara groaned. “Men are so fucking stupid.” She snatched the phone away from you, putting it in the pocket of her pajama trousers. “That’s enough.”
Then she reached for her own phone.
Mara:
No sexting tonight, Jack. Your fiancee was allowed one text. You said everything you wanted to say. It was cute until it was not. Good night.
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You wanna keep reading? - Next part is coming soon, I promise :)
