Summary: A code black leaves you trapped inside the Pitt with an unstable explosive and Jack helplessly watching from the other side of the glass. With neither of you knowing how the night will end, the feelings you have both been avoiding become impossible to ignore.
Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x F!Reader
Warnings: Bomb and explosive threat, blast injuries, blood and medical gore, serious injuries, emergency medical procedures, hospital evacuation, near-death situations, panic and anxiety, emotional distress, trauma and its aftermath, protective Jack, angst and hurt/comfort.
Warnings vary between parts. Please read the individual warnings included at the beginning of each chapter.
you're proactively planning your fertility like a responsible med student. dr. abbot, however, would greatly prefer you planned literally anything else.
pairing: jack abbot x angel reader
warnings: just a short lil drabble, fluff, anxiety and overthinking, age gap mentioned, reader is twenty something, reader is a med student, mentions of fertility, flirting in the workplace, implied sexual content, questionable reproductive proposals, basically just angel reader asking abbot to be her baby daddy
wc: 0.5k
“— and it’s not even like she means to do it, you know? Like she calls and it starts normal, totally normal, we’re talking about groceries or whatever, and then BAM, like clockwork, it’s ‘so how are your evaluations going’ and ‘have you thought about residency yet’ and I’m just sitting there like… yeah, mom, funny you mention it, I think about it all the time, constantly, obsessively, in a way that is probably not healthy for my long-term psychological stability.”
You cast a sidelong glance at Dr. Abbot, brows arched expectantly, silently imploring him to jump in and extinguish the slow, smoldering anxiety that has spontaneously combusted in your mind and body and soul.
He doesn’t bite.
Instead, he offers you his trademark stoic gaze, effectively deflating your balloon of expectation on impact.
“Your evaluations will be fine,” he says shortly. “You’ll match. Now type, please.”
“Sorry, charting, right. Doing that now,” you mumble, snapping dutifully back to the glowing screen like a golden retriever who briefly forgot what sit meant.
Your fingers move with genuine, industrious purpose for approximately three whole seconds before inevitably, you’re speaking again.
“But, then she mentions marriage and having children, multiple children, as if one isn’t intimidating enough, because why wouldn’t she? Perfect natural segue. And now all I can think about is this random fertility rabbit hole I fell into afterward. Which, by the way, was a lot. That was a lot of information. Like I’m literally sitting here as we speak, losing eggs by the second, practically fossilizing before your very eyes.”
You hear him release a short huff of air. Can picture him pressing his forefinger into the space between his browsz
“Kid, you’re — what, all of twenty-something?”
You wave a dismissive hand, not looking up. “Twenty-something with eggs dropping like New Year’s confetti at midnight. Tick tock.”
“You’re not even close to egg depletion,” he says dryly, nudging your chair slightly with his foot. “Trust your attending on this.”
You roll your eyes, immensely grateful he can’t see your face.
“Easy for you to say. Your biology lets you remain fertile until, like, the heat death of the universe.”
“Wasn’t aware you’d taken such a keen interest in my reproductive potential.”
You swivel around in your chair without warning, knees knocking lightly into the desk as you tip your chin up at him.
“Well, listen, I was actually thinking that if I hit a certain age and still have no romantic prospects, we could make a pact,” you muse. “You generously contribute your objectively excellent genetic blueprint, I carry the resulting small human. Voila, instant legacy preserved. It's a win-win.”
The words have barely left your lips when Abbot nearly sputters coffee all over his pressed white coat. His hand shoots up swiftly, coughing discreetly as his gaze flicks sharply, incredulously, up at you.
“Jesus — at least give me a heads-up before you proposition me for genetic samples,” he mutters under his breath, eyeing you cautiously now, like you’re a lab specimen who’s suddenly started speaking fluent Latin.
You gasp, pulling a hand to your chest. “Dr. Abbot, please — I was referring exclusively to a very professional sperm donation arrangement. Entirely above board, paperwork involved, sterile conditions, the whole thing.”
“Of course,” he drawls, skepticism coloring his voice. “Nothing questionable about that.”
“It’s all part of my incredibly thorough contingency plan. That I created last night,” you assure him, nodding fervently. “Proactive and forward-thinking, exactly the qualities you’re always nagging me to develop. See? I listen.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he says, fixing you with a stern, pensive look. “Face the screen.”
You obediently face the screen, fingers tapping out a half-hearted sentence once again, before your curiosity inevitably gets the best of you again, eyes flicking over your should to peer at him through lowered lashes.
“Not hearing a hard no,” you hum.
“It is a hard no,” he starts, leaning in to talk against your ear, “because If I decide to help you out with that particular problem, it’s going to be the old-fashioned way.”
He straightens smoothly, unbothered as he walks away, leaving your heart stumbling over itself in dizzy little circles.
Find My Pitt Masterlist here
Jack could be relentless when it came to stirring up trouble.
Especially when it came to poking a little fun at PTMC's Shark.
What no one could quite understand was why? Or how Jack managed to get away with it.
Not until you, Jack's fearless firefighter of a wife, comes rushing into the ER.
Turns out your presence worries more than just Jack.
Notes: strong language. established relationship. medical inaccuracies. injuries. Jack being relentless when it comes to teasing his brother-in-law. overprotective Shark.
Word Count: ~4.5k
Jack was known to poke a little fun here and there.
Known to keep a steady head, a calm resolve.
Keeping things light hearted despite the weight of the work. Whatever troubles he had he buried them deep inside, something very few people knew..
It was a trait most carried whilst working the night shift.
An air of indifference, so polarising from the dayshift’s tightly wound energy, it could give someone whiplash.
But one thing remained the same between the day and night shift.
Was its need to feed on gossip.
Gossip was what made the ER spur on. Or at least, simply helped maintain a little sanity for those who worked there.
He loved stirring up a little humour.
His therapist had told him more than once that it was a coping mechanism – but he countered that comment by asking what harm could a little laugh here and there really do?
Whenever someone new came aboard.
One of the inevitable questions that came to their mind was – How did you lose your leg?
Now it wasn’t like everyone outright asked him, most skirting around the topic, too afraid to ask, too timid to broach such a personal topic.
But there were times where some intern or student let their curiosity get the better of them.
Had let the question pass by their filter.
And that such time was now.
As Ogilvie raised a brow, pointed at Jack’s leg and straight up asked, “How’d you lose it?”
A hush falling over those nearby, a huff of annoyance at his blunt question. The insensitivity of it all.
But in Jack’s eyes, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
As Jack catches sight of PTMC’s Shark. The chilling orthopedic surgeon that made everyone’s blood freeze at the sight of him.
That made people part and duck their heads, averting their gaze.
Only a select few found the ability to stand toe-to-toe with him. To not waver in his presence.
And one of those few, was Jack Abbot.
A grin slipping onto Jack’s face as he answers dryly in response to Ogilvie's question, “Bitten off by a shark"
Jutting a finger over towards Park, "That one, that one took my leg,” the words were so blatant, and dry.
An expression of complete seriousness taking over Jack’s features as he spoke.
One that Ogilvie honestly couldn’t decipher from being real or false. His mind knew it was a joke, and yet Jack’s delivery couldn’t have sounded more honest.
Catching word of the joke, Park merely scoffed with the slightest shake of his head, concealing the faintest chuckle beneath his breath.
It wasn’t the first time Jack had made that joke.
And both knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The joke never once got old, for either of them.
Jack often brushed off questions about his leg with a simple, before you ask…it was a shark. It was one of Jack’s favourite jokes when avoiding the topic.
Jack shot a look back at Ogilvie, “Now shouldn’t you be helping with hand-offs?”
“Uh–yeah, course,” His eyes widened, stammering slightly with a nod of his head, ducking away.
Jack clicks his tongue, turning to face Park, “I swear that kid is going to make a fight break out in here if he doesn’t learn to bite his tongue”
An air of mutual respect hangs between them. A silent understanding between the two.
“And this is why I chose to go into surgery and not emergency med”
“Hm, and why’s that?”
“The patients tend to be less chatty,” Brendon’s eyes glance up at the clock, eyes furrowing as he simply nods towards Jack. “Makes it easier to talk shit”
Jack merely chuckles from his response, patting his back before Park disappears back upstairs.
It was rare.
But not an uncommon sight to see Jack and Brendon get along.
Whenever they passed each other, every one could tell that there was a friendliness between their interactions.
No one could quite pinpoint why.
Or how.
But it was clear that Brendon tolerated Jack.
But this mutual respect didn’t mean Jack didn’t divulge himself in a little gossip here and then about the Shark.
Whether he’d be passing by as his colleagues spoke, catching wind that the topic was about Park.
He’d add certain little things, “I heard he only ever listens to the soundtrack of Jaws whilst he operates” True or not, he liked to poke fun at the man.
“And how do you know that?” Santos would raise a brow in question.
Jack would simply shrug, “Heard it from someone I know”
It’d be simple things, small things that amused Jack.
Slipping in little truths here and there.
The information always chalked up to having heard it from someone he knew.
Now this someone as far as anyone knew could’ve been anyone, from admin, to a scrub nurse to a fellow doctor in the hospital that Jack was friends with.
No one any wiser to the fact that he was, in fact, referring to his wife.
Brendon Park’s sister.
You.
It was no secret to the staff of PTMC’s emergency department that Jack was happily married.
He proudly wore his wedding ring for all to see.
Speaking highly of you, a clear pride and deep devotion in his tone as he spoke of you.
He kept a photo of you in his wallet, and his camera roll was filled with photos of you and him, simply happy. Just waiting to be pulled out and scrolled through.
The sight of you never failed to bring a smile to Jack’s face.
Slipping you into the conversation with ease. Without even realising it, he could easily spend minutes talking about you to anyone that would listen.
On occasion even doting about you to his patients whilst he worked.
Going on and on about how strong and courageous you were. Fearless. Compassionate.
…
From the moment Jack had laid eyes on you.
His first thought was that you were smoking hot.
Literally smoking as you brushed away at the ashes from your suit, smoke curling from behind you.
Whilst you walked out of the building you and your team had just wrangled with, containing the burning embers until they were out.
He was on the scene assisting the SWAT team as a medic.
And he simply couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you carried yourself with confidence. Words firm as you made the next orders for your team. You were captivating. As you took control of the chaos around you.
How you had taken the time to crouch down and console one of a young boy who had gotten caught up in this mess.
It was that little boy that had brought you over to him.
Having tugged off your glove, your hand was wrapped with his, as you stopped before Jack. The slight dusting of embers on your cheek.
“Do you mind checking up on him? Just want to make sure he didn’t inhale too much of the smoke,” you had asked. “I’d go to the EMTs, but they’re all a bit preoccupied at the moment”
Jack nodded, “Of course,” his eyes moving down to the boy, whilst he crouched before him, to appear a little more friendly.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“George”
“Well George, I’m Dr Abbot, but you can call me Jack. Do you mind if I take a look at you, make sure everything’s ok?”
George nods, “Ok,” his hand never lets go of yours. Clutching it tightly.
“You were pretty brave in there,” Jack said whilst glancing up at you.
You shrugged slightly, “All part of the job, isn’t it?”
Eyes drifting down to the little boy by your side, “Though I think you were braver than me George, maybe you’ll be a firefighter one day huh?”
“Or you could be a doctor?” Jack added.
While George’s nose scrunched up laughing at the two of you. His mind drifted away from the stressful events, as he focused on you both.
“Saving lives, and helping people,” Jack continues to say.
While you twist your mouth, debating his words, “Firefighters do all that too, and we get to ride in a pretty cool truck, what do you say George?”
Whilst George tilts his head in thought.
Jack chuckles, feigning defeat, “When you say it like that, being a firefighter does sound pretty cool”
“Then I’ll count on seeing you at the sign ups,” you remark jokingly.
Jack’s hands moved swiftly, announcing anytime he did something, and what he was checking for. From checking his pupils, to listening to his heartbeat, Jack was thorough.
“Can you take a deep breath in for me George?” Jack asks, while George agrees, “One, two, three, and out, that’s it.”
Your eyes watch as Jack continues to be gentle, humorous as he makes the young boy laugh.
There was something soothing about Jack.
Something that made the adrenaline coursing through you begin to rest and settle. Heart steadying.
“Seems like everything is in order, George, I’d offer you a lollipop but it seems like one of the only things I don’t have in my pockets,” Jack jokes.
“Hey Park! We’ve located the kid’s mom,” one of your colleagues called over. Whilst you nodded in acknowledgement, before looking back at Jack.
“Thanks again for the help, doc”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Jack nodded.
You both hesitate for a moment, not yet wanting to part. “I don’t know what it is about you Abbot, but something tells me you’re trouble”
“Hopefully the good kind,” he replies, with a small quirk of his lip.
“–Park, c’mon!” you’re urged once more.
“I’m coming,” You hum, with a small nod of your head as you wave at Jack. “I’ll see you around”
“See ya”
One of his colleagues comes up to his side, as Jack’s eyes follow you. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like to,” he replied.
Clapping his shoulder, Jack’s attention snapped to the side, “Maybe next time Romeo,” and with that Jack is pulled away to attend to another injury.
From that moment on.
It felt like each time Jack saw a fire truck or a cluster of firefighters, he always, without meaning to, searched for your face in the crowd. Had kept an eye out just to see you once more.
Until eventually it had faded.
His hope had begun to dissipate. Pittsburgh was a big city afterall. The chance of seeing you again was slim to none.
Days turned into weeks, which had turned into months.
Until you had become a distant memory, simply a nice idea.
Well.
That was until you had tapped on his shoulder. Whilst standing in line at a coffee shop one late afternoon, smiling as he met your eye.
You would be lying to say your mind didn’t drift to the memory of the medic you had met all those months ago.
The image of him flitting into the forefront of your mind. How his eyes held a depth to them, unwavering, calculating. The way he held eye contact with you. Softening ever so slightly.
There was a story behind those hazel eyes.
A story you wanted to know.
Eyes tracing his features, as you took in his appearance. No longer wearing the camo tactile suit of a SWAT medic, instead simply in a black t-shirt and cargo pants.
Upon meeting your eyes, they blinked in surprise, before a smile graced his features.
“Well if it isn’t Pittsburgh’s finest firefighter,” he tilts his head, “It’s good seeing you again”
“I see I made quite an impression,” you grinned. With this look in your eye that had him enthralled.
“As if I could forget, Park wasn’t it?” he said.
With a smile you nodded in confirmation, “But you can call me Y/N”
“Well if you’re not busy, how about you join me for some coffee?”
You pause for a moment, letting the offer stand in the air. Before you eventually nod, “I’d love to”
“Great,” a twinkle sparked in his eyes.
Intrigue developing.
Laughter and smiles shared over coffee. Swapping stories from your own funny moments as a firefighter to Jack’s own mishaps in the ER.
A friendship gained, with the feeling that something more could develop.
When schedules aligned. You’d share a coffee or tea, or whatever you felt like, maybe even breakfast before your shift started and after his shift ended.
You had grown closer until soon, the line between friendship and something more had become blurred.
As Jack leaned in, hand caressing your cheek gently. Waiting, tentative, longing to cross that line. Until you tugged him down, crashing your lips against his, melting into his embrace with a sigh.
It was messy at first, clumsy and new.
Trying to find your rhythm together. But once you did. It was absolute bliss. A peace harbouring between you both.
Understanding one another, even in the silences when words felt too difficult to say.
That wasn’t to say it was all perfect.
That there weren’t times you wanted to pull your hair out in frustration as he’d shut you out. Or times where you would be reckless coming home worn out from a shift as Jack would incessantly worry over you.
But you both pulled through.
You learned to grow, to be better. For yourselves. And for each other.
Jack should’ve known that a life with you would always be full of surprises.
Especially when you insisted he meet your brother.
The brother you had mentioned a handful of times, how he was scary but a real softy once you got to know him.
Imagine Jack’s surprise when he opened the door to your home, only to be confronted by the sight of Brendon Park.
The orthopedic surgeon known as the Shark of the very hospital that Jack worked at.
It definitely started out as a tense meeting.
Whilst you tried your best to melt the tension. It didn’t go past you to see how Brendon’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing at Jack. How Jack held his gaze. Cool. Unflinching.
Both simply, polite. But nothing more.
A stale mate.
Only once you slapped him in the arm did his cold facade begin to fracture. “Cool it,” you muttered to Brendon with a pointed look.
Jack watched as Brendon relaxed, how it was clear he cared for you. The way you both interacted with ease. A clear bond.
A side to Brendon he never thought he would get to see.
Jack followed your lead as you teased Brendon, whilst Jack would add his own quips, growing bolder with each passing meeting.
And though Brendon was never one to reveal the cards closest to his chest.
He was glad to see you so happy with Jack.
And even happier when he watched as you and Jack had exchanged your, I Dos, words of cherished promises and love. Brendon couldn’t believe it, the little girl he once grew up with was now grown and married.
Hell, Brendon still couldn’t believe the risks you put yourself through day in and day out as a firefighter.
Even if at times all Brendon wanted to do was wrap you up in bubble wrap and ensure you were ok. He knew that wasn’t a solution.
But no matter what, no matter how much time would pass he would always worry over you. It was part of his job as your brother.
Even if you were confident and able.
Fearless. Bold.
When you walked into a room it was as though you would gain control of it. Eyes would look to you. Your shoulders pushed back, a keen look in your eye.
You and Jack made quite the pair.
That was the you that those in the ER had grown to know. In the fleeting moments when you’d drop by, You’d always take a moment to say hello to everyone whenever time allowed.
Even sometimes bringing in a little something for everyone to eat – knowing all too well the negative impact an empty stomach can have on morale.
You were always a welcomed sight.
Unfortunately.
Tonight was one of those nights they wished they didn’t see you. On the cusp of changeover, just as the night shifters had begun to filter in as those from the day began to file out.
A trauma had been called through.
Another trauma.
Nothing out of the ordinary, especially for those in the Pitt. Barely batted an eye at the information, simply going through the motions as they prepared for it.
Female, a firefighter that had simply got caught in a bad accident.
What no one had expected however.
Was you.
The moment the gurney rolled through the doors it felt like everyone had their breaths caught in their throat.
Snapping back into motion as they hear your muffled groans.
Jack felt like he couldn’t move.
It felt like his heart had stopped.
You were lying there.
Covered in soot. Your gear, partially cut away. A cervical collar wrapped around your neck. One of your legs securely stabalised in an inflated splint.
Bruises already blooming across your jaw.
Yet somehow.
Somehow.
You still managed a grin, running high on adrenaline or on the medications, that was something you couldn’t decipher.
“Hey–” you managed to choke out, voice strained.
“Jesus Christ," Jack had muttered, feet moving fast as he moved beside you. Eyes flickering to everything and everyone as they work around you.
You pull his attention back to you, as you grasp his hand. “Look at me,” you said firmly.
His brows knitted. Worry plastered all over his face.
“Don’t do that”
“Do what?”
“That face, that terrified look doesn’t suit you,” you mumble out, breathing short between your words. “Especially on your handsome face”
A few of the others in the room stifle a laugh.
Jack bites his lip, before sucking in a harsh breath, “I’m sorry love,” his hand clasps yours tighter. Unable to shake the worry from his features.
“I’m going to be fine”
No matter how many times you might say that to him. Jack’s shoulders remained tense. On edge. His attention flickers between you and your vitals. Doing his best to keep you alert.
To keep you talking.
To keep you breathing.
To keep you smiling.
Because smiling meant that you were okay. At least, okay by your standards.
Robby moved fluidly, quick and efficient, doing his very best to ensure you were going to make it through this. He was not going to be the reason Jack lost another wife…
“Page ortho,” he had directed, eyes assessing your leg. No signs of broken skin tissue, which was good, less risk of infection. But there was clearly something wrong with your leg.
Ordering scans as they assess the damage.
Shit.
That was the thought that had crossed Jack’s mind once the word ortho filled the air. Eyes glancing down to his watch.
There was no way Park would still be here.
No way that he would be the surgeon called down.
A wave of relief had washed over him as the orthopede that had appeared, was instead one of the residents.
Watching intently as they worked upon you, feeling the weight of Jack’s eyes.
It seems.
That Jack’s slight relief was short lived.
“What’s the verdict?” Park’s deep voice echoed in the room.
The universe has a strange sense of humour.
The room stilled.
As Brendon appeared at the door. Eyes stern, cold, calculating as he glances at those around the room.
But once his eyes land on you.
He freezes.
Eyes widening, a lump forming in his throat. Dana might have called him down here.
But this was not what he had expected to see.
Not who he had expected to see.
When she had said the words urgently. He imagined a lot of different scenarios. But he never once expected to see you here.
“It appears to be a fractured tibia,” the resident reported.
You snorted, “Think it’d be okay if I borrow your crutches?” you teased Jack.
“Do you really think this is the time to be joking?”
“You could teach me how to use ‘em,” you continued.
Those around you laugh lightly from your jokes.
All except for Brendon and Jack.
“What happened?” Brendon’s face hardened.
Just as the resident was about to speak up, about to explain the details of your fractured tibia. They stopped short, noticing that his attention was directed at you.
“I’m fine,” you replied.
Brendon shook his head, moving to assess the imaging himself, “Fine people don’t get wheeled into the ER”
“Everyone has a bad day,” you shrug, wincing slightly from the movement. Jack’s hand grips yours tighter.
“And what did your bad day include?” he asks, words clipped.
“Building collapsed, that’s all,” you murmured. Your other hand waved lazily, trying to decrease the situation.
“Y/N?” he asked once more.
You simply complained, “Oh my god, you’re hovering”
His brows knit at your words, “I’m not hovering, just worried. Right Jack?”
“Right,” Jack nodded.
Brendon crosses his arms over his chest, lips pulled taut.
"I am making sure you're okay."
But there was this glint in your eye, one that Jack had seen far too many times to count. One he had recognised immediately.
Oh no.
Robby arching a brow at the sight.
Whilst the others watch in confusion, completely left in the dark as to what was happening. Never had Park shown such interest in a patient.
Before Jack could stop you, your arm had reached up.
Your finger pressing against Brendon’s nose.
As you booped him.
You had fucking booped Shark’s nose.
Everyone held their breaths, waiting for his reaction, waiting to see what would happen.
The look on Brendon’s face was one of blinking shock.
Whilst you bore a delighted grin.
“What the fu–” he had grumbled out.
Until you had booped his nose again, his hand catching your wrist. Firm but not harshly.
“What are you doing?” he raises a brow as he looks to you, eyes narrowed.
Whilst Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I read somewhere that sharks back down if you bump them on the nose,” you had explained, a small laugh escaping you before forming into a harsh cough.
Instead of a growling rage. Instead of a harsh retort.
The whole room watched as Shark, PTMC’s fiercest orthopedic surgeon. The very man that could make medical students and interns cry with a simple click of his tongue.
Any harshness had been bitten back, as he instead crouched by your side, grasping your free hand.
Here he was.
Softening.
“Are you ok?” he asks you, softly.
“I will be if you let anyone here do their job,” you squeeze both of their hands, eyes moving to glance between them both.
“It’s not my first broken leg, and you know it,” you looked at Brendon.
He remarks, “Don’t blame me for worrying over you”
Your hand slipped from his, as you pinched his cheek, “I know you’re just being a good brother”
Brother.
The word travelled through to the ears of those nearby. Eyes widening in shock. As if today couldn’t have brought any more surprises.
“As the break is clean and transverse, surgery isn't necessary,” someone had announced. “It’ll likely be a cast for several months to allow it to heal”
You sigh.
Whilst you had been putting on a brave face you had a genuine feeling of relief rush through you. No surgery was a good sign.
Even if you were feeling good now. Anything could happen.
“I love you both, a lot–” you had begun to say.
Jack clenched his jaw, shaking his head, “Don’t speak like that”
You send him a look, “I’m just saying I love you”
“That tone says something else,” his words hang between you.
“I love you too,” he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.
Robby lets out a chuckle as he catches a glimpse of outside the trauma room. Knowing that this incident had added fuel to the flames, gossip spread like wildfire.
Just outside of the trauma room, where you laid, Brendon on one side, as Jack stood on the opposite.
The second it became clear that you weren’t dying.
That you were in the clear.
The second everyone realized your injuries amounted to a cast, a handful of bruises, and a mandatory period of sitting still that would undoubtedly drive you insane—
The gossip began.
Dana bit back a grin as she overheard the murmurs that passed through. This was something that was definitely going to stick around.
“Well this explains it.” Santos said arms folded over her chest.
Whitaker raised a brow, “Explains what?”
She elbows him as though it were obvious, “Explains why Abbot and Shark get along”
“They’re obviously playing civil for her sake,” Princess comments, nodding in agreement. “Seems like Mrs Abbot was once Miss Park”
“They’re always acting like this” Ellis stated as she came up to check up on charts.
“Did you know?”
Ellis stared at them confused. “You didn’t?” her eyes scanning those before her. The dayshifters who had gotten caught up once more with overtime.
And those who simply didn’t want to leave until they knew you were ok.
“No,” Santos exclaimed.
Javadi shook her head, “Had no idea”
“Why would we know that?”
Their shock had only worsened once Mel joined the conversation. “What’s everyone talking about?”
“Y/N, Abbot’s wife, the firefighter” Mohan began to explain.
“Yeah?”
“She’s Park’s sister”
“Oh,” Mel said.
“Oh?” Santos raised her brow.
She tilted her head, brows furrowing, “I thought everyone knew that?” her eyes glanced around at those standing there. Meeting Ellis’ eye who nods, believing the same thing.
“How did you know this?”
“Dr Abbot mentioned it,” Mel explained. It was in passing and so small, to the point that Mel didn’t think anything more of it.
“Of course he did,” Javadi sighed.
Questions brewing in their mind. Their thoughts run wild.
Questions about what it was like having Park as a brother?
What was it like having Park as a brother in law?
How did Abbot not cower when he realised?
Did Park give an overprotective brother talk?
Everything and anything that came to mind.
They would simply have to wait for their questions to be answered just until you were feeling better.
Your hand not once leaving Jack’s as he stood by your side. Soothing you and consoling you.
The worry that had pent up within him now finally was able to settle.
You were safe.
That was all that mattered to him, and to Brendon.
At least now everyone could say that one thing was for sure.
While a shark might not have taken Jack’s leg.
It was true.
That a shark’s sister had taken his heart.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I just loved the idea of Jack using the excuse of a shark biting his leg off, only to tease his brother in law Brendon. Both finding a middle ground when it came to joking about the other. and I totally picture most of the night are already in the know about your relation to Shark as well as Mel!! catching everyone else off guard about it. Just know that no one can look at Abbot or Park the same after this interaction haha
Let me know what you thought ✨
There will be more to come for the Shiver Collection!! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist ♥️
Next up will feature Mateo Diaz x Reader: Tricky Fish
Read Part 2: Surviving The Shark
Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕
For more Jack Abbot Works check out my series below!
Such as my Dr Jack Abbot x Reader Who Would've Thought series here💖
Or my fic Based on Waitress the Musical, Dr Jack Abbot x Waitress!Reader Sugar, Butter, Flour series 🥧
Or for a lil bit of hurt with eventual comfort check out Jack and the reader create a bond through being widowers, I Know You're Hurting series
Or check out my overall Masterlist here
You ask Jack for a picture--a selfie to be precise--and who is he to say 'no' to you?
My penance for not posting anything for The Pitt in what feels like a century. Sorry if it's bad, I just needed something to get me back into it :) cheers
Jack likes it when you send him pictures during the day. It’s one of the many “rules” he has for keeping you at home, on his payroll, so to speak. He likes seeing the evidence of his hard work splayed across the screen in the form of snapshots of your daily activities.
Working out, wearing the skin-tight spandex outfits he buys for you. Picking up an overpriced coffee from whatever cute coffee shop you stumble upon during your morning strolls. Trying on dresses for occasions that have yet to appear on your calendar, snapping photos in the dressing room mirror.
And your face. It’s those damn selfies he loves so much. Seeing your smile appear on his phone during the far-and-few breaks he gets during his back-breaking shifts on the E.D. floor.
He’s perfectly content responding with a heart emoticon or a quippy phrase, nothing more. And you don’t ask for anything more, for which he is mighty grateful.
Until today.
Beneath a photo of your bright face, grinning wide beneath the buttery afternoon sun, is a request. It’s not for a new pair of shoes, or a set of lingerie he can later remove with his teeth. It’s not for another trinket to add to your collection–those little naked babes that stare at him from the windowsill whenever he sneaks into the bedroom, home from a shift. No, it’s not for a toy or an expensive piece of sparkle you can wear on your neck.
It’s for a photo.
Of him.
Now! Pretty please!
When there’s a lull, he takes advantage of the break in the chaos to slink out to an empty on-call room. He angles his phone just right, and thinks way too much about what to do with his lips, his eyes, his teeth. He presses the button, capturing his face in the frame. Before giving the photo a second thought, he sends it, and treks back to the floor.
Sitting at lunch, you practically launch like a rocket off your chair when the notification pops up on your lockscreen. It has you giggling like a schoolgirl.
Attachment: 1 Image
You waste no time navigating to your messages with Jack, laying eyes on a selfie taken from an angle you wouldn’t necessarily have chosen–but what does that matter–and practically salivating at the sight of him. Black scrubs, unidentified stains on his neck, and those delicious salt-and-pepper curls you just love to weave your fingers through.
Flipping the phone over to a table full of your closest friends, you await their oos and ahhs.
jack abbot can't stop the way his brows are furrowing. he doesn't have a wife, but he does have someone he hopes to someday make his wife.
you. the realisation dawns on him like that.
its probably something simple. you miss him or something. he's rarely on the day shift and he knows how much it disrupts your routine when he's not there.
you need to speak to your daddy, thats it.
"thanks, princess, ill go call her."
he disappears to the ambulance bay in an odd moment of serenity in the ED. his wife. thats what you've said on the phone. a secret wish that belonged to the ring stuffed in his underwear drawer that you've just exposed to the world.
jack stands out in the ambulance bay, staring at robby's stupid motorbike. he pulled his phone from his pocket and clicks on your contact.
you pick up immediately. "jack!" you shriek and he's immediately worried.
"what is it, sweetheart?"
"I can't get out of the-" you scream again. "there's a spider!"
and jack pauses. he doesn't want to laugh, but its so hard to keep a straight face. he clears his throat, as if that'll help him compose himself. "where's the spider, sweetheart?"
"it's in the doorway!" you scream again. "daddy im scared."
and he can hear the genuine fear in your voice. this isn't silly to you. its a small spider, and you're terrified.
"okay baby, listen to me," he says and sits on the wall, bracing his hand on his knee. "you know the cup our toothbrushes are in?" he asks. there's silence and jack can only assume you've nodded. "dump our toothbrushes put and put the cup over the spider."
there's a little bit of commotion, your toothbrushes hitting the counter. but then, jack hears nothing. "i can't, daddy," you say and jack thinks you’re gonna start crying again.
"you can baby. just put it down carefully and it'll keep the spider contained until I get home."
"can you come home now?"
your voice breaks and jack feels his heart breaking with it. his sweet girl, you should never feel this scared.
"soon, baby," he answers as Dana joins him, cigarette in hand. she side eyes him, but jack keeps going. "put the cup on, step over it and go hide in the bedroom."
you sniffle. "can you stay on the line while I do it?"
"of course, baby," he says and hears you exhale. "just gotta be quick, okay?"
you give a quiet okay. Jack stays on the line with you while you put the glass over the spider. he tells you he's proud of you when you cheer and step over it.
"I gotta get back to work, baby," he says. "ill be home soon. love you."
"love you," you say back and end the call.
Dana looks at him, eyebrows raised. her way of asking what that was all about.
"my wife is scared of spiders," jack says and heads back inside.
summary: almost caught having a steamy makeout session with your older not-so-boyfriend boyfriend in the middle of the emergency department by a certain pretty D.Mohan, getting ushered out of the room to deal with a violent patient. Jack thinks he’s doing what’s best for you. (2.4K) (PART 1) part 2
Characters: Jack Abbot x fem reader , x platonic! dennis Whittaker, x samira mohan ( love her, mother)
Content: 18+, established relationship, jealousy, angst, no comfort yet! this is part 1, no spoilers for s2!, mentions of wounds and medical treatment, allusions to smut! MDNI
“ L/N, I've got the patients' charts right here—" Harmless eyebag Dennis calls, one of his hands holding the large ER tablet and his other hand gripping the room's curtain tightly. His tousled, dirty brown curls kiss his eyebrows, his now raised eyebrows. “Oh! Should I come back later? -” He immediately turns around, dropping the tablet onto the floor. “ Crap! Crap! Im so sorry!” Bending his knees with his head turned down, Denniss slender hands shakily grip the edge of the black cover tablet.
Your hand twitches, holding the needle holder in one hand and tweezers in the other. “Dennis-” You hiss through gritted teeth, tightening your grip on the utensils. “ How many times have I told you not to barge in when I'm doing sutures?”
The frustration begins to vibrate through your body, feeling it in your throat and head. Not literally. Just theoretically, with the way your throat is ready to produce the vowels for the meanest words within the English language and your head's evil, evil thoughts about the poor little Nebraskan farm boy. Who is now looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.
You part your lips, ready to bark at Whittaker, when you feel a rugged, calloused hand rubbing the side of your outer thigh. From the side, completely unknown to Dennis or anyone walking by, the fully pulled curtain to one of the ER beds.
The warmth from his fingertips seeps through your black scrubs, feeling it against your skin like hundreds and hundreds of tiny needles poking at you, so tenderly and so softly. It grounds you from the outburst you were about to spew at Dennis.
He clears his throat, trying to straighten his back. Failing miserably, the open wound on his back makes him furrow his pretty eyebrows. The sound that fell from his mouth was even prettier if that was possible. A deep, guttural groan makes your eyes widen, and your legs quite the opposite.
“ Ja-” Clearing your throat, tilting your head to the side hurriedly. Ponytail swooshing in the air, brushing against his chiseled face. A breathy laugh escapes his chapped lips, a deep breathy chuckle that's sending butterflies swarming through the pit of your stomach and warmth to your face and hands.
“ Dr. Abbot, did I accidentally nudge you?” You murmur. Warm and gentle, almost melodic in a way. The kind of softness reserved for someone cherished and clement. Not for a deeply emotionally scarred man, built from restraint and trauma. Your attending. Much, much older attending.
“Don't worry about it, Dr.L/N, just keep..” He takes a deep breath in.
You watch closely, the way he draws in a deep breath, like a depraved woman. The slow drag of it. How his chest rises, pecs visible through his black scrubs. The way his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. The same bottom lip you tug and pull with your teeth during late nights in the hospital bathroom. But never at home. Home is tightly restricted to shirtless him draped over your bed like a human heated blanket, with his biceps resting underneath your head. His salt and pepper hair toussled against your pillow. Your pillow, well, it has become his. Perfectly mended to his face, the same face you spend hours and hours staring at when you shouldn't be. Like now.
“ Just keep going.” He says, with a tight-lipped smile etched into his tired face.
You mimic his behaviour, also taking a deep breath in. Annoyance fills you as you look back at Dennis. But the annoyance quickly fades away when you look at his big blue eyes; he looks like a kicked puppy. Oh god you can't be mad at him. Poor little Hucklerry.
“ Just leave them there,” You point your elbow towards the workstation that's scattered with colorful pens and a notepad.
“ Right..right..right! I-ill just leave them right-right here!” Dennis plants the tablet onto the workstation, on top of your pens. This sends the pens flying off the table, scattering to the floor.
“ Just go, Nebraska!” You say, tightening your grip on the needle holder, as you tie another knot with the surgical thread.
That earns another unfortunate, fortunate for you, groan from the grouchy older man sitting on the hospital bed with his full-back muscles presented to you like a bucket of gold coins.
Dennis does a full 180 spin, stuffing his sweaty hands into the pocket of his black scrub pants. Your eyes immediately drop down to his ankles, his bare ankles. The hem of his pants hug the top of his ankles tightly, too tightly. Like he's scrunched them up to get ahead of a flood. Stupid idiot picked up scrubs 2 times smaller than his size. That earns a warm smile from you, losing the tenseness in your shoulders and back. Now, finally relaxing.
“ You gonna finish suturing this old man or are you going to keep me waiting?” Jack murmurs, his voice soft yet roughened on the edges. Like a shot of vodka sliding down you didn't know you needed on a Friday night.
“ Drop the attitude, and I might kiss it better.” You whisper softly, your forearm resting against his buff shoulder. You can feel him flex the muscle beneath you, cushioning the hands he loves so much.
He curls the corner of his mouth, letting out a quiet, tame chuckle. “You're gonna kiss me anyway, arentcha sweetheart?” Voice husky and breathy, each word sliding across you like heat. Tilting his head to the side, against your forearm.
You purposefully yank the thread into another knot, furrowing your eyebrows with your tongue sticking out the side of your lip. Peeking through the obvious grin on your lips.
He lets out a loud yelp, nuzzling his head against your forearm like a child. That earns a loud laugh from you, and you softly nudge your elbow against his head. “ Sit up straight! Or do you want your sutures to come out wonky? You're worse than a child, Dr Abbot.”
He traces your waist with his warm hands, sending shivers down your spine. Unconsciously arching your back a bit, leaning towards his touch without even realising.
“ Come onnnnn…” he drags the word out, breath thick with cigarette smoke and a sharp tang of nicotine gum. It makes you scrunch your nose and your eyes watery. Drawing your eyebrows together while pressing your lips into a tight line.
His midnight blue eyes, as if someone had bottled the ocean's deepest trench inside them, observe your face. He studies the way you just drew your eyebrows together, and how the little wrinkles appeared on your forehead. You were upset, and it was clear it was because of him.
“ No, no, no, come on, pretty girl..” He whispers under his breath. Wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you in, against his face. He rests his face against your stomach, pressing his lips right above your bellybutton and peppering you with little wet kisses. So tender and so delicate, you could fall and swoon at his knees.
After every little kiss he leaves on you, he blows a bit of cold air. The burning tingling feeling from the nicotine mint gum he was chewing prior makes you jump. Heart racing and vision blurring with lust. You can feel the upset exterior you temporarily built, because let's be honest, it was never gonna stand with the way his hands just feel so right on your skin.
“ You told me you would quit Jack.” You mumble as you put the suturing kit down, finally finishing a task that should have taken you five minutes if it weren't for Huckleberry barging in like a toddler telling his mom he puked.
“ I know I know.. I'm so bad..I don't deserve to be kissed…I don't deserve you.” He whispers against your stomach, shaking his head as if he were the disappointed one. As if he wasnt the one who broke a promise, a sworn pinkie promise made in an alleyway of a bar right in front of the ER. A promise made almost a year ago.
Placing your gloved hands on his shoulders, you attempt to push him off, but fail miserably as you feel his strong arms engulf your sides. Eyes widening and head shooting towards the closed curtain of the hospital room, so afraid that anybody could just yank them back and catch the sight of a resident and an attending getting cozy. During their shifts.
He takes your jawline in his calloused palms. The contrast of his rough skin against the softness and delicacy of your skin sends shivers down both of your spines. Unconsciously leaning your face deeper into his palm as your eyes lovingly bore into his. It's so unbelievably intimate that you both draw in deep breaths and close your eyes.
Both of your lips meet halfway, hands coming up to thread through his dark hair flecked with grey, soft yet telling of the years he's experienced before you. His hands find their way to grip the skin on your waist tightly, as if you could slip away at any time. And you could. It's happened before, steamy makeouts in the hospital staff lounge or bathroom being forcibly interrupted by loud pagers blaring through the hot wet kisses or Robby's voice vibrating through the Pitts ' walls calling for rounds or discussions. He is trying to get as much as you as he possibly can before his fantasies are ripped away from his fingertips, not that this wasnt already a fantasy…
And, then just like clockwork, the curtain gets pulled open.
But not before Jack's military-trained eyes spot the pair of black surgical clogs against the floor, peaking beneath the orange curtain. His once soothing, sensual grip is now distant and echoing through your body like a distant call. The force with which he had pushed you off sent you stumbling back, almost slipping on the scattered pens. Courtesy of Mr Whittaker's foolishness and idiocy.
Tan's hands wrap around your waist to stabilise you. It doesn't feel the same as the hands that were gripping onto you a mere three seconds ago. Not like Jacks hands, hands that have memorised every curve, and inch of you. Their hands feel foreign and distant, like a key fitting into the wrong lock.
“You okay there Dr. L/N?” An airy, silky voice cuts through the sweaty tension in the room. You part your lips in shock and embarrassment, immediately stepping to the side and turning your head towards Dr Mohan.
Her eyebrow raised with a lopsided smile framing her soft face, shes waiting for you to respond.
“ Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I was just picking up my scattered pens.” You say, clearing your throat as you crouch down quickly and let your hands pick up the pens that have canvased the ER floor.
You were about to open your mouth to start spewing excuses for your ill ability to see patients waiting in the waiting room when you were quickly forced to shut your mouth.
“ You okay there, Dr Abbot?” Dr Mohan asks, tilting her head to the side, her beautiful dark eyes gazing at his figure. Her eyes so deep you could not tell when the pupil ended, the kind of darkness that holds warmth and a magnetic pull of something you just cannot name.
He nods his head, his hands itching to start gathering the pens with you. His fingers flex against his palm, as if it's physically hurting him to not be able to help you or hold you. His dark blue eyes gaze into hers. And just like that, you feel as though you have disappeared. In his eyes.
“ Dr L/N was just patching me up. Got hurt in combat-” She cuts him off.
“ Oh no lets take a look.” Her long, slender fingers grab the blue elastic gloves and yanks them out of the box. Her hands almost melodically slip the gloves on, like a symphony shes performed hundreds of times. And she has, but each time it just seems to mesmorise you more and more. Apparently not just you.
“ Oh, I have already looked over and suttured him, Dr Mohan-” Standing up with fifteen pens gripped tightly in your fist, with a few slipping to the floor from how quickly you were to react to her words in haste.
“Didn't Dr Whittaker need you, Dr L/N? There is no need to worry, Dr Mohan here is said to have the stealthiest hands for sutures.” Jack says, his lips pressed into a tight-lipped smile. Lips that were just connected to yours a mere five minutes ago, unforgiving and ravenous against yours. Now smiling at someone else.
Was it just you who still felt the ghost of his lips trailing along your body and lips? Or did he feel it too? Does he feel you as deeply as you feel him? What are you saying? Are you overthinking? Of course he does. Right..? No yea right.
So why is he so entranced with her? While you're stuck on the floor picking up scattered pens like a child.
You watch him lift his shirt, revealing another wound. A wound which he didn't tell you about or show you when you immediately dragged him into this room after seeing his beaten figure walk into the ER. Eyes widening and lips parting in surprise and hurt. Did he not trust you to suture well enough? Is he questioning your ability to suture as a resident?
His eyes immediately find yours after Dr Mohan's short, quiet gasp; he can see the hurt that's momentarily washed over your eyes. But he doesn't say anything, too afraid to get caught or be seen by Dr Mohan. So he just chooses to ignore you. Great choice. Not like you were flying in over your head, a million insecurities rushing through your mind. She's older, far more experienced, not only in the medical field but also socially, romantically, shes just so much cooler and funnier. And god her hair-
“ Dr L/N, are the pens covered in butter?” Dr Mohan attempts to lift the tension in the room by cracking a little joke, earning an awkward chuckle from Jack.
You lick your lips in embarrassment as you squint your eyes shut, clammy, sweaty hands grabbing the remaining pens that keep escaping your wet grip.
“ The Kraken needs a change. Would you mind, Dr L/N?” She asks as her fingers graze Jack's abdomen, where his wound lies.
“ No no no. Not at all!” You respond as you turn around and yank the curtain open, but not before looking into Jack's eyes. Eyes that are now looking at her.
Warnings: cursing, some anxiety, use of Y/N, she/her pronouns, Abbot and that damn rooftop, not really proof-read (might not make much sense, I'm tired)
A/N: it seems I am back from my little hiatus (let's see how long that lasts). I've done this before for different characters and decided I wanted to do it for the Pitt universe. Let me know your thoughts, if you guys like it, I was thinking of making some for Langdon and Park the Shark. Anyways, enjoy!
Masterlist
They're not dating but he always waits for her to arrive before starting night shift rounds.
"Are we ready?" Robby asks, rubbing his hands together (his signature move) as the day and night crew stand in a circle around him.
"Not yet." Abbot shakes his head. He doesn't elaborate, but everyone knows what he's referring to.
She's not here yet. Robby nods his head, wordlessly waiting until the woman of the hour arrives. It isn't until five minutes later that she finally rushes in.
"Sorry, I'm here!" She's breathless, clearly having rushed to the hospital in time. And yet, Abbot thought she looked as beautiful as ever. "Have you guys started?"
"Nope, courtesy of Abbot." Robby is trying to hide his amusement, thinking to himself how whipped his best friend is.
"Thanks," she whispers to Abbot, taking her usual spot next to him as she listens to Robby's debrief.
They're not dating but he's always in tune with her - her emotions, her mood, her cases, etc.
"Where's Y/N? I have a cool laceration I want her to see," Shen asks Lena, tapping his fingers on the nurse's desk.
"She's in central five," Abbot pipes up, standing five feet from Shen, eyes dissecting a file on his Ipad.
Shen smirks, knowing full well why Abbot knew the girl's exact location. "Thanks, boss," he pats Abbot on the back as he walks her way.
They're not dating but she stands next to him on the rooftop in silence as long as he needs her to.
There was a chill in the air, the sun rising to wish the citizens of Pittsburgh a good morning. Abbot stood in his usual spot on the rooftop, on the more dangerous side of the railing. He knew she didn't like it, he knew she thought it was unsafe. She didn't think he would jump or anything of the sorts, but it still scared her. He couldn't help it - standing so close to the edge grounded him (ironic, I know). It had become a sort of routine - a stressful case would come in, he would come to the roof, she would follow.
The familiar creak of the door broke him out of his train of thought. She's finally here, he thought. He listened intently as her steps moved her closer to him, as she stepped under the railing - which stressed him out because he worried for her safety - to get to him.
Each moment in the rooftop went the same. They shared little words, they didn't have to speak. She knew how he felt, how much he cared for each patient that ended up on his table. As much as she wishes it were different, she knows that there is nothing she can say to alleviate his pain. So, she stands there with him, showing him she cares and that she is there for him without having to say it. And this fact does little to lessen the massive crush he has on her.
They're not dating but she invites him to play pickleball with her on their mornings off.
"Boom!" Her yell echoes across the pickleball court. "7-4, old man," she brags after scoring yet another point on him.
He laughs, shaking his head. "I'm taking it easy on you," he quips back.
At that comment, she scoffs "yeah right," under her breath.
He can't help but smile, watching as she bends her knees to prepare for the next play. He might be hot and sweaty and disgusting, but he wouldn't trade their pickleball days for anything.
They're not dating but she's the only one who can call him 'old man.'
"Your age is showing, old man," Shen speaks, elbows deep into the chest cavity of a trauma patient.
Abbot scoffs, "Oh, I know you're not talking to me." He knows Shen means no harm, and he knows that he is in fact teetering on the edge of being geriatric, but he can't help but get annoyed at Shen for his comment.
Before he can come up with a snarky retort to Shen's dig, Y/N pipes up from the corner of the room, "hey, I'm the only one that can call him 'old man,' Shen." The edge of Abbot's lips twitch, a smirk fighting its way to his face.
"Yeah, Shen. Only she can call me 'old man'."
They're not dating but, even though she teases him mercilessly for it, she always makes sure to walk into the hospital with both her usual vanilla latte and his black coffee (I could never drink black coffee straight).
"Here ya go," a hot drink cup is placed next to where Abbot sits, charting so Gloria gets off his ass about record-keeping.
He smiles, his heart skipping a beat at the fact that his favorite resident memorized his coffee order. "Kid, I've told you to stop wasting your money on me."
She smiles shyly, eyes shifting to her feet. "I don't see it as a waste of money," is all she says before walking away, her own coffee in hand.
Yeah, safe to say Dr. Jack Abbot is whipped.
They're not dating but he always has a stock of chocolate in his locker because he knows she loves it.
Y/N stands at the nurse's station, chatting away with Lena. He could tell that her mood was dropping slightly, so he made the walk all the way to his locker to grab a Kit-Kat he gets just for her.
Her head turns when he appears in the corner of her eye, holding out the candy bar. His heart swells as her eyes light up, a beaming smile taking place on her face.
"This is why you're my favorite." She grabs the bar from his hands, fingers working to undo the wrapper until she suddenly stops and says, "thank you," in the most earnest tone he has ever heard.
"Anything for you, kid."
They're not dating, but he is the first to reassure her whenever she gets nervous or anxious.
She feels her hands begin to shake as she sutures up the bullet wound adorning the guy on the table's stomach. There was too much blood, too much liquid spilling out, too much paleness taking over the man's body.
"Hey," his voice tore through her mind, "you're doing good. Breathe." His words soothed her, grounded her. If he wasn't freaking out, then she shouldn't either. If she royally fucks it up, it's technically on him as the attending. And if he believes in her, then she will do everything in her power to deserve his praise.
After the patient is stabilized, after the nurses and the doctors clear out of the trauma room, leaving her and Abbot alone, she can't help it.
"You okay?" He asks. Her answer comes in the form of a hug. She squeezes him tight, arms wrapped around his torso as if he is her lifeline. It doesn't take more than a second before he is squeezing her back just as tight.
"Yeah," she sighs, "I'm okay now."
They're not dating but there is a betting pool on when they're going to get together.
$30 they're already secretly dating - Garcia, Whitaker, Mohan, Princess
$25 they're hooking up - Matteo, Santos, Shen
$50 they're madly in love with each other but refuse to confess - Robby, Dana, Langdon, Mel, Javadi, McKay, Perlah, Abbot
^ has nobody noticed that Abbot himself literally bet on this - Javadi
he forgot, but i didn't - jack abbott x reader, partial michael robinavitch x reader
↳ it's your birthday. michael robinavitch doesn't remember, but his counterpart does.
↳ angst, forgotten birthday, situationship robby, i'm not trying to slander robby but if the shoe fits, jack is a gentleman, fluff, comfort, i'm sorry if i went too heavy-handed with all the birthday talk, intentional skips in time, canon-typical violence and medical descriptions.
↳ 4.9k (i'm soooo sorry idk what took over me)
5:00 am
there's a loud, incessant beeping coming from your nightstand. it won't turn off, despite all of your internal wishes trying to make it to so. finally, you turn with a groan and slap your hand down on your phone, effectively ending the beeping once and for all.
you pick up your phone, rubbing your eyes with the other hand and look at the onslaught of messages that had come in over night into the morning.
mel: happy birthday y/n! would you want a croissant sandwich this morning? i'm stopping on my way to work.
dana: happy birthday, kid. see you today!
there's even a computer-generated email from the hospital wishing you a happy birthday, thanking you for the work you do in the emergency department. you lay your head back on the pillow and stare up at the ceiling. despite the messages in your phone and the cards you had received through the week, you couldn't help but fixate on the one person who hadn't reached out to you yet. robby.
it wasn't like you expected him to wait around at midnight to text you, but you thought there'd be something. sighing, you click your phone and start to get out of bed, opting to check again when you had a cup of coffee in you and a shower to wake you up.
6:00am
soon, you'd start the bus ride to the hospital, but for now, you sat on your couch, staring at your phone as you waited for a message from him. nothing was coming through, though, even though he had to be awake by now.
and robby wasn't just a friend or a coworker. you had been dating here and there, a few hookups, some passionate make out sessions, some sleepovers in each other's apartment. it was casual, sure, but serious enough to warrant some emotional investment. you thought it had been the same on his side. you thought that, maybe soon, he'd make it official. or at least put in the effort you had been.
but now, there's not even a birthday message from him. no calls, either. you stood up and tucked the phone into the pocket of your jacket and slung your bag over your shoulder. with a final glance back at your apartment, you shut the door and left, beginning the trek to the emergency department.
7:00am
there were no streamers in the break room and no confetti waiting in your locker, but some of your coworkers greeted you with open arms as you came in to the ed. dr. ellis and shen were wrapping up some of their handovers to the interns when they turned and greeted you with a happy birthday. you smiled, thanked them, and continued on to your patient briefings.
there was nothing too hard, just a burn being monitored before a bed opened up, a mild stroke patient waiting for a neurology consult, and a few triage patients sitting in beds in the hallway. mel delivered your croissant sandwich, trinity and dennis brought over a small gift of a new badge reel, and samira had went out of her way to make you a small cake to have during your lunch break. even frank had wished you a happy birthday, opting for a small card with a coffee shop gift card inside.
coasting in just a few minutes before official shift change, robby came in, a carhatt jacket adorning his scrubs and his attention directed to gloria who seemed to be waiting by the front door for him this morning.
you followed him with your eyes as he floated across the ed, shooting every single one of gloria's snide comments about the way he runs his department down. samira watched your eyes follow him around the room while you conferred on a patient together.
"has he said anything yet?" she asked, eyes down on her chart. she was one of the only few people to know, catching an intimate conversation happening in the break room.
you shook your head. "no, but it's still early in the day. he probably had a long night or something and now gloria's on his ass. i'm not stressed about it." but you were.
he should remember, right? you would've remembered. you would've made him dinner and gotten him a coffee in the morning and a gift to unwrap when you got home. he probably would've just thanked you politely and said that you shouldn't have, but you would've anyway. but maybe you and robby were just different like that. and that was okay.
8:00am
you were in the thick of it now. the first hour went as slow as it always does, but now you have two more patients, both of them geriatric, one of them unresponsive but doing well. robby's been in every patient's room at least twice, having to spend most of his shift so far with a biking accident in trauma 1 that cassie picked up.
just about every nurse and doctor you were familiar with enough for them to know what day it was had already come up to you for the day, including garcia and even a quick text from walsh. javadi had suggested that you wear a birthday pin on your scrubs, or even a crown, but that felt inappropriate in a department that loses people every shift.
besides, you had never been one of those people that really needed everyone to know it was your birthday. even in a restaurant, you keep it quiet and order a dessert. you've never cared.
for a quick moment, you stop in the break room, drinking a styrofoam cup of water and enjoying the second half of the sandwich you were unable to eat earlier. the door creaked open shortly after and dana came in, a smile on her face.
"any plans tonight?" she asked, pouring coffee into another styrofoam cup.
you shrugged. "none right now. i think i'll probably get some takeout or something. maybe watch a movie. take a bath."
"nothing with robby?" she asked, glancing out the window to the chief attending who was fielding questions from a student.
you shrugged again. "nothing right now. at least, he hasn't said anything or mentioned plans. but, i mean, it's not like he's my boyfriend. we're just seeing each other."
dana sighed and leaned against the counter. "has he even wished you happy birthday yet?" she asked, her tone slightly humorous. when you didn't respond with anything, she pulled the cup away from her mouth. "you're joking."
"no," you said. "but he's been really busy and we haven't really ran into each other much. i stopped having to present my findings to him a few months ago and we seem to bounce around each other now. but it's okay. please don't make a big deal about it. i'm sure he knows."
dana finished her cup of coffee and threw the cup away. "fine. it's your choice," she said. "but when my husband and i were still casual, he at least took me out to dinner." with that, she opened up the break room door and left, leaving you to your thoughts.
11:00am
a bad car accident made its way into the ed and you were caught up saving lives for a long time. it was multi-victim, multi-car, high-speed. everything that makes it harder for the doctors to get them to pull through. your sterile gear was completely ruined, sweat running down your back and forehead, but your patient was stable and heading to the or for more treatment.
once you were finally free from the room, you leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. to your left, frank appeared.
"hey, that was great in there," he said, bumping your arm with his. "did you say you read an article about using that spinal technique to fix his temporary paralysis?"
you nodded with a small smile. "yeah. in school, i did a lot of research on paralytics and i just happened to remember one about a doctor trying it in military accident victims. it was risky, but i knew it would work."
"that's awesome," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. the two of you glanced around the room, you deciding where to go to next, him you weren't sure why. "robby's looking at you weird over there, you know?"
you followed where his head was pointing, just to see robby look downward at the tablet in his hand. he had been back and forth between the trauma rooms, and had only caught the tail end of your risky procedure, but said nothing about it. whether that was because he trusted you, or another reason, you weren't sure.
"if he needs me, he can find me," you said, shrugging your shoulders and continuing your rounds on your patients.
12:00pm
robby did finally find you. but it wasn't to wish you a happy birthday, or to commend you for the work you did on the patient, or to even scold you for trying something so new on a residency license, but to give you an update on a patient's ct that came in while you were busy with another.
"everything looks normal," he said, handing you a tablet with a scan capture on the screen. "it's probably just a concussion, nothing else."
you nodded, taking the tablet from his hands to look over it. for a brief moment, your hands touched, but robby didn't seem to think about it too hard as he glanced around the room. "yeah, you're right," you said, handing back his tablet. "sorry for not checking on the results myself. i got caught up."
"it's okay," he said. "keep up the good work."
with that, he walked away, but didn't make it far before immediately being dragged to the left by a visit from javadi's mother.
you bit the inside of your cheek, glancing down at your sneakers on the floor. deep inside your stomach, you could feel a pit widening, but you tried not to let it consume you, opting instead to focus on dana calling out another head trauma coming in by ambulance.
you gloved up, stood by the entrance for a second before the doors slid open and the gurney was pushed in. across the hallway, you could feel robby's eyes on you. if you were to turn around and look, you'd see a squint in them, as if he was trying to figure out why something felt off. but eventually he had to walk away and you had to do a neuro exam on your patient on the bed.
2:00pm
you stared at your phone. hard.
a message had come through while you were already in the bathroom and once you sat down on the toilet, you opened it up.
jack: happy birthday, y/n. i hope it's a really special one. i'm ordering lunch for everyone to the ed for you. i have something for you if i can catch you at the end of your shift. i'm glad to know you. you're a great person.
jack abbott. that asshole. he always had a way of making things more complicated than they had to be. it wasn't like he was trying. it wasn't his fault that he was a gentleman, that he was really painfully charming, that you patched him up in a curtained off exam room while he was shirtless, that you might have kissed at a bar before you and robby started seeing each other.
most of the time, you pushed any and all thoughts of him away. it wasn't worth it to entertain when you were content with robby. jack also came with issues and he wasn't ready then for anything.
but now, you sat on the toilet, leg shaking, tears threatening to push from your eyes at his message while robby hadn't said anything all day now. you were sure, too, that word had to have gotten to him at some point. you don't work with gossips like trinity and dennis without word getting out about a birthday.
you sniffled, finished your business, and tucked your phone back into your pocket. there wasn't enough time in the shift to be thinking about stupid stuff like that. your head trauma patient had just come back from an x-ray and you had just recently taken on a sick baby.
there wasn't time to ponder jack abbott and michael robinavitch. so you pushed it aside again.
3:00pm
the food that jack had ordered for everyone arrived. and, of course, it was your favorite that you had mentioned once offhandedly, not thinking anyone would remember something so niche. but there were pans upon pans of food in the break room, the scent leaking out into the hallways.
when you arrived to the break room, trinity, dennis, mel, and cassie had already picked up a plate of the food.
"hey!" cassie said around a mouthful of a side. "did you order this for everyone?"
you shook your head and picked up a small plate. "no, uh, jack did. actually." you started building a plate, unaware to the eyes everyone was giving each other at the table behind you.
"jack? like jack abbott? the night shift attending?" trinity asked. you nodded and turned around. "hmm."
you raised an eyebrow. "why hmm? he's just nice is all. i'm sure he would've done the same for everyone's birthday," you said, sitting down at the only empty chair at their table.
"he didn't do this for shen's birthday a month ago. he didn't do this for dana's birthday in january. he didn't do it for my birthday in february," dennis pointed out.
"it doesn't mean anything," you said, stuffing your face full with food. but you felt like it did. it had to of.
4:00pm
three hours until shift change. three hours till you could go home. three hours you had till you saw jack and could thank him for the food. three hours left for robby to say happy birthday while you're on the clock.
you were able to thankfully discharge two patients, one of them heading to another hospital for a bed in their specialized pediatrics unit and one heading home with some specific care instructions. another had come in by way of waiting room, an issue that first went missed by triage and then become a big deal when they collapsed on the floor in front of everyone. it was an accidental overdose sparked by mixing some medications together, an easy fix procedure wise but one that needed some consistent monitoring. it had kept you busy for a while, but then they stabled out and opted for a nap in the dimly lit exam room while you tracked their vitals.
your feet were killing you by then and there was really no better time to chart than now, so you sat down at the center station, logging in to one of the computers to take notes on your recent care.
in your pocket, your phone buzzed again.
jack: i hope everyone enjoyed the food.
you glanced around before texting up a quick reply, thanking him endlessly and telling him everyone enjoyed it. he gave the message a like and you put your phone away again. just at that time, dennis and trinity came by and stood in front of the station where the computer was.
"dana told us you have no plans," trinity said, resting her cheek on her hand. "would you want to come out to a bar with us? dennis here will even pay for your drinks."
dennis gave trinity a side eye, but looked back at you with hopeful eyes anyway. "please?"
you gave them a polite smile and tilted your head. "thanks guys, but i'm okay. it's like a wednesday night anyway. i have another shift tomorrow and it's not like there'll be deals on any of the drinks. maybe this weekend i'll take you all up on it, though?"
the two nodded and dennis walked one way, trinity the other. at the desk across the station, robby pulled his glasses up on his head and scratched at his forehead. you glanced back, seeing him sigh before continuing to type on the computer.
at that point, you were past waiting for a word.
6:00pm
leave it to the last hour of the pitt to wholly consume you and send you on your way out with nothing short of a bang.
a drug deal gone wrong a few blocks from the hospital had five people being rushed to the ed in ambulances. you cleared space in the trauma rooms, moving the materials aside to make for two beds in each room while opening up an examination room for the less critical patient. gloved up, glasses on, and scrubs covered in the white paper, you watched as the doors slid open and gurneys carrying bleeding gunshot victims burst through them.
immediately, you sprung into action, taking the first victim with robby on the other side. you questioned the patient, examined their responsiveness, and felt for their pulse while robby carefully lifted the gauze over the wound to check the bleeding.
"he's losing a lot of blood. fast," robby called out. "we gotta hurry. get him in trauma 1." you pushed the gurney into the room, moving to the side for dennis to cut down his t-shirt, revealing the blood underneath.
"shit," you hissed out, examining the work you had before you.
"what do you see?" robby asked, pulling over a cart of surgical supplies and bandages. you called out some descriptors, moving to the right side where the opening was. "okay, what are you doing?" you answered his next question effortlessly, detailing a plan of care that involved removing the bullet, checking internal damages, and sewing him up. "no, you're missing a lot, y/n. he could have internal damages that removing the bullet affect. get it together."
you nodded tightly, breathing in and out deeply. "we have to get him scanned first, then. dennis, care to prep the ultrasound?" dennis nodded and started applying the gel to the stick, then moved the machine around the stomach carefully, showing the bullet sitting dangerously close to the patient's organs.
"see, you would've missed that and went in there blind," robby said.
"but it stopped before getting lodged in the organs. careful work and we can get the bullet out with no issues."
"do you trust yourself to do that?" robby asked.
"yes," you proclaimed. you picked up the small, long silver tweezers on the cart and started to carefully follow through procedure. you watched your work on the screen, ensuring your tools didn't near the careful tissue protecting the patient's organs. suddenly, a loud crash came from the next trauma room, sending a jolt down your spine that shook your hand.
"jesus," robby whispered loudly as the patient groaned despite the heavy painkillers flooding his system. "focus. focus. focus." and so you did. despite the shake in your hands, you gripped the bullet and began pulling it out. soon, you heard the metal clink of the bullet falling into the tray that princess was holding to your left.
"you need to be more careful," robby said, looking you directly in the eye. "crashes and loud sounds and booms shouldn't have you sending tweezers into their spleen."
"i know-"
"what would've happened if you damaged him further? you could've killed him. the malpractice suit that comes from that is something you don't want to deal with. are you going to take this more carefully next time or are you planning on fucking around more?"
you looked at him with an incredulous look on your face. "jesus, robby," you breathed out. despite your best efforts, tears blurred your vision which you quickly blinked away. robby walked away, his back opening up the door to the next trauma room while you worked on stabilizing and stitching up your current patient.
some time passed before you were done and finally, you stepped out of the room, free of your sterile gear. with quick steps, you took yourself to an open exam room on the other side of the hallway and shut the curtain behind you. you were free for a moment, before the door clicked and robby entered.
"you could've killed him and you know that," robby said harshly.
you spun around on your heels, eyes burning slightly. "i know that robby. don't you think i do? i'm not a fucking idiot. i'm a human and i made a mistake."
"mistakes cost us everything here," he said, inching closer. "one loud sound shouldn't fuck you up that much."
you ran a hand through your hair, sighing out a loud breath before turning around. "what about that patient you had last week? the one who had an entire heart attack on the floor without you catching the signs early? i knew he was showing signs of myocardial infarction, but you didn't believe me."
"you don't have to bring up my mistakes to validate yours," he said. "and that risky move you did earlier? don't ever do that again without getting approval from me first. just because you're a resident now doesn't mean my license still isn't on the line."
"since when have you ever cared about your license, robby? you let your interns do stupid procedures all the time. why am i getting chewed out? why am i getting belittled on today of all fucking days?"
"what's so special about today anyway, y/n? you've had everyone up your ass all day long, there was a whole spread in the break room, you've been getting smiles all day. jesus, did i miss something? is it mediocre resident appreciation day?"
7:00pm
that was it. the one. the big one. that one that finally made you break after fifteen minutes of being yelled at and belittled in your workplace by not just your boss, but the man you've been fucking for months.
you bit your lip, trying to keep the tears from coming out. you stormed out of the exam room, leaving him behind. in your rush out of the room, you didn't see the crowd of doctors and nurses who had been standing just a few feet away from the room, pretending to be busy but really listening on robby and your's argument.
when robby came out, he made eye contact with everyone who all seemed to have a sour look in their face. there were even some night shift people, including jack, who was also making the same face. in his hand was a delicately put together gift bag that said happy birthday on the front. he noticed then that the cards he had watched you receive were happy birthday cards. everyone talking to you had been wishing you happy birthday. the lunch in the break room. the colorful change in your undershirt.
he looked to the left to see you rush inside of the single occupancy bathroom and he watched the lock close on the outside. to his right, he looked at jack who simply turned around and took the gift bag to the locker room.
robby followed, seeking some kind of guidance or validation.
"i don't know what's happening in here today, man," he called out. jack didn't turn around and kept walking. "hey! what's going on?"
jack didn't turn around until he made it to the locker room, stuffed his belongings inside his locker, and sat the gift bag down on the bench in the middle of the room. "you're wrong for her, you know?" he said. "i don't think you deserve the energy she gives you. i mean, if it was your birthday, you would've been given breakfast. a gift. dinner, man. and you yell at her?"
robby rubbed his neck with both of his hands. "jesus. it's not like i'm perfect. i can't remember when it someone's birthday all the fucking time."
"you didn't even remember it was her birthday, man?" jack asked, looking up at robby with a serious look. robby shrugged. "jesus." jack maneuvered around robby till he was out of the locker room and heading towards the bathroom you ran into.
he knocked softly. "y/n?"
"please don't," you said on the inside, hearing someone's voice on the outside door.
"it's jack," he said, hoping that might convince you to unlock the door. he was right, smiling a little when he heard the lock click. he let himself in slowly and shut the door behind him. "hey. you okay?"
you looked up at him and nodded. "yeah, i guess," you said, returning to lean against the bathroom wall. "i don't know what happened. i guess i just thought today would go a little different."
"how did you want it to go?" he asked, leaning against the other wall of the bathroom. he was effortlessly charming the way his leg propped up against the wall and he easily sat the gift bag down on the sink next to him.
"i don't know. the same, i guess, but...i thought robby would've been more excited to celebrate with me. but he didn't even wish me a happy birthday and then yells at me like that? i don't know. maybe i'm just being too silly about it all." you leaned up and wiped the tears from your eyes.
"hey, that's not too silly," he said. he pushed himself off the wall and came over to your left. "he should've said something. he shouldn't have yelled at you like that. and he should treat you better. i guess."
"i don't know. it's casual so far and neither of us have confirmed anything, but maybe i'm just putting in more than i needed to. i need to rein myself in a little."
jack bumped his shoulder against yours. "you shouldn't have to rein yourself in, you know? you should be able to love the way you want to. you should be wished happy birthday."
"like someone ordering the entire ed food type of happy birthday?"
jack chuckled. "yeah. like that."
a moment of silence passed over the room. "so what's in the gift bag?" you asked.
"oh!" jack said. he grabbed the bag in a hurry and handed it to you. "it's nothing huge. i just wanted to get you something nice."
you took the bag from his hands and opened it carefully, holding the tissue paper in one hand. slowly, more of the gift revealed as you pulled it out. once you pulled out a long, sleek box, you sat the gift bag down. your fingers opened up the box slowly, revealing a new stethoscope on the inside. it was a new one, one that read heart rates for you and timed them so you wouldn't have to do it again. the color was perfect. and on the neck, your initials were embossed on the leather.
"oh my god. jack." you knew it was an expensive gift. you had eyed the same one for weeks when you were buying your first stethoscope, but it was far out of your price range. "this is way too much. i can't."
"no, i want you to," jack said. "you're a great doctor and you deserve great tools too." tears sprung from your eyes again, but these were more positive than the last. these had joy in them. these had the feeling of being seen. seen more than robby had for weeks.
"thank you," you said genuinely before wrapping jack in a tight hug. he accepted it warmly and wrapped you back just as tightly. his arms held you close to him, so close you could feel his heartbeat against your chest.
slowly, jack pulled back. "why don't you go on home? i'll take on your patients. and here," he paused, pulling his wallet out from his pants pocket. he slipped out some cash and put it in your hand. "buy yourself some dinner and enjoy your night, okay? get out of here. you shouldn't have been scheduled on your birthday anyway."
you smiled and accepted the gesture happily. "thank you, jack. thank you. i mean...i feel so much better. you, um...you know me well."
"maybe i can take you out to dinner this friday night if you're free? i can pick you up from your place. dress up nice. the whole thing?" he asked, rubbing his hands together nervously. smiling, you lifted up on your tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
"yes. please." he nodded and smiled at you.
"i'm gonna get out there and start shift change. i'll text you later, yeah? check in on your night?
"i'd love that," you said. you watched as he left the bathroom, leaving you in there alone, your fingers grazing the rich material of your gift.
8:00pm
on the bus ride home, hands clasping your gift bag and your bookbag sat neatly in the seat next to you, you pull your phone from your pocket and pull up robby's contact.
robby: happy birthday. i'm sorry for everything.
you: i don't think this is going to work anymore. we're just not right together. i'm sorry.
you put your phone in your pocket and smile out the window, feeling a weight lifted from your shoulders. jack would always remember, and that was a kind of freeing feeling.
