lover, you should come over (pt. 2)
in which reader finds herself being kicked out of her apartment; no back up plan, no money, no prospects, and a load of stress. enter Jack Abbot, who's only goal is making her life as soft and stress free as possible, and offers her his guest bedroom.
neither of them have any sort of ulterior hope for this living situation. not at all.
contains: no use of y/n (etc), (f)reader is a fourth year resident, Jack Abbot is !downbad but also equally !repressingallemotion because of his !deadwife and !oldmaninsecurity, reader is oblivious and constantly denying her fat crush on Jack, reader is tired and stressed and overall needs a BREAK, angst stress tension comfort loveylove etc.
Apartments dot come, Pittsburgh apartments dot org, Affordable Housing Near You dot com, and a slew of local realtor’s social media pages were open, draining the pathetic battery life that your overheating laptop was trying to function on.
You weren’t even looking at them anymore, your forehead dropped down against the kitchen table in utter defeat.
There was a piece of notebook paper, simply a sign of your naive optimism, on the table beside your laptop. At the top line, you had written the contact information of the three, yes- only three, actually realistic apartment options out of the hundreds you’d spent the better half of the day scrolling through.
Whether way too far from the hospital or, unsurprisingly, completely out of your budget, the pages and pages of listings had amounted to basically nothing. A fruitless search that had only left you even more stressed than before, and unable to stop the creeping thoughts of the one option left untouched in the corner of your mind.
No, no. There had to be a better option. There had to be.
You had one more number from your pathetic list of possibilities to call before the search was to be truly declared hopeless. Typing the number into your phone, you held it up to your ear and stood to stretch. The line rang for so long that you were convinced no one would even answer, but it suddenly cut out, replaced by a sharp voice.
“J Street Apartment Complex, how can I help you?” The man spoke loudly and robotically.
“Uh, hi. Hi! I was just calling to ask about the apartment opening you had listed? Would it be possible to come-”
“That’s no longer available.” He interrupted.
“Oh. The one that was posted three days ago?”
“That’s no longer available.” He repeated, silent again.
“Oh.” You stared at your open laptop on the table, the listing with AVAILABLE NOW written in bright green letters under it. “Do you have anything else available? Like, literally anything at all?”
“No, sorry. You can check back again in the new year, got a few leases ending around then.”
The line went dead before you could even open your mouth to reply.
Okay, so you may be officially out of options. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing even to crash on Trinity’s couch? You internally cringed at the thought of having to bear witness to whatever horrible situationship was brewing between her and Garcia outside of work, it was unbearable enough in the ED when they were pretending it wasn’t happening.
You do have another option.
Your subconscious sung in the back of your mind, and you wished it was possible to tell your own brain to shut up for once.
But… it was true. You did have one last option.
No, it was by no means a “good” idea to move in with Dr. Abbot. Yes, if you wrote out a physical pros and cons list, the cons would likely beat the pros by a mile.
But… but. But, would any of those cons truly outweigh the alternative? The alternative being having nowhere to live, and, what? No option but dropping out of your residency and moving back across the country to your mom’s house? No.
No, you simply could not let such a ridiculous set back compromise the work you’d put in, the years of dedication. You were already applying for a fellowship at the Pitt for the next year. You couldn’t just throw in the towel.
And you certainly couldn't turn down the only saving grace that had been presented to you just because… well, just because you had a completely inappropriate crush on your much older boss. Just because you would be putting yourself in an entirely awkward situation, moving into the man’s house while harboring this stupid crush like some hopeless, heart eyed girl following her crush around the playground.
Just because, for all of the reasons constantly running through your mind on why it would be an absolutely terrible idea to move in with Jack Abbot, there were hundreds more why you wanted to pack up your shitty apartment right now and show up at the man’s door.
You were lonely. Yes, you had made good friends at work, much better than you’d let yourself get your hopes up for. But still, more often than not you worked yourself down to the bone, came home to your empty apartment to sleep, and did it all over again. It was the nature of your path, the expectation of a fourth year resident and all sacrifices worth becoming a doctor, but still. Still.
You were human, and you were lonely, and you were exhausted. You missed having family or roommates to come home to at the end of the day, to complain about work outside of the actual walls of work and joke and decompress and laugh and cry with.
Also, you missed things like in house washer dryer units and a disposal that actually worked and a toilet that didn’t need to be plunged every single time it was flushed.
No, you did not expect Jack Abbot, your much older male doctor boss to sit around and eat takeout and gossip with you after a twelve hour shift. But, you liked him. Aside from liking him, you did truly like him. He was kind, encouraging, supportive. Showed up and filled the cracks Robby often missed, a soft hand on your shoulder after a particularly hard case, a good call, kid or even just a thumbs up of approval. He slipped you granola bars and coffee from the break room and always told you to get home safe if you ran into each other at shift change.
And he had literally offered for you to move into his home. Jack Abbot- veteran, widower, long time doctor, and not even technically your direct boss, had been told in passing that you were in a tight spot, and came back twelve hours later offering you a complete catch-all fix to it, you hadn’t even had to ask.
So yes, for all of the reasons that you could’ve written down on the cons side of a list, there were a few really big ones warring with them. The complete lack of any other options was only strengthening the fight.
You weren’t sure at exactly what point you pulled up the contact log on your phone, scrolling down to the number you knew for a fact you’d never exchanged a text with. After a few minutes of staring, lip pulled between your teeth as you debated, you clicked the new message button and began typing.
Hey! Sorry to text you while you’re probably sleeping. I was wondering if I could give you a call at some point, just to kind of talk about everything? No worries AT ALL if not. Just let me know :)
You realized, almost instantaneously after hitting send, that there was no way Jack Abbot had your contact saved, and no way he would have any idea who was texting him. You only had his number because all residents were given the attendings’ contact information, you’d never once actually used it. Before this thought had even formed to completion in your mind, your phone was buzzing in your palm.
The screen was black, white text scrolling across the top of it in bold letters spelling out Dr. Abbot (Work).
As was your apparent new method of making decisions, you answered it without thinking, bringing it up to your ear.
“Hello?” You asked, cringing at the sound of your voice in the silent apartment.
“Hey. Sorry, is now a good time?” Abbot replied immediately from the other end of the line, accompanied by a bit of shuffling that sounded like he was walking around.
“Oh. No. Yeah. I mean yeah, now is fine. Sorry- did I wake you up?” You added quickly, sending a panicked look at your watch, it was two in the afternoon, and you knew he had to work tonight.
“No. I was awake.” He replied, unbothered.
“Oh. Great. Okay.” You realized after a few silent moments that you hadn’t really said anything he could respond to. “Um, also- sorry, I should’ve signed my message. I had your number from when I started my residency and everything,” You were waving your free hand in the air as you spoke, as if he could see you overexplaining yourself over the phone. “But you wouldn’t have any idea who was texting you. Or, but you did I guess? Wait, this is-”
He cuts you off, thankfully, with a soft laugh. You can almost see his eyes crinkle and the shake of his head.
“I had your number saved.” Oh. Okay.
“Oh. Okay.” You hear the whisper of his laugh again, and more shuffling.
Why did he have your number saved? How did he even have your number in the first place? Not that it was particularly crazy or suspicious, it was likely easy to access you information as a resident- Dana had done it to get your phone number a few months back when you'd left your wallet at the hospital. But why? He'd never used it, you'd never spoken to him over text or call at all.
“So, what’s up?” The casual question coming from Dr. Abbot both pulled you from your thoughts and fogged your mind a bit, and you had to run a rough hand down your face before breathing and finally speaking.
“Yes. Thanks for calling me. I uh… Well.” Maybe you should’ve put a bit more thought or preparation into this before sending the text.
“I’m assuming you’ve hopefully thought more about the offer?” Something in his voice was pulling, almost tense. You dismissed it as anxiousness over you dilly dallying and not simply getting to the point of your call, but... there was definitely some underlying weight to his words as he spoke.
“Yeah.” You reply with a sigh. “Yes, uh, Dr. Abbot, if the offer is still available, I would really appreciate talking to you about it a bit more.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you were incredibly thankful not to be having this conversation in person. You wouldn't be able to deal with Abbot actually seeing you squirm under the pressure of having a simple conversation with him, you were already doing a bad enough job at the verbal part.
“That’s great. Great.” He laughs, you definitely think he sounds strange, almost nervous. “I’m actually free till I have to go in tonight. I’m assuming you’re off today?" He keeps going before you can stop where he's taking the conversation in its tracks. "We can go eat, you can ask whatever you want.”
Great. Great.
“Oh… uh, we don’t hav-”
“I can pick you up in an hour if you want.” You weren't sure if he didn’t hear the beginning of your protest or simply interrupted you. “We can even swing back by my place so you can see it.”
There’s a lilt to his voice that the dreamy, unrealistic part of your brain (likely the same idiotic portion that had chosen to reach out to Dr. Abbot in the first place) wants to identify as hope, even a bit of nervousness. This delusional haze pushes your response out before you can stop it.
"There's a really good Italian place nearby. If you... if you like that kind of thing?"
“Okay. Yeah. That’d be great.”
A few minutes of nerve wracking conversation later, you were hanging up the call and launching your phone across the living room with a loud groan, collapsing onto the couch and burying your head in your hands.
You had lost your mind, you truly must’ve lost your actual mind.
You had not only given in to the absolutely insane idea of possibly moving in to Jack Abbot’s spare bedroom, something that sounded straight out of a rom-com written in your teenage dreams, you had somehow been roped into a dinner date with him along the way? Okay, it wasn’t a dinner date, he literally hadn’t said anything close to implying it was any sort of date, but still. You were going out and getting food somewhere with Jack Abbot, just the two of you.
What should you wear? What would he wear? What was the appropriate attire for a platonic one on one dinner with one's work superior with the purpose of discussing potentially moving into his home? Jeans?
When you’d reached out, you’d just wanted to call and ask him a few things, like how much rent would be to stay at his place and if he had any pets (hopefully) and if it was walking distance to the hospital and if he was really sure he'd meant to offer the room to you or if he’d maybe slipped and smacked his head on the way into work that day. You’d certainly not expected for it to turn into dinner, in person, in less than an hour.
The incredibly dramatic and panicked reaction you were having to spending a short evening with Jack Abbot was certainly not boding well for moving into the man’s house.
Oh shit. Oh shit, shit shit.
If you couldn’t even get your nerves about being around Abbot under control for this, how could you ever expect to manage living in the same space as him 24/7? Had you completely forgotten about that night a few weeks ago when you’d been so distracted by him smiling at you that you’d walked directly into the nurses’ station? You’d knocked over Emma’s huge metal water bottle and sent it to a deafeningly clanging demise that attracted every single gaze in the ED. You hadn’t been able to even look back in the general direction of Abbot before leaving and trying to erase the interaction from your memory the entire walk home.
No, it was delusional to think that you'd be able to handle this. It was completely inappropriate, and if he ever found out that he had this affect on you, that you were so pathetically enamored by a man you hardly even truly knew... what then? He'd probably kick you out of your house and report you to Gloria for being a total creep that somehow guilt tripped your way into his home with ulterior motives.
Okay, maybe you were spiraling. That probably wouldn't actually happen, but it would be very awkward if you couldn’t get yourself together and hold a full conversation with Abbot without getting a high heart rate notification from your watch.
Your phone buzzed from across the room, and you shamefully went to retrieve it. A text from Dr. Abbot (Work).
The immediate flutter in your chest and heat in your cheeks set off deafening alarms in your mind.
Yeah. You were one hundred percent, inarguably, absolutely fucked.
a/n: thank you all so so soooo much for the likes, comments, and reblogs on part one. it is so encouraging and so so sweet to know people like reading this!!
part two a bit shorter than the first because i didn’t want to get toooo far ahead of myself and keep the excitement for the next part :) please keep letting me know your thoughts!!! <3 reef
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