ik you said you were looking for ideas: what if the f!attending!reader got too drunk at a group outing and he took her home?
party for you | dr. jack abbot
pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader
warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), descriptions of throwing up, references to sex and gets steamy but nothing explicit, sweet sweet fluff <3
word count: 2.6k
summary: you party a little too hard and jack takes care of you in his perfect way.
notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with any of my work or this fic. thank you for this lovely request!!!! idk if i like how this one turned out but i hope that you do! oh to be taken care of by jack when i'm too drunk! this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!
“hey, brother.”
“hey man.” jack keeps one steady hand on the wheel, the other holds the phone to his ear. when he felt the vibration from his pocket, there was that sudden, jolting feeling. was it you? were you okay? did you just want to say hi? did you miss him, the way he missed you? but then robby flashes across his screen, adorned with a stupid picture of him from a thanksgiving potluck a few years back.
( when he thinks about that thanksgiving potluck now, in retrospect, the detail that stands out to him is that he actually sat next to you. when dana, half drunk and wild with her wine glass in the air, asked everyone to share what they were grateful for, jack had nudged you and muttered, “just say your family. it makes her weepy, every time.”
you had covered your mouth to stifle your laughter. he felt entirely satisfied with himself. one little moment out of several across the years where the lines were clearly drawn: attending, resident. teacher, student. off limits. )
jack makes a shoddy attempt at shaking the thought of you away to focus on whatever it is robby needs to share– unlikely to keep him as rapt, but worthy of his time and attention, presumably.
“you getting close to town?”
“uh– ‘bout five minutes out. what’s up?” the rumble of the party is heard, but robby doesn’t say anything. jack asks robby if you’re alright. more quiet.
when you asked jack last weekend if he was planning on going to princess’s halloween party, with that goddamn glint of hope in your eye, it had taken all of the self control in the world to say, “i volunteer with the VA for a camping trip every halloween weekend. i won’t be back until late the night of the party.”
you had deflated slightly, but mustered up enough mischief to say, “what, you don’t want to go as jim and pam from the office, in true 'we just started dating' fashion? rude.”
he had hung his head, put his hands on your thighs and looked up at you with what he could only assume was a pathetic, pitiful expression. to be fair, you made him reasonably pathetic, and certainly pitiful. the fact that every man wasn’t unreasonably infatuated with you was a wonder to him.
“i’m sure i can get someone to cover for me–”
“no,” you had said with a shake of your head. your hands went to cradle his face, your thumb brushing the place where a dimple develops when you really get him smiling, or laughing. “don’t do that. they’re planning on having you. i shouldn’t be selfish.”
but what if he wanted to be selfish? it’s already been a significant struggle to not want to follow you everywhere. he would go with you into his worst nightmare if you asked. he’d do another tour if it meant that you were smiling at him, just like you were in that moment. the hold that you have on him is not lost on him in the slightest, and he wouldn't change it, even if he wanted to. devotion feels good. it feels right.
but, with coaxing from you, he had gone on the trip, and you still went to princess’s party. when he got cell service back during the four hour drive, he immediately called you, if only to hear your voice. you sounded excited, but he could hear the dip in it when you said wish you were here. then you sent a picture of that goddamn tomb raider costume…
which was why, despite his exhaustion, despite the fact that he probably stinks like a campfire, despite the way that his leg burns… he has princess’s address in his gps.
“is she alright?” jack repeats himself.
“she’s fine. she’s fine. she’s just had a lot to drink, is all. dana’s in the bathroom with her now, but i think she’s about ready to, uh, go. i was just wanting to see if you were close, or if we should get mateo to–”
“don’t put her in a goddamn car with mateo, or anyone else. i’m down the fucking road. are you keeping her hydrated?”
“yes, and–”
“what about some carbs? get her a piece of toast. she’ll ask for it with honey, but best to keep it plain. and maybe some ice on her wrists to cool her body temperature. she’s prone to overheating.”
“jack,” robby cuts through. “we know. we got her. i’ll see you soon, brother.”
–
the thing that people don’t tell you about alcohol? it’s fun when it’s fun. it’s horrible when it’s horrible. well, they do tell you that. you've seen enough alcohol poisoning cases come through the emergency department to know just how easy it is to topple over the edge without even realizing it. but, treating it is one thing. experiencing it is another.
and there might not be anything more hellish than getting nearly blacked out, surrounded by health care professionals.
everything had been great. you were drinking a little more than normal, but, hey– it was halloween! and you had two days off in a row! that felt like something to be celebrated. and, yeah, maybe the fact that you drank two of those nearly neon blue buzzballs was a bad idea. maybe that last shot with princess was also a bad idea. but you had been feeling good. better than good.
you had never been much of a drinker, or a partier, but not because you didn’t want to be. sometimes, you just didn’t know how to be. at a certain point, you had accepted that you were a little bit of a recluse in college… and med school… and, now, through your residency, too. you liked working and researching and if you weren’t doing either of those things, you preferred to smoke some weed to relax and watch below deck, or a real housewives franchise.
the only time that you didn’t feel like a loser was when you were in jack’s living room watching something inane, like one of those live police shows, or ancient aliens, because if you get jack high enough, he’ll want to watch it for hours. in those moments, the only label that felt sufficient was his.
you are typically wise enough to know what your limits are around drinking– you are a doctor, after all. but you were feeling a little moody since jack wasn’t there, and the alcohol wasn’t doing anything to help that, and then, you made the uniquely horrible decision to hit the joint that was being passed around the backyard. you told yourself it would calm your nerves. the only thing it did was kick off the world spinning for the better part of an hour.
which is how you’re now, here. back against the wall of princess’s bathroom, your head between your knees, with dana and samira crouched beside you, each trying to heal you– as is their nature.
“baby, you need to look up, and just stare at that shampoo bottle. keep staring at it and don’t stop. that’s my trick for the spins.” dana’s voice sounds warbled, far away. you force your head up and stare at the shampoo bottle in question. “good, good. keep doing that.”
robby comes to the doorway with his phone in his hand, and a fresh glass of water in the other. you don’t quite pick up everything that he says, but you hear jack and soon and it’s enough for your incoherent brain to string together the rest. “jack is here?” you ask, and damn that hope in your voice, damn it to hell. you’ve been publicly dating for less than six months and you’re already being embarrassingly, publicly in love.
“yeah, he’s almost here.”
you smile. laugh a little to yourself. dana and samira share a look and they can’t help the laughter, too. you’re about to say something else when robby is maneuvered to the side, and jack stands in the doorframe. everything is still spinning, but you try dana’s trick, making jack into your shampoo bottle, using the image of him to ground yourself. “hey,” you say, head falling back and thunking against the wall. he’s at your side immediately, using a hand to cradle the back of your head, push strands away from your eyes. “i think i partied a little too hard.”
“yeah, i think so too, kid.” he gives robby an intense look and a nod of his head and everyone clears out from the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. he finds your eyes, so bleary and tired and unfocused. you give him a half hearted pout that turns into a smile. “want me to get you home?”
“yes, please,” you let him hold your head up, hand sliding from the back of it to your cheek. you turn your mouth to press a kiss into his palm, open-mouthed, wanting, despite everything. “i’m so embarrassed.”
“what?” jack scrunches his face up. “you have nothing to be embarrassed over.”
“i do,” you say through a hiccup, your hands reaching to grab at jack’s forearms– you love his arms, love how strong they look, love how they hold you. “i started blabbing about how much i love you to robby. and i’m not embarrassed that i love you– i’m embarrassed because i’m supposed to be a professional, and you’re my attending, and–” you cut yourself off because he’s smiling at you, wide. “why are you looking at me like that?”
“because you’re one of a kind, kid.” he presses a kiss into your forehead. “c’mon, let’s–”
the sentence dies because you dive forward, scrambling to get the toilet seat up before you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. “shit.” you hear him grunt, but it’s faint over the sound of you coughing, resting your forehead against the edge. you take in a shaky breath as you feel jack’s hands pulls the strands of your hair that have escaped the lara croft-esque braid you put your hair into. “let it out. you’re good, i’ve got you. you’ll feel better.”
you throw up another two times before your stomach finally relents and gives up the good fight. your limbs are shaky, and jack’s hand rubs a gentle pattern into your spine. you faintly, far away, hear the door open just a crack. jack murmurs something to who you can only presume is robby, because he returns with a fresh glass of water, a sleeve of saltine crackers, and a stick of gum. you're just glad they're not taking you to the emergency room for a bag of fluids. you wouldn't put it past them.
jack settles behind you with a groan, knees creaking. you look at him from over your shoulder and ask, despite everything, “how was the camping trip?”
he smirks, the amusement at your question evident on his face. “good. really good.” he adjusts the tank top that you wear, where it’s ridden up, smoothing it against your waist. “how are you feeling?”
“much better,” you say with a nod of your head as a punctuation. “it was the joint i smoked that really did me dirty. and the fact that i ate, like, ten hush puppies.”
“i believe it.” he looks lost in thought for a moment, before he adds, “i’m sorry i wasn’t here.”
“it’s not your job to babysit me,” you muse, shaky hand taking the water from him. he shakes his head and puts it to your lips, helps tip your head back, takes proper care of you. “and you deserve to do things on your own. we both have to do that if we want this to work.” the alcohol still has you loose, because you continue, “i like being my own person. doing my own things. but…” you shrug a shoulder. “i really like being me with you. i did wish you were here tonight. i missed you. i kept looking over my shoulder like you'd just... be there.”
“i wished i was too. i missed you,” jack sets the glass down and hands you a saltine cracker instead. his eyes trail you, up and down. “i didn’t get a chance to say it yet, but you look sexy.”
“i just threw up enough alcohol to get an entire sorority drunk.”
“still sexy.” his hand lands on your thigh and squeezes one time before he lets go. “you wanna get out of here? or want to hang for a little?”
“i’m ready to go.” jack helps you to your feet and rubs at your shoulders while you take handfuls of water from the sink, swishing it about in your mouth. jack unwraps the stick of gum and turns you, tapping it against your chin once. you open your mouth for him and he places it on your tongue with a heady gaze. you blow a bubble at him, listen to the pop fill the air around you.
when his eyes flick down to your mouth, you put a hand on his chest. “you can’t wait to kiss me until i’ve brushed my teeth?”
“i don’t care.” his hands are getting greedy, going to your waist, squeezing like he just needs to feel you, needs to feel that you’re real and right in front of him. “please.”
before, you never would’ve pinned jack abbot as a clingy man. now, it makes perfect sense to you. you only need to be apart for a few hours before he’s looking at the little picture of you that he has in his wallet. you could only imagine him these last three days: huddled around a campfire, mind drifting to you. the thought makes you feel a satisfaction you've never known before.
you don’t know if you’ve ever been loved as completely as jack loves you. it’s not just one way that he’s good: it’s all of the ways. he’s not perfect, and you don’t expect him to be– sometimes, he can close himself off. he can snap at you when he’s irritable. but he’s good. a good man.
how can you deny jack what he’s asking for? especially when he asks so nicely. you give a slight nod of your head and that’s enough for him. he pulls you in close, by the back of your neck, his favorite point of your body: and he presses his lips against yours and kisses you so thoroughly that you feel breathless.
you feel a little bit like a college kid, making out in a bathroom while loud music plays behind you. but you wouldn’t change a thing: you love sex with jack, you love that he makes it good, tender, hot, passionate. but you love this, too: the neediness that can exist without ever taking an article of clothing off, arching your back so that your breasts press against his chest, hearing the catch of his breath when you do. you love to rake your fingers through his hair because you know that it drives him crazy, and you like seeing the goosebumps that you get in return.
jack nips your lower lip with his teeth and it makes you gasp into his mouth, and his hand squeezes against the back of your neck. he chuckles into you. “i love when you do that,” he breathes. “when you make that sound.”
it’s your turn to cling to the back of jack’s neck and press your fingers into it. “are you going to take me home or not?”
jack wears his smirk like a badge of honor. and then, so seamlessly, he blows a bubble with the gum that at some point went from your mouth to his.
“that is disgusting,” you say, but your face deceives you: your slack-jawed, twinkly eyes expression says everything that words can’t. “foul.”
“sorry,” jack says and comes in for one more hot kiss, using his tongue to press the gum back into your mouth. “didn’t mean to take that.”
