Dr. Robby & Dr. Abbot: The hottest doctors in the Pitt 🩺
@the-pitt-dr-abbot
27f drooling over these hot docs like it's my job
& I'd love to play doctor & patient with either one of them (especially Jack Abbot). This blog has reblogs/ sprinklings of Shawn's hot roles as Jack/ Charlie/ Brett/ etc.
Synopsis: Jack Abbot is your dad’s best friend when you finally meet him at his birthday party it seems that sparks fly between the two of you with just one little snag…it seems like he’s married by that wedding ring he wears everywhere. Despite this you can’t help but love how his gaze clings onto you when you enter a room and how his voice flirts with every chance he gets. Oh and how wrong you were about him being married.
6.3k—DBF!Jackabbot
DBF controversy disclaimer—reader is around 30 if the age gap makes you uncomfortable don’t read it! Thanks.
Cw: 18+ only!, smut, DNI, p in v, oral sex f!receiver, DBF, age gap, older man/younger woman, teasing, praise, nicknames, kitchen sex, slight fluff, first person pov.
My father and I didn't always have the best relationship. He was an Army brat, through and through so naturally we never stayed in one place too long and because of it I was always the new kid. Bouncing around from town to town, never having a single friend around for longer than a year.
I knew it was hard on him too so I tried not to complain the best I could I knew he worked hard for the both of us as my mother had passed away shortly after I was born, leaving him a single teen dad. He did his best but nothing ever seemed to mend our relationship so when I could I got out.
When he finally retired, things started to change for us. We worked hard to fix our broken relationship and alas we had become closer than ever. We were practically best friends but I could always sense he was kind of lonely until he finally met Jack.
Don't get me wrong I loved having my dad around all the time but I was glad he finally made a friend his own age in Pittsburgh. They became practically like brothers in how close they'd gotten so quickly. I hadn't met him in the first year they met but he was all my dad ever seemed to want to ramble about and I couldn't help but also like him myself.
Some might have called them brothers in arms with how they both ended up serving together without knowing it years ago. Jack had been the combat medic who saved my dads life when a piece of shrapnel came flying at him. And by the grace of god they ended up reuniting at a convention for war vets when my dad recognized him.
They truly were inseparable, through the photos that my dad had sent over text I could tell that Jack Abbot was the real deal. A war-torn, hard working man who looks fabulous for his age by the way with a luxurious head of greys and gorgeous eyes.
I even blushed a little just at seeing some of the pictures dad had sent but brushed it off carelessly as a silly infatuation on someone who I could obviously never truly attain.
I was finally able to fly back to Pittsburgh from Washington after getting a week off from my residency there to visit my dad for his birthday.
He had been going on and on about how I had to meet Jack and oh my god Jack did this and who knows. But I was excited to finally meet the man who took over my dad's entire life.
I arrived to the small house my dad had bought a few years ago. It looked exactly the same as it did the last time I visited him, warm, cozy and inviting. It was becoming a real home after years of bouncing around from place to place as he started to fill it with more memories on the walls and new decor.
Dad had insisted on picking me up at the airport and helped me set my bags in my room letting me know what time the party would be and leaving me to get settled.
I walked around "my" room. I gently touched the pictures he'd placed for me and I looked back at them thinking of how many years I spent being mad at him. It made my heart ache just thinking about how angry I was over something he never could fully control.
I wanted to make the best of it now that I had him again. He was so excited to have me here and honestly I was too.
The time eventually arrives for the party to start and I slip on a black dress and go downstairs to await for the people to arrive. I had helped decorate a bit but my dad didn't want anything remotely fancy but it was all so…him.
I carry around a glass of wine as I mingle around the party to the few people who came since my father is certainly a more reserved person only a few were invited to begin with.
Eventually, I look over to my father hugging someone at the door and notice a familiar grey head of hair I'd seen before but only in pictures.
He was much larger in person than I imagined and he carried a box in his hands wrapped incredibly neat in a way I wouldn't expect from a man.
I drink down the rest of my wine with a hard gulp and set the glass down.
I fixed my dress a bit and walked up to my dad placing a hand on his shoulder as I came up behind him.
"Hey! Kiddo, I was just about to go lookin' for you. I want you to meet Jack." He said pointing towards the man in front of us. "Jack, I want you to meet my daughter, Y/N."
"Ah, so you're the famous daughter he talks my ear off about nearly every day. It's nice to meet you," he said with a playful laugh that filled the room and small shove at my dad.
"I should be saying that about you, nearly all he talks about is how great you are," I said with a smile.
His face seemed like it was taking every inch of my being in as he stared at me with wide eyes.
"You know Jack here is the night attending physician over at The Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center," he said to me before turning to him and speaking again, "Y/N here just finished med school and started her residency over in Washington maybe you could convince her to move over here for me," he said with a wink and a smile.
I simply roll my eyes and give him a soft smile, "Very funny dad you know I love the pacific north west. I would never dream of leaving, if anything it should be you coming over and moving with me."
"Ugh but you know I hate knowing that my only daughter is out there all alone," he said wrapping his arm around me into a small hug.
"Dad, I’m literally 30 years old I’m by no means a baby."
"I know, I know. It would just be nice having you close by," he finally said relenting the subject and moving on as one of his friends comes by and taps him on the shoulder about something and he excuses himself from the conversation telling us to keep it friendly before leaving.
"So how much does he really talk about me…?" I asked Jack.
"Well I think we ought to get a drink if we're gonna talk about your father tonight."
I give him a small laugh and we walk over to the drinks in the kitchen to where we both grab drinks and head to the couch after I tell him where to set down his gift for my dad.
I sit down and he does too but on the opposite side of the L shaped couch so we kind of face each other.
"So what's it like living in Washington, it must be nice."
"Oh my god it's so much better than you could ever imagine. A million pictures could never ever do it justice. Have you ever been?"
"Only once, I was sent there for a few days as I waited to be sent back into the battlefield when I was stationed over in Korea. It truly was beautiful, I've wanted to go back ever since but I guess time flew away from me."
"Well if you ever need someone to show you around, I’m your girl that's for sure. Maybe you could come visit with my dad some time?"
"I might have to take you up on that offer…," his words linger on his tongue as he speaks and takes a sip of his beer.
His eyes stare over my body as if trying to record every bit to memory. There's something flirty about the way he leans into me as I talk about meaningless things and it drives me insane how attentive he is.
It doesn't help that he's incredibly handsome and has this sweet voice that lures me in like a fish caught on a hot summer morning.
"Have you ever ventured towards the border?" He asked.
"Um no not yet, but I want to that's definitely on my list of things to do it's just been kinda hard right now starting my residency and all."
"Ah, yes psychiatry right?"
"God what hasn't my father told you about me?"
"Just about everything, except maybe what your dating life looks like or what you eat for dinner every night."
The way he brings up dating makes me take a deep breath. There wasn't anything subtle about the way his eyes dipped into the curves of my breasts or lingered around my hips and waist.
"Well, there's definitely not much to say there," I said.
He could sense the awkward shift in how I responded and simply moved on to asking about how med school was for me. He laughed and reminisced about how things have certainly changed since then.
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" I asked him after he brought up having many embarrassing fails in school.
"Oh god um, I guess I accidentally called a ball valve obstruction a ball "gag" obstruction. Safe to say that everyone in the room was in fact "gagged"."
"Oh my god you did not," I said practically spitting out my drink from how off guard that caught me. I laughed and laughed as he simply stared over at me with those mesmerizing eyes.
"You have…the prettiest laugh. I’m glad I got to hear it."
My face goes completely red, and it was definitely not from the alcohol. Flustered I barely know what to respond.
I shake it off by telling him an embarrassing story about my dad that makes him laugh in return. When he laughs his eyes crinkle in a way that shows off his age perfectly and yet there's something so youthful about it all.
We talk until eventually our drinks run out and Jack grabs another one. I can definitely feel the liquor running through me as I start to wonder more and more about if his remarks are flirty or just him being friendly.
Before either of us realize everyone is getting up to leave and I finally muster up the courage to ask if he's single as he goes to give me a goodbye hug. When I finally notice the band of gold he wears on his hand.
Fuck. He was married. I’m so fucking stupid for believing this incredibly attractive older man was into me his best friends younger daughter.
Nothing about the way he hugs me signals that he's a married man. His hands cling around my waist and search all the way down to just above my ass. The way he pulls me in so closely I can feel his heart beating against mine with that intoxicating smell of his clean, woodsy cologne. Every scent is so subtle that it blends together perfectly as he holds onto me for way longer than he should.
I looked at him as he finally pulled away, my eyes wide and a little sad. I wanted to say something but remember he's married. So I just said my goodbyes.
I walked up the stairs dragging my feet aimlessly as I began thinking about our interactions that night. Did I imagine it? Every subtle touch, every glance, every subtly flirty comment or word? Was it just all a game in my head that I had created somehow. Now all that I could see in my head was his ring as he did anything.
How could he possibly like me when he's married? But regardless why would he act the way he did tonight? I might be dense but I'm not that dense that I can't pick up on a subtly flirty vibe going on. But he was married for gods sake! So I let it go, or at least I try to convince myself I let it go as the week passes by and I’m back in Washington.
Since I had moved away from my dad I really only spent three weeks out of the year with him, his birthday, memorial and the Fourth of July. Occasionally dipping for thanksgiving or Christmas if I could get the day off but it was kinda rare to now that I wasn't in school anymore.
The next time I saw Jack it wasn't any sort of special occasion though, I had just decided to visit a few months later.
He came over to help dad fix something around the house while my dad was out but for some reason he found himself in my room just talking up a conversation with me.
"Your dad told me about that boyfriend of yours, how's that goin'?" He asked in a tone trying to make it seem like it was casual and normal conversation but something about it seemed to irritate him to even ask.
"Oh um Carter? He's fine..?" I replied almost confused that he would ask.
"From what your dad's told me he doesn't really seem like a great guy...,"
"And that's any of your business…why?"
"Just lookin' out for you is all," he said in a not so convincing tone.
He doesn't say anything else but the way he looks over at me tells me everything I need to know.
His words linger in me as I leave only to see him the next time I visit and he throws some more shady remarks about how I could do better than some bum like him. And every time I see him it's the same flirty remarks and looks with that soft subtle smile of his as he looks over at me.
It drives me insane. How his eyes seem to crave mine every chance they get as they look up and down my body pulling me in every time.
One time even going as far as cornering me on the way to the bathroom upstairs. I can't help but remember the way his body pressed up against mine with the smell of bourbon lingering on his clothes.
He simply looked at me and didn't utter a single world other than "can we just stay like this for a second," as he closed his eyes and held his face onto my chest. Obviously, he had a little too much to drink that night.
But god it was so infuriating every single time he did something, anything. Why on god's green earth would a married man ever act such a way?!
It has been three years since I'd met him and I was flying over to Pittsburgh yet again for my father's annual Memorial Day party. He threw it to honor him and his buddies especially the ones who passed in combat and he had all their family and friends over.
While my father may have hated big parties, he did go all out for Memorial Day. It wasn't something I could easily miss without getting an earful from him about it for weeks considering how he hated hosting alone.
I flew in the day before memorial so I could be there the whole day and my nerves were on high gear as my mind raced thinking about what could possibly happen this time when I saw Jack again. His subtly flirty antics always made me nervous no matter how often he did them.
I had finally decided to confront him about why he was that way when he was clearly married. Maybe I'd finally meet his wife too.
He'd never once so much as mentioned her but she had to exist somewhere as I had never ever seen him without that band on his finger.
This time I would finally have some answers.
I arrived to an empty house as my dad was out on his latest adventure trying a new hobby, I could never keep track anymore, and I simply go to my room. I sink down into my bed and nap, a bit jet-lagged as usual and sleep into the next day.
The next day arrives with a knock at my door from dad waking me up for breakfast way too early. But I go anyways because he promised something about pancakes.
My mind couldn't sit still all day at the thought of seeing Jack tonight. He was finally able to come to the party compared to previous years when he had to work a shift at the hospital or worked the day prior and didn't want to be a "wet towel", on the evening, as he would say, so he simply stayed away.
When the time finally came I went upstairs and threw on a camo bikini top with low rise jean shorts so that the strings of my bottom peaked out from the sides.
The party started and I walked around greeting people until finally that familiar presence walked into the room. He had that gorgeous smile on his face that he only ever had when he locked eyes with me from across the room. God it was annoying how beautiful he was.
And yet he still had that gold band on his finger. I stared at it so many times before I swore that it was starting to burn a hole into my skull. I looked behind him waiting to see if anyone accompanied him but no one ever did.
I waited to see if that mysterious wife of his would ever show but she just didn't. I still planned on confronting him later when there was far less people around and maybe tease him a little. I mean, I didn't wear this bikini for nothing right?
I decided not to approach him just yet instead I decided I needed some liquid courage and picked up a drink. But despite not saying a word I could see the way his eyes desperately dragged all across my body like he needed it. And selfishly I loved every moment of it. This was exactly what I wanted. To drive him crazy the same way he drove me insane just by looking over at me.
At some point a friend of my dad's an older woman with reddish hair comes up to me to make friendly conversation.
"Oh, my goddess. I nearly forgot to ask! How is that little boyfriend of yours?"
"Oh um, actually we broke up," as I spoke I could see Jack out of the corner of my eye. He was close enough that he could surely hear our entire conversation as he locked eyes with me the moment I said that.
And every time we locked eyes from then on he had this smirk on his face like he knew exactly what I was thinking cause oh he was thinking it too. And he knew I loved sinking into that sweet gaze of his.
Eventually our conversation lulls away into a blur as she gives me some sympathy condolences but I didn't really care for that guy anyways he was…just alright. Nothing ever seemed to get my mind off of Jack Abbot.
I went out to lay by the pool and watch the kids run through the sprinklers until the sun started to set and most everyone went outside to let the kids set off some sparklers and small fireworks. Nothing big, just something nice to look at when it got dark out and to keep us entertained for a bit.
I sneak off back inside to grab a drink from the kitchen. As I open the fridge I hear the screen door open and shut and I look behind the fridge door and just my luck it's Jack.
He doesn't say anything, just simply stands behind me leaning against the counter with his back and a beer he's nursing in his right hand. I can feel his eyes on the back of my head as he just stares down my exposed skin.
I don't say anything as I looked back and Jack could sense something was off about my gaze at just the slight look.
He always seemed to know what I was thinking before I thought it. I kept scanning across the limited drink options that were staring back at me in the fridge as I pretended to ponder.
I could feel his presence moving closer to me as a steady hand finds my waist from behind along with a voice in my ear.
"What's bothering you, sweetheart?" He asked muttering the sweet nickname in my ear that sends a shiver down my spine as he says it.
I swallowed hard and simply turn around, all things considered was not the best idea. As now I'm met face to face with my body pressed up against him.
I freeze in place, too awkward to make the first move until I finally come to my senses and push him away a bit. My face was entirely too red as I looked at him with wide eyes full of frustration. I'd been crushing on him for far too long and he was married. We stood there for a seconds before I blurted out the question I've had on my mind all day long:
"God you are so frustrating! Why do you keep acting like this when you're obviously married. Not that you've ever brought your wife around but I mean she clearly exists."
Oh I was so fucked. There was no going back now.
"What? Wife? What wife?" He said just as confused as I was until I finally point at the gold band on his finger, that was burned into my memory from countless times I'd glanced over at it when he did something that surely couldn't be only a friendly gesture.
His eyes follow the path of my finger until he looks down at his hand and just laughs. The asshole actually just laughs in my face!
"I’m sorry? Am I missing the joke? Or?"
He just keeps laughing possibly a little too much before I just roll my eyes in complete confusion and start walking away.
"Wait, I’m sorry," he said as he reached over grabbing my arm to keep me in the room.
He giggles again not able to contain it and I just ask him again "What is so funny?"
"Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I'm not married."
I merely stand in front of him at a loss for words. All my brain can think to do is blink in this moment as my face conveys a very visible look of confusion at what he just said.
"I mean I was, a while ago, she passed away though. I still wear the ring as a way to remember how she made me who I am today. If I’m being honest though, I've had my eye on someone for a couple years now. I thought she didn't like me back, but I suppose it makes sense why she was refraining from starting anything if she thought I had a whole wife back home," he ends with a chuckle, his ears and cheeks being dusted a light shade of pink.
“Oh….”
I take a minute to truly think about everything he’s said, I feel terrible about him losing his wife and having even brought it up, god I was an idiot sometimes.
Wait. He said he was interested in someone? And it finally clicks.
“Oh.”
"Oh?" He responds.
"Geez now I feel like an idiot for saying that. I am so—" is all I was able to get out before I felt his hand wrap around my waist pulling me in.
All my thoughts faded away into the distance and before I could ever realize what was happening my body was moving faster than my brain ever could as all my worries flooded away and I smashed my lips into his.
Caught off guard only for a second he reciprocated the kiss almost immediately sinking into it like he was starving.
I hoped and prayed that this kiss conveyed everything my words couldn’t and before either of us were able to back out, Jack started kissing me back more, harder. Until both of us pulled back slightly and simply looked at each other, both a bit out of breath and smiling softly.
He looked over at me with beautiful swollen, damp lips and pinks cheeks. It was insane how handsome he looked just standing before me. It was obvious he was having similar thoughts to mine as his eyes roamed all over me.
He placed his hand on my face as he kissed me again, this time deeper, slower, and more passionate. His other hand still carefully around my waist as he started to press his body against mine moving me back against the counter tops.
He doesn't break the kiss as he grabs onto my waist and hoists up onto the cold granite countertop. He lifts me up effortlessly while spreading open my thighs to make space for himself between them as he kisses me. He trails a few kisses down my neck leaving me to whimper a bit at the feeling of his warm lips on my skin.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this, you drive me insane," he said.
He gives me a look asking for permission to go further down and I nod. As he gives me another kiss on the lips as seal of understanding.
"We only have a few minutes before they come in from outside, oh this will be fun," he said with a smirk.
"So shut up and do it already before someone comes in."
He slaps my thigh with the flat of his hand making a light smack.
"Don't be impatient sweetheart. I'll take my time if I want to," he said with a slightly cocky smirk on his face.
"Please Jack. Just focus on the woman who has her legs around you right now."
"Mm, that I will do," he said with a smile as he slid his hand up my thigh and caressed it while giving me another kiss on the lips. I could feel his smile as he did and I couldn't help but gasp a bit into his mouth at the feeling of his hands teasing at my thighs.
"Jack…please don't be a tease," I let out as he let go of the kiss with a slight quiver in my voice at the now empty feeling of his lips leaving mine.
"Don't you worry, I promise I'll take real good care of you tonight."
He moves down onto his knees and starts kissing my thighs while gripping them from outside. I look down at him as he maintains eye contact.
"Beg a little for me baby."
"Jack I want you so bad. Please. Just rip all of it off."
"Well since you did ask so nicely. Let me show you how a real man gets the job done."
He gets up taking off his jacket and picks me up to settle the jacket under me so I’m no longer just on the hard countertop.
He gets back onto the floor and takes his sweet damn time removing my pants along with my swim bottoms. Once they're finally all on the ground he uses his head to part my thighs a little more to make room.
He goes slowly as he plants kisses on my inner thighs moving closer and closer to my already sensitive clit.
I can feel my breathing get harder as I move my hand onto his hair needing to cling onto something.
"Fuck baby, you're so wet. You're really trying to kill this old man."
His warm mouth finally finds my clit placing a soft, small kiss on it. He lays his tongue flat against my pussy as he licks from the bottom to the very top.
He moans carelessly against my pussy sending a vibration all the way to my clit as his nose presses up against it. His tongue teases at my entrance already as if ready to swallow him whole.
I try my best to swallow back my moans as I hold onto his thick hair with both hands now. I watch as the beautiful man between my legs now stares up at me with his needy blue eyes as his mouth is directly over my clit lightly sucking on it.
I feel two of his fingers reach up to tease my wet entrance as he swirls his fingers around it. He only pushes them in as much it allows slowly getting sucked in by how wet I am.
"Fuckk—" Is all I managed to let out as his fingers finally sink into me.
"God, you look so gorgeous for me honey, all wet and needy while my fingers tease you from inside."
As he says that his fingers find my g-spot and all I can do is gasp as the air leaves my lungs a bit. He still uses his tongue on my clit now sucking a little harder as his fingers find my soft spot over and over.
My hands find solace in his hair to stabilize myself on the counter as I try to inch my hips against him wanting more. My moans get harder to control as I bite my lips in an attempt to silence them but it does nothing.
He moans against my clit and it feels so damn good. His fingers are using their surgical precision to curve inside me just right. I’m not gonna last much longer and oh he knows that.
"Jack—fuck…I’m gonna…oh my god," I said as he started move more intensely.
"It's okay sweet girl. I know just cum for me it's okay. Cum on my fingers, baby."
His words only make the feeling in my stomach grow tighter as I finally let go and my thighs begin to shake around him.
The orgasm washes over me like a huge wave. At the same time I can hear the fireworks outside and it brings me back into the moment as Jack rides me through the moment leaving soft kisses on my clit and takes his fingers out painfully slow after noticing it's becoming too much for me to handle.
He slowly gets up off the ground with a wince of pain as he touches his right leg. It must be his prosthetic giving him some pain and I shoot him a worried look. He shakes his head to tell me he's fine, brushing away my worries in an instant.
He cleans his fingers momentarily with his mouth before kissing me. I can taste myself on his tongue and his kisses feel desperate as he moans into my mouth making me somehow even wetter if that was even remotely possible anymore.
He breaks the kiss checking the time on the stove next to us.
"There's still some time, do you wanna keep going?"
"How could I ever leave you in this state?" I said with a glaring look down at his jeans that had become increasingly tight as he ate me out on the counter.
My hands reached for his belt as quickly as I could unbuckling it.
"So eager," he said watching as I fumbled around with it a little.
"Please jack. I want you inside me. Now. I’m on the pill you don't gotta worry about it. Please I just want you. Now."
I watched as he stepped back with that handsome smile of his and he took off his pants and boxers just enough to let his stiff cock spring free.
"You see something you like?" He said as he watched as I practically drooled all over him, at the sight of his erect cock in front of me.
"Oh shut up."
"Always so demanding princess."
He teases me by rubbing his tip along my folds making me even wetter every time he hits my clit. He taps himself along my entrance letting it lightly suck him in as he shoves just the tip inside. Pulling back out afraid to hurt me with his full length.
I whimper a bit as he pushes his way in and he soothes me with his voice gently making sure I’m okay the whole way through.
The slight pain at his size leaves me as soon as he starts to press himself against my g-spot with the fullest extent of his cock. He doesn't move for a second as he lets me feel him inside.
I practically squirm off the counter feeling him inside my wet pussy. I want more. I start to roll my hips against him in hopes that he will get the hint to start moving. Doing so elicits a hot breathy groan from the bottom of his throat.
He understands almost immediately that I'm feeling good enough for him to start moving. He starts out slow and controlled but the more he grinds himself against me the more he started to lose control. I clung onto him from around the neck and I could tell he was really feeling every inch of me as he moved sloppier.
Each thrust making both of us needier as our voices started to get a little too loud with the lewd noises of our bodies mixing. I could no longer contain any sound my mouth made and Jack used one of his hands to push me into his shoulder with a soft whisper in my ear: "Be quiet for me baby, I know you can."
And so I pressed my mouth against him to stifle my moans as he pushed himself in making my breath hitch every time he hit my sweet spot. I could feel my stomach tightening once more as I got closer and closer to finishing for the second time.
At the same time Jack's thrusts were getting sloppier, less precise and more hungry for anything he could grab onto as his hands tightened their grip around my waist.
"Jack…please…."
"Oh I know sweet girl, I know. You wanna cum on your dad's best friends' cock, don't you? Hm."
He waits for a second for me to respond but I can't seem to get the words out.
"Isn't that right sweetheart? Fuck—I can feel you squeezing me so hard, you're so tight around my cock baby."
His thrusts get a little faster and more desperate as he starts thumbing my clit with his other hand. My mouth starts to bite down onto his shoulder from how badly I want to scream.
"I can't take anymore—Jack fuck."
"Hold it just a little longer baby. Shit—your pussy was made just for me wasn't it princess? Take it just for a little bit longer like the good girl you are? Okay?"
As he said that he grabs my face and kisses me. His tongue reaches deep into my mouth in a desperate mess with his lips all around me.
"Cum with me baby—shit—I can't…fuck…cum on my cock princess I know you want to."
I finally feel my release coming as does he breaking that tight knot in my stomach as I whimper and moan against his lips. With his last thrust he's stilled deep in his own orgasm as he fills me up from my deepest point.
We both just sat there for a minute, our breaths mingling and heart beats syncing.
"You okay? I wasn't too rough was I, I’m sorry if I haven't—"I interrupted him before his rambling could mess up this moment.
“Jack it was perfect, honestly…the best I’ve ever had," I admitted with a deep blush covering my face that I couldn't hide this time.
He stared at me for a long minute, taking in my words before simply kissing me. This one was soft and gentle. His lips in no hurry to leave mine any time soon.
Once we broke apart, and he pulled out, he carried me into the bathroom to get me cleaned up. The both of us quickly got redressed and made it look as if we didn’t have mind-blowing sex seconds ago, before stepping outside just in time to see the last little firework be set off as if we'd been there the whole time.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it really is," he said as he stared over at me with a small sparkle in his eyes.
I looked around to see if anyone was watching and when I see no one is I give him a quick peck on the cheek.
His hand rested in my back jean pocket causally as if it was almost meant to be there.
That night Jack asked if he could stay the night here at my dad's, claiming he was too drunk to drive home, knowing he only finished one beer. My dad saw no problem with it and of course let his best friend crash for the night.
That night I snuck into his room.
"Jack…," I said with a quiet whisper.
"Hm…," is all he said in a quiet hum as he lifted his head up slightly.
"I can't sleep…," I said.
He simply scooted over and made room for me after lifting up the covers and rearranged himself so I could sleep under his arm.
"Good night princess," he said in a groggy voice barely awake as he pulled me in by the waist into his embrace. He gave me a small kiss on the arm before falling back to sleep.
I doze off to sleep in his arms faster than I've ever fallen asleep.
The next morning I sneaked out of his room early and headed to the bathroom. Once I was done I walked into the kitchen, to Jack already awake with my dad too just making conversation over the morning paper and coffee while making breakfast.
Once we all sat down to eat my dad asked, “Where were you guys during the kid’s firework show? I tried to find y'all but couldn’t see either of you anywhere.”
Jack and I exchanged a quick knowing glance before we came up with some lie about how we were discussing me possibly moving down to Pittsburgh to finish off my residency at Jacks hospital. Along with my dad simply commenting about how it would be a great idea and his spare room is always open. Jack simply smirked as he placed a teasing hand on my thigh pretending he wasn't really doing anything at all and just continued eating, quickly changing the topic.
Brains dump where Jack Abbot delivers his own baby.
You’re fuming. Like absolutely raging. 8 months pregnant with change and your crib is still not put together. Part of you didn’t want the crib until you were passed all your health checks - call it superstition.
Jack promised he’d build it but nights and unexpected SWAT raids got in the way. So you decided, hand on your belly “we’re gonna do this just ourselves, huh jellybean.”
Oh was Jack fuming when he came in to you, Stanley knife in one hand and balancing the large box against your leg as you ripped open the packaging.
“What’re you doing, sweetheart? I told you I’d build it.”
“Yeah, well you’re never home and at this rate our baby isn’t going to have a crib.”
“Sorry I’m trying to pull extra shifts so everything is good to go when you pop! Put the fucking knife down and sit down!”
“I’m pregnant not porcelain you idiot!” You’d yell back, not caring if the neighbours heard at this rate. If they couldn’t put up with a heated argument how would they put up with a screaming baby in a few weeks.
His face turns pale as the knife drops from your hand and you scrunch your face in pain.
“What was that?” He’d ask, not caring about the crib or the fact you’d just insulted him.
“Just those hicky things”
“Braxton hicks, honey. When did they start?”
You’d turn away from him, utterly furious, suddenly walking towards the bedroom. “Stop being dramatic. You’re my husband not my doctor!”
“I’ll stop being dramatic when you actually start acting like you’re pregnant and start looking after yourself!”
He didn’t miss the way you started throwing things into a duffle bag, things for you and the baby. “Come on now, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Just. Sit down for me, take a breath.”
“I can’t jack, because my water broke about three insults ago!”
Fuck…he’d seen the traffic on the way home. There was no way he was gonna make it to the ER on time with you.
“if i put my hand down your panties am i gonna find you soaked?”
“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you whisper yell at brendon, as if anyone can hear inside the room you’re currently standing in. “you can’t say things like that when we’re at work.”
“yeah?” he stalks towards you, like a cat eyeing up its prey. “you didn’t deny it. tell me about how wet you got watching me lay into whitaker back there.”
your entire body feels warm underneath his gaze, “park.”
“no,” the tone he uses on you makes you flush. “come on, princess.”
“daddy, please not now.”
brendon ignores your pleas and slips his hand into your scrubs. as soon as his fingers find your sopping cunt, he laughs. the bastard fucking laughs.
“poor baby,” he circles your clit and you press your face into his shoulder both out of embarrassment and arousal at his casual dominance. “just needed daddy to play with her pretty pussy, huh? she’s weeping for me, angel. how long have you been like this? you know all you have to do is ask.”
you whine when he presses a finger into your entrance, and he shushes you gently.
“you need to be quiet, princess,” he reprimands. “can’t have the whole hospital knowing how good daddy’s making you feel.”
he adds another finger into your heat and you clutch onto him for dear life, a broken moan falling from your lips that’s quickly muffled by his skin.
“so worked up,” that filthy mouth of his continues. “was this morning not enough for you? couldn’t just have my mouth, had to have my fingers too? should i add another, sweetheart? think you can take three?”
you nod and as soon as he adds the third finger, you clench around him. he swallows your moans with his mouth, tongue finding yours as he finger fucks you in the ED, where anyone can walk in and find brendon park with his hand down your pants.
“you’re dripping all over my hand, baby,” he groans into your mouth, the sound of your wetness filling the room. “you gonna be a good girl and come for me?”
“daddy, fuck,” your eyes roll into the back of your head. “i’m gonna come.”
“that’s my girl. look so pretty. come on, angel. come all over my fingers.” as soon as his thumb circles your clit, you come with a cry against his shoulder.
CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Established relationship w/Jack Abbot. Age gap implied. Pet names. Kissing. Groping. Ass squeezing & rubbing. Oral sex (f! receiving). Reader has female characteristics & wears a dress. Reader also has a nice ass. Jack is just a horny freak okay.
A/N: Honestly, this is lowkey a nothing burger. I just really wanted to talk about Jack Abbot liking sundress season cause he gets to be a freaky frog with his girl. I was inspired after seeing this post by @/cuti3-81, it's just too damn good! Anywho, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. <3
⟢ NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST
I just know Jack Abbot loves sundress season. He loves knowing that you’ll go buy new outfits for the warmer season using his money, and he gets to reap the benefits of seeing your looks in person when you wear the dresses on outings and dates with him.
Truly, he loves anything you put on, he’s a simple guy. But when it comes to the way the fabric of these dresses wrap around the silhouette of your curves and squeezes you just right, he goes a little stupid in the brain.
Jack can’t help himself when his eyes trail behind your figure as you walk by him to the kitchen wearing a sundress, maybe in a bright color, purposefully making it hard to miss you. His sight isn't the only thing that follows you; his feet move in your direction, quickly coming up behind you to wrap a thick arm around your waist. You spin in his arm to face him, and his grip around you tightens, effectively pinning you to his chest, just enough so your breasts are squished against him.
“Hey there old man,” you greet him sweetly, almost with faux innocence, and your arms move to settle over his shoulders.
“Hey baby. Is this dress new?” He knows it’s new, he knows every single dress you have in your closet. He simply likes knowing you spent his money dressing yourself up.
“Mhm. I ordered it the other day with a couple of other things. Do you like it?” It’s hard to ignore you when you were looking at him with a flirty flare of your lashes and plump glossy lips.
Did he like it? It seems like a stupid question, but he was willing to indulge you just a bit.
Jack stays quiet but his eyes greedily rake over your body. The light blue fabric stretches almost too well. The deep cut of the lace neckline ends right by your sternum, the golden necklace he gifted you last year dangles as your breasts rise and fall with every breath you take. He can tell you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, his blood runs hot and rushes below the belt as your nipples poke through the material.
Yet that wasn’t the best part.
Taking a large hand, Jack palms the middle of your back and traces the length of your spine. He stops just a little bit before he hits your tailbone, digging his fingers to put some pressure before moving lower. His hand follows the curvature of your ass, grabbing a handful and giving you a loving squeeze. You laugh from the touch, stretching your back more so he can continue to grope you just the way you liked.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” his chuckle rumbles against your chest, and a smile creeps up onto his aged face.
“I like it a lot. It’s very pretty on you. You’re very pretty. Always are.”
Jack grins and leans forward to plant a kiss on your waiting lips. You expected him to pull away, but he only lavishes you with more attention. He kisses you again and again until your tongue curls around his, both of his hands now kneading your ass, he groans when you sigh happily against his mouth. He grips you harder and lifts one of your cheeks, and you gasp as he spreads your bare pussy just the slightest bit.
Of course, he also knew you weren't wearing any panties underneath.
“What time is brunch with the girls again?"
"The reservation is for 12:30. I still need to fix my hair and find my shoes." You can sense Jack thinking, the cogs in his mind working overtime so he’d come up with a solution to the problem that was the growing bulge in his pants.
“You can spare a couple of minutes for me. Right, baby?” He kisses you once, attempting to coax you to agree with him, as if you needed any more convincing. “I want a taste of you before you go.”
The look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t suggesting. You merely bit your lip and nodded. A thrumming pulse beats under your warm skin, slowly building up between your legs, right where you needed him.
“Bed or couch?” As Jack listed your options, he kissed your neck and walked you backwards towards the living room, pawing at your hips and groping your chest.
“Couch is closer," your voice shakes and you clutch the back of Jack's head to steady yourself. He gets close enough to the couch to gesture at you to sit and lean back on the cushions, grabbing a spare pillow to place under your hips as he gets comfortable to lay down in front of you.
"I only need 5 minutes, then I'll drop you off. I promise."
He was already getting your dress out of the way and impatiently kissing on your inner thigh, mouthing at your hip and pubic bone, so close to his target he could practically taste it. He didn’t even hear you say yes before he dove in head first between your legs, lapping away at your sweetness with a satisfied moan and a roll of his eyes. You let him take what he needed, digging your nails into the graying curls you loved so much and shifted your hips to grind into his mouth, giving yourself to him until his craving was sated.
You arrived at brunch only a few minutes late thanks to Jack driving faster than usual. As he rolled up to the driveway of the brunch spot and kissed you one last time, you could still taste yourself on his lips. From the gleam in his eyes and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he was well aware of that, and wasn't too bothered by it. In fact, he was probably a little too happy for your liking. Though the two orgasms he gave you earlier and the rasp of his stubble on the skin of your inner thighs certainly worked in his favor.
"Text me when you're ready for me to pick you up," Jack says, caressing the side of your cheek before he has to let you go. "Don’t get into too much trouble."
"I’ll be good, Jack. I promise." With one last smooch, you exited the car and made your way into the restaurant, with Jack happily watching your ass jiggle as you walked away from him.
He hates to see you leave him, but man, did he love watching you go.
Summary: Not having seen you in a week has Jack on edge, and to add to his frustration, a certain doctor thinks he can touch what’s his
Warnings || smut, P in V, unprotected sex, implied age gap (Jack is 50 and reader is 30) oral (f!receiving), creampie, rough sex, daddy kink, jealous!Jack is a warning, inaccurate depiction of a hospital workplace
A/N: I had an itch that needed scratching so I wrote it myself. Hope ya’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
Jack had been in a mood for what felt like forever. Your schedules weren’t lining up so the last week or so had been just texts and short phone calls.
Being doctors, you both understood what was demanded of each other. Him as an ER attending and you as a pediatrician, work life balance wasn’t exactly something either of you excelled in.
But when things became official, bit by bit you’d drawn boundaries at work, now refusing to compromise time you could’ve spent with each other.
Still, duty calls, and for over a week, Jack hasn’t seen your face unless it was through a phone screen. Not being able to kiss or touch you in any way has made him an even bigger grouch.
Truth be told, he was loosing it. He’s exhausted and pent up to the point he’d consider giving up his other leg if it meant spending even a little time with you.
So when his rare day off finally comes along, he’s already making the trip to the pediatric ward. With your coffee on one hand and a small excited smile on his face, he wishes the elevator would go faster. He can’t waste even a second.
Jack is already planning the evening in his head. He’ll pick up a few steaks and cook it at his place, not forgetting to grab your favorite wine too. Maybe you’d watch a movie, but truth be told he probably wouldn’t pay attention much because all he’d want to do is make out with you on his lap.
Jack is busy playing out scenarios in his head when he’s stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the hall is you, hair in a loose bun, looking every bit as beautiful even with the fatigue weighing you down. But it’s not the sight of you that has him on pause, rather the hand that’s running up and down your arm.
That blonde pediatric surgeon you’ve introduced to him some time ago is offering you a smile that looks fond, but Jack knew better. He knew that behind those eyes was an attraction you were oblivious to. You offered a polite smile back, mind only half registering what your colleague was saying.
Almost as if you had a sixth sense specific to his presence, you had turned your head, bright smile instantaneous as you watched Jack walk closer to where you stood.
Taking a few steps to close the distance faster, you were quick to wrap your arms around him.
“Jackie…” you murmured as you slanted your head to bury your face in his embrace.
Standing there, finally having you in his arms, the animosity that had started creeping up his veins slowed to a stop, albeit momentarily. He pressed you harder against him, communicating his longing through the hug both of you clearly needed.
Only when an awkward cough came from behind, did you reluctantly release your boyfriend.
“Jack, you remember Dr. Adams.”
If looks could kill, lord knows Dr. Adams would’ve dropped dead on the sterile floor. Jack only offers a small nod of his head in reply.
“Ah Dr. Abbot. Nice to see you again. I was just telling Dr. L/N what a great job she’d been doing with-”
“I’m sure she did. My girl has always been amazing at what she does.”
Your eyebrows crease at that. While Jack has always been a fan of pet names, it’s the possessiveness in his tone that has you tilting your head.
“Well, that’s true. Just the other day, with her patient, she-”
“Actually, I did have something I needed her to look at downstairs. So if you don’t mind…”
Jack was quick to intertwine his fingers with yours, walking back to the elevator with you in tow, not sparing doctor blondie a second glance.
Jack definitely missed this. You’re panting and whining as he sucks on your throbbing clit, fighting the urge to lock your thighs around his head.
It took him less than 10 minutes to drag you to his truck in the hospital parking lot and even less time to have you screaming his name.
“That’s it… my pretty baby, let me see you cum on daddy’s tongue”
His fingers have replaced his tongue, twisting them upward and curling them just right to hit that spot while his teeth lightly graze your sensitive clit.
“I-I, Jack! Please- Ah ‘m gonna cum” you squeal as he slaps your clit, sending shocks through your body, his stubble further adding to your overstimulation.
“C’mon pretty girl, let go for me,” his words have your muscles seizing up as you squirt into his awaiting mouth.
While he has you catching your breath, Jack is impatiently taking his pants off. You watch with wide eyes as he strokes his hard cock, tip an angry red, desperate to sink into your heat.
He’s gentle when he lifts you unto his lap, smiling softly at your flushed face as you settle your knees on either side of him.
Jack can’t wait for long, not when your soft hands have wrapped around his length, lifting your thighs up as you sink down on him slowly.
You let out a broken moan at the stretch of his cock. It’s been awhile, the frustration and impatience catching up to you as well.
More than a week without his touch and your pupils are dilating as you watch Jack throw his head back as you take him deeper inside.
“Fuck, there you go, my baby girl, so perfect, all mine” you mewl at his praise, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.
There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you as he rubs on your clit again with a rough thumb.
Jack bounces you softly as first, relishing in your little gasps as you adjust to his size. His length has always been a challenge, and your time apart makes him extra gentle with you despite the animalistic urge to lift you up and slam you back down his cock till he hits the very back of your insides.
He leans forward to suck and kiss your tits as you begin bouncing faster on his cock. He lifts one hand before landing a harsh smack on your ass.
“That’s it, baby… you’re so good to me, princess”
The pressure deep in your belly is overwhelming as Jack thrusts up to match your movements. The kiss you share is desperate and filthy. Your cries filling the small space.
“You going to cum for me? Yeah, baby c’mon- make a mess on my cock,”
That sends you over the edge. The absolute filth that comes out of Jack’s mouth is downright sinful. He has you shaking in his hold, coming hard for a second time.
Jack doesn’t take long after that. His hold on your waist is bruising as he keeps you rooted to the hilt while he cums inside you.
You’re breathing heavily as you collapse on his chest, your insides are warm from his release. Neither of you speak as you revel in the bliss of your orgasms.
Jack is planting soft kisses to your neck and shoulder when you finally find your voice.
“This was what you wanted to show me?” You teased. “The backseat of your truck? For you to fuck me in?”
Jack grumbles as you giggle.
“I was gonna invite you over to my place. Cook you dinner, ya know? Just wanted to spend time with my girl” he whispered the last part as he nuzzled into your neck
“I was gonna wait for you till your shift ended but then doctor Ken had his hands all over you” Jack continued.
“Doctor Ken?”
“That Ken doll looking, blonde idiot”
“Oh my god… are you,” Jack grumbles and hides his face deeper in your neck.
“You’re jealous of Dr. Adams?” Your tone carries your amusement at the situation.
“He’s obviously into you,” Jack whines. “Looking at you with hearts in his eyes, all lovey dovey and shit”
You’re laughing harder now, relishing in the way Jack is blushing at your delight.
“You know you have nothing to worry about right?” You pull Jack’s head back so he’s looking into your eyes.
“Dr. Adams is just a colleague, if anything, him still acting that way towards me knowing I have you just makes me want to set the record straight with him.”
“You sure I can’t just punch him?”
“Dr. Abbot!” You gasp. “That’s no way to treat the other doctors,” Your face gives way to a teasing smile.
“Doctors aren’t supposed to fuck each other on the job either but that’s never stopped us”
You slap his chest at his crude remark and Jack can only laugh at your embarrassment.
“Your shift ends in a few minutes so I think we can go straight to my place, sweetheart”
“At least let me get my things before we leave”
“Mmmm you’re gonna walk back to peds and say goodbye to doctor blondie while my cum drips out of you? That’s so fucking hot-”
something something robby and you, the pretty gf he brought back from his sabbatical, who he lets live in his house free of charge, but on one condition—you’re only allowed to walk around the house naked.
and you agree of course, happily laid out in his bed all day, before wandering down into the kitchen to fix yourself some lunch. he tries to call you at least once during the day but with how hectic his work gets, you understand if he can’t. so you settle with a couple of texts, letting him know what you were up to and that you wished he was back home with you instead.
then when he finally returns after a gruelling shift, he asks you if you’ve showered today and when you shake your head no, he swiftly scoops you over his shoulder and marches to the bathroom. you shower together, him rubbing shower gel into your skin as you reach up and wash his hair with shampoo and conditioner. you both dry off and he throws on some pajama pants and retires to bed, putting his glasses on and reading a book, while you settle into his side, your leg thrown over his. his arm wraps round your shoulder as he leans down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, murmuring my sweet girl, dad’s good at lookin’ after you, isn’t he into your hair. you nod, before yawning and muttering mmhm love you dad, nuzzling your face into his side.
summary: you're too young for me and this is wrong and i'm supposed to be teaching you float around jack abbot's head. but every time, knowing that he shouldn't, he still leans in to kiss you.
word count: 17.9k
tags: first year!reader (but no age mentioned + she has a stupid nickname), illicit workplace relationship, lots of guilt/we shouldn't do this (mostly from jack), yearning/pining, shea's version of slowburn and a bubbly reader and much too much dialogue, regular hospital talk/mention of injuries/death and fourth of july special scene <3 maybe out of character for the other doctors but i tried my best!, smut (fingering, orgasm denial, dirty on-call room sex, creampie because.. duh).
note: based off of the intern baking for jack during his bad week blurb, also known as i can't help myself
jack abbot stares at you, then down at the containers in his hand filled with cookies that you baked for him after he spent the better part of a week yelling at you, and then back at you.
and then he laughs for the first time all week and wonders to himself—what the hell am i going to do with you?
because truly, you are something else. jack’s seen you in passing during day shift sign-offs at seven pm, and occasionally walking to the lockers a touch early. reflecting back, while placing the yellow tupperware into his own locker, he thinks he’s even seen you as early as six-thirty in the morning some day, if not most days.
he can’t resist—who told you about his sweet tooth, he’s not actually sure—but he opens up the lid. just like you had told him before you walked away to start your shift, the round chocolate-chip cookies don’t have any sea salt on them, not that he minds.
he bites into one and chews on it while trying to remember what else he knows about you—all that comes to mind is your teary eyes day before last when he yelled at you over something he can’t remember right now.
it hadn’t been that big of a deal—there was a patient presenting with disrupted kidney function and you hadn’t discontinued their nsaids on your initial evaluation. the solution, usually, is a stern conversation and to inform you for next time. no ibuprofen for the guy with bad kidneys, something you would have figured out in the next hour even if they hadn’t immediately caught it.
but for some reason (he knows the reason, he thinks grimly) he had yelled instead. raised his voice, caused a scene. every nurse nearby had looked up and started whispering—and he knows how the gossip goes in this place.
even ellis had intervened and dragged you away, glancing back to give him a look something akin to what the fuck, man?
because he doesn’t yell—it’s not hardwired in him to do so. he was raised in a loud house but he’d almost looked to avoid it everywhere he went, trying his hardest to not become like his father in that way.
the realization that he never yelled when his wife was still alive hits him like a slap to the face every time. he can’t help it, and he’s sure everyone justifies it for him. even when he’d yelled at you and you’d stood in front of him like a kicked, teary-eyed puppy, he hadn’t realized he’d done it again—taken out his frustration on the nearest thing. he’s sure that parker’s with you in some corner, telling you how he usually never yells and it’s his week from hell and you’ll see the real abbot next week.
that doesn’t take away from the fact that he made you cry, though.
nor does it erase the fact that you made him cookies. quite frankly, delicious cookies. maybe the best ones he’s ever had. soft and chewy and made with semisweet chocolate chips. before he realizes it, it’s seven pm sharp and he’s eaten the whole thing, shoving his go-bag into the locker carefully on top of the container you gave him and going out to join you for sign-offs.
and he doesn’t realize it either, not until you stare at him for a moment too long, garnering a cough from mckay as she tries to tell you about the patients from the chairs, the ones that you’ll be following up on and taking care of for the rest of the evening.
there’s chocolate smudged on his fingers, and he’s licking it off, trying to pay attention to robby—who looks at him confused, and then glances at you, and turns back to jack almost… knowingly—while you’re paying attention to him.
and jack, well, everyone knows about jack’s staring thing. they call it just that—he has a problem with overdoing eye contact. he doesn’t know when he picked it up, though he’s sure it’s another one of those military attributes he pretends he doesn’t have. what he does know is that he’s always been able to tell when someone’s looking at him, like you are now.
jack turns his head just to look in your direction for a moment and he finds you already facing in his direction. your gaze quickly goes from his eyes to his fingers and then back to cassie, and he doesn’t have to be near you to know that you’re flushed.
then he stops himself—he doesn’t have any business digging around in your thoughts, wondering what exactly made you look away, was it the fact that he turned to look or that he already knew you were staring—and for the first time all night, he tries to pay attention to robby.
fuck. is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of your time on nights? resisting the urge to turn and lock eyes with you, to make sure you’re there and make sure you’re looking, even when he knows you are?
no, no. he’s not that guy. he’s not the guy who obsesses over the nice, pretty intern and accepts her cookies when he’s the one who made her cry to begin with.
you have a place in this hospital, and it’s to learn and grow and better yourself under his guidance, not stay nestled in his thoughts that linger somewhere between inappropriate and really inappropriate.
no, what jack wants to do is get you alone somewhere quiet so he can apologize, and make sure that you believe him.
rarely does jack abbot get what he wants.
you’re talking with mckay still, going on about something at a mile a minute, in more of a carefree tone that he’s never been on the receiving side of. every time he’d spoken to you the previous week, he’d been angry and you’d been dejected. it’s not how teaching is supposed to be, especially not jack’s teaching. he’s always been proud of how he treats residents, how they flourish under him, how they end up liking nights like john and parker did.
he catches the ending half of your conversation with cassie.
“-but the recipe doubles really, really easily, so if you make them and you feel like you want more, because, i mean, i made them for a bake sale once-”
“and it’s always a crowd pleaser?” cassie asks, tilting her head at you, looking as focused as jack has ever seen her. he doesn’t know the context, though he’s sure it has something to do with harrison and his school.
you, on the other hand, are completely engrossed in the conversation. as though cassie’s son and his school’s bake sale are the most important things on the planet.
“always! it’s so good. but just make a test batch—it’s so easy. half the recipe, try it out, and then if you like it, you can use the extras to let people try it before they buy it-” you’re interrupted, parker calls out your name somewhere in the distance.
the day shift has began to filter out. robby pats jack’s shoulder firmly before muttering i’m outta here, but jack stands frozen in place, wanting for some reason, to hear the end of your conversation.
he didn’t know people could be so passionate about baked goods—but he guesses it makes sense. for you, that is.
“actually, that’s not a bad idea. you sent me the recipe already?”
“yes, i texted it. but i can email it if you want, or i-”
jack actually laughs—you’re so eager to get cassie this recipe. he thinks you have more energy right now than he’s had all day.
he hears cassie thank you, and he gets a glimpse of you beaming at her, a bright, pretty smile, before the charge nurse calls out his name and his shift really starts.
shen jumps on with him and he sees you somewhere in the distance, probably running through your game plan for some patient in the chairs with ellis. you smile brightly at her too, and for the first time in a long time, jack has a thought that he deems in the category of uncontrollable.
he’s a disciplined guy, always has been. thoughts don’t consume him like wildfire, rather they run through a series of checks and balances before he even fully thinks them. last week his system had been all off, leading to you getting yelled at in the first place, and right now, the whole thing seems like it’s gone haywire, focused on one thing in particular.
what does he have to do to get you to smile at him like that?
+
the night shift is a place of routine. jack wants to get you on a trauma with him, wants to show you what he’s like when he’s of sound mind and not thinking about how last week, a couple of years ago, he had the worst day of his life. and then a couple years before that, another worst day of his life.
he has an overpowering urge to show you what he’s like on a normal week. he can even picture it in his head—handing you gloves and asking you questions that help you run the trauma, to get you in the habit of approaching the cases like he does. the questions are to make you believe in yourself—if you know the answers, you could have run this whole thing by yourself. if you get something wrong or don’t know, he throws in an easier one next time.
you might be a little worried at first but you’d get the hang of it. and then, after the patient was stable and he got to tell you good job, you’d do it. smile at him, beam up at him like you’ve been doing to the others. the kind that makes your eyes light up, makes little lines crinkle in the corners of your face, lets him see your lips—well, that’s not important.
what is important is that you realize that jack abbot is there to help you, not to make things worse. that’s the side of him he wants you to see.
but unfortunately, the night shift is a place of routine. interns are on chairs, getting every move double-checked by a senior resident. there’s enough hands on the day shift to allow first years to jump on every incoming but nights are not nearly as well distributed.
so, you and jack fall into a routine—you both show up early for your shifts, walk to the lockers together in silence. sometimes you stare and he catches you, and other times you catch him. you think about asking him what he thought about the cookies, or if you can get your tupperware back, but then you stay silent and head out into the chaos.
one day at six forty-five, he sees you looking at him while mel is trying to tell you something that you are decidedly not paying attention to. after he looks your way, you turn back to her and start profusely apologizing.
he turns back to robby, missing half of what he said.
“you okay?” robby asks, gaze flickering towards jack, and then back at you, somewhere in the distance. jack nods. “how’s she been doing?”
he doesn’t have to say your name for jack to know who he’s talking about.
“fine. good. i haven’t gotten much of a chance to teach her, so-”
“right. teach.” robby says it and looks at jack differently—as if he’s amused.
“what?” jack snaps, suddenly irritated by the line of questioning.
“nothing. this week’s probably gonna be her last on nights, just so you know.” before jack can respond, robby puts his hands up in defense. “don’t shoot the messenger. apparently we’re supposed to be cycling interns and r-twos so they all get to experience nights. something about equality and fairness. i don’t know but you can read the memo.”
“fairness?” jack grumbles, though it’s mostly to himself. he’s annoyed, and he knows why, and he doesn’t like the reason why. “they used to put us on nights for three months at a time and the only memo i ever got was too bad.”
“careful, jack,” robby says, a little too sing-songy for his current mood. “you keep talking like that and she’s gonna think you’re an old grump.”
jack glares up at robby, wanting to reply but nothing biting comes to mind.
“you have a good night, jack,” robby says and jack mutters back a yeah, yeah. he turns to watch robby leave, but somehow, his gaze still ends up back on you, like it always does. it’s harder still throughout the course of the night, nerves somehow taking over him every time he wants to tell you to drop whatever patient’s hand you’re stitching and jump on this trauma with him.
the vision he’s been chasing, aimlessly at that, seems further and further away as the hours pass each night. your shift is filled with first degree burns and sprained ankles and kind-of, sort-of allergic reactions, when it should be spent by his side, learning everything he has to offer you before you’re back with the day shift.
because that’s why he’s so invested in making sure you’re on a trauma with him—because of how much he has to teach. parker and john haven’t said a bad thing about you, and even the day crew during passing exchanges—nothing besides wondering how you have so much energy at seven am without a cup of coffee in your system.
that is why he’s so invested—right?
on your last shift of nights for this block, you show up a little extra early. you think you can avoid jack by doing so, but he comes early too, wanting to catch you alone, if just for a moment.
you walk with your hands filled with more tupperware that he recognizes. the very same containers are sitting on his countertop right now, the contents mostly eaten. he doesn’t want to finish the last of your cookies even though they’ll get stale soon. and why that is, he pretends to not know the answer.
he follows you into the break room at six twenty-five while you open the lids and set out napkins.
“oh,” you say, surprised when you hear the door click behind you. you didn’t think anyone would have noticed you sneaking in there. “dr. abbot-”
“listen, kid, i need to-” jack’s eyes, without intending to, fall from your confused expression to the table in the room. you have more cookies—maybe snickerdoodle—in the containers. “what’s this for?”
“it’s my last day on nights.”
“so you made cookies?”
“it’s to thank everyone,” you ramble on, like you have to justify the idea to jack. “for being so patient with me. interns are already so annoying and then on top of that when they’re not sleeping. i just thought it would be nice. and there’s no nuts or chocolate so it’s more allergy friendly, you know. i-i’m gonna stop talking now.”
“no-” he says, too quickly, and you look just as confused as ever. your eyebrows knit and your mouth opens a bit and he stares at you, while you stare at him. in fact, jack wishes you wouldn’t look at him like this—cute and confused and too nice for your own good. “no, i mean-”
what does he mean? what he really wants to say is please don’t stop talking, but all that comes out is—
“that’s…nice. i’m sure they’ll appreciate it. and interns, well, they’re supposed to be annoying. that’s how you learn.” jack pauses, thinking he’s done well, that this is a good place to stop. “not that you’re annoying, that’s not what i-”
“thank you, dr. abbot,” you supply, smiling at him. and god, if it isn’t exactly how he thought it’d be—your bright smile feels like it sends a halo of warmth over the person you’re looking at, and this time, it’s lucky him. your face changes too, the confusion and concern melt away and are replaced with sheer joy, like you’re thankful for every bumbling word in a fairly awkward conversation.
he’s never been like this, he thinks, or maybe the confidence that surged through him during every trauma had nestled somewhere permanently, constantly hitched along into his real life. he’s never considered himself a don juan but he’s not a stranger to women either—and he certainly doesn’t stutter through sentences and backtrack because he’s worried he’s offended you. that doesn’t happen to him. it’s never happened to him.
but he supposes, taking in how you smile with your entire face and what else he can do to get you to stay smiling, that there’s a first time for everything.
“you were saying something? when you came in?” you ask.
“yes, uh-”
damn it. what was he saying? he can’t remember. it’s distracting—you, the cookies, your radiant smile, all of it. especially when he thinks about a week ago today, when you were standing in front of him with your wet eyes and wobbly chin, when he was angry about something he can’t even piece together right now. right—the apology.
“i just wanted to apologize for my behavior last week. i-i hope you-”
but before he can finish the sentence the door opens. it’s dana.
“jack, robby’s asking for you. three incoming mvc’s and mckay left early for something with her son and no one else is here yet, and-” she stops, glancing between you, jack, and the cookies on the table. “hey, kid. you jumping in?”
you glance to jack when dana asks that, big eyes staring at him for permission. you really shouldn’t have done that, because he thinks you’re only making all the rest of this much worse, whatever he’s been pushing down and burying for the last week that seems determined to hit the surface today.
“tell him we’re coming,” jack says, and though he had more to say to you, he has to stop for now. on the walk to the trauma bay, jack recaps how he runs through traumas with you. he ties your gown while you pull gloves in his size, and then the ones in your size.
when you hand him the gloves, he gets a look into your eyes—pretty, nervous, excited. in that order.
“what do we have?” jack asks, and trail behind him momentarily, taking a big breath before walking out and following him into the trauma bay. robby jumps on the first ambulance with heather and leaves the second to you and jack. you see frank and mel walking towards the third one, still driving up.
the paramedic starts rattling off the vitals and the patient keeps speaking over him, thrashing up and trying to crane her neck despite the c-spine collar wrapped around it.
you know what you’re trained to do in these situations—listen to ems, treat the patient, figure out what she keeps interrupting for after you’re positive that she’s not going to die on your table. but some part of you just can’t let it sit like that. you can’t stand when someone thinks you’ve ignored a part of their sentence, much less ignore them entirely.
“wait, wait,” you tell the paramedic as they’re wheeling the gurney into one of the trauma rooms. all around you, the nurses have started their work, setting up iv’s and rolling in portable x-rays. they set aside blood and wait by the phone to call for the surgical consult or to clear up ct as soon as you and jack decide the patient needs one.
“excuse me?” he replies, turning to look at jack with an expression that asks are we listening to her? and even jack looks at you a little confused while you get closer to the patient, until you’re in her line of sight and she stops moving so much. the noise around you will never fully go quiet, but it dims down for thirty seconds.
“you have to stop moving so much, ma’am. what are you trying to say?”
“i really think we should-” the paramedic interjects, but you snap your head towards him, trying to figure out how to say shut up without really saying it.
“can you please, just give me a second?”
“my daughter, my daughter, she’s hurt, please-” she responds, not thrashing anymore, just crying.
jack looks between you and the patient for a moment. this case is surgical—she practically went through the windshield. there’s glass that needs to be removed, a concussion, possibly a chest tube, and an airway if she crashes.
“you guys need hands in here?” you hear trinity ask from somewhere behind you.
jack knows you have a choice here, and he thinks, for a moment, you’ll tell her to find the daughter while you finish this trauma with him. it’s for your own learning, your education. it’s to show you what the some of the worst outcomes from car accidents look like, things to check for in the future even if your patient looks fine.
“i’m gonna find your daughter, okay? but i need you to stop moving so they can take care of you. because she needs her mom, too.” you turn to santos, and trinity jumps in while you walk out. jack catches one glimpse of you before turning to his patient, laying still and compliant, crying silently.
an hour later, most of the day shift has gone home. trinity even stops at bed 19 where you’re suturing the little girl’s arm while she drinks a juice box and waits for a head ct in case she has a concussion too.
“when is it gonna be my turn on nights? abbot is so cool. i put in the chest tube and got to bring her up to surgery.”
you get an uneasy feeling in your chest thinking about someone else on nights with jack in your position—not the yelling, but rather the apology he never got to finish. how sincerely he looked at you when you left to find the daughter instead of finishing up with your patient—maybe it was a mistake. maybe he’ll be upset with you, but it doesn’t matter, since it’s your last shift, anyways.
“and those cookies are fantastic. alright, thanks bubbles. i’ll see you back on days.”
“bubbles? wait, those cookies weren’t for you-” you call out after her, but she walks away without responding. you turn back to the little girl.
“there’s cookies?”
“yes,” you sigh, taking your seat again. her arm is nearly done, just needs a bandage. dad is on his way, the social worker is informed, and someone should be coming over to take over to watch her until ct is ready. “i can give you one after your dad gets here, if he’s okay with it. but for now you have to rest.”
she asks you if her mom is going to be okay, and in truth, you don’t know the answer. you should, but you don’t. you excuse yourself when one of the nurses gets there to monitor her, and try to find parker so you can move onto the next.
jack must be in another trauma, because you don’t see him anywhere and though you’re not eager to get yelled at again, you do need to finish the conversation from earlier.
and you need your tupperware back.
you end up seeing six patients, getting four of them ready to be sent home and two waiting for beds upstairs and consults that are taking far too long. parker pulls you aside while she chews on one of your snickerdoodles.
“can you do nights more often? these cookies are great, bubbles.”
“okay, when did this catch on? i know trinity likes her nicknames but this is the first time i’ve heard it. also, what the hell does it even mean?”
parker looks at you with a tilt of her head.
“seriously?”
“bubbles? maybe something like, i don’t know, crybaby, i would have understood.” you pause, hesitating, and then glancing up from the screen you’ve been staring at, your half-assed attempt at a proper note. “wait, how long has she been calling me that?”
“since your first day. but it doesn’t sound like nearly as much of an insult as it used to.”
at least parker will give it to you straight.
“can i ask you something? about dr. abbot?” you don’t know where the surge of confidence comes from, but you think you need to ride the wave to some answers before your shift ends. you glance at your watch while parker does the same. almost midnight.
“i’ll give you five minutes. by the way, he was in the break room if you want to ask him directly.”
“really?
“yeah. shoveling down cookies. you’re gonna give him pre-diabetes.”
“really?” and it’s hard to hide your smile, entire face lighting up. “it’s my favorite recipe. well, second favorite, i guess. my roommate in medical school had a nut allergy so i always made snickerdoodles for her, but those brownies i made for him are probably are my actual favorite-”
parker’s expression changes.
“you made him brownies?”
“yeah?” fuck. “it-it was to apologize. for last week, the nsaids thing.”
“he yelled at you.” she pauses, staring at you a little more quizzically. “he made you cry.”
“he was having a bad week?” you offer sheepishly.
“right.” another pause. “what was your question?”
“i don’t remember. i’m gonna go see a patient now.” you save the contents of your note and decide to finish it later, during the three am lull with a hot cup of coffee and a cookie if there’s any left.
your question was going to be disguised with a ramble of some sort, asking ellis if she thinks jack abbot is the type to apologize for yelling at her or if there was something else he was going to tell her before those traumas came rolling in.
but lucky for you, you get your answer. four am, in the break room, running a little late on finishing your notes, behind on a schedule that you had invented in your own head. the last patient you saw had been really frightened of the hospital, as well as a language barrier that you had to wait thirty minutes to find a translator for at this hour.
you need a coffee, a cookie, and a computer to finish your notes. and then you need to leave the night shift and not be stuck in the hospital with jack abbot for twelve hours.
though there’s a smile on your face when you open the door, at the very idea that jack liked your snickerdoodles enough to shovel them down, or whatever parker had said. you look up and your smile gets replaced with surprise at the man standing in front of you.
it’s mental beetlejuice, or something. every time you think about him, boom, there he is. facing the counter, pouring black coffee into his steel gray tumbler.
“oh. hi.” how can you be so shocked that he’s in here? it’s four am with no incomings and it’s really not that big of a department. you passed the other two doctors on with you on the walk here—parker at central talking to a nurse and shen at a computer eating a granola bar.
“hey, kid. coffee? just made a pot.”
“yes, please.” you walk over, fetching your yellow mug from the cabinet. you glance at the table—your containers empty save for the crumbs of cinnamon sugar on the bottom. “was gonna have a cookie too. i should have made more.” jack pours you a cup and then hands you the creamer and the sugar. you notice that his own coffee is drunk just black though.
“it’s john, i’m telling you. he’s got a sweet tooth worse than mine. and don’t let parker fool you. i saw her in here three times tonight.” jack takes a seat in one of the chairs, but first he pulls one out for you.
you sit down and smile, laughing at his comment.
“well, she said that you were in here shoveling them down, so, i don’t know who to believe.”
“she said that?” you nod, taking a sip of your sweet coffee.
the coffee in the break room is notorious for being just fine. it’s never great, or even just good, it’s just fuel. but it tastes a lot better today.
“i’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.”
you laugh again. you look over, realizing there’s one cookie left in the container.
“one left. but you can have it,” you say, the caffeine and this conversation doing wonders for your energy levels. “i had a bunch at home earlier today and i make them all the time, so-”
“nah, kid. we’ll split it.” jack breaks it in half and slides it towards you on a napkin, and you smile at him again—warm, generous, compassionate.
a lot of big words to describe the smile of a resident he just got to know better this week, but he can’t turn it off. the radar in his head alerting him that the person he’s been thinking about for hours is sitting in front of him now, nibbling on half a cookie.
“that was a nice thing you did, earlier. with the mom and the daughter. she was completely compliant after.”
“i figured. i can’t believe the paramedic didn’t listen to her the whole ride in, though.” you take another sip of coffee before putting your mug down on the table. “not that he did something wrong. i know he was trying to help and they’re trained to focus on the patient and all that. but she was moving around in a c-collar, so i figured-well, i’ll stop rambling. they said the surgery went good so that’s all that matters, i guess.” you go quiet, taking another bite just so you stop yourself from talking too much again.
“both things can be true. he should have listened and he did his job. how’s the daughter?”
“good, good. i gave her stitches and she had some minor cuts. i think the mom thought she was bleeding a lot worse. dad’s with her, so…”
“you had the chance to jump on the trauma but you left to take care of the kid.” jack doesn’t say it with any sort of tone, presents it to you plainly, like a statement.
“is this the part where you’re gonna yell at me?” you blink up at him, worried again.
“no, no. i just-” he pauses, thinking about his words carefully. he smiles, like he’s about to laugh. “it’s just the sort of thing i can’t teach, so-”
there’s a knock on the door, and you audibly sigh. is it the worst thing in the world to ask for some privacy for five minutes in this place, to be able to finish a conversation with your attending for once?
it’s john.
“incoming. three minutes out. aw, man, are those the last of the cookies?”
you do get to jump on the case with shen and abbot, though the man isn’t in bad condition at all. took a spill on his kid’s toys and bruised his tailbone, but his wife called for an ambulance. he waits for a head ct and x-ray and the room clears out, and you wonder if you’ll get a chance to finish out your conversation with jack abbot.
you don’t.
he stays behind to tell robby something and parker and john usher you out for a celebratory latte—decaf, obviously—to finish your first small taste of nights. you carry your empty containers in the tote bag you brought them in, and realize you didn’t even get a chance to tell him to bring your containers back.
(whether you want the containers or an excuse to talk to him again, you don’t know. it’s a can of worms not worth opening now that nights are done—though you’re sure he must have finished the contents by now. the idea of your yellow tupperware sitting on his counter or his kitchen table, well… it leads your mind to wonder about other things.
what does his place look like? did he sit on his couch with brownies and farmer needs a wife, like you had suggested? what about in his bed? jack doesn’t seem the type to have a television in his bedroom, or the type to eat in bed, though sometimes you’ll make an exception for dessert, and maybe he can be convinced.
and then you cut the entire thought out of your head, because it’s downright unprofessional and you have no business spending time wondering about his bed or his couch or anything else. stupid tupperware. and what’s even worse is going home with the realization you might not get to find out what jack was going to say to you in the break room, either time.)
+
if you ask a hundred emergency room doctors what the worst day of the year is, you’ll get a hundred different answers. halloween, thanksgiving, and new year’s are all up there.
but jack abbot’s answer has never changed—fourth of july.
a day littered with sunshine, grilling, and sparklers. to any emergency medicine specialist, it’s more about sun-poisoning, choking on hot dogs, and burn injuries from at-home fireworks. the hospital is flooded with back-to-back traumas, ranging from people passing out at the beach in the afternoon to full body burns by the evening.
you had always predicted the worst part is how a lot of the injuries are on children. they’re the ones left unattended while mom and dad drink themselves silly or let them play with firecrackers on the pavement, assuming they’ll be fine. you’ve done two emergency medicine rotations in school and you think you know what the fourth will be like, that you’ll be unnerved the entire day by the sound of crying children and trying to hold back anger on the irresponsible parents.
but walking through the doors of the hospital on your second week back on days, you realize you really don’t know much.
like, for example, that jack abbot walks in beside you and mel at six forty-five. you look at him confused, and then turn to mel, who doesn’t match your expression but is also confused, you’re sure. jack is quick by the lockers—takes off his backpack and heads straight back out.
mel speaks up first.
“i didn’t know dr. abbot does days,” she says, taking off her jacket and folding it neatly.
“i didn’t either. do you know why?” it’s really an unnecessary question—it shouldn’t matter to you at all. but it does, and you’re terrible at burying things. it’s written all over your face that you want to know the answer why.
“well it’s likely just for overflow. i’m sure they’re expecting double the amount of patients today.”
“right. yeah, that makes sense.”
“though it is surprising-”
“what is?”
“-that he didn’t take the day off, i suppose.”
“why’s that?” you ask, and mel shrugs.
“fourth of july is a usually tough day for a lot of veterans. when i was at the va hospital, some of the other doctors who had served would stay at home with their families. and the noise from the fireworks, too-”
mel goes on, but you have a hard time paying attention to the rest of her story. one thought washes over you, filling you with enough dread to last all day, making your blood feel icy cold in your veins. jack doesn’t have any family to spend the day with at home, so instead he’s here for the day shift, to help with the extra patients.
“i hadn’t thought about that.” you say quietly. you put your stethoscope around your neck and hold the familiar container in your hands.
“that’s okay, a lot of people don’t. i don’t think i did before my year there. wait, are those more cookies?”
it seems that robby shares some of your dread. you head out with mel, putting the star shaped sugar cookies with red and blue frosting in the break room. during sign-offs you tell parker and john to grab a few—just a few! leave some for the rest of us—before they head home. you smile politely at frank, who seems very concerned with making sure mel knows how hectic this holiday gets in the pitt and ask cassie how that bake sale went.
and then robby pulls you aside, leading you in front of central.
“i brought sugar cookies, i hope that’s okay. is something wrong?” you ask, gauging how robby is looking at you right now.
“yeah, everything’s fine.” he looks around distractedly, or maybe like he’s trying to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “listen, i know you just got back from nights-”
“are you sending me back? to nights?”
“what? no, no, we need you on days. i mean, you just finished nights and you were with abbot for a bit. how’d that go, by the way?”
“dr. abbot?”
“nights.”
“oh,” you say, feeling yourself flush. warmth spreads over you despite how cold it runs in the hospital. flustered, you continue. “it was good. um, busy and i learned a lot.”
“and you got to spend some time working with abbot, right?”
“yeah. some-uh, yes. i did.”
“great. because today is a bit of a weird day for him. he’s not used to days and we get overwhelmed pretty quickly. he’s here to help and it’s always great to have extra hands, especially his hands, but-” you zone out for a moment at the thought of jack’s hands. “-he seems a bit off and i want to make sure he’s doing okay, and he’ll just ignore me if i ask. so if you could—?”
robby trails off and you stare at him blankly, blinking after fifteen seconds of silence.
“if i could what?”
“just, check on him, y’know, throughout the day. just make sure he’s alright. thanks a ton kid, i knew i could count on you.”
“wait, what-” but then robby is gone, and you’re left at central with dana behind you, handing you a tablet with a patient’s name on it and somewhere to your left is jack, immersed in a conversation with heather. you stare at him, and the he notices you looking, and looks back.
any other day, you’d turn and go straight to your patient, but not today.
today your attending has given you a task—check in on jack. make sure jack’s okay. and you are not the type of person to disappoint your superior.
you walk over to them, smile at both, and then watch as heather excuses herself. had robby told her about the task he’d assigned you?
“hey, kid. don’t tell me—america themed cookies?”
you shirk under his gaze, the idea that felt very cute last night suddenly seeming exceedingly corny.
“it’s just festive,” you argue. “the frosting is made with blueberries and strawberries instead of food coloring. it’s healthier, i mean, it’s practically like eating fruit.”
“i don’t think you’re winning that argument, but sure, whatever you say. if parker and john left any for the rest of us.”
“i made a bunch this time. i figured there’d be more hands on deck today, i guess.”
(you hadn’t figured that. your logic with doubling the recipe and yielding twice as many cookies was that maybe there’d be some leftover for the night shift to take home with them—specifically one salt and pepper attending who already has two containers of yours at his home. what’s a third?)
“smart. we’ll need them. it’s gonna be a busy day.”
“that’s what i’ve heard,” you look up at jack again with a small smile—trying to disarm him without alerting him of your motive from robby. “how are you feeling, by the way?”
jack knits his eyebrows together.
“how am i feeling?”
“are you okay? do-do you need anything? i can go get you a cookie now, if you want, before they’re all gone. it’s not just the night shift, you know, trinity plows through them. and mel doesn’t have as much of a sweet tooth but since it has the fruit frosting, you know, i think she’ll like them.”
jack looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s holding back a laugh, stopping it short at just a smile.
“i’m, i’m fine, kid. and that’s alright, i’ll go get one in a bit.”
“oh. okay. well that’s good.”
“are you okay?”
“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” you lock eyes with him again.
“no reason. well, maybe we can go get that-”
“dr. abbot?” someone says, and you hold back the groan. it’s getting harder and harder to keep it inside.
the people in this hospital really don’t want you to finish a conversation with your attending.
“yeah?”
he gets pulled up, and you do too—back to the chairs. it’s the usual residual patients from last night, but as the hours pass, you get more injuries related to the holiday. the allergic reactions and sprained wrists turn into burns from the grill and heat exhaustion.
you find jack three more times in between seven patients—asking him he’s okay, how his patients are, if he wants that cookie now, or maybe water? all these people are dehydrated, it’s no good if their doctors are too, right?
the next time you do it, he locks eyes with robby right after. you sneak your way past moving gurneys and crying patients, just to tap his shoulder and check in one last time before you sit down to debride a severe burn, one that’ll have you gone for at least an hour.
“what the hell did you do, robby?” he asks, while they monitor a man who came in on the ambulance after setting half his body on fire trying to grill hot dogs.
“what do you mean? nothing.”
“that kid has-”
“did you try those cookies? they’re fantastic. no wonder you want her back on nights.”
maybe another two hours later, during a surge of ambulances, you realize you haven’t seen jack in a while.
you pat your patient on the shoulder—a little girl with her mom who took a spill on the pavement while chasing her sister—and tell them you’ll send the nurse over with their discharge papers, and set out to find jack before sitting down with yet another burn—your tenth or so at least so far today. you close the curtain and look at the chaos in front of you—gurneys lined up against walls, patients crying and the entire place smelling of burnt flesh and salt water.
dr. abbot is by the trauma bay, organizing patients as they come, and the whole thing feels more like a triage unit than it does an emergency room.
you see trinity seeing the others from the chairs, heather jumping onto an incoming with robby. mel and frank are in one trauma room and jack is standing in the middle of everything.
is it the best time to ask him how he’s doing? no. that much is clear to anyone with a functioning frontal lobe.
but you are not just anyone, you’re you. you get slightly muddled in the head when it comes to jack abbot, and you definitely are not going to disappoint robby when he put you in charge of checking in on him.
you weave your way through the floor, avoiding nurses walking through with supplies in their hands and telling whoever you were supposed to be checking in with that you’ll be right back.
you dodge two gurneys that almost took your knees out just to get close enough to say his name and for him to hear you. you don’t see the one rolling right behind you.
“dr. abbot, are-” you’re interrupted by the sound of your own yelp, when jack reaches out to clasp his hand around your arm. he yanks you hard, pulling you out of the way, and suddenly, all the noises of the emergency room die down.
you hear the paramedic behind you, apologizing as he wheels the gurney out and back to the ambulance bay. you hear dana shouting from central to you—watch out, kid!—and even the wails coming from the trauma room robby and heather are in—a woman crying.
but you don’t really hear any of it. your eyes are locked on jack’s hazel ones, his fingers still tight against your bare skin. his hands are softer than you’d imagined.
you blink at him stupidly, mouth falling open a little. you must look as dumb as you feel, almost getting hit by a gurney in the middle of a very busy shift. it’s like intern 101—things to avoid doing, especially in front of your attendings.
but jack doesn’t seem mad. he looks at you with concerned, pretty eyes, a focused expression. and then, at the same time—
“are you okay?”
you both stare at each other for a while. you must look the equivalent of someone starstruck, staring with sparkling eyes, looking almost as grateful for him as you feel. that gurney would have taken you out of commission—at the very least you’d hit your head and be filling out paperwork under gloria’s watchful eye.
but you’re fine, save for a large bruise forming on your upper arm with each second that passes by as you continue stare at jack.
“you two!” dana shouts over the other commotion, effectively snapping you out of it. all the noises return at once, making you wince, and what’s worse is that people are staring. “incoming, two minutes out. the rest of you, back to work-”
“come on, kid. you’re with me.”
you most certainly are.
+
at around quarter past eight on the fourth of july, you’re seated across from jack abbot at his favorite twenty-four hour diner.
well, to be fair, you’re making more assumptions in the thirty minutes you’ve been sitting here with him than you have for the entire time you’ve know him. first—that this is his favorite diner. second—that he’s as interested in you as you are in him. and third—that you’ll finally get to finish the multiple conversations you’ve started with him and been unable to finish due to interruptions.
but there’s no interruptions here. post dinner rush, with a group of teenagers a few tables away and a couple in business clothes eating on the stools by the counter. there’s no nosy residents or gossipy nurses or incoming traumas. it’s just starting to get dark out, and you know the fireworks will start soon.
what you don’t know is if jack is going to be completely okay tonight. you don't care if you’re a temporary distraction from the noise, but you do care if you’ll be enough of a distraction for him.
the two of you order enough food to feed the entirety of the night shift at the hospital right now. the short staffing is the reason why you didn’t sit down to eat until seven forty-five, but it’s fine. as long as you’re here with him now.
you justify it mentally while jack steals one of your french fries—the ones he said he didn’t want half of when you asked—that you just need to finish the conversations from earlier. that it’s not wrong or inherently bad to order half the menu with your attending, one that was responsible for all of your anxiety three weeks ago.
but staring at him like this, you wonder what you had been so worried about. in fact, over the last few weeks, you’ve realized he’s nothing like what you thought at first.
“okay, i know this must be sound terrible,” you start, setting down your soda and reaching for another salty fry. “but that was amazing. like, the thrilling kind of amazing. does that make sense?” you stare at jack while you await his response.
“yes, it makes sense,” he says, but he can’t contain the laugh anymore. it comes out from his chest—unadulterated laughter, the rumble taking over his entire body.
“you’re laughing at me?” you ask, though you don’t actually seem upset about it. it’s hard to feel any sort of upset when you’re listening to what may be your new favorite sound in the world.
“no, no, i promise i’m not. you’re just so… you. even on a day like today.”
“what does that mean?” you reply quickly, sitting up straighter in your seat, expression turning deadly serious. “god, i’m so sorry. is that completely insensitive? i know it can be a hard day, i mean, well i didn’t know know. but mel brought it up this morning when we saw you and then robby told me to check on you and i thought i was helping until that stupid gurney almost took me out. but i just meant after that! the traumas and doing them with you. i-i hadn’t done any yet, with you, so i-”
“when do you breathe?”
“sorry,” you sigh. “it’s a bad habit.”
“don’t apologize to me, please. it’s-” jack goes quiet, his mind searching to fill in the blank but coming up empty.
it’s nice, he thinks. sweet. refreshing. funny. you’re all of those things and more. you don’t bite your tongue and hold back thoughts. you ramble until he can step into your thoughts completely—see it from your perspective like he’s inside your brain.
and jack—well, jack has friends. army buddies, guys he used to study with during medical school, a couple people from his residency that he stays in touch with. he has robby, though his friendship with him is going to be on thin ice after what he put you up to earlier, and dana. his parents are gone and so are his in-laws but he calls his sister when he really needs to talk about something and he checks in with his wife’s siblings once or twice a year, usually around the anniversary of her death.
(he hadn’t done it a few weeks ago, though, and he has trouble figuring out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. but then he stares up at you, sipping your drink, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence, before you, undoubtedly, ask him if he’s okay again. like if he tells you that he’s not—because really, he’s not—that you’ll make it your personal mission to make sure that he is. and that, well, what is he supposed to do with that?)
luckily the waitress interrupts the silence with the rest of the food—grilled cheese and waffles and whatever else sounded appealing in a hunger-driven craze—and he doesn’t have to finish the thought.
you two do talk about other things—how he’s sorry about yelling that week and how you completely didn’t deserve it. you tell him it’s fine and that he had a bad week and that you’re not upset, that it would feel wrong to hold that against him. he tells you about how good the brownies and the cookies were, and you beam at him with that smile again.
the conversations ebbs and flows—how it was nice of you to take care of that woman’s daughter. how great you did in the traumas today. how stupid robby is for asking you to check in on him—don’t listen to him ever again, just, come to me first next time.
and then once the food is eaten and your drinks run empty, and the sound of fireworks is littering your eardrums, you just say it.
“i don’t think you should be alone tonight.”
“i’ve spent lots of july fourths alone, kid. i’ll be fine.”
he probably will be fine. he has noise cancelling headphones and though his apartment is close to the park where the fireworks are held—an oversight he didn’t think of when he moved in—he can distract himself enough to get through the night. he’s been doing it for years—taking care of himself when it comes to things like this.
“no, i-i know you will be. i just don’t think you should be alone.”
and then, for a split second, the force of your caring, of your affection for him hits him like a blow. it rushes over him—the feeling of how easy it might be to let you take care of him. to let someone else do it for once. reality seeps back in slowly, bringing his senses back one by one.
the first thing it does is remind him that you’re an intern.
“kid,” jack says firmly, sitting up straighter in the booth. he rests his elbows against the table, staring straight at you, boring into your soul like he always does. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“why not?”
“well, for one, i’m your attending.”
“oh, who cares about stuff like that? it’s not like i’m gonna tell anyone,” you reply, as though the words had come to you quickly, like you really believed them.
as if you’d already put some thought into your response before he’d asked you the question.
you don’t seem the least bit hesitant about basically telling him to spend the night with you—whatever that might mean to you. he doesn’t want to assume things, but it’s been a while since he’s done something like this. he doesn’t know what’s changed in the last decade and he certainly has never done something like this with a resident, much less an intern.
the whole thing is seeming much too bill clinton to him. he wants to express the thought to you, though it doesn’t make much sense—he’s not married and he’s not the president but you’re an intern and he was raised right so it feels wrong—and then he realizes it quickly. are you even old enough to remember that scandal? he shakes his head, as though he can dispel the thought by physically removing it.
“i care about stuff like that. there’s a power imbalance here, and-”
“i’m not even on nights anymore!”
“but you will be on nights again in the future. in a few months from now, when you’re a second year. you’ll do a whole month of nights in third year, too.”
your lips curve up into a playful smile.
“getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”
“kid-”
“i said you shouldn’t spend tonight alone. you’re thinking three years ahead. i mean, don’t get me wrong, jack, i’m totally flattered, but i think you should scale it down. one day at a time and all that.” his expression changes and so does yours—it’s the first time you’ve ever called him anything other than dr. abbot. “i’m sorry. is that completely unprofessional? oh my god, am i one of those people? is that harassment?” you whisper the last part, as though you’re worried he’ll leave to report you this instant.
jack wants to bang his head against the table. he thinks, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time about what he’s going to do with you.
the waitress brings the check and he places his card in her hand before you can so much as glance at it.
“i… i just meant that, i think it’s a bad idea if you spend tonight alone. we can watch a movie or make cookies or whatever you want to do. it’s just-” you trail off, suddenly quiet.
“it’s just what?”
“if we both go home alone, i’m just gonna spend the whole time worrying about you, anyways. might as well worry about you while i’m sitting next to you.” you stare at the table the whole time you say it, and then your gaze flickers up at him before looking back down quickly. “that must sound crazy. i’m sorry-”
“stop apologizing to me, kid.”
it’s hard on a regular day to resist the urge to listen to everything you say, to comply since he knows how good you are. made of a kind of sweetness that he really doesn’t know the first thing about—how you got to be this way, with an abundance of compassion, enough to make him feel like he’ll explode from the sheer strength of it.
what jack does know is that he wants to find out.
you both get up, and you put on your pullover from what can only be your alma mater, grabbing the containers you’d brought into the break room this morning. he swings on his backpack and you both walk outside. it’s dark now, and you can hear fireworks somewhere in the distance. the noise is loud and uncomfortable even to you, and you briefly wonder how it might sound to jack, and decide again that you really, really don’t want him to be alone tonight.
“listen, kid. i don’t want you to waste your night worrying about me. you should-”
“oh, trust me, it’s not a waste. i have an ulterior motive for wanting to go back to your place,” you say, nodding when jack tilts his head at you in confusion, wondering if he’ll bite.
“yeah? and what’s that?”
“i need my tupperware back.”
+
your back thuds against the wall beside jack abbot’s apartment door. you’ve never been here but you try to blink open your eyes to take it in, to see if it’s just as you thought it’d be while his lips—soft and wanton and kissing you—stay against yours.
it’s stupid—why are you worried about his apartment when your attending is kissing you like you belong to him? but then you remember something frank had once told you during your first week, something about adhd and how all of you probably have it, and then you start giggling against jack abbot’s lips.
his fingertips, which were brushing against the skin of your waist after sneaking under your shirt, tighten around the soft skin there. you can feel them digging in, but stupidly, deliriously, and a little light headed, you wonder if you’ll bruise if he pushes hard enough.
“y’know, kid,” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling away for just a second. his breath is hot against your lips and his touch makes goosebumps rise all over you, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up tall. “i haven’t done this in a while but if you’re laughing, i must be doing something wrong.”
you should say something, say anything, so he stops talking and keeps kissing you, but nothing comes out besides another laugh.
“i’m sorry,” you say, trying to catch your breath while jack’s hands hover over your hips. “i-” you glance up to lock eyes again, but when you see the way he’s looking at you, you stop laughing completely.
“if you’re uncomfortable, we can stop. you don’t have to-”
“no! no, i’m not uncomfortable. i-i’m laughing because this is so funny. you’re my attending and now we’re kissing and i’m in your apartment and it looks, exactly how i pictured it. and you’re so nice to me, but it’s the fourth of july and i want to make sure you’re okay because-”
jack interrupts you with another kiss, his lips pressing against yours. this time he doesn’t let up, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you collapse against the wall, knees suddenly very weak.
but it’s alright, because jack’s got you. he holds you up by your hips and your legs mindlessly wrap around him, his hands going to your ass to hoist you up and secure you around him. he lifts you up and starts walking, and you whine against him, impatient and fairly comfortable where you were.
it’s like he’s a mind reader.
“our first time is not going to be against a wall,” he mutters, mouth on the column on your neck, tracing kisses from your collarbone to your cheek and then back to your lips. you want to reply, you want to tell him that you would have been perfectly content against that wall, or the door, or the couch, or even the floor, but nothing comes out.
you pull away just for a moment to look at him in the dim light of his bedroom—flushed cheeks, breathing heavy, taking a moment to push a piece of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again. and then with his mouth on yours again, you realize that jack abbot has discovered some way to turn your brain off.
his touch is rough on your skin—when your scrubs got peeled off of you, you don’t actually know. he throws them somewhere on the ground and you paw at his shirt until he gives in and takes it off.
it should be slower, he thinks briefly, he should slow down and take his time and not even give in and slip inside of you until you’re already a writhing, aching mess. he’s out of practice but he knows how you are, knows what would make you fall apart piece by piece.
that’s what he thinks of when your hands go to the button and zipper of his pants. for everything he knows about you, you’re also impatient. and lucky for you, he is too.
jack is out of practice, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten everything.
“c’mon, kid,” he breathes against your collarbone, wrestling your hands away from and then pinning them over your head. “be patient.”
“i’ve been patient—!” you whine, but he doesn’t give in just yet.
“it’ll hurt, sweetheart. i have to stretch you out first,” he says, and you feel dizzy with lust. it washes over you and makes you dumb, and you, for everything you are, are not a dumb girl. at least—not normally.
jack skips the teasing this time, trailing fingers down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach. when he gets to your leaking cunt, he collects the wetness there with two fingers, and when you start whining again, impatient and antsy and your entire body humming with want, he does it again.
reminds you to be patient, and then plunges a finger inside of you. a moan leaves your throat—choked and loud, but he wants you to be even louder. you don’t know when he adds a second, and then a third, but you feel the delicious stretch of your walls, how his palm stays in place for you to grind up against. your hips buck up and you’re ruining his sheets and crying for more though you don’t even know what you’re asking for.
and jack takes it all in. how wet you feel against his fingers, how beautiful the noises that you’re making are. so focused on you—the sheen of sweat on your skin and how responsive you are to his touch, the noises outside his walls get drowned out.
“jack, jack, more—” you plead, but jack doesn’t listen. everything in your body feels ready to finish. your muscles ache, the knot in your belly tightens, and heat washes over you while your toes curl in anticipation.
and then jack just stops.
“no—” you whine, the rush disappearing all at once. “no, no, jack!”
“patience, kid.”
“you’re being unfair-”
“no, i’m not.”
“then why’d you-”
“because the first time i make you finish is going to be when i’m inside of you. understood?”
and for once, you’re silent.
+
“i would have gone to the roof, probably.”
you blink open your sleepy eyes. you’re pressed against jack’s chest, your head resting there while he trails his fingers through your hair. you’re wearing his shirt, sleeping in his sheets, a cup of water that he got you from his kitchen resting on the nightstand.
you can’t feel your legs, but that’s a problem for tomorrow—but at least you know now that you might have bitten off more than you can chew.
“what do you mean?” you ask quietly. the fireworks stopped an hour or so ago, and the only noise you hear now is jack’s heartbeat thudding against your ear.
“the rooftop, at the hospital. i go there after my shifts sometimes.”
a lot of the time—but you don’t need to know that. from the way you immediately sit up in bed, his sheets slipping a little and exposing more of your soft skin that you don’t seem to care about, he can tell you’re concerned already.
his shirt looks good on you.
“tell me it’s just for fresh air?” you ask, reaching your hand over to run your fingers through the hair near his temple. his eyes close when feels your touch there, and suddenly, it feels more intimate than it has all evening. jack takes a deep breath, and then sighs.
“something like that.”
“jack-”
“it’s just… i don’t know. i got used to it, i guess. at first it was just to see what it felt like being up there. then it just turned into something else. i go up there after a bad shift and look at all the people below and… decide if it’s still worth it, i guess.” his hazel eyes look towards you and jack nestles himself more comfortably against your hand that hasn’t left him.
“what’s gonna happen if you decide it’s not worth it one day?” you ask quietly, wet eyes sparkling up at him.
teary-eyed and flushed in his bed, all for him. you feel your emotions so strongly that he can watch them flooding your body, taking their course, almost sense them radiating from you.
that’s the second time you’ve cried because of him, and he decides he’s not going to let it happen a third time.
he takes the hand that you had extended against him into his own and presses a kiss against your palm.
“i don’t think i have to worry about that anymore.”
+
you get back to your apartment around four in the afternoon—you have a rare day off today. jack’s back on the night shift at seven, and though he offered to let you stay the night while he was gone, you wanted to give him time to get ready before going into the hospital. everyone has a pre-shift routine, even if they don’t recognize it.
now that you’re back on days, yours consists of waking up early to stretch and eat a big breakfast and leave enough time lay in bed for an extra ten minutes before you actually have to get up.
you don’t know what jack’s is but you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough.
the two of you slept in, courtesy of his black out curtains. you’re more of a get up with the sun person, but exceptions can be made.
(you’ll be making a lot of them from now on. jack abbot made you cum three times in his bed and once in the shower, and then he washed your body with his soap, the one you can still smell on your skin now. he kissed you while making you breakfast—eggs and bacon—and then told you to stop apologizing every time you accidentally hit your foot against his prosthetic under his dining table. and finally, he gave you one of your containers to take back home, and said he’s keeping the other one here. why? you’d asked. insurance, he’d replied.)
so you go back home, make dinner for yourself and wash your singular yellow tupperware and text jack to have a good shift tonight.
you set an alarm for five, get out of bed at five-fifteen and get ready for work, more giddy for a shift than you have been since your first day of intern year.
when you walk into the hospital, early like always, you see jack talking to parker. he looks in your direction and even parker can notice his gaze following something, but she doesn’t say anything. you look away before smiling to yourself, the grin being glued to your face the entire walk to the lockers as you recall memories of the last time you saw jack.
one of the perks of always being early is that there’s no one by the lockers when you arrive.
(you’ve never thought of it as a perk until now though.)
jack walks in behind you a few minutes later—right as you’ve tucked away your pullover and your bag and he stands beside you as you reach to pick up your stethoscope.
“ah, hold on,” he says, taking the stethoscope of your hand and into his. he loops it around your neck carefully, setting it in place for you. “there you go.”
“really?” you ask with a laugh, closing the door to your locker. “when you walked in here i thought i was gonna get a kiss. wait, what did you tell parker-”
“c’mon, kid,” jack says, looking at you with an expression you’re not sure you could ever get tired of. “i’m not that obvious.” you stare at him. “yeah, okay. i told her to go finish the note from the last trauma.”
“lucky for you, i’m your best resident. these other chums don’t show up until much closer to seven. actually, one time, santos came five minutes late. so-”
and for the second time, jack interrupts you with a kiss. he leans in, pressing his lips against yours, and your hands go slack by your side. his mouth tastes like coffee and even after a twelve hour shift he still smells like jack, the way his sheets and his soap and his shirt had smelled when you wore it.
he pulls away, and your eyes blink open slowly, like you’re figuring out where you are. fluorescent lights and the smell of the alcohol wipes they use to clean everything lingers around you.
and, of course, your attending, the one who sneaks into the locker rooms before shift change to give you secret and likely highly forbidden kisses.
“my lips are sticky,” jack says, bringing a finger to his mouth and rubbing it against another. you can’t bear to look at his hands right now, so you look away, at the risk of being useless for at least the next hour.
“it’s this lip peptide thingy. i don’t know, it’s good for them, i think. better than chapstick and they have all these flavors. they say it-” you trail off, staring at jack while he stares at you. he licks his lips.
“tastes good, kid. see you out there.”
oh god. you lean against your locker and watch jack leave. a minute later, mel walks in with trinity.
“i don’t want to hear it, bubbles. i’m here extra early, and not just to prove a point-”
“well, actually, i think it is to prove a point, but not-”
“what’s wrong? did the cat finally get your tongue?”
“i never understood what that meant-”
oh god. it’s going to be a long shift.
and outside the lockers, robby finds jack.
“so?” robby asks, leaning against the counter while jack sorts through tablets. he hands one to parker and then another to john, and they go off to pass on their patients to everyone arriving.
“am i supposed to know what you’re talking about?” jack replies, noticing you from the corner of his eye.
you’re coming out with santos and king, a water bottle in your hand. he had filled it for you before you left his apartment, after you’d refused his offer of walking you home. you look in his direction, and then you both look away at the same time. jack picks up his coffee cup to take another sip—if he doesn’t get the taste of you and your lip peptide thingy out of his mouth, he’s going to have a freudian slip in front of robby.
“i’m talking about you and the kid.” jack sputters, choking on his drink mid-swallow. “woah. you okay?”
“f-fine. uh, what? me and the kid?”
“yeah. since the fourth, you know, are you two good again?”
robby looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the silence with an answer.
“uh, yes. yeah, of course.”
“good. that was my goal. she started on nights at a bad time, and uh, i mean no one blames you. but we don't want to scare away all our interns, either.”
“right.” jack looks back at robby. “anything else?”
“no.” robby arches a brow at him. “you sure you’re okay? because she’s back on nights soon, and i don’t want-”
“i’m good, robby.”
“alright then. where are we with sign-offs?”
you on the day shift is something manageable. something he can handle, something that shouldn’t be too terrible for you two to figure out. you always come early and he always stays a little late, and he’s sure that it won’t look suspicious.
if you’re on days, then he’s not the one primarily in charge of your post-graduate medical education. that falls to robby and heather and frank, and he can trust that none of them are going to accidentally interfere with you learning everything you need to learn to be a good resident.
to be a great resident—because he knows you have it in you. you’re made of the stuff it takes to be teaching other interns one day—compassion and kindness and how to treat the person while you’re fixing the patient.
robby and heather and frank can help you with that. but if you’re on nights, it’s an entirely different ball game. he’s responsible for your education, for approving your notes and questioning your decisions and making you jump onto incoming traumas and justify every choice you make. he’s also responsible for correcting you when you’ve made a mistake. making you drink a cup of coffee if he thinks you’re getting tired. waking you up if you fall asleep at your desk at three in the morning.
and that’s just the problem. for the first time, jack abbot wonders if he can do all of those things if you’re the intern he has to do them to.
for god’s sake—he couldn’t even wake you up to ask how you wanted your eggs.
that’s the conundrum he’s facing when you come back home that night, near seven thirty. he’s off tonight and back tomorrow night, which means he gets about eleven or so hours with you until you leave tomorrow morning.
“hi,” you breathe, when he opens the door to let you inside. you’re clad in your pullover and you drop your bag by the front door when you come inside. “it feels weird to not go straight home.”
“oh, sweetheart, you could have gone home. i could have met you there-”
“no, no, it’s okay. i have a noisy neighbor and, well-” you drift off, smiling up at him the way you usually do.
“well?”
“i’d rather wear your clothes anyways.”
what’s he supposed to do when you say things like that? a couple of words that make him happier than he’s felt in years, lifting the storm cloud that’s been following him around since the conversation with robby this morning.
but it’s an important conversation, one that needs to be had. jack is a lot of things, but he is absolutely not a meddler in the lives of pretty interns or in the business of hindering their education.
“did, uh, robby say anything to you today?”
“jack,” you start slowly, turning on the couch to face him completely. “he’s not a mind-reader, you know.”
“no, i know. i just meant—well, did he?”
“no. he was normal. he even apologized for giving me side quests on an already busy day.”
“oh. that’s good.”
you bring your hand to his hair again, running your fingers through it. it’s almost an instinct to him now—jack closes his eyes for a moment and you watch his shoulders relax.
“what’s wrong? what’re you thinking about?” his pretty hazel eyes meet yours.
“i just want us to be careful-”
“hey, you’re the one who kissed me this morning-”
“i know, i know. i need to be careful, too. i don’t want-”
“i understand. i wouldn’t want everyone knowing i’m screwing the intern either. it’s kind of a cliche, honestly, we’re no better than-”
“what? no, no. i don’t want anyone to say anything that could hurt you, or for this to interfere with your education. it is a cliche, and i know you’re close with the others and people can act very differently when they think that-”
“jack,” you start, moving yourself closer until you can crawl into his lap. his eyes flick over you, settling to watch your lips before he locks eyes again.
“yeah?” he asks, his throat dry.
“in five minutes, i’m going to be wet and naked in your shower. you can either keep talking about this or you can come join me.” then you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. “c’mon, i wanna hear all about how you spend your days off, old man.”
and then you get up, peeling off your sweatshirt, and then your shirt, and leaving him a trail of your clothes that ends with your panties on his bathroom tile.
jack is a lot of things. but stupid isn’t one of them—so he follows you in there and leaves the rest of the conversation for another day.
but that day doesn’t end up coming that quickly.
as it turns out, interns on day shift barely get to spend time with their attendings from the night shift. on top of that, he has no idea how anyone manages to have an affair with a resident—they’re at the hospital every single day, pulling eighty hour weeks and coming home, if jack is even at home, completely exhausted.
but he also learns that glimpses of you at shift change and sign-offs at seven am and seven pm are enough to sustain the two of you.
it starts with conversations in the locker room before your shift starts. he makes sure his residents are distracted before sneaking away to get a kiss or two and leaning against the metal lockers like a lovesick high schooler.
“you know that patient i was telling you about yesterday? with the bleeder? well, i came to change my scrubs and trin was grabbing something and she saw me and asked if i was mauled by a bear.”
“oh, god,” jacks says from his position, watching you do the same thing you do every morning. put away your hoodie, grab your protein bar for later, tell him whatever you’ve been thinking about since he left you yesterday night. “what’d you tell her?”
you smile.
“something like that.” you laugh, so then jack laughs.
“that’s a little dramatic, no?”
“i also told her i’m clumsy, but i think she’s come to the conclusion that i’m a sex freak.” you close your locker, facing your boyfriend-slash-attending.
“well, i mean-”
“shut up. do not-” you start with another laugh, but your smile fades when you see mel walking in with frank.
“uh, make sure to check that with ellis, alright?”
“yes, i will, dr. abbot.” jack leaves, smiling politely at frank and mel and turning back to look at you once. he really shouldn’t but he’s gotten in a bad habit of it, even though one day, someone is going to notice.
“did you just tell abbot to ‘shut up’?” frank questions, and they both look at you, waiting for your answer.
“no! no, of course not. i was just telling him about something a patient said and, um, dr. ellis wants to document it. yeah, she wants, like, really thorough notes, so he was just telling me. about that. um-”
mel looks at you thoughtfully, before bringing her hand to frank’s arm.
“i have noticed that she writes her patient encounters in a very specific format,” she says, and you sigh without realizing it. you let her carry the conversation into how frank’s notes could use some work, and then the two tease each other while you quietly make your exit.
+
another morning, jack stands at central with dana and robby, filling both of them in on two patients who are due to come back in the afternoon and the three patients still waiting for a bed upstairs.
heather and frank are bickering next to the three of them like they always do, like they’re siblings fighting in front of the parents, when he hears what they’re talking about.
“well, now i feel bad, ‘cause she’s mel’s friend, but i don’t even have that kind of energy after two red bulls, so-” frank starts, before heather interjects.
“it’s not about energy, it’s just a conversation about burn-out. candles don’t burn on both ends for a reason.”
“okay, you lost me with the metaphor.”
“you can’t be that nice to every patient forever. at some point you have to pick.”
“be nice or save their life?” frank supplies. “so basically, when is she gonna become like the rest of us?”
“i mean…” heather trails off, turning to dana. “what do you think?”
“i think they call her bubbles for a reason,” dana says, pushing up her glasses. she cranes her neck to stare at the screen of patients, looking for the next empty bed. “and i think north-two needs to be discharged, so if you two are done-”
“let me test our theory,” frank says. he waves over the lot of you coming in for your shift—you, cassie, mel, and trinity. you look over at jack, and he looks over at you, before you focus back on frank. “need someone to discharge this bed and then go grab the next patient from chairs. dana—?” he holds the clipboard and looks over at all of you, but it’s only half a second before you chirp up.
“i can do it,” you say brightly. you smile at frank and dana, reaching for the clipboard, while jack watches it happen.
“thanks bubbles,” trinity says, while the others dissipate. you make a slightly dampened face at the use of the nickname.
“one other thing,” heather asks. “when are we gonna get more cookies?”
“oh! i’m so glad you guys liked them. i guess another holiday, if there’s one coming up? or someone’s birthday? actually, i think there’s just labor day and i don’t know what kind of themed cookies i’d make. well, chocolate chip cookie day is in august, i think-”
“kid?” dana asks. “the patient? north-two?”
“right. i’m sorry. i’ll come check in after i bring the new patient back,” you say, still smiling when you walk away with the clipboard in your hand.
“what exactly were you testing?” heather asks.
“i don’t know, but she’s definitely doing whatever your metaphor meant. are we taking bets yet? i wonder how long she’ll last-”
“alright, enough,” jack snaps. “do you two not have anything better to do? who’s this helping?”
“jack?” robby questions, his eyes flicking towards dana, who looks back at him with a shrug.
“why would you want her to be jaded? isn’t it better for our patients that she stays like that for as long as she can? i thought you’d try to keep her that way, but i guess-”
“jack-” robby interrupts.
“you two, go help somebody,” dana says to heather and frank, before turning to jack. “what the hell was that about?”
jack sighs, not realizing when his hand had turned into a fist. probably when your name was brought up.
“nothing, i just- bad night. that’s all.”
“o-kay,” robby whistles. “you going up to the roof, or?”
“no. no, i’m going home.”
jack walks away, not in the direction of the door, but rather towards the beds on the north side, almost instinctively.
“what the hell’s wrong with him?” dana asks.
“i don’t know. since when does he just go straight home after a bad shift?”
“i have no idea.”
(that night at six-fifty, trinity pulls you aside before you two head home. you’re antsy since you want to get a couple of quiet minutes with jack before you have to leave, but when she starts talking, you forget all about it. listen, trin says, i’m sorry about the whole bubbles thing, i didn’t think it was bothering you. but collins told me that abbot was yelling at them about it and he was pretty upset, so i- but sadly, you don’t hear much of the rest of the conversation.)
you walk away from her after she finishes, reassuring her that you’re fine, before setting out to find jack. he’s putting his backpack under the desk at the hub, and you go straight to him, not entirely caring that people can see the two of you, supposing it’s fine as long as they don’t hear you.
“what’s the matter?” jack asks, and then much quieter—”everything okay, sweetheart?”
“you defended me?” you ask softly. you’re normally full of words but it feels hard to find them just now, your head feeling cloudy.
“no, no, i just told them to knock it off.”
“was it something bad?” you question, your expression knitting into worry.
this is exactly why he got upset—why he didn’t like their conversation from the jump, why he knew that he wanted frank and heather to stop talking before someone else overheard and jumped in and you found out what they were saying.
it’s not bad, even you wouldn’t think it’s bad. but jack doesn’t like it. he doesn’t like anyone speaking of you in any way that he doesn’t like and he especially hates the idea that you’d be upset when you found out.
“no. i just-” jack trails off.
“you just?”
“i don’t like anyone talking about you. and i don’t like that stupid nickname, so-”
you smile at him, not the sort of innocent smile one casts at their attending—the result of being told good job on a case or have a good night on your way out. no, you smile at jack the way you do everything—with the full force of every emotion behind it, wearing your heart on your sleeve.
and jack couldn’t look away from you, even if he wanted to.
(the two of you look like idiots—googly eyed and lovestruck and every other way to describe people who like each other a bit too much. this time it’s dana who sees the two of you. she does a double take on her way to hand a stack of tablets to the night shift charge nurse and blinks twice to make sure she’s seeing the right thing. jack abbot, a regular on the roof, and the intern who they call bubbles, looking at each other like the rest of the hospital has faded away into nothing. and then she walks away, and decides she’ll wait for robby to bring it up.)
+
it’s mel next—she’s incredibly observant as it is, but even more so when it comes to someone she considers a friend, someone like you. trinity jokes about the continual bear attacks that explain the hickies on your neck and chest when you change out of your scrub top and pull on your hoodie, but mel knows it’s more than that.
she’s always known you get to work early, but recently, every time mel comes in to put away her belongings, the space that you usually occupy is already empty. your things put away, locker closed and locked, your yellow water bottle already resting by the computer that you usually write your notes at.
and after that, it’s just a game of paying slightly closer attention. you walk out from behind a curtained bed and come say hi to mel, ask her how her evening was, how becca is doing. but when mel glances up at the screen to see what patient you were with behind that curtain, it’s empty.
that bed was empty. and well, mel’s not much of an detective (though she has her moments), but it’s worth a shot. waste a few minutes, stare at that curtain to see if she can figure out what, or rather who is behind it. she’s almost about to call it quits, frank was running late but he’s here now and there’s an incoming so she should start moving and then—
dr. abbot comes out from behind that same curtain. he leaves it open, comes to the hub, smiles politely at mel and tells her to have a good day, dr. king, and then he walks away.
more specifically, he walks in your direction. the back of his head moves slightly in your direction. you beam at the tablet in your hands. and then—
“mel? you okay?” frank asks, and she’s snapped out of it.
(she could have figured it out ages ago, she thinks afterward, reflecting on how dr. abbot never used to tell anyone to have a good day or hum while finalizing notes or look up and smile in your general direction before looking back down at whatever’s in his hands. the first time she met him, she thought he was the type of person you categorize in the debbie downer sort of group, whereas from the moment she met you, you were clearly more of a chatty cathy. but you’re her friend. and when she had told you about her feelings for frank, you had listened and supported her and never made her feel that it was anything less than okay.)
so the next time she sees you at seven am, already out by your computer or walking back from around an empty corner, when she notices dr. abbot trailing behind you, she doesn’t say anything. when dr. abbot hangs around late finishing up a trauma and you go ask him for his opinion on whatever patient you’re seeing, even when robby is free just over there, she doesn’t say anything.
even when frank brings it up over dinner with her and becca, a side conversation while they eat spaghetti—you noticed anything different with abbot recently?—she doesn’t say anything.
in fact, the closest she gets to saying anything is when dr. abbot comes in early—maybe around five-thirty one evening—because they’re getting swamped and heather and cassie have the flu and it’s been a terrible mess of a day.
you and mel have been running around the entire shift, barely stopping to drink water or eat something. when jack shows up and flocks straight to you and leans in to tell you something, your hand moves to touch his arm for half a second before you remember where you are and put it down. jack pulls out a granola bar from his pocket and leaves you with it to jump on the next incoming.
mel watches the encounter and puts her head down when you look her way, pretending that she’s drinking her water and staring at a tablet. when she looks up, you’re gone in another direction, but dana stares at mel, both with an understanding of what they just saw.
and then they go on with their shift.
+
it all comes crashing down, just as it had the first time, after a particularly terrible night shift. it’s always hard when someone dies in the first few hours, leaves a horrible, bitter taste in his mouth that makes him want to walk outside and not come back in.
it’s even worse when he knows he did everything he could, that there was no way this patient was making it off the table. that the devastated husband and the crying kids were completely unavoidable, that he still has to go back and jump on the next case and start fresh and try to drown out those noises.
drowning, drowning, drowning. he’s always trying to drown out something. if it’s not the fireworks then it’s the kids sobbing over their dead parent, and if it’s not that, then it’s how he relives his own worst day of my life every time someone’s wife dies in front of him.
it’s been one of those days. you’re due to start on nights in two shifts from now, and he still has no idea how he’ll manage to be any less obvious when it comes to you.
(the last thing he keeps trying to drown out is how wrong this is. the voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him, seemingly unable to stop, no noise being loud enough to get it to stop repeating itself. you’re still a while away from being a second year, but is that even any better? or is that another excuse he’s invented to stop feeling so guilty about the fact that you sleep in his apartment every night and leave cookies for him on the counter so he has something nice to come home to? jack doesn’t know.)
you show up at six-thirty, smiling sweetly at parker and john, telling them to grab a cookie on their way out. parker asks you why and you tell her just because, and you want five minutes alone with your boyfriend before he leaves.
you’re impatient, always have been and always will be, especially when it comes to any and all matters related to jack abbot. you’re eager to go back on the night shift because you think you’ll be able to appreciate it so much more now—learning under his tutelage, being able to discuss those foreign medical journals he shares with you over coffee at four in the morning rather than through his illegible, scribbled print on post-its and your neat handwriting in the margins.
you want it all, and you want it now.
so you made more cookies—oatmeal raisin—to make jack’s apartment smell nice, and you pack several of them to have a valid reason to distract the others so you can get those five minutes, maybe ten, in peace.
“hi,” you sing, while jack stands in front of you, tablet in his hand and blood on his shoes. “how was your night?” he doesn’t look up, but you don’t wait for an answer. “i made oatmeal raisin last night and i put some in the break room so i think we have five minutes. i want ten but i won’t be greedy, i mean, we’ll be on nights together soon, so at least that’ll be-”
“we need to talk, kid,” jack says, looking up at you with an expression you don’t recognize.
“what’s wrong ja- dr. abbot?” a nurse walks by just as you start your sentence, changing it mid-way.
“that,” he says, coming out a bit louder than he meant it to. “that’s what’s wrong.”
“jack?” you say it quietly. he doesn’t mean it like that—he doesn’t want you to be upset and worried about him when you have a whole shift ahead of you, one that you show up early to with distractions so the two of you can have a few minutes alone.
it’s all of it—it’s the fact that you even have to do things like that to get five minutes alone with him. it’s that you can’t let someone overhear you calling him anything besides dr. abbot.
it’s the realization that you deserve much better than what jack abbot can give you. more than five minutes behind a curtain or a couple minutes in the break room or thirty seconds at central hub before the charge nurse comes in with another incoming.
“come on,” he says, leading you away for a moment. you have twenty-five minutes before your shift starts and he has two senior residents who can run the show until robby walks in. he leads you to the on-call room, four walls enclosing four beds. surgery has rooms of their own, but sometimes the trauma surgeon on deck will crash in there waiting for the next page, so he checks the room before letting you into it, closing and locking the door behind him.
“i thought you were gonna yell at me. this is so much better,” you say.
your mouth has gotten you into trouble before, especially with dr. abbot. in fact, it’s what got you into this whole thing to begin with, but where you expect jack to laugh in the privacy of this room, he doesn’t.
“kid, we need to have a serious talk about this.”
“about what?”
“this. us.”
“oh, jack, come on-”
“no, i-i’m being serious. this is not okay, it’s not sustainable.”
“you’re upset because we don’t see each other? honey, i start on nights in two days, i think we can make it,” you say, coming in closer to bring your hand to jack’s shoulder. “what’s going on? really?”
“don’t you think that… what i’m doing is wrong? you’re an intern. this is about your education, i-”
“why do you think you’re disrupting my medical education just because you’re my attending? i know i get stupid around you but i promise, i’m not gonna stop paying attention to my patient because you’re standing near me. i am a doctor, you know-”
“kid, i-”
“no, stop. half this hospital is dating each other. robby is heather’s attending and i don’t see you storming them into on-call rooms to debate about his influence on her medical education-”
“that doesn’t even make sense-”
“it doesn’t have to,” you sigh, out of breath and a little winded from how loud you’re being. “we make sense. you and me. we’re good together. a lot of things in this place don’t make sense but we do. people die everyday and i don’t want to die wondering what could have been if i’d just-”
“don’t,” jack interrupts, his hands coming to your waist. they feel tight, like the first time he’d help you like this. he brings his face closer to yours, foreheads almost touching. “don’t say that.”
“oh my god. i am so sorry. that must sound so insensitive, i just meant-”
“stop talking.”
“but i-”
and this time, he doesn’t give you a choice, pressing his lips against yours quickly. you mumble against else against his mouth, but he can’t make it out, choosing instead to ignore it. like always, jack’s mouth tastes like coffee and you take it in—your boyfriend, your attending, and whatever else jack abbot is to you, kissing you like he’s finally realizing that he belongs to you, just as much as you belong to him.
jack’s fingertips travel under your scrub top, hands roaming the expanse of your back and then settling onto your waist again while you keep kissing, realizing that when you go back out there, you’ll be flushed and warm and your lips will be swollen.
and then you realize that you don’t care, and you let your body lean against jack’s. he pulls away for a moment, but you don’t let him get the chance to stop, leaning in to resume the kiss, desperate to feel his tongue against yours again.
jack does pull away finally, holding your jaw with his hand.
“this is so much better,” you mumble again.
“kid, we can’t-”
“yes, we can. we have so much time, jack,” you say, trying your best to sound convincing.
“it’s seven in the morning,” jack argues, though he doesn’t resist when you pull his navy shirt off and over his head, exposing his chest to you. you run your fingers down the exposed skin, pressing your mouth against his shoulder.
“no it’s not,” you reply, leading hot, open-mouthed kisses from his collarbone to his neck, back up to his lips. “it’s six forty-something.”
“someone’s gonna-”
“no one’s gonna,” you say, smiling in that way that you do, the way that makes it impossible for him to say no. “not unless you stop talking, old man.”
“oh. that’s how you wanna do this?”
“i’m not doing anything,” you say, pulling off your own scrub top, and then your shoes.
“you’re gonna kill me, kid,” leaves his mouth as your hands go to the tie of his scrub bottoms, undoing the knot. jack brings his hands to either side of your waist and lifts, bringing you down onto one of the beds with all of his strength, making you squeal as your head hits the pillow.
he starts with a kiss to your jaw, and then your neck, trailing down between your breasts while he undoes your bra. your hands find his shoulders, gripping him tight while he works his way down, littering your stomach with kisses until he gets to the drawstring of your pants.
his fingers work on undoing it while you whine, and then try to push yourself to sit up against jack’s weight on top of you.
“oh my god, this is so embarrassing. i didn’t know we were doing all this. i have so many matching sets of underwear for this very occasion and the one day-”
“sweetheart, i love you, but you really need to stop talking right now.”
“you love me?” you repeat back. “you love me. oh my god, i-”
you lean in, lips crashing together hard, until jack moves and he’s on top of you again. he slides off your bottoms first, his fingers dancing around the waistband of your panties—navy blue with lace on the sides and he thinks they’re awfully great so he’s not sure what you were talking about—and then you start giggling. nearly uncontrollable.
“kid, that’s twice now you’ve done that-”
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry jack,” you plead, trying to keep a straight face but being unable to stop laughing. “i can’t believe this is how we’re saying i love you to each other-”
“you’re the one who wanted to date your attending-”
you burst into another fit of giggles, which jack effectively silences by kissing you again.
“one day,” jack starts, tugging your underwear down until it’s discarded somewhere by your feet, or maybe somewhere on the floor next to your clothes. “i’ll get to take my time with you again.”
that sentence leaving jack’s mouth makes your entire body tense up, a flood of want washing over you until you feel loopy.
you pull him in for another kiss, and you feel him against you, memories of the first time he stretched you out on his fingers running through your mind. you two don’t have enough time for that today, and you both know it, but it still makes your cunt throb with anticipation.
jack lines himself up against you, running his thick tip over your opening, collecting wetness and making pleasure course through your body when he bumps against your clit. it’s electric—like a live wire hitting your nerves and making everything feel like lightening.
your limbs already feel like jelly, and you let jack maneuver your legs up onto his shoulders, watching him while he looks down at where you two are connected.
he pushes inside and you moan—loudly and unfiltered—feeling that ridiculously amazing stretch again, your toes curling and every muscle tensing. jack leans in to kiss you and swallow the noises you make, but you still think it might not be enough.
when he pushes all the way in, your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head.
“i’m sorry, kid, we can’t be loud,” he breathes, followed by a groan. he uses his hand to cover your mouth, pulling out and then thrusting back in all at once. the bed creaks as jack starts fucking you with an intense rhythm, the thin wooden frame hitting against the wall repetitively.
you lock eyes with jack, moaning against his hand, feeling how big he is like it’s the first time all over again.
every ridge and vein makes you see stars while you focus on how full you feel—full of jack, how you want stay like this forever if he’ll let you—in a tiny on call room with the door locked and people looking for the two of you.
you repeat it against his palm—jack, jack, jack—while he keeps fucking you with an intensity that makes the coil in your belly keep tightening. he’s so deep inside of you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk after this, let alone finish your shift, but the thought drifts somewhere far away when he changes the angle slightly.
jack pushes his hand against your lower belly and thrusts back into you, while your back arches and tries to fight him. maybe you’re trying to get away from how good it feels, that overwhelming sensation that the ground is about to give out beneath the two of you. you stare up at jack through teary eyes, taking in how he looks hovering over you, taking care of you and watching out for you and thinking about you first like he always does.
and then it happens, the hot sensation in your belly tenses, and then snaps, and it washes over you like a current. you feel it—the ringing in your ears feels like it’s making its way through your entire body and your walls clench and pulse around jack’s girth.
your eyes snap shut but when they open, you keep looking up at jack, finally forcing his hand away from your mouth.
“jack,” you get out, your throat dry and sore and lips aching. “i love you too-”
you hear jack groan, a noise that makes your walls flutter, and then you feel it again—jack’s hips stuttering, his grip on you tightening, and then warmth filling you, hot streams of cum coating your walls until it’s leaking out of you.
you take deep breaths, head hitting the pillow while jack collapses on top of you, and then rolls over until he’s beside you.
the room is silent besides the two of you breathing, until of course, you speak up.
“i can’t believe this is how we said i love you.”
“you already said that, kid.”
“i know. i just really can’t believe it. i figured it would at least be outside of the hospital, but, i guess that wouldn’t feel right.”
“sweetheart-”
“am i doing it again? the not knowing when to be quiet thing?”
“no, but i-”
“wait,” you cry out, sitting up immediately. “what time is it? oh my god-”
“don’t worry about that right now. i gotta get you cleaned up before-”
“jack, i have never been late for a shift before.” you sigh dramatically before you keep going. “i just knew it. this relationship is completely affecting my medical education-”
jack shuts you up with a kiss before you can finish the sentence, capturing your laugh against his mouth.
he starts making half a plan in his head, though what he wants to do is take you home with him right now.
“i think i’m ready for you to be back on nights now.”
“yeah? why’s that?”
“because at least we can sleep next to each other if you-”
“jack!” he hears robby’s voice shouting from the other side of the door, followed by three pounds that rattle the wood. “do not tell me that my intern is in there.”
“fuck,” jack whispers, while you stare at him with wide eyes.
“what should we do?” you mouth, while jack gets up, finding your scrubs and pocketing your underwear while he pulls on his own clothes.
“stay in here,” he tells you quietly. “just take your time.”
“okay,” you whisper back, leaning in for another kiss with a smile. “i love you.”
“i love you too.”
jack pulls on his shirt and unlocks the door, closing it quickly behind him as he steps out to meet robby on the other side.
“you’re kidding me, right?”
“i can explain, robby. we-”
“i don’t want to hear it. the on-call room? that’s disgusting, you know.”
“robby, i-”
“go talk to hr before gloria gets on my ass about this.” robby walks away, shaking his head.
you open the door, poking your head out, and jack turns back to look at you.
“gosh. i sure hope hr doesn't think you’re interfering with my medical education-”
I can't keep falling in love with men who aren't real, but GAWDDAMN this did it for me! Let me gets my hands on Dr Jack Abbot, I'm setting society back a couple years with my actions.
jack’s running late for work. he should’ve left ten minutes ago, but a couple shifts with the SWAT unit have caught up with him and he snoozed his alarm more times than he would’ve liked. he’s just about to grab his keys and run out of the door when you enter your shared apartment, the pout on your lips making him stop in his tracks.
“you okay, honey?” he asks softly, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door so he can cup your face in his large hands and bring you into him.
“shitty day,” you sound close to tears and it makes jack hold you tighter. “hey, what time is it? shouldn’t you be gone already?”
“i have a second to hold my girl.”
you melt into his arms, and with zero hesitation he shoots robby a text that he isn’t gonna make it in today.
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
dailybridgerton
stormborns
