synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differ.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years, really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
Samira Mohan is the best girlfriend you've ever had
there's just one problem....
Samira mewls underneath you, thrusting her cunt against your hand. You have her dress hiked up against over her hips. Your fingers have been teasing her clit through the fabric of her lace panties, kissing her neck.
Her leg wraps fall open for you, one leg wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to her. You scrape your teeth along her neck, smirking against her skin when you pull and utterly desperate moan from her.
"C'mon, I'm ready," she whines, mouth agape and panting."
"Yeah?" you ask, a little breathless, "I'll make you cum and then you can get the strap?"
Samira freezes underneath you, "Why would I get-get it? Don't you have one."
You would think her shyness towards the word was endearing, if the meaning behind her words didn't have potentially catastrophic outcomes.
"Why would I have one? I thought you were gonna top?"
"Why would I top?" her brows furrow, "I thought that's why we were meeting here tonight? So you didn't have to bring it with you to the restaurant."
"I've never topped in my life?"
"You were just fingering me!"
"Yeah I wanted to get you off so you'd feel good and then fuck me through the mattress," your head falls back a groan.
The straps of her dress have fallen down her shoulders, exposing the deep bronze of her skin glining in the warm light of your bedroom. Her curls splay out around her face on the pillows, framing her slight pout. You can't resist, dipping your head down to nip at her bottom lip before kissing her again. She sighs contently against you.
"I still wanna have sex with you," you say, letting your forehead rest against hers, "If you still want me."
"Of course I do," she responds, tipping her head up to press her lips yto yours once more, "But what are we supposed to do now?"
"I didn't think you were so heteronormative, Samira."
Moments later you're both naked. Samira's legs are tangled together with yours, difficult to discern where her body ends and yours begins. You lean forward, hand braced on the headboard, as you move your hips forward, pussy sliding against Samiras. You shiver, pussy clenching as little shocks of pleasure roll through your body with every thrust.
Underneath you Samira gasps, "More."
"Gimme a second, baby," you reach between your bodies, pulling back the hood of her clit to expose her little bundle of nerves, "Feel better, pretty?"
Her response ia a moan, head thrown back in ectasy. You reach down, rolling her nipple between your fingers. She shudders, body convulsing underneath you as you conitinue you to slide your bodies together.
You lean down, coaxing her bottom lip from between her teeth so you can suck it into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy - if it can even really be called that. It devolves into you and Samira panting into each others open mouths while you rut against each other.
You never would have guessed that Samira was a screamer but her little shouts start to get louder. Ah, ah, ah punched out of her lunges with each thrust of your hips. You can feel her cunt throb against yours as she cums, spurring you on. It's not long before you follow, collapsing on top of her with shout.
Later, you're pressed up against Samira's back, kissing her shoulder. Your laptop is proped up on the pillow next to you as you two scroll through the various listings of dual sided dildos.
season 3 opens. baran al-hashimi is in a coma from the car crash she was in on her way home after season 2. victoria javadi comes down alongside caleb jefferson for a psych consult. he asks her three question and she answers all of them wrong. trinity santos suspects all her patients are abuse victims and is proven wrong every single time. mel and trinity communicate perfectly without a single misunderstanding. dennis whitaker is a senior resident for some reason. perlah and princess, it's explained in one line by james ogilvie who's the new ed intern, both quit. jack abbot is in every single episode because they needed a second attending for the shift after baran fell into that pesky coma. in the last episode he changes into his streetwear. he's wearing a blue lives matter shirt. frank langdon accidentally shuts down pittsburgh's electrical grid because he was trying to turn down the lights for an autistic patient. cassie mckay's every line starts with, "my son." parker ellis spends the whole season looking directly into the camera and explaining what characters really meant when they said that thing and don't worry, they all love each other.
