summary: Just some nsfw ABC headcanons for our favorite doctor! (female reader)
barista's note: I haven't come across one of these for Jack yet, and I've always wanted to write one of these, so I thought I'd take a stab at it! Of course, these are my own personal HCs for him, but I'd love to hear what you guys think if you have other ideas!
ingredients: 18+, implied age gap, workplace relationship w/ power dynamic, mentions of choking, f! and m! oral receiving, p in v, self pleasure, it's nsfw headcanons, so proceed with caution LOL
drink size: 2353 words
A = Aftercare
It’s no surprise that Jack is an aftercare king. He’s made his life’s calling caring for others, and obviously, that extends to his lady. Jack is quick to make sure you’re okay, praising how well you did for him, and asking if there’s anything you need.
By default, he’s always running off to get you both some water and to start up the shower. He insists you shower first, and that he’ll hop in when you’re done, but he almost always ends up joining you, making great use of his shower chair for a round two.
B = Body part
On himself: His chest and biceps. Jack loves the way you run your hands up and down his stomach and plant kisses down to his naval and happy trail. He also loves it when you kiss and lightly bite on his biceps. Though he was extremely confused the one time you asked if you could eat a piece of sushi off his flexed muscle for a TikTok video.
“Trust me! It’ll look hot!”
“Oh…kay?” He knows better than to question your antics. As long as you’re happy, he’s willing to oblige.
On you: Your thighs. He loves squeezing them, kissing them, biting them, and there’s no better feeling than your thighs wrapped around his head while he eats you out.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Jack loves to cum on your face. It feels so immature at first, and he worries it’s degrading for you. But then you’re on your knees, taking him in your mouth and looking up at him with your eyes full of lust.
You know Jack’s body so well that you know when he’s about to cum, so you pull back and open your mouth wide, tongue out, eyes closed, beckoning him to ruin your face. He can’t help but give you what you’re so clearly asking for.
Jack thinks you look so cute trying to lick the excess off your face, and he’s quick to get you a towel to clean you up.
D = Dirty secret
Jack relieved himself to you once in the bathroom at work. He couldn’t help it; you handled a difficult procedure so easily and so confidently. It was incredibly sexy. Jack’s only options were to either take care of himself in a bathroom stall or cream directly into his pants only two hours into his shift. He felt pretty ridiculous afterwards, reminding himself that he’s a grown man, not some horny teenager who can’t control his emotions. He made sure it never happened again, and never mentioned it to you, but he did silently reward you that night in bed for bringing that out of him.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Jack definitely knows what he’s doing, although it's been a while since he’s had someone to share his experience with, so he’s gotten a little rusty over the years.
That’s where you come in - keeping Jack on his toes and introducing him to new things he would have never thought of on his own.
You both learn from each other and draw on your individual experiences to create something beautiful together.
F = Favorite position
Seated cowgirl on the couch - it’s an easy position for Jack, since it’s one he can do without his prosthetic leg. It also feels incredible, especially after a long day in the ER when Jack is feeling particularly spent.
“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you.” You say as you seat yourself in his lap and slide down on his cock. He throws his head back at the first roll of your hips and melts into you while you ride him.
Reverse cowgirl in bed - same idea as traditional cowgirl, but Jack gets the bonuses of watching your ass bounce and giving your cheeks the occasional light smack.
Sideways - another position that’s easy for Jack. It’s also incredibly intimate for you both. Jack will nuzzle into your neck and pull you flush to his chest before lifting your thigh in the air to slide even deeper into you.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Jack is more serious than goofy during sex. He wants you both fully immersed in the moment. But as soon as you’re finished, when you’re snuggling and coming down from your highs, he’s doing whatever he can to make you laugh and smile, telling jokes and being silly.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
The carpet definitely matches his salt-and-pepper drapes that you love so much. You also love how he keeps it bushy down there. It adds to his rugged, manly look that made you fall for him in the first place.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Jack wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a hopeless romantic, but he does crank up the romance in bed - kisses, soft caresses of your hair and skin, anything in the moment to showcase how much he adores you.
Especially praise - Jack loves to tell you how beautiful you are and how well you’re taking him. He also loves calling you a good girl, knowing full well that the pet name sends you rushing towards an orgasm.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Jack loves partaking in some mutual masturbation with you. The first time you suggested it, Jack was a little hesitant, never having done something like this before. But after a few minutes, Jack was hooked. Watching you gently rub your clit, while your eyes stayed glued to Jack’s cock in his hand, was a gorgeous sight. Now it’s a regular occurrence, especially when you’re both too tired after the workday for more physical activities.
K = Kinks
Choking - Jack loves the way your eyes roll back when his hand wraps around your throat. Being a doctor, he knows exactly the amount of time and pressure it would take for it to start getting dangerous, and he makes sure he strays far away from that threshold. Your strained gasps sound like music to his ears, and it's one of the quickest ways to have you throbbing around him.
When you wear his stuff - Whether you’re wearing his shirt to bed, his dog tags, his hoodie when you’re cold, whatever - Jack loves seeing you wear his things. It’s a reminder that you’re his and only his.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Jack is pretty basic when it comes to his favorite locations, usually the couch or the bed, though you have fucked on the kitchen counter before when everything else was just too far away for how desperate you both were.
As previously mentioned, Jack’s shower chair has proven incredibly useful for sex and often becomes the spot for round two, though you try to be mindful not to accidentally break the chair.
One time while on vacation, you and Jack discovered that your hotel shower had a seat built into the shower tile. You made some great use of that seat, having zero worries about potentially breaking it, and it made Jack start wondering if he could renovate his shower to have one, but still get his security deposit back.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Domestication - Jack’s life hasn’t been calm or normal in a long time, so any kind of normalcy with you is incredibly exciting. Simple tasks like grocery shopping or cleaning up around the house leave him aching for you, and it takes everything in his power not to drop the vacuum in his hands and bend you over the kitchen counter you just wiped down.
Your success - As mentioned in the dirty secret HC, watching you succeed at something leaves Jack incredibly proud of you, and desperate for you. Could be something as simple as mastering a cooking recipe you’ve been trying to perfect or completing a difficult procedure at work. Jack sees so much potential in you and loves seeing you reach that potential.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Jack would never do anything with you at work. Not even a quickie in a supply closet, not even when you’ve left him with a boner after completing a difficult procedure with precision. It’s not worth the risk of exposing your relationship and you losing your job. He’s more than willing to wait until your shift ends so he can have you without worry.
O = Oral
Jack was pretty nervous the first time you sank to your knees in front of him, worried his prosthetic leg would scare you off. Now it’s one of his favorite ways to de-stress.
Jack also loves to return the favor, especially when his body has betrayed him and he can’t keep up with you. He encourages you to sit on his face, and revels in the way he can break you down with just a few swipes of his tongue.
P = Pace
Jack enjoys being rough with you, but his preference is going nice and slow. You’ve been a welcome change in his life, a light when his world is dark. Jack can’t picture life without you, and he’s committed to savoring every beautiful second with you, including when he’s deep inside of you.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Jack loves squeezing in a quickie before work. It gives him the energy he needs to get through his shift and has him walking into the ER with a pep in his step.
If you’re about to head out for a girl’s night, he’ll insist on some quick fun before you go. It’s kind of cute how flustered you get as you fix your hair in the mirror, trying to make sure your friends can’t tell you had your world rocked before coming out tonight.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Jack is more than willing to experiment with anything you suggest, and more than willing to immediately stop anything that isn’t making you feel incredible. He’s extremely committed to your pleasure.
Jack refuses to budge on his “no fooling around at work” stance, but he’s still willing to be a little risky with you, and has no issue fooling around in the car in an empty parking lot, or letting his hand find your inner thigh under the table when you’re out to dinner with friends.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
The years of stress on Jack’s body plus his age usually leave him tapping out sooner than either of you would like. But you’re more than willing to accommodate him by riding him or switching to oral. You’ve become an expert in finding ways to keep the fun going while keeping Jack’s efforts to a minimum.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Jack is an old-fashioned guy and doesn’t see the need for toys. He’s pretty confident in his abilities to get you off with just his fingers. Though he definitely doesn’t mind when you put on a show for him with your vibrator wand.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Jack is a HUGE tease! He’ll be massaging your clit, your orgasm seconds away from hitting, only to pull away at the last second.
“Come on baby, you gotta work for it! Tell me how bad you want me to touch you.”
He won’t touch you again until you’ve begged and pleaded to his satisfaction, all the while caressing your thighs and bringing his fingers close enough where you think he’s giving in to you, only to pull away once again.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Jack is definitely noisy - sighs, grunts, and moans all leave his lips, making you melt.
His sounds are always intercut with praises for you. Besides your favorite praise of “good girl”, he lets out plenty of “just like that, baby”s and “atta girl”s.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Jack loves it when you go full bush. Obviously, he supports whatever you choose to do with your body hair, but he finds it incredibly sexy when you let it grow out and loves it when he gets to bury his face in those soft curls. Jack also loves it when he can see the hair on your bikini line poking out from the sides of your panties if you’re walking around the apartment pantsless.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Average length but THICK and girthy, with a thick protruding vein. As mentioned, his hair is a bit unkempt, but you love feeling it brush against your nose as you take him as far back as your throat will allow and then some.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Not since his late wife has Jack felt so strongly about someone. Sure, he went on a few dates, had some lovely evenings with lovely women, but nothing has come close to the feeling of when he’s with you. You make him feel young again. Hopeful again. He can’t help but want to ravish you every time he looks at you, even when his body can’t keep up with his desires. All Jack does is yearn for you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Jack usually struggles to fall asleep thanks to the insomnia he developed during his time in the military. And even if he could sleep easily, he refuses to until you have. Your slow breathing as you drift off to sleep regulates his nervous system, allowing him to relax enough that he quickly joins you soon after.
My Headcanons of Javadi being Mohabbot’s practice child
-Victoria will go shopping and then do a haul for Jack. He complains every time but sits and listens.
- If the three of them ever go out to eat it’s because Victoria picked the place, the other two don’t have a say.
- Victoria constantly teases Jack about how he hasn’t proposed yet.
- Victoria will let people believe that Samira and Jack are her parents in public despite the weird looks they get (Jack has told her to please stop numerous times).
- First time she went to a party with college friends, Samira tracked her location the whole night. Jack had to convince her to put down the phone, and trust the poor girl.
- Victoria will rant to Samira about her texts with Mateo, Jack will always ask them not to do it front of him because he really doesn’t want to know his staff’s love life.
- She calls Samira when she’s bored. Samira uses Victoria’s calls as a podcast as she does chores.
- When Jack and Samira go on date nights, they both find each other saying ‘Oh Vic, would love this’. And immediately take a picture so they can show her later.
- When Victoria has a terrible days and just needs to cry, if anyone asks what will help she’ll say ‘I want my mom’ and then call Samira.
sooooooo i fucked up , pov you reenter the hindi song era just from one song , it has been a while and the songs that i have heard till yet are teri deewani , raabta , aawari ., channa ve , tu chahiye , kabira ...........lets just say i may have imagined the pott characters with a child they care about on bed as they are critically injured , and the pitt charater is .........almost preying .# jack abbott # robby # oc
if yall still don’t believe they cut samiras scenes in the ep following the announcements of her departure/that her leaving was not just a “story driven decision” take a look at this interview where suprita literally describes a moment in ep 13 where she leaves the hospital and breaks down. she additionally describes even more scenes in ep 14 that she would be in.
nobody can convince me that she wasn’t straight up fired when all evidence points to an unfinished arc and showrunners who care more about whitaker and langdon fighting for some fucking reason than someone who they literally have been setting up to be integral to the season.
Abbott: "Mr. Six Foot Tall Scared Of Rollercoasters, the patient has a —"
The entire team standing there watching like a tennis match.
Nobody intervenes.
This is above their pay grade.
Someone paging Abbott overhead:
"Dr. Abbott to trauma bay 2."
Robby, quietly, to nobody:
"Mr. Can't Keep It In His Pants to trauma bay 2."
Whittaker, who is right next to him, loses it completely.
4pm.
The C-section is a distant memory. The baby is healthy. The mother is recovering. Nobody has apologized for anything.
Robby is at the nurses station writing notes with the focused energy of a man trying to seem busy so nobody talks to him.
It's not working.
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep."
"Mr. Can't Keep It In His Pants," Robby says automatically, without looking up.
Abbott sets a coffee down next to him. Sits. Opens his own chart.
They work in silence for approximately four minutes.
The longest peace has lasted all day.
Then Abbott says, very casually, the way you mention the weather:
"You know what I keep thinking about."
"Don't."
"That thing you said. About Mohan."
Robby's pen stops.
"The panic attack," Abbott continues, turning a page. "The mommy issues comment."
"That was a clinical observation —"
"Robby."
"She was —"
"Robby."
Silence.
Abbott doesn't look up from his chart.
"Took me a while to place it," he says conversationally. "Why it stuck with me. And then I thought about it." He turns another page. "Hm."
"Hm," Robby repeats flatly.
"Hm," Abbott confirms.
More silence.
"I'm not —" Robby starts.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were implying —"
"I was saying hm —"
"That was a LOADED hm —"
"I just think it's interesting," Abbott says, still not looking up, with the energy of a man completely at peace with everything he is about to say, "that you watched a brilliant young woman have a panic attack about feeling unseen and underestimated and not enough and your first instinct was mommy issues."
Robby says nothing.
"And then went on sabbatical," Abbott adds.
The nurses station is very quiet.
"Mr. Gay Awakening At 55," Robby says.
It comes out weaker than usual.
"Sure," Abbott says agreeably.
He closes his chart. Picks up his coffee. Stands.
"My therapist has a colleague," he says. "Good one. Takes new patients."
He starts walking.
"Her name's not Gerald either," he adds, without turning around.
Robby sits there.
Alone at the nurses station.
With his cold coffee and his unfinished notes and the very specific feeling of a man who has just been taken completely apart by someone who did it quietly and without apparent effort and is now walking away to go home to Butterscotch.
From somewhere down the hall:
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep."
Robby puts his face in his hands.
Whittaker comes back to the nurses station ten minutes later for a chart.
Stops.
Looks at Robby.
Robby has not moved.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"You've been staring at the same note for —"
"Fine, Whittaker."
Whittaker looks at him for a second. Then sits on the edge of the desk.
"Abbott got you bad huh."
Robby says nothing.
Which is an answer.
"The Mohan thing?"
Robby's pen moves slightly.
"...he mentioned it."
"Yeah." Whittaker is quiet for a second. "For what it's worth I didn't totally follow —"
"Good."
"— but Melissa made a face so."
Robby closes his eyes.
"Great."
They sit in silence for a moment.
Then Whittaker, gently, because he is Trinity's boy bestie and he came before Garcia and he has a heart under all the chaos:
"Hey Robby."
"What."
"Your bike's been outside since this morning."
Robby lifts his head.
Stares at Whittaker.
"...what?"
"Yeah Matao mentioned it like four hours ago. Said it looked like it rolled. It's just. In the middle of the lot."
Robby stands up so fast his chair moves.
"WHY DIDN'T ANYONE —"
"WE WERE BUSY WITH THE C-SECTION AND THEN YOU AND ABBOTT WERE —"
"THAT'S MY BIKE —"
"IT'S PROBABLY FINE —"
Robby is already walking. Fast. The way he walks when he's trying not to run.
Whittaker watches him go.
Then, to nobody:
"Should I have told him earlier."
Matao appears from around the corner.
Looks at Whittaker.
"I told you four hours ago," Matao says.
"I know."
"You were standing right there."
"I KNOW."
"How do you forget a bike —"
"WE WERE HAVING A MOMENT —"
Matao looks down the hallway where Robby disappeared.
Follows.
The bike is not okay.
It's not dramatically destroyed. It's not on fire. It's just —
Tipped over. Handlebar bent slightly. One mirror hanging at a deeply wrong angle. A tire that has given up on life philosophically.
Robby crouches down next to it.
Just. Looks at it.
Matao appears behind him. Because Matao has been everywhere today. Witnessing everything. Saying very little.
"Hey."
"Hey," Robby says quietly.
"Found it like this around —"
"Around 10am yeah."
Matao pauses.
"...Whittaker told you."
"Whittaker told me JUST NOW —"
"I told Whittaker at —"
"I KNOW WHEN YOU TOLD WHITTAKER —"
They stand there.
Robby looking at his bike.
Matao looking at Robby looking at his bike.
"Abbott knew," Robby says. Not a question.
Matao says nothing.
Which is an answer.
Robby nods slowly. The nod of a man assembling a picture he really wishes he wasn't assembling.
Abbott came to the nurses station.
Set down a coffee.
Dismantled his entire psychological infrastructure quietly and without apparent effort.
Mentioned the therapist.
Made the Gerald callback.
Said Mr. Doesn't Sleep.
And walked away knowing the bike was in the parking lot.
"He walked past it this morning," Matao offers carefully.
"Did he."
"On his way in."
"Great."
"He may have. Looked at it."
"Matao."
"And kept walking —"
Robby stands up.
Looks at the bent mirror.
Looks at the philosophically defeated tire.
"That was a message," Robby says.
Matao very carefully does not agree or disagree.
"That was him SAYING —" Robby gestures. "THAT WAS HIM SAYING —"
"I think technically he didn't say anything —"
"THAT'S THE POINT —"
Matao puts his hands in his pockets.
Looks at the bike.
Looks at Robby.
"...you gonna call the therapist?"
Robby looks at him.
Long pause.
"Her name's not Gerald," Robby says finally.
Matao blinks.
"...what?"
"Nothing."
Robby crouches back down next to his bike.
The parking lot is quiet.
Somewhere inside the hospital the most annoyingly well adjusted man in Pittsburgh is going home to Butterscotch.
Completely at peace.
Three weeks later.
"He broke my bike."
Abbott, not looking up from his chart:
"I didn't break your bike."
"YOU LEFT IT —"
"The parking lot broke your bike —"
"YOU KNEW —"
"I observed a situation and made a clinical decision not to intervene —"
"THAT IS THE SAME THING —"
Abbott puts down his pen. Looks up. Makes direct eye contact.
"Did you call the therapist."
Robby opens his mouth.
Closes it.
"...that's not —"
"Did you call her."
Silence.
Abbott picks his pen back up.
"Then the bike was worth it," he says simply.
That evening, end of shift, Abbott coat on, charts done, heading for the door.
He passes Robby at the nurses station.
Still there.
Still writing.
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep," Abbott says.
Not as a weapon this time.
Just. A reminder. A worry. A please.
He doesn't wait for a response.
He goes home to Butterscotch.
Robby sits there for a long moment.
Then he picks up his phone.
Looks at the number Abbott's therapist's colleague.
Puts it down.
Picks it up again.
Outside in the parking lot his bike sits with its bent mirror and its philosophically defeated tire.
Abbott: "Mr. Six Foot Tall Scared Of Rollercoasters, the patient has a —"
The entire team standing there watching like a tennis match.
Nobody intervenes.
This is above their pay grade.
Someone paging Abbott overhead:
"Dr. Abbott to trauma bay 2."
Robby, quietly, to nobody:
"Mr. Can't Keep It In His Pants to trauma bay 2."
Whittaker, who is right next to him, loses it completely.
4pm.
The C-section is a distant memory. The baby is healthy. The mother is recovering. Nobody has apologized for anything.
Robby is at the nurses station writing notes with the focused energy of a man trying to seem busy so nobody talks to him.
It's not working.
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep."
"Mr. Can't Keep It In His Pants," Robby says automatically, without looking up.
Abbott sets a coffee down next to him. Sits. Opens his own chart.
They work in silence for approximately four minutes.
The longest peace has lasted all day.
Then Abbott says, very casually, the way you mention the weather:
"You know what I keep thinking about."
"Don't."
"That thing you said. About Mohan."
Robby's pen stops.
"The panic attack," Abbott continues, turning a page. "The mommy issues comment."
"That was a clinical observation —"
"Robby."
"She was —"
"Robby."
Silence.
Abbott doesn't look up from his chart.
"Took me a while to place it," he says conversationally. "Why it stuck with me. And then I thought about it." He turns another page. "Hm."
"Hm," Robby repeats flatly.
"Hm," Abbott confirms.
More silence.
"I'm not —" Robby starts.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were implying —"
"I was saying hm —"
"That was a LOADED hm —"
"I just think it's interesting," Abbott says, still not looking up, with the energy of a man completely at peace with everything he is about to say, "that you watched a brilliant young woman have a panic attack about feeling unseen and underestimated and not enough and your first instinct was mommy issues."
Robby says nothing.
"And then went on sabbatical," Abbott adds.
The nurses station is very quiet.
"Mr. Gay Awakening At 55," Robby says.
It comes out weaker than usual.
"Sure," Abbott says agreeably.
He closes his chart. Picks up his coffee. Stands.
"My therapist has a colleague," he says. "Good one. Takes new patients."
He starts walking.
"Her name's not Gerald either," he adds, without turning around.
Robby sits there.
Alone at the nurses station.
With his cold coffee and his unfinished notes and the very specific feeling of a man who has just been taken completely apart by someone who did it quietly and without apparent effort and is now walking away to go home to Butterscotch.
From somewhere down the hall:
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep."
Robby puts his face in his hands.
Whittaker comes back to the nurses station ten minutes later for a chart.
Stops.
Looks at Robby.
Robby has not moved.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"You've been staring at the same note for —"
"Fine, Whittaker."
Whittaker looks at him for a second. Then sits on the edge of the desk.
"Abbott got you bad huh."
Robby says nothing.
Which is an answer.
"The Mohan thing?"
Robby's pen moves slightly.
"...he mentioned it."
"Yeah." Whittaker is quiet for a second. "For what it's worth I didn't totally follow —"
"Good."
"— but Melissa made a face so."
Robby closes his eyes.
"Great."
They sit in silence for a moment.
Then Whittaker, gently, because he is Trinity's boy bestie and he came before Garcia and he has a heart under all the chaos:
"Hey Robby."
"What."
"Your bike's been outside since this morning."
Robby lifts his head.
Stares at Whittaker.
"...what?"
"Yeah Matao mentioned it like four hours ago. Said it looked like it rolled. It's just. In the middle of the lot."
Robby stands up so fast his chair moves.
"WHY DIDN'T ANYONE —"
"WE WERE BUSY WITH THE C-SECTION AND THEN YOU AND ABBOTT WERE —"
"THAT'S MY BIKE —"
"IT'S PROBABLY FINE —"
Robby is already walking. Fast. The way he walks when he's trying not to run.
Whittaker watches him go.
Then, to nobody:
"Should I have told him earlier."
Matao appears from around the corner.
Looks at Whittaker.
"I told you four hours ago," Matao says.
"I know."
"You were standing right there."
"I KNOW."
"How do you forget a bike —"
"WE WERE HAVING A MOMENT —"
Matao looks down the hallway where Robby disappeared.
Follows.
The bike is not okay.
It's not dramatically destroyed. It's not on fire. It's just —
Tipped over. Handlebar bent slightly. One mirror hanging at a deeply wrong angle. A tire that has given up on life philosophically.
Robby crouches down next to it.
Just. Looks at it.
Matao appears behind him. Because Matao has been everywhere today. Witnessing everything. Saying very little.
"Hey."
"Hey," Robby says quietly.
"Found it like this around —"
"Around 10am yeah."
Matao pauses.
"...Whittaker told you."
"Whittaker told me JUST NOW —"
"I told Whittaker at —"
"I KNOW WHEN YOU TOLD WHITTAKER —"
They stand there.
Robby looking at his bike.
Matao looking at Robby looking at his bike.
"Abbott knew," Robby says. Not a question.
Matao says nothing.
Which is an answer.
Robby nods slowly. The nod of a man assembling a picture he really wishes he wasn't assembling.
Abbott came to the nurses station.
Set down a coffee.
Dismantled his entire psychological infrastructure quietly and without apparent effort.
Mentioned the therapist.
Made the Gerald callback.
Said Mr. Doesn't Sleep.
And walked away knowing the bike was in the parking lot.
"He walked past it this morning," Matao offers carefully.
"Did he."
"On his way in."
"Great."
"He may have. Looked at it."
"Matao."
"And kept walking —"
Robby stands up.
Looks at the bent mirror.
Looks at the philosophically defeated tire.
"That was a message," Robby says.
Matao very carefully does not agree or disagree.
"That was him SAYING —" Robby gestures. "THAT WAS HIM SAYING —"
"I think technically he didn't say anything —"
"THAT'S THE POINT —"
Matao puts his hands in his pockets.
Looks at the bike.
Looks at Robby.
"...you gonna call the therapist?"
Robby looks at him.
Long pause.
"Her name's not Gerald," Robby says finally.
Matao blinks.
"...what?"
"Nothing."
Robby crouches back down next to his bike.
The parking lot is quiet.
Somewhere inside the hospital the most annoyingly well adjusted man in Pittsburgh is going home to Butterscotch.
Completely at peace.
Three weeks later.
"He broke my bike."
Abbott, not looking up from his chart:
"I didn't break your bike."
"YOU LEFT IT —"
"The parking lot broke your bike —"
"YOU KNEW —"
"I observed a situation and made a clinical decision not to intervene —"
"THAT IS THE SAME THING —"
Abbott puts down his pen. Looks up. Makes direct eye contact.
"Did you call the therapist."
Robby opens his mouth.
Closes it.
"...that's not —"
"Did you call her."
Silence.
Abbott picks his pen back up.
"Then the bike was worth it," he says simply.
That evening, end of shift, Abbott coat on, charts done, heading for the door.
He passes Robby at the nurses station.
Still there.
Still writing.
"Mr. Doesn't Sleep," Abbott says.
Not as a weapon this time.
Just. A reminder. A worry. A please.
He doesn't wait for a response.
He goes home to Butterscotch.
Robby sits there for a long moment.
Then he picks up his phone.
Looks at the number Abbott's therapist's colleague.
Puts it down.
Picks it up again.
Outside in the parking lot his bike sits with its bent mirror and its philosophically defeated tire.
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