Masterlist

masterlist

Updated: 1/3/23

Jax Teller

x Dolly Dawson (F!OC)

In timeline order

Complicated

Corrupt Me

Save A Horse

Hometown Story

Road Rule

Chibs Telford:

x Ellie Drysdale/Telford (F!OC)

In timeline order

Welcome to Charming

Scars

Bad Girl

Atonement

Going to the Chapel

Mouthy Ma

Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Late Night

Boom

Calendar

Miss June

Sunday Morning

Missing Goddess

The Abbot Family - Pittfest Part 1

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbot x Wife!Reader (romantic) Genre: Word Count: 454

Warnings: Canon typical blood/gore/violence, hospital show drama, mass shooting, death, gun shot wounds, *Please let me know if I forgot anything

Summary: When he is at work, Dr Abbot keeps his life private, and keeps his head focused on being an attending of the Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center. No one knows what he does at home, until Pittfest happens.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this story is inspired by the TV show The Pitt and features places, plots, characters from said show.

Jack knew he had to keep working, he had to keep going. People needed him, he couldn’t be staring at his phone waiting for a phone call that may change his whole life. After his time in the army, and growing up with the dad he did, Jack knew when to compartmentalize his emotions, when to stop feeling and just do. The Pitt needed him to keep it together, patients needed him, Robby needed him, but the more pressing matter that kept him running the makeshift MASH unit was the thought: “What if?”

He shut that down before his anxiety could spike.

He moved from patient to patient, helping anyone he could, and calling times of those that he couldn’t. He saw out of the corner of his eyes Jake Malloy, and had to stop himself from running over and interrogating the boy.

“Robby asked if I could keep an eye on Jake and his girlfriend.”

When time of death was called for Leah, Jack had to remember that sometimes no news was good news. So, he kept going.

Until Dana yelled his name.

The doctor turned, pit forming in his stomach as he knew she would only be yelling at him two things: Robby and-

“Dad!” A teenage version of Jack was supporting the weight of his sister.

“Austin! Avery!” The attending’s place was taken before he could think about ordering someone to take over. Several heads had looked up when they heard their leader’s voice, and stared a moment too long when he ran to the two teenagers. Jack’s hands and eyes were looking over them both, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from, if one of them was shot.

“Some asshole pushed Avery down. Mom reset Avery’s shoulder and leg, but told us to come here.”

“Language.” Jack muttered, his heart breathed when he heard that it was just some asshole who pushed a child to the ground to escape rather than aiding the child, but his heart froze when Austin mentioned her. “Where is your mother?” Austin and Avery shared a look which never boded well for the Abbot parents. Every time that any of the children shared a look, it meant trouble. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“She sent us ahead.” Austin dug the car keys out of his pocket and handed them to his father. “She stayed behind.”

Before Jack could say anything, Avery cut in. “Daddy, it hurts.” His daughter might be in high school now, but seeing her in pain with broken bones only brought the memories of her breaking her wrist at seven when she jumped off the trampoline. That was probably the last year before she transitioned from 'daddy' to 'dad' and sometimes 'father' when he had to ground her.

“I know, sweetheart.” Her watery hazel eyes were enough to make him keep moving.

Sweet boy

Pairing: Jack Abbot x single mom! resident!reader

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified), reader‘s son plays soccer, reader feels like a bad mom, fluff mostly, implied that the kid is a matchmaker

Summary: When her son is having a rough patch, she asks her attending to come to his games, just as a temporary arrangement, of course. Though sometimes something temporary becomes normal.

Words: 4.5 k

A/N: Hey there, so this is what was voted for and I really like the way it turned out! It it rather light hearted and I really like the way it turned out. Though a quick disclaimer at this point, I have no idea what it is really like to be a single mom or a mom in genreal so please be kind in that regard. Also I might write a second part for this where reader finds out she is pregnant with Jack‘s baby and the ‚aftermath‘ of that, not sure about that though :) I still hope you enjoy this little story :D

Leaning against the nurses’ station she closed her eyes, the worry in her gut not getting better as the night wore on. It was his first sleepover and she was not happy about it, she had been reluctant about it anyways, but she knew the mother well, knew the father well and knew that there would only be three kids in total. It was safe and she knew that nothing bad could happen to him, she had slept over a ton as a kid and nothing ever happened. Still, since she had dropped him off at his best friend‘s house before she had gone to her shift the bad feeling her stomach didn‘t go away.

“You doing okay?” The voice of her attending pulled her out of her musings, he was standing closer than she had expected as she opened her eyes, feeling a slight heat rush to her face. His expression mildly worried, his salt and pepper curls slightly mussed. His stethoscope was wrapped around his neck and underneath it she could see the chain around it as well.

“Not really…” she sighed, rubbing her head, lying to him would get her nowhere, he was able to read her like an open book. “You know when you have a gut feeling that you really can’t shake?” she glanced at him with a small smile. He snorted slightly, nodding as he looked at her again. Not moving he still continued to stare at her, it was that kind of expectant stare he sometimes gave patients when they left out parts of the story they were telling.

“Yeah, definitely,” he crossed his arms across his chest, the thick forearms resting across each other. Sometimes she felt like a teenager when he was close to her, like she would start swooning after him like a lost puppy. Shaking her head slightly she tried to get that out of her head, hell he was her attending and in her eyes way out of her league.

“My son is sleeping over at a friend’s place tonight for the first time, can’t seem to shake the feeling that something terrible might happen,” she shuddered slightly as she shook her head. She knew that Abbot would probably have some wise words for her, he always did. „I sound like some kind of helicopter mom, don‘t I?“ she asked, laughing slightly as she looked at him.

„Nah,“ he shook his head, „We see shit in here people can‘t even dream of in their worst nightmares,“ he shrugged, „I think it‘s normal to be worried. And he is your first after all,“ A small smile was on his lips as he leaned against the counter.

„How did his match go, anyway?“ Abbot asked. She was slightly startled at the question, she had mentioned that her son had insisted on playing soccer this season and he had had his first match in the afternoon.

„It went well,“ she smiled, she had luckily been able to be there and cheer for him. „His team won and he put in the last goal, getting them out of the draw,“ a proud smile on her lips as she told that to Abbot. It had felt like she was watching her son in slow motion, running on his little legs with the ball in front of him, then one strong kick and he had scored the goal.

„Looks like you got a future star on your hands,“ Abbot smiled slightly as she laughed at that.

„If the love for it lasts longer than one season I actually might,“ she smiled at Abbot, trying to hide the sadness in her smile. Even if her son had played incredibly well he had still cried after the game, right after the kids had been allowed to go see their parents. All the dads had been so supportive the entire time, the mums as well, but that had not triggered her son‘s crying. It had been a conversation that they had been having for what felt like ages, on and off, even if her son was only seven, he understood the concept of not having a father or even father figure rather well. Especially since all his friends had really great and involved fathers. She knew that he was happy and that he loved her, it had alway only been them together, but apparently he was currently in a stage in life where he just wanted someone else besides her.

A sniffle left her as she realised the thought had made her cry again. Sometimes, well a lot of times, she felt like a bad mom. Due to the fact that most of her friends were either from work or her son‘s friends‘ mothers she did not know that many other single mothers. She had no advice on how to deal with these emotions and it made her feel so horrible.

„Hey, hey,“ he gently touched her shoulder, the concern in his features evident as he gently touched her shoulder.

„Gosh, sorry,“ she wiped away the tears, trying to stop the tears from falling again. A groan escaped her as she sniffled again. Suddenly her phone started buzzing in her pocket, fear shot through her as she grabbed it, holding up her hand to Abbot, her tears going dry right away as she saw the name of Josh‘s best friend‘s mother on the screen.

„Hey, is everything alright?“ she asked with panic in her voice. She knew she needed to calm down, panic wouldn‘t get her anywhere.

„Hey, yes, sorry if I am calling at a bad time.“ the voice sounded exhausted as she heard shuffling in the background.

“No! It‘s okay, I have some time on my hands right now,“ she shot Abbot an apologetic glance, though he still looked concerned at her, his hand still on her shoulder.

„Okay, I just wanted to tell you that the three of them devoured four pizzas and were knocked out afterwards, they are all sleeping right now and it looks like they are not going to get up until like at least ten tomorrow,“ Lara sounded exhausted, but she let out a sigh of relief.

„Thanks for letting me know.“ she paused. There was another pause on the other side of the line.

„Sorry, I didn‘t mean to keep you from work, have a good shift.“ Lara sounded exhausted, they quickly said their goodbyes and she hung up, letting her head fall backwards.

„Everything alright?“ he looked so concerned as he looked at her while she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

„Yeah,“ she let out a relieved laugh as she shook her head. „She just called to let me know that they are sleeping like stones and everything is alright.“

He let out a relieved sigh as well, like he had been just as worried as the phone had gone off. It made her smile slightly, Abbot had met her son a few times already, it had always been during cookouts organized by someone, mostly by either Dana or Langdon. Her son had loved Abbot from the moment her attending had introduced himself to her son. Josh became attached to Abbot like a tick the moment he spotted him in a crowd of one of the cookouts. Always dragging her mentor along to everything he wanted to do and for some reason unbeknownst to her, Abbot just let him and did his best to satisfy the whims of her son.

The thing was, that had made her crush on her attending even worse, seeing the way he treated her son made her heart swell every single time she saw them interact. Probably the worst part of it all was that she knew that this was no silly little crush anymore.

„Thank god,“ he breathed out, his head falling backwards as well. Suddenly something came to her mind, but before she could even propose the idea to Abbot Bridgit called out that a trauma was incoming.

——————

Shift change had gone smoother than usual and she was finally on her way out of the building, hoping to be able to shower before she had to pick up Josh. As she stood by the lockers she thought about the idea she had had again. Maybe it was stupid, and maybe she would overstep if she did really ask that of Abbot, but she just wanted to know if maybe there was a chance for it.

Seeing Abbot also coming her way she fished everything out of the locker, stepped back and waited for him to approach her. Usually he never used the lockers, his backpack already slung over his shoulder.

„Mind if we have a little chat before you leave?“ he asked, his brow raised in her direction.

„Not at all, I actually wanted to talk to you about something as well.“ she gave him a small smile as they began making their way towards the exit. She knew that Jack always walked, he said that it cleared his head, though she knew that he theoretically could drive.

„Are you sure you are doing okay? You know that you can talk to me if something is bothering you,“ his voice was so gentle as they stepped out of the hospital. She sighed, the crying had definitely prompted that conversation.

“Yeah, no, I know I am not doing the best,“ she answered honestly, „It‘s about Josh,“ another sigh and as she glanced to the side she could see the concerned expression of her attending.

„Is he sick?“ he asked, of course that was the first thing that came to mind, not the quick kind of sick, the occasional flu, but she knew that he meant sick. The kind of sick that could tear people apart.

„No!“ she shook her head, „He is just having a bit of a rough patch,“ she paused, cringing internally as they continued to walk towards employee parking, „He has been asking more and more about why his dad isn‘t there and why he can‘t have an awesome dad like his other friends,“ she paused, „Makes me feel like a terrible parent,“ she shuddered.

Abbot stopped walking, she also did, following his him to the side of the sidewalk. His expression was stern, but still friendly.

„You know you are not a bad mom, right?“ he paused, „That kid loves you more than anything in the world.“ Carefully he put his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing them.

„I know,“ she tried to look away, but it felt impossible to draw away from these intense eyes. „I just…sometimes I wish I could give him that role model he so desperately wants…“ she sighed, rubbing her face. This was the point where she decided to just go with it and ask, „That was actually why I wanted to talk to you,“ she sighed again, Abbot looked surprised as she said that.

„I know that this is probably very unprofessional and also overstepping boundaries, but god, Josh loves you, always talks about you and every time there is a cookout he gets so excited.“ she paused gauging the expression on Abbot‘s face, it startled her when he looked slightly flustered, „But would you mind coming to the games with me? I know that you probably have a lot of stuff to do and more things to worry about, but-„

„I would love to,“ he paused, a small smile on his lips as he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. It felt like the breath was knocked out of her lungs as she saw that sparkle in his eyes, for a moment she wasn‘t sure if it was just the light or if she could actually see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

„I would love to come,“ he repeated, again giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, again „Just tell me when and where I have to be and I will be there,“ his voice was soft as he spoke. It made her want to cry, the way he smiled at her like she had just given him the best news of his life.

„Will do,“ she smiled at him, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as well, she hated it, knowing that loving this man was probably never going to get her anywhere.

———————

Sitting in the bleachers of the small school soccer field she sighed, glancing at her phone she checked to see if Abbot had texted her that he was running late. The kids were still doing warm ups and she had hoped that he would be there before the game would start. Glancing to the side she heard soft murmurs from some of the moms from the boys on her son‘s team, they were the kind of soccer mom‘s she really did not like. The ones that looked down on her for being a single mom, like it made her a bad person. Following their eyeline she grinned, Abbot was walking towards where she was sitting, in the lower ranks so that she could keep a close eye on the game the entire time. The sight in front of her made her a little light headed, Jack Abbot in casual clothes was something she had never hoped to see and here he was. A pair of loose fitted dark blue jeans, a tight fitted t-shirt paired with a fleece jacket without a hoodie. His backpack slung over his shoulder, as he walked over to her.

„Hey!“ she grinned at him, not sure how to greet him, though that question was answered when he gave her a quick hug.

„Hey,“ he said as well, taking a seat beside her, his legs spread slightly. Before she was able to say anything she heard one of the other mom‘s say something that made her a bit prickly.

„God, what a waste,“ Karen, the epitome of said name, half shouted while glaring in her direction.

„Thanks again for coming, Abbot,“ she gave him a small smile, he just nodded, a small smile also on his lips.

„Of course, and Jack will do for now,“ he smirked slightly as she felt her face heat up at the idea of calling him by his first name.

„Alright, no last names,“ she gave him a cheeky grin, then looked at the backpack, which had been safely deposited between his legs. Suppressing her laugh she glanced at him.

„What have you got in the bag?“ she asked, nodding at the backpack, Jack hummed softly, a huff escaping him.

„Wanna have a look?“ he asked, while his eyes found her backpack as well, „Mind if I get a peek at what you got?“ a small grin on her face they exchanged backpacks.

Looking into his backpack she found an array of medical supplies, Butterfly ultrasound, neckbrace, field trach kit, tourniquet, a stethoscope, a catheter for a chest tube, syringe and a lot more.

„Came prepared, let's just hope we don‘t need any of these,“ she laughed as she placed the backpack on the ground again.

„You too,“ he nodded with a small smile on his lips.

„Looks like we came with a whole ED on our back,“ she laughed, „Still just so you know there are medics here as well,“ she paused, glancing over at the two teenagers who were the medics for the teams, „I just don‘t trust them,“ she muttered under her breath.

Jack followed her line of sight and nodded slowly as he also saw the two teenagers sitting there, glued to their phones.

„I get that,“ he hummed softly, looking over his shoulder now, she followed his gaze this time she saw Karen staring at him, her husband, Larry, sitting cluelessly beside her. „What is her deal?“ he muttered as he leaned in closer to her, his breath fanning over the side of her face.

„Just getting the newest gossip ready,“ she sighed, a small smirk on her face as she watched Josh helping one of his teammates up from the ground after the kid had tripped.

„For the Soccer moms‘ whatsapp group?“ he asked, his voice laced with amusement. A snort left her lips as she shook her head.

„Worse, the soccer moms‘ facebook group,“ at that comment Jack let out a laugh, gently nudging her with his elbow. She grinned at him, shaking her head slightly. She thought that she could get used to this, to him being around more. It was nice, having someone around that she could talk with, someone that cared for Josh.

„JACK!“ Josh‘s tiny voice pulled her out of her thoughts as she saw him barreling towards her, though he did not launch himself at her, but rather at Jack, jumping into his arms. Jack easily caught Josh, holding him close for a moment, laughing softly as her son‘s tiny hands grabbed his jacket.

„Are you here for my game?“ Josh asked, his eyes big. She felt her heart lurch slightly at the sight. Jack holding Josh, who was now half sitting on his lap, a big grin on his tiny face.

„Yeah, little champ,“ he nodded. The coach called Josh‘s name and he let go of Jack again, not saying anything he bolted back to the team. A small smile grew on her lips as she watched the new spring in Josh‘s step. For a moment there was comfortable silence between them, their shoulders and legs brushing slightly as they watched the team huddled together. Lara and her husband weren‘t there, Tom, their son had caught the flu and was now sick, she was kind of the only mother she actually knew and liked from the team.

„So, any post game traditions?“ Jack asked while they watched the kids scattering over the field, taking their positions to start the game. A snort left her lips as she glanced over at him.

„It‘s only his second game, so no,“ she gave him a small grin as they leaned back slightly.

„What about I take you guys out for some pizza?“ he asked, the tone of his voice was different, it was like there was a subtle question behind it, like he was trying to figure out how far she would let him in.

„Pizza sounds great!“ she smiled at him, feeling her face heat up again as he gave her a quick smile. „But I am paying!“ she grinned at him.

„Let's argue about that when the time comes,“ he shook his head as the whistle for the start of the game blew.

The game was good, Josh‘s team getting another win, this time her little champ had scored the first goal of the match. She and Jack had cheered loudly and for the first time it felt like she could also cheer unapologetically. The look on Josh‘s face during half time had been unforgettable and would probably be burned in her mind forever, the pure joy of seeing her and Jack and how excitedly he had told them about his thoughts during the first goal.

Now the game was over and she and Josh were packing up his things, changing from his soccer shoes to his regular trainers. Josh was babbling about how cool the move of his teammate had been when he had avoided one of the opponents. Jack was standing beside her, a proud smile on his lips. Josh looked as his hands as she was beginning to collect all their stuff.

„Mommy,“ his voice was so soft that she was barely able to even hear him as she looked up, a smile on her face.

„Yeah sweetheart?“ she smiled at him, he looked nervous, glanced at Jack then back at her.

„Can we take a picture?“ he asked softly, looking at his hands like he was asking for some kind of dangerous thing.

“Of course, sweety,“ she smiled at him, gently ruffling his hair, „Do you want a picture with all of us or just you and Jack?“ she knew that they already had a picture of just him and her, so she just assumed that he wanted a picture with Jack.

„Can we do both?“ he asked, his eyes big as he looked at her with hopeful eyes.

„Of course, darling,“ she looked at Jack who looked like he was preening at the question, a small smile on her lips she ushered Josh towards Jack, who exchanged a few hushed whispers with each other. They posed together, Jack placing his hands on Josh‘s shoulders, a proud smile on his lips, an elated expression on Josh‘s. She smiled as she took the pictures.

“Do you want me to take the other one?“ the voice of the coach came from beside her as he gave her a small smile. He was already in his sixties and such a sweetheart.

„Please!“ she handed him her phone, giving him a thankful smile, quickly she moved up to Jack and Josh who both gave her a smile. Stepping behind Josh she also placed one hand on his shoulder, suddenly she felt an arm wrap itself around her waist, a surprised expression graced her face before she also wrapped her arm around his waist as well, both of them a hand on Josh‘s shoulder. The coach grinned slightly as he took a picture.

„You want your mom and I to pick you up?“ Jack asked Josh, who grinned excitedly and nodded quickly. Together they picked up her son, squeezing him between them, all of them laughing, another picture was taken.

That evening she had sent all of the pictures to Jack. Sitting on the sofa while Josh already slept she stared at the screen, the picture of Jack and her holding Josh stared back at her, that night she decided to change the picture of herself and Josh in her background to this one.

—————-

Sitting on her sofa she glanced over at Josh who was snoring softly between her and Jack, his little body snuggled between them. It was so domestic, so normal at this point that it made her want to cry.

Jack always came for the games, always cheered Josh on, always made sure that their little champion knew how well he was doing. Meanwhile he checked in on her, made sure she was also doing alright, offered her to take a few more days off during the months so that she could relax a little. At some point it became a tradition for Jack to come back to her place after a game and pizzas, they would often watch a movie, Josh usually falling asleep within the first half hour of the movie, though they still finished watching the movie, one of them would put him to bed. It was almost like they really were a family, except that they weren‘t, not like that at least.

The tension between them had heightened. At work sometimes it felt like they were really a couple, Jack bringing her coffee, her always making sure to bring an extra bag of food, knowing that Jack often forgot. During breaks she would ask if he needed anything from the grocery store while Jack offered to watch Josh when he had a night off when she didn‘t.

The end credits played as they continued to stare at the screen, she paused the movie, then turned off the TV.

„Do you wanna put him down?“ she asked, feeling how her arm had fallen asleep from Josh sleeping on it, hit head leaning against her upper arm.

„Yeah,“ Jack‘s voice was hoarse, glancing over at him she felt a pang in her heart, realising that he was crying. She had never really seen him cry before, never seen him that emotional. She didn‘t comment on it though, just gave him time to pick up Josh and carry him towards his bedroom. Quietly she followed him, making sure that Jack didn‘t realise. Stopping in the doorway she saw how Jack tucked in Josh, gently brushing some strands of hair out of his face.

„Huh,“ a shaky sigh escaped his lips, she wanted to say something, but she simply stood there and watched, „Sweet boy,“ his voice was so gentle, as he kneeled beside Josh‘s bed. „You know, I really should have believed you when you first told me I loved your mom,“ a soft laugh came from him. He rested his arm on the mattress of her son‘s bed. „Sleep well,“

She felt her heart hammering in her chest. Her chest tightened as she watched the moment between Jack and her sleeping son. Another sigh came from Jack, she took a small step back as he got up from where he had been kneeling, gently pressing a kiss to her son‘s forehead before he turned around. His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, carefully she made room for him to walk out the room, closing the door behind him.

„I think I should be going, it‘s later than usual,“ he spoke softly as they faced each other in the hallway. The space felt crammed, with all the unsaid things between them. They surrounded them in this moment more than ever before, weighing them down, in a way pulling them together.

„Don‘t,“ she shook her head, feeling the weight that had been living in her chest since Jack had essentially become Josh‘s father figure. The weight of an unspoken truth neither of them really wanted to face, neither of them really wanted to acknowledge.

The air around them was charged, she reached out, trying to keep her hands from shaking, gently she took his. He intertwined their fingers, carefully pulling her closer to him. His free hand wrapped around her cheek, his thumb caressing her it. Moving closer he pressed his lips to hers, it felt like a current went through her body. Their lips moved against each other, wrapping her free arm around his neck she tried to pull him in even closer, to close the distance between them completely. There was a certain urgency in the kiss, they let go of each other‘s hands, his other hand went towards her waist, she wrapped her other arm around his neck as well. As they pulled away he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths intermingling.

His other hand had found her waist now, holding her close to him, the heat radiating off of him now even more comforting than when he looked over her shoulder in a trauma bay. She brushed her nose against his, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

„Are you going to tell me why you cried?“ she asked, her voice a bit lighter as she spoke, her arms slowly encircling his waist now. A low groan came from him, then a soft huff.

„I always cry at the end of The Lion King,“ he said, his voice cracking slightly, his hold on her not relenting.

„You gotta be kidding me,“ she laughed as she tilted her head back slightly.

„I‘m not,“ he looked deadly serious, though a small smile was now visible on his features.

„I am definitely going to tell Ellis about that,“ she giggled slightly as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses there.

„You are definitely not going to do that,“ he leaned his head back, letting out a small hum.

“Maybe, maybe not,“ she giggled softly as she leaned her head against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of finally being in his arms.

night vision - chapter 1

michael robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: While dr. Frank Langdon is away while seeking treatment for his drug addiction, you're plucked from the loving arms of the night shift in order to replace him inside the crushing jaws of the day shift in the Pitt. Being a nocturnal creature with a closed-off personality, it's hard to adjust at first, especially when you're no longer working alongside your mentor (and father figure of sorts), dr. Jack Abbot. However, you slowly start to grow on the day shift's attending doctor, and it's up to Robby if he'll stay away from you to protect his heart, or if he'll give in to something that's bigger than a workplace crush.

Tags: the pitt spoilers!!!, female reader-insert; jewish!reader (fyi: anyone can be jewish, and I'm planning to write the reader without any physical descriptions other than wearing glasses), age gap (reader's in her mid-20's/early 30s), slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut (minors do not interact), smoking, reader did not outgrow her goth phase, this is a shameless self-insert bc I cannot stop thinking about this old man and his sad brown eyes, not beta read (we die like leah)

wordcount: fuck me if I know but this is long

A/N: this will be a multi-chapter fic, although it will take me awhile to update it since college does not allow me to live, i.e i should be studying but here I am, writing fanfiction. hope you enjoy it!!

Apparently, being yelled at and being told to fuck off worked for Frank Langdon.

Because when Robby showed up for work after his last shift at 7 a.m, he was ambushed by Gloria and nearly dragged to a meeting between them and Langdon in her office (or the ivory tower, how Robby likes to call it: far from the masses and looking down on the lowly peasants).

Here's your second chance. 30-day inpatient treatment program, followed by random urine tests, 50 to 60 a year, followed by mandatory NA meetings three to four times a week for the first three years.

Robby had a hard time looking in Frank's eyes, but the resident knew that, in time, Michael would forgive him. He had to.

"And who's gonna cover for him while he's in the program?" Robby sighed before asking Gloria, one hand around his backpack strap, the other shoved inside the pocket of his hoodie.

"I've already asked doctor Abbot to assign one of his senior residents to the day shift for the next thirty days." Gloria answered him somewhat nonchalantly. "She'll be here within the hour."

"Great. If there's nothing else, I have to get to work." Robby looked at Gloria and Frank and decided in the last second not to be that cruel with Langdon, stopping in his tracks before turning to his senior resident.

With a huff and a nod, he added, "Frank. I... hope you get the help you need. You're a great doctor, and this is how you don't lose your license. Get better, and your work will be waiting here for you."

Langdon looked beyond exhausted. Ashamed, sad, embarrassed, if the bags under his eyes were any indication; a diametrically opposite look on the doctor who was used to be so sure of himself. He only nodded in response, not trusting his voice not to break down if he answered Robby.

"Gloria."

"Robinavitch."

The driest goodbyes were exchanged between the physician and the chief medical officer, and the elevator trip way down to the Pitt was a long one. Robby mentally counted the night shift ED staff.

Shen, Ellis, Abbot, Walsh... who the fuck was supposed to cover for Langdon?

-

The day before, 3:57pm

You felt like throwing your phone against the wall when your ringtone woke you up from the most glorious nap you've had in a long time.

"Leave me alone, old man," you sleepily answered Jack's call.

"Is that the way to talk to to your boss?", he reprimanded you, but you could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

"What do you need, Jack? Want me to come earlier?" You rubbed the sleep off your eyes, stifling a yawn. Otherwise, Jack would tease you forever.

"Actually, you're gonna take the night off. I just left a meeting with Gloria, and she needs someone to cover for one of the day shift senior residents for the next month."

Abbot could hear your unsatisfied groan.

"And it's gotta be me? Can't Shen or Parker do it?"

"You've been putting off day shifts for far too long and you know it."

"Uhhh, have I?"

"Cute. I'll see you at seven a.m. tomorrow. Rest as much as you can."

"See you tomorrow, then. Have a not so bad shift, Jack."

He hung up the phone, and your lack of further questions did not surprise him. You were notoriously known to avoid drama in your workplace like it was the plague, even though you weren't exactly antisocial. You frequently hung out with Ellis and Shen, co-workers that you actually were friends with, and Jack was something of a father figure to you since your first year as a resident in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital.

Just like him, you sported a no-nonsense workstyle, keeping your head down and doing the best you can. Abbot helped you overcome your insecurities as an ER physician, and you did not grow to be a cocky or arrogant doctor throughout the years he took you under his wing, even if you were aloof sometimes. Jack saw in you that cold precision he valued so much, and it helped you shield your mind and spirit from the devastating effects of working in an emergency room.

However, not everyone shared the same opinion as Jack regarding you. Being so closed-off compared to what's expected of a person on a team that worked so closely together, some people saw you as distant and unapproachable.

But frankly? It didn't bother you at all. You maintained a mildly decent work-life balance by embracing the "icy" persona, and while wearing nothing but black clothes and thick eyeliner on your natural resting bitch-face, you were bound to be labeled as unpleasant. But you knew that the people who mattered to you didn't think of you like that. And absolutely no one could say you were rude or impolite.

Just... professional.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed with another groan, and set the alarm on your phone for 5 a.m instead of 5 p.m.

God, tomorrow would be such a fucking bitch of a day.

-

You felt like you were jet-lagged by the time you got to the Pitt. With your usual half-empty iced latte from Dunkin' Donuts in hand, you entered your workplace knowing your circadian cicle would descend its heavenly revenge on you after working the graveyard shift for almost a year, your AirPods blaring only God knows what in order to keep you awake.

You thought it was Black Sabbath, but couldn't know for sure.

Before greeting Jack, you made a beeline to the doctor's lounge and hid a couple of Red Bull cans in the back of the refrigerator, with your name labeled on them for good measure.

You barely made it to the nurses' station before being loudly surrounded by Parker and John.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"We thought you were dead, man! Why didn't you answer the group chat?"

You cringed slightly at their approach, still half asleep, and turned off your AirPods before putting them away inside your pockets.

"I know. Abbot hates me and in order to prove it, he's demoting me to the day shift for a month", you said half-heartdly while replacing your sunglasses with your usual glasses.

"So you're the one covering for Langdon, huh?"

"Langdon?"

You made a face and your co-workers looked at each other while shrugging, clearly dissatisfied with your habit of keeping yourself out of the loop. You mostly remember Frank from your first year as a resident, immediately disliking him due to his boastful and cocky nature.

You didn't like guys who knew they were handsome.

"I don't even wanna know."

Across the nurses' station, your loud trio got Jack's attention. From his perspective, it looked like you were a kid begrudgingly going to another school across the country and your friends were sadly saying their goodbyes.

With an eyebrow raised, Abbot nodded his face in your direction, and Robby followed Jack when he approached you. Shen and Ellis nodded to you in a silent way of saying "we'll catch up with you later" before leaving you with the senior attendings.

Robby almost introduced himself to you before recalling your face.

"You're doctor, uhh..."

You gave him your last name with a grin, raising an eyebrow while looking at Jack, who almost laughed at your discomfort. Robby looked a bit sheepish for not remembering you, but you answered him in a way that conveyed no hard feelings through your tone.

However, you would remember that face even if you didn't see him for a year.

Shit, he's more gorgeous than you thought.

You schooled your countenance to the best of your abilities before focusing on Jack.

"I'll deny to anyone that I've said this, but she's one of my best residents, Robby. Take good care of her, alright?", he lightly slapped your shoulder a couple of times before making his way to the exit, and you playfully squinted your eyes while looking at him, slightly embarrassed by Abbot's praise.

Robby surprisingly raised his eyebrows for a moment before crossing his arms, studying you for a second.

Black scrubs, black shoes, black backpack, black eyeliner.

You followed your mentor with your face in order to watch him take his leave, refusing to let Robby embarrass you any further with his curious gaze.

"Talk to you later, Jack."

He nodded with another barely hidden grin on his face, and you shot a glare at him.

You were fucked and he knew it.

You stared back at Robby for a moment before he shook his face, sighing.

"I don't have to show you around, do I?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head no with a short smile.

"Not really, no."

"Great. We have about twenty five patients waiting on triage."

You nodded once more and headed to the locker room to put your backpack away and finally get ready to work the goddamn day shift.

-

Robby didn't see you until 10 a.m, after you discharged your fifth patient, a 7 year-old boy with a nasty cut on his eyebrow. The kid sweetly waved you goodbye while you walked towards the nurses' station, looking for your next patient. You heard Dana's voice before you saw her.

"Robby, MI coming up, ETA two minutes. Hey— I know who you are!", her tone shifted from alert to agreeable, smiling after recognizing you.

"Mrs. Evans," you replied with a smile, slightly shy.

"Where have you been, kid?"

"Working the night shift."

"For how long?", she walked towards you and gave you a quick hug, taking you in for a moment.

"A year. What happened to you?", you frowned after noticing her black eye, the bruise starting to fade.

"Just another satisfied customer."

"Please tell me you pressed charges...?"

"He's already in jail. C'mon, we gotta go." Robby interrupted your little reunion with a slightly impatient tone, and you gave Dana a nod before following him to the ambulance bay.

You didn't seem to take his demeanor at face value; didn't even have time to dwell on it while the ambulance rolled in.

"Donald Jones, 67, his son called 911 after he passed out in his home. Son said he's taking enalapril. Complained of chest pain, lost consciousness about two minutes ago. BP is 151/100 palp, heart rate's 115, sat's 93, we already started a line on him," the paramedics presented the patient while pushing the gurney inside the ER, squeezing the ambu bag attached to a facemask.

"Mister Jones, can you hear me?", you asked your patient and when he didn't answer, you rubbed your closed fist against his chest, frowning when he didn't complain. "Dana, what's free?"

"Trauma two!"

"Get Javadi and Santos, Dana," Robby requested while entering Trauma Two.

"On my count, one, two, three..."

The four of you raised the patient and placed him on the bed, and while you were listening to his heart and lungs with your stethoscope, another nurse slapped the electrodes on mr. Jones' chest. You quickly put on a gown and a pair of gloves before assessing his eyes with your pocket flashlight.

"Pupils are equal and reactive..."

"What do you want, doctor?"

"12-lead ECG, CBC, coagulation profile, potassium and sodium levels, CK and troponin too. I need an E-FAST, I can barely hear his heartbeat."

"What are you thinking?"

"Positive Kussmaul sign, patient's on ACE inhibitors. Pericardial effusion due to right heart failure."

"Very well. Javadi, you're up. Hold the probe while she teaches you how to perform a pericardiocentesis."

You frowned again after finally noticed two med students around you, one looking far too excited, and the other like a deer caught in headlights.

"Okay, I need a periocardiocentesis kit—"

"Lost his pulse, V-tach! Sats are dropping to eighty-nine, eighty-five..."

Everyone in the room looked at the heart monitor after Princess' warning, and you went for the intubation kit before anyone could hand it to you.

"Santos, start compressions. Princess, charge to 200," Robby calmly ordered his staff around him, arms crossed while closely watching your performance. You carefully inserted the laryngoscope inside your patient's mouth and looked for the cords, the endotracheal tube already in your opposite hand.

"I can't see the cords. Need some cricoid pressure, please."

Robby approached Donald and placed his fingers around his throat in a way that you could finally see your patient's vocal cords. You easily passed the ET tube and inflated its cuff with a syringe, pulling the guide wire.

"I'm in. Bag him."

"Sats are coming up... ninety, ninety-one..." Another nurse squeezed the ambu bag while you returned to Javadi's side. You pulled her towards you after hearing Robby's "Clear!", preventing the med student from getting a nasty shock.

"Sinus rhythm."

"Okay...", you said to yourself while opening the periocardiocentesis tray, switching your nitrile gloves for sterile ones so fast that even Robby was surprised. Princess quicky rubbed a gauze drenched in antiseptic before you placed the sterile drape over the patient's chest.

"Javadi, right?", you quickly looked to the youngest med student next to you before focusing on the ultrasound screen.

"Y-yeah!"

"Okay, I'm going to insert the needle below the xiphoid process, directed to the left shoulder. Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Great. I'm in the pericardial space, now...", you started to fill the syringe with the excessive fluid around the patient's heart, and his parameters steadily started to drop into normalcy.

"Did you get that?", you asked Javadi with a small smile, finally allowing yourself to breathe once the monitors were beeping less frequently.

She nodded her head in response, way less wide-eyed than when she entered Trauma Two.

"Ten of morphine, forty of Lasix, 1 microgram of dobutamine per kilogram per minute, and page Cardiology, please."

The other med student finally spoke.

"That will always be a cool procedure."

You agreed, deeply inhaling through your nose in order to calm your own heart. You removed your sterile gloves and aimed them at the trash can, stepping aside so that the nurses could wrap up yo collective work.

"Med student too?"

"Intern, actually. Trinity Santos."

You shook her hand and introduced yourself to her, checking your patient's vitals once more with your stethoscope. While counting his heart rate, you remembered Jack mentioning to you over post-shift breakfast yesterday that an intern named Santos placed a REBOA on a patient without supervision after the PittFest mass-shooting.

"Heartbeat's better—"

"Cardiology will be here in thirty minutes."

Robby's voice almost scared you, the man finally saying something after staying on the sidelines watching you.

"That's fast," you sarcastically quipped, rubbing your arm against your slightly sweated forehead before readjusting your glasses on your face.

"Javadi, Santos, keep an eye on him. Let's see if his son is outside."

The two young women quickly replied to Robby while you left Trauma Two with him.

"Robby, this man's son is here." Dana informed your attending while he turned to you, acknowledging the nurse with his head.

"Good job back there."

"Thank you, doctor Robinavitch."

"You can—"

"Hey, is my dad okay?!", a younger version of your patient almost ran into you, and you were about to explain his dad's status to him before Robby cut you off.

"You dad most likely had a heart attack, but he's stable for now. We're waiting for Cardiology, and you'll be able to see him in a few minutes."

"Oh, thank God. Thank you so much, doctor."

"Excuse me, doctor Robinavitch."

"Uh, sure."

He eyed you warily for a moment while you made your way to the nurses' station, having a long sip from your water bottle. At first, you did seem aloof, but his own behavior didn't seem to faze you even a little bit: you weren't getting cocky over the praise, nor resentful for not taking credit for saving that man's life.

Michael crossed his arms, deep in thought. He could see why Abbot thought you were one of his best residents only a few hours into the shift. However, he wasn't ready to confess to himself that the way you carried yourself peaked his interest in a worrying manner.

That, and he should be ashamed of himself for ogling a young woman half his age like a creep.

"You kicked him in the shins or something?", Dana asked you while you were filing your last patient's chart.

"What?"

"Robby. He's staring at you like you kicked a puppy."

You looked over your shoulder and Robby suddenly made a beeline to another resident after hearing his name being called.

If you were a tad more arrogant, you would've thought he was staring at you.

"I think that's just his face," you dismissed her in your usual tone.

Dana stifled a laugh and focused again on the screen in front of her.

While Mel presented her patient, only one thought crossed Robby's mind.

He was fucked and he knows it.

Bradshaw's Date

Summary: Bradley’s younger sister has a date, but will he approve?

Warnings: None besides fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: So sorry for being MIA recently. So many of you asked for the flipped version of Seresin’s date, so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

It was days like today where you wish the apartment hunting was more of a priority. Living with your brother has many, many ups, but now there was one major flaw in your slow move to find your own place.

“Hey Roo. How late do you think you’ll be at work today?” You placed a piece of bread in the toaster and lazily glanced to your brother who was drinking coffee, attention solely on his phone.

“Not too sure. Why?” You kept your back to him as you replied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your response.

“No reason. Had plans tonight and didn’t know if you would be here when I left.” The bread in the toaster popped up, making you jump. You heard the chuckle behind you and turned to roll your eyes.

“It’s like a damn jack in the box for adults.” Bradley heard your mumbling and smiled as he got up to put his cup in the sink.

“I think it’s going to be a regular day. Mav said we were running some drills but nothing serious. I’d say we will be done around dinner. Who are your plans with?”

He didn’t miss the way you tensed at the question but played it off like he was clueless. Bradley could read you like a book which is why he knew your plans were with someone you didn’t want him meeting.  

“Ah, just this guy I met. We are grabbing a few drinks and that’s it.” You put butter on you toast a little too violently for it to seem casual.

“You think I’ll like the guy?” You nearly dropped the butter knife at that question. Would your brother like the guy? Absolutely not which is why you are trying to get out of there before he gets home.

“Possibly. But do you think you would like any guy I brought home?” You heard your brother snort in response.

“Fair point.”

Bradley pulled into his driveway from work, getting home around the time he had originally said. He went to get out of his car but stopped when he saw a truck pull in behind him. Jake had gotten out dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around why he was standing in his driveway.

“Are you lost?” Jake gave him the smirk that one day he was going to knock off his face. Nothing got under his skin more than the guy who thinks he’s better at everything than you.

“Honestly I was trying to beat you here but damn, you drive faster than you fly.” Jake leaned against his truck as he waited for the pieces to click.

Bradley glanced up to the house and then back to his teammate. “Absolutely not. Get back in your truck and leave before I make you.”

He expected some push back or a witty remark, but instead Jake ran a hand through his hair looking like he was trying to figure out how to approach things.

“Listen man. I have sisters and I know exactly how this feels. You don’t want any guy within 20 feet of her, especially someone like me. But don’t think I asked her out for this to be a one-time thing. Your sister is special and grateful as hell that she would give me the time of day. She’s not someone you toss aside. She’s someone you work your damn hardest to prove that you’re worth her time and I’m not taking a single second for granted. At least let me take her out tonight and if she hates it or you still aren’t okay with it, I’ll back off. Sisters are something special and I would hate if a guy got between me and mine.”

Bradley didn’t know what to say. Everything in him wanted to throw him out and tell him to never look in your direction again. But damn did his words make sense. Before he had a chance to respond, he heard the front door shut.

“Well, if this doesn’t teach me to get my own place, I don’t know what will.” You walked down the steps of the house to the two men having some sort of standoff in the driveway. Jake offered you a small smile that almost seemed nervous. But your brother met your gaze with a look that told you he was beyond pissed.

“Grind your teeth any harder and your mustache might fall off.” You didn’t miss the cough that came from Jake trying to cover up a laugh, but Bradley wasn’t amused.

“Any guy. You could have gone out with any guy, but this is who you settled for?”

You saw the small flinch Jake made out of the corner of your eye and you knew trying to joke your way out of things wasn’t going to work.

“Listen here, bird boy. I am not settling for anyone, nor would I ever settle. You of all people should know that about me. And you would think me going out with one of your teammates would be better than some random stranger I picked up at a bar. If anything were to happen, you know exactly where to find them.”

Bradley nodded his head at the last statement. “Damn right I do.” You fought the eye roll and settled for a sigh.

“What’s the problem then?” Those words seemed to stop your brother in his path. It was a simple question really, and you were willing to listen to every concern he had. But you were met silence and Bradley opening and closing his mouth like he was some sort of fish.

“Well?” To your surprise, Jake had stayed quite the entire time. You knew the reputation he had, and it was one of the reasons why you were nervous for your brother to find out. But the guy standing in front of you wasn’t trying to force his way into the conversation or talk his way out of a corner. Instead, he was letting you handle things and offered supportive smiles when needed.

“It’s Hangman. I shouldn’t have to have more of a reason than that. You’ve heard what he does to people. He hangs them out to dry and what is stopping him from doing that to you?”

You heard what your brother was saying, but his own worked up opinion of his teammate was clouding his judgement so much that he failed to notice the decent things about Jake.  

“Answer me this. If you were getting chased down by a plane I’m not supposed to know exists, who would you want racing to get there in time?” You saw a small smile form on Jake’s face as he waited for his teammates answer, but it never came.  

“Next question. You say he only cares about himself, but did you ever think maybe he was trying to make everyone around him better?” You watched the frustration grow on his face as you gave him one final question.

“Would you really think I would date a pilot after everything that’s happened unless I saw something in him? I might have been too young to know dad, but I saw the loneliness mom went through.” The last question was a bit of a low blow, but Bradley needed to understand that you weren’t dating Jake as a game. You knew the risks that came with it but there was something about him that made you want to take those risks.

“I just don’t want you dating at all.” Bradley’s voice came out quieter than it was before, but you knew you had gotten through to him.

“And now we have the real reason.” Your brother gave you a confused look and you smirked at him.

“Just because you aren’t getting laid doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” The color drained from his face as he stepped back and shook his head.

“Oh god. You can’t say things like that. Jesus, how does a guy come back from that?” You were laughing at this point and your brother wrapped you in a tight hug.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt. Dad would kill me if he knew I was letting you go out with a pilot.” He pulled back and you smiled at him.

“But mom would be thrilled. She always said the top gun guys were something special.” You stepped out of his embrace and walked over to Jake who pulled flowers out of his truck.

“You ready to get going, sweetheart?” You looked over to your brother for confirmation that this was okay.

Bradley held out his hand to Jake. “You bring her back by 11 or I’m calling Mav.” Jake shook his hand and gave him a single head nod.

“Sure, thing Bradshaw. Your sister is safe with me.”  

Bradley stepped back towards the house and watched as Jake held the door open for you. The smile you had on your face was genuine happiness and he couldn’t help but smile as well.

Headlights flashed through the house, signaling that the two of you were gone. Bradley picked up his phone and called Mav. “Hey man. Can you do me a favor? Hangman just picked your Goddaughter up for a date and I was wondering if you can make his life hell for me tomorrow?”

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? I love to hear from you all!! Tag list is open. Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off! Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsgf

Gravity Part One

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Notes: Welcome back to another accidental two-parter. Not beta-read.

Rating: M

Length: 5.6K

Warnings: Yearning (a frickin lot); slow burn; coworkers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; canon-typical medical chat; fluff; POV switches a couple of times; Reader is roommates with Ellis; Jack 'Prolonged Eye Contact' Abbot

Summary: Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.

It wasn't fair, of course. He was handsome, knowledgeable, charming when he wanted to be. He was an amazing physician, an excellent teacher. And it wasn't his fault you had a bit of competency kink. Abbot had never made you feel anything but valued—and nervous.

Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years. 

It started when she was an intern. 

Jack was fully aware of his tendency toward strong eye contact. It helped him make sure he was fully getting a point across when he was guiding residents in the ER—so long as their focus wasn't meant to be elsewhere. 

He managed to meet her eye fully exactly twice—and maybe it was odd, but Jack could remember both times clear as day. 

The first one was her first day at the Pitt, when she’d shook his hand, introduced herself with a nervous tremor in her voice. Her palm had been a little sweaty, and cold, but her eyes had held his. 

The second had been a week or so later, the first time she’d lost a patient. He’d clapped her on the shoulder, reassured her that there was nothing more she could’ve done. He’d tacked on, “Don’t let it happen again,” and he’d been kidding—but she had balked, ducked her head, apologized, and hurried away. 

She had rarely met his eye since then.

At first, he’d figured that she was shy, and that she’d grow out of it. Then, he’d thought that maybe she was more reserved at work—some people simply kept their personal and professional lives separate.

But those notions had been disproven time and time and time again: when she palled around with her fellow residents; when she watched and communicated with Walsh attentively; when the senior resident that was clearly hitting on her leaned just a little too close for Jack’s liking in the staff room. 

She hadn’t backed down from a single one, hardly batted a damn eyelash.

But any time she spotted Jack, her eyes would lower or dart away—to the floor, to her hands, to a chart, to the sandwich cart, to a counter.

Now, Jack was not a man to take these things personally, but after all these years, it stuck in his craw. He didn’t think about it most days, had learned to take it in stride, found ways to work with it. It had never caused a hold up during a procedure, or in the event of an emergency. She was always active in communicating with him, she just…Never looked at him. 

“You’re going to burn a hole through her head.” 

Jack hadn’t realized he was staring until Lena said so. He glanced toward the nurse, eyed her knowing smile, and redirected his focus to the computer in front of him. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Lena snorted, turning back to the desk as someone approached to ask her a question. 

Jack only half-listened, unable to help his eyes drifting toward her again. She was hunched over her own computer, and seemed to be fighting back a smile at something Shen was saying. Another comment or two from Shen, and then her chin was tipping up, a bright smile on her lips as she held Shen’s eye.

Jack huffed a soft laugh through his nose at the sound of Shen’s cackling laugh, and it was like watching ripples in a pond—her head tipped, her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted in Jack’s direction. The smile flattened when she caught him looking, her focus lowering to her keyboard as she hurriedly straightened. She seemed to point to the charge board, mutter something, and turned on her heel, striding away with purpose.

Jack couldn’t help a swell of petty disappointment. What the hell was that? There was no way she’d heard him laugh. It was like she’d sensed a disturbance in the force. Jack shook his head, trying to refocus on the chart. 

Did she panic because he had been smiling? Had he been staring at her as long as Lena implied? Did he look like some dirty old man? 

Jack pushed off of the desk, eyeing the charge board with purpose. Whatever it was that made her skitter away like that—well. He’d forget it by tomorrow. 

--  

“Hey. You headed in?” 

You glanced back, doing a double-take at the site of Ellis standing in the kitchen doorway. 

“Uh—Yeah, just packin’ a few snacks. You need anything?” 

“I got something to ask you.” 

“Sure, what’s up?” You turned to face her, folding your arms expectantly. In the entire time you and Ellis had been roommates, you’d never seen her look concerned like this—and she usually didn’t bother trying to be delicate when broaching a difficult subject. 

“Parker, what is it?” You pressed.

“Is something going on between you and Abbot?”

Your brow furrowed, mouth falling open as if to answer—but what the hell kind of question was that?

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Abbot, what’s going on?” 

“There’s nothing going on.” 

“You sure?” 

“I think I’d know if something was happening between us, El. Where the hell did this come from, anyway?” 

“Shen said the two of you were weird yesterday, that Abbot looked at you and you bolted. And—” She shrugged, “You kinda always seem like that. Did something happen?” 

“Nothing happened yesterday! I realized I needed to go check on a patient, I’d just gotten their results back.” 

“And all the other times?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Ellis gave you a long look before she relented, holding her hands up in surrender with a mutter of, “Alright.”

“Great.”

“If you insist—”

“I do insist.” 

“But you know what they say about people who protest too much.”

“Cap it, Hamlet. You on tonight?” 

“Yep,” Ellis nodded. 

“See you in there.” 

“If you wanna wait, I’ll drive you.” 

“Nah, it’s okay,” You shifted your bag onto your shoulder. “The walk is good for me.”

“We’re gonna be on our feet for the next twelve hours.” 

“I like a warm-up,” You insisted. “See you in there.” 

Slow and steady, that was how you left the apartment—even steps, a measured pocket-pat-down at the door to make sure you had your phone, keys, wallet, ID badge…And then you were out the door.

Out the door, and down the stairs, and cursing under your breath as you stepped out onto the street. Where the hell did Ellis get off, asking something like that? Implying that something could be going on between you and Abbot? You hardly spoke to the guy. Hell—you felt like you barely said more than two words to the man that didn’t have anything to do with work. The implication that the two of you had something going on was categorically insane—and it twisted your gut up in a knot. 

The closer you got to the Pitt, the worse the feeling got, until it was bordering on nausea. You stopped a block away, drawing in a deep breath and puffing it out between your lips, trying to shake yourself of the feeling. Damnit, why’d you let Ellis get in your head that way? 

You drew in another steadying breath as you started forward again, trying to shake the nerves out of your hands. This shift was going to be fine—as seamless as the ones before it.  

-- 

“You doin’ okay?” 

It was a fair question asked by the last person you wanted to hear it from. The shift had been hell. Patient after patient seemed to have some hitch. You were slower to respond when Abbot asked you questions, prompted you. It was only made worse by the feeling of Ellis and Shen watching every goddamn interaction. 

Now, the test results were back for the patient you were least looking forward to seeing. The patient herself was sweet, but you were getting nowhere with her overbearing husband answering nearly every question for her. 

You pushed yourself to straighten up. 

“Fine,” You insisted flatly. “Thanks.” You straightened fully, hesitating as you heard him take a step away. “Actually—” 

It was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You saw Abbot go still in your periphery, and your hands flexed around the iPad in your hands. 

“I’m having trouble getting answers from a patient—a woman with a head injury. She said she slipped and whacked it, but based on where the cut is...I don't think it's possible. And her husband’s an overbearing ass. I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

“Abusive?” 

“I think so. Could you run interference?” 

“Sure. You have one of those pens, one of the—” 

“I always keep a couple in my pocket.” 

--

She steeled herself before she went into the examination bay. Jack had seen her do it time and time again when she could. He wondered how it steadied her, savored the way that she closed her eyes for a split-second, drew in a deep breath, and then slapped a smile on before pulling the curtain back.

"How are we doing in here?"

Her chipper tone did nothing to reveal the concern that she'd shared with him moments ago. Abbot followed close behind, taking in the young woman laying in a hospital gown on the bed, and the man standing just beside her at the head. Abbot took another step toward the bed, then stopped as the woman seemed seemed to shrink back, attempting to make herself smaller.

"She's fine." The man's voice was gruff in his insistence, his hand curled into a fist just by his wife's head. Abbot's eyes skated across the bruises and scrapes to the knuckles there, his own hands wringing behind his back as he took another step closer.

Jack saw her glance back toward him before she gestured, "Dr. Abbot, this is Nick and Amanda Alpers. Mr. and Mrs. Alpers, this is Dr. Abbot. He's the ER's foremost expert on head injuries." An easy fib, and it seemed to be a necessary one.

"Aren't you all trained on the same shit?" Nick grumbled. Abbot took a couple of steps closer, taking in the slight matting of hair on the wife's head, the dark clotting of blood.

"We all have our own experiences that inform how we practice," Abbot passed easily, taking one more step. "Mrs. Alpers, would it be alright if I examined the—"

"It's just a scrape, really!" The insistence was hurried, and left the poor woman in a squeak. Abbot forced a small smile, giving a conceding nod.

"May I examine the scrape?" He conceded.

Amanda's eyes seemed to dart to Nick for permission, and only after a hefty sigh did Nick wave Abbot closer.

He couldn't help but note the way his fellow doctor rounded the bed, caught on the slight flurry of her questions as he gloved up.

"Are you feeling any pressure?" He asked, gently parting the hair to get a better look at the bloody, raised bump on her head.

"N-no. No more than usual—I mean! No more than anyone ever usually feels," Amanda hurried to answer. Abbot's eyes lifted to the doctor on the opposite side of the bed just in time to see her fingers tightening around her iPad.

"Any sensitivity to light, sound...?" Abbot went on, drawing his penlight out of his pocket and shining it from one eye to the next.

"Nn-nn."

"Hm."

"If that's all, can we go?" Nick groused. "Already been a waste of a night."

Abbot straightened, sizing Nick up. He waited for his fellow physician to say something, but—Nothing. He looked at her, certain she was eyeing the chart, but realized immediately that it was a mistake. Her eyes were right on his, widening pointedly as they darted to the creep beside her. Abbot cleared his throat, doing his best to focus on the patient—though he knew he'd be tucking that look away for himself.

"Nick, can I have a word?" He asked, gesturing toward the nurse's station.

"What for?"

Abbot pushed a short breath out through his nose as he rounded the bed, taking even steps so as not to raise the brute's hackles.

"There are some things that I'd like to discuss with you. Things that, you know," He nodded, "Women shouldn't hear."

Watching understanding wash over Nick's face made his stomach turn. It was a wonder the man had brought his wife to the ER at all if that was the attitude he held.

"We won't go far?" Nick pressed, though he was already moving.

"No, no," Jack insisted, following him out, "Just a few feet." He gave her one last look, and a quick nod before tugging the observation curtain closed behind them.

--

The knot that had formed in your stomach only tightened, but it wasn’t for your own nerves or panic anymore. You didn't like letting her go, hated seeing her leave with him. Abbot came to a stop beside you, and for a moment, the two of you just watched Nick steer Amanda out of the ER.

"What'd you say to him?" You asked.

"Distracted him with football."

"I didn't know you watched."

“Sometimes. She take the pen?” He asked. 

“...Yeah.” 

“It’s a start.”

“Might be too little, too late.” 

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

“You think so?” 

“Sure.”

“...I gave her my number, too.” 

You saw Abbot’s head turn toward you, and you froze, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” It should’ve been more of a scold, but you could’ve sworn his tone was tinged with admiration. 

“I know.”

“What were you thinking?” 

“I wasn’t.” You turned away from Abbot. “Thanks again for distracting him.” 

“...No problem. Will you tell me if she calls?” 

“Yeah,” You nodded, turning to look at the board. “Hope she does—and soon.” 

“Was that all that was bothering you?” 

“What?” 

“You seemed a little off earlier. Just making sure everything’s okay.” 

Well, Abbot always was the observant type. It was one of the things that made him such a good doctor. You shouldn’t have been offended by his question, but in that moment, his concern was as unwelcome as Ellis probing had been just a few hours before. 

“Just one of those days—nights,” You corrected, “You know.” 

“Take a couple minutes, get some air.” 

“I’m alright.” And before you could stop yourself, you gave him a grateful smile before turning away. In truth, you weren't entirely sure where you were headed to—you’re more distracted by the fact that you’d met the guy’s eye more in the last twenty minutes than you probably had in the last two years. 

-- 

“Here.” 

“Thanks,” You took your beer as Ellis set it down and settled into the seat across from you. “John on his way?” 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “And uh…Don’t kill me, but he’s bringing someone.” 

You frowned, shaking your head as you waited for her to explain. Ellis didn’t elaborate, merely tipped her brows up. It only took a second for you to put the pieces together, and you groaned, sliding down in your chair as nerves flooded your stomach. 

“Parker—” 

“It’s just a coincidence!” She took in your unimpressed glare, corrected, “Mostly a coincidence. We always ask, he almost never says yes. It’s as hard to talk him into coming out as it is to talk you into it. Besides, it’ll help!” 

“There’s nothing here that needs helping.” 

“It’s slowing things down—”

“When has it ever slowed anything down?”

“Last few shifts, he’s waited for you to look at him when you answer and nothing. It’s making shit weird. We leave that messy personal bull for the day shift.”

“I’m not—This isn’t messy, it’s just—”

“You barely look at the guy. We all notice it.” 

“He’s so big on frickin’ eye contact, like,” You glanced around the bar, “It’s intimidating.” 

“Intimidating?”

“Yeah.”

“Intimidating.” 

“Yes! I barely even like making eye contact with you, but I live with you, so it’s mostly unavoidable.” 

“You love it.”

“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be adopted by the meanest lesbian in the ER?”

“I thought that was Garcia.”

“No, she’s the meanest lesbian in surgery.” 

Ellis’ smile widened before she perked up, waving at someone behind you before she leaned in just a touch. 

“Just be yourself, be cool.”

“Pick one.”

“You know, I bet he thinks you hate him.” 

“What?” You hissed, “Why would he think that? And—Why would he give a shit, plenty of people hate their boss. Not that I hate him, I don’t, just—”

“Hey!” Shen’s voice cut over your nervous chatter, and you couldn’t stop your knee-jerk reaction of turning to look at him—and spotting Abbot just a couple of steps behind. Shen patted you on the shoulder, settling down beside you as Abbot rounded the table. Your eyes glued to your beer instinctively as he shrugged out of his jacket, sitting down beside Ellis. And you thought you’d just managed to be subtle enough—until both Shen and Ellis kicked you lightly under the table. It took everything in you not to kick back, instead lifting your head to meet Abbot’s eye, plastering a small smile on your lips. 

“Hi.” 

“Hello.” There was a little lean to his lo, a friendly tease that you felt like you hadn’t earned. And there was eye contact—heavy, steady eye contact as he folded his arms on the table. You tried to ignore the traitorous little flip in your stomach as you hurriedly lowered your eyes to the table, picking your beer up and taking a swig to try and drown the flurrying butterflies.  

“We miss anything good?” Shen plied. Ellis shook her head. 

“We were just talking about renewing our lease.” 

“I forgot you two were roommates,” Abbot commented. Ellis must’ve told him, and you couldn’t fathom why he’d remember. 

“What’s the verdict?” Shen asked.

“We’re gonna stick,” You reported as you looked at him. “Rent is going up, but, like, barely…Barely.”

“And the location is too good,” Ellis tacked on. “Half an hour to the Pitt walking, fifteen minutes by car—utilities don’t suck, either.” 

“Decent space,” You added, “And allows dogs—if this one goes through with getting a dog.”

“I’m still in research and development.” 

“Aren’t you allergic?” Shen nudged your arm. 

“Yeah, but not deathly. And if she picks a breed that doesn’t shed much and has a low can f 1 gene—” 

“I want to adopt from a shelter—” 

“So I’ll probably be moving out as soon as that happens,” You teased, “Because god knows she’ll wind up with a mutt.” 

“And sublet?” 

“Sure, John. You can move into my room, I’ll move into your place. Even trade.” 

“I don’t know about that—” 

“Better rent, better location.” 

“You won’t mind being further from the Pitt?”

“Nah,” You shrugged, “I like a long walk.” 

“Sure does,” Ellis rolled her eyes, “I don’t know anyone that spends more time just wandering around on their days off.” 

“Is it a crime to enjoy being outside when the sun is up?” 

“You ever think of switching to day shift?”

Abbot’s question caught you off-guard—it was like you’d fallen into such an easy rhythm with Ellis and Shen that you'd almost managed to forget that he was there. Your fingers tightened around your beer as you forced yourself to meet Abbot’s eye again. 

“Not once.” 

It was the truth, and it made Abbot’s smile widen in a way that felt dangerously vindicating. Unnerving quiet wrapped around your shared gaze, and Ellis clearing her throat was what finally snapped you out of looking at him. 

“So, hey,” Shen jumped in, “Did I tell you guys about my latest acquisition?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” You muttered over Ellis’ low whistle. 

“Another ebay war?” She asked.

“Not a war, an easy buy,” Shen insisted, “You know, for—”

“Yeah, your shank bank, we remember,” You insisted, smile pulling wide as both Abbot and Ellis’ laughter catches from that side of the table. “That weird-ass collection of antique medical equipment—fucking medical history nerd.” 

“I keep them as a display!” 

“Must really get ‘em going on a date night. Nothing hotter to a woman than rusty scalpels,” You batted back, nudging Shen’s shoulder with yours. You didn’t mean to catch Abbot’s eye on your way back to looking at Ellis again. And this look didn’t hold for as long as the one before it—but it was just long enough to reawaken the butterflies, even as Shen insisted,

“This one isn’t even rusty!”

--  

As you turned in for the night, Ellis teased you, insisted, “See, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You didn’t argue, because she wasn't wrong—it wasn’t the worst way to spend an afternoon out. But it was…Different. 

Your aversion to Dr. Abbot’s attention had started your first week at the Pitt, when he’d stuck close during an intubation. He hadn’t been breathing down your neck, but his steady focus had made you so damn nervous. You were used to your attendings being just a little scattered, torn in six different directions. And other matters had vied for Abbot’s attention, sure, but he hadn’t heeded them until the patient was in the clear.

You’d started to avoid his gaze after that, and it had just become second nature. Avoiding eye contact turned into avoiding him during the quiet moments of your shifts, which turned into a patient-treatment-only conversational focus. Abbot consulted on your cases, made recommendations, listened to your rationalizations. 

When he did insist on meeting your eye, you gave him just a long enough look to show that you’d heard him, but never anything more. You’d avoided palling around with him, even though you palled around with your fellow residents, and with other attendings—but you were comfortable with them. 

And Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.

It wasn't fair, of course. He was handsome, knowledgeable, charming when he wanted to be. He was an amazing physician, an excellent teacher. And it wasn't his fault you had a bit of competency kink. Abbot had never made you feel anything but valued—and nervous.

Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years. 

You could understand how Abbot may’ve thought you didn’t like him—if he really thought that. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who needed everyone to like him. It probably helped, sure, but you were positive that your countenance had never caused a slow-down or a hitch in the ER, no matter what Ellis said. You were just focused—and since when was that a bad thing? 

Either way, today had been kinda…okay. You’d made nice with Abbot, made eye contact multiple times without Ellis or Shen kicking you in the shins again. Whatever wound up happening, you’d tried, and they couldn’t take that away from you, right? 

You settled in bed, letting your eyes slip closed, drawing in a deep breath to relax yourself.

For all your initial irritation, Ellis was right—it wasn’t that bad. 

But it didn’t stop Abbot’s warm gaze from lingering behind your eyelids when you closed them, and it couldn’t keep the mirthful roll of his chuckle from playing through your mind as you tried to drift off. 

-- 

You decided to make it a little experiment, approach it as something that you could train yourself out of. Seeing him over drinks had laid the groundwork—and you had managed to look at him twice a few shifts ago, hadn’t you? 

You went into your next shift determined to look Abbot in the eye three times.

You only managed it once when you passed him by the board—a glance and a small wave.

The smile that he returned flustered you so much that you nearly walked into the sandwich cart, and it scared you out of looking at him for the rest of the night. As a matter of fact, it scared you out of it the next shift, and the one after that. 

You talked yourself out of the whole foolish endeavor. You’d managed to work with Abbot perfectly well before, why change things now? Especially when looking at him seemed to awaken something girlish and fluttering inside of you—and you couldn’t afford to be girlish and fluttering at work. 

-- 

She was doing it again. 

Jack had thought they had turned a corner after Shen and Ellis had invited them all out together, but things seemed to be moving in reverse. It had gone beyond sticking in his craw—it was almost nagging at him now, and worse now that he knew what the full force of her focus was like. It was easy to brush off before, but these days Jack was hard-pressed to admit that he felt something in him wilt whenever she avoided his eye. 

She was making a meal of it now, focused stalwartly as she instructed Javadi on setting a bone. He’d seen her head tip in his direction a couple of times, but she’d always given her head a little shake before refocusing. Was the shake for Javadi? For him? 

“...You didn’t hear me, did you,” Ellis asked, forcing him to refocus. He had heard her—and he could feign that his silence had been fueled by contemplation. He turned away from the treatment bay, arms folded across his chest. 

“See if the OR can take Mr. Tosches yet," He instructed. "I don’t want him down here too long. You follow up with the raccoon kid?” 

“That’s my next stop.” 

“Perfect, thanks.” 

“Sure—Hey, are you coming by this weekend?”

That weekend. He’d been dodging giving Ellis an answer for the last couple of weeks. She’d invited him to the last four get-togethers at the apartment, but he’d never made it to one, either because he was working, or because he just wasn’t in the mood to socialize. 

He wasn’t sure he was in the mood now, but…A fleeting smile flashed through his mind. They’d seemed to come easier to her when they were away from the hospital. And his therapist had been nagging him about leaving the house more…

“Yeah,” He nodded. “Yeah, I can make it.” 

Ellis didn’t cover her surprise well, but her, “kay, sweet. I’ll text you the address," Told him that she was just as surprised by his answer as he was.

Abbot nodded, casting another glance toward the treatment bay before turning away fully. It was just an experiment, he told himself. He would see if her smiles for him came easier outside of work, or not at all. 

If it was not at all, he’d let it go, once and for all.

--  

“Is there any coffee?” 

The question made you freeze in front of your cabinet. Your eyes darted through its contents, but you didn’t take in a damn thing. He was in your kitchen. He never came to these things, why the hell did he come to this one?

“Uh—” You turned, looking around your kitchen as though you’d never been there before. “It’s um—Yeah. Right there. It might not be hot, though. I can turn the pot back on.” 

“I’ve got it.” 

“You're on shift tonight?”

“Mhm.”

You nodded, turning back to the cabinet. Hell, what did you open it for? Goddamn, but you came in here looking for something—You huffed, shoving the cabinet door closed as you scrubbed your hand across your forehead. He wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to make you feel this out of sorts in your own damn kitchen. 

“Everything alright?” 

“You know, I feel like half the time you talk to me, you’re asking if I’m okay.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and embarrassment sprang up the second it did. “I should, um—You need a mug, don’t you,” You muttered, turning to the other cabinet, and glancing back toward the living room when you heard a swell of laughter. Damnit, but Ellis sent you into the kitchen for what? Napkins? Napkins would be in the cabinet.

“Well forgive me for being concerned when one of my best residents seems to spend half of her shifts avoiding me.” 

You whirled around, too stunned to do anything but meet Jack’s eye. The steady contact seemed to catch the both of you off-guard. Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment as your mind reeled. What the hell could you say to that? Well—what would you say if you were talking to Ellis or Shen? 

“...Just one of your best residents?” 

Abbot’s brows lifted, his lips quirk with a smile, and your stomach filled with that girlish fluttering again. 

“You’re certainly not avoiding me now.”

You press your mouth together, gaze instinctively dropping to the floor. 

“I don’t avoid you at work, either. I’m just—” You turned back to the cabinet, reaching into it for a mug. “I’m focused when I'm at the Pitt.” 

“Seem to be focused right now, too.” 

“Do you want a mug for your coffee or not?” 

“Oh, that old excuse.” 

“Fine, drink it from the pot. That’s Parker’s machine, anyway. She’ll kill you.” 

“She wouldn’t. We’re short-staffed as it is.” 

“Well, that’s true.” You crossed the kitchen, holding the mug out. And, though you knew the answer, you asked, “Do you need milk or sugar?” 

“No.” 

“Alright.” You turned, reaching for the cabinet by the coffee machine. Maybe it was something in there.

“...You don’t really think I avoid you," You plied, unable to stop yourself.

“Certainly avoid looking at me.”

“Focused.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“You’re fine to look at.” 

“Oh?”

“Good—Good to—” No, nothing in that cabinet. Check the next one. At least, you needed to get a few feet away from Abbot before you said anything else stupid. “You’re fine.” 

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” 

“...Look at me.” 

It was so firm that you went still in front of your cabinet again, hands on the knobs, doors half-open as your heart leaps into your throat.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re not at work, you can’t need to be that focused. If I’m so fine to look at, look at me.” 

Your fingers flexed around the knobs, palms growing sweaty. 

“Ellis asked me to grab something for her and you’ve already distracted me enough.”

“Is that so.” 

“You can be very distracting sometimes.” For fucksake. What was it about being alone with this man that had your head so horribly scrambled?

“I suddenly feel like I oughta apologize,” He commented.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.” 

“A little.” 

You scoffed out a laugh, your nerves only worsening when you heard Jack take a few steps closer, saw him lower his coffee onto the counter beside you. 

“It won’t take long,” He reassured, raising his hand to close one of the cabinet doors. “One quick look.” 

You drew in a deep breath, planting your hand on the counter and turning to face Jack with wide eyes. You were prepared to stare at him pointedly—but you faltered at the look on his face. His eyes were softer than they had any right being. They searched your expression, sweeping over your nose, across your cheeks, to your lips, and up again—as if he was seeing you for the first time. 

“...See?” He murmured. “This isn’t so bad.” 

You struggled to swallow, throat dry; your face was flooding with heat. If this was a cartoon, you were certain that your heart would be beating out of your chest. 

“No,” You finally managed, shaking your head a little, unable to tear your eyes from his, “No, it isn’t.” 

Jack’s smile widened as he leaned against the counter a touch, fingers skimming against yours. And you knew that you ought to look away, go ask Ellis what she sent you into the damn kitchen for in the first place, but you couldn't bring yourself to move.

“You just gonna keep staring at me, Jack?” You murmured. His brows jumped slightly at the use of his first name, lips quirking with a smirk.

“You’re staring, too.”

“Making up for apparently avoiding you.” 

“Very kind of you.”

“Do what I can.” 

Maybe it was better that he was looking at your face, anyway—if he looked down, he might see the goosebumps sweeping up your arm from the gentle sweep of his fingertips against yours. It felt pathetic to get so worked up from such a simple touch. Goddamn, did he look at everyone like this? Did everyone feel like this when he looked at them? There was no way—if it was, nothing would ever get done at the Pitt. 

“Hey, did you find the Triscuits?” 

Ellis bottle snapped you out of the trance-like stare, and you whirled away from Jack like he was trying to set you on fire. The Triscuits, son of a bitch, that was what you were sent to look for. 

“I just—I just saw them,” You fumbled, pulling the cabinet open again. 

“My fault,” Abbot spoke up. “I asked for some coffee.” 

“You’re on tonight?” Ellis frowned, and you were relieved to hear her come deeper into the kitchen. “I thought you were taking the day.” 

“We had two call outs. Matter of fact, I should get going.”

You glanced doggedly back toward Jack, watching him pick his mug up and take a deep swig. You busied yourself with poking through the drawer beneath the cupboard, vaguely catching Abbot saying his goodbyes to Ellis in the background. Jeez, did the Trisuits fucking evaporate? 

You glanced toward the mug as Jack set it down in the sink, and, against your better judgement, met Jack’s eye when he turned to look at you. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Sure,” You nodded. “Have a good shift.” 

“Good luck finding those, uh…” He glanced toward Ellis. “Triscuits?” 

“Uh-huh,” She nodded. “Thanks for coming, man.” 

“Have a good night.” 

You listened to his retreating footsteps, marked the opening and closing of the door…And tried not to die from complete mortification when Ellis tapped your shoulder, then pointed out the box of Triscuits where it was sitting on the counter. 

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @artsymaddie

@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

Don't Make Me Someone You Can't Have

pairing : dr. jack abbot x resident!reader (afab!reader)

summary : The fallout didn’t start the day of Pitt Fest—it started when you told Jack Abbot how you felt and he told you he didn’t want you. A week later, grief, jealousy, and everything unsaid ignite into something impossible to bury. (Lowkey inspired by Big Love by Fleetwood Mac—because obviously.)

warnings/content : trauma aftermath (mass casualty event), hospital setting, attending x resident dynamic, mutual pining, emotional repression, angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, verbal rejection, explicit sexual content (f!receiving, protected sex), semi-public/backseat sex, emotionally loaded dialogue, swearing

word count : 4,212

18+ ONLY, not beta read. Please read responsibly.

a/n : I am just so obsessed with Abbot, like oml I do not need a new hyperfixation at this point of the semester but here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this!

There’s blood on your forearms.

Not a lot—just the dried trace of a life you couldn’t save, stuck to your skin even after the first scrub. You’ve already changed out of your soiled gloves and gown. You sanitized twice. But still, you scrub again, because your hands won’t stop shaking and focusing on the motion keeps you upright.

The shooting at Pitt Fest has left the trauma bay soaked with the sound of screams you can’t forget. The floors were slick. Supplies ran out faster than anyone could track. You can still hear the rhythmic buzz of the trauma pager, the overhead call for more gurneys, the shrill monitor that never quieted until it did.

Your white coat is somewhere in the hallway—discarded and stained, a casualty of triage. There’s a bruise blossoming on your cheekbone, just beneath your eye. It’s from when the mother of the boy thrashed in panic, her elbow colliding with your face. You didn’t notice it at first, not until someone pointed it out with a grimace. Said it was turning purple, already swelling. Said you should ice it. You didn’t.

You press harder on your hands.

Jack Abbot hasn’t spoken to you since he snapped orders across the gurney three hours ago, voice razor-sharp, eyes like flint. He’d taken over compressions without blinking. His personal protection gear streaked in blood. His shoulders set like stone. His voice—steady, calm, cold.

You’d hesitated.

Just a second. Maybe less. But he’d seen it.

“You’re too shallow—switch out. Now.”

He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Just stepped in, hands already moving, chest compressing with the precision of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. Because he has.

He moves like he did on the field. You’ve heard stories—Jack the soldier, desert heat in his lungs, fingers suturing flesh with a kind of brutal grace. You’ve seen glimpses of it before, but tonight? Tonight, it wasn’t a glimpse. It was a full transformation.

You backed away, stunned into silence. Not because he took over. But because of how he did it. Like you were a liability. Like you didn’t belong.

You told yourself it was adrenaline. It wasn’t.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s him.

You keep your eyes on the mirror—don’t move, don’t breathe—until his reflection comes into focus beside yours.

His eyes go straight to your cheek.

The bruise.

His posture changes. Shoulders tense, mouth tightening. He doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of something behind his eyes is unmistakable. Not surprise. Not guilt.

Anger. Not at you—but at the fact that you’re hurt.

He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter. His eyes flick to your cheekbone again. The bruise is deeper now, ugly in the fluorescent light.

“You paused,” he says finally, voice low.

You dry your hands slowly. The paper towel crinkles between your fingers.

You turn, sharp. “I froze because I’ve never had to treat a gunshot wound in a fifteen-year-old while their mother screamed in my ear.”

You don’t stop.

“She was grabbing my sleeves, pulling at my hands, sobbing and shouting his name—over and over. She kept trying to touch his face. I could barely see where the blood was coming from. I wasn’t even sure where to start.”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “That’s what the job is.”

You laugh, and it sounds like it’s clawing its way out of your chest. “Don’t lecture me on what the job is, Jack. I’ve been here three years. I know what this place does to people.”

His jaw tightens. There’s something in his eyes—anger, maybe. Or guilt. You can’t tell with him. You never can.

He pushes off the counter.

“You think I don’t know what it does to people?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when he steps closer, the air between you tight enough to snap.

“You think I wanted you in the bay?” he asks.

You blink. “What?”

Jack’s voice dips lower. “I saw your name on the call sheet. I almost pulled you off rotation.”

Your breath hitches. “You don’t get to do that.”

He’s close now—too close. He smells like hospital soap and something else beneath it—deep, expensive cologne that cuts through the sterile air. Teakwood. Mahogany. That warm, slightly spiced scent that always lingers a second too long after he leaves a room. Clean. Controlled. Intentionally chosen. Just like him.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart,” he says.

Your heart slams. The words hit harder than they should, because they’re the first ones he’s offered that sound like anything real. Not just protocol. Not just war-worn discipline.

“I already have,” you whisper. “And you didn’t notice. Not when I told you how I felt. Not when you shut me down like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”

He swallows hard. His posture stiffens.

“You didn’t even look at me after that,” you say, voice shaking. “I told you I had feelings for you, and you acted like I’d crossed some unspoken line. Like caring about you was a mistake I should be embarrassed by.”

Jack doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, eyes burning. “For you, it’s easier to pretend this thing—whatever it is between us—doesn’t exist than admit you’re scared of something real.”

You don’t have to spell it out. You’ve seen the way he distances himself—the way he locks things down before anyone even gets close. You’ve felt it.

The silence now is a living thing. Loud. Brutal. The air is laced with too many unsaid things.

You can feel it—beneath the calm, beneath the scrub shirt and military precision—Jack is burning.

But he still doesn’t reach for you.

So you do what you always do.

You leave before he can stop you.

You don’t get far.

The trauma bay doors hiss shut behind you and the night air hits your face like a slap—cool, sharp, soaked in hospital exhaust and rain-soaked concrete. You pace once. Twice. You don’t cry.

You breathe. You think you might scream. Instead, you lean back against the cold exterior wall of the hospital and close your eyes. And there it is—the echo of his voice, thick with something too raw to name.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

But it wasn’t just tonight that gutted you. It started before. When you said too much and he gave you nothing.

It was three days ago. Late enough that the hospital had gone quiet—the kind of quiet where your thoughts get too loud, and nothing feels safe to admit.

You were both at the nurses’ station. Jack sat at one of the desktops, the screen glowing pale blue in front of him, his fingers motionless on the trackpad. You were across from him, one hand hovering over the keyboard, the other absently toying with a pen.

You’d been circling it for weeks—maybe longer. This thing between you. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the quiet, in the unspoken, in the almosts. In the way your skin prickled when he entered a room. The way air shifted when he stood behind you—close, but never touching.

It was in the way his gaze found you during rounds, lingering just a heartbeat too long. The way his voice dipped when he said your name, soft and unreadable—like a secret slipping between his teeth. The way your breath caught when he brushed past you in the hallway, the fabric of his scrubs grazing yours, sending a bolt of something electric down your spine.

It was professional. It had to be. But it never felt neutral.

Every look felt like contact. Every silence, a dare.

The tension wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It sat just under the surface—constant, quiet, undeniable. Like gravity. Like something pulling you toward him whether you wanted it or not.

But it wasn’t just you.

Jack watched you, too. Carefully. Deliberately. Like he was trying not to want you and failing anyway. He always looked away too slowly. Cleared his throat when your laugh caught him off guard. Said your name differently than everyone else—lower, rougher, like he was holding it in his mouth too long.

There were moments you caught him looking at you like he was already sorry for it.

Like he knew what it would cost if he gave in.

There were nights you couldn’t sleep without replaying the way his hand brushed yours, or the heat of his body behind you in the elevator, or the flicker of something in his eyes before he shut it down again.

You weren’t supposed to notice.

He wasn’t supposed to let you.

But you did.

And he did.

And both of you kept pretending it wasn’t real—even as it took up more and more space inside your chest.

You hadn’t planned to say anything. You hadn’t rehearsed it. It just… happened.

“I care about you,” you’d said, voice soft but steady. “I’m not trying to ruin anything. I just need you to know.”

Jack didn’t look up. Not at first. He just sat there, shoulders stiff, jaw set like someone had flipped a switch inside him. When he did meet your eyes, it wasn’t with warmth. It was with something colder. Sharper. Like he was bracing for impact.

“This can’t happen,” he’d said. Quiet. Controlled. Like he was reciting a rule he’d memorized a long time ago. “You’re a resident. I’m your attending. You know that.”

You’d nodded, tried to smile, tried to make it easy for him. Tried to act like it didn’t sting.

But he kept going.

“And even if you weren’t… it’s not a good idea.”

He hesitated. Just a second. But enough.

"You don’t know me," he added, eyes hard. "You think you do, but you don’t. You see what I let you see. And that version of me—that's not real."

And then, like he needed to twist the knife just to make sure it stuck :

“Whatever you think this is—I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

You knew, even as he said it—he didn’t mean it. Not like that. But he wanted it to hurt. Needed it to. Like if he made you hate him, it would make walking away easier. That was the part that stayed with you.

You hadn’t cried then. Not in front of him. You nodded again, eyes dry, throat burning, and told him you understood. But you hadn’t said anything else. Didn’t argue. Didn’t ask him why.

And he hadn’t offered.

Not an apology. Not an explanation.

He hadn’t said a single word to you since—not until today, when his voice finally cut through the chaos to order you off the boy’s chest. Cold. Clinical. Like nothing had ever passed between you at all. Like you were just another resident.

But you’d felt it. In the way he walked into a room and wouldn’t look at you. In the way his voice would hitch when you brushed past. In the way his fists curled tight at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but refused to let himself.

He was trying to be cold. Trying to keep the line drawn.

And still—still—he’d almost pulled you from trauma rotation tonight.

You open your eyes. The ache in your chest feels ancient. Familiar.

Big love. That’s what it was. The kind that never had a chance to grow, but still bloomed under your skin like it owned you.

And Jack? Jack let it die before it ever had the chance to live.

It’s been a week since Pitt Fest.

The hospital has started to settle into something like normal, but you haven’t. You still flinch when a trauma page comes over the comms. Still hear that mother’s voice, shrill and ragged. Still feel the ghost of Jack’s hand brushing yours when he took over compressions. That wasn’t the moment you broke, but it was the moment you knew you couldn’t pretend anymore.

So tonight, you go out. Against your better judgment.

Whitaker begged you. Santos threatened to show up at your apartment with a bottle of tequila. King and Mohan promised only one drink, just one, come on, you need it. Javadi was supposed to come too, but she bailed last minute—something about studying for boards and not wanting to get caught at another bar underage.

So now it’s the five of you crammed into a booth at this dive bar near the hospital in downtown Pittsburgh, the one with sticky floors and pool tables missing half the balls. The music is too loud, but the company is easy. Whitaker is doing some elaborate retelling of a patient who tried to fake a heart attack to get out of paying his copay. Mohan is crying from laughter. You’re sipping something sweet and strong and trying to let it all melt away.

It’s working.

Until you see him.

Jack.

He’s across the bar, half-shadowed under the neon sign, nursing a beer like he doesn’t want to be seen. But he’s not alone.

Robby’s with him. Of course he is.

They’re leaned in close, not talking much. Just sitting. Watching.

No—he’s watching.

You.

Your drink stills halfway to your mouth. Your stomach twists, not violently, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Jack doesn’t look away. Not immediately. Just holds your gaze like it hurts him. Like it should.

You force yourself to blink, to laugh at something Whitaker says. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking. You pretend you don’t feel your entire body tuning itself to the sound of his silence.

He rejected you. You know that.

But the way he’s looking at you now? It doesn’t feel like rejection.

It feels like longing.

And maybe that’s worse.

You down the rest of your drink in one go. It burns less than it should.

There’s a man at the bar. Mid-forties, maybe older. Salt-and-pepper beard. Expensive watch. He catches your glance and offers a smile that’s a little too polished, a little too practiced—but you return it anyway. Because he’s older. Because he’s sharp-eyed. Because he reminds you, in all the wrong ways, of someone else.

You excuse yourself from the table before anyone can stop you.

You take your drink, your heels, and your broken pride, and you slide onto the stool next to him.

Jack sees. Of course he does.

You make sure he does.

“Can I buy you another?” the man asks, nodding to your empty glass.

You smile. “Yeah. Why not?”

You laugh too easily. Let your shoulder brush his as he leans in. He says something you don’t hear because your pulse is thundering in your ears.

Across the bar, Jack’s jaw is tight. His hand clenches around his beer bottle, the label peeling beneath his thumb.

You tilt your head back and laugh again—this time louder, brighter, crueler.

Because if you’re going to hurt, you want him to feel it too.

And he does.

You can see it in the way he breaks eye contact first.

You can see it in the way Robby says something and Jack doesn’t respond.

You can see it in the way he stands up a minute later, like he can’t stand to watch anymore.

But he doesn’t leave.

He moves.

Across the bar. Slow, deliberate. Controlled rage in every step.

Robby calls after him, eyebrows lifted, confused—but Jack doesn’t answer.

He stops a foot away from you, the stranger mid-sentence, and you feel it before you even look up—heat rolling off of him like a storm about to break.

“Can I talk to you?” Jack says. Voice low. Measured. Barely held together.

You arch an eyebrow, take a long sip of your drink. “Busy.”

The man beside you glances between the two of you, sensing something sharp in the air. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Jack’s eyes are locked on yours. Not the stranger’s. Not anyone else’s.

“You need to come with me,” he says, lower now. “Now.”

And it’s not a command. It’s not even a plea. It’s desperation wrapped in control, fraying at the edges.

You consider refusing. You want to.

But you rise anyway.

And follow him out the door.

The air outside is colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just him.

Jack doesn’t speak right away. He walks fast—toward the lot behind the bar, where his car is parked beneath a crooked streetlamp. When he finally stops, it’s with his back to you. One hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. The kind of stillness that comes right before something breaks.

You follow, heart hammering. He turns.

“What the hell was that?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His eyes flash. “The guy. The flirting. You were trying to—”

“Trying to what?” you snap. “Move on? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Jack exhales, sharp and uneven. “You don’t get it.”

“No, Jack. I really don’t. You said this couldn’t happen. You told me to forget it, forget you. And then you stare at me like that? Like you’ve got any right to be angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he bites out. “I’m—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence stretches. You can hear the distant music from inside, laughter spilling through the front entrance. But here? It’s just you and him, and everything you haven’t said.

“I didn’t want to do that to you,” he says finally, voice frayed. “Push you away. I just… I didn’t know how else to make it stop.”

Your voice lowers. “Why would you want it to stop?”

He steps forward once. Close, but not touching. His hands stay at his sides like he’s afraid of what will happen if he reaches for you.

“Because it scares the shit out of me,” Jack says. “Because you matter more than you should. And because I don’t trust myself not to fuck that up.”

Your heart twists. “So instead you say things to make me hate you?”

“I thought if you hated me, it would be easier for both of us.”

You laugh—soft, bitter. “It’s not.”

His voice breaks. “I know.”

You look at him. Really look at him. There’s pain there—old and festering. The kind that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with whatever he’s been dragging behind him since the war, since before.

You take a breath. “So what now?”

Jack steps even closer. You can feel the heat of him again. His eyes drop to your mouth, then snap back up like he’s furious with himself for even looking.

“You came out here,” you say.

“I didn’t want to watch someone else touch you,” he admits.

“Then don’t make me someone you can’t have.”

There’s a beat.

And then he’s kissing you.

Rough. Desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for years and it’s finally breaking loose. You answer it without hesitation, fisting your hands in his shirt, dragging him down like you’re daring him to finally stop pretending.

He presses you back against the car, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His mouth is on yours—hungry, ragged—like if he slows down, this will disappear.

“Back seat,” he growls. His voice scrapes through your chest.

He opens the rear door behind you, hand never leaving your hip, guiding you with him. You climb in first, crawling across the backseat with your heart in your throat. By the time you turn, he’s already sliding in after you, pulling the door shut behind him with a solid, final thud.

He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you again, harder this time, like his life depends on it. You climb into his lap, straddling him now, knees on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed close and flushed with heat. He shoves your coat off your shoulders, pushes your shirt up. You tug his top over his head and toss it somewhere in the car.

“God,” he mutters, eyes raking over you. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it.”

He does.

He unhooks your bra with one hand—like muscle memory—his mouth already on your chest, teeth and tongue working in tandem. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you close as your hips grind down into his.

You’re panting. He’s shaking.

You reach between you, working open his belt, and feel him throb beneath the fabric. Jack shudders when your hand slips inside, groaning low into your skin.

“Wallet,” he mutters against your neck, voice breathless. “Inside pocket.”

You grab it. Your fingers move fast, practiced by adrenaline. You find the condom tucked there, tear it open, and hand it to him. His eyes meet yours as he rolls it on—slow, deliberate. Controlled, even now.

You brace yourself on his shoulders and lower down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s seated fully inside you.

The stretch burns in the best way. You gasp. He swears.

You don’t move. Not yet.

He kisses your jaw, your collarbone. Holds your hips steady with both hands like he’s savoring the feel of you. And when you start to move—hips rolling slow and deep—he leans his head back and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven,” he breathes.

You ride him hard, your rhythm building, mouths colliding again and again between moans. His grip bruises your thighs as he thrusts up to meet every movement, his control slipping with every second you stay on top of him.

Then suddenly—he shifts.

His arms wrap under your thighs, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he lifts you.

You gasp as he turns, guiding you onto your back across the seat. He stays inside you the whole time, never letting go, until your back hits the cool leather and he’s towering over you, braced between your legs.

“You okay?” he asks, breath ragged.

You nod, already whining for more.

Then he starts to move again—deep, relentless, rocking the car with every thrust.

He shifts, bracing one hand beneath your thigh to push your leg higher, opening you up to take him deeper. The angle hits something devastating—you cry out, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

Jack leans down, mouth hot at your neck, breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice cracked and raw. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, Jack.”

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip for leverage—then slips between your bodies. His fingers find your clit and start to circle, firm and focused, his pace never faltering.

It sends you over the edge.

You break apart beneath him—back arching, thighs trembling, his name ripped from your mouth like a prayer you didn’t know you were saying.

You’re still shaking when he comes—groaning into your shoulder, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep one last time and lets go.

Afterward, you don’t speak right away.

You’re tangled together. His chest is against yours. His arms still hold you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. Your heartbeat stutters beneath his palm. The windows are fogged, the car soaked in heat and the weight of everything that just happened.

You stroke a hand through the back of his hair, calming him more than you.

Finally, he shifts, settling beside you, your body still half-curled on top of him.

And quietly, you say:

“I followed you out because I thought you were going to leave again.”

He freezes.

You feel his breath catch against your shoulder.

“You left once,” you say. “After I told you how I felt. You didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Just made it clear I’d imagined all of it. And tonight? I thought you were about to do it again.”

His voice is tight when he finally speaks.

“I almost did.”

You nod slowly. “Why didn’t you?”

Jack exhales hard. “Because I saw you with him, and I knew—if I walked away again, I wouldn’t just lose you. I’d be choosing to.”

He turns your face toward him.

“And I couldn’t live with that.”

You search his expression. His hand brushes a strand of hair from your face, and then settles on your cheek.

“I tried to kill it,” he says. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. But it is. And it’s too big to ignore.”

“Big love,” you whisper.

He nods. “Yeah. The kind that burns everything else down.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I waited. Through all of it—every time you pretended you didn’t feel this, too.”

His eyes close. Like the truth hurts more than anything else tonight.

“I don’t know how to want you without wanting all of it,” he admits.

And you don’t need him to explain what all of it means.

The chaos. The risk. The weight.

You nod. “Good. Because I don’t want halfway.”

He leans in—presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, soft now. Careful.

And finally—finally—he says, “Then I won’t run anymore.”

You believe him.

But only because Big Love doesn’t let you run.

It lives. Loud. Messy. Permanent.

And tonight, in the heat of a parked car, Jack finally lets it have him.

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

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