If Robby is the tree then Eliza is the Apple because they are too fucking funny 😂😂😂😂
Oh when Jack fell and he cried I was like my babbyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 and then he tried again and I was like YESSSSS
Ugh I love this I am crying ugly tears 😭♥️🤧
Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three
Warnings: Language might be the only one in this chapter? Very fluffy
Description: After babysitting Eliza and baby Abbot, Jack doesn't exactly sleep with the reader. At Eliza's ice skating recital, the reader decides to help Jack learn how to skate again after losing his foot.
--
Robby leaned against the high counter of the desk hub, pulling his glasses out to read a message on his phone. His wife approached him, bumping him with an elbow when she copied his lean against the desk hub.
“I know something you don’t know.” She greeted in a sing-songy voice.
Without looking up, trying to focus his phone screen through his glasses, Robby answered, “I already know about the patient in Psych One. Had a potato peeler shoved up his ass. Guess who had to remove it.”
She tilted her head, genuinely concerned. “What?”
Robby’s eyes flicked up over his glasses, realizing that was not the gossip she knew. “The patient in Psych One?” He repeated.
She shook her head. “That’s not what I was talking about.” She replied, but then giggled, wrapping an arm around his bicep. “Sorry you had to do that.”
He shrugged. “Not even in the top ten items I’ve pulled out of someone’s ass.” He mumbled before looking at his phone again, holding it an elderly distance away from his face. “What do you know?”
His wife grinned devilishly, pushing his phone away so that she had his full attention. Robby smiled slightly at the excitement in her eyes. “She came to work today in his scrubs.” She revealed.
“Wait, wait…how do you know they’re his?” Robby was incredibly invested now.
“I saw the shirt tag on the scrub tub.” She continued, her smile somehow widening even more. “J Dot Abbot.”
—
Only two more days of working the day shift. That’s the record you kept on loop in your brain—only two more days of annoyingly simple cases that should have gone to urgent care. At least at night, the urgent care centers were closed, and patients had no other choice but to land in the Pitt. But more importantly, only two more shifts until you worked with Jack again.
The words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” had not been uttered, but the connection was intensely deep. When you went home with him after babysitting Eliza and baby Abbot a couple of weeks ago, you thought the trajectory to his bedroom was obvious. The hot kisses against your car door seemed fictional now that he didn’t sleep with you that night. All the signs pointed to his lap, but you ended up in his arms instead, separated by layers of clothes. He hadn’t even removed his prosthesis. You couldn’t complain too much because you woke the next morning, more rested than you had been in years, to the smell of bacon, banana pancakes, and coffee looming from the kitchen.
His chrome ringlets were still holding onto water from the shower, glistening in the early morning sunlight that shone through the window. His massive, flexed forearms looked more delicious than the pancake mix he was stirring. You were met with the warmest, dimple-filled smile as you padded into the kitchen.
“I didn’t want to wake you.” He greeted, voice slow as honey.
You stepped closer, pulling at the sleeve of your lavender sweatshirt from the day before. “I’ve gotta go get my scrubs for work.” You said sheepishly.
Jack pointed to the black scrubs lying on the counter, folded neatly with military precision. “They’re not Figs, but they get the job done.” He noted.
You walked to the counter, pulling the shirt off the top, letting it unfold. A laugh escaped your lungs. “Jack, these are yours.” You scoffed.
“I know.”
A warmth crawled across your cheeks and slithered down your chest. “All this so I can stay for breakfast?” You teased, making your way over to him again.
“Mmhmm. Go on, get changed. I’ll be done here in a minute.” He finished his order with a kiss on your forehead.
That morning had ended with sticky, syrupy kisses before he sent you off to work with a protein bar and an energy drink. When you arrived in the baggier-than-usual black scrubs that smelled perfectly of Jack, sandalwood and citrus, Robby’s wife clocked it immediately. She gave you a nudge on the arm when you stood next to her in front of the patient board.
“Thanks for watching the kids. Eliza told me all about it this morning.” She said.
You smiled, looking at her for a brief second, and you were met with the smuggest, all-knowing smirk. You couldn’t hold back the giggle in your chest. “Nothing happened.” You defended, and it wasn’t a complete lie.
She leaned closer, arms crossed. “Well, something happened because unless your washing machine can magically make clothes grow…” She gestured to your oversized scrubs. “Those are not yours.”
The blush on your cheeks blew your cover. “Fine. I slept over with him…but we did not sleep with each other.” You clarified.
Because of your current schedule, you only saw Jack at shift change if he wasn’t elbows deep in a patient before you got called to another patient’s room. He wouldn’t kiss you or even touch you, but he had a coffee waiting for you in your locker with a fluorescent sticky note that read “Good luck today -J” every single morning. And every morning, you would tape the sticky note to the inside of your locker, creating a colorful collage that began to rival the betting wall. You would prance out of the lounge, warm coffee in your hands, and sit at your desk. And if time allowed, Jack would sit at the computer next to you, charting, and let his knee just barely brush against yours. No words. But you could hear it in the silence.
As you shucked off your gloves after handling your last patient of the day, you heard a tiny voice screech your name, and something clung to your leg. You looked down to see Eliza, hair pulled back into a sleek bun, in a sparkly dress that matched the hot pink cast encasing her arm.
“Oh, where did you come from?” You asked as you hauled the giggling girl into your arms.
“Are you coming to my recital?” She asked, wrapping her arms around your neck.
Before you could answer, you heard hurried, uneven footsteps approach from behind you. “Eliza, do not run away from me like that again.” You heard your soldier’s gravelly voice order. “Do you understand me, young lady?”
You turned around to see Jack, holding baby Abbot in his arms, approaching with an aggravated gait and piercing gaze. Eliza cowered in shame into your shoulder. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” She mumbled, giving him the biggest, brownest, puppy dog eyes you had ever seen.
And Jack was a sucker for that little girl. The frustration immediately washed from his face, and he placed a gentle hand on her back. “It’s okay, princess. You just need to hold an adult’s hand when you’re here, okay?” He soothed.
Eliza nodded in innocent understanding. “Okay.” She answered.
Jack shook his head but smiled nonetheless. Finally, he focused on you, eyes softening when they met yours. “Hi.” He greeted with a sigh.
You nudged your shoulder against his, itching for a sliver of physical contact. “Hey.” You replied. “Dropping off the kids?”
Jack shifted baby Abbot in his arms so that you could see his chubby little face. You ran a gentle finger against his cheek, and the baby smiled. “Yeah. Eliza has an ice skating recital tonight, so we’re gonna watch the ice princess do her thing.” He answered, poking at Eliza’s side, illiciting a giggle from her. “You coming?” He asked you.
Even though you only hesitated for just a second, Eliza immediately piped up, holding your face in her tiny hands. “Please come see me skate!” She begged with those same convincing eyes she had flashed at Jack just moments ago. Damn, Robinavitches can get whatever they want with those eyes.
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You assured her.
Eliza cheered in excitement, hugging your neck tightly. You laughed and squeezed her closer. It felt so natural now, holding her like this, like she was your family. Baby Abbot began to kick his legs and babble with a gummy smile as he looked behind you and Jack.
“Hey, little man.” Robby’s uncharacteristically, overly-cheerful voice came from behind you.
“Daddy!” Eliza immediately squirmed out of your arms, reaching for her father.
Robby carefully took her into his arms, pressing a squishy kiss against her cheek. “Hey, big girl.” He greeted her before pulling her away slightly to look her in the eyes. “I heard Uncle Jack get on to you. What happened?”
He looked at Jack, waiting for an answer, but Jack only gestured to Eliza, letting her explain. Eliza looked down, an ashamed pout on her face. “I ran away from him so I could hug her.” She said, pointing towards you at the end.
Robby nodded, squeezing her a little tighter at the thought of her being snatched up by some deranged patient. “You know the rules, Eliza. If you come to see Mommy and Daddy at work, you have to stay with a grown-up. No running away.” He lectured. “It’s to keep you safe, okay?”
The little girl nodded, moving her hands to play with his beard. “Yes, sir.” She replied, still ashamed, but with an adorable respectfulness.
And just like Jack, he was no match for her sweetness. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Are you ready to skate?” He asked with a playful seriousness.
Eliza grinned and pulled at the mesh sleeve of her skater dress. “Yes!” She affirmed. “Is Nana coming to watch?” She asked, looking around for the blond charge nurse.
Robby nodded. “Yes, she’s going to meet us there. She had to leave a little early, but you’ll see her when we get to the rink.” He assured.
The little girl smiled big, excited that her whole family would be there to see her figure skating. Robby’s wife approached your huddle, greeting both of her babies with a kiss on the cheek. Jack, almost reluctantly, handed over baby Abbot to his mother.
“Are we ready to go?” She asked, resting her forehead on baby Abbot’s head, absorbing his cuteness after a rough shift.
Robby looked around, searching for a certain attending holding his signature iced coffee. “I need to talk to Shen before shift change. You might need to head on without me so she isn’t late for warm up.” He answered.
His wife nodded. “Okay, I can take the truck. Gonna ride with Jack?”
Jack gave a nonchalant thumbs up, affirming the plan. Robby nodded before focusing his attention on Eliza. “Daddy has to work a little bit longer. You’re gonna go ahead with Mommy and-”
“No!” Eliza exclaimed, face scrunching with frustration.
It caught everyone off guard. It was rare for the angelic child to have any kind of outburst. Robby’s brow furrowed. “Eliza.” He said sternly.
“No, Daddy!” Her big, brown eyes began to well up with tears. “You said that last time, and you didn’t come watch me skate.”
There was an uncomfortable silence amongst all of you, but everyone else seemed to know a backstory that you didn’t. Robby’s wife stepped forward, one arm holding up baby Abbot, and the other moving to rub soothing circles on Eliza’s back. “Sweetheart, Daddy is going to watch you skate. Last time was different.”
Eliza’s bottom lip quivered as she grabbed her dad’s face, fingers nestling in his beard. “Pinky promise?” She begged.
Robby took in a shaky breath, something unusual in his eyes. Oh…those were tears. Not heavy enough to fall, but just enough to reflect light. He wrapped his large pinky around the tiny one that settled on his face. “Pinky promise.” He whispered.
Reluctantly, he let go of his daughter, so she could walk with his wife to the car. Jack noticed Robby’s distress and, for the first time in public, grabbed your hand in his.
“Why don’t you ride with them? I’ll make sure Robby gets there.” He mumbled, only low enough for your group to hear.
You nodded, offering a small smile. “Okay.” You squeezed his hand once before heading off with Robby’s wife and the kids.
–
You sat in the bleachers next to Robby’s wife. She had wrapped baby Abbot snugly in a warm blanket so he wouldn’t get cold from the chilly indoor air. Eliza moved around the ice with her friends, more advanced than the other five-year-olds.
“I’m sorry about that.” Robby’s wife finally said.
You raised your eyebrows in confusion. “For what?”
“For Eliza’s outburst back at the Pitt.” She elaborated.
You shrugged, offering a reassuring smile. “Kids will be kids.”
She sighed, shaking her head as she seemed to relive a painful moment. “A few months ago, right when Abbot was born, she had a competition. Jack was watching the baby for us, so Robby and I could both come to the rink. But right as we were leaving, five MVC patients came in. So I took Eliza, and Robby had to stay behind and help Shen.” She explained, shifting the baby boy in her arms so that he could rest comfortably as his eyelids began to droop. “It was the first time he missed any competition or recital.”
You winced, knowing there was no way to explain that situation to a young child. “I’m assuming she didn't take it well?” You added.
Robby’s wife huffed a sarcastic laugh. “You would be correct. She cried and cried, even when he got home. Eventually, she tired herself out, but it was the first time she wouldn’t let him put her to bed.” She continued, frowning again as she said, “Robby cried for an hour that night.”
You felt your heart ache at the thought of one of your mentors crying over his little girl. “I know that was hard for him. He loves her so much.” You replied.
She nodded and smiled slightly. “He’s the best dad. He’s always talking about how the kids and I are his second chance at life. How we brought the light back into him…” Her smile grew warmly as she reminisced on her marriage and family.
You couldn’t help but smile with her. Footsteps approaching behind you distracted you from your conversation. Robby and Jack walked down the stairs of the bleachers, arms linked to give Jack extra balance. They each held a bouquet of roses, undoubtedly for Eliza after the recital. A quiet “Thanks, brother” was all you heard before the men settled on either side of the two of you. Robby leaned in to kiss his wife, mumbling something that you couldn’t quite decipher.
Meanwhile, Jack bumped his shoulder against yours, gaining your focus. “You ready to be on night shift again?” He asked.
You pretended to hesitate. “I mean, I guess…” You trailed off, looking away from his gorgeous stare.
He chuckled and looked out at the ice rink. “Ouch.”
Cautiously, you grasped the interior hook of his elbow, placing your other hand on his bicep, and leaned close. “Ready to be with the night shift people again.”
He tilted his head lower to rest on yours, his arm flexing under your grasp. “The people?” He questioned. “Like all of them…or some of them…or just one of them…?”
You giggled at his antics, lightly squeezing his bicep. “Just one of them.” You confirmed.
Music began to play overhead, and all of the little ice skaters lined up. Eliza looked out into the bleachers amongst the other parents, searching for her family. The four of you clocked it, and you all waved at her. Even from a distance, you could see her excited grin as she waved back. Someone sat behind you on the bleachers, patting Jack’s shoulder.
“You know, you need to whip your night shift into shape.” Dana’s voice grumbled. “I left an hour late because of them.”
Jack turned around, an offended look on his face. “My night shift? It’s Robby’s department.” He defended.
Robby peeked his head up at the sound of his name being brought into an argument. “Not my monkeys, not my circus.” He retorted.
Jack huffed. “Um, it absolutely is your circus. You’re the fucking ringleader.”
“Yeah, but not night shift. They’re another breed.” Robby replied, eyes focused on his daughter.
Dana raised an eyebrow at Jack, waiting for his next response. “Whatcha gotta say about that, Lieutenant Colonel?” She taunted.
Jack waved her off. “Can you leave me alone? I’m trying to watch my niece.” He complained.
You looked up to him. “The recital hasn’t started yet, they’re just doing warm-up drills.” You countered.
His bewildered eyes flicked to you. “And it’s cute.”
Dana chuckled before waving at baby Abbot, who giggled at her. “Hey there, sweet boy.” She greeted.
The baby reached for her, and Robby’s wife willingly exchanged him to Dana’s arms so she could record the recital on her phone. You heard Dana mumble something about “Maybe we’ll just rename you Daniel,” as the lights in the bleachers dimmed, and the rink illuminated the tiny dancers in their glittery outfits.
–
The music ended, and the audience cheered for their kids. The little skaters made their way off the ice, and you all met Eliza at the bottom of the bleachers. She carefully wobbled over to her parents’ embrace. Robby snatched her up so they could kiss her cheeks.
“You did so good, baby girl!” His wife praised.
She giggled and covered her face. “Thank you, Mommy.” She answered politely.
Robby lifted the bouquet of light pink roses that he had concealed behind his back. “These are for you.” He announced with the chivalry of a prince.
Eliza’s eyes widened. “Flowers!” She exclaimed. “I love flowers!”
Jack smiled and held up his bouquet of white roses to her. “Then I guess you’ll like these, too.” He suggested.
The little girl could not fathom that she had so many flowers. The bouquets in her little arms nearly took up her whole body.
“What do you say?” Robby’s wife cued.
Eliza wrapped her arms around the necks of both men, squeezing them in until the sides of their heads bumped together. “Thank you, Daddy and Uncle Jack!”
They both pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jack caring so deeply for his niece. Dana bounced baby Abbot in her arms and reached for her phone.
“Okay, we need a family picture.” She announced.
Robby’s wife reached for baby Abbot. She sat him up in her arms and nestled into Robby’s embrace, squishing their family together. Dana took several pictures while you and Jack made silly faces behind her to make the baby laugh, inevitably making Eliza giggle, too.
“We need a big family picture!” The little girl exclaimed.
You absentmindedly reached for Dana’s phone to take a picture of all of them. Robby stopped her by saying, “What are you doing? You’re in the picture.”
Oh. You were in the family now. Jack smiled, holding his arm out for you to curl into for the picture. You handed the phone to another parent and wrapped your arm around Jack, leaning in close. After the picture, he pressed the most subtle kiss to your temple, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.
“Can we skate now?” Eliza asked her parents.
Robby’s wife smiled. “Yeah, let me get our skates out of Daddy’s truck, okay?”
You looked to them, a little confused. Jack caught your expression. “They let the families free skate with their kids after the recital.” He explained.
You nodded slowly before looking up at him again. “Are you gonna skate?”
There was a hint of sadness in his gold-flecked eyes that hit you in the chest. “I don’t skate anymore.” He answered, wiggling his right foot.
Robby shifted Eliza in his arms so that she sat on the side of his hip. “It’s a shame. Me and Jack used to play in a pick-up hockey league when we were young.” He revealed.
Your eyes widened, mouth dropping in shock. “Excuse me?”
Jack chuckled and crossed his arms. “We are still young.” He protested.
Dana scoffed and rolled her eyes. “God will strike you down for lying.” She warned. “They used to come in to work with bloody noses and sprained fingers. They’re lucky they worked in a trauma center.”
The old men waved her off but still laughed. Robby’s wife returned with a duffel bag with two pairs of skates. You sat on the bleachers with Jack as they pulled the skates on and set off on the ice with their daughter holding each of their hands. Dana sat behind you both a few rows up, cradling baby Abbot as he slept in his warm blanket.
You leaned your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watched Robby expertly move across the ice. “Do you miss it?” You finally asked.
Jack looked down at you, trying to read your expression. “Miss what?” He questioned.
“Skating?” You clarified.
The silence that followed seemed never-ending. You worried that you might have struck a nerve, but then he quietly answered, “Yeah, I do.”
You smiled slightly. “Then, why don’t we go out there?”
He let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know…”
“Why? Are you scared?” You taunted with a smirk, thinking if you playfully challenged him, he might cave.
Jack’s eyes met yours, and boy, you could see that vulnerability again. “Yes.” His answer was short and quick.
You smiled reassuringly. “What’s your skate size?”
“14.”
“Oh.” Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that large of a number. “Well, you know what they say.” You said with a wink.
Jack rolled his eyes but chuckled at you as you pranced away to the skate rental booth. You were going to be the death of him.
–
You stepped onto the ice, ankles stabilizing as the traction under your feet changed. The ice wasn’t fresh, but you had no issue gliding a couple of feet. You carefully turned around to help Jack. But he waited at the entrance, stricken with fear. His eyes were blown wider than usual, and his chest moved quickly. He looked like he was about to jump out of a plane and not step onto an ice rink.
A couple of steps, and you were right in front of him. Your hands reached out to grab his with a grounding firmness. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” You promised.
He only nodded. He shifted in the skates uncomfortably, like he had every intention to take a step forward, but his feet still didn’t move. His grip on your hands tightened so much that they began to shake.
“Jack?” You whispered.
He didn’t look at you. Only stared at the ice before him like it was a lava floor. “Hmm?”
You decided to take a trick out of his book. You moved your head until his eyes had no choice but to meet yours. Seeking out the contact. His whiskey eyes were nearly black from dilation. The fear was truly crippling him. “I’ve got you, baby.” Your voice was powerfully gentle.
Baby. You called him baby. The first term of endearment between each other. The word left your lips so naturally, like you had called him baby a thousand times already. It was enough to ground him. It was enough to move his left foot forward, letting the blade touch the ice.
You turned your ankles in to stabilize yourself on the ice so you could wrap your arm around his waist. His hands moved to your shoulders, grabbing painfully tight, but you didn’t care.
“You’re doing so good, Jack.” You sang sweetly.
The softness in your voice was the same one you spoke to Eliza with, but he didn’t feel patronized. He felt stronger and affirmed by the way you said his name. He swallowed hard when he began to move his right foot up to the ice.
“There you go.” The praise continued to fall from your lips.
Finally, the blade hit the ice. The feeling was so foreign to him. There were no sensors in his foot to feel the slickness of the ice. He had to predict it from halfway up his shin. Since he was a child, he could skate on ice better than he could run, and he was a fucking track star. After losing his right foot, he hadn’t dared to get on the ice again. Not because he couldn’t. He had learned to walk and run again with enough physical therapy. But he was afraid that he couldn’t. The confirmation that he couldn’t do something was terrifying.
Jack took the smallest step forward with his right foot, studying the way his balance reacted to the ice. You patiently waited as he loosened the painful grip on your shoulders, moving his hands down to your forearms.
Slowly, you skated backwards, pulling him with you. His feet moved cautiously, and his breathing began to deepen with confidence.
“That’s it. You’re doing it.” You said, not raising your voice enough to draw attention, but enough to make him look up.
The beaming smile on your face could have melted the entire rink. Jack knew in that moment that he had never been looked at with such pride and love in his life. Your eyes told him that he had hung the stars, and he believed it. A smile tugged at his lips, daring to share in your happiness.
The happiness only lasted for a few more feet and cautious feet shuffling. His skate caught in a groove that yours had managed to avoid. The fall happened so fast, but you were ready to catch him in your arms and drop to the ice, undoubtedly hitting your head. But that wasn’t what happened. You never hit the ice. Your entire body was cushioned by his. In that split second, your soldier had changed the trajectory of your fall, taking your place of hitting the ice.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Was the first thing you heard from him, his voice breaking. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”
You sat up quickly to see him below you, fighting back the pain that had to be wracking through his body. You pulled him to sit up, grabbing his face in your hands.
“Jack, I’m fine. Are you okay?” You asked, scanning his body for any dislocated or broken limbs.
Before he could answer, the smallest “Uncle Jack!” rang from across the rink. You both looked up to see Eliza scurrying over. Knowing she was moving too fast and couldn’t stop herself without falling, you caught her in your arms.
“Uncle Jack, are you okay?” She asked, the worry palpable in her question.
Jack faked a smile, but you could see him cracking behind it. “I’m okay, princess.” He confirmed. “Just fell down.”
Eliza threw her arms around his neck, and for the first time that you had seen, he didn’t relax or let go of his troubles. He numbly hugged his niece, eyes devoid of the usual joy she could impart.
Robby quickly approached, kicking up a wave of shaved ice as he halted next to you. “You alright, brother?” He asked as he knelt down.
Jack continued holding Eliza, hoping that eventually the pain would numb if he did. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I’m not ready.” He said, looking up at Robby.
While the comment was clearly about ice skating to your ears, Robby knew its double meaning. Just as he was about to speak, your voice cut through. “Jack. You have to keep trying.”
Jack shook his head, letting go of Eliza. He began to struggle, wanting to stand up, but the skates kept slipping as he tried to get a grip. “I don’t think I can do this.”
You put a settling hand on his shoulder, letting it drag to his sharp jaw, forcing eye contact again. “Well, I know you can.” You reinforced.
This time, Jack’s eyes were glassy. The threat of tears loomed off the distance in the storm in his eyes. Your thumb brushed his cheek, ready to fight back against anything that fell.
Eliza moved over to Robby, letting him place a protective hand to stabilize her. “It’s okay, Uncle Jack. I fall down all the time, but Daddy says ‘Suck it up, buttercup.’” She imparted her wisdom.
The tension broke. Everyone burst into laughter at the little girl’s innocent pep talk. Robby pulled his daughter tightly into his arms, shoulders still shaking with chuckles, and kissed her forehead. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He said.
When you could see clearly again after recovering from laughter, you looked at Jack. He lost the battle to tears, letting them fall freely as he smiled. With the sleeve of your underscrub shirt, you wiped them away before Eliza could see them and worry further.
“You have your own army around you, Jack. We’re with you every step of the way.” You assured him.
Jack took a much-needed deep breath and reached to grasp your hand resting on his jaw. He looked up to Robby, who smiled and gave him a playful salute. He never imagined that he would find himself uttering these words as his grown ass age, but he finally said, “Okay. I can try again.” His voice was stronger now, the gravel back in his words.
You and Robby helped him stand to his feet on either side of him. With one arm thrown around each of your shoulders, he stabilized on the ice, testing the pressure on his right foot. Eliza danced ahead, doing her little twirls showcased in her recital.
“Eliza, you don’t have to show off.” Jack called out to her. “Let Uncle Jack get his sea legs back.”
The little girl giggled as she continued to prance on the ice. Carefully, you and Robby moved to help Jack adjust to how his body balanced on the ice. Tiny steps, shuffling forward, left foot always moving more confidently than the right.
“You’re gonna be skating circles around me again pretty soon, brother.” Robby said, and it drew a laugh from Jack.
“I’ll have to pull my hockey stick out of the attic. Gotta teach Abbot how play since he doesn’t have anyone else to teach him.” He replied.
Robby chuckled and held back the urge to shove him. “You’re forgetting that I am the only thing between safety and falling back on your ass right now.” He teased.
The old men laughed, but not like usual. Like they were boys again, fresh out of medical school, having fun before they had split for different residency programs. Just like old times. As if on cue, tiny screams could be heard from the bleachers outside the rink. Robby’s wife was bouncing baby Abbot in her arms, trying to soothe him, with Dana at her side. She looked out to the ice desperately, and Robby let out a sigh. He looked at you, brow furrowed with conflict.
“I need to go help her. You got him?” He asked.
The look in his eyes transcended the simple question. Asking not if you could keep him from falling, but if you could care for him. If you could support him more than just on the ice rink. If you could handle him. You nodded, wrapping your arm tighter around Jack’s waist. “I’ve got him.” You affirmed, a small nod to let him know that you read past the question.
Robby smiled slightly and let go of Jack. “Alright, brother. Stay with her, alright?” He said before quickly moving off the rink to tend to his family, Eliza following behind him.
After a few moments of shuffling carefully, never fully picking your skates off the ice, you spoke up. “I’m sorry for pushing you to do this. You weren’t comfortable.” You apologized.
Jack stopped his movements, pulling you back to him when you glided a couple of inches ahead. “I needed this.” He replied, squeezing your hand tightly. He led your hand to his chest, then wrapped his arms around your waist. “I need you.” He added.
His breath was hot on your cheeks, warming from the cold air that surrounded you. You rubbed small circles on his chest, able to trace the muscles that hid beneath his shirt. “Need me how?” You asked.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “In every sense of the word.” He leaned closer, your noses brushing. “I need you.” He repeated.
His lips captured yours in a tender kiss, and he pulled your body as close as it could get to his, threatening to combine skin cells together. One hand trailed to his jaw, massaging the muscles there as he brushed his tongue against your lips. Fortunately, you were snapped back to reality and reminded of your public location because a shriek from the bleachers rang through the rink:
“Mommy! Daddy! They’re kissing just like you said!”
—
In the car on the way home, Robby and his wife whispered quietly as he drove, careful not to wake the exhausted kids in the backseat.
“He’s in love with her.” He finally suggested.
His wife looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “How do you know?” She asked.
Robby smiled and squeezed her hand he held across the console. “Because he’s looking at her the way I look at you.”
She smiled bashfully and shook her head. “Be serious.”
“I am. Jack never even looked at his first wife that way. There’s a connection between them that’s just…different. I saw it tonight with my own eyes.” He explained, twirling the wedding and engagement ring on her finger.
“They’re taking it slow. Much slower than we did.” She teased.
Robby chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips. “It’s hard to take it slow with you. With that laugh. That smile. That body…” He trailed his kisses up her forearm, still managing to watch the road.
“Robby, stop it.” His wife demanded, but she didn’t really mean it.
“I think Abbot wants to be a big brother.”
“Michael!”
--
A/N: Thank y'all for reading! I don't know why but I just have this headcanon where Robby and Jack used to play pick-up hockey before his accident. Thank you all for reading! Chapter 4 will be a veryyy spicy one!
Whatamannnnnnnnn
─ Dr. Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 3k
SYNOPSIS: You crave to feel your lover differently, and Jack is happy to satisfy your needs.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Jack is late 40s, reader is late 20s/early 30s]. Power imbalance mention [Attending/Resident]. Established "secret" relationship. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p in v). Mentions of oral (f! receiving) & fingering. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Dirty talk. Brief mentions of birth control & safe sex practices. They fuck nasty and are down bad for each other. Reader is described to have hair. Jack Abbot is a really good partner. Brief mentions of Jack’s scars & allusions to a vasectomy he had in the past.
A/N: This all came to me in a dream lmao. I just had a certain itch I needed to scratch and I wanted to talk about getting creampied by a fine ass old man, so this was the product of that thought. I hope you all enjoy this and join me in feening for this man. Proofread by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3
NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3
You’d never really consider yourself a greedy or selfish person, but when it came to Jack Abbot, you just couldn’t help yourself.
On your first day of residency at the Pitt, your attention instantly gravitated to him. He carried himself so confidently at times, never crossing the line of stepping into arrogance like some of the surgeons he complained about. He kept his head high, back straight, and shoulders flared as he maneuvered around patients and rooms alike, commanding every space with a calm confidence you almost envied.
Coffee and light teasing exchanged in the emergency department turned into cold beers and tipsy laughter at the local bar everyone frequented after long shifts or on their off-days. One drink too many resulted in a not-so-accidental one-night stand with the enigma of a man that was Dr. Abbot. You wondered if he regretted it by the time you woke up in the morning, hair a mess over your head, going in different directions; doing your best to bury the disappointment tugging at your chest when the other side of the bed was found empty.
Much to your surprise, light clanking from your kitchen forced you back on your feet, spotting Jack working over the stove, the smell of eggs and fresh toast wafting through your apartment. His jeans hung low on his hips, unbuttoned, with his black briefs hiding the rest of him. He turns when he senses your presence, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a small grin at the sight of you, slightly disheveled and wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before.
“Morning. Stole some of your coffee; hope you don’t mind.”
You were doomed from the start.
It never stopped after that; a one-night stand turned into several over the course of one month, and one month turned into two. You found yourself in the consistent presence of Dr. Abbot, who was always there to satisfy your needs, whatever they may be. He learned how to read you, your likes and dislikes, your quirks, and the things that made you happy and tick in agitation. The few weeks you spent with him in secret amounted to the moment Jack popped the question of exclusivity one night, and you were more than happy to say yes.
Now here you were, Dr. Abbot’s favorite night-shift resident at work and his girl when you two were alone. You already had him wrapped around your finger, hitting close to five months of being with him and selfishly enjoying his company in this bubble you’ve created for yourselves away from prying eyes.
And yet you still wanted more.
You couldn’t quite explain what happened along the way, why you simply couldn’t stop finding any little moment to touch him, to kiss him, to taste him. You just knew you wanted every part of him to yourself, and he was ready to give it.
All but one.
Your sex life with Jack was already more than satisfactory, and even using a word as simple as that was a disservice in describing your experiences with him. Hell, you’re pretty sure he’s ruined you for anyone else, and you don’t plan on finding another to take his place any time soon. But there was this one pesky thing that still kept you separated from him.
The damn rubber.
Jack was almost too good for you—a softie despite his take-no-shit attitude, always sweet and considerate when it came to you. Of course, that translated to when he fucked you, prioritizing your safety and pleasure above all else, including maintaining recommended sexual habits. You can’t blame him; he’s not an idiot, and neither are you, but at times it irks you to still have something getting in the way of feeling him the way you wanted.
It almost pissed you off how badly you craved him, desperately holding on to him and pulling him closer when he was too busy fucking you into the mattress. His face dug into the crook of your neck, grunting as your walls fluttered around his length, your arousal covering the thin non-latex material that separated your bodies. Just the thought of it made you whine, clawing at his shoulders and wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.
You knew he was getting close from the way his breathing rumbled deep within his chest, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts picked up in force. The words that had been swirling in your head for the past 30 minutes slipped out of your mouth and into his ear before you could stop them.
“Fill me up, baby.”
He groans when he hears you, slamming his hips hard against yours, a curse tumbling from his mouth as he fills up the condom. He draws a final sigh from you before pulling out to dispose of the wretched thing while you remain occupied with taking a peek at his ass as he heads to the bathroom.
Having sex without protection was something Jack didn’t think to bring up or mention. The last thing he wanted was to make you assume all you were to him was a toy to be used when it's convenient and discarded when he grew bored of you. He already had the displeasure of approaching sex that way when he was younger and reckless; he vowed to never do that again, especially with you. And of course, you didn’t want to potentially ruin the relationship you’ve worked so hard to build with your attending.
As much as he wanted to deny it, your words tormented him, playing in his mind on loop so frequently he started dreaming about feeling you with no barriers, claiming you properly. He knows once you hit that stage in your fairly new relationship, there’s no going back. From the way you struggled to hide the slightest tinge of disappointment whenever he ripped open the foil wrapper in front of you, he knew the conversation would happen eventually.
“What if next time, we just don’t use anything? Protection, I mean.” You blurt out to him in the kitchen, wringing your hands together as Jack busied himself washing the dishes after dinner. He finished up and dried his hands, pivoting to face where you leaned against the island.
“Is that what you want?” He asks carefully, his eyes boring into yours gently, the way he always did when speaking to those he cared about. “Surprises aren’t exactly what I’m worried about; we’re good on that end, but, it’s whatever you want to do, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I want to try it out.” You feel his hands coming towards your waist, a comforting gap of space between as you mess with the collar of his t-shirt. “It’s not that our sex life isn’t fun or anything; I very much enjoy sleeping with you.”
“I sure hope so considering how much I risk pulling my back doing all the work.” You playfully slap his chest, rolling your eyes at his teasing smirk.
“I just…I want to feel you, all of you. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch sort of thing, and it feels stupid explaining it, but it’s a thing, okay. Don’t fucking laugh at me.”
Jack couldn’t help but chuckle dryly at your mild panic, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, planting a kiss on your cheek and squeezing your hips in reassurance.
“Not laughing at you, I just think it’s cute how flustered you’re getting when you’re begging me to fuck you raw.”
“Now why are you saying it like that? It sounds raunchy coming from you.” He only laughs harder.
“I think we’re way past the point of calling what we do raunchy in our relationship, don’t you think?” There’s a faint glint in his hazel eyes when he takes in your features again, his fingers pinch your chin, holding your gaze. “Besides, you aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about it. I was just waiting for you to crack first.”
That’s how you found yourself in this position now.
Your cunt pulsed from the lavish attention bestowed by the older man above, who already made you cum once using his mouth and again in combination with his thick fingers. Even with the two orgasms you gladly took, your body clenched around nothing as you watched Jack lazily jerk himself off, dark eyes raking over your bare body. By now, he’d be tearing open another one of those flimsy foil packets and slipping inside you. Instead, your legs subconsciously widened even more, beckoning him closer to you in an attempt to take you.
Notching the tip of his length at your entrance, he groaned at the feel of you, shifting his hips to grind against your heat as more of your wetness coated the underside of his cock.
“Last chance to take it back, sweetheart.” He quirked, meeting your hazy eyes—glossed over and feral as you admired his broad silhouette and tempting movements.
“Shut up and fuck me already.” You only seemed to be thinking with your downstairs brain, your thirst for more overriding common sense, not that he was complaining.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He angled himself over you, keeping his observant eyes on your face as he started pushing into you, slowly sinking deeper into your welcoming body. Jack didn’t expect you to feel so damn hot, your walls surrounding his cock like a vice, like you were made for it. Your hands flew to grasp his bicep, gasping at the bare feel of him for the first time. Eyes fluttering closed, a whimper lurched out of your mouth when he was down to the hilt, the trimmed hairs by his pubic bone rubbing against your sensitive nub, causing you to twitch around him on instinct.
As he sat inside you and let you adjust to him, you could feel everything—every ridge, every vein, every swell and throb his body gave you, even his damn pulse. It was bringing you closer to the deep end.
“Jack…” You mumbled his name, blinking slowly as his nostrils flared.
“Hold on, hold on, don’t move.” Large hands clutched your hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress with his strength. “You feel so good.”
“Yeah?” The compliment took the rest of the empty space in your head, your thighs taking their rightful place around his waist, knees bracketing over his sharp hips.
“So damn warm and wet…God.” It sounded like Jack wasn’t talking to you anymore but reiterating his own innermost thoughts, filter gone. His attention trailed down to where your bodies were joined together, shifting his hips back to watch your lower set of lips part for him, your slick covering his skin. You moved towards him, already missing the stretch of him inside you, and Jack was just as eager to give you what you needed.
“Look at her. Taking me so well, like she always does.” Thrusting forward, he didn’t spare you an inch, drawing back just to pound into you again and again.
The friction of his hips intensifies the more he gets to feel you, and soon enough the four walls of your shared bedroom are filled with the audible slapping of skin as you lose yourselves in each other. Jack’s hips pummeled into you with a force you weren’t completely unfamiliar with, but this carnal need to have more of him creeps onto the surface. Your nails raked down his freckled arms and the planes of his shoulders, encouraging Jack to buck into you harder with your sweet cries.
It all felt too fucking good, like a dream.
You didn’t want him to stop, your legs winding tighter around his torso, mewling when he hit that textured spot tucked inside you with practiced accuracy, head thrown back against the pillow as you focused on catching each one of his harsh lunges. A hand sneaked to the back of your head, grasping the nape of your neck and angling your face to look up at Jack, the smallest bit of sweat lining up on his forehead.
“Keep those eyes on me, baby. Want to see your pretty face when you come for me.” He practically snarled over you, leaning down to roughly plant a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, swallowing all of the petulant sounds he brought out of you. “Perfect fucking pussy, and all mine.”
“All yours, Jack.” You parroted, nodding dumbly from the impact of his movements against you. “I’m all yours, sir.”
His grin turned predatory at your needy words, both hands curling around your thighs to angle them higher up, your knees now pinned to your chest, allowing him to dig just a bit deeper into you. You jolted from the change in position, one hand rushing to press against his lower stomach, fingertips skimming the raised scars along his side, long faded and meshed with the rest of him.
He was unfazed by your movements, holding you steady, and upped his efforts against you. Your arousal practically seeped out of you, pooling at the base of him and dripping down his balls. Another whimper echoed in the room, your clouded gaze glanced down to watch Jack fuck you, mesmerized at the shine you left over him. You didn’t need to warn him that another release was swirling in your gut; your body language did all the talking for you.
“Know you’re close, honey. Can feel you getting tighter around me, damn near choking me.” He grunts, adding a swivel to his precise advances into you. “C’mon, need you to drench me. Let me feel you.”
Three more drives into you, and your third orgasm hit you so ardently your whole body trembled, a silent cry flying out of your mouth. Jack observed your reaction with hungry eyes, cooing at your cock-drunk expression, drool starting to spill out the corner of your lip.
He knew it was only a matter of time before he hit his peak, the tension in his body building in his core, and with the way you haven’t stopped convulsing around him, it will catch him off guard sooner than later. Through the haze of ecstasy, you found your voice and mumbled at him, the lust-filled mania that started this whole ordeal possessing you.
“Jack,” his attention was drawn to your face, plump lips and warm cheeks mirroring his ravenous stare, “I need you to come inside me.”
“You want it that bad, huh?” He was struggling to keep it together, his mind already hyper-focused on finishing inside until you took every damn drop. “So desperate to have your old man fill up your greedy pussy, hm?”
“Yes! Yes!” Tears streaked down your face at the mere thought of getting to feel him like this; the promise of getting what you wanted after so long was enough to overwhelm you. “Please, Jack. I need it; need to feel it. Want to feel you tomorrow, baby.”
That fired him up; the sight of your watery eyes motivated him to flex his forearms and force you to take all of him as he chased his prolonged release. A few more jabs and he was done for, digging his face into the crook of your neck and biting your shoulder to suppress the loud growl that buzzed through him. His hips were flush with yours, giving you everything he had to give, his thighs trembling and stomach almost cramping from his violent climax.
His orgasm felt never-ending; he just couldn’t stop, your body melting from the inside out as you held him above you until he plopped on top of you, pelvis subconsciously grinding into you more, never wanting to leave your warmth.
“Jesus.” You heard Jack murmur against you, placing light kisses over the indents of his teeth on your shoulder. His mouth followed a path up to the column of your throat, your jaw, and to your lips, offering you sweet pecks. “You alright?”
“Mhm,” you hummed at his affections, the rest of your limbs becoming one with the mattress under you. “Didn’t break me yet, though I don’t think I can feel my legs.”
“Means I did my job well.” Both ends of his mouth curl upwards, mimicking his expression as he gently wipes your tears away.
Carefully, he took hold of your legs, bringing them back down to the bed, rubbing them with an apologetic smile as you quivered. With ease, Jack maneuvers himself to pull out of you, his eyes going to your pussy and the mess he made of you. He catches the way his spend drips out of your opening and stains the sheets below you, a sight he was committing to memory for the first time.
A carnal urge flares within him, his curiosity getting the best of him as he brings a hand to the most sensitive part of you, his thumb spreading you out to get a better look at you. More of his seed dribbled out of you, tainting the thick digit as he smeared more of himself over the rest of your cunt. You gasped at the sensation, his thumb circling over your slick pearl, squirming under his touch from the overstimulation.
“I get the appeal now,” he says to himself again, swiftly bringing two of his fingers to scoop the rest of him and sink them back into your hole, serving as a plug to keep his release inside you. You keened at him, clutching his thick wrist as he breached your body with his hand, your breath hitching in your throat.
“Jack…”
“So pretty when you’re so full of me.” You clench around him, the sensation sending a current of pleasure coursing through him, his cock twitching again at the thought of having you again. “You can take a little more, right?”
Who were you to say no to that? You couldn’t get enough of him, and when it came to Jack Abbot, you always made room for seconds and more.
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I need a mutual to let me brain rot about a very specific idea I have for Jack Abbot x doctor!reader. An outline of events, if you will.
I can’t get this out of my head:
Jack sees the shock on your face before he hears the words he had just said to you.
When had the wind been this defeaning? Or was it the silence?
“J-Jack…you don’t…don’t say th-”
“I’d do it with you. Have kids.” He said again, more definitely this time. More concrete. More real. He thinks about all the time he’s spent alone, of the kind of life he could’ve had had things been different. How you’re a different person, a different doctor, more fierce in every way when a child patient comes through those doors.
And fuck, if it doesn’t make his heart squeeze when he thinks what that can be like with you.
“We don’t have to get married.” He says, eyes watching how your throat constricts and your lips wobbles, tears threatening to free fall again.
His face leans in closer to yours, how it normally does whenever he’s seen you doubt yourself and willed every bit of confidence in you.
“But I want this for you, I want this with you. That asshole down there made you feel like you had to choose one thing and give up another, but you don’t have to give up anything with me. You can have it all, and I want to make that happen for you, if that’s what you want.”
Lord knows he’d rather chew sand than let himself be this vulnerable again.
But with you, he didn’t have to be afraid of anything at all.
Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader
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Summary: the silence, the distance, the questions, the longing.
[ Series Masterlist ]
Note: sorry this one is on the shorter side, I didn’t want to combine it with the previous chapter or with the next one. thank you all for the comments on the last two chapters, they really make my day🥹and thank you for all the likes, reblogs and follows too omg
and I spoiled y’all with a double update last time for all the angst I’m about to put you through🤗
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: age gap, foul language, angst, avoiding feelings, alcohol, hospital inaccuracies, injury/blood mentions
not beta read
Michael sat on the couch, frozen to it, long after his front door had closed. The hockey game was little more than white noise to him now, completely uncaring that his team was now winning. His ears rang and he tried to control his breathing.
Why had he done that? And secondly, why had he let you go?
The first question was easy enough to answer: he had gotten swept up in the moment and he let it carry him a bit too far. Surely, it was only that, if he ignored the feelings swirling around in his chest like a storm ready to break.
The second? Well, it was clear you needed to run away, not able to face your regret head on. How could he blame you? Who wanted to deal with an old man like him? Their age gap alone was sure to send most running for the hills. How on earth could you want him, with his quiet melancholy and emotional baggage?
It churned in his gut like it had begun to fester, and all he could do was sit there and let it rot.
He was unsure how he had allowed your arrangement to bleed into anything else—it was supposed to be easy, no attachments and certainly no complex emotions. An uncomplicated solace to help him process the bad days, and maybe even move on from the grief of losing Adamson. To even be a complete distraction from the Pitt.
Well, at least it was still a distraction, but he failed considerably at making no attachments to you or not having complex feelings regarding any of it. But now it was the wrong type of distraction, his mind wavering between the feel of your lips and your hands on him, to the echo of the door closing behind you.
Final. Quiet. A conversation all its own.
He needed a drink. He needed to bury his feelings and lose himself in the Pitt, like normal. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
In the days that followed, Michael’s phone burned heavy in his pocket. His heart raced whenever he thought about sending you a text, or trying to continue as if the other night had never happened. He couldn’t bring himself to, any words he could send to you felt like either too much or not enough.
Were you really having a good time?
Were you placating me?
Were you uncomfortable?
Did I make you uncomfortable?
Why did you kiss me again? Why did you go?
Can I call you?
It all was too much. He needed to forget about you and return to normal, before you had entered his life. It was hard to not consider the after with you; smiling, cheerful, an ever-present—
No. Enough.
His patient’s did not care if he was distracted, they needed him regardless of his state of mind.
Michael’s mood must have been palpable to most in the ED, giving him a wider berth than usual, except Dana. But that was why he loved her. Except when she pushed.
“You alright, Robby? You’re gloomier than usual.” She said, eyes flickering from her screen as he put down a tablet.
He let out a long sigh, “You know me. Right as rain.”
Dana raised a careful eyebrow at him, “That why you’re snapping at everyone?”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. He needed to leave his personal life at the door just like everyone else.
That is, until your personal life walks right through the door.
—
You cried the moment you got through the doorway of your apartment, all the emotions you had tried to stuff away finally beginning to overflow. Your chest hurt like you had just experienced heartbreak, while simultaneously furious with yourself that you let everything get so out of hand.
You had put all your cards on him stopping you, maybe even calling attention to the storm that had been brewing between you. You did not have a hand to play when he did not, thoughts resorting to flee, run, get outta there.
When he hadn’t stopped you, you knew he had clearly made a mistake, too caught up in the moment, that was all that had been to him, surely. It didn’t mean anything to him, it couldn’t have. You were too young for him, too naive to be taken seriously.
Your heart ached.
Maybe you should have listened to Marsi right at the start, picked up a few bartender shifts and never even considered Erin’s “easy money” scheme. Nothing comes easy, not really. The pain in your chest was proof enough.
Moving slowly through your apartment, your limbs felt heavy, wanting nothing more than to lay face down on your bed and forget about the world for a while. You figured the quiet of your room would be soothing, but it felt like a prison.
Even days later, there was radio silence from Michael, not that you had expected much different. You figured that him not stopping you and you walking out was clearly the end of it — who could blame him? He hadn’t signed up for that shit.
Thinking of the arrangement, the Visa card weighed heavy in your wallet. You had half a mind to toss it, shred it, throw it in the nearest body of water. But, there was still a few hundred dollars left, and how could you waste that?
Maybe I should mail it to him, you thought miserably, no return address, no name. He’d know. He’d know it was me.
Marsi had taken notice of your sudden shift in mood purely over text messages. She reached out to make plans, to study or even go for a simple walk, but you wanted to be alone. You wanted to wallow in self-pity and your own foolish, reckless fantasy, even though it made you feel worse.
Your friends refused to let you, showing up to your apartment with a tray of brownies and alcohol. Erin even stayed suspiciously quiet over how you were handling it, no smart comment about no strings, or turning it into something it wasn’t. You all just enjoyed stupid rom-coms and funny stories Erin had endured with the hedge-fund manager she was “seeing”.
It felt normal. It felt good. But something was missing, and you hated that it was him.
You tried to move on, the anxiety not dissipating from your chest. You tried to focus on the present, on finishing school and eventually being able to escape your shitty job. Your new laptop sat pretty on your dining table, making it hard to forget, reminding you exactly how Michael had looked at you when you pulled it from the bag. Soft eyes, gentle smile. Originally, you had tried not to use it, tried to get by with your old laptop — but it only took a few days before it died completely.
You tried not to let her mind wander while you made dinner. Cutting up a few vegetables on your cutting board, you put your attention to your current project, but were easily sidetracked.
Should you be the one to bridge the conversation? You had nothing particularly interesting to say, only lingering questions:
Why did you kiss me?
Did it mean anything to you?
Do you want to forget about it?
Why did you let me go?
Can I call you?
Her hand slipped, the knife falling from your hand and moving to fall off the counter. Without even thinking about it, moving on instinct alone, you reached to catch it — grabbing hold of the sharp end. It cut into your hand and you immediately released your hold on it, letting it clatter to the ground.
Blood oozed from the gash now in your palm, diagonally cut end to end. Fuck.
You quickly grabbed paper towels to apply pressure, and tried to stop the bleeding, but it soaked through. It stung, bringing a handful of tears to your eyes, before moving to run it under some water. The cold water felt good, but revealed just how deep the wound was.
Panic swirled around in your gut, and you knew you were going to have to get stitches. What was the closest hospital to you? Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center? That sounded right.
In the ER, you waited in one of the chairs — mildly irritated it was too busy for you to be seen right away. You tried to steer clear of the sicker of the people waiting — the people coughing or looking nauseous, instead sitting next to a woman and her daughter. The girl was young, but nothing was obviously wrong with her, so you felt it was a safe enough option.
Hunger rumbled in your gut and you found yourself more annoyed that out of any time this happened, it was as you were making dinner.
It felt like forever until your name was called, standing and walking towards the lady with a tablet in her hands. Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a ponytail, bangs covering her forehead, perhaps late thirties or early forties.
She smiled warmly at you, “Hi, I’m Dr. McKay, can I see?”
You nodded, moving the towel away from your palm with a wince. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but it was still ached. It still looked horrible to you and your eyes flicked away from it.
Dr. McKay made a small sound, “How did that happen?” She led you with her through the doors and into the back.
You frowned, “Making dinner, knife slipped. I stupidly reached to grab it without thinking.”
She nodded in what felt like understanding, easing some of the anxiety in your chest.
“Well, let’s get you stitched up.”
Your eyes moved across the ER, taking it in. Moving past several rooms until she stopped, gesturing inside. When you looked over to smile at her, your eyes collided with a familiar set of brown eyes across the hall, already watching you.
Michael. Fucking Michael.
When a storm breaks, there’s just a moment before the rain hits — and one is momentarily suspended in the heavy weight of the air around them, waiting for the fall.
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Sorry for the mild cliffhanger…
Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.
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no one’s touching him