Prone Bone Is The Position Of All Time Because You Can Feel His Entire Weight Pressed Into You—impossibly

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Companionship | pt. 5

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

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Summary: After a brief mention two weeks ago, Michael gives you a gift, making your feelings all the more complicated.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: y’all are so amazing!💜thank you for all the comments, reblogs, likes and follows! I’m so grateful you all are enjoying this as much as I am!! over 300 followers?? That’s crazy, thank you!!

Someone on ao3 said there needed to be more Robby pov and you know what? I agree! I tried my best lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, feelings angst, slowburn

not beta read

Butterflies invaded your stomach at the mere thought of him, the memory of his fingers on you — soft and fleeting. How warm his skin had been against yours, seared into your mind.

This is so stupid.

You thought to call Erin and ask her if this had ever happened to her, but there was a fear in saying anything. In calling attention to your feelings. Aside from the fact that he was not looking for anything, your arrangement was a glaring obvious fact that nothing truly could happen between you. Wouldn’t that break all the boundaries you had set with each other at the start? That was not even getting into your age difference, and the uneven balance it could create. He was so much older, it could never work.

Trying to distract yourself with work and studying and late nights with your friends, you still eagerly accepted any of his calls. He still planned a weekly one, but an unplanned call late at night became more frequent. You enjoyed those late night conversations, they were typically more raw and revealing than when he had time to think about what to say.

He had told you more about the hospital administration hounding him, and the third year resident he had taken under his wing some years past.

Toward the end of the conversation, he had asked to hang out.

“Maybe get take-out again, or something.” He suggested.

You contemplated it. Your laptop was giving you a headache, and you were half-tempted to throw it out a window. A little food and conversation might do wonders to make you feel better.

“I’d still like to try that Thai place.” You told him, playing with the hem of your sweater.

“That can be arranged.”

You laughed, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, meet me there at 7?”

—

Michael really had no excuse for the nerves that flooded his system. They nearly always did in your company, but the calm that would wash over him just a little bit later was bliss. It was nice to have someone to talk to — someone interested in his days without wanting to pry. It was freeing, almost, knowing you would still be there for him the following week even if he revealed his harrowed feelings.

There was a hopeful optimism, too — like it was all good practice for human connection. Yet, the thought of someone else on the other line or the other side of the table, it soured.

He was being stupid. He was being reckless.

The feelings in his chest were just simple, calm familiarity. It could never be anything more.

You were nearly half his age, and the thought of embarrassing himself at believing the feelings could ever be anything more made him tense up. The walls around his heart remained steadfast and strong.

Perhaps the whole arrangement was bleeding into something it shouldn’t be — and he thought to perhaps call the whole thing off.

He thought that, but he was already reaching for the phone to hear your voice.

The Thai place was crowded, but you were able to get a table. You were dressed in business casual, coming from work, and your top did wonders for your eyes. He admired you for a few moments in the lobby while you waited for a table, desperately trying to be subtle about it.

When you sat, you looked over the menu with interest and the quiet that settled over you was warm. Your orders were taken and you smiled, eyes roaming around the new restaurant.

“Have you still been pretty busy?” Michael asked.

“Never too busy for you.” You commented effortlessly with a smirk. “But yeah. Getting down to crunch time. Soon I’ll have to worry about getting my license.”

Your first comment made his heart stutter. I’m too old for this. But he was grinning.

“At least you’ll have school off your plate.” He said.

You gave an agreed nod, “I’m looking forward to that fact, oh my god.”

Michael chuckled.

“How was work yesterday?” You asked, looking genuinely interested.

You were good at that — making him want to open up, but some of his days were just too gruesome to tell you about. Too painful to share. You always had an ear open for him, regardless. Part of his mind whispered you were just doing as their agreement dictated, but he shoved that back down.

“It was…” A thousand words floated through his mind: Bad. Good. Terrible. Short-staffed. He settled on, “...fine.”

It was easy enough to see in your eyes that you did not believe him. Pretty eyes framed with long lashes, flickering from his face to your meal and back again. He hated how it felt not opening up all the way, but he feared he would swallow you whole.

He let out a long sigh through his nose, refusing to look at you. A thought was bubbling in his head, half-tempted to tell you about Adamson, feeling guilty for shutting you out. Not yet, I can’t yet, echoed in his head, memories burning in his mind of Adamson on the ventilator.

“Hey, hey, Mike.” You snapped him out of the images that haunted him, reaching across the table to hold his hand. “You got lost there for a minute…are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and you removed your hand, much to his disappointment. He covered it easily, smiling back at you.

“Well, I’m out with a very beautiful woman, so I’d say I’m okay.”

You stared at him, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, before quickly looking away from him. His heart picked up at your reaction, hope blooming. No—

“That’s—well—uh—thank you.”

He smiled, trying to brush all the thoughts swimming in his head aside. “I got you something.”

You sputtered, “What?”

“I got you a gift. I left it at my apartment, figured we could head back that way after we finished eating.” He explained, thinking of the box sitting on his couch. It had sat like a heavyweight in his living room all week.

“You…got me a gift?” Then, “You really didn’t have to do that, Michael.”

He shrugged sheepishly, “I wanted to.”

“Well, thank you. Really. That…you really didn’t have to.”

Michael tried to read all the emotions flickering across your face—shock, confusion, red eared embarrassment, and finally, gratitude.

He called for the check.

—

Warm feelings were swirling around in your stomach. The cool night air did little for your cheeks, or the heat that had crawled up your neck or wrapped across your chest, holding you tight.

A gift. He got me a gift. A gift. A goddamn gift.

Why the fuck had he gotten you something? A nausea rolled in, feeling like you owed him — even if his only intention had been to be kind. What was it? Did he see something simple, think of you and buy it? Did he go out searching for something to buy?

The possibilities ate away at your insides.

The walk into his apartment building was filled with quiet banter, which helped pull you back out of your head. You registered the look on the woman’s face as she had stepped off the elevator, giving Michael a side-eye, while you both stepped onto it. You swallowed thickly, turning your attention back to the man beside you.

“Maybe they just need a few games to get into the swing of things. I still have hope.” You told him, referencing the game the Penguins had played the day before.

Michael chuckled, “They’re a disappointment, but they’re still my team.”

“Sometimes I feel lucky when I’m too busy to watch them lose.” You laughed, moving beside him when you got to his floor.

You were nervous to be in his apartment again, but a part of you also enjoyed being surrounded by a space that was purely him.

“If it makes you feel any better, it can’t technically be a gift. I didn’t wrap it.” He said, glancing at you.

Your eyes moved around his apartment until they settled on the brown paper bag on his couch. Your heart started racing.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” you said with a small chuckle, looking over at him.

He had his hands in his pockets, side stepping to his couch to grab the gift. Seeing the size of it, you began guessing in your head as to what it could have been — a clothing box? Too big to be a book.

“Here you go.” His voice was so soft as he handed it over.

You lowered yourself onto his couch, taking it from him. It was heavy. Not unbearably so, but it had some weight to it. You smiled up at him before putting your hand into the bag, feeling the box inside.

He moved to sit next to you…impossibly close. Close enough to feel his body heat, feel the shadow of his form hovering.

Gut twisting, you pulled out the box, blinking down at what now laid in your lap. HP was written on the cardboard in large black lettering, and your heart completely stopped. The cardboard had been opened so it was easy enough to peek inside, all your thoughts stalling in your head at the sight of it.

An HP ProBook 460 G11.

A goddamn fucking laptop.

“Michael,” your voice squeaked out, heart hammering against your ribcage. “I can’t accept this. This is too much.”

“I know you were saying yours was giving you trouble.” He said, like it explained everything.

You finally removed your eyes from the box to look at him. He had a soft smile on his lips, but it still reached his eyes, crinkled in contentment. His brown eyes held an emotion you did not recognize, but it crept into your chest and curled up.

“I really can’t take this.” You breathed out, quiet since he was so close.

“It’s bad luck to give a gift back.”

“I thought it wasn’t technically a gift.”

He smirked, eyes flickering down to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. “I want you to have it.”

And that seemed to settle it.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This was really, really nice of you. Thank you so much.”

He rubbed his hands down his legs, letting out a long breath, “Yeah, of course.”

You grabbed his wrist, forcing his attention back to your face. “I mean it, this…this was incredibly thoughtful. Thank you, Michael.”

“You’re welcome.” And there was your name, so pretty on his lips.

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Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @cannonindeez @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator

hahah I love a good build up, BUT KISS HIM

they’re so bad at feelings lol

sorry this chapter was shorter, I wanted to get some Robby pov in there. But surprise! the next part is already out🤗

𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 – 𝐜. 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, +𝟏𝟖) | sorry for this. blame my ovulation and those new jaw pics <3

deep. his tongue is so deep inside you that it’s hard to think. to breathe. to think. all that tumbles from you are incoherent cries of fuck carmen and mewls that have him grinding a wet spot into the sheets beneath him. he’s got your legs open, fingers gently pulling back the slick skin of your pussy. lips and tongue tangling themselves with spit as they circle all over you. carmen’s chin is drenched and his jaw is sore, but he won’t stop. he can’t stop, he thinks to himself, placing heavy open mouthed-kisses over your cunt. it’s all lips and groans and sweet as he eats at you like it’s his first and last time. the sounds—sloppy bouts of smacking and squelching—have his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

carmen could come like this. carmen will come like this, but not before you do. it takes everything in him to tear his mouth from you, lines of drool and juices dragging away with him. soft shushes pour from him as you whine, squirming at the loss. i know, baby, i know. need you to come first though before i bust on the bed, okay. can you do that for me? carmen’s found his way back towards your face for a deep, salty peck to your lips before pulling away. you stop breathing for a second when his tongue reaches out and laps at your chin, taking back the juices transferred during his affections. so good. always so good, so sweet for me. how’d i get such a sweet girl, huh? you almost think carmen wants you to answer, but the two fingers that delve inside you rid your brain of any intelligible response. carmen's jaw drops some at the sight of your head thrown back as he deepens his fingers, the thumb of his other hand sliding over your swollen clit.

shit, there we go he mutters to himself, voice low and dick twitching at your warmth around his fingers. you clench and squeeze, a grip around his wrist that he knows means anything but stop. fuck, you’re so warm, baby. so fuckin wet, really need you to come for me. please. his words are paired with a thrusting of his hand, in and out of you as his fingers bend. searching for the place you taught him about before. the place that makes you choke out his name. it only takes him a short five seconds before he hears it—forced from your lips in a strained whimper.

there we go, that’s it. that’s it, pretty girl. gorgeous fuckin pussy squeezing around me. you flinch when he drags his fingers against the spot with even more intention. right there, that’s it, right? that feel good? he grins a little to himself when your reply is nothing but a loud groan and a tighter grip on his wrist. he can’t help himself when he bends back to kiss right below your belly button, a few falling curls tickling your bare stomach as he nips at the skin. his lips trail down, down, down, and you're certain you could just burst. the mixture of his fingers and tongue has you seeing stars, spiraling towards an intense warmth that feels almost too good.

carmen’s breathing is ragged and comes out is harsh pants. he’s licking and sucking and nearly sobbing into you as he works. something louder leaves him when you reach down and grab at his hair. the meeting of your gazes has you mewling out a pitiful line of fuck. fuck, yes, oh god, carmen. please, please don’t stop—gonna cum—don’t stop. there’s a new intensity from carmen as you edge closer and closer to euphoria. his hips pump, heaving the heavy, dripping head of his dick back and forth over the mattress. the bed shakes at both carmen’s vigor and your inability to stay still as a harsh blanket of heat begins to smother you. every sound becomes nothing but a wave of meaningless frequencies. a high hum rings in your ears as your limbs tense and your body shakes uncontrollably. carmen tongues at your center in a feral manner, and he stares at you with hooded eyes. fingers still slinking in and out of your pussy. you drop your head into the bed, still trembling, and eyes wet with tears as the heat of your everywhere has you floating.

carmen slows now, opting for kisses against your sopping middle. his chin is wetter than before as he presses his lips all over and across you. cooing out soft words with his finger sitting calm inside you. oh you did so good for me, pretty girl. so good. a kiss. taste so good another kiss and fucking sweet, jesus. made me cream the fucking bed and i don’t even care. another kiss. good fucking girl. another kiss. best fucking girl.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

drawing study🤔..

⭐️💙⭐️Blue Royal Stars⭐️💙⭐️

PEDRO PASCAL Materialists | 2025

thinking about night shift reader getting jealous when a pretty temp nurse or patient won’t stop flirting with jack

YESYESYES!!🤭 i need that imagine him trying to convince her/ console her and she’s actually so jealous and mad w him

the squeal heard around the world. i loved writing this. i am soo sorry i am terrible at writing about the girl we are supposed to be jealous of, even though this was my own damn idea. i hope you like ♡ this is about 3.6k. oops

jack abbot is great at being your boyfriend, and he's even better at being a doctor.

he's the kind of boyfriend you spent all of your youth dreaming about, as though he had read the scribbles in your journals growing up, like he'd been right next to your friends when you'd tell them about what you want in a relationship.

sweet, devoted, caring. he takes care of you in ways that you didn't realize you needed to be cared for—does it so effortlessly that you're left wondering how it comes so easily to him. you know he's been in more relationships than you—he was married, and that is something you don't take lightly. he had already found the person he was going to spend forever with, and because of some cruel twist of fate, he ended up alone again.

you can't imagine that. you've been on the night-shift maybe six months, which means you've been official with jack for coming on four months now, and you can't even imagine what a single day without him would be like.

(you've experienced it in the broadest sense of the word—he once got called in at three in the afternoon on a day you both had gotten off. the two of you had only woken up an hour or two ago, and had spent the following time indulging in an afternoon delight, and when his phone went off, you were about to drift off to sleep again against his chest, to the sound of his heart. you still hold a grudge against shen for that day, and you know what it's like to be without him when you're so spoiled by what it's like to be with him—you were miserable until he came back home at ten that night.)

jack abbot is a great boyfriend. he surprises you with your favorite flowers, makes you breakfast because he worries about you not eating enough, and even though he's an old man, he replies to your texts as soon as he gets them, as soon as he can. (but he doesn't really need to, since you're always together anyways.)

but sometimes, your boyfriend is really fucking oblivious.

there's a travel nurse taking over for one of your favorite night-shift nurses' maternity leave. you were sad about it already, being without her, though it's hard to stay upset when she sends you photos of her cute baby napping and videos of him realizing he has fingers.

and you are nothing if not sweet, if not welcoming. you had been the newbie not that long ago, and even though you've settled into a great routine (that only partially includes jack, because despite the fact that the scheduler loves you, you don't get every shift with your boyfriend. that would just be wrong. and distracting, you think), you still remember how hard it was in the beginning.

so you beam at her with your smile, ask her about her hobbies and give her recommendations for the best coffee nearby. you do all the things you'd do if it was anyone else, trying to make sure she feels welcome. (jack told you once that you have a complex about making sure people like you. you told him to shut up.)

the first few shifts with her were fine. you've been on with shen and ellis for a week—that's just the way the schedule was. you and jack both have a golden weekend coming up soon, and there was another couple of days he took off to go visit his sister upstate, so you knew it would be a mildly sad few weeks without him there every night with you. it would be worth it for the forty-eight hours you had been daydreaming about, all of them in jack's apartment, not a single one outside of his bed.

but she'd been on with you every night you'd been there, and nurses only work three times a week—that's what's running through your head when jack comes in for his first shift this week with you. he'd come from his apartment, calling you to tell you that he'd made it back home safely and that he was going to sleep before heading in. you had ended the call securing a promise to get breakfast at the diner after tonight's shift, your usual routine.

but you feel sick to your stomach at eight-thirty, staring at the new nurse and your boyfriend, standing in front of a patient's bed.

jack looks good—he always looks good. his hair isn't as messy yet, his scrubs are still clean. he shifts his weight a little because he's had a long drive back from his sister's, and he didn't get to sleep that much, another reason why you are so excited for this empty weekend. were so excited.

you didn't even think you were the jealous type. how could you have known—with no one ever being so close to you that you had any reason to be jealous? you try to rack your head through a couple of first-dates and your sweet but boring short-term college boyfriend. no, you conclude, you've never been the jealous type.

except now, you suppose, watching the pretty nurse lean in a little too close to jack, showing him something on the tablet in her hands. she stares up at your boyfriend, and he stares at the tablet, and then the patient, and you stare at them. and then you see it—he looks at her and stays something, and she laughs. loudly, flirtatiously. you know that laugh, you see it all around you in a hospital full of flirts. and before either of them can catch you staring, you turn around and find a patient to take care of.

you tell yourself for the next thirty minutes that being jealous and getting angry is awfully immature of you, while stitching up a man with terrible knife skills who had secured his visit tonight during a failed attempt at making hibachi for dinner. you don't even hear him when he asks you when he should return to get the stitches out, and the nurse helping you looks at you in confusion. you never zone out while talking to patients, never leave them hanging. she fills in for you, telling him two weeks while you meander back to central.

and you feel a white hot ball of anger burning in your chest again. she's talking to him again. god—don't they both have jobs to do? she's doing the thing again, leaning in towards your boyfriend, looking at him with an expression that is entirely too familiar to you. it's the one that's constantly on your face—the one that the other night shift crew are probably sick of seeing by now. it's something like adoration and reverence and paying attention to every word he says so you don't miss anything. but hers isn't like yours, there's something else there too.

jack is talking to the patient now, taking a step closer to the bed and away from the nurse, and your thudding heart calms down for half a second before the nurse follows right behind him. and she touches his arm. not a tap, not a poke to get his attention. she wraps her fingers around his bicep, holds on for a little too long, and your boyfriend turns to look at her, and that's when you realize you need a moment.

you shut your eyes. it's times like this that you realize how green you really are when it comes to the whole 'dating a really handsome, really smart guy' thing. but jack has never given you a reason to be worried, has never said or done anything that even made you think he would entertain something like this. you know he wouldn't, he's too good for that, too nice of a boyfriend for that.

but it still stings. and so you turn away immediately, heading back to the desk and leaning against it. you report the two cases you dealt with to ellis, who asks you questions that take you too long to answer. you try to avoid staring at either your boyfriend or the nurse for too long, a storm cloud brewing inside of you when you see her trailing right behind him again.

you haven't even talked to him tonight yet, you think bitterly. miserably. and that nurse has been with him for two hours.

and unfortunately, you're also pretty green at hiding the fact that you're upset too. not to your patients—though you do let shen and ellis run the incoming and settle for debriding and wrapping up a burn instead, sitting behind a shut curtain so jack couldn't find you, if he was looking.

(of course he was looking. you're just caught up in your own head.)

and after that, it's almost ten. jack has a cup of coffee waiting for you, if he can find you. he tells the nurse who's been following him around all night if she can track you down for him, and then the patient with the chest pain he's been monitoring wants to speak with him, so he walks away to do that, stretching his neck to see if you're at one of the beds nearby. you have a pair of pink sneakers you wear, though every single person in your life had told you to buy black ones, him included. you don't listen, and times like this he's thankful, searching for the bright shoes under a few beds before giving up. maybe you had just walked away, maybe he had just missed you.

you're back at central, sending in an order for antibiotic gel and finishing a note. you're not a mean person, it doesn't come very naturally to you, but you do have to try really hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes when you see the nurse walking towards you.

you've been nice to her every day so far. it would be obvious if you started being mean—whatever your version of mean is—now. but it doesn't seem like she would notice, with that same love-sick expression as she sits in the empty chair next to you.

you're grumpy and tired and frankly too busy to deal with this, but when she starts talking, you listen anyways. (screw jack and screw your goddamn complex. you need to learn how to be mean.)

"how is this the first time i'm meeting him?" she asks, and you bite your cheek so hard you think it might be bleeding. you keep typing your note, looking in her direction and forcing a smile—stupid. complex. "he's so handsome."

"what's that now?" you grit, the screen in front of you not making much sense anymore. you backspace and delete the last two sentences that are filled with gibberish and abbreviations that don't exist.

"dr. abbot," she says to you and you think even your fingers are trembling. you are so, so incredibly bad at this. and you don't even realize why—so much anger and sadness pooling inside of you. normally you'd be caffeinated enough for a clear mind on this side of ten o'clock, but you've been avoiding your boyfriend, and therefore avoiding the cup he makes for you every shift.

the nurse rambles on, your heart beating faster with each word she says. dr. abbot is cute and nice and charming and, like, so funny.

i know, you want to yell. i know he's funny! you just met him three hours ago.

but you stay silent, stay nice, no matter how much it's eating at you. you are being extremely immature but everytime you think of how close they were standing and the fact that some other girl touched your boyfriend's arm, you want to black out.

she keeps rambling and you stay silent, trying for the most part to ignore her, until you hear it at the end of one of her sentences.

"he wears a wedding ring, though, i noticed it earlier when we were with that other patient. but i mean, he's a doctor right? they never care about-"

the thoughts you're thinking would get you put into the psych ward, you think.

"-oh, he was looking for you. you need to report to him, right? we were over by bed ten, i think, the guy with chest pain. we were-"

we, we, we. it's all she says.

"he was looking for me?" you repeat, tired of listening and frankly, a bit tired of the weight of your own emotions.

yes, you might be stupid for getting jealous about something like this, but if that's the case, then you accept your own stupidity. you would never touch some nurse's arm like that, not unless you were trying to give someone a hug after a bad loss. and you would never lean in close like that to anyone, no one besides jack. well, jack and that older radiologist who speaks very softly, so you always need to get real close so she doesn't have to keep repeating herself.

you guess you thought jack would feel the same about not doing those things for you. maybe he doesn't care, maybe it's nothing to him. but it's not to you, not right now, not while listening to a temp nurse gush about him all night.

"oh, there he is now. do i look okay? that other incoming was coughing up blood and we-"

you look up, meeting your boyfriend's pretty hazel eyes while he leans on the other side of the counter from you.

"do you need anything, dr. abbot?" she pipes up from next to you, and this time you do roll your eyes. fuck—you're really bad at this. jack sees it happen, shaking his head at her and turning his attention to you.

a few hours ago, this would have made you perfectly happy. but it keeps replaying in your head—the arm grab. maybe it's because you have your own complex about jack's arms, but it's not okay. and you won't pretend like it is either.

jack sets down your yellow mug by your hand. it's filled with a light colored coffee.

"here's your cream and sugar with a side of coffee." you stare up at him blankly, forcing a small smile.

"thank you," and then you turn your attention back to the screen. jack looks at you, confused with furrowed eyebrows. you can feel the nurse's eyes going between your yellow mug and jack. "i discharged hibachi guy with fifteen stitches. and the forearm burn wants to pick up the gel from his local pharmacy, i guess he knows the tech there or something-"

"you okay, kid?"

you release a breath you've been holding all night. when you turn to your side, you see the nurse is still staring, but not at you, just at jack. you turn your attention back to him.

"yeah."

you watch it happen in front of you. he turns to the nurse, and she beams, just like how you always do.

"would you mind giving us a minute?" he asks her, and you can see her deflate a little. you get a smug feeling, which you immediately curse yourself for. that's mean of you, and you don't like being mean—though you are very pleased he said that. she nods and gets up slowly, making sure to ask him again if he needs anything before she goes. and she walks somewhere away, though you're sure she can still see him.

"hey," he starts, and you do have to look up now. you can't ignore jack if you tried. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you lie through your teeth, ignoring how weepy you feel inside.

you don't know how to handle being jealous, and you want to say something mean and biting but you can't really think of it. so you settle for the next best thing, staying silent.

"c'mon, kid. don't lie to me. i haven't seen you all night."

"i was on chairs," you say, eyes flicking between jack's arm resting against the counter and the cup of coffee he brought you. and then you look at the recently emptied seat next to you. "and you were clearly busy."

jack hasn't been dating you for that long, but he still knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. knows that you're too nice, knows about the new nurse that replaced your pregnant friend—distinctly remembers you telling him about it on the phone last week. he knows that he's never seen you like this, that you haven't given him that smile that makes his knees weak and his heart thud all night. that he was waiting for it after a few days without you.

you chew your cheek again, taking a sip of the coffee. it's perfect, just like every other night.

(you had once confessed to jack at three am during the first month you two were officially dating that your coffee always tastes better when he makes it. it's what he thinks about when he makes it for you—here, at your place, at his place, at the diner.)

"thank you for the coffee," you say quietly, briefly flickering your sad eyes to him. jack leans in, holding your hand that just set down your mug.

"hey," he starts quietly, and you try to wrestle your hand away, though he doesn't budge. "hey. what's going on? did i-did i do something?"

you stay silent, though he notices your eyes getting watery. it's so stupid, crying over this like you've just lost a patient or something. but you can't help it. jack abbot makes you feel every emotion like it's your first time feeling it all over again. your eyes look at the chair next to you again.

"i saw her touching you," you admit quietly. saying the words out loud lights a fury inside of you, getting angry all over again at the very idea that he didn't realize what was happening.

"oh, kid, i-"

"d-don't. you asked, i'm just telling you." it's hard for him to listen when he notices your chin trembling a little, thinking about how this might be the first time he's messed up in your short relationship.

he comes over to the other side of the desk, taking the seat next to you and holding onto your hand again.

"please tell me this is not about that-that nurse," jack starts, and you want to walk away from him so badly. "sweetheart. i have absolutely no interest in her, even if she does. i told her to find you for me, so i could get your coffee-"

"but she touched your arm," you say, not realizing just how sad that had made you. but jack realizes, knows that you must have seen it from somewhere where he couldn't see you. knows you didn't see him brushing her off, standing by the patient, figuring out how to get rid of his new shadow.

"hey, i'm sorry, okay? i would have made sure she understood that i'm very happily taken if i had known-"

"but you should have known," you say, though the words are covered with a tiny sob. "i-i'm not crying because i'm sad, i'm angry, i just don't know how to stop crying when i-"

"hey, it's okay. c'mon, let's go on a walk."

"no, i need to finish my notes-"

"sweetheart, come on." jack takes both your hands in his, turning you towards him. he stares right into your eyes and you feel slightly better—slightly. "i need to apologize to you and then i'm going to kiss you. and i know how you feel about me doing that sort of thing in front of everyone, so-"

"i don't know what you're talking about," you snip back. "i don't have any feelings about doing any sort of thing in front of any sort of people-"

and jack wants to laugh, not sure if you entirely understand how cute you are like this. he'll tell you all about it tomorrow morning, when he's got you in his bed, after he apologizes every single way he knows how, after he proves to you how little temp nurses mean to him when he's finally got you.

he leans in close, knowing he's got eyes on the two of you.

"is that so?" you have a habit of shutting your eyes when you know a kiss is coming, and your body does it automatically, despite what your brain is thinking. "so you're not gonna mind if i-"

and he bridges the gap, kissing you at central until he has to pull away to let you breathe. your eyes blink open, staring at hazel until you hear it from behind you—the charge nurse, clearing her throat, suppressing a laugh.

"doctors? if you're about done, we have an incoming mvc-"

"coming, bridget. thanks." jack speaks for both of you, and a little dazed, you stand up with him, still staring.

"i'm still upset."

"i know."

"she still touched you-"

"and i think she's gotten the message by now, but if she hasn't, i will make sure she understands."

"i haven't worked with you since last week." the last part you say sadly, realizing how long it's been since you've seen your boyfriend.

"i'll make up for it in the morning. promise." you take one last sip of coffee, knowing it'll be cold by the time you come back to it, following jack to the trauma bay. you walk right by the temp nurse, who you catch watching as you tie jack's gown and he ties yours, and though you really shouldn't, you beam your friendliest smile at her as she waits with you and the other nurse outside.

"you look great, by the way. and he is cute, isn't he?"

Study of Drapery (1900) by Alphonse Mucha

“that’s my sister! that’s my younger sister! isn’t she gorgeous?”