writingsonsaturn

[writingsonsaturn]

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She's Here Part 2

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader

Find Part 1 here!

28.8k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: age gap relationship but gap unspecified; teasing Robby about his age; arguing; discussion of/about sex; allusion to PIV and oral sex; implied protected PIV sex; allusion to Robby having a breeding kink; reader was punched (no real description); potentially incorrect medical procedures and recovery; blood; seizures; passing mentions of stitches and staples; brief slightly graphic medical description; brain surgery; TBI and effects thereof; facial fracture; discussion of PittFest; discussion of what happened to Leah and Adamson; compartmentalization; regret; discussions of death/dying/coding; anxiety; heavy emotional angst; crying; alcohol; grief; active suicide risk Robby; suicidal ideation; depression; anger and irritability (at times intense) as depression symptoms and manifestations; a detective shows up very briefly; no use of yn or related

Series Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed him and doesn't react well.

AN: Thank you for all of your support on Part 1 and your patience waiting for me to get this out!! I truly appreciate it. I'm kind of nervous about this one but not really sure why. I hope you enjoy and it was worth the wait! And thank you so much for reading!!

“Robby I have to go, but just get here as quickly as you fucking can, okay?” 

Robby isn’t able to get anything out before Jack hangs up. He knows he needs to move, needs to start running back to the hospital but he’s stuck standing in your apartment with tears streaming down his face. 

Adamson. Leah. And now you. Another name on the list of people he’s killed on this date. 

Because Robby is sure you’re not going to be alive when he gets to the hospital. Or that if you are it won’t be for long. Even after he broke your heart and got you killed he could see you trying to be nice to him and waiting to die until tomorrow but he’s not sure he wants that. 

Robby’s eyes roam your kitchen to your fridge. You have a strip of photobooth photos of the two of you hanging up with a magnet. You look so happy. He looks so happy. You both look so in love, even if you hadn’t said it yet. It brings him back down and he realizes he has to go, he needs to try and get to the hospital in time to either help save you or say goodbye to you. 

He walks quickly back to your front door and locks it before running down the stairs and back out onto the street where he starts sprinting again. He takes every shortcut he knows, anything to shave off even just a couple of seconds. The adrenaline coursing through him is giving him the ability to keep up his sprint and he knows when that adrenaline crashes, it’s going to crash hard. 

There’s the briefest second of relief when he finally sees the ambulance bay doors. He’s almost to you. 

He comes running in through the doors looking for you or for Jack. “Where is she?” Robby yells the second his eyes find Jack on the opposite side of the hub.

Jack’s head snaps in Robby’s direction like he’s been here waiting for Robby. He starts to walk toward Robby who has lessened from a sprint to a partial run. Jack holds his hands up and steps in front of Robby, putting his hands on Robby’s chest to catch and slow Robby down for a few seconds before removing them.

Robby thinks he might be sick. Because Jack isn’t working on you. And Jack isn’t greeting him with a reassuring ‘she’s alive.’ And Jack isn’t leading him toward a trauma room or toward the elevators to go up to an ICU or OR or whatever other floor but off to the side toward one of the more secluded empty rooms. And everyone is looking at him not with hope but with sympathy that feels more like pity. 

“Jack. Please.” He can’t even begin to try and catch his breath. “Please don’t take me into some room and tell me she’s dead. Please.” His voice breaks on the last please, a prayer and a plea to his best friend to not fucking do this to him. 

Jack shakes his head. “She’s alive. I’m not taking you to any room to tell you she’s dead. I just didn’t think you’d want to do this in front of everyone.” Robby lets out a barely muffled sob of relief. “She’s up with neuro. Dana’s in observation. She’s not alone okay? But it’s ba-”

“Brain surgery? Oh jesus fucking christ.” Robby takes off for the elevator, Jack right behind him. “I need to see her.” 

“Robby, hey,” Jack tries to get his attention as he presses the elevator call button over and over. “Are you sure you want to see her like that?”

“Yes.” There’s no real thought to it. Because to Robby it’s not even a question. The doors open and the two step in, Jack hitting the button for the right floor and then the door closed button. “What are her injuries?”

Jack pauses for a second. “It’s bad, Robby.” 

Robby’s stomach twists again. He knows what it means when Jack says something is bad because of how rarely he uses it. For Jack, bad is the worst. 

The elevator arrives at their floor and they both step out, Jack pulling Robby over to the side of the hallway with him. Jack lets out a breath. “Longitudinal basilar skull fracture, depressed skull fracture along her left parietal and temporal. Massive subdural hematoma, easily the biggest I’ve ever seen on a patient. Tripod fracture on the right.”

Robby shakes his head at Jack, more adrenaline pouring into his system and making him shake a little. It feels like he can’t breathe. “What else?” he whispers.

“Scrapes and bruises, nasal fracture. Cut on her face that I’ve made sure Plastics will stitch.” Jack gives Robby a couple of seconds to take it all in before nodding in the direction of the observation room for your OR. “Come on.”

They finish the short walk to the door and Jack opens it, walks in after Robby. 

“Hey,” Dana says softly as she stands and approaches Robby to give him a hug. “She’s hanging in there.” 

Robby barely hugs Dana back, too focused on looking at you. Because seeing you, seeing you in that chair with your head bolted into place, intubated, face already incredibly swollen and bruised, seeing you makes it all too real. “Oh my god,” Robby whispers. “Oh my fucking god.”

“I know,” Dana murmurs, standing next to him and rubbing his back. 

“I…She…” Robby shakes his head and swallows hard. He has to turn around and he hates himself for it, feels like he’s abandoning you once again but he just can’t. He lets out a half-broken sob as he puts his face in his hands. 

“Sit down, yeah?” Dana leads Robby over to one of the seats while Jack turns the monitors and speaker off so Robby doesn’t have to see it up close or hear it. 

“How long has she been in surgery?” Robby whispers after a minute, dropping his hands in his lap and sniffling. 

“She went up a minute or so after I hung up,” Jack tells him. 

Dana takes the seat next to Robby. “They’ve evacuated about half of the hematoma.” 

Robby gets dizzy at that. The hematoma he just saw on your brain was still huge. He figured you hadn’t been up here that long and they were just getting started. “That was half of it?” 

Neither Dana nor Jack say anything. There’s not much to say at this point. Like Jack said. It’s bad. 

Robby wipes away a few tears and can almost feel the wall his mind builds around him and everything growing numb. “What was her GCS?” He watches Dana and Jack look at each other, neither answering. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t great,” Jack says slowly. “We burr holed her downstairs and once we got the ICP down her GCS came back up. Then I called you and while I was talking to you she seized and her GCS dropped again.”

He just nods. He doesn’t push for the actual numbers. They don’t really matter right now anyway. Robby doesn’t know if five minutes or five hours pass as he sits there, lost in his head and wishing he could just go to sleep and wake up and have you in bed next to him and none of this be real. He’s not even fully aware of Dana squeezing his shoulder and slipping out of the room. He’s stuck in his thoughts, replaying all of your best moments together and then him breaking up with you in that supply closet, over and over and over. 

It’s only been six or so minutes of Robby lost to his thoughts when he finally pulls himself free enough to look at Jack. “What happened?” 

Jack sighs and takes a seat, leaves one chair in between him and Robby. “Not super clear. Based on her injuries and where she was found it looks like she got punched from the side and fell and hit her head on the curb. Mugging probably, she was missing her backpack and phone.”

“How long was she down?” Robby mumbles.

“Don’t know.” Jack shakes his head. “A while I would guess. Her body was hidden by a car to anyone driving by and where she was found isn’t a heavy pedestrian street at night.”

“Where was she?” You couldn’t have been on your way home, Robby would’ve seen you while running there. Unless you’d already been picked up. 

“Paramedics said she was about a block west up and a hundred feet or so down from Harry’s bodega.” Jack tells him. “I don’t know, obviously, but it feels like she was trying to get to a busier street to walk on.”

Robby nods. The two settle back into silence. Robby can hardly fathom you just laying there on the sidewalk growing closer and closer to death all alone. He wonders how long you were conscious for. If hitting your head on the curb knocked you out or if you had to lay there knowing what was slowly happening to you, if you had to watch them take your backpack and feel in your pockets for your phone. 

That line of thought brings Robby to a natural worry. What if whoever it was hurt you even worse? What if taking your backpack and phone wasn’t enough? He almost gags at how hard the nausea hits again. “Jack. Was she…” Robby looks at Jack with a horrified expression. He can’t bring himself to finish the question, to say the words, but Jack knows immediately. 

“No,” Jack shakes his head emphatically, “Dana checked. There were absolutely no signs. And the paramedics said her clothes looked normal, not like someone had tried to put them back on an unconscious body.”

Some relief floods Robby’s system at that news. “How the fuck-” Robby presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How did she even end up here? We should’ve been closed to trauma.”

“Paramedics recognized her,” Jack says quietly, “knew she needed to come here regardless of our status.” 

Robby doesn’t respond, just shakes his head a little and closes his eyes again. He keeps praying he’s going to wake up and this entire day will have just been a horrible nightmare but he knows he won’t. He knows this is his reality. He knows what he lost. 

“I killed her,” he whispers, just loud enough for Jack to hear. “I killed Adamson, and then I killed Leah, and now I’ve killed her.” Robby swallows down a sob. “I killed them all and I killed her after I broke her heart for no reason, and I don’t know what to do with that, how to, how to… This is my fault Jack.”

“Robby,” Jack lets out a breath as he looks over at him, “I love you brother, but you are not god. You didn’t kill Adamson. You didn’t kill Leah. You didn’t kill her. She’s still alive and we don’t know if she’s going to die. The world is fucked up Robby. Fucked up things happen. Disease and violence happen. I get why you feel like all of those things are your fault but they’re not.”

He shakes his head at Jack and looks back down at his lap. Jack just doesn’t understand, can’t see it. Maybe Jack does and is just lying to him as his friend trying to make him feel better. Because it’s hard for Robby to believe Jack that he isn’t to blame. Especially about you. If he hadn’t broken up with you then you wouldn’t have left and you wouldn’t have been assaulted. But he did break up with you.

Robby replays the night in his head again. He gets to being on the roof with Jack and realizes that Jack let you leave. You told Jack you were leaving and he didn’t stop you. Robby knows his thoughts are wrong and that Jack has no responsibility for any of this, but Robby needs someone to be angry at if he can’t be angry at himself. 

“Why’d you let her leave?” Robby spits the question venomously. 

“Excuse me?” Jack raises his eyebrows at Robby.

“Why’d you let her fucking leave?” He glares at Jack. 

“I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown adult and an attending whose shift was well over. We didn’t need her anymore. So she left.” Jack stares back at him, seemingly unperturbed by Robby’s glare. 

“Well if you asked her to stay until after that debrief maybe she wouldn’t have left and I could have talked to her-”

“No, Robby.” Jack shakes his head. “I understand you’re grieving and deeply upset and a lot of horrible fucking things have happened today, but you do not get to blame me for this just because I’m trying to stop you from blaming yourself.” 

Robby looks away from him again and is quiet. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“It’s okay, I get it.” Jack reaches over and squeezes Robby’s shoulder. “You know I do,” he whispers. 

“She’s not going to wake up is she Jack?” Robby slowly looks over at Jack with tears streaming down his face as the numbness he’d gotten himself to starts to fade and he’s left with overwhelming grief and sorrow. 

Jack’s quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t know, Robby. She’s young. That’s heavily in her favor with all of this. We got the swelling and pressure down quickly once she got here.” 

“Yeah,” Robby huffs, “but who the fuck knows how long she was out there. It had to have been at least an hour if not closer to two. That’s a long fucking time to have blood on the brain and a high ICP, Jack.”

“It’s hard to know Robby. It’s hard to know how long and if the bleeding and swelling started immediately or if it took time to come on or what.” Jack nods slowly. “But we both know she’s stubborn and a fighter.” 

Robby scoffs. It’s at himself and not Jack’s admittedly correct observation about you. “She doesn’t think she has anything left to fight for.”

“Yes she does. She knows she does.” Jack looks like he’s debating whether to say more. 

“What?”

Jack lets out a breath. “When her GCS came up, before we intubated her, she started repeating your name. Michael. So I think she knows she has a lot to fight for. Has you to fight for.”

The thought slams into Robby. You were saying his name. That’s the word your injured brain came up with. His name. His fucking name. Michael. 

Robby’s phone buzzing in his pocket distracts him from his thoughts for a few seconds. He goes to pull it out of his pocket but stops as the realization hits him. “She called me Jack, she called me. Right after I spoke with everyone, she called me. Twice.” He stands up and starts pacing the length of the room. “She might have been trying to get to a busier street like you said because maybe she was being followed or something and she knew she was in danger and that’s why she called me. For help. And I, I sent her straight to voicemail and then just let it ring. I ignored her. I ignored her.”  

“You don’t know that Robby,” Jack shakes his head, “I know it’s hard but you have to try not to let yourself go there. She could’ve been calling you for any number of reasons.”

“No, Jack.” Robby stops pacing near the wall at the far side of the room from Jack. “We both know that she called for something related to what happened.” He can feel the adrenaline start to crash as he looks back down at you in surgery. “She called because she needed me and I wasn’t there.”

He’s thankful when Jack doesn’t try to argue with him on this one and just lets him have it. Robby focuses on watching what they’re doing to you while he thinks about you. How much he loves you, how perfect you are for him, how beautiful and smart you are, how lucky he is just to know you. And then another realization hits him. 

He never told you he loves you. 

The adrenaline crash finally hits him. Robby turns away from the window and steps backwards until he hits the wall and slides down it, just like he did in pedes earlier today. But this time you’re not coming to find him. You might never come to find him again. “I never told her I love her,” he manages to get out clearly enough for Jack to hear before he starts sobbing and slips into a total breakdown, finally letting himself sob freely even more than in pedes earlier. Robby breaks all the way down, comes completely unglued because he can’t get the grief and hurt out fast enough, and what he does get out is immediately replaced. 

“She knows,” Jack says quietly as he sits next to Robby and leans back against the wall. 

Robby lets himself lean against Jack a bit just to feel someone else even though he doesn’t think he deserves any comfort from anyone. This is all his fault. He made this bed and now he has to lay in it. “I never told her Jack, she’ll never get to hear it from me, I’ll never know she heard it,” Robby chokes out between sobs over and over. “I never told her I love her.”

The two sit there until Robby cries himself out and for a bit longer after while Robby tries to pull himself together. By the time they get up you’re out of surgery and settled in a room in the neuro-ICU. 

“Dana and I will be downstairs. Call or text if you need anything,” Jack tells Robby as they stand outside your room.

Robby nods distractedly at Jack. “Yeah thanks,” he mumbles as Jack walks away.

He forces himself to open the door to your room and step in, closing the door behind him and walking towards your bed. “Oh god, Kid,” Robby lets out through a shuddery breath as he gets close enough to really see you. He saw you from a distance in the OR but that was nothing compared to seeing you close up.

The bruising and swelling is some of the worst Robby has ever seen and it’s you. They stitched your cheek well. Your incision looks good too all things considered, the drain they left in isn’t too full. You’re intubated, hooked up to more monitors and drugs than Robby cares to look at right now. But this is you. Robby is looking at you and seeing all of this. This is you. 

He thought he had truly cried himself out, that he didn’t have any tears left but somehow more find him. “I’m so sorry,” he sniffles as he pulls a chair over close to your bed and sits in it. He takes your hand so gently, holding it between both of his like he’s holding the thinnest piece of glass that’s waiting to be broken. Robby rests his forehead on the back of his top hand as he lets more tears fall. “I’m so sorry for everything, I love you so much and I need you to come back to me.” 

Robby pulls his head back up to look at you, finally lets himself squeeze your hand a little. “I need you. I really fucking need you, Kid. So please. Please come back,” he hiccups out, close to giving into his sobs once more. 

He tries to think back on what you look like normally, when you’re not this bruised and swollen and don’t have stitches or partially shaved hair or an incision on your scalp or a drain. The only image Robby’s brain will conjure up for him is the expression on your face in the supply closet earlier today. How the more he spoke the more upset you became, how the sadness and heartbreak took over all of your features, how your tears slid down your cheeks and your lips trembled. 

It’s all he can see and it triggers that memory to start playing again. Him breaking up with you in that supply closet. Him being needlessly mean. Him refusing to listen to you. And it hits him like so many other realizations have tonight. What’s likely to be the last thing he ever said to you.

No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.

Robby holds your hand against the side of his face as he rests his head on your thigh and lets himself sob again. Because what the fuck else is he supposed to do. 

A couple of days pass. They’re able to wean you off the ventilator so you’re breathing on your own now and you’ve been stable the entire time. Robby knows how good that is, how good of a sign it is. But it’s hard for him to appreciate when you’re still unconscious and not really here with him. He wants to talk to you. Tell you that he loves you and he’s sorry. He wants to work it all out, to have you forgive him and get better and go home with him and get engaged and married and grow old together. He says it to you over and over, to your unconscious form. But that’s not the same. He doesn’t know if you’re hearing him. 

Time passes slowly. He reads on his phone sometimes. Jack and Dana come to visit frequently and most of the ED has stopped by for at least a couple of minutes by now so that breaks up the days a bit. 

But Robby’s pretty sure he spends most of his days just watching you and replaying your last day together over and over in his head. Ruminating on what might be the last thing he ever said to you. No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you. Ruminating on how sad and destroyed you looked.

The buzzing of his phone pulls him from his thoughts. 

D - Can I get you anything? Coffee or water?

He’s been given multiple cups of coffee over the last couple of days. Nobody has asked. They’ve just brought him cups figuring he needed it or that it would be some small gesture of comfort. He didn’t think much of it. But seeing the word in Dana’s text makes the memory hit him hard.

That coffee. That fucking coffee he made that morning that lead to him accidentally hurting you and the two of you having a little tiff. And he used the coffee as an excuse to say no and now he might have turned down his last chance to ever be intimate with you, to ever be that close to and with you. 

And that coffee is still sitting there. The mug he poured himself and the carafe. He has to go home to it. It’ll be sitting there waiting and ready to taunt him when he has to walk in his front door without you. Without you in his life. Without you in the world. With you in the morgue. 

Robby isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to drink coffee again. 

He doesn’t reply to Dana immediately. Can’t bring himself to. Robby puts his phone back in his pocket and looks at you. Your fingers moving catches his eye and he stands, heart rate speeding up as he watches you open and close your hands. 

“Kid?” He grabs your hand and wraps it in a fist around two of his fingers. “Can you open your eyes for me? Or squeeze my hand?” You do neither and Robby’s heart sinks. But he keeps talking to you, keeps trying to coax you back to him. 

A few minutes pass and Robby wants to sob with joy for once when you flutter your eyes open. Everything is too much. It’s too bright and too loud and god everything hurts. You think you might be sick. But as you adjust you finally start to really hear noise. It just kind of sounds like gibberish though, you don’t know what any of it means. You also realize you have no idea where you are or what happened and that scares you. Your eyes focus and you realize Robby is standing by you and crying, and while him crying worries you, you’re just relieved to see someone you recognize, someone who cares about you. 

“Mic-” You stop yourself and lick your lips before trying to speak again. Because for whatever reason that’s the memory that comes into your mind first. “Dr. Robinavitch.” His name is heavily slurred and difficult for you to force out, but Robby knows exactly what you’re saying. He knows you started to say Michael and caught yourself. 

So he knows that you remember. That some piece of you remembers what happened. He shakes his head at you and squeezes your hand. “Hey, Kid, no. No, please. You can call me Michael. Or Robby. Whatever you want, okay? I’ve been so worried about you.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as another wave of tears soaks Robby’s beard. A searing pain worse than anything you’ve ever felt before hits your head and you wince and groan as everything fades back to black. 

“Kid? What’s wrong? Stay with me, yeah?” But Robby knows by the way your body goes limp that you’re unconscious again. “Fuck,” he mutters. He knows that’s not unexpected, but he was really praying you would be one of the ones who just wake up and are fine. And he realizes he just had his opportunity. That the first words out of his mouth should have been that he loves you. But they weren’t, he didn’t say it at all. And now you’re unconscious again.

He lets go of your hand and steps away from your bed, planning on pacing a little as he texts Dana and Jack to let them know you woke up briefly. Robby doesn’t get the chance though. Because as soon as he pulls out his phone your intracranial pressure monitor alarm goes off and you start to seize. 

Robby gives you one last lingering kiss before pulling out of you with a groan and falling onto his back beside you. He takes off the condom, ties it and tosses it in the trash before settling in next to you and pulling the sheet up and over you so that you don’t get cold. 

The two of you finally just had sex for the first time and Robby already knows your pussy is like a drug to him. He’s never going to be able to get enough, is constantly going to think about it. He bets your mouth will join it. 

His hand closest to you splays out over your tummy, something that feels, and is, protective and possessive. His other hand comes up to rest behind his head against his pillow. He knows he’s grinning like a love sick idiot. 

“I have a confession,” he says through soft pants as he continues to come back down. You can hear that love sick idiot grin in his voice.

“Oh yeah?” you sigh happily, still panting a little yourself.

“After that, I kind of really regret waiting until you were an attending,” he chuckles. There’s enough of a teasing lilt to his voice to know he’s not being completely serious, but some seriousness rings through. 

You scoff at him and grab your pillow under your head, turn onto your side as you hit him with it over his chest and stomach. 

“Hey!” He grabs the pillow from you as he turns on his side to face you. “What was that for? That’s just how good the sex was!” He gives you a look before giving you your pillow back. 

“That’s why you regret waiting until I was an attending? The sex. Just the sex?” You fake pout at him.“Not me in general? Dating me? Kissing me even? It took you until being inside of me to regret waiting?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. It was just a funny joke.” He smirks at you as you roll your eyes at him playfully. “You think the sex would be that good if the chemistry we have with our clothes on wasn’t here? If I didn’t love spending time with you and dating you and kissing you?” 

“You know, you never asked me if the sex was that good.” You smirk at him now. 

“Oh,” Robby laughs, leaning in and kissing you for a second and then letting his lips ghost yours. “You’re not really trying to tell me it wasn’t. Because I think the scratches on my back and how hard your pussy squeezed me when you came on my cock and how you were crying my name beg to differ.” 

You smile as you shiver a little at the memory. “I never said it wasn’t, I merely pointed out that you didn’t ask.” You give him another kiss. 

Robby pulls back and looks at you. “Was it good? Was it worth the wait?” He pauses for a second but then gets it out. “Was it better than with him?” The teasing nature of the first two questions gets watered down with the last. There’s some real insecurity there. Robby just knows the guy you went out with and slept with was fit and closer to your age. 

You smile at him fondly, run your hand up and down his side. “Better than I ever could’ve hoped to imagine, Michael, and trust me I did a lot of imagining over the last four years. So it was more than worth the wait.” You let your hand slide up his chest and neck and cup his face. “And yes, it was better than with him. Because you’re better in bed than him and because you care and because there’s something real here and because I’m more attracted to you. Which I think is something I’m just going to have to show you.” You can both see him blush and feel the heat coming off his cheeks under your hand. “I didn’t mean to ruin it and make you insecure. It was amazing. You were incredible. I’ve never had that good of sex and I’ve never been more attracted to and turned on by a man in my life. I promise.” 

Robby puts his hand over yours and smiles. “You didn’t ruin anything and believe me you weren’t what made me insecure. That’s all self-driven. I just know I’m older and my body is much… different.”

“It is yeah.” You nod, pull your hand from under his and run it down his neck and chest and tummy, lick your lips. “It’s much fucking better.”

He just laughs. “Whatever you say, Kid.” 

“Good, yes. Remember that. Make that your mantra.” You nod as you laugh with him. 

The two of you keep chatting as you wait for him to recover, waiting to be ready to go again. You’re planning on staying the night and neither of you work tomorrow or the next day so you have plenty of time to explore each other. The conversation eventually ends up turning to sex and likes and dislikes and would tries and wheres and whens. 

“How do you feel about shower sex?” You smile at him curiously. 

Robby lets out a soft chuckle. “I feel like I’ve been an emergency room physician too long and know better.” 

“So no?”

He lets out a breath. “It would really depend, but I really doubt it. Not penetrative sex at least. Oral… I think I could be persuaded quite easily.” 

“Oh, good to know.” You flick your eyebrows up at him suggestively. “Bathtub sex?” 

“Sounds great.” He nods. 

“Car sex?”

He lets out a small laugh that reflects the way your question took him a little by surprise. “It would depend on when and where exactly, I suppose. But not a categorical rule out by any means.” 

You make a face of consideration and nod before smirking at him because you know this one is going to pull a reaction. “On-call room sex?” 

“Ha!” Robby lets out a surprised laugh and thinks about for a second, a slight blush creeping up. “I mean I would never say never but I, I don’t know. It’s so, I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

You hum in acknowledgment. “Hospital roof sex?” 

He shakes his head at you and your questions but thinks about it for a second. “Maybe. At the right time. Maybe.”

“Quickie in someone’s bathroom?” 

“Depends.”

“Whiskey dick?” 

“Oh my god,” he laughs under his breath, turning his head into the pillow for a second as a deep blush creeps up his chest and neck to his cheeks. “Not that I can recall, but it’s been a bit since I’ve been inebriated and really tried to do anything.” 

“Okay, so we need to experiment with that. Got it,” you giggle. “Alcohol can make me a little slutty sometimes.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He reaches out and pinches the side of your ass teasingly. “I’ve seen you get quite drunk before. More than once. I’ve even made sure you got home safely on more than one occasion.”

You grab his hand with yours so he can’t pinch you again. “True,” you sigh. “Such a noble gentleman not taking advantage of me. Not that I’d have minded.” You laugh and Robby just shakes his head at you as he smiles, the corners of his eye crinkling so perfectly. You sit there looking at each other in silence for a bit, your fingers playing with his absent-mindedly. “Remember celebrating my champagne tap?” 

“Of course,” he chuckles. “How could I ever forget the two of us sitting on the hospital roof drinking nice champagne straight out of the bottle with some stale cheez-its we scrounged from the breakroom?” 

“Oh god, those cheez-its were so fucking stale,” you laugh. 

“They were pretty fucking bad.” Robby pulls his hand from yours and cups your cheek this time, growing more serious. “I was so proud of you. First tap and zero red blood cells. I got you good champagne. Normally I just get something cheap. Don’t tell anyone.”

“And here I thought you got me good champagne because you liked me.” You smirk but it fades into a fond smile quickly. “That was one of the best days and best nights of my entire residency.” 

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yeah?” You nod at him. “Why?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. You absolutely know, it’s just hard to explain. “I laughed so hard I cried several times that night. I left feeling human again. Like I was more than just an intern. And you did that. You made me feel like that. And earlier in the day, when we were on shift you made me feel like a doctor for the first time, and a good one at that. There’s not a ton of good vivid memories from residency, but I distinctly remember getting home and thinking how on that one day you’d made me feel like a real doctor for the first time ever and like a real person for the first time since at least before medical school.” 

You look a little misty eyed because it truly was a day and night that meant so much to you. You’ve wanted this man for so long and now that you have him you’re never letting him go. Robby looks at you with the softest smile and devoted eyes, the two of you sharing the moment. You break the silence with a soft chuckle. “If I hadn’t already been down hopelessly bad for you that sure would’ve done it.” 

He laughs through his nose at that, blushes a little. He just can’t believe you’ve wanted him as long as he’s wanted you. “That night is special for me too. It’s one of the best memories I have at the Pitt. Or in general, honestly.” 

“Yeah? Why?”

His answer comes quick but breathtaking in its admission and simplicity. “Because I was just myself and it was enough for you. And I’d never really had that before.” Both your and Robby’s eyes grow glassy. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. You know what he means. That it was easy and he could be unfiltered and himself and knew he wouldn’t be judged. 

“Michael,” you whisper. You take his hand from your cheek and kiss at his palm and the back of his hand and knuckles before squeezing it and looking at him. “You weren’t just enough, you were more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough. You always will be.” 

You scoot closer and press your bodies together as you kiss him, trying to pour into him how much more than enough he truly is for you. The two of you stay like that, just making out and being close until you have to pull away a bit for some air.

“We should share champagne and stale cheez-its on the roof together more often,” Robby teases, his arm winding around you. 

You smirk at him and raise your eyebrows. “Could do that before the hospital roof sex.” 

“Stop it.” He let out a fake groan and rolls his eyes playfully as he rolls you on your back and hovers over you.

Your smirk grows. “Make me.”

Days pass. They turn into weeks. Weeks turn into a month. 

The seizure you had was due to a sudden spike in your ICP so they did a craniectomy, removed a piece of your skull to help relieve the pressure on your brain and accommodate the swelling. 

You’re not brain dead. You’re in a coma. You’ve been in a coma for over a month now. 

For 41 days. 

41 days without you. 

41 days Robby hasn’t been home. 

Because he can’t bring himself to go home. He can’t face that coffee. Can’t face all of your things that have made their way to his place over time. Can’t face walking in without you. 

Initially he had to fight to be able to stay overnight with you while you were in the neuro-ICU but he was one of the hospital’s own so it hadn’t been a particularly hard fight. Jack and Dana promised one of them would stay the night with you and convinced him to go to Jack’s place a few times to get some real sleep on a real bed. He managed to get one of the nicer cots brought to your room so it isn’t like he’s sleeping in a chair, but still, it’s a cot and he gets woken up during the night when your nurse comes in to check your vitals and look you over every couple of hours. 

He had Jack go to his place to get him clothes and toiletries and your shampoo and conditioner that was in his shower. He gave Jack specific instructions not to touch the coffee on the counter. He had to face that eventually. He had to be the one to deal with it. 

Having any of your stuff at the hospital felt wrong and like tempting fate but once you were cleared to have your head moved enough to deal with your hair, Robby started doing it for you every few days so that it didn’t get matted. He made sure to leave it in a style that would help prevent matting too. He also helped bathe you too, meticulously using a sponge to clean your skin so that when you woke up you wouldn’t feel gross.

There were at least some positives over the 41 days. You hadn’t had another seizure. As far as they could tell you had normal sensation in all your extremities. You had surgery to repair your tripod fracture on day 9 and it had gone fine. The swelling in your brain subsided and your ICP decreased and returned to normal so they were able to do a cranioplasty to put the piece of your skull they had removed back in and remove your drain on day 23. And on day 35 they were able to extubate you and you’ve been breathing fine on your own since then. 

Robby thought that was going to be the turning point. That you’d wake up soon after. But no. You haven’t. It’s getting harder and harder to believe that you will.

He’s still not drinking coffee. It’s either black tea or a Redbull he tries to pace drinking and not just chug. But sometimes he does because the heart palpitations caused by 111 mg of caffeine hitting his system all at once give him something physical to really feel. Something other than the nausea and the tension making him ache all over and pop a concerning amount of ibuprofen.

He listened to Dana. Somewhere around day 10 she told him that he might want to think about going back to work, to save his time off. And so Robby forced himself to go back to work on day 15. He knew she was right, that he’d want the time off when you woke up and really needed him. 

If you woke up.

If you needed him. 

Robby’s still terrified you’re going to wake up and tell him to get out. That he broke up with you and made that bed and he has to go lay in it. That what happened to you doesn’t change anything. That you’ll find other people to help you. He spends just about all of his free time with you despite his worries, only excepting the few times he’s gone to Jack’s to sleep. He has to. He loves you and doesn’t know how to exist in the world without you and this is the only way he can have you right now. 

He also listened to Jack and started therapy. If he’s honest with himself he knows it’s already helping. He can already feel the difference in how he thinks and feels and interacts. Jack and Dana have both commented on it. He’s ready for you to wake up and hopefully see and feel the difference, see that he’s not just willing to work on himself but that he’s actually doing it. He hopes it’ll help you forgive him. 

Robby’s off today so he’s sitting in his chair beside you in your room like he normally does, plays with your fingers absentmindedly as he reads out loud for the both of you. At first he thinks it’s just him imagining things again, because god knows he’s imagined your fingers twitching against his and your hand squeezing his more than once or twice over the last 41 days. 

He always checks though, he always has to. Just in case it’s real. He lets go of your fingers and rests them on the bed. And this is that just in case. Because it’s real. Your fingers are moving.

“Hey.” Robby stands up and leans over you, brushes his thumb over your forehead lightly and takes your hand back, squeezes it. “Can you open your eyes for me, Kid?” 

You don’t, but your fingers twitch in his hand again and he’s sure he can see your eyes moving under your eyelids. He looks over you and sees your other hand moving, your feet too. 

“Come back to me, Kid, yeah?” Robby puts his hand in yours gently. “Can you squeeze my hand? Try for me, hm?”

There’s nothing for a second but then he feels you try to. It’s undoubtedly incredibly weak but it’s still following a command. “That was so good Kid,” Robby praises you, already getting a little teary. “Try to come back to me. Follow my voice.”

Your head moves a little but quickly stills, face pulling up in a slight grimace. “Can you make a fist with your other hand?” He’s desperate for you to open your eyes and talk to him again, but he’ll take this, take you following commands, take knowing you’re in there. 

Robby knows that even if you do open your eyes, there’s no guarantees. No guarantees you’ll recognize him or be able to speak or that your personality will be the same or that you’ll be cognitively the same. But you’ll be awake. He’ll be able to look in your eyes again. 

There’s a little delay again but he watches as you do your best to make your other hand a fist. You don’t get particularly close to an actual fist but you very clearly are trying, are responding to his command. Robby knows he should call your nurse so she can page your doctor but he’s worried if more people come in and you get overwhelmed you’ll stop. 

“Good job, Kid,” he murmurs, squeezing your other hand a little. He lets it go and walks down to the end of your bed, pulls the blankets up a little so your feet are free. “Can you press down with your feet? Like you’re pushing the accelerator?”

After a couple of seconds you do. It’s weak and there’s not a ton of movement but there’s some. There’s some and that’s hope. Hope enough for Robby. 

“Good, that was good. I’m so proud of you.” He pulls the blankets back over your feet and walks back to the head of your bed. “Can you open your eyes now, Kid? Come back to me all the way, hm?”

The words feel a little wrong in his mouth. They have every time he’s asked you to come back to him. Because Robby knows he has absolutely no fucking right to ask you that. Not after the way he spoke to you and treated you. After the last thing he said to you. But he asks anyway. 

“You’ve done so good. I’m right here, okay?” He grabs your hand again. “I’m with you. So open your eyes, yeah? Let me see you, let me see your pretty eyes.” Robby watches as your eyes continue to move behind your eyelids, and he sees your lashes flutter like you’re trying to open your eyes. “Good, that’s good. I know you’re trying for me, thank you. Thank you, Kid. Just keep trying. Come back to me. Open your eyes.”

Your hand squeezes his a little harder than it had previously had and that’s what breaks him, a few tears running down Robby’s face that he’s quick to wipe away. 

“Come on Kid,” his voice is thicker with his tears than he’d like it to be. “You can do it, I know you can. Open your eyes for me. Open your eyes for me, please. Please.” He’s pleading now. 

Robby whispers your name and words of encouragement as he watches your eyes continue to move, lashes continue to flutter, more and more. And then it happens. Your eyes flutter open. It’s for less than a second though as you slam them back shut and pull away, grimacing at the pain. 

It’s too fucking bright and everything fucking hurts. Despite it seeming like you were slowly coming back to, for you it feels like consciousness slams back into you all at once. There’s suddenly so much light even through your eyelids and so many sounds and it smells like Robby and the hospital. You’re hyper aware of whatever it is you’re wearing and the blankets over you. It’s overwhelming. It’s too much. 

Robby laughs through a sob. “Hi Kid.”

You keep trying to get your eyes to stay open but struggle to. You squeeze Robby’s hand and lift one finger, trying to point at the windows. You struggle to process how unbelievably weak you feel. You’ve never felt like this before, where it’s hard to even move a finger. It’s scary. Everything feels so scary right now. You don’t know why you feel like this, aren’t sure where you are. But you know Robby is here with you and that gives you some comfort because you trust him not to let anything happen to you. You know him. Recognize him.

It takes him a second to put it all together, but he moves fast when he does, almost running over to lower the blinds over your windows and dim the room lights. “That better?” He asks as he returns to stand at the top of your bed, slipping his hand back in yours. 

It takes another couple of minutes for you to really get your eyes open and keep them open, in part because you’re trying to acclimate back to awareness, but eventually it comes.

You blink a few times as he comes into focus, your eyes looking around the room a little before landing back on him. He’s smiling at you as tears stream down his face. More fear seeps into you at his tears because you don’t understand why he’s crying. You don’t understand anything right now. “Michael.”

Your voice is nearly unrecognizable with how weak and raw and cracked it is but Robby beams at you. You thought you’d seen him beam at you before but no. He’s never smiled like this at you before. He’s looking at you like you think he might on your wedding day. Like you’re everything to him, the only thing that matters and his whole world and life. It’s contagious and you can’t help but give him a small genuine, but weak, smile back. 

He lets out another sobbed laugh when you smile at him, more tears streaking his face. You calling him Michael gives him hope. That you’ll forgive him and the two of you will be okay and that you’re going to be okay and recover well. That you’ll have the future the two of you have talked about before, marriage, maybe a kid or two running around the house you buy together. 

“Hey, Kid.” He squeezes your hand again and leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you.”

You furrow your brows at that a little as he pulls back. “What?” You start to cough a little and groan a little at the pain. It just makes you more scared.

“Here,” he says quietly when you stop. He puts his hands in the right position on your neck. “Can you swallow?” Focusing on you like this helps his tears stop. 

Getting your brain to execute the task feels harder than the actual act itself but after a few seconds you do without much of a problem. Robby deems it good enough for some small sips of water. He grabs the cup of water he changes every few hours just in case and grabs an empty needleless syringe from his pocket. He draws a bit of the water up and brings the syringe to your mouth. This way he can control how much you’re having at once, yes, but he also doesn’t know if you’re able to use a straw yet and just wants to get you some relief. 

You take the small dispenses of water he gives you greedily, swallow them down without any issue. “There you go,” Robby murmurs as he finishes giving you what’s left in the syringe. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. Your voice is still pretty raw and it hurts to hear far more than he thought it would. He thought he’d feel sheer relief hearing it again, and he does, there is so much relief in hearing your voice. But it’s also partially a reminder of everything that’s happened. “What happened?”

Robby grabs his chair and pulls it back over to the side of your bed and sits. “When you fell you hit your head-”

“When did I fall?” The confusion is clear in your voice. 

Robby’s stomach twists a little, his smile faltering. You don’t remember. It wouldn’t be surprising for you to have some retrograde amnesia, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean it’s permanent. But he needs to know. 

Robby needs to know what the last thing you remember is. In part because that’s where he’ll start telling you what happened and in part because he needs to know if you remember the supply closet. Because now he’s not sure if you called him Michael because you heard him before you had your seizure or because you don’t remember the supply closet.

He clears his throat. “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks gently. “Don’t strain yourself, just whatever you can think of.” 

You try to think back but it’s hard. It feels like you don’t know how to think in a way, like you can’t get your mind to move out of the present and what’s directly in front of you. 

Robby can see you struggling and prompts you to see if it’ll help. “Do you remember any of the PittFest MCI?”

His prompt helps, gives your brain something to wrap itself around and it slowly feels like you can think again and the memory comes back. “Pedes. After Leah died. I remember sit, sit, sitting and talk, talking with you and then we got up and went back to it.” You’re having some trouble with your speech. It’s not that you can’t think of the words, it’s that you can’t seem to get your mouth to say them how you want. It just makes you more scared. What if it’s always like this? “But nothing after you thank, thanking me and wal-, walk, walking away.” 

You look over at him and shake your head a little despite the increase in pain it causes. “Are you okay?” You start to get a little worked up about it, about whether Robby is okay. Not about yourself. Your focus completely shifts to him. “I’m here for you. We can talk.” You try to reach your hand out for his but your arm doesn’t move the way you want it to. 

It’s just something else that warms and breaks Robby’s heart. Here you are in the hospital having just woken up from a coma with a severe TBI and you’re worried about him. Like really worried and starting to get worked up which your body absolutely doesn’t need right now. 

“Hey, I’m okay.” He gives you a reassuring nod and takes your hand, he saw you trying to move it toward him. “I’m okay, I promise. We can talk eventually, yeah, but right now I’m not worried about that or myself.” 

You calm down a bit hearing that he’s okay. But you know he’s not worried about that or himself because he’s worried about you, and you hate that for a number of reasons. You hate it because it just makes the fear come back into focus. You hate it because you’re making him worry, causing him pain. You hate it because he needs to focus on himself and healing. And you hate it because you don’t understand it, don’t have any idea why he’s worried about you. 

“What happened?” you whisper again. 

Robby takes a deep breath in. You’re calling him Michael because you don’t remember, not because you heard him before you seized and it’s a little sign of forgiveness. You don’t remember him breaking up with you, the way he treated you. A part of him doesn’t want to tell you. Wants to bet on you not remembering that part ever and him getting away with it almost, being able to pretend it didn’t happen. But he knows he can’t. He’d never get over the guilt of lying to you, because it would be a huge lie by omission. 

But Robby also knows he can’t tell you now. Not right now. Not when you just woke up. Because he can’t risk you getting escalated and the additional strain it would put on your body. In a day or so. He’ll tell you in a day or so he promises himself and you. 

“We’re not entirely sure. After the MCI you were walking home and we think you got punched from the side and fell backwards and hit the side of your head on the curb. It was probably a mugging, your backpack and phone were missing.” He squeezes your hand gently. “You were down for a while but once you were found you got brought here and Jack got you stable. Longitudinal basilar skull fracture, depressed skull fracture along your left parietal and temporal. Massive subdural hematoma, tripod fracture on your right. Some cuts and bruises, broken nose, you had a cut on your face that needed stitches. Jack made sure Plastics did it. Stitches are out already. Obviously you had surgery to evacuate the hematoma. You woke up briefly, for just a few seconds, and then seized from high ICP. Craniectomy, cranioplasty. They got your tripod fixed. Stitches and staples are all out.”

You look away from Robby while you try to take all of that in. Your head is swimming. On the one hand you’re relieved you know what all that shit means still given the severity of your TBI. And it explains the weakness you feel, why your head hurts, why Robby is worried, why he did a quick swallow test, why you’re struggling to get some words out, why you felt like you couldn’t think and your apparent retrograde amnesia. On the other though, holy fuck it’s a lot to take in. Hearing everything you went through feels like more than your injured brain can handle or process. 

That last part sticks out to you though. All the stitches and staples are out. That means time has passed. A decent chunk of it. 

You look back at Robby and swallow hard, think to yourself it’s a good sign that you can. “How long?” you whisper. 

You recognize his furrowed brows, crinkled sad eyes and frown for what they are, sympathy, an indicator of hard news to come. But a part of you can’t help but feel like it’s a look of pity. Like he’s here because he feels bad for you. “You were out for two days initially. After you seized… 41 days.”

You knew it was going to be long from his expression, but you didn’t expect a month and a half. “Oh my god,” you gasp quietly. “Michael, that’s so long.” 

Your pained and horrified expression kills him. More and more pieces of him are breaking off inside and he feels it, feels each one. He can only hope that there’s enough good in your recovery for them to heal back over. 

But the second you start crying he does again too. “I know, Kid,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry.” He stands back up and gently wipes away some of your tears. “Can I kiss you? Please?” His eyes tell you just how badly he needs you to say yes, how he’s been sitting here for that month and a half needing to kiss you, needing to see your eyes and hear your voice. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle and he helps wipe away more tears. “Please.”

He gives you a watery smile before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips that you’re finally able to reciprocate. It’s more than one. You knew it would be and you’re glad it is, you need to feel close to him. It’s like your body and mind missed him, missed the way his lips felt against yours as you kissed him back, is still missing the feeling of cuddling with him and sleeping in his arms and hugging him. It brings tears to your eyes but you’re too tired to cry. After at least a dozen kisses Robby rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. I’m not just saying that because of all of this. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, I just never found the courage to say it.” 

His admission catches you off guard, his words so unexpected. But it warms your heart, makes butterflies flutter in your stomach and your chest tighten in a good way. He pulls away to look at you, his stomach in knots about whether you’ll reciprocate. “I love you too. Have for a while now.” The smile you give him is weak but genuine and it has him beaming at you. 

“Good,” he whispers before leaning back in for another few kisses. 

You turn your head to the side a little after a few. “I’m sorry but I… I’m really tired Michael.” You want to say more, want to ask him to get in bed but the exhaustion has hit and words and speaking suddenly feel so hard and your brain hurts. So you don’t. You can’t.

“I’m sure you are, just get some rest, okay?” He pulls his head away and smiles at you. He’s glad your eyes are already closed because he wouldn’t be able to even try to fake a reassuring smile right now. The terror he feels at you going back to sleep and slipping back into a coma has to be written all over his face. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” 

You don’t reply, have already drifted off. Robby calls your nurse and lets her know you woke up, asks her to send your doctor in. She does and Robby and your doctor discuss you, what you were like, what Robby observed. Ultimately they decide to let you rest and not wake you for more tests. 

It’s a few hours later when you shift on the bed more than you have before. Robby can tell it’s a similar movement to what you do sometimes when you wake up at home so he stands from his chair and squeezes your hand gently. 

After a moment or so your eyes open again, find him quickly. “Michael.” It’s truly croaked out.

Everything is too much as you return to consciousness. Too bright and too loud and you can feel everything touching you, all the fabric and plastic tubing and wires. You recognize it as a hospital. 

“Hey, I’m here,” he smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Weak. Where…” You take a couple of heavy breaths as you look around the room, brows furrowing and lips pulling down. “Why am I in the hospital? What happened?”

You’re scared. The room doesn’t reveal any clues about why you’re here. All you know is your head hurts, everything seems to hurt and moving any part of you feels like pushing a boulder around. You’re so weak you can barely get a hand into your lap from where it rested on the bed. And Robby, he was happy when you woke up but you could see the concern in his brown eyes, could see his own worry and knew it was for you. 

Robby stiffens, heart starting to slip into his stomach, a feeling of dread settling in even though he knows some anterograde amnesia wouldn’t be the end of the world and would likely go away. “What do you mean?”

You look back over at him with that same expression, eyes widening a little as the fear and panic set in, his frightened look only making it worse. “What happened?” 

“You don’t remember us talking about this earlier?” He tries to keep his voice steady and calm because he can see how scared you’re growing.

Your chin trembles and tears start to slide down your cheeks. “No.”

“Okay, okay, that’s okay. It’s okay to not remember right now.” He’s able to set aside his concern at this development to reassure and comfort you, hiding his own fear well enough that his smile is actually helping reassure you. He wipes some tears from your face again. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll tell you what happened.” 

He repeats the story, tells you how long it’s been. But this time you don’t focus on that as your head spins. You’re too caught up on the fact that you and Robby apparently had this conversation before. 

“And now I can’t rem, re, remem,” you huff, frustrated with yourself and your inability to get the word out easily, “remember.” 

Robby nods. “The anterograde amnesia could be temporary. So could your retrograde amnesia. Mostly likely they both will be temporary. What’s the last thing you can remember? Don’t push yourself, just whatever you can remember.”

You try to remember, try to do what he asks. But your brain doesn’t seem to know how to think, doesn’t know where to begin. It hurts trying to remember, and feeling like you’re unable to think scares you into shutting down this time. “I don’t know and think, thinking is hard. I…”

“Okay, it’s okay.” He’s still smiling at you, can tell you won’t be receptive to a prompt this time. “We don’t need to worry about that right now. You should get some more rest, okay? Let your brain rest.”

You try to squeeze his hand lightly, get enough pressure behind it for him to notice and glance down at your hands, his smile widening. “What if I don’t remember?”

Robby looks back up at you. “Then I’ll tell you again, I promise.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” you whisper. 

“Not about should or shouldn’t, Kid.” He kisses your forehead, hopes the gesture will feel familiar and comforting. “If that’s part of how you need me right now then that’s part of how I’m going to help you.” 

You look over at the window. He pulled the blinds back up when it got dark. He likes staring out of it sometimes. There’s something vaguely soothing about looking out and down on the city. “I don’t want to sleep.”

“Okay,” he nods, watching you get lost looking out the window. “I’m going to get your doctor, okay?”

You hum at him in response. Robby’s able to tell your nurse you’re awake again but resting and gets told your doctor is in an emergency surgery but will be by as soon as he can. Robby wants to keep talking to you, wants to have you talking to him but he knows you need to rest your brain so he sits quietly with you, strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. 

If asked you wouldn’t be able to describe how it happens or when exactly it started to happen. Twenty or so minutes after you woke up looking out the window grows unfamiliar, your surroundings suddenly new again. You look around the room, recognize it as a hospital room. Recognize Robby sitting next to you as you look at him. “Michael?” 

“Yeah, Kid?” Robby’s heart sinks further. He knows what you’re about to ask, recognizes the all too familiar look of confusion and panic in your eyes. You haven’t even slept. You were awake and it just slipped away from you. 

His expression has your heart mirroring his and sinking. It feels vaguely like you shouldn’t need to ask, like you should know already. But you don’t and you’re scared not knowing or understanding anything or what’s going on right now so you have to ask. 

“Why am I here? What happened?” 

“Do I finally get to know where it is you’re taking me so that I can dress appropriately?” You ask Robby as you open the door to your closet. 

“Jeans and a shirt will be more than fine.” He motions to himself. “Look at what I’m wearing.” 

“Michael,” you whine a little. “That’s unhelpful. Like a t-shirt or are we talking a blouse or something even a bit fancier than that? And I just want to know. Why the big surprise?”

“A t-shirt will be okay. You could do a blouse if you wanted but you don’t need to.” He stands from the edge of your bed and walks up to you, wrapping his arms around you. “And it’s a surprise because I enjoy teasing you,” he murmurs. “But if you don’t put some clothes on over your bra and underwear soon you’re never going to find out what the surprise is because we won’t make it out the door.”

You swallow hard at his words and Robby’s able to watch your eyes widen as you contemplate his last sentence. “Fine,” you huff, “I’ll just get dressed with no information and hope I don’t end up looking ridiculous!”

Robby chuckles as he lets you step out of his arms and into your closet. “I promise you will not end up looking ridiculous.”

“Famous last words,” you deadpan at him. 

The date starts with dinner at a casual restaurant in the city. 

“Jake asked for my PittFest pass earlier today so he could take Leah instead.” Robby shakes his head at you. You guys are at your table sipping drinks and waiting on your food. 

“Oof,” you say with a sympathetic and somewhat teasing smile. “Ten days away and he wants the girlfriend over the stepdad. That’s rough.”

Robby shrugs it off. “It’s all good. I was a teenage boy once. I get it.” 

You nod at him, growing a little nervous. When he made plans to go to Pittfest you said you were okay working that day. That day. “What are you going to do to keep yourself occupied?” You try to keep it casual.

“Work,” Robby says simply, like it’s not a big deal at all. You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head, mouth opening a little. He shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I have to face the day eventually.” 

“I mean, no,” you shake your head at him, “you don’t. It can just be a day you don’t work. In perpetuity.”

He keeps shaking his head. “I don’t want it to be.” 

You can tell he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, doesn’t want to talk about this ever really, but much less while on a date with you. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to stop and move on. You just read it on him. And you respect it, nodding at him. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He gives you a small smile. “For not making it a thing right now.” 

“Of course.” You return his smile. You both turn your heads to look at your waiter as he sets your food down and tells you to enjoy. 

“Okay,” you clear your throat as you and Robby walk out of the restaurant. “Where to next?”

Robby grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. “This way.” He nods his head to the right. 

You give him a look. “You’re not going to tell me are you?”

He smirks and bobs his head a little while he speaks. “I’ll let the establishment’s sign tell you.”

You snort a laugh. “The establishment’s sign?” You bump your hip with his as you stop at a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn green. Cars race by but there aren’t any other pedestrians near you. “Sometimes I forget just how old you are and then you remind me.”

Robby scoffs but smiles. He stoops down to your level, something you normally hate when he does. But the smirk that has pulled up as he stooped makes it hot. “Yeah,” he leans in so you can feel his breath on your lips, drops his voice low “and you fucking love it. Get all worked up about how much you love my body and crow’s feet and how hot it is that I’m going gray everywhere. So yes,” he closes the distance between your lips and gives you a searing kiss that’s made all the better by how shocked you are that he’s kissing you like this in public. “I’ll let the establishment’s sign tell you.” 

You’re wired for him as you think about what he just said and how he said it, the physicality of it. “What if the establishment was one of our apartments?”

He laughs as he tugs you along gently when the light turns. “Yeah, we’ll get there eventually, Kid. Don’t you worry about that.” 

You nearly stop walking in the middle of the street at the insinuation. “Does that mean you have like… bedroom plans for us?”

Robby glances down at you, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Oh, I have a plan or two in mind for you, yeah.”

You swallow hard. “Okay, so, see, I just really think that your apartment should be the next establishment.”

He shakes his head at you and the two of you continue to walk.  

“Pins?” You look at the sign as Robby slows in front of the building.

“Yeah,” he nods, “you ever been?”

“No, but it’s been on the list of places to go.” You smile brightly at him, excited to finally get to try the place. “I was trying to get a group from work to come here because who else was I going to go with, you know? Just never happened.”

“Well good, I’m glad to know you’ve wanted to try it.” Robby opens the door and holds it for you. 

“Have you been?”

Robby nods. “I took Jake once when it first opened a couple of years ago. I remembered they had shaved ice cocktails and immediately thought of you and knew I had to take you. So here we are.” 

A heavy dose of butterflies hit your stomach. He thought of you. You know he probably does a lot just like you do about him, but hearing him say it is different. You stop walking and turn so that you and Robby are chest to chest. “It’s very sweet of you to think of me like that.”

You push your lips out for a kiss that Robby happily gives you, basking in how happy and excited you look to be here. “Where would you like to start,” he nods to cut you off as you start to answer preemptively, “after we get you a shaved ice cocktail?”

“Mmmm,” you hum as you look around. “Well, that depends on how competitive you’d like to be Dr. Robinavitch.” 

“Oh it’s Dr. Robinavitch now that things are getting competitive, is it?” he laughs. 

“Does the deflecting mean you’re scared to go up against me in anything here?” you grin slyly. 

“Not at all, Kid. We can start however competitive you’d like. I’ll win whatever it is.” Robby gives you a matching grin as he grabs a drinks menu and hands it to you. You roll your eyes at him affectionately and tell him which drink you’d like with a please and he orders them and pays. “Thoughts on what’s first?” Robby asks as he hands you your shaved ice cocktail. 

You’re still looking around. “Yeah, I’m trying to figure out which things I really want to do and then order them from most to least difficult to do while tipsy. Probably anything requiring movement we should do first so we don’t even risk injury because I’ll be very annoyed if we end up at work tonight. So duckpin bowling, bocce, ping pong. The arcade games and pinball are far more stationary.”

“You’re very smart, you know that?” 

You stare at him for a second. You’re not good with compliments most of the time, especially about your intelligence. “I’m saving us both and just going to ignore that question.” You immediately take a bite of your shaved ice and decide as you finish it. “Let’s start with bocce. Something nice and competitive.” 

“Alright, Kid, but don’t get mad when you lose,” Robby challenges.

“Please Robinavitch,” you snort and roll your eyes at him teasingly. “My ball handling skills are far superior to yours.”

You’re both quite tipsy later in the evening when you see the photobooth. All being tipsy does is augment how you feel about each other when you’re sober and has you showing it more in the way you look at each other, has you both giggly.

“Michael, look! Let’s take photos!” You point to it, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm and pays on the side of the machine before literally folding himself in the photobooth with you. “Okay, so what poses do you want?” 

“Just whatever,” you giggle. 

“Just whatever?”

“Yeah, whatever we happen to be doing when it takes. Look at the camera Michael!” You pull at his shirt to get him in frame with you. 

Once you’re done you leave the booth and wait for the strips to print, he’d gotten two, one for each of you. You grab them and then spot a bench and walk over to sit on it while you look at them, Robby right behind you.

You get five photos. The first is both of you looking at the camera, the second Robby looking at you, the third you looking at Robby, the fourth you kissing and the fifth you looking at each other. You both look drunk on love and each other in every single one. Your feelings for each other are nearly palpable just through the photo paper. You look like you’ve been together for years, not a couple days shy of four months. 

“Aw, they’re so cute! It’s perfect! I’m hanging mine right in the center of my fridge.” You hand Robby his copy and watch his face light up as he looks at each photo. “What’re you going to do with yours?”

“Keep it in my wallet.” He winks at you. 

“That’s very, very sweet, Michael. Very old school. I like it.” You lean into him and kiss his cheek. “I want you to know that I was going to tease you very dirtily right then, but I controlled myself.” 

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “what were you going to say?”

“You said ‘keep it in my wallet’ and winked at me and I immediately thought, oh so jacking off in the on-call room is okay, but sex in the on-call room is where you draw the line,” you giggle, very pleased with yourself. 

He chuckles and shakes his head at you. “That is not why I’m going to keep it in my wallet, nor is it why I winked at you.” You look at him with feigned disbelief. “I just like the idea of having a photo of you in my wallet and this fits in the billfold and I winked because I knew you were going to make some comment including the word old.”

“Well shit,” you let out a long breath. “I’m getting predictable.”

“Believe me, Kid, predictable is one of the last ways I would describe you,” Robby laughs. “You have no idea just how on my toes you keep me.”

You lean in close to him. “Yeah, but you love it,” you breathe against his lips. You smirk as you pull away and stand up, ready to head back into the arcade. “Keeps you young.” You wink at him. 

It takes about five days for the anterograde amnesia to go away. The longest five days of your life. Robby had eventually written everything down on a little notecard for you to read when you forgot what happened and why you were in the hospital. He didn’t mind telling you, at all, but he could see how much you hated having to ask. All sorts of therapies start that week. Speech, physical, occupational. You get moved out of the neuro-ICU to just neuro. More scans are done, a recovery plan drawn up. 

Now at least you can remember the plan and why you’re in the hospital and why you’re doing all these different therapies. You’re still struggling with some words, have trouble pronouncing them or getting them out. You haven’t gotten to relearning to walk yet, you’re still bed bound for the most part. 

Robby is there with you for all of it and sometimes you can’t decide if you like that or not. It’s not about him but about how all of this makes you feel and how having him see you like this makes you feel. Because it’s nice having your boyfriend help you with various exercises, nice to have him being the one moving your legs and arms and helping you stretch, to know he cares enough to be involved. But it’s also embarrassing, having him see you like this, having to watch him do it and know that he knows how weak you are, how much you can’t do for yourself, how much you’ve lost. You know that’s just you and how you feel and that Robby doesn’t care, that he wants to be here doing this all with you and thinks you’re strong for it all. 

Now that it’s been a day and a half since you started forming new memories and he’s convinced the anterograde amnesia has resolved, Robby knows it’s time. Your retrograde amnesia hasn’t resolved much, you still can’t remember much past walking away from him when you left pedes. So he has to tell you about the supply closet now, no matter how much he doesn’t want to. No matter how terrified he is. 

He’s not sure what he’s going to do if you kick him out, if you never want to see or speak to him again. He knows it won’t be that simple, that it’s not going to be a black and white thing where you’re either okay or you’re done. But it wouldn’t surprise him if you wanted space from him. Robby hates himself for it but he would struggle to give it to you. You don’t realize it but you’re part of what’s holding him together right now. Yes, therapy is helping him, but having you in his life, both in general and to focus on your recovery, is helping him keep it together and not spin out. You’re his reason to hold on and stay grounded and here. You give him purpose. 

“I really hate this,” you mutter as you keep repeating the physical therapy exercises they’d given you to help you with moving your arms. You can move them normally for the most part but it’s hard and they’re weak and sometimes it’s not quite completely normal at all and occasionally you just can’t. Everything about you is a work in progress right now. You hate that too.  

“I know, I’m sorry. You should take a break though, the line between pushing yourself productively and exhausting yourself so that it’s ultimately unproductive is fine.” He looks at you over the top of his glasses from where he’s sitting and reading in his chair. 

You roll your eyes playfully even though it hurts a little. “I think you just want me to be done so that you can come get in bed and have cuddles.” You give him an impish grin. 

He smiles and shakes his head at you, takes off his glasses and sets his paper aside. He’s not ready to lose this. The relative normality of your relationship. Your happiness and affection. Robby realizes he’s not ready to break your heart. Again. To have to spell out for you how he did the first time.

You stop your exercises, focus on moving yourself over in bed but Robby stops you. “Not quite yet, okay? I have something I need to tell you first.”

You furrow your eyebrows together and cock your head at him. You can already feel the panic rising. “What’s wrong?” 

As he moves his chair closer to your bedside again your mind whirls through what it is he could need to to tell you. Maybe he’s done with this. With you. With how much work you are right now. It would make sense, you’d understand it. It has pretty much taken up most of his life and it’s not like he’s getting much back from you right now. You try to be there for him emotionally, try to listen when he needs to talk. 

But he hasn’t been talking a tremendous amount about how he’s doing and how this is making him feel. And you’re sure in part he feels like he can’t because he thinks it’ll add stress to you and in part when is he supposed to talk to you? You’re in physical and speech and occupational  therapy for large portions of the day and still get tired pretty easily so you’re frequently napping after. 

And on the physical side you have very little to offer him other than kisses and cuddling in bed. You know he doesn’t give a shit about that side of things and that he’d never leave you because you couldn’t do much physically, but it still crosses your mind. 

Robby sits down and looks at you. The look of concern and rising panic on your face is what gives him the ability to just jump right into telling you. “After pedes, and after the MCI was over, Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay. He threw me being on the floor in pedes in my face. I… I assumed it was you who had told him. So I found you and dragged you into the supply closet and I,” he shakes his head, looks away from you even though he knows he shouldn’t. “I was awful to you. Truly fucking awful. And I regret it constantly.” Robby pauses. “Is this bringing back anything for you?” 

“No,” you whisper, still looking at him even if he won’t look at you. 

“Okay, I just wanted to check.” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. This is going to be the hardest part. Telling you what he did. Having to confront it for himself even though he spends a significant portion of each day thinking about it. It’s different having to tell you. 

“I said I couldn’t fucking believe you and asked how you could betray me like that. By gossiping about me. I told you that there were a lot of people I’d expect to gossip about it or could see doing so but never did I think you would.” Robby finally looks up at you. “You had no fucking idea what I was talking about because you didn’t gossip. You didn’t tell anyone. And I yelled at you about that, about you pretending to not know what I was talking about because I was convinced you did know, that you had done it. I told you that you were trying to be the victim. I finally said I’d spell it out for you and told you that I knew you told Langdon or someone about what happened in pedes. You tried to speak and tell me that you knew I wasn’t going to believe you but that you didn’t talk to anyone about pedes and never would.”

“I wouldn’t.” You’re still whispering but it’s emphatic, almost pleading. Because as much as it’s hurting you to hear all of this you still want him to know. Need him to. 

“I know. I knew.” He nods his head. This next part is going to hurt. You can tell by the way he pulls away from you, like he needs distance to cushion the pain he’s about to inflict, on you and himself. “I cut you off and asked how else Langdon would’ve known.” He swallows thickly. “And then I broke up with you.” 

“What?” It’s whispered so quietly he barely hears the question. Your tears are spilling down your face the second they hit your eyes. You hadn’t been holding hands but you pull your hand away from the side of the bed he’s sitting by. This isn’t what you expected him to need to talk to you about. You could never have fathomed it, you’re not sure you can. Part of you wonders if you’re dreaming or maybe hallucinating, part of you hopes for either of those. But you know neither is true. It gets hard to breathe. 

Robby nods at you, looks like he’s at war with himself, chin trembling and eyes full of self-loathing. A few tears slip down his face and he sniffles hard. “I told you we were done because I’d never be able to trust you again. I said that we had waited all this time, that I had waited all this time and you threw it all away before we hit six months. I asked why, told you I didn’t understand.” 

You let out a small sob and the sound kills Robby. He hates it when you cry. It’s even worse when it’s because of him. You try to keep it together but you can’t, the thought of him breaking up with you and not being here too much for you to compartmentalize and keep inside.

“And then I finally let you talk. And you were so you about it,” he laughs out a small sob. “You were so much more than I deserved in that moment, treated me far better than I deserved. You said you knew I wasn’t interested in listening to you but that you didn’t and would never tell anyone about pedes. You told me you loved me and that you hadn’t told me because you felt like I wasn’t ready to hear it or say it or that maybe you misread things and I didn’t or don’t love you.” He shakes his head because it was and is so untrue. He did and does love you, you hadn’t misread anything.

“You said you were proud of me for pulling it together in pedes and that one day you hoped I’d find out you were telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone.” Robby swallows down a sob. “And then you said you loved me. Past tense. That you were proud of me and I should be proud of myself through all my hurt. You ended with Michael, by saying my name. But I didn’t take anything in. I just told you no. That you weren’t allowed to call me Michael or even Robby. That I was Dr. Robinavitch to you. And then I left you in the supply closet. You ended up leaving the hospital and you called me, as you were walking home. And I didn’t answer. Deliberately. And if I had maybe none of this would’ve happened.” 

You feel sick, have to look away, not because of what he just said, because of all of it. You don’t blame him for what happened, even if he didn’t answer your calls. It’s a lot to hear at once. He broke up with you. What does that even mean for right now? You don’t even remember. He could have just not told you but he did and even in your haze that sticks out to you. 

When you pull your eyes from his and don’t say anything Robby continues. “I didn’t bring it up while you were still struggling with the anterograde amnesia because I didn’t want you to have to experience whatever emotions this brings up more than once. I didn’t want to keep putting you through that. Genuinely. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you.” He wants to reach out and take your hand, squeeze it reassuringly but he knows you don’t want that right now. “I’m telling you now that you can remember because not telling you felt like a lie, and I just thought you needed to know. So that you could decide what you wanted to do, if you want me to stay or go, how this changes things, if it does.” 

You’re quiet for a moment as you fight through all of your thoughts and then shake your head slowly. “I don’t know,” you say softly and shake your head. Because you don’t. You don’t know what to say or think or do. You’re not super sure what exactly your brain is even doing with all this information at the moment. It feels like it’s just there.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. How much I hate myself for it. For all of it. For speaking to you how I did, for what I said, for not listening to you and for thinking you would betray me. There’s no excuse. Not a single one. It doesn’t matter how bad the day was and where I was at mentally. I am so sorry, Kid. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you and earning back your trust.” Robby can’t bring himself to offer to leave if that’s what you need, to say that he’d understand if you needed him to go. He would. But he doesn’t want his suggestion to prompt you into asking him to leave or kicking him out because he’s not sure he’d survive having to leave you.

You’re quiet as you try to process or do something with everything Robby’s just told you. You bring your hand to your face slowly and wipe some tears away as you try to get rid of some of the big hiccuped breaths that slip out. 

You finally look back at him. “So we weren’t even… a couple? When this happened?”

“No,” he shakes his head and sniffles, “not technically.” 

“But we are one now?” 

“I,” Robby pauses. He’s not sure if he knows. In his mind you are. But he knows that for the last week he was able to just kind of pretend the supply closet breakup didn’t happen. That’s not true anymore and he doesn’t know where that leaves the two of you. Because right now you’re you before it happened. And so he doesn’t know what happens to the you he broke up with who believed you were broken up. He doesn’t know what happens to that conversation, if it still exists in a sense. If it still happened between the two of you. It’s so intangible and hard to wrap his non-injured brain around so he can just imagine what it’s like for you. And on top of it you can’t even remember. 

“I don’t know. I want us to be. In my mind we are. But I guess I don’t really know if we are. There’s a version of you in there who thinks we aren’t together. But she’s not here and so I don’t know how it works with you not remembering. I don’t know how it works now that I’ve told you.” He lets out a breath. “I guess it’s kind of up to you, Kid.”

“Oh, I…” You shake your head but grow quiet again, your tears having at least stopped. This entire conversation, everything Robby has told you, it’s all way the fuck too much for your brain right now. It’s hurting you. Emotionally, yes, obviously. But physically too. Your brain and head literally hurt as they search for where to even begin to try to make sense of and process this. It’s a scary feeling, not feeling like you can’t really control your mind. 

Your silence gets to Robby. He desperately needs to know how you’re feeling, where you’re at. If you still love him. He knows it’s selfish and that this isn’t about him and how he feels but he can’t help himself right now.

“Can I ask,” he breaks the silence, interrupts your spiral which you’re kind of grateful for. “Do you um, do you still love me? You went from love to loved when we were talking in the supply closet. So I was just wondering if you do.”

You nod slightly. “I… This is… Yes. I do. The me here with you now, of course I do. But I don’t remember, Michael. I’m sorry. I don’t know if the me you left in the supply closet… I don’t know if that me meant to say loved or if it was an accident. I don’t know.”

“But even knowing right now? You still do?” He looks shattered at even just the thought that you might not.

“Yeah. I love you, Michael. I do. The love I have for you, the way I love you, it doesn’t just go away like that, over one thing. And I don’t know for sure but, I’m me before the supply closet thing I guess and I don’t think that would have made me just abruptly stop loving you even after the supply closet. It doesn’t work like that.” You can see the relief ease some of the tension in his body and you’re glad for it. He’s too tense normally and you hate the thought of him being more tense because of you, even with what you just learned. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I love you too. I love you so fucking much, you have no idea. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry the way I treated you didn’t reflect that. Because I loved you then too, of course. I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry.”

“I know you are, and I accept your apology right now.” You look away from him for a second and let out a breath before returning your gaze to his. “But Michael I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how to feel really. I think I know how I should feel, but it’s hard to when I’m just hearing about it. I don’t remember how I felt or what exactly happened and what it was like and I don’t know what it means for us right now. It’s hard and it’s all hurting my brain right now, so can we just… not talk about it for now? I’m sorry. I know that’s unfair to you. I’m just getting really tired and feel like everything’s being pulled from under me a little. Do you want to go? Is that part of why you told me? To make me tell you to go?”

“God no. No. Absolutely fucking not. I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want you to tell me to go anywhere. The thought of that is terrifying. I would understand if you needed me to, but no,” he shakes his head in emphasis, “I don’t want to go anywhere. Ever. I never want to leave your side ever again. I want to be here with you, be your boyfriend and take care of you.”

You can’t deal with this anymore right now. With trying to sort out your thoughts and feelings about it all. It’s too much for your brain. You feel too alone even though Michael is right next to you. You just want him. To feel him and be with him and have it all be okay and for none of this to be happening. 

“Okay. Good.” You start to shift over in bed a little bit. “I just can’t right now, with this, it’s too much. Can you just get into bed please? I just want to rest on you, if that’s okay? I feel very alone with you in the room and I hate that feeling, so can we just… be together in bed right now?”

“Of course, Kid.” He’s quick to stand and push the chair back, help you move over in bed and climb in next to you. It’s like he’s worried you’re going to change your mind before he has the chance to hold you. 

The two of you settle into one of the positions you’ve found to work well. You rest your head on his chest and close your eyes, focus on the repetitive beat of his heart, the way his warmth seeps into you wherever you’re touching, how his scent overwhelms you, how his hand feels rubbing up and down your back, how he kisses the top of your head over and over. How loved he makes you feel. 

“I love you Michael,” you whisper as you flirt heavily with sleep. 

Robby smiles to himself, gives the top of your head another kiss. “I love you too, Kid. Just rest now.”

You do. You rest on him a lot the next couple of days. Eventually you find some words and the two of you talk a little more about what happened. It’s hard to figure out, to decide what you are or aren’t. It’s hard for you to figure out how to heal from what happened in the supply closet, both individually and as a couple, how to move on from it, and how to work through it together when you don’t remember it. How can you process or heal from or move on from or work through something you can’t remember? Robby telling you just isn’t the same. 

Even after you talk and say you’re together and going to work through what happened, it doesn’t quite feel real. The reality you both come to accept is that it’s extremely difficult to work on repairing and healing a relationship while basically living in a hospital. Everything is artificial. You’re together all the time. There is routine but not true normalcy. 

There are moments of happiness, yes, but it doesn’t seem to stay. There are moments where things really do feel like they used to, where they feel like how things were before any of this. There are moments where it gets close to that feeling and seems like you’re working your way back there, like you’re healing. And there are moments where you just feel like two people who used to be together sitting in a room and awkwardness infests the silence in a way it hasn’t between the two of you ever before.

It’s like there’s something between the two of you preventing you from really feeling like you’re together and it’s hard to know what exactly it is. If it’s what happened in the supply closet or if it’s because you’re at a hospital and so you’re relationship is almost stunted in a way, you can’t be a totally normal couple here, there’s no privacy, you can’t go on dates, you’re still recovering, or if it’s something totally unrelated, or if it’s you struggling with how to do anything about something you don’t remember, or if it’s the depression that’s starting to settle in you. 

Because settle it does. 

Nobody is surprised when it seems to blanket you almost overnight. In the beginning, once you got over how you looked physically and accepted your injury and your new reality, you had been happy to see people and chat and have visitors. It made you feel good, made things seem a little better getting to laugh and smile with people. And then pretty much overnight that stopped. And now it doesn’t anymore. Now almost nothing makes you feel good anymore. You just exist. Spend your days counting down the minutes until you can go back to sleep. 

You pull away and revert into yourself, block nearly everyone out. Absolutely no visitors with the exceptions of Robby, Jack and Dana. You don’t want to see anyone. You don’t even let people in your room just to turn them away. Robby stops them at the door. You don’t respond to texts. You ask Robby not to tell anyone anything about you or where you are with your recovery, even if they ask. 

You let Dana and Jack visit, but that’s for Robby really because it’s not fair of you to cut him off from the world just because you want to cut yourself off from it, and you know he wouldn’t leave you to go talk with them elsewhere. So you let them visit. You don’t say much when they’re visiting, mostly you just let the three or two of them chat and look out your window or drift in and out of sleep. 

You don’t pull that far away from Robby in that you let him be around, still want him to be around. But you barely talk to him a lot of the time. You don’t react when something goes well in physical or occupational or speech therapy. He’s worried you’re going to slowly stop wanting to even do them. That you’re going to slide from this kind of sadness to apathy where you just don’t care what happens to you, don’t feel like working on anything. 

Robby hates it, you feeling like this and his inability to fix it. It’s hard to see you this depressed. But he’s going to stay with you through it. Your struggle with depression isn’t going to push him anywhere. He knows this is a part of your recovery.  

He knows there’s only so much you’re able to give him right now and for the most part he accepts that, is okay with it, doesn’t push you for more, something both of you know he’s learning and working on in his therapy. He takes whatever you’re able to give and holds onto it, holds on to each rare little smile he pulls from you, each time you reach out to hold his hand, each time you pat the bed for him to get in, each time you kiss him. Each time you tell him you love him. 

That type of depression is where you’re at about ten days after Robby told you about what happened in the supply closet. Your memory still hasn’t returned. You know that’s normal but you hate it. It’s difficult in general to cope with not being able to remember, but it’s made all the worse by knowing that your inability to remember is playing a role in the strain between you and Robby. You feel like if you could just remember what happened and how it made you feel then you’d be able to actually truly start to work through it and move on. But you can’t. You can’t remember. 

You’re having a very good day for you, physically and emotionally. You and Robby are cuddled together in your hospital bed together watching the TV show you started binging recently. You chat sometimes as you watch, even flirt with him a little and laugh. It doesn’t feel like that thing is there between you right now and while you both know it’s unlikely, you’re still praying you’ve finally turned some corner. Robby swears you’ve said more words to him all of today than you have all of the last ten days combined. He’s high on the sound of your voice and laugh. 

Both of you are particularly irritated when there’s a knock on your door. 

“No,” you say immediately as you pause the show. “Not unless it’s Jack or Dana.” 

“Alright, Kid. I’ll be right back.” He lingers for just a second and you know what he’s waiting for, waiting to see if you’ll offer. You tilt your head up at him and push your lips out. Robby’s face lights up as he leans down and steals a couple of kisses from you before getting out of bed and going to the door. 

“Sorry, not up for-” Robby cuts himself off when he gets the door open enough to see that it’s not someone either of you know. 

“Dr. Robinavitch? They said you’d be up here with her.” Robby nods and the guy introduces himself as the detective investigating your assault. “Can I speak with her?” 

“Um.” Robby rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I don’t think now is really a great time. Her memory of the assault hasn’t come back either, so I don’t know what she’d be able to tell you.”

The guy gives Robby a tight smile. “Well then she can tell me that herself.” 

Robby lets out a single dry laugh. “She’s not up for visitors right now.” 

“I’m not just a visitor. I’m the detective trying to find the person who assaulted her and put her in the hospital.” He cocks his head at Robby. “So why don’t you go ask her if she’ll entertain me for a few minutes.”

Robby senses it’s probably going to be easier and get the guy out quicker if you tell him you don’t remember yourself. “Wait here.”

You’re confused why it’s taking Robby so long to get rid of whoever it is. You have no idea who would try to be pushing their way in this hard. You raise your eyebrows when you see him and sit up a little so he can get back in bed. 

He shakes his head. “It’s the detective assigned to your assault. I told him you don’t remember anything but he doesn’t seem to care. I know you don’t want anyone in right now but it might be easier to get him to leave if you just tell him yourself that you don’t remember.”

“Fine,” you sigh, your irritation at the detective clear in your tone. 

Robby nods and walks back over to the door and opens it. “Come in.”

“I don’t remember anything related to the assault,” you tell the detective as he walks in before he can even open his mouth to introduce himself. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” 

He introduces himself anyway. “Even the smallest detail could help.”

“I’m sorry, but I promise you I can’t remember any of it. My memory stops several hours before the assault. I don’t remember.” You shrug at him. You were irritated the second the guy knocked but that irritation is growing exponentially with each passing second because you can tell he doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings or your need for this conversation to be over. 

“Do you remember what they were wearing? The color? If it was a jacket or a hoodie?” the detective presses. 

“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t remember anything. I had to ask what even happened to me because I don’t remember any of it. Nothing about it exists in my mind, I can’t picture it or anything. I’d like you to go, please.”

“Well, now, just wait a second, maybe it’ll come back. Anything shoe wise? Boots? Tennis shoes?” He steps closer to your bed and Robby moves in a little closer in turn, between you and the detective because Robby’s already done with how the guy is treating you. 

“I don’t remember. There is just a void where the memory of it should be. I get it. It’s frustrating. Believe me, I get it. I’d like my memory to come back too.” You’re starting to hit anger levels of irritation. “I’ve been waiting for it to come back for over two weeks now. You being here isn’t going to make it come back. You’ve done your job and asked. I’m telling you I don’t remember. So please leave.”

“She doesn’t remember. She had a very traumatic brain injury, okay? Retrograde amnesia is common.” Robby holds an arm out in front of the detective and motions to the door. “She’s asked you to leave, so please respect her and go.” 

He doesn’t. “Anything. Anything at all, the direction the assailant came at you from, skin color, were they wearing a ski mask-”

Something in you breaks when he won’t leave and keeps asking you questions. Something that feels like it’s going to take a while to heal. 

“No,” you cut him off. “See now I’m fucking done. I’ve been trying to be polite and nice. But I’m fucking done. I get that you have a job to do and I appreciate you trying to find whoever did this to me, but you still need to respect me. I’ve asked you to leave. I was having a great day for the first time in too long and you’ve ruined it,” you snap at him. Robby hasn’t seen you this angry and irritated in a long time and something about the way it’s settled in your face and body makes his stomach sink.

“I have run out of ways to tell you that I don’t fucking remember. I have no idea how else to phrase it or communicate it to you. I don’t know how to make you understand it, it’s not a difficult concept. I do not remember anything about what happened. You sitting here repeating the question and asking if I remember specific little things is simply not going to change the fact that I don’t fucking remember. Any of it. As I’ve said what feels like seven thousand times in this conversation,” you seethe. “So get the fuck out of my room and don’t come back. Leave your card and if and when I remember something I’ll make sure you’re the first person I call.”

“I don’t know, Jack. I think she’s the one.” Robby can’t fight off the small smile that forms on his face at the thought of you.

The two are out having a couple of drinks together at a bar not far from work, Robby just getting off and Jack not on tonight. They’re watching the game on TV and chatting about whatever comes up. Jack is unsurprised when the conversation turns to you.

Jack finishes taking a sip of his beer and sets the bottle back down on the bar top. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, man. I can’t imagine life without her.” Robby shrugs and looks at Jack. “I know it’s crazy because we haven’t said I love you yet, but I just feel it. Like she’s it. She’s the one.”

“No, I get it.” The smile Jack gives him is a little wistful. “When you know, you know.” 

Robby grimaces. “I’m sorry-”

“Hey, no. Don’t be.” He gives Robby a seriously look. “I’m happy for you. I want you to be happy.”

Robby nods, smile creeping back up. “I am.”

“I know.” Jack smirks. “Everyone knows.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, everyone knows you’re down real bad Robinavitch,” Jack laughs teasingly.

“Shut up.” Robby rolls his eyes but knows Jack is telling the truth. He knows he can’t hide how he feels about you. From anyone. “I see a future with her. I want to marry her one day. Maybe get a townhouse or a house, something with a yard. Maybe have a kid.”

Jack’s eyebrows raise. “Wow, I’ve never heard that from you before.” He takes another sip of his beer. “You thought about telling her that you love her?”

“Of course,” Robby sighs. “All the fucking time. It’s just scary, honestly. And it never feels perfect.”

Jack clicks his tongue at Robby. “It’ll never be perfect.”

“I know, yeah.” Robby looks up at the TV. “Just what if she doesn’t say it back? What if it freaks her out and is too much too soon?”

Jack breathes a small laugh through his nose. “Well, I can’t promise you that she’ll say it back, but seeing the two of you together, I’d be pretty fucking floored if she didn’t. And I think the absolute last fucking thing you telling her is going to do is freak her out or be too much too soon. She’s down just as bad, Michael.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Listen.” Jack waits for a second for Robby to look at him and tilts his head and leans in just a touch. “Just, tell her before you can’t anymore, yeah? Tell her all the time. Don’t wake up one day regretting not telling her enough. And I know it’s scary and it’s hard and it’s easy for me to say and a whole different thing to actually do. But try. It’ll be worth it to hear it back from her and have her know exactly how you feel.”

“Yeah. I will. Soon.” Robby takes a drink of his beer and looks at Jack. “I will soon.”  

A few days later you and Dana have a similar conversation. 

“So,” Dana drawls, ducking into the room where you’re suturing an inebriated unconscious patient, “how are things with Robby?”

“They’re good.” You smile at her. You can hear how syrupy your voice is. She gives you a knowing smile in return. “I think he might be the one Dana.”

“Yeah?”

You bite your lip and nod at her. “He’s just always there, you know? Like when I think about the future, future plans, he’s always there with me. Ten years down the road, fifteen. I see a house and marriage and maybe kids. And I know we haven’t said I love you yet, but I know I love him, and I’m pretty sure he loves me. Even if he doesn’t say it, I can feel it. In how he treats me and the things he does for me.”

“I knew my husband was the one before we said the l word too. Sometimes it just takes longer to say it.” She raises her eyebrows at you. “But when are you gonna tell him?”

You shrug as you tie off your knot. “I don’t know. I haven’t because I don’t want it to be too soon for him and have him freak out or pull away. Especially now with the anniversary in two days and him working on it. Sometimes I feel like he’s the kind of guy who needs to say it first, but I can’t decide if that’s true or an excuse I’m creating.”

“Well, it’s good you can recognize that might be what it is,” Dana laughs. “You didn’t ask for advice but the advice I’m going to give you anyway is that if you keep waiting for the perfect moment to tell him, you’ll never end up telling him. Because no moment will ever seem perfect enough. And he’s going to end up falling into that same trap of waiting.”

“I know,” you sigh. You glance up at her in between stitches. “I just don’t want to lose him.” 

“You won’t, Hon. You make him happy. He’s crazy about you. Has been for a long time.” Dana smirks before growing more serious. “I’ve known Robby for a long time. I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when he’s with you. And it’s not just when he’s with you. He’s happier in general.”

You finish cutting your last suture and look up at her. “Good. He deserves to be happy.”

“And who are we chatting about today ladies?” Robby smirks as he walks in the room. He seems very proud of himself for discovering the two of you talking.  

You exchange an amused look with Dana before looking at your boyfriend. “You.” 

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “You’re so funny.” Neither your nor Dana’s facial expressions change and he realizes you meant it. “What about me?” He asks with mock upset. 

You shake your head at him. “We were just talking about the future. Naturally you came up.”

“Naturally?” The smirk pulls back on his face. 

“I’m out.” Dana holds up her hands and walks out of the room. 

Robby steps closer to you as you stand up. “Naturally? What does ‘naturally’ mean?”

“It means we can talk about it tonight at home.” You smile saccharinely at him as you take your gloves off and throw them away. 

He shakes his head. “No, no. I want to hear about the future and me naturally coming up now.” 

“We don’t always get what we want.” You tilt your head at him.

“I know,” he nods. “For example, you don’t want to talk about this until we get home tonight, but you’re not going to get what you want because we’re going to talk about it now.” 

You scoff though there’s nothing really behind it. You hate how attractive the self-satisfied grin he’s wearing is and how it makes you want to jump him, except you don’t hate it at all. But if he really wants to play this game then you’re happy to. “Fine. She asked how things were going with you and I told her that when I thought about the future you’re always there with me and that I even see rings on fingers and sometimes I see a couple little mini-Michaels running around the house we buy together, okay?”

It makes him glitch out and go still and silent for a second like you figured it would and you smirk as you walk out the door and start to quickly make your way to the hub to find a patient to get involved with so he can’t pull you away. 

Rings? Robby thinks to himself. Mini-Michaels. Plural. A couple. More than one. Marriage. Kids. You see that with him. A huge smile pulls onto his face because he sees it with you but has always wondered if you saw it with him. Because he’s older and insecure about it and whether you’d really consider having kids with him because of that and if you wouldn’t would that end up being a deal-breaker. 

Robby turns and walks out of the room. “Hey!” he calls after you as he watches you giggle to yourself and damn near fucking scamper to the hub when you hear his voice.

“Hey, Javadi and McKay are with a patient in central 2 looking to present if you’re free,” Dana greets you as you walk up to the hub. 

“Oh,” you smirk to yourself and nod, “I am so free and available for them right now.” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Robby gets to you just before you can get away. His hand wraps loosely but just tightly enough to remind you he’s your boyfriend around your upper arm and he pulls you to the side and then releases you. “You do not just get to drop that and run.” He shakes his head at you. 

You see McKay pop her head out of the room and look at Dana who points at you. You wave at her. “I’ll be right there!” 

“No you-”

“Yes, I will Dr. Robinavitch. Dr. McKay needs to present so that her patient can get the care they need. And she can present to me. That’s just one of those things I get to do,” you emphasize the word with a smirk and a slight bob of your head at him, “now that I’m an attending. So, our conversation will naturally have to wait.” You get to give him your own self-satisfied grin now as you walk off to central 2. 

The rest of the shift is busy. A rough busy. You and Robby barely see each other until you’re gathering your stuff to leave. You’re both quiet as you walk home holding hands. You’re not upset with each other or anything, you’re both just using the time to decompress a little. 

“You know,” Robby says as the two of you walk into his bedroom, “today was the closest I’ve gotten to hauling you into the on-call room and fucking you on shift.” 

You stop walking at his words and he nearly runs into you. “No, I did not know that. Why didn’t you?”

He steps in front of you and turns your hips, walks you backwards until you’re pressed against the wall, cages you in a little. He smirks at you. “I needed you to be able to walk to finish your shift.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, mostly just a breath out, “you are talking an awfully big game right now, Michael.” 

His eyes sparkle as he nods. But he gets a bit more serious, almost a little shy or nervous. “Were you serious earlier? About marriage and kids and a house with me?”

Now you’re the shy one, but just like his, your eyes still sparkle. “Yeah. None of those are a dealbreaker for me, though. If you don’t want any of them. I see those things, or I can see those things with you, I want those things with you if you want them. Because really it’s just you. Whenever I think about my future, however many years down the road, you’re always with me, right there by my side.”

Robby beams at you and nods.“That’s funny because whenever I think about my future, however many years down the road, you’re always right there by my side. I’ve talked to Jack about it before.”

“Really?” you whisper, a huge smile of your own pulling onto your face.

“Mhm.” He nods. 

“Would you want any of that?” You’re a little breathless at the thought. And at Robby and how handsome he looks right now smiling at you like you’re perfect and the living embodiment of everything he could ever need and then some. “Buying a house together or marriage or kids?”

“I want all of that with you. None are a dealbreaker for me either, but I want all of that with you. I want everything with you, Kid.” He pauses and tilts his head. “Though if we have babies, I’d like there to be a bunch of mini-yous running around our house as opposed to a bunch of mini-mes.” 

You bite your lip and shake your head, watch Michael’s eyes blow a little more. “Nah, I want mini-Michaels.”

“Well, seeing as we can’t really control that, we’ll just have to see what happens.” Robby leans down and closer to you. “But I do want that with you. To marry you and buy a house and have some kids. I want that a lot.”

You nod. “I want that a lot too.” 

“Good,” he murmurs before leaning in and kissing you. 

He’s teasing about it, taking his time devouring you and leaving your hips canting against his before he pulls away and smirks at you, walks over towards the dresser. 

“And just so you know,” Robby says as he pulls his scrub top and under shirt off and looks at you. “It was the thought of fucking a baby into you, my wife, in our house that nearly had you getting fucked in the on-call room today.”

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, pulling off your own top. “You hiding a breeding kink from me Dr. Robinavitch?”

“Maybe.” Robby takes off his cargo pants and steps closer to you. Like he knew they would, your eyes drop down and you lick your lips when you see how hard he is under his boxer briefs. “You want to find out right now?”

You nod as you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. “Maybe I do.” Like Robby you take off your scrub pants but leave your underwear on and take a few steps closer to him. “And maybe you better put your money where your mouth is and I better not be able to walk after, Michael.” 

You’re different after speaking with that detective. The depression remains, the apathy and sadness and numbness are still there but anger and irritability start to take over. At first it seems to be more of a dynamic situation. One where you wake up every day not knowing how you’re going to feel. One where Robby wakes up every day and has no idea what you’re going to be like. That fact just feeds into the depression because it makes you hate yourself, hate the way Robby’s damn near walking on eggshells around you at times because he doesn’t know what you’re going to be like today.

He reacts by getting a little clingier, trying harder to be there for you, trying harder to anticipate your every need. You love him and you truly do appreciate all he’s doing but with each passing day you’re settling more into irritation and anger and his constant hovering and touching and offering you things and doing things for you starts to get suffocating. 

You’re both aware that speaking to the detective is what really set off your shift into the irritability and anger side of your depression and there’s a part of you who holds it against Robby. Because he was the one who didn’t just tell the guy no for however long it took to get him to leave. He was the one who told you it would just be easier if you spoke to the guy. And if you hadn’t spoken to him it’s likely you wouldn’t be this angry and irritable.

Your resentment about that slowly becomes some resentment about everything and he starts to agitate you more and more. You know it’s not him and it’s the depression so you fight it off hard for a while, but it’s fucking exhausting and eventually you’re not able to as much. You start to snap at him. Especially when it starts to feel like he’s here doing all these things for you and hovering and smothering you because he’s trying to make what he did in the supply closet all better just by being here for you. Like if he helps you get through this all will be forgiven and it’ll just be like the supply closet thing never happened. 

You don’t kick him out or tell him to leave. You let him be here with you. Let him do whatever he wants and thinks helps you even when it doesn’t. Because the few times you’ve gotten snappy and told him to stop and that he wasn’t helping and needed to stop hovering he looked like a kicked puppy with those big brown wide eyes and you immediately hated yourself. So you keep trying to bury your feelings down when you know you shouldn’t be. You know if you talked to him kindly about it then he’d probably adjust and things would be better but you’re constantly too irritated to want to engage in any prolonged conversation with him, or anyone else for that matter. 

Robby can feel it, despite how much you try to hide it. He can feel how irritated and annoyed he makes you. But he doesn’t know what to do about it, doesn’t know what you want from him. And so again, as you slip further into irritation and anger he holds on tighter, clings more, because he’s so afraid of losing you. The colder and more off with him you grow the more he does to show his worth and that he loves you and just wants to help you. It’s a never ending cycle for the two of you. 

It kills him inside knowing he upsets you. He slips into a depression of his own. He keeps going to therapy but it’s hard to make much progress right now. Once you woke up, being here with you all the time and helping you and doting on you, let him ignore everything else that happened on the day of the PittFest MCI. But it gets harder not to think about, to ignore all of the guilt weighing on him, when you really start to pull away from him and the two of you spend most of the time you’re not in some form of therapy in complete silence with you not even looking in his direction, sometimes turning in bed so that your back is to him. 

He hates himself. For all of it. Every single thing. Adamson. Langdon. Leah. You. All the people he either killed or failed or both.

The more angry and irritable with him you get, the more he feels like him being here isn’t actually helping you, the more he thinks he should just go. That you’d be better off without him. That the world would be. That it would be the kind thing to do to kill himself. That it would actually help you. That then neither you nor he would have to continue to suffer.  

Physically, you have good days and bad ones. Generally it depends on how tired you are. And the more you swallow down your feelings the more tired you are. The depression sucks all of the energy out of you too. You still have all kinds of therapy, but you start to stall out in terms of progress because of how tired you are. It makes it difficult for your body to maintain where it has recovered to, let alone make gains. 

They won’t let you go to a rehabilitation facility and be out of the hospital because they’re slowly weaning you off the heavier anti-seizure medications and they’re concerned about a delayed CSF leak causing you to develop meningitis and they’re worried if you do end up seizing that you’ll have another brain bleed and don’t want you to be at a facility far away and get delayed treatment. You know those are all technically legitimate concerns, but you also know they’ve definitely discharged patients where you’re at in recovery to rehab facilities and that really they won’t let you leave because Robby is asking them not to because he’s scared of you not being in the hospital. You learn to let that one go because you’re not sure what difference it really makes at this point. A rehab facility wouldn’t be home. 

Your memory is slowly starting to come back and the more you remember taking care of patients and wrapping up the MCI after pedes the more you and Robby know that eventually you’re probably going to remember him breaking up with you in the supply closet and things are likely to change between the two of you. It’s unclear whether it’ll be for the better or worse, whether remembering will help you process and heal and move on or whether it’ll be too much and you’ll end up telling him you can’t forgive him for it and work through it with him. 

One day little flashes start to come through. Nothing that’s enough to really give you much insight as to what happened and how it made you feel. You don’t tell Robby it’s starting to come back. You worry it’ll make him somehow even clingier, though you’re not sure how that would be possible at this point. 

And then one day it does come back fully. You can see the whole thing from start to finish. You can feel all the feelings you felt then. In fairness to him, Robby had done a good job of explaining what happened and just how severely he spoke to you and yelled at you when he broke up with you in the supply closet. But nothing he said or could have said or any way he could’ve explained compares to the memory. Robby couldn’t remind you of how it made you feel in the moment, of how he looked at you.

It’s mid-afternoon and you’ve just finished some therapy and settled into bed when it really comes back. You let it play through in your mind a couple of times before looking at Robby for a couple of seconds. He catches you looking and raises his eyebrows in a silent ask of what you need. 

You don’t ask for anything, immediately turning yourself over so your back is to him. You can’t look at him. Tears start to stream down your face and you clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle some of the noise. You wouldn’t be able to handle him trying to get into bed with you right now. 

So you force yourself to cry quietly. Force the dry heaves down. He thought so little of you and that hurts. It hurts more than anything you’ve been through during all of this. He didn’t trust you, he thought you’d breach his trust that egregiously. He wouldn’t even listen. How could he? How could he so easily dispose of you and throw you away without even hearing you out? It was just over for him. You were nothing. 

The walls your mind starts to build up around it are built subconsciously. You’re far too tired already today to really deal with this. You can’t let yourself feel any of this. But then heartbreak doesn’t really work like that does it? You try as hard as you can to pull it together and put it in a box and shove it away but you can’t. The sadness is overwhelming. It’s like you’re drowning in it. 

You can’t even begin to try and think of how to forgive him. How to heal this massive wound he’s inflicted on your heart and soul. You don’t know what the two of you even are anymore. He’s here acting like he’s your boyfriend but he never asked you to take him back. There hasn’t been any real conversation. 

The sorrow settles into your bones. It feels like you’ll never love again. Like you could never possibly feel any kind of romantic love towards anyone but him and so you’re destined for a lifetime without it. And it feels like nobody will ever love you again. Not like he did. Or not like how you thought he did, because you’re not sure anymore. That he ever did. Not when he could throw you away so easily. 

“Kid?” Robby’s voice is gentle as he calls to you and gets out of the chair. He knows you’re crying. He can see it in the way your body shakes and how you curl in on yourself, can hear the sniffles you try to muffle. It breaks his heart. It’s the first time in a good while now that he’s seen you show some real emotion other than various forms of anger and irritation. He wants to hold you. He wants so badly to make it all better. “What’s wrong?”

You hear him growing closer, you know he’s going to try and get in bed behind you. So you automatically adjust yourself and spread out a little so that there’s no room for him to. So that he’d have to ask and you could make up an excuse and say no. 

“I’m fine,” you sniffle. 

“Please talk to me,” he whispers, his hand finding your side and rubbing up and down in what he incorrectly thinks is a soothing manner. 

“I’m just tired and am going to try and sleep,” you mumble, pulling the covers further up you. 

Robby wants to push you, get you to talk to him. But he doesn’t. He knows you don’t need that right now. “Okay,” he murmurs, walking back over to his chair.

Eventually you wake up. You say even less to Robby than usual the rest of the day. You don’t eat the dinner he gets you, just say you’re not hungry. Which is true because you’re far too nauseous to feel hungry right now. And then you go back to sleep for the night without him in bed with you. 

In the morning you don’t feel better but you’re at least rested and not as tired. You have some breakfast because you know you need your blood sugar to be okay. The rest and food will make it easier to control your emotions and you’re going to need to because you’re going to talk to Robby and do your best to set aside your anger and irritation and hurt and sadness for this conversation. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” Robby nods from his chair at the side of your bed. “What’s up?”

You let out a shaky breath. “More of my memory has come back. So, um, I remember now. The supply closet. You breaking up with me. It’s a little hazy in places still but, yeah.” You let out a long breath. “I remember it.” 

You do your best to keep your voice neutral, to keep any emotions from taking you over, to keep from crying. It’s almost worse for him in a way. He’d rather have you express emotion so he could know where you are with it.

Robby swallows thickly and nods. He’d been expecting this. Thought the last afternoon and night might be about it. “I wondered. But I didn’t want to push you or something by asking.”

You give him a strained smile. “I appreciate that.” 

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I know it doesn’t change anything or make it better, but I truly am sorry.” 

You nod. “I know Michael. I know you are. Trust me, I know. And I see how bad you feel and I don’t want you to hate yourself for this. I think we can get through it, I’m just not sure how right now. And I don’t know where exactly this leaves us.” You shrug. “But I don’t want to lose you and not be with you if you don’t want to lose me. I’m just telling you now that I’m struggling with it, now that I can remember, and I’m struggling with how to process it and where we even start and how we work through it and heal. My brain is still…you know?” 

Robby nods but stays quiet to see if there’s more you want to say, trying to be better at listening and hearing you. Trying to show you he’s not who he was that day in the supply closet. Trying not to push when you don’t want to be pushed.

“But it’s not just better, things aren’t repaired and fixed.” You know you’re repeating yourself a little. You just want to communicate all the thoughts your brain can put together so that Robby knows where you’re at with things, even though you don’t really know. You want him to know you don’t know. “So I don’t really know exactly where we are right now, what we are exactly. I’m just, we’re just going to kind of have to take it day by day and I know in a way that’s not fair to you, not fair for you to be here taking care of me and helping me but not knowing exactly what and where we are and maybe doing all of this for me just for us not to end up together.”

He’s shaking his head before you even finish speaking. “No. No, I don’t care about that for a second. I mean I do in the sense that I care about whether we’re together or not but not, I don’t think it’s unfair is what I mean, or even if it is, I don’t mind. Like even if we definitively weren’t together and you wanted or needed or even were just okay with me being here helping you I would be. Because I love you and I care about you and I always will. Even if we’re not together. I will always love you.” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know if that made sense or made things worse.” The way he seems so scared to get your reaction makes you sad. 

“I know what you mean.” You nod at him. “And I love you too, always will.” You give him a small smile.

Robby returns your small smile with a big one of his own. All he ever wants to do is make you laugh and smile. “Okay, good.” He lets out a breath. “I don’t want to lose you. That’s the last fucking thing I want. I thought I was going to and I…” He looks away from you for a second to pull it together. “I couldn’t handle it. So I’m going to try to follow your lead with this and meet you where you are with it and try and help us figure out a way to heal.” He looks down. “From me.”

“I appreciate that and think that will be very helpful.” You’re surprised at the course of this conversation. You were fully expecting Robby to push you and bombard you with questions or try to keep the conversation going and try to sit on the bed next to you and fluff your pillows so he’d feel like he was helping you. Because that’s what he’s been doing a lot as of late when you do talk casually about whatever. 

You know it’s probably because he’s desperate for you to talk to him and so once you start he doesn’t want the conversation, good or bad, to end. And that he likes to feel helpful and like he’s doing things that really help you and wants to show you he’s taking care of you. 

Your physical therapist knocks and comes in. Robby’s distracted during it, normally far more involved. You’re hopeful it’s a sign that he’s stepping back a little and not going to hover and be in your space and trying to do everything for you as much. 

But really he’s just thinking. About what you said. About how you don’t know what the two of you are. About how that conversation went far better than he thought it would. He expected your irritability and anger to come out hard because that’s where you seem to live lately. He was prepared to accept it, whatever it was you needed to say, however you needed to say it, as long as it helped you heal. If you needed to be mean and yell at him like he had done to you to heal from this and be able to move on and still be with him then he’d let you. He’s hoping your irritability and anger not showing themselves too much is a sign you’re not going to be living there anymore. 

Unfortunately neither of your hopes turn into reality. Things are just awkward over the next two days. Robby still hovers and is suffocating at times and you’re right back to irritability and anger as you try to deal with your broken heart and how to heal it. 

There’s a bit of a change, though. Your irritation and anger and depression in general manifest in extreme apathy. It builds slowly over those two awkward days after you and Robby talk, but by the third it’s almost total apathy. You stop pushing yourself during any of your therapies. Everyone can tell you’re mentally checked out the entire time and just doing whatever you’re told without any real thought. 

And over the next three days while you’re checked out and not pushing yourself and trying to figure out what to do about Robby a more complete apathy sets in. You stop doing your various therapies. Physical therapy comes and you say no. Speech therapy comes and you say no. Occupational therapy comes and you say no. 

You say no when Robby reminds you to do all your various exercises they leave you with. You say no thanks when he brings you food. You get irritated and are quick to snap at him if he tries to persuade you into doing things for too long. 

At first everyone agrees to let it go. Nobody is happy about it but you’ve been working very hard for a good chunk of time now and so they agree to let you have a couple of days of rest. Everyone that is except for you. 

Because once those couple of days pass, you’re still saying no. And Robby can’t take it anymore. 

“You need to do speech therapy.” He gives you a look. “You had a break. It’s time to get back to it all.”

“I don’t even need it anymore. My speech is fine. I very occasionally have trouble with some words but I probably did before this anyway.” You shrug at him. 

Robby shakes his head. “You know there are some words you consistently struggle with. They can help with that.”

“Why do you fucking care? What does it matter? Is it because I might embarrass you one day when I struggle with a word in front of someone? Just stop. I’m not doing it.” You let out an irritated sigh and shake your head at him. 

Robby lets out a slightly irritated sigh of his own that makes you bristle a little. Today is really not the day for him to do this with you. Your irritability is particularly bad, you’re tired and just want to sleep and be left alone.

“Alright, how about some physical therapy then? We don’t need to call them. I can help you.” You ignore him and make no effort to sit up so that you can do some exercises. “I’m just worried, Kid. I know it’s tiring and it’s hard but if you don’t keep up with it you’re going to lose everything you’ve worked for.”

“I didn’t realize I suddenly wasn’t a doctor anymore and didn’t know that,” you deadpan. 

“Kid,” he sighs again. 

“I know,” you huff, “I know and I’m still choosing to not do it. Not today. Let it go.” You take a deep breath to try and let out some of your irritation and tension because when it builds up you snap at him and you hate that, hate snapping at him.

“You have to,” he says simply, starting to walk closer to your bed. If you’re not going to do it when he asks nicely then he’s going to take a tough love approach because he can’t let you lay here and lose all of your progress and waste away in front of his eyes. 

“No I don’t.” 

“Yes.” He throws your blankets off you. “You do.” Robby adds to your rapidly growing irritation when he goes to grab at you to get you sitting up.

“Fucking stop, Michael.” You bat his hands away. “I really don’t. So please stop. I really can’t do this right now. You can try asking again in a bit.”

“You really do.” He’s unperturbed by you batting his hands away, continuing to try and get ahold of you enough to get you sitting up. 

“No. Stop. Michael, I’m so fucking serious right, stop touching me please. It’s too much. I need you to get out of my personal space right now.” You shove at his arms as best you can to try and get him to back off, the increasing tension and irritation clear in your voice. “I can’t do it, okay? And I’m not going to.” 

“No. You don’t want to.” He doesn’t mean for it to but it comes across like he’s scolding you to you. “You can and you are going to.” His hand manages to wrap around your upper arm and that’s it. You’re done.

You snap. 

“Oh my fucking god, Robby!” You half yell. He freezes instantly. “I need some space, I need you to go.” 

Robby doesn’t freeze because you half yelled. He freezes because you called him Robby. You haven’t called him that in years now. And it doesn’t even look like a fully conscious choice, more something that just slipped out and for some reason that panics him even more. He pulls his hand from you and takes a few steps back from your bed. 

“What?” he whispers.

You take a second to let out a breath and bring yourself back down. “I need some space, please Michael. I’m too overstimulated and irritated right now, I don’t care if you don’t understand why, you don’t need to. I just need some space. Please.”

“What is this really about? Because I know it’s only about me trying to get you to do exercises to an extent.” He shakes his head, mouth set. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop when you asked and tried to keep going and take the tough love route. That was wrong of me. I should’ve stopped as soon as you asked. But something else is driving this, this anger and irritation that you have, that gets so high you snap and now apparently makes you need to be alone. And I need you to talk to me. Like really talk to me honestly. So we can work things out and I can know what to do and not do.” 

You stay quiet, hoping he’ll take the hint and let the conversation go and give you the space you desperately need. Neither of you are at your best right now. Neither of you are perfect. And you don’t want to continue to hurt each other with this conversation.

“If this is about what happened that day in the supply closet you need to just say that so we can talk about it. Because we haven’t. Not really. Not since you remembered. We ignore it.” He shrugs at you. “We can’t keep ignoring it.”

“Michael,” you let out a long breath, “right now I just need some space, a little time to be alone. We should not have this conversation right now while we’re both this escalated. I don’t want to.”

“I’m not escalated. I’m just saying we can’t keep ignoring it.” The thought of this conversation ending and leaving you even just to give you some space terrifies him. 

You clench your jaw, give into the irritation and anger a little. 

“Fine, you want to talk about it now of all fucking times? Now when I’ve asked you to leave and give me some space because I’m overstimulated and irritated and too escalated? Fine. Whatever you want, Robby!” You scoff a laugh at him because it feels so fucking typical. His breath hitches because you’re back to calling him Robby. “I haven’t been ignoring it. Somedays it’s close to all I think about. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go and to forgive you and try and move on, and figure out how to do all of that. But I still don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” he asks. Doesn’t agree to stop the conversation. Just asks a follow up question. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should just give you the bit of space you’re asking for and not push you. 

“Anything! I don’t know how to do any of this and deal with it. I don’t know about us. Where and what we are. You broke my heart! You shattered my trust! You thought I’d just betray you. You didn’t, maybe don’t, trust me. So I don’t really know why you even want to be with me. And right now I am so physically fucked up everywhere and my brain is a mess. I just…” You let out a long breath and try to regain some semblance of composure but it’s getting increasingly difficult. 

“Honestly, you’re hovering, constantly, and suffocating me. I never get any fucking alone time. You schedule your therapy at the same time as one of mine so someone’s with me. You’re here with me all the time, and yes I appreciate it, and I love it and you so very much, I promise I do. Even when it feels like I don’t and when I’m irritated. I do. But it feels so much like you think that if you’re here and helping me through this and doing whatever I need and hovering and showing me you’re here for me then it’ll all be fine and work out like nothing happened and that’s just not true. So I just need some space right now in this moment. I’m getting overwhelmed and I just need to be alone. I really don’t want to continue this conversation. Now is not the time.” You shake your head at him.

“I am sorry, you know. I really am.” Robby wraps his arms around himself. “And I want to do whatever you need me to so that we can fix this and get through it. So please just tell me.”

He still won’t end the conversation. He’s still pushing you. Because Robby would rather be feeling your anger than feeling nothing from you. But it’s winding you up again, the way he won’t stop. And you know if you try and shut down he’ll just keep talking at you and hover near you which will be just as bad. 

“I know. I know you are. And I remember understanding in the moment. Understanding why you did it, how bad of a day it had been, how emotionally fried you were. I know what the day was but you were so ready to just throw me away. And I know you want to fix this. But I still don’t know what exactly I need from you. It is hard for me to be around you sometimes. I’ve never asked you to leave because I know how much it would hurt you. I know how bad it would be for you. But it’s hard to look at you. Because I look at you and all I can see is the man who thought so little of me that he wouldn’t even give me a chance to ask questions or explain and wouldn’t listen to me. It’s like I was nothing to you. And you’re always here and so I’m thinking about that a lot. I just…” 

You pause for a second. It’s getting harder to organize your thoughts and keep them on topic and not tangential and rambling. “Please. I’m not even asking you to leave, Robby. I’m asking for some space. For like an hour or so. You say you’ll do anything for me, then do this. Give me some space.”

Everything Robby’s learned at therapy is sliding right out the door during this conversation. He needs to walk away because you aren’t able to and you’re asking for space. And he knows that as calm as you’re trying to keep yourself and your voice, he’s winding you up every time he won’t do as you ask, won’t give you space. But he can’t stop. Eventually you guys will talk your way out of this, just like you always do. That’s what he tells himself. 

“You weren’t nothing to me.” He shakes his head, face screwing up in worry that you still think that. “You aren’t nothing to me. You’re everything, you always have been, even when I was being a full on piece of shit and horrible to you.”

You look away from him for a second before shaking your head to yourself and looking back at him. “You say that Robby but sometimes actions are so much louder than words.”

“And what about now?” He scoffs at you a little because what the fuck do you mean actions are louder than words. He’s here and trying so hard and that’s apparently nothing to you. All it does is make you pissed off with him. “What about all this, everything I’m doing now? You have to be able to see that you’re not nothing to me, that you’re everything, that I’d do fucking anything for you! I’ve stayed through it all, through the depression, through feeling like you don’t want me here, through you snapping at me and not talking to me and nearly ignoring me. I’m still here. I’m still here even when you make it difficult to be! And you’re telling me that counts for nothing?”

Robby can see you grow more upset and irate, can see it building up again. You tense further, your chest starts to heave just slightly, jaw grinding. Your eyes show it too, look at him sharper. 

“Oh,” you draw out your laugh of the word. “When I make it difficult to be here you push through and stay, okay. Don’t fucking act like you’re doing me some goddamned favor by staying and being here Robby! It shouldn’t be a fucking favor. It shouldn’t be something you lord over me. It should be you here because you love me and you want to be here and you don’t feel like you need recognition for being here because that’s just what people who love each other do. If you don’t want to be here, if I make it too fucking difficult, then fucking leave and don’t come back.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that and I don’t want to leave and not come back,” he starts to interject. But you keep going.

“And of course you being here and staying counts, for a lot, I never said it didn’t. I literally just fucking told you I appreciate you being here but that doesn’t change what happened. It doesn’t just magically fix what you broke!” You shake your head and shrug at him, let out a breath of a laugh. “How do I know this isn’t just some manifestation of you feeling guilty and responsible and like you have to fix me? How do I know it’s not the guilt that’s keeping you here? How do I know you don’t really want to still be broken up but feel so guilty that you’re here and pretending? Because you were fine with not having me until something happened to me that you blame yourself for.” 

“No! No. I was never fine with not having you, even when I still stupidly thought you had gossiped about it. I wasn’t fine. I was destroyed!” He shakes his head at you, takes a step forward because he needs you to believe him about this. “Do I feel guilty? Yes. I’m not going to lie to you or myself. Of course I feel guilty. If I had been there or if you had stayed at the hospital this wouldn’t have happened to you. But you’re not going to get better and then I’m going to be like oh yeah actually I don’t want to be with you and just fuck off and leave you. I’m fighting for you. For us. For that future we talked about. Marriage and a house and kids. Please let me fight for us. Please fight with me for us.” 

He knows you are fighting for the two of you, that you are everyday, and that you asking for space doesn’t mean you’re just giving up. It’s a healthy thing to do. He should respect it. He knows he’s making things worse by continuing the conversation. 

“Don’t.” The coil of anger and irritation Robby’s winding up in you is getting tighter and tighter. “Don’t act like I’m not. Don’t act like me asking for some space means I’m not fighting for us. I could’ve told you to get the fuck out the second you told me what happened or the second I remembered. Believe me there have been times the irritation and depression or the sheer hurt from what you did have overwhelmed me and I’ve wanted to make you leave. There still are those times. But I didn’t and I don’t make you leave. Because it would hurt you deeply and because I want to fix this and make it work. So I fight for us. I fight for us every fucking day. And me needing an hour of space doesn’t change that.” You stare at him intensely as you try to use the silence to drive it all home. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Robby rubs the back of his neck. He’s terrified. You can see it. His face is furrowed, lips pulled down and eyes wide and glassy and reflecting the anxiety and self-loathing you know he’s drowning in. “I can’t lose you.” 

He still won’t stop and give you what you need, what you’re begging him for and you’re a hair’s breadth away from reaching a point of no return.

“Staying doesn’t mean you won’t lose me, Robby! You really need to see that! The simple fact of you being here and trying to help me and supporting me doesn’t mean everything’s going to be okay.” You rub your face as you let out a long sigh and look at him pleadingly. “Please Robby, I’m literally begging you for some space right now. I really need it. I really need you to go because I don’t want to end up completely snapping at you and saying a bunch of shit I regret and damaging things further when I get totally overwhelmed and I’m headed there really fast. And I know you want to help. Right now what would help me is if you gave me some space.” 

“I think we should do couple’s therapy.” You nod at him, hoping that at this point in the conversation your silence will at the very least get him to be quiet. “I can start looking for someone and-” 

“Robby,” you interrupt him. But he speaks before you can say anything else.

“Please don’t call me that.” He shakes his head at it. “Why are you suddenly calling me that? What happened to Michael?” 

You let out a slow and shaky breath. “I really need space and this conversation to be over.” 

“But I love you. I want to work this out.” He’s pleading with you now just as much as you’ve been pleading with him. 

“I know. I know that. And I love you. I genuinely do, Michael. Unfortunately though, despite what many people say, sometimes love alone isn’t enough. I need you to respect me right now. I am asking you for space please. Just please give me some time to myself right now. An hour. Just an hour for right now. If we keep going I’m going to snap and say shit I regret, I really can’t take anymore, so please,” you’re begging him, “please give me some space.” 

You’ve hit the point and you know it. This conversation is either going to end and Robby is going to give you the space you need, or he’s going to try and continue the conversation and you’re going to lose it on him and end up hurting him. 

Robby is fully aware that he’s not going to get the answer he wants to the question he’s about to ask. It’s not going to make you calm down and slip into reassurance mode and end this argument or whatever this is. He knows it’s just him pushing you further and he tries to stop himself but it slips out anyway. 

“You don’t need me? To help you.” 

And that’s it for you. The way that question seems like it’s about you but is really about him. The way he kept pushing. You’re too tired and totally overstimulated and overwhelmed and he has just kept pushing and pushing you, kept winding you up and adding to your overwhelm and irritation and overstimulation. So you snap again. 

But you snap much, much harder this time. 

“God damn it Robby just get the fuck out, okay?” you seethe at him. You’re fucking livid. He has never seen you like this before. “Get out! I’m fucking done! Is that what you wanted? Me to totally snap and come unglued and say I’m done so you could get out of all this and not be to blame in your mind? Because congrats, you got me there! You fucking pushed me there! I’m done right now. Done. I asked for space and you can’t do it. You just had to keep fucking going. So yeah, now I am kicking you the fuck out!” 

You let out a shaky breath as tears of anger and frustration start to stream down your face. “You are making it so fucking hard right now to want to keep fucking fighting for us and I hate it. I hate it. I get you’re scared about losing me either physically or emotionally, but jesus fucking christ I just asked for some space Robby! But you still don’t trust me, you don’t trust me to take the space I need and not go anywhere! You don’t trust me to not just give up on us!” 

“I didn’t want to have to kick you out. I just wanted a little bit of fucking space. And you can’t give me it and you’re making this about you! Like you always do. Everything is about you! Do you even see it?” You throw your hands up at him and give him a look. “I asked not to have this conversation because I was too escalated and upset and exhausted and overwhelmed but no, you wanted to fucking have it so here we are. Both of us hurt and upset. Do you see that you not leaving is making this about you and what you need to quell your fears? To be here with me constantly. But it’s not about you and what you need!” 

“In the hospital right now, this shit is about me! I’m the one who has been relearning to walk and feed myself and everything fucking else. I’m the one who has problems speaking at times. I’m the one who can’t get her brain to think sometimes, who just forgets how to get her brain to do anything.” You wipe at your face. The tears of frustration and anger haven’t stopped. “You have no fucking idea what that’s like, what it’s like to feel like a toddler again in some ways, even with how far I’ve come. I’m the one who might never be able to practice medicine again, who might have my entire career ripped away from me as it was literally just fucking beginning.” 

“And you know what, actually, yeah.” You nod at him with a sardonic laugh. “To answer your question. I do. I do need you. I need your help with all of this, your support and your respect, but not on your terms. Not you doing what helps you. Not you doing what you think is helping me and supporting me and respecting me. On my terms.” You point at yourself. “On what is actually doing or will do those things for me. I need you but you have now stopped me from having you by not giving me some simple space when I asked. You’re my partner, or you were my partner, I guess. I don’t even know if you are anymore. You broke up with me. You told me to call you Dr. Rob-, Dr. Rob- fuck.” 

You let out an acerbic scoff at your inability to get out his name. It strikes you as exceedingly poetic in the moment. “You told me to call you by your title. The one I can’t even fucking say now so I guess it’s a good job you decide to let me call you something else. You broke my fucking heart Robby! You shot a fucking bullet right through my heart and that bullet tore through it, just like what happened to Leah!”

Neither of you breathe for a couple of seconds and the room is pin drop silent. Robby’s chin trembles and he tilts his head at you for a second in a look of total heartbreak before looking down as his tears start to fall. He can’t believe you just said that. That you went there. It’s pain on multiple levels. Pain because of what happened with and to Leah, because of what it did to Jake, because he should have been there instead of her, and because you just threw it in his face. 

You know how low of a blow that was. You know you could hardly go any lower than that. You know that you just broke his heart in a way. You hate yourself for saying it. But you are so overstimulated and angry and exhausted and irritated and just fucking done that it’s difficult to find it within you to care. So you go on, you don’t let up at all, don’t calm at all. You just keep going. 

“Sure mine wasn’t physical but it was emotional. You managed to do that with words, tear right through my heart with your words.” You sneer at him. “And it’s really fucking hard to figure it all out, Robby, how to do this and heal my heart and us. Especially with a very traumatic brain injury that’s not healed. We weren’t even fucking together when this happened, not to you! I don’t know what we are! I don’t know what I want!” 

“I am so far fucking beyond overwhelmed and overstimulated right now, Robby. You have made me that far beyond overwhelmed and overstimulated by not giving me the little bit of fucking space I asked for over and over again! You have gotten us here!” Your head is killing you and it’s getting substantially harder to form coherent thoughts that aren’t just essentially repetitions of things you’ve already said. 

“Everything hurts, thinking hurts. Being with you hurts! It hurts way the fuck too much. You need to leave me alone and go and not fucking be here because it’s too much! It’s too much and I can’t do this anymore. I cannot fucking do it. You need to fucking go,” you fully snarl at him. “And if you don’t I will call my nurse and have her get security. I can’t do this anymore, okay? So get the fuck out and don’t come back until I want and ask you to.” 

Robby’s still looking at the floor as he sniffles and nods. He’s not sure how he hasn’t thrown up already or started audibly sobbing. “Okay,” he whispers. He pushed you way too far and he knows it. And he might have permanently pushed you too far, might have destroyed everything because he was so terrified of losing you. Might have created a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

He grabs a couple of his things and his backpack as he makes his way to the door. He stops with hand on the door handle and looks back at you. “Are you ever going to want me to come back?” 

It’s a loaded question. He asked ‘are you ever going to want me to come back’ but what he really means is ‘are you ever going to want me back’ and both of you know it.

You look over at him, still just as livid as when you threw Leah in his face and told him to get the fuck out. Your voice is ice cold when you answer. 

“I don’t know.”

😶 I have very little to say for myself, but please do not hate me lol. I tried to make the vignettes fluffy for some balance. 😭 There will of course be a Part 3.

I hope it was okay and enjoyable! I really enjoy hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me so much motivation and inspiration!! Liking, replies and reblogging are always so so appreciated! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming (or (lovingly) screaming at me again)! 🙂♥️

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[writingsonsaturn]

hi! could you do something with Robby x diabetic reader. Maybe something where their blood sugar drops and Robby has to help them get it back up!

HR Violating Sweetness — Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x GN!Reader

Notes: Fun fact— diabetes runs in my family! I have no idea if it skipped me or not, but I sure as hell don't want to find out LMAOO

———

Being a charge nurse is no easy job. It's a grueling, heavy task, and as such, not for the faint of heart. You've always been good at prioritizing who needed earlier care than who, minimizing the amount of time wasted deciding what happens when, and directing your fellow nurses and medical assistants to getting the job done, all with the frightening efficacy of a drill sergeant. It's practically the perfect job for you.

Sometimes, though, your body disagreed. With all the stress it puts you under, you're bound to buckle every now and then, and you hate when that happens in front of others. It's kind of on you this time, though, because you'd been late for the first time in decades, and had rushed out of your home without taking your breakfast, blood sugar, nothing. You didn't even have your morning tea.

As such, it doesn't surprise you when two hours into the shift, you start feeling unwell. Your eyes refuse to cooperate and focus on the patient board, and just craning your head to look up at said board was making you feel all types of wrong. Without noticing, you lean back on the nurse's station counter, your breaths shallow and your gaze glassy.

Perlah does notice, though, because you're not leaning on the counter, you're leaning on her. “Woah, hey, you okay?” She asks you, her concern spiking immediately when you try to say something but end up muttering slurred gibberish in her general direction. Quickly, she gets to her feet, holding you up to support you and looking around frantically for the patient's food cart.

But it's busy as fuck today, there's so many people walking and buzzing about, and she can't see it anywhere. “Fuck, could I get some help over here?!” Perlah finally relents, knowing you were probably going to chew her out for it later but not particularly giving a damn at the moment, not when you're about to slip into hypoglycemic syncope.

It's not an uncommon sentence to be yelled out in the ER, but it's who it's coming from that makes Robby immediately drop everything and bound over to the nurse's station at an embarrassing speed. “I'm fine,” is the first thing you say when he swims into your vision, trying to shake your head but just making yourself more dizzy. “Just need something to eat.”

“You haven't eaten?” Robby inquires, his voice sounding far away but still clear enough for you to pick up on his incredulity. You go to say something, only for him to suddenly take something out of his pocket, hurriedly unwrapping it and shoving it into your hands. “Here, take this.”

You blink at it unfathomingly for a moment, because why does he just have that at the ready, but take it from him with shaky hands anyway. The moment you bite into the chocolate bar, you can feel your body rebalance itself, feel your feet become steadier on the ground and the strength seep back into your knees.

“You walk around with chocolate bars in your pockets?” You say, finally sounding a little more like yourself, and both Perlah and Robby sigh in relief. At the question, though, Perlah also turns to the attending, a knowing and teasing smile on her face as she watches him to see how he's going to answer.

Robby flushes slightly, his cheeks dusting a soft pink as he scratches at his beard and looks back at you with a sheepish grin. “They're for you,” he settles on revealing  because how the hell was he going to get out of this one? No lie would be believable. “Just in case.”

Your own face heats up in surprise at the words, before you suddenly adorn a shit-eating expression and laugh. “Aww, Robby,” you coo playfully, waving the chocolate bar between you two and winking. “If I'd known you were this sweet, I'd've just kissed you instead.”

And oh, the HR violation is so worth the way his entire head erupts into a violent shade of tomato red, you can practically see steam coming out of his ears to cool off. Perlah throws her head back and laughs, nudging you in the shoulder and turning away to go back to work. She's obviously trying to sneak away before you give her the aforementioned chewing out, but for the moment, you allow it.

[writingsonsaturn]

nobody does it like this queen, the writing is ALWAYS superior ‼️‼️

Congrats on 1k!!!

Frothing at the mouth for "I'm taking care of you now." And/Or "Let's get you in the shower and we'll take it from there." With Jack Abbot.

Thank you so much! I'm happy to have you here with me and thank you for sending in this prompt! ♥️ I went with "I'm taking care of you now" since I did the shower line with Jack in Tepid and this is a little follow on. It also involves showering but not quite that exact line! I hope you enjoy and it's okay!

I didn't originally think this is where the "I'm taking care of you now" prompt would go, but when I got an ask about whether I had something in mind where Jack got sick after taking care of Reader in Tepid, I felt the "now" in the prompt made it a good fit for doing just that!

Lukewarm (or Tepid Part 2)

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

1.6k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: None, really. General cold/flu discussion. Some sadness about getting Jack sick. Use of Jackie because it's my favorite and I've decided to embrace it. 😂 Fluff. No use of y/n or related.

Summary: Jack gets sick after taking care of you.

AN: Another fluffy sick fic but this time Jack is sick! I hope it's okay, for some reason I really don't like this but can't say why and was convinced to post.

“You know, if I didn’t feel so fucking awful about it I would absolutely be saying I told you so.”

You’re not quite completely over the flu that has had Jack taking care of you the last two days but you are now doing considerably better than he is. Because, like you were worried about, he did in fact get it from you. You knew the second you woke up to Jack’s sweat-dampened skin and sheets. 

He’s still incredibly sleepy, having just been woken up by your kisses to his face, and you’re sure he’s groggy from the flu. “I think you just did.” His voice is already pretty raw.

You run a hand through his sweat slicked curls but keep your body away from his as much as possible so your body heat doesn’t make him feel even hotter. “You know I feel awful for giving it to you,” you murmur.

Jack opens his eyes and blinks for a couple of seconds until you come into focus. “I do. But it’s not your fault. It just happens when you live together and take care of the person you love.” He gives you a tired but genuine smile.

You don’t like seeing Jack sick and in pain. He’s had too much pain in his life already, he shouldn’t have to endure any more. “Yeah,” you shrug, “but it could have been avoided if you had avoided me and let me just take care of myself.”

He gives you a look. “And if I had it first you would’ve not taken care of me to avoid the risk of getting sick?”

“No,” you admit. “But that’s different.” 

“Oh I can’t wait to hear this explanation,” Jack mutters.

“It doesn’t matter if I got sick and was miserable. It matters greatly if you are.” You truly believe it too.

Jack just stares at you for a couple of seconds, eyes glassy and bloodshot from the flu. “I genuinely don’t even know what to say to that bullshit.” He starts to cough and winces at the pain it flares in his throat. He feels awful knowing this is how miserable you felt. And he hates that you think you deserve to be miserable and how guilty he knows you’re feeling. Jack looks at you with soft eyes. “It matters just as much. It matters to me.”

Even with the significantly darkened eye bags he’s still unfairly handsome. You try not to let your guilt and sadness come through too much because he’ll start focusing on taking care of you and your mental health and not getting better and letting you take care of him. 

So you move on. “I’m going to get you some water and meds, okay? Do you want a zofran?”

“Probably, yeah. The nausea isn’t bad but I’d like to keep it that way and not have the meds hit my stomach and immediately throw them up.” Jack forces himself to sit up and groans. “God the body aches, you weren’t kidding about feeling like you’d been hit by a semi.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry Baby. Hopefully it’ll pass quickly for you and the pain meds will help. I’ll be right back, okay?” You lean in and give his forehead a kiss before sliding out of bed. 

You head to the bathroom and grab the same combo of meds Jack had been giving you the last two days. With you taking them and now Jack, you’re going to need more soon. You know he’d be more than fine but you don’t really want to leave him here alone. You head to the kitchen and grab some water, before making your way back to the bedroom.

“I’m texting Robby asking him to bring more meds and to let him know you won’t be at work tomorrow,” you tell Jack as you walk to his side of the bed and give him the zofran to put under his tongue first. 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head and then winces at the movement. “I’m sure I’ll be fine to go to work tomorrow.”

It’s your turn to give him a look. “I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Not happening, Jack.” You put the meds in his palm when he holds it out for you, give him the water in his other hand. “I’m taking care of you now, okay?” You rest your hands on his bare chest and rub soothingly. “And part of that with you is preventing you from pushing yourself and making yourself worse or prolonging how long you’re sick.”

Jack sets the water back down before looking back to you. “You don’t have to. I’m a big boy, can take care of myself. And you’re not even completely better yourself. I should still be taking care of you.” 

You sigh and shake your head at him, playfully enough for him to know there’s nothing serious behind it. “I’m much better, more than well enough to care for you. And I distinctly recall saying that if you got sick from me I was going to take care of you and didn’t want any pushback and you agreeing to that.” 

“You weren’t supposed to remember that conversation.” He smiles at you and tilts his head.

“Well I do.” You move your hands to his face and use your fingertips to gently massage his inflamed sinuses. He groans softly in relief. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles as his eyes flutter closed and he basks in the relief your fingers are providing. He thinks back to the first day you were sick. “There’s going to be a delay in making that wink up to you.”

You laugh softly. “I’m really not worried about that right now, Baby. I’m worried about getting you feeling better.”

He hums in acknowledgment. “I’m mad I could have been kissing you on the lips this whole time.”

You laugh softly. “Is that your way of asking for a kiss?”

Jack smiles at you. It’s still a bit weak and his eyes betray just how tired and shitty he’s feeling but they also show how excited he is at the prospect of getting to kiss you again. 

You move your hands to cup his face and then lean in, let him take all the kisses he wants from you. When he’s done for now he rests his forehead on yours. “You’ve definitely got the same fever.” You frown a little, hate that he got it from you so much you could scream. “I’ll take your temp in a minute.”

Jack shrugs in a don’t worry about it way. It doesn’t work. You’ll still be taking his temperature in a minute. “I’m sorry for getting you and the sheets sweaty,” he murmurs as he pulls his forehead from yours.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You smile at him and push a few curls stuck to his forehead back. “We should get you into a lukewarm shower before you get the chills, though. It’ll be far more enjoyable for you I think.”

Jack whines. He’s slowly letting himself have this and lean into it. Being sick and miserable and getting taken care of. He hasn’t had that for a long, long time. And it’s not just that you take care of him, you enjoy it, you love it. He knows it makes you feel good.  “I’ll be fine here.”

“Feeling cleaner will make you feel at least a little better.” You tilt your head as your smile becomes knowing as you repeat his words to you back to him. “It did for me. It made me feel a lot better. I’ll change the sheets and then once you’re showered we’ll come back to bed, okay? And if you’re feeling cooler and up to it you can snuggle and cuddle up to me however you want.”

“I might get you and the sheets all sweaty again.” He suddenly gets why you felt so bad and were so worried about it. 

You give him a little smirk. “Good, I love it when you get me and the sheets all sweaty. Not for this reason but, you know. I don’t mind.”

He groans but there’s a laugh to it. “Don’t make me think about the sex I can’t have with you, cruel woman.” 

“I’ll make it up to you once you’re feeling better, I promise.” 

You help Jack get in the shower after you take his temperature, and then like he did for you, you change the sheets and meet him back in the shower to help him. He’s not as hot once you get him back in bed, isn’t sweating anymore. Not that you would care if he was, you’re just glad that he’s cooled down enough to not be. You’re also glad the chills haven’t hit him yet and are hoping they never will. 

And as promised you let him snuggle up to you however he wants which ends up being both of you naked and Jack laying nearly completely on top of you, his head resting on your chest with half of his torso on your body, leg and arm thrown over you. It’s adorable how quickly he starts to fall asleep on you. 

“You gonna be okay?” His voice is a little slurred with sleep.

You start to run a hand through his wet curls, scratch at and massage his scalp a little. “I’m going to be just fine, my love.”  

He hums in appreciation, forces out a few more words. “Wake me if you need me.” “I will. And if you wake up and need something and I’ve dozed off you wake me, okay?” You don’t expect much of, if any, answer from him. Your hands in his hair in bed while cuddled together always knocks him out fast, but especially now when he’s sick.

“Mhm,” he hums.

You smile to yourself. His hum is adorable and makes your heart ache with how much you love him. So even though you know he’s already asleep on you, you still tell him. “Love you, Jackie.”

I hope it was alright and enjoyable! Thank you so much for reading! Your support and your interactions mean the world to me! ♥️

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[writingsonsaturn]

battle scars | dr. michael robinavitch x reader

summary: you’re picked as a volunteer medical help at the pittfest. when everything goes south, you get shot while helping other people. 

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x f!resident!reader

tw: age gap, attending/resident established relationship, mass shooting, gunshot wounds, blood, death (?), medical inaccuracies, might’ve changed the plot slightly to fit the story better, might’ve confused emts and paramedics on multiple occasions (sue me.. in europe there’s only paramedics for what i know)

wc: 6k

author’s note: finally i’ve finished it and published it lol i had this idea in mind for some time and then i remembered that greys anatomy episode with alex and his gsw and had to write something like that but with pitt lol hope you like it, any feedback is appreciated! also it’s midnight and this is not proofread (as always lol)

gif not mine

you were an r3 in the emergency room at ptmc. It was not an easy working position. definitely not with all the competitiveness among the medical staff, mostly interns and residents. and the fact that you dated one of the attendings, definitely didn’t make it any easier. half the time you felt like you had a target on your back because of it. that’s partly the reason you had to switch to night shifts. also the hr kind of made you.

now with the pittfest happening, the organisers needed additional medical staff for the festival, to make sure everything was covered. you weren’t really keen on being somewhere outside the city, in a tent under the soaring sun for a whole day, and neither were any of your fellow colleagues.

so there was a draw. robby and abbot, like two serious adults, played rock paper scissors to decide which shift is gonna let go one of its residents. lucky for your boyfriend, he won. unlucky for you, your superior won. and it didn’t take long deciding who's gonna go serve the city and the emts on site.

“i can’t lose my 4th years, i need’em here ,” abbot said with his arms crossed in front of his chest. sometimes you wondered if he did any boxing, with how big his arms were.

“send the kids,” you pouted and nodded your head in the direction of your r2 and r1 colleagues.

“you know they don’t have enough experience. you’re the perfect person for this,” he objects.

you try everything. pleading, fake crying, pouting, your puppy eyes. but abbot’s no robby. he remains completely unmoved by your behaviour.

“some volunteer work will look good on your cv,” he says, finished with the conversation as he makes his way towards the ambulance bay, where an ambulance has just parked.

“volunteer my ass,” you just scoff and follow him to help with the case.

the day of the fest comes faster than you’d like and you find yourself packing some stuff in your backpack in the morning. abbot was so nice as to let you have a night off, so you’re fresh in the morning. well, as fresh as possible, after working nights for quite some time.

“will you look after jake for me?” robby asks, packing his own things for work. he was supposed to stay home, maybe go to the pittfest with jake. not go to the place that haunted him on this particular day.

“sure. are you okay to work?” you ask, grabbing his arm and looking at his face. he managed to smile through the sad expression that was painted in his eyes. you stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

“if you want, we can swap,” you joke, trying to uplift the atmosphere in the room. robby lets out a laugh.

“you’d like that, wouldn't you? but i think you’ll realise you’re lucky you didn’t have to be there for the night crazies.”

“i’ve been working with the crazies for some time. i can handle them. but dealing with drunken teenagers with a heatstroke for the day, i’d pass. if i could.”

“you’re gonna be great. and maybe you’ll get to enjoy some of the music. keep me updated on everything,” he says and puts the backpack on his shoulders.

you sit down on the bed pouting, as you still have some time before you have to leave. robby sees it and he crouches before you, hands on your knees to help him keep steady.

“i love you. it will be over before you know it,” he says and you look at him. 

you learned to love his features. though he looked like he was gonna cry half the time, which you don’t blame him for, you wanted to cry half the time while on shift too, all the wrinkles and fine lines all around his face, made him uniquely robby. your hand touched his beard, that was a combination of dark brown and silver hairs. it was a little rough on your skin, but you loved it nevertheless. you lean in and give him a quick kiss, before he has to run so he’s not late for hand offs. abbot wouldn’t be too happy about that. 

luckily you and robby both have your own cars so you don’t have to take a cab to the site. a security guard takes you through, giving you an arm band that says ‘first aid’ and takes you to the big white tent with a red cross, that belongs to helping people, who enjoyed the festivities a bit too much.

you introduce yourself to the people who are already there and learn, you’re the only person with a medical degree there for the day. there are two nurses, maria specialising in intensive care, julie from another pittsburgh emergency room and an emt named andy. 

thankfully you hit it off and right after you go through the inventory and everybody’s role, you sit down, sipping on some lemonade and sharing job stories in a true healthcare worker’s fashion. 

people start filling the area around noon and you deal with a few minor cases, like bee stings (thankfully no one went into anaphylactic shock), dehydration and a nosebleed after some kid head bumped another.

you text robby about how you’re bored and a med student could literally solve these tough-ass cases. you think about texting abbot something very sarcastic, but he’d probably not even look at the message. you’re already planning a revenge on the old man, after putting you through this.

“okay, keep the ice on it and you can wait here for your friend,” andy says, putting an ice pack on an ugly ankle sprain. people on festivals seem to be breaking way more easily than in day to day life. you feel like you’re more swamped than in the er. sure, the cases are not as severe, but there’s still some work to do.

you excuse yourself and move towards the ever disgusting porta potty. before your first use, you thought of just inserting a foley up your urethra, so you’d spare yourself the dreadful experience, but now, armed with disinfectant and wipes, you’re ready. you’re also as quick as your bladder allows you. 

when you finish, you pour a good amount of the disinfectant on your hands, before grabbing your phone and opening your conversation with jake. he was already around here somewhere, with his girlfriend, but you wanted to check on him anyways, for robby and yourself. though you and robby weren’t together for that long, you knew he and jake had a solid relationship considering the circumstances. and you learned to like jake too.

you click on the little telephone icon and put the phone to your ear, waiting for the ringing. jake picks up almost immediately, which surprises you.

“hello?”

“hi, i’m just checking in. the both of you alright?”

“yeah, we’re fine, don’t worry. we just grabbed some snacks and are on our way to the main stage,” he says and you hear some muffled, girl voice.

“okay, enjoy yourselves. as much as i’d love to see you, i really hope i don’t see you in this tent. be careful out there and just text me every few hours. it’s for robby’s sake also,” you say, voice serious and for a moment you feel like an adult instructing a child on what to do. but jake just laughs, reassuring you that he’d call or text and then you say your goodbyes. 

when you returned to your colleagues for the day, the rush seemed to have calmed down. the only patient being the sprained ankle guy, still waiting for his friend to pick him up and take him to an er. you had an ambulance on site, but he was conscious and alert, with stable vitals. he could transport himself someway to the hospital. 

maria is cracking open an iced can of coke and she offers you one too, which you gladly accept. the heat inside the tent is becoming overwhelming and you’re lucky you have the cooler at least. other people might not be so lucky.

you’re counting down the seconds, minutes, hours before the festival ends. the sprained ankle eventually sorts himself out, or rather, his friend sorts him out and you’re left alone for a moment again.

“i’m telling you, this is nothing compared to the icu. i’d trade anytime. acls versus putting band aids on,” maria says and julie nods.

“agreed. can’t even count how many times i’d considered leaving emergency medicine for any other specialty. sometimes i even wonder what got me into nursing. could’ve become a dental hygienist and be happy,” she laughs.

you understand them. you sympathise so much.

“honestly, i don’t know what else i’d do if not emergency medicine. maybe intensive care,” you laugh and maria rolls her eyes.

“another adrenaline junkie,” andy adds.

“you’re still young. just wait a few years,” maria says. 

she’s kind of right, but at the same time you hope she’s wrong. you don’t want to work till you’re burnt out. you want to work because it fulfills you, makes you happy and the work makes sense. you’re not working to be burnt out. you’re working to avoid it. 

it’s so easy to burn out in healthcare. you see it a lot. people have high expectations, high hopes coming out of universities. and then the reality kicks in. you get chewed up before you even finish residency. you keep believing that will not be your case. the specialty is hard, but it still makes sense to you, though there are many, many factors going against you. you just gotta push through.

as the sun’s slowly coming down and you’re still immersed in conversation, an eerie feeling washes over your shoulders. it’s like the energy of the outside crowd changes. you look around, and though something definitely feels different, you can’t really point it out. unit you hear it.

at first you aren’t really sure what you hear. but the second time, you’re dead sure.

“gunshots…” andy says it just as it comes to your mind. all three of you jump to stand up.

the dynamic outside the first aid tent changes. there are screams, crying and running, the plastic walls of the tent are shaking.

“grab the backpacks!” you shout and all four of you go out of the tent.

you look around. people, bodies, are everywhere. literally. they are running, crawling. some of them are laying down, covering their heads. you cannot see the shooter. there’s chaos everywhere and people are bumping into you as you make your way through the crowd.

“let’s spread out and help who we can! julie call 911!” you shout and make your way into what feels like epicentre.

you hear more gunshots and you bend over, holding the backpack in front of you like a shield. in case the shooter hit you, the back pack wouldn’t do much protecting, but as a placebo, it worked.

from your left, you heard a loud, high pitched cry. a woman was laying on the ground, people running around and over her.

“watch out!” you shout and quickly crouch down next to her. she has a gunshot wound to her abdomen and thigh. blood is spraying from the leg wound and you quickly go through the first aid backpack, grabbing a bunch of the sterile gauze, putting it on the wound and keeping the pressure.

“it… hurts,” the woman cries and coughs. she’s not coughing up any blood, which you take as a good sign. the abdominal wound seems to not be that severe. you quickly assess it too, also checking the woman’s pulse. she’s tachycardic but the radial and jugular are strong. wish you could say the same about femoral. it’s weaker and the blood is already seeping through the gauze. you need to put some kind of tourniquet above the wound to further stop the bleeding.

you find another longer piece of gauze and quickly put it around the woman’s thigh, just above the bleeding wound. you put it around a few times and then tie a tight knot. you risk stopping the blood flow completely, but losing a leg seems better than losing a whole person.

people are still running around and you hear a few more distant gunshots. quickly looking around, you find andy with your eyes as he’s helping a man on the ground. then you hear something else. a siren. red and blue lights. you look that way and there in the distance, police cars and ambulances start piling up. thank god.

you stand up and wave your hand in the air. you’re probably making yourself an easy target, but you need to get this woman into the hospital as soon as possible.

“right here!” you shout as you see two paramedics running your way and wave your bloody hands. they carefully make their way towards you.

they put the backboard down next to the woman as you start about her condition. “she’s stable for now, but i don’t know how long that tourniquet’s gonna hold.”

“okay, thanks. you should get yourself to safety.”

“i gotta help people get to safety first. is more help coming?”

“we don’t know. we got there among the first ones. police is running around looking for that maniac,” one of them says as they move the woman to the backboard and start taking her to the ambulance.

you look after them for a moment, before more gunshots soar through the air. you’re not sure if it’s the psycho or the police, but you don’t wait around to find out. you start running toward the people on the ground, helping a mother with her son find their way to the emergency exits.

you find another person on the ground. it’s a young male. you crouch down next to him. he’s got multiple chest wounds. the blood is quickly seeping through the fabric of his shirts, that’s in shreds.

“please… help… me…” he manages to cough out. but with his word, gushes of blood are coming out of the corners of his mouth.

“don’t worry, i’m gonna help you,” you give him half a smile. “what’s your name?”

“tom.”

“well, tom, you have some pretty serious injuries. but i’m gonna do everything i can.”

the backpack doesn’t really carry the equipment you’d need right now. and tom is in need of some serious stuff. his pulse is weak, he’s coughing up blood, there’s three chest wounds, but only one exit wound on the back.

“my… friend. he’s somewhere over here.”

“okay. first i’m gonna help you, get you in an ambulance and then i can take care of your friend. how’s your breathing tom?” you put your ear to the man’s chest, because you don’t have your stethoscope on you.

“worse. i can’t… inhale.”

you pack the wounds full of gauze. there’s not a lot left in the backpack. you do what you can with what you’re left with. but tom is quickly deteriorating. suddenly, he’s not coughing, speaking… or breathing. you check for a pulse. none.

“fuck,” you say under your breath as you get in the position to do chest compressions. you lock in your hands and start compressing.

considering the chest wounds, this might be a lost cause. maybe you should leave him and focus on another injured person, who might have a better chance of survival. but you can’t just leave him like this. 

your hands start to hurt a little, but you don’t slow the compressions down. other paramedics are running your way. you check for a pulse. none. you resume compressions and they start helping you. one is starting the intubation and the other exchanges positions with you so you can assess the wounds closer. they seemed to have missed the major vessels, but one is definitely in the lung, causing a collapse.

“pulse check,” you say after a few moments. the paramedic stops with chest compressions and you check the pulse.

“resume. and let’s get him into the ambulance stat.”

thankfully another paramedic team helps you with tom and soon they’re rolling him on a gurney into the ambulance, while one of them is still pushing down his chest.

they leave you at the scene. there’s still a lot of people left. another gunshot sound tear through the air and that’s when you see them.

jake… and his girlfriend leah. she’s on the ground. he’s next to her, holding her hand, shaking visibly. you run over to them.

from the first look it doesn’t look good. another chest injury. you don’t want to have another tom on you.

jake looks up and calls your name. you’re on your knees quickly, right next to leah. she’s in and out of consciousness.

“are you okay?” you ask jake as you’re helping leah. he points to his leg. there’s what looks like a superficial wound, but it’s bleeding a lot.

“find some gauze, if there’s any left. put pressure on your leg,” you throw him the back pack. leah starts shaking with coughs under you. the blood is seeping through the material of her top, staining your hands even more. you don’t even wanna know how many people’s blood you have on them by now.

“c-can you save her?” jake asks with a shaky voice.

“i’m gonna try.”

another gunshot tears through the air. 

it’s loud. 

it’s close. 

you instinctively throw yourself at leah and jake, trying to cover them with your body to protect them from the shooter. a sudden pain rips through your side and you feel out of breath. your hand clutches at the spot. you look at it. it’s covered in fresh blood.

it’s yours. 

you’ve been hit.

adrenaline is rushing through your veins. the pain subsides. you straighten up, still looking at your hand. then down at your side. on the right side of your chest, there’s a gunshot wound. it’s leaking blood.

“you’re hurt,” jake says. you give him a look. you try not to show any fear, though inside you’re blowing up with anxiety.

“don’t worry about me, we gotta get you to hospital.”

you quickly pull yourself together and resume helping leah. but she’s slowly slipping. her breathing is really shallow and she’s barely conscious. blood is just pouring out of her wound. you try your best to keep pressure on it and keep her awake at the same time, but it’s becoming difficult. 

whenever you take a breath, your own chest starts hurting. it was like someone was stabbing you every time you made a certain move. but you have no time for that. suddenly you see leah falling asleep.

“leah? stay with me! stay awake…” you gently pat her shoulder and then her cheek. she’s out. 

you rub her chest bone. you’re sure she’s in a lot of pain anyways, but the sternal rub usually wakes up everyone. not her. not in this situation.

“don’t do this to me leah.”

“wha-what’s happening?” jake asks with a shaky voice.

you put your ear to her chest.

“she stopped breathing. i need you to keep the pressure on her chest. can you do that?”

“i think so,” he replies. you’re in an unfortunate situation. jake has to watch his leg and leah’s gunshot wound. but you cannot do compressions and keep pressure on the wound.

grinding your teeth together, you move through the pain. putting your hands to leah's chest, much like to tom’s a few minutes ago, you start pressing down on her sternum.

“the blood… i feel like there’s more coming out,” jake breathes out and you see worry in his face.

“just try to keep as much pressure as you can. the compressions are sending blood all around leah’s body, even through the wound. just press as hard as you can.”

you do a quick pulse check. nothing. you resume the compressions. your eyes start to prickle with tears as the adrenaline is wearing off. your arms hurt, your chest hurt, your knees hurt. but you just push through one last time, giving leah your everything.

“i think i see someone. hey! we need help!” jake starts shouting and waving the hand, that held pressure on his leg wound.

paramedics come running your way. you feel like you’re slowing down, like you can’t take a deep breath. one of them exchanges places with you and you help the other with putting leah’s unconscious body on the gurney.

“are you hurt anywhere doc? you have blood all over you.”

“it’s not mine.”

not all of it anyways. 

you don’t want them to get distracted for a not too serious injury. you can still breathe somehow, you can stand up and help jake up without collapsing on the ground.

“you should come with us anyways. it’s not safe,” the paramedic says as they’re hauling leah up to the ambulance, followed by jack and his partner.

you look around. many first responders are on site, along with police and a swat team. you don’t want to leave the people that still need help behind, but at the same time, you can’t leave jake and leah alone. so you hop into the back of the ambulance with the paramedic and jake. 

“where are you taking all the people?” you ask the paramedic in between compressions. the least you can do is help them on the way to the hospital. 

“pittsburgh trauma medical,” he responds and connects leah to the heart monitor. he already intubated and connected her to the portable ventilator and is drawing up some meds.

you feel a little relieved that you’re taking jake and leah to the pitt, because you know they’re gonna get the best care there. but you also know, robby is gonna freak out. this day is already so hard for him as it is. and now this. he’s gonna be crushed.

“let’s give a round of epi,” you say while still compressing leah’s chest. the paramedic pushes the epinephrine.

you stop compressions, looking at the monitor. the line is still flat, but only for a second.

“v-tach. charge to 200.”

the defibrilator makes the distinct sound of charging up, before you give the ‘all clear’ order and the paramedic pushes the button. leah’s body jolts upwards and then falls back down. the monitor gives you a long beep and you get ready to resume compressions, but then the number 53 appears on screen.

“sinus rhythm,” the paramedic concludes. luckily you’re pulling up to the ambulance bay in ptmc, before leah’s heart has a chance to give up again.

the back door to the ambulance opens and you’re met with shen and ellis, your night shift colleagues. they’re both covered in bloody gowns and they stop at first, when they see you, jake and leah, but then quickly snap into action.

“she has a gsw to the chest. lost pulse on site, i did cpr for a few minutes before paramedics arrived, we intubated, gave a round of epi and shocked her back. i don’t know how long she’s gonna be stable.”

just as you finish, the heart monitor gives you the dreaded long-ass beep. she’s flatlined again. you hop on the gurney and start compressions once again, with the last bits of energy you have left. 

shen has taken over the ambu bag and ellis along with the paramedics rolled the gurney with leah and you into the er. jake has been taken by nurses on a wheelchair right behind you. straight away abbot and robby are next to you.

“jake? are you okay, buddy?” robby runs to him, as you give the same information about leah’s condition again to abbot. he nods and starts assessing the chest wound on your way to the trauma bay.

“hold compressions,” abbot says with his always so serious voice, in full work mode. you stop and inhale as deep as your own wound allows you to. the monitor’s flatlining still.

“second round to epi, hang a bag of O neg. and where the fuck’s walsh?” he barks orders around as your hands fold together in the middle of leah’s sternum once again. when you’re done she’s surely gonna have an imprint of your hand in the middle of her chest.

“fuck. are you hurt?” abbot asks when he’s finally got the chance to look at you properly. right then, walsh and robby step in. 

“what do we have here?” emery asks as she takes a pari of clean gloves. robby follows right behind you. 

“i’m… fine…” you let out a breath in between each compression. robby’s eyebrows are drawn together as he looks at you.

“you’re clearly not. let’s exchange,” abbot instructs and you see a nurse getting behind you, ready to take over the chest compressions.

“no! i’m fine! let’s push another epi!”

“hey…” robby says with a calming voice. “you’re here now, let us help. let us take care of leah.”

“she needs help too, there’s blood all over,” abbot adds to the conversation.

“it’s not mine,” you repeat yourself like a broken record, but let the nurse take over eventually and robby help you down from the gurney.

as his hand touches the spot on the right side of your ribcage to help you down, you wince and inhale sharply. robby takes his hand away, switching to doctor mode, instantly. 

“are you hurt?”

“no… maybe a little,” you confess, clutching the wet, bloody spot on your torn shirt. the adrenaline is wearing off and you feel lightheaded.

“okay, let’s get you a bed,” robby instructs, taking your hand and helping you from your left side. you enter the emergency room hallway and mingle in between the patients, who are all over. in chairs, wheelchairs, on gurneys and beds, in the rooms and outside of them. luckily, robby finds you a spot in the yellow zone.

“lie down,” he says firmly and puts on a new pair of gloves. “and strip the shirt. and the bra.”

“duh, buy me a dinner first,” you joke. of course he’s seen you naked. many, many times. but this is different. you’re injured and you feel more vulnerable than ever. the bullet probably missed anything important, but still. you got shot.

as you try to pull the shirt up, you feel your ribs crackle and you wince again, letting go of the fabric. robby sees you struggling and pulls out the scissors that can cut through anything out of the cart.

you lie down, letting out a few curse words and let your boyfriend cut through the shirt and then your bra. you’d feel shy, being naked in front of all the patients and your colleagues. but luckily everyone was so busy, no one even realised you were in there. those who knew you were, were currently saving leah’s life. also the pain was starting to pick up and you just wanted it to stop.

“a little? you’re kidding…” robby scoffs as soon as he sees the bloody entry wound and gently peels the fabric off. you suck a breath in, biting down on your tongue.

“why didn't you come sooner?” robby asks as he inspects the wound. “you could’ve bled out.”

“the bleeding wasn’t that bad. and people needed my help, they had far worse injuries.”

“the bullet could’ve migrated. hit a lung or a major artery,” he sounds like a teacher, a boss, an adult. and you feel like a small child.

“but it didn’t, michael.”

his face softens. as it always does, when you use his first name. he sits next to you on the bed after taping the wound over with a sterile gauze. he grabs your hands in his, sad, brown eyes looking into yours. tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes again.

“i was so worried. i couldn’t reach jake nor you. i thought…”

“we’re here now. and we’re okay.”

“i see your sense of humour hasn’t left you. that’s a good sign,” he gives you half a smile, before standing up hand gently kissing your forehead.

“i’m gonna grab a nurse so we can get you sorted out and ready for a ct. and i’ll have walsh look at you,” he says, grabbing an ipad and typing something in.

“that’s not necessary. just give me some pain meds and i can help you. she can look at me, when this is all over.”

you start to sit up, pushing through the piercing pain, but robby’s hand on yours houlder stops you in your actions. he gently pushes you back into the bed.

“did you hit your head? are you feeling dizzy?” he asks, pulling out the pen light from his pocket and shining it right into your eyes. you squint.

“michael, i’m serious. you need all the help you can get. i just need some patching up and after we sort through all the patients, walsh can stuff her fingers in my chest for all she wants.”

“maybe i hit my head,” he objects. “because i don’t know why i would hear my doctor girlfriend suggest something so reckless and dangerous.”

“well, you’re not gonna stop me. just give me some pain meds and i’ll sort myself out.”

“i cannot allow this,” robby puts his hands on his hips.

“well you can’t hold me here against my will.”

“no. but i can get psych to hold you against your will. and i think it might not be the worst idea.”

“michael,” you deadpan. but he’s not budging. “what if you just patch me up, give me the pain meds, i help with the less serious cases and then i go lie back down. and if i’m feeling dizzy, cannot breathe or i’m bleeding out, i’m gonna call you.”

still not moving from where he’s standing.

“please, i can’t just sit here and look by.”

you didn’t want to succumb to pleading and giving robby puppy eyes, but there you go. and if you’re stubborn enough, you know you’re gonna win. eventually he’ll say yes. he can’t really say no to you.

“ugh. okay. but i can’t give you any opioids. the last thing we need is a high doctor helping out around here.”

you smile and shower him in million ‘thanks’. then you grab one of the patients’ gown, dress yourself up, gulp down an ibuprofen which is gonna do exactly nothing and you take robby’s id for the scrubs machine, as you don’t have any on you. 

you change quickly, checking on your dressing. it’s not bled through yet. you pull your hair up in a ponytail and as per your promise, you go help mel and whitaker with the yellow cases. you manage to bump some patients up into icu and other departments, but your beds don’t stay empty too long. patients that got better from other zones or patients from the hallway make their way into your zone. 

you work through the pain and try ot act as normal as you can. you can still do almost everything you normally do, though when you’re helping a patient up on a bed, your ribs crackle again and you have to bite down on your lip to stop tears from escaping the corners of your eyes.

you can feel robby’s gaze on you all the time. and when he’s talking to abbot in the nurses’ station, and you catch both their looks, you know you’re in trouble. and unlucky for you, one of the policemen announces that they caught the shooter and all the victims have now been transported to ptmc and are being taken care of.

you see robby and abbot strolling towards you. you turn back to the computer you’re standing by, updating the patient’s chart and trying not to pay attention to the two.

“come on now. you’re getting proper treatment,” robby says from beside you, you close the chart on the computer and turn his way. abbot is there too, standing slightly behind robby but not any less scary, his huge arms crossed in front of his chest.

“okay, gee, i’m fine am i not?”

“just because you’re not laying on the ground and bleeding out doesn’t mean you’re okay,” robby says.

“you’re lucky your boyfriend’s here. had it been me, you’d be in surgery already,” abbot adds sarcastically and you and robby both shot him a look. he just smirks and leaves you two alone.

“i don’t know why you’re refusing help. you’ve already done so much. it’s your turn now,” robby says as you enter the elevator together, to go up for a ct.

“i’m not,” you scoff. “i’m fine. i mean, it’s not urgent. there were patients that needed the ct and medical staffs’ attention more than me at that moment.”

“but you’re just as important. you have a bullet lodged in your chest somewhere, for god’s sake,” he rubs his temples, frustrated at your actions. 

your chest tightness at his words. not because you have a gunshot wound in it. because he said you’re important. it was in situations like these, that you’re so used to putting others first, you always forget about yourself. it’s not like you’re unaware of your own importance, you just don’t consider it as important as the lives you’re responsible for. it was just complicated. and the bullet really didn’t cause any problems, other than pain. all you needed was some stitching a shot of morphine and you’d be fine.

“i don’t know how to explain it… i’m not trying to make the situation easier when it clearly isn’t. i just… i don’t know.”

“you’re a real hero, baby. but you don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay and that you’re not in pain. just let me and walsh help you,” robby says with a soft voice as the elevator dings and he leads you to radiology.

“well, i don’t know how it’s possible, but the bullet missed basically everything important. with surgery, there’s a risk i’m gonna hit something while taking it out, so if it’s not causing much trouble, i’d probably advise leaving it in, but it’s your decision.”

walsh is looking at your scans as you’re laying down on the hospital bed once again. robby is sitting next to you, holding your hand in his, finger intertwined. 

“see, told you it could stay in,” you can’t help yourself and wink at robby. he just rolls his eyes but gives you half a smile. 

“do you want a minute to think it through?” walsh asks. 

“it can just stay in,” you say, determined. 

“okay then. let me prep and i’ll clean the wound and stitch it up.”

“i can do it,” robby steps in. walsh just shrugs, says a quick bye and leaves.

he starts setting up the tray. you just look at him in silence. he’s so precise, preparing everything, from the numbing medicine to the instruments, keeping everything perfectly sterile.

“can i get the morphine now? i’m not saving any more lives today.”

robby laugh and walks over to the computer. he types something in and then walks to the medicine drawer as it unlocks automatically and he takes one vial out. the nurses in radiology already issued you with and iv cannula so robby uses it to give you the pain medicine.

then he takes the numbing medicine, injecting small amounts around the wound and then covering it with a sterile drape.

“you shouldn’t feel anything, just some pressure or pulling,” he informs you. 

“yes, doc,” you reply, smiling.

“i see the drugs are kicking in,” he replies with a smirk.

“you finally gave me the good stuff. the ibuprofen worked as a good placebo though.”

you see robby grabbing the needle and in a moment feel a slight pulling sensation on your chest. it’s nothing too bad. 

“i’d say… four stitches and we’re done.”

“make it pretty. it will be my battle scar. proof of my heroic actions,” you babble away, little high on the morphine shot.

“anything for my girl.”

[writingsonsaturn]

the people have spoken timmy b it is

chat the next fic is based off of “my boy only breaks his favorite toys” idk if i should do tim or dr.robby IM STUCK

[writingsonsaturn]

[writingsonsaturn]

chat the next fic is based off of “my boy only breaks his favorite toys” idk if i should do tim or dr.robby IM STUCK

[writingsonsaturn]

𖹭.ᐟ peter parker

MIRRORBALL ⤑ peter has been neglecting you, and it's affecting your relationship

[writingsonsaturn]

𖹭.ᐟ jack abbot

LONG STORY SHORT ⤑ after a suicide attempt, jack helps you rebuild (tw. suicide attempt)

[writingsonsaturn]

𖹭.ᐟ tim bradford

PUPPY LOVE ⤑ tim is only soft for one person, and thats his girlfriend

FOR GOOD? ⤑ you come home from the army and surprise tim

REKINDLED LOVE ⤑ you and tim were high school sweethearts, who find each other again

WRONG PLACE, WRONG TIME ⤑ lucy mistakes you for a suspect and tim is shocked to see his fiancee in handcuffs

YOU'RE SOMEONE BETTER ⤑ you need a date to a wedding, and who better than tim (SMUT)

I'LL FIND YOU ⤑ you get kidnapped and tim rescues you

ALL OF THE GIRLS YOU'VE LOVED BEFORE ⤑ the two of you are soulmates

ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS STAY ⤑ after a hard shift tim finds himself at your door, even though he broke up with you

MAD WOMAN ⤑ you get harassed at work, tim comforts you (tw. sexual harassment)

[writingsonsaturn]

long story short

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐 - yall this is my longest fic to date, i love you guys

wc - 5.5k | content warning - attempted suicide, vomiting, reader has a bad mother, non-sexual nudity, panic attack, mental health talk, please if this is a trigger for you do not read this, I have other fics and will be putting more out, take care of yourself

summary - when the weight of the world falls on you, Jack is there to dust off the rubble

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Life always seemed to either move too fast or too slow, never in-between for you. Your body felt as if it was floating through time, never giving you a second to breath in the air around you.

When you were little your parents wanted you to be great, to be what they couldn't since they had you so young. Your mother encouraged you to be a doctor, always telling you how sharp your senses were, or how beneficial your steady hands would be in the medical field.

You would argue there was never a choice as to what your job would be, you didn't get to dream about being a chef, or a hair stylist, only a medical physician. Now in all fairness, you weren't completely uninterested in this career path — infact you truly loved learning medicine, you just wished you had more of a choice.

Throughout medical school you went through ups and downs mentally, the never ending stress that being in this profession gives humans can be unbearable. Exams, clinical rotations, and so much more had began to weigh on you heavily — so much so you started contemplating taking your own life.

Assuming it would be easier to do that then disappoint your parents.

You were a fourth-year med student when you attempted, working at PTMC. Your attending Dr. Jack Abbot told you to go home early, he noticed your distant stare, the way you refused to look anyone in the eye, he saw all the signs he experienced himself; still he sent you home.

Dragging your feet up into your small apartment, locking the door behind you, setting your stuff down on the floor next to the door and walking into the bathroom. You met your own eyes in the mirror, the dark circles embedded themselves in your sockets and you sighed.

There was no will left in your body, so you reached a hand into your medicine cabinet and took a handful of pain meds you had been prescribed a year ago after hurting your shoulder. You choked on the pills as you swallowed them dry, then sat yourself on the bathroom floor waiting for darkness to wash over your body.

Jack felt it in his stomach that something was off, he knew he shouldn't have sent you home alone.

He saw it in the way you were holding yourself up just enough to get through the shift. He was beating himself up for it, so he decided to go check on you after work; you had only gone home an hour before your shift was set to end, and he is praying to whatever will listen that he won't be too late, that he was just overreacting.

The two of you were close, he had grown fond of you — more specifically your kind personality. You were always ensuring good bedside manner, even when Gloria was on his ass about you working quicker to get more patients into beds.

After losing his wife Jack swore he'd never love again, then he saw you and everything changed. He yearned to get to know you, he needed to see what you looked like when you woke up in the mornings, if you sung in the shower, your comfort foods, any and all things that had to do with you he wanted to know.

The inner voice in his head shamed him for liking a woman that much younger than him, nearly 20 years her senior, but she was perfect. In everyway possible Jack could not find anything to reel his feelings back from you, he tried everything but he just wanted to pull you closer every time.

Jack made his way up the rickety stairs of your old Pittsburgh apartment, rubbing his cold hands together as his achy knees counted one step at a time before finally reaching your door.

Three knocks echoed through the hallway

"Kid? It's Jack, can you open the door?"

Silence.

Jack knocks again.

"Y/n, open the door please! I know you can hear this!"

He knocked one more time, banking on the possibility you were asleep.

"I'm gonna break the door down if you don't open up, hon"

Waiting a few moments, he pressed his ear against the door trying to listen for any movement but was only met with the sound of his own racing heartbeat.

Jack's hand's begin looking for an extra key anywhere outside of your door, but found nothing. So, Jack proceeded to the next step which was breaking your door open, one of your neighbors had come out to inspect the commotion in the hallway and saw your door with split wood coming from the siding.

Wandering into the house Jack yelled your name out, seeing your purse and coat laying down on the floor next to the door, he knew you were home, it was just the matter of finding you.

"Y/n? Where are you, kid?" he whispered the last words more to himself as he walked through the kitchen and towards what he assumed was your room.

There was an eerie sense of stillness in the air when he walked into your room, as he looked around he saw the lighting of your bathroom illuminating the wall. Jack felt his heart plummet towards the floor, he hurriedly walked over to the slightly ajar door and saw your limp body laying there.

"Holy fuck, hey! Baby, wake up!" Jack's voice cracked as he knelt down next to you, Jack put his pointer and middle finger on your carotid feeling for a pulse.

It was faint but there.

Your neighbor had come in when he heard Jack screaming your name, Jack was startled at first before begging for the man to call 911.

"Tell them we have an overdose, faint pulse, and slowed breathing!" Jack yelled over the sound of his own erratic pulse.

"Please baby, please be okay." He picked you up bridal style, and carefully rushed you down those hazardous stairs to meet the paramedics. They arrived swiftly 8 minutes later, Jack was eternally grateful you had a place so close to the hospital. Rushing out a bunch of medical jargon, making sure they understand how serious your condition is.

Jack rode in the ambulance with you, holding your hand the whole time. Doing his best to comfort himself with comforting you, his thumb rubbing rhythmically over your knuckles.

He couldn't bring himself to look at your face again, the lifeless expression it rested at was enough to make his lip quiver in agony, your cheeks were stained with dried tears — he couldn't wipe your sadness away, only forced to meet the possibility of your death.

Everything became a blur to him, the moment the gurney wheels hit the ground and entered the ER it was chaos. The moment Dr. Robby's eyes laid upon your unconscious form he stuttered, which was unusual for him, when you were working the day-shift Robby was your guiding light; he always had the answer to your question, and never once hesitated.

This was different. You were the patient now, you were the life he is supposed to save.

"You gotta save her, man!" Jack yelled out a plea to Robby.

"I need you to go, brother!" Robby replied with haste, as he got the charcoal drink prepared while the nurses pump your stomach.

Dana started pushing Jack out of the way, as much as Abbot tried to hide his feelings for you, everyone, and truly everyone, knew how he felt about you; except for you.

"C'mon hon, lets get you a chair" Dana was nursing a motherly tone, she was doing her best to keep Jack off the ledge while still doing her job.

"She was so fucking c-cold" Jack's voice cracked under the pressure of the tears he was holding back.

There was nothing for him to do except wait, and that was the most agonizing part of all, he wasn't aware of if you were coding, or if the charcoal was working, or hell if a white sheet was being placed over your dead body while they solemnly called your time of death.

God, you are so loved in the ER. Everyone loved the cookies you would bring every other Saturday, "just cause." The radiance and sheer excitement only a med student has, but it was all a facade, you were internally crashing in front of everyone and Jack was the only one who noticed the light fading from your smile.

Yet, he still let you fucking leave alone.

Word after word went through Jack's mind, every sentence he said to you that shift and how he felt he had been a little harsher on you today because you weren't giving your full potential. He thought if he could just break you in, just a bit, you would give the fire in your hands the opportunity to escape.

You were good, so, so fucking good. Everything you did was smart and well planned, your answers to on-the-spot questions were quick and concise. This career was practically born with you, your care for humans was unmatched, and he hated himself for never thinking about what you were over-compensating for.

He was stuck sitting in this lousy , uncomfortable, professional lawn chair re-thinking all the outcomes that this could lead to — the worst of them being your death.

Robby walked in with a sigh and quickly explained your situation to Jack before being talked over by a million questions.

"She is going into the general ward upstairs, we have not detected any neurological anomalies, however, we are still waiting on the CT-" Robby takes a breath before continuing "-she is really fucking lucky you found her when you did, you can see her when you're ready," he finished.

Jack went in for a hug, an unsaid 'thank you,' and rushed to the elevator to get right back to his rightful place next to you.

The day was long and Jack didn't get a wink of rest, every twenty minutes he looked at your vitals himself even though there was a nurse routinely checking them as well, he needed to check for himself.

Robby had come up after his shift ended, he had tried to get Jack to go home. Telling him "she likely won't wake up for another couple of hours, you should go home and change." Jack only then realized he still had his scrubs on, but he didn't care, he wasn't going to leave you alone again, not now.

With a shake of his head, Robby patter Jack on the back and left without another word.

Then at around 11:27pm, your hand twitched, and a groan escaped your throat, slightly panicky as you realized where you were. Jack was quick on his feet, bringing his face into your view so you would calm down, "hey, hey shh, it's okay" Jack rushed in a whisper, trying his hardest not to startle you.

Your hand searched quickly for his and he was even quicker to grab a hold of it. First has pushed the call button to get a nurse in, then he asked you a question-

"Honey, do you remember what happened?"

The look in your eyes was enough of an answer for him, you remembered everything.

"Oh, baby" Jack's other hand gently caressed your head, smoothing out your hair. He saw a tear stream down the side of your face and quickly wiped, selfishly happy he was able to. He swore to himself you would never experience this alone ever again, he was gonna help you through this.

You winced as you swallowed, your throat raw and scratchy with the amount of trauma caused. Jack noticed your painful action and went to grab you some water in a dixie cup, and while he did this, the nurse also had come in to check on you.

"Hey sweetheart, how are we feeling? Any pain I should know about?" The nurse, Stella, asked kindly. You shook your head, not yet trusting your voice to speak.

"Her throat is bothering her, but that's to be expected" Jack told Stella, Stella nodded in agreement with a soft smile directed at you that made you feel safe. After Jack gave you the water, Stella gave you a little while to get your bearings before explaining any next steps to you.

You knew what was to happen next, likely a 72 hour hold in the psychiatric ward. Kiara had come to talk to you, first asking if you would consent to inpatient — which you did — and than walking you through your next course of action. You asked if you were at risk of losing your position and were ensured you would be okay, Jack insisting he won't let anything happen.

Jack went over all the paperwork with you, making sure you understood everything and reassuring you that he would be there everyday to during visiting hours. You were terrified, this wasn't how you thought things were going to lay out.

After all papers were signed and sent to the system you and jack waited together for an available room, you gasped when you realized your parents were going to have to know eventually. Tears gathered in your eyes once more, thinking how disappointed they'll be.

"I'll take care of it, okay kid?" Jack said, pulling your head into his chest and rubbed your back carefully. He wanted nothing more than to take away all the things burdening your thoughts, he continued assuring your worries as you gripped onto his scrub top like a vice.

"Alright dear, are you ready?" A new nurse, Erin, asked.

You nodded numbly, hugging Jack and him kissing your forehead, telling you he'd see you tomorrow, then you went of with the nurse.

Those three days were horrible for you, you couldn't even piss alone.

You were absolutely elated to be going back home, you were prescribed anti-depressants and mandatory 2 months therapy. Jack drove you home, taking your little things he brought to you back up. Jack had looked through all of your stuff — with your permission — and took away anything you could use to harm yourself that was not necessary to life.

He also had stocked up your fridge with a weeks worth of food.

You felt a little light return to your body at seeing how much effort this man put into making you feel safe, your eyes landed on air mattress that was neatly laid out on the ground in your living room.

"Uh, I hope you don't mind, I figured the first couple of days I could stay with you" Jack reasoned.

"Yeah-yes, of course" You spoke a little too fast, thankful you won't have to be alone.

That night was quite, Jack made dinner for the two of you and he enlightened you with the knowledge that '10 Things I Hate About You' is his favorite rom-com, that brought a genuine smile to your face.

To jack though, that smile was equivalent to a star exploding and creating a new galaxy.

After you went to your room for the night, you lingered a little bit on the other side of your door, taking a deep breath and wondering how you got this lucky, maybe, just maybe, the universe decided to cut you some slack.

Unfortunately however, you had a rough night sleeping.

Your back was turned away from your bathroom since you couldn't quite get yourself to go in there yet, Jack mentioned he cleaned it up a tad while you were in inpatient, but you still couldn't find the strength. Sadly for you, that meant sleeping on the side of your body that was least comfortable to you, just to get away from facing the music.

You sat up straight in bed and looked over at the clock that now blinks a harsh red light of 5:15am. Your warm feet hit the cold floor as you got out of bed and made your way into the short hallway towards the living room, you secretly hoped Jack was awake — to your genuine surprise, he was.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks sincerely sitting up from his position on the air mattress, "this is weird, but- uh, I don't wanna sleep alone" you finish weakly.

Jack is quick to lift the blanket up on the side that is empty, a gesture to invite you in. You felt ashamed to be doing this, having to sleep in someone else's bed to keep the bad thoughts away felt childish, stupid even, but as you climbed in next to him you felt the warmest you ever had.

You curled into his side, seeking comfort in his arms,

In return he pulls you taut against his chest while rubbing your arm, giving you a quiet "I got you" before you were finally taken away to dreamland. Jack stayed awake a little longer after you, memorizing the way your body felt against his with each breath you took.

The both of you woke up roughly at the same time, tangled in each others limbs. Jack pulled you against him with a gentle squeeze, "Sleep well?" he asked with a sleepy smile. "Yeah, thanks" you responded than got out of the bed and padded towards the kitchen where your toothbrush sat next to the sink.

Unconventional sure, but so was a lot of what you did these last couple of days.

Jack also brushed his teeth in the kitchen along side you, hoping it made you feel less weird with someone else doing it to. "So, I have to go to the hospital to grab something, you gonna be okay here?" Jack's concern always melted you even though it was common human decency.

"Oh, yeah, I'll be okay, swear" you said with a reassuring grin that didn't meet your eyes. You understood why he was hovering, and you weren't upset about it in anyway, but you were thrilled to have just a little time to yourself. You were watched for 24 hours straight for three full days, finally being able to breath with no lingering eyes was going to be great.

Once Jack left you felt weird, you hadn't been alone in a room in what felt like an eternity and you weren't quite sure what to do with this refound freedom. So, you did what you always did when you were overwhelmed and cleaned, the kitchen had a few things out of place from dinner last night. Your room was a disaster with what looked like a laundry bomb had exploded and covered your sanctuary in dirty clothes, so you decided what a better way to distract yourself then to do laundry.

You knew you needed to take a shower, and you were hitting yourself for not getting the other floor plan of "2 bath 1 bed" option but you figured you wouldn't need it. Now you were here, trying to hype yourself up to shower in the same bathroom you thought would be the last thing you ever saw.

Luckily for you there was a knock on the door, well you thought you were lucky.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" You were shocked to see your mother who lived halfway across the country to be at your doorstep. "What were you thinking?" she greeted with an angry tone bubbling under her voice, normal mothers would be over the moon at their child still breathing, but not her.

"Mom, please I don't want to argue about this" You pleaded with exhaustion, this wasn't a confrontation you wanted to deal with right now. You were physically and emotionally drained from the last four days and you just wanted to turn your mind off and give your body rest.

"How could you be so stupid, you have your whole life ahead of you, and you want to make a selfish decision like that?" Her voice echoing through your mind.

Selfish.

Stupid.

Every horrible adjective she could think of she was hurling at you.

"Please leave, I can't do this right now" You tried to shut the door on her but she held her hand out to block it, she forced her way in and continued to exclaim how much of a disappointment you had become, which had been exactly what you were most afraid of.

You couldn't think as you tried to get her out of your apartment, begging her to jut leave and that you would call her later. She just wouldn't listen, wouldn't agree to let you be.

That was when your saving grace came in, Jack had quickly opened the door when he heard voices reverberating throughout the building, "what the hell is going on here?" he exclaimed loudly over the voice of your mother.

"Who are you?" your mother asked, wide eyed at the foreign man in her daughters apartment.

"He is the only one who has actually gives a single shit about me being alive, so please mom, get the fuck out of my home" you said sternly, now crying.

She looked at you with a disgust in her eye before huffing and leaving your apartment, pushing past Jack aggressively.

Jack was stunned to say the least but that didn't last long before he was closing and locking the door then walking over to your shaking form. You were sobbing hysterically, your breathing was unstable and you couldn't catch your breath. "Baby, you gotta slow down, you're hyperventilating" Jack said steadily trying to calm your unsteady breaths.

"I-I think I'm g-g-gonna be sick" You gagged out, Jack was fast to react and quickly lead you to the bathroom.

The bathroom.

Everything was so overwhelming. Mind was racing with a million thoughts a second, dry heaving into the toilet. You could feel Jack's hand rubbing circles on your spine, "I know baby, I know" He comforted you, wishing nothing more than to take you away from this pain.

As you finished up you leaned back into Jack's chest, you had long stopped crying. The feeling only being replaced with exhaustion, Jack talked you into getting up off the floor.

"I need to shower" you say plainly, no emotion found in your raw voice.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it, holler if you need-" Jack was caught off by your small voice, "could you help me?" your eyes never met him as you requested his assistance. "Of course" He replied.

There was nothing sexual about this, you were distraught and just needed someone to wash your hair and keep you afloat. Jack suggested a bath for you instead, to which you agreed, feeling stupid after forgetting his leg. You tried to apologize but he refused to hear it, joking about how he's learned to walk on the prosthetic so well you forgot it was on him.

It drew a quiet laugh, a sound only meant for him to hear.

He took his time with you, keeping your comfort at the forefront of his mind, letting you wash your own body and eyes never once wondering. Focused on the mission at hand, like he was back in the military.

You sat in the warmth of the bath for a while with Jack sitting right there next to you, he opted in reading a book — the one that rested on your nightstand — aloud.

He got through three chapters before you mentioned you wanted to get out.

Jack held out his hand for you to take, helping your unstable legs out of the tub and wrapping a towel around your midsection, covering your naked body. He left the bathroom to allow you to dress yourself whilst he patiently waited on your bed, Jack knew you were going to be exhausted so he got your bed ready to slide into.

You crawled into bed sluggishly, your body giving out the moment it hit the soft silk sheets. Cold hands touched Jack's skin making him jolt slightly at the unexpected touch, quickly though he knew what you wanted and he settled in right beside you.

"I don't wanna feel like this anymore" your words rang through Jack's ears like the sound of a gunshot, sharp and painful.

"We'll get through this, I'll be here for you the whole time" Jack responded.

"What about after I feel better?" you wondered.

"Let's talk about that when you're feeling better, okay?" he smiled at you then kissed your forehead and urged you to rest.

The world around you became more bearable with every moment Jack spent with you, giving you a support system to lean on had been detrimental to your recovery and mental health.

Jack came by your place nearly everyday after staying with you for about a week and a half, coming to kick it and watch a movie while debriefing about the shift, or bringing you some food on your days off — you knew it was his way of making sure you were properly eating, but you didn't mind.

After six months of mandated therapy you were finally back to working your normal shift schedules, back to the high of being in the ER. You graduated med school last month, and luckily matched with PMTC for your residency in emergency medicine.

You jumped with joy when you got your match, Jack attended the ceremony with you and helped calm your nerves of not getting the program you wanted. He explained that no matter what happened you were going to be okay, and it would be great for you — but secretly he was hoping more than you were that you would stay at PMTC.

The night had been a drag, nothing adrenaline inducing was introduced.

Shen was on his way to get yet another iced coffee when a trauma came in, your feet were in front of you before you could think about the idea of walking. Quickly racing over to your new patient and began accessing for external injuries.

However, as you heard the paramedics talk to Jack, you heard one word.

Overdose.

Everything all around you went quiet, loud ringing replacing the continuous beeping of vital monitors and groaning patients.

You removed yourself from the situation having Ellis take your position, she didn't complain or wonder — not that there was anytime to do so — she just nodded her head and gave you a subtle reassuring arm squeeze while you went to the closest private spot in the hospital, which was a single empty employee bathroom.

Your chest was heaving in a way you knew all too well, uneasy and hard.

Suddenly, your body was warm with sweat, everything felt like it was closing in on you, the room felt like it was getting smaller.

Was it getting smaller? No. No, of course not.

Trying to ground yourself you gripped the cold ceramic of the sink, the sensation feeling like a shock to your system at the night and day difference. Deep breaths were fighting through your airways to escape, but they just couldn't get out — your eyes were beginning to grow dark in the peripheral.

A knock at the door bounced against the walls of your head but you were too far away to acknowledge it, you wanted to open the door but the idea of moving anywhere felt like a death-wish.

You gently sat yourself down on the cold tile of the floor, not quite caring how unsanitary of a place that would be for you. All you could think about was the night you were brought in that horrible night 6 months ago, wanting nothing more than your time of death to be called.

Now, you were here. On the other side of what could've been, forced to look at the very same fate you had chosen for yourself. Too much. That was all you could think. This is too fucking much.

The door was opened gently, a muscled figure appeared in front of your eyesight bending down next to you.

First you felt his warm hand on your own, bringing your wondering mind back down to earth with his. Gently, Jack brought your hand to his chest; forcing you to feel the way his body inhaled, then exhaled, inhale, exhale. He didn't speak, didn't need to, the man was well aware of your mental state at this moment and you getting enough oxygen to your head was more important to him.

It took you a few more minutes of the continuous guidance before you finally came to. "I'm sorry" You whispered, feeling like more of a burden than ever, you can't just breakdown in a place like this, it's unethical.

Jack thought differently though, "don't you dare, it's only been six months sweetheart." He paused for a minute, bringing your face right in front of his, "this is a very, very, valid reaction to seeing a situation you were just in not long ago."

He took a deep breath before speaking again.

"The first time a patient came here in need of an amputation, I reacted the same way, knowing what this kid was going through. It killed me." His voice cracked but he stayed firm, "You are allowed to feel things, you did the right thing by stepping away, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, wrong with you."

You held his gaze for a while, maybe searching his eyes for annoyance but you never found it. All he held for you was love.

Taking one final deep breath and closing your eyes with a new found acceptance of your feelings, the two of you got up from the hard tile and left the bathroom together. Luckily, no one was around to gossip about Dr. Abbot and the new resident suddenly leaving a lockable bathroom together.

As the shift carried on you overheard a nurse talking about the patient who overdosed on some opioids, saying how she would make a full recovery. Realistically, she wasn't your patient therefore you had no right to go into the room they settled her in but you made the decision to do so anyways.

Stepping into the quiet room you immediately felt the heaviness way down on your bones, you looked around the curtain to see a young girl, no older than twenty, looking at the wall with no expression on her gray appearance.

"Hello, I'm Dr. L/n, I came in to check on you. Any excess pain anywhere, or confusion?" You asked timidly, this isn't what you came in here for but you needed to make her feel safe.

She answered with a slow shake of her head, still not acknowledging you.

You took a seat in the room with her, though you did decide to check and log her vitals you took the next step in talking with her more in-depth.

"You know, we aren't really supposed to come in here and talk to patients like this, but you remind me of myself and I want you to know if you wanna talk, we can" You paused for a beat, letting the woman digest what you were saying. "I can also leave you alone if that is what you would like, I just figured, maybe having someone who was in this position to talk to would help you not feel so isolated, if you need absolutely anything do not hesitate to hit that call button" finishing your spiel, you definitely didn't mean to go on and probably wasn't very helpful to the patient, you got up and began making your way towards the door.

"You ever feel like, like you're drowning?" a small voice filled the silent room.

"All the time" you replied stopping short and sitting right back down.

"How do I stop feeling like this?"

Her question broke your heart, not only because of how hopeless she sounded but that you didn't know the answer, you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

"I still feel it sometimes, that growing ache in your body and the voice in your head that just won't stop, but you find something or someone to grab ahold of, to keep your head above water and hold you afloat when your legs ache from fighting the waves. I wish I could tell you there was a cure, but I can't." The back of your throat became dry but you fought through it, "life is an abusive piece of shit, but you can fight it, there is people who haven't met you yet that will love you till their heart gives out, you just have to hold on."

She looked at you like time had stopped and only the two of you existed, like something clicked in her head. "What happens now?" she asks, voice less constricted than it had been.

"You will be taken to the psychiatric ward, if you consent to that, and you will fight through this" the hard truth slipped out at the end, soft isn't what this girl reacted to.

"Is it rude to ask you, what happened to you?" she queried.

"Long story short, it was a bad time, but I survived it, and so will you."

[writingsonsaturn]

hope y’all are ready for a longer fic, just i’m only half way done and it’s already 2k words, which isn’t a lot but i’m impressed by it

[writingsonsaturn]

Break In

Summary: Someone breaks in while reader is home alone but her boyfriend isn't too happy when he finds out she called him first...

Pairing: Tim Bradford x reader

Word Count: 1,800ish

Warnings: language, break-in

A/N: My first Tim fic! If you're a fan of The Rookie, check it out and let me know what you think!

________

Your eyes were closed, music quietly playing through your bluetooth speaker, warm bubbly water surrounding you. It was Friday night and while you would have loved to have been spending it curled up in your boyfriend’s lap while he tried and failed once again to get you interested in the baseball you’d have been inevitably watching…a self-care night was in full swing while he worked a double.

*NYSNC came over the speakers as you sunk lower into the water, smirking as you wondered what you’d have to do to get Tim to take a bubble bath. Probably a back massage or the promise of-

Something crashed outside the shut door, your eyebrow raising. You turned off the speaker, listening intently, a quiet creak of the floorboards at the end of the hallway. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Someone was in the house. No, someone had broken into your house. While you were very naked in a tub with no way to defend yourself.

Don’t freeze up.

Some voice in your head had you moving without thinking. You stepped onto the towel on the floor, not caring about the water you splashed everywhere. You tugged the robe on the back of the door on, quietly locking the door. The floor creaked again, farther away this time, your pulse sharp, painful. You looked around, flipping off the window. Sure, you maybe could have crammed your body through but you really didn’t feel like cutting yourself up before falling fifteen feet to your driveway below.

You snatched your phone and wide paddle hairbrush off the counter, pressing your back against the door. Maybe it wouldn’t do much but at least you’d get one good crack in if somebody came inside.

With wet, shaky fingers you hit the number you’d last dialed and held it to your ear. It rang and rang and rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Tim Bradford. Leave a message.” You re-dialed, heart hammering as another crash, this time glass, echoed throughout the house. You turned off the bathroom light, gripping the phone tight. “Tim Bradford. Leave a message.”

“Pick up the damn phone,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes tight when it went to voicemail a third time. Something broke outside and you cancelled the next call, instead hitting 911 and hoping the cops got there before whoever the hell was in your house found you.

Tim POV

“You’re welcome, ma’am.” I gave her a nod before jogging down her front steps and back towards the shop. A gust of cold wind whipped across the yard, unusual for this time of year. I’d have to throw on my jacket tonight.

“...code 3 at 4192 Sunset Ridge,” crackled over the radio on my hip. I froze for only a moment, ripping my radio off my belt as I ran to the shop and slid behind the wheel.

“7 Adam 15, can you repeat that…” I trailed off as I saw my phone on the dash, four missed calls from Y/N appearing.

“There’s a code 3 at 4192 Sunset Ridge. Home owner reported a B&E. Suspect is inside. Home owner is unable to leave the-”

“Fuck,” I said, hitting the gas, dialing with one hand. “Y/N, pick up the damn phone.”

“Hi. You’ve reached Y/N. Please leave your name and-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I slammed the gas, blowing through an intersection. “Be okay, please be okay.”

Reader POV

“I’m not in trouble am I?” you asked after giving your statement seven minutes later, the officer taking your statement giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Oh no. You acted in self-defense,” he said, screeching tires outside on the street making you both turn your heads towards the open front door. “Stay there a second.”

He stepped outside, allowing you to follow. You peaked your head around him when you heard some sort of commotion. You stepped on the front stoop beside the officer, the man mid run across your front lawn coming up short, staring at you.

“Sergeant? What-” The officer was ignored as Tim walked quickly over and up the steps, breathing hard. 

“Are you okay?” he asked loudly and a little harsh. You glanced at the officer and nodded. Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, one hand on his hip. “If someone breaks in your damn house, you call 911. Immediately. Not me. 911. Children know that for fucks sake.”

“Well fuck you,” you shot back, flipping him off, turning to the officer. “I want this asshole off my damn property.”

“You’re mad at me?” Tim scoffed, the officer trying to back away but you grabbed his arm. 

“I want this insensitive ass gone. Now,” you growled. Tim shot the officer a look, the man shrugging you off.

“Just a wild guess but are you and Sergeant Bradford by chance dating?” he asked calmly. 

“Nolan, leave before I demote you.” The officer scurried away, leaving the two of you glaring at one another. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Why are you yelling at me for calling my cop boyfriend who does patrol in my neighborhood? It was less than a minute before I called 911. Forgive me for not being one of your trained boots and instead hoping my boyfriend would, oh I don’t know, make me feel better when I’m scared shitless right now.”

You stormed inside, going to the kitchen and getting a beer from the fridge.

A gentle hand grasped your wrist, setting the bottle down on the counter. You frowned and turned your head, Tim pulling you into his chest. “Bradford-“

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“You already asked me that.”

“Y/N,” he sighed. You shrugged, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I smacked a guy with my hairbrush and broke his nose…and then I kicked him in the balls and might have bruised his dick…and I don’t feel safe here.”

“That is…impressive and you are staying at my place tonight with me.”

You were about to argue that being alone at his place wasn’t any better but it finally registered what he said. You leaned back and stared up at him. “But you’re working.”

“Just trust me.”

Forty minutes later you were on Tim’s couch in one of his shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. He was talking on the phone before it went quiet and you were greeted to him walking out of the hall in a pair of sweatpants and nothing more. He slipped a smile on his face and took a seat on the couch beside you. 

“Are you in trouble because you left work early?” you mumbled, flicking your finger over a thread that was coming loose on one of his decorative pillows. He sighed, your head turning away when you felt strong arms wrap around your middle and pull you into his side. “Heaven forbid the great Tim Bradford get a mark on his perfect record. I’m fine. Just go back to work.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re fine but I’m not.” You scrunched up your face but didn’t turn to look back at him. A finger grazed over your cheek, his forehead resting against the back of yours, warm breath fanning over your hair. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I am. But you know I’m…working on my communication skills. I panicked and that’s not something I can do in my job, even when I’m terrified, I have to keep that in check.”

“So what does that mean? You need a smarter girlfriend who calls 911 first?” you said, closing your eyes when he tensed. “Sorry, that was bitchy.”

“All I’m saying is I’m not in the right headspace to go back to work and be safe and you always tell me be safe at work so I’m just doing as told.” You closed your eyes as he kept both arms around you, sliding you into his lap and against his chest. “I’m not picking a fight. I just want to know why you called me first?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought you could get there faster since you were working or you could tell me what to do but I mean, it was like thirty seconds at most before I stopped trying you. You made me feel like a moron in front of people you work with. People who apparently don’t even know who I am after dating for six months.”

“Can you forgive me?” You rested your head on his shoulder, turning into it. He tucked your head under his chin, his skin warm and flush from his shower.

“Yeah. Don’t treat me like that again and I won’t call you in emergencies.” 

“Uh, that is not what I want. You absolutely call me, just call the authorities first.” You threw your head back, looking up at him with a frown. His smile was more teasing now, eyes gentler. “Got all that?”

“You’re annoying,” you grumbled, unwrapping your arms from yourself, giving his body a good squeeze. “But I forgive you.”

“Great. Tomorrow we’ll sign you up for a self-defense class.” You spun out of his hold, Tim holding up his hands as you glared. “I’m joking.”

“Are you? Because I already broke one man’s dick tonight,” you said. He glanced down to where your hand was resting on his stomach, the gears turning in his head. 

“Yeah, but you like my dick. You wouldn’t-” He chocked on his words when you slid your hand down over him. He coughed, swallowing once. “No class, unless you ever wanted to, but that’s totally your call. Honey.”

“Smart boy,” you said, patting his dick lightly and settling back in. He was quiet as he turned on his baseball game and tugged a blanket off the back of the couch over the two of you. You half-watched the game, your mind drifting back to the break-in every few moments. 

“How many square feet is your house again?” he asked out of the blue. You rattled off a number, Tim humming. 

“Why?” 

“Because you can threaten my dick all you want but I am installing a security system for you tomorrow.” You spotted him typing on his phone, adding two more motion sensors to the cart for whatever system he was on. You smiled, sitting up and interrupting his order to cup his cheeks and kiss him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For a second I thought you were going to ask me to move in with you.”

“Eventually,” he countered, tucking the blanket around you further. “But I don’t want to stick a band-aid on this either. Anyone capable of breaking a dick should be confident enough to sleep alone…with a brand new alarm system.”

“But still with frequent sleepovers.”

“Well, that’s just a given.” You sunk back down, starting to finally relax as head rested against yours. “You can sleep. I’ll be right here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

__________

[writingsonsaturn]

a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.

[writingsonsaturn]

“no one wants to read this” ok but you do. and that’s enough. and also wrong. i want to read it. hand it over

[writingsonsaturn]

No Man's Land Part 5

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, and Part 4 here!

42k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: No super specific wedding details are given; some anxiety; very fluffy; Robby and Jake make up; Jack is a consent king; use of eyedrops; unprotected PIV sex (bc implied with relationship); oral sex (both m and f receiving); fingering; dom!Jack; manhandling; light condescension; bondage; use of your underwear as a gag; knife appears in the bedroom but is not used on anyone; doggy; alcohol; reader: loves champagne, sits on Jack’s lap, takes Jack’s last name, gets drunk, wears a dress; author: did not proofread, faded to black on a lot of sex, did not pick a wedding venue because I’m too picky; overwhelmingly NOT proofread; no use of y/n or related

Summary: You and Jack get married.

AN: And so we've reached the end. The wedding fought me every step of the way, so hopefully that is not reflected in the quality of it, lol. I'm sure part of it was some subconscious block because I don't want them to end. Honestly, it’s quite bittersweet and a little emotional posting this final part as silly as that makes me feel. I've just spent a lot of time in their heads. While Part 1 was not the first Jack fic I posted, it was the first one I worked on and the idea that got me writing again after a four years. Thank you all so so much for reading and supporting me along the way! ♥️ I would be nothing without you all, so truly, thank you for reading the copious amount of words this universe became. I hope it lives up and feels like the ending they deserve. ♥️

Jack’s forehead furrows as his eyebrows raise at your question. “Flew to Vegas tomorrow and elope?” He wants to make sure he heard you correctly. 

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together. You start chewing on your bottom lip and playing with your fingers in your lap. Jack knows you’re genuinely distressed right now and he hates it, hates that he caused it, even inadvertently. He sits up further, leans forward so that he’s closer to you where you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, I… I think,” Jack pauses, just needs another second. “I think you’ll regret it, not having the wedding. And don’t-” Jack reaches out and grabs your wrist gently so that you can’t get off the bed like you were moving to, he can already hear your brain attacking you. He finds your gaze again before he keeps talking. “Don’t think that means I don’t want to get married to you. I do. And if we decide we want to elope to Vegas or anywhere else, then I’m okay with that. As long as you end up my wife, okay? I’m not saying no, Doll.” He lets go of your wrist and grabs your hand, laces it with his. “I’m saying that I think we should sleep on it. I think you want the wedding we’ve planned so far and that you’re beyond exhausted and that your anxiety is driving your brain right now, yeah?” 

You just look at him, seem a little like you’re lost to your thoughts, not in them, to them. “I… yeah,” you whisper. 

Jack knows he needs to get you back in bed with him, get you close and help you find your way back and then to sleep. “Come here?” He pats your side of the bed next to him and gives you a little smile. “Please.” You release his hand and crawl over him, snuggle up under the covers into his side and bury your head in his neck. His arms wrap tightly around you and he kisses your temple. “Good girl,” he murmurs, “thank you.” 

You can’t help the way ‘good girl’ makes you shiver. Maybe that’s what you need, you think to yourself, to have Jack fuck you in a hard reset after the week you had. Being in his arms is more than enough though, has you calming and coming back to a state of rationality pretty quick. 

“We’ll sleep on it, okay? I promise we can talk about it in the morning and that I’m not saying no.” Jack clicks his tongue. “Could you pick your dress up early and bring it with us to wear in Vegas?” That makes you snort a laugh into the side of his neck. Jack smiles to himself, pleased he was able to get a laugh out of you. He rocks you a little playfully. “What? I’m dying to see you in your wedding dress.”

“I probably could, yeah.” You slide your hand down Jack’s bare chest a little, trace shapes with your finger, write little messages of love. “But no. We don’t need to sleep on it. I don’t even know what that was. I want what we’ve planned so far.”

Jack rubs your back with one hand. “I’ll check in with you on it tomorrow, okay? Just to be sure. And I think maybe a little panic and a lot of exhaustion. But you also don’t need to know what it was, yeah? It’s okay to not know.” 

You nod. “I just like knowing. Makes me feel like I have some control, which I know is a total fucking illusion.” You sigh into him, nuzzle against his neck. You like the way his stubble feels, it’s oddly grounding for you. “I hate this. Being like this.” 

Jack bites back the urge to say you’re not being like anything because he knows what you mean. Knows you mean you hate feeling so emotionally labile and panicking and feeling out of control. “I know, Doll.” He doesn’t need to say more. It’s not the time. It’s not why you said it. You just need to feel heard and seen. Jack uses his hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from him a little so that he can see you. “Can I do anything?”

You look at him and then to the side as you think. Think back on the flash of a thought you had. Maybe you should ask him to, ask him to fuck you into a hard reset. He does it so well. Knows just how to fuck until you’re sobbing and releasing every pent up emotion in you, and keeps going, fucking you thoughtless and incoherent and unable to feel or think about anything other than him. Knows how to break your mind in just the right way to get all of your emotional turmoil out. Knows how to take his time putting you back together with his touch and his words and his love so that you feel like the normal version of yourself when you wake up the next day, not however you had been feeling. 

He always takes such good care of you after even if the memories of it are so heavily fogged they almost don’t truly exist. He holds you while you keep sobbing, lays on you often, his body weight helping with your shaking, cleans you up, makes sure you get to the bathroom and have some water and sometimes a snack before you fall asleep, whispers reassurances and little expressions of his love while he rocks you until you fall asleep, holds you the entire night as you sleep curled up on him. 

Yeah. You think that just might do the trick, especially with as exhausted as you are and how hard he’ll make you sleep. 

Your eyes find Jack’s again, his eyebrows slightly raised. He knows you thought of something with how long you were looking away. Your expression, the look in your eye and the specific way you look at him makes him think he knows what you need. “Jack,” you whisper. Your voice confirms it. 

Still though. He wants to be explicitly sure so that he doesn’t start something you weren’t asking for that will actually hurt you or make you worse. “Fuck you all the way gone?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes already blown wide. “Please.” 

Jack nods, rolls the both of you so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you. “You’re sleeping until you wake up tomorrow. I’m not setting an alarm and I’m not waking you up when I wake up. And if you wake up at a time I deem to be too early you’re going back to sleep, even if I have to put you back to sleep myself.” He drops his hips against you then and grinds against you as if you didn’t already know what he meant. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you breathe.

Six weeks. Only six weeks left until the wedding. It feels so short and so long at the same time. Pretty much everything is planned, everything you could possibly do up to this point is done. It’s just a waiting game for the next couple of weeks. 

You’d worked late tonight so you went to the hospital instead of home, planning on surprising Jack and suggesting you grab dinner somewhere if he was up to it after his shift. If not, maybe you could grab takeout on the way home. 

When you found Jack he was finishing some charting at the desk and talking to Robby. Somewhere along the lines the conversation between the three of you turned to your bachelor and bachelorette parties.  

“No strippers.” Jack glances up at Robby from the computer. 

“Okay.” Robby nods. 

Jack looks up at him again. “No strippers.” His eyes return to the computer.

“No strippers.” Robby nods again. He doesn’t even sound facetious. Something about the interaction so far is quite entertaining to you. 

“Hey,” Jack looks up at him again, “I’m serious. No strippers. She won’t even be the mad one. I will be. No strippers.” 

“Peter, he agreed the last two times.” Jack looks over at you and blinks as you nod. You know you should stop there but you can’t help yourself. You shrug, try and look nonchalant. “He’s seen my boobs, he knows you don’t need to be looking at any stripper’s tits.” 

Jack’s head whips back over to Robby, eyes glaring just a little at his best friend. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, I never said that.” Robby holds up his hands. “She did. I didn’t even think about that. I was simply respecting the boundary you set when you said no strippers for your bachelor party.” Robby brings his hands back down and shrugs. “But again, they’re very nice b-”

“I,” Jack interrupts Robby loudly to get him to stop talking before returning to a normal voice, glaring daggers at him now, “will cancel the entire party and find someone else to officiate our wedding if you finish that fucking sentence Michael.”

You struggled to hide your laughter the second Robby started to say you have nice boobs again but Jack’s reaction pulls an audible laugh from you. Both Robby and Jack turn to look at you. “I just,” you shrug, “you guys are funny.” It didn’t escape your notice when Myrna moved in closer. You and her shared a conspiratorial look, something you seem to often do when you’re together.

“You know,” Myrna interjects. All three sets of eyes find her in her chair a little behind Jack and Robby. “I could show Fruitcake my tits. Then they’d be the last pair he saw.”

“Thank you, Myrna, that would be perfect.” Jack smiles at her genuinely before looking to Robby with an overly saccharine smile. 

“Absolutely not. Put,” Robby emphasizes the word and shuts his eyes “your shirt down Myrna.” She’d started to pull it up. He opens his eyes and looks at Jack. “The officiant threat? It works both ways.”

Robby turns and starts to walk away and Jack snorts making Robby stop and turn back around. “Oh please, you love us and her white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies far too much to even dream of it, Michael.”

“Don’t worry Fruitcake, you can have some of this cookie.” Myrna tells Robby with a suggestive eyebrow raise and smirk before starting to wheel herself away.

Jack bites back his laughter and holds his hands up in truce at that one. He goes to say something but Robby stops him. 

“Just don’t.” Robby holds his hand up at Jack. “Just don’t say anything and we’re all going to leave and you’re going to buy me several drinks.” 

Jack looks over at you, eyebrows raised, smirking. “I suppose I did kind of start it, didn’t I?” You admit with a nod. “A few drinks seems fair.” 

The wedding is in five weeks, just over a month. It’s all you can think about as Jack drives you to Dana’s house. It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve been invited over for a little party for Dana to show off the kitchen remodel they just finished on the house. 

“Did she say if lots of people are coming?” you ask Jack. 

Jack shrugs. “She didn’t, no. Just said to show up with you.” You smile at that. Sounds like Dana. 

“Hey, are you doing the whole something old something new thing?” Jack asks.  “I heard a patient discussing it yesterday and it made me wonder.”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it I guess.” You think on it for a few seconds and then shrug. “I mean I guess I’d like to but no, probably not. Where would I get that stuff from, you know? I don’t want to ask anything else of anyone, everyone has already done so much for us.”

Jack hums in acknowledgment. “People would if you asked. Without hesitation or feeling burdened.”

“I know, but still. It’s really not a huge deal.” You look over at Jack and squeeze his hand where it rests on your thigh. “It’s not like we’re doing all of the wedding traditions.”

“No we most certainly are not.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you with a bit of a lopsided grin. Jack turns down the street and finds a place to park. “Time to go see how many people showed.” He gets out of the car and walks around to open your door for you, gives you a kiss as you get out. 

The two of you walk hand in hand up to Dana’s door and knock. “Hi!” Dana throws the door open. “So glad you could make it!” You’re both ushered in as you exchange hellos and hugs. Jack and Dana share a look as you set your purse down on the credenza with your back to them. 

“Well! Lead the way! I’m excited to see it, especially since you wouldn’t tell me which granite you settled on.” You throw her a look. 

She laughs, starts walking you through the hallway towards the kitchen. But the three of you stop once you hit the living room. 

The living room is decorated in bridal shower decor, a banner reading ‘bride to be’ hanging from the mantel and sitting and standing and mingling amongst it all are a few of your coworkers who you’re close to, your friend, and many of the Pitt crew, Victoria, Samira, Cassie, Mel, Heather, Kim, Parker and Princess. A chorus of soft ‘surprise!’ rings out as everyone looks at you and tips their cups to you. You smile and give a little wave, still shocked and struggling a bit to process. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “Dana?” You look over at her questioningly. “You didn’t… this is… wow.” A surprise bridal shower for you. A genuine, you had no fucking clue you weren’t coming here for a get together to show off the remodeled kitchen, surprise. 

“Surprise!” Dana laughs. 

“Yeah,” you laugh out incredulously. You turn to Jack. “Did you know?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You can tell from the lack of surprise on his face that he did. 

“I did, but only for like a week,” Jack explains. You give him a lingering look of bewilderment mixed with incredulity before turning back to Dana. 

“Dana, this is so much.” You shake your head at her a little. “This must have been so much work, I… thank you, I just, I don’t know, I don’t know what to say.” You laugh a little. 

Jack slips away to give you and Dana a moment, goes back to the front door to wait for you to come say goodbye. He smiles to himself. He’s glad Dana ended up planning one for you. She’d asked him off-hand months ago if you were planning one and he’d told her no, you weren’t, but he thought your friend might try to. He didn’t hear anything else about it until last week when she revealed the kitchen party was really a bridal shower for you.

“You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is come have a good time with us.” Dana smirks at you. “We have so much champagne to get through.” That makes you smile. You love champagne. “And it’s real champagne, not sparkling wine.” She winks at you. 

“Oh I’m sure it’s amazing, I just, I don’t know I feel bad because you guys already threw us such an amazing engagement party, and now this and you really didn’t have to. I love it and appreciate it so much, I just hope you didn’t feel like you had to since I wasn’t planning one.” Your brows and forehead are furrowed in concern. 

The engagement party wasn’t a surprise, you and Jack knew about it from the beginning. You just weren’t involved in the planning, were given a date and time and eventually a place to show up to. It had been beautiful, incredibly you and Jack, and so obvious how well those who planned it knew you as individuals and a couple. You couldn’t have planned a better one for yourselves. Nor would you have, but you were both told that everyone wanted to celebrate the two of you and if nothing else it was a reason for a party. It had been perfect. And you know this bridal shower will be too. You’re still just floored.

“I didn’t at all.” Dana smiles at you, gives you another hug. “And I wasn’t involved in the planning of the engagement party, that was all Robby and Heather and Mel, so it’s not like I’m pulling double duty. Plus I had a lot of help.” She glances over at your friend who tips her drink at you again with a smirk. Dana releases you but keeps her hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “Come on, go say goodbye to your man and then you can see the granite while you get some food and a drink.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” You manage to catch one of her hands when she takes them off your shoulders. “I mean it,” you squeeze her hand, “it really means so much to me and to Jack and I know I can be bad at expressing it. So thank you.” 

Dana smiles at you warmly in that way she does, eyes knowing and head bowing just a little to make it knowing. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, let me say goodbye to Jack!” You turn from Dana and walk back into the hallway where Jack’s standing waiting for you, pleased smile on his face. “I can’t believe you knew.” You shake your head at him. 

“Keeping that secret was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I only knew for a week. I wanted to tell you so badly.” He laughs a little, wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close and you rest your hands on his chest. “But you deserve this. The surprise. The shower. I know you think you don’t and I know me saying you do isn’t going to convince you, but you do.” He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Enjoy yourself, yeah?”

You nod. “I always do with everyone here.” 

Jack laughs a little. “Good. I expect to hear all about it later.” 

“I’ll do my best to take notes for you.” You give him a little smirk for a second and then let your face even back out. “You picking me up?”

“Course,” he nods, “just call me when you’re ready Doll.”

“Okay.” The two of you share one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” You both walk over to the door and Jack steps out. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

A month. Only a month until the wedding. It’s swirling in Jack’s mind as he sits on the couch reading with the quiet buzz of the police scanner in the background when his phone goes off. He half expects it to be a message asking him to come get you from whatever bar or club it is you ended up at. 

Y - u come dwn

Y - ?

Y - pls

An amused smile makes its way onto Jack’s face. He’s seen you pretty tipsy before and it looks like he will be again. He thinks it’s cute the way you asked him to come down, how you knew he’d be up and waiting for you even though it’s 2:30 a.m. 

J - I’ll be waiting. 

Jack is only waiting outside for a few minutes before an SUV driven by Dana’s husband rolls up. He and Jack exchange knowing smiles and shake their heads. Jack walks over to the back door and can hear all the giggles before he even opens it. 

“Peter!” You beam at him, reaching for him with both hands as you sit on the seat of the car with your legs hanging out for a minute. “Hi! I missed you so much!” you giggle. Jack takes in your quite dilated pupils and the way you slur your words a bit and extremely giggly affect.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk,” Jack laughs to himself as he takes your hands and helps you get out of the car, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist to help support and stabilize you as he gets you on the sidewalk.

The driver’s window rolls down. “They’re all more or less three sheets to the wind. The rest are sleeping in our guest room because I don’t trust them alone at home and don’t think they have partners. I’m glad one of them,” Dana’s husband points at you and smirks, “had the sense to call me and not an uber.”

Jack glances at you. “Yeah, I am too.”

“I was gonna call you but D has a bigger car an’ we could all fit,” you giggle, words slurring together as you lean further into Jack. Someone rolls the window down and Dana, your friend, Heather, and Samira’s heads become visible to varying extents.

Jack looks at them and then back at you and then back to Dana’s husband. “Good luck and godspeed.” Jack nods at him before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, Doll, let’s get you to bed.”

You take in a gasping breath and stand up a little straighter at his words, hands grabbing at the chest of Jack’s shirt. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea, Dr. Abbot. Do y’know how hot you are? Do I tell you enough? Look at him.” You look over at the window. “Wait no don’t he’s mine.” A second later you gasp. “Oh my god and he’s like your boss. Mostly. Kinda.” That makes you all burst into giggles again.

“Okay,” Jack drawls, he already knows his version of bed and yours are two very different things, “say goodnight.” 

“Goodnight! I love you all! Thank you! Debrief tomorrow!” You let go of Jack’s shirt with both hands to blow them all kisses and Jack’s quick to hold you even tighter as you sway now that you’re not holding onto him. You turn with Jack and start walking in, his arm never leaving your waist and hold on you never loosening. 

Getting you inside and to the bedroom is easier than Jack expected. You’re not super unsteady on your feet when he’s helping support you and guiding you. He’s never seen you this drunk, not that you’re blackout drunk by any means, he’s just never seen you like this. He finds it quite adorable, even if it’s a little difficult to keep your attention. 

Once you’re in your room Jack has you stand by the edge of the bed, planning on starting to take your clothes off so he can get you off to sleep. “You know you haven’t even kissed me?” You pout at him. 

Jack gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you inside safely.” He tilts your chin up and leans down and into you. “Come here,” he murmurs. His kisses are short but filled with so much reverence you could drown in it.

“Jack,” you sigh happily, get your lips on his neck and start to kiss and suck as your hands begin to wander. “Please.”

Jack laughs a little to try and cover the groan he can’t help but make when you manage to nibble at his neck. He pulls back up and looks at you. “Please what, Doll?”

“Please fuck me into next week.” 

“Mm,” Jack gives you a gentle smile and shakes his head, “you, my love, are far too drunk to consent to sex right now, as much as I would love to fuck you into next week.” 

“Jackie!” you whine, pout harder than he’s ever seen. It’s so adorable it’s a bit comical and he stifles a laugh. Maybe if he sees you naked, your drunk brain thinks, maybe then. 

You start taking off your clothes and the only reason he allows it is because he needs to get them off of you. Once you’re completely undressed you bite your lip when he starts to take his shirt off, thrilled your plan worked and ready to surge forward and suck hickies into his chest once he gets his pajama pants off. That’s why you’re so confused when Jack holds his shirt out for you. You only question it for a second though, drunk and horny brain thinking he just wants to fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt. 

You giggle at him. “So dirty, want me in your shirt. Want me to ride you too?” Your slurring is adorably intermittent. 

Jack shakes his head at you with an amused smirk. “I’d like you to come into the bathroom with me so I can take your makeup off.”

“Jack!” It’s a drawn out whine that almost makes his name two syllables this time. “We’re engaged.” You bring your left hand up towards his face and he has to grab your wrist gently to stop you from accidentally shoving your hand in his face. “See? That’s blanket consent.” You wink at him, or at least attempt to.

Jack laughs through his nose, smiling and shaking his head at you. “That’s not how that works, Doll.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and lean back on your elbows, open your legs for him a bit. “I think yes it is.” 

“I know no it’s not.” Jack raises his brows at you and gives you a little look with a small smile.

“Well I’m sayin’ yes,” you slur defiantly.  

“Doll, you are too drunk to say yes and have it mean yes. So I’m saying no, okay? First thing in the morning.” Jack gives you a little smiled grimace, trying to keep it light and tease you a little about the hangover he’s sure you’ll have. “If you’re feeling up to it.” 

But the humor doesn’t land and exactly what he was worried about happening happens. 

“You don’t want me?” It’s suddenly far more serious, your voice dripping with some real hurt, real insecurity. 

“I always want you.” Jack crouches down and holds your face in his hands, brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. “Hey,” he calls softly when you won’t meet his eyes. “Look at me.” You don’t. “Please? It’s important.” It takes a second but eventually you do as he asked and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gentle squeeze of your face. “I always want you. And if you weren’t drunk, absolutely, I’d already be inside you. Remember, I said you’re too drunk to consent as much as I would love to fuck you into next week?” You blink at him, vaguely recalling him making such a statement but eyeing him suspiciously. “I promise you I am very hard right now. So please believe me that this has nothing to do with whether I want you and am attracted to you because yes and yes, I promise you Doll. I always want you. Your trust in me to protect you and take care of you and respect you is something I want too. My wants are at odds right now.” Jack goes to say more but stops, shakes his head a little, smiles at you. “And I know you’re not really taking any of this in so I’m going to stop. But know that I always want you. Always.”

You’re silent for a moment and Jack is concerned you don’t believe him and trying to think of a different approach. “Okay, but I always want you.” You smirk at him, pulled from your sadness and back to giggly and horny and happy drunk. You grab his hands from your face and try to get them to grab your boobs but Jack won’t let you, pulling his hands away. “So it’s the same. So yes, we can. Yes, it means yes.” 

“That was a poor choice of words.” Jack sighs to himself and brings his chin to his chest for a second. “It’s not quite the same or what I meant.” He shakes his head at you. “As soon as you’re ready to and want to once you’re sober, okay?” You whine and go to say something, probably argue more. “I got your favorite Ben and Jerry’s today. You want to-”

You gasp and stand up, Jack following you up and his arms quickly encircling you to keep you from falling over. “Did you really?” 

Jack nods as he guides you back down so you’re sitting on the bed again. “I really did. How about you have some of that and some pedialyte and ibuprofen while I get your makeup off? And then we’ll sleep, yeah?”

“Okay. But only because you got Ben and Jerry’s.” You point at him in the overdramatic way only a drunk person can. 

“Good.” Jack smiles, leans down to kiss your forehead before starting to go to the kitchen. “Stay sitting here, okay? Please.” 

You hum your agreement. “At least one of us will be getting BJs tonight,” you mutter as he walks away. But Jack hears it and starts laughing. 

He turns back to you at the door, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as he looks at you. “I love you so much, you know that?” You nod at him and let yourself fall back onto the bed.

Two weeks later you’re standing at the desk in the Pitt chatting with Jack. It’s a common sight anymore. You’re waiting for Dana. She’s sneaking out early to go to your last dress fitting with you. The wedding is only two weeks away and while there’s of course last minute wedding stress, truly you’re more excited than anything, ready for it to be here and be Jack’s wife, take his last name. And Jack is just as excited, just as antsy for it to be here. 

“I can’t even see the shoes?” Jack gives you a little pout. It’s adorable and it honestly makes you consider showing him because he’s doing it here at work, in front of people. 

“You can’t even see the shoes,” you confirm, give his pushed out bottom lip a quick kiss. 

“You’re so mean to me having them right here in front of me in a bag and not letting me see!” He gestures at the bag, keeps giving you those puppy dog eyes that almost always work on you. Almost. 

You step a little closer to him and drop your voice so only he can hear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay Dr. Abbot?” You smirk when his jaw clenches and rolls. 

He leans in even closer, hunches a bit to bring your faces closer together. “By giving me a fashion show of your wedding dress and shoes?” He raises his eyebrows and gives you an encouraging smile and nod. He knows you’re most likely taking the dress home tonight. 

“Peter!” You smack at his chest playfully. 

“I had to try!” Jack straightens back up to his full height.

“Mhm,” you hum at him. “It’s too bad, you would have really liked my little make it up to you treat.” Another clench and roll of his jaw.

“Oh? And what would-”

“Oh, hey! You’re here, great.” Robby interrupts Jack who turns to stare daggers at him for interrupting his chance to find out what you had planned. “I uh, I need to talk to you both. Can we talk? Um, over here?”

Robby starts walking towards the family room and you and Jack exchange confused and slightly concerned looks before following him. Robby seems nervous, jumpy almost. Jack knows he hasn’t been like this all day, only just now. Robby holds open the door for you both, shuts it and sits across from you. 

He clears his throat and looks at you. “Jack already told you about Jake and I.” It’s a statement that picks up just slightly at the end as he seeks confirmation. 

“Yes and I’m so happy for you Robby, for both of you. I’d love to meet him when you’re ready, we could have you guys over or something.” You smile at him, warm and enthusiastic and genuine.

Jack had told you about Robby and Jake. Once he’d left your house the morning after Leah’s sister came in Robby had called Jake and Jake answered. And Jake agreed to meet up with Robby at Robby’s place to watch a game and talk some maybe. Apparently it had all come out then. Jack had been right. Robby had been trying to give Jake space and let Jake come back to him, but Jake wasn’t sure how to find his way back to Robby, how to ask Robby to forgive him or how to reach out and ask to hang out, not after everything he’d said that day. And since then over the last month things had been getting back closer to how they were before Pitt Fest between Robby and Jake, different, yes, for multiple reasons, but similar in the amount of talking and seeing each other. 

“Yeah, that would be great, I think he’d enjoy that. He’s asked about you Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “But, um, on that note, kind of, I was won-”

“He should come to the wedding!” You blurt it out and cut Robby off without even realizing it because you just had to say the thought as soon as it came into your head. “Oh my god.” You cover your hand with your mouth and Jack has to laugh. You remove your hand after a second. “I’m so sorry, I just had the thought and, and it doesn’t matter. Please, go on.” 

Robby’s stuck blinking at you for a moment. Jack looks at Robby and then you and then back to Robby and snorts a laugh. 

“He was about to ask if Jake could come to the wedding.”

You look at Jack and back to Robby. “Really?”

Robby nods. “Yeah. But it’s okay if he can’t, like if you don’t have the table space or dinner or any of that I know it’s like two weeks away and you probably can’t change numbers.”

“Of course he can come, we want him to come.” Jack gives Robby a bit of a you had to ask? look. 

“We booked extra spaces and food just in case. And he’s basically your son, he’s not just invited, we want him there! I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it and ask earlier-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Robby cuts you off with a bit of a laugh. “It means a lot that you guys want him there. I appreciate it.” He stands up. “That’s all I had, I just didn’t want you to feel awkward if you had to say no in the middle of the ED because of space or whatever.”

The second you step out someone is calling for Robby. “I’m being paged.” Robby raises his eyebrows and walks backwards for a second before turning around to walk off to where he’s needed. 

“Hey! There you are!” Dana calls, starts walking over to you. It’s strange seeing her in anything other than scrubs. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You turn back to Jack and lean up for a kiss and quick hug. “I’ll see you soon Peter, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jack returns your hug and kiss, but catches your wrist as you start to walk away. You turn and look back at him with a smile and raised brows. Jack looks serious with just a touch of what seems almost like desperation. “What was it? The make it up treat for me when I get home?”

Your smile shifts into a smirk as you pull your hand from him and walk backwards slowly. “That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out, lover boy.”

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

You and Jack emerge from the metro just across from the Louvre. Grabbing Jack’s hand you lead the two of you over towards a side entrance and enter near the restaurant patio and walk out into the plaza with the inverted pyramid. After you’ve walked closer you release Jack’s hand so that you can take a couple of photos with your phone.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You walk ahead of Jack a bit without realizing it.

“Stunning,” Jack murmurs to himself. But Jack isn’t looking around at the pyramid and the buildings. Jack is focused solely on you. He stays behind you but moves to the side a little bit and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box he’d gotten just for this, takes your engagement ring out of it. He actually had forced himself to wear your ring on a chain around his neck this morning, just for this and had taken it off the chain while waiting for you to use the bathroom earlier in the day.

He keeps himself behind you by a few steps and pulls his pant leg up a bit as he slides down on one knee. Again. 

“What do you think? I know it probably doesn’t live up to expectations with how I went on about it, I just love it so much for some reason.” You smile to yourself and turn to where you think Jack is going to be standing, wanting to see his expression as he takes it in. But he’s not there and so your brows furrow as you start to turn to look for him. 

Jack smiles in anticipation. He knows that it’s a little ridiculous maybe, probably, seeing as how you’re already engaged, but still. As much as his other proposal felt right and was right, this still feels kind of right too. You turn completely and your eyes find him already down on one knee this time.

“Shut the fuck up.” You clamp a hand over your mouth. You know he’s already proposed but even so, that’s the first thing you say? You think to yourself. Really? 

Jack laughs, closing his eyes and leaning forward on his knee a little bit. “Oh my god,” he breathes through a small laugh, smiling as wide as he ever has and shaking his head as he straightens back up and looks up at you. “I love you so goddamn much. That was so perfectly you.”

You pull your hand from your mouth and open it like you’re going to say something and then close it, put your hand back over it. 

Jack has to laugh a little at that too. He decides to keep it short and sweet this time. “You are far and away the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.” He’s still smiling but becomes a little more serious, eyes sparkling with mirth and tears. “I want to do every day and every night with you. I love you. So what do you say, Doll? Will you marry me?”

You move your hand from your mouth as a few tears slip down your face. You’re beaming at Jack as you start to nod. “Yes” you giggle, “yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you, Jack Abbot.” 

After you spend the day at the Louvre Jack explains why he had you bring a nice cocktail dress with you. He’d made a reservation at a quite upscale Parisian restaurant to celebrate the second proposal. As thrilled as you are to have gone back to the hotel and gotten all dressed up and to be here and as special and as spoiled as you feel, half of you is ready to throw back your champagne and drag Jack back to the hotel. He’s in a pair of slim fit black dress pants, a simple collared button up shirt in white and a black blazer that matches his pants. 

You order a very nice bottle of champagne to share during dinner. Once your glasses are poured, you hold yours up and tip it towards Jack a little. “To the Abbots.” 

Jack swallows hard but mirrors you, lifting his glass and tipping it towards you a little before you carefully clink your glasses together. “To the Abbots.” 

The drink he takes is fairly quick because he wants to watch you and the way your lips wrap around the rim of the flute and how the flicker of the candle on your table with the low lighting of the restaurant make your eyes look almost moltent. He’s particularly wired for you tonight, can’t really put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s just the whole thing, being in Paris together, having just proposed again, you in that dress. Maybe the second proposal has just really shoved it right back in his face that you’re going to be his wife. His wife. 

Whatever the reason is all Jack knows is he’s been half hard since you left the hotel, and you are, unknowingly in fairness to you, winding him up more and more with every little thing you do. He doesn’t want to rush this, at all, and he doesn’t, but that tension and need for you just continues to build. 

He doesn’t realize it but it’s the same for you. Jack looks so fucking hot dressed like this. He always does but there’s something about this and how rare it is for you to see him like this and the fact that you’re seeing him like this in Paris that’s driving you up a wall. 

You get through the bottle of champagne while eating your appetizer and mains. You both decide on a dessert to share and a drink, Jack picking a fancy scotch you’re praying you’ll be able to taste on him later. 

As your waitress is walking away Jack messes with his tie, unknotting it and shoving it in his pocket before undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. In part because he has a plan and in part because he does in fact feel smothered and too hot, but not from the temperature of the room. “It’s hot in here, I was dying with that thing, sorry Doll.” 

Your eyes narrow and you cock your head at him but don’t say anything. You know he runs hotter than you but, at least to you, the restaurant isn’t particularly hot and you’re usually the one who’s more temperature sensitive. And something about what Jack just did feels familiar. But then maybe you’re just lightheaded and dizzy by how he somehow looks even hotter with his collar open like that. If he takes his blazer off and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows you’ll be on your knees between his legs with everyone watching.

“Hey?” Jack’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back. “You good?” He’s almost a little too nonchalant with the question. 

You look at him for a moment before you smile and nod at him. “More than, Peter. Looking forward to dessert.”

Jack hums low, eyes greedy as they roam over your face, down your neck to your cleavage and then back up so he’s looking you in the eyes again. He fills out well past half hard, thankful he’s sitting and that the table provides cover. “Me too, Doll, me too.” 

Before you can say anything else your drinks are brought over and by the time the waitress walks away again Jack is asking you a question about Versailles tomorrow. It feels like he’s trying to distract you. You let him.

Dessert comes not long after your drinks and looks amazing. It’s as delicious as it looks and the soft moan you let out when you first taste it has Jack even more riled. He’s ready to slam his drink, finish the dessert in two bites and get you the fastest taxi back to the hotel so that he can finally be tasting you or inside of you or fingering you. He doesn’t particularly care which at the moment, he just needs you. 

It hits you mid sip and you take a hum in, have to temper your reaction so you can swallow and not bring the glass down to the table so hard it breaks in your hand. “Tie raincheck.” You nod a little. “Tie raincheck, that is exactly what this is.” 

Jack raises his eyebrows at you, tries to feign confusion. “No idea what you mean, Doll.” Jack takes a sip of scotch.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes you do.”

Jack sets his drink down and looks up at you. “Dessert.” He points to it with his spoon.

“Tell me I’m right.” You can feel your pulse quicken, fight the urge to rub your legs together to get the tiniest bit of friction. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him as you think about what’s to come, how he’s going to use the tie on you. 

There’s a subtle shift in the energy between the two of you, Jack becoming far more dominant as you decide whether to behave or be a brat. “Doll.”

“Peter.”

Jack cocks his head at you. “Eat.” There’s a bit of a warning to it. 

“You know exactly what I mean. On the roof of the hospital because we didn’t get to go to the wedding.” You set your spoon down and lean in a bit. “You told me you promised to give me a raincheck on the tie because I’d said something earlier about what you’d wear to the wedding and the tie would be in your pocket at the reception waiting to be used on me.”   

Jack’s eyes darken a bit more and he sets his spoon down, leans in close to you over the table and holds your gaze. “I know that as soon as we finish this,” he nods down at the dessert without breaking eye contact that’s started to smolder, voice lower and more gravelly, “we can go back to the hotel and I can use the tie shoved in my pocket on you and fuck you until you’re so cock drunk off me the only three things you can say are ‘Jack,’ ‘yours,’ and ‘wife.’” He leans back to sit normally and picks his spoon back up, gives you a little smile like he didn’t just promise to fuck you stupid. “Dessert first, yeah?” 

It takes you a few seconds but eventually you nod wordlessly and pick up your spoon. 

You start eating noticeably faster than normal and taking bigger sips of your drink. Jack pins your spoon with the rounded point of his the next time you go for a bite. You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You’re eating dessert like he asked. 

“Don’t rush.” You let out the smallest whine but Jack catches it, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at you for a moment before letting your spoon go. 

You do as he asks, slow yourself back down to your normal pace, or at least as close as you can get with how wired he’s gotten you. Jack knows and lets it happen. He knows he’s taking slightly bigger bites than he normally would because as much as he loves teasing you and dragging it out he’s also pretty desperate to get back to the hotel, to tease you and drag it out there. 

You finally finish dessert and your drinks and Jack pays. He flags down a taxi to get you guys back to the hotel and the way he waves and whistles to get the driver’s attention since their window is down has absolutely no business being as hot as it is. 

In the cab you can’t help yourself. Your hand wanders over to Jack’s thigh and moves up and in until you find his semi. You know it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass but you can’t help yourself and rub him, try to get your thumb around the ridge at the head of his cock how you know he likes. Jack stifles a quiet grunt as you get him harder. His jaw clenches, chest starts to heave a little, breathing a bit louder. His hand wraps around your wrist and moves your hand, pins it to the seat between you. You pout, both because he’s stopped your fun and because he deliberately hasn’t given you the satisfaction and looked at you since you got in.   

Just as he always does Jack walks around the car and opens the door for you when you get to the hotel, gives you his hand to take to help you out. He looks at you finally as you take it and let him help you out, gives you a little smirked smile and raise of an eyebrow. He’s quiet as you walk through the hotel and in the elevator. You were hoping he’d push you up against the wall of it and makeout with you, let you find out if you can taste his scotch on him. But no. He just lets the anticipation and tension build. A hand on the small of your back guides you to your hotel room where he opens the door for you. 

“Stop,” Jack instructs you as you step into the bedroom. You hesitate and he sees it, sees you deciding whether you’re going to push him tonight. You decide not to and so do as he asks, stopping in place. “Good.” Jack turns and goes back to get the door deadbolted and secured before coming back to you. 

Warm hands find the zipper of your dress and pull it down, help you shrug out of it. He crouches to get your shoes off and have you step out of the dress. Jack takes his time hanging the dress up, watching from the corner of his eyes how you shift on your feet in anticipation. 

He walks back to you, stands in front of you this time, eyes dragging down your body, lingering on the lingerie you’re wearing, that he had to force himself to ignore after he got your dress off you so he could tease you by hanging it up. “You get this for me?” Jack slips a finger under one of the bra straps and pulls it away before releasing it to snap back against your skin. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

Jack hums at that, brings his eyes to yours and gives you a smile. “So good using your words without me having to ask.” His attention returns to your body and the lingerie. He starts palming at himself over his pants much like you did in the cab. He lets out a low breath as he hardens fully and fights the urge to say fuck it and just take you now because god knows he wants to. 

Instead, he pulls his hands away and moves them down towards the bottom of the set where they play with the waistband, making their way to the side and repeating his actions with your bra, slipping a finger under it and pulling the material towards him before letting it snap back against you. You’re breathing much heavier now, both of you can hear it.

“It’s very pretty, and you’re stunning in it, Doll,” he murmurs, flicks his eyes back to yours so he can look you in the eyes for a second, make sure you know how much he means it. Jack hums as one hand moves to his pocket. He pulls out his pocket knife and flicks it open without looking as his other hand toys with one side of the waistband that sits on the outside of your hip. “It’s a shame really.”

He pulls the fabric out far enough to slip the blade under it and pulls, cutting through the material with ease. 

“Fuck, Jack.” His eyes flash to yours when you say his name. There’s something darkly and deeply possessive about his look. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen it this intense before. It makes your heart beat faster. 

He does the same to the other side, holds onto the material so that he can slide your underwear from between your legs before it hits the floor. He glances down at the gusset and then back at you. “Messy girl.” Jack smirks, and closes the knife, slips it back in his pocket with your underwear. He brings his hand down to your center, runs a couple of fingers through you to see how wet you already are for him. “Fuck,” he groans, other hand rubbing his cock just for some friction and relief, “that for me too?”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow. “Yes, yes. For you. Always for you.” 

Jack throbs against his boxer briefs that are entirely too tight for his liking now. You’re testing his patience without even knowing it, just by standing here and doing what he asks. It’s not a bad thing, he’s just acutely aware of how much teasing you is teasing him. 

He pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean and his other hand pops the clasp of your bra. The whole thing makes a shiver race up your spine, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. He tosses the bra aside and spends a moment just looking at your breasts, licks his lips without even realizing it. 

Jack pulls away a bit and his hand finds his other pocket, pulls out the tie. You whimper a little at the sight. “Now, what to do with this?” He cocks his head at you. “Could gag you with it. Tie your ankles together.” His hands find yours, bring them up in front of you and turn your wrists slightly so that your hands are in front of your chest, palm to palm like you’re praying. “I think,” Jack lilts, “this is what we’re going to do. You were just so handsy in the cab, afterall, I’m sure you had your fill of touching me then. Plus,” he takes your underwear from your pocket and lays it over one of your shoulders, “we have these for your mouth.” He binds your hands together with the tie expertly, running it across the back of your palms and fingers in addition to your wrists so you can’t even open your hands to try and touch him. He knots it off with a bowline knot. Strong, but very easily undone should the need arise. 

“No!” You shake your head at him, whining and pleading. “I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Jack hums at you. “Well that’s also a shame, then.” He grabs your underwear from your shoulder and brings them to your mouth. “Open.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jack freezes immediately. Wait is not one of your safe words but it’s also not something you end up saying that much during sex, especially not how you just said it. “No! Not bad!” That stops him from pulling out the knot. “A kiss, please.” It’s almost begged and Jack lets out a little laugh, a small amused smirk forming. “I want to know if I can taste your scotch on you, please, I’ve been thinking about it since you ordered it. Please, please, Jack. I’ll be so good, please!”

The smirk slips from Jack’s face as his jaw grinds at your words, at how you’ve been thinking about tasting him for that long. “I suppose you’ve been listening quite well so far.” You both know this is as much for him as it is for you after your admission. 

Jack holds your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens in anticipation and he’s quick to give you what you want, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand sliding from your face down to grope at your ass as he gets lost in the kiss. It’s longer than he intended but he doesn’t care, he can’t get enough of the moans it’s pulling from you every time he licks into you and sucks on your bottom lip. 

He forces himself to pull away. “So?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “I could. Tasted so fucking good.” 

“Good.” Jack steps back and takes his hands off you but hovers them nearby for a second to make sure your balance is okay with your hands tied like they are after leaning into him for the kiss. “I hope you enjoyed it because the next time I kiss you I won’t taste like it.” He brings your underwear back to your mouth. “You remember everything?” He’s asking if you remember how to get him to stop when you have neither your hands nor your mouth like this. You nod and he can see in your eyes that you do. “Good,” he nods. “Open.” You do and he stuffs your underwear inside of your mouth, thumb brushing over your bottom lip when he’s finished.

You track his every movement as he walks over to the desk and takes his blazer off, sets it over the back of the desk chair. He turns and looks at you, walks back so that he’s only six or so feet in front of you and undoes the button at one of his wrists, starts rolling his sleeve up just below his elbow, and doing the same with the second.

If you trusted yourself to get onto your knees safely with your hands tied like this you would, spit out your underwear and crawl over to him. But you don’t so all you can do is stand there and whine a few moans at him, try to plead with your eyes, for what you’re not entirely sure. 

Jack hums at you. “Bet you wish you hadn’t been handsy in the cab now, don’t you?”

You whimper at that, hand your shoulders a little. Jack smirks. 

He walks to the bathroom and grabs a clean towel, lays it over the edge of the bed. “Go sit.” You do as he asks, quivering in anticipation the whole time. Jack walks to the head of the bed and grabs a bunch of pillows, props them all right behind you. He wants you to lean back and watch, wants to be able to make eye contact with you. 

Jack walks back to the edge of the bed and stands in between your legs when they automatically part for them. “You gonna be good and watch?” 

You nod rapidly, not even sure what it is you’re going to be watching but knowing it’s going to feel almost too good and be almost too erotic to stand with how keyed up you are.

“Good,” Jack nods. He sinks to his knees then and you let out a muffled cry at the realization. His hands find your ankles and he rests the flat of your feet on his shoulders, pulls you down by the hips so that your ass will just slightly be hanging off the bed and tilting your hips up when he gets you to lay back. He pulls the pillows closer to you again. “Lay back.”

Jack nods at you, looks down at your cunt, now perfectly on display for him, swollen and glistening. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, smirks when it has the desired effect and has you clenching around nothing and whining. Jack kisses the insides of your thighs, sucks at your skin hard enough to burst blood vessels, nibbles at you. He turns his attention back to your pussy. “You smell so good.” He kisses just above your clit and you roll your hips, using his shoulders as leverage. He tilts his head and rests it on your thigh for a second as he looks up at you. It’s a bit of an unexpected move, not one you can recall him doing to you, though you frequently do it to him when you’re taking him in your mouth. Jack breathes in deep through his nose and groans from his chest. “Always smell so good for me. And you taste just as good.”

You whimper and clench around nothing just as Jack surges forward and licks you cunt to clit. You flinch at the feeling, hips bucking up. The vibration of Jack’s laugh meets your clit as he sucks it into his mouth, his hands finding your hips and pinning them down. 

He teases your clit with the tip of his tongue as he sucks on it, gently rolls it between his teeth before pulling away. His tongue circles around it and then drops down, pushes inside your pussy, fucks you a few times before it figure eights back up to your clit, flicks over it rapidly before he sucks it into his mouth again. 

You’re wailing for him because you can be with your underwear muffling every cry and moan his tongue rips for you. You’re teary from the pleasure already, your whole body on fire. You never want him to stop it feels so good. Your hips struggle against Jack’s hands, trying to buck up to no avail, hands straining against the tie because you want your hands in his hair so badly, want to grip at the sheets, something, anything. 

The intense eye contact you share makes Jack’s tongue feel even better, the pleasure in the creases of his eyes and pull of his eyebrows helping get you off. There’s something about knowing how much he loves this, knowing how much he loves eating you specifically out that drives you insane, has your toes curling against his shoulders. He’d told you once, you can hear it in your head now in that low gravelly voice of his, that he was always very whatever about it, didn’t love or hate it, but would do it of course, until he met you, and now he loves it, craves it, wants to be doing it all the time, finds himself missing it at random moments during his days. 

Jack repeats his movements, groans and grunts into you as he alternates sucking and licking and tongue fucking you in different patterns right to the edge. It doesn’t take long. You’re close, already. And if he had more patience and wasn’t as painfully hard as he is he would back off, drag it out longer, edge you a bit. 

He sucks at your clit until it pops out of his mouth as he pulls his head away. “I want you to focus and feel, Doll. And keep your eyes on mine.”

You moan something that sounds like you’re trying to say ‘I am’ through your underwear. 

“No.” His voice is sharp, cuts through your pleasure haze, eyes blazing. “Focus and feel it.” You’re not sure what it means but you nod, you’ll do anything for him right now. 

Jack holds your gaze for another moment before glancing down at your cunt and sucking at your clit. He looks back up at you as he releases your clit and flicks his tongue over it with precise strokes that are just the right pressure to pull tears from your eyes because of the intensity of it all. He raises his eyebrows slightly, a reminder to focus and feel it. 

You do, ground yourself in Jack’s eyes as you look at him and focus and feel. It hits you. You take in a gasped shuddery breath, try to say ‘oh my god’ around your underwear but it just comes out as a moan and a sob. 

The strokes of his tongue against you aren’t just precise. They’re spelling out his name. He starts over when he knows you’ve got it. J a c k A b b o t M i n e M y W i f e. You’re almost hyperventilating it feels so good, is so possessive it augments the feeling of his tongue three-fold. Once he’s finished the final e of wife he starts over with a J and one hand leaves a hip. 

You’re so focused on Jack and his eyes that you don’t even see it about to happen, though you theoretically would be able to. Two fingers slide inside you, easily with how wet you are. Jack finds that spongy spot inside of you makes a rapid come hither motion and you’re gone. 

It shoves you over the edge, launches you over it really. The groans you’re pulling from Jack just from coming on his fingers as his tongue laps at you make your orgasm crash into you even harder. You knew you were close and it was going to hit you soon but it still catches you off guard. It’s blinding, you try so hard to keep your eyes open and give Jack the eye contact you know he wants, is demanding of you. But something has to give, you have to take one sense back from him. 

You sob out moans around your underwear, enjoy the freedom you have to not hold back for fear of being too loud in a hotel. You try saying his name around it, aren’t even fully conscious of it because of how fucked out of your mind you are, how little control you have over your body and mind right now. 

He starts to ease off and slows just when he needs to, right before the point of painful overstimulation. Because that’s not what he wants tonight. He just wants you to feel good. He laps at your pussy a few times to clean you up a bit and get a few last tastes of you. 

You whimper when he pulls away and stands up and looks down at you. You got so wet and so messy that almost the entire bottom half of his face is slick and shining with you. He smirks at you, licks his two fingers clean before bending down and grabbing your bra from the floor and uses the cups to wipe his face off. “You are,” it’s a little panted, “so delicious. I could do that forever. Live between your legs like that.” His words make you whimper again. 

Jack helps you sit up so he can clear the pillows away then lay you back on the bed. He walks around the side and pulls the comforter down and then moves you so that your feet and head face the side of the bed, not the headboard and end. “God, Doll.” You can hear him messing with his shirt, unbuttoning it and throwing it to the floor, undershirt joining it a second later. “I could’ve come from just that. Just fucked my fist once or twice and lost it just from the way you taste and how pretty you sound when you come even all muffled and how hard you gripped my fingers.”

You moan at that, wish that you could see him getting undressed and talking about you like that. The clinking of metal tells you he’s undoing his belt, the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor a second or so later. Both pants and boxer briefs if you had to guess. 

It’s quiet for a second until you strain and hear the softest hum of skin rubbing skin. Jack’s stroking himself slowly, eyes roaming your body intently. You whine. You want him back, want him inside you. Need him inside you. 

“Need something, Doll?” Jack asks as he climbs on the bed and up your body so that he hovers over you. You blink hard at him and try to say ‘you.’ Jack uses a hand to wipe away some of the fresh tears that slip from your eyes. “Me? Just like this? So you can see since you can’t touch or speak?” You nod quickly and repeatedly, drop your shoulders and widen your eyes to say please. “Well,” Jack starts as he pulls away from you and moves to the side of your legs, “that’s not the plan baby.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your stomach, grabs your hips and pulls them up so that you’re on your knees. Even with your hands tied together like they are you’re still able to push the front half of your body up on your elbows a little. “I just really love having you from behind sometimes, you know?” Jack moves to kneel between your legs, runs a hand through your cunt and uses it to slick his cock before sliding it between your lips and running it through you, head nudging at your clit. “Love looking at your ass.” His hands grip your cheeks, squeeze a bit roughly. 

You’ve come back down enough now that your mind is a little less hazy and you have the wherewithal to moan as you move your hips back and forth in time with his as he slides through you. Jack laughs, pinches one of your ass cheeks. “Impatient girl.” A hand presses into your lower back to still you and a second later you feel Jack’s other hand helping line himself up. “That’s okay, I’m a little impatient right now too.”

Jack slowly pushes into you, a flurry of curse words falling off his tongue as he does, a long moan from you until he bottoms out. 

“We’ve barely started planning the wedding and I’m already impatient for you to be my wife.” Jack pulls out of you, right to the tip, hand still pressing into your lower back. “Impatient for you to have my last name.”

It’s slow at first, teasing the both of you really, long, patient strokes out of you followed by easing himself back in. It’s slow until it isn’t, because Jack doesn’t slowly build up to a faster pace. He just pulls out of you slowly again but snaps his hips to get himself inside of you quickly, sets an unrelenting pace, hands finding your hips and pulling you back onto him so he can fuck you harder with every thrust. 

“You’re already mine,” Jack grunts. “So fucking mine, god!” You feel so good, are so wet and tight for him and he is so impossibly deep in you that it makes it harder for him to say what he wants, thought starts to go. “Everyone knows from the fucking rock on your finger.” He keeps fucking you at the same pace, doesn’t slow down for a second. It shakes the bed, hard, and it’s the reason he put you sideways, so the headboard didn’t keep slamming against the wall and earn you a noise complaint. “Everyone knows you belong to me. Knows you’re mine.”

You’re reduced to tears and moans by his words, struggle to keep yourself up as your whole body shakes.

“I love fucking you like this. Can get so deep, fuck you so hard.” His hands find just above your hips and he pushes down, hard, but not hard enough to hurt. It tilts your pelvis even further for him, lets him get even deeper. “Can fuck my pussy. So. Fucking. Deep.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips.

You sob at it at the same time Jack growls your name. He has never fucked you this deep before, has never been quite this feral. You have no idea what’s set him off like this but you’d like to know so you can keep it in your back pocket. It’s the last semi-coherent thought you have. 

His pace grows frenetic, strokes just as hard and fast but not in the same regular rhythm they had been as Jack gets further drunk off you. Jack pulls out right before he’s about to come and you sob at the loss. You don’t have much time to think about it or be sad though because he’s flipping you over and leaning over you and thrusting back inside of you in seconds. He’s still though. 

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he murmurs through a pant as he undoes the knot of the tie and unwraps your hands. “Taken it all so beautifully.” His praise makes you shiver as he removes your underwear from your mouth, makes the fire that’s taken over your body burn even hotter.

His hands take yours carefully and he kisses at some of the indented marks left by the tie before rubbing each hand and wrist out for a second. He wipes at your mouth after, helps remove the saliva that’s dripped out from having the gag in. You’re panting hard, punctuated by hiccupped breaths from your tears. “So good for me.” His thumb brushes over your lip and then he leans down and kisses you, presses his body into yours and slowly raises his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your hands run up his neck and tangle in his hair. The relief that feeling the unfairly silky strands against your hands brings you is almost comical. It’s just his hair. Just running your hands through his hair. The kiss isn’t as long as either of you would like since you’re both panting pretty hard, already out of breath. “I mean it you know.” He nods, pushing back in slowly, just like he had earlier. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” 

“I know.” Your voice is raw. “I can’t wait to be your wife.” 

“Good,” Jack murmurs, presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I have a promise to keep.”

He’s straightening up and throwing your legs over his shoulders before you can process his words and try to think about what promise he’s talking about. And then Jack’s right back to fucking you. Hard. With a kind of nearly reckless abandon that’s driven by sheer need. 

“Jack!” You tug his hair hard and it just spurs him on, makes his hips move faster somehow. “Oh fuck, I’m, it’s too, you’re too…” You shake your head a little, don’t even know what you’re trying to say, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?” Jack pants out as he leans into you further, rolls your hips up more so he can get even deeper. “What Doll? Please what?”

“Any, anything!” You’re lost in the sensation of him. He’s all you have, all that exists to you right now. “I, I.” A little moaned sob leaves you as you give up trying, let your eyes flutter closed. 

Jack laughs darkly. “You’re so fucking-” Jack has to stop to groan when you somehow find it in you to rock your hips in time with him. He doesn’t remember what he was going to say. “Mine,” he growls at your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” Jack slips his hands below your shoulders, rests on his elbows and curls his fingers in your hair. He uses it as leverage to push you down onto him so he can fuck you even harder. He’s got you nearly pressed in half, your hips tilted so far up he’s snapping his hips and fucking nearly straight down into you. “Look at me.” 

“Jack, I, I, I can’t,” you stutter through a moan. “Can’t, I can’t.”

“Yes the fuck you can,” he growls. “I know you fucking can, Doll.” You force your eyes open, Jack coming into focus as your tears clear enough to really see him. You’re glad he made you open them because fuck does he look good. Jack is feral and possessive in a way you haven’t seen before and is fucking you harder than he ever has before and is somehow even deeper than in your last position. A few sweaty curls stick to his forehead, eyes absolutely wild, blown so wide you’d struggle to tell what color his irises are if you didn’t already know. His flushed face and neck are strained, veins more prominent than usual. 

And Jack is looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment. Like he’s so attracted to you that he can’t get enough of you. Like fucking you is a privilege. Like he needs you so bad it hurts. Like he’ll never have enough of you. Like he knows you’re his in every sense of the word. Like he knows how good he’s fucking you, cocky and proud.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs at you, all gravel and rasp. Every thrust steals your breath as it sends another wave of pleasure through you. It’s dizzying, how he’s making you feel physically and emotionally. He always makes you feel so wanted but it’s even more heightened right now. He’s desperate for you. You’re the only thing on his mind. “Whose are you?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the word, panting out small sobs until it mercifully runs through your mind. “Y-yours Jack,” you cry, “yours!”

“That’s fucking right,” he growls again, leans his head into your neck and sucks hard. “And.” it’s harder for him to get words out too. Jack’s just as pussy drunk as you are cock drunk. “What are you gonna fu-fucking be?”

Your hands slide from his hair down to the side of his neck and back. Jack loves the sharp pain it brings, somewhere some part of him knows he’ll have scratch marks and bruises tomorrow. You’re a panting, sweaty mess beneath him. “I…” You’re so far gone you hardly know how to begin to even try to think to find the word. 

He sucks at your neck one last time and pulls back up. You haven’t answered him. “Eyes back on me,” he orders. You comply, eyes opening to find his again. “What’re you-” Jack groans as you squeeze him even tighter. “Fucking christ you’re so good, feel so fuckin’ good!” Jack’s derailed for a moment by his pleasure, the pleasure you’re giving him. But the promise comes back to him. “What’re you gonna be?” 

You’re all whimpers and whines as you open and close your mouth as you look for the word. Jack chuckles darkly. He starts to mouth the word at you and it hits. 

“Wife,” you moan, at the pleasure you’re feeling and the thought. “Your wife!”

“Fuck!” Jack snaps his hips even harder when you say it. He loves hearing you say it. “That’s right. My wife. My fucking wife. My fucking wife with her perfect fucking pussy that’s mine. You are fucking mine.” Jack starts to babble as he gets closer and closer. “Anything else to say Doll?” he chokes out through heavy pants. 

You shake your head, let out a sob. You need this. Need him, need to come, need to feel him come. “Jack!” Your nails dig into his back and neck. “Jack!” you moan again. It’s the only word your brain can come up with unprompted. 

“Good,” he grunts, panting hard as he shifts and slides a hand between you, circles at your clit. He doesn’t even mean to pull it from you that fast but you’re so close and so far fucking gone that it’s just a few swipes of his fingers and you’re coming, the pleasure searing every nerve. 

You’ll look back and know that it’s easily the hardest you’ve ever come, easily. You’re rendered totally breathless, completely lost to the pleasure flooding you. Jack’s right behind you, his orgasm catching him just as off guard as yours caught you. You get so tight around him, sound so beautiful in the seconds before you come and force yourself to keep your eyes open and look at him, teary and fucked out and like you know you belong to him, that he’s slamming into you, pulling his hand from your clit and grinding himself against you as he tries to prolong his release and yours. 

There are no words for either of you, both of you rendered completely speechless by the intensity of the orgasms ripping through you. Jack gets his voice back first, an absolutely strangled groan of your name from somewhere deep in his chest. It has to be one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard him make. Your voice comes back shortly after, as do your tears because you are still so overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings and Jack. You moan his name over and over. 

Jack collapses on you carefully, so that his head is at your chest and your torso isn’t completely covered by his making it harder to breathe. He’s shaking just as badly as you are, both of your bodies have no idea what to do with all the pleasure. You’re both panting hard, still a bit lost in your minds to it. You trade off moaned and groaned fucks and oh gods and I love yous and each other’s names as you come back down, occasional aftershocks hitting you both and making you whine. He kisses at your chest wherever his lips happen to reach. 

Jack’s forcing himself to get back quicker. He has the instinctive drive to take care of you. You need him. That was a lot to take and you were properly sobbing. “Okay,” he finally pants out minutes later. “You are so fucking good, fuck me. You feel so good.” He pushes himself up so that he can lean down and give you some soft kisses to your lips and also your face, the bruise he sucked into your neck, your collarbones, the top of your breasts. “My good girl. So perfect and beautiful for me.” He gives you a few more kisses and then he forces himself to roll off you. 

“Jack?” you whimper. You miss him already, miss his body weight helping calm your shakes and his warmth and his smell. You’d stopped sobbing and Jack doesn’t want you to get teary again.

“Shh,” he soothes you, “it’s okay, I’m right here.” Jack sits up and pulls you into his arms before grabbing the comforter and sliding you both up the bed so he can hold you as he reclines on the headboard. You curl into his chest once he’s settled and strong arms pull the comforter over the both of you before slipping under it and wrapping around you tightly, putting pressure on you to help with the shakes. His are almost gone now. “You did so fucking well,” he murmurs through softening pants. “I love you.” He kisses the top of your head. “You were so good, I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur, absolutely fucking glowing in his arms at the praise, smiling to yourself as you nuzzle his chest. If his arms weren’t wrapped so tightly around your body you think you’d be floating away from how good you feel.

Jack shifts, grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it. “Water, yeah? Please.” 

You whine at his request, but this one is playful, you’re back with him. “Don’t wanna move.” 

Jack laughs softly. “You barely have to, just lift your head a little, okay?” You huff a little but do as he asks and he holds the water for you, tips it carefully so that it doesn’t flow too fast for you and pulls away when you start to pull back. “Thank you Doll.” 

“Thank you,” you hum at him in response, settle your head back on his chest. “You’re so fucking good too, you know. I hope you know. I’ve never been fucked the way you fuck me.”

“Always. And I do know. Believe me, you make sure I fucking know.” Jack takes a couple of sips of his own before recapping the bottle and setting it on the table again. He holds you tight again, kisses the top of your head every now and then. “You doing okay, Doll?” 

“So, so much more than okay.” You realize with how raw your voice is and how you’re still shaking a little it’s not very reassuring. “My body just,” you take in a deep breath, “doesn’t know what to do, but I feel good. I feel amazing. That was so fucking good Jack, you felt so fucking good, made me feel so fucking good. I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have just gotten fucked like that.” You sigh so dreamily it makes you giggle. 

“Good,” he murmurs, chuckles just a little from your last sentence and your giggles. He knows you’re okay and relaxes. “We’ll take a bath in a few minutes, yeah? You can go to the bathroom, have some more water for me. Maybe have a snack. And then I’ll massage you out a little, once we’re out of the bath, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.” You kiss his chest because he’s the sweetest. 

“I do. I always need to take care of you after regardless of how hard or soft it is. But more than that I always want to, okay?” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

“I know. And I want to take care of you too.” You run a hand through his sweat damp curls, scratch at his scalp. Your shaking has stopped now. 

Jack’s head leans into your hand on instinct because of how good it feels. “You always do,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you Doll.”

“I love you too Peter.” He can feel your smile against his chest. “Kinda sleepy.” 

Jack lets out a little laugh through his nose. “I’m sure you are. I am too. Let’s get you into the bathroom, yeah? You can pee while I start the bath and then once we’re in you can even doze on me a bit if you want okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod a little and take in a deep breath before moving with Jack so that you’re both properly sitting up. 

He stands up and holds his hands out for you. You’re so blissed out you don’t even realize he’d left his prosthetic on. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” You grab his hands as you push off the bed and wow can you feel the soreness and stiffness already. And that’s on top of how your legs feel weak and shaky right now from how thoroughly you’ve just been fucked. You let out the softest groan of pain.

Jack catches it immediately, wraps his arm around you to help support you. “You okay?” You look up at Jack and nod, give him a smile. Because you are. You fucking love it. Love this feeling and how he takes care of you and lets you take care of him in the bath. Jack helps you into the bathroom and to the toilet while he starts the bath. 

As always, he pours in a copious amount of bubble bath gel. You’d told him once that bubble baths were your favorite and so he always tries to make sure there’s something for you. Bubbles or a bath bomb, you’d mentioned liking those once. This is the upscale expensive brand bubble bath that the hotel provides. You both enjoy the way it smells. 

“Peter?” you call to him from the small separate area where the toilet is. 

“What’s up? You okay?” Jack’s already moving towards you. 

“Can we have bubbles?” You support yourself on the wall and stand and flush as he comes into view. “I forgot to ask.” 

Jack gets an arm around you to help support you and smiles, kissing and nipping at the tip of your nose just so he can hear your fucked-out, sleepy laugh again. “You’ve got bubbles already waiting for you, Doll. You never need to ask. I’ve got you.”

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

It’s the day of your third anniversary. 

You and Jack didn’t abide by the whole not seeing each other or sleeping in the same bed the night before your wedding thing. You stir awake curled against Jack’s chest, nuzzling into him and intertwining your legs further as you settle back against his chest, not ready to fully wake up and open your eyes to the world. Jack’s hands start to rub up and down your back and you feel the vibrations of his low chuckle in his chest more than you hear it. 

“I think it’s time to get up, sleepy girl,” Jack hums at you. 

You shake your head against him lazily. “Don’t wanna leave this. You.”

Your voice is so sleepy and adorable Jack can hardly stand it. “You know what today is?”

“Mm,” you hum at him, make no effort to pull yourself further awake. “Saturday.” Jack scoffs a laugh and rolls his eyes affectionately even though you can’t see. You smile against his chest as he shakes his head. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Jack concedes, gives your ass a little pinch. That makes you jolt in his arms and yelp, not because it hurt because it surprised you. “But that’s not what I was looking for.”

“I can’t believe you just pinched my ass to wake me up on the morning of our third anniversary and wedding!” You don’t move an inch and Jack gets the answers he was looking for.

“I did not!” Jack huffs with a laugh. “You were already awake when I pinched you!” 

“The pedantism I’m facing at this hour of the morning is unreal,” you sigh dramatically. 

“Oh that was hardly pedantic, and you know it.” 

“I know no such thing. But,” you pause for effect and to kiss at Jack’s collarbone, nibble at it just a little. The reaction from him is immediate, hips canting just slightly against yours. You’ve felt how hard he’s been this entire time. “I do know that if we stop debating it you’ll have enough time to fuck me one last time as your fiancée. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Jack’s already rolling you onto your back before you even finish the word fiancée. “Say it again.” His voice is lower than normal, more grit to it than usual even for mornings. The thought is too much. He knew it of course, you kind of half did last night just in case you wouldn’t have time this morning but still. 

“Fuck me one last time as your fiancée Jack.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the salt and pepper curls that are just a centimeter or so longer than when you met as Jack starts kissing at your neck, just kisses, just uses his lips to tease you and grinds up against you. “Fuck me one last time with this last name.” Jack stills at that. Obviously he knew your last name was changing but until you said it he hadn’t thought about it in this context. It makes him a little more feral somehow. He lifts his head from your neck and gazes down at you, eyes blown wide and panting a little. You can tell from his gaze that he’s about to, that he’s already there and thinking of ways he can go hard without risking marking you or making you unable to walk or making you cry and risk swollen eyes. 

“Jack,” you moan his name softly as you roll your hips as he grinds against you. “Fuck me one last time before my last name is Abbot.”

And so he does. 

Jack stands in front of his dress blues where they hang waiting for him to put them on. It’s hard not to think about it, about the last time he saw himself wearing these. At your funeral. And yes, it was just a nightmare, but still. He can’t help the little pang that hits him. You could have died. He’s so aware of it. He could be standing in front of them trying to force himself to get in them so he could get to your funeral. You could have died.

But you didn’t. You’re alive and off in your own room getting your hair and makeup done, slipping into your wedding dress. The thought makes him smile. Jack is wearing his dress blues to marry you, to start a new chapter with you, not to say goodbye to you. 

“You good?” Robby walks in before Jack can fully pull himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jack nods. “I’m more than good. I’m marrying her today.” Robby doesn’t say anything, waits to see if Jack has more to say. “In that nightmare, of her funeral, I wore my dress blues. And Michael, she is so fucking good and imperfectly perfect and so herself and she loves me so fucking much, with this intensity that I’m not sure I deserve that it feels like it’s too good to be true somedays, like she’s too good. Like this life with her is the dream and that nightmare is reality and I’m going to wake up any second in your guest bedroom without her and be back in that nightmare.”

Robby nods slowly, takes in a breath as he thinks. “Well,” he draws the word out in contemplation. “I can promise you this isn’t a dream Jack. You’re not waking up from this to the nightmare that life without her would be for you.”

“I know. And I don’t want to seem sad, because I’m not, I’m so far away from sad.” Jack pauses, gets a little quieter. “She’s everything, Michael. She’s the only thing I’ll ever need. And I’m marrying her today and it’s so fucking cliché but it feels too good to be true because what could I have ever done in any lifetime, let alone this one, to deserve her?” 

“I don’t think you’re sad Jack. I think you’re in love and about to get married and with everything you guys have been through I can understand why it’d throw you for a second.” Robby walks in the room a little closer to Jack and leans his back against the wall the closet is on so he can see Jack’s face. “But I know for a fact that she’s getting ready right now thinking, for reasons I may never personally understand,” he lets out a small laugh which Jack preemptively rolls his eyes at, “the same about you. That you’re too good to be true. That life with you is a dream or too good to be true. And knowing her how I do now, I’d be willing to hazard a guess that she’s probably not sure what she did to deserve you either, not sure she deserves you.” 

Jack finally pulls his eyes from his dress blues to look over at Robby. He doesn’t say anything though, voice just a little too thick with emotion. 

“And to that I have two things to say. One,” he holds out a finger of his left hand horizontally in front of him and wraps his right hand around it, “I love you both dearly, I really do, but you are both fucking idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love. And two,” he moves his right hand off his one finger and holds out a second that his right hand then wraps back around, “you do deserve each other and each other’s love. Why is she worthy of your love, but you’re not worthy of hers?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Because Jack, you say she’s everything and I know she is, I believe you. I see the way you look at her and hear the way you talk about her. But you are everything to her in the same way, the same capacity. She looks at you the same way, talks about you the same way. The way that you love her and feel about her and the intensity of your love for her, is exactly the same as how she loves you and feels about you and the intensity of her love for you.” Robby shakes his head a little and takes in a big breath before letting it out. “And she deserves you and your love, right?” Jack nods. “Well Jack, you deserve her love. And I think that today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept that. That you deserve her and her love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love her.”

It’s quiet as the two look at each other. Robby’s words hit Jack hard. He’s right. Jack hates admitting it but he’s right. All he can do is nod at Robby who gives him a little smile in return. After a second Jack clears his throat. “God Michael, our therapist is really rubbing off on you. How often are you seeing him? You thinking about leaving me to go become a psychologist?”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. He knows by the use of his real name that Jack’s thanking him in the only way he can right now. “He’s got jokes.”

Jack laughs with him but grows a little more serious. “Are you going to give her the same spiel?

Robby nods. “I can go right now and do it, see her in her-”

“No! Do not!” Jack cuts him off, Robby smirking and laughing. “You can talk to her through the door. Or have a dance with her or something later.”

“Whatever you want, brother. Get dressed.” Robby squeezes Jack’s shoulder as he walks by to step out of the room.  

Jack lingers on his hanging dress blues for just another second before taking them down and getting into them. Robby walks back in once he has his shirt and pants on, jacket still hanging. “For you.” Robby hands him a decently sized small box. 

“Aw, Robby, you shouldn’t have,” Jack teases him. 

Robby snorts. “I didn’t.” 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he opens the box. Inside is another box, a recognizable box and in that box is a watch. He finds a small note. So you can’t be late to our forever. ;) I love you more, Doll. Jack lets out a little laugh to himself, shakes his head. He sets the boxes on the dresser in front of him and takes the watch out, puts it on. It fits perfectly without needing any links removed or added and he’s sure it’s because you measured his wrist during the night or when he fell asleep on the couch at some point. 

“Ready?” Robby is holding Jack’s coat open for him. Jack nods and slips it on, stands in front of the mirror while he buttons it to check it all looks okay. He makes sure to slide two handkerchiefs into one of his pockets. “I have the rings.” Robby touches where his inside pocket is. There’s a knock on the door. “I think that’s my cue.” Robby walks over to Jack and they share a hug. “I’m so happy for you Jack. I’ll send her in, yeah?” Jack nods and Robby starts walking over to the door. 

Not far away you’re in your own room getting ready. Even though you and Jack had decided not to have a bridal party, your dress shopping party is there with you, getting hair and makeup done too as they prefer, just for the experience and fun. 

Once you’re done you sit around chatting as Heather, Dana, Mel and your friend get theirs done. You laugh at something Dana says as Mel walks up and sits next to you. “I have something for you.” She hands you a box that’s six or seven inches in length, not overly thick. 

You take the box from her and smile. “Thank you Mel, that’s so sweet of you.” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not from me.” You furrow your brows at her and give her a confused smile. “I think you should open it.” 

You give her one last confused look and then unwrap the box. It has a note on top. Something new. Love you more, Peter. You shake your head as you smile to yourself. You remember him asking on the way to your bridal shower. You hadn’t thought much of it since then, but had a moment or two where you kind of wished you could. At least now you’ll have one of the four. You set the note aside and open the box. “Oh my god, Jack,” you whisper to yourself as you take in the diamond tennis bracelet. The metal matches that of your engagement and wedding rings, diamonds the perfect shape. 

“Wow,” Mel laughs a little stunned as she takes in the bracelet with you. “It’s beautiful. Very sparkly.” 

“I love sparkly,” you murmur to yourself as you nod slowly, still a little stunned. You’re not surprised by it in the sense that it’s a very Jack thing to do, you’re just still in disbelief sometimes that you found Jack, think you probably don’t deserve someone as good as him. He did this for you. Got this for you. Just because he wanted to. 

“Want me to put it on?” Mel asks.

You glance up at Mel at her words. It takes a moment for them to process and then you nod. “Please.” She takes it carefully from the box and you hold your wrist up for her. She brings it over and gets it clasped and you shake your wrist a little to get it to settle. “Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s even more stunning on. 

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Heather smirks as she comes closer to take a look, Dana and your friend following. You all spend too long looking at it before you settle back in. 

Your friend is the next one to come sit by you. She hands you a box that’s a little bigger than a necklace box. “This one is not from your almost husband. It’s from me.” She raises her eyebrows at you and gives you a little smirk as you start to open it. Inside is the garter she’d helped you pick out one day, only in a light shade of blue. “Something blue.” 

“Thank you,” you tell her with a slightly trembling voice. You know she hand dyed it for you, took that time out of her busy schedule to do that for you. “It’s even more beautiful in blue,” you laugh. Your laugh draws attention and you quickly hold it up. “Pretty blue garter,” the three who work with Jack collectively make noises of fake disgust and gagging, “mhm, yep, that’s what I thought.” You all share a laugh. 

You smile at Heather when she comes to sit by you. “Old or borrowed?” You ask with a smirk and raised brows. 

She’s smiling as she offers you what is a necklace box. “I’m not sure if it really counts as old,” she says as you open it, “so I have a backup just in case.” You raise your brows at her as you take the lid off. Inside is a larger cameo locket with a humming bird on it. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. “Open it. Also I didn’t envision you wearing it, I thought maybe you could wrap the chain around your bouquet, have the locket in the front or back depending on what you think.” 

You carefully take it out of the box and open it. Inside is a locket sized photo of you and Jack. “Oh my god,” you whisper. “That’s the first photo Jack and I ever took together.” You look up at Heather glassy eyed. “How?”

“Remember when we went to that cocktail bar a month or so ago and I happened to bring up photos in conversation and steered it towards first photos of all the couples. You showed me your guys’ while Dana was showing you the one of her and her husband she’d taken a picture of on her phone. I was able to air drop it to myself before giving your phone back. I took a little advantage of you being a little tipsy.” She shrugs, but you both laugh. You’re back to looking at the photo of you and Jack, running your finger down the edge of the locket. “I found the locket itself at an antique store. Hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience because of how resilient they are. And with everything that you guys have already survived together, resilience felt right for the two of you.” 

“Heather,” you breathe shakily, as you look back to her, lips pressed in a line but pulled up in a smile that says you’re trying not to cry. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“That’s so fuckin sweet,” Dana dabs at her eyes. It’s then you realize her, Mel and your friend have gotten close. You pass the locket around so they can all see the photo. “You’re making us all look bad Heather!”

Heather laughs and shrugs. “Idea just came to me.” You smile at her again and reach out and squeeze her hand, nodding at her in thanks again. 

“Well, I suppose cat’s outta the bag that I’m borrowed.” Dana walks over to her purse and grabs a small ring box from it and hands it to you. You open it to reveal a beautiful art deco style ring inlaid with diamonds. “I know it’s a very particular style, but that ring has been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for the last hundred and two years. Not a single divorce.” 

“Oh Dana, it’s beautiful.” You look up at her. “But I’m not an Evans and I wouldn’t want to risk messing up it’s ma-” 

“No.” Dana cuts you off with a ‘please’ look. “None of that bullshit. You are an Evans. So is Jack. Even if not in name.” You look back down at the ring and then up at her, round eyes and eyebrows slightly furrowed, a silent ‘really?’ “I brought ring sizers just in case it doesn’t fit on a finger on your right hand. We can make it work.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper when she gets closer, swallowing thickly. “It means more than you know.” Dana doesn’t say anything back, just smiles as she helps you try on the ring. It fits perfectly on your right ring finger, your engagement ring sitting above it for now until after the ceremony. Once you have the ring on and the locket around your bouquet, you set your garter on the bed to put on before your dress. “There we go. Something old something new something borrowed something blue. He made it happen. That man.” You laugh a little to yourself as do the others. 

“So,” Mel clears her throat, “the rhyme actually ends with ‘and a sixpence in her shoe.’ I wasn’t really sure if you’d want to do that or if someone else would get one, so I got one just in case. It goes in the left shoe” Mel holds it up. “I brought some quick set epoxy if you wanted to glue it to the bottom of your shoe if it’s heeled and has a spot that won’t hit the ground, or it has a small hole and can become like a charm or even get sewn onto the shoe. Or you can put it somewhere else. If you want.” She smiles at you. “But totally cool if you don’t.” 

“No no, we have to have the full rhyme!” You cock your head at her and smile. “It’s perfect Mel. Thank you so much.” You walk over and grab your shoes. “Help me get it on my left shoe somewhere?” Mel nods and the two of you step over to the desk to survey your options and decide how best to do it while everyone else finishes up. “Thank you Mel. I would have been so annoyed if I found out we didn’t do the entire thing after,” you laugh. 

“I thought you might be,” she laughs with you. “I’m glad it worked out.” By the time you and Mel turn back to the group everyone is finished with hair and makeup.

“All right, we’ll head out and let you get dressed.” Heather gives you a knowing smile and walks over to hug you tight, followed by Mel and your friend, each of them congratulating you and saying how happy they are for you and Jack before walking out.

The door closes and it’s just you and Dana now. She was the only one who went to any of your fittings with you, so she’s the only one to see you in the dress with it fitted properly. It doesn’t take long to get you in it, all things considered, and your accessories don’t take too long either. 

Dana steps back to survey you for a few seconds before you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress still makes you feel like it did when you first bought it. It makes you feel good, makes you feel how Jack makes you feel when he looks at you. Special and beautiful. And this is it. You’re in your dress for real this time. All of your accessories on, hair and makeup done, shoes on. You’re going to go walk down the aisle to Jack in not more than ten minutes.   

“You look beautiful, kid.” Dana’s eyes are a little glassy as you look at each other through the mirror. “I’m really happy for you guys. You are so so good for him. I’ve never seen him so happy, and I’ve known him a long time.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving her a tight smile and tilting your head back a little trying to stop any tears from forming. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to cry yet.” 

Dana laughs. “It’s okay. If you’re all good I’m going to head to my seat.”

You nod. “Thank you. I mean it Dana. We’re lucky to have you.” She gives you one of her smiles and nods, goes to turn. “You should go see Jack. Before you sit down.” Dana’s eyebrows furrow as she turns back to look at you. “Promise me you’ll go.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion a little but she nods and walks out. 

She knocks when she reaches Jack’s room. “There you are.” Robby smiles at her as he opens the door. “You look very lovely.”

Dana gives him a suspicious look. “Thanks. You don’t clean up top bad yourself Cap. Is there a reason I’m here?”

Robby nods and she walks in the room. “He’ll explain. I’ll see you out there.” He gives her a last smile before exiting the room, the door closing behind him. 

“Jack?” Dana calls out as she moves further in the room. He smiles at her as he walks out from the bathroom, fully dressed and ready. “Wow,” Dana lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight?” She walks over to him and gives him a hug, a kiss on the cheek. 

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” Jack tells her.

She waves him off. “You look very handsome. She’s gonna cry. And you’re definitely gonna cry when you see her.” She rubs in that she’s seen you just a little, earns the smallest eye roll from Jack. “You need something? Your bride got all mysterious on me, ‘promise me you’ll go see Jack’ and then Robby answers the door grinning like an idiot and offering no explanations.”

Jack shrugs at her, smiling like he knows something she doesn’t and that’s going to make her react. “I need someone to walk me down the aisle.” 

Dana’s head lolls forward a little, eyebrows raising as she stares at Jack. “I thought you guys weren’t doing that.”

Jack shakes his head. “She decided not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. I never decided I wouldn’t have anyone.” Dana’s still looking at him in disbelief. “I want someone to. And who better to do so than the second most important woman in my life?” Dana’s eyes get watery and she cocks her head at Jack, silent because she’ll cry if she tries to speak. “You know I mean that and that it’s true,” Jack tells her softly. 

Dana nods at him. “Jack, I…” She fans at her face and grabs a tissue from the nearby box, dabs at her eyes. “You’re pretty important to me too, you know that?” She whispers as she wraps him in another hug. He laughs softly and nods. “I’m so happy for you Jack. For both of you. She’s everything you’ve ever deserved. I’m so glad you found your one.” Dana sniffles and finishes wiping at her eyes. “I’d be very proud to walk you down the aisle.” 

Jack offers Dana his arm and she takes it, the two of them leaving the room and heading to the ceremony space. Robby is waiting for them in the staging space that’s hidden off to the side of the top of the aisle. The three share a look and Robby cues who he needs to so that the music starts. 

Robby walks down first, takes his place at the top of the altar facing the audience, padfolio with his notes in hand. The music changes slightly and Dana and Jack start walking down the aisle. The change in the music is also your cue to wait ten seconds or so and then go to the staging area yourself and wait for your music to hit. 

There are murmurs of approval and appreciation and hums of aw as Dana and Jack walk down the aisle. The only people who have seen Jack in his dress blues before are those who were in his unit. For everyone else, your friends, all of the Pitt family, it’s the first time. He looks good in them, of that there is no question. 

When they hit the end of the aisle Dana rests her cheek against Jack’s and gives him a little cheek kiss as they hug again. “I’m so proud of you Jack. And so, so happy for you,” she whispers to him. “You deserve this, yeah. The both of you do.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” Jack rubs her back a little. “You have no idea how much we appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us. And for me over the years.” 

She nods at him as she pulls away and takes her seat right on the aisle of one side of the front row. Jack walks up the altar and shares a handshake and quick hug with Robby before he settles just in front of him, turning to face the top of the aisle. 

Jack looks around at everyone who came. The ceremony space is completely full. It’s small, but big enough, an intimate ceremony of just you and your closest friends and family. Neither of you wanted something huge. All of Jack’s unit minus one are there with their significant others if they have one, your friend and a few of your closest work friends and what feels like most of the Pitt and their significant others where applicable, plus Dana’s kids, Langdon’s kids, Harrison, Becca and Jake. 

In his mind he notes that it feels like entire damn department is here and he can’t help but wonder who the fuck is staffing it right now. Jack is actually able to smile to himself at the thought despite the small pang. He thought the same exact thing to himself in that nightmare. But this time while it still doesn’t really matter and he doesn’t really care because he’s here with you getting married, he will be going back to that hospital. He lets himself wonder about it more, wonder if Robby somehow pulled off getting nearly an entire moonlighter crew so everyone could be here. 

Jack can’t believe it’s finally time, that he finally gets to see you in your wedding dress and marry you. His heart races and he breathes a little faster and harder in anticipation. He’s sure that if he didn’t have one hand clasping the back of the other and hanging down in front of him they’d be shaking.  

Your photographers get into position so that photos can be captured of both you and Jack seeing each other for the first time. They stay as inconspicuous and as out of the way as possible. 

In the staging area at the top of the aisle your heart is racing just as fast as Jack’s if not a little faster because you still have to walk down the aisle, by yourself, with all eyes on you and not trip or fall or otherwise stumble. And you can’t help the thought of what if he hates my dress from running around your brain. Your bouquet shakes as you hold it with one hand, smooth out your dress with the other as you wait for the music. 

You force yourself to take a couple of deep breaths and pull it together. You know really the anxiety is more eagerness than anything. You just want to be married already, want to be kissing Jack and in his arms and crying about how much you love him. You can’t believe the day is finally here. You remember you get to see him in his dress blues for the first time now and it helps you focus and smile.

The music you’ve chosen to walk down the aisle to starts and you hear Robby ask everyone to stand. You hold your bouquet with both hands low in front of you and take in one last deep breath before you round the corner and hit the top of the aisle. 

Seeing each other for the first time is quickly etched into your memories. Neither of you will ever forget the moment, forget the way you struggled to breathe for a second or how everything and everyone else seemed to fade away. 

Jack’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you, a beaming smile pulling on his face and tears hitting him immediately. “Oh my god,” he breathes out quietly for only Robby to hear as he shakes his head at you a little in disbelief, his first tears of the ceremony starting to stream down his face. 

While everyone is looking at you Jack brings a hand up to his heart and lays it flat over it for a second before closing it into a fist and nodding at you a little. He grabs one of the handkerchiefs from his pocket to wipe at his tears as Robby squeezes his shoulder silently. 

Jack tried to imagine your dress, what it would look like, what you would look like in it and he never got anywhere close. You look perfect in it, more beautiful and stunning than Jack could have ever hoped to imagine. Your dress fits you perfectly, both in fit and in personality. It matches you, your personality and energy, complements your natural beauty without overtaking you. The dress, while gorgeous, isn’t the focus. The focus is you, just as it should be, he thinks. 

You’re a vision as you walk towards him, radiant and ethereal and breathtaking. And somehow you’re his. His girl, his woman. You’re about to be his wife and Jack doesn’t know how he got so fucking lucky. He sniffles as more tears fall that he was to wipe away. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe as you start walking, because Jack steals all the air from you as soon as you look at him. Your eyes glance at the path in front of you and then back to him because you just can’t look anywhere else. You suddenly don’t care if you trip or stumble or fall because you weren’t looking where you were walking, taking in Jack, looking at him and returning his gaze is worth the risk. You return his beaming smile, your eyes tearing up just as his do. 

He’s so handsome. He always is but him in his dress blues on your wedding day is a different type of handsome. He almost looks regal in a sense with how perfectly they fit him and how sharply pressed they are, highlighting his chiseled features. He’s breathtaking, truly. And somehow he’s yours. Your man, your Jack. He’s about to be your husband. The thought makes you laugh to yourself a little as your first tears of the ceremony spill over and onto your cheeks. 

Jack looks at you like you’re the last sight he ever needs to see to die a happy man as you walk towards him, like you’re the only thing that exists in the world right now and the most precious and beautiful thing that exists. Because you are. And you look at him the exact same way, like you’re walking towards your future and the only thing that matters. Because he is. 

The two of you beam at each other even harder as you walk closer and closer to him. Your eyes roam each other more the closer you get, just for a few seconds to take in more details before you look back into the other’s eyes. 

As you reach the end of the aisle you slip your bouquet to Dana and take the hand Jack offers you. “Please be seated.” Robby nods at the audience. 

“Worth the wait I hope?” you whisper to Jack as you stand across from him and face him, voice trembling and more tears sliding down your face.

“You’re,” Jack shakes his head, struggling to come up with any words that could even begin to describe how stunning you look right now. He has to settle for simple. “You’re beautiful, Doll.” You know what he means, know that beautiful means what it always does but that there’s an extra indescribable edge to it right now. You know because it’s how you feel about him. “Gorgeous. There aren’t words,” he whispers to you. 

“That’s how I feel, there aren’t words for you either.” The smile you give him is a little trembly as a fresh wave of overwhelming love hits you. “You’re so handsome, Jack. Unfairly so.” And just like beautiful, handsome also has that edge that Jack recognizes. 

He laughs a little and then Jack can’t help himself. He captures your chin with his thumb and index finger and leans in, steals a kiss from you. It’s your last kiss before you’re married.

“You skipped a couple of steps there, brother,” Robby teases Jack as the two of you settle back in your respective positions facing each other, eliciting a soft laugh from the audience. 

You hold one of Jack’s hands and use the other to wipe at the tears on your face, a mix of yours and Jack’s now. Jack drops your hand for a moment to switch his handkerchief to his other hand so he can reach into his pocket and pull out the second handkerchief. 

It makes you laugh when you take it from him, more tears slip down your face. “Always so prepared.”

“I try.” He smiles at you and wipes away more of his own tears as you do the same before you grab each other’s hands again, one pair of hands less held than the other as you both hang onto handkerchiefs. 

You both know there’s going to be a lot of tears during this ceremony for the two of you and that getting your vows out is going to be difficult. Everyone knows it. Because it’s not just that this is your wedding and you’re so in love and finally getting married. It’s because it almost didn’t happen. Because you’re both so acutely aware of how precious time and your love is. Because Jack was almost planning your funeral and not helping you plan your wedding.  

“Are we all ready now?” Robby smiles, asking not just you and Jack but also your guests. It pulls laughs, and excited calls of yes and it’s about time and finally. It’s perfect, it’s the atmosphere you and Jack wanted. You didn’t want stuffy or overly formal. You wanted it to reflect the two of you and Robby’s question has set the perfect tone. 

“More than,” you laugh softly, squeezing Jack’s hands. 

“More than,” Jack agrees, beaming at you and laughing a little as he returns your squeeze. 

“Great! Well, welcome everybody to what I know will be an emotional but incredibly joyous and fun wedding. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Robby, or Michael, when Jack is mad at me, and I’m their favorite third wheel.” Robby gives a self-satisfied smile as he says it, and you, Jack and the audience all laugh. It’s true. 

“Their love story has not been the easiest. Before they were even engaged they faced challenges most couples, married or otherwise, never have to. And hopefully they’ll never have to again. I also want to say quickly that I got their permission to talk about what happened. I'm not just up here bringing up one of the most traumatic and difficult times of both of their lives individually and their life as a couple.” There’s more laughter from everyone at that. 

As much as you and Jack truly are paying attention to what Robby says, your eyes aren’t coming off one another. For the most part it’s all eye contact, just how Jack loves, but sometimes you both let your eyes wander to take in the other more, you eyes dragging down Jack to appreciate him in his dress blues again and his roaming you to take in you in your dress and every detail of it. 

“God knows they’ve had too much practice but something that stands out about their love to me is their ability to weather their worst days together. It’s one thing to stand next to each other and survive on the best days, when things are great and easy and another to stand next to each other and survive on the worst days, when things truly probably couldn’t get any worse and qualify as one of the worst days of their lives. And I truly mean weathering their worst days together because they’re always there for each other.” Robby takes a moment to let the words linger and glances down at his notes. 

“People say that relationships and love aren’t always 50-50. That sometimes one person is at 10% and so, in the best relationships, the other is at 90%. And that’s them.” He nods as he says it and there’s a few murmurs of agreement from the audience.

“They have this constant give and take, this way of adapting for the other. And if one of them is at 10% and the other falls even lower, to 5%, they’re both able to set their struggle aside for the moment and immediately be at 95% for the other. They never let the other be alone in their struggles or in their joy.” Robby pauses for a second, has to clear his throat, the emotion clearly starting to get to him. “It’s quite incredible to watch.”

Robby shifts his attention to address you and Jack directly. “I am so incredibly happy for the both of you. I have never met two individuals who deserve this happiness and love and life together more. I love you both very much,” his voice trembles a little as he says it, “and I wish you nothing but a lifetime of adventure, laughter, peace, joy and love.” 

You both look up at Robby as he says it. His eyes are glassy, and wet with unshed tears that are threatening to spill over. Jack nods at him, the two sharing a knowing smile. When Robby’s attention shifts to you, you mouth ‘we love you too’ and a few of those unshed tears slip down his cheeks.  

“I’m going to share two moments, my favorite moment that I’ve had with each of you that’s really kind of about the other one of you and then I’ll move this along, I promise.” Robby sniffles, wipes quickly at his eyes and takes a deep breath. You and Jack look back at each other and raise your eyebrows as you both grin in anticipation. You both correctly know you’re about to hear a story you’ve never heard before.

“I’ll start with you Jack. Years ago now, there was a really bad day at work and you and I were walking out into the darkness. You said something about preferring working nights and I asked if you were sick of working them yet and you said that your therapist thought you found comfort in the darkness.” You laugh softly at that, as does the audience. It sounds like Jack. 

“So fast forward two years and we’re walking out of the Pitt together one day as you’re getting off, you know actually it must have been three years and four or five days ago because it was a couple of days before your first anniversary. I asked you if you could cover a shift, fully expecting a yes. I was asking but I was so positive you’d say yes because you’re Jack and you always said yes to working. But you said no.” Robby pulls his mouth together in a grimace and nods at the audience to pull a few laughs. 

“No because it was your first anniversary together. And then,” Robby laughs to himself a little and cocks his head for a second, “like you’re just saying the sky is blue and not about to rock my entire world you said, ‘also, I’m switching to days, it’s better for us.’ I was honestly impressed with myself that I processed that news fast enough to call out a question to you before you were too far away to hear. I yelled at you, ‘I thought you found comfort in the darkness?’ and you turned around and looked at your phone which was definitely a photo of you by that point and smiled as you yelled back ‘guess I find it somewhere else now.’” A soft chorus of ‘aww’ rings through the audience. 

You tilt your head at Jack, chin trembling as your lips press together in a tight smile as you try and keep it together, silently asking him ‘really’ as your eyebrows draw together. Jack’s smile softens, eyes looking at you fondly, almost nostalgically and he squeezes your hands. He gives you a few small nods and your tears return.

“And I knew as I walked back into the Pitt, yes to go straight to Dana to tell her,” everyone laughs loudly at that, including you, Jack and Robby, “that even if you hadn’t told me yet, you were already planning a proposal. Sure enough, a couple of days later you told me you were going to propose, not sure when or how or where yet, but she’s it. She’s the one. ‘She’s my forever,’ I believe are the exact words.”

“Oh Jack,” you whisper just loud enough for him and him alone to hear, more tears falling. You wish that you could hug and kiss him and thank him for making you feel so loved all the time. Because he does and in the moment, hearing that story it’s overwhelming. You’re not sure how you’ll survive his vows. Your hands squeeze his before you drop one and use the handkerchief he gave you to dab at your eyes again and blot up the tears that have already wet your face. Jack remembers that conversation well, remembers how that smile at the end that Robby mentioned lasted his entire walk home. And somehow, he realizes, he loves you even more in this moment than he did then. 

Robby glances at you with a little conspiratorial smile. “And you. Just under two years ago, you and I were sitting in your hospital room talking. It was truly just you and I because Jack was showering. You’d been out of your coma for just shy of two days so we’d really known each other and had the opportunity to talk for five-ish days or so I wanna say. So we’re talking and you ask me to go to the grocery store for you. I said ‘sure of course, just make me a list.’” Robby nods a little as he remembers while he speaks.

“I give you my little notepad and a pen and it took you maybe five minutes to write down this fairly long grocery list. I remember thinking it was great that you had all these things you wanted and had an appetite and us having a battle about me taking your card to pay for things but anyway I take the list and after my shift I go, don’t think much of it.” He shrugs, glances at you and then the audience. You already know what’s coming and you know that you never told Jack.  

“I get to the store and start shopping and realize two things. First, that the list isn’t quite as long as I initially thought because you’d written brand names and specific flavors for things. And second,” he pauses to laugh a little, “every single thing on that list was one of Jack’s favorite things. Every single thing, I swear to god.”

Robby’s nodding at Jack, not that Jack sees it. He’s far too focused on you, asking you a ‘really’ with his eyes the same way you did, tears threatening to wet his face and a wobbly smile. And just like him you give him a few nods, squeeze his hands. 

“So I call you and you answer and said ‘hey if you’re looking for Jack he’s down getting the dinner delivery he ordered so he might not be able to answer.’ And I’m like ‘no I’m looking for you. I’m at the store and this list is all for Jack. Is there anything you want?’ You tell me ‘No, I put what matters and what we need on it.’” Robby glances at you, smiles at the way you’re looking at Jack.   

“I press you, ‘okay but are you sure?’ You said ‘Robby, please. He’s not eating enough here and it’s not healthy for him. He can’t eat big meals right now, he just picks at everything and you and I both know him and know he’s a snacker, a grazer. But he doesn’t have any snacks here. So he’s not really eating. Please. The list is what we need. What I need.’” 

Jack’s hands squeeze yours again, harder this time as ‘what I need’ echoes in his mind and tears slide down his face. You were focused on him during that time, you were watching him and taking care of him without him knowing it. It’s so you and he could almost drown in it, your love for him. “Doll,” it’s whispered, barely audible to you with how his voice cracks over it, hand dropping yours to wipe away his tears. Your heart aches in the moment from how much you love him. Like Jack you remember this story fairly well despite your health status at the time because it was the first super personal conversation you had with Robby. You can remember the genuine anxiety you had at the time because Jack wasn’t eating enough and it scared you. And also like Jack, somehow, you realize, you love him even more in this moment than you did then. 

“We hung up and it really sank in as I walked around shopping. You were just shot, had multiple major surgeries, a skull fracture, you had been out of a coma for less than 48 hours and you’re worried about Jack.” Robby shakes his head and lets out a small incredulous laugh. “You’re noticing Jack not eating enough and that he’s not eating big meals and remembering that he’s a snacker. You’re still pretty heavily medicated and you’re pulling out brand names and flavors of Jack’s favorite things. That’s when I knew if he asked you’d say yes and, selfishly in a way, it’s when I was convinced that you were the one for him and when I knew I wanted him to ask you.” All three of you, and probably close to the whole damn audience, have to take a second to clean up your tears.

“And so here we are today. At your wedding. You were two strangers in a bookstore. There was nothing between you. But from that nothing you slowly forged what has to be the most beautiful and profound love I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.” Robby’s voice wobbles and he pauses for a second, lets out a breath. 

“These two have decided to write their own vows, so get your tissues ready, I’m sure.” After deciding on personal vows you and Jack had decided to end them with five promises to each other. “Jack, we’ll start with you.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and drops one of your hands so that he can grab his vows from his pocket. 

He starts with your name, squeezing your hand that he’s still holding. “I’m going to start with some honesty,” he gives you a little smile. “I struggled to write these. Not because I couldn’t think of what to say but because there’s too much to say, there’s too much I want to tell you and promise you, too much you deserve to hear. And I could stand here and talk for hours and say all the words and it would never be enough to tell you how much I love you, how deep my love for you runs or how embedded in my soul you, and my love for you and your love for me is.” You start to cry because you know how much he means it and because you get it, feel the exact same way. 

“Doll, you are easily the biggest overthinker I know,” he laughs a little as he says it, smiling at you while you and the audience also laugh. He glances down at his vows before looking into your eyes again. He did his best to memorize them so that he can look you in your eyes as he speaks his vows to you. “And I say that with all the love in the world, I truly do, because I know it means that you have thought of every single reason not to love me or marry me and yet here you are. Loving me. Marrying me. You jumped head first and with your eyes wide open into loving me and you’ll never know what it means to me to have that kind of pure acceptance,” Jack’s voice trembles, “and to know that you’ve seen every bad part of me, every flaw and imperfection and have overthought it all and that you,” he has to stop as his voice breaks and he sucks in a shuddery breath to stifle the smallest sob. He just barely clears his throat, like he knows that he’s going to have to choke out his next line and pause after it regardless of how much he tries to prepare now. “And that you accept it all and choose to love me despite all my flaws and imperfections.” It almost sounds whispered with how raw and hoarse his voice is as he says it, but everyone hears it. Jack sniffles, drops your hand and takes a few seconds to wipe the tears from his face and collect himself before taking your hand again and continuing.

“You truly have no idea just how much you save me every day, heal a little piece of me with every smile and kiss and ‘Peter.’ You’re my comfort,” he tilts his head and gives you a lopsided grin that meets his eyes hard as he echoes what he told Robby two years ago, this time straight to you with tears flowing down both of your cheeks, “my salvation and my strength. You’re my home and my world. I told you once that you’re my best everything and I mean it. You are my best everything. You are the greatest and best part of me. I love you more than I know what to do with or how to show you.” You dab at your eyes almost continuously with your free hand, Jack’s words searing themselves into your brain and heart, especially with how he’s looking straight into your soul through your eyes as he talks to you. 

“And of all the things I might accomplish in this life,” Jack sniffles and clears his throat so his voice is a little stronger again, “the only thing I care to be remembered for is being your husband and being lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.” You cover your mouth with your handkerchief at that and stifle your own small sob while you squeeze Jack’s hand, hoping he understands that you’re saying the same is true for you. He knows. He always knows. 

Jack glances down at his vows again and straight back up to you. “So I promise to be honest, to be loyal and faithful and always have your back as your biggest supporter and your greatest source of encouragement. I promise I will always be here for you, that I will always be your refuge. I promise to always fight for you and for us. I promise to never take you or your love for granted and to always remember just how lucky I am to be able to call you mine.” He pauses to smile at you, tilt his head and squeeze your hand to emphasize the last one before he says it. “And I promise to love you with all of me through anything and everything life might throw our way.” 

It’s hard to resist the urge you have to hug him and kiss him and hold him close for five minutes straight while you both just cry tears of love and happiness into each other. Because you want to. You’ve never felt more loved or moved in your life. It’s almost difficult to comprehend in a way, that those words were just spoken by the love of your life to you. That someone feels that way about you and loves you this much. You’re not sure you deserve it but you take it in as best you can while he puts his vows away and wipes at his face. And Jack feels it too, that urge to hug you and kiss you and try to show you how much he loves you because he knows his words, while clearly impactful, fell far short of expressing his love for you. Like he said, he could never truly tell you what you mean to him and how much he loves you because the words don’t exist.

It’s quiet once Jack finishes, only sniffles from everyone present filling the air for a moment. Robby reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, your vows that you’d given him to hold onto for you this morning. “And now you,” he says softly, giving you a supportive nod as the two of you share a look while you take your vows from him. 

“Oh man, this feels so unfair, I can barely see through the tears.” You sniffle a soft laugh the audience joins you in, handkerchief at your eyes trying to soak up all the tears. You take in a deep breath before opening your folded vows and looking back up into Jack’s eyes. “Jack,” you start, “I love you.” You let out a small laugh because it’s such a simple way to open, glance down at your vows. Like Jack you’d memorized them to the best of your ability so you can look him in the eyes.  

“I swear this next part is written down,” you wave your vows at him and then the audience. “Writing these was much harder than I thought it was going to be,” you tilt your head and give him a look, “not because I couldn’t think of anything to say to you but because what do you tell the person that’s everything to you? I couldn’t figure out how to distill how I feel about you and how much I love you into words, and I still haven’t because nothing I say will ever be enough to even scratch the surface of how much I love you and what you mean to me.” Your voice catches thick in your throat as you shake your head a little at him while you speak, eyes narrowing slightly to emphasize your words.

“The thing about you Peter, is that you see me, all of me, to an extent I didn’t think was possible. You always use that x-ray vision they pulled you aside to teach you in your last year of med school,” you laugh a little as you say it and Jack lets out a short but proper laugh at your words because they’re unexpected and of course you would remember that, “to see right through me and know how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. There is nothing that makes me feel more loved than when you take a single look at me and know exactly what I need without me speaking a single word. And when we’re together that’s an hourly occurrence.” You blot at your eyes again quickly and glance at your vows before finding Jack’s eyes again and continuing.

“You take what you see and you use it. Use it to love me and take care of me and heal me, even if you don’t consciously realize it. I’ve come to realize that you know me better than myself because you see me more than I see myself. And you always, without fail, see the best in me even when I show you the worst of me.” You take in a deep, shuddery breath as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “I am quite sure that has to be love in one of its simplest and purest forms. And that’s how you love me. I couldn’t be luckier.” Your voice is so thick and heavy with your tears you worry that you’re getting to be unintelligible but Jack’s reaction, the fast run of big tears and his trembling lip, and the increase in sniffles you hear from the audience make it clear everyone heard. 

Your gaze intensifies, eyes boring into Jack’s. “You’re my whole world and my entire heart. My rock and my constant. My biggest supporter and my protector. You’re everything. You are my everything and everything to me, Jack.” Your voice breaks on his name but you don’t clear your throat. You let it be raw and higher pitched as you finish. “Please never forget that.” Jack shakes his head slightly and squeezes your hand to tell you that he won’t and lets out the quietest choked sob, handkerchief damp with his tears just like yours with yours. His heart aches now with your love for him.

You clear your throat, take another shuddery deep breath and collect yourself. “I promise to always be your best student in medicine and otherwise, to never stop learning about you or how best to love you. I promise to never stop trying, to never give up on you or on us. I promise you my faithfulness, my honesty and my loyalty and my unwavering support in everything and to always be your safe space where you never have to hide. I promise to love you all the time, especially in the moments you’re struggling to love yourself. And I promise to never stop falling more in love with you.” 

Again, Jack fights the urge to hug and kiss and be close to you that you both fought after he made his vows to you. He’s never felt more loved, never felt so good. He struggles to comprehend it too, that someone loves him as much as you do, needs him the way you do. But you do and he knows it and he beams at you as you both wipe your tears. He takes your vows from you and folds them, slips them in his pocket next to his. You squeeze each other’s hand again, and you do your best to let it take the place of the hug and kiss you’re desperate to give him. You know you have a whole life to hug and kiss him as you please and that you’re going to feel this same overwhelming love in both directions in a few minutes when Robby says you can finally kiss. In this moment you just hope Jack has a fraction of a clue of how much you love him and need him and looking at him and seeing how he looks at you, you’re pretty sure he does.

“Well,” Robby says quietly. “I think we all need a moment after those.” Sniffled laughter rings out from the audience as Robby does give everyone a moment to dry their eyes and collect themselves. Even you and Jack both manage to get your tears to stop, if only for a little. “I’ll now ask you both to affirm your vows and declare your intent.” 

Robby turns to Jack first. “Jack, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Jack’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists as he says the words clear and strong, not a hint of hesitation to be found anywhere. 

“And do you,” Robby’s attention turns to you as he says your name, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” You beam at Jack as you say it and you’ve never exuded such confidence. You say it like it’s the easiest and simplest thing in the world.

“And now for the exchange of rings.” Robby’s voice is a little shaky. He grabs them both out of his breast pocket. “Very beautiful rings at that.” He says, sniffling and clearing his throat, a low hum of laughter sounding at his attempt to hide his emotions. He holds them in his palm in front of you and Jack, the padfolio with his notes in his other hand. 

Robby takes in a deep breath. “Your rings symbolize your love for one another. Love freely given and chosen every day with no beginning or end and with no true giver or receiver as you both give and receive equally, unbroken and infinite and yours alone. When you look at your rings be reminded of this moment, of the vows you’ve made to each other today, and of your unending and ever growing love for each other.” 

He offers his palm to Jack who picks up your ring. You raise your left hand and spread your fingers so Jack can hover your wedding ring at the start of your ring finger. Your hand shakes, no matter how hard try to keep it still the excitement and disbelief and joy and love win and it keeps shaking. Jack supports your hand with his free one, has it upturned, fingers resting against your palm and the length of your fingers, thumb wrapping gently over the side of your hand and resting on the back of it. Jack’s eyes return to yours and with it the intense eye contact you share, have been sharing most of your time up here. His eyes are glassy as he smiles at you. But you catch the slight tremble of his lips. 

“Jack, repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” Jack’s eyes grow glassier as more tears form.  

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” A few tears slide down Jack’s cheeks, his voice breaking around ‘always.’ You reach out with your right hand instinctively and use your handkerchief to blot some of his tears from his face making him laugh a little. From his face your hand goes to your own where tears have started to fall. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring,” Jack has to pause for a second to collect himself and clear his throat, “I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” He’s smiling at you as he says it, tears still wetting his face as he breaks eye contact with you to watch as he slides your wedding ring all the way onto your finger. 

You watch as he does too, wear the biggest grin when you look back up at each other. You widen your eyes at him in a silent oh my god I have a wedding ring, we just did that. 

Robby holds his palm out for you and you take Jack’s wedding ring. Jack holds his left hand out and spreads his fingers just like you did. And his hand shakes just as badly as yours did as you hover his wedding ring at the start of his finger. Your free hand comes to support his left as he did for you. 

Robby glances at you. “Repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” You press your lips together hard but they pull upward in a smile, tears still flowing from listening to Jack declare the same thing to you and trying to prevent the emotion from fully clouding your voice this early.

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” You make it just a little further than Jack, the tears slipping into your voice and making it break at ‘in.’ 

Neither you nor Jack really stopped crying since you started again when Jack gave you your ring, nor have either of you stopped smiling through your tears. So, like you, Jack uses his handkerchief to wipe away some of your tears before doing the same for himself and his own. He’s careful too, dabbing like he’s observed you doing so that he doesn’t smear your makeup. You fight the urge his care and attention gives you to cry a little harder. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring, I marry you,” you pause to sniffle, try and steady your voice in vain, “and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” You have to break eye contact again so you can both watch as you slide his wedding band all the way onto his finger. Once it’s on you both watch as Jack closes his hand into a fist and reopens it as he gets used to having a ring. 

You’re both wide eyed as you hold hands again and slowly look back up at each other, almost in disbelief because this is it. You both have rings, have made vows and declared your intent. Robby is about to say it. Grins pull up onto your face, breaking quickly into huge beaming smiles. You’re both so overwhelmed with love in the moment, tears flow a little harder and you both giggle softly.

“And now by the very limited authority vested in me,” Robby nods at you and Jack and grabs both of your handkerchiefs from you, not that either of you see him or do much more than release them when you feel him pull, still focused on each other, still beaming so hard your cheeks hurt, “I pronounce you husband and wife. May your first act of marriage be one of love. You may now kiss for the first time as husband and wife.” As soon as he’s done speaking, Robby moves off the altar to the side so that it’ll just be you and Jack in photos, your friends and family cheering and clapping loudly for you, a couple of people whistling. 

Without hesitation you and Jack move in synchrony, both of you taking a half step towards the other to close the small distance between you, your bodies pressing against one another. Jack brings his hands up to your face, his thumbs resting gently above your jawline as his other fingers hold your neck. Your hands find the sides of his upper arms and wrap around them as much as possible. You both somehow smile a little bigger as you keep looking each other in the eyes for a second, your hands. Your heads tilt in opposite directions automatically as you lean in and kiss for the first time as a married couple. 

The kiss is perfect. Short and chaste but so much more than enough to at least begin to convey all the emotions both of you are feeling, the excitement and disbelief and joy and overwhelming love. There’s so much love in the kiss it almost makes both of you dizzy. It lingers just long enough but not too long. When it ends you steal another couple quickly. “I love you,” you giggle against Jack’s lips. 

“I love you too,” Jack chuckles a little.

Your arms wrap around Jack’s neck, one hand staying to hold the side of his face as his hands are moving so that one arm wraps around you, hand splaying against your back as his other hand grips your waist. He pulls you tight against him and then tucks you under him as he spins you a little and smoothly dips you as he kisses you again, just like he did when you first visited and selected the venue. You finish one kiss and smile against each other’s lips for a second before you kiss again and Jack returns you upright just as smoothly as he dipped you.  

When you’re standing again you and Jack pull apart, and the audience quiets just enough as Robby steps back onto the altar so that he can introduce you. “Family and friends, I’m honored and thrilled to introduce to you for the first time the Abbots!”

You’re sure you must grin like a love-drunk idiot when Robby calls you the Abbots but you genuinely couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’re truly just that happy. And Jack’s smiling just as hard at you as he laces your hand with his and you both turn towards the audience. You grab your bouquet from Dana in your other hand and exchange smiles with her before turning back to Jack to share a glance and make your way back up the aisle, smiling and thanking your friends and family who are clapping for you once again as you do. 

You and Jack walk hand in hand to the small room you’ve set aside to have thirty minutes with each other before you take photos while your guests enjoy cocktail hour. Your makeup artist has already graciously left you some redness clearing eyedrops and the caterer dropped off some appetizers for the two of you to enjoy. You figured it was a good way to give your eyes a chance to recover from crying even though your photographer can edit them out and to get some food because you’ve been told it gets hectic and the bride and groom often don’t get to eat much. But more than anything it’s just thirty minutes alone together as husband and wife. 

Once you’re both in the room with the door locked you can finally give into the urges to be close and hold each other that you were both fighting the entire ceremony. 

Your arms slide around Jack’s neck as his slide around your back, pulling you as close to him as he can get while still being able to kiss you. Because kiss you Jack does. He starts fairly chaste, more a series of kisses than anything but they grow more fervent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to coax your mouth open for him. When you do he’s quick to lick into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He lets you into his mouth when your tongue seeks it out, sucks slightly to pull another pretty moan from you, a small groan escaping him when you nip at his bottom lip and suck at it before letting him dive back into you.

You finally break apart when you’re no longer able to get enough oxygen in through your nose alone. You rest your foreheads together for a second before you move you to have your face nuzzling against his neck so that your chests can be pressed against each other more as you hold each other. 

“I wanted to do this so bad during the ceremony,” you murmur. “Just hug and hold you and be hugged and held by you. I just wanted to be close after everything that we said.” 

Jack squeezes you tighter, rocks you both a little. “I did too Doll, believe me.”

The two of you stand there holding each other and relishing in your closeness for what has to be five minutes. You’re both silent save the occasional soft hum at the right touch. You’re silent but you’re still talking to each other with your hands, where they wander and rub and squeeze. Both of you are reflecting on what you said to each other at the ceremony, what was said to you by the other, observations Robby made. It’s hard to believe it’s real. You made it here together and are now standing holding each other as husband and wife. 

Jack takes great care not to mess up your hair as he lets one of his hands find the back of your neck and pulls your face from him gently. “Let me really look at you and your dress now, yeah?” he murmurs as his eyes find yours before you can whine about being pulled away from him. 

“Only if I can also really look at you.” You smile and are already releasing him and stepping back for him as you say it. You know he’ll let you. He won’t understand why you want to, but he’ll let you. 

“Course,” he whispers distractedly as he takes his own step back and starts really taking in your dress, taking in every detail and walking around you to see the entire thing. The same feelings and thoughts as when he saw you for the first time rush through him. “Doll,” he breathes out once he’s in front of you again, “you are truly stunning. You always are but this, you in your wedding dress, fuck, it’s something else.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it but once he finishes they quickly drop again, sweeping over your dress and back up to your eyes. “There really aren’t words.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, awkward at accepting compliments, even from him. But you don’t need to say more, Jack knows. He knows what his words mean to you and how they make you feel. “Let me see you, please.” Jack nods and your eyes rake over his body. He turns for you slowly, lets you take him in. “You are so unfairly handsome, Jack, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Like with him, your feelings and thoughts when you saw him the first time hit you all over again. “Always are, but this,” you let out a soft laugh and shake your head slightly, “like you said, it’s something else. No words.”

A light flush hits Jack’s neck and cheeks. He struggles accepting compliments at times just like you. “Thank you.” He doesn’t need to say more either, and you share another kiss and wrap each other in a tight hug again, communicating so much with every touch. You stay wrapped in each other like that for at least a minute if not a little longer. 

“Wanna sit? Have some food?” Jack finally murmurs. He would stand here holding you forever if you asked. Happily.

You nod, take his hand as he releases you and guides you over to the couch, food on the table in front of it, along with the eyedrops. “Here.” You grab the eyedrops and a tissue, put a couple drops in each eye. “To help with the redness.”

“You really thought of everything didn’t you?” Jack grabs them from you and then the tissue, puts a few in each eye and uses the tissue to catch anything that falls over. 

“Makeup artist,” you admit. “She was on it.” 

“She was,” Jack murmurs. “Even though you don’t need it in the slightest, your makeup does look exceptional.” He leans in for a quick kiss before turning to pull the table the food is on closer to the couch.

“Wait! Before we eat, move my engagement ring back!” You hold out both hands. 

He chuckles a little at your excitement. You could easily move it back yourself but you want him to and it’s adorable. “Alright, Doll.” Jack smiles at you as he slides your engagement ring off your right hand and brings it over a little and slides it right back down your left ring finger until it sits atop your wedding band perfectly. He brings your hand up and kisses your rings before he lets go of your hand. “Perfect.”

You giggle a little as you look down at your left hand and wiggle your finger a little to watch all the diamonds catch the light. Jack smiles as he watches you, drinks you in and tries to memorize the moment and how happy and gorgeous you look. “Hey, guess what?” You look back up at him.

“What?”

You shift a little closer to him and place your hands on his chest. “You’re my husband now,” you slide your hands up his neck to hold his face, “and I’m your wife.”

Jack’s eyes darken, jaw tensing and breathing picking up just slightly. His hands wrap over yours where they rest against his face and neck. “My wife,” he breathes out. 

His lips are on yours, all consuming from the get go, no soft lead-up like he usually does. His kisses are insistent, tongue tasting you again and pulling a little moan from the back of your throat. The sound spurs him on, Jack’s hands moving, arms wrapping around you as he leans you back onto the couch, one hand supporting your neck and helping you keep it up enough so that your hair is protected as your head almost lays against the armrest of the couch. It’s an awkward position with your legs still over the edge of the couch but neither of you care or even particularly notice, getting lost in each other, heavy exhales through your noises and sloppy kissing sounds filling the room.  

“Jack.” You try to say his name as a warning but it comes out far too breathy to be remotely effective. He doesn’t like that you’ve pulled away, his lips chasing yours as he makes a noise of discontent. “You really want our first time as husband and wife to be a quickie in a random room?”

“I mean…it’s a nice couch,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Jack.” Your hands push at his chest a little so that he’ll look at you. 

“No, no, I know you’re right, I just.” He groans and rests his forehead against your chest for a second before looking back up at you and helping you sit back upright.  “I just want you. Really bad. My wife.”

“I know.” You give him a soft smile and kiss on the cheek. “And please don’t think I don’t want you. I do. Just as badly as you want me.”

“No, I know, I don’t think that,” he assures you. “You’re right. I want to be able to go slow and take my wife apart piece by piece for our first time as husband and wife.” 

His words make you shiver. “Yeah,” you breathe out and nod, eyes flicking all over his face and down his body before coming back up. “I want to be able to do that to my husband too.” 

Jack groans, leans his forehead against yours. “The anticipation makes it better, right?”

You let out a small laugh. “Sure does, Peter.” You give him another quick kiss. “Let’s have some food.” Jack nods and pulls his forehead away. 

You and Jack both start to eat, still side by side and leaning into each other a little. “Oh, what’s the ring on your right hand?” Jack asks in between bites. 

“Mm,” you hum as you finish chewing and swallowing. “My something borrowed, which reminds me. Thank you. For doing that for me, arranging it.” You look down at the ring. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to do it until I had everything.” You return your eyes to Jack’s and smile at him. 

“It felt like you were a little more bummed about not doing it than you were admitting to yourself. And none of them felt burdened by it, if anything they were all excited to have that extra bit of involvement.” He raises his eyebrows a little and cocks his head just a little, the slightest I told you so smile pulling onto his face. 

“I’m ignoring that look on purpose,” you tell him before taking a bite and grinning at him. Jack just laughs and shakes his head, takes a bite of his own. “But the ring is from Dana, obviously. She said it’s been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for a hundred and two years and there’s not been a single divorce,” you explain after you finish your bite. 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he tilts his head to silently say impressive as he chews. “Then something new you obviously know about which we’re circling back to in a second.” You grab your bouquet from the table. “Heather’s something old was this locket.” You hand the bouquet to Jack so he can see. 

“It’s very pretty.” He runs his thumb over the front. 

“It is. She got it at an antique store and said hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience and she thought that was fitting for us.” You rest your hand on Jack’s upper arm and squeeze a little. “Open it.” 

It should be more difficult than it is for Jack with how big his hands and how thick his fingers are but practicing medicine has given him phenomenal dexterity. You’re intimately familiar with how good his dexterity is. “Oh, wow,” Jack murmurs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting but not that. “Our first picture together.”

You beam at Jack even though he can’t see because he’s still looking at the picture. “She got it off my phone one night when we were out. Very sneaky,” you laugh. “And then apparently the rhyme ends with ‘a sixpence in your shoe.’ Mel wasn’t sure if anyone was getting one so she got one and we attached it to my shoe.” You hold it out for Jack to see. “But about this something new, Jack Abbot.”

“You skipped something blue.” Jack raises his brows at you slightly as he takes another bite. 

You shake your head, smirking just a little. “No, something blue is for you to see later.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion just a touch but you watch as they dilate a little because he knows it has to be something below your dress based on your smirk. “What if I want to see it now?” he rasps. 

“Then you’ll have to be patient.” You shrug at him. “Something new. Jack, it’s beautiful.” You hold up your wrist to admire the bracelet. “It’s so much and it complements my rings perfectly.” You can feel your eyes start to burn a little and you have to look away from the bracelet and Jack so that you don’t start crying again and render the eyedrops useless. 

“You deserve it,” Jack murmurs, making you shake your head and tilt it back so you don’t cry. “It’s about the least you deserve, Doll.” You reach blindly for his thigh and squeeze it as a thank you and way to say all the words you can’t at the moment. “And let’s talk about my something new.” That gets you to laugh a little and after a big breath you’re able to look at him. “It’s incredible.” Jack holds his wrist out this time, pulling his sleeves up a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something this nice or been given such an amazing gift.” He runs a finger along the circular face of the watch. 

You’re smiling at him when he looks up at you. It’s soft and reflects so much love with the extra little squint of your eyes. “You deserve it. It’s about the least you deserve, Peter,” you repeat Jack’s words back to him, mean them just as much.

He smiles at you, just a hint of some shakiness in his lips before leaning in to kiss you. Like your thigh squeeze his kiss is a thank you and everything else he can’t say. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away, smiling softly at you.  

“I love you too.” You give him another little thigh squeeze. 

You and Jack continue to chat as you finish eating your appetizers. You still have some time left once your done and Jack pulls you into his lap and leans back into the couch as he holds you. You both revel in the closeness and soft touches. 

There’s a knock on the door and you know your time is up. “Guess I have to go share you with everyone again.” You pout at Jack playfully. 

He chuckles and kisses your out turned lip. “I know how you feel Doll.” He gives you a real kiss once you get rid of your pout and then is up and opening the door.

Waiting outside it for you are your photographer, your makeup artist, Robby, Dana, and your friend. “Marriage license time,” Robby sings a little as he walks in holding up the paper. 

All of you sign it, Dana and your friend acting as your two witnesses. You say goodbye and they head back to cocktail hour while you get your makeup touched up and you and Jack meet with your photographer for photos, take what feels like a thousand all over the place. You both know it’s going to be hard to choose which ones to get printed and hang. 

Just before you finish taking photos your wedding coordinator gets everyone to the reception space and seated for dinner. When you do finish she lets Robby know and hands him the mic. You’d also roped him in to quasi-emceeing for you. 

He introduces you as you and Jack walk into the reception space. “Alright everybody, for the second ever time, let’s give a warm welcome to the Abbots!” Your guests all cheer and clap for you as you and Jack make your way over to your sweetheart table and sit down, Jack pulling your chair out and offering you his hand to help you sit like he always does. 

“Okay, so,” Robby starts as dinner begins to be served. “Obviously dinner is being served. The bride and groom decided to let whoever wants to give a speech give one during dinner. But you have to give it before they give their own right before the first dance.” 

“I’m not going to give a full one since I really already got to at the altar. But, I just want to say again that you both mean so much to me and I am so happy for you guys. I wish you all the happiness in the world, you both deserve it so so much and deserve each other and your love. So here’s to the Abbot’s,” Robby raises his glass and everyone follows, “I love you both dearly.” He tilts his glass at you and the sound of glasses clinking together fills the room for a few seconds before it stops when sips are taken. 

Quite a few people give speeches over the course of dinner, Dana, Heather, your friend, Jack’s unit gets up and gives one together, some of the Pitt crew copying and getting up in small groups to say a few words. You and Jack laugh and chat together in between them, stay close to each other and pick off each other’s plates. You’d deliberately gotten different options so you could share, something you frequently do when you eat out. 

Once you’re done eating and signal to Robby he gets up and calls out to see if there are any last speeches and hands you and Jack the microphone when everyone stays seated. You and Jack take turns speaking to all of your friends and family, keep it short because you know everyone’s attention spans for speeches are worn by this point. 

After you finish Robby takes the microphone back, gives you and Jack a second to get out on the dance floor. He keeps the introduction simple. “And now we get to watch them have their first dance as husband and wife.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whisper to Jack as you start to dance when your song begins playing. 

“I know,” he murmurs back as he beams at you. “After all the planning and waiting for this day to come here we are.” You and Jack are really swaying to the music more than anything. You didn’t learn a dance or really practice. It just wasn’t your style as a couple. 

“You know I’ve been thinking about this moment since you danced with me up on the roof.” Your eyes start to grow a little shiny. 

Jack smirks a little and flicks his eyebrows up. “We weren’t even engaged then.”

You shake your head. “No, we weren’t. But I hoped and dreamed we would be one day and while we were dancing and ever since then I had moments where I really thought about it and what it would be like. Our first dance at our wedding.” 

“You wanna know a secret?” Jack’s grinning at you. 

“Always.”

“I came about three seconds away from proposing up there on the roof that night,” he admits with a little laugh. 

Your jaw falls open a little. “Really?” Jack nods at you with an amused smile. “Why didn’t you?” You’re smiling back at him now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock of his unexpected revelation. 

Jack hums for a second. “I didn’t think the roof of the hospital I work at and you were currently a patient at really screamed romantic or place to propose. And you were in the hospital. You’d been shot and almost died and I didn’t want it to feel like that’s why I was proposing. Because of what happened or because I felt like I had to or anything along those lines.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” you murmur. Jack nods. He knows. He knew then too, but it still worried him and at the end of the day he didn’t want to propose on the roof of the hospital. “Did you have the ring with you?”

“No,” he laughs, “nope, I was just going to get down on one knee and do it and promise you there was a ring waiting at home and send Robby to go get it.” He pauses for a second. “I was also worried you would get so excited you’d somehow manage to accidentally pull your central line out and it would go from cute date night scene to bloody crime scene with my hand clamped over your neck real quick.” 

“That would not have been ideal.” Jack spins you at the right point in the music and it and his words make you giggle a bit. “Would have been a hell of a story though.” 

“Oh, it would have been something,” he laughs. You both smile at each other fondly, glad you’ve gotten to a point where you can talk about what happened with some humor and not feel a total ache inside. 

“I love you,” you whisper to him, “more than anything.” You stick your lips out and Jack leans down as you continue to dance and gives you the kiss you ask for. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips, “more than anything.” He steals another couple of kisses from you before straightening back up as the song starts to end. “I’m going to dip you,” he murmurs quickly.

And as the music ends Jack dips you and kisses you again, just like he did at the altar. You smile into it before the kiss breaks and you keep your foreheads together as Jack brings you back upright. “Always so smooth,” you laugh. 

“Only for you, Doll,” he murmurs, pulling his forehead from yours and giving you a quick forehead kiss while your guests clap and the DJ puts on a fast song, everyone heading to the dance floor.

The party really starts then, the DJ doing a great job of playing all the right songs to get people dancing and having a good time with you and Jack out on the dance floor. He mixes in a few slow songs and you and Jack enjoy watching who pairs up with who and getting to take a few minutes to focus back on each other and check in. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jack tells you with a quick kiss after a slower song finishes and a fast one starts. 

“You better be,” you say with mock sternness in your tone and on your face, Jack rolling his eyes playfully at you. He walks off the dance floor and shrugs his jacket off and lays it over his chair at the sweetheart table and undoes a button of his shirt. 

Jack keeps his promise, making his way back to you from behind and pulling you close as he starts dancing with you again. “Fast enough?” He yells over the music. 

“I suppose.” You turn your head up to look back at him, huge smile on your face. Your eyebrows raise and you spin in his arms when you notice the lack of jacket and open button. “Hot?”

“Not anymore.” Jack smirks at you and pulls you back close to him to dance. 

You and Jack get separated a bit as you dance. And when another slow song starts Robby cuts in just before Jack can get to you. “May I have this dance?” He offers you his hand. “Don’t even start Jack, the officiant is allowed a dance with the bride, it’s just the rules.” Robby smirks, giving Jack a look.  

You laugh softly at Robby’s playful over-formalness. “You may,” you nod at him, take his hand. “Next one, Peter.” You wink at Jack.

“It’s true Jack, Robby’s right,” Dana playfully chides him. “Plus I think you owe me a dance.” 

“I suppose you did walk me down the aisle.” Jack smiles and steps away from you and Robby before offering his hand to Dana. 

You and Robby start dancing, really just swaying around the dance floor more than anything. “I had an interesting conversation with your husband while he was getting ready earlier.” 

You’re smiling at Robby the entire time, but your eyes light up and you beam at him when he calls Jack your husband. “My husband,” you just have to say the words, make a little face of excitement. “And what did you and my husband talk about?”  

Robby’s quiet for a moment as he thinks of what exactly he wants to say. “I started by telling him that the two of you were idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love, because I know you have the same thoughts as him at times.” Your mouth drops open a little and you scoff playfully. It’s definitely not what you expected him to say. “And then I said some rendition of this. You said he’s your everything and I know he is. Everyone here knows he is, we all believe you. I see the way you look at him and hear the way you talk about him. But, you have to know that you are everything to Jack in that same way, that same capacity. He looks at you and talks about you in the same way you do about him. The way that you love him and feel about him and the intensity of your love for him, it’s all exactly the same as how Jack loves you and feels about you and how intense his love for you is. You think he deserves your love, right?” 

“He does,” you affirm quietly as you nod. 

“Yeah,” Robby nods, “he does. And you deserve his love just the same. I told Jack that I think today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept it. That you deserve Jack and his love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love Jack.” Robby’s giving you a small, knowing smile, eyebrows slightly raised as he nods just a little at you. 

You have to look away for a moment. “Robby, I,”  you start, but never finish. His words hit you just as hard as they hit Jack. As hard as it is for you to believe and admit you know Robby is right. 

“It’s okay,” you can hear the smile in Robby’s voice and you look back at him. “You don’t have to say anything. I just told Jack I’d give you the same spiel.” 

You laugh softly. “What was his reaction? It had to involve your therapist.”

Robby laughs properly at that. “Yeah, you know him well. He said our therapist was rubbing off on me and asked if I was thinking of leaving him to become a psychologist.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds like him.” You and Robby share a quiet laugh together, your eyes drifting across the dance floor until you spot Jack. You watch him and Dana dance for a moment, both of them smiling and laughing. It makes your heart warm. 

“You’re really good for him, you know?” Robby watches you watch Jack. You pull your eyes back to him and flash an apologetic smile for ignoring him a little for a second there. “I’ve never really had the chance to tell you that. But you’re really really good for him. You’re what he needed.” 

You give Robby a small smile. “Yeah, he was what I needed too. What I need.”

“I know it sounds like something people say just to say, but please try to believe me when I tell you that I have never seen that man happier than I have since you’ve been in his life.” Robby smiles and tilts his head. “And thank you. For loving and helping the people around him too.” 

“You’re family. All of you. And thank you, Michael,” your voice shakes just slightly. “For everything.” 

Robby huffs a laugh and looks away from you for a second. “That was a very targeted use of Michael meant to make me cry again.”  

You both laugh as the song ends and move towards the edge of the dance floor. “It wasn’t deliberate,” you whisper as you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It just felt like the right moment.” 

“Am I allowed to have my wife back now?” 

“Of course,” Robby tells him as you both turn to greet Jack and it’s almost like you’re magnetized the way you both seamlessly move towards each other, your hand sliding to rest on Jack’s back as his arm wraps around your waist. He gives you a reassuring little squeeze and kiss to your temple and you rest your other hand on his chest. 

“He gave me the spiel.” You look up at Jack with a gentle smile. 

“Ah,” Jack nods, “good. You should listen to him.” 

“You both should listen to me!” Robby scoffs playfully. “Once again, you’re both idiots sometimes.” 

“Thank you for not putting that in your ceremony opening or your speech.” Jack flicks his eyebrows up and nods at Robby with a fake grimace and ire. 

Robby rolls his eyes. “Just try, yeah? That’s all. Just try to accept you deserve each other and your love, okay?”

You and Jack share a look and exchange soft smiles before turning to Robby. “We are,” Jack assures him. 

“Promise,” you add. 

Robby looks between the two of you before nodding. “Alright. Good.” He looks back at the dance floor. The music is fast again, the majority of your guests out dancing. It makes you and Jack happy, seeing all of your friends and family blending together like they’ve known each other forever. “You guys should get back to dancing with your guests.”

“You,” you point at Robby, smile growing, “should come with us!”

He laughs, shakes his head. “Maybe in a bit, I’m going to take advantage of your open bar and go get a drink, sit for a minute.”

You boo him teasingly. “No, no, Doll,” Jack starts as Robby turns and starts walking away, “if the old man needs a rest, we have to let him. Don’t want him straining himself, do we?” You bite your lip and turn your head into Jack’s chest a little as you fight back a laugh.

Robby stops walking and gives a singular hummed laugh before turning to look back at you and Jack. “You just really had to go there, huh?”

Jack presses his lips together and pulls them up a bit in a not quite smirk, as he shrugs and starts pulling you towards the center of the dance floor. “I didn’t go anywhere but the truth.” 

You giggle as you and Jack turn and let yourselves get pulled back into the middle of things, starting to dance with your friends again. Jack doesn’t let you get separated this time, he wants you close, keeps a hand wrapped around your waist and you pulled back close to him. You share a laugh when you see Robby there with you, getting pulled in by Heather and Santos. 

A few songs later and the DJ announces that the cake will be cut in ten minutes. You spin so that you and Jack are chest to chest. “Guess we should go sit and cool down and I should touch my makeup up before that.”

Jack nods at you and laces your hand with his. The two of you walk back over to your sweetheart table and Jack pulls your chair back for you, helps you sit before he takes his own seat. “Thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing the makeup bag staged under the table. 

“For?” 

“For getting my chair and helping me into my seat.” You throw him a smile as you start to pull things out of the bag. “And don’t say I don’t need to thank you for it because that’s what a gentleman does or whatever variation thereof you were about to say. I do need to thank you for it because I appreciate it and you and want you to always know that and that I don’t take you for granted. And most men don’t do things like that anymore, Jack. So it is special to me.” 

Jack laughs to himself. “You’re welcome. I enjoy doing those kinds of little things for you.” 

“I know, because you’re the best.” You pull a couple of oil blotting papers out from the pack in your makeup bag. “Sh.” You hold your index finger up to Jack’s lips. “Just accept that you are.” You pull your finger away and replace it quickly with your lips. 

Jack deepens the kiss more than he generally would in public and you let him. You’re effectively alone right now, everyone having so much fun dancing or sitting around the other tables and laughing that nobody is looking at you. Even then it’s not like you’re fully making out. Jack’s tongue just presses against your lips a little and you open your mouth just a little for him, just enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth and taste you for the briefest of seconds.

“You taste like expensive champagne,” he groans against your lips before pulling away. “I love it.” 

You hum at him and Jack says nothing, doesn’t flinch or blink as you start to blot at his face with the papers, just lets you do your thing, both of you equally sweaty. It’s a better look on him though. You only blot a few more places and then pull away, deciding it’s okay if he looks a little sweaty. Just makes him more attractive to you if you’re honest. “I enjoy expensive champagne,” you smirk at him as you shrug, “actually I’d like more expensive champagne. We should go get some.”

“I’ll go get us some, okay? While you touch yourself up or whatever it is you believe you need to do, because I personally think you look gorgeous just as you are right now.” He leans in and steals a kiss before you can argue with him. 

“I look sweaty and shiny.” Your eyes track him as he stands up.  

Jack stoops and kisses the top of your hair carefully. “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he walks away, walking backwards for a few paces to wink at you before turning. 

You shake your head at him affectionately and go back to blotting your face and touching up your makeup so that your lipstick is fresh and your face perfectly between matte and dewy. You know your photographer can edit things but you also know other people will be taking photos. It really hits you once you close your compact and aren’t focused on your face anymore. You and Jack are married. You’re about to cut the cake at your wedding. 

Jack’s thinking the same thing as he walks to the bar and in the moment he waits for the bartender to pour the two glasses of champagne and one of water. He thumbs at his wedding ring, opens and closes his fist. He’s not used to it, wearing a ring, and so it’s a constant reminder. You’re married. He’s bringing his wife back champagne for you to enjoy together before you cut the cake at your wedding. 

“Okay, more expensive champagne as requested.” Jack hands you your flute before he sits and sets down his flute and the glass of water. “And some water. We should both have some.” He gives you a little no arguing look. 

“I wasn’t going to argue, I was going to say thank you and that I meant to ask you to get some before you walked away but forgot.” You grab the glass and take a couple sips. “So thank you. I needed it.” You hold the glass out to him. 

“Course, Doll.” He takes it from you, has a couple of sips himself before setting it down. You both pick up your champagne flutes and take a sip. 

You hum as you let the bubbles rest in your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. “You have to admit it’s really fucking good champagne.”

Jack laughs. “I never said it wasn’t! I think it’s very good.” He stops speaking but his lips twitch like he wants to say more, eyes glint a little mischievously. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “I was just thinking about how I was never a big champagne fan before you.” You raise your eyebrows at him asking that so? as you take another sip. “Tasting it on you though… changed my opinion. Now I love it.”  

You cough a little as you finish your sip, not expecting him to say that. “Probably less tasting it on me and more me making us always get expensive real champagne.” 

“No, I’m quite certain it was tasting it on you.” You give him a look. “It was. The first time we shared a bottle of one of your favorite expensive real champagnes we were at your apartment because your week had been long and you wanted to celebrate it being over and the fact that I had a full weekend off so we could spend the entire weekend together. I had a glass and thought it was better than champagne I’d had before, yes, but I didn’t love it really. And then we started making out on your couch and I tasted it on you and my eyes were opened. Ever since then I really have come to enjoy it. But it was tasting it on you that made me start to enjoy it.”

You nod at him, the slight grin you’re wearing telling Jack that while you struggle to believe it, you do believe him. “I’m equal parts wooed and turned on by that little confession, Peter.”

Jack laughs at that, properly, because it was such a you thing to say. “You are…” he shakes his head and looks around while he tries to find the right word. “You.” His eyes crinkle and his lips pull up, “you’re so you sometimes, Doll, and I love it so much. I’m sure that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but-” 

“It does,” you cut in to reassure him. “I know what you mean. You have moments where you say or do something and I think to myself that was such a Jack thing of him to say or do. I get it, and I love it too.” You give Jack the same loving smile he’s giving you. “A toast.” You raise your champagne flute, Jack following your lead. “To a long lifetime of expensive champagne together.”

Jack shakes his head at you, still smiling at you like he’s drowning in love. “Here, here,” he murmurs before you clink your glasses and take a sip. “You done touching up?”

“I am,” you nod. “We still have some time.”

“I know, come here.” Jack beckons you with his fingers, his other hand patting his lap. You giggle as you comply with his request, sliding your flute of champagne over next to his before sitting on his lap, one arm wrapping behind his neck so you can scratch at the nape of his neck how he loves. “That’s better.” One arm comes around you to hold you close while his other hand rests in your lap and starts to play with your hand that rests there too.

You let yourself lean into him. Let yourself lean into your husband as you take a moment together and watch the room, sip on champagne and water. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“I know,” Jack agrees. His hand squeezes your hip and you look down at him. “Thank you.”

You smile at him curiously. “For what?” 

“Everything.” He shrugs, looking into your eyes. “Marrying me. Being my best friend. Making me laugh. Taking care of me. Loving me.” There’s a little pause between each one so they all sink in. Jack glances away from you and you can tell from that and his expression that there’s one he’s fighting with himself about saying. When he looks back up at you he’s clearly more emotional. “Waking up,” he whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking right at him. 

“Jack-”

“No,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, I don’t want us to go there or dwell on it or any of that, I just wanted to say it, felt like we should acknowledge it quickly somehow.” 

You give him a soft smile, bring your hands to cup his face. “I’ll always wake up for you,” you murmur as you look him in the eyes and lean in to give him a series of painfully soft and sweet kisses. 

“Good.” He smirks at you. “If you don’t I’ll just pinch your ass awake.” 

“Ha!” you laugh triumphantly. “So you admit it! You did pinch my ass awake on the day of our third anniversary and wedding.” Jack starts laughing because the way you said it was so you again and he loves you so much and you’re his fucking wife now. You shake your head at him in mock upset.

Jack keeps laughing, his laugh so contagious it makes you start to laugh with him. He’s overwhelmed. “I love you so fucking much I want to squeeze you and bite you and kiss you and also just fuck you right here on this table, god.” He leans in and steals a kiss from you, longer this time. 

“I love when I bring out the cuteness aggression in you,” you giggle as he pulls away. Jack shakes his head at you and laughs softly. “But hey,” you grow a little serious again. “Thank you too. For everything. Marrying me, being my best friend, making me laugh. Loving me.” Your voice gets a little like Jack’s did and you tilt your head at him a little. “Taking care of me. Never leaving my side. Never letting me feel alone.” 

“Always, Doll.” Jack’s eyes crinkle just a little more than normal with his soft smile that you return. You just look at each other for a moment, let it all fade away and rest your foreheads together. 

“Here.” You pull your forehead from Jack’s and grab a napkin, dip a little piece in the glass of water. “Let me make sure you don’t have any lipstick on you.” 

“Not my color?” He smirks. 

“Not there it isn’t.” You look him in the eyes and smirk harder, the quickest and slightest raise of your brows.

Jack lets out a single choked laugh as you bring the napkin to his lips and rub gently. “Are you trying to have me hard in the cake cutting photos?”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately as you finish wiping off his lips. “I’m sitting on your lap Peter, I can assure you that if I wanted you hard in the cake cutting photos I wouldn’t be using my words to achieve that.” You boop his nose on the last word and die a little inside at how cute he looks when he scrunches his nose at it. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully grumbles as you grab your lipstick and compact to check if you need to touch up from the kisses. “Do you want me to put my jacket back on while we cut the cake for the photos?” 

“Up to you,” you shrug at him. “I want you to be happy and look how you want to look in our wedding photos. It’s not all about what I want.” 

“No, I know, I just didn’t know if you had a preference because I don’t really care strongly one way or the other,” Jack explains. “I just want you to be happy.”

You tilt your head at him and give him a small smile. “As long as you’re up there cutting the cake with me Jack, I’m going to be happy. Jacket or not. All I need is you.” Jack makes a little noise of protest and you laugh softly. “Why don’t you leave it off? We have lots of photos of you with it on and I don’t know, you have the jacket off for a reason. Because you got hot while dancing and having fun at our wedding before we even made it to cutting the cake. I like the idea of the photos reflecting that. But truly, it’s up to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave it off.” A beat passes and Jack doesn’t quite stifle his smirk fast enough so you catch a glimpse of it. “Do you want me to undo one more button for the photos?” 

Your heart races a bit just at the thought of him with two buttons undone. “That would be very slutty of you Peter,” you hum. 

“Slutty?” Jack barks out a laugh. “Are you saying I’ve looked slutty every time I’ve worn a dress shirt like that?”

“Why do you think I never want you wearing two undone in public? I’d have to fight everyone off.” You shrug.

“So you’re saying I’m a slut?” He raises his eyebrows, amused smile ghosting his lips as he tries to keep it from pulling up. But you can see it, especially in his eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slowly and finish off your champagne, set the empty flute on the table. You lean in close enough for your breath to ghost across his lips, drop your voice to just above a whisper. “I’m saying you’re my slut,” you pull back and give him a dazzling smile, “Dr. Abbot.”

“Jesus,” Jack mutters under his breath, shaking his head and looking away from you. “You’re ending up using your words to achieve it without trying.” You giggle at his reference to your earlier discussion. “Doctor was so on purpose.” 

You tug just sharply enough on the curls at the nape of his neck to pull a little sharp breath from him. “You started it my love, making me think about you with two buttons open. I merely finished it.” You steal a quick kiss from him. “You know you can call me it now.” 

Jack is focusing so intensely on not getting any harder than the semi he currently has that he’s a little too distracted to truly think about your words. His eyebrows raise a little. “Call you what?”

Your eyes flick away from him for a second before returning. You hum softly, the faintest smirk and lean back in close. “Abbot.”

Jack groans low, right from the center of his chest and the sound makes you shiver as you stand up. “No no no, where do do you think you’re going? You don’t get to drop that and run.”

“Yes yes yes. We’re being summoned to cut the cake.” You nod over at where the wedding coordinator is waving you over. 

“Okay, well I’m going to need a minute here,” Jack huffs under his breath. 

“Oh?” You feign innocence. “Something the matter, dear?” Jack looks at you stone faced and shaking his head slightly. “Come on,” you hold your hands out for him. “Just stay behind me until you’re good.” 

“Alright, but don’t ‘accidentally’ lean back into me and rub your ass all over me.” Jack takes your hands and stands, walks a step behind you just to the side when you begin walking. 

“I would never, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of doing such a thing.” You click your tongue at him.

“Ha!” Jack scoffs a laugh. “You would, multiple times. And I’m serious, if you do I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

You tilt your head and he can feel your smirk even if he can’t see it. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

“Oh that’s not a threat Doll,” Jack murmurs, all gravel and lust. He rests a hand on your hip once you arrive in front of the cake and squeezes. “It’s a promise.” 

You glance back up at him and the hunger he’s staring down at you with almost makes you say you need a minute and grab his hand and run to the nearest bathroom. Instead you just stare back at him for a moment before he nods to the cake and you turn back around. 

The cutting itself is fairly quick and easy. Jack’s steady emergency room physician hands are able to hold yours still as you cut into the cake and pull a slice out. He holds the plate as you each feed each other a little bite and kiss once you’re done. There’s no smashing of any kind, you know Jack would never and neither would you. It’s sweet and the love is palpable as your friends and family watch, photographer snapping away. 

The dance floor clears for the most part as everyone grabs cake and takes a breather. You and Jack take your piece and return back to your sweetheart table, but just about as soon as you’re finished you’re dragged back onto the dance floor together by Dana and Parker. 

You and Jack get a little separated but are still pretty close and it’s easy for you to dance your way back over to him. “Hey!” You give him a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’m going to the bathroom. It’ll take a second with the dress. Try not to have too much fun without me.” You wink at Jack before turning around and grabbing your friend’s hand for help with your dress. 

He watches you walk away and link arms with your friend, lean into each other as you walk and giggle together. Jack intends on slinking off the dance floor since he really only wants to be here with you. 

“Nope!” He’s caught by Santos and McKay. “She’ll be back soon enough, you can stay out here with us.” Santos raises her eyebrows at him almost as a little challenge and Jack rolls his eyes but lets them pull him back in. 

He’s always aware of you though, always wants to know where you are in case he needs to get to you immediately. So he sees when you walk out of the bathroom, you and your friend still giggling. He shakes his head and smiles at the two of you, focusing back where he is. 

But when your friend appears without you he looks around. He stops dancing without fully realizing it once he spots you. You’re sitting at a table with a bunch of the men from his unit and their significant others. You feel his gaze on you, you always do, and look over at him, give him a quick wave and a smile but don’t go to move at all, just return to your conversation. 

You had met them before the wedding since they all flew in a day early, had a nice dinner all together, so it’s not like they were literal strangers at your wedding. But still. You don’t have to be over there sitting with them and talking to them and getting to know them. Yet you are. Because like everyone else important in his life you want to do more than just know them cursorily. You want to be friends. You want them to know they’re just as important to you as they are to Jack. You want them to know that they can call you and you’ll help just like Jack would and that your and Jack’s place is open to them whenever they might need. 

“You good?” Dana yells over the music at Jack, grabs a hand to get him dancing again. He smiles and nods at her, his mind still on you and how amazing and perfect you are and how fucking lucky he is. 

A couple of songs pass and Jack watches you and a few of those who you’d been talking with make your way back to the dance floor. Jack manages to slip off the dance floor finally. He walks up to the DJ. “Can you play this song?” He shows the DJ his phone.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll play it next.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Jack smiles to himself as he moves around the dance floor to be close enough to you but far enough away that you don’t really see him as you dance.   

The current song ends and everyone is thrown for a second by the instrumental piano opening. It takes you five or six seconds to fully clock it, laughing to yourself and starting to look for Jack when you realize. 

He slips up right behind you, one hand on your waist as his front presses into your back. “Hi, Doll,” he murmurs, the cheeky grin he’s wearing clear in his voice. He presses a teasing kiss to your neck. 

You spin so that you’re chest to chest now, hands going just where they need to so that you can start slightly faster slow dancing. “Hi Peter.” You lean up for a quick kiss. “As Time Goes By. How coincidental.” You arch a brow at him in playful accusation.

“It felt right,” Jack admits to requesting it, shrugging, “since I wouldn’t sing it for you in Paris.” While other couples are dancing the two of you can feel lots of eyes on you. It’s clearly a song that’s playing specifically for you and Jack. He gives you a slightly sly smile and your brows raise in anticipation. “Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, you walked into mine.” 

You press your lips together and smile as you hold back a laugh. “I can’t decide if that was really bad or really good.” You and Jack share a laugh. “It was very romantic. This whole thing, requesting the song and sneaking up behind me, because I know that was deliberate too,” you nod your head a little at him as you say it, “and the line.” Your eyes grow a little glassy at the sentiment. “I like to think we were fated too.” 

“I know we were,” Jack nods, “I know the world brought you to me on purpose.” His eyes are a little glassy now too. 

You push your lips out a little and Jack leans down to kiss you. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

Jack hums a little laugh, lips pulling up into a smile against yours. “I love you too.”

The final hour or so of the wedding goes fast and yet slow. You and Jack both don’t want it to end but at the same time you’re a little desperate to finally be alone together for the night. It’s been a beautiful and perfect long day. Your and Jack’s perfect day. 

You say goodbye to everyone as they all walk over towards the car you and Jack will be leaving in. There’s hugs and a few tears and promises to see each other soon and text and call and send photos from the honeymoon. 

And then you and Jack are finally in the town car and being driven away. 

“That was really the perfect day,” you sigh as you lean into Jack. You’re happy that Robby was able to check you into the hotel earlier before the wedding and drop your stuff so that you and Jack can just run through the lobby to the elevators and get to your room as quick as possible.

“Yes it was.” Jack moves his arm around you and pulls you even closer. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You tilt your head up as Jack leans down and kisses you. 

It devolves so very quickly. You and Jack makeout effectively the entire rest of the way to the hotel. Jack gropes at your breasts over your dress, sucks bruises into your neck and collarbones and chest now that he finally can again. The last two weeks of being unable to mark you anywhere that could be visible in your dress were torturous even if he understood why and completely respected it. 

You undo another button of his shirt and kiss at his chest, lick your lips to wet your lipstick before you do so that you leave lip prints behind on his chest and his neck. You wrap your hand around Jack as best you can over his pants and rub at him. Both of you happily swallow down the quiet moans you pull from each other, knowing that the screen dividing you from the driver is not soundproof. 

“Do you want to stop?” you pant softly against Jack’s lips, moaning softly as he squeezes one of your breasts and nibbles at your jaw. 

“Why would I ever want to do that?” His lips are back on your neck the second he’s done speaking, kissing and sucking lightly, smiling to himself when you squirm a little from how good it feels. 

“So that you’re not hard walking to the elevator.” You barely get ‘elevator’ out before Jack’s back to kissing you. 

“If you think,” he pauses so that he can kiss you again, “that I’m going to be anything,” another kiss and a nip to your bottom lip, “other than painfully fucking hard for you,” another kiss, “until I’ve finally come inside of you,” Jack groans as your thumb flicks over his head in just the right spot, “come inside my fucking wife,” those words steal your breath even harder and Jack moves to suck on that spot on your neck he knows is extra sensitive, “you’re fucking insane Doll.” 

“Fuck, okay,” you gasp, as he sucks that spot again, “just wanted to check.” 

He hums a thank you against your lips and you continue like you are until the car starts to slow as you arrive at the hotel. Jack’s quick to slide out of the car and then help you out before you both make a walking sprint to the elevator, the late hour meaning the lobby is pretty much empty. You giggle to yourself as Jack presses you up against the wall of the elevator, your very own movie moment. He groans into your mouth in relief a little now that he can finally grind his hips against yours. 

Jack forces himself to pull away from you as the elevator slows to a stop. Robby already gave him instructions to the room so he doesn’t have to stop and read the signs. He laces your fingers together and leads you to the room, fishing the key from his pocket and opening the door. 

Even with as absolutely fucking wired as you both are for each other, the day catches up with you once you step in the room and see the bed in the honeymoon suite of the fancy downtown hotel you’re staying at for the night. You leave for your honeymoon tomorrow. You’re so fucking ready to know where you’re going. 

You’re both tired and there’s a bit of a lull in the making out and groping as you walk in and both look over the room, though Jack stands right behind you, hands squeezing your hips over your dress and keeping your ass flush against him. He sets both of your phones on the dresser next to you before you take a few more steps in so that you’re almost right at the edge of the bed.

“Can I?” Jack leans into you and murmurs against your neck, fingers running over the part of your dress that will let him start to take you out of it. 

“Please,” you breathe, voice shaking just slightly in anticipation. You had decided on no wedding lingerie that required changing, only what would fit under your dress. Jack wanted the opportunity to slowly strip you out of your wedding dress, said it’s something he’ll only get the chance to do once. And what you have on under your dress is pretty, very bridal, while still practical enough to get you through the wedding. But you have lots of lingerie for the honeymoon all in the carry-on suitcase you packed, including a pair of lacy underwear with his name embroidered in the gusset. 

Jack’s hands tremble a little as he starts to get your dress off you. He takes his time, every movement purposeful and designed to tease both of you a little bit, his fingertips ghosting over the skin of your back, lips trailing along your spine and shoulders. He’s careful not to rip anything as he helps the dress fall down your figure and pulls it out from under you once you step out, helps you out of your shoes. He doesn’t let himself look up because he knows if he does he won’t lay your dress out nicely on the couch. You turn as he lays it on the couch so when he turns back to you Jack he’s met with your eyes on him. 

His eyes don’t stay on yours for long though, dropping down and running over your body, stopping for a second at the blue garter on your thigh. 

“I know it’s not proper wedding lingerie, except for the something blue. I suppose it is,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Jack shakes his head slowly. You’re unreal, far and away the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His cock strains against his boxer briefs painfully. “Fuck me,” he groans as he palms himself over his pants, desperate for any friction he can get. “You’re stunning.” Jack walks over to you, pulls his hand off himself only so that he can get his hands on you, let them glide over your bare skin.

“Your turn.” Your trembling hands come to the buttons at Jack’s chest and start unbuttoning them, a few a little more difficult when your hands shake worse as Jack squeezes at your ass and one of your breasts. He pops the clasp of your bra as you finish the last button of his shirt, both of you shrugging out of the items and tossing them aside. Your eyes rake over his chest and arms, pussy throbbing as you do. He’s so handsome you can hardly stand it. “You’re so perfect, Jack.”

You lick your lips to wet your lipstick again and kiss at his collarbones and chest as your nails drag lightly down his stomach. “Fuck,” Jack grunts at the sensation. He rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and kneads at your other breast as your fingers get his belt and pants undone. 

You hook your thumbs in the waistbands of his pants and boxer briefs, rewet your lips and slowly kiss down his stomach and leave lip prints in your wake. “Doll,” Jack husks as you sink to your knees. 

Once you settle on them your thumbs finally drag Jack’s pants and boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as he shivers. “Peter,” you sigh back at him as you take him in your hand and slowly pump him. Your mouth kisses around the base of him, his balls and inner thighs and lines of his hips, lip prints decorating his skin as Jack groans loudly, eyes unable to leave you. “See?” Your breath fans across his skin as you look up at him through your lashes. “It is your color here.” 

Jack chokes on the laugh your words pull for him when you take his head in your mouth, humming happily as you swirl your tongue around him before taking more of him. “Fucking christ!” Jack grunts, lets his head tip back and eyes flutter closed to focus on the feeling of you bobbing up and down him. 

You hum around him at times, usually when you pull another deep groan from him. You love having Jack in your mouth. Few things make you feel as powerful and sexy. 

Jack’s close. He’s been wound tight for you all day, especially since after the ceremony. He lowers his head back down and opens his eyes. Two fingers hook under your chin. “Up.” 

You pull off him and pout. “Jack,” you whine a little. “Wanna make you come like this.” 

“Next time.” He offers you his hands which you take and stand up. Jack kisses you hard. “The first place I’m coming for my wife is inside her,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as Jack starts kissing you again. 

“On the bed,” Jack instructs as he pulls his lips off yours. “If you have anything in your hair, take it out so it won’t hurt you.” You do as he asks, situating your hair and then crawling to the middle of the bed and leaning back on your hands so you can watch him. Jack gets his shoes off and then gets on the bed on his knees. He grabs your feet and holds them up, lips finding one of your ankles and starting to kiss up the inside of your legs, head moving back and forth between both legs until he grows closer to the garter. 

His lips stay on the thigh it’s on, kissing around it. “It’s very pretty,” he murmurs, lips teasing your skin. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you pant.

“Love it Doll.” Jack nibbles at the skin of your inner thigh just below your garter and then takes the material between his teeth and pulls it down off your leg. 

“Fuck Jack!” you moan. It’s such a simple move but the way he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time makes it one of the most erotic things he’s ever done for you. 

He’s quick to make his way back up you, grabs the waistband of your underwear and quickly gets them off. You think he’s going to settle with his face in between your thighs but he doesn’t. He nods at you and you lay back on the bed while he kisses up your tummy and chest, stopping to lavish your breasts with attention from his mouth and hands. “Fucking love your tits,” Jack groans against one of your nipples. You thread your hands through his hair and tug a little as your back arches at the feeling of his tongue swirling around it.  

“Jack, please,” you beg, for what you’re not sure. He just feels too good, his hot skin that’s pressing against yours and his mouth on your breasts. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, “I’ve always got you Doll.” Jack kisses his way up your chest to your neck and jaw and then finally your lips. Your legs spread further apart for him and as he makes his way up his right hand slides down and slips between your lips. Jack feels how wet you are the second his middle finger hits your clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he rasps against your lips, fingers still moving down to feel just how wet you really are. 

“I have been all night,” you admit through a little moan, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit as his fingers tease your cunt, circling around your entrance but never slipping inside. “For my husband. Have needed you all night.”

“Yeah?” Jack pulls back from you a little. “I’ve needed you too.” His hand pulls away from you and you whine at loss. Jack offers you his index and middle finger, the two most coated in you. You maintain eye contact as you open your mouth and let him slide them inside before you suck them clean, running your tongue up and down each finger, moaning softly. Jack’s hips grind into you without conscious thought, his cock hard and heavy against you. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos as he pulls his fingers from your mouth. “Let me taste you.”

Jack kisses you, licking into your mouth and groaning as he tastes you on your tongue. He shifts a little as he devours you, kissing you with just the right pressure to tease. He doesn’t stop kissing you as the fingers of his left hand trail down you and make you shiver. He’s careful how he does it, keeps all but his fingertips off you until his middle and ring finger tease you again, pressing into you shallowly and withdrawing a few times. “Please Jack!” you keen for him. “Please, need it, need you.”

“Okay, Doll.” Jack’s lips are back on yours as he arches his wrist a little further and slides his two fingers all the way inside of you, curling them perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you.

And you feel it. The cool press of metal against the outside of your pussy. “Jack!” you gasp his name, fingers tugging even harder at the salt and pepper curls you love so much. 

“Yes Doll?” He smirks at you, fingers dragging back out of you before plunging right back in. 

“Your- oh!” Jack steals your breath and your train of thought as he changes his pace and hooks his fingers just a little bit more, fucks you with them a little harder. “Your ring, your wedding ring. I can feel it.” 

“Can you?” Jack hums at you, “Well how about that?” You whimper at his words, know he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. He kisses you again but it doesn’t last particularly long because the feeling of his ring against you and his fingers fucking you perfectly completely steals your ability to kiss him back in any meaningful way, your mouth hanging open a bit as you let out breathy higher pitched moans with each pass of Jack’s fingers. 

“Jack I need you inside me,” you rush out in a single exhale, still moaning intermittently. “Need it. Your cock. Not your fingers. Please.” One of your hands grabs at the wrist of his left hand to still him. And Jack does stop, smirking a little at your desperation. You take a few breaths before looking Jack in the eyes. “First place I’m coming for my husband is on his cock.”

Jack stills and growls at your words as he pulls his fingers from you, rolling a bit so that he’s back properly on top of you and not rolled to the side slightly. He should have seen that one coming, he set himself right up for it with what he said to you. Jack doesn’t offer you his fingers this time, bringing them to his own mouth and sucking them clean. “God!” he groans as he finishes. “You taste so fucking good. My wife tastes so fucking good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod at him, hands slipping between your bodies and grabbing at his cock, trying in vain to guide him inside of you. “Fuck me Jack, please. Fuck your wife!” Your words make Jack shudder. He pulls back so he can watch as he runs his cock through you, letting out a shuddering breath as he does. “Jack, I need you,” you whine at him. 

“I know, Doll, I know. I need you too.” Jack takes himself in his hand and watches as he lines himself up. His chest heaves slightly as he drags his eyes back up to yours and then pushes into you almost agonizingly slow. “Fuck,” Jack draws the word out as slow as he pushes inside of you, both of you fighting through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. 

“Oh, Jack” you moan softly, “more, please more.” 

Jack groans as he leans down and kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling it taut as you flutter around him. “Shit, you’re so fucking perfect,” he pants against your lips. “My perfect wife.” His arms slip under your shoulders so his hands can cradle your face as he pulls his hips back just as slow as he pushed into you. 

“My husband.” Your lips graze his as you breathe the words out. You roll your hips in tandem with Jack so that he’s fucking you a little harder, cunt wrapping around him so tight Jack swears it takes a little more force to pull himself out of you. “Fuck Jack!” you mewl, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his ass cheek for a moment before your fingers squeeze at his muscle.

Jack hisses at the feeling, kissing you passionately, tongue exploring your mouth as though he doesn’t already have you memorized. He keeps his pace languid for now, wants to drag this out for the both of you. You love it, wouldn't have it any other way right now as you drown in Jack and his love and this moment.

The room is filled with the lewd wet sound of your pussy and heavy pants against skin as Jack ceases his greediness and lets your tongue into his mouth. He instinctively chuckles a little with how eagerly you take advantage of the opportunity, head lifting off the bed a little for a few seconds as you kiss him.   

As much as he doesn’t want to Jack pulls apart so you both can breathe. “What are you?” He asks through heaving breaths, eyes reflecting how on fire he is for you, practically pinning you to the bed. “Tell me what you are.” 

“Your- fuck Jack!” He changes his rhythm on you just slightly and it has you stuttering. “Your, your wife.” Tears of pleasure start to burn behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises you, words pulling a loud moan from you just like he knew they would. Jack fucks you with his whole body, hunched over and using his hips and back and thighs to drive himself into you, muscles rippling under your fingertips. He can’t get deep enough, can’t feel enough of you, can’t be close enough to you. “That’s fucking right you are. My wife. All fucking mine.” 

“Say it for me,” you plead with Jack, tears of pleasure finally dripping down the sides of your face. “Tell me what you are.” 

Jack laughs softly against your lips as he pulls your legs up around his waist to change the angle. “Your husband,” he rasps at your ear. “I’m your husband.”  

You whine as he says it, trail off into a breathy moan of his name. “Jack!” Your nails claw into his skin, leaving trails of red marks in their wake as one hand slides down his back and the other up his ass cheek to his hip, pulling a choked groan from the back of Jack’s throat. “I’m so close. So close baby, please!” It’s not often you call him baby, and something about the word always makes him short circuit a bit. 

He picks his pace up, snaps his hips a bit harder, sucking and nibbling at your neck as he buries his face there for a moment as he gets lost in the feeling of you, breath hot against your skin. Fucking you and making love to you is always mindblowing, but this is different, this has an edge, for both of you. Because you’re married. Because it feels like your first time all over again in a way. 

“Just like that, yes! Don’t stop!” you moan, voice high-pitched and breathy.

Jack’s just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, breath heavy and hot against your lips. “Come for me Doll, come for me.” Jack’s voice is strained with his desperation, hips driving him into you over and over while his fingers circle your clit. “Come on my cock, come on your husband’s cock. Make me come.” 

“I will, I will,” you cry for him, eyes fluttering closed and sending more tears down your face as the pleasure overwhelms you and builds to a breaking point.

“Look at me,” Jack pants, voice cracking on the last word. “Look at me while you come for your husband.” You force your eyes open and Jack’s staring down at you intensely. “Be my good little wife and come for me.”

His command and the way he’s looking at you like he needs you so desperately he’d do anything for you, like you’re the only thing that matters, like the most beautiful and precious thing to him that he has to protect, and like he needs this, you to come, are more than enough to make you shatter beneath him.

“Jack!” You get a single cry of his name out before all words fall out of your mind, completely overwhelmed by Jack, by your husband, as your orgasm sears through what feels like every nerve in your body. Your nails drag along Jack’s back so hard you might have broken skin in a few places but he doesn’t care, it just shoves him closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Jack, please!” you moan once words return, again unsure of what you’re begging him for.

“Shit! So fucking tight”! Jack struggles to hold himself off, does only for thirty or so seconds so that he can drink in your face as you come for him while he fucks you through it. “My wife’s so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me.” He pulls his hand away from your clit before you hit painful overstimulation. “Fuck, Doll, I’m gonna come, pussy’s squeezing me so tight, gonna come for you, fill you up, and you’ll be so good for me and take it all.” He starts to babble and his hips start to falter, a clear sign he’s right at the edge. 

“Come for me Jack,” you purr at him, hands threading back into his hair and tugging at the root just to give him a little shock of pain opposite the pleasure how you know he loves. You’re looking at Jack much the same as he looked at you, like you love him so much it hurts sometimes, like you’d walk straight through a wall of flames for him. Your love overwhelms him, you overwhelm him. And then you say it as a soft moan and he’s gone. “Come for your wife.”

Jack comes with the most erotic, carnal groan of your name that you’ve ever heard from him. His orgasm rips through him, tears through him so intensely it steals his breath for a moment before a slurry of curse words and my wife and so perfect fall off his tongue like a hymn he’s composed just for you. His hips still but you roll yours up against him and clench around him deliberately. “Fucking shit, Doll! Fuck!” Jack groans, voice and neck and face strained as you prolong his orgasm, somehow pull a bit more cum from him. 

“Feels so good when you come in me,” you hum all pleasure-drunk and breathy at Jack. Your face matches your voice. You look so fucked out and beautiful below him, his girl. His woman. His wife. 

“Oh fuck!” Jack grunts, a shiver running up his spine hard as an aftershock hits him. “Fuck, Doll, you’re so fucking good.” He collapses on top of you carefully. 

You tremble under him a little, arms and legs wrapping around him and holding him to you tight. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Abbot.” It’s almost a little slurred as you come back down from your orgasm.

Another shiver races up Jack’s spine at doctor. “Never had a title kink before you.” His lips brush against your chest as he speaks before nuzzling against you. It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still love to hear it.

You can only hum in acknowledgment, let your hands find his hair and run through his curls, scratch at his scalp intermittently. The two of you lay there in a comfortable silence, murmuring soft words to each other. Jack nuzzles into you and kisses at your chest wherever he can reach, enjoys listening to your heartbeat and how it slowly returns to something closer to normal. 

After a while Jack nuzzles into your chest one last time before pulling his head up. You open your eyes knowing he’ll be looking down at you. He’s smiling when he comes into focus. “How’s my wife?”

“I’m pretty fucking great,” you murmur, blissed out smile on your face. “Feeling very, very well and thoroughly fucked by my husband. A little sleepy.” You bring your hand up and run your fingers through Jack’s curls, push back a few that sweat has stuck to his forehead. “How’s my husband?”

Jack chuckles at you. You’re so adorable when you’re all fucked out like this. “Oh, I’m pretty fucking great too, Doll.” He leans down and kisses you. “Feeling very, very lucky to call you my wife. And I’m with you on the sleepy.” 

You already know what he’s going to say based on the look on his face. “No!” you whine, wrap your arms and legs around him tight. “Let’s just stay right here. It’ll be fine this one time, we can just curl up like this and fall asleep.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head at you. “I’m not sure now’s the time to risk it, baby. You don’t want to start our honeymoon with a UTI.” He takes another kiss. “And we both know you’ll be upset with yourself in the morning if you don’t take all your makeup off. Plus I should really wipe the lipstick off.” 

You groan but loosen your grip on him when he pulls away, both of you hissing a little as he slips out of you. Jack holds his hands out for you and helps you up and off the bed. His hands find a hip and your waist quickly once you’re standing, ready to grab you and keep you from falling if your legs are too weak. You lean into him for just a second while you get your legs steady back under you and then nod at Jack. 

He keeps an arm around your waist anyway, just to keep you close. You realize step into the bathroom and Jack flicks the light on, leads you over to the toilet. He walks to the sink as you go to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping the lipstick from his skin. 

You join him when you’re done, washing your hands as he washes his face. You make a face of consideration as he pats his face dry. “I could just leave it for one night, I’m tired.”

Jack shakes his head at you and you know he’s right, you’re just not in the mood. It’s been a long day and you just want to curl up in bed with your husband. Jack puts a towel on the sink counter, and pats it. “Up.” 

You debate fighting him because you know what’s about to happen. But you also know that Jack loves this part and it’s not something that happens frequently because you normally take your makeup off as soon as you get home. You slide yourself onto the towel as Jack pulls out your makeup remover wipes from the toiletry bag you packed. “Probably going to have to scrub pretty good,” you tell him, “she used the good setting spray.” 

Jack nods as he starts to wipe your face. “Very good setting spray,” he notes absentmindedly as he works. He does have to use more pressure than normal. “Tell me if I start hurting you.” 

“I will, but you won’t.” You give him a sleepy smile and Jack’s heart aches with how cute you are. 

Once he’s gotten everything off your face he’s weary as he eyes your lashes. “Are these the lashes designed to stay on or? How do I get them off?”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle at him, beaming at him because they’re such Jack questions. He’s always curious, especially when it comes to you and things he can do to take care of you. 

“What?” he drags the word out. “I don’t want to accidentally rip off all your eyelashes!”

“I know, you’re just the cutest, wanting to know. Caring enough to want to know.” You push your lips out and he gives you the quick kiss you’re seeking. “These ones aren’t designed to stay on, no. There’s some cotton balls and makeup remover in the bag. Just put some on two of them and hold them on for a minute and they should peel right off.”

“Can do, Doll.” Jack nods. He does and goes to take them off but hesitates. “Okay, maybe you should at least do one. So I can see.” 

Even with your eyes closed you smirk. “See one, do one, teach one?” Jack huffs at you and you know he’s rolling his eyes. “You have to admit that was pretty good.” You slowly peel one off. 

“It was,” Jack agrees with fake begrudging. He loves it. Loves how you listen and really take in what he says whether it’s when he’s directly speaking to you or if you happen to be watching him from just within earshot at work. “Okay. Please tell me if you feel me pulling your actual lashes.” 

“Were you this scared when you first did sutures on someone?” 

“Doll.”

“Yes, yes I’ll tell you,” you reassure him.

“Okay.” Jack grabs the other lash and pulls it off without issue, like you knew he would. 

“See? Nothing to it.” You squint at him to avoid getting the makeup remover in your eyes. “We’ll make you a makeup artist yet, Peter.” Your squinting kills any power the smirk you try to give him might have had.

He ignores your comment with a little shake of his head and smile. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t because you spend time practicing on fake skin before you go to a real human.”

You hum at him and slip off the counter. It’s going to be easier and quicker for you to wash your face and brush your teeth. “Thank you. For taking my makeup off and learning about eyelashes for me. I love you.” You wrap your arms around the middle of him and rest your head on his chest. 

“Always, Doll.” Jack bows his head and leans a little to press his lips to the top of your head. “And I love you too.” 

The two of you stand like that for a moment before you pull away and quickly wash your face before you and Jack brush your teeth at the same time. You say fuck it to your skin care for one night and just put some face lotion on, offer some to Jack. Once you’re done Jack turns around and after a second you do too. 

Your stomach drops a little. “Oh my god Jack!” His back is covered in scratches from your nails that are really more raised welts at this point. It looks incredibly painful and your head starts to spin because you feel so bad for doing that to him.

“What?” He spins quickly, brows furrowed and lips pulled down, concern all over his face. 

“Your back! That’s what!” You gesture with your finger and he spins for you again. “Jack, it has to hurt. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He turns back to look at you. He doesn’t like your expression, the sadness in your eyes and your frown and the way your brows are furrowed so close together. You’re upset and Jack can tell your mind is starting to swirl. “Hey, hey hey. I promise you I didn’t even notice. I promise. I wouldn’t have even known if you hadn’t said anything.”

“But Jack, it’s bad. I did a good number to you. They’re welts, not just scratches.” Your frown deepens. 

He steps closer to you and cups your face with his hands. “Doll, I promise you it felt so fucking good when you were making them in the moment but they haven’t bothered me at all since.” 

“You promise?” you whisper. You know he would never lie to you and you can see the earnestness in his eyes. It slows your mind, as do his hands holding your face.

“I promise.” He nods. His eyes drop to your neck and chest, hands letting go of your face. “Have you really looked in the mirror yet Doll?”

“Kind of?” Your brows are still drawn together but Jack’s relieved it’s in confusion this time and that your upset has faded. 

“You should. Because I did a good number on your neck and chest too,” Jack grimaces a little. “And it feels much worse than some scratches now that I’m really looking at them.”

You turn and look in the mirror. “Oh,” you breathe. Jack’s head starts to spin now. But then a smile grows on your face. “I love this.” You run your fingertips over some of them. 

“What?” Jack gives a small incredulous laugh. 

You turn around to look at him and see the way he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Jack, I love this shit. I love wearing your marks. And you gave me them as my husband and I get to have them on our honeymoon.”

“They’ll darken and be worse tomorrow.” He still eyes you a little wearily. 

You meet his eyes in the mirror, can see he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Good. I hope they get darker the day after that.”

“Yeah?” It’s the same as you asking if he promised. He knows you wouldn’t lie and can tell you’re not but he just needs to hear it again. 

“Yeah.” You nod with a small smile. “Very fucking yeah.”

That makes him crack a smile, yours widening in turn, his mind slowing. You turn back to face him. “Are they going to be all on display for the honeymoon?” You press yourself up against him. 

Jack laughs. You’re trying to get a hint as to where you’re going on your honeymoon, hoping he’ll answer and it’ll give you insight as to whether you’ll be spending a lot of time with your chest not covered by a shirt in a swimsuit. 

He gives you a self-satisfied grin and you start pouting before he even says anything. “That’s for me to know and you to find out babygirl.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately but it turns into a big yawn that has you covering your mouth. Jack laughs softly. “Come on sleepy girl, lets get into bed.” He fights back his own yawn while following you as you walk back to bed, flicking the light off. 

You climb in under the covers while Jack sits on the edge of the bed and takes his prosthetic off. Once it’s off he flips the lamp off and slides in beside you, hands on your waist and pulling you close as you move toward him. You snuggle together on your sides, limbs tangling as you get as close as possible while still able to see each other. “Hi handsome.” You smile up at Jack and kiss up his chest and neck to his lips. 

“Hi beautiful,” Jack murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful wife. Today was pretty perfect.” Jack takes another couple of kisses from you before pulling away and looking back at you. He swallows thickly. “A little surreal. We’re married.” He’s not dwelling, he’s really not.

But Jack lived in a world where he never even got to ask you to marry him, where he wore his dress blues not to wait for you at the end of an aisle on an altar but to watch them lower you six feet into the ground, even if it was only in his mind. He just has to acknowledge it one last time. It makes him appreciate this, appreciate you all the more. 

“Sure was. My handsome husband.” You giggle against Jack’s lips. “But it’s real. We’re married.” You look at Jack and smile as he smiles back at you. 

Your smiles and crinkles in the corners of your eyes say everything to each other. Thank you, you’re perfect, you’re my best friend and soulmate and the love of my life, you’re my everything, my whole world and my home, I meant every word I said today and will be faithful to the vows we took. I love you. 

Your eyelids get heavy fast as Jack’s warmth seeps into you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You can only fight it for so long as it gets harder and harder to open your eyes with every slow blink. There’s so much you want to say to him even now at the end of your wedding day when it feels like you’ve already said it all to each other. But there’s no way you’ll get anything coherent out. So you kiss Jack one more time and settle for the words you hope convey it all.

“I love you, Peter.” 

Jack hums a little laugh to himself because you’re adorable and precious and beautiful and his. His wife.

“I love you more, Doll.”

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

If you made it this far, again, thank you so so much! I hope you enjoyed this part and the series. As much as this is the end of the kind of main story, I don’t think this is truly the end for them. Certainly I have a whole list of other ideas that I’d like to work through first, but I have a couple of ideas for shorter one-shot style fics for these two. If you have anything in particular you'd like to see from them feel free to drop me a note wherever!! And I would love to hear your comments and thoughts on Part 5 and their ending!♥️

Quiet Part 2 is up next. I should have more free time this week and don't plan on making those parts as long so hopefully something will be out towards the end of the week!

Also, a huge huge shoutout to @loveyhoneydovey for beta-ing at times, talking me off a thousand ledges per part, and listening to me go on and on about these two and different ideas. This story is better because of your help. ♥️

Want more Jack? Find my masterlist here!

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[writingsonsaturn]

Honestly I think Shawn, a grown man, can stand up for himself lol

“He’s a grown man, he can stand up for himself.”

Right—but that response isn’t as neutral as you think. It’s a deflection. A way of shifting responsibility for boundary enforcement back onto the individual who’s been placed in an uncomfortable position, rather than asking why he was put there in the first place.

Because this isn’t about whether Shawn Hatosy—or Pedro Pascal, or any other man—can assert a boundary. It’s about how we’ve created a culture that expects them not to. It’s about how consent is routinely ignored, overwritten, or turned into a joke in public space—especially when it comes to men, especially when it’s dressed up as irony, “feminist thirst,” or progressive kink-positivity.

It’s about the refusal to admit that consent isn’t just about sex.

Consent is about presence. It’s about participation. It’s about emotional safety. And it’s about power.

And that matters in every context—including fandom, celebrity culture, and the increasingly blurred space between admiration and projection.

When you call a male celebrity “daddy” in the middle of an interview—on camera, unprompted, fully aware it’ll go viral—you’re not giving a harmless compliment. You’re placing him inside a sexualized, hierarchical, kink-coded role, and demanding a performance. You’re not inviting him into a shared dynamic. You’re building one around him and daring him to resist.

And that’s not just parasocial behavior. That’s coercion. Coercion dressed up in a clickbait blazer and a winking “teehee.”

And patriarchy? Patriarchy loves that. Because patriarchy has always taught us that men, especially older, stoic, men, aren’t allowed to have boundaries. That they should be flattered by sexual attention. That their discomfort is a flaw in the man, not a failure of the situation. That a man’s silence means yes.

So when a male celebrity tenses up or shifts uncomfortably after being called “daddy,” we don’t pause. We dismiss him. We say:

“Come on, it’s just a joke.”

“He’s hot. He can take it.”

“It’s part of the job.”

That’s not the language of consent. That’s the language of normalized entitlement.

Now compare that to when I commented on Shawn Hatosy’s TikTok and said he was “so babygirl-coded.” And he liked it.

Why? Because “babygirl,” as it functions in contemporary online fan culture, isn’t built on dominance or performance. It doesn’t demand control. It doesn’t assign erotic authority. It’s a term that signals affection, vulnerability, softness—a playful, sometimes absurd, often tender reverence for men who deviate from traditional masculinity.

That kind of language lives within fandom culture—inside our sandboxes. And when I call someone “babygirl-coded,” that person can ignore it, engage with it, scroll past, or opt in. There’s no pressure. It’s an aesthetic label, not a demand. So when Shawn likes that comment, he’s participating on his own terms. That’s what parasocial consent looks like: voluntary, pressure-free, and rooted in choice.

Now imagine if I had written, “You’re such a daddy. Ruin me.” Totally different tone. Totally different power dynamic. Even if he never saw it, I’d still be inserting a kink-coded script into a public space as if he had agreed to it. And if he had seen it and felt uncomfortable? The onus would fall on him to disengage quietly or laugh it off, because culturally, we’ve given men almost no tools to say “no” without backlash.

Feminist methodology asks better questions:

Whose comfort is protected?

Whose silence is treated as consent?

Whose body is seen as public property?

Whose boundaries get overwritten for the sake of the bit?

We know the answers. They’re gendered. And they’re broken.

When a man is called “daddy” during a press tour, he’s not being asked to play. He’s being expected to perform, sexually, powerfully, on command. And if he doesn’t? The consequences aren’t just social, they’re structural. He’s seen as less fun. Less marketable. Less valuable as content.

That isn’t just unfair. It’s anti-consensual.

As Sara Ahmed writes, to be the one who names a problem is so often to become the problem. The one who says “this feels off,” “this crosses a line,” or simply, “this makes me uncomfortable” is marked as difficult, humorless, or ungrateful. We see this dynamic unfold constantly with male celebrities—especially those who don’t laugh when called “daddy” in person, or who subtly resist being pulled into a sexualized performance they didn’t agree to.

When a man sets a boundary, even quietly, he disrupts the fantasy. And instead of asking what created the discomfort, the culture asks why he couldn't just go along. Because admitting that men can say no, that they’re allowed to feel uneasy, that they don’t exist for our projection, requires challenging the very entitlement fandom often runs on.

So let’s be clear: You can thirst. You can spiral. You can bark, cry, and post your little essays about his shoulders in peace. You can call him whatever in your sandbox corner of the internet.

But forcing someone into your kink-coded fantasy in person, without their consent, and then reacting negatively when they don’t play along, isn’t empowering. It’s not subversive. It’s just public boundary crossing, dressed up as flirtation.

It’s not “owning the gaze.” It’s replicating it—just with the roles reversed.

And reversing the roles isn’t the same as dismantling them.

Roles—no matter how ironic or reversed—are still roles. And assigning someone a role without their participation isn’t liberation. It’s just performance under pressure.

So yes, he’s a grown man.

And that’s exactly why his boundaries matter—especially because he’s not just a celebrity, but a real person, and a parent. Being called “daddy” in person, during a professional setting, isn’t just awkward—it’s an unsolicited invitation into a kink-coded dynamic he didn’t agree to. And when that man is a father in real life, the term becomes even more jarring, blurring roles in a way that’s neither funny nor flattering. His visibility shouldn’t come with the expectation that he absorb sexual projection or emotional labor just to keep the mood light. Silence is not consent. And feminist ethics, if we’re actually practicing them, demand more than clever thirst and role reversal. They require awareness, accountability, and respect for boundaries, no matter who you’re talking to or how attractive you think they are.

And if your only defense is “He can take it,” you’ve already admitted he might not want it, and decided you didn’t care.

That’s not fandom. That’s entitlement. Wrapped in a punchline and passed off as progressive. (referencing this interview)