Jenna Ortega | Met Gala Celebrating "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" | May 05, 2025

in passing.

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot/Wife!Reader Summary: While working opposite shifts for two weeks, Jack Abbot finally gets a day off to spend with his wife. But in true Jack Abbot fashion- he needs to make sure you knew what you had missed out on. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, age gap relationship (older man/younger woman), soft!Dom Jack, overstimulation, teasing, spanking, and Dr. Yapper with his gremlin smile comes with his own warning. Crossposted to AO3

“Hmm, there better be a damn good reason you’re waking me up, Jack.” You smile, sighing into the way your husband’s lips dragged across the back of your neck- his heavy hands pushing your hair to the side as he makes little bites and nips with no particular direction set yet. He needs to shave- you think to yourself, biting your lip a bit from the scratch of his stubble along your neck because it feels good.

“Mhm,” he nods, smiling into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist to drag you closer into his chest. “Missed you.” Mumbling, his fingers tease along the bottom hem of the shirt you were wearing to bed- his shirt, the one he was given in basic. Ratty, seams coming apart slightly with every wash but it was so soft and smelled like him and didn’t even fucking fit him anymore yet he still complains that you steal his clothes. You weren’t asleep- not really. You knew that he would be home soon and you expected him around now, 6 am- crawling into bed behind you and grumbling about how you’re on his side, in his spot. His pillow smelled like him, his side was firmer and it felt like sleeping in his arms when it was like this.

What was this? This- was two weeks of opposite shifts. Two weeks of him working evenings and you on rotating shifts- working wherever you were needed and currently one of the ED residents was on leave, so the morning shift was where you were needed for the time being. It was fine. You liked everyone you worked with but it was hard because you missed Jack. Not just working with him- which honestly was fun but he annoyed you to no end with his incessant need to be the dominating player on the team. But you worked well together- he could count on his wife favorite resident to flank him when he needs, hands working in unison, knowing which clamp he wanted or what to push in the patient's IV before he even asked. Missing him at work aside- you obviously missed him at home too. You missed sleeping next to him, wrapping your arms around him, eating dinner together and laying on the couch with him to watch whatever stupid war documentary that was on because he just had to see.

You had both been trying to work with seeing each other only in passing for the last few weeks. Where you were waking up to make breakfast for you both- spending only 30 minutes together while you sip your coffee before work and Jack fights sleep to spend those few precious minutes with you. Where you were coming home from work while he showers before he leaves for the night- then jumping in with him, kissing the freckles along his shoulders until he has to physically tear himself away from you to not be late again. Where you were making him something to eat for when he wakes up and he was making you dinner so you can just go home and rest, not worrying about anything else other than sleep. A quick kiss while you’re leaving the Pitt, passing him in the stairwell on his way in. Where you were sitting for a few minutes on the roof together after he’s brought you coffee so you can wake up for your shift, just giving each other details of what to expect or what patients were waiting on what before he leaves to go home and sleep. You didn’t even have any days off together. On his days off, Jack had been at the VA hospital with Mel- volunteering some of his limited free time. On your days off you had been helping the resident who had been on leave, maternity leave to be exact- cooking, cleaning, or just holding the baby so she can have a shower or nap. It was fine. Everything was fine. You just missed Jack. And he missed you. And you both finally had a fucking day off together.

“Prove it,” you smirked, still laying on his side of the bed with his chest at your back- kissing your shoulder while letting his hands skim up under your shirt now. You knew he missed you but right now it’s been so long since you’ve had him in bed with you- you just had to tease him. “You don’t miss me. Such a very neglectful husband.” Joking, hearing him scoff at your words but continued dragging his hand up your shirt to cup your breasts.

“I am- so fucking neglectful,” he nods, shoving his hand to come out the neck of your shirt, just so he can grab your jaw and turn your face to him- catching your lips in a desperate kiss. “You should just divorce me. You can keep the house, the kids, the cars” kids meaning the ones you’ve adopted at the hospital- Whitaker, Mel, Santos, Mohan, and Victoria, “just let me fuck you one more time- one more time and I’ll sign wherever the fuck you want me to.” His hand returns to its spot on your breast, palming at it now and you try to giggle at his ramblings but he’s pushing his hips into your ass now- letting you feel how fucking hard he was, moaning in your ear and dammit you missed him so fucking much. His other hand trails down to snake into your underwear- well, it would if you had any on and he groans when he realizes it.

“Think you can slip the kids in there like I wouldn’t notice?” Mumbling into his lips, moaning at the feeling of his fingers running along your slit, collecting the wetness that accumulated after only moments of finally being with him after two weeks. “We split custody, 50/50.” He’s manhandled you a bit- hovering over you now and dragging your shirt up just enough so he can circle his tongue around your nipple, hooking your legs over his hips for him to be able to grind into your uncovered center.

“70/30 and I keep a car.” Jack negotiates, biting your nipple and tugging a bit before coming back to kiss up your neck and lips again. Thrusting your hips up, you use a leg as leverage to roll him back against the bed- clambering up to straddle his hips now and grinding your own down to elicit a whine from him.

“60/40 and you can borrow a car.” Giggling, you pull at his clothes, tugging his boxers and undershirt off- the remaining few clothes he hadn’t rid himself from in anticipation and excitement of getting into bed with you as soon as he was home. You were able to drag your bare pussy over the underside of him now, he was impossibly hard- his cock pointed up, laying flat against his lower stomach and the veins were giving you the perfect texture to grind on. Jack’s large hands settle on your hips, digging into them to guide your movements a bit and if you tilt your hips back just so- the tip of him could easily slide into you and-

“Deal,” he nods, sitting up so he could nip along your jaw- pushing your hair back from your face as his teeth map out a path to your lips again. You sigh into the feeling- letting your arms hang off his shoulders while you lazily kiss him, enjoying the way his slightly chapped lips you know you gave him lip balm and you’re sure it’s shoved into his backpack and lost way at the bottom gave texture to the pleasure, it was something that felt very- Jack. You don’t stop the way your hips move, canting into his slowly while he traces his tongue along your bottom lip- opening your mouth for him so his tongue can swirl around yours. “Now let me fuck you baby, it’s been two weeks.” He thrusts his hips up now, trying to roll you both over so he can be on top but you shove him back down to lay flat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask, reaching under you to grab his cock as you rise up on your knees- teasing the tip along your lower wet lips. Jack rises up on his elbows now, groaning at the feeling of your wetness and anticipation of finally being inside you but-

“Trying to fuck my wife? What are you doing?” He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head like it was obvious- oh. Oh no he’s acting like he doesn’t remember. You knew he remembered, he tries to sit up fully so he can hover over you but you shove him back down again.

“No? I’m fucking you- it’s Monday, I’m on top.” Yes- you did have to make a schedule due to some nights there would be fights over who would be on top and sometimes no sex would happen because neither of you would relent. And of course in true Jack Abbot fashion- he would always try to switch days or say he’s had a hard shift and deserves to be on top or ‘Are you sure it’s not my day?’ And before he could argue more or poorly gaslight you into believing it’s his day- you sink down onto him quickly, gasping and sighing in relief. Two weeks has maybe been the longest you’ve gone without fucking him, not counting the time you banned him from the bedroom while you were studying for your Step 3 exam- that was purely a necessity because there was no way you’d be able to focus with the man literally breathing down your neck.

“That’s not- f-fuck that’s not fair.” It was never fair. That’s the point. And you giggle at his frustration- rolling your hips into a steady and slow rhythm. Jack didn’t try to argue the point anymore, his hands found their way onto your thighs- caressing gently while you got to work on fucking your husband the way you wanted. You liked it slow, loved rocking your hips just right to where you could feel every inch of his thick cock rub against your g-spot, where the curls that collect at the top of his pubic bone kiss at your clit with every roll of your hips. You have one hand on his chest- hand flat to keep him from leaning up and trying to roll you over really pulling the dog tags around his neck slightly, then brushing against the dusting of hair along his pecs before dragging your nails down to his taut stomach- still maintaining his fucking abs at his age was a gift you didn’t know you wanted. Your other hand dragged up your own body, feeling his eyes on you because if anything, your husband had a staring problem and especially loved to stare at you. You kept his eye contact- biting your lip in a smile when you lean back now, hand on his thigh to brace yourself and continue to roll your hips, sighing at the feeling of his cock just grinding into your wet pussy.

“Keep going baby, just like that,” he’ll let you have your fun, for now- but Jack couldn’t deny that you looked fucking ethereal in this moment, riding his cock like you were made for it, sunlight just peeking through the blinds now and kissing your skin in a golden glow. He’s obviously been on edge the last few weeks- but he’s not too proud to admit that burying himself into your cunt keeps him sane, that fucking you into your shared mattress keeps Jack’s patience leveled. Because he can already feel the stress melting away from his body with every slow move you make. He’s watching you drag your hand down your body, fingers circling around your clit and you shudder- clenching around him at the feeling and Jack groans out something almost painful. He can’t cum yet- fuck he needs this to last. “Good girl- play with your clit a little more.” If you cum first then he’ll feel better about blowing his load so fucking fast. But you need to cum first.

“Play with it for me,” You smirked, grabbing his hand from where it was squeezing your thigh- dragging it along to right above where you both were connected. He blacks out for a moment- he thinks. Jack circles his calloused thumb around your swollen clit, slow tight movements that work in tandem with the way you rolled your body on top of his. Your other hand grabs his free one and drags it up your torso, settling on your breast, palming at it with warm heavy hands- leaving you moaning from the added sensation. You started to roll your hips faster, leaning forward a bit to place both your hands on his chest to secure your movements. You were so fucking wet- you could hear it with each pass of your pussy across his cock and you would almost be embarrassed from the sound but you were so fucking worked up that you gave no shits. He could feel you leak from around his cock- using the collection of wetness to rub your clit faster. “Like that baby- fuck keep doing that.” You praise him. Even with such a minimal effort, the swirl of this thumb along your clit had your body on fire- the sparks of your orgasm starting to tease along in your gut. Jack rolled your nipple between his thumb and index finger- groaning when you whined, clenching around him again. You were close- he could tell. He could feel it in how your body was reacting- he just needed to push you a bit farther.

“Let me help you baby,” Jack sat up now, ignoring your protests as he removed his hand from your breast- using his arm now to wrap around your waist and pull your chest closer to his face so he can get your nipple into his mouth. Oh. Fuck- it’s was good. His mouth sucked and bit your nipple while he continued rubbing perfect circles around your clit- stubble scratching your chest but gave that extra bit of pleasure that had your thighs tightening around his hips. Fucking asshole, he knew exactly what to do- exactly how to make you cum fast. You tug on his curls at the back of his head- making him moan and bite down on your nipple now before giving a soft kiss so he can give the other equal attention. Fuck you were so close and this was so good- but you needed him deeper. Using his shoulder as leverage, you rose up on your knees until he was just notched at your entrance- looking down at him from where he was sucking marks along your chest and smiling when he nodded, almost begging you to slam down on his cock and you’re definitely not one to deny your husband. You are and you’ll deny him on purpose to be a bitch- just not this time.

Slowly, so teasingly slow, you sank back down on him as you stared into those fucking eyes you love so much- seemingly dark and brown but you spent so much time staring into them when you first met that you realized they’re hazel. Golden flecks on the inside and rings of green on the outside- you could get lost in them if he’d let you. He would. He would do anything that you asked- minimal complaints. He groaned now, eyebrows scrunched up and mouth slightly open as you sank back down onto him so devastatingly slow- just to feel every ridge and vein of his cock until you were seated onto him once more. Tugging on his hair again- you force his mouth against yours- moaning into a hot kiss, tongue and teeth mostly but shared breaths from the panting of your efforts. The hand around your waist dipped down a bit to grab a handful of your ass, helping to guide you onto his cock- up and down and he’s trying to get you to move faster because he needs to feel the slickness of your wet pussy around him. “Faster.” He barks out- tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, slapping your ass hard for emphasis.

“Stop topping from the bottom Jack.” You scoff- trying to comply, but honestly your thighs were starting to burn and were sore now from just the width of his hips keeping you open. He needs more and it’s so hard to keep composure when you're gently bouncing up and down onto him and he can’t fucking take it anymore. You’ve had your fun- his turn now. He reluctantly removes his fingers from your clit- kissing your cheek when you whine but grabs your hips with both his hands to keep you still, hovering just above him. You knew what he was going to do- you braced yourself on his strong freckled shoulders for it. He keeps you immobile- heavy hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t move even if you fucking tried as he thrusts up into you. Dammit- he was going to ruin you. You couldn’t take the hammering, the devastation and ruin of the pace he started to pound into you from below. You couldn’t make a sound- mouth hung open from the pleasure that started to build up in your veins. You’re so fucking glad that you were still impossibly wet- aiding the slide of his thick cock spearing up into you because the were still some resistance just from the fucking girth of him.

“Someone sounds pretty fucking ungrateful for how good they’re being fucked right now-” he growls out- removing his hand to slap your ass again. He was only slightly right. You weren't being completely ungrateful because he was fucking you so good- just how you like it. He tilts your hips just slightly back, angling them so he can fuck up into your g-spot and you’re sure you scream from the pleasure and you just pray the neighbors don’t call the cops again. Heat courses along your veins- the familiar height of a peaking orgasm strangles its way down your spine to settle into your gut, pulling each wave higher with every thrust of his cock up into you. His pace doesn’t falter- one thing about your husband is that his stamina is still that of a fucking soldier. More than 10 years your senior and you’re the one panting and exhausted after being fucked into the mattress while he can go at least another two rounds with just a sip of water- as a treat. You bite his shoulder- not carrying if it hurts him because this feels so fucking good and you need to not scream in his ear but he’s threading his fingers through your hair and forcing you to look at him and- “don’t hide now baby- you wanted this remember?” He doesn’t stop wrecking into you, doesn’t stop slamming his hips up into your wet pussy- smirking when you close your eyes and his hand slams back down onto your ass because ‘you know better honey.

“Wait Jack nooo-” You whine, feeling him shift so he can shove you back to lay at the foot of the bed while he settles on top of you, cool metal of his dog tags now against your chest to soothe the marks he made- never fully leaving the delicious tightness of your cunt. Asshole. At least you lasted longer on top this time. “You’re such a dick.” You moan out- wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively before he can do it for you. He didn’t care- well he did but in his mind he’s fucking you so you can relax and let him do the work, ‘it’s a love language honey’ he’d tell you. And it was so hard to deny that logic as he drives himself into you deeper, burying himself so fucking deep that it pushes you farther down the bed and your head is hanging off the edge now but it gives him access to kiss along your neck and suck marks on your collarbone to match the ones adorning your chest.

“I know- a neglectful dick of a husband who fucks you so well,” he replies in a mocking tone- taunting you while kissing along your neck and jaw now, so gentle and sweet in contrast to the way his hips were slamming into your own. The sound was bouncing around in the room you shared- sweaty hips against each other, panting and moans that were muffled by sloppy kisses, Jack fucking talking so much that you know he’s about to cum when he finally does shut up, which he hasn’t- not yet. “Now you can’t divorce me- who will treat your pussy this good baby?” He’s baiting you now- getting you riled up from the way his mouth spews filth and nonsense into your ear while he tugs the lobe between his teeth. You just accept the pleasure, sinking into the bed with one hand braced on the wall next to you and the other clawing at his back while he drills right into your tight heat, unwavering speed that has you gasping for air, holding your breath with the impending orgasm in sight. “I said who?” He slows, pulling out and letting his cock rest between your folds now- slapping the side of your thigh now and grabbing your jaw so you can look into his eyes. “Lemme see those pretty eyes while you tell me who fucks you this good.”

“J-Jack- don’t stop,” you whine, your voice pitching at the end- frustrated and wiggling your hips a bit to get him to wreck into you like he had been. He chuckles, squeezing your jaw tighter and it opens from the pressure- his thumb sliding in for you to suck.

“Don’t be greedy,” he clicks his tongue while slowly dragging his cock back and forth between your wet lips and letting the tip catch your clit but pulling back before it can really do much else other than stress you out and beg, “I’m being very fucking nice to you right now- don’t be a greedy little girl.” He notches at your entrance again, just teasing the tip slowly in and out to annoy you now. He doesn’t count on you still being so fucking pent up from two weeks of deprivation that you roll your hips into his, shoving yourself forward so he can ram back inside your wet cunt. It catches him off guard, the way you angle your hips so you can fuck yourself on his cock in desperation- sucking on his thumb and moaning helplessly while trying to catch back up to the fleeting orgasm from only moments ago. You’re fucking sight to behold in his eyes- chasing your own orgasm, taking it from him and he smiles now because- “that’s my fucking girl.” Pulling his hand away from your jaw and burying his face into your neck, he grab both your thighs to spread you open for him now so he can absolutely fucking ruin you.

“Fuck- Jack,” the way you say his name is stuttered a bit with every thrust he pounds into your tight pussy. Your thighs start to shake, being forced open by his hands- you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow in the shape of his fingers wouldn’t be the first time- won’t be the last. “I missed you so much baby, fuck I love you, I love you so fucking much.” He moans into your neck, nodding with every single whisper or whine that you spit out as you drag your fingers through his curls to pull. When you’re close to a mind altering orgasm, you start talking- babbling almost incoherently about anything, how good his cock feels, how good he fucks you, how much you love him. When Jack is close- it’s the only time he ever fucking shuts up, concentrating on making you cum first before he can even think about getting there, listening to the way your voice gets higher like it does when your about to cum, feeling your thighs shake and your pussy clenched around him.

“I’m- I need you to cum okay?” Pressing his forehead against yours, gritting out the words because it takes so much of his fucking energy to think and speak as he’s sliding viciously between your legs- the feeling has him drunk off your pussy and he needs to concentrate. You just nod, whimpering and inching your hand between you both to rub your clit but he catches it- pulling it up to kiss your knuckles before- “let me do it baby- let me.” He mumbles, dragging his rough hand down your body now and you swear you see stars when his fingers finally trace around your clit lightly. Even when he’s teetering on the edge of cumming so deep inside you with so much of his load- he needs to make sure you’re taken care of first. You tried. Fuck- you had tried so hard after that first week to get yourself off. Laying in bed with your fingers as deep as they could reach- but they weren’t like Jack’s. Didn’t reach like his could- didn’t fill you up like his and you just ended up annoyed and frustrated and digging in that box of toys for that vibrator he uses on you when you’re tied up to the bedpost and begging him to fuck you. It still didn’t work and after hours of trying you were in tears.

“A-almost, fuck- almost there Jack,” the thick drag of his cock was laying waste to your pussy- demolishing every single thought you had about anything. The only thing you cared about in this moment was your husband on top of you, burying his face in your neck and biting his dog tags to keep from cumming until you’re ready. A few more rough thrusts, a few more rolls of his fingers around your clit and then it finally happens- the drop. The sick fucking drop of your gut and the pleasure takes over to seize your body in a blinding orgasm that has your mouth open in a silent scream- which would’ve been his name if you had any neurons available to do so. You thought your orgasm would inspire one in him- thought the spasms and clenching would push him to cum but he preserves. His pace falters slightly but Jack doesn’t stop, lets the dog tags fall from his mouth to lick up your neck and into your mouth now- tasting the way you whine and sigh, lazily letting his tongue trace along your own. His pace is slow now, removing his hand from your sore clit and inches his way slowly through your walls because he doesn’t want this to end. He’s been deprived of your body for two weeks- he tried to use his hand, fucking his fist in the shower while leaning against the tiles but it did nothing. He couldn’t cum no matter how much he thought of you, no matter how he stroked himself, fast, slow, hard, gentle- he wanted you.

You know he wants to cum, you know Jack is using whatever sense he has left to force himself to make this last. You’re whispering to him- telling him it’s okay to cum, that you want him to cum inside you so bad. That makes his hips stutter, his resolve starts to crack because you’re begging him to cum now- begging him to fill you up with his cum and he’s fighting within himself. Between the feeling of wanting to cum so fucking back inside you and wanting this to last- he’s struggling. He forces himself to slow down more, resting his entire body on yours for a small bit of relief while just- grinding into you now as he figures out if he wants to cum or feel your hot, tight, throbbing pussy for longer. You’re bordering on the edge of too much- but you’ve missed Jack so much that you just lay there and take it. Take the impending overstimulation from how he lazily fucks into you. One of your hands comes to thread through his sweaty curls now, almost trying to soothe the tension that he’s creating within himself. You feel the tightness in your gut again- the first orgasm opening the door to countless more because your husband is fucking relentless and can’t make a decision on which way he wants to kill you. Jack mindlessly kisses and licks at your neck- moaning when he feels the trembling of your thighs from another devastating orgasm and you can only whimper through it. He pauses- momentarily because if he kept fucking your through your orgasm he’s sure he’d cum from the way your pussy flares and gets so much wetter. And once he knows you’ve came, his pace continues. Slow. Nowhere to be but in bed with you. Inside you

“J-Jack-” helplessly whining, ignoring the few tears that fall from your cheeks from a combination of pleasure and inching on pain. Not hurting but raw and sensitive no matter how fucking wet you still were. He doesn’t care- he makes a little shake of his head and a- ‘nuh uh’ sound that was muffled from being buried in your hair and shoulder. He can’t. Not yet. A few more minutes but not yet. He promises, mumbles that he will cum soon but he just needs to be inside you for a bit longer. The grinding of him inside you, not even thrusting just grinding to conserve his energy- has him rubbing against your sore clit and you can fucking feel another orgasm clawing its way up your chest and you have no time to mentally prepare because it’s slamming its way into you again. You shake and cry and whimper against Jack but he’s steady, sighing into the feeling of you trembling underneath him as if it was a comfort to him. He’s found his voice again- softly whispering praise into your ear and telling you how much he loves you, that he’s going to fill you full of his cum soon- ‘you’re being such a good girl for me baby, always my girl.’ You’re so tired and sore and the sun has finally risen fully to bathe your bedroom in light but you can only stare up at the ceiling, sighing with how softly Jack fucks into you because it’s so good- so fucking good but almost getting to be too much again. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his slow grinds have gotten sloppy- no real pace or rhythm to them as he’s losing the grip he had on his determination.

“Cum inside me Jack-” you whimper, turning your face to nudge against his, making him look into your eyes. “I want you to cum inside me baby- I need it so bad. Please Jack?” God his heart and strength shatter when you beg. He’s never really been able to tell you no- not when it mattered really. You were his biggest weakness, Jack Abbot was a man fucking whipped for his wife- you who just have to bat your pretty lashes at him and he’ll fall to his knees for you. And asking him to cum inside you? He only gets a second- maybe two before he’s stalling and tensing while he cums inside you, making sure to get it as deep as he can. He doesn’t move- not just yet. Mumbling incoherent praise and kissing along your jaw and neck that was red and rare from his stubble making a mental note to yourself to make sure he shaves later. Leaning up on his elbows he pants, groaning just a bit when he finally pulls his cock out of you but doesn’t leave your arms just yet. Shared breathing and giggles, soft pecks of your lips against his- pushing the sweaty curls that have fallen onto his forehead back.

“I love you,” he repeats, a final kiss as you happily moan into his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and stretching the aching muscles a bit. Jack rolls off of you, coming to lay shoulder to shoulder now and his hand drops to catch yours, bringing it up to his lips to kiss where your ring was nestled comfortably on your finger.

“You need to shave,” turning to face him and running your hands over his jaw to emphasize the point. “Lucky you didn’t eat me out- would’ve had rug burn on both my fucking lips.” He barks out a laugh- intertwining your fingers together and letting your hands rest between you both.

“Guess I know how I’m waking you up then,” he smirks, turning his head to meet your eyes and-

“If you give me beard burn on my pussy you’re taking full custody of the kids,” you throw back, sitting up to stretch and for a yourself to stand because you absolutely need a shower now and-

“So is that a no to licking you awake or?”

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espressheauxs

5 months ago

8K notes View Post

espressheauxs

1 month ago

So is Italian!reader a ballerina cappuccina or espressora senora

LMAO she can def be both. I think her espressora signora is something that’s more for Jack tho..

Companionship | pt. 10

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael finally discuss where you stand with each other…and the feelings rooting around in your heart.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: I’m a people pleaser at heart, so here’s the next one a bit early! (you guys are great omg thank you so much!)🥹

My current outline has sixteen parts + an epilogue, so seven parts to go! Still undecided if I want to wait around for season two to see if I should pick it back up, or just end it (but I’m so attached to them lol)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, feelings, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, finally some comfort

not beta read

You felt like you had stared at the large red ENTRANCE sign for an hour, but it was likely only a minute. Your heart was in your throat. You still had no clue what you really wanted to say to Michael; nothing felt adequate enough. How could you translate the anger, or the steadfast longing in your chest without crossing them? Without forgoing one and letting it fester?

Did you risk it all on the truth? Did you attempt to find a middle ground in just a friendship? Or would it be better to decide to cut it all off before it got worse? Your stomach rolled uneasily, your anxiety working its way through your chest.

Stepping into the emergency department waiting room, you noted how much busier it was. Frowning, you thought to just turn around and see her PCP, call Michael and apologize. Surely, he should understand.

Your eyes met the registration clerk—Lupe—and she waved you forward, stopping all the thoughts in their tracks. She smiled as you approached.

You pulled the corners of your lips up in greeting.

“I’ll let Dr. Robby know you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

You found a seat far off to the side, eyeing several of the other people warily. A good few of them looked far worse than you did, and all you needed were your stitches removed. Guilt worked its way through your system — you really should have kept your PCP appointment and just met Michael somewhere to talk.

It only took a few minutes before Michael was walking out into the waiting room, his face neutral. There was something flickering in his eyes, however, as they searched for you.

When your eyes met, they held steady — an entire ocean of things unsaid sitting between you, the last month of all the anxiety, the longing, the anger, the uncertainty, crashed into that waiting room. The room halted, and grew impossibly silent, your entire world centered on his brown eyes. It felt like meeting his gaze at the cafe all over again but with a knowing this time — just a shred of it, but it made your heart race.

Then he smiled and you finally relaxed.

You stood and walked towards him, ignoring the way several other people complained that you had only just arrived. His eyes centered you and you fought the heat crawling to your cheeks coming from his attention, overthinking each of your movements and trying to school them. You needed to hold onto some of your anger so you didn’t jump into the deep end too early.

There were still so many things you needed to talk about. So many things to figure out.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Robby.” You teased, though it came out clunkier than you had hoped and you internally cursed at yourself.

The corner of his mouth rose higher and he gestured for you to follow after him. You stepped into pace with him, side-eyeing him and trying to calm your racing heart. It was stupid that he could still have this effect on you, even when you were still a bit mad at him.

“Short notice is the name of the game in the Pitt.” He teased back.

Your nose scrunched, “The Pitt?”

He waved his hand to motion to the ER, “I call this place the Pitt. Affectionately, of course.”

You chuckled lightly, “Affectionately? Right, of course.”

He smirked, moving past the main desk and toward a room. The nurse who had helped you last time—Dana—watched curiously as you passed by. You tried to ignore the attention as several eyes glued to the side of your face.

You could see why the waiting room was so packed, there were no beds available in the back. Michael eventually gestured to an open “room”. The only privacy you would be afforded was a curtain. Heat crawled up your back, the kind of feeling where it was obvious you were being watched. You glanced back to the main desk, where several nurses had gathered, and Michael followed your gaze. When his eyes settled on everyone, they dispersed almost immediately.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a room—”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I need to strip.” You said offhandedly, “It’s only my palm.”

His face was red by the time you looked back at him, but he adjusted it quickly and smiled softly. You sat up on the gurney. Michael tapped on the tablet for a few moments, before setting it aside.

“Alright, let me see.” He reached into the inside of his hoodie to grab glasses out of his scrubs pocket.

The black frames sat elegantly on his nose and your brain short circuited. You stared at him dumbly, barely registering his eyebrow raising.

You swallowed thickly, “You wear glasses?”

He blinked, glancing away from your face, “I know, I know. I look like such an old man—”

“No.” You said quickly. “Distinguished. Intellectual. Handsome. Poetic.” Fucking devastating in the best way, in a way that could ruin any restraint I thought I had, you thought before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Definitely not old.”

His ears got red, and his lips gave way for a gentle smile to break through. His eyes avoided you, looking down at the tray table and fussing with a few of the instruments. He moved to get latex gloves on, and you had the fleeting thought that you preferred his skin on yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered huskily as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your palm and assessed it. “It’s healing really well.”

The latex felt like the heavy conversation that needed to happen, keeping you from being skin-to-skin.

“It’s still fuckin’ itchy.” You said, a corner of your mouth quirking up.

Michael laughed, “You’ll still need to keep it covered.”

You scrunched your nose at him, “I was hoping this would be it.”

He shook his head at you, “Not quite. I’ll remove the stitches and then apply some adhesive strips, which you should keep on for another five days. Then bandages will be fine after that.”

You let out a long breath, “Trying not to stretch out my palm has been hard enough for just two weeks. It’s my dominant hand.”

“This shouldn’t hurt at all, but let me know if it does.” He said, bringing surgical scissors to your wound. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be trying to grab knives as they fall.”

You frowned, but an eyebrow raised in amusement, “I’m trying out for a juggling competition. Riskier the item, the bigger the reward.”

He smirked, “Yeah?”

“Totally, but this one guy lit his knives on fire, so I think he wins.”

Michael chuckled lightly, beginning to cut away your stitches, pulling away the pieces. He was right in the fact that it didn’t hurt, but you felt the tugging at your skin that felt odd coupled with the wound itching.

“I definitely don’t think you should be signing up for any competitions for at least a month.”

You faked a scowl, “I suppose I could, on doctor’s orders.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. Neither of you moved for several beats of your heart.

“I don’t know if you’re busy later—”

“Do you want to—”

You stared at each other and each of your lips broke out into a grin.

Michael cleared his throat, looking back down to remove your stitches. “I don’t know if you’re busy later, but perhaps we could get together to talk? We could meet at a more neutral location this time, so you’re not uncomfortable.”

“Talking really wasn’t that great last time.” You said quietly, your stomach knotting together.

Michael frowned, a long breath of air escaping his nose, his eyebrows pulling together while he focused on the task. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

An awkward air swarmed into their space. You became painfully aware of the eyes again, and you not so subtly looked up to find Langdon hovering by a patient in the “room” to your right. A nurse was standing beside him and she avoided your eyes when you looked over at them. Averting your eyes, you tried to focus on Michael’s hands so the embarrassment wouldn’t creep in.

“I think we’re being watched.” You leaned just a bit closer to him, whispering as low as you could.

Michael looked up and then over his shoulder. He spotted the onlookers easily.

“Gossip hounds, the lot of them.” He told you, though not unkindly.

“We should probably talk elsewhere, then.” You said, “To clear the air, of course.”

“Of course.” He echoed, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Your place?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel—”

“No, I think it might be better than trying to have this conversation somewhere in public.” You told him with a small shrug.

He nodded in agreement, “Yeah, okay. I’ll text you when I leave tonight and you can meet me there.”

“Just promise me something?” You ventured, trying to look into his eyes.

He looked back at you, “Anything.”

“No more hiding. Just honesty.”

“No more hiding.”

—

Michael’s apartment seemed much more daunting than it ever had, even the first time you had been there. The last time you had been in it, you had kissed and then you had fled. What might have changed if you had stayed?

You shook off the what ifs and got into the elevator. Tapping your foot to try to get rid of your anxious energy before you walked in, fiddling with your fingernails. You knew bringing in the nerves with you would suit you ill.

There was still a lingering ache in your heart and your stomach rolled. Realistically, you should have prepped more for the worst, for the “I’m too old for you” and “you don’t want me” or even “this can’t happen”, “I don’t want you like that”. It seized the ache and made it burn — shame, embarrassment bleeding and drowning the shred of hope that was trying to grow.

Knocking on his door, you held your breath. You felt your heart pound against your ribs and you rubbed anxious circles onto your thigh.

His face did little to quell your concerns when he opened the door. He invited you in with a sheepish smile, still in his scrub bottoms but with a new shirt.

You sat awkwardly on his couch while he went to get you a glass of water, desperately trying not to bounce your leg.

Michael walked back into the living room, setting down your water onto a coaster before finally sitting beside you. The silence was crushing, the only sounds coming from your breathing and the hum of the radiators.

“Look, I really just want to apologize for what I said to you. I hurt you and I’m really sorry.” Michael told you softly, and you met his gaze, but struggled to hold it. “It was—it was unfair. More than unfair to throw that in your face. I think very highly of you, actually, and the agreement just kept getting in the way.”

“Getting in the way?” You questioned, “Of what? What you thought about me? That I was just—”

“No, no,” he sighed, “It was making me second guess my own feelings. If they were real. If it was okay. I was getting painfully insecure about it.”

You gave a nod and a pause stretched between you.

“I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t have done without the agreement, or if I ever would have approached you otherwise. We likely still would have never crossed paths, so I have to at least be thankful that we did, despite the circumstances.” You said.

“I just thought—I thought it was one sided, until you kissed me back and—” His voice grew tight, “You ran. It only made me run further from my own feelings. I felt so guilty. I felt like a creep. It wasn’t what we had agreed to and I eventually thought that you were just entertaining me. That it really didn’t mean anything. I wanted to end it to spare myself the humiliation.”

Blinking slowly at him, you digested his words. Feelings. He had feelings. For me.

“I wasn’t entertaining you. I forgot about the agreement sometimes, too. I didn’t really know how to bring it up without sounding like an idiot. Or for you to think I was just being naive. I was trying to save myself the embarrassment when I ran, of it just being a spur of the moment thing or something that didn’t actually mean anything to you. Because it meant something to me. I really wish I did stay, but I can be a coward sometimes. I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t. I mean…spur of the moment, maybe, but I had thought about it before. I got scared because it meant something to me, too.” He said, voice quiet. “But the agreement made me feel weird about it—”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “It felt like that for me too. But I kept thinking about it every day after that.”

“You’re young—”

“That doesn’t negate my feelings.”

He stared at your face, absorbing your words. “You don’t need to be tied down to an old man like me.”

You shook your head at him, “With or without the agreement, I’m free to make my own choices. About what I want. About…this. About you.”

He watched you closely, eyes flickering across your face. His expression shifted, just slightly, like hope seeped in, his eyebrows raising just slightly. “My life can be a mess. And I’ll be honest in the fact that you can do so much better.”

You frowned, “I won’t beg, Michael, you don’t have to—I—my feelings for you are all out in the open now and I won’t take them back.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rubbing his hands along his pants while he looked away. “I promised I wouldn’t run anymore, so…I’m here. I want to stay. I want to figure out what this is, or could be.”

A breath of relief exited your nose, before you took another breath to steady yourself. “I want to forgive you, and I think I’ll still need some time—”

“—and that’s okay—”

“—but I like this. I want to see where it could go.”

“...you do?” He asked tentatively, eyebrows raising slightly.

You swallowed, your throat growing tight. No more running. “No more agreement. Just two adults…trying to figure it all out.”

“Frankly, I don’t know where we stand without it…the agreement, I mean.”

“We could start fresh,” you offered, sticking out her hand and introducing yourself. Like it was the first time you were meeting.

He glanced at you hand and smiled, taking hold of it with his own, “Nice to meet you. My name is Michael and I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

An easy smile formed, “I’d like that.”

[ Next ]

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08 @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Me being Peter 3: I love you guys😭

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