Work Text:
True to his word, Jack buys you breakfast after your shift at a café far enough from the hospital that you won’t run into any nosey PTMC characters.
Abbot isn’t worried about being seen in public with you for his sake. He’s frankly too old to give a damn what anyone thinks of him. He knows, and more importantly Gloria knows, that he is way too important to the Pitt’s everyday functioning to be fired over something trivial; like fucking his resident into her mattress so hard the bed broke. To be fair, he repaired the bed frame for you and then bought you a new one when it broke again.
In a perfect world, he would’ve locked you down a long time ago with a heavy rock on your ring finger.
Jack is worried about being seen outside of the hospital and far closer than is professional for your sake and reputation. You’re way too talented and smart to ever be rumored as someone who slept their way to the top.
You made the mistake of leaving your phone face-up on the table while you and Jack sipped coffee you shouldn’t be drinking, but you both knew you wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon anyway. Not with the serious conversations that loomed ahead.
An incoming call from “Keelan from Bumble 🐝” lights up your screen. Jack’s eyes zero in on the contact photo that must’ve been screenshotted directly from his dating app profile. You were right, Keelan did look like Dad material. You follow Jack’s eyes to your phone and glance back at his face. Jack is focused. You casually silence the ringer, covering the photo, and slip your phone into your scrub pocket casually, as if it were just a spam call.
Abbot raises his eyebrows and waits for an explanation. You ignore his expectant look and easily get back to your previous conversation. Jack obliges, but he commits the guy’s name to memory.
After breakfast, Jack invites you back to his apartment. It takes a lot of willpower, but you decline. You’ve been angry at the man for months. You’re almost disappointed in yourself that it took less than two hours with him to dissolve any lingering resentment. Some distance will do you good, at least for the time it will take for you to wash the last 15 hours off your skin and get some overdue sleep. The short distance might bring clarity, or it might make you miss Jack even more. Either way, it’ll be telling.
Sleep finds you easily for the first time in a long time in your bed. Part of the reason you liked sleeping at Jack’s place so much was his mattress. It was far kinder on your aching muscles than the shitty mattress you could barely afford when you moved to Pittsburgh four years ago as an intern. Somehow, your shoebox of an apartment felt safer and softer now. You didn’t feel the dig of the mattress springs and you weren’t interrupted by the sound of the window AC unit rattling to life. The apartment felt peaceful, stable. Or maybe it was you.
You can’t resist Jack for long. You never could. You wake up a little after 5 p.m. to a text from your attending.
16:57 I’m making your favorite for dinner if you want to come over.
Abbot rarely cooks actual meals at home. The pots and pans hidden in cabinets, some of them gathering dust, were typically reserved for guests and special occasions. He was hoping you’d check both boxes.
You snort. He’s not playing dirty, per se, but he knows you won’t be able to say no to the invite. Not if there’s lasagna involved.
17:14 I’ll bring a fire extinguisher.
You rub the sleep from your eyes as the text sends. Jack responds within seconds.
17:14 Rude.
You chuckle. The happiness feels like a betrayal to the heartbreak you wallowed in for weeks on end, but you can’t bring yourself to be upset.
The first time Jack made the lasagna recipe you raved about, he scrambled to put out the fire that sparked in his oven while you scaled his kitchen counter to shut off the shrill blare of the fire alarm. The fire died down just in time for Jack to see you lose your balance and start to fall from the counter. He caught you in his sturdy arms before you hit the floor.
“My knight in shining armor,” you cooed, thumbing his worn PTMC Charity 5K shirt. He rolled his eyes and set you back on your feet, not letting go until you finished coughing from the minor smoke inhalation.
The lasagna was forfeited that night and you opted for take-out instead.
In the many moons since then, he’s gotten a little better at cooking. Now, he remembers to set a timer before he starts eating you out like a man starved, getting lost in you and the pretty sounds you make just for him.
The door is unlocked when you arrive at Jack’s, just like old times. Maybe you should’ve knocked, but old habits die screaming. You slip back into the comfort only Jack could bring you, like it was a lost beloved sweater found in the back of a closet.
The kitchen smells amazing. You don’t announce your presence, you just walk up behind Jack where he stands at the counter and slip your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his defined back. You want to hate how easy it is to fall back into this. Even after he hurt you, he’s still the only place you want to call home.
The vet tenses then quickly relaxes when he recognizes your gentle touch.
“Hi,” Jack hums. He almost says baby, the name he called you until he lost that privilege, but he holds his tongue. He doesn’t know how quickly you’ll let him back in, if at all. He’ll be damned if he moves too fast and loses you for good.
Abbot hears you reply with a quiet “hey” before your lips press to his soft shirt. He leans back into your hold more. He thinks this is a good sign and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
You actually did bring a fire extinguisher. It’s resting near the wall by the fridge. Abbot does a double-take.
“Seriously?” he asks, though he can’t even take that much offense to it. His track record isn’t great. You just shrug and sit on a bar stool, moving through Jack’s apartment like it’s your own.
The oven timer ends and its alarm breaks the comfortable silence. Doctor Abbot is really laying it on thick when he serves your fresh lasagna with an herb garnish decorating the plate.
Breakfast with Jack was good, but this lasagna is even better. You moan around your first bite and Jack’s dick twitches involuntarily.
The two of you eventually move to Jack’s couch after dinner. The almost nightly routine resumes as if no time has passed at all. You sit down a safe distance apart, but your feet end up in Jack’s lap anyway and he mindlessly massages your legs. The conversation from earlier about what this means—being Jack and YN again, not just Doctor Abbot and Doctor YLN—picks up. It’s flowing smoothly. You hold your cards close to your chest. You’re protective, but Jack makes you want to let down your guard and defenses without even trying. Abbot shows his entire hand. If complete vulnerability and honesty are what it takes to win you back, Abbot will do it ten times over.
A singular ping from your phone breaks your focus. You glance at the lit screen that’s unintentionally just outside of Jack’s view. You laugh lightly at the text message before silencing your phone and laying it face down.
Jack loves it when you laugh. Scratch that, Jack loves it when you laugh for him. A twinge of envy in him has a feeling you’re not chuckling at a meme Ellis sent. You wait for Jack to pick up where he left off. Instead, his eyes bounce between you and your phone.
“Was that Ken? Keith? Whatever his name is…” Abbot tries to sound casual but he’s far from it.
“It’s Keelan, Jack.” You smirk at the man with gray curls. You never pinned him as the jealous type, but now you’re seeing him in a whole new light. A perverted part of you thinks you’re actually into it.
“Are you… jealous?” You test the word and wait for his reaction.
“I’m not jealous of some kid almost 20 years younger than me,” he brushes it off, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. Doctor Abbot is a horrible liar.
“But you’re fucking someone like 20 years younger than you,” you retort, barely missing a beat. Jack doesn’t miss the fact that you say it in the present tense. It gives him more hope.
“Double standards exist for a reason.” He shrugs. He’s lying—you know it and he knows it. Jack is jealous of the random guy you met on a dating app. The dating app you only joined to distract you from the Abbot-shaped hole in your heart.
Just like the rest of the night—walking in Jack’s unlocked front door without pause, eating together on his barstools, lounging on the sectional while he massages you—your routine falls right back into place. It’s not long before Jack is on top of you. He makes the first move, but he waits with bated breath until you reciprocate.
Abbot’s world falls back into place and he swears the stars align when you kiss him back, just as fervently as he felt for you.
You’ve barely done anything, but you can already feel him hard against your thigh. In Jack’s defense, he hasn’t been with anyone since that last night with you months ago, and his right hand can only take care of so much, even when he’s replaying visions of you in the shower. The loose sweatpants don’t do much to conceal his genetic blessing. You squirm at the thought of taking him again.
You yelp when Jack tosses you over his shoulder and marches with determination to the bedroom. When you wiggle, trying to get loose from his grasp, he delivers a firm slap to your ass. You stop moving after that and blush, your head settles into Jack’s firm back.
Abbot wants to take his time with you. He really does. But the way you’re looking at him right now, and the sounds you’re making for him? He’s not sure he’ll last long enough to do all the things he dreams of doing to your body. He’s settled between your thighs and is unwrapping you like a present. Your leggings are the first to go. Your panties would be next if you were wearing any. Instead, Jack is immediately treated to the sight of your glistening folds. Wet and ready, just for him.
You little tease.
One long lick of his thick muscle from your weeping hole up to your clit has you moaning and arching off the bed. You’re a little embarrassed by how quickly he melts you to a puddle in his capable hands. Like him, it’s been months since you’ve been intimate. Your vibe can only do so much for you, and it doesn’t hold a candle to Jack and his decades of experience.
Abbot smirks at how responsive you are. You blush and hide your face behind your hands, but he peels them back until you’re looking at him.
“Eyes on me, baby.” His voice is gravely as he commands. So much for waiting to say “baby”; but all things considered, he’s pretty sure that’s not the most sensitive boundary the two of you are pushing right now.
When he’s certain you’re watching him again, when you’re watching yourself respond to him, he dives right back in. Your gasp and tighten your grasp on Jack’s left hand where your fingers are intertwined. Abbot’s calloused right hand supplements his mouth and tongue and stubble, pushing you even closer to the precipice you craved so badly.
You will your eyes to stay open, to watch Jack, and you notice how he’s rutting into the mattress. Subtlety can be his strong suit, but it isn’t right now, not with the way he’s grinding to find some relief. You’re oh so close, and you imagine he is too. Abbot groans when your fingers card through his curls and pull, maybe a little harder than necessary. The sight of his face flushed and damp with you makes you bite your lip.
“I was just getting started,” he pants heavily. He moves, gravitating back to your center and you tug on his curls again.
“What?” Jack is exasperated and needy.
“I need you to fuck me,” you say with innocent eyes and a soft voice. Abbot thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He sputters but moves without protest, leaning back on his knees to dig through his nightstand for a condom. You grab his wrist, effectively stopping his search.
“Don’t bother.” You say it simply, as if the mere notion of taking you raw won’t make him bust in his sweatpants right now.
“Baby, are you sure we shouldn’t-” Jack chokes on the rest of his argument when you take off your sweatshirt. Any words he had previously thought died on his tongue when he finally saw you laying completely bare and exposed for him on his bed.
“I’m sure,” you purr and pull him back towards you by his sweatpants drawstring. He sheds his pants and boxers in one go. It’s all the confirmation Abbot needs before he grabs you by the hips and positions you just how he needs you.
You gasp and revel in the pain quickly mixing with pleasure when Jack drives into you all in one thrust. Jack sputters and his hips involuntarily jerk as he gets refamiliarized with the feeling of your body pulling him in and choking him with a vice grip.
Both of you still, overwhelmed by the feel of each other. It feels so right, having you like this after so long. Jack hates that he pushed you away, but knows he’ll spend every day working to win you back for as long as you’ll let him.
When Abbot is able to move again, you roll your hips to meet him. His eyes roll into the back of his head and he has to do a breathing exercise just to stay upright.
“Baby, I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps. Your face scrunches and you nod—showing expressions you’ll only ever make for him.
“Me neither,” you gasp as he moves, his slow pace quickly speeding up. Your fingers grab and pull at his shirt until you’ve probably stretched out the material. Jack enjoys watching the way your breasts bounce in time with his movements and decides he oughta take off his shirt too. He barely takes a second to pause and keeps a consistent rhythm while he pulls off his shirt by the collar with one hand. Your hands immediately return to his back and he grins at the feeling of your short nails leaving marks across his freckled skin.
Abbot is so close. He can practically hear his heart beating and he knows a vein must be visible on his forehead with all the tense restraint he’s willing. So very close, but he refuses to finish before you.
So Abbot does what he does best. He works with his hands.
The squelching sounds from where your hips meet is obscene, and it allows enough moisture for Jack to easily circle his thumb around your clit in a grueling pattern. You’re a goner in less than 30 seconds. You tense and scream his name despite your heavy brething, then you go limp, dazed as Jack fucks you through your orgasm to reach his own.
You know he’s close when his strong thrusts start to falter, so you use what little strength you have left to lock your legs around his hips and scratch your nails down his back, just the way he likes.
Abbot finishes with a series of loud groans and your name on his lips. He collapses on top of you, absolutely spent, but still has the sense to prop himself up on elbow to prevent his full weight from crushing you.
Your labored breathing syncs as you both come down from your respective highs. Jack’s grin meets your smile and you pull him down by the back of his neck to meet your lips in another kiss. You taste yourself on his swollen lips and you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. Before Jack, all your lovers had been a little too vanilla for your taste. Now? Sometimes you had trouble keeping up with the vet.
You blew Keelan off for the third day in a row. You probably would’ve felt bad about it if Jack wasn’t making you feel so. fucking. good.
Keelan really was a sweet guy. He was understanding of your irregular work schedule and even more irregular sleep schedule. When you missed his calls or responded late to his texts, he just assumed it was because you were busy with either of those things.
He was so sweet. He just wasn’t the guy for you.
Abbot was making up for lost time. You hadn’t left his apartment in two days and you hadn’t worn any clothing for a substantial length of time in that same period. You’d long since lost count of the amount of times Jack made you come—on his cock, his mouth, his hands, his thighs, his arms—and he wasn’t showing signs of stopping anytime soon.
You and Jack were taking a break in the kitchen. The attending made sure you stayed hydrated. Your sweat mixed with his and seeped into the bed sheets you found yourselves tangled in. Doctor Abbot was a responsible medical professional, so it was paramount to him that no one under his care get dehydrated or prematurely worn out. When he fills your water glass right back up the second you finish drinking, you don’t protest.
Abbot has a lengthy record of ribbing on you when you’re fucked out after a marathon session. If you tire out before he does, teasing quips mixed with condescending remarks that make your thighs squeeze together drip right off his tongue and into the shell of your ear.
“It’s not normal for someone your age to have this much stamina and libido,” you teased Jack over a year ago, gently stroking him while lazily resting on his chest.
“Someone my age?” Jack scoffed. It was a long night for you after that comment.
The cool granite countertop you’re perched on makes you shiver, even through Jack’s boxers that were doubling as sleep shorts for you. He protested you putting his clothes on in the first place, arguing that he was just going to take them off anyway. You argued that you didn’t want his cum dripped all over the same countertops your precious lasagna was prepared on.
“Touché.” Abbot blushed at the thought of his spend leaking out of you.
Jack holds your hand and places his other on the small of your back to support you when you scoot off the counter and make your way across the kitchen. You dig through Jack’s freezer like it’s your own until you find a pint of rocky road ice cream.
“Oh, yes sir,” you say to yourself, licking your lips as you search for a spoon. The phrase has Jack half hard. His endurance truly defies biology.
It’s after 11 p.m. the next time Keelan calls. He didn’t strike you as a booty call kinda guy, but there’s a first for everything.
You’re about to send the call to voicemail when Jack intercepts you, his rough hand closing around your wrist.
“Let me,” Jack offers with a devious grin. He doesn’t wait for you to agree or disagree, but he holds your wary gaze as he answers the call on speaker phone.
“Hey, YN, it’s-” Keelan greets. He sounds kind, and you start to feel bad for him until your mind drifts elsewhere when you feel Jack’s cum trailing down your thigh.
“Kevin, right?” Jack responds with a smile that’s far from innocent. He remembers the guy’s name; it’s been seared into his head since he saw it on your phone at the café.
One of the unnerving things about your attending is that he never breaks eye contact, even when you desperately need him to. Especially when becoming putty in his hands wouldn’t serve the Pitt crew very well in the middle of a trauma case.
“Uh, no, it’s-” Jack cuts him off again. You roll your eyes at his antics and struggle to stifle a giggle at Keelan’s stunned response.
“Anyways, kid, I’m her boyfriend. You can go ahead and delete this number, because we’ll be blocking yours.” Abbot finishes in his signature gruff tone and hangs up before the poor guy has a second to process what just happened.
Your jaw drops. Boyfriend. Doctor Jack Abbot called himself your boyfriend.
Somehow, Abbot is getting off on this. He’s awfully possessive, and you don’t hate it.
“That was a little mean, Jack.” You almost sound like you’re whining. Jack plans to nip that in the bud. Toward the end of your R2 year, when you and Abbot had been hooking up for a few months, he discovered you were into spanking after you directly defied an order he gave you at the Pitt. Tonight, he might use that tidbit of information to his advantage.
“I don’t appreciate him thinking he can have any piece of my girl, especially not at this hour.” Abbot eyes the oven’s clock. It’s nearing midnight. He downs the rest of his water in one gulp and stalks toward you.
“Your girl?” You question and look up at him as he looms closer.
“Yeah. Mine.” Abbot growls. There’s no room for argument in his tone.
Jack is driving into you fast and rough at an unforgiving pace, just how you like it. It’s a good thing Abbot’s apartment is on the end of his building, otherwise the headboard slamming against a shared wall certainly would’ve earned him some noise complaints from the neighbors if your screaming and moaning hadn’t already.
Abbot’s mattress shakes beneath your back. He’s hovering over you with one hand planted firmly near your head to support his weight. His free hand roughly grazes over your form, finding purchase and grabbing at your exposed skin. Tonight, like most nights, he’s a boob man and he focuses his attention on your breasts that shudder with every thrust.
Jack’s dog tags swing from his neck just above you. They’ve come close to hitting your face a few times, so you take matters into your own hands, well, mouth, and bite the chain, sealing your lips around the metal. Jack’s large pupils blow out even wider as you stare into him, sucking the tags with the same fervor you suck him off with.
He’s so focused on making sure you finish before he does, especially now that his cock throbs even more inside your warmth at the sight of his dog tags in your mouth, that he doesn’t notice your legs hooking around his body.
You flip both of your bodies so fast, with Abbot on his back and you riding him, that he double takes at the new angle. He’s gazing up at your breasts instead of kneading them in his calloused grip just moments ago. You’re careful not to let him slip out when you flip. It’s a skill you acquired after several nights in Jack’s bed and it stuns him every time.
Abbot is appreciative of the new depth and view, but his dopey grin drops when you begin moving at a slow, shallow pace.
You want to make him work for it after the fucking stunt he pulled. You forgave him for ending things with a catastrophic lack of communication about 15 orgasms ago, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to have fun with this.
Every thick inch of Jack inside of you feels amazing, but the look on his face is even more gratifying.
His hands move to grip your hips, urging you to move fast, but you slap them away and lean forward, your own hands loosely wrapping around your attending’s neck. You feel his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows beneath your gentle fingers. His quiet groan makes you grin like the Cheshire cat.
Abbot edged you for close to 45 minutes earlier that night until he was satisfied with how many times you screamed his name, making you promise that you are his and he is yours until your throat was raw.
Now, it’s your turn.
“Baby, I need you to, hmmph-” Jack pauses with a particularly deep and slow roll of your hips, “move faster.” His voice is strained and sweat beads on his forehead.
You tut at him with a few clicks of your tongue. He bucks upward into the slow ride of your hips, but he’s quickly met with your fingers constricting around his throat—not too tight, but tight enough to make him comply and hang onto every sweet word that drips from your lips.
“Not this time, Doctor Abbot.” He moans when you use his professional title while he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. You lean down to whisper in his ear, your pert nipples making contact with his heaving chest. “I’m in control.”
One hand stays on his neck and the other moves to pin Abbot’s wrists above his head.
It’s performative, really. Your fingers can’t touch when you grasp just one of his thick wrists; there’s no way you’d be able to force his arms down if he tried to resist you, but that makes it all the more erotic.
Abbot doesn’t shy away or protest when your dominant side comes out to play. He’s willing to let you think, at least temporarily, that you can overpower him. In the back of his mind, Jack knows without a doubt that he could have you flipped back over with your knees pressed up to your chest and your ankles dangling over his broad shoulders before you could blink.
Both of your orgasms ripple through your bodies like a live wire. It takes considerably longer than normal to come back to your senses. You see only stars for a while and hear nothing but your pulse bounding. Touch is your last sense to come back. You feel an ache in your hips that hurts so good, then you feel Jack’s warm, sticky abdomen underneath your arm that’s splayed across his body. The attending must have carefully pulled you off his softening member and tucked you into his side—not that you would remember. You’re 99% sure you blacked out after your last orgasm.
Abbot’s heart nearly stopped when you were unresponsive. He drifted back down to Earth, expecting to meet your eyes, but instead found you slumped against his chest, drool dripping down onto his freckled pec. He checked your pulse and rolled you off him to rub your sternum, which you did not like, based on the way your face scrunched up and you groaned.
Once he was sure you were okay. He smirked, incredibly pleased with your joint efforts. Fucked out was an understatement.
Sleep even claimed you for a few minutes. It was Jack’s rumbling chuckle as he continuously checked on you that roused you. Blinking helped reorient you. The sheet covering you and Jack was wet. Did you fucking squirt?
Your heavy eyes eventually traced their way up Abbot’s solid body to meet his eyes. He was already looking at you and had been for a while. Despite being about as close to him as possible without crawling into his skin, you still felt needy. You wordlessly puckered your lips and the attending, your boyfriend happily obliged, though it took him a moment to coordinate his muscles to deliver a loving kiss.
“So… what now?” You’re cuddled into Jack’s side, your palm resting on his chest right above his heart. His rough hand is featherlight on your skin as he trails his fingers up and down your bare arm. Your blinking becomes slow and heavy; your body is exhausted from over 48 straight hours of on and off fucking.
Abbot stares up at the ceiling and sighs, not in annoyance, but with determination.
“I already lost you once. I’m not gonna make that mistake again,” he promises resolutely. He swears he’ll spend the rest of the time you give him the privilege of being in your life making up for the heartache he caused you both.
You nod and smile tiredly, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his chest.
“But what about work?” You bite your lip, nervously awaiting his answer. The attending drags his free palm down his face. He’s thought about this a million times since you walked out his door months ago.
“I still want to protect your reputation.” He says it like it’s an indisputable fact. Jack feels a frown form on your lips and he turns to his side to face you. He pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger until you meet his eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or this. I never have been and I never will be.”
“But, I think it’s best if we keep this on the down-low until you’ve signed the offer letter for the junior attending position.” He’s not happy about hiding your relationship, but he knows it’s what’s best for your career.
“I haven’t even interviewed for it yet, baby.” You had dreamed of the job since your intern year. It was so close you could taste it, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.
“Robby already picked you. He decided months ago, before the applications even opened up. Interviewing the other candidates is just a formality. Ball’s in your court,” Abbot says casually. He thinks it might not have been his news to share with the way you tense under his arm.
“Don’t mess with me, Jack. That’s not funny,” you frown, feeling small. You’ve been working toward this for years.
“I’m serious!” Jack emphasizes with a smile. He’s so proud of his girl. You earned this, more than any resident who came before you. “He asked for my input and I gave him an honest review of your job performance, but I’m pretty sure he told Gloria he was picking you before he even talked to me,” he admits.
Residency was grueling, but it was also the best thing you’d ever done in your life. Your intern year you were thrown to the wolves on day shift at PTMC’s level 1 trauma center ED. A spot opened up on night shift at the beginning of your R2 year and you gladly switched, though you were grateful to have learned from Robby for several months.
“You must’ve really left a good impression on him as an intern,” Abbot muses.
Doctor Robby and Doctor Abbot stay out of the hospital gossip and drama; they have too much other shit to worry about. But, sometimes when they’re metaphorically or literally talking one another down from the ledge, they discuss the students and residents and learning opportunities. Robby spoke highly of you from day one.
Tears well up in your eyes and you can’t stop them from falling. Jack startles at your sudden shift in emotion.
“Oh baby, shit, don’t cry,” Jack pleads and panics when you cover your face with your hands. Your shoulders start to shake and Jack sits up, scrambling to find tissues to wipe your tears.
“Baby, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry,” he rushes out. When he carefully pulls your hands away from your face, he’s met with a hesitant smile.
“You’re not joking? You’re serious?” Your voice is shaky and you sniffle through the still flowing tears.
“Serious as a heart attack.”
“Holy shit!” Excited is an understatement. The fatigue that had settled in your bones vanished in an instant. For the second time tonight, you flip Abbot on his back and start attacking with kisses all over his face.
“You’re not upset?” Jack is experiencing some emotional whiplash and his voice is muffled by your movements over him.
“Upset? Baby, how could I be upset?! I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” You pause kissing him just long enough to respond before diving back in, claiming his lips this time in a feverish kiss.
When you reach down to slot Jack inside of you, you move slowly together. You’re not fucking. It’s slow, sensual, and passionate. It’s love.
The steady lub-dub of Jack’s heart beats in your ear afterwards. Your weight on top of Jack’s weathered form, aged like fine wine, is comforting. The attending understands the appeal of weighted blankets now, but he’ll always prefer you.
“We should celebrate,” he murmurs quietly.
The rest of the city is waking up. Light from the early sunrise peeks past the open black-out curtains. Abbot knows he’ll need to get up and pull them closed before he falls asleep, but for now he revels in the feel of you back in his arms—where you belong.
“You should wine and dine me, Doctor Abbot,” you hum and mutter against his freckled skin.
Jack smiles and agrees. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head before you both drift into peaceful sleep together.