Work Text:
The first time Jack ever saw you crying, you had been dating for 2 months. You were pretty proud of your self-control. You had worked hard to hold yourself together with him over the last few months. You were a very emotional person, and it really didn’t take much at all to tip you over the edge. A commercial, movie, TV show - happy or sad, it really didn’t matter. A broken appliance, a spilled drink, a bad day. You name it, you’ve cried over it.
It was a particularly ridiculous thing that you had been crying over that night. It was one of the first nights you were staying over at his place. You had let yourself in a little before his shift ended (at his encouragement, he wanted to walk through the door and see you staring up at him) and put through an order for takeout. You were still shitting these nights, you didn’t know what he would consider rude or not. You erred on the side of caution, taking off your shoes at the door and neatly hanging up your coat.
You had gone over to his beautifully stocked kitchen - attending’s salary must be crazy - and poured yourself a glass of water to calm your nerves. You glanced at the clock and saw the hand staring back at you. 7:15PM. He’d be here soon enough. Your hands shook lightly with anticipation and you instinctively went to flex them to self-soothe, forgetting your grip on the glass.
It smashed into pieces on the floor.
Your stomach dropped and your throat felt like it closed up completely. Your eyes burned immediately, scanning the pool of water and shiny glass shards littering the floor. You knew what to do, you weren’t an invalid. Pick up the big shards, put down paper towels for the water and hoover the smaller shards. You knew what to do. Yet, you were frozen. Your hands made their way to your face, covering your mouth against your will, like your body was trying to hold you together. You felt the tears start dripping down your face and your knees went shaky and weak. You slowly crouched down.
You felt so stupid, something so easily remedied shouldn’t cause you this much distress.
The door clicked, and you heard Jack’s typically heavy gait coming closer.
“Honey?” How could you answer? He was going to see what a fucking mess you were. How useless. How pathetic.
The floor is actual wood too, you thought. Not the plastic-y lino shit. Oh my God, you had waterlogged the floor and it was going to go mouldy. It would spread to the other rooms before he’d be able to fix it. He was going to have to refloor the entire house.
He stopped when he saw the situation and for just a minute, he said nothing. He evaluated the spread before doing anything. You looked up at him. He thought you looked petrified.
Still in his work shoes, he crossed the threshold to where you were crouched before joining you. His hands found your arms, stroking them gently with his thumb.
“What happened, baby?” He murmured, all soft and gravelly. If you weren’t freaking out, you would think it was so handsome. You couldn’t answer, hands still covering your mouth. A gasp was all that came out. His hands moved up to your wrists.
“Take a deep breath, honey. You’re good, everything is fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t look okay.” He continued, gently tugging your hand down. He placed one on his chest, over his heart. He took exaggerated breaths in and out, getting you to copy without telling you what to do.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, finding your voice. He hushed you, telling you to follow his breathing for a few more minutes.
His hands dropped yours after a while, they took up residence on your cheeks instead. His eyes were clouded and worried.
“I dropped your glass.” You frown, lip quivering. Your tears had only just stopped flowing. His thumbs rub at the irritated circles under your eyes.
“I see that.” He replied, gently. He paused, waiting for more context, before realising there isn’t any. His heart broke a little seeing the wild look in your eyes.
“Are you hurt?” You sniffled, shaking your head. He helped you stand, keeping his arms supporting yours. You reached behind for the paper towels, only for them to be gently plucked from your hands. His brows furrowed.
“I’m not worried about a little water right now.” Effortlessly picking you up, you were carried to the plush couch. The scrub material felt so static-y and you were distantly reminded of how much Jack loved and needed his after-work showers. The guilt settled in your stomach once more. He set you down on the couch and once he sat himself, you were tugged onto his lap.
“Can I see your hands, precious?” He crooned, taking one in his own. At your affirmative, he inspected one after the other, stopping on each side to press a long kiss on them. He examined your feet also, pressing a kiss on each ankle. Once he had seen you were certainly not in any pain, he looked at your face. His lips pursed in that way people do when they aren’t sure what to say, and his head tilted.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry.” You mutter, nearly inaudible.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. You had a moment, and a lot of feelings about it.” His hands squeezed your cheeks.
“I try to be less mental, I swear.”
“You’re- I hope you don’t try to hide from me. You looked terrified, my love. I don’t want you feeling like you have to be less yourself around me.” Nobody had ever looked at him like that. Not even in the Middle East. He hoped no one ever would again.
“I wanted to clean it. I didn’t want you to be upset.” Your hand rattled once more. Jack grabbed them, and pressed kiss after kiss after kiss on them.
“Why would I ever be upset over a little glass?”
“I ruined your floor.”
“Baby.” He laughed. “If a drop of water was gonna ruin my floor, this house would have rotted a long time ago.”
“You’re gonna sit here, close your eyes and take some nice deep breaths for me. Can you do that for me, darling girl?” You nodded, feeling him slip off the couch.
You did as you were asked, listening to the sounds of him cleaning the mess. He plopped back down beside you afterward.
“The water’s gone. The glass is cleaned. The floor is perfect.” He held your gaze, lowering his head with yours when you tried to duck him.
“Mhm-mhm. Thank you.” You said, hesitantly.
“Can you repeat what I told you?”
“The water’s gone. The glass is cleaned. The floor is perfect.” You whispered.
“Good girl, one more time.”
“The water’s gone. The glass is cleaned. The floor is perfect.” You repeated, a little stronger this time.
“That’s exactly right. Everything is just fine.” His thumb glided up and down a spot on your leg.
“Anything else you wanna tell me?” He murmured, voice a bare rumble.
“Food should be here soon?” You offered lamely in return. He laughed softly.
In the morning, you two will talk about what happened tonight. He will ask why you were so frightened of him. He will ask about the pills you take every morning and you will answer. Tomorrow, you will feel safe with someone like you never have before. Nothing and everything will change all at once, but that will be tomorrow’s discussion.
At this moment, Jack Abbot will hold his lover and neither of them will say anything else.