SHOW ME THAT COCK
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SHOW ME THAT COCK
If thereâs people wondering what this is from, itâs from CDawgVAâs Cyclethon 5 days 2 & 3.
Full VODâs also on the CdawgVODs channel

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lEEONNN
Round of applause for Leon's ass in Requiem because wow... wow. That's America's ass.
@dragon-kazansky look at dat ass
Warning - phishing scam is now in the top gun/mission impossible fandoms
If you get a message from a mutual saying that they accidentally reported your account as spam and telling you to contact tumblr staff on discord THEY HAVE BEEN HACKED!!!!
This is a scam that has been happening for weeks but has now taken at least one of my mission impossible and top gun mutuals, and I am not sure how many people have been affected.
Tumblr has even warned us about this. Tumblr has said to contact them on this site or via email. They have said they will NEVER ask you to contact them on discord.
Please please reblog so others in the fandom know!!!
the birds & the bees -- Superman x Fem!Reader (Kinktober 2025)
I don't care that it's November now it's still Kinktober to me!!! (this is what I get for trying to do a million things during one month but we carry on)
Summary: Clark Kent leaves work abruptly to cover a breaking Superman story, but he practically goes missing right after. You, being the caring friend and coworker that you are, decide to go to his apartment to see if he's okay. And he is, he's just...a little under the weather, and he really needs your help.
Warnings: 18+ only mdni!!!, baby's first sex pollen fic (i think?), needy + sort of subby!clark, blink n you miss it handjob, he gets a lil rough, pussy pronouns, unprotected sex, oral/facefucking (f + m rec), voyeurism if u squint, lots of manhandling, size kink ofc, clark cums...a lot, dirty dirty talk, pollen lowkey affects reader too, lots of petnames ('honey' 'sweetheart' 'baby'), he begs a lot whoops, improper use of his x-ray vision (naughty clark!!), he's still just a giant sweetie even w the pollen <33
WC: 7.7k (this ran the fuck away from me ok)
Itâs Saturday, and youâre standing in front of the door to your coworkerâs apartment. Uninvited, you might add.
This has to be a new low for you.
The truth is something a little more like this: Itâs Saturday, and youâre standing outside your best-friend-slash-coworker-who-has-a-(mutual)-crush-on-you-slash-the-most-handsome-man-in-Metropolisâs door because you havenât heard from him since Thursday night.
Youâve called, youâve texted, youâve sent emails, youâve left who knows how many voicemails. Nothing. Radio silence.
Jimmy has tried, Lois has tried, Cat has tried -- hell, even Perry tried, because when Clark didnât show up for work by lunch time yesterday, Perry was even getting worried. Itâs normal for Clark to be a little late from time to time. You think his problem is that heâs just too nice and heâll talk to anyone, and he gets caught up with anything. Youâve witnessed it in real time.Â
But not showing at all? Thatâs unheard of. He hardly ever has sick days, now that you think about it, so if he is sick, it must be lethal, and you have to at least make sure heâs okay.
At least, thatâs what youâre telling yourself to justify the fact that youâre showing up, uninvited, and debating letting yourself inside with the spare key under the plant in the corner (Clark is so predictable).
You try knocking again. âClark?â you call out. âAre you in there?â
Itâs just so unlike him, to not show at all, especially after such a big day for Superman on Thursday afternoon. Clark rushed out of the office to go see the action and to get his front-page interview like he always does, and you all were certain it would be plastered on Fridayâs paper. But it wasnât.
Instead, it was some piece Jimmy was working on -- congrats, Jimmy, really, but still -- and Superman saving the city from a creature no one has ever seen before was tucked away inside, and barely a full column. It was a quick write up, the quickest youâve ever seen Lois do, and it works, but itâs not what everyone was expecting. Steve ended up fielding phone calls about why Clark Kent didnât interview Superman and why he didnât get an exclusive like always.Â
Needless to say, yesterday was hectic at the Daily Planet, and you worried yourself sick over Clarkâs whereabouts, so much so that youâre now staring down his front door before noon on a Saturday.
God. You shake your head at yourself. Heâs probably-- Maybe there was a family emergency? Your heart clenches at the idea of anything happening to Ma or Pa Kent, butâŠitâs a real possibility. Maybe he just hasnât been able to look at his phone because of it.
Itâs one of the worst case scenarios, but it feels like thatâs all youâre working with considering you havenât seen or heard from him in almost forty-eight hours.
Your foot taps impatiently on the floor. The tote bag full of cold remedies and just general things to cheer up a sad Clark Kent weighs heavily on your shoulder. You had thought youâd find him here, maybe sick with an awful flu, or--
You hear movement. Your foot immediately stops its tapping, your breathing halts, you think your heart might even stop beating. You lean a little closer to the door.Â
Definitely movement. Someone is inside.
âClark?â you call out again. âItâs me,â you try instead. âI havenât heard from you, I-I got worried.â You pause, listening for the same shuffling. âI wanted to see if you were okay.â
The only response you get is a low groan. Groaning that you arenât even sure is Clark, but itâs something, and it doesnât sound good.
âCan I come in?â you ask. Youâll think later on how to apologize for coming over unannounced and for presumptively looking for the spare key and for letting yourself in. Right now you just need to see if heâs okay.
You hear more groaning, followed by the sound of something crashing -- you have no idea what -- and you decide thatâs it.
You tip the plant and swipe the key, inserting it and twisting the knob all in one swoop. âIâm really sorry,â you say as you push the door open. âIâm so sorry, but it sounded like-- I just had to check--â
All words promptly die on your lips when you see the state of Clarkâs apartment.
Youâve been here once. Only once. You were caught in a bad storm after drinks with Clark, Jimmy, and Lois, and Clarkâs apartment was closer, so he offered you dry clothes and a warm shower while the storm waned. That night, every lamp was on, he had hot cocoa ready for you as soon as you got out of the shower, and the two of you talked and laughed while the rain beat the windows.
Today, the sun is out, but it looks stormy in Clarkâs apartment. Not a single light is on, the couch is askew, the coffee table overturned.Â
And Clark.
His back is pressed to the far window, hands splayed like heâs pinning himself to the glass with all his strength. Heâs in a t-shirt and boxers that are tented, and that would normally be enough for you to avert your eyes, except he looks ill. Heâs practically ashen, and heâs sweating so much that his shirt is sticking to his skin, to every muscle. His hair is curled to hell, bordering on messy in a way that is worrisome, like heâs been gripping and tugging at it and trying to rip it out.
âClark?â you ask, shutting the door behind you. You place the spare key down on the little table by the door. âAre you⊠Whatâs going on?â
His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he wonât look at you. He mumbles something, but you canât hear him.
âClark, pleaseâŠâ you pause, swallowing. You set your bag down by the door, walking closer to him, approaching him like heâs a skittish animal that might run away from you at any second. âTalk to me.â
âStop,â he bites out. âPlease.â
You stop moving, holding your hands up in surrender. What the hell is going on? His legs are shaking, he looks like he hasnât eaten since Thursdayâs lunch, and he still wonât lift his head.
âYou should--â he pauses, sucks in a harsh, sharp breath. âYou should leave.â
You scoff, not unkindly, just, confused and stressed and what has gotten into him? âClark, Iâm not leaving. We need to get you to a doct--â
âNo!â he shouts, immediately shaking his head. âNo, no, IâmâŠfine, I donât need a doctor.â
âYou are not fine,â you argue gently. âYou look like you can barely hold yourself up. Are you sick with something?â
âNo,â he whines, then adds, âyes, kind of.â One hand leaves the glass to press to his temple with a grimace.
âIs it a migraine?â you ask, wondering if maybe thatâs why itâs so dark in here. But that doesnât explain the fact that it looks like a tornado took off in here, too. âDonât you get those if you donât wear your glasses?â Heâs not wearing them right now, which youâve only just now noticed. âWhere are they?â
You look around and spot them on the kitchen counter, as if they were ripped off and thrown down. Your eyebrows furrow.
âClark,â you turn back to him. âPlease tell me whatâs going on. I want to help. Youâve had everyone worried sick, and we damn near called a wellness check for you, but I figured, let me just come knock on his door first-- But I canât help if you wonât even let me near you.â
He whimpers this time, high in his throat, almost like heâs going to cry. âPlease.â
âPlease, what?â you cry. âWhat can I do? Let me help.â You take tentative steps toward him, hoping he doesnât notice.
âI-I canât,â he shudders. âI donât want to hurt you--â
âHurt me?â You keep walking slowly. âWhy would you hurt me?â Your mind is running wild with all kinds of possibilities right now, one namely being, is Clark on drugs or something?
âIt-itâs not something I can control,â he says.
âWhat is?â you ask, taking more steps. Youâre just past the coffee table now. Youâll be able to reach out to him any second.
âItâs--â he cuts himself off with another wince. âPlease, you need to stay back, I--â
âIâm sorry, but Iâm not going to just stand over there and watch you like this,â you say sternly, taking more intentional steps now. You reach him quickly, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead. âYouâre burning up!â
He sighs when you touch him, knees buckling. âI-I know. H-Hurts.â
âClark,â you whisper, placing your hands on his shoulders. âWhat happened to you? Did you get hurt when you went to interview Superman? Did you get caught in the fight or something?â
He chuckles, but itâs not his usual sound. âOr something,â he murmurs sheepishly, finally tipping his head back to look up at you and--
Your eyes go wide. The world sways. Suddenly you feel like youâre the one who is sick.Â
âC-Clark?â you stutter in disbelief. âSuperman?â
He groans again, head lolling forward. âThis is not how I wanted to tell you.â
You come back to yourself and remember heâs violently ill and you shake your head. Now is not the time to be starstruck. âHey, no, no, itâs okay, itâs fine! So youâre Superman? Itâs okay!â You know you sound ridiculous. âDo you-- Donât you have healing-- Doesnât the sun help you or something? Why are you still like this?â
âThe sun canât help this, itâs-- This is different. The Superman robots tried to help, but--â
You nod along, noting things to ask him about later, like Superman robots because what does that even mean? Who are they?
âOkay,â you say, like youâve got it all figured out after what heâs told you. Like you have a plan. âOkay.â You donât know what to do. âSo we-- Did they-- Do theâŠrobots know what it is thatâs making you feel like this?â
He nods slowly, tipping his head back again to look at you, his blue eyes not at all tired like you expect them to be. Theyâre practically molten. âThey have an idea.â
âOkay,â you lick your lips. You should not be thinking about how attractive he is up close like this when heâs practically on his death bed. âWhat is it?â
He opens his mouth like heâs going to spill it all out right then, but he snaps his jaw closed. âNo, I-- I canât tell you.â
You nearly scream out of sheer frustration. âWhat do you mean?â you try to have a gentle tone, but youâre not sure you succeed.
âItâs--â he hisses in pain again (you think?), hanging his head. âItâs complicated.â
âI donât think anything can be more complicated than the fact that I just found out youâre Superman when youâre like this.â
He chuckles again, the sound growing warmer this time. âItâs-- Can you promise me something first?â
âYeah, Clark,â your face softens. âAnything.â
He groans at that. âNoâŠno, I mean it, I mean, if I tell you what this is, and youâre scared, or you-- You just donât want to be around me, you have to tell me.â
Your eyes widen. âClark--â
âI mean it, please,â he begs. âBecause if you say you donât want this, I promise, I will-- Iâll go and bury myself in the ice and Iâll wait it out and I wonât hurt you.â
âClark, youâre not gonna hurt me.â
âI might,â he chokes out. âI could. Iâve-- Itâs been two days of this, I donât know my own strength, I might--â
âClark, stop, stop,â you cut him off, both your hands cupping his face, forcing him to look at you. âPlease, just tell me whatâs going on so I can help.â
âIâm-- I think the creature on Thursday was released by Lex Luthor as a distraction.â
He stops, so you press gently, holding his face as you whisper, âDistraction for what?â
âWhen I was flying home after it -- back to the Fortress -- as I was leaving Metropolis I flew through a cloud but it wasnât a cloud, it was-- I think Lex manufactured it because he knew Iâd fly through it and he knew it would do this to me.â
You still donât know what this is, other than the fact that he looks three steps from the grave.
âItâsâŠmy body is--â He pauses again. âThis is embarrassing.â
âClarkâŠâ you sigh, pulling him into your arms despite everything. Heâs much taller than you, yet right now he feels so small. His face finds your neck and he inhales deeply, holding his breath. âYou can tell me.â
âIt was a pollen cloud,â he murmurs into your skin, nosing your carotid artery. âAnd the pollen sets my hormones on fire.â
You rub circles onto his back. âSo youâreâŠ?â
âSo turned on that I might die,â he whines, still mortified from having to admit this out loud. His hips move on their own accord, and you feel him grinding against your leg before he promptly stops himself. âS-Sorry.â
Your brain is spinning circles in your skull as you try to figure out exactly what he means. What this means.
âWill you actually die?â you ask instead of the other thousands of thoughts running through your head. You scratch his scalp gently, hoping this is somewhat helping, having your arms around him and his around your waist.
His breaths are shallower now, like heâs either afraid to inhale too much of you, or like he canât get enough. âI donât know. Probably not. I think I just have to wait it out.â
âBut,â you lift your head and he does the same, âis there anything that will help?â
âI canât ask that of you,â he says immediately, his throat working around a swallow. âI-Itâs why I havenât answered your calls-- Iâm sorry that I havenât, I just-- I flew all the way to the Fortress of Solitude and when the robots told me I needed to-- told me what would help, I flew to Ma and Paâs, and then didnât even go in and see them, I just came straight back here because you were--â He pauses, shutting his eyes, twisting them shut, his head thudding as it hits the window. âYou were too far, I couldnât hear you from there and I⊠I needed to hear you.â
âHear me?â you gasp. âClark, I donât even live close to you, I--â
âI know!â he cries. âI know, but I swear I could hear you, or-- or maybe I really couldnât, but I couldnât stand being so far away from you, I had to be in the same city. And then I heard you when you got inside the building, and your heart was so loud outside my door, and gosh, you-- You smell like Heaven, sweetheart.â
Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, banging around against your ribcage. Sweetheart.
âClark,â you begin, waiting for him to open his eyes, but he doesnât. For the second time today, you decide, fuck it. You cup his jaw with one hand, not forceful, but not entirely gentle either. You know heâs embarrassed, but enough is enough. âLook at me.â
Clarkâs eyes open instantly, glassy and red and full of fire. âYes maâam?â
âIf what Iâm gathering from this is correct, thenâŠI want to help.â
âYou do?â
You nod, thumb stroking his cheek. âDo you want me to?â
âOf course I want you to,â he whines, head threatening to tip back again. His smile is lazy, crooked, and so Clark. âI just-- I wanted to ask you out on a date first.â
You chuckle quietly. So your suspicions about your crush being requited werenât all in your head, it seems. âWe can go on a date once you feel better, okay?â
He nods. âOkay,â he murmurs, swallowing again, like his mouth is making far too much saliva. âOkay. Can we-- Can we go to that place on--â
You donât know what else to do, so you kiss him. Heâs embarrassed, heâs rambling, and heâs gotten so worked up in his head that heâs fighting it -- keeping you from helping him.
Itâs a syrupy-sweet first kiss. You try to put every ounce of your nearly year-long crush into it, hoping he can feel all of it. Youâd do anything for him, youâve always felt that way, and youâve shown it before too. Just in more normal, friendly ways than this. Than agreeing to have sex with Clark so he will feel better.
It sounds absurd, even just in your head, and if you think too much about it, you wonât be able to do anything because of how hard your mind will be reeling. Just this morning, just two hours ago, you thought Clark was sick with maybe the flu or had a family emergency or something else normal, and now. Now you know heâs Superman, now youâve agreed to help him through whatever pollen-induced horny sickness this is, now youâre finally kissing Clark Kent.
He whimpers into your mouth, fingers wrapping around your wrist to tug your hand down to where he needs you.
âS-Sorry,â he cries, grinding into your palm.
You shush him, applying the pressure he needs. âThat better?â
He nods furiously, lips mashing against yours as he chases the feeling of your hand on him, and you havenât even really touched him. When you finally snake your hand under his waistband, his head falls into your neck, shoulders slumping.
His skin feels hot all over, but somehow even hotter here when you wrap your fingers around him, gently stroking. He kisses your neck, then licks, your eyes rolling from the feeling of him clinging to you, completely at your mercy.
Soon heâs rocking his hips into your hand, then wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body to his like he wants to meld you together. You thumb over his slit once, twice, and without warning, heâs shaking in your hold, spilling into his boxers.
He goes still against you, chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Your free hand strokes his curls where he has his head buried in your neck, wondering if that was enough, or if it was too much.
âClark?â you whisper. His skin doesnât feel any cooler, but maybe it takes time.
The only warning you get -- though you donât realize itâs a warning at all -- is a low groan, deep in his chest before heâs spun you around, pressing your back into the glass.Â
When he kisses you this time, the sweetness from earlier is gone, replaced with a desperate, ravenous hunger. Heâs still as hard as he was before when he fits his body against yours, hips grinding into you.
âClark--â you try to get out in between kisses, but heâs ravenous now. Gone is the hesitant, shaking Clark from before. âMmph-- Clark. Clark.â
He finally pulls back, a string of saliva connecting your lips that he licks away. âSorry,â he whispers, but he doesnât sound sorry at all, and doesnât look it either, the way heâs not looking at your eyes at all but instead at your lips. âWhat did you--â He pauses again, out of breath. âWhat were you saying?â
It makes you giggle, seeing him like this, but thereâs heat pooling in your lower belly, too. âNo, I just-- That was a change.â
âOh,â he grins, and itâs a bit wolfish, making your thighs clench. âI told you, Iâm a little--â
âI know.â
âIs that okay?â
âYeah,â you reply, breathless, pushing your hips out to grind into him. âYeah, itâs great.â
âOh, sweetheart,â he groans, hands squeezing your hips as he dives for another kiss, tongue immediately coaxing your mouth open. âThank you. Thank you for letting me have you.â
âYou have me,â you whisper. âDo whatever you need to-- Ah!â
His hands immediately split the seam of your shirt, exposing your breasts. He finds the clip to your bra and suddenly heâs thumbing over your nipples, massaging them, pinching them lightly, watching you squirm.
You grip his shirt, knowing you wonât be able to rip it, but after a few tugs, he gets the idea and does it for you, letting you shove it off his arms and to the floor with yours. His boxers go next, his previous release still sticky inside them, and then heâs dragging your pants down your legs, kneeling as he goes.
Youâve never been so grateful for him to have an apartment on one of the top floors as you are now, when he has you bare and pressed to the window.
âLook at how prettyâŠâ he muses, kissing your inner thigh as he spreads your legs to accommodate his wide frame. He shoulders between them, then lifts one of your legs to rest over his body. âAlready so wet for me,â he whispers, like heâs talking to your pussy, not you. âGotta get her ready for me, though.â He looks up at you, so sweet despite the filth heâs speaking and how close he is to your clit. âDonât wanna hurt you.â
You pet his head, smiling as you stroke his curls. âYou wonât hurt me, Clark.â Even though heâs not in his right mind, you donât think heâd ever be able to hurt you.
He leans his cheek against your thigh, just gazing so lovingly at your core. âI wonât,â he promises with a little sigh. âSâtoo pretty.â
You think you might have to physically guide him to where you need him, but then heâs finally leaning forward, pressing a tender kiss to your clit that makes you jump.
He grins again, wide and hungry. âSensitive?â
âA little,â you admit. Because you wonât stop teasing me.
âIâll be gentle,â he swears, and then proceeds to be anything but.
He wraps his lips around your clit, tonguing the hood back ever so slightly to focus directly on your most sensitive spot. Your hips buck involuntarily into his mouth and he moves closer, setting in.
His tongue darts lower, separating your folds, teasing your hole. You donât think youâve ever cum from someone eating you out without using their fingers too, but Clark just might get you there. And he seems determined too.
With his nose providing friction to your clit, his tongue presses into you, and he hums. A deep, guttural noise before he somehow moves closer, like he doesnât even want to breathe while heâs going down on you.Â
Youâre gripping his curls like your life depends on it, because it sort of does, and you try to warn him before you cum, but he doesnât slow down or make any indication that he hears you. He just dives deeper, licks faster, and starts mumbling nonsense into your pussy.
âI know youâre close,â he almost whines, like heâs desperate to feel it, to taste it. âPlease, baby, please let me have it.â
Your head hits the window with a dull, quiet thud, your chest heaving. âClark,â you gasp, and somehow he knows what you mean, what youâre trying to say in that one word because then he goes back to sucking on your clit, tongue flicking rapidly.
âCome on,â he says, somehow speaking while still fucking you.
âClark,â your head lolls against the window, the pleasure making it impossible to hold any part of your body upright.
âIâve got you,â he murmurs, adjusting his grip to stabilize you. âIâm right here, sweetheart.â
You finally tip over the edge and climax with a cry, body sinking down the window until itâs only Clarkâs strength holding you up. He lets you ride his face through it, one hand in his curls, pushing and pulling exactly where you need him most until youâre trembling with the aftershocks.
He crawls up your body, littering kisses as he goes, pausing to focus on your nipples again, swirling his tongue around them. Your brain is in a haze as you drag his face back to you so you can kiss him, not caring -- and frankly, finding it a little hot -- that you can taste yourself on his tongue.
Clark gives no warning before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you like youâre nothing back to his bedroom. He practically tosses you onto the bed, covering his body with yours, caging you underneath him.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he says, almost like he canât believe it as he covers your face in kisses. âTaste so good, every piece of you.â
While he speaks, his hips start to have a mind of their own, steadily rocking into yours, grinding his erection into your stomach. You felt him before, wrapping your hand around him, but feeling him like this, right there, is different.
It makes you gasp into his mouth when the head of his cock catches on your clit. He smirks, nipping at your bottom lip, doing it again just to see your reaction.
âThat feel good?â he asks, just as out of breath as you are. You just nod pathetically as he does it over and over. âIâve gotta stretch you, honey,â he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. âFeel how big I am?â
You nod again, feeling, from the outside, how deep heâll be and God, you have no idea how heâll fit, but you want it to. You want it so bad you might start crying.
One hand snakes its way downward while you continue kissing Clark. Itâs hot and messy and thereâs spit all over both of your chins, but you canât bring yourself to care, especially not when heâs pushing a finger inside you and one already feels so big.
The whine you let out just tells him exactly how you feel, and he soothes you by putting pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand.Â
âItâll feel better in a second, honey,â he promises, already teasing another finger before pushing in, shushing you as you squirm and writhe against him. âToo much?â
You shake your head. âFeels good,â you groan.Â
âThatâs my sweet girl.â
âFeels good but I want you.â
âYouâll get me, honey, donât worry,â he whispers, kissing you gingerly. âNeed you to cum again for me first. Can you do that?â
You donât know, but then he spreads his fingers, pressing right into your G-spot, and that lights your body on fire.
âKnew Iâd find it,â he says, mostly to himself. âGonna add another, okay, baby?â
You nod frantically and you hear him chuckle, but heâs not laughing at you. Heâs just mystified by how gorgeous you are like this. By how much you need him, like you might need him as much as he needs you.
The Superman robots didnât mention anything about the pollen being contagious, but then again, they werenât even entirely certain of what it is, so it could be possible. Youâve swapped enough spit with Clark by now that he wouldnât be surprised if some of it has transferred.
The thought of it just makes him feel even more needy for you. But he wonât hurt you.
He inserts a third finger, gently prodding your G-spot until youâre clenching then relaxing around him. He thrusts slow at first, warming you up to all three before he gradually spreads them, working you open.Â
Your hips grind against his palm with vigor, chasing your high while simultaneously rubbing against his cock. He ruts against your hipbone, giving you what you need and letting himself have just a little friction too.
He feels it when you start clenching around him erratically, hears it when the little whines you let out start stringing together. âGonna cum, baby?â he coos. âGonna let go for me again?â
Youâre helpless against him as you nod, pulling his face toward yours to devour his mouth.
When you cum this time, his fingers slip in even deeper, and thatâs how he knows youâre ready. Youâre sucking them in and not letting go, and the noises youâre making are music to his ears. He spills against your stomach, but only a little, because he wants nothing more than to finish inside you.
âIâve gotta be in you, honey, I-I canât wait anymore,â he groans, dragging his fingers out of you and lining himself up, his head easily slipping in from how wet you are.
âPlease,â you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. âOh Clark, please, need to feel you--â
âIâm right here, my sweet girl,â he soothes, pressing in slowly. âJust let me in.â
Your legs widen in response and he sinks impossibly deep on the first thrust, his head nestled right against your cervix, just barely kissing it. The pain of it quickly blurs into pleasure with every movement until youâre rocking against him, your body somehow trying to take him deeper, even though that isnât biologically possible.
âOh, honey,â he groans, head falling forward and he mouths at your neck, nips at your sensitive spots there. âYouâre so warm.â
You try to say something back, but it just comes out complete nonsense, except Clark catches some of the words.
âIâm so big, I know, honey, I know,â he coos, kissing your forehead. âBut youâre taking me so well, sweet girl. Feel how deep I am?â
You nod against him, wailing when he lightly presses his palm down over the slight bulge in your lower stomach, right where he knows heâs nestled without even needing to use his X-ray vision. But after having that thought, he does use it, just for a moment, just to see.
The only problem is that seeing himself so deep inside you causes his orgasm to come barrelling toward him at a terrifying speed. Heâs barely thrusting, more grinding deeper into you, once, twice, and then heâs falling over the edge, shuddering as he spills inside of you.
You gasp at the feeling, eyes going wide with how much there is. You guess it makes sense, given that heâs not exactly human, so things will be different. Like this.
And, you guess, like the fact that despite now cumming two times, heâs still just as hard as he was when you first got here. It doesnât seem like his orgasms have given him any relief.
If anything, this last one has only spurred him on even more.
âGolly,â he hisses, leaning back onto his knees, hoisting your hips up onto his thighs without slipping out of you. âAre you okay? Still feeling good?â
âYeah,â you breathe, circling your hips against his. âKeep going.â
He grins, wide and wild. âThatâs my girl,â he says, and then he pulls out, working himself inside again, seemingly in awe at how easily he slides inside. âYouâre so wet, baby,â he sounds like heâs praying. âSome of thatâs me, though, yeah?â
You nod, not even caring what heâs talking about because heâs so deep and hard inside of you that you donât know what youâre going to do without him inside you.
âWanna feel you again,â he mumbles, thumbing over your clit. âCan you give me another?â
You donât even need to nod; he feels you immediately clench around him.Â
âLove that I get to have you like this,â he whispers. âAll for me, yeah? All mine.â
âAll yours,â you gasp, writhing again. âFuck, Clark.â
âYeah?â he says, moving again, thrusting inside you and pulling all the way out before slipping back in, because he loves the way you clench and the little whine you let out when he does it. âFeels good, doesnât it? You donât need to say anything, sweet girl, I know it does. Show me how good it feels.â
You were already on the edge, but hearing him speak to you like this, when all youâve known before is quiet, sweet, bumbling Clark in the office sends you right over. The stark contrast is doing something wild to your brain, short circuiting everything until youâre spasming around him uncontrollably.
âThere we go, thatâs my sweet girl,â he soothes you, letting you ride it out against him. âCan I move you, baby? Wan-Wanna try something else. Promise itâll feel so good fâyou.â
You nod and he slowly pulls out, shushing your whines at the feeling of emptiness. He gently turns you over, places a pillow underneath your hips. He palms at your ass, unable to help himself really, before moving you where he needs you with his hands on your waist.
And he just keeps talking to himself. âThere we go, so pretty,â he says, one hand leaving your waist to caress your spine. âLaid out for me so pretty, so I can just-- O-Oh, honey.âÂ
Just the head slips inside and you squirm immediately, feeling a tiny spurt of cum enter you, and then heâs slamming forward in one devastating thrust, holding himself there. You can feel him shaking, feel him holding himself back.
âYou feel too good, baby, I-I canât,â he breaks off into another moan, hips pressing forward again, and a strangled cry leaves his lips before heâs cumming again, filling you up and spilling out around where heâs entered you. âN-No,â he whispers, sniffles. âWanted to-- Wanted to last longer.â
But heâs still not going soft, so his early orgasm only seems to deter him for a brief moment. He catches his breath, leaning over you to kiss the back of your neck, blanketing your body with his.
And then heâs moving again, barely pulling out at all before pushing back inside, carving a space deep inside you just for him, as if he needs to, as if that space wasnât already there.Â
The little noises you make are his only indication that you havenât passed out beneath him, and he takes them as his cue to continue moving, to keep slamming right into your G-spot.Â
âWanna cum together this time,â he says, and it sounds like a plea. âCan you do that for me, honey? Please, for me?â
Youâve never had this many orgasms with a partner, let alone in one night in such quick succession, but somehow it isnât a question when Clark asks if you can give him another. Itâs as if your body is perfectly attuned to him now, and if he wants you to give him another orgasm, then well, you will. Easily.
He keeps working your body perfectly, hitting all of the right spots, until heâs close and holding himself back just until he feels you right on the edge.
âLet go, honey,â he cries. âLet go with me, please, please, please.â
And you do, as if on command, your body lets go right as you feel his hips begin to stutter until heâs spilling another load in you, this one you can feel practically all of it leaking out of you and sticking to your inner thighs, and him.
Clark uses his X-ray vision almost by accident this time, just wanting to see if he can tell how full you are, and oh, he can. He tips his head back, holding onto your waist as he groans.
And then he hears you, and youâre asking for him.
âWhat is it, honey?â he asks, leaning over you to kiss your cheek. âDoing okay?â
You nod, a dopey smile on your face. âCan I--â you swallow, eyes hazy as you look at him. âCan I taste you?â
His hips involuntarily buck into you before he kisses your lips as best he can when youâre in this position. âYou wanna taste me?â
You nod frantically. âPlease?â
âOkay, honey,â he murmurs. âOkay. Yeah, anything-- Anything you want.â
He pulls out slow, careful not to hurt or shock you as he does.Â
You bounce back remarkably fast, already sitting up and sliding off the bed to sink down to your knees, hands reaching out for him. He moves willingly, stumbling around to you, cock bobbing as he goes, still impossibly hard. He wonders how long the pollen will affect him, because although he feels his mind clearing slightly, heâs definitely not feeling any less turned on. And you donât seem to be, either.
You lick him eagerly, cleaning him off first. He hisses as you do, the sensitivity starting to reach him, but it isnât so bad that he wants you to stop. He needs you to keep going.
You grab one of his hands and move it to your head, and he asks, âAre you sure?â
You nod. âWanna feel you in my throat, Clark.â
âOh, sweetheart,â he murmurs, smiling so fondly down at you. âYou tap me if itâs too much, yeah?â
You nod, but youâre not looking up at him, youâre too focused on getting your lips wrapped around his cock. And he decides to stop teasing and let you.
You surge forward, taking the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper.Â
He lets you have your way with him first, and if anything, his grip on the back of your head is so he doesnât lose control and thrust into your mouth too harshly, though it seems thatâs what you want him to do. Still, he doesnât want to hurt you, and heâs not entirely sure how much of this is you and how much of this is the possible added effects of the pollen.
His train of thought is promptly interrupted by you taking him into your throat with zero warning, pressing your nose to the neat little hairs that gather at his base.Â
âO-Oh my gosh, honey, give a guy some warning,â he chokes out, hands cradling your head.Â
You pull off of him with a cheeky grin. âSorry.â
His thumbs stroke your cheeks, shaking his head fondly at you. âEnjoying yourself?â
You nod frantically. âAre you?â
âI am, honey, I am.âÂ
âAre you feeling better?â
He nods. âI am, thank you. Still,â he pauses, rolls his shoulders. âStill turned on, less like Iâm about to die.â
You hum. âThatâs good.â Your hands explore idly while the two of you speak, ghosting over his inner thighs, close to his still-hard cock, but not actually touching him. âBut youâre not done?â
You ask it so softly, like you donât want to be done, either, and it almost breaks his heart. âNo,â he says, petting your head a little. âWe can keep going.â
âGood,â you mumble, starting to kiss him again, all along his length. âBecause Iâm not finished with you yet.â
His knees nearly buckle because you, once again, give him no warning before youâre taking him in your throat. And then you put both his hands on your head, and place your palms over his thighs, giving him full control.
Heâs so glad his brain feels a little clearer now because if this had been earlier, he really mightâve hurt you. Now he can give you what you want without the guilt and worry.
You hum around him, causing his hips to buck on their own accord. He pulls himself back to then try an experimental thrust, his head slipping right into the back of your throat with ease. And instead of moving away, you press your head forward, taking him just a little more.
âHoney,â he gasps. âYouâre being so good for me.â
Whatever you try to respond with comes out garbled nonsense around his cock, but he doesnât mind. He holds your head gently, moving you back and forth just the way he needs, and you let him.
âYou feel so good,â he groans, holding you down for just a moment before letting go, letting you breathe. âDonât wanna-- Where do you-- Oh golly-- Where do you want me to--â
You answer by wrapping your arms around his legs, moving closer on your knees, practically trapping him against you.Â
He whines, high in his throat. âO-Okay, okay, just for you, just this one, next one goes inside your pussy, though, yeah? Please?â You nod against him and he nearly cums right then, feeling the head of his cock moving in your throat. âBaby, I-Iâm not going to last much longer like this--â
That only makes you move with more fervour, like you need to feel him cumming down your throat.
He can barely gasp out a warning before heâs spilling so deep into your throat that you barely taste it, and you donât even move, you just swallow him down, humming happily to yourself.
Clark pulls you off of him after a moment, hauling you up to your feet so he can kiss you. He can feel himself softening now, just a little, but you--
The look in your eyes is wild.
âShoot,â he hisses, hands cradling your face. âSweetheart, look at me.â Your heart is racing, and maybe it has been this whole time, heâs only just now noticing because heâs finally starting to feel like himself again. âHow are you feeling?â
âHot,â you whine, arms looping around his neck. âEmpty.â
âOkay,â he says, turning and laying you down. âHoney, I thinkâŠI think some of the pollen might be in your system now.â
You just blink up at him through bleary eyes, none of his words registering in your brain. But youâre still alert, for the most part, and able to move your body just fine because the next thing he knows, youâve got your ankles locked around him.
âOkay, honey, okay,â he tries to soothe your disgruntled whines. âHurts bad, doesnât it?â
He canât imagine how youâre feeling considering he felt bad and it was designed to affect him. Youâre human.
What if it kills you?
Clark stops that train of thought before it even starts, letting your hand move down to stroke him until heâs fully hard again. He can make it better. He just needs to keep fucking you, and itâll keep working through your system until (hopefully) itâs out of it, and everything will be okay. Itâll be okay.
âClark,â you whine, lining him up with your entrance. âFeels empty.â
âI know, sweetheart, I know,â he shushes you, kissing all over your face. âIâll make it better, okay? Just let me make it better. Let me do all the work, okay?â
You nod, your hand leaving his cock to instead thread your fingers through his curls. âSo handsome.â
He beams, slipping inside you just an inch, and it's so easy after the many rounds you've endured. âThank you, darlinâ.â
Your body is pliant beneath him, just barely holding onto consciousness as he slowly rocks into you. He keeps a steady pace, and listens intently to your heart rate and breathing, just in case. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, so he continues on -- as if youâd let him stop.
âInside me this time?â you ask, but your voice is quiet, like youâre afraid heâs going to tell you no, but Clark could never. Not right now, not ever.
âYeah, honey,â he promises, kissing your nose, then your forehead. âIs that what you need?â
Your head nods erratically against the pillow. âNeed more. Not full enough.â
âJesus,â Clark swears, hips stuttering at how desperate and certain you sound. He holds onto your waist, thumbs pressing over your stomach. âIâll make it better, sweetheart, you just lay here for me, yeah? Iâll fill you up as much as you need. That sound good?â
You reach for his face and pull him down into a kiss, immediately licking into his mouth. You are ravenous, and heâs not sure how heâs going to satisfy you. He just hopes he can, because he doesnât know what this pollen is doing to your body.
Worst case scenario, he guesses, he can fly you to the Fortress and see if the Superman robots can check you over. He might do that anyway, just to be safe.
Clark keeps the same steady pace, hitting your spot over and over and over, fussing over your every whimper and whine. Tears slip from your cheeks but you arenât in any pain, just clinging to him and telling him to keep going.
You finally quiet when he spills inside you, sniffling into his neck as he holds you.
âHoney?â he asks, but he doesnât move, just stays inside you, pressing just a little of his weight into you. âYou okay?â
You nod against him but you donât speak.
Clark can feel himself going soft inside you but he doesnât dare move, not sure what you need right now and if moving might set you off.
But he doesnât want to crush you beneath him, either.
âIâm gonna move over, okay?âÂ
You immediately cling to him even tighter, even clenching around him, worried heâs going to pull out.
âJust so we can lay down,â he rushes to explain, pressing a kiss to your temple.Â
He rolls the two of you easily, putting him on his back with you on his chest, holding onto him like a little koala. Itâs endearing, really, though it worries him. Youâre just so quiet.
Clark fumbles for a blanket and spreads it over your back, his arms caging you against him. He feels your entire body relax, a content sigh leaving your lips as you snuggle even closer.
Your heart is finally slowing down, too, so he takes that as a good sign. You must just be worn out -- who wouldnât be, after all of that?
He hears your breathing even out and he smiles, trying to crane his neck to get a look at your face, but itâs hard when you have it buried in his neck.
âAre you asleep?â he whispers, though he knows the answer. He rubs slow circles on your back and you shiver just a little, inching closer to him, as if you can get any closer. âJust sleep, honey. Iâm right here.â
When you wake up, heâll have to make sure you rehydrate and eat something. Heâll probably run you a bath, too, just so you can relax your muscles even more.
And then, the two of you can talk. Because he has things he needs to confess, things he really shouldâve said to you a long time ago. Then he can plan your first date -- actually plan it out because you deserve the best, especially after today.
He hugs you close, nuzzling his cheek against your head, three words already on the tip of his tongue, but he holds them in. He wants you to be awake when he finally tells you.
Goddamn, Iâm a hoe đ©đ„”

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could I request aïżŒ big daddy Elvis fluff pieceïżŒ? ïżŒ Perhaps BDE ïżŒ with a plus size reader, who can relate to his insecurities?ïżŒ she is always there by his side, whenever he needs her mostïżŒïżŒ and never lets him put himself down? ïżŒâ€ïž
đđđđźđđąđđźđ„
Word count: 1,5K
Warnings: angst(ish), elvis being insecure, use of the word 'fat', strong language, fluff.
A/N: this is more focused on elvis rather than the aspect of reader being plus size- it's almost 4 am, forgive me. đđŒââïž
masterlist
Laying on your stomach on Elvisâ bed, you were flipping through the channels on the television set- as always, indecisive about what to watch.
Seeing as it was nearing two in the morning, there wasnât much interesting to see other than re-runs of shows that you simply did not care about or the news going on a loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Throwing the remote on the bed next to you, you decided on a random comedy show but you werenât focused on it at all.
Instead, you focused on the sound of the shower running in the ensuite.
Elvisâ showers usually lasted twenty to thirty minutes. If he came out in that exact time frame, you knew he was fine. If he did not, youâd always go in to check.
After he slipped one time and suffered a concussion due to hitting his head on the edge of the bath tub, you became a little paranoid. Heâd allowed you to join him in the shower most of the time and although you two were extremely close, you could understand when he told you he didnât want you babysitting him in the bathroom every time- he still needed his privacy as well.
Hence, why you started timing his showers.
Â
As exactly thirty minuted passed, you heard the shower turning off and him shuffling around, picking up and putting down some products from the sink. You heard the quick spray of his aftershave, but then silence.
âElvis?â you called out, a soft hint of panic lingering in your voice.
No answer.
You didnât even hesitate as you got up from the bed and walked toward the ensuite, entering without knocking- he was startled by your entrance just as much as you were surprised to see him standing there in front of the mirror, butt naked.
âIâm okay, baby,â he assured you with a soft smile, grabbing the towel he had throw onto the counter to wrap it around his waist again. You could see in the way he absentmindedly reorganised some hair products around and hear by the soft tone of his voice that he wasnât okay.
âWhatâs going on, El?â you questioned carefully, aware that if he was in a mood, it would be best to let him have his alone time. But it didnât feel like that this time- he had his moments where he could be completely unreasonable, but you could tell the differences between those moments and those where something was really bothering him.
He shrugged a little, shaking his head as he grabbed his tooth brush, running it under the tap before squirting some tooth paste on it. âNothinâ, baby, really- go to bed, Iâll be out in a minute,â
He shouldâve known that you saw right through him every damn time. As he started brushing his teeth, avoiding to look into the mirror, you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter. He felt your eyes burning on him, and he hated the feeling.
âYouâre really good at fooling other people when you tell them everythingâs fine, but not me. I know you longer than today,â you reminded him, reaching your hand out to place it on his shoulder.
You could feel him tensing up a little and you frowned, thinking his reason for acting like he did was because of something you did, because of you- as he looked at you and you saw the sorrow in his eyes, you realised that wasnât the case.
Youâd seen that look before.
This wasnât about you, nor about your relationship or something you had said. This was about him, and more specifically, his body.
Â
âIâm jusâ not feelinâ good in my skin tonight,â he admitted as he spat out the tooth paste and rinsed his mouth, wiping his mouth with a smaller towel he took out of a cabinet.
âDid someone say anything?â you asked as you frowned- ready to fight anyone who opened their mouths to speak ill of Elvis. But he shook his head, smiling softly as he leaned forward to peck your lips.
As he walked out of the bathroom, you followed him and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him drop his towel to step into a pair of clean underwear. âNobody but myself- Iâm just so fuckinâ⊠fat,â
âElvis!â you called his name sternly, jumping up from the bed immediately to walk over to him. You sounded a little like a mother scolding her child, but you didnât care. You hated whenever he talked about himself like this, he knew you did, and although he was always happy that you were there to shush the demons in his head, he couldnât help it sometimes.
There were moments he could barely look at himself in the mirror and tonight had been one of those nights. His brain was working overtime- questioning everything. Questioning why you were with him in his current state, questioning why he even still had people that came to his shows, questioning why he looked like he did.
If there was anyone who knew exactly how that felt, it was you. Not living up to the basic beauty standards yourself, you felt insecure at times as well as hyper focused on the way youâd walk, stand and sit. It was an exhausting routine but ever since you got into a relationship with Elvis, you became more comfortable with your body and he was actually a big reason as to why you loved yourself a little more every day.
Heâd always tell you how beautiful you were, perfect even. And you always made sure to do the same to him- because to you, he was gorgeous. You didnât care that he didnât have a swimmerâs bod or that his face was a little more full than a few years ago.
You loved him for him. His body was only the vessel that housed his beautiful soul, and you accepted everything about him the same way he did every little thing about you.
Â
âLook at me,â you told him, giving him no choice as you gently cupped his face and made him look at you. He sighed softly, trying to avoid eye contact until he realised it was no use because he wasnât winning this time. âWho cares that you donât look the same way you did when you were 18 or 21? Wouldnât the world be the dullest place ever if we all looked the same?â
He gently grabbed your wrists, his thumbs rubbing against your skin repeatedly as you moved your hands down to place them at the side of his neck.
âItâs okay to have off days, itâs okay to look in the mirror and not like what you see sometimes, but donât let it completely drag you down,â you whispered, smiling softly as his eyes met yours. âYouâre not fat, babe, youâre beautiful- people will always have their opinions ready, but who gives a fuck? You got me, and you got the fans, and we love you for you- no matter what the number on the scale says,â
âI give a fuck,â he mumbled, placing his hands on top of yours on the side of his neck to entertwine your fingers together. He avoided eye contact by looking down at nothing in particular. âYou deserve better- youâre gorgeous and deserve some fucker that doesnât have a belly sittinâ in the way,â
You scoffed, which made his eyes find yours again, and you shook your head a little. âOh Elvis, now youâre just talking crazy,â you blurted out. âI donât want anyone else but you and in case you didnât know yet, I love your belly,â
He looked down at you, trying to stop your hands from wiggling out of his which was another battle he was losing; you wrapped your arms around his waist and raised yourself on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips.
âAnd you know something else?â
He playfully squinted his eyes at you as his arms snaked around your shoulders to keep you close against him. Although he still felt a little insecure, you could see he was loosening up again- your words and just having you close to him always made him calm down.
Made him come back to reality and think about what really mattered, the important things in life- which was you.
âHmm?â
You grinned as you squeezed him firmly in your embrace. âSkinny guys are terrible huggers,â
Elvis couldnât hold back a laugh, raising an eyebrow.
âWhat about lovers?â
You scrunched your nose, shaking your head theatrically. âEven worse!â
Â
Elvis knew this wouldnât be the last time heâd cave in to his insecurities, but knowing youâd always be there to lift him back up was reassuring to him. The roles had been reversed plenty of times before too, with you not even wanting to leave the house because you did not want anyone to see you, but heâd be damned if he would allow his lady to talk herself down.
The fact that you never allowed him to put himself down either made him only love you more.
Taglist: @breadsquash @feverkitten @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @wonka-gifs @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @savedrebelcreation @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @elvisabutler
Back on my Elvis grind, so Iâma reblog schtuff đ
â September 22, 1917 / Franz Kafka diaries
WRONG. HOBBIT BIRTHDAYS
HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRODO AND DILDO đđđđ
Sorry, Frodo and WHO?
Ngl I fucking broke đđđ
#LOCK_IN
Fite me bitch
I'll defend my fic
Who am I fighting against?

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What if I wrote a one shot⊠where Dr Emery Walsh is dating/married to Jackâs sister? And it explains their dynamic because he sees her as family and he has a hard time shutting it offâŠ
Would we like that? Or has it been done?
Gib it *grabby hands*
In sickness and in health
Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinvitch x sick!wife!reader
summary: You've been having some weakness in your right hand and Robby encourages you to get it checked out. You end up at the neurologist, who gives you bad news.
Angst.
warnings: mentions of ALS and its prognosis, talk of DNR, reader will die in future (not written).
Masterlist
"Damn it!" You whisper as your knife drops to the floor. You bend to pick it up again, forcing your fingers to close around the utensil to grab it.
Robby puts his own cutlery down, his big brown eyes looking over you, trying to figure out what is wrong.
"You know," he begins softly, "That's the third time you dropped something with no reason these past couple of days. I'm starting to get a little worried."
You inspect your hand, trying to figure out why it's been feeling weird this week. "At least the seventh time, actually. I keep dropping my pen at work and I smashed my phone on the floor without warning this morning." You squeeze your finger together, relieved they seem to be working again. "You think something's wrong? Something bad?"
Robby keeps his eyes on your face trying to bring this delicately. He takes of his glasses and puts them on the table, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
"I'm an emergency physician, my brain always heads straight for something bad, that's what I'm trained for. But that doesn't mean it actually is anything bad, we just have to rule it out. You've probably strained a muscle somehow, or you've been overworking yourself. You've been tired these past few weeks, it could just be from that as well. But check in with Dr. Smith, just to be sure. He'll draw some blood, maybe send you to a neurologist, and then it's probably nothing. You're healthy, you exercise. I'd guess it's probably just fatigue."
You nod at him, forgoing your knife to tear of a piece of toast with your fingers.
"Right. So diagnosis is probably just fatigue or something with a muscle, but possibly something a little worse to do with my brain?"
Robby smiles at you reassuringly. "Right. Just call doctor Smith today, go in to see him tomorrow and then we can stop worrying, all right?"
Two weeks later you and Michael are sat in the office of a neurologist. What was supposed to be just a few blood tests has turned into a whole array of other testing, and with each one you've grown more scared of what might be going on. The doctors and nurses keep saying they can't tell you anything until all the tests are done. You had the last of your test a couple of hours ago and you've been waiting on the neurology floor for the doctor to give you the results. Robby was paged up just a minute ago.
He is holding your hand when the doctor breaks the news. He feels your hand start to tremble as you listen, his big thumb stroking your hand to let you feel that you are there.
"So what's the next step in this?" You ask, trying to control your voice, "Surgery? Medication of some sorts?"
Both of the doctors in the room stay quiet.
You turn towards your husband. "Michael. Please tell me. I can take it I swear. I can guess at what your silence means, but I need you to tell me. I need to know."
He swallows and tears fill his eyes. "There's no... cure. Not for ALS. Not yet."
Your throat feels constricted. "What do you mean there's no cure? Explain it to me, because I'm not sure I fully understand. There must be something we can do right?"
The neurologist steps in.
"Unfortunately, at this time there is nothing we can do to stop the disease. We can treat your symptoms to slow the disease, make sure we help you to keep living your life the way you want to for as long as possible. But you have to understand, ALS is a fatal disease."
You feel panic rising in your body, constricting your breathing and setting your brain on fire.
"Are you seriously telling me I'm dying right now? I don't feel sick at all. I'm not even fifty. I just came for a check up 'cause I was having trouble holding my pen at work. I wasn't even going to come in. Robby convinced me and I wanted to soothe his worries. This is- this is...."
You swallowed, your throat terribly dry all of a sudden, "I'm supposed to have another thirty years at least. I'm supposed to grow old with Michael. We have so many things planned, so many dreams."
Michael releases a sob next to you, crumbling, hiding his face in his hands. You look 'round to him in shock. It's not like Michael to break down like this.
You try to control yourself, try to remain calm for Robby's sake.
You aren't sad, you tell yourself. You're angry.
It must be a mistake. Yes. That has to be it.
You don't notice the tears rolling down your own face.
"Are you sure about this? My primary care doctor sent me here just to be sure. He said I was probably just overworked, wanted to rule out anything that had to do with my brain. That's all. We just had to rule it out."
The neurologist continues. "That is what we hoped, but the results are very conclusive. We did several tests and we believe your disease has not progressed far, but you do have ALS."
Robby has stopped crying, he's looking at a drawing of a brain behind the neurologist's desk.
"How long do I have?" You demand. Robby shrinks in his chair.
"ALS progresses very differently for each individual." The doctor answers.
"Don't give me that crap." You snap at him, any grasp you thought you had on your emotions now failing you, "How long?"
"It could be months. but it could very well be years as well. as many as one in every ten patients makes it to ten years. With the right treatment we can keep you around as long as possible."
You swallow. "And on average?"
"The average is around three to five years."
You slump back into your chair, unable to speak. Your hand finds Robby's. He squeezes your fingers and looks over to you. His eyes are red and you can see the path of his tears on his cheeks. He tries to smile encouragingly, but you can only see the pain and worry in his eyes.
The doctor closes the file in front of him and looks you in the eye.
"I think you need some time, both of you, to process this and talk about it. It's very difficult news to come to terms with, I know. Talk about it together, let it sink in. I'd like to see you back here the day after tomorrow, we'll talk more about what's going to happen and what our treatment plan will be. There's some clinical trials we should discuss as well. You can always call me with questions, but I think doctor Robinavitch can answer most of them as well. We'll take it day by day from here, all right?"
You were sitting in Robby's car half an hour later, both without words. Robby had gone down to the Pitt, had whispered to Dana what was going on and left without speaking to anybody else. He left a senior resident in charge. All colour is gone from his face, his brown eyes popping even more against the pale skin, the skin around his eyes red from crying.
You were the first to speak. "Michael, I wanna say something, and I need you to respect that, okay?" He turns towards you.
"I did some googling while you were inside." Robby tries to interrupt. "Let me just finish, please. I probably shouldn't have looked it up, I know. Doctor Google is almost never right. But I did look it up."
You look at some faraway point, trying to focus enough to put your words together correctly.
"I read that, uhm, I read that I'll probably die because my muscles won't be able to support my breathing, or my heart anymore, and I'll go into respiratory arrest. Am I right so far?" You looked back at him and he nodded, his eyes focusing on yours.
"Okay. I want to sign a DNR then. Tomorrow."
Robby pulls at his hair with both hands. "Jesus, fuck! Darling. I'm still trying to process you being sick. I'm nowhere near discussing this."
You put a hand on his thigh and give a little squeeze. You reach for his hands to hold them so he will stop pulling his hair.
"Thats fine. You don't have to be ready to talk about it. But I am ready to talk about it and I need you to listen and except what I'm saying. I want you to know, I need you to know; I don't want any heroic measures. If I stop breathing, I stop breathing. Thats it. If I'm going to die anyway I don't want to do it at a hospital with a tube down my throat. I'll die on my terms. And I'll do everything to slow the disease, I promise you that. Absolutely everything I can. But when it's time you've got to let me go. I want to make sure of that tomorrow, so there won't be a time where you have to make a decision. Not like with Adamson. I can't put you through that. It's my decision to make, and I've made it."
Robby can't talk anymore. He feels like his tears should be close to drying out but they keep coming.
You climb over the console, into his lap. You stay there in his arms, your tears disappearing into his black scrub top, his big hands rubbing circles on your back.
"I promise." He murmurs to you after some time, his lips touching your hair. "We'll do it all on your terms; living, dying, you tell me how and we'll make it happen. I promise."
A week later Abbot finds Robby on the roof. He'd taken a week of work, but at your pushing he was back to work that day. You want to continue you own work as well, want to feel like a normal human being while you still can. So you kicked him out of the house and back to the Pitt that morning.
"Hey man," Abbot opens, "You wanna come on this side of the fence? So we can talk?"
Robby turns around but doesn't leave his spot.
"Dana told me. I am so sorry." Jack keeps his focus on Robby, ready to sprint if he moves any closer to the edge. His face is calm, his eyes filled with pity.
Robby nods his thanks. His arms hang still at his side.
"How do you do it, Jack?" He asks, "Wait for your wife to die?"
Abbot keeps his eyes locked on his friend. He thinks for a minute before answering. "You don't wait, brother. You live life, keep on living, till you can't anymore. You lean on your friends, your family. You go to therapy so you can deal with what you feel, you love her, spend every second you can with her. You try to engrain every part of her into your brain so you don't forget. It's damn hard, and you'll cry and curse out the universe for doing this, but the two of you can handle it. Together you can live life a little longer. You don't wait for her to die, brother, you live, together, while you still can."
Robby moved to the other side of the fence, hugging Jack before going down the stairs together.
This hit close to home. My mom passed away from ALS a year ago.
I teared up reading this fic đ«đ„ș
I'm not sorry for the person I've become :D
Gurl you boutta travel to South Korea to lick the ground he walks on đđđ
You lucky Iâm saying this and not the dirty shit I sent on discord a few days back đ
đđ
Bish, you coming with me???
Fuck yes I will, have to keep you in check somehow đđ
đđ
Pfft, I'll be fiiiiiine
We both know thatâs a lie đđ
I'm not sorry for the person I've become :D
Gurl you boutta travel to South Korea to lick the ground he walks on đđđ
You lucky Iâm saying this and not the dirty shit I sent on discord a few days back đ
đđ
Bish, you coming with me???
Fuck yes I will, have to keep you in check somehow đđ

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I'm not sorry for the person I've become :D
Gurl you boutta travel to South Korea to lick the ground he walks on đđđ
You lucky Iâm saying this and not the dirty shit I sent on discord a few days back đ
She's Here
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader
21.2k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: I know thereâs not a supply closet on the floor plan but weâre pretending; took what I needed for the set up of PittFest from the show, storyline diverges once PittFest patients start arriving; angst; active suicide risk Robby; Robby has not been to therapy; miscommunications; Robby cries; Reader cries; suicidal ideation/suicide planning; allusions to PIV sex and oral (m. rec) sex; dry humping kind of; alcohol; joking use of daddy; mentions of blood; mentions of guns and shootings; breaking up; making up after argument; Robby puts his foot in his mouth; reader has some insecurities; grief; mentions of death/dying/coding; seizures; CPR; anxiety about partner's safety; mentions of compartmentalization; age gap kind of implied with Robby but not explicitly referenced (he's an attending when Reader starts as an intern); no use of y/n or related
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 and doesn't react well.
AN: Based on this ask sent in by @loveyhoneydovey. First Robby fic!!!!! I don't know how I feel about it!! I'm very nervous about his voice and characterization here and if it feels like him. I'm always very nervous though. We get some development of your relationship through vignettes of the past like I've done before. Dividers made by the amazing @saradika-graphics. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments and as always thank you so much for reading!!
âWeâre doing it.â Robbyâs voice is just above a whisper as he walks in with Jack.
âThat could mean one of several thousand things, Robby.â Jack glances at him. He keeps his voice hushed like Robbyâs. âYouâre going to have to be a bit more specific than âweâre doing it.ââÂ
âHer and I,â Robby clarifies. âWeâre together. It happened today. Iâm taking her out tomorrow night.âÂ
âAbout fucking time,â Jack mutters lowly. He claps Robby on the shoulder as they keep walking. âIâm really happy for you brother. For you both.â
âReally? Thatâs all you have to say?â Jack looks at Robby and raises his eyebrows while squinting a little, asking what Robby wanted instead. âI donât know,â Robby shrugs, âI thought youâd have some more enthusiasm.âÂ
âI do,â Jack nods, âbut given your near whispering, I wasnât sure if you wanted me to express it right here in, you know, the middle of the entire fucking ED,â Jackâs dropped his voice even lower the further theyâve walked in, âbecause it seemed like maybe not everyone knew yet and I wasnât sure if you really wanted me to be the one to tell them or make them starting asking even more questions.â He gives Robby a look for a second before softening it into a small smile and nodding at Robby.
You grin to yourself when you see Jack. You and Robby agreed that Dana and Jack had to know right away but that you wouldnât tell Dana until Jack was here. You could tell that Dana knew something was up, though.Â
You walk by Robby and Jack on your way to Dana, smirk at them. âBoys.â You nod.Â
Robby lets out a long breath and shakes his head a little. He has no idea what to do with you sometimes, in the best way. Jack just smirks back at you a little, but softens it out just a bit at the end and nods to silently tell you heâs very happy for you.Â
You smile as you walk up to Dana, standing next to her as she looks up at the board. âWeâre together,â you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. âHeâs taking me out tomorrow night.â
âAbout fucking time,â Dana whispers back. She gives you a sly smile and bumps your hip with hers. âIâm very happy for you, both of you.â
âThank you,â you nod, making eye contact with Robby across the floor, âI am too.âÂ
You stand up when you hear someone else enter the supply closet. You think it might be Dana coming to lovingly corner you and get info on how your date was. But itâs not her. Itâs Robby. âHey,â you call out to him.Â
âHi.â His response is a little short and confuses you but you just let it go. He walks over so that heâs standing next to you. A respectable distance apart. Robby starts looking through the shelves but as you watch him itâs clear heâs not really actually looking for anything. âHeard you had a date last night.â His voice is strained, he sounds like heâs trying to hide some simmering anger. But you recognize it for what it really is. Jealousy.
You stop pulling the tubing you need from the shelf but donât turn to look at him. How did he even know about that and why does he fucking care are the only two things you can really think about. He has no right to be mad. You and Robby have been dancing around each other for years now. At his behest. And at a certain point it felt like his reasoning for that changed.Â
After a couple of seconds you sigh. âI did yeah.âÂ
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, mouth in a line. You have to roll your eyes at him as you pull out the tubing. âYou sleep with him?âÂ
You scoff and finally look over at him, but heâs still looking at the shelves. âIâm sorry, please tell me how the fuck that is even close to your business.âÂ
Robby just pulls his lips down. Not sad per se but thinking. âSo you did.â
You just want this conversation to be over at this point. Because it hurts. Because Robby has been and it seems always will be right there but unwilling or unable or not wanting to try being with you. âYeah. Sorry I needed to get laid and actually went out and got it. You should fucking try it, Michael.â Itâs not even a conscious decision, deciding to push him away first in this conversation, to try and act unaffected by the thought of him being with someone else.Â
He ignores your jabs, but the confirmation that you were with someone else makes his blood boil, jealousy ripping through him and clouding his thoughts. âYou let him touch you. Touch whatâs mine.âÂ
âHa!â you laugh. Then thereâs ten or so seconds of silence as you gape at him while his words fully process because youâre so struck by his fucking audacity. âWhatâs yours? Whatâs fucking yours? Are you out of your fucking mind Michael? Please, since fucking when have I been yours?â He still doesnât look at you. âHey! Look at me, asshole!â You throw the tubing in your hand at him.Â
That gets him to turn and look at you with a scowl on his stupid handsome face. He knows that youâre not at all his. He canât bring himself to admit it though. âThought we were going to do this. Do us. When youâre an attending. Guess not.â
You have to laugh at his words again, exasperatedly this time. âNo Michael. You donât get to do this. Iâve wanted to do this. Do us. You are the one who hasnât. And for a while I understood why, and even when I didnât, I have always respected your feelings. It was youâre under me and âI donât want to mess up your career or give you a reputation and have that impact usâ and âwhen youâre an attendingâ that slowly seemed to turn into âIâm not sure if I want you anymoreâ and âmaybe when youâre an attendingâ and Iâve spent the better part of a year trying to decide if you really didnât want to do this, didnât want me anymore, or if you were just trying to protect yourself or something. Because it went from when youâre an attending to maybe when. So why would I be waiting around anymore, Michael? I waited for years. And if it was just about me being under you and my career and people knowing I earned everything I got then why didnât you come ask me out and say you were ready to do this the second I got offered and accepted an attending position?â
You swallow hard and have to look away from Robby. Youâre so confused by him but still down so bad. Deep down you know him calling you his hit you so hard because you are. You have been. Even if he didnât know and didnât want you. Youâd given yourself to him. But you wonât cry for him. Not here. Not at work. Not where everyone would know regardless of your explanation.Â
And Robby hates it. How sad you look. How you could ever possibly think he didnât want to be with you. That he didnât want you. He never realized at some point heâd said maybe. It was never maybe for him. But your last question floors him.Â
âWhen you what?â Robby whispers, face furrowed in confusion, lips pulled down even more.Â
You scoff at him again. âDonât even try Robby. Donât even try to pretend you didnât fucking know that in fucking August of last year I got offered an attending spot.â You look back over at him. Robbyâs still facing you but his head is dropped slightly, eyes looking left and flicking around a little. He looks half confused and half devastated. âHoly shit, you really didnât know. How the hell did you not know, Michael?â
He shakes his head slowly, still thinking. âGloria and I were at each otherâs throats particularly bad last August. Things were crazy here and she kept harping me about needing to interview and pick an attending and I snapped one day and told her that I didnât even fucking care, that she could pick one for all I cared.â He looks up at you again. âI never thought she actually would. And she never told me that she actually did.â
You stare at him. Itâs a plausible story and you can always tell when heâs lying to you or giving you a half truth or omitting something. And itâs not like youâve told anyone. Youâre one of those people who are afraid to announce it like itâll jinx it somehow since itâs something that will start in the future. Your one exception to not saying anything was if you got with Robby. Youâd tell people and let it be known because you figured it would appease some of his worries about it seeming like you got your job only because you were sleeping with him or in a relationship with him. But he never came to you after you signed. It broke your heart more than you wanted to admit.Â
Youâre not sure how to respond and Robbyâs not sure what else to say. âWell, she did. And it was me. So hopefully thatâs not disappointing news to you, I guess.âÂ
âDisappointing ne-â He decides part way through to not even finish the thought. Because the meaning of it all catches up with him. You have an attending position. And honestly, kind of even better, you have an attending position and Robby can honestly say he had absolutely no input into the decision. So while youâre not quite an attending yet, youâre pretty damn close. And that means Robby doesnât have to break his own heart and tell you that you guys canât. Doesnât have to say when youâre an attending. For all intents and purposes you are one. âYou can be mine now, Kid?â Itâs almost a statement but not quite.Â
You nod a little, look down at your shoes. âIf you want me, yeah.â Robby doesnât think heâs ever heard your voice this small and the fact that you think he could possibly not want you kills him.Â
âIf I want you? If?â Heâs quick to close the distance between you, hands at your waist and pulling you to him as he stops walking. Both of you are breathing heavier and after your eyes flit down to look at each otherâs lips the tension between the two of you finally snaps.Â
You kiss each other hard, sliding right into tongue and sucking. Your arms wrap around Robbyâs neck, hands finding his hair and running through it, tugging at it when he kisses you in a way you particularly like. Robby pulls away so you can see each other and you make a noise of protest. âThere was never a maybe. And Iâm sorry if I said that. Thereâs no if. Never has been, Kid. Never will be. So will you go out with me? Be mine?âÂ
You smile at him, steal another kiss before nodding. âIâll go out with you. And Iâll be yours as long as youâll be mine.â
Robby laughs. The two of you are finally together. âOh, Iâm yours. Iâm all fucking yours.âÂ
You and Robby have been together a little over four months now. Youâre pretty much living with him, you just havenât made it quite official yet. It still feels a bit soon, even for you. Your lease will be up around ten months of dating so you think thatâs when youâll make it official and completely move in. If he wants. Youâre pretty sure he will. You always hear about it the next day if you donât sleep in the same bed the previous night.
Youâre not surprised when you wake up and the bed is empty, even if you are a little disappointed. You know this is a bad day for him. A hard day. Youâve never actually been with him or around him on this day before because until now he took it off and you always inevitably ended up working it. Youâre not sure what changed for him and why he feels like heâs ready to be there and work today and youâre not sure if itâs truly whatâs best for him at this point, but youâll support him, be there for him, let him lean on you, whatever he needs. You wonât give him a hard time about his decision to work.Â
Robbyâs in the kitchen making coffee when you pad in. Youâre dressed only in one of his oversized shirts. Heâs not entirely certain about working today. But heâs tired of letting the day have control over him. It feels wrong. And when Jake asked for Robbyâs PittFest ticket so he could take his girlfriend Leah instead of Robby it felt like a sign.
âMorning,â you say softly as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. You press your cheek against his broad back and rest your hands on his tummy.Â
âMorning, Kid.â Robby squeezes one of your hands before continuing to make the coffee.Â
Heâs been up long enough for the sleep to disappear from his voice and to shower. His hair is wet. âSleep well?â
âI always sleep well when youâre in bed with me.â You can hear the smirk in his voice.
âMichael.â You press a kiss to his back. âSeriously.â
âI slept well, yes. I meant it.â Thereâs a hint of exasperation in his tone and you get it. You do. But you ask because you care about him and worry about him.Â
âGood.â You close your eyes and just breathe him in for a couple of moments. âYou sure about working today?â
He knew it was coming. And he knows you mean well and are asking because you care about him and he loves it. He really does. Because he doesnât remember the last time heâs had someone care about him the way you do. Because youâre in love with him and heâs in love with you even if you havenât said it to each other yet. You both can tell the other is. But for some reason he doesnât really understand, he just falters right before he can say it, canât bring himself to as though thatâll somehow be what makes it more real, like it isnât already. And he knows you havenât told him because you donât want him to feel pressured to return those three words.
But at the same time, you asking multiple times just in different words is going to be annoying today. That level of checking in on him. It is already. Because he just wants it to be a normal day. He doesnât want everyone treating him like heâs made of glass just because one bad thing happened on this day. Itâs suffocating. He knows itâs out of love and concern but it gets suffocating.Â
Just like all the PPE was on this day when Adamson died. Maybe thatâs part of why it hits such a nerve.Â
Robby takes a second to breathe so that the mild irritation and frustration doesnât seep into his tone. He doesnât, however, explain or communicate that he canât deal with the constant checking in, that it suffocates him. âYes, Iâm sure. Iâll be okay. Iâll have you there with me if I need anything.â Heâs hoping that last part tells you that heâll come find you if he needs you and so you donât have to ask. It understandably doesnât.Â
âI will, yes.â Youâre quiet as you listen to the coffee percolate. You can feel how tense he is. You know youâll never really be able to understand how hard this day is for him or in what ways it is. So you just want to be there for him, make sure heâs okay. You think maybe a distraction will help. Robby pours himself a cup of coffee as you speak. âWanna shower with me?â you ask with a seductive lilt so he knows exactly what you mean.Â
He laughs softly, takes a sip of his coffee and starts to turn in your arms. You relax your arms and let him, greet him with a sweet smile. âCome here,â he whispers, sticking his lips out.Â
You shake your head. âI have morning breath.âÂ
He clicks his tongue at you. âWhen have I ever cared about that before?âÂ
You shrug. âItâs different when we both do.âÂ
âCome here,â he says again, more stern this time as he makes eye contact with you. You consider it for a moment but eventually give in. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. But you keep it chaste and short. There will be time for more after you brush your teeth, youâre sure.
âShower?â You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smirk on your face, nails scratching gently at his back.Â
He smirks at you. âMy coffee will get cold.â He holds the cup up and tilts it just slightly before taking another sip.
You breathe out a slightly incredulous and hurt laugh, take your arms from around him as you speak. First he dodges the question and then that. You tell yourself itâs just because of the day and that heâs not in the mood or mentally there and thatâs okay. That it makes sense. But coffee? He couldnât just say no? âWow, coffeeâs better than my mouth or pussy, ouch.â
Michael rolls his eyes at you. Thatâs not at all what he meant. âStop. And Iâve also already showered, which I know you know.âÂ
This time you just scoff and shake your head at him a little. âYeah, because neither of us have ever gotten back in the shower with each other after we already showered. But okay,â you laugh quietly as you step back. Robby tilts his head at you as you walk away, he knows you have more to say. You stop and turn around to look at him before turning to go back to the bedroom and en suite to shower. âYou know, Michael, you can just say no. Youâre allowed to say no. Iâm not going to force you to shower or have sex with me. Saying no is okay. Not being in the mood is okay, especially on a day like today. I suggested it to try and help distract you and maybe make you feel good.â The maybe is a little slip of insecurity. âYou donât even need a reason and you never have to explain why, but just, the way you communicate that no. The shitty excuses hurt. And they make me wonder about myself far more than âno Iâm not in the moodâ does.â You turn and walk away.Â
Robby sets his mug down and you hear it, shake your head to yourself. âKid!â he calls after you, pushing off the kitchen counter. He never meant to hurt you or make you doubt yourself. He never meant to make it feel like this was a you thing. Because itâs not. Itâs him. Itâs the day. Itâs his mood.Â
Youâre really not in the mood at this point. For sex of any kind or to have a conversation with him right now, honestly. You keep telling yourself that itâs just a really bad day for him. It has nothing to do with you or the two of you. Itâs the day. You know Robby doesnât see it well and you donât point it out more because he has so much of his own shit going on, but you still have so much insecurity. About yourself. About the two of you. You worry youâre not good enough for him or arenât what he expected and thought youâd be.Â
You walk in the bathroom quickly and uncharacteristically lock the door behind you. Usually both you and Robby leave the door unlocked or even partially open when you shower. You turn the shower on and take his shirt off quickly, wanting to just be in the shower and have it as an excuse for not hearing him. If he even tries to talk to you.Â
Robby almost slams into the door when it doesnât open. He hadnât expected it not to open. For you to have locked it. âKid, please,â he calls loudly, hoping youâll hear him over the water. He knocks on the door, with the middle knuckle of his index finger. âPlease!â You can hear him. You just donât feel like shouting, and again. You donât really want to talk.Â
You stand under the stream of hot water and zone out a bit. Ruminate. You know that you and Robby are fine. That youâre great. You know heâs attracted to you. That he loves having sex with you. You had incredible sex last night for godâs sake. Itâs the day. Itâs the emotions it brings up for him. The grief. You shouldnât have even brought sex up. Heâs sad and grieving and triggered today. Why would you do that?Â
âKid!â Robby calls again, still knocking. âI didnât mean to hurt you or insinuate coffee was better than you or anything like that.â When you donât answer Robby goes and sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a long sigh. He lets his head fall back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He really could do without you doing this. Without this added thing and stress. The day is hard enough as it is.Â
His voice brings you back and you start to do all of your normal shower things. Youâre surprised when Robbyâs not immediately knocking and calling for you again once he hears the shower turn off. You figure heâs probably gone back to his coffee and the thought sends a little pang through your heart.Â
You wrap your towel around yourself and open the bathroom door. You almost jump a little when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted at you. You look at him for a moment and then walk to his dresser and open your drawer, pull out a set of scrubs, an undershirt and some underwear. You grab your bra off the floor where Robby threw it last night. You can feel his eyes on you, the way heâs tracked you across the room and is watching you.Â
When you turn back around and see him heâs smiling to himself, itâs almost anticipatory. His eyes run up and down your towel covered body. He looks like heâs eager to see you naked when you get dressed. And he is. He abso-fucking-lutely is. It melts you a little bit. But youâre hurt still and he hasnât offered an apology to your face. So you take your clothes and walk towards the bathroom.Â
Robby draws out a scoff, but the disappointment rings through more than his irritation. âSo what, I donât even get to admire you as you get dressed anymore?â
You turn at the threshold of the bathroom door to look back at him, capture his gaze. You drag your eyes from him to the open bedroom door and then back to him. Youâre stoic as you shrug. âYour coffeeâs getting cold out there.â Â
You just catch Robbyâs shoulders and face fall as you turn back and step in the bathroom before shutting and locking the door. You already regret it. Wish you could take it back. You shouldnât have hurt him just because he hurt you.
Your words sting, they hurt and sadden him. But he can at least understand why you said it. Robby lets out a long sigh and rubs his face but doesnât get up. He doesnât care about the fucking coffee. He doesnât even want it anymore. He wants you. He wants to hold you close and kiss you. He wants to apologize. He wants your forgiveness. He needs all of that. Needs you.
You get dressed and finish getting ready in the bathroom quickly. You know you need to apologize to Robby and you want to, you really do feel awful. You just kind of hope heâll also apologize to you. This is not the start to this day that either of you needed.Â
Seeing Robby still sitting on the bed when you open the bathroom door is unexpected. You figured heâd go get his coffee and wait for you in the living room.Â
You look at each other for a moment and then you break the silence. Robby wants to be the one to but the words just get caught in his throat before he can even open his mouth. âIâm sorry for being passive aggressive and saying that. I shouldnât have. I shouldâve just talked to you and worked it out.â
Robby gives you a small smile. âI accept your apology, and Iâm sorry too.â He beckons you with two fingers and you walk over to him, stand between his legs when he opens them for you and rest your hands on his shoulders. He waits for you to look down at him before he continues. âI never meant to make you doubt yourself or feel unwanted. In any way. I didnât think any of it through before I said it. Didnât think about how it would make you feel.â
You squeeze his shoulders gently. âI accept your apology.â Youâre not sure what else to say.
âYou know I want you. I always want you, Kid. I did this morning, I justâŠâ He shakes his head and sighs. âMy brain, you know? The thoughts and all that shit.âÂ
âI know, yeah,â you murmur, running a hand through his hair. âI thought sex might be a good distraction. I shouldâve thought a little harder about it before I offered.âÂ
âIt usually is.â He tilts his head at you. âCan I kiss you for real now? Not whatever that was that you gave me in the kitchen.â
You laugh softly and nod. âIâd like that.â Robby wraps his arms around you as he stands up, stopping at the right height to kiss you instead of standing straight. Itâs a kiss that at just about any other time would lead to far more. It certainly leads to another kiss and then another, and before you realize it you and Robby have been standing there making out for a solid couple of minutes.Â
He groans as he pulls away from you. âI donât want to stop but I do want to have time to treat you to breakfast burritos and your choice of caffeine from that place down the street. Eat as we walk to work.â
âTreat me or yourself?â You smirk at him.Â
âYou.â He shakes his head at you a little as he says it. âThe fact that itâs also a treat for me is just a fun coincidental bonus.âÂ
âYeah, coincidental my ass, Robinavitch.â You try to keep your smirk up but it turns into a smile the more you stare at those big brown eyes you love so much. It almost slips out but you catch yourself, turn to walk to the entryway to get your shoes on. I love you.Â
The two of you get breakfast burritos and coffee on the way in. Neither of you say anything but you both think itâs ironic that the coffee was a whole thing and then he just left his mug and the carafe of it sitting there at home. Once you get to work you get your stuff in your lockers, stethoscopes around your neck and head to the hub.Â
The day passes relatively quickly. For you at least. From what youâve gathered from others and what Robby has said when youâve talked to him, things have not been as smooth for him as they have been for you. You make sure he has some semblance of a lunch, drinks some water.Â
Towards the end of the shift he comes and finds you. Itâs the first time heâs really purposefully sought you out all day. You wouldnât say he was avoiding you but a little bit you felt like that. After you asked him if he was okay when you saw him for the second time while at work and got an exasperated answer you realized he was tired of being asked. You knew he was probably getting it from Dana too. So you stopped directly asking, figuring it out subtly through other means. And heâd appreciated it when you backed off. Heâd recognized when youâd done so. It had made him feel a little less suffocated and a lot loved even without exchange of the words. Because it was clear how well you knew him and how easily you picked up on what he needed.Â
Thatâs why him seeking you out has you so concerned. It has to be bad.Â
âCan I talk to you for a second?â Robbyâs voice is strained as he grabs your elbow and starts walking you towards an empty room.Â
Your face furrows as you let him lead you into the room. âEverything okay?â You wonder if this is about Dana and what happened to her.
He doesnât answer, just closes the door as you walk in the room and stands with his back to the window. âIâm gonna tell you something but you have to keep your reaction really controlled, okay? And obviously you canât tell anyone.â You nod. âLangdonâs addicted to pain meds and has been stealing meds.âÂ
The furrows smooth out of your face and you have no real facial reaction other than in your eyes which only Robby can see. They widen just slightly with shock. âWhat the fuck?â
âI know. I fucking know. I sent him home but I fucking,â Robbyâs shaking his head hard. His eyes are a little glassy. You know Langdon is kind of Robbyâs protĂ©gĂ©. Everyone does. Just like everyone knows you kind of are too. âI let a drug addict practice medicine and treat patients. I fucking let him.â
You tilt your head and shake it at him. âMichael, you didnât let him do anything. This isnât your fault. I understand you feeling like it is, and thatâs valid of course, but I promise you itâs not your fault.â
He shrugs at you, looks so incredibly helpless and at a loss. It breaks your heart. You walk towards him and pull him further in the room a little bit, drawing the curtain to give the two of you a little privacy. You walk back so that youâre standing right in front of him, just enough space between the two of you that you can see each other.Â
You donât say anything as you reach up and start rubbing at his shoulders and the back of his neck before he can. You feel him relax and he drops his head, eyes fluttering close while his hands come to settle on your hips.Â
He doesnât understand how you always seem to know what he needs. When he needs you to talk to him. When he just needs quiet acceptance and to just be in your presence like this. How youâve picked up on him rubbing his neck. Itâs more comforting and soothing when you do it, the circles he rubs on your hips over your scrubs keeping his hands busy.Â
Youâre a little surprised by it honestly. You thought he might reject this little bit of comfort youâre offering him. Not because of you but because he rarely accepts it at work even in private like this. Youâre pretty sure his brain constantly tells him he doesnât deserve the comfort here.Â
âWe need to get back out there,â he finally mumbles, bringing his head back up and opening his eyes.Â
âProbably, yeah,â you agree. You stop rubbing his neck and loosen your arms but keep them where they are for a moment to see if heâll hug you. Youâre not going to push it on him, not going to make him feel bad when itâs too much for him right now.Â
Robbyâs hands squeeze your hips one last time. âThanks, Kid.â He pulls away and you drop your arms, stepping out of the room with him once he pushes the curtain back.Â
You both get sucked back into work and you donât see much of Robby until him racing in from the ambulance bay catches your attention. Dana comes walking in quickly behind him and you catch her gaze, tilt your head as you walk over.Â
A frown and worried brows are etched deep into her face. âThereâs a shooter at PittFest. MCI protocol.âÂ
Everything freezes for a second as you hit fight or flight, limbs going cold and nausea creeping up on you. You say nothing to Dana, immediately turning and following after Robby because you know he put his phone in his locker earlier and is going to get it.Â
âDonât!â you yell at him as he opens his locker. âMichael, do not call or text him!â
He doesnât stop, grabbing his phone and starting to unlock it. âAre you out of your fucking mind-â
âIf heâs hiding and doesnât have his phone on silent it could give him away,â you rush out before Robby can hit send or call.Â
He freezes and looks up at you finally. âFuck,â he mutters. âFuck!â That one is yelled. âWhy the fuck didnât I think of that?â
You walk over to him and cover one of his hands with yours. âBecause youâre effectively his dad in a lot of ways, Michael, and so youâre too close to it, of course your first instinct was to call him to see if he was okay. I love him too and itâs not that I donât want to know if heâs okay, and I know itâs very unlikely thereâs really anywhere to hide and that itâs probably so loud his phone ringing would barely be audible, but I just think itâs better to be safe right now. Heâll know to call or text you or his mom. Heâll know. And if Janey hears from him she will call you. I know she will.â
Heâs breathing hard as he looks at you before finally look away as he shuts his locker. âWhat if itâs David, Kid?â he whispers. Robby looks back at you and his lip trembles just slightly. The implication is clear. Robby had told you about David and everything that was going on there. You know his worry is valid. âWhat if I just got Jake killed? Killed another person on this fucking day.â
You let out a long breath as you shake your head. Thereâs a lot to unpack there. âOkay. Everything you just said, and all of your feelings make sense and are real and valid and Iâm acknowledging them. Iâm not trying to brush anything off. And I will be there for you whatever happens. But we donât have a lot of time here so weâre going to have to come back and explore this all more if you want. For right now though, you didnât kill Adamson, Michael. Covid did. You had to make a terrible decision nobody should ever have to make, but that wasnât you killing him. And you canât do this to yourself Robby. If and I mean if it was David, it would still be a random act of violence. You canât control that. And right now the patients about to come in and Jake and Leah need you to focus on getting everyone ready for this and then handling this MCI and you cannot do that and be focusing on the what ifs, okay?âÂ
Robby wants to believe you. He wants to believe what you just said but he canât. He just fucking canât. He did kill Adamson. He will have killed Jake. He knows youâre right about the end bit though. He has to shove all of this in a box so that he can focus on whatâs about to happen and patients.Â
You can tell Robby wants to fight you about it but decides not to in favor of very uncharacteristically hugging and kissing you publicly at work before walking away to start implementing protocol with Dana. It leaves you standing there blinking at the wall for a second before youâre able to turn and walk back towards the hub to help.Â
Robbyâs hugging Jack as you walk up. You and Jack exchange a look. You know that Jack knows that Jakeâs at PittFest. You know Jack knows how bad the day is for Robby.Â
When Jack starts unpacking supplies you go in to help him.Â
âHow is he?â Jack asks.Â
You canât help the way you huff. âHow do you fucking think Jack?â
When he doesnât reply you look up at him. Jackâs looking at you with his eyebrows raised and mouth set, edges up just a tiny bit to show heâs not mad, asking excuse me? and how did you just speak to me? without a word.Â
You sigh. âIâm sorry.â You set down what youâre holding and rub at the back of your neck. You see Jackâs smile pull up a little more as he recognizes what youâre doing, what youâve learned from Robby. âIâm sorry. I shouldnât have gotten snippy. Itâs just Jake, you know?â The breath you let out is shuddery. âI donât know if even I could save Robby if something happened to him and Robby couldnât save him, Jack.â
Jackâs face softens and he squeezes your shoulder. âI know. I wish there was more I could say, but I know. Iâm worried about him and that possibility too.â
The two of you start to unpack again. âI just need him to call or text Michael or his mom and say heâs okay and on his way home. I need this to not happen to him today. I mean or ever, but you know. He doesnât need to feel more grief and loss that he thinks heâs responsible for today.âÂ
âAll we can do is be there for him,â Jack murmurs.Â
âYeah. I guess,â you murmur back.Â
Once you finish unpacking and arranging supplies Jack faces you before the two of you walk out to where Robby is starting to gather everyone.Â
âI need you to promise me that if something happens with Jake, if, god forbid, he ends up here and is critical, you will let me run it with Robby. We wonât get him to not work on him, we wonât have time to argue about it with him. We both know that.â Jack nods at you. âSo you need to let me be the one to work with him. You need to let me be the one to convince him weâre not getting Jake back and he has to let Jake go. Because youâre the best thing in his life. You keep him going. So I donât want him associating being unable to save Jake with you. He might work through the emotions it brings up, he might not. But if he doesnât⊠Robbyâs only going to survive something like that with you by his side. He could survive it without me, he could cut me out and lose me and survive. He couldnât survive it without you. So I need you to promise me if Jake ends up here, youâre going to let me be with Robby until TOD is called. Same with Jakeâs girlfriend.â
You swallow hard as you look at Jack. It will be hard for you to stay away. You worry Robby will wonder why youâre not there, why you didnât drop everything to come help him. But you also know that heâs not really going to be worried about that in the moment. Heâll be too focused on Jake. And Jackâs words make your heart ache. Yes, because itâs sweet that Jack knows what you mean to Robby, that he can see it and that Robby has talked to him about it. But itâs more because you recognize the sacrifice Jackâs volunteering to make for Robby and Robbyâs happiness and ability to get through this. The sacrifice in running the risk of losing his best friend, because Jack doesnât have anyone else. He doesnât have a significant other. He has Dana but that friendship isnât like his and Robbyâs.Â
âI think youâre selling yourself quite short there, Jack,â you whisper.Â
He shakes his head to say he doesnât care. âPromise me.âÂ
You hold his gaze for another few seconds before you look away. âOkay,â you nod, âI promise.âÂ
âGood. Letâs go.âÂ
âJack?â He turns at the threshold and looks back at you. âThank you.âÂ
He simply nods and the two of you walk out. You stand by Shen while Jack stands by Robby, the two of them talking things through with the group, explaining how a lot of this is going to work, whoâs going to be where, what to do when different things happen.Â
âCommunicate,â Robby tells the group. âAsk for help if you need it.âÂ
You look at Dana when he says that. Which was the wrong move because you both end up having to stifle laughs. You know itâs inappropriate. You know itâs not funny. And you know that Robbyâs really good at the whole âdo as I say not as I doâ thing, and if what he just said isnât a textbook example you donât know what is. So in the moment his words just strike you as funny, in part because all of this is a situation where if you donât laugh youâre going to cry. Dark humor becomes a coping mechanism. You at least do a good job of stifling it and covering your mouth, can tell you hid it enough and everyone was so focused on Robby and Jack they didnât see anything.Â
Everyone disperses and patients start rolling in. Time loses any real meaning. It could have been forty minutes or four hours. You have no idea. You just know that patients keep rolling in. Never Jake or Leah.Â
Neither of you can decide in your heads whether thatâs a good or bad thing. Whether it means theyâre dead on the scene or that they escaped and are okay and lost their phones in the chaos and are trying to get further away from the scene before they ask to borrow someoneâs phone to call people or are just trying to get home.
Robby and you both glance at Dana every chance you get. She has Robbyâs phone so sheâll know if Jake or Janey get in touch with him. The patients in front of him at least help distract Robby somewhat. That anxiety about Jake never goes away. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. But it goes to the back enough that he can focus and be a good doctor.Â
Patients continue to arrive. In ambulances and cop cars and civilian cars and business vans.Â
But never Jake and Leah.Â
Youâve been at the Pitt a year and a month now. Youâve been an R2 for a month. Youâve already learned a lot. Youâve already had devastating losses and incredible saves. Youâve already thought about staying here past your residency. Youâve already grown close with a number of people. Youâve already grown very close with one person.Â
Michael Robinavitch. Robby.Â
You know how bad it could seem. How bad it might already seem. But you and Robby both know itâs there. Something far beyond platonic. You both feel it. And it only grew over your intern year and is continuing to.Â
You havenât discussed it outright but the energy and attraction between the two of you is so clearly there and youâve seen it in his eyes. When heâs leaning in close to you to help teach you something and his pupils are a bit more dilated than they should be in the lighting. When he sees another man flirt with you and they blaze with what seems like anger but is really jealousy. When youâve just pulled a double together and have hit silly and are laughing so hard youâre both crying at something so incredibly stupid and his eyes crinkle with affection that never appears for anyone else.Â
And Robbyâs seen it in your eyes. When something horrible happens and your eyes find his before anybody elseâs and a little spirit comes back into them just from making eye contact with him. When heâs hiding how badly something with a patient or family has shaken him and turns to find you and youâre already looking at him with soft eyes full of recognition and understanding that make him feel so seen in a way he hasnât felt before. When you bring him some sort of treat, sweet or savory, and pass him a post-it note that you pretend is a note about a patient but really says itâs in the fridge with his name on it and your eyes sparkle with an adoration heâs yet to see you look at anyone else with.Â
Robby knows he cannot do anything, there cannot be anything between the two of you, not even some semblance of anything until youâre an attending or maybe an R4 if youâve already accepted an attending position. Being with you before youâre an attending wouldnât look professionally great for him, but thatâs not what he worries about. He worries how it would look for you, like a young woman sleeping with her boss, how people would at the very least have in the back of their minds that you were sleeping your way to the top or you got given things because you were sleeping with your boss or were eventually offered an attending position because you were sleeping with your boss.Â
Robby knows not everyone would think that. And he knows it absolutely would not be that. But he doesnât even want you to risk it. Not for him. He knows your career and reputation have to be your first priority.Â
Dana and Jack have both asked him about you after observing the two of you together. He assures them that while, yeah, he has some feelings for you, it is strictly platonic between the two of you, him mentoring just like he does everyone else.Â
And so neither of you have ever made any really overt move. Because you both know you canât.
So thereâs been no real discussion about âone dayâ or if there ever could be a future for the two of you.Â
But now that you're a month and a bit into being an R2 and donât have the label of âinternâ and feel like you have a better handle on being a doctor youâve grown more confident. Not over-confident or cocky. Not even close. Just a bit more sure of yourself. Professionally and personally. And so your joking around with and screwing with and flirting with Robby has intensified a little. Itâll continue to do so your entire residency.Â
And while Robby is a bit more reserved, particularly when it comes to flirting and anything vaguely sexual, he still gives it back in his own way. It is overwhelmingly not one sided.Â
Itâs not just sexual. You and Robby are close. You go to each other with problems and to vent. You seek each other out for comfort. And itâs comfort that forces you both to acknowledge it and discuss it, this thing between you.Â
You find yourself sitting on the roof, back pressed up against the wall and legs out in front of you. Youâre technically off. You want to be anywhere other than this fucking hospital. And yet you canât bring yourself to move.Â
You stay quiet and still when you hear the door to the roof open, hope whoever is up here wonât notice you before they leave.Â
Unfortunately for you the person who walks onto the roof has spent the last thirty minutes looking for you. And Robbyâs slightly panicked about it. Youâve seemed off all day. Sad. Overwhelmingly sad. In particular the last time he saw you he felt like you looked⊠done. With everything. With the world.Â
The sigh he lets out when he sees you sitting there on the roof is of relief. You can tell that itâs not irritation or annoyance.Â
âGo away,â you call half-heartedly when he starts to walk over.Â
âGo away? I donât think youâve ever told me to go away before.â Robby tries to keep it light.Â
âFirst time for everything,â you mutter.Â
That pulls a small laugh from him. He comes and sits next to you against the wall. Heâs close, your sides pressing against each other. Closer than the average mentor-mentee would be sitting for sure.Â
You donât say anything and so for a few minutes the two of you sit in silence, each of you focused on the way the other feels pressed up against you. But Robby wants, maybe needs if heâs honest with himself, to know whatâs wrong so he can help you.Â
âTalk to me Kid.â And there it is. That name he only calls you.Â
You shake your head a little and sigh. Robby hates how sad it sounds. He doesnât even really think about his next move. He just reaches out and slips his hand into yours where it rests on your thigh, laces your fingers together.
With the setting and context of why youâre both up here together itâs an incredibly intimate gesture.Â
Youâre not quite sure what to make of it but he initiated it and it feels good. Makes you feel safe and cared for. You look down at your intertwined hands for a moment. His hand engulfs yours with how much bigger it is and itâs so warm. He always runs so warm.Â
âI donât know,â you finally force yourself to say. âI really donât know.âÂ
Robby nods slowly. âJust one of those days?â he offers.Â
âI guess.â You shrug. It might seem like the silence is purposeful but in reality itâs Robby trying to think of what to say. âIâm just tired, I think.â You sniffle and itâs then you realize that youâre kind of teary. âFuck,â you mutter.Â
âItâs okay, Kid. Iâve had these days too. Some days youâre just tired and so it all hits harder, even shit that normally wouldnât make you blink.â Robby rubs what he hopes are soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.Â
âYeah,â you take in a choked breath, âIâm just really fucking tired.â The tears start to fall freely then and you squeeze Robbyâs hand hard like itâll make them stop. Theyâre at least mercifully silent, itâs not like youâre totally sobbing in front of him.Â
But then Robby really notices how much youâre crying and lets go of your hand to raise his arm so you can lean into him as he pulls you to him, your legs shifting automatically to get in a more comfortable position as you lean into his chest. âItâs okay,â he whispers, tilts his head so that his cheek rests on the top of your head.
You shake your head but hold onto him as you cry, relish in the circles his big hand rubs on your back. You donât cry for long. A few minutes. And itâs not loud or even sobbing, itâs just crying. Just blinking out tears that end up wetting his scrub top, the occasional shuddery or hiccupped breath.Â
You donât move once you stop though and Robby doesnât ask you to. Doesnât shift his body to suggest you move. His cheek remains on your head and his hand continues to rub circles on your back. âIâm sorry,â you eventually whisper.Â
âNever be sorry for needing to let something out. It accumulates in this job.â Robby goes to turn his head so that he can kiss the top of yours but he catches himself and stops before he can. âAnd if you donât let it out somehow it can become debilitating.âÂ
You can feel the vibrations of him speaking and it soothes you further. âEverything just felt so shit today. All of the backstories of what brought my patients in today. All crime and abuse. Every single patient.â
âThatâs one of the worst kind of days here,â Robby sympathizes.Â
âI hate that itâs one kind.â
That makes him laugh which makes you smile. âYeah thereâs a lot of kinds of worst days in this job unfortunately.âÂ
You sigh and finally pull away from him. But his hand on your back doesnât let you go particularly far. And when you both lean in a little your faces are close enough to feel each otherâs breaths. âDoes it ever get better?â you whisper.Â
Robby shakes his head slightly. âNo.â
You both watch each otherâs eyes glance down at the otherâs lips. You both lean into each other even more. You both tilt your heads in the opposite direction of the other. You both let your eyes flutter closed.Â
But the second you truly feel the heat of Robbyâs breath against your lips he pulls away. âFuck,â he mutters.Â
You look down, embarrassed and disappointed and guilty. But despite the almost kiss and Robby pulling away neither of you have otherwise moved. Youâre still close together.Â
âIâm sorry.â You murmur.Â
âNo!â Robby laughs, a heavy dose of self-exasperation in it. âDonât be. God, fucking donât be. And donât think I donât want to. That I donât want⊠that. With you. But your name and reputation and career⊠we canât. We canât.â Robby moves his head back so heâs looking at you, uses his free hand to guide your chin up so youâre looking at him. âWhen youâre an attending, okay?â You nod at him and he repeats it. âWhen youâre an attending.âÂ
The sinking feeling in your and Robbyâs stomachs intensifies as more patients come in who arenât Jake or Leah and at the lack of phone call or text. You get your patient in Walshâs hands to be taken up to surgery and change into a fresh trauma gown and step outside, checking on triage but also getting some air.Â
âYou good?â Robby asks, walking up behind you. He doesnât really wait for your answer, continuing to walk towards Shen and Ellis. But the quick press of his ungloved hand against your lower back as he walks by makes up for it a little.Â
You donât bother voicing an answer, nor do you follow him to ask him the same question. You already know the answer.Â
As Robbyâs talking about getting gurneys to the right angle and helping fix them a truck comes squealing in. Shen and Ellis jump up and start yelling out colors. You put on a pair of gloves pulled from your pocket and wait nearby to see if thereâs a red coming. But then you hear it and are hopping up on the tire of the truck to look in the bed. âMichael!â
You yell his name. And Robby immediately knows it has to be Jake. He has never heard you yell his name before and thereâs only a handful of reasons why you would today. He tells himself thereâs a tint of hope to your tone. âJake?â Robby yells as he runs over. But he hears Jakeâs voice and a wave of relief passes through him now that he at least knows where he is and that heâs okay enough for right now to speak.Â
âRed zone. GSW left chest,â Ellis assesses Leah.Â
âJake, are you shot?â you ask him as Robby arrives.Â
âI donât know my, my leg maybe, itâs Leah. Itâs Leahâs blood, she was shot, was shot in the chest and Iâve been putting pressure on it the whole time, and I donât know-â
âThatâs good,â Robby cuts him off, âyou did good, okay?âÂ
You get Leah onto a gurney and Jake out of the truck. He walks in holding onto the side of Leahâs gurney opposite Robby. âGet him a wheelchair!â Robby calls. He notices you walking away while he argues with Jake about getting in the wheelchair and staying there and out of the way. He finds it odd, is a little miffed that youâre abandoning him with Leah and Jake.Â
But youâre speedwalking to Jack. âLeah. GSW left chest. I donât think thereâs any way. It had to have shredded her heart,â you say just loudly enough for Jack to hear as you take the bag of blood heâs squeezing into his patient from him. He nods at you, gives you a rundown on the patient in front of you as he walks backwards towards Robby, turning when heâs finished.Â
âSamira!â you call out to her when you see her look around. âJake.â You flick your head at him. âProbable GSW to the leg. But head to toe. Iâm concerned heâs in shock and itâs masking another injury.âÂ
âGot it.â She nods and is off to Jake, finding a gurney for him to get on.Â
Robby glances at Samira with Jake. âWhat the fuck?â Itâs loud enough for you to hear.Â
âMe, Michael!â you call over to him. âI sent her to do a head to toe. Iâm concerned heâs in shock and not feeling another injury.â
âFuck,â he mutters, giving you a vague nod as he turns back to Leah. He canât believe he didnât think about that either. Thatâs twice now you mightâve saved Jake. First telling him not to call just in case. Now this. Heâs lucky. Heâs beyond lucky to have you. âJake you do whatever the fuck Samira tells you without a fucking word of argument!âÂ
You get the patient you took from Jack stable and up to surgery, start working on the next red to roll in. They stabilize relatively fast and you find yourself squeezing in blood again. But this time your eyes are flicking between the patient and Robby and Jack and the way Jack is having to talk Robby into accepting that Leah is gone. You canât hear any of it but you know thatâs whatâs happening based on the expression on Jackâs face and how he keeps chasing Robbyâs eye contact.
After a minute everyone stills and you watch Robby write on Leahâs card and circle around it. You know he called it. Jackâs back over to you quickly, taking the blood from you this time as you give him the rundown on this patient. âMichael!â you call as you walk over to him quickly.Â
âI have to go tell Jake,â he mutters, shaking his head and turning to look in your direction but not at you. Heâd been watching them wheel Leah into pedes.Â
âDo you want me to go with-â
âNo. No itâs fine, thanks, I got it. Santos was looking for an attending, go find her.â He walks away without looking at you. He canât bring himself to. The shame heâs feeling at not being able to save her, at failing Jake a little too heavy to let him lift his head to look at you.Â
You watch him for a second as he walks away. Your heart aches for him, for the man you love and the news he has to go deliver to a teenager he considers his son in a way. You canât ruminate though. Too many other people need you.Â
So you do what Robby said and go to find Santos. You get involved with her and by the time youâre done you look around but you canât spot Robby. âDana, have you seen Robby?â you ask her as she walks by.Â
âI think I saw him taking Jake to pedes.â She grimaces at you.Â
You nod and make your way there, opening the door and stopping short. âMichael?â
Robbyâs on the floor, knees up to his chest and holding onto his necklace while reciting a prayer through tears. He doesnât acknowledge you. It hurts to see him like this. Itâs physically painful. But he needs you so you set it aside.Â
âMichael,â you say softly as you sit down next to him so that your sides are pressing against each otherâs. âIâm here.â You grab one of his hands, hold onto it harder when he tries to pull it away.Â
âYou need to go back out there,â he sniffles. âThey need you.â He flicks his eyes up at you.Â
Thereâs truth in his words. But thereâs also truth in yours. âNot as much as you do right now.âÂ
âI canât,â he whimpers. âI, IâŠâ He shrugs at you before breaking down in tears again, but this time letting himself fall into your gownless lap.Â
âOkay,â you whisper, running a hand through his hair. âIâve got you.â
âI couldnât save her,â he chokes out, âanother person I couldnât fucking save. Another I killed. Another I let down. Itâs two because Jake. I let him down too and he knows it.â You curl around him as much as you can, move his gown and kiss at his shoulder. You let him have a moment and get it out. Because you both know you donât have much longer than that. âAnd the worst,â he sobs, âthe worst part is it shouldâve been me, Kid. It should be me on that gurney. It was my pass that I gave him for her.â
That last sentence is hard to hear. Because you canât imagine a world without Robby in it. A world where you have to bury him. You want to tell him not to say shit like that, but you swallow down your upset because he doesnât need that right now. You know thereâs very little he needs right now in a sense. He doesnât need a lot of words or you trying to make this better and discuss his feelings and emotions. He just needs to let some of this out.
Robby knows thatâs all he needs right now, too. To let some of whatâs eating away at him out in the one place he feels safe.Â
You.Â
Youâre his safe place. He didnât realize just how much he needed you here with him until you walked in and sat next to him and took his hand. You make it better. You make it hurt less. Just by being here for him.Â
âYou didnât kill Adamson or Leah,â you murmur after a minute. âAnd you havenât let them or Jake down. Your feelings are valid Michael, and I know I canât begin to understand on multiple levels but the way you are feeling makes sense. We can work through your feelings. You can work through them. You can get through this. No matter how hopeless and impossible it feels right now.â You pause, have to swallow hard and blink away some tears. âAnd I wish that nobody was on that gurney. I donât want anyone on that gurney. I wish none of this had ever happened. For you and Jake and Leah and everyone involved. And maybe saying this is wrong of me. Itâs probably selfish. Maybe Iâm a terrible person for it. You can hate me for it if you need to and like I said I truly wish none of this happened and nobody was on that gurney. But I am really fucking glad itâs not you on that gurney Michael because I have no fucking idea what I would do.â You let out a shuddery breath. âAnd I wish we had more time and that I could say more and hold you more and that all of this was over but itâs not.â You scratch at his scalp a little. âThey need us.â He nods and sits up, looks over at you. âThey need you.â
âYeah,â he whispers. Heâs let himself grow numb. Because right now thatâs what he needs to be to get through this right now.Â
âI need you,â you whisper back. He knows what you mean. He knows what youâre worried about. Him taking a walk off the roof or something.
âIâm not going anywhere, Kid.â
âYou promise?â
âI promise.â He nods.
âGood.â You nod and stand up, hold out your hand to him. He lets out a soft laugh as he takes your hand and lets you help him up.Â
You both take a second to wipe your faces a bit. âFind me if you need me, okay?â
âI will,â Robby promises again.Â
You nod and open the door, both of you walking out. Within seconds both of your names are called. Â
âHey.â He grabs your wrist gently before you can go. You look at him with raised brows. He wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. But he canât. âThank you.â I love you.
Robby slips off his stool at the high top a group of you are sitting at and follows you up to the side of the bar, takes his drink with him. You were sitting across from him at the end of the table and the rest of the group was so focused on their conversation he doesnât think anyone even realized he followed you. A little bit he doesnât care if they did.Â
Youâre down near the last two stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get you your drink. Itâs busy so youâre sitting while you wait, wanting to be off your feet after a long shift. Robby setting his beer down startles you for just a second. But you can quickly tell itâs him.Â
By the sweatshirt sleeve rolled up. By the smell of his cologne lingering just enough under all the hibiclens you can appreciate it since you know what it smells like very well by now. By the hand that sets down the beer. By his fingers.Â
You look over at him with raised brows. His glass is still over half full. He came to talk to you.Â
âYouâve been calling me Michael lately.â He keeps his face pretty stoic, for him at least. But you can see the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his beard shift just slightly as the corners of his lips twitch up.Â
âWhat an astute observation, Dr. Robinavitch.â You keep your smirk to a minimum. âI donât have a gold star sticker on me to give you but I can buy you another drink.â Very little in life gives you as much pleasure as screwing with Robby. If you were together like you wanted you could think of at least three body parts that would be added to that list.Â
Your words earn you the slightest raise of his eyebrows. âWhy?â
âWhy what?â Your eyes sparkle with mirth as your drink gets dropped off and you take a sip. Theyâre beautiful sparkling like this. They always are but Robby finds them particularly beautiful like this, when youâre happy and light-hearted and teasing.Â
And itâs just like you to make him say it. Be specific. âWhy do you call me Michael? Whyâd you start?â
âMakes me feel special.â You smirk fully this time. âIt makes me feel special because thereâs a handful of people you let call you it, especially at the hospital, and you actively try and make people not call you it. I wasnât actually sure you were gonna let me call you it at first. Guess being an R3 has privileges. But then again, Iâm the only R3 you let call you it.â
âYouâre the only R3 who has ever called me it. None of the others have tried. And you didnât answer the second question,â he points out.Â
âI mean yeah, I kind of did. I started because it makes me feel special.â He gives you a look and you sigh. âIn part because I wanted to see if youâd let me. In part because, I donât know,â you smile softly to yourself and look down, âI like it. Calling you Michael. It makes me feel close to you.â Robbyâs never seen you look so shy and it rocks him a little. But the shyness fades quickly for you as you look back up at him. âAnd in part because some of the new interns got comfortable a couple of months in and were getting a little too flirty with you for my taste. So you can imagine how smug and pleased with myself I was every time I called you Michael in front of them and you said nothing and every time one of them called you Michael and you had to correct them and tell them it was Robby or Dr. Robinavitch until they finally got the picture.â
âSo jealousy?â He smirks. It makes him feel good in a way, knowing that you were jealous of attention he was getting. That you care about him and want him enough to be jealous. To feel a little possessive. âAnd thatâs why you needed to feel special? A little petty of a response, no?â
âOh Michael,â you chuckle, take a sip of your drink. âYou and I both know you are so not the one to talk about being petty as a response to jealousy. Should I start listing things youâve done in response to me being flirted with?â
âYou really shouldnât call me it.â Heâs grown a bit more serious again.Â
âAre you telling me to stop?âÂ
âNo.â He shakes his head. âAnd I donât want you to. Just⊠You shouldnât.â
âWhy?â Your brows furrow a little in confusion. You donât get why it matters unless he doesnât want you calling him it for a personal reason.
âPeople will wonder why youâre allowed to. It makes,â he gestures between the two of you as you take a sip of your drink but doesnât name anything, âobvious. People will start thinking and seeing it.â
You choke on your drink, coming close to spitting it out all over him. The coughs you get out once youâve managed to swallow turn into laughter. âMichael.â You cock your head at him and give him an incredulous smile. âYou cannot actually believe that me calling you Michael is whatâs going to give this thing between us away. Because itâs been given away. It was given away for sure by the end of my intern year. Nobody asked me anything during my intern year Iâm guessing because I was an intern, but a couple weeks into being an R2 I was getting questions. Dana and Jack never asked you or talked to you about it? Because theyâve certainly asked and talked to me.â
Robby blushes at the realization. Deep down he probably always knew that everyone could see it and heâd just managed to convince himself otherwise. âOf course they did,â he answers your question, not sure how to respond to everything before it. âI just thought it was because they were more⊠perceptive. That they knew me better and could see it in me.â
You have to laugh a little and bite your lip. âYou know, youâre sitting here pointing out that halfway through my third year of residency Iâve just started calling you Michael, your first name, and itâs almost like youâve forgotten you always call me Kid. Only me. Since my first fucking day here. I donât remember the last time I heard you say my first or last name for something other than introducing me to someone, in front of a patient or in some very formal situation. And Iâd like to point out that not a single god damned person has ever heard you call me Kid and then tried to call me Kid unlike with me calling you Michael. I wonder why that is? Itâs almost like it comes across as a little more than a nickname to people.â
He looks at you for a second. âIâŠâ
You hold your hand up and half wave him off. âItâs okay. Iâll stop calling you it, Robby.â Itâs half teasing and half serious.Â
You slide off your stool and grab your drink intending to walk back to the table. Robbyâs quick to slide off his stool and stand in front of you though, blocking your path. He looks at the stool you were sitting on pointedly and then back at you. You follow his silent order and sit and set your drink back down.
He leans in a little closer to you than he was. âI never asked you to stop calling me it, nor did I say you needed to.â He raises his eyebrows at you and bobs his head. âNor do I want you to. I like it when you do. A lot.âÂ
You smirk at his admission and shrug at him. âYou were making an awfully big deal about it.âÂ
âYeah because it, itâŠâ
Youâre genuinely not sure how he wanted to end that sentence. âIt what Michael?â
Robby shakes his head at you. âJust⊠youâre not an attending yet. Maybe when youâre an attending, okay?â
You know Robby isnât talking about you calling him Michael. Isnât saying that you canât call him Michael until youâre an attending. Heâs saying what heâs said since that time on the roof that when youâre an attending the two of you can act on the feelings you clearly have for each other.Â
But the maybe in front of that phrase is new and hits you like a slap across the face, heart twisting as it sinks into your stomach. Heâs never said that before. Itâs never been a maybe and not a certainty. Robby watches your face fall and hurt cloud your eyes. He replays what he said trying to figure out what part it was that hurt you, that made your entire demeanor change. If youâre just that disappointed you didn't change his mind and arenât suddenly a couple or if itâs something else. He canât figure it out. Â
You swallow thickly, tears sting your eyes but youâre quick to blink them away. âYeah.â You nod at him finally. âMaybe. But you know, that assumes I become an attending here, Robby. In Pittsburgh at the very least. And I donât know if I will.â
You slip off your stool, leaving your half empty drink and heading over to the table. You tell everyone the exhaustion has hit and so youâre going to head home. Theyâre sad to see you go but nobody questions much. You cover well enough that if anyone had noticed you and Robby talking they wouldnât think you were hurt by him and running away. Which you know is kind of what youâre doing instead of just asking him about it. Asking him if he doesnât want to try the two of you anymore. If he doesnât want you anymore. If thatâs why itâs a maybe all of the sudden.
Your words throw Robby for a second because he realizes that youâre right, neither of you know for sure if youâll get an attending job at PTMC or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. He realizes the two of you have never had a real conversation about if you want to stay in Pittsburgh, if youâre going to apply for attending spots in Pittsburgh or if you want to go somewhere else. And then he realizes you called him Robby.Â
Heâs not sure what to do with that. What it means. He slides off his stool and goes to look for you at the table, doesnât see you but thinks youâre in the bathroom until heâs told no, you left. He has to play it cool and nod like he isnât internally panicking about whatever the fuck just happened. And he canât just leave because itâll look suspicious. He has to wait a respectable amount of time, ends up leaving when Samira and Langdon do.Â
Robby calls you as he walks home. No answer. He has no idea what to even say to you right now so he doesnât leave a message. He decides to text you instead. Heâs worried about you and whether youâre okay and got home safe. Heâs always worried about you when he doesnât have eyes on you.Â
R - Let me know you got home safe R - Please
You donât reply immediately. Or within five minutes. Or within ten minutes. Itâs almost long enough to make him start panicking and change his direction to walk to your place and see if youâre there. Because of course he knows where you live and has been to your place before. But then you finally reply.
You - I did, yeah, thanks. Was showering. I hope you have a good rest of your night
Itâs the truth. You were in the shower. In the shower standing under almost scalding water ruminating on âmaybe when youâre an attending.â Maybe. When did it become maybe for him? And why? You hate how bad it hurts, the thought of never getting to even try with him. The thought of him not wanting you anymore, of his feelings for you just disappearing. It makes you anxious.Â
And more than anything right now, youâre confused. So fucking confused because heâs still flirting with you just as much and as hard as he always has when you guys are alone together or when youâre close enough to whisper. His hands and fingers still linger just a couple of seconds too long when he passes you something or wrap over yours to show you how to do something. You still feel his eyes on you when you talk to other men, especially if the men flirt with you. You still notice him checking you out sometimes. But now itâs maybe. Maybe.Â
Robby lets out a breath when your message comes through. He debates calling you again to try and talk on the phone but heâs still not sure what to say. He walks into his apartment and drops his stuff, heads to his room and takes his scrub top and pants off before letting himself sit on the edge of the bed and reply.
R - Good. R - Are we okay? You left quickly and without saying bye
After you finish getting ready, you slide into your bed and turn the tv on while you think about what to say to his message. Tone is so hard to get out of texts but you can tell he clearly still cares about you and whatever is between you. Enough to ask if the two of you are okay. It helps your anxiety a little bit.Â
You - Yeah, weâre fine
He believes you but the word âfineâ also scares him. Itâs not good or great or perfect or even normal or like we always are. So he canât let the conversation die. Not when heâs still so unsure about whether you guys are okay or if he did something or if you still want him or if youâre mad at him.Â
R - Are you working tomorrow?Â
You - Yeah but at night. Iâm starting a string of six nights to help cover.Â
Robby knows youâll be with Jack every night. He remembers Jack mentioning a string of six on. Heâs not jealous in a romantic sense. Heâs jealous of the time Jack will get to spend with you and is already thinking of excuses to stay late to be with you. Heâs sad that he wonât see you for more than maybe an hour or so for the next six days.
R - Abbotâs going to try to steal you from days permanently
You type out your reply. Itâs genuine but you know itâs going to seriously fuck with him and that the idea will freak him out and make him scared of losing you. Or will it? You donât seem to know anymore. And that hurts. And hurt people hurt people. But you pause. You erase your last sentence. âMaybe when Iâm an attending.â
You - He just might. Going to bed at 7 in the morning rather than getting up early enough to be at work for 7 in the morning kind of appeals to me
Robby stares at your response, a wave of deeper anxiety passing over him. You canât go to nights. Heâd barely see you. You canât be serious about this.Â
R - Really?
You - Yeah. Why?
Fuck. You are serious about this. And what the fuck is he supposed to say in response to your question? He knows you know why. He knows you know how he feels about you. How he wants you too. How he canât wait for you to be an attending or even accept a position because then he can finally have you.
R - Would be a big loss for day shift. Youâre one of the best
That hurts a little. That you switching to nights would just be a loss to day shift to him. Not a loss to him personally. That he wouldnât miss you apparently.
You - You guys would be fineÂ
R - Iâd miss you. Iâll miss you this week
You smile at him saying heâd miss you and that heâs going to this week. But part of you struggles to believe him after the bar.
You - Would you? Will you?Â
He canât believe youâre even asking that. And because itâs a text he canât hear in your voice whether those two questions are serious or teasing. It hurts him to think that they might be serious.Â
R - Of courseÂ
You - Well I really doubt Iâll end up switching. So youâll only have to miss me for a weekÂ
R - Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
You are so confused by this man. Itâs âmaybeâ and âa loss to day shiftâ but then itâs also heâll miss you and his heart will grow fonder. But it was a good line. And between him telling you heâll miss you unprompted and that being away from you for almost a week will deepen his feelings for you, youâre starting to feel back to your usual self and, while the change has been subconscious mostly, you go back to texting him like your usual self.Â
But before you can reply Robby sends another message. It terrifies him. Heâs not sure how he even worked himself up to asking you. He just needs to know. Needs to know if the two of you are really okay.Â
R - Will you miss me at all?
Itâs an incredibly vulnerable ask. You know it. He knows it. He knows you know it. He needs a very âyouâ answer to it. So you give him one.
You - đââïž
R - Good
You - Did you have to google what that emoji meant? (P.S. You should have added girl after good)
Robby laughs to himself and shakes his head at you. This feels better. Normal. Like you.Â
R - Did you just call me old? (P.S. Stop it)
You smile to yourself. You know he means the stop it playfully. Heâd have said way more if he actually wanted you to stop.
You - đ¶đ€ You - Did you change the font size on your phone?
R - Iâve changed my mind about missing youÂ
You - Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Michael
R - Go to bed, Kid R - Donât R - Donât even think it
You giggle to yourself. Heâs lucky he was so quick to realize and send the âdonât.â
You - Does it make it better if I told you it was going to be daddy and not dad?
Robby groans to himself a little. No. Thatâs what he wants to tell you. No, it makes it worse in a way. It has him half hard pretty quickly.Â
You - Iâve been in bed this entire conversation too, soÂ
You know youâre getting close to Robbyâs limit of this shameless of flirting and overt sexualness. Youâre toeing the line. It hits just right though. It makes him harder. Fully hard. And Robby has to groan to himself a little louder this time because if you guys were together heâd work himself up to sending you a picture of his very obvious erection under his boxers, or facetime you and make you talk him through it. But youâre not together. And youâre an R3. And he canât.
You - Wanna know what Iâve been doing?Â
You wait a few seconds just to let him start to think before you hit send on the picture you took of your tv that shows youâre watching some trashy reality tv show he hates. Or pretends to hate. Because he always knows enough about the last episode to talk to you about it. Maybe he hated it before you, maybe he still does kind of hate it, but now he watches it for you.Â
You - Iâm sure thatâs what you were thinking I was doing. Anyway. Did you make it home safely?
Robby lets out a quiet laugh. Youâre so ridiculous. So perfect for him. Heâs so spectacularly fucked when it comes to you.Â
R - Yes and Iâm going to shower. You go to sleep
You - đđ You - Alright Iâm stopping You - Sleep tight and try not to miss me too much this weekÂ
R - Sleep well, Kid
Robby throws open the door to the stairwell and walks in. Heâs shaking, closer to tears than he wants to admit to himself and he is pretty sure he has never felt this much rage in his life. All of his emotions, all the grief and loss and sadness and guilt have turned into anger.Â
And all because Langdon had to come back and then run his fucking mouth. Heâs trying to calm down, to let go of the anger before he goes back out there and does or says something heâs going to regret because his mind is too clouded with anger. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he paces to try and burn off some of the adrenaline.Â
He replays the confrontation in his head over and over. Eventually heâs struck by one thing in particular. How the fuck did Langdon even know about what happened in pedes? You were the only one who saw him-
Robby stills. It feels like another part of his world is coming crashing down around him. The only way Langdon could have known is if youâd told him. Or youâd told someone else whoâd told him. If you were gossiping about him. About something so incredibly private and intimate.Â
The door to the stairwell gets thrown back open and Robby walks further into the Pitt, head on a swivel looking for you. His jaw clenches when he sees you standing alone and charting. He stalks over to you.
âWe need to talk.â The anger in his voice is palpable. And unlike the last time he sought you out, this time heâs not asking to speak with you. You saw him follow Langdon out so you assume it must be related and Langdon really must have done or said something. âIn here. Now.âÂ
Heâs seething. He leads over to the supply closet and opens the door, walks in behind you, locks the door behind him. âWhat happened?â you ask, brows furrowed.
Robby just stares at you. Itâs like heâs waiting for you to admit something. And you slowly realize his anger isnât at Langdon or that situation or at anything else.Â
Itâs at you.Â
He finally speaks. âI cannot fucking believe you.â
You shrink back at his words and tone. âWhat?â
âThere are a lot of fucking people here who I would expect this shit from or not be surprised when they did it. But not you. Not fucking you,â he spits out. âHow could you? How could you fucking gossip about that?â Robby tells himself the tears forming in his eyes are ones of anger and nothing else. âHow could you betray me like that? I trusted you. I fucking trusted you.â His voice cracks on the second trusted.
To say youâre confused would be a massive understatement. Your stomach twists with anxiety. You donât like any of this. You donât like how he thinks you betrayed him or broke his trust. Because youâre not sure if your relationship could survive him truly believing that. âMichael, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what youâre talking about.â
The confusion written all over your face just pisses him off more. Itâs like youâre trying to be the victim. âNo. Donât do this shit. Donât act like you donât know exactly what Iâm fucking talking about. Donât try to be the fucking victim. The very fucking least you could do at this point is own the fuck up to it.â
You are desperately trying to play your day through your head to see if you can figure out what heâs talking about, figure out what you did that apparently betrayed him and obliterated his trust. You and Dana talked during the day but you never told her anything, just expressed your concern about him and him saying and acting like he was fine. You and Jack spoke while organizing supplies, but again, you just expressed concern about him and how heâd react if something happened to Jake. You said nothing to either of them that they didnât already know because Robby had told them. You have no idea how he could consider any of that gossiping.Â
âYouâre really going to make me fucking spell it out for you, hm?â He bobs his head condescendingly.Â
Tears spill over your lash line and slide down your cheeks because of the way heâs talking to you, the way heâs treating you. Because you know exactly where this conversation is headed if he wonât explain to you and then listen to your response. Because heâs slowly breaking your heart.Â
âYou told someone, Langdon or whoever the fuck else, about what happened in pedes. About me breaking down in there and being on the floor. You just fucking blabbed that to whoever,â he scoffs, a few tears running down his cheeks. Out of anger, yes.Â
But out of heartbreak too. You gossiping about this, you breaching his trust like this, shatters Robby. Because he loves you. Even if he hasnât said it. Heâs stupidly in love with you. He has been. He thought you were the one. That you were it. His end game. He pictured a proposal and a wedding and a house and maybe kids.
And then you broke his heart.Â
âOkay,â you sniffle through some tears. âI know you donât believe me but I have no idea what youâre talking about. I didnât tell anyone absolutely anything about pedes. I never would-â
âWell nobody else came in and saw me so how the fuck else would Langdon know? Hm?â he snarls. âYou fucking gossiped about it. Like it was this casual thing.â He shrugs at you as more tears fall down his face and he glares at you. âWeâre done. Because I will never be able to trust you again. Not with anything like that, with how I feel, to see me when Iâm vulnerable. And I deserve a partner I can trust with that.â His anger slips for a moment, the trembling of his chin and the way his eyes soften into hurt and grief give it away. âWe waited all this fucking time, I waited all this fucking time for you and you do this before we even hit six fucking months?â You can see when the anger returns as his primary emotion in addition to hearing it. âYou threw it all away! And for what. For fucking what? Please tell me. Because I donât fucking understand.âÂ
Youâre at a total loss. You know that it ultimately doesnât matter what you say. Robby isnât in a state of mind to truly hear or listen to anything you tell him and even if he was, he doesnât want to. Not right now at least. He just broke up with you. For, as far as you can tell, nothing. Your heart is shattered just like his. You thought he was the one. You knew he was deep in your heart. He was always there when you pictured your future.Â
It takes you a moment to gather a few thoughts and calm your crying down enough to coherently talk. You clear your throat and sniffle before starting.
âYou very clearly arenât interested in listening to anything I have to say, but Iâm going to say a few things anyway and hope you do listen, or think about them later. I did not tell anybody anything about pedes. I would never. Even now.â You take the briefest pause, worried that if you stop for any longer heâll cut you off and not let you say anything else. âI love you, Michael. Iâve been in love with you for a while now. I never said it because it felt like you werenât ready to hear it or say it quite yet, or I donât know, maybe I mistook things and you didnât, donât love me.â You shrug. âI was so proud of you when I watched you pull yourself together in the face of multiple things, any one of which let alone all of them combined would have kept most people on the floor of that room, and go out and save lives and rally a team and support others and hold others up while you were dying inside. And I really hope one day, that for yourself, youâll be able to learn and speak with Langdon or whoever else you need to and know that I was telling the truth and didnât say anything to anyone and never wouldâve. I loved you, Michael. You were amazing today. You are so much stronger than you think or give yourself credit for. Iâm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself even through all the hurt, Michael.â
âNo.â Robby shakes his head. Heâs too angry and hurt and grief stricken to see anything clearly or even truly process your words. He stoops so that heâs face to face with you and youâve never seen Robby look this angry and hurt. He makes sure youâre looking at him dead in the eyes as he speaks. âNo, you donât get to call me Michael. Or Robby. Itâs Dr. Robinavitch to you.âÂ
He stands back up, unlocks and throws the door open and walks back out. Like itâs nothing. Like he didnât just issue you your very own scarlet letter by telling you that you can only call him by his full name and title, a stark contrast to the intimacy of Michael and even the casualness of Robby that everyone, except for you now, gets to call him. Like he didnât just break up with you. Like he didnât just shatter your heart. Like youâre not even worth hearing out or having an actual conversation with or listening to. Like youâre nothing.Â
Pretty fucking cruel of the world for it to end where it started. In this supply closet.Â
You lock the door behind him and slide down it, give yourself a few minutes to quietly sob, thoughts racing. But you donât want to do this here. You canât and you wonât. You open a pack of gauze and use it to clean off your face, unlock the door and peek through it until you see a good moment and sprint to the bathroom.Â
You press a cold paper towel beneath your eyes. You know itâs probably pointless but maybe itâll help a little. Youâre focusing on thinking about how to get out of here and have the least number of people see you as possible. After a few minutes you toss the towel, splash some cold water on your face and dry off. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Marginally better, you guess.Â
You slip out of the bathroom and look around. You should tell someone youâre leaving. The only two you decide youâll be able to bring yourself to talk to are Jack and Dana. You spot Jack first.
âHey,â you greet Jack as you walk up to him. Janey has arrived and Robbyâs over talking with her so the hub is free of him for now. âIâm heading out.â
Jack looks up at you. To anyone else it would seem like he didnât react. But you know him well enough to see the slightest raise of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips turn down. You have a fake smile plastered on your face and even with the damage control you did in the bathroom, someone would have to be an idiot to look at you and not know youâd been crying. And you know Jack is far from an idiot.Â
You know he knows when his eyes leave you and go to Robby and then back to you. âOkay⊠Weâll probably do some sort of debrief and then Iâm sure some people will go to the park. Robbyâs probably going to be here for a little bit yet.â
âI figured, yeah.â You nod. âThanks Jack.â You spin and start walking away before Jack can say anything further or Robby can walk back over or even look in your direction. You donât want to feel it. You have enough already. His glare at you, livid and disappointed and betrayed and disdained and hurt. And even though you know why heâs with her, seeing him with his ex is hard. Especially when you realize youâre now just another ex for him to be seen with too.Â
You wonder if theyâll bond over their fear for Jake before they knew he was okay and get back together as you walk to your locker. You grab your backpack and take the back way out to limit the chances of anyone seeing you and manage to hit the street without encountering anyone else.
You have a few things of Robbyâs in your locker that youâll have to figure out how to return to him. More things at your place. Youâre going to have to go home and still see him. Have his presence there. Thinking about it makes tears sting at your eyes. But you refuse to break down until you get home, you wonât do it even out here. You need to be home before you break down. About any of it. Robby or the mass casualty incident you just went through. And itâll mostly be about Robby. Probably 99%. Youâre numb to whatever it is you saw and went through, focused on losing Robby.
And as brokenhearted and sad and hurt you are, part of you is mad. That Robby could even think you would do such a thing, much less believe it enough to accuse you of it and end your entire relationship over it without a real conversation. You know it was a bad day for him. Beyond a bad day. Probably one of the worst days of his life. But thatâs not an excuse or justification for how he treated you. He didnât even listen to you, wouldnât even contemplate it being possible that someone else saw him and he just didnât see.Â
Part of you knows that with the day being what it was and what it became, Robbyâs mind was trying to protect himself. That his mind could only see loss and grief and convinced him that you were going to leave him at the end of the day after seeing him like that in pedes. So when he saw an opportunity to control it, to set the terms of losing and grieving you, he took it and didnât ask any questions.Â
Robby does not want to gather everyone and give some kind of debriefing speech, but he knows he has to say something to everyone. Once everyone is gathered he starts talking and as he looks around the group he realizes youâre not there. He tells himself he doesnât care but he absolutely does. Even with how much you hurt him he misses you. He wishes you were here to ground him a little. He thinks he could forgive you, especially if you had an explanation. Maybe you didnât mean to say as much as you did to whoever.Â
But as everyone walks away and goes back to whatever they were doing he slips back into anger because itâs an easier emotion to process and feel at the moment. Youâre an attending now. Itâs your job to be here for things like this. To stay for debriefings. No matter what mightâve happened in your personal life.Â
So when he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out and sees itâs you calling him he rolls his eyes and sends it straight to voicemail on the second ring. And he gets annoyed when you donât leave a message and immediately call him again. This time he just lets it ring until it hits voicemail. Maybe youâll get the hint this time, he thinks. He figures you must because you donât leave a message again and donât try calling him a third time or send a text. Robby gets involved in another case with Jack and one with Mel and doesnât think much of it. An hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye.
When he walks out of one of the trauma rooms and stops at the hub the exhaustion finally slams into him full force. Heâs hungry too, can feel his blood sugar dropping. His ability to regulate and deal with his emotions is going further out the window with both of those developments. Which, he presumes, is why when he sees Langdon walking towards the ambulance bay doors to leave he walks over to him quickly.Â
âWhy the fuck are you still here?â Robby glances down at his watch. âI told you to leave over two fucking hours ago!â
âWhy the fuck do you care? Iâm leaving now.â Langdon doesnât stop walking.Â
Robby stands there for a second watching Langdon walk away. He needs to know he was right. That it was in fact you who told Langdon.Â
âHey!â Robby yells at Langdon and walks to catch up with him. âWho fucking told you?â He knows Langdon will know what heâs talking about.
âIâm not fucking telling you,â Langdon laughs dryly. âUnlike some people here Iâm not going to rat out-â
Robby interrupts him by saying your name. âWas it her?â
Langdon laughs, shaking his head at Robby before he apparently realizes the question is serious. âYou canât be fucking serious.â Robbyâs lack of response makes it clear he is serious. âOf course it wasnât her! She would absolutely never spread shit about you, especially something like that. Someone else saw you in there on the floor firsthand. Theyâre glass fucking doors, Robby!â Langdon lets out an incredulous laugh.Â
Fuck. Fuck. Robbyâs heart drops into his sinking stomach and everything starts to spin, his extremities turning to ice. He knows Langdon is telling him the truth. He knows he monumentally fucked up. He just broke up with you for nothing. He just destroyed your heart for nothing. He just shattered the most precious and important and meaningful person in his life. He just imploded everything for no fucking reason.Â
He just lost the best things in his life, your relationship and you, the person who kept him going. And he has nobody to blame but himself.Â
He vaguely hears Langdon start to say something else to him but heâs taking a deep breath to try to get his dizziness to pass and walking back inside. Robby thinks about how he spoke to you. The words he said. How he barely let you say anything and didnât listen to what he did let you say. Heâs not sure if the two of you can recover from this. Heâs not sure he deserves you giving him a second chance. If anything, heâs more sure he doesnât. But heâll be damned if he doesnât try, if he doesnât apologize and ask for a second chance.Â
His eyes skim across everyone on the floor he can see once heâs back inside. He walks by most of the rooms and doesnât see you in with any patients. Youâre not in the breakroom. Maybe the bathroom. He doesnât want to stand around waiting though.Â
The roof. You saw him go up to the roof this morning because thatâs where Jack was getting some air. Heâd told you he was going up there to talk with Jack. Maybe youâre up there trying to clear your head. As he gets to the elevator and presses the up button it hits Robby. You could be standing on that ledge. You could be thinking about jumping. About disappearing from his life permanently. About really and truly leaving him forever. Nothing left but a grave to visit.
The only thing that stops Robby from turning to give into the feeling and be sick in the trash can is the elevator doors opening. He slips inside and hits the button for the roof, holding the close door button down the entire way up as though it really does anything. He tries to tell himself heâs just projecting his feelings onto you and that he has no reason to think youâre on the ledge.
Robby canât decide whether heâs relieved that youâre not on the roof. Certainly heâs relieved youâre not on the ledge but it means he still doesnât know where you are. He stands in the middle of the roof sucking in huge breaths of air trying to come down from the panic thatâs starting to consume him. Itâs not really working though. Itâs just turning into hyperventilating.Â
âWell youâre almost in my spot,â Jack calls to Robby as he walks out onto the roof. âWhat is going on? She-â
âI fucked up Jack,â Robby blurts out. âI fucked up so so badly and I donât, I donât know if I can fix it.â He slips completely into hyperventilating at this point as it plays in his head again. Him destroying everything in that supply closet.Â
âOkay youâre having a panic attack, Michael-â
âNo, no Iâm not, Iâm not, Iâm just,â heâs shaking at this point, his body and his voice, âI just lost her and I, I, IâŠâ Robby can barely put that three word phrase together.Â
âI promise you that you are having a panic attack, Michael, believe me I know.â Jack steps in front of Robby and catches his gaze. âYou have to follow my breathing, okay?â Robby shakes his head for a second and squeezes his eyes closed trying to fight back tears before starting to nod. âLook at me.â Robby opens his eyes and watches Jack. He watches Jackâs exaggerated breathing and tries to follow it. By focusing so hard on following Jackâs breathing Robbyâs mind stills for a few moments. âAlright, better?â Robby nods at him. âWhat the fuck happened?â
Robbyâs quiet for a moment and turns and takes a step so that heâs not facing Jack anymore. Itâs a little too much. âI broke today. During the middle of it all, after Leah.â Robbyâs voice cracks on her name. âShe found me crying on the fucking floor in pedes and helped me get through it and back.â Robby pauses and lets out a huffed laugh. âFor this to make sense I have to tell you that Langdonâs addicted to pain meds and stealing meds. Fucking, I donât even know what to say about that right now.â He can see Jackâs slightly surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. âAnyway, after everything calmed down Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay and he threw it in my face. What happened in pedes.â
âMmmm,â Jack cringes in acknowledgment. Robby knows he knows where this is about to go.Â
âShe was the only one I saw see me in there. So I assumed she told fucking Langdon or someone else who then told him. That she was gossiping about it.â Robby shrugs and sniffles. âI dragged her into that fucking supply closet with me and lost it. Asked her how could she, told her I couldnât believe her, all while she was looking at me confused which just pissed me off more in the moment. She said it wasnât her but I wasnât listening. I barely let her speak. And then,â Robby pauses, lips trembling hard. âAnd then she said she loves me and is proud of me and she ended her last sentence with Michael and all I said was that she didnât get to call me Michael or Robby. That it was Dr. Robinavitch to her. Then I walked out. I saw Langdon just now and he told me it wasnât her and I know he was telling the truth.â Robby takes in and lets out a big breath quickly, sniffling again and wiping some tears away. âSo I broke up with her and broke her heart for nothing. And Iâve been trying to find her to apologize as if sheâll ever take me back. She shouldnât. I know she shouldnât but I have to try Jack.â Robby looks over at him. âI have to try.âÂ
Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He looks like heâs trying to decide what to respond to first. He runs a hand through his hair and then drops his hands to his hips. âYeah,â he draws the word out. âThatâsâŠâ he sighs. âYou guys might be able to work this out. Itâs very obvious she knows you and how you think, better than you probably, and she is so fucking in love with you,â he tries to give Robby a somewhat reassuring smile, âso, I donât know. You have to try, I agree. But she left, Robby.â Jack glances at his watch. âTwo hours ago.âÂ
âWhat?â Robby whispers, turns back to face Jack. He glosses over everything Jack said to try and give him hope because he canât take any possibility of false hope right now, as much as he knows Jack wouldnât lie to him.Â
âWhen you were talking to Janey. She came up to me at the hub, looking like sheâd just had the conversation you described with you and said she was leaving.â Jack shrugs. âI said weâd do a debrief and some people would probably go to the park after and that youâd be here for a bit yet and she said she figured that and thanks and walked away.â
âDid you actually see her leave?â Robby doesnât know why the thought of you leaving and being at home in your bed sobbing, or having already sobbed yourself to sleep makes it all feel worse.Â
âNo-âÂ
âSo she could still be here.â Robby nods as he says it. âShe could have gotten involved in a case or something and not left yet.â He starts walking back to the elevator.Â
âTheoretically,â Jack agrees. âI think she probably left, Robby. You know her locker code? See if her stuff is there.âÂ
âYeah, yeah I do.â Robby nods as they step in the elevator. âThatâs good, thatâs a good idea.â Heâs praying that your stuff will still be there. That youâre not at home alone crying over him and how he treated you and the end of your relationship. Because he doesnât want that. Heâs not sure anymore if thatâs really what he wanted when he was so sure you gossiped about it.Â
As soon as heâs off the elevator Robbyâs speed walking to the lockers, Jack following behind at a more normal pace. Robby hears Jack stop a few feet behind him as he opens your locker. Your stuff is gone. Youâre gone. At home alone. Just like he didnât want.Â
âMichael,â you pant as his lips move down your neck and to your collarbone where he sucks a bruise into your skin making you moan softly again. âWe should stop, you, you should go home and get some sleep before work.â The hand in his hair tugs at it to get him to look at you.Â
Itâs the night of your first date. After dinner you guys came back to your place. It started with just sitting and chatting on the couch, having another drink. Then you started kissing as you talked. Then you were kissing more than you were talking. Then you straddled him. And now heâs laying on top of you on your couch, bracing himself with his arms to not put too much of his weight on you. You have to have been making out like this for the better part of an hour. Youâve both been shamelessly grinding into each other, pulling little sounds youâve always wanted to hear from the other. Robbyâs painfully hard. Your underwear has to be soaked through or close to it.Â
âWhat?â Robbyâs already halfway gone, mind hazy with thoughts of you. It takes a second for what you said to process. âWhat? No first date sex for me?â he pants softly. You know heâs teasing you, that he truly didnât come here with any expectations and he would absolutely never pressure you.Â
âNope.â You smile at him as you pop the âp.â
Robby groans a little at you as he moves off of you to sit normally on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. âWhy not?â He pushes his bottom lip out at you a little as you climb into his lap. âThat hardly seems fair.â
You give his bottom lip a quick nip before kissing it. âBecause I care about you and this. Us.âÂ
âBut if thereâs already an usâŠâ he trails off with a raise of his brows at you. âAnd weâve been basically dating for four years.â You snort a laugh and give him a look. âOkay, weâve been close friends with feelings for each other for four years. That should count for something right?â He lets one hand rest at your hip and the other in your lap.Â
âIn a way, yes, of course it does.â You run your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a little just to see the way his eyes flutter closed. âI still need to keep you interested though. Make sure you have a reason to ask me out again and keep me around.â
Robby scoffs as he opens his eyes. He gives you a look. âKid, you really think that after pining for you and dreaming about you for four fucking years that Iâm going to finally get inside of you and then just decide Iâm romantically done with you?â
You shiver at his words and the thought of him inside of you. âMaybe I wonât be good in bed or you wonât feel a spark or itâll be flat.â
Robby lets out a breath as he takes your face in his hands. âI can pretty much guarantee you none of that will be the case. Having sex with you is just going to make me more obsessed with you, Kid.â
You nod, give him a small smile and lean into one of his hands. âMaybe I just like torturing you.â A slow smirk pulls onto your face. âYou made me wait four years. And yes I understand and respect and appreciate why. But I still think it means you can take me on a date for every year you made me wait, and then maybe Iâll let you put your cock inside of me, Michael.â
He groans, dropping his hands back to your hip and lap where they were. âSo breakfast, lunch and dinner dates tomorrow?âÂ
You giggle at him, lean in and give him a kiss. You love knowing how desperate he is. It makes you feel good. But while you and Robby have known each other and been dancing around this for four years, thatâs almost what makes you feel like the sex is going to be more meaningful and like for some reason you should wait just a couple of dates. Because you could fall in love with Robby. Because you know you already are starting to fall in love with him. That you have been since you met him.Â
âNo.â You shake your head at him. âBut that was a great try.â
âCan I at least do four days in a row?â he whines.Â
You hum in fake thought for a few seconds. âIâll allow that.â
âGood.â Robby leans in and kisses you again, deepens it when you open your mouth a little for him when his tongue presses at your lips. Heâll never get enough of this. Enough of you. He pulls away just a little before youâre both desperate for air and rests his forehead against yours. âIâm going to make you break before the fourth date.âÂ
You chuckle. âOh, Michael, Michael, Michael.â You pull your forehead from his and give him an almost sympathetic look. âYou should know better than to challenge me by now. Because now that youâve said it, I absolutely wonât let you break me.âÂ
âYeah,â he sighs the word, âI was trying so hard to be hot and sexy for you I forgot how incredibly stubborn you are.âÂ
You roll your eyes at him playfully. âYou know you donât have to try, Michael. You just are hot and sexy.âÂ
He just hums at you and squeezes your hip and thigh. âCome on, Iâll go. We both do need to sleep before work.â You sigh a little about it as you get off his lap and stand up. You donât really want him to leave but you know itâs better to do it this way. âIâm gonna use your bathroom before I leave.â Robby kisses the top of your head as he passes you.Â
You get a thought and slip to your kitchen while Robbyâs in your bathroom, quickly getting your bottoms off. You make sure your underwear adequately reflects how turned on and wet you got just from making out with him and then them off and get your bottoms back on. You tuck the underwear in the back of your waistband and pull your shirt down over them.Â
You wait for Robby on the armrest of your couch, smiling at him when he reappears. The two of you walk to your door together. âI had a really great time tonight, Michael.â Youâre smiling so widely your cheeks hurt.Â
âSo did I, Kid. The best time.â Robbyâs hands find your waist again, just holding you gently. âWill you go on a second date with me?â he asks like you donât both already know the answer.Â
âYou know it.â Your smile somehow widens a little more and you have to fight to get it off your face so that Robby can kiss you when he starts leaning down and in. Neither of you are surprised or mad when the kiss turns into making out for a couple of minutes in front of your door.Â
You break apart naturally when you need air and you let your forehead fall to rest on Robbyâs chest. After a second you pull back.Â
âHere.â You grab your underwear from your waistband. You let them dangle off your finger for a second to make sure Robby knows exactly what they are. âTo get you through the night and proof you donât need to try to be hot and sexy.â You smirk at him as you shove them in his pocket. âTook them off while you were in the bathroom. You can feel theyâre still warm. And maybe if youâre good youâll get a pair at the end of each date.â
Robby swallows hard, breathing picking up a little just at the beginnings of thoughts of what he could do with them at home and how youâll know heâs doing something with them and how you want him to. He presses his palm against his pocket. Theyâre still warm like you said. A blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He has to close his eyes for a second as he tries to regulate a bit. âYouâre gonna kill me, Kid,â Robby breathes out.Â
âIâm a doctor, remember? I would never let that happen.â You and Robby exchange soft laughs as he opens the door. âText me when you get home safely please. Or on your way home.â You grin at him.Â
âI will.â Robby nods at you. You lean up and give him a soft and lingering kiss. Itâs simple, but the perfect way to end the night.Â
âHave a good night, Michael.â
âHave a good night, Kid.â
Thereâs very little thought to it. Robby just follows the instinct that tells him to run after you. Doesnât grab his backpack. Doesnât say another word to Jack. He just turns and runs.Â
Robby knows that youâll be at your place. That you wonât have gone to a bar or something. Youâll just want to be alone. He hates himself for it, hates the thought, can picture you curled up alone and crying or sniffling heavily in your sleep because you finally cried yourself out.Â
He books it to your place, comes close to being hit once or twice when making a few unwise crossing decisions. Heâs panting hard by the time he gets to your building and fumbles with his key to get in the main door, taking the stairs two at a time as he hauls ass up to the third floor. Heâs running on sheer adrenaline.Â
He doesnât take a moment to collect himself when he gets to your door, just starts knocking. When you donât answer he uses his key to let himself in. He knows he shouldnât, he knows he should respect you not wanting to see him and wanting to be alone right now, but he needs to see you and apologize and make everything okay again.Â
But your apartment is dark when he steps in. Hot. Like the AC has been off because youâve been at his the past week. Youâd have turned the AC on if you were here. He checks anyway though. But youâre not there. Not in your bed or the shower or on your couch. And so Robbyâs left a sweaty and panting mess as he closes your bedroom door and leans back against it.Â
He tries to take a moment to calm down, get his breath back, some focus back so he can think about where else you might be. But he canât.Â
Instead, Robby slides down your bedroom door, bringing his knees to his chest and starting to cry again. Just like he did in pedes. Itâs more sobbing this time, especially because of how hard it is to breathe, how out of breath he was before he started crying. Some of his tears are for the loss, Adamson and Leah, for his guilt at giving Jake his other ticket and thoughts that it should have been him to get shot and not Leah, for the damage to his relationship with Jake, for Langdon, for breaking down in the middle of an MCI and letting his team down.Â
But most of them are for you. The loss of you. The way heâs already grieving you while praying and hoping and wishing that heâll be able to stop, that youâll take him back and so he wonât have to keep grieving the loss of you in his life. For accusing you of something horrible like that. For yelling at you. For the way he snapped at you all day. The way that, although you were quick to shut it down most times, he took out a lot of his emotions on you over the entire day. Took out his emotions on you who was only ever there for him whenever he needed it. Who kept him together and in check. Who saw only the best in him and stayed. Who saw the worst in him and stayed. Who was proud of him. Who he needs to survive this. And for the way, he realized on his run over as he replayed the scene in the supply closet over in his mind, your tense changed. You love him to you loved him. Love to loved. An audible breaking of your heart. Â
Robby looks over at your kitchen. Maybe it would just be better for you and Jake and everybody if he just disappeared. If he just ceased to exist. He told you he wouldnât. He promised you he wouldnât. But maybe you want him to now. Heâs tired of feeling. Of hurting. Without you he doesnât really have anyone. Jake hates him. Jack and Dana will be fine without him. You have sharp enough knives. He knows exactly where to cut.
His phone ringing pulls him out of it for a second. He sniffles and clears his throat as he moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He knows itâs not you because youâd given yourself a special ringtone and itâs not the one playing.
Itâs Jack. If youâre there at the hospital still with Jack then he wonât. Heâll keep his promise and run back. Apologize. Beg. Grovel. Anything. Everything.Â
âDid you hear from her?â Thereâs no greeting. Robbyâs straight to the question.Â
âRobby, sheâs here.â Jackâs voice is strained. He sounds exhausted, but more emotionally than anything. He sounds pained. Like speaking these words is physically and emotionally hurting him. He didnât sound like that when Robby left. But Robby brushes it all aside.
âOh fuck, okay thank you.â Robby lets out a sigh of relief and wipes at his face. He sniffles again and lets out a little laugh. Because at least he knows where you are. âKeep her there Jack, please. I donât care how you do it, lock her in a room or use restraints, just keep her there. I need to talk to her. I need-â
âNo, not like that,â Jack tells him, voice clipped, still strained. âLike-â Jack gets interrupted. Robby can hear what sounds like a door opening, muffled movement and beeping of monitors. He can just make out a female voice tell Jack âsheâs seizing again.â Jackâs voice is muffled like heâs holding the phone away from him but Robby can hear him say âyesâ to what sounded like the shout of a medication order, followed by Jack yelling âand where the fuck is neuro?âÂ
âFuck. You need to get here, Michael.â Jack rushes it out but Robby recognizes Jackâs tone clear as day because heâs used it so many times himself.Â
Itâs the tone they use when stressing to family members that they need to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible because a loved one is about to die.Â
Tears start to stream down Robbyâs face again because he knows. Robby knows exactly what Jack means when he repeats it. âSheâs here.â
I know. đ¶đ„Čđ¶âđ«ïžđ
I've affectionately called this Robby's No Man's Land. It was named the same way too. Obviously there will be a Part 2 unless nobody wants one. đ I PROMISE that what happened in NML Part 2 will not be repeated in the Part 2 to this.
I hope it was okay and that you were able to enjoy! Again, I really love hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me serotonin and 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 I suppose)! đ
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Hooly fucking fuck this killed me đ
I absolutely need the second part


