fangorl-trash

“Fuck—Fuck! Stop—“ You tried to push against him, but it was no use, the man might as well have been a fucking boulder.

Robby only pushed deeper, making it impossible for you to continue your squirming, “Just don’t answer it.”

“He has a key—“

Finally, his hips halted and you watched, stricken, as the pleasure in his eyes slowly drained and was replaced with steady horror as you both heard the jangle of keys outside the door.

He cursed under his breath as he nearly leaped off and out of you—the sudden absence of him leaving you with a feeling of hollowness.

"Get in the closet." You hissed, hopping around as you tried desperately to pull on a pair of pants. You heard the clatter of keys against hardwood and Jack's soft cursing and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for granting you more time.

"You want me to get in the closet?" Robby hissed back as he tried to collect his clothing, strewn haphazardly around the apartment from when you had been frantically making out and ripping each other's clothes off, "Have you seen my shirt?"

"We don't have time for this," You whispered and placed your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until you were at the closet. You opened the door and unceremoniously shoved him inside it, not waiting for his response before closing the door in his face.

At that same moment, your apartment door opened.

When you started at PTMC as a surgery intern and Jack introduced you to Robby, the infatuation had been almost instant on your end. There was nothing you loved more than a tall, bearded man who could be a little mean. Whenever the ER called down for a surgery resident, you practically jumped at the opportunity, bouncing up and down on your heels as the elevator slowly ticked down, down, down to the Pitt. It had been an effort to finally get him in your bed, more effort than you had probably ever put in for a sexual partner. But it was worth every second.

It was immediately obvious to Robby that you had a chip on your shoulder from being raised in your brother’s shadow, but he was oblivious to your yearnings for an agonizingly long time.

Because your parents had adopted you when Jack was well into high school, he affectionately referred to you as their mid life crisis. Jack adored you, but he was your brother. And so he pushed and teased and mocked your whole life.

So while it was nice that Robby was your type, it was more thrilling to know just how much it would get under Jack's skin to know that Robby was fucking you. Because regardless of your differences, Jack had always been protective of you and you knew he would lose his fucking mind if he knew. And Robby knew it too.

And so, even though part of you wanted Jack to find out, to grant yourself the satisfaction of knowing you had pissed off the unflappable Jack Abbot, most of you was a little nervous to find out what he would do if he found out.

You were running to the front door when Jack walked in, looking at you with confusion as he took in your appearance. Clothes crooked, hair mussed, mascara smudged under your eyelids, face glowing and sticky with exertion.

Slowly a smile stretched across his face, "Are you—Is someone here?"

"No," You said quickly, too quickly, "Just me. What're you doing here?" You hugged your arms around yourself subconsciously.

Jack continued to eye you curiously and held out the Stanley cup in his hand. Your Stanley. "You left this in the Pitt."

You took it reluctantly, "You could've left it at my locker."

"Yeah, I could've, but I wanted to see you. Feel like I haven't seen you in weeks—"

"Well, I'm busy, so. You should've called first." You snapped.

Jack was unbothered though, "Who's here?"

"No one you know. Now could you please get out?"

Jack gave a short laugh, "Right. No one I know. You don't have a social life outside the hospital. You want me to believe you're sleeping with someone I don't know?"

Before you could argue, your eyes caught on a black scrub top to your left, poking out from under the console table in your entryway. You remembered now how you had whined desperately with Robby's body pinning you to the wall until he had pulled it up and over his head.

And Jack followed your gaze, smile only growing when he saw it too, "That's a black scrub top." His eyes went back to yours, "Who are you fucking in the Pitt?"

He was moving towards the shirt and you stepped in front of him, "Jack—"

"Is it Shen?" He was stronger than you, so it wasn't much of a fight for him to push you to the side, "Or… It's not the Whitaker kid, is it?" He made a face as he bent to pick up the scrub top—

When his hand closed around it and he started to straighten to standing, there was a clatter as a badge, forgotten beneath the heap of a shirt, fell back to the floor, face up.

You watched, frozen, as his eyes took in his best friend's smiling face looking up at him from the piece of plastic. You thought from the look on his face, he was probably processing denial for about twenty seconds before he moved to the next stage of grief: anger.

He clenched his jaw as he looked back up to you, Robby's shirt still clutched in his hand. You watched the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and whispered, voice soft as death, "Where is he?"

"Jack," You said softly, "Please don't do this."

He brushed past you, "Robby," He called, "I know you're here, you sick fuck!"

"Jack!" You pulled on his arm to make him face you, greeted with a rage you hadn't seen from him… Maybe ever. His nostrils flared and his jaw was clenched so tight, you started to wonder if he had cracked a tooth.

"I'm an adult," You tried to say firmly, but your voice wavered, "I can sleep with whoever I want, you're being ridiculous."

He only shook his head, "Not him." He said and wrenched his arm from your grasp as he started walking down the hallway towards your bedroom.

You trailed after him, dragging your feet, and watched from your doorway as he looked through your room, poked his head in your bathroom, "You're acting literally insane right now." You said mildly, having resigned yourself quickly to this situation.

Jack ignored you, "Don't be a coward, Robby." He turned back to face you, "Where the fuck is he?"

The closet door creaked open before you had a chance to respond and your stomach sank. Robby was flushed red as he slunk out of the closet, hands clutching his clothes in front of his naked body. His eyes were locked on Jack's as he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear him apologize. You hadn't done anything wrong, and fuck, the sex had been good. Great, even. But that was regret in his voice… and shame. About you.

"Don't apologize to him," You said, aware that you sounded like you were whining, "He's the one who should be apologizing for making such a goddamn scene."

But they both ignored you. Jack flung Robby's shirt at him as if it were a bomb and Robby caught it with a free hand, "I asked you to keep an eye on her as a mentor, I didn't think I needed to specify that you shouldn't fuck her."

"I know," Robby said and looked down. You couldn't believe this.

"She's just a fucking kid."

You want to yell at them both that you're right fucking here. That you're not a kid, despite the fact that you feel your eyes burning with embarrassment. That when Robby again says "I know," you feel the urge to shove him back in the closet or pound your fists against his chest. He didn't think you were such a kid when he was pounding into you just ten minutes ago.

"Jack, I swear. I—I tried really fuckin' hard not to—"

Jack laughed, "Oh, did you? Did she fucking handcuff you to the bed? Is that it? She forced you?"

Robby sighed and shook his head, "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand?" Jack was shouting now, "I've had students crush on me before, so the fuck have you. You shut that shit down! I know you know this! And of all fucking people you—you break your own rules for my sister?"

"I want you both out of here." You said finally, before Robby could say something else that would crush your feelings and your ego. Which they were both doing a spectacular job of at the moment, grinding you like dust beneath their shoes in your own fucking bedroom, "You can both sort out your own fucking issues away from me. And neither one of you better fucking call me."

Finally, Robby seemed to remember you were there and murmured a soft, "Sweetheart—" Which earned him a scathing glare from Jack.

"No," You said and turned from the room, beginning to walk away from them both, "Put your clothes on and go. If the two of you want to talk about me like I'm a fucking child, you can do it outside of my apartment."

You heard Jack come up beside you, "I want to have a conversation with you about this—"

You looked at him and laughed incredulously, "If you wanted to have a conversation with me about it, you should've thought about that before you started running through my apartment like a lunatic on a rampage. Now I want you out." Your voice broke on the last word and you hated yourself when you felt the tears collecting in your eyes.

Jack was looking at you with pleading eyes. He reached for you and you knew he wanted to hug you, but you shoved his arm away.

"Please just go." You said softly, "I want to be alone."

You stood in your living room, arms crossed and faced away from your entryway. You waited until you heard both sets of feet leave your apartment, the door shut quietly behind them.

***

When Jack first introduced you to Robby, his hands affectionately squeezing your shoulders from behind you, you slapping his hands away in annoyance, Robby thought Another Abbot. Cute.

And for a while, it was easy to see you just as cute, adorable in the way your kid sister is. Until he started to notice the effect he had on you.

At first, it was so small, he barely noticed. A slight tremor in your hand if he reached over to guide you through a procedure if your attending wasn't around. Easily attributable to nerves. A low gasp when his body pushed up behind you while working on a trauma, his hands steadying your hips as he moved past.

As a man of empirical data, he felt it was his scientific obligation to test his hypothesis. The null hypothesis being, you didn't have a crush on him and all your reactions could be attributed to anxiety that was professional in origin.

But as the days and weeks passed your reaction to him, to his proximity, to his praise, was constant. And you were starting to reciprocate his touches, his flirting. You even got so bold as to push your ass back into his hips once when he was trying to get by and he was the one who was then flustered, nearly tripping over the tray next to you that Princess had set up.

You had grinned innocently, eyes still glued to the patient and said, "Something startle you, Dr. Robby?"

He had let out an incredulous laugh and came back to your side. He thought it was probably safe to reject his null hypothesis at this point. He was positive you were crushing on him now, and now that he had started feeding into it, you might have assumed he felt the same.

You wouldn't be wrong to assume that. The more he toyed with you, the more he found himself enjoying it. Found himself pushing farther and farther, squeezing your hips lightly as he went by, hand wandering dangerously close to your ass as he moved. Leaning in closer than necessary to murmur instruction, making sure his hot breath caressed the shell of your ear in a way that had goosebumps rising on your neck.

When he wasn't in the ER, almost against his will he found his mind wandering to you when his fist was wrapped around his cock in the shower. The sounds of your gasps, the heat of your body against his, the soothing cadence of your voice when you gave an order and looked to him for approval. More and more often you wormed yourself into all of his fantasies. And later, he'd be sick with guilt, especially if he saw Jack.

Back at your side next to the patient, he watched you closely before he was finally able to tear his gaze away and back down to the patient.

"You do not wanna go down this road, sweetheart." He said darkly, quiet enough that only you could hear him.

"Why's that?" You murmured back.

"I could list a myriad of reasons, chief of which is that your brother would kick my ass."

You hummed, "Probably," Finally, you looked back up at him, mischief glinting in your eyes, "But that's half the fun, don't you think?"

Before he could respond you pushed yourself away from the patient, peeling the gloves from your hands, "Send him up to CT, we'll get an OR prepped in the meantime."

And then you were gone and Robby was stuck feeling like he had lost control of a ship he had thought he was the captain of. But as he blinked his eyes open, it was you at the bow, steering the both of you directly into a storm.

***

Robby closed the door to your apartment quietly behind him, now fully dressed and dripping in shame. It seemed in one afternoon he had likely lost his best friend and also the one other person he had started to feel something for that ran deeper than surface level.

He turned his head to see Jack leaning against the wall, arms crossed and shooting daggers at him.

"Jack, I really am sor—"

But he didn't get the chance to finish his apology because Jack had pushed himself up off the wall and unceremoniously smashed his fist into Robby's face.

With a groan, Robby fell back against your door, his cheek throbbing as he slid to the ground. Through his dizziness, he watched Jack walk away and down the hall without another word.

When Robby brought a hand up to his cheek, he felt the warm stickiness of blood beneath the pads of his fingers and winced.

Perhaps hearing the scuffle outside, your door opened again and Robby nearly fell over, his weight previously being held by the door.

At the sight of Robby on the ground, face already beginning to swell, you sighed, "Get inside."

Robby's knees protested as he stood back up and shuffled back into your apartment. He heard the sound of your freezer opening and closing and then you reappeared in front of him, a cold compress in your hand and some gauze for the blood.

"Sit down." You said quietly, gesturing to the seat at your kitchen table. He watched you silently as he did, but you were carefully avoiding his gaze. He noted the shine in your eyes, the furrow of your brow. You had both known the risks you were taking with one another, but Robby still blamed himself for whatever hurt you were now bearing.

Gently, you dabbed at the small cut at the top of his cheekbone, pausing whenever he winced, "Anything feel broken to you?"

"No," Robby said softly, "I don't think so." He wished you would look at him. Give him any inclination that you didn't hate him too.

You pressed the cold compress to his cheek and when he grimaced, your eyes finally darted to his, "You're lucky." You said slowly, "I've seen him do much worse. I'd go so far as to say he let you off easy on purpose."

Robby laughed, but it turned quickly to a groan of pain, "Doesn't feel like that."

You swallowed, "He'll come around, he loves you."

Robby's hand came up to the compress, covering your hand with his own, "No, he loves you."

Your jaw clenched, "He treats me like I'm still a child rather than a grown woman with agency who can decide whom she wants to sleep with. And then you turned around and did the same."

He sighed, "I don't think of you like that anymore. I just… I understand why he does." When you didn't say anything to that, he continued, "He told me a story once, years ago, when you were still in high school. He said some kid was bullying you and he paid the kid off to leave you alone. But he made sure to tell him that he wasn't above fighting a kid if he didn't follow through on his side of the deal."

You shook your head, "That kid invited me to prom as a joke and stood me up. Jack ended up dislocating his shoulder."

"Kid didn't know what he missed out on. A dislocated shoulder was a kindness, comparatively."

You tilted your head sideways, giving him a skeptical look, "I'm still mad at you." You said softly.

He nodded, "Yeah, it's going around."

You slipped your hand from the compress, stepping back from him to create some space. You didn't trust yourself not to keep touching him, "So are we, um," You cleared your throat, "Are we done now?"

The honest truth was, he didn't know. For himself, he had still been trying to figure out if what he felt for you went beyond the game the two of you had been playing. And he had always suspected you wouldn't find him so appealing once Jack found out. Once the excitement wore off.

He was too old for you, he didn't want to be responsible for hijacking your youth. You deserved someone young and spry who could give you a happy, normal relationship. Not whatever this mess was.

But he was selfish and couldn't close the door completely, "I don't know." He said quietly.

You nodded, your face not betraying any emotion. He hated that about you, that you were so good at concealing what you were feeling. It was only when Jack was here earlier that you had let your guard down enough. He always wished he could get a better read on you.

"You should go," You said finally, "If I know Jack he'll be back here in a couple hours, once he's cooled off."

He nodded and handed the cold compress back to you, but you shook your head, "Keep it. You can give it back another time."

Robby stood and pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left your apartment again.

***

It was months before Robby finally gave in to his desire to feel you. It was the middle of the night on a Saturday and his phone was ringing.

Robby fumbled in the dark for it on nightstand, eyes still closed, before he picked up.

"Robby, it's Jack."

Robby rubbed at his eyes as he sat up in bed, "What's wrong?"

If Jack was calling him from the Pitt in the middle of the night, Robby's mind was already grappling with worst case scenarios: an MCI, a power outage and emergency generator failure, one or multiple staff somehow dead or injured—

"Sorry to call so late, you're just the only one I trust with this." And then, he started talking about you, "She got a flat on her way home from a friend's place and she called triple A, but that could be hours. I don't want her waiting on the side of the road that long by herself."

Robby was already out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder, "You didn't teach her how to change a tire?" He teased.

"Of course I did." Jack said, "I've showed her four or five times. If she's not interested it's like talking to a wall."

Robby smirked, "Tell her to cancel triple A and send me her location."

When he pulled up behind your car, you were leaning against it, phone in your hand. You mindlessly chewed on a nail from your free hand.

Squinting at his headlights, you looked up when he approached. He parked and turned off his lights.

You shook your head as he walked towards you, "I told him not to call you."

"What, you're not happy to see me?"

This pulled a slight smirk from you, "I'm always happy to see my favorite ER attending."

Robby grimaced as he walked to the back of your car, searching for your spare in the trunk, "Don't let Jack hear you say that."

"I won't," You said and bit your lip, "Just like I'd never tell him that I'm your favorite Abbot."

He laughed and shook his head, pulling out your spare tire and the tools he's need to swap it out, "Now what would give you that idea?"

"I don't think you'd roll out of bed in the middle of the night for just anyone, would you?"

"I'm doing this for Jack, not for you." He started to get set up next to the car, "You think you could use the flashlight on your phone to give me some light?"

You obliged him and sat in the dirt next to the car, shining the light towards his hands as they worked, "So you're not happy to see me?" You threw back at him, playfully deepening your voice in an attempt to mock.

He spared you what he wanted to be an annoyed glance, but he thought he probably just ended up looking at you fondly, "I don't sound like that."

You tilted your head to the side, "You didn't answer my question."

He sighed heavily and started cranking the car jack in order to lift the vehicle high enough so he could remove your tire, "Didn't I tell you already that you don't want to go down this road with me?"

You squinted up towards the sky, feigning recollection, "And I thought I told you that that only makes it more fun for me."

He silently loosened the bolts on your wheel, choosing not to humor you. Truthfully, he had jumped at the opportunity to see you outside of the Pitt. But Jack had trusted him with keeping you safe. He wanted to honor that trust, regardless of whatever desires were brewing beneath the surface.

"You don't really want me, kid," Robby said as he pulled the flat from your car, "You just want to piss off your brother."

"Why can't it be both?"

He didn't answer that. Swallowed it down and pushed the spare onto the axle, started screwing the bolts back into place.

"Come on, Robby. I've seen the way you look at me. I'm not blind."

He tightened each bolt with care and then rose to standing, started lowering the car jack. Robby couldn't look at you, felt he was on the verge of crossing lines he absolutely under no circumstances should cross.

And sure enough, when he felt he could trust himself enough to turn back and look at you, he's wrong. He was so very mistaken to trust himself like this. Because you're standing very close to him, a smug look on your face when you notice how nervous you've made him.

"Abbot," He said softly, breath wavering, "Don't push me."

It was a mistake to provoke you like that. You brought your hands up to his chest, placed your palms flat against him, and gently pushed until his back hit your car, "Or what?" You whispered.

Robby's hands were raised by his ears in surrender, but he wasn't going to last very long. He thought you probably already knew how desperate he was by the smug look in your eyes, "If I put my hands on you," He said slowly, "I'm not gonna stop."

"You say that like it's a threat," You fisted the fabric of his t-shirt in your hands and pulled just—Your lips now centimeters apart.

Robby could taste your breath now, and just your proximity alone had his blood pumping between his legs, "It is." He nearly growled.

Your eyes darted down to his mouth and he watched as you licked your lips, then slowly traced a path back up to his eyes, "Are you gonna kiss me, Robinavitch? Or do I have to do everything myself?"

Your words hung in the air, suspended between you, for just a moment. He could walk away. Get back in his car. Go home. Pretend none of it ever happened.

But that was never really an option, was it?

He hesitated for only a split second before catching your mouth with his, his hands lowering to tangle themselves in your hair. You groaned in what sounded like surprise, and he wanted to laugh. You had put on such a good front, but you hadn't really thought he would give in. Clearly, you had no idea the extent to which you had taken root in his brain, in his skin, in his very being.

You had come like a thief in the night, setting traps and stealing his things, and he thought when he followed your clues that he was trying to get you out of his house. The clues had led him straight to you where you had made a home in his attic and instead of kicking you out, he asked you to make room for him.

It seemed that you were just as hungry as he was, pulling him tighter against you, your soft hands wandering underneath his shirt as he sucked your tongue into his mouth. His hands secured to your hips, Robby rolled the two of you until it was your back against the car and he pushed you up, until you sat on the hood.

His lips were frantic as they chased yours, addicted to how soft and pliant they were. He bit down on your lower lip and you moaned into him. He thought he might go insane if he couldn't have you. He felt like at any moment something was going to break the spell and he'd have to take his hands off you and walk away. He wasn't sure he'd be able to, now. His hands impatiently moved up under your shirt, up, up, until he cupped your breasts. His thumbs made slow circles against your nipples and your back arched as you sighed into his mouth—

Your phone was ringing. Still kissing him, you fished it out of your pocket and cracked an eye open to see who the incoming call was from.

"It's Jack—" You said breathlessly.

"Answer it."

"What?" You asked incredulously as Robby kissed along your jawline and up to your ear.

"I said," He whispered, "Answer it."

You blinked a couple of times. You weren't sure exactly what sort of spell Robby had put you under, but surely it was fucking witchcraft that had your thumb swiping across the screen to answer, "Hello?"

Robby started kissing down your neck, to your chest, kissing a line down your shirt to your stomach and you realized immediately what he wanted when he started unbuttoning your jeans.

The fucker made a big show of not wanting to touch you because you were Jack's sister, but it was obvious to you now that he also really wanted to fuck you because you were Jack's sister. You were off limits. Unattainable. Forbidden fruit. And now he wanted to taste you while Jack listened, completely oblivious.

"Is Robby there yet?"

"Yeah," You managed, as Robby pulled your pants down to your knees, "He's swapping out the tire now."

"I tried calling him, he didn't answer."

Robby didn't preamble before his tongue was on you, stroking rough and purposefully along your slit. It was all you could do to stifle a whimper and you felt him grinning against you. Oh, he was gonna pay for this later.

"Yeah… I… I think he left his phone in his car."

You watched as Robby spit on your cunt and then slipped a finger inside you, then a second finger, thrusting so deep inside you, you had to bite down on your fist to stifle the moan that begged to clamber out of your throat.

"You alright?" Jack asked, "You sound weird."

Robby's tongue was swirling around your clit and your eyelids fluttered as the pressure built low in your abdomen.

"Abbot? You still with me?"

"Yeah," You cleared your throat when Robby's tongue flicked over your clit, "All good here. I'll text you when I'm home."

"Maybe I should talk to Robby—"

"My phone's about to die so I really gotta go, Jack—"

"Wait—"

But you had already hung up the phone and it tumbled from your hand into the dirt. Hands now free, you moved them to Robby's head, tugging lightly at his hair as you ground yourself into his mouth.

He grunted into you, fingers of one hand digging divots into your thigh while the other pumped into your mercilessly.

"Robby—" You whined, "—Fuck—Think m'gonna—"

"Go on, baby," He kept his fingers moving inside you even as he looked up at you. Even in the dark, you could see the slick of your juices running down his mouth and beard, "You got it, wanna feel you cum for me."

He latched his mouth back onto your clit, the pace of his tongue relentless against you. Just as you crested the wave of your orgasm, you saw your phone light up in the dirt with another incoming call from Jack.

Your eyes fluttered closed and you whimpered as Robby worked you through your orgasm. On the come down, he kissed up your leg, whispered praises into your skin. He made his way back up to your mouth, his tongue making languid, lazy strokes against yours.

"You're a fuckin' menace," You breathed against him.

He grinned, pushed his head against yours until his nose was nuzzled against yours almost tenderly and you felt your chest grow warm.

"We probably shouldn't have done that," He said finally, lifting you off the hood of the car and back to the ground.

He went to help you pull your pants back up, but you stopped him, "What, you're not gonna fuck me properly?"

The man had just fully eaten you out on the side of the road, but he still had the audacity to blush, "No—I—We shouldn't have—I shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, so you regret it?"

He sighed and leaned his forehead to yours, "No, sweetheart," He said softly, "I don't."

Your stomach fluttered at his admission and you leaned up on your toes to kiss him again, the taste of you still on his tongue.

He moaned into your mouth— And then it was his fucking phone ringing in his pocket and he broke the kiss, reached into his phone to see Jack calling. And the shame and the guilt hit him like a train as he picked up the phone.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Don't you answer your phone?"

Robby turned away from you, not sure he could hold a conversation with Jack while looking at you, "I was swapping out your sister's tire like you asked me to."

"So you're with her?"

"Yeah, why?"

There was a pause on the other line, "She was acting strange on the phone. She seems fine to you?"

Robby ran a hand along the back of his neck, "Yeah. She's fine."

"You'll make sure she gets home okay?"

Robby hung his head, "Of course."

"Thanks, man."

When Robby hung up the phone and looked back over at you, you were smirking, "How's Jackie boy?"

Robby ran a hand over his face, still in quiet disbelief about what he had done. He could lose Jack over this. He didn't have many friends to lose to begin with.

"Get in your car, please. I'll follow you home."

"And then… You'll come inside?"

He shook his head, "No. No, this is never happening again. Understood?"

You nodded slowly, you had gotten fully dressed again while he was on the phone with Jack, "Sure."

"I mean it." He said firmly.

"I know you think you mean it." You said as you climbed into your driver's side, "But you'll find your way into my bed one way or the other."

Already, he was recalling how soft and warm you felt around his fingers. How your walls fluttered around him when you came. The sounds you made, the way you had whimpered his name—

He cleared his throat, and with it, attempted to clear the throbbing that swelled between his legs. He was sure you noticed, though, as he made his way back to his own car. Part of him thought you were likely right, that this was never going to end. That his want, his need to have you would win out in the end. And still, it would probably never be enough.

And so, he followed you back to your house, made sure you got safely inside. His self restraint was strong enough that he made it back to his own home, his own bed.

But you were right. It was less than a week later when he found himself in your bed, cock buried so deep inside you, it made his toes curl to think about it later. Again and again he found himself at your door, begging to be let inside, always saying it would be the last time. You would smirk knowingly as you stepped aside to let him by, because you always knew he didn't mean it.

The days and weeks began to blur, his whole consciousness taken up by you. What were you thinking about, what were you reading, did you eat lunch today, what new restaurants had you tried recently, was your insomnia keeping you up again, did you see that new movie? Did you want to go with him?

They weren't dating, he told himself. It wasn't like that. And you wouldn't want him seriously like that anyway. At least, that's what he told himself when he woke up before you in the mornings. Watched you sleep while the warm amber sun washed over your face. Your lips slightly parted, your light snoring the only sound.

You had somehow wormed your way into becoming one of the most important people in his life, and still, he wouldn't admit it even to himself. Because it was going to implode, one way or the other, and it would hurt a lot less if he convinced himself it didn't mean anything.

He was wrong, though. It was still torture when the glass floor shattered beneath your feet.

***

You had almost fallen asleep on your couch when you heard the tentative knock at your door.

Stretching lazily, you swung your legs over the side of the couch and rose to standing. When you opened the door for Jack, you turned immediately back to the living room without greeting him.

You heard him follow after you and for a few moments, felt him just watch you as you laid back down on the couch and ignored him.

Eventually, he sat down on the couch next to your feet, "I'm sorry… For how I handled the situation earlier." He said slowly, "I should have had a conversation with you about it first."

After a moment, you sat up to face him, tugged your legs to your chest, "Was punching him really necessary?"

He ran a hand over his face and looked away from you, "I know you don't think so, but he's taking advantage of you—"

"Give me a break, Jack, I'm a fully consenting adult—"

"He's an attending—"

"He's not my attending, though! He has no authority over me!"

Jack sighed heavily, "He holds a lot of sway in the hospital. It wouldn't look good for you if this got out."

You laughed incredulously, "Wow. I didn't take you for a slut shaming misogynist."

He made a noise of protestation, "That is not what I meant."

"Oh, okay," You shook your head, "Let me ask you a question then: If Dennis Whitaker slept with the Chief of OBGYN, do you think he'd have to have this conversation or do you think people would just be high fiving him?"

He gave you a skeptical look, "I mean, I don't know in what universe that child with tuberculosis face scores Erin—"

"Jack!"

"Yeah, okay, okay. Point taken." He was still shaking his head, though, "I just—I mean, isn't he kinda… old for you? Why couldn't you just mess around with someone your own age?"

Your laugh rose several pitches, embarrassed to be having this conversation with your brother, "Fuck, I don't know. Why don't we call up my therapist? I'm sure she has many opinions on why I'm seeking out the affections of an older man starting with the fact that my biological father abandoned me and my adoptive one died when I was twenty."

Jack flinched at the mention of your father's death and you immediately regretted it, "Sorry, I… That was too far, I'm sorry."

He shrugged and shook his head, "He was your father too. You're allowed to be effected by it."

The both of you were silent for a few moments. Both you and Jack had been in therapy for many years. You, for most of your life dealing with your feelings about adoption and your biological parents. Jack, since he had returned from deployment down a limb. Again when your father died. Again when his wife died.

Despite it, you had never quite learned how to talk about difficult feelings together.

You clutched your hands together in your lap, bracing yourself before you spoke again, "I know… You feel like you have to protect me… Since he died, but I'm grown, Jack. I know what I'm doing."

Jack huffed a laugh through his nose and stood, "You don't get it. You don't know him. He's a fucking wreck. He's just gonna pull you down with him."

"I thought he was your friend?"

"He is! But right now he's not in any fuckin' position to take care of someone else."

"I'm not asking him to."

He shook his head, "He's just gonna break your heart," He grabbed his jacket from where he'd thrown it over the couch arm and began walking back to your door, "And since you're so grown, I won't be picking up the pieces this time."

When the door closed behind him, you pushed your face into your couch pillow and groaned.

***

It was bad enough now, being on shift with Robby. The whispers about how he had gotten punched, which you ignored. Most people thought he had just gotten too drunk and accidentally ambled into a bar fight. Perlah and Princess, though, had clocked the coldness between him and Jack during shift change.

Nobody had seemed to put it together that you were involved somehow, at least, not yet. But you figured if Perlah and Princess knew enough to sus out that Jack and Robby were fighting, it wasn't that much farther a leap to get to you.

So you tried to avoid the ER as much as possible. Until there was a car pile up on the highway just as the morning shift change was starting to take effect.

"Abbot, I need you downstairs helping them stabilize the patients and evaluating for surgery," Your attending said, "We'll get the ORs prepped in the meantime."

And so you found yourself back in the Pitt, back in trauma one, hands tangled with Jack's in a patient's chest cavity while Robby looked on, frustrated, "Who the fuck decided to do a fucking thoracotomy without consulting me first?"

"Who do you think?" Jack asked, neck tilting slightly as he looked up at you with disdain.

You clenched your jaw, "The patient was hemorrhaging and was about to arrest, he wouldn't have made it to the OR if I didn't open him up."

"You're an intern," Jack said, "You don't do this shit on your own without an attending present—"

"Well lucky for me, then, that you're here."

"You had already fucking cracked his chest before I got here—"

"Would the two of you shut the fuck up and update me on the status of the patient?" Robby snapped.

You sighed, "We stopped the bleeding for now, transfused him with five units of whole blood, he's stabilized enough to go up to surgery."

"Fantastic," He grumbled and started backing out of the room, "Call me if you need me."

Jack huffed and pulled his hands from the patient, "Unbelievable."

"You got something to say, Jack?"

"Not to you," He mumbled and quickly exited the room. He found Robby at Central talking to Dana, "What the fuck was that?" He said without preamble.

"What was what?" Robby said, sipping his coffee as he looked up at the board.

Jack scoffed, "You're not gonna put Abbot in her place for performing a thoracotomy without an attending present?"

Robby slowly slid his eyes from the board to Jack, then back up again, "You seemed to have it covered."

"So residents just need to fuck you to get you to go a bit soft, is that it?" Jack said roughly.

Robby's eyes snapped to Jack and then back around the hub to see if anyone else had heard. Dana was mercifully pretending to be busy with something else, but she had known what was going on between the three of you for weeks now.

"You know that's not true," Robby said firmly, "And she's not my resident."

Jack shook his head, "Fucking semantics. You know, I thought you were better than this Robby."

"Jack, I'm not— We're not sleeping together anymore, okay?" Robby said quietly, "We haven't talked since you—Since you found us. It's done."

Jack laughed, "You don't know my sister at all if you think it's done. She doesn't do casual. She thinks she's capable of it, she's not. So whatever you guys have going on means way more to her than whatever she told you. And she's not done, because I see the way she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching." He shook his head, "If you want it to be done, you're gonna have to break her heart. And then I'll have to break your legs."

Jack stormed off after that, finally packing his things and leaving the ER for the day. Robby was left feeling like shit and confused about what the fuck was going on between the two of you, which he thought was nothing.

"Abbot," He called out to you when he saw you passing not twenty minutes later, "Got a sec?"

You nodded and let him lead you into an empty on call room, "You should never have performed a thoracotomy without an attending present—" You already opened your mouth to argue and he raised a finger to quiet you, "—And you need to remember that you're in the emergency room as a consult. Okay? You don't do procedures without consulting an ER physician first. These are our patients. Not yours, not until they roll into the OR. Understood?"

Begrudgingly, you nodded, "Fine. Whatever. Sorry for saving your patient. Won't happen again."

You reached for the doorknob, but Robby pushed his palm flat against the door, preventing you from opening it, "Maybe Jack was right, maybe you have made me soft."

"What?"

"I am the Chief of Emergency Medicine," He said firmly, "And you are an intern. You don't speak to me like that."

You stared at him for a moment. His arm was raised over your head against the door, his eyes intently focused on your face, and suddenly you felt warm all over. Molten at just the way he was looking at you. Slowly, you dragged your eyes up his chest to his mouth, where they lingered.

"Or what?" You whispered finally.

His jaw clenched and you saw some sort of inner battle going on behind his eyes for a few moments before—

"Fuck it." His hands were on your face, tongue and teeth clashed as he hungrily kissed you, dragging you over to the bed. He was moving so fast, you felt dizzy at the sensations, his hands greedily grabbing at any skin he could, climbing up beneath your scrub top and ripping it up and over your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" He growled against your mouth, "This why you're being such a brat? You miss the way I touch you?"

His hand slipped past the waistband of your pants and without warning, he thrust a finger into you. You moaned into his mouth, kissed him harder, until he added a second finger and you could hardly breathe, your hips grinding against his hand for more, more, more.

But he pulled his hand out of you when he felt you get too close, "Want you to cum around my cock, want to feel how needy for me you are, hm? Can you do that?" He gripped your cheeks between his hand, forced you to look at him, "Can you be a good girl and follow directions?"

His tone was condescending and you felt the warmth build low in your stomach, felt yourself drip into your pants. You nodded, his hand still gripping your face, "That's my girl," He murmured and pressed a long kiss to your mouth before releasing you again, "Turn around for me."

You let him adjust your hips, push and pull you until you were in the perfect position, his cock lined up at your entrance. He slipped just the tip in, sighed when you moaned, and pulled out, "You have to be quiet, baby. Got it?"

You nodded eagerly, pulled a pillow to your face to stifle the sounds you were bound to make. You had never been able to be quiet. He pushed into you fully without further preamble and you moaned into the pillow.

His thrusts were slow and gentle at first, the burning low in your belly intensifying, muscles coiled tight as they readied for release. He started to speed up his movements, and you listened for his sighs, for his stifled moans. You liked to hear how good you made him feel and he was having a hard time being quiet right now.

Eventually, when he felt your walls beginning to pulse around him, he reached around your front, circled your clit expertly with a couple of fingers. It took seconds to push you over the edge and tears ran down your face as his cock continued to pump relentless strokes into you as you rode the high of your orgasm. And then he was cumming as well, pulling out to spill his load on your ass.

The two of you were silent as you cleaned up. You still didn't quite understand what he wanted from you, nor what you wanted from him. Just that not talking to him had been torturous after he had so effortlessly enmeshed himself in your life over the past few months. Just the few days you hadn't seen him, you hadn't been sleeping well. You thought he likely knew from the bruises under your eyes, but he hadn't said anything.

And then you were both back in the Pitt, gone your separate ways. You went back up to the surgery ward as if nothing had happened. Wondered if you had accidentally gotten yourself too deep into something you'd be unable to escape unscathed.

***

You were off work both today and tomorrow and so had decided to hit the bars with a couple of fellow residents. They had been begging you to come out with them for months, but you had fallen so deep into your non-relationship with Robby, you had refused many such invites in favor of sharing your bed with him.

He had taken to completely ignoring you since your last run in, especially around Jack. You tried to ignore the waves of pain that came with that, if only to not give Jack the satisfaction. You still remembered the way he had warned you that Robby would only break your heart and you had stupidly thought you hadn't given him enough of it to break.

But none of that mattered now. You were very drunk and looking for someone decidedly Not Robby to bring home. You were sitting at the bar top. Your friends said they were just gonna be a sec, they're running to the bathroom. A tall, handsome stranger asked if he can buy you a drink, and you smiled and nodded, welcomed the flirting. Tried desperately not to compare him to Robby.

And that was the last thing you remembered before you were waking up in the back of an Uber, your friends talking in panicky voices on either side of you.

"What'ssssss happeninnnn'?" You slurred, your tongue felt heavy.

"Don't you worry, girl." One of your friends squeezed your shoulder, "We're bringing you back to PTMC. You might need Narcan."

Narcan? Why the fuck would you need—?

"I can't believe it," Your other friend was going on, "We leave her alone for two seconds and bam! Roofied. Insane."

Oh. Well, that explained the time loss. They must've been worried whatever illegal rohypnol you'd been dosed with was laced with fentanyl. You had heard of such a case once or twice before, but it was rare. No real reason to lace a date rape drug with fentanyl, the people they were meant for weren't exactly repeat customers. But, better safe than sorry you supposed.

Jack was gonna lose his shit. And, oh, it was still early, wasn't it? Robby might still be passing off patients, making sure his staff went home for the day. Fuck. You weren't in the mood to see him like this.

"Stay here," Your friend said as the Uber pulled into the ambulance bay, "I'm gonna go grab a wheelchair."

Stay here, you thought as you stared at the car ceiling. As if you had a choice. Everything was spinning.

You heard Jack's voice first, it was him who pulled you from the car, placed you gently into the wheelchair. Then you heard Robby's voice, sounding agitated as he spoke with your friends. Something about why the fuck would they leave you alone like that and what kind of friends were they anyway.

Well, that was probably the last time you were going to be invited out you supposed.

"I don't think you need it," Jack's voice was soft in your ear, "But I'm gonna give you some Narcan just in case, alright?"

You tried to nod, but it just made you dizzy and you closed your eyes instead.

The next time you opened them you thought a decent amount of time must've passed. You felt a bit clearer, a little less fuzzy around the edges. There was an IV in your arm and you were on a gurney.

Robby was sitting by your bed, a tired look on his face as he looked over your chart.

"Robby?" Your voice came out rough and he looked up at you.

"Hey," He said gently, immediately putting your chart down. He took one of your hands in his own and smiled at you, "How're you feeling?"

You swallowed and it felt like cotton going down your throat, "Not so great." You managed, "Still pretty dizzy. Can I have some water?"

"Yeah, of course," He already had a water bottle on standby by your bed, held it to your lips while you took long, swallows.

"Thank you." You said when he took it away, "Did—Did I test positive for fentanyl?"

"No," Robby was playing mindlessly with your fingers, you found it quite soothing, "No, just rohypnol."

Finally, you realized what time it must be and frowned, "Shouldn't you be home by now?"

He shrugged and smiled, "Didn't wanna leave you."

Your face softened marginally and you felt tears burn at the backs of your eyes, "Robby, what are we doing?" You asked quietly.

He brought your hand to his mouth, pressed gentle kisses to your fingers, "I don't know. But I know I don't want it to end."

Jack was watching the two of you from across the way, hesitant to interrupt. He watched the way Robby absently played with your fingers. The way he smiled at you. The gentles kisses pressed to your hand. The way he had told off your friends earlier for leaving you alone, the same way Jack may have if Robby hadn't done it for him. And he was beginning to realize that maybe he had sold his friend short. Maybe Robby all this time had felt just as much for you as you had for him.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat to announce his presence and Robby immediately dropped your hand as if it had burned him.

"Welcome back, kid." He gave you a smirk, which you returned, "You were real out of it for a while there. You can talk again?"

You nodded, "Complete sentences and everything."

"Great. Well, since we didn't find any fentanyl in your system, you're free to go whenever you feel like it. Should feel 100% back to normal in about 24 hours, likely less." He turned his head to his friend, "Robby, a word?"

Robby stood and followed Jack out of earshot of you, "Look, I'm sorry about the hand holding, I—"

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

Robby's mouth hung open for moment, having been interrupted mid thought, "I—What do you mean?"

"Do you care about her?"

"Of course I care about her—"

"You're sitting at her bedside, you're holding her hand, you're looking at her like if anything happened to her you'd set this hospital on fire and then yourself."

Robby scoffed, "I think that's an exaggeration."

Jack gave him a lopsided grin, "Look, I know I've been… difficult. But it's only because I don't want to see her hurt. But I care about you too," Jack swallowed, "And if you care for her the same way she cares for you, if it's gonna make both of you happy, then…" He shook his head, "You have my blessing."

Robby stared at Jack blankly for a moment, "You're— You're serious?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah. But I meant what I said about breaking your legs if you break her heart, so. Just… Weigh your options carefully." Jack smirked and slapped Robby's shoulder affectionately. "Could you drive her home tonight? Make sure she gets back safe?"

A slow smile spread across Robby's face and then he pulled Jack in for a hug, "You got it, brother."

"What was that about?" You asked when Robby had come back to your side, looking giddy as he grinned from ear to ear.

Robby shook his head and picked up your hand again, pressing it to his mouth, "You ready to get out of here?"

You frowned, "With you? In front of Jack?"

He nodded, "Yeah. And I'd like to stay the night, if that's okay with you?"

You tilted your head to the side, "What did he say to you?"

Robby shrugged, "I'll tell you later. Just trust me?"

You frowned, but nodded, "Sure, okay."

And then Robby led you out of the emergency room, your hand in his. He didn't pay any attention to the stares or whispers and when he kissed you while you were still in the parking lot, you let him.

On the drive back to your apartment, you dug out your phone to text Jack: Thank you.

He hearted the message and just sent back: Whatever it looks like, let yourself be happy. It's what dad would've wanted.

Unhelpful. Your brain chastised, and you shook off thoughts of her. You weren't here for her, you were here for the boy.

"Can I help you?" A woman with short blond hair, secured neatly in a clip at the nape of her neck looked at you with vague annoyance. She had an iPad in her hands and glasses slid low on the bridge of her nose.

You cleared your throat, "Yes, I'm looking for a Liam Anderson? He was supposed to be admitted to psych for an eval, but I'm told he's still down here waiting for a bed."

The woman eyed you skeptically and looked down at her iPad, "You a relative?"

"Uh, no, I'm with the state. I'm here on behalf of the public defender's office."

She looked back up at you, "I don't think it's really necessary for the kid to be seeing a lawyer right now, do you?"

"I'm not a lawyer, I'm a psychologist." You slid your ID across the counter and watched as she picked it up, "His lawyers asked me to come."

She slid your ID back to you, "Again, feels unnecessary at this stage. Come back when he's been admitted to psych."

She began to walk away, but you followed after pocketing your ID, "It's really, really crucial that I get as much time with him as possible while they're preparing for trial. And before the psychologists upstairs really dig their teeth into him."

"Kid, I gotta tell ya, I really don't have time to argue with you. We don't do visitors for patients down here unless they're family. Now, please, I have work to do—"

"Dana," A tall, bearded man with deep creases by his eyes and darker circles underneath, stopped directly in front of the two of you. He held a small coffee cup in his hand and a stethoscope was draped around his neck, and his gaze traveled to you, "Who's this?"

"The latest pain in my ass," Dana grumbled next to you, but you didn't falter. You were used to being unwanted when trying to gain access to a client, "You deal with her, she's from the state, trying to visit a patient."

The man in front of you frowned at that, but before he could ask clarifying questions, Dana disappeared and you reached a hand out to him to introduce yourself.

His hand was warm and rough as it wrapped around yours, "Nice to meet you," He said, sounding anything but, and he began walking, "Look, I'd love to figure out why you're here and why you're harassing my nurses, but frankly I don't have the time so I'd appreciate it if you could just locate the nearest exit—"

"I'm just trying to do my job the same way the rest of you are. If you could just direct me to my client, I'll do my evaluation very quietly and it'll be like I was never here."

He stopped walking again and turned to face you, sighing, "What is it you're here to do?"

You handed him your ID, "I'm with the public defender's office, I'm here to see Liam Anderson."

He looked from your ID up to your face, then back down again before handing the piece of plastic back to you, "The kid that killed his girlfriend?"

You bit back a sigh, "He is being charged with the murder of a fellow student, yes."

He nodded, "You don't think he did it."

You shook your head, "I'm not a cop, that's not my job."

"Then what is your job?"

"I'm a forensic psychologist. My role is to spend as much time with the client as possible and determine if, in my professional opinion, he seems capable of committing such a crime."

He tilted his head slightly, "You work for the public defender's office, you said?" You nodded, "So what happens if you think he did it?"

This time, you did sigh, "Again, I'm not in the business of evaluating guilt—"

"Right, but what happens if you feel he is capable?"

You shrugged, "The defense just won't call on me to testify. They'll probably find another psychologist who disagrees with me. It's just an opinion, it's not really evidence. But juries find it compelling, nonetheless."

He scratched the back of his head, "You really shouldn't be here, it's family only down here—"

"You won't even know I'm here, I swear."

He seemed to weigh his options before sighing heavily, "I assume giving you what you want will be the easiest way for me to get back to work?"

You smiled, "Undoubtedly."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching you closely in a way that was beginning to give you hives and made you feel like you had something in your teeth, "What if I told you he's been really polite and just like any other twelve year old that rolls through here?"

You cocked your head to the side, "Has he interacted with any women while he's been here?"

He hesitated and pulled back, as if surprised by the question, "Uh, no, actually. I don't think so."

You shrugged, "Then I'd say it's mostly irrelevant, but I'll keep it in mind."

He started walking again and gestured for you to follow, "I really don't think he did it."

You were growing annoyed at his fixation on the duality of the situation, "Don't know how many times I have to say it—"

"I know, but you have to have an opinion, right?" He stopped outside a room labeled "Behavioral Health 2". You could see Liam through the window, sitting at a table, doodling on a notebook in front of him.

You watched him carefully, tried to make out his scribblings on the page, but his arm covered most of it from your view, "It would be difficult to do my job well if I was always wondering about the truth," You turned back to him, "It'd be irresponsible for me to have an opinion. Besides, this is the first time I'm meeting him."

You remembered that he said he was really busy before, but now seemed more interested in you, still eyeing you curiously, "Have you ever gave an opinion that you regretted? Later found out the person was guilty?"

You blinked at him, "Are you asking this in a judgmental way or are you genuinely curious?"

"Curious. Must take a toll on you, no?"

You shrugged, "I don't spend day in and day out with a client. I base my opinions on the few hours I get every so often when they're prepared to see me. There will inevitably be clients who are very good at putting on a show. I can usually spot them, but I'm not perfect, I have biases like everyone else."

He raised his eyebrows, "You've really rationalized all this. Detached yourself from it."

You gave him a tight smile, "I don't deal in feelings, I deal in behavior."

Finally tearing his eyes from you, he nodded to the security guard who stepped to the side so he could open the door, "If you need anything, ask for Dr. Robby."

You exhaled in relief and ducked under his arm as he held open the door for you, "Thank you."

When the door fell shut behind you, the din of the emergency room quieted significantly and you felt yourself straighten.

"Hi Liam," You said gently, "Your lawyers asked me to come talk to you today. Would it be alright if I sat down?"

You gestured to the seat next to him and after a moment, he nodded.

"I brought you orange soda," You fished the bottle you had gotten from the vending machine upstairs out of your bag, "Your mom said it's your favorite."

He stared at it for a few beats before reaching for it, "Thanks," He whispered, his voice rough from what you assumed was nonuse. Or, perhaps overuse, if he had done a lot of screaming and crying. But Dr. Robby's evaluation suggested otherwise.

You looked over his drawing as he drank the soda. It was some doodles of what looked like classmates playing baseball. Some sketches of the nurses and doctors, even the security guard outside the door. Nothing out of the ordinary for a twelve year old. They were all quite good.

"Do you know any card games, Liam?" You said, before digging into your bag for your deck.

***

Robby peaked over to BH2 every so often, growing more perplexed every time he did. The two of you were laughing and playing and sharing snacks. For hours. He doubted you were discussing anything of substance.

So when you finally came out of the room, he was right behind you. As you turned to walk away, you walked right into his chest.

"Christ—!" You swore.

His hands steadied you, but he otherwise acted unphased, "So what's the verdict, huh? He's a normal kid after all? Didn't kill the girl?"

You scoffed and walked around him, "Once again, I'm not here to determine guilt."

"You don't think he could do it, though, right? Otherwise, what the hell have you been doing with him all day?"

You opened your notepad and began jotting things down while standing at the hub, a crease between your eyebrows as you did. Robby idly wondered what you'd do if he smoothed it out with his thumb.

The truth was, he found you fascinating. All hard edges until you got alone with the kid and then you suddenly softened. Now he started wondering which was the act?

"I have no idea, Dr. Robby. I am building rapport, surely you've heard of it?" You looked up at him with a snarky smirk on your face, "I'm just trying to get him to trust me right now so he'll remove whatever mask he's wearing."

"That seems… awfully manipulative."

You sighed tiredly. It wasn't the first time you'd been accused of being manipulative and it wouldn't be the last. But it felt awfully hypocritical coming from a doctor, "Really? You're telling me you've never been a little manipulative with a patient to gain their trust?"

Robby scoffed and shook his head, "This is hardly the same thing." He jerked his thumb towards BH2, "That's a scared kid you're taking advantage of."

"I'm trying to help him. If anything he tells me hurts his case, no one else will ever hear it. Except his lawyers." You flipped your notebook closed, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment to get to. I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched you walk off, a bit dazed, and when you were nearly out the door it hit him that you said you'd see him tomorrow.

You'd be back for the boy. He looked back over at BH2, noticed the boy was smiling a little to himself now as he doodled in his notebook.

He really shouldn't have let you sit with him today and now you'd be back again tomorrow to break the rules again. He sighed heavily and headed back into the fray, deciding that that was a problem for future Robby.

***

Like clockwork, there you were again at the hub the next day. Your outfit a variation of the previous day, another button up, another pair of slacks, another pair of loafers. Neat and tidy. Not a hair out of place.

You were the psychologist, but Robby got to thinking that the way you dressed probably said a lot about you. You cared a lot about how people viewed you and clearly you wanted them to view you as controlled, careful. He watched you bite your lip as you were jotting down some notes and thought you were probably a bit of a perfectionist, perhaps a touch anal.

Even so, he'd be remiss if he didn't acknowledge that he found you absurdly pretty. He loved the way you bit the pen cap between your teeth and the furrow of your brow when you were concentrating. He still longed to smooth it out with his thumb.

But all of that was irrelevant, because you couldn't be here again today.

He walked up to you and leaned against the counter, "You can't see him today."

You didn't look up from your notes, "This again?"

He leaned on his forearms, knowingly testing the limits of how close you'd let him get before you moved away. But still, you either didn't register his proximity or it didn't bother you. "What're you writing anyway? You haven't seen him yet today."

"I can't take notes while I'm seeing clients, makes them nervous and it makes them start assuming what I think is important. They'll start tailoring their answers accordingly. So I have to try and remember everything important and write it down afterwards. I just came from another client."

He hummed, "So, guilty or not guilty?" You looked up at him with disdain and he chuckled, "I'm just joking. But seriously, I can't let you see him again. You shouldn't have seen him yesterday, you have to wait until he gets admitted upstairs."

You chewed the inside of your cheek, "How is he today?"

He sighed heavily, "He's antsy. He's been stuck in that room for days. He's been pacing and banging his head against the wall, not enough to injure, but…" He shrugged, "He's a kid stuck in that little room, no privacy. He's probably scared."

You angled your head around Robby so you could get a good look at BH2 and Liam was standing at the window. When he saw you, he smiled shyly and waved and you smiled back, "If you let me see him, it might help." You said, "I brought him snacks. Besides," You turned back to Robby, "He's seen me now, he'll probably throw a real tantrum if I leave without speaking to him."

Robby slowly shook his head, a smirk on his face, "You're a real piece of work."

You smiled back at him and he found himself a bit proud of the fact that he had made you smile.

"So you'll let me see him?"

His eyes searched your face as he pondered. It had gone fine yesterday. And you were right that he'd probably throw a fit now if you left. He sighed, "You can stay for one hour. One. That's it."

Your smile widened until he saw teeth, and fuck, he found it unbearably charming.

"Thank you, Dr. Robby." You said cheerfully and closed your notebook, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and headed to BH2.

"Thought you said you weren't letting her in again?" Dana said at his side, both her and Robby watching as you walked into Liam's room.

"I wasn't," Robby said and scrubbed at his face, "But he saw her and got excited. I figured it would be worse for him if he didn't see her."

Dana looked up at Robby and then over to BH2 again, where you were handing Liam a candy bar and a bag of chips, "This is the kid they're saying murdered a twelve year old girl. You know that, right?"

Robby shook his head, and gestured to you and Liam, "Look at him. You really think he did that?"

Dana shrugged, "They must have some pretty compelling evidence if they arrested a kid."

"Cops fuck up all the time."

"Yeah," Dana said and looked back down at her iPad, "Not with white kids."

She walked off before Robby could reply. His eyes trailed back to BH2. Liam had grown at bit more somber since he last looked, eating a chip slowly and intently watching you as you spoke. He still thought maybe the cops had got it wrong, but what if Dana was right, what if they hadn't? And he had allowed you to lock yourself alone in a room with a killer?

In the end, he shook it off. You were fine yesterday and you'd be fine today. But he did check up on you more frequently than he had the day before. Just in case.

***

While Liam settled in to eating his chips, you looked over his doodles. More of his classmates, more of baseball. You pointed to them, "Are these your friends?"

He nodded while he chewed, but didn't elaborate, "You must miss them." You pushed, but he only shrugged.

"The doctors said you seemed a bit lonely earlier. That you were pacing around and banging your head on the walls."

He paused to look at you for a moment, then he looked back at his bag of chips, "They think I'm crazy," He said softly.

"What makes you think that?"

He shrugged again, "They locked me up in here. Won't let me talk to anybody."

"They let you talk to me."

"That's different."

"How so?"

He was silent for a while, avoided eye contact, then, "Can we play cards again?"

You kept your facial expression neutral, "If we have time later. I'd like to talk about your friends for a bit."

He sighed, as if this was an inconvenience to him, "There's nothing to say."

"Surely, there's something you could say about them. Their names, for starters—"

"I'm not gonna give you their names."

You tilted your head to the side, "Why not?" He stared stubbornly ahead, a scowl on his face, "Liam," You said gently, "I'm not gonna get them in any trouble. I work for your lawyers, I'm not the police."

You waited and waited, but he was still silent. "What did you guys do together?"

"I don't know," He said finally, "Hung out. Played video games. Walked around the neighborhood."

"Are your friends all boys or were there girls who hung around as well?"

He gave you a funny look, "No, just boys."

"Why'd you look at me like that? Like I said something strange?"

"Well, I'm not a fag." He said fiercely.

You paused a moment. "You think hanging out with girls would make you homosexual?"

He huffed, "Not, like—Like as friends. Boys don't hang out with girls as friends unless they're gay. Which I'm not."

You nodded slowly, "So what sort of circumstances would hanging out with a girl not be considered 'gay'?"

His cheeks grew red and he looked down at his hands, "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I wanna play cards."

"Okay," You said, "Once you answer that last question we can play a round of cards."

He threw himself back in his seat and sighed, "I don't know, like, going on a date with a girl."

"So, romantically, then is okay?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

"So if the girl was your girlfriend she'd be okay to hang out with your friends?"

He frowned, "If I had a girlfriend, why would she hang out with my friends? She's not gonna fuck them."

It could mean nothing, you told yourself. There were plenty of young boys who had been influenced by podcasters and Youtubers that sold an alt right, toxic view of masculinity. The idea that all women were good for was fucking and as they got older, hosuework. It didn't make him homicidal. It didn't necessarily make him violent at all, just probably misguided.

But it was clear he wasn't going to tolerate this line of questioning for much longer. It was too soon to push him too hard.

"Let's play some cards." You said eventually, and fished the deck out of your bag.

***

You were waiting for the bus at the front of the hospital, still diligently scribbling notes from the session into your notebook.

"Hey," Robby strolled up to you, a helmet in one hand and his backup over his other shoulder, "You left before I could ask you how it went."

You shrugged, "Fine."

"That's it? Fine?"

"I really shouldn't be telling you anything," You said, "Anything he tells me in there is confidential."

He scoffed, "He's my patient."

You closed your notebook and looked up at him, forcing a smile, "It went fine."

He watched you for a moment longer before breaking your gaze and running a hand over his beard, "I can't let you back in there with him if you come back and I don't care if he screams about it. So, do us all a favor and don't come back."

You hummed, "Okay, I'll take that into consideration."

He laughed, "There's nothing to consider. I won't let you back in there with him. It's dangerous and puts the whole hospital at risk. You'll only waste everyone's time if you come back."

You sighed, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Robby."

He huffed a laugh through his nose. Unfortunately, it didn't bother him as much as it should that he'd be seeing you again.

"You'll be waiting forever for the bus, why don't you let me give you a ride home?"

You eyed his helmet skeptically, "An ER doctor that rides a motorcycle?" You looked up at him, "You'd think you'd know better."

He smirked, "You should see the number of us who smoke."

You gave a short laugh, "Appreciate the offer, but I'll wait for the bus. I don't like the noise."

"I have an extra helmet, it'll cover your ears and muffle most of the sound."

You narrowed your eyes at him as you considered. Was he flirting with you or was he really just trying to be nice? You always had a hard time telling the difference.

Finally, you sighed, "Alright, fine."

And so that was how you ended up on the back of Dr. Robby's bike, dopey looking helmet snug on your head. You punched your address into his phone, which he then clipped to his handle bars so he could see the GPS.

"You alright?" He asked after getting on the bike in front of you.

"Yeah."

He turned to look at you, "You look scared."

You swallowed. No point in lying. "I am a little, yeah."

He took your wrists and wrapped your arms snug around his waist, "It'll be fine," he said, "Just hold on."

It had been a long time since you had touched anybody and the warmth of his body against your skin almost alarmed you.

"You ready?" He shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Yeah," You shouted back.

Immediately, you nearly fell backwards as he pulled out onto the street and sped up. You had been trying to keep some semblance of distance between your bodies, but you quickly found you were unable to keep your grip unless you plastered yourself to his back. So that's what you did, arms tight around his middle and chin resting on his shoulder.

The streets passed in a blur and you were struck by the intimacy of this whole thing. It hit you hard when, stopped at a red light, you went to lean back to give him space and instead he had placed his hands over yours where they rested on his stomach, ran his thumb gently over your skin, keeping you pressed to him. It shocked you to find that you wished you could take your helmet off so you could press your ear to his back and listen to the steady thrum of his heart.

You had been annoyed with him just hours ago, but you were so goddamn touch starved a single motorcycle ride had you wondering what you wouldn't do to keep holding him like this.

But you didn't live very far from the hospital and it was all over too soon. Parked outside the home you were renting, he didn't stop you this time when you pulled your hands away from him.

As you got off the bike, he wrapped a hand around your wrist to steady you, which was lucky because once on solid ground, you lost your balance.

"Thank you," You said, pulling the helmet off your head and handing it back to him. From the smirk on his face, you thought your hair likely looked a little insane. You tried to comb it down with your fingers.

"You're welcome," He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head, "Tomorrow, though, we're back to being rivals if you show up in my ER again."

His tone was light and playful and you smiled. Strange. You couldn't remember the last time someone had pulled a smile from you so easily. You had always been hard won and harder to keep.

"Yes, sworn enemies. Noted." You said and started backing away towards your house, "See you tomorrow." You said, and mock saluted him before turning away.

***

Robby was trying desperately to keep his temper in check while Gloria walked behind him, periodically taking bites from his protein bar as he took stock of the ER, his residents, his med students. Gloria and her constant buzzing in his ear was not helping matters.

"Robinavitch," She said exasperated, "Please tell me you did not leave a young woman, unsupervised, in a room with a murderer."

"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

She huffed behind him, "Sure, but we still treat those charged with violent crimes with caution. Especially in this hospital. If anything happened to her, do you know the lawsuits—"

"He's a kid, Gloria. And besides, Ahmad was right outside the whole time."

"We were instructed by the police not to leave anyone alone with him in there."

Robby sighed and turned around to face her, "You know, Gloria, none of this would be happening if there was a bed upstairs for him in psych. Instead he's been waiting down here for days with staff that are ill equipped to handle his needs—"

"I didn't come down here to talk about boarding, I came down here to tell you that if she comes back here today, you need to have security escort her out. Am I understood?"

Robby waved her off as he saw Dana trying to get his attention, "Yeah," He called out behind him, "Got it."

And he thought he did. He had every intention of telling you you'd have to leave if you showed up. And show up you did, but he didn't find you at the hub this time. He found you already in BH2.

Well played, he thought mildly to himself as he walked over to the room and knocked on the door.

You looked up and when your eyes met his, he thought he saw you fight a smile.

"Hi." You said as you stepped outside the room.

He shook his head, "You gotta go."

You nodded, "I'm almost done, I just need another, like, thirty minutes."

He scoffed, "How long have you been here?"

You shrugged, "I don't know, almost two hours I think."

He scrubbed his face with his hands and then laced them behind his neck, "You have to go, now."

You tilted your head, "Come on, Dr. Robby. You don't mean that."

"I really, really do—"

"Robby—Incoming MVA, ETA six minutes." Dana shouted as she walked by.

Robby started backing away, "—And I don't have time to argue with you, so please, please just get out of here. I don't wanna tell you again."

And then he was gone. You stared after him for a moment or two, debating whether or not you should listen. But you were finally really getting somewhere with Liam and if you left prematurely it would derail all the progress you'd made.

So you walked back inside BH2 and shut the door behind you.

"What was that about?" Liam asked as you sat back down.

"Oh, nothing of consequence," You folded your hands in front of you on the table, "So, where were we? I think we had made our way back to talking about your friends and your girlfriend."

"Don't have a girlfriend."

"Chloe wasn't your girlfriend?"

At the mere mention of her he balked, "No." He said finally.

"Was she your friend, then?"

"I told you, no. I'm not friends with girls."

You pressed your lips together, "Well, I guess I'm just confused because from what I understand she was with you and your friends the night she died."

"Who told you that?" He asked, voice raised.

"Is it not true?"

He pulled at his hair in frustration and looked away from you, "It's true."

"So you're not friends and she's not your girlfriend, but somehow she ended up at the arcade with you and your friends."

"We just ran into her, that's all. Her and her friend Julia. Julia's dad came to pick up Julia and Chloe was gonna walk home. So we offered to walk her."

"That was nice of you."

He shrugged, "Her house is like a block from mine."

"So you walked her all the way home that night?" He nodded, "Did you talk at all? On the walk to her house?"

He frowned, "What?"

"I'm just wondering if there was any conversation."

"I—No. No."

"So you three boys walk Chloe home—"

"It wasn't the three of us."

You frowned, "What do you mean?"

"My friends, their houses were in the opposite direction. It was just me and Chloe."

You hoped the shock wasn't evident on your face. The official interview from both the police and his lawyers said that all three of them walked Chloe home, and the last they saw her, she was alive. You weren't allowed more information than that. You knew there was some sort of physical evidence they had on Liam, but knowing too much impacted your objectivity. So you didn't know the specifics. But Liam admitting that it was just him and Chloe on that walk… That was something he hadn't said before, you were sure of it.

You cleared your throat, "Okay, so just you and Chloe. And you walked in silence the whole time?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. We talked about school and stuff, I think." He scratched his head impatiently, "I don't really remember."

You nodded, "So you get to her house, what happens next? You keep walking and she goes inside?"

"No, I walked her to the door." He cleared his throat and you watched as a flush crept up his neck, "And then, we um, and then we—we kissed."

You raised your eyebrows, "You kissed Chloe when you dropped her off?"

He shrugged and smirked, and you got the impression that he was trying to show off. That maybe he was trying to impress you. And a knife of ice cold dread wedged itself in your stomach, began to spread through your veins.

"She kissed me," He said confidently, "Even put her hand on—on my dick."

You swallowed and looked down at your hands, "I'm sorry, Liam."

He frowned, "Why're you sorry?"

"Well, because Chloe's dead. It must be hard knowing that you shared such an intimate experience with someone who's no longer here."

He paled considerably, "Why the fuck would you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"That—like—she's—"

"Dead?"

"Shut up!" He shouted suddenly.

"I worry you're not grasping the permanence of the situation—"

"I know what it means to be fucking dead."

"Then why are you so angry with me?"

He shook his head in frustration, "Fucking cunt," he said under his breath.

You opted to ignore his swearing, "What happened after she kissed you?"

He shrugged, looking down at the table now, avoiding your eyes, "I went home."

You inhaled deeply, "Liam, are you being honest with me?"

"Yes."

"Okay," you sighed, "Because I just find it strange that someone who, by your own account, was not your friend, not your girlfriend, not someone you really even talked to very much at all would initiate kissing you the first time you're alone together."

"Oh, you find it strange because you think I'm ugly, is that it?" His voice was raised again, "You find it hard to believe that a girl would want me?"

You shook your head, "I've spoken with your teachers, some of your classmates, I've spoken with Julia. All of them say the same thing, that Chloe didn't like you very much. In fact, in some cases, actively avoided you."

"Well what the fuck do they know, huh?" He stood up so abruptly, he knocked his chair over and began pacing the small room.

"Liam, I need you to sit down—"

"They weren't fucking there that night!"

"—Sit down. Now."

"Nobody was fucking there! Just because you think you're too pretty, too good for me doesn't mean she thinks that! You think you know everything— Well you don't fucking know anything!"

He was very close to you now, leaning over the table and screaming in your face while you remained seated, face impassive.

"Liam," you said quietly, "Please sit down."

He was breathing hard and after a moment pulled his face away from yours and turned his body away from you. You allowed him a few moments to calm himself before he righted his char and sat down again.

Your stomach was roiling with nausea now and you thought you might be sick. He was lying about the kiss, you were sure. But you thought there was likely a bit of truth there, based on his outburst. You wondered if he had walked her to her door and tried to kiss her then gotten angry when she rejected him.

You saw flashes in your mind of the crime scene photos. The friendship bracelets she wore on each arm nearly up to her elbows. The butterfly clips she used to decorate her hair.

If you couldn't get it together, you were going to vomit. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and looked back at Liam.

"This is our last session."

"What—?"

"—I've really enjoyed our time together, getting to know you—"

"No—Is this because—Because I shouted? I didn't mean to—I'm sorry!"

"No, we always had a limited amount of time together, Liam, you knew this when we started—"

"But it's only been three days!" His eyes were wet and frantic when you looked at him, much like a panicked dog.

And despite it, despite what you knew your evaluation would say, what you knew he likely had done, you felt a little sorry for him.

Here was a twelve year old boy whose whole life was ruined, now, because of a split second fit of rage. You remembered how his mother had described him to you. Sweet and precocious most of the time, but quick to anger. Rage that could bring down a whole house. But up until this point, had never harmed anyone.

And you wondered if that rage hadn't been so normalized, hadn't been packaged as just the average prepubescent mood swings of a boy, if someone would have gotten him help sooner. If it would've made a difference, if he would've ended up here anyway, in this room with you.

If Chloe would still be here, bracelets jangling up her arms as she walked to class with Julia.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. You felt your own emotional resolve fraying as you did.

Liam was screaming incomprehensibly at this point. The security guard came inside, added his own shouting to the ruckus. Liam was throwing things; the snacks you gave him, the soda, his notepad, anything he could get his hands on. You thought you heard Robby shouting something as well.

You ducked out of the room, walking fast towards the ambulance bay. You barely registered that Robby was following after you, your name falling from his lips as you stumbled outside.

***

Robby was very irritated as he followed after you. You had very nearly gotten assaulted after he had asked you to leave. You were both exceptionally lucky the situation hadn't escalated further.

As he followed you out to the ambulance bay, he intended to shout at you about how irresponsible you had been and how you better not ever step foot in his ER ever again. However, once he stepped outside, he saw you vomiting in the bushes nearby and he immediately softened.

"You okay?" He asked, soft and gentle behind you as you pulled back, wiping your arm across your mouth as tears streamed down your cheeks. He thought it must have been the most out of control he'd ever seen you.

And you laughed softly at his question, shaking your head and lowering yourself to the ground.

Robby lowered himself to the ground as well, crouching in front of you. You stilled when he took your face in his hands, scanning for injury, "Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head again, gently pushed his hands from your face, "No, he didn't touch me."

"What happened?"

Your hands trembled as you rubbed them over your face, impatiently pushing the tears from your skin. Robby waited as you seemed to gather the words, stopped himself from taking your hands in his to stop the tremors.

"I'm not usually this… effected when I make an evaluation," you sniffled, "but he's just a kid and… And I thought maybe they had gotten it wrong. I wanted them to be wrong about him and I let myself get too wrapped up in it and then when he—" You recalled the smugness in his voice when he lied to you about Chloe and a fresh wave of nausea overtook you. You closed your eyes, took a slow, deep breath, "It's not helpful, but sometimes I imagine if I had met some of my clients before… If it would have made a difference?"

Your tears were beginning to choke you and you swallowed them down, "It sucks being the person called in after the horrific tragedy has already occurred because all I can do is try to create a narrative for what I think went wrong. And what good does that do anyone? That little girl is still dead. He's still gonna be locked up at least until he's eighteen. And what sort of irreparable damage will that do to his psyche?"

Robby cleared his throat, "I see patients all the time," he said slowly, "who die under my care and some of the time, I have to let them go with the knowledge if they had just gotten to me fifteen minutes or a half hour sooner, I would've been able to save them." He shrugged when you looked at him with bloodshot eyes, "It doesn't make the work you're doing irrelevant. We can still learn from your evaluations what to do better next time so things like this don't happen again."

You tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, "Why're you being so nice to me? I snuck in here without your permission and then stayed after you told me to leave."

He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "Guess I have a soft spot for women who break the rules."

You managed a small smile and said, voice hoarse with tears, "Thank you, Dr. Robby."

"Just Robby," he said softly, then, after a moment, "please."

Your face softened, relaxed just marginally and he felt a bit of relief. He hadn't realized how worried he'd been, seeing you fall apart like this, until that moment.

"Thank you, Robby."

He felt his heart constrict in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips and thought he was probably done for. And you were going to leave today, probably never to come back. But that was fine. It was probably for the best.

So he just nodded and rose to standing, reached a hand down to you to help you up as well. Then he watched you walk through the parking lot, briefcase held tight to your chest like a shield as you went to stand at the bus stop, eyes still wet and furrow still between your brow.

***

You haunted Robby's thoughts for the rest of his shift. He kept replaying in his head the way you had said his name, like a prayer of salvation. He needed to get you out of his head.

So when the shift was over, he headed to a bar for a beer or four to drown out thoughts of you. But when he walked inside, he stopped cold over threshold.

You sat at the bar, laptop in front of you as you typed furiously, a pen held between your teeth as you looked down at your open notebook to the side of the laptop every few moments.

Robby couldn't decide as he stood there if this was luck or a disaster waiting to happen. Romantic relationships for him usually fell in the latter category.

He didn't believe in fate, but if ever there were a time to, he supposed this might be it. So eventually, he forced his feet to take him to the seat next to you. You didn't look up or even seem to notice him until he was pulling out the chair.

And when you did, eyes coming up to meet his, your face lit up. "Robby," You said, and you sounded happy to see him.

"I swear I'm not following you." He said as he sat down, "You bring your work to the bar?" He asked, nodding at your laptop.

You nodded, "Sometimes. If it's a hard case and I'm writing up the evaluation alone in my house I can…" you swallowed, "well, I can go to a dark place. So it's better if I'm around people."

"What're you drinking?" He nodded to your glass that was now just melting ice, "I'll buy the next round."

"Oh, I don't drink," you said, and flagged down the bartender, "It's just a Coke."

You turned to the bartender before Robby could say anything, "Vinny, could you get Robby a drink and add him to my tab?"

Vinny nodded and smirked at you, "Your tab, huh?" he said, voice teasing, "Should I add another Coke to your tab as well?"

You returned his grin, "Yes, please, and don't forget the cherries."

The bartender shook his head and then turned to Robby, "What can I get you, pal?"

Robby was now looking between you and the bartender, feeling a pained sort of jealousy that he felt ashamed of feeling. "Uh," He managed finally, "Just a Stella Artois is fine if you have it?"

Vinny nodded, "You got it."

Robby turned back to you, "So you don't drink tonight or you don't drink ever?"

"Ever." You said, eyes traveling over the screen of your laptop.

"You don't find it difficult to be sober in a bar?"

You shook your head, "I've never drank so I don't have the temptation."

Vinny slid a glass of Coke to you with a comical number of Maraschino cherries sitting on top of the ice and then slid Robby's beer to him. Robby nodded his thanks and looked at you in amusement as you popped a cherry onto your tongue.

"You've never drank?" You shook your head, still with a cherry in your mouth. "Not even a sip?"

You swallowed your cherry, "Alcoholics run in my family. Both my parents were alcoholics and it ruined their lives. I didn't really need any other convincing after that, but when I started getting older and my friends all started to experiment, my aunt sat me down. She very… gently explained to me that while many of my friends could drink and would likely never have a problem, my genetics make it so that one drink for me is the equivalent of willingly swallowing a bomb that I have no way of knowing how to defuse," you shrugged, "And maybe the timer won't ever run out, but my family history makes it more likely that it runs out as soon as I take that first sip." You took the straw of your Coke between your lips, "So I don't drink."

You had said the whole thing nonchalantly, but he tilted his head to look directly in your eyes, "I'm sorry about your parents."

You shrugged, "It's okay. My aunts, Vinny's moms, took me in when my parents couldn't take care of me anymore. I would've been way more messed up if it weren't for them."

Robby raised his eyebrows, "Vinny is your… cousin?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I should've mentioned. He owns this bar, it's why I come here to hang out. He gives me all the Cokes I want for free."

He felt a bit ashamed at the relief that pulsed through him at this revelation. "I was raised by extended family as well, my grandmother. You're right I think, in a strange sense, that we were lucky. I don't know what my life would've looked like if she hadn't been around."

You gave him a sad smile, "I'm sorry about your parents," you said, parroting him earlier.

He nodded and took a sip from his beer, "Thank you."

"I hope I didn't make too much of a mess for you earlier. I can be… impulsive sometimes. I'm told."

Robby chuckled, "You're told?"

You shrugged, "I think I'm impulsive a reasonable amount of the time. Others disagree, as I'm sure you would about today."

You had made quite the mess for him. Gloria had come straight downstairs to rip into him as soon as she had heard and it had taken him a good ten minutes to calm her down and assure her there had been no injuries and that you wouldn't be filing a complaint.

However, Liam's behavior had finally gotten him moved straight up to psych, so in the end Robby thought you had inadvertently done him a favor.

So he shook his head, "I can also be persuaded to make rash decisions on behalf of my patients. So I don't really blame you. But if you had gotten hurt, we'd probably be having a very different conversation."

You hummed, "You probably wouldn't have been so happy to be running into me tonight then, huh?"

He smirked and shook his head, "I think I'd be hard pressed to find any situation where I wouldn't be happy to run into you."

You laughed nervously and looked down at your drink, "The feeling is mutual."

Even off the clock, you were still attempting to be put together and fight any kernel of chaos. He recalled the way you had tried to comb down your hair after getting off his bike the other day and he had silently wished you wouldn't. He thought the only time you had ever thrown caution to the wind was probably within your work. Like he had seen you today, falling apart.

He wanted to see you lose control again, but because of him. He remembered how hesitant you had been to wrap your arms tightly around him on his bike and he instead wanted you to be clawing at him to get closer. He yearned to have you say his name again, but desperate and wrecked, begging for release only he could give.

"Any chance you want to get out of here?" He asked softly.

Your eyes snapped to his, then to his hand, wrapped around his beer bottle, "With you?" You asked, eyes still on his hand. He didn't miss the way you bit your lip when he lightly tapped his fingers against the bottle.

"With me," he confirmed and your eyes locked on his again.

He wasn't sure what sort of internal debate you were having, but you were silent a few moments as you looked him over. You glanced at your laptop where your evaluation sat, unfinished, and then sighed, "Okay, but it has to be my place."

Ah, a way for you to maintain control. Fine. He'd allow it, for now. Besides, it would give him the chance to get to know you better and get to know the sides of you you didn't allow anyone else to see.

"Deal," he said and stood, pulled out his wallet while you packed up your things. He knew you said to put him on your "tab" but since your cousin owned the bar, he had a suspicion that just meant he was drinking for free. And even though it was just one beer, he didn't like that. So he placed a ten dollar bill on the table and walked you out of the bar.

***

You felt borderline insane as you walked him to your door. It wasn't that you hadn't had a one night stand before, you had had plenty. But you had sworn them off more than a year ago after the last guy you brought home took a piss in your kitchen sink. Said he couldn't find the bathroom in the dark. Never mind the fact that you intentionally left a nightlight on in your bathroom for this very purpose and that he would've had to walk by it to get to your kitchen sink.

Regardless, you had decided you didn't want strangers in your house anymore and you certainly would not willingly enter a stranger's house. So your sex life had taken a very dramatic pause ever since. And maybe that was why you hadn't needed much convincing to bring Robby home. He certainly didn't seem like the type of man who would piss in your sink.

But also, something about him had you wondering if the second he touched you, you would combust on the spot.

Or maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe you really were just that desperate to be touched by anyone at all.

When you opened your front door, you smiled immediately at the sound of your Russian Blue making herself known and reenacting her usual routine of meowing at you in distress until you scooped her up.

Which you did, and she nuzzled into your chest, "We have a guest, Zelda, so you have to be on your best behavior." Her purrs rumbled through you as you scratched behind her ears.

"You have a cat." Robby said, and reached to pet her as well, fingers brushing yours.

"Is that a problem?"

He shook his head, "No," he smiled as he scratched under her chin and was rewarded with her purrs, "Zelda, like, Zelda Fitzgerald?"

You chuckled, "No, Zelda like the video game. The Legend of Zelda."

His eyes went back up to yours and he smirked, "You play video games?"

You shrugged and bent down to let Zelda go. Now that she had yelled at you for leaving and you had apologized with scratches, she would disappear probably until Robby left. She never much cared for the men you brought home.

"Helps me decompress. I've played them since I was a kid, but less often now. I don't always have the time." You turned to look at him and found him watching you, a fond look on his face, "What?"

"Nothing," he said again, still that slight smile on his face, "It's just that I walked into your house moments ago and I feel like I've already learned more about you in the last minute than I have in the last three days."

You nearly physically flinched at that, but turned away to hide your facial expression from him. This wasn't exactly what you had brought him here for, to get to know you. You just wanted to get laid by a seemingly normal, handsome doctor.

"Do you want something to drink?" You asked as you headed towards the kitchen, "I don't have any alcohol but I have some seltzer or soda?"

"Sure," he said, "I'll have a seltzer."

As you rummaged through your fridge you heard him call from the next room, "Is it okay if I play something on your record player?"

Despite your earlier thoughts, that you didn't want him to know you, you were endeared that he seemed to be losing himself in your things, in your house.

"Go ahead," you called back and grabbed two cans of seltzer.

By the time you got to the living room, he was playing All the Ways by the Secret Sisters. You were pretty sure it was the same record you had left in the player the last time you used it.

"You know this song?" You asked, as you handed him a seltzer.

He shook his head and popped open the can, "No, I was just curious what you were last listening to. I like it, though," he said as the verse progressed.

You sipped your seltzer and feeling his eyes on you, turned to look at him, "What?"

"Dance with me?"

You laughed, "You don't strike me as the dancing type."

He shook his head, "All this song calls for is swaying, which I can manage." He put his seltzer down on your coffee table and held out his hand to you.

You rolled your eyes, but decided to humor him, placing a hand in his and the other on his shoulder. You hoped he couldn't hear the way your breathing quickened with his hand to your back and your chest pressed to his.

And it was nice, being held and swayed while the record spun. This was quickly becoming something other than what you imagined a one night stand to be. Perhaps a bit more romantic than you were explicitly comfortable with. Usually, by this point your pants were already off, but you thought maybe it was a symptom of his generation that he was taking his time.

As the song swelled and ebbed, you felt him press his face into your hair, then to the skin just below your ear. And suddenly you were tilting your head to fully expose your neck to him, like a dog rolling over onto its back in submission. He moved his mouth slowly and sensually along your neck, hands squeezing your hips gently as if to anchor you to him in case you were to pull away. He needn't worry about that, though, because you were on another plane of existence entirely, drowning yourself in the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth against your skin, the drag of his beard along your throat.

Until you couldn't take it anymore and you were pulling his face up to meet yours so you could kiss him properly. He kissed slowly and purposefully, like there was no rush, like he didn't want to waste a single second. When he slid his tongue against yours, he moaned into your mouth, and the sound sent a thrill through you. So much so, that you began kissing him harder, faster—

But he only brought his hands up to your cheeks, held your face firmly as he reasserted the pace, until it was devastatingly slow again. You whined, which was very unlike you, and you felt Robby smile against your mouth, "It's okay, baby," he said softly, "there'll be time for hard and fast later. Just humor me for a while."

Oh. Oh, you really liked the way he said that, the way he'd called you baby. Another thing you weren't used to, being directed, being told what was going to happen. It was usually you calling the shots and another man's poor attempt at dirty talking you. You once pressed a hand over a man's mouth to quiet him enough to allow you to come as you rode him into oblivion.

But Robby's voice was both rough and smooth, soothing. You thought he could probably murmur the most vulgar words in your ear and you'd still want him, badly.

You let him direct you, let him set the pace, let him slowly, agonizingly undress you until you were in just bra and underwear. And he pulled back slightly to look you over, eyes darkening with lust, "Take me to your bed?" he asked softly.

You took him by the hand and led him to your bedroom, licked your lips when he pushed you back onto the bed and began to undress.

When he was in just his boxers he crawled over you and you ran your hands eagerly over every inch of his skin you could. He leaned down to kiss your neck again, one of his hands trailing down your chest, your belly, until he was rubbing you over your underwear. Your hips lifted up and into his palm and he covered your mouth with his own when you moaned.

"You're soaked," he whispered, smug, "I've barely touched you."

You took his lip gently between your teeth and then released him, "I've been thinking about you while I touched myself the last few days," you whispered before you could think better of it, "I think it's sort of a weird Pavlovian response now."

The groan he made sounded pained as he slipped his hand fully into your underwear. "You were thinking about me, huh? When you were getting yourself off?"

You nodded, unable to form words as his fingers slid up and down your folds, denying you the friction you really needed.

"And what was I doing in your head, hm?" You sighed when his finger circled your puffy clit, "Was it this?"

"Something like that, yeah." Your back arched when he slipped a finger inside you, so much thicker and longer than your own, he reached the deep spot inside you that had your toes curling effortlessly.

You sighed into his mouth as he curled his finger up just slightly, slowly thrusting in and out. His pace was so languid you began moving your own hips, trying to encourage him to quicken, but he placed his free hand on your stomach, "So impatient," he tutted, "is it always a race with you to come?"

Yes. It was, in fact. You were always trying to come as fast as possible so whoever you were with wouldn't lose interest. Even with Robby, you worried he might get you close to the precipice and then decide he couldn't wait anymore, that he needed to come first.

And then, what the fuck would be the point of all this? You took this man into your home, let him meet your cat, let him into your bed, and what? No orgasm in return?

But you couldn't say any of this, worried you'd come across as a greedy bitch and also it was difficult to form coherent sentences once he added a second finger.

So instead, your stupid, dumb, pleasure addled brain decided to just beg, "Please."

He pulled his face back marginally so you got a full view of him, perched above you. His eyes were black pits of desire, but beneath that, there was something else. A gentleness, a fondness, a tenderness. Directed at you.

You didn't think anyone had ever looked at you with such adoration. He didn't even really know you. The intimacy of his gaze embarrassed you and so you closed your eyes so you wouldn't have to see it.

Eyes closed, you felt him kiss up your jaw to your ear, fingers still moving at a snail's pace.

"You sound so pretty when you beg," he crooned, his hot breath on the shell of your ear, "wanna hear you do it again."

You hated the way your body responded to his voice, a fire low in your belly stoked by his words, and still you could only whimper in response, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. You couldn't recall a time a man had ever had you like this, that you had allowed a man to have you like this, so vulnerable and desperate for him.

"You can do it," he cooed, all condescension as he pulled his fingers out of you. Before you had a chance to complain about that he slapped your pussy lightly and it sent shockwaves through your clit, "Beg me to come."

You groaned, pushed your face up and into his neck, "Please, Robby."

He covered your mouth with his own again, kissed you hard, teeth dragging over your lower lip, "Good girl," he murmured and kissed you again, his praise sending chills up your arms.

He kissed his way down your body until he was between your legs and he pressed his mouth to the damp spots on the fabric of your underwear. He kissed you thoroughly through the fabric, his moan vibrating off you. He was such a fucking tease but you absolutely would not beg him again.

"Robby," you said again, but this time in warning.

He laughed, "Alright, alright," he pulled the waistband of your underwear down, allowed you to lift your hips so he could pull them off you, "message received."

When he lowered his mouth to you, his tongue expertly working you, a stray, fleeting thought passed to the front of your mind that maybe this was why people got married. Maybe if you found someone who could make you feel this good, that made you think this must be why people believed in heaven, in God. Maybe that was enough reason to tie yourself to someone forever.

The thought was there and gone like a passing shower, almost as if your brain was too afraid to acknowledge why you would be experiencing that specific sentiment. And then Robby focused his mouth on your clit and slipped his fingers back inside you and there was no room to think anything at all.

Your walls tightened around his fingers as his tongue flicked against your clit until your climax ripped through you. Your body writhed against his mouth as you rode out the waves until they crested and receded.

You were breathing hard, eyelids fluttering open, when you felt him pull his fingers out of you. He sucked your juices from his fingers and even after finishing, your stomach tightened in response.

It shocked you how easily everything he did turned you on. Your eyes trailed down his chest, catalogued his Star of David necklace, his freckles, the smattering of chest hair, down to his belly, the hair that grew there and disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers, you filed it all away.

His erection was obvious in his boxers as his mouth came back up to meet yours, "you doing okay, sweetheart?" he murmured into your mouth.

You felt yourself melt. With every passing moment you started to wonder if this man was ruining you for sex with anyone else ever again. You managed a nod and kissed him back. Part of you wondered if he had realized just how undone you were by him. Still, you wanted more. And this, like so much of this sexual experience, was foreign to you. You were used to going through the motions to make another man come. Most of the time, you resigned yourself to being a pillow princess, not really an active participant, more of a let's get this over with attitude.

But with Robby, you yearned to touch him, feel him, wanted to be filled to the brim with him. When you reached into his boxers to stroke his cock with your hand, it was his turn to moan. As he did, he reached for your face. He gently pressed fingers that were just inside of you to your lips, "Open."

His word was firm, meant to be a command, and yet there was a question in his eyes. You met his eyes, gave the smallest of nods as you opened your mouth. You took his fingers into your mouth, sucked on them obscenely while you pumped him with your hand. Each time you brought your fist up to his head, you noted the precum there and sucked on his fingers a little harder.

"Jesus Christ," he panted as he watched you, his hips involuntarily rutting into your hand.

When he pulled his fingers from your mouth, you rose up to meet his lips, needing to kiss him, to taste his tongue and feel the roughness of his beard against you. You needed more of him, sucked on his tongue as if it were oxygen after resurfacing from the ocean. He made needy noises, grinding down on your soaked pussy still with the fabric of his boxers between you.

You pulled on them impatiently, no longer able to disguise your neediness, not caring if you seemed desperate anymore. He met your desperation, quickly pulled them down and off, "Do you have a condom?" He asked, breathless.

You did, but for a moment you considered asking him to fuck you raw. You felt crazed, reckless in a way you had never been before. You couldn't fathom the idea of creating another barrier between you. But you blinked, reminded yourself you didn't really know him. You had an IUD, it wasn't pregnancy you were worried about. You knew you were clean, but who could say that he was? He was a doctor, so you'd hope he wouldn't lie about that sort of thing, but again, you didn't know him.

You cursed the rational side of your brain and reached for your nightstand. You hastily ripped open the condom wrapper, hushed his laughing at your impatience with a kiss and worked the condom onto him.

He cradled the back of your neck as he kissed you, guided you back onto the pillow, and then you felt him poking, first at your leg, then he nudged your entrance and inhaled sharply.

You locked eyes with him as he slowly pushed himself inside you, the two of you sighing collectively as he filled you to the brim. You whined at the stretch, immediately wanting him to move, "Please," you begged again, wiggling your hips in a useless attempt to create friction.

He gave you a lopsided grin, pressed his face into your sweaty neck, "It's not a race, sweetheart." He chided again, took your earlobe between his teeth as he finally started to move his hips. He moved slow, but his thrusts were so deep and strong, he pushed you up until your head hit the bedpost.

It didn't hurt, and you barely noticed it for the stars you were seeing every time he pushed into you, but after a moment you registered that your head was hitting his hand instead. He had placed his hand between your head and the bedpost, kissed your forehead as he rutted into you, "sorry, sweetheart," he murmured.

Oh, it was dizzying the way you felt delusional with lust one second and the next wondering if this is what it felt like to be in love. You had thought you'd been in love before, but it had never felt like this, all consuming. You had only known him a few days but you wondered how anyone he slept with didn't fall in love with him. Maybe they did. Maybe he was just that legendary a lay.

It was close to being over, you could tell. He was moving faster, he'd buried his face in your shoulder, bit down to muffle his moans. When he came, you stroked his head, didn't mind the way his sweat mingled with yours, damp skin sticking to you.

And with his orgasm, your head began to clear of the lust laden fog. Breathless, his mouth searched for yours, sucked your bottom lip between his own. Suddenly, you felt terrified of your own want. There was an ache so deep inside you, reserved just for him, that you felt tears burn the backs of your eyes as he kissed you.

Gently, you pushed him off of you, murmured something about going to take a shower, and ran out of the room.

You turned on the shower with a shaky hand, felt the onset of a panic attack impending in your chest. You sat on the floor of the tub, let the warm spray of the water regulate your breathing.

This was supposed to be a one night stand. You were supposed to fuck him and forget him, like you always did. And like what always happened, you would get out of this shower, walk back to your bedroom, and he would be gone. You always used the shower after sex to provide your guests with a good excuse to leave. That way there were no awkward goodbyes and you could go to sleep having cleaned them off you.

It didn't matter that, actually, if you weren't so tired you thought you'd probably like to fuck him again. Maybe this time, you'd count each freckle underneath his eyes and watch the fucked out expression on his face while you rode him.

You scrubbed at your face, stood up and turned off the shower. There wouldn't be a next time, you reminded yourself. One and done, that was your rule. You liked your life the way it was, clean and neat, just you and Zelda. Relationships were messy. Love was messy. Unnecessary.

You wrapped a towel around your body and headed back to the bedroom. Walking through the open door, you started when you saw him, still sprawled out on the bed. He had put his boxers back on and a pair of readers was perched on his nose as he read the book in his hand, Psychological Evaluations for the Courts: A Handbook for Mental Health Professionals and Lawyers.

This was all surprising enough, but what really threw you for a loop, was Zelda curled up on his bare shoulder, her face smushed into his as he used a free hand to scratch under her chin. Zelda always stayed away from your guests.

"Hey, can I borrow this?" He asked, nodding towards the book.

You blinked, "You're still here," you said softly.

"Oh," he pushed his glasses up onto his head, "did you want me to go?"

You opened and closed your mouth, "N-no. I just, um," at that moment, Zelda meowed and jumped off the bed to your feet, "Usually, it's just that while I'm in the shower usually my… guests… leave."

He smirked at you, "I don't have to stay—"

"I want you to stay," you blurted, "but I should tell you that I get nightmares. Sometimes."

"Yeah, okay. Me too." He shrugged and looked back at the book, "Seriously, can I borrow this?"

You smirked and dropped your towel, grabbed a clean t-shirt to throw on. You felt his eyes rove over your body until you pulled the t-shirt over your head, "You want to borrow one of my reference books?"

You crawled back onto the bed, tried to ignore the gnawing thought in your head that you shouldn't be doing this. This broke the rules. You should've sent him home.

He shrugged, "It's interesting."

Zelda hopped back on the bed and settled on top of the place where your body connected to Robby's. And Robby looked down at her and smiled, scratched the spot under her chin again. Fuck. If he could win Zelda over, a feat only ever achieved by you, it was over for you.

"Yeah, sure," you said, "you can borrow it. But that means you have to see me again."

He hummed and lightly stroked his knuckles across your cheekbone, "Was already planning on that."

***

You follow them home, watch Liam walk her to the door. There's a chill to the night air that comes at summer's end when the greens and blues of the season begin to dull.

You can hear the friendship bracelets bounce against one another as they walk. There's a moment, when they stand on the stoop, where Liam leans his head towards Chloe— and she steps back.

They're speaking, but you can't hear them. Liam's hands are balled into fists at his side and you feel that ice cold dread again. You want to go to him, pull him away from her, but your feet seem glued to the ground.

There's nothing you can do but watch as Chloe turns away from Liam and to her door and Liam picks up the aluminum baseball bat abandoned by the stairs—

You resurfaced from the dream as if clawing yourself from your own grave having forgotten how to breathe, cheeks wet and chest heaving.

"What—what's wrong?"

Robby's voice was rough with sleep as he fumbled for the lamp on the bedside table. You couldn't pull enough air into your lungs to speak, but even if you could you weren't sure what you'd say. You had forgotten you had fallen asleep with him, limbs entangled.

If you had the wherewithal to care, you'd probably be embarrassed about the fact that he kept seeing you like this, falling apart. Something no one else had ever had the privilege of seeing. You kept having to remind yourself you had only known him for three days. That eventually he would leave, would grow tired of you, of this. Likely sooner rather than later. The infatuation would fade and so would he.

But when the lamp switched on and his eyes landed on you, heaving for air, you saw nothing but soft concern, "C'mere," he said and opened his arms to you.

You hesitated for only a moment before you collapsed against his chest, pressed your ear to his skin so you could hear the steady beat of his heart.

He held you silently while your breathing leveled and your sobs reduced to hiccups.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked finally, mouth pressed to your hair.

You shook your head and watched the moon from your window, "Can we take a ride on your bike?"

"Now?" He asked, surprise heavy in his voice, "It's 3AM."

You took a shaky breath, "Need some air."

He seemed to ponder this silently for a moment before sighing, "Yeah, okay. If that'll make you feel better."

The two of you got up from bed and dressed quickly and quietly. The silence of the nighttime and the cool crisp air immediately had you feeling more like yourself.

Robby grabbed his extra helmet and before he went to place it on your head, hovered above it, "Is it gonna make you claustrophobic?"

It was sweet that he even thought it, that it would trigger your panic attack again having to put something over your face. But that wasn't the sort of anxiety you had. In fact, being in enclosed spaces (like his arms), was comforting. So you shook your head.

He put the helmet on your head like you were a child, made sure it was buckled properly, and then he was climbing onto the bike, putting his own helmet on.

You pushed the windshield on your helmet up so you could feel the wind against your face as he drove through Pittsburgh. Your arms were clasped firmly around his waist and just like the first time, whenever he stopped he stroked his hand gently atop yours.

It took you a while, but you recognized when he was driving out of the city where he was taking you.

His headlights lit the road into West End Overlook Park, the lights from the city lit up the skyline even at this hour. Robby parked and turned off the engine, held your hand as you dismounted.

After taking off your helmets, you walked to the railing so you could see the city fully. Robby twined his arms around your waist from behind and rested his head on top of yours, "You feel any better?"

"Yeah," You grabbed at his arms and pulled them tighter around you, "Thank you. Sorry I woke you."

"Nothing to be sorry for, I don't sleep well anyway."

You closed your eyes while he kissed down your cheek to your jawbone, reveled in the feel of him wrapped around you like this. And you ignored the voice in the back of your head that reminded you it couldn't last.

***

The next weeks and months passed in a blur. On all of your spare days and nights you were either at Robby's or he was at yours.

You expected for the infatuation the wear off, for the high of the sex to fade, but the sex only got better as you learned each other's preferences and you still had a dopey smile on your face whenever you opened the door to see him on the other side.

He spent hours sitting in the chair by your window reading with Zelda in his lap while she watched the birds fly by the window. Robby became so enamored by her, he bought her a harness and leash, said he wanted to train her to go outside so the two of you could take her on hikes.

But still, there remained a wall between you. You both occasionally had nightmares and though you were both willing to provide physical comfort, neither of you ever raised the topics of your demons. Not explicitly. Robby had asked you that first time, but that had seemed to be only because he felt like that's what was expected of him. And the second you said you didn't want to talk about it, he took it as permission to never bring it up again.

At first, you thought this was a win. You had no desire to be more vulnerable with him than you already were. The sex was good, the company was nice, why complicate things unnecessarily?

But then things started to take a turn when he'd come over miserable and wrecked from work and refuse to talk about it.

After one particularly lousy day, he'd snapped at you when you asked him one too many times if he was okay.

"I've told you at least three separate times now that I'm fine, so could you please fucking drop it?"

You swallowed, tried to ignore his tone, "Well it's just that what you're saying doesn't match your whole attitude so I'm trying to give you a chance to tell me what the problem is—"

"Why? So you can fucking psychoanalyze me? I'm not one of your clients."

You bristled at that, "You know I'm not a therapist."

He huffed out a breath through his nose, "Right. Could've fooled me."

You nodded slowly to yourself, tried not to let the hurt show on your face as you headed to the entryway, "You know, I just remembered I have this evaluation I really should be working on so—"

"Hey, come on," You heard him sigh, his steps following after you, "I'm sorry, don't go."

You were grabbing your coat from the hooks by his door, but he snatched it out of your hand and rehung it before stepping in front of you and walking you backwards until your back hit the wall, "I'm sorry, I don't know why—" He cut himself off and sighed, took your face in his hands and started kissing your cheeks, your jaw, down your neck, "I'm sorry," he repeated against your skin.

And you hated yourself because your eyelids fluttered closed at his touch, like they always did. You allowed him to make you forget, or alternatively, make you remember why you kept coming back. He picked you up, hoisted your legs around his waist as he still pressed your back firmly to the wall. With every stroke of his tongue against yours, you couldn't remember why you ever wanted to leave in the first place.

It became a pattern with you both. One of you pissed off or hurting and refusing to tell the other why, the other deciding they were sick of the bullshit and wanted to leave, until the clothes started to come off.

But even then, you couldn't keep the emotions and the sex separate. They began to bleed into one another, frustration coming out in rough and hard sex, devastation occasionally leading to crying after orgasms, and steadily it became more and more of a mess.

You both began to withdraw, and though you felt yourself doing the same thing to him, you felt heartbroken and devastated when you invited him over and he said he was too busy. Then you were angry at him, but more angry with yourself for allowing yourself to do the very thing you swore you wouldn't; fall in love. Because there was no fucking denying it now.

Not when he ghosted you and you felt like you couldn't breathe. When you woke up from a nightmare and he wasn't there, so you had to picture his arms around you instead to calm yourself down. Only to then start crying and wish you could call him, just to hear his voice. It was excruciating. You would have tried anything to get rid of the feeling. If you believed in the Devil, you may have attempted to summon him to strike up a deal.

The day he left your reference book in your mailbox without ringing the doorbell, no note, no text, you decided you hated him. But it wasn't the truth. It was just survival. There was nowhere else to put all the love you had for him, the ache in your chest when you heard a motorcycle go by. You always checked to see if it was him, but it never was.

It was over, you thought. The first and last time you had fallen in love. You wouldn't be this stupid ever again.

***

Robby was miserable. Had been since he stopped answering your texts. The day he left your book in your mailbox, he had intended to ring the doorbell, to see your face one last time. But he couldn't do it. He thought he didn't deserve to. And you didn't want him and his baggage anyway. He had been hurting you consistently for weeks. He felt it. He knew you felt it too by the way you had started pulling away.

Before, work had been miserable, but at least he had you for a while to go home to. But now, it was just work and home alone. He tortured himself with the thought of you. Jerked off in the shower thinking about your tits in his mouth and the way you used to beg for him. If before he had been occasionally moody at work, he was now insufferable, snapping at everyone.

When there was a Code Tan called after Jack had just arrived for shift change, he thought nothing of it.

"You go home, brother," Jack said, lightly tapping him on the chest as he passed, "I got this."

And so, he had begun to pack up his things, had his backpack over his shoulder and his helmet in his hand when he turned for the exit—

Only to see you walk in from chairs, eyes red rimmed and a cold compress pressed to your cheek. You looked tired and frankly more resigned than he could ever recall seeing you.

He didn't give himself time to think when he dropped his backpack and helmet at the hub and walked towards you.

"What're you doing here?" He asked sharply and on instinct, brought his hands up to check your injury, but you reeled away from him. He frowned at that. He knew he had hurt you in the days and weeks leading up to when he disappeared, but he had thought when he Houdini'd out of your life he was doing you a favor. And it had been at least a month since then so he thought you'd be fine. You were always fine. But there was an inferno in your eyes now.

"I'm the code tan," you said, "a client got in a good punch while I was upstairs."

He clenched his jaw, "They don't have security with you in there?"

"I asked them to wait outside," you said, "it helps with rapport to let them think that I trust them. Backfired on me this time, though."

He decided not to reprimand you on that, "Let me take a look—"

You pulled back again, "I don't want you, I want a different doctor."

Before Robby even had time to properly register the venom in your voice, Jack joined you, "Hey, is this our code tan? Thought I told you to beat it, Robinavitch."

"I can handle this one—"

"No, I'd prefer it if Dr.—" You looked towards Jack, waiting for him to give his name.

"Abbot."

"—Dr. Abbot. I want Dr. Abbot to look me over."

Robby's chest tightened, "Sweetheart—"

"Don't call me that."

Jack looked between the two of you in mild confusion, "Okay…" He said, stretching out the word, "why don't you follow me? Robby, go home."

"Jack—"

"It's what the patient wants!" He called over his shoulder as he ushered you away from Robby.

Jack took you to an open bed, had you sit down, and you saw that you had a clear line of sight to the hub. Robby was now sitting at a workspace, eyes zeroed in on you.

"Would you mind closing the curtains?" You asked.

Jack turned his head back toward the hub, saw Robby and sighed before drawing the curtains around the two of you. Then he raised two gloved hands, "May I take a look?"

You nodded, pulled the compress from your face. Jack didn't betray any opinion. Whether or not he thought the injury was bad, his face remained neutral.

"How'd you get this?"

"I was punched by a psych patient upstairs."

His eyes darted from the injury to your eyes, then back again, "You're the psychologist Robby was seeing?"

Now it was your turn to eye him, "I didn't think he told anyone. It wasn't… It wasn't anything, really."

"Well," Jack shined a light in your eyes, watched your pupils react, "Whatever it was, it fucked him up. More fucked up than he was to begin with."

It went against everything you had presumed in the last few weeks, that Robby was mourning you. He could've texted, he could've called, he could've showed up at your door in the middle of the night and you likely would have forgiven him.

"Yeah, well. He's not the only one it fucked up."

He sighed, "It might help if you talk to him."

You snorted, "Right, yeah. Is that your recommended treatment plan?"

He shook his head and took off his gloves, "No. I want you to get a CT just to make sure nothing's broken, which I don't think anything is. Then when you go home I want you to ice it for about ten to twenty minutes at a time for the first 24-48 hours. Swelling should go down after that. You'll probably have some bruising for the next two or three weeks."

"Thank you."

He looked you over again as he stood, "He's been fucked up since it ended, but when it was going on, I'd never seen him that happy. If you were even a third as happy as he was… I think you should talk to him."

And then he was gone and you were grateful that he kept the curtain closed around you so Robby couldn't see it when you started crying.

***

The CT came back clean and you gathered your things to head home, but as soon as you walked back into central, there was Robby. Waiting for you.

He matched your stride, walked with you towards the exit, "Let me take you home."

"No thank you."

"I don't understand why you're so upset with me, could you just talk to me—"

It was so ridiculous, you barked out a laugh, "Now you wanna talk? After you ignored my messages and dropped off my book without even ringing the fucking doorbell? Too much of a fucking coward to face me?"

You had walked outside now and he grabbed your wrist, spun you to face him, "I thought it was what you wanted. I didn't ring the doorbell because I knew if I saw you I'd beg you to let me back in again and I didn't think that was fair to you."

You were so frustrated, so appalled by the idea that after reaching out to him with no response that you didn't want to hear from him, that you couldn't form words. You pulled your wrist from him, placed your hands on his chest, and shoved.

"Hey—Stop—" You shoved him again, "Stop that—" This time, when you went to shove him again, he grabbed your wrists and backed you against the wall of the hospital, "Enough."

This close to him, looking into those warm brown eyes again, your anger began to slip replaced by the seemingly unending devastation you had been trying to dampen since he disappeared, "I hate you," you said, chin wobbling, "You made me fall in love with you and then you left."

You watched his face transform with your admission, both soften and sadden, "You never told me you loved me."

You laughed, a tear escaping to carve a path down your cheek, "And would it have made a difference?"

"Maybe!" He said fiercely, "Maybe if you ever let me in fully it would have been different, not this half in half out bullshit."

"Oh, okay, so it's all my fault then."

He shook his head and released your wrists, looked down at the ground, "I didn't say that."

"What about you, huh? Every time I asked you to tell me what you were feeling you'd bite my fucking head off."

He looked back up at you, "You didn't really want to know, I was following your lead. You never fucking shared anything with me unless you were fully breaking down and even then it was like you were so careful about what you did tell me. I didn't think you wanted anything deeper so I kept it to myself."

You bit your lip, let the silence fall between the two of you and leaned your back against the wall. After a moment you dug into your pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, "Do you have a light?" You asked, voice rough and flat from the shouting and crying.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye dig a lighter from his pocket. You put a cigarette between your lips and leaned into him, tried not to notice the warmth of his hand as he cupped a hand around the light to keep the breeze from blowing it out. After you leaned back and took a couple of drags, you passed the cigarette to him, which he accepted.

"Did you love me?" You asked, staring off into the distance, not capable of looking at him in case he gave you the devastating answer. You felt him watch you for a moment before he looked forward again.

"I still love you," he said softly, passing the cigarette back to you.

You tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart, took a long drag from the cigarette, "Zelda misses you. She makes me sit in that chair by the window you used to sit in and watch the birds with her, but I don't think she enjoys my company as much as yours."

He chuckled, "I miss her too."

You inhaled a shaky breath, "I don't know how to do this. How to be in a relationship and be… emotionally available. But I think I want to try. With you."

When you looked over at him he had a small smile on his face, "I would really like that."

You put out your cigarette and finally let him touch you. His hands coming up to cradle your face, he carefully avoided your injury. And then his lips were on yours and you thought your knees might buckle with the relief.

"I'm sorry I left, for snapping at you, for not ringing the doorbell, all of it," he said frantically in your mouth, "I was stupid, I was scared, and I didn't think you felt the same."

"I forgive you," you murmured, "And I'm sorry too. For all of it."

He pulled away from you slightly, gently ran his knuckles across your cheek, "We'll figure it out."

You nodded, nudged your nose against his, "Do you think you could take me home now?"

He smiled against you, "Absolutely."

He led you by the hand to his bike, kissed your forehead before pulling the helmet over your head and buckling it beneath your chin.

It likely would never be easy between the two of you. There would inevitably be more fighting, more silence. But you thought it might be okay now, knowing that the love was there. Knowing that neither of you would leave like that again. You were hopeful and you were done denying yourself what you wanted. You thought Robby might be done with it too.

He chuckled to himself, “No. Why would I check your closet for my clothes?”

“I think I put them on the top shelf!” You called, ignoring his snide comment.

He shook his head, a smirk on his face, as he went to search your closet. You were always stealing his clothes. It was difficult to be annoyed about it though, because he loved seeing you in them.

He spotted them almost immediately, in the corner on the shelf as you said. But as he pulled on them, a box fell down with them.

Jack bent to pick it up— And frowned when he saw what it was. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face. A vibrator. It was a shape he recognized, a rabbit, with a large shaft for penetration and a smaller one for clitoral stimulation. And by the looks of it, it was unopened.

“Hey, did you find—?“ You were still drying your hands on a dish towel when you stopped in the doorway of your closet.

Jack slowly looked up from the box, smirking at you as he did, turning it so you could see the picture on the cover, “What’s this?”

Immediately you were blushing, “Um, I just… I—I bought it when I was single and… and then we started dating and I didn’t…” You swallowed, noting that he seemed endlessly amused by how flustered you were, “I didn’t have need for it. Once we started dating.”

He looked at the box and then back to you, still smiling, “You didn’t even open it?”

You shrugged, “As I said, I didn’t have need for it.”

“But you kept it.”

You opened your mouth— Then closed it. Finally, you shrugged, “I don’t know. I was curious.”

“Well, we should open it then.”

If you were red before, your face became an inferno now as you snatched the box from his hands, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” You began to walk past him into the closet to put it away, but Jack lightly grabbed your arm as you tried to move past him.

“Look, I… I won’t force you, obviously, but… There’s no need to be so shy with me, you know?” He gently took your chin in his fingers and turned your head so you were looking at him, “I think it’s really hot.”

Finally, you managed a small smile, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Did you finish the soup?”

You blinked at the sudden change of subject, “Uh, yeah. It has to simmer for a few hours.”

“Good,” He looked back down at the box in your hands, “How many orgasms do you think you can take before you’re begging me to stop?”

He watched your throat bob as your breathing hitched, “I guess we’ll find out?” You said, voice high and breathy.

He looked up at you, inhaling slowly as he did, and you watched his hazel eyes dilate with desire in real time.

“Why don’t you strip and get on the bed?” He said softly and pulled the box from your grasp.

You did as you were told, heat already stirring between your legs as you watched Jack get everything ready. Hyper focused as he tears open the box and begins pacing around your bedroom, grabbing a towel, grabbing lube, washing the new vibrator with soap and warm water.

He laid out a towel over the bed sheets and lightly pat it with his hand in silent invitation. Heart pounding, you laid down against the pillows, on top of the towel.

Jack seemed calm on the outside, but inside he was freaking the fuck out, looking at you sprawled naked on that towel, just waiting for him to touch you. Crawling over you, he placed a kiss on your forehead, “You’re okay?” He asked quietly.

Because he felt fucking feral, holding that vibrator in his hand, mind racing thinking of all the ways he could fucking torture you and pull orgasm after orgasm until there were tears streaming down your cheeks. But one word from you and he would put it away and act like he wasn’t phased at all. Delegate it to just a fantasy to have in his mind and never to hold.

But you looked up at him with those big puppy eyes of yours and nodded and he swore he would come apart right there. He kissed you slow and tenderly, knotting a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and pulling just enough that you gasped. He was addicted to the sounds you made whenever he touched you, the breathy sighs and the moans. Even the sleepy mewls you made still in sleep when he slipped into bed after a long shift.

Now, though, he wanted you a whimpering mess. Still kissing you, he pressed his thumb down on the vibrator, turning it on to its lowest setting.

Pulling away from you just a bit, he lightly pressed the vibrator to one of your nipples and was rewarded with another sigh as the bud pebbled. When he moved the vibrator to your other nipple, he leaned down to suck the other into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue. Already, already you were moaning so goddamn obscenely, he could feel his cock heavy and full in his briefs.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You stammered, arching your back. Underneath him, he felt your hips keen up, searching for pressure and friction wherever you could find it, “Jack, please.”

He laughed, “Sweetheart, it’s been like, thirty seconds.” He murmured into your neck, kissing and biting as he let the vibrator continue to assault your nipples, “You’re already that needy for me?”

Reaching a hand between your thighs, he was pleasantly surprised to find you absolutely dripping, “Jesus fucking Christ,” He swore under his breath, allowing his finger to sink into you once, twice— and then he pulled it out completely, ignoring the desperate sounds of your whines as he sucked your juices clean off his finger. He made sure you were looking at him as he did so, a mischievous smirk on his face.

You were positively pouting, lower lip pushed out as you continued to try and push your hips up and into him, but he pulled away again. “Alright, alright. Let’s see how you take it, then.”

Still on the lowest setting, he slowly dragged the vibrator up your inner thigh. He wanted you to get a feel for what it felt like, not wanting to overstimulate you too quickly. His eyes were locked on your face every second, still searching to make sure you still wanted this.

Your lust laden eyelids were drooping, but still locked on his. He watched the erratic rise and fall of your chest as he came closer and closer to your center. When the vibrator reached your outer lips, he spent some time circling them and could already see tears accumulating at the corners of your eyes. A pool of your juices had already begun collecting on the towel below you.

As soon as it caught his eye, his cock twitched. There was a dampness pooling in his own pants, but he could wait. There was something about the fact that you were so fucking undone with how little he and the vibrator had touched you that made him feel clinically crazy.

And he knew he wanted the vibrator to do the job, that’s why they were here, but he couldn’t just fucking watch you drip like this and do nothing about it. He needed to fucking taste you or he would lose his goddamn mind.

His tongue was deep inside you so quickly you cried out, a hand blindly reaching to knot itself in his salt and pepper curls. With the free hand that wasn’t wrapped around your thigh, he pressed the vibrator to your clit, and immediately, you’re coming. The vibrator was so much more stimulation than you were used to, that tears are already streaming down your cheeks as you come down.

Jack sat up, chin slick and shiny from you and reached a thumb to swipe away some of the tears on your cheek, “You wanna keep going?” He asked.

You nod, breathless, “Yes.”

He smirked as he grabbed the bottle of lube. He wasn’t sure that you’d need it, given how fucking soaked you were now with both his saliva and your own come, but just in case, he coated the shaft of the vibrator. It was not as thick or as long as he was, so he imagined you would take it just fine. But even the thought of hurting you unintentionally made him want to tear the world apart. So he’d stretch you slowly, watch you carefully for any discomfort.

When he met you, you had a hard time saying no. Not just to him, to anyone. He had tried to build your confidence, assure you that there was nothing you could say or do that would make him love you any less. And that anyone who couldn’t respect a boundary didn’t deserve your love and respect anyway. It was working, slowly, he thought. But there were still times you faltered when he could tell you wanted to say no. He had become an expert on it, the way your lips twisted to the side, or you avoided eye contact, or frowned just slightly when you said “yes,” but were really thinking “no.”

And so he watched you now as he lined the vibrator up with your entrance and added slow, constant pressure.

“There you go, sweetheart,” He cooed and you whined at the praise, “Tell me what you want, use your words.”

You rutted your hips up, “Please, Jack, more. Need more.”

Your cheeks were still damp from your last orgasm and your forehead slicked with sweat. You were so fucking gorgeous, he thought he might have a stroke just looking at you. And it would be worth it. He pushed the vibrator in, more and more until you were full and eyes rolling back into your head with pleasure. After he had thrusted it in and out a couple of times, he turned the vibrator up to a higher setting and you immediately burst out in sobs.

Jack stilled for a moment, “Should I stop?” He asked, almost panicked, his hand began to pull out—

But your hand grabbed his wrist, pulled it back flush against you as your hips began grinding against it again, “P-Please.” You begged again, a fucking pathetic mess.

He swallowed, hard, and kept thrusting the vibrator in and out of you.

“Jack,” You moaned after a few moments of this, “Jack, baby, want you to touch yourself. Could you do that for me?”

Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to die here. You were going to fucking kill him, he was sure of it. Nodding silently, to stunned to say anything else, he pulled his full cock out of his briefs, hissing as he stroked it once in time with the way he thrust the rabbit in and out of you. He ran a thumb over the pre cum that dripped out of his slit, slicking it over his head and couldn’t stifle the moan that came out.

“Oh, that’s so good,” You moaned, “So hot, Jack, keep going. Want you to come with me, please, could you?”

He’d never seen you like this. The toy had seemed to unlock something in you. Normally so obedient and looking to be told what to do in bed. But now, now you seemed confident enough to ask what you wanted. Tell him what to do to get you off. And it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his fucking life. He would do whatever the fuck you wanted, if you asked for it like this. So sweet and gorgeous as you were on the edge of coming undone again.

He turned the second, smaller shaft on and pressed it to your clit as he sped up the thrusts of both the vibrator and the hand that fisted his cock. Your eyes followed the movement of his hand on his cock, tongue darting out to wet your lips, pure desire lighting up your whole face as you stared at him jerking off in front of you. And it was too fucking much, watching you watch him like that, getting off on him touching himself.

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned and hot white ropes of come were shooting out onto your pussy, covering his hand that was still managing to keep thrusting the vibrator in and out of you. You came only seconds later, still crying and legs shaking uncontrollably as you began to come down.

Both of you breathing hard, he gently pulled the toy out of you and wiped it against the towel that was under you. He laid down next to you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth as he did so.

You rested your sweaty head against his shoulder and the both of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Then, you turned your head slightly to look at him, “Again?” You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

He laughed then, short and loud, “Fuck me,” He groaned, but sat up anyway, “Again.” He agreed.

"No," you said sharply, "I might cause a scene if I see him right now so it's better he not know I'm here."

Robby huffed a laugh through his nose, "Trouble in paradise?"

You sighed and looked up from your chart, "Look, I know he's your buddy so you'll just take his side—"

Robby feigned outrage as he leaned over the hub on his forearms, "I can be objective."

You rolled your eyes, "Today was supposed to be his day off. We've had many conversations about how working with SWAT puts him in unnecessarily dangerous situations, but no matter what I say to him he won't stop doing these stings with them and get a real hobby."

Robby smirked knowingly, "Trying to tell Jack Abbot what to do isn't going well for you? Shocking."

You glared at him, "Thought you said you could be objective."

He winced, "Sorry, can't undo decades of biases overnight. I'll tell you what though, Jack's been the most himself with you than I've seen since he was with his wife. He loves you. Be patient with him, I'm sure he'll stop self destructing soon."

You massaged your temples, "Yeah, sure, whatever. In the meantime I'll just stay in fight or flight while he gets shot at for fun."

Robby tilted his head and rolled his eyes slightly, his way of saying he thought you were being dramatic and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "Your next consult is in North 15."

You scoffed, "Another one? Now you're just taking advantage of me."

He shrugged, "Complain to your attending for me, please. Maybe they'll finally start answering our pages."

Sighing, you walked off towards North 15, keeping an eye out for Jack as you went. But there was no sign of him. You were both disappointed and relieved. Despite your aggravation, you wanted to make sure he was alright.

You were still lost in thought when you pulled the curtain back on North 15— And came face to face with your shirtless boyfriend.

"Oh—I—Isn't there a patient here?"

Jack looked at you stoically, "No. Bed was empty."

You stared at him, open mouthed, "Robby said—" And then, you put the pieces together. Robby knew there was no patient in here, he had sent you to Abbot on purpose. Fucker.

A smile twitched on Jack's face, "Why would Robby have to trick you into coming to see me?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, biceps flexing unfairly as he squeezed some ointment out on the tray in front of him.

"Because I'm mad at you," You said, tearing your eyes away from his arms and chest.

"Why're you mad at me?"

"You know why."

With a q-tip smothered in ointment, Jack tried to reach behind him to the wound on his back. You watched him struggle for a moment before sighing and pulling the curtain back around the two of you.

"What're you doing?" He asked as you grabbed a pair of gloves.

"Helping." You said, opening your hand for the q-tip.

He stared at you stubbornly for a moment before offering it to you, "Why're you helping if you're mad at me?"

"Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean I want you to suffer." You dabbed the q-tip along the wound, "What happened?"

"Bullet grazed my vest."

You wished you could be the nonchalant, cool girlfriend. The one who probably thought Jack doing this on his time off was badass and sexy. But you didn't find danger alluring. You'd always been careful and your time in ortho had shown you more than enough permanent injury caused by stupidity and recklessness.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No," he said, "buddy of mine got shot in the neck. We brought him here."

You swallowed and backed away once you'd finished with his wound, "Is he gonna make it?"

"Yeah, I was able to intubate in the field," Jack watched your every movement, assessing, "Garcia took him up to surgery."

You nodded, "That could've been you who was shot in the neck. And there would've been nobody around to intubate you."

He sighed, "Could've been, but it wasn't." He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, "You're cute when you're worried."

"It's not a joke," You snapped.

"I know," He reached for your waist, and despite yourself, you allowed him to pull you to him so you were bracketed by his arms, "I'm sorry, I love you."

You tried to keep the stubborness in your eyes, but your hands betrayed you, reaching to run over his arms and chest, "Hard to stay mad at you when you're shirtless."

He smiled, "You like what you see?"

You rolled your eyes, "Don't get cocky."

With the drapes and door closed, Jack pulled you up into his lap so you straddled him, "But that's the first nice thing you've said to me all day." He pulled you down enough so his mouth could reach your neck, trailing sloppy, wet kisses up every inch of skin he could get, "And I've had a really hard day, as you can imagine, having to intubate someone while being shot at."

You sighed, both in annoyance and pleasure, "I'm not sympathetic to your cause…considering I asked you not to go."

"And I should've listened," He was still kissing you, even had the audacity to pull your hips down to grind against his crotch, "I'm sorry, honey, can you forgive me? Please?"

You pulled your face forward so you could kiss his neck, sucking and licking down to his shoulder. Jack hummed appreciatively as you moved your hips against him— "Ow!" You pulled back when he shouted, a smirk on your face.

"Did you just bite my arm?"

Still smiling, you pulled yourself off his lap, "Yes, turns out I'm still angry. Had to get my aggression out somehow."

He laughed and shook his head, "Brat."

"You'll make it up to me later? At home?"

"Not like I have much of a choice."

"No, you do not." You picked up your iPad and began backing out of the room, "Don't page me if you need a consult. Love you."

As you left Abbot in the room you walked past Robby and stopped him, "Next time you pull that shit, I'll ignore my page. You can kiss your in with ortho goodbye."

"Oh, come on, I was helping!"

"Mind your business next time, Robinavitch!" You called over your shoulder as you headed to the elevator.

Robby turned as Jack came out of North 15, shirt back on and looking sullen. "You in the doghouse?" Robby asked.

Jack shook his head and then smirked, "She's not really angry, just scared. She'll be fine once I—" Jack caught himself, about to admit to his friend that he planned on fucking the anger out of you later, and shook his head again instead, "She's fine. We're good. But you need to stop meddling or we'll lose our ortho privileges."

Robby sighed, "I thought I was helping."

"Yeah, well, next time maybe consult with me first before you stick your nose in our business."

Robby raised his hands in surrender, "Alright, fine, heard."

With Robby gone, Jack pulled out his phone to text you, You know, I think the biting actually unlocked something in me. Can we try that again later?

Smirking to himself, he pocketed his phone and began walking to the hub, pleasantly surprised when his phone went off. His grin only widened when he read the text there from you: Sure, but only if your bicep is wrapped around my throat while we do it.

You visibly brightened, "Oh! That's a relief."

Jack could feel his blood pressure steadily rising. He knew coming to this conference with only you for company was a mistake. Robby had teased him about it when he realized, with horror, it would just be the two of you.

The entire trip he was overly conscious of his proximity to you, the heat of your body, your knee knocking into his. And you, by all accounts, seemed painfully oblivious to his internal warring. He had to fight himself not to touch you, not to look at you too long, not to imagine what it would be like to kiss and touch you the way he really wanted to.

Robby had encouraged him ages ago to just ask you out, but he felt so out of practice after his wife he couldn't deal with the possibility of rejection. It was much easier to just use the idea of you as a fantasy. What if he finally worked up the courage and you said yes?

But this entire trip, his anxiety had been at an all time high with no one else for him to buffer his nerves.

He cleared his throat, "The room only has one bed," He said lowly.

"Hm," You hummed and turned back to the receptionist, "Could we get a cot in the room?"

She shook her head ruefully, "I'm so sorry, all of them are in use. If you want I can cancel the reservation and fully refund—"

"No!" You said quickly, "No, no, it's um…" You turned back to Jack, "I'm totally fine with sharing a bed for one night if you are. I mean, everywhere has to be booked up because of the storm. We might not find anywhere else."

You were right, of course. Despite the fact that kill bill sirens were on a loop in his brain at the idea of having to be so close to you all night when he desperately needed to let off some steam in private after being so close to you all goddamn day— It seemed he didn't have much choice.

He forced a smile, "If it's good with you, it's good with me."

And with that, you took the room key from the receptionist and Jack Abbot willingly followed you down the hall into his own personal hell.

You showered first as he carefully removed his prosthesis and sighed in relief as he sat at the edge of the bed. Turning on the TV, he watched the weather report as a man went on and on about the severe blizzard conditions that were expected to start in a few hours. About ten minutes later, you came out of the bathroom in a robe and sat down next to him, the scent of coconut and vanilla wafting off you.

"Oh, shit," You murmured as you took in the report, "This is worse than they were saying a few hours ago."

Jack nodded. Although he was distracted with thoughts of you, he was also running over emergency contingency plans in his head. But really, besides having emergency supplies in his duffle (warming blanket, non perishable foods, flashlight, batteries, first aid kit) it seemed likely that they might be stuck here for more than just one night.

He tried not to think about that. Went to shower and fucked his fist in his shower chair, biting on his arm to keep himself quiet while his mind raced with thoughts of you, imagining himself peeling you out of that robe, kissing gently down your neck and color bone, licking up stray water droplets from the shower. He tried to imagine what you might sound like moaning his name in pleasure. He longed to worship you the way you deserved, if only he had the fucking nerve to tell you how he felt.

It was most on his mind this trip since you'd been forced to be alone together for so long. You'd traveled here together on the same flight, spent the entire conference side by side cracking jokes and mingling with other doctors. He saved you a seat at every table, listened intently when you rambled on about how nervous you were about presenting at a big conference for the first time.

"I've always been shit at oral presentations." You said, fingers twisting nervously in front of you as the two of you waited in the wings. You were up next.

"Don't put so much pressure on yourself," He said, "I'll be there the whole time. I'll jump in if you need me to.

You'd grabbed his hand, squeezed it gently, and smiled at him, "Thank you."

He'd nodded and pretended the softness of your hand in his didn't feel transformative, didn't make him feel like they were made for him to hold.

Now he made his way out of the shower, in just a pair of briefs as he used his crutches to maneuver back into the bedroom. You were sat up in the bed, eReader in hand, the blue light of the TV flickered over the plains of your face. Your eyes widened just slightly at the sight of him, shirtless and still dripping from the shower, but then swallowed and averted your eyes.

"Um, do you—" You cleared your throat and Jack stifled a smirk, "Do you need help with anything?"

Jack shook his head as he lowered himself to the edge of the bed again, "No, I got it. Thanks."

After some time, he made his way into the bed next to you and the two of you sat in companionable silence as the weather man continued to give play by play updates as the blizzard got ever closer. Jack was trying not to think about the warmth your body might provide in the night when you yawned and placed the eReader on your nightstand.

"Think I'm gonna try to get some sleep," You said, settling beneath the covers.

"Oh, let me turn off—" Jack started, reaching for the remote, but you cut him off.

"No, it's okay. Turn it off whenever. I can sleep through anything."

Jack sat awake for what felt like hours, unable to sleep for fear of reaching for you in his sleep. Somewhere in his subconscious was a level of desire he was hardly able to keep in check when he was awake. He had no idea what his body would do once his brain was offline.

He was listening to you snoring softly and had flipped the channel to M*A*S*H reruns when the room suddenly went dark. The whir of the heater creaked to silence until the only sound in the room was the wind rattling against the windows.

Fuck. He thought.

"Jack?" Your voice was bleary with sleep.

"Power went out," He said in response, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and fumbling around for his crutches.

"Well—Don't—It might come back in a second—"

"It's not coming back on. They can't send crews out in this weather."

"Well the hotel must have a generator."

"Maybe," Jack said, now ruffling through his duffel for a flashlight, "But it might be a while."

He clicked on the switch on the flashlight and immediately felt relief as light flooded the room. Pointing it towards your spot on the bed, you squinted and covered your eyes with your forearm at the sudden brightness.

"Sorry," He said and pointed it away from you.

"Why don't we just get some sleep," You said through a yawn, "The power'll probably be back up by the time we wake up."

You were likely right, but the more time passed the more he felt like the possibility of him being able to sleep while you were right next to him was slim to none.

He reached for his prosthesis, "I'm just gonna take a walk to the front desk to see—"

"No!" You said quickly, and it came out almost like a whine, "Please, don't. I just, um, I don't wanna be alone."

He almost laughed, "Are you… Afraid of the dark?"

You sighed, "Don't make fun."

"I'm not," He said quickly, schooling his features, "I'm just surprised. I won't leave if you don't want me to."

"Thank you," You said, the relief in your tone palpable.

He climbed back into the bed, leaving the flashlight on the nightstand and pointing towards the ceiling so that it bathed most of the room in a warm glow. He saw you shiver after a moment and frowned, "You're cold?"

You sank deeper into the duvet, "I can already tell the heat is out."

"Well I have an emergency warming blanket—"

You laughed, "You really are prepared for everything, huh?"

Not everything. He thought. Not you.

Instead, he only shrugged.

"I don't want some weird foil blanket, I'd have to be close to hypothermic before I'd use it."

He chuckled, "Suit yourself."

But after almost twenty minutes without the heat, you were nearly vibrating the whole mattress with your shivering.

"Could I, um…" You sounded shy and when he looked over at you, you were staring at the ceiling, "Could I move a little closer to you? Just…For warmth. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

He fingers itched to pull you to him, envelop you entirely in his warmth, but he resisted.

"Yeah, of course." He said instead, carefully camouflaging the want from his voice.

You scooted your body over until your hips were touching his. He wanted to resist, really, he did. But you were so cold.

"Well, that's not gonna help you much," He said softly and turned on his side toward you, "Can I?" He asked, reaching his arms toward you.

You barely hesitated before nodding and he pulled you into his arms. Once settled, you sighed in contentment, running your hands along his arms as they held you flush to his chest.

"This okay?" He asked softly.

You nodded, "Yeah, you?"

He closed his eyes, "I'm good."

He relished in the feel of you in his arms, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. With you so close to him, his mind wandered to thoughts of kissing your neck and allowing his hands to wander beneath your shirt, knead and toy with the soft flesh of your breasts—

Shit. He felt it when the blood rushed between his legs, his cock swelling and prodding at your ass. He felt the flush crawl up his neck, "Fuck, sorry, I—"

"It's okay," You said quickly, sounding a bit breathless, "It a normal reaction, but…"

He hung on your every word, "But…?"

"Well, I just, if—If it were more than that. That would be okay, too."

He thought his heart might have skipped a beat. He swallowed thickly, "Yeah?"

You nodded, "But it's okay if… if you don't feel the same."

He laughed, "You have no idea just how desperately I want you."

"Really?"

He nodded and used his hands to gently tilt your face to the side so he had access to your neck where he laid gentle kisses all the way up to your ear. You sighed and turned your head so you could meet his kisses. The taste of you, finally on his tongue, it was addicting. The sounds you made, better than anything he could have imagined.

His hands roamed up your shirt and as he teased and twisted your nipples, you squirmed against him, creating friction against his cock, "Jesus Christ." He hissed.

So quickly, you were putty in his hands, unable to string a sentence together. Drunk on his touch.

He slipped a hand down your belly and into your panties. Slowly, he ran his fingers over your lips and then circled your clit. Repeated the motion, ghosting over your entrance, but never quite penetrating. Until you were writhing against him, rutting your hips into his palm, whining for more.

"That feel good, baby? You want more?"

You hiccuped, nodding helplessly.

"You want me to fuck you with my fingers?"

"Please, Jack." You managed finally and he smiled, pressed a kiss just below your ear.

"Good girl, so good for me." He murmured and slowly pushed his middle finger inside you.

Already wet and aching, you accommodated the stretch with ease and he began prodding, finding where it was that most drove you crazy. Then he pushed his ring finger inside you, used his thumb to continue rubbing your clit.

In moments, you were falling apart in his arms. He cooed sweet words in your ear as you came down and then slowly slipped his fingers out of you once you settled again. Unable to help himself, he sucked your juices off his fingers. The taste of you riled him so thoroughly, his cock twitched, aching and full against his thigh as he considered splaying you open to feast properly.

But before he could do anything, the TV came back on and the heater hummed back to life. You turned in his arms to face him, the blue light casting shadows across your face. But it didn't matter, he saw the giddiness you tried to hide. You swallowed, "Looks like the generator kicked in."

He nodded and ran his thumb over your lower lip, "It's a shame, I was looking forward to keeping you warm all night."

Finally, a smile split across your face and you closed the inches between you to kiss him, "I'm still pretty cold," You said softly into his mouth, "If the offer still stands."

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself. Because the alternative was too humiliating. You had always had a habit of falling too hard and too fast. You were too sensitive, cared too much, got attached too quickly. You were planning future vacations and creating Pinterest boards for the apartment you would eventually move into just a month or two in. And when it was all over, it was always you who was falling apart while you watched from afar as the other person always seemingly escaped unscathed. 

Your friends wouldn’t say so, but you knew they found it all a bit pathetic. With Jack, especially, they hadn’t understood the draw. They had teased about his age, referred to him as grandpa in your conversations, pointed out his weird schedule, how you rarely saw him because of it. They thought you probably didn't even know him very well, that whatever infatuation you had was just a carefully curated delusion.

But they didn’t see what he was like when you were alone together. How could they know about the times when he made you dinner in his kitchen when you were too busy to even think about what to eat? How he had twirled you around in your socks on the linoleum floor while Dancing in the Moonlight spun on his record player. 

They didn’t see all the times he quietly ran his fingers through your hair the way you liked when you were sad. He never made you feel like your feelings were too heavy or a flaw, which was foreign to you. It was why you had been left reeling when he ended it.

“I don’t understand.” You were shaking your head, sure you had misheard him. Sitting across from him outside your favorite coffee shop, holding the shaken espresso he had insisted on buying for you, that you now understood to be some kind of fucked up consolation prize. 

“I just…” He tore his gaze away from yours, as if it would lessen the blow if you couldn't see his hazel eyes glint green in the sunlight when he said it, “I don’t think it’s working.”

You had never gotten more of an explanation than that, too in shock to ask anything in that moment. You weren’t sure, but you thought you must’ve asked him to leave because the next time you looked at the seat where he had been it was empty and your iced coffee completely melted. 

You were aware, as you always were, that to everyone else who didn’t attach themselves like cling wrap to their significant other, three months wasn’t a whole lot of time to date someone. Especially when you were adults on opposite work schedules. You hadn’t even said the L word yet, but that was just because you knew from experience that it was better for everyone if you waited until the six month mark to do that. You were very much in love with Jack Abbot, but you thought you'd scare him off if you were the first to say it. All the rules you had to set for yourself to make yourself more like a cool girl and less like Velcro in your relationships.

With Jack, you had followed the rules. You had made sure not to call too often, not to cry in front of him, not to seem too eager to spend more than just a night together, leave in the morning after coffee, don't leave your toothbrush behind in his bathroom, and on and on the list went. You liked him so much, you were extra careful. And you thought it had been working.

Until it wasn't.

And now it had been a little over a month since he had broken up with you and you were at the bar. This definitely broke the rules, but what did it matter if he thought you were a crazy ex girlfriend? You were still just an ex.

And when he walked into the bar that night, you pretended not to notice. You ignored the thrum of your pulse in your ears when you heard his rough voice give the bartender his usual order. Whiskey, neat, with a twist. You kept your attention on the bouncer that had been talking with you the last twenty minutes, hoping Jack saw him and felt green waves of envy. It was needless, though. The bouncer was loyal and married with kids. Had been showing you pictures of his wife and kids just five minutes earlier. But that was just fine, as long as it looked like something else altogether to Jack.

You knew you looked hot tonight, you had dressed this way intentionally. Knee high black boots, red crushed velvet maxi skirt with a long slit that stopped mid thigh, and a black mesh top with intricate floral patterns down the sleeves. The New Year had just passed so it was probably too cold for the outfit, but you also knew how crazy it drove Jack when you showed a little skin.

He had taken a seat at the bar top, but you were at a table in his line of sight, as was the bare skin of your thigh. And you felt it, when he noticed you. The heat of his gaze was unmistakable. His eyes were so intently focused on the slit in your skirt it felt like his hands were already on you.

The bouncer left you after a couple of minutes, called back to the door, and you heard it when Jack immediately stood and began to walk towards you.

He sat at the chair across from you, setting his glass on the table, "What're you doing here, kid?"

You allowed your eyes to trail up to his. It hurt as spectacularly as you thought it would, seeing him up close like this again. A knife twisted in your side at the tired look in his eyes, the gray stubble across his jaw that you longed to run soothing fingers across.

Reaching towards his drink, you pulled the spiraled orange peel from it and placed it between your teeth, chewing it lightly. 

"That seat's reserved for people who actually intend to fuck me." You said, jaw clenched.

He laughed softly, "Well I guess I'm in the right seat, then."

You grimaced, "That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You narrowed your eyes at him before leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest, abandoning the orange peel on the table in front of you, "Okay, well it's reserved for people I intend to fuck, then. So, if you could find another seat…"

"You think I don't know you came here to see me? The same place we had our first kiss? Dressed like that and flirting with strangers in front of me?"

Your lips twisted upward in satisfaction when he couldn't help the hungry look in his eyes when they landed on the bare skin of your thigh, running a hand across his jaw in agitation.

You rolled your eyes, "Is your name on the deed to the bar or something?"

His eyes darted back to yours and the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile, "I don't remember you being so prickly. You used to be sweet."

"Yeah, well, breaking up with someone out of the blue and for no reason will do that to a person. I'm not a doormat."

He sighed and shook his head, "Come on, really?"

"What?" You asked sharply, "Did I mischaracterize it? Because that's how I remember it."

He leaned on his forearms so he was closer to you, his probing eyes locking on yours, "You wanted to end it, too. I was just the one to pull the plug."

For a second you thought maybe you were hallucinating. You actually physically recoiled from him in surprise, waited for him to repeat himself. But he didn't.

An incredulous laugh tore out of your throat, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He shook his head, "You weren't in it at all the last few weeks."

"Jack," You said breathlessly, "That could not be further from reality and I think it's fucked up that you would try to blame me for the fact that you ended something special for no good reason."

"I'm not blaming—"

"I mean I would've done anything you asked, I was fucking in love with you, so for you to say that I wasn't in it whatever that even means to you, is frankly deranged."

He seemed taken aback and it took you a few moments to even catch up with what you had said in your annoyance, but once you had, your chest tightened with panic.

"What did you just say?" He asked slowly.

You felt short of breath and you stood in such a hurry, you rattled the table and almost knocked Jack's drink over, "You're right, I shouldn't be here."

"No, hang on—" Jack secured a firm hand around your wrist, "Sit back down."

You tugged lightly, "I have to go."

"Hey," Eric, the bouncer, made his way over to the two of you, chest puffed out. But Jack made no move to release you. "This asshole giving you trouble, baby?"

You smiled sweetly at him, "I'm okay, Eric."

Jack laughed humorlessly, "'Baby', huh?"

"Don't do something stupid, man." Eric said, stepping closer to Jack.

You had never known Jack to be aggressive in any way, so when he stood up and gently pushed you behind him, you were floored.

"Why don't you back off my girl, hm?" Jack said, deathly quiet.

My girl? You had a passing thought that maybe you had fallen and hit your head at some point earlier in the day. Surely that was the only logical explanation for whatever this fever dream in front of you was.

"She never mentioned a boyfriend, only an ex." Eric and Jack were now eye to eye, nearly chest to chest as they sized each other up.

"Um, boys?" You moved around Jack so you were standing to the side of them both, "I'm fine, okay? Eric? Eric." Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Jack and looked down at you. You nodded reassuringly, "I'm good. Promise."

He took another long look at Jack before backing away, "You'll shout if you need me?" You nodded, and then he went back to the door.

"The two of you sleeping together?" He was more on edge than you had ever seen him. Knee bouncing as he sat back down. Jack was always the picture of calm and collected, especially in a crisis. So to see him so worked up now, really over nothing, was foreign to you. "He was acting awful… Familiar."

You sighed, "No. I know him from the library. He comes in for our Adult Literacy Program."

His knee stilled when your words registered and he looked over at you before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, "M'such an idiot." He murmured.

You chewed on your cheek and turned to look towards the door, "I'm gonna go home, Jack."

His head shot back up, "Wait, can we just talk for a minute, please."

This was what you wanted, you thought. For him to be asking for you, desire seemingly reignited. But not like this. You wanted to have the upper hand this time and you had revealed your hand too quickly. He was in control again.

"I'm sorry." You said softly and excused yourself from the table.

SEPTEMBER

It was a beautiful fall day, perfect for the outdoor flu shot clinic you were running out of the library. You were running around with your clipboard in your hand, pen occasionally between your teeth as you checked in with all the professionals who had volunteered to administer the vaccine, pharmacy techs and nurses from the community.

But while you were doing so, you spotted a man you didn't recognize. Head full of thick, graying curls and an easy smile as he spoke to one of the nurses you had checked in with a few minutes ago. You frowned and looked down at your clipboard. The only volunteer you were missing was a Mrs. Dana Evans, RN.

"Excuse me, sir?" You politely tapped him on the shoulder, "The clinic's not open yet, you can wait inside until we're ready—"

"Oh, I'm not here for the shot, already vaccinated."

You nodded slowly, "Um, okay, well this is a private event so if you could—"

"Sorry," He chuckled quietly, "I'm Jack Abbot, I work at PTMC. One of our nurses, Dana Evans, said she was supposed to volunteer here, but something came up. She asked if I could cover for her." He pulled out his hospital ID, the word DOCTOR written under his name and photo.

You looked up at him quizzically, "We don't get a lot of doctors volunteering here."

He cocked his head to the side, "Why, because they think it's below them?"

"No, I think it's because most of them haven't administered a vaccine in so long that they have no idea how to do it anymore."

He huffed a laugh, "Well, you don't have to worry about that, I know how to use a needle."

He winked at you and, well, he was very handsome. It made your knees weak. You cleared your throat and broke eye contact, "Okay, well, thank you for being here, Dr. Abbot. Just don't maim anyone, please."

"Just, Jack, if you don't mind." He reached out a hand to shake yours, "I don't think I got your name."

Almost against your will, your brain registered his toned arms and prominent veins that snaked down from his biceps to his hands. And the freckles, God, the freckles that dotted his skin were gorgeous. You swallowed hard as you took his hand and gave your name.

"You organize this by yourself?" He asked, dropping your hand.

You nodded, "Yeah, every year. We usually get a decent turn out."

"That's really good. You're saving lives, you know?"

You bit your lip, and shrugged, "I suppose. The community's really important to me, it's part of why I became a librarian. Libraries were always there for me when no one else was." You realized you had overshared too late when you noticed the gentle smile on his face, "Sorry, um, I just really love the library."

"Don't be sorry," He shook his head, "It's sweet. You're sweet."

You laughed nervously and hung your head, hoping you weren't as transparent as you felt. Sweet. Just one word and it felt like he had reached inside your chest and pulled your heart out with his bare hand.

"Well, I should get back to it. I'll, uh, see you around?"

His grin widened and he nodded, "Counting on it."

You spun away and— Walked directly into the table behind you, nearly losing your balance as your thighs slammed into the hard surface. Oh, awesome.

You didn't turn back to see if he had seen (of course he had, there was no way he could miss it), but you did hear an unmistakable chuckle as you scurried away.

Humiliated, you avoided him the rest of the event. If the snacks or water needed to be refilled by his station, you had one of your other librarians do it.

Hours later, when the clinic had ended, you were beginning to put away all the folding chairs when a voice came up behind you, "Thought you said you'd see me around?"

You jumped, turning to face him and he laughed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just couldn't help but notice you handed out everyone else's snacks and waters yourself, except the ones near me."

Catching your breath from the near heart attack he'd given you, you shook your head, "That… wasn't intentional."

"Oh, no? Was it also unintentional when you went by and thanked every volunteer for their help except for me?"

No, it had all definitely been intentional. You hung your head, "I didn't think you'd notice."

He blew out a long breath between his lips, "Man, I must be more rusty than I thought."

You frowned, "What?"

"I've been trying to flirt with you all day, but I must have done an awful job if you were avoiding me."

You bit your lip, tried to figure out if he was fucking with you somehow. It wasn't that you hadn't been flirted with before, you had. But Jack Abbot struck you as the kind of man who just flirted with everyone all the time at baseline, never meaning anything by it. So it had mortified you when you had gotten so flustered.

Deciding he was probably being genuine, you smiled, "I wasn't—I mean, I was avoiding you, but only because I thought I was being pretty embarrassing earlier."

He hummed, "Well, I thought you were adorable. You should walk into tables more often." You laughed and his grin widened, "When you've finished up here would you want to grab a drink with me?"

"Yeah," You said immediately before you could think on it too much, "Yeah, I'd like that."

He was waiting outside for you once you clocked out and walked you to his car, "Where are we going?"

"I know a place," He opened his car door and gestured for you to get in.

You smirked and climbed in the car, watched through the window as he smiled back at you and gently closed the door.

JANUARY

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you walked away from the speakeasy. Your breaths steamed out in front of you and you tightened your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep the heat in. It wasn't long before you heard an additional pair of shoes behind you and you rolled your eyes, "Jack, I said I don't want to talk."

"I know," He slowed once he caught up to you, "But could you at least let me drive you home? In complete silence?"

"I don't mind the walk."

He scoffed and shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, "You're gonna get sick and then you're gonna have to come see me, which seems like the last thing you want."

"There are other doctors in Pittsburgh."

He laughed, "Sweetheart, you ever see a doctor in this city that's not me, I'd consider that infidelity."

You hummed, "Sounds like a you problem. Didn't you promise me silence?"

"Yeah, that was taken off the table when you refused to let me drive you."

You stopped cold on the sidewalk, causing him to nearly walk straight into you, "You can't walk me all the way home without a jacket, you'll freeze."

He raised his eyebrows, "So you agree that it's too cold to walk?"

You really didn't want to get in his car. You'd be warm and enclosed in a place where the smell of him infiltrated your every sense. He'd be close enough for you to touch. To remember all the times you'd made out with him in that car like a couple of teenagers. Including the day you met.

You chewed the inside of you're cheek, "You'll be quiet the whole ride?"

He made an X over his heart with a finger, "Promise."

You leaned your head back to look at the sky, thought about begging God to intervene on your behalf, remembered you didn't believe in God, and sighed, "Fine."

And so Jack walked you back to his car, opened the passenger door just like he had a few months ago, closed the door gently before walking over to the driver's seat.

You crossed your arms over your chest and turned to look out your window. It was bad enough the whole car smelt like him, like his bed, like his clothes. If you looked at him too, you thought you might combust. Or worse, cry.

So you sat like that in silence for a minute or two. Until you felt the warmth and heaviness of his hand on your thigh.

You whipped your head around, "You promised—"

"I said I would be silent," He murmured, "I never said anything about touching you."

You stared stubbornly down at his hand on your leg. His fingers were slowly fingering the edge of the slit in your skirt, teasing.

You scowled in his direction, "This is cheating."

"I didn't know we were playing games." He glanced in your direction, then back to the road, "Besides, I thought we were on the same team." He said softly.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the window, "It was you who broke up with me, Jack." You said quietly. But you made no move to push his hand away.

His fingers slipped past the fabric of the skirt and you were struck dumb by the feeling of his calloused fingers stroking gently against your inner thigh, "Starting to think that might have been a misunderstanding."

You felt your resolve slipping. You started the night hurt and confused, as you had been for several weeks now, lashing out like a wounded animal. He had tamed you so easily, a few gentle words and the stroke of his fingers against bare skin and you were putty in his hands again. It would've made you angry if not for the desperate yearning that grew and expanded in your chest with every moment that passed.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you were practically vibrating in your seat. Jack had grown more brazen, slipping his hand higher and higher between your legs. You had conceded a couple of minutes ago, spreading your legs to provide him more access and had heard his sharp intake of breath when he noticed.

He parked the car, removing his hand from your leg as he did, and then you both turned at the same time to watch the other.

"We should probably talk," Jack said.

You inhaled slowly and shook your head, "You promised me silence."

He tilted his head, gave you a look that suggested he was fighting a losing battle against himself, "C'mon, kid." He said softly, "We shouldn't be doing this if we're not gonna sort this out first."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, "You should've thought about that before you put your hand up my skirt."

He scoffed, but was unable to argue further because you were climbing across the cabin of the car so you could straddle his lap. You had to hike your skirt up all the way to your waist to accommodate the spreading of your legs and Jack slowly inhaled through his mouth at the sudden feel of you on top of him.

"Until we get out of this car," You whispered, forehead leaned against his, "No more talking. Please."

His eyes latched onto yours and his hand cradled the side of your head, anchoring you to him. He nodded against you, helpless to deny both you and himself a taste, just a taste, he told himself.

His first kiss was hesitant, almost like he couldn't believe he was here again, tasting you like it was the first time. He kept his hands on your face, slipped his tongue into your mouth, thought that kissing you again felt like having his favorite dessert again after going years without. He knew this taste, this feeling, but having been denied it so long it felt like the voltage had been ramped up, every sound and sensation feeling brand new because of the intensity.

You had your hands in his hair, pulling at it as you whimpered into his mouth and ground your hips down onto his growing erection. Most of his time with you had been seared into his brain, but he had somehow forgotten how needy and desperate you had always seemed to be. You had always kissed and fucked like you thought it was the last time you would ever do it and it drove him insane every single time. So insane, in fact, he was starting to think he might cum—

There was a tapping on the glass of his window and the cabin of the car lit up with sudden light.

"Oh, fuck," You cursed and scrambled off him, rushing to pull your skirt down to cover yourself.

Oh fuck was right. A security officer for your complex was staring disappointingly into the car, gesturing for Jack to roll down the window. He sighed heavily before he complied and cleared his throat, "Evening, officer."

The officer gave Jack a bored look, "Do either of you live here?"

Mortified, you pulled your hands from your face and looked towards the officer, "Hey, Trey. Slow night?"

Jack fought a smirk at your attempt at a joke, covered it with a cough into his fist.

Trey sighed, "Think you'd mind moving the party inside so I don't have to call the cops?"

"Of course—" Jack started to say, but you cut him off.

"He was just leaving, actually," You said and began to climb out of the car, avoiding Jack's piercing stare, "Sorry, Trey. Won't happen again."

Jack watched through the windshield as you walked off with Trey, not even looking back at him. He debated following after you, ask you why the fuck you would just walk off like that after driving him nearly out of his damn mind.

In the end, he leaned his forehead against his steering wheel, counted to thirty and then backwards to zero, and then drove home.

NOVEMBER

It had been two and a half months since Jack had first met you, since he became absolutely enamored by every thing about you. The way there was constantly a pen somewhere on your person, be it in your hair, behind your ear, or between your teeth. How you smiled easily and everyone fell in love with you the second you opened your mouth. He didn't think you knew it, the power you had over people. But he saw it every time, the quick descent for even the most grumpy of visitors at the library. You'd have them laughing and smiling just a minute into a conversation. Much like how you had charmed him that first day.

Constantly, he found himself thinking, that's my girl. And, recently, with more frequency, I love you.

But he hadn't said it yet because he couldn't get past the gnawing feeling at the back of his mind that something was off. That you weren't in it the way he was. You gave him the sweet eyes you gave everyone else and he started wondering if he had just fallen in love with you the same way everyone else did. That there was nothing special or unique about it to you.

He had been confident after your first couple of dates, and then more so when you began staying the night or the weekend.

But you never stayed more than two nights in a row, even if he asked you to. He cleared a drawer out in his apartment, a shelf in his closet, but you kept living out of your duffel. You never left your toothbrush, even after he showed you where he kept his in the medicine cabinet, made space for yours. And they were little things, sure, things that maybe he would've ordinarily dismissed if it wasn't for the fact that he felt completely head over heels for you. And he wasn't sure how to be with you if you didn't feel the same.

And then, he had asked to meet your friends. He had asked you to come over for dinner over the phone and when you said you couldn't, that you had plans with friends, he asked about those plans.

"Oh," He said, trying to keep his tone casual, "Is it a girls only thing or are significant others going?" Because he knew enough about your friends, when you had talked about them, to know that most of them had long term partners.

You had admitted that it was an insecurity of yours, that you often felt like the only one without a partner.

"Uh, I think… I think partners were invited, yeah."

He let the silence fall, thought you would invite him yourself. But then second after second passed and he couldn't help it, "Okay… Do you think I could come along?"

He felt humiliated when you didn't immediately say yes, when he heard only static and your faint breaths for nearly a minute.

"Yeah, that would be… nice." You said finally.

"Look, I don't…" He ran a hand through his hair, "I won't come if you don't want me to."

"No, no, I want you to." You said quickly, "I do. I just, they can be… difficult sometimes. When I introduce them to someone new."

"Okay. I can handle it."

And he thought he could. But it was clear from the moment he sat at the table that they didn't want him there. That they thought he was just the flavor of the month and he'd be gone soon. Apparently, you did this whole thing often. Bringing new partners around. And again, he was left feeling like the connection he thought the two of you had wasn't all that special.

When he drove you home in silence that night, he saw you turn to him in his peripheral, "Is everything… okay?"

He wasn't sure if he was overreacting or not and probably, he should have just honestly communicated what he was feeling. But then he thought, why bother? In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't been seeing each other all that long. Why burden you with his emotional baggage? Why beg for you to love him the way he was trying to love you when you seemed so disinterested?

"Yeah, everything's fine." He glanced your way and smiled.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" You asked when he parked in front of your building.

He shook his head, "No, that's okay. I have some errands to run early tomorrow, I wouldn't want to wake you on your day off."

You watched him for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, okay."

You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, scratched at his stubble lightly, just the way he liked before kissing him. Jack savored it, the feeling of your mouth against his, the taste of your tongue in his mouth and your fingers running through his hair. He pulled away first, pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a slight smile, "Goodnight, kid."

He broke up with you less than two weeks later.

JANUARY

You were re-shelving some returned books that evening when you felt the presence of a patron nearby, staring at you, likely waiting for some sort of assistance. "I'll be with you in just a moment." You said, as you always did, to make sure they knew you knew they were there.

"Not a problem, I'm pretty patient."

You spun to see Jack standing there, leaning against a chair and smirking at you.

"What're you doing here?"

He shrugged, "I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me. I've been calling you for days."

Every time you saw him again, your stomach twisted painfully. After your brief lapse in judgment the other night, you had decided it would be best to just lock him out for good. You didn't want to hear what he had to say because how could he possibly justify all the hurt he had caused? There was nothing stopping him from doing it again once he got bored or when you did something to scare him off. Which was bound to happen, just as it had the first time.

"I thought you would get the hint." You said pointedly and walked around him to get to the trolley with returned books on it.

"I really just would like you to hear me out. Just for a couple of minutes, okay? And if you still want me to go, I'll go. You'll never hear from me again."

You threw up your hands in exasperation as you grabbed some books, "Fine. Be my guest."

"I broke up with you because I didn't think you liked me as much as I liked you."

Your hand froze still on the book you were re-shelving and you turned your head to look at him, "Bullshit." You spat.

He put a hand over his heart, "Honest. I had no idea you were in love with me."

You scoffed, "How could you—God, I could barely ever breathe around you because I liked you so much." The backs of your eyes burned, and you brought a hand to your chest, "It still feels like that, actually."

"You always had your foot halfway out the door—"

"That's not true—"

"I made room for you!" He was whisper shouting, conscious that they were in a library, "I made room for you in—in every corner of my life. I invited you to everything, I wanted to show you off everywhere we went. I wanted to be with you all the time, I was always asking, begging you to stay, and you never seemed to want to." He ran a hand through his hair, "You wouldn't even leave your toothbrush at my place."

You stared at him, dumbfounded, and then shook your head, "No… No, those were tests."

He frowned, not sure if he had heard you correctly, "What?"

Finally, you sighed and sat at an empty nearby table and Jack followed, "When… When you invited me to stay over for longer, or to… to leave my toothbrush, you were testing me to see if I was going to be a clingy girlfriend. And I wasn't. I always said no. I followed the rules."

He stared at you for a long time, taking in what you had said and softened his voice, "Baby, what rules?" He asked softly.

Your eyes were glassy and you pushed your palms into your eyes, "I have… rules that I follow at the beginning of every relationship so that… So that I don't seem as attached as I am."

He shook his head, "And why would you do something like that?"

You laughed humorlessly and looked up at the ceiling, as if to force the impending tears back in your eyes, "Do you know the feedback I always get when men inevitably leave me?" You sniffled and looked at him, "That I'm too clingy or needy. Or I want to move things along too fast and they want something more casual. That it freaks them out how into them I am and they just don't want to hurt me. That I said I love you too soon and it scared the shit out of them. And I liked, loved, you so much I was desperate to make sure that didn't happen with you."

You shook your head and looked down at your hands, "I guess I over corrected."

Suddenly, Jack was angry. Not at you, but at every man who had ever made you feel like you were too much.

"Hey, look at me," He said softly, waited for you to oblige him, "You should never ever feel like you have to dim your feelings or make yourself more palatable for anyone. And you absolutely do not have to do it for me."

You didn't seem like you believed him, so he went on, "The girl I fell in love with wears her heart on her sleeve and cares so damn much about everything. I knew who I wanted from the moment I saw you and it's the girl who organizes events to keep her community safe and walks into tables when someone flirts with her."

Finally, you laughed and looked up at him, "You mean that?"

"Yeah, I told you, you should walk into tables more often. I'm a sincere guy."

You laughed again and then hiccuped, "No, not that. When you said you love me?"

He leaned his forehead against yours, "Yes, I love you. And I want you to leave your toothbrush in my medicine cabinet."

You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes, "Do you think me and my toothbrush could come over tonight?"

He cradled your cheek with his hand, stroked his thumb along your cheekbone, "It's an open invitation. Whenever you want for as long as you want."

You sighed and closed the distance between you, kissing him gently and slowly.

"You know, now that you've said this," You swallowed and opened your eyes, "That I can be as in love with you as I want and act like it, that you've unleashed a monster?"

He shook his head slowly, "If you're a monster, I'm a monster."

You snorted, "Very poor reference to The Notebook."

He faked offense, "I thought it was pretty romantic, actually. My point is…" He forced eye contact with you again, "You are with a man who has absolutely no shame showing how in love with you I am. And I am very in love with you. So, do your worst. You won't scare me off."

"This is Dr. Robinavitch."

"Robby?"

That was you on the other end he knew instantly, your voice small and tinny and sounding like you'd been crying.

Still, though, he was incredibly confused and your name tumbled from his lips in a rush, "Where're you calling me from?"

"The police station."

"Wh—? What happened? Are you okay?"

He heard your shaky breath, static in his ears like sand, "I'd rather not talk about it right now if you don't mind." Your voice sounded watery, like you were trying to swallow tears, but also slow and nearly slurred, "I hate to ask you for anything, but do you think you could come pick me up? They won't let me leave until I'm either sober or someone comes to get me."

Well, that explained the slurred speech, "You're drunk?"

There was a pause on the other end before you answered, "Very."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear as he searched for a pair of pants to pull on, "Yeah, I'm on my way."

You sighed in what he thought sounded like relief, "Thank you."

He had a million questions like why the fuck were you in a police station and where was Brian? Why was it him you'd called? Surely there had to be someone else, anyone else you'd call in a crisis? He wasn't upset about it, in fact, a small part of him was pleased that you were turning to him when you needed help. But after your last conversation, he just didn't understand why.

He drummed his fingers against his steering wheel anxiously as he pulled into the police station, hurrying into a near jog as he went inside.

When he told the officer at the desk he was there to pick you up, the man sighed and said he'd be back. He returned soon after with a bag of your things and Robby frowned.

"What did you take her in for?"

"Disorderly conduct," He said and then handed Robby a clipboard to sign.

Robby skimmed it quickly and signed at the bottom, "You took her things away and locked her up because she was publicly intoxicated? I work in an ER you usually just drop them to us if they're that drunk."

"She threw a glass bottle at a guy."

He frowned. Brian? Granted you were drunk, but what could he have done to piss you off so bad in one night that you'd throw a bottle at him?

A moment later, you were brought out, roughly tugging your arm away from the officer who led you out. Your eyes were swollen and puffy and you swiped your things from the counter on your way outside, never looking at Robby.

He followed you outside hesitantly, watching as you dug through your bag: first for your phone and then for a cigarette.

He leaned against his car next to you, hands shoved in his pockets, "Are you alright?" He asked as gently as he could manage.

You took a couple of drags of your cigarette before your face crumpled. Before he could move to comfort you, you doubled over and heaved the contents of your stomach onto the pavement.

"Ah, shit—" He muttered and then bent to your level, taking the still lit cigarette from your hands and rubbing your back.

And he realized pretty quickly that you weren't just vomiting, you were sobbing. You shrugged off the hand he'd put on your back in an attempt to comfort, still crying and now that the vomiting had passed, it looked like hyperventilating.

Reaching into his car he grabbed some napkins and bottled water. Opening the bottle, he poured some out on a napkin and held it in front of you, "To wipe your mouth."

After a moment you took the napkin from him, wiping down your face and then taking the opened bottle of water, beginning to chug it.

"Hey—hey—" He reached for the bottle and gently tugged it away from you, "Small sips or you're just gonna throw it up again."

After the two of you stood side by side for a while, you slowly sipping on the water, Robby broke the silence again, "Do you wanna talk about whatever happened?"

"The date was bad and I drank too much," You said, voice hoarse from the bile that had burned it just minutes ago, "I wanted to leave, but I was drunk and couldn't break from him and he took me behind the restaurant and tried to…" You trailed off and when he looked over at you, your chin was wobbling and your eyes bloodshot. It broke his heart, but he waited.

"I kneed him in the groin and he left me alone, but I think—I don't remember exactly, but I think he called me a cunt and spit at me—And so I threw the bottle at him." You breathed in slowly, "And then it turned out the police had been parked there the whole time."

Robby tried to swallow down the wave of protectiveness he felt. He didn't think that was what you wanted or needed right now, "So Brian's in there too?" He asked, nodding towards the station.

You laughed, "No. Apparently only my behavior was considered a threat to the public. He left of his own free will."

He slowly turned his head towards you, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

You shook your head, "Nope."

Robby scoffed and then pushed himself up off the car, feeling levels of righteous anger he hadn't felt in a long time, "Why don't you get in the car, I'm just going to have a quick talk with the officers inside—"

"Don't bother, Robby," You said, your voice sounding weary and exhausted, "It doesn't—It won't make a difference—I just wanna go, please."

He looked stubbornly from you to the police station. You did look exhausted and more sad than he'd ever seen you. He was used to seeing you angry and defensive, but right now you looked defeated. Vulnerable.

"Okay," He said, nodding, "Where do you want me to bring you?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, frowning and seemingly growing frustrated the more you thought about it.

"You still don't trust me with your home address?"

You shook your head, "No, no I just…" Your chin wobbled again and you looked up towards the moon, "I can't go home. Like this. I'll have to ex—I don't wanna go home."

There was something you weren't telling him there, but that wasn't exactly new so he just nodded, "Okay. I can… bring you to my house. I'll sleep on the couch."

This seemed to frustrate you as well until finally you sighed, "Okay. Fine."

When you got to Robby's place, he watched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, eyes wandering around his place, cataloguing.

"Do you want something to eat?" He asked.

As if waking from a trance, you slowly turned your attention back to him and shook your head, "No."

He nodded, and then gestured for you to follow him down the hall to his bedroom. He went into the ensuite bathroom, laid out an extra toothbrush for you and clean towels, then came back out to search his drawers for a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers.

But you were staring at his bed, eyes distant.

"I've changed the sheets," He said slowly, "Since Noelle was here. If that's what you were wondering."

You nodded, but remained quiet, avoiding eye contact with him. It scared him, how quiet you were. He'd never, ever seen you like this, bereft and despondent.

"You can take a shower if you want, you're welcome to anything in the bathroom," He placed a pair of boxers, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie on his bed in front of you, "Here are some clean clothes. I'm gonna grab you some Liquid IV, water, and ibuprofen. Do you want anything else?"

You blinked quickly and shook your head. He wished there was more he could do, that you would allow him to do more. But right now he wasn't sure what you were thinking at all. And so he quietly began to back out of the room—

"Robby?"

He looked up and you were looking at him with watery eyes, your arms still hugging yourself, "Thank you." You said softly.

He nodded, "Anytime."

***

You thought you wanted to be alone. You showered with soap that smelt like Robby and brushed your teeth with his spare toothbrush and got dressed in his clothes that also smelt of him. And when you came out to his bedroom, all of the things he promised you were sitting on his nightstand, bedroom door closed again.

You climbed onto his bed and crawled across it to reach the ibuprofen, knocking back some water and then reaching for the Liquid IV. You crawled into his sheets, turned off the bedside lamp, sat in darkness enveloped by his things and his smell and were surprised when you found it all comforting. That his presence all around you made you feel safe.

Maybe if you were feeling more yourself, you would have been more apt to interrogate the feeling. Maybe you would've been strong enough to resist it. But spending the night with someone who didn't understand you, to almost being assaulted, to being thrown in jail, all while trying to fight off an alcohol induced panic attack, you just wanted to give in.

You were tired of fighting it. Of fighting him. So after about forty five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you climbed out of the bed and padded out to the living room. You heard the familiar sounds of a Jeopardy! rerun as you rounded the corner and saw Robby sitting on the couch, glasses on his nose as he read something on his phone.

A floorboard creaked as you approached and he looked up immediately, "Hey," he said softly, placing his phone down next to him, "Do you need something?"

Wordlessly, you walked over to him and straddled his lap, burying your face in his neck and wrapping yourself around his body. He stiffened for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you in turn, leaning back into the couch as he held you to him. His warmth and the feeling of his chest expanding against yours immediately soothed you. After just a couple of minutes in silence, him holding you tightly against him, you could feel that sleep was going to overtake you soon.

"Will you come to bed?" You asked quietly, "I don't wanna sleep by myself."

"Sure," he said, his voice rumbling through your chest as he spoke, "Whatever you want."

You pulled back slightly, pressing your forehead against his, "But do you want to?"

His eyes roamed over your face and then his hands reached up to cradle your cheeks, thumbs running gently over your cheekbones, "Yes," he said eventually, "very much."

You got up out of his lap and held his hand as you led him back down the hall to his room. When he climbed in bed next to you, you scooted as close as possible, pressing your nose to his.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked after a few minutes, his thumb resting on your hip and rubbing lazy circles into the soft flesh there.

"Hm?"

"Why was it me you called tonight? After the way we left things earlier I thought I'd be the last person you'd call."

You almost laughed, "Truthfully, I had no other choice. They took my phone and told me I wasn't allowed to call anyone unless I knew their number by heart. But I found your business card you gave me when we were in Jamaica in my pocket with your cell number on it."

"Ah," he said sounding disappointed, "Okay, that makes more sense."

"But I'm glad I called you," you said quickly, "I'm glad I'm here."

"This wasn't how I wanted you to finally take me up on my offer to stay the night."

"No," you nudged you nose into the crook of his neck, "me neither."

He stroked absently at the back of your head for a few moments, "I'm sorry the date with Brian went badly."

You chuckled, "You don't feel vindicated?"

"No, I—No. I know we argue, but you looked absolutely devastated when I picked you up. I know not just because of Brian, but I—" He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that even though we butt heads and I know I can be a dick, I… care about you. I don't like seeing you upset. I've never seen you like that and I— to be honest with you, it scared the shit out of me."

His admission struck a chord in you and you pulled back again to see his face in the dark.

He cared about you. Your fingers ran aimlessly over his cheeks and beard. It was funny to hear him say it. He didn't even know you, not really. He only knew the select pieces of you you'd decided to give.

He didn't care about you, he cared about the version of you you'd created specifically for his consumption.

But still, you'd let yourself pretend, if only for tonight.

"Thank you," you whispered and pressed your mouth to his, "I'm not always very kind to you, either."

He kissed you back for a moment or two before pushing your face gently to the side so he could kiss your cheek instead, "I like when you're mean," he pressed an additional kiss to your temple, "Go to sleep, now."

In his arms, sleep came quickly and held you in its grip the whole night through.

***

Your alarm was trilling, shattering the morning tranquility. At some point in the night, you'd turned onto your side and Robby's arm snaked around your waist like a vice. As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you felt his deep breaths lightly fan your neck.

You hummed softly as you woke, wiggling your hips in an attempt to free yourself of his grip.

"Turn it off." Robby mumbled into your neck,

"Gladly, if you'd free me from the cage that is your arms."

Robby's laugh rumbled behind you, "Can't you turn it off without abandoning me?"

You felt heat spread up your neck and to your cheeks, "So dramatic." You scoffed and pulled lightly at his arms again, which he removed from your waist, though he whined the entire time.

With your phone in your hand, you turned off the alarm and Robby immediately tugged you back to him, eliciting a quiet oof.

When you saw the time, 9AM, you quietly cursed. Neither of you were working today, but you needed to get home so Cecelia could leave. You'd promised her you'd be home by 8AM the latest if you stayed out, but in the chaos you'd forgotten to adjust your alarm the night before.

"What's wrong?" Robby mumbled, and then when you threw the covers off yourself and started to climb out, he groaned an indignant, "Hey!"

"Sorry, I really have to go." There were several unread texts and missed calls from Cecelia on your phone and you were trying not to overreact, mostly because you didn't want to betray anything in front of Robby. Anymore than you had the previous night when you were drunk. Sober, now, you were already beginning to regret calling him. You should have toughed it out in jail.

"Okay," He stretched in bed, arms reaching towards the headboard and his t-shirt rode up slightly as he did. With effort, you tore your eyes away, "Let me drive you."

Scrolling through Cecelia's texts quickly, there was nothing about your dad in them. She just wanted to know where you were. Quickly, you texted her back apologizing and let her know you were on your way home.

"That's okay, I'll just call an Uber."

He scoffed, "We're back to this, now?"

You sighed as you walked around the room, gathering your things, "Thank you for picking me up last night and letting me stay here, but I shouldn't've—I think the boundaries we have are good. I don't want to ruin anything—"

"You stayed here last night and the world didn't end. I don't understand what the problem is."

At this, you laughed, "Yes, I think you've made it abundantly clear you don't understand and haven't from the second I walked into PTMC."

"Maybe I'd be more understanding if you ever actually explained anything to me."

You ran your hands over your face in frustration, "We keep going around in circles, Robby, aren't you exhausted?"

"No," He shook his head and sat up, watching as you walked around the room, "I could keep going all day."

When you turned back to him, he had a closed lip smile. He was enjoying this. Asshole.

His hair was mussed and the sleep still hung heavy around his eyes, making him look soft, younger. If you were honest, you wanted to crawl back in his arms and make out with him, slow and messy. You wanted his hands under your shirt, playing with your nipples until you whined and ground down onto him. You wanted him to crawl between your legs, licking you slowly and tenderly, an arm firmly bracketing your hips to keep you from squirming, his warm brown eyes looking up at you drenched in desire—

Clearing your throat, you looked away. Frankly, you thought you'd be bored of him by now. But every time you saw him, it reignited the embers in your chest, fire spreading through your veins. It was becoming evident that this was more than just sex, now.

"Thank you again for coming to get me and letting me stay, I really mean that. It was—Well, it was very nice of you."

You heard him laugh behind you, "You say it like you're shocked I could be nice to you."

"I'm not shocked," You lied, slinging your bag over your shoulder, "Men that are regularly sleeping with me are typically nice to me. I'm a great lay."

You tried to instill your words with as much false confidence as possible, but as his eyes scanned your face, a hand scratching lightly at his beard, you got the sense that he knew you were a fraud.

He nodded and finally broke your gaze, "Just let me drive you home, alright? I won't show up unannounced, ever, I promise."

You really couldn't afford the Uber right now. You bit your lip before groaning, "Fine. But we have to go now."

When Robby pulled outside your house, he leaned over the center console first to examine it. It was a mid century, two story home built of brick and slanted roofs. The yard was in need of being mowed and the rest of the landscaping wild and unkempt.

"You live here?" He asked, a note of confusion in his voice. You figured his confusion likely came from the price range of this neighborhood. You assumed he knew Pittsburgh well and this neighborhood was known for upper middle class families settling down in the eighties. It wasn't somewhere a single woman in her thirties lived by herself on a nurse's salary.

"Yes," You said, and looked towards the house. As you did, Cecelia opened the door, the two dogs running past her and into the yard, barking at Robby's parked car.

"Whose that? Those dogs yours, too?"

"I'm done answering your questions," You said, turning back to him, grinning. You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, felt him continue to lean in even as you pulled away, "Thank you again. I'll wash your clothes and bring them back—"

"Don't bother," he said, voice husky as he gripped your chin between his fingers, "I like the way they look on you."

You hated the way your stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice. You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes at him, "Okay. I'll see you at work."

"Not sooner?" He asked, his tone light and teasing. You both were off the next couple of days, but you'd be back a day sooner than he would.

You hummed, "Goodbye, Robinavitch."

As you jumped out of the car, the dogs ran up to you, pouncing up and down around you as their tails wagged.

"Hello boys," you cooed, running your hands over each of their heads in turn as you walked towards Cecelia, "Mr. President," You said, mocking formality, "and Mr. Vice President. Did you miss me?"

They trotted up after you onto the stoop until you stood in front of Cecelia, "I'm sorry," you said immediately, "It was… Not the night I anticipated, I should've texted or called."

But Cecelia was frowning, looking from the oversized clothes on your frame to the car still parked out front, "Whose clothes are these?" She pulled at your sleeve, "You said the EMT was a young guy, but that looks like an old man from here."

You clicked your tongue as you walked past her into the house, the dogs running quickly along your legs back in, "Cecelia, I didn't know you were such a neb-nose."

She pointed her finger accusatorily, "You take that back, I am not nebby. I just worry about you since your last relationship, I just think someone your own age would be better for you."

You sighed, "Yes, well, I tried. Date sucked."

She shook her head, "And you ended up in someone else's bed?"

"You know I love you," You said quietly, "But I really don't want to discuss my love life with you."

You felt her stare, both judgmental and motherly, as you pretended not to notice, "Fine. I'll stay out of it." She said, throwing her hands up emphatically. She wouldn't stay out of it, you knew, but you appreciated the well meaning lie.

"How has he been?"

"He's good," She said sincerely, smiling, "He's playing chess with Tim."

Tim was Cecelia's husband. You smiled, "Really? He hasn't played in months."

She nodded and gestured for you to follow her. Down the hall, the low voices of two men floated down the hallway.

You were delighted to find your father and Tim sat at the table by the big window in the piano room, sun warming their faces. And your father was smiling and laughing, even as his hand shook while he moved a board piece.

"Oh, look, the girls have joined us," Tim said jovially. He grew up in Wisconsin and had this dynamic, magnetic personality. The first time you met him you knew immediately why Cecelia loved him. He balanced her.

It was a good day for your father, it seemed, because when he looked at you you could tell he recognized you. He fumbled for your name, but got it eventually, and while he told you about his day, said he was happy you stopped by to visit, you found yourself getting misty eyed. Again, this was the kindest you could recall him being with you since you were very small.

What was it about fathers who lost interest in their daughters once they reached adolescence? The overnight change to full blown femininity too detestable to look past.

You had full journals probably still tucked beneath these floor boards lamenting reasons why he would not, or could not love you the way you needed. And now, when you had well and truly given up on childhood fantasies of unconditional parental love, the plaques in his brain had progressed in such a way that he couldn't quite remember you fully, but he still knew he loved you.

All this time and underneath it all the only thing left was love, the one thing you had wanted more than anything, but he had withheld.

You had thought you wouldn't feel anything when your father died, resigned to indifference many years ago, but the revelation that he likely had always loved you and had just been too stubborn to show it had grief clawing up your throat.

"Did you talk to his neurologist yesterday?" Cecelia asked, "His tremors are getting worse, his meds will need to be adjusted."

"Fuck," you swore softly, "No, sorry, I forgot. I'll call her today."

You felt Cecelia's imploring gaze on you in your peripheral, but tried to ignore it.

"Dana mentioned she passed along some memory care facility brochures to you."

You sighed, "Of course she did."

"I want to be clear that I'll support you no matter what, but I really think you should at least tour those facilities. If you're going to move him somewhere, it'll be easier on him to do it now while he still has some understanding."

You swallowed thickly, "I know that."

"His Medicare will probably fund most of it, more than they would for care at home."

You nodded silently, all things you knew, but had been putting off thinking about. Because in the back of your head was the conversation you'd had with him when he was first diagnosed. His very matter of fact tone as he told you he was making you his health care proxy and also that he would never forgive you of you used those powers to put him in a nursing home.

You didn't blame him for it. You'd worked in a nursing home for a few years as a CNA while you were in school and even in best case scenarios they seemed miserable to you. The memory care facilities weren't quite the same as a nursing home, but you figured the sentiment remained. You supposed that was a conversation you should have had with him at the time, but you had been desperately trying to avoid any hard conversations then. In fact you had resented him for getting diagnosed right when you'd got engaged. It was horrible to even think it, you knew, but it felt like he was trying to steal your happiness.

"You ready to hit the road, Cece?" Tim had stood and joined his wife, stretching an arm comfortably around her shoulders.

You walked them out, thanked them profusely for staying and then closed the door behind them. As Franklin whined with concern at your legs, another sound had you resting your forehead against the wood of the door.

You had few pure—untouched by anger or hurt—memories from childhood. One that stuck, sweet like candy in your teeth, was your father singing Here Comes the Sun to you while he pushed you on the rickety swing set in the backyard.

Now you could hear him in the other room, humming the melody softly, like a hymn.

***

Brian was back in the ER and your head was throbbing. You were doing your best to avoid talking to him, but you had noticed the subtle whispers and fist bumps to his fellow EMT when he walked by you.

When he had passed the hub, you bent over the counter, closing your eyes for just a moment or two. You had gotten very good at removing yourself from the ER even if only for a moment.

"Hey," That was Cassie's voice behind you and you straightened again, forcing a smile, "Isn't that the EMT you went on a date with last week?"

You hummed, "The very same."

"How did it go? Did you get laid? Tell me you got laid, I need to live vicariously through you."

You gave a short laugh, "No, I did not get laid."

She frowned, "Well, why not? I assumed that was why you didn't show for dancing."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that Cassie, I wanted to come, I just—Something came up. The date was horrible, though, if it's any consolation."

There must've been something in your voice that gave you away because she looked you over, not in judgment, but it was instead sympathy you found in her eyes as she tilted her head, "Are you alright?"

"McKay?" It was Javadi's voice that cut through the din of the ED before you could answer, "I need to present 13 to someone, are you free?"

"Sure," McKay said and draped her stethoscope back over her neck before turning back to you, "We'll talk later?"

You weren't planning on that, but you nodded anyway. Took a slow steadying breath and blew it out slowly as you looked down at your iPad—

"Good morning—"

"Jesus, fuck." You swore and rounded on Robby who had somehow managed to sneak up on you. At your shouting, the pain in your head intensified for a brief moment and you winced, "Could you announce yourself before doing that next time?"

He frowned and leaned his hip against the counter, scooting back enough so he could see your face, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You said through incredulous laughter, "Why does everyone keep fucking asking me that?"

"You winced," He said, ignoring your question, "Something hurt?""

You sighed, "I just have a headache, I'm fine." At that moment, you looked up and accidentally locked eyes with Brian, who smiled at you. Smiled. Not sneered. As if nothing was wrong.

Robby tracked your gaze and you noticed the way he stiffened, "Is he bothering you?"

"No," You said quickly, "We haven't spoken."

"Well why the fuck is he looking at you like that then?"

You heard the undercurrent of danger in his voice and frowned, finally looking at him. He was watching Brian with an almost predatory gaze, his forearms braced against the counter, "I don't know," you said quietly, "Because he's deranged? Maybe you should stop staring after him with those fuckin' wolf eyes."

He turned back to you, "Wolf eyes?"

You rolled your eyes, "You're looking at him like a jealous boyfriend," You lowered your voice, "If you don't cut it out people are going to start talking. Everyone knows I went out with him."

He shook his head marginally, "Sorry, I forgot how puritanical you are over the idea of people knowing who you're sleeping with."

You blinked slowly at him in shock, and then laughed, loudly, until eyes were on both you and Robby. The sound was off key and grating and you took a small delight when Robby grimaced.

It was ridiculous, really, that you were dealing with this. And you had no one to blame but yourself. Calling him in a weak moment, letting him take you home, letting him convince you he cared about you. It was naive and stupid and you knew better.

"Wait—" He said immediately, "Hold on, that came out wrong—"

"Over and over, Robby, you continually prove my point of exactly why we should not be involved in any way."

"Oh, that's—" He scoffed, "Come on, that's an overreaction, the other night we—"

"Here you go," McKay sidled between you and Robby and set some ibuprofen in front of you.

"I—" You frowned, "What's this?"

"It's ibuprofen." She said, smiling.

"Well, yes, I can see that. Um, why?"

"Oh, it was obvious that you have a headache, that's why you're acting all snippy. You were like this a couple of weeks ago, same deal," She turned back to Robby and looked between the two of you, "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Robby started, "Yes, actually—"

"No," You said quickly instead, "Robby was actually just headed to… Central 11 so Dr. Santos can present." You raised your voice slightly since you knew Trinity was behind you, trying to chart, "Isn't that right Dr. Santos?"

She sighed heavily, but you heard her push back from her workstation, "Sure, no time like the present."

"Fantastic," You looked back at Robby in front of you, a smile pasted to your face, "Off you go, Dr. Robinavitch."

He watched you, temper evident in his gaze as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. But in the end, he simply pushed himself off the counter and walked off with Santos.

McKay slowly shifted her gaze from Robby to you, "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?" You took two ibuprofen capsules in your palm and tossed them back with a sip of Diet Coke.

She lowered her voice slightly, "Am I crazy or are you sleeping with Robby?"

At her words, you gasped, but there was still soda in your mouth and so you accidentally inhaled it, burning down your lungs and up your nose.

"Oh, shit, sorry—" She said, but there was laughter in her voice as she thumped you over the back, "Are you okay?"

You waved her off and grabbed your water bottle to clear the irritation. Once you'd caught your breath you turned back to her, "What the fuck would make you think that?"

Over her shoulder, you saw Princess trying to fight a smile behind her, Perlah not far off. And you knew they all meant well, really. These were probably the three people in the ED least likely to judge you. Princess and Perlah you had been unsure of in the beginning, but they really did keep their gossip to themselves and they never treated you differently once they knew. McKay was probably the one other person here you would trust with sensitive personal information.

But it didn't make it feel any better. With everything you had going on at home, when you came here all you wanted was to do the work. The work that had always given you purpose, that you'd been good at, your near pathological desire for organization and control put to good use. Now though, all because of some stupid lapse in judgment when you were on vacation, you were becoming the topic of all the wrong conversations.

McKay opened her mouth slowly, "Well… There just seemed to be a lot of weird tension when I walked up here."

"Yeah, well, we were having a disagreement. About work."

"Right, but there was also the fact that he was glaring at Brian as if he'd committed some sort of personal crime against him."

You felt your frustration flare, "What, like they were fighting over the last piece of chicken?"

McKay frowned, "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you—"

"You didn't," you said sharply, "I have to go do a room check."

You walked away before she could get another word in, but you heard the whispers behind you from her and Princess and likely Perlah too.

What did it matter, you thought. Likely you were only a temporary replacement for Dana anyway. She'd be back before you knew it and maybe you'd pick up a shift here and there but that would be it. They'd replace you in a second. What did it matter if they talked? What did it matter if Robby planned to toss you aside when he got bored?

What did any of it fucking matter? You had no fiancé, no real friends, your dad was about to die and he never liked you much anyway, pretty soon you'd have no job as well. Thirty plus years and nothing to show for it. The throbbing in your head increased as you walked around the ED.

"I need to talk to you," You said when you found Robby.

"About what?" He said shortly.

"Privately." You said, and grasped his forearm before tugging him out of the emergency room and up the stairs.

"Where are you—? Now? You're taking me here now—?"

You were leading him up to the abandoned floor where the two of you had met up many times after shift for sex. But it had always been after shift. Never during. The two of you would never leave the ED unattended like that. But you were feeling reckless.

He continued to follow you even though you failed to answer his question and you took this as consent.

When you pulled him inside and empty room and closed the door behind you, immediately and without preamble, you were on him. Lips locked with his and hands braced against his chest, you kissed him both hungrily and viciously, teeth nipping roughly at lips.

He made a sound of surprise at the back of his throat, but he kissed you back, hands lifted to cradle your neck.

It was only when your hands slid down to unbutton his cargo pants that he pulled away. Grunting, he slid his hands down to brace your wrists and pulled you off and away from him, "Wait—Hold on—What're you doing?"

You scoffed, "What does it look like I'm doing?" You said quickly, and relatched your mouth to his, desperate for distraction, desperate to stop the self loathing thoughts that pounded like nails against your skull.

"Hey—" He pushed you away again, "C'mon, kid, knock it off."

This time, when he pushed you away, you groaned in frustration, the sound growing into an almost scream, "What is your problem?"

He tilted his head as he looked at you and when he spoke his voice was full to the brim with agitation, "What's my problem? Just ten minutes ago you were telling me emphatically how we shouldn't be involved anymore and now you're trying to jump my bones. You don't see how I might be experiencing fuckin' whiplash?"

Your eyes burned and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to dissolve them. The last thing you wanted was to break down in front of him again. You tried desperately to hold onto your rage, though with each passing moment you felt your grip slipping.

"Sweetheart," He tried again, his voice tender and warm, "What's going on?"

You shook your head and tried to laugh it off, looking up at the ceiling, "I don't know. I don't fucking know. I feel like I'm losing my mind." You sniffled before you continued, though you still couldn't look at him. Couldn't look him in the eye while you spoke. "Everything—Everything's wrong and I feel like—Every day I wake up and I realize that my life is already over."

Your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn't properly communicate what you were feeling. Never mind that you didn't want to really tell him anything, you just wanted to fuck. Why couldn't he just shut up and fuck you?

After a few moments of silence passed between you, you heard him chuckle softly. Frowning, you finally looked at him and he was shaking his head, a hand running over the back of his head.

"You're a child," he said, deathly quiet.

You stood, frozen for a moment, certain you'd misheard him. But he didn't say anything else.

"What?" You asked, hated how small your voice sounded.

"You're so young," He said, and he sounded exhausted, "You don't know anything about the world yet, you're just a baby."

His voice was so gentle when he said it, as he closed the distance between you again, you weren't sure he meant to be condescending, to be cruel, as you thought he had been at first.

No, he had been incredulous, in wonder. And sure enough, when he was standing just centimeters from you again, his took your face gently in his hands, thumbed at the wetness beneath your eyes, the sensation of the calloused pads of his thumbs against the soft skin of your cheek had your eyelids fluttering closed.

He was calling you a baby, that was fine, you wanted to be babied. You wanted desperately for someone to baby you, just for once for the burden to be taken off your shoulders. Please, you begged him with your eyes, please take care of me.

"Your life's just starting," He said quietly, "It's only just begun."

And because you couldn't stand the sincerity in his voice, you couldn't bear not to needle him, "Oh, such a big man," You said teasingly, "why don't you show me then?"

He almost looked like he wanted to sigh, like he couldn't understand why you were defaulting back to cynicism, to sarcasm, when he was trying to be earnest for once. But the moment passed and then he was kissing you, soft and slow.

"I don't—Think we have time for this—" You said, impatiently tugging at his pants again.

But he took your wrists in his hands, pinned them to the wall above your head with just one of his hands, "Be quiet," he said roughly against your mouth, his beard rubbing your chin raw, "For once just be quiet and take what I give you."

Before you could think about protesting, he pushed his free hand between your legs, slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants. You sighed, eyes rolling back and squirming against his hold on your arms uselessly when his fingers stroked your folds. He sucked at your neck, occasionally dragging his teeth along the skin of your neck and then running his tongue along the goosebumps that rose in his wake.

He knew your body well by this point which meant his fingers knew exactly where to go, the rhythm at which to stroke, exactly how much pressure to apply to your clit with his thumb until you were whining after an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were unable to feel shame about it just then, that would come later. Your muscles clenching, your mind having gone blissfully blank the second he'd touched you.

"There she is, sweet girl, so quiet when I touch you, hm? Should I let you come? You think you've earned it?"

You sighed, "Please?"

"Whatever you want," he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he sped up the rhythm of his fingers and you fell apart around him, his hand dropping your wrists to hold you through it as you shuddered and broke, "Shhhh," he hushed your moans with kisses to your mouth, "You're okay, sweetheart."

For a few moments, you believed him.

But only for a few.

When you were back at the hub, Robby nowhere to be seen, missed calls on your phone from your father's neurologist and the memory care facilities you'd promised to tour, McKay asking if everything was okay, you taking every last bit of strength trying and failing not snap at anyone else. The weight was staggering again without Robby's hands to share the burden.

***

Robby watched you closely the rest of the shift, recognized the signs that you were sinking beneath the waves, allowing the current to pull you out to sea. Your clipped insistence that everything was fine, your snapping at staff, your aversion to any real discussion quickly disguised with sarcasm and wit. It was like staring in a fun house mirror, something like his worst nightmare.

What really alarmed him was when you'd pulled Whitaker aside after you'd found out he had repeatedly informed an Alzheimer's patient that her husband had passed. He hadn't heard all of it, but had walked past in time to hear you lay into him.

"But—" Whitaker was saying, "She should know he's gone, I was just—"

"You were just what?" You snapped, "Putting your feelings in front of the patient's? Alzheimer's was in her chart it's not a fucking mystery she's not going to remember what you tell her. You tell her once. It doesn't stick? Well then you start telling her he's at work or he's in the other room, but you don't retraumatize her again and again. How do you think you would like to relive the moment you found out you were a widow again and again and again?"

"Everything okay in here?" Robby announced himself and you had immediately blown past him.

"Fine," you said, "But maybe you need to give your residents sensitivity training so they stop fucking torturing patients."

You were gone before he could say anything else.

He remembered what Dana had said to him not too long ago: Do not pull her down into the pit with you.

He hadn't meant to, but wasn't that always the case with him? He never meant to hurt, but he always ended up maiming anyway. Especially the ones he cared about the most.

After shift, he sat outside by his motorcycle and waited for you. You always seemed to stay until whoever was there to relieve you kicked you out. Something else he was familiar with: The ED was a curse, but it was also the only thing that kept him above water.

"Hey," He said when he saw you walk through the sliding doors of the ambulance bay, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

You walked over to him, but your eyes roved over his bike, a slow smirk on your face, "What d'you have, a death wish?"

He smirked halfheartedly and avoided your gaze, "I wanted to talk about what you said earlier."

"Unfortunately I talk quite a lot, so I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

"About us not being involved anymore. I think you were right, I think we should stop seeing each other."

He was met with uncomfortable silence. It stretched and frayed until it snapped.

"Well, isn't that incredibly responsible of you." Your tone was impressively sardonic, the venom in your voice palpable, but he had expected this. Had become accustomed to your constant push and pull from the moment he met you. You would be unhappy no matter what he decided. You didn't know what you wanted, you were in no state to figure it out. If he was right about you, the internal war you waged took up most of your strength day in and day out.

"It doesn't mean we can't be friends or that I don't care about you—"

"You know what, you don't have to do all this. I'm going home. Goodnight."

"I mean it," He said, quickly reaching out to grab you to stop you from walking away, "Look, I can see you're struggling and I wanna help—"

You wrenched yourself from his grasp, fury in your eyes, but he saw the way they grew wet as you backed away from him, "Please just leave me alone." You said softly, voice ragged.

He watched helplessly as you walked off, unsure of what to do next. Briefly, he considered following you home, but he'd promised he wouldn't ever show up unannounced.

He thought about the woman who'd stood on the stoop waiting for you and calmed significantly. You had someone, he assumed maybe your mother, waiting for you at home.

Living with your parents would explain a lot about your secrecy. Maybe you were even embarrassed about it. But he didn't think there was any shame in that, considering you had recently left a serious relationship and then moved across the country.

It was good that you weren't alone. You'd be fine. You didn't need him. He ignored the ache in his chest at the thought and got on his bike.

***

You hadn't spoken to Robby in weeks. There had been times before and after shift where he'd tried to pull you aside and you'd mumble some excuse about not having time, about another nurse needing you, whatever you needed to say to get away from him. And while before, you thought he would've invited this as a game, and likely part of you would mean it to be interpreted that way, you no longer wanted to play. You knew he could sense it, had seen you pack up the playing cards, no longer caring if he saw your hand. And so eventually he left you alone.

It surprised you the way you missed him at night, when your only company was the shadows on the walls and the Jeopardy! contestants in the TV. When you couldn't sleep, you'd try and remember the night you'd slept in his sheets with his arms wrapped tightly around you. On the worst nights, you'd put on his hoodie he'd given you. But it had long since lost his scent.

"Honey, is there something else going on at work that's bothering you?" Cecelia had asked as you walked around the grounds of one of the memory care facilities you'd agreed to tour, the name of which escaped you now, "I know the last few weeks with your dad have been hard, but I get the sense there's something else going on."

The last few weeks with your dad had been more than hard, they'd been so challenging at times you had begun fantasizing about disappearing or walking out in front of an ambulance as it pulled into the bay. The fantasies grew more detailed, your coworkers noting the organ donor heart on your license and having to keep you on a ventilator until it was time to harvest your organs. You felt you'd have more purpose as an organ donor than a living, breathing person. You had seen enough caretaker burnout over the course of your career to understand what was happening, but you weren't sure exactly what you were meant to do about it. Your support network began and ended with Cecelia and you had already asked more of her than you were comfortable with.

The issue of Robby paled in comparison, but it still added to your depression. Yearning for a man you were never meant to have, that you knew from the beginning was temporary, who discarded you just like you always knew he would. The first time you had opened up to him and he'd fucking stabbed you straight through the heart. It hurt, yes, but it was also humiliating. It had been the exact thing you had been trying to avoid. You felt stupid and you felt like a child for missing him. Missing something that never quite existed, you reminded yourself.

"I'm fine," You'd told Cecelia, forcing a smile and then turning your attention elsewhere, "It says they have someone come play the piano for the residents twice a week, I think he'd like that."

You had been late coming in this morning, Dana once again covering for you, because your father had a cold and the low grade fever was causing his hallucinations to become more severe. You'd worried about leaving him with Cecelia, but she swore she could handle it. She was always insisting on getting you out of the house lately. Had asked more than once just this week if you needed her to stay overnight.

Of course, you did not, on account of being a huge bitch to all your friends at work and now not speaking to Robby.

"Hey, everything alright?"

You looked up from your iPad to see McKay standing next to you. You gave a small smile, still feeling remorseful for snapping at her weeks ago though you had since apologized.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, I just worry whenever Dana covers for you," She shrugged, "You don't have to tell me what you have going on at home, but I'm here, you know. If you ever want."

For a moment, you considered it. She was looking at you so earnestly you were almost overwhelmed with the urge to unburden yourself—

But then there was a commotion in the ambulance bay.

The doors slid open, a stretcher came into view. It took a few seconds for your brain to process, but you recognized your father on that stretcher, Cecelia behind and talking to the paramedics.

Robby had rushed up to the stretcher, calling out for McKay as he did, and you stared at them, dumbstruck until Robby called out your name, "What's open?"

You blinked and looked down at your iPad quickly and directed them to trauma one.

Then, in something of a daze, you followed after them. Listened as Cecelia debriefed them and stood quietly in the doorway.

"…Fever's spiked to 101, his heart rate's tachy—"

Your father was thrashing, calling out for your mother and you felt absolutely paralyzed—

"Alright, let's get him some risperidone—"

"No, no risperidone," You interjected, "He's already on quetiapine, you can up his dose if you want."

Robby looked up at you, frowning, "Do you know our patient?"

You swallowed and inhaled slowly, "Yes. He's my father and I'm his healthcare proxy."

The room went very still. And as the moments passed, Robby's eyes widened marginally and the familiar signs of pity began to flood his expression. Intense revulsion flooded you and it was a feat to continue holding his gaze.

"Evie—" Your father said weakly, his hand reaching for you. You swallowed down any emotion and went to him, taking his hand.

"Who's Evie?" Robby asked quietly.

You blinked rapidly as you smiled at your father and then looked up at Robby, "My mother."

***

That morning when Robby had walked in and saw Dana at the desk instead of you, his anxiety had spiked.

"Where is she?" He asked as calmly as he could manage.

"Good morning to you too."

"Dana—"

"She's fine, she'll be here later."

You were fine. Fine, he told himself. But his wild heartbeat wouldn't hear it. He pulled out his phone instinctively. He wanted to hear your voice, wanted you to tell him yourself you were alright. He unlocked his phone, opened his messages and scrolled to your message thread. Stared at your last exchange of messages from weeks ago. Him asking you to meet him upstairs after shift, you giving the message a thumbs up.

He hated the way things were between you now. He worried about you constantly and now he couldn't even get you alone to get a read on you. But each time he saw you you seemed more and more withdrawn, your usual irritation and wit replaced with mostly indifference.

"I'm worried about her," He said slowly to Dana, "I know you won't tell me what's going on in her personal life, but since you know and I don't, are you absolutely positive she's fine? Because she really doesn't seem fine to me."

She looked up slowly, "What has you so concerned, Cap?"

He sighed, "She's combative with staff and patients, she's making mistakes, she's withdrawn—She—She told me a few weeks ago she felt like her life was over."

Something shifted just slightly in Dana's face before she masked it, "Are you still sleeping with her?" She asked, lowering her voice.

Robby ran a hand over his face, annoyed with having to diclose this information to Dana, "No."

Dana interrogated him with her eyes before lowering them back to her iPad, "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

When you came in, he'd watched carefully as you spoke with Dana. He noticed when the smallest hint of irritation traveled across your face and tried as subtly as possible to eavesdrop.

"—went to the tours?" Dana was saying.

"Yes, I have to follow up with a couple of them."

"You're running out of time, kiddo."

He didn't get to hear what exactly you were running out of time for because Samira whisked him away to get his opinion on a patient. But always, you were in the back of his mind.

And then, when there were just a couple of hours left of the shift, the stretcher rolled in with the dementia patient. He noted for a second the way your face fell when you saw it and filed away the oddity, calling out to you to give a room number.

When he saw you just a few moments later, hovering in the doorway, he didn't think much of it. But then his eyes went to the woman who was reporting the patient's current condition. His first thought was that the way she was speaking so clinically made him think she must be a home health nurse. His second thought was that she looked a lot like the woman he remembered seeing on your stoop when he dropped you off a few weeks ago.

Before he could fully process all that, you had interjected about the antipsychotics he had been about to order.

And suddenly the pieces of the puzzle seemed to slot into place.

The dosage of quetiapine seemed to calm your father down and once they got a handle on his fever enough to begin ordering tests and a chest x-ray, you slipped from the room.

"You're the man who gave her a ride home a few weeks ago?" The nurse—Cecelia, he learned—said to him as he was putting in orders at the computer.

"Yes," He said and gave her a smile, "You can call me Robby."

"Robby," She said, seemingly turning the name over in her head, "Dana mentioned you."

He raised his eyebrows, "You know Dana?"

Cecelia nodded, "We went to nursing school together, sorority sisters. I was the ER charge nurse at Presby for a long time, retired during Covid. But I trained your new charge nurse over there, recommended her to Dana when she mentioned she might want to step down."

Robby hummed, yet another puzzle piece to slot in, "Well I'm sure you've heard horrible things, then."

Cecelia laughed, "No, no. She's always said you were a good man." He watched as she peaked through the door at you, "You were seeing each other, but now you're not?"

Robby felt a flush climbing up his neck, "Something like that," He sighed and then added quickly, "Is she—Is she the primary caregiver? Is her mother around? Siblings?"

Cecelia shook her head, "It's just her. I help out while she's working."

He ran his hand over the back of his head, "So she leaves here and then is his around the clock care?"

"She hasn't talked to you about any of this?"

He sighed, "No, no she hasn't. But this explains a lot about… Well, things are starting to make a lot more sense to me."

"Dana and I have been trying to convince her to move him into a memory care facility for months now, but she's very stubborn."

He chuckled, "Tell me about it."

"Maybe she'll listen to you."

His mouth fell open as he looked at her, slowly shaking his head, "I don't think… We're not on the best of terms right now."

"Please," She said earnestly, "She can't keep going like this. If she hears enough people who care about her telling her that maybe it'll get through that thick head of hers."

Robby wanted to tell her that he wasn't sure you even believed that he cared about you, but he himself had noticed what was now obvious to him as caretaker burnout. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't try.

"I'm gonna call our night shift charge to see if she can come in early to relieve her."

Cecelia nodded, "Thank you."

When Lena came in more than an hour early, you looked mildly annoyed, but in the end thanked her and headed for your dad's room. Once the shift was officially over and he'd handed off everything to Shen, he went to see you.

He stood in the doorframe for a few moments. Your father seemed to be sleeping and you were in a chair by his bed, leaning over your knees, face in your hands. He knocked as gently as he could manage, but you still jumped. Upon seeing him, you deflated a bit and looked back at your hands, elbows still braced on your thighs.

Since you didn't demand he leave, he took that as invitation to come in and so he took the stool and dragged it next to you before lowering himself to sitting.

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly after sitting in silence with you for a few minutes.

"Better. Fever's stable. I'm glad he's sleeping, he hasn't slept in days. Waiting for his X-Ray to come back, but it's likely pneumonia." You rubbed harshly at your face, "I listened to his lungs last night and I didn't hear anything."

He didn't bother trying to tell you not to blame yourself. He knew it would fall on deaf ears.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked softly.

You stared ahead and didn't answer him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You're quiet for so long he thinks you'll ignore him again, but then you start talking and your voice wavers like a branch in the wind, but you don't falter.

"Whenever a woman gets rolled in here, seriously injured, dying, crashing, everyone's first thought is who she is in relation to other people. Whose wife, whose daughter, whose sister, whose mother. It's so sad she's dead because she has kids, or she's married. It's always bothered me. I never felt like when a man rolled in here anyone felt the need to tally up all the ways they were important to other people in order to matter. But a woman—well—it's time to do some arithmetic to see what her life is worth to us.

"And day in and day out, I've done the same math for myself for years. What would my life be worth to my staff if I needed help one day? And year after year it's the same number," You paused and cleared your throat, "I've never liked my father and he's never liked me. My mother left us when I was still a baby and I know he's resented me for that my whole life. I did everything I could to get out of here as quickly as possible and just when I thought I'd done it, I moved away, I was engaged—"

You paused and looked down at your hands, "He got diagnosed and then… I don't know. It all went to shit. I told you when we met that my fiancé cheated on me, but that wasn't true. I told him, the man who was planning to love me for better or for worse, that I needed to come back to Pittsburgh to care for my father and he essentially said 'no thanks, I'm good,' as if I'd asked him if he wanted to come run errands with me. And so when I moved back here by myself, having lost everything, I already resented my father and it was beginning to make sense why he's hated me all this time. I took everything from him and now he's taking everything from me."

Robby couldn't help his sharp inhale, the hopelessness in your voice as you spoke staggering and terrifying. There was truth to what you were saying. As much as he'd like to deny it, now that you'd said it like that, he knew what you meant about the "math" that was done when a woman was in the ER.

Even still, he didn't like the direction you were going with this. It didn't mean it was right. It certainly didn't mean your life was worth less than anybody else's. He thought, surely, deep down you must have known that. He reminded himself that you hadn't slept likely in days. You weren't yourself.

"Sweetheart—"

You held your hand up to quiet him, "I knew people would look at this—you would look at this, me being a caregiver, and think I'm being noble. I'm not. I'm doing it because I have to. I don't want anyone pitying me or making me into some fucking superhero. The math hasn't changed."

Part of him wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you, to make sure you understood that he didn't agree with this assessment at all. It didn't matter how you viewed yourself if the glass you were viewing yourself through was distorted. But he also knew that wouldn't be received well right now. He'd been there himself, was still there as of this moment.

"Fine," Robby sighed after a few moments had passed, "Then I think you're a selfish asshole. Is that what you want to hear?"

Still bent over your legs, your shoulders shook just slightly and when you turned to look at him, eyes glassy, he realized you were laughing. You nodded, "Thank you."

After you'd sat in comfortable silence for another few moments, you cleared your throat, "Shouldn't you be getting out of here?"

He shook his head and reached out for your hand, clasping it between both of his, he brought it to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to it, "No, I'm right where I need to be."

It took a while, but he eventually convinced you to let him take you home. Only because you started grumbling about having to take care of the dogs. You insisted that you wanted to come right back afterwards and he let you think he agreed with that plan, but he was gonna try everything he could to make sure you got some sleep before he took you back. You were both back on shift at 7 the next morning and if you didn't get any sleep he was gonna call in Dana. If you did sleep, he'd let you work as he knew you'd likely prefer that. By then, hopefully your father would be moved up to ICU.

At your house, he watched you with the dogs. They mostly ignored him and pranced around you playfully. Your face lit up as they did and he stood with you on the deck out back as you watched them run around the yard.

"You don't have to stay, you know," You said quietly, "I… appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm fine."

"I want to be here."

You huffed a laugh through your nose, "That's strange, because I recall you saying you didn't want to see me anymore just a few weeks ago."

He rocked back and forth between his feet, "I didn't know what you needed then. I don't think you knew what you needed either and I thought I was making you worse. I was wrong, I'm sorry."

Slowly, you turned to look at him and when he met your eyes, they glinted wet in the moonlight, bloodshot from what he assumed was lack of sleep along with the cacophony of emotions you had to be experiencing.

"Well, what do you want?" You asked, tears in your throat, "What do you need?"

This was something he had asked himself over and over since he met you. Why did he, over and over, keep coming back to you? Months had passed and it was still you he longed for when he was alone at night. Your voice he wanted to hear, your laugh, the sounds you made, your constant needling, the taste of you, all of it. In his quiet moments and in the moments when his thoughts raced, still, he returned to you.

At first he'd denied it to himself. You'd made it clear whatever was between you didn't exist outside of hospital walls. But then there was the night you'd called him from jail. The night you'd slept in his bed, sought him out for comfort. You could be so gentle, so vulnerable when you wanted to be. Delicate, like the first blooms of spring, petals easy to crush in his hands if he wasn't careful. And he'd felt so proud that you'd showed him that side of yourself after everything.

He found he wanted to be worthy of it, your softness, your vulnerability. And he realized what that meant, the truth of it. But it scared the hell out of him. Not because of you, but because of him. He knew he couldn't afford to mess this up, knew it because despite everything, despite how hard he knew you'd tried to stay away from him for fear of him breaking you, you'd succumbed to him anyway.

You understood him in ways he didn't think anyone else ever had. You identified all the worst parts of him immediately and even if you'd wanted it to, they hadn't deterred you. He could do the same for you. He would.

But not yet. He didn't want to make declarations or promises when you were clearly on the brink.

Gently, he took your face in his hands, gently ran the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, "Right now, I want you to get some sleep. And I wanna be with you while you do, if you'd let me."

You looked up at him, chin wobbling slightly, but you nodded.

You allowed him to lead you by the hand back into the house, the dogs following closely behind. When he asked where your bedroom was and you simply shook your head and led him to the TV room instead, he didn't push.

The couch was large with one corner extending into a chaise lounge. He sat there, sighing at the aches and groans of his joints as he did. He coaxed you to him and you rested your head in his lap, legs stretched out and away from him so your bodies created something of a right angle. One of the dogs, the one he thought was called Franklin, hopped on the sofa and wiggled his way into your arms pulling a smile from you that had his stomach flipping.

He rested his hand against your face, running it soothingly from the crown of your head down the column of your throat. He was pleased when you fell asleep within minutes, both you and the dog eliciting soft snores in unison. Sleep came for him soon after.

***

You woke up long before your alarm, neck stiff and the imprint of Robby's cargo pants on your cheek. He was still asleep, snoring loudly enough that it made you want to laugh. Carefully, you detached yourself from him and got up.

The dogs trotted after you and pushing the sliding door open, they ran outside and you followed, a pack of cigarettes and lighter in your hand.

There was a thick fog that settled beneath the horizon and covered the yard. The dogs broke the quiet of the morning as they played and chased after one another.

You had nearly finished smoking your cigarette when the sliding door opened behind you and you felt Robby at your back.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments, watching the dogs play. You allowed yourself to lean back into him just slightly, his broad chest warm on your back.

"I can call Dana if you don't wanna work today. Yesterday must've been a lot for you." He said quietly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, "The alternative is sitting in his hospital room all day. No thanks, I'll work."

You felt his hands work their way around your waist to your front, holding you to him. For once, you allowed yourself to sink into him.

"Your relationship with him is really not good then?"

"It's fine now, I guess," You said, "Now that his memory's going. It's hard to be angry with someone who can't remember what they did."

He bent his head and pressed soft kisses to the skin of your neck. His beard tickled and you instinctively shrugged your shoulders up.

"Why do you do it?" He asked quietly, "Cecelia mentioned you'd toured a memory care facility. If you don't even have a relationship why won't you sign the admission papers?"

Your body went cold and you disentangled yourself from him, "That's why you're really here, huh? Cecelia's agenda?"

"I—No, it's because I couldn't tell the last time you slept and I thought you might hurt yourself—"

"Me?" You scoffed, "Mr. Donorcycle is worried that I might hurt myself?"

He ran a hand over the back of his head, "We're not talking about me right now, we're talking about you."

"And when have we ever talked about you?" You were nearly shouting now, "You think my behavior's erratic? You should look in a fucking mirror."

He shook his head, "Listen to yourself. I only asked a question and you're deflecting so hard I think you might pull a muscle."

"Because you're a fucking hypocrite! If I wanna kill myself by working myself into the ground and taking care of my father 24/7 that's my business! Just like you riding around Pittsburgh without a helmet on practically begging for a car to hit you is yours. But at least I'm honest about it!"

He scoffed, "That's not—" He sighed, "It's not the same thing."

You smirked and took a step closer to him, "No?" You lowered your voice until it was almost like a caress, "So when you're riding that bike and you see a car coming from the opposite direction with just a yellow line separating you, you've never thought about just… leaning a little to the left? And when you thought about it and felt relief instead of fear, where did you put that feeling?"

Your faces were close together, close enough that when you met his eyes you almost faltered, the depth of the sadness you found almost too much.

After a moment, you swallowed and took a step backwards, "You and I aren't that different, Robby."

Putting your fingers in your mouth, you wolf whistled and the dogs came running as you slid the porch door open for them to run through, "I'll see you at work." You said and followed the dogs inside.

***

Robby felt a bit nauseous for most of the day, thinking over what you'd said to him. He knew you were right, but what he had wanted to say was that after meeting you he felt himself changing. The impulses lessened when you were around.

It wasn't just sex to him anymore. At some point things had changed without him quite realizing it. Until you brought up to his face what he'd been avoiding for quite some time, that he didn't see a reason to keep going. But now the truth of it was, he found himself looking forward to things. Looking forward to seeing you, to talking to you.

It didn't fix him the fact that you made him want to live, he knew this. For one, there was no guarantee that you felt the same. That it was anything other than just sex to you. But it had gotten him thinking about the fact that maybe there was more he'd be missing if one day he drifted over that yellow line.

You avoided him most of the shift, only giving him updates when he asked. If you had a question specifically for him you'd taken to sending one of the nurses or residents to ask him for you and report back. It felt ridiculous.

When he could, he snuck away to see your father who was still in the ER having been diagnosed with pneumonia. He knew from what he'd been able to overhear when he got close enough to you that you had been calling the ICU charge nurse every hour, begging for a room. Your father didn't like the noise or the lights. You'd closed his door and turned his lights off, pulling the curtains.

The fact that he was still down here meant he was still Robby's patient. So under the guise of just being a doctor, he went to sit with your father. Most of the time, he slept. Sometimes, when he was awake, if he wasn't dreadfully confused he would ask for you. Not for your mother, for you.

"She's working," Robby would say, "She's the charge nurse. A lot of responsibility. This place falls apart without her."

Once, only once when he seemed in a very cheerful mood after Robby had brought him a turkey sandwich, he'd smiled, "Charge nurse, eh? Just like her mama."

Robby's stomach sank, "Does she know that her mother used to be a charge nurse?"

"Oh, yeah," Your father folded his hands over his stomach and stared at the ceiling pensively, "That was how we met. I was a pharmacist at the hospital she worked at."

Following in the footsteps of the mother you never knew. Were you trying to prove to yourself that you could do what she couldn't? It should be her here taking care of her husband, but instead it was you caring for him on top of working in the ER. Your mother who hadn't been able to withstand the pressure of a baby and a husband and a career. Did you think less of her for it? Was it starting to scare you that maybe you could understand why she had run away from it all?

"Young man," Your father said, interrupting his thoughts, "Could you please help me to the bathroom?"

Robby nodded, "Of course."

***

You hated Robby and you were also obsessed with him. This is what you were thinking all throughout shift when you weren't too busy to think or you weren't thinking about your father. You were both enamored and repulsed by his closeness. You wanted him to touch you, but the sound of his voice had you running in the opposite direction. It was maddening.

Miraculously, you were not thinking about him at all when you heard the sound of crashing equipment coming from your father's room. Your head whipped towards the sound and before you'd even really registered it your feet were moving.

When you ran into the room, you were startled to find both your father and Robby sprawled on the floor, his IV having been knocked down in the fall.

"Jesus—What the fuck?"

Robby groaned, eyes shut tight, then immediately, "I'm fine, I'm fine, your father—"

But your father seemed largely unharmed, though a bit in shock, "Dad… Dad are you okay?"

He frowned, "Fell on my ass."

Your lips twitched, "Does anything hurt?"

"No…No…" Then his eyes traveled to your face and lit up, "Hey, pumpkin. What're you doing here?"

The ache in your chest returned, as it usually did when he called you "pumpkin." But you forced a smile, "Just checking on you. We gotta get you up though—"

Robby sat up, hissing in pain as he did and pressing a hand to his back, "You have to get another nurse—Can't lift him yourself—"

You laughed and then sighed as you got a good grip on his transport belt, "What do you think I do when I'm at home, huh?" You turned your attention to your father, "You ready, dad?" He nodded, "Okay, on three. One, two, three—" Lifting with your knees, you got him to standing and then back in his bed.

Sighing, you lowered yourself back to the floor where Robby was, still wincing in pain, "You hurt yourself, old man?" You teased.

He looked up at you with disdain and as he did, you saw he had a small cut on his forehead, "You hit your head?" You asked frowning, reaching out to get a better look.

He allowed it, closing his eyes at your touch. Your heart fluttered a bit, seeing the effect your touch had on him, "Might've hit the IV stand on the way down."

"Can you stand?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can I stand—Of course I can—" As he pushed himself up he interrupted himself with a groan, "Fuck."

"Ooo—" You said sympathetically, "Okay, let's—The bed next door is empty, let's go over there—sit down."

Once he was sat down, you took his face in your hands again, moving his head gently so you could look at his cut better.

"How's it look, doc?" A familiar joke that had the tension rushing out of you. As an NP you could diagnose some illnesses and order medications on your own which led to you having to constantly remind patients that you weren't a doctor. You had done a brief stint in Family Medicine years ago that had had you murmuring "not a doctor" in your sleep. This was one of the few things about yourself that you had willingly divulged to Robby.

Despite yourself, you smirked, "I think you'll live. Why were you moving him anyway?"

"He had to use the bathroom."

You frowned, "Okay… That's a nurse's job. You should've come and grabbed me."

You had begun to clean up his cut and he closed his eyes again at the contact, "I know this'll piss you off, but you shouldn't be treating him while he's here and I know if I told you to reassign him to a different nurse that would also piss you off, so. I was trying to ease some of the burden off you."

There he went again, being thoughtful when you were trying to be angry with him, "Doctors suck at transport." You said softly.

He chuckled, "Yeah, noted."

"Did you pull something in your back?"

He shook his head and winced as he gingerly stretched his back, "I'm okay, just need to sit for a couple more minutes. You gonna tell everyone about this?"

"Oh, of course." You said and were pleased when he smiled.

"I called Hemsley House this morning just… out of curiosity. They think they'd have a room for him by the time he's discharged if you're interested."

You tried to stifle the annoyance and looked down at your hands, "Robby—"

"I'm just asking you to think about it. You don't have to do anything. Baby, look at me."

The pet name caught you off guard and your eyes shot up. He was looking at you with such care and affection, his big brown eyes impossible not to drown in.

"You have cared for him as well as you can from home, but you're running on fumes. If you don't hurt yourself, you'll hurt him. Is that what you want?"

You swallowed, "He made me promise I wouldn't send him to one. A long-term care facility. Said he'd rather be dead. But I can't afford around the clock care and Medicare won't pay for it either."

After a moment, Robby sighed, "I don't mean to be unempathetic, but I'm just not sure in this situation that that's an option. I would argue keeping him at home with you is unethical, even."

You scrubbed your hands over your face, "There's a condition in his will, when he dies. That if I put him somewhere else, I get nothing. And I don't… I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that I spent most of my savings moving back here and the cost for all his medical care has eaten up almost everything else and I don't even know how I'm gonna pay for his burial—"

"Okay, hold on, slow down." He looked over your shoulder, as if he could see your father from here, "He really did that? With the will? That seems fuckin' cruel."

You nodded, "He was a mean bastard. He still can be, sometimes. Not like he was, though."

Robby ran a hand over his head and sighed, "Alright… Well let me think it over…"

You scoffed, "What is there to think about?"

"I'm gonna find some way to help you."

"Robby," you sighed, "you really don't have to, it's fine—"

"It's not fine!" He said sharply, "If anyone else came in the ER in the shape you're in and told us they were taking care of their very sick parent all on their own while working full time, we'd have social services down here in a second."

You ground your jaw and looked away from him, "I told you already," you said softly, "that if I wanna put myself in the ground with him, that's my business."

"I don't accept that," he said, shaking his head, "I need you."

You rolled your eyes, "You do not. Dana will be back before you know it, and the hospital won't pay for us both—"

"No," he interrupted, "No, I didn't mean like that." He took your hands in his, squeezed them gently until you were looking at him again, "I need you."

His face was so earnest as he said it and your heart was hammering in your chest. But he couldn't—You were already shaking your head, "No, no that's not true either. I'm just the flavor of the week. You'll replace me with whatever pretty young thing walks through the doors next—"

"No, this is different." He said firmly, "I'm not going anywhere this time, I want you."

You were still standing and he slid his hands around to the backs of your thighs, tugged you gently forward. You didn't want to trust him. Not after the way your last relationship had ended and whatever this was with Robby had been so tumultuous. But the thought of having someone else around, of not being so alone was unfairly enticing. So when he gripped your chin and pulled you down until your mouths met, you didn't stop him.

Sighing into his mouth, your hands found purchase at the base of his neck. He pulled you impossibly closer until you were nearly straddling his lap. He kissed slowly today, luxuriously even, his tongue sliding against yours to savor instead of to claim.

"Dr. Robby—" The door opened, bringing the din of the emergency room with it and you startled, jumping backwards and turned to see McKay in the doorway. She looked shocked, but also—pleased, "I'm so sorry," She said, looking down at the floor as she tried to stifle a smirk, "We need you in trauma two, Robby."

He ran a hand over his beard and nodded, seeming horribly unbothered by the whole thing, "I'll be there in a minute."

McKay left, letting the door shut behind her and Robby turned to you immediately, "Don't freak out, okay? McKay already knew."

You closed your eyes, biting down on your lip in an attempt to steady yourself. Every moment that passed you felt as though things were spinning more and more wildly out of control—

"Hey," Robby's voice again, closer this time. When you opened your eyes he was stood in front of you, he brought up his hand to cup your cheek and despite yourself, you leaned into his touch, "We're gonna figure this out, together. Okay?"

You weren't sure that you quite believed that, but you blinked and then nodded. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then he was gone.

Later, at the hub, McKay approached you slowly like a hawk circling its prey.

"I'm not gonna talk about it so don't even bother," You said without looking up from your iPad.

She snickered, "Fine, fine, I was just gonna congratulate you is all."

"For what?"

"Uh, well—I've seen Robby take many women to bed in this hospital—"

"—God, Cassie—"

"—But I don't think I've ever seen him in love before. It's nice."

You paused and then looked up, frowning, "You're insane."

McKay shook her head, "I'm not. That man is deeply obsessed with you."

You had to stifle a smirk as you rolled your eyes, but as you looked up, your eyes found Robby's across the room and watched as he instantly softened, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upward.

You looked away quickly, alarmed at the feeling that was now stirring in your chest. One that you thought had been laid to rest many moons ago: Hope.

***

Robby didn't bring up Hemsley House again, for which you were grateful. Instead, when your father got discharged, he came home with you and helped you take care of him and made sure you were taken care of as well.

He hadn't complained about sleeping on the couch, but on one of his days off had set up a new bed in one of the empty spare rooms. Once before, he had asked why you didn't sleep in your childhood bedroom, but you couldn't give him a clean answer, only that you hated being in that room. It reminded you too much of when, as a teenager, you'd felt like a prisoner in your own life.

As the weeks passed, you were growing accustomed to having Robby around, but you knew the care taking was also beginning to take a toll on him as well. He got along well with your father. In fact, your father had begun to prefer his company. Asking him to play chess when he was in a good mood. When he needed to go to the bathroom, he preferred Robby to take him no matter how you tried to insist. It compounded you with guilt, watching Robby day in and day out help without complaint. You felt like it was only a matter of time before he got tired of it all and left. And while you felt like you'd prepared yourself for that possibility, there was a large part of you that realized the heartbreak would be inevitable.

It was a Friday and Cecelia had offered to stay the night with her husband so that you and Robby could have a night to yourselves and Robby was acting almost giddy about it. He had both your overnight bags in his hand as he unlocked the door to his house.

"What d'you think?" He asked as the two of you walked into the entryway, "Should we go out? Or we could stay in, make dinner, rent a movie…"

You shrugged, but the idea of doing anything other than loafing around exhausted you, "Whatever you want," You said, smiling.

Immediately it seemed, Robby noted your lack of enthusiasm. That was something else you'd been having a hard time getting used to: his inhuman ability to see right through you. Or maybe you had always been easy to read, but no one else had cared to open the book.

"Or…" He said slowly, "We could just order take out and have really loud sex."

You laughed at that. It was true that most of the time you had had sex, it was like a secret was being kept. Either at the hospital or at your house with your father sleeping just down the hall. It required discretion, often leading to hands pressed over mouths the stifle the sounds of an orgasm. But not at Robby's house. At Robby's house, you could be as loud as you wanted.

"Yeah, I think that sounds good."

He smirked and took a few steps closer to you, dropping your bags, "Yeah?"

You nodded, "Please." You hated begging, but had found over the course of the last few weeks that Robby really liked it when you told him what you wanted, better when you begged as you panted beneath him. Sometimes begging him to come led to him being turned on so much, he'd grind himself into the sheets as his tongue swirled around your clit. You also enjoyed it when he begged, so you couldn't exactly blame him.

Sure enough, with just that one word you watched Robby's entire demeanor shift.

"You need the stress fucked out of you, baby?"

A familiar chill ran down your spine at the shift in his tone, the easy dominance and soothing cadence. He was not what you expected from a dom in bed, and you thought in fact he could be better described as a switch, much like you. He could tell you what to do, call you his best girl, spank you and spit in your mouth, but all while worshiping you. All while praising you, telling you how good you were doing, how good you felt. No one else could make him feel so good. It always had you melting beneath him. But there were times when he also wanted to be taken care of, yearned for you to boss him around a little bit. And you were happy to oblige.

But you thought tonight, you'd really prefer it for him to take the reins.

"Yes," You said, already breathless in anticipation.

He led you to his bedroom and gently pushed you to sit on the edge of the bed, crawling over you as he kissed you and lightly tugged at your clothes. Quickly, you were naked beneath him, him still fully dressed. You liked that, the slight power imbalance of you being bare before him. He kissed slowly down your neck until he reached your breasts, slowly licking and sucking on each nipple until they hardened against his lips.

Already, you were worked up, your hand attempting to slip between your legs— But Robby quickly circled your wrist in his hand, pinning it back up over your head.

"I know, I know sweetheart," He cooed when you began to whine, "I'm gonna take such good care of you, I promise, just need you to be patient, yeah? You need me to make you come? Think it'll make you feel better?"

You nodded quickly, "Please, really need it."

"I know, baby," He said softly and began sucking harshly down your belly, working his way down to where you craved him the most, "You're being so good for me. You already wet for me?" He reached two fingers between your legs, collected your slickness on his fingers as you sighed at the contact, "That all for me?"

You nodded, "Only for you."

He smiled up at you and kissed the inside of your thigh, "Hm, let's see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg for me."

The first swipe of his tongue had your back arching up and off the mattress. From the very first time you slept with him, it had been obvious your sexual compatibility had been off the charts. You had never told him this, but he was easily the best sex you'd ever had. It alarmed you how quickly he learned your body and how fast he could pull you to the edge when he wanted to.

Today he was torturously slow, but he also knew that despite your begging, you liked being teased. That you never came harder than you did after he'd repeatedly nearly brought you to the edge, only to pull you back at the last second.

After a while of this, you with tears streaming down your cheeks, he slipped a finger inside of you, pumping slowly, matching the pace of his tongue against your clit.

"Robby— Robby, please, please, let me come."

He hummed against you, but did not remove his mouth from you. The ocean receded from the shore, building steadily in the background, the impending crash growing larger and larger by the second. He sped his movements incrementally until you were grinding against his mouth, chasing your high—And then the wave broke and you were crying out, Robby's name hanging from your tongue as he worked you through it.

Your limbs felt loose and useless at your sides, thighs shaking as Robby finally let up and crawled back up to you. You pulled him down by the neck to kiss him, your juices smearing from his beard to your chin, the taste of you evident on his tongue.

Moments later, you began pulling at his clothes, helping him get undressed. Immediately, when his cock sprung from his boxers, you had a hand wrapped around it, stroking him eagerly as he sucked on your tongue.

When he finally pushed himself inside you, your mind went quiet as it usually did when he fucked you. It reminded you of when you were young and had fallen asleep to the television on, only to wake up to the monotone frequency and rainbow pattern across the screen.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," He had you folded nearly in half, still fucking you at a slow and gentle pace. You stared up at him, admiring the view. Beyond how good he felt inside you, especially when you were extra sensitive after an orgasm, when he was in control you thought he was exceptionally beautiful with a fucked out expression on his face. He was flushed red from the exertion and sweat dripped down his back when you dragged your fingernails across his skin, "Jesus Christ, think your pussy was made to take my cock like this, wasn't it?"

You hummed in response, pulling him down closer to you so you could suck and bite along his neck and shoulders. You felt his cock twitch inside you and gasped, your walls tightening in response and Robby swore.

The fatigue from your orgasm was beginning to wear off and you started bucking your hips up to meet his with every thrust, needing him deeper and harder, "There you go, angel," he cooed, "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

As you nodded, he pressed his thumb against your chin, prompting you to open your mouth. He slipped two fingers inside, stroking them against your tongue until you closed your mouth around them, humming and bobbing your head around them as if they were his cock.

You watched Robby's eyes, the way they so subtly changed at the sight of you sucking on his fingers. It undid him, with your walls fluttering around his cock and your pretty mouth taking his fingers, taking everything he gave you, "Ah, fuck." He swore and then rutted his hips into you faster and harder, his fingers slipping out of your mouth.

The sensation of him thrusting into you over and over had you seeing stars. You never felt so loose, so free as you did with him inside you like this. Nothing else existed outside of where your bodies connected and held one another. Maybe it was this utterly uninhibited feeling that had you gasping as you looked up at him, "I love you."

His eyes widened slightly as he processed what you had said—and then he was coming, the sounds he made as he did sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

He collapsed against you after finishing, his cock still inside you and softening. Turning your head towards him, you claimed his mouth. Despite the fact that it was over, you still felt needy for him, for this closeness, the intimacy of it. It also helped that you didn't wish for him to speak yet. Didn't wish to hear him let you down easy after you'd so recklessly declared your affection. He kissed you back after grunting a bit in surprise and then a moment later he pulled away, a gentle hand still at your throat.

"Hold on, I, before anything else, I just—"

"It's fine," You said quickly, "We can pretend I didn't say anything, I didn't—I got caught up in the moment."

He opened and closed his mouth for a moment, eyes narrowing, "Well, did you mean it?"

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, eyes searching his for what the correct answer was. You had meant it. Had felt it for a while, had thought it to yourself more times than you could count, almost every time you looked at him these days. If you were honest, you loved him so much, you threatened to burst at the seams with it.

"If it helps," He said finally, sensing your hesitancy, "I love you too," He said, his voice impossibly tender and hopeful, "I love you so much I sometimes ache with it."

Your breath stuttered and a hesitant smile began to stretch across your face, "You do?"

He nodded, fingers gently caressing your cheek as he pressed his nose into yours.

"I love you," You said again, a little breathless, "I meant it."

He grinned and kissed you and when you opened your eyes again, his were looking into yours, shining impossibly bright with what you hoped were happy tears.

Later, after you'd eaten way too much Chinese takeout in your underwear on the couch, Robby paused the TV show you'd been watching.

"Hey—" You said, pushing yourself up from where you'd been comfortably resting against his chest, "Why'd you do that?"

He sighed and pulled you both up to sitting, much to your chagrin, "I wanted to talk to you. About your father."

You stiffened slightly. Here it was, the impossible ultimatum he was bound to give you. He couldn't help with your father anymore and so it was your father or Robby. You could not continue to have both.

"I've been doing some research," he started, "And I talked to Noelle about it—"

"You were talking to your ex about my father?"

He winced, "Just, let me finish?"

You huffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Fine."

"Noelle told me that you could combine your father's Medicare as well as your own benefits, have you heard of the Hospital at Home program?"

You frowned and shook your head stubbornly, "No."

"One of our benefits to working at the hospital includes extremely discounted part time home health care, for either ourselves or family."

You opened and closed your mouth, "Oh."

He nodded, "Yeah, so what I was thinking is that combining those two would likely get you at least to cover the day time hours… And um, I looked into overnight care—"

"I can already tell you I can't afford that."

"I know," he said, placing a hand on your ankle, "I know, which is why I wanted to offer to pay for it."

You stared at him for a long time, and then blinked, "Robby, that's—that's too much—"

"It's not," he said shaking his head, "Really, I promise it's not. I'm pretty frugal with my money, I haven't had anyone to spend it on in a really, really long time. I can't think of a better use for it. Let me close the gap for you. Please."

You felt a burning in your eyes and looked down at your hands, not wanting him to see you cry. The immediate relief at just the prospect of not having to be your father's around the clock care was overwhelming. It felt like a dam was splintering and cracking behind your eyes.

"You're sure?" You said finally, hearing the tears in your own voice.

He squeezed your ankle lightly, "Yeah, positive. We can start interviewing nurses next week."

You nodded, your vision blurring from the tears, "Thank you." You said and as the dam fully broke, he pulled you into his lap.

"I've got you, baby."

***

EPILOGUE— TWO YEARS LATER

Your father dying was something you had thought about for quite some time, but the reality of it had been quite different than you'd imagined.

You'd expected to feel almost nothing by the time he died. After all, he'd become a shell of the man you knew. He hadn't been himself for quite a long time. And by the time he passed, he remembered Robby's name better than yours.

But when he had died, for some reason you laid in bed beside him for a long time, wailing like a child. You couldn't understand it and that made you cry more.

Robby had held you for a while that night, had wondered aloud if maybe you were mourning that you had never been able to fix your relationship with him. If maybe deep down you had wished to fully understand the way he treated you, if you had been hoping for an apology.

Your father had been the only person to ever know what you were like as a rambunctious kid, skinned knees and digging in the dirt for worms. The girl who begged to take a bird inside with a broken wing to try and nurse it back to health, only to have it die in the night. You had been inconsolable for days afterwards no matter how he tried to bribe you with sweets and toys. Only your father knew the girl who watched the Wizard of Oz on repeat for an entire summer, walking around the house in braids, a blue gingham dress, and ruby red slippers every single day.

He was the only person alive who knew you when you were still soft and curious and unconditionally hopeful. And sure, he had crushed the spirit out of her pretty quickly, but you always knew he remembered her the way you did. But now he was dead and he'd taken most of her with him.

The burial had been a short affair. Your father had cut most ties he had with anyone once he retired twenty years ago and so most of the people who showed up were his home health nurses, Robby, Cecelia, Dana, and other coworkers from the Pitt. Your father's dogs—now your dogs—Franklin and Garner had laid at his headstone and whined softly throughout.

And then, when it was all said and done, you'd let yourself rot on the couch with the dogs for what felt like months. The house was quiet now. If you thought it'd been filled with ghosts before, it practically overflowed with them now.

Finally, Robby came home one day, took one look at you and the dogs laying pathetically on the couch, remote hanging from your hand and said, "That's it. We're leaving. Pack up your shit."

"Where are we going?" You asked, sounding bored.

"My cabin in the mountains."

And so Robby had packed you and the dogs into his car and drove you out of the city. You spent a few days there and he finally got you to admit that you felt like he'd been the last person alive to really know what you were like before he beat the whimsy out of you.

But Robby had shaken his head, "That's not true, I know her too." When you frowned he went on, "I see her whenever you roll in the grass with the dogs, when you sing a silly song to the kids in the ER to distract them from an IV or a blood draw, when we go out dancing with McKay and I have to physically remove you from the dance floor." He placed a finger against your chest, "She's still in there. She's not dead until you are."

It had moved you so thoroughly that after a few moments you blurted out, "Will you marry me?"

He had grinned so wide his crow's feet nearly swallowed his eyes whole and you'd made love until the sun came up.

As the months and years passed and Robby stayed firmly by your side, you learned to love with abandon and so did he. You never again woke up in the morning wondering if he still loved you or if he planned to leave, because the second he opened his eyes and saw you, there was always a smile on his face. And in turn, you stopped looking for an escape hatch.

Love could not heal on its own, that much you knew to be true. But it was also true that love had held your hand and led you to the door for healing, had stood there with you until you felt ready to walk through it. Love didn't make you worthy, but it had insisted stubbornly day in and day out that you were worthy if you would just open your eyes and see it for yourself.

Love hadn't made you want to live again, but it had held you, patient and steadfast when you didn't and reminded you that the feeling would pass.

It was snatched away from you just like that. You were angry and more than a little bitter and you wanted to get fucked up on a beach about it.

There would be no men on this vacation, you decided. It would be all too easy to fall in bed with a gorgeous specimen and drown yourself in someone else. You'd spiral down the same path you'd only just narrowly escaped. Because that's how you were framing it now, that you were lucky all this had happened, that you learned who he really was before the wedding.

It didn't make it all hurt any less though, no matter how you tried to pretend it did.

So men were off limits. Yep, they sure were. You almost made it through to the end of the trip having followed through. Until you met him.

As luck would have it, the resort you'd chosen in Jamaica had been overrun with middle aged men, exactly your type. At first, you had thought it'd be an inhuman feat to get home without falling victim to some older man's flirting. But quickly, you noticed all of these men were here with their wives and had exhaled a sigh of relief. Immediately, all desire for them evaporated and it was much easier to ignore them.

So when a tall, handsome, bearded man took the pool chair next to you your last morning you didn't bother to even look up from your book.

"Gorgeous weather we're having, wouldn't you say?" His voice was warm with amusement, a pleasant grate to it against your ears.

You sighed and turned a page, "No," You said simply.

He gave a short, incredulous laugh, "Excuse me?"

"The weather's lovely, but I'm not interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Sleeping with you."

He chortled quietly and out of your peripheral, you saw him shake his head, "Well I don't recall asking you that."

You sighed, "Look, I'm young, but I wasn't born yesterday. And, my God, how long have you been married that the best you could do was ask about the weather?"

Finally, you looked at him, and were immediately grateful your sunglasses could not betray the way your pupils likely dilated at the sight of him. So thoroughly exactly your type: Tall, slightly graying beard, brown hair and brown eyes, a hairy chest that led to a soft tummy, the beginnings of a beer belly, protruding just slightly over the waistband of his bathing suit. Oh, you were going to be sick.

Amused smirk on his face, he scratched the back of his head, "Well, I guess that explains why I've never been married, if my flirting is as horrendous as you say."

You blinked and your eyes darted immediately to his left hand. No ring. "You're not married?" You asked, note of fear in your voice. If he wasn't married this was going to make things much more difficult for you.

He shook his head, "No."

You weren't entirely convinced and you had been burned before by men claiming not to be married, but it turned out they had simply taken their ring off for the evening.

Clenching your jaw, you held out your hand, "May I see your hand?"

He gave you a funny look, but obliged you, likely amused by your bizarre behavior. His hand dwarfed yours, warm and calloused in your own. You resisted the urge to intertwine your fingers and closely examined his ring finger. No indentation, no hint of a tan line. If he had ever worn a wedding band, he had taken it off long ago.

Satisfied, you returned his hand and leaned back in your chair, turning your attention back to your book, "I'm still not sleeping with you."

"Again, I never asked you to."

"Not yet, but you will. The answer will still be no."

You had said it more for your own benefit than his, but you suspected he had taken it as a challenge. So you learned each other's names and he had spent the whole day chatting with you, asking about your book, asking you why you were here, if your ire for men encompassed the whole gender or was it reserved exclusively for married men.

"All of them, at the moment. You can thank my cheating ex-fiance for that."

"He must've been out of his mind to cheat on you." He said softly, and it didn't sound like a line to use, it sounded genuine.

But you scoffed, "You don't know me, maybe I'm a raging psychotic bitch who drove him to cheat."

He shook his head, "Nah, I don't buy it. I suspect this prickly exterior is just to act as a deterrent."

You felt your cheeks heat, "And you're not deterred?"

"Not in the slightest."

Chatting at the pool turned into drinks by the pool turned into drinks in the pool turned into lunch by the pool until the sun began to wane.

"Come to dinner with me." He said as everyone was beginning to abandon the pool.

"I'm not sleeping with you," you repeated your mantra, but it was beginning to sound false even to your own ears.

"I'm not asking you to," He repeated, and you knew he was lying as well.

Dinner turned into drinks turned into a walk on the beach under the stars. As the waves crashed against the shore, he kissed you in the moonlight and when you moaned into his mouth you knew he had won.

Which was how you'd ended up naked back in his room, straddled on top of him, worshiping his chest and belly with lips and teeth and tongue. You weren't entirely sure what you had done to deserve the sort of pleasure that was overtaking you now, sparking through every inch of your skin that met his.

Until he gently gripped your chin in between his fingers and brought your face up to his own, so you could see just how desperate and breathless you'd made him. Dewy brown eyes looked up at you, heavy with lust and awe as you rocked your hips back and forth, your pussy dragging over his hard cock and clit rubbing against the soft pudge of his belly with every stroke.

You ground your slick folds against anything, anything to find purchase. Your clit rode the incline from groin to belly button, moaning into his mouth as you did.

"You're gonna come just like this, aren't you baby?" He murmured, "Rubbing your clit on anything will do the job, hm? You're that desperate for me?"

Normally his cockiness would've pissed you off, but you were so desperate for him it only surged you forward, pathetic whimper falling from your lips where he gripped your cheeks.

"Go on, sweetheart, come for me."

And suddenly you were unraveling and crying out his name as you did. He had positioned your hips over his cock afterwards, driving you up and down his erection himself while you were dumb on the aftershocks of your orgasm, clit occasionally rubbing against his belly again as he did, sending sparks across your body.

When it was over, you had begun to gather your things to head back to your room, "Where're you going?" He asked, voice rough with sleep.

"Back to my room."

"Oh," he said, a note of surprise, and was that… disappointment? In his voice? "You could, um, you could sleep here if you wanted."

You resisted a smirk as you looked up at him, "Robby, are you asking me to sleep with you?"

A grin stretched across his face, "Yeah, I think I am. If you'd reconsider your previous decision."

You pretended to think it over, but you had really already decided. You'd lost your own battle, why deny yourself the softness afterwards as well? Those eyes, those hands, that face, that voice, had won you over from the moment you saw him.

And so, you were back in bed with him, curled up against his chest with his lips at your temple. You reminded yourself that all this was just temporary, that tomorrow you'd both be leaving, likely to another side of the country, and you'd never see him again.

You continued to remind yourself this as you both woke up the next morning and you gathered your things, intending to head back to your room to pack.

"Hey, um, I know we're on vacation and we're both thinking that's all this is, but…" He took out a card from his wallet and began scribbling what you assumed was his number on the back, "If you're ever in town, give me a call."

You smirked as you took the card, already knowing you'd get rid of it when you got home. You desperately needed to be alone for a while and you had already broken too many rules for him in the space of 24 hours. You shuddered to think what other rules he could convince you to break if you allotted him any more time.

But as you went to place the card in your wallet, your eyes caught on the front:

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center

Michael Robinavitch, MD

Emergency Medicine, Department Head

And your heart stuttered to a stop in your chest. Oh, this couldn't be happening, "Fuck."

"What? What is it?"

Your mind raced backwards to the interview you'd had a month ago with Dana Evans. The grumpy attending she'd told you might need a little time to adjust to you. That he struggled with change but he had a good heart and if you did a good job (which you would, you were a fucking stellar charge nurse) he'd come around.

"You're Dr. Robinavitch?" You asked, a little breathless.

He looked at you, confusion evident in his face, "…Yes?"

You sighed heavily, resigned to whatever fresh hell this was turning out to be, all because you couldn't have just kept to your one fucking rule. No men.

You reintroduced yourself and stuck out your hand, "I'm your new charge nurse."

***

Robby's head had been spinning ever since you had told him you would be taking over for Dana for a while. It wasn't that big of a deal he tried to tell himself. It was possible to maintain a mature, professional relationship even if you had slept with a colleague.

He just wished he had had the chance to know you professionally first.

"You can't tell anyone," You had said frantically that morning, "You have to pretend you don't know me when I come in."

He had rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head, "Seems a bit high school, don't you think?"

"No," you snapped, "I know how much everyone there must love Dana because I met her! She's phenomenal! Do you know how hard it's gonna be for me to earn everyone's respect? And if on day one everyone knows I slept with the attending?"

He looked down at his shoes, shrugging his shoulders, "Honestly I think a lot of them would respect you for it. Might even consider it community service given how miserable I've been lately." When he looked back up, you were glaring at him and he managed a chuckle, "Fine, okay. We'll act like it never happened if that's what you want."

"It is."

He nodded, but felt a kernel of disappointment in his chest. He wasn't sure why, exactly. He knew when he slept with you it would likely be a one night stand, but the idea of acting like he didn't know you when he had spent the last twenty four hours wooing you felt wrong.

To complicate matters further he didn't want to like Dana's replacement. And he found already there was resentment brewing within him, both for replacing Dana and for dictating your nonexistent relationship.

"Great," He said, turning his back on you, "Then I'll see you in the Pitt."

And so now he sat at his work station, glasses perched on his nose as he pretended to chart while Dana reiterated that you'd be coming in today to shadow. He'd nodded and nervously scratched the back of his head, avoiding meeting her eyes.

"Robinavitch."

"Yeah?" his jaw shifted from side to side. Even just the sound of your name elicited memories of you on top of him, of his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your hip in the pool, of kissing you with only the stars to witness.

He had no idea how he was going to make it through today or any successive shift with you as charge.

"What's the matter with you?" Dana popped a piece of gum in her mouth, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He shook his head and looked back at the computer screen in front of him, words on the chart scrambling and bouncing off his skull, not quite penetrating.

"Just tired." He said, tossing back some of his coffee as if to prove the point.

He could feel Dana's eyes scrutinizing him still across the hub, "You know, you've been off since you got back from vacation. Thought it would've done you some good to be away from this place, but it seems to have made you worse somehow."

Your words echoed in his head. How you'd asked him to pretend to not know you. He was fairly certain he could probably be convincing of that in front of most people—But not Dana. He was almost positive the second you walked through the door she'd clock it.

What was the harm? It wasn't Dana you were worried about anyhow, it was everyone else. And if he didn't tell someone it would drive him insane.

He sighed, "I… met someone. While I was away."

Dana frowned, "Okay…" She said slowly, "Vacation fling, what's the big deal?"

"Yeah, I thought as much… Until I gave her my full name," He shook his head slowly, "You should've seen the look on her face."

Dana stared at him, blinking blankly, "You're gonna have to spell it out for me, Cap, I'm not following."

He rubbed his face with his hands, felt the flush crawling up his neck, "Well it turned out," He said finally, "My vacation fling is our new charge nurse."

After a moment of what Robby assumed was processing, Dana pulled her glasses off, "You slept with my new hire? Are you joking? Tell me you're joking."

Robby was beet red, "Could you keep it down, please? She asked me not to tell anyone."

Finally, Dana scoffed, "Son of a b—"

***

You were leaned up against the wall outside the ambulance bay, lit cigarette between your lips. Your new badge was clipped to your scrub top but you'd been mostly avoiding looking at it. Every time you saw "Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center" you were reminded of Robby's business card, of the fact that he was going to be in this building. That as charge you'd be unable to avoid him.

You looked down at your watch and saw you were three minutes late. Probably not the best first impression to have, but you'd do almost anything to prolong what was certain to be a painfully awkward reunion.

In the time between when your plane deboarded in Pittsburgh and now you had been actively fighting every urge to think about him. To remember the way he felt inside you, the sound of his voice, low and husky in your ear, his tongue between your legs—

"Fuck," you muttered, feeling the warmth spread from your belly outwards as you ground out your cigarette.

Stretching your neck from side to side, you breathed in the frigid February air slowly through your nose, and out through your mouth, opening your eyes in time to see your breath cloud in front of you. You were alive and you had been through worse. You would survive this, too. Better yet, you'd thrive.

And with that, you walked into the lion's den.

Dana spotted you first, a smile on her face as you approached. And you couldn't help it, your eyes slid to the broad shouldered doctor next to her, his face cold and distant. It was what you'd asked for, you knew. But still, you couldn't help remembering the gentle and funny man he'd been when you met. The way he'd looked at you that day felt like being warmed by the sun.

You swallowed and tore your eyes away from his to meet Dana's, forcing a smile.

"Hey, kiddo," she greeted you, "You make it in okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah, it's good to see you again, Dana."

"This is Dr. Robinavitch next to me," she gestured to Robby and you immediately reached a hand out to shake his— "Though I understand introductions are unnecessary."

Your face fell and yours and Robby's hands hung midway to one another before you dropped yours and looked up at him with abject horror.

He at least had the decency to look guilty as he sighed and turned to the woman next to him, "Really, Dana?"

"What?" She looked between the both of you, a knowing smile on her face, "We're all adults here."

But your mouth hung open, daggers in your eyes aimed exclusively at the man in front of you, "I asked you for one thing."

Before Robby could rush in to defend himself, Dana swung an arm around you and turned you away from him, "Kid, believe me. This is a blip. He only told me because I could tell something was up and I would have pinpointed it as soon as you walked in. He hasn't told anyone else and he won't, alright?"

The betrayal and anger still simmered in your peripheral at Dana's words. You felt immediately like a trapped animal, Robby having coaxed you into a cage and tossing away the key. You had trust issues. Your last relationship had ended terribly, marred by betrayal and a complete upheaval of the person you thought you had known best. It wasn't easy to trust anyone after that. You had let Robby slip past your defenses too easily, lulled by the idea of never having to see him again.

Well, now, he'd have a tough time surpassing your "prickly exterior" as he had so affectionately called it. Now, it would become an absolute fortress, hostile to any potential invaders, especially him.

"I just don't want that to be everyone's first impression of me," You said softly to Dana, still unable to look at her for the embarrassment.

"It won't be," She squeezed your shoulder, "As long as it's done now, yes?" She forced eye contact with you, "It was one and done, right?"

"Yes," you said immediately, "absolutely."

"Alright, then don't sweat it, kid. No one's gonna find out anything. Now," She gestured behind her and in a moment you felt Robby's presence beside you, though you didn't look at him, "Let's do rounds with the doctors, alright?"

You nodded, tried to calm yourself as you jotted notes on each patient, but it was hard to jolt yourself from your thoughts.

That was, until a hypothermic child was rolled in and then you had purpose again. You hardly noticed Robby next to you as he called out orders, already flagging a Respiratory Therapist to assist with intubation and the warming and humidifying of the ventilation circuit to attempt to warm the lungs.

Before Robby could ask, you gently removed the family from the room, attempted to gather more information about the accident that brought the child in.

"His clothes were wet, did he fall through some ice on a lake or a pond?"

His mother shook her head, eyes red rimmed, "No, I—I don't think so. I think he was just outside for too long." Her face crumpled, "He has autism. I didn't even know he'd gone outside. Is he going to be okay?"

Before you could say anything, you felt Robby behind you, "He's stable right now and we're working to warm him up. His heart seems healthy, if a bit slower than it should be. We're helping him breathe right now and using humidified air to warm up his lungs. I'll come find you when we have an update."

"Can we see him?"

"Of course."

The parents thanked Robby profusely and then headed into the trauma room and you immediately began walking to the Hub where Dana was.

"Hey—" You felt his warm hand at your forearm and flinched as you turned to face him. He dropped his hand, a flicker of something you couldn't quite place was there and gone, "I wanted to talk to you for a second—"

"Is it about work?"

"No," He said slowly, "I—"

"Dr. Robby," You looked around nervously to make sure no one was watching the two of you, "From here on out our relationship is strictly professional. I don't want to discuss personal matters with you and I certainly don't want to discuss them here. Okay? Are we good?"

He stared at you and this time you recognized the irritation in the set of his jaw, "I only wanted to apologize to you for telling Dana. I didn't do it maliciously, I just know her and she's… very observant. It was just easier to have it out in the open—"

"Easier for who?" You snapped, "I imagine it's very easy for you to just brush things like this off in the workplace. You're not the first attending I've slept with, I know how this goes. I bet you sweep a new woman off her feet every week in this hospital. I'm sure I'm just another in a very long, forgotten list. The problem is that long after you've forgotten, everyone else will remember the women you've discarded."

He scoffed, looking bewildered, "I'm—I'm sorry have I done something to offend you? Beyond the obvious? This—" He gestured between you, "—reaction seems disproportionate to what happened today."

You shrugged, "I'm not upset, I just want to be clear that there is and will be nothing more between us than a collegial relationship."

He crossed his arms and looked down at this feet, "Understood, I just wanted to—"

"No need," You smiled, "I'll see you around."

Then you left him standing there, feeling confused and dumb and maybe a little angry, though he wouldn't admit that yet. No, he would not give you the satisfaction of seeing how easily you'd gotten under his skin.

Robby thought himself an empathetic man and it didn't take a genius to understand why you were lashing out at him. He remembered dismissive comments about hating men and a cheating fiancé. You had let him in so easily in Jamaica because you didn't think you'd have to see him again. Now that the two of you would be working together, the stakes were higher. You had to cut him out like a cancer before he metastasized, before he reached your heart.

And fuck, he knew he should respect that. He should have backed off right then.

But the fact that you were so terrified to let him get close meant that what you were really afraid of was your own desire. In other words, he could have another chance to touch you. He'd also thought he'd never see you again after the first time, but finding out that you would be working here had had him revisiting your night together and longing for your skin instead of deterring him.

So once again, Icarus spread his wings, his eyes turned up to the sun.

***

Robby had to jog to catch up to you after shift ended. You had left in a hurry, dismissive of all his attempts at conversation unless it was about a patient.

"Is this gonna be an issue?" Dana had asked him quietly when there was just an hour left of the shift and you had once again skirted past his attempts to address the tension between you, "The girl becomes Houdini whenever you enter a five foot radius."

"I'll sort it out." He said sighing, watching you from across the way. The child that had come in with hypothermia earlier that day was awake and the two of you smiling at each other as you took his vitals. Something you said made him laugh and your grin widened. It nearly knocked him out.

So now he was running to catch up with you, "Hey—" he called out when he was close enough, out of breath, "Hang on a sec—"

You sighed when you saw him next to you, matching your stride, "I thought we understood each other—"

"You haven't let me get a goddamn word in all day so I don't know what would give you that idea."

He watched as your whole body tensed up. You were still avoiding looking at him, "I want to be adults about this—"

Robby stepped in front of you, walked slowly backwards to force you to look at him, "Is that why you're avoiding me like a schoolgirl with a crush?"

It was obvious you weren't enjoying the fact that he was now cornering you and you had no choice, but to listen to him. You rolled your neck and slowed to a stop in front of him, "I'm not avoiding you. Last I checked, you should be able to do your job without my input. There was nothing about babysitting the attending physician in the job description."

You sidestepped him as he laughed softly to himself. You were so goddamn antagonistic it was infuriating.

"If you can't handle working with me, collaboratively," He called after you, "Then I'll have to tell Dana that she needs to find a different charge nurse."

You stopped walking and slowly turned back towards him, "You wouldn't do that." You said, but your voice betrayed you. You were uncertain.

He was bluffing. First of all, Dana would kill him if she had to put off leaving for a while because he had defiled their promising new hire. Second, even though it had only been one shift and you had been avoiding him as if your life depended on it, it was easy to see that you were a good charge nurse and finding a nurse at all in need of employment was rare. Third—and the reason that brought him the most shame—he really wanted to sleep with you again and he suspected if he fired you, you'd be unlikely to indulge him.

But right now, you didn't need to know any of that.

"I certainly don't want to," he shrugged, "but the working relationship between a charge nurse and the attending physician is probably the most important in our department. If we don't work well together it all falls apart. So… do you think you could put our little dalliance behind you?"

Slowly, you walked up to him until you were toe to toe. Until you were close enough to kiss him if you just pushed up on your toes. His breathing faltered at your closeness and a smug look transformed your face when you noticed, "Can you?"

The scent of you sat heady in his nostrils, and despite himself, Robby felt himself leaning into it, mouth hovering just above yours. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the Caribbean, your tongue in his mouth tasting of rum and sea salt.

Swallowing, he took a step back from you, "Sure can."

Your grin widened, "Then we're good."

He cleared his throat, "You'll stop avoiding me?"

You nodded and looked down at your watch, "Sure, I really have to go now, though."

"Let me walk you home."

You snorted, "No, I don't want you to know where I live."

He frowned, "What do you think I'll do with that information?"

"Probably show up in the middle of the night begging to slip into my bed," You smirked and started to walk away from him again, "Goodnight, Doctor Robinavitch."

"I would not—We said—It's Robby." He called after you, exasperated, but you ignored him.

He wasn't used to someone getting under his skin like this. In fact, it was usually him doing the irritating. But you were so good at needling him to the point of being flustered.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself as he watched you disappear into the dark.

It would be annoying how frustrating he found you if it didn't also turn him on.

But that was just fine. If you wanted to play games then he'd set the match.

***

You hesitated for just a moment as you turned the key in the doorknob of your childhood home. As always, when you walked through the threshold you were cocooned by old ghosts.

You leaned against the door as you closed it behind you, pressing your entire weight into it so you could slide the deadbolt into place. Though, you thought, the deadbolt likely wouldn't supply much protection if someone thought to break in, the wood around the hinges beginning to splinter and crack. All that stood between you and the outside world was a good kick from a steel-toed boot.

You let your backpack fall from your shoulder to the hardwoods, kicking off your New Balances as you did. You listened to the familiar sounds of the house: the hum of the refrigerator (the appliance was as old as you were and had only gotten louder as time passed), a Jeopardy! rerun playing in the TV room, and your father's snores echoing down the hallway.

You padded towards the TV room where you found Cecelia on the couch, illuminated by the blue light from the TV as she crocheted diligently. She looked up slightly from her project when you entered the doorway, but continued counting quietly to herself as you sat down next to her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Cecelia had been the first emergency charge nurse you'd shadowed at Presby when you were still in college. And since you had never known your mother, you had imprinted on her immediately like a little duckling. Luckily, she had taken to you as well. She was the reason you'd gotten the job at PTMC since Dana had been her sorority sister once upon a time.

Having retired during COVID, she spent her time now with her kids and grandkids. And you. And occasionally your father, when you needed the help.

"How was your first day?" She asked, once she'd written down where she'd left off on the sweater she was crocheting in a notebook.

"Long," You said solemnly.

She pointed to a mug sitting on the coffee table in front of you, "Made you tea."

You sighed and picked it up, the warmth of the mug leeching into your hands and spreading. The steam caressed your face and you inhaled greedily—chamomile.

"Thank you," you said softly and took a sip, "How was he today?"

It had been two years since your father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. You were an only child, your mother had left both of you when you were an infant, and your father had no other family as far as you knew. Except for a single cousin who, up until a couple of months ago, had been taking care of him as the disease progressed. Until in an episode of confusion, your father had punched him, convinced he was an intruder in his home.

And so, the responsibilities had passed to you.

"Okay, tired, which is why I let him go to bed before you got home. I saw some bruises on him when I took him to the bathroom earlier. Did he sleep through the night last night?"

You closed your eyes and rubbed at your forehead, "Uh, no. Sorry I forgot to mention that. He, um, he fell. Trying to get out of bed last night."

Cecelia hummed, "So you didn't get much sleep then either, I assume."

You shook your head, "Guilty."

She sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Honey, I'm worried about you. He's only gonna get worse. I really think you should look into around the clock care—"

"I can't afford it," You shook your head, "And he blew all his money gambling before I knew how sick he was. Before anyone knew how sick he was."

"There are programs," she said softly, "For people who can't afford it. Ask Dana, someone in that hospital should be able to help you."

You pondered that in silence for a moment, but the truth was you didn't want anyone else taking care of him. It was bad enough subjecting Cecelia to it and that was only because she had absolutely insisted so that you could work and you had insisted on paying her. You couldn't pay her much, in fact it was sort of criminal how little you were paying her, but you really didn't have the money to give and she wouldn't have accepted more anyway.

The money didn't change the fact that you didn't know how you'd forgive yourself if in his confusion your father hurt Cecelia.

"I can talk to Dana—"

"No," You said quickly, "Thank you, but I—I can handle it."

Cecelia eyed you warily and then hummed, "He kept asking for an 'Evie' today. Do you know who that is? Kept asking when she'd be home from work."

Your stomach knotted and you turned away from her, "Yeah, that's my mom's name. Evelyn. He called her Evie."

Cecelia squeezed your shoulders, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know this is hard on you."

It was hard. Uplifting your whole life to take care of a man who had never paid you much attention unless it was to yell at you. Losing the man you thought you were going to marry in the midst of it all. Moving back into this house all alone was turning you into the isolated, reactionary child you used to be. You could feel her trying to work her way out of you, sticky fingers and sharp tongue, especially whenever you were talking to Robby. Something about him had her stomping her feet and sticking out her tongue.

"It's okay," You said and then stood, "Let me walk you out."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning?" She asked as she pulled on her shoes.

You nodded, "Yes, thank you for doing this."

"After twenty something years in an ED this is a cake walk." She said and pulled you into a hug, "I'm happy to do it for you. I'd do more if I could."

The backs of your eyes burned and you furiously blinked it away as you pulled back, "You've done more than enough."

You closed the door behind her, leaning against the door again so you could lock the deadbolt. With Cecilia gone, you got ready for bed and then curled up on the couch in the TV room. You didn't like to sleep in your childhood bed, had tried a few times now since moving back and had gotten repeated nightmares. Besides, it was easier to hear your father from the couch.

As if on cue, Franklin, one of your father's German Shepherds padded out of your father's room to sleep at your feet. You reached a hand out to stroke his head once he'd settled. Your father had two German Shepherds, Franklin, named after Franklin D. Roosevelt and Garner, named after FDR's first vice president, John Nance Garner.

Garner couldn't be bothered with anyone who wasn't your father, but Franklin had always liked you best. Which was just as well, because it made you feel better knowing Garner had an eye on your dad while he was sleeping.

"Goodnight, Mr. President." You said softly, and closed your eyes, the sounds of Jeopardy! lulling you to sleep.

***

Robby's eyes were closed, but the images from the TV still bled through to the backs of his eyelids. A woman was asleep next to him. He couldn't quite remember her name. Jennifer or Jessica or Jillian… He had gone for a beer after walking away from you not intending to bring anyone home. But she'd been persistent and something about her had reminded him of you. The sarcastic tilt of her mouth much like yours.

Now that she was asleep, he thought he had wanted it to be you so badly any similarities he might've seen were a figment of his imagination.

Along with the blue light of the TV, your face occasionally flashed behind his eyelids. Sleep seemed faraway and impossible with your ghost haunting every corner and crevice of his mind.

The game of solving the mystery of you had been a welcome distraction while he was on vacation, a vacation that had been essentially forced upon him by the higher ups. He had spent most of it booking excursion after excursion or drinking himself into oblivion. Until he met you that last day.

He thought he had you figured out, but he was starting to realize he had barely scratched the surface of you that day. Why wouldn't you let him walk you home? He suspected there was more to it than your teasing about him trying to slip inside with you.

It was easier to distract himself with thoughts of you, with the novel stimulation of having a new puzzle to solve, than it was to deal with his own shit.

He turned his head to the side and blinked his eyes open to see the woman sleeping next to him and heard your voice echo in his mind: I'm sure I'm just another in a very long, forgotten list. The problem is that long after you've forgotten, everyone else will remember the women you've discarded.

He hadn't meant for it to ever be that way, but as he looked at this woman next to him and tried and failed to recall her name, he knew you were right. In being reckless with himself, there had been collateral damage.

The problem was, he wasn't quite sure how to stop.

***

It had been three or four weeks now since you started in the Pitt, you had lost count. The days tended to blend together. It didn't help that you couldn't recall the last time you had gotten a proper night's sleep. Your father had been waking up more and more throughout the night until you were so anxious anticipating it that you were averaging maybe three hours of sleep a night if you were lucky.

You were spending all, or most of your energy being kind and supportive for your staff and so had very little patience for Robby. And he had been pissing you off already this morning. Moving patients around without telling you. Assigning incoming triage to rooms without telling you. He was fucking with your board and that already pissed you off, but then you saw Princess at the bedside of a patient you had specifically assigned to Jesse and you back pedaled.

"Princess?" She smiled as she saw you and walked over, "I assigned Jesse this patient because it's a more physically demanding case and you're still recovering—"

"I know," She said quickly, "and thank you, I just, Robby asked Jesse to switch with me. The patient only speaks French, it was faster than calling an interpreter."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "That's not—I mean, thank you for telling me, but it's unacceptable. He can't just do that without telling me."

Princess shrugged, "I don't know, that's how him and Dana used to work."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Dana," You sighed, "Sorry, my drama with Robby isn't your problem. Do you need anything? A break?"

She shook her head, "I'll holler if I need you."

Fuming, you stormed off toward the Hub where you found Robby looking up at the board, "How are we doing? Can we clear some of these beds out?"

Despite your irritation, you stretched your neck, "North 11 and South 20 are going up to Med-Surg, I was able to get an ICU bed for North 4, and Perlah is getting North 1 discharged."

"Great, keep me updated."

He started to walk away, but you trailed after him, "Do you have any issue with the way I'm doing things?"

He frowned and shook his head, "No."

"Do you think you can do my job better than I can?"

He stopped and turned fully to face you, "What is this about?"

"You fuck with my board, you don't even let me know that you fuck with my board, I have to hear about it from my nurses—"

"Your board?"

"Sorry, is bed management in your job description?"

He scoffed and ran a hand over the back of his head, "Dana didn't have a problem with me occasionally moving things around on the board—"

"Dana's not charge anymore," You snapped, "I am. And I also don't appreciate you changing my assignments around. There's a reason I gave North 8 to Jesse and not Princess. She's injured and I'm trying to give her a lighter case load—"

"Princess didn't seem bothered when I asked her to switch with Jesse—"

"Of course she didn't!" You said, exasperated, "Do you think she's going to say no to an attending?"

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "I don't know where you worked last, but I do like to foster a relationship of mutual respect with my nurses. I promise you they're all very comfortable saying no to me."

Your lip curled, "Well maybe you could show me some of that respect by letting me do my job."

He stared at you for a moment, challenge in his eyes, and you realized that he was enjoying this. He wanted to spar with you, wanted to see how far he could push you before you backed down.

Well you wouldn't fucking roll over for anyone, and certainly not for him.

"I like to have some semblance of control over all aspects of my ED—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, I think you mean my ED. Your paycheck may say you run this place, but let's not forget how quickly it would fall apart without me. It is, in fact, my circus and my monkeys." You felt your voice raise and the telltale feeling of eyes turning on you. But you couldn't find it in you to stop, "And one bearded, six foot monkey is really beginning to test my patience so if you don't back off, you're going to find out just how fast this place will burn to the ground if I walk out."

It wasn't the first time you had reamed out an attending, but it was the first time that one had smirked at you like that afterwards. It was certainly the first time one had looked at you with hunger in his eyes after you'd just put him in his place.

Eyes darting to your mouth and then back up to your eyes, he leaned in to your ear, "You speak to me like that again in front of the department, we're gonna have a problem."

And then he was gone, leaving you still simmering and with an audience. The charge phone started to ring. God, you were so fucking tired.

Later, you were taking a smoke break outside when Mateo found you, "Sorry," you said immediately and put out your cigarette, "I'll be back inside in a minute."

"Oh, no, I actually came out to invite you to drinks after shift at Paddy's. A few of us are going for Kim's birthday."

Oh. Well that certainly was a surprise. It wasn't that you thought anyone explicitly didn't like you (except maybe Robby), but you didn't think they liked you enough to invite you out. At least, not yet.

But Cecelia was with your father. You couldn't make her stay later so that you could go get a drink. She was already doing so much for you.

"Thank you for the invite, really, but I… I don't think I can make it tonight."

"Okay," Mateo nodded and smiled, "Well, open invitation if you change your mind."

When he was gone, you stood outside for a couple of extra minutes, thinking about everything you'd left behind to be here.

You had told Robby while you were on vacation that your ex-fiancé had cheated on you. But that wasn't true. He hadn't cheated on you. He had just decided that when you moved back to Pittsburgh to take care of your father he wasn't going to come with you. Made some dismissive comments about it "being super sad" and "depressing" and "a real bummer."

You had always been attracted to older men and your fiancé had been no exception. He was a good fifteen years older than you. The problem with men that age was that if they were still single, there was usually a reason. Your fiancé's being that he refused to grow the fuck up. You had told him if he wasn't prepared to be by your side when shit got hard, including your father's impending death, then you couldn't share a life with him. And he had calmly shrugged his shoulders and asked for the ring back.

Six years prior you had moved across the country for him. You built a life in the Pacific Northwest with him. You had friends there. All of that disappeared when you moved back to Pittsburgh. And despite the fact that you'd grown up here, you didn't have any friends, only acquaintances. You had always been an exceptionally difficult person to love. You thought you got that from your father.

Though you acted like you didn't care, there was a small part of you that wanted things to be different now that you were older. You wanted to build a community rather than pretend to be so disdainful of human connection so when it didn't find you you could pretend you hadn't wanted it in the first place.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you drafted a text to Cecelia: Would you be able to stay a bit later tonight? Some of the nurses are going out for drinks. I'd only stay for one round.

You were about to head back inside when her reply came through: Of course, sweetheart. That just means more alone time with my crochet project. Take your time.

Stifling a smile, you headed back into the Pitt.

***

You were two beers deep, sandwiched between Princess and Kim in a booth when you saw Robby walk into Paddy's. It pissed you off the way just looking at him felt like a knife twisting in your chest. Despite your attempts to distance yourself, the sound of his voice anywhere near you was like the call of a siren, coaxing you into deep waters. You wouldn't realize how far out you'd swam until it was much too late.

"What's up with you and Dr. Robby?" Princess asked and you quickly tore your gaze away from him.

You frowned, tried to feign confusion, "What d'you mean?"

Princess gave you a knowing look, "Girl, come on, you're constantly giving each other 'fuck me' eyes."

Your mouth dropped open and you gave a short laugh as you felt a hot flush crawl up your neck, "That is not true, we're always fighting."

Princess raised her eyebrows, "Hate fucking is still fucking," she sighed wistfully, "God, I miss hate fucking."

You suspected it was the beer talking, but you felt like you wanted to tell someone, someone closer to your age what had happened with Robby. And you liked Princess a lot.

Biting your cheek you leaned into her so no one else could hear you, "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?"

Princess's eyes lit up as she looked at you, "About Dr. Robby?" You nodded in affirmation. "I can't keep anything from Perlah, but it won't leave either of us, that I promise."

Well, you liked Perlah too. You hoped Princess meant it when she said it wouldn't leave them. "Good enough," you said, and then explained to Princess the actual circumstances of you meeting Robby.

When you were done, she pulled away from you with wide eyes, "Holy shit." Then she broke into a smile, "I knew I wasn't imagining the sexual chemistry between you two."

You choked a laugh, "No, there's not—It's not happening again."

"Oh, why not?" She whined playfully, "You obviously both want to, that's why you're fighting all the time."

"We're fighting all the time because he's a self absorbed dick," You took a sip from your beer, "Can you look at me and tell me that he doesn't have a new woman in this hospital wrapped around his finger every few weeks?"

Princess opened and closed her mouth, looking down at her drink. Well, that was all you needed to know, "I won't be another one of his conquests."

"Well what if he was your conquest instead?"

You snorted and rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else a deep and rough voice was saying your name behind you. Your stomach dropped when you turned to see Robby standing at the end of the table, looking directly at you, "Could we talk outside for a minute?"

Normally, you could stuff your feelings down very deep while you were working. The ED was so chaotic, it was easy to redirect your thoughts when they wandered to his big brown eyes or the way he looked when he pulled on the extra large gloves, or the sound of his laugh as it reverberated across the department.

But you were drunk now and he was looking at you with rapt attention, your name having just fallen from his lips like a sonnet. After a moment you nodded and Kim scooted out of the booth to let you out.

You followed him outside, trying and failing to keep your eyes off him, his broad shoulders, his confident gait, the curve of his neck. You had been in a completely different timezone the last time you'd been drunk around Robby and you were conscious of how quickly your defenses dropped when you were even a little bit inebriated. Feelings that had been previously repressed rocketing to the surface. You had pushed it down so thoroughly it even shocked you how badly you wanted him still.

He leaned against the wall on the side of the bar, away from windows and any prying eyes before turning his attention back to you.

"I wanted to clear the air about earlier, we need to be able to communicate with each other in there without it devolving the way it did. Everyone in there looks to us for direction—"

You squeezed your eyes shut and were already shaking your head, the familiar anger poking and prodding again just under your skin, "It wouldn't have gotten to that point if you had been communicating with me—"

He laughed humorlessly, "You just can't let me get a word in, can you? Does the sound of my voice bother you that much?"

"Yes," you lied, even as your stomach stirred and warmed at his attention, "it infuriates me, actually."

He was still smiling, but you knew there was only irritation behind it. He ran a hand along his jawline and looked down at his feet, "S'that so?"

"Yes," you said again, letting your anger, knowingly misplaced, overtake your voice, "That ED runs at a deficit because you're such an insufferable, overbearing control freak and—"

Suddenly his hands were cupping your cheeks and his mouth crashed into yours, hot and abrasive. You stiffened for the briefest of moments in surprise before you kissed him back, pushing him back up against the wall.

It was exhausting pretending like you didn't want him as badly as you did from the moment you met him. You couldn't deny that there was likely a little bit of truth in what Princess had said earlier, that the tension, the wanting of what you knew you couldn't have, was as much a factor in your warring as was his massive ego.

Your frustration and his fought with teeth and tongue. If he took your bottom lip between his teeth, you took his and bit down harder. If your tongue was licking into his mouth a little too dominantly, he would groan and suck on it hard enough to immobilize you.

But then you reached between his legs and palmed him over his pants and you felt the fight go out of him. His head leaned back against the wall, Adam's apple bobbing along his throat, "Fuck me." He cursed quietly and you couldn't help your smirk.

Moving closer to him, you slipped your hand beneath his waistband, gripping his length as he shuddered under your touch. Your free hand cupped his cheek and your thumb ran aimlessly over his parted lips as you watched the effect your touch had on him.

His eyes never left yours, pupils going wide like sinkholes. As you pumped him, he took your thumb in his mouth and you gasped at the feel of his tongue around the digit.

"You want something to suck on while I make you feel good, baby?" You asked, breathless.

He blinked slowly at you, your thumb still in his mouth before he nodded. Eyes never leaving his, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and pushed your hand between your legs, gathering your arousal on two of your fingers. You lifted your fingers back up towards his face, "Open up," You said softly, your other hand continuing to pump him, precum smearing against your skin.

His eyes scanned your face slowly, lips tilting up in a barely there smile before he opened his mouth. He sucked on your fingers greedily, moaning at the taste of you, "Good boy." You whispered and felt his cock twitch in your hand in response.

The fucked out expression on his face, the way he practically went limp and docile at your touch, was enough to keep you satisfied, but still you wanted to taste him. After a few more moments, you pulled your fingers from his mouth and began to lower yourself to the ground.

"You—you don't have to—" Robby began protesting, his voice husky and warm, like bourbon.

"Want to," Was all you said before your ran your tongue along his cock, lapping at the tip where precum had accumulated. He hissed and swore when you took him in your mouth fully, hollowing out your cheeks as you felt him repeatedly hit the back of your throat.

You felt almost out of body as you sucked him off, focusing only on the sounds he was making, the way he occasionally praised you, said how good your mouth felt. You didn't want to think, didn't want to consider the repercussions of this. Of the fact that you were doing exactly what you had promised yourself you wouldn't do again.

But he had kissed you first and at least in the end it had been you making him whimper, you who was in control. You didn't want to be at his mercy again.

"Fuck—M'gonna—M'gonna come." He said, breathless.

You looked up at him, mouth still wrapped around him, granting permission with your eyes and his hips bucked as the come shot out of him and down the back of your throat. When it was done, you pulled your mouth off him and stood.

Immediately, his hand on the back of your neck pulled your mouth back to his, "Come home with me," He said into your mouth, sounding desperate, "Please."

It was like a switch finally flipped in your brain and you remembered Cecelia was at home, waiting for you.

"Shit," You mumbled and pushed yourself away from him.

"What? What is it?"

"I have to go." You said, beginning to walk back to the front of the bar so you could grab your bag from inside.

"Wait—Hold on—Let me take you home, then—"

"No," You said, though at that moment you stumbled, likely revealing to him for the first time just how intoxicated you were.

He steadied you with a light hand at your elbow, "Come on, don't be stubborn."

You pulled your arm from his grasp and headed for your bag at the booth, swinging it over your shoulder as you wished Kim a happy birthday and said goodbyes, carefully avoiding Princess's incessant stare.

"I have to go," You repeated, sidestepping him to get to the door, "Please don't follow me."

And then you rushed back outside, the cold night air a balm to your alcohol flushed skin.

***

Robby watched you go, his hands knotted together on the back of his head. He was still recovering from how hard he came in your mouth just minutes ago and then you had run away.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that? With how easily you had taken him over? It was like when you touched him his head went quiet. He'd do whatever you asked to keep your hands on him.

Someone sighed next to him and he turned to see Princess also staring after you, "Well you're gonna go after her, aren't you?"

He did a double take, frowning, "What do you know, Princess?"

She smirked, "Enough to know that you should go after her."

He didn't, though, in the end. He went home and stared at his ceiling and replayed you putting your fingers in his mouth.

The next morning he walked into the Pitt— and slowed when he saw Dana standing at the hub instead of you.

"What… Are you doing here?" He asked slowly. Immediately, his brain was running a thousand miles an hour. After last night you disappeared and now you weren't at work. You quit and disappeared and he wouldn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

And why did that possibility scare the shit out of him?

Dana smirked at him, "Well don't look so happy to see me, Cap."

He sighed, "Of course I'm happy to see you, but you weren't on the schedule today."

"No, I was not." When Dana didn't say anything else, Robby raised his eyebrows expectantly, "She'll be here later, she just needed someone to cover this morning."

"Uh huh," Robby nodded, "Any particular reason?"

Dana sighed, "Why're you messing with that poor girl?"

"Messing with—? I'm not messing with her. Did she say that?"

"Oh, she didn't have to, Robinavitch. I know you. Can see it all over your face."

Was it really that obvious? "I'm not, I promise. And I'm a little offended you think I just sleep with any woman that looks sideways at me."

Dana rolled her eyes, "Look, she's going through some shit right now—"

"Aren't we all?"

"—This isn't a game. She's not one of your toys. Do not pull her down into the pit with you. You understand me?"

Well, now he was really starting to get offended. What sort of reputation had he created for himself that Dana thought he was a danger to you?

"Yeah, okay. Like I said, you have nothing to worry about."

"Good." Dana said and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Robby cleared his throat and leaned over the counter, "So when will she be back?"

Dana glared at him until he raised his hands in surrender and backed away, "Alright, alright, fine. I'm gonna go find Shen for rounds."

"Yeah, you do that."

Robby shook his head as he walked off. He thought about pulling his phone out and calling you himself, but then realized that if Dana was right and you had serious stuff going on at home, that would be selfish of him.

Instead, he stopped in front of the workstation Santos was sitting at, "Hey," he said, "You, uh, catch up on your charting?"

Trinity's eyes flicked up to him and then back down to the screen, "Working on it," she stretched her arms over her head and then directed her full attention to him, "Hey what's going on with you and the new charge?"

Robby laughed nervously, "That is none of your business."

Trinity smiled, "Well don't fuck it up because I like her."

Robby raised his eyebrows at that, "Oh yeah?"

"I love Dana, but it's nice having someone on shift who doesn't baby you. Dana lets you get away with too much."

He scoffed, "Thank you for your unsolicited opinion Dr. Santos. Now if you could go grab the students for rounds, please?"

Robby watched Trinity walk off and tried not to think too hard about what she'd said. First Princess had caught on to the something between you and now Trinity. It wouldn't be long at all before it was making the rounds in the ED, if it hadn't already. You had taken the morning off for personal issues and to then come in and hear the department speculating about a relationship with him— It was going to hurt you. You had become something of a cyclone when you'd found out he told Dana, he didn't want to find out how much more you would lash out this time.

"Princess—" He called out when he saw her walking across the floor, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What's up?" She asked when they were somewhat secluded from the others.

"Look, I—I need to know what you know."

Princess lit up, "About your new charge nurse friend?"

Robby sighed, "Yeah, she—There's nothing going on between us right now, but if she hears that people think that there is—I don't know—She might quit, even. You're not telling people that we're—are you?"

"No," She shook her head, "She asked me not to. I only told Perlah. In Tagalog."

He ran a hand over his face, "And was Dr. Santos perhaps nearby during that conversation?"

Princess frowned and then her mouth fell open, "I… Will take care of that. She won't hear anything, I promise."

Robby nodded, "Thank you."

Princess stood there for a few more moments and then, "Did you… Go after her last night?"

Robby tilted his head in exasperation, "Princess—"

"Yeah, yeah. Going now."

Robby ran his hands over his face and then to the back of his neck, bending his head forward and sighing. His hands again itched to take out his phone and call you, just to make sure you were okay. But Dana said you'd be in later, he reminded himself. He could wait. He could be patient. He most definitely could act like a professional when you got here.

***

You were shaking as you walked towards PTMC. Cecelia had said you should just call out, let Dana take the whole shift and then the two of you sit down and research to find a solution for caring for your father. You and Cecelia on your own just weren't cutting it. When you'd come home late last night and Cecelia left, your father tried to get out of bed and while you'd mostly been able to calm him and get him back into bed each time without incident, you hadn't slept.

Finally, when Cecelia came in the morning so you could go to work, you suspected from his lack of sleep, he'd gotten even more confused. He didn't recognize Cecelia and became aggressive and erratic. He confused you with your mother, thought when you were leaving the house to go to work you were leaving for good. When you finally calmed him and convinced him everything was alright, he started crying.

"I'm sorry," he'd said over and over, "I'm so sorry, pumpkin." Using your childhood nickname had thrown you for a loop. It had been a while since he'd indicated he recognized you and not your mother. More than that, you couldn't remember a time he had ever apologized to you so tenderly, even before he was sick.

With him finally asleep, you had tried to excuse yourself to another room, but Cecelia had seen through you and pulled you to her, holding you when you fell apart.

"You can't go to work like this," she said, wiping your tears away when you had begun to quiet, "I'm gonna give Dana a call—"

"No, I don't want—"

"You need to sleep. You're of no use to anyone like this," she said sharply, "I'll tell her you'll be in at 1 to relieve her, alright?"

Half a shift. Just half a shift. The world wouldn't fall apart if you missed just half a shift.

So you'd agreed. You slept for four hours and when you woke, Cecelia tried to convince you again to stay home. But you watched your father as he stared emptily at the TV from his recliner and you wanted to leave. You couldn't stay in this house with its stifling cage of memories. With this version of your father who was mean, but still more gentle with you than he had ever been when he was healthy.

Now you were just outside PTMC trying to get your hands to still when Robby walked outside—And almost right into you.

"Oh—shit—" He reached out to steady you, "Hello." He said, and his tone softened immediately when he recognized you, "Are you okay?"

You flinched away from his touch, feeling like you might fall apart at his attempt to soothe you, "I'm fine," You said curtly, "Sorry I'm late."

"That's okay," he shook his head, "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah," You said, voice climbing several octaves as you tried to sound chipper, "Why, did Dana say that I wasn't?"

He pushed his hands into his pockets, shoulders shrugging as he shook his head, "No, she just said that you had some things to take care of this morning."

You nodded slowly and swallowed, "Yeah, I—I did."

"Okay…" He said slowly, "Because I was worried maybe I… scared you off last night."

Despite the morning you had, your stomach flipped and you laughed as if to dispel the warm flush you felt climb up your neck, "Scared me off?" You said with more confidence than you felt, "You practically melted for me."

He smiled and hung his head, but you saw the blush that stained his cheeks as he avoided eye contact, "Yeah, it was—" he cleared his throat, "I… enjoyed it. I hope you did too?"

"I did," You said slowly, "But we probably shouldn't do it again."

He nodded, "Right. Yeah, I know." He scratched the back of his head, "Look, um, before we go back in there I just wanted to tell you that I understand where you were coming from about communicating about the board and I will make sure I consult you next time before making any changes."

You tilted your head and smiled, "Well if I had known all I needed to do to get you to agree with me was give you a blowjob I would've gotten on my knees weeks ago."

If it was possible, his cheeks grew even more scarlet, "It's not—That's not why—"

"I'm kidding." You said quickly, "Thank you, I appreciate that, and I'll try to… communicate my grievances more professionally in the future."

He nodded, "Great. Let's get back to it, then?"

You followed him back inside and watched as he ran off when one of the residents called for him, his hands resting on his stethoscope.

Turning your attention back to the Hub, you saw Dana watching you, a smirk on her face, "Hey kid," she said softly, "You get some sleep?"

You nodded, "Thank you for covering for me, I'm really sorry—"

"Don't sweat it. I was starting to get bored anyway."

As you came around the counter, she pushed some brochures over to you: Juniper Village at Forest Hills, Hemsley House of McCandless, The Pines of Mount Lebanon. All memory care facilities.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest, "Dana—"

"You are not a bad person for wanting to live your life. For needing help. His tremors are gonna get worse and his balance will go with it. How're you gonna handle that on your own?"

You swallowed, "I've been slowly working towards buying all the equipment he'll need. I have a transfer belt and a wheelchair. I'm looking into getting a hospital bed—"

"Even with all that it's not sustainable by yourself and you know it." She placed a hand over yours and squeezed, "I say this with all the love in my heart, kid: He's going to die. Sooner rather than later. Just because his life is ending doesn't mean yours is too."

You swallowed and looked back down at the brochures. Ironically, boarding him somewhere would be cheaper than hiring around the clock care. But—

"He made me promise I'd never put him in a home."

Dana tilted her head, lips twisting sympathetically, "That's an impressively unfair thing to ask of your child." She covered your hand with her own and gave it a light squeeze, "Just, think about it, okay? I can come tour the facilities with you, if you want."

You gave her a small smile, "Thanks, Dana."

She began to pack her things away, pulling her jacket over her scrubs, "Now, one more thing before I go. I thought you said it was one and done with Robinavitch."

You nearly choked on your coffee, "Wha—? It was—It is. Done. What did you hear?"

She gave you a lopsided smirk, "Nothing. I saw him walk in this ER looking for you like a lost puppy."

Ridiculous, Bambi eyed doctor. It was really hard to lie to Dana and you were already exhausted, "We may have had a…relapse last night. But it won't happen again."

She rolled her eyes, "Spare me, alright? I've been here before. I just hope you know what you're getting into. He doesn't know how to let anyone in and you'll drown in your attempts to save him."

You gave a short laugh, "Oh, Dana, Dana, Dana… I don't think I can fix him. I think I can make him worse."

She shook her head dismissively, "Don't know why I bother. Just don't do anything stupid, alright?"

You reassured her you wouldn't and watched her head out to the ambulance bay, still chuckling to yourself that she thought you had a savior complex.

You were many things, but you had never been the one to rush in during the final act and mend a broken heart. Your own heart was too mangled for that.

No, you were more like rot, you decided. Slow moving and by the time you were detected it was too late. You swallowed as you looked down at the brochures and thought of your mother. Was your father like this too? Was that why she left?

"Hey," A large hand lightly tapped the counter in front of you, scrambling your thoughts and causing you to try to quickly hide the brochures, "What's open?"

Robby was stopped in front of you, a stretcher being wheeled behind him.

"Uh," you quickly looked down at your iPad to see the board and then around the department, "Trauma one's open."

"Thanks," He said, and as he began to walk away, he winked at you.

It was so ridiculous, you laughed once he'd walked away from you.

"So," You looked to see Princess at your side, grinning smugly, "Has Dr. Robby been conquered?"

You rolled your eyes, but smirked, "Could you assist in trauma one, please?"

Princess walked off, but you stared into trauma one for more than was appropriate afterwards, watching the way Robby moved, his skilled healing hands, the way he rocked on his feet. You strained to hear his voice above the cacophony of the ED.

You may have convinced everyone that the previous night had been a mistake, not to be repeated, but your mind seemed to have other ideas.

***

It had been about two weeks since you and Robby had succumbed to the tension that had been building between you just outside Paddy's. Fortunately for Robby, you had become more and more willing to cross the line as the days passed. However, the one rule you seemed to be sticking to was that nothing could happen outside the confines of the hospital. No matter how many times he invited you to his house for dinner after shift, you refused. And you never ever invited him to your place. Still refused to even let him walk you home.

It would've hurt his feelings more if he hadn't also been noticing the way you were deteriorating. Eyes sinking into sockets, snapping at the techs and students… He had even caught more than one mistake on your beloved board.

No matter how he begged Dana, she wouldn't tell him what you were dealing with at home. You wouldn't even reveal if you were living alone or if there was someone else. He remembered from when you were in Jamaica that you had said you'd just broken an engagement over infidelity. Could it be that you had reconciled and now he was the affair partner?

He was tugging his scrub top back over his head, the two of you having finished your usual post shift fifteen minute quickie in the abandoned floor upstairs, when he decided to try yet again to pierce your defenses.

"What hospital did you say you worked at before here?"

You were pulling your pants up, still shirtless. Robby had begun carefully cataloguing every imperfection, every divot, of your body. He was always worried it would be the last time you allowed him to touch you and then he'd be left with nothing but his own memories.

"I didn't." You said shortly, not looking at him.

He hummed, "Was it here in Pittsburgh?"

"No."

He let a few moments pass, hoping you would fill it, but still nothing. "Is it just me that you have an aversion to giving more than a few breadcrumbs of your life to?"

You sighed as you pulled your scrub top back over your head, "I don't know why you care. Haven't I given you what you wanted?"

Robby scoffed, "I would think that my repeated attempts to get to know you outside of this hospital despite your constant rejection would indicate otherwise."

"Oh," You said frowning, "I thought you were just being nice. You know, in the way older men try to be chivalrous to compensate for their guilt of just using women to fuck. Like, 'Oh, don't worry, you're not just my whore, you're my Madonna too!' But I'm fine just being the whore."

He stared at you open mouthed for a few moments before running a hand over the back of his head, "How do you manage to constantly find new ways to insult me?"

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you, "I called myself a whore and you're insulted?"

"You think I just fuck my way through women without ever recognizing their personhood?"

You blinked at him, "I mean, that's sort of what I've heard, yeah." You shrugged, "But I'm not judging you, I'm doing the same thing to you."

He ran a hand over his face, "Okay, well you're wrong, and I'm concerned both as your friend and your colleague that you're not sleeping."

You smiled as you walked towards him and twined your arms around his waist. You could pretend to be unbothered all you wanted, but he knew you craved touch. It was easy to pick up the way you leaned into any contact at all. He still remembered in Jamaica when you'd slept in the same bed how you followed him, sought out his warmth, if he moved away from you.

Now you leaned into his chest, leaning up on your toes to kiss him, which he obliged. His tongue making languid strokes into your mouth while his hands kept you anchored to him.

It was true that Robby slept around and he wasn't always the best at considering his partner's feelings. There was that woman just a few weeks ago who'd slept in his bed and he couldn't recall her name.

But he was trying to be better about that with you. He didn't want to hurt you, if for no other reason than it would make things difficult around here. But it felt like the closer you allowed him physically the more closed off you were emotionally.

Maybe that was for the best. He had plenty of his own shit to deal with.

He pulled back slightly, his hands reaching up to cradle your face, "I really am worried about you," he said softly, and found that he meant it, "You can trust me with whatever it is."

Your eyes flared with an emotion he couldn't place, but then you blinked and it was gone. Instead, you smiled and nudged your nose against his, "I'm fine. I promise."

He sighed, "Fine. But if I said I want you to come home with me because I sleep better when someone else is nearby, would you be more likely to indulge me?"

You disentangled yourself from his arms and grabbed your backpack off the floor and slung it over your shoulder, "I can't, but thank you for the offer."

He nodded, "Can you at least tell me that the reason you won't come home with me and won't tell me where you live isn't because you already have a significant other at home?"

At that, you smiled, "Don't worry, Robinavitch, you're my one and only."

He shook his head, "I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse."

"Goodnight," You swung the door of the room open, "See you tomorrow."

The door closed behind you and Robby sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it blankly. He sat there for a while, staring after you. Part of him hoped you'd come back.

It was a distinct torture, he found, that he had you, but not quite. He hadn't realized that much of the reason he had been sleeping with various women was because he liked when he wasn't the only one in his home. He liked it when someone else was next to him, when he could hear someone else breathing, alive, beside him.

But now that you refused him over and over, he felt even more alone.

Maybe that was why a few days later, when Noelle texted him late at night, he invited her over. It felt bad, wrong, lying in bed with her with the TV on. Her head laid on his chest and he felt sad all over again.

After that, he felt irritated. It only made him want you more, your insistence to pull away and build walls. He couldn't enjoy intimacy with anyone else. He didn't think he was usually this possessive, his eyes following your every move across the ED with near predatory intent.

When he saw you flirting with the EMT, the way you smiled at him, he felt sick. Like you had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, still beating between your fingers.

But still, he shoved it down and acted nonchalant later when he came to stand next to you at the board, "Meet me upstairs after shift?" he asked softly, looking around the department over your head.

Miraculously, Perlah and Princess had been true to their word about keeping everything under wraps, even convincing Trinity that they had been wrong about it. He assumed his rekindling things with Noelle had been helpful in pushing her off the scent as well. At least his idiocy was good for something.

"I can't today," you said, not looking at him, Apple pencil resting against your lips, "I have plans."

He hummed, "The EMT?"

"Brian?" Slowly, your eyes flitted to his, "Maybe. I don't think that's really your business."

"It is my business if we're sleeping together."

You laughed, the sound grating rather than the soft trilling he heard earlier, "Really? Because last I heard it was Noelle who was in your bed and you didn't think to tell me about that."

He smiled smugly at the vitriol in your voice, pleased to see that you were just as jealous as he was, "Is that what this is about?" You rolled your eyes and began to walk away and he followed, easily keeping pace with you despite how you tried to outrun him, "You've made it pretty clear that you have no desire to be in my bed, so I'm not sure how you could be upset with me."

"I'm not upset," You said, though your tone was sharp as daggers, eager to impale him on every word, "It just would've been nice to be given a heads up instead of having to watch you flirt with her right in front of me and listen to the nurses gossip about it all day."

He tilted his head, "You mean the same way you've been rubbing it in my face with Brian all day?"

The corner of your lip twitched up into a smile, "So it worked, then?"

He laughed and shook his head, "Are you gonna go home with him tonight? His bed is good enough for you?"

You sighed, "I don't know why you're so hung up on this. You run through women like a fucking train—as evidenced by getting your dick wet with Noelle when you were just inside me not even twenty four hours before—and yet you find it confusing why I wouldn't go home with you? Why I'm trying to keep my distance?"

"If you had just come home with me I wouldn't have called Noelle at all."

You narrowed your eyes at him, jaw going slack in exasperation, "Okay, so the second you don't get your way you're reaching for a new toy?"

He ran a hand over his face, "That's not what I meant."

"Right," you said tersely, "I think we're done here."

When you walked away he watched you go, running his hand over the back of his head. No matter how hard he tried not to, he seemed to just keep digging himself deeper in a hole with you.

***

The date was horrible. As horrible as a date could get, maybe even worse than the worst date you'd ever had. Any chemistry you thought you had picked up on in the ED seemed to evaporate and he was really rude to the waitress who took your order. So rude, in fact, you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom so you could find the waitress, apologize profusely, and ask for her Venmo so you could send her a huge tip.

You sat across from him for nearly two hours and kept thinking about Robby, how the only reason you were here was because he had driven you to such irrational levels of irritation. You hated being jealous, it made your skin itch, it gave power to Robby that you never ever wanted him to have. It was terrifying knowing that he had that sort of control over you, that just seeing him with Noelle had made it hard to breathe, had made you feel nauseous, had thrown you off for the entire day.

In order to make it through the date with your sanity and to stop thinking about Robby, you had overcompensated with alcohol. You'd lost count of how many drinks you ordered, but you felt mostly fine, until you stood up to leave and the world tilted.

"Woah—" A hand was at your elbow, steadying you. Then on your back, then your waist. He was saying things in your ear as you left the restaurant, but the world was beginning to gray at the edges.

Your breathing began to come in fits and starts, your chest tight and painful. You tried to slap his hands away, you wanted to call an Uber, but he stayed firm.

"Stop," You meant to dig your heels into the pavement, but he practically lifted you off your feet, leading you behind the restaurant, near the dumpsters. The panic had really taken hold now, tears beginning to collect at the corners of your eyes.

You were too drunk, you didn't feel right, you didn't feel like yourself, you felt like you were floating above yourself as his hands wandered, his hot mouth on your neck, as he shoved you against the brick wall.

"Stop, I don't want to—Stop!" You don't remember thinking about it, it must have been some sort of primal instinct to drive your knee into his groin—But it got him to release you.

Cursing, he backed away from you and you tried to catch your breath, heart still in your throat and hands shaking.

You had the vague sense that he was shouting at you, but all you caught at the end was "—stupid cunt—" Before he spat in your general direction and turned his back on you.

Looking back on it, you didn't think you wanted to hurt him—Just maybe scare him a little. Or perhaps you went a little wild with rage, like a dog who'd been hit one too many times. You longed to bite back, sink your teeth into soft flesh. But as he began to walk away, you picked up a half broken beer bottle that was on the ground near the dumpster and threw it in his direction, causing it to shatter against the pavement near his feet.

He turned back to you, like he was ready to lunge, and you regretted it immediately. You felt like you'd knowingly provoked a predator, alerting it to its next meal. But then blue lights flashed across his face, the brief whoop of a siren, and you turned to see a police car parked not more than a hundred feet away.

For the briefest of moments, you felt vindication. Surely they had been there the whole time, had witnessed him about to force himself onto you and were here to take him away.

But when they got out of the car, they stopped to talk to him first and you watched with growing apprehension as they acted fraternal. Shook hands and slapped each other on the shoulder. And then Brian was walking away, a spring in his step, and they were walking towards you.

It was difficult later to recall the exact details, you were too far gone in your own panic attack as well as the alcohol, but you did think you tried to fight back when they told you you were under arrest for disorderly conduct. You're sure you were sobbing and incoherent, but you had tried asking them about Brian, told them he'd tried to force himself on you, but they were unempathetic and eventually the fight went out of you as they confiscated your things and put you in the back of their cruiser.

Your breathing rattled in your chest, silent tears streaming down your face the whole ride. When you threw up in the back of their cruiser, it made you feel only slightly better imagining they'd have to clean up after you. Pigs.

"We're just keeping you until you sober up," They said after you were processed and put in a cell.

"I want a phone call, can I have my phone?"

"You can have a phone call, but you can't use your phone so you better know a number by heart."

You wanted to scream. Of course you didn't know any fucking numbers by heart. The only number you knew by heart was your father's old landline that he'd taken out years ago at your suggestion.

Feeling defeated and sorry for yourself, you curled up on a cold bench. You weren't sure who you would call anyway, even if you had your phone. Cecelia was the only person you wouldn't feel humiliated by seeing like this and she was staying with your father overnight with her husband at your request.

You hadn't been planning to spend the night at Brian's house, but McKay had asked you to meet her later to go dancing as it was her ex's weekend with her son. She'd said you could crash at her place after and you had intended to take advantage of that, to sleep somewhere that didn't feel so haunted and full of decaying memories.

Maybe if you had your phone you could've called McKay. You weren't super close, but she was open about her history and had never seemed judgmental in the least. Didn't matter, though, you couldn't use your fucking phone. Seemingly for no reason other than they were being spiteful. Probably because you threw up in their car.

You had been in enough trouble as a teenager to know that disorderly conduct was a summary offense that usually warranted only a ticket if the offender had ceased the behavior upon receiving a warning, not an arrest. You couldn't remember, but you didn't think they had given you a warning.

It was cold in the cell and in a useless attempt to warm your hands, you shoved them in the pockets of your jeans— to find a piece of card stock poking into one of your hands. Frowning, you pulled it out to examine it and found Robby's business card, his personal cell scribbled on the back. These were the jeans you had worn to the airport on the flight back to Jamaica.

You stared at his phone number, his messy scrawl that you had become so familiar with over the last couple of months, and wondered if you could bear it. If you could swallow your pride and call him to see if he'd come get you, faced with both humiliation and the possibility of rejection. Or if you'd sit and stare at the cement ceiling, shivering all night.

Unfortunately, the thought of spending the whole night here was immediately spiral inducing. You could not stay here. Well, you could, but you knew you'd regret at least not trying to get out.

So, tail tucked between your legs and business card clutched in hand, you asked for the phone.