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“No, no, not for me, my patient,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Please, I wish it was for me.”

“Why do you need a condom for a patient?” you asked, amused almost. “Is he hot?”

“What? No? My patient, he's HIV but apparently very, very active and he doesn't have condoms. He says he-he prefers it without and I've explained everything to him but there's no condoms in the draw where we keep them!” explained Samira.

“We have a condom draw?” asked Trinity, taking only that as the necessary information from Mohan's ramble.

You handed her the chart. “You sleep with women.”

“What? So I'm not allowed in the condom draw?”

“It's for sex ed teachings, people who are young and having sex,” you shrugged. “Stuff like that. Come on, I can help you out.”

The nurses desk was practically vacant. Around you everyone busied themselves with greeting the nigh shift and getting them out, taking away patients like the changing of the guard. It was almost too early to be dealing with tough patients who wouldn't protect themselves.

You led the way around the counter, Mohan and Santos (who took an invitation for herself) followed you over to the desk as you reached down for Robby's bag, propping it up.

It was no surprise to them that you were reaching for his bag, reaching for his stuff like it was yours. What was Robby's was yours. The real surprise had been when Mel found the two of you eight months ago making out in the storage room, shrieking and dropping a bag of blood that then splashed all over you.

And obviously at the scream everyone ran over and found the two of you rather compromised and covered in blood. You still weren't really done living that down.

You fished around in Robby's bag, the owner somewhere not there to see as you brought out an opened box of condoms. “Here,” you said handing her a thick strip as Santos laughed.

Samira took them wearily, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Won't you... miss these?”

“No,” you said, rocking on your heels, suddenly feeling the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment. “We have... more.”

Santos smirked. “Keeping Robby in shape, huh?”

Samira shuddered. “I really don't want to think about my boss like that, but thank you!” you said, waving the strip like it was a flag and rushing off before her patient could walk off. She was a good doctor, dedicated you knew and you were just happy to help her reach her potential.

Distracted by watching her leave you failed to notice Trinity sneak over to Robby's bag, peeking inside like a nosy cat.

“Hey!” you lectured, pulling the zipper shut on her hand.

“What? Just wanted to know what else you got in there? Does he keep a pair of panties? Vibrator if it gets quiet,” she teased.

You blushed, shaking your head and looking down to the bag. “You have no shame, that's your boss you're talking about.”

She made a pfft noise. “You're the one screwing him.”

Yes, you were. Proudly and happily.

Javadi slid up next to you, practically shoving you a tablet and asking for your advice. You were somewhere deep in your residency, one of the first they were introduced to on their hell of a first day. Not as scary as Robby, easier to talk to than Langdon. It was typical for the Pittlings and Mohan to come to you when they needed advice. You liked it really, as much as Santos teased you and as much as Mohan and Javadi doubted themselves.

“Hey Crash,” said Trinity, all but giddy with the new knowledge she had about Doctor Robby's contents in his bag. “You wanna know what's in this bag of secrets.”

“No,” you chastised.

Javadi's eyes lightened up. “Is that Doctor Robby's bag?”

“It doesn't matter,” you said, pushing it back down to your feet.

“Hey,” Samira joined the group of you again, handing you back the strip of condoms. “He said he can't take these.” The rest of the doctors and nurses hustled around the Pitt, un-knowing of the personal dilemmas being aired out.

You lifted your shoulders. “You needed condoms, those are condoms.”

“Yes but they're not the right size,” said Mohan. “He says they wouldn't fit, they're too big.”

Oh.

Perhaps at some point you'd been shocked at the size of Robby. Before you'd only had your imagination and hints of him beneath his scrubs. The times when he'd brush past you in the teasing beginning of your relationship and you'd feel something prod at you. The first time he'd dragged you to his bedroom, lips seething in heat and teeth nipping in want to only lay you out on his bed and drag his pants and underwear down to show all of him- then you'd been shocked. Mouth watering so.

Over the months the shock transformed to desire, reaching hands and an eager mouth that you stopped thinking about the size.

You didn't think anything of it when you handed Mohan a strip of five extra-large condoms.

Standing at the nurses station it may as well have been a deserted island and you stared down at the condoms like it was your first offering of food.

“Uh-”

Javadi snatched the condoms from Samira first, staring down at them with mouth agape. “Oh my god.”

“Javadi-”

“Holy shit!”

You looked back and Santos had pulled out Robby's bag again, pulling out the box and staring at the size stamped on the front. “Santos!”

“No wonder you walk in limping.”

“I do not- I do not walk in limping!”

“Well, there was that one time-” said Mohan.

“No, there wasn't!” you argued. “I'd bruised my ankle.”

Mohan chuckled to herself. “Sure.”

Trinity smirked. “Bruised something.”

Javadi was still staring at the strip of condoms in wonder. “How do they even get this big?”

You snatched them away from her the way you might have if a child found them. Quickly you stuffed them in the box, threw them back in Robby's bag and kept it behind your back.

“Wait, why do you have a box of condoms for work?” asked Javadi.

“Oh please,” said Santos with a groan. “They're always at it in work. Better safe than sorry.”

“We are not always at it at work,” you defended.

“The storage closet?” asked Mohan, apparently abandoning the venture of finding fitting condoms for her patient.

You held up a finger. “That was one time.”

“The toilets,” added Santos, sadly remembering the time you and Robby had hid yourselves in the bathroom for a break. A break that was only supposed to be comforting touched turned hot and reaching quickly.

“That one time in the exam room where we thought we were examining a broken hip for a Mrs Driscoll-” began Javadi.

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you interrupted.

“I think it's nice,” Trinity quipped her lip, arms crossing over her chest. “Get some dick when you can right.” She patted your shoulder like a proud sister as she left the group of you, laughing quietly to herself.

Victoria and Samira followed suit, leaving you with the ramifications of your own embarrassment. So what your boyfriend was largely endowed, wasn't it a compliment? Weren't you the luckiest girl in the world to have Robby with soft and tender touches turned to almost hateful thrusts with how hard he loved you.

You made sure Robby's bag was tightly closed before sliding it back under the desk.

The day brought the same usual storm the ED always brought. Enough to distract you from the mornings events and the package sitting inside of Robby's bag. You were left with only a creeping heat crawling up your neck, the last dregs of your doctors eyes on you and their giddy smiles.

You'd only managed to make it to the staff lounge for a coffee by mid day, taking the mug that was yours, marked with an inside joke and given one secret Santa round.

“Hey.” Robby slipped into the room, leaning his back against the sink and standing next to you.

“Hey yourself.”

For a moment there was a silence where you poured coffee for the both of you, handing him his mug.

Robby's fingers grazed yours, the simplest touch sending shivers through your skin. “Can I ask you something?”

You hummed, head tucked away. He wouldn't have heard about the mornings teasing's, would he?

“Santos has been... off today,” he said.

He would.

You gulped, a feign of concern falling to you. “She has?”

“Keeps looking at me and smirking. She's doing this thing with her hands where she-” he demonstrated, spreading his hands to different distances, some small, some bigger. His hands wavered around the imaginary object between his hands.

You were left groaning.

Robby's head tilted toward you. “Do you know anything?”

In attempts of hiding away the story your head ducked and shook side to side.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Robby's fingers were slightly calloused but no less humble as he pinched your chin, realigning his gaze with yours. His brows rose, gaze pouring into yours. He didn't even have to ask you again.

You sighed. “This morning Mohan had a patient with HIV and she wanted to give him condoms but there was none where they usually are so I gave her some of ours. But they weren't exactly... the right size.”

There was a small furrow of confusion in his face as he waited for you to elaborate.

You turned your body into his, lowering your voice. “Not everybody can fit into an extra large, Robby.”

The furrow gave and a small grin split his cheeks as he glanced down to your shoes, a pink blooming under his beard and to his cheeks. It was different from your own embarrassment. He was more pleased with himself.

Robby straightened, hands wavering. “So how does... this connect to-”

“Santos was there this morning when Samira asked.”

He chuckled, tongue poking out into his cheek as he shook his head in amusement.

“It's not funny,” you said, nudging him.

He rocked on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Your coffee was turning lukewarm in hand, the bitter taste suddenly too sweet as you made to walk away from him and stew in your own humiliation.

Robby's fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged, using you to pull himself in closer. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he teased, voice dropping into the low drag in his condescending way. The sort of voice he used to coax you down into bed with his darkening eyes and lustful approach. “Is my dick too big? Do I fuck you too good?” His hands grabbed at your hips, bringing you into him, tongue darting out to your neck.

Your body wriggled in his hold, trying to escape as his arms grew strong around you. “Stop!” You laughed.

“Make me.” He nipped at your neck, licking over the sting he caused.

The door was pushed open and Langdon stumbled in the doorway, catching sight of the two of you tangled in arms and laughter.

“Are you two doing it in the lounge now?” he asked.

You guessed you just should've been thankful Langdon wasn't there that morning, otherwise there would have been competitions between him and Santos on who could make the best jokes out of your misery.

Slowly, Robby moved away from you, pulling himself up straight and pulling at his hoodie before leading the way out the room.

McKay was wheeling a patient away to x-ray, Samira was giving aftercare instructions to an elderly couple and Mel was somewhere lurking in a corner talking to Dana.

Santos, however, was still being the most productive, sitting across from Javadi and still trying to make sense of some invisible size between her hands.

You watched, un-able to stop as Robby walked behind Santos and spread her hands apart just a little, enough to leave more than enough inches between her hands.

Robby walked away, satisfied.

"This is the alarm code-”

"Jesus, what neighbourhood do you live in again?"

"You don't have to use it, but a young woman staying alone? I want you to feel safe."

He handed you the note. That felt sweet.

You weren't entirely sure how you'd ended up being the one house-sitting for Robby while he disappeared on a three month sabbatical. You were the newest resident, barely eight months into your time at PTMC, but for whatever reason he seemed to trust you. He liked the way you taught, how patient you were with the med students, how you somehow managed to balance nurturing them without letting them walk all over you.

You'd been a little intimidated by him when you first arrived. Robby didn't take mistakes lightly. If you fucked up, you fucked up. There was no sugar coating it.

But he'd turned out to be a better teacher than you'd expected, taking you under his wing and dragging you into procedures most residents would have had to fight to get near. Sometimes you wanted to call it favouritism but it was probably just him doing his job. Probably.

"Anything else I need to know?" you asked. "Weird neighbours, paranormal activity, stalker exes?"

You tried to keep a straight face, only for the corners of your mouth to betray you.

He shook his head, laughing. "You sure you're okay doing this?"

"Are you kidding? This is gonna be like a vacation for me."

Robby nodded once, seemingly satisfied, and dropped the keys into your palm.

"Good. Call me if you need anything."

He started backing away towards the chaos of the ER. "Hey, remember. No parties, no pets, no boyfriends. Yours or anybody else's."

You scoffed, not quite loud enough for him to hear. Party? Required more than three friends. Pets? Required energy. And boyfriend? Don't even go there.

You didn't see Robby again before he left. Maybe the apartment handover had counted as a goodbye, or maybe the ER had simply done what it always did and swallowed every spare second before anyone got the chance to wave him off into the sunset.

Either way, all you could really focus on right now was three whole months without roommates and a bed bigger than a single. Happy days.

-

You managed to slip off shift without attracting any attention from the nurses or the night shift. Robby had said the only person he'd told about the house-sitting arrangement was Abbot. If you wanted to tell people, you could, but he didn't particularly care either way.

You decided to keep it quiet.

Work wasn't really where you made friends. You had three good ones on the outside but that was mostly it. Everyone was nice enough in the ER, and there had been the occasional invitation for drinks after a shift, but by seven o'clock you were usually too exhausted to be anything but horizontal.

Your circle stayed small, mainly Mckay and Ellis within the hospital.

You worked with Cassie every day and had become close over the months, and Parker had been your person during those brutal night shift rotations when you first arrived in Pittsburgh.

Either way, you made it to Robby's building without interception. Silver key for the lobby and brass for the apartment. Just like he'd said.

The building itself was nice. Clean hallways, warm lighting, planters hanging in the windows. The kind of place that felt looked after without trying too hard about it. The apartment was even nicer. Or maybe it just felt huge compared to the place you shared with four other girls.

"Well, fuck." The words slipped out before you could stop them as you flicked on the light switch.

The front door opened into a small hallway that led into a spacious living room, all exposed brick and worn hardwood floors. A brown leather sofa sat opposite a huge TV, surrounded by shelves packed with books and an almost concerning number of CDs.

You drifted towards them automatically, scanning album titles as you went. Pearl Jam, R.E.M., Jeff Buckley. A laugh escaped you.

"Checks out."

Your finger brushed across the collection before you moved on, abandoning your investigation in favour of something far more important.

Bed.

The guest room had already been made up for you, fresh sheets stretched neatly across the mattress and extra towels folded at the end like you were checking into a hotel instead of crashing in your attending's spare room. It made you smile.

Maybe your standards for grand gestures were embarrassingly low, but between that and the hundred dollars waiting on the kitchen counter with a note that read for anything you need, you couldn't help it.

There was still plenty left to explore. The contents of his fridge, the bookshelves, photo albums (or lack thereof) and most definitely the bedside drawers. But not tonight.

You peeled off your scrubs, barely managing to change before exhaustion caught up with you. Within minutes you were under the covers, eyes heavy, asleep before your head had properly settled into the pillow.

-

Turns out this house-sitting gig was absolute heaven.

Two days in and it was already starting to feel less like a favour and more like a reward.

Today was your day off. You'd actually eaten breakfast instead of inhaling a protein bar, spent the afternoon doing absolutely nothing productive and met up with a couple of friends for drinks that evening. The friends who weren't doctors, nurses or in any way connected to the hospital.

Then you'd come home, changed into something comfortable and settled onto Robby's sofa with your book.

Life was good.

So far, the hundred dollars he'd left behind had contributed to a half-full fridge and a bottle of wine, which felt perfectly reasonable considering Robby had specifically said it was for anything you needed. It was somewhere around chapter twenty-three of your hot romance fantasy novel (not one of Robby's) when your phone buzzed beside you.

Robby:

Hey, hope you're good. Just checking in to make sure everything's okay?

You smiled before you could stop yourself. He was so proper. So formal. Even his texts somehow read like work emails. Still, you appreciated him checking since you honestly hadn't expected to hear from him at all.

The whole point of this trip was supposed to be getting away. You'd heard him say more than once that he wanted to leave Pittsburgh and everyone in it behind for a while. No calls. No emails. As close to no contact as he could realistically get. According to Robby, that was the only way to properly clear your head.

The one exception had always been Abbot, maybe even Dana. Apparently now it was the three of you.

You:

all good! your apartment is insane by the way

and thank u for the money, u didn't have to!

You took a sip of wine as you hit send. A reply came almost immediately.

Robby:

You're doing me a huge favour!

Spend wisely…

A laugh escaped you. You were a little tipsy by now. Not drunk, just pleasantly warm from the two glasses of pinot you'd had at the bar combined with the one currently sitting beside you. Which, admittedly, was a lot considering you barely drank.

Without thinking too hard about it, you snapped a picture of the glass balanced on the coffee table. Then you zoomed in slightly. Mostly to crop out the fact you weren't using a coaster.

You:

wise you say???

The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. You frowned at the screen.

For some reason, a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. Maybe the photo was weird. Maybe the lipstick mark on the rim was weird. Maybe it was weird to be sitting in your attending's apartment drinking wine and texting him on a Friday night.

Before you could overthink it further, another message appeared.

Robby:

Naughty!

Your stomach flipped. It was ridiculous. The word itself wasn't even remotely suggestive. If anything, it was probably about the coaster.

But between the wine and the book currently sitting open beside you, the message seemed to land somewhere deep in your belly. You stared at it for a second longer than necessary.

"Time for bed." You said it out loud, as though hearing it might make it true.

Leaving the glass on the coffee table with a single sip left, you gathered your book and headed for the guest room.

-

Robby stared at the photo for longer than he meant to. Not at the wine or the coffee table and certainly not at the missing coaster.

His attention had landed on the faint lipstick mark circling the rim of the glass and stayed there for a second too long before he caught himself. He sat back against the headboard of the hotel bed, somewhere around Chicago, after a long day on the road.

The room was forgettable. Beige walls. Generic artwork. The low hum of an air conditioner fighting for its life in the corner. Exactly the kind of place he'd expected to find himself in.

He'd only been checking in. That was all.

You were doing him a favour and it seemed polite to make sure everything was going smoothly.

Except now he found himself picturing you in his apartment. Curled up on the couch, feet tucked beneath you. A glass of wine in one hand and whatever book had managed to distract you from answering his text in the other.

His apartment. His couch. His glass.

He exhaled through his nose. It was ridiculous. Of course you were there, that was the entire point. For the next three months you were going to be using his mugs, watching his TV, standing under his shower and sleeping in the guest room.

None of that should have felt strange. And it didn't. Not really. It had just been that split second when the photograph appeared on his screen and his brain had connected the image to a real person rather than the vague idea of someone looking after his place.

Someone he'd see almost every day at work. Someone currently sitting exactly where he usually sat. Robby shook his head once, more at himself than anything else.

Then he typed out the reply.

Naughty!

The second it was sent, he dropped the phone onto the bedside table and turned off the lamp. Tomorrow he'd have another few hours of driving ahead of him. That was what he should be thinking about.

Not a lipstick stain on a wine glass.

-

It was strange how different work felt when you had somewhere peaceful to come home to.

The shifts were still long and the patients exhausting. None of that changed. But when there were no roommate arguments waiting for you at the end of the day, no mountain of dishes that didn't belong to you and no obnoxiously loud sex through the wall at midnight, everything felt a little more manageable.

You had energy again. Energy to come home and shower. Energy to cook. Energy to actually enjoy your evenings instead of collapsing face-first into bed.

You'd always been a good cook. Your mom had made sure of that. While other kids were watching TV, you'd been standing beside her in the kitchen learning how to chop onions without crying and season food without measuring every ingredient.

Your family tree contained exactly zero Italians, but your signature dish was carbonara. Real carbonara. The proper kind. The kind that required ingredients expensive enough to make you wince in the grocery aisle.

Which was exactly why you rarely made it. But with Robby's hundred dollars quietly subsidising your lifestyle, you figured you deserved a treat.

The plan was going perfectly until you tried to turn on the hob.

"Come on."

You twisted the dial until it clicked. Nothing. You tried again.

Another click. Still nothing.

By the fourth attempt, you were staring at the appliance like it had personally offended you.

"Am I losing my mind?"

Getting a burner lit should not have been this difficult. You glanced at your phone sitting on the counter.

No. Absolutely not.

You were not texting Robby because you couldn't operate a stove. You were a doctor, a functioning adult. You could figure this out.

Another click. Nothing. "For fuck's sake." The curse echoed around the kitchen. A few seconds later, you picked up your phone.

You:

i don't want you to think i'm completely incompetent but i cannot work your hob…

Three states away, Robby's phone lit up. He'd spent most of the day hiking through some forest outside Rockford before ending the evening under a shower hot enough to steam up the entire bathroom.

He walked over to the phone, towel slung low around his waist, hair still damp. The text made him laugh.

Robby:

You have to turn and press. It's more of a button than a switch!

Also don't worry, I couldn't work it for the first six months I lived there because of that…

It was strangely comforting to know a physician widely regarded as one of the smartest people in Pittsburgh had also been defeated by a kitchen appliance.

Following his instructions, you pushed the dial inward and a blue flame immediately burst to life.

"Oh thank god."

You set a pot of water on one burner and poured oil into a pan on the other before reaching for your phone again.

You:

life saver. i was about to starve

and the great robby also not knowing how to operate a stove makes me feel better so thank u

Back in his hotel room, Robby laughed quietly at the screen. A small smile lingered as he reread your message.

He'd answered your question, technically the conversation could end there and it probably should. Instead, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a second.

Robby:

What are you cooking anyway?

You saw the message while stirring egg and cheese into freshly drained pasta. Not now. Carbonara required concentration and you weren't risking scrambled eggs for anybody.

Five minutes later, when the sauce was silky and clinging perfectly to the noodles, you twisted a generous serving onto a plate and admired your handiwork.

Then you grabbed your phone.

You:

carbonara!

You attached the picture before hitting send.

The photo sat open on his screen for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected, certainly not that. It looked better than anything he'd eaten in the last week.

After a moment he tapped the heart reaction and tossed the phone onto the mattress beside him. He ignored the part of himself that wanted to ask for the recipe.

-

The next two days brought two hellish shifts.

First a mass casualty then a stomach bug that seemed determined to take down half the ER.

Dana did her best to pull people in for extra coverage, Abbot came in early and somehow ended up working a double, but even that barely kept things afloat. It was chaos. The kind that left you running entirely on adrenaline until your body remembered it was human.

You finally made it home just before eleven: a personal record. The worst part was that when you dragged yourself up the stairs, peeled off your scrubs and collapsed into bed, you couldn't sleep.

You were trapped in that miserable state of overtiredness where your body was begging for rest while your brain stubbornly refused to switch off.

You hadn't looked at your phone once during the shift. Not during the mass casualty or the endless stream of patients. Not even while inhaling a granola bar somewhere around hour twelve. It stayed buried in your pocket until you stepped through the apartment door.

It wasn't until you were under the covers that you finally saw the notification waiting for you.

Robby:

I had diner food for the third night in a row tonight, your carbonara is making me look bad…

He'd given you a rough outline of his route before he left and, if you remembered correctly, he should be somewhere near Minneapolis by now. An hour behind. Not too late.

You:

trust me, my carbonara is the least impressive thing about my week

i just survived a mass casualty and half the department trying to die from a stomach bug

diner food sounds peaceful honestly

Robby:

Mass casualty?

You:

three car pile up

and before you ask everyone survived

mostly because abbot worked about seventeen hours straight

Robby:

I leave for one week…

You:

i was waiting for someone to blame

Robby:

Blame Dana…

You:

do you think i have a death wish???

that's not the attending wisdom i was hoping for

Robby:

🤷🏻‍♂️ ️

You stare at the screen. He's using emojis now? Something about that feels strangely significant.

The conversation probably should have ended three messages ago. Instead, another text appears a few seconds later.

Robby:

You okay?

The question catches you off guard. Not because it's particularly personal, just because he seems to actually mean it. You stare at the message for a moment before replying.

You:

yeah

just tired

too tired to sleep which is apparently a thing

Robby:

Been there. Your body's exhausted but the brain's stress response overrides it

Makes for a very restless night

You:

oh good

thought i was dying

Robby:

You're a doctor..

You always think you're dying

A quiet laugh escapes you. You weren't entirely sure why any of this felt comforting.

After one of the worst shifts you'd worked in months, you were lying awake in your attending's apartment, texting your boss from beneath the covers.

On paper, it sounded ridiculous but the knot that had been sitting between your shoulders since this morning was slowly beginning to loosen.

Your eyes felt heavier, your body sank deeper into the mattress and the first time all night, sleep actually seemed possible.

You:

night robby x

You hit send before thinking too hard about it. A second passed. Then two. Then your phone lit up.

Robby:

Sleep well!

You smiled at the screen. By the time you set your phone on the bedside table, your eyes were already closing.

Robby didn't go to sleep straight away.

Instead he sat against the headboard, phone still in his hand, staring at the open conversation. The room was quiet. Outside, somewhere beyond the hotel curtains, a truck rumbled along the interstate.

His thumb drifted across the screen and paused, hovering over the last message.

night robby x

Just one stupid little letter. It probably meant absolutely nothing. For all he knew, you signed every text that way. You were exhausted when you'd sent it, practically half asleep and already drifting off. He knew that. So why was he still looking at it?

With a quiet huff of amusement at himself, Robby locked the screen.

Tomorrow he'd drive another few hundred miles, stay at another hotel, eat another mediocre meal. Continue doing exactly what he'd left Pittsburgh to do.

And yet, as he finally switched off the lamp and settled back against the pillows, he found himself wondering whether you'd text him tomorrow.

The thought stayed with him longer than it should have. Long enough that sleep didn't come quite as quickly as usual.

-

The next few days settled into something that almost resembled normality (or at least as normal as life in the ER ever got).

The stomach bug finally burned its way through the department, leaving a trail of exhaustion and empty electrolyte bottles in its wake. Everyone looked tired and complained constantly. You included.

It was nearing the end of another shift when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You ignored it only for it to buzz again.

And because every doctor secretly believed they were the most important person in the building, your brain immediately convinced itself it could be an emergency.

You pulled it out while waiting for the elevator.

Robby:

Rode twenty minutes off route for this

You opened it. Then frowned. Then laughed.

You:

what the fuck is that

Robby:

The world's largest prairie chicken

You:

of course it is

you rode twenty minutes out of your way to see a giant chicken?

Robby:

Yes.

You:

no further questions your honour

The elevator doors opened. You stepped inside, still smiling at your phone. Another message appeared.

Robby:

Thought you'd appreciate it!

Your lips curled at the suggestion he had taken the picture with you in mind.

You:

i'm genuinely concerned about how you're spending this sabbatical

Robby:

That's fair

For the record I did also spend six hours riding through some very beautiful countryside today

You:

and yet it was the giant chicken you sent

Robby:

Correct.

You laughed, probably too loud for the setting as others in the lift glanced over before you quickly looked away.

You:

well i'm glad my attending is making good use of his time

Robby:

You laughed didn't you?

You:

immediately

The elevator dinged and people shuffled out around you while you lingered behind, looking down at the conversation. At the completely pointless exchange.

The kind of conversation that served no purpose whatsoever and yet somehow it had made the end of a miserable shift feel lighter.

Robby:

Worth the detour then

You shook your head but the smile wouldn't disappear. It stayed with you all the way to the parking lot.

Across the county, Robby sat on the edge of his hotel bed with the television murmuring quietly in the background.

The hotels he was staying in were nice, he had the money to stay in much nicer but there wasn't much point when only passing through.

The final destination was a cabin in Alberta. That's where he'd spend the rest of the sabbatical when he got there, that he had spared no expense on.

But he didn't find himself thinking of his trip. The conversation still sat open on his phone. Nothing important, just the giant chicken staring back at him amongst a handful of messages and a stupid amount of amusement considering the subject matter.

After a minute, he locked the screen and set the phone aside. Then despite himself, he found his gaze drifting back towards it as though another message might somehow appear.

He'd be crossing into North Dakota soon and if he happened to see anything ridiculous along the way…

Well he knew exactly who he'd send it to.

-

The next few days followed suit. You and Robby started speaking like it was part of your routines without ever actually agreeing to it.

Nothing constant or heavy, just small check-ins threaded through the day. Snapshots from the road. Snapshots from the ER.

Things you'd caught out of the corner of your eye like the giant pigeon on a fire escape outside the hospital that made you stop mid-conversation just to take a picture.

Food also became a kind of currency between you. The home-cooked meals you'd send, still steaming on the plate whilst he'd drop his roadside breakfasts, gas station coffee, or whatever local specialty he'd found himself staring at that day.

You started waiting for the messages without really meaning to. Both of you did.

Robby:

This morning's view

You:

versus my morning's view

—

You:

i'm going old school and listening to your CDs

you have good taste old man

Robby:

I'll ignore those last two words and take it as a compliment...

—

Robby:

Got caught in a thunderstorm on the road today

You:

😭😭😭 😭 😭 omg

just know i'd be laughing if i were there

—

You:

robby

a guy came in today with an action figure up his ass

and dana made whitaker deal with it

Robby:

Nothing says good evening quite like a HIPAA violation

You:

i know you won't tell x

—

Somewhere between shifts and miles, the apartment stopped being the reason you spoke. It just became something that existed in the background, as if you'd both forgotten the house-sitting gig and this was all normal.

An excuse that had quietly turned into a habit. You didn't really notice the shift until one night you didn't text him at all.

Not on purpose, because of pure exhaustion. A shift that ran too long, a body too tired to think in sentences.

And on his end, Robby found himself checking his phone more than he liked to admit. Each time with a little more irritation than the last.

"Stupid." He muttered under his breath, tossing the phone face-down on the bed.

It didn't stay there long since he picked it back up a minute later.

His trip was still everything it was supposed to be. Long stretches of highway and peaceful mornings. Mountains, towns, weather that changed without warning.

It was all the kind of distance he'd been looking for and for the most part, the noise in his head had settled. It wasn't gone, he needed more than a solo road trip to fix that but it was quieter.

It was at its quietest when you text. Or when he took a picture and thought, without really meaning to, that you'd probably laugh at it.

Then his phone buzzed.

You:

sorry

today's been awful

The irritation disappeared immediately and he sat down properly on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, he stared at the message longer than he needed to. His first instinct was practical, to ask what happened and if you were okay. But it was nearly midnight your time and he knew, instinctively, that whatever you needed wasn't a barrage of questions.

Robby:

Do you want to talk about it?

You:

think i just need bed

speak tomorrow

He stared at the screen a moment longer than he meant to, leaving the chat open, your name sitting at the top of it. He didn't reply.

There wasn't anything else to say that wouldn't feel like too much.

-

The next day didn't actually bring a text. Or the day after that.

Shift patterns blurred together in the ER anyway, time measured in admissions and discharge paperwork rather than hours. You were exhausted, that was your excuse for not texting Robby. But by the second night, you were wondering what his excuse was.

It wasn't anything dramatic, just… absent.

No photos from the road or pointless updates about whatever strange thing he'd stopped to look at. There'd been no diner food commentary that made you roll your eyes while smiling at your phone.

You told yourself it made sense. Robby was on a bike somewhere between states and you were drowning in back-to-back shifts. There wasn't always going to be time.

Still, your phone felt heavier in your pocket than usual.

On his end, Robby told himself the same thing.

He'd spent most of the day on the road, miles of open highway stretching out ahead of him, the kind of silence he'd gone looking for. It should have felt good and it did, mostly. But every time he stopped for fuel, or pulled off to check a map, his hand drifted to his phone out of habit.

There he would find no new messages and he told himself that was normal.

It was normal. Until it wasn't.

-

It happened on a night that started like any other.

You'd left the hospital later than you meant to, fatigue settling into your bones in that familiar way that made everything feel slightly delayed.

The apartment was quiet when you got back.

You climbed the stairs and only realised something was wrong when your keys didn't turn properly in the lock. You tried it once, twice, three times and nothing. You paused then tried again but the lock didn't budge.

"Oh come on," you muttered under your breath.

You stared at the door for a second, exhaustion making it harder to think than it should have.

Of course this was happening now.

You pulled your phone out, looking who to burden with your troubles and force to come to your rescue. For a second, you considered calling Mckay but her shift had been just as rough as yours and Ellis' night was only just starting in the ER, suddenly you were out of options.

Your thumb hovered. Then moved.

In some hotel in one of the Dakotas, Robby's phone lit up on the bedside. His brow furrowed slightly, not expecting to see your name across the screen.

"Hello?"

Your voice came through slightly breathless and oh so tired.

"Hi," you said. "I have a problem."

He sat up a little straighter without thinking. "Are you okay?"

You let out a short laugh that didn't quite sound amused. "Your lock hates me." There was a pause.

Then, quieter, "Which one?"

"Front door."

"Right," he said. "Stay there."

"I am there."

"No," he corrected. "I mean don't try anything else. Just- stay."

You leaned back against the wall, sliding down slightly until you were sitting on the floor outside his apartment door.

"Robby," you said, "I am physically incapable of breaking your door at this point. I'm too tired to commit crimes."

That earned a small exhale of something that might have been a laugh.

"Good," he said. "I prefer it that way."

There was movement on his end. Fabric shifting, something being set down.

"Okay," he added. "Walk me through what happened."

-

The locksmith said he'd be there in twenty minutes which, judging by his tone, probably meant thirty. You thanked him anyway before ending the call and letting your head fall back against the apartment door.

"Well," you sighed, stretching your legs out in front of you. "Guess I live here now."

The laugh that came through the speaker was soft. You'd heard Robby laugh a hundred times at work, usually in passing conversations or when Dana pulled it out of him, but hearing it through the phone felt strangely personal.

"Could be worse."

"How?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'll let you know when I think of something."

You smiled. For a while, neither of you said anything.

The silence wasn't awkward, which surprised you. You could hear faint traffic somewhere on his end of the line, the distant sound of a television through a hotel wall perhaps.

"Where are you?" you asked eventually.

“Just outside Sioux Falls."

"Fancy..." You shifted against the wall, tucking one knee up towards your chest. "How's the trip?"

There was a pause. Not because he wasn't going to answer, but because he seemed to actually think about it.

"Good." You waited. "Actually, really good."

"Wow."

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you sound that enthusiastic about anything."

"That's not true."

"Robby, I've worked with you for eight months."

"And?"

"The highlight of your emotional range is usually a nod."

That earned a proper laugh. The kind that made you grin before you'd even realised you were doing it. Why were your cheeks getting hot at the idea of making him laugh?

"That's harsh."

"I think you mean accurate."

"I'll have you know I've been having a great time."

“The giant chicken gave it away."

"Don't mock the chicken."

"I'll mock the chicken all I want."

He sighed dramatically. "This is exactly why I send you things."

Your smile lingered, you weren't entirely sure why. Like even if you wanted to get rid of it you couldn't. Maybe because it was nice knowing someone saw something during their day and thought to share it with you. Or maybe because lately, you'd been doing the same thing.

"Seriously though," you said. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

The teasing slipped away a little and you could hear it in his voice when he answered.

"Yeah. I think I needed it more than I realised."

You looked down at the floor. You'd thought that yourself. The difference in him was obvious, even through a screen. The texts were lighter. There was an ease to him that hadn't existed back in Pittsburgh.

"You sound happier."

He didn't answer immediately.

"Maybe."

It wasn't much of a response. Coming from Robby, it felt like a confession.

The conversation drifted after that. Work came up eventually, because it always did. You told him about the latest departmental disaster and he laughed harder than he probably should have at Whitaker's expense. Then somehow you ended up talking about music, and when you admitted you'd been making your way through his CD collection, he spent five minutes defending an album you'd called objectively terrible.

Before either of you realised it, headlights swept across the apartment parking lot. You glanced through the stairwell window to see a white van pulling in.

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's him." You pushed yourself to your feet, brushing imaginary dust from your scrubs. "The locksmith."

"Right."

You checked the time. Nearly forty minutes since you'd spoken to him on the phone.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then you laughed softly.

"I don't think we've ever actually spoken like this before."

"Spoken like what?"

"Just…" You searched for the right words. "Talked."

He huffed a laugh. "We talk all the time."

"About work."

"Hmm. True."

You shook your head. "I know more about a giant prairie chicken than I do about you."

"Now that's probably not true."

"It definitely is."

The locksmith was already making his way towards the building entrance. You tightened your grip on the phone.

"Thanks for staying on the phone with me."

The words slipped out before you could think too hard about them and for a second, there was only the sound of his breathing on the other end.

"Of course." Robby said it with such ease, as if there'd never been any question about it. Something in your chest warmed at that.

"I should go."

"Yeah. You should."

Neither of you hung up immediately. You smiled even though he couldn't see.

"Night, Robby."

"Night."

-

Robby eventually made it to Alberta, trading motels and roadside diners for a cabin tucked between trees and more open sky than you'd ever seen in one place. The photos changed after that. It was less giant roadside attractions and more mountains, lakes so still they looked painted. Sunrises taken from a porch with a mug of coffee balanced somewhere just out of frame.

Your own contributions remained considerably less scenic.

You:

this mornings view

Robby:

Stunning!

You:

i know

thinking of getting it framed

Robby:

You should. Really ties a room together

The conversations drifted in and out of your days. Sometimes twenty messages. Sometimes two.

But there was rarely a day that passed without hearing from him. It had become your normal and that probably should have concerned you more than it did.

One afternoon you were halfway through a grocery shop when your phone buzzed.

Robby:

What's for dinner?

You snorted. Most days he was interested in what you were cooking, never quite getting over how good that carbonara looked weeks ago.

You:

demanding aren't we?

Robby:

I've been living off campfire food

Let me live vicariously

You balanced the basket awkwardly on your hip. Typing with one hand was becoming increasingly impossible so after a moment you sighed and held down the microphone button.

"Okay, so technically I haven't decided yet," you said, navigating around a woman studying avocados with suspicious intensity. "But I was thinking maybe chicken, potatoes, something easy because I had a twelve hour shift and Mckay spent most of it arguing with a guy who was convinced Red Bull counts as water."

You stopped recording and sent it, immediately forgetting about it as you continued to shop.

Robby was sitting on the cabin porch when the notification appeared. A voice note.

For a second he just looked at it before pressing play. Your voice spilled through the speaker, lighter than he was used to hearing at work, less hurried.

He could hear the wheels of a shopping cart somewhere in the background, people talking. The automatic doors opening and closing. It felt strangely intimate. Like being invited into a moment he wasn't supposed to be part of.

Before he knew it, the recording had ended and he found himself smiling Then replaying the first few seconds just to hear it again.

Robby:

Red bull absolutely counts as water

You:

you're part of the problem

-

A few days later you sent him a photo of a coffee shop you'd stumbled into before work. The picture was supposed to be of the ridiculous chalkboard menu, pretentious and completely overpriced.

Unfortunately, the reflection in the window caught most of your face and you didn't even notice before pressing send.

But Robby did.

He was halfway through replying when he stopped and stared at the photo. Then stared a little longer.

It wasn't as though he'd forgotten what you looked like, he'd worked beside you for months, seen you almost every day and yet somehow seeing your face appear unexpectedly on his screen felt different. Like it was more personal than bumping into you across an ER.

He zoomed in without meaning to then immediately felt ridiculous.

Robby:

That coffee costs more than my first apartment

You:

i knew you'd focus on the important issue

He didn't mention the photo but it stayed open on his screen longer than necessary.

The next Saturday night, you went out with friends.

The three you socialised with maybe once a month, the ones you'd gone out with on your first week at Robby's.

The evening disappeared beneath cocktails, bad music and stories that got funnier with every retelling. By the time you got home, your shoes were in one hand and your keys were in the other.

Your phone buzzed before you'd even made it upstairs.

Robby:

Survived?

You:

barely

my feet are filing formal complaints

Robby:

Worth it?

You:

yeah

free drinks always help

There was a pause before the typing bubbles appeared then they seemed to disappear before appearing once more.

Robby:

Free drinks?

You:

some guy at the bar bought them

either he was being nice or I looked desperately in need of a margarita

Robby stared at the screen. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself reading the message twice.

Some guy.

An entirely normal sentence since people bought drinks for each other every day. It meant absolutely nothing. Yet his thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Robby:

Which was it?

The message sent before he could overthink it and he immediately regretted it. Not because it was inappropriate, just because he sounded interested.

And he wasn't sure why he was interested.

You:

definitely the margarita

he started talking about crypto ten minutes in

That pulled a laugh out of him. An actual laugh.

Robby:

My condolences

You:

thank you

it was a difficult time

The conversation moved on after that. But later, after you'd gone to sleep and the cabin had settled into silence around him, Robby found himself thinking about the message again.

Not the drinks. Not the guy. But the fact that he'd wanted to know. And the fact he still wasn't entirely sure why.

-

You hadn't really talked about the house sitting arrangement to anyone at work.

It never seemed relevant and, if you were honest, you quite liked having something that belonged entirely to you. That was until Abbot casually asked how it was going in front of Parker and Shen. Both of them had turned so quickly you would have thought they'd rehearsed it.

John loudly slurped through his straw.

You immediately regretted coming into work.

You'd spent the next five minutes trying to explain that, yes, you were staying at Robby's apartment and no, it wasn't a big deal. At the same time, you were reassuring Abbot that everything was fine and that the place was still standing.

Parker wasn't convinced. She waited until the handover was done and everyone had started drifting away before falling into step beside you as you gathered your things from your locker.

You'd only just pulled your phone out when it buzzed. The smile arrived before you could stop it and Parker saw immediately.

"Message from your boyfriend?"

"Just Robby-”

You stopped and looked up to see her already grinning.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Haha. Very funny."

"I'm just saying," she replied, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "That man hasn't been here for nearly two months and I've heard his name more than I have some of the attendings who actually work here."

You rolled your eyes. Except the comment lingered because you didn't talk about him that much. Did you?

Sure, you texted most days, you snapped pictures when something made you laugh. You answered when he called and never made a secret of it because, in your mind, there was nothing to hide.

But maybe Parker had a point.

You were always quick to tell people where he was, what he'd been up to, what ridiculous thing he'd sent you that morning. You were also one of maybe three people who actually knew how his sabbatical was going and that felt strangely significant when you stopped to think about it.

Which was exactly why you decided not to think about it. Instead, you bumped your shoulder into Parker's arm.

"Leave me alone."

"Never."

You laughed despite yourself, waved goodbye to everyone and headed out through the main doors.

-

Even without a department full of doctors reminding him, Robby found himself thinking about you more often than he probably should.

Alberta was beautiful, exactly what he'd imagined.

The mountains seemed endless, the lakes impossibly clear and every evening the sky stretched so wide it barely looked real.

He'd come here to breathe. To remember what it felt like to wake up without immediately carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For the first time in years, it was working and yet every time he stumbled across a view that took his breath away, he caught himself reaching for his phone.

The bear he'd spotted at the edge of a trail or the river he'd nearly slipped into while trying to take a photo. The sunset that turned the entire lake gold. All of it was filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. Something to show you, to tell you later.

He enjoyed those moments for himself, he really did, but there was always a second thought afterwards. A quiet one of she'd like this.

And that was dangerous territory for a man who had left Pittsburgh specifically to be alone.

-

Today had been a bad day for absolutely no reason. Work hadn't been worse than usual. There was no mass casualty or outbreak, no disaster waiting for you.

You'd left almost on time and the handover had been unusually smooth yet, somehow, by the time you found yourself curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine balanced on your knee, you felt like you might burst into tears.

You probably wouldn't but it was comforting to know you could if you wanted to.

The apartment was quiet. A CD hummed softly in the background while the evening light spilled through the windows. You'd been enjoying the solitude for weeks now.

Your phone lit up. A text from Robby. It was just a small update about his day, a picture of a lake with a note underneath telling you there was a viewpoint about a mile from the cabin that you would absolutely love.

You stared at it for a second and then pressed call without thinking.

The phone rang twice.

"Hey, you okay?" He'd answered immediately.

Not because he'd been expecting the call but quite the opposite.

You almost smiled at the concern in his voice.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Can you talk?"

On the other side of the continent, Robby was sitting on the cabin porch with a beer bottle in hand, watching the sky darken over the mountains.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I can talk."

You exhaled. You weren't entirely sure why. Just hearing his voice had already made something feel lighter.

"Bad day?" he asked gently.

"A little."

"Want to talk about it?"

You considered it.

"Not really."

He laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

You took a sip of wine.

"Does it sound stupid if I say I just wanted to hear your voice?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

For a moment, all you could hear was the wind moving through the trees on his end of the line. Then Robby shifted in his chair.

"Well," he said, amusement colouring his voice, "I sure feel special."

You groaned. "Don't make it weird.”

"I'm not making it weird."

"You absolutely are."

His laugh settled something warm in your chest.

"I can tell you about the bear I saw today if you need a distraction."

You smiled. "Yes please."

And he did. He told you about the trail, about spotting movement through the trees and realising it was considerably larger than he'd first thought. Halfway through the story your phone buzzed with a picture he'd sent while still talking.

You put him on speaker to zoom in, immediately informing him that he was insane for getting that close. He disagreed.

You told him he was objectively wrong then somehow you were refilling your wine while he wandered into the kitchen for another beer and the conversation simply kept going.

Hours slipped past unnoticed. The topics changed every few minutes. Canadian wildlife became grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping became work which became Dana. Dana became the night you'd gone out with your friends. It felt effortless.

Like no matter what either of you said, the other would find it interesting, as if there were no rush to end the conversation.

Eventually, somewhere between your third glass and his third beer, Robby circled back to something you'd almost forgotten.

"So," he said casually. "Any more plans to go out and let random men buy you drinks?"

You scoffed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds suspiciously like jealousy, Michael."

Using his first name felt deliberate. The kind of thing you couldn't take back once it left your mouth.

For a moment he didn't answer and you could almost hear him thinking.

"I think I'm just curious."

"Curious?"

"You mentioned him." His voice was careful now. "And then I spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering whether you actually liked him."

Your stomach flipped unexpectedly.

"And did you come to a conclusion?"

He laughed quietly. "Yeah."

"Which was?"

"That anyone who talks about crypto for ten minutes straight probably doesn't stand a chance."

The warmth that spread through you had nothing to do with the wine. You sank further into the sofa, smiling into your glass.

"Good answer."

For a second neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, like an awareness blooming.

On the other end of the line, Robby stared out across the darkening lake, suddenly very conscious of the weight in his chest and the dryness in his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure when the conversation had become the best part of his day.

He was even less sure what that meant.

On your end, the wine bottle was looking considerably emptier than when the call had started.

"How much longer have you got out there anyway?" you asked eventually.

He leaned back in his chair.

"Couple more weeks."

You hummed. "A couple?"

"Three."

You did the maths automatically. Three weeks. For some reason that felt shorter than it should have.

"That's weird."

"What is?"

"You coming back."

Robby laughed softly. “I haven't left forever."

"I know."

You picked absentmindedly at the label on your wine bottle.

"Still weird though."

He understood exactly what you meant. The cabin had become normal, so had the mountains. Waking up and sending you a picture of whatever he'd found that day had become normal too.

The thought settled uncomfortably somewhere in his chest.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "It is."

For a moment neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward, if anything, it felt too honest.

"You'll probably be sick of Pittsburgh again within forty-eight hours."

He laughed.

"Probably."

"And I'll have to move back into my shoebox apartment."

He laughed again.

"You laugh, but I've become accustomed to luxury."

"My apartment is not luxury."

"It has an en-suite."

"It does."

You smiled into your glass.

"I'm gonna miss it."

The words came out before you really thought about them and then, after a beat, you added, "The apartment, I mean."

Robby looked out across the lake. The moonlight stretched across the water in silver streaks. He wasn't entirely sure why that qualifier felt necessary.

"Yeah."

Because he was going to miss something too, he just wasn't sure it was the apartment.

"I'm glad I gave you the keys."

The words slipped out naturally.

"Because I've been such an excellent tenant?"

"Questionable."

You laughed. "Rude."

"You locked yourself out and you don't use coasters."

"That happened one time. And yes I do."

"One time that I know about. And, no you don't."

You shook your head, laughing. "So why are you glad?"

The question hung there. For the first time that evening, Robby didn't answer immediately. He could have made a joke and he probably should have but instead he found himself telling the truth.

"Because otherwise…" He trailed off and you waited. "Otherwise I don't think we'd have ever talked like this."

Something in your chest tightened, just enough to make you still. The sounds around you seemed to disappear for a second. The music, hum of the refrigerator, everything.

"Yeah."

It came out quieter than you'd intended. Because he was right.

Without the apartment, he would've stayed your attending, you his resident. You would've chatted during shifts and maybe grabbed a beer with a group after work once or twice.

But this? The hours spent on the phone, the daily messages, knowing what the other person had for dinner. Sharing parts of yourselves that had nothing to do with medicine.

None of that would've happened.

"I guess not."

Robby stared down at the bottle in his hand. His pulse felt oddly loud.

"Would've been a shame."

The words were barely above a murmur. Honest enough that neither of you quite knew what to do with them. You swallowed. Suddenly very aware of the warmth spreading through your stomach.

And not because of the wine.

Another silence settled between you but this one felt different. It felt full. Like there was something sitting quietly between the two of you that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had and neither of you had looked directly at it until now.

"Yeah," you said softly. "It would've."

For a second, neither of you spoke, neither of you hung up either.

Somewhere between Alberta and Pittsburgh, with a lake outside one window and city lights outside the other, it felt like the conversation had shifted onto unfamiliar ground.

Not enough to turn back yet not enough to move forward. Just enough that both of you knew something had changed.

-

The next morning arrived with a headache.

Not a catastrophic one, just enough of one to remind you that two glasses of wine had somehow become four and how you clearly couldn't handle your booze anymore.

Thank god it was your day off. You'd spent most of the morning moving slowly, making a trip to the store for supplies before returning to the apartment with a bag full of groceries, painkillers and absolutely no intention of leaving the house again.

After a shower, you pulled on an oversized t-shirt, climbed into bed and put something mindless on the TV. You weren't really watching it. Your attention kept drifting back to your phone. In between doom scrolling TikTok, you kept flipping to your messages.

Nothing from Robby.

You told yourself it was normal since he was a couple of hours behind. He could still be asleep or hiking, he could be doing literally anything.

Still, your thumb hovered over the conversation and you found yourself thinking through parts of last night's call. Especially the end.

Would've been a shame.

You groaned and tossed the phone onto the bed beside you. "Get a grip."

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

You grabbed it so fast it was actually embarrassing.

Robby:

Morning

You:

afternoon actually

Robby:

Right

How's the hangover?

You:

presumptuous much?

Robby:

I'll take that as confirmation

You:

i’ve survived worse

Robby:

Doctor approved medical assessment

You:

exactly

The conversation stayed comfortably familiar at first. Small things, nothing important. What he'd done that morning and what you were doing now. The weather in Canada versus Pittsburgh. The coffee he'd burnt.

You laughed quietly at something he'd sent and snapped a quick picture in response.

Mostly intending to show him the disaster of snacks you'd surrounded yourself with on the bed.

You hit send before really looking at it.

A few moments passed, longer than usual. You frowned.

You:

???

The typing bubbles appeared.

Robby:

You know you're in that photo right?

You opened the image again. Your stomach immediately dropped.

Between the blankets and the snacks was a very obvious stretch of bare leg disappearing beneath the hem of your t-shirt. If you zoomed you could definitely see the edge of lace from your panties.

Heat crept into your cheeks.

You:

well

too late now

His reply took a little longer this time.

Robby:

Suppose it is

Something about the message felt different though you couldn't have explained why.

The conversation slowed. Not because either of you wanted it to end but because both of you seemed suddenly aware of it. Aware of each other.

You:

you're being weird

Robby:

I am not

You:

you absolutely are

Robby:

And what if I'm just thinking?

You:

dangerous

Robby:

That's rich coming from you

You laughed and the tension eased for a moment then returned just as quickly. The phone sat warm in your hand. Neither of you quite saying what was on your mind.

Both of you hovering suspiciously close to it.

Then-

A knock sounded at the apartment door. You sat upright.

"Oh for god's sake."

You:

one sec

Robby:

What?

You:

someones here

terrible timing honestly

Robby:

That sounds ominous

You:

don't go anywhere

Robby:

Wasn't planning on it

You tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the door.

When you pulled it open, Abbot stood on the other side with two coffees in hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Jack?"

"Good afternoon."

You stared. He stared back.

"Why are you here?"

"Robby asked me to check the place hadn't burned down."

You folded your arms.

"And?"

Jack looked past you.

"Still standing."

By the time Abbot eventually left, the afternoon had slipped away with him. He'd actually brought you coffee because he was passing by, knew Robby cared about you and wanted to check in. Sweet actually.

Your conversation with Robby had fizzled into a couple of harmless messages before disappearing entirely which somehow felt worse. Because now you were thinking about it and judging by the phone call that arrived later that evening, so was he.

You answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"I can't believe you left me hanging like that."

You laughed immediately. "Excuse me?"

"We were having a conversation."

"Jack showed up at your apartment."

"And somehow that's my fault?"

"Everything's your fault."

His laugh crackled through the speaker.

"You know," he said, quieter this time, "I did actually spend the next few hours wondering what happened."

Your heart stumbled slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause. Comfortable but dangerous.

"Well," you said, settling deeper into the sofa. "Lucky for you, I'm free now."

The silence on the other end lasted just long enough to make your stomach flip. Then Robby laughed softly.

"Good."

The word settled somewhere low and God you hated that it did. Or maybe you loved it. Either way, you found yourself smiling into the darkness of the apartment.

"You sound very pleased with yourself."

"I am."

You laughed softly.

"Because I answered the phone?"

"Because I was beginning to think Abbot had kidnapped you."

"Trust me, if he'd kidnapped me, you'd know about it."

You eased into conversation again, tucking yourself deeper beneath the blanket, listening to him talk about a trail he'd found that morning. He was halfway through describing some impossible view over a lake when he suddenly stopped.

"Can I ask you something?"

You frowned. "Depends."

"That picture earlier."

Your pulse immediately betrayed you. "What about it?"

There was a pause. "Nothing."

You laughed. "That's not how questions work."

"I know."

"So?"

Another pause. You could practically hear him weighing his words.

"I just didn't realise you'd sent it like that."

Heat crept up your neck.

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Unfortunately, you did.

The worst part was how carefully he was speaking. How neither of you was actually saying anything and yet somehow both of you knew exactly what the other was talking about.

"It was an accident."

"I figured."

"You sound disappointed at that."

The silence that followed lasted a fraction too long. Your breath caught, just slightly. Then Robby laughed low and quiet.

"That's a dangerous thing to accuse me of."

You stared at the ceiling. Very aware of the oversized t-shirt you were still wearing and how your nipples were suddenly hard beneath it.

"I think you've become a lot more confident since Alberta."

"Oh yeah? Is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"No, it's kinda sexy actually." You laughed, so did he. Then a second passed and you felt the boldness creep in, so much so it decided your next move. "Do you want me to send another?"

You could practically hear Robby choke on his own breath and in the time he tried to get on top of his words, you'd pulled the blanket away, your phone up high with the front camera on, snapping a pic that showed a lot more than the last.

This time it was the bottom of your face, lips plump and pouty, your t-shirt tugged 'innocently' higher to give way to the band of your panties flashed across your hip. Your legs were crossed, not for the picture but to try and ease the now insatiable ache between them. As for your nipples? There was no denying they were the star of the show.

You sent it before thinking twice.

"Fuck." Robby breathed and you knew he was looking right at you.

"Is that better?"

You heard him take a deep breath and could imagine the blush on his cheeks. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You couldn't help but smile. His voice had gotten lower, a little huskier, almost like he was out of breath.

"Robby?"

"Yeah?" He breathed.

"What are we doing?"

He took a minute to answer. Not sure of what he should say, what he wanted to say. "I don't know." You couldn't see but he rubbed his face over his hand, coming to rest at the base of his neck. "I don't fucking know."

He was sat on the sofa at the cabin. The fire was going, lights dim and warm. Ever since you'd sent that first picture he'd been tight against his jeans but then you sent another and fuck, his hand came to adjust himself over the denim.

"But I'm not sure I can pretend I'm thinking of anything other than that picture right now."

You felt a little smug. That was, after all, why you sent it. It was so nice to feel sexy, for someone to be looking at you the way he was, someone you wanted to see you this way.

"Yeah? What you thinking about?" You knew what you were doing. Knew how it would draw the last breath out of him but you also knew you'd crossed a line and there was no going back. Not that you wanted to.

Your hands trailed over yourself, light touches over the cotton of your t-shirt. Your body jolted when finger tips ghosted the outline of a nipple, trailing left to pay the other as much attention. Fuck, it felt good.

Robby knew the pair of you were in dangerous territory but god, he wanted to be there. His head fell back in disbelief, as if he were mad at himself for what he was about to tell you over the phone.

His resident.

"You touching yourself in my apartment." He paused, waiting to see if he'd taken it too far only to hear a quiet moan from you in response. "Playing with yourself in the guest bedroom..."

"I am." Your hand snaked from your tits slowly to your panties, cupping yourself over the lace and that's when you felt it. "Fuck Robby I'm really wet…”

Jesus Christ. He felt himself jolt against his own hand, the one that was palming the growing outline of his cock.

"Fuck, baby. You're really trying to kill me huh?" He huffed a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief that this was happening. Almost three months of texts, phone calls, voice notes. A camera roll shared, bad days eased by mindless humour and companionship. A relationship built on all of that.

"You want me to go to your bed?" You almost panted down the line as you moved against your hand. "Fuck myself in your sheets?"

"Shit," He exhaled.

"You want that?"

"Yeah…" His reply was too fast and he cursed himself for it. But all he wanted was the image of you, two fingers deep, coming to his voice while soaking his bed spread. "Please baby, do it for me."

And with that, you got up. He heard rustling down the line as you made your way from the guest bed to Robby's. It wasn't a room you'd gone in much. You'd said you were going to snoop through his drawers, his closet just to be nosy but turns out you had too much respect for his privacy. That was months ago. Now you were crawling onto the bed, setting your phone on speaker next to you as you positioned yourself right in the middle.

Robby was waiting patiently. He'd done no more than rub himself a few times over his jeans, grinding a little into his hand but then knowing it'd be too much and he'd end up blowing his load like a teenager. Instead, he waited. For you. To enjoy you.

You laid your head back against his pillows, inhaling him as if he were right next to you. "Mmm, smells like you in here." You said quietly. "It's like you're here."

He wished he was there. You did too. Wished it was his fingers swiping through your wetness, dipping into your panties and feeling how worked up you'd got from sending him one (not even) dirty photo.

"Tell me what you're doing." It felt like an order even though it wasn't and your pussy jumped at the idea. "Wanna hear you."

"Fuck. 'M rubbing myself over my panties." You whispered lightly. "Wanna take them off."

"Take them off baby." He'd hoped you'd throw them to the side and forget, only for him to find them on his return. "Spread your legs, let me hear."

It'd be hard for him not to hear with how soaked you were.

It was amazing how one phone conversation and suddenly this is how you found yourself, legs open for Michael Robinavitch.

With your panties gone, you anchored your legs apart. Fingers sliding through your dripping slit, gathering your arousal to swirl it in tight circles around your clit. The slick sounds filled the room, they filled the cabin too.

Robby couldn't take it anymore. You heard the sound of metal, a belt unbuckling before a zip slid down in haste. He freed himself, pulling his cock from his boxers, thick and hard. He was leaking from the tip, all red and worked up just from listening to you. It felt so fucking good when he finally stroked himself.

"Oh fuck." He tried to bite it back, failing miserably.

That was music to your ears.

"You hard for me Robby?"

"You have no idea. Feels so fuckin good, thinking about you." He fucked his fist nice and slow, wanting this to last and despite his cock not being inside you, he wanted you to cum first.

You decide it wasn't enough. After all this time, the calls and the pictures, you needed to see him. And you wanted him to see you.

"Wanna see you." You picked up your phone, hand still working your pussy. "Can I face- face time you?" Your words faltered a little as your fingers sped up, rubbing your sensitive clit.

Robby froze for a second. He'd got this worked up just by thinking of you in such a state and now, you were actually going to show him?

"Mhmm, yeah."

And within a second you'd pressed the button the change this to a video call. When he accepted, he saw the dark room lit by a single bedside lamp. You'd slowed your motions for a second, to pick up the phone properly and see him for the first time in months.

"Hey." You smiled, like it didn't matter what the pair of you had been doing just seconds ago. You were so happy to see his face. The slight tan he'd caught, his greyed out beard and stubble around the neck.

"Hey." He couldn't help but smile too. Knowing your hands were down your pants but not being able to get past the heat in your cheeks, how your hair had fallen across the bed and despite stating you had a hangover, you were fucking glowing.

He pondered it for a second, how he might have not noticed this before. The way your eyes narrowed when you smiled, how you looked at him.

"You look beautiful."

That might have turned you on more than anything in the last fifteen minutes. You were breathless, a little wrecked, in disbelief at any of this.

Then you set the phone down on the bedside table to free up your hands. That's when you pulled off the t-shirt entirely, leaving your perfect tits in plain view for Robby to see.

His eyes grew wide as he surveyed every inch of your skin before you laid back into the cushions as you were before, shifting to your side facing the phone.

"Is this what you were thinking about?" You snaked your hand back down to your cunt, dipping in but not all the way, just enough for Robby to hear the slick mess.

"Even better." His hand slowly started to work on himself again, matching your rhythm as he held the phone in front of him.

Your mouth parted when you finally sank a finger inside, then another. Two digits curled deep in your pussy, rolling your hips against them and you never took your eyes off him.

"Fuck Robby." You sped your motions a little, so did he. "Wish it was your fingers, wish it was you inside me."

You weren't sure where it came from. The filthy tongue, the boldness. You weren't shy in bed but he was your boss. The boss you were innocently house sitting for until you decided to get attached.

"Christ." He bit back a moan at your obscenity. "Imagine it's me baby." He started fucking his fist faster, wishing it was your pussy. "Imagine it's my cock deep inside you, I'd fuck you so good, make you feel so fucking good."

It dropped from his tongue with little effort. He thought about how much he wanted to be buried inside you, how he'd wanted that for a while and was too scared to admit it.

"Mmmph Robbyyyy." You whined his name, breathing hard, riding your fingers as you felt the coil tighten in your belly. "Let me see you."

He did the same as you, positioning the phone on the side table that sat at the same height as the sofa. It left him in view from the waist up, free hand roaming his covered chest, the other pumping his cock hard.

You watched him intently. Heard the sounds of precum slickening his strokes as his hips drove up with every beat.

"Fuck I'm close-” You worked yourself with both hands, two buried to the knuckle and the other rubbing your clit with such ferocity. "Really fucking close Robby I think I'm gonna cum soon."

"Cum for me angel, let me see. Such a good girl."

Your hands worked even faster and suddenly, the coil snapped with words of praise and you were coming in Robby's bed.

"Oh my god oh my-” Then silence, your body went rigid as you clamped your hands hard, riding out the most intense orgasm you'd had in years.

You were a sight for sore eyes. Mouth wide open, tits bouncing with every movement and all it took was your guttoral moans for Robby to feel himself close to the edge too. He was fucking himself so hard and fast, it was almost a blur on screen until you heard him pant, a strangled "Uh uh uh" and then-

"I'm gonna cum baby oh fuck-”

You watched him spill his load all over his hand. Thick white ropes dripped down his knuckles, marking his jeans as he stroked himself through it, twitching at his now very sensitive cockhead.

You were both left breathless and sweaty, each reaching for your respective phones.

"You-” He was trying so hard to catch his breath. "-are something else."

You both laughed breathlessly. Fuck, this felt good.

You stayed on the phone for hours after until he ordered you to bed. Told you to sleep well, that he'd be thinking of you.

And that night was the best sleep of your life.

-

Everything felt different after that night except it also all stayed the same.

You spoke every day. Called most nights, FaceTimed, voice noted when you were cooking dinner or carrying groceries. But now it seemed like nothing was left unsaid, that you were both being honest with each other. It was amazing.

The only thing eating away at you right before you fell asleep was the idea this might end. When the three weeks crept closer, when the sabbatical would end. Would everything go back to how it was before?

"Hey can I ask you something?" You broke mid conversation.

"Anything."

"When this is over. Your sabbatical I mean. When you come back and I'm not here." You trailed off slightly. "...Will this all go away?"

There was silence on the line for a second.

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

Your smile reached your ears. Good because-” You inhaled deeply. "I don't think I can go back."

-

You worked like a dog over the next four days.

At one point you'd even picked up a double because Lena had practically begged for night shift cover, and despite every intention of saying no, somehow you'd found yourself agreeing anyway.

It meant you barely saw daylight all week and you didn't get to speak to Robby much either. Not in the way either of you would've liked.

You checked in between shifts, during breaks and whenever you made it home with enough energy to keep your eyes open. He'd send the occasional text during the day, but most of your conversations happened at night. Sometimes a quick call, sometimes longer if exhaustion didn't drag you under first.

It was a brutal four days. By the end of it you were running almost entirely on caffeine and stubbornness, convinced you'd briefly developed double vision somewhere around shift three.

When you finally crawled into bed at the end of it all, you slept hard.

Since your FaceTime call, you hadn't stepped foot in the guest room. Every night you ended up in Robby's bed instead, tangled in his sheets and surrounded by things that smelled faintly like him.

He loved knowing that.

Day five arrived with something close to actual rest. You woke around nine and, for the first time all week, didn't feel like death.

After a shower you made coffee, pulled on some loungewear that wasn't technically pyjamas and settled onto the sofa with every intention of finally finishing the book you'd started at the beginning of all this.

You'd texted Robby before getting in the shower. There was still no reply. You assumed he was asleep or hiking or somewhere without signal. Either way, you weren't worried.

Twenty-five minutes later there was a knock at the door. You sighed immediately.

It had to be Jack.

Apparently nobody trusted you to spend three months in an apartment unsupervised.

Already preparing your speech, you marched towards the door and pulled it open.

The words died in your throat.

"Robby."

For a second your brain simply stopped working. Because Robby was supposed to be in Canada. Robby was supposed to be another two thousand miles away. Robby was supposed to be a voice coming through your phone speaker. Not standing in front of you.

"Hey."

His smile spread slowly across his face, tired and genuine all at once. His cheeks were pink from the road and his eyes looked glassy around the edges, like he'd spent too many hours behind the handlebars and not nearly enough sleeping.

You stared. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed softly. "Good to see you too."

"No, seriously." You gestured vaguely at him and the doorway. What are you doing here? You were in Canada. That's like-" Your brain searched desperately for a number. "It's like five thousand miles."

"Not quite."

"Robby-”

He kissed you.

Just stepped across the threshold and kissed you.

His hands came up to cup your face as he guided you backwards into the apartment, the front door swinging shut somewhere behind him.

Every thought disappeared. All the questions and confusion, gone.

Because he was here, after months of messages and phone calls and hearing his voice through a screen, he was finally here. The last four days worked in his favour, you being so busy. He'd hit the road almost immediately, covering far too much mileage to be considered safe. All to make it back to you.

You kissed him back immediately, both hungry and relieved. Like you were making up for every mile that had sat between Alberta and Pittsburgh.

When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to look at you, forehead resting against yours.

"Two and a half thousand miles," he corrected quietly.

You laughed.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

"You know," you murmured, fingers still wrapped around his wrists, "this is a very dramatic way to get your keys back."

Robby laughed, the sound warm and familiar.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His thumbs swept across your cheeks.

“Good thing I never came back for the keys”

Your heart squeezed.

Peace. That's what this getaway was about, taking you somewhere the two of you could live as a young couple, un-disturbed. It was about the only thing that had gotten Robby through the last tough weeks of work. All the blood and death and bathroom breaks of locking himself in stools to silently cry was all so he could come home to you and his family in one piece.

Now, he could shred every responsibility that didn't include being your husband and that wasn't a responsibility. More an honour.

Robby looked down at you with a smile, expecting to see one back. Instead, you were looking down at your phone. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

“I'm just checking in with the kids.”

He groaned and grabbed your phone, throwing it ahead into the cabin. It landed somewhere soft on the rug. “They'll be fine, they're what? Twenty something?”

You laughed and stepped closer into his circle of heat, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and drawing yourself closer. “Look at you, pretending not to know your kids ages.”

Robby dropped the bags, snapping his arms around your waist and holding you up. “What can I say? I'm loving... attentive...”

His beard scratched up and down your neck as he littered slow kisses there.

“Should I carry you through the doorway? Like when we were married?” Robby wasn't exactly encouraged by the idea with your laughter shaking in your chest.

“I don't think your back can handle that, old man.”

His brows rose up, tongue poking the inside of his cheek and you bit back a smirk. He couldn't help but think how sexy you looked, even after kids and marriage you never failed to stop looking beautiful.

And Robby had never found being called old sexier.

“Well,” he grunted, lifting you further till your toes were scraping the floor. “How about you go up to that bedroom and I show you just what this old man can do?”

“Dad's gonna kill me... Dad's gonna kill me.”

Noah watched his brother, John, pace the small hospital room. For such a tiny pace he was making good job at trekking miles. “Relax, at least we're in a hospital,” he said. “That way they can shock you back to life.”

“So he can kill me all over again!” John hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, the smack bouncing around the walls.

Their sister, Casey, laughed on the bed.

She was taking all this surprisingly well considering it was her arm broken and limply lying in her lap.

The brothers looked to her as if remembering she was there. Like she wasn't the reason they were there. Well- technically it was John's fault. Because he was older and he was supposed to be looking after Casey. He should have been the one watching her on the trampoline. Should have seen how she fell on her arm and a sickening crack followed.

To her credit, Casey didn't cry.

Instead she let out a string of curse words that would make a sailor shudder.

Noah didn't know which is dad would hate more: the cast she'll inevitably be put in or the words she'd some how picked up.

“How're you feeling?” John asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hungry,” she said, pulling out the puppy dog eyes and pout that only a six year old could do effectively.

“Can't eat I'm afraid, not till we've got that arm looked at.”

“Will I need stitches?”

Noah let out one loud, ha! “Worse!”

Casey shrieked.

“Noah!” John lectured.

“What? I'm being honest! Honestly is the best policy.”

“Not when it scares her!”

“I'm not scared,” said Casey, momentarily misplacing her broken arm as she tried to flail them around only to end up teary eyed at the pain.

John shuffled closer to her side in panic, throwing an arm around her shoulder and comforting her. “It's okay, oh, it's okay.”

“I want daddy!”

John and Noah looked at each other, gulping.

It had been a total of four hours. Four hours they'd been gone and already things had gone wrong! The drive up to their cabin alone was five so they'd maybe only had three hours of relaxation. That was enough, right?

For months their dad had drilled it into them he was taking their mother away for an anniversary he had to work three months ago. This was the only time off together your schedules could work out. After all, PCMT didn't run steady without the attending and nurse.

We'll be gone three days, their dad told them, sitting the two brothers a year apart down. Carter will be busy at Presby so I need you two to look after Casey, alright? John you're eighteen, you're in charge.

Noah had never been happier to be younger.

It was all amusing to him really, besides the fact his sister was hurt- obviously.

“I want daddy too,” Noah laughed.

John paled.

Suddenly the door flew open and just when Noah thought it might have been a doctor they'd never seen, or Abbot or Dana, it only got worse.

Carter rushed in, white lab coat billowing a second behind him. Their dad thought it was tacky and dumb (med students haven't worn them since the 90s, he'd said) but their mom thought Carter looked handsome so- the doting mommy's boy he was- Carter always wore it.

Noah rolled his eyes.

“Hey, hey, what's going on here?” he rushed over to Casey, pressing a kiss to her forehead and petting down her hair. “You okay? She okay?”

“She's fine,” said John, standing from the bed.

“My arm hurts,” whined Casey.

“I'll give you ten bucks to say nothing,” said John.

Casey made a dramatic move in holding in her words.

John should have done it for five.

Carter looked around the room like he was wholly confused even if he was in his second year of med school in Presby and was accustom to the look of a hospital room. “Where's her chart? Has she been looked at? Has Dana been in?”

“No, I got us in on the down low,” said Noah, standing from his chair.

Carter hovered over the computer, trying to find a way to log in that didn't mean hacking into the system. “The down low?”

John reached his other side. “I bribed Donnie to get us a room.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So they don't call mom and dad!”

“They're not here?” Carter asked, a furrow between his brows.

“No, they're up at the cabin,” said John.

“Their romantic getaway, you remember that?” asked Noah.

Carter's expression dropped. “That was today?”

“Yeah that was today, where have you been living?” said Noah, knowing his brother lived in the second biggest room of the house and had been pretty much vacant from it with his studies. Noah had took to invading the room at any chance.

John rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We called you cause... you know, you're a doctor.”

“Well, no, I'm a med student,” said Carter, though briefly the word 'doctor' had gone to his head. And ego.

“But you're so good at it,” encouraged Noah, thumping their eldest brother on the chest and fixing his crooked stethoscope. “What better time will you have to put your skills to good use then to help our sister?”

The three looked back to Casey who was watching them, blinking.

“How's your pain on a scale of one to ten, Casey? One being no pain at all, ten being horrible, terrible, worst pain of your life?” asked Carter, keeping his voice as light and brotherly as possible.

Casey looked to John.

He sighed. “You can talk, Casey.”

She thought about it for a second. “A seven?”

Carter cursed under his breath.

John and Noah shared a look, knowing who to blame Casey's exclamations on. “You can order labs,” said John.

“Yeah, get her a scan or something,” added Noah.

Carter laughed them off. “I can't, I don't work here!”

John put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Of course you can, you're a Robinavitch.”

“Hey,” said Santos, approaching the nurses station as if in a daze. “I'm like totally not crazy and I totally don't miss the guy or anything but I swear I just saw a younger version of Robby walk in here.”

“What?” Javadi laughed.

Whitaker nodded along, as if he'd expected it. “You must really miss the guy, huh?”

Santos rolled her eyes. “No, Jesus that's not it. I just mean Robby's literal doppelganger just walked in, white lab coat and all.”

Dana didn't make it a habit to listen into gossip... sometimes she couldn't help it. She lingered at the nurses counter, listening with one ear to everything else around her in case there was an actual emergency.

“Really, where?” Javadi asked.

“Hey! You three!” Dana called, snapping her fingers as she approached the three, peering at them over her glasses. “We got beds to empty, people to see, let's move it!”

The three were resigned to do their job, as so many usually were, but Dana watched them go, ensuring they were all going to three separate locations but not before she caught Trinity leaning into Javadi, whispering in her ear an exam room where this mysterious young Robby was hid in.

Dana wondered but not for long as she found the room with not one, not two but four Robinavitch children inside.

A grin formed. It was always good to see them, especially since she'd been seeing them since they were babies, having held each one of them in her arms and held each of their hands as they started to walk. Sometimes they still needed the hand.

Carter, John and Noah's backs were to the door, the three standing over the bed in clear thought if their folded arms and tense backs were anything to go by, so like their father they were.

Casey Robinavitch, the youngest of the set, was first to spot her, smiling wide. “D! D!”

“Well look what the cat dragged in!” she celebrated.

Casey did what she could to move but Dana was there at her side, embracing her and helping her back down onto the bed.

The boys were less enthusaticaly.

“Hey, Dana,” John said quietly.

Carter was by far his father's son in looks. The same sloped nose and brown eyes. Dressed up as a doctor he looked even more the part. It freaked Dana sometimes, like having the ghost of young and cocky Michael Robinavitch hovering around the place.

John and Carter- still alike their father- had a bit more of you in them. In their smile and eyes. Casey too.

“What the hell's going on here, you miss me that much you invaded the place, huh?” she asked though she could tell by all three of the boys looking worried and Casey sitting still that there was some reason to have been here.

“It looks like Casey broke her arm,” said Carter, brushing back his hair. “A simple Distal Radius fracture.”

“You got all that without a scan? Presby must be teaching you something,” she teased.

Carter blushed.

Dana cast her gaze to the quiet John and Noah. “Which one of you supposed to be looking after my girl here anyway?”

They both pointed at each other.

Dana shook her head and rolled her eyes before focusing ahead to Casey. “Okay, honey, you hungry? I keep a stash of candy in my draw, you want a piece?”

She nodded enthusaticaly.

“But she'll need surgery for her arm, she can't eat,” said Carter.

“Even I knew that,” added John.

“Yeah well the OR's a little backed up,” said Dana with a pat to Casey's knee. She stood up and drew the curtain around them, closing them in. “We had an accident and there's a long que.”

She didn't want to get in the specifics of crash that involved all the OR's time but Carter approached her.

“Anything I can do?” he asked.

Dana smiled. She had to say, it was good to see the kids that were made from her favourite attending and nurse. “No, kid. You stay here with your family, I'll handle everything.”

“What's with the curtain?” asked Noah.

“Are we grounded?”

“You're all a bit of a celebrity around here, the new residents and med students don't know you guys exist, heck they only realised your parents were married after Huckleberry caught them in the lounge.”

“Ew,” said John.

“Caught them what?” asked Casey, full of child like innocence.

The boys looked to Dana in amusement.

“Doing things adults shouldn't do at work,” she said.

Casey wasn't satisfied. “Like what?”

“You can ask them when they get here.”

“You're not gonna call them, are you?” asked John, adam's apple moving in his swallow.

“Have to kid, sorry! I'll get Princess to take you to X-ray, sound good?” she asked Casey, knowing Princess was her favourite (other than herself of course) because she was better at braiding than both her parents.

John fell into his seat, hunched over. In comfort, Carter clamped a hand on his shoulder.

Dana left the family, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile. She'd pushed you and Robby to go away, trusting that the three boys you held in such high esteem would handle looking over one small girl who really wasn't that much trouble.

She hated to be proved wrong.

Hated even more she had to interrupt the two of you after she'd had to watch the sultry looks passed between the two of you and stop the two of you from disappearing together into rare empty beds and store rooms.

Dana called you first, shaking her head while she did.

“Robby!”

He groaned into your neck, his arms caging in your head as he moved in and out of you with a rapid pace. Sweat covered both your bodies from the long-awaited sex he planned to drag out. “My god,” he groaned.

Your nails scratched down his back leaving angry welts in your place. He licked lazily at your neck, moaning and groaning at the taste.

The both of you were as loud as you liked, without kids barging in to say they couldn't find the remote or wanting to know what was for dinner. The cabin stood alone with only trees as its companion so you could be as loud as you liked.

He'd had you coming on his mouth and fingers- then once more for luck- before he finally found himself home in you and that was how it felt, coming home.

Your back arched into him as his hips met yours. “Michael... Michael...”

You could feel him grin into your neck. “Gonna come again? Come on my cock, jus how I like.”

Robby found your lips and kissed you openly, all teeth and tongue. His breathing was laboured, his lips a hungry mess. His hips drove in more and more, his groaning louder, face scrunched in concentration to last.

“Please, Michael, please,” you whined against his lips.

Robby licked at your lips, nodding-

Suddenly there was a loud ringing and vibration against the wood off the bedside table where you'd left your phone.

Robby groaned but not in pleasure. As his lips pulled away from yours you turned to look at your phone. “Ignore it, ignore it,” he begged, cupping your cheek to move you to look at him again.

You let him kiss you, let him distract you with his tongue as he drove his cock in and out quicker, desperate to chase your high.

“Oh god, hurgh, fuck!”

Your phone still rung and his grip hardened on your face.

“Could be... could be the kids...” you uttered.

“They're fine, they're fine-”

But you couldn't help but stretch, under the feign of pleasure you arched up and grabbed your phone, turning it face up.

“Jesus-” Robby grunted but stilled inside of you, impossibly close.

Hospital. Work. Calling.

“Jesus-” he chuckled dryly. “Hasn't even been a day.”

Before you could even think about answering it Robby snatched it from your hand and threw it half way across the room.

“Robby!” you laughed.

Your arms wrapped back around him and drew him in, legs going around his waist as his cock continued his work.

“Jack, thank god!” Dana gasped when she spotted the night attending making his way in. He greeted her with a bag already over his shoulder, giving her a brief hug.

“Hey, got your message, what's going on?” he asked, brows knitted together in worry.

It was a last ditch attempt. Dana had called you a handful of times from the hospital phone and her own. She'd tried Robby and been sent straight to voice mail. Nothing. She couldn't exactly blame the two of you, it was supposed to be a holiday.

None of the kids were willing to be the one to make the call and other than tackle them to get a phone Jack was the last result.

“Got a family situation, the parents won't pick up,” she explained.

“What kind of family-”

Dana led him into the exam room.

Casey was sitting in the bed, her arm up in a sling with a pizza box in her lap. Next to her Noah was cosied on the bed while John and Carter were on each side of the bed, chairs pulled him and pizza slices in hands.

“Uncle Jack!” Casey cheered.

The boys at least looked happier to see him than they had Dana. They knew if Jack was here it meant they couldn't get in contact with either you or their dead.

“What's this? A pizza party and I wasn't invited?” he said, setting down his bag and heading for Casey, checking in on her first.

“What's this? Where's the pizza come from?” asked Dana.

“They were hungry, I ordered,” said Carter.

“And surgery for her arm?”

Carter chocked down the last of his pizza. His doctors coat was still sat on his shoulders but his tie was lose around his neck and several pens were missing from his pocket. “The OR's backed up, you said that, you gave her a lollipop!”

Dana tried her best efforts to be mad on behalf of Robby but it didn't work. Robby could maybe be mad at the boys if he had the right too but Casey he could never seem find to be angry with. A daddy's girl through and through.

“Hey, Carter, how's Presby?” asked Jack, all the while testing the pain with Casey.

“Good, it's er, it's good,” he said. “I told them there was a family emergency.”

There was only one reason Carter had gone to Presby and that was to keep work and home away from each other. He couldn't be a student under his dad and mom.

“So you er-” Noah started. “Couldn't get through to mom or dad, huh?”

There was an un-denying gleam of joy at that.

“No, we couldn't,” said Dana. “But we're gonna keep trying.”

Carter crossed his arms over his chest as if he were the concerned doctor and not the worried older brother. “We need their permission for the surgery, what happens to her arm if it's not put right soon?”

“Well good news is I can pull weight in the OR, though we'll have to wait for the pizza to go down,” said Jack, taking a bite from the slice Casey held in hand. She laughed. “What colour we thinking? Pink? Red? Black?”

“Can I have three colours?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “I'll put the request in.”

“Why aren't they answering? Maybe they're asleep?” said John.

Noah smirked. “Or maybe they're enjoying their free time.”

Jack shot him an unamused look.

“I meant playing games!” he defended.

“Like twister?” asked Casey.

Carter looked away, scratching the back of his head as Dana hid her smirk along with him.

“Yeah, twister.”

You'd managed to escape the clutch's of Robby, managing to throw his shirt on and get to the kitchen for a glass of water. Your legs had been shaky in the sort of delicious way you'd missed.

It was dark out, the small orange glow of the lights around the cabin lighting your way as you downed half your drink.

The wooden floor creaked behind you. The curve of Robby's belly met your back.

His hands wound under his shirt on your body, fondling your hips. “I thought the point of a get away was no clothes allowed.”

You bit your lip, gently setting down your glass of water. “And if I turn around are you going to be following that rule?”

Robby chuckled into your skin. His lips found your neck again, kissing over the bruises he'd left from before. It started slow, the sort that reminded you of your first time before his teeth met your skin and nipped. His hands got further up your skin, running over the curves of your body. “Why don't you look and find out?”

The idea of Robby in all his beauty had you salivating at the mouth and lower parts when a vibration alerted the two of you.

Robby groaned again, the both of you finding his phone left in his pants pocket crumpled on the floor.

It seemed you'd been in a hurry to get them off.

“The thing keeps going!”

Robby was naked, and it distracted you all through the walk to get his pants, fishing for his phone. Not that he cared, he only finished your glass of water.

Your hormones were going crazy, begging you to climb your husband like a tree but you still managed to answer the phone. “Michael's phone.”

“Jesus what's it take to get you to pick up a phone!” Dana said in a way of greeting.

“Oh, hi Dana, how are you? Sorry, we were... busy.”

“Yeah busy my ass, listen you guys need to come back.”

“Why, what's happening?”

Robby heard the worry in your voice and turned to look over his shoulder.

“Your kids are here, Casey's hurt.”

“So let me get this straight: You're letting Jack sign your cast first, then Carter, then John, then me!” gasped Noah.

The family had made themselves at home at in the small room, Casey in the bed like the queen of the castle though even queens needed sleep.

Carter was watching his sister come in and out of sleep while John stayed close to her side, stroking back her hair. They'd put her in the list for the OR, it was backed up enough that by the time she got in her eating wouldn't have been a problem. In three more hours he'd have to get back to Presby and carry on a shift. He should've used the time for napping but found the hospital chairs not so comfy.

Casey nodded, as if proud.

“It's John's fault and he gets to sign it before me!”

“He didn't steal my favourite crayons!” she said.

Jack raised his brows at Noah. “Crayons?”

Noah stuttered with all the eyes on him. “I was taking notes.”

“In crayons?” asked Jack.

“Colour helps you retain information! Look it up!”

There was a gang of laughter before the doors burst open.

Robby was first into the scene and you were close behind.

“Dad!” said Casey.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, by-passing everyone else in the room to press a kiss to her forehead, keeping a hand on her fine arm. “What the hell happened?” he asked to the room.

John and Noah fell into your side, trying to be safe there away from the wrath of their father. “She- she was on the trampoline and she fell, broke her wrist.”

“Distal fracture,” corrected Carter.

“Why weren't you looking out for her?” Robby asked as he took Jack's stethoscope from around his neck, pressing it to her chest as if there could be something wrong and as if they hadn't already checked.

“I-I turned my back for a second,” said John.

“It's okay,” you said, stroking back John's air just a little.

You walked past the boys, greeting Carter quickly before you set on the edge of Casey's bed. Your daughter had your eyes. “Hey honey, how are you feeling?”

Robby gave her another kiss on the forehead before stepping away and letting Jack- the closest thing the kids had to an uncle- take his place. There was a small wave of his hand and the boys- even Carter- fell into step. “So tell me why not even five hours into the trip with your mother we're called back in because you let your sister get hurt?”

“He didn't let her get hurt, dad,” Noah defended. “It could've happened whether or not John was watching her.”

Robby's hands ran up and over his face, pulling at the lines of age and worry. Deep down he knew that was true and the boys knew he knew that. It didn't change that Casey had been hurt and ended up in the hospital. If it had been one of them- Carter, John or Noah- Robby and you would have drove with the same speed.

“Okay, okay,” Robby nodded. “And who let her have pizza when she's in line for the OR?”

John and Noah turned to Carter.

Robby frowned. “Are they teaching you anything at Presby?”

“Dana said the OR was backed up!”

“Don't drag me into this kid!” called Dana from the open door and over the crowd that had formed.

On second look Robby spotted Whitaker, Javadi, King and Santos at the door with Samira- all of who knew you and Robby well, knew you had a flirty thing going on yet had no idea the life you'd shared and continued to create behind the scene.

Next to them stood Langdon, the one holding the door open for them all to see. The one that did know and had even played a hand in Casey's birth.

“Holy shit,” said Whitaker.

“You have kids?” asked Javadi. “Like actual, real-life off springs?”

Carter frowned, looking from the crowd to you. “Why do they seem so surprised at that?”

You smiled, leaning your head on Casey's as she babbled about the accident and everyone she wanted to sign her cast (including barbie herself). “Well, we didn't really mention the whole kids part.”

“So nobody knew we existed?” asked Noah, offended. “What happened to pride and joy?”

“What happened to pain in my ass?” said Robby, lovingly. At least, Carter thought it came off that way. “Okay- yes, yes,” he said addressing the crowd. “We have kids, we didn't say anything because well frankly it was none of your buisness-”

“I knew I saw a younger Robby!” said Santos. Her phone was in hand and clicking with the sound of a picture of the room- specifically Carter-before anyone could stop her.

“It's not like I don't have my hands full with you lot already,” Robby mumbled, rubbing at his temples. “But yes, we have four beautiful children, anything else?”

There was a clear of a throat. Surprisingly not from the crowd of doctors but from behind him. From you.

“What?” asked Robby.

You gave him a pointed look.

He'd said four kids. Had he got it wrong? Somewhere along the lines it did get hard to keep track of them all. Who had exams when, who was in line to follow in their footsteps in practising medicine, who wanted a dog for christmas, etc.

Just in case, Robby did a head count, counting his kids off on his fingers: Casey, Noah, John, Carter. Casey, Noah-

It wasn't till he looked at you and saw your hand lingering over your stomach that he realised.

He thought back to the wine you'd declined at dinner last week, to the morning sickness you'd tried to hide from him, to the way you said there were things to talk about when you had a chance alone. After four, Robby should have been good at spotting the signs.

Five children it would appear.

“Congratulations, brother,” Jack was first to say, smiling in amusement that you'd caught your husband so off guard. Again.

John and Noah were next in clapping him on the back before attending to you in the same celebrations.

Robby took it all red in the cheeks as Santos started to clap behind him, Whitaker following un-sure a beat behind her.

“Jesus, dad, can you keep it in your pants for once,” joked Carter, standing at his full height next to him.

Robby shrugged, arms folding over his chest. “Takes two.”

Noah frowned. “Ew.”

Casey, the poor girl with the broken wrist, wasn't sure what was going on. “Takes two to what?”

The room fell silent. You pursed your lips, looking to Robby for some explanation.

Carter patted his dad on the back, slipping out of the room.

John smirked. “Yeah, dad, takes two to what?”

You bore down, pushing. You swore you went deaf for a few seconds until it was time to breathe again. Was it supposed to be this hard? Why wasn’t it just a few pushes, like in the movies? This felt like an eternity.

“There we go, that's right.” 

You felt the baby finally leave your body. But something was wrong. The seconds passed, but no sound. Besides your panting, you didn’t hear a single cry.

“Kyle?” You mumbled, “Kyle what is happening?” he didn’t answer but what you heard was concerning.

“Breathe…Come on, little one, come on, little one,” you heard, his back was to you, but you could hear the panic in his voice. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” He rushed to the table, Price was right behind him.

“Gaz!” Johnny called, his eyes darting between the kitchen and you.

“W-Why isn’t he crying?” your voice was trembling “ A baby cries right?…why is he quiet?” you felt yourself breathing but no air seemed to be enough. 

“Love, look at me” Simon said, turning your face so you looked at him, his forehead pressing against yours. “It’s okay, no matter what, we got you, deep breathes”

“No, no, It’s not!” You shook your head, your throat burning as tears streamed down your face. “I did everything, I was careful, we were so careful,” you sobbed, you turned to Johnny who was holding your hand so tightly it was shaking, his eyes were tightly shut, you had failed them. 

You felt numb, wanted to cry but, this was absurd. The silence, enveloping you, you were freezing cold. 

This was your fault, you did everything right, yet it was still your fault, you brought this upon them, you should have never been here, you could never be this happy ever in this life. You should—

Sharp little shrills echo in the room, Johnny exhaled sharply, turning to you. “Ah… fuckin’ hell,” he breathed out, kissing your hand. You felt a pressure on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” Simon muttered “ Fuck, I’m so sorry,” 

Kyle walked back, grinning despite the tears glossing his eyes. He held the crying baby to his chest, wrapped in the small blanket you had prepared. 

“I told you…It’s a little girl,” he said above a whisper of his own, as if he would break down if he talked any louder. 

Your head fell back, tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed loudly.

He keeling next to you, quickly brushing your tears, you held your hand out. You wanted to hold her. Feel her, see her breathing.

She was handed to you, you held her close, marvelling on her little face. 

“She’s so small,” you whispered. Exhaustion threatening to take over, your lids slowly fluttered fighting the urge to shut them.

“Look at ye, wee hen, jus perfect, arn’t ye?” Johnny cooed. 

“I’m warning you, I’m never doing this again,” Kyle said. You tugged on his shirt, kissing him deeply.

“Thank you” you whispered against his lips. 

“I’m serious, my heart won’t hold out," he chuckled against your cheek before kissing it. 

“Someone needs to go check on the captain though, I think we lost him in there.”

You both chuckled. John finally walked out of the kitchen walking to kneel next to you. “You were bloody perfect” he breathed out, kissing your head.

“There was nothing to worry about” You whispered, drained. 

A day passed. Now, they were all in the bedroom. Johnny was holding her, she let out little coos and melted the man’s heart. He couldn’t get enough. She was so small and so precious. 

You laid resting on Price’s chest, watching them.

“You can put her down, now,” Kyle said, patting the sweat off your forehead. 

“Never” he said smiling faintly “you want to stay in papa soap’s arm forever,” he cooed as he gently rocked her, she yawned, raising her little fist. 

“See?” he said, his voice cracking slightly, trying his best not to glance your way. 

You had gotten paler and were shivering every so often. They knew exactly what was happening. Kyle was frantic, looking for a solution. They had gone scavenging for any type of antibiotics, to no avail.

Putting another wet compress on your forehead made you shiver. 

“I’ll find some today okay” Kyle said, glancing at Price, pulling away. “Well go a bit further out if I have to, w-we should find some, I’ll find something”  

“Wouldn’t it be outside our perimeter, it’s not safe” you said through a shaky breath. “ I’ll be fine” 

“No, You won’t!” Kyle replied “this is not a bloody cough! you—” your hand reached to him he immediately leaned towards it kissing your hand. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong,” he choked “ I don’t know how to fix, I gave you all the meds I have, I don’t know why it’s working, should have be been more careful” 

“You took good care of me, just like you’ll take good care of her,” you muttered. 

“We're focusing on you at the moment,” Price said, brushing your hair. 

“I wish I could hold her” you cried, “I didn’t make her sick did I”

“No, she’s healthy and beautiful,” Kyle kissed your forehead. 

“I swear she has my nose,” Johnny said to you, you let out a breathing laugh. You felt like you kept up, getting more tired. 

“She’s gorgeous then,” you muttered, you felt heavy, then it dawned on you. You didn’t give her a name yet. You’d do it…you just needed to rest just a little while, you’d do it when you woke up. 

~~~~

The sound of impatient whines echoed in the room.

“You’re slooow” 

“I know YN, just a minute okay?” Kyle said softly, wrapping the red bow at the end of the braid.

“Daddy, hurry!” She whined kicking her feet from the high chair.

 “There! all done!” Kyle said. She kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, but you are slow when you braid.” she said in an exaggerated voice.

 She was pulled from behind and lifted up and flipped in the air.

A giggle escaped her. “What an impatient lass, who raised you this way?”

“You did!” She squealed “you never wait when daddy Kyle make cookies” 

“Rascal! Yer callin’ me out?” He said, shaking her playfully, her little head rocking back and forth as her little laugh filled the air.

“But Daddy’s taking so long!” She pouted, 

“Your mommy likes the braids,” Kyle said, putting away the brush. Johnny put her on his side kissing her temple.

“Well let him get ready, love, let’s get some sweets while we wait.” Walking out of the bedroom to the kitchen. 

“Well get scolded again, Simon said I had to not eat too much,”

“Today is special. Daddy will allow it” he said she grinned. She had your exact smile. 

“My precious little girl,” he kissed her head once more. Her dads were always so nice on this day. But they also look so sad, she couldn’t fully understand. But she did her best not to upset them. Daddy Kyle was the worst. He was always strict but on that day it was worse. 

Simon and her other Daddy were already seeing you. She wanted to join them as soon as possible. He wrapped the scarf around her neck and she shifted one foot to the other. 

“What did I say about running?!” Kyle scolded holding her little hand. 

“She’s right, yer the fun police” Johnny joked, following close behind.

“She doesn't know who the police are, I know you taught her that” he retorted. Johnny smile sheeply, 

They reached the little clearing, she beamed as she saw the two other man. 

“Simon!” She squealed, running to him.

“YN!” Kyle called out reaching for her but little feet were fast, a curse and a blessing to them, he rolled his eyes. “This child, is going to kill me!”

She jumped in Simon’s arms  “You didn't eat breakfast today, Si.” 

“I wasn’t hungry,” he rested his head on her little one briefly “don’t be like me alright?”

“Never! Breakfast is sooo important!”

“She eats for a whole regimen” John said, pinching her cheek “we'll be in ruins because of that little thing,” he handed her the flowers almost as big as her head.

“Go on,” he said softly. 

Simon puts her down, brushing the little dress, he just gifted her for her birthday. It was his best work yet. She looked so cute, steps determined and she reached you. 

“Hello mommy” she quipped, “ we brought you flowers.” She said putting them down.

She reached in her pocket pulling out her folded little drawing and putting it in the little box next to your grave.

“For my birthday I got a biiig cake, and my daddies got me coloured pencils, so I made you a pretty picture,” she said. “I hope you like it mommy,” she looked back at the men then back at you “I think they miss you a lot, I miss you too, if you could come back just a day, I think daddies would be very happy,” 

John walked closer lowering himself “Love, I explained why she couldn't, right?” He said a frown formed on her face but she nodded, hugging her little plushy closer to her chest, her favorite toy.

“If you're too tired, it’s okay, rest well mommy, I love you.” She kissed her little fingers and put them on the ground.

She stood up spinning on her heels as she took a quick step, her eyes caught Kyle’s warning ones and she slowed down, casually walking to John taking his hand as if she did nothing wrong. 

“You did good love,” Price said, picking her up. “We’ll leave the others, wanna go play?”

“Tea party!”

“Hmmm, dirt biscuits” he said, she giggled while hugging him.

She rested her head on his shoulder watching your grave going further. She always wondered why you had to rest for so long. Why didn’t you stay? When she asked John told her they were allowed only one blessing and you chose her. She always thought it was odd. As she allowed four.

Masterlist

it was a beautiful townhouse. it was about three stories of brick and black shutters with overflowing flower boxes beneath the windows. it was elegant without being flashy. it was lived-in without looking old.

he'd hummed his acknowledgment and continued walking.

that should have been the end of it.

but it wasn't.

because the next week she pointed it out again.

and the week after that… and the one after.

soon it became part of their routine.

coffee, pastries, the townhouse.

every single saturday morning and every single time they passed it, her pace slowed.

sometimes she'd admire the little balcony on the second floor, or the iron railings, even the huge windows that flooded the interior with sunlight. and other times she would just smile at it quietly before continuing down the block.

jack never teased her about it.

he just listened the way he always listened.

collecting and gathering every detail she offered without her realizing it.

it was like he was storing them away somewhere safe.

—

months later, she was standing in front of the pastry display at the coffee shop when jack casually mentioned the open house.

she looked up immediately.

"what.. really?" she said is disbelief. “i didn’t see a sign, though. are you sure?” she said in the middle of taking a bite of her banana loaf.

"yeah they’re showing the townhouse today.” he repeated with that signature sideways smile. “it’s a private showing.” he shrugged.

the excitement that lit her face was instant and for a moment, jack almost felt guilty because she had absolutely no idea…

when they arrived, the house was somehow even more beautiful inside.

sunlight spilled through oversized windows, warming polished hardwood floors and pale walls.

the entire place felt bright, open and comfortable.

it was a place that people built lives together and they could feel the warmth of a loved and cherished home.

jack spent most of the tour watching her instead of the house.

watching her wander into every room with wide eyes, watching her run her fingertips along the bathroom countertops.

watching her stand in front of windows and imagine things.

he knew she was imagining things because she'd always done that. her imagination was everything that made her into the dreamer that she was.

even in their tiny conversations, or while walking down the street.

she saw dreams everywhere and a beautifully bright future in every empty space.

"this kitchen is incredible." she mused, as she rounded the kitchen island and peered out the windows that rested right above the kitchen sink.

her voice echoed softly through the room as jack leaned against the doorway.

her shoulders sank as she peered into the lush backyard garden.

"It is." he said as he watched her in quiet awe.

she moved toward one of the windows, sunlight caught her hair. the sight of her standing there nearly stole the breath from his lungs.

because she looked like she belonged there.. with him. he nearly groaned at the sight of her. her hair falling behind her shoulders while she playfully pretended to wash the dishes.

he smiled wildly as she looked behind her at him and wiggled her eyebrows, causing them both to giggle.

it looked like she wasn’t visiting.

or imagining.

she was just belonging.

as if the house had been waiting for her this whole entire time.

the realtor eventually left them alone to explore.

that was when the trouble started.

because the more she saw, the more she fell in love with it.

and the more she fell in love with it, the more impossible it became for her to hide her disappointment.

by the time they reached the living room again, she was trying very hard to be realistic.

jack knew that look it was the one where she talked herself out of wanting something.

it's okay," she said softly.

nobody had even asked a question.

jack raised an eyebrow as she laughed a little sadly.

"this place is just..." her gaze drifted toward the windows.

the fireplace.

the staircase.

everything.

"it's perfect." she hummed as jack placed his hand on the back of her small back. her words came out as barely more than a whisper as she looked up at him.

jack felt something squeeze painfully inside his chest.

because she wasn't being dramatic.

or materialistic, or unrealistic, she just genuinely loved this place.

the same way she loved old bookstores and small coffee shops and rainy afternoons cuddled with a good book.

she loved things completely, with her whole heart.

"a girl can dream, right?" she said softly to him. her smile small.

jack stared at her for a long moment— long enough that she did a double take when she wanted to pull him out and go back home.

"w-what?" she looked at him in confusion.

his hands slipped into his pockets, a nervous habit which was one she rarely ever saw.

then he nodded toward the room around them.

"good thing you don't have to." he nodded earnestly.

confusion flickered across her face. she laughed his name, "what are you talking about?"

"you don't have to dream about it, baby."

the silence that followed stretched before he finally said it.

"i bought it."

she blinked…once…twice.

the words clearly didn't fully register and he wanted to kiss her stupid as she gave him a look of purse confusion.

"i bought the townhouse, baby.” he said stalking closer to her, his shoes echoing throughout the kitchen.

still nothing.

her mouth opened slightly.

closed.

opened again.

jack fought back a smile because for someone so smart, she looked completely lost.

"you..." her voice disappeared.

jack nodded trying to get it out of her.

"i bought it." he said cocooning her into his arms as if to block her away from the rest of the world.

another heartbeat passed.

then another.

finally her eyes widened.

not a little.

a lot.

the kind of realization that arrives all at once. it was sudden and overwhelming and her heart was beating so fast she could have sworn that he could hear it.

"f-for us?" the question cracked in the middle.

jack's expression softened immediately.

"yeah." his voice was gentle, “so we can have somewhere that's ours."

the tears arrived instantly.

jack sighed.

because of course they did.

she slapped both hands over her face.

which somehow made it worse.

"sweetheart—"

"you bought me a house?”

his laugh filled the room. "i bought us a house."

"a whole house, jack."

"technically it's a townhouse." he teased causing her to let out a watery laugh.

then immediately started crying harder.

“i want you to decorate it however you want and i’m gonna help you.” he said softly, moving her hair behind her shoulders as she looked up at him. “we’re gonna make it ours.”

the next thing jack knew, she was throwing her arms around his neck as he wrapped his strong arms around her small frame.

of course he caught her automatically.

strong freckled arms wrapping around her waist as she buried her face against his chest.

the familiar scent of coffee and aftershave surrounded her instantly.

safe, comforting, home.

kack rested his chin on top of her head, holding her tightly. neither of them spoke for a while.

they just stood there in the middle of their future living room as the sunlight poured in around them.

the house quiet and waiting.

finally she tilted her head back enough to look at him.

her eyes were red and her cheeks damp.

beautiful.

"you remembered." the words were tiny they made jack frown.

"remembered what?" he wanted to know, as he wiped his thumb against her wet cheeks.

she laughed softly. "the windows."

his expression immediately melted because of course that's what she was talking about.

not the price, or the size and not even the investment of it all.

the windows.

the thing she'd mentioned months ago during a random walk.

"the balcony." her voice trembled.

"the flower boxes."

jack brushed his thumb against her bottom lip as it quivered.

"i remember everything you tell me." he mused.

and judging by the way her face crumpled, that might have been the most emotional thing he'd said all day.

—

later, after the realtor returned and paperwork was discussed and the reality of it all slowly settled around them, they found themselves standing on the little front patio.

the one she'd always admired and pointed out dozens of times.

jack handed her the key, simple and unassuming. yet somehow heavier than anything she'd ever held before.

she stared at it in her palm, then up at him, then back at the house.

their house. their future.

their home.

jack leaned down and kissed her forehead softly before giving the smile that destroyed her every single time because it was the kind of smile he reserved only for her.

"what do you say we go back and start to unpack" he hummed.

and this time, when she looked at the townhouse, she didn't have to imagine anymore.

The first rule of pediatrics was that fear moved faster than pain. You had learned that early.

Pain made kids cry. Fear made them bolt.

Eli Mereiter had been trying very hard not to do either for almost twenty minutes.

He sat in the center of the peds exam bed with his knees tucked under the thin blanket, his left wrist cradled against his chest, his cheeks blotchy from the effort of pretending he was fine. His mother stood near the head of the bed, one hand on his shoulder and the other twisting the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

“You’re doing great,” you told him.

Eli looked at the IV tray and swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

You crouched beside the bed so you were closer to eye level.

“You are. Great doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It means you’re still here with me even though you are.”

His eyes flicked to yours.

The honesty helped. It usually did. Kids could smell a lie faster than adults could dress one up.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he said.

You nodded.

“It’s going to pinch. I won’t call it nothing.” You rested one hand on the mattress, close but not touching him without warning. “But it’ll be fast, and you don’t have to watch.”

His mouth trembled once before he pressed it flat. “I don’t want it.”

“I know.” You gave him a serious nod. “That’s fair. We can hate it together.”

Eli looked at you like that was suspicious. “You hate it?”

“I hate it when kids have to do scary things,” you said. “But I like when they get through them and realize they were braver than they thought.”

His mom made a quiet sound behind him.

You glanced up at her and gave a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Eli.

“How about this,” you said. “You pick where you look. Mom’s face, the ceiling tile that kind of looks like a potato, or me.”

Eli’s brows pinched together. “The ceiling tile doesn’t look like a potato.”

You looked up. “It absolutely does.”

He glanced up despite himself. For one second, his attention shifted. Not enough to make him calm, but enough to give him somewhere else to put the fear.

“That one?” he asked.

You nodded. “Very potato.” His mom gave a wet little laugh.

The nurse beside you finished prepping the IV with practiced quiet. You saw Eli clock the movement anyway. His eyes cut to the tourniquet. Then the alcohol wipe. Then the catheter.

His breathing changed. You leaned in slightly. “Eli. Look at me.” His gaze snapped back to yours.

You kept your voice low and even. “Can you breathe in with me?”

He tried. His breath caught halfway.

“That’s okay,” you said. “Again. Smaller this time.”

The nurse reached for his arm. Eli saw the flash of the needle. Fear got there first.

“No,” he said.

His mother tightened her hand on his shoulder. “Eli—”

“No!” He jerked backward, fast and hard, trying to get away from the tray, from the nurse, from the whole room.

“Hey, hey.” You moved with him. “You’re okay.”

But he was already twisting. His sneaker slid against the paper sheet. His hip caught the edge of the mattress. The bed rail was down on your side because you had been sitting there with him, and his small body tipped toward the open space between the bed and the floor.

You moved before thought could catch up.

Your hand caught the back of his gown. Your other arm shot across his chest, bracing him before he could fall.

For half a second, you had him. Then his weight hit your shoulder wrong. Something shifted. Not cracked. Not snapped.

Slipped.

White-hot pain tore through your shoulder and down your arm so violently that the room went gray at the edges. You made a sound you did not recognize.

Someone grabbed Eli from the other side.

“I’ve got him,” the other nurse said. “I’ve got him.”

Good, you thought. That was good.

You went down hard on one knee, your right arm hanging wrong, breath gone from your chest.

Eli was crying now. Not the scared kind. The guilty kind.

“I hurt her,” he sobbed.

You tried to lift your head. Bad idea. Pain slammed up the side of your neck and behind your teeth.

“No,” you forced out. Your voice sounded thin. Far away. “No, honey. You didn’t.”

A hand touched your back. “Don’t move,” someone said.

You tried to breathe through your nose. “Is he okay?”

“He’s okay,” she repeated, firmer this time. “We have him.”

Eli’s mother had him against her now, both arms wrapped around his shaking body. His face was turned toward you, wet and horrified.

You managed to focus on him. “Eli.”

His crying hitched. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You swallowed down nausea. “I know you didn’t. You got scared. That’s different.”

His face crumpled harder. You looked at his mom. “Tell him I’m not mad.”

“We will,” she said quickly.

You closed your eyes for half a second. “Please tell him.”

“We will,” the nurse said beside you. “But right now, we need to get you downstairs.”

You opened your eyes. “No, he needs—”

“He has his mom,” she said gently. “And he has Megan. We’ve got him.”

You wanted to argue. Your shoulder pulsed once, deep and sickening, and the rest of the sentence disappeared. Someone called down to the ED before they moved you. You heard pieces of it through the pain and the blood rushing in your ears.

“Staff injury coming down from peds.”

“Likely right shoulder dislocation.”

“Caught a pediatric patient who panicked during IV prep.”

“Vitals stable.”

“Severe pain.”

Nobody said your name. Or maybe they did, and it got swallowed somewhere between the exam room and the elevator. Either way, by the time they got you into a wheelchair, your scrubs were damp at the collar, your vision kept narrowing at the corners, and your arm had become a separate, terrible country you refused to look at.

You hated being the patient.

You hated it so much you almost missed the part where you were terrified. Almost.

The elevator ride downstairs felt both too fast and too slow. Someone kept telling you to breathe. Someone else kept asking your pain number. You gave a number that was probably too low because saying the real one made it feel more real.

The ED doors opened.

The familiar noise hit first. Monitors. Shoes. Voices. The distant roll of a cart.

Robby was already at the mouth of a bay when they wheeled you in, tablet in hand, chief-of-the-ER face on. Dana stood beside him with gloves already pulled on, calm and unsmiling in the way that meant she had already cleared the room in her head. Santos hovered just behind her like she could smell a procedure from three bays away. Princess was at the computer, and Javadi stood near the supply cart, trying very hard to look like someone who was not internally rehearsing every step of a shoulder reduction.

“Peds called down,” Robby said. “Likely right shoulder disloca—”

Then he saw your face. The chief of the ER expression dropped clean off.

For one second, he was not chief of anything. He was just your friend. “What the fuck, dude?”

You tried to glare at him. “Great bedside manner.”

Robby was already moving. He came to your side, one hand bracing the wheelchair arm, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Look at me,” he said. “You with me?”

You blinked at him through the pain. “No, Robby, I thought I’d dissociate recreationally.”

His jaw tightened. “Answer me like less of a pain in my ass.”

You sighed. “I’m with you.”

“Good.” He glanced at the peds nurse behind your chair. “They called down a peds nurse. They did not say it was you.”

“Would that have changed your medical plan?” you asked.

“No.” His eyes flicked to your shoulder, and the doctor came back into him all at once. “It would have given me thirty more seconds to emotionally prepare for both my friend being injured and Jack killing me.”

“Jack is not going to kill you,” you replied.

Dana made a quiet sound. Robby pointed at her without looking. “Do not contribute.”

Dana lifted both gloved hands. “I said nothing.”

“You thought loudly.”

Santos leaned slightly to see your arm better. “Is it anterior?”

You swallowed through the pain. “Is Eli okay?”

Robby’s attention snapped back to you. Then he looked to the peds nurse. “Eli is the kid?”

The peds nurse nodded quickly. “Eight-year-old. Wrist injury. He’s okay. Megan stayed with him and his mom.”

Your eyes closed. “Did someone tell him I’m not mad?”

Robby went still for half a beat. His expression changed again. Softer this time. Worried in a way he could not hide behind sarcasm fast enough.

“Yeah,” he said. “They told him.”

“He won’t believe them,” you murmured.

Robby looked at you. “He might.”

“He’s eight.” Your voice thinned around the pain. “Eight-year-olds think everything is their fault.”

Robby looked at you for one second too long. Then he nodded once, like he was putting that away for later. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to get you on the bed. Slow. Dana, support the arm. Javadi, do not look terrified.”

Javadi straightened. “I’m not terrified.” Robby looked at her.

Javadi swallowed. “I’m appropriately alert.” Robby nodded once. “Better.”

You hated how many people it took.

You hated the careful hands and the count of three and the way pain still broke through your teeth when they moved you.

You hated that Robby’s face stayed calm. That meant it looked bad.

Once you were on the bed, Dana slid a pillow under your arm with the clean precision of a woman who did not waste motion. Princess clipped a monitor to your finger. Javadi asked about allergies, her voice only a little too bright. Santos hovered at the foot of the bed, watching your shoulder with open interest until Dana glanced at her.

Santos lifted her hands. “I’m not touching anything.”

“Correct,” Dana said.

Robby looked up from your shoulder. “Pain number.” You hesitated.

He gave you a look. “Do not make me ask like I don’t know you.” You told the truth.

Robby’s mouth tightened. “Thank you for not lying to me twice.”

“I lied once,” you admitted.

Robby shook his head. “You lied badly once.” Your breathing hitched. “Did someone tell Eli?”

The peds nurse, still lingering near the curtain, nodded. “Megan did. His mom did too.”

“But did he believe them?” you pushed.

Robby braced one hand lightly on the bed rail. “Do not try to sit up.”

You looked at him. “I wasn’t.”

“You thought about it,” Robby replied.

Your eyes narrowed. “You can’t prove that.”

“I’m chief of emergency medicine,” he said. “I can prove anything if I chart creatively.”

A laugh tried to escape you. It did not make it past the pain. Robby saw that too. His voice shifted.

“IV, x-ray, then pain meds before we reduce it,” he said. “Let’s get films and make sure we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Love being discussed like a broken chair,” you muttered.

Robby leaned over you, penlight in hand. “I have never met a chair this mouthy.”

Princess found a vein in your good arm. You looked away while she taped the line down. That felt ridiculous, considering you had started hundreds of IVs yourself, but today your body had decided to be dramatic, and you were not giving it more material.

Robby watched your face. “You okay?”

“No,” you answered honestly.

Robby almost smiled. “Good answer.”

Princess glanced up from your IV. “Do you want us to call someone?”

“Yes,” you said immediately.

Robby’s eyes narrowed like he already knew where this was going.

Princess kept her hands near the computer. “Who should we call?”

“Jack Abbot.”

The room did not stop. Not yet. Princess typed, then paused.

Her eyes moved from the screen to you. “Dr. Abbot?”

You breathed through your teeth. “Yes.”

The room went a little too quiet. You opened one eye. “What?”

Santos looked from you to Robby. “Night-shift Abbot?”

“How many Jack Abbots do you know?” you asked.

Javadi made the mistake of whispering, “Dr. Abbot is her emergency contact?”

“He’s my husband,” you said, like that explained the entire universe.

It did, actually. Just not to the room. Santos stared.

Javadi looked like someone had changed the laws of physics in front of her.

Princess’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Dana, somehow, did not move at all.

Then her eyes narrowed. “The sandwich.” You closed your eyes. “Dana.”

Santos looked at her. “What sandwich?”

Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “Shift change. Three weeks ago. Abbot was coming off nights. She was passing the desk with a stack of peds charts.”

Princess leaned around Javadi. “I remember that.”

“He had half a sandwich in his hand,” Dana said. “Tore the crust off without breaking conversation, held it up, and she took it on the way by.”

You breathed carefully through your teeth. “I was hungry.”

“You said thanks,” Dana added.

Santos blinked. “That’s it?” Dana finally looked up.

“That’s the point.” A beat passed.

Then Princess pointed toward you. “Wait. The parking lot.”

You opened one eye. “Please don’t.”

“I saw you two by the employee parking last month,” Princess said. “He switched sides with you near the cars.”

Javadi blinked. “Switched sides?” Princess looked at her like this was obvious. “The sidewalk rule.”

Javadi’s brows pulled together. “The what?”

“When the guy walks closer to the street,” Princess said. “Protective thing. Old-school. Very romantic if he’s hot.”

Santos made a face. “That sounds fake.”

Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord. “It’s not fake.”

Princess pointed at Dana. “Thank you.”

You stared at the ceiling. “Can we not analyze my husband’s walking patterns while my shoulder is in another fucking zip code?”

“And he had your bag,” Princess added.

“It was heavy,” you said.

She looked at you. “It had little strawberries on it.”

Robby’s mouth twitched. “Jack carried a strawberry bag?”

You gave him the best glare you could manage while lying flat with your arm attempting secession. “You are supposed to be my doctor.”

Santos’s face changed. “Oh, my god. The fire alarm drill.”

“No,” you said.

“You had his jacket,” she said.

“It was cold.”

“No.” Santos pointed, too delighted to stop herself. “He put it around your shoulders before you asked.”

Dana’s gaze sharpened with recognition.

Santos nodded hard. “And took your clipboard so you could get your arms through the sleeves.”

Princess looked at Robby. “You knew?”

Robby held up one hand. “I was at the wedding.”

The room shifted again. Javadi whispered, “There was a wedding?”

You stared at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think day shift needs hobbies.”

Robby looked at you, and this time his humor was gentle around the edges. “You married a night-shift attending and then wandered around this hospital accepting crustless sandwich halves like that was normal.”

“It is normal,” you replied.

“For married people,” Dana said.

Santos looked personally offended. “I am usually very good at noticing things.”

You swallowed through another pulse of pain. “Sorry my marriage was inconvenient for your brand.”

Robby pointed at you. “Pain has not made her less mean. Excellent prognostic sign.”

Princess was still looking at you like she had discovered treasure. “So Dr. Abbot is your husband.”

“Yes.”

“And he brings you coffee,” Princess added.

You inhaled. “Yes.”

“And the sandwich,” she continued.

“Yes.”

Princess’s eyebrows rose. “And the parking lot.” You closed your eyes. “I would like drugs now.”

Robby’s smile faded enough for his concern to show again. “Soon,” he said. “We’re moving.”

Then he held out his hand toward Princess. “I’ll call him.”

You looked at him. “You don’t have to.”

“I do, actually,” Robby replied.

“Why?”

Robby’s face softened around the edges, just enough that your chest hurt for reasons that had nothing to do with your shoulder.

“Because he’s going to be worried,” he said. “And if a stranger calls him, he’s going to scare somebody.”

You sighed. “Jack doesn’t scare people.”

“No,” Robby said. “But when he’s worried about you, he gets very concise.”

Dana hummed. “That’s true.”

You closed your eyes. “Tell him not to speed.”

Robby shook his head. “I’m not promising that.”

“Robby,” you said, trying to sound reasonable.

He sighed. “I’ll suggest moderation.”

Robby stepped a few feet away from the bed and tapped Jack’s contact. You watched him through the pain, sweat cooling at the back of your neck. He pointed at you without lowering the phone. “Try not to dislocate anything else while I’m gone.” The call rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, Jack answered.

His voice came rough with sleep and irritation. “What, Robby?”

Robby glanced back at you. You were pale on the bed, jaw tight, your good hand fisted in the sheet while Dana adjusted the monitor.

“Your wife is in the ED,” Robby said. “She’s fine. I’ve got her.”

The line went silent. Then Jack’s voice came back low and awake. “What happened?”

“Right shoulder dislocation,” Robby said. “Peds incident. She caught a kid before he fell and took the force the wrong way. She’s conscious, stable, and pissed off, which I’m taking as a good sign.”

Another pause. Jack breathed out once, sharply. “Of course she caught the kid.”

“Yeah,” Robby said, softer. “That was my reaction too.”

You lifted your head an inch off the pillow. “Tell him not to speed.”

Robby looked over his shoulder. You stared back, sweaty and serious.

“She says not to speed.”

Jack was already moving. Robby could hear it through the phone: sheets, a drawer, something hitting the floor. “Tell her I’m coming.”

“Jack,” Robby said carefully.

“I heard her,” Jack said sharply.

Robby nodded once. “Good.”

“Thanks, brother. I’m on my way,” Jack replied.

Robby’s mouth softened. “Yeah,” he said.

He ended the call and came back to the side of the bed. “He’s coming.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow. “Good.” The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Robby heard that too. For a second, he was quiet.

Then he nodded to Princess. “Now give her the good stuff before she remembers she’s trying to be reasonable.”

Princess pushed medication into your IV. Warmth moved up your arm a few seconds later, strange and soft. The pain did not vanish, but the edges of the room began to loosen. The lights blurred a little. The monitor beep sounded farther away.

You blinked. “Wow.”

Santos leaned closer. “How’s that?”

You turned your head toward her slowly. “You have two faces.”

Robby’s mouth twitched. “Better?”

You inhaled. “I can still feel my skeleton making bad choices.”

“So, somewhat.” Robby grinned.

You looked toward the curtain. “Did someone tell Eli I’m not mad?”

Robby exhaled. “Yes.”

“I’m not mad,” you repeated.

“I know.”

You blinked hard. “No, but he needs to know.”

“He knows,” Robby replied gently.

You frowned. “You’re just saying that.”

“I am saying many things,” Robby said. “This one happens to be true.”

You tried to sit up. Every person in the room reacted.

Dana touched your good shoulder. “Nope. Stay back.”

“I should tell him,” you told her.

“You should keep your shoulder still,” Robby said.

You frowned at him. “You’re being bossy.” Robby shrugged. “It’s on the mug.”

“Jack has a mug that says World’s Sexiest Doctor,” you replied without thinking. The pain meds were softening things too much now. Words had started wandering into places you had not invited them.

Robby slowly turned his head. “I’m sorry. He has a what?”

You winced. “It was a joke. I got it for him when we were dating.”

Princess looked delighted. “And he kept it?”

You breathed through another pulse of pain. “He drinks out of it every morning.”

Santos stared. “Abbot drinks coffee out of a World’s Sexiest Doctor mug?”

Dana, dry as dust, added, “That explains more than I wanted it to.”

Robby pressed his fingers to his mouth like he was trying to hold in actual joy.

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to be my doctor.”

“I am,” Robby said. “And this is healing me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. The ED lights drifted above you. Your body felt heavy against the bed, but your mind kept circling the same places. Eli crying. Your shoulder slipping. Jack coming. You blinked slowly. “Did someone tell Eli?”

Dana adjusted the blanket around your legs. “Yes.”

“Did someone tell Jack?” you asked.

Robby’s mouth twitched. “Yes.” You nodded, satisfied for exactly one second.

Then you frowned. “Which one is coming to see me?”

Robby stared at you. “What?”

“Eli or Jack?” you asked.

Princess turned toward the computer with suspicious speed. Santos looked openly delighted. Robby’s expression brightened with pure, terrible affection.

“Oh,” he said softly. “This is going to be a great drug for you.”

You frowned. “Don’t be weird.”

Robby patted the bed rail. “Try not to say anything incriminating before your husband gets here.”

Your eyes closed, but you could still hear the smile in his voice. “Jack already knows everything.”

Robby made a thoughtful sound. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s test that.”

Robby stayed beside the bed after Princess pushed the medication. One hand rested on the rail. His eyes moved from your face to the monitor, then to your shoulder, then back to your face again. He was not joking as much now.

You hated that. “Stop looking worried,” you said.

His mouth twitched, but it did not quite become a smile. “Stop giving me reasons.”

You blinked at him, the lights blurring softly around the edges. “Rude.”

“Consistent,” Robby said.

Dana adjusted the blanket over your legs, brisk yet careful. “That’s one word for it.”

The medication had made the room strange. Softer, but not kinder. The monitors sounded farther away, and the overhead lights had started to bloom at the edges. Your shoulder still hurts. Not as sharply as before, maybe, but it was there under everything, pulsing and wrong. You tried to shift away from it. Your body disagreed. “Bad,” you muttered.

Robby leaned in a fraction. “Pain?”

You shook your head. “Existence.”

He nodded once. “Fair.”

Dana checked the line of your IV, then glanced at him.

Robby’s eyes returned to yours, and something in his face softened. “Hey,” he said. “World’s Sexiest Doctor.”

You frowned. “What?”

“The mug,” Robby said, voice lighter on purpose. “You said he drinks out of it every morning.”

Your face softened before you could stop it. “He does.” Princess turned from the computer with immediate interest. Santos, who had been pretending not to hover near the foot of the bed, stopped pretending. Dana’s expression did not change, but her eyes flicked toward you.

Robby leaned one forearm against the rail. “Still can’t believe he committed to the bit.”

“It’s not a bit,” you said.

Robby’s eyebrows lifted. “No?”

You looked at him like he was missing the obvious. “It’s true.”

Santos’s mouth curved. Dana looked down at the monitor. Princess pressed her lips together like she was holding something very large behind her teeth. You blinked at the ceiling, dreamy and annoyed all at once. “He is the sexiest doctor.”

Robby drew back like you had slapped him. “Rude.”

You turned your head toward him slowly. “You’re right.”

His expression softened. “Thank you.”

“Ellis is pretty hot, too,” you murmured happily.

Robby froze. Princess made a sound and turned sharply toward the computer. Santos whispered, “Wow.”

Dana closed her eyes. Robby stared at you. “That was not the correction I was requesting.”

You considered him through the pleasant fog around your thoughts. “You have nice hair.”

Robby’s hand went to his chest. “That was devastatingly lukewarm.”

“It is nice.”

“Nice hair,” he repeated, wounded. “That’s what I get after years of friendship.”

“You’re my friend,” you said.

His expression shifted. For one second, the joke left his face. “I know.”

You watched him through the blur. “You’re a good doctor.”

Robby’s hand tightened slightly on the rail. “You’re on excellent medication.”

“I mean it.”

“I know,” he said, quieter.

Dana looked away first. Santos suddenly found the supply tray very interesting. Robby cleared his throat and straightened. “Okay,” he said, his voice returning to a steady tone. “Let’s get ready.”

The words landed wrong. Your smile faded. The room shifted back into medicine too quickly. Gloves. Positioning. Dana adjusting the bed. Santos watching Robby’s hands intently. Javadi standing too still by the supplies, trying to look prepared. Your stomach dropped through the medication. “Wait.” Robby looked back at you. “Yeah?”

Your good hand tightened in the sheet. “You’re doing it now?” His expression softened. “Soon.”

“No.”

Dana’s hand settled lightly near your good shoulder. Not holding you down. Just there.

Robby stepped closer. “I know.”

“No, Robby.” Your voice stayed even, but barely. “I don’t want to do it.”

Robby did not flinch. “I know you don’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you mean it.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

Robby’s face changed again, not much, just enough to show you he hated this part too. “I’m going to be as gentle as I can.”

You frowned. “That’s what people say before they do stuff that sucks.” Santos muttered, “Accurate.”

Dana looked at her. Santos lifted both hands. “I’m validating.”

Robby ignored her and kept his eyes on you. “It is going to suck,” he said. “But the longer it stays out, the worse it’s going to feel. I want to get it back where it belongs.”

Your breathing went shallow. The medication had made everything loose except the fear. That stayed sharp. Clear. Mean. You looked toward the hallway. “Fine.” Robby waited. You glared at him, sweaty and medicated and angry enough to hide behind it. “I’ll do it if Jack is my doctor.”

The room paused. Dana looked at Robby. Princess looked at the hallway. Javadi looked like she had just realized this was not covered in any textbook.

Robby let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said carefully. “That’s not how this works.”

You frowned at him. “He’s a doctor.”

“He is.” Dana’s voice stayed calm beside you. “He’s also your husband.”

You looked at her like she had helped your case. “Exactly.” Robby’s mouth twitched despite himself.

Before he could answer, Jack’s voice cut through the department. “Where is she?”

Your head turned. Completely. All the thoughts in your brain scattered like startled birds. Jack was halfway down the hall, moving fast and trying not to look like he was moving fast, a hoodie under his unzipped jacket. His hair was sleep-rough on one side. His jaw was tight, his eyes already searching, already locked on the room. The second he saw you, his pace changed.

Your good hand lifted off the sheet. “That one.”

Robby followed your gaze. For the first time since the reduction tray came out, true humor broke through his worry. “Oh,” he said softly. “Okay.”

Jack stepped into the bay. You pointed at him, certain now. “I want that one.”

Jack froze for half a second. His eyes moved over you. Face. IV. Monitor. Shoulder. Robby. Dana. Back to your face.

Then he was at your side. “Baby.”

The word hit the room like a dropped instrument. Santos stared very hard at the floor. Princess pressed her lips together. Javadi’s eyes went wide, then wider, like she was watching hospital folklore become sentient.

You smiled up at him. “Hi.”

Jack took your good hand, his palm warm and familiar around yours. “Hi.”

His thumb moved once over your knuckles. You exhaled. You felt it happen before you could stop it. Your shoulders did not relax, not really, but your breathing changed. Your grip loosened from the sheet. The sharp edge of panic moved back by an inch.

Robby saw it. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to Jack’s hand. “Interesting.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”

“I’m observing.”

“You observe too loudly.”

Robby’s mouth curved. “I am her physician.”

Jack’s jaw tightened. “You are enjoying being her physician too much.”

“I was worried,” Robby said.

The joke thinned for a second. Jack looked up. Robby held his gaze. “Still am.”

Jack’s face shifted.

You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do serious faces.”

Jack looked back down at you. His thumb moved again. “Sorry.”

You studied him, hazy and affectionate. “You came.”

“Of course I came.”

You turned your head toward Dana, solemn and proud. “I picked that one.”

Dana’s mouth twitched. “So I’m hearing.”

Jack closed his eyes. “What did you give her?”

“Pain control,” Robby said. “Not enough to explain all of this.”

You tugged lightly on Jack’s hand. “He’s being rude.”

Jack looked at Robby. “Stop being rude.”

Robby pointed at him. “You weren’t even here.”

“I believe my wife.”

Princess turned toward the computer again, but not fast enough to hide her smile.

Santos murmured, “That was hot.”

Dana said, “Santos.”

“What? It was,” Santos replied with a shrug.

Jack ignored all of them and leaned closer to you. “How bad?”

“Bad.”

His face softened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, then regretted it. “Don’t let me do head stuff.”

“I won’t,” Jack promised.

You frowned. “Having a head is bad.”

“I’ll make a note,” Jack said with a soft smile.

Robby stepped closer to your injured side. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to try Cunningham.”

“No.” Your response was immediate.

Jack’s hand tightened around yours. Robby did not react like the word surprised him. “I know.”

“No, I don’t want Cunningham. It sounds smug,” you told him.

Robby’s brow raised. “It’s a reduction technique, not a man at a country club.”

You frowned at him. “Still smug.”

Jack’s thumb brushed your knuckles. “Look at me.”

You turned your eyes back to him. “No.”

Jack’s eyes softened. “You’re already doing it.”

You glared. “That’s annoying.”

His mouth almost smiled. “I know.”

Robby looked between you and Jack. Then his eyes moved to the monitor again. A thought entered his face.

Jack saw it immediately. “No.”

Robby blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dana adjusted the bed so you were sitting up more, angled slightly back against the raised mattress. The movement sent a pain-sparking sensation down your arm. “Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, this is worse than my fucking IUD insertion.”

The room went silent. Jack’s thumb stilled against your hand. “Okay,” he said carefully.

You opened your eyes and glared at the ceiling. “I thought I knew pain. I was wrong.”

Dana’s mouth twitched near the monitor. Princess turned very deliberately toward the computer.

Jack leaned closer. “Baby.”

“No.” You turned your glare on him. “This is your fault.”

His brows pulled together. “My fault?”

“Yes.”

Jack blinked once. “How is this my fault?”

“Because,” you said, furious and medicated, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know this was worse.”

Robby looked up. Jack did not move.

“I was doing fine,” you continued. “I was in my celibate phase. I was at peace.”

Jack’s face changed by exactly one dangerous millimeter. “You were not at peace.”

“I was close.” Your eyes narrowed. “Then you came along with your stupid handsome face and your stupid arms, and then I got the stupid IUD, and I thought that was pain. But no.”

Robby nodded slowly. “That is a clinically fascinating chain of blame.”

Jack did not look away from you. “So your shoulder hurts because I’m handsome.”

“And slutty with your forearms,” you added.

Jack’s jaw flexed. Santos whispered, “Slutty forearms.”

Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.” Your face softened immediately.

Jack noticed. His eyes dropped back to yours, something warm cutting through the mortification. “What?”

You blinked up at him, drug-soft and suddenly pleased. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”

Jack’s thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah, baby.”

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”

Robby looked from you to Dana. Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “What?”

“You’re enjoying this,” Robby said.

“I am maintaining room discipline.”

“You called her Mrs. Abbot.”

Dana’s mouth barely moved. “That is her name.” Your smile widened.

Jack looked at Dana, then back at you, and his face softened despite himself. Dana glanced at the monitor. “See? Therapeutic.” Robby’s eyes dropped to Jack’s sleeve.

Jack saw it happen. “No.”

Robby smiled. “I didn’t say anything.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You looked at my sleeve.”

“Clinically,” Robby replied.

Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

You blinked up at Jack, still angry, still hazy, still betrayed by the entire medical system. “He does have nice forearms.”

Jack stared at the ceiling. Robby nodded toward Jack’s arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”

Jack looked at him. “Excuse me?”

“She’s tensing.”

Jack gave Robby a look. “You want me to roll up my sleeves.”

“I want patient compliance,” Robby corrected.

Jack looked at Dana. Dana glanced at the monitor, then at you. “It would probably help.”

Jack’s face went flat. “Not you too.”

Dana shrugged. “I’m practical.”

Robby looked delighted. “See? Medicine.”

Jack exhaled through his nose, then dragged one sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm. Your eyes followed the movement immediately. You hated yourself a little. Not enough to look away. His forearm flexed as he pushed the fabric past his elbow, tendons shifting under skin, the veins at his wrist standing out when his fingers curled once around the bed rail. Your mouth went soft.

Robby pointed at you. “There.”

Jack’s eyes cut to him. “Do not point at my wife while she’s objectifying me.”

“I am pointing at a response to treatment,” Robby replied with glee.

You looked at Jack’s arm. “Treatment is good.”

Princess made a strangled sound. Javadi stared straight ahead like a resident determined to survive rounds with her soul intact.

Jack leaned closer to you. “You are making this very difficult.”

You blinked. “Me?”

“You.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “Very stubborn. Very pretty. Extremely bad at being a patient.”

The giggle came before you could stop it. Soft. Helpless. Embarrassing. Jack’s eyes warmed. Robby looked like he had just discovered a new antibiotic. “Oh, that’s excellent.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Ignore him.”

“You think I’m pretty,” you said.

“I married you,” Jack replied.

“That’s not an answer.”

His mouth curved. “Yes, baby. I think you’re pretty.”

You melted. Completely. It was humiliating. It was also his fault. Robby adjusted your injured arm, careful and slow, guiding your hand toward his shoulder. The position made pain spark hot and immediate. “No.” You tried to pull back. “No, fuck this.”

Jack’s face sharpened. Robby’s tone stayed calm. “I need thirty seconds.”

“I don’t want thirty seconds,” you said, frowning.

Robby’s expression softened, “I know.”

“No, I want that one to do it,” you said, looking from Robby to Jack.

Jack leaned closer. “You have that one.”

“I want that one to doctor me.” Your lower lip jutted out.

Robby, far too cheerful, said, “We’ve covered the conflict of interest.”

You frowned at him. “Sexy doctor husband.”

Jack looked at Robby. “Fix her shoulder.”

Robby looked at Jack’s hoodie. Jack saw it. His whole body went still. “No.”

Robby lifted both hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Jack stared at him.

Robby smiled. “She responded well to forearm.”

“Forearm is not a drug,” Jack shot back.

Robby shrugged. “It is today.”

Jack dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

You, who had been blinking hazily at the ceiling, turned your head with alarming speed. “Yes.”

The room stopped. Completely. Jack’s hand froze halfway down his face. “No.”

You frowned, offended. “Rude.”

Princess turned toward the computer with the focus of a woman fighting for her life. Santos stared at the floor, shoulders shaking.

Dana checked the monitor. “Heart rate response noted.”

Jack looked at her. “Dana.”

She did not look up. “I report data.”

Robby pressed his lips together. “For the record, that was the fastest she’s oriented to verbal stimulus since the medication.”

You reached weakly for Jack’s hand. “Sexy doctor husband.”

Jack looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy from medication and pain, your good hand tight around his, your face still trying so hard to stay mad because scared was too vulnerable, and both of you knew it. His irritation lost some of its shape. “Fine,” he muttered. Robby brightened. Jack glared at him. “Don’t look so happy.”

“I’m a scientist observing results,” Robby replied, delighted.

Jack stood beside the bed and reached back, fingers catching the sweatshirt at the back of his neck. Your eyes locked onto the movement. He pulled it over his head in one smooth drag, the hem catching for half a second on the white T-shirt underneath. The shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders when he lifted his arms. His biceps shifted under the fabric. His forearms flexed as he dragged the sweatshirt free.

The room went very quiet. You stared. Completely gone. Jack paused with the sweatshirt in one hand. Just for a second. Long enough to let you look. His mouth tilted, barely. “Better?”

You nodded slowly. “Wow.”

Robby made a sound that might have been spiritual.

Jack dropped back into the chair beside you and took your hand again. “Eyes on me.”

You obeyed immediately. “Sexy doctor husband.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”

Robby looked at the monitor, then at Jack. “That was outstanding.”

Jack’s eyes opened. “Do not compliment me.”

“Clinically outstanding,” Robby corrected himself.

Jack’s gaze didn’t leave you. “Still no.”

Robby grinned. “You removed clothing, and her heart rate stabilized.”

“That is not what happened,” Jack replied with a sigh.

Dana glanced at the monitor. “It sort of is.” J

ack looked betrayed. “Dana.”

She shrugged. “I report data.”

Robby gestured toward you, far too pleased with the entire clinical situation. “Magic Mike: ED Edition.”

Jack’s head snapped up. “No.”

Robby’s grin spread slowly. “I don’t know, brother. You danced at your wedding. Pretty risky, if memory serves.”

Jack’s stare went flat. “Robby.”

“There was a certain Eminem song involved,” Robby continued.

Your head turned on the pillow. “Shake That.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Do not help him.”

Robby pointed at you, delighted. “That’s the one.”

Dana looked up from the monitor. “You danced to ‘Shake That’ at your wedding?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

You turned toward him with surprising speed. “Jack.”

His eyes opened. “Baby.”

Your brow furrowed, “Don’t you dare deny that.”

Princess pressed both lips together and turned toward the computer as if it had suddenly become fascinating. Santos stared between you and Jack, openly thrilled. You lifted your good hand as much as the IV allowed and pointed at him. “That moment changed my brain chemistry.”

Jack looked toward the ceiling. “Good Lord.”

Robby nodded solemnly. “For the record, I was there. It changed several people’s brain chemistry.”

Jack’s head turned slowly. “You cried during the father-daughter dance.”

“You and your wife offended decent people everywhere with that dance,” Robby said.

You nodded, glassy-eyed and completely unashamed. “Yep. My grandma left.”

Jack looked down at you, horror flickering across his face. “Your grandmother left?”

You blinked up at him. “You didn’t know that?”

“No,” Jack said. “I did not know that.”

“She came back for cake,” you added.

Jack looked at you. “That does not make it better.”

Robby’s grin widened. “I’m just saying. It was a lot of wedding.”

Jack’s eyes cut to him. “You ended that night with half your shirt unbuttoned because a bridesmaid took your tie off with her teeth.”

Santos’s head snapped up. “With her teeth?”

Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat wedding lore.”

Princess turned from the computer, delighted. “Did he go home with her?”

Robby pointed sharply at your shoulder. “We have a patient.”

Jack’s mouth curved, barely. “He did.”

Robby stared at him. “Betrayal.”

Jack shrugged. “You started this.”

“I started a medical discussion,” Robby defended.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “You called me Magic Mike.”

Robby frowned. “In a medical context.”

You looked between them, soft and dreamy now, the medication turning the memory warm around the edges. “It was perfect.”

Jack’s expression shifted. “Our wedding?”

You nodded. “You danced. I danced. Robby got slutty.”

Robby pointed at you. “For the record, ‘Robby got slutty’ is not medically relevant.”

Your eyes drifted back to Jack. You studied him for one long, medicated second. “You got slutty.”

Jack’s brows lifted. “I did not.”

You gave him a look. “Tell that to your hips.” You kept looking at Jack, still dreamy and deeply serious. “And hands.”

Jack closed his eyes again.

Santos made a tiny sound. “He got slutty.”

Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”

Your face softened immediately. Jack noticed. Of course, he noticed. His thumb moved once over your hand. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”

“I heard,” Jack said, quieter now.

A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.” Jack’s expression softened before he could stop it.

Robby looked from you to Dana. “You’re enjoying this.”

Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “I am maintaining room discipline.”

Jack looked at you slowly. He looked down at you, and something in his expression changed. Not embarrassed now. Worse. Amused. “You know, baby,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t hear you complaining that night.”

Your mouth parted. For one blessed second, the medication actually managed to quiet you.

Robby looked delighted. “Oh, that worked.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”

You blinked up at Jack, soft and glassy-eyed and deeply sincere. “I was thoroughly enjoying it.”

Dana closed her eyes. Princess turned fully toward the computer.

Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “That is a lot of marriage for a workplace.”

Jack’s jaw flexed, but his thumb moved over your hand again. “Trouble.”

You smiled faintly. “You started it.”

Robby pointed at Jack. “She’s right.”

Jack looked at him. “You started it.” Robby nodded. “Also true. Still worth it.”

Dana adjusted the bed, then looked at both of them. “Shoulder now. Wedding crimes later.”

You frowned. “They’re not crimes if everyone had fun.”

“Your grandmother left,” Jack said.

“She came back for cake.”

Robby nodded. “Strong recovery.”

Jack looked at him. “You are done.”

Robby smiled. “Brother, I have barely begun.”

Dana’s voice cut through, calm and final. “Robby.”

Robby lifted both hands. “Shoulder now.”

Jack leaned closer to you, resigned and soft all at once. “Eyes on me, trouble.”

You looked at his white T-shirt, then his face. “I am looking,” you said. “That’s the problem.”

For half a second, he looked like he might say something that would make the entire situation worse.

Robby must have seen it coming, because he clapped once, sharp and quiet. “Okay,” he said. “Shoulder.”

Jack’s eyes stayed on yours. “You heard the man.”

You frowned at him. “I don’t like the man.”

Robby adjusted his gloves at your injured side. “The man is hurt by that.”

Dana moved closer to the bed, one hand resting near your good shoulder. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, calm and even. “We’re going to sit you up a little more.”

Your face softened immediately. Jack saw it again. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You like that.”

You blinked at him. “Like what?”

His voice went quieter. “Mrs. Abbot.”

A small, helpless smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”

Jack’s expression changed. Not enough for anyone else to call him out on it, maybe, but enough for you to feel warmer than the medication could explain. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “That’s you.”

Robby looked at Dana. Dana kept her face neutral. “Therapeutic,” she said.

Robby nodded solemnly. “Marital nomenclature. Noted.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Do not note that.”

Robby shrugged. “I have a whole mental chart now.”

“Delete it,” Jack shot back.

Robby grinned. “HIPAA doesn’t apply to my thoughts.”

Dana raised the bed before Jack could answer. The motion sent your shoulder into a hot, mean pulse. Your good hand tightened around Jack’s. “Nope.”

Jack stepped in closer immediately. “I’ve got you.”

“Nope,” you said again, sharper this time. “I changed my mind.”

Robby’s voice stayed steady from your side. “You can hate it.”

“I do hate it. I hate the concept. I hate whoever invented Cunningham,” you groaned.

Robby nodded once. “Probably fair.” You went on, “I hate that his name is Cunningham.”

“It is a useful medical procedure,” Robby replied.

You turned your glare on him. “Don’t defend Cunningham to me right now.”

Jack leaned into your line of sight. “Look at me.”

You looked at him. Mostly because he was very close. Also, because the T-shirt was still doing hateful things across his chest. Jack’s eyes narrowed faintly, like he knew exactly where your attention had gone.

“My face,” he said.

You sighed. “Your face is also a problem.”

Robby glanced at the monitor. “Problem appears effective.” Jack turned his head a fraction. “Robby.”

“Data,” Dana said.

Jack gave her a betrayed look. Dana’s brows lifted. “I report it.”

Robby slid your injured hand carefully toward his shoulder. The second your arm shifted, pain sparked bright and fast down your side.

“Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no, fuck that.”

Jack’s free hand came to your cheek. Warm palm. Steady fingers. No pressure, just contact. “Hey.”

You shook your head. “No, Jack, I really don’t—”

“I know.”

Robby paused, his hands still supporting your arm.

Jack’s thumb moved once beneath your cheekbone. “I know, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes. His face was right there. Close enough to blur at the edges. Worried in that contained way that made your chest hurt. Soft in the places no one else knew to look.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” you whispered.

Jack’s expression gentled. “I know.” Your throat tightened. “I’m being so stupid.”

“No,” he said immediately.

Robby’s voice came from your side, quieter now. “You’re not.”

Dana’s hand stayed light near your shoulder. “You are allowed to be in pain, Mrs. Abbot.”

Your mouth trembled. That was rude of her, honestly. Using the name like that.

Jack watched your face, and something in him settled. “Be mad,” he said softly. “Swear at Robby. Insult Cunningham.”

Robby lifted one hand. “I would like to opt out of one third of that.”

Jack ignored him. “But keep looking at me.” You swallowed. “You’re bossy.”

“I know.” Jack smiled softly.

You narrowed your eyes. “You like being bossy.” His mouth curved, barely. “With you?”

Your eyes widened a little. Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek. “Yeah.”

The room went dangerously still. Robby’s face brightened. “Oh, that was good.”

Jack’s eyes cut toward him. “Do not grade me.”

“I’m not grading. I’m appreciating the technique.”

Dana looked at the monitor. “Heart rate improved.” Jack exhaled through his nose. “Good Lord.”

You stared at him, caught between pain and medication and the unfair fact of him. “Sexy doctor husband.”

His jaw flexed. “Apparently.” Robby moved your elbow another careful inch. You tensed immediately.

Jack’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Eyes on me.”

You tried. You really did. Your gaze dropped to his mouth first.

Jack noticed. His mouth twitched. “My eyes, trouble.”

“I’m trying,” you groaned.

He smirked. “You’re doing terrible.” You made a small, offended sound.

Jack’s thumb stroked lightly at the base of your skull. “But you’re very pretty while you do it.”

A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. It came out wet, shaky, and ridiculous.

Robby froze. Dana glanced at the monitor. Princess made a tiny sound near the computer.

Santos looked like she might need to sit down. Jack’s eyes softened. “There she is.”

You frowned at him. “You’re flirting medically again.”

“I am not,” Jack replied.

Robby adjusted his grip on your elbow. “You are.”

Jack kept his face angled toward you. “No one asked you.”

“I did,” you said.

Jack looked back at you. “You did not.”

“I spiritually asked,” you said with a sigh.

Robby pointed at you. “She gets me.”

Jack’s hand tightened carefully at the back of your head. “That is what worries me.”

The laugh that tried to leave you broke into a gasp when Robby began working at the muscles around your shoulder.

Pain rose again, deep and threatening. “No,” you said, voice thin now.

Jack’s teasing vanished. Just gone. His face steadied. “Breathe with me.”

“I don’t want to breathe.”

He raised a brow. “Do it anyway.” You frowned. “That’s mean.”

“I know,” Jack agreed.

“Fuck, Jack.”

His eyes held yours. “I’ve got you.”

Robby’s voice came low and focused. “Good. Just like that. Try not to fight me.”

You turned your eyes toward him in outrage. “Try not to fight you?”

Jack’s hand at the back of your head guided you back. “Me.”

You sucked in a breath. “Robby is saying stupid things.”

“I know.” Jack nodded.

“I can hear you,” Robby said.

Jack’s thumb swept once under your eye. “Ignore him.”

“He’s touching my shoulder,” you said, miserable.

Jack tilted his head closer to you. “Because he’s fixing it.”

“I don’t like him,” you said with a frown.

Jack smiled softly at you. “You love him.”

“Not right now,” you said, brows furrowed.

Robby nodded without looking up. “Temporary friendship suspension. Accepted.”

Dana looked at you. “Hold still, Mrs. Abbot.”

The name hit exactly where it had before. Your breathing hitched, but this time it hitched softer.

Jack saw it. Robby saw it. Dana absolutely saw it. Robby looked at Dana. “You’re good.”

Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “I know.” Jack leaned closer. “You’re doing good.”

You stared at him. “I am?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Your eyes burned. “I’m making this difficult.” Jack nodded once. “You’re scared.”

“I’m swearing,” you continued.

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

“I told everyone about our wedding crimes.” Your lower lip wobbled.

His mouth moved like he was fighting a smile. “That one we’ll discuss later.”

“You got slutty.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Not now.” Robby’s shoulders shook once.

Jack’s eyes opened. “Do not laugh during my wife’s reduction.”

Robby’s expression snapped back into focus. “Guilty.”

Pain flared again, sharper this time, and your whole body tried to pull away.

Jack’s hand held steady at the back of your head. Not forcing you. Keeping you with him. “Look at me.”

You blinked away tears. “I am.”

“No.” His voice dropped. “Really look.”

You did.

His eyes were dark and close and worried. His thumb moved against your cheek, slow and sure.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Stay right there.”

Your breath shook. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” Jack murmured.

You went on. “Cunningham is a bad man.”

“Probably.” Jack nodded with a soft smile.

Robby glanced up. “Cunningham did not personally do this to you.”

You glared at him through tears. “He knows what he did.” Robby nodded. “I’ll allow it.”

Jack’s mouth brushed the edge of a smile.

You caught it. Even through pain. Even through fear. Even through the medication making the room swim around the edges. “You’re laughing.”

“I’m not,” Jack replied.

You glared at him. “You are.”

“Only because you’re mean on drugs,” he said, smiling softly at you.

You inhaled sharply. “I’m allowed to be mean right now.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, impossibly soft. “You are.”

Robby’s hands shifted. The pressure changed. Your body knew before your brain did.

You went rigid. “No.” Jack’s face sharpened. “Baby.”

“No, no, no, I don’t want—” You shook your head despite the pain.

His hand cupped your face more firmly. “Look at me.” Your eyes found his. “I am looking.”

“Good,” Jack said, his voice low and steady.

Your eyes burned as you stared up at him. “Jack.”

His hand stayed firm at the back of your head, fingers threaded carefully into your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You swallowed hard, trying not to pull away from Robby’s hands. “I hate this.”

“I know.” Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek.

Your breath hitched, half pain and half panic. “I hate your stupid face for helping.”

His mouth curved just enough to ruin you. “Use it.”

“What?”

“My stupid face.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “Look at it instead of your shoulder.”

You stared at him. “I hate that that works.”

“I know,” Jack murmured.

You glared at him. “Your face is medically annoying.” Robby murmured, “Groundbreaking terminology.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Not now.”

Robby’s hands shifted again. You felt the pressure build. Slow, careful, awful.

Jack saw you brace. Of course he did. His voice dropped. “Be good for me.”

Your face went soft immediately. “Oh, that’s unfair.”

Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye. “I know.”

“You’re cheating.” You tried to glare at him, but the medication and his hand in your hair made it a weak attempt.

His mouth curved, barely there and deeply unrepentant. “I know.”

Robby, without missing a beat, said, “Cheating is medically allowed right now.”

Jack’s jaw flexed. “Do it now.”

For one suspended second, there was only Jack’s face, his hand in your hair, his thumb on your cheek, and Robby’s steady pressure on your arm.

Then the joint shifted. Not violently. Not with a dramatic crack.

Just a deep, sickening slide, followed by sudden release. You gasped.

The wrongness vanished all at once. Your whole body folded toward Jack on a broken little sob.

He caught you carefully, one hand still cradling your head, the other braced at your good shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he said immediately. “I’ve got you.”

Robby exhaled. “Shoulder’s back.”

You breathed hard against Jack’s white T-shirt, your face pressed into the warmth of his chest, tears leaking more from relief than pain now. “Holy shit.”

Jack’s mouth brushed your hair before he seemed to remember there were witnesses. “Yeah.”

“That was awful,” you breathed, tears falling.

Jack kissed your head. “I know.” You turned your face enough to look up at him. “You were helpful.”

His expression softened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, still floating, still furious, still very much on drugs. “Sexy doctor husband.”

Robby pulled off his gloves with great satisfaction. “For the record, Cunningham with targeted husband exposure: wildly effective.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Document that and die.”

Robby smiled. “Brother, this is medicine now.”

You blinked up at Jack, wet-eyed and dazed. “I picked that one.”

The room went quiet around the softness in your voice. Jack’s thumb moved once along your cheek. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”

You stared at him for another long, drug-soft second. “I picked good.”

His face changed. Not a lot. Enough. “Yeah, baby,” he said quietly. “You did.”

Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “I need everyone to know I am handling this with incredible maturity.”

Dana looked at him. “You are not.”

“No,” Robby agreed. “But I almost did.”

Jack’s hand stayed against the side of your face for another second before he seemed to remember the rest of the room existed.

“Post-reduction films?” he asked, glancing toward Robby.

Robby pulled his gloves off and dropped them into the trash. “Already ordered.” Jack nodded once.

Robby gave him a look as he stepped back to your injured side. “Neurovascular was intact before. Checking again now.”

“I know you are,” Jack said.

Robby lifted his brows. “Do you?” Jack’s mouth flattened. “I’m standing right here.”

“Great,” Robby said. “Then stand there husbandly and let me be her doctor.”

You turned your head slowly against Jack’s palm. “You’re both doctors.”

Robby leaned closer, careful as he checked your hand. “Only one of us is currently allowed to practice medicine on you.”

You looked at Jack. “I vote that one.” Jack closed his eyes. “Baby.”

Robby did not look up from your fingers. “Your vote has been received and rejected by the ethics committee.”

You frowned at him. “I don’t like the ethics committee.”

“The ethics committee is me,” Robby said.

You blinked at him. “That tracks.”

Santos made a tiny sound near the foot of the bed. Dana glanced at her. Santos pressed her lips together and looked at the floor.

Robby touched your fingers gently. “Can you wiggle these for me?” You wiggled them.

Robby nodded. “Good. Any numbness or tingling?”

You stared at him, still dazed. “Just in my dignity.”

“That is not innervated by the axillary nerve,” Robby said.

You blinked. “Show-off.”

Jack’s thumb moved over your cheek again. The motion was small. Your body noticed anyway.

Robby saw that too, because of course he did, but for once he did not comment.

Dana adjusted the sling on the tray beside the bed. “We’ll get her immobilized once Robby’s done checking you,” she said. Jack’s attention shifted to the sling. His jaw tightened by a fraction.

You saw it even through the medication. “You’re doing the face.”

Jack looked back down at you. “What face?”

“The face,” you said.

Robby glanced over. “Oh, I know the face.” Jack did not look at him. “No one asked you.”

Robby’s voice stayed light, but not careless. “It’s the face he makes when he wishes he could make it easier for you.”

Jack went quiet. So did you. Your fingers tightened around his. “You did,” you said.

Jack looked down at you. “What?” Your smile was small and drug-soft. “You made it easier.”

His thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah?”

You nodded, eyes glassy and sincere. “Yeah. Because you’re hot. And a doctor. And smart. And sexy. And my husband. And I love you.”

The room went very still. Jack’s face softened all at once.

Then you added, very seriously, “And you’re hot.”

Robby’s mouth opened. Dana looked at the monitor like it had become essential to her survival.

Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Is that all?”

You blinked up at him, exhausted and earnest. “No.” His mouth curved. “No?”

You shook your head once, barely. “But I’m tired and drugged.”

Jack’s expression warmed into something painfully fond. “Okay, baby.”

Robby pressed a hand to his chest. You swallowed, the edges of the room still warm and watery.

“And Eli?”

Robby’s expression gentled before the joke could get there.

“Megan called down while we were getting the films ordered. He’s okay.”

You stared at him. “She told him?”

“She told him,” Robby said. “His mom told him. He knows you’re not mad.”

You blinked hard. Jack’s hand tightened around yours.

Robby leaned a hip lightly against the counter, his voice quieter now. “He drew you a picture.”

Your throat closed. “He did?”

“Apparently it’s you with a cape,” Robby said.

Princess smiled from the computer. “And a very large arm.”

You made a sound that tried to be a laugh and almost became something else. “Is it anatomically correct?”

Robby looked at Princess. Princess shook her head. “Not even close.” You closed your eyes. “Good.”

Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles.

Your eyes burned again, but softer this time. “He doesn’t think I’m mad?”

Robby shook his head. “He thinks you’re a superhero.”

You went very still. Jack felt your hand tighten around his. Then your face crumpled. “Oh, no.”

Jack leaned in immediately. “Baby?” Your eyes filled too fast for you to stop them. “I’m leaking.”

Jack’s expression softened all at once. “You’re crying.”

“I know.” Your mouth trembled. “I don’t want to.”

“That’s okay,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Jack replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You sniffled. “It is in front of the day shift.”

Robby’s face softened from the counter. “Day shift can handle feelings.”

Santos looked suspiciously focused on the floor. Princess turned toward the computer, blinking too much.

Dana adjusted the sling on the tray without looking up. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said evenly, “day shift has seen worse.”

Your smile wobbled through the tears. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”

Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it reached your cheek. “Yeah, baby.”

You looked up at him, wet-eyed and overwhelmed. “He thinks I’m a superhero.”

Jack’s face changed. Not a lot. Enough to make you cry harder. “He’s right.”

Your chin trembled. “Jack.”

“He is,” Jack said, voice low. “You protected him.”

A tear slipped hot down your cheek. “I scared him.”

“You helped him.”

The words landed so gently that they hurt. You made a broken little sound and tried to wipe your face with your good hand, but Jack caught your fingers before you could tug at the IV.

“I’ve got it.” He brushed another tear away with his thumb.

You sniffed. “I’m leaking a lot.”

His mouth softened. “I know.”

You exhaled. “I hate this drug.”

“No, you don’t.” He smiled gently.

You thought about it, tears still sliding down your cheeks. “I kind of love this drug.”

Robby nodded from the counter. “There she is.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Let her leak.”

Dana smiled gently. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, crisp and even, “I’m going to help support your arm while we get this situated.”

Your eyes opened the rest of the way. A smile pulled at your mouth immediately, even through the tears.

Jack looked down at you. “There it is.” You blinked at him. “What?”

He brushed one knuckle lightly along your jaw. “That smile.”

You looked toward Dana, pleased and hazy. “She called me Mrs. Abbot again.”

Dana did not look up from the sling. “That is your name.”

Robby pointed at her. “You’re doing it on purpose.” Dana kept her hands steady. “I am doing my job.”

“You are weaponizing legal marriage,” Robby said.

Dana fitted the strap carefully behind your neck. “I am supporting patient cooperation.”

You sighed happily. “It is working.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “Clearly.”

Dana adjusted the sling around your injured arm. “This may pull a little.” Your smile vanished.

Jack saw it instantly. “Hey.”

“Nope,” you said.

His hand found your good one again. “Look at me.”

You frowned. “I already did that.”

“Do it again.”

You looked at him.

His eyes stayed steady on yours while Dana adjusted the last strap. There was a brief tug, a hot little spark of discomfort, and then your arm was held against you, supported and still.

You exhaled shakily. Jack’s thumb brushed once over your hand. “There you go.”

You swallowed. “I swore a lot.”

Jack’s mouth softened. “You were allowed.”

You leaned and whispered poorly. “In front of Dana.”

Dana stepped back from the sling. “I’ve heard worse, Mrs. Abbot.” Your smile came back immediately.

Jack glanced at Dana. “Therapeutic.”

Dana picked up the chart. “Accurate.”

Robby checked the sling with a quick glance, then nodded to Dana. “Looks good.”

Dana stepped back. “It’ll do until ortho tells her the same thing in a more expensive voice.”

Princess laughed under her breath. Santos rocked back on her heels.

“So she’s going home?” Santos asked.

Jack looked at Robby before Robby could answer, the same question reflected in his eyes

Robby lifted his brows. “You asking as her husband or as the night attending who has forgotten he is not on shift?”

Jack stared at him. “Husband.”

Robby smiled. “Good choice.”

Jack’s jaw flexed. “Robby.”

“We’ll watch her a bit after the follow-up films, make sure pain is controlled, then yes,” Robby said. “Home. Ice. Sling. Ortho follow-up. No lifting. No heroic catching of children for a while.”

You frowned at him. “That feels targeted.”

“It is,” Robby confirmed.

Your frown deepened. “Eli was falling.”

“And you caught him,” Robby said. “And now your shoulder is in a sling.”

You looked away. Jack’s voice softened. “You did good.”

You looked back up at him. “I broke myself.”

Jack shook his head. “You protected him.”

You pressed your lips together. “That sounds like something you say when I broke myself.”

Jack held your gaze. “It can be both.”

You considered him through the medication. “You’re very pretty when you’re reasonable.”

Robby made a wounded sound. “Not this again.”

Jack did not look away from you. “Thank you.”

Your smile went soft. “Sexy doctor husband.”

Jack lowered his head for half a second like he was gathering strength.

Dana picked up the chart. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”

Santos closed her mouth so fast her teeth clicked.

Princess turned toward the computer, shoulders shaking. Robby looked between Dana and the monitor.

“Therapeutic and preventative.”

Dana’s eyes flicked to him. “Exactly.”

Jack gave her a long look. “I don’t know whether to thank you or be concerned.”

“Both is usually safest,” Dana said.

A little while later, after the films confirmed what Robby already knew, after Princess brought discharge paperwork, after Santos was banished from asking any more questions about the wedding, the room finally thinned out.

Dana left with one last check of your sling and one more calm, devastating, “Take it easy, Mrs. Abbot.”

You smiled so hard your eyes closed.

Jack watched Dana go, then looked down at you. “She did that on purpose.”

You leaned into the pillow. “She likes me.”

“She likes making me suffer,” Jack said.

You nodded solemnly. “People contain multitudes.” Jack huffed a quiet laugh.

Robby came back with the discharge papers and a pen. “Okay,” he said. “Because apparently I am the only person in this room still committed to medicine.”

Jack was sitting beside your bed now, his sweatshirt back on but unzipped, one hand wrapped around yours. “You loved every second of this.”

Robby held up the paperwork. “I loved several medically relevant seconds of this.”

“You called me Magic Mike,” Jack said.

Robby nodded. “In a medically relevant context.”

“You threatened to chart targeted husband exposure,” Jack added.

“I still might,” Robby said.

Jack stared at him. Robby smiled. “I won’t.”

“You better not,” Jack warned.

“I’ll save it for the group chat,” Robby said with a shrug.

Jack’s expression went blank. “There is no group chat.”

Robby looked at you. “He thinks there’s no group chat.”

You turned to Jack, horrified. “You think there’s no group chat?”

Jack looked between you and Robby. “I hate this family.”

Your smile went dreamy. “You said family.”

Robby’s expression softened before he covered it with a cough.

Jack looked down at your joined hands. “I did.”

The air warmed around that. For one second, nobody ruined it.

Then Robby clicked the pen. “Anyway,” he said. “Sling stays on. Ice twenty minutes at a time. Pain meds as prescribed, not as creatively interpreted by the patient. Ortho follow-up within the week. No work until cleared.”

You opened your eyes. “No work?” Jack’s hand tightened.

Robby looked at you. “No work.”

“But peds is short,” you replied.

“Peds will survive,” Robby said.

You frowned. “You don’t know that.”

Robby leaned closer, his sarcasm gone soft around the edges. “I know you cannot care for children with a freshly reduced shoulder.”

You looked at Jack for backup. Jack shook his head. “No.”

“You didn’t even let me ask,” you said, brows furrowed.

Jack just gave you a look. “I know where you were going.”

“You always know where I’m going,” you sighed.

Jack shrugged. “Usually because it’s somewhere you shouldn’t.” Robby nodded. “Marriage.”

You sighed again and let your head fall back against the pillow. “This is oppressive.”

“This is discharge planning,” Robby said.

“Oppressive discharge planning,” you mumbled.

Jack stood slowly, keeping hold of your hand. You looked up at him. “We’re leaving?”

He nodded. “Soon.”

“Are you taking me home?” you asked, hopefully.

His expression softened. “Yeah, baby.”

Your whole face relaxed. “Good. I want that one.”

Robby pressed the paperwork to his chest. “She’s still doing it.”

Jack took the papers from him. “She’s on medication.”

He folded the paperwork and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

Robby watched him for a moment, the humor easing out of his face. “You good to get her home?”

Jack looked at you. You were blinking slowly, exhausted now, the adrenaline finally draining out of your body.

His voice gentled. “Yeah.”

Robby nodded. “Call me if anything changes.”

Jack met his eyes. “I will.”

The two men looked at each other for half a second longer than the words required.

You noticed even through the fog. “You two are having feelings.”

Robby looked down at you. “We are absolutely not.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “No feelings.”

“Lies,” you murmured.

Robby pointed at you. “Pain meds have made her too powerful.”

Jack helped you sit up carefully. The room tilted as soon as you moved. You made a small sound and grabbed for him with your good hand.

He was already there. One arm came around your waist, careful not to jostle the sling, his body solid beside yours. “I’ve got you.”

You leaned into him. “I know.”

That seemed to hit him somewhere. His hand spread warm at your side. Robby stepped closer, but Jack had you steady.

“Slow,” Jack said.

“I am slow,” you grumbled.

The room tilted. You caught Jack’s shirt with your good hand, and his arm came around your waist before you could wobble any farther.

His mouth twitched. “That’s why I said go slow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Smartass.”

Robby nodded from beside the bed. “Fair assessment.” Jack shot him a look.

“Supportive environment,” Robby said.

Jack eased you carefully off the bed. Your knees felt uncertain, and the room stayed too bright, but his arm held you steady.

Dana reappeared at the curtain like she had sensed movement. “You good?”

Jack nodded. “I’ve got her.”

Dana looked at you. “Mrs. Abbot?”

Your smile came back, sleepy and immediate.

“I’m good.”

Dana’s mouth barely moved. “Clearly.”

Robby narrowed his eyes at her. “You did it again.”

Dana checked the hallway. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You absolutely do.”

Jack adjusted his hold at your waist. “Can we leave before anyone learns anything else about my wedding?”

Princess, still at the computer, lifted one finger. “I have follow-up questions.”

“No,” Jack said.

Santos leaned against the counter. “I have several.”

Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Robby grinned. “I have photos.”

Jack went still. You gasped softly. “You have photos?”

Robby’s grin widened. “And videos.”

Jack pointed at him. “Delete them.”

“Never,” Robby responded immediately.

“You have videos of the dance?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

Robby gave you a look. “You think I would witness neurological history and not document it?”

Your eyes went glassy again. “Can you send them to me?”

Jack looked down at you. “Baby.”

“What? I was there. I should have them,” you defended yourself.

Robby tapped his phone. “Already sent.”

Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”

Your phone buzzed somewhere in the plastic belongings bag.

You looked up at Jack, delighted. “Brain chemistry.”

Dana held up one hand before Santos could speak. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”

Santos sighed. “I didn’t even say it.”

Dana looked at her. “You thought loudly.”

Jack shook his head and started guiding you toward the hallway. “We’re going home.”

You leaned into him, warm and sore and still floating enough that the ED lights looked like stars smeared across glass. “Home with you?”

Jack glanced down. His face softened. “Yeah.”

You smiled. “I picked good.”

This time, there were no monitors beeping too loud, no hands at your shoulder, no room full of witnesses waiting for the next outrageous thing you might say.

Just Jack’s hand at your waist, his body steady beside yours, his voice low near your ear.

“So did I.”