lover of men old enough to be my dad. lover of Noah Wyle, Shawn Hatsoy, Eric Bana, Josh Duhamel. lover of The Pitt, Untamed, Animal Kingdom, ER, Criminal Minds, Chicago Med, Chicago PD and Law and Order (SVU and Original) https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGirl18 Come see my works on AO3.
Writing the fic now where there's established Rabbot and Robby goes ahead with adopting/fostering the abandoned baby without consulting Jack. Jack doesn't have his freakout til later, he will freak for about five minutes before realizing his husband looks adorable with a baby in his arms, but first he needs to set some rules like therapy. What should baby girl's name be? I have some options listed but open to ideas.
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I need more of Jack just relentless pursuing Robby. Just like a dog with a bone. Robby isn't uninterested or anything, he's just not prepared for this level of attention from anyone. Jack is so ready to just lock Robby down for life and he is not letting anything stand in his way.
Most of Robby and Jack’s dates take place during the daytime because that’s when things are open, but Jack is practically nocturnal thanks to work, so occasionally Robby will stay up past his self imposed bed time so they can have a night date.
One night, they’re alone in the park, enjoying a picnic, when they see a shooting star.
Robby closes his eyes and wishes peace. When he opens his eyes, Jack is staring at him with a soft smile.
“Did you make a wish?”
Jack’s smile grows and he shrugs. He places a gentle kiss on Robby’s cheek. “What more could I ask for?”
Request - Hello lovely! Could you do one where the reader is just needy/clingy with Robby? In a cute way? As a needy gal myself, Robby brings it out in me 🙈🫶
The emergency department was loud. Not trauma-level loud. Just… emergency department loud. Phones ringing. Monitors chirping. Residents asking questions. Nurses trying to hunt down physicians who had mysteriously vanished the second someone needed a signature. In other words…
Tuesday.
You’d had the day off. Robby hadn’t. Which meant you had exactly one mission after finishing a late lunch with Dana. Annoy your boyfriend.
“I don’t know why you encourage this,” Dana muttered as the two of you stepped through the ambulance entrance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She snorted.
“Sure.”
You spotted him almost immediately. Robby stood at the central nurses’ station, glasses perched low on his nose as he reviewed lab work. His white coat was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. There was the familiar crease between his eyebrows that only appeared when he was charting or contemplating homicide. Probably charting. Hopefully. A resident was rambling through a patient presentation while Robby stared at the computer screen.
“Mhm.”
Another pause.
“Mhm.”
The resident kept talking.
“Mhm.”
Dana leaned toward you.
“I don’t think he’s heard a damn word.”
“He hasn’t.”
“You gonna fix that?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Without another word, you wandered over. You didn’t interrupt. Didn’t announce yourself. You simply slid into the narrow space beside him and rested your chin on his shoulder. His pen stopped moving.
“…Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You stalking me?”
“Maybe.”
The resident glanced between the two of you, suddenly unsure whether to continue presenting.Robby sighed.
“Finish, Whitaker.”
Dennis blinked.
“…Uh…”
You smiled politely.
“Sorry. Pretend I’m furniture.”
The poor kid looked even more confused. Robby finally turned his head just enough to glance at you.
“You’ve been here exactly seven seconds.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re already attached to me.”
“Mhm.”
“…Why?”
You shrugged.
“I missed you.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“That was…” You pretended to calculate. “Like… six whole hours ago.”
He made a face.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You like me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“You love me.”
“I’ve never admitted that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. But you caught it. Victory. Whitaker awkwardly cleared his throat.
“…Should I…”
Robby looked back at him.
“Continue.”
The poor guy launched back into his presentation while you remained exactly where you were, chin resting comfortably against Robby’s shoulder. You didn’t say another word. You were simply… there. Halfway through discussing antibiotics, Robby’s free hand absentmindedly found yours.
He didn’t even seem to realize he’d done it. His fingers laced through yours automatically while his attention remained on the patient in front of him. Dana walked by just in time to see it. She barked out a laugh.
“You two are fucking ridiculous.”
Neither of you looked up.
******
By four o’clock, the emergency department had settled into one of those rare lulls that everyone knew wouldn’t last. Robby finally escaped to the physician workroom with a cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour earlier. You followed. Of course you did. He hadn’t even sat down before you appeared in the doorway.
“You again?”
You smiled innocently.
“What?”
“Were you waiting outside?”
“…Maybe.”
He dropped into the chair with a groan.
“My God.”
“What?”
“I have a stalker.”
“You have a girlfriend.”
“Same thing.”
You wandered behind him while he logged into the computer. Then, without warning…You wrapped both arms around his shoulders from behind. Not tightly. Just enough that your forearms rested across his chest while your cheek found the top of his head.
He froze for exactly one second. Then continued typing.
“…Comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“You planning on staying there?”
“Mhm.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know I have to work.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I can hug you while you work.”
He sighed dramatically.
“Jesus Christ.”
But he leaned back ever so slightly into your embrace.
“You know…” You smiled against his hair.
“What?”
“You complain an awful lot for someone who hasn’t told me to let go.”
“I’ve accepted my fate.”
“Which is?”
“I’m apparently dating a koala.”
You gasped.
“A koala?”
“Mhm.”
“I was hoping for something majestic.”
“You climbed onto me twenty minutes ago.”
“I leaned.”
“You’ve been touching me for the better part of an hour.”
“I like touching you.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It makes my brain happy.”
That answer made him stop typing. He turned his head enough to look up at you. Your expression was completely sincere. No teasing. No joking. Just… honesty. He reached up and gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.
“You had a rough week?”
You nodded once.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I just…” You smiled sheepishly. “I’ve missed my person.”
Something softened in his eyes immediately. Without another word, he reached behind himself, caught your wrist gently, and tugged. You stumbled around the chair with a surprised laugh.
“What are you—”
Before you finished the sentence, he pulled you sideways until you landed across his lap.
“You weigh approximately six pounds.”
“I do not.”
“Close enough.”
You laughed as your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.
“There.” He rested his chin against the top of your head. “Better?”
“So much.”
“Mhm.”
“You gonna let me finish charting?”
“Probably not.”
“I figured.”
The workroom door opened. Frank Langdon walked in carrying two charts. He stopped dead in his tracks. Looked at the two of you. Looked at the clock. Then looked back.
“…Are you kidding me?”
Neither of you moved. Robby didn’t even lift his head.
“No.”
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You know there are chairs.”
“There are.”
“So why is she in your lap?”
Robby answered without missing a beat.
“Because she wanted to be.”
Frank stared at him.
“…That’s your explanation?”
“Mhm.”
“You realize both of you are attendings.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re acting like you’re seventeen.”
“Mhm.”
Frank looked toward you for help. You simply smiled.
“I like him.”
Frank threw one hand into the air.
“I can see that.”
He turned to leave, muttering under his breath.
“I swear to God this hospital is becoming one giant HR complaint.”
The door closed behind him. You started giggling. Robby finally laughed too, the deep, quiet laugh that almost never escaped him at work.
“You happy now?”
You nodded against his shoulder.
“Mhm.”
He kissed the top of your head.
“Good.”
“You know…”
“What?”
“I think you’re secretly clingy too.”
He scoffed.
“Absolutely not.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So if I got up right now…”
“I’d finish my chart.”
You slowly lifted yourself an inch off his lap. His hand immediately settled against the small of your back. Holding you there. You raised an eyebrow.
“…Really?”
He looked down at where his hand had landed. There was a long pause. Then he sighed.
“…Don’t.”
A grin spread across your face.
“I knew it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He rolled his eyes so dramatically it should’ve hurt.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet…” You settled right back against him, smiling as he automatically tightened his arm around your waist. “…Here I still am.”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah… yeah, you are.”
And despite all his grumbling, not once—not for a single second—did he actually let you go.
******
If there was one thing everyone at PTMC had learned over the years, it was that Dr. Michael Robinavitch looked perpetually irritated. Even when he was perfectly happy. His neutral expression made medical students question their career choices. His focused expression made residents apologize for things they hadn’t even done. And his genuinely annoyed expression…Well. People tended to scatter.
It made your favorite hobby all the more entertaining. Because underneath all that perpetual grumpiness…He was unbelievably soft. Just not for anyone else.
“You know,” Dana said one afternoon as she watched you standing at the coffee machine, “you’re about to become public enemy number one.”
You glanced over your shoulder.
“Why?”
She nodded toward the trauma bay.
“Because your boyfriend has been in back-to-back traumas for four hours.”
“So?”
“So he’s in one of those moods.”
You peeked through the glass doors. Sure enough…There he was. Hair a mess from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it. Glasses shoved into the pocket of his scrub top. Jaw clenched. He was listening to a surgical consult with all the enthusiasm of someone getting a root canal without anesthesia.
“Oh…”
You smiled.
“He needs me.”
Dana barked out a laugh.
“No, ma’am. He needs a nap.”
“Those are basically the same thing.”
“They are absolutely not.”
You grabbed your coffee anyway.
“I’m going in.”
Dana leaned back against the counter.
“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you make him smile.”
“You owe me money.”
“We’ll see.”
The trauma consult finally ended. Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Anything else?”
The surgical resident wisely shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
The resident disappeared like he’d escaped prison. Robby exhaled slowly.
“Christ…”
His back hurt. His head hurt. Someone had somehow spilled coffee on one of his favorite pens. He’d been yelled at by a patient’s family because the CT scanner wasn’t magically instantaneous. He was running forty-five minutes behind on charting. He wanted approximately ten minutes where no one spoke to him.
“Hi.”
He looked up. There you were. Holding two coffees. Smiling like you hadn’t a single stressful thought in your head. His shoulders relaxed before he could stop them.
“…Hello.”
“I brought you coffee.”
“I already had coffee.”
You looked at the cold cup sitting beside the computer.
“That?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s iced coffee now.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“I figured.”
You slid the fresh cup toward him. He accepted it without argument.
“Thanks.”
“You look grumpy.”
“I am grumpy.”
“I know.”
“You enjoying this?”
“A little.”
“You should probably seek therapy.”
“I already have you.”
He looked at you over the rim of the cup.
“…That was smooth.”
“I know.”
You leaned against the counter beside him. Neither of you spoke for a minute. You simply stood shoulder to shoulder while he drank his coffee. To everyone else…It looked uneventful. To you? It was your favorite kind of intimacy. Just existing beside him. Eventually he sighed.
“I’ve got another twelve charts.”
“I know.”
“Three admissions.”
“Mhm.”
“And Dana keeps threatening to assign me residents.”
You gasped dramatically.
“The horror.”
“I’d rather fight a bear.”
“I’ve met some of your residents.”
“They’re exhausting.”
“So are you.”
“They’re exhausting differently.”
You laughed.
“I’ll give you that.”
The overhead speaker interrupted.
“Dr. Robinavitch to Room Eight.”
He closed his eyes.
“…Of course.”
He made no move to leave. You nudged his shoulder.
“Go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“You come with me.”
It wasn’t even phrased like a question. You smiled.
“Bossing me around now?”
“I’m inviting you.”
“That sounded suspiciously like an order.”
“It was an invitation with authority.”
You laughed.
“Okay, Chief.”
He started toward Room Eight. You fell into step beside him. Naturally. Halfway there, without thinking, your hand slipped around his forearm. Not because you needed help walking. Not because you were trying to make a statement. You just…Liked holding onto him. He glanced down.
“You know…”
“What?”
“We’re walking twenty feet.”
“I know.”
“I don’t disappear if you let go.”
“I know.”
“So why are you hanging onto my arm?”
You looked up at him like the answer was obvious.
“Because it’s attached to you.”
He stared at you for a beat.
“…That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
You grinned.
“But you smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I exhaled.”
“You smiled with your lungs?”
“Exactly.”
“Medical miracle.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You love me.”
“I’ve made questionable decisions.”
“You proposed.”
“That was one of them.”
You laughed so loudly that a passing nurse looked over.
“You are such an asshole.”
“And yet…” He slowed just enough for you to catch back up after nearly laughing yourself breathless. “…You’re still holding onto me.”
The patient in Room Eight turned out to have the flu. Nothing dramatic. Just a miserable forty-year-old man convinced he was on death’s doorstep. By the time the exam was finished, you’d somehow ended up perched on the edge of the counter while Robby finished documenting. The patient watched the two of you with narrowed eyes.
“You married?”
You answered first.
“Not yet.”
“Engaged?”
“Mhm.”
The man looked between you.
“I can tell.”
Robby didn’t look up from the computer.
“How?”
The patient shrugged.
“My wife follows me around the house like that.”
You blinked.
“…Like what?”
He pointed at you.
“You keep finding reasons to touch him.”
You looked down. Your hand was resting lightly against the middle of Robby’s back. You hadn’t even realized.
“Oh.”
The patient chuckled.
“My Linda does that.”
You smiled.
“Really?”
“Thirty-seven years.”
He grinned weakly.
“If she’s in the room…” He shrugged. “…She’s touching me somehow.”
Silence settled for a second. Then the man looked directly at Robby.
“Enjoy it.”
Robby paused his typing. The patient continued quietly.
“One day you’ll walk into a room…and nobody’ll be there reaching for you.”
The room became unexpectedly still. The humor dissolved. You watched Robby’s expression change almost imperceptibly. Something thoughtful flickered behind his eyes. He finished the discharge instructions before helping the patient up.
“Take the antiviral.”
“I will.”
“Drink water.”
“My wife’ll make me.”
“Good.”
The patient smiled.
“You’ve got a good one, Doc.”
Robby glanced toward you.
“…Yeah.” His answer came softly. “I know.”
Later that evening, the department finally settled down enough that the two of you found yourselves walking toward the parking garage together. The heat had finally given way to a warm summer breeze. You instinctively slipped your hand into his. He didn’t say anything. Just intertwined his fingers with yours. After a minute, you looked over.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Mhm.”
“You okay?”
He nodded once.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
Another few steps passed. Then, completely out of nowhere, he stopped walking. You turned toward him.
“What?”
Instead of answering…He reached out. Straightened the collar of your scrub. Brushed an imaginary speck of dust from your shoulder. Then rested his hand gently against the side of your face for just a second. You smiled.
“What was that for?”
He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed.
“Nothing.”
“Robby.”
His eyes met yours.
“I guess…” He cleared his throat. “…I never really thought about why you do it.”
“Do what?”
“The touching.”
You tilted your head.
“It makes me feel close to you.”
“I know.”
“And I like knowing you’re there.”
He looked down at your joined hands.
“I think…” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “…maybe I like knowing you’re there too.”
Your entire face softened.
“Oh?”
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t make a thing out of it.”
“So you admit it?”
“I admitted nothing.”
“You literally just—”
“I said I tolerate your clinginess.”
“You said you liked it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
You stepped closer, slipping both arms around his waist.
“Liar.”
He sighed with theatrical annoyance.
“Jesus…”
But both of his arms wrapped around you immediately, pulling you snug against his chest.
“You know what’s funny?” you murmured.
“What?”
“You’ve been hugging me this whole conversation.”
He looked down.
“…Huh.”
“You gonna let go?”
He thought about it. Then tightened his embrace instead.
“…No.”
You smiled into the fabric of his scrub top.
“I knew it.”
He kissed the top of your head with a grumble that lacked even the slightest hint of annoyance.
“Don’t get used to winning.”
You laughed.
“Too late.”
And with one arm still draped securely around your shoulders, the two of you walked the rest of the way to the parking garage—looking, as Dana would later describe it, “like two people who’d forgotten personal space existed.” Neither of you minded one bit.
******
The shift had been absolute bullshit from the moment you’d walked through the doors. Not catastrophic. Not traumatic. Just… one of those days where every patient seemed angry before you even introduced yourself.
The woman in Room Nine insisted you were withholding pain medication because you “looked too young to be a real doctor.” A man with a sprained ankle screamed at one of the nurses because his discharge paperwork was taking “too fucking long.” Someone threw up in the hallway. Someone else somehow managed to clog the staff bathroom. And just before lunch, one of your pediatric patients had looked at you with huge watery eyes and asked if his mommy was going to die.
She wasn’t. But explaining that to a terrified seven-year-old had taken a bigger piece out of you than you wanted to admit. By six o’clock, your social battery had officially flatlined. You found Robby in the physician workroom. He was exactly where you expected him to be.
Feet propped on the desk. Reading through imaging reports. Coffee sitting forgotten beside the keyboard. Glasses sliding halfway down his nose. He looked up as you walked in. One glance at your face. That was all it took.
“…Bad day?”
You nodded once.
“Mhm.”
“Anything explode?”
“Not literally.”
“That’s usually a positive.”
“Mhm.”
He watched you for another second.
“You okay?”
Instead of answering…You walked straight over to him. He frowned.
“What’re you—”
You simply climbed into his lap. Not gracefully. One knee on either side of his hips, arms immediately wrapping around his neck before you buried your face against the side of his throat. He let out an amused grunt as the chair rolled back an inch.
“…Jesus Christ.”
No answer. Only your forehead pressing more firmly into the warm skin beneath his jaw. He rested one hand automatically against your lower back to steady you.
“…baby.”
“Mhm.”
“You realize we’re at work.”
“Mhm.”
“You are currently sitting on the chief attending of emergency medicine.”
“Mhm.”
“Very professional.”
“Mhm.”
He sighed dramatically.
“I date a raccoon.”
“You date a koala.”
“I’ve upgraded you.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“I’m sad.”
“I know.”
“I don’t wanna doctor anymore today.”
“I know.”
“You know a lot.”
“I’ve been listening.”
His fingers began slowly rubbing circles across the small of your back. The movement was absentminded. Instinctive. Like breathing. Neither of you spoke for nearly a minute. You just stayed there.
His heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. The smell of coffee and laundry detergent lingering on his scrub top. One of his hands resting protectively against your waist while the other continued lazily scratching up and down your spine. It was enough to make your shoulders finally unclench.
“…Better?” he asked quietly.
“A little.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I just wanted you.”
His heart squeezed. “…Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“You got me.”
Another long silence. You breathed him in.
“I love you.”
The words were muffled by his neck. He smiled to himself.
“I had a feeling.”
“No…” You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “I mean…”
Your eyes looked exhausted.
“I don’t need advice.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need someone to fix it.”
“I know.”
“I just needed my favorite person.”
Something softened so completely in his expression it almost didn’t look like Robby anymore. He reached up and brushed his thumb beneath one of your eyes.
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
The workroom door swung open. Dana walked in carrying three patient charts. She froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Neither of you moved. She stared.
“You two have become insufferable.”
You smiled over your shoulder.
“Hi, Dana.”
“What exactly is happening?”
You answered honestly.
“I’m emotionally regulating.”
Dana blinked.
“…By sitting on your fiancé?”
“Mhm.”
She looked at Robby.
“And you’re allowing this?”
He looked genuinely confused.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. Tell her no.”
He looked down at you. You had already curled even closer against him. He looked back at Dana.
“…I physically can’t.”
Dana laughed so hard she nearly dropped the charts.
“Oh my God. You are so whipped.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve become a human recliner.”
“I’ve accepted it.”
She shook her head.
“I’m telling Langdon.”
“Go ahead.”
“He’ll make fun of you.”
“He already does.”
Almost as if summoned…Frank walked through the doorway. He stopped. Looked at the two of you. Closed his eyes.
“No.”
Dana immediately pointed.
“I didn’t do this.”
Frank opened one eye.
“Robinavitch.”
“Mhm.”
“Why is your fiancée in your lap?”
Robby answered without hesitation.
“She had a hard day.”
Frank waited.
“…And?”
“And she wanted a hug.”
“So you sat her down?”
“She sat herself down.”
Frank looked at you.
“Is this accurate?”
You nodded.
“I climbed.”
Frank sighed toward the ceiling.
“I spent twelve years helping people.”
Neither of you responded.
“I’ve worked mass casualty incidents.”
Still nothing.
“I once intubated someone in the back of a moving ambulance.”
Robby nodded.
“I remember.”
“And somehow…” Frank gestured toward the two of you. “…this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen.”
You couldn’t help laughing.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“…No.”
“I didn’t think so.” He looked back at Robby. “You know…”
“What?”
“You could put her down.”
Robby frowned.
“…She’s not a backpack.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked down at you again. You had somehow managed to tuck your face back into his neck without anyone noticing. One of your hands lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your breathing had slowed. Your entire body had gone wonderfully, comfortably limp. He smiled. Just a tiny one. Barely there. Then he looked back at Frank.
“I could.”
Frank waited. Robby shrugged.
“…Don’t really want to.”
The room went completely silent. Dana’s jaw dropped. Frank stared. You looked up slowly.
“…Wait.”
Your eyebrows shot toward your hairline.
“What?”
Robby’s eyes widened slightly.
“…Shit.”
Dana pointed dramatically.
“He admitted it!”
Frank immediately chimed in.
“I heard it too.”
“I…” Robby rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s not…”
Dana was already halfway out the door.
“I’m getting the residents.”
“No!”
Frank followed her.
“This deserves witnesses.”
“For the love of God…”
Within thirty seconds, half a dozen residents were suddenly finding reasons to walk through the physician workroom. Dana stood in the doorway grinning like she’d won the lottery.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” She announced far louder than necessary. “…Dr. Robinavitch has officially admitted he likes affection.”
A chorus of dramatic gasps filled the room. One resident whispered, “Holy shit.” Another muttered, “I thought he reproduced through mitosis.” Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I hate every single one of you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Dana said sweetly.
“I absolutely do.”
You finally slid off his lap, only to immediately stand beside him and lace your fingers through his. He looked down. Then, without thinking, Squeezed your hand. Dana noticed. Of course she noticed. She pointed again.
“There!”
“What?”
“The hand!”
“What hand?”
“You’re holding her hand!”
Robby looked down. Sure enough…He was. Completely unconsciously. He closed his eyes.
“…Goddammit.”
The room erupted into laughter. You looked up at him with the biggest, sappiest smile he’d ever seen.
“So…”
“What.”
“I think…”
He already knew.
“…don’t.”
“…you might be just as clingy as me.”
He looked at the ceiling as though asking for divine intervention.
“I am never beating these allegations.”
You leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek.
“Nope.”
He let out one long, dramatically suffering sigh. Then, with every resident watching…He slipped his arm around your waist anyway. Because apparently the allegations were true.
******
By the time the two of you got home that evening, the laughter from the emergency department had followed you all the way to the parking garage. Dana had texted.
Congratulations on coming out as affectionate.
Robby had immediately responded.
Go to hell.
Two seconds later…
❤️
He’d locked his phone.
“I hate her.”
You laughed from the passenger seat.
“No, you don’t.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You invited her to our barbecue last weekend.”
“That was a lapse in judgment.”
“You made her a burger.”
“I was being polite.”
“You gave her the last brownie.”
He shot you a look.
“I was manipulated.”
“You were.”
“I know.”
You reached over the center console and rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t comment. He simply turned his arm over so your fingers naturally slipped into his palm. Like always.
The house greeted you with the familiar sounds of home. The hum of the refrigerator. The air conditioner kicking on. Your golden retriever trotting enthusiastically toward the front door, tail wagging so hard her entire back end swayed with it.
“There she is,” you cooed, dropping to your knees.
The dog immediately shoved her head beneath your chin, demanding attention. Robby hung both of your jackets by the door before scratching behind the dog’s ears.
“You’ve created a monster.”
You looked up.
“Which one?”
He looked between you and the dog.
“Exactly.”
You laughed.
“She’s just affectionate.”
“So are you.”
“I’ve never knocked you over trying to say hello.”
“You’ve come close.”
“I absolutely have not.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“You literally launched yourself into my lap today.”
“…That was different.”
“How?”
“I was emotionally delicate.”
“You looked more like a flying squirrel.”
You gasped dramatically.
“First I’m a koala.”
“Mhm.”
“Then a raccoon.”
“Mhm.”
“Now a flying squirrel?”
“I’m workshopping.”
“You suck.”
“I’ve been told.”
Dinner ended up being takeout because neither of you felt like cooking. Chinese food. Sweatpants. Hair pulled back. The television playing some documentary neither of you were actually watching. Robby stretched out across one end of the couch with a tired groan.
“My feet hurt.”
“You’ve been standing for fourteen hours.”
“My back hurts.”
“You’re getting old.”
He looked over.
“I’m forty-nine.”
“Ancient.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“You’ll forget by tomorrow, Grandpa.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You are the worst.”
You smiled sweetly.
“I know.”
He picked up the remote. The movie had barely started before you quietly slid across the couch. One cushion. Then another. Until your thigh rested against his. He didn’t look away from the television.
“…Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You’ve migrated.”
“It’s a big couch.”
“It was.”
“It still is.”
“You’ve somehow occupied my half.”
“I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
“It is when you’re determined.”
You smiled to yourself. You waited another thirty seconds. Then you gently tucked your feet beneath one of his legs. His eyes flickered toward you.
“…baby.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to merge into me?”
“No.”
Another minute passed. Then your head slowly found his shoulder.
“Mhm.”
“What?”
“The final form.”
You laughed quietly.
“I like your shoulder.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It smells like you.”
“I’ve definitely noticed.”
He sounded completely deadpan. You tilted your head enough to look up at him.
“Are you actually annoyed?”
He looked down at you. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder. Your eyes looked sleepy. Your hair was a mess from taking it out of its ponytail. You looked…Happy. Safe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you look so completely at ease.
“No.”
His answer was quiet.
“I’m not.”
You smiled.
“Good.”
“You know…”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“I know.”
“You really are attached to me a lot.”
“Mhm.”
“You follow me around the house.”
“Mhm.”
“You sit beside me when I read.”
“Mhm.”
“You steal ninety percent of my hoodies.”
“They smell like you.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I mean it.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“I know.”
Silence settled between you again. The documentary continued playing to absolutely no audience. The dog sighed dramatically from her bed across the room. Outside, the wind rattled softly against the windows. Eventually, Robby spoke again.
“I have a question.”
You hummed.
“When did this start?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“The…” He motioned vaguely toward the two of you. “…constant need to be touching me.”
You were quiet for a long moment. Long enough that he thought maybe you weren’t going to answer. Then you reached down and absentmindedly traced circles across the back of his hand.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
You sighed softly.
“I think…” You searched for the right words. “…I think it’s because you’re the only place my brain ever gets quiet.”
He turned toward you completely. You continued staring at your fingers where they rested against his hand.
“Work is loud.”
“Mhm.”
“My thoughts are loud.”
“Mhm.”
“The world is loud.” Another small shrug. “But when I’m touching you…”
You smiled sheepishly.
“…everything gets still.”
Robby felt something twist painfully inside his chest. He’d expected something teasing. Something silly. Not that.
“You make me feel…” You looked up at him. “…home.”
The room fell wonderfully silent. He reached up and gently brushed a piece of hair away from your face.
“You should’ve told me that.”
You smiled.
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“No.” He admitted quietly. “I guess you didn’t.”
Without another word, he set the remote down on the coffee table. Then he shifted. Until he was sitting farther down the couch. You frowned.
“What’re you doing?”
He patted his thigh.
“Come here.”
A grin spread across your face.
“I thought I was already here.”
“I have a better idea.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice. You climbed sideways into his lap, tucking your legs over the arm of the couch as your arms naturally settled around his neck. He wrapped one arm around your waist. The other rested across your back. Holding you securely. Comfortably. Like he’d done it a thousand times. You sighed happily.
“There she is,” he murmured.
“What?”
“My koala.”
You smiled into the side of his neck.
“I thought I was a flying squirrel.”
“I’ve narrowed it down.”
“I appreciate the scientific process.”
“It was rigorous.”
You laughed.
“I bet.”
Another comfortable silence settled over the room. The television continued playing forgotten in the background. Your breathing gradually slowed. Then slowed some more. Until Robby realized you were asleep. Just like that. Curled against him. One hand still loosely gripping the front of his T-shirt. He looked down at you and couldn’t help smiling.
“You know…” he whispered, mostly to himself. “…I think they all have it backwards.”
The dog lazily lifted her head.
“They think you’re the clingy one.” He gently kissed the top of your head. “I just never have the heart to tell them…”
His arm tightened ever so slightly around your sleeping body.
“…that I don’t actually want you to let go.”
He stayed exactly where he was for the next hour, long after the movie had ended and the credits had rolled. His leg fell asleep. His back started aching again. His phone buzzed twice on the coffee table. He ignored all of it.
Because the woman he loved was sleeping peacefully against his chest. And as far as Robby was concerned there were far worse ways to spend an evening than being someone’s favorite place to call home.
******
If anyone had asked Dr. Michael Robinavitch how he was doing that morning…He would’ve answered exactly the way he always did.
“Fine.”
It was automatic.
Resident: “Morning, Dr. Robinavitch.”
“Mhm.”
Nurse: “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
Frank: “You look like shit.”
“I always look like this.”
Business as usual. Except…You knew him. Really knew him. And the moment he walked into the emergency department, you knew something was off. He wasn’t grumpy. He wasn’t sarcastic. He wasn’t muttering under his breath about administration or broken printers or emergency medicine as a profession.
He was… Quiet. Not physically. Emotionally. The kind of quiet that only happened when something was hurting. You watched him through morning rounds. He answered every question correctly. He taught the residents. He examined patients. He signed charts. He smiled exactly once when an elderly woman flirted shamelessly with him.
To everyone else, Dr. Robinavitch was having a perfectly normal day. To you, He hadn’t looked your way once.Not because he was avoiding you. Because his mind wasn’t here. Around noon, you finally cornered Frank outside Radiology.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Frank didn’t even pretend not to know who you meant. He sighed.
“…Today’s the anniversary.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
His mother. She’d been gone for years. Robby rarely talked about it. When he did, it was always brief. Matter-of-fact. As if keeping the words short somehow kept the grief manageable. Frank leaned against the wall.
“He’ll get through the shift.”
“I know.”
“He always does.”
You nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Frank looked toward the trauma bay where Robby stood reviewing imaging with two residents.
“He’ll never ask for company.”
“I know.”
“…But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.”
For the rest of the afternoon, you didn’t smother him. You didn’t hover. You simply…Stayed close. If he walked to Radiology you somehow found yourself needing Radiology too. If he stopped for coffee you happened to be headed toward the coffee machine. If he sat down to chart you quietly took the chair beside him instead of across the room.
Neither of you said much. You simply existed beside him. Every now and then your knee brushed his beneath the desk. Your shoulder bumped his in the hallway. Your fingers found his for a few seconds before another patient pulled you away.
Tiny reminders. I’m here. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.
Around six that evening, the emergency department finally slowed enough that the two of you walked toward the parking garage together. The sky was streaked orange and pink. The summer heat had finally begun to fade. You unlocked your car. He unlocked his truck. You looked at each other.
“You wanna come to my place?” you asked gently.
He hesitated. Normally he’d tease you. Normally he’d say something sarcastic. Instead…
“…Yeah.”
Just one word. Quiet. Tired. You nodded.
“Okay.”
Dinner was grilled cheese and tomato soup. Mostly because neither of you had the energy to cook anything more elaborate. You ate at the kitchen island in comfortable silence. When the dishes were done, you wandered into the living room.
Usually this was where you’d migrate toward him. Find his shoulder. Steal his lap. Wrap yourself around him like an affectionate octopus. Tonight you stayed on your end of the couch. Not because you didn’t want to touch him. Because you were waiting. Giving him room.
He sat down with a quiet groan, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the dark television screen. The room stayed silent. One minute. Two. Three. You let it.
Then without looking at you He quietly spoke.
“…Come here.”
Your heart squeezed. Not because of the words. Because of how softly he’d said them. You smiled.
“You sure?”
He nodded once.
“Mhm.”
You stood and crossed the room. Instead of automatically climbing into his lap like you usually would, you stopped in front of him.
“What do you need?”
For a long moment He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
“I don’t know.”
Your heart broke.
“I just…” He rubbed both hands over his face. “…Don’t want to be by myself tonight.”
You didn’t say a word. You simply stepped between his knees. Slid your arms around his shoulders. And hugged him. Really hugged him. Not playfully. Not teasingly. Held him.
For several seconds, he didn’t move. Then very slowly…his forehead came to rest against your stomach. His arms circled your waist. He let out a long, shaky breath. You began running your fingers through his hair. Slowly. Patiently. The way he’d done for you so many times before.
Neither of you spoke. The room didn’t need words. After another minute, you felt him melt. His shoulders finally dropped. The tension he’d been carrying all day slowly draining away beneath your hands. You leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
“I’ve got you.”
His fingers tightened against your back.
“I know.”
Another few minutes passed. Then he quietly admitted, “I went to call her today.”
Your hand stilled in his hair.
“When I got in the truck for lunch.”
His voice sounded almost embarrassed.
“I picked up my phone.”
A sad smile crossed your face.
“…Habit.”
“Mhm.”
“I realized halfway through dialing.”
Silence.
“I still do it sometimes.”
You felt tears sting your own eyes.
“Oh, Robby.”
“I know she’s gone.”
“I know.”
“But every once in a while…” He swallowed hard. “…I forget.”
You carefully tipped his chin upward until he looked at you. There were tears sitting quietly in his eyes. He wasn’t crying. Not quite. But he wasn’t hiding anymore either. You cupped his face with both hands.
“I wish I’d met her.”
A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“She would’ve loved you.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
He laughed quietly through his nose.
“She would’ve taken your side in every argument.”
“Naturally.”
“She would’ve called me an idiot.”
“You are one sometimes.”
“Mhm.”
His smile lingered for just a second before fading again.
“I miss her.”
You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his.
“I know.”
“I hate today.”
“I know.”
“I hate that every year it sneaks up on me.”
“I know.”
He closed his eyes.
“I just…” His voice cracked almost imperceptibly.“…wanted someone.”
Your heart completely caved in. Without another word, you climbed into his lap. This time not because you needed him. Because he needed you.
His arms wrapped around you immediately. Tightly. Almost desperately. You tucked his head beneath your chin and resumed playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers traced slow circles across his back. Every now and then, you pressed a gentle kiss into his temple.
“You know what’s funny?” you whispered after a while.
“What?”
“I always thought I was the clingy one.”
He let out a tired huff that almost resembled a laugh.
“You are.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
“Then what’s this?”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“…This is different.”
“How?”
He looked up at you. There was no embarrassment anymore. No attempt to hide behind sarcasm. Just honesty.
“…You’re home.”
The words stole your breath. He rested his forehead against yours again.
“And today…” His thumb stroked absentmindedly across your side. “…I really needed to come home.”
Your eyes filled instantly.
“You know…” You smiled through the tears. “I distinctly remember someone calling me a koala.”
“I stand by that.”
“And a barnacle.”
“Mhm.”
“And a flying squirrel.”
“Also true.”
You laughed softly.
“So what does that make you?”
He thought about it. Then, with the smallest smile, “…A hypocrite.”
You burst into laughter. Real laughter. The kind that made him smile too. You kissed him once. Twice. Then rested your forehead against his.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“What’s that?”
“You never have to ask me twice.”
His expression softened.
“For what?”
You brushed your nose gently against his.
“For this.”
You tightened your arms around him just a little more.
“For me.”
He closed his eyes and held you as though he’d been trying not to all day.
“Deal.”
And if anyone at PTMC had walked into the house that evening, they would’ve laughed themselves sick. Because the notoriously stoic, chronically grumpy, emotionally constipated Chief of Emergency Medicine was sitting on his own couch…Clinging to his fiancée with both arms. And he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
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Okay so Jack and Robby mysteriously de-age. Separately, not at the same time. Their medical knowledge is still intact but the rest of their memories beyond their late 20's (the age they are now) is gone.
Jack is pretty much the same only somehow more intense but they learn to roll with it pretty quick. Robby of course, is very changed. Somehow their tired, methodical, maybe cracks 3 jokes on good day chief of the ER is an active 29 year old again. There's life in his eyes. He's making jokes. He's moveing around the ED like sitting still might kill him. No one knows what to do with the golden retriever puppy who was once their head attending.
Except for Jack. Who had a crush on Robby back then but kind of buried it for the army and then fell for his wife and you know the story. Now he's told all those hang ups don't matter any more. He grieves a little for his lost wife but he's glad to know they had a good life together. And now he's gonna get himself a piece of that golden boy that became head of the ED.
synopsisyou and Trinity decide you've had enough of being the casual booty call, agreeing to play hard to get to prove to your partners you can go without them. easier said then done
warningsmut. oral (f! receiving) fingering, language, pinv, unprotected sex, MDNI. slight praise kink. no use of y/n
authornotethe way in which i need to be driven mad by this man using me is concerning to feminism
main masterlist. other Robby fic
“I don't get it!” said Santos for... well, you had no idea how many times she'd repeated herself but you were considering making it a drinking game. Every time she said she 'didn't understand' you resolved to take a shot. “I thought we were fine, doing great and casual- what- what is casual?”
Whitaker's hand hesitated in the air like they were in class. “Well I think by casual she means-”
“I know what casual means, Fuckle-berry,” said Santos quickly. “But it was casual now it's just weird.”
You nodded along, humming.
She groaned, hands running through her hair in frustration. “I don't get it!”
You took a long gulp of your wine.
“How do you handle it?” Trinity asked, arms wide in question at you.
“Me?”
“Yeah, how do you and Robby do casual?”
“Oh- we... it's- um-” you stumbled over your words, hoping that if you let it up long enough she'd take it back and start on her problems again. She didn't and she stood in front of you and Whitaker, waiting for an explanation.
The whole thing between you and Robby had started about the same time Santos and Garcia started. In an awkward confrontation that was you and Trinity bumping into each other in your shared bathroom, both your hairs messed up and both supporting bruises suspiciously in the shape of lips on your necks.
When you returned to your room you and Robby waited eagerly to see who would flee Santos's room. Neither too shocked to find Garcia.
“It's um?” Trinity asked.
“It's going,” you said into your wine glass, finishing it and pouring in more. The truth was for a while things had been odd, on your end more so.
Casual was a label you thought you could do, that when Robby said to you a week after sleeping together, his sheets over the both of your bodies that he liked keeping it simple. Sex. Release. You thought you could do it.
Almost three months since then and you were regretting it because every time you saw doctors eyes lingering over Robby, every time you heard his 'seven-week rule' and every time you saw happy couples fawning over each other in the ED your stomach twisted.
You didn't realise you wanted that until it was dangled in front of you and snatched away all in the same minute.
Trinity's brows rose. “Oh?”
You looked to where Whitaker was next to you, hoping for sympathy. You only found curious eyes. “It's just different than before.”
“Different how?” asked Dennis.
“Is it still casual?”
You scoffed, mumbling under your breath. “Yeah to him.”
“You want to be more?”
You didn't know if she was accusing but your room-mates expecting eyes on you heated your body in shame and embarrassment. “And you don't with Garcia?"
“Ok, enough!” suddenly Whitaker stood up. “The two of you, we need to sort this out.”
With a vacant seat next to you Trinity plopped herself down and you gave her your wine. You just decided to take the bottle.
“I cannot stand it anymore, okay! The two of you, we're gonna change this,” he said. “Trin- no more pining and waiting for Garcia to call at like one am.”
She was wanting to retort but only folded her arms over her chest as he carried on.
“And you-” he focused on you. “Need to stop crying over Robby. You guys can do better.”
“Yeah in a world where we're not working twelve hour shifts five days a week,” you said. The idea of casual hook ups wasn't anything new to the ED, not even the hospital. It was easy way of escape without the pressure of dating when all their time was spent saving lives or charting about saving lives or studying how to save lives.
On the coffee table in front of you Trinity's phone pinged and she reached for it like it was seconds away from self-destructing.
She tucked her phone into her chest to read the text before slamming it back down.
You caught a glance at the words and the contact. Can't make it tonight, I'll hit you up tomorrow- G
“You're gonna leave them,” he said.
You and Trinity sat up. “What?”
“No!”
There was a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“Okay- I take it back,” he said, surrendering. “Then how about give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“Their medicine?” you asked.
Whitaker gently nudged the empty glasses and cans of beer aside, perching on the edge of the coffee table, appealing to the two of you. “How many times have they cancelled plans, or said you couldn't come over to ask you to come over two hours later?”
You hadn't realised how perceptive he was.
“Now, make it so you guys call the shots. They want to come round, you say no.”
The idea was new to you. You'd always wanted Robby. You spent half your spare time wanting him and the other half having sex with him. You'd never even wanted to say no.
“So then we what, don't have sex?” asked Santos.
“You will,” he said. “You create distance, get them wanting and crying or what-whatever and then they'll realise they've messed up.”
You thought we was giving them too much credit.
Santos chuckled. “Huckleberry, are you telling us to play hard to get?”
He thought about it, eyes moving as if he was calculating it. “Yes!”
That's how plan 'hard to get' started. It was agreed you and Santos, the next time Garcia and Robby asked you to come over you'd say no.
Easier in practise when you work with them.
The next day was a slower day, un-usual in that sense. It meant everyone had more time to linger around each other.
“And so I said to him- officer-” said Myrna, lying on the bed between you and Robby. She'd seizure, hurt her leg and needed it disinfected and cleaned- not for the first time in her life. There was a mix of glass and gravel that needed plucking out and apparently the attending of the ED had nothing better to do that join you in the task. “What would you have done if you caught your third husband eating out another woman?”
“And did he say shoot him?” asked Robby. He was bent over the same leg as you, your heads so close you were either gonna head butt or kiss. Not likely over the state of her leg.
“No, he didn't say anything, he just arrested me!”
Robby hummed, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Imagine that.”
“You know Myrna sometimes I can't tell if all these stories are true,” you said, taking a small bit of glass and adding it to the pile you'd already created.
“Oh they're all true, honey, I never lie. Unlike Mark that two faced bastard.”
“Which one was Mark?” you asked.
“The fourth husband. Good body and shit everything else!” she said with a wheeze. Abruptly she grabbed your hand. “Are you single?”
Robby glanced up at you, creases of amusement at the corner of his eyes.
You looked away first. “Why, you asking me out?”
“If you're single, stay single!” she said. “Men, all they are are liars! Lying bastards! And babies! I hardly even shot the guy!”
“Am I so bad, Doctor?” asked Robby looking over the frames of his glasses at you.
Was he so bad? No. He was short-tempered sometimes, moody, didn't accept help from anyone. But you knew he could be gentle, you knew his true belly laugh and the smile he gave at mornings when you were still in bed. You just wish you knew if he ever saw himself staying in that bed a little longer, if he ever wanted to make breakfast and take the day together, stealing moments throughout.
“No,” you said, looking back down to her leg that was almost clean. “You're not.”
Myrna was oddly silent but you could see her head moving between the two of you. “Don't go there sweetheart,” she said, a word of warning. “This one might look fun but he's all danger and heartbreak.”
“Me? No,” said Robby with an air of un-care. “I'm a teddy bear.”
Five minutes later you and Robby were instructing Perlah wrapping her leg before throwing off your gloves and leaving her to it.
“How many husbands you think Myrna had?” he asked.
“Oh there's no telling,” you replied, fetching her chart to finish off the notes. At some point someone had put a star next to her name, as if she was VIP.
Robby leant next to you, scanning around the ED. “Any plans tonight?”
“On a Wednesday? Nop.”
“Wanna come over?”
There was an abrupt and loud clear of a throat.
You hadn't realised Whitaker was there but he was watching the two of you, closely. When you met his eyes he gave a small subtle shake of his head.
Robby looked. “You got a cough, Whitaker?”
He cleared his throat, sliding down in his chair. “No.”
The agreement. It was all fine in practise but how were you supposed to say no when you just said you had no plans and you really wanted to have sex with him! It was the glasses, you were sure that was what did it. The way he pulled them on and pulled them off, the focus it gave him and the way they slipped down his nose.
“So, tonight?” he asked again, voice low.
Only a few people knew, like your room-mates and you were sure others had guessed. Robby wanted to keep it private. Or a secret, you'd never asked for clarification.
You caught Whitakers gaze on yours, watchful. He didn't say anything but you wondered if he'd be disappointed. Would you even be disappointed in yourself? “I can't tonight.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Okay.”
He didn't sound annoyed. He didn't sound anything. It was impossible to tell.
“Yeah, we just- there's this thing-”
“Thought you had no plans?” he asked, an almost amused rise in his brows.
Ah. “It's like- not a plan- just a- a room mate thing. You know?”
Robby looked to Whitaker as if to confirm.
He nodded. “Yeah! Every Wednesday. We watch films.”
“Films,” you confirm.
“And talk.”
“We talk.”
Robby nodded. “Sounds thrilling.”
“Robby!” Dana called. “Got a trauma, woman in her thirties. Five minutes.”
“Got it," he said but he was still slumping over the counter. He took his time moving, stretching up till his shirt rode up enough to expose that slither of skin that held so many promises. “Some other time then.” His hand ghosted the small of your back before he disappeared.
You watched him go, realising you wouldn't spend the night buried in his bored but sleepless and restless.
Whitaker replaced Robby at your side. “See? Doesn't that feel good?”
You answered truthfully. “No.”
That night you, Santos and Whitaker sulked on the sofa, face masks over your faces with a bowl of popcorn left on the table and a shitty movie filling the silence.
Your phone lay face up with nothing from Robby and from Trinity's expression you figured she'd had nothing either.
You'd been to the bathroom once, took your phone with you and debated texting him but you never got that far. You only flicked through texts, casual one's at first. Small 'Are you coming over?' or 'You left your shirt at mine.' There were some dotted from him, on times you were both too busy to meet where things got more... riskier. His texts started simple but you could always catch on to his wants, leading his want.
Things like 'Thought about you today,' or 'you looked good today,' but he never just complimented you for the sake of it.
The texts didn't help so you turned your phone off and re-joined the two all the while your head and heart were in bed with Robby.
The next day passed like another dry spell.
It was busy- too make up for the quiet day beforehand. You didn't have time to greet Robby before being thrown into the chaos from a pile up on the highway. All day your bodies shuffled past each other, his hands lingering on your arms when he passed or always standing next to you in trauma.
It felt something like punishment.
Or a test.
By Friday you were crawling out of your skin, still dealing with the ramifications of the last two days. You hadn't even seen that Robby had text you the night before, so exhausted from work you crashed only spotting his name on your phone the morning you woke from the blare of your alarm.
“You're avoiding me,” he said, kneeling at the computer you typed furiously at to get your charting down. It was a casual move he used, usually un-tying and re-tying his shoes. This time, he simply knelt, seemingly done with pretence.
“What? No.”
“I've barely seen you the last few days," he said, wetting his lips. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, no, I've just been super busy,” you said, tapping on the computer.
Robby shuffled next to you. His hand laid next to yours. He didn't take your hand or stop you but his fingers fidgeted like he didn't know what else to do with himself. “Did I do something?”
You looked down at him, spotting the crease between his brows. “No.”
It was the closest you'd got to seeing him vulnerable.
“So tonight?” he asked. “Feel like I'm losing my damn mind.” His finger was light as it traced your hand, slowly drawing circles.
Tasting Robby was like the first sip of alcohol. It always left you wanting me. Sweet. Bitter. Whatever. You were just left wanting and nothing else, which was why you went crawling back every time. Why saying no had never crosse your mind before. Why the smallest touch from his hand was leaving you in shivers.
You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can't tonight-”
Robby smirked, breathing out a puff of air.
“I would,” you said quickly, turning in your chair to face him. “Believe me, I would, it's just... Trinity is going through some stuff and I just- I don't want to leave her alone, you know.”
It was the truth. Trinity was taking Garcia's silence worse than you or Dennis had anticipated. You knew there was more going on, you only wanted to be there to help her.
Robby perked. “You need me to speak to her?”
“No, no, it's just stuff. She'll be okay I just, want to be safe.”
He nodded but his finger fell from your hand. “Okay.”
“Doctor Robinavitch!” his name was called by the familiar dread of Gloria.
He sighed under his breath as he pushed himself up. “Oh so help me, God.”
By Saturday you were sure Robby thought you were lying and sort out to punish you. He was practically glued at your side all day long. He didn't ask to see you, didn't put his lips near you. But he lingered.
“Okay we don't have a lot of time, there's a lot of bleeding,” said Robby in the face of a trauma, looming over you. “We'll do a Hilar flip.”
“A Hilar flip, are you serious?” said Trinity.
“No other choice.”
You gulped, staring down at the bleeding and misplaced lung. “I've never done one of them before.”
“I'll talk you through it, we'll go easy,” he said, coming at your side. “You're gonna rotate the lung one-eighty, very slow. Very gentle.”
Perhaps it shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. The way his chest heaved against your back, his arm stretching along yours to hold your hand and guide it through the blood to his lung. His face was concentrated next to yours but his breath was hot on your cheek and breathless.
“Go slow.... go slow. Easy.... gentle.... just like that, there we go,” he uttered against your ear.
“Blood loss is slowing down.”
“There we go, you got it,” he mumbled as you slotted it back into its place. “Okay-” Robby moved on like your whole body wasn't trembling. You had to carry on trying to save the guys life after it, like you weren't picturing his entire body draped over yours, whispering filthy things in your ears.
“Thought I was watching a porno there,” said Santos as you all fled the room when the guy was stable.
“Jesus-” you caught your breath, throwing off the gloves and running your hands through your hair, trying to get some air to your neck that sweat.
Santos chuckled to herself. “So does Doctor Robby talk you through it?”
“Trin-” you snap.
“Does he praise you? Is that the kind of thing you're into.”
You didn't respond, hiding in the bathroom to throw cold water onto your face and calm the rush of blood but you could hear Santos outside the door. 'This is a teaching hospital!' she teased.
It became a thing you had to do, get away from him. You couldn't be distracted when dealing with patients. It was bad enough working with him when all you could think about was fucking him!
But Robby seemed to insist in helping you.
“Gaping wounds like this, under the skin we use sub-Q to bring it together,” he instructed as started the stitching for a mans wound on his leg. It was just like anything else, hardly a teaching wound when you knew how to do it. As it was under tissue and there was just no other nurse around Robby insisted.
“Five-O under skin, three-O after that,” he said.
“You think you could show me?”
You both knew you didn't need to be shown but Robby still gave you a small smile and sat on the stall, coming close to you till his meaty thigh was against your own. His hands- though gloved as yours were- still grazed yours as he took the instruments to do it.
“Guide it through... it's finer so you want to extra gentle... lotta care...”
You hummed but you couldn't say you were watching it with keen eyes. You weren't watching the way the stitches came together just the way his hands flexed, his fingers moved.
“Start deep... all the way in... bury the knot in... yeah, see how it comes together just like that?”
You nodded with an absent mind.
Robby held the equipment out to you. “Go ahead.”
You hesitated. Maybe you should have paid more attention.
He all but shoved them into your hand. “You're a big girl, you got it.”
Santos's voice played it your head. Were you into this?
With a breath you steadied yourself and went in. As he had before Robby leant over you, his body practically weighing you down.
You took the thread under the skin, pulling together just like he had.
“Bit deeper-” Robby's hands guided your arms. They were as light as a feather at your elbows before slowly sliding down your arms with a firmer hold, leading the threads.
You remembered his tight hold on you when he wanted you in place on the bed, when he was was dragging clothes off your body or wrapping a hand around your neck-
Robby called your name, watching you expectantly. His eyes were softened at the edges but they grew darker, the smallest bit of a smirk at the corner of his lips. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
“Right... sorry-” you went as deep as he instructed, knowing his face was concentrated on you and your hands.
“Do you want me to leave?” asked the patient.
If he could leave his leg and leave it would've been great.
“We'll get you out of here in no time,” said Robby.
You'd thought that maybe the stitching at taken so long it was almost time to leave. Maybe you could talk to Whitaker and Santos about this hard to get thing. It was only eleven and you had more than six hours left with situations that constantly brought you and Robby together. Even when it didn't, there he was, whispering words of encouragement.
“You got this... nice and easy.... doing really good there...”
Or the simple phrase that had you hiding in the bathroom for five minutes.
“Good girl.”
When the end of the day came you ran out of there, gasping in air and rushing back back to your place.
“Hey,” you greeted walking through the door.
Trinity was already there, looking like she was ready to leave, jacket thrown over her scrubs she hadn't changed out of even though she finished an hour before you. “Hey.”
“Where's Huckleberry?”
“Oh he's at Amy's tonight.”
You scoffed. “Woah. What a speech about doing better and playing hard to get but as soon as the chance comes to play farm. So, movie tonight? I can order pizza?”
“Actually, I'm just on my way out too,” she said. “Garcia called.”
You slumped. Your entire body slumped. Your heart gave up. “What? I thought we all made a deal?”
“We did, I played hard to get now she wants to see me,” she said.
“I haven't seen Robby in three days!”
“So go to his, get dicked down, girl,” she said, moving past you with a breeze. “I'm sorry, we can talk about how much of a bitch I am when I'm back from having the best sex yet! Later!”
She was out the door before you could chastise her. You shut it after her, falling upon it.
You'd ran from the ED to stay strong, to avoid another interaction with Robby that would have you climbing his bones in an empty room. You'd happily have done it with the teasing he'd subjected you to all day. For your friends and the promise you'd made you remained strong.
You'd never do that again.
Saturday night after the longest shift of your life and you had the place to yourself. It was rare. Either Denis or Trinity were home or you were spending the night at Robby's.
Your phone was heavy in your pocket.
Call him.
But the problem still lied un-answered. You were still at Robby's beck and call, begging for his attention. Begging him to be hard thinking about you so he could fuck you into the mattress to be professional the net day and treat you like you were just another MR.
You didn't want special treatment so to say, didn't want him to give you the easy patients or get you into the traumas more. You just wanted a smile, or a glimpse of .... love.
Maybe your friends were okay with what they had. You weren't.
You turned your phone off for the night and stripped from your scrubs, changing into a large shirt and blasting music Trin hated and Denis claimed to hate (but you'd heard him playing your playlist in the shower). For a crazy night alone you caught up on washing several pairs of scrubs and anything else, cleaned out the freezer leaving you barren of anything to eat. Maybe you'd even iron some normal clothes-
That's at least what you were thinking when there was a knock at the door.
You'd hoped it was Denis or Trin coming back, tails between their legs, keys forgotten.
Robby stood on the other side of the door.
You stood, frozen, shocked to see him there. He was just as still, waiting with raised brows. “Doctor Robby. Is everything okay?”
His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his scrubs only slightly dirtied from the day. But his eyes were alive and his body didn't sag with exhaustion like usual. His eyes darted back behind you. “Can I come in?”
You held open the door, closing it slowly behind you.
Robby had only been to your place once before. He looked the open living space open with interest. Typically your meet ups were at his, on account he lived alone and his bed was much nicer to be down on than yours.
“Er- Whitaker and Santos aren't home, if- if this is a hospital thing.”
“It's not,” he said, lowering his bag at the sofa.
“Oh?”
He turned, leaning against the back of it. “It's a me and you thing.”
“Oh.”
His arms flexed as he folded them over his chest, the green of his top under his scrub bunched at the forearms. His head ducked, trying to get a read on you. “So?”
You rocked on your heels, realising the shortened of the shirt you wore. Not that it wasn't anything he had seen before. “So...”
“What's going on?” he asked. There was still nothing in his voice to give away his true thoughts, only a slight edge of urgency.
“What-what-what do you mean?”
Robby listed off what he saw was wrong like symptoms. “You've been avoiding me, you never answered my texts, you didn't want to see me the other night nor tonight though you have the place to yourself-”
“I didn't realise they were gone,” you said.
“Okay so every other time?” he asked. “If I did something you can tell me. I'm a big guy, I can take it.”
It was a chance to voice up every ill thought you'd had but all you could think about was how big he was. Standing there, jutted on the back of the couch with his scrubs around his arms and thighs.
“You didn't do anything,” you said, though you weren't looking at his eyes more his arms.
They flexed again like he knew what he was doing. His voice dropped, finally to something you could name. “So tell me. what's going on.”
If you threw yourself at him you knew the chances of him taking you to bed were high, but the chances of you regretting it in the morning when he had rolled out of bed, dressed and left you were higher.
“I just-” you blew out a breath, readying yourself for the dismiss. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”
Robby waited like he was listening to the words re-play. His head lowered as he nodded, taking it in. “May I ask why?”
“It's the casual thing,” you rushed out before you could take it back. “I don't think I can do casual. I thought I could, but I-I can't.”
He nodded, chin tucked into his chest and for a moment you thought you really had upset him. But then he straightened up, pushed himself from the sofa and shrugged. His boots thudded heavy as he stepped to you slow. “Okay then.”
Was this the moment when you got the door for him on the way out?
“Okay, so... um.... I guess I'll see you-”
Robby's hands grasped your cheeks and he kissed you quick, hard. His lips tasted as they always did with a hint of mint-freshness. They were rough as always as they worked against yours, opening you up to him as always-
You brushed away, shaking your head. “I um- Robby I can't-”
He took a deep, shuddering breath. He stepped closer to you, the heat of his body waving over you. “We don't have to be casual anymore, I don't want to be casual- not anymore.”
Everyone knew Robby only knew casual. Only selected few ever got past seven weeks. Heck you hadn't counted how long this had been going on for, maybe ten weeks but that could be nothing. You were good sex, that was all.
“Robby-”
“Listen, listen-” he said, arms waving around you before settling on your forearms. “You don't want casual, neither do I. You want me to ask? You want me to ask you to be my girlfriend, I'll ask.”
“Robby you don't date,” you tried to tell him.
He scoffed. “I date. But not anymore, not if I have you.”
Had word of the deal got out? Was Robby just tired after his shift? Delusional?
“Hey, hey-" his hands ran through your hair, cradling your cheeks. “I should've said it earlier, I know but I want this. I want serious.”
His eyes crinkled as he looked at you, the edges of his gaze soft. “You don't just have to say this. You can have anyone else-”
Robby's head ducked into the crook of your neck, brushing your hair back and pressing light kisses to the expanse of your neck. “I don't want anyone else, I want you.”
Your body awakened in shivers that he elicited.
His fingers wound to the front of your body, slowly peeling away the buttons of the shirt till it pooled at your ankles. He didn't move to ravage you, his lips remained light as they kissed down your neck, finding your collarbone and working a mark there.
Your hands wound up his arms, clutching at his shoulders. “Robby-”
“Not this time,” he uttered against your collarbone.
You knew what you called him when it was you and him. “Michael-”
“Good girl.”
You moaned out at the words, the moan you'd held all day revibrating around your flat.
He slowly kicked odd his boots and helped you throw off his scrub top before he kissed you again.
You only got a short glimpse at the body you craved before his tongue, hot and heavy, slid into you mouth, bathing in the warmth. His hands were rough as they studied every inch of your body, fingertips digging into skin.
“I want you, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your lips as you scaled your hands under his shirt and along his stomach till your fingers skimmed under his waistband.
His mouth opened against yours, groaning at this slightest touch. “Oh-”
His arms scooped you up, bringing your body up and flush against him as his arms were strong on your back, kissing you. It was all wet tongue and soft lips as he stumbled back on the edge of your couch.
“Santos will kill me if we have sex on our couch,” you gasped.
Robby rose a brow. “Oh, we're having sex?” he teased.
“I should hope so.”
You kissed you hard again, wetting the both of your mouths in delectable smacks of your lips. The two of you stumbled away to your room and his body caged you in as the two of you fell atop your sheets.
You crawled up the bed as Robby's face fell between your chest. His tongue made wet paths from each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth and his hand groping at the other one till you withered against his body.
“Michael-”
He moaned into your breast and shoved a meaty thigh between your legs. “Grind on me,” he demanded.
Your body did against him as if it only listened to his command.
He mouthed your other breast, groping where his tongue had pressed before. All the while you body moved against his thigh, dragging your pussy against him.
“Yeah.... jus' like that... god.... can feel you.... so good,” he uttered as he jutted his thigh against you.
Your hands went to his shoulders, messaging the skin there until he came back up your body and shoved his tongue down your throat again. Your arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him into you.
All the while you wet down his scrubs.
“You want serious?” he uttered against you, pulling back enough to see you.
You nodded, hair splayed over your pillow.
Robby nodded along, eyes hooded. His hand slid down between your bodies. “I can do serious.”
His finger slid into you, working in and out in slow thrusts. But even the meassured curl of his finger had you holding him, back arching from the bed.
“Mmph-”
“Don't be quiet,” he said, nuzzling his head in you neck, biting the skin there. “Don't do that.”
Another finger curled in and you moaned on. You weren't quiet usually, there was nothing more than Robby liked than being loud. Everything was measured in the ED, out of it, buried inside of you or hot mouths on each other had Robby groaning, moaning and wanting you to do the same.
His fingers thrusted knuckle deep in and out again, the soft moving of skin moving around the room as your breaths covered the sound.
His fingers moved quick as your breaths grew laboured. He sucked the skin of your neck, thrusting and curling as his hips sort some sort of friction.
You withered against him. “I'm gonna- Michael I'm gonna-”
He released your skin with a small bite and laid his mouth open on yours. “Cum,” he uttered.
“Michael-”
His voice turned harder, the hand that wasn't inside of you wrapping around your neck, pushing you into your bed. “Cum.”
With just the right curl Robby had your pussy in the palm of his hand, slick with your release as he worked you through it, rubbing his hand along your clit with jolts of your body.
“God so good,” he said, looking up at you as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on your bodies. “And all mine?”
You nodded, cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat of your body as strong as it was when he walked in.
“All mine, huh?”
“Yes,” you said, breathless.
Robby slowly took out his fingers from you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean like it was nothing. He fell back on his feet, fingers working on the ties of his scrubs. “That why you were avoiding me?”
“I wasn't-” your words died in your throat as he dropped his scrubs and boxers in one.
You'd seen his cock enough to know it by memory but the size and fullness of him always rendered you speechless.
Robby knew it to. He stood there with a smirk. “You weren't avoiding me?”
Slowly, he sank to his knees.
“No,” you said, mesmerised by the sight of him going down.
Robby's hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them. He tapped your ankles, getting them on the bed as he got closer to your heat, still leaking from the last orgasm. “Promise?”
The words had hardly left your lips before his tongue pressed into you.
Your entire body moved into his but his arms wrapped around your hips, keeping you pressed into the bed. He moved further up, burying himself in you.
“Aw- fuck-” your hands waved for purchase before curling into the sheets.
He licked a stripe up and down before nudging your lips open and finding himself in there. It wasn't the slow drag of fingers but the desperate kisses and licks of a man hungry. He pulled back, spitting against you. “You won't avoid me again, will you baby?”
You shook your head.
Robby's eyes remained on yours until he buried himself in your pussy. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned into you.
His hands kept you spread open every time they quivered but it didn't take long for his hand to wind down to his cock. You prepped yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he pumped his cock agonizingly slow.
“Want your cock, Robby-”
He halted his movements and you but down on your lip.
“What did you just call me?” he asked, slowly moving up your body.
You knew you were supposed to call him Michael but watching the full swing of his cock stand to attention as he made his way over you was far too distracting.
“Hey-v his hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up. “Michael.”
You nodded. Your hands reached for his cock, straining to wrap around him.
The only notice of the effect you had was the clench of his jaw.
“Michael,” he repeated, voice almost a growl.
“Michael.”
He nodded.
“Condom?” he asked, jutting back on his heels.
Your hand slowly worked his cock, the pre-cum beading at the tip. You shook your head. You were both clean, you were on the pill but tonight you wanted to feel everything, wanted him to even fill you-
Robby bent his head, spitting down on his cock and your hand. For a moment that's all it was, you hand moving on his cock as your other circled your clit. “God... your hand.... missed you...”
When your strokes got heavier, faster Robby's head fell back and he groaned. His cock was pink, heavy in your hand-
Quickly he grabbed your wrist and threw it off before grabbing the hilt of his own cock and slowly pushing into you.
His throat strained as he groaned at the push in and your back arched into him. “Fuck!” he fell atop you, arms braced at either side. “Shit- ah-”
Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping you in.
“God, you make me crazy,” he uttered, searching for your lips.
The two of you collided in a mess of salvia, tongue, lips as he pushed into you, catching your gasps.
Eventually the rock of his hips grew steady. The creak of your old bed echoed the moves of him against you.
“Shit- ah-” he groaned, shaking off the sweat and the tension.
“Michael,” you said, holding him in closer. “I want you to... go hard.”
Hard he could do. Soft he could do. He would do anything you asked.
His tongue darted out, swiping your lips. “You missed me?”
“So much, so much, so much,” you pulled him down till his weight tested yours, cock deep. “On me.”
“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself. He put all his weight down, crashing your body into his bed. He wasn't as young as he once was. By no means but if you wanted it, he'd give it.
Pressed into you his cock went far and deep and he couldn't fully withdraw so it was small, maddening movements.
“Oh god,” he uttered.
You moaned, loud, as he wanted and he was breathless, groaning.
The dull thump of your headboard banged on the wall and something on your bedside table fell off.
Robby's arm stretched out, grabbing your hand and stretching your arms to the headboard, trying to steady it. With the stretch of the bodies he reached that spot in you.
“Aw fuck!” You yelled out, louder than anticipated. “Michael I'm gonna- I'm gonna-”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he grunted with you. His other hand threw to your hip, holding your pelvis flush into you. “Fuck!”
In seconds he let go inside of you and the gush of his cum and the sound of the wet bodies threw you over the edge. His clutch on your hand grew tighter as his body trembled with yours, the spurts of your releases cooling down.
If this was casual Robby wouldn't have lingered, he'd have pulled out, flashed you a smile before using the bathroom.
He moved slower, staying till the both of you were spent. He kissed you, soft and sweet, lips moving around to remember the taste. “I'll move out,” he whispered as he took out his cock.
You stole a glance of both of your release leaking from you and around him before Robby moved aside.
He didn't flee, he didn't go to the bathroom. He pulled the sheets from under your bodies and got the both of you into bed. He laid beside you.
Robby tucked you under his arm, sweat on both your bodies cooling as you laid together. “Feels better when we're serious.” His fingers moved slow on your shoulder, delicate touches like a feather.
If he woke with a new thought, woke with regret you'd deal with it. For the moment you allowed yourself to feel the thump of his heart as the two of you slowly lulled to sleep.
Your alarm was the first thing you picked up in the morning. It's beeping ringing in your ear as you moved to turn the thing off or throw it at the wall-
A weight over your stomach made the effort harder but you got it.
Last night came back to you in the spill of scrubs on the floor and the ache between your legs.
Robby stirred next to you. Last night.
He stayed.
“You on today?” he asked, morning voice rough. You got a look at him, it was a rare sight you got to see him in morning light. His eyes were still shut, his face without the stress the day job gave him. He asked so casual, as if this was a morning routine you'd slipped into years ago.
You hummed, nodding and readying to move-
His arm tightened, drawing you in. “Call in sick.”
You chuckled, but your eyes closed. You promised yourself five more minutes. “My attending might have something to say about that.”
Robby grumbled. “Have a word with him, I'm sure you can be very persuasive.”
Somewhere in you apartment you heard the front door open and close, voices moving around the place.
You hadn't closed the door.
“Hey! We brought coffee and bagels!” called Santos.
“We're sorry for leaving you- we- huh?” you heard Whitaker. “What the?”
The clothes on the floor. The scrub top that would have his doctors badge on it.
You groaned and suddenly Whitaker and Santos were passing the doorway, one smirking, the other shocked.
Robby beside you didn't even stir.
“Good morning, Doctor Robby!” called Santos.
He only lifted a hand in greeting before making sure the covers were over the two of you.
You reached for something heavy, landing on a cushion and aiming at the door. It closed in front of your laughing friends.
One of my absolute favourite "first kiss" situations for Rabbot takes place when Jack and Robby are having that argument across Robby's bike in the ambulance bay.
Like in the canon, Robby is refusing to listen, shutting down all Jack (and Dana's) concerns. Shooting back at his friend that he's "not the one that spends his free time getting shot at, HOO-AH."
(At this point, the ambulance with the C-section patient never comes in. So they don't move the conversation away from the bike)
Robby just starts exclaiming things like "Where I go, or what I do, in my time off is not yours, or Dana's, or anyone else's business."
Angrily gritting out "And I don't know why you're so determined to keep me here like some mutt you don't trust to let off its leash"
Jack can only listen to so much of it before he just snaps.
Both of his hands shoot out over the Bonneville. Latching firmly onto Robby's collar. With no gentleness or grace whatsoever, he tugs Robby in for a firm kiss.
It's mainly smushing their lips together and trying to convey every ounce of "because I love you, you fucking idiot" that he can into the kiss.
Robby's uncertain hands flail around for a second before settling on Jack's own scrubs. He grips the fabric in his fists so tight that Jack half expects to be shoved back; he braces himself physically and emotionally for the rejection.
But Robby seems in a state of paralysis. His fists tremble in their hold on the black material. He takes loud shaky breaths in through his nose. His lips quiver against Jack's own like he can't decide what to do.
Not pulling their lips apart, Jack reaches one hand up, and tries to soothe Robby by petting the hair at the back of his neck. Rubbing small circles there like he's settling an anxious puppy.
The calm steady touch seems to reboot Robby's brain. Because all of a sudden Jack is being tugged sideways around the bike and being walked backwards with focus.
His friend doesn't stop until they're both tucked around the corner of the hospital building. They're on a tiny paved path. The giant wall of the hospital on one side, and a line of knee high shrubs bordering a mowed patch of grass on the other.
Once he'd pulled back briefly (holding Jack at arm's length and peering out at the bay to check they were out of sight) Robby pins Jack against the wall and snogs him with all the energy he received earlier; but with none of the desperation.
He kisses Jack with the firm confidence that he will be kissed back. And he was.
Their lips meet hotly over and over. Their hands make trails all over each other. Grasping or cradling each patch for a few seconds before desperately needing to feel more. Barely an inch of fabric, skin or hair went unexplored.
They could have been there, making out like teenagers, for minutes or hours. They would be none the wiser. It wasn't until they heard the distant chatter in the direction of the ED entrance that they were pulled suddenly from their haze.
That didn't stop them holding each other close though. Robby's hands now cradling Jack's head while raking his fingers through the curls he found there. Meanwhile, Jack held both of Robby's shoulders. He alternated trailing his hands up and down them in sweeping strokes, and massaging them with gentle squeezes to the tense muscles there.
Just as their hands were attached to the other like magnets, they couldn't take their eyes off each other either.
They'd need to get back to the ED soon. Not a great look for the hospital PR wise if anyone dies because 2 out of 3 of the attendings on shift are busy playing tonsil tennis when they should be working.
Of course there would be conversations to be had later. Revelations to uncover. Feelings to confess. Worries to share.
But two things were for certain.
They both had so many wonderful things to see.
And so many ways to love each other ahead of them.
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Wordcount: 16,900 workds
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Jack Abbot/Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
Tags: POV Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Getting Together, First Kiss, Anal Sex, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch Needs Therapy, Post-Season/Series 02, Jack Abbot Has a Crush (The Pitt), Robby discovers DIY, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Sharing a Bed, minor miscomunication, Banter, anxious Whittaker, Avoidant Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Moving in Together, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch Needs a Hug, Friends to Lovers, Canon Compliant, Dana Evans Knows Everything, Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff
Summary:
After the end of 2x15. Robby turns up at Jack's house instead of going on his sabbatical and then just….doesn't leave
****
Dana finds Jack just after ten to tell him that Robby's sacked out in Pedes and she's stuck a 'do not disturb' sign on the door.
"Baby Jane Doe was sleeping peacefully on his chest. Managed to transfer her back to her bassinet without waking either of them."
She looks and sounds tired, which isn't surprising after the day she's had, but her eyes soften with warmth as she speaks. He'd sensed the tension between Charge Nurse and Chief earlier, but they've known each other too long to stay angry for long.
"I think they needed each other," she adds wisely, parting him on the shoulder as she leaves.
Once she heads back to the hub to wait for her replacement to turn up, Jack can't help but pass by the room to see for himself. Dana has pulled the curtain almost all the way, with just a sliver visible through the glass for someone to check on both baby and Chief. Robby's head has drooped at an angle, and Jack knows Robby will have a sore neck when he wakes up.
He keeps his fingers crossed that they don't need the room at all.
When he checks again a couple of hours later, the room is empty. His stomach drops at the empty chair, and he quickly diverts to the ambulance bay to check if Robby's bike is still there.
It's gone.
Fuck.
There's a bitter taste on his tongue and a growing feeling of dread in his chest. Was that the last time he will ever see Robby? Did he fail at getting Robby to listen to him?
Jack has never been particularly religious, but all he can do is hope and pray.
Omegaverse Rabbot where both Robby and Jack are Alphas. Jack begins to bitch Robby pretty early on and the man is such a workaholic it takes him a while to realise and when he does, he finds out he doesn't really mind because it's Jack, he knows Jack, Jack is good to him, Jack is safety and comfort, Jack is home
Turns out Robby was already bitched into Omega and 8 weeks pregnant
he doesnt even realise hes doing it. the money in his bank account is practically infinite and everybody knows it, he is an ex veteran and doctor after all.
it starts with him buying you coffee on his way to work. then when you guys started seeing eachother outside of work he would start buying you breakfast or dinner. you would always offer to pay, split the bill, but he would always say ‘dont worry about it’ andhand over his black amex like it was nothing.
then once you guys got serious he would start taking you to nicer places. places you never though you would be able to afford. you would feel bad, try ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, but he would notice immediately and ask the waiter to comeback in five.
then he started buying you clothes, jewellery. jack said he wanted you to be happy, and joked that you were ‘always complaining’ about having nothing to wear when he takes you out. you tell him you feel bad, you dont like draining his bank account. ‘baby this is nothing, i just want you to feel good. i like making you feel good.’ he would reply as his hand slid up your thigh. ‘if youre uncomfortable just tell me. ok?’ you climbed onto his lap and took his head into your hands. running your hands though his grey curls.
‘so what…are you my sugar daddy?’ you joked. a smirk grew on his face, ‘is that what you want, huh?’ he started pulling your shirt up over your head, ‘an excuse to call me daddy?’
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