“Hey!” said Samira falling at your side at the counter.

You were still too distracted by the two to even tear your gaze away and look at her. “Hey.”

Samira followed your eyeline. “You're staring, you know that?”

You nodded.

Robby rubbed at the side of his face as his cheeks flushed, Noelle shifted her weight onto her other heeled foot- apparently getting herself comfortable.

“Who is that, again?” asked Doctor Mohan.

“Noelle. She's from insurance.”

Samira nodded. “Noelle from insurance. Annnd do we like Noelle, from insurance?”

At that you realised just how transparent your glares might have been.

“Oh, you know,” you mumbled, finally looking back down to your tablet that had grown dark in the absence of movement. “It's our job to like everyone.”

Santos passed by you then, dropping herself down into your favourite chair in exhaustion. “Not everyone.”

“So we're all having a great day, I see,” you commented, sarcastically. However the sardonic tone of your voice was over-saturated with a loud laugh.

Your head practically snapped up to see Noelle laughing at something Robby had said. Even his face was scrunched up at his joke. You watched as Noelle's hand darted to his bicep, playfully hitting him in a way that could only be recognised as flirting.

You watched as Robby looked down to her hand on him and then he looked up, finding you and finding your watchful gaze. Only then did the pink in his cheeks subside and the wrinkles of amusement die.

“Didn't they have a thing before you and him got together?” asked Santos.

You sighed. “Yes, they did, thank you, Trinity.”

“Hey, just trying to be helpful.”

“Save it for the patients,” you said.

Robby took one step in your direction but you'd already dismissed yourself from Santos and Mohan, walking the ward like it was a battle field.

But you could hear your boyfriends heavy boots close behind you.

“Don't do that,” he said, calling after you.

“Do what? See a patient?”

“It's not what you think,” he said.

“Of course it's not,” you said, trying your best to be indifferent.

You knew about Noelle and Robby's history, just as you knew about his and Heathers, and his and the pathologist from upstairs, and the one from ortho. You knew and you understood, heck you'd even been around to joke about with Landon. Robby's famous seven-week itch.

Rumour had it before he finally got to hold your hand and kiss you whenever he liked he'd been trying to nail you down for years, but you weren't sure how much you believed.

It had been nine months, maybe closer to ten since you and Robby had officially started seeing each other. It was the real boyfriend-girlfriend deal where you could call each other at any moments of the day, could get take out together and discuss the boring things together.

Yet, you did none of that.

Robby and you didn't talk.

You fucked- but only each other. You worked on cases together- strictly professional. On the days where you were desperate there was an on-call room Robby could book out and steal time away with you.

But you didn't remember the last time you'd laughed like that with him.

“It's not,” said Robby again.

“Of course it's not.”

Robby sighed, falling closer behind you. “Well, it doesn't really sound like you believe me.”

“I believe you,” you said. “Do I believe Noelle...”

“Oh, c'mon,” Robby chuckled, like the very idea of them was ridiculous. Like the two of you didn't begin where they ended. “You seriously gonna be hung up on that?”

“Don't,” you warn, shaking your head.

You reached for an exam room door, where a sixteen year old boy was complaining of migraines but Robby grabbed your wrist and stirred you away.

“You wanna argue, not here,” he said.

“I don't want to argue.”

Robby led you out to the ambulance bay. Any nurses stealing a couple minutes of peace quickly diverted back in and even ambulances seemed to divert away. He let go of you, standing away and folding his arms over his chest, defensive. “So come on, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You're mad because I was talking to Noelle- about a case, might I add,” he said. There was nothing soft in his tone, nothing that calmed your nerves on edge. He said it all like it was a joke that he already knew the punchline to.

You rubbed at your temple. “You can talk to Noelle about cases, of course you can-”

“- Oh, thank you, glad I have your permission,” he chuckled.

“Can you just not be a dick about this, for once!” you snapped.

Robby's brows rose to his head, almost shocked at your snap at him. He held out his hands. “Okay, I'm not being a dick.”

“You are, and it's like sometimes you don't even realise.”

His hands were worn with the mornings patients and you could see the stress he tried to hide away as he wiped up and down his face.

You took a deep breath. “Robby, if you don't want this to work out all you have to do is say.” You said it, un-sure if you even meant it. Un-sure that you could ever go back to who you were before meeting Robby, let alone sharing in his life. In the small moments grabbing take out together and eating it on his sofa. In the mornings where you both naturally woke up early enough to just admire each other before you had to get to work.

Robby chuckled dryly, hands on his hips. “Oh my god, all of this because I spoke to another woman?”

“Because you laughed with her like you haven't with me for weeks!” you argued.

For once, Robby was silent.

You told yourself after the seven week mark that it would be any day now, that he'd tell you you were better off friends; colleagues. Every day and week it didn't come, every month he got more comfortable in your bed you figured you'd easily get rid of him in your life as easily as you welcomed him.

Now you stood across from him in the early morning light of the ambulance bay knowing if he left you now you'd never get back on your feet again.

“I see the way Noelle looks at you, how the others from upstairs do to,” you begin.

Robby shook his head, something earnest in his gaze. “They're not- they don't-”

“- I know, I know,” you said, cutting him off with a grimace of a smile. “ ”I know you don't love them, Robby. I'm just not sure you love me either.”

As un-cultured as you were with your own relationships you weren't sure when the right time to say I love you was. You knew Santos had said it to Garcia drunk one night and woke up with regret pinning her to the bed. You knew Dana and Benji had said it to each other a week in. You knew you loved Robby before you even kissed him.

Robby looked down to his boots, shaking his head. “That's not fair.”

Your heart pinched. “I know I love you, Robby. But I can't watch all these woman over you and-and wonder.”

“Your insecurities are not my fault!” Robby snapped.

You knew he didn't mean it, or hoped he didn't. You knew in the very small arguments you'd had that he spoke without thinking and came grovelling back.

Maybe it was worse this time because you knew it was the truth. You knew these women- his ex something's- didn't get to see Robby in the early mornings and be the last thing he spoke to at night. You knew Robby wasn't inviting them into his self, but he wasn't pushing them away either.

They'd all been quick, snaps of bands on wrists. You were supposed to be something more.

Maybe you weren't.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you felt the familiar burning in your chest, rising up to your neck.

“Okay.” You held yourself tight, heading past him and to the doors that were already welcoming you back.

Robby was hot on your heels, quicker even as he pushed himself ahead of you. “No, no, no- hey- wait, no I-I didn't mean that.” His eyes were wide, hands held out in front of you, not quite clasped together, pointing to the sky but pleading none the less.

“We shouldn't talk about this now, Robby-”

“- I- we... honey, please.”

He stood in between you and the doors. Beyond him you saw the chaos of the room, the charts being passed, the labs being reported. The world still turned.

Robby's hands fell to your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. “Let me- jus' let me-let me-”

“Hey! You two!”

Robby didn't jump apart from you, he squeezed your arms tighter as the two of you looked back to Dana who rushed out, wisps of grey hair falling around her. “What is it?”

“There's been a crash down the docks, all hands on deck!”

You thought you knew chaos, having seen all sorts of terror and oddities in the Pitt but the scenes at the dock were nothing like it. A complication with a boat, an explosion- small enough- rattled ferries and had them crashing into one another like terrible scene of dominoes.

Heck, you weren't even sure if the docks were safe to be standing on.

There were fire trucks and ambulances that didn't just respond to PTMC but Presby too. Police were corning off the area, talking to any witnesses but everyone blurred in one as you weaved in and out of them.

You'd been sent as an emergency respondent thanks to how level-headed and sturdy you were in the Pittfest. You still remembered how Robby nominated you as well as Whitaker to go with some from surgery, his eyes dark on you, a trusting nod passed before you were handed a jacket and pushed into an ambulance.

You'd already pulled a sheet over three bodies, one of them too small for your liking.

“Any for me?” asked a first emergency responder, you think his name was Spencer, catching it in the rig you caught a ride in. “We can take two.”

“Yeah!” you yelled and led him away. “This guy, approximately in his thirties, head lack to the right, needs to go to surgery immediately. This woman, late twenties, lost consciousness, possible pelvic bleed but she's stabilised, need's a ultrasound.”

“Got it!”

You'd gone through almost all the gloves you had in your pockets. There was blood seeping into your scrub uniform at your knees. You'd forgone your coat to a little girl who took an ambulance back with her mother, trembling from the cold.

A steady, firm hand settled between your shoulder blades.

“How you holding on, Slugger?”

Your heart soared in relief when you recognised Jack's voice, felt his steady hand and saw his easy smile in the middle of all the pain.

“Jack, thank god. Are you here with your team?” you asked, eying the uniform he was in.

“Yeah, we came to secure the area, doing everything I can to help,” he said, the two of you nudging your way through the people, stepping over the rubble and pools of water or blood. “How you holding up?”

“Lost three,” you told him.

Jack looked down at you, the weight of his gaze always heavy. “And how many you saved, huh? Focus on that number.”

The wind picked up, sending a chill over your bones.

“Hey, where's your jacket?” asked Jack, a frown taking over his features.

You chuckled. “Probably half way to Presby by now, think we've handed off all the traumas PTMC can take.”

Jack tutted and shook his head aside. “I reckon they've got one more in them.”

You didn't know how you and Jack had got so close, somewhere along the lines of hand-offs and covering night shifts you just always gravitated toward each other, working well and saving lives. Every daring procedure you'd taken was with him over your shoulder only for him to go and boast about you to Robby later.

Jack led you to Robby, for that you always had to be thankful.

“Hey! I've got a guy seizing over here!”

With your case in hand the two of you rushed off.

The man seemed middle-aged with no obvious wound to him as you and Jack took either side. The man was at the edge of the docks, the crashing of the waves fighting against you as you worked to stablilse him.

Jack steadied him. “Check if there's any medication on him! It might be a disorder!”

You checked, coming up empty pocketed. You fumbled in your bag and tried your pockets before finding the vial and clean needle. “Pushing diazepam!”

With five cc's in his seizing slowed to dull twitches.

“We need a back board and neck brace,” said Jack, looking around to try and flag down anyone.

Nobody was catching your eyes. This close to the water you were out of the way of most of the chaos.

“Go!” you told Jack. “I'll stay with him, make sure he doesn't sieze again.”

Jack's brows pinched together for a second. “You sure?”

You nodded. Your hands remained on your patient, feeling his tremors and already timing his pulse with your watch. “I've got it, go!”

In hind sight you should have thought about the implications. You'd been grabbed and yelled at and spat at in the ED by less sever patients but once you'd been attacked by a man who just woke up from a seizure, dazed and confused and naming you his enemy.

Robby had never been so close to murder.

It took weeks for the bruises to go down, for your hand to heal properly from the fall and you were on bed rest for a week.

You knew what it meant to be alone with a patient, but sometimes you supposed it couldn't be helped.

The diazepam should have helped- you've seen it help- but soon enough the man started twitching, slow at first, before it started to fit and his whole body moved.

He was a strong man. You weren't.

“It's okay, sir- sir!” you threw your weight against him to hold him still, wonder what you can do to stop him biting down on his tongue with the little equipment you had.

The man was mumbling to himself, thrashing violently.

“C'mon Jack, c'mon-”

It only took a wide sweep of the mans arm to send you hurtling back and crashing into the icy water.

The sky was darkening by the time Robby counted off his thirtieth patient of the day. Twenty-five of them had been from the incident at the docks. Only one he couldn't save, two sent up to the OR.

He counted the patients, counted the hours that ticked by, counted every ambulance that came by not carrying you. He'd expected you back by now, expected to have a little piece of mind with seeing you back in his eyeline.

Robby's heart was being squeezed progressively as the day went on, ever since he'd snapped and said words he never even meant.

Every second, passing from patient to patient and tearing off gloves to replace them with clean ones he checked his phone for any update from you.

Nothing.

You must have been busy down there.

But just three ambulances ago Whitaker returned saying he lost sight of you practically immediately.

So where the hell were you?

“Hey, Dana-” he called, rounding on the nurses station.

She looked as dishevelled as he felt, wisps of hair, dark circles under her eyes.

“Can you get a hold of transport, ask where the hell is my resident.”

“I just got off the phone with them, Robby-” she reached over and placed a hand on his, the one that had been tapping relentlessly. “She's on her way in now.”

Before Robby could even wonder why Dana had to hold his hand to tell him, why her eyes were glassed over and her voice trembled to tell him the doors bust open.

“Robby!” Jack yelled out.

He turned, catching sight of his old friend, the greying hair damp and sticking to his skin. He was half dressed in SWAT gear, his jacket discarded and bits of tinfoil falling from his shoulders. Jack was set over a gurney, hammering down on a chest and going in for CPR the old fashioned way.

“What happened? You fall in-”

Robby got to the other side of the gurney and breath caught in his chest.

“She's been down thirty- thirty-five minutes, I dunno, man,” said Jack as he continued hammering down on your chest.

It was you. Blue in the face and eyes closed, droplets of water at your lashes. Your hair was turning to ice fanned out underneath you. He'd been running his hand through your hair just that morning, had he not. There was a blanket, maybe two, thrown over you but your body only reacted to the thumping Jack delivered on your chest, pinching your nose to breath down your open mouth.

This morning you'd been warm, so warm, with a leg thrown over his hips in attempts to keep him in your bed. And he'd been close, so close to burying himself in your warmth.

He didn't even have to touch you to know you were cold.

“I found her- in the water- pulled her out-” gasped Jack as he continued compressions.

“What do you mean in the water?” asked Robby, surprising himself by how calm he sounded.

“She- she fell, or-or something, I dunno man-”

“You don't know?” he snapped. “Why isn't she bagged?”

“We ran out,” said the paramedic pushing you in.

“You ran out?!”

“Robby- Robby!” Dana's hands were on his chest, keeping him at bay before Robby even knew what he was going to do.

Robby shook her off. “What's open?”

“Trauma two just got cleaned up-”

He grabbed the gurney and pushed you into the room. The weight of Jack on top of you trying to save your life squeaking the wheels against the floor not long wiped from blood. Robby was aware of other voices, of people wondering if that was Jack and was it... no... it couldn't have been.

The doors closed behind a team of people all teaming in, stuttering when they saw you.

“Hook her up!” ordered Robby, ignoring any protocol of gowns and gloves. If he was going to get you back he was going to feel the beat of your heart under his palms. “Jack, move!”

Jack slowly climbed down and Robby jumped up next, quickly taking over compressions.

He remembered kissing down your chest, hiding himself there on mornings he wanted to steal away five minutes, pulling the covers up past the two of you. How he was breaking ribs to keep you alive. “Somebody get a bag on her, now!”

“She's- she's been down a long time,” said Jack, catching his breath.

Robby thumped down on your chest, kidding himself with the dull flutter of your eyelashes, knowing it was only through the force of his hammering down on you. “She's alive.”

“Jesus, Jack, you're as cold as ice,” said Dana from somewhere behind Robby.

“I'm fine,” he dismissed. “Robby, you shouldn't be working on her, brother.”

Others in the room stopped, hearing that.

It was protocol family waited outside, that if family or friends ever came in demanding help the same DNA did not attend. They were too emotionally clouded. To invested to think straight. The last time Robby found himself in this situation: blood pumping in his ears, chest tight was trying to save Jake's girlfriends life.

He'd failed.

The only person to pull him back from that was you.

There'd be nobody if you didn't pull through. He'd be left in that pedes room, never to leave.

“Robby!” Jack tried again.

“Shut up and get me some warm saline!”

“Oh, no,” said Jack, walking around till he was on the other side of your gurney. “No, I'm not going anywhere.”

Robby was still pressing his hands down on your chest when Jack reached over, past the bag they'd finally clamped over on you, and stroked back your hair.

“We're gonna get you through this,” he uttered in an oddly tender moment.

“We need to get a central line in her,” said Matteo.

Jack looked at Robby. “Brother.”

“No.”

“You have to move, we need to get a line in her.”

Robby knew that. He knew so much as a doctor, as chief attending. But he couldn't stop, he physically couldn't bring himself to.

“Robby, man, you gotta let go.”

“I can't... I can't... I can't...” he said. The only thing keeping him sane was the one, two, three, four count in his head, was the cold feeling of your flesh under his hands. “Push three milligrams of epi.”

Jack huffed in frustration, probably the only thing keeping him warm. He marched around your bed to his side. “Robby, so help me god I will drag you out of here if you don't let her go!”

“I can't!” he yelled.

It was selfish but Robby had some how convinced himself he could be selfish with you. He could hold on tighter in the mornings and let you go for the rest of the day. He could watch patients get close to you because he knew it was him who got to kiss you. He could hold back the worst parts of himself to keep you, no matter how much it tore him apart to push you away on the days he wanted to be closest.

No, Robby could never let you go.

If you ever tried to leave him, he'd hold on tighter.

Robby dropped his voice low. “I can't.”

Jack took in a slow breath, a gentle hand on Robby's bicep. “Okay. Okay. You don't have to let her go... but to save her you have to move aside.”

A monitor somewhere in the room beeped.

Slowly, Robby moved from your chest.

The people swarmed you. Someone cut into you, getting a central line in on your other side.

Robby stayed where he was, a hand holding yours tightly as if he could squeeze his own life into yours. He cried- maybe loudly- at the feel of how cold you were.

“What's her temp?” asked Jack.

“Eighty.”

Robby looked up to the monitor reading your vitals. “That's- that's too low.”

“We're getting her warmed up.”

“Get the warm saline.”

“We are.”

Robby leaned over you once the line was placed, brushing back your hair and trying desperately to ignore how cold you were. “You're not dead, you're not,” he said, low for you. Your vitals may have been saying different. “You're not dead.”

“Doctor Robby-”

“Please,” he begged with trembling lips. “Please, don't do this to me.”

A monitor sung low and dry. The classic song of a flatline.

His head jerked up.

Jack caught his stupor and pushed him from you, sending him into Dana's ready hold. “She's going into V-fib!”

Dana held Robby. Physically she wasn't strong enough to hold him back but Robby wasn't strong enough to fight against her. “Robby... Robby, c'mon, let's wait outside.”

He was shaking his head.

“Panels, charge to three hundred!” called out Jack.

Dana had just managed to push him out the doors as he shouted clear!

Through the glass Robby watched your body jerk but not respond.

“Please, please, please,” he uttered. His back hit the nurses station, his knees giving out as he slowly slid and sank to the floor.

“Okay, okay,” muttered Dana, falling with him and holding him there.

The Pitt seemed to stand still at the sight of their boss, white faced and hands trembling, brushing back his hair. Noise travelled quick, that it was you in the bed, ribs breaking from compressions, chest hurting from the shock.

Robby's hands clasped in front of him, his star of David chain clenched in his hands. “Please.... she can't do this to me, please.”

Dana tugged on his body, bringing him in closer. With her sharp gaze she pushed everyone else that dared try and get closer away. “C'mon, Robby, she's strong, you know that. And stubborn like hell, huh?”

Robby nodded along with her words, un-sure if he could believe it.

“Charge again, three hundred, let's go!” called Jack, rubbing the panels before everyone backed up. “Clear!”

There was a small beep, a pick up in the line.

“There! Resume compressions!”

“Doctor Robby!” Santos ran up, her gown like a cape around her. She slowed to a stop in front of the two slumped. “Dana. Dana, is it- is it true, is it?”

Robby looked up, tear stained cheeks red.

“Yeah, kid,” said Dana, sadly.

Santo's jaw trembled before she shook her head in resolute, saying one simple word. No. Then she stormed into the room.

Robby knew you favoured Santos and somewhere along the way Robby had come to look for her when an interesting case came in. He came to favour the way you smiled at Santos when she did things right and Robby searched for any smile he could get from you.

So, he pushed himself up on shaky legs and followed her in- back into the chaos that was your room. The blankets had slipped from your body in the shocks and he desperately tried to hold himself back from fixing them.

“Doctor Abbot-” said a nurse or a intern or someone in the room. “It's been thirty minutes.”

“Hold compressions.”

Robby knew it was to check your pulse but he winced when they paused, when your body didn't respond.

“Still asystole, resume compressions.” Jack caught Robby's gaze.

He'd seen that look on Jack's face. Had seen the hopelessness and the devastation at losing a patient not only in his face but in his own reflection. “Don't-”

Jack lowered his head. “Robby.”

“No, Jack, her temp is not up! She's cold,” he said, walking back around the room. He rolled his shoulders back, pulling on gloves. If nobody else was going to save you he would. “She is not dead! She's not- She's not dead till she's warm and dead! Push another round of epi!”

Matteo jumped at the chance.

Jack stood by Robby's side. “Just... prepare yourself, okay? She's been down a long time. She might not come back from this.”

Robby glanced back at him. “She will.”

“And even if she did-”

Robby cut him off. “She will.”

They couldn't send you up to the OR- there was nothing surgical to do. They couldn't send you to the ICU- you weren't stable. They could work on you for hours, in the pitts of hell.

Robby didn't stop Jesse from compressions but he leant over you, leaning his lips into your forehead. “You'll come back, you have to come back.”

“What's her temp?”

“We're up to eighty-eight.”

“When was our last epi?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Push again.”

At some point Santos pushed her through the crowd, taking compressions from Jesse who she deemed weak-armed.

“Doctor Santos-” said Jack, the only one seeing this for what it was. A disaster. One more emotional person in the room wasn't going to help. If you woke you might just choke on tears from them all.

“I can do it,” she argued, nodding to the night attending. “I can do it.”

Santos was as stubborn as you. If anyone might have been able to beat her heart into beating, it would be her.

Robby leant over you. Robby could feel your skin cold against his lips and he pet back any bit of you he could reach, trying to warm you. He caught Jack's tired gaze, his lifeless stare like he was already grieving you. “I never told her I love her, Jack.”

“Get an APG,” said Santos.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Tell her now.”

Robby looked back down to you, past the bag pushing your breath, through Santos keeping your heart beat. He kissed your forehead. “I-” he chocked on the words. He couldn't remember a time where he'd said it and meant it like he does now.

He knew Jack was giving him a way out. He knew Jack was giving him the chance to live with no regrets.

But Robby would regret not dying with you if you didn't make it.

There was a silence throughout the room, not even the beating of a monitor keeping him sane.

Robby's hot tears hit your cheeks.

“Temp?”

“Up to neinty.”

“Halt compressions.”

Santos paused.

Nothing.

Then a shrill beeping.

If Robby thought it was life he was going to be souly mistaken.

“She's in V-fib again!”

Robby backed away, tucking his head down to his chest as he watched Jack get the panels, rub the gel on.

“Charge to three hundred- clear!”

Your body jolted again, blankets slipping down your bare body and Robby suddenly wanted to cover you, wanted to pull every tube keeping you alive out and just hold you. Warm or cold. He just wanted to hold you.

“Again, charge. Clear!”

There was a silence. Maybe you were so angry at him you were proving a point by dying. You were a good swimmer. Why didn't you swim?

Everyone in the room paused, seeming to wait for someone to call it.

Jack looked at Robby.

“No,” he said, pushing past everyone.

“Robby-” interjected Jack.

He snatched the panels from Jack. “Charge again, three hundred-”

“-Robby-”

“I said charge again!”

The room was heavy as Jesse moved to do so, charging them up.

“Clear!”

Your body jerked again, violent. Your face remained peaceful, Santos remained off to the side, waiting for orders, waiting to know. Everyone else was looking to each other, silently deciding who would be the one to drag Robby away from your body.

“Wait- there!”

In the middle of them all there sat a pick up in your heart.

The room jumped into discussion about how to carry on, about how to keep the momentum going while Robby pressed his stethoscope into his ears and the other down on you. He listened, catching the beat of your heart.

“She's warm, she's warm and she's alive,” said Jack with a smile.

You were dreaming. It was a sweet sort of thing.

It was a warm body blanketing you and hands holding you. It was lips you knew pressing along you and drawing out pleasure. There were three tiny words spoken into flesh.

It was Robby, his head laid upon your chest in your bed and mumbling the words, tracing every letter over your ribs. When you reached for his hair, when you tried to say the words again you coughed up water instead. You clawed at your throat. You chocked in panic-

Then there was a beeping bringing you out of sweet dreams.

“Hey, hey. Honey? Honey, can you look at me?” a warm hand was running over your head, pushing back your hair. “Open your eyes.”

You tried to. They felt heavy. Sleep heavy.

But someone was coaxing you through it, holding your hand and brushing back your hair.

“Yeah, there we go... there we go, hey.”

The lights were bright, almost painfully so as they blared in your eyes. It took you a couple blinks to get them right but when you did there was a dark shadow looming over you, blocking out the lights.

There was the ragged pull of a beard and the slope of a well known nose.

You breathed in and smelt burnt coffee and hand sanitiser. “Robby?”

He smiled, crows feet at his eyes. “Hey, honey.”

You pushed up your arm, finding it oddly weak like it had been weighted down. You found an IV down in your arm. The white lights... the white walls and the IV all made slow sense.

“Wh-what?”

“Easy, easy.” Robby grabbed at your arms, holding you. He helped you sit up, reaching over and plumping your pillow and holding you there.

Only when you heard the monitor calming down and felt the pain lessen did Robby let you go, perching close on the bed next to you and grabbing your hand again.

“What happened?” you asked, finding your throat parched.

Robby sighed, pulling your hand into your lap. “There was an accident at the docks. You went with the responders to help. Your patient had a seizure and...”

You remembered the dock, the wind cold and the yells. You remembered Jack was there and the patient, he was seizing. “What happened to him?” you asked.

Robby stared at you, a small shake in his head as his brows pinched together.

“The seizing, the patient.”

There was a small look of disbelief, a soft smile creasing his chapped lips.

“What?”

His smile turned sharp with affection as he looked down. Your hand, engulfed in his, was pressed to his lips. He stayed like that as the scenes played in his head and the smile slowly started to fall. “You were brought in, your body temp was eighty. Jack was- was doing compressions. We- we had to shock you, so much, you don't- ” Robby sighed out a shaky breath. “You don't know what it was like.”

The dock, the bodies, Jack. The bite of cold water like a thousand daggers piercing into your skin. You had gasped for breath, limbs flailing.

It had felt like dying.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your chest, pain blooming.

“You might be a bit burnt, from the shocks. And we were- we did compressions for a while so you broke a rib,” he said, chocking down a cry.

You squeezed his hand. “We?”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest. His lips were pursed.

You'd seen Robby cry before, in shades of red face and clenched palms and always trying to hide it away. But you'd never seen him try to hide away as much as he was now. Your hand escaped his hold, caressing down his cheek.

“Robby.... hey....”

His lips puckered to your palm, pressing a kiss there. His palm was large as he held your hand up to his cheek.

“Hey,” you cooed.

Robby glanced up at you. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“No, no it's not, it's not okay,” Robby took a shaky breath and scooted closer. His arm came over you, bracing himself on the bed. “You almost died.”

You searched his eyes but only found pain and defeat. He looked tired. Really tired. “But I didn't.”

“That's not the point,” he said. He brushed back strands of your hair, kept petting it down in a way you guessed comforted him more. “Jack was doing compressions for almost an hour. Your temp was down the whole time. We shocked you four times. Four.”

Robby's voice broke.

“You almost died and the last thing we did was argue.”

You didn't know what to say to that. The words I'm sorry were already rising and like he sensed it, Robby gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah... probably wasn't the best timing.”

“We're never arguing again, you understand?”

You smirked, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You could feel the race of his pulse. “Give us a week.”

“No,” said Robby. “Never.”

Something sour tasted it your mouth.

“Because we- are we, broken up?”

“No. No. We are not,” he said sternly.

You let out a breath. “Good. Good. I'd have hated to wake up from near death to that.”

“I should have listened to you,” he uttered. “Noelle is nothing, everyone else is nothing, nobody means anything to me, only you. Only ever you. And I am never letting you go again, ever.” He kissed your hand again.

You smiled at him. “What if I need to pee?”

“You can hold my hand.”

“And on mornings where I have really bad morning breath?” you teased.

“That doesn't happen, you know that,” Robby smiled.

Without any arguments left you gave up, sinking into your sheets with a shiver.

Robby frowned. “Are you cold?” he was up at once, pulling at the covers over you and the blankets. He was all but tucking you in as you laid there, taking it.

“Robby.”

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You tugged at his arm, pulling him down.

“What are you- what are you doing?” he chuckled, lightly.

“I'm cold, you're a human furnace, hold me.”

Robby was on the verge of complaining even as you pulled him down on the bed. He grunted at the squeak of the bed, was careful of the monitors assessing you. He squeezed in, pulling the rail back up as you curled up to the side to give him space. “These beds are not made for two.”

“You'll have to get onto the attending about that,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.”

“Meh, I can persuade him, if you like.”

Robby smirked. “He'll do whatever you say.”

His arm slung over your shoulder and rested there, holding your body into him till your head was on his chest and you could feel the beat of his heart. It was just like you dream. Of comfort and warmth.

Robby said your name in a whisper.

You looked up at him to see his eyes screwed shut before releasing them.

“I...”

You watched the move of his lips. “Robby, you don't have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said. Robby's hand was careful as he cupped your face.

“You don't have to say it just because of what happened.”

“I'm not, believe me, I'm not,” he said. “I love you.”

It was the words you wanted to hear, the words you needed to know, the very thing to finish off your dream.

“Robby-” you interjected.

“I love you,” he smiled, grinning wide at you. “I've said it now, I don't think you'll get me to shut up.” There was fake remorse in his voice, a feigned sort of sorry.

“I can think of a few ways.”

Robby's lips were warm and giving as you puckered your up to his, kissing him slow. If you lost your breath kissing him it'd be a hell of a way to go.

Robby smiled against your lips. “That might work.”

His body half rolled onto yours, the bed creaking in protest. Only when your monitor warned of you losing breath did he pull away and check the machine.

“Get some rest, Robby, you look like you need it,” you said, kissing his cheek slow.

There was fight of protest in him that quickly gave up.

Robby looked up at you, wide eyed. “Can I stay?”

You nodded.

“I love you.”

The words he'd given you, the words he'd never forget to say. The words he'd spoken and would never take back.

Nurses turned to look at him and then back to you and Jack, un-sure of which immovable force was greater.

You only focused on the woman in front of you. Bruises up her arms, blood on her cut-away clothes, tubes coming out of her and into her, monitors beeping with life signs fleeting.

“It's a hypotensive pelvic bleed,” you said through your face screwed in concentration.

“A REBOA? Are you serious, right now?”

“I'm here, supervising, brother,” said Jack, still caved over you like he could protect you from Robby's wrath.

“You're not her attending,” Robby argued.

“No but I'm an attending.”

You could hear Robby's sharp inhale of breath, picture the clock of his head in annoyance and the tight pinch of his eyes. You knew every small give away of his that he didn't know he had. The tightness of his muscles when angers, the way he clutches at his chest for his star of David when silently scared.

The tension in the room chocked you.

Jack was still at your side, a comfort, a gentle wave against the sharp rocks. “Keep going.”

Robby said your name, an edge to it you'd never heard before.

Looking past Jack you found Robbie. He stood blocking the door, gowned up already, arms over his chest. His brows were pulled in, eyes dark as they levelled on you. He was danger dressed as a man.

But in front of you there was Jack, nodding encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

Your hands moved to carry on in spite of Robby's sigh.

“Okay... good...” said Jack as you pushed in the needle. “Femoral artery, couple inches. All right, let's guide wire and introduce the sheath.”

You pushed and did what Jack said, careful under his guidance.

Robby watched all the while, walking slowly around. He knew how well you preened under praise and careful instruction, like a cat purring at an owners touch. Robby knew because it was always him, ever since you began as a med student to intern to resident he'd been there to build you up, crafting you into a perfect doctor.

His perfect doctor.

Apparently he didn't like to share.

“How much saline have you pushed?” asked Robby.

“Five CC'S,” said Jack, without entertaining his attitude.

“Your carotid is weak,” said Robby. “Is it even there?”

“Yes,” you said.

Jack caught your gaze behind your goggles, pleading silently. You hadn't worked with him as much as you had Robby, or Langdon or almost anyone in the day shift but he seemed to catch on to your needs at once. “You know what to do.”

With his words you proceeded.

“Push another three CC'S of saline in the balloon,” you ordered.

“Injecting.”

There was a moment of silence as the saline was passed through tubes into the woman.

“How we looking?” asked Robby.

“Radial is up, pressure's up too- BP hundred-and-ten,” said Donnie.

For the first time since Jack dragged you into the trauma to teach you a REBOA, you looked at the patients face. At the blankness of it, the blood splattered at her cheek. There was colour returning to her.

“Check the wound,” said Jack.

You did so, the wound at her pelvis are that had been gushing on arrival had stopped bleeding.

“Looks okay,” you said.

Jack's gloved hand squeezed your gowned shoulder, blood of the woman passing between the two of you. However, it was the physical contact that broke you from your trance, pulling you up taller. “Good job, you saved her life, another couple minutes she wouldn't have made it.”

“She's still not out the woods yet,” said Robby.

You looked back at him with enough time to catch an un-characteristic roll of his eyes.

“Surgery can take her now,” said Jesse from the phone.

“Oh, finally they're ready for us?” teased Jack as he moved around the gurney. “Now that they've missed all the fun.” He passed you a wink that sent butterflies in your stomach rolling around.

The team pulled off gowns and gloves, pulling the gurney out the room.

“Wait-” said Robby, arm out stopping you as you went to follow.

The doors shut behind the gurney before Jack could understand you were behind, trapped in a room with a bear of a man who was failing at concealing his anger.

You waited for him to begin. Whether it were to be a lecture or an approval that you saved a woman's life, you wanted it over and done. The adrenaline was coursing through your body in crashing waves of red. You'd crash if you didn't calm. “There was no time for anything else-”

“- save it-”

“- there was no time for me to come and get you-”

“- stop!”

You stepped back, hands balled at your sides.

It wasn't un-common for any member of staff at PTMC to have Robby Robinavitch yell and demand the stars and moons from a person. It was scary to have him yelling at you, his deemed shadow and golden girl.

Since day one everyone knew you held a special place in Robby's heart.

“I saved a patient's life,” you defended. Was that not the most important thing to be doing? Could you not be attending to at least two other patients while he stood- imposing- in front of you.

“Doing an extremely risky procedure that is only reserved for the senior residents which you are not,” he scoffed out.

“Doctor Abbot was at my side the whole time, he talked me through every step.”

Robby shook his head, chuckling and looking around the room as if to be anywhere but with you. “Abbot-”

“- he believed me capable,” you said. “Don't you think I'm capable?”

His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he turned away from you, stretching his hand to the back of his head and flattening the hair there. When he turned back to you he took a step closer, watching the toes of his shoes meet yours.

“Do you know why I'm angry?”

No, you really didn't.

You took in a deep breath, meeting his eyes that lowered to yours. “Because I performed a high risk procedure.”

“A high risk procedure without me,” he corrected. “You're on day, not night. I'm your attending, not Jack. You get me when you're doing something like that, you understand?”

There was little room for argument. Your body trembled, the mixture of blood on your gloves and the beating of your heart heard in your ears. The lights of trauma two were suddenly too bright; walls too sterile. You nodded.

Robby tsked. “Do you understand?”

Every word was punctured with anger.

You rose to all your height. “Yes, I understand.”

He didn't dismiss you, only jutted his head back as he dragged a hand over his beard.

Without a word, you dismissed yourself.

“I just don't get why he was so.... angry,” you admit quietly.

The lights of the bar were dimmed in a golden light, casting sun set gazes around the bar Jack had told you was a good place to get a drink. He'd led you to a small table by a window with the blinds pulled down, his hand- the one that had saved so many lives- splayed out on the small of your back.

Somewhere along the night Jack's chair had scraped around closer to you. So close with every inhale you could catch the musk on him and his arm was comfortably slung around the back of your chair.

There were two empty whiskey glasses of Jack's and you were still cradling your first, down to the dregs.

“It's Robby,” said Jack with a shrug of his shoulders, but it didn't stop the crease in his brows.

“But he's never been like that with me.”

Was it the fact you'd seemingly lost your favouritism bothering you? More than you cared to admit. More so the fact you didn't understand why he'd yelled.

Why the flare of anger had burned brighter with you saving a life than anyone else?

Why your body had trembled at the rise of his voice.

Jack's body tilted toward yours, head bowed low as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Oh, come on....”

You slurped the last from your straw and looked at him. “What?”

“You don't have to play dumb with me.”

Your own body gravitated towards him. “Play dumb? I'm not playing dumb, what are you talking about?”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head to himself. He sipped the last of his drink. “Robby's...” he trailed off.

“Robby's...”

Jack levelled his gaze to yours. “He likes you.”

The words sat frozen in your brain. You knew Robby must have had some soft spot for you, you knew he liked you. But the way Jack said it, a teasing lift to his voice and the serious gaze of his eyes suggested it was more than the competence of your skills as a doctor that had Robby's affection.

“He doesn't,” you chuckled.

“He does,” said Jack, nodding along with your words.

“How would you know?”

Jack's cheeks dusted a faint pink, the rain on the window behind you dropping like mini thunderstorms. “Believe me, I know.”

You waited for more clarification.

“You have no idea the kind of effect you have on old men like us.”

Like us. Jack didn't just speak for Robby but himself. The pink in his cheeks, the hand on your back earlier. The heat from him was all different now. A wanting.

“Old men?” you smirked.

Jack's eyes darted between your eyes and lips. “Yeah, old men.”

“You're not that old, are you?”

Jack tilts his head side to side.

You peer closer at him as if trying to find the lines of age in his face. “Younger than Robby though, right?”

Jack nods. “Younger than Robby, if that makes any difference.”

“Any difference to what?” you asked, stirring the straw against the ice in one hand, the other holding your chin.

“To you.”

Under the table Jack's fingers traced over your knee, gently, as if he was trying to go un-noticed. You felt it anyhow. Felt as his fingers gripped your knee when you pushed your leg against his.

He watched you, analysing.

“Well,” you began, pushing your leg to kick over the other under the table and moving his hand further up your leg, till his all too eager fingers were splayed over your thigh. “What kind of effect is that?”

Jack was always a serious man at work. Competent and well kept. You didn't expect him to be so well versed in 'playing games'. “I dunno if I can tell you.”

“No?”

Jack shook his head, eyes lingering over his lips and his head tilted to the side, watching you. “I could show you?”

There was lip gloss stain over the straw in your glass, you saw it catch Jack's eyes as he pushed away your empty glasses to provide more space on the table.

“See any time you look at us, it's like-like a tingling sensation,” he said. “Like when you know someone's got their eyes on you.”

His hand that had been riding higher at your thigh darted away, leaving a sudden tremble of everything cold through your body. Instead, he rested his elbow at the table and beckoned your hand to his. He didn't hold it, instead, spread your fingers out and put palm to palm in a tender touch.

“And then when you touch us, it gets worse,” he uttered, eyes stuck on where your palms met. Jack's hand moved around yours, playing with your fingers.

“Worse?” you ask.

“A good worse. Good shivers,” said Jack, pulling at a finger.

“I touch you enough for you to gather all that?”

Jack's dark gaze found yours again. He bit down on his bottom lip. “Not nearly enough as I'd like.”

The door of the bar opened and a gush of wind cooled the heat on your skin. But Jack's eyes were like a furnace that you were sitting too close to, burning yourself and delighting in it. When the door shut again with an un-oiled squeak, Jack reached over.

He plucked the necklace charm from against your chest, the brush of his knuckles against your chest. “Pretty necklace.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky un-characteristically.

“You get it yourself?”

“No, it was a present.”

It was almost as if he didn't have to ask who had gifted it to you. Whose hands had brushed back your hair in the middle of a shift and clasped it around the back of your neck.

Or maybe he just didn't want to know.

Jack's apartment was everything that made him.

As you passed the kitchen and he peeled off his jacket, keeping his lips close enough to breathe you in, you could smell the coffee from the morning plastered to the walls.

When he pressed you up to the sofa to shove his hands down your pants and slide a finger into your wet pussy your fingers scratched at some blanket he had thrown over the back of it.

You caught a glimpse of pictures around the place, a frame of meddles too but his place came to you in flashes and glimpses through pleasure.

“I'm gonna show you,” he uttered against your mouth as another finger slipped into you, worked inside of you. They curled up, your body moving into him at the feeling. “Just how I want to touch you.”

The car ride over had been torture enough. He could hardly get himself inside the car, stealing himself away from you. But your lips had been at his neck at every stop sign and red light. Your hand had ghosted over his crotch and the hardening length of him. As occupied as you'd been in each other in the front seats of his car you'd been beeped at twice.

“Jack,” your voice whispered, lips dragging against his as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, pulling at the seams of your panties.

“I'm gonna show you just how Robby wants to touch you.”

You wish the name didn't have the effect it did. That the fury you felt at him for how he yelled didn't turn to a throb in your core when Jack said his name.

“You're touching me, Jack,” you said, breathless.

“Yeah... yeah,” he said. “You like that I'm touching you?”

You nodded as his fingers retracted, finding your clit and wetting the bud of nerves, circling it.

“Say it,” said Jack. “Say it.”

“Yes, I like it.”

Jack grinned into the curve of your neck as his fingers plunged back in, working you open and spreading your wetness of the black of your panties. “God, you're making such a mess for me baby, aren't you?”

He worked you open a little longer, mumbling encouragement with every moan and throw back of your head. 'So pretty, arg, you're so pretty baby.'

By the time your stomach was coiling tight like a snake ready to pounce Jack removed his hand from your pants and kissed you again. It was a hard kiss, his clean hand grasping your cheek and keeping you still as he forcefully worked his lips against yours, like it had only just clocked in his head it was you he had on his lips, it was you he was turning to putty in his hand. Like he wanted to forge you into his lips

“Not done yet,” said Jack, hands sliding down to your hips as he guides his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in. “I wanna make you moan on my tongue, like Robby wishes he could, yeah?”

Your body betrayed you, shivering again in anticipation.

Jack's hands stirred you by the hips, urging you to his room. He pushed the door open over your head, licking into your mouth.

“Please... don't mention Robby right now,” you said as Jack fell slowly to his knees in front of you.

His brows rose. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled down your pants, helping you step out of them. “No? You don't want me to mention Robby?” he asked.

You shook your head, looking away from him. You knew you'd soaked yourself through by the small touches and passionate kisses from Jack. But you didn't need to see the realisation hit when he realised Robby's name had as much effect on you as Jack's own touches.

“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me,” said Jack.

With a tight squeeze, you looked at him, seeing the attending of the night shift get closer to your heat.

“See, I think, you like when I say his name, huh?” his nose nudged your clothed clit. “Robby.”

Jack licked a stripe up your pussy, gathering your want through the cloth.

You were left, mouth agape, to catch your breath. Your hands didn't know where to go till Jack peeled off his shirt and guided your hands to his shoulders, your nails digging into the freckled skin there.

Jack wet his tongue with his spit before he rubbed it along your panties again, kissing you there. “I think you're so wet for me, but you're wet for Robby too, huh?”

“Jus-just you, Jack,” you gasped.

He swept a finger into your panties and let the elastic snap back against your skin.

Your body jolted in its wake.

“Not just me, don't lie,” he said, darkly.

In the morning would you realise what you'd done? Jack wasn't your attending but an attending none the less and Robby's friend- brother- at that. Although you and Robby were nothing more than colleagues, it didn't feel right to have Jack licking up your want with his name on his tongue.

“Liars don't get to come, you know,” he said. “So, you get this wet when you think about me?”

“Y-Yes.”

You could feel Jack's smile against your thigh as he pressed a kiss there.

Jack hooked two fingers around the bands of your panties and slowly dragged them down. “Do you get this wet when you think about our Doctor Robby?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” you gasped, your body curling up in the relief of letting go.

Yes, you liked Robby's extra attention. You couldn't even be left angry at his chastising you when it sent a wave of need through you, settling in your core. When you'd been at the bar with Jack, touching him in ways you'd thought about touching your own attending, almost wishing he would storm through the door and see the two of you.

“Good girl.”

Quickly Jack tilted his head back and found purchase in your pussy.

His tongue laid flat against your core.

It didn't stay in one place long. It explored all around you, tasting you for the first time and mapping out delicate spots. He slipped between your folds like he was always supposed to be there, moaning into you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders. “Mmh, Jack!”

He licked you up, spreading the mess of your want around and cleaning it up. “Taking my tongue so well,” he said against you. He dragged his lips down your thigh, wet tongue dragging up and down.

Your legs trembled as Jack spread the lips of your pussy and buried himself in there again. He pressed his thumb onto your clit, your body lurching at the pressure.

“Oh fuck, J-Jack!”

“Pull my hair, pull my hair,” he said into you.

Your did so. Your hand fell into the short strands of his salt and pepper hair, twirling into the strands and tugging just enough to rip a groan from him.

Jack buried himself into your further, his nose nudging into you deeper and deeper till he was almost trying to be inside of you.

Every time your eyes fluttered shut Jack pulled back, easing up on his work of your pussy and easing the orgasm that was slowly building up.

“No, no- eyes on me, keep your eyes on me, baby,” he said.

You looked down to him. “Jack, I want- I want to come.”

“I know, I know you do baby,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit again. “You will, I promise, I promise.”

He eased himself up from his knees and helped off your shirt and peeled off your bra before he latched himself onto your breast.

Your back arched into him. His hands felt larger than ever as they curled around your waist and held you in. He groped at your breast, watching it jiggle as he moved before swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“Jack-”

“God, I wish Robby were here,” said Jack as he switched his attention to your other.

“Wh-what?” you didn't know if you'd heard him right.

Jack looked at your breasts instead of you, dedicating time to licking up each of them. “Wish Robby could see how good a girl you're being,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he wasn't talking to you. “How responsive you are. Would you like that? Would you like Robby to watch?”

You imagined it, closing your eyes.

Jack let you.

You pictured Robby sat on the bed, watching. Would he watch with his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose? Would he keep his hands to himself or want to touch and play? You imagined how big he was, if he'd get hard watching.

If he'd touch. If he'd stand behind you while Jack kissed along your breasts. Would Robby dedicate enough time to the back of you?

“You want Robby?” asked Jack.

Anyone else eating you out or with hands on your chest wouldn't want another mans name on your lips.

Jack seemed to thrive on it.

“Yes,” you gasped.

Jack reached back up to you. “Yeah.... yeah...” his nose ghosted yours as he inched closer to kiss you.

In the slim lighting of his bed room you could see the shine of his lips from your arousal, the burn of red at his cheeks. There was a clink as he un-did his belt, throwing it behind him as he slowly pulled down his trousers.

First you saw the prosthetic of his leg before you trailed up, past the scars, to the heavy set of his cock. It flushed red at the tip, a leak of pre-cum running down. It stood tall onto the thin, greying hair down his sternum.

“Jack-” you reached for him, wrapping your hand around him.

“Ah- ahh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you slowly pumped him. “You feel so good. God, Robby doesn't know what he's missing.”

You tangled your tongue with his as you pumped, growing confident in every pump, in every leak of his cock, in ever groan of him into your mouth.

Would Robby guide you to holding Jack's man hood in your hand? Would his own hand wrap around your wrist and guide you up and down, muttering how good you were doing.

It was like you could hear him in your head.

'What a good girl doing what you're told, so responsive,' you imagined the heavy set of his tongue dragging over your pulse as you wrapped your arm around Jack's shoulders, smothering him in closer.

“I wish-” you said against his lips, making a mess out of you mouth as you squeezed his cock. “I wish Robby were here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too baby,” said Jack, slowly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and peeling back your hand. He pulled two of your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of himself off and into the warmth of his mouth. “Next time.”

Jack eased you back on his bed, crawling over you.

You shuffled up, sitting up on his headboard. “Do you- do you want me to?”

Jack's brows pulled together as he brushed back your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “To what, baby?”

“To ride you? Would it be easier on your leg?”

Jack smiled, love sick. “That's very kind of you sweetheart. Next time, I'll let you ride me like I'm a damn horse,” he whispered as he slowly lowered you down. “Right now I want you to finish on my tongue. Then I'm gonna really fuck you like I've wanted to for so long.”

You watched with a bite to your lip as Jack rolled a condom over his cock before hovering over you.

He stirred the base of his cock against your pussy, rubbing the arousal of you over your slit.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, yes.”

Would Robby hold you against him, keep your legs spread for Jack? Or would Jack insist on Robby going first.

“Beg for it, baby.”

Before your words could leave your mouth the familiar buzz of your phone echoed between you.

Maybe anyone else would have ignored it, sent it to voicemail or let it ring. Except Jack- he moved down his bed, reaching for your pants and fishing out your phone. He smirked down at the contact before holding the phone out to you.

“Answer it.”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him. “Wh-what?”

“Answer him,” he said, grabbing your hand and putting the phone it in.

Robby.

You looked to Jack, having no time to ask if he was serious before he was descending on the bed again. His eyes were pointed, gaze locked on you.

You answered, holding the phone to your ear. “H-hey, Robby.”

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

Did he know you'd left the bar with Jack? Did he hear his name called from both your lips?

“Yeah, everything's okay.”

Jack smirked at you.

“I've been calling you all night, you didn't answer,” you could hear the slight accusation in his voice, the small anger you hadn't bowed and answered the phone when he called. He wasn't good at hiding it though maybe he thought he was.

“Sorry I-”

Jack slid two fingers inside of you at once and pumped them without warning.

You caught your breath in your throat. “- I was busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

Robby stirred down the line. “You okay?”

Jack was looming close enough to you, nodding for you to pull the phone back enough for him to hear.

“Yeah, it's just, cold in my apartment,” you lied.

Jack's brows rose, he mouthed the word, cold?

“Still haven't sorted that heating, huh?” Robby chuckled down the line. “You need someone to come sort that out for you.”

Jack withdrew his hand, dragging those two fingers from inside of you around you, before lowering himself back down. He spread you open, lying his tongue back in.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Want me to come take a look at it?” asked Robby.

“Not- not right now,” you pushed your phone back as Robby scoffed lightly. You sort Jack's attention, begging for the end of the torture he was inciting. His eyes were a haze of lust as he only watched you, shaking his head slowly to feel all around you.

His hand pushed your knee up to your chest, welcoming him in deeper.

“Are you still mad at me for earlier?”

“Y-yes!”

“You are?”

You'd forgot Robby down the line, forgot his question, could only feel the depth of Jack's tongue in you. You bit down on the bottom of your lip. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I am!”

“Okay- well, i'm sorry,” he said down the line. “You just have no idea what seeing you with Jack does to me.”

Jack moaned into you, sending vibrations through your body. His nose nudged against your clit, circling his tongue in you. Your mouth opened, a moan ripping through you that Jack managed to stifle quickly by slamming his hand over your mouth.

“- It's just, I think of you as one of mine,” Robby continued down the line, un-aware's to Jack tapping your phone on speaker and placing it next to you.

Jack dropped his mouth next to your ear, nipping at the lobe. “As mine,” he uttered.

“- seeing you with Jack, I can't stand it, you know I can't-”

Jack went back down to his work, two fingers working inside of you as he sucked in your clit. Your walls are like silk that his fingers thread through with ease, your mind blank with pleasure.

Your moans continued to be muffled by his mouth, he dared not move it.

“- you know I... you know I favour you over anybody else in that ER-”

Your hand reached out for your phone, sure you would come soon and needed to end the phone call.

Jack reached out for you. “Be nice, be nice.”

You picked up the phone and put it to your ear, Jack sucking diligently at your bundle of nerves. “Robby, I-”

“What is it? You sound like you're burning up? You need me?”

Yes, you needed him.

Jack curled his fingers up and you came with a loud gasp, ending the call abruptly as your world shattered in stars of want. Your back arched into Jack's mouth as he laid there open mouthed, taking what you could give him like a man dying of thirst.

Only when your breathing calmed and you could open your eyes to make sense of the world- and Jack's room- did Jack slowly move out his fingers, gently crawling up you body with kisses like butterflies.

You laughed when Jack reached your neck. “Oh god.”

“What?” he said, laughing along with you.

“I hung up on Robby.”

Being back at your apartment was nice, but as you wandered around your space it didn’t feel as homey as you remembered it. The fridge hum sounded familiar, the creak of your couch didn’t sound too-plastic-y and the art on the wall didn’t feel like a bargain hunter find at TJ Maxx. Despite the space being catered exactly for you, it didn’t feel right. Something was missing.

(You didn’t want to admit what was missing and no one could make you).

The first night back in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel the echoes of Jack and Robby’s lips against your skin. Even in your memory the touch felt so real. If you closed your eyes and focused, it almost felt like they were in the room with you, holding you between them.

Their touch was haunting; you’d never experienced anything like it. Did it feel so intense because of soulmate connections or because it had been years and years of emotional build up? You were hard pressed to say, all you knew is that laying in your bed hours away from them the only thing you were sure of was how intensely you craved their touch.

You glanced at your alarm clock next your bed. Should you call them? Is that crazy?

Toggling to your text chain on your phone, you found the photo Jack sent of their schedule; he started sending it not long after you reconnected, all but insisting you schedule yourself in whenever they were both free. Neither Jack nor Robby were at work tonight…your finger toggled over the call button for Robby’s phone (he was slightly more reliable in answering a phone call).

You all were something, more than friends, but nothing was defined. The only real conversation you all had about everything was a not-long talk with Jack about how he felt about everything. There was still so much unsaid between all of you.

Before you could second guess yourself, you hit call.

After the third ring you contemplated hanging up, but then a warm, raspy voiced answered:

“Hey, how was your drive?”

It was Jack.

“Bland,” you said curling up in under your covers. “What do you do on nights you and Robby aren’t working?”

“He sleeps and I don’t,” Jack said simply. You could hear him puttering around in the kitchen based on the sound a closing drawer. “My sleep schedule never went back to normal after I lost my leg.”

“Why not, do you think?”

“Phatom limb pain for the first few years, but now it’s mainly age and stress.”

You hummed and tried to readjust your pillow.

“You good over there?” He asked, amusement in his voice.

“I can’t get comfortable. I’ve missed my bed so much, but no matter which way I lay, nothing feels right.”

“What do you normally do when you get restless?”

The automatic answer, the one you defaulted to, was masturbating but you couldn’t say that could you?

“Read,” you said.

Jack laughed and said, “Bullshit. You’re such a bad liar for a lawyer.”

“I don’t lie as a lawyer,” you grumbled. “I don’t need to, I’m too clever.”

“Yeah?” Jack goaded, a smile in his voice. You heard him sit down in one of their leather chairs.

“Yeah, that’s why they pay me more money than I know what to do with.”

“And why you work 70 hour weeks,” he added.

“Only sometimes.”

“And when you’re not working, what do you do to relax?”

“You know what I do,” you told him quietly.

“Tell me.”

“Jack,” you whined.

“C’mon baby, tell me how you touch yourself.”

His voice, already raspy and soft, was deeper with want. It wasn’t hard to imagine him on his leather chair, leaning back watching you hungrily.

“Only if you do the same,” you replied.

“Ladies first,” he said.

“Most of the time, it’s just a vibrator and whatever smut I’m reading at the moment.”

“Do you not turn yourself on?” He asked, it didn’t sound judgmental but curious.

“It’s an ends to a mean most of the time,” you nearly whispered. “Sorry, I know that’s not sexy.”

Jack cleared his throat. “I think you underestimate what I find sexy. The last time I saw you, I felt you up and you were wearing business professional.”

You laughed softly. “I guess that’s true.”

“Tell me a fantasy then,” he replied. “What do you think about when you want to get off.”

“Right now? How you and Robby pinned me between you both. I swear I can feel you still,” you told him.

“I thought about that too after you left. You were so warm and soft against me,” he murmured.

“How do you touch yourself, Jack?”

“With my hand.”

You snorted. “Sexy.”

“I like really firm pressure, that rotates,” he told you, voice breathy and a little nervous.

“Do you like someone playing with your balls?” You tried to sound sexy but were positive you missed the mark; it wasn’t something that came naturally to you.

“Y-yeah,” he hissed.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“How could I not?”

“What do you think about to get off?” You asked him, quietly.

There was the soft pant of Jack’s breath against the phone as he stroked himself.

“You and Robby on your knees for me. Sometimes us on our knees for you,” he managed tightly.

“Not for Robby?”

“He’s surprisingly submissive,” Jack halfway laughed.

“Do you want me to tell you what I would want to do if I was on my knees for you?”

“I’m not sure I could take it,” he said breathlessly. “But yes, please.”

“I would start gently, rubbing at you over the fabric of your boxers, as needy as you want me to be—”

“Mmm, would you beg?” He asked. It didn’t sound mean or even as dominant as he might have intended. It sounded desperate.

“I would beg and beg until you let me take off your underwear, then I would worship you with my mouth. Starting at your thighs, I’ve always wanted to leave a hickey there.”

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

“Then I would suck on your balls before moving to your dick,” you said. “The whole time staring at you, showing you how much I’m enjoying myself.”

“Are you wet, baby?”

You didn’t think he was asking about the hypothetical you in the fantasy.

“Want me to check?”

“Please,” he whined.

Slowly, you slid your hands under the waistband of your shorts. Unsurprisingly you were soaked.

“Thinking about sucking your dick made me soaked,” you said, lightly toying with your clit.

“Will you touch yourself?”

“Sure,” you said rolling over to your side table sifting for your vibrator. Jack groaned over the phone when he heard it turn on. You turned it on the lowest setting, but it still was intense once in contact with your clit. “Shit.”

“What…what else would you do?” He panted.

“I’d beg you to use my throat,” you managed, though you were squeakier than intended. “Use me however you want to feel good. I’ll suck and suck until you’re finishing down my throat.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he moaned.

“Then when you’re finally done, I’ll beg you to use my vibrator on me. Beg you to let me cum for you.”

“I’ll bet you sound so pretty when you cum,” he said, a soft grunt suggesting he was getting close.

“I want to hear you, Jack,” you told him. “Are you close?”

“So close,” he huffed.

“Think of me on my knees in front of you, where do you want to cum? My face? My tits?”

“Tits,” he managed.

“Show me what you sound like, baby. Paint my tits,” you hissed, arching into the vibrator.

There was a long, low groan from Jack that ended with his heavy breathing.

“Fuck, baby. That was crazy. How close are you?”

“Very,” you sighed.

“Would you do this on display for us? Pleasure yourself for our enjoyment? We’re older now, can’t always get it up.”

“Where do you want me to be?” You asked, closing your eyes letting him paint you a picture.

“We’d put you on the bed, legs out. Your cute little vibrator between your legs.”

“Would you both touch me?”

“Would you want us to?”

“Desperately,” you breathed.

“Then sure, baby. There wouldn’t be a piece of your skin we wouldn’t memorize the feeling of. Maybe if you asked nicely, Robby would shove his thick fingers in your cunt,” Jack told you.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you hissed.

“Just like that, baby. Think about how it would feel for us to watch you come apart.”

It wasn’t hard. Just like it wasn’t hard to imagine Jack using your mouth, it wasn’t hard to imagine their hands on you as you inched closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Jack,” you said between gritted teeth. “Tell me I cum. Count me down.”

“I can do that,” he sounded pleased and a little surprised. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Cum for me, baby.”

A sharp keening sound left your mouth as your body finally let go for Jack. The orgasm tore through you more intense than you’d felt in years. For a minute you sat their twitching, the remnants of the orgasm slowly abating.

“I was right,” Jack said.

“About what?”

“You sound very pretty when you cum.”

You laughed and felt yourself warm at his compliment. “You do too, you know. This is the new fantasy, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, that was very hot, Dr. Abbot.”

“You cannot ‘Dr. Abbot’ me,” he groaned.

“Why not?”

“I’ll get a boner the next time a patient says my name!” He protested with a laugh.

“Devastating for me,” you replied with a smile.

“You feel any better?”

“A little, still feel like something is missing,” you said without thinking.

“And what do you think is missing?”

You blinked and quieter than you expected said, “You and Robby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When the stickiness between your thighs began to irritate you, you briefly hung up promising to call back when you were settled again. After cleaning yourself up, you slid back into bed and called Jack back on his phone this time.

“Hey,” he said, you could feel his smile from 200 miles away.

“Hey,” you replied.

For awhile you both talked about nothing and everything. The conversation ranged from opinions on The Matrix to a brief but thorough cultural critique on people’s fear of sharks. When you felt yourself drifting, Jack cleared his throat and said,

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“When you fantasize…” he trailed off and the beginning had your marginally more awake. “Do you ever think about you and Robby?”

“Do you really want to talk about this?” You asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I think I want to know.”

Jack knew that Robby had once or twice but the guilt had been too overwhelming to continually revisit.

“I did once, but not in a…sexual way, I guess. It’s kind of a boner killer,” you said sardonically. “I wonder what the difference would be—what it would be like to know that I care for the other person and they care for me. Maybe hate-fucking was theoretically hot, but in practice…it was empty. We didn’t bond. Or at least I didn’t.”

Soulmate bonding was well-studied but not understood. Most scientists believed that soul bonds were generated from intercourse combined with an intense endorphin rush. Most of the time that occurred during intense and passionate sex between soulmates.

“Do you regret it?”

“Everyday,” you said simply. “Why did you forgive us?”

It was a question that had been on your mind ever since the men had come back into your life.

“Actually, why did you forgive me? With Robby there was so much history and love, but we weren’t…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure how to finish the thought. Thankfully, Jack knew what you meant.

“Because, I knew that if I had been in that storage room with you, I would have done the same thing,” he said. “I’m not being gregarious when I say that, either. I was halfway in love with you before I found out about the marks. It made sense when I realized, of course, but I was dreaming of you in our bed long before you and Robby fucked.”

“Huh.”

“Was that too much?”

“No of course not,” you said. “I guess I hadn’t realized. I thought it was one sided, my feelings for you.”

“It was not,” he laughed, a little acerbically. “Can you forgive me?”

“For what?” You asked, astounded.

“For flirting with you when I was already in a relationship. For constantly seeking you out when I knew—well, at the time I thought I knew—we couldn’t be anything.”

You were silent for a minute trying to figure out how to handle him apologizing for something that felt so small in comparison.

Eventually, you said, “Yes, I forgive you.”

“I forgive you, too.”

— —

Robby found himself taking one of his few breaks outside. The fall chill had settled on the city and there was a short seasonal lull before the winter freeze finally hit in a few weeks. Leaning against the pillar, one knee uncomfortably drawn up towards his chest (he was not as young as he used to be), he was scrolling through his phone looking at the thread of texts between you both.

It was silly, he knew. But staring at your dry, slightly too-lawerly text messages made him miss you slightly less.

Ever since the kiss, there hadn’t been any conversation about what was going to happen moving forward. Robby wanted desperately to beg you to move back to Pittsburgh, to ditch even looking for an apartment and move in with him and Jack. But Jack was right, you had been more hesitant and closed off as you both reconnected.

Months ago he wondered what it was like to be loved by you and he wasn’t sure he knew yet, but he did know what it was like to eat Chinese food on your squeaky work couch. He knew what it was like to kiss you with Jack’s taste still lingering on your lips; he knew what it felt like to be cared about—if that paper plan had anything to say about it.

So looking through your last text messages was not a replacement for your presence, but it would be tolerable until you returned.

——

You crossed city lines back into Pittsburgh a little after eight pm on Friday evening. The familiar shape of downtown rose against the deep indigo sky, windows glowing like scattered embers as the city settled into another cold October night. Instead of taking the turn to your awful temporary apartment, you made your way to Jack and Robby’s.

Pulling up to their small bungalow, the knot that had lived beneath your ribs all week eased, if only by a little.

It was Robby who opened the door and for a split second he took your breath away.

He wasn’t even dressed up, in fact he looked a little grumpy in a rumpled t-shirt and ratty pajama pants. His feet were covered in thick wool socks to combat the growing chill at night. His necklace shimmered in the porch light, the familiar Star of David catching the warm glow of the porch light. His dark greying hair was mussed and messy, and the tiredness beneath his eyes did nothing to lessen how impossibly handsome he looked.

“Jack stepped out to the store,” Robby said softly.

You stepped through the door and lightly brushed Robby on the arm as you entered. He cleared his throat and said,

“Are you…are you spending the night?”

The night before they asked you to come over and stay for the weekend. There was no obligation for sex. They just wanted to be around you. That simple request had made you smile. It felt precious in a way you hadn’t expected. Before leaving your apartment in Harrisburg, you had grabbed your favorite blankets and pillows, desperate for some comfort of home regardless of whether you were at the impersonal penthouse or your soulmates’ slightly more personal house. Neither place was truly yours yet, but this one was beginning to feel less borrowed every time you walked through the door.

“I am,” you confirmed. “I am just too lazy to grab my bag.”

“Let me grab it,” he said, holding his hand out for your keys.

You handed them over, Robby’s slightly rough skin brushing against your own. The touch lasted barely a second, but it was enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

You watched from the entryway as Robby slipped on shoes and walked to your trunk. Cold air drifted in through the open doorway, carrying the sharp scent of winter and distant chimney smoke. He grabbed the duffle bag easily and then peeked over at you before asking,

“Do you want the bedding?”

“Just the green blanket!” you called.

He picked up the fuzzy blanket, bunching it beneath one arm, and walked back inside. After shutting the door, he herded you back to the guest room. The very one he had slept in the night he fucked you. Instead of dwelling on the pit that grew in his stomach when thinking about his bad decisions, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Beating himself up didn’t help anything. It never changed the past, and it certainly didn’t make the future easier.

“This is soft,” Robby said, gesturing to the blanket as he placed your duffle on the mostly empty dresser. The room itself remained simple—fresh sheets tucked tightly onto the bed, a single lamp casting pools of amber light across the hardwood floor, the faint scent of cedar lingering from last time their cleaning lady mopped.

“Thank you, a friend got it for my birthday.”

“You seem to have really good friends,” he replied.

“I really do,” you said softly. Thinking of them made your chest ache with gratitude. They had held you together through impossible years and impossible clusterfucks of your own making .

“What do they think about all this?”

“I don’t think they know what to think. They’re holding out judgment for now,” you said, digging through your bag. Your fingers searched between folded sweaters until they brushed the small wrapped package tucked safely inside. “Do you know when Jack will be back?”

“Thirty minutes probably.”

“Okay, I have something for you both. It’s super small.”

“Do I get a hint?” Robby asked, approaching you.

He reached out and toyed with your fingers, absentmindedly tracing the spaces between them before pulling you flush with his body.

He smelled good. He smelled like a classic cologne. It reminded you of the ocean and leather and wood, clean without being too overpowering. Burying yourself against his body, arms wrapped around his waist, you couldn’t resist a deep inhale. Your nose bumped the side of his neck as you luxuriated in his scent. It settled something restless inside you that you hadn’t even realized had been fraying all week.

“Nope,” you replied, muffled against his body. “You smell really good.”

“You smell like car,” he replied, a smile evident in his voice.

You rolled your eyes.

“I drove three hours.”

“We really did miss you,” he said softly, his hands landing on your hips. His thumbs rubbed absent circles through your sweater without him seeming to notice. With a few slow steps he backed you against the doorjamb of the bedroom.

Tilting your head up, you gazed at his weather-worn skin and surprisingly soft beard. The lines around his eyes had deepened over the past week, evidence of long shifts and too little sleep, yet there was something lighter in them now that you were here. Mischief danced behind his eyes as he gazed down at you. He seemed happy, at least happier.

The first brush of his lips was not shocking. But strength in his grip on your hips brought you back to the heady way he’d man handled you in the storage closet all those years ago. Against your will and better judgement, you body reacted: melting against his whims desperate to feel his lips on every part of your skin.

“We had a plan,” Robby mumbled between harsh kisses and knee-wobbling bites.

“This feels like a good plan,” you croaked.

“We were going to wine and dine you,” he said moving down your face to suck at your jaw. “We were going to make sweet and gentle love to you. To finally bond with you after all this fucking time.”

You couldn’t manage to form words under his welcomed assault. The only thing keeping you standing was his grip on your hips and sheer will power. Your brain was unable to communicate with non-relevant systems. It didn’t give a flying fuck about your knees’ stability while Robby’s skilled mouth was rendering you dumb.

“But you are just so fucking kissable. Grabable.”

“I like the grabbing,” you managed between gasps. He bit down at the juncture of your shoulder and neck making you keen, scrambling to get a hold of him in case you legs really did give out.

“But I promised Jack,” Robby sighed pulling away.

Your chest was heaving and it took your brain multiple seconds to process how worked up Robby had gotten you only to pull away. Whining, you leaned back heavily against the door jam. He looked far too pleased with himself and you couldn’t help but glare at him.

“You’re a bastard,” you hissed.

Robby grinned at you, his forefinger tracing a line from the edge of your shoulder, up your neck, so he could tilt your chin upwards. He placed a soft peck on your lips.

“I know. Want to shower?”

“Fucking need it,” you grumbled to yourself.

Annoyed and still remarkably turned on you gathered your change of clothes and petulantly stomped to the bathroom. You could hear Robby’s chuckles behind you. You weren’t sure when or where, but you knew that you would be getting your revenge on the man and it would be sweet.

By the time you showered, dried off and got dressed, Jack returned. You walked out to their living room hearing his muffled laughter. It had been a long day. In a different world you might have tried to wear something sexy, but you couldn’t be fucked. An old law school tshirt and pajama shorts were all you could stomach putting on your body.

Turns out you didn’t need to worry, because when you walked in both men stared at you with such rapt attention they would have missed the rapture. Robby swallowed hard while Jack’s eyes never stayed stationary—taking in your bare legs and relaxed appearance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not in a suit,” Jack said.

He was sitting next to Robby on the couch. A few inches of space separating them. When you stepped close enough, Jack yanked you towards them, situating you between the two men. Jack’s hands were immediately on your body: one on your thigh lightly squeezing and the other wrapped around your waist. Robby’s hand was not far behind, rubbing up and down your bare thigh with excruciatingly slow speed.

“If I’d known this is what would happen wearing ratty pajamas,” you mumbled feeling excited and terrified for what was coming next.

“Can we…?”

“Yeah, yes. Please,” you croaked out to Jack’s question.

“I want to savor you, baby,” Jack said.

He pulled you against his body, slotting his lips against yours. You remembered what Robby had said only a few minutes before—that the plan was nice and slow. That was fine, great even. But you spent the last week craving these men and finally the itch you’d couldn’t quite scratch was being soothed.

You didn’t want slow and gentle.

Summoning the ferocity of the woman you were underneath the fear and trepidation, you swung your leg over Jack, straddling his lap. Pulling away just enough to glance at Robby, you said,

“You get to watch for now, you dick.”

Ignoring Jack’s confused look, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him almost angrily. Distantly, you heard Robby’s amused huff and the ghost of his hand touching you and Jack. This is what he got for working you up before Jack got home.

Jack’s face was rough with the early vestiges of a five o’clock shadow but you didn’t care. The scratch of his skin was more than tolerable when you were finally the kissing the man you fell in love with. Forcefully, you kissed and mouthed down his jaw, lightly sucking before focusing your attention on his neck.

“Holy shit,” Jack moaned, throwing his head back.

Even through your thundering heart beat, you could feel the frantic pulse of Jack’s underneath your lips. For a moment you paused, pressed lips against his jugular. Magical was the only way you could describe the understanding of how alive Jack was beneath you. Each pump of his heart kept him alive. He was alive and he cared about you.

Despite the everything, he cared about you.

Everyone you’d spoken to describe bonding with a soulmate differently. Some felt a jolt, some had a wave of emotions, but for you everything went silent. It echoed in your ears until the only thing you could see was Jack. The world zeroed in on him and even Robby’s soft caress wasn’t felt.

The first time the men told you about their sensory association you had thought it sounded like bullshit. You never said that, of course. But even though neither of them had bonded to you, they had these synesthestetic associations with you.

But as the world faded, and only you and Jack remained, you felt it:

On a dark, foggy coast he was the lighthouse guiding you home.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped.

“Oh my god,” croaked Jack.

Both of you were breathing heavy as you felt the bond settle into your body. The bond securing felt like someone had cracked a warm egg over your head and it was seeping down all the way to your toes. You shivered and looked at Jack.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, before pulling your harshly against him any pretense of softness forgotten.

Robby hadn’t said anything and you wondered if his bond would also solidify tonight.

“What do I feel like?” Jack asked in between frantic kisses. He held you tightly against his body, as though terrified you might float away.

“A lighthouse on a dark and foggy night,” you told him.

Jack made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Did you bond?” Robby asked softly.

Jack didn’t respond—his lips too busy on yours, but he pulled Robby in closer. Awkwardly, Robby began to suck on Jack’s neck in the way you had been doing before the bond snapped to life.

Jack’s touch felt more intense and lingered longer. Goosebumps followed his fingers in a way they didn’t with Robby. You knew the bond felt intense the first few days, but you felt like teetering on a knife’s edge. It was overwhelming but you couldn’t pull away.

Still, bonded or not, you needed air. It wasn’t until your lungs were burning did you finally break away.

Panting, you let Jack and Robby continue without you. Watching Robby shift, so his arm was still around you even while focused on Jack. The dichotomy of Robby was his terrifying wrath and equally powerful compassion. He raged and fought and lashed out, but he also ensured that you felt him bracing you no matter what.

Without a doubt, you knew if you began to tip over on Jack’s lap it would be Robby who would catch you.

The man annoyed the shit out of you. He egged you on. He cared so tenderly for you that even after he blew up his life, bid you goodbye with a small paper airplane. That paper airplane had followed you for years, and as you stared at the man in front you fully and sloppily making out with Jack, the world became fuzzy.

It was different than it was with Jack. Bonding with Jack felt like one in a million—nothing else mattered. With Robby, the bond felt inevitable. You felt a string wrap around your chest tightly, tethering you to the grumpy, caustic and warm hearted man.

He froze against Jack’s lips but his grip on you tightened almost painfully.

Robby was an explosive gust of wind before a storm. He battered against you and pushed you forward, he cleansed and healed. The string that tethered you together snapped taut and you could feel it weave through your body. If Jack seeped, Robby burrowed. There was no way you could rid yourself of either man. They became integrated with the very nature of who you were.

When the world righted again, Robby’s arm felt like a brand against your skin and you couldn’t help but squirm.

“Did you bond too?” Jack asked, a grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Robby muttered pulling back to stare at you.

“A gust of stormwind,” you told him.

“A powerful trumpet solo,” he said back you.

“The strength of an evergreen forest,” Jack added.

“I feel a little insane,” you admitted. “It’s a head rush.”

Not only was it a head rush, but you felt absolutely soaked. There was no amount of foreplay that could have created the watershed in your pants.

“Fuck me, one of you, please,” you said.

Both men zeroed in on you. Their gazes felt predatory and Robby pulled you with him as he stood.

“Bedroom,” he growled and you felt it in your core. He pushed you towards their room.

Robby pulled you onto the bed after him. He sat up against the headboard, thoughtlessly pushing off the pillows and blankets. Who cares where they landed? All you needed was their touch on your desperate skin. Robby pulled at your tshirt and you let it go willingly, pulling off your shorts as well.

In your haste, you lost your balance and nearly tipped over the bed. Robby caught you, just like you knew he would.

As though it were a sixth sense, you could feel Jack’s eyes on your bare body. (Robby was taking his time undressing which was not fair). The overwhelm felt astronomical and Jack’s slow gait felt positively glacial.

“Jack,” you said, turning to look at him. His darkened eyes drank in your nude form. “Please.”

Robby looked up at him and said, “You first.”

The whine that came from you surprised yourself and Robby. It didn’t sound like anything you thought you could make. Hastily, Robby grabbed some of the pillows from the floor and created a small pile.

“Lay down, sweetheart. Prop yourself up for Jack,” he said.

You recalled Jack saying that Robby was more submissive and you wondered if your relationship with him—bickering and bothering—brought out his oft under-used bedroom dominance. Ultimately, you didn’t care.

So you draped yourself over the pillows, face down. They propped up your hips for better access. For deeper access. Robby’s long legs were splayed out and you in between them. The bed dipped when Jack sat on the edge. Turning slightly, you saw him naked (you mourned missing him undress) and taking off his prosthetic.

Once unburdened, he slowly crawled up behind you, settling himself between your open legs. You positively ached.

Robby’s forefinger and thumb grabbed your chin and titled your face up towards his.

“Do you need warming up?”

You shook your head. “I’m pretty certain I’m wet enough to take you both at once.”

Jack’s hands, that had been caressing your hips so softly, gripped tightly at your words.

“We should consider that for later,” he bit out.

“We really should,” Robby agreed, taking your lips. You were bending at and awkward angle to reach him, but the comfort didn’t matter so much as how Jack felt lining himself against you.

“She’s so wet Robby,” he said. “Like a fucking fountain.”

“That for us, sweetheart? You finally getting what you want.”

The tip of Jack’s dick ran the length of your core, never quite pushing inside. You groaned trying to push back against him but a sharp slap against your ass made you still. The contact echoed through your body, making you tingle and shiver. You were pretty certain it made you wetter.

Before you could complain again, Jack slid inside forcefully. The movement knocked you forward and you collapsed onto Robby’s lap, burying your head in his hip. On a different night, when you weren’t completely overwhelmed, you would have tried to suck his dick. But tonight, the simple movement of Jack inside you ground all coherent thoughts to a halt.

Jack folded his body over yours, burying himself deeply inside you. Yoh knew that you were whining, groaning, and making all kinds of incoherent noises. Clutching onto Robby help ground you, but the simple act of contact still made your fingers tingle.

Having Jack fuck you with a force that knocked the headboard against the wall, felt like fireworks exploding in your chest. Each drag of his cock through your walls made you clench. With one hand dug into Robby’s thigh, you reached behind to hold onto Jack. Cocooned between the men should have felt suffocating. Instead, each breath lit your nerves on fire.

“Kiss me,” Jack said. At first you thought he was talking to you, but when you felt Robby lean forward, you whined. You wanted to see.

When you tried to pull away, Robby’s hand kept your head and body exactly where it was buried against his skin.

“It’s so nice when she doesn’t fight us all the time,” Robby mumbled in between kisses.

You might be fuck drunk, but you still were you. In response to his comment you bit him hard.

“Fucking hell,” he exclaimed jumping.

Instead of letting go, you held on and to your surprise he moaned.

“He likes some pain,” Jack laughed. Leaning over you, no longer kissing Robby—who was making indecent noises as you bit him—he continued to whisper, “Does it feel good to have me so deep inside. I knew you’d feel like coming home baby.”

It was too hard to find words to respond, so you let go of Robby and whined for Jack. His thrusts were rhythmic and deep. He wasn’t going fast, but his speed made stars dance behind your eyes.

“So good for me,” Jack muttered. You clenched at his words. “Fuck Robby, she might be tighter than you.”

Still panting against Robby’s side, it was insane to feel so singularly worshipped and degraded by Jack. Robby held your face against him, muffling your cries or maybe just keeping them for himself. You could hear the two men kissing again which meant that Jack was no longer draped along your back. Your skin itched without his touch.

“Please,” you said not quite sure what you were asking for.

Jack’s hand slid under your hips and fingers circled your clit. It was impossible to control the way you jolted under his finger tips. So singularly focused on how it felt to be pounded by Jack, you almost missed the way Robby stroked his cock next to your face. You managed to move over just enough to reach the base of his cock with your tongue.

Instead of letting you. Robby stuck his two fingers in your mouth and said. “Suck.”

Later he would tell you it was because any touch from you made him want to blow his load.

You sucked on his fingers as though auditioning to be able to touch his cock.

“Oh sweetheart,” Robby hissed. “Your tongue.”

“She feels so good, Mike,” Jack moaned.

“Feels like she was made for us,” he replied. “Does it feel like that sweetheart? Like Jack’s cock was made to touch every little spot inside of you?”

Jack’s heavy thrusts were becoming frantic, as were his circles on your clit. Your orgasm was building, starting in your core and radiating outwards until you trembled and twitched between the men crying out. You could hear Jack’s grunts as you tight clenching finally wore down his self control.

When Jack collapsed onto you, every inch of his skin pressed upon yours, you purred. This is what your body craved. It wanted to feel the men so intricately woven into you life. If given the chance, you would burrow yourself into their chests.

Jack’s softly brushed back your hair.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby. You did so well for me,” he mumbled pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulder. You were jello in their grasp.

You whined when Jack pulled back, unsticking himself from you. In fact, he pulled away entirely, settling himself on the opposite end of the bed.

“Cmon sweetheart,” cooed Robby.

You felt your body being moved by the men until you were laying on Jack’s chest, his thighs keeping yours open, hands toying with your nipples. In your haze, you barely understood the changes until you felt Robby kneeling over both of you, his cock pressing into your abused cunt.

“Fuck,” you hissed. “I don’t think I can.”

You were so sensitive.

“You can take him, baby,” whispered Jack in your ear. “Look at his pretty cock all red and angry for you. Don’t you want to know what you do to him?”

Robby pushed into your pussy at a glacial pace, making you feel every stretch and touch and caress. His long groan when fully sheathed inside sent a wave of arousal through you. Having both men focus on you was dizzying.

“So much,” you mumbled.

Robby draped himself over you, pressing himself invariably deeper. You swore you could feel him in your throat. He didn’t pound into you like Jack had, instead he rolled his hips sending motes of pleasure through your body that had you shaking.

“So warm and wet. Feels like coming home,” he growled.

He leaned past you and kissed Jack. Their sloppy noises ratcheting your senses higher and higher. Jack hadn’t stopped his attention on your nipples. Each tweak was timed with a roll of Robby’s hips. For a a few minutes there were just the sounds of Robby’s slick cock stroking you, the smack of their lips together, and your own quiet keening as the men used you for their pleasure.

It was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“Isn’t her pussy so nice?” Jack asked licking the shell of your ear; you shuddered.

“Made for us,” Robby agreed. “Made for our pleasure and made for us to pleasure.”

Your whine sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

“Aww, she’s fucked out,” Robby cooed.

He leaned down again, this time slotting his lips with you. The caress of his lips and tongue, combined with his languid strokes, emptied your brain of anything other than the two men. Your two soulmates. Being pressed between them while the bond solidified had you hazy and utterly incapable of higher thought.

“Taking us so well baby,” Jack murmured. “Cmon, cum on Robby’s dick, too. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

One of Jack’s hands slipped between your body and Robby’s to circle your clit again. It was too much. You were already too sensitive from your first orgasm, now with Robby filling you so deeply and Jack not giving your overwrought nerves a moment, you felt yourself writhing against them.

“Fuck baby,” Jack hissed.

“Clenching so hard on me,” Robby panted. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You both,” you managed. It felt like an unassailable truth. There was no one in the world who would be able to make you feel like this.

“Are you close?” Robby asked. You nodded.

“Cum for us. Show the neighbors what a good girl we have,” Jack told you.

His command finally gave your body permission to lose control. White, hot pleasure coursed through you. It was almost too intense to enjoy. You definitely screamed and maybe raked your nails across Robby’s back while Jack’s lips tickled the side of your neck. Distantly you were aware Robby himself also came, but it was lost in the sensations of your body.

When you finally came back to awareness, you managed to croak:

“Please tell me it’s not always like that.”

Robby was still braced over you and Jack. You could feel him, but he wasn’t putting any weight on your body. The entirety of your weight was pressing on Jack, but you couldn’t even think about moving yet.

“No,” Jack said, brushing your hair slightly. He seemed to enjoy the contact. “It’s always intense for awhile after you bond, but since you bonded twice…”

You groaned.

“Really hot, though,” Robby added. “Jack slid into you and it’s like I watched your brain shut down.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I can’t move.”

Between Robby and Jack, they managed to roll you off and onto the bed. While Jack held you—you still craved contact even if you wanted them to stay far away from your cunt—Robby went to grab something to clean everyone up.

He came back in with a rag and your pajamas.

He was so gentle as wiped you down, softly apologizing when you twitched under his care. He tossed the rag at Jack and it landed on his chest with a wet “plop”. Robby had slid on a pair of short and a tshirt.

“Take the shirt off,” you said as you slid your underwear back on. You were foregoing the shirt for now.

“Yes ma’am,” Robby laughed. He slid into bed next to you and you ditched Jack’s body for Robby.

His long arms wrapped around you and he nuzzled the side of your face. His bare skin against yours soothes the prickling sensation of your soulmate bond.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched painfully. All the history and memories and yet you still were laying in their bed. They still were telling you they loved you. You felt yourself tear up a bit. Before you could respond, Jack was against your back. Being held by the two men finally allowed you to relax, melting into their embrace.

“I love you,” Jack said. “I love you both.”

Jack preened when he felt you relax into them. Over the last six month of knowing you and spending time with you, all he wanted was to make your life easier. He wanted to make you feel seen and cared for in ways, he was pretty certain no one had ever done for you.

Recognizing that his mere presence allowed you to calm down so much, your already noddle-like body became pliable between him and Robby was exhilarating. He bonded with you. He felt the world completely stop except for you. All he wanted for the rest of his life is to feel you relax when he held you.

“I love you both, too,” you said softly.

Robby kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger against your skin. He reached for Jack’s body on your other side desperate to hold you both. His heart felt so full and content for the first time in a long time. There wasn’t this feeling of missingness—of knowing you were out in the world and not in bed with him and Jack. He was almost asleep when you quietly said,

“I’m moving back to Pittsburgh.”

Robby was suddenly wide awake.

“Really?” Jack asked.

“Transfer was approved today,” you said softly.

“Move in with us,” Robby said suddenly. Technically he and Jack hadn’t talked about it but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that’s what Jack wanted too.

“Please,” Jack echoed. “I want to see you more than just dinner in your sad office.”

You laughed and wiggled on your back in between the men.

“I’ll draw up a contract,” you said.

Robby snorted, “Is that obnoxious lawyer for yes?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied grinning.

“You’ll move in?” Jack asked.

“I will.”

Jack made a happy noise and began to pepper your face in kisses, making you giggle and push him away.

Robby threaded his fingers through Jack’s and rested them on your bare stomach.

“I love you both, so much.”

——

Robby was halfway to work when he realized his keys had a new small keychain on them. At a crosswalk, he paused and saw a tiny silver paper airplane, not quite the size of his thumbnail, dangling from a short chain. On one side were Jack’s initials and on the other side were yours.

Hanging on Jack’s keys was an identical paper airplane, because no matter how far away you traveled, they would be waiting for you at home.

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You’d gone a whole half hour without thinking of him, which you think must be a sort of record at this point. You’d been trying to get over the guy for months, and Trinity told you the best way to do that was by getting under someone else. Turns out it wasn’t as foolproof as she made it out to be.

“You gonna get that?” Park wonders suddenly, slurring slightly when he pulls back from you for the first time in several minutes. His thin lips are slightly swollen from his kisses and slightly rosy from your lipstick. Your spit glistens on his chin like gloss.

Your heavy eyes flit back and forth between his for a moment. “…What?”

“Your phone,” he says. “This is, like, the third time it’s gone off.”

You blink hard and turn your head against the arm of the couch, to where your purse slouches on the floor beside you. Your phone vibrates inside, glowing faintly within its depths. You can see half the caller ID from here — Jack (ABSOLUTELY DO NOT ANSWER). Your stomach swirls with a sick feeling that your body almost mistakes for excitement.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Brendon’s expression darkens immediately.

He can tell who it is by the look on your face — a subtle annoyance mixed with a touch of longing. He leans away from you with a huff, slouching back against the corner of the sofa with his muscular thighs spread and his arms propped along the back. He couldn’t hide his irritation if he tried, because this was the first time he’s ever had to compete with another man for another woman’s affection. (The fact that this man was nearly twice his age only rubbed salt into the wound.)

“You should ignore it, you know?” he tells you, half-muffled behind his hand as he swipes lingering desire from his heavy eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, I know—” you sigh and sit further up, not bothering to adjust the dropping sleeve of your dress as you bring the phone up to your jaw. “—What?” you snap.

“Wow,” Jack laughs. His familiar, gritty voice sounds much louder in the quiet of Brendon’s expansive apartment. You hate how much it soothes you. “Good evening to you, too.”

“I’m busy, Jack. What do you want?”

“There’s a patient here asking for you,” he says, a bit more solemn now. His voice goes a little distant on the other line, like he’s looking over his shoulder at something. “Name’s Smith. Bethany. Her chart says she was here two nights ago for a—”

“Yeah,” you sigh, and let all your lingering annoyance evaporate on the exhaled breath. “I know. I treated her.”

“So I’m sure you know why she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone else.”

You avert your gaze, tugging anxiously at a thread in the hem of your dress until it becomes a more noticeable problem than before. Bethany was a young kid, a good one, who got herself mixed up with a string of bad people. She came in a couple nights ago after a particularly brutal assault, and insisted she didn’t need any help when you offered it to her. You told her, however, to swear to come back in if things ever got too bad again, that you’d help her with no questions asked.

The night came much sooner than you thought.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” you huff. “Don’t let her leave—”

You hang up before he can utter another word and pretend not to notice Park’s glaring as you slide off the couch. “There’s no way you’re leaving right now,” he scoffs, watching with an emotionless grin as you toe your shoe back on.

“It’s a patient—”

“It’s Jack,” he corrects with a dry laugh. “How do you not see that? He’s doing this on purpose because he knows we’re out together.”

“He wouldn’t lie to me about a patient,” you huff and stand to full height, slinging the strap of your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door. How quickly you’ll drop everything when he comes calling, a cynical voice in the back of your head berates you.“He’s an asshole, but he isn’t that big of an asshole.”

“Yeah, I beg to differ…”

You flash the man a pleading look from where you stand in his doorway, midnight air rippling in the fabric of your dress — which Park had been so achingly close to ripping off of you.

“You’re not too mad at me, are you?”

“Go save your patient,” Park dismisses with a wave of his head, huffing as he rises off the couch. He heads to the organized minibar by the kitchen island, plucks a clear bottle of amber liquid from the shelf without looking back at you. “And when you’re done, try to save whatever the hell’s left of your judgment.”

You roll your eyes to hide how much his words truly sting and close the door behind you. “Yeah, I’ll see you at work, Shark…”

—

Your kitten heels click along the pristine linoleum as you rush to the workstation from the ambulance bay. The automatic doors swish open and shut behind you, replacing the cool night air with something colder and far more sterile. Chills pebble along your exposed skin as you weave through the familiar chaos of the PTMC, peering through each glass door you pass for any glimpse of the young girl you came to find.

“Lena,” you call to the red-haired nurse.

“Yep?” the older woman responds automatically, right before she glances up from the monitor ahead of her. She smiles at the sight of you and croons, “Well, don’t you look pretty…”

“Thank you…” you smile shakily, as your face flares with a mild embarrassment. Your arms cross over your chest in an instinctive attempt to hide. “I got a call from Jack— Dr. Abbot. Uh, he said Beth, my assault patient from a few days ago, came back in and wanted to see me. Do you know which room she’s in?”

The woman ponders for a moment, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “I think you just missed her…”

“…What?”

“Last I heard, Dr. Abbot was taking care of her,” Lena explains absentmindedly as she turns back to her computer. Her manicured fingers fly across the keyboard while she rambles. “Yeah, he patched her up and sent her home with a few refills of chlorazepam for the withdrawals. I’m pretty sure he gave her some money for a hotel room, too, called one of his police buddies to pick her up and make sure she’s okay for the night. He’s a good guy— It’s a shame it didn’t work out between you two.”

“Work out?” you sputter through an awkward laugh. “I don’t— We never even— I don’t even know what you’re—”

The woman flashes you an unamused look over the top of her cat-eye glasses.

You swallow down the rest of your excuses. “Do you know where he is?”

“Well, he came in after working TEMs today complaining about his shoulder, so… I’m sure he’s somewhere hiding.”

You exhale a grieved sigh, wiping at your tired eyes in a feeble attempt to wake up. “Yeah, I’ll find him…” you grouse and walk off.

“Clean up your lipstick while you’re at it!” the woman calls after you.

You swipe aggressively at your chin with the back of your hand, cursing quietly under your breath as you. “Shit—”

You find Jack with a greater ease than you’d like to admit to. He has a habit of disappearing when he’s hurt — equal parts because he’s stubborn and because he hates nothing more than being fussed over. You find him in the last treatment room at the end of the hall for that reason, where the chaos of the emergency department dims into a distant nothingness.

You open the door without knocking and find Jack sitting on the edge of the exam bed, with a trauma kit spread out neatly on the metal tray before him. His scrub top lies forgotten on the mattress behind him, revealing the freckled expanse of his torso, made of toned muscles and milky-white skin. The sight of him takes your breath away for a fraction of a moment before your brain reminds you to stay angry.

Jack glances up when you enter, with his brows raised to his hairline. His mouth curls into a slow smile as his light eyes rake over your form. “Well… Don’t you clean up nice,” he croons lowly, then motions to his scruffy chin with his pointer finger. “You missed a spot, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” you huff, still scrubbing off the lipstick smudged on your mouth.

“I remember that dress,” the man continues, too casual for his own good, as he tears off a sliver of medical tape. He presses it along the edge of a square bandage with practiced hands and says, “I’m pretty sure you wore it for me once—”

“Where is my patient?”

“Already discharged,” Jack shrugs, then winces when it adds to the ache in his shoulder.

“So you lied to me?” you huff in annoyance, but pluck a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall all the same.

You shove them on and close the distance between you, trudging towards him with all the exasperation of a woman scorned. Jack follows your form with careful eyes, that glimmer distantly with amusement.

“I didn’t lie,” he corrects as you round the bed behind him. He faces ahead while you survey the wound he sports on his left shoulder. The muscles in his back flex slightly when your gloved fingers run over the warm, red scrape — still raw from where the bullet had grazed his vest, and angry at having been left untreated all day. “I just happened to win her over. With my good looks and charming personality.”

You scoff drily. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You reach over the man for the tube of antibiotic ointment sitting on the tray in front of him. Jack inhales, getting a whiff of the musky-sweet scent clinging to your hair and skin. “Oh, wow…” he lilts in a monotone. “You broke out the expensive perfume tonight—”

“Shut up,” you grouse harshly, spreading the ointment along the abrasion with a much softer touch in comparison. He tenses under you, clenching his jaw to hide how much it hurts. You fight the urge to apologize. “How’d this happen to you, anyway?”

“Bullet grazed my vest—”

“You were shot?” you exclaim.

“Shot at,” he corrects, like that makes any difference, and crosses his muscular arms over his bare chest. “A bunch of geniuses thought today was a good day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn’t realize how long it’d take to load the supplies, so… They panicked, obviously, and… All hell broke loose.”

You shake your head at him, swallowing down your rage like bile. He isn’t yours, you remind yourself, you have no right to tell him what he can or cannot do. The words tumble from your mouth anyway.

“I wish you’d stop doing this.”

“I’d rather be shot at than spend a night with Park the Shark— Ow.”

His head whips over his shoulder to glare at you when you press down harder on the wound. “That’s what you get for interrupting my date, asshole,” you spit at him and reach for the prepped bandage on the tray. “God, I cannot believe I keep letting you do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Keep me late. Call me in,” you ramble, pressing the gauze gently to his shoulder. “Sabotage every relationship I try to have, like you weren’t the one who left.”

Silence falls over the two of you, heavy enough to suck all the air out of the room. Jack can hear the quiet buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and the subtle hitch in your breath when you don’t get a response from him. Your bitter laugh sounds much louder in the quiet, along with the pop of your blue gloves as you pluck them off.

“That’s it? I don’t get one of your snarky responses to that?” you scoff and part from his side to chuck the latex into the bin. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— You left that morning like it didn’t mean anything to you, I don’t know why now would be any different.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jack assures you in a low, solemn voice and a mournful glint in his soft eyes.

You almost believe him. You almost feel sorry for him, even. Almost. Until you’re bitterly reminded of the morning you woke up alone in your sun-drenched bedroom, the morning after you and Jack decided to cross a line you swore you never would. You remember calling out his name, and then reaching for your phone when you didn’t get a response, only to find that there was no message from him there either.

You remember how cold the sheets felt, how one side of them was still twisted with his shape. You remember the ache between your thighs as you got ready for the day. You remember the white-hot pain in your chest when he treated you like a stranger the following shift.

“Well, what was it like, then?” you say with a cynical laugh as you migrate to the sink against the wall. The faucet hisses on, spitting out scalding water almost instantly. You revel in the burn as you scrub your hands with a meticulous precision that’s more of an anxious tic than anything. “Because for me it’s like you got what you wanted and then you left—”

“That can’t be how you see it.”

“—And now, you can’t stand that I’m moving on from you,” you continue, then mumble under your breath as you pluck a wad of paper towels from the dispenser. “Or trying to, anyway…”

“I left because I was happy,” Jack blurts for the first time out loud.

Your head snaps over your shoulder. You find the man standing to full height again with a soft grunt in the very back of his throat. He keeps his shirt balled into his fists, fidgeting awkwardly with the fabric. He winces as he adjusts his weight on his prosthetic when he turns to face you.

You blink owlishly back at him. “What?”

“It was the first time I’ve slept in a bed with someone— or with someone since my wife passed,” Jack mumbles, focusing most of his attention on locating the sleeves of his scrub top. “And the first time I woke up not missing her, and I… I felt guilty.”

Your anger ebbs almost instantly. The rage that had been building a home inside of you for so long caves in a landslide.

“I was scared that if I stayed, I’d never be able to leave. And that scared me—” He rambles as he slides his pale arms through the sleeves, grimacing when the bandage on his shoulder tugs slightly. “And I didn’t know how to tell you… I guess I still don’t, if I’m being real honest.”

His voice muffles as he tugs the shirt over his silver curls.

“I thought I was doing us both a favor, and I just… Made it all worse.”

Jack tugs the hem of the black top down his toned stomach. He gives you a strange look — an emotionless, tight-lipped grin and a pair of brows raised to his hairline — not quite happy, but not quite sad either.

Your hands clench tight around the damp paper towel still wadded between them. You forget, momentarily, to respond. You wouldn’t know what to say if you could speak, anyway.

The silence between you swells suddenly with every conversation you never had before, every feeling you both have spent weeks swallowing down. So many months spent hurting, pretending, wasting.

Your eyes catch the blur of a shadow across the room. They widen as they flit away from Jack and toward Samira, who appears suddenly in the glass door, shoes squeaking when she stops suddenly in place at the sight of him standing there. She’s visibly exhausted when she swings the door open, dark eyes heavy and black hair wild. Her chest heaves with heavy breaths beneath her scrub top, as if she’d been searching for quite some time.

“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” she pants, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. They linger briefly on your form. You think this is the first time she’s seen you in anything other than scrubs. “Lena was worried I might be interrupting something.”

Jack doesn’t give her a straight answer. “You need something, Mohan?”

“We got a trauma. Five minutes out,” she tells him. “Possible splenic rupture.”

Jack’s expression hardens. He nods once in concurrence, shifting back into physician mode in a blink.

“Got it,” he says, and waits for the door to shut behind Samira before turning back to you. There’s something distinctly shier in his eyes as he clears his throat and scratches at the back of his corded neck. “I’m, uh— I’m sorry... For sabotaging your date and… Everything before that…”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You nod with a wavering, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, I know…”

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He tilts his scruffy chin to peer down at you from the bridge of his nose. You can tell by his suddenly defensive stance that he’s about to ask you something — or, more specifically, something he’s scared to hear the answer to.

“You going back to Park the Shark?”

Your sheepish smile spreads into something more sincere. “Depends,” you shrug and turn away to chuck the paper towel into the bin.

“On?” Jack crosses his arms over his chest, biceps straining against his scrub sleeves.

“On if you’re gonna let me scrub in or not.”

His pink mouth lifts into a smug half-grin. “Then I guess you’d better go get changed, doc…”

Companion piece to:

Souvenir (NSFW) - Jack Abbot doesn’t do this, he doesn’t fuck strangers in bars.

The Research Paper - A incendiary research paper takes Caleb in a direction he never predicted.

Exes & Ohs - Caleb and you find out you have something in common over dinner.

A Good Girl (NSFW) - Caleb learns how much of a good girl you really are.

A Frigid Bitch - Kirk unveils your secret to the entire E.D after discovering you’re seeing Caleb.

A Beautiful Burst of Chaos - Caleb doesn’t notice the lipstick stain until a client points it out.

Matchmaker - Robby’s realisation about your relationship with Caleb leads to a conversation he doesn’t expect.

Grease Monkey - You didn’t know you had a thing for grease monkeys before you met Caleb.

No Fucking Words (NSFW) - Caleb doesn’t have words for the things you do to him.

Pinwheel (NSFW) - A pinwheel has never been a thing of pleasure for Caleb, not before you.

The Bad News (NSFW) - Things take a turn when Robby receives a 911 text from Caleb.

The Open Door - Caleb and Robby get real with each in the aftermath of the threesome.

A Feral Cat - Michael Robinavitch is the human equivalent of a feral cat.

Right Here - Caleb and you make a promise to each other.

Pre-Polycule Timeline

A Woman Like That Makes You Rethink Some Things

New Tattoo

The Case of The Ex

Reader Changing Her Hair

You know what happens to bad girls.

Caleb and you have played out that role before. You, the naughty little brat that needs a spanking and him the strict disciplinarian who gives you exactly what you need. But now Jesse’s here and you’re bent over his lap, your shorts tugged down your thighs presenting that perfect little ass with that fresh set of ink and it’s time to consider a new dynamic, one that includes the three of you.

“How do you feel about helping me discipline her?” He asks the other man as he unclips his glasses from the neck of his t-shirt, setting them on his features. It’s part of his persona, the one he uses when you need putting back into line. “Not for the tattoo, it’s such a lovely work of art on such a lovely little behind.” You yelp as he swats your other cheek, the one that isn’t inked. “But because she’s been hiding it from me all night.”

“I think...” Jesse drawls him, his fingers running through your cotton candy hair, gripping it as he pulls your head back. You make a precious little sound, a whimper that has Caleb throbbing in his pants as you start to glisten in the low lighting. “I think we need tell her what a good girl she is, that we think she’s fucking beautiful, no matter what.”

Praise…

That’s what Jesse wants to make sure you get during this session. He guesses its overflow from an earlier conversation, an insecurity you’ve vocalised when the two of you were together. Jesse, he’s always been so expressive, and he can tell you want that too, that confidence to be something more than you are. It started with the piercings in your ear, then the hair. Now it’s the tattoo, a flock of birds, five of them flying one after the other. He knows what they stand for.

Him, Jack, Robby, Jesse and you.

You’ve embedded a part of each of them onto your skin. It’s gorgeous, it’s glorious and it deserves a reward.

“What’s your safeword sweetheart?” Caleb asks you, his palm caressing that stinging red mark he’s left on your ass.

“Cedarwood.” You whisper as Jesse’s grasp tightens in your hair. “The scent of your aftershave.”

“Good girl.” He approves and that wetness between your legs, it grows as he sweeps his fingers through it. “He’s right you know? You are fucking beautiful. This cunt…” He presses his fingers in, just the tips and you arch against them making that sweet little noise. “…wish I could eat it out, make you ride Jesse’s face but since we can’t do that with your new ink…”

You whimper as he pulls out, mourning the loss but he presses his fingers to Jesse’s lips, smearing you taste over them. He moans as his silver fox opens his mouth, drawing those thick fingers into that moist cavern. Jesse starts to suck, his tongue running over them until he’s licked every drop of you from Caleb’s digits.

“Is he hard baby?” Caleb asks you as he pushes his fingers in and out of Jesse’s mouth, using his tongue. “Is his dick pushing up against those perfect tits of yours?”

“Yes.” You murmur, arching like a cat so Jesse’s cock rubs over your pert little nipples. “He feels so fucking good Caleb.”

“Hm.” Caleb withdraws his fingers from Jesse’s mouth, slipping them between your legs again. He swirls around your entrance, his thumb tracing briefly stroking over your clit. “Take your top off for him, show him how soft your skin is.”

You grasp the hem of your pyjama top, pulling it up and over your head as Jesse shoves down his basketball shorts and pulls off his own vest. Those silver nipple piercings glint in the light and Caleb longs to get his mouth on them, but right now is about you. There’ll always later for him and Jesse.

You resume your position, over Jesse’s lap, doggy style this time instead of slung over his thighs. “Oh, you want to taste him don’t you sweet thing.” Caleb coos as his palms kneads the unblemished ass cheek, fingers sinking into your skin. “You want to tease that piercing he has in his dick with your tongue while I fuck your pussy with my fingers don’t you?”

“Yes.” You say, your fist wrapping around Jesse’s cock. You give it a gentle stroke, your thumb teasing over the barbel in the top, smearing his pre-cum around and around the tip. Jesse’s head falls back into the couch, his cheeks flushing pink as he starts thrusting into your hand. “Please Caleb, can I?”

“Such a good girl asking permission.” Caleb says, his fingers skate over your pussy again, from clit to slit and than back again. “I think he deserves a thank you for drawing such a pretty design, don’t you?”

Your answer is to lick the tip of Jesse’s dick. Tongue swirling around that silver piercing before you guide it into your mouth. Jesse cries out, his hand threading through your bubblegum locks as his teeth sink into his lower lip, his breath catching.

“Don’t let him come baby.” Caleb warns you, and your palm grasps the base of Jesse’s dick squeezing as Caleb’s fingers delve inside you. “I want him climaxing all over my cock while I’m fucking his ass on that couch.”

You clench around him and Caleb can see you like that idea very much. “Oh pretty girl wants watch. She wants to get herself off while you ride my dick, Jesse.”

Caleb’s fingers curl, finding that sweet spot, the one that has you moaning like a whore around Jesse’s dick.

“Fuck…” The word spits out of Jesse’s mouth as he runs his hand through his own silver curls his hips thrusting up into your mouth. “Oh fuck.”

His hand winds back into your hair, pulling you off his dick with a lewd pop before his ecstasy takes him. You whine but then Caleb’s thumb skates across your clit, fingers pistoning in and out of your pussy as he traces devious circles over that naughty little nub.

You flutter around him, a delicate pulse like butterfly wings but then your breath quickens, the clenching becoming a constant thrum. His name is on your lips as you tighten, the deluge coming in a rush, soaking his fingers as you climax all over them.

He pulls them out and you collapse into Jesse’s lap, your cheek rubbing over his cock leaving a smear of glossy pre-cum staining your skin.

“Such a good girl.” Caleb praises, raising his drenched fingers to his mouth and sucking the taste of you off them. “Such a good fucking girl.”

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