its-forevermore

jack who’d get home right as you were waking up only to take you right back to bed and have his way with you? or robby who’d get home late and pulling you into the shower with him only to spend most of it with his face between your legs?

yeah, you were definitely getting selfish. 

robby hadn’t even made it through the entrance way before jack was on him. he had only gotten so far as to take off his zip up. 

as the pair stumbled to the couch, robby barely squeezed your tucked up knee before hitting the cushions. 

and now you’re here, confided to the smaller loveseat as the obscene noises of their makeout filled the living room. 

“guys,” you try and make your voice a little firmer now. and that was definitely difficult with how your body was reacting to watching. 

robby rolls his head. jack’s lips hit his cheek this time, a groan escaping at the loss of contact. he pivots, lips latching onto the underside of robby’s jaw. 

you gulp. his eyes are dark and god, robby’s lips are such a perfect shade of kiss pink. 

“stop being a brat,” robby jeers. 

it’s true. you have been spending a lot of one-on-one time with your boys. it’s not your fault they gave into you like ken dolls. 

maybe you were a brat. 

you know you won’t have robby’s attention for long. jack’s growing needer, clearly unsatisfied with only having his neck to go for. 

you slink off the loveseat, palms of your hands hitting the carpet as you crawl over to the couch. you lean back on your heels, head perfectly level with the two men. 

“need something?”

you meet his gaze. “you’re forgetting about me.”

“not forgetting,” robby shuts that doubt down immediately. “haven’t seen jack all week.”

“yeah but you haven’t seen me all day!” you exclaim like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“c’mon doll,” jack’s big hand comes up to cradle your cheek. “can’t give me and mikey some time?”

you pout. “not when you’re kissing like that.”

robby narrows his eyes. “aww. is someone jealous?”

yes. yes you are. 

the blush that dances across your cheeks gives your clear answer away. 

“was having us on rotation not enough?” robby adds. 

jack’s attention is back on the attending. “don’t be mean. she’s just being needy.”

god you loved your little dynamic. 

“how about i give you a kiss, doll,” jack offers. “and then once i get mikey for a little i’ll share.”

you could handle sitting back for a round. but only having a single kiss to hold you over? unacceptable. 

“just one?” you push your lip out to try and reason.  

jack doesn’t respond, only shifting forward to press his lips firmly against yours. just as you try and push further, he’s pulling right back.

you give one more attempt, sporting your best doe eyes as a final plea for just one more kiss. 

and like always, jack falls into your trap. 

he kisses you again, still careful to give you just enough to hold you over. 

“you’re too nice to her,” robby remarks. 

you push yourself off of your knees, heading back to your spot on the loveseat. a perfect vantage point. 

“I'm looking at hotels to stay in till they figure it all out,” you said.

“Your insurance going to cover that?” he asked.

You peered at him through the sleep you didn't get. “You're funny this morning, Ken, you know that?”

“Well I got an early start.”

“Hey-”

At the call of Robby's voice, you straightened like you'd been caught doing something you shouldn't.

Frank laughed into his coffee mug.

It was embarrassing, really. How quick your body reacted to Robby and his call quicker than your mind could catch up. All he had to do was appear, say your name or catch your eye and you straightened, falling to his side and doing whatever he said. Somewhere along the way of working with him, he'd trained you.

“You're late,” he said, a small tug in the space between his brows. “Not like you, is everything okay?” Robby slipped in and Frank slipped out, pulling a face behind Robby, puckering lips directed at you.

“Sorry, sorry. My car's in the garage and the uber cancelled and I didn't really sleep much last night, it- it won't happen again.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Interesting night?”

You chuckled to yourself. “You could say that.”

Robby squinted at you before his eyes caught onto the pile of your stuff that wasn't there the last time he came in for a coffee. “Moving in?” he asked.

You laughed, a little more genuine then you had at Frank. “My apartment's flooded, they're just here till I can get a hotel.”

There was something heavy in the rise of his brows, in the way his expression morphed and his eyes widened only a little.

You tried to ignore it, because it almost looked like genuine concern. Not just for his resident that everyone claimed he had a soft spot for, but for the person behind the medical training. “They'll be moved by the end of the day.”

“You get any sleep last night?” he asked.

“Do I look that bad?” you asked with a pitiful huff.

“No,” Robby said at once. “Did you?”

“Couple hours. Those that were lucky enough not to wake up on the Titanic had a few sofas available.” You'd slept on Mrs Issac's sofa for three hours before you woke to her cat curled on your chest and your phone alarm blaring. It had felt as if your head had only just touched down, your dreams had only just started to form in mindless and faceless shapes before you were being brought back out of it.

Robby looked around at the staff room that was empty besides the two of you, peeking out the jutted open door. “We're pretty slow out there. South nineteen's empty.”

You nodded. “I'll look who's in chairs, get someone in-”

“Get some rest,” he said.

At some point Robby had come close to you, leaning his arm on the counter to support his weight. The tattoo hidden behind his watch peeking out at you. He stared down, studying you.

“I'm-I'm fine,” you said, un-sure what to do under his care.

Robby shook his head, lips tugged up slightly. “Fine isn't good enough for my best resident.”

Best resident. Somewhere along the way of working with him that title had been given to you; knelt on the ground, a sword going from shoulder to shoulder and there you had your title. Whenever he could, Robby slipped it into conversation with you, saying it more than your actual name.

“Thirty minutes,” he said.

Arguing with Robby was like arguing with a brick wall.

You sighed, imagining the scratchy blankets and hard bed but your body slumping at the idea of rest. “Thirty minutes. And get me if there's a trauma.”

“Which one of us is attending?” he asked, amused at the fight you tried to pull.

“You don't have best in front of your title though, do you?”

“I don't know, you tell me?”

“Hmm, only on Tuesday's.”

“Oh, Tuesday's are special days, huh?”

Tuesdays were special days because every Tuesday the two of you worked together. You don't know how you realised it, and maybe Robby didn't even know but every single Tuesday since you'd began the two of you had always been on shift together. Days off, weekends missed, long weekends and holidays but every Tuesday without a doubt, you and Robby were there.

Robby led you out, a phantom touch of his hand ballad up in the back of your scrub shirt before it was gone again.

“You'll wake me up?” you asked again.

He nodded his head once more. “I will wake you up.”

“And if somebody needs the bed?”

“I will personally throw you over my shoulder and put you somewhere else.”

You were suddenly glad your back was to him, so he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks at the very idea of being thrown over his shoulder. In your delirious state you picture the situation you'd have to be in to be thrown over his shoulder, the behaviour it would take to have him moving you around, hauling you about-

Thirty minutes of rest you could do.

“Hope you know what you're doing.”

Robby flinched at the accent and heavy smell of nicotine mixed with mint. He didn't even satisfy Dana by glancing back at her. “What?”

She chuckled. “Nothing. I guess.”

He shook his head and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, checking the hotels around the area. There seemed to be three types: expensive, high-end and pristine. Dirty, still not that cheap or booked up. How long would you need the room for? Was your landlord or anyone going to help you out for it? He didn't know your situation exactly but he knew what it was like to be a third year resident and stuck with bills.

Dana leant on the counter next to him, smirking.

“I'm just trying to help,” he excused.

“Yeah, sure.”

He peered at her over the black rim of his glasses. “Something else to say, Evans?”

Her head titled. “Don't you have a spare room at yours?”

Yes, he did. It was plain walled and not at all decorated besides a map of Pittsburgh train lines framed and not hung up. Some old Christmas gift from Jack that he couldn't get rid of in fear of offending him. The bed was comfy because it very rarely got slept on, aside from Jack or Jake on occasion. Truth was Robby couldn't remember the last time he had a guest over.

“Cheaper than a hotel,” she added. “Unless your up-tight.”

Suddenly he was thinking about it. You, in his place. You'd been around maybe once before, he re-called, un-able to re-count the circumstances that had you around.

“You'd be doing the girl I favour, I bet,” she continued.

Robby looked at the screen then back to her. “Has she... said something?”

“Not to me, but hey, she's been asleep the last hour. What do I know?”

Robby looked back down to the time at the computer, the numbers flickering by. He knew it had been longer than his half-an-hour. Really, he had no interest in waking you from your sleep unless he really, really had to. And if he had time to sit and scroll through hotels, you had time to sleep.

He let out a breath. “Apparently everything.”

She laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me. But if you can't put her up think I heard Santos offering up a sofa.”

Robby looked around the space, trying to find Santos or Whitaker to confirm. He didn't see either of them.

It was decided in his head then that he'd have to ask you to take up his guest room. He'd act it was all under the pretence of making sure you were well-rested, had a decent bed and your own space to sleep in, assuring you could get the rest and come in bright eyed and bushy tailed. Deep down he'd know, just to himself, it was because there was a seething bite of envy at the idea of Santos having you waking in her apartment, going home with you at the end of the day.

He dragged his hands down his face as Princess called out his name, demanding his attention.

What was a couple days, anyway.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

You looked up from your tablet, handing it over to Jesse as you stepped away from exam room six.

Robby stepped in Jesse's place, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders lifted high.

“Two hours,” you said. “I was asleep for two hours.”

“Sweet dreams?” he asked.

Yes. There had been dreams and rest. The blanket hadn't felt so scratchy and as tired as you were the noises of the Pitt were muffled in your mind. By the time you woke up your body felt lighter, you could practically feel the bags under your eyes retreat. Then you stepped out and there were new sets of patients, a different lighting in the place and the hour hand had moved all away around the clock.

“I dreamt there was a long que of patients waiting for the room,” you said. “A line like at Disney, except without the pay off.”

“They fast tracked to another,” he excused. “Can I talk to you now?”

He seemed restless, fists balling up in his fleece pockets and glasses tucked away in the front. His hair was tussled slightly, as if he'd already done a full day of work while you'd slept.

You waited for him to go on, watching his mouth open and close before he shook his head at himself, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I did some research,” he said, dragging out his words, in the way he did when he was nervous. You'd seen it when he was trying to let down every one of his flings, scared it was gonna end up loud in the middle of his ER. “Hotels in the area are expensive, I have a spare room, got a bed, it's big, my place is spacious and I'm hardly ever there. No garden but there's a balcony-”

Robby listed aspects of his apartment like he was putting it up for sale.

It took some time for you to realise what he was saying. A spare room, yours, he was offering. You caught the fact he'd looked up hotel rooms and suddenly you were imagining him, phone pulled out with the glow reflecting on his readers. Was he frowning at the prices? Was he rubbing at his beard in frustration, thinking which you'd prefer.

Was he hoping to find you a room so he didn't feel obliged to give up his own?

“That's- that's very kind of you, Robby,” you said softly, letting yourself down gently. “I- I can't do that.”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Take your room.”

“It's not my room, it's a spare.”

You blushed, thinking that he thought you were thinking about staying in his room. “No! No, I-I get that, I just- I can't put you out like that.”

Robby rocked forward on his heels. “You wouldn't. Really.”

“I'm sure I could find somewhere cheap-”

“- you can't-”

“- or I can check around with friends-”

“- Santos only has a sofa,” he said, raising his brows.

“I-I have other friends.”

Robby pressed his lips into a thin line. “Like me?”

He was insistent. Had someone put him up to it? Had he seen how tired you were and felt bad?

Every morning you woke and before walking into work you took a shovel to the feelings you held for Robby and buried them deep, deep down, plunging a sign that read remain professional into the ditch of your own creation. You called him boss and cap, reminding yourself that's what he was. Of course a friend was another title too, but calling him friend and invading his space wasn't going to do much for your feelings. Or your nerves. And you liked to think you'd done a pretty good job in keeping both in check.

Robby rocked on his feet again, almost jittering. “I don't charge rent, you'd be saving some money.”

How many more excuses could you come up with? How long could you stand here going back and forth?

“How many bathrooms?” you asked.

“Just one.”

“You live in a quiet area?”

“Very.”

“You don't have a cat do you?”

He shook his head with a small smirk. “No. I had fish but lost them.”

You nodded, arms hugging yourself. Admitting yourself into his hands wasn't just a jump, more a leap. Denying yourself had been easier in work, when glimpses of Robby between procedures and patients was all you could gauge yourself on. In his space, you'd become full.

“Say yes and I'll put your stuff in my truck.”

Future regret bubbled up in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you said, earning a slump of relief from him. “But I'm paying rent while I stay.”

He shook his head. “I don't need it.”

“It'll make me feel better,” you said. “I have to do something.”

Robby looked past you, thinking for a moment. “You cook?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then. While you're staying with me-” he jutted his thumbs at himself, like he was proud. “You can cook dinner, if you want.”

It wasn't a terrible service. More often then not you'd seen Robby slump his way out the place, mentioning something about a restaurant he was stopping by to pick up food that might last him a couple days. It would be like taking care of him and wasn't that what he was doing here? Taking care of you?

In a friendly way, of course.

“I will cook dinner,” you agreed.

“Great.” Robby seemed to relax in front of your eyes: his hands came out of his pockets, his shoulders shrunk and the crinkles at his eyes showed in a smile. “Your stuff's in my truck already.”

“Presumptuous,” you said, calling after him as he backed off slowly.

He shrugged. “Hopeful.”

But what did he have to hope for?

“Hey,” said Santos breathless and approaching you, moving your gaze from the pull of Robby's back to her. “I've got our labs back on that guy in seven.”

“Oh- er, great, great.” The tablet takes up your attention, but your mind lingers on the crows feet at Robby's eyes, the smile you saw briefly when you agreed to go home with him.

But Trinity Santos never missed a beat. “What was that about?” she asked in an uplifting teasing voice you were all too familiar with as she looked back at where Robby had disappeared to.

“What- what was what?”

“You and Robby, huh?”

“No. No me and Robby, don't make it weird.”

She smirked. “You're doing that all on your own.”

You carried yourself over to the nurses station, clocking Robby lingering in a corner, talking something over with Samira, so instead you distracted yourself with the tablet and charting. “He just offered me a place to stay.”

Santos's brows rose up high. “His place?”

You blushed under her analyses.

“Oh my god-”

“Don't- don't make it a thing-”

“It's already a thing,” she scoffed, leaning over and swatting at you. “You're staying at Robby's!”

“In his spare room, separate living completely.”

Santos leant back on the counter, looking around dreamily. “Suuurree, until you need the bathroom and just so happen to walk in on him, towel around his waist-”

“- Santos-”

“- it's all hot and steamy from his shower,” she continued. “And you just so happen to slip, right into his arms and- oh my- the towel falls.”

“You have too much time on your hands,” you said. “Go get Garcia for a surgical consult on twelve.”

Sulking, she did so, dragging her feet across the place while you were left to debate if the dent in your bank account was worth it to spare the dent in your heart.

A life with Robby was framed in different ways.

When you first stepped through his place, your case tugged in his hand and your bag slung over his shoulder along with his own, there was a thick layer of tension blanketing over everything, mystifying the tour he gave you. It didn't give in the morning when you both woke groggy from alarms, reaching for coffee. Through the day the tension sat between the two of you through patients and traumas.

It started to feel like a terrible idea.

Until you both went back to his that night and laughed about the couple that had super-glued themselves together, the teenage boy who got his head stuck in between balcony bars. You made mac & cheese, which Robby deemed the best he ever had but considering you only found kraft cheese boxes in his cupboards, you didn't think much of it.

Then the routine built, mugs of coffee in the morning, a hearty breakfast started by whoever was up earlier in the morning, taking turns in the bathroom with only the occasional awkward bump in to each other in between brushings of teeth.

It was one morning when he stepped out, a smudge of minty white toothpaste in the corner of his mouth.

“You've got a bit of-” you'd told him, gesturing to the corner of his mouth by your own.

He rubbed and missed it completely and your hand reached out first. It was like you were watching it outside of your own body, as your thumb swiped away at the corner of his mouth, scratching at his beard.

Every morning since then Robby had walked out with that same bit of smudged toothpaste and every time you spotted it, you got rid of it for him.

Feeling the heat of his breath dance along your fingertips.

The peppermint smell of him clinging like second skin.

The wet fall of his hair, droplets dripping down to your feet.

It made every morning harder, but made every one more the while.

In work, you had your own new routine between the two of you.

In the mornings everyone in the Pitt- including those that stuck around from night long enough- lingered to watch as you and Robby walked in side by side, heading straight for the fridge in the lounge.

There, Robby would pull out two containers of leftovers from the night before while talking about.... well, sometimes nobody could really tell what it was.

“- all I'm saying is that if it was real life they'd be shut down instantly,” Shen caught Robby telling you, shamelessly lingering in the door way with Abbot and Javadi.

“It's not real life, it's Disney.”

“It's a restaurant ran by a rat!”

“It's whimsy.”

Robby grumbled under his breath. “It's un-realistic.”

You laughed and as busy as you were laughing you didn't see the look Robby gave you, a smile of his own. A soft one, because when he was looking at you, nothing had to be loud. “Just wait till you watch Cinderella, the rats sew a dress!”

Abbot was first to clear his throat. “Good morning, happy couple.”

And Robby's expression dropped, passing a glare to his friend.

As distracted as he was with the glare, he didn't see the way your face fell. The disappointment that marred your features.

“Got anything fun for me?” asked Robby, clapping his hands and getting to business, taking the night shift attendings by the shoulders and dragging them out.

Javadi entered in, a sheepish smirk on her lips. “So, how's it going?” she asked with all the air of a girl needing gossip.

“It's fine,” you said.

It had been three weeks of living inside of his apartment, of his space becoming yours, of shows he'd never think about watching slowly enrapturing him.

“Just fine?” she asked. “Isn't this supposed to be the part where the two of you get together?”

It was a few beers kind of mistake to tell Javadi on your feelings for Robby. But she was a med-student harbouring hard feelings for Matteo and you'd been desperate to bond and suddenly it turned into Javadi shooting you looks across the floor whenever Robby got too close, and he was doing that a lot recently.

“No, no, that's crossing so many lines,” you excused.

“Yeah but, he invited you to stay.”

“As a friendly gesture.”

“And how friendly do we know Robby to be?”

With you, very. With others it was more a tough game to play to get Robby to show some sympathy.

Your mouth was left ajar, stuttering on words you couldn't even come up with when Princess drummed her knuckles on the door.

“Louie's in south nineteen, asking for you.”

Never had you been so thankful to be called away on a patient run, especially when it was one of your terribly concealed favourites.

But you didn't leave quick enough to not catch how Princess crowded in Victoria, asking her what the latest was.

You managed to skirt your way over to nineteen without any more fans asking you about your new living situations. You were more than happy to hide away with Louie.

“Hey, doc!” he grinned as you let the door shut behind you.

“Louie, it's been weeks, what took you so long?” you joked, taking the stool and wheeling over to him with a smile. Really, you'd been worried when he hadn't come in- counting two months down since his last visit. It didn't give you hope that he was doing better, it filled you with dread he'd given up entirely.

He chuckled. “Sorry, doc, been busy.”

“A good busy?”

“Always.”

It was one of those slow nights when Louie came in when you and Robby were working- a Tuesday night where you were just about to go home when you checked in on Louie one more time, finding him half way through a devastating story on his life.

You'd cried in the bathroom and Robby had silently handed you a tissue when you stepped out, cold water splashed in your face.

“Hold out your hand for me, Louie,” you said, watching him do so with a tremble you could have bet your money on. “Shaky, huh?”

“Well it is eight a.m,” he grinned.

“We'll start you with fifty of Librium, as always. Anything else bothering you, Louie?”

“I had some aching in my side, right there-” diligently he showed you the pain, wincing as he pressed down on the pain.

You tugged on gloves and did an exam, finding the are bruised.

“You been in any trouble recently?” you asked, knowing that if Louie ever was in a fight, it would never be started by him. He was happy to drink silently.

“Not that I remember, maybe with a stool,” he joked.

You smiled with him, testing out spots of his chest and asking him to breathe in, listening down the stethoscope. “Everything seems fine but we'll get an ultrasound in to check you over.”

He waved you off. “Don't rush, doc, I like to watch the people go by sometimes.”

You entertained him. “Course, I'll be back shortly.”

You got Perlah on the case, someone just as happy to see Louie as you were, the duo that took the best care of him. Then you were occupied with slowly ticking off the board, discharging simple cases, working harder on the demanding ones.

At some point in the morning Robby slid in next to you, taking his place casually.

“I think I win for most interesting case today,” he said.

Happily, you looked up from your charts. “I didn't realise it was a competition?”

“Competition keeps you young,” he said, head nodding side to side.

“I'm not the one that needs to be kept young,” you teased.

There was smirk of shock that gave way to darkening eyes and a straighter back when he pulled himself up.

“You wanna play that?”

“I'm playing that,” you said. “I'm surprised you don't have an old mans seat when you shower.”

“I didn't realise you thought about me showering.”

It took you so off guard your elbow slipped, taking down someone's abandoned coffee.

“Shit!” You cursed, clamouring to the shards and spilt liquid.

Robby was still chuckling to himself when he knelt next to you, collecting the bits of mug in his hands, taking what you had in yours to his also.

“I- I don't think about you showering,” you said, quietly. “Of course I don't, I just- I just meant- a joke. It was a joke.”

Robby inhaled, tilting his head to get a look at you. “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, god, I-I didn't-”

Your name was cried out and the shards of China fell back to the ground as Perlah helplessly stood outside of Louie's room. Almost slipping on the coffee, you took off in a run, Robby hot on your heels as you burst through the doors.

“He just- he just started-” Perlah panicked among the blood.

He lay still, un-responsive and you didn't miss a beat in jumping up, pumping down on his chest with gloves, without a gown, just the need to save a life that had been drilled into you.

His blood got on your hands, under your nails as with every pump down on his chest, you pumped more blood out.

“Get an intubation tray, crash cart and suction, now!” Robby called as a flood of nurses assembled around you. He was intubated and a bag put in place, a nurse came in for suction and the heavy rolling wheels of the crash cart sounded.

It fell upon you muffled as your arms shook while pressing down on his chest.

“We can swap out,” Robby offered quietly from behind you.

“No, no, I- I got this,” you said through the gasps and slow bead of sweat beginning down your temple. “C'mon Louie, c'mon-”

Perlah stretched over, slamming down pads on his chest, under the gown that practically had his name on it from how often he visited. “Pads in place!”

“Hold compressions!” said Robby.

You backed up enough to get a reading, getting a dull feeling of Robby's hands on your arms as you trembled. “Still V-Fib,” you said, climbing off the bed. “Charge to two hundred!”

“Charged!”

“Clear!”

So it went on, maybe only for minutes, maybe for an hour. A continuous rhythm of your chest compressions, the push of epi, the constant let down of no pulse, the flow of blood. And Robby's eyes only fumble from you to check on Louie before returning to you.

Everyone in the room hung on the thread of the flatline.

“Do we push more epi?” asked Perlah.

There was a silence behind you but you could picture the slow shake of Robby's head. You'd seen it in dozens of patients, in several helpless cases.

“Robby?” you called out helplessly, without knowing what you were calling for.

He was slow in his approach to you but you could feel him closer, know he was reaching out. “We've done everything we can.” It wasn't harsh. It wasn't kind. It was fact and sometimes fact was neither thing.

His hand was gentle on your shoulder, not squeezing or pulling. Just there. It was enough for you to feel everything deep down in your bones, the pressure of trying to bring him back to life making you weak and Robby's touch helping you give up.

You didn't recall the calling of his time of death, or the stumbling out the room, the wiping down of his blood on your scrubs. You didn't know anything until you made it out to the ambulance bay, drinking in gulps of fresh air that seemed to poison you more then help.

It clamped down on your chest and choaked at your throat-

“Hey, hey- it's okay, you're okay-”

Arms were tugging at you, pulling you into a chest you'd grown knwon with.

You pushed back. “No, no, I'm bloody, I- I can't-”

“Shh-” Robby cooed.

He embraced you tightly, suffocating you into his chest like he was trying to tell the rest of the world to go away, to shield you from the hospital and ambulances would inevitably come by. Robby stood there, arms strong and protecting you. He rocked slightly, lips pressed to the top of your head like it was a natural thing to do. Like you'd never felt them there or anywhere else before.

“I'm sorry,” you sniffed into his chest.

“No, don't be- shh,” he whispered into you. “You did everything you could.”

“He's gone, he's gone,” you mumbled.

Robby held you until he felt he could let you go, which proved a while. By the time you'd dragged yourself back in, red faced and teary eyed word had spread about Louie. Robby remained behind you, a hand curling against the lower parts of your back as he guided you through to the scrub bin, daring anyone to stop and ask you what happened.

He was a dog ready to bite.

“Take some time,” he said in the same air he'd used to ask you to stay with him. With no room for arguments.

You changed scrubs, met Perlah in the middle of the nurses hub for support. When Louie's body was took to the viewing room, Robby stayed stuck at your side, fingers brushing yours as he let everyone who wanted to say goodbye, say it.

By your side he stayed for the rest of the day, with biting breaths and lingering looks. His touches became every other moment, every spare second he knelt next to you, checking in.

“I'm fine,” you told him repeatedly as the day went on, as new patient names clouded your mind and traumas stole your attention.

“We'll get out of here, tonight,” he promised, hand edging closer to yours. Closer to something he wouldn't be able to take back. “No cooking tonight, we'll pick something up.”

“I can- I can cook-”

Robby shook his head. “And you can pick the movie.”

You smiled, though it was tainted from the pain. “Even if it has talking animals?”

His eyes rolled playfully as he sighed, pushing himself up. “If you must.” His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he squeezed, moving by.

When you looked back up you weren't surprised to see the fleeing eyes of Dana over her glasses.

She knew you'd caught her but only turned and walked off. You didn't know how you knew she was still smiling, but you knew.

By the time you and Robby got home- back to his- the sky had darkened and the Thai was procured on the drive back.

He'd let you shower first, knowing you still felt the need to scrub the phantoms of the day from you. You'd been so desperate you'd left your own wash bag in your room, your own robe there. So you bathed in Robby's signature smell, washed your hair in his shampoo that wasn't a two in one.

You wrapped yourself in a towel that was fluffy and smelt like him, wiping down condensation from the window before letting yourself sit with the grief.

It was never a good idea, alone in your own apartment to let the day haunt you. In Robby's place, surrounded by a smell that was all his, you safely let yourself remember the wobble in your arms, the pain in your heart and ache in your body.

You stood, re-tucking the towel around you when the door burst open at once.

“Shit- shit-”

You grasped at the towel as it slipped down your body, clutching it to your chest before it could expose everything.

Robby stood, frozen in the doorway, his lips parted slowly. “Shit- sorry, I thought you were done.”

“I'm- I'm finishing up,” you gulped.

Robby nodded, hand clenched on the door.

You watched his eyes catch a glance past your shoulder, seeing something there that had a blush creeping up his neck and ears. Something that made him bashful and looking away.

A chill ran down your body, from the toll of the day, the lack of clothing around you or the look Robby gave you.

“I'll, er- just...” you trailed off.

Robby closed his eyes, breathing deep. “Yeah. Yeah.”

The door inched closed slower. Before it shut completely you were sure Robby paused, sure you heard him inhale and sigh before you caught the retreat of his footsteps.

You body sunk in on itself, catching the electricity buried under your skin by just being looked at by him. At the idea that he could smell him on you.

It wasn't until you turned, catching a glimpse of yourself in the wiped down mirror that you realised.

Wiped down.

When Robby glanced behind you- to the mirror- he'd blushed at the sight of that part of you left bare. The slope of your back, the dimples that sat just above your ass and the curve of you.

He'd got a glimpse of it. Not just a glimpse by the way he paused- an eyeful.

“Fuck.”

It was bound to happen, maybe, with how long the two of you had been in co-habitation. But the day had been messy enough. Navigating the corners of yours and Robby's changed relationship.... you didn't have the nerve, though it felt alight by his look.

Maybe he hadn't seen anything, you told yourself as you dressed.

He probably didn't even notice, you said as you threw your damp hair up.

Just don't bring it up and he probably won't, you repeated as you stepped out.

When you came back out Robby was hiding in the kitchen, tucking himself right into the counter as he set up several dishes of all the food you'd ordered. His head was tucked low but there was a new sheen of sweat at the expanse of his neck still poking out from his scrubs.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologised, slipping into a stool across from him.

He shook his head and shrugged without looking at you.

“Smells good!” you said, reaching for the food that lay between you.

Muscles in Robby's jaw moved. Tightening.

You watched his tongue run over the bottom of his lip before he stepped back from the counter, a finger running over his lips as he excused himself quickly.

It was just a glimpse you thought you caught, something tightening in his scrub pants exenterated by his hands trying to be discreet in covering it (and failing).

Only when you went back to the bathroom an hour later, to brush your teeth did you notice the very, very cold setting of the shower. But if he didn't bring it up, neither would you.

Robby was only supposed to be passing. It had been ten minutes since he last caught a glimpse of you and he decided that was nine minutes too long.

He couldn't pinpoint when exactly the obsession started, if he wanted to call it that. It could have been when your things started to pile up at his, your favourite mug that you drank from sitting comfortably next to his every morning, or the cook books you went back to like it was your bible. It might've been before you'd even effectively moved in with him. Maybe when he saw the way you commanded a room around a trauma, never once doubting yourself.

Whenever it began it only increased with every good morning he got, every night and gentle touch he felt.

And finding you in that bathroom, a blink and miss it moment when your towel started to fall. The expanse of everything behind you that you were so un-aware of.

Robby felt dirty for the erection he supported most the night, even after the coldest shower of his life and taking care of it in his bed when you were sure you were asleep.

It had taken every bit of taught and measure self-restraint to keep his hands off you. You'd had a tough day, Robby throwing himself at your mercy wasn't going to help.

But it had been a week since then, a week of near misses and close calls in the bathroom the two of you were treating like a battleground. The splotches of toothpaste he let linger on him got further and further along his mouth, the playing clueless became more silly. The brushed past each other in the kitchen when there was plenty of room became more telling.

It was all supposed to be going somewhere.

“ - while she is playing house with her boss,” he caught Santos saying, hers, yours and Javadi's backs to him as he slowed his approach.

“It's messy,” said Victoria.

“Oh, would you- the two of you stop,” you said. “It's not like that.”

“No?” asked Javadi.

“It's not like what?” he heard the teasing uplift of Trinity's voice.

“Like what you're trying to say,” you argued. “Robby and I are friends, just friends.”

Santos nodded, head lowering. “Sure. Friends. Friends with house mate benefits.”

“What are house mate benefits?” asked Javadi, looking over to you enough that Robby could catch a grin.

“Oh, use your imagination,” said Santos. “One bathroom, two people, trips to get water from the kitchen, in nothing but skimpy little-”

Robby could practically see the face you were pulling.

“Oh, can we not talk about this?” you said. “Nothing like that has happened, nothing like that will happen. We're friends, just friends.”

Robby didn't realise how badly he must have wanted it to be more until he heard you dismiss it out of hand. Until he heard the mocking chuckle of his doctors at what you were saying. That nothing was ever going to happen, essentially admitting you didn't think about the escapade in the bathroom as much as he did.

Why would you? You probably thought it was odd and gross how he lingered. How he acted the rest of the night- withdrawn and ashamed- probably didn't help.

What? Did he think that after spending more time with him, living with him, you'd grow to care in a way he had for you. In a way he'd tried to ignore for months?

Did he really think he stood a fucking chance?

He was hyper aware of himself, standing there like an idiot with the fading mark of his heart on his sleeve. Soon somebody would call his name, his game would be up and the three of you would turn to him, catching him there.

Robby cleared his throat and shouldered between you and Victoria, practically tossing the tablet down. “Guy in five needs a surgical consult on a blood clot.”

Santos held up her hands to be clear of it and Javadi was walking away at once.

Robby watched you take it and he left.

It was time to start re-building his heart.

“Hey,” you said, quick to follow him. “I was thinking of trying a carbonara tonight, do you like it?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Cool. You know if we have parmigiana?”

“I have more pressing things to think about then what's in my fridge,” he said.

You were quiet for a moment and he hoped he'd scared you away. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? Has something happened?”

“No,” he huffed, halting at the door to trauma two where a car crash victim was under the scope of three capable doctors. What was one more? “Now instead of pestering me can you go do you're fucking job?”

The flash of hurt in your eyes was almost enough to have him apologising. To have him cave and tell you he didn't want to just be friends, that he couldn't go a day without feeling you and being calmed instantly.

Almost.

Your lips pursed and you held the tablet up to your chest like it was a shield. “I will get right on that, boss.”

The tension that began at his house when you first joined him in the space of his walls falls returned, un-invited, with a vengeance.

After Robby's snap at you you figured it was a bad day, that things had piled up and him and he didn't want to talk about it. He still waited for you at the end of his shift, still drove you home but in a silence that was stale. He went to the bathroom first and you started on dinner, making two plates of the pasta you'd promised.

He never left his room that night and his dinner was still sitting on the counter in the morning.

It continued for three days. No blushing meetings outside of the bathroom, no movie's he'd fall asleep to and miss the end- though insisting he was only resting his eyes- it all stopped, quickly.

So quick you had no time to think of what had gone wrong.

“Hey,” said Victoria, lingering next to you as you went back to your search for cheap hotels that didn't have complaints of bug bites.

“Hey.”

“Your leftovers smell so good.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn't even pack lunch today,” she added, a small smile bitten back.

You huffed a laugh. “You can take Robby's, I don't think he's hungry.”

“Really?” she said. “He's usually very punctual about your lunches.”

He was, until a few days ago when you'd tried to find him to see if he was hungry, so you could sit down to your leftover together as you had done. But he'd brushed by you, telling you he wasn't hungry. He did so every day you asked.

“Has something happened?” asked Victoria.

Yes, something had clearly happened but you didn't know what.

“No, just.... Robby being Robby I guess.” You shrugged it off but the indifference hurt because it wasn't just Robby being Robby. You'd found a different Robby, the one that wasn't snapping and grumpy every day, the one who coaxed you to your room when you were too tired to move from the sofa, the one who let you hum along to the songs in the movies you'd pick, the Robby that made you coffee just the way you like. You'd never even had to tell him.

“Oh. I'm sorry,” she said. “You know if I didn't live with my parents I'd let you stay, of course.”

You smiled. “I know. Thanks.”

The hotel you settled on wasn't in the top ten in the city and it was nearly forty minutes out of your way. Earlier mornings were a small price to pay.

You let Robby drive you home without conversation, let him tirelessly switch from one radio to the other. Your fingers curled and un-curled against your knees in anxiety.

“My-urm- apartment is up and running again,” you said.

Robby's knuckles bleached white on the steering wheel. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I can get my stuff packed up and be out your hair.”

Robby didn't say anything. You glanced at him, seeing the tightness of his body and the eyes he kept plastered on the road. “It's late,” he said, mouth moving to say something else before he closed it again and thought. “I can give you a lift over.”

“You- you don't have to,” you said. The idea of one more tense car ride was enough to have you thinking about jumping out the moving vehicle. “I can book an uber.”

“It's late.”

Robby kept himself busy while you packed up the clothes you'd un-packed in the wardrobe in his room. He packed up your toiletries and your kitchen things that had slowly wound themselves in his cupboards.

You were already at the door, your case and bag standing next to you, your phone warming in your hand as you checked your hotel booking and uber confirmation.

Robby walked out from the bathroom, your toiletery bag in hand.

“I've got an uber booked,” you told him, quickly. “It's been a long day, I didn't want you to have to drive anymore.”

He nodded, slowly, handing you the bag. “Okay.” His hands retreated back to his pockets.

You loitered. You still had ten minutes before your uber on the way. “I'm sorry if I out-stayed my welcome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “However long it took to get your place fixed.”

“Still, I didn't mean for it to take this long.”

Robby didn't reply and his gaze faded away from you.

It was a heavy goodbye. The longer you'd stayed with him the little time you gave to thinking how leaving would work. You wouldn't be escaping him, no, he'd be stuck in your mind and lingering in the corner of your gaze. You'd still remember how he looked when he was falling asleep, how his shower smelt and the way he stretched in the morning.

They'd all be happy memories of another time.

You took it with you like extra baggage into the uber and into the two star hotel.

Robby knew he was ingraining himself into the night shift longer than he needed to but since you left a week ago his apartment was cold, empty and he loathed it.

He hated that there was no other noise, no other mug sitting next to his, nobody to talk to. Hated it so much he was choosing the taunting walls of the Pitt over heading back.

“You thinking of joining the night crawlers?” Jack asked, finding Robby stretching at the hub of the Pitt.

“Nope.”

“Oh. It's just, you're still here, so I assumed,” Jack teased.

“I get it,” said Robby in a sing-song voice.

“It can't be that bad, can it?” asked Abbot. “You see her tomorrow.”

Robby wished he could say he didn't know what Jack was talking about but it was painfully obvious to everyone that he couldn't deny it himself. There was no more coming in together, in fact, you'd been coming in late but he was doing his best to avoid you he couldn't talk to you to find out why. He no longer had a tub of well-cooked food or your teasing invitation to eat with you.

It felt like he had nothing all over again.

He looked down to the nurses counter, picking at a mark on there. “It's just...” he trailed, trying to think of a word to sum it all up.

“Yeah?” asked Jack, leaning next to him.

“Quiet.” He decided on.

Jack nodded, slowly. He glanced away before frowning at whatever he'd found. “What happened anyway? The pipes at her place were fixed so you just kicked her out?”

“No, she wanted to leave.”

“So you guys can't just, hang out?” he asked, holding his hands behind his back.

Robby made a pfft noise. “Hang out?”

“Well, Dana says-”

“- Dana-” he scoffed.

“Dana says the two of you can hardly look at each other,” said Jack. “Seems to be a change from what I'd heard before.”

Robby looked at him. “And what did you hear before?”

“You laugh,” he said, like it was a rare phenomenon. “Heard you joke. Saw you smile. Saw you happy.”

He thought about you, grinning with Santos and Javadi as you told them you were just friends, that nothing had happened and nothing was going to happen. He remembered how you looked at him first thing in the mornings and last thing at night, how you were- and still- were on his mind as he laid his head down and pushed himself up in the morning.

“She... she made it clear that nothing was going to happen between us,” Robby admitted.

“And you wanted more?”

Robby was still, the flecks of the stain coming off under his nail.

“Want more?” Jack corrected.

He nodded.

“And did you tell her that?”

It was rather annoying, sometimes, how well Jack knew him.

“I didn't have to.”

“I think you did. You still do,” said Jack. “Just talk to her man, tell her how you feel-”

Robby shook his head at once. “- no-”

“Robby. Brother,” said Jack with a firm pat on his back. “I've seen how you look at her. I've seen how she looks at you. Take it from me, it would be a waste to let that go.”

He didn't want to let it go, but Robby didn't know how to hold on either.

“Hey, big bosses!” Lena called. “Got major trauma's coming, hotel caught fire. We're the closest hospital, Westbridge can only take two traumas and ten minors.”

“Send them our way, I'll round up the crawlers!” said Jack already sliding into his professionalism.

“I'll hang around then,” said Robby, almost spitefully proving a point to Jack. That he didn't need to go home.

“I'm giving you an hour.”

An hour was all he needed.

A flood of people, most in their sleep wear, robes hastily thrown and tied up flooded in. Many were covered in ash, faces grey or pale. They were checked over for smoke inhalation, nobody got through without a stethoscope to their chest and back. There was a family of four who's father was being treated for bad burns. An elderly man with cancer that was put up to south eighteen, chefs from the small hotel kitchen that were being seen for burns, damage to their lungs and everything else.

“I told you! I told you!” one of them shouted, accent foreign to Robby. “That place is a death trap! It was just waiting to go up in flames!”

Robby stepped out and decided to let them argue, tugging of gloves and fetching another pair from the always stocked box on the wall. “Is that everyone?”

“Just one more, pulling up now!” said Lena, yelling over the chaos the ED had turned into to.

Just one more. That heavy set of exhaustion was starting to settle in his feet, making them ache. It was nearing one in the morning, in five hours time he'd need to be up and heading in.

He thought it was the need for sleep that had him hearing your voice.

“Mark Tellon, on his seventies, severe smoke inhalation and asthma attack. No signed nasal hair, his pulse ox is at eighty-four wet crackles bilaterally!”

There was no such thing as dreaming.

Robby stumbled at the sight of you in bottoms that were too long for you, in a cartoon character he couldn't name, in a shirt that drowned you. He guessed it was once white but was stained in ash and smoke, as was your face and hair.

You wheeled in the man with the paramedics and Robby stepped just ahead.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“Hotel caught fire, quick evacuation, this is everyone,” you listed, clinically.

“You were there?”

You glanced up at him as the bed of the old man was wheeled by the two of you. He watched your face fall, smudging ash as you wiped at your forehead. “Er-”

Robby didn't care for the answer. Well, he did but not when your eyes were hazy, skin clammy and smoke and ash covered you. His hands climbed at your cheeks, holding you there and looking into your eyes. “Have you been checked over?”

“Urm, no I'm fine-”

“C'mon-”

“What? Robby!” you protested even as his fingers wrapped around your forearms, dragging you across the floor and past patients waiting for consults and doctors and nurses clearly rushed off their feet.

There was no spare room available but the family room so Robby took you there, where it was empty, and closed the door behind him.

You were stuck, again, alone with Robby. Exactly the place you'd tried not to be. But he'd closed the door behind him, zoned in on you with that tight crease of worry between his brows.

You stood there, holding onto yourself.

Robby made you follow his finger with your eyes, his other hand steadying your cheek as he watched you. “Any dizziness?”

“No, I'm fine.”

He took his penlight out from his pocket of tricks next, shining the light and checking your pupil response, you knew how it all worked and let him go through the motions. “You inhaled smoke?” he asked.

“Probably. I was trying to make sure everyone got out, first.”

There was a tut from his lips but a small upturn in his cheeks.

“Course you were,” he mumbled, ditching the pen light when he was done with it.

“Honestly, I'm fine, I'll just need a shower.”

Robby was already making his way behind you, warming up the drum of his stethoscope in the palm of his hand. Still, when you felt the brush of his rough fingertips skirting over the skin of your back and the metal pressing along, you shivered. “Breathe in.”

You took a deep breath in, Robby's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Breathe out.”

You did everything he said.

He moved so he was in front of you, sliding the stethoscope down the front of your shirt, closer over the drum of your heart.

Robby's eyes remained lower, not meeting your gaze. “Breathe in.”

Your chest expanded into his hand.

“Your heart's racing,” he observed.

You swallowed down the feeling of him so close. “Yeah. Probably. Been a crazy night.”

Gently his hands smoothed down your arms, sitting you down on the leather chairs as he set himself on the small coffee table in front of you.

“Want to tell me why you were at the hotel to begin with?” he asked, elbows rested on his knees and hands clasped together. “Cause I can come up with my own ideas and I don't like them.”

Lying to him had proved a silly task time and time again.

“My apartment isn't actually ready to be lived in yet,” you admitted, low in your throat and looking down to his hands. The only update you had from your apartment was that it would take another week, followed by a hopefully.

“No?” he said in fake disbelief.

You shook your head. “I just guessed I'd out stayed my welcome, you wanted to be alone.”

“No,” he said. “No, you didn't. You could've stayed.”

You eyed Robby. “You didn't really seem like you wanted me there anymore.”

You watched as he sighed, shoulders slumping.

Robby's fingers thread and un-thread. “It wasn't like that.”

“I mean did I- did I do something?” you asked, a spew of words ready at the barrel of your gun. “I thought we were okay.”

“So did I,” he said, bringing up his gaze and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “So did I.”

“Then what?”

Robby pushed himself up, hands flying to the back of his head and patting down his hair. His boots scuffed against the floor as he paced the area small and not built for pacing. “I thought things were going really well,” he admitted, hands making a weak gesture between the two of you. “I thought there were moments.”

“There were!” you opposed, quickly.

Was this a chance you'd been looking for? Was he wanting you to say there was something more? That the touches and everything else meant something.

He looked at you, arms pulling over his chest. “But we're just friends, right?”

There was a way he was saying it, a bite to his words like a dog barking, trying to make a point. Just friends.

With your head spinning you remembered another time of saying those words. You remembered Santos's teasing (really it was hard to pick one particular moment out from it all) and Javadi there too. You remembered their teasing grins, asking you about benefits-

And how Robby forced the tablet in between the three of you.

Your head hung, hands wiping away the stress. “Oh god.”

Robby waited.

“Oh god,” your voice came out muffled by your own hands. “Robby-”

“Yeah, I started to like you,” he said, trying to make it all seem like it was no big deal, body moving to shake it of. “I shouldn't, I know. I'm your boss, you're the resident, you were staying with me as a guest.”

“Robby, I-” you pushed yourself up, making your way around the table.

“- and you made it very clear to Doctor Santos and Doctor Javadi-”

“- they were teasing me, it was- it was nothing. I didn't mean it! I mean, they'd been teasing me for weeks, they were just annoying me.”

His body moved in his breath as looked at you. “You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not!”

“You lied about your place. Instead you chose a hotel, one that was a death trap, apparently.”

“I thought you hated me!”

“No, I want you!”

“And I want you!” you yelled.

“You didn't tell me.”

“Well, you didn't tell me.”

Robby scoffed. “Yeah, I'm the one who's supposed to have communication issues, sweetheart.”

Within seconds you had thrown yourself into Robby's arms, practically leaping atop him and kissing him. His lips were frozen, body waking up slowly as his arms curled around your back, holding you in. You could feel the scrunch of his noise and the scrape of his beard as he didn't kiss you back.

You pulled away, keeping your eyes down.

Just because he wanted you, because you wanted him didn't mean throwing yourself at him (literally!) was going to work.

“I-I'm sorry, I thought-”

His hands drowned your face as he pulled you back in, head dipping low to lick his tongue into you. He pressed his mouth into your, letting his tongue in your mouth. His hands tilted your head back, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he reacted to you at once.

Your hands tugged a hold of his hoodie, bending him further along you while his hands slowed down your body, cupping your backside and digging his fingers in.

Some noise made its way out the back of his throat, groaning into your mouth.

“Are we-” you said against his lips. “Mmp; are we doing this right now?”

“Doing what?” He mumbled, tilting his head to nudge your mouth open deeper.

You smiled against him. “Making out in the family room?”

“God, I hope so.”

His mouth was open, warm and welcoming as he kissed you harder, finding parts of you nobody had ever found before.

“I meant it,” said Robby against you, his tongue running over the tip of your lip. “I want you.”

You nudged your nose with his, arms coming to wrap around the back of his neck. “I mean it. I don’t- we’re not just friends, Robby.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, smirking. “I don’t think think friends kiss each other the way I’m about to kiss you.”

“I'm looking at hotels to stay in till they figure it all out,” you said.

“Your insurance going to cover that?” he asked.

You peered at him through the sleep you didn't get. “You're funny this morning, Ken, you know that?”

“Well I got an early start.”

“Hey-”

At the call of Robby's voice, you straightened like you'd been caught doing something you shouldn't.

Frank laughed into his coffee mug.

It was embarrassing, really. How quick your body reacted to Robby and his call quicker than your mind could catch up. All he had to do was appear, say your name or catch your eye and you straightened, falling to his side and doing whatever he said. Somewhere along the way of working with him, he'd trained you.

“You're late,” he said, a small tug in the space between his brows. “Not like you, is everything okay?” Robby slipped in and Frank slipped out, pulling a face behind Robby, puckering lips directed at you.

“Sorry, sorry. My car's in the garage and the uber cancelled and I didn't really sleep much last night, it- it won't happen again.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Interesting night?”

You chuckled to yourself. “You could say that.”

Robby squinted at you before his eyes caught onto the pile of your stuff that wasn't there the last time he came in for a coffee. “Moving in?” he asked.

You laughed, a little more genuine then you had at Frank. “My apartment's flooded, they're just here till I can get a hotel.”

There was something heavy in the rise of his brows, in the way his expression morphed and his eyes widened only a little.

You tried to ignore it, because it almost looked like genuine concern. Not just for his resident that everyone claimed he had a soft spot for, but for the person behind the medical training. “They'll be moved by the end of the day.”

“You get any sleep last night?” he asked.

“Do I look that bad?” you asked with a pitiful huff.

“No,” Robby said at once. “Did you?”

“Couple hours. Those that were lucky enough not to wake up on the Titanic had a few sofas available.” You'd slept on Mrs Issac's sofa for three hours before you woke to her cat curled on your chest and your phone alarm blaring. It had felt as if your head had only just touched down, your dreams had only just started to form in mindless and faceless shapes before you were being brought back out of it.

Robby looked around at the staff room that was empty besides the two of you, peeking out the jutted open door. “We're pretty slow out there. South nineteen's empty.”

You nodded. “I'll look who's in chairs, get someone in-”

“Get some rest,” he said.

At some point Robby had come close to you, leaning his arm on the counter to support his weight. The tattoo hidden behind his watch peeking out at you. He stared down, studying you.

“I'm-I'm fine,” you said, un-sure what to do under his care.

Robby shook his head, lips tugged up slightly. “Fine isn't good enough for my best resident.”

Best resident. Somewhere along the way of working with him that title had been given to you; knelt on the ground, a sword going from shoulder to shoulder and there you had your title. Whenever he could, Robby slipped it into conversation with you, saying it more than your actual name.

“Thirty minutes,” he said.

Arguing with Robby was like arguing with a brick wall.

You sighed, imagining the scratchy blankets and hard bed but your body slumping at the idea of rest. “Thirty minutes. And get me if there's a trauma.”

“Which one of us is attending?” he asked, amused at the fight you tried to pull.

“You don't have best in front of your title though, do you?”

“I don't know, you tell me?”

“Hmm, only on Tuesday's.”

“Oh, Tuesday's are special days, huh?”

Tuesdays were special days because every Tuesday the two of you worked together. You don't know how you realised it, and maybe Robby didn't even know but every single Tuesday since you'd began the two of you had always been on shift together. Days off, weekends missed, long weekends and holidays but every Tuesday without a doubt, you and Robby were there.

Robby led you out, a phantom touch of his hand ballad up in the back of your scrub shirt before it was gone again.

“You'll wake me up?” you asked again.

He nodded his head once more. “I will wake you up.”

“And if somebody needs the bed?”

“I will personally throw you over my shoulder and put you somewhere else.”

You were suddenly glad your back was to him, so he couldn't see the blush on your cheeks at the very idea of being thrown over his shoulder. In your delirious state you picture the situation you'd have to be in to be thrown over his shoulder, the behaviour it would take to have him moving you around, hauling you about-

Thirty minutes of rest you could do.

“Hope you know what you're doing.”

Robby flinched at the accent and heavy smell of nicotine mixed with mint. He didn't even satisfy Dana by glancing back at her. “What?”

She chuckled. “Nothing. I guess.”

He shook his head and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, checking the hotels around the area. There seemed to be three types: expensive, high-end and pristine. Dirty, still not that cheap or booked up. How long would you need the room for? Was your landlord or anyone going to help you out for it? He didn't know your situation exactly but he knew what it was like to be a third year resident and stuck with bills.

Dana leant on the counter next to him, smirking.

“I'm just trying to help,” he excused.

“Yeah, sure.”

He peered at her over the black rim of his glasses. “Something else to say, Evans?”

Her head titled. “Don't you have a spare room at yours?”

Yes, he did. It was plain walled and not at all decorated besides a map of Pittsburgh train lines framed and not hung up. Some old Christmas gift from Jack that he couldn't get rid of in fear of offending him. The bed was comfy because it very rarely got slept on, aside from Jack or Jake on occasion. Truth was Robby couldn't remember the last time he had a guest over.

“Cheaper than a hotel,” she added. “Unless your up-tight.”

Suddenly he was thinking about it. You, in his place. You'd been around maybe once before, he re-called, un-able to re-count the circumstances that had you around.

“You'd be doing the girl I favour, I bet,” she continued.

Robby looked at the screen then back to her. “Has she... said something?”

“Not to me, but hey, she's been asleep the last hour. What do I know?”

Robby looked back down to the time at the computer, the numbers flickering by. He knew it had been longer than his half-an-hour. Really, he had no interest in waking you from your sleep unless he really, really had to. And if he had time to sit and scroll through hotels, you had time to sleep.

He let out a breath. “Apparently everything.”

She laughed. “Hey, you said it, not me. But if you can't put her up think I heard Santos offering up a sofa.”

Robby looked around the space, trying to find Santos or Whitaker to confirm. He didn't see either of them.

It was decided in his head then that he'd have to ask you to take up his guest room. He'd act it was all under the pretence of making sure you were well-rested, had a decent bed and your own space to sleep in, assuring you could get the rest and come in bright eyed and bushy tailed. Deep down he'd know, just to himself, it was because there was a seething bite of envy at the idea of Santos having you waking in her apartment, going home with you at the end of the day.

He dragged his hands down his face as Princess called out his name, demanding his attention.

What was a couple days, anyway.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

You looked up from your tablet, handing it over to Jesse as you stepped away from exam room six.

Robby stepped in Jesse's place, hands deep in his pockets, shoulders lifted high.

“Two hours,” you said. “I was asleep for two hours.”

“Sweet dreams?” he asked.

Yes. There had been dreams and rest. The blanket hadn't felt so scratchy and as tired as you were the noises of the Pitt were muffled in your mind. By the time you woke up your body felt lighter, you could practically feel the bags under your eyes retreat. Then you stepped out and there were new sets of patients, a different lighting in the place and the hour hand had moved all away around the clock.

“I dreamt there was a long que of patients waiting for the room,” you said. “A line like at Disney, except without the pay off.”

“They fast tracked to another,” he excused. “Can I talk to you now?”

He seemed restless, fists balling up in his fleece pockets and glasses tucked away in the front. His hair was tussled slightly, as if he'd already done a full day of work while you'd slept.

You waited for him to go on, watching his mouth open and close before he shook his head at himself, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I did some research,” he said, dragging out his words, in the way he did when he was nervous. You'd seen it when he was trying to let down every one of his flings, scared it was gonna end up loud in the middle of his ER. “Hotels in the area are expensive, I have a spare room, got a bed, it's big, my place is spacious and I'm hardly ever there. No garden but there's a balcony-”

Robby listed aspects of his apartment like he was putting it up for sale.

It took some time for you to realise what he was saying. A spare room, yours, he was offering. You caught the fact he'd looked up hotel rooms and suddenly you were imagining him, phone pulled out with the glow reflecting on his readers. Was he frowning at the prices? Was he rubbing at his beard in frustration, thinking which you'd prefer.

Was he hoping to find you a room so he didn't feel obliged to give up his own?

“That's- that's very kind of you, Robby,” you said softly, letting yourself down gently. “I- I can't do that.”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Take your room.”

“It's not my room, it's a spare.”

You blushed, thinking that he thought you were thinking about staying in his room. “No! No, I-I get that, I just- I can't put you out like that.”

Robby rocked forward on his heels. “You wouldn't. Really.”

“I'm sure I could find somewhere cheap-”

“- you can't-”

“- or I can check around with friends-”

“- Santos only has a sofa,” he said, raising his brows.

“I-I have other friends.”

Robby pressed his lips into a thin line. “Like me?”

He was insistent. Had someone put him up to it? Had he seen how tired you were and felt bad?

Every morning you woke and before walking into work you took a shovel to the feelings you held for Robby and buried them deep, deep down, plunging a sign that read remain professional into the ditch of your own creation. You called him boss and cap, reminding yourself that's what he was. Of course a friend was another title too, but calling him friend and invading his space wasn't going to do much for your feelings. Or your nerves. And you liked to think you'd done a pretty good job in keeping both in check.

Robby rocked on his feet again, almost jittering. “I don't charge rent, you'd be saving some money.”

How many more excuses could you come up with? How long could you stand here going back and forth?

“How many bathrooms?” you asked.

“Just one.”

“You live in a quiet area?”

“Very.”

“You don't have a cat do you?”

He shook his head with a small smirk. “No. I had fish but lost them.”

You nodded, arms hugging yourself. Admitting yourself into his hands wasn't just a jump, more a leap. Denying yourself had been easier in work, when glimpses of Robby between procedures and patients was all you could gauge yourself on. In his space, you'd become full.

“Say yes and I'll put your stuff in my truck.”

Future regret bubbled up in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you said, earning a slump of relief from him. “But I'm paying rent while I stay.”

He shook his head. “I don't need it.”

“It'll make me feel better,” you said. “I have to do something.”

Robby looked past you, thinking for a moment. “You cook?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then. While you're staying with me-” he jutted his thumbs at himself, like he was proud. “You can cook dinner, if you want.”

It wasn't a terrible service. More often then not you'd seen Robby slump his way out the place, mentioning something about a restaurant he was stopping by to pick up food that might last him a couple days. It would be like taking care of him and wasn't that what he was doing here? Taking care of you?

In a friendly way, of course.

“I will cook dinner,” you agreed.

“Great.” Robby seemed to relax in front of your eyes: his hands came out of his pockets, his shoulders shrunk and the crinkles at his eyes showed in a smile. “Your stuff's in my truck already.”

“Presumptuous,” you said, calling after him as he backed off slowly.

He shrugged. “Hopeful.”

But what did he have to hope for?

“Hey,” said Santos breathless and approaching you, moving your gaze from the pull of Robby's back to her. “I've got our labs back on that guy in seven.”

“Oh- er, great, great.” The tablet takes up your attention, but your mind lingers on the crows feet at Robby's eyes, the smile you saw briefly when you agreed to go home with him.

But Trinity Santos never missed a beat. “What was that about?” she asked in an uplifting teasing voice you were all too familiar with as she looked back at where Robby had disappeared to.

“What- what was what?”

“You and Robby, huh?”

“No. No me and Robby, don't make it weird.”

She smirked. “You're doing that all on your own.”

You carried yourself over to the nurses station, clocking Robby lingering in a corner, talking something over with Samira, so instead you distracted yourself with the tablet and charting. “He just offered me a place to stay.”

Santos's brows rose up high. “His place?”

You blushed under her analyses.

“Oh my god-”

“Don't- don't make it a thing-”

“It's already a thing,” she scoffed, leaning over and swatting at you. “You're staying at Robby's!”

“In his spare room, separate living completely.”

Santos leant back on the counter, looking around dreamily. “Suuurree, until you need the bathroom and just so happen to walk in on him, towel around his waist-”

“- Santos-”

“- it's all hot and steamy from his shower,” she continued. “And you just so happen to slip, right into his arms and- oh my- the towel falls.”

“You have too much time on your hands,” you said. “Go get Garcia for a surgical consult on twelve.”

Sulking, she did so, dragging her feet across the place while you were left to debate if the dent in your bank account was worth it to spare the dent in your heart.

A life with Robby was framed in different ways.

When you first stepped through his place, your case tugged in his hand and your bag slung over his shoulder along with his own, there was a thick layer of tension blanketing over everything, mystifying the tour he gave you. It didn't give in the morning when you both woke groggy from alarms, reaching for coffee. Through the day the tension sat between the two of you through patients and traumas.

It started to feel like a terrible idea.

Until you both went back to his that night and laughed about the couple that had super-glued themselves together, the teenage boy who got his head stuck in between balcony bars. You made mac & cheese, which Robby deemed the best he ever had but considering you only found kraft cheese boxes in his cupboards, you didn't think much of it.

Then the routine built, mugs of coffee in the morning, a hearty breakfast started by whoever was up earlier in the morning, taking turns in the bathroom with only the occasional awkward bump in to each other in between brushings of teeth.

It was one morning when he stepped out, a smudge of minty white toothpaste in the corner of his mouth.

“You've got a bit of-” you'd told him, gesturing to the corner of his mouth by your own.

He rubbed and missed it completely and your hand reached out first. It was like you were watching it outside of your own body, as your thumb swiped away at the corner of his mouth, scratching at his beard.

Every morning since then Robby had walked out with that same bit of smudged toothpaste and every time you spotted it, you got rid of it for him.

Feeling the heat of his breath dance along your fingertips.

The peppermint smell of him clinging like second skin.

The wet fall of his hair, droplets dripping down to your feet.

It made every morning harder, but made every one more the while.

In work, you had your own new routine between the two of you.

In the mornings everyone in the Pitt- including those that stuck around from night long enough- lingered to watch as you and Robby walked in side by side, heading straight for the fridge in the lounge.

There, Robby would pull out two containers of leftovers from the night before while talking about.... well, sometimes nobody could really tell what it was.

“- all I'm saying is that if it was real life they'd be shut down instantly,” Shen caught Robby telling you, shamelessly lingering in the door way with Abbot and Javadi.

“It's not real life, it's Disney.”

“It's a restaurant ran by a rat!”

“It's whimsy.”

Robby grumbled under his breath. “It's un-realistic.”

You laughed and as busy as you were laughing you didn't see the look Robby gave you, a smile of his own. A soft one, because when he was looking at you, nothing had to be loud. “Just wait till you watch Cinderella, the rats sew a dress!”

Abbot was first to clear his throat. “Good morning, happy couple.”

And Robby's expression dropped, passing a glare to his friend.

As distracted as he was with the glare, he didn't see the way your face fell. The disappointment that marred your features.

“Got anything fun for me?” asked Robby, clapping his hands and getting to business, taking the night shift attendings by the shoulders and dragging them out.

Javadi entered in, a sheepish smirk on her lips. “So, how's it going?” she asked with all the air of a girl needing gossip.

“It's fine,” you said.

It had been three weeks of living inside of his apartment, of his space becoming yours, of shows he'd never think about watching slowly enrapturing him.

“Just fine?” she asked. “Isn't this supposed to be the part where the two of you get together?”

It was a few beers kind of mistake to tell Javadi on your feelings for Robby. But she was a med-student harbouring hard feelings for Matteo and you'd been desperate to bond and suddenly it turned into Javadi shooting you looks across the floor whenever Robby got too close, and he was doing that a lot recently.

“No, no, that's crossing so many lines,” you excused.

“Yeah but, he invited you to stay.”

“As a friendly gesture.”

“And how friendly do we know Robby to be?”

With you, very. With others it was more a tough game to play to get Robby to show some sympathy.

Your mouth was left ajar, stuttering on words you couldn't even come up with when Princess drummed her knuckles on the door.

“Louie's in south nineteen, asking for you.”

Never had you been so thankful to be called away on a patient run, especially when it was one of your terribly concealed favourites.

But you didn't leave quick enough to not catch how Princess crowded in Victoria, asking her what the latest was.

You managed to skirt your way over to nineteen without any more fans asking you about your new living situations. You were more than happy to hide away with Louie.

“Hey, doc!” he grinned as you let the door shut behind you.

“Louie, it's been weeks, what took you so long?” you joked, taking the stool and wheeling over to him with a smile. Really, you'd been worried when he hadn't come in- counting two months down since his last visit. It didn't give you hope that he was doing better, it filled you with dread he'd given up entirely.

He chuckled. “Sorry, doc, been busy.”

“A good busy?”

“Always.”

It was one of those slow nights when Louie came in when you and Robby were working- a Tuesday night where you were just about to go home when you checked in on Louie one more time, finding him half way through a devastating story on his life.

You'd cried in the bathroom and Robby had silently handed you a tissue when you stepped out, cold water splashed in your face.

“Hold out your hand for me, Louie,” you said, watching him do so with a tremble you could have bet your money on. “Shaky, huh?”

“Well it is eight a.m,” he grinned.

“We'll start you with fifty of Librium, as always. Anything else bothering you, Louie?”

“I had some aching in my side, right there-” diligently he showed you the pain, wincing as he pressed down on the pain.

You tugged on gloves and did an exam, finding the are bruised.

“You been in any trouble recently?” you asked, knowing that if Louie ever was in a fight, it would never be started by him. He was happy to drink silently.

“Not that I remember, maybe with a stool,” he joked.

You smiled with him, testing out spots of his chest and asking him to breathe in, listening down the stethoscope. “Everything seems fine but we'll get an ultrasound in to check you over.”

He waved you off. “Don't rush, doc, I like to watch the people go by sometimes.”

You entertained him. “Course, I'll be back shortly.”

You got Perlah on the case, someone just as happy to see Louie as you were, the duo that took the best care of him. Then you were occupied with slowly ticking off the board, discharging simple cases, working harder on the demanding ones.

At some point in the morning Robby slid in next to you, taking his place casually.

“I think I win for most interesting case today,” he said.

Happily, you looked up from your charts. “I didn't realise it was a competition?”

“Competition keeps you young,” he said, head nodding side to side.

“I'm not the one that needs to be kept young,” you teased.

There was smirk of shock that gave way to darkening eyes and a straighter back when he pulled himself up.

“You wanna play that?”

“I'm playing that,” you said. “I'm surprised you don't have an old mans seat when you shower.”

“I didn't realise you thought about me showering.”

It took you so off guard your elbow slipped, taking down someone's abandoned coffee.

“Shit!” You cursed, clamouring to the shards and spilt liquid.

Robby was still chuckling to himself when he knelt next to you, collecting the bits of mug in his hands, taking what you had in yours to his also.

“I- I don't think about you showering,” you said, quietly. “Of course I don't, I just- I just meant- a joke. It was a joke.”

Robby inhaled, tilting his head to get a look at you. “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, god, I-I didn't-”

Your name was cried out and the shards of China fell back to the ground as Perlah helplessly stood outside of Louie's room. Almost slipping on the coffee, you took off in a run, Robby hot on your heels as you burst through the doors.

“He just- he just started-” Perlah panicked among the blood.

He lay still, un-responsive and you didn't miss a beat in jumping up, pumping down on his chest with gloves, without a gown, just the need to save a life that had been drilled into you.

His blood got on your hands, under your nails as with every pump down on his chest, you pumped more blood out.

“Get an intubation tray, crash cart and suction, now!” Robby called as a flood of nurses assembled around you. He was intubated and a bag put in place, a nurse came in for suction and the heavy rolling wheels of the crash cart sounded.

It fell upon you muffled as your arms shook while pressing down on his chest.

“We can swap out,” Robby offered quietly from behind you.

“No, no, I- I got this,” you said through the gasps and slow bead of sweat beginning down your temple. “C'mon Louie, c'mon-”

Perlah stretched over, slamming down pads on his chest, under the gown that practically had his name on it from how often he visited. “Pads in place!”

“Hold compressions!” said Robby.

You backed up enough to get a reading, getting a dull feeling of Robby's hands on your arms as you trembled. “Still V-Fib,” you said, climbing off the bed. “Charge to two hundred!”

“Charged!”

“Clear!”

So it went on, maybe only for minutes, maybe for an hour. A continuous rhythm of your chest compressions, the push of epi, the constant let down of no pulse, the flow of blood. And Robby's eyes only fumble from you to check on Louie before returning to you.

Everyone in the room hung on the thread of the flatline.

“Do we push more epi?” asked Perlah.

There was a silence behind you but you could picture the slow shake of Robby's head. You'd seen it in dozens of patients, in several helpless cases.

“Robby?” you called out helplessly, without knowing what you were calling for.

He was slow in his approach to you but you could feel him closer, know he was reaching out. “We've done everything we can.” It wasn't harsh. It wasn't kind. It was fact and sometimes fact was neither thing.

His hand was gentle on your shoulder, not squeezing or pulling. Just there. It was enough for you to feel everything deep down in your bones, the pressure of trying to bring him back to life making you weak and Robby's touch helping you give up.

You didn't recall the calling of his time of death, or the stumbling out the room, the wiping down of his blood on your scrubs. You didn't know anything until you made it out to the ambulance bay, drinking in gulps of fresh air that seemed to poison you more then help.

It clamped down on your chest and choaked at your throat-

“Hey, hey- it's okay, you're okay-”

Arms were tugging at you, pulling you into a chest you'd grown knwon with.

You pushed back. “No, no, I'm bloody, I- I can't-”

“Shh-” Robby cooed.

He embraced you tightly, suffocating you into his chest like he was trying to tell the rest of the world to go away, to shield you from the hospital and ambulances would inevitably come by. Robby stood there, arms strong and protecting you. He rocked slightly, lips pressed to the top of your head like it was a natural thing to do. Like you'd never felt them there or anywhere else before.

“I'm sorry,” you sniffed into his chest.

“No, don't be- shh,” he whispered into you. “You did everything you could.”

“He's gone, he's gone,” you mumbled.

Robby held you until he felt he could let you go, which proved a while. By the time you'd dragged yourself back in, red faced and teary eyed word had spread about Louie. Robby remained behind you, a hand curling against the lower parts of your back as he guided you through to the scrub bin, daring anyone to stop and ask you what happened.

He was a dog ready to bite.

“Take some time,” he said in the same air he'd used to ask you to stay with him. With no room for arguments.

You changed scrubs, met Perlah in the middle of the nurses hub for support. When Louie's body was took to the viewing room, Robby stayed stuck at your side, fingers brushing yours as he let everyone who wanted to say goodbye, say it.

By your side he stayed for the rest of the day, with biting breaths and lingering looks. His touches became every other moment, every spare second he knelt next to you, checking in.

“I'm fine,” you told him repeatedly as the day went on, as new patient names clouded your mind and traumas stole your attention.

“We'll get out of here, tonight,” he promised, hand edging closer to yours. Closer to something he wouldn't be able to take back. “No cooking tonight, we'll pick something up.”

“I can- I can cook-”

Robby shook his head. “And you can pick the movie.”

You smiled, though it was tainted from the pain. “Even if it has talking animals?”

His eyes rolled playfully as he sighed, pushing himself up. “If you must.” His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he squeezed, moving by.

When you looked back up you weren't surprised to see the fleeing eyes of Dana over her glasses.

She knew you'd caught her but only turned and walked off. You didn't know how you knew she was still smiling, but you knew.

By the time you and Robby got home- back to his- the sky had darkened and the Thai was procured on the drive back.

He'd let you shower first, knowing you still felt the need to scrub the phantoms of the day from you. You'd been so desperate you'd left your own wash bag in your room, your own robe there. So you bathed in Robby's signature smell, washed your hair in his shampoo that wasn't a two in one.

You wrapped yourself in a towel that was fluffy and smelt like him, wiping down condensation from the window before letting yourself sit with the grief.

It was never a good idea, alone in your own apartment to let the day haunt you. In Robby's place, surrounded by a smell that was all his, you safely let yourself remember the wobble in your arms, the pain in your heart and ache in your body.

You stood, re-tucking the towel around you when the door burst open at once.

“Shit- shit-”

You grasped at the towel as it slipped down your body, clutching it to your chest before it could expose everything.

Robby stood, frozen in the doorway, his lips parted slowly. “Shit- sorry, I thought you were done.”

“I'm- I'm finishing up,” you gulped.

Robby nodded, hand clenched on the door.

You watched his eyes catch a glance past your shoulder, seeing something there that had a blush creeping up his neck and ears. Something that made him bashful and looking away.

A chill ran down your body, from the toll of the day, the lack of clothing around you or the look Robby gave you.

“I'll, er- just...” you trailed off.

Robby closed his eyes, breathing deep. “Yeah. Yeah.”

The door inched closed slower. Before it shut completely you were sure Robby paused, sure you heard him inhale and sigh before you caught the retreat of his footsteps.

You body sunk in on itself, catching the electricity buried under your skin by just being looked at by him. At the idea that he could smell him on you.

It wasn't until you turned, catching a glimpse of yourself in the wiped down mirror that you realised.

Wiped down.

When Robby glanced behind you- to the mirror- he'd blushed at the sight of that part of you left bare. The slope of your back, the dimples that sat just above your ass and the curve of you.

He'd got a glimpse of it. Not just a glimpse by the way he paused- an eyeful.

“Fuck.”

It was bound to happen, maybe, with how long the two of you had been in co-habitation. But the day had been messy enough. Navigating the corners of yours and Robby's changed relationship.... you didn't have the nerve, though it felt alight by his look.

Maybe he hadn't seen anything, you told yourself as you dressed.

He probably didn't even notice, you said as you threw your damp hair up.

Just don't bring it up and he probably won't, you repeated as you stepped out.

When you came back out Robby was hiding in the kitchen, tucking himself right into the counter as he set up several dishes of all the food you'd ordered. His head was tucked low but there was a new sheen of sweat at the expanse of his neck still poking out from his scrubs.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologised, slipping into a stool across from him.

He shook his head and shrugged without looking at you.

“Smells good!” you said, reaching for the food that lay between you.

Muscles in Robby's jaw moved. Tightening.

You watched his tongue run over the bottom of his lip before he stepped back from the counter, a finger running over his lips as he excused himself quickly.

It was just a glimpse you thought you caught, something tightening in his scrub pants exenterated by his hands trying to be discreet in covering it (and failing).

Only when you went back to the bathroom an hour later, to brush your teeth did you notice the very, very cold setting of the shower. But if he didn't bring it up, neither would you.

Robby was only supposed to be passing. It had been ten minutes since he last caught a glimpse of you and he decided that was nine minutes too long.

He couldn't pinpoint when exactly the obsession started, if he wanted to call it that. It could have been when your things started to pile up at his, your favourite mug that you drank from sitting comfortably next to his every morning, or the cook books you went back to like it was your bible. It might've been before you'd even effectively moved in with him. Maybe when he saw the way you commanded a room around a trauma, never once doubting yourself.

Whenever it began it only increased with every good morning he got, every night and gentle touch he felt.

And finding you in that bathroom, a blink and miss it moment when your towel started to fall. The expanse of everything behind you that you were so un-aware of.

Robby felt dirty for the erection he supported most the night, even after the coldest shower of his life and taking care of it in his bed when you were sure you were asleep.

It had taken every bit of taught and measure self-restraint to keep his hands off you. You'd had a tough day, Robby throwing himself at your mercy wasn't going to help.

But it had been a week since then, a week of near misses and close calls in the bathroom the two of you were treating like a battleground. The splotches of toothpaste he let linger on him got further and further along his mouth, the playing clueless became more silly. The brushed past each other in the kitchen when there was plenty of room became more telling.

It was all supposed to be going somewhere.

“ - while she is playing house with her boss,” he caught Santos saying, hers, yours and Javadi's backs to him as he slowed his approach.

“It's messy,” said Victoria.

“Oh, would you- the two of you stop,” you said. “It's not like that.”

“No?” asked Javadi.

“It's not like what?” he heard the teasing uplift of Trinity's voice.

“Like what you're trying to say,” you argued. “Robby and I are friends, just friends.”

Santos nodded, head lowering. “Sure. Friends. Friends with house mate benefits.”

“What are house mate benefits?” asked Javadi, looking over to you enough that Robby could catch a grin.

“Oh, use your imagination,” said Santos. “One bathroom, two people, trips to get water from the kitchen, in nothing but skimpy little-”

Robby could practically see the face you were pulling.

“Oh, can we not talk about this?” you said. “Nothing like that has happened, nothing like that will happen. We're friends, just friends.”

Robby didn't realise how badly he must have wanted it to be more until he heard you dismiss it out of hand. Until he heard the mocking chuckle of his doctors at what you were saying. That nothing was ever going to happen, essentially admitting you didn't think about the escapade in the bathroom as much as he did.

Why would you? You probably thought it was odd and gross how he lingered. How he acted the rest of the night- withdrawn and ashamed- probably didn't help.

What? Did he think that after spending more time with him, living with him, you'd grow to care in a way he had for you. In a way he'd tried to ignore for months?

Did he really think he stood a fucking chance?

He was hyper aware of himself, standing there like an idiot with the fading mark of his heart on his sleeve. Soon somebody would call his name, his game would be up and the three of you would turn to him, catching him there.

Robby cleared his throat and shouldered between you and Victoria, practically tossing the tablet down. “Guy in five needs a surgical consult on a blood clot.”

Santos held up her hands to be clear of it and Javadi was walking away at once.

Robby watched you take it and he left.

It was time to start re-building his heart.

“Hey,” you said, quick to follow him. “I was thinking of trying a carbonara tonight, do you like it?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Cool. You know if we have parmigiana?”

“I have more pressing things to think about then what's in my fridge,” he said.

You were quiet for a moment and he hoped he'd scared you away. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? Has something happened?”

“No,” he huffed, halting at the door to trauma two where a car crash victim was under the scope of three capable doctors. What was one more? “Now instead of pestering me can you go do you're fucking job?”

The flash of hurt in your eyes was almost enough to have him apologising. To have him cave and tell you he didn't want to just be friends, that he couldn't go a day without feeling you and being calmed instantly.

Almost.

Your lips pursed and you held the tablet up to your chest like it was a shield. “I will get right on that, boss.”

The tension that began at his house when you first joined him in the space of his walls falls returned, un-invited, with a vengeance.

After Robby's snap at you you figured it was a bad day, that things had piled up and him and he didn't want to talk about it. He still waited for you at the end of his shift, still drove you home but in a silence that was stale. He went to the bathroom first and you started on dinner, making two plates of the pasta you'd promised.

He never left his room that night and his dinner was still sitting on the counter in the morning.

It continued for three days. No blushing meetings outside of the bathroom, no movie's he'd fall asleep to and miss the end- though insisting he was only resting his eyes- it all stopped, quickly.

So quick you had no time to think of what had gone wrong.

“Hey,” said Victoria, lingering next to you as you went back to your search for cheap hotels that didn't have complaints of bug bites.

“Hey.”

“Your leftovers smell so good.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn't even pack lunch today,” she added, a small smile bitten back.

You huffed a laugh. “You can take Robby's, I don't think he's hungry.”

“Really?” she said. “He's usually very punctual about your lunches.”

He was, until a few days ago when you'd tried to find him to see if he was hungry, so you could sit down to your leftover together as you had done. But he'd brushed by you, telling you he wasn't hungry. He did so every day you asked.

“Has something happened?” asked Victoria.

Yes, something had clearly happened but you didn't know what.

“No, just.... Robby being Robby I guess.” You shrugged it off but the indifference hurt because it wasn't just Robby being Robby. You'd found a different Robby, the one that wasn't snapping and grumpy every day, the one who coaxed you to your room when you were too tired to move from the sofa, the one who let you hum along to the songs in the movies you'd pick, the Robby that made you coffee just the way you like. You'd never even had to tell him.

“Oh. I'm sorry,” she said. “You know if I didn't live with my parents I'd let you stay, of course.”

You smiled. “I know. Thanks.”

The hotel you settled on wasn't in the top ten in the city and it was nearly forty minutes out of your way. Earlier mornings were a small price to pay.

You let Robby drive you home without conversation, let him tirelessly switch from one radio to the other. Your fingers curled and un-curled against your knees in anxiety.

“My-urm- apartment is up and running again,” you said.

Robby's knuckles bleached white on the steering wheel. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I can get my stuff packed up and be out your hair.”

Robby didn't say anything. You glanced at him, seeing the tightness of his body and the eyes he kept plastered on the road. “It's late,” he said, mouth moving to say something else before he closed it again and thought. “I can give you a lift over.”

“You- you don't have to,” you said. The idea of one more tense car ride was enough to have you thinking about jumping out the moving vehicle. “I can book an uber.”

“It's late.”

Robby kept himself busy while you packed up the clothes you'd un-packed in the wardrobe in his room. He packed up your toiletries and your kitchen things that had slowly wound themselves in his cupboards.

You were already at the door, your case and bag standing next to you, your phone warming in your hand as you checked your hotel booking and uber confirmation.

Robby walked out from the bathroom, your toiletery bag in hand.

“I've got an uber booked,” you told him, quickly. “It's been a long day, I didn't want you to have to drive anymore.”

He nodded, slowly, handing you the bag. “Okay.” His hands retreated back to his pockets.

You loitered. You still had ten minutes before your uber on the way. “I'm sorry if I out-stayed my welcome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “However long it took to get your place fixed.”

“Still, I didn't mean for it to take this long.”

Robby didn't reply and his gaze faded away from you.

It was a heavy goodbye. The longer you'd stayed with him the little time you gave to thinking how leaving would work. You wouldn't be escaping him, no, he'd be stuck in your mind and lingering in the corner of your gaze. You'd still remember how he looked when he was falling asleep, how his shower smelt and the way he stretched in the morning.

They'd all be happy memories of another time.

You took it with you like extra baggage into the uber and into the two star hotel.

Robby knew he was ingraining himself into the night shift longer than he needed to but since you left a week ago his apartment was cold, empty and he loathed it.

He hated that there was no other noise, no other mug sitting next to his, nobody to talk to. Hated it so much he was choosing the taunting walls of the Pitt over heading back.

“You thinking of joining the night crawlers?” Jack asked, finding Robby stretching at the hub of the Pitt.

“Nope.”

“Oh. It's just, you're still here, so I assumed,” Jack teased.

“I get it,” said Robby in a sing-song voice.

“It can't be that bad, can it?” asked Abbot. “You see her tomorrow.”

Robby wished he could say he didn't know what Jack was talking about but it was painfully obvious to everyone that he couldn't deny it himself. There was no more coming in together, in fact, you'd been coming in late but he was doing his best to avoid you he couldn't talk to you to find out why. He no longer had a tub of well-cooked food or your teasing invitation to eat with you.

It felt like he had nothing all over again.

He looked down to the nurses counter, picking at a mark on there. “It's just...” he trailed, trying to think of a word to sum it all up.

“Yeah?” asked Jack, leaning next to him.

“Quiet.” He decided on.

Jack nodded, slowly. He glanced away before frowning at whatever he'd found. “What happened anyway? The pipes at her place were fixed so you just kicked her out?”

“No, she wanted to leave.”

“So you guys can't just, hang out?” he asked, holding his hands behind his back.

Robby made a pfft noise. “Hang out?”

“Well, Dana says-”

“- Dana-” he scoffed.

“Dana says the two of you can hardly look at each other,” said Jack. “Seems to be a change from what I'd heard before.”

Robby looked at him. “And what did you hear before?”

“You laugh,” he said, like it was a rare phenomenon. “Heard you joke. Saw you smile. Saw you happy.”

He thought about you, grinning with Santos and Javadi as you told them you were just friends, that nothing had happened and nothing was going to happen. He remembered how you looked at him first thing in the mornings and last thing at night, how you were- and still- were on his mind as he laid his head down and pushed himself up in the morning.

“She... she made it clear that nothing was going to happen between us,” Robby admitted.

“And you wanted more?”

Robby was still, the flecks of the stain coming off under his nail.

“Want more?” Jack corrected.

He nodded.

“And did you tell her that?”

It was rather annoying, sometimes, how well Jack knew him.

“I didn't have to.”

“I think you did. You still do,” said Jack. “Just talk to her man, tell her how you feel-”

Robby shook his head at once. “- no-”

“Robby. Brother,” said Jack with a firm pat on his back. “I've seen how you look at her. I've seen how she looks at you. Take it from me, it would be a waste to let that go.”

He didn't want to let it go, but Robby didn't know how to hold on either.

“Hey, big bosses!” Lena called. “Got major trauma's coming, hotel caught fire. We're the closest hospital, Westbridge can only take two traumas and ten minors.”

“Send them our way, I'll round up the crawlers!” said Jack already sliding into his professionalism.

“I'll hang around then,” said Robby, almost spitefully proving a point to Jack. That he didn't need to go home.

“I'm giving you an hour.”

An hour was all he needed.

A flood of people, most in their sleep wear, robes hastily thrown and tied up flooded in. Many were covered in ash, faces grey or pale. They were checked over for smoke inhalation, nobody got through without a stethoscope to their chest and back. There was a family of four who's father was being treated for bad burns. An elderly man with cancer that was put up to south eighteen, chefs from the small hotel kitchen that were being seen for burns, damage to their lungs and everything else.

“I told you! I told you!” one of them shouted, accent foreign to Robby. “That place is a death trap! It was just waiting to go up in flames!”

Robby stepped out and decided to let them argue, tugging of gloves and fetching another pair from the always stocked box on the wall. “Is that everyone?”

“Just one more, pulling up now!” said Lena, yelling over the chaos the ED had turned into to.

Just one more. That heavy set of exhaustion was starting to settle in his feet, making them ache. It was nearing one in the morning, in five hours time he'd need to be up and heading in.

He thought it was the need for sleep that had him hearing your voice.

“Mark Tellon, on his seventies, severe smoke inhalation and asthma attack. No signed nasal hair, his pulse ox is at eighty-four wet crackles bilaterally!”

There was no such thing as dreaming.

Robby stumbled at the sight of you in bottoms that were too long for you, in a cartoon character he couldn't name, in a shirt that drowned you. He guessed it was once white but was stained in ash and smoke, as was your face and hair.

You wheeled in the man with the paramedics and Robby stepped just ahead.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“Hotel caught fire, quick evacuation, this is everyone,” you listed, clinically.

“You were there?”

You glanced up at him as the bed of the old man was wheeled by the two of you. He watched your face fall, smudging ash as you wiped at your forehead. “Er-”

Robby didn't care for the answer. Well, he did but not when your eyes were hazy, skin clammy and smoke and ash covered you. His hands climbed at your cheeks, holding you there and looking into your eyes. “Have you been checked over?”

“Urm, no I'm fine-”

“C'mon-”

“What? Robby!” you protested even as his fingers wrapped around your forearms, dragging you across the floor and past patients waiting for consults and doctors and nurses clearly rushed off their feet.

There was no spare room available but the family room so Robby took you there, where it was empty, and closed the door behind him.

You were stuck, again, alone with Robby. Exactly the place you'd tried not to be. But he'd closed the door behind him, zoned in on you with that tight crease of worry between his brows.

You stood there, holding onto yourself.

Robby made you follow his finger with your eyes, his other hand steadying your cheek as he watched you. “Any dizziness?”

“No, I'm fine.”

He took his penlight out from his pocket of tricks next, shining the light and checking your pupil response, you knew how it all worked and let him go through the motions. “You inhaled smoke?” he asked.

“Probably. I was trying to make sure everyone got out, first.”

There was a tut from his lips but a small upturn in his cheeks.

“Course you were,” he mumbled, ditching the pen light when he was done with it.

“Honestly, I'm fine, I'll just need a shower.”

Robby was already making his way behind you, warming up the drum of his stethoscope in the palm of his hand. Still, when you felt the brush of his rough fingertips skirting over the skin of your back and the metal pressing along, you shivered. “Breathe in.”

You took a deep breath in, Robby's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

“Breathe out.”

You did everything he said.

He moved so he was in front of you, sliding the stethoscope down the front of your shirt, closer over the drum of your heart.

Robby's eyes remained lower, not meeting your gaze. “Breathe in.”

Your chest expanded into his hand.

“Your heart's racing,” he observed.

You swallowed down the feeling of him so close. “Yeah. Probably. Been a crazy night.”

Gently his hands smoothed down your arms, sitting you down on the leather chairs as he set himself on the small coffee table in front of you.

“Want to tell me why you were at the hotel to begin with?” he asked, elbows rested on his knees and hands clasped together. “Cause I can come up with my own ideas and I don't like them.”

Lying to him had proved a silly task time and time again.

“My apartment isn't actually ready to be lived in yet,” you admitted, low in your throat and looking down to his hands. The only update you had from your apartment was that it would take another week, followed by a hopefully.

“No?” he said in fake disbelief.

You shook your head. “I just guessed I'd out stayed my welcome, you wanted to be alone.”

“No,” he said. “No, you didn't. You could've stayed.”

You eyed Robby. “You didn't really seem like you wanted me there anymore.”

You watched as he sighed, shoulders slumping.

Robby's fingers thread and un-thread. “It wasn't like that.”

“I mean did I- did I do something?” you asked, a spew of words ready at the barrel of your gun. “I thought we were okay.”

“So did I,” he said, bringing up his gaze and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “So did I.”

“Then what?”

Robby pushed himself up, hands flying to the back of his head and patting down his hair. His boots scuffed against the floor as he paced the area small and not built for pacing. “I thought things were going really well,” he admitted, hands making a weak gesture between the two of you. “I thought there were moments.”

“There were!” you opposed, quickly.

Was this a chance you'd been looking for? Was he wanting you to say there was something more? That the touches and everything else meant something.

He looked at you, arms pulling over his chest. “But we're just friends, right?”

There was a way he was saying it, a bite to his words like a dog barking, trying to make a point. Just friends.

With your head spinning you remembered another time of saying those words. You remembered Santos's teasing (really it was hard to pick one particular moment out from it all) and Javadi there too. You remembered their teasing grins, asking you about benefits-

And how Robby forced the tablet in between the three of you.

Your head hung, hands wiping away the stress. “Oh god.”

Robby waited.

“Oh god,” your voice came out muffled by your own hands. “Robby-”

“Yeah, I started to like you,” he said, trying to make it all seem like it was no big deal, body moving to shake it of. “I shouldn't, I know. I'm your boss, you're the resident, you were staying with me as a guest.”

“Robby, I-” you pushed yourself up, making your way around the table.

“- and you made it very clear to Doctor Santos and Doctor Javadi-”

“- they were teasing me, it was- it was nothing. I didn't mean it! I mean, they'd been teasing me for weeks, they were just annoying me.”

His body moved in his breath as looked at you. “You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not!”

“You lied about your place. Instead you chose a hotel, one that was a death trap, apparently.”

“I thought you hated me!”

“No, I want you!”

“And I want you!” you yelled.

“You didn't tell me.”

“Well, you didn't tell me.”

Robby scoffed. “Yeah, I'm the one who's supposed to have communication issues, sweetheart.”

Within seconds you had thrown yourself into Robby's arms, practically leaping atop him and kissing him. His lips were frozen, body waking up slowly as his arms curled around your back, holding you in. You could feel the scrunch of his noise and the scrape of his beard as he didn't kiss you back.

You pulled away, keeping your eyes down.

Just because he wanted you, because you wanted him didn't mean throwing yourself at him (literally!) was going to work.

“I-I'm sorry, I thought-”

His hands drowned your face as he pulled you back in, head dipping low to lick his tongue into you. He pressed his mouth into your, letting his tongue in your mouth. His hands tilted your head back, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he reacted to you at once.

Your hands tugged a hold of his hoodie, bending him further along you while his hands slowed down your body, cupping your backside and digging his fingers in.

Some noise made its way out the back of his throat, groaning into your mouth.

“Are we-” you said against his lips. “Mmp; are we doing this right now?”

“Doing what?” He mumbled, tilting his head to nudge your mouth open deeper.

You smiled against him. “Making out in the family room?”

“God, I hope so.”

His mouth was open, warm and welcoming as he kissed you harder, finding parts of you nobody had ever found before.

“I meant it,” said Robby against you, his tongue running over the tip of your lip. “I want you.”

You nudged your nose with his, arms coming to wrap around the back of his neck. “I mean it. I don’t- we’re not just friends, Robby.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, smirking. “I don’t think think friends kiss each other the way I’m about to kiss you.”

for a second, you say nothing. you just stare in that way you sometimes do, attention stuttering over his features. the shape of his mouth, the curl of his lashes, the freckle just above his left brow that you've claimed as your favorite.

"no," you admit softly. "i've never faked anything with you, andy."

"but you've still never finished, right?"

you shake your head in dismissal and set your drink on his nightstand. "it's not about just that, though. not with you."

his brows furrow, and he tries to understand but can't quite wrap his head around it. he wants to ask for clarification, but there's a part of him that fears the answer.

but you see it, even without a word spoken. you see him, the way you always do. the way you always have. "i just like being close to you," you explain. "you always make me feel...i dunno. special."

"you are special," he says. it's not meant as a compliment. rather just truth. but it makes you smile, and pope finds himself wanting to say it again.

he lifts his hand from where it sits at his side, not much more than a twitch, nearly reaching for you out of instinct. but then he puts it back down again, unsure of himself, unsure of...this.

the space between you feels precarious. a new layer of naked truth stripped bare. another curtain pulled back.

you notice, but you don't push.

andrew tries again, heart racing fast as he sets his palm on the inside of your knee. “we could…would you want to…to try?”

a smirk pulls at the corners of your pretty lips, glossy and strawberry flavored (andrew knew, because he paid for that lipgloss at the beauty store you dragged him to a month ago). “you wanna try and make me cum?”

he shrugs and strokes his thumb across the top of your thigh. “if you want. i mean, no pressure anything like that but…it just feels wrong. like, unfair or something.”

“you actually want to?” this time it is a laugh that escapes you. a pretty, heartwarming sound he’s adored for as long as he can remember. “like…here? now?”

craig and deran’s party thrums with life just outside pope’s bedroom door. you’d come here for a little bit of peace, some respite. only to make a confession that unsettled him more than the noise. “why not?”

“what if i, like…you know. can’t.”

a crease forms between andrew’s brows. “well you have before, right? like, by yourself?”

your smile grows. “uhm…yeah. yeah, i have. i mean i can, but what if i can’t today. like, here.”

“then we try again later,” he answers simply. and then quickly amends, “i mean if—if you want.”

for a moment, you sit in the quiet together. you’re considering, pope knows. weighing the offer. his thumb still rubs tiny circles into your thigh casually. it’s an intimate touch but not sexual in nature, not suggestive.

not until you nod and say, “okay, yeah. we can try.”

and then he moves his hand upwards, slowly snaking his fingers between your legs. he presses against your hip, pushing you onto your back, and feels the metallic button of your jeans.

pope nearly pops it open on instinct but forces himself to slow down. tells himself he needs to take his time with this.

so he slips his hand beneath your top instead, cracking a small smile when you squirm as his fingertips ghost over that ticklish spot just a few inches below your rib. he finds the swell of your breasts and massages gently over the fabric of your bra.

you lean forward just enough to pull your top up and over your head, discarding it on the floor at his feet.

andrew reaches around your side and unclasps your bra, albeit a little clumsily, before adding it to the growing pile of your clothes.

when you lay back down, he follows you. presses his soft lips against the corner of your mouth first, a quiet asking for permission.

you turn your head to kiss him fully, lips parting to let him inside. andrew has never really felt good at much, but kissing you, specifically—he feels confident in. he's had a fair bit of practice, and knows just how you like it. messy and a little frantic, a clashing of tongues and lips and teeth.

you moan into his mouth and it feels like a victory. andrew bites harshly at your bottom lip, but he's quick to soothe the ache with his tongue.

he crawls further onto the bed, settling between your thighs, and moves his lips just a little lower. laying wet, open mouthed kisses down the curve of your pretty neck, over both of your collarbones, and sucks a blooming bruise at the side of your breast. easily covered, but still a tangible claiming. a mark of his possession.

he laves his tongue over each of your nipples, licking and sucking until your spine bends off the mattress. and then he moves even lower, littering kisses down your abdomen, breathing the scent of your soft skin deep into his lungs.

only now does he allow himself to unbutton your jeans, pulling the zipper down with his teeth. you're wearing a pretty, blue pair of panties beneath, and he presses a chaste kiss to your pubic bone over the fabric.

"god, andrew," you say, kicking your sneakers off at the end of the bed. "i love when you touch me."

he pulls away just a little, enough to turn his eyes up at you. you look so beautiful from this angle, he thinks. eyes glassy and pupils dilated, breathing unevenly. "m'gonna need you to talk to me. tell me what feels good and what doesn't," he explains. and then for good measure adds, "and don't lie to me. i'll know if you lie."

you give him the prettiest smile and then nod. "yeah…yeah, okay."

he doesn't waste any more time, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your jeans and underwear and tugging them down your legs.

pope is already hard as stone, but the moment you're bared to him everything changes. you're so beautiful, and all he wants is to make you feel good.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clit first, pushing your thighs apart to spread you open. then he drags his tongue through the seam of your cunt, tasting all the sticky wetness he's created, unable to quiet the groan that rumbles through his chest.

you let out a dreamy sigh and your head falls back as your hands come to tug at the roots of his hair.

pope takes his time; there's no hurried movement to be found. he lets his tongue grow familiar with every hill and valley of the shape of you, the stubble of his day-old facial hair catching on the inside of your thighs.

when he sucks your clit into his mouth—no teeth, just all tongue and lips and softness—you gasp for air and he can't help the pride that wells in him.

his fingers flex around your thigh, a silent urge.

and like the special girl you are, you quickly say, "good. feels…s-so good. that's perfect."

he takes it a notch higher, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerve endings.

this time it's not a gasp you give him but a sultry, real moan. so pope stays there, circling your clit with his tongue, spelling his name and yours and hoping it does something in the cosmos to seal the two of you permanently together.

the crease between your brows is telling. he squeezes again, a little harder this time, and pulls away only long enough to order, "talk to me."

"can you—" he seals his lips around your clit again, drool and slick coating his chin. "oh god. can you…your fingers, too. can you—?"

pope untangles his limb from around yours, finding your opening with practiced precision. he carefully slides his index finger inside you, humming in response when the intensity of your moaning grows.

he adds his middle finger in beside the first. you're already so wet that he encounters no resistance, pretty pussy taking him greedily. andrew curls them inside you, feeling and pressing against different spots, different angles, until—

"fuck—jesus christ, don't—oh my god don't move just stay right there, please."

he wants to praise you, to comment on how good you're being for him, how perfect.

but pope does exactly as you ask instead—he stays right where he's at, fingers moving inside you, tongue circling your pulsing clit. he can feel the silky walls of your cunt constricting around him, squeezing tight and pulling him in deeper.

you're trying. chasing it. but he knows it needs to happen organically. knows that if you try too hard, you'll get in your head about it and never fall over the edge like he wants.

the words vibrate against your clit when he speaks. "stop thinking."

you let out a dramatic groan. "but i don't know if i can," you whine. "i'm so—hm—i'm so close, but…"

pope pulls away completely now, because though spoken in frustration, your words are still direction. and he heeds it like a dog called to heel. "let's try something else, then."

he leans back on his knees and pulls his shirt up and over the back of his head. he flushes beneath your acute attention, eyes unashamed as they drink up his bare chest.

andrew unbuckles his belt and starts to shove them down his hips. "do you have a favorite…way? something that feels the best."

"oh, uhm…from—from the back, i guess?"

"you guess?"

"well, that's what feels good for me but it usually means…"

you hesitate, embarrassment shining bright in your eyes.

pope urges, "means what?"

"people don't typically…last very long when we—"

andrew playfully clicks his tongue, grips you around your thighs, and wrenches you down the mattress. he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and says, "don't worry, i'll last. now turn over."

he says it with confidence because this is a task for him. and a man like andrew cody? he's thorough.

but that confidence wavers when you arch your back, hands extended beneath the pillow in front of you. the slope of your body is mouth watering. graceful and feminine and yet still so sultry and sinful.

and when he pulls his cock out, lines himself up at your entrance, and pushes in real slow?

he starts to get it.

it's almost too much. too good. you're so tight and wet around him and with his hands on the decadent curve of your ass and the sight of you laid out before him?

yeah.

he understands.

it doesn't take him long to find a good rhythm, thrusting his hips forward and burning himself deep. he settles on his knees , finding an angle that elicits a moan he likes. "how's that, hm? there?"

you nod with your face pressed against the pillow. the next instruction is a single word and spoken in a quiet exhale. "harder."

pope obliges. adds a little more force behind his hips, grunting low to fight off the blinding pleasure that threatens to coil up his spine. you feel so good. "touch yourself," he orders.

with a little effort, you wiggle your hand beneath you to find your clit and pope groans when he feels you clench around him the moment you do.

he watches with panting breath and sweat beading on the back of his freckled neck as the muscles in your shoulders move, working yourself up, being the perfect girl for him. the sight of you a feast of grandeur that he devours.

"oh, fuck—that's good. that's so good, andy, i—" a soft sound escapes from between your lips, the sweetest, most carnal moan.

pope knows you're close. he knows because he can feel it, the warm, silken walls of your cunt pulsing around his cock. your fingers keep circling your clit, pushing you just a little further towards the precipice of release.

but then—

"i need—oh my god—i need to kiss you. i won't be able to finish unless i kiss you, please—"

it nearly breaks him, in truth. the sight of your pretty pussy swallowing down his cock like it was made to take him while begging for something as innocent as a kiss.

no one has ever wanted him like that before. not like you do.

and it makes him feel…changed, almost. like he's been on one path his whole life and here you stand in the center of it, changing his course.

pope groans, the sound guttural, his hips stilling. he leans forward, chest to your back, and presses his mouth right between your shoulder blades. the small affection is slow and measured and intimate. he counts each of your panting breaths as the oxygen enters and leaves your lungs.

"hey," pope whispers, easing himself out of you. "c'mere." he gently tugs you upwards, offering the strength of his hands as support when you lean back on shaking legs. "turn around for me."

pope leans back on his knees and turns you so your position mirrors his, face to face. he just stays there for a moment, looking at you, into your pretty eyes, finding himself grateful for this night and this stupid party and that stupid song they played that you hate.

the energy that passes between you is…profound. honest and intimate and aware.

"you're so beautiful," he says, and he doesn't even mean to. it just slips out. "come here. come sit on my lap."

with a slow nod you say, "yeah. okay." you shift forward, anchoring yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders.

he supports you with one big hand on the small of your back, and uses the other to hold his cock steady while you sink onto him.

your moans are in perfect unison; a heavy, desperate sigh. when you roll your hips, andrew shakes his head and says, "no. let me."

he thrusts upwards, hard. stretching you open on his length, forehead pressed to yours.

"oh my—fuck, andrew that's—"

"touch yourself," he orders again. "and don't stop until you cum."

white spots cloud his vision the moment you do, feeling you tense up, tightening around him. he presses his forehead to yours and his nose brushes your cheek. each of your breaths become shallower, more ragged, ghosting across his lips and tasting of peppermint and the remnants of your raspberry seltzer. "kiss me," you say again.

he does. kisses you hard, tongue finding yours and claiming your mouth. he thrusts his hips up into you, swallowing your moans and and groaning low.

the thought crosses his mind, for just a second—that he might disappoint. because andrew cody realizes very suddenly that he might be in love with you, might have been in love with you for some time. and having you this close is enough to have his heart beating fast and his cock throbbing inside of you. he's not going to last.

he's not.

and then—

"don't stop," you whimper against his lips. "don't stop, don't stop, i'm gonna—oh god. god, fuck i'm gonna cum—"

"there you go. give it to me," andrew urges.

your nails dig hard into his shoulders. "cum with me. please, andrew—please, please—"

that white-hot coil around his spine snaps. you beg so prettily he can't hold it back, spilling his release deep inside you, sticky webs of cum right up against your cervix. he kisses you again, squeezing you tight against his chest. "you're so perfect," he whispers. "my perfect girl. did so good."

his cock quickly grows sensitive. but he doesn't stop moving below you until your muscles go slack and you collapse in his arms, face pressed into the crook of his neck.

you hum, the sound vibrating against his skin, lips wet with his saliva and yours. and then, so gentle and so quiet, you say, "thank you."

pope strokes his fingers over your spine, tracing each one of your vertebrae. he sets you down against the mattress, over the top of his wrinkled but still perfectly made comforter. he lays beside you, observing for a few moments. eventually, he admits, "i don't want you to see anyone else."

a smirk forms. "yeah? that right?"

"yeah." andrew's hand finds yours, fingers closing around your knuckles. "i figured…y'know. since we're making confessions tonight."

you laugh, the sound light and airy. but then silence settles and it feels…heavy. real. "okay," you say.

a crease forms between his brows. "okay?"

"i won't see anyone else."

carefully, almost experimentally, andrew leans forward. his mouth finds yours, lips moving like it's his first time kissing a woman.

he feels you smile and a moment later you ask, "does this make me your girl?"

and he thinks yeah. of course it does. you've been his girl far longer than he'd realized.

"yeah." andrew nods. "my special girl."

thank you for reading, i love you!!!

"You don’t get it, do you?" you taunted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "All this time, and you still haven’t caught on to what I’m really after."

Batman stepped closer, his boots making barely a sound against the wet concrete. His presence alone could suffocate. "Enlighten me," his voice was low, a dangerous growl that vibrated through the alley.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s not Gotham I want, Bruce. It’s you. All this chaos—every crime, every carefully crafted plan—was to get you here. To make you see that your precious city isn’t what matters.”

His expression remained unreadable, but his silence spoke volumes. You reveled in it, believing you had finally pushed him to the edge, but his response came cold and calculated, cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You’re not worth the effort."

The words hit harder than any blow he had ever dealt you. His tone was sharp, devoid of any emotion, as if you were a mere speck of dust on his cape, easily brushed aside.

You scoffed, though the sting of his words simmered beneath your bravado. “Not worth the effort, huh? You sure don’t act like it, chasing me around this city for months.”

“That’s because I don’t have a choice,” he replied coolly, stepping closer until he was directly in front of you, looming over you like the dark knight he was. “Gotham needs protecting, even from nuisances like you.”

The word “nuisance” made your teeth grit. For all your genius, all your effort, to him you were nothing more than a fleeting annoyance. You had spent months crafting a web of deception, challenging him at every turn, and he still saw you as insignificant. Just a piece in the bigger game he played, but never a real threat.

But something in his eyes betrayed him—a flicker of something deeper, something that wasn’t all indifference. You’d been dancing this dangerous waltz with Bruce Wayne long enough to see it. He wasn’t immune to you. You had gotten under his skin, even if he would never admit it.

“You and I aren’t so different, Bruce,” you whispered, stepping forward, closing the distance between you. “We both care about Gotham in our own way. We both have our masks.”

He narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching ever so slightly, but he didn’t move as you leaned in, your voice low and tempting. “You can pretend all you want, but I know I matter more than you’re willing to admit. Why else would you be here?”

For a moment, the rain and city seemed to fade, leaving only the weight of unspoken tension between you. But then, in typical Batman fashion, he shattered the illusion.

“You’re wrong.” His voice was hard, final. “This isn’t about you. It never was.”

Before you could respond, he turned, his cape swirling behind him as he melted into the shadows, leaving you standing in the rain, watching him disappear into the night.

The echo of his words lingered, and for the first time in a long time, you wondered if you had miscalculated. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the player in his game—you were just another obstacle. Another distraction he had overcome.

But that didn’t mean the game was over.

With a defiant smirk, you wiped the rain from your face and disappeared into the dark streets of Gotham, your mind already working on your next move.

- he couldn’t imagine her being bald, shaved. bikini waxes just wasn’t her style. especially from the little peeks that he’s seen, she wants at least some down there and he is so eager to look at more

- he compliments those low rise jeans, wants to see if the innocent comments he makes about them has her wear them more often - and it does. she wears them almost all week, stretching and leaning back, adjusting them with a slight tug and a blush so that they’re back to sit properly at her waist and not dragging down

- clark grows some balls the more hungry he gets to look at her bush. he calls her pretty, he sniffs her hair and informs her she always smells so, so good that he loves taking a deep breath whenever he’s around her. she blushes and grins, shy while she says he doesn’t smell so bad himself either. and that was enough for clark. he could flirt all day. he couldn’t get enough of her thighs in those jeans, her hips, her scent, her tops, her bushy hairs poking out so subtly that only careful, wide observant eyes can see

- such as clark’s. because his attention is a hundred percent on her. on her outfits, on her jokes, on her body hair. it gets to a point that’s freakishly obsessive, but he plays it cool while he can with a rough hand on his dick at home, closing his eyes, tilting his head back, calling out her name and picturing that hairy perfect pussy on his mouth then bunny hopping on his dick. it makes him nut every single time.

. . .

you're not entirely sure why he never takes it farther than giving you your first orgasm. he'll use his fingers or his tongue or both, and then roll you over to go to sleep once you've come down from the high of pleasure he wrings out from you. and it's not like he's not turned on, you know that for a fact because he's always rock hard by the time he tells you to get some sleep. sadly enough, he's only let you use your mouth on him twice :(

unfortunately, you're always just a bit too floaty from your release to ever really fight him on it, but tonight you are determined to get to round two.

" 'm so close andy- please d-don't stop-!" is what you're whining against pope's lips as he lays next to you in bed. him only in his boxers and you only in your panties that are pulled to the side, as two of his thick fingers rub deep inside you while his thumb firmly circles your clit. your grip on his curls is probably painful, but he hasn't complained, he even groans a little when you yank them as you hike your leg higher up his waist to spread yourself even further for him.

the shlick shlick sounds of pope's fingers pumping into you paired with his warm, muscular frame that holds you close, has your body lock up tight in anticipation. one more swipe of his tongue against yours and the feeling explodes into white hot tremors that shake through you, from your spinning head to your flexing toes. "andrew andrew andrew", is all that sounds from you as you fall apart for him.

when you settle back into your body, pope gently removes his fingers that sparkle with your release then places a soft kiss to your nose. "so pretty. night sweetheart." his murmured words almost have you complying before you remember the task at hand. you follow when he rolls to lay on his back, crawling on him until you're straddling his tree trunk waist.

you rest your hands on his bare chest and whimper when you feel his hard on beneath you. " 'm not tired andy... lets keep going." pope blinks up at you for a second before his rugged face furrows in what looks like confusion. "but if we kept going… you'd have to— i don't want you to fake it for me."

um- what? your face mirrors his in perplexity now. "why- why would i have to fake it?" rolling your hips against the bulge in his boxers confirms that you definitely wouldn't have to fake any praise regarding how big he is.

pope stares at you as if this is some kind of test you're giving him, his large hands slide up and down your waist as his tone goes slightly cautious. "because you just finished and you need time before… you know. you can do it again." knowing your boyfriend and his inability to take anything lightly, you bite back your giggle at his words. "andy…" you explain slowly, carefully, "that's only true for men, not women."

he looks almost astonished, "what? r-really?" you nod in a gentle confirmation, no point in making him feel bad for not knowing something he clearly was never taught. you lean down to place tender kisses to his face. "you can make me feel good over and over again and i'll be able to finish. as many times as you want." pope's cheeks blush beneath your lips, grinding his hips up into yours enough to have both of you inhale sharply. "so… so i could use my mouth on you now?"

you hum in response, and even though the thought has your thighs squeeze at his waist, you're interested in something else. you both watch as you trace one of your fingers down his panting chest, then across each ridge of abs until you reach his waist band. "or…" you slowly slide your finger back an forth just beneath the fabric as you kiss his neck, "we could have sex."

his breath catches, swallowing once before saying, "you want to?" you're squirming on top of him in anticipation, words coming out all whiney but you don't even care. "so badly andy. need you inside me." instantly, pope is flipping you over until he's pressed on top of you, his lips moving against yours and his hand pulling off your panties is confirmation enough.

after he slides off his boxers, mutters one more, "you sure?", the two of you are moaning in between kisses as he pushes inside you, only starts to slide in and out of you after a minute of letting you adjust to his size.

already sensitive and vulnerable from your first orgasm, it's almost embarrassing how quickly you feel another one start to build when you feel pope's thick cock threaten to split you in half. it's a mess of tangled sweaty limbs, slow sensual strokes, and hushed "you f-feel s'good"'s, "you were made for me"'s that have you hiccuping and clawing at pope's muscular back.

he's intently watching your face as he makes love to you, tracking what angle makes you moan, what speed makes you twitch and what location of his kisses has you clench around him.

with his bottom lip tucked over his teeth in concentration, he hitches your leg higher up your waist to get even deeper inside you, causing his coarse hair at the base of his length to rut against your sensitive clit, and the body tingling pleasure rises uncontrollably.

your hands tighten at the nape of pope's neck and your legs shake around his waist as you whimper "gonna-gonna come andy! feels so- gonna- oh andy-!" he kisses you as you tighten and cry out his name, not changing his pace or the way he holds you at all in order to intensify your release. only when you regain some brain power do you realize he's still moving inside you.

his freckled face is squeezed impossibly tight, abs contracting with restraint, clearly trying not to come yet. "andy..?" you rub your thumb on his cheekbone and his eyes flutter open, hips faltering as he looks down at you. you peck at his lips. "you can come inside me. i wanna feel you."

pope quickly shakes his head as you both groan at a particularly deep thrust. "not yet. want-want you to gimme another one." your eyes widen at his raspy words when you realize what he means.

there's no time to argue as pope abruptly pulls out and flips you over, your yelp at the upwards yank of your hips quickly morphs into a moan as he easily thrusts back into your sopping cunt. "ffuuuucckk" is all he groans before starting to pound into you. a silent scream graces your lips as his cock stretches your soft walls relentlessly, keeping you lightheaded and tingly all over as you're filled by him completely.

his tight grip on your shoulder keeps you compliant for each powerful thrust, and you can barely hear your shaky moans over the slapping of his hips against your ass. pope's huffing and puffing behind you, desperately trying to fend off his own orgasm.

"c'mon. jus want one more sweetheart. p-please. give it ta'me." he grits out above your whines.

pope uses one strong hand at the base of your neck to press you into the mattress, and brings the other to roll your clit in between two chubby fingers. the angle has his his fat mushroomy tip rubbing against the softest part of you over and over and— "oh my fucking god andy im gonna-!"

your eyes roll back and you sob beneath him, not being able comprehend anything in your empty brain past the heat overtaking you and the stars twinkling behind your teary eyes. you're only vaguely aware and half conscious as the warmth of his come fills your fluttering pussy.

pope collapsing on top of you sobers you slightly, but not enough to do anything other than nod with a lopsided smile when he rolls you back over and asks "you okay?" as he gently licks up your tears.

your glazed over eyes flutter shut as he kisses you softly. your lips, then cheek… neck… breasts… stomach then— "think you can gimme another?" he rasps by the time he reaches your spread thighs and settles in between them with a hungry look on his flushed face.

maybe you shouldn't have told pope about the different refractory periods between men and women.

"I know you wanna cum, angel." He coos, pawing at the supple skin of your hips and dragging you closer until you’re making a puddle on his chest. "But I wanna taste you when you do."

You're rising slightly on trembling knees when you look at him through bleary vision; the precipice of an orgasm clouding your gaze and fucking with your head.

There's a darkness that washes over Andrew's eyes when he shuffles down the bed slightly, when his head rests against the pillows instead of the headboard, when your cunt is hovering just inches over his face instead of his chest.

He's just so fucking hungry for you. A lust that blows his pupils black and has your blood burning hot beneath your skin.

Pope reaches for your ass, grabbing sensual handfuls and kneading once, twice, before finding your hips again.

"Yeah?" You whisper, and although your voice is hoarse from moans and cries, there's an undeniable twinge of excitment laced within it.

"Yeah. Come on, baby. Sit on my face, let me taste you."

You don't need much more convincing to let him guide you down to his face, his head lifting to close the distance as his hot tongue wipes through the strings of your arousal.

A gasp slips from the back of your throat when he swirls his tongue around your entrance, when he dips it inside and massages it against that part just before your g-spot.

Pope can't help but whimper into your pussy, the taste of you so intoxicating he doesn't know how he'll ever function again without it staining his tongue every moment of every day.

His grip on your hips tightens and he's pulling you closer until his head is sinking into the pillows and your cunt is suffocating him entirely. He doesn't know why he's never suggested this before, why he's never thought of it.

The sounds of your desperate whines above go straight to his aching cock, the rocking of your hips against his mouth enough to have him releasing a hand on you in search of himself.

He wraps a fist around his length with a tight grip when your clit rubs against his nose and you're panting words of filth and praise. Pope doesn't think he's ever found something more erotic in his life than this moment.

His fist begins to move, pumping in quick successions—needy and desperate and mirroring the pace of your rolling hips. His stubble is scratching at your inner thighs, no doubt going to leave a burn but all you can do is tangle your fingers in his curls and tug.

"Oh, fuck. Baby, don't stop. I'm so close, Andy...so fucking close, please..."

The beg lands heavy in his balls, has his entire body stiffening. It's a split second decision he makes to abandon your needy little hole and wrap his lips around your puffy clit instead. A wise one, by the sound of your fucked out cries and trembling body above.

He's going to cum at the taste of your own release filling his mouth and Andrew holds not one ounce of shame about it. He rubs the flat of his tongue against your nub quickly, sucking on the hood at the same time and suddenly, all you can do it make choked noises and scratch helplessly at his scalp.

Andrew knows you're cumming because you're gushing into his mouth and all over his face; sobbing out his name and how much you love him and just how fucking good he makes you feel.

It's an intense mixture of it all that has his cock twitching and balls tightening until he's spurting hot ribbons of cum all over his hand and abdomen.

And with the overwhelming release that seizes his lungs, Andrew finally realizes it's been about three and a half minutes since he heaved a full enough breath.

But he's gentle when he releases his cock and slowly eases you off his face to sit on his chest again, lungs gulping down air while you do the same. He keeps his palms on your waist, can tell by the sticky sheen on your skin and daze in your eyes that you're stuggling to keep yourself up right.

It's bleary when you blink down at the literal man of your dreams, when the golden glow of the nightstand lamp glistens against his cum-soaked face.

The sight alone has your cunt quivering.

"Jesus Christ, Andrew." You pant through shallow breaths. "Where did that come from?"

He has the audacity to look sheepish, but doesn't divulge that it's now his new favorite position. “Dunno, but I wish we'd done that sooner."

His reply pulls a laugh from deep in your chest, the sound causing his heart to soar as his cock softens to something limp and heavy against his thigh. He doesn't think he'll ever tire of the sound of your happiness.

You reach out for his hand, finding something sticky when you meet his skin and he pulls away quickly, catching his mistake with a grimace while you fight the smile at the fact that he got himself off to eating you out.

"We need to shower."

You could've predicted that—his post-nut clarity, if you will. As soon as the high of his orgasm begins to mellow, he's always quickly reminded of how sticky and sweaty your bodies have become.

He's also overwhelmed that with every inhale, all he can do it smell the scent of your pussy that's seeping into his pours.

The rain was pounding on the windows as you stirred the sauce in with the pasta. Jack hummed on the other side of the kitchen. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander over his figure as he pulled plates out of the cupboards and took a large Tupperware container out from one of his drawers. The broad line of his shoulders, his arms and how they flexed with every movement.

He had been begging and craving your dish since the Thanksgiving potluck the ED had hosted. He had twirled his fork, collecting as much of it as he could before scarfing it down. Cheeks full of pasta, he had closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

“This…” he had said, pointing the fork at you. “You have to teach me how to make this.” 

Fast forward a month or so, and here you were, in his kitchen cooking away.

“Okay, I just need to plate this and we’re all set,” you told him, reaching for the plates in his hands. 

Your fingers grazed his, warm against the porcelain. Neither of you pulled away immediately. The blood in your veins pumped just a little faster as you looked up, catching the heavy, deliberate way his dark eyes tracked down to your lips before sliding back up to meet your gaze.

You put a generous amount of pasta in your bowls, handing them back to Jack as he set them on the counter.

“Maybe if your career as a desk clerk doesn’t pan out, you should become a chef,” he said, shoving a fork into the mountain of pasta.

“I’ll make sure to have you test out all of my new dishes when I do,” you giggled.

You placed the blender cup with the extra sauce on the corner of the counter, moving to grab another Tupperware container from where you saw Jack grab one. Swirling around, you reached for the blender cup.

Your fingers glided into the handle, tightening around the plastic before picking it up. The plastic snapped.

The cup fell to the ground, the sauce spilling from it, splattering over the tile, soaking straight through your socks and jeans.

“Shit, Abbott—” you said as you tried to move. The mess seemed to rage with a sudden vengeance as it decided to bring you down, sweeping your feet out from under you. You landed with a thud, before slipping again as you tried to scramble up, warm sauce coating the ends of your hair and the back of your shirt.

“Oh my god,” Jack breathed, rushing toward you. He didn't see the slick tile in time, his socks losing traction as he slid down to join you on the floor, getting equally covered in the mess.

His prosthetic hit the tile with a heavy, metallic  thunk as he landed beside you.

There was a beat of stunned silence as you locked eyes, both of you breathing heavily, covered in mess. His mouth hung open in shock, his bottom lip twitching before a loud, howling laugh burst from his chest. The sound was so infectious it pulled a breathless laugh from your throat, too.

“Ugh, okay,” Jack wheezed, unbuckling the suspension sleeve of his leg and setting the damp prosthetic aside so he could shift onto his good knee. He rubbed his fingers together looking at the green sauce on his hands. “I’ll get you a change of clothes and you can use the guest bathroom down the hall. There’s fresh towels and anything you need in the cupboard.”

You nodded, slowly picking yourself off the slick tile and placing the broken cup in the sink.

You made your way past the ruined kitchen, pulling off your soaked socks before inching toward the bathroom.

The hot water easily washed the coriander sauce out of your hair and off your skin. You lathered yourself with Abbott’s fancy soap, breathing in its perfume. You rinsed off, stepping out to wrap the fluffy guest towel around you. You turned in the bathroom before you realized: the clothes – you never went to grab them.

Tucking the edge of the towel tighter over your chest, you padded down the hallway, knocking at Jack’s door before peeking your head in.

“Jack?” you called out, voice hesitant. “Can I quickly come in? I forgot to grab your clothes.”

“Yeah, come in.” His voice came through the door, thick and quiet.

He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, having already washed up himself. His carbon-fiber prosthetic rested securely against the nightstand, leaving the bare, smooth skin of his right leg ending just below the knee exposed in the dim light. There was a towel bunched up in his hands as he pressed it into his curls. He was wearing nothing but a dark t-shirt and boxers, his back turned to you as he dried off. The bare skin of his legs and the fabric hanging on his frame stopped the breath right in your throat.

Set out neatly on the mattress right beside him was a folded hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

He lowered the towel, eyes sweeping over you. He took in your bare shoulders, damp hair, the lone bead of water still clinging to your exposed skin. The short towel was just barely covering you.

Your eyes shifted down toward the floor as you turned your back to him, a heat erupting in your chest. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your forgotten clothes, damp hands shaking ever so slightly as you pulled them off the bed.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. It pounded as Jack shifted closer, heat radiating from his chest. You were facing away from him, his warmth spreading slowly over the skin of your exposed back as he anchored himself behind you.

The want, the need between you had always been there. Untouched, unspoken as you danced around each other, too afraid to say anything.

His breath trailed down your back as he moved even closer. He reached out, his thumb dragging over your arm, collecting the droplets of water left behind by the towel.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, his words sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed to the slope of your neck and shoulder. They pulled a sigh from your mouth as you relented, leaning back into Jack’s chest. Your head lulled to the side, giving him more space to map out your skin.

“Jack,” you breathed, fingers releasing the clothes and letting them drop to the floor. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the short towel wrapped around you, the only fragile thing separating you from Jack, who was wearing nothing but a dark t-shirt and boxers.

You turned, feeling your pulse thrumming in your cheeks. You were nose to nose. From this distance, you could see everything. His smile lines, the freckles that adorned his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

His fingers reached up to card gently through your hair, stopping at the crown to angle your head up slightly. His nose trailed up your cheek, only stopping when his lips were hovering just in front of yours. He lingered there for a moment, tongue darting out experimentally as if trying to test you. Taste you.

The anticipation pushed you toward him, your mouth meeting his. Your arms snaked around his neck as his hands slid down to your waist, shifting you back onto the center of the bed as you felt the towel slip loose around you. The air was cold, goosebumps erupting across your skin.

He hovered over you, hands digging into the mattress around your head. His mouth trailed down between the valley of your breasts before wrapping his lips around one sensitive peak. You gasped at the feeling, fingers snaking into his salt and pepper hair.

Your knees pulled up, caging him against you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hips stuttered forward and suddenly you could feel all of him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

“Shit—” you croaked as Jack turned you both over, your hips landing directly on top of his. You straddled his hips, his cock pulsating in his underwear, right under you. A noise ripped out of your throat at the sensation, stilling Jack temporarily.

His hands grasped firmly onto your hips, a low whine escaping his throat as he dragged you over his hardened length. Pre-cum began to seep through the thin fabric as he guided your movements. You swiveled your hips, your clit catching lightly over the head of his tip.

You continued shifting, dragging your aching core over his swollen cock. You found purchase on his pecs, fingers digging slightly into the firm muscle there before hooking under the hem of his dark t-shirt. He raises his arms without hesitation, letting you pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, leaving his chest bare and warm beneath your hands. One of Jack’s hands wandered up, finding the plush skin of your breast. 

He squeezed first, already addicted to the feel of it in his palm, before tweaking the eager peak between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he whispered, captivated by your figure rutting up against him. Desperate, hungry for release.

“I need you, Jack,” you begged, craving the feel of him inside you. You’d made a mess, your juices beginning to mix with his as you rocked and rocked and rock. His hands dropped down to your thighs at your words.

He tsked lightly, fingers flexing and pushing your legs the tiniest bit wider, a dark smirk catching his lips.

“You look so pretty like this, all needy for me.”

You could feel yourself tumbling toward release, your breathing staggering as you did. 

“Jack, please,” you cried, chin rolling down to press to your own chest. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt it.

Your cunt squeezed around nothing as the coil in the pit of your stomach snapped, a sharp breath escaping you, as if you’d been holding it the whole time.

Jack rocked you slowly, bringing you down from the high. “That’s it, baby, that’s it.”

You collapsed on his chest, nosing his cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to your jaw. Your lungs heaved, heart drumming right on the surface of your skin.

“That’s my good girl.” The comment made you chuckle as you pressed your lips to Jack’s freckled chest.

You met his eyes, dark once again after your moment of release. You rolled off him and he rose from the bed, pulling his boxers off. Your eyes wandered over his back as if trying to count the constellations that were mapped there, watching as the muscles rippled just under the skin.

He crawled back to you, his lips leaving a hot trail up your body. He shuffled you over so you were sitting up slightly against the plush pillows of his bed. Your hands drifted up, over his shoulders and around his neck before settling on his jaw to pull him into a kiss.

He licked into your mouth, a faint taste of toothpaste on his tongue. One of your hands snaked down, reaching for him as a hiss fell from his lips. It turned into a moan as you pumped your hand and he stilled in your embrace, paralyzed by the pleasure.

His breathing was heavy as he gasped into your mouth. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stalling your movements.

“Wanna feel you now,” he whispered, pulling one of your legs up by the knee before tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit.

His hips began to press toward yours, cock stretching you open as he eased in. A shared gasp escaped you both as he filled you to the hilt.

“Baby, you feel s'good...” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled out almost all the way before plunging back into you, letting out a low groan.

You squeezed Jack’s arms, fingernails digging into his skin as he let out a quiet hiss through his teeth.

His hips continued to roll against yours at a steady pace, his hands wandering from your pebbled nipples to the pearl of your clit. You arched against him as he pressed down, circling it tenderly. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as your tongues tangled together.

The gentle circling of his thumb sent heat straight through you, the rhythmic thrusting faltering momentarily. You cried out, eyes squeezing shut as he pulled back only to slam back into you, hard.

“Look at me,” he breathed, forcing your eyes open. He panted, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest. He pressed your knees up higher, driving deeper into you. A loud gasp tore from you both as he hit that spot over and over.

There was the coil again, twisting and twisting. It felt sharper, hotter. It threatened your control, almost slipping through your fingers.

“Jack, I—” you tried to call out before he stopped you.

“I know, baby. I know.” He was almost there, his hips growing erratic, almost completely overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Just let go.”

With a gasp, your resolve snapped. You were shaking in his arms, thighs trembling as he kept thrusting.

“Come on, baby,” you whined, fingers now digging into his hips. “Give it to me.” And he did, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as he pressed his lips to yours. He trembled, a moan vibrating on your tongue. You could feel his heartbeat where your hand rested on his neck and his warmth as it began to trickle out of your drenched cunt.

The long night was finally giving way to day, the sun just barely peeking its head over the horizon. It was somewhere around 5AM–in that in-between post-3AM insanity, but pre-morning rush lull. The emergency department was precariously balanced on a knife's edge, one minor inconvenience, or trauma, from tipping back into full on chaos. You were almost at the finish line, the end in sight so long as nothing catastrophic happened.

As it stood, the night had been rough enough–mainly due to the sheer volume of patients you'd seen over the past 11 hours. Food poisoning from a family reunion rolled in shortly after the shift began, followed by alcohol poisoning from a bachelorette party, then a drunken bar fight that continued into the ER, where security had to separate two grown men who were arguing over which sports team had the better logo.

Barely an hour ago, three codes simultaneously racked the department, tying up almost every doctor and nurse and leaving the department in a bit of a frenzy. Two of the codes resolved themselves fairly quickly, but the one you were working on, a pediatric cardiac arrest, lasted nearly two hours. All three patients survived, thankfully, but you were still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your heart still ticking a beat too fast.

The supply closet was a welcome reprieve from the endless chatter and beeping of the ED, the mundane task of restocking crash carts a soothing balm to your overworked mind and muscles. You were still catching your breath as you assessed the carts, taking note of what needed to be refilled and what was already well stocked.

Boots scuffed across the linoleum in the hallway beyond, eventually stopping at the open door. A second later the metallic click of the latch rang through the small closet as the door closed.

You were plucking vials of epinephrine off the shelf in front of you when a familiar presence makes itself at home at your back, large hands falling to your hips with a quick squeeze. A fond smile crossed your lips and you eased into your boyfriend's warm embrace, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

"You did good back there," Jack said, pressing a kiss to your temple and smoothing his hands up and down your sides. His hands were warm, even through your scrubs and undershirt, and you could already feel your heart rate slowing, syncing in time with his.

"So did you, that little girl's lucky she had such a good doctor working on her," you said, turning around in his hold and leaning back against the shelving unit. Every time you saw Jack felt like the first, cheeks heating and butterflies erupting at the sight of him. His hazel eyes were tired, but no less beautiful than they always were; the lines around his eyes a little more pronounced than usual, the night taking its toll in the contours of his face.

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin, tracing the sun-worn lines along his neck, the freckles dotted between them creating the most beautiful constellations. It was hard to believe sometimes that you called this man yours, that he looked at you with such reverence and adoration.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, "Which reminds me, we have a serious problem," you said, schooling your face into a serious expression, eyes hard and lips slightly down turned.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?" he asked with a wry smile, knowing that he was going to be drawn into one of your shenanigans again. Not that he minded, he usually benefited from them. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, slow and sweet, his nose brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

You relented for a moment, sinking into the kiss. Your nails scratched through the curls at the base of his neck eliciting a purr-like noise from him. You grinned into the kiss then pushed him back slightly before he could get carried away.

Fixing him with a stern glare, you sighed exaggeratedly, "You're too sexy when you're in doctor mode."

He barked out a laugh that echoed loudly in the too quiet closet and shook his head at you, "That's your serious problem?"

"Yes, I'm serious! It's a problem! I can't be ogling my doctor when I'm supposed to be taking care of patients. It's a real liability issue, could be dangerous for patient care," you said, really trying to sell this problem of yours.

And it was true that he was so fucking hot when he was in the zone, calling out orders, laying out treatment plans–hell, even just watching him teach med students, with that patient but firm tone, correcting where necessary and praising when appropriate, had wetness pooling between your thighs.

The sheer competence in bringing a patient back from the brink of death was astounding. The look he got after a patient was stabilized–the pride, the relief, the hint of fear that crossed his face was breathtaking. It took everything in you some days not to drag him out of the trauma bay and have your way with him. The demons won out the one time he came in with his SWAT team, the combination of seeing him in uniform and the terror of knowing he was shot at commingled in your core and you were on your knees in this very closet in a matter of minutes, sucking the life out of his cock.

But it would never really compromise your ability to care for patients–you both knew that. You were one of the best damn nurses in the entire hospital, and Jack would stake his medical license on your ability to work through damn near any condition. You were his right hand for a reason–and it had nothing to do with your romantic relationship. But it was fun to play sometimes, to rile him up in the way only you could.

"Okay, okay," he said, still laughing, "How do you propose we solve this very, very serious problem?"

You tapped your finger on your chin, taking your time in 'thinking' of a solution.

"Mmm, I was thinking maybe the sexy doctor could make a house call. Y'know, give me a little one-on-one time, get it out of my system. I've been aching real bad, too, think maybe he should take a look," you said finally, peeking up at him from beneath your lashes and biting your lip.

His eyes darkened a fraction, and he stepped forward, closing the little distance that was between you and pressing your front flush to his chest. Goosebumps prickled up and down your arms, warmth spreading through your body and radiating down to your core. You whimpered softly as he shifted his weight, his crotch unintentionally brushing against your cunt.

His voice was low and rough when he spoke, "Oh yeah? Well we can't have that, can we? Where're you aching, baby? Show me."

You swallowed, breath coming out ragged, "Well, Dr. Abbot, it started here," you said, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your lips. His thumb rested on your bottom lip, and he brushed over it lightly before tugging it down, your mouth parting with it. He pressed forward, thumb briefly running along the line of your bottom teeth before settling on your tongue, pushing down gently.

You moaned at the salty taste of his skin, mouth widening and saliva pooling in your mouth, dribbling out of the corners of your mouth at the intrusion. Jack's eyes were trained on the sight, the irises of his eyes almost completely obscured by his blown pupils.

"Fuck, honey, you just love having your mouth filled, don't you?" he asked, pushing his thumb in further until he hit the back of your throat, muscles contracting around the digit, "Doesn't matter if it's my cock or my fingers, just need something to keep that pretty little mouth full, huh?"

You nodded and whimpered around him pitifully, unable to do much more.

He kept his thumb there for another minute, just watching the way your tongue twitched, the rivulets of spit drooling from your lips.

When he finally removed it, his thumb and your chin were thoroughly spit-slick. He wiped at the corners of your mouth, gathering the spit there, then brought the digit up to his lips and sucked it clean.

"Y'taste so good, baby, can't help myself," he said with a devious grin, "where else're you achin'?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your words coming out stuttery, "m' a-aching pretty bad here, t-too, Dr. Abbot," you said, dragging his hand down to your neck, where it sat loosely around your throat. Your fingers curled lightly around his, applying the smallest amount of pressure–just enough to make your breath hitch.

He tightened his grip a fraction more, then tilted your neck to the side, exposing the soft skin there. His other hand pulled your scrub top and undershirt to the side, and his lips latched onto the curve of your neck, biting and sucking at the flesh.

You gasped, hand flying up to bury itself in his hair. Your eyes fluttered closed as little whines and whimpers escaped your lips.

"So sensitive," he whispered against your neck, laving his tongue over the mark he made once more before pulling back and giving you an expectant look. What else?

Dazed and little floaty, you continued guiding his hand down until it cupped your breast. His other hand moved to your other breast, and squeezed the flesh between his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, though they were buried under layers of scrubs, undershirt, and bra. You could feel the barest hint of pressure where he circled them, enough that they hardened into peaks, taut against your bra.

You moaned and arched into his palms, wishing you could feel the roughness of them against your bare skin.

He chuckled at your desperation, pinning you back against the shelves. One hand remained on your breast, while the other grasped your chin, tilting it up to look him in the eye, "Anywhere else?"

You bit your lip and nodded, sliding the hand on your breast down your body and under the waistband of your scrubs and panties, until his hand was cupping your bare mound, "This is where it aches the most."

His eyes didn't leave yours as his fingers parted your folds, sliding through them with ease. A half-feral groan ripped through his chest, his forehead pressing against yours. His fingers just barely brushed over your clit before sliding back down to your entrance.

You whined and bucked your hips against him, searching for something to grind against.

"Oh, baby," he said, "You really are aching, aren't you? Your pussy's soaking wet and I haven't even done anything."

The tips of his fingers breached your entrance and sat there, unmoving–just the tease of his thick fingers filling your cunt.

"Please, Dr. Abbot, need you to take care of me," you whined, rolling your hips forward, trying to force his fingers deeper.

"And maybe if you're lucky, if you alleviate my aches, I'll sit on your cock later," you said, using all the bravado you could muster up–which, admittedly, wasn't much. You were too far gone, too needy for him to act like you didn't want him just as much as he wanted you.

Jack raised his eyebrow, a dark laugh falling from his lips, "If I'm lucky? Baby, I distinctly remember you beggin' for my cock just the other night," he said, pushing his fingers to the second knuckle and curling them, "had you cryin' on the bed, whining for Jackie's big, fat cock to fill your cute little pussy up, didn't I?"

Your cheeks heated at the memory, the sound of your pathetic mewls and gasps echoing in your ears as you did, indeed, beg for his cock. You slapped a hand over your mouth to avoid those same sounds from spilling out now, as Jack's fingers pushed in to the hilt, the heel of his hand settling on your aching, puffy clit.

His fingers hooked against that soft, spongey spot that had sparks exploding through your body. Your thighs trembled around his hand and your hips ground clumsily against his hand.

"Well, I guess the tables have turned," is all you can come up with as he stroked that spot relentlessly. Jack knew your body like the back of his hand, knew just the right pressure and motions to get you to the finish line in no time. He preferred to take his time, but he never turned down the opportunity to make you cum hard and fast.

Your eyes closed, your body on autopilot as it chased release. The waves were cresting, your orgasm within reach. Just a few more thrusts, a few more rolls of your hips and you would be there.

He sighed, shaking his head at you, "You know, I probably shouldn't make you cum before I've done a proper examination. Can never be too careful about your health, baby," he said, removing his fingers from your pussy before your brain could catch up.

Your eyes shot open, chest heaving as your orgasm receded. A high pitched whine escaped you, "no no, please, Jack, pleeease," you said, gripping his wrist and trying to pull it back toward your cunt to no avail.

You looked up at him with wet eyes, frustrated tears pricking the corner of your eyes, "you're mean," you pouted.

"Shh, sweetheart, trust me, I'm a doctor. We'll get you all sorted out at our appointment later, yeah?"

Your brows furrowed at that, your mind still a little hazy. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, but before you can ask it, he's reaching up for something on the shelf above you, body pressing impossibly close to yours in the process. A second later he's pushing a hospital gown into your hands.

You're still confused, the gown doing little to illuminate his meaning.

"What's the look for, sweetheart? You started this game, don't tell me you want to stop now?" he said with an evil gleam in his eye, "Dr. Abbot will see you for a very, very thorough exam after shift."

There was a muffled commotion outside the door, no doubt another trauma rolling through–no doubt requiring Jack's attention.

"Duty calls, baby, see you out there," he said, giving you one last peck on the lips before he's gone.

The end of shift comes quicker than you anticipated, between a new batch of traumas rolling in and your standard caseload of patients taking up your attention.

You were waiting at central, bag slung over your shoulder, when Jack approached, looking apologetic.

"I think I'm gonna be a little longer, I just want to make sure Emily gets up to peds sooner rather than later. Shouldn't be too long," he said, "I'm sorry, baby."

"No worries, I'll hang around. Mr. Hauser's IV needs to be changed in 20 minutes anyway," you said, a yawn sneaking out halfway through.

He shook his head, "Nah, you don't need to wait around for me, and Lena'll bite my head off if I keep working her nurses overtime," he said, laughing a little nervously, recalling the last time he asked a few nurses to stay late, "Day shift's got it covered. Go home and shower, get something to eat."

"Plus," he said, slipping his finger under the chain of your necklace and tugging you closer, "I want you on my bed, in nothing but that gown when I get home."

You nodded and whispered lowly, "Yes, Dr. Abbot."

You took your time in the shower, the hot water easing the persistent ache in your muscles. After drying off and lotioning your body you slipped into a lacy pair of panties–Jack's favorite, the back cut high enough that your cheeks were practically bare, with a little bow in the center.

You dug around for the gown you'd snuck into your bag, pulling it out and holding it out in front of you. You gnawed on your lip as you considered it. Your intention hadn't been to enter into a full-fledge role play scenario, but you couldn't deny the way your tummy swirled in anticipation.

You slipped the gown over your head, the polyester feeling rough and scratchy against your skin. You left the back untied for easy access–you assumed you wouldn't be wearing it for long, anyways–then sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands and awaiting Jack's arrival.

You didn't have to wait long for him. About 10 minutes after you've settled on the bed, the door to your bedroom opened, and Jack came strolling through. His hair was damp, and he'd changed out of his scrubs, now wearing a tight black shirt and cargo pants. He stopped at the dresser and pulled out a fresh scrub top, pulling it over his head before turning to address you.

"Good morning, miss, I'm Dr. Abbot. I hear you've been having some aches, is that correct?" he asked, dragging the upholstered chair from your vanity over to the bed and sitting down. He folded his hands between his knees, fixing you with an assessing stare as he waited for you to respond–the picture of professionalism.

"Oh, yes, Dr. Abbot, I've been aching really bad," you said, putting on a whiny affect. And it wasn't untrue, your cunt had been aching since your release was denied two hours ago, your clit throbbing for attention.

"Yeah? Well let's try to fix that, huh? I might have to use some… unconventional methods, but I think we can get you right as rain in no time," he said, hooking his stethoscope in his ears, "I'm going to start with listening to your heart, okay?"

You recoiled before he could reach you, "You are not using that on me. God knows what's on it," you said, nose wrinkling at the thought of the dirty hospital germs that probably coated the stethoscope.

He sighed, breaking character for a minute, "This is my backup, the one that's been sitting untouched in it's case for over a year. That okay?"

His voice was low and reassuring, instantly setting you at ease. You relaxed a bit and nodded.

He tugged your sleeves down, the gown falling around your hips and leaving your chest exposed. One hand settled on your ribs, right under your breast, while the other held the chest piece in place on the left side of your chest. You gasped as the chest piece made contact with your skin, the cold metal causing goosebumps prickle up your arms.

Jack murmured a quick apology before focusing on the sound of your heart. The hand not holding the chest piece stroked the underside your your breast, so close to your aching nipple without actually touching it.

"Your heart rate is elevated. You nervous?" he asked, a suppressed smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"A-a little, I've just never had a doctor be so… hands on," you played along, biting your lip shyly.

He titled your head up, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, "There's no need to be nervous, honey, I'm gonna take real good care of you," he said, brushing your bottom lip softly.

"Okay, I trust you, Dr. Abbot," you whispered, breath catching as his grip tightened on your chin.

"That's it, that's my good girl," he said, his hungry gaze belying his professional demeanor. He was just as affected as you were, but he was committed to this act.

He started moving the chest piece down your chest until it covered your nipple, the pebbled flesh perking up at the coolness of the metal.

"Good, good, you're so responsive," he said, eyes focused on the hardening bud. Then he flipped the chest piece to the smaller side and traced it around your nipple in slow circles. His thumb flicked over your other nipple, then rolled and pinched it between his fingers, going back and forth between those motions until you were letting out a steady stream of whines and whimpers.

"S-sorry, Dr. Abbot, it just feels s-so good," you moaned, arching further into his grasp. Your thighs rubbed together, your clit begging for any sort of relief and finding none–just the slick slide of your arousal spreading across your inner thighs.

"That's okay, it's important that I hear how your body reacts to me," he said before dipping down and wrapping his lips around your other nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. The duality of sensations–cold metal on one side and molten heat on the other–had you feeling dizzy.

"Feeling good? That ache goin' away yet?" he asked, abandoning the stethoscope and switching sides. He devoured your other nipple, giving it the same sinful attention–licking, nipping, and tugging between his teeth.

You shook your head, "Need more, Dr. Abbot," you whined, hips bucking off the bed at a particularly hard suck.

He released you with a wet pop, his chest heaving and pupils blown wide. You glanced down and saw his cock was hard, straining against the confines of his cargos.

"Yeah? Okay, then, lie back and spread your legs for me, sweetheart."

You did as he said, scooting back until you were lying back on your elbows and your feet were propped up on the mattress. You removed the hospital gown where it had pooled at your middle, leaving you in just your skimpy panties.

The snap of latex gloves rang though the bedroom, and a moment later Jack was on his knees between your legs, spreading your thighs open.

He ran his gloved finger over the soaked gusset and tutted, "I'm afraid these are going to have to come off," he said, slipping a finger under the waistband and tugging them down your legs–then pocketed the scrap of lace.

"That's not very professional, Dr. Abbot," you pouted, "You keep every pretty girl's underwear?"

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly at you, "Only the one's that are a major pain in my ass," he said under his breath.

You gasped and sent him a playful glare–which went completely ignored by him, his attention solely focused on your exposed and dripping cunt laid out in front of him.

"Now I'm going to examine your vagina, is that okay?" he asked, running his hands up and down your thighs.

"Yes, Dr. Abbot, please," you breathed out, the anticipation killing you at this point.

He stretched your thighs open wider and ran two fingers through your folds, spreading your abundant arousal around. The feel of the latex against your wet folds was so different, his fingers gliding through your wetness so smoothly, the roughness of his calloused fingertips obscured by the gloves. The clinical feel of it made your tummy twist in a mix of excitement and anxiousness.

"God, you're so, so wet. That's good," he said, the words thick in his mouth. His thumbs parted your lips, revealing your puffy little clit and tight hole. He was entranced by your pussy, the way your slick dripped down your thighs and your hole clenched around nothing. His thumb swiped over your clit briefly, a flash of contact where you needed it most before fading away. Your hips raised up to chase it, but his hold kept to pinned to the bed.

"Everything looks perfect," he said, running his thumb up and down your vulva, circling around your clit on each pass, "Such a perfect, pretty pussy." He was so close that you could feel his hot breath against your cunt, each exhale sending a tingling zap down your spine.

His thumb slid down a little further and circled around the tight ring of muscle there, applying the barest amount of pressure as he rubbed it. You gasped and squirmed at the unfamiliar touch, your cheeks heating up fiercely.

He chuckled lightly at your reaction and removed his thumb, "We'll check that at the follow up exam," he said, then notched two fingers at your entrance and pushed in slowly, "I'm going to do an internal nerve check now."

The intrusion steals the breath from your lungs, his thick fingers stretching you out so deliciously. For the first time since the storage closet, it felt like there was some real relief to the ache you've been carrying around.

A broken moan ripped through you when he hooked his fingers, expertly finding your g-spot and rubbing against it mercilessly with the pressure that made your toes curl and your vision white out. Your walls clenched hard around him, your greedy cunt sucking him in deeper.

"Good girl, let it all out. Let me hear you," he said, curling his fingers harder and rubbing tight circles against your throbbing clit. The rubbery squeak of his gloves mixed with the wet schlick of your wetness as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the sound so obscene you felt a little embarrassed.

The coil in your core wound tighter and pinpricks radiated through your body, your orgasm approaching with a vengeance, furious at being previously denied.

"Please, Dr. Abbot, please make me cum, I–fuck, pleeeese I need it," you cried, rocking your hips recklessly against his hand, the movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

He alternated between scissoring his fingers and curling them against your g-spot, "Go ahead, sweetheart, cum for me, you're gonna feel so much better when you cum," he said, the want thick in his voice and his professional tone almost completely abandoned.

He deepened the pressure on your clit, rubbing the nub relentlessly, and with a final crook of his fingers, the coil snapped, your orgasm washing over your in violent waves. You thrashed as the waves of pleasure rolled through you, your veins white hot and burning, toes and fists curling into the sheets. Your mouth hung open in a perpetual 'o', a deafening moan, groan, or some other such mixture of sound reverberating through you.

Jack worked you through it, keeping up the steady pressure until you were a whimpering mess and your hips were retreating from the friction rather than chasing it.

His latex-clad palm was soaked with your release when he pulled away, and he wasted no time licking a thick stripe through your mess, "fuck, honey, I could drink you up," he groaned, his eyes wild as he took in your debauched form, panting and boneless on the bed in front of him.

He shucked the gloves off and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed. You squealed at the sudden movement, mind still hazy from the earth shattering orgasm you just had.

"Now–fuck–now I just need to check the elasticity of your vagina," he said, shoving down his pants and boxers in one go. His cock stood proud–long and thick, beads of pre-cum dripping down his shaft. The tip was flushed red and begging for attention.

"I don't give a fuck what you call it Jack, but I need your cock inside me now," you whined, pawing at his shirt, pushing it up his chest until he took over and threw it off. Your hands roamed the newly exposed skin, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his pecs and trailing down the planes of his stomach.

"Okay, baby, 'm gonna take such good care of you, gonna fuck this pussy so good," he said, pushing your legs up to your chest and lining his cock up with your entrance, swiping the tip through your messy folds before pushing into you with one deep thrust.

"Please, Dr. Abbot, I've been aching for your cock all night," you cried, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he split you open, the slight burn giving way to mind-numbing pleasure as he dragged his cock back, leaving just the tip before slamming back in. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward harshly, his heavy balls smacking your ass with each punishing thrust.

"Fuck, I'm so full, Dr. Abbot, you're so deep," you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts, but failing half of the time. He was fucking you so hard that you were seeing stars, his cock dragging exquisitely across every nerve in your cunt, each thrust lighting a fire across your oversensitive body.

"That's it, my girl, knew you could take it. Pussy's fuckin' made for me, tight little thing stretches right around me, fuck, squeezes me just right," he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh where he gripped your thighs.

"J-Jack, fuck–"

"No," he growled, his pace slowing, "That's not my name right now, is it?"

"Dr. Abbot," you corrected quickly, breathlessly, "my pussy was made for you, Dr. Abbot."

"That's right, baby. Fuck, you're such a dirty girl, aren't you? Letting your doctor fuck you stupid," he said, picking the pace back up, doubling his efforts now as he felt how close you were–your pussy contracting wildly around him.

The wet slap of skin against skin echoed throughout the room, intermingled with your wanton moans and Jack's deep grunts.

He shifted forward a bit, forearms bracketing your head, and pushed your legs further up, fucking into you even deeper. His cock rubbed up against the depths of your cunt, and the neatly trimmed patch of curls at the base of his cock brushed against your clit, delivering delicious friction to the sensitive bud.

"Right there, Dr. Abbot, don't stop please, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum," you chanted, eyes squeezing shut as the coil snapped, your back bowing off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. Fire zipped through your veins, radiating from your core to the tips of your toes and the top of your head. Your cunt pulsed rhythmically around his cock, greedily sucking it back in.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you cum," he grunted, eyes now trained on the spot where your bodies connected, a creamy ring coating the base of his cock. The remnants of your orgasm and the way your pussy milked his cock sent him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he emptied his load into you.

He stayed buried in you for a moment, pressing soft kisses to whatever heated bits of flesh he could reach. Your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, not pushing him any deeper but keeping him close. You ran your hands through his sweaty curls, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck every once and a while.

"That wasn't too much, was it? I didn't go too far?" he asked hoarsely, brushing your hair out of your face and caressing your cheek.

You shook your head immediately, "not at all. It was so fucking hot," you said honestly, assuring him that you loved every moment of it.

You laid in comfortable silence for a moment before your cheekiness got the better of you, "I'm not sure if you completely alleviated the ache, though. Might need to go a couple more rounds to make sure it's fully gone," you sighed dramatically.

He huffed a laugh at you, "Like I said, pain in my ass," he said, shaking his head.

You ignored that comment, knowing that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

"Ooooh, maybe next time I can play nurse," you mused, a dopey smile on your face as you teased him, "y'know, I could take your vital signs, assess your symptoms–oh! I could even wear one of those slutty little nurse's dresses."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and continued, "I mean, I could even give you a sponge bath, you are my old man, after all."

You squeaked when he delivered a sharp slap to your thigh, then giggled at the disgruntled look on his face.

"You're just full of it this morning, aren't you?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Old man, huh?"

taglist: @ficcyyfics @realwhoreforfictionalmen

i’m obsessed with ex!jack abbot who doesn’t seem to be on the same page when it comes to what being broken up means as you.

he still flirts with you, constantly. his touches are far too lingering for any professional setting. and he refuses to retire the badge clip you got him while you were still together—the one that matched your own, which has since been replaced with a new different one that made jack frown when he noticed.

however long it’s been since the breakup, jack is no less deterred by your cold shoulders and eye rolls. the night shift was worried at first when they had heard the news, concerned that things would be tense and awkward between the two doctors.

they weren’t wrong, but it was in a much more confusing way than they had anticipated. instead of the classic bickering of exes they expected, they are forced to watch their attending and his pathetic attempts to win back your favor, which you seem keen to thwart...sort of.

like now, as they watch jack saunter up next to you at the start of a shift and casually place a coffee in front of you—your exact order that he’s had memorized since you started at ptmc.

you barely spare it a glance, eyes focused back on the tablet in hand as you review labs for a patient.

“what’s that?” you ask dryly.

“just a little something,” jack shrugged like it was something exes did all the time.

“jack,” you sighed out. you turn to face him with a stern expression and when you open your mouth to speak again he beats you to it.

“i know, i know. ‘s not a big deal, sweetheart,” he placates.

“jack,” you say again, firmer this time. “we talked about this.” exes don't buy each other coffee or call each other petnames.

“i don’t know what you mean,” he shrugs and nudges the cup towards you before sauntering to the lockers, camo backpack slung over his shoulder.

you sigh in defeat, only taking a sip of the drink you already know is exactly to your liking once he's out of sight. damn him.

orrrr

someone else getting too close with you, maybe a thread of your sweater got caught on your earring (the ones that jack bought you when you were together, they’re your favorite pair and it has nothing to do with him, obviously) and the new med student that’s been following you around like puppy the last few shifts since he’s switched to nights who jack has been less than warm to is already at your side to help you untangle the offending fiber from your delicate jewelry.

jack’s in the middle of talking to parker when he stops mid sentence and beelines straight towards the scene the second his view of you is obstructed by the student’s back, whose face is too close to your’s for jack's comfort. parker just scoffs. rude, she will remember this next time he asks her to do something.

he’s across the floor in record time, “excuse you, how ‘bout you let me handle that?” jack announces himself a little sternly, hands moving into the space to take over and nudge the man away. he says it like it’s obvious, like he should know that it’s something jack is supposed to take care of; the delicate and intimate task of rescuing your earlobe. “gotta be careful,” he’s grumbling out, fingers gentle against your skin as his brow furrows in utter concentration.

the student backs up a step, looking a little startled as he glances between you two and the way you allow the older doctor to free the thread from your white gold stud without any fuss. you’re finally able to drop your shoulder and stand straight, but jack still remains pressed to your side.

“oh—sorry, are you two, like, together?” he asks like it’s already been answered.

“no.” you shoot down immediately, a little hastily if jack was to say.

“something like that” jack’s reply comes at the same time, his head tilting back to size the med student up down his nose. you scowl at him.

the kids face scrunches in confusion at the mixed answers.

“no. we are not together,” you state firmly. more like you were making sure jack knew and not the new guy.

jack’s mouth pulls up the slightest bit at the corners as he looks at you and your stern face. god, he’d love to kiss you. it’s dropped quickly when he turns back to the student, crossing his arms and maybe flexing his biceps for extra oomph as he looks him up and down, “what’s it to you?”

you let out a small groan, glancing up at the ceiling in a silent plea for strength to deal with your ex-boyfriend-still-boss, “oh my god, ignore him,” you say, “i always do.”

“oh..kay,” the student’s saying before scurrying away from whatever that situation was.

you take a two steps back and turn so you’re facing jack.

“that was a bit much, don’t you think?”

he takes one step forward, “just restoring balance,” he shrugs, arms still straining at the sleeves of his scrubs where they’re crossed over his chest, definitely flexing for you now.

“oh please,” you wave off, “he was harmless. and you are annoying.”

jack takes a moment to tuck the hair that’s fallen from your updo behind your ear with a gentleness that is incredibly too loaded for the middle of the night in the emergency room, making your breath stutter. his fingers skim the earrings he remembers buying you for your 3 month anniversary and you try your best to fight your body from leaning into his familiar touch. he leans in a bit closer, hand falling away from your face.

“you love it,” he whispers smugly before heading towards the ambulance bay, leaving you tingling all over and fighting to maintain the walls he keeps trying to break down around your heart.

later, when the new med student walks up to parker, eyes glancing across the room to where he see's dr abbot walking beside you to a patient room, his hand coming up to usher you by the small of your back before you reach back and swat it away harshly. he watches as jack just clasps his arms behind his back and leans closer to you, undeterred.

"so what's their deal?" he's nodding towards the pair. parker looks up from the patient chart briefly to see what he's talking about. she snorts and shakes her head.

Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot had been vying for your attention for over a year. Flirtatious remarks and sly touches were common occurrences as each interaction you had always left a stuttering mess. Feeling as if your skin was burning with unbearable heat it became a reaction the two men had begun to crave every time you worked with them.

But you never thought they truly meant it. Always assuming it was them being nice to the new girl, an attempt to make you feel comfortable. Even though four years have now gone by and they have yet to stop their flirtatious ways. You would’ve never guessed that two of the most attractive men you've ever met were genuinely interested in you.

And it didn’t help that you were almost half their age. Leaving you to always feel less than with those around you. Thinking about all your other coworkers who were older, smarter, and prettier than you were. Leaving you oblivious that the two men you’ve been pining over have been doing the same to you. It drove them insane.

It had gotten to the point where Jack had accidentally yelled out your name while Robby was fucking him into the mattress. Neither was offended seeing how both of them had wished you were there between them. So as you walked away neglecting to exit out of your tab, they couldn’t help but peek at your left open browser.

“This is what’s got her sighing like that?” Jack's face furrowed in disbelief as he spoke first, “Scrubs?”

“Maybe they didn’t have the color she really wanted” Robby stated while shrugging his shoulders, trying just as hard as Jack to figure out what happened.

“Are you both truly that pathetically stupid?” a thick Pittsburgh accent broke through their contemplation, "She's upset because she wants nice scrubs of her own and can’t afford it, especially at a nurses salary. And I should know!”

Dana’s sharp tone had them understanding in an instant what had you so upset. Forgoing their current task of patient report they took a moment to look at your cart. With your size displayed in what you’ve already put in they took their time in browsing through the whole website.

They added a few more pairs of scrubs, as well as a jacket and vest with your name and letters personalized into the breast pocket. Grabbing each underscrub in fun colors they know you love. As well as compression socks that you’ve recently mentioned were life changing when you wore a pair to work the other week.

The total amount didn’t seem to have either of the two attendings batting an eye. But had it been you, you would’ve passed out at the idea of spending that much money on anything let alone yourself. However, Jack and Robby have now made it their mission to make sure you know exactly what you’re worth.

After making sure it was sent to Jacks house their next step was making sure you finally knew how much they cared for you. This came in the form of a small surprise birthday party at a bar thrown by Dana with your roommates Trinity and Dennis. You originally thought it was just a night out with the three of you, but as you walked through the door a group yelled out ‘Happy Birthday!’.

After a round of hugs and chatter along with a few shots and a couple drinks, you were well into a good buzz when you felt two warm large bodies come behind you as you were thanking Dana. You watched as a smug smile came across her lips, at the same time two pairs of hands wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Happy birthday sweetheart” Robby’s low voice resonated in your ear.

“You finally old enough to drink now?” Jack gruff tone mixing with Robby’s own had goosebumps rising across your skin.

Heat filled your cheeks as your head swiveled from one side to the other, meeting their eyes in a frantic manner as you tried to piece together words. Sentences never formed, seeing as the best you could do with the alcohol settling in your system was letting out a deep breath.

“Oh no, I think we may have sent her into shock Michael,” Jack cooed out the syllables as he brought a thumb up to pull down your bottom lip.

“Come on now Jack don’t be mean, it’s her birthday and we haven’t even given her a present yet” Robby's own hand traveled lower settling on the curve of your lower back.

“She’s a big girl now Mike, 26 is old enough to know what she likes isn’t it.”

Your brain had all but turned to mush as their words and close proximity had you dizzy with need. The soft scent of their cologne’s floating into your senses had your feet following them to wherever they were directing you. Which seemed to be a tucked away booth in the corner of the room.

It was dimly lit and slightly hidden away with a box placed right in the middle of the table. They tucked you into the seat first before Jack sat on your left and Robby on your right. A hostess came by dropping off a few drinks that you didn’t remember ordering.

But as you looked up you met eyes with Trinity who was giving you a very suggestive look, and Dennis beside her with red cheeks and a shy smile. Your focus didn’t stay on your roommates for very long as a large hand fell to your knee and another across your shoulders.

“Go on and open your present sweetheart” it was evidently Jack's hand on your knee as he gave it a small squeeze.

After a big gulp of the pink cocktail in front of you, you reached out with shaking hands to unwrap the gift. As the top comes off a small note on top of the gift paper read ‘only the best for our best girl’. Tucking the note into the side so that it didn’t get lost you pulled out the first item.

It was the FIGs scrubs you could only imagine owning, but now the butter soft fabric was in your hands. You could already feel the stinging sensation of tears filling your eyes at the gift. Looking at both of them in disbelief they just smiled and encouraged you to keep looking.

In total you ended up with; four sets of scrubs, four underscrub long sleeves, a fleece jacket and vest, six compression socks, and two new pairs of clove shoes. As well as a ton of new pens that probably won’t last the week.

“T-this is too much, I can’t even imagine what this cost you” your voice was thick with emotion as you spoke, “I-I’m not worth all of this”

“You are worth this and so much more, you would’ve thought after four years of us struggling for your attention would’ve told you that” Robby held your gaze with each word, watching how your face fell into confusion.

“He’s right, all you had to do was as and we would give you the world. Instead we’ve been living through moments of breakroom passes and coworker get togethers” Jack huffed out a laugh at the end.

“You like me? Like actually, I thought you two were just being nice” your head once again swiveled trying to meet both their eyes, “b-but there’s literally so many people smarter and prettier and older than I am, you shouldn’t waste your time-”

“Absolutely not,” Jack squeezed your thigh so that you would stop looking like a drunk owl twisting its head, “you are an amazing person and one of the best nurses we’ve ever worked with, and trust me we’ve worked with a lot.”

“Kid we’ve been doing this since before you were born and trust us when we say, you are absolutely worth this and more” Robby seized your chin in his grip, “now can I please kiss you? Been waiting fucking years just to taste you.”

“God yes please”

Your words were swallowed by the rush of Robby's lips on yours, his beard brushing against your skin. The hand that rested against your thigh glided up until it snuck under the hem of your dress, squeezing the soft expanse of your thigh. At the same time another pair of lips attached themselves to you, Jack couldn’t help himself as the bend of your neck looked so damn inviting.

The touches had taken you by surprise, a gasp escaping you had given Robby the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue delving into your mouth exploring what it could. He tasted of whiskey and mint, a flavor that you could easily become addicted to. A sharp pinch of teeth at the junction of your neck had you releasing a moan straight into Robby’s mouth.

“C’mon now don’t be selfish, you said we could share”

Jack had successfully pulled you from Robby before bringing you lips to his side. His was more demanding, claiming you as theirs. The bourbon from his drink slid onto your tongue. Robby following Jacks previous work moved his mouth down to your neck, marking his side as Jack had done.

“Happy birthday baby” Robby’s rough whisper caused you to all but whimper into Jack's kiss.

His hand also went to a thigh moving up until he felt where Jack's hand rested as well, both circling your sensitive skin barely brushing where you wanted them. The attention of their touches had you ready to fuck them in the corner booth. As evident by the way your body began responding and searching for more, and the growing wet spot on the gusset of your underwear.

“5$ they’re about to go fuck in the alleyway” Trinity was the first of the group that was unashamedly watching the three of you to speak up.

“I’ll double it and bet they’re at least making it to Jack's truck” Dana was next to add, “it has a bench seat in front”

“T-they w-wouldn’t… would they?” Dennis’ small voice cracked at the idea of his roommate and bosses being in such a position.

“Oh absolutely they would, if McKay looked at me like that we’d be in the bathroom right now doing worse than that” Victoria's statement had everyone looking at her in a shocked expression, “damn was that too far?”

“Not at all, but I do think the bathroom is free” The unexpected voice of Cassie came from behind the group. Momentarily distracting them from the three of you.

But it wasn’t long before the attention was back on you as you all stood up and began walking out of the bar. Giving the group a wink and a smile as the two men all but dragged you out of the bar. A chime on Dennis’ phone rang, it was a text from you asking him to bring home the box on the table. After showing Trinity he went to show the rest of the group, but quickly realized it was only the two of them and Dana left.

“5$ says in the next week our bosses will be in our kitchen after fucking her all night” Trinity proposed a new bet with a devilish smirk.

“Trin what the actual fuck!” The disgust on Dennis’ face was enough to make her keep poking at him.

“An added 5$ if we have to put on noise canceling headphones because they’re breaking furniture!”

Dennis had tried to walk away but Trinity kept following, creating worse and worse situations. Dana was left to stand there with her husband, watching everyone depart to new corners of the bar.

“You done matchmaking yet?” Her husband asked.

“Well I got the main three and an unexpected side, but I still need Trinity to talk to Walsh and Dennis with Brenden but I’m good for now”

Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot had been vying for your attention for over a year. Flirtatious remarks and sly touches were common occurrences as each interaction you had always left a stuttering mess. Feeling as if your skin was burning with unbearable heat it became a reaction the two men had begun to crave every time you worked with them.

But you never thought they truly meant it. Always assuming it was them being nice to the new girl, an attempt to make you feel comfortable. Even though four years have now gone by and they have yet to stop their flirtatious ways. You would’ve never guessed that two of the most attractive men you've ever met were genuinely interested in you.

And it didn’t help that you were almost half their age. Leaving you to always feel less than with those around you. Thinking about all your other coworkers who were older, smarter, and prettier than you were. Leaving you oblivious that the two men you’ve been pining over have been doing the same to you. It drove them insane.

It had gotten to the point where Jack had accidentally yelled out your name while Robby was fucking him into the mattress. Neither was offended seeing how both of them had wished you were there between them. So as you walked away neglecting to exit out of your tab, they couldn’t help but peek at your left open browser.

“This is what’s got her sighing like that?” Jack's face furrowed in disbelief as he spoke first, “Scrubs?”

“Maybe they didn’t have the color she really wanted” Robby stated while shrugging his shoulders, trying just as hard as Jack to figure out what happened.

“Are you both truly that pathetically stupid?” a thick Pittsburgh accent broke through their contemplation, "She's upset because she wants nice scrubs of her own and can’t afford it, especially at a nurses salary. And I should know!”

Dana’s sharp tone had them understanding in an instant what had you so upset. Forgoing their current task of patient report they took a moment to look at your cart. With your size displayed in what you’ve already put in they took their time in browsing through the whole website.

They added a few more pairs of scrubs, as well as a jacket and vest with your name and letters personalized into the breast pocket. Grabbing each underscrub in fun colors they know you love. As well as compression socks that you’ve recently mentioned were life changing when you wore a pair to work the other week.

The total amount didn’t seem to have either of the two attendings batting an eye. But had it been you, you would’ve passed out at the idea of spending that much money on anything let alone yourself. However, Jack and Robby have now made it their mission to make sure you know exactly what you’re worth.

After making sure it was sent to Jacks house their next step was making sure you finally knew how much they cared for you. This came in the form of a small surprise birthday party at a bar thrown by Dana with your roommates Trinity and Dennis. You originally thought it was just a night out with the three of you, but as you walked through the door a group yelled out ‘Happy Birthday!’.

After a round of hugs and chatter along with a few shots and a couple drinks, you were well into a good buzz when you felt two warm large bodies come behind you as you were thanking Dana. You watched as a smug smile came across her lips, at the same time two pairs of hands wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Happy birthday sweetheart” Robby’s low voice resonated in your ear.

“You finally old enough to drink now?” Jack gruff tone mixing with Robby’s own had goosebumps rising across your skin.

Heat filled your cheeks as your head swiveled from one side to the other, meeting their eyes in a frantic manner as you tried to piece together words. Sentences never formed, seeing as the best you could do with the alcohol settling in your system was letting out a deep breath.

“Oh no, I think we may have sent her into shock Michael,” Jack cooed out the syllables as he brought a thumb up to pull down your bottom lip.

“Come on now Jack don’t be mean, it’s her birthday and we haven’t even given her a present yet” Robby's own hand traveled lower settling on the curve of your lower back.

“She’s a big girl now Mike, 26 is old enough to know what she likes isn’t it.”

Your brain had all but turned to mush as their words and close proximity had you dizzy with need. The soft scent of their cologne’s floating into your senses had your feet following them to wherever they were directing you. Which seemed to be a tucked away booth in the corner of the room.

It was dimly lit and slightly hidden away with a box placed right in the middle of the table. They tucked you into the seat first before Jack sat on your left and Robby on your right. A hostess came by dropping off a few drinks that you didn’t remember ordering.

But as you looked up you met eyes with Trinity who was giving you a very suggestive look, and Dennis beside her with red cheeks and a shy smile. Your focus didn’t stay on your roommates for very long as a large hand fell to your knee and another across your shoulders.

“Go on and open your present sweetheart” it was evidently Jack's hand on your knee as he gave it a small squeeze.

After a big gulp of the pink cocktail in front of you, you reached out with shaking hands to unwrap the gift. As the top comes off a small note on top of the gift paper read ‘only the best for our best girl’. Tucking the note into the side so that it didn’t get lost you pulled out the first item.

It was the FIGs scrubs you could only imagine owning, but now the butter soft fabric was in your hands. You could already feel the stinging sensation of tears filling your eyes at the gift. Looking at both of them in disbelief they just smiled and encouraged you to keep looking.

In total you ended up with; four sets of scrubs, four underscrub long sleeves, a fleece jacket and vest, six compression socks, and two new pairs of clove shoes. As well as a ton of new pens that probably won’t last the week.

“T-this is too much, I can’t even imagine what this cost you” your voice was thick with emotion as you spoke, “I-I’m not worth all of this”

“You are worth this and so much more, you would’ve thought after four years of us struggling for your attention would’ve told you that” Robby held your gaze with each word, watching how your face fell into confusion.

“He’s right, all you had to do was as and we would give you the world. Instead we’ve been living through moments of breakroom passes and coworker get togethers” Jack huffed out a laugh at the end.

“You like me? Like actually, I thought you two were just being nice” your head once again swiveled trying to meet both their eyes, “b-but there’s literally so many people smarter and prettier and older than I am, you shouldn’t waste your time-”

“Absolutely not,” Jack squeezed your thigh so that you would stop looking like a drunk owl twisting its head, “you are an amazing person and one of the best nurses we’ve ever worked with, and trust me we’ve worked with a lot.”

“Kid we’ve been doing this since before you were born and trust us when we say, you are absolutely worth this and more” Robby seized your chin in his grip, “now can I please kiss you? Been waiting fucking years just to taste you.”

“God yes please”

Your words were swallowed by the rush of Robby's lips on yours, his beard brushing against your skin. The hand that rested against your thigh glided up until it snuck under the hem of your dress, squeezing the soft expanse of your thigh. At the same time another pair of lips attached themselves to you, Jack couldn’t help himself as the bend of your neck looked so damn inviting.

The touches had taken you by surprise, a gasp escaping you had given Robby the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue delving into your mouth exploring what it could. He tasted of whiskey and mint, a flavor that you could easily become addicted to. A sharp pinch of teeth at the junction of your neck had you releasing a moan straight into Robby’s mouth.

“C’mon now don’t be selfish, you said we could share”

Jack had successfully pulled you from Robby before bringing you lips to his side. His was more demanding, claiming you as theirs. The bourbon from his drink slid onto your tongue. Robby following Jacks previous work moved his mouth down to your neck, marking his side as Jack had done.

“Happy birthday baby” Robby’s rough whisper caused you to all but whimper into Jack's kiss.

His hand also went to a thigh moving up until he felt where Jack's hand rested as well, both circling your sensitive skin barely brushing where you wanted them. The attention of their touches had you ready to fuck them in the corner booth. As evident by the way your body began responding and searching for more, and the growing wet spot on the gusset of your underwear.

“5$ they’re about to go fuck in the alleyway” Trinity was the first of the group that was unashamedly watching the three of you to speak up.

“I’ll double it and bet they’re at least making it to Jack's truck” Dana was next to add, “it has a bench seat in front”

“T-they w-wouldn’t… would they?” Dennis’ small voice cracked at the idea of his roommate and bosses being in such a position.

“Oh absolutely they would, if McKay looked at me like that we’d be in the bathroom right now doing worse than that” Victoria's statement had everyone looking at her in a shocked expression, “damn was that too far?”

“Not at all, but I do think the bathroom is free” The unexpected voice of Cassie came from behind the group. Momentarily distracting them from the three of you.

But it wasn’t long before the attention was back on you as you all stood up and began walking out of the bar. Giving the group a wink and a smile as the two men all but dragged you out of the bar. A chime on Dennis’ phone rang, it was a text from you asking him to bring home the box on the table. After showing Trinity he went to show the rest of the group, but quickly realized it was only the two of them and Dana left.

“5$ says in the next week our bosses will be in our kitchen after fucking her all night” Trinity proposed a new bet with a devilish smirk.

“Trin what the actual fuck!” The disgust on Dennis’ face was enough to make her keep poking at him.

“An added 5$ if we have to put on noise canceling headphones because they’re breaking furniture!”

Dennis had tried to walk away but Trinity kept following, creating worse and worse situations. Dana was left to stand there with her husband, watching everyone depart to new corners of the bar.

“You done matchmaking yet?” Her husband asked.

“Well I got the main three and an unexpected side, but I still need Trinity to talk to Walsh and Dennis with Brenden but I’m good for now”