Things

Dennis's old family truck rocks back and forth lightly, like a warm summer’s breeze is passing through the empty field it’s parked in. But this cool, breezeless autumn night, the rocking is caused by the people inside. 

Your thrusts are inexperienced, uncertain, and so nervous that someone may walk by, and notice the blasphemy happening behind the fogged up windows. No one will; the wheat fields have grown tall enough that the truck is nearly completely hidden.  Your head falls against Dennis's shoulder, head tilted slightly as if to try and kiss him. You never do, though. 

Kissing is too real; a seal on the letter of sin you and Dennis have been writing for the past several months. You’d seal the letter a thousand times over, stick it with a stamp, and send it out to the world. Dennis refuses- for good reason, your families would hardly be accepting of… Whatever it is you and Dennis are. 

Dennis's breath flutters your hair, and his hands claw at your back, red lines surely being left behind. Red lines that will surely be there in the morning, ones you’ll treasure in the mirror, relish in the burn you feel when you hide them beneath a shirt. Red lines- red lights flash in the corner of your eyes, then blue, breaking through the window. 

“Denny, you in there?” John Whitaker’s (Dennis's second older brother) voice follows shortly after a knock on the window.

“S-shoot,” Dennis shoves you off him harshly, your head bouncing off the passenger seat. “Hide yourself!”

“Where?” You hiss back, ducking your head when John brings his flashlight up to the window. “Not exactly many places to shove myself under!”

“Just--” Dennis glares at you, a look of distress, and guilt. You can’t tell if it’s guilt from being caught, or him snapping at you. He grabs his jeans, tossing it over your head.

 “Dennis, I know it’s you, I can see Pa’s lucky rabbit’s foot hangin’ on the rearview! Who’ve you got in there?” John taunts, knocking on the window again. “Is it Elizabeth? I saw her making eyes at you durin’ church the other day!”

“Joooohnnn,” Dennis grows, clutching his shirt to his chest, scooting forward to crank the window down. “Why’re you out here?”

“Pretty sure that’s my question, Denny boy,” you don’t dare try to look up, holding your breath to keep from being noticed. “I was doing my rounds, saw Pa’s truck in the field, and was worried some thief got to it. I was being a good cop, and a great son! You are out past curfew with a girl.”

“Please don’t tell Mama, and Pa,” Dennis begs, his voice wavering slightly. The leather creaks as Dennis moves, presumably to keep John from trying to steal looks into the truck. “I’ll do your chores for the rest of the year, I promise.”

“Calm down, Dennis. I’m not gonna tell. I think it’s good yer breaking loose, you goody two shoes,” John snorts, his utility belt clacking with the shift of his weight, still trying to see who Dennis is rendezvousing with. “Well!... Get home. Now, and be a gentleman, and drop the lady off at home too, huh?”

There’s a shift in his tone that you can’t place, a flatness that wasn’t there before. The relief you feel when you hear him turn away, then a car door opening and shutting, overshadows anything that nags at the back of your mind. 

“Crazy, right?” You laugh awkwardly, crawling over the center console into the passenger seat. “Dennis?” At his lack of response, you turn around, finding him staring out the window where John’s car just was. “Dennis?” 

“What?” His head whips over to you, eyes owlishly wide. “S-sorry. We should go,” he mumbles, maneuvering into the driver’s seat, avoiding any physical contact with you. 

“Yeah… We should.” You nod, pulling your shirt on. Your breathing shudders as he pulls out of the field, heart beating in time with the old, sputtering air conditioning. 

Dennis stops driving around a half mile away from your house. The truck jerks, and Dennis isn’t looking at you when unbuckle. “Not gonna walk me to the front door, Denny?”

The looks he gives you suggests that you just ran over his prized calf instead of making a fun little joke. “Why would I walk you to the door? I’m not your boyfriend, this is a secret! We can’t- I’m not. I’m not gay!”

“I didn’t say you were, Dennis! I was jokin’!” You scoff, taken aback by Dennis's defensiveness. “I’ll--”

“You shouldn’t be joking about stuff like this! Do you know what would’ve happened if John had seen you!? W-we coulda been taken to jail, or he coulda told our parents, and who knows what they’d do to us!” Dennis's arms are flailing about, his voice growing higher, more desperate. “We are sinning! We’re going to go to hell b-because that’s where all the… All the fags go! And you’re here jokin’ that I should be walking you to your house?”

Your bottom lip wobbles as Dennis continues with his tirade, all words you’ve heard from your parents, his parents, the people in town. None of the vitriol was even directed at you, and it was already fear inducing. You don’t want to know what would happen if it was directed at you. 

“I’m sorry, Dennis… It was a bad joke,” you stammer, biting at the dry skin on your lip until you taste blood. “I’ll walk the rest of the way to my house.”

“Good! Get out,” Dennis cries, pursing his lips, and turning his head away from you. “Get out,” he whispers, softer this time.

You don’t say anything else, gathering the jeans you still haven’t put on, leaving the car. You barely have time to close the door before Dennis is peeling away; you watch the back of his truck get smaller, then disappear completely down the hill. The Whitaker farm isn’t far from yours, close enough you can hear the truck backfire when Dennis makes the sharp turn into their driveway. 

A cool breeze ruffles the foliage around you, goosebumps pricking your skin. Your entire body feels mechanical as you pull your jeans on, feet moving on their own to bring you to your house. The front door winces open, in time with your own. You’d go through your window, but the last time you did that, you popped the frame out, and had to make up an excuse about a dislocated shoulder you didn’t have the day before. 

It’s not like you have to worry about your parents waking up; Papa wouldn’t wake up if a tornado was at his head, and anything Mama would be able to hear gets drowned out by Papa’s snoring. It makes for an easy in and out. There’s still precautions you take, of course: avoiding the creaky boards, slowly shutting the door, no lights. The basics. 

“Where’ve you been?” Your papa’s voice comes from behind you, lights flooding the room. 

Your heart sinks like a lead weight in freshwater. There’s a tremor in your hands as you release the doorknob, and it turns full body as you turn around. “I-I was… I was out.”

“Past curfew?” Mama’s voice is tight, shriller than usual. “Were you with someone?”

“No, Ma’am. I just went for a walk, by myself,” you fib, forcing yourself to keep looking at them. The moment you look away, they’ll know you’re lying. They already do, you’re sure. “It was just a walk, I swear it.”

“He says he was just out for a walk, Teresa,” Papa shrugs, fingers curling around his arm, staring right into the depths of your soul. “A walk--”

“You’re lying!” Mama cries, slamming her hand down on the table. “John Whitaker came here and told us! You were with Dennis. You were sinning, and you dare lie to us? Have this devil no mercy on your soul?” Her voice has raised to a pitchy shriek, eyes as wild as her untamed hair. 

The world is spinning around you, too fast for you to handle. It’s all happening too fast. They weren’t supposed to find out, they weren’t supposed to know!

 “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Mama is in front of you now, grabbing your arms tighter than necessary. “What did we do wrong? We raised you right, we raised you good and well. How has a demon managed to possess our sweet boy? How did the devil take hold of you?”

“I’m not a demon, Mama. T-there is no devil in me!” You try to pry her off, but she’s stuck on you. Papa finally moves, encroaching behind Mama. “Please, Mama!”

“That’s the devil speaking,” she hisses, blunt nails digging into your skin. “How long have you and Dennis been sinning?”

“Mama, we haven’t--”

“Don’t lie to me!” She yells, rattling you around like a ragdoll. “You are a demonic child! I should’ve known. I should’ve known our only son had something wrong with him. I don’t know how this happened, I don’t know how you became a faggot. We didn’t raise you this way.”

“You can’t stop the devil’s doings, Teresa,” Papa finally speaks again, setting a hand on Mama’s shoulder, pulling her away from you like you’re the one that’s going to hurt her. “But we cannot condone this. You need to leave. Now.”

“No,” you shake your head, “No, please. Papa, I swear. I’m good. I’m not the devil!” 

Mama is crying into Papa’s chest, wailing loudly with her hand curled around her cross. “Be gone.”

There’s an emptiness to his eyes, no hint of love, not an ounce of recognition. It’s like he’s looking at a stranger, and not his own son. His only son. They’re just throwing you out. Just like that. 

“I don’t get to go get my things?” You ask, voice wavering slightly. That’s the least they can do, give you something!

“We bought those things for our son, and no faggot is a son of ours.” His words are resolute, brooking not even a chance for argument, no place for pleading.

You can only find it in yourself to nod, backing up to the door without breaking eye contact with the man in front of you. You hear the lock slide into place when you close the door, and the doorknob doesn’t move when you twist it. This is really happening. You need to go tell Dennis.

Dennis. If John told your parents, then surely he told his own. You don’t feel the shake in your bones as you take off down the road, boots kicking up loose rocks in the road. The lights are on in the Whitaker house, which is more than enough to confirm it. You bang on the front door frantically, trying to peer into the windows. 

John is the one to answer the door, like he’d been expecting you. There’s a smug, almost victorious smile on his face, evil and malicious. John Whitaker (Dennis's father) grabs John by the scruff, shoving him away. Mr. Whitaker is an intimidating man, tall and burly, and judgemental. He’s never liked you, finding you to be a bad influence on Dennis, always distracting him from his chores.

“You’re not welcome here,” he gruffs, standing in front of the door to keep you from daring to enter. “You need to leave our property.” 

“Please, Mr. Whitaker, I need to talk to Dennis, please,” you beg, standing on your toes to try and steal a glance over his shoulder. “I can explain. I can explain everything. Let me explain.”

“Dennis has already explained everything,” Mr. Whitaker says, stepping to the side to reveal Mrs. Whitaker holding Dennis to her chest. He’s crying, you can tell. “He told us everything. Left nothing out.”

Dennis explained it, and his parents didn’t kick him out. This is good news. Maybe if you can just talk to Dennis, he can convince them to let you stay. “He told us how you manipulated him into sinning. You corrupted him with your faggot ways.”

“What?” You can barely hear your own voice over the ringing in your ears. The world spins under your feet, and you nearly stumble. “No, no. That’s not true.”

Dennis wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t blame you for everything. He wouldn’t; he loves you- even if it’s just as a friend. He does. “No, Dennis, please. Please, Dennis, let me talk to you.” You’re crying now, pleading with him. “Dennis, at least look at me! Please! P-please.”

“Y-you tried to corrupt me,” Dennis insists, lifting his head to make eye contact with you. The guilt in his eyes hits you like a freightrain. He really is doing this. “You’ve got demons in your soul, and you’re tryna get me to join you. I-I’m not gay, I’m not like you.”

Like you. Is that what Dennis believes? Is it all that he sees when he looks at you? “No, Dennis. No, please. Don’t do this,” you beg, stepping forward with your eyes fixed on him, and only him. “Don’t let them--”

The last thing you see before the door is slammed in your face is Dennis burying his face into his mother’s chest. The first sob doesn’t tear from your throat until you’re miles down the road, your knees giving out beneath you. You don’t know what to do: no family, nothing to your name… No Dennis. Nothing, and nobody, and nowhere to go.

You look at your arms, the lines of your mother’s nails burning red hot on your skin. You clutch your arms against your chest, hands pushing down on your shoulders. Your skin stings as your fingers press against your back. You press harder, relishing in the sting Dennis left. 

------------ 

Dennis can’t look as his pa shuts the door in your face. He did this to you, he’s just like his parents, and your parents, casting you away like you mean nothing to him. All for the sake of not suffering the same fate that’s met you. 

“There’s some children even God can’t reach,” his mother whispers to him, rubbing his arms consolingly. “I’m just glad he didn’t drag you with him, my sweet boy.”

God? God!? He has nothing to do with this. It’s not God’s fault, it’s not the devil’s fault, it’s their fault. It’s your family’s fault. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have thrown you under the bus, he should’ve admitted it, and gone with you. He’s a coward, just like the god that can’t accept someone who’s different. 

He wakes up the next morning, and he marches to your house. The trashcans on the corner are full… with your stuff. He recognizes your clothes, your knick-knacks, everything. Your parents didn’t even have the decency to bag it, just tossing it right into the bin. He drops to his knees, gravel digging into his skin.

Dennis grabs a flannel that’s on the ground, pulling it to his chest. He has a million like it, so do you. No one will notice if he takes it, no one will notice if he tucks it into his dresser. He will, though. This one smells like you, it’s the only thing he has left of you. 

Dennis sobs into the fabric, burying his face into it the same way he did in his mother’s chest last night. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but his tears have long stopped falling when he gets up, dragging himself into town. Townsfolk stare at him, and he stares back, just long enough to look at their faces, hoping to find yours.

Maybe you didn’t leave town, someone might’ve been nice enough to let you stay in their house. With the looks Dennis is receiving, though, he doubts it. Word travels quickly in Broken Bow, as both of you learnt last night. 

Dennis searched everywhere, listened to every bit of gossip when he heard people whispering around him. They don’t know where you went; there’s rumors: ‘a bus to California’ ‘he checked himself into the nearest institution’ ‘eaten by coyotes after spending the night on the streets’. All more ridiculous, and devastating than the last. You’re really gone. 

Dennis feels empty, his heart ripped out, and gone with you. His best friend… Maybe there’s a little consolation. You got away, right? You always talked about it: leaving. Dennis always clammed up when you mentioned it; it’s just another thing that scares him. He’s never been out of Broken Bow, let alone Nebraska, like you dreamed about.

Maybe this is better for you. Or maybe it’s just how he’s trying to rationalize you being gone, Dennis isn’t sure. The fabric of your flannel warms him, tightening around him uncomfortably. He doesn’t take it off, though. He can’t. He won’t.

Dennis finds himself wandering back to your house, slinking up the front door. He knows your father is working in your family’s field, and your mother is likely in town, so he can enter freely. You don’t have any siblings to ruin your life.. And someone else’s. He slinks in through the front door, creeping up the stairs. 

He stands in the middle of your empty room, his mind unable to make sense of the room he once knew so well being completely stripped. It keeps trying to fill in the blanks: an unmade bed with mismatched sheets, clothes strewn across the floor, and haphazardly tossed in a basket, picture frames and wood carvings on the top of your dresser. He remembers everything, all of it, but it’s not there. 

Come this Friday, it won’t exist at all, and with your belongings, you. The town will pretend you never existed, not unless they need to gossip in hushed tones about the devil boy who tried to corrupt the Whitaker’s youngest son. The worst part is, they’ll never know it was Dennis's fault: he started it, he initiated it, and he was the one who couldn’t give you up. 

Dennis carries the weight with him everyday. Every time you don’t interrupt his daily chores, when you aren’t sitting a hair too close to him in church, everything. There’s times he wakes up and expects you to be there. The guilt eats at him until there’s nothing left, wearing him down to the bone, and when he builds himself back up, there’s still something lacking. 

----

Dennis finds himself pressed between Trinity and Javadi at some club, the glass tabletop he’s leaning against slightly sticky- it might also just be his sweat-slicked skin. Even as scantily clad as he is in the fishnet top Trinity insisted he had to wear, he’s still overheating. From dancing on the packed floor, obviously, and not the fact that Dr. Robby is sitting across from him in a t-shirt that’s just a size too small. 

“Stare harder, he hasn’t noticed yet,” Trinity snorts under her breath, jabbing her elbow into Dennis's arm in what she likes to call a loving, and playful manner. “Seriously, you’re going to burn holes into him.”

“Stop, I haven’t been staring at him,” Dennis mumbles, forcing his eyes away from Robby to glare at Trinity. “He’s just in front of me, hard not to look at him when I’m looking straight.”

Trinity pauses, drink half to her lips, and looks Dennis up, then down, then up again. “Huckleberry, nothing about you is looking straight right now.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Dennis huffs, smacking Trinity’s shoulder. “I just.. I.. I’m not staring at him!”

“Riiiight, and I’m ‘not’ about to go flirt with the bartender over there.” The finger quotes she does when she says ‘not’ makes Dennis roll his eyes. “Craaaash, let’s go get you refill!”

“But I don’t need a--” Trinity gives her a pointed look, waving an incredibly discreet hand between Dennis and Robby. “Ooooh, I do need a refill. Yes, let’s go!”

“I need a refill too!” Dennis raises his voice over the blasting music, holding his empty glass in the air.

“Huh? Can’t hear you!” Trinity spins around, shrugging with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

Dennis shakes his head, sighing deeply as he sets his glass back down. He does need a refill if he’s going to be dealing with Trinity’s antics all night, and if he wants enough confidence to broach talking to Robby. 

“You need a drink, Whitaker?” Robby’s voice drags Dennis out of his own thoughts, and Robby holds out the whiskey he’s been nursing for the past ten minutes. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“I.. uhm.. A-are you sure?” Dennis can feel his cheeks heat up, gingerly reaching for the crystal tumbler. “Thank you,” he mumbles sheepishly, taking a sip of the whiskey, face screwing up at the slight burn.

“Not a fan of whiskey there, kid?” Robby snorts, leaning back in the tall, leather-lined chair he’s in, tongue absentmindedly running over his bottom lip. 

“Reminds me of home,” Dennis coughs, passing the glass back over to Robby. “S-since whiskey is commonly made with corn, and corn is.. Y’know.”

“Nebraska, right?” Robby nods, watching Dennis intently. “Doesn’t answer the question, though. Not a fan?”

“Yeah, Nebraska,” he confirms, scooting ever-so-slightly closer to Robby’s side of the table. “... It’s not my favorite, I guess. It’s good! Just not my favorite.”

“It can be an acquired taste, you kinda get used to it after a while,” Robby leans forward again, tilting his head slightly. “What’s Nebraska like, aside from.. Corny?”

Dennis can’t help the snort that leaves him, “That’s horrible,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it is pretty corny… But it’s home. I’m not sure how to describe it other than that.”

“Do you miss it?”

Yeaaah, Dennis really needs that refill now. The last thing he expected was for Robby to start asking about home. Figures, the one time they're alone together and Robby has Dennis talking about stupid Broken Bow, Nebraska. 

“Some things, yeah. People mostly,” he answers vaguely, looking over the railing, down at the dancefloor on the first level of the club. “My parents, my brothers.” There’s a name that lingers in the back of his mind, the same of that always does when he thinks about home; he can’t bring himself to say it aloud, though. Hasn’t for years. 

“Family’s pretty important,” Robby agrees, standing up with a deep groan. “No friends though?.. No girlfriends?”

“No, no girlfriends,” Dennis laughs nervously, watching Robby come closer. 

“No boyfriends?” Robby pries, stopping when his shoulder presses against Dennis's. 

“... N-no. No boyfriends.” It’s true, he never had a boyfriend. “Broken Bow’s not exactly the most accepting place.”

“Pittsburgh must be quite a relief then.” Robby looks Dennis over, sucking air sharply through his teeth. “... It’s nice seeing you loosen up.”

“Dr. Robby, are you flirting with me?” Dennis asks, head tilting slightly. Please say yes, please say yes.

“What if I am?” Robby asks back, head tilting the same way Dennis has his. “Is that a problem, Dr. Whitaker?” 

Dennis giggles--like giggles--his head spinning slightly. Maybe he didn’t need another drink; attention is doing plenty to intoxicate him. “Not at all.” Dennis sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, feeling a surge of confidence as he strokes Robby’s arms. 

Robby grins, leaning closer to whisper in Dennis's ear when Trinity’s voice breaks through the crowd, “Huckleberry! You’re never going to believe this!” 

Dennis squints, trying to see why exactly Trinity is barreling through the crowds like a crazy person, “Someone just me and Javadi drinks, right? Yeah, I know, obviously they would, we’re cute as fuck- anyway, get this! He’s from Nebraska, maybe you guys know each other!” 

The grin on her face suggests that she knows exactly what Dennis is about to say: “Not everybody from Nebraska knows each other,” he sighs. Trinity does this constantly: any midwestern state is ‘you guys must know each other!’.

“Well, Vicky is bringing him over anyway. He’s cute.. For a guy,” she snickers, curling a lip up. “You can see!”

“I’m kind of…” Dennis trails off, looking between Trinity and Robby, widening his eyes at her to try and get the point across. 

“Vicky-dicky-doo-dah, bring the corn husker!” Trinity, who Dennis realizes is going to be hogging the bathroom tonight, and probably tomorrow morning, cheers. 

Dennis groans, head dipping down in embarrassment. Poor Robby, and poor random stranger that happens to be from Nebraska- and poor HIM! He was just getting into a vibe with Robby. It was finally happening!

“Meeeet your fellow Nebraskan!” Javadi giggles, fluttering her fingers at the man who Dennis refuses to look up and meets the eyes of out of pure shame. 

“I am soooo sorry, I don’t know these people at all, actually.” Dennis says, lifting his head to glower at Trinity, and to finally look at the poor soul they’ve kidnapped. “I’m Den--”

------------ 

You weave through the crowd, trying to surf your way to the bar. It’s your first night out since you’ve gotten to Pittsburgh, and it’s… Different. People here are loud, and expressive- unabashedly themselves, and proud about it. It reminds you of if New Jersey and San Francisco had a baby (both cities you’ve traveled through in the past decade).

Somebody shoulder checks you without apology, knocking you into someone who squeals. “Ope, I am so sorry,” you gasp, setting your fingers over your lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yes I’m fine--”

“Dude! Major party foul!” A much more offended lady grabs the one you bumped into, pulling her into her side. “Seriously!”

“I’m sorry, again. I’ll buy you a round,” you promise, wincing at her raised tone. “I’m--”

“You shoulda lead with that guy! Free drinks,” the black haired lady wiggles her shoulder, bumping the other one. “I’m Trinity, this is Crash, aka Javadi, aka Vicky!”

“Just Javadi is fine,” Javadi giggles, shrugging away Trinity. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to buy us drinks,” she says, waving her hands through the air. 

You laugh as Trinity elbows her, introducing yourself. “No, I insist, I’ve got y’all covered,” you laugh, waving down a bartender. He’s handsome, and based on the way he looks you over, you figure he feels the same way about you; his eyes on you makes your skin crawl a little. “Another round for these two.. Please?”

“Anything for you,” he nods, quickly sliding two bright, umbrellaed drinks in front of them. “What about you? You want anything, babe?”

“No. No, thank you,” you deny, sitting down on one of the glittery, leather chairs. 

“You don’t drink?” Trinity asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Lameeee-o, but respectable.”

“Not in unfamiliar places, no, I don’t,” you tell her, shoulders easing under the weight of her arm. 

“You’re not from the big PA?” Trinity questions, turning slightly to look at you.

“No, haha. I’m from the small NE- Nebraska,” you clarify, regaining Javadi’s attention, and making Trinity’s eyes go wide as dishplates. 

“NO WAY! We have a friend from Nebraska, maybe you know him!” You snort at her, grunting as her hands come down heavily on your shoulders. “He’s super cute, and a doctorrrr. We are too- not yet technically, we’ve still got a few years of residency. Which is booooo.”

“Very ‘boooo’,” Javadi chimes in with a heavy nod, leaning over to join the conversation. “What do you do? Are you a farmer?” 

“No, no, not a farmer. Left my corn husking days behind forever ago. I just… Drift, I guess? I’ve travelled a lot, nowhere’s stuck.”

“No place like home?” Jadavi asks, her lips slightly pursed, downturned in thought, almost.

“No place like home,” you acquiesce quietly, staring at the sparkling blue glass top. “Anywayyy! I do like it here, in Pittsburgh, it’s nice. Been here a few weeks, think I’ll be staying a while.”

“Well, you have two new friends, sooooo I hope you do stick around,” Javadi comes around to your other side, squeezing you tightly between them. “And you might have more, we should go introduce you to the others! Our other coworkers are somewhere around here, Joy, and Emma- she’s a sweetie.”

“Yesss, let’s go introduce you to our huckleberry! We’ll see if you know him!” Trinity claps, disappearing into the crowd. 

You and Javadi laugh, watching her leave; you don’t have long before she’s pulling you out of your stool, dragging you along with her at the sound of Trinity’s voice. “You’ll like him! He’s super sweet.”

You bump into her again when she stops, “Meeeet your fellow Nebraskan!” Javadi giggles, fluttering her fingers all around you. 

“I am soooo sorry, I don’t know these people at all, actually.” The man groans, face hidden by his hands. “I’m Den--”

“Dennis.”

You can’t breathe as you meet blue eyes that are all too familiar. Except they're not familiar, not really. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’d never once seen, a warmth in his smile that was always so dim.

“... Hi.”

“Hi.”

Your lips part to say something, but you don’t. What can you? ‘I missed you’? ‘How have you been?’ ‘I hate you for what you did’? ‘Why are you here in Pittsburgh?’ 

“I--”

“You do know each other! See? I knew it, everybody knows everybody in Nebraska,” Trinity shrugs, jerking your attention away from Dennis. “How do you guys know each other?”

“We were best--”

“We grew up down the street from each other, Broken Bow’s a small town,” Dennis interjects, looking at you, then Trinity, then the man next to him, and back to you. He frowns slightly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Our families were close.”

“Yeah… Our families,” you mumble, now focused on the man who has his arm around Dennis. Is he why Dennis just lied? Is he ashamed of you- or himself? 

“Well, a friend of Whitaker’s is a friend of mine. Michael Robinavitch,” the man Dennis is tucked into finally speaks, leaning forward with his hand outreached. “You can call me ‘Robby’, though. Everyone does.”

“Nice to meet you, Robby. Do you work with Trinity and Javadi?” You ask, forcing a smile on your face as you shake his hand.

“I do, yes. I’m one of the senior attendings at PTMC. So, I’m like their boss,” Robby laughs lightly, pulling his hand away from yours to settle it back onto Dennis's shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “Dennis is my favorite. Don’t tell everyone else.”

“What?” A.) You have no clue what ‘PTMC’ is. B.) Why would Dennis be Robby’s favorite? That implies Dennis works with Trinity and Javadi, which would mean he’s.. A doctor. 

“I’m a doctor, at the ER- or an ER. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.” Dennis answers, avoiding your eyes. “I’m a year one resident this year.”

“Oh. T-that’s great, Dennis,” you breathe out, heart skipping a beat. He’s a doctor. He got out of Broken Bow, he got out. “Really great. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. They’re dimmer, like you’ve dimmed him by being around.

“So! You and Dennis clearly need to do some catching up, why don’t you sit?” Robby offers, gesturing at the empty side of their table. “You can tell me all about Dennis when he was a kid. I’m sure you’ve got loads of embarrassing stories.” 

The way Robby grins at Dennis makes your heart clench. The way Dennis lights up, laughing and elbowing him, makes you a little sick. “I think I should go, actually. I don’t want to impose, this is obviously some sort of coworkers night out!” Just coworkers. Only coworkers.

“It’s no worries, at all,” Robby promises, waving a hand at the chairs again. “Please.”

“No, I really--”

“Stay.. Please?” Dennis catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Please?” He pleads again, tugging on your sleeve.

Your hands tremble slightly, but you nod, “I can stay.” You shouldn’t, but you’re going to. All because Dennis asked. Just like before. 

“Fantastic!” Trinity chirps, cozying into the chair next to you. “Tell us about little Huckleberry, what was he like? Was he an evil twerp?”

Dennis groans in embarrassment, scrunching his nose up at you like you’re sharing an inside joke. “I wasn’t, thank you very much!”

“No, he was a goody two-shoes,” you snort, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. “He really was.”

“Pssh, lame. I’m gonna go catch up with the others if there’s nothing funny to hear about Huck Finn,” Trinity sighs, standing right back up with a groan. “Have fun!”

That slight moment of reprieve dissipates the moment Trinity is gone, leaving you, Dennis, and Robby in an awkward silence. Or you in awkward silence while Dennis and Robby whisper to each other in a way that suggests a little more than ‘coworkers’. 

“Dennis really has no stories?” Robby asks, turning to you once more. “No broken vases, late night hang outs, nothing?”

“No, nothing. Dennis was as good as they come. Not a sin to his name.” The pause Dennis has makes you immediately regret the wording. It’s true, though. You were always the sinner. 

“Not like you,” Dennis snorts, rolling his eyes, “Breaking your leg tryna climb up our barn.”

“Hey! You were on the roof too!” You gasp in mock offense, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“I had a ladder!” Dennis reminds you, throwing his hands up, crossing them over his chest.

“I knew that… eventually!” You laugh, sticking your chin up at him. You wanted to hang out with Dennis while he tried to fix the barn’s roof, and instead of asking Dennis for help, you decided to try and scale the Whitaker barn. It ended with you on your ass, and your leg bent unnaturally. “Took six-fucking-weeks to heal.”

“You two sound awfully close,” Robby pipes in, an amused smile on his face. No jealousy, no accusations, just an observation, but Dennis clams up anyway.

“I guess,” he shrugs, cuddling closer to Robby. They’re incredibly close, closer than Dennis would ever sit next to you, ever. 

“So do you guys,” you comment, quite the opposite tone from Robby. You’re jealous of Robby, of how Dennis just leans into him, in public, like there’s nothing he wants to hide. “How long has Dennis been at the P.. PMTC?”

“PTMC.” Robby corrects, twisting his finger into one of Dennis's curls. “Two years. He came to the Pitt as a year-4, and has stayed with us for his first year of residency.” 

“That’s great. How long do you plan on staying at ‘The Pitt’, Dennis?” You ask, genuinely curious. Does Dennis plan on going back to Nebraska? Is he going to go somewhere else?

“How long do you?” Dennis retorts, face blank as he stares at you. “How long have you been in Pittsburgh to begin with?”

“I’m not sure, Dennis. Do you have a problem with me living here?” You question, brows furrowing slightly. “A few weeks, almost a month. Came down from Maine.”

------------ 

Maine. Why were you in Maine? Dennis wants to ask, he wants to ask a lot of things, he has so many questions for you, but no idea how to ask them without words he doesn’t mean spilling out. 

“No, I don’t have a problem with you living here. I just don’t know why you do. You never mentioned wanting to live in Pittsburgh,” Dennis explains, clearly getting defensive. He doesn’t mean to, but here he is.

 “That’s nice, are you settling in well?” Robby asks, drawing Dennis back in. He’s so sweet. If only he knew.

“Fantastically,” you grit out, still staring at Dennis. He swears you’re trying to burn holes into his already damned soul. 

“Do you have a job?- If you ever need one, we could always use more nurses,” Robby jokes, jostling Dennis slightly.

“I’ve got a job,” you laugh awkwardly, smiling at Robby the same way you used to smile at your guy's pastor. Dennis recognizes it all too well. “Even if I didn’t, I don’t think I could handle being a nurse.”

“Considering you passed out the first time my pa had you around to help with calving, probably not,” Dennis mutters, sipping on his--or Robby’s, technically--whiskey. 

“A fainter, huh? Don’t worry, we’ve got one of our own,” Robby hums, jutting his head in the direction Javadi last was. 

Dennis watches the gears in your head turn, before it finally clicks. “... Crash.”

“Yeah, that’s what Trin’ likes to call her,” Dennis confirms, staring at the golden liquid.

 “Speaking of Trinity, it’s getting late, so I’m gonna go find her, so I can get everyone another round,” Robby says, dragging a finger over Dennis's neck, bringing his head up with a sly smirk. “I’ll get you something a little lighter than the whiskey,” Robby whispers to Dennis, leaning down, so his breath fans over Dennis's lips. “Don’t move.”

------------ 

Watching Robby kiss Dennis is torture, but seeing the pure happiness on Dennis’s face afterwards is worse. You’re happy for him. You are… You are. “You guys are together?”

“We’re just.. I don’t know what we are,” Dennis admits, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry, he shouldn’t have.. I shouldn’t- kissing in front of you was inappropriate.”

“It’s fine, Dennis. Really,” you tell him, crossing your arms over your chest. Neither of you say anything else, just looking at each other the same. exact. way you did that night. When you were begging Dennis to explain to them. “Do you love him?”

“I like him,” Dennis answers quietly. “A lot.”

“Enough to kiss him, obviously. Must’ve not liked me at all then,” you laugh softly, tearily. “I’m gonna go now. Tell Robby it was nice meeting him. Trinity and Javadi too.”

“I will,” Dennis nods, and he doesn’t try to stop you from leaving this time. You can feel his eyes on you; you don't look back to meet them.

------------ 

“Where’d your friend go?” Trinity asks, returning with a tray of drinks, alongside all their friends. 

“He had to go,” Dennis tells her, eyes fixated on the seat you were just in. He just let you walk away… Again. 

“Dang, we didn’t get his number,” Javadi pouts, plopping in the seat he’s looking at. “You don’t have his number, do you?”

“You could always try and catch him in the parking lot,” Joy points out, casually sipping a very bright and obnoxious drink that does not at all match her.  

“Ooh! Yeah, I’ll go--”

“I’ll go,” Dennis stands up a little too quickly, nearly knocking the chair backwards. “I’ll see if I can stop him.”

You’re standing at the curb when Dennis leaves the club, staring out at the streets that are too busy for this time of night.

“... I loved you,” Dennis calls out, stopping a few feet away from you. 

You don’t look at him, and for a second he wonders if you didn’t hear him. “Ain’t gotta lie to me, Dennis. I’m an adult, I can take it,” you respond after a beat, tucking your hands in your pockets.”

You don’t believe him, of course you don’t. He can’t blame you. No one does what he did to the people they love. Except your own parents, and his parents… Maybe he doesn’t have the best idea of what love really is. 

“I did. I loved you. You were my best friend.” Dennis says, swallowing thickly.

“Your ‘best friend’,” you look at him, and the bright lights from the club reflect on your glassy eyes, and allow him to see the wavering of your smile. “Is that all I was?”

“I was scared, is that what you want me to say? I was a coward, and what I did to you was wrong. I regretted it every day.” Dennis tilts his head up, exhaling slowly. “Every day.”

------------ 

‘Every day’ he says. He regretted it. How sweet. Just like you remembered it, every day you didn’t wake up in your bed, in Broken Bow with everyone you’d ever known. 

“You don’t anymore?” You inquire, head tipping to the side slightly. 

“I do.”

“But?”

“But I wouldn’t be here--where I am today--if I went with you.”

There it is. Dennis was never going to take the fall with you, no matter how much you begged, or pleaded with him. Dennis got to be with his family every day because he wasn’t gay. Now he gets to be a doctor with his friends, and his boyfriend. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, Dennis. Truly, I am.”

“I hope you find yours.”

You won’t. It drowned in a sea of blue and red a long time ago. 

“Me too.”

- 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦: 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘉𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 (5/13/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘸𝘰: 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 (5/19/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦: 𝘋𝘳. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 & 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 (5/26/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳: 𝘛𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 (6/2/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦: 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 (6/9/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘪𝘹: ??? (6/16/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯: ??? (6/23/26) - 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘌𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵: ??? (6/30/26)

He has a crush on you. A nurse, his coworker. The prettiest woman he’s ever seen in his life. 

Its horrible. 

And he knows better, that’s the thing! He’s told himself time and time and time again that he would never do that. He’s seen coworkers’ relationships get fucked up and fail miserably. He’s seen cases of unrequited love that end in HR meetings and night shift swaps. All his crush will do cause drama and chaos in a place that is already too full of drama and chaos. 

And yet...

Dennis’ heart starts to pound wildly before he even fully registered that it’s you that is walking up to him. It’s like his body responds to you without him even meaning to, orbiting you like a planet to a sun every time you’re in his vicinity.

“Hi!” You greet happily, setting your tablet down and leaning against the counter as you look at him. Your smile is beautiful, and Dennis wishes he could sear the image of you into the backs of his eyelids. 

“Hi.”

“Your hair looks nice today,” Dennis blinks at your words, his brain stumbling and struggling over every syllable that leaves your mouth. It’s like his entire capacity for thinking vanishes the moment you lay your eyes on him. 

“What?” 

Your laugh is like a sound from heaven, and your hand falls onto his arm as you lean into the motion. His skin burns where yours touches it. “I said your hair looks nice. Why do you look so shocked?”

Well, shit. He feels as a blush flourishes over the skin of his face and neck. He’d bet money even the tips of his ears are bright red. You pull your hand away from his arm to tuck some hair behind your ear and he has to swallow back a sound that threatens to escape him at the loss of your touch. 

“I… I uh…” He shakes his head, no coherent thoughts able to form or produce themselves as words. “I washed it…”

You laugh again, even sweeter and more boisterous this time. 

If Dennis wasn’t… himself, he’d been sure you were trying to flirt with him. Instead, he feels like maybe you’re joking and he just doesn’t get it.

“Oh, Dr. Whitaker…” Your laugh turn into a fit of giggles that seem to have a hard time going away. “You’re so cute.”

Oh, you definitely have to be fucking with him again. There’s no way you aren’t laughing at him, that he isn’t the butt of some joke. 

You notice the moment his face falls. Yours does too, your smile slowly fading into a look of concern he’s really only ever seen directed at patients. It makes him feel exposed in a way that he hates, knowing you can read him so well, that he’s so obvious. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He wants to laugh. And cry. His stomach is in knots and he feels like he might puke. You’re making fun of him. Never once in his life has a girl like you given him attention, and there’s absolutely no way that you’re serious. The feeling gets under his skin, urgent and familiar.

“You can give it up now.” Your eyebrows furrow even further together at his words, and especially at the tone of them. “It’s not funny anymore, okay?”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyes dart quickly over different parts of his face, like you might somehow discover the answer there. 

Dennis purses his lips, and lowers his voice and his gaze. “I really wish you’d stop making fun of me.”

Something shifts in your expression, your face a mosaic of all sorts of things he can’t possibly know. It settles on something between hurt and pity. “Dennis, what are you talking about?”

He hardly notices the use of his first name, his tongue digging into the inside of his cheek as his gaze bounces around nervously to make sure no one is close enough to hear the two of you. He’d pull you aside into the stairwell if it wouldn’t be absolutely devastating to his already bruised and battered ego. “You keep saying things like that. But it’s not funny. Not to me.”

“Why do you think I’m joking?” You lean away from him, voice lower than he’s ever heard it. You look… devastated, if he’s being honest with himself. “Do you think I’m making fun of you?”

“Aren’t you?” The words leave his lips faster and more broken than he would ever admit. You don’t respond. Instead, you grab his wrist, and you lead him to the stairwell, away from prying eyes and ears. 

When you finally turn back to him, there’s a pain in your eyes that only makes him feel worse. “Do you really think I’m making fun of you?”

Dennis falters. Of course you’re making fun of him, you have to be. Because if you aren’t…

He can’t let his mind go down that route. He needs to squash this crush he has on you and any indication that you even find him tolerable would make his life a thousand times more difficult. 

You speak up again before he can muster up any kind of answer. “Do you really think I’m that cruel?” 

“You have to be.” The words aren’t purposeful, but he says them all the same. You blink, emotions swirling in your irises, and he stutters out another, “B-Because otherwise that… that means you mean it.” 

“I do mean it.” Somehow, your words hit even harder than his, and the entire world stills, everything gone but you and him. You reach out for his hand and Dennis feels like he might keel over. “I really mean it, I’m sorry if you thought I was making fun of you.” 

Dennis squeezes his eyes shut, his palm probably sweaty where it presses against your own. His stomach is in knots, his jaw clenches so hard he knows it’ll ache in the morning, but his heart feels lighter. Somehow, something about your admission makes him feel better despite it making the situation astronomically worse. 

“I’m sorry…” Is what he manages to choke out. “I shouldn’t have- I know you aren’t mean, I just…” His voice trails off when he meets your gaze again. He wonders what he looks like: bloodshot, puffy eyes, bright red nose, messy hair. And you, beautiful, perfect you, softly tilt your head, eyes still shining despite everything as you blink slowly. It makes his throat dry and he can’t find any more words.

You seem to realize he isn’t going to finish, and purse your lips. Your fingers twiddle mindlessly together, hands clasped in front of you. “I mean it.” You finally say again, confidently reaching a hand up to push a piece of his hair back into place. “Your hair does look nice. And you are cute.” 

Dennis thinks he might die. Like actually, truly might have a heart attack and die. “Th-Thanks.” 

You brighten, and if he hadn’t just been personally subjected to the previous upset in your expression, he would have never known you’d been upset at all. 

“I have some patients to check on.” Your hands gesture toward the stairwell door behind you, and Dennis gives you a dumbfounded nod. You turn to leave, but pause, steel your shoulders, and turn back to face him again. 

“Dr. Whitaker?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to go out for dinner after your shift?” 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

Dennis kisses you passionately as you straddle him in the driver’s seat. His hands glide from the back of your neck to your spine, and then eventually the curve of your ass.

You can’t help but moan in delight once he gives you a firm squeeze—almost as if he needed to in order to breathe.

Between your shared kisses and Dennis’ light panting, you’re sure the windows are starting to fog up. Barely any light enters the car between the dimly lit parking garage and the sun that is slow to wake. He can’t see all of your lovely features because of the shadows’ influx—but what he can see makes his heart skip a beat and his pants start to twitch.

Eyelashes tickle his cheeks as your closed eyes flutter ever-so slightly. Your urgency brings your brows to furrow; Dennis’ hand goes to caress the side of your face then lightly brushes the lobe of your ear. His touch reminds you of a dandelion that sways through the sky: both gentle and faint.

Your hands grip his scrubs tightly, as if your world were crumbling and your icy-blue-eyed man was your only salvation.

Once Dennis feels you start to pull away, he lets out a noise akin to a whine, murmuring a soft ‘no’ against your lips.

“Time check?” You ask breathily with a love-struck grin and a twinkling gaze before diving back into the enchanting pool that is Dennis’ lips.

He peers over your shoulder at the digital clock, blinking simultaneously as it shines the numbers ‘6:55’.

Dennis parts briefly to murmur, “Five minutes.”

You scan his face, eyes glinting with something Dennis reckons is far from innocence. “Think I can get you off in five?” You ask with an experimental roll of your hips. The doctor that sits beneath you groans and immediately places his hands on your hips, halting you from moving any more. “Jesus—” he huffs. “Y-you and I both know you can—oh god…” A gasp rips from his parted mouth.

He clears his throat sharply. “Angel, I cannot be two minutes i-into my shift and already change my scrubs..!” Dennis sighs as your tongue licks the side of his neck. “They’ll—mmn! They’ll know, baby,” Dennis whispers, because he knows that anything louder will display his growing need for you.

Your grinding stops and it takes everything in Dennis not to whine. You take your index finger and drag it down the slope of his nose, watching as his slightly glossy eyes follow your movements carefully.

“If you want me to stop, then I will, love.”

Dennis swallows, taking another peak at the clock.

6:57.

Three minutes until the two of you had to waltz into the ED and pretend as if you weren’t dry humping in the car.

Dennis knows his boner isn’t going away without a little help in three minutes.

“Oh fuck—please—” Dennis grits through his teeth before rolling your hips on his lap. You sigh and let your head tilt back for a second. Dennis grinds up into you with hurried movements; his chest rises and falls quickly as he pants.

“Fuck,” you whisper with an inhale. One of Dennis' hands lightly presses on your back, pushing you to the crook of his neck. “Oh god…” Dennis groans, voice oozing with rasp.

You lean back into him, kissing his lips with feverish intent. You’re starting to lose where you stop and where Dennis begins, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

That is, until the harsh rocking of your hips results in your ass hitting the steering wheel.

Specifically the horn.

“Holy—”

“Jesus chr—”

Teeth clash into each other; foreheads bump; curses leave mouths in flurried strings.

You’re quick to raise from Dennis' neck, gasping for air as you look down in shock. He looks equally as perplexed, but his stare bores over your shoulder.

You glance back and your eyes widen to the size of a saucer.

The corner of the parker garage is now being illuminated by the hazard lights on Dennis' car, which somehow turned on in your panicked frenzy.

You whip your head around the opposite way, nearly giving yourself whiplash as your finger scrambles to the button.

You feel Dennis sit up beneath you, and the two of you sigh in relief once the lights stop their blinking. You pinch your eyes shut, and when you open them, you take a second to look out of the windshield.

That’s when you realize that it didn’t matter how quickly you turned the hazards off—because the damage had already been done.

In front of you stands none other than Frank Langdon, who completely fails—though you don’t think he’s trying—to mask his state of pure and utter disbelief.

His shoulders are wound up tight; his palms face outwards, as if his astonishment won’t allow him to even close his fists; and if it were possible, his jaw would be completely on the floor.

You feel Dennis stiffen underneath you, and all you can do is gape at Frank like a fish out of water. The car is dead silent—you and Dennis can’t even let out a peep through your bated breath.

The brunette’s eyes flicker between you and Dennis before a mischievous smirk fixes its way onto his chiseled face.

“No—no,” you exclaim worrisomely, holding your hand out to the glass for Frank to ‘wait’ as he starts to walk backwards. You fumble to gather your bearings before opening the driver’s seat door.

Dennis sputters, “Wait! Baby—” but before he can finish, you’re hopping out of the car, trekking after the senior resident with ferocity Dennis has never seen you exhibit.

He sighs, running a hand over his face before adjusting his scrubs as he listens to the sound of your ranting grow faint.

Dennis comes in at 7:02 with his head down and an unusual pep in his step.

“Running from the cops, Huckleberry?” Trinity snorts when he passes by, but he doesn’t have the will to respond.

Despite the wave of doctors rolling in, Dennis finds himself relieved when he makes it back to the central hub without another question thrown in his direction.

“Hey, Prince Charming!” Frank chirps.

You hiss in Frank's direction. You want to walk over to Dennis when you hear him groan, but you decide to look at your clipboard for the upteenth time—you totally weren’t re-reading each word on the page waiting for Dennis to walk in. absolutely not!

Frank crosses his arms, glancing at his watch before setting his sights on your fiancé. “Few minutes late, Whitaker. Everything alright this morning?”

“Just fine,” Dennis mutters with annoyance.

Trinity muses, “Doesn’t sound fine.”

Frank suddenly laughs—it’s both loud and obnoxious. “Holy shit, Whitaker! Doesn’t look fine either, look at that!”

Both you and Dennis freeze as if the world had stopped. Your eyes shoot up to him and the two of you quickly discover the red-ish mark that adorns the side of his neck.

You’re too far away to see the teeth marks as well, but Trinity isn’t.

She’s quick to exclaim, “No fucking way!” This causes a few heads to turn, including Robby's as he looks over quizzedly for a beat. Dennis immediately shushes Trinity with a finger to his lips and a hand shooting outwards.

“Both of you keep it down, please!”

Frank hums. “Bet you couldn’t keep it down in the car with Sunshine, huh, Dennis?"

Trinity guffaws, “Oh-ho, this is good!” She leans in—which is an unusual sight for you all.

Frank murmurs, despite Dennis' protesting, “Saw those two getting frisky in the parking garage like 10 minutes ago.” he points between you and Dennis, and suddenly you’re fascinated by the boring paint color of the Pitt. “Clumsy asses honked the horn,” he adds with a snicker.

Trinity has a cocky grin on her face. “Y’know, this is the first time you’ve proven yourself useful,” she says, watching as the smirk on Frank's face dim slightly whilst he tilts his head at her.

“But you two,” she whips her head around in your direction since Dennis had gradually gravitated towards you, her ponytail swishing with her every move. “You two—are bad,” she huffs a laugh.

Frank hears his name called from the opposite direction and starts to head over, but not before grinning and saying, “Next time you decide to bring your sexcapades to work, bring some concealer, yeah?”

You clear your throat instantly, looking down at your clipboard. Dennis' face beats cherry red, making Trinity laugh once again before pulling her phone out from the pocket of her scrubs.

She then takes a picture of Dennis' face before he can stop her. “This is laugh of the week, Huckleberry! Oh my god!” She then struts away with a newfound sense of joy.

“So,” Dennis whistles, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous tick of his that stemmed from Robby. “It could be worse…”

Dana then makes her presence known, peering over her glasses. “Kid, nothing could be worse than getting caught in a supply closet.” She then walks away with a small smirk gracing her lips, leaving both you and Dennis to stutter out in defense.

Yeah, next time, you’ll leave the quickies for the mornings at home.

Maybe.

You remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. The cold porcelain of the toilet seat under your thighs. The pregnancy test stick clutched in your trembling fingers while you tried to aim. The uncertainty that made every sound echo louder in your tiny studio apartment, the best place a med student could afford. The steady drip-drip-drip from the leaky faucet. The nervous pacing of Robby’s footsteps just behind the thin wooden door.

“You good in there?” he asked, you could picture him leaning in, pressing his ear against the wood like he could somehow hear your thoughts.

You quickly wiped away the silent tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. “Yeah…” Your voice came out shaky and small. “Yeah. I’m done.”

You wiped, flushed the toilet, and stood up on unsteady legs, pulling your pants back on. Carefully, you set the cup and the pregnancy test on the edge of the sink before washing your hands.

“Can I come in?” Robby asked from the other side. Guilt was already eating him alive. This was his fault. He should have been the one guiding you, teaching you how to become a great doctor. Instead, he had jeopardized everything,  your education, your career, your future. Now, because of him, you were taking a pregnancy test in a cramped bathroom, wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life if two pink lines appeared.

You didn’t answer with words. You simply walked to the door, opened it, and stepped aside so he could enter. “It says three to five minutes,” you murmured, nodding toward the test resting on the sink.

“How—” Robby cleared his throat when his voice threatened to crack. “How are you feeling?”

“Scared?” The word came out like a question. Truthfully, you didn’t even know if “scared” was the right word. What was the right word for finding yourself in a situation you’d never wanted, knowing it was your own damn fault? You should have been more careful. You should have said yes the first time he asked about wearing a  condom. You should have told him to pull out instead of moaning “fill me up, Robby” every single time like you had lost all sense. 

You knew the odds. You knew the risks. But when he was inside you, none of that had mattered. And now destiny was laughing in your face. You had no plan. If you were pregnant… what then? Goodbye to med school. Goodbye to your dream of graduating and matching into emergency medicine. You’d probably have to move back in with your parents and spend your days raising a child instead of becoming a doctor. And goodbye to Robby, because why would a man like him want to stay tied to the med student he’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the baby he never asked for?

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, soaking your cheeks instantly. You tried to stay quiet, but the sobs broke free anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey… come here.” Robby closed the distance in one step. The heat of his body wrapped around you like a shield. He slid one strong arm around your waist, anchoring you against his solid frame, and the other hand cradled the back of your head. “It’s perfectly normal to be scared. But you’ve got me. You’re not alone in this.”

“What are we—” Another sob escaped, muffled against his shoulder. “What am I gonna do, Robby? What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever feels right,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You’re supposed to do whatever you want to do. You have all the choices.”

“But which one is the right one?” You pressed harder into him, as if you could disappear into his chest. “Which one won’t make you hate me?”

“Jesus— Look at me.” He gently cupped your face with both hands, lifting it from his chest so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His own were red and watery. “Let me say this once, and I need you to hear me. I could never hate you. None of this is your fault. It’s no one’s fault… this just happens, okay? If the test is positive, then… it’s not the end of the world. We’ve got options. We have time to think about it.”

“Then why does it feel like it is the end of the world?” You tried to hide your face again in the broad warmth of his chest, where your tears had already left a dark patch on his shirt. He wouldn’t let you. He kept your face cradled between his palms, one thumb softly stroking your cheek as he wiped away another tear. 

“Why does it feel like no matter what I choose, you’ll end up resenting me for it?”

“I won’t,” he assured you again, his voice steady even though you could feel how hard he was trying. “You have to think about what you want. Nothing is more important than that. I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

“What if I don’t want to keep it?” The words tumbled out. “Wouldn’t you feel like… like I took something away from you? Wouldn’t you think I’m selfish?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, his warm lips making you shiver. Then your cheek, tasting your tears. Then your lips, reassuringly. “If the test is positive and you choose to terminate 6he pregnancy, I wouldn’t think that makes you selfish. I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person or that you’re stealing something from me. I’d think you’re strong. I’d think you’re being brave. And I’d be right there with you.”

The calmness in his voice steadied you a little. You could tell he was terrified, probably having a panic attack on the inside, but he was pouring every ounce of strength into not showing it. He wanted to be the rock you could lean on, the one who had answer, who knew what to do, who’d be there to support you no matter what.

“Is that what you’d want?” he murmured against your lips. “An abortion?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, so softly he might not have heard if he weren’t so close. “But… maybe it’s the only right choice. What would I even do with a baby? I’d have to drop out of med school… I’d fall so far behind. Raising a baby… I don’t know when I could even go back.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know?” he said gently. “A lot of women finish their studies while pregnant. They work while being moms too. Think of Dr. Shamsi, she finished her residency while—”

You knew he meant well, but right now the last thing you needed was a pep talk about strong women. “Yeah, well, I’m not Dr. Shamsi, Robby,” you cut in, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I don’t think I can do it. And I can’t… I can’t put that weight on you. That burden. A child, Robby. I’d feel so guilty knowing I trapped you.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. He pulled back just enough to really look at you. “Trap me? Jesus fuck… do you even hear yourself? When have I ever made you feel like you’d be trapping me?” 

His tone edged toward anger, which only made your own flare up. “You didn’t ask for this! You’d be stuck with a child you never even wanted just because I didn’t want to get rid of it!” You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and stared at the floor instead.

“A child…” He let out a slow breath. “A child doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” The words he’d been too afraid to even think until now finally slipped out. “Yeah, it would be difficult. Yeah, it would be a fucking challenge. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared. But I don’t think a baby would be the worst thing to ever happen. Not by far.” 

He’d be lying if he said he had never dreamed of having a child, of becoming a father. In his mid-twenties, he had pictured it so differently. Finding the love of his life, getting married, waiting a year or two before having their first baby, then another one soon after. A proper family. But life had gotten in the way, long hours in the ED, the weight of responsibility, his own fears and insecurities reshaping the entire trajectory of his existence. Time slipped through his fingers, and before he knew it, the dream had been pushed further and further into the distance. Definitely not like this, a baby at forty-nine with the fourth-year med student he’d been sleeping with in a messy situationship for only a few months… that was never part of the plan. And yet, as that pregnancy test sat on the edge of the sink, the possibility grew heavier, more real. Maybe this was how it was meant to happen. Maybe the universe had finally caught up with him. Maybe it was time to stop running, time to stop hiding, and finally commit to something bigger than work. Something that actually mattered. Something that’d change his life and give it a new meaning, a new purpose.

“You’re saying you’d want it?” you asked, surprise flashing in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. “If I were pregnant… you’d want the baby?”

“I’m saying I want you to do what you want. But yeah… if you chose to keep it, then I’d want it too. I’m in, 100%.” Behind the fear in his voice, you heard absolute certainty.

“And how would that even look?” you asked quietly. “How would we do it?”

“If we’re doing it, we do it right. Together.” He took your hands in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “You could move in with me. Once the baby’s born, we’d arrange our shifts so one of us is always with them. We’d get a sitter to help us so you can still have time to do your residency. You have me. You’ll have me every step of the way.”

“Promise?” you whispered.

“Promise.”

Silence stretched between you, as if the rest of the world had stopped spinning. In that tiny bathroom, it was just the two of you, holding each other’s hands with the promise of facing whatever came next together.

“I think it’s been over five minutes,” Robby said finally, glancing toward the sink. “Want to check?”

You nodded, and Robby released one of your hands, picked up the test, and held it between you without looking at the result yet. “Together?” he asked.

You swallowed. “Together.”

The imposing voice of Dana cut through the fog in your mind. “Earth to you… hello?”

You blinked, startled, and reluctantly dragged your eyes away from the computer screen where you’d been pretending to chart for the last ten minutes. Dana was leaning against the nurses’ station counter with one hip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Are you even listening to me right now? Because I’ve been talking to myself for five minutes. What’s up with you? You look like you didn’t close an eye last night.”

You forced a small, nervous laugh and quickly looked back down at the computer, hoping the glow of the screen would hide the exhaustion on your face. “Sorry… I slept okay,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and unbothered. You weren’t fooling anyone, least of all Dana. You could feel her eyes studying you, taking in the faint shadows under your eyes, the slight slump of your shoulders, and the way you kept subtly shifting in your chair. Because no matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your body was still painfully aware of last night. The ghost of Robby’s thrusts still lingered between your thighs, a delicious ache that refused to fade even twelve hours later. 

Every time you moved, you were reminded of how hard he had taken you, how thoroughly he had ruined you. Your muscles were sore in the best and most inconvenient way possible. You crossed your legs under the desk, trying to ignore the throb that pulsed through you at the memory. The last thing you needed was Dana figuring out why you were so distracted. Unfortunately, Dana had the observational skills. She narrowed her eyes even further, tilting her head as she continued to stare at you. “Yeah… sure you did.”

Dana drifted his gaze past your shoulder down the corridor. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, lifting her brows a fraction and her mouth twitching like she’d tasted something sour. You followed her line of sight to Robby, striding toward trauma two, wearing his navy scrubs and cargo pants. There was a loose, easy roll to his shoulders, a confidence in his steps that screamed satisfaction. The corners of his mouth were curved in a half-smile that was the unmistakable “I got laid and it was fucking amazing” look.

Dana let out a dry huff of laughter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus. I hate when he walks around with that ‘I got laid and it was amazing’ face. It’s obnoxious as hell. Makes the rest of us feel like we’re doing it wrong.”

You kept your face carefully neutral, tapping your fingers against the keyboard, but without writing anything. “Maybe he’s just in a good mood.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that. You know that face, it’s always the same with that man.” Dana tilted her head, studying him as he paused to talk with Victoria, that satisfied smile lingering a beat too long. She narrowed her eyes, thinking hard for a second, then her head snapped back toward you when realization hit him. “Wait a minute… That face. That exact face is too familiar. It’s not just his regular ‘I got some’ look. That’s the same damn face he used to wear back when you two were sneaking around four years ago. And I haven’t seen it on him once since you two called it quits. Not a single time.”

Heat flooded your cheeks instantly. You felt cornered, exposed, like a deer caught in headlights. Dana ran this place, nothing escaped her eyes. Trying to lie to her was usually pointless, she could smell bullshit from miles away. “I– I really need to finish these charts,” you stammered. “I promised Hannah I’d try to get home early so we could—” The excuse died on your tongue, it sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

She looked at you like she’d already decided you were guilty. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?”

She snorted. “You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”

You exhaled through your nose, dropping your shoulders in defeat. You glanced around the nurse station. It was quiet, no one close enough to overhear, then leaned in just a fraction.“Okay,” you muttered. “It was one time. One weak moment. I’m not doing it again.”

Dana didn’t t look surprised, just disappointed in the resigned way of someone who’s watched this film before and knew how it ended . “You’re so stupid,” she said, almost fondly. “Letting that mess of a man back in again.”

“I know.” You rubbed a hand over your face, wishing you could teleport anywhere but here. “I know. I’m just… so weak when it comes to him. He’s got this way of looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, and the way he touches me…” You trailed off. “God, Dana, you don’t know how good it is. How he remembers every single—”

She held up a hand with the palm out. “Stop. Right there. I do not need the details. I’ve worked with that man for the last 20 years of my life, and I still got to work with him for the next eight hours. Spare me the play-by-play.”

“Sorry. It’s just… it felt like coming home, you know? And then this morning reality hit like a truck. And I realized I fucked up last night.”

Dana studied you for a long beat, and her expression softened just a fraction, enough to show the concern underneath.“Honey,” she said quietly, “you’re not weak. You’re human. And that man has always known exactly which buttons to push with you. But you’ve built something solid these last five years. Don’t throw that away because the sex is good.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I told him it was a one-time thing. A relapse. I’m not doing it again. I swear.”

Dana arched her eyebrow high. “You swear.”

“Yeah.” You met her eyes even if your stomach twisted. You were embarrassed to let anyone know about your poor life choices, but if you could trust anyone, that was Dana, one of the only people who’d been here since the start of your story with him. “Last night was… it was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

She studied you for a long beat, then she pushed off the counter, stepping closer and dropping her voice to that tone she used when she’s done playing nice.“You'd better not. Go out. Meet someone. Anyone whose last name isn’t Robinavitch. Someone who can actually commit to a relationship.”

You looked down at your hands, still faintly wrinkled from too much hand sanitizer, a nervous habit you’d gotten out of him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy,” she countered. “But it’s supposed to be possible. Find a guy who doesn’t bolt after a month because he ‘feels trapped’ and ‘needs space.’ Someone who doesn’t look at commitment like it’s an impossible mission. Someone who stays.”

The words sting because they’re true. Robby never lied about it, he’d told you early on he wasn’t built for the long haul, that relationships felt like another thing he’d inevitably fuck up. And when Hannah came along, when the exhaustion and the shifts and the fear piled up, he didn’t fight to keep you together. He just… drifted. Back to separate houses, separate beds, separate lives. 

“Hon, you know Robby was not made for a relationship. He’s a great dad, nobody’s arguing that. The man would walk through fire for that little girl. But you? He loves you in the way he knows how: sporadically. And that’s never gonna change. Keep it that way. Keep him in the dad column. Don’t let him back into the partner one.”

You rubbed your temples, the ache from last night’s lack of real sleep settling in behind your eyes. “I know. I do. It’s just… when he’s there, when he’s touching me, talking to me like I’m still his… it’s like the last five years never happened. Like we could pick up where we left off.”

“That’s the trap,” Dana said quietly. “It feels like home because it used to be. But homes can be haunted too.”

In the days that followed, you did everything you could to avoid Robby. At work, you kept your distance, volunteering for procedures on the opposite side of the ED whenever possible and burying yourself in charts or patient updates the moment you felt his presence nearby. Because every single time your eyes met his, even for a brief second, your body betrayed you.

You remembered the crushing weight of him on top of you that night, the way he’d fucked you into the mattress like the world was ending. You remembered how perfectly your bodies still moved together, how easily he could pull those broken sounds from your throat. Years had passed, but the fire between you hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it was burning brighter and hotter than ever, threatening to consume every boundary you had built.

Thankfully, Robby seemed to sense your need for space and didn’t push. He gave you room to breathe at the hospital, only speaking to you when a case genuinely required collaboration. His tone stayed strictly professional, his touches nonexistent. He still called every evening like clockwork to talk to Hannah, but with you he remained carefully polite, never lingering, never teasing, never crossing the lines you had drawn. 

You should have been relieved. He was finally respecting your wishes, he was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and yet… on nights like this, when Hannah was at his place for her half of the week, the silence in your house felt suffocating. The emptiness pressed in from every corner. No little footsteps pattering down the hallway, no giggles echoing from the living room. Just you, alone in the quiet, with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. And your mind refused to shut off, It buzzed loudly, relentlessly, replaying every moment of that night in vivid detail, the heat of Robby’s skin, the burn of his beard against your neck, the groan in your ear when he came undone inside you. 

You kept hearing his promises afterward: that he was a changed man, that this time he wanted you for real. Not out of duty because he’d gotten you pregnant. Not because he felt trapped by responsibility. But because he truly wanted to be with you, because he loved you. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. There were moments, weak and dangerous moments when you wished you could be reckless enough to fall for every word that came out of his mouth. To let yourself be dumb and hopeful and blind, just like you were five years ago.

Maybe you would have risked it if you were the only one who would get hurt when everything inevitably fell apart. You could survive a broken heart, you’d done it before. But Hannah couldn’t, she was innocent in all of this. She didn’t deserve to watch her parents try and fail again, to feel the instability, the confusion, the heartbreak of seeing her mother and father almost become a family, only for it to crumble. You refused to gamble with your daughter’s emotional safety just because you still craved the man who once broke your heart.

The knock on the door came right on time, just as the late afternoon sun was starting to slant through the living room windows. You were still in your scrubs, hair thrown up in a messy bun, when you opened the door to find Robby standing there with Hannah perched on his hip, her little pink backpack slung over his shoulder, making him look both silly and endearing at the same time, and her head resting sleepily against his chest.

“Hey,” Robby said softly. “We’re here.”

Hannah’s face lit up the second she saw you. “Mommy!” She reached both arms out, already wiggling to get to you. Robby shifted her gently into your arms, brushing his hand against your side in the process. The brief contact sent an unwelcome spark through you that you immediately tried to ignore.

“Hi, baby girl,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft brown hair, she smelled like the strawberry shampoo Robby always used on her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy?”

“We had a great time,” Robby answered for her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He set her little backpack down by the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, looking unusually hesitant. 

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about something.”

You raised an eyebrow, bouncing Hannah lightly on your hip as she played with the collar of your top. “That sounds ominous.”

He let out a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not ominous. Just… I’m thinking of taking some days off work. Vacation days.” Your surprise must have shown on your face because Robby quickly continued. “I’ve been thinking about taking her somewhere warm. She’s been talking about the beach nonstop lately. There’s this resort in Mexico I’ve been looking at, very kid-friendly, right on the beach. Thought it might be nice for her to run around in the sand and actually see the ocean.”

Robby had never been one to take vacations. For most of his life, work had consumed him completely. He was drowning in the ED, the never-ending stream of patients, the constant pressure of being the one everyone relied on. There was always something more important, and a quiet voice in the back of his head constantly whispered that everything would crumble if he wasn’t there to hold it all together. He had never felt the pull to travel, no place ever seemed worth leaving the hospital for. Nothing could impress him or hold his attention long enough to make him want to step away. His entire identity had been tied to the job for so long that the idea of doing anything else felt foreign, almost selfish.

That was before Hannah arrived, she changed everything. From the moment she came into his life, Hannah gave him something he had never truly had before, and that was real purpose. She became the reason he woke up every single day determined to be better, to be the kind of father she deserved. The person who had to stay strong and healthy because she depended on him for everything, from teaching her how to tie her shoes, to how to be kind, how to stand up for herself. 

But Hannah had given him more than just purpose. She had awakened in him a brand-new desire to actually live. For the first time in years, his world expanded beyondwork. He wanted to do things, he wanted to see things, and more than anything, he wanted to experience them with her. His life no longer felt like it should revolve solely around the ED, he craved as much free time as he could carve out so he could share it with his daughter, watching her discover the world. He refused to miss even a single moment of her childhood while she was still small and everything felt unique to her. Hannah had unknowingly pulled him out of the endless cycle of work and survival. 

And that was how the trips began. Beach days where Hannah squealed at the waves and collected seashells in her bucket. Lazy summer afternoons fishing at a lake. Winter weekends at a cabin resort in the mountains, where they built snowmen in the backyard and drank hot chocolate by the fire. Whatever Hannah wanted to do, Robby made it happen.

You nodded slowly, processing the information. You dropped Hannah off carefully on the floor, and she immediately walked to her bedroom, mumbling something about saying hello to her stuffed animals. “Mexico… That sounds really nice for her. When were you thinking?”

“Probably in a couple of weeks, if I can get the time approved. I’d take about a week.”  He paused, watching your expression carefully. “Are you okay with that? With me taking her?”

“Yeah,” you said without hesitation. “Of course I’m okay with it. She’ll love it. Just make sure you send me all the flight information and the hotel details once you have them. I want to know exactly where she’ll be and how to reach you.”

“Already planning on it,” he assured you. “I’ll send everything as soon as it’s booked.” A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Then Robby shifted his weight and looked at you again, something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes. “Actually… I wanted to ask you something else.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a tell you knew too well. “Would you want to come with us?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I’d pay for everything,” he added quickly. “Your flight, your room. You don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been working insane hours lately with residency. It might be good for you to get away for a few days, too. Relax. Sleep in.”

The offer hung in the air between you, and for one brief second, you let yourself imagine it. You pictured the three of you on a beach in Mexico. Hannah running barefoot through the warm sand, her hair messy from the ocean breeze, laughing with pure joy every time a wave came close enough to tickle her toes. You saw yourself and Robby sitting nearby on lounge chairs, drinking margaritas while the sun kissed your skin. The sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, lulling you into a nap you hadn’t allowed yourself in years. 

After surviving on less than six hours a night for so long, the mere idea of lying back on a lounge chair and actually resting felt almost sinful. Vacations had always been a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not with the mountain of student loans, the demands of your residency, and the constant juggle of motherhood. The thought of taking time off just to relax had felt selfish, unrealistic, and completely out of reach. And now Robby was offering it all on a silver platter.

You quickly shoved the beautiful images away before they could take root and make you weak. Because that was the problem with Robby’s offer, it wasn’t just a vacation. It was a week of playing house, of blurred lines, and of watching him be the devoted father he had become, while your stupid heart remembered exactly how good things used to feel when the three of you were almost a real family.

“Robby…” You let out a slow breath. “Thank you. Really. That’s incredibly generous. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He furrowed his brow slightly. “Why not?”

“Because going on a vacation like that, the three of us,  it would be confusing. For her, especially. If we’re sharing space like a family for a whole week, she might start getting ideas about us getting back together. I don’t want to give her false hope. And it’d be confusing for us two, we need to keep our distance after… You know what.”

Robby’s jaw tightened for a moment, but his voice stayed calm. “We can get separate rooms. Hell, we don’t even have to hang out the whole time if you don’t want to. You could do your own thing, be at a different pool, get spa treatments, whatever. I’m not asking you to pretend we’re a couple. I just… I want to do this for you. You deserve a break too.”

You shook your head, even as a small, traitorous part of you ached at how sincere he sounded. “No, Robby. Thank you, but no. It’s sweet of you to offer, but it’s too complicated. We’ve worked really hard to keep things stable and clear for Hannah. Mixing a family vacation into that… it blurs too many lines. I appreciate it, I really do. But I think it’s better if it’s just the two of you.”

He watched you for a long moment, something like disappointment passing across his face, a quiet frustration he tried so hard to hide. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Message received. I’ll just take her, then. But the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

You gave him a grateful smile, even though your chest felt tight from how much you wanted to say yes, because of how much you wished that maybe in another life, Robby and you could be those parents sunbathing in Mexico with their kid. “I won’t. But thank you.”

He nodded once, lingering for another few seconds like he wanted to say more, but decided that by pushing too hard to get close to you again, he’d only end up pushing you away. “I’ll text you the details as soon as everything’s booked.”

“Sounds good.”

Before heading toward the door, Robby paused. He gave you one last long look, the kind that always managed to slip past every defense you’d carefully built over the years. In that single glance, you were flooded with memories you spent most days trying desperately not to dwell on. Memories from five years ago, back when everything still felt possible. Back when you still believed, with naive, foolish hope, that the two of you could somehow make it work.

And then there were the much more dangerous memories from just two weeks ago, the night where, for a few stolen hours, it felt like the rest of the world had simply stopped existing. His hands on your body like he still owned every inch of it, the way he’d whispered your name against your skin, the overwhelming feeling that you had teleported back in time, back to when it was just the two of you. For those few hours, you had let yourself believe again. You had let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could still be a “we” in your future.

A couple of days later, you heard the knock of the door echo through the house just as you were finishing packing Hannah’s favorite stuffed capybara into her little backpack. You opened the door to find Robby standing on the porch. Hannah immediately squealed at the sight of him.

“Daddy!” She bolted forward, launching herself into his arms. Robby caught her with ease, laughing as he lifted her high and spun her once before settling her on his hip. “Hey, angel,” he said, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. “You ready for Daddy’s house?”

You stepped aside to let them both in, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you watched the usual handoff routine unfold. Hannah was buzzing with energy, clutching Robby’s shirt with her little hands. “Daddy, Daddy! Are we really going to the beach soon?” she asked with her eyes wide, full of pure excitement. “With the ocean and the sand?”

Robby grinned, the kind of soft and genuine smile he only ever wore for her. “We sure are, baby girl. I already picked out a really nice hotel. It’s right on the beach. Want me to show you the pictures later when we get home?”

“Yes!” Hannah bounced in his arms, practically vibrating. “Does it have a pool? And ice cream? And can I get a new swimsuit to wear?”

“It has a huge pool, and I’m pretty sure they have all the ice cream you can eat,” Robby answered patiently. He glanced over at you while still holding her. “I booked one of the family suites with a big balcony overlooking the ocean. You’re gonna love it, Han.”

Hannah gasped dramatically, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. “Mommy, did you hear? Daddy got a hotel with a balcony! For the ocean!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her pure joy, even as a knot started forming in your stomach. “I heard, sweetheart. Sounds amazing.”

Robby set Hannah down so she could run to grab her stuffed animal from the couch. The moment she was out of earshot, he lowered his voice slightly. “I meant what I said the other day. The offer’s still open if—”

Before he could finish, Hannah came racing back, clutching her capybara tightly. “Daddy, can Mommy come with us to the beach? Please?”

Robby didn’t miss a beat. He looked straight at his daughter with an innocent expression that you knew was anything but. “You know what, Han? I was actually thinking about inviting Mommy too. What do you think? Would you like Mommy to come on the trip with us?”

Hannah’s entire face lit up like the Fourth of July. She spun toward you so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Mommy! You have to come! Please please please! We can build sandcastles together and swim and eat ice cream and watch the sunset and— and everything!”

You shot Robby a deadly look over Hannah’s head, the kind that promised a painful retribution the moment you two were alone. He simply raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was weaponizing the one person he knew you could never say no to. Hannah. She had always been your biggest weakness, your softest spot, and Robby knew it better than anyone. Those big, warm brown eyes were lethal. One pleading look from her, and your resolve crumbled like sand.

And right now, she was using every ounce of that power, blinking up at you with hope while clutching your hand like her entire happiness depended on your answer. It was unfair, completely unfair. Robby wasn’t just standing by and letting her beg, he was actively encouraging it, using your daughter as the ultimate emotional leverage. He knew you could resist him, he knew you could fight your own feelings, your own desires, your own stupid heart. But Hannah? Saying no to her when she looked at you like that felt almost cruel. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to hide how satisfied he was with himself, that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth said everything. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Hannah, baby…” You crouched down to her level, gently brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Mommy would love to, but I’m super busy with work right now. I have so many shifts and—”

Robby’s voice cut in smoothly from behind her. “Actually, you have a bunch of vacation days saved up. I checked it yesterday.”

You straightened up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him, silently warning him to stop this nonsense before it went too far. “Robby.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just stating facts. You shouldn’t lie to your daughter, you know?”

Hannah grabbed your hand with both of hers, swinging it dramatically. “Mommy, pleeease? Pretty, pretty please!” You opened your mouth to respond, but Hannah was already in full pleading mode, her big puppy-brown eyes, exactly like Robby’s, staring up at you with devastating effectiveness.

“I really can’t afford it right now, sweetheart,” you tried again. “Plane tickets and hotels are expensive, and Mommy—”

“If Mommy can’t pay,” Robby interrupted you. “Then Daddy will pay. I’ve got it covered. Flights, resort, activities, all of it. You wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Hannah tugged harder on your hand, bouncing on her toes. “See? Daddy’s paying! So you can come! Please, Mommy? I want all of us together. Pretty pleeeeease.”

You felt cornered, trying to come up with more excuses, but as you reached inside your head, you couldn’t think of any. Robby stood there looking far too pleased with himself, while your daughter continued her relentless assault with those lethal eyes and endless enthusiasm.

“Hannah…” you started, searching desperately for another excuse.

“But Mommy,” she whined, pressing her face against your leg, “I’ll miss you so much if you stay here.”

Robby, the absolute traitor, decided to join forces. “She’s got a point,” he said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual when they met yours. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. And like I said before, I can get us separate rooms. You can do your own thing the whole time if you want. But it would mean a lot to her… and to me.” 

The “and to me” was spoken so quietly you almost missed it. You looked between the two of them, your daughter with her hopeful, shining eyes and her father, the man you still stupidly loved,  with that steady and patient gaze that had always been able to wear you down. The silence stretched. Hannah’s lower lip started to tremble just slightly, the ultimate weapon in her arsenal.

With a long, defeated sigh, you finally gave in. “…Fine,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “I’ll go too.”

Hannah let out an ear-piercing squeal of pure delight and threw herself at your legs, hugging them tightly. “Yay! Mommy’s coming! We’re all going to the beach together!”

Robby’s smile was slow and satisfied, though he tried to keep it modest. “That’s great,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Really great.”

You pointed a finger at him over Hannah’s head. “You’re going to pay for this later, Robinavitch.”

His only response was a knowing chuckle. “Looking forward to it.”

Hannah continued dancing around the living room in celebration, already chattering about sandcastles, seashells, and swimming with dolphins. You stood there watching her, with your heart full of love for your daughter, loving every second of seeing her so happy, and equal parts dread and excitement about what you’d just agreed to, a family vacation in Mexico with Robby. God help you.

Hours later, the glow of your bedside lamp was the only light in the room. You were already tucked into bed, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt that had seen better days. Your phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand, making you glance at the screen, letting out a slow breath as soon as you noticed who was calling. A Facetime from Robby. 

You hesitated for two rings, it was almost midnight, and you didn’t feel like having any possibly agitating conversation right before your bedtime, but ultimately ended up accepting the call. Robby’s face filled the screen almost immediately, he was in his bedroom too, the light of his lamp illuminating his face. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his glasses were perched low on his nose, those fucking glasses… No, don’t even go there, you silently muttered to your brain

“Hey,” his voice sounded rougher, the way it always got late at night. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You already in bed?”

“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting the blanket over your lap, as if trying to cover yourself up. “It’s late, Robby.”

He hummed in agreement, slowly dragging his eyes over what he could see of you on the screen. “You look comfortable. Cute shirt.” There was a brief pause before he asked, almost casually, “So… have you started packing swimsuits yet?”

You stared at him for a moment, the irritation you’d been carrying for the past hours finally bubbled up. “Robby… we need to talk.”

Robby lifted his eyebrows slightly, but the lazy smile didn’t leave his face. “Alright. About what?”

“You manipulated me into agreeing to this trip.” 

Robby let out a low chuckle. “Manipulated? Damn, you’re using big words tonight.”

“It’s not funny,” you said sharply, though you kept your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake Hannah. “You used our daughter to convince me, and then you joined in. That was low, even for you.”

He tilted his head, still smiling like this was all some lighthearted game. “Anything else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. You guilt-tripped me. The whole ‘it would mean a lot to her… and to me’ line? That was manipulation.”

Robby leaned back against his headboard, resting one arm behind his head, giving you an even better view of his bare chest. He looked far too relaxed for someone being accused of emotional manipulation. “Jesus,” he muttered, still chuckling softly. “Oh-ho-ho, I’m so evil, I manipulated the mother of my child into letting me take her on a fully paid week at a luxury beach resort in Mexico.” He raised an eyebrow, mock-serious. “Am I gonna go to prison for that?”

“Robby.”

“Relax,” he said, softening his tone just a fraction, though the amusement was still there. “Hannah’s excited. You saw her. She wants all three of us there. I’m just trying to give her what she wants.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you shot back. “I know your real agenda behind all of this.”

He tilted his head again, looking curious now. “Oh yeah? And what’s my agenda, according to you?”

You sat up a little straighter in bed, clutching the blanket tighter. “You’re using this stupid trip as an excuse to try and get back with me. You think throwing money at a vacation and putting us in the same space for a whole week is going to magically fix everything. It’s not going to work.”

For a moment, Robby just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then that stupid smirk of his spread across his face again. “Have you seen me in swim trunks lately? I look real good. You might have to swallow your words when you see me.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, though you couldn’t stop the flush that crept up your neck. You hated the way he could still make you laugh when you were trying to be pissed. You hated the way your body still reacted to his words. “You’re impossible. Seriously, it’s impossible to have a serious conversation with you sometimes.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Sun, sand, good drinks, me looking like this… you never know.”

“I’ll go,” you said, cutting him off before he could keep going. “But don’t even think this means anything else. We’ll get separate rooms. We’ll make separate plans. I’m going for Hannah. That’s it. Don’t get any ideas.”

Robby ignored your warning completely. “You look so gorgeous right now,” he murmured. Suddenly, his voice went quieter, more intimate. Robby moved his eyes slowly over your face, down to the collar of your shirt and back up again. “All soft and sleepy in bed like that. Fuck… I wish I were lying there with you.”

Your stomach flipped despite yourself, the way he said it, so sincere and full of a hunger that never ceased but only grew stronger every day, made heat bloom in your belly. You wanted to scream at how easily he could still do that to you. “Robby…” you warned him.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I miss the way you feel under me. The way you breathe when you’re falling asleep next to me. I miss—”

“Goodbye, Robby.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, you ended the facetime call with a tap of your finger, plunging your screen into darkness. The room felt suddenly too quiet, too empty without his presence there. You dropped your phone onto the mattress beside you and stared up at the ceiling. Your skin felt warm, your mind was already replaying the way he’d looked at you, the tone of his voice when he said he wished he was lying there with you.

You pulled the blanket higher up to your chest, trying to ignore the storm of feelings Robby had just stirred up with nothing but his voice. It didn’t work, the ache was still there, as well as the flutter in your chest. The way your heart tripped over itself whenever he looked at you like that. Five years later, and Michael could still make your stupid heart race like you were that same fourth-year med student who used to sneak into his place late at night after shift. And now you had agreed to spend an entire week with him. A full week in Mexico. Seven days of Robby being Robby, charming, attentive, and far too good at reminding you exactly why you fell for him in the first place.

You had to force yourself to go back to one of the saddest days you could remember. Robby had come home from a brutal twelve-hour shift. You had just collapsed onto the couch after finally getting Hannah down, she’d been fussy all day, teething and crying restlessly. The moment he walked through the door, you could tell it had been a bad one. His eyes were glassy and distant, the lines on his face etched deeper than usual. Lately, every shift seemed to carve something out of him. He moved closer and pressed a quick, almost mechanical kiss to your forehead. No hello. No “how was your day.” Not even the ghost of a smile. Just autopilot, he was running on empty.

He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, far from you, shoulders slumped. “There’s some pasta in the fridge I made,” you whispered, hoping it would reach him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. He just stared at nothing, too drained to move.

Then Hannah let out a small cry from her crib. Before you could push yourself up, Robby was already on his feet. He scooped her up gently against his shoulder, swaying her in a soothing rhythm. “Are you okay, little angel?” he cooed softly, tender in a way it hadn’t been for you in weeks. “Yes, you’re okay. Yes, you are. Daddy’s here… shhh, go back to sleep.” That was the only moment you saw him smile genuine, and heartbreakingly soft as he held his daughter.

Tears burned in your eyes as you stood and walked closer to him. You had spent so many sleepless nights turning it over in your mind, and you couldn’t keep prolonging the inevitable. “Robby… we need to talk.”

“About us?” he replied, already sensing where this was going.

You nodded, feeling your throat tight. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be with me? That… you regret telling me to move in with you and being together?”

Robby sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like the weight of the world was pressing down on them. “It’s just work. You have no idea what it’s like trying to hold the whole fucking department together when everything is crumbling down and—”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. I understand your job is hard, that you’re stressed and exhausted, but… shit, Robby, all we do is ignore each other. The only time we actually speak is to argue about something stupid.” The tears slipped free then, there was no holding them back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I could do all of this, but I—” Tears welled in his eyes too, spilling over as he tried to hold it together. “I don’t know what to do. I—” A sob cut him off.

“Do you need space?” you asked, dreading the answer. “Is that it? You need us to take some time?”

He looked at you for a long moment, broken and defeated. “Yes.”

Two weeks had passed, and before you realized it, the suitcase lay now open on your bed, half-filled with the folded clothes you had carefully picked for the trip. You stood in front of it, folding another sundress, while Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by her own small pink suitcase and a pile of toys.

“Hannah, baby, do you have everything?” you asked for what felt like the tenth time. “Swimsuits? Sunscreen? The colouring books Daddy bought you for the plane?”

Hannah nodded enthusiastically, holding up her favorite ruffled swimsuit. “Yes, Mommy! And my water wings and the new sunglasses Daddy got me!” She beamed with uncontainable excitement. “Are we leaving soon? Is Daddy almost here?”

“Any minute now,” you replied, zipping up the main compartment of your suitcase with a sigh. Your stomach had been in knots all morning, this trip still felt like a terrible idea the more you thought about it, but Hannah’s joy made it impossible to back out now.

Right on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Hannah shot up like a rocket and ran toward it, yelling “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs.

You followed more slowly, pulling both suitcases behind you. When you opened the door, Robby stood there in a casual white linen shirt and shorts, looking annoyingly relaxed and handsome in the morning sunlight. His eyes immediately found yours, a small playing on his lips. “Hey,” he said softly. “You two ready?”

“Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him. Robby scooped her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, my little mermaid. You got all your stuff?” He glanced over her head at you. “Need help with the bags?"

“I’ve got them,” you said, a little more curtly than you intended. 

The drive to the airport was filled with Hannah’s nonstop chatter from the backseat. She pointed out every car, every cloud, every sign, asking a thousand questions about the plane, the ocean, and whether there would be dolphins. Robby answered every single one with patience, occasionally glancing at you in the passenger seat. You kept your eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard about how domestic this all felt. 

At the airport, Robby handled check-in, and when the agent handed over the boarding passes, you caught a glimpse of them and froze. Business class.

You turned to him slowly as they walked toward security. “Seriously, Robby? It’s a four-hour flight. We could’ve flown economy like normal people.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I had miles on my card for an upgrade. Didn’t cost anything extra.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Robby.”

He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so Hannah wouldn’t hear. “Forgive me. I just wanted to spoil my family a little.”

“We’re not a family,” you said firmly, glancing ahead at Hannah skipping between you two. Robby didn’t argue, he just gave you a look that said he disagreed but wasn’t going to push. 

The flight itself was smoother than you expected. In business class, the seats were wide and comfortable. You both let Hannah had the window seat, ans she spent most of the flight pressed against the glass, watching the clouds and looking at the ocean. Robby sat in the middle, keeping Hannah entertained with the in-flight entertainment and snacks.

You tried to read, but your mind kept wandering, every time Robby’s arm brushed yours, reaching for something, or when he laughed at one of Hannah’s excited comments, memories flooded your mind back, and you had to constantly remind yourself the only reason you were doing this was because Hannah had asked.

You landed in Cancun four hours later. A private transfer waited for you outside arrivals. The driver loaded your bags while Hannah bounced between you and Robby, holding both your hands. The drive to the resort took about forty-five minutes along the coast. You watched the palm trees that lined the road and the turquoise water on one side. Hannah pressed her face to the window the entire time, gasping at every new sight.

When the resort finally came into view, it was even more beautiful than the pictures. A luxurious property with white buildings, infinity pools cascading toward the ocean, and tropical gardens everywhere. 

The humid air of Cancun wrapped around you the moment you stepped out of the transfer van. The resort lobby was stunning with high ceilings, white marble floors and massive floral arrangements. Hannah’s hand was firmly in yours, her fingers squeezing with excitement as her eyes darted everywhere at once. “Mommy, look! There’s a fountain! And flowers! And the ocean is right there!”

Robby walked a few steps ahead, carrying Hannah’s pink suitcase in one hand and his own duffel in the other. He looked completely at ease, the fabric of his shirt slightly damp from the humidity and clinging just enough to show the lines of his shoulders. He glanced back at you with a reassuring smile before heading straight to the reception desk. You stayed back with Hannah, letting her point out every detail she noticed.

A few minutes later, Robby returned, twirling a key card between his fingers. “All set. We’re in the beachfront wing. Follow me.”

The walk to the room was beautiful but felt endless. Hannah skipped between you and Robby, holding both your hands and swinging them as she chattered nonstop about building the biggest sandcastle in the world. 

Robby finally stopped in front of a beautiful wooden door, he swiped the key card, and the door clicked open. The suite was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto a wide private balcony overlooking the ocean. The living area had elegant white furniture, and as you stepped further inside, your eyes landed on the bedroom area with two queen-size beds.

You stopped dead in the doorway. “Where’s the other room?” you asked slowly, worried you already knew the answer Robby was about to give you.

Robby set the suitcases down and scratched the back of his head, looking mildly sheepish. “Yeah… so there was a mix-up at the front desk. We only got one room.”

You stared at him with disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now?” The asshole had to be kidding. But then again, this was Robby, and this was exactly the kind of shenanigans he’d put you through. You should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise to let you do your own thing at the resort, to not act like you were a real family on a family holiday. You had been to hopeful to expect he’d at least wait a little longer before showing his real intentions.

Hannah, completely oblivious to the tension, let out a delighted squeal and immediately launched herself onto the nearest bed, jumping up and down with pure joy. “This one’s mine! No, this one! Look how bouncy it is, Mommy! Daddy, come jump with me!”

You barely heard her, your whole attention was locked on Robby. The family suite was gorgeous, in tasteful neutral tones, with fresh flowers on the nightstands, a bottle of champagne and fruit plate waiting on the table with a welcome note, but none of that mattered. What mattered now was that Robby had not only manipulated you to agree to this trip, but he’d also lied to you.

“Michael, do you think I was born yesterday? You totally did this on purpose. I know it.” 

He held up both hands in a placating gesture, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “There was a confusion with the booking. I swear. They had us down for a family suite with two queens instead of two separate rooms.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Go fix it. Right now.”

“I already tried,” he said calmly, stepping closer so Hannah wouldn’t overhear. “They’re completely booked. Peak season, a big wedding happening this week. No other rooms available in the whole resort.”

You let out a frustrated breath, rubbing your temple. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby. Separate rooms. That was the condition. I never would’ve come if—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But it’s just one week. I can take one bed, you and Hannah can take the other. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you hissed, keeping your voice down as Hannah continued bouncing happily, now unpacking her stuffed capybara and arranging it on the pillows. “This is exactly what I was worried about. You’re pushing boundaries.”

Meanwhile, Hannah had moved on to dragging her suitcase across the room, chattering excitedly. “Mommy, can we go to the beach now? The water is waiting! I want to find seashells and build a castle.”

Robby glanced at her with that fatherly smile that always made your chest ache, then looked back at you. “Look at her. She’s already so happy. One week, that’s all. We’re adults. We can handle sharing space for a few nights without it meaning anything.”

You stared at the two queen beds again. They were large, luxurious, with more pillows than necessary. The balcony doors were open, letting in the warm breeze and the constant, soothing sound of waves. It would have been perfect… if it weren’t for the man standing two feet away looking far too pleased with this “mix-up.”

Hannah suddenly ran over and grabbed your hand, then Robby’s. “Come on! Let’s go to the beach! I’m ready! I have my bucket and everything!”

You looked down at your daughter’s beaming face, then back at Robby. He raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting. You let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. But this changes nothing, Robby. Separate beds. No funny business. And the second a room opens up, we’re switching.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t worried at all.

He set his suitcase near one of the queen beds and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll go change first. Won’t be long.”

You nodded silently, still processing everything, but as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, you turned your attention to Hannah, who was already pulling things out of her pink suitcase with frantic excitement.

“Come here, baby,” you said softly, kneeling on the floor beside her bed. “Let’s get you ready for the beach.”

Hannah stood in front of you, wiggling with impatience as you helped her out of her travel clothes. You carefully slipped her into her favorite ruffled swimsuit, bright pink with little white flowers, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over her tummy. Then came the sunscreen. You squeezed a generous amount into your palm and rubbed it slowly over her arms, shoulders, back, legs, and face, making sure every inch was covred. Hannah giggled when you got to her nose, squirming because of how tickly it was.

“You have to stay safe from the sun, okay?” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going to have so much fun, but Mommy doesn’t want you to get burned like a toast.”

“I won’t!” she promised solemnly, then immediately went back to bouncing on her toes. “Can I wear my new sunglasses? And my hat with the flowers?”

The bathroom door opened, and Robby stepped out, for a moment, time seemed to slow. He wore dark swim trunks, paired with a simple white shirt that he hadn’t bothered to put on yet,  it was slung over his shoulder. You had seen his bare body no more than a month ago, you’d been under it, but it still felt, somehow, like seeing him again for the first time.

You stared at him longer than you should have. His soft but solid tummy that drove you insane, and that familiar trail of dark hair across his chest that you had always, always loved running your fingers through.

Your eyes traced the lines of his chest, the way the hair curled slightly, the soft give of his stomach. Heat flushed up your neck because God, you still loved every inch of him. 

Robby caught you looking and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What?” he asked teasingly. “I got something on my face?”

You blinked hard, tearing your gaze away. “No,” you muttered, grabbing your own beach bag a little too quickly. “I’m… going to change.”

You escaped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you. The mirror showed your flushed cheeks, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a week, you could handle this. Just a week of sleeping in the same room, just a week of seeing his body, just a week of him deliberately trying to break down our walls.

You changed into one of the bikinis you’d packed, a simple black two-piece that tied at the sides and back. You liked how it looked on you, it was flattering, but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt suddenly, acutely aware of how little it covered. Your body had changed since having Hannah, a few stretch marks here and there, breasts that were fuller but not as perky as before. Standing here in just this tiny bikini, knowing Robby was right outside… it felt vulnerable.

You adjusted the ties one more time, took another steadying breath, and stepped out of the bathroom. Hannah immediately squealed. “Mommy, you look so pretty!” She ran over and hugged your legs before darting into the bathroom herself to grab her sunglasses and sun hat. “I’ll be right back!”

You stood in the middle of the suite, adjusting the strap of your beach bag, when Robby stepped in from the balcony. He had been leaning on the railing, looking out at the ocean, but the moment he turned and saw you, he stopped dead. His eyes widened, and he dramatically clutched his chest with one hand, staggering back a step like he was having a heart attack.

 “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, the grin on his face pure mischief. “Warn a guy next time.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that wanted to break free. “You’re so not funny, Robinavitch.”

You wanted to slap that smug smile right off his face and kiss him senseless at the same time. The two urges warred inside you, because you hated how much his words mattered. How easily he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman who had ever stepped foot on this earth, and how completely you believed him when he said it. He wasn’t just mumbling the words because it felt like something he was supposed to say. No, Robby looked at you like he truly wanted you, like he was dying to get his hands back on your body, to pull you close and remind you exactly how good it used to feel. His gaze lingered, tracing over you in a way that made heat flood your stomach. God, you hated how much you still wanted him to.

He didn’t stop. He kept one hand pressed to his heart, shaking his head slowly as his gaze traveled over you, unashamed, appreciative, and far too warm. “You’re trying to kill me on day one, huh? That bikini… fuck. You look incredible.”

Heat flooded your face again, but you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly self-conscious. “Stop it. This is exactly what I was worried about.”

Robby took a slow step closer, still smiling, but his voice dropped. “Can’t help it. You’ve always looked good, but seeing you like this…” He let the sentence trail off, his sight lingering on the curve of your waist and the ties at your hips.

Before you could respond, Hannah burst back out of the bathroom wearing her oversized sunglasses and floppy sun hat, striking a dramatic pose. “I’m ready! Let’s go see the ocean!”

The sand was warm under your feet as the three of you made your way down the wooden boardwalk to the private stretch of beach reserved for resort guests. The sea stretched out in front of you, waves lapping against the shore, leaving behind lines of foam. Hannah’s excitement was infectious. She ran ahead a few steps, then back to you and Robby, her little sun hat flopping with every bounce. “The water is so blue! Can we go in right now? Please?”

Robby chuckled, adjusting the beach bag on his shoulder. “Let’s set up first, kiddo. Then we’ll swim.”

You chose three loungers under a large thatched umbrella near the water’s edge. You spread out towels while Robby helped Hannah with her water wings. The resort staff had placed a small cooler with chilled water and fruit beside the chairs, and soft music drifted from speakers along the beach. 

Once everything was settled, Robby stood and offered his hand to Hannah. “Ready, little mermaid?” 

She grabbed his hand with both of hers and tugged him toward the water. You watched them go, settling back into your lounger with the book you’d brought.  The sun felt incredible on your skin, you opened your book, but your eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages. Robby and Hannah waded into the shallow waves. Hannah squealed every time the water touched her legs, clinging to Robby’s hand. He lifted her high when a bigger wave came, spinning her around as she laughed uncontrollably. His swim trunks moved lower on his hips, and it made it impossible for you to focus on your book, every few minutes your gaze wandered back to them. 

After nearly an hour, Hannah came running back to you, dripping wet and beaming. “Mommy! Come build sandcastles with me! Daddy said he’ll watch our stuff.”

You set your book aside and took her hand, walking down to the firmer sand near the waterline. The two of you knelt together, digging with plastic shovels and buckets. Hannah chattered nonstop about her castle needing a moat and a tower for the princess. You helped her pat the walls smooth, adding seashells and bits of coral you found along the shore. The sun warmed your back, and for a while, everything felt simple and perfect,  just you and your daughter creating something together. But you felt Robby’s eyes on you the entire time, when you glanced up, he was sitting on the lounger, with his elbows on his knees, watching with an unreadable expression. 

He didn’t look away when your eyes met, the intensity in his gaze made heat bloom across your skin. Later, when the castle was tall and elaborate, Hannah got a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can we bury Daddy in the sand? Like a mummy?”

Robby, who had joined you, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see how it is. Ganging up on me already?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Sounds fair.”

The three of you worked together, slowly covering Robby as he lay back in the sand. Hannah patted sand over his legs with delight, while you worked on his arms and torso. The heavy sand molded around his body as he lay there patiently, occasionally joking with Hannah about becoming a “sand mummy.” Every time your hands brushed his skin while smoothing the sand, a spark jumped between you. He noticed, and you knew he did.

When you finally stepped back, Robby was almost completely buried, only his head and part of his neck visible. Hannah clapped her hands and danced around him. “He looks like a turtle!”

Robby chuckled, trying to move and finding himself well and truly stuck. “Alright, ladies. Fun’s over. Unbury me.”

You exchanged a look with Hannah, a smile spreading across your face. “You know what, Hannah? Don’t you want to go get some ice cream? I saw a stand right by the pools, and since this is all-inclusive, we can have all the ice cream we want.”

Hannah’s eyes lit up like stars. “Yes! Chocolate and strawberry and rainbow sprinkles!”

Robby snapped his head toward you, as much as he could with what little mobility he had left. “Ice cream sounds great. Why don’t you get me out of here and we go there together?”

You crouched down beside him, close enough that your shadow fell over his face. You leaned in until your faces were only inches apart. “This is for booking one room, Michael.”

His eyes widened with outrage. “You wouldn’t—”

You straightened up before he could finish, taking Hannah’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go find that ice cream. Daddy can wait a few more minutes.”

Hannah giggled conspiratorially and waved at Robby. “Bye, Daddy! We’ll bring you some… maybe!”

As the two of you walked away hand-in-hand toward the resort path, Robby’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-protesting. “This is unfair punishment! Hannah! Come back!”

You didn’t look back, but you couldn’t stop the satisfied smile on your face. For the first time since arriving, you felt like you might actually survive this week, but only if you kept winning the small battles.

The light of late afternoon had softened into the warm pinks and oranges by the time you and Hannah returned to the suite. The scent of ocean salt that clung to your skin and your hair was a wild mess. You both needed showers badly. You helped Hannah first, rinsing the sand from her hair and body. After drying her with one of the oversized white towels, you slipped her into her favorite purple dress and brushed her hair until it was smooth. Your turn came next, you took your time, letting the warm water wash away the salt, sand, and sunscreen. When you emerged wrapped in a towel, Hannah was sitting on one of the queen beds, flipping through a children’s book the resort had left. 

She looked up with a bright smile. “Mommy, I’m so hungry! Can we go eat now?”

“Soon, baby. Let’s wait and see if Daddy gets back so we can all go together.”

You were both dressed and ready when the door to the suite finally opened. Robby stepped inside, still covered head to toe in sand. It clung to his hair, dusted his shoulders and arms, and left visible trails down his legs. His swim trunks looked gritty, and there was sand stuck to the damp skin of his chest and stomach. He looked equal parts ridiculous and defeated. You and Hannah stared for half a second before bursting into laughter. 

Hannah pointed, doubling over on the bed. “Daddy! You’re a sand monster for real!”

Robby closed the door behind him with a dramatic sigh, brushing uselessly at his arms. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “That wasn’t cool at all.”

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand. “You deserved that, Michael.”

He shot you a look, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I have sand in places no person should ever have sand. I’m talking places, okay? You left me there all afernoon.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Really? The whole afternoon?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sending another shower of sand onto the floor. “Maybe a beach guard eventually helped dig me out. That’s not the point. The point is you two left me there.”

Hannah was still giggling uncontrollably. “Sorry, Daddy. I ate all the ice-cream.”

Robby shook his head, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Traitors, both of you.” He glanced down at himself again and sighed. “I need a shower. Give me ten minutes and we can head to dinner.”

While Robby disappeared into the bathroom, you and Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the water run. When Robby finally emerged, he looked refreshed, wearing a clean button-down shirt and shorts. “Ready?” he asked, offering Hannah his hand.

The buffet was everything a resort like this promised, long tables overflowing with fresh seafood, grilled meats, salads, tropical fruits, and many dessert stations. Hannah’s eyes were wide as saucers as she piled her plate high with pasta, shrimp, and fruit, while you and Robby chose more balanced meals. 

You ate slowly, savoring the flavors while Hannah chattered between bites about everything she’d seen that day, occasionally yawning as the long day caught up with her.

After dinner, the walk back to the suite was peaceful, the pathways were lit with lanterns, and the sound of waves grew louder again as you approached the beach wing. Hannah walked between you and Robby, holding both your hands, her steps slowing with tiredness.

Back in the room, the bedtime routine felt strangely intimate. You helped Hannah brush her teeth while Robby turned down the beds. Hannah chose to sleep with you tonight. You tucked her in on the bed closest to the balcony, reading her a short story while Robby dimmed the lights.

Soon, Hannah’s breathing evened out into sleep, her body curled against your side. You lay there in the semi-darkness while Robby settled into the other bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” Robby murmured, soft enough not to disturb Hannah’s peaceful sleep. “The three of us here like this… I had a great time today. Even if I spent three hours buried under sand.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your treacherous heart agreed with him. It did feel nice, dangerously nice. You’d had so much fun being with him, doing things together like a regular family: building sandcastles, chasing waves, watching Hannah’s delighted squeals. For a few stolen hours, it had felt real. “Tomorrow morning,” you said quietly, despite the ache in your chest, “you’re going to the reception and asking if they have any more rooms available.”

The next morning you woke slowly, Hannah was still curled against your side on the queen bed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, you slipped out of bed. You moved quietly around the room, brushing your teeth, splashing cool water on your face, and running a brush through your hair. You chose a red bikini today, tied the strings and slipped on a light white cover-up. Before leaving, you scribbled a short note and left it on the nightstand: Went for an early walk on the beach to watch the sunrise.

Robby woke later, he spotted the note immediately and read it with a smile. “Mommy went for an early beach walk,” he told Hannah, helping her sit up. “Let’s get ready and surprise her with breakfast on the beach. What do you think?”

Hannah’s face lit up. They took their time, Robby patiently helping her brush her teeth and wash her face. He changed into swim trunks and a loose linen shirt, applied sunscreen to Hannah’s face and arms, and they headed out hand-in-hand, making a quick stop at the breakfast buffet to grab some fresh fruit, croissants, yogurt, and cold water bottles to bring to the beach.

The ocean sparkled brilliantly as he scanned the loungers, looking for you. When he finally spotted you further down the beach, his steps slowed. You were standing near the water’s edge in just the red bikini, the morning light highlighting every curve of your body. You looked relaxed, confident, and breathtakingly beautiful. And you weren’t alone. A tall, ripped guy in his mid-to-late twenties stood close to you, shirtless, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders glistening slightly with sweat or water. He was laughing at something you said, leaning in with confidence, clearly flirting back with you. 

He looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover, young, with zero signs of the wear that came from decades of work. An ugly twist of jealousy hit Robby in the chest. But it wasn’t just jealousy, it was insecurity hiding right behind it. This guy was younger, fitter. Probably had endless stamina and no emotional baggage. Robby became acutely aware of his own softer stomach, the gray hairs scattered across his chest, and the wrinkles around his eyes from years of exhaustion. He felt every one of his fifty. years in that moment, standing there holding a plate of fruit and his daughter’s hand.

Hannah tugged excitedly on Robby’s hand. “There’s Mommy! Look, Daddy! She’s over there by the water. Can we go say hi? Please?”

Robby forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Let’s go.”

They started walking across the warm sand. Robby’s focus narrowed entirely on you and the man standing far too close. As they approached, he heard the guy’s easy laugh again. The young man was animated, gesturing toward the horizon with one muscular arm, clearly in the middle of some charming story. 

“Good morning” Robby said, trying not to sound bothered but doing a terrible job hiding his annoyance. “I see you found company.”

The guy’s gaze flicked from you to Robby, then back to you with mild confusion. “Is that… your father?”

The word landed like a punch, and Robby let out a short and dry laugh, though his jaw tightened painfully. “Her father,” he mumbled on the low. “Cute. No. I’m her husband, as a matter of fact.” His voice didn’t even hesitate over the blatant lie he’d just said.

You laughed, an uncomfortable and forced sound that made Robby’s chest twist. “He’s not my husband,” you corrected quickly. “He’s just… a guy I know from work.”

Robby turned to you slowly, raising one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “A guy you know from work? Excuse me?” The young guy shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly sensing the sudden thick tension crackling in the air. “I’m the father of her daughter. Michael Robinavitch, nice to meet you.”

The guy’s eyes darted between the three of you, with a confused look across his face as if he couldn’t quite process the sudden shift. Just a couple of minutes earlier he’d been leaning in close, flashing an easy smile and flirting with acute woman at the beach. Now here you were with a man standing possessively close and a little kid next to him. And as if he couldn’t quite believe that Robby, was somehow the father of that kid. “So… you have a daughter? With her?”

Robby kept his tone light for Hannah’s sake, ruffling her hair gently with one hand, but there was an edge underneath his words. “Yes. I got her pregnant. It was a wonderful experience, actually.”

The words came out with a possessive undertone he didn’t even try to hide. What a fucking little prick, Robby thought. He wishes he could pull a woman like you. Sure, the guy might have abs where Robby had a softer belly. Maybe his forehead was smooth, with no lines etched from the pass of time, and his head might still be free of silver hairs. But Robby had pulled you without any of that polished bullshit, and you had always looked at him like he was the most handsome man to ever exist. A little asshole like him wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like you.

You shot Robby a warning glare, a mix of anger and embarrassment. because now you had to explain your awkard family situation to this stranger. “It’s… complicated,” you told the guy, forcing a polite smile that felt brittle on your face. “Really complicated.”

The young man rubbed the back of his neck, his sculpted shoulders tensing visibly. He was clearly uncomfortable now, the easy flirtation from moments ago evaporating. “Yeah… uhh, I think my friends are calling me. Nice to meet you, though.” He gave you one last lingering, appreciative glance before turning and walking away toward a group of guys further down the beach.

The second he was out of earshot, you rounded on Robby, trying to keep your voice low and controlled so Hannah wouldn’t hear, but still with a furious undertone in it. “What the hell was that? You completely ruined it. He was flirting with me, and you had to march over here acting like some possessive caveman. And “her husband” What the hell was that?”

Robby set the beach bag down on the sand a little harder than necessary. “Oh please,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement highlighting the soft give of his stomach beneath his shirt. “He’s not even your type.”

You stared at him incredulously. “And how exactly would you know what my type is these days, Robby?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were dark with a potent mix of jealousy and insecurity. “Because I know you. That guy? All looks and no substance. Perfect abs and zero idea what real life looks like. You’d be bored in ten minutes.”

The words hung between you. Hannah, sensing the growing tension like children always do, tugged gently on your hand. “Mommy, can we eat breakfast now? I’m hungry.”

You forced a warm smile for her, pushing down the frustration and smoothing her messy brown hair with your fingers. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s sit down and eat. Daddy brought all your favorites.”

The rest of the morning on the beach passed in silence from your side. You didn’t speak one more word to Robby. Every time he tried to make conversation,offering you some mango, commenting on how beautiful the water looked, asking if you wanted more sunscreen, you answered with short nods or turned your attention to Hannah instead. Robby noticed, and after a while, he stood up slowly, brushing sand from his legs.

“I’m gonna take a walk around the resort for a bit. Give you some space.” He looked at Hannah with a soft smile. “You stay with Mommy, okay, angel? I’ll be back soon.”

Hannah nodded, already busy building another small tower on her sandcastle. Robby lingered for a second longer, resting his eyes on you with something regretful in them, before he turned and walked away down the beach path. You watched his back until he disappeared behind the palm trees.

The hours passed slowly, you played with Hannah in the shallow water, built more sandcastles, applied more sunscreen, and read a few chapters of your book while she napped under the umbrella. But your mind kept replaying the scene with the guy, Robby’s jealous interruption, his possessive words, the way he’d looked at you. It stirred up too many old feelings you didn’t want to examine.

 Part of you enjoyed the attention he gave you, the way Robby got possessive whenever another guy even stepped too close. It felt good to be wanted like that. To see him look at you like he still wanted you to be his and his only, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between you. It was dangerous, how much you liked it. Because it stirred up the same old feelings, the ones that made it so hard to remember why you kept pushing him away in the first place.

Robby returned a couple of hours later, carrying two fresh iced drinks. He approached cautiously and sat down on the edge of your lounger, close but not touching you. “I know you’re pissed,” he said. “And you have every right to be. I overstepped. I was an asshole back there. Jealous and… yeah. I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent for a long moment, staring out at the turquoise water. “You were. You ruined a nice, harmless conversation.”

Robby nodded, accepting it. “I did.” He paused, then offered one of the iced drinks. “I walked by the spa earlier. They have really good reviews. I thought of getting you a massage as an apology. You deserve to relax after everything… and after dealing with me being an idiot.”

You looked at him then, searching his face. His expression was sincere, the usual cocky edge softened by genuine regret. Part of you wanted to stay mad. The other part, the tired nd overworked resident and mother, desperately wanted that massage. “…Fine,” you said eventually. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed.”

“Understood.” He gave you a small smile.

You left Hannah at the resort’s supervised children’s activity center, a beautiful shaded area with crafts, games, and attentive staff. She was thrilled to join the other kids, waving goodbye without a second thought. 

The spa building was serene and even more luxurious than the rest of the resort. Robby stepped up to the elegant reception desk first. You watched him leaning slightly on the polished wood counter, and the woman on the desk checking the screen and nodding. 

After a couple of seconds, Robby came back to you. “Okay, it’s all settled. I’m gonna head back, maybe hit the pool with the bar. Enjoy your massage. You deserve it.”

Before Robby had any time to head to the door, a masseuse in a white uniform approached you both. She offered a welcoming smile. “Okay, beautiful couple, ready for your couple’s massage? We have the ocean-view room prepared with the full aromatherapy package you selected. It’s one of our most popular experiences.”

You froze right there and then, the word “couple” hitting you like cold water. Your stomach tightened instantly, a rush of irritation flooding through you. “Robby,” you said, turning to him. “What the hell did you do now?”

He looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he raised both hands in a surrender gesture. “I swear I don’t know,” he said quickly, sounding sincere for once. “I just booked a regular massage for you. I didn’t say anything about a couple’s anything. I was very clear, one person, one massage.”

The masseuse glanced between the two of you, still smiling politely, completely unfazed by the sudden tension. “It’s our signature couples experience, side-by-side tables, synchronized massage, and a glass of champagne afterward. Very romantic and relaxing. Perfect for reconnecting.”

Before you could refuse, clarify, or even form a full protest, the staff were already guiding you both forward with efficiency. They led you down a quiet, incense-scented hallway that opened into a treatment room. Two massage tables stood side by side in the center, candles flickering all around the room and towels folded neatly.

Your heart was racing now, a mix of irritation at Robby and anticipation because soon he would be shirtless again, lying only a few feet away while you were both having a “couple experience” when all you needed was to be as far away as possible from the concept of you and Robby being a couple. Your brain was already getting all these confused, dangerous feelings after spending so much time together, the laughter, the casual touches, the way the three of you looked like a real family from the outside. The last thing you needed right now was to keep doing couple activities. Every shared dinner, every walk along the beach, only made the line between co-parents. You were supposed to be keeping your distance.

You turned to him. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby.”

He looked almost sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I really did just ask for one massage. But… we’re here now. Might as well enjoy it?”

The masseuses were already moving, preparing the oils, laying out fresh towels, adjusting the temperature and lighting.

On of them smiled gently. “If you’d both like to remove your clothes to your comfort level and lie face down on the tables, we’ll begin with the back and shoulders. Take your time.”

Robby glanced at you, reading the hesitation in your posture. He gave a reassuring nod. “I’ll go first,” he said quietly, and stepped behind the simple privacy screen they had provided. 

You heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his shirt and trunks. You turned around quickly, facing the wall to avoid the sight of his fully naked body, one you knew far too well and that still had the exact same devastating effect on you. Definitely not the kind of reaction you needed when you were supposed to be relaxing. But even with your back to him, the knowledge that he was right there in the same room, completely bare, got your heart beating fast. 

When he emerged and lay face down on the right-hand table, he draped the sheet modestly over his lower half. You couldn’t help but notice the familiar lines of his back, his strong shoulders, the soft curve where his waist met his hips. Your turn came next, you stepped behind the screen, your fingers slightly unsteady as you untied the bikini top and stepped out of the bottoms. The cool air kissed your bare skin, you wrapped yourself quickly in one of the large, warmed towels and moved to the left table, lying face down.

You turned your head to the side, away from Robby, trying to steady your breathing. The masseuses worked in sync. Pouring warm oil first, spreading it with their fingers, starting at your shoulders and working downward in long strokes. The pressure was perfect — deep enough to melt the knots from endless shifts, gentle enough to feel indulgent. Beside you, Robby let out a low sound of relief as his own masseuse began. The sound sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine, you knew that voice too well, one you’d heard far too many times.

One of the masseuses, an older woman, spoke softly as she worked on your upper back. “You two make a lovely couple. Have you been together a long time?”

Robby answered before you could explain how you weren’t a couple, you two had ended here after a complicated series of events. “Five years.”

You opened your eyes, staring at the white sheet beneath you. “We’re not really together,” you corrected quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

Robby let out a soft chuckle from the next table. “It’s more like an on-and-off thing.”

You turned your head slightly toward him, the irritation mixing with the pleasure of the massage, an experience that was supposed to be relaxing, but now was irritating due to Robby’s presence. “It’s mostly off than on, really.”

The younger masseuse working on Robby smiled as she kneaded his shoulders. “Ah, but you are here together now. That counts for something, no?”

The older woman on your side pressed deeper into a knot between your shoulder blades, drawing a quiet sigh from you. “You make a good couple,” she said warmly. “I have seen many couples working here, but not many where the man looks at the woman the way he looks at you. It’s very special.”

You let out a small, skeptical laugh, the sound muffled against the face cradle. “I find that hard to believe.”

Robby’s voice came from beside you. “I look at her like she’s the second most precious thing in this entire world.”

The masseuses both made soft. The younger one asked curiously, “Why second?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Becuse the first one is the daughter she gave me five years ago.”

A soft chorus of “Awww” filled the room. You could practically feel the women melting at his words. The older masseuse patted your shoulder gently. “That is beautiful. A man who knows what he has.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, a confusing mix of embarrassment, irritation, and something warmer that his words always managed to make you feel. “He’s a flatterer,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice light. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s very good at saying the right things.”

Robby chuckled again. “Only when it’s true.”

The synchronized rhythm of the massage created an oddly intimate atmosphere. When your masseuse dug into a tight knot between your shoulder blades, Robby’s masseuse did the same at the exact same moment. The sensation of feeling your own body release tension while hearing his quiet groans of pleasure made the room feel smaller, more charged. Time stretched. You found yourself relaxing despite everything, the ocean view, the scent of the oils, the pressure, until the masseuse gently asked you to turn over. You hesitated for a second before complying, keeping the sheet carefully draped over your chest as you rolled onto your back. Robby turned at the same moment, and for a brief second, your eyes met across the small space between the tables. His gaze was dark, but you looked away quickly, focusing on the ceiling and the glow of the candles.

The front massage was somehow even more intimate, oil poured across your collarbones, your arms, your legs. The masseuse’s hands worked slowly up your thighs, careful and professional, but the proximity of Robby, who was lying there with his eyes sometimes closed, sometimes open and watching the ceiling, made every touch feel amplified. 

The older masseuse spoke again softly as she massaged your temples. “It is good to see a family taking time together. These moments are precious.”

You stayed silent this time, and Robby’s quiet reply came a moment later. “They are. It took me a while to realize there’s nothing more important than my family.”

When the massage ended, the masseuses quietly stepped out, leaving you and Robby alone in the treatment room. Robes had been provided, and two elegant flutes of champagne with fresh strawberries and raspberries waited on a small table between the two massage tables. You sat up slowly, wrapping the white robe tightly around yourself. Robby did the same on his table, the robe hanging open just enough to show his chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were the distant waves. Robby reached for the champagne glasses and handed one to you. He clinked his glass gently against yours.

“To surviving the rest of this trip,” he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Robby leaned back against the edge of his table, watching you. The robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of his chest. “No matter how much you try to pretend you hate spending time with me… I know you secretly enjoy it. We get along. We have fun together. You know there’s this… connection between us.”

You stared into your glass, watching the bubbles rise. You took a sip before answering. “You’re wrong. The only reason we keep spending time together is because you pull this shit all the time. This wasn’t what I agreed to. I asked for separate rooms, no couple activities. You keep lying to me and manipulating everything because you have this fantasy that I’ll magically get back with you just because you paid for some expensive vacation.”

Robby set his glass down slowly. He didn’t look defensive. Instead, his expression was open, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t get a couple’s massage. I swear. I asked for one massage for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, the champagne making your cheeks feel warmer. “What about the hotel room mix-up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe… I didn’t correct the receptionist when he gave me only one room.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Robby looked at you then. “I’m in love,” he said simply. “Crazy in love with you. And every single day, every second I spend with you it just gets bigger and bigger. I can’t help it.”

The confession hung between you. You wanted to push back, to stay angry, but the massage had stripped away too many defenses. You knew you could pack your suitcase right now. You knew you could call a taxi, get to the airport, and buy the fastest ticket back home. But part of you didn’t. Part of you longed to stay and see what the next thing Robby would do, how far he’d go to win you back, how much he was willing to risk this time, and whether he truly meant it. The worst part of it all was how little you actually wanted to run away from him.

“You can’t deny the massage was nice,” Robby added quietly.

You took another slow sip of champagne. The truth slipped out before you could stop it. “It felt good,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “Really good.”

The next day you woke to Hannah’s excited bouncing on the bed and Robby’s chuckle from the other side of the room. After a leisurely breakfast on the balcony while watching the ocean, the three of you headed to the resort’s massive water park, full of slides, lazy rivers, and splash zones. Hannah’s eyes were wide with wonder as she ran from one attraction to the next.

You spent hours in the shallow kids’ area first, where sprays of water misted over mushroom fountains. Hannah laughed uncontrollably as she darted through the sprays. Robby lifted her onto his shoulders so she could reach higher sprays, both of them soaked and beaming.

Later, you moved to the lazy river, the three of you floated together on a large raft, the current carrying you under bridges and past waterfalls. Hannah sat between you and Robby, chattering nonstop about the “big slides” she wanted to try next. Robby’s arm rested casually behind you on the raft, occasionally brushing his fingers over your shoulder. 

You braved a few bigger slides with Hannah while Robby waited at the bottom with open arms to catch her. He went down the steeper ones with her, their laughter echoing as they shot out into the splash pool. You watched from the side, smiling despite yourself at how good he was with her, patient and playful.

By late afternoon, you were all tired, but still decided to head to the open-air resort theater for the karaoke night. The tables were arranged in an arc around a central stage. You sat at a table near the front with Hannah comfortably settled on your lap. She wore her favorite sundress, her hair still slightly damp from the evening shower. In her small hands, she held a colorful fruity mocktail with a paper umbrella and a slice of pineapple on the rim. She watched performer after performer take the stage, clapping enthusiastically for every single one, whether they were hilariously off-key or surprisingly talented.

Robby sat right beside you, he had switched to margaritas after dinner and was now on his third or fourth. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink, and his smile came easier, the alcohol had softened the edges that usually existed between you, but you kept your guard firmly in place, hyper-aware of the weight of his arm behind you and the occasional brush of his fingers against your shoulder

The host, a charismatic man stepped up to the microphone scanning the crowd. “Alright, folks, next up we have Michael Robinavitch! Michael, the stage is all yours.”

Your stomach dropped instantly. You froze, asking yourself if you’d heard right, because karaoke was something Robby would never, ever, do. But then again, this wasn’t normal Robby, this was Robby after four margaritas that inhibited any level of self-awareness he had. “Robby… where are you going? What are you doing?”

He stood up with a bright, slightly tipsy smile that lit up his whole face. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Hannah’s head, then straightened. “You’ll see,” he said.

He walked toward the stage with confidence, the stage lights catching on the slight sway in his step from the margaritas. The crowd quieted with anticipation as he took the microphone. For a moment, he just stood there, looking out over the audience, until his eyes found yours across the tables. A heart-stopping smile spread across his face.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began. “My name is Michael Robinavitch.” He scanned the audience again until his gaze locked directly on you. “This song goes out to the love of my life.” He pointed straight at you, and heads turned. Dozens of eyes shifted your way all at once. Heat flooded your face in an instant, a deep and mortifying warmth that burned from your chest all the way to your ears. 

You wanted the sand beneath the theater to open up and swallow you whole. You sank lower in your seat, wishing you could disappear. Robby didn’t stop. “No, not only the love of my life. She’s the woman of my life. She’s the mother of my child. Look at them, aren’t they the most beautiful ladies in the world?”

The crowd let out a collective and heartfelt “Awww.” Some people clapped, a few whistled. Hannah waved happily at her dad from your lap, completely thrilled and oblivious to your embarrassment. “Daddy’s singing for us, Mommy!” she whispered excitedly, bouncing a little.

The opening notes of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing began playing, and Robby’s voice came through the speakers, rough around the edges from the margaritas, but surprisingly in tune despite being a terrible singer. He sang directly to you, keeping his eyes locked on yours the entire time, as if no one else existed.

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you’re far away and dreaming…”

Embarrassment burned through every inch of you. Your cheeks were on fire, and you covered your face with one hand, peeking through your fingers. 

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…”

Hannah bounced happily on your lap, clapping along. “Daddy sounds so good! He’s singing for you, Mommy!”

Robby poured everything into the chorus, his voice rising with emotion, and cracking slightly on the high notes but full of feeling.

“Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing…”

He pointed at you and Hannah again during the song, his gaze never wavering. The crowd was completely swept up, some singing along, others watching the three of you with fond, smiling faces. You felt painfully exposed, seen in a way that terrified you, and yet terrifyingly wanted and loved in front of all these strangers. 

When the final notes faded, the audience erupted in loud applause and cheers. He gave a small, humble bow, grinning widely. He didn’t step off the stage immediately, instead, he raised the microphone again. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at the crowd. “I just want to say one more thing before I go. I was an idiot. I did some things I regret. I let fear and work, and my own stubbornness get in the way of the best things in my life.” He looked straight at you. “But this woman right here… and our beautiful daughter… they are the best thing that ever happened to me. All I want is another chance to fix it. To do it right this time.”

The crowd reacted instantly, followed by scattered cheers and shouts of encouragement. Someone near the back yelled, “Give the man another chance!” More voices joined in, “Yeah, go for it!” until it became a playful chant rippling across the theater. 

Robby finally stepped off the stage, making his way back to your table amid the lingering applause. Hannah launched herself into his arms the moment he sat down. “Daddy! You sang so good for Mommy!”

You stared at him, your heart still racing from the public love declaration and the serenade. You leaned in close so only he could hear. “You’re an idiot, Robby.”

He turned to you, so close that the scent of tequila and his cologne wrapped around you again. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” 

You wanted to push him away, to stay angry about the public spectacle and the way he kept blurring every boundary. But with Hannah happily chattering between you two about how “Daddy is the best singer ever,” and the crowd still occasionally glancing your way with fond smiles, it was impossible to ignore the pull.

 “Every single word was true.” He brushed your shoulder gently. “I lost so many years, so much time, so many memories I let go because of how I felt, and now the thought of missing one single moment with you kills me. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

You had to blink back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. For the first time, you believed every single word that left his lips, no doubting, no second-guessing, no walls left to hide behind. After days of fighting him, of pushing back against every word and lingering touch, all you wanted was to pull him close, to bury your face in his chest and tell him you wanted the same thing. That every second you’d wasted fighting him was a second the two of you could have been together, laughing, touching. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” you swallowed. “When you’re not four margaritas in.”

The next morning, you woke before Hannah. You glanced at Robby in the other queen bed. He was still asleep, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach, the sheet low on his hips. You moved quietly and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. For a long moment you just watched him, the morning light highlighting the white hair on his jaw and the lines around his eyes. 

Then Robby stirred, fluttering his eyes open slowly, focusing on you with sleepy confusion that quickly shifted into something softer, almost disbelieving. “Am I dreaming?” he murmured as he blinked a few times, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Why are you in bed with me?”

You stayed seated on the edge with your hands in your lap. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

He rubbed his face with one hand, still half-asleep. “We went to the water park? Hannah loved the slides…”

“Not that, idiot,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Later. The karaoke.”

Robby froze. His eyes widened as the memories clearly flooded back. He let out a long groan and dropped back onto the pillow, covering his face with both hands. “Oh yeah… Jesus. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I bet you’re regretting it now.”

He lowered his hands slowly. “I might be deeply embarrassed. But I don’t regret it. I wanted to do something romantic for you. Something that showed you how I feel.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light even as your pulse quickened. “Yeah? Nothing more romantic than singing off-key Aerosmith in front of a hundred strangers.”

Robby chuckled and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. “Come on, it wasn’t that off-key.” His eyes met yours. “I meant every single word I said. About not wanting to miss another second without you. About you and Hannah being the best things that ever happened to me. About wanting another chance.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest, breaking down your defences more and more each day. “I heard you loud and clear, Robby.”

Hannah stirred slightly in the other bed but didn’t wake. You stood up slowly, smoothing your sleep shirt. “I’m gonna head to the pools for a bit before she wakes up.”

Robby sat up straighter. “You can’t.”

You turned back to him, raising your eyebrow. “Why not?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish again. “Yesterday I… booked us dancing lessons on the beach. Salsa. For this morning.”

You stared at him. “And why the hell did you do that? Why didn’t you ask me first? I don’t wanna go.”

He let out a helpless laugh. “I don’t know. I was drunk and thought dancing salsa with you on the beach sounded like a great idea at the time.”

You crossed your arms. “Well, I’m not going.”

“Please go with me,” he said wofter now, almost pleading. He looked at you with those warm brown eyes that had always been able to weaken your resolve. “I’ll behave. I promise. Otherwise I’m gonna have to dance with the teacher, and that would be even more embarrassing than last night.”

You stood there in the quiet morning light, part of you still wanted to say no, to keep the boundaries firm, to protect the distance you’d fought so hard to maintain. But you knew if it wasn’t this, then he’d simply come up with another way of putting the two of you together in another situation. Being with him for these days had softened you more than you cared to admit, it had all worn down your defenses. And after every honest word he’d laid bare last night, combined with the way he was looking at you now with that sheepish, boyish smile and those earnest eyes that always saw straight through you, it made it very hard to keep saying no.

After dropping Hannah off at the resort’s supervised kids’ activities center, where she immediately ran off with a group of children to do crafts and play games, you and Robby walked the shaded pathways toward the beach.

The beach dancing area was set up in a beautiful, semi-private cove framed by gently curving palm trees and large rocks. The instructor, a local man, welcomed you both with open arms. “Perfect timing!. Come, come, partners, face each other. We start with the basic steps.”

Robby was a terrible dancer. He tried, God, he tried so hard, but his movements were initially stiff and awkward, his hips resisting the rhythm. He settled his hands on your bare waist with visible hesitation at first, but that hesitation quickly melted into something much hungrier. 

The first time the instructor called for a basic side step and Robby pulled you in, he pressed his palm firmly against the small of your back, splaying his fingers wide as if he needed to feel as much of you as possible. 

The heat of his touch burned straight through your skin, sending a spark racing up your spine. “Like this?” Robby asked the instructor as he attempted the next step.

His thigh accidentally slid between your legs for balance during a turn, pressing close for a second longer than necessary. You felt the warmth of him, the subtle shift of his hips, and heat pooled in your belly.

The instructor laughed good-naturedly. “Looser hips, my friend! Feel the music. Let it move you.”

Robby tried again, pulling you closer on the next basic. He brushed his chest against yours with every step, the thin fabric of his shirt and your bikini top did nothing to hide the heat of his body.

“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered close to your ear, his breath warm against your neck. He slid his hand a little lower on your back, digging his fingers in with hunger. “But I like having an excuse to hold you like this.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the beat. “You’re terrible at this.”

He grinned as he dipped you slightly on the instructor’s cue. “But I’m trying. For you.” 

His body was pressed flush against yours, his hips rolling in what was supposed to be a salsa step but felt far more intimate. The subtle grind, the way his thigh stayed between yours for balance, the hungry way in which he dropped his to your mouth and lower, to the swell of your breasts, made your skin tingle everywhere he touched. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears, almost drowning out the music. Every turn, every close hold, every time his hands guided your hips, the tension built higher. He traced possessive circles on your lower back with his fingers. When the music slowed for a moment to practice a more sensual move, he looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, like he wanted to devour every inch of you right there on the sand in front of everyone.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You’d tried to fight every single advance he’d made since you both arrived. You’d tried to ignore the way he looked, more tan from the sun, those charming freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, his soft body on full display in nothing but swim trunks. You’d tried to pretend you weren’t affected by the flood of memories rushing back every time he got close, or by the fantasies of what life could look like if you finally let him in. And you were bone-tired of pretending you didn’t want the same thing. Exhausted from denying yourself what your body craved so much, his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing you down, the way only he could make you fel.

Mid-step, you grabbed Robby’s hand tightly and started walking, pulling him firmly away from the group and down the beach. The ocean breeze tried cooling the flush on your skin but did nothing to calm the fire in your belly.

Robby stumbled slightly to keep up, surprised but not resisting. “Where are we going?”

You didn’t slow down, already scanning the shoreline ahead. “We’re going to have sex.”

He let out a startled and deep laugh that sent another shiver racing through you. A second later the laugh faded into pure disbelief. “Wait… are you serious?”

You kept walking, your breath coming faster as the arousal intensified with every second that went by without feeling Robby’s touch. “Yes, Michael.”

Robby’s grip on your hand tightened. “Let’s go back to the room then. No risk of anyone seeing—”

“It’s too far,” you cut him off, your voice breathy with need. “And they’re probably cleaning it right now.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, half-aroused, half-amused. “So what? We’re doing it in the wild?”

You glanced back at him, the corner of your mouth twitching despite the heat flooding your body. “Michael, it’s the beach, not the wilderness.”

“Excuse me,” he said, still laughing softly but with clear hunger in his eyes, “But I really like this resort. I don’t want to get banned for life from this chain.”

You stopped for a second, turning to look at him fully. Your voice dropped to a more direct and impatient tone. “You wanna fuck or not?”

His expression shifted instantly, completely undone. “Yes please.”

“Good, then stop complaining.” You kept walking until you found a good spot: a small, semi-secluded cove partially shielded by large rocks and leaning palm trees. The sand here was softer, shaded in patches by the foliage, with a clear but private view of the ocean. You pulled him behind the largest rock formation and Robby followed without hesitation, his hands already sliding to your waist the moment you stopped. The hunger in his touch matched the fire burning in your veins. He pressed you back against the smooth, sun-warmed rock, his body crowding yours, mouth hovering just inches from yours, breath ragged. The tension that had been building since the massage, since the karaoke, since the entire trip finally snapped.

The moment you pulled Robby behind the large, sun-warmed rock, the rest of the world fell away, all that existed was the heat between you, the desperate need that had been simmering since the very beginning of this trip.

You surged forward and kissed him. Robby met you instantly, a hungry sound rumbling in his chest as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth was hot and demanding, and his fingers dug into your hips with desperation. He kissed you like a man who had been starving ever since the last night you shared together, sweeping his tongue into your mouth, claiming, while he slid one up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it.

He broke the kiss just enough to breathe against your lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Every single night since we got here. I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

You smiled against his mouth, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. “All your stupid tricks finally worked.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he roamed his hands restlessly over your body, down your sides, cupping your ass, pulling you harder against the growing hardness in his swim trunks. “All I did was to try and prove you how much I love you,” he murmured. “I want to be with you. Not just fuck you again. I want everything. You, Hannah, us as a family. That’s all it’s ever been about.”

Your hand slid down between you, palming the hard and thick outline of his cock through the fabric. He hissed sharply, jerking his hips forward into your touch. “It was torture,” he rasped, against your ear, “seeing you in that bikini every single day and not being able to touch you. Not being able to do this.”

You squeezed him gently, stroking the length of him through his trunks. “Maybe I wanted to touch your body too.”

He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan as you rubbed your thumb over the fat head. “I know. I could see the way you watched me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of Robby’s swim trunks and pushed them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, the thick vein along the underside pulsed visibly as you wrapped your hand around the base, your fingers barely able to close fully around his girth. You stroked him slowly from base to tip, savoring the way he throbbed powerfully in your grip. “It’s your fault for having this fucking body,” you whispered. “It’s just my type.”

Robby let his head fall back against the rock with a moan, bucking his hips into your fist. “I was right,” he managed to say. “That guy the other day at the beach… he wasn’t your type, was he?”

You swept your thumb over the head on every upstroke, spreading the leaking precum and making him even wetter. Robby groaned deeply, jerking forward into your fist as you twisted your wrist just the way he liked, squeezing a little tighter on the way back down. “Please. That guy lacked everything I love in you.”

“Fuck… your hand feels so good,” he rasped. “Been dying to feel you touch me again.” He cursed under his breath, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. 

You sank slowly to your knees in the sand, until Robby’s cock stood right in front of you, flushed a deep, needy red at the head and already leaking a steady bead of precum. You looked up at him through your lashes, taking in the sight of him towering above you. 

As you wrapped one hand around the thick base, the heat of him pulsed strongly against your palm, the weight and girth of him making your mouth water. You started slow, torturously slow. Leaning in, you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the leaking tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter bead of precum that had gathered there. Robby’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as a whimper escaped from his chest. You kissed it again, slower this time, letting your lips linger as you savored the skin stretched tight over the swollen head. 

Then you dragged your tongue in a wet circle around it, tracing every ridge and vein, feeling the way he twitched and throbbed against your tongue with every pass. “Fuck… baby,” he groaned, already wrecked and sounding hoarse. One of his hands came down to gently grab your hair, trembling slightly as his fingers carded through the strands. “Come on… please… Take a little more, baby.”

You smiled against the slick head, barely parting your lips to take just the tip into the wet heat of your mouth. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue lazily around him, giving him only the lightest, teasing pressure. Robby’s moan was loud and needy, his thighs were trembling as he fought the powerful urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to speak, brushing your lips still against the glistening tip, a thin string of saliva connecting you. “You’ve been thinking about this the whole trip, haven’t you?” 

Robby closed his eyes for a second and nodded, almost like he was in pain. Then you took him deeper, sucking more of his length into your mouth. You hollowed our cheeks as you worked him with deliberate bobs of your head, savoring every inch. The taste of him, the salty skin that was so uniquely Robby, made you moan around his cock. The vibration drew another loud, desperate whimper from deep in his throat. 

You remembered every little trick he used to love from years ago, the way he liked the flat of your tongue pressing firmly along the sensitive underside, followed immediately by soothing suction, the way you hollowed your cheeks on the upstroke to create that perfect tight pressure. You did them all, eagerly and hungrily, losing yourself in the heavy weight of him on your tongue and the broken, needy sounds he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried.

You slid your free hand between his spread legs, cupping and gently rolling his heavy balls, massaging them with careful pressure. Robby’s head fell back against the rock with a guttural groan that was almost too loud for the public setting. His hips stuttered forward, chasing the wet heat of your mouth as he fought for control.

“God… your mouth,” he panted, forcing his eyes to stay open. He couldn’t stop watching you, the way your lips stretched obscenely around his cock, the spit glistening on your chin and dripping down his shaft, the lust-drunk look in your eyes as you took him deeper with every bob of your head. “I can’t… fuck. You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me.”

You moaned again around him, and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing the dark, untrimmed hair at his base, holding him there for a long moment while your throat worked around him. You continued playing with his balls, gently tugging and rolling them, feeling them draw up tight as his pleasure built. 

Robby’s whimpers turned into full, unrestrained moans. He tightened his fingers almost painfully in your hair as he began rocking his hips shallowly, fucking your mouth with tiny movements. Spit dripped down your chin, coating your hand as you stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach, twisting your wrist on every upstroke just the way he liked.

You pulled off just enough to gasp for air, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing cock. “You gotta be quiet,” you whispered, “if you don’t want to attract an audience.”

Robby let out a shaky laugh that quickly dissolved into another deep moan as you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his cock, tongue pressing firmly against the thick vein there.

“I can’t… I can’t be quiet when I’m finally feeling your mouth again. Fuck, I’ve missed this so much. Missed you so fucking much.”

You took him back in without warning, sucking harder and faster now. Robby’s moans grew louder, more needy, his body trembling as he fought the edge, his thighs shaking beside your head. “Baby… I’m close,” he warned, stuttering his hips forward. “So fucking close—”

You kept going, eager to push him over the edge, dying to feel his thick load flooding your mouth, but Robby suddenly pulled you off with a desperate groan. He hauled you up to your feet with strength. His cock, slick and throbbing and coated in your spit, pressed against your stomach. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Not like this. I want more. I want all of you.”

With a growl, he spun you around, pressing your front firmly against the rock. Your cheek rested against the stone as he yanked the ties of your bikini bottoms loose with impatient fingers until the fabric slid down your legs and pooled at your ankles. You kicked it aside impatiently, leaving yourself completely bare from the waist down. 

One of Robby’s large hands slid up your body from behind, slipping under the fabric of your bikini top. His palm was hot as it cupped your breast fully, squeezing the soft flesh with blatant hunger. He found your already hard nipple and rolled it slowly between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight down to your dripping core. You gasped, arching your back and pressing your breast harder into his hand, craving more of that delicious sting.

At the same time, he dipped his other hand between your legs from behind, dragging two thick fingers teasingly through your soaked folds, parting them and spreading your slick arousal everywhere. The wetness coated his fingers as he explored you, rubbing up and down your slit before finally finding your puffy clit. He circled it with the pad of his middle finger, pressing it just right, making your thighs tremble and your knees threaten to buckle against the rock. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” his voice was rough with lust. “This pussy is dripping for me already. You’ve been aching for my cock, huh?”

You moaned loudly and pushed back against his hand desperately. “Robby… I can’t wait anymore,” you gasped. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

He pressed a wet kiss to the back of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth possessively. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.

You felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance, sliding through your slick folds once, twice, teasing you both. Then, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you.

The stretch was like something you never felt before, overwhelming and full, exactly what you’d been craving for days. Robby filled you completely, his cock dragged against every spot inside as he bottomed out with a satisfied groan. 

He stayed there for a long moment, buried to the hilt, both of you breathing hard together, his chest pressed flush against your back, one hand still massaging and kneading your breast, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

Then he started moving, he was slow at first, giving you deep and rolling thrusts that let you feel every single inch of him. Robby snapped his hips forward deliberately, driving his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. The wet sound of skin meeting skin mixed beautifully with the waves and your shared, breathy moans. 

Robby’s grip on your hip tightened as he gradually picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. “God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned right against your ear. One of his hands left your breast, sliding down your body until it reached your ass. He grabbed a full, greedy handful of the rounded flesh, squeezing hard enough to leave marks as he spread you open wider for him, pulling your cheeks apart so he could watch every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside your greedy pussy. Your arousal coated his shaft, strings of wetness connecting you every time he pulled back, only to slam in deeper. “So tight… so wet for me. Been thinking about this pussy every single day on this trip. You’re creaming all over me, baby. Can you feel how deep I am?”

You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every powerful thrust. The rock was warm against your front, your breasts kept rubbing against it with every movement. He leaned over you more, changing the angle so he could fuck you even deeper, snapping his hips forward with raw purpose now. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine. Say it.”

You could only moan in response at first, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. “Y-yours.”

He grabbed your hips with both hands, digging his fingers in hard as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. “Fuck, Robby… harder,” you gasped, still pushing back against him. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growled, slamming into you deeper. “Not gonna stop until you’re coming all over my cock.”

You moaned louder, unable to hold back. Robby’s hand left your hip and slid up your body, pressing two fingers firmly against your lips. “Suck on them,” he growled hotly against your skin. “Before someone hears how well I’m fucking you. Be a good girl for me.”

You parted your lips obediently, taking his fingers deep into your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, swirling your tongue around the digits just like you had around his cock earlier. Robby groaned deeply at the feeling of your muffled moans against his fingers, his hips slamming into you harder.

With his other hand, Robby found your swollen, aching clit. He pressed his digit firmly against the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles with exactly the pressure he knew drove you wild. He alternated between teasing strokes and faster, more insistent ones, never letting the rhythm become predictable. The dual sensation was devastating, not only his cock stretching and pounding into you from behind, but now his fingers working your clit relentlessly. 

“That’s it,” he rasped as he fucked you even deeper. “Suck my fingers while I ruin this pussy. You’re so fucking wet for me. Been thinking of it since the dance lesson, haven’t you? I could feel how soaked you were the whole time I was touching you.”

You moaned around his fingers, the sound vibrating against them as you sucked harder. Your legs shook uncontrollably. “Come for me,” he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “I want to feel you squeezing my cock when you cum. Let me feel how much you need this. How much you’ve been aching for me.”

The tension snapped, your orgasm crashing over you hard and suddenly. You cried out around his fingers, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick cock, fluttering and squeezing him tightly as waves of overwhelming pleasure rolled through your entire body. 

Robby’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck… you feel so good when you cum. So tight. I’m so close, baby.” He kept fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out with deep strokes, his fingers still rubbing your oversensitive clit in gentler circles. His voice was completely wrecked when he spoke again. “Can I finish inside? Please… I need to fill you up. I need to cum inside you.”

You pulled off his fingers just enough to gasp out. “Yes. Cum inside me. Fill me up, Robby. I want it so much.”

That was all he needed. Robby buried himself as deep as possible with a broken moan as he came. You felt every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting through it, as if he wanted to push every single drop of his fat load as far inside you as possible. His body trembled against yours as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck, breathing raggedly against your sweat-slicked skin.

Robby wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close as he softened inside you, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His cum slowly leaked down your thigh in sticky trails, mixing with your own wetness. 

Eventually, you shifted, feeling the pleasant ache between your legs and the reality of where you were. You reached down, picked up your discarded bikini bottoms from the sand, and slowly tied them back on with slightly shaky fingers. Robby stayed close, resting his hands on your hips, stroking circles with his thumbs as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“We should go pick up Hannah,” you said softly, still sounding a little hoarse.

Robby didn’t move right away, he turned you gently to face him, cupping your face with his hands. “Wait,” he murmured. “What does this mean? Just admit it and stop fooling yourself. Tell me you want this as much as I do. That you want to be with me too. That you never minded sharing a room, or getting a couple’s massage, or taking dancing lessons. Tell me you actually like spending time together like this.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache, and after an intense orgasm like the one he’d just given you, you couldn’t even fool yourself. You took a slow breath. “Yes… I do,” you admitted. “I like being with you, Robby. I like the sex. I like how you make me laugh. I like talking to you. I like… all of it.” His eyes lit up with hope, but you continued before he could speak. “But what happens with me? What happens with Hannah if you change your mind? If the charm wears off once we’re back home, dealing with real life.”

Robby’s expression turned serious, almost pained. He cupped your face more firmly, brushing your cheeks. “I wouldn’t go through all of this if I weren’t a hundred percent sure of what I feel and what I want. Hannah is the most important thing in my life. I’d die before hurting her. Or you. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

You searched his eyes, tears pricking at the corners of yours. “How can I believe you?”

He smiled softly, a little sheepish. “I sang in front of a crowd for you. That has to count for something.”

You laughed despite yourself. “This whole trip has been so nice… but real life isn’t a beach resort with massages and dancing lessons.”

Robby pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you when you’re tired from work. Sweaty, your hair a mess, exhausted. I want the long nights when we’re both too drained to speak, and the fights when we’re frustrated and still choose each other every single day. I want all of it.” He kissed you softly, then pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Please… I’ve missed so much already, don’t let me miss another thing.”

You smiled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. You leaned in and kissed him again, slow and deep, full of everything you’d been holding back. When you pulled away, he searched your face with hopeful eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You smiled wider. “It’s a maybe.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “Say yes.”

You laughed softly against his lips. “Maybe.”

Another kiss, sweeter. “Yes?”

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes.”

Your reblog doesn’t just support me as a writer, it also helps this reach the people who read the first part, so please consider taking 0.00001 second to click that button, it’s free!!💜

A/N: I feel like, the way it happens in a lot of media, second parts are never quite as good as the first one. But people wanted a second part, and I wanted to write one too, so here’s what I came up with. I hope it wasn’t too long or boring. I’m so thankful for all the love and support the first part got. It genuinely makes me so happy to see that people enjoyed it🥹

There’s honestly so much I could write about these two, but it already felt long as it is. I don’t think I’ll write a third part, to be honest.

@blacpiink @fallout-girl219 @tpwklizzie @tlc3802 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns

as you stare down at the positive test in your hands, the overwhelming urge to be sick in the toilet you’re currently sat on tugs at your stomach.

your fingers tremble around their hold on the stick, eyes beginning to burn as your vision grows foggy.

“you still good in there?”

samira.

you swallow harshly, sucking in a breath that gets lodged in your chest and sits there like a permanent reminder that this is real. reluctantly, with sweat starting to dot across your nape, you swing the stall door open.

the brunettes brows pinch as she pushes off the adjacent wall, arms crossed as she takes a few steps forward. then her expression shifts, more steady than yours but sharing a similar panic.

“shit.”

“yeah.” you sigh, hoping the continuous, deep breaths will calm the way your pulse has become erratic.

“was this intentional?” you can tell by the hesitant look on her face she most likely knows the answer, she just wants it confirmed to her. you’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so busy nearly hyperventilating, sniffing as the accumulation of tears has caused your nose to run.

“no.”

“do you want this?”

“i don’t know,” children, it’s a conversation you’d never had. you’d been focused on your career for years now, something so very important and overall time consuming you’d never stopped to really think about it. did you want kids? even if you did, it wasn’t the right time, you were still an R2, your life was constantly hectic, “i’ve never put much thought into it.”

“how will you tell him?”

your eyes squeeze shut. that was the first thing that came to mind when the two lines appeared. how would he react? would he lash out at you? no, he wasn’t that kind of man, you knew him better than that.

“will you tell him?”

your eyes snap open at that, gaze darting up to land on samira who’s looking at you with an expression that makes you want to shrink. sympathy, she was a sympathizer after all.

“of course i’m gonna tell him,” even if you wish it was all just a dream, and any second you’d wake up and it would all have just been-, “but what if he reacts badly?”

samira hums, like she’d thought of that as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

“honestly, i don’t know how to answer that for you, but what i’ve seen, he’s a pretty good guy,” somehow she always knows what to say, and you appreciate her words, “plus if anything happens, you still have me. and mel, and pretty much everyone, you’re well liked.”

you laugh softly, wiping at a tear that escapes your eye.

“you’re just saying all that to make you feel better.”

samira smiles.

“doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“thanks, seriously.” you stand, capping the pregnancy test and pocketing it before passing samira to wash your hands. your eyes meet your own in the mirror, soap lathering as scalding water runs over your palms. the warmth is a decent distraction from hoping no one will notice your now puffy cheeks and wet lashes.

samira raises her brows at you through the mirror.

“will you be okay?” you’re not sure how to respond, hands gripping the edge of the sink counter. your eyes meet hers.

you decide to just nod.

“hey, can we talk?” you jog up to where robby stands in the ambulance bay several hours later, hands in his jacket pockets. he turns to you as you stop beside him. there’s a look on his face you can’t place, maybe fatigue, something you’ve seen countless times before and yet different.

“yeah, we need too,” those words throw you a bit off balance, and suddenly you’re anxious that maybe he found out before you could tell him, “and fortunately, i have a minute.”

“great, um,” you falter, heart rate picking up as you glance down at you sneakers, “it’s kind of important.”

robby looks at you again, this time however, you see a hint of concern behind his rough exterior, one he doesn’t hide but is picky with who gets to witness it. although just as soon at it appears, his face falls blank, forehead lines deepening as his brows furrow.

he motions for you to speak, an action so unlike him you stumble over your words.

“oh, uh, you go first, mine will kinda need a conversation,” you grimace at the way you stutter, so foreign to you yet so human in your worries as the attending in front of you just stares, “seriously, tell me.”

your smile is brief, full and bright as the man takes a deep breath, the corners of your mouth falling in tandem with your heart as his next sentence renders you speechless.

“we need to end this.”

what.

you pause, taken aback.

“what?” robby sighs at your response, turning away from you and shaking his head like he didn’t say something that’s left you nearly gasping for air even while outside.

“i’m ending it,” and you feel a sting across your face as if you’ve been slapped, accompanied by a painful throbbing in your chest, “our relationship, fling, whatever you’d like to call it.”

fling? is that how he saw it? sure he said relationship first, but to throw out that other word? is that really all it’s been to him?

“i love you.”

“mmm it’s mutual.” is giggled as you’re perched in his lap, nuzzling into his scruff as he nurses a scotch.

“that’s what you wanted to tell me?” it’s like your senses can’t process this information, the incessant buzzing in your head growing as the seconds tick by.

robby nods, lips forming a tight line.

“i think it’s best to end this before it gets too serious, before my sabbatical.”

your knees wobble, eyes blinking rapidly as tears begin to form.

“how’d you find me?” the sun sets beyond the horizon.

“would you believe me if i told you i looked in every room?” robby walks up beside you, shrugging off his jacket at the sight of a shiver running across your arms. the smell of the anti septic and his cologne invade your nose as the fabric is draped over your shoulders.

you laugh, face suddenly warmer.

“do you offer your jacket to all your residents?”

he smiles, crooked and real.

“only the ones i look in every room for.”

you can feel the test in your pocket, practically burning through the cotton of your zip up as you stand unable to even move.

“oh, okay,” is all that comes out at first, choked up and coming out less assertive than you had intended, “that’s.. really how you feel?”

you miss the way robby glances at you, the look he gives you as you stare down at the pavement, blinking back the glossiness to your eyes.

“yes.” it’s definite. almost like he’s been thinking about this for awhile, and yeah, he’s been a bit withdrawn lately but you wouldn’t have expected this.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, fingers fidgeting against your jackets hem, the pitter patter of rain begins against the overhang.

“can we talk about this?” you plead, taking a step towards the man.

“ambulance is en route,” that’s all he says, like he can’t be bothered to discuss the bomb he just dropped, “now isn’t the time.” ouch.

“alright,” it’s not alright, and you think you might be sick all over the pavement, “i get it.”

you don’t.

you want to demand an explanation, grab his arm, beg him to tell you why and then convince him to stay.

maybe it’s the hormonal shift, maybe the way the rain has begun to come down harder. but you just want to summon the courage, something so suddenly broken in you just wants to cower away and lick your wounds.

you ignore the throbbing in your chest, the way your body sways at the fear setting in, and you simply turn, and walk back inside.

“she’s an R1?” brows raise.

“about to be on year 2, she’s-,”

“and you’re her superior?”

robby listens to your footsteps fade into the distance, until the doors shut and the howl of wind against the weather leaves him in silence.

his eyes focus on a pebble beside his shoe, watching it roll as he kicks at it. his eyes shut, head leaning back as the sound of sirens grow near. his hearing makes the distant screeching somewhat fuzzy, eyes suddenly snapping open and body lurching forward.

he holds a closed first to the front of his mouth, inhaling deep breaths to calm the way bile has risen in his throat. he swallows it down, sweat dotting his forehead as the gravity of the silence around him sinks in.

he inhales again, this time slightly choking on the air.

his head shakes, face pulling into a pained grimace.

“fuck.”

he kicks the pebble again, this time sending it halfway across the parking lot as the ambulance pulls up.

“i can’t take this.” robby is compelled by your tone, the way your voice is heavy and desperate. he steps closer, body heaving unsteady breaths as you don’t move away.

his hands raise to his hair, ruffling the short brown locks. he sighs, a noise that pulls a sound of complaint from your throat.

“don’t, don’t act like i’m imagining things,” your voice is quiet, almost so much so robby nearly misses it, then your confidence seems to dim, “but… just tell me i am, and i’ll back off.”

his eyes snaps to yours.

“back off?” you shrink beneath his gaze.

“yes, i-,”

“you think i want that?” you’re unsure if that’s rhetorical, you almost laugh.

“michael,” you’re exasperated, “i’m asking you!”

the breath he takes is fast and shallow, head cocking to the side.

“it’s exactly that.”

you falter.

“sorry, what is?” you’re flushed warm to your ears as the man takes another bold step into your personal space, your back gently coming in contact with the wall behind you. you gasp at the startling contact, jaw shutting seconds after when a half bent arm is pressed beside your head.

then he’s leaning in, so close you can practically feel his bodies warmth, feel his breath across your face. he smells like cheap break room espresso, hand sanitizer, that heady musk of someone who’s been on their feet all day. every breath you take is just robby, it’s everywhere, all around you.

“you.”

you lick your lips, trying not to tremble at the way his eyes follow the movement of your tongue.

“you greeting me in the morning like i haven’t spent another sleepless night thinking of only you,” you feel something throb behind your ribs, “always so sweet to me, too good for what i deserve.”

you want to correct him, place a hand on his cheek and tell him that’s not how you see it. not at all. but before you can move against your outwardly nervous hesitation, he’s lifting one of your hands and placing the palm firm against his sternum.

you can feel the way his heart is beating, it’s fast, skipping a beat as your touch presses to him.

“you’re not imagining anything.”

you smile, fingers digging into the open zipper part of his navy zip up, pulling him down to meet your lips. his hands come up to cradle the sides of your face, fingers rough and calloused against your delicate skin.

your spine sparks with tingles as one of his hands drops to caress your back, holding your body steady against his.

as you pull away, you can’t contain the soft laughter that follows.

“i was wondering when you’d say something.”

“are you.. okay?” trinity is staring at you like any minute you’ll fall over.

“yeah,” and she’s not wrong on that assumption, considering the slightly slurred way you responded, “totally.”

the totally is choked up as vomit rises in your throat, lips shutting tight as you squeeze your eyes shut and place your forehead against the nurses station. trinity scowls, stepping back.

you sigh against the cold counter, not bothering to think about any germs you’re currently pressing your face against. your knees shake, joints burning as you stand.

a chart is handed off above your head, groaning as the back of someone’s hand presses into your forehead.

“you’re hot.” cassie.

“thanks.” is muffled.

you can practically feel the eye roll.

“kid, your temperature.” the redhead smiles down at you, removing her hand from your face.

“wait, you’re sick?” dennis walks up, eyeing the board as he does.

“she’s definitely coming down with something gross.” trinity retorts from her position still a yard or so away, looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb of contagion.

it’s probably morning sickness, you think.

“fuck off,” you snap, well, as tough as you can despite the crack in your voice and the shiver down your spine, “i’m not contagious, trust me.”

the three of your colleagues watching your utter misery exchange looks as they hold back laughter.

“where’s the ducklings?” trinity refers to joy and oglivie.

“um, probably causing problems i’ll have to clean up.”

the clock ticks, the board updates.

chaos unfolds within mere seconds.

heavy footsteps echo as dana runs towards the little group thats accumulated.

“we’ve got a mvc 5 minutes out, it’s all hands on deck,” she’s rushing, going through all the paces of preparing for a massive trauma, her rapid gaze slows as it focuses on you, her brow quirks, “is she alright.”

cassie pulls a face, glancing down at you as more commotion fills the ED.

emma runs past carrying too much gauze, nearly slipping on the floor as she rounds a corner.

“i’m fine,” you able yourself to stand, holding back tears as a wave of pain shoots down your midsection, “totally fine.”

you briefly scan the ED, eyes landing on samira who’s saying goodbye to an older patient. she turns, eyes immediately landing on you as if she knew she was in your sights. her brows furrow, face growing taut with a look of concern you’ve seen on her many times before. she mouths a ‘are you okay?’ and you nod, a slow, steady motion as to now further nauseate yourself.

you attempt a smile, the curve dropping the second robby walks around the corner in a conversation with abbot.

“we need to talk.” you finally managed to get robby alone, albeit it’s the break room, but it’ll have to do.

he says your name, and it practically tears your heart in two.

“i can’t do this right now.” you want to scoff at his words.

“well when can you, especially considering you’re leaving tonight off to god knows where.” he’s been avoiding you for days, 3 whole days of acting uncomfortably professional whenever you interact. and can’t exactly confide in anyone about the breakup, no one even knew the the relationship to begin with.

excluding samira, and at least you could rely on her.

“its like you can’t even look at me,” you gesture towards him, watching how he evades eye contact, “case and point.”

“i have a patient to check on.”

“we always have patients to check on.”

robby stands, making his way to the door, still without glancing at your face.

“michael-,”

he says your name in a way that has you inhaling deeply, heart picking up and eyes growing glossy. you suck it up, it’s now or never.

“please, just listen.”

maybe it’s a stroke of luck, or maybe he’s just decided to pity you, but it’s a chance the minute his eyes meet yours.

“i’m pr-,”

“robby, we need you.” javadi pauses in the threshold, eyes wide and panicked. you don’t hesitate to step aside, making space for robby as he casts you a look you can’t quite read right before leaving.

there’s blood streaked across the white, tile floor. footprints trailing away from it, wheel tracks where gurneys had been moved. there isn’t much time to worry about that however as your hands are currently busy giving compressions.

you’re breathing heavy as you do so, trying to ignore a drop of sweat that dips through your brow and stings your eye. it’s cold, the ac is on high, you can feel the cool air on the back of your neck. although it’s doing nothing against the heat your body has built up.

you inhale, the thick smell of iron entering your nostrils and practically coating the inside of your mouth.

something tugs at your gut, then lower, a dull sensation rapidly beginning to cramp painfully.

“16 gauge bore iv going in,” that’s abbot, he’s to your right and although he’s inches away you think it could also be miles, your vision blurs, the sounds around you fade into a indistinct hum, “… .. ….”.

you think you hear your name, body faltering slightly as you miss the count of the compressions.

it’s louder, more demanding.

you blink, tasting lemon as your uterus attempts to tear itself from the front of your stomach when,

“are you alright, doctor,” is followed by your name, direct and mildly, by your own standards, irritated, “if you can’t manage-,”

“sorry?” you blink, heaving through what feel like failing lungs as sweat coats the back of your scrub top.

there’s so much motion in the patient room, blood dripping to the floor, attendings jumping in where they can, two med students huddled in the corner, langdon is across from you, eyes wide as he looks you up and down.

“are you alright?” you swallow at the question.

“yes.”

al-hashimi nods, diligent as ever but trusting in your resolve.

you decide against your prior answer.

“actually, no, someone take over.”

abbot is swift to take your place, casting you a concerned glance as you almost lose your balance taking a few steps back.

the pain roars, stabbing, crawling into your bones and planting itself.

you lean forward, willing yourself to take in air, not allow any more lack of oxygen to make the situation worse.

“what do we have in here?” robby.

he walks in, clearly rushing to gather any useful information as he snaps on a pair of gloves. you can’t even look his way, the slightest movement shooting aches across your lower body. you go to lean your back into the wall behind, rest your head at his heavy it’s grown, when something akin to pure agony rips through your midsection.

you let out a pained gasp, catching the divided attention of your fellow colleagues.

you hear robby speak, something questioning and worried. it doesn’t register, only the faded buzzing of the world around you as it all goes hazy.

“it’s extremely inappropriate.”

robby startles at the unexpected voice of al-hashimi behind him.

“excuse me?”

“your relationship.” she’s blunt, eyes focused on the way robby looks rather perturbed. he clears in his throat.

“it’s also not up for public opinion,” he states, arms crossing, “we don’t need to get personal to work well alongside each other.”

“she’s in her twenties.”

robby feels something in him sink a little. it’s a fact he knew, obviously, one that had kept him from you at the start.

“and she’s allowed to make her own des-,”

“i’m not done.” she doesn’t smile, in fact she looks more serious than he’s ever seen the woman.

“i had a friend in residency, same situation,” she beings to narrate, “but there was a serious power imbalance, and when he went down, he brought her with him.”

robby swallows, eyes casting towards his name badge.

“it’s inappropriate for a reason, and that feeling you have? it’s also for a reason.” she concludes, watching robby shift. he doesn’t look uncomfortable, more in a state of conflicting thoughts racing around his mind.

“food for thought.” her grin is tight and practiced before she walks away.

your vision goes black before you can think to brace for the fall.

end of part one

requests are open!!

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@punksnotdeadbutiam

Thinking many thoughts about this little clip and just how rabbot coded it is.

Maybe even, and walk with me here, boyfriends dads rabbot.

Maybe you’re staying with your boyfriend for a little while over summer break. Maybe some of those days said boyfriend still has tennis or perhaps soccer training meaning he's out for the majority of the morning/early afternoon.

And on those days, the only people still home just so happens to be his two hot, older dads.

You get along, always have since you first met the pair, but that doesn't quell the fuzzy feeling in your gut whenever they interact with you.

The pair find it endearing really, the way you'll slip sometimes, calling them Mr Abbot and Mr Robinavitch instead of Jack and Robby (or Micheal if you'd prefer it). You struggle to keep eye contact with them too, even more so when you trip your words up when responding to questions about yourself. Your degree, your hobbies, what you enjoy to eat, hell, they'll even how your relationship is going with their boy- they're just interested thats all!

But the thing that gets both Jack and Robby chubbing up in their pants like perverted old bastards the most?

How you've spent your time bouncing around the Robinavitch-Abbot household in what must be the skimpest of summer clothes. That bikini that barely covers your tits as you soak up the sun in their garden, or the denim shorts that hardly hides the line of your panties as you sit on the couch reading.

Theres guilt, of course there is, the pair of them perving over their sons girlfriend. But not nearly enough to make them stop thinking about you in ways they shouldn't be. Like how wet you get when worked up or how beautiful your body must be truly bare.

Robby always thinks your lips would look stretched around the girth of them, while Jack ponders the perfect whines you'd let free as you cum.

Its after a long day of sunbathing does everything finally come to a head though

Your skin glistens with a mix of sunscreen and sweat, heart thudding in your chest from the heat. You're boyfriends gone again, has been all day, leaving you, Jack and Robby at home soaking in the summer sun in the backyard.

At lunch you learnt Jack knows a thing or two about making cocktails, by almost dinner you're pretty confident he's got a mean pour.

The world floats by as you lounge on a chair, watching Robby stood by the grill cooking steaks with his own sweating beer. The glass on the table next to you half full, your.. Fourth? Maybe third? Fruity Margarita abandoned as you giggle about something that feels funnier than it is.

Thats the last thing you properly remember- the gruff laughter, the sundrunk haze, Jack and Robby drinking, grilling and hosting like regular older men.

When your eyes blink open again (did you shut them on purpose or did they flutter without you knowing?) the scene is vastly different.

Grey curls sit messily between your plush thighs, hazel eyes peering up lustblown and dark. It hits you then, the intense pleasure of a skilled mouth lapping and lavishing your pussy.

Its hot, wet, perfect and utterly wrong all in one, legs desperate to close around the older mans ears to little avail. Jacks big hands hold you open though, palms flat on your inner thighs, panties of your bathing suit crooked to the side and held steady by two thick fingers.

Your back arches from the lounger, a ragged, breathless gasp ripping from your heaving chest. "O-oh my god!"

The tongue flicks playfully against your clit, before plump lips suckle lewdly, a voice you recognize as Robbys chucking as he sits crouched beside you. "Mm, not quite sweetheart. You wanna that try again?"

The moan breaks with your voice, a hand flying down to those mused salt and pepper curls, tangling tight. "J-jack oh f-fuckk"

"Yeahhh, There you go" he grins wolfish, "s' he makin you feel good kid?"

The nod is jerky, the response even more so. Your hips bump up despite Jack's grip, brain unsure if to run or relish in the overwhelming feeling between your legs; at how fuckig wrong it is to let it continue. "M-mphm y-yeah"

Jack offers some reprive just a moment, unlatching his mouth for just a moment to gravel out "Got you squirmin like no ones done this before, s' our boy holdin out on you honey?"

The question only serves as a reminder these men are your boyfriends fathers, men decades older than you and him. Its wrong, sick, absolutely fucking vile to do to the man you love.. But fuck, his dads devouring you like your sloppy, slick pussy is the only thing left on earth to sustain him. Hes licking you with experience that only comes from enjoyment, suckling like every gasp and whine gives him air.

But in this moment, your hot. Hazy. Utterly drunk of bliss. So you mewl out the truth, jerking your hips to hump at Jack's face like the pleasures the only thing that will keep you alive. "M-mhm.. Says he.. He doesnt like it- fucking shit- that s' not enjoyable-"

"Doesn't like eatin this pretty pussy up, Christ, where'd we go wrong mi- mphmn" Jack murmers incredulous again your folds, stubble rubbing a heavenly kind of pain on your most intimate of areas, fumed point cut off by Robby reaching over a hand that pushes his partner back into your pussy so tight its a wonder he's able to breathe.

"Shhh jack, jus' keep goin. Shes gettin close huh honey?" Robby grins, hand sliding beneath the cups of your bikini top. Your nipples pert and tight as his calloused thumb offers a delightful friction. "Sides, we've gotta correct that bullshit ourselves hm, apologize to that sweet little pussy for everything she's been missin"

Your head is thrown back, hair mused against the chair, your body quivering as the bliss only draws tighter in your gut. Your eyes struggle to stay open between the now setting sun and the onslaught of pleasure. Those plush, still glistening thighs tremble against Jack's touch, one of his hands sliping down to press one, then two, thick digits inside.

You can feel the cool edge of his wedding band bump your hole with each slickened drive, every curl managing to rub at your g spot in a way that only pushes you closer to crumbling.

Then, as quick as Jack's mouth had appeared at your pussy, another sensation has your spine arching almost painfully. Robbys somehow pushed the cup of your top to the side, mouth hot on your skin, his own tongue flicking and teasing at your nipple. His peppered beard making you shake as it rubs your skin with every move he makes.

Its that combo that sends you over the edge with a wail of their names so perfect their chubbed up cocks throb and leak inside the confines of shorts now way too tight. It takes your breath away near violently, the orgasm hitting you so hard you're almost convinced you'll never come back down.

They both keep it up until tears slip down your cheeks, until you're pushing them off and your body is overwhelmingly sensitive. Blood thunders in your ears, hazing over the praise the pair murmer to you.

Jack rises with a groan, shuffling himself forward to meet your mouth in a messy, filthy kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, feel the dampness on his stubble, letting yourself drown in the dopamine a moment longer before you know you'll have to address everything that's just happened..

That is, until hot breath fans over your twitching clit the same but different, you're eyes wide as you dart between Robby who you didn't even realise had moved and Jack.

Robby grins wolfish again, shuffled between your shaking thighs, a large hand pressing on your still heaving belly. Your eyes must look like saucers, lips pouty and bitten raw, peering down with the most doe- like expression.

"Nawh whats that look for?" he coos, pitiful and mocking, inhaling the sweet, musky scent of you in a way that makes your insided lurch. "S'it too much t' take sweetheart? Two old men wantin to lick your sweet pussy?"

"mhm.." you mewl, hand reaching blindly for the loungers edge- for Jack and some semblance of safety. "R-robby please..cant.."

The chuckle is mean, a rumble you feel in the deepest parts of you, hips shifting preemptively to little avail. Robbys gaze drops, as does his wiry haired jaw, his sentiment cut between a broken moan and the envelopement of your puffy clit into the cavern of his mouth.

It took Lyonel two hours to notice your absence from the feast. He turned to whisper something salacious in your ear but found your seat besides his vacant. His eyes darted over the crowded hall, curious at first then irked. The host's wife was supposed to stay by his side. Yet you had wandered off... What could possibly be keeping you from him? When he couldn't find you in the throngs of people, he simply assumed you had gotten bored and told him you were retiring to bed. Perhaps he had simply forgotten about it.

He would regret this assumption for the days to come.

When the party had died down and he had retreated to your marital bed, you had already been asleep. Rather than waking you, he chose to lay beside you and throw his limbs across your body as was his habit. Sleep came quickly after that, the comfort of your flesh a calming presence for his spinning head.

But you hadn't been asleep. The pillow was wet at the corners of your eyes where you'd spent the better part of an hour crying with sadness and frustration at your own emotions. What a silly thing to cry over. What a small word and yet... Your moods were just as volatile as his own, really. Exhaustion hadn't yet claimed you when you had heard him come into the room and bang around the furniture like a drunken stag. You froze, back turned to him. When he climbed in bed and draped himself over you, you shuffled away from his overwhelming clammy heat. Prick, you thought with venom.

In the late hours of the morning when Lyonel woke, he found your side of the bed to be cold and empty where it should have been filled by your warm body. Ready to welcome him with open arms and open legs. There was nothing he loved more than to close off an evening of mirth by taking his time with you the next day. His quiet reward for a successful night of debauchery.

"My love?", he called out drowsily as he turned his head towards you.

You lifted an eyebrow at him from your seat by the fire, flipping a page of your book. You had been up for an hour now and had taken the time to eat and get dressed. While he snored away his drunkenness, you planned your silent revenge.

"Come back to bed.", your husband purred, his arm reaching out in your direction.

When you rose from your chair so did his lips, parting in a wide toothy grin. Your husband and his big, molten brown eyes. His dazzling smile. His soft, greying curls. His looks had been the first thing you had been drawn to, as many other ladies had been. But his humour and challenging attitude had been what had kept you by his side throughout the years. He didn't care for the Gods or for anything besides the two of you remaining content and amused. And besides, he never failed to make you feel worshipped. Especially in bed. Yet he was thoughtless enough to say what he had said...

One look at his open arms and you almost caved right then. Almost.

Instead, you left him in bed by his lonesome. Quietly, you made for the door which slammed behind you. You weren't there to see his beckoning hand fall flat onto the sheets and the confusion that replaced his joy. But you weren't too far to not hear him shout after you.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

─ .✧. ─

You managed to avoid him for the day but once evening came, he found you at your vanity, brushing through your hair with a comb. You were already dressed in that almost transparent shift he loved. The one he had bought for you from a merchant from Pentos. The very same one he had almost torn to shreds the first time you had worn it to bed. Years had passed and yet the effect of the garment was just as potent. It made him crave you in a illogical, pitiful way. Like a stray dog after its next meal.

"There you are! I almost sent guards to fetch you..."

You watched him in the mirror as he crossed the room and placed his hands on your shoulders, bending to kiss your temple. You recoiled from him, jaws clenched and eyes set forward to watch your own reflection this time. His touch felt like a jolt of pure lightning, burning and shocking at once. You almost hissed at him. Throughout the day, your anger and sourness had only grown, threatening to overtake you.

"What is the matter with you today?", your husband asked with surprise.

"Nothing...", you whispered tiredly.

How like him to move on to another subject like water off a duck's back, the matter settled in that thick head of his. No, not quite. It was as if nothing had ever happened. A passing storm cloud, never low enough for rain. The rumbling of thunder far off in the distance. Just once you would have liked to make him feel like you were feeling right then. Small and pathetic.

"No? Then stop being so fucking, so... so ghastly."

"Boring, you mean.", you said under your breath.

"What?"

"You don't even recall, do you? Too deep in your cups, as it were, to even notice your wife was gone."

"What are you talking about?"

You rose, crossing the room and pacing like a trapped animal. It felt too stuffy, suffocating. You were bursting. Your rage barely restrained. It was stupid of you to have assumed he would rush after you as soon as you had left, to assume he would know why you had been upset.

"Stop gaping at me like a fish! What you said last night, Lyonel.", you hissed at him.

"I said a great deal of things last night if I recall."

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, pouring himself a cup of wine. Your nostrils flared in disbelief, your vision flashed red. Was he really going to act like this was a casual matter? Was it a casual matter to him? Could he not have opened his eyes to the turmoil of emotion you were going through in front of him?

"Yet you don't recall the one thing that seems to upset me at present."

"No, I do not, because clearly I didn't fucking mean it!"

His tone was rising to meet your own. Your voices bouncing off the stone walls. You cringed internally as you knew this was far from the first fight your servants had heard. On one occasion you had even thrown a few cups and shattered a carafe. It was almost as if Lyonel liked to fight you the way he fought on a battlefield or at a tourney, only with words instead of weapons. There was too much love between the two of you for him to ever raise his hand at you, but you could take it out on the furnishings of your home. From the twinkle in his eye after a fight, he clearly delighted in it.

"How can you say you didn't mean it if you can't remember?"

"Because it didn't matter!"

"It matters to me!", you bellowed.

Tears were threatening to leak out of your eyes. His face fell as he saw it, a pressing quiet descending upon the room. Just as quickly as he took a step towards you, ready to fold you into his arms, you scurried from the room. Lyonel ran a jeweled hand through his hair in frustration, a long sigh leaving him. The issue would never be resolved if you refused to face it head on. You noted with bitterness, but no shock, that he did not follow you out.

─ .✧. ─

"Won't you tell me what it was?", Lyonel whispered against the skin of your inner wrist.

You had spent the day glaring at each other whenever you entered the same room. The sight of him made your blood boil, fists clenching on themselves as to not reach for his neck to choke the life out of him. For his part, he was angry that you were angry at him. With such a sour mood, he hadn't been afforded a single kindness, a single kiss in almost two days. And he did not even know or understand the reason why. What a stupid fucking thing!

You had sent servants back and forth to relay messages and make demands of each other. But he had finally worn down your resolve when he had come to you with a bouquet of flowers and a cup of wine late in the afternoon, looking sheepish and desperate like a kicked puppy. Curse that bastard and the way he played with your heart. Curse him for being a romantic, for good measure.

While you mulled over whether to tell him the reason for your silent mistreatment of him or not, he was on his knees, pleading as you allowed him to kiss your hands and caress your palm. You recognised the signs of him knowing he had made a mistake. But you would not let his self inflicted misfortune sway you quite yet. No matter how his miserable face tugged at your heartstrings.

"You said I bored you.", you murmured quietly as the words stung in your mouth.

"...Is that it?"

You snatched your hands away from him at the first sight of his smile. He realised his mistake only a beat too late, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you back down onto your cushion as you made to rise. He would not allow you to run from him in the midst of an argument again. Gods knew he could not stand one more day of sulking and solitude.

"I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to upset you--"

"But you meant those words?", you cut off before he could try to soliloquy is way out of your ire.

"No, of course not my sweet. I cannot even guess why I said them."

"In jest, then?"

"Yes! Precisely, in jest.", he concurred.

"And you are sorry?", you asked dubiously.

"Deeply so."

"You're dishonest as well as careless."

This time, his hands could not hold you down. You rolled your eyes and moved to the window, distracting yourself with the rain that had begun to pelt against the glass. Lyonel followed you with slow measured steps as if he were approaching a wounded prey for the killing blow. In truth, it was not dissimilar to it. He felt you stiffen when he wrapped his arms around your middle and buried his face in your neck. Knowing better than to kiss you and lavish affection upon you yet, he used his hidden position to speak his truth. No matter how disarmed and bare it made him feel. You had made him feel as such most your marriage. As uncomfortable as it still was for him to open his heart to you, he knew how much it mattered.

"Please. I need... I need you. Every fucking day I wake up feeling like the world is dull until I remember you're my wife.", he breathed against your skin.

"Even if I bore you?"

"In truth? You're the least boring person in the Seven Kingdoms. It's why I married you. It's why I keep you with me at all times, my love."

At last, he placed a kiss upon the column of your neck. You relaxed in his arms, leaning your head back against his shoulder. A single kiss from him could melt away all the ice that had wrapped around your heart. Whether he knew it or not, Lyonel had a soothing effect on you, like a balm on calloused hands.

"I love you."

You turned in his arms, wet steaks upon your cheeks where your tears had fallen. His eyes searched your face to ascertain whether you would strike him or concede to let him console you. You chose the latter.

"I married you for your looks.", you sniffled, allowing him wipe your cheeks free of tears.

He laughed, the sound loud and boisterous in the quiet of your rooms. The Laughing Storm returned. Your husband again. The very fabric of your soul.

"Are my looks enough to be forgiven then?"

"No," you said after a moment, "they are not."

"Tell me what to do.", Lyonel whispered, lips brushing yours.

"Beg.", you said, steadfast in your resolve.

"My darling wife! You look like you've swallowed a lemon."

"I look like-- Lyonel your face is battered!", you shouted back, rushing towards him.

"Ah yes, that... Has it turned you off me?"

He wrapped you in his arms with a wince and a groan, his clothing no doubt hiding even more of the atrocities doled on his person. His lips pressed a quick kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand rubbed your shoulder. You could feel him leaning on you for support even as he tried to disguise the gesture as affection. Every time he crossed the threshold of your castle, you worried yourself sick that he wouldn't come back. And every time he proved your worries right in some form or another. You would age twice as fast if the stress did not let up.

"Did you enter the list?", you accused, brows furrowed.

You pushed away from him to take a better look at his face. He laughed but did not respond. There was an edge of mischievousness in his warm brown eyes, a slight darkening there. Whether that was anger brewing or something else, you were yet to say. Your fingertips traced the cuts at his cheekbone, the purple arch of his eyebrow, the split lip. So much damage. You sucked your teeth at him and took another step back, arms crossed. Resolute. If he thought he could use his charms to buy your silence and quiet your questions, he had learned nothing.

"I demand to know what's happened to you!"

Lyonel rolled his eyes and made for the doors as you scurried after him. His stride had always been much quicker than yours, even wounded it seemed. Nevermind the fact that he moved with the grace of a dancer and the pace of a warhorse. Your husband might have been a force of nature, but you were the mountain his storm would break upon today.

"Some fucking hedge knight got into a fight with one of them Dragon boys, I forget which one, so I lent a hand."

"You... You defended a hedge knight against House Targaryen? Have you lost all senses? You could have been killed!"

You were this close to giving him a beating of your own. It seemed 'suicidal' needed to be added to the ever growing tally of his least desirable adjectives. You hadn't even been married a year! If this was the sort of tomfoolery he expected you to put up with for the rest of your years, he would soon find out the consequences. You had married him out of choice rather than duty, the offer impossible to refuse since you had both been so besotted with the other. The courting had been fast and decisive. The first few months of your marriage was a blur of parties, sex, and laughter. And it was still the case, minus his lapse in judgement similar to this one.

Lyonel tossed his caplet onto a chair by the fire burning in the hearth, the crutch he had been using long forgotten by the door. You followed him like a vengeful bee and paced about. Your initial anger had been completely replaced by worry. But there was little you could do about it when he got his hands on you, pressing you close to his chest and letting his hands wander across your sides and back. He was drawn to the laces of your dress like a moth to a flame. Your home had seen much worse than his curious hands though. It seemed your husband's privacy extended to every room of the castle he saw fit for lovemaking. There weren't many surfaces left for him to defile with you... You were still surprised each time the mood struck him, however. It seemed almost random, whatever you wore that day, your mood or energy levels, he simply wanted you.

"It sounds so noble coming from your sweet lips.", your husband smiled, tongue caught between his teeth.

"Do not try to charm your way out of this, Lyonel."

"I rather think I'm succeeding."

"Get off of me!", you batted at his chest.

Your attempt at freeing yourself only served in tightening his iron grip on you. His hands were already busy undoing the laces of your dress while his face was buried in your neck. There was no stopping him once he was set in motion. Only a firm, stern hand could have discouraged him and you did not have it in yourself to protest when he so clearly desired you. There was a desperate hunger, a heat, a need to his voice and feverish hands on your skin. His bearded lips scratching upon the column of your neck seemed to quiet almost all thought in your head... almost.

"I haven't had anyone in well over two weeks, I couldn't wait to be home and--"

"I must send for the Maester at once.", you continued, ignoring his rambles.

Your head might have been spinning from his lust, but your first priority remained his wellbeing. If it meant he had to wait a moment and nurse his stiff cock for an hour more, then so be it. He'd been able to do so for two weeks, or so he said, a moment longer would not kill him. He deserved a bruise to his ego as well.

"Are you even listening to me, woman?"

Clearly, he thought otherwise. You stilled as he clasped your hands at your side, leaning down so that your faces were inches apart. His eyes were glued to your lips as he spoke.

"I'd like to have you flat on your back so I can put a babe in you this instant, so stop fussing over me."

"What?", you blinked at him.

"Take that fucking dress off, go on."

You took a beat to stare at each other while the fire crackled beside you. Whether he meant those words or not, whether the intention to have a child was as alive in his mind as it was in yours, you didn't care. Simply saying it was enough.

You caved instantly.

Grabbing his neck, you urged his lips onto yours. You wouldn't have admitted to the noises that left you under threat of torture, too lost in your need of him to care who heard you. You were vaguely aware of a servant hurrying past and leaving the room. Your mind quieted down as soon as your dress was past your shoulders, your husband pushing you back onto the large table nearby. You tasted blood in the kiss. A cruel reminder of the state of him.

"Gods, I missed those tits."

He had both hands on them, pressing them to his face and bruising the skin with love bites and kisses. Your back arch off the surface of the table at the feel of his thumb tracing your nipple, teasing it to a peak. His tongue came to replace the digit quickly, teeth grazing the surrounding skin teasingly. It was almost impossible not to squirm against the thigh he had lodged between your legs, yet he held you firmly in place by the hips. This was torture. You chased after the friction regardless. Burying your hand into his curls, you pleaded softly. For him to stop or for more, you weren't certain. He seemed content to let you ride against his thigh and dampen his garments while he toyed with you. It was only after he felt your nails against his nape, hard enough to draw blood, that he revised himself.

"Where are my manners?"

Pulling you to the very edge of the table, your husband dropped to his knees in front of you and draped your legs across his shoulders. You played with his hair as he worked kisses from your knee to your slit. Your hips bucked at the first feel of his tongue on you, crying out his name. If there was one thing Lyonel could be cocky about for a good reason, it was this. His skill with his tongue upon your flesh was undeniable. He could have you squirming, begging for release within seconds. Just as he was doing now.

He seemed utterly drunk on your small, whimpering sounds, his hands gripping at the flesh of your ass as he drank you in. The expert push of his tongue against your entrance had you grinding against his face, chasing your climax. Lyonel moaned as your grip tightened on his hair, the vibration sending you over the edge. You steadied yourself against the edge of the table, body shaking with the effort of holding still.

It didn't take long for your husband to rise and unfasten his pants, the head of his cock already lining up with your entrance. He let out a sound between a moan and a grunt as he pushed in to the hilt. Lowering himself to your chest, he buried his face in your neck once more as his hips began to rock into yours. You wrapped your arms around his back and found more fresh cuts there. A thorough inspection was due, when your brain was less addled by sex and the delicious grind of his cock inside of you.

"Fuck, you take me so well...", he praised.

"Missed you... so much...", you gasped between his thrusts.

"Yeah?"

His pace picked up, one hand reaching up to grip your chin and tilt your face up towards his. Your own hand came to join his and clutched at his wrist desperately. He could get drunk on the way you looked. With your full lips parted, your hair wild, your pupils swallowing the colour of your eyes, you looked like a goddess.

"Lyonel, please..."

You had barely caught your breath when you felt his release inside you, an overwhelming sensation of warmth and fullness. He continued to desperately seek more relief, his hips snapping at a slower rhythm while you soothed your hands along his spine and dug your fingers into a bruise there. He hissed at the sharp pain, finally pulling out. The look on his face was one of amazement and glee.

"I won, if you'd care to know.", Lyonel said smugly.

"I gathered on account of you being alive, yes."

He sighed fondly, pressing another heated kiss to your lips. You chuckled giddily and stretched your limps out. You would soon find yourself with matching bruises, it seemed.

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Courting - You don’t realise that Jack’s courting you.

A Compatibility Issue - Things get tense between you and Jack when he struggles to get a handle on his feelings for you.

Closed Door - You and Jack address the issues between the two of you when you run into each other at an unexpected place.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Ugly - Jack sees your scar for the first time.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Messy - John doesn't mind getting a little messy when it's with you.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Letter - Jack realises it’s time to put his cards on the table when an incident occurs during a TEMS operation.

This Old Cowboy (NSFW) - Jack’s jealousy gets the best of him when a member of the transplant team flirts with you at a hospital benefit.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

A Goddamn Miracle Worker - You always know the perfect way to take care of Jack.

Mood - Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

A Force of Nature - Jack makes a suggestion regarding Germany.

Germany - Jack’s put through his paces when it comes to his new prosthetic.

Accessory - You tell Jack the real reason you won’t attend Jana’s party.

A Bad Night - Jack doesn’t mean to ream out a dying woman.

The Christmas Dragon - The only thing Jack wants for Christmas this year is to make his wife smile.

The Stress Ball - New Year’s Eve has never been Jack’s favourite night.

Three Good Things - Sometimes Jack just needs to hear three good things.

It’s been a while since Jack’s been able to touch you, since the two of you have existed in the same space outside of the hospital. It happens sometimes when there’s shift issues. The two of you become ships in the night, barely catching a glimpse of each other.

“You’ve missed me.” You tease, as his stubble grazes over the curve of your throat, a delicious scrape across your skin.

He growls into your flesh, burying his face into the hollow of your shoulder. Sometimes he doesn’t have the words to explain how he feels in that moment, sometimes he just needs to be in your proximity, to feel you against him.

Your hands thread through his burnished silver curls and he moans at the sensation, hips arching against yours on the couch.

“Oh baby, you’re desperate for me aren’t you.” You whisper, your grip tightening in his hair as you tip his head back so you can look into his eyes. Your mouth ghosts over his and he presses himself against you eagerly, eating up the space between you. “Can’t go another second without me.”

Your palm slides down to his dick, straining at the zipper of his combats as you unfasten it. “Let me take care of you Jack.”

He helps you shimmy his pants down to his knees, they get caught on the lip of his prosthetic, but he doesn’t give a shit. He leaves them there because he needs you right now, like the tides need the moon, to thrive, to function.

His hands slip under that sundress and he finds you bare, dripping. His eyes are on your face as his palms knead your ass, guiding you right where he wants you. Your hands rest on his shoulders as your wet cunt caresses the length of his dick. He whines at the teasing, and you grin as you put him out of his misery, sinking down onto his cock.

That moment it’s like his entire body comes live again. Your mouth captures his and suddenly he’s drowning in a world of Techni-colour as he fills you inch by filthy inch.

“Oh, that feels good doesn’t it, baby.” You whisper, your lower lip catching in your teeth as he starts to thrust. “Been so long since we’ve been together like this.”

You fall into rhythm, moving together as the sun breaks through the blinds in the living room, bathing you in light. The couch creaks beneath you, echoing your motions but Jack doesn’t care, all that matters is this moment of connectivity, the fact he gets to be with you all over again.

He chases your bliss one stroke at time, listening to the tempo of your breathing, the naughty little whines that catch at the edge of each breath. His own orgasm rises up but he clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together because when he does come, he wants it to be with you.

“Oh Jack.” You whisper as his fingers delve between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit. Each one has you clenching around his dick, squeezing impossibly hard until you combust like a star under his hands.

You cling to him as you climax, fingers sinking into his shoulders, grasping the fabric of his t-shirt in your hands. His release hits him, long hot spurts erupting inside of you as he buries himself deep, claiming you as his own. His hand finds your jaw, gripping it as he guides your mouth back to his, drinking down your ecstasy until you’re completely wrung out.

“Let’s not leave it so long next time.” He mumbles in between messy kisses, his hips still rocking into you, forcing his spent deeper. “I don’t think I can go this long without you again.”

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