Jessica Buck

It is almost seven. 6:47 a.m., to be exact.

Jack checks his watch like the numbers might have changed out of pity, then presses two fingers into his temples and rubs until pale sparks crawl behind his eyelids.

The ER smells like sweat, antiseptic, and the particular metallic scent that lingers after a particularly bad case. He can still feel the ache after doing compressions in his shoulders, still hear the silence that filled the trauma bay in the way it always does when everyone already knows the outcome but waits for someone with authority to make it official.

He had been that someone.

He hates being that someone.

Jack takes a sip of black coffee from a paper cup that has gone soft at the rim. It is his fifth of the night, maybe sixth if he counts the one he abandoned around 2 a.m. once he realized it had gone cold for it was no longer appeasing.

The department keeps moving around him, because that is what the ER does. People die and within minutes, the empty bed still fills. It’s a constant cycle of patients getting seen, discharged, someone screaming in pain, another arguing about the wait time, and there’s always one trying to get some food at all costs despite being NPO. Life, death, paperwork, repeat until his very brain cells begin to hurt, even though that isn’t possible.

Is it worth it?

The question comes quietly, as it always does after a death. It never enters like a thunderclap, it slips in quietly while he washes his hands, while he signs the chart, while he tells the family the unfortunate news that will shape the rest of their lives with a voice that sounds steadier than the rest of him.

Is it worth his sleep? His body? His sanity? Whatever remains of his heart after decades of using it as a blunt instrument against death?

Letting out a heavy sigh, he tips the coffee back again only to find it empty.

“Abbot.”

Ellis slides up beside him with a tablet hugged to her chest and a look on her face that already annoys him. Granted, after a sleepless, stressful night, the threshold for annoyance is incredibly low, and his patience is thin.

He points the empty cup at her. “If you’re bringing me bad news, I need you to lie.”

“Day shift is starting to trickle in.”

“That’s not bad news.”

“Robby’s here,” Ellis shifts her weight against the counter, entirely too pleased with herself for someone who has also been here all night. “And your date should be here soon.”

Jack closes his eyes. “There it is.”

He nearly chokes on his own saliva, or maybe air went down wrong, or his soul tried to make a run for it through his windpipe. He coughs into his fist, straightening too fast, eyes darting toward the ambulance bay, the elevators, watching to see if anyone’s down from radiation oncology, then the nurse’s station. His heart jumps, realizing he’s safe…for now.

Ellis’s face blooms with delight. “Oh, wow.”

“Don’t,” Jack warns, voice rough from coughing.

“You looked around.”

“I did not.”

“You scanned the whole ER like you’re looking for an incoming grenade.”

“I was checking on patients with a mere glance.”

“You checked the elevator,” she deadpans.

Jack tosses the empty cup into the trash with more force than necessary. It lands in the center, which is the only dignity he has left.

“She’s not here,” Ellis adds, taking pity on him. “You can breathe.”

“I am breathing.”

“Barely.”

Jack leans closer, lowering his voice. “You aren’t going to tell anyone.”

Ellis lifts one hand, drags two fingers across her mouth, turns an invisible key, then tosses it over her shoulder.

“Very convincing,” he mutters.

“I won’t have to tell anyone.” She looks past him, toward the main desk, where the first day shift nurses are shedding coats and yawning into travel mugs. “They’ll figure it out when our little consult walks in and you start pretending you’re calm and cool.”

Jack squints at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you get very nervous when you’re trying not to look interested, but it does absolutely nothing to actually hide how you really feel.”

“I have a good poker face,” he defends.

“That would have worked better if you hadn’t said it like a man about to pass out.”

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose.

Robby will be unbearable.

Robby, who has known him since they were both younger, louder, and stupid enough to think back pain was a problem for other people. Robby, who has watched him make catastrophic personal decisions and then roasted him for them. The same Robby he used to warn about dating residents like Heather Collins.

Now he’s doing the same. Well…it’s not really the same. This is just breakfast with a senior resident; a bright-eyed, nervous, funny, soft-voiced senior resident who had grabbed his bicep and asked him about breakfast after finding a hunting knife in her patient’s bag…A radiation oncology senior resident! She’s not even in their department.

Jack rubs a hand over his mouth.

This is insane.

This is irresponsible.

This is probably how men his age end up buying new shirts, pretending they remember how dating works. He already knows they’ll label this as a midlife crisis, tease him about buying a sports car he has no intention of buying, handing him box hair dye and leaflets on Botox.

The elevator doors open across the unit. Two transport staff roll Rathbone out with a nurse beside them, the patient bundled under blankets and muttering darkly about terrible service.

Jack’s shoulders ease a fraction.

“Rathbone’s going up?” Ellis asks.

“Finally.”

“No fruit knife?”

“Security has his machete for apples.”

“It was not a machete.”

“Whatever it classifies as, is not getting anywhere near him during his stay upstairs.”

Ellis snorts.

Jack glances toward the clock again. 6:51. If he can get sign-out done quickly, he can wait outside, away from the nurses, away from Ellis’s smug face, away from the ER’s gossip ecosystem, which functions with the speed of a bloodborne pathogen and no moral restraint.

A hand taps his shoulder. Jack turns and finds Robby standing there with his eyebrows already lifted.

Wonderful.

Robby has that end of night ER attending look despite having just arrived in his dark jacket, scrubs underneath, hair threaded with silver and flattened slightly on one side from sleep, and a cup of coffee in hand, studying Jack with the grim amusement of a man finding a crack in a dam.

“How’d it go?” Robby asks.

“It was tolerable.”

Robby’s eyes narrow. Jack knows instantly he said it too quickly, as if he doesn’t have a dead patient still cooling in the back of his mind and his hands aren’t still aching from compressions. Robby has always been able to hear what Jack leaves out. It's one of his more irritating qualities, second only to breathing.

“Tolerable,” Robby repeats.

“That’s what I said.”

“You say tolerable when you mean ‘the roof caved in and I’m deciding whether to become a beekeeper.’”

“I’d be great with bees.”

“You would get stung once and burn it all down.”

Jack gestures toward the board. “You want sign-out or a personality audit?”

“Both, ideally.”

“We’re out of two for one specials, so better pick one fast.”

Robby steps beside him, eyes scanning the screen. “Give it to me.”

Jack runs through the patients: chest pain in two is waiting on repeat troponin, suspected appendicitis waiting for a surgery consult in four, elderly patient fall in six with negative imaging reports but family refusing discharge, psych hold in nine, and finally Rathbone transferred upstairs, radiation oncology aware, symptoms treated overnight.

Robby listens, but his gaze keeps sliding toward Jack’s face.

Jack talks faster.

Robby’s mouth begins to curl. “You have somewhere to be?” he asks.

“My bed.”

“Your bed called the ER and set up a meet?”

“Yes. It’s desperate.”

“Must be. You’re talking like you’ve got someone waiting for you.”

Jack rubs the back of his neck. The skin there is damp, his hair curling at the nape from sweat and twelve hours of pure misery. “I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired.”

“Then why are you asking questions?”

“Because this is special tired.” Robby sips his coffee. “This is cagey tired.”

Jack gives him a long look. “There is no such thing as cagey tired.”

“There is when you’re doing it.”

Before Jack can answer, the elevator chimes again and while he wishes he had better self control, he turns, his eyes searching for her.

Y/N steps out into the morning wash of the lobby windows, and the entire ER seems to lose a layer of noise.

It is absurd. Objectively, nothing happens. There’s no orchestra, no shift in gravity, nothing of consequence, and still, Jack’s breath halts somewhere behind his ribs where his heart refuses to behave.

She is in a white winter coat, hair twisted into a messy bun with a few loose strands that frame her face. She looks tired, the kind of tired that sits under the eyes and slows the blink, but there is a brightness to her that the morning seems eager to borrow.

Her lips have a fresh coat of color. Jack notices that first, then immediately wishes to be a little less observant.

She smiles at a nurse, signs something against a clipboard, and leans in as the woman gives her a quick update. Her whole attention goes there, focused and warm, but when she glances up and sees him, her smile changes.

It’s small at first, then fuller, radiant. She lifts her hand in a little wave. Jack’s heart, the traitorous organ, throws itself against his sternum.

Beside him, Robby follows his stare.

Jack doesn't even turn. “Don’t.”

Robby raises both hands. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

“Maybe I was.”

“I know.”

Robby waits exactly two seconds. “So.”

Jack turns slowly.

Robby’s expression is a monument to restraint, and every brick in it is fake. “You want to tell me what that’s about?”

“No.”

“Abbot.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

Robby steps in front of him, blocking his view of Y/N with the audacity of a man who values drama over self-preservation. He crosses his arms.

“I’ll find out anyway,” he informs him. “Rumors spread fast around here.”

“They do when people like you feed into them.”

“I call that building a community.”

“That’s one way to word it.”

Robby’s smile widens. “So?”

Jack blows out a breath and plants his hands on his hips. He glances over Robby’s shoulder. Y/N is still speaking to the nurse, nodding seriously, one hand tucked around the clipboard, the other lifting to adjust a loose strand behind her ear.

He is too tired for this and somehow not tired enough to avoid it.

“I may have,” Jack begins.

Robby’s eyebrows climb expectantly.

“Agreed,” Jack continues, already regretting every word that passes his lips, “to grab breakfast with her.”

Robby presses his lips together. “With the woman young enough to be your daughter?” he asks.

Jack stares at him.

Robby’s eyes flicker. “Please tell me she’s not a med student.”

“No.” Jack’s remarks coldly. “She is a senior resident in radiation oncology.”

“Okay.” Robby nods once, reassured. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Good.” Robby taps him on the shoulder. “Have fun.”

Jack blinks as Robby starts to walk away.

“That’s it?” Jack calls after him.

Robby glances back. “And don’t fuck it up.”

Jack frowns deeply. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird.”

Robby keeps walking, shoulders shaking with a silent laugh. “Oh, yes you are.”

Jack watches him go, shaking his head. He turns back toward Y/N.

She thanks the nurse, signs the last line, then looks up. She finds him already there, and for one brief, ridiculous second, he wants to check his reflection in the black screen of the nearest monitor.

He resists, just barely, before he walks toward her instead.

Every step feels wrong in a way he cannot medically classify. His scrubs cling faintly at the back of his neck from the last code, his jacket feeling heavier than ever before, he has a smear of ink on his thumb and his hair probably looks like he walked into a defibrillator. He is weighed down with fatigue, jittery from caffeine, and she has lipstick on.

Lipstick should be illegal this early.

She tucks the clipboard under one arm as he reaches her. “Ready?”

Jack nods curtly, lips pressed in a thin line before speaking. “Yeah.”

Her smile wavers by a thread. “If you’re not up for it, we can always reschedule.”

“No.” The word comes out too fast. He clears his throat. “Absolutely not. I’m tired, but never too tired for breakfast with a pretty woman.”

Color rises in her cheeks so quickly he feels ten years younger and sixteen years dumber. She bites her lower lip for half a second, like she is trying to keep a grin from embarrassing her in front of him.

“Lead the way, doctor Abbot,” she replies.

Jack steps beside her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo beneath hospital air; something clean, a little sweet. Maybe it’s citrus, maybe it’s just his brain melting into mush.

They head for the exit. Y/N keeps her chin tilted up as they cross the ER, but her eyes dart once to the side. Jack doesn't need to look to know half the department has suddenly developed an urgent interest in their route.

He leans slightly toward her. “Don’t make eye contact with them.”

Her mouth twitches. “Why?”

“They’ll take it as permission.”

“For what?”

“Questions. Theories. Interpretive dance.”

She makes a small sound, a half laugh, half mortified squeak. “Oh, God. People are looking, aren’t they?”

“Only because they have no manners and love gawking at gorgeous women.”

She huffs. “I work in oncology. Our gossip is not as obvious as this.”

“That’s because you have doors to whisper behind.”

“And some dignity.”

“Don’t brag.”

She laughs properly then, bright enough to cut through the last of the night clinging to his skin. Jack feels it in a place coffee nor sun has ever reached.

Outside, the morning is cold and pale, the sky colored in thin blue over the hospital entrance. The city is waking up and sidewalks are damp from rain that must have passed while they were both too busy with their patients to notice the weather the way healthcare workers tend to.

Y/N draws in a breath and immediately looks as if she regrets the lungful of fresh air.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “Outside still exists.”

“Allegedly.”

“I always forget. Then I step out after a twenty-four hour shift and feel like a mole person being reintroduced to civilization.”

Jack slips his hands into the front pockets of his scrub pants, partly because he has no idea what to do with them, partly because if he keeps them loose at his sides he may do something foolish, like brush her hand and then torture himself about it until next week.

She walks beside him with her shoulder angled toward his. Her white winter coat flutters in the wind. A loose strand of hair sticks briefly to her lip, and she blows it away with such adorable annoyance that he has to fight a smile.

Y/N is painfully aware of every inch of him, of the distance between them, of every glance, every twitch of his lips and every clench of his jaw.

This is deeply inconvenient because she is also painfully aware of herself.

The lipstick is doing heroic work. At least she hopes it is. It is the only item of makeup she had in her bag, because apparently past Y/N packed for a hospital shift like a frontier woman and not a person who might meet a handsome attending with forearms capable of ruining her sanity.

She had spent twenty minutes in the staff bathroom earlier trying to look less like a haunted Victorian child. The lighting had been unforgiving and her under-eyes had introduced themselves as permanent residents as a massive zit on her left cheek had begun forming its own household.

She had stared at it in the mirror and whispered, “Not today, Gerald,” which did not help but did make a medical student at the sink glance over in concern.

She had almost turned around, then she remembered the way Jack had looked at her last night, like the knife in her hand mattered less than the fear in her face, like her panic had not made her silly and her rambling had not made her too much.

Now he is quiet.

The silence stretches between them, and while it’s not horrible, it’s certaintly awkward enough for her thoughts to start throwing a tantrum.

He regrets it. No, maybe he’s tired.

Maybe he has a wife. Maybe he has a wife and a gorgeous kitchen and children named after his favorite players and he agreed to breakfast because she looked like a wet kitten with a knife.

But he flirted!

Married men flirt. Men with girlfriends flirt. Men with emotional damage and excellent biceps flirt. This is why society needs forms. Relationship status should be printed on badges right beneath name and credentials.

She glances at his left hand.

No ring.

That means nothing. Doctors take rings off all the time. Surgeons wear silicone rings. Some men are simply bare-fingered villains!

Jack catches the movement and lifts a brow. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she answers quickly. “I was admiring your hands.”

The words leave her mouth before her brain can properly filter them and now those words are out in the world, and there’s no recall button.

Y/N’s soul slowly leaves her body.

Jack stops walking for half a step, surprise parting his lips, then his smile turns a little crooked and quite delighted at one corner. “Were you?”

Closing her eyes in utter shock, she mumbles. “I said that out loud.”

“You did.”

“Lovely. Great!”, she exclaims, continuing her rambling, “Excellent decision today.”

“Do you want to take it back?”

She looks up at him, cheeks warm, pulse fluttering irritably. “No. It’s just -”

His smile softens. “Yeah?”

“Are you married?”

Raising his brows, he licks his lips. “No. I’m a widower.”

“Ah,” she swallows thickly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jack looks ahead again, but his shoulders sit differently now, looser despite the fatigue. “The place is a few blocks down. Nothing fancy.”

“Good. Fancy breakfast after a night shift feels illegal.”

“Exactly.”

“Does this place have pancakes and burgers?”

“It does.”

“So they’re prepared for your emotional spectrum.”

“My breakfast needs are complex.”

“I gathered.”

They reach the corner and pause for the crosswalk. The little red hand glares at them.

Y/N tucks her hands into her coat pockets, trying to change the subject after the last dumb question she asked. “Dogs or cats?”

Jack turns his head. “What?”

“Dogs or cats?” she repeats, as if this is a perfectly reasonable question to ask after inquiring about his marital status.

His eyes narrow, amused. “Is this part of the date intake form?”

She holds her breath.

Date. He said date!

Or he said it because she implied it? Or he said it as a joke?

A normal person would respond with flirtation. Y/N’s brain produces a PowerPoint titled Do Not Foam At The Mouth before continuing.

“I’m assessing compatibility,” she replies with impressive calmness for someone whose brain's crashing out. “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

The crosswalk turns white. They start walking across.

“Cats,” Jack answers.

“Interesting.”

“That sounded judgmental.”

“It was observational.”

“You’re bad at lying.”

“I’m really not. Lying, I mean!”

He chuckles, the sound low and scratchy. It moves through her, making her shiver for a split second.

“I had a dog, though,” he continues, eyes on the street ahead. “Back when I was in the army.”

Something in his voice shifts, small, but unavoidable and true.

Y/N turns her attention to him more carefully. “Yeah?”

“He was a military working dog. Not technically mine at first.” His thumb rubs once over the seam of his pocket. “But try telling him that. Once I got out, I made sure he retired too.”

“That’s sweet.”

“He was a menace.”

“Those are often the best ones.”

“He loved stealing food off my counter and looking me in the eye while swallowing it.”

Y/N gasps playfully. “You housed a criminal!”

“A decorated veteran and a thief.”

“I respect his hussle.”

“You would’ve loved him.”

There is a pause. Jack’s gaze drops briefly to the pavement. “He died last year.”

Y/N’s chest squeezes tightly. “Oh,” she says softly.

Immediate regret floods her because she’s clearly on a roll. She asks about cats and dogs and somehow trips directly into grief like a socially anxious gazelle falling into a ravine.

“I’m sorry,” she adds. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything sad and I’ve managed to do it twice now.”

Jack shakes his head, and this time his smile is faint but steady. “You didn’t. He was old, spoiled, judgemental. Went in his sleep on a bed he was not allowed to use for twelve years but used regularly nonetheless.”

Her lips twitch in amusement. “Good for him.”

“He thought so.”

The wind nudges a curl across his forehead. He brushes it back with two fingers, and Y/N’s attention follows the movement before she can wrestle her desire to do so.

Jack glances down at her. “What about you?”

“Both.”

“Diplomatic.”

“No, I’m just greedy.” She warms to the topic instantly, shoulders loosening. “I love animals. I would pet an alligator if I trusted it not to rip my arm off. And even then, honestly, I’d need a minute to weigh the pros and cons.”

Jack stares at her.

“What?” she asks.

“An alligator.”

“I didn’t say I’d hug it!” she defends

“That’s where you draw the line?”

“I have boundaries.”

“That’s…reassuring.”

“I’m a woman of science.”

“You just said you’d consider petting an alligator.”

“With appropriate risk assessment.”

“That’s not science. That’s crazy.”

She laughs, then lifts one finger as if remembering a crucial clause. “I hate insects, though.”

“All insects?”

“Yes.”

“Even ladybugs?”

“Ladybugs are beetles in festive outfits. I don’t trust them.”

Jack laughs harder this time, shoulders shaking once.

Y/N points at him. “Don’t laugh. They have too many legs.”

“Ladybugs have six.”

“That is already excessive. Anything more than four legs is a crime.”

His grin refuses to dim. “Spiders have eight.”

“Spiders have a horrifying number of knees and no respect for personal space. They’re literally the worst.”

“They kill other bugs.”

“They can do that outside, where their little private wars belong.”

Jack tips his head, studying her with a softness he’s not quick enough to hide. Her face is animated now, nose slightly scrunched, hands beginning to escape her pockets to help her make her argument. The morning touches the curve of her cheek, catches at the color on her lips, and for a moment his exhaustion recedes enough for him to feel the unbearable wanting with uncomfortable clarity.

She is ridiculous and lovely. So, so lovely.

He wants to follow the sound of her voice the way moths follow porch lights in the swamp, and that is enough for him to realize he’s in trouble.

“Well,” he offers, “if there’s ever a spider you need getting rid of, I’d be happy to help.”

Her eyes brighten. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll come rescue me from the eight-kneed invader?”

“I’ll negotiate its surrender.”

“What if diplomacy fails?”

“Then I’ll relocate it.”

“Outside?”

“Outside.”

“Humanely?”

“As long as it cooperates.”

She nods solemnly. “Acceptable.”

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too broadly. It doesn’t work. “Glad to be of service.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Her step falters very slightly.

Jack feels the flare of nerves in his own chest, because apparently he can intubate in chaos, pronounce death, argue with surgeons, and face armed gunmen, but flirting with Y/N Y/L/N turns him into a man built out of paper clips in a hurricane.

They reach the diner a minute later. It sits on the corner with fogged windows, red vinyl booths, and a sign that has probably been promising the world’s best coffee since the Reagan administration. Warm yellow light spills through the glass.

Through the windows, she sees a waitress with a silver ponytail slides plates onto a counter while two construction workers argue gently over a newspaper, and a pair of nurses in navy scrubs sit near the door, faces blank with post-shift depletion.

“Looks homey,” Y/N says.

Jack steps ahead to open the door for her. She smiles as she passes him, and the scent of her shampoo drifts by again. His hand remains on the door handle a second longer than required while his brain rearranges itself.

Inside, the diner greets them with the smell of grease, coffee, syrup, toasted bread, and the soft clatter of silverware. It is warmer than the street, warmer than the hospital, filled with the kind of noise that does not demand anything urgent from them. There are no monitors, no alarms, no one calling their names from three directions, just people eating eggs.

Jack heads instinctively toward the back corner, to the booth tucked partly beneath a flickering wall sconce where the morning sun has failed to reach. He pauses beside it, letting Y/N slide in first.

She raises her brows as she settles onto the vinyl seat. “Once a night shift doctor, always a night shift doctor.”

Jack sits across from her. “Huh?”

“You picked the only dark booth.”

He glances around, then back at her, caught. “If you’d prefer some sunshine, we can move.”

Her hand crosses the table and rests over his. The contact stops him cold. Her fingers are warm, smaller than his, delicate.

“No,” she says. “This is perfect. Very you.”

Jack looks down at their hands. For half a second, he forgets to breathe.

Y/N realizes what she has done at roughly the same time and starts to pull back, but his fingers shift just enough to keep her there without force, only a quiet request.

She stays. Her pulse beats against her chest, reminding her she’s not versed in this or smooth enough to keep herself steady when he looks at her like she’s someone of importance; not to the world, but to him.

The waitress appears with menus. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” they answer together.

Y/N laughs under her breath.

Jack looks at the waitress. “Please.”

“Two coffees.” The waitress drops menus in front of them. “You need a minute?”

Y/N turns her chin into her propped hand and looks at Jack instead of the menu. “Well?”

He lifts a brow. “Well?”

“Is it a pancake morning or a burger-and-fries sort of morning?”

His gaze holds hers. The tiredness is still there, carved beneath his eyes, caught in the slower blink, but something warm threads through it now. Something almost boyish at the edges, which is deeply unfair because he is already handsome enough.

“With you here?” he replies. “Pancakes.”

Y/N’s smile slides into a smirk. “That was smooth.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not.”

“I’m simply making an evidence-based breakfast decision.”

“Based on?”

“The present company.”

She lowers her eyes to the menu before her face can ignite fully, teasing. “Very scientific.”

“I try.”

The waitress returns with coffee. Jack orders pancakes and Y/N orders waffles, then panics after the waitress leaves because pancakes were clearly the thematic choice and she just committed treason.

She stares at the menu after it has been taken away, mourning her own inability to participate in narrative symmetry.

Jack leans back, watching her. “You look concerned.”

“I ordered waffles.”

“You did.”

“You said pancakes.”

“I did.”

“I fear I just created breakfast discord.”

His mouth curves softly, amused. “We’ll survive.”

“Will we?”

“I’ll share if you want.”

She glances up. “Your pancakes?”

“If you’re trustworthy.”

“I am extremely trustworthy.”

He cocks an eyebrows, “Debatable. You want to pet an alligator.”

“Okay, maybe not rationally trustworthy, but I am emotionally trustworthy.”

“Different category?”

“Entirely.”

He reaches for his coffee, smiling into the cup.

For a few minutes, conversation moves cautiously, stepping around the hospital at first. They talk about the diner, the bad art on the walls, the waitress who calls Jack “hon” with zero fear, the terrible music playing from a radio near the counter. Y/N relaxes by degrees, shoulders dropping, hands loosening around her mug.

Jack lets himself watch without looking like he is watching. It’s an art form. She talks with her whole face. Her brows conduct entire symphonies, her eyes widen when she is amused, narrow when she is skeptical, drop briefly when she thinks she has said too much. She catches herself rambling and tries to fold inward, but there is too much light in her to make herself small for long.

He wonders who taught her to apologize for being interesting, because he’d like to have a word.

“So,” she says, stirring cream into her coffee. “Favorite color.”

“Navy blue.”

“Fast answer.”

“I know what I like.”

Her spoon slows. Jack watches her hear the double meaning.

A pleased flush touches her cheeks, and she looks down before her smile gives her away entirely. “Navy blue is respectable.”

“Respectable?”

“Stable. Grown-up. Looks good on almost everyone. Suggests you own at least one functional coat.”

“I own several.”

“See? Navy blue man.”

“And yours?”

“Baby blue.”

He pretends to consider this gravely. “That tracks.”

Her eyes lift. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

“Because I’m adorable and approachable?”

“Because you look like you’d yell at someone for considering killing a spider, then ask me to remove it because you can’t look at its legs.”

She points her spoon at him with a playful glare. “First of all, accurate. Second of all, don’t get smug.”

“Too late.”

Their food arrives, and for a moment they are both quiet in the way only starving hospital staff might understand. The pancakes steam. The waffles are golden and crisp at the edges as butter melts into little shining pools, mixing with syrup.

Y/N closes her eyes after the first bite of waffle, letting out a soft moan.

Jack nearly forgets his fork. “That good?” he asks.

She opens one eye. “I haven’t eaten anything except a protein bar and hospital coffee in twenty-six hours. This waffle could ask for my credit card pin number and I’d consider it.”

“Don’t trust breakfast foods with financial information.”

“Spoken like a pancake man protecting his territory.”

Jack cuts into his pancakes. “You want a bite?”

She eyes the plate, then him. “Are you testing my emotional trustworthiness?”

“Yes.”

She slides her fork across the table. He cuts a piece, drags it through syrup, and places it on her fork with his own instead of handing the plate over.

The gesture is small, too small for anyone else to notice, yet world breaking for her.

Y/N’s chest fills with warmth, bringing butterflies back to life in her stomach. She brings the bite to her mouth, chewing carefully as if she is evaluating a rare wine and not diner pancakes.

“Well?” Jack asks.

She swallows. “Okay. Fine. This is a pancake morning.”

His face lights in quiet victory.

“Don’t look so pleased,” she warns.

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m allowed to enjoy being right.”

“A dangerous philosophy to live on.”

“I’ve built a career on it.”

The coffee keeps coming. The plates slowly empty. Morning brightens beyond the windows, but their booth remains dim and private, tucked out of time.

They talk about everything except the things that would make the air too heavy too soon.

He tells her he prefers nights, that the world makes more sense when fewer people are pretending to be civilized. She admits she likes twenty-four-hour shifts in a terrible, unhealthy way because the days off feel stolen from the laws of time. He hates seafood and she cannot stand pork. He likes mountains, cold air, silence, long drives while she loves the beach with embarrassing intensity, sun-warmed skin, salt in her hair, cheap sandals, the first shock of water around her ankles.

“You don’t seem like a beach person,” Jack says.

Y/N gasps. “Why’s that?”

“You seem like you’d bring a book, sit under an umbrella, and lecture people about sunscreen.”

“That is normal beach behavior.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Someone has to prevent melanoma!”

“Oncology never clocks out?”

“No. It wears sandals and waterproof, sand resistant SPF fifty.”

He laughs, and she watches the way his face changes with it. The way the creases deepen, his eyes half-close, leaning forward and she can’t help but melt for him. The exhaustion remains, but joy moves through it like light passing through old glass.

Her heart does something foolish and flutters.

Down, girl. This man has known you less than a calendar day.

Jack studies her over the rim of his mug. “Where did you go?”

“What?”

“You disappeared for a second.”

“Into my own mind. Terrible neighborhood, with poor lighting. Never stick around too long.”

“What’s in there?”

“Mostly concern.”

“About?”

She hesitates, then scrunches her nose. “Whether this is weird.”

His fingers still around the mug. “The breakfast?”

“The breakfast. The age difference. The fact that everyone saw us leave. The fact that you are an attending and I am a resident, although in a different department, so not my attending, but still adjacent in the hospital food chain. And then there’s the huge zit on my cheek currently gaining sentience.”

Jack blinks. Then his gaze moves, very carefully, to her left cheek.

Y/N covers it with her palm. “Don’t look at Gerald.”

“Gerald?”

“He’s going through a lot.”

Jack presses his lips together, but the smile breaks through anyway. “I didn’t notice.”

“Liar.”

“I noticed your lipstick.”

Her hand lowers slowly. Her cheeks go pink again, softer this time.

“Oh.”

Jack looks down at his coffee, the confidence leaving him in a quiet rush. He rubs a thumb along the handle of the mug. “For what it’s worth, I’ve been thinking about whether it’s weird too.”

Her stomach dips.

He lifts his gaze before the hurt can settle. “Not because of you.”

She breathes in, watching every word form on his lips.

“Because I’m older,” he continues. “Because people talk. Because I haven’t done this in a while, and apparently when a beautiful woman asks me to breakfast I turn into an nervous mess.”

Y/N stares at him, the words making her entire face warm.

Then she smiles slowly in disbelief, because he keeps saying it and she can't help but accept he means it. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Jack’s ears redden faintly. “That’s what you got from that?”

“It was the most important part.”

“I also called myself a nervous mess.”

“I’m being selective.”

“Convenient.” He leans back, shaking his head, but his eyes are tender enough to undo her completely. “Yes. I think you’re beautiful.”

Y/N grips her mug with both hands so she does not float directly through the diner ceiling. “Okay,” she murmurs.

“That’s all I get?”

“I’m trying not to make a sound only bats can hear.”

His smile breaks wider.

She looks down into her coffee. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s unexpected. And a little terrifying. But in the way roller coasters are terrifying, not in the way hemoglobin of 40 is terrifying.”

“Very specific scale.”

“I have many.”

He snorts, “I’m learning.”

She glances up. “Are you still worried?”

“Yes.”

The honesty surprises her. Jack’s jaw clenches once before he continues. “But I’m here.”

Her fingers tap once against the mug. “Good,” she says quietly. “I’m glad.”

The conversation turns again, gentler now. He tells her the hospital rarely sees him leave with anyone unless Robby is dragging him out for a drink after a shift from hell. She admits she nearly walked into a supply cart last night on the way to the elevator because she was trying to look casual.

“You walked into a supply cart?” he asks.

“Nearly.”

“Define nearly.”

“My hip and the cart exchanged contact information.”

Jack laughs. “Are you hurt?”

“My ego is.”

“I’ll write a consult.”

“Please don’t. Ego has no insurance and I cannot affort going into medical debt right now.”

An hour slides by. Then another piece of one.

The diner shifts around them. The construction workers leave. The nurses by the window pay and shuffle out into daylight. The waitress refills their coffee twice more with a knowing look Y/N pretends not to see and Jack pretends he has not earned.

Their words begin to slow.

Fatigue creeps in at the edges, pulling at syllables, softening their banter into something drowsier. Jack props his cheek against his fist for a moment, blinking hard. Y/N tries to tell a story about her first week in radiation oncology and forgets the word for syrup.

“The sticky pancake…liquid,” she says, gesturing helplessly at the dispenser.

Jack looks at it, then at her.

“Syrup?”

Y/N snaps her fingers. “Yes. That. The tree sauce.”

“The tree sauce,” he repeats with eyebrows raised.

“I’m a doctor,” she whispers in despair.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “I believe you.”

She laughs, then presses both hands to her face. “My brain has turned into hospital pudding.”

Jack checks his watch. His reluctance shows before he can bury it. “I should call it.”

Y/N drops her hands. “No.”

The word comes out almost as a whine. She clamps her lips shut immediately.

Dignity. Retrieve dignity from the floor. Dust it off. Pretend it was intentional.

Jack’s eyes warm with enjoyment. “No?”

“I mean, yes! Obviously. Sleep is important.” She sits up straighter. “Brains need sleep. Bodies need sleep. I tell patients this constantly while personally treating rest like an optional software update.”

He pulls out his wallet, but she snatches the bill first.

“Nope.”

“Y/L/N -”

“I asked you to breakfast.”

“I’m aware.”

“So I pay.”

“I’m older and have attending money.”

“And I have pride and one lipstick. Don’t corner me, Abbot.”

His brows rise.

“I mean, Doctor Abbot.”

The smile he gives her is slow enough to be rude. “Jack is fine.”

She looks at him from beneath her lashes. “We’ll see if you earn first-name privileges outside consult hours.”

Leaning in slightly, he whispers. “I’m working on it.”

The waitress appears at the exact wrong time and saves Y/N from combustion. In the end, they compromise badly. Y/N pays because she gets to the card machine first with the reflexes of a woman who has fought consultants for scanner time. Jack leaves a tip large enough to make her squint at him.

“That was generous,” she tells him as they step outside.

“She kept the coffee coming.”

“You tipped her like she performed surgery.”

“She performed a miracle.”

“She poured caffeine,” she remarks

“And it kept us awake and talking. Same thing.”

The morning has fully arrived now, the winter sun shining bright. Y/N squints into the light, grimacing. Jack walks beside her, hands back in his pockets, shoulder occasionally brushing hers when the sidewalk narrows.

“I don’t live far,” she says after a minute.

“That’s even better. I can walk you home.”

“It’s really not necessary.”

“It really is.”

She looks up at him. “Is this you being protective?”

“This is me being a decent human being. Either let me make sure you arrive safely before you stumble into traffic, or let me pay for a taxi.”

“I am not going to stumble into traffic.”

“You forgot the word syrup.”

“That doesn’t affect my competence to walk.”

“You also called it tree sauce.”

She purses her lips. “It was descriptive.”

“It was a cry for help.”

Her laugh comes out softer this time, worn thin by exhaustion and affection she has no business feeling this quickly. “It’s a few minutes down the street.”

“Then I’ll walk slow.”

They do.

The diner falls behind them. The city’s morning crowd thickens, people with briefcases and gym bags and coffee cups moving around them in purposeful streams. Jack keeps himself on the street side of the sidewalk.

He clears his throat. “Favorite flower?”

Her steps slow. “That’s an odd question to ask out of nowhere.”

“I’m doing the intake form now.”

“Copycat.”

“I learned from the best.”

She studies him, amused, suspicious. “Lilies.”

His expression shifts, attentive.

“But,” she adds quickly, “my cat would die if I ever brought any inside, so I never do.”

“You have a cat,” he states slowly, realizing she really wasn't judging earlier.

“Yes. Her name is Marie Curie.”

Jack stops looking at the street and looks at her.

“What?” she asks. “She glows with attitude.”

“That’s a terrible name.”

“It’s brilliant.”

“It’s both.”

“She’s a rescue I found in the trash behind my building two days after a really difficult loss. Keeps me on my toes, really. She knocks things off shelves while maintaining eye contact and she’s not a big fan of men.”

“Should I fear her?”

“You shouldn’t. That’s how she gains power.”

He smiles. “So no lilies.”

“No lilies. No tulips. No daffodils. Honestly, most flowers require me to run a toxicity check like I’m clearing them through customs. I used to settle for blue roses when I could find them, but I’m too aware they look fake.”

“Baby blue and blue roses.”

“I have a brand.”

“You do.”

Her eyes narrow playfully. “Doctor Abbot, are you fishing for information to surprise me with?”

He glances down at her, mouth hitching. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe not.”

“Evasive.”

“Strategic.”

“Such a tease,” she mumbles.

Jack hears it. The words slide under his skin and settle low, warm and dangerous. He looks ahead, jaw flexing once, because if he looks at her right now, if he sees the sleepy flush from the November sun in her cheeks and the curve of that lipstick-stained mouth, he may forget all the reasons to be careful he has been building inside his head.

She deserves careful.

He is not sure anyone has handled him carefully in years, but he knows she should be.

Y/N stops in front of a brick apartment building with a narrow set of steps leading to a glass door. A potted plant sits near the entrance, bravely alive despite weather conditions.

“This is me.”

The sentence drops between them with an abruptness neither of them likes.

Jack nods. “Right.” He hates how quiet he sounds.

She turns toward the steps, then turns back. Her fingers grip the strap of her bag tightly. She looks tired now in a softer way, the morning and the food and the long shift settling over her. Still, her eyes remain fixed on him as if leaving requires more effort than walking.

“I really enjoyed our breakfast, Doctor Abbot.”

His chest aches. “Me too, doctor Y/L/N.”

She smiles, but there is a question tucked inside it.

He gives in. “And please, call me Jack. No need for formalities anymore.”

Her expression changes around his name before she says it.

“Jack.” She tests it gently, like something warm placed in her palms. “It’ll take some getting used to. And you can call me Y/N outside of the hospital too.”

His smile answers before he can decide to offer one.

Yes, he thinks. God, yes.

She steps onto the first stair. Then the second slowly; so slowly that even his sleep-starved brain catches up.

She’s giving me time.

The realization sends fire through his blood and nerves after it, causing an absurd swarm in his ribs. He stands on the sidewalk, watching her climb one more step, the hem of her coat shifting around her knees, her hand sliding along the railing. She glances back once, only once, and the look in her eyes is enough to ruin a better man.

“Wait,” Jack calls.

Y/N stops. It takes every ounce of self-control she owns not to grin like an idiot.

Do not cackle. Do not kick your feet. You are a physician. You have prescribed opioids responsibly. You can survive a man saying wait.

She turns.

Jack stands at the bottom of the steps with the morning behind him, black scrubs rumpled, sandy silver hair still wild from the shift, gaze caressing her with such open tenderness that her breath halts in her throat.

“Was this a date?” he asks.

The corner of her mouth trembles with amusement as she arches a brow. “If you have to ask, it means I’m way worse at flirting than I thought.”

He snorts softly, but his gaze drops to her mouth, and the laughter drains into something heavier.

“I had to ask,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “because then I can do this.”

He reaches her in two strides.

Y/N barely has time to inhale before his hands cradle her face.

His palms are warm against her cheeks, thumbs resting near the corners of her jaw, touch firm enough to steady and careful enough to ask. For half a heartbeat, he pauses there, close enough that she can see the tiny flecks of green in his hazel eyes, close enough to feel his breath brush her lips.

Then he kisses her.

The first press is deep and certain, nothing tentative about the way his mouth crushes over hers. Y/N makes a small sound against him, surprised out of her own body, and Jack’s fingers flex lightly against her face as if the sound has reached through him and pulled on something he long forgot exists.

She kisses him back softly at first, and then she stops being careful.

Her hands rise to his neck, nails grazing the skin just beneath his hairline. Jack inhales sharply through his nose, and the sound unravels something bolder in her. She tilts her head, parts her lips, and when her tongue brushes his, he answers with a low, rough exhale that she feels all the way down her spine.

His hand leaves her cheek and slides to her back, drawing her in until there is no polite distance left between them. Her body meets the solid warmth of his chest, her coat crushed lightly between them, the edge of his pen pressing somewhere near her ribs.

She curls her fingers into his hair, silver strands soft and unruly against her knuckles, and kisses him harder because apparently this is who she is now; a woman on apartment steps at nine in the morning making out with an ER attending after eating waffles for breakfast.

Jack’s grip tightens at her back. He tastes like coffee and syrup, and his stubble scrapes faintly against her chin, delicious enough to send a shiver through her.

She scratches her nails lightly at the back of his neck again, and his mouth turns hungrier, his restraint fraying at the edges in a way that makes her knees forget their job description.

For a few seconds, there is only the heat of him: the weight of his hands, the soft sound she makes when his tongue finds hers, the answering rumble caught in his throat.

The city moves around them, indifferent and loud. A car passes, a door shuts somewhere down the block, someone’s dog barks once from an open window, but neither of them moves away.

Jack is the one who finally breaks it…Reluctantly, maybe even painfully, judging by the way his hand remains splayed against her back as his forehead dips toward hers, his breathing uneven and warm over her lips.

Y/N’s eyes open slowly. His are already on her, wide and darkened, as stunned as if he had expected a kiss and gotten struck by lightning.

Her hands are still in his hair. She should let go, but she doesn’t. She refuses to.

“Wow,” she breathes.

Jack’s lips curve, dazed and pleased. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. The sweetness of it does more damage to her heart than the kiss.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs.

Then he steps back entirely.

Y/N stares at him. Her body, which had been making several enthusiastic assumptions about the immediate future, files a formal complaint.

“You can’t seriously be willing to walk away right now!”

Jack’s grin is strained at the edges. “I’m not willing.”

“Then excellent news, the stairs go both directions.”

His laugh breaks out low and breathless. He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes dropping briefly to her smudged lipstick before he forces them back up. “I have to.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Tragic.”

“Very.”

She folds her arms, which is difficult while her heart is still trying to climb out and applaud him. “Why?”

“Because I can’t trust myself to keep my hands to myself if I don’t.”

Heat sweeps through her quickly and she swallows hard. Then, because her mouth has never once respected her survival instincts or pride, she mutters, “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Jack closes his eyes for one second. It looks like prayer, or pain. Possibly both, she realizes.

“Ever thought of that?” she adds, quieter, cheeks burning now.

He opens his eyes. The look he gives her is almost enough to make her take a step back, except she is already against the railing and also not a coward. Usually. In this specific category, apparently, she has become reckless.

“It crossed my mind,” he admits.

Her stomach flips.

He shakes his head, more at himself than at her. “But no. I’m not rushing this.”

Her brows pull together. “This?”

He steps closer again, but stops before touching her. That restraint, the visible effort of it, sends a different kind of warmth through her.

“If we’re doing this,” he says, voice rougher now, “we’re doing it right.”

Her lips push into a pout before she can stop them. Jack’s gaze drops as if it hurts him to keep a steady distance between them.

“Don’t do that,” he warns softly.

“Do what?”

“That pout.”

“I’m expressing disappointment.”

“You’re weaponizing your lips.”

She blinks, then smiles despite herself. “That is an insane sentence.”

“I stand by it.”

“I was just kissed within an inch of my life and then abandoned on my own steps. I’m allowed to pout.”

“You’re not being abandoned.”

“Feels abandony.”

“Abandony?”

“It’s a new clinical term I’ve coined.”

“Radiation oncology has a strange vocabulary.”

“We’re innovators.”

Jack laughs, then exhales heavily as if a part of his heart remains in the palm of her hand and she’s not even aware of it. He glances up at her building and back to her. “I’ll be here tonight.”

Her pout falters.

“With flowers,” he continues. “Cat safe ones.”

Her chest softens so quickly she almost hates him for it.

“And I’ll be showered,” he adds. “Dressed in clothes that haven’t been through a code or drenched in sweat, hair combed.”

“Sound ambitious after a sleepless night.”

“I’ll make an effort.”

“Will there be cologne?”

His eyes flicker with mischief, but the smile stays restrained. “Maybe.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Jack.”

“So, I’ve been warned. And now I’m warning you back.”

She rubs at her forehead, torn between wanting to swoon and wanting to drag him upstairs by the front of his scrubs. This is exactly the sort of thing she used to pray for in vague, non-specific, dignified terms listening to The Prophecy by Taylor Swift while watching other people get chosen.

She wanted a man who doesn’t push, a man who wants her, who yearns for her and still stops, a man who promises flowers and romance and doing this right while looking at her like she has declared war on his discipline.

And now that he is here, being decent and infuriatingly principled, she wants to throw a decorative pillow at the universe.

“You’re a gentleman,” she groans.

“I’m trying to be.”

“It’s inconvenient,” she exhales in frustration

“I can see that.”

“I was prepared to make questionable choices.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know.”

His gaze lowers again, then climbs back to her eyes with visible effort. “I have a pretty good idea.”

She gasps quietly, wondering if maybe he too planned to get lost in her, but decided he wants more sometime between last night and this morning.

Jack steps back before either of them can test the integrity of his restraint.

“I’m going to woo you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

The formality of her full name makes her smile even as her cheeks heat.

“Woo me?”

“Yes.”

“With cat safe flowers and combed hair?”

“And dinner.”

“Dinner,” she repeats, considering. “Very traditional.”

“I can be traditional.”

“You just kissed me on my apartment steps after one breakfast.”

“I can be traditional starting now.”

She laughs, pressing her knuckles lightly to her mouth.

Jack’s expression gentles. “You deserve more than me stumbling upstairs for a quickie after a night shift and pretending that’s enough.”

The laugh fades. Her throat tightens, but not painfully. More like something inside her has been touched with enormous love, the kind she’s never had before.

She looks at him for a long moment and he doesn’t look away, withstanding the weight of her studious gaze.

“Eight,” she says finally.

His brows lift.

“I’ll be ready at eight.” She points at him. “Don’t be late.”

Jack places a hand over his heart. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And Jack?”

His face warms at his name in her voice. “Yeah?”

She steps down one stair, just enough to close a little of the distance again. His eyes sharpen, but he holds still.

She smiles sweetly. “Bring your spider relocation energy. Marie Curie judges men harshly.”

“I’ll prepare well.”

“She likes treats.”

“So do I.”

She chuckles, “I noticed.”

His grin comes back, slow and wicked at the edges. She turns before he can see how badly that grin affects her central nervous system.

This time, she climbs the stairs properly, though every step feels ridiculous with his eyes on her back and the kiss still pulsing against her lips. At the door, she glances at him over her shoulder.

Jack remains on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, hair a disaster, smile impossible to hide, her lipstick all over his lips.

She lifts her hand in a small wave and he lifts his.

The lobby door closes behind her. Y/N stands there for three full seconds, perfectly still, then she presses both hands to her face and silently screams into her palms.

Outside, Jack waits until he hears the inner door open and close, until he knows she is safely in the building. Only then does he turn toward the street.

His body is exhausted, his back aches, his scrubs smell horribly. He should go home, shower, collapse, sleep until the world becomes less hostile.

Instead, he walks back toward the hospital parking lot and to his car with his fingers brushing his bottom lip and a smile he doesn't bother fighting.

They were together for a decently long time, they started dating when you were 18 and fresh out of highschool. Making it until your last year of medical school before they ended things. Which made starting your clinical rotations at Robby’s hospital just slightly awkward.

But now you’re 26 and a second year resident in the PTMC ED. However, things were still slightly awkward between the two of you. This was mostly in part because your mom had cheated on him. But the other part was the fact that you had been harboring a massive crush on the man since he had started dating your mom. Something you had told no one but Trinity, who then told Dennis. Who then accidentally let it slip to Javadi who had been with Samira when he said it.

So everyone knew. But everyone also knew that Robby looked at you the same way you did him.

Which meant that when your clearly drunk text came through reading ‘SOS drunc hornyyyy ned ridee’, no one questioned Robby’s immediate response of being on his way. You weren’t sure who responded to your message barely paying attention to names, but you at least saw the response of whoever it was being 5 min out.

Heading out of the dingey building with your arms around your body for any type of heat you could generate you regretted the decision to wait outside. Your jean microskirt, black tank-top, and sheer lace over shirt did nothing to keep you warm. But you sure as hell looked hot. Scoring at least three phone numbers, including one coming from a bartender who’d given you free drinks all night.

And it was that same bartender who was calling your name while walking out to where you stood on the curb now.

“Hey! I saw you standing out here and figured I’d see if you wanted to head out together?” His proximity was way too close for your liking now that you were just wanting to go home.

“Oh uhm, no thank you” you attempted a step back, “a friend is picking me up, I’m sorry”

Whatever distance you gained was instantly lost as he followed closely. Even going as far as grabbing your wrist fairly tightly.

“Oh come on don’t be like that” he scoffed pulling you closer by where he held you, “you’ve been flirting with me all night. You can’t just lead me on like that and not expect me to want something”

His words had sobered you up in record time, words no woman wanted to hear when they were alone on a dark street. The only self defence ideas you had going for you was the fact someone was on their way, and four moves Jack had taught you when you picked up a night shift once.

“Hey look here buddy! I don’t owe you anything asshole-” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before a familiar scent enveloped you from behind, at the same time your arm was freed from the bartender's grip.

“Touch her again and it’ll be the last thing you do I can promise you that” Robby’s voice wasn’t loud, but his tone told the man and everyone around that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Whatever” the bartender was quick to scoff trying to seem unbothered as he shook out his arms, “the bitch isn’t hot enough for this type of effort anyway”

“The fuck did you just say to her!”

You grabbed Robby’s arm in an attempt to stop the situation from going any further. Granted you skidded a few steps in effort but you were able to at least slow him down. But he only stopped at the sound of your soft and slightly wavering voice.

“Michael please, it’s fine I just w-wanna go home” you rarely called him by his first name, so you knew it would grab his attention.

With a reluctant nod he rested a hand at your lower back guiding you to his truck that he had left at the curb. The bright flashing hazard lights caused you to stumble just a bit seeing as you still had a slight wobble to your step. Your body seemingly not as caught up on sobering like your mind had.

Attempting to step up into the truck you felt a sharp tug on the hem of your skirt holding the material down. Now that you were out of the highly stressful situation you were able to process the feeling of confusion. You weren’t exactly sure why Robby out of everyone was here, or how he even knew you needed help getting home in the first place.

“How did you-”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here like this?” His sharp words cut you off, “do you know how worried I was when that text came through, and even worse when I tracked your location”

“You still have my location!?”

“That is the least of your goddamn worries right now,” Robby was pissed that much you did know, “and then you had to go and wear nothing but see through strips of fabric out here, you could’ve gotten hurt, you almost did get hurt!”

He wasn’t truly pissed about your clothing choice, you had the freedom to wear whatever you wanted. Robby was just pissed that other people got to see you and touch you like he wanted to. Even now he was trying his hardest not to stare at the way your skirt rode up your thighs, or how your breasts we’re spilling over the confines of your top.

You were his ex’s daughter for god's sake! He shouldn’t be thinking of how your soft skin and pouty lips would feel. Nor should he think about how much better you would be than your mother. But he had, he had thought about you one too many times with his fist tightly wrapped around himself. Imagining it was your hand or mouth around his aching cock choking him down instead.

So he couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective and angry about the situation he found you in. But you didn’t bother fighting back after that, you refused to be scolded like a child. Even though you ended up crossing your arms and slouching like one in his passenger seat. Going as far as to give him the silent treatment while only looking out the window the rest of the ride. Completely ignoring him until you realized the neighborhood he had pulled into was nowhere near your own.

“This isn’t my home” you grumbled, leaning forward to put your address in his GPS. Not getting very far as he slapped your hand away

“Yeah no shit sweetheart, I know where you live and you’re staying at mine tonight”

His sentence barely finished before he pulled into his driveway, reaching over and unbuckling your belt before he hopped out. Your jaw dropped open in disbelief of his curt behavior, one you hadn’t truly experienced outside of the hospital. Pulling out your phone your thumb was poised at the uber app when suddenly your door flew open. Robby stood there with an expectant look on his face.

“I’m not getting out” you refused to move, typing his address into the phone so that you could order a ride.

“Either you get out like a big girl or I make you”

You didn’t believe his words, thinking he wasn’t going to follow through and that he would just give up. But before you could hit submit on your screen, your body was manhandled out of the seat and onto your feet. A large hand gripping your bicep as he pulled you towards his front door before you could get a word out. He all but threw through his door and up to his bedroom before you were able to find the ability to speak.

“What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Take a shower, change, bed”

“You know you’re not with my mom anymore right? You don’t have to play hero with me.” You go to walk past him and out of his room, but Robby stays rooted in the doorway as an immovable statue.

“Do not make me repeat myself kid”

“Kid, seriously? I didn’t ask for your help Dad”

You were pissed that after all this time he still only saw you as a child. A realization that made your attraction to him feel so much more humiliating. But what you failed to notice in your anger was how his jaw clenched and his pupils dilated at the name you called him. No, you were too focused on his choice of words for yourself.

So out of spite you decided to listen to his previous statement, but carried out his request with an attitude. Turning to his closet you began riffling through his drawers. Throwing pieces of clothing on the floor until you found a shirt you wanted. Doing the same with his other drawers until you found a pair of boxers you felt was acceptable.

And Robby just stood there, arms crossed with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He was doing his best to keep his eyes on your face and not anywhere else while you bent over. But he just couldn’t help himself when a small strip of red lacy fabric caught his attention. However he quickly averted his eyes when you straightened up and turned towards the bathroom.

Stomping the whole way into his adjacent bathroom you made sure to slam the door closed, rattling the objects on his desk. If he was going to treat you like a child you were going to give him the whole act. You made sure to take an extra long shower. One that had the water running cold and condensation dripping down the mirror, and you used all of his products out of spite (desire). You also might have poured some down the drain so there wasn’t much left.

Stepping out of the now cold water you took the towel you assumed was his and wrapped it around your body, while making your way to his sink where you used his toothbrush. The heat from the shower had helped you sweat out most of the alcohol you had consumed, making you fully aware of the situation you now found yourself in.

You were alone with Robby. Something that you had been actively avoiding since he and your mom broke up. Especially since she had cheated on him and then blamed Robby for her cheating. You never understood your mom. She had a strong, handsome, well established man who treated her well and she just let it slip away. You weren’t surprised though, she was always reckless with her choices not caring who she hurt.

You wouldn’t do that to him, you would make sure he knew how much you wanted him. So with the opportunity all but dropped into your lap, you decided to take it. Drying your hair with the towel, you look at the items of clothing you brought. A worn grey northwestern shirt and a pair of boxers. Slipping on the worn piece of clothing you chose to forgo the boxers and bra before walking out in just his shirt.

Walking out of the bathroom you saw the clothes you had thrown on the floor were already picked up and Robby was nowhere to be found. But your confusion was stopped short when he came through the door carrying Tylenol and a glass of water. An action that had you feeling slightly guilty for being such a brat.

Wordlessly he went to hand you the two objects, and to his surprise instead of grabbing them you tilted your head back and opened your mouth. Robby knew what you wanted only hesitating for just a moment before dropping the two pills in your mouth and tipping the water glass to your lips.

You kept your eyes on his the whole time, watching how his own tracked the movement of your throat as you swallowed. Tracing the path rivulets of water took with his gaze as it dripped from the corners of your mouth. With a sharp inhale of breath through his nose he hurriedly took a step back. Seeming to realize just what you were doing.

But true to your original intentions, you weren’t about to let him go. For every step he took back you took one forward. Right up until his back hit the door and he had nowhere else to go.

“W-what do you think you’re doing? We can’t, c’mon kid you gotta stop” His voice shook just slightly in questioning, rising into mild panic when you dropped to your knees and ran your hands over his body.

“Again with the kid?” You roll your eyes while lifting his shirt up slightly and undoing the button on his bottoms. Nuzzling your face into the thick patch of dark hair that trailed his soft stomach, “relax dad, moms not here anymore and I am not a child”

Pressing featherlight kisses to his now exposed skin, you watched as the bulge at the front of his underwear grew and jump at the name you used once more. Running your nose over the coarse hair, you took a deep inhale before pulling his boxers down. His heavy cock bobbed up when released from the fabric. You paused for just a moment as you studied him. He was bigger than you imagined, his flushed and angry tip was trailed by a large vein that disappeared into dense and unruly curls at his base

“So fucking big dad” Tucking the band behind his balls you wrapped your hand around him while looking up at his face.

Pressing a kiss to his cock, Robby hisses at the sensation clenching his fists to stop himself from pushing you down further. He was almost refusing to look at you, not allowing himself to give in. So you lifted his cock up, making room for you to take his balls into your mouth. Suckling the smooth skin and rolling them around with your tongue.

“Oh fuck, please” you weren’t sure what he was begging for, but you knew he was finally breaking.

Releasing his balls you dragged your tongue, broad and flat, from base to tip in one smooth motion. Running your tongue under the ridge of his cockhead, watching a shudder flow through his body.

“Did mommy ever touch you like this?” You ask wile collecting his leaking precum and spreading it over his length as he shakes his head, “no, I didn’t think so, she never took care of you like I will. I can take it, I’m a big girl now, remember?”

He opened his mouth to reply, whatever thoughts he had quickly dissipated as you finally took him into your mouth. Taking him as far as you could manage, which to his surprise was all the way down until your nose found its way tucked into his coarse hairs once more. Robby couldn’t control how his hands flew up into your hair holding you there as your throat tightened around him when you attempted to swallow.

“Holy fuck, just like that sweetheart”

His hold loosened for you to move off and take a breath, trying his best to let you set the pace. Almost releasing your hair all the way before you moved his hand back into your hair, silently giving him permission to use you.

With both hands now rested against the back of your head he started off slow and shallow. But when your hands that rested on his legs pulled him forward in a jerking motion, he understood what you were telling him. It didn’t take him long to build confidence. Hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth.

One of your own hands let go of his legs and came to your throbbing clit. Rubbing tight circles as your cunt clenched around nothing. Moans vibrated from your mouth and onto his throbbing cock pushing Robby close to the edge. He quickly yanked your mouth off with a curse. A small whine left your own mouth from the absence. You went to complain but his hands scooped you from under your armpits and threw you onto the bed.

“Shit sweetheart, you trying to get yourself off while sucking dad’s cock?”

He stepped out of his pants and threw his shirt to the other side of the room, you doing the same with your own. Gripping the back of your thighs Robby lifts your bottom off the bed with a renewed fervor he didn’t have before. A moment passed of Robby just taking in the sight of your glistening cunt before leaning forward and sucking your clit into his mouth with deadly accuracy.

“Oh fuck Robby! Just like that !” A cry sounded around the room as he pulled off and gave a stinging slap to your puffy cunt.

“Don’t call me Robby, not now, not after you’ve been playing out your little fantasy this whole time”

“M’sorry, p-please don’t stop!”

“Then what do we say sweetheart?” Robby caressed the back of your thighs with his hands as he waited for your answer.

“I-I’m sorry dad”

You watched with wide eyes as he smirked in approval before spitting onto your clit. Taking two fingers to spread it around, and plunging those same fingers into your entrance with no warning. The absurd squelching noise that came from where he shoved his fingers into you made your cheeks bright red.

“All this for me?” Robby’s words were followed by the crook of his fingers, as he watched your cunt greedily swallow his fingers “such a dirty girl, practically begging her dad to fuck her. What would your momma say if she could see you now?”

You shook your head playing into the idea of getting caught, Robby chuckled watching you. Leaning forward he placed his mouth on your clit once more. His beard adding a delicious friction to your already sensitive skin. The combination of his movements had your impending orgasm building at lightning speed. He was hitting a spot you could never reach yourself, over and over again.

With your toes curled and hands twisted into the sheets, an unfamiliar feeling followed the tight flutter of your walls. You didn’t think much of it assuming it was because you hadn’t been with someone in a while. But by the squirm of your body, Robby knew exactly what was happening. Doubling down in his efforts he was the only one not surprised by the rush of fluid that coated his tongue and beard when your orgasm finally took over.

You on the other hand had no idea what just happened. At the first release of your peak, pleasure had completely overtaken your senses and ability to process your surroundings. So when you felt an obscene amount of wetness soak your thighs, all you could do was let out the most pornographic moan you had ever made. Mouth babbling nonsense as Robby kept fingering you. Not stopping until he felt your cunt relax around his hand.

Slipping his fingers out he set them into his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste. You however, were already halfway fucked dumb laying silent on the bed in an attempt to catch your breath. But before you could fully get comfortable Robby gripped your hips and flipped you onto your front. Arching your back as he manipulated your knees under you. Feeling his fingers trace your sensitive and overstimulated flesh your body tried to pull away.

“Ah ah ah, you’re the one who wanted to be treated like a big girl, but after only one orgasm you’re already falling asleep?” he chastised your behavior as you struggled to keep your eyes open, “gotta stay awake if you’re going to prove you can take it”

“Please d-dad, I-I can d-do it” your words were hiccuped and sluggish as they left your lips.

“Then take a nice big breath for me sweetheart”

Notching his cock at your cunt, as soon as he heard your lungs fill with air Robby pushed the entirety of his length into you. Smirking at the sound of that same air leaving your lungs at the impact. You had never felt so full before. He was bigger than any other partner you’ve had and you were struggling to hold onto your sanity.

Robby, noticing your intense focus, pulled back until only his tip rested inside you. Letting you catch a false sense of security before thrusting his cock back into you. Doing this a handful of times before creating a consistent deep and brutal pace.

“Feel so fucking good baby,” the new endearment slipped from his lips, “so much better than your mom, taking me better than she ever could”

Your cunt clenched at his words, choking his cock as he bullied it through your walls. His thick cockhead pressing against your cervix with each thrust, almost painfully so. But you were determined to show him that you could handle it. Robby knowing just how much you wanted to prove yourself pushed just a little harder than normal.

With one hand at your hip and the other pressing between your shoulder blades, he created a deep arch in your spine. Your noises were muffled by the mattress with every thrust, but just when you were starting to get comfortable in this position Robby once again effortlessly maneuvered your body. This time ending up on your back once more, but this time with both legs hooked over his shoulders.

Barely getting a breath in before sinking himself into your heat. This new position had you swearing that you felt him in your stomach. Low moans clawed their way up your throat as words were unable to form under the sheer pleasure that filled your body. Each snap of his hips sent a lewd reverberating smack throughout the room as his balls hit your bottom

“Would you look at that, poor thing can barely fit me but you’re doing so well sweetheart” his tone was slathered in honey but still slightly condescending.

You didn’t understand what he meant until he set a hand at your lower stomach, as he pressed down just slightly there was an increase in the pressure you felt as he fucked up into you. Peeking your eyes open you saw what he was so mesmerized with. A fairly prominent bulge was puffing up in your lower stomach with every single movement.

Throwing your head back, you reached a hand down placing it on top of his. A moment later you felt his pace pause just a moment and the stretch of your thighs pulled as he leaned over for just a moment. Eyes screwing shut while his cock pressed against the deepest part it could reach as you heard him grab something. You didn't think much of it before he resumed his movements, restarting at a rougher pace.

“Tell me how good you feel right now” Robby’s voice rattled around your otherwise empty brain.

“S’good, feels s’good”

“Now tell me, fuck, whose the only one who can touch you like this from now on”

“Y-you dad, o-only you” the clench of your cunt began building as your second orgasm crept up. Robby angling his hips to bullying that one spot he knew would have you waking the neighbors.

“That’s right baby, and your gonna let dad fuck a baby into you aren’t you? Give your momma a grandkid with her ex”

A resounding ‘yes please’ came in a high pitched mewl, as his words were paired with the start of a thumb circling your clit at the same pace his cock was moving.

“Open your eyes and say it to the camera baby”

Your eyes flew open watching how he moved the phone from where it had been recording the slick movements of his cock up to your face. That was the exact moment that your body decided to tip over the edge. Seizing up every single moral you could’ve possibly held onto and threw it out the window.

“Yes please, I want dad to give me a baby so bad!” Your sentence was spoken straight to the camera as he zoomed in.

He held it there for just one moment before setting it to the side while still recording. Grabbing your hips with both hands he brought your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your mouth hung open in a silent ‘o’ as his motions prolonged your orgasm. You were on the verge of tears when he finally let out a graveled grunt.

“Fuck baby! That’s it keep squeezing just like that ” he pressed forward bending you in half before seizing your lips with his for the first time that night. You felt the white hot ropes of his cum coat your walls as he lets out his own noises, letting them get swallowed up in your kiss.

Pressing himself deep as his hips continued with shallow thrusts, lips never leaving yours. Swiping his at the seam of your mouth you opened up, tasting the slight tang left over from yourself on his tongue. It was a long time before either of you came up for air. And an even longer time before he shut off the recording and went to grab a warm damp cloth from the bathroom.

After cleaning the both of you up, Robby settled in beside you promising to talk more in the morning about what this means. He made mention of how he didn’t deserve you, how it was wrong for him to do this and he should be the better example. Shushing his doubts, you told him that no one would have to know. The two of you fell asleep not long after that.

However, you had woken up at around 3am to the sound of soft snores leaving Robby's lips and the low volume of the tv in the living room. Getting an idea you sat up you searched for his phone. Unlocking it you saw how the old man didn’t have a lock on it, so you didn’t feel bad when you rifled through his photos and sent yourself the video he took.

That had been six months ago. Since then, you’d seen enough of him to know that everyone in the hospital had him wrong. Was he intimidating? Absolutely. Could he cut through a trauma room with one look and make an intern rethink every decision they’d made in their life? Also yes.

But he wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t cold. He was guarded. There was a difference.

You saw it in the way he pulled blankets over sleeping patients. The way he stayed with frightened families a few extra minutes. The way he always thanked you and every other tech that came through the Pitt, even when the department was drowning. There was a depth to him that most people missed.

You had started noticing it years ago. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, you’d also started noticing his dark eyes, his broad shoulders, and the little streaks of gray appearing in his beard. That part was considerably less professional.

“You are staring again.”

You nearly dropped your container of hummus. Your friend and fellow radiology tech, Jen, grinned from across the cafeteria table.

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I was people watching.”

“You were Dr. Robinavich watching.”

Heat crept into your cheeks.

“I don’t even know him.”

“You know enough to know he takes his coffee black and prefers blueberry muffins.”

You blinked.

“I hate that you know that.”

Jen snorted.

“I hate that you know that.”

You laughed despite yourself and scooped up another piece of pita. As if summoned by your embarrassment, the emergency department doors opened. Robby walked into the cafeteria. You immediately looked down. Jen gasped.

“Oh, my God. There he is.”

“I can see him.”

“He’s coming this way.”

“No, he isn’t.”

“He absolutely is.”

You looked up. Unfortunately, he was. He stopped at your table. You forgot how breathing worked.

“Afternoon.”

You and Jen both stared at him.

“Hi?” you finally managed.

His eyes dropped briefly to your lunch. A little smile tugged at his mouth.

“Hummus again.”

You blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You eat that a lot.”

Now it was your turn to stare.

“You know that?”

He looked faintly amused.

“We share a lunch break more often than you’d think.”

“Oh.”

Excellent response. Very articulate. Jen looked ready to pass out. Robby shifted his weight.

“We’ve got a trauma coming in. They’re probably going to need a scan.”

“I’ll head down.”

“Thanks.”

He gave you a small nod before walking away. The second he disappeared, Jen smacked your arm.

“He knows what you eat.”

“Please be quiet.”

“He knows your lunch schedule.”

“Please stop talking.”

“He likes you.”

You laughed.

“Dr. Michael Robinavich does not like me.”

Jen’s grin only widened.

“Sure.”

Three weeks later, you were standing in CT when your pager went off.

TRAUMA ALERT. ED REQUESTING RADIOLOGY.

You sighed. “So much for leaving on time.”

Twenty minutes later, you rolled your machine into the Pitt. Chaos. Absolute chaos. A multi-car pileup had the entire department running. Residents darted between rooms. Nurses shouted for supplies. And in the middle of it all stood Robby.

Calm. Focused. Completely in command. His eyes found yours immediately.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I need scans on Bed Four and Bed Six.”

“You got it.”

You worked beside the emergency department for the next forty-five minutes. By the end of it, your feet hurt and your scrub top was sticking to your back. The last patient was finally wheeled upstairs. You packed your machine and headed toward the ambulance bay doors.

“Hey.”

You turned. Robby was jogging after you.

“You got a second?”

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

“Sure.”

He stopped in front of you. For a moment, he looked oddly uncertain. It was so unlike him that you nearly smiled.

Then he said, “Do you like Mediterranean food?”

You blinked.

“What?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard.

“Mediterranean food.”

“Oh,” you huffed. “Yes?”

“That sounded uncertain.”

A laugh slipped out.

“No, I like Mediterranean food. I just wasn’t expecting a food survey.”

He nodded once.

“Fair.”

Silence settled between you.

Then he said, “I passed this new restaurant in Shadyside last week.”

“Okay.”

“They apparently have excellent hummus.”

You stared.

“Okay…”

He looked at you for another long second.

“You eat hummus three times a week.”

You laughed softly.

“You’ve really been keeping track.”

He looked almost embarrassed.

“Apparently.”

Something warm fluttered in your chest.

“You notice things.”

His eyes met yours.

“I do.”

The words hung between you. Then he cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go with me.”

You frowned.

“To the restaurant?”

“That would generally be where dinner happens.”

You smiled.

“As colleagues?”

His eyebrows lifted.

“No.”

“As friends?”

A small huff of laughter escaped him.

“Also no.”

Your heart suddenly started beating much too fast.

“Then what exactly are you asking me, Dr. Robinavich?”

He looked at you for a long moment.

Then he said quietly, “A date.”

Silence. The ambulance bay suddenly seemed very, very quiet.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“I feel like I was pretty clear.”

You laughed nervously.

“I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

“That’s fair.”

“You’ve never…” You gestured vaguely toward him. “Done anything that suggested…”

He looked amused.

“That I was interested?”

You nodded. He considered that.

“I got you coffee that one time.”

“You did.”

“I remembered your favorite yogurt flavor.”

“You did.”

“I ask for you every time I need radiology.”

“You do.” A small smile appeared.

“I thought I was being fairly obvious.”

You laughed.

“No, you really weren’t.”

He looked genuinely offended.

“I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

That made you laugh even harder.

“You have not.”

“I absolutely have.”

“Oh, this is fascinating.”

A smile finally broke across his face. It changed him completely.

“So, now that we’ve established I’m apparently terrible at flirting…” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

You looked at him.nReally looked at him. The kind eyes. The guarded smile. The man everyone in this hospital thought was terrifying. And the man who had noticed your turquoise earrings, your favorite tea, and the fact that you ate hummus three times a week. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’d love to.”

For a brief second, relief flashed across his face. Then he smiled back.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Very good.”

You laughed.

“I didn’t know you got nervous.”

“I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Maybe a little.”

You grinned.

“I kind of like that.”

His eyes softened.

“I kind of like that you said yes.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. Then he opened the ambulance bay door for you.

“I’ll pick you up Friday at seven.”

“You already assumed I’d say yes?”

A slow grin appeared.

“I was hopeful.”

You started walking away. Then you stopped.

“Robby?”

He looked up.

“Yeah?”

You smiled.

“I like that you noticed the hummus.”

Something changed in his expression. It softened completely.

And then, very quietly, he said, “I notice a lot of things about you.”

You stood there for another second, your heart somewhere near your throat. Then you smiled again and headed toward the elevators. By the time the doors closed, you were grinning like an idiot.

You never saw Dana Evans walk up beside Robby. She folded her arms and smirked.

“Took you long enough.”

Robby looked at her.

“You knew?”

Dana laughed.

“Michael, everyone knew.”

You looked up from the chart.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your coffee.” She shrugged. “Robby used to always drink it black. Funny how people rub off on each other.”

You blinked. It was such a strange thing to say that for a second, you didn’t even know how to respond.

“Okay,” you said slowly.

She smiled a little wider.

“I’m just saying.”

Then she walked out. You stared after her. A few seconds later, your co-fellow, Sarah, looked up from her laptop.

“That was weird.”

You huffed a laugh.

“Right?”

“Very weird.”

You nodded and let it go. Because it was weird. But not enough to start something over.

******

The comments continued. Sometimes they were subtle. Sometimes they weren’t. Three days later, you were discussing a treatment plan with one of the residents when Heather walked by.

“You should ask Dr. Robinavich what he thinks.”

You frowned.

“Why?”

She lifted one shoulder.

“I don’t know. I assume you two talk shop.”

“We don’t really discuss my patients.”

“Really?” she said innocently. “Huh.”

Then she walked away. The resident beside you looked uncomfortable. You ignored it.

A week after that, you ran into her in the cafeteria. You were carrying your lunch and she sat down across from you without asking.

“How long have you two been dating now?”

You nearly choked on your sandwich. You and Robby hadn’t exactly hidden your relationship, but neither of you advertised it.

“A few months.”

She nodded.

“Still new.”

“I guess.”

“You know, he and I lasted almost a year.”

You looked at her. She smiled.

“He always works too much. Just something to keep in mind.”

You stared at her for several seconds. Then you forced a polite smile.

“Thanks for the advice.”

She seemed pleased with herself. You wanted to throw your sandwich at her. Instead, you got up and left.

******

By the end of the month, you dreaded running into her. Which made you angry. Because you weren’t a jealous person. You weren’t insecure. At least… you hadn’t been.

But there was something about Heather’s comments that left you feeling off balance. Like she knew something you didn’t. Like she was standing on the outside of your relationship, peering in and making judgments. It didn’t help that your relationship with Robby was still so new.

Three months. Three wonderful, confusing, beautiful months. You still got butterflies when he kissed you. Still smiled every time his name lit up your phone. Still couldn’t quite believe someone like him had chosen you.

You were protective of it. Protective of him. Protective of the little bubble the two of you had built. So when Heather poked at it, it bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

You found Robby later that evening in the emergency department. He was standing at the central station, glasses low on his nose, reading a chart. God, he looked good. Hair slightly messy, sleeves rolled up, stethoscope hanging around his neck.

He looked up. The second he saw you, his face softened.

“Hey.”

You smiled despite yourself.

“Hey.”

He held out his hand and you stepped closer, letting him tug you beside him.

“You surviving?”

“Barely.”

“Same.”

You laughed. He smiled.

“So you still can do it.”

“What?”

“You haven’t smiled all day.”

You frowned.

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He knew you too well already. That was dangerous. You sighed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

You looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Were you and Heather Collins serious?”

His eyebrows lifted.

“That’s random.”

“Answer the question.”

He considered you.

“Yeah. For a while.”

“Like… really serious?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We dated. It didn’t work.”

You tried to sound casual.

“Does she hate me?”

His face changed immediately.

“What?”

“I don’t know. She’s just… weird with me.”

“Weird how?”

You shrugged.

“She makes comments.”

“What comments?”

You recounted a few of them. By the end, he looked more confused than concerned.

“That’s it?”

You frowned.

“What do you mean, that’s it?”

“I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think she’s trying to upset you.”

Your stomach sank.

“Okay.”

“I mean, Heather’s sarcastic with everyone.”

“It doesn’t feel sarcastic.”

He studied your face.

“You think she’s jealous?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You kind of did.”

You looked away. He reached out and touched your arm.

“Hey.”

You looked back at him.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

There it was. That awful little feeling. Like maybe you were overreacting. Like maybe you were being childish. You forced a smile.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“I’m okay.”

He looked at you for another moment before sighing.

“All right.”

You smiled.

“Go save lives, Dr. Robinavich.”

His mouth twitched.

“You know you don’t have to call me that.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

You smiled.

“Because it annoys you.”

He laughed softly.

“Brat.”

You grinned and started walking backward.

“Bye, Chief.”

He shook his head.

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

You turned and headed toward the elevators. You didn’t see Heather standing at the end of the hall. You didn’t see her watching the two of you. And you definitely didn’t hear her quiet voice as she walked away.

“Three months,” she murmured to herself. “We’ll see.”

And unfortunately, she wasn’t finished with you yet.

******

By the following week, you had convinced yourself that maybe you really was overthinking things. You hated that feeling. You hated feeling insecure.

You hated feeling like a teenager with a crush instead of a thirty-something physician who had survived medical school, residency, fellowship applications, and enough overnight shifts to last a lifetime. You had worked too hard to end up questioning yourself over one woman and a few comments.

So you decided to ignore it. That lasted approximately forty-eight hours. You were sitting at one of the workstations in the emergency department, finishing your note on a six-year-old with pneumonia, when Heather slid into the chair beside you. You didn’t look up.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied pleasantly.

A beat of silence.

“You and Robby have plans tonight?”

You sighed inwardly.

“We’re getting dinner.”

“Oh.”

You kept typing.

“He still likes that Italian place downtown?”

You finally looked at her.

“I don’t know. We haven’t decided.”

She smiled.

“He always picked that place.”

You stared at her. She smiled wider.

“You’ll learn.”

You went back to your chart. A few moments passed.

“You know, he used to bring me coffee every Friday.”

You closed your eyes. There it is.

“I don’t really need a history lesson, Heather.”

She blinked innocently.

“I was just making conversation.”

“Okay.”

“You seem tense.”

You looked at her again.

“No, I seem busy.”

For a second, something flickered across her face. Then she stood.

“Have a good shift.”

You waited until she walked away before muttering under your breath.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Sarah beside you snorted.

“You okay?”

You rubbed your temple.

“Does she do this with everyone?”

She looked confused.

“Do what?”

You gestured vaguely.

“The comments.”

She looked over toward where Heather had disappeared. Then she looked back at you.

“Oh.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh what?”

SHe shifted awkwardly.

“I don’t know. I guess she… talks about Dr. Robinavich sometimes.”

“Wonderful.”

“You know how hospitals are.”

Unfortunately, you did. Hospitals were giant high schools with medical degrees. Everybody knew who dated who. Everybody knew who had divorced. Who had cheated. Who had gotten drunk at the Christmas party. Who had cried in a stairwell.

You had worked in enough hospitals to know better. Still, this felt different. This felt personal.

That evening, you met Robby at the little Italian restaurant downtown. The irony wasn’t lost on you. The second you sat down, he frowned.

“What happened?”

You blinked.

“What?”

“You’ve got your work face on.”

“My work face?”

“The one where you look like you’re mentally fighting someone.”

You laughed despite yourself.

“I do not have a face for that.”

“You absolutely do.”

The waiter came and took your drink order. The second he left, Robby leaned forward.

“Okay. What’s going on?”

You looked down at the menu.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You looked up. He was smiling. You sighed.

“Heather made another comment today.”

His smile disappeared.

“What did she say?”

You repeated the conversation. By the end, he looked more tired than angry.

“She’s weird.”

You blinked.

“That’s your response?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t know either.”

He leaned back.

“I really don’t think she’s trying to be mean.”

You looked at him. There it was again. That same little ache.

“I didn’t say she was mean.”

“You seem upset.”

“Because it’s weird, Robby.”

He sighed.

“I just don’t think she’s sitting around obsessing over us.”

You swallowed.

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

You looked away. He waited. Eventually, you sighed.

“I already feel like a kid here.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“I’m younger than a lot of the attendings. I’m new. I’m still proving myself every day.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

You gave him a look.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you.”

He blinked.

“What does that mean?”

You laughed softly.

“Come on.”

“No, explain.”

“You’ve been here forever. Everyone respects you. They listen when you speak.”

He looked almost offended.

“You think people don’t respect you?”

“I think I have to earn it.”

“You’ve already earned it.”

“You say that because you’re my boyfriend.”

He sat back.

“No. I say that because you’re a damn good doctor.”

You looked down at the table. His voice softened.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

“You’re younger than me but,” he started. “You’re not a kid.”

You smiled faintly.

“Thanks.”

“You know I mean it.”

“I know.”

The waiter appeared with your drinks. The conversation shifted. You talked about patients. About how tired you both were. About a movie you wanted to watch. By the end of dinner, you felt better.

Mostly. Then as you walked out onto the sidewalk, your phone buzzed. You glanced down. A message from one of the senior pediatric residents.

Emergency department needs peds consult in room eighteen. Looks like you’re getting called back in. Sorry.

You groaned. Robby laughed.

“Date night officially over.”

You sighed dramatically.

“We got forty-five whole minutes.”

“Very romantic.”

You shoved his shoulder. He smiled.

“I’ll walk you back.”

The two of you started toward the hospital. The summer air was warm, the sun setting behind the buildings. When you reached the emergency department entrance, you stopped.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Because our date got interrupted.”

He smiled softly.

“We work in emergency medicine.”

“I know.”

“This is practically foreplay.”

You laughed. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned. You shook your head. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that no one walking by could hear him.

“You know I like spending time with you, right?”

You smiled.

“I would hope so.”

“No. I mean it.”

His hand brushed your arm.

“I know this thing is still new.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip.

“ I like you though.” Robby said. “I like us.”

You looked at him.

“You do?”

He gave you a look.

“Obviously.”

You smiled.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“You like us too?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird.”

“Oh, it’s too late.”

You laughed. Then you leaned forward and kissed him quickly. His hand came to your waist for a second.

“Go see your patient,” he murmured.

“Bossy.”

“Damn right.”

You smiled and headed inside. The second you stepped into the emergency department, you saw Heather standing at the central station. She looked up. Her eyes immediately landed on you. Then the doors behind you. Where Robby was still standing outside for another moment before walking away. Heather looked back at you. A tiny smile crossed her face.

“Date night?”

You sighed.

“Apparently.”

She hummed.

“Enjoy it while you can.”

You froze.

“What?”

She picked up a chart.

“I said enjoy it.”

“No. You said, ‘while you can.’”

She looked at you as though you were being silly.

“I just meant our schedules are awful.”

You stared at her. She smiled.

“You seem really defensive lately.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm.

“I think I have a patient.”

“Mm.”

You started walking away. Then her voice followed you.

“He always gets bored with hospital relationships eventually.”

You stopped. The department around you seemed to quiet. You turned slowly. Heather looked up from her chart.

“What did you say?”

She blinked.

“I said he gets busy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Her face remained perfectly calm. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then she smiled.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

Your jaw clenched. You wanted to say something. Anything. Instead, you turned and walked away. But your hands were shaking. And for the first time since this whole thing had started, you realized something terrifying. You weren’t just annoyed anymore. You were angry. Very, very angry.

******

The next two days were hell. Not because of your patients. Not because of the workload. Not even because you were on your third twelve-hour shift in a row. It was because every time you saw Heather Collins, your entire body tensed.

You were angry. And you hated being angry at work. Pediatrics required patience. It required calm. It required you to walk into rooms where parents were terrified and somehow be the steady person in the chaos. You couldn’t do that if your blood pressure spiked every time one particular resident opened her mouth.

So you avoided her. You rounded through different hallways. Took different elevators. Ate lunch in the pediatric workroom instead of the cafeteria. It was ridiculous. You were a grown woman hiding from another grown woman.

By Thursday, you were irritated with yourself. By Friday, you were exhausted. And exhaustion was dangerous. Because exhausted people had short tempers. Exhausted people cried in supply closets. Exhausted people snapped. You should have known you were heading toward a disaster.

******

The emergency department was slammed. There were no beds. The waiting room was overflowing. Someone was crying. Someone else was yelling. One of the monitors at the central station was beeping incessantly.

It was, in other words, a perfectly normal Friday night. You had just finished seeing a four-year-old with a nasty asthma exacerbation when your pager went off again. Then your phone rang. Then another resident stuck her head into the room.

“Hey, peds needs you in twenty-three.”

“I’m literally walking there.”

“Cool. Sorry.”

She vanished. You blew out a breath. You had a headache. You hadn’t eaten since seven that morning. You were surviving entirely on coffee and spite. As you approached room twenty-three, you heard voices.

Heather’s was one of them. You almost turned around. Almost. Instead, you squared your shoulders and walked in. The patient was a teenage boy with abdominal pain. Heather stood beside the bed with one of the interns, discussing the case. She looked up when you entered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

You smiled politely at the family and introduced yourself. The next twenty minutes were perfectly normal. You examined the patient. Asked questions. Reviewed labs. Discussed a plan. For a brief, glorious period of time, you thought maybe today would be different. Then the patient’s mother looked at Heather.

“So, are you two doctors working together?”

Heather smiled.

“Technically.”

The woman nodded toward you.

“She seems very young.”

You laughed softly.

“I promise I’m old enough to be here.”

The mother smiled. Heather did not.

“No kidding. The first time I met her, I thought she was a med student.”

You smiled politely.

“I get that a lot.”

The mother chuckled.

“You’ll appreciate it when you’re older.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

Heather crossed her arms.

“She’s our pediatric fellow.”

The mother nodded.

“Oh! That’s wonderful.”

“It is,” Heather said. “Especially considering she has such… excellent support.”

You looked at her. The woman looked confused.

“What do you mean?”

Heather smiled.

“She’s dating our chief attending.”

The room went silent. You felt every muscle in your body tighten. The patient’s mother blinked.

“Oh.”

You forced a smile.

“It has nothing to do with my fellowship.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

Her voice was pleasant. Friendly. You wanted to scream. The mother looked awkward. The intern suddenly found the floor very interesting. You took a breath.

“Can we discuss the patient’s care outside?”

“Of course.”

You both stepped into the hallway. The second the door shut, you looked at her.

“What the hell was that?”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You know exactly what.”

“I was making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t.”

She folded her arms.

“You seem upset again.”

You stared at her.

“You need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“The comments.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“What comments?”

You actually laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound.

“Jesus Christ.”

She tilted her head.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You keep bringing up my relationship.”

“Because you’re dating my ex.”

There it was. Finally. You stared at her. She stared back. Then she shrugged.

“It’s not exactly a secret.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“So why are you acting like I said something inappropriate?”

Because you implied I only got here because of him. Because you act like I’m temporary. Because every comment feels like you’re waiting for us to fail. You wanted to say all of that.

Instead, you said, “You’re being incredibly unprofessional.”

Her expression changed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She crossed her arms.

“I think you’re being sensitive.”

There it was again. Sensitive. Defensive. You’d heard those words your entire career. Usually from people who didn’t want to admit they were being assholes. You took a slow breath.

“I’ve tried really hard to ignore this.”

“Ignore what?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Heather.”

Her eyes widened.

“I have done everything in my power to be nice to you.”

“I never said you weren’t nice.”

“You make comments constantly.”

“I make observations.”

“No. You make digs.”

She laughed softly.

“Digs? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

Her expression cooled.

“You know, maybe you’re just insecure.”

That hit. Hard. Because maybe you were. Maybe that’s why all of this had gotten under your skin. Maybe that’s why you suddenly felt twenty-two years old and completely out of place. She saw it on your face. And then she made the mistake.

She smiled. A tiny, knowing smile.

“You seem really worried about me being his ex.”

Something in you snapped.

“No. I’m worried that you keep acting like I slept my way into this fucking fellowship.”

Her eyes widened.

“I never said that.”

“You imply it every chance you get.”

“I think that’s your own issue.”

“No, I think you’re pissed because he moved on.”

The words were out before you could stop them. Silence. Complete silence. Heather’s face changed.

“Oh my God.”

“You heard me.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re exhausting.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“I dated him years ago.”

“Then act like it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Her voice rose.

“I am not jealous of your relationship.”

“Really? Because you sure spend a lot of time talking about it.”

“You don’t know a damn thing.”

“No, but apparently you know every restaurant he likes and how he takes his coffee.”

A few heads had turned. Someone was definitely listening. You didn’t care. Heather looked furious.

“You are acting incredibly immature.”

You laughed.

“That’s rich.”

“No, what’s rich is that you’re making this into some giant issue because you’re threatened by a woman he dated years ago.”

“I’m not threatened by you.”

“Liar.”

That was it. That one word. Liar. You stepped closer.

“I have worked too fucking hard to have my accomplishments reduced to who I’m dating.”

“I didn’t reduce anything.”

“You absolutely did.”

“You are putting words in my mouth.”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right.”

You were breathing hard now. People were openly staring.

“I am sensitive. Because every time you open your mouth, you find another way to remind me that you dated my boyfriend.”

She scoffed.

“Boyfriend. God, that sounds high school.”

You stared at her. Then something in you broke.

“You know what? Go to hell.”

The entire nurses’ station went silent. A beat passed. Then a voice behind you spoke.

“Well. This looks fun.”

You closed your eyes. You knew that voice. Slowly, you turned.

Dr. Susan Ross stood there. Chief of Pediatrics. Your boss. Her arms were crossed. And she looked deeply unimpressed.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered.

Susan sighed.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Heather looked equally horrified.

“Dr. Ross—”

“Nope.” Susan held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it here.”

She looked directly at you.

“My office.”

Then at Heather.

“You too.”

You felt sick. Absolutely sick. As Susan turned and walked away, one of the nurses winced.

Princess muttered, “Damn.”

You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Because in the span of five minutes, you had gone from irritated fellow to physician screaming in the middle of the emergency department. And there was absolutely no way this was ending well.

******

You sat in Dr. Susan Ross’s office for nearly forty minutes. Forty miserable, humiliating minutes. Susan had heard both sides. Or rather, she had listened while Heather defended herself and you sat there feeling like you were twelve years old and had just been sent to the principal’s office.

The worst part was that Susan wasn’t angry. She was disappointed. That somehow felt worse.

“I don’t particularly care who dated whom,” she’d finally said, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I care that two physicians had a personal disagreement in the middle of my emergency department.”

Neither of you had spoken. Susan’s gaze had landed on you.

“And I especially care that one of my fellows told a resident to go to hell in front of staff and a patient’s family.”

You had swallowed hard.

“I know.”

“I know you know.” She sighed. “I think there is more going on here than what happened tonight.”

Your eyes had dropped to your lap.

“But I cannot ignore the behavior.”

You nodded.

“I understand.”

“I am giving you a formal write-up.”

The words had felt like a punch. Not because you thought you didn’t deserve it. You did. You had lost your temper. You had been unprofessional. But it still hurt.

“I understand,” you repeated quietly.

Susan’s voice softened.

“I think you’re an excellent fellow.”

That almost made it worse.

“I really do.”

You nodded again.

“But tonight was unacceptable.”

“I know.”

“And I need you to figure out why you got to that point.”

You had barely managed a nod. By the time you left her office, your face was burning with embarrassment. You wanted to disappear. Instead, you went home. You showered. Put on sweatpants. Then sat on your couch and stared at absolutely nothing.

The write-up sat folded on your coffee table. You hadn’t moved it. You couldn’t bear to look at it. Your phone had buzzed three times. Once from Sarah. Once from another fellow, Jeremy. Once from Robby.

Heard there was an incident. Are you okay?

You hadn’t answered. Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You knew it was him. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home. Instead, you got up and opened the door.

Robby stood there in jeans and a navy T-shirt, his hair still messy from work. He looked tired. And concerned.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know.”

A beat passed.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside. He walked in slowly and looked around. Then his eyes landed on the paper sitting on your coffee table. He looked back at you.

“You got written up?”

You crossed your arms.

“Yep.”

He sighed softly.

“Jesus.”

Silence filled the apartment. Neither of you knew where to start. Eventually, he looked at you.

“So… what happened?”

You stared at him.

“What did you hear?”

“Not much.”

You nodded.

“Then what happened?”

You looked away.

“Apparently I told Heather Collins to go to hell.”

“Apparently?”

You huffed a humorless laugh.

“I definitely did.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“You don’t seem particularly sorry.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

You folded your arms tighter. He took a breath.

“Talk to me.”

You stayed quiet.

“Please.”

You looked at him. He looked genuinely concerned. And exhausted. And somehow that made everything hurt more.

“I lost my temper.”

“Okay.”

“And now I have a write-up.”

“Okay.”

Silence. Then he said the thing. The very wrong thing.

“You can’t do that.”

You blinked.

“What?”

“You can’t lose your temper like that at work.”

You stared at him. His voice stayed calm.

“I know you’re upset, but you have to keep your cool.”

Something sharp twisted in your chest.

“I know that.”

“I’m just saying—”

“No. Don’t.”

He frowned.

“Don’t what?”

“Do this.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

You laughed once.

“You came over here and the first thing you did was ask me what I did wrong.”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“I asked what happened.”

“And then immediately told me I can’t do that.”

“Because you can’t.”

You looked at him in disbelief.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

You shook your head.

“Wow.”

“Okay, I clearly missed something.”

“Yeah. You did.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Then explain it to me.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Then you laughed. Again. Except this time it sounded a little broken.

“You really don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Exactly.”

Silence. He looked genuinely confused. And suddenly you were angry. Not at him. Not really. At everything. At the write-up. At Heather. At yourself. At this stupid feeling of being small all the time.

“You know what the worst part of tonight was?”

He stayed quiet.

“It wasn’t getting written up.” You swallowed. “It wasn’t embarrassing myself.”

Your voice started to shake.

“It was sitting in Susan’s office and realizing I sound like a fucking child.”

His face softened.

“Hey.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, let me finish.”

He stayed quiet.

“I have worked my ass off to get here.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

He looked taken aback.

“I know everyone thinks pediatrics is cute and fun and all sunshine and stickers but I busted my ass for this fellowship.”

“I know you did.”

“I already feel like I have to prove myself every single day.” You looked at him. “And then I have someone making comments all the time like I only got here because I’m sleeping with the chief attending.”

His eyes widened.

“What?”

You laughed bitterly.

“That got your attention.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you this was happening.”

“You never said she implied that.”

“I shouldn’t have had to spell it out!”

He stared at you. You could see him trying to put the pieces together. Trying to understand. But it felt too late.

“I kept telling you something was wrong.”

“You said she made comments.”

“Yes.”

“And I didn’t realize—”

“Exactly.” Your eyes burned. “You didn’t realize.”

Silence. He looked at you carefully.

“Did she actually say that?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“Oh my God.” You threw your hands in the air. “There you go again.”

“What?”

“You don’t believe me.”

His face fell.

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You are literally questioning me right now.”

“I’m trying to understand.”

“No, you’re trying to figure out if I overreacted.”

“Look, I’m not the one who got into a screaming match at work!”

The apartment fell silent. You both stared at each other. The fact that he had raised his voice shocked both of you. You had never fought before. Not really. Disagreements, sure. Teasing. Annoyance. But this?

This was new territory. Your eyes filled immediately. And you hated yourself for it. Robby’s expression changed.

“Hey.”

You looked away.

“No.”

“You don’t have to cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You absolutely are.”

You laughed shakily.

“Fantastic. That’s exactly what I need right now.”

He stepped closer. You stepped back. That hurt him. You saw it. But you couldn’t help it.

“You know what I needed tonight?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

“I needed my boyfriend.”

Silence.

“I needed you to come in here and ask if I was okay.”

His face crumpled.

“I am asking.”

“No. You’re investigating.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It feels fair.” You wiped at your eyes angrily. “For once, I needed you to be my boyfriend instead of Chief Robinavich.”

The words landed. Hard. He looked like you’d slapped him. You hated that. But you couldn’t take it back.

“I walked out of Susan’s office feeling like a complete idiot.” Your voice shook. “I felt embarrassed and immature and honestly kind of pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic.”

“But that’s how I felt, Robby!” A tear slipped down your cheek. “I needed the person I’m dating to just… believe me.”

Silence.

“You questioned what I did before you even asked why I did it.”

Robby’s jaw tightened.

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know.”

You looked at him.

“I know you weren’t.”

A long silence followed. Neither of you moved. Finally, he spoke. Very quietly.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

That hurt too. Because honestly? Neither did you. You were both so new at this. Three months. Three months of stolen dinners and overnight shifts and sleepy kisses and learning each other’s coffee orders. You didn’t know how to fight. You didn’t know how to fix this. You looked away.

“I don’t know either.”

Silence. Then he nodded once. You looked back up. He looked tired. And hurt. And lost.

“Maybe we should both get some sleep.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Okay.”

He swallowed.

“I think we’re both upset.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you moved. Finally, he grabbed his keys.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You nodded. He walked to the door. Opened it. Then stopped. You thought maybe he’d come back. Thought maybe he’d kiss you. Maybe hug you. Instead, he looked over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

The tears in your eyes nearly spilled over.

“Thanks.”

He nodded once. Then he left. The door clicked shut. And the apartment suddenly felt enormous. You stood there for a long time.

Then slowly sat down on the couch. The write-up was still sitting on the coffee table. You picked it up. Stared at it. And finally let yourself cry. Because the fight with Heather hurt. Getting written up hurt.

But somehow the thing that hurt the most was realizing that sometimes even good people—people who cared about you—could completely miss what you needed. And tonight, the two of you had missed each other entirely.

******

You slept terribly. Which wasn’t surprising. You cried yourself to sleep sometime after midnight, woke up twice, and finally gave up around seven in the morning. Your apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You made coffee. Didn’t drink it. Turned on the television. Didn’t watch it. By ten o’clock, you were sitting on your couch in leggings and an old college sweatshirt, staring out the window.

You kept replaying everything. The fight. The look on Robby’s face. The way he’d left. The way neither of you had known what to say. You hated it. You hated fighting with him.

Three months wasn’t long enough to know how to fight with someone. You didn’t know if he needed space. You didn’t know if he wanted you to text first. You didn’t know if you should apologize. You didn’t know anything. Your phone remained silent.

By noon, you felt sick. By one, you were convinced you’d ruined everything. At one-thirty, there was a knock at your door. You froze.

Another knock. Slowly, you stood and walked over. You opened the door. Robby was standing there.

Hands shoved into his pockets. He looked tired. You probably did too. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he said quietly, “Can I come in?”

You stepped aside. He walked into your apartment and stood awkwardly in the middle of your living room. The two of you had never been awkward with each other before. That somehow made it worse.

You crossed your arms. He looked at you. Then looked away. Then back at you. Finally, he exhaled.

“I owe you an apology.”

You blinked. He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“I went to the hospital this morning.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

“I talked to Susan.”

“Oh.”

Silence.

“And then I talked to a couple people in the department.”

You stared at him.

“They heard it.”

You said nothing.

“They heard what Heather has been saying.”

The apartment was very quiet. He looked miserable.

“I didn’t know.”

You swallowed.

“I know.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I promise you…I really didn’t know.”

“I know, Robby.”

He looked at you for a long moment.

“You were telling me.”

Your eyes started to sting.

“And I kept brushing it off.”

You looked down.

“I thought you were reading too much into it.”

A long pause.

“I was wrong.”

You looked back up. Robby looked devastated.

“I was completely wrong.”

The tears threatened immediately. He took a small step closer.

“Susan told me everything.”

You swallowed.

“She said you’ve been dealing with this for weeks.”

You nodded once.

“She said you’ve ignored it and ignored it and ignored it until you finally snapped.”

Another nod. He exhaled shakily.

“And then she looked at me and said…” He laughed softly, humorlessly. “‘Your girlfriend made a mistake yesterday, but she didn’t start this.’”

Silence.

“I felt about two inches tall.”

You looked at him. He looked right back.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were simple. Quiet. But they sounded sincere.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. He continued.

“I’m sorry I questioned you.”

Another tear followed.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t believe you.”

You looked away. He stepped closer.

“I should’ve trusted you.”

Your chin trembled.

“I should’ve realized that if you were bringing it up, it mattered.”

You wiped angrily at your face.

“And…I should’ve been your boyfriend last night.”

That did it. You started crying. Immediately. Robby looked stricken.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

He crossed the room in three long strides. Then he stopped. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. That somehow broke your heart. You laughed through your tears.

“Come here, you idiot.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed. Then he wrapped his arms around you. And you fell apart. You buried your face in his chest and cried. Not pretty crying. Real crying.

The kind where your shoulders shook. The kind where you couldn’t quite catch your breath. His arms tightened immediately.

“I’ve got you.”

You cried harder.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair.

You shook your head.

“No, don’t apologize.”

“I’m going to anyway.”

You laughed weakly. He held you tighter.

“I’m so sorry.”

You stood there for several minutes, simply letting him hold you. Eventually, your crying slowed. Then stopped. You pulled back enough to look at him. His hands remained on your arms. Your eyes were red. He looked pretty rough himself.

“You look terrible,” you said.

He blinked. Then laughed.

“Thanks.”

“You have eye bags.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

Your expression softened.

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

Silence settled between you. Then you sighed.

“I’m sorry too.”

He frowned.

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“You had every right to be upset.”

“I still shouldn’t have yelled.”

“You also shouldn’t have been pushed to that point.”

You looked at him. He looked angry now. Not at you. At the situation.

“I hate that someone made you feel like your accomplishments belong to anyone but you.”

Your throat tightened.

“You earned your fellowship.”

You blinked.

“You are one of the hardest-working doctors I know.”

A tear slid down your cheek again.

“And for the record, you absolutely do belong here…whether you’re dated a jerk like me or not.”

You looked down. He gently tipped your chin back up.

“No. Look at me.”

You did.

“You belong here.”

His voice was firm.

“You belong in that hospital.”

Another tear.

“You belong in that fellowship.”

Another.

“And you definitely belong with me.”

You laughed softly through your tears. Then his expression softened.

“I’m really sorry.”

You nodded.

“I know.” A beat. “I hated fighting with you.”

You laughed quietly.

“It sucked.”

“It really sucked.”

“You left.”

He winced.

“I know.”

“I thought maybe…”

You stopped.

“What?”

You looked away.

“Nothing.”

He gently touched your cheek.

“What?”

You sighed.

“I thought maybe we were done.”

His face changed immediately.

“What?”

“You left.”

“Baby.”

“You said we should get some sleep.”

“I meant exactly that.”

You looked at him. His eyebrows lifted.

“You thought I was breaking up with you?”

You shrugged weakly.

“We’ve never done this before.”

The look on his face softened entirely. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. A little.

“Well, that’s depressing.”

You laughed despite yourself. He stepped closer.

“I wasn’t leaving you.”

“Oh.”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh.”

His smile grew.

“You really don’t know me yet, do you?”

You huffed a laugh.

“I guess not.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“For future reference?”

You looked up.

“I’m a stubborn bastard.”

You smiled.

“I’ve noticed.”

“And once I care about someone…” He shrugged slightly. “I don’t leave because we had one bad fight.”

Your eyes softened.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He smiled. Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours. You both stayed there for a long moment. Quiet. Warm. Together. Finally, he spoke.

“You know what the really shitty part of all this is?”

“What?”

He sighed.

“Now I have to see Susan on Monday.”

You laughed. He groaned.

“She looked at me like I was an idiot.”

You laughed harder.

“I am never living that down.”

You wrapped your arms around him again. He immediately held you close.

“You kind of deserved it.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

You smiled into his shirt. After a long moment, he kissed the top of your head. Then another kiss. Then another. You looked up.

“How many of those are there?”

“As many as necessary.”

You laughed. His eyes softened.

“Better?”

You thought about it. Then nodded.

“Yeah.”

He smiled.

“Good.”

You looked at him for a long moment.

Then quietly said, “I really like you.”

He blinked. The admission seemed to surprise him. A smile slowly appeared.

“I really like you too.”

You laughed softly. It felt silly. And vulnerable. And somehow perfect. He looked at you for another second. Then kissed your forehead.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

You frowned.

“That’s rude.”

“When?”

You thought about it.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You laughed. He smiled and slipped his hand into yours. And just like that, the heaviness of the last twenty-four hours eased. Not completely. There would still be awkward conversations. Work would still be messy. Heather would still exist. But as Robby squeezed your hand and led you toward your kitchen, one thing felt very certain.

You were both new at this. You didn’t know how to fight yet. You didn’t know all of each other’s scars or insecurities. But maybe that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that he’d shown up. And when it mattered, you’d both decided to stay.

******

The first few days back at work were awkward. Not because of Robby. Not because of Susan. Because of you.

You felt like everyone knew. Maybe they did. Hospitals had a way of making private things public in record time. You walked through the emergency department on Tuesday morning with your coffee in one hand and your laptop tucked under your arm, fully aware of every pair of eyes that glanced your way. Most people were kind.

Dana smiled at you. One of the residents asked how you were doing. Someone in radiology gave your shoulder a little squeeze as they passed. It somehow made you feel worse. You didn’t want pity. You wanted to rewind time and not lose your temper in front of half the department. You had just settled at one of the workstations when a voice spoke beside you.

“Morning.”

You looked up. Heather. You hadn’t spoken to her since Susan’s office. She looked tired. You probably did too.

“Morning.”

Silence. You opened your laptop. She remained standing there. Finally, she sighed.

“I heard you and Robby had a fight.”

You looked up slowly.

“I don’t think that’s your business.”

Her mouth tightened.

“I’m just saying… I’d hate for all this drama to affect your relationship.”

You stared at her. There it was again. That little comment. That little dig. Only this time, something was different. You weren’t angry. You were tired. Just… tired. You closed your laptop.

“Why are you doing this?”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Why?”

She folded her arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You sighed softly.

“That’s kind of the problem.”

She looked away. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then she shrugged.

“I guess I just don’t understand why everyone’s making this into such a big deal.”

You let out a slow breath.

“Because I don’t think you realize how your comments sound.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

You looked at her.

“I actually do.”

That seemed to surprise her.

“I think you say things without realizing how they come across.”

She looked uncomfortable.

“And I think I let it get under my skin more than I should have.”

Silence. Then she sighed.

“I’m not in love with him, you know.”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“No, but I think everyone assumes I am.”

You said nothing. She looked away.

“It ended years ago.” She laughed softly. “And honestly? We weren’t very good together.”

That made you smile a little.

“No?”

“No.”

A beat.

“He’s annoying.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. She did too.

Then a voice behind you said calmly, “I can hear both of you.”

You turned. Robby stood there holding a chart. Heather immediately looked horrified. You nearly laughed. He looked between the two of you.

“Should I be concerned?”

“No,” you said.

Heather sighed.

“Probably not.”

He looked suspicious. Then his eyes landed on Heather. Something seemed to click. His expression shifted.

“Actually… Dr. Collins? Can I speak with you for a minute?”

The entire nurses’ station went silent. You physically felt several people stop typing. Heather looked like she’d rather walk into traffic.

“Sure.”

Robby’s voice remained perfectly even.

“Private room?”

“Yep.”

She shot you one last look before following him. The second they disappeared, one of the nurses leaned over.

“Oh, I would pay money to hear that conversation.”

You snorted.

Princess whispered, “This is better than television.”

You covered your face.

“Oh my God.”

Ten minutes later, Robby returned. Alone. He walked up beside you.

“Everything okay?”

You looked up at him.

“You tell me.”

He huffed a laugh.

“Everything’s fine.”

“You have your chief face on.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

He sighed.

“Fine.”

“What happened?”

“We had a conversation.”

“Robby.”

He looked at you.

“Professional boundaries were discussed.”

You tried not to smile.

“You terrified her, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t terrify anyone.”

“Sure.”

He leaned closer.

“I may have strongly encouraged her to keep everyone’s personal relationships out of workplace conversations.”

You bit your lip. He looked at you carefully.

“Are you okay?”

Your expression softened.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“I’m okay.”

His face relaxed.

“Good.”

You smiled. Then his pager went off. You both sighed. He looked at the screen.

“I have to go.”

“Go save lives, Dr. Robinavich.”

His mouth twitched. He leaned down and kissed you gently.

“You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?”

So when your phone rang next to you on your bed at 01:39am you picked up without checking the name of the caller. Without checking if it was the 'Night Crawlers' asking for your help though you'd only gotten out five hours ago.

“Hello?” you mumbled, your vocal chords holding on for dear life.

Heck- you'd only been asleep three hours.

“Hey.”

You yawned. “Hey.”

There was a low chuckle down the line of the phone. “Sorry, I er- I didn't mean to wake you.”

“No, it's fine. You didn't,” you said though they absolutely did.

It took your sleep ridden mind a moment to recognise the low drawl on the other end of the phone. Robby.

Your body jerked awake with your minds realisation. “Robby.” You reached over, flicking on your lamp and sitting up in bed, pulling the covers closer to your chest. “What's going on? Is everything okay?”

There was a muffled sort of noise down the end of the line.

“Yeah... yeah... everything's fine.”

You waited for more. For some sort of explanation as to why he was calling you.

“I shouldn't have called.” Was all you got instead.

“No!” you said abruptly. “No, I'm glad you did. How's-how's wherever you are?”

“It's good. It's quiet.”

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Robby to call, the two of you had fallen into a routine of calling each other after hard days or good days. Your phone was compromised with calls from either your parents or Robby and the calls from Robby were heavily outweighing any others.

They lasted hours usually, the both of you calling it seemed as soon as you were each through the doors of your separate apartments. Even if you spent all day together in the ER, you never got tired of each other. You'd talk about the days traumas or something annoying Gloria had done. Other calls were maybe only minutes long where one of you would ask if the other would come over with pizza and beer.

Some- few and far between- lasted all night, the both of you falling asleep on either ends, plugging in your phones for the night and only ending it when you were both on your way into work.

But Robby had left on his great Sabbatical a week ago and you'd been faced with silence ever since.

“Too quiet?” you asked, pulling at the tassels of the blanket over your covers.

He hummed down the line. “Jus... different quiet.”

You nodded. “Is it pretty up there?”

“... Very.”

“You should send me pictures.”

“Yeah, I-” he cut himself off with a small annoyed grunt that you almost didn't pick up.

You could hear the silence beyond his words. No shuffling around like he did in his apartment, no low static from a tv just... nothing. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I jus...”

“Yeah?”

There was a deep sigh down the line. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

The worry that had clasped around your heart since the day he left gave a tight squeeze. Your stomach re-arranged and your mind went blank.

“Robby?”

“I just wanted to hear it.”

“Stay on the line with me, then, let's talk. Talk about anything.”

“It's late, I should... go,” he uttered. “Let you sleep.”

“No, I wanna talk, I-” there was suddenly very little on the other end of the phone. “Robby? Robby?”

You looked down to your phone and your home screen was staring back at you. A picture of Robby, leaning over the nurses counter with a pair of glamours and far too big sunglasses on. You'd snapped it in seconds, made it your background in even less time.

Why? Because he was your friend. Probably your closest friend.

And he'd just called to hear your voice and put the phone down.

Your fingers fumbled as you called his name but got nothing. You tried twice more before you stumbled on your feet and started to dress, picking up whatever clothes that weren't scrubs from your bedroom floor.

You hastily parked, narrowly missing another car parked out front the Pitt. You ran through the ambulance bay, ignoring those that saw you and questioned if you were working today.

You ran through like you were hurt. You might be- if Robby was.

“Jack!” you rushed in, yelling.

“Woah- hey!” said Ellis, the first to find you. “Everything alright with you?”

“Is Jack around?” you asked, breathless like you'd ran all the way.

“He's in a trauma, honey,” said Lena, clocking you. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, hands on your hips as you caught your breath. You'd tried Robby at least ten more times, dropped him texts and were getting nothing back. Complete radio silence like he'd dropped off the face of the earth.

You prayed he hadn't.

The doors to trauma two flung open and Jack walked out, clocking you at once as he pulled off his gown and gloves.

“Hey- what's going on?” he asked.

You rushed to him like he was a lifeline and you were drowning. Your chest felt so tight you might've been.

Jack caught your arms. “Woah, woah, woah, you don't look so good, what's happened?”

“It's Robby.”

Jack's face dropped, his hands gripping your elbows to either steady himself or you. “What's happened?” he asked, seriously.

The two of you walked away from the residents slowly forming, hearing 'Robby' and nothing on the other end.

You brushed your hair back, sweat beading at your forehead. “He called me. Randomly! He just called, said he wanted to hear my voice, that was half an hour ago and now he's just- he's not picking up. I've called, I've text but there's nothing.”

“Did he say anything else?” asked Jack.

“No, not really.”

The two of you paused at a quiet corner.

Jack took in a deep breath.

“Jack, I'm scared what if he.... what if he's?” you chocked on the word you couldn't say, hand clamping to your mouth like you might throw up.

His hand held your back, firm. “He wouldn't.”

You shook your head. You wished you could believe it but he'd seemed so defeated when he left. After a whole day of telling people he didn't know when he'd be back, if he was coming back at all he'd left you with a lingering hug, promising you he would be back.

The phone call didn't feel like a promise. It felt like a break.

Jack was silent, thinking while you were trying everything not to.

“I'm really scared he would,” you whispered.

Jack nodded, understanding. He'd done everything to try to make him stay, or everything to at least get him on the right tracks of searching for help and not running from demons.

If there was anyone who could have got through to Robby it was Jack... or it was you.

“Where's he staying again?” you asked Jack.

“It was a lake, cabin there... Lake Huron?” Jack searched through his phone. “He gave me the address, or I pried it out of him- here-” he showed you his phone.

You snatched it from him, startling him for a moment. You found your contact in Jack's phone that was rather low on contacts and forwarded the address to you. “I'll go find him.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, hands on his hips again. “Are you even okay to be driving?”

“I'll go mad, I will drive myself crazy wondering if he's okay if I don't go.”

Maybe Jack could see it in you then, could see the desperation.

“If this is a cry for help I'll help him.”

Jack sighed, half resigned, half knowing that if you didn't go, he would. “Okay... Okay. I'll keep trying him here. Take this-” he all but forced some protein bars in your hand before embracing you. “Drive safe, call me if you need anything and I mean anything.”

You let yourself for a second enjoy the comfort. “What if I get there and it's too late?”

Jack pulled back, cradling you. “You won't. Don't think about that, okay?”

It was all you could think about, the idea voiced out loud to the universe. The only thing that pushed you from Jack and back out the Pitt was the longer you lingered, the more you'll miss him.

His motorbike was there, sat like an insult.

You'd pulled up and stared at the bike like it had personally offended you. It had. It was the very thing that drove him away from you and it sat there like it belonged with Robby and you didn't.

Maybe it was the hundreds of miles you'd driven, the hours it took or the several calls un-answered but you got out your car, hitting the side of your door into the metal.

There was a satisfying scratch as you did so and then you did so again and again until you were sure you'd made your distaste clear, until you'd thrown your anger and worry into the thing-

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” called out a voice and rushed feet. “What are you doing!?”

Robby was in low gey sweat pants and a white shirt, bare foot as he walked out the cabin, marching over. Out of his scrubs he looked almost un-recognizable but you'd know him anywhere.

You stood from your car and he stopped in place.

Robby frowned, squinting through the sun. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I- What am I-” you stuttered. Did he expect you not to do anything about the heart ache he'd given you.

Robby watched as you rounded your car.

You'd thought a hundred terrible things you'd find on your way over. You'd thought of all the things you'd say to him if you found him safe and sound. They all evaporated as you pushed him.

Robby stumbled back when your hands shoved at his chest. “Wha-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you yelled. Admittedly- it was not one of the things you thought you'd say to him.

“What the fuck were you doing to my bike?” he yelled back, not harshly but having to shout over your own voice.

“What the fuck were you doing calling me in the middle of the night?!” you pushed at him again but he didn't move or say anything. You shoved him and shoved him. He only rocked on his heels, didn't even wince.

Were you hurting him even a fraction of the way he hurt you?

“You couldn't answer your phone?” you snapped. “Are you kidding me? I was scared! I was so fucking scared!”

“Okay-okay-” he finally fought back, batting away every wave of your arms.

“You scared me! I was scared! I was so scared! I was... I was-”

“Okay, okay.”

You didn't know who gave up first, whether it was you or Robby but you were quickly brought into his chest. His arms pulled at you till you were pulled into him and he held you in his grasp. You could blame it on exhaustion later but you let yourself sink into him and grasp at the back of his shirt.

You could feel his heart beating and felt he was alive.

Robby led you into the cabin and spared you the tour, taking you first into the kitchen and sitting you down on the stall. He poured you a coffee, making it just the way you appreciated.

It was warm inside, all deep wood and open space. Large windows overlooked the lake glistening in the early morning sun. There was a bag left by the door, the jacket Robby had worn leaving slung over the back of a chair.

Other than that there was little sign of a life he'd seemed so happy to run to.

Across from you, Robby pulled out his phone and turned the power off.

“You turned it off?” you asked.

He nodded without looking at you, watching as it slowly came to life. “After calling you I... yeah.”

Together you watched as his lifeless background flickered to brightness before dozens of texts and missed calls began notifying him.

“Might want to turn that off again,” you said with a breathless chuckle.

You watched as Robby watched every call and text come through. You knew some of your texts were worried, 'please call me!' some were angrier that he'd have you so worried.

“I just, needed some space,” said Robby, rubbing the back of his head.

“You called me.”

He looked down but bobbed his head in a nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” you uttered, wrapping your hands around the hot mug of coffee. You hadn't realised how cold you were until you felt the heat. “Why call me and then turn off your phone you must have known I'd worry.”

Robby looked up at you through his lashes. His hair had gotten longer, beard too. It made him look younger and refreshed but his eyes were still dark. “I wasn't thinking. I didn't do it to hurt you.”

You nodded, trying to understand. “Did you do it to hurt yourself?”

Finally, it was as if he understood.

Robby walked around the counter and settled in the stall next to you. He didn't reach for your hand, didn't hold you at all but his body curved around you. “I called you because I wanted to hear your voice. I've been alone for a week and all I've wanted to do was talk to you. I thought hearing your voice would-” he wrapped his fingers into a fist to announce something but the words didn't follow.

“You have no idea how scared I was that something happened to you,” you uttered, hardly feeling your lips move but you felt the effect of the words between the two of you.

Still, Robby didn't say sorry.

He didn't say anything.

Carefully you un-wrapped your fingers from the mug and stood up.

Robby's eyes watched you go.

“I should call Jack, I told him I'd call when I got here. So...”

On the front steps of the porch you settled down and texted Jack, not finding the strength to explain over the phone. You told him Robby was safe, knowing he'd be finishing up his shift and heading home.

At least one of you would get a good nights sleep.

The wind whispered of kindness and the warmth you’d never felt before kissed your skin. It calmed you- if only for a second. Maybe that was why Robby had ran here.

The front door squeaked Robby stepped out, stretching in the glow.

His shirt rode up enough for you to be welcomed with a slither of his stomach, wide and hair trailing down his joggers.

You cleared your throat and turned away. “Sorry about your bike.”

He chuckled. “Not me you should apologise to, but Duke.”

“He’s doing well by the way,” you said. “If you haven’t been speaking to him, he’s been coming in, asking about treatment. I’ve took over his case.”

Robby nodded like he knew this. “I wouldn't trust anyone else.”

Was that why he called you? In a way you were flattered, glad that he had called but you couldn't quite feel it through the fear yet.

Robby moved as if he was going to settle down next to you and you jumped up before he could. He stepped back, peering through the light to look at you.

“Well I'm glad you're okay,” you said, dusting off your pants. “But I should probably go.... I got work.”

Robby shook his head. “No you don't. Just cause I'm not working doesn't mean I don't see the scedule.”

Ah.

If anything you'd love to stay, for an hour, for a day, for the rest of his trip. Ever since you and Robby had met his presence was warmth to you even if his attitude sometimes came off as anything but.

But the longer you stay with Robby the less you can be held accountable for what your thoughts conjured up.

“You drove over five hours through the night to come up here. Three hundred and sixty miles,” he stated as if reading from some charting notes.

“Because I was worried about you.”

He was a step over you, his body looming. “Stay a while. At least drink your coffee and get some rest.”

You had, a very rare, two days off ahead of you. You could drink the coffee and even get in a nap before heading home. In your mind you were already planning to go home and sleep till you were called in.

Robby's hands pushed against each other in front of his chest. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Still neither of you moved from the steps.

The birds overhead sung a song for the two of you and the trees stopped in their breeze to watch what would come next.

“You wanna see the lake?” Robby asked, moving down the stairs before you could say anything.

He led you around the cabin and there still wasn't a whisper of life. You hadn't noticed any other houses up the road you travelled nor another human. Silence and rest was good for a time but three months for a man that fell asleep either with the tv or listening to your voice didn't seem healthy.

The lake was still, only small ripples from fish bobbing seen. Across the way- and it was far- there was maybe another house or two, docks and boats. Larger houses than you could ever afford, prettier then you'd ever have the time to do up.

You were already calculating how fast one of his 'neighbours' could get to him if something should happen.

Robby crouched next to you, brushing his fingers in the water.

“You been swimming?”

“In lake water, no.”

“Why not? It's nice.”

He didn't seem convinced.

You didn't know what you were thinking. Well... you hadn't really been thinking the last several hours. You rolled your jean pants up till they were under the knee and slipped off your shoes and socks.

“Are you? What?” Robby mumbled as you slowly stepped in.

First your feet squelched in mud before it found stones and pebbles. The water was cold but not unwelcome as it stroked against your ankles.

Oddly, it focused you.

“You've had this lake here the whole time and haven't done anything about it?” you asked, facing away from him.

Robby didn't say anything.

When you turned, wondering if he was still there, you found him in the water, slowly making his way to you. His feet were already bare and he'd tried to roll up his grey sweat pants but one of the legs had fallen down and a darker grey was creeping up.

“Jesus-” his winced, tensing. “Fucking cold.”

“Baby,” you uttered under your breath.

He crossed his arms over his chest, the shirt pulling at his arms.

“You just have to get used to it,” you told him, dipping your hands in.

Robby still didn't seem convinced, standing there with his body rigid.

Maybe he hadn't been relaxing like you thought this last week.

There was a beat of anger in your heart again. It was quickly replaced by... something else. Something you couldn't put a label to. Something that told you you needed to see him smile, or hear him laugh and that you'd do nearly anything for it. You wanted to feel the planes of his shoulders relax under your touch alone.

You plunged your hands in and brought them up in a quick whoosh- successfully splashing Robby.

His head whipped around as he jumped at the cold. Water ran down his nose, dripping into his beard.

You were only supposed to give him a hard glare but you couldn't help but laugh at the sign of his anger while dripping.

“It's not funny,” he said using his best doctor voice.

You laughed again and turned away.

Suddenly there was a splash and cold water ran down your back, soaking your top. It stuck to your back and chilled your spine.

Robby stood there, hands wet and smile all too smug.

The both of you ended up chuckling, splashing each other, each trying to run away while stay close enough in the shallow water to win one over on the splashing scale.

“Robby! Stop! Stop!” you shrieked as he got sizable splashes on you.

Your feet stumbled in the rocks, your body pitching back.

At once Robby was in front of you, arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you up.

“Easy, easy.”

Your own heart was racing, you knew that much. Through the thin material of your shirt that was sticking to you from water you could feel another beating heart, it's rhythm practically matched with your own.

Robby's hair was damp, droplets of water falling between the two of you. You could see the indents of his chest as his shirt stuck to him and the other leg on his joggers had fallen.

He couldn't have cared less, not when he was looking in your eyes in the way that he was.

You couldn't help it. Really, you couldn't. Your eyes flickered down to his lips of their own accord.

“Why did you call me?” you asked again.

Robby breathed against you, his arm holding tight while his fingers curled and un-curled on your hipbone. He gulped before he spoke. “Because I missed you. Since walking away from you a week ago I... I've missed you.”

That you knew.

“I'm fucked up,” he added. “I know I have a hundred and one things I need to figure out and think about but you're all I can think about. You're in my head all day.”

“What does that mean?” You asked.

You could guess what all the late night calls and lingering touches meant, or the smiles he only gave to you. Guessing wasn’t knowing.

Knowing was as his lips met yours. They were chapped and light to the touch but his arm was strong around you, holding you in. His fingertips dug into the skin of your hips, voicing the need his lips were tentative to give.

You knew you risked slipping but you stretched up on your toes to meet him, to push your lips against his.

His arm curled around you, his other hand engulfing your face in his large palm. You kissed him back harder.

Robby’s nose bent against yours as he angled deeper, breaking apart only a fraction for a breath.

You flattened yourself against his chest, practically climbing up.

He held onto you, letting you as your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Your tongue traced his lips and he pulled back. “Please.”

Robby pulled back your hair, hand holding your face into his. “Stay. I want to take you up to that cabin. I want to make you mine. I never want you to leave.”

His teeth grazed the lobe of your ear, biting down before soothing it.

The lake washed up to your calves as you nodded.

The walk up to the cabin was filled with grabbing and pulling hands, eager lips and hushed whimpers.

Robby slid the back doors open, slamming them shut behind him before grabbing you again.

Your hands were all over him, feeling the curve of his body as you both led the way and let his own hands dictate where you move to. His hands, cold and wet, dragged under your shirt and groped at any bits of skin he could get.

You whimpered against his lips when his hands crawled up your back.

Robby gasped into your mouth, his tongue prodding yours. “I'm obsessed with you.”

The two of you stumbled your way to the sofa. You pulled at Robby's shirt and he broke away long enough- though resigned to throw his shirt off.

He reached to kiss you but your hands met his chest and you nudged him down on the sofa. He fell back with a humph and you could see the hardening line of his cock and your mouth watered.

Robby grabbed your hip before you could get an eye full and tugged you into his lap. His tongue was in your mouth, your saliva mixed with his as you let your hands wonder down his chest to his round stomach. You wanted to feel all of it and more.

“Don't, don't,” he mumbled against your lips, the word hardly legible as he wouldn't pull away long enough.

It wasn't an order. He just didn't want you to feel the curve of his stomach.

Did he know how you drooled for him?

You dragged your nails lightly over him. “I love your body, Robby. I always wanted to see you under your clothes.”

You kissed under his jaw, holding onto the side of his face as you nuzzled into his neck, kissing and biting at the skin. There was the faint trace of sweat and wood on him and your breathed him in.

“Yeah?” his voice came out hoarse.

You nodded into him.

Robby's hands grabbed at your backside and squeezed. He brought you in closer to his cock that you struggled to feel through the layers of clothes.

But you knew it was there and you knew he was hard.

He moved you against him and moved your hair back, sucking on the skin he could find an leaving trails of saliva as he moved down the path.

“Robby,” you groaned. Your hand moved between the two of you to sink between your bodies, grasping his dick through his sweats.

He seethed. His fingers wrapped around your neck gently, forcing you back to look at him . His eyes were hooded, glued to your lips. “You want it?”

Your fingers played with the elastic of his joggers. “I want it. I've wanted it-”

“- don't say it-”

“- so long, Robby. Wanted it for so long.” Slowly your hand wrapped around him.

He was hot and your hand wrapped around the thickness of him and the length that only continued to grow as you slowly coaxed your hand up and down. There was pre-cum leaking over your hands and you used it to your leverage.

“Wanted it when we'd call every night, every time you'd come over.”

Robby's eyes fluttered close and his head tilted back on the sofa. His jaw worked at holding on the tension. “Fuck.”

You watched the flush of his face as you slowly moved your hand, jerking him slow enough to drive him insane. He drove you insane, and not just from acting like you both didn't understand what all those small things meant between each other. But driving you mad all night.

“Your cock feels so good,” you whispered.

“It's not even inside you yet.”

Robby lurched suddenly and kissed you hard enough that you could feel the indent of his teeth through his lips.

You couldn't help but work him a little faster, his breath becoming laboured.

Eventually though he forced your hand out of his pants and pushed your arms up. He threw off your shirt and before you knew it his face was smooched between your breasts.

You gasped, your hips rocking into his again as your back arched. He perused your every move. “Robby!”

His teeth grazed your breast before he pulled your bra down and freed yourself. His hand groped while he focused his attention on the other one, tugging your bra down.

Shit, his tongue was wet and hot as it made a path from one to the other and travelled back and forth.

Your hands wound around his neck, fingers running through the ends of his hair.

His beard scratched your chest as you angled yourself into his mouth. He took a nipple in, swirling his tongue.

“Sh-shit,” you gasped.

“Grind on me,” he said, still holding your breast in mouth. “Grind on me- atta girl.”

Your hips moved against him, not only dragging your throbbing pussy over his cock but the meat of his thighs. Anything for some friction and you could feel the dampening of your knickers.

Robby groaned as he gave his attention to the other breast, leaving your chest wet and you a withering mess.

“Robby I really need you,” you uttered. “Really need you now.”

He chuckled against your chest before slowly winding his way back up. “Easy, we've got all day,” he said as he reached around and un-clasped your bra.

You shook your head. “Don't wanna wait.”

He grinned.

“Been so long, Robby,” you whined. “Do you want to wait?”

It was as if he'd realised that in making you wait he'd have to make himself wait.

“No.”

In a struggle Robby managed to pop the buttons of your jeans and get his hand down your pants.

Gently, his middle finger slowly worked your clit.

“Huh-oh,” you moaned.

“I could slip in just like that,” Robby uttered. “So wet, huh?”

You nodded, your mouth hanging open as a finger of his slipped in and curled.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers digging in as he pumped his finger inside of you and curled it. All the while he watched your face contort in pleasure.

“You like that?” he asked, quiet.

You hummed, lips pursing.

“Tell me, tell me.”

“Really like it, Robby.”

He kissed you again, the both of you equally as desperate to get any part of each other you could. The smack of lips and the groans and moans bounced around the room.

“Stand up, stand up,” he urged, taking his finger and making you stand.

In a daze you did, thinking this was when he stirred you toward the bedroom.

Instead he harshly pulled down you pants and panties and shoved his face into your cunt.

You squealed out a gasp as his tongue flicked your clit, hands prying apart your thighs as Robby sat on the edge of the sofa. He flattened his tongue against you and rubbed up and down. “Oh fuck- oh fuck!”

His hand left your body and returned with a harsh slap to your ass cheeks. They rippled under his palm and jolted your body into him, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves.

Robby slapped your ass again and again until you were crying out. His fingers dug into the flesh or you ass, prying it apart as he worked in tongue in deeper inside of you.

“Robby, I'm not gonna... I'm gonna-”

He moaned into you as he carried on messaging your ass cheeks apart, reaching deeper and deeper into you. He pulled back to spit on your pussy before licking and slurping and making out with it.

“Robby I'm gonna- gonna cum!”

In seconds you were releasing all over his mouth and as you expected him to pull away he went further in.

The cabin was full of sounds of sin as you came down from you high and Robby took it all in. He kissed away the mess, licking it up as his fingers rubbed around your pussy.

Your legs trembled. He kept an arm wrapped around the back of them to steady you into him, like holding his favourite meal close.

He cleaned you up good and your heart calmed down. The only thing you were left hearing in the cabin was the sound of both your laboured breaths.

“You're good at that.”

Robby pulled back, wiping away his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood slowly and you could see the heavy outline of his cock. “Just wait till you see how good I am in the sack.”

You chuckled. “Is that what the old people call it?”

He cocked his head aside and kissed his teeth. “Oh you're asking for it.”

He swatted at your ass again and forcefully turned you around. He pulled your hips in and you could feel the rub of his cock through the material of his joggers.

For a moment you thought he was going to bend you over and fuck you there.

With his hands guiding your hips and his front rubbing against your ass he lead you up the stairs, only forcing you to stop once on there to make out with you like you were teenagers sneaking in after a party.

His room was large and much more lived in with rumpled sheets and clothes thrown around. There was a pile of scrubs in the corner from how fast he'd left after work. The tv was still on but the volume turned down low.

His hands were on your neck, kissing you again.

You indulged, running your tongue along his as his hand instantly went down to your pussy.

“Get on the bed.”

You didn't listen. Instead, you slowly lowered to your knees in front of him, pulling down his sweats.

“No, no, no I wanna fuck you, honey.”

“You will,” you assured.

His hand wrapped in your hair but he didn't force you into anything. “Now, can't wait.... can't wait.”

“Let me take care of you,” you said. “Please.”

Robby couldn't say no.

Robby was a large guy and his cock showed it. It was a good length but it was the thickness that had you wet. You darted out and took the head of him in your mouth.

Any dismissal died on his lips in a groan as his head tilted back, his hands flying to the back of his neck as he brushed his hair back, basking in the feel of your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum landed on you tongue and you swirled it around the head of him, wrapping your hand around the base. You took an inch of him more and more, stirred on by his groans.

You only had half of him before you retracted and went down again, bobbing up and down and letting spit spill as you hands moved around what you didn't take.

“Stop, stop,” he panicked and pulled you off and up. He stepped out of his jogging bottoms. “I'll cum in your mouth but not tonight... not tonight.”

Robby crowded you as you shuffled onto the bed, falling into the sheets that smelled like him. He forced his tongue in your mouth as he pumped his cock, teasing himself at your entrance. “I don't have condoms.”

“I'm on the pill.”

“Okay-okay, spread your legs a little more, just like that, baby,” he coaxed.

Slowly- he guided himself in.

There was a push of pain as his cock found its home and he groaned at the feel of your walls, the sound ripped from the back of his throat.

“Oh- oh fuck!”

“Please... more,” you whined, clawing at his shoulders.

He shook his head. “I'll cum. Fuck, I'll cum.”

“I want you to.” And you did. You didn't care if it was over in seconds, you just wanted to feel him, know he was there with you as one. And know later you could spend time taking him, spend time dragging out pleasure till you cried from it.

“No you don't, no you don't,” he said, coaching himself. “You want this to last.”

He pushed in more and the pain disappeared once he'd pushed all of him in, bracing his weight on his hands at either side of you.

“Robby-” you arched your back up, wanting the weight of him on you. Wanting- needing to be engulfed by everything that was him.

Like he understood from your simple whine he let his weight dip on your chest as he pulsed inside of you. Then he was slowly moving out, the tip of his cock jutting out your entrance before he pushed in again.

Eventually there was a mix of your whines, his breathless groans and the creak of the bed as Robby created a rhythm of movement. The thrusts that had him bottoming out in you, that had your nails scratching his skin and the bed rattiling.

“Tell me you missed me,” he said, picking up his head from where he was busy kissing marks into your neck.

“I missed you.”

“Tell me you'll always need me.”

You moan as the head of his cock reaches your g-spot.

“Always. Always.”

Robby's hand caressed down you leg before he hitched it up around his waist and you pushed him in deeper with the advantage. “I'm not gonna last, wanted this so long, not gonna last. You gotta come for me, yeah?”

“Want you to- want you to-” the familiar burn of heat and pleasure in your stomach coiled tight, tighter than ever.

“I will, I will,” he growled low in his throat, hiking your leg higher, reaching you deeper. The rock of the bed grew as the smack of your bodies echoed. “We have time for more, so much more, but I need to feel you cum on my cock. Make me happy... take care of me. You wanna do that don't you? You wanna take care of me?”

The hand that wasn't holding your thigh up cupped your cheek, getting your attention.

You nodded and focused on the feel of him.

Robby nodded along and the plap of your bodies grew faster, steadier. “Come on, come on, come on...”

With a loud whine you let go, clutching at his shoulders and holding him in. Your thigh spasmed in hir grip.

Robby grunted in the line of your jaw, riding out your orgasm with a couple more hard thrusts before he pumped inside of you. “Ah... ah...” his body slumped onto yours even as he slowly moved in and out, trembling as both your orgasms spilled out onto the sheets of his bed.

Your hand fell to the back of his head, stroking him there.

His cock was softening inside of you, twitching out the last of his orgasm.

Robby kissed you slow like he had in the lake, like you were all starting again. “I... I...”

You kissed him again. The words he was trying to say had been in every tender moment between the two of you. The laughter's and invitations to each others houses and lives. Every touch he'd given you and every kiss carried the words he couldn't speak.

The sun kissed his glowing skin over you and you could see it written in his skin.

You stroked back his hair. “ I know.”

Whitaker's hand hesitated in the air like they were in class. “Well I think by casual she means-”

“I know what casual means, Fuckle-berry,” said Santos quickly. “But it was casual now it's just weird.”

You nodded along, humming.

She groaned, hands running through her hair in frustration. “I don't get it!”

You took a long gulp of your wine.

“How do you handle it?” Trinity asked, arms wide in question at you.

“Me?”

“Yeah, how do you and Robby do casual?”

“Oh- we... it's- um-” you stumbled over your words, hoping that if you let it up long enough she'd take it back and start on her problems again. She didn't and she stood in front of you and Whitaker, waiting for an explanation.

The whole thing between you and Robby had started about the same time Santos and Garcia started. In an awkward confrontation that was you and Trinity bumping into each other in your shared bathroom, both your hairs messed up and both supporting bruises suspiciously in the shape of lips on your necks.

When you returned to your room you and Robby waited eagerly to see who would flee Santos's room. Neither too shocked to find Garcia.

“It's um?” Trinity asked.

“It's going,” you said into your wine glass, finishing it and pouring in more. The truth was for a while things had been odd, on your end more so.

Casual was a label you thought you could do, that when Robby said to you a week after sleeping together, his sheets over the both of your bodies that he liked keeping it simple. Sex. Release. You thought you could do it.

Almost three months since then and you were regretting it because every time you saw doctors eyes lingering over Robby, every time you heard his 'seven-week rule' and every time you saw happy couples fawning over each other in the ED your stomach twisted.

You didn't realise you wanted that until it was dangled in front of you and snatched away all in the same minute.

Trinity's brows rose. “Oh?”

You looked to where Whitaker was next to you, hoping for sympathy. You only found curious eyes. “It's just different than before.”

“Different how?” asked Dennis.

“Is it still casual?”

You scoffed, mumbling under your breath. “Yeah to him.”

“You want to be more?”

You didn't know if she was accusing but your room-mates expecting eyes on you heated your body in shame and embarrassment. “And you don't with Garcia?"

“Ok, enough!” suddenly Whitaker stood up. “The two of you, we need to sort this out.”

With a vacant seat next to you Trinity plopped herself down and you gave her your wine. You just decided to take the bottle.

“I cannot stand it anymore, okay! The two of you, we're gonna change this,” he said. “Trin- no more pining and waiting for Garcia to call at like one am.”

She was wanting to retort but only folded her arms over her chest as he carried on.

“And you-” he focused on you. “Need to stop crying over Robby. You guys can do better.”

“Yeah in a world where we're not working twelve hour shifts five days a week,” you said. The idea of casual hook ups wasn't anything new to the ED, not even the hospital. It was easy way of escape without the pressure of dating when all their time was spent saving lives or charting about saving lives or studying how to save lives.

On the coffee table in front of you Trinity's phone pinged and she reached for it like it was seconds away from self-destructing.

She tucked her phone into her chest to read the text before slamming it back down.

You caught a glance at the words and the contact. Can't make it tonight, I'll hit you up tomorrow- G

“You're gonna leave them,” he said.

You and Trinity sat up. “What?”

“No!”

There was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Okay- I take it back,” he said, surrendering. “Then how about give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“Their medicine?” you asked.

Whitaker gently nudged the empty glasses and cans of beer aside, perching on the edge of the coffee table, appealing to the two of you. “How many times have they cancelled plans, or said you couldn't come over to ask you to come over two hours later?”

You hadn't realised how perceptive he was.

“Now, make it so you guys call the shots. They want to come round, you say no.”

The idea was new to you. You'd always wanted Robby. You spent half your spare time wanting him and the other half having sex with him. You'd never even wanted to say no.

“So then we what, don't have sex?” asked Santos.

“You will,” he said. “You create distance, get them wanting and crying or what-whatever and then they'll realise they've messed up.”

You thought we was giving them too much credit.

Santos chuckled. “Huckleberry, are you telling us to play hard to get?”

He thought about it, eyes moving as if he was calculating it. “Yes!”

That's how plan 'hard to get' started. It was agreed you and Santos, the next time Garcia and Robby asked you to come over you'd say no.

Easier in practise when you work with them.

The next day was a slower day, un-usual in that sense. It meant everyone had more time to linger around each other.

“And so I said to him- officer-” said Myrna, lying on the bed between you and Robby. She'd seizure, hurt her leg and needed it disinfected and cleaned- not for the first time in her life. There was a mix of glass and gravel that needed plucking out and apparently the attending of the ED had nothing better to do that join you in the task. “What would you have done if you caught your third husband eating out another woman?”

“And did he say shoot him?” asked Robby. He was bent over the same leg as you, your heads so close you were either gonna head butt or kiss. Not likely over the state of her leg.

“No, he didn't say anything, he just arrested me!”

Robby hummed, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Imagine that.”

“You know Myrna sometimes I can't tell if all these stories are true,” you said, taking a small bit of glass and adding it to the pile you'd already created.

“Oh they're all true, honey, I never lie. Unlike Mark that two faced bastard.”

“Which one was Mark?” you asked.

“The fourth husband. Good body and shit everything else!” she said with a wheeze. Abruptly she grabbed your hand. “Are you single?”

Robby glanced up at you, creases of amusement at the corner of his eyes.

You looked away first. “Why, you asking me out?”

“If you're single, stay single!” she said. “Men, all they are are liars! Lying bastards! And babies! I hardly even shot the guy!”

“Am I so bad, Doctor?” asked Robby looking over the frames of his glasses at you.

Was he so bad? No. He was short-tempered sometimes, moody, didn't accept help from anyone. But you knew he could be gentle, you knew his true belly laugh and the smile he gave at mornings when you were still in bed. You just wish you knew if he ever saw himself staying in that bed a little longer, if he ever wanted to make breakfast and take the day together, stealing moments throughout.

“No,” you said, looking back down to her leg that was almost clean. “You're not.”

Myrna was oddly silent but you could see her head moving between the two of you. “Don't go there sweetheart,” she said, a word of warning. “This one might look fun but he's all danger and heartbreak.”

“Me? No,” said Robby with an air of un-care. “I'm a teddy bear.”

Five minutes later you and Robby were instructing Perlah wrapping her leg before throwing off your gloves and leaving her to it.

“How many husbands you think Myrna had?” he asked.

“Oh there's no telling,” you replied, fetching her chart to finish off the notes. At some point someone had put a star next to her name, as if she was VIP.

Robby leant next to you, scanning around the ED. “Any plans tonight?”

“On a Wednesday? Nop.”

“Wanna come over?”

There was an abrupt and loud clear of a throat.

You hadn't realised Whitaker was there but he was watching the two of you, closely. When you met his eyes he gave a small subtle shake of his head.

Robby looked. “You got a cough, Whitaker?”

He cleared his throat, sliding down in his chair. “No.”

The agreement. It was all fine in practise but how were you supposed to say no when you just said you had no plans and you really wanted to have sex with him! It was the glasses, you were sure that was what did it. The way he pulled them on and pulled them off, the focus it gave him and the way they slipped down his nose.

“So, tonight?” he asked again, voice low.

Only a few people knew, like your room-mates and you were sure others had guessed. Robby wanted to keep it private. Or a secret, you'd never asked for clarification.

You caught Whitakers gaze on yours, watchful. He didn't say anything but you wondered if he'd be disappointed. Would you even be disappointed in yourself? “I can't tonight.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Okay.”

He didn't sound annoyed. He didn't sound anything. It was impossible to tell.

“Yeah, we just- there's this thing-”

“Thought you had no plans?” he asked, an almost amused rise in his brows.

Ah. “It's like- not a plan- just a- a room mate thing. You know?”

Robby looked to Whitaker as if to confirm.

He nodded. “Yeah! Every Wednesday. We watch films.”

“Films,” you confirm.

“And talk.”

“We talk.”

Robby nodded. “Sounds thrilling.”

“Robby!” Dana called. “Got a trauma, woman in her thirties. Five minutes.”

“Got it," he said but he was still slumping over the counter. He took his time moving, stretching up till his shirt rode up enough to expose that slither of skin that held so many promises. “Some other time then.” His hand ghosted the small of your back before he disappeared.

You watched him go, realising you wouldn't spend the night buried in his bored but sleepless and restless.

Whitaker replaced Robby at your side. “See? Doesn't that feel good?”

You answered truthfully. “No.”

That night you, Santos and Whitaker sulked on the sofa, face masks over your faces with a bowl of popcorn left on the table and a shitty movie filling the silence.

Your phone lay face up with nothing from Robby and from Trinity's expression you figured she'd had nothing either.

You'd been to the bathroom once, took your phone with you and debated texting him but you never got that far. You only flicked through texts, casual one's at first. Small 'Are you coming over?' or 'You left your shirt at mine.' There were some dotted from him, on times you were both too busy to meet where things got more... riskier. His texts started simple but you could always catch on to his wants, leading his want.

Things like 'Thought about you today,' or 'you looked good today,' but he never just complimented you for the sake of it.

The texts didn't help so you turned your phone off and re-joined the two all the while your head and heart were in bed with Robby.

The next day passed like another dry spell.

It was busy- too make up for the quiet day beforehand. You didn't have time to greet Robby before being thrown into the chaos from a pile up on the highway. All day your bodies shuffled past each other, his hands lingering on your arms when he passed or always standing next to you in trauma.

It felt something like punishment.

Or a test.

By Friday you were crawling out of your skin, still dealing with the ramifications of the last two days. You hadn't even seen that Robby had text you the night before, so exhausted from work you crashed only spotting his name on your phone the morning you woke from the blare of your alarm.

“You're avoiding me,” he said, kneeling at the computer you typed furiously at to get your charting down. It was a casual move he used, usually un-tying and re-tying his shoes. This time, he simply knelt, seemingly done with pretence.

“What? No.”

“I've barely seen you the last few days," he said, wetting his lips. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, I've just been super busy,” you said, tapping on the computer.

Robby shuffled next to you. His hand laid next to yours. He didn't take your hand or stop you but his fingers fidgeted like he didn't know what else to do with himself. “Did I do something?”

You looked down at him, spotting the crease between his brows. “No.”

It was the closest you'd got to seeing him vulnerable.

“So tonight?” he asked. “Feel like I'm losing my damn mind.” His finger was light as it traced your hand, slowly drawing circles.

Tasting Robby was like the first sip of alcohol. It always left you wanting me. Sweet. Bitter. Whatever. You were just left wanting and nothing else, which was why you went crawling back every time. Why saying no had never crosse your mind before. Why the smallest touch from his hand was leaving you in shivers.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can't tonight-”

Robby smirked, breathing out a puff of air.

“I would,” you said quickly, turning in your chair to face him. “Believe me, I would, it's just... Trinity is going through some stuff and I just- I don't want to leave her alone, you know.”

It was the truth. Trinity was taking Garcia's silence worse than you or Dennis had anticipated. You knew there was more going on, you only wanted to be there to help her.

Robby perked. “You need me to speak to her?”

“No, no, it's just stuff. She'll be okay I just, want to be safe.”

He nodded but his finger fell from your hand. “Okay.”

“Doctor Robinavitch!” his name was called by the familiar dread of Gloria.

He sighed under his breath as he pushed himself up. “Oh so help me, God.”

By Saturday you were sure Robby thought you were lying and sort out to punish you. He was practically glued at your side all day long. He didn't ask to see you, didn't put his lips near you. But he lingered.

“Okay we don't have a lot of time, there's a lot of bleeding,” said Robby in the face of a trauma, looming over you. “We'll do a Hilar flip.”

“A Hilar flip, are you serious?” said Trinity.

“No other choice.”

You gulped, staring down at the bleeding and misplaced lung. “I've never done one of them before.”

“I'll talk you through it, we'll go easy,” he said, coming at your side. “You're gonna rotate the lung one-eighty, very slow. Very gentle.”

Perhaps it shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. The way his chest heaved against your back, his arm stretching along yours to hold your hand and guide it through the blood to his lung. His face was concentrated next to yours but his breath was hot on your cheek and breathless.

“Go slow.... go slow. Easy.... gentle.... just like that, there we go,” he uttered against your ear.

“Blood loss is slowing down.”

“There we go, you got it,” he mumbled as you slotted it back into its place. “Okay-” Robby moved on like your whole body wasn't trembling. You had to carry on trying to save the guys life after it, like you weren't picturing his entire body draped over yours, whispering filthy things in your ears.

“Thought I was watching a porno there,” said Santos as you all fled the room when the guy was stable.

“Jesus-” you caught your breath, throwing off the gloves and running your hands through your hair, trying to get some air to your neck that sweat.

Santos chuckled to herself. “So does Doctor Robby talk you through it?”

“Trin-” you snap.

“Does he praise you? Is that the kind of thing you're into.”

You didn't respond, hiding in the bathroom to throw cold water onto your face and calm the rush of blood but you could hear Santos outside the door. 'This is a teaching hospital!' she teased.

It became a thing you had to do, get away from him. You couldn't be distracted when dealing with patients. It was bad enough working with him when all you could think about was fucking him!

But Robby seemed to insist in helping you.

“Gaping wounds like this, under the skin we use sub-Q to bring it together,” he instructed as started the stitching for a mans wound on his leg. It was just like anything else, hardly a teaching wound when you knew how to do it. As it was under tissue and there was just no other nurse around Robby insisted.

“Five-O under skin, three-O after that,” he said.

“You think you could show me?”

You both knew you didn't need to be shown but Robby still gave you a small smile and sat on the stall, coming close to you till his meaty thigh was against your own. His hands- though gloved as yours were- still grazed yours as he took the instruments to do it.

“Guide it through... it's finer so you want to extra gentle... lotta care...”

You hummed but you couldn't say you were watching it with keen eyes. You weren't watching the way the stitches came together just the way his hands flexed, his fingers moved.

“Start deep... all the way in... bury the knot in... yeah, see how it comes together just like that?”

You nodded with an absent mind.

Robby held the equipment out to you. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. Maybe you should have paid more attention.

He all but shoved them into your hand. “You're a big girl, you got it.”

Santos's voice played it your head. Were you into this?

With a breath you steadied yourself and went in. As he had before Robby leant over you, his body practically weighing you down.

You took the thread under the skin, pulling together just like he had.

“Bit deeper-” Robby's hands guided your arms. They were as light as a feather at your elbows before slowly sliding down your arms with a firmer hold, leading the threads.

You remembered his tight hold on you when he wanted you in place on the bed, when he was was dragging clothes off your body or wrapping a hand around your neck-

Robby called your name, watching you expectantly. His eyes were softened at the edges but they grew darker, the smallest bit of a smirk at the corner of his lips. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Right... sorry-” you went as deep as he instructed, knowing his face was concentrated on you and your hands.

“Do you want me to leave?” asked the patient.

If he could leave his leg and leave it would've been great.

“We'll get you out of here in no time,” said Robby.

You'd thought that maybe the stitching at taken so long it was almost time to leave. Maybe you could talk to Whitaker and Santos about this hard to get thing. It was only eleven and you had more than six hours left with situations that constantly brought you and Robby together. Even when it didn't, there he was, whispering words of encouragement.

“You got this... nice and easy.... doing really good there...”

Or the simple phrase that had you hiding in the bathroom for five minutes.

“Good girl.”

When the end of the day came you ran out of there, gasping in air and rushing back back to your place.

“Hey,” you greeted walking through the door.

Trinity was already there, looking like she was ready to leave, jacket thrown over her scrubs she hadn't changed out of even though she finished an hour before you. “Hey.”

“Where's Huckleberry?”

“Oh he's at Amy's tonight.”

You scoffed. “Woah. What a speech about doing better and playing hard to get but as soon as the chance comes to play farm. So, movie tonight? I can order pizza?”

“Actually, I'm just on my way out too,” she said. “Garcia called.”

You slumped. Your entire body slumped. Your heart gave up. “What? I thought we all made a deal?”

“We did, I played hard to get now she wants to see me,” she said.

“I haven't seen Robby in three days!”

“So go to his, get dicked down, girl,” she said, moving past you with a breeze. “I'm sorry, we can talk about how much of a bitch I am when I'm back from having the best sex yet! Later!”

She was out the door before you could chastise her. You shut it after her, falling upon it.

You'd ran from the ED to stay strong, to avoid another interaction with Robby that would have you climbing his bones in an empty room. You'd happily have done it with the teasing he'd subjected you to all day. For your friends and the promise you'd made you remained strong.

You'd never do that again.

Saturday night after the longest shift of your life and you had the place to yourself. It was rare. Either Denis or Trinity were home or you were spending the night at Robby's.

Your phone was heavy in your pocket.

Call him.

But the problem still lied un-answered. You were still at Robby's beck and call, begging for his attention. Begging him to be hard thinking about you so he could fuck you into the mattress to be professional the net day and treat you like you were just another MR.

You didn't want special treatment so to say, didn't want him to give you the easy patients or get you into the traumas more. You just wanted a smile, or a glimpse of .... love.

Maybe your friends were okay with what they had. You weren't.

You turned your phone off for the night and stripped from your scrubs, changing into a large shirt and blasting music Trin hated and Denis claimed to hate (but you'd heard him playing your playlist in the shower). For a crazy night alone you caught up on washing several pairs of scrubs and anything else, cleaned out the freezer leaving you barren of anything to eat. Maybe you'd even iron some normal clothes-

That's at least what you were thinking when there was a knock at the door.

You'd hoped it was Denis or Trin coming back, tails between their legs, keys forgotten.

Robby stood on the other side of the door.

You stood, frozen, shocked to see him there. He was just as still, waiting with raised brows. “Doctor Robby. Is everything okay?”

His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his scrubs only slightly dirtied from the day. But his eyes were alive and his body didn't sag with exhaustion like usual. His eyes darted back behind you. “Can I come in?”

You held open the door, closing it slowly behind you.

Robby had only been to your place once before. He looked the open living space open with interest. Typically your meet ups were at his, on account he lived alone and his bed was much nicer to be down on than yours.

“Er- Whitaker and Santos aren't home, if- if this is a hospital thing.”

“It's not,” he said, lowering his bag at the sofa.

“Oh?”

He turned, leaning against the back of it. “It's a me and you thing.”

“Oh.”

His arms flexed as he folded them over his chest, the green of his top under his scrub bunched at the forearms. His head ducked, trying to get a read on you. “So?”

You rocked on your heels, realising the shortened of the shirt you wore. Not that it wasn't anything he had seen before. “So...”

“What's going on?” he asked. There was still nothing in his voice to give away his true thoughts, only a slight edge of urgency.

“What-what-what do you mean?”

Robby listed off what he saw was wrong like symptoms. “You've been avoiding me, you never answered my texts, you didn't want to see me the other night nor tonight though you have the place to yourself-”

“I didn't realise they were gone,” you said.

“Okay so every other time?” he asked. “If I did something you can tell me. I'm a big guy, I can take it.”

It was a chance to voice up every ill thought you'd had but all you could think about was how big he was. Standing there, jutted on the back of the couch with his scrubs around his arms and thighs.

“You didn't do anything,” you said, though you weren't looking at his eyes more his arms.

They flexed again like he knew what he was doing. His voice dropped, finally to something you could name. “So tell me. what's going on.”

If you threw yourself at him you knew the chances of him taking you to bed were high, but the chances of you regretting it in the morning when he had rolled out of bed, dressed and left you were higher.

“I just-” you blew out a breath, readying yourself for the dismiss. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”

Robby waited like he was listening to the words re-play. His head lowered as he nodded, taking it in. “May I ask why?”

“It's the casual thing,” you rushed out before you could take it back. “I don't think I can do casual. I thought I could, but I-I can't.”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest and for a moment you thought you really had upset him. But then he straightened up, pushed himself from the sofa and shrugged. His boots thudded heavy as he stepped to you slow. “Okay then.”

Was this the moment when you got the door for him on the way out?

“Okay, so... um.... I guess I'll see you-”

Robby's hands grasped your cheeks and he kissed you quick, hard. His lips tasted as they always did with a hint of mint-freshness. They were rough as always as they worked against yours, opening you up to him as always-

You brushed away, shaking your head. “I um- Robby I can't-”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. He stepped closer to you, the heat of his body waving over you. “We don't have to be casual anymore, I don't want to be casual- not anymore.”

Everyone knew Robby only knew casual. Only selected few ever got past seven weeks. Heck you hadn't counted how long this had been going on for, maybe ten weeks but that could be nothing. You were good sex, that was all.

“Robby-”

“Listen, listen-” he said, arms waving around you before settling on your forearms. “You don't want casual, neither do I. You want me to ask? You want me to ask you to be my girlfriend, I'll ask.”

“Robby you don't date,” you tried to tell him.

He scoffed. “I date. But not anymore, not if I have you.”

Had word of the deal got out? Was Robby just tired after his shift? Delusional?

“Hey, hey-" his hands ran through your hair, cradling your cheeks. “I should've said it earlier, I know but I want this. I want serious.”

His eyes crinkled as he looked at you, the edges of his gaze soft. “You don't just have to say this. You can have anyone else-”

Robby's head ducked into the crook of your neck, brushing your hair back and pressing light kisses to the expanse of your neck. “I don't want anyone else, I want you.”

Your body awakened in shivers that he elicited.

His fingers wound to the front of your body, slowly peeling away the buttons of the shirt till it pooled at your ankles. He didn't move to ravage you, his lips remained light as they kissed down your neck, finding your collarbone and working a mark there.

Your hands wound up his arms, clutching at his shoulders. “Robby-”

“Not this time,” he uttered against your collarbone.

You knew what you called him when it was you and him. “Michael-”

“Good girl.”

You moaned out at the words, the moan you'd held all day revibrating around your flat.

He slowly kicked odd his boots and helped you throw off his scrub top before he kissed you again.

You only got a short glimpse at the body you craved before his tongue, hot and heavy, slid into you mouth, bathing in the warmth. His hands were rough as they studied every inch of your body, fingertips digging into skin.

“I want you, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your lips as you scaled your hands under his shirt and along his stomach till your fingers skimmed under his waistband.

His mouth opened against yours, groaning at this slightest touch. “Oh-”

His arms scooped you up, bringing your body up and flush against him as his arms were strong on your back, kissing you. It was all wet tongue and soft lips as he stumbled back on the edge of your couch.

“Santos will kill me if we have sex on our couch,” you gasped.

Robby rose a brow. “Oh, we're having sex?” he teased.

“I should hope so.”

You kissed you hard again, wetting the both of your mouths in delectable smacks of your lips. The two of you stumbled away to your room and his body caged you in as the two of you fell atop your sheets.

You crawled up the bed as Robby's face fell between your chest. His tongue made wet paths from each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth and his hand groping at the other one till you withered against his body.

“Michael-”

He moaned into your breast and shoved a meaty thigh between your legs. “Grind on me,” he demanded.

Your body did against him as if it only listened to his command.

He mouthed your other breast, groping where his tongue had pressed before. All the while you body moved against his thigh, dragging your pussy against him.

“Yeah.... jus' like that... god.... can feel you.... so good,” he uttered as he jutted his thigh against you.

Your hands went to his shoulders, messaging the skin there until he came back up your body and shoved his tongue down your throat again. Your arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him into you.

All the while you wet down his scrubs.

“You want serious?” he uttered against you, pulling back enough to see you.

You nodded, hair splayed over your pillow.

Robby nodded along, eyes hooded. His hand slid down between your bodies. “I can do serious.”

His finger slid into you, working in and out in slow thrusts. But even the meassured curl of his finger had you holding him, back arching from the bed.

“Mmph-”

“Don't be quiet,” he said, nuzzling his head in you neck, biting the skin there. “Don't do that.”

Another finger curled in and you moaned on. You weren't quiet usually, there was nothing more than Robby liked than being loud. Everything was measured in the ED, out of it, buried inside of you or hot mouths on each other had Robby groaning, moaning and wanting you to do the same.

His fingers thrusted knuckle deep in and out again, the soft moving of skin moving around the room as your breaths covered the sound.

His fingers moved quick as your breaths grew laboured. He sucked the skin of your neck, thrusting and curling as his hips sort some sort of friction.

You withered against him. “I'm gonna- Michael I'm gonna-”

He released your skin with a small bite and laid his mouth open on yours. “Cum,” he uttered.

“Michael-”

His voice turned harder, the hand that wasn't inside of you wrapping around your neck, pushing you into your bed. “Cum.”

With just the right curl Robby had your pussy in the palm of his hand, slick with your release as he worked you through it, rubbing his hand along your clit with jolts of your body.

“God so good,” he said, looking up at you as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on your bodies. “And all mine?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat of your body as strong as it was when he walked in.

“All mine, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless.

Robby slowly took out his fingers from you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean like it was nothing. He fell back on his feet, fingers working on the ties of his scrubs. “That why you were avoiding me?”

“I wasn't-” your words died in your throat as he dropped his scrubs and boxers in one.

You'd seen his cock enough to know it by memory but the size and fullness of him always rendered you speechless.

Robby knew it to. He stood there with a smirk. “You weren't avoiding me?”

Slowly, he sank to his knees.

“No,” you said, mesmerised by the sight of him going down.

Robby's hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them. He tapped your ankles, getting them on the bed as he got closer to your heat, still leaking from the last orgasm. “Promise?”

The words had hardly left your lips before his tongue pressed into you.

Your entire body moved into his but his arms wrapped around your hips, keeping you pressed into the bed. He moved further up, burying himself in you.

“Aw- fuck-” your hands waved for purchase before curling into the sheets.

He licked a stripe up and down before nudging your lips open and finding himself in there. It wasn't the slow drag of fingers but the desperate kisses and licks of a man hungry. He pulled back, spitting against you. “You won't avoid me again, will you baby?”

You shook your head.

Robby's eyes remained on yours until he buried himself in your pussy. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned into you.

His hands kept you spread open every time they quivered but it didn't take long for his hand to wind down to his cock. You prepped yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he pumped his cock agonizingly slow.

“Want your cock, Robby-”

He halted his movements and you but down on your lip.

“What did you just call me?” he asked, slowly moving up your body.

You knew you were supposed to call him Michael but watching the full swing of his cock stand to attention as he made his way over you was far too distracting.

“Hey-v his hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up. “Michael.”

You nodded. Your hands reached for his cock, straining to wrap around him.

The only notice of the effect you had was the clench of his jaw.

“Michael,” he repeated, voice almost a growl.

“Michael.”

He nodded.

“Condom?” he asked, jutting back on his heels.

Your hand slowly worked his cock, the pre-cum beading at the tip. You shook your head. You were both clean, you were on the pill but tonight you wanted to feel everything, wanted him to even fill you-

Robby bent his head, spitting down on his cock and your hand. For a moment that's all it was, you hand moving on his cock as your other circled your clit. “God... your hand.... missed you...”

When your strokes got heavier, faster Robby's head fell back and he groaned. His cock was pink, heavy in your hand-

Quickly he grabbed your wrist and threw it off before grabbing the hilt of his own cock and slowly pushing into you.

His throat strained as he groaned at the push in and your back arched into him. “Fuck!” he fell atop you, arms braced at either side. “Shit- ah-”

Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping you in.

“God, you make me crazy,” he uttered, searching for your lips.

The two of you collided in a mess of salvia, tongue, lips as he pushed into you, catching your gasps.

Eventually the rock of his hips grew steady. The creak of your old bed echoed the moves of him against you.

“Shit- ah-” he groaned, shaking off the sweat and the tension.

“Michael,” you said, holding him in closer. “I want you to... go hard.”

Hard he could do. Soft he could do. He would do anything you asked.

His tongue darted out, swiping your lips. “You missed me?”

“So much, so much, so much,” you pulled him down till his weight tested yours, cock deep. “On me.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself. He put all his weight down, crashing your body into his bed. He wasn't as young as he once was. By no means but if you wanted it, he'd give it.

Pressed into you his cock went far and deep and he couldn't fully withdraw so it was small, maddening movements.

“Oh god,” he uttered.

You moaned, loud, as he wanted and he was breathless, groaning.

The dull thump of your headboard banged on the wall and something on your bedside table fell off.

Robby's arm stretched out, grabbing your hand and stretching your arms to the headboard, trying to steady it. With the stretch of the bodies he reached that spot in you.

“Aw fuck!” You yelled out, louder than anticipated. “Michael I'm gonna- I'm gonna-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he grunted with you. His other hand threw to your hip, holding your pelvis flush into you. “Fuck!”

In seconds he let go inside of you and the gush of his cum and the sound of the wet bodies threw you over the edge. His clutch on your hand grew tighter as his body trembled with yours, the spurts of your releases cooling down.

If this was casual Robby wouldn't have lingered, he'd have pulled out, flashed you a smile before using the bathroom.

He moved slower, staying till the both of you were spent. He kissed you, soft and sweet, lips moving around to remember the taste. “I'll move out,” he whispered as he took out his cock.

You stole a glance of both of your release leaking from you and around him before Robby moved aside.

He didn't flee, he didn't go to the bathroom. He pulled the sheets from under your bodies and got the both of you into bed. He laid beside you.

Robby tucked you under his arm, sweat on both your bodies cooling as you laid together. “Feels better when we're serious.” His fingers moved slow on your shoulder, delicate touches like a feather.

If he woke with a new thought, woke with regret you'd deal with it. For the moment you allowed yourself to feel the thump of his heart as the two of you slowly lulled to sleep.

Your alarm was the first thing you picked up in the morning. It's beeping ringing in your ear as you moved to turn the thing off or throw it at the wall-

A weight over your stomach made the effort harder but you got it.

Last night came back to you in the spill of scrubs on the floor and the ache between your legs.

Robby stirred next to you. Last night.

He stayed.

“You on today?” he asked, morning voice rough. You got a look at him, it was a rare sight you got to see him in morning light. His eyes were still shut, his face without the stress the day job gave him. He asked so casual, as if this was a morning routine you'd slipped into years ago.

You hummed, nodding and readying to move-

His arm tightened, drawing you in. “Call in sick.”

You chuckled, but your eyes closed. You promised yourself five more minutes. “My attending might have something to say about that.”

Robby grumbled. “Have a word with him, I'm sure you can be very persuasive.”

Somewhere in you apartment you heard the front door open and close, voices moving around the place.

You hadn't closed the door.

“Hey! We brought coffee and bagels!” called Santos.

“We're sorry for leaving you- we- huh?” you heard Whitaker. “What the?”

The clothes on the floor. The scrub top that would have his doctors badge on it.

You groaned and suddenly Whitaker and Santos were passing the doorway, one smirking, the other shocked.

Robby beside you didn't even stir.

“Good morning, Doctor Robby!” called Santos.

He only lifted a hand in greeting before making sure the covers were over the two of you.

You reached for something heavy, landing on a cushion and aiming at the door. It closed in front of your laughing friends.

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

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

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

You nodded.

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

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

“Noelle. She's from insurance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, just trying to be helpful.”

“Save it for the patients,” you said.

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

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

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

“Do what? See a patient?”

“It's not what you think,” he said.

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

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

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

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

Yet, you did none of that.

Robby and you didn't talk.

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

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

“It's not,” said Robby again.

“Of course it's not.”

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

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

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

“Don't,” you warn, shaking your head.

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

“You wanna argue, not here,” he said.

“I don't want to argue.”

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

“Tell you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once, Robby was silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you weren't.

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

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

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

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

“- I- we... honey, please.”

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

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

“Hey! You two!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it!”

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

A steady, firm hand settled between your shoulder blades.

“How you holding on, Slugger?”

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

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

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

“Lost three,” you told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Robby had never been so close to murder.

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

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

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

He was a strong man. You weren't.

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

The man was mumbling to himself, thrashing violently.

“C'mon Jack, c'mon-”

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

You must have been busy down there.

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

So where the hell were you?

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

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

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

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

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

“Robby!” Jack yelled out.

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

“What happened? You fall in-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ran out?!”

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

Robby shook her off. “What's open?”

“Trauma two just got cleaned up-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Others in the room stopped, hearing that.

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

He'd failed.

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

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

“Robby!” Jack tried again.

“Shut up and get me some warm saline!”

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

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

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

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

Jack looked at Robby. “Brother.”

“No.”

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

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

“Robby, man, you gotta let go.”

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

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

“I can't!” he yelled.

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

No, Robby could never let you go.

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

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

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

A monitor somewhere in the room beeped.

Slowly, Robby moved from your chest.

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

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

“What's her temp?” asked Jack.

“Eighty.”

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

“We're getting her warmed up.”

“Get the warm saline.”

“We are.”

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

“Doctor Robby-”

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

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

His head jerked up.

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

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

He was shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There! Resume compressions!”

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

Robby looked up, tear stained cheeks red.

“Yeah, kid,” said Dana, sadly.

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

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

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

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

“Hold compressions.”

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

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

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

Jack lowered his head. “Robby.”

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

Matteo jumped at the chance.

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

Robby glanced back at him. “She will.”

“And even if she did-”

Robby cut him off. “She will.”

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

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

“What's her temp?”

“We're up to eighty-eight.”

“When was our last epi?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Push again.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Get an APG,” said Santos.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Tell her now.”

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

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

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

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

Robby's hot tears hit your cheeks.

“Temp?”

“Up to neinty.”

“Halt compressions.”

Santos paused.

Nothing.

Then a shrill beeping.

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

“She's in V-fib again!”

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

“Charge to three hundred- clear!”

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

“Again, charge. Clear!”

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

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

Jack looked at Robby.

“No,” he said, pushing past everyone.

“Robby-” interjected Jack.

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

“-Robby-”

“I said charge again!”

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

“Clear!”

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

“Wait- there!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tried to. They felt heavy. Sleep heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The seizing, the patient.”

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

“What?”

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

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

It had felt like dying.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your chest, pain blooming.

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

You squeezed his hand. “We?”

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

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

“Robby.... hey....”

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

“Hey,” you cooed.

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

“It's okay.”

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

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

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

Robby's voice broke.

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

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

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

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

“No,” said Robby. “Never.”

Something sour tasted it your mouth.

“Because we- are we, broken up?”

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

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

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

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

“You can hold my hand.”

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

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

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

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

“Robby.”

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You tugged at his arm, pulling him down.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.”

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

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

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

Robby said your name in a whisper.

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

“I...”

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

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

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

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

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

“Robby-” you interjected.

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

“I can think of a few ways.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded.

“I love you.”

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

Two diagnosis were switched up so a poor old man thought he was dying a lot sooner than he was. Jack smoothed that one out.

And a man with heart palpations just couldn't leave his cat so had to bring him in and Gloria just had to come down at that same time.

So you were ready to crash when there was a knock on the door.

Something you learnt living in Robby's space was the lack of visitors he had. You'd bumped into Mrs Hathaway who lived two doors down and had a bad habit of smoking a pack a day and carried the smell with her and explained that Robby was away so you were looking after his one house plant and bringing in his male.

But Mrs Hathaway never came around.

You wondered if you'd been so tired you'd called yourself a take-away and forgot as you looked through the peep hole.

Long grey hair and stormy eyes looked back at you. A denim vest and tattoos standing out against the canvas of skin. Before you wouldn't have known the guy; would've debated crashing Robby's peace to ask who this guy was but now he was a frequent flyer at PTMC.

“Hey, Duke,” you greeted, holding the door open.

Duke grinned and went in for a hug. “Hey.”

He smelt like bike oil and leather but you patted his back. You didn't know if he was deep down an affectionate guy or if it was the diagnosis but every time he visited the hospital for check ups or meds for his pain who was asking for particular nurses and buying up their time with idle chatter.

Nobody seemed to mind.

“Robby's still not back,” you said, pulling away and following him into Robby's place.

“Oh yeah, I know, just needed to pick up some tools I left here,” he said.

You watched him move around, flicking on lights as he went that you hadn't had the chance to turn on yet. He moved around Robby's place like he knew every nook and cranny. Maybe he did. Slowly, you were learning Robby had a life outside of the Pitt.

“So, how's the bachelor pad treating you?” Duke called as he wondered around the space.

“It's nice, it's good,” you said, following behind a pace or two and just hoping the tools weren't in Robby's room. Then he might see your bag you'd slowly let spill out over the place and a coffee mug you'd left from this morning. He might see the rumpled sheets and thrown over cover and realise you were sleeping in your bosses bed and not the provided spare room.

The guest room bed hadn't been made and you'd been so tired coming back that you'd just crashed in his bed, for one night. You were going to clean the sheets but then his bed was so comfortable you struggled even getting up in the morning.

It felt like an embrace from him.

“The wi-fi playing up or anything?” he asked, searching through kitchen cupboards.

“No, it's been fine.”

“Been eating? Punk has a good kitchen.”

“Did Robby ask you to check on me, or something?” you asked, hoping Robby didn't think he'd made a mistake in asking you to house sit. His one plant was very well cared for and mail organised by what you think required his upmost attention first. You'd even kept a pile of junk mail just in case he was particular in the sort he got rid of.

“No,” Duke chuckled. “I just know I'll get bonus points if I check in on you.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that there was a triumphant cheer as he started to pull out so many tools and a tool box you wondered if he was robbing Robby.

“Did Robby tell you he has a parking spot reserved out front? Parking can be a bitch here.”

“Oh, I don't drive I catch the bus.”

“He tell you about the camera's.”

The sleep that had been invading your every sense ebbed away. “Cameras?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Around the place. Installed them a couple months back.”

Cameras. All around the place.

You searched high around in places you'd never thought to scrutinise before. There, looming like a bird of prey in the corner of the kitchen was what could be assumed a camera. It was just a black dot to you with the high ceilings but when you glanced over at the living area there was a better view of the camera sat in the corner, aimed right where you stood at the kitchen island.

Cameras. About the place. The place you'd been living for weeks.

You'd been sleeping in Robby's bed, you'd been flaunting around in your shirt and nothing else. You had Trinity around to eat pizza and drink wine in your bras. You'd looked through Robby's stuff, you'd-

You'd done un-speakable things to yourself in that bed.

Were they a security measure? Did the tapes end up anywhere? And if they did, could you find them and burn them.

“The camera's,” said Duke, standing with tool box full in hand. “He mentioned them right.”

No. Robby hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. Hadn't even let onto the fact you might want to be on your guard. He'd welcomed you into his place, told you to treat it like yours while he was gone.

“Oh, yeah, cameras. He-he told me about the camera's,” you lied, gulping down the truth.

What if you said no he hadn't and it was written all over your face that you were guilty of.... of something. What if Duke thought it was Robby's fault? He was probably just tired, or forgot they were even there.

“Yeah, took us ages to get up. We were no good at it, you know, old men and technology,” he said, heading toward the door already.

“Yeah, yeah... totally.”

“Okay, see ya soon, doc!”

“You too, Duke.” As distracted as you were, Duke let himself out. The door closed and you were left alone with the cameras.

Maybe they weren't working all the time. Maybe, since Robby knew it was just you and he could trust you he'd turned off the cameras. Maybe he really had just forgot they were there and no longer used them.

Maybe's chased you into Robby's ensuite, sat you down on the of the counter. You scanned the corners subtly in case you were being watched but found only clean tiles and sterile walls. Safe.

As for the rest of the place, you dreaded to think.

You had almost forgot all about the cameras again. The first night you slept stiff, still un-able to drag yourself from the comfort of Robby's bed but you found the camera, tucked away in a corner. You'd watched for a flashing light but found none, so did that not mean it was off?

You thought about texting Robby, asking him about the cameras but you looked back at the last texts. He'd sent you a picture of a lake he was at, said it was peaceful, said he was enjoying his time. You didn't want to freak him out or accuse him of anything.

You knew the kind of guy Robby was. If he remembered the cameras, he'd tell you.

Moving on from that catastrophe was easy when you worked in the ED. Disasters came in and managed your time. You'd thought about asking Jack when you saw him at hand off but smiled him off.

Days later you were forgetting all about it.

“I mean, I've heard some pretty crazy stories before but a carrot, up the butt,” Trinity chuckled down the phone.

“Is it bad it's not even the first I've seen,” you said. “I had someone with a cucumber up there once.”

Santos hummed on the other end of the phone. “I get it, longer, smoother.”

You had been chopping up a carrot to make a ragu and thought different of it, putting it aside and forging any vegetable that could be seen as phallic. “You're disgusting.”

“Say that to the patient with half a carrot stuck up there.”

A quick sear of pain made you jump as beads of blood found its way down to Robby's chopping board and the onion you'd been slicing.

“Oh shit-”

“What happened? Found Robby's Viagra?” she said down the other line.

“Hilarious,” you grit out. Without thinking you grabbed the tea towel and wrapped it around your hand, holding it up high. You cursed quietly again when you realised you'd just ruined one of his. “I just, er, dropped one of Robby's glasses, I gotta go, I'll call you back.”

You wedged your wrapped up hand into your chest and ended the call.

Being a doctor yourself you knew you could handle a cut, blood, a gash. Peeling it away and dabbing at the edges you found the wound, a clean cut, not too deep. Stitches, maybe.

If you kept it wrapped up you could just leave it till the morning for your shift-

Your phone rang again and you answered without looking. Most calls logged in your phone were Trinity anyway. “No, I have not seen a banana in a vagina.”

“Well hello to you too,” said a striking and familiar deep rumble of a voice.

“Robby. Hey, sorry I-I thought you were Santos.”

He chuckled but it was curt. “Exciting day in work?”

“Yeah-yeah, you could say that,” you put down your phone on speaker and re-wrapped your hand. “So what's up? What's with the call?”

“I just wanted to... check in, it's been a while.”

You squeezed your hand, trying to stop the bleeding. “Everything's fine. All fine. Place is still standing.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's good, that's good,” he said with hesitation. “How are you? Staying safe, no-no accidents around the place I hope. Sometimes that place is a death trap. Door can stick... and- and my knives can be... sharp.”

Suddenly you realised.

The camera's.

Robby hadn't called you while he'd been away. He'd text only oddly to see how things were or send pictures of where he was- that was a new development.

He'd texted you about the temp playing up in his shower after you made one too hot and had to lie bare on is bed with his fan on you.

He'd texted that he had extra blankets if you were cold when you were wrapped up in his dressing gown.

He knew about the camera's.

Robby had seen. Everything.

“Still there?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry just- funny you should bring up the knives, I just had a little accident.”

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

You tried not to eye the camera's. “Just a small cut.”

“You wouldn't lie to me would you?” he asked, a dark tint to his voice.

You didn't know what worried you more. The fact he was watching you close enough to see and call you, or the fact the thought didn't creep you out as you supposed it should. “How would you feel if I bloodied one of your tea towels.”

“Relieved, as long as you get your cut looked at.”

“And if I got blood on a chopping board.”

“Chopping board- bit of wood, I can get some more wood up here.”

“And how is your trip?”

Robby chuckled. “Oh no, no, no you're not distracting me from this. Got to the ER.”

“It's not that deep.”

“It loo-”

For a moment you were both silent, knowing what he was going to say. It looks bad. You felt burning in the back of your skull as you felt the camera's around you like his own gaze when he was watching your procedures in the ED.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said with a clear of his throat.

“I'll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, I've already texted Jack letting him know you're on your way in so you don't want to disappoint him do you. Or me. Do you, huh?”

You hoped the camera's didn't pick up on the blush rising to your cheeks. “No, I do not, Doctor Robby.”

He hummed. “Good girl.”

Your breath caught in your throat and the sudden thump of pain in your hand moved somewhere lower. Was it normal to feel aroused by the idea of being watched, with a cut bloody hand and your boss down the line.

“I guess I better get going, I don't want to disappoint.”

“No you don't.”

“So, I should go.”

“You should.”

He did not hang up and neither did you. At least you had the excuse of doing it all one handed.

“Okay, bye then,” you said, biting down on your lip to hide your smile.

“Bye.”

“Speak soon?”

“Yeah, I'll call you.”

Finally you pulled the phone back and declined. You wondered if you could hide away in the bathroom but the camera...

How much time did he spend watching you? Did he just so happen to check in at the same time the knife sliced your palm? Was he watching and had been watching since he left?

Had he watched when you plunged your fingers into your own pussy, spreading your need around... and called his name?

What kind of person did it make you if you wanted him to see that?

You got your hand sorted, stropping into the ED like you were a petulant child. Jack had only laughed at you, all but waiting in a swivel stool and turning around like a James Bond villain just to say: “I've been expecting you.”

However, your hand did need stitches and as the slice was along your palm it made trauma procedures difficult. You were stuck ordering around Ogilvie which was about as fun as it sounded and charting.

There was only small reliefs.

Practically as soon as you got back to Robby's he was dropping you a text or calling you. Usually it was under the pretence of checking on your hand or that he was waiting on an important letter but you knew it wasn't that. He knew exactly when you were home, whether it was overtime or not.

The camera's became hard to ignore but you tried to. You didn't want to freak Robby out by telling him you know about them. You didn't want to scare him off from watching you. Shouldn't it have been the other way around? Shouldn't he know that what he was doing was wrong on so many levels? Borderline, stalker-ish.

Still, one night, one lonely night you were in his bed unable to sleep. You were too busy thinking about Robby and the cameras.

It was hard being single and lonely. You had your own devices but toys were back at yours (Trinity brought you them as a joke birthday present and it turned into an even bigger joke when you opened them up in front of Denis) and you didn't want to bring toys into Robby's room.

Porn videos could get you going. Maybe a smutty book.

But knowing the camera's were there made it all the more easier to slide your fingers in your panties and find your arousal pooling.

Maybe Robby wasn't watching. Maybe he could tell this was a private moment and he shouldn't have been watching. The thought had your fingers stilling over your clit, your mind racing ahead of you. Maybe he didn't look at the camera's... maybe this was you over thinking it all...

Your phone rang on the bedside table and you reached over to get it.

There was a flash of Robby's name so familiar to you know it was like your own phone background.

Your other hand was still down your panties when you answered.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” his voice was gruff, low in his throat like he'd just woken up. “What are you up to?”

So, he was watching.

You smirked to yourself, trying desperately not to look at the camera. “Whyyyy are you asking?”

You heard him shuffle around on the other end. “Dunno, was just bored. Was thinking about you.”

“Oh, really?” trying not to sound too delighted was not your specialty.

“Yeah... seem to be doing that a lot these days.”

“You must miss me, huh?”

“Yeah. I must,” he hummed. “You know, I think you'd like it up here. Heck, I actually think I could've used the company, too.”

You slid a finger through your entrance. You were wet before just thinking about him, his voice low and gruff, the way it fell when talking through a serious procedure made it so you were clenching with every rise and fall of his voice. “If I was there with you who'd look after your place?”

“Hmm, you make a good point,” he said, a small tick to his words. “Speaking of my place, which bed you sleeping in?”

You felt your cheeks tint red as you pushed in another finger, pushing in and out slowly. Did he want to hear you were in his bed, even though he could see that you were? You toyed with him a little. It seemed only fair. “Why? Didn't you say I could pick either?”

“I'm just curious. Tell me.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled the smell of him that still lingered around his bed, clouding the edges of your mind in desire. “Yours.”

He chuckled. “Mine, huh?”

“Yeah. It's got the ensuite. It's bigger. It's comfy,” you said. You moved your fingers around your clit, drawing small circles and stretching your legs wider. You had some decency, let it be known, you were under the covers with an old and tattered T-shirt but you were sure it wasn't hard to tell what you were getting up to under there.

“Comfy, you think so?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Smells like you too.”

A breath caught down the line. “Do you like that it smells like me?”

You nodded, growing wetter as your eyes closed. “I do. I can wash it before you get back so it doesn't smell like me.”

“No,” he said, an un-mistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down sat behind his words. “Don't wash them. Don't.”

You smirked to yourself, the circles you were drawing over your nerves growing lazy. “What are you doing, Robby?”

“Nothing,” he said, a teasing lift to his voice and a rustle of clothes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said, sliding your fingers into yourself and out, spreading your arousal as your hole clenched around nothing. You shuffled, getting your shirt to ride higher, but not enough for him to tell.

“Are you doing nothing in my bed?”

“Do you want me to be?”

There was a small but shark intake of breath on the other end. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

You pictured Robby spread out on a sofa in a log cabin somewhere far away. His legs would be spread wide, jeans and boxers pulled down till his cock, hard, was against his stomach. His laptop out at the coffee table, phone to his ear. You wondered if he took things slow? You'd always pictured him the hot and heavy type. His fist wrapped around his cock and pumping, tickling the dark hairs you imagined lived at the base of him.

Your hips jutted up as you pictured him. Hot and heavy. You imagined him next to you in his bed, his coarse hand tracing up your body, finger pinching your nipple.

“What have you been doing... at my place?” he asked, a sudden breathless tone to him. “In my bed.”

You bit back your lip. “Sleeping,” you teased.

Robby groaned, almost a growl. “What-what else?”

“Is there supposed to be something else?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Fuck yes. You pictured him spreading your legs, rubbing his mouth against you with the burn of his beard. Fuck yes. You imagined his cock heavy on your tongue, needy and groaning. Fuck yes. You pumped your fingers in and out and circled your clit imagining the plumpness of his fingers.

“Whatever- whatever you want me to be doing in your bed.” It was a dangerous sort of game you were playing, balancing over the line you weren't crossing with the cameras like it was a tightrope.

“Well... you know what a lonely, old man like me does in that bed, huh?” he said. “You wanna know?”

You nodded and without asking for words he started to tell you, because of course he didn't have to hear your confirmation to see you it.

“After long and hard days, just come home, put the tv on low, maybe some music... drink a beer,” he listed as you impatiently waited for him to get to the exciting parts. Still, his voice was enough to have your legs stretched open, your fingers working yourself open. “Sometimes it's tough to stop thinking about my pretty resident...”

“Hope you're not talking about Whitaker,” you joked.

“You know I'm not, baby,” said Robby with a shaky exhale. “You know I go home... get so hard thinking about you...”

You moaned out a gasp.

“You like me thinking about you?” he asked.

You thought of him spitting down on his cock, slowly rubbing it up and down. Or maybe he had pre-cum enough to lubricate it for him. “I do, I do.”

There was a puff of air on the other side. “You ever think about me?”

Your back arched off the bed as you curled your fingers inside of you. “Yes.”

“You ever think about me in that big lonely bed, my cock hard for you. God, can you picture me and my hands running all over you. Would start at the bottom. Would you be wet for me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Robby, yes, I am,” you gasped out.

There was a light chuckle.

“Oh, you are?” he said with a seethe. Was he teasing the tip of himself? squeezing and thinking about your hand there instead? “You thinking about me, baby?”

“You know I am.”

Robby laughed, the sort one laughed when they knew something you didn't. It was cruel. It was mean. But was it worse you knew and liked it? “Yeahhh, I know you are.”

You tilted your head into his pillow, shifting till you could breathe him in and careful not to drool. “Thinking about- about your tongue,” you said, rubbing your clit with hard pressure, trembling with need.

“My tongue, huh?” he said, a jangle of a belt. Was he pushing away his jeans and spreading his legs further? Were you framed on the counter, between his legs how he wanted you to be? “Are you thinking about my tongue in your needy pussy? Is it making you wet?”

“Yes, yes, Robby. I really want you.”

“Spread your legs for me.”

“They are.”

He grunted. “Wider.”

Almost irritated that he wasn't here, you pushed the cover down till you knew the camera could see all of you. Still clothed. Still clad. But Robby would be able to see your hand down your black panties and how far your legs fell open.

He pretended like he heard the covers move instead of saw it happen. “Fuck... yes, baby.”

“I wish you were here,” you said, eyes kept close to imagine him and to not give the camera a devilish wink. “Wish I- your cock-”

“What about my cock?” he asked, voice strained. “You want it? You want my cock? How'd you want it?”

You circled your fingers around you, jerking at every touch, desperate to come but even more desperate to keep it going. “Want to taste it. Lick it. I- I want to know what you taste like.”

Robby shuddered. It was like you could feel it through the phone and through you. “Shit, you-you can't say things like that, baby.”

“But really want it,” you moaned. “Always wanted it down my throat.”

“Oh fuck, always huh?”

“Always.”

“Well... you've been such a good girl looking after my place for me, haven't you?” he teased. Listening closely, you thought you could hear the sound of skin on skin, the slick squelch of it. His hand working himself, maybe he was even sweating with desire. “Sleeping in my bed, just like I wanted. Living in my space. Bathing in my shower. Maybe I should thank you...”

“Please, please Robby.”

“Ah, oh god,” he strained. “Would lay you out on my bed, clean up all your mess with my tongue. Think you'd have to suck on my fingers to stop all the moaning, I have neighbours, baby-”

You didn't care as you moaned out at that.

“- god I want to fuck you. Oh, I want to fuck you so bad.”

You put your phone on speaker, set it aside and worked your hand under your shirt to grope your breast, moving from one to the other.

“Keep playing with yourself, baby, keep playing with yourself,” he groaned.

“Robby, are you- are you close?” you asked. Every circle of your clit had you closer and closer to the edge, had your legs trembling and heart pounding. You could hear Robby mumbling to himself.

“Shit- god- you're always so beautiful. Spread out, god I can picture you. Your skin so smooth, pussy so sweet. Want to bury myself in there, yeah, fuck, baby-”

“Robby-”

“-Yes baby! I'm close- I'm close, I wont last.”

“Wanna hear you come,” you whined.

“You first,” he said. “Think of me there. Press you into my bed, have you on your stomach, press allll of me into you. Cock just- just buried inside you there. Could just watch your ass go, shit, get it red.... you know how. Oh my god baby, please come for me.”

You pressed down with circles on your clit and came around your fingers, whining, moaning and you heard Robby over the phone groaning, heard his small exclamations as he came around his hand.

“Oh baby, you did so good for me, so good,” he uttered as the both of you caught your breath.

You took your phone off speakerphone and placed it back to your ear. It was small but you felt closer to him with his voice deep down your ear.

“Now clean yourself up on my bed. When I come back, wanna smell yourself there with me.”

The Pitt swallowed you up the rest of the days that followed. As if it knew you had something to go home to, as if it knew you wanted to do nothing more than talk to Robby, think about Robby, dream about Robby, it kept you so busy with late nights and six am wake up calls you had little time to live in this new found lust.

Robby didn't push. You didn't speak about that night because you didn't have to. He still texted with regular check ups when you got home. Still send random pictures of lakes or trees but he knew the demands of work and he didn't prod.

“Have we got labs back on our guy in seven?” you asked Dana.

“Not yet, want me to chase them up?” she asked.

“Please. I'm already behind on discharging two patients,” you muttered to her as Al-Hishimi walked by, head held high as she over saw the place. “But all caught up on my charting!” you said loudly to assure her.

You got a nod back and that was enough for you.

“How's Robby?”

You looked back to Dana, lips pursed, brows raised in question. “What?”

“You heard from him? I guess you had, you stayin' in his place and all,” she said, looking at you through her glasses.

You checked down to your tablet and the patients in three and twelve you needed to discharge, hoping the glow of the screen wouldn't blow up your blush. “Er, yeah, he's doing good, I-I think. We don't talk... all the time.”

“Yeah?” Dana smirked.

You glanced back up at her, catching the knowing glint in her eyes. You looked back down. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.”

Dana moved around you from the counter, patting your hand lovingly before she stopped in her tracks. “Oh. Looks like I can ask him myself.”

“What?”

There were already crowding voices, people calling out his name and nurses going in for fist bumps and high fives. There were questions about what he was doing back earlier than he said, if he'd brought back any gifts. You even heard Garcia who was passing about that promised butchers knife.

Robby stood in the middle of the group like he was some celebrity but his eyes found yours over all of them.

“He returns!” cheered Dana, bringing her arms around him.

One of Robby's own arms snuck around her back. “And in one piece.”

She pulled away and slapped him in the chest. “Hey, don't joke about that.”

Slowly, with Dana's coaching everyone moved back, got back to their jobs and their life. And slowly, Robby sauntered over to you.

You tried to look busy. Tried to wet your mouth that had run dry at the sight of him. A hip bumped into yours as Santos- an all too giddy Santos- slid up next to you.

“Looks like we're back to being room-mates, roomie,” she teased with a grin.

“If I didn't know any better I'd say you'd missed me?”

Santos tried to brush it off but you saw the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot in discomfort. She usually only got so discomforted when emotions like love was involved. “Please. Just want to out-weigh Denis with gender again.”

You smelt Robby before you heard him. He said Santo's name, then yours.

Trinity welcomed him back before she left just as quick as she'd arrived.

Robby let on the counter next to you. He was in jeans and the same coat he'd left it, his bag slung on his back with a helmet dangling off the side. He wasn't working, but he'd came by anyway.

“You're back early,” you said, flicking between patient charts.

“Surprised?”

“Very,” you said, realising you weren't as confident as you'd been nights ago. “I can get my stuff out tonight.”

“I don't want you out,” he said, dropping his voice low. “You know why I came here early, don't go shy on me now.”

“I'm not going shy,” you said, though you were.

“Are you blushing?” he teased, the graze of his knuckle brushing your neck and sending tingels over your body.

“No.”

“You are.”

You batted him away and turned to consider him. “Why'd you come back early?”

Robby wet his lips, eyes casting over you. “Because I had something to come back for.”

You eyes averted to his hands, reverting back to thinking of the coarse skin and imagining him dragging his fingers over you. “I don't get off my shift for another two hours.”

“I can wait.”

Waited he did and the two of you barley made it past his front door before he was grasping you and kissing you. There was no hesitation in his hands or your lips. He gripped and squeezed your hips as the door slammed shut behind you. Robby didn't waste a second in pulling off his jacket and grabbing you again, as if scared you'd disappear in the wind.

He didn't even glance around his place. The only thing he was honed in on was you.

Your lips worked against his furiously, hands gripping his shoulders. “How was your trip?” you were breathless, pulling away to un-button his shirt.

Robby chased your lips, eyes closed, lips curling up into a drunken smile. “Fine.” He kissed you again, mint on his tongue. His hands were warm as they traced up your scrub top, un-tucking your vest from your pants.

His rough hands on your skin woke something else in you. A need you thought you'd made friends with but clearly didn't even know. He kneaded the skin at your hips, working hard to leave red marks.

“Dreamt about you,” he said, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, nose nudging a path. “Every night.”

“Every night?” you gasped as he bit and licked up your neck.

“Mornings. Afternoons. All the time.”

Your smiled to yourself, pushing off his shirt. “It was supposed to be a relaxing break.”

“It wasn't.”

The two of you had stumbled to his room and pulled off clothes. The both of you knew the way well. By the time you'd pushed the door open Robby's belt was discarded as well as your shirt.

With firm hands Robby turned you around till you were facing the headboard, till his hips flushed against your ass and the rough denim of his jeans rubbed against your ass.

Your head lulled back onto his shoulder and he licked up your skin.

“This where you slept?” he muttered, nipping at your ear. “This where you touched yourself, thinking 'bout me?”

“Y-yes.”

You felt the scratch of his beard as he turned his head. You noticed, from the corner of his eyes that he looked up to the corner where the camera sat. He was delighting in this.

“Show me,” he demanded.

You wriggled against him, trying to turn and set yourself on the bed.

His hands gripped your hips. “No, show me here... now.”

All you could do was shuffle down your scrub pants and panties while Robby un-clasped your bra, messaging your breasts. You groaned at the feel of him working at you while you slid a finger over your folds.

“There we go, that's my girl,” he encouraged, chin resting on your shoulder and watching. “Another finger, another finger.”

You slid two in just as you had the other night, imagining his weight on you, his hands. You thought you were wet then but now your need spread down you.

Robby made out with the skin of your neck, stretching his arm out to hold yours that worked inside of you. “God, you're so beautiful. Could watch you like this all night.”

You whined, tilting your head back to give him more access. “Robby.” You thrust your ass back into his crotch and you could feel the hard outline of his cock.

“You come in this bed, huh?” he uttered.

“Y-yes.”

He hummed into your skin. “More than once I bet.”

“Yes, Robby!”

His hand snaked down to yours, helping move your fingers in and out of you. “God, you're so wet, so wet for me.”

Your hand flew up, grasping the back of his neck. “Robby, please... can I have your fingers inside of me?”

Robby smiled against you. “You asked so nicely. Such a good girl,” he said. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and brought out your fingers, leading your hand up to his mouth. “Bet you're not always though, huh?”

Two of his thick fingers pushed into your easily and he moaned.

“Fuck baby, you're warm... tight-”

You groaned at the feel of his fingers working inside of you and his tongue licking up the mess of your on his fingers. He brought your fingers into his mouth, groaning.

In moments you were withering, a moaning mess and grinding down on his hand while his tongue swirled around your fingers, sucking and nipping at your finger pads while his beard scraped your hand.

If those cameras kept a log somewhere, you were dying to see Robby. The feel of his hips rocking into you, him moaning around your fingers.

“Can you come on my fingers?” he asked, voice muffled by where he wouldn't release you in his mouth.

You shook your head in defiance. “I want- I want more.”

“You can have more, you can have more,” he said, finally taking your fingers from his mouth and licking up them. “But you have to come first.”

His thumb pressed down on your clit in small circles and your caved into his body, coming over his hand. Robby helped you ride against his hand.

Only when your body stopped moving and your chest calmed its heaving did Robby pull away from you.

He pushed you down on the bed, ass up and dropped to his knees, shoving his face between your folds.

You cried out at the feel of his tongue splitting your fold and soaking up your arousal and orgasm. His hands spread your thighs, pulling at the skin till you were spread, till his nose ran up and down. “Oh fuck, Robby!”

“Hold onto the sheets, baby,” he said, muffled inside of you.

There was little anything else for you to do. Your hands curled around the sheets, pulling. You thrust your ass up into his face but Robby welcomed it, chuckling into you. His beard scratched between your legs, deliciously.

He slurped once before pulling back, crowding over you till all of him was pressed against you. “Kiss me.”

And you did. You tasted yourself on his tongue, on his lips. He turned you down over onto your back and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you till his weight was crushing you.