🎀 Penny 🎀

You came home from running errands to find... a clean-shaven stranger sitting on your couch reading a worn-out copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. The first thing that leaves your mouth is "What the fuck, Michael?", and he looks up startled to see you standing in the door with an aghast look on your face.

He smiles and says, "Hey, Sweetheart", getting up to kiss you, but you flinch away before he can make contact, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Honey, what...?", he says, not at all understanding why you're glaring at him like he'd just kicked a puppy in the street.

You bring a hand up to stroke his bare face, your scowl only deepening when he says, "Thought it was time for a shave. Like it?"

"No," is all you say before you promptly drop your hand from his face and retreat into the bedroom, leaving Robby standing in the living room dumbfounded.

"What the fuck just happened?", he mumbles to himself, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

For the rest of the day, it's like he's trying to talk to a brick wall, because you refuse to make eye contact with him and keep your replies to him as singularly worded as possible, if you even reply at all.

He's going out of his mind by the time you start winding down for the night, and he about flips his lid when he sees you gather up your pillow and a spare blanket to presumably go sleep in the guest room.

"Sweetheart, come on, talk to me. You've barely looked at me since you got home! What did I do?", he pleads, physically blocking the door to the bedroom so you can't leave.

You still don't look at him, but a quiet murmur of, "You didn't tell me you were gonna shave your beard," leaves your mouth almost unwittingly.

Robby is completely baffled, and he says, "Seriously? I've been getting the silent treatment all day because I shaved without telling you first???", almost amused by how petulant you're being.

You shrug, and your bottom lip sticks out in a pout before you say, "I really liked your beard," clutching your pillow tighter to your chest.

His heart melts. "Sweetheart, it's just hair. It'll grow back. Are you really that upset that I got rid of the beard?", he consoles as he tilts your chin up. You're still refusing to look at him, but when he murmurs your name, you finally look him in the eye and state, "Your face looks naked."

He laughs out loud, then says, "Okay, I promise I'll never shave it off again once it grows back. Only trimming. Can you forgive me, Sweetheart?", his hand running up and down your back.

You pretend to think for a moment, then say, "I guess so. You really promise to never go clean-shaven again?", making him lift a hand in a salute and say, "Scout's Honor."

You nod, and relief floods his body before he pulls you in for a kiss. His pride is only slightly wounded when he pulls back to see you making a disgusted face. "Ew. Yeah, I'm not kissing you until there's at least three days worth of stubble on your face," you say with a wrinkled nose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dennis parts briefly to murmur, “Five minutes.”

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

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

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

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

Dennis swallows, taking another peak at the clock.

6:57.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Specifically the horn.

“Holy—”

“Jesus chr—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Prince Charming!” Frank chirps.

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

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

“Just fine,” Dennis mutters with annoyance.

Trinity muses, “Doesn’t sound fine.”

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

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

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

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

“Both of you keep it down, please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

When Jack had asked you for drinks you'd been overjoyed that your lingering glances and petty touches had been enough to convey your interest. However, you then had to explain yours and Robby's arrangement.

You'd been fucking quietly (as in on the down low, nothing about the way you fucked was quiet) and needed to make sure Jack was okay knowing that wouldn't be stopping just because he was taking you on one date. As much as you'd been looking at Jack, hoping for his attention, you couldn't stop the attraction you had to Robby. It had come first, afterall.

You'd said as much to Robby with his cock deep inside of you. Your hands on his shoulders as you bounced, the plap plap plap of skin bouncing off his bedroom walls. “Jack- Jack asked me for drinks,” you gasped.

Robby's skin glowed in sweat. His hands dug into your hips, helping you move up and down at a brutal pace. “My Jack?”

Something about the way he insisted Jack was his had you moaning out, your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, don't do that,” Robby grunted, head thrown back on his headboard with a whack.

“Your-your Jack. Yes!” Your hands reached back to his thighs, fingernails digging into his skin.

It thrust your chest in Robby's face and he didn't miss a beat to trail his tongue messily across your chest, tasting your sweat and groping at your breast to take your nipple and swirl his tongue around the bud. He moaned around it, sucking like a baby and sending stimulation through your body.

“Fuck-fuck, Robby,” you moaned, dragging your core over him in delicious circles.

He hummed and watched you with encouraging nods. He pulled away from your breast and took your neck, bringing you in to him sharply. He nodded along with the movements of your body. “Come on my cock, scream my name, then we can talk about your date with Jack.”

Come on his cock you did, body shaking, mouth hung open soundlessly as Robby held you close into his chest and rutted up into you till he finished, painting your walls and biting down on your shoulder.

Moments later you were tucked into his side, Robby twirling bits of your hair with his head rested against yours.

“So Jack, huh?” he'd asked. “You want to go.” He wasn't looking at you but at the empty space at the bottom of his bed. There was a chest at the bottom with the essentials for such activities: towels, wipes, condoms, lube, maybe even some toys you'd slipped in as a joke all well within reach for him.

“Yeah I do,” you said. “We're only casual right, I'm within my rights to see who I want, aren't I?”

It was all teasing. You knew Robby didn't really want to share you but couldn't commit either so until then you'd be exercising your freedom.

Till he broke, because you knew he would.

That's how you ended up at a bar with Jack, crowded together in a small booth in the corner just days later. A few empty glasses sat around you, as well as an empty basket of chicken wings you'd shared earlier in the night.

Jack's arm was thrown around the booth, finger so close to touching, thigh almost pressed to yours but he kept just beyond touch. Either out of respect for yours and Robby's arrangement, or to drive you crazy.

“How long's this thing with you and Robby been going on?” he asked.

“Few months. We both needed a release with no strings attached kind of thing and it just happened that way.” You weren't ashamed of it. Not embarrassed that you'd given in to Robby the way you'd always wanted to. You didn't care that he was your boss or older than you by some decades. If stuff like that bothered you, you wouldn't have been sitting in the bar with Jack.

“You ever thought of asking me?” he asked with a smirk.

“If you were there that day, I just might have.”

It wasn't like you could ever ignore how attractive Jack was. Just as you couldn't ignore how attractive Robby was.

“And if I wanted to take you on more dates,” said Jack. “How would that work with you and Robby?”

You took your time in running your fingers over the rim of your glass.

The fact of the matter was you thought it wouldn't get better than Robby. Same hours and the same needs bled into sex that had your body shivering and never left you without pleasure. You liked it. You hadn't thought about changing it. You didn't know if you could find as deep a knowing as you had with Robby.

“I-I don't know,” you said, frowning to yourself at your own admission.

“Hey-hey,” said Jack, hand brushing back your hair and cradling your cheek. “I'm not asking you and Robby to stop.” Jack shuffled closer, finally touching you. “I'm just asking if you had room for one more.”

That's how you ended up in the back of Jack's truck pulled around to the dark corners of the bar, sprawled naked along the backs of his seat, legs spread and his mouth hot and heavy on you.

He'd got an orgasm from you pressed up against the wall, fingers curling and circling in the ways you liked like he'd been studying for this.

“Yeah... yeah...” Jack talked down to your pussy, your arousal coating his lips and almost dripping down before he dove back in, fingers spreading you wide and tongue slotting in.

“Jack! It's-it's too much!” you cried, desperate to close your thighs but his hands darted out and kept one high up on the back seats and the other limp on the floor. “Jack!”

His tongue fucked into you. “Just come. Come for me baby and I promise I'll stop, I promise-”

Condensation rolled down the windows of his truck, your body moving against the seats as you withered in pleasure. You had come on his tongue, not that it stopped Jack as he promised it would.

You had to explain to Robby the next time you saw him why there were bruises he definitely didn't leave at your thighs and why the pussy he'd memorised the taste of had something different to it.

That's how the challenge started.

Your time was split three ways: Work, Robby and Jack. Downtime was spent in Robby's apartment or Jack's place. You had a perfectly divided sets of your favourite clothes in each wardrobe, had given enough hints for each of them to get in your favourite snacks and a toothbrush in each bathroom.

You had, you would say, perfectly trained them.

They knew it. They knew they'd somehow become your toys. They knew if you weren't with one of them you'd be with the other and they used your body like a telegram to read each others messages, but as far as you knew they'd never brought it up with each other in person.

“What are you doing tonight?” asked Robby, hovering next to you, looking down at the tablet in hand.

Around the two of you the Pitt carried on moving. The doctors and nurses conversed and walked, the patients complained and crashed and nobody looked twice at the boss talking to a resident. If they'd looked too close they might have realised how often the two of you did speak in work.

You stood, staring at the board, trying to find a blank spot to slide into. “Uh, dinner with Jack.”

From the corners of your eyes you spotted Robby shifting his weight, head lowering as he huffs.

“Dinner with Jack, second time this week, huh,” he said. “Wonder how this place can manage without him.”

A smirk graced your lips as you turned to consider him.

“Someone feeling neglected?”

“Noooo,” he said, dragging it out and finding something on the tablet cover that was much more important than staring at you. He quipped his head to the side. “Just... you and Jack been going on dinners a lot, this week.”

“Our second one?”

“I could take you for dinner too.”

“But you never do.”

“Do you want me to?” he tried to sound casual but his brows rose at once.

You shrugged. “Ask me.”

“Got to book in time to see you now?” Robby asked. His head bent lower to your ear until you could smell the mint on his lips and feel the heat of his breath ghost the shell of your ear. He blew on it lightly, knowing how it sent shivers down your spine and made your body curl closer into his. “I was here first.”

You tried to hold back a smirk as you stepped back, turning to him. “Is someone jealous?” you teased.

Robby pulled his lips into a frown and shook his head, but he couldn't meet your eyes.

Casual was what Robby wanted, what he thrived on and the only thing he thought he was consistent at. So consistent it was his only relationship. Really, he had no right to be jealous and yet you saw the way his eyes narrowed when patients flirted with you. You knew he felt it when he fucked you hard after doctors on higher floors came down and stared too long at the way you leant over a computer. Casual was what Robby was good at, so he'd never admit he was getting it wrong.

“I'm a single girl,” you reminded him.

“That you are,” he trailed every word longer than it needed to be, saying it as if he didn't quite believe himself.

“And I'm allowed to have dinner with whoever I want?”

“It's not about the dinner,” he said, eyes following a nurse that walked a little too close to the two of you. “It's the fact that I want you in my bed tonight and you tell me you have plans.”

“If you wanted me in your bed more you could just make me your girlfriend?” you said, biting down on your lip to stop your smile.

You watched a glimmer of panic flash in front of his face before it gave way to relief. He knew you weren't really asking because casual worked for you too. Not having to remember dates, or buy anniversary presents or text constantly. It was what you needed. And yet, you loved to tease him with the G and B words.

“I don't have to. You'll come around,” Robby shrugged. “You always do. Tell Jack I said hi.” He walked past you then, hands grazing your elbows as he shuffled by like there wasn't plenty of space.

The small touches he teased you with through out the day was never enough to sustain you. That's why he did it: to keep you coming back for more.

Your dinner with Jack ended how it did almost every night, you in his lap in his apartment, lips moulding against yours, hands running up your back.

Jack always took it slow like the pleasure of you was something to savour, like he didn't believe he'd ever get the chance again. But it had been three months of going back and forth between the two, three months of your body bathed in their kisses and walking around with your head in the clouds.

As much as you loved being with Robby, Jack was new and you were still learning.

“Grinding down on my lap?” he teased slightly breathless, pulling back enough to speak.

You hadn't even realised you were until you felt your panties dampening, till you felt the tension in your hips and the smirk on his lips.

Jack seethed in a breath and went back into you, hand catching the back of your head to draw you in as he encouraged your movements. “Does Robby not satisfy you?”

You smiled against his lips, nipping. “You boys,” you muttered, shuffling closer into his hardening cock, hidden behind his jeans. “Really want to out-do one another, huh?”

“Just want to make sure you're not wasting your time,” he said. Jack pecked your lips over and over again as his hands found the buttons to your jeans, deftly popping them. “With either of us.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

It didn't take long for Jack's fingers to wriggle themselves into your jeans, running lines against your clothed pussy that cried for him. He loved to watch how you moved against his smallest of touches, how you reacted slowly, needy.

“Jack,” you gasped, tilting your head back as his thumb pushed down on your clit, circling slowly. “Robby-Robby says hi.”

Jack hummed. “Does he?” his middle finger slid past the elastic of your panties, finding a home in the warmth of your walls. “He can come say it to me, no good using our girl for messages.”

His lips kissed sweetly at your temple, his endearing move that would catch you off guard in the dirtiest of moments. When he was coaching orgasms out of you through curling fingers or driving into you with your cock, his lips would find your forehead and stay there, mumbling encouragements and compliments that had your body grow fuzzy in a different way.

It was the same way Robby pulled you into his side, fingers twirling around your hair or knuckles grazing your forearms.

They had ways of surprising you, still.

“I got you something,” said Jack, pulling back to get a look at you.

“Oh?”

Jack nodded and tilted his head to nudge against your hose like some horse begging for attention before he withdrew his finger from you. He patted your thighs and you climbed off, falling back into his sofa and letting the cushions swallow you.

You watched as he put his finger in his mouth, licking off the taste of you as if it was a taste of his favourite dish.

Your eyes trailed down his body as he disappeared. The swing of his hips, the pull of his pants over his crotch and the veins that pulled in his arms that had you drooling.

When Jack returned there was a small box in hand and he settled down next to you, throwing an arm around the back of the sofa and offering you the box.

“What is it?” you asked without taking the box. The instinct to sit on your hands to not reach out was a hard one to fight against.

You didn't do gifts, at least not with Robby. His gifts came in litters of kisses and drawn out pleasure throughout long nights. The only present he'd ever got you was a set of lingerie that had only ended up in strips and tears of fabric sprawled along his bedroom floor.

Jack shrugged. “A puppy. You want him to suffocate?” he teased.

With a roll of your eyes you pulled the lid open as Jack tugged your legs into his lap, running his hands up and down.

A thin chain lay on a small velvet, black cushion, a delicate J hanging on the end.

You could feel Jack's eyes on you, watching and waiting for a creation. You were scared to reach out and touch it. Terrified that you'd reach out and the lid would snap shut, that the chain would strangle you. It was as if you'd never been given a gift so beautiful. You hadn't. “Jack, I... I don't know what to say.”

Was it too much? If you and Jack were as casual as you and Robby how could you wear his initial on a necklace?

But you didn't want it to disappear.

You thought about the J hanging over your heart, the chain dangling when you slowly sank onto Jack's cock. You imagined Robby finding it, the way his fingers would push down on the letter till J was etched in there. Or when you rode him, lingering over him to watch his pleasure, would he take the metal letter into his mouth and keep it warm?

“I think you should say-” said Jack, taking up the chain and slowly moving, resting it around your neck. “I love it.”

You moved your hair aside, allowing him to clasp it and relishing in the cooling metal against the flush of your skin. “I do. I love it.”

Jack kissed over the clasp against your skin. “Yeah?”

When your head turned his lips were there, waiting and kissed yours sweetly, hand crawling up to your neck to lay you flat against him. He tested the taste of you with his tongue. His hand ran down your front, pulling at your shirt and exposing the skin only just healing from your last night with him.

“This way,” he said, lips moving against yours with enough time to find words. “When you're with Robby, I'm there too.”

Robby caught sight of the necklace a week later.

“Hey,” he said, eyeing Samira who stood over your shoulder. “Can I borrow you? Ten minutes? Fifteen, tops?”

Sometimes with how well you and Robby played co-workers you couldn’t tell the difference between needing to see a patient and him needing you.

“Course.” Your chair scraped back as you bid a see you later to Mohan and followed after Robby.

He was making a hard line through the department, wearing out his trainers as he didn’t once look back to see if you were hot on his heels. You were.

“Everything okay?”

He led you out the doors and past the stairwell where the on call room was tucked in a corner. It was a room you’d grown familiar with. You knew the desk was rickety and wasn’t best for the kind of activities you and Robby got up to in the room. You knew it was best to cushion the headboard with a cushion, not because there were neighbours to worry about, but to stop anyone else passing by from hearing the thud.

Robby pressed his key into the door and held it open for you, checking the coast was clear before nudging you in and slamming it closed behind the two of you.

His hands were on you, fisting your scrub top, lips claiming yours like he wanted to share his very breath with you.

In spite of the patient you had waiting on discharge, the chairs that you never seemed to quite catch up on and the monitors still ringing in your mind, you held onto Robby with just as much fever. Your hands gripped his shoulders, finding his scruffy hair and pushed your tongue against his.

“You know better than to tease me at work,” he said.

You bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it out.

Robby guided you back to the bed with steady hands on your hips. “Or at least I thought you did.”

When the back of your knees met the bed frame you fell back, dragging Robby with you.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” you mumbled, hands winding under his top, scraping at the roundness of his belly and feeling the bristle of his hairs.

He hummed, pressing his weight into you. “No?”

“Nuh-uh,” you said.

Robby pulled back enough for you to catch the darkness in his eyes, your slightly tinted lip balm smudging his lips. “I thought you were clever, huh?”

Teasing. You'd only been leaning over charting, maybe jutting out your hips a little more. Maybe grazing against Robby more than you needed to.

There was little time to reply before Robby was licking into your lips again, groaning at the taste and the push of himself into you. He opened your mouth and sort your tongue, hands pushing and pulling up your scrub top until skin gave way to skin and he could feel the plains of you, the warmth you were giving off. He tugged and moved at the skin and pulled off your scrub top.

You knew how it would go. In ten minutes Robby would work you up, have you teetering on the edge of insanity and want then send you back out to the ward. He'd demand you to double up on patients and get them all discharged before you left. He'd get you begging by the end of the night.

Your scrub top was thrown to the corner and Robby's hands grabbed your breasts, groping and moving, licking over what spilled from your bra and nipping.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, tugging him in closer-

Then- he grew cold and still, his lips moving away from his chest.

“Huh? Robby, what?” You shook yourself out of your haze and looked at him.

“What's this?” his voice was low in his throat as he pulled back.

There was cooling metal rested on your chest. Your spine tingled as a finger traced the letter there.

Robby was staring down at the necklace with a frown, eyebrows pinched together and mouth twisting.

You'd imagined Robby finding out about the chain a dozen times, but you didn't expect the look of hurt or anger there. “It's nothing. It's just- Jack, a gift.”

“Gift?” he questioned.

You nodded and gulped, suddenly worried. What if Robby said he couldn't do it anymore? He couldn't share you? Would he insist upon you ending it with Jack to have you all to himself, or would he ditch you and leave you to Jack's capable hands.

The both of you shuffled. Robby swung his legs over the bed, running a hand through his hair as he hunched over and you sat up.

“It's nothing, just a gift, I promise, Robby. I promise,” you said, holding onto his shoulders and pressing a kiss into his shoulder.

Robby stared down at his hands. “It's pretty,” he grumbled.

“You're prettier,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Robby turned and pulled a face at you.

You smiled and kissed his shoulder again. “Don't think anything of it.”

He inhaled, body moving against yours as he did. “Hard not to. His fucking letter of his name is sitting in between my favourite place.” His eyes flickered down to where your chest was lying in temptation.

You stilled as his hand darted out, picking up the J and fiddling with it.

There was an odd look to him. There was a clench in his jaw and you could feel his body tense but that familiar darkness was still in his eyes. He still licked his lips like he wanted to take a bite from every bit of your flesh and he wasn't letting go of the initial at your chest.

You'd seen the ways your boys acted. When you mentioned the dinner with Jack and watched Robby try to act like he didn't care. When Jack stripped you bare and eyed the bites Robby had left the nights before. Jack would give time to making those marks worse, deeper in colour and mixing Robby's dried spit with his own. How even with his cock deep inside of you Robby would go the lengths of asking for excruciating details on your dates with Jack.

“Well, I have a theory,” you said, swinging yourself into his lap. His hands fell upon you, working like velcro. “You quite like it, the challenge.”

His brows rose, hands casting up and down you. “Challenge?”

“You and Jack. Sharing me.” To test the waters, you rolled your hips against him and felt his cock answer. “The back and worth. Wanting to do better than the other.”

“Don't I?” he asked, kissing over the chain between your shoulder and neck. He picked it up between his teeth and dropped it back down.

“You both have your talents,” you whispered, tilting your neck back and grinding down on him.

“Yeah?”

“Your favourite things... your favourite parts...”

“Parts?” Robby's eyes were wide and pleasing, looking up to you.

You nodded and closed your eyes, chasing the feeling of him. “Jack... he likes to be down there more,” you said with a particular roll down on your hips. “You like to be up here.” You brought your hands up and squeezed at your breasts to bring them together.

Robby's eyes practically bulge out his head and he latches himself between them, groaning into your skin like this was the only rest bite he craved. The only place he needed to be.

“Jack's staking his claim,” you moaned. “Making sure... you see him.”

His tongue left a trail of his saliva over your chest. “Then I guess I better stake mine.”

Three days later, Robby's head was between your thighs, nudging his tongue in deep, rubbing his nose into your wetness.

You were calling his name, moaning his name when a new smaller cold chain wrapped around your ankle. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking through the haze of pleasure to see a band around your ankle, a delicate R hanging there.

Robby's eyes flicked up to you, smirking and your arousal wetting his lips.

“An anklet, huh?”

“You started it,” said Robby. “A necklace?”

Jack shrugged. “It was something nice.”

“It was a dig.”

Jack shook his head innocently. “No.”

The two of them were leant casually over the counter, stealing a few minutes of relative peace before Robby had to lead him room to room and tell him who was going home and who was not. Who had good chances of living a normal life and those that did not.

Their idea of peace was staring at you from across the floor, where you lingered with Dana. You were talking, just talking with the occasional smile but it was enough for the two of them.

They kept their conversations timid regarding you. They could say everything they needed to say by leaving little bits of each other on your skin.

It seemed the new gifts suddenly sprang on you was encouragement enough.

“So what do we do about it?” asked Jack.

Robby was reluctant to tear is gaze away from you as he slowly dragged his gaze to check on Jack. “On what?”

Jack nodded toward you. “We gonna do this forever?”

“Seems to be working,” said Robby.

“Forever?”

Robby nerves grew on him. He turned his body to Jack, considering him as he considered you. “Has she... said something?” Robby knew he wasn't what made boyfriends or husbands, but were you not happy with what you had?

“No,” said Jack, moving to look down at his hands. “We just gonna keep sharing her? I don't like the idea that I'm stealing your guys time from you.”

“We make it work,” said Robby.

The both of them returned to observing you.

“I like her,” said Jack.

Robby agreed. “Yeah. More than me?”

Jack's eyes ran up and down from you. “Only time will tell.”

“If you're worried about her time we can work something out,” said Robby.

He had the feeling you'd like something like that too. Your time together exhausted him in the best way possible before work so he wasn't sure how you managed splitting your time between him, Jack and work and supposedly getting some rest all between it.

“Work something out?” asked Jack, frowning at the words. It seemed the both of them were stubborn about you. “What? Like a schedule?”

Robby's head fell side to side. “Something like that.”

It took two more weeks of shared dates and beds before you, Robby and Jack could finally be in the same room that wasn't the hospital.

You'd noticed the two of them were talking about each other more. It wasn't unusual for one to bring up the other with arms firm around you, lips etched to your neck.

“Has Jack found that little spot that gets you whining yet?” Robby would ask, sucking on said mark with thick fingers curling into you.

Jack had but you didn't need to answer that for him to know.

“Mmh, mmh, I love this pussy,” Jack said one night when he'd already spent fifteen minutes in lucking and sucking up your pussy. “Can fucking taste Robby in here.”

It was becoming apparent to you, even if it wasn't them, that they really, really liked seeing each other in you. Liked kissing over the same marks and tracing the same path.

Robby had invited you over under the pretence of just casual drinks. You'd said you had plans with Jack (his nights off getting increasingly more likely) and saw the tick in Robby's jaw that you had plans again. Plans that meant his time with you was limited to what he could steal in the staff lounge and on-call room.

Which was why Robby had invited you and Jack around to his. For drinks. Casual.

It didn't stay casual for long.

“Oh, come on,” said Jack taking a swig of his beer, all sweaty from how he'd held it most of the night. “If both of us approached you at a bar, who you picking?”

“I'm not answering that,” you laughed.

You were sandwiched between the two of them on Robby's sofa, curled up between the meat of their thighs that were spread to touch you. Around the back of the sofa, Robby rested his arm while Jack watched you with his head rested on his arm propped on the back of the sofa.

“What? You have to,” said Robby.

“No, I don't,” you said again with a laugh, taking a sip of beer.

“We're big guys, we can handle it,” said Jack with a shrug of indifference.

You doubted they could, whoever you picked. The other would take you to bed and fuck you into the mattress and lick their name against your spine.

Robby's finger prodded into your shoulder for an answer.

“Okay,” you said. You leant forward and ditched your can on the coffee table before settling back with their bodies closer to you. “How does it work?”

“How does what work?” asked Robby, very intrigued by the prospect of who you'd go for.

You rolled your eyes and flattened your feet on the floor. “Dress it up for me. What's the bar like? Who am I with? What are the two of you doing?”

Robby made some sort of pfft sound and laid back.

Jack rubbed a finger over the bottom of his lip and dedicated time to think about it. “The bars dark, low, that kind of thing you'd find downtown,” he recited like he'd thought about this a hundred times. His hand comes to your knee, circling it till you jerked at the tickle. “You'd come with a bunch of your girlfriends and Robby and I-”

“- at the bar,” interjected Robby. His eyes drifted from Jack to you. “We met for a couple drinks, tired from work.”

“Oh, this is very realistic,” you smirked.

Robby gave his own back. “And then you walk in. Little dress, like that black thing you wear sometimes.”

“Practically begging to be noticed,” said Jack. “How could we not? Two old men, down on their luck and a pretty, young thing like you walks in.”

The tingle down your body ran deeper, fuzzier than ever with Jack's hand on you and Robby's eyes lingering. Their breaths and heat co-existing drove you slowly mad.

“Then you start throwing down favours? Is that it?” you asked quietly.

“Rest of the night carries on a bit,” said Robby, drawing your attention to him. He shifts his head side to side as if weighing up the different ways this hypothetical night could go. “Jack and I are having drinks, keeping an eye on you all night.”

“Some of your friends decide to call it early but you want to keep having fun,” said Jack, his hand travelling further up your leg. “Wild girl.”

You had no time to retort before Robby was reaching for you, talking again.

“Jack and I had been waiting for you all night, watching, thinking about buying you drinks every time you got out your card out.” His voice was low, body leaning into you.

“I approach you at the bar, some cheesy line I know you'd secretly like-” added Jack.

“You come sit with us,” said Robby, “Stuck between the two of us just like you are now.”

Robby's breath fanned your pulse thumping in your neck and Jack's hand travelled to the height of your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down. You could imagine it. The bar with the lights down low, catching the eye of the two men who leaned in to talk to each other. Maybe Robby would spot you first as he was saying something to Jack and un-able to take his eyes from you Jack would just have to take a look also.

From there you'd dance with your friends, swing out your hips more than needed, brush back your hair with every sway. You'd check they were watching, enamoured by you every once and in a while and of course they were. How could they not?

“I'm sitting with you now?” you ask, voice breathless as you struggled with knowing who to look at.

Jack's head nodded as his hand came up, popping the button of your jeans. You didn't rise to meet him, nor did you try and stop him.

Neither did Robby.

“Just like now. A good girl, sat between two men who are just slowly, slowly trying to get a taste.” Robby's voice dropped lower and lower, head ducking until he brushed hair from your neck and pressed light kisses along there.

You could feel your own chest heaving, see the the quick moves of it under your hooded gaze.

Jack's hand had slid down your pants and was making a slow observation of your clothed pussy, wet like he'd never known it to be.

You leant your head back for Robby as another warmth spread along the other side of your neck. “Do I let them?” you asked. “Get a taste?”

“Oh yeah,” said Jack, on the account of Robby finding a home in your neck and kissing and licking over his favourite spot. The spot that had your panties growing wetter. “Yeah you let them try, you're so sweet like that.” He pressed a kiss onto your clothed shoulder.

“Whose do we go back to?” you asked, your hands coming up to cradle each of their heads.

“Mine.”

Both of their voices were muffled from lips pressed to different parts of you, but both were just as possessive.

Your fingers curled delightfully around the backs of their heads.

The two of them retreated, looking to each other.

“No cat fights now, boys.”

You leant into Jack first just to grate against Robby's nerves. You pressed your lips into his, holding his face to yours as your lips parted his and you swallowed the sound of surprise he gave you. He groaned and moaned into your lips as he fingers prodded at the gate to heaven under your panties. You were sure he was making more of a noise and more of a show of it because Robby was at your other side.

You didn't know if you'd expected Robby to groan and complain about the show the two of you were putting on. Whether or not he'd get up from his sofa and demand you both leave, ending what you'd been teetering on for months.

Instead, you felt him remain steady and close behind you, his eyes burning into your skull.

You pulled back from Jack slowly, the wet smack of lips leaving the room.

Robby eagerly took you in his arms when you leant back into him.

He sighed at the taste of your lips but as soon as your mouth opened up he moaned at the taste of you mixed with Jack, some forbidden fruit he'd taken the first bite of and become addicted to.

“Oh my god,” Jack groaned from behind you, finally slipping two fingers past your panties and into you folds.

You gasped against Robby's mouth, teeth clashing with his. He held your neck, holding you in to draw out the kiss as his tongue flicked against yours.

You felt Robby's arm stretch out and you expect the feel of his warm embrace, of his hands cupping your chest or pulling back your hair. Instead, he moved past you and wrapped his fingers around Jack's wrist, urging him to move his fingers inside of you in a steady pace.

“Oh-” you moaned, back arching up into Robby was he dropped his head to your neck.

“You're squeezin' me like that, honey,” Jack mumbled against your ear. “Feel like you're already gonna come, huh?”

Robby made a noise into your neck. “We got her excited.”

With your eyes closed in bliss and focusing on not rocking into Jack's hand you blindly reached out. A hand gripped onto Jack's thigh that tensed under your claws digging in and the other to Robby's cock that strained against his jeans.

“Please,” you said, breathless.

Any other time maybe Robby would have put up a fight, make you work for just a glimpse of himself but he smiled and clicked his tongue before he shifted in his seat and started to pop the buttons slowly.

Jack bit down on his lip, his finger working you open and curling but eyes on where Robby's hands fumbled for the belt. “Yeah, that's what you wanted? Wanted Robby's cock?”

“Yes,” you said with a lick of your lips.

Jack brought out his fingers and spread you arousal all around you before circling that small bundle of nerves.

Your head was thrown back, stretching out the skin of your neck. “J-Jack!”

His teeth scraped your neck.

“Gonna come already?” asked Robby, amused at the state of you. He'd never had a front row seat to the effect Jack had on you and by what you'd felt through his boxers and jeans, he was enjoying it.

You shut him up when you bypassed his layers of clothing and wrapped your hand around his cock.

Robby seethed and laid back as you reached around for him, taking what arousal was leaking for the head and dragging it down him.

“You're so good at that, aren't you, baby?” asked Jack as set a steady rhythm upon you. “So good.”

“Jack,” you panted. “Please, I wanna- I wanna-”

He nodded against you.

“You wanna come?” asked Robby from behind you, a hand running up and down your back. “So soon?”

“Let her finish,” said Jack pulling back and staring at you. He worked his fingers over your clit faster, dipping into your heat to drag up your want and repeat it until you were starting to tremble. “Not her fault she's excited by the both of us against her.”

Robby grumbled but couldn't find the words to say much else as your thumb swept the tip of him repeatedly.

“J-Jack!” you came onto his hand with a breath of a moan, your hand squeezing Robby.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he watched you come down from your high.

Jack sent a smirk over your shoulder. “What? Gonna come so soon?” he teased, licking a finger into his mouth and cleaning you from himself.

You caught your breath, slowly taking away your hand from Robby's cock and sitting up straighter. Your heart hammers, your ears were left ringing like you'd just gone through something life changing. You think you had.

Both of the men at your sides shuffled to sit up on either side of you.

“What's up?” asked Jack. “No regrets?”

You looked between the two of them and shook your head.

Before you knew it Robby took to one side of your neck, Jack the other. You were left sitting there as they held you up for them to do their diligent work.

Your eyes closed as you focused on the rub of Robby's beard as he sucked a deep mark onto you. On the other side Jack's slight stubble grazed as he scraped his teeth against different spots of you, unable to settle.

Their hands were hot as Robby's ran over the length of your back, coming around to squeeze at your breasts and earn noises of relief as reward while Jack focused on pulling down your jeans, on pulling open your thighs, desperate to be slotted in between them.

You guided Robby up by his chin, kissing him with a heavy tongue and eager lips writing everything you wanted him to do to you. His cock was still out, protruding and begging for attention with every messy swipe of your lips.

Jack was still on you, making a work at your neck.

You pulled away from Robby, his eyes still almost black from need when you moved to Jack, to kiss him and give him a taste of Robby.

You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline of the two of them kissing you, working you open and apart but you swear you'd never felt the two of them kiss you like they did then. With the other watching, with the other just within reach and with their lips still on the soft skin of yours.

You kept like that for a while, in between them, kissing each one moment, the other breathing hard on you. At some point Jack had gotten his own hardening cock out, rubbing it up and down leisurely as if you had all night to enjoy everything.

Delicately, you dragged your nails down their necks, cupping their chins and kept them steady and like putty in your hands.

Enamoured and under you spell neither realised when there wasn't just one tongue but another. When your smooth skin gave way to stubble neither blinked and when the hands became gruff and coarse, they relished in it.

All until you could guide Robby and Jack's mouths in together, settling back on the sofa like you were about to watch your favourite show.

You watched as Jack's grey and Robby's brown brows furrowed in as they focused in on the new taste, the rougher lips and hotter tongue. Their hands were searching these new bodies with grips and grasps.

Their cocks bobbed with their movements and you watched, mouth salivating.

Noises you'd never heard them make before left them but you weren't even jealous. You were wet and trying to remember what they looked like caving into each other to keep in the back of your mind for months to come.

Only when their faces were reddening and you feared they might fait from suffocation and you'd have to call PTMC and explain why their cocks were out, you clapped your hands once.

Their eyes opened, mouths still against each other as they caught their breaths before looking to you slowly, eyes hazy and faces red, lips swollen.

“Well, this has been fun,” you said, patting their thighs and wedging yourself out from between them. “But I should call it, work tomorrow, early night and all.”

The two were frozen, dumb-founded like teen boys realising they might like their guy friend a little too much.

You were already at the door, throwing your hair over your shoulder and showing the beautiful litters of marks they'd left on you. “See you in work!”

You left gratified. You'd got to come by Jack's hands once and had watched them make out. And even though you were accustom to a drawn out night of pleasure, you were more than set up for the rest of the night with the image of the two of them safely stored away.

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He'd relayed this information once before, another night spent beneath the stream of warm water, your chest to his back. Your eyes had gone wide, glossing over, a sting piercing your nose.

You'd taken a deep breath, quelling your emotions for another time. If you'd let them slip, the moment would become about you. Robby needs the attention more than he'd care to admit, and you're happy to provide it.

Today, you're once again caught under the warm stream of his rain shower. It's spacious, one of the many deluxe features of his grand house.

You position Robby directly beneath the waterfall, reveling in the way his eyes shut as his surrenders to the heat. You press your lips to his, and he melts into you.

Bringing your fingers up to his face, you scratch his coarse beard, peppering your lips over his sleepy face.

"I love you," he murmurs, lips finding yours again.

His tongue pokes out, running over your lips before reaching into your mouth. He's messy, sliding his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth.

You pull back, ever so slightly, nudging your nose against his. Big brown eyes burn into you as you collect his shampoo in your hands, massaging his head, kissing down his neck.

His head falls back, letting the water hit his face as it washes it away. Your heart pounds as you watch him— the empty canvas of his neck, the light flush in his cheeks, the tension in his shoulders.

Your conditioner comes next, an item Robby hasn't fully come around to purchasing for himself quite yet. When you'd moved in, his self care regimen was bleak— two in one hair care, bar soap for his face, not a drop of lotion in sight.

Since then, you've littered his expansive marble counters with various serums, moisturizers, and powders. Robby indulges you, sitting patiently while you rub different products into his skin.

You think he secretly loves it, though he'd never admit it.

You revel in each smooth inch of his skin, his eyes falling shut as you work the conditioner in his hair.

"Still not sure what this does, y'know," he quips, and you sink your teeth into his shoulder. "Hey!"

"Hush! Let me work," you coo, kissing behind his ear and pulling his head away, letting the conditioner set.

You go for his bar of soap next, rubbing it into a wet cloth under the stream. Starting at the top, you work your hands along his shoulders, his back, circling around to his tummy.

Heart pounding in your ears, you hug him from behind, planting kisses along his neck. His warmth pounds deep within you, beating in between your legs.

Sinking to your knees, you work around his legs, his ass, his middle, turning him so you're eye-level with his cock.

You gulp, jaw going slack at the sight of it. He's hard already— a long, thick length curving to the left, pink tip leaking a familiar clear liquid.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and press a kiss to his head. He sucks a harsh breath through his teeth, a sardonic smile forming on your lips.

"Pretty cock, Mikey," you coo, hands braced on your thighs.

You tilt your head, looking up at him, and the sight that greets you nearly moves you to tears.

He's staring back with wide eyes, a parted mouth, a heaving chest.

"Baby, you gotta stand up," he breaths, bending down to loop his hands under your armpits, pulling you back up to eye-level.

Your heart sinks, and you're completely incapable of fixing your face.

"Aw, sorry, honey," he croons, pinching your cheek at your little pout. "It's just- if you get your mouth on me, I'm gonna cum, and then I won't be able to fuck you the way I want. You understand me?"

His large hand cups your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and jutting your lips out. Despite his control, his strength, you nod.

"Good girl," he purrs, setting you free. "Let me get my hands on this gorgeous body, get you nice 'n clean, and then I'm gonna make you come on this pretty cock. How's that sound?"

A shiver tickles your spine, arching your back into him.

"So good," you murmur. "Please touch me, Mikey. Don't care how, just- want your hands on me."

He obeys, your everlasting relief. Grabbing your cloth, he rubs your fruity body into the fabric, pulling you in for a kiss before bringing it to your skin.

His touch is gentle, sweet, followed by his eager kisses as he cleans you. Sinking to his knees, he peppers your tummy with kisses, his favorite part of you.

Sinking his teeth into the pudge there, he moves lower to the mound of your pussy, pressing his lips there, shoving his face even deeper for a whiff.

"God, Mikey!" You cry, throwing your head back, sinking your hands into his hair.

"Mmm, can I eat you, baby? Would make me feel so much better," he pleas, and you're spreading your legs on instinct.

He growls, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder as he slots underneath you.

"Good girrrllll," he drawls out, running his tongue over your clit. "Sweet girl knows what's fuckin' good for her, yeah?"

You nod, whimper despite yourself as he moves lower, dipping his tongue into your hole.

He's selfish, playful, almost, as he laps at your juices. It's heinous, the slurping sounds that echoes against your center.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he brings a finger to your hole, poking in ever so slightly.

You gasp, knees buckling under the pressure as he sinks his digit in, getting to the knuckle and curving upward.

Your skin prickles as he reaches your special spot, punching cute little whines and whimpers out of you with each curl.

"Mikey, fuck," you whine, the white heat of your orgasm creeping into your belly.

You tighten around his finger, going limp as he adds another, the stretch intrusive and delicious.

"Mikey! Your fingers are so perfect," you whine, his lips continuing their assault on your clit.

He makes a strangled noise against it, the vibrations shooting through you, knees giving out completely at the intense pleasure.

His free hand holds you to the wall, a harsh grip where your thigh meets your ass, squeezing the plush skin a little extra.

You inhale, a sharp, painful breath as Robby rips your orgasm from you. You fall forward, propping your hand on his free shoulder as you grind your hips into his face.

Both hands grab your ass, pulling you further into him as he shakes his head, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Trails of fire ripple through you as you grind against your lover, shockwaves ebbing and flowing with his movements.

"Oh my God," you gasp, wiggling your hips ever so slightly as you finally come down, a shiver running through your burning skin. "Thank you Mikey, that was so fucking good."

He presses a kiss to your thigh before popping back up to eye level. He wastes no time maneuvering your body in the direction of the stream, dampening your cloth once again in order to wipe you down.

You shake in his arms as the fabric runs through your folds, your most sensitive spots. He shushes you, kisses you all the same.

Once you're both good and satiated, you eagerly climb into bed, gripping his hips as he slots over you.

His big hand smooths your hair out of your face, your lashes kissing your cheeks as you lean into his warm touch.

Opening your eyes, you find his shining back at you. Lips pursing, you press a sweet kiss to his palm, and he's unable to resist much longer.

He leans down, brushing your lips together, breath hitching in his throat as you savor the moment. Your tummy twists, near delirium from the proximity, heart pounding against your chest.

Picking your head up, you close the gap, meeting his lips with pure desperation. His tongue slots out almost immediately, a sloppy display of his affection.

Your lips catch his tongue, circling around the muscle and giving it a sweet suck. A moan escapes Robby's throat, a sound that reverberates through the apex of your thighs.

Grinding his hips into yours, you gasp at his hard length against your thigh. He echoes another moan, rocking his hips against yours, his bare cock rubbing against your showered skin.

With a few more thrusts, his cock slots through your folds, tip catching on your clit with each movement. Throwing your head back, you clench around nothing as you swirl your hips, desperate for any extra stimulation Robby was willing to give you.

"Love kissing my baby," he groans, his big hands nearly covering your entire face as he peppers sweet kisses to your lips, one after the other after the other.

"So pretty, lips look so cute when they're swollen," he murmurs against your mouth, pressing another bruising kiss into you. "All swollen from your old man, yeah?"

You nod, feeling hazy from his warmth, his cock just teasing your clit. You're leaking around him, feeling it drip down onto the sheets below you. Clenching again, and again, and again, you throw your head back, brows furrowed in a bratty whine.

"When are you gonna fuck me?" You plea, chasing his lips with yours. "Missed you so much, please."

It's nearly a sob, blood buzzing from his proximity, his woodsy aftershave flooding your sense.

The passion sparkles, crackles between you two, and he does not stop kissing you. Rolling his tongue over yours, he reaches down to grip his cock, squeezing it once, twice, letting out a low groan before lining it up with your entrance.

His tip pokes at your hole, a soft, 'ah!' leaving your lips at the intrusion. The stretch is sinful as he sinks in, your tummy flipping from the pressure of his thick length.

"Ooh, that's it, pretty girl," he coos, pressing his lips against yours. "That's my pretty girl, so good at taking cock, hm?"

You whine, kicking your legs out as he bottoms out inside of you.

"Yeah," he pouts, sardonic and a little condescending. "Yeah, I know, taking it so good. So pretty when you take all of me."

Pressing his lips to yours again, you whine as he starts to move his hips. His length throbs inside of you, big and heavy as it stretches you out, spreads you open all over him.

A clear string of saliva connects you two when he pulls away, finding the rhythm that sends your eyes to the back of your head. Your heart pounds with each thrust, nearly leaping out of your bones at the pleasure.

"Love you," you whine, spreading sloppy kisses all over his face. "Love you so much, love taking care of you."

He groans at your words, your lips dragging down his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

"Fuck," he groans, planting his knees on the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and picking up speed. "Perfect fucking pussy," he growls, bringing the pads of his fingers to your clit.

His rough skin slides over your button with the perfect friction, the coil in your belly winding tight.

"Ooh," he chuckles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them. "Y'liked that, huh? Like when I tell you how perfect this pussy is?"

You nod, gasping and licking into his mouth— a frenzy of lips and tongues rolling over each other.

"Yeah, 's my perfect girl, love you so much," he whispers, clenching his jaw as his rhythm grows sloppy.

"Love you, Mikey," you wail, stomach burning with your impending orgasm. "Love you, wanna cum, please?" You look up at him with wide eyes, pouty lips.

"Of course, baby," he croons, kissing your cheek. "Of course you can cum, my sweet girl. Come all on this cock, you can do it."

His encouragement snaps you in half, your orgasm rolling over you in tsunamic, fiery waves. Your blood is on fire as Robby works you out, his cock throbbing against your tight hole, squeezing his own release out of him.

"Fuuuuckk," he grunts, hips stuttering against yours as he rides out his high.

"So good, so good, it's so good, Mikey," you whisper, peppering his face with kisses. "Always so good, love this cock."

"Fuckkkk yes, baby," he growls, snapping his hips into you one, two, three more times. "Got you, I always got you, pretty girl."

"Love you, kiss me again, please," you request, and he slots his lazy lips over yours.

His hips slow, body falling into the bed. He pulls you with him, hand on the back of your head to keep your lips pressed to his.

You roll onto your side, wrapping your arms around him as he slips out of you. A shiver unzips your spine as you fall back into Robby, his hands rubbing circles up and down your back.

"Love you honey, feels so good, thank you, baby," he whispers. "Make me feel so good."

"Love you too, Mikey, so much," you whimper against his lips. "I love making you feel good, you deserve it, work so hard," you fiddle with his hair as you talk, lips grazing against his.

"Fuuucckk, you can't fucking say that to me," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut, cock twitching beneath you.

"Michael, really?" You gape, looking up in surprise at his body's reaction.

He chuckles, burying his face into your neck.

"Can't help it, pussy's too sweet," he jokes, pressing a kiss to your sweaty skin.

You choke out a laugh, smacking him on his bicep before leaning in for another kiss.

"You're insatiable, old man," you tease against his lips. "But I'm the one who's gonna need more time now. C'mon, hold my hand while I pee?" You ask with wide eyes.

His instincts kicked in, adrenaline running through his veins as he dropped the little onesie he was folding on the couch and sprinted upstairs. As an emergency medicine doctor, every possible scenario was running through his mind and of course each one he already had a plan for. What could have happened in the 5 minutes you were in the bathroom, potty training your two year old?!

“What?! What happened?!” He exclaimed, ready to fight whatever was in the bathroom with his bare hands. He found you in the corner of the bath tub, frozen and clutching a giggling baby girl to your chest, pointing at a spot near the doorframe.

He turned his head, squinting at the tiny black spot crawling slowly towards the door. “Dada ‘pider!!” The toddler shrieked excitedly, pointing at it and clapping her hands.

Jack let out an exhale, bending slightly and putting his hands on his knees. “Honey…” he said, shaking his head slowly, trying to catch his breath.

“Jack, there’s a spider!” you whisper-yelled, as if the spider would think it was your time to go and jump a few meters straight towards you if you were a little louder. “‘Pider dada!” The little one echoed, still with a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

Jack laughed, “yeah baby, that’s right! Want to come see?”

“Yes peas!” She wiggled out of your embrace, putting her arms up so her dada can help her out of the tub.

He picked her up, winking at you, still frozen in the corner and offering you his hand. “Come on, honey.”

You take his hand, standing up and groaning quietly at the click! your knee made. “Don’t laugh at me, Jack Abbot.” You huffed, still keeping an eye on the spider.

“I’m not!” He snorted, laughing when you playfully swatted at his arm.

“Mama scared?” The toddler asked, looking at you curiously with the same hazel eyes you fell in love with years ago. “No, baby, mama was just surprised,” booping her nose with your finger just to see her giggle (and distract her from spilling to dada what mama was like when she was “not scared, just surprised”).

Jack snorted again, leading you both towards the horrifying, terrifying, monstrous 2 cm (yes, you read that right) jumping spider on his bathroom wall.

You tensed up when he lifted his free hand up toward the wall, the spider immediately jumping on his finger.

“This is a jumping spider, he’s just very curious and wants to know what you’re doing. You want to try putting him on your finger?” Jack could see the gears turning in her head and realized it wouldn’t take a lot of convincing to encourage the curiosity of his daughter, “he doesn’t bite unless you’re mean, so you have to be veeery gentle.”

The two year old on his arm was quiet, lifting her hand up next to her dada’s, confidently trusting in what he said. She gasped when the spider jumped over to her finger too, whispering in awe, “cute ‘pider…”

She shifted her attention to you, and you flinched when she moved her hand closer to you so you could take a look, “Mama see!”

You knew Jack was holding back his laughter as you awkwardly smiled at your daughter. She was waiting, expecting you to lift your hand up and take the damn spider too.

Thankfully, Jack interfered and took you out of your misery softly speaking, “I think the cute spider is looking for his mama. They live outside in the backyard. What do you think, mama?”

You let out a breath of relief, agreeing, and grateful he interrupted before your little girl decided herself that you should take the spider too.

Hours later, with the spider gone somewhere in the backyard and the little girl passed out in her bed after an afternoon full of jumping spider facts and Lucas the Spider videos, you and your husband are in the living room, snuggling and watching a show on Netflix a friend recommended to you.

“She gets that from you, you know?” you said suddenly, looking up at him.

“Hm? What do you mean?” He replied, absentmindedly rubbing your back and looking back at you.

“Her fearless curiosity… she gets that from you.” You clarified, smiling now because you know he still gets shy with compliments even after years of being together.

He starts shaking his head, bashful. “No, no. I will literally not accept any objections from you. She’s brave because she sees it from you.”

“Yeah? Well she gets her confidence from you, honey.” He kissed your temple, resting his head onto yours and letting yourselves have this moment.

“Next thing you know she’ll be asking for a pet tarantu-“

"Hold still, Daddy," the girl whispered, her fingers clutching a paintbrush like a magic wand. She smoothed a thick stroke of bright turquoise paint right over his left shoulder blade. "You need big wings."

Jack sighed, resting his cheek against his crossed forearms. A lazy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'm holding as still as I can, bug. But that tickles."

"''tayyy stillll," she instructed, her tongue poking out in concentration.

Your man was the one who commanded trauma rooms and now he was reduced to a human canvas for a toddler.

"How’s the masterpiece coming along, my little artist?" you asked, stepping into the room and dropping to your knees beside them.

Your babygirl looked up, her cheeks smudged with skyblue paint. "Mommy! Look! Daddy’s a fairy. I need more pink... More pink, please?" She held up a completely empty messy plastic palette.

"You got it, sweetie," you said, reaching for the bottles of paint on the coffee table. You squirted a generous amount of pink onto her palette. "Hold on, bug. If we're doing a fairy, we have to do it right."

You reached over to the craft basket and pulled out a shaker jar of extra fine silver glitter.

Jack's head, slowly, turned toward you. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead, and he leveled you with a glare that said, Seriously?

"You..." he muttered. "Tell me you're not giving her the glitter."

"It's a crucial element of her artistic vision, Jack," you replied, trying to hide your grin.

"Glitter is so hard to wash off," he warned. "I'm going to be sweating silver in the ER tomorrow, for God's sake."

"Yay, shine wing!" the toddler cheered, completely ignoring her father's concerns. She held her tiny hands out, cupping them together.

You carefully shook a small pile of shiny silver dust into her palms. "Okay, bug. Very gently, put it onto Daddy's wings."

Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight, shielding his face in his elbows. "I'm a grown man. I am a department head," he reminded the floorboards.

The toddler leaned over his back, took a deep breath, and let out a huge PFTH.

A cloud of silver glitter exploded through the air, settling beautifully over the wet, blue and pink paint... and over Jack’s hair.

Jack opened his eyes and slowly looked back over his shoulder.

His back was SHINING.

He gave you another look.

"Beautiful, an absolute vision" you choked out, biting your lower lip hard to keep from laughing out loud as your baby clapped her sticky hands together, proud of her work.

"I'm letting her have her fun now, but you're the one who has to help me scrub all this off in the shower later."

"Deal," you laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

-

"You're a beautiful fairy, Daddy," she whispered after paiting his back with a little more of the pink paint, her voice dropping into a sweet tone. You recognized it, it was almost nap time.

"Yeah?" he asked softly. "You think I can fly now?"

His little girl nodded as she let out a yawn. "High the sky. To stars." Her eyelids fluttered but she shook her head stubbornly.

"Are you tired, bug?" you asked her softly.

"No, more," she mumbled, blinking against the sleepiness as she reached out a sticky hand toward the jar of glitter. "Needs..." She settled her little knees on either side of his spine, straddling his lower back, and took the jar from your hands. Her movements grew slower. Her arm hovered in the air, the jar tilting dangerously, before her hand finally came down to rest heavily on Jack’s body.

Then, she didn't collapse against him. Instead, she just stayed right there, sitting completely upright on his back like a tiny sleepy statue. Her chin slowly sank down to her chest, her breathing went deep and her grip on the glitter jar loosened as she drifted straight into dreamland, perfectly balanced.

Jack didn't move. "Is she... did she just fall asleep sitting up?" he whispered.

"She's out cold," you giggled quietly, leaning closer to look at her. Her head swayed slightly with her deep breaths, but her little legs remained locked on his waist, holding her upright in her sleep. "She’s like a little bear, oh my."

"A very creative bear," Jack murmured. He carefully reached one large hand behind his back, resting his palm flat against her small waist to keep her steady and secure. "I can't stay like this forever, as comfortable as my back apparently is."

"Don't move, I have to capture this," you whispered. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo.

"Help me out, baby," Jack groaned silently.

You moved in close, gently slipping your arms under your babygirl's arms and lifting her weight off his back. She let out a soft sigh but didn't wake up, immediately tucking her head into your neck.

With his back finally free, Jack carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at his little girl, then felt the hardness of the paint drying on his back. "Please tell me we have a scrubbing brush in the bathroom."

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧˖°.｡⋆💉

Part One: I’m Sorry

You wake up to the feeling of your husband kissing your shoulder and neck softly, no urgency or pressure on his lips. He’s whispering sweet nothings into your skin – I love you, you’re beautiful, you’re everything to me – and the soft scratch of his overgrown beard tickles your skin. He hasn’t been trying to wake you, but you don’t mind. It’s perfect compared to the alarm that’s going to blare within the next hour, based on the sunrise beginning to threaten the winter horizon.

“Mmm. Morning, baby.” You stretch your arms above your head and Robby responds by wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you tight against his body. Realizing you’ve actually gotten a full night’s sleep, you lace your voice with gratitude, roll your ass against his morning wood, and purr, “You did the overnight all by yourself? That’s hot.”

“Ain’t my first rodeo,” he teases against your ear. Robby tugs down your sleep shorts and massages his way over your hips and ass, his hand greedy but still lazy and sweet. He slips his fingers between your thighs, toying with your pubic hair, and murmurs, “I know there’s no better way to earn morning sex than to take care of the baby while you get your beauty sleep.”

“You’re a very smart man, Dr. Robinavitch,” you praise as you shift your hips back to give him better access. Your eyes flutter closed as he slowly circles your clit, knowing just how to touch you after so long together. It’s not long before your body warms up and you let out a breathy moan, keeping your volume low.

Robby feels your pussy getting slick and coos, “Fuck, I’ve missed this pussy so goddamn much.”

“Since when?” You roll your eyes even as you encourage his every touch. “We had sex before bed.”

He kisses the curve of your shoulder and murmurs as he pushes his first two fingers slowly inside of you, “I can’t miss my favorite girl overnight? She’s so wet for me. Clearly missed me, too.”

You start to melt as he curls his fingers against your walls, methodical and steady. “Can’t argue with you there.”

Then the sound of your two older daughters hissing at each other down the hall interrupts your happy floaty thoughts. 

You groan in defeat, “Why are they up so early?”

“It’s already six,” Robby whispers back, not wanting to alert the girls that the two of you are awake lest they try to involve you in their fight. He reluctantly removes his fingers from your pussy, licks them clean, and tentatively begins, “Should we go and…?”

“It doesn’t sound too bad yet,” you reply, flipping over to snuggle into his chest, where he immediately wraps you up in a familiar embrace. “I wanna be with you a few more minutes before your double.”

He kisses the top of your head and sighs contentedly, “You’re such a sap.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

You manage to steal away three full, blissful minutes of cuddling with your husband before the teenage tornado in the hall picks up to lethal speed, threatening all structures in close proximity. Two high-pitched screeches pierce the relative quiet in tandem, both wielding the one word they think can rain terror on their opponent: “Mom!” 

You lean your head back and sigh heavily, “Do I have to go out there?”

“On the plus side, we made it to-” Robby checks the alarm clock “-6:07 before the start of today’s war.”

“Better than last week.” Groggily sitting up and grabbing your discarded pajamas off the floor while the girls’ argument grows in volume, you gripe, “Do you think it’s too late to put them up for adoption?”

Robby sighs and laughs as he tugs on his sweats. “I’m sure there are orphanages that take 16-year-olds somewhere. Might even give us a tax benefit or something if we throw in the 14-year-old, too.”

“But then who would we embarrass in public? Each other?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Me neither. I’ll take the baby, you take the teens?”

Faux-exasperated, he pouts, “I have to take the teens just because you have the breastmilk?”

You pat his chest affectionately and give him a quick kiss, perching on your tiptoes. “That’s just how the cookie crumbles, daddy. We can ask our lactation consultant about switching roles if you want; you’d be amazed how far science has come.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Robby heads through the bedroom doors in his sweats and you follow just behind him, ducking into the nursery instead of down the hall to the teens’ shared bathroom where the first front of WWIII is playing out.

Seeing their dad instead of you, the girls shut their mouths and look at their feet.

Robby speaks low and gently, “I’m not gonna suggest peace, but can we at least keep it down out here when we fight? Your little sisters don’t have to be up for school for another hour and your mom pushed out a human person twelve weeks ago, so she should get to sleep in, but now the baby’s up because of the yelling.” They both mutter something close to an apology to him, still glaring at each other. Arms crossed over his chest, Robby puts on his best Serious Doctor Robinavitch face and asks, “So what’s going on here?”

Tanner clenches her jaw and gestures dramatically to Maggie. “Kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

He looks at her flatly. “Humor me.”

“Her clothes.”

Robby inspects them carefully and realizes both teenagers are wearing jeans, a white tee, and a black silky camisole layered over it. He remembers you wearing similar outfits back in the naughty aughties. He’s not crazy about the inch of midriff exposed on Tanner, but you’ve put in a lot of time convincing him that it’s developmentally appropriate clothing and it’s not her fault she had to inherit his height, so he bites his tongue on that front. Slowly, after a minute of consideration, he offers, “You…match.”

“Exactly!” Tanner groans, “She saw me in this and immediately put on that.”

“And?”

“Dad, seriously? I know you’re fashion blind, but I can’t go to school wearing the exact same thing as my freshman baby sister.”

Robby sighs, “So go change.”

Tanner scoffs again; Robby’s wondering when her sounds of exasperation started sounding so much like his. “Why should I change? She’s the one who copied me in the first place.”

“How about you both change?”

Maggie crosses her arms over her chest and bites back, “I’m not changing. I like this outfit. I look better in it than you anyway.”

Before Tanner can freak out at that one, Robby raises his voice and both his sands slights. “Woah, there, let’s not launch the nukes at this hour.”

You emerge from the nursery with Daisy sleeping against your chest, her mouth open and her expression totally content. Both the teens love the baby, so they soften slightly. Relief washes over Robby; this isn’t really his area.

Unable to resist and seeing a clear path to resolution, you smile at your eldest daughters and say, “You two look adorable. I remember when we used to put you in matching outfits all the time. Aw, maybe we should pick something like that out for Daisy and take pictures before school!”

Maggie shrieks defiantly, shoves into her bedroom, and slams the door.

Tanner crosses her arms over her chest, glares, shakes her head, and then ducks back into the bathroom.

Robby loops his arm around your lower back, plants a kiss on the top of Daisy’s head, and chuckles, “That was a diabolical move, hon.”

“They’ll both change,” you reason with a shrug.

The closest bedroom to you creaks open slowly, a tiny figure emerging from the dark that’s interrupted only by her nightlight. Rubbing sleep from her eyes as she clutches her tattered baby blanket, seven-year-old Susanna pushes open her door and asks, soft and sleepy, “Why are they mad today?”

Robby sighs and tells her, “They’re teenagers. They’re made of being mad.”

She nods her head and reaches up for her dad’s arms. Robby’s getting too old for it, but he still pulls her up onto his hip. She leans on his shoulder and mutters, “I’m never gonna be a teenager.”

Robby kisses the top of her head. “Good plan, mouse.”

You give him a look and then tell Susanna, “Yeah, you will be. You’ll fight with Evie over stupid stuff the same way Maggie and Tanner fight, but then you’ll hug and make up and be best friends again by the end of the day because we’re family. And what does that mean to us?”

She yawns and mumbles, “Hope-oh-no-no.”

Robby laughs but smiles tenderly, correcting, “Ho’oponopono. What’s that mean, princess?”

She snuggles into his chest, props her thumb in her mouth (a habit you’ve been unsuccessfully trying to get her to kick for the better part of five years), and mutters around it, “I’m sowwy. I wove you.”

After another yawn, her voice drifts off into nothing and her breathing gets heavy again. Robby’s always had a magical ability to get anyone to fall asleep in his arms. He takes a deep breath of her feathery dark hair, cherishing the few remaining moments he’ll have of picking her up, and then takes her back into her bedroom, tucking her in for another hour of sleep.

Tanner emerges from the bathroom with her hair sleekly parted, sharp eyeliner and glossy lip applied. She’s always been much cooler and more stylish than you ever were at her age; Robby worries about her becoming conceited, but you see the artistry and skill behind her interest in fashion and makeup. As she stuffs her backpack right in the entryway to her bedroom, you walk up behind her and muse, “Maggie just thinks you look cool, T.”

“Because I do,” she huffs back. “But that doesn’t mean she can copy me; she should grow her own personality.”

“She’s trying to. Right now, she’s looking around at everyone else trying on little pieces of their personalities to see what fits. Remember when you were her age and you wanted to wear my perfume and my shoes all the time?”

“Well, yeah, I thought you were the prettiest woman in the world.”

You narrow your eyes teasingly. “Thought?”

Tanner snorts. “I think you’re the prettiest woman in the world, mom, and I wanted to be like you.”

“So what do you think that means about your sister copying you?”

Tanner purses her lips rolls her eyes — but then she crosses the call, knocks on Maggie’s door, and calls gently, “Hey, Mags, I’m sorry, alright? You looked really cute. You want me to help you pick out something to wear? You can borrow one of my shirts.”

After a minute of shuffling around, Maggie reappears with shiny eyes and red cheeks. Swallowing hard as she pretends to still be mad, she offers, “Fine.”

An hour later, with the older girls ready to go out the door and the younger two just waking up, you’re a whirlwind. You set the table for the whole family, make lunches, and half-supervise Susanna and Evie’s morning routine. They’re generally speaking old enough now to pick out their own clothes, but you still check in to make sure they don’t grab anything that would lead to a call from a teacher. Robby has the baby strapped to his chest, looking far too hunky in his black scrubs as he scrambles eggs for seven, while you make sure all the girls have what they need for the day in their backpacks. It’s routine now, practiced, but you’re still methodical about each step.

As the girls pile into the kitchen, Robby plates up eggs and hasbrowns and fruit for each of them, handing over your plate first. One thing he’s always insisted on is eating breakfast as a family since it’s the only time of day you’re all reliably at home. Once everyone’s sitting down and relatively quiet, you give the day’s marching orders: “Dad’s working a double, so I’m on chauffeur duty tonight. Tanner has yearbook club after school, so Maggie, you’ll have to find some way to entertain yourself before I can pick you up after.”

Maggie grumbles some sort of annoyed approval; they all know the drill when Robby has long, unavoidable shifts.

You go on, “Evie’s school has a half day today, so-”

“What?!” Susanna’s mouth falls open from the injustice of it all. She’s adorable and cute when she’s all sleepy, but once she’s had a hit of orange juice, her personality is the size of a semi truck. “How is that fair? I have to go to school all day and then still go to my soccer game? That’s bullshit!”

Robby chokes on his juice, trying not to laugh. “I told you to stop saying that, kiddo.”

“Uncle Jack says it all the time!”

“Uncle Jack is a grown-up.”

“Uncle Jack says that-”

You clear you throat and say, “Uncle Jack isn’t your father. You’ll get in trouble at school if you talk like that, and if you get in trouble you can’t do soccer.”

She pouts but nods. You haven’t yet explained to her that Evie goes to a different school because she’d been bullied at the public school for being autistic. It’s not an easy thing to explain to a bubbly, protective seven-year-old who thinks her nine-year-old sister is the coolest person alive because she can name every type of bug native to Pennsylvania.

You take a deep breath and continue with morning announcements, “Like she said, Susanna has a soccer game tonight and we will all be going, so we’re-”

Tanner scoffs and protests, “I have plans with Luke and-”

“And you should’ve checked the family calendar before you decided on that,” you interrupt, pointing to the whiteboard covered in sticky notes that rules everyone’s lives. “We’re all going to your photography showcase this weekend, so you’re going to Susanna’s soccer game. We show up for each other here. I’m even gonna take everyone to dinner beforehand, so it’s not the end of the world.”

Mischief flickers in Tanner’s eyes. A bargaining chip. She asks, “If I have to flake on my friends, can I at least drive us to the game?”

You glance over at Robby; he’s the one who’s always hesitant to let her log practice hours now that she has her permit. He gives a reluctant, tight-lipped grimace with his nod. “Sure, it’s not far.”

“Hell yeah.”

Robby narrows his eyes. “Tanner.”

“Heck yeah,” she amends with a cheeky smile.

Susanna gives her oldest sister a punch on the arm and a gap-toothed smile. “I’ll even score a goal for you.”

Maggie snickers, “Your team’s actually gonna score a goal for once?”

Susanna’s next punch to her other sister’s arm is much less friendly. She furrows her brows, looking way too much like Robby, and screams, “That’s such bullshit!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as Daisy starts to squirm against Robby’s chest. He just looks at you and smiles softly while they start arguing back and forth. Next to you, Evie tugs on your tee’s sleeve and asks quietly, “Can I take my breakfast and go watch Bluey?”

Knowing she just needs some peace and quiet, you brush some butter from her cheek and sigh gently, “Yeah, sweetheart, go ahead.”

The other three don’t even notice her making a silent escape to the living room, too wrapped up in complaining at one another. It’s amazing how Susanna can match wits and volume with the girls who are twice her age. It only ends when Robby’s watch beeps. He starts collecting empty plates as he announces, “Alright, Team High School, get your butts in the Audi. I won’t be participating in any arguments about who gets shotgun. You have two minutes before I drive to the hospital without you.”

Tanner and Maggie both launch out of their chairs and toward the door, already definitely arguing about who gets the heated seat, which comes with control of the radio. The ability to turn off Robby’s favorite station that mainly plays Rush and Eagles is a huge privilege.

As their voices receded into the garage, Robby places the dishes in the washer and then turns to you. He touches the top of Susanna’s head and offers, “Wanna hold your sister for a minute, Suz?”

Susanna wrinkles her nose. “So you can kiss Mommy?”

Robby raises up his hands like he’s been caught. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, buy only because she’s being cute right now.”

“Same rules I follow,” you chuckle while Robby relocates Daisy from his chest to her big sister’s arms. He’s careful to remind Susanna how to support her head and neck, always protective and anxious as a dad even when they’re sitting perfectly still. When he stands up straight, you lean up on your toes and link your arms behind the back of his neck. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” he laughs, bending down to kiss you fondly. “Love you. Be safe today.”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply with an eye roll, “I’ll be safe on the couch with my baby while you deal with gunshot wounds and scalpels for twelve hours straight.” You cut off his response with another kiss and then poke him sternly in the chest. “Eat a full lunch and a full dinner. Snacks every other hour. Actually take bathroom breaks and your fifteens.”

He sighs at your sweetness, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know, I know, gotta take care of myself so I can take care of everyone else.”

“That’s right. See you tomorrow, Dr. Robby.”

Part Two: Please Forgive Me

Jack Abbot shoves into the Pitt an hour before he’s scheduled with panicky eyes that expertly scan the entire area. He jogs up to the nurse’s station where Dana’s about to question him when he demands, “Is Robby here? Did he leave early or something?”

Dana touches his forearm and searches his face. “Dr. Abbot, are you alright?”

Jack rambles out, still looking over her shoulders in case his best friend walks by, “I couldn’t sleep and I had the scanner on and I heard about a multi-vehicle with a light blue Lexus TX.”

“Yeah, EMS called it in. Sounds like it’s gonna be gnarly. Multiple casualties in the field. A handful of ambulances are a couple minutes out, but we’re fully staffed and- What? What’s that face about? What’s going on?”

“That’s just- that’s what Robby drives.” Jack lets out a deep breath as he sees Robby’s lumbering form cresting around a corner, snapping off exam gloves and beelining for the closest vending machine. “Just a coincidence, I guess.”

Dana snorts as she goes back to charting. “Robby drives a Lexus?”

“Yeah, and I thought- I was worried that- You know how I get.” He shakes his head dismissively and Robby walks toward him with a curious look in his eyes. Jack pulls him into an unexpected hug, clapping him on the back and muttering, “Jesus, brother. Anxiety had me thinking you got in a car crash; sorry about the hug.”

“I’ll never say no to a free Jack Abbot hug,” Robby jokes. Pulling back, he offers Jack a cup of coffee and presses,  “I heard there’s a crash coming in; why’d you think I’d be out driving when you know I’m scheduled today?”

Jack shrugs, takes the cup, and tells him, “Crash has a light blue TX in it; I know yours is a custom wrap, so I figured the odds there’s more than one here are-”

Deathly quiet, Robby interrupts, “I didn’t drive the TX today; I took the pickup. Tanner has the Lexus. Tanner has the Lexus.” As that settles hard on Jack’s shoulders, Robby grips him by the arms, fingers digging in, and asks, “Did they say the plate on the scanner?”

Jack’s stomach turns as he whispers back, “JKA-”

The blood drains from Robby’s face as he turns around, jogging out of earshot before Abbot can even finish. Dana looks curiously at Jack and clarifies, “Someone’s borrowing Robby’s car and crashed it? Who’s Tanner?”

“Tanner’s his oldest daughter,” Jack explains, barely able to move himself. His first goddaughter, who he helped deliver in the middle of a snowstorm during med school. “Robby’s wife always- She makes all of them go to Susanna’s soccer games and sometimes they let Tanner drive. I should- I should go out there and get ready. He’ll want me to take care of them if he can’t.”

Dana’s mind reels as two of her senior attendings run off.

Robby has always been incredibly private. Says it makes it easier for him to be the boss if nobody knows what’s going on at home or in his head. But, like everyone else at the hospital, she’d assumed he was a single hermit from the…everything about him. No wedding ring, no leaving early for parent-teacher conferences, nothing to make anyone believe he has a very, very full life at home. It’s surprisingly easy to keep things incredibly vague in an environment full of chaos and constant teaching, brushing off questions and never revealing anything. He wasn’t legally required to explain that his vacation time is for anniversaries, that his sabbaticals are paternity leave, that his strict adherence to leaving on time is to make it home for family dinners and helping the girls with math homework. So he didn’t. The one time he’d made a comment about kids – saying Jake was the son he never had – it made everyone think he didn’t have a family instead of the reality that, in fact, he was just drowning in daughters.

The transponder crackles again on her deck, repeating the message for the entire ED to prepare.

Multiple casualties in the field. Ambulances en route.

Dana yanks Shen to the nurse’s station as he’s strolling by, sipping his third coffee of the night. “John, you’re going to have to run point tonight, okay?”

“Is Robby-”

“His wife and daughters were in the crash, apparently. Don’t know if he’ll be working.” She takes a long breath and scans the shift board, mentally filling in gaps and making decisions. “We’re going to have to keep our shit together no matter what.”

Robby’s been in the ambulance bay with Jack for a count of 78 when the first two ambulances wail to a stop at the far end of the concrete, leaving plenty of room for the coming onslaught. He tries to process the scene in front of him. His brain seems to have shifted out of doctor mode. None of it makes sense. The EMTs are moving fast, too fast, for him to follow. The sirens and noises take over his mind. His heart slams over and over and it’s louder than anything else.

Seeing her dad before she sees him, Tanner launches out of the first ambulance. As the EMT tries and fails to grab her, she sprints toward the Pitt’s doors and tumbles into Robby’s arms, practically knocking the wind out of him with the force of her body. She's already babbling as he blinks hard to recognize her presence, “I’m so sorry, dad, I- I don’t know what happened and- and now the car is totally wrecked. I swear I used my blinker and checked my blind spot and-”

“Honey, hey, it’s alright.” He kisses the top of her head over and over, clutching her hair like he’s waiting for her to slip through his fingers. She’s the first thing that’s felt real since he heard about the incoming crash. Unable to release her, he assures, “None of that matters right now. We’ve got insurance; it’s just a hunk of metal. Now where are your sisters? Where’s your mom?”

She collapses into tears again and Robby holds her tight, heart slamming against his ribs as he scans the incoming ambulances while they stop and unload. The EMT gives Robby a pointed look and he nods, pulling back from Tanner and meeting her eyes. “You need to go back to the ambulance so they can check you out some more and decide what the hospital needs to do, okay?”

“What? No!” She clutches Robby’s sleeve in a stubborn hand and says, “I’m fine; I need to help you find everyone and make sure they’re okay.”

Robby’s stomach drops to his feet when she confirms what he’d feared; the accident had been on the way back from Susanna’s soccer game, all the Robinavitch girls in the stands cheering her on.

Which means you were in the car.

You were all in the car.

His whole world in that $90,000 pile of crumpled metal he’d bought for you because it was the safest SUV on the market last year.

Robby takes one slow, deep breath. It’s time for him to be brave for his girls, no matter how impossible that feels. He cups Tanner’s cheek and insists again, “Sweetheart, you need to go with the EMT now. So many invisible things can happen during accidents and- and I need to know you’re safe. I need to know where you are. Everyone else is going to be coming right here, okay? You don’t have to look for them; you just have to listen to the doctors and do what they say.” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and urges,  “Please, T. I promise I’ll come find you as soon as I know anything. I love you.”

Tanner nods slowly and sniffles back her unending tears. “I love you, too, Dad.”

She hasn’t said that in a long time – too ‘grown up’ and easily embarrassed – and Robby’s heart splinters even more. His brave girl, his first baby, who’s always tackled the world head-on, is scared and small and searching for his strength. He gives her one more hug before sending her away while another set of ambulances arrives.

Then pieces of his world start to roll by on gurneys. Everything moves in slow motion while Robby stands there in the bay, useless, not a doctor right now. Evie goes by first, her eyes open and frantic but her head held down with a strap across her bloody forehead. Suspected concussion. She makes eye contact with Robby but doesn’t speak, rolled by too fast for either of them to process. Then it’s three strangers in various states of distress and injury. And then Susanna, tiny and frail in her green soccer uniform when she’s usually larger than life. She’s not conscious as far as Robby can tell and that’s what brings him back to the present.

Robby unfreezes and follows the gurneys even though his legs feel like lead. Suddenly Jack’s by his side again and he’s talking rapid-fire and Robby isn’t hearing anything as the EMTs start telling him what’s going on. All he can see is the unnatural angle of Susanna’s shin, cracked and bleeding, and something sharp sticking out of her abdomen. The lack of expression on her face. He can’t stop picturing Daisy, so small despite being overdue, and her ‘baby on board’ sticker on the back bumper that wouldn’t do anything but let them find her body faster than-

No.

No, don’t go there.

He hasn’t even realized he’s stopped moving, Evie’s gurney going through the floppy doors toward the imaging wing. He’s still floating in space, lost and out of orbit with his family flung on different paths. Where’s Maggie? She probably would’ve been in the front seat, always fighting over getting to sit there. Multiple casualties in the field. Robby can’t breathe. Where are you? Where’s Daisy? Multiple casualties in the field. There are too many people here and it’s too loud and too bright. And he sees Susanna on the other side of the ED, conscious now but wailing in pain and covered in blood and surrounded by Robby’s students. The sound of her pain alone is enough to strangle him. 

Jack’s hand crashes across Robby’s face.

Hard.

Ears ringing, skin burning.

Jack’s eyes are serious and dark and urgent. “Stay with me, brother. We need you right now. Your girls need you.”

Robby can barely form a coherent sentence and he feels his knees starting to give. He’s only seen half his family alive so far. And he can’t think about anything else. His voice sounds foreign, far away, aching.  “Where’s Maggie and where’s- where’s-”

Jack guides him to the ground instead of trying to keep him on his feet. “Breathe, Michael. Breathe.” His pager is going off non-stop; he’s needed for another trauma, another body, another family falling apart. He shoves his water bottle into Robby’s arms and says, “We’ll send someone with an update about everyone as soon as we can. I know this is a fucking nightmare right now, but I swear I’ll-”

“Dr. Robinavitch?”

It’s Mohan, who looks even more scared and unsure than Robby, holding six clipboards stacked on top of each other.

Six.

Six charts.

Six people.

Robby’s chest finally begins to loosen. Six charts means six living patients. No matter what, you’re all here. You’re all in his hospital being cared for by his people.

Mohan goes on, “I’m so sorry, but we need you to sign some consents so that we can-”

Robby takes the clipboards and pen from her hand. He swallows hard and manages to find Dr. Robinavitch somewhere inside the shrapnel of his gut. “Walk me through it, kid.”

Jack gives one more squeeze to Robby’s bicep and then jogs back across the ED to wherever he’s needed next as Mohan joins Robby on the floor instead of asking him to stand up. She could use the moment of rest, too. “I’m really sorry it’s me talking to you instead of someone more senior, but they’re all busy with-”

“Walk me through it,” he repeats, “like any other family member, alright?”

She whispers, “You’re not any other family member.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll critique your bedside manner after.”

“That might help,” she admits with a nervous laugh. “Okay. We’ll go from most to least urgent.”

“Good. Take the consents from me as you get them; never waste time.”

Mohan swallows and nods. “The car was hit squarely on the passenger side. Margaret-”

“Maggie.”

“Her, ah, her school ID says Margaret. Maggie was sitting in the area of highest impact, and her injuries correspond with that. She’ll need multiple casts, but, ah, but the big thing is that we need to start a craniotomy right away. She has a brain bleed known as an intracerebral hemorrhage; we need to drain the bleed and repair the vessels.”

Robby goes white and sweaty. His brain switches into autopilot because he can’t dare process how serious that is. What it could mean. How, in a few hours, he may not have five daughters anymore. “We can’t do a stereotactic aspiration?”

“Unfortunately, the size and location of the bleed rule out less invasive treatment methods. We need to be aggressive in treating this.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Your delivery. Good.” He scribbles his signature across five pages on Maggie’s chart. Samira runs it to central and the machine of the hospital takes over. “Next.”

Mohan continues on, fatigue thick in her voice, “When it comes to Evelyn-”

“Evie.”

Mohan gives a sad sort of smile. “Right. Evie. She was sitting directly behind Maggie, so she got the next most impact. There’s still lots of imaging to do, but we’re looking at a myriad of fractures, mostly minor, but she does have a break in one of her forearm growth plates that could impact long-term development of the limb.”

“A little stiff, Samira,” Robby tells her. “Try again.”

“One of Evie’s breaks could lead to her arm growing abnormally, so we’ll need to monitor that closely over the next year. Most growth plate fractures do heal normally, though.”

“Better. Other breaks?”

“On the right side of her body, she has different levels of fractures from her shoulder down to her hip, essentially. We’ve located four fractured ribs, a break in her collarbone, and several through her wrist and forearm. One of the consents is for an ortho specialist to come down and fit her for a custom cast; she’s going to have to be out of school for a while.”

Robby sighs and rubs his hands over his face. Exhaustion weighs his features down, but there’s nothing he can do except go through. He signs.

It feels never-ending as Mohan continues, “Susanna is conscious, responsive, and generally in good condition, but she’s going to need surgery to remove multiple foreign bodies and to set the bones in a complex tibial fracture.”

The part of his brain that wants to teach is keeping him occupied from the horror of it all, stabilizing his voice and increasing his focus. Dr. Robby asks absently, scratching away at each form, “What are the foreign bodies? You should usually just say the object if it isn’t privileged or, y’know, embarrassing.”

“It’s mainly glass pieces. The largest is a few inches, but there are a lot of smaller shards. It’s going to be an intricate debridement.”

“Which means?”

“It’s going to be a lengthy, very precise surgical process to ensure we successfully remove all pieces,” she corrects, letting out a relieved breath when Robby nods his approval. “We’re very lucky that there don’t seem to be punctures to any of her organs, but we won’t know for sure about some of the larger pieces until we have a sterile field.”

Robby looks up at Mohan for the first time since she started. “How’d she get punctured by so much glass from the backseat?”

“The sunroof fell inward under the weight of another vehicle,” she explains quietly. Mohan stills Robby’s shaking hand and tells him, gentle and human, “The EMT told me that she was in the lowest impact part of the car. Her injuries were sustained after the crash.”

Robby’s brow furrows. For the first time, he actually doesn’t follow. “What does that mean?”

Mohan touches his shoulder, comforting and sure, as she explains, “Susanna maneuvered herself however she could over the baby’s car seat when she saw part of the car about to collapse. She knew her leg would get crushed and that she was going to get covered in glass. But she moved to save the baby’s life.” Wiping a quick, unexpected tear from her cheek, Mohan murmurs, “You should get her an ice cream or something for that.”

Robby gets choked up. When did he start crying? The sob is aching. How could he have raised someone so brave she would do that? So brave she would put her life on the line? Scared and hurt and seven years old and already saving lives. When Mohan gives the next chart to Robby, he steadies himself with a few deep breaths.

“For the other three, I just need some basic forms signed.”

“Thank god,” Robby mutters, flipping through the pages and signing haphazardly. He always cringes when family members don’t take the time to look at their consents, but now all he cares about is getting this done. Getting to his family.

“Tanner mainly has soft tissue injuries – bruises, some sprains – and she needed stitches on a few cuts. Otherwise, she was incredibly lucky. My main concern for her is psychological; it’s incredibly difficult for such a new driver to feel safe again after something like this. She’s going to be dealing with a lot of guilt. Make sure she gets the help she needs as soon as possible.”

“That’s a good thing to say, kid. Really good. A lot of doctors would skip that.” Robby makes a mental note to ask his therapist for recommendations for an adolescent specialist. Then he asks, softer than Samira’s ever heard her boss, “My wife? The baby?”

“Daisy was in the low-impact zone as well, thankfully, and clearly your wife’s a pro mom because she was properly secured to protect her head and neck. We only suspect a concussion, which is really the best possible outcome for an infant so young in an accident this serious. We have her in a private room for observation.” At last, Samira smiles, just happy to have a little good news to share. “And your wife is over there with her. We took some imaging and bloodwork to be safe, but for now the worst seems to be a few minor lacerations from helping the girls.”

Robby sighs, gratitude and grief in equal measure through his body. “Can I head up there and see them now?”

“Of course, Dr. Robby. Room six,” she tells him, trying to seem sure. “Keep your pager on; we’ll keep you updated on everyone’s treatment.”

“Thanks, Samira. Good job.”

Before she can say anything else, he’s jogging across the ED floor, dodging gurneys and triage stations and questions. The pediatric rooms have never felt so far away, but his legs manage to keep carrying him even as every step shakes.

The hospital is quieter with each foot away from the chaos of the emergency room. The moment he pulls open the door to pediatric six, that eerie quiet is replaced by the most wonderful sound he’s ever heard. Singing.

It’s you.

It’s you and you’re holding his kicking and screaming and beautifully alive baby in your tired arms.

Sitting on the loveseat that overlooks the infant-sized vitals setup Daisy's been removed from to nurse, you gaze up at him with so much emotion in your expression. Relief, he realizes. Relief that he’s here with you. You’ve been crying and so has he, all your eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He surges forward as you whimper, “Michael.”

Your breathless voice is a mitzvah in and of itself. Robby falls to his knees in front of you and presses his head into your thighs and feels the realness and the life of you. Daisy is screaming her little head off and it’s pure music, the melody of her lungs working and her heart beating. Robby envelops you both on the loveseat, taking the baby’s weight from you, and weeps.

And weeps.

Late that night, you try to sleep with your head on Michael’s shoulder on the couch in Maggie’s and Evie’s shared hospital room. Susanna’s fast asleep, her head in your lap, neon green leg cast propped up, mouth lolling open. Daisy is in a hospital bassinet with Jack watching over her. Visiting hours are over, but it turns out some people are willing to look the other way for the chief attending and his family.

Tanner hasn’t left Maggie’s side since she came out of surgery. The doctor had spoken too fast to you and Robby out in the hallway, leaving Tanner straining to hear even snippets. Brain bleed. Surgery as successful as possible given the extent and severity. No timeline on when she’ll wake up. If she’ll wake up.

If.

It’s the worst word Tanner’s ever heard.

You’re the only one awake to hear what Tanner’s whispering, over and over, to her little sister: “I’m sorry, Mags. I’m so sorry. Please wake up. Please, please forgive me.”

Part Three: Thank You

You’ve been home for five days now with Daisy and Susanna, doing almost nothing but sleeping, eating, pumping, and crying. Jack’s been staying over, too, helping out with making the house accessible for Susanna and for Evie when she’s able to come home.

In the evening, you hear the garage open and close.

You look up at Robby with broken hope in your eyes. Did Maggie wake up?

He shakes his head.

You tilt your head to the side. Is Tanner with you?

He shakes his head again and crawls onto the couch next to you, taking Daisy onto his chest and breathing slowly until he can speak. His fingers twine with yours as he tells you, “Evie can come home tomorrow if we’re ready.”

“We’re ready,” you reply, somehow still sounding eager in your constant exhaustion. “Jack and I finished with her new bedroom setup downstairs today.”

“Good. That’s good.” Robby kisses the side of your head and murmurs, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything and then some,” he replies softly. Daisy grips his beard with her grabby hands and he lets her, smiling sleepily at her wide eyes. He brushes some of her wispy dark curls and adds, “Thank you for this perfect baby. Thank you for our family. Thank you for-”

“I already spent the whole day crying, Michael,” you cut him off, wiping your wet cheeks. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Never doubted it for a second.” His warm brown eyes flick over to you before returning to Daisy’s, a mirror of his own. “I love you so much. All of you.”

Jack appears in the living room archway, silhouetted by the hall light. “Susanna’s out after four grueling rounds of Slow Mo The Soccer Sloth. Now give me that baby and go to bed.”

Robby frowns. “I just got her. Wait your turn.”

“Nuh uh,” Jack protests, stretching out his arms for his tiny niece. “You have access to cute baby time whenever you want; this is my vacation. You need to rest with your wife. The kid and I will enjoy Goodnight Moon on our own, thank you very much.”

Robby nods and hands off Daisy, who immediately yanks Jack’s earlobe. Bless him for not minding or complaining.

As Robby helps you to your feet, you start to tell Jack for the hundredth time, “There’s fresh breastmilk in-”

But Jack raises his hand to cut you off. “I’m a pro, mama, don’t worry. You two get as much sleep as you can; I’ve got breakfast set, too.”

“You’re an angel,” you sigh sweetly, giving both Daisy and Jack a kiss on the cheek. “You should think about switching careers.”

He smiles as Daisy gives him a wide-eyed, wondrous giggle. “If I could make six figures entertaining this munchkin, I’d consider it.”

Robby clasps his shoulder and says, voice deep and true, “Thank you, Jack. You know how grateful I am for you?”

Jack nods slowly and then gives Robby a one-armed hug. “Yeah, I do. Get some sleep, brother.”

As Jack takes the baby to the kitchen to warm up her next bottle, Robby walks just behind you up the stairs. Even though you’ve felt totally fine since day three, Robby continues to be protective, keeping a hand low on your back to stabilize you. He helps you get ready for bed and you let him dote and spoil, savoring his adoration and tenderness.

While Robby works lotion into your back, sitting behind you in bed, you ask him, “Did Tanner say anything today?”

“Not to me,” he replies softly. “Dana told me that she took a shower and ate all the food the nurses brought her, so that’s good.”

“Still talking Maggie’s ear off?”

“About everything and anything,” he confirms. “If I were in a coma, listening to Tanner talk about Luke’s cute butt when he plays lacrosse would definitely wake me up so I could puke.”

You let out a barking laugh and slap his thigh hard. “Michael!”

Pressing his forehead to the curve of your shoulder, he mutters, “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Me too. How long do we let her stay at the hospital?”

“Until Maggie wakes up.”

“What if-”

He shakes his head and snakes his arms around your stomach, insisting, “Until she wakes up.”

“Okay. Until she wakes up.” You turn around, adjusting so you’re in his lap instead of between his legs, and time your breaths with his. “She’s a good sister.”

“Yeah, she is. They’re all so good. Like their mother.” He kisses your forehead and then holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You ready to go to bed?”

With a slightly pained look, you sigh and nod.

Robby sees right through you, of course. Twenty years together will do that. “What is it?”

You sigh and admit, “My boobs are swollen and my haakaa is downstairs and my baby is having a bottle in her nursery.”

Robby chews on that for a second and then smirks a bit. His cheeks going red, he rubs your back and says,  “It’s funny; I feel like it would be weird to offer to suck on your nipples like I haven’t done it a million times before.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not sure,” he replies. As you lift your tee up and toss it to the side, baring your naked breasts to him for the first time since the accident, he mutters, “Something about it being wrong to think about your boobs while our kids are-”

You shut him up with a kiss, warm and firm and begging. “My therapist told me this morning that it’s more important than ever to focus on our relationship.” As Robby groans, throwing his head back so you can kiss up his neck, you breathe out, “She said that couples who prioritize intimacy during stress and tragedy have significantly reduced rates of divorce.”

He almost laughs. “Were you worried about us getting divorced?”

“No, obviously,” you huff as Robby tugs his own shirt off and begins kissing across your chest, staying a few inches away from where you need most. “I just missed you. I need you. We need each other.”

Gripping your hips and grinding up against your ass, he teases, “So this ‘swollen breasts’ thing was just a ruse to get me to pay attention to you?”

You give him a conspiratorial smile and suggest, “How about you start sucking and find out?”

Amid your teasing and gasping and knowing, Robby finds a perfect escape in worshipping every healing inch of your body. The intimacy is a lifeline, an anchor, a need. It lets him sleep. Lets him rest.

You wake with a start to the sound of Robby’s phone. His hand shoots out to stop the piercing sound as you groggily flip to your side. He mutters, speech thick and slurred with sleep, “It’s the hospital.”

He turns on speaker phone and a woman’s clear voice comes through: “Dr. Robby?”

With the phone on his chest, Robby rubs his hands over his face and sighs as you snuggle up against his arm, “Mohan? What is it?”

“Maggie’s awake.” Without saying a word, Robby launches out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and starts snatching clothes for both of you from the closet. While he’s shimmying on sweats and brushing his teeth, Samira asks, “Robby? You still there?”

You pick up the phone with teary eyes as Robby pelts a cozy sweatshirt at you. “Yeah, he’s- he’s getting ready to go. We’ll be there soon. Is she scared?”

“No, actually.” You hear the tentative smile in her voice. “I think Tanner’s got that covered.”

That makes your heart so warm it might burst. “Thank you, Dr. Mohan.”

While tugging on shoes, Robby asks, “Is there anything we need to know about her condition before we get there?”

“She wants to see her sisters,” Samira replies tenderly. Then, she adds, “And she’s asking for pancakes.”

Dressed now, you ask her, “Can we have those ordered to the hospital?

“I think we can make that happen, Mrs. Robinavitch.”

An hour later, you’re all hugged and cried out while Maggie examines herself in the handheld mirror Samira offered her. Robby’s next to her, unable to stop touching her arm or her back to prove to himself she’s awake and alert. You’re at the end of the bed with Daisy knocked out on your chest and Susanna’s between Maggie’s legs, half-asleep but smiling. They even helped Evie transfer to her new transport chair so she could hold Maggie’s hand.

With a teary pout, Maggie observes, “They shaved half my head.”

“You had a pretty serious surgery,” Robby sighs, rubbing her back and once again checking over the intense line of staples holding her scalp together. “You’ve got battle scars now.”

“It looks badass,” Tanner tells her, expression serious and full of a kind of agony Robby had hoped he could protect her from forever. Then she pulls her dark hair up and reveals the undercut she’d given herself in the hospital bathroom four days earlier, claiming she knew it would help. It’s choppy and you know you’re going to have to clean it up with her dad’s electric clippers, but the way Maggie stares at it does wonders. “Look, I did mine, too.”

Maggie breaks into a small smile as she reexamines her hair in a new light, this time envisioning herself being the girl with the undercut and survival story. “Badass.”

After a few moments of silence, she sets the mirror down, chews on her words for a second, and then tells Tanner, “One of the last things I remember is fighting with you. I don’t ever wanna fight like that again. Not if- not if it’s the last thing we might get to talk about.”

Tanner shakes her head vehemently and replies, “I’ve been thinking about that too, Mags. And I- I wanted to say thank you for being so annoying. Thank you for fighting with me.” Tanner laughs through tears, brushing Maggie’s hair out with careful fingers to avoid tugging her scalp staples, absently braiding it just to be with her sister. “I get now that you bug me because you want my attention and that you want my attention because you think I’m-” her voice breaks but she keeps smiling through it “-you think I’m worth something. So thank you.”

Maggie winces as she pulls Tanner into a tight hug. “Let’s keep fighting forever, then, okay?” Then she turns to Susanna and Evie and points to them like a Disney villain. “And don’t think the two of you are getting out of that, either.”

You and Robby make knowing eye contact over your daughters’ heads. Ten thousand more quiet mornings interrupted with screaming matches.

You can’t imagine anything better.

Part Four: I Love You

The next morning, Robby’s going over a mountain of discharge paperwork with Dana as she finally scoffs and shakes her head. “Five daughters, huh, cap?”

He just smiles and shakes his head, expression fond. “Yup.”

“A 16-year-old and a three-month-old?” She looks down the bridge over her nose, over her glasses. “At the same time?”

“Yup.”

“How many of them did you plan?”

Robby cuts her an amused, almost conspiratorial glance. “Two.”

“So did you need someone to explain how condoms work? We’ve got that sexual health presentation series coming up for the local middle schoolers; it’s a popular show, but I bet I could swing you a ticket.”

“Alright, alright.” Robby crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the nurse’s station. “Look, we had Tanner way too young. I wasn’t even out of med school, but we decided to figure it out. Thought we were done after Maggie, but sometimes you take your wife on a trip for your ten-year anniversary and the timezones make her forget the pill and, y’know, Evie happened. We thought she should have a sibling closer to her own age.”

“And the new baby almost a decade later at, what, 45? Another accident?”

Robby shrugs and tells her, “I thought we were way too old for another baby, too, but…Well, look at her. Look at them.”  He gestures affectionately at you across in the waiting room, nursing Daisy while Susanna sleeps with her head on your shoulder. Tanner’s pushing Evie around until she laughs and Maggie’s giving the directions. All his girls getting antsy, ready to go home. You catch his gaze and give him a wink. Robby squeezes Dana’s shoulder and explains, “You find a woman like that and there’s no such thing as an accident. There’s only love that keeps growing.”