nyoooom

- what if Robby is well established in the Pittsburgh kink scene

- always had a streak that was interested in stuff like this but didn’t explore much until a guy he was seeing casually in med school introduced him to the scene in [insert city where Robby went to school— let’s say Chicago for ER’s sake]

- figured out getting flogged every other weekend is a pretty good outlet, actually

- so is getting tied up, having toys stuffed him him, maybe some pain stuff. It’s cool. helps him get out of his head for a minute. Insert anal hook here no pun intended

-knows the good clubs and the sketchy ones. met duke this way??? leather daddy bar??

- moves around partners pretty frequently but does have a man (or woman) he sees for when stuff gets Bad who’s very good at taking him apart during a defcon 1 ‘robinavitch needs to get topped’ emergency

- but not very good at putting him back together after

- enter dr. Jack abbot who I think is maybe at least aware of Robby’s proclivities? was never his bag— the idea of a Scene for sex does nothing for him, and he hasn’t really labeled any part of his sexuality as kinky per se— but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, he figures. not his business if his best friend he’s in love with needs to go work his shit out in like, a dungeon (this is what Jack sees in his head even though Robby’s just probably going to this other guy’s apartment in Lawrenceville)

- until there’s one too many nights where robby is a sub dropped mess spacing out on jack’s couch after a scene gone sour

- probably after Frank’s benzo bust, let’s be so for real

he retraces his steps, striding over to the bathroom in south, but he can see the little red flag on the door from fifteen feet away. so, he pivots again. darts over to the other one in north. but, when he gets there, someone's beating him to it. parker, who's about to close the door behind her. she glances over her shoulder.

'Ellis--'

'occupado,' she says, smugly, slipping inside.

robby think's he's gonna fucking cry. he feels like he may genuinely piss his pants. or maybe both at the same time. everyone's staring at him like he's an alien.

'don't look at me,' shen shrugs, taking a sip of a super gulp-sized iced dunkin', the absolute bastard.

he's debating busting out through the front entrance into chairs to use the bathroom out there, fuck everyone else, when jack's there. of course jack's there, with one warm hand on robby's shoulder.

'jack-- i--'

jack immediately steers him behind one of the heavy exam bed privacy curtains, closes it, and silently tosses him an empty plastic water bottle. to robby's later chagrin, he doesn't doesn't balk, or pause, just twists off the cap, rips open his fly, and lines up. jack's watching, standing there all stanced up, arms crossed. it sends a flush up robby's neck, knowing he's watching, but the rest of his body is too busy getting with the program of finally, finally being able to piss. jack watches him in silence until he laughs a little when robby moans, quietly, outright, at the agonizing release.

'woah, shit, brother, would've brought you a bigger one.'

'fuck you.'

'i'm serious, if you overflow, i'm sparing esme.'

'not an issue.' actually, it might be. shit.

'i could always open this curtain, you know.'

jack's giving him that dead-eyed poker face where he's fifty-fifty serious or joking.

robby huffs an incredulous laugh, shakes his head. 'you wouldn't dare.' he's still going. it was a long day. it feels so good he actually kind of feels high, maybe. finally, he tapers off, just inside the lip. very, very carefully, he twists the cap onto the bottle then tucks himself back into his scrubs.

jack gives him a long, appraising look. robby squirms, a little.

'next time, take five, man,' he says. 'the rest of us do.'

before robby can say anything, he yanks the curtain wide and walks out, leaving robby to stand there, face hot, full bottle of pee in his right hand even hotter.

whitaker walks by, backpack slung over his shoulder, headed home. he eyes the bottle meaningfully.