Pastelafterdark

The emergency room never stopped moving, no one ever really expected it to either, you were the number one trauma center in Pittsburgh, Gloria didn’t let you forget it. 

As a charge nurse, you were already underestimated for being a charge nurse, or a nurse in general. You were in control in every aspect, family, work - you were always strategic with your career choices as you knew it had an impact on where you would one day be - here in what is referred to as the pitt. 

Monitors beeped in uneven rhythms, voices overlapped, footsteps echoed down too-bright hallways–but somehow, none of it touched you, not at work anyways, you couldn’t count the times you woke up mid-sleep to answer a call light that wasn’t actually within your apartment. You always moved through it like you were built for pressure.

Calm. Precise. Untouchable. 

'Hang the next bag' you said, already doing it before anyone responded. Part of it was the nursing shortage. The rest? New residents. Joy you caught on pretty quick with. Ogilvie on the other hand, you wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to put the bag upside down somehow with a hole in it opposite of where it needed to be. Smart. Freezes under pressure.

No hesitation. No wasted motion. 

Dr. Robby noticed that, he noticed everything. 

It was part of what made him good–his ability to step back, detach, observe instead of react. While others rushed, he calculated. While others spoke, he watched, and lately– 

He’d been watching you. Never in that way though, at least not obvious enough to others. 

Just enough to catalog, like the way you never checked your phone, if it was out, it always stayed face down like it didn’t belong in your hand at all. Anyone in the ER was on their phone at least some part of the day, even him. But you? Never, normally your apple watch but he observed at one point it only ever notified you of a text or call. Even the way you disappeared the second your shift ended–no small talk, no lingering. 

Like there was a version of you no one here was allowed to see. 

It didn’t sit right with him, not because it mattered. But because he couldn’t control it.

You didn’t notice him watching, or if you did–you didn’t show it. 

By the time your shift ended, like clockwork, you were already gone, you always were. Robby watched the doors swing shut behind you, jaw tightening just slightly before he looked away. 

‘Clocking out?’ someone asked.

‘In a minute’ he didn’t move. 

His apartment was dark when he got home.

Quiet. Controlled. Predictable. 

The opposite of everything he’d just left. He dropped his keys on his table near the door, rolled his shoulders once. Then again–-like he could shake the restlessness out of them. 

It didn’t work, it never did. 

The helmet sat exactly where he left it, he couldn’t take it to work anymore even when he rode his bike in. 

Black. Glossed. Reflective enough to hide everything. 

He stared at it for a second longer than necessary, then picked it up. 

He didn’t talk about this, didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t even fully define it to himself. It wasn’t about the attention, at least that’s what he told himself. But it was, because he was choosing when he was seen, and even more importantly–when he wasn’t. 

The camera was already set up. Minimal. Intentional. 

He didn’t need much, he never did. So the second the helmet slid into place–everything shifted.

No name. No face. No expectations. Just movement, deliberate, controlled, slow enough to make people watch, precise enough to make them stay. 

He didn’t rush, he didn’t perform like he needed approval, that wasn’t what pulled people in. It was the opposite–the feeling that he didn’t need them at all. 

His phone buzzed almost immediately, the notifications stacking faster than he could read them. Views climbing, comments flooding in, he didn’t open them, didn’t respond, just watching the numbers rise. 

Measured. Detached. But not unaffected.

Across the city, your phone lit up. 

Face down on your desk, buzzing once, then again, and again. At the hospital you never touched it. Never checked. Never slipped.

But here–In the quiet of your own space–you finally turned it over.

You paused. 

Because somehow, without knowing why, that account again, different this time. You couldn’t explain why–and you didn’t like that you noticed.

Robby pulled the helmet off slowly, breath steady, expression unreadable. But his mind–wasn’t. 

Because for the first time–

You’ve been a babysitter for John Winchester for a while now. Him and his youngest Sam had moved here over a year ago. Dean would occasionally stop by, but he owns a shop about three hours away. You couldn’t hide your attraction from the older Winchester if you wanted too. Although the age difference could play a factor that didn’t bother you. But you didn’t know from his end, so you kept your mouth shut about it.

The sound of something falling brings you out of your thoughts. Quickly getting up you see Adam standing with flour all over him, following that is Sam’s footsteps down the stairs. A light chuckle passes his lips, as you quickly step over the mess with a huff.

“What do you get yourself into?” The two year old simply looks up at you with a confused look, then a toothy grin plays across his face.

“Pancakes!” He yells at you, which causes you to laugh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first.” You playfully tap him on the nose, grabbing his hand. “Mind cleaning this up Sam?” With a quick nod of his head you head up towards the bathroom, turning on the water letting it warm up.

Once you feel the water get warm enough you help Adam undress and set him in the tub, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, pouring it over his hair. It doesn’t take you long to give him a bath this time around, which is surprising. But you quickly figured out why once he started fussing about being tired. Which leads you to the moment where you are sitting on the couch in the quiet house. Both the boys gone to sleep for the night and moments away from John getting home.

The lights of John’s car pulling in the driveway lights up the wall in the living room, giving you notice that he’s home. Easily gathering your stuff, which just includes your wallet and keys, you walk outside. He chuckles a bit, already half way up the sidewalk.

“I uh, actually needed to talk with you if you didn’t mind?” John speaks softly. With a quick nod of your head you walk back inside to the living room, but he gestures up the stairs, what you assume is the bedroom. Taking the steps one at a time, you make it quickly to his room, quiet enough not to wake up Sam or Adam.

Turning to him once you hear the door shut, he sits down on the bed.

“This is a long shot, and I have the money, but I didn’t know if uh. I’ve noticed the way you look at me.” He lets out a deep breath, the nervousness obvious in his voice. “Would you want a different payment? Shit that sounded wrong, not like you're a hooker or anything. Well you wouldn’t be getting money. Fuck I’m screwing this up.” He rubs a hand over his face, a soft chuckle passing his lips.

Before he starts speaking again, you walk over to him, placing a light kiss against his lips. Just enough to hear his breathing pick up, and the a glaze of lust taking over his eyes. Not even seconds later, your shirt is ripped off of you. Leaving you in just a bra and jeans, quickly standing up you begin unbuttoning and sliding the jeans off. Just as you get ready to unfasten your bra, he closes the distance between the two of you, making you notice at some point he stripped to his boxers.

“Are you sure? I mean the age…” John mumbles into the crook of your neck, as he trails kisses across your shoulder.

“Just shut up and show me what you got.” With a quick laugh and wink, you walk over to the bed, laying down on it. You unfasten your bra just as John climbs on the bed and covers your body with his.

He captures your mouth in a deeply heated kiss, not lightening up he thrusts his tongue into her mouth, consuming all of you. His hands covering what feels like every inch of your skin, gripping your ass, pulling your body closer, marking his claim on you with just his hands.

Your hands follow the curve of his back, learning his body for the first time. Managing to slide his boxers off, your hips begin to rock together. Both of you keeping quiet as possible not to wake either of his kids. Your thigh sliding against his, the coarse haired leg turning you on more than it should. The calloused finger tips melting your body into his.

John finally slides your panties off, one hand lacing your fingers together drawing the hand up over your head against the pillows, his other easily finding your clit. Not long after working you open with two fingers, easily slipping a third in with how wet you are. The wetness coating your thighs with every time they close to try and draw him in as close as possible.

After he works you open, he slides back up to look at you. Both mirroring the same look, lips parted, pupils dilated, lips slightly dilated and flush on both of your cheeks.

“John” falls out of your mouth like a whisper. Just as he moves in between your legs, them easily falling back open to make room for him.

“I’m not going to be able to hold back, babygirl.” He sounds breathless, taking in his appearance, the quick rising and falling of his chest. The slightly curved dick prominent against his stomach. The hint of a v-line that was once there.

Not moments later, he’s lining up with your entrance and driving himself in with one movement. Only giving you a moment to adjust before he’s settling into a quick pace. Moving one of his hands up under your knee, bending it up to your side. Easily giving John more access to drive into you and hit that desired spot inside of you.

Your moans pick up, his other hand coming to cover your mouth, resting there just enough to keep you quiet, but not hard enough to take him out of focus. After a few moments you move your hips up to meet his thrusts. Your body moving with each hard movement. Not slowing down, John follows your curves with his hands.

“Cum for me darlin’” He smirks softly, as if knowing your body perfectly. Not seconds later you feel the release wash over you, shutting your eyes and biting your lip just to keep yourself quiet.

He continues to thrust, they even pick up slightly before he's leaning over your body, shooting his own release into you. John lays on top of you for a moment before getting up and finding a wet washcloth to clean you both off with. Easily falling asleep, you don’t notice him climbing into bed and pulling your body close to his.

Waking up in the morning to the smell of bacon, you notice the empty space next to you and the alarm on the nightstand reading 6:24 AM. Finding one of John’s shirts and slipping it on you make your way down the stairs. Noticing Sam and Adam already eating and John at the stove making more food. John points at the glass of milk on the counter, giving you a soft smile. Taking a drink of the milk, you set the glass back down, turning towards the boys.