DR ROBBY

THE SECOND TIME the opportunity to flirt comes in the form of a hangover check when she inevitably calls off because exhaustion and liquor just don't mix well. It's an embarrassing thing to admit as someone in training to become a doctor that she's terrible at managing her liquor, and yet when he texts to check in on her (as well as make sure she has his number, too), there's a part of her that's grateful she still hasn't learned to pace herself well enough.

The conversation is innocent enough at first, idle chatter about getting enough water and greasy food as a cure-all, seeing how the department is doing without her there (as if she holds that much weight as an almost R1). But fortune favors the bold, and only once she knows he should be off for the evening does she venture a more forward approach.

[ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Sent) : you know, something tells me that having a hangover at your place would've been a lot more manageable than having to deal with it all by my lonesome here 🥺

If it were possible, she would've sworn that the minutes slowed down to days after she hit send. How could she possibly think that was an appropriate thing to send to her superior? Being drunk and flirty one night is one thing; to turn his very kind, very professional message into an opening to suggest that she would've gone home with him?! Fuck the dehydration and migraine she'd been nursing all day; the anxiety of what was likely to come back, if he were to respond at all, was going to have her praying to the porcelain god.

When her phone vibrates beside her, her face is hidden beneath her pillow, and she can't manage to pick up the phone and look at it. Instead, she calls out to her roommate, holding the phone towards the other woman and simply asking, "Am I fired?" The laughter that answers her question first nearly sends Jessica into orbit. What the fuck could he have said that would've made her laugh? Her pillow is thrown at the other girl so she can snatch up her phone, an excited giggle pealing from her at his reply.

[ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Received) : guess we'll have to find out next time.

Fortune truly did seem to favor the bold.

THE THIRD TIME comes in the midst of a game of cat and mouse. While she enjoys having Robby's attention, there is a part of her that worries she might be straying into waters she's not sure she's capable of traversing. Especially not when she catches his gaze while following other attendings around, watching her as if trying to read her mind from across the floor. Their conversations have remained friendly, but not too friendly since her attempt at recovering with him rather than in her too-small apartment with her ex-musical theatre major roommate.

She doesn't miss the way another woman on the floor, someone from the administrative office apparently, has been lingering around him for longer than Jessica would've liked. But that was better for both of them, right? She's busy and distracted, and he's someone she should be looking to as a mentor, not to fool around with. Yet, when the woman's too-loud laugh at a joke cuts through the general din of the department, the redhead can't stop herself from intercepting Robby as he attempts to excuse himself from the conversation with a bright smile and a bullshit ask for help.

Leaning against the wall as Robby searched through the cabinet for the propranolol, she knew good and well wasn't there; she feigned nonchalance as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "You know, somethin' tells me she isn't a very good dancer." Only then does she glance over at him, a smirk playing her lips and a question lingering in her eyes that she really has no business asking. Wouldn't you prefer that to be me?

She fidgets with the stethoscope around her neck. Jealousy was a dangerous thing, and so was the impulse that she was currently battling against. They were at work, and while the corner they were in was secluded enough, the last thing she should be doing was lingering as close to Robby as she was. But, rules or not, she's a girl who knows what she wants and doesn't like the idea of having to share. So, she finds herself leaning just a little bit closer; all it would take is a little push, and her lips would graze his. "I think you should meet me after handoff, and we can revisit our dance, hmm?"

Blue eyes glance quickly at his mouth, then back up to his warm brown eyes, lips parting as if to say something else before opting to press together again. Not here, not right now. Her palms press against the wall she'd been leaning on, righting herself and heading back into the fray while calling over her shoulder, "Miss Dana has the order for more propranolol; can you ask Dr. Adamson to sign off on it? Thank you!"

THE FOURTH TIME Jessica has the wherewithal to flirt is much longer than she'd meant to wait. Long days and harder cases had begun to wear on the redhead, and while she was able to keep up with conversations over text message, she couldn't help the way her shine had been dulled a little in person. She's managing, but there have been too many cases that have either resonated a little too deeply or left her with a pit in her stomach and the type of guilt that grows with the new experience of the pressure being on her shoulders now.

She doesn't regret the choice to move into emergency for her first year of residency by any means. In fact, it was her time during her EM rotation that helped her to settle on where she wanted to focus her career. Residency was different, though, and the weight of it had begun to weigh on her. Add in that since graduation, her sister had decided to stay for the summer, which made spending multiple days on end at Robby's place not incredibly feasible.

She'd managed to stave off any sort of graduation celebration for a few weeks, citing moving into her residency and the change that that brought with it as too much to manage while also being put on the spot, but Eden did what younger siblings did best and just didn't listen. So, once the party had been announced, Jessica gave over a list of names and numbers of friends and colleagues she was willing to invite over, save for one. That person, she would invite personally.

[ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Sent) : hey you. . . I know I've been a little quiet lately, but I miss you [ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Sent) : my sister is throwing a graduation party at my place and I'd really love it if you'd come by [ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Sent) : no pressure. . . I'd just really like to see you outside of those glaringly white walls [ Robinavitch, M. ] (SMS Sent) : and I can promise that I'll be wearing something that is my way of apologizing for being out of sorts 😉

The embarrassment of not just double, but quadruple texting him has her stomach in knots. Even when he says he can swing by for a little bit, she feels rusty. But barely-there shorts and a top that leaves little to the imagination have her feeling more like herself than she has in weeks. So much so that when the buzzer rings, she holds the button down long enough to ensure that he's able to get into the building before taking off down the hallway to greet him once the elevator doors slide open. Here she's not nearly as concerned with onlookers, and so her arms are eagerly wrapped around his neck, the tip of her nose brushing against his as she giggled, "You're absolutely certain that I can't talk you into callin' out?" She smiled, her fingers running through his hair before she pulled away, giving him a little turn in the middle of her hallway. "I mean, come on, an outfit this good deserves an audience that's gonna appreciate it properly."

While there are plenty of moments after that party, THE FIFTH TIME worth noting comes with too many years and more heartache than either of them deserves. It comes in an in-between phase, questioning and testing to see if it's reciprocated. The shift had been a long one. Fortunately, nothing fatal, but busy in the way only the ED could be. As they walked side-by-side discussing anything but the way their day had gone, a familiar impulse left her hand flexing and stretching by her side.

Years ago, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. They were far enough from the hospital by now that they weren't likely to be recognized, the same markers she'd used back then jumping out to her now. The sub shop that meant she could walk a little closer to him, the liquor store that, as they rounded the corner of, meant they were out of prying eyes' distance.

While at first she'd been forward, daring and bold, to gain his affections, now there was a quietness that sought him out. A piece of home that she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge she'd left behind when she'd run from him. There were no silly outfits, no entendres to slip into conversation to bait him into a more heated conversation. Instead, it's one simple gesture that she prays isn't brushed away.