KAII

"This is Dr. Robinavitch."

"Robby?"

That was you on the other end he knew instantly, your voice small and tinny and sounding like you'd been crying.

Still, though, he was incredibly confused and your name tumbled from his lips in a rush, "Where're you calling me from?"

"The police station."

"Wh—? What happened? Are you okay?"

He heard your shaky breath, static in his ears like sand, "I'd rather not talk about it right now if you don't mind." Your voice sounded watery, like you were trying to swallow tears, but also slow and nearly slurred, "I hate to ask you for anything, but do you think you could come pick me up? They won't let me leave until I'm either sober or someone comes to get me."

Well, that explained the slurred speech, "You're drunk?"

There was a pause on the other end before you answered, "Very."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear as he searched for a pair of pants to pull on, "Yeah, I'm on my way."

You sighed in what he thought sounded like relief, "Thank you."

He had a million questions like why the fuck were you in a police station and where was Brian? Why was it him you'd called? Surely there had to be someone else, anyone else you'd call in a crisis? He wasn't upset about it, in fact, a small part of him was pleased that you were turning to him when you needed help. But after your last conversation, he just didn't understand why.

He drummed his fingers against his steering wheel anxiously as he pulled into the police station, hurrying into a near jog as he went inside.

When he told the officer at the desk he was there to pick you up, the man sighed and said he'd be back. He returned soon after with a bag of your things and Robby frowned.

"What did you take her in for?"

"Disorderly conduct," He said and then handed Robby a clipboard to sign.

Robby skimmed it quickly and signed at the bottom, "You took her things away and locked her up because she was publicly intoxicated? I work in an ER you usually just drop them to us if they're that drunk."

"She threw a glass bottle at a guy."

He frowned. Brian? Granted you were drunk, but what could he have done to piss you off so bad in one night that you'd throw a bottle at him?

A moment later, you were brought out, roughly tugging your arm away from the officer who led you out. Your eyes were swollen and puffy and you swiped your things from the counter on your way outside, never looking at Robby.

He followed you outside hesitantly, watching as you dug through your bag: first for your phone and then for a cigarette.

He leaned against his car next to you, hands shoved in his pockets, "Are you alright?" He asked as gently as he could manage.

You took a couple of drags of your cigarette before your face crumpled. Before he could move to comfort you, you doubled over and heaved the contents of your stomach onto the pavement.

"Ah, shit—" He muttered and then bent to your level, taking the still lit cigarette from your hands and rubbing your back.

And he realized pretty quickly that you weren't just vomiting, you were sobbing. You shrugged off the hand he'd put on your back in an attempt to comfort, still crying and now that the vomiting had passed, it looked like hyperventilating.

Reaching into his car he grabbed some napkins and bottled water. Opening the bottle, he poured some out on a napkin and held it in front of you, "To wipe your mouth."

After a moment you took the napkin from him, wiping down your face and then taking the opened bottle of water, beginning to chug it.

"Hey—hey—" He reached for the bottle and gently tugged it away from you, "Small sips or you're just gonna throw it up again."

After the two of you stood side by side for a while, you slowly sipping on the water, Robby broke the silence again, "Do you wanna talk about whatever happened?"

"The date was bad and I drank too much," You said, voice hoarse from the bile that had burned it just minutes ago, "I wanted to leave, but I was drunk and couldn't break from him and he took me behind the restaurant and tried to…" You trailed off and when he looked over at you, your chin was wobbling and your eyes bloodshot. It broke his heart, but he waited.

"I kneed him in the groin and he left me alone, but I think—I don't remember exactly, but I think he called me a cunt and spit at me—And so I threw the bottle at him." You breathed in slowly, "And then it turned out the police had been parked there the whole time."

Robby tried to swallow down the wave of protectiveness he felt. He didn't think that was what you wanted or needed right now, "So Brian's in there too?" He asked, nodding towards the station.

You laughed, "No. Apparently only my behavior was considered a threat to the public. He left of his own free will."

He slowly turned his head towards you, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

You shook your head, "Nope."

Robby scoffed and then pushed himself up off the car, feeling levels of righteous anger he hadn't felt in a long time, "Why don't you get in the car, I'm just going to have a quick talk with the officers inside—"

"Don't bother, Robby," You said, your voice sounding weary and exhausted, "It doesn't—It won't make a difference—I just wanna go, please."

He looked stubbornly from you to the police station. You did look exhausted and more sad than he'd ever seen you. He was used to seeing you angry and defensive, but right now you looked defeated. Vulnerable.

"Okay," He said, nodding, "Where do you want me to bring you?"

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, frowning and seemingly growing frustrated the more you thought about it.

"You still don't trust me with your home address?"

You shook your head, "No, no I just…" Your chin wobbled again and you looked up towards the moon, "I can't go home. Like this. I'll have to ex—I don't wanna go home."

There was something you weren't telling him there, but that wasn't exactly new so he just nodded, "Okay. I can… bring you to my house. I'll sleep on the couch."

This seemed to frustrate you as well until finally you sighed, "Okay. Fine."

When you got to Robby's place, he watched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, eyes wandering around his place, cataloguing.

"Do you want something to eat?" He asked.

As if waking from a trance, you slowly turned your attention back to him and shook your head, "No."

He nodded, and then gestured for you to follow him down the hall to his bedroom. He went into the ensuite bathroom, laid out an extra toothbrush for you and clean towels, then came back out to search his drawers for a clean t-shirt and pair of boxers.

But you were staring at his bed, eyes distant.

"I've changed the sheets," He said slowly, "Since Noelle was here. If that's what you were wondering."

You nodded, but remained quiet, avoiding eye contact with him. It scared him, how quiet you were. He'd never, ever seen you like this, bereft and despondent.

"You can take a shower if you want, you're welcome to anything in the bathroom," He placed a pair of boxers, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie on his bed in front of you, "Here are some clean clothes. I'm gonna grab you some Liquid IV, water, and ibuprofen. Do you want anything else?"

You blinked quickly and shook your head. He wished there was more he could do, that you would allow him to do more. But right now he wasn't sure what you were thinking at all. And so he quietly began to back out of the room—

"Robby?"

He looked up and you were looking at him with watery eyes, your arms still hugging yourself, "Thank you." You said softly.

He nodded, "Anytime."

***

You thought you wanted to be alone. You showered with soap that smelt like Robby and brushed your teeth with his spare toothbrush and got dressed in his clothes that also smelt of him. And when you came out to his bedroom, all of the things he promised you were sitting on his nightstand, bedroom door closed again.

You climbed onto his bed and crawled across it to reach the ibuprofen, knocking back some water and then reaching for the Liquid IV. You crawled into his sheets, turned off the bedside lamp, sat in darkness enveloped by his things and his smell and were surprised when you found it all comforting. That his presence all around you made you feel safe.

Maybe if you were feeling more yourself, you would have been more apt to interrogate the feeling. Maybe you would've been strong enough to resist it. But spending the night with someone who didn't understand you, to almost being assaulted, to being thrown in jail, all while trying to fight off an alcohol induced panic attack, you just wanted to give in.

You were tired of fighting it. Of fighting him. So after about forty five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you climbed out of the bed and padded out to the living room. You heard the familiar sounds of a Jeopardy! rerun as you rounded the corner and saw Robby sitting on the couch, glasses on his nose as he read something on his phone.

A floorboard creaked as you approached and he looked up immediately, "Hey," he said softly, placing his phone down next to him, "Do you need something?"

Wordlessly, you walked over to him and straddled his lap, burying your face in his neck and wrapping yourself around his body. He stiffened for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you in turn, leaning back into the couch as he held you to him. His warmth and the feeling of his chest expanding against yours immediately soothed you. After just a couple of minutes in silence, him holding you tightly against him, you could feel that sleep was going to overtake you soon.

"Will you come to bed?" You asked quietly, "I don't wanna sleep by myself."

"Sure," he said, his voice rumbling through your chest as he spoke, "Whatever you want."

You pulled back slightly, pressing your forehead against his, "But do you want to?"

His eyes roamed over your face and then his hands reached up to cradle your cheeks, thumbs running gently over your cheekbones, "Yes," he said eventually, "very much."

You got up out of his lap and held his hand as you led him back down the hall to his room. When he climbed in bed next to you, you scooted as close as possible, pressing your nose to his.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked after a few minutes, his thumb resting on your hip and rubbing lazy circles into the soft flesh there.

"Hm?"

"Why was it me you called tonight? After the way we left things earlier I thought I'd be the last person you'd call."

You almost laughed, "Truthfully, I had no other choice. They took my phone and told me I wasn't allowed to call anyone unless I knew their number by heart. But I found your business card you gave me when we were in Jamaica in my pocket with your cell number on it."

"Ah," he said sounding disappointed, "Okay, that makes more sense."

"But I'm glad I called you," you said quickly, "I'm glad I'm here."

"This wasn't how I wanted you to finally take me up on my offer to stay the night."

"No," you nudged you nose into the crook of his neck, "me neither."

He stroked absently at the back of your head for a few moments, "I'm sorry the date with Brian went badly."

You chuckled, "You don't feel vindicated?"

"No, I—No. I know we argue, but you looked absolutely devastated when I picked you up. I know not just because of Brian, but I—" He sighed, "What I'm trying to say is that even though we butt heads and I know I can be a dick, I… care about you. I don't like seeing you upset. I've never seen you like that and I— to be honest with you, it scared the shit out of me."

His admission struck a chord in you and you pulled back again to see his face in the dark.

He cared about you. Your fingers ran aimlessly over his cheeks and beard. It was funny to hear him say it. He didn't even know you, not really. He only knew the select pieces of you you'd decided to give.

He didn't care about you, he cared about the version of you you'd created specifically for his consumption.

But still, you'd let yourself pretend, if only for tonight.

"Thank you," you whispered and pressed your mouth to his, "I'm not always very kind to you, either."

He kissed you back for a moment or two before pushing your face gently to the side so he could kiss your cheek instead, "I like when you're mean," he pressed an additional kiss to your temple, "Go to sleep, now."

In his arms, sleep came quickly and held you in its grip the whole night through.

***

Your alarm was trilling, shattering the morning tranquility. At some point in the night, you'd turned onto your side and Robby's arm snaked around your waist like a vice. As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you felt his deep breaths lightly fan your neck.

You hummed softly as you woke, wiggling your hips in an attempt to free yourself of his grip.

"Turn it off." Robby mumbled into your neck,

"Gladly, if you'd free me from the cage that is your arms."

Robby's laugh rumbled behind you, "Can't you turn it off without abandoning me?"

You felt heat spread up your neck and to your cheeks, "So dramatic." You scoffed and pulled lightly at his arms again, which he removed from your waist, though he whined the entire time.

With your phone in your hand, you turned off the alarm and Robby immediately tugged you back to him, eliciting a quiet oof.

When you saw the time, 9AM, you quietly cursed. Neither of you were working today, but you needed to get home so Cecelia could leave. You'd promised her you'd be home by 8AM the latest if you stayed out, but in the chaos you'd forgotten to adjust your alarm the night before.

"What's wrong?" Robby mumbled, and then when you threw the covers off yourself and started to climb out, he groaned an indignant, "Hey!"

"Sorry, I really have to go." There were several unread texts and missed calls from Cecelia on your phone and you were trying not to overreact, mostly because you didn't want to betray anything in front of Robby. Anymore than you had the previous night when you were drunk. Sober, now, you were already beginning to regret calling him. You should have toughed it out in jail.

"Okay," He stretched in bed, arms reaching towards the headboard and his t-shirt rode up slightly as he did. With effort, you tore your eyes away, "Let me drive you."

Scrolling through Cecelia's texts quickly, there was nothing about your dad in them. She just wanted to know where you were. Quickly, you texted her back apologizing and let her know you were on your way home.

"That's okay, I'll just call an Uber."

He scoffed, "We're back to this, now?"

You sighed as you walked around the room, gathering your things, "Thank you for picking me up last night and letting me stay here, but I shouldn't've—I think the boundaries we have are good. I don't want to ruin anything—"

"You stayed here last night and the world didn't end. I don't understand what the problem is."

At this, you laughed, "Yes, I think you've made it abundantly clear you don't understand and haven't from the second I walked into PTMC."

"Maybe I'd be more understanding if you ever actually explained anything to me."

You ran your hands over your face in frustration, "We keep going around in circles, Robby, aren't you exhausted?"

"No," He shook his head and sat up, watching as you walked around the room, "I could keep going all day."

When you turned back to him, he had a closed lip smile. He was enjoying this. Asshole.

His hair was mussed and the sleep still hung heavy around his eyes, making him look soft, younger. If you were honest, you wanted to crawl back in his arms and make out with him, slow and messy. You wanted his hands under your shirt, playing with your nipples until you whined and ground down onto him. You wanted him to crawl between your legs, licking you slowly and tenderly, an arm firmly bracketing your hips to keep you from squirming, his warm brown eyes looking up at you drenched in desire—

Clearing your throat, you looked away. Frankly, you thought you'd be bored of him by now. But every time you saw him, it reignited the embers in your chest, fire spreading through your veins. It was becoming evident that this was more than just sex, now.

"Thank you again for coming to get me and letting me stay, I really mean that. It was—Well, it was very nice of you."

You heard him laugh behind you, "You say it like you're shocked I could be nice to you."

"I'm not shocked," You lied, slinging your bag over your shoulder, "Men that are regularly sleeping with me are typically nice to me. I'm a great lay."

You tried to instill your words with as much false confidence as possible, but as his eyes scanned your face, a hand scratching lightly at his beard, you got the sense that he knew you were a fraud.

He nodded and finally broke your gaze, "Just let me drive you home, alright? I won't show up unannounced, ever, I promise."

You really couldn't afford the Uber right now. You bit your lip before groaning, "Fine. But we have to go now."

When Robby pulled outside your house, he leaned over the center console first to examine it. It was a mid century, two story home built of brick and slanted roofs. The yard was in need of being mowed and the rest of the landscaping wild and unkempt.

"You live here?" He asked, a note of confusion in his voice. You figured his confusion likely came from the price range of this neighborhood. You assumed he knew Pittsburgh well and this neighborhood was known for upper middle class families settling down in the eighties. It wasn't somewhere a single woman in her thirties lived by herself on a nurse's salary.

"Yes," You said, and looked towards the house. As you did, Cecelia opened the door, the two dogs running past her and into the yard, barking at Robby's parked car.

"Whose that? Those dogs yours, too?"

"I'm done answering your questions," You said, turning back to him, grinning. You pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, felt him continue to lean in even as you pulled away, "Thank you again. I'll wash your clothes and bring them back—"

"Don't bother," he said, voice husky as he gripped your chin between his fingers, "I like the way they look on you."

You hated the way your stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice. You pressed your lips together and narrowed your eyes at him, "Okay. I'll see you at work."

"Not sooner?" He asked, his tone light and teasing. You both were off the next couple of days, but you'd be back a day sooner than he would.

You hummed, "Goodbye, Robinavitch."

As you jumped out of the car, the dogs ran up to you, pouncing up and down around you as their tails wagged.

"Hello boys," you cooed, running your hands over each of their heads in turn as you walked towards Cecelia, "Mr. President," You said, mocking formality, "and Mr. Vice President. Did you miss me?"

They trotted up after you onto the stoop until you stood in front of Cecelia, "I'm sorry," you said immediately, "It was… Not the night I anticipated, I should've texted or called."

But Cecelia was frowning, looking from the oversized clothes on your frame to the car still parked out front, "Whose clothes are these?" She pulled at your sleeve, "You said the EMT was a young guy, but that looks like an old man from here."

You clicked your tongue as you walked past her into the house, the dogs running quickly along your legs back in, "Cecelia, I didn't know you were such a neb-nose."

She pointed her finger accusatorily, "You take that back, I am not nebby. I just worry about you since your last relationship, I just think someone your own age would be better for you."

You sighed, "Yes, well, I tried. Date sucked."

She shook her head, "And you ended up in someone else's bed?"

"You know I love you," You said quietly, "But I really don't want to discuss my love life with you."

You felt her stare, both judgmental and motherly, as you pretended not to notice, "Fine. I'll stay out of it." She said, throwing her hands up emphatically. She wouldn't stay out of it, you knew, but you appreciated the well meaning lie.

"How has he been?"

"He's good," She said sincerely, smiling, "He's playing chess with Tim."

Tim was Cecelia's husband. You smiled, "Really? He hasn't played in months."

She nodded and gestured for you to follow her. Down the hall, the low voices of two men floated down the hallway.

You were delighted to find your father and Tim sat at the table by the big window in the piano room, sun warming their faces. And your father was smiling and laughing, even as his hand shook while he moved a board piece.

"Oh, look, the girls have joined us," Tim said jovially. He grew up in Wisconsin and had this dynamic, magnetic personality. The first time you met him you knew immediately why Cecelia loved him. He balanced her.

It was a good day for your father, it seemed, because when he looked at you you could tell he recognized you. He fumbled for your name, but got it eventually, and while he told you about his day, said he was happy you stopped by to visit, you found yourself getting misty eyed. Again, this was the kindest you could recall him being with you since you were very small.

What was it about fathers who lost interest in their daughters once they reached adolescence? The overnight change to full blown femininity too detestable to look past.

You had full journals probably still tucked beneath these floor boards lamenting reasons why he would not, or could not love you the way you needed. And now, when you had well and truly given up on childhood fantasies of unconditional parental love, the plaques in his brain had progressed in such a way that he couldn't quite remember you fully, but he still knew he loved you.

All this time and underneath it all the only thing left was love, the one thing you had wanted more than anything, but he had withheld.

You had thought you wouldn't feel anything when your father died, resigned to indifference many years ago, but the revelation that he likely had always loved you and had just been too stubborn to show it had grief clawing up your throat.

"Did you talk to his neurologist yesterday?" Cecelia asked, "His tremors are getting worse, his meds will need to be adjusted."

"Fuck," you swore softly, "No, sorry, I forgot. I'll call her today."

You felt Cecelia's imploring gaze on you in your peripheral, but tried to ignore it.

"Dana mentioned she passed along some memory care facility brochures to you."

You sighed, "Of course she did."

"I want to be clear that I'll support you no matter what, but I really think you should at least tour those facilities. If you're going to move him somewhere, it'll be easier on him to do it now while he still has some understanding."

You swallowed thickly, "I know that."

"His Medicare will probably fund most of it, more than they would for care at home."

You nodded silently, all things you knew, but had been putting off thinking about. Because in the back of your head was the conversation you'd had with him when he was first diagnosed. His very matter of fact tone as he told you he was making you his health care proxy and also that he would never forgive you of you used those powers to put him in a nursing home.

You didn't blame him for it. You'd worked in a nursing home for a few years as a CNA while you were in school and even in best case scenarios they seemed miserable to you. The memory care facilities weren't quite the same as a nursing home, but you figured the sentiment remained. You supposed that was a conversation you should have had with him at the time, but you had been desperately trying to avoid any hard conversations then. In fact you had resented him for getting diagnosed right when you'd got engaged. It was horrible to even think it, you knew, but it felt like he was trying to steal your happiness.

"You ready to hit the road, Cece?" Tim had stood and joined his wife, stretching an arm comfortably around her shoulders.

You walked them out, thanked them profusely for staying and then closed the door behind them. As Franklin whined with concern at your legs, another sound had you resting your forehead against the wood of the door.

You had few pure—untouched by anger or hurt—memories from childhood. One that stuck, sweet like candy in your teeth, was your father singing Here Comes the Sun to you while he pushed you on the rickety swing set in the backyard.

Now you could hear him in the other room, humming the melody softly, like a hymn.

***

Brian was back in the ER and your head was throbbing. You were doing your best to avoid talking to him, but you had noticed the subtle whispers and fist bumps to his fellow EMT when he walked by you.

When he had passed the hub, you bent over the counter, closing your eyes for just a moment or two. You had gotten very good at removing yourself from the ER even if only for a moment.

"Hey," That was Cassie's voice behind you and you straightened again, forcing a smile, "Isn't that the EMT you went on a date with last week?"

You hummed, "The very same."

"How did it go? Did you get laid? Tell me you got laid, I need to live vicariously through you."

You gave a short laugh, "No, I did not get laid."

She frowned, "Well, why not? I assumed that was why you didn't show for dancing."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that Cassie, I wanted to come, I just—Something came up. The date was horrible, though, if it's any consolation."

There must've been something in your voice that gave you away because she looked you over, not in judgment, but it was instead sympathy you found in her eyes as she tilted her head, "Are you alright?"

"McKay?" It was Javadi's voice that cut through the din of the ED before you could answer, "I need to present 13 to someone, are you free?"

"Sure," McKay said and draped her stethoscope back over her neck before turning back to you, "We'll talk later?"

You weren't planning on that, but you nodded anyway. Took a slow steadying breath and blew it out slowly as you looked down at your iPad—

"Good morning—"

"Jesus, fuck." You swore and rounded on Robby who had somehow managed to sneak up on you. At your shouting, the pain in your head intensified for a brief moment and you winced, "Could you announce yourself before doing that next time?"

He frowned and leaned his hip against the counter, scooting back enough so he could see your face, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You said through incredulous laughter, "Why does everyone keep fucking asking me that?"

"You winced," He said, ignoring your question, "Something hurt?""

You sighed, "I just have a headache, I'm fine." At that moment, you looked up and accidentally locked eyes with Brian, who smiled at you. Smiled. Not sneered. As if nothing was wrong.

Robby tracked your gaze and you noticed the way he stiffened, "Is he bothering you?"

"No," You said quickly, "We haven't spoken."

"Well why the fuck is he looking at you like that then?"

You heard the undercurrent of danger in his voice and frowned, finally looking at him. He was watching Brian with an almost predatory gaze, his forearms braced against the counter, "I don't know," you said quietly, "Because he's deranged? Maybe you should stop staring after him with those fuckin' wolf eyes."

He turned back to you, "Wolf eyes?"

You rolled your eyes, "You're looking at him like a jealous boyfriend," You lowered your voice, "If you don't cut it out people are going to start talking. Everyone knows I went out with him."

He shook his head marginally, "Sorry, I forgot how puritanical you are over the idea of people knowing who you're sleeping with."

You blinked slowly at him in shock, and then laughed, loudly, until eyes were on both you and Robby. The sound was off key and grating and you took a small delight when Robby grimaced.

It was ridiculous, really, that you were dealing with this. And you had no one to blame but yourself. Calling him in a weak moment, letting him take you home, letting him convince you he cared about you. It was naive and stupid and you knew better.

"Wait—" He said immediately, "Hold on, that came out wrong—"

"Over and over, Robby, you continually prove my point of exactly why we should not be involved in any way."

"Oh, that's—" He scoffed, "Come on, that's an overreaction, the other night we—"

"Here you go," McKay sidled between you and Robby and set some ibuprofen in front of you.

"I—" You frowned, "What's this?"

"It's ibuprofen." She said, smiling.

"Well, yes, I can see that. Um, why?"

"Oh, it was obvious that you have a headache, that's why you're acting all snippy. You were like this a couple of weeks ago, same deal," She turned back to Robby and looked between the two of you, "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Robby started, "Yes, actually—"

"No," You said quickly instead, "Robby was actually just headed to… Central 11 so Dr. Santos can present." You raised your voice slightly since you knew Trinity was behind you, trying to chart, "Isn't that right Dr. Santos?"

She sighed heavily, but you heard her push back from her workstation, "Sure, no time like the present."

"Fantastic," You looked back at Robby in front of you, a smile pasted to your face, "Off you go, Dr. Robinavitch."

He watched you, temper evident in his gaze as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. But in the end, he simply pushed himself off the counter and walked off with Santos.

McKay slowly shifted her gaze from Robby to you, "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?" You took two ibuprofen capsules in your palm and tossed them back with a sip of Diet Coke.

She lowered her voice slightly, "Am I crazy or are you sleeping with Robby?"

At her words, you gasped, but there was still soda in your mouth and so you accidentally inhaled it, burning down your lungs and up your nose.

"Oh, shit, sorry—" She said, but there was laughter in her voice as she thumped you over the back, "Are you okay?"

You waved her off and grabbed your water bottle to clear the irritation. Once you'd caught your breath you turned back to her, "What the fuck would make you think that?"

Over her shoulder, you saw Princess trying to fight a smile behind her, Perlah not far off. And you knew they all meant well, really. These were probably the three people in the ED least likely to judge you. Princess and Perlah you had been unsure of in the beginning, but they really did keep their gossip to themselves and they never treated you differently once they knew. McKay was probably the one other person here you would trust with sensitive personal information.

But it didn't make it feel any better. With everything you had going on at home, when you came here all you wanted was to do the work. The work that had always given you purpose, that you'd been good at, your near pathological desire for organization and control put to good use. Now though, all because of some stupid lapse in judgment when you were on vacation, you were becoming the topic of all the wrong conversations.

McKay opened her mouth slowly, "Well… There just seemed to be a lot of weird tension when I walked up here."

"Yeah, well, we were having a disagreement. About work."

"Right, but there was also the fact that he was glaring at Brian as if he'd committed some sort of personal crime against him."

You felt your frustration flare, "What, like they were fighting over the last piece of chicken?"

McKay frowned, "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you—"

"You didn't," you said sharply, "I have to go do a room check."

You walked away before she could get another word in, but you heard the whispers behind you from her and Princess and likely Perlah too.

What did it matter, you thought. Likely you were only a temporary replacement for Dana anyway. She'd be back before you knew it and maybe you'd pick up a shift here and there but that would be it. They'd replace you in a second. What did it matter if they talked? What did it matter if Robby planned to toss you aside when he got bored?

What did any of it fucking matter? You had no fiancé, no real friends, your dad was about to die and he never liked you much anyway, pretty soon you'd have no job as well. Thirty plus years and nothing to show for it. The throbbing in your head increased as you walked around the ED.

"I need to talk to you," You said when you found Robby.

"About what?" He said shortly.

"Privately." You said, and grasped his forearm before tugging him out of the emergency room and up the stairs.

"Where are you—? Now? You're taking me here now—?"

You were leading him up to the abandoned floor where the two of you had met up many times after shift for sex. But it had always been after shift. Never during. The two of you would never leave the ED unattended like that. But you were feeling reckless.

He continued to follow you even though you failed to answer his question and you took this as consent.

When you pulled him inside and empty room and closed the door behind you, immediately and without preamble, you were on him. Lips locked with his and hands braced against his chest, you kissed him both hungrily and viciously, teeth nipping roughly at lips.

He made a sound of surprise at the back of his throat, but he kissed you back, hands lifted to cradle your neck.

It was only when your hands slid down to unbutton his cargo pants that he pulled away. Grunting, he slid his hands down to brace your wrists and pulled you off and away from him, "Wait—Hold on—What're you doing?"

You scoffed, "What does it look like I'm doing?" You said quickly, and relatched your mouth to his, desperate for distraction, desperate to stop the self loathing thoughts that pounded like nails against your skull.

"Hey—" He pushed you away again, "C'mon, kid, knock it off."

This time, when he pushed you away, you groaned in frustration, the sound growing into an almost scream, "What is your problem?"

He tilted his head as he looked at you and when he spoke his voice was full to the brim with agitation, "What's my problem? Just ten minutes ago you were telling me emphatically how we shouldn't be involved anymore and now you're trying to jump my bones. You don't see how I might be experiencing fuckin' whiplash?"

Your eyes burned and you blinked rapidly in an attempt to dissolve them. The last thing you wanted was to break down in front of him again. You tried desperately to hold onto your rage, though with each passing moment you felt your grip slipping.

"Sweetheart," He tried again, his voice tender and warm, "What's going on?"

You shook your head and tried to laugh it off, looking up at the ceiling, "I don't know. I don't fucking know. I feel like I'm losing my mind." You sniffled before you continued, though you still couldn't look at him. Couldn't look him in the eye while you spoke. "Everything—Everything's wrong and I feel like—Every day I wake up and I realize that my life is already over."

Your thoughts were jumbled and you couldn't properly communicate what you were feeling. Never mind that you didn't want to really tell him anything, you just wanted to fuck. Why couldn't he just shut up and fuck you?

After a few moments of silence passed between you, you heard him chuckle softly. Frowning, you finally looked at him and he was shaking his head, a hand running over the back of his head.

"You're a child," he said, deathly quiet.

You stood, frozen for a moment, certain you'd misheard him. But he didn't say anything else.

"What?" You asked, hated how small your voice sounded.

"You're so young," He said, and he sounded exhausted, "You don't know anything about the world yet, you're just a baby."

His voice was so gentle when he said it, as he closed the distance between you again, you weren't sure he meant to be condescending, to be cruel, as you thought he had been at first.

No, he had been incredulous, in wonder. And sure enough, when he was standing just centimeters from you again, his took your face gently in his hands, thumbed at the wetness beneath your eyes, the sensation of the calloused pads of his thumbs against the soft skin of your cheek had your eyelids fluttering closed.

He was calling you a baby, that was fine, you wanted to be babied. You wanted desperately for someone to baby you, just for once for the burden to be taken off your shoulders. Please, you begged him with your eyes, please take care of me.

"Your life's just starting," He said quietly, "It's only just begun."

And because you couldn't stand the sincerity in his voice, you couldn't bear not to needle him, "Oh, such a big man," You said teasingly, "why don't you show me then?"

He almost looked like he wanted to sigh, like he couldn't understand why you were defaulting back to cynicism, to sarcasm, when he was trying to be earnest for once. But the moment passed and then he was kissing you, soft and slow.

"I don't—Think we have time for this—" You said, impatiently tugging at his pants again.

But he took your wrists in his hands, pinned them to the wall above your head with just one of his hands, "Be quiet," he said roughly against your mouth, his beard rubbing your chin raw, "For once just be quiet and take what I give you."

Before you could think about protesting, he pushed his free hand between your legs, slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants. You sighed, eyes rolling back and squirming against his hold on your arms uselessly when his fingers stroked your folds. He sucked at your neck, occasionally dragging his teeth along the skin of your neck and then running his tongue along the goosebumps that rose in his wake.

He knew your body well by this point which meant his fingers knew exactly where to go, the rhythm at which to stroke, exactly how much pressure to apply to your clit with his thumb until you were whining after an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were unable to feel shame about it just then, that would come later. Your muscles clenching, your mind having gone blissfully blank the second he'd touched you.

"There she is, sweet girl, so quiet when I touch you, hm? Should I let you come? You think you've earned it?"

You sighed, "Please?"

"Whatever you want," he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he sped up the rhythm of his fingers and you fell apart around him, his hand dropping your wrists to hold you through it as you shuddered and broke, "Shhhh," he hushed your moans with kisses to your mouth, "You're okay, sweetheart."

For a few moments, you believed him.

But only for a few.

When you were back at the hub, Robby nowhere to be seen, missed calls on your phone from your father's neurologist and the memory care facilities you'd promised to tour, McKay asking if everything was okay, you taking every last bit of strength trying and failing not snap at anyone else. The weight was staggering again without Robby's hands to share the burden.

***

Robby watched you closely the rest of the shift, recognized the signs that you were sinking beneath the waves, allowing the current to pull you out to sea. Your clipped insistence that everything was fine, your snapping at staff, your aversion to any real discussion quickly disguised with sarcasm and wit. It was like staring in a fun house mirror, something like his worst nightmare.

What really alarmed him was when you'd pulled Whitaker aside after you'd found out he had repeatedly informed an Alzheimer's patient that her husband had passed. He hadn't heard all of it, but had walked past in time to hear you lay into him.

"But—" Whitaker was saying, "She should know he's gone, I was just—"

"You were just what?" You snapped, "Putting your feelings in front of the patient's? Alzheimer's was in her chart it's not a fucking mystery she's not going to remember what you tell her. You tell her once. It doesn't stick? Well then you start telling her he's at work or he's in the other room, but you don't retraumatize her again and again. How do you think you would like to relive the moment you found out you were a widow again and again and again?"

"Everything okay in here?" Robby announced himself and you had immediately blown past him.

"Fine," you said, "But maybe you need to give your residents sensitivity training so they stop fucking torturing patients."

You were gone before he could say anything else.

He remembered what Dana had said to him not too long ago: Do not pull her down into the pit with you.

He hadn't meant to, but wasn't that always the case with him? He never meant to hurt, but he always ended up maiming anyway. Especially the ones he cared about the most.

After shift, he sat outside by his motorcycle and waited for you. You always seemed to stay until whoever was there to relieve you kicked you out. Something else he was familiar with: The ED was a curse, but it was also the only thing that kept him above water.

"Hey," He said when he saw you walk through the sliding doors of the ambulance bay, "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

You walked over to him, but your eyes roved over his bike, a slow smirk on your face, "What d'you have, a death wish?"

He smirked halfheartedly and avoided your gaze, "I wanted to talk about what you said earlier."

"Unfortunately I talk quite a lot, so I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

"About us not being involved anymore. I think you were right, I think we should stop seeing each other."

He was met with uncomfortable silence. It stretched and frayed until it snapped.

"Well, isn't that incredibly responsible of you." Your tone was impressively sardonic, the venom in your voice palpable, but he had expected this. Had become accustomed to your constant push and pull from the moment he met you. You would be unhappy no matter what he decided. You didn't know what you wanted, you were in no state to figure it out. If he was right about you, the internal war you waged took up most of your strength day in and day out.

"It doesn't mean we can't be friends or that I don't care about you—"

"You know what, you don't have to do all this. I'm going home. Goodnight."

"I mean it," He said, quickly reaching out to grab you to stop you from walking away, "Look, I can see you're struggling and I wanna help—"

You wrenched yourself from his grasp, fury in your eyes, but he saw the way they grew wet as you backed away from him, "Please just leave me alone." You said softly, voice ragged.

He watched helplessly as you walked off, unsure of what to do next. Briefly, he considered following you home, but he'd promised he wouldn't ever show up unannounced.

He thought about the woman who'd stood on the stoop waiting for you and calmed significantly. You had someone, he assumed maybe your mother, waiting for you at home.

Living with your parents would explain a lot about your secrecy. Maybe you were even embarrassed about it. But he didn't think there was any shame in that, considering you had recently left a serious relationship and then moved across the country.

It was good that you weren't alone. You'd be fine. You didn't need him. He ignored the ache in his chest at the thought and got on his bike.

***

You hadn't spoken to Robby in weeks. There had been times before and after shift where he'd tried to pull you aside and you'd mumble some excuse about not having time, about another nurse needing you, whatever you needed to say to get away from him. And while before, you thought he would've invited this as a game, and likely part of you would mean it to be interpreted that way, you no longer wanted to play. You knew he could sense it, had seen you pack up the playing cards, no longer caring if he saw your hand. And so eventually he left you alone.

It surprised you the way you missed him at night, when your only company was the shadows on the walls and the Jeopardy! contestants in the TV. When you couldn't sleep, you'd try and remember the night you'd slept in his sheets with his arms wrapped tightly around you. On the worst nights, you'd put on his hoodie he'd given you. But it had long since lost his scent.

"Honey, is there something else going on at work that's bothering you?" Cecelia had asked as you walked around the grounds of one of the memory care facilities you'd agreed to tour, the name of which escaped you now, "I know the last few weeks with your dad have been hard, but I get the sense there's something else going on."

The last few weeks with your dad had been more than hard, they'd been so challenging at times you had begun fantasizing about disappearing or walking out in front of an ambulance as it pulled into the bay. The fantasies grew more detailed, your coworkers noting the organ donor heart on your license and having to keep you on a ventilator until it was time to harvest your organs. You felt you'd have more purpose as an organ donor than a living, breathing person. You had seen enough caretaker burnout over the course of your career to understand what was happening, but you weren't sure exactly what you were meant to do about it. Your support network began and ended with Cecelia and you had already asked more of her than you were comfortable with.

The issue of Robby paled in comparison, but it still added to your depression. Yearning for a man you were never meant to have, that you knew from the beginning was temporary, who discarded you just like you always knew he would. The first time you had opened up to him and he'd fucking stabbed you straight through the heart. It hurt, yes, but it was also humiliating. It had been the exact thing you had been trying to avoid. You felt stupid and you felt like a child for missing him. Missing something that never quite existed, you reminded yourself.

"I'm fine," You'd told Cecelia, forcing a smile and then turning your attention elsewhere, "It says they have someone come play the piano for the residents twice a week, I think he'd like that."

You had been late coming in this morning, Dana once again covering for you, because your father had a cold and the low grade fever was causing his hallucinations to become more severe. You'd worried about leaving him with Cecelia, but she swore she could handle it. She was always insisting on getting you out of the house lately. Had asked more than once just this week if you needed her to stay overnight.

Of course, you did not, on account of being a huge bitch to all your friends at work and now not speaking to Robby.

"Hey, everything alright?"

You looked up from your iPad to see McKay standing next to you. You gave a small smile, still feeling remorseful for snapping at her weeks ago though you had since apologized.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, I just worry whenever Dana covers for you," She shrugged, "You don't have to tell me what you have going on at home, but I'm here, you know. If you ever want."

For a moment, you considered it. She was looking at you so earnestly you were almost overwhelmed with the urge to unburden yourself—

But then there was a commotion in the ambulance bay.

The doors slid open, a stretcher came into view. It took a few seconds for your brain to process, but you recognized your father on that stretcher, Cecelia behind and talking to the paramedics.

Robby had rushed up to the stretcher, calling out for McKay as he did, and you stared at them, dumbstruck until Robby called out your name, "What's open?"

You blinked and looked down at your iPad quickly and directed them to trauma one.

Then, in something of a daze, you followed after them. Listened as Cecelia debriefed them and stood quietly in the doorway.

"…Fever's spiked to 101, his heart rate's tachy—"

Your father was thrashing, calling out for your mother and you felt absolutely paralyzed—

"Alright, let's get him some risperidone—"

"No, no risperidone," You interjected, "He's already on quetiapine, you can up his dose if you want."

Robby looked up at you, frowning, "Do you know our patient?"

You swallowed and inhaled slowly, "Yes. He's my father and I'm his healthcare proxy."

The room went very still. And as the moments passed, Robby's eyes widened marginally and the familiar signs of pity began to flood his expression. Intense revulsion flooded you and it was a feat to continue holding his gaze.

"Evie—" Your father said weakly, his hand reaching for you. You swallowed down any emotion and went to him, taking his hand.

"Who's Evie?" Robby asked quietly.

You blinked rapidly as you smiled at your father and then looked up at Robby, "My mother."

***

That morning when Robby had walked in and saw Dana at the desk instead of you, his anxiety had spiked.

"Where is she?" He asked as calmly as he could manage.

"Good morning to you too."

"Dana—"

"She's fine, she'll be here later."

You were fine. Fine, he told himself. But his wild heartbeat wouldn't hear it. He pulled out his phone instinctively. He wanted to hear your voice, wanted you to tell him yourself you were alright. He unlocked his phone, opened his messages and scrolled to your message thread. Stared at your last exchange of messages from weeks ago. Him asking you to meet him upstairs after shift, you giving the message a thumbs up.

He hated the way things were between you now. He worried about you constantly and now he couldn't even get you alone to get a read on you. But each time he saw you you seemed more and more withdrawn, your usual irritation and wit replaced with mostly indifference.

"I'm worried about her," He said slowly to Dana, "I know you won't tell me what's going on in her personal life, but since you know and I don't, are you absolutely positive she's fine? Because she really doesn't seem fine to me."

She looked up slowly, "What has you so concerned, Cap?"

He sighed, "She's combative with staff and patients, she's making mistakes, she's withdrawn—She—She told me a few weeks ago she felt like her life was over."

Something shifted just slightly in Dana's face before she masked it, "Are you still sleeping with her?" She asked, lowering her voice.

Robby ran a hand over his face, annoyed with having to diclose this information to Dana, "No."

Dana interrogated him with her eyes before lowering them back to her iPad, "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

When you came in, he'd watched carefully as you spoke with Dana. He noticed when the smallest hint of irritation traveled across your face and tried as subtly as possible to eavesdrop.

"—went to the tours?" Dana was saying.

"Yes, I have to follow up with a couple of them."

"You're running out of time, kiddo."

He didn't get to hear what exactly you were running out of time for because Samira whisked him away to get his opinion on a patient. But always, you were in the back of his mind.

And then, when there were just a couple of hours left of the shift, the stretcher rolled in with the dementia patient. He noted for a second the way your face fell when you saw it and filed away the oddity, calling out to you to give a room number.

When he saw you just a few moments later, hovering in the doorway, he didn't think much of it. But then his eyes went to the woman who was reporting the patient's current condition. His first thought was that the way she was speaking so clinically made him think she must be a home health nurse. His second thought was that she looked a lot like the woman he remembered seeing on your stoop when he dropped you off a few weeks ago.

Before he could fully process all that, you had interjected about the antipsychotics he had been about to order.

And suddenly the pieces of the puzzle seemed to slot into place.

The dosage of quetiapine seemed to calm your father down and once they got a handle on his fever enough to begin ordering tests and a chest x-ray, you slipped from the room.

"You're the man who gave her a ride home a few weeks ago?" The nurse—Cecelia, he learned—said to him as he was putting in orders at the computer.

"Yes," He said and gave her a smile, "You can call me Robby."

"Robby," She said, seemingly turning the name over in her head, "Dana mentioned you."

He raised his eyebrows, "You know Dana?"

Cecelia nodded, "We went to nursing school together, sorority sisters. I was the ER charge nurse at Presby for a long time, retired during Covid. But I trained your new charge nurse over there, recommended her to Dana when she mentioned she might want to step down."

Robby hummed, yet another puzzle piece to slot in, "Well I'm sure you've heard horrible things, then."

Cecelia laughed, "No, no. She's always said you were a good man." He watched as she peaked through the door at you, "You were seeing each other, but now you're not?"

Robby felt a flush climbing up his neck, "Something like that," He sighed and then added quickly, "Is she—Is she the primary caregiver? Is her mother around? Siblings?"

Cecelia shook her head, "It's just her. I help out while she's working."

He ran his hand over the back of his head, "So she leaves here and then is his around the clock care?"

"She hasn't talked to you about any of this?"

He sighed, "No, no she hasn't. But this explains a lot about… Well, things are starting to make a lot more sense to me."

"Dana and I have been trying to convince her to move him into a memory care facility for months now, but she's very stubborn."

He chuckled, "Tell me about it."

"Maybe she'll listen to you."

His mouth fell open as he looked at her, slowly shaking his head, "I don't think… We're not on the best of terms right now."

"Please," She said earnestly, "She can't keep going like this. If she hears enough people who care about her telling her that maybe it'll get through that thick head of hers."

Robby wanted to tell her that he wasn't sure you even believed that he cared about you, but he himself had noticed what was now obvious to him as caretaker burnout. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't try.

"I'm gonna call our night shift charge to see if she can come in early to relieve her."

Cecelia nodded, "Thank you."

When Lena came in more than an hour early, you looked mildly annoyed, but in the end thanked her and headed for your dad's room. Once the shift was officially over and he'd handed off everything to Shen, he went to see you.

He stood in the doorframe for a few moments. Your father seemed to be sleeping and you were in a chair by his bed, leaning over your knees, face in your hands. He knocked as gently as he could manage, but you still jumped. Upon seeing him, you deflated a bit and looked back at your hands, elbows still braced on your thighs.

Since you didn't demand he leave, he took that as invitation to come in and so he took the stool and dragged it next to you before lowering himself to sitting.

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly after sitting in silence with you for a few minutes.

"Better. Fever's stable. I'm glad he's sleeping, he hasn't slept in days. Waiting for his X-Ray to come back, but it's likely pneumonia." You rubbed harshly at your face, "I listened to his lungs last night and I didn't hear anything."

He didn't bother trying to tell you not to blame yourself. He knew it would fall on deaf ears.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked softly.

You stared ahead and didn't answer him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

You're quiet for so long he thinks you'll ignore him again, but then you start talking and your voice wavers like a branch in the wind, but you don't falter.

"Whenever a woman gets rolled in here, seriously injured, dying, crashing, everyone's first thought is who she is in relation to other people. Whose wife, whose daughter, whose sister, whose mother. It's so sad she's dead because she has kids, or she's married. It's always bothered me. I never felt like when a man rolled in here anyone felt the need to tally up all the ways they were important to other people in order to matter. But a woman—well—it's time to do some arithmetic to see what her life is worth to us.

"And day in and day out, I've done the same math for myself for years. What would my life be worth to my staff if I needed help one day? And year after year it's the same number," You paused and cleared your throat, "I've never liked my father and he's never liked me. My mother left us when I was still a baby and I know he's resented me for that my whole life. I did everything I could to get out of here as quickly as possible and just when I thought I'd done it, I moved away, I was engaged—"

You paused and looked down at your hands, "He got diagnosed and then… I don't know. It all went to shit. I told you when we met that my fiancé cheated on me, but that wasn't true. I told him, the man who was planning to love me for better or for worse, that I needed to come back to Pittsburgh to care for my father and he essentially said 'no thanks, I'm good,' as if I'd asked him if he wanted to come run errands with me. And so when I moved back here by myself, having lost everything, I already resented my father and it was beginning to make sense why he's hated me all this time. I took everything from him and now he's taking everything from me."

Robby couldn't help his sharp inhale, the hopelessness in your voice as you spoke staggering and terrifying. There was truth to what you were saying. As much as he'd like to deny it, now that you'd said it like that, he knew what you meant about the "math" that was done when a woman was in the ER.

Even still, he didn't like the direction you were going with this. It didn't mean it was right. It certainly didn't mean your life was worth less than anybody else's. He thought, surely, deep down you must have known that. He reminded himself that you hadn't slept likely in days. You weren't yourself.

"Sweetheart—"

You held your hand up to quiet him, "I knew people would look at this—you would look at this, me being a caregiver, and think I'm being noble. I'm not. I'm doing it because I have to. I don't want anyone pitying me or making me into some fucking superhero. The math hasn't changed."

Part of him wanted to take you by the shoulders and shake you, to make sure you understood that he didn't agree with this assessment at all. It didn't matter how you viewed yourself if the glass you were viewing yourself through was distorted. But he also knew that wouldn't be received well right now. He'd been there himself, was still there as of this moment.

"Fine," Robby sighed after a few moments had passed, "Then I think you're a selfish asshole. Is that what you want to hear?"

Still bent over your legs, your shoulders shook just slightly and when you turned to look at him, eyes glassy, he realized you were laughing. You nodded, "Thank you."

After you'd sat in comfortable silence for another few moments, you cleared your throat, "Shouldn't you be getting out of here?"

He shook his head and reached out for your hand, clasping it between both of his, he brought it to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to it, "No, I'm right where I need to be."

It took a while, but he eventually convinced you to let him take you home. Only because you started grumbling about having to take care of the dogs. You insisted that you wanted to come right back afterwards and he let you think he agreed with that plan, but he was gonna try everything he could to make sure you got some sleep before he took you back. You were both back on shift at 7 the next morning and if you didn't get any sleep he was gonna call in Dana. If you did sleep, he'd let you work as he knew you'd likely prefer that. By then, hopefully your father would be moved up to ICU.

At your house, he watched you with the dogs. They mostly ignored him and pranced around you playfully. Your face lit up as they did and he stood with you on the deck out back as you watched them run around the yard.

"You don't have to stay, you know," You said quietly, "I… appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm fine."

"I want to be here."

You huffed a laugh through your nose, "That's strange, because I recall you saying you didn't want to see me anymore just a few weeks ago."

He rocked back and forth between his feet, "I didn't know what you needed then. I don't think you knew what you needed either and I thought I was making you worse. I was wrong, I'm sorry."

Slowly, you turned to look at him and when he met your eyes, they glinted wet in the moonlight, bloodshot from what he assumed was lack of sleep along with the cacophony of emotions you had to be experiencing.

"Well, what do you want?" You asked, tears in your throat, "What do you need?"

This was something he had asked himself over and over since he met you. Why did he, over and over, keep coming back to you? Months had passed and it was still you he longed for when he was alone at night. Your voice he wanted to hear, your laugh, the sounds you made, your constant needling, the taste of you, all of it. In his quiet moments and in the moments when his thoughts raced, still, he returned to you.

At first he'd denied it to himself. You'd made it clear whatever was between you didn't exist outside of hospital walls. But then there was the night you'd called him from jail. The night you'd slept in his bed, sought him out for comfort. You could be so gentle, so vulnerable when you wanted to be. Delicate, like the first blooms of spring, petals easy to crush in his hands if he wasn't careful. And he'd felt so proud that you'd showed him that side of yourself after everything.

He found he wanted to be worthy of it, your softness, your vulnerability. And he realized what that meant, the truth of it. But it scared the hell out of him. Not because of you, but because of him. He knew he couldn't afford to mess this up, knew it because despite everything, despite how hard he knew you'd tried to stay away from him for fear of him breaking you, you'd succumbed to him anyway.

You understood him in ways he didn't think anyone else ever had. You identified all the worst parts of him immediately and even if you'd wanted it to, they hadn't deterred you. He could do the same for you. He would.

But not yet. He didn't want to make declarations or promises when you were clearly on the brink.

Gently, he took your face in his hands, gently ran the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, "Right now, I want you to get some sleep. And I wanna be with you while you do, if you'd let me."

You looked up at him, chin wobbling slightly, but you nodded.

You allowed him to lead you by the hand back into the house, the dogs following closely behind. When he asked where your bedroom was and you simply shook your head and led him to the TV room instead, he didn't push.

The couch was large with one corner extending into a chaise lounge. He sat there, sighing at the aches and groans of his joints as he did. He coaxed you to him and you rested your head in his lap, legs stretched out and away from him so your bodies created something of a right angle. One of the dogs, the one he thought was called Franklin, hopped on the sofa and wiggled his way into your arms pulling a smile from you that had his stomach flipping.

He rested his hand against your face, running it soothingly from the crown of your head down the column of your throat. He was pleased when you fell asleep within minutes, both you and the dog eliciting soft snores in unison. Sleep came for him soon after.

***

You woke up long before your alarm, neck stiff and the imprint of Robby's cargo pants on your cheek. He was still asleep, snoring loudly enough that it made you want to laugh. Carefully, you detached yourself from him and got up.

The dogs trotted after you and pushing the sliding door open, they ran outside and you followed, a pack of cigarettes and lighter in your hand.

There was a thick fog that settled beneath the horizon and covered the yard. The dogs broke the quiet of the morning as they played and chased after one another.

You had nearly finished smoking your cigarette when the sliding door opened behind you and you felt Robby at your back.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments, watching the dogs play. You allowed yourself to lean back into him just slightly, his broad chest warm on your back.

"I can call Dana if you don't wanna work today. Yesterday must've been a lot for you." He said quietly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, "The alternative is sitting in his hospital room all day. No thanks, I'll work."

You felt his hands work their way around your waist to your front, holding you to him. For once, you allowed yourself to sink into him.

"Your relationship with him is really not good then?"

"It's fine now, I guess," You said, "Now that his memory's going. It's hard to be angry with someone who can't remember what they did."

He bent his head and pressed soft kisses to the skin of your neck. His beard tickled and you instinctively shrugged your shoulders up.

"Why do you do it?" He asked quietly, "Cecelia mentioned you'd toured a memory care facility. If you don't even have a relationship why won't you sign the admission papers?"

Your body went cold and you disentangled yourself from him, "That's why you're really here, huh? Cecelia's agenda?"

"I—No, it's because I couldn't tell the last time you slept and I thought you might hurt yourself—"

"Me?" You scoffed, "Mr. Donorcycle is worried that I might hurt myself?"

He ran a hand over the back of his head, "We're not talking about me right now, we're talking about you."

"And when have we ever talked about you?" You were nearly shouting now, "You think my behavior's erratic? You should look in a fucking mirror."

He shook his head, "Listen to yourself. I only asked a question and you're deflecting so hard I think you might pull a muscle."

"Because you're a fucking hypocrite! If I wanna kill myself by working myself into the ground and taking care of my father 24/7 that's my business! Just like you riding around Pittsburgh without a helmet on practically begging for a car to hit you is yours. But at least I'm honest about it!"

He scoffed, "That's not—" He sighed, "It's not the same thing."

You smirked and took a step closer to him, "No?" You lowered your voice until it was almost like a caress, "So when you're riding that bike and you see a car coming from the opposite direction with just a yellow line separating you, you've never thought about just… leaning a little to the left? And when you thought about it and felt relief instead of fear, where did you put that feeling?"

Your faces were close together, close enough that when you met his eyes you almost faltered, the depth of the sadness you found almost too much.

After a moment, you swallowed and took a step backwards, "You and I aren't that different, Robby."

Putting your fingers in your mouth, you wolf whistled and the dogs came running as you slid the porch door open for them to run through, "I'll see you at work." You said and followed the dogs inside.

***

Robby felt a bit nauseous for most of the day, thinking over what you'd said to him. He knew you were right, but what he had wanted to say was that after meeting you he felt himself changing. The impulses lessened when you were around.

It wasn't just sex to him anymore. At some point things had changed without him quite realizing it. Until you brought up to his face what he'd been avoiding for quite some time, that he didn't see a reason to keep going. But now the truth of it was, he found himself looking forward to things. Looking forward to seeing you, to talking to you.

It didn't fix him the fact that you made him want to live, he knew this. For one, there was no guarantee that you felt the same. That it was anything other than just sex to you. But it had gotten him thinking about the fact that maybe there was more he'd be missing if one day he drifted over that yellow line.

You avoided him most of the shift, only giving him updates when he asked. If you had a question specifically for him you'd taken to sending one of the nurses or residents to ask him for you and report back. It felt ridiculous.

When he could, he snuck away to see your father who was still in the ER having been diagnosed with pneumonia. He knew from what he'd been able to overhear when he got close enough to you that you had been calling the ICU charge nurse every hour, begging for a room. Your father didn't like the noise or the lights. You'd closed his door and turned his lights off, pulling the curtains.

The fact that he was still down here meant he was still Robby's patient. So under the guise of just being a doctor, he went to sit with your father. Most of the time, he slept. Sometimes, when he was awake, if he wasn't dreadfully confused he would ask for you. Not for your mother, for you.

"She's working," Robby would say, "She's the charge nurse. A lot of responsibility. This place falls apart without her."

Once, only once when he seemed in a very cheerful mood after Robby had brought him a turkey sandwich, he'd smiled, "Charge nurse, eh? Just like her mama."

Robby's stomach sank, "Does she know that her mother used to be a charge nurse?"

"Oh, yeah," Your father folded his hands over his stomach and stared at the ceiling pensively, "That was how we met. I was a pharmacist at the hospital she worked at."

Following in the footsteps of the mother you never knew. Were you trying to prove to yourself that you could do what she couldn't? It should be her here taking care of her husband, but instead it was you caring for him on top of working in the ER. Your mother who hadn't been able to withstand the pressure of a baby and a husband and a career. Did you think less of her for it? Was it starting to scare you that maybe you could understand why she had run away from it all?

"Young man," Your father said, interrupting his thoughts, "Could you please help me to the bathroom?"

Robby nodded, "Of course."

***

You hated Robby and you were also obsessed with him. This is what you were thinking all throughout shift when you weren't too busy to think or you weren't thinking about your father. You were both enamored and repulsed by his closeness. You wanted him to touch you, but the sound of his voice had you running in the opposite direction. It was maddening.

Miraculously, you were not thinking about him at all when you heard the sound of crashing equipment coming from your father's room. Your head whipped towards the sound and before you'd even really registered it your feet were moving.

When you ran into the room, you were startled to find both your father and Robby sprawled on the floor, his IV having been knocked down in the fall.

"Jesus—What the fuck?"

Robby groaned, eyes shut tight, then immediately, "I'm fine, I'm fine, your father—"

But your father seemed largely unharmed, though a bit in shock, "Dad… Dad are you okay?"

He frowned, "Fell on my ass."

Your lips twitched, "Does anything hurt?"

"No…No…" Then his eyes traveled to your face and lit up, "Hey, pumpkin. What're you doing here?"

The ache in your chest returned, as it usually did when he called you "pumpkin." But you forced a smile, "Just checking on you. We gotta get you up though—"

Robby sat up, hissing in pain as he did and pressing a hand to his back, "You have to get another nurse—Can't lift him yourself—"

You laughed and then sighed as you got a good grip on his transport belt, "What do you think I do when I'm at home, huh?" You turned your attention to your father, "You ready, dad?" He nodded, "Okay, on three. One, two, three—" Lifting with your knees, you got him to standing and then back in his bed.

Sighing, you lowered yourself back to the floor where Robby was, still wincing in pain, "You hurt yourself, old man?" You teased.

He looked up at you with disdain and as he did, you saw he had a small cut on his forehead, "You hit your head?" You asked frowning, reaching out to get a better look.

He allowed it, closing his eyes at your touch. Your heart fluttered a bit, seeing the effect your touch had on him, "Might've hit the IV stand on the way down."

"Can you stand?"

He rolled his eyes, "Can I stand—Of course I can—" As he pushed himself up he interrupted himself with a groan, "Fuck."

"Ooo—" You said sympathetically, "Okay, let's—The bed next door is empty, let's go over there—sit down."

Once he was sat down, you took his face in your hands again, moving his head gently so you could look at his cut better.

"How's it look, doc?" A familiar joke that had the tension rushing out of you. As an NP you could diagnose some illnesses and order medications on your own which led to you having to constantly remind patients that you weren't a doctor. You had done a brief stint in Family Medicine years ago that had had you murmuring "not a doctor" in your sleep. This was one of the few things about yourself that you had willingly divulged to Robby.

Despite yourself, you smirked, "I think you'll live. Why were you moving him anyway?"

"He had to use the bathroom."

You frowned, "Okay… That's a nurse's job. You should've come and grabbed me."

You had begun to clean up his cut and he closed his eyes again at the contact, "I know this'll piss you off, but you shouldn't be treating him while he's here and I know if I told you to reassign him to a different nurse that would also piss you off, so. I was trying to ease some of the burden off you."

There he went again, being thoughtful when you were trying to be angry with him, "Doctors suck at transport." You said softly.

He chuckled, "Yeah, noted."

"Did you pull something in your back?"

He shook his head and winced as he gingerly stretched his back, "I'm okay, just need to sit for a couple more minutes. You gonna tell everyone about this?"

"Oh, of course." You said and were pleased when he smiled.

"I called Hemsley House this morning just… out of curiosity. They think they'd have a room for him by the time he's discharged if you're interested."

You tried to stifle the annoyance and looked down at your hands, "Robby—"

"I'm just asking you to think about it. You don't have to do anything. Baby, look at me."

The pet name caught you off guard and your eyes shot up. He was looking at you with such care and affection, his big brown eyes impossible not to drown in.

"You have cared for him as well as you can from home, but you're running on fumes. If you don't hurt yourself, you'll hurt him. Is that what you want?"

You swallowed, "He made me promise I wouldn't send him to one. A long-term care facility. Said he'd rather be dead. But I can't afford around the clock care and Medicare won't pay for it either."

After a moment, Robby sighed, "I don't mean to be unempathetic, but I'm just not sure in this situation that that's an option. I would argue keeping him at home with you is unethical, even."

You scrubbed your hands over your face, "There's a condition in his will, when he dies. That if I put him somewhere else, I get nothing. And I don't… I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that I spent most of my savings moving back here and the cost for all his medical care has eaten up almost everything else and I don't even know how I'm gonna pay for his burial—"

"Okay, hold on, slow down." He looked over your shoulder, as if he could see your father from here, "He really did that? With the will? That seems fuckin' cruel."

You nodded, "He was a mean bastard. He still can be, sometimes. Not like he was, though."

Robby ran a hand over his head and sighed, "Alright… Well let me think it over…"

You scoffed, "What is there to think about?"

"I'm gonna find some way to help you."

"Robby," you sighed, "you really don't have to, it's fine—"

"It's not fine!" He said sharply, "If anyone else came in the ER in the shape you're in and told us they were taking care of their very sick parent all on their own while working full time, we'd have social services down here in a second."

You ground your jaw and looked away from him, "I told you already," you said softly, "that if I wanna put myself in the ground with him, that's my business."

"I don't accept that," he said, shaking his head, "I need you."

You rolled your eyes, "You do not. Dana will be back before you know it, and the hospital won't pay for us both—"

"No," he interrupted, "No, I didn't mean like that." He took your hands in his, squeezed them gently until you were looking at him again, "I need you."

His face was so earnest as he said it and your heart was hammering in your chest. But he couldn't—You were already shaking your head, "No, no that's not true either. I'm just the flavor of the week. You'll replace me with whatever pretty young thing walks through the doors next—"

"No, this is different." He said firmly, "I'm not going anywhere this time, I want you."

You were still standing and he slid his hands around to the backs of your thighs, tugged you gently forward. You didn't want to trust him. Not after the way your last relationship had ended and whatever this was with Robby had been so tumultuous. But the thought of having someone else around, of not being so alone was unfairly enticing. So when he gripped your chin and pulled you down until your mouths met, you didn't stop him.

Sighing into his mouth, your hands found purchase at the base of his neck. He pulled you impossibly closer until you were nearly straddling his lap. He kissed slowly today, luxuriously even, his tongue sliding against yours to savor instead of to claim.

"Dr. Robby—" The door opened, bringing the din of the emergency room with it and you startled, jumping backwards and turned to see McKay in the doorway. She looked shocked, but also—pleased, "I'm so sorry," She said, looking down at the floor as she tried to stifle a smirk, "We need you in trauma two, Robby."

He ran a hand over his beard and nodded, seeming horribly unbothered by the whole thing, "I'll be there in a minute."

McKay left, letting the door shut behind her and Robby turned to you immediately, "Don't freak out, okay? McKay already knew."

You closed your eyes, biting down on your lip in an attempt to steady yourself. Every moment that passed you felt as though things were spinning more and more wildly out of control—

"Hey," Robby's voice again, closer this time. When you opened your eyes he was stood in front of you, he brought up his hand to cup your cheek and despite yourself, you leaned into his touch, "We're gonna figure this out, together. Okay?"

You weren't sure that you quite believed that, but you blinked and then nodded. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then he was gone.

Later, at the hub, McKay approached you slowly like a hawk circling its prey.

"I'm not gonna talk about it so don't even bother," You said without looking up from your iPad.

She snickered, "Fine, fine, I was just gonna congratulate you is all."

"For what?"

"Uh, well—I've seen Robby take many women to bed in this hospital—"

"—God, Cassie—"

"—But I don't think I've ever seen him in love before. It's nice."

You paused and then looked up, frowning, "You're insane."

McKay shook her head, "I'm not. That man is deeply obsessed with you."

You had to stifle a smirk as you rolled your eyes, but as you looked up, your eyes found Robby's across the room and watched as he instantly softened, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upward.

You looked away quickly, alarmed at the feeling that was now stirring in your chest. One that you thought had been laid to rest many moons ago: Hope.

***

Robby didn't bring up Hemsley House again, for which you were grateful. Instead, when your father got discharged, he came home with you and helped you take care of him and made sure you were taken care of as well.

He hadn't complained about sleeping on the couch, but on one of his days off had set up a new bed in one of the empty spare rooms. Once before, he had asked why you didn't sleep in your childhood bedroom, but you couldn't give him a clean answer, only that you hated being in that room. It reminded you too much of when, as a teenager, you'd felt like a prisoner in your own life.

As the weeks passed, you were growing accustomed to having Robby around, but you knew the care taking was also beginning to take a toll on him as well. He got along well with your father. In fact, your father had begun to prefer his company. Asking him to play chess when he was in a good mood. When he needed to go to the bathroom, he preferred Robby to take him no matter how you tried to insist. It compounded you with guilt, watching Robby day in and day out help without complaint. You felt like it was only a matter of time before he got tired of it all and left. And while you felt like you'd prepared yourself for that possibility, there was a large part of you that realized the heartbreak would be inevitable.

It was a Friday and Cecelia had offered to stay the night with her husband so that you and Robby could have a night to yourselves and Robby was acting almost giddy about it. He had both your overnight bags in his hand as he unlocked the door to his house.

"What d'you think?" He asked as the two of you walked into the entryway, "Should we go out? Or we could stay in, make dinner, rent a movie…"

You shrugged, but the idea of doing anything other than loafing around exhausted you, "Whatever you want," You said, smiling.

Immediately it seemed, Robby noted your lack of enthusiasm. That was something else you'd been having a hard time getting used to: his inhuman ability to see right through you. Or maybe you had always been easy to read, but no one else had cared to open the book.

"Or…" He said slowly, "We could just order take out and have really loud sex."

You laughed at that. It was true that most of the time you had had sex, it was like a secret was being kept. Either at the hospital or at your house with your father sleeping just down the hall. It required discretion, often leading to hands pressed over mouths the stifle the sounds of an orgasm. But not at Robby's house. At Robby's house, you could be as loud as you wanted.

"Yeah, I think that sounds good."

He smirked and took a few steps closer to you, dropping your bags, "Yeah?"

You nodded, "Please." You hated begging, but had found over the course of the last few weeks that Robby really liked it when you told him what you wanted, better when you begged as you panted beneath him. Sometimes begging him to come led to him being turned on so much, he'd grind himself into the sheets as his tongue swirled around your clit. You also enjoyed it when he begged, so you couldn't exactly blame him.

Sure enough, with just that one word you watched Robby's entire demeanor shift.

"You need the stress fucked out of you, baby?"

A familiar chill ran down your spine at the shift in his tone, the easy dominance and soothing cadence. He was not what you expected from a dom in bed, and you thought in fact he could be better described as a switch, much like you. He could tell you what to do, call you his best girl, spank you and spit in your mouth, but all while worshiping you. All while praising you, telling you how good you were doing, how good you felt. No one else could make him feel so good. It always had you melting beneath him. But there were times when he also wanted to be taken care of, yearned for you to boss him around a little bit. And you were happy to oblige.

But you thought tonight, you'd really prefer it for him to take the reins.

"Yes," You said, already breathless in anticipation.

He led you to his bedroom and gently pushed you to sit on the edge of the bed, crawling over you as he kissed you and lightly tugged at your clothes. Quickly, you were naked beneath him, him still fully dressed. You liked that, the slight power imbalance of you being bare before him. He kissed slowly down your neck until he reached your breasts, slowly licking and sucking on each nipple until they hardened against his lips.

Already, you were worked up, your hand attempting to slip between your legs— But Robby quickly circled your wrist in his hand, pinning it back up over your head.

"I know, I know sweetheart," He cooed when you began to whine, "I'm gonna take such good care of you, I promise, just need you to be patient, yeah? You need me to make you come? Think it'll make you feel better?"

You nodded quickly, "Please, really need it."

"I know, baby," He said softly and began sucking harshly down your belly, working his way down to where you craved him the most, "You're being so good for me. You already wet for me?" He reached two fingers between your legs, collected your slickness on his fingers as you sighed at the contact, "That all for me?"

You nodded, "Only for you."

He smiled up at you and kissed the inside of your thigh, "Hm, let's see if you taste as sweet as you sound when you beg for me."

The first swipe of his tongue had your back arching up and off the mattress. From the very first time you slept with him, it had been obvious your sexual compatibility had been off the charts. You had never told him this, but he was easily the best sex you'd ever had. It alarmed you how quickly he learned your body and how fast he could pull you to the edge when he wanted to.

Today he was torturously slow, but he also knew that despite your begging, you liked being teased. That you never came harder than you did after he'd repeatedly nearly brought you to the edge, only to pull you back at the last second.

After a while of this, you with tears streaming down your cheeks, he slipped a finger inside of you, pumping slowly, matching the pace of his tongue against your clit.

"Robby— Robby, please, please, let me come."

He hummed against you, but did not remove his mouth from you. The ocean receded from the shore, building steadily in the background, the impending crash growing larger and larger by the second. He sped his movements incrementally until you were grinding against his mouth, chasing your high—And then the wave broke and you were crying out, Robby's name hanging from your tongue as he worked you through it.

Your limbs felt loose and useless at your sides, thighs shaking as Robby finally let up and crawled back up to you. You pulled him down by the neck to kiss him, your juices smearing from his beard to your chin, the taste of you evident on his tongue.

Moments later, you began pulling at his clothes, helping him get undressed. Immediately, when his cock sprung from his boxers, you had a hand wrapped around it, stroking him eagerly as he sucked on your tongue.

When he finally pushed himself inside you, your mind went quiet as it usually did when he fucked you. It reminded you of when you were young and had fallen asleep to the television on, only to wake up to the monotone frequency and rainbow pattern across the screen.

"Feel so good, sweetheart," He had you folded nearly in half, still fucking you at a slow and gentle pace. You stared up at him, admiring the view. Beyond how good he felt inside you, especially when you were extra sensitive after an orgasm, when he was in control you thought he was exceptionally beautiful with a fucked out expression on his face. He was flushed red from the exertion and sweat dripped down his back when you dragged your fingernails across his skin, "Jesus Christ, think your pussy was made to take my cock like this, wasn't it?"

You hummed in response, pulling him down closer to you so you could suck and bite along his neck and shoulders. You felt his cock twitch inside you and gasped, your walls tightening in response and Robby swore.

The fatigue from your orgasm was beginning to wear off and you started bucking your hips up to meet his with every thrust, needing him deeper and harder, "There you go, angel," he cooed, "Such a good girl, aren't you?"

As you nodded, he pressed his thumb against your chin, prompting you to open your mouth. He slipped two fingers inside, stroking them against your tongue until you closed your mouth around them, humming and bobbing your head around them as if they were his cock.

You watched Robby's eyes, the way they so subtly changed at the sight of you sucking on his fingers. It undid him, with your walls fluttering around his cock and your pretty mouth taking his fingers, taking everything he gave you, "Ah, fuck." He swore and then rutted his hips into you faster and harder, his fingers slipping out of your mouth.

The sensation of him thrusting into you over and over had you seeing stars. You never felt so loose, so free as you did with him inside you like this. Nothing else existed outside of where your bodies connected and held one another. Maybe it was this utterly uninhibited feeling that had you gasping as you looked up at him, "I love you."

His eyes widened slightly as he processed what you had said—and then he was coming, the sounds he made as he did sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

He collapsed against you after finishing, his cock still inside you and softening. Turning your head towards him, you claimed his mouth. Despite the fact that it was over, you still felt needy for him, for this closeness, the intimacy of it. It also helped that you didn't wish for him to speak yet. Didn't wish to hear him let you down easy after you'd so recklessly declared your affection. He kissed you back after grunting a bit in surprise and then a moment later he pulled away, a gentle hand still at your throat.

"Hold on, I, before anything else, I just—"

"It's fine," You said quickly, "We can pretend I didn't say anything, I didn't—I got caught up in the moment."

He opened and closed his mouth for a moment, eyes narrowing, "Well, did you mean it?"

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, eyes searching his for what the correct answer was. You had meant it. Had felt it for a while, had thought it to yourself more times than you could count, almost every time you looked at him these days. If you were honest, you loved him so much, you threatened to burst at the seams with it.

"If it helps," He said finally, sensing your hesitancy, "I love you too," He said, his voice impossibly tender and hopeful, "I love you so much I sometimes ache with it."

Your breath stuttered and a hesitant smile began to stretch across your face, "You do?"

He nodded, fingers gently caressing your cheek as he pressed his nose into yours.

"I love you," You said again, a little breathless, "I meant it."

He grinned and kissed you and when you opened your eyes again, his were looking into yours, shining impossibly bright with what you hoped were happy tears.

Later, after you'd eaten way too much Chinese takeout in your underwear on the couch, Robby paused the TV show you'd been watching.

"Hey—" You said, pushing yourself up from where you'd been comfortably resting against his chest, "Why'd you do that?"

He sighed and pulled you both up to sitting, much to your chagrin, "I wanted to talk to you. About your father."

You stiffened slightly. Here it was, the impossible ultimatum he was bound to give you. He couldn't help with your father anymore and so it was your father or Robby. You could not continue to have both.

"I've been doing some research," he started, "And I talked to Noelle about it—"

"You were talking to your ex about my father?"

He winced, "Just, let me finish?"

You huffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Fine."

"Noelle told me that you could combine your father's Medicare as well as your own benefits, have you heard of the Hospital at Home program?"

You frowned and shook your head stubbornly, "No."

"One of our benefits to working at the hospital includes extremely discounted part time home health care, for either ourselves or family."

You opened and closed your mouth, "Oh."

He nodded, "Yeah, so what I was thinking is that combining those two would likely get you at least to cover the day time hours… And um, I looked into overnight care—"

"I can already tell you I can't afford that."

"I know," he said, placing a hand on your ankle, "I know, which is why I wanted to offer to pay for it."

You stared at him for a long time, and then blinked, "Robby, that's—that's too much—"

"It's not," he said shaking his head, "Really, I promise it's not. I'm pretty frugal with my money, I haven't had anyone to spend it on in a really, really long time. I can't think of a better use for it. Let me close the gap for you. Please."

You felt a burning in your eyes and looked down at your hands, not wanting him to see you cry. The immediate relief at just the prospect of not having to be your father's around the clock care was overwhelming. It felt like a dam was splintering and cracking behind your eyes.

"You're sure?" You said finally, hearing the tears in your own voice.

He squeezed your ankle lightly, "Yeah, positive. We can start interviewing nurses next week."

You nodded, your vision blurring from the tears, "Thank you." You said and as the dam fully broke, he pulled you into his lap.

"I've got you, baby."

***

EPILOGUE— TWO YEARS LATER

Your father dying was something you had thought about for quite some time, but the reality of it had been quite different than you'd imagined.

You'd expected to feel almost nothing by the time he died. After all, he'd become a shell of the man you knew. He hadn't been himself for quite a long time. And by the time he passed, he remembered Robby's name better than yours.

But when he had died, for some reason you laid in bed beside him for a long time, wailing like a child. You couldn't understand it and that made you cry more.

Robby had held you for a while that night, had wondered aloud if maybe you were mourning that you had never been able to fix your relationship with him. If maybe deep down you had wished to fully understand the way he treated you, if you had been hoping for an apology.

Your father had been the only person to ever know what you were like as a rambunctious kid, skinned knees and digging in the dirt for worms. The girl who begged to take a bird inside with a broken wing to try and nurse it back to health, only to have it die in the night. You had been inconsolable for days afterwards no matter how he tried to bribe you with sweets and toys. Only your father knew the girl who watched the Wizard of Oz on repeat for an entire summer, walking around the house in braids, a blue gingham dress, and ruby red slippers every single day.

He was the only person alive who knew you when you were still soft and curious and unconditionally hopeful. And sure, he had crushed the spirit out of her pretty quickly, but you always knew he remembered her the way you did. But now he was dead and he'd taken most of her with him.

The burial had been a short affair. Your father had cut most ties he had with anyone once he retired twenty years ago and so most of the people who showed up were his home health nurses, Robby, Cecelia, Dana, and other coworkers from the Pitt. Your father's dogs—now your dogs—Franklin and Garner had laid at his headstone and whined softly throughout.

And then, when it was all said and done, you'd let yourself rot on the couch with the dogs for what felt like months. The house was quiet now. If you thought it'd been filled with ghosts before, it practically overflowed with them now.

Finally, Robby came home one day, took one look at you and the dogs laying pathetically on the couch, remote hanging from your hand and said, "That's it. We're leaving. Pack up your shit."

"Where are we going?" You asked, sounding bored.

"My cabin in the mountains."

And so Robby had packed you and the dogs into his car and drove you out of the city. You spent a few days there and he finally got you to admit that you felt like he'd been the last person alive to really know what you were like before he beat the whimsy out of you.

But Robby had shaken his head, "That's not true, I know her too." When you frowned he went on, "I see her whenever you roll in the grass with the dogs, when you sing a silly song to the kids in the ER to distract them from an IV or a blood draw, when we go out dancing with McKay and I have to physically remove you from the dance floor." He placed a finger against your chest, "She's still in there. She's not dead until you are."

It had moved you so thoroughly that after a few moments you blurted out, "Will you marry me?"

He had grinned so wide his crow's feet nearly swallowed his eyes whole and you'd made love until the sun came up.

As the months and years passed and Robby stayed firmly by your side, you learned to love with abandon and so did he. You never again woke up in the morning wondering if he still loved you or if he planned to leave, because the second he opened his eyes and saw you, there was always a smile on his face. And in turn, you stopped looking for an escape hatch.

Love could not heal on its own, that much you knew to be true. But it was also true that love had held your hand and led you to the door for healing, had stood there with you until you felt ready to walk through it. Love didn't make you worthy, but it had insisted stubbornly day in and day out that you were worthy if you would just open your eyes and see it for yourself.

Love hadn't made you want to live again, but it had held you, patient and steadfast when you didn't and reminded you that the feeling would pass.

It was snatched away from you just like that. You were angry and more than a little bitter and you wanted to get fucked up on a beach about it.

There would be no men on this vacation, you decided. It would be all too easy to fall in bed with a gorgeous specimen and drown yourself in someone else. You'd spiral down the same path you'd only just narrowly escaped. Because that's how you were framing it now, that you were lucky all this had happened, that you learned who he really was before the wedding.

It didn't make it all hurt any less though, no matter how you tried to pretend it did.

So men were off limits. Yep, they sure were. You almost made it through to the end of the trip having followed through. Until you met him.

As luck would have it, the resort you'd chosen in Jamaica had been overrun with middle aged men, exactly your type. At first, you had thought it'd be an inhuman feat to get home without falling victim to some older man's flirting. But quickly, you noticed all of these men were here with their wives and had exhaled a sigh of relief. Immediately, all desire for them evaporated and it was much easier to ignore them.

So when a tall, handsome, bearded man took the pool chair next to you your last morning you didn't bother to even look up from your book.

"Gorgeous weather we're having, wouldn't you say?" His voice was warm with amusement, a pleasant grate to it against your ears.

You sighed and turned a page, "No," You said simply.

He gave a short, incredulous laugh, "Excuse me?"

"The weather's lovely, but I'm not interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Sleeping with you."

He chortled quietly and out of your peripheral, you saw him shake his head, "Well I don't recall asking you that."

You sighed, "Look, I'm young, but I wasn't born yesterday. And, my God, how long have you been married that the best you could do was ask about the weather?"

Finally, you looked at him, and were immediately grateful your sunglasses could not betray the way your pupils likely dilated at the sight of him. So thoroughly exactly your type: Tall, slightly graying beard, brown hair and brown eyes, a hairy chest that led to a soft tummy, the beginnings of a beer belly, protruding just slightly over the waistband of his bathing suit. Oh, you were going to be sick.

Amused smirk on his face, he scratched the back of his head, "Well, I guess that explains why I've never been married, if my flirting is as horrendous as you say."

You blinked and your eyes darted immediately to his left hand. No ring. "You're not married?" You asked, note of fear in your voice. If he wasn't married this was going to make things much more difficult for you.

He shook his head, "No."

You weren't entirely convinced and you had been burned before by men claiming not to be married, but it turned out they had simply taken their ring off for the evening.

Clenching your jaw, you held out your hand, "May I see your hand?"

He gave you a funny look, but obliged you, likely amused by your bizarre behavior. His hand dwarfed yours, warm and calloused in your own. You resisted the urge to intertwine your fingers and closely examined his ring finger. No indentation, no hint of a tan line. If he had ever worn a wedding band, he had taken it off long ago.

Satisfied, you returned his hand and leaned back in your chair, turning your attention back to your book, "I'm still not sleeping with you."

"Again, I never asked you to."

"Not yet, but you will. The answer will still be no."

You had said it more for your own benefit than his, but you suspected he had taken it as a challenge. So you learned each other's names and he had spent the whole day chatting with you, asking about your book, asking you why you were here, if your ire for men encompassed the whole gender or was it reserved exclusively for married men.

"All of them, at the moment. You can thank my cheating ex-fiance for that."

"He must've been out of his mind to cheat on you." He said softly, and it didn't sound like a line to use, it sounded genuine.

But you scoffed, "You don't know me, maybe I'm a raging psychotic bitch who drove him to cheat."

He shook his head, "Nah, I don't buy it. I suspect this prickly exterior is just to act as a deterrent."

You felt your cheeks heat, "And you're not deterred?"

"Not in the slightest."

Chatting at the pool turned into drinks by the pool turned into drinks in the pool turned into lunch by the pool until the sun began to wane.

"Come to dinner with me." He said as everyone was beginning to abandon the pool.

"I'm not sleeping with you," you repeated your mantra, but it was beginning to sound false even to your own ears.

"I'm not asking you to," He repeated, and you knew he was lying as well.

Dinner turned into drinks turned into a walk on the beach under the stars. As the waves crashed against the shore, he kissed you in the moonlight and when you moaned into his mouth you knew he had won.

Which was how you'd ended up naked back in his room, straddled on top of him, worshiping his chest and belly with lips and teeth and tongue. You weren't entirely sure what you had done to deserve the sort of pleasure that was overtaking you now, sparking through every inch of your skin that met his.

Until he gently gripped your chin in between his fingers and brought your face up to his own, so you could see just how desperate and breathless you'd made him. Dewy brown eyes looked up at you, heavy with lust and awe as you rocked your hips back and forth, your pussy dragging over his hard cock and clit rubbing against the soft pudge of his belly with every stroke.

You ground your slick folds against anything, anything to find purchase. Your clit rode the incline from groin to belly button, moaning into his mouth as you did.

"You're gonna come just like this, aren't you baby?" He murmured, "Rubbing your clit on anything will do the job, hm? You're that desperate for me?"

Normally his cockiness would've pissed you off, but you were so desperate for him it only surged you forward, pathetic whimper falling from your lips where he gripped your cheeks.

"Go on, sweetheart, come for me."

And suddenly you were unraveling and crying out his name as you did. He had positioned your hips over his cock afterwards, driving you up and down his erection himself while you were dumb on the aftershocks of your orgasm, clit occasionally rubbing against his belly again as he did, sending sparks across your body.

When it was over, you had begun to gather your things to head back to your room, "Where're you going?" He asked, voice rough with sleep.

"Back to my room."

"Oh," he said, a note of surprise, and was that… disappointment? In his voice? "You could, um, you could sleep here if you wanted."

You resisted a smirk as you looked up at him, "Robby, are you asking me to sleep with you?"

A grin stretched across his face, "Yeah, I think I am. If you'd reconsider your previous decision."

You pretended to think it over, but you had really already decided. You'd lost your own battle, why deny yourself the softness afterwards as well? Those eyes, those hands, that face, that voice, had won you over from the moment you saw him.

And so, you were back in bed with him, curled up against his chest with his lips at your temple. You reminded yourself that all this was just temporary, that tomorrow you'd both be leaving, likely to another side of the country, and you'd never see him again.

You continued to remind yourself this as you both woke up the next morning and you gathered your things, intending to head back to your room to pack.

"Hey, um, I know we're on vacation and we're both thinking that's all this is, but…" He took out a card from his wallet and began scribbling what you assumed was his number on the back, "If you're ever in town, give me a call."

You smirked as you took the card, already knowing you'd get rid of it when you got home. You desperately needed to be alone for a while and you had already broken too many rules for him in the space of 24 hours. You shuddered to think what other rules he could convince you to break if you allotted him any more time.

But as you went to place the card in your wallet, your eyes caught on the front:

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center

Michael Robinavitch, MD

Emergency Medicine, Department Head

And your heart stuttered to a stop in your chest. Oh, this couldn't be happening, "Fuck."

"What? What is it?"

Your mind raced backwards to the interview you'd had a month ago with Dana Evans. The grumpy attending she'd told you might need a little time to adjust to you. That he struggled with change but he had a good heart and if you did a good job (which you would, you were a fucking stellar charge nurse) he'd come around.

"You're Dr. Robinavitch?" You asked, a little breathless.

He looked at you, confusion evident in his face, "…Yes?"

You sighed heavily, resigned to whatever fresh hell this was turning out to be, all because you couldn't have just kept to your one fucking rule. No men.

You reintroduced yourself and stuck out your hand, "I'm your new charge nurse."

***

Robby's head had been spinning ever since you had told him you would be taking over for Dana for a while. It wasn't that big of a deal he tried to tell himself. It was possible to maintain a mature, professional relationship even if you had slept with a colleague.

He just wished he had had the chance to know you professionally first.

"You can't tell anyone," You had said frantically that morning, "You have to pretend you don't know me when I come in."

He had rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head, "Seems a bit high school, don't you think?"

"No," you snapped, "I know how much everyone there must love Dana because I met her! She's phenomenal! Do you know how hard it's gonna be for me to earn everyone's respect? And if on day one everyone knows I slept with the attending?"

He looked down at his shoes, shrugging his shoulders, "Honestly I think a lot of them would respect you for it. Might even consider it community service given how miserable I've been lately." When he looked back up, you were glaring at him and he managed a chuckle, "Fine, okay. We'll act like it never happened if that's what you want."

"It is."

He nodded, but felt a kernel of disappointment in his chest. He wasn't sure why, exactly. He knew when he slept with you it would likely be a one night stand, but the idea of acting like he didn't know you when he had spent the last twenty four hours wooing you felt wrong.

To complicate matters further he didn't want to like Dana's replacement. And he found already there was resentment brewing within him, both for replacing Dana and for dictating your nonexistent relationship.

"Great," He said, turning his back on you, "Then I'll see you in the Pitt."

And so now he sat at his work station, glasses perched on his nose as he pretended to chart while Dana reiterated that you'd be coming in today to shadow. He'd nodded and nervously scratched the back of his head, avoiding meeting her eyes.

"Robinavitch."

"Yeah?" his jaw shifted from side to side. Even just the sound of your name elicited memories of you on top of him, of his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your hip in the pool, of kissing you with only the stars to witness.

He had no idea how he was going to make it through today or any successive shift with you as charge.

"What's the matter with you?" Dana popped a piece of gum in her mouth, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He shook his head and looked back at the computer screen in front of him, words on the chart scrambling and bouncing off his skull, not quite penetrating.

"Just tired." He said, tossing back some of his coffee as if to prove the point.

He could feel Dana's eyes scrutinizing him still across the hub, "You know, you've been off since you got back from vacation. Thought it would've done you some good to be away from this place, but it seems to have made you worse somehow."

Your words echoed in his head. How you'd asked him to pretend to not know you. He was fairly certain he could probably be convincing of that in front of most people—But not Dana. He was almost positive the second you walked through the door she'd clock it.

What was the harm? It wasn't Dana you were worried about anyhow, it was everyone else. And if he didn't tell someone it would drive him insane.

He sighed, "I… met someone. While I was away."

Dana frowned, "Okay…" She said slowly, "Vacation fling, what's the big deal?"

"Yeah, I thought as much… Until I gave her my full name," He shook his head slowly, "You should've seen the look on her face."

Dana stared at him, blinking blankly, "You're gonna have to spell it out for me, Cap, I'm not following."

He rubbed his face with his hands, felt the flush crawling up his neck, "Well it turned out," He said finally, "My vacation fling is our new charge nurse."

After a moment of what Robby assumed was processing, Dana pulled her glasses off, "You slept with my new hire? Are you joking? Tell me you're joking."

Robby was beet red, "Could you keep it down, please? She asked me not to tell anyone."

Finally, Dana scoffed, "Son of a b—"

***

You were leaned up against the wall outside the ambulance bay, lit cigarette between your lips. Your new badge was clipped to your scrub top but you'd been mostly avoiding looking at it. Every time you saw "Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center" you were reminded of Robby's business card, of the fact that he was going to be in this building. That as charge you'd be unable to avoid him.

You looked down at your watch and saw you were three minutes late. Probably not the best first impression to have, but you'd do almost anything to prolong what was certain to be a painfully awkward reunion.

In the time between when your plane deboarded in Pittsburgh and now you had been actively fighting every urge to think about him. To remember the way he felt inside you, the sound of his voice, low and husky in your ear, his tongue between your legs—

"Fuck," you muttered, feeling the warmth spread from your belly outwards as you ground out your cigarette.

Stretching your neck from side to side, you breathed in the frigid February air slowly through your nose, and out through your mouth, opening your eyes in time to see your breath cloud in front of you. You were alive and you had been through worse. You would survive this, too. Better yet, you'd thrive.

And with that, you walked into the lion's den.

Dana spotted you first, a smile on her face as you approached. And you couldn't help it, your eyes slid to the broad shouldered doctor next to her, his face cold and distant. It was what you'd asked for, you knew. But still, you couldn't help remembering the gentle and funny man he'd been when you met. The way he'd looked at you that day felt like being warmed by the sun.

You swallowed and tore your eyes away from his to meet Dana's, forcing a smile.

"Hey, kiddo," she greeted you, "You make it in okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah, it's good to see you again, Dana."

"This is Dr. Robinavitch next to me," she gestured to Robby and you immediately reached a hand out to shake his— "Though I understand introductions are unnecessary."

Your face fell and yours and Robby's hands hung midway to one another before you dropped yours and looked up at him with abject horror.

He at least had the decency to look guilty as he sighed and turned to the woman next to him, "Really, Dana?"

"What?" She looked between the both of you, a knowing smile on her face, "We're all adults here."

But your mouth hung open, daggers in your eyes aimed exclusively at the man in front of you, "I asked you for one thing."

Before Robby could rush in to defend himself, Dana swung an arm around you and turned you away from him, "Kid, believe me. This is a blip. He only told me because I could tell something was up and I would have pinpointed it as soon as you walked in. He hasn't told anyone else and he won't, alright?"

The betrayal and anger still simmered in your peripheral at Dana's words. You felt immediately like a trapped animal, Robby having coaxed you into a cage and tossing away the key. You had trust issues. Your last relationship had ended terribly, marred by betrayal and a complete upheaval of the person you thought you had known best. It wasn't easy to trust anyone after that. You had let Robby slip past your defenses too easily, lulled by the idea of never having to see him again.

Well, now, he'd have a tough time surpassing your "prickly exterior" as he had so affectionately called it. Now, it would become an absolute fortress, hostile to any potential invaders, especially him.

"I just don't want that to be everyone's first impression of me," You said softly to Dana, still unable to look at her for the embarrassment.

"It won't be," She squeezed your shoulder, "As long as it's done now, yes?" She forced eye contact with you, "It was one and done, right?"

"Yes," you said immediately, "absolutely."

"Alright, then don't sweat it, kid. No one's gonna find out anything. Now," She gestured behind her and in a moment you felt Robby's presence beside you, though you didn't look at him, "Let's do rounds with the doctors, alright?"

You nodded, tried to calm yourself as you jotted notes on each patient, but it was hard to jolt yourself from your thoughts.

That was, until a hypothermic child was rolled in and then you had purpose again. You hardly noticed Robby next to you as he called out orders, already flagging a Respiratory Therapist to assist with intubation and the warming and humidifying of the ventilation circuit to attempt to warm the lungs.

Before Robby could ask, you gently removed the family from the room, attempted to gather more information about the accident that brought the child in.

"His clothes were wet, did he fall through some ice on a lake or a pond?"

His mother shook her head, eyes red rimmed, "No, I—I don't think so. I think he was just outside for too long." Her face crumpled, "He has autism. I didn't even know he'd gone outside. Is he going to be okay?"

Before you could say anything, you felt Robby behind you, "He's stable right now and we're working to warm him up. His heart seems healthy, if a bit slower than it should be. We're helping him breathe right now and using humidified air to warm up his lungs. I'll come find you when we have an update."

"Can we see him?"

"Of course."

The parents thanked Robby profusely and then headed into the trauma room and you immediately began walking to the Hub where Dana was.

"Hey—" You felt his warm hand at your forearm and flinched as you turned to face him. He dropped his hand, a flicker of something you couldn't quite place was there and gone, "I wanted to talk to you for a second—"

"Is it about work?"

"No," He said slowly, "I—"

"Dr. Robby," You looked around nervously to make sure no one was watching the two of you, "From here on out our relationship is strictly professional. I don't want to discuss personal matters with you and I certainly don't want to discuss them here. Okay? Are we good?"

He stared at you and this time you recognized the irritation in the set of his jaw, "I only wanted to apologize to you for telling Dana. I didn't do it maliciously, I just know her and she's… very observant. It was just easier to have it out in the open—"

"Easier for who?" You snapped, "I imagine it's very easy for you to just brush things like this off in the workplace. You're not the first attending I've slept with, I know how this goes. I bet you sweep a new woman off her feet every week in this hospital. I'm sure I'm just another in a very long, forgotten list. The problem is that long after you've forgotten, everyone else will remember the women you've discarded."

He scoffed, looking bewildered, "I'm—I'm sorry have I done something to offend you? Beyond the obvious? This—" He gestured between you, "—reaction seems disproportionate to what happened today."

You shrugged, "I'm not upset, I just want to be clear that there is and will be nothing more between us than a collegial relationship."

He crossed his arms and looked down at this feet, "Understood, I just wanted to—"

"No need," You smiled, "I'll see you around."

Then you left him standing there, feeling confused and dumb and maybe a little angry, though he wouldn't admit that yet. No, he would not give you the satisfaction of seeing how easily you'd gotten under his skin.

Robby thought himself an empathetic man and it didn't take a genius to understand why you were lashing out at him. He remembered dismissive comments about hating men and a cheating fiancé. You had let him in so easily in Jamaica because you didn't think you'd have to see him again. Now that the two of you would be working together, the stakes were higher. You had to cut him out like a cancer before he metastasized, before he reached your heart.

And fuck, he knew he should respect that. He should have backed off right then.

But the fact that you were so terrified to let him get close meant that what you were really afraid of was your own desire. In other words, he could have another chance to touch you. He'd also thought he'd never see you again after the first time, but finding out that you would be working here had had him revisiting your night together and longing for your skin instead of deterring him.

So once again, Icarus spread his wings, his eyes turned up to the sun.

***

Robby had to jog to catch up to you after shift ended. You had left in a hurry, dismissive of all his attempts at conversation unless it was about a patient.

"Is this gonna be an issue?" Dana had asked him quietly when there was just an hour left of the shift and you had once again skirted past his attempts to address the tension between you, "The girl becomes Houdini whenever you enter a five foot radius."

"I'll sort it out." He said sighing, watching you from across the way. The child that had come in with hypothermia earlier that day was awake and the two of you smiling at each other as you took his vitals. Something you said made him laugh and your grin widened. It nearly knocked him out.

So now he was running to catch up with you, "Hey—" he called out when he was close enough, out of breath, "Hang on a sec—"

You sighed when you saw him next to you, matching your stride, "I thought we understood each other—"

"You haven't let me get a goddamn word in all day so I don't know what would give you that idea."

He watched as your whole body tensed up. You were still avoiding looking at him, "I want to be adults about this—"

Robby stepped in front of you, walked slowly backwards to force you to look at him, "Is that why you're avoiding me like a schoolgirl with a crush?"

It was obvious you weren't enjoying the fact that he was now cornering you and you had no choice, but to listen to him. You rolled your neck and slowed to a stop in front of him, "I'm not avoiding you. Last I checked, you should be able to do your job without my input. There was nothing about babysitting the attending physician in the job description."

You sidestepped him as he laughed softly to himself. You were so goddamn antagonistic it was infuriating.

"If you can't handle working with me, collaboratively," He called after you, "Then I'll have to tell Dana that she needs to find a different charge nurse."

You stopped walking and slowly turned back towards him, "You wouldn't do that." You said, but your voice betrayed you. You were uncertain.

He was bluffing. First of all, Dana would kill him if she had to put off leaving for a while because he had defiled their promising new hire. Second, even though it had only been one shift and you had been avoiding him as if your life depended on it, it was easy to see that you were a good charge nurse and finding a nurse at all in need of employment was rare. Third—and the reason that brought him the most shame—he really wanted to sleep with you again and he suspected if he fired you, you'd be unlikely to indulge him.

But right now, you didn't need to know any of that.

"I certainly don't want to," he shrugged, "but the working relationship between a charge nurse and the attending physician is probably the most important in our department. If we don't work well together it all falls apart. So… do you think you could put our little dalliance behind you?"

Slowly, you walked up to him until you were toe to toe. Until you were close enough to kiss him if you just pushed up on your toes. His breathing faltered at your closeness and a smug look transformed your face when you noticed, "Can you?"

The scent of you sat heady in his nostrils, and despite himself, Robby felt himself leaning into it, mouth hovering just above yours. If he closed his eyes, he was back in the Caribbean, your tongue in his mouth tasting of rum and sea salt.

Swallowing, he took a step back from you, "Sure can."

Your grin widened, "Then we're good."

He cleared his throat, "You'll stop avoiding me?"

You nodded and looked down at your watch, "Sure, I really have to go now, though."

"Let me walk you home."

You snorted, "No, I don't want you to know where I live."

He frowned, "What do you think I'll do with that information?"

"Probably show up in the middle of the night begging to slip into my bed," You smirked and started to walk away from him again, "Goodnight, Doctor Robinavitch."

"I would not—We said—It's Robby." He called after you, exasperated, but you ignored him.

He wasn't used to someone getting under his skin like this. In fact, it was usually him doing the irritating. But you were so good at needling him to the point of being flustered.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself as he watched you disappear into the dark.

It would be annoying how frustrating he found you if it didn't also turn him on.

But that was just fine. If you wanted to play games then he'd set the match.

***

You hesitated for just a moment as you turned the key in the doorknob of your childhood home. As always, when you walked through the threshold you were cocooned by old ghosts.

You leaned against the door as you closed it behind you, pressing your entire weight into it so you could slide the deadbolt into place. Though, you thought, the deadbolt likely wouldn't supply much protection if someone thought to break in, the wood around the hinges beginning to splinter and crack. All that stood between you and the outside world was a good kick from a steel-toed boot.

You let your backpack fall from your shoulder to the hardwoods, kicking off your New Balances as you did. You listened to the familiar sounds of the house: the hum of the refrigerator (the appliance was as old as you were and had only gotten louder as time passed), a Jeopardy! rerun playing in the TV room, and your father's snores echoing down the hallway.

You padded towards the TV room where you found Cecelia on the couch, illuminated by the blue light from the TV as she crocheted diligently. She looked up slightly from her project when you entered the doorway, but continued counting quietly to herself as you sat down next to her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Cecelia had been the first emergency charge nurse you'd shadowed at Presby when you were still in college. And since you had never known your mother, you had imprinted on her immediately like a little duckling. Luckily, she had taken to you as well. She was the reason you'd gotten the job at PTMC since Dana had been her sorority sister once upon a time.

Having retired during COVID, she spent her time now with her kids and grandkids. And you. And occasionally your father, when you needed the help.

"How was your first day?" She asked, once she'd written down where she'd left off on the sweater she was crocheting in a notebook.

"Long," You said solemnly.

She pointed to a mug sitting on the coffee table in front of you, "Made you tea."

You sighed and picked it up, the warmth of the mug leeching into your hands and spreading. The steam caressed your face and you inhaled greedily—chamomile.

"Thank you," you said softly and took a sip, "How was he today?"

It had been two years since your father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. You were an only child, your mother had left both of you when you were an infant, and your father had no other family as far as you knew. Except for a single cousin who, up until a couple of months ago, had been taking care of him as the disease progressed. Until in an episode of confusion, your father had punched him, convinced he was an intruder in his home.

And so, the responsibilities had passed to you.

"Okay, tired, which is why I let him go to bed before you got home. I saw some bruises on him when I took him to the bathroom earlier. Did he sleep through the night last night?"

You closed your eyes and rubbed at your forehead, "Uh, no. Sorry I forgot to mention that. He, um, he fell. Trying to get out of bed last night."

Cecelia hummed, "So you didn't get much sleep then either, I assume."

You shook your head, "Guilty."

She sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Honey, I'm worried about you. He's only gonna get worse. I really think you should look into around the clock care—"

"I can't afford it," You shook your head, "And he blew all his money gambling before I knew how sick he was. Before anyone knew how sick he was."

"There are programs," she said softly, "For people who can't afford it. Ask Dana, someone in that hospital should be able to help you."

You pondered that in silence for a moment, but the truth was you didn't want anyone else taking care of him. It was bad enough subjecting Cecelia to it and that was only because she had absolutely insisted so that you could work and you had insisted on paying her. You couldn't pay her much, in fact it was sort of criminal how little you were paying her, but you really didn't have the money to give and she wouldn't have accepted more anyway.

The money didn't change the fact that you didn't know how you'd forgive yourself if in his confusion your father hurt Cecelia.

"I can talk to Dana—"

"No," You said quickly, "Thank you, but I—I can handle it."

Cecelia eyed you warily and then hummed, "He kept asking for an 'Evie' today. Do you know who that is? Kept asking when she'd be home from work."

Your stomach knotted and you turned away from her, "Yeah, that's my mom's name. Evelyn. He called her Evie."

Cecelia squeezed your shoulders, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I know this is hard on you."

It was hard. Uplifting your whole life to take care of a man who had never paid you much attention unless it was to yell at you. Losing the man you thought you were going to marry in the midst of it all. Moving back into this house all alone was turning you into the isolated, reactionary child you used to be. You could feel her trying to work her way out of you, sticky fingers and sharp tongue, especially whenever you were talking to Robby. Something about him had her stomping her feet and sticking out her tongue.

"It's okay," You said and then stood, "Let me walk you out."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning?" She asked as she pulled on her shoes.

You nodded, "Yes, thank you for doing this."

"After twenty something years in an ED this is a cake walk." She said and pulled you into a hug, "I'm happy to do it for you. I'd do more if I could."

The backs of your eyes burned and you furiously blinked it away as you pulled back, "You've done more than enough."

You closed the door behind her, leaning against the door again so you could lock the deadbolt. With Cecilia gone, you got ready for bed and then curled up on the couch in the TV room. You didn't like to sleep in your childhood bed, had tried a few times now since moving back and had gotten repeated nightmares. Besides, it was easier to hear your father from the couch.

As if on cue, Franklin, one of your father's German Shepherds padded out of your father's room to sleep at your feet. You reached a hand out to stroke his head once he'd settled. Your father had two German Shepherds, Franklin, named after Franklin D. Roosevelt and Garner, named after FDR's first vice president, John Nance Garner.

Garner couldn't be bothered with anyone who wasn't your father, but Franklin had always liked you best. Which was just as well, because it made you feel better knowing Garner had an eye on your dad while he was sleeping.

"Goodnight, Mr. President." You said softly, and closed your eyes, the sounds of Jeopardy! lulling you to sleep.

***

Robby's eyes were closed, but the images from the TV still bled through to the backs of his eyelids. A woman was asleep next to him. He couldn't quite remember her name. Jennifer or Jessica or Jillian… He had gone for a beer after walking away from you not intending to bring anyone home. But she'd been persistent and something about her had reminded him of you. The sarcastic tilt of her mouth much like yours.

Now that she was asleep, he thought he had wanted it to be you so badly any similarities he might've seen were a figment of his imagination.

Along with the blue light of the TV, your face occasionally flashed behind his eyelids. Sleep seemed faraway and impossible with your ghost haunting every corner and crevice of his mind.

The game of solving the mystery of you had been a welcome distraction while he was on vacation, a vacation that had been essentially forced upon him by the higher ups. He had spent most of it booking excursion after excursion or drinking himself into oblivion. Until he met you that last day.

He thought he had you figured out, but he was starting to realize he had barely scratched the surface of you that day. Why wouldn't you let him walk you home? He suspected there was more to it than your teasing about him trying to slip inside with you.

It was easier to distract himself with thoughts of you, with the novel stimulation of having a new puzzle to solve, than it was to deal with his own shit.

He turned his head to the side and blinked his eyes open to see the woman sleeping next to him and heard your voice echo in his mind: I'm sure I'm just another in a very long, forgotten list. The problem is that long after you've forgotten, everyone else will remember the women you've discarded.

He hadn't meant for it to ever be that way, but as he looked at this woman next to him and tried and failed to recall her name, he knew you were right. In being reckless with himself, there had been collateral damage.

The problem was, he wasn't quite sure how to stop.

***

It had been three or four weeks now since you started in the Pitt, you had lost count. The days tended to blend together. It didn't help that you couldn't recall the last time you had gotten a proper night's sleep. Your father had been waking up more and more throughout the night until you were so anxious anticipating it that you were averaging maybe three hours of sleep a night if you were lucky.

You were spending all, or most of your energy being kind and supportive for your staff and so had very little patience for Robby. And he had been pissing you off already this morning. Moving patients around without telling you. Assigning incoming triage to rooms without telling you. He was fucking with your board and that already pissed you off, but then you saw Princess at the bedside of a patient you had specifically assigned to Jesse and you back pedaled.

"Princess?" She smiled as she saw you and walked over, "I assigned Jesse this patient because it's a more physically demanding case and you're still recovering—"

"I know," She said quickly, "and thank you, I just, Robby asked Jesse to switch with me. The patient only speaks French, it was faster than calling an interpreter."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "That's not—I mean, thank you for telling me, but it's unacceptable. He can't just do that without telling me."

Princess shrugged, "I don't know, that's how him and Dana used to work."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Dana," You sighed, "Sorry, my drama with Robby isn't your problem. Do you need anything? A break?"

She shook her head, "I'll holler if I need you."

Fuming, you stormed off toward the Hub where you found Robby looking up at the board, "How are we doing? Can we clear some of these beds out?"

Despite your irritation, you stretched your neck, "North 11 and South 20 are going up to Med-Surg, I was able to get an ICU bed for North 4, and Perlah is getting North 1 discharged."

"Great, keep me updated."

He started to walk away, but you trailed after him, "Do you have any issue with the way I'm doing things?"

He frowned and shook his head, "No."

"Do you think you can do my job better than I can?"

He stopped and turned fully to face you, "What is this about?"

"You fuck with my board, you don't even let me know that you fuck with my board, I have to hear about it from my nurses—"

"Your board?"

"Sorry, is bed management in your job description?"

He scoffed and ran a hand over the back of his head, "Dana didn't have a problem with me occasionally moving things around on the board—"

"Dana's not charge anymore," You snapped, "I am. And I also don't appreciate you changing my assignments around. There's a reason I gave North 8 to Jesse and not Princess. She's injured and I'm trying to give her a lighter case load—"

"Princess didn't seem bothered when I asked her to switch with Jesse—"

"Of course she didn't!" You said, exasperated, "Do you think she's going to say no to an attending?"

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "I don't know where you worked last, but I do like to foster a relationship of mutual respect with my nurses. I promise you they're all very comfortable saying no to me."

Your lip curled, "Well maybe you could show me some of that respect by letting me do my job."

He stared at you for a moment, challenge in his eyes, and you realized that he was enjoying this. He wanted to spar with you, wanted to see how far he could push you before you backed down.

Well you wouldn't fucking roll over for anyone, and certainly not for him.

"I like to have some semblance of control over all aspects of my ED—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, I think you mean my ED. Your paycheck may say you run this place, but let's not forget how quickly it would fall apart without me. It is, in fact, my circus and my monkeys." You felt your voice raise and the telltale feeling of eyes turning on you. But you couldn't find it in you to stop, "And one bearded, six foot monkey is really beginning to test my patience so if you don't back off, you're going to find out just how fast this place will burn to the ground if I walk out."

It wasn't the first time you had reamed out an attending, but it was the first time that one had smirked at you like that afterwards. It was certainly the first time one had looked at you with hunger in his eyes after you'd just put him in his place.

Eyes darting to your mouth and then back up to your eyes, he leaned in to your ear, "You speak to me like that again in front of the department, we're gonna have a problem."

And then he was gone, leaving you still simmering and with an audience. The charge phone started to ring. God, you were so fucking tired.

Later, you were taking a smoke break outside when Mateo found you, "Sorry," you said immediately and put out your cigarette, "I'll be back inside in a minute."

"Oh, no, I actually came out to invite you to drinks after shift at Paddy's. A few of us are going for Kim's birthday."

Oh. Well that certainly was a surprise. It wasn't that you thought anyone explicitly didn't like you (except maybe Robby), but you didn't think they liked you enough to invite you out. At least, not yet.

But Cecelia was with your father. You couldn't make her stay later so that you could go get a drink. She was already doing so much for you.

"Thank you for the invite, really, but I… I don't think I can make it tonight."

"Okay," Mateo nodded and smiled, "Well, open invitation if you change your mind."

When he was gone, you stood outside for a couple of extra minutes, thinking about everything you'd left behind to be here.

You had told Robby while you were on vacation that your ex-fiancé had cheated on you. But that wasn't true. He hadn't cheated on you. He had just decided that when you moved back to Pittsburgh to take care of your father he wasn't going to come with you. Made some dismissive comments about it "being super sad" and "depressing" and "a real bummer."

You had always been attracted to older men and your fiancé had been no exception. He was a good fifteen years older than you. The problem with men that age was that if they were still single, there was usually a reason. Your fiancé's being that he refused to grow the fuck up. You had told him if he wasn't prepared to be by your side when shit got hard, including your father's impending death, then you couldn't share a life with him. And he had calmly shrugged his shoulders and asked for the ring back.

Six years prior you had moved across the country for him. You built a life in the Pacific Northwest with him. You had friends there. All of that disappeared when you moved back to Pittsburgh. And despite the fact that you'd grown up here, you didn't have any friends, only acquaintances. You had always been an exceptionally difficult person to love. You thought you got that from your father.

Though you acted like you didn't care, there was a small part of you that wanted things to be different now that you were older. You wanted to build a community rather than pretend to be so disdainful of human connection so when it didn't find you you could pretend you hadn't wanted it in the first place.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you drafted a text to Cecelia: Would you be able to stay a bit later tonight? Some of the nurses are going out for drinks. I'd only stay for one round.

You were about to head back inside when her reply came through: Of course, sweetheart. That just means more alone time with my crochet project. Take your time.

Stifling a smile, you headed back into the Pitt.

***

You were two beers deep, sandwiched between Princess and Kim in a booth when you saw Robby walk into Paddy's. It pissed you off the way just looking at him felt like a knife twisting in your chest. Despite your attempts to distance yourself, the sound of his voice anywhere near you was like the call of a siren, coaxing you into deep waters. You wouldn't realize how far out you'd swam until it was much too late.

"What's up with you and Dr. Robby?" Princess asked and you quickly tore your gaze away from him.

You frowned, tried to feign confusion, "What d'you mean?"

Princess gave you a knowing look, "Girl, come on, you're constantly giving each other 'fuck me' eyes."

Your mouth dropped open and you gave a short laugh as you felt a hot flush crawl up your neck, "That is not true, we're always fighting."

Princess raised her eyebrows, "Hate fucking is still fucking," she sighed wistfully, "God, I miss hate fucking."

You suspected it was the beer talking, but you felt like you wanted to tell someone, someone closer to your age what had happened with Robby. And you liked Princess a lot.

Biting your cheek you leaned into her so no one else could hear you, "If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone?"

Princess's eyes lit up as she looked at you, "About Dr. Robby?" You nodded in affirmation. "I can't keep anything from Perlah, but it won't leave either of us, that I promise."

Well, you liked Perlah too. You hoped Princess meant it when she said it wouldn't leave them. "Good enough," you said, and then explained to Princess the actual circumstances of you meeting Robby.

When you were done, she pulled away from you with wide eyes, "Holy shit." Then she broke into a smile, "I knew I wasn't imagining the sexual chemistry between you two."

You choked a laugh, "No, there's not—It's not happening again."

"Oh, why not?" She whined playfully, "You obviously both want to, that's why you're fighting all the time."

"We're fighting all the time because he's a self absorbed dick," You took a sip from your beer, "Can you look at me and tell me that he doesn't have a new woman in this hospital wrapped around his finger every few weeks?"

Princess opened and closed her mouth, looking down at her drink. Well, that was all you needed to know, "I won't be another one of his conquests."

"Well what if he was your conquest instead?"

You snorted and rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else a deep and rough voice was saying your name behind you. Your stomach dropped when you turned to see Robby standing at the end of the table, looking directly at you, "Could we talk outside for a minute?"

Normally, you could stuff your feelings down very deep while you were working. The ED was so chaotic, it was easy to redirect your thoughts when they wandered to his big brown eyes or the way he looked when he pulled on the extra large gloves, or the sound of his laugh as it reverberated across the department.

But you were drunk now and he was looking at you with rapt attention, your name having just fallen from his lips like a sonnet. After a moment you nodded and Kim scooted out of the booth to let you out.

You followed him outside, trying and failing to keep your eyes off him, his broad shoulders, his confident gait, the curve of his neck. You had been in a completely different timezone the last time you'd been drunk around Robby and you were conscious of how quickly your defenses dropped when you were even a little bit inebriated. Feelings that had been previously repressed rocketing to the surface. You had pushed it down so thoroughly it even shocked you how badly you wanted him still.

He leaned against the wall on the side of the bar, away from windows and any prying eyes before turning his attention back to you.

"I wanted to clear the air about earlier, we need to be able to communicate with each other in there without it devolving the way it did. Everyone in there looks to us for direction—"

You squeezed your eyes shut and were already shaking your head, the familiar anger poking and prodding again just under your skin, "It wouldn't have gotten to that point if you had been communicating with me—"

He laughed humorlessly, "You just can't let me get a word in, can you? Does the sound of my voice bother you that much?"

"Yes," you lied, even as your stomach stirred and warmed at his attention, "it infuriates me, actually."

He was still smiling, but you knew there was only irritation behind it. He ran a hand along his jawline and looked down at his feet, "S'that so?"

"Yes," you said again, letting your anger, knowingly misplaced, overtake your voice, "That ED runs at a deficit because you're such an insufferable, overbearing control freak and—"

Suddenly his hands were cupping your cheeks and his mouth crashed into yours, hot and abrasive. You stiffened for the briefest of moments in surprise before you kissed him back, pushing him back up against the wall.

It was exhausting pretending like you didn't want him as badly as you did from the moment you met him. You couldn't deny that there was likely a little bit of truth in what Princess had said earlier, that the tension, the wanting of what you knew you couldn't have, was as much a factor in your warring as was his massive ego.

Your frustration and his fought with teeth and tongue. If he took your bottom lip between his teeth, you took his and bit down harder. If your tongue was licking into his mouth a little too dominantly, he would groan and suck on it hard enough to immobilize you.

But then you reached between his legs and palmed him over his pants and you felt the fight go out of him. His head leaned back against the wall, Adam's apple bobbing along his throat, "Fuck me." He cursed quietly and you couldn't help your smirk.

Moving closer to him, you slipped your hand beneath his waistband, gripping his length as he shuddered under your touch. Your free hand cupped his cheek and your thumb ran aimlessly over his parted lips as you watched the effect your touch had on him.

His eyes never left yours, pupils going wide like sinkholes. As you pumped him, he took your thumb in his mouth and you gasped at the feel of his tongue around the digit.

"You want something to suck on while I make you feel good, baby?" You asked, breathless.

He blinked slowly at you, your thumb still in his mouth before he nodded. Eyes never leaving his, you pulled your thumb from his mouth and pushed your hand between your legs, gathering your arousal on two of your fingers. You lifted your fingers back up towards his face, "Open up," You said softly, your other hand continuing to pump him, precum smearing against your skin.

His eyes scanned your face slowly, lips tilting up in a barely there smile before he opened his mouth. He sucked on your fingers greedily, moaning at the taste of you, "Good boy." You whispered and felt his cock twitch in your hand in response.

The fucked out expression on his face, the way he practically went limp and docile at your touch, was enough to keep you satisfied, but still you wanted to taste him. After a few more moments, you pulled your fingers from his mouth and began to lower yourself to the ground.

"You—you don't have to—" Robby began protesting, his voice husky and warm, like bourbon.

"Want to," Was all you said before your ran your tongue along his cock, lapping at the tip where precum had accumulated. He hissed and swore when you took him in your mouth fully, hollowing out your cheeks as you felt him repeatedly hit the back of your throat.

You felt almost out of body as you sucked him off, focusing only on the sounds he was making, the way he occasionally praised you, said how good your mouth felt. You didn't want to think, didn't want to consider the repercussions of this. Of the fact that you were doing exactly what you had promised yourself you wouldn't do again.

But he had kissed you first and at least in the end it had been you making him whimper, you who was in control. You didn't want to be at his mercy again.

"Fuck—M'gonna—M'gonna come." He said, breathless.

You looked up at him, mouth still wrapped around him, granting permission with your eyes and his hips bucked as the come shot out of him and down the back of your throat. When it was done, you pulled your mouth off him and stood.

Immediately, his hand on the back of your neck pulled your mouth back to his, "Come home with me," He said into your mouth, sounding desperate, "Please."

It was like a switch finally flipped in your brain and you remembered Cecelia was at home, waiting for you.

"Shit," You mumbled and pushed yourself away from him.

"What? What is it?"

"I have to go." You said, beginning to walk back to the front of the bar so you could grab your bag from inside.

"Wait—Hold on—Let me take you home, then—"

"No," You said, though at that moment you stumbled, likely revealing to him for the first time just how intoxicated you were.

He steadied you with a light hand at your elbow, "Come on, don't be stubborn."

You pulled your arm from his grasp and headed for your bag at the booth, swinging it over your shoulder as you wished Kim a happy birthday and said goodbyes, carefully avoiding Princess's incessant stare.

"I have to go," You repeated, sidestepping him to get to the door, "Please don't follow me."

And then you rushed back outside, the cold night air a balm to your alcohol flushed skin.

***

Robby watched you go, his hands knotted together on the back of his head. He was still recovering from how hard he came in your mouth just minutes ago and then you had run away.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that? With how easily you had taken him over? It was like when you touched him his head went quiet. He'd do whatever you asked to keep your hands on him.

Someone sighed next to him and he turned to see Princess also staring after you, "Well you're gonna go after her, aren't you?"

He did a double take, frowning, "What do you know, Princess?"

She smirked, "Enough to know that you should go after her."

He didn't, though, in the end. He went home and stared at his ceiling and replayed you putting your fingers in his mouth.

The next morning he walked into the Pitt— and slowed when he saw Dana standing at the hub instead of you.

"What… Are you doing here?" He asked slowly. Immediately, his brain was running a thousand miles an hour. After last night you disappeared and now you weren't at work. You quit and disappeared and he wouldn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

And why did that possibility scare the shit out of him?

Dana smirked at him, "Well don't look so happy to see me, Cap."

He sighed, "Of course I'm happy to see you, but you weren't on the schedule today."

"No, I was not." When Dana didn't say anything else, Robby raised his eyebrows expectantly, "She'll be here later, she just needed someone to cover this morning."

"Uh huh," Robby nodded, "Any particular reason?"

Dana sighed, "Why're you messing with that poor girl?"

"Messing with—? I'm not messing with her. Did she say that?"

"Oh, she didn't have to, Robinavitch. I know you. Can see it all over your face."

Was it really that obvious? "I'm not, I promise. And I'm a little offended you think I just sleep with any woman that looks sideways at me."

Dana rolled her eyes, "Look, she's going through some shit right now—"

"Aren't we all?"

"—This isn't a game. She's not one of your toys. Do not pull her down into the pit with you. You understand me?"

Well, now he was really starting to get offended. What sort of reputation had he created for himself that Dana thought he was a danger to you?

"Yeah, okay. Like I said, you have nothing to worry about."

"Good." Dana said and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Robby cleared his throat and leaned over the counter, "So when will she be back?"

Dana glared at him until he raised his hands in surrender and backed away, "Alright, alright, fine. I'm gonna go find Shen for rounds."

"Yeah, you do that."

Robby shook his head as he walked off. He thought about pulling his phone out and calling you himself, but then realized that if Dana was right and you had serious stuff going on at home, that would be selfish of him.

Instead, he stopped in front of the workstation Santos was sitting at, "Hey," he said, "You, uh, catch up on your charting?"

Trinity's eyes flicked up to him and then back down to the screen, "Working on it," she stretched her arms over her head and then directed her full attention to him, "Hey what's going on with you and the new charge?"

Robby laughed nervously, "That is none of your business."

Trinity smiled, "Well don't fuck it up because I like her."

Robby raised his eyebrows at that, "Oh yeah?"

"I love Dana, but it's nice having someone on shift who doesn't baby you. Dana lets you get away with too much."

He scoffed, "Thank you for your unsolicited opinion Dr. Santos. Now if you could go grab the students for rounds, please?"

Robby watched Trinity walk off and tried not to think too hard about what she'd said. First Princess had caught on to the something between you and now Trinity. It wouldn't be long at all before it was making the rounds in the ED, if it hadn't already. You had taken the morning off for personal issues and to then come in and hear the department speculating about a relationship with him— It was going to hurt you. You had become something of a cyclone when you'd found out he told Dana, he didn't want to find out how much more you would lash out this time.

"Princess—" He called out when he saw her walking across the floor, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What's up?" She asked when they were somewhat secluded from the others.

"Look, I—I need to know what you know."

Princess lit up, "About your new charge nurse friend?"

Robby sighed, "Yeah, she—There's nothing going on between us right now, but if she hears that people think that there is—I don't know—She might quit, even. You're not telling people that we're—are you?"

"No," She shook her head, "She asked me not to. I only told Perlah. In Tagalog."

He ran a hand over his face, "And was Dr. Santos perhaps nearby during that conversation?"

Princess frowned and then her mouth fell open, "I… Will take care of that. She won't hear anything, I promise."

Robby nodded, "Thank you."

Princess stood there for a few more moments and then, "Did you… Go after her last night?"

Robby tilted his head in exasperation, "Princess—"

"Yeah, yeah. Going now."

Robby ran his hands over his face and then to the back of his neck, bending his head forward and sighing. His hands again itched to take out his phone and call you, just to make sure you were okay. But Dana said you'd be in later, he reminded himself. He could wait. He could be patient. He most definitely could act like a professional when you got here.

***

You were shaking as you walked towards PTMC. Cecelia had said you should just call out, let Dana take the whole shift and then the two of you sit down and research to find a solution for caring for your father. You and Cecelia on your own just weren't cutting it. When you'd come home late last night and Cecelia left, your father tried to get out of bed and while you'd mostly been able to calm him and get him back into bed each time without incident, you hadn't slept.

Finally, when Cecelia came in the morning so you could go to work, you suspected from his lack of sleep, he'd gotten even more confused. He didn't recognize Cecelia and became aggressive and erratic. He confused you with your mother, thought when you were leaving the house to go to work you were leaving for good. When you finally calmed him and convinced him everything was alright, he started crying.

"I'm sorry," he'd said over and over, "I'm so sorry, pumpkin." Using your childhood nickname had thrown you for a loop. It had been a while since he'd indicated he recognized you and not your mother. More than that, you couldn't remember a time he had ever apologized to you so tenderly, even before he was sick.

With him finally asleep, you had tried to excuse yourself to another room, but Cecelia had seen through you and pulled you to her, holding you when you fell apart.

"You can't go to work like this," she said, wiping your tears away when you had begun to quiet, "I'm gonna give Dana a call—"

"No, I don't want—"

"You need to sleep. You're of no use to anyone like this," she said sharply, "I'll tell her you'll be in at 1 to relieve her, alright?"

Half a shift. Just half a shift. The world wouldn't fall apart if you missed just half a shift.

So you'd agreed. You slept for four hours and when you woke, Cecelia tried to convince you again to stay home. But you watched your father as he stared emptily at the TV from his recliner and you wanted to leave. You couldn't stay in this house with its stifling cage of memories. With this version of your father who was mean, but still more gentle with you than he had ever been when he was healthy.

Now you were just outside PTMC trying to get your hands to still when Robby walked outside—And almost right into you.

"Oh—shit—" He reached out to steady you, "Hello." He said, and his tone softened immediately when he recognized you, "Are you okay?"

You flinched away from his touch, feeling like you might fall apart at his attempt to soothe you, "I'm fine," You said curtly, "Sorry I'm late."

"That's okay," he shook his head, "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah," You said, voice climbing several octaves as you tried to sound chipper, "Why, did Dana say that I wasn't?"

He pushed his hands into his pockets, shoulders shrugging as he shook his head, "No, she just said that you had some things to take care of this morning."

You nodded slowly and swallowed, "Yeah, I—I did."

"Okay…" He said slowly, "Because I was worried maybe I… scared you off last night."

Despite the morning you had, your stomach flipped and you laughed as if to dispel the warm flush you felt climb up your neck, "Scared me off?" You said with more confidence than you felt, "You practically melted for me."

He smiled and hung his head, but you saw the blush that stained his cheeks as he avoided eye contact, "Yeah, it was—" he cleared his throat, "I… enjoyed it. I hope you did too?"

"I did," You said slowly, "But we probably shouldn't do it again."

He nodded, "Right. Yeah, I know." He scratched the back of his head, "Look, um, before we go back in there I just wanted to tell you that I understand where you were coming from about communicating about the board and I will make sure I consult you next time before making any changes."

You tilted your head and smiled, "Well if I had known all I needed to do to get you to agree with me was give you a blowjob I would've gotten on my knees weeks ago."

If it was possible, his cheeks grew even more scarlet, "It's not—That's not why—"

"I'm kidding." You said quickly, "Thank you, I appreciate that, and I'll try to… communicate my grievances more professionally in the future."

He nodded, "Great. Let's get back to it, then?"

You followed him back inside and watched as he ran off when one of the residents called for him, his hands resting on his stethoscope.

Turning your attention back to the Hub, you saw Dana watching you, a smirk on her face, "Hey kid," she said softly, "You get some sleep?"

You nodded, "Thank you for covering for me, I'm really sorry—"

"Don't sweat it. I was starting to get bored anyway."

As you came around the counter, she pushed some brochures over to you: Juniper Village at Forest Hills, Hemsley House of McCandless, The Pines of Mount Lebanon. All memory care facilities.

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest, "Dana—"

"You are not a bad person for wanting to live your life. For needing help. His tremors are gonna get worse and his balance will go with it. How're you gonna handle that on your own?"

You swallowed, "I've been slowly working towards buying all the equipment he'll need. I have a transfer belt and a wheelchair. I'm looking into getting a hospital bed—"

"Even with all that it's not sustainable by yourself and you know it." She placed a hand over yours and squeezed, "I say this with all the love in my heart, kid: He's going to die. Sooner rather than later. Just because his life is ending doesn't mean yours is too."

You swallowed and looked back down at the brochures. Ironically, boarding him somewhere would be cheaper than hiring around the clock care. But—

"He made me promise I'd never put him in a home."

Dana tilted her head, lips twisting sympathetically, "That's an impressively unfair thing to ask of your child." She covered your hand with her own and gave it a light squeeze, "Just, think about it, okay? I can come tour the facilities with you, if you want."

You gave her a small smile, "Thanks, Dana."

She began to pack her things away, pulling her jacket over her scrubs, "Now, one more thing before I go. I thought you said it was one and done with Robinavitch."

You nearly choked on your coffee, "Wha—? It was—It is. Done. What did you hear?"

She gave you a lopsided smirk, "Nothing. I saw him walk in this ER looking for you like a lost puppy."

Ridiculous, Bambi eyed doctor. It was really hard to lie to Dana and you were already exhausted, "We may have had a…relapse last night. But it won't happen again."

She rolled her eyes, "Spare me, alright? I've been here before. I just hope you know what you're getting into. He doesn't know how to let anyone in and you'll drown in your attempts to save him."

You gave a short laugh, "Oh, Dana, Dana, Dana… I don't think I can fix him. I think I can make him worse."

She shook her head dismissively, "Don't know why I bother. Just don't do anything stupid, alright?"

You reassured her you wouldn't and watched her head out to the ambulance bay, still chuckling to yourself that she thought you had a savior complex.

You were many things, but you had never been the one to rush in during the final act and mend a broken heart. Your own heart was too mangled for that.

No, you were more like rot, you decided. Slow moving and by the time you were detected it was too late. You swallowed as you looked down at the brochures and thought of your mother. Was your father like this too? Was that why she left?

"Hey," A large hand lightly tapped the counter in front of you, scrambling your thoughts and causing you to try to quickly hide the brochures, "What's open?"

Robby was stopped in front of you, a stretcher being wheeled behind him.

"Uh," you quickly looked down at your iPad to see the board and then around the department, "Trauma one's open."

"Thanks," He said, and as he began to walk away, he winked at you.

It was so ridiculous, you laughed once he'd walked away from you.

"So," You looked to see Princess at your side, grinning smugly, "Has Dr. Robby been conquered?"

You rolled your eyes, but smirked, "Could you assist in trauma one, please?"

Princess walked off, but you stared into trauma one for more than was appropriate afterwards, watching the way Robby moved, his skilled healing hands, the way he rocked on his feet. You strained to hear his voice above the cacophony of the ED.

You may have convinced everyone that the previous night had been a mistake, not to be repeated, but your mind seemed to have other ideas.

***

It had been about two weeks since you and Robby had succumbed to the tension that had been building between you just outside Paddy's. Fortunately for Robby, you had become more and more willing to cross the line as the days passed. However, the one rule you seemed to be sticking to was that nothing could happen outside the confines of the hospital. No matter how many times he invited you to his house for dinner after shift, you refused. And you never ever invited him to your place. Still refused to even let him walk you home.

It would've hurt his feelings more if he hadn't also been noticing the way you were deteriorating. Eyes sinking into sockets, snapping at the techs and students… He had even caught more than one mistake on your beloved board.

No matter how he begged Dana, she wouldn't tell him what you were dealing with at home. You wouldn't even reveal if you were living alone or if there was someone else. He remembered from when you were in Jamaica that you had said you'd just broken an engagement over infidelity. Could it be that you had reconciled and now he was the affair partner?

He was tugging his scrub top back over his head, the two of you having finished your usual post shift fifteen minute quickie in the abandoned floor upstairs, when he decided to try yet again to pierce your defenses.

"What hospital did you say you worked at before here?"

You were pulling your pants up, still shirtless. Robby had begun carefully cataloguing every imperfection, every divot, of your body. He was always worried it would be the last time you allowed him to touch you and then he'd be left with nothing but his own memories.

"I didn't." You said shortly, not looking at him.

He hummed, "Was it here in Pittsburgh?"

"No."

He let a few moments pass, hoping you would fill it, but still nothing. "Is it just me that you have an aversion to giving more than a few breadcrumbs of your life to?"

You sighed as you pulled your scrub top back over your head, "I don't know why you care. Haven't I given you what you wanted?"

Robby scoffed, "I would think that my repeated attempts to get to know you outside of this hospital despite your constant rejection would indicate otherwise."

"Oh," You said frowning, "I thought you were just being nice. You know, in the way older men try to be chivalrous to compensate for their guilt of just using women to fuck. Like, 'Oh, don't worry, you're not just my whore, you're my Madonna too!' But I'm fine just being the whore."

He stared at you open mouthed for a few moments before running a hand over the back of his head, "How do you manage to constantly find new ways to insult me?"

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you, "I called myself a whore and you're insulted?"

"You think I just fuck my way through women without ever recognizing their personhood?"

You blinked at him, "I mean, that's sort of what I've heard, yeah." You shrugged, "But I'm not judging you, I'm doing the same thing to you."

He ran a hand over his face, "Okay, well you're wrong, and I'm concerned both as your friend and your colleague that you're not sleeping."

You smiled as you walked towards him and twined your arms around his waist. You could pretend to be unbothered all you wanted, but he knew you craved touch. It was easy to pick up the way you leaned into any contact at all. He still remembered in Jamaica when you'd slept in the same bed how you followed him, sought out his warmth, if he moved away from you.

Now you leaned into his chest, leaning up on your toes to kiss him, which he obliged. His tongue making languid strokes into your mouth while his hands kept you anchored to him.

It was true that Robby slept around and he wasn't always the best at considering his partner's feelings. There was that woman just a few weeks ago who'd slept in his bed and he couldn't recall her name.

But he was trying to be better about that with you. He didn't want to hurt you, if for no other reason than it would make things difficult around here. But it felt like the closer you allowed him physically the more closed off you were emotionally.

Maybe that was for the best. He had plenty of his own shit to deal with.

He pulled back slightly, his hands reaching up to cradle your face, "I really am worried about you," he said softly, and found that he meant it, "You can trust me with whatever it is."

Your eyes flared with an emotion he couldn't place, but then you blinked and it was gone. Instead, you smiled and nudged your nose against his, "I'm fine. I promise."

He sighed, "Fine. But if I said I want you to come home with me because I sleep better when someone else is nearby, would you be more likely to indulge me?"

You disentangled yourself from his arms and grabbed your backpack off the floor and slung it over your shoulder, "I can't, but thank you for the offer."

He nodded, "Can you at least tell me that the reason you won't come home with me and won't tell me where you live isn't because you already have a significant other at home?"

At that, you smiled, "Don't worry, Robinavitch, you're my one and only."

He shook his head, "I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse."

"Goodnight," You swung the door of the room open, "See you tomorrow."

The door closed behind you and Robby sat on the edge of the bed, staring at it blankly. He sat there for a while, staring after you. Part of him hoped you'd come back.

It was a distinct torture, he found, that he had you, but not quite. He hadn't realized that much of the reason he had been sleeping with various women was because he liked when he wasn't the only one in his home. He liked it when someone else was next to him, when he could hear someone else breathing, alive, beside him.

But now that you refused him over and over, he felt even more alone.

Maybe that was why a few days later, when Noelle texted him late at night, he invited her over. It felt bad, wrong, lying in bed with her with the TV on. Her head laid on his chest and he felt sad all over again.

After that, he felt irritated. It only made him want you more, your insistence to pull away and build walls. He couldn't enjoy intimacy with anyone else. He didn't think he was usually this possessive, his eyes following your every move across the ED with near predatory intent.

When he saw you flirting with the EMT, the way you smiled at him, he felt sick. Like you had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, still beating between your fingers.

But still, he shoved it down and acted nonchalant later when he came to stand next to you at the board, "Meet me upstairs after shift?" he asked softly, looking around the department over your head.

Miraculously, Perlah and Princess had been true to their word about keeping everything under wraps, even convincing Trinity that they had been wrong about it. He assumed his rekindling things with Noelle had been helpful in pushing her off the scent as well. At least his idiocy was good for something.

"I can't today," you said, not looking at him, Apple pencil resting against your lips, "I have plans."

He hummed, "The EMT?"

"Brian?" Slowly, your eyes flitted to his, "Maybe. I don't think that's really your business."

"It is my business if we're sleeping together."

You laughed, the sound grating rather than the soft trilling he heard earlier, "Really? Because last I heard it was Noelle who was in your bed and you didn't think to tell me about that."

He smiled smugly at the vitriol in your voice, pleased to see that you were just as jealous as he was, "Is that what this is about?" You rolled your eyes and began to walk away and he followed, easily keeping pace with you despite how you tried to outrun him, "You've made it pretty clear that you have no desire to be in my bed, so I'm not sure how you could be upset with me."

"I'm not upset," You said, though your tone was sharp as daggers, eager to impale him on every word, "It just would've been nice to be given a heads up instead of having to watch you flirt with her right in front of me and listen to the nurses gossip about it all day."

He tilted his head, "You mean the same way you've been rubbing it in my face with Brian all day?"

The corner of your lip twitched up into a smile, "So it worked, then?"

He laughed and shook his head, "Are you gonna go home with him tonight? His bed is good enough for you?"

You sighed, "I don't know why you're so hung up on this. You run through women like a fucking train—as evidenced by getting your dick wet with Noelle when you were just inside me not even twenty four hours before—and yet you find it confusing why I wouldn't go home with you? Why I'm trying to keep my distance?"

"If you had just come home with me I wouldn't have called Noelle at all."

You narrowed your eyes at him, jaw going slack in exasperation, "Okay, so the second you don't get your way you're reaching for a new toy?"

He ran a hand over his face, "That's not what I meant."

"Right," you said tersely, "I think we're done here."

When you walked away he watched you go, running his hand over the back of his head. No matter how hard he tried not to, he seemed to just keep digging himself deeper in a hole with you.

***

The date was horrible. As horrible as a date could get, maybe even worse than the worst date you'd ever had. Any chemistry you thought you had picked up on in the ED seemed to evaporate and he was really rude to the waitress who took your order. So rude, in fact, you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom so you could find the waitress, apologize profusely, and ask for her Venmo so you could send her a huge tip.

You sat across from him for nearly two hours and kept thinking about Robby, how the only reason you were here was because he had driven you to such irrational levels of irritation. You hated being jealous, it made your skin itch, it gave power to Robby that you never ever wanted him to have. It was terrifying knowing that he had that sort of control over you, that just seeing him with Noelle had made it hard to breathe, had made you feel nauseous, had thrown you off for the entire day.

In order to make it through the date with your sanity and to stop thinking about Robby, you had overcompensated with alcohol. You'd lost count of how many drinks you ordered, but you felt mostly fine, until you stood up to leave and the world tilted.

"Woah—" A hand was at your elbow, steadying you. Then on your back, then your waist. He was saying things in your ear as you left the restaurant, but the world was beginning to gray at the edges.

Your breathing began to come in fits and starts, your chest tight and painful. You tried to slap his hands away, you wanted to call an Uber, but he stayed firm.

"Stop," You meant to dig your heels into the pavement, but he practically lifted you off your feet, leading you behind the restaurant, near the dumpsters. The panic had really taken hold now, tears beginning to collect at the corners of your eyes.

You were too drunk, you didn't feel right, you didn't feel like yourself, you felt like you were floating above yourself as his hands wandered, his hot mouth on your neck, as he shoved you against the brick wall.

"Stop, I don't want to—Stop!" You don't remember thinking about it, it must have been some sort of primal instinct to drive your knee into his groin—But it got him to release you.

Cursing, he backed away from you and you tried to catch your breath, heart still in your throat and hands shaking.

You had the vague sense that he was shouting at you, but all you caught at the end was "—stupid cunt—" Before he spat in your general direction and turned his back on you.

Looking back on it, you didn't think you wanted to hurt him—Just maybe scare him a little. Or perhaps you went a little wild with rage, like a dog who'd been hit one too many times. You longed to bite back, sink your teeth into soft flesh. But as he began to walk away, you picked up a half broken beer bottle that was on the ground near the dumpster and threw it in his direction, causing it to shatter against the pavement near his feet.

He turned back to you, like he was ready to lunge, and you regretted it immediately. You felt like you'd knowingly provoked a predator, alerting it to its next meal. But then blue lights flashed across his face, the brief whoop of a siren, and you turned to see a police car parked not more than a hundred feet away.

For the briefest of moments, you felt vindication. Surely they had been there the whole time, had witnessed him about to force himself onto you and were here to take him away.

But when they got out of the car, they stopped to talk to him first and you watched with growing apprehension as they acted fraternal. Shook hands and slapped each other on the shoulder. And then Brian was walking away, a spring in his step, and they were walking towards you.

It was difficult later to recall the exact details, you were too far gone in your own panic attack as well as the alcohol, but you did think you tried to fight back when they told you you were under arrest for disorderly conduct. You're sure you were sobbing and incoherent, but you had tried asking them about Brian, told them he'd tried to force himself on you, but they were unempathetic and eventually the fight went out of you as they confiscated your things and put you in the back of their cruiser.

Your breathing rattled in your chest, silent tears streaming down your face the whole ride. When you threw up in the back of their cruiser, it made you feel only slightly better imagining they'd have to clean up after you. Pigs.

"We're just keeping you until you sober up," They said after you were processed and put in a cell.

"I want a phone call, can I have my phone?"

"You can have a phone call, but you can't use your phone so you better know a number by heart."

You wanted to scream. Of course you didn't know any fucking numbers by heart. The only number you knew by heart was your father's old landline that he'd taken out years ago at your suggestion.

Feeling defeated and sorry for yourself, you curled up on a cold bench. You weren't sure who you would call anyway, even if you had your phone. Cecelia was the only person you wouldn't feel humiliated by seeing like this and she was staying with your father overnight with her husband at your request.

You hadn't been planning to spend the night at Brian's house, but McKay had asked you to meet her later to go dancing as it was her ex's weekend with her son. She'd said you could crash at her place after and you had intended to take advantage of that, to sleep somewhere that didn't feel so haunted and full of decaying memories.

Maybe if you had your phone you could've called McKay. You weren't super close, but she was open about her history and had never seemed judgmental in the least. Didn't matter, though, you couldn't use your fucking phone. Seemingly for no reason other than they were being spiteful. Probably because you threw up in their car.

You had been in enough trouble as a teenager to know that disorderly conduct was a summary offense that usually warranted only a ticket if the offender had ceased the behavior upon receiving a warning, not an arrest. You couldn't remember, but you didn't think they had given you a warning.

It was cold in the cell and in a useless attempt to warm your hands, you shoved them in the pockets of your jeans— to find a piece of card stock poking into one of your hands. Frowning, you pulled it out to examine it and found Robby's business card, his personal cell scribbled on the back. These were the jeans you had worn to the airport on the flight back to Jamaica.

You stared at his phone number, his messy scrawl that you had become so familiar with over the last couple of months, and wondered if you could bear it. If you could swallow your pride and call him to see if he'd come get you, faced with both humiliation and the possibility of rejection. Or if you'd sit and stare at the cement ceiling, shivering all night.

Unfortunately, the thought of spending the whole night here was immediately spiral inducing. You could not stay here. Well, you could, but you knew you'd regret at least not trying to get out.

So, tail tucked between your legs and business card clutched in hand, you asked for the phone.

now months later and you're here, sitting in the living room on wash day, warm hands slipping through your curls.

big light off, slow jazz playing and shea butter gliding through your roots, it's like you're right back at home. meanwhile nanami is gripping the comb like his life depends on it, veins bulging from sheer force.

"does it hurt?" he always finds himself asking without a second thought. "no, baby," you giggle, amused by his fussing. "i'll tell you if it does."

"promise?"

"promise."

occasionally he finds a fairy knot, signaled only by your muffled winces. he's doubled over and apologizing for it quicker than he found it, little "please forgive me, darling's" and "i'll be more careful," all topped off with sporadic kisses to your temples.

he takes care of your hair with the utmost reverence.

he gets the hang of it quickly for a guy who had never even seen a curl pattern like yours. originally, you were an anomaly, a foreign beauty he never imagined himself falling in love with. fast forward years later and here he is, your head between his thighs and his hands gripping your hair.

you always lie to him if your hair doesn't look good, not having the heart to break it to him. he already knows, can see the fly aways and messy parting. but he's trying, he really is.

originally, you wanted him to style your hair to avoid high braiding costs. (and so you could stay inside, being a home body and all)

now it's a nightly routine for nanami to do your hair in plats. "so my hair stays stretched," you tell him. he doesn't care why or how he's doing your hair, as long as he's taking care of you.

as he's going through the motions, you're talking him through it, stating which products to use and when. you see him reach for the gel and immediately swat his hand away. "that stuff is for styling, kenny. this is just for sleep."

he doesn't fully understand all the mysticism around your hair, routines or the culture behind it. but he respects it all the same, and you love him for loving you.

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred

the way you smiled with your hg.

your laugh.

your voice.

the way your outfit and accessories complimented you to a tea.

y’all’s had brief eye contact as you passed by his table to get to your own. like very brief. damn there a blink. but shi, you looked at him? and he looked back at you too?

connie stared too long, eyes traveling on you as you make it to your friends table to sit down. and when one of homeboys followed his line of sight from his sudden wave of quietness . pheww his ass was

cooked

“ohhhh” his homeboy ony dragged out

”so you gon keep looking or…?”

connie couldn’t do nun shake his head and fight back a smile. “man chill out”

“nah nah- i ain’t tryna disrupt your sight seeing.” ony teased taking a sip from his cup.

“wasn’t gonna let you no way” connie said, side eyeing ony as he just teasingly smirked. “aye she is fine, so i’m on your side there..but”

connie gave him questioning look, making ony roll his eyes. “so you gon just sit here and watch her?.” ony said, taking a sip from his cup as connie debates his next move.

“i mean she with her hg? you want me to just barge in on they hangou-“ right when connie was speaking a man greets you and your hg and takes a seat.

ony gave a now what look towards connie after watching the interaction. “mmcht- man that could be they friend or some shit” connie muttered slightly irritated. but suddenly you wave your self off to your friend and get up, ony and connie watch carefully for your next move. and when you start walking towards the bar, connie could almost jump of joy and started to get up himself.

“aye con where you going?” one of his teammates asked beside him as connie watched you at the bar.

“to get a drink.” he muttered, barely glancing back at his friends. ony just laughed, sharing a knowing look with connie teammate. “ohhh so now you thirsty?” ony teased him.

this time connie just rolled his eyes with a smile at his teasing, and started walking towards the bar where you sat. he knew ony was just talking shi cause there were literally drinks at their table he’s barely touched.

but noo he want to drink next to the woman who barely even batted an eye his way all night.

and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do

ೃ༄

you starred at the menu trying to decide what to order, finally picking something and scrolling on your phone as you wait. kiana was still at a table behind you, but sitting by yourself for a couple seconds wasn’t an issue, as your hg gets lost in conversation with some dude she was excited about meeting up with

mindlessly scrolling on your phone waiting for your order you didn’t even realize the presence beside you.

“just a whiskey.”

a deeper voice next to you said, and when you turned to even catch a quick glance at who it was, the man was already looking your way.

connie made it all the way up to you. sat down next to you. watched you half of the night, and when he’s finally in your face…

he’s lost of words

“you uh- you been waiting long?”

he said glancing at the bar before looking back you at. you just huffed a sigh “not really, i just ordered actually.”

yeah connie actually knew that already, but hey whatever kicks starts a conversation right?

“besides, i’m giving my homegirl a couple minutes alone with her man that’s really not her man.” you say, glancing back at the two before fully turning your full attention to connie.

and you were not expecting the man sitting beside you to look the way he did.

his buzz cut slightly grown out a little and slightly curling at the nape of his neck, his hazel eyes were staring back at yours, he had white tee on that fitted him just right, along with a light beige jacket with matching light beige pants.

connie just let out an airy laugh at your statement, his dimples making an appearance with his smile.

oh he fine fine

but when connie eyes wandered to where your friend was he damn there choked on his spit. your homegirl was sharing lovey dovey eyes with someone off of another team he’s played. hell they’re basically rivals.

connie was mentally shaking his head before turning his attention back to you, “that’s nice, seems like they’re enjoying it.” he murmured teasingly, making you laugh a little.

“overly enjoying it, she doesn’t even know who he is for real.” you say shaking your head at the fact, while connie thinks twice about what you just said.

“so you don’t know who he is?” connie said, cause he’s sure pretty sure a good amount of people in this lounge knows exactly who that man was.

“nope. never seen or heard of him in my life” you said and connie just starred at you with a silent victory, because if you don’t know who he is….

“soft serve margarita for y/n?” a bartender called out, sliding your drink to you. “that will be me! thank you.” you said with a sweet smile. (i knowww yall seen them soft serve margaritas bro)

“that’s a cute name.” connie blurted out as you dipped a spoon in your drink. “thank you. that’s what my mama would like to hear” you said back making connie bite back a smile, “and your name?” you asked him as the bartender came to give him his drink.

“whiskey for con- hey don’t you-“

“thanks man.” connie cut him off and gave the bartender a silent look that screamed not now, and with that the bartender went the opposite way

“it’s Connie”

he responded to your question before you could comment on the blunt interruption. and there was a beat of silence after he said it, and he was slowly losing hope in his quick conclusion.

“connie..” you repeated his name out loud. “so like..is that short for something..or?..”

then you don’t know who he is.

and to say the least.

his prayers have been answered

“nah. just connie.”

connie felt like someone should pinch him right now, as this moment was too good to be true.

ೃ༄

the more you two talked the more connie created a more simple identity. something that screamed connie but without all of the glamour of fame.

“sooo you mean to tell me you chaperoning for your hg and there’s no type of double date?” connie questioned you as he took another spoonful of his soft serve margarita you convinced him to get as well.

you just silently shook your head yea, while connie stared at you for a good minute. “so..no dude gon come around this corner n try n beat my as-“

“nobody gon touch you connie. ian got a man. how many times i gotta say that?” you cut him off making him before he can start, causing him to laugh at you.

“first off, yo secret man wouldn’t be able to touch me” connie said with sass, making you laugh. the sound filled connie’s ears with pride, as he’s the one who got it out you. connie was about to zone out again, but this time right.in.front.of.you

the beat of silence of connie being in deep though had you confused.

“uh connie?”

“do you understand how pretty you are ᧔.❀.᧓ ?” connie said right after you, almost cutting you off but still giving your concern a chance to get out.

“boy wha-?”

“i’m just saying” connie shrugged with a smug smile making its way across his face in hopes of covering up how wrapped around your finger he is. “cause i know if i was given the chance to be anything, i would take it” said looking at you as your eyes shyly averted to the slightly empty glass in front of you.

connie leaned his head down to try and catch your pretty eyes again. “baby, look at me.” connie murmured. when you finally glanced up, letting your face rest in the palm of your hand as your elbow sits on the bar island. “so this ain’t your chance?”you asked curiously, making connie immediately lock tf in.

“only if you give me one” he simply responded not letting up on his opportunity.

well shit.

“alr then.” and with that connie got up to his full height, putting his hand out for you to grab. letting the conversation take y’all anywhere throughout the lounge.

ೃ༄

you and connie were now walking around the lounge chatting amongst each other. getting to know each other a little more, each new discovery about each other shocking the both of you.

yall settled on the outside area where it’s a bit more quiet, but still different conversation going on around you both.

 and the more you glanced around the room you could spot more couples in each other spaces in every corner of the room. you mentally laughed at the position you and connie were both in currently.

his arm was currently resting behind you on the back of the couch, thighs at a respectful distance, as you both find a comfortable silence that wouldn’t last for long. he was scrolling on his phone checking something before his phone ringed and he quickly declined it. and the caller wasn’t a scam call.

you noticed that, but didn’t bring it up.

“this feels a lot like love island”  you said suddenly making his head turn to you.

“love island?” 

“yesss” you reponded “youn see all these different couples damn there breathing on each other like they just met the love of their life 3 hours ago??”

connie looked around the room to see what you were talking about. in one corner a couple was making out, another corner two people were holding hands as they talk to each other, rest of the room area was a mix of that and normal interactions. connie guessed the setting out here felt a little romantic??

“soooo, the whole show be like this?” connie asked after taking in the touchy couples and glancing back at you, his mouth already set on saying some bs as he wait for your response.

“ i mean the show probably worse, but you get the gist of it” you said leaning back, his arm grazing the back of your neck. connie just hummed in response.

“soo what...you tryna couple up with me? I mean with all the lovey dovey island shi goin on i thin-“ 

“boy-“ you cut him off laughing. “your so- no.”

he just shrugged “shi- you brought it up?” he said in defense, which made you turn to him to point a playful finger at him 

“I said it felt like love island. aint say nothing about me.” connie leaned down to yout finger, acting as if he was about to bite it before you yanked it away. 

“AYE-“

“mhmm.” connie’s phone started ringing again, his personal team manager at that. but right now he is connie with no relations to football, nor trying to insert that in his head during his down time. especially with you. but you’re already growing a little suspicious about his phone ringing.

you just rolled your eyes at him “that’s exactly why you would get voted off.” you said, making him show a mock of offense. “ you would be right behind me if that’s the case” connie said, making you disagree immediately. “uhnt uhnttt. atleast i don’t ignore people” you responded, connie just gave you a confused facial expression 

“what you mean???” he said after hitting decline on his phone to stop the ringing for the third time.

“how many times you gon decline that call hm?” you asked, connie just smoothly slides his phone back into his pants pocket and shrugs “mann- im sure they didn’t want nothing..besides ion wanna interrupt our conversation.”

you deadpanned at his response as he just stares at you, as if his eyes read

what you want me to do?

“ okay. well what about when the bartender was tryna say some earlier?” You questioned making him raised an eyebrow at you. “uhh..what they was tryna say?”

you just rolled your eyes “yea you getting voted off immediately” connie was about to respond before his phone ranged again, you were just staring at him  and motioning him to answer his phone. Connie just answers and raises the phone to his ear

“yooo?” 

“Ive been trying to get a hold of you for 2 hours! did you not see my text about-“ but connie’s manager was cut off by him in attempts of cutting the convo short

“I’ll check it in a few”

“HEY? what’s with the rush- im literally trying to help cover your ass about YOUR training, for YOURRR big game coming up. would you rather get scolded by me or cussed out by your coach?”

of course connie mentally thought as he held the phone to his ear, mindlessly listening to his manager go off in a very professional manner despite connie’s dismissive mood.

“I didn’t forget!, I promise you, I’ll look at the message.” he said in hopes she would drop the soccer conversation all together. his slight frustration not going un noticed by you, but you busy yourself with the anything but him as he talks on the phone.

“ I know this isn’t your favorite part of the job. just when you get a chanc-“

“I know.” he just simply said making his manager sigh and say her goodbyes. she knew how over connie was with the media and soccer promo for the upcoming game, but was it really that bad?

connie put his phone back in his pocket and for once tonight he was snapped back into reality about his chaotic and time consuming life.

“you okay?..” you asked looking at him, his eyes snapping back towards your face. “I am now that I’m off the phone you wanted me to answer sooo bad” he teased making you playfully push his shoulder.

and suddenly connie felt back at peace. there was no way he was letting you get far. not after tonight.

maybe he could tell you his true identity and you’ll be okay with it? maybe this could be more than what it is? or maybe his grand idea is just him being delusional.

“can I tell you something?” connie asked, maybe the drinks were giving him a foreign confidence? or better yet you were.

“yea what’s up??” you said waiting for his next words. for a moment connie opened his mouth and closed it in the same beat.

Helllll no. He was definitely still a little nervous. there’s no way you would just go with it …or would you? connie just say it. i’m in sports, that was actually my publicist blowing up my phone, your homegirl date is a total loser, and i don’t know how long i can control myself befor-

“I pla-“

suddenly his words were cut short when your hg and her date came aka his rival walking outside. hand in hand. “GIRL you ready to go? It is getting a little late.”

yea. this shit couldn’t get any worse till now.

now you and connie stood in front of the two. you and kiana were completely oblivious to the connection the two men had.

now the two men stood in front of each other. kiana was tucked under the man who’s name you can’t remember, meanwhile connie had his hands in his pockets while you stood next to him.

“yea if you’re ready to leave we can.” you said glancing at the two that are attached to the hip. kiana’s date glanced at you and then looked at connie, who was already trying to figure out how to handle whatever his rival was about to say. but his rival had other plans.

“didn’t think ill run into you tonight.” his rival said, making connie nod his head slowly as he can already see that his rival has already read the room about you both being clueless about the messy connection the two have.

“oh yea?..” connie said in a dry curious tone making the man in front of him huff a laugh at the calm irritation building up in connie.

“yeah.” the man said with a smirk. “besides it’s good to have a little down time once in a while right?” the man said making connie just hum in response. you and kiana felt the vibe change as you both share glances. connie could see his friends watching him from afar, as they all knew the tension could possibly get worse.

“well it was good seeing you connie.” his rival said as he can feel connie’s friends burning multiple holes through the back of his head. “you too.” connie responded back as he watches the man get ready to turn to leave as kiana follows behind him muttering she will be at the door when you were ready as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“uhh should i be concerned?? what was all that about? you didn’t tell me you knew him.” you said in a whisper to him as all his mental irritation starts to fade as he looks down at you. “i didn’t realize i knew him till after the fact. but it’s all good either way.” connie said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly because out of all people why did he have to run into him out of all times.

“mmcht okay then.” you said before you both started to slowly walk towards the entrance. but every step was slow in attempt of saving the little moment yall had. “ also, what were you trying to tell me earlier?” you asked making him halt his steps, halting your own after noticing the tiny distance.

“uhm it wasn’t anything major for real.” connie said, lying through his teeth as he watched you squint your eyes curiously at him. “you sure? it sounded kinda important…ish?” you try to reopen the conversation again.

“i was just wondering if ill ever see you again.” connie muttered lowly, looking down at you with a glimpse of hope and a story he will never hear the end of to tell if anything from this night make it out these lounge doors. his confidence daring to shrink the longer you drag the silence between you to out, until you started laughing, making him confused but still hanging on to his chance even though he feels that he’s slightly made a mysterious fool out of himself tonight.

“no i wanna end whatever connection we got” you said in a dramatic mock tone, watching as the sheepish grin makes its way to his face.

“of course. i would like that.” you tell him in a genuine tone, which makes him takes his phone out as you do the same to exchange numbers. with the exchange part going well, connie mentally feels like hit the jackpot after retrieving his phone from you and giving yours back. “soo.. see you soon?” connie says as he watches your phone glow with a phone call. “yea.” you say as you both start to stand lingering infront of each other before bursting into a mutual laugh.

connie leaned down to give a simple kiss on your head and a quick hug that filled your nose with his cologne before you both parted ways and you made your way to the door where kiana waited for you at. kiana and you shared a look before giggling outside the lounge.

ೃ༄

the car ride from the lounge was mostly a big debrief about the two boys of the night. “i don’t know girlll i think you should get on that! i meannn he definitely didn’t waste a minute getting on you.” kiana said as she drove to place you were both staying at since this was a girls trip between the two of you. who would’ve known the boy she spontaneously met on a dating app would’ve also possibly help spark something in your love life.

“he’s sweet, i just need to get to know him more i think” you say as kiana rolled her eyes before a thought popped in her head “that is true… cause how does my man know your man?” now it was your turn to roll your eyes

“he’s not my man-“

“soon to be husband.”

there wasn’t a point of arguing with kiana. but the question did have you wondering. connie was acting a little weird you guessed? but them knowing each other and the tension..?? yea now that was something to question about.

as you and kiana made it back and settled in, heels somewhere on the floor and outfits exchanged for something for comfortable. the both of you chit chat about each other interactions at the lounge.

“these pictures are so cuteee.” kiana says referring to the pictures you both took before going to the lounge. “girl yesss we need to post them” and before you knew it you and kiana were picking out yalls favorite pictures to post. but as you open instagram and post the pictures tagging kiana as she did the same on her page, you stopped mid scrolling as a suggested account with a very familiar name pops up.

“girl i think i just found his insta? i think it’s probably cause his number in my phone or??” you say turning the phone towards kiana as her eyes shine with excitement “CLICK IT?! we can literally see what type of person he is if he has any post” and as you hesitated, kiana snatched your phone and clicked it for you.

but her expression is what scared you cause her smile dropped a little, her facial expression turning more into a shocked one. “GIRL WHAT IS IT? you’re not saying anything?!?” you ask her, daring to peak at your phone and see.

“i mean it’s definitely him. BUT YOU COULDVE TOLD ME HE WAS IN SPORTS?!” she says and that made you give her a questioning look cause what? before you can ask kiana turned the phone towards you. “girl he’s like big time i think!? i’m not into sports like that but im pretty sure this is like big right? i mean look at his followers!” the bright screen couldn’t be more clear and the way he was acting started to make a little sense. his page was filled with event post, training videos, interviews your assuming was from the different events.

this was too much to unfold in a couple seconds about a man you just met out of pure convenience

suddenly your phone vibrated with a text from him as it was in kiana’s hand while you both freak out sitting on the couch of the condo you both rented out for this trip. you guys weren’t gonna be here long and now your telling me the guy that kept me company half of the night is a whole soccer player…and said nothing.

in all honesty you didn’t know what to do or if you should open his message. “girl- hey look at me! we’re gonna figure this out.” kiana handed your phone “text him back and tell him you made it home.” and you did tell him and handed your phone back to her as she just laughed “mannn- this explains EVERYTHING. wait what about your date? didn’t he tell you he was in sports too at one point” you questioned kiana as she leaned back into the couch as if she figured out the last piece to a mystery “he did but never clarified which one..” she trailed off before looking at you “what if their both in soccer? and that’s why they had that weird exchange?”

you nodded in agreement because i mean what else would it be? “i would assume unless it’s deeper than we think? we won’t know nothing until something is said.” you added as kiana thought in silence before coming up with an idea

“let’s plan a date at the same place and confront them.” you knew kiana had wild ideas and this one had you a little nervous.

“BITCH HELL NO!” “BITCH HELL YES!”

you and kiana stared at each other before you groaned and leaned back into the couch “i like the idea but this can get messy fastttt” you huffed a sigh “shit and? they had a chance to explain” kiana said, which was true. “you’re right. both they asses can go down if they want to.” you and kiana both laugh “OR! what if we see how long it takes for them to tell us?” you mention another idea that has kiana taping her chin in deep thought “now THATS messy” kiana said making you both burst into laughter

“bitchhh nobody would believe the shit that happened today if we told em.” kiana says as she gets up and prep for bed as you do the same “that’s why this whole situation will be perfect for 2 truths and 1 lie.” and the idea sparked both of your heads before you knew it before you both burst into screams “BITCHHH we should do that as a game when we get them in the same room!!!” kiana says as you beam at her idea “YESSSS” you both eagerly got ready for bed (in reality to stay up and plan this bs) and prepare for the eventual idea to take place

either yall were both messy…or this girls trip was about to be the most memorable trip yet

but one game won’t hurt?

right..?!

gon head n cuss me out for the wait 🥲 but i hope yall enjoyed this as i wrote it a while back while adding to it. i honestly don’t know wtf i wrote 💔

yk how you get obsessed with another fandom and start reading and do more reading than writing + enjoying summer before your next college semester starts? 😭yaaaa that was me and apologize😣

hopefully i didn’t miss too much over here cause my ahh been watching love island and binge watching all these new prime shows LMFAOO likeee what yall been up to?? also somebody tell tumblr to give the side blogs the same features as main blog like wth🙄

my lil ask me box is open so yk talk to me, ask me questions, im also open to other fandoms just lmk which ones you wanna see and i’ll lyk if ive heard of them.

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred

"Long line."

You'll say. Turning your head to glance backwards over your shoulder, you quickly attach a face to the voice. There is a man, taller than you, dressed in a sharp cream suit. There are a pair of sunglasses, lenses tinted dark blue, clipped over the tiny little pocket.

His hair is blond, frames his face tastefully. His features are austere, sharp like the suit. He is very handsome, you think to yourself. Not quite like the fairytale prince's you used to crush on as a small girl.

No. This stranger is handsome like a work of art. A statue, still and poised, the whisper of human emotion flitting across a stone-like face. It doesn't help that he smells good, something, though the only word you can really use to describe him is expensive.

When you say nothing (whoops), the stranger smiles.

Reflexive, you give him a small, quiet smile in return.

"Uhm. Yes" Turning around to face him fully, you grip your bag tighter against your side. "If it doesn't speed along, I'll be late coming back from my break"

"Uh oh"

The way he says it sounds like he could be humoring you. His eyes are honey brown, glinting with something that escapes you. The conversation dies off, mostly due to the fact that you can't think of anything intelligent enough to keep it alive.

"My manager is such a dick, I really can't be late" You mumble to yourself. "Not again, anyway. I can't be late two days in a row"

Of course, your manager never seems to notice that other people come back from their breaks 10, 20 minutes late. Or that your manager herself came back an hour or so late on numerous such occasions. But thats the world of luxury fashion, you guess. In order to get your foot in the door, really in the door, you have to deal with a whole bunch of shit.

A hundred girls would kill to be in your position. Even if it means being talked down to by wealthy women in their 40's and 50's for whatever reason, or dealing with leers from some of the older men there—who are shopping for a lovely gift for their wives.

You glance down at your phone again, lips pursed. Your foot resumes its anxious little tapping. You seem to have forgotten this perfect man in his suit, not quite picking up on the way his eyes track down your form.

"I really can't be late" Comes the resigned mutter. You know you'll have to come back tomorrow in hopes that the line might be shorter. Or, that they'll at least have more than two fucking bank tellers available.

Sighing, you shove your phone and check into your bag. "Well, it was nice meeting you" you tell the perfect stranger, only because you realize you've been talking to yourself for a minute now and you don't want him to think you're crazy.

He inclined his head towards you in a benign manner. Everything about him seems prim and poised and very perfect. "Likewise"

You give him an awkward little nod in return before scurrying out of the bank. You half jog, half walk (mumbling various little excuse me's to several people too glued to their phones to notice you) to your little car, a shitty blue Prius, which sputters like she doesn't want to start up. She never does, but usually it takes a good threat or two before the car hummers to life again.

"I swear, you're going straight to the junkyard the minute I can afford a better car" You tell the Prius, very sternly, throwing it into reverse and speeding out of the lot.

Your car pulls into the lot just in the nick of time. Not that it seems to matter much. You've taken one, two steps through the employee's back entrance when your manager, Noriko, descends down upon you.

"Where have you been?" She hisses, and tosses several coats down into your awaiting arms (this isn't the first time this has happened; so you expect it now). And it is because of your experience with Noriko and the shockingly cutthroat world of high end fashion that you also do not protest your right to have a lunch break unaccosted.

Your bubbly attitude often gives people ample room to misunderstand you. They see you, and your earnest shy smile and hear the slight Kansai accent (which you've been forced to attempt to mitigate) and make their quick assumptions about you.

A country bumpkin. Not the brightest in the bunch.

They don't seem to care that fashion has been your dream ever since you were a girl. Then again, most people in this wonderful big city of Tokyo don't seem to care about much other than themselves. They all want careers in fashion, and they're all more than willing to step on each other's necks if it'll get them a centimeter higher than a competitor.

Tokyo is a very draining place. You miss your homeland, the quaintness of Hyogo. The charm you never really saw until compared to the gritty, dirty reality of Tokyo. You have a love-hate with the city.

You enjoy your freedom. Being able to do what you'd like when you'd like to do it. You like how much there is to do. You can grab lunch in Shinjuku with your best friend, Keiko. Or go shopping on your rare day off. You don't like how mean the people are, the threat of homelessness or how you can barely ride the train to and from work without a creep trying to take photos under your skirt.

Before you began working as a retail consultant for Dior, you worked a number off odd jobs. Mostly to build experience, because you knew you weren't coming with the same credentials as other employees. People, they don't seem to realize that you're more than willing to get your hands dirty. In some ways, you're just like any other Tokyo-native.

That. And you're very determined. So, the next day, you return to the bank. The check in your hands, between your fingers, like a dainty cigarette. You're farther in the line than you were yesterday but that's alright. Labor was high and consumer traction was very slow. Noriko let you go home early.

So, in other words, you have all day.

At least; that's what you think until it nears closer and closer to 5 PM—closing time. You don't start up with that anxious foot tapping again (the last time, the mother in front of you turned and fixed you with a glare so hard you felt your heart drop down to your stomach) but it's a near thing.

To pass the time, you entertain yourself by studying your check. It isn't much (Noriko cut your hours...again) and you know you'll probably have to find a second job on top of this one. Ridiculous. Who knew adulthood would be so hard?

Well, other than your parents, who strongly advised against getting a 'stupid clothes job' in the first place. Of course, your parents also thought of your hobbies, interests and passions as silly, unimportant things.

Now you wondered if there was some truth to what they had said. Perhaps you just didn't like the delivery (considering you've been little to no contact with them both since you left for two years ago) (is it no contact if they don't want to talk to you either?).

You're pondering the depth of your rocky relationship with both of your parents when the perfect stranger from before somehow manages to sneak up on you.

You jump, about a foot in the air, to which he apologizes profusely for. You reassure him that you're quite alright and then proceed to awkwardly clam up on him. What were the chances that you would see him again, in the same exact circumstances? People that effortlessly gorgeous seem like one-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

The stranger has mercy on you. The corner of his lips quirk up into an almost smile, which settles your nerves immensely. "What a wonderful coincidence"

"Back again yourself, I see" You tease, and a natural smile opens itself up on your face. You feel both relaxed and unnerved by this man, who today, is wearing a different suit.

The pants and jacket are both a dusty mocha brown, it brings out a hidden layer of gold in his eyes. He's opted for a cream shirt and a soft golden brown tie. A man who knows his colors, and how to match them, apparently.

"Unfortunately" The stranger says, and then catches your eye. Realizing you were indeed staring, you jolt and then look literally anywhere else. "And you? Are you hoping for some success today?"

"Yes" You tell him, brightening. You brandish your check with a little wave. "I got off early, if you can believe it"

"Very good" The way he says it, he somehow manages to make it sound genuine and...not flirty, you aren't so bold as to think that. But something that could be flirtatious. Charming? "And what is it that you do for work?"

"Oh, I um," Should you really be telling someone where you work? Of course, this guy isn't a creep—you know a creep when you see one. It should be fine. He'll probably forget the minute you two part ways again. "I just. At Dior. I uhm. Help people. Obviously."

You want to apologize for having such a silly career. Clearly this man has a real job. Like...business-y. Whatever it is they do in corporate. Type on computers and have long meetings about numbers and destroying their competitors. Very serious, very important work.

"It's very fun..." You trail off, awkwardly. "I like it. Even if it's stressful"

"It certainly sounds that way. Very rewarding, doing things that are difficult" The stranger agrees, again with that almost-smile. "Do you work behind the counter, or are you a stylist consultant?"

You're shocked that he knows what a stylist is—much less cared to ask a follow-up question. You beam.

"I actually just got promoted recently to assistant stylist!" You tell him, eager. "I don't have enough experience to do it completely on my own yet, but someday I will. But. Erm, before that, I worked at the counter. A warzone the week before Labor Day and Mother's Day"

The line still does not move. The stranger makes a remark, careful and considerate, but you don't really hear him. Instead, you angle yourself forwards a bit. And—are you serious right now? The lady at the front of the line is in a (amicable!) conversation with the teller!

Anxiously, you bite at your lower lip, smacking the envelope against your palm to curb both your irritation and your anxiety. You really cannot afford to wait another day. Come on, seriously lady, there is a line. Can it not wait until closing?

"Shit," You curse at last, glancing at your phone. 4:49. There's no way she's going to wrap that conversation up and then somehow get to the remainder of the line in eleven minutes. Others seem to realize that as well, stepping out of line with similar muttered curses.

"You still have ten minutes"

You shake your head, beginning to step out of line and quickly sliding your check into your shoulder bag. "Nah. I seriously should just consider another bank because this getting absolutely ridic—"

The man sweeps effortlessly past you with a dignified air, cutting you off entirely. Blinking, you watch as he steps through the line. He reaches the booth, and you can hear him mumble, excuse me. He leans against the table, places a hand politely on the middle back of the woman holding up the line and says something to the teller.

Oh you lucky bastard, you think to yourself, watching the way the woman practically swoons.

The three of them talk in hushed whispers for a moment. This perfect stranger, with his nice blond hair slicked back, motions at you. The teller gushes and you can hear her exclaim oh dear! from where you are and then all three of them turn to look very openly at you.

Then, very oddly, this man beckons you forward with two fingers in a come-hither motion. Clueless, you look around, and once you determine that oh, he means me, you scurry to him.

"This kind man was just telling us about your situation" The woman at your side says, face doughy with sweetness. "And I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. Why don't you go ahead?"

"Oh–!" You say, mouth open slightly in surprise. You glance once more at the stranger, who raises his brows and you flush, fumbling for your check. "Thank you, it means a lot!"

"No problem, once you get to be my age, you sort of forget about time"

"Hush, Hitomi! You aren't even older than 60!" The teller admonishes, taking your check with ease. She turns towards you again, apologizes for the wait. You apologize too (mostly because you feel like you should) and tell her it was really no problem.

When you exit the bank, the man leaves with you. He holds the door open for you, doesn't accept your thanks and follows in step beside you. Is he going to follow you to your car, or something? Or is there something you're meant to say?

The only thing you can think of is, "How did you do that, back there?"

"Flattery" He tells you, traces of that smile and lilting voice gone. "I was a salaryman once upon a time. Apparently I still remember a thing or two"

"Well, regardless, you really saved me back there" You say, and really, he has no idea. Now your rent is going to be on time and you live to fight another day. He walks you to your car, and you assume the fancy one parked next to your disobedient Prius is his. Which makes a bit more sense. And to think he was following you! Silly. "Uhm."

The man stops, and turns to you expectantly.

The wind blows, and the receipt flutters wildly between your fingers, and on this day, which is starting to feel more like fate, you open your mouth to say something you have never said before :

"Uhm. I-if you aren't busy. Would you..." The man removes his sunglasses (he put them on the minute you stepped outside) and stares down at you. It makes you lose your entire train of thought. Just stop stammering like an idiot! "Would you like to get dinner? With me? As a thank you? It's late. If—oh, if that doesn't work I could do breakfast. Or coffee"

He breaks into a smile. Immediately, you feel incredibly stupid. What were you thinking? You don't want this man to think you're interested in him (you are). He is probably married. Oh. No wedding band. Okay then. Then, a beautiful model for a girlfriend.

The type of woman to shop at Dior instead of working at it.

"Right" Your face bursts into flame. Thank God he can't tell because of your complexion. You laugh uncomfortably, waving the air as if that'll make him forget your awkward proposition. "Sorry. That was dumb. I don't mean to keep you"

"No, don't apologize. You took me by surprise, that's all" Probably because I look terrible and I just tried to ask you out on a date. Only, instead of rejecting you, the man smiles, a real one. Says : "Did you have a specific place in mind?"

No. Of course not. Seconds ago, you were expecting him to laugh in your face (he doesn't seem like the type). Dumbly, you shake your head.

The man clicks his tongue, chiding almost, and what strange mannerisms he has! All very luxe, this sophisticated man. He glances at his watch and turns around half a step.

"No matter. We'll go to Afuri" He tells you, quite decidedly. "It's a brisk ten minute walk and the weather is pleasant"

"Oh—" You've seen Afuri. On the wealthy side of town. Where you absolutely cannot afford.

"Kento, Nanami" Nanami interrupts and guides you forward with a gentle hand, like a sheep in need of herding. "They serve very delicious ramen and an agreeable atmosphere"

You have no idea what consists of an 'agreeable atmosphere', but you do know good ramen when you taste it.

All traces of anxiety disappear. Your face brightens considerably. "I love ramen!"

"What a coincidence" Nanami murmurs, and gives you a secretive smile that makes you feel important. Like you alone are the center of his world. "So do I"

Noriko eyes you suspiciously when you clock into work the next morning—on time, you might add. You know you're oddly chipper (usually when you clock in you look like you're prepared for war). Over the moon chipper. But theres no helping it. Last night you went on a date!

Oh, and Nanami was just that. Perfect. Gentlemanly.

The owner of Afuri apparently knows him by name, and came personally to greet him. He didn't seem either too shocked or too unsurprised to see you, so you had no way of knowing if this was Nanami's common Date Spot. But you watched the two men exchange pleasantries for a few moments and then, Nanami gestured to you and said, what will you have dear?

Dear.

You ordered drinks and they came wizardly fast. Nothing too crazy. A yuzu highball and a water with a lemon, the former you sipped delicately. And when you puzzled endlessly over the menu (trying not to look too closely at the prices), Nanami ordered for you.

Normally, you'd protest that sort of thing. You can order for yourself. But the way he had said it, that smooth cadence. It made you seem foolish to reject. Especially when he said, I have a feeling you'll like it.

Which you did.

He was a most perfect conversationalist. He seemed genuinely interested in you. In your interests, your hobbies outside of work. What you did for work, the actual details. How long has it been since you've talked to someone who wasn't a coworker about what you did; and have them be interested? You didn't seem to be boring him at all!

Of course, you didn't want Nanami to think you were someone who just liked to talk about themself. So, obviously you tried to get him to answer a few questions too. But he neatly avoids them, or answers them in a way that leaves you hungering for more, but unsure of how to ask for it.

Even when he paid, handing his black card to the waiter, eyeing you as if he dared you to interject, and said, "Ladies should never pay on the first date" , you wouldn't let yourself get worked up about it. That he accepted the outing as a date.

Because you and Nanami were very obviously from two different worlds. It was a break in monotony, for both you and him. And you were sure it wasn't going to happen again. But that didn't mean you couldn't daydream about it. Again and again.

You're in the back of the store, (loitering, to be honest) while you open boxes of purses, when Noriko comes into the back, huffing up a storm. Her beady eyes pin you in place.

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your radio on?" She says, impatient.

"Sorry, Noriko-san" You don't tell her that your radio had actually been on, you were just so distracted you wouldn't know if there was a level five hurricane slamming into the store right now. "I'll be done with these in a moment. But did you need anything?"

"There's a man requesting assistance" Noriko grits, and beckons you forward. Not the cool way Nanami had managed to do it yesterday. You don't follow. She looks like she wants to fire you on the spot. "He has requested you specifically. Hurry up."

"Oh!" Heart beating in trepidation, you place the box-cotters on a table and hurry to the floor. Your face brightens when you see Nanami standing there, back turned, engaing in polite conversation with the front desk attendant, Yuri (boy are you glad to be promoted). "Hi, Nanami! We meet again"

"Yes, it seems that way" He murmurs and then looks around the store. "I have an obligatory company dinner tonight and I need something to wear"

Immediately, you enter Work Mode. It's laughably easy how quickly you manage to forget your nerves around him. On the (very) few occasions you've met him, you can assuredly gauge his personal style.

Nothing too gaudy, bold or heavy on the print. So that's a big no to the RTW for Spring this year. You're so zoned in that you realize you aren't actually making conversation with him, like you typically would with any other customer. You turn to apologize but the...heavy look in Nanami's eye stops you.

"Er....?" You mumble, holding one of the shirts in an iron-tight grip. "Is everything alright, Nanami-san"

"Just Nanami is fine" He corrects and then the look (whatever it was) is gone. He smiles. "Have you made your selection?"

You look down at the three items in your hand with a critical eye. You've decided on charcoal gray for the suit itself, but instead of the white undershirt, you've opted for that nice pale beige. You are quite pleased with it and it's also easy (perhaps too easy) for you to imagine Nanami wearing it tonight for his company dinner.

He never said what company, or what he does there. But you don't feel right asking.

"Is there anything that catches your eye?" Nanami inquires suddenly. Or. Not exactly suddenly. He doesn't look or sound nervous. That's all you.

"Oh...! Uhm" Oh God, how do you always manage to stutter when he talks to you? You shrug one shoulder. Of course there are things here that you like, it's part of the charm. "Depends on a lot of things. The occasion, season, dresscode...you know. Practicality is key"

Nanami smiles. Manages somehow to take the things from your hands, steer you onto the women's side of the store and rub your shoulder all at the same time. "How about this : the occasion is tomorrow night at 9:45 PM with reservations for dinner at L'Osier"

Oh, he's asking me on another date, is your first thought. You repeat the thought again and then once more before it finally hits you : this is your second date. Somehow; Nanami found you charming enough for a second date. How cool is that?

You select a dress, jewelry and heels and head to the front counter with Nanami. Yuri perks up, the youngness in her seeing an opportunity for being close to her first bit of work drama. She scans your items, making polite conversation with Nanami and all of you pretend that you can't see Noriko circling steadily around you like sharks in a kiddie pool.

Demurely, you walk him to the door—mostly because you don't want to go back to work just yet. Even with his arms full of bags, he still won't let you open the door for him, and instead—opens it for you. You're not supposed to leave the store, but considering he just spent a little under 2 million yen, you're okay with bending the rules.

"Well," You start, approaching his car. A lilted sigh escapes your lips. "This looks like you"

Nanami gives you a wry smile. You've earned so many of them. He really makes you feel special. You thought women weren't serious about men making them feel like that. But no. The feeling is real. A world's difference it makes, dating a man who actually likes you.

He leans into your space, giving you time to back away but somehow none at all, and kisses your cheek. His cologne invades your nose and you feel the softest tickle of his (sparse) facial hair.

"This is me" He affirms, again with that smile. He opens the passenger door to his car and places everything inside. Still, you stand there, trying to find something to say. "I'll pick you up at 8:45—"

"Wait" You interject, giggling, "But you don't have my address!"

Nanami pauses. Then chuckles. "Of course. I got ahead of myself. Would you text it to me?"

You don't have to ask me twice, you think to yourself, hurriedly pulling your phone out of your back pocket to do so. Nanami grabs ahold of his own phone, and his eyes flicker up to yours when the device buzzed with notification.

"As I was saying, 8:45" He says, mouth tilted downwards in that maybe-a-smile way. "There's somewhere I want to take you before our reservation"

That intrigues you immediately. Eyes brightening, you forget yourself a moment, as eager as a child on Christmas morning. "Ooooh! Where?"

That gets a real smile out of him. This time, you don't see him coming, and he presses a quick kiss to your slackened mouth entirely too quickly for you to process it.

"All in due time, my dear" He says, this time in farewell. You wave to him as he drives off, girlishly giggly.

Really, he's just so perfect. He makes you feel like a lady being courted. Nanami Kento is the perfect gentleman.

The surprise is perfectly...perfect.

An art gallery! How wonderful was that? You've always dreamt of going to one. Wearing a beautiful dress and heels. Eating fancy finger foods while gazing upon beautiful works of modern art. It helps that your date was so well versed in everything.

Nanami claimed to be nothing more than a mere business man, but you weren't fooled at all. A man who wore suits that nice had to have an eye for the fine arts. After a little poking, you were able to get him to discuss the art you viewed.

Never in a million years would you have imagined being able to attended. You might be working in the middle of the shopping district, right in the heart of Tokyo's wealthy elite, you aren't actually apart of that world. You were afraid the other guests might be able to sense it, but with your state of dress, you blended right in.

Then came dinner. L'Osier was full of mulled conversation at the hour. You and Nanami weren't the only couple having date night. But, by the way he seemed to entrance you, anyone would have assumed you and he were the only ones in the room.

He asks a lot of questions. Even more than your first date. But it doesn't feel like an interrogation, and really, you've never had someone so interested in you before. The attention is nice. He wants to know everything about you : your childhood home, if your parents are accepting of your lifestyle here in Tokyo.

"They're not...uhm,exactly supportive" He can tell you're holding out on him. But of course he doesn't pry. You don't think he's even capable of something like that. "But I'm sure they'll come around"

"We must all leave our parents someday" Nanami assures, in that steadfast way of his. He makes it sound like the solid truth.

"Yes, I guess so" You mumble, even though you don't like the idea of leaving your parents behind forever. Your relationship with them is...tense. But something in you can't quite shake them loose. You're convinced that one day, they'll turn around and you'll get the happy family you've always dreamt of having.

Sensing your plunge in mood, Nanami expertly switches courses. He makes you smile again, makes you forget all about being sad. About everything in your life that is not quite Perfect. Being with Nanami, even for a short while, makes everything around you hazy and dream-like.

The waiter appears, seemingly out of nowhere. And there goes the end of such a wonderful little date.

"Thank you, again, for a wonderful night" You tell him, pointing your spoon at him like a weapon. A smile alights itself onto your features. "But the next one is on me. I mean it"

"Of course" Nanami says, in a way that makes it seem like that won't at all be happening.

But you're determined. You aren't going to let him think you're after him for his money. You aren't like that. A gold-digger. Still, a small part of you expects...something as he to drive you home. A smart, well placed line about you going back to his.

But he doesn't. He doesn't do anything un-gentlemanly. He doesn't even try to feel you up in the car. So, it makes you feel worse for wanting it. For wanting his hand on your knee, maybe sliding up to your thigh. That feeling of his lips against yours (oh why hadn't you been paying more attention when it happened???). But it doesn't happen.

You don't go on many dates. Is the ball in your court now? Is this where you give him some sort of sign that you want more? Is that the proper, ladylike thing to do? Most girls wouldn't right?

As subtly as you can, you tilt your head to glance at him. Nanami catches your gaze immediately, and patiently says, "Yes, dear?" to prompt you into speaking.

"Oh...uhm...nothing" You stammer, wringing your hands. The pet name makes you smile, even amidst the anxiety. How sweet, how charming he is. But you take a moment to look around and that's when you realize where you are :

This is Nanami's neighborhood. The sky-rise apartments and fancy penthouses. There isn't a single soul out loitering or smoking, like there would he if he had taken you home at this hour.

"Forgive me, I need to go up and get something" He says, killing the engine. Then, he turns to look at you. Really look. You can feel his eyes lingering at the swell of your breasts. But it doesn't feel perverted or gross. "Of course, you're welcome to come up"

And that's that.

There isn't any talking, any pausing to figure things out. As soon as the door closes behind you, Nanami is (gently) crowding you up against it. His hand goes past your head to turn the lock and then your vision goes dark when he kisses you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and faster still when one of his big hands cups your breasts through your dress.

"Do you know how beautiful you look right now?" He asks, voice husky and strained in a way you've never heard before. You couldn't verbally answer him even if you wanted to, because you lose all sense of thought when he starts trailing kisses down the side of your throat.

You let out a soft yelp when Nanami lifts you—actually lifts you, hands around your waist, and you hear that soft little chuckle that reverberates through your blood.

He sets you gently down on the marble island bar and lowers himself to the floor. You can't see him for a moment; but you can feel his hands lift your feet, first the right and then the left, to unbuckle your heels. He grabs ahold of your ankle afterwards, trailing softly kisses up the length of your legs in an utterly devoted way that makes your stomach twist in knots.

Nanami stands, kissed whatever skin he can reach, almost desperate in the hurried way his fingers trail down the center of your back before finding the zipper. His hand lingers on the warm skin before darting away. The passionate frenzy continues : you pull at his tie, he slides off his belt and unzips his slacks. You lift your hips and Nanami slides you out of that dress.

Your belly rises and falls, muscles clenching when he traces a path from the valley of your breasts on downward : eyes trained on yours the whole time.

The crown of his head is suddenly closer, flaxen blond strands glowing in the moonlight as he mouths at your breasts. You suck in a harried little noise, unsure if this is actually happening. Your fingers sink into his hair (it is as soft as it looks, wow) tugging gently, overshadowed by the low, satisfied groan he gives you.

Almost reluctantly, Nanami pulls away.

Hands, one of each, land on your knees. Quickly understanding the silent message, you spread your legs. Again, Nanami lowers himself downwards so that his face is aligned with your pussy.

The reality of what you're doing, what you're about to do, hits you in the worst possible moment. A bit of hesitation cleaves your heart. You've been on exactly two dates with this man, should you really be letting him do this? In his kitchen no less? This isn't your first time, but you always wait to have sex with your boyfriends until...well, until you've gone exclusive.

What happens after this? Will Nanami leave after he's gotten 'it' from you? Will he think of you any different afterwards? He doesn't seem like the sort. But maybe...maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought.

That makes you suck in a rattling noise.

"W-wai—uhm...I don't, I'm not—"

Nanami mouths at the skin of your inner thighs. If you thought it was hard to handle his eye-contact before (back when you were fully clothed) then it's nothing compared to now. Whatever intelligent thought you had seems to have jumped ship with the rest of your common sense.

"Sssh" Nanami murmurs, like you're more spooked deer than woman. You can feel the expelled air of his words against your skin—it makes you shiver. "Don't you trust me, my dear?"

Whatever grievances you had on the matter are no more. You're reduced to noises, whimpers and keens. You have the sense enough to grab onto Nanami's hair; remembering that he seemed to like it. He does, groaning louder than you can moan and doubling down on his efforts.

He makes you cum embarrassingly quickly. Only, it must not be enough for him, because he does it again. This time with his fingers, mouthing little marks into your thighs. He seems to know your body better than you do, reaching places you never had before.

As fucked out as you are; you don't protest it at all when Nanami picks you up. You just wrap your legs around his waist, noting that he's still fully clothed, head resting on his shoulder as he carries you down the hall into (what you assume must be) his bedroom.

Like an offering, Nanami sets you down in the center of the bed. He is both rushed and methodical as he strips himself of his clothes. What little hurriedness he had before seems to be no more. His movements are all strangely calculated, but you don't have much at all to focus on that now.

You panic again, just a little, because Nanami makes no effort to put on a condom. But he just murmurs that soft little hushing noise again and pushes his cock inside.

He slides in with no resistance, like he was maybe meant to be there. It's all so romantic and poetic and symbolic that you don't have words for it. This must be what people mean when they describe sex as beautiful. It feels nice. No. Better.

It feels so right. You mewl, and you heard Nanami's little fond chuckle above you, draping over you like a blanket. Your hands paw at his skin, searching to bring him closer somehow.

"Kento," You breathe, gasping, with utter exhilaration as he shifts and pushes deeper inside. "Ke–Kento"

"Good girl, that's right. Say my name"

And you do. Over and over.

You wake up well past the time you're meant to clock in for work. Your phone buzzes angrily, and, panicked, you yank it off the charger (this isn't even your charger—what the fuck?) to check the dozens of messages Noriko has sent you, all demanding to know why you aren't there.

Oh fuck. You open your phone completely to see that your alarms had been disabled. All fifteen of them.

Your nose twitches. Oh; what is that delicious smell? Done with wallowing over your life and the mysterious consequences, you fully poke your head out from the blanket (again; not yours). And then, sort of late, you finally realized where you are.

This is Nanami's apartment. You slept over.

Nanami knows you're still here. Obviously. Because he's in the kitchen making breakfast. And maybe turned off your alarms. Maybe even made you late for work; although that's your responsibility instead of yours and the sex was so good you don't want to blame him for anything.

You're still naked, which is embarrassing. But, of course, Nanami is a gem, and he's laid out a matching pair of pajamas for you across the back of one of his arm chairs. You scamper for it, noting that it is indeed somehow your size (he pays more attention to detail than you thought) and you hurry on to the bathroom to freshen up.

Finally, when you can avoid him no longer, you shuffle out into the kitchen.

His back is facing you, though you can tell he registers your presence. Awkwardly, you wave at him and give him one of your shy little smiles. Nanami smiles back.

"Good morning" He greets, voice delightfully rough. He gestures in front of him. "Would you like an omelette, my dear?"

"Oh, uhm! Yes" Because you tell he's already made two and it would be weird to refuse him. You don't want him to think you're unappreciative, or anything.

He seems pleased with the acceptance and serves you up soon thereafter. An omelette, mushroom, tomatoes, ham, spinach and cheese. Delicious. And a delightful little mimosa; which makes you feel like a lady at brunch.

You both tuck into your meals in calm ambience. He's doing something on his phone; perhaps responding to emails or something business-y like that, so he isn't all too conversational. Not that you mind. You like a bit of quiet in the morning anyway.

"Would you like to go to the botanical garden today?"

Surprised, you simply blink. You go to nod and then halfway through, your eyes widen and you start rapidly shaking your head instead.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry. I got so wrapped up I completely forgot about work" You really did. You were just sitting there, for fifteen minutes, maybe even twenty, thinking to yourself about nothing of importance. When you should have been swallowing down breakfast and running back to the store before Noriko could fire you. "Noriko's gonna kill me"

"If you're this late, you might as well take the whole day off" He says, like the voice of reason that he is.

Nanami gives you this look, suddenly, knowing, sharp. Like he knows exactly what you're thinking about. But that would be impossible. He wouldn't know that you're thinking of this, of him, as some dream could only ever been just that—a dream. A pretty illusion. But where you know you should be wise, and leave before Nanami can leave you first, you want to sink further into it.

You like being spoiled. You like not having to work so hard and stress so much and you like being listened to and you like that Nanami, at least for now, makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

How long can this possibly last? you think to yourself.

"So," He prompts, looking at his watch. "Is that a yes, my dear?"

"Yes," You say, and find that you don't even hesitate a little bit. "That sounds like a lot of fun"

You'll end things. You swear you will. Just not right now. But you know that this dream can't last forever. It's a cliche; but you are really both from different worlds. You're not a fool. You know that.

But it's not wrong to want to dream with him for a little longer.

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