Except you had. And his reaction was 1000 times better than you had expected. You were sitting on his couch, plotting, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When he retreated into the kitchen to refill your drink, you quickly whipped out the lip smackers, lathering it on your lips like a mad woman. When he returned with your drink, you waited patiently, knowing soon enough he would be the one to cave in and kiss you. And the poor boy fell right into your trap. Not even 5 minutes after settling into the couch beside you, he simply couldn't help himself. Steve leaned over, gently turning your chin towards him with two fingers. His head dipped low. The second his lips found yours, the effect was in place. He startled slightly at the new taste, letting out a sound that was a mix of confusion and delight. His large hand cupped your cheek carefully, pulling you closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. He reeled back a few inches, licking his lips which now held hints of cherry.

"Did you? Is that cherry?" He blinked at you, stunned.

You nodded, nose brushing his lightly. "Mhm, thought it would be a nice surprise." Your arms found their way around his neck, lips grazing the side of his mouth.

A strangled noise caught in his throat, his hands finding your waist as you shifted yourself over his lap. "You did this for me, baby?" He looked up at you.

You hummed a yes, kissing along his jaw carefully. "You like the flavor?"

A slow smirk spread across his lips, hands tightening on your waist. "Hm, not sure. I think I might need another taste."

You let out an airy laugh before your lips met his again.

Since that night, Steve had turned the moment into a little game. He made it his life's mission to find more and more flavors of chapstick. He browsed all of the convenience stores within a 20 mile radius of Hawkins, always returning with at least one new colorful tube of Lip Smackers.

Each time he found a new one, he would conveniently point out how chapped your lips looked and offer you up his newest find. You played into his little game, always taking the offered up balm and immediately applying it before giving him a 'thank you' kiss.

You knew exactly how to tell if he enjoyed a particular flavor or not. If he liked it he would nod to himself as he licked his bottom lip to get a second taste. If he found it to be average he would simply nod. If he wasn't a fan he would let out a narrow hum before holding out his hand for you to return the small tube back to him.

Steve had absolutely no shame in telling you exactly which ones he liked the most, in fact he had a running list:

Cherry (duh it was the first one)

Strawberry Kiwi (cuz it reminds him of Capri Suns)

Vanilla (a classic of course)

Coca-Cola (tastes like an ice)

And the list goes on and on and on, but the bottom two that he simply threw away after the first taste test were from a specialty pack he had found in October. Steve didn't know what he was thinking when he bought the candy flavored pack, but he immediately regretted handing you the licorice flavor and the candy corn flavor. Thinking about them made him sick and had paused his game for approximately 3 days.

Despite the failed halloween flavors, he pushed onward, finding more and more lip balms for you to try. But there was one particular flavor that somehow kept evading him, one flavor that he had been on the hunt for ever since the game had begun.

No matter where he went, where he ventured, how far he traveled, he couldn't seem to track down a singular cotton candy flavored lip balm. It was like the universe was playing some cruel trick on him, because each store he went into had the same empty spot where the elusive flavor was supposed to sit. He didn't know why he was so hell bent on finding that particular flavor, but ever since he noticed it was never in stock he was determined to find it.

Steve had complained to you about how the flavor was specifically evading him, because he had seen plenty of girls whip it out almost tauntingly at Family Video. You listened to his wild ranting, knowing damn well that you had the exact thing he was looking for tucked up in the vanity in your room. But that wasn't for him to know, at least not yet. You were saving that for a special occasion.

And said special occasion had arrived faster than you anticipated.

One year. One full year with your beautiful boyfriend, Steve. A year of Steve being the best boyfriend you could have asked for. A year full of thoughtful dates, gestures, gifts, conversations, long nights. And while the whole chapstick game had only been going on a few months, you figured this was the perfect time to put an end to his suffering journey.

The day had been absolutely perfect. Steve had managed to convince Keith to give him the full day off weeks in advance, had double checked a week before, and triple checked the day before.

He had arrived at your house at exactly 9:45 AM, knocking gently on your front door with a hand picked bouquet of wildflowers. You opened the door, eyes already sparkling at the mere sight of him and that sweet smile.

He drove you to a breakfast joint, hand not leaving yours unless there was a door to be held open. After breakfast, the two of you shopped around the local stores in Hawkins. You bought Steve a vinyl he had been eyeing for weeks, and he bought you the next book in the series you were currently reading.

The day was full of sickeningly sweet smiles, cute conversations, loving looks, and tender touches. It was perfect.

After dinner at Enzo's, you went back to Steve's house. His parents were of course on some ridiculously long vacations, not that Steve minded anymore. At least not the way he used to mind it. Because now, he had you to fill the house. Where before, the only sounds that Steve was used to hearing in the house was his own breathing and the tv, there was now your laughter, your voice, the very essence of you that filled the home.

You and Stever were sprawled out on the carpet of his bedroom floor, his new vinyl playing softly in the back, paper supplies covering the space. You were busy decorating the wooden frame with small gems and sparkles, while Steve kept checking the positioning of the picture in his frame. A picture of the two of you smiling like idiots at each other, captured by Jonathan, sat nestled perfectly between the frame and the glass. Steve had carefully decorated the frame with paper hearts in your favorite color.

"Mkay, I think I'm done!" You smiled, holding the frame up and admiring your work.

"Lemme see." Steve looked up from his own creation, smiling as you turned yours around. And while the frame was beautifully decorated, Steve couldn't manage to take his eyes off the photo. "Stunning."

"Steve, you're not even looking at the frame." You laughed.

"Can't help it, you just look so beautiful in that picture, baby."

You turned it around, looking at the photo again. You smiled at the image, "Mhm, and you look rather handsome, I suppose."

"You suppose?" He feigned a hurt expresion.

"Can't bolster your ego too much or it'll go straight to your hair."

"You mean head?"

"No. I mean hair. Whenever you're feeling suuuuper confident your hair gets like 10 times bigger." You teased.

His jaw dropped, a hand coming up and patting his hair gently. "It does not!"

"Totally does." You bit back a laugh as he sat up, glaring at you with no real malice.

"Well I don't hear you ever complaining about it." He crossed his arms.

You rolled your eyes, sitting up and carefully placing the frame up on his desk, "Yeah cause I keep you humble and therefore keep your hair at a reasonable height."

Steve laughed, eyes following your movements. "You're so mean to me."

You crossed your legs, humming as you finished off the drink beside you. "You're right where you want to be."

Steve nodded, "Sure am." He placed his frame next to yours, then took the empty glass from your hand without a second thought. "Refill?"

You nodded, gathering up all the supplies that littered the floor. Steve kissed your head before disappearing out of the room. You hustled, finishing cleaning up the mess before you rustled through your purse looking for your lip balm. You heard the stairs creak lightly as you pulled out the pink and blue tube. You hastily applied the chapstick to your lips, really lathering it against your lips before tucking the tube into your back pocket.

You flopped onto the bed inconspicuously right as Steve walked back into the room with your drink. You took it, placing it on the nightstand before patting the spot next to you on the bed. Steve sat beside you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders like it was second nature. He wordlessly reached over you for the remote, halting mid reach. He sniffed the air briefly, brows furrowing.

"Something wrong?" You held back the amusement in your voice.

He shook his head, grabbing the remote and settling back into place beside you, switching on the tv. "Whatcha wanna watch?"

You shrugged, snuggling into his side. "You pick."

"Alright, but don't complain about what I pick because you totally could've picked something."

You laughed, knowing damn well the movie would be forgotten within the next 2 minutes, "Whatever you say, baby."

Steve turned on some horror movie, secretly using it as a way to get you closer to him. Little did he know, you would be on him regardless of whatever movie he picked out.

Not even five minutes into the movie you shifted beside him, head in the crook of his neck, planting small kisses against his skin.

Steve blinked, caught off guard. You were almost never this bold. His arm around your shoulder tightened, the feeling of your lips on his skin sending jolts down his spine. He let out a happy sigh as your mouth slowly trailed up. That's when he caught it again.

That very faint smell. The smell he had been chasing down, so close. He pulled back slightly, grabbing your chin, eyes on your lips. He spotted the familiar shine of lip balm on your mouth, and his breath caught. He breathed in the scent, confirming his suspisions.

You smiled up at him sweetly, innocently, "What is it, baby?"

"You found it?" He questioned, ignoring the facade you were putting up.

"Why don't you find out?" Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at the back of his head. You shifted closer, your lips brushing his playfully. The scent of cotton candy hit him like a freight train.

That small brush was all it took for Steve to break. His lips were on yours before you could blink. The kiss was unlike anything you had witnessed from him before, it was heavy and needy. Steve wasted no time swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, the sweet flavor flooding his senses. He pressed closer, his own lips smashed against yours so hard that it knocked the air out of your lungs. Steve's tongue traveled from the fat of your bottom lip to your own tongue, chasing down the sugary taste. He could taste it everywhere, your lips, your tongue mixed with his, it was all consuming. Steve breathed in through his nose, and even then the scent flooded him. He pulled and sucked on your bottom lip, as his hands dug into your hips. He hauled you over his lap, still on a mission to claim the sweet flavor on your lips.

Your head spun as he kissed you, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he continued his conquest on your mouth. A gentle moan slipped through as he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth before smoothing it over with his tongue. You pressed yourself against him, eyes squeezed shut.

When the flavor had run out, Steve pulled back, breathing heavily. "Where did you find it?" He looked up at you with hazy eyes, his hands rubbing your hips. He guided your hips against his own, watching the way your breath caught at the friction as you tried to catch your own breath.

"Didn't find it. I've always had it, baby." You confessed.

He stared up at you, immediately understanding your little scheme. "You're a little minx, holding out on me for so long. You got it with you, baby?" He pressed you down harder, admiring how your eye lashes fluttered.

You bit your lip, nodding. "Mhm, back pocket."

Steve's hand briefly left your hips, squeezing your ass before pulling the Lip Smackers from the pocket in your jeans. You dragged your hips against his roughly, head falling onto his shoulder at the contact. Despite the layers separating you from him, you should feel him beneath you, and you needed more.

Steve uncapped the small tube, gripping your chin firmly and reapplying the lip balm to your lips and then to his own. You watched him with glossy eyes as he pressed long kisses to your neck, transfering the balm onto your skin. After covering your neck, he pulled your lips against his again.

Now you could taste the sugary flavor on him. You could taste the way it conjoined with the balm already on your own lips, the scent washing over you hard. Steve groaned, letting the taste take control of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his skin hot against yours. You pulled at his hair, a slight whimper falling from his lips. He had never felt so addicted to something in his life. All his senses told him that kissing you, tasting you, was like oxygen, it was a need.

Steve kissed you until your lips were red, swollen, and tingly. He moved on from your mouth back down to your neck where he had previously left purposeful traces of the lip balm on your skin. Steve worked your neck like it was water in the middle of a drought. He kissed, teethed, pulled, sucked, and smoothed over the skin, leaving bruises in his wake.

You smiled, already in absolute bliss as you rolled against him while he latched onto your neck. Neither of you were quite sure when your jeans had come off or when he had followed suit. But you could feel him fully, and it was almost painful the way you needed him.

You pulled his face away from the top of your chest. He looked up at you with heavy eyes, breathing heavy. "God, you're addicting."

You smiled, thumb brushing his swollen lip. "I think you just really like cotton candy."

He shook his head, "No, I like cotton candy on you. You make it taste even better than it is, you make it compelling. Like I need to taste all of you, every square inch, or I'll die without it, die without you."

You cupped his face, "I need you too, baby. So bad. Please, take what you need, take me, all of me."

Steve stared up at you, eyes deep in yours. He laid you down on the covers, hovering over you briefly as you reapplied the lip balm to his lips. You bit down on your lip, hand in his hair as he kissed lower and lower and lower.

If you had learned anything from that night it was that; 1- you needed way better concealer, 2- Steve was a MUNCH, and 3- you were going to need a lot more cotton candy flavored lip balm.

And luckily for Steve, it seemed the universe had lifted whatever curse had been keeping him away from the elusive chapstick. Because now, it seemed as though every time he went into a store, he came out with at least one more small tube of the sugary sweet flavor.

“of course, sir! let me look that up for you,” you said, opening the computer to check him in. “what’s your name?”

“um, should be under abbot. doctor jack abbot.”

“oh, a doctor! you must be really tense,” you joked. you found his name in the computer and pressed the button to check him in. “found you! and it looks like you’re with me today, sir! let me clear out a room and then we can get started, okay?”

jack nodded. “yeah. of course.”

jack sat down in the lobby while he waited for you, trying to ease the blush on his cheeks. doctor collins, the one who’d referred him to this place, had said your touch was like magic, but she failed to mention your face was just as mesmerizing. how was he supposed to get through an hour of your hands all over his body when all he wanted to do was admire you?

a few minutes later, you came back to the lobby and found jack’s eyes, smiling. “doctor abbot? right this way, sir.”

jack stood up and followed behind you as you led him to one of the massage rooms. “s’just jack, sweetheart. i’ll start getting flashbacks to the er if you keep calling me that.”

you giggled and opened the door for him. “sorry, sorry! but you worked hard for your title. you deserve to wear it out.”

jack chuckled and walked into the room. jesus, what kind of karma was it that you were as sweet as your face? he might just implode by the end of this.

“so, jack,” you hummed, testing the name out on your tongue, “our standard session runs for an hour and involves a deep massage of the entire upper and lower body. you can, of course, tell me to stop at any point or request less or more of anything. does that sound good?”

jack nodded. “yeah. it does.”

“good! if you’re comfortable, i’m going to have you take your shirt and jeans off. you can change while i grab my supplies, okay?”

jack nodded again, trying not to think too hard about the thought of being half naked before you. “sounds good.”

“great! i’ll be back.”

you left the room to grab some of the items you used in massages, like essential oils, creams, stones, and things of the like, and knocked upon your return. at jack’s little, “come in!” you stepped inside the room.

jack stood before you almost timidly, his hands fixed behind his back as he shifted from foot to foot. you smiled at him and set your basket of things on the counter. “you can lay down on the table, flat on your stomach, jack. let’s start there.”

“okay,” jack said. he did as told and laid down with his face against the headrest, his arms crossed below it. 

“the prosthetic’s. . .okay, right?” he said after a minute.

“oh, of course! we see clients with prosthetics all the time, don’t worry,” you said. you lathered some oil onto your palms and dripped some over jack’s back. “we’re going to start with some oil. might be a little cold, okay?”

“no worries,” jack said. he felt internally vulnerable being laid out like this, but he supposed there was no other way to do a massage. whatever it took to alleviate the tension, right?

you started working your fingers into the small of jack’s back, locating any knots and making a mental note of what areas needed the most attention. jack let out little grunts here and there as you massaged him.

“so, how do you like your job as a doctor?” you said.

jack chuckled. “it’s chaos in there. but i don’t think i could do anything else.”

“mmm. where do you work?”

“pittburgh trauma. not too far from here.”

“oh, i see! well, they are very lucky to have you, jack,” you said thoughtfully. “you deserve to shake some of that stress off.”

“thank you, s- sweetheart,” jack rasped through a particularly deep press into his back, your knuckles pressing into his skin.

“of course, jack! is this feeling okay?”

“yeah, more than okay,” he returned. he tried not to think too much of how his name sounded on your lips.

“good! happy to help,” you hummed. you made sure to also work out the kinks around his neck and shoulders, knowing people tended to hold a lot of tension there. you then applied some cream to his non prosthetic leg, smoothing it into his skin.

“just seeing where you’re most tense, okay, jack?” you said. “can you lay on your back for me?”

jack nodded his agreement and turned over to lay on his back, trying hard not to let his attraction to you show. he had yet to reign in the flush of his cheeks and was praying you weren’t thinking anything of it.

you started to gently massage his chest with the same oil from before, locating any kinks or knots that needed taking care of. you found them to mostly present in the area around his collarbone as well as his lower stomach.

jack was mostly silent until your fingers reached the latter area. at an unintentional swipe of your palm against his happy trail, jack let out a groan louder than any he’d elicited since you started.

“fuck,” he cussed silently. you’d thought you’d hurt him at first until you realized the issue—since he’d been stripped down to his boxers, it was impossible to miss the now prominent bulge in them.

“oh, i’m so sorry! are you. . .are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

jack shook his head. “s’okay, honey. i’m fine.”

“okay,” you said with a small frown. you stayed silent as you lathered more cream onto the other side of his leg, not knowing what to say, or even how to say it.

after you were done, you eventually found your voice, unable to ignore the elephant in the room. you cleared your throat and asked, “does that happen often, jack?”

“yeah. i’m sorry, i should have warned you. i’m an old man, sweetheart,” jack laughed, scratching the back of his head when he sat up to fully face you. “my age has caught up to me down there, if you know what i mean.”

“y- yeah, i do,” you said. you bit your lip as a thought occurred to you.  “i know this might be a little inappropriate, but. . .maybe i could help?”

jack let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “i couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“you’re not asking! i mean, you are supposed to be leaving here feeling relaxed,” you said. “i can help you, jack.”

jack tilted his head. “you’re sure?”

“mhm! so sure,” you said, stepping next to the bedside. “let me help you.”

“okay. . .” jack said with nonchalance, though internally, he could hardly believe an opportunity like this had just fallen in his lap, pun intended. “do you. . .have you ever done anything like this before?”

your hand found its way against his bulge of its own accord, palming it gently. “more or less. just tell me what you need.”

jack let a soft grunt out at the feeling of your hand against him. “you can take it out, sweetie. might feel better.”

you nodded and did as told, slowly removing his cock from his boxers. his tip was already dribbling pre-cum which spilled down the length of it, making your breath pick up a little. you started to stroke him carefully, keeping your eyes on him.

“is that good?”

“yeah, sweetheart. so fucking good,” jack murmured. he guided your hand to wrap fully around his dick, helping you pump it up and down. you followed his lead and stroked him the same way on your own, even circling his tip with your thumb.

“guess massages aren’t the—jesus—only thing you’re good at, huh?”

you giggled. “this is technically a massage if you think about it.”

“a good one, at that,” jack grunted. “fuck, your hands are like magic.”

“happy to be of service, jack,” you said breathily. you were feeling pretty worked up yourself at the sight of him succumbing to your touch.

“yeah?” jack said. “then. . .you wanna put your mouth on me, honey? think that’d reaaally help me.”

“anything to help you!” you said willingly. you lowered your head down to kiss the head of his cock, replacing your thumb, before slowly taking him into your mouth. you stared up at jack to look for approval in his expression, and moaned contently when you saw it there immediately.

“fuuuck, that’s it. just like that, doll,” jack moaned, holding his hand in your hair. he guided you up and down on his cock slowly, not wanting to hurt you by picking up the pace. “making this old man feel so good.”

you took him in a little deeper, trying your best to please him. you didn’t stop until your nose was flush against his balls, and by then, you were sucking him off completely, the only sound that of your whimpers and each pump of his dick down your throat.

“you’re doing so well, sweetie. fuck, might have to cum already,” jack moaned. “you always so generous with your clients?”

you pulled off to look up at him, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. he rubbed it off with his thumb, swiping it over your bottom lip. “n- no. just you, jackie.”

“jackie, huh? you really are a sweetheart,” jack said. “you gonna finish me off, honey? make me feel good?”

you nodded eagerly, and before he could respond, you were back to sucking him off, determined to bring your goal to fruition. jack watched with hungry eyes as you practically devoured him. he couldn’t help but buck his hips into your mouth. he figured it’d be no big deal—you were already so willing, right?

you took every second of it as he pounded into your throat, becoming virtually pliant around his cock. jack didn’t stop until he was spilling ropes of cum down your throat, even more blissed out as he watched you swallow it without reservation.

you pulled off his cock to look up at him, licking the last of his cum off your lips. jack smiled at you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“jesus, doll. didn’t know you guys offered that type of service. should advertise it,” jack chuckled.

“we don’t,” you giggled. “it’s only for. . .special clients.”

“oh, is that right?”

“mhm. but i’d never want it advertised,” you said. “as far as i’m concerned, i only have one special client.”

You know you’re supposed to take your meds. You’re a nurse for Christsakes. You know the importance of medication compliance and the accidental withdrawals that can occur when stopping an SSRI cold turkey, but you’ve been busy. At the end of each twelve hour shift you’re so focused on getting home and getting into bed that you’ve forgotten for the past three days to pick up the prescription and you’ve been out of it for the same number of days. The first day you were drowsy, headache, irritable, but it has progressively worsened by day three.

You’re hoping nobody notices the brain fog, the fact that for the first four hours of the shift you’ve felt like you’re trying to walk through jello. That your thoughts are hard to organize and every so often the brain zaps make you flinch. You just try to keep working, fighting through the fact that you want to crumple onto the floor. You fucking hate that you’re dependent on a pill to fix your brain chemistry to keep your brain from fighting itself and bringing in those deep lows that forced you onto the medication in the first place.

You know that this is the last day that you can pick up the meds before the pharmacy puts them back and you have to reorder. You know that any longer off of them is going to push you towards a depressive episode that can destroy the progress you’ve made since your diagnosis. If you’re not slipping into one already. The fun thing with depression is that it is a balancing act, you have to do the things that fill your cup, that make your days easier, even when your brain tells you over and over that you’re tired. That you just need to go lay down instead, avoiding your responsibilities just feels so much better than taking care of it.. And it does over and over until your life feels unmanageable. Then it takes days and sometimes help from your friends to get back to where you need to be. So yeah, you have to pick up the medication tonight. You really hate yourself for blowing off the trip to the pharmacy all last week.

What you don’t know is that Robby has noticed that something’s wrong with you. He’s seen you stop and throw back a couple tylenol and also seen you bang two energy drinks back to back in the first hour of your shift. He’s also noticed the short pauses where you flinch and then go back to what you’re doing like you’re being silently attacked. But what sealed the deal was when you came to update him on one of his patients but looked confused as you fumbled over the words you spoke as if you were fighting with your mouth to say the right thing.

“Santos,” he calls out to the resident as she sweeps by, she tops in her tracks and pivots to face him. Her dark ponytail bobs side to side.

“Yes, Dr. Robby?” he sighs and steps closer to her, bends down so the whole department doesn’t hear what he’s about to ask.

Quietly he says, “Is something wrong with Sunshine?” Santos’s thin eyebrows shoot up and she scrambles for a second to decide what to say and wonders why he’s even asking her. You’re normally glued to his side throughout the day, so the change is a shock even to her.

“Um no… I dont think so, why?” Maybe he knows something that she doesn’t. She knows that you’ve been quiet all day, but thats about it.

“Nothing,” he straightens up, pulls at each end of the stethoscope around his neck, and then he’s off towards the next resident calling his name.

The lights in the ER are killing you and you have a headache pressing down on your skull, but you’re going through the motions. Checking vitals, starting IVs, charting. You’re used to the ebb and flow of the ER enough that no one else has noticed that you’re off your game. At least, you think. There’s enough of a lull that you can catch your break, so you pop out of the ambulance bay and park yourself along the brick wall of the building. The sun feels good on your face and you hope that it will start to lift some of the heaviness. You’ve taken two rips off of your vape before a voice breaks through your moment of peace.

“You alright, sunshine?” Your eyes pop open to see Dr. Robby standing close, hands on his hips, staring down at you with those inquisitive dark eyes. Despite working side by side with him for a few years, your pulse spikes as it usually does when Robby is giving you his full attention. You push the ends of your mouth up into a tight lipped smile and hope to god that it looks believable.

“Just fine Dr. Robby,” but he can see the tiredness in your eyes and he doesn’t miss the way you shift like you’re losing balance.

“Go ahead and try that again, Sunshine. You alright?” Your tired eyes meet his dark ones that shine with concern. You school your expression and hope he takes you seriously this time.

“Fine, Dr. Robby. Tired.” His expression goes flat.

“Sunshine, I’ve seen you tired, this is more than tired. You’re on the fast track for a cardiac event between the two monsters that I saw you slam as soon as you got here, and you were sucking on that flavored air stick like it is oxygen. We’ll circle back to how bad that is for you, by the way.” He’s shifted closer to you, hands on his hips, voice starting to sound less like Dr. Robby and more like Chief Attending.

Shit, you think. You’re going to get sent home. You don’t want that. You think of the hours that you’d spend sitting in your apartment in the dark watching reruns of old sitcoms. You’re pretty sure that if it was possible you’d have melted into your couch by now. Even if you muster up the energy to get to the pharmacy to pick up your meds, you’ll just be at home with nothing to keep your mind busy, just rotting away. You’ve barely been able to sleep the past couple days, just lay there tired staring blankly at the tv.

You can’t help it, you bring the vape back up to your lips and drag in the peach berry flavor. Good old emotional support flavored air. Robby’s eye twitches. You maintain eye contact, now scared to exhale. Robby does one of those long suffering sighs of his like the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. And, in the pitt, it really does. He shouldn’t be out here with you like this. He should be keeping an eye on his department, his nurses, students, and patients. Not babysitting you while you’re dealing with the consequences of not taking your medicine.

You exhale through your nose and his eye twitches yet again at the sight of the smoke leaving your lungs. You stick the vape right back in your pocket, lest you panic and do it again.

“Robby, I swear I’m fine, just feeling a little off. Nothing I can’t handle,” You tell him, “You should go, you have a department to run. I’ll be back in, in a minute.”

Your moment is interrupted by the sound of an ambulance pulling up and coming to a stop right behind you two. You’re both moving instinctually towards the vehicle as the EMTs jump out and bring along a patient on a gurney. They rattle off the patient’s stats and you and Robby grab the side of the gurney and follow them in. Back to the shit show. As the patient is rushed into the trauma room the interns and additional nurses flock to the room, you’re able to slip away unnoticed, or so you think. The eagle eyes of the chief attending follow the messy bun on the top of your head as you slip back into the bustle of the ER.

Hour seven of your shift creeps up, you still have a headache, but you think the brain zaps might have subsided. Dana loops her arm through yours and swings you around into her station on your way by her. “Wanna tell me why Robby is watching you like a hawk?” She cocks an eyebrow.

“I dunno,” You feign ignorance, “Do I have something on my face?” She smirks and rolls her eyes.

“Alright, Sunshine, I’ll act like I believe you don’t know something,” then she grabs your hand and slips a couple more tylenol into your palm, “Pick up your meds when you get off. You know why you feel like shit.” You give her a small smile. There’s nothing that gets past Dana. It helps that she’s the only one in the department that knows about the medication. No one would judge you, you know that, but you don’t want to wear your diagnosis like a nametag, so you keep it to yourself. Dana only knows because the pills fell out of your locker one day. You quit keeping them in your bag after that.

Hour seven is usually when you start to drag, so you head to the breakroom to grab your last energy drink that you stashed when you came in. Your fingers close around the cool metal of the can in the fridge, when Robby’s voice cuts through the quiet and scares you back into standing. “Dr. Robby,” You crack the can and take a sip of your favorite energy drink flavor.

“Still hoping for that cardiac event are we?” You shrug.

“Isn’t even the most I’ve had in a day, Dr. Robby. This is just my baseline,” you take another sip and force yourself to meet his too perceptive eyes. He gives you a look like you’re killing him, but you just tip your lips up in a smile hoping that deflects enough to make it through the next five hours. Then you can pick up your meds and bed rot. The fog is killing you, making you feel like it's pushing you into the floor. You wish you could just sleep for hours, days, the depression saps the energy making you feel tired to the bone. You drink more of the energy drink hoping it will stave off the feeling. You think you might be able to fit one more in before the end of your shift, if you really have to

“Killin me, Sunshine,” he smiles despite the worry. He crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels, head tiled to the side. His way of trying to get you to talk to him. He can tell you’re tired, but there's a bit of something else there that has him worried. “At least you’ve put the flavored air away for now.” You give a slow smile at the joke. He worries more, it's not like you. You’re about two seconds behind every reaction you give. After Langdon, it pushes him to worry more.

It’s not that Robby picks favorites, per se, but there are people that he notices more than others. You’re one of them. He thinks that you’re funny, always positive, like a ray of sunshine, hence the affectionate nickname that the whole department gave you. The one Robby may or may not have given you first. He’s seen you work a double with a smile that never leaves your face. You settle even the most agitated patients by disarming them with that smile. He can pinpoint your laugh across the ER. He knows you’ve walked onto the floor by the sing song hellos you give to the staff and patients as you wind your way through the pitt. It takes the pressure off of his shoulders for that first minute he hears you. You would never know this, but when he’s having a particularly tough day, he tries to focus in on your voice or your laugh, just to bring himself back to the moment.

He hasn’t seen your real smile all day. Hasn’t heard that laugh of yours. You didn’t do a round of hellos this morning. He doesn’t like it. Somehow it is adding to his usual stress. He doesn’t get more time to think about it because McKay pops her head in and pulls him away. You don’t smile as he walks out, you just tip the energy drink back and try to get some more caffeine in your veins to finish the day. He really doesn’t like that.

The next time he sees you is when he steps out of trauma two, and he doesn’t like what he sees. A guy he doesn’t recognize strides in through the ambulance bay doors. You're at the desk with Dana, but you tense when you see him step in. You borderline run to the guy and it’s the fastest Robby’s seen you move outside of a trauma today. Robby can only see your profile, but the look on your face is something he has never seen before. Instant irritation, you’re speaking low and angrily at the man who shoves a brown bag straight into your chest and spits some words at you. You catch the bag then wrap your hand around his forearm and yank him with you outside the doors. Robby makes eye contact with Dana who juts her head in that direction silently telling him to follow as if his feet weren’t taking him there the moment the bag made contact with your chest.

Robby doesn’t know the guy but he looks every bit like a fucking douchebag. Guys hair is perfectly coifed, he's wearing jeans that cost as much as you probably make in a day, brand new leather jacket. You look fucking pissed as you go back and forth with the guy. Robby’s never seen this and he has no idea what to make of you being angry. He didn’t even know that it was an emotion you could express. He slows a bit when he sees that you’re not in active danger.

“Keep your fucking voice down,” you seethe at the guy whos waiving his hands at you and yelling back animatedly. You’re fucking lucky an ambulance hasn’t pulled up. The EMTs know you well, and they wouldn’t hesitate to come check on you.

“It’s not like I fucking wanted to come here, but your friends wouldn’t stop blowing me up. They said you haven't texted them in days. You think I wanted to bring your meds all the way to this fucking shit hole? I have other shit to do,” the guy rolls his eyes.

“Just get the fuck out of here. I don’t want you here, and you didn’t need to bring these here.”

“You know just as well as I do that I had to, and honestly you should be fucking thanking me. You were going to be a mess for the next few fucking weeks if you didn’t get these. Don’t think I don’t know you, don’t think I didn’t fucking live through this with you. Do you know what it’s like to live with someone who’s basically comatose, doesn’t have the fucking energy to shower, cook, clean, fucking function,” Your body language is starting to shrink, Robby watches you curl into yourself, “I had to bring you these because I fucking know how you are and they reached out. What does that make me look like if I didn’t? If your friends knew that I didn’t help you.” Your head shoots up at the last line, sense of anger renewed.

“You know what Tyler, I didn’t fucking ask for your help, didn’t ask for their help, and most of all I don’t fucking care what they think of you. I know that you want me to thank you for being the fucking hero, but here’s the fucking deal. You’re no hero if you’re fucking doing it just to look like the good guy.”

“I’d rather be me than someone who got so depressed she almost failed out of nursing school because she was too fucking lazy to do something about being depressed and get herself out of bed.” You flinch.

“Just fucking go Tyler, fuck,” You throw the bag on the ground and cover your face with your hands.

“Look at yourself, I can tell it's already starting, I’m betting you’ve been off them for a few days. Your hair’s a mess, you don’t have your makeup on, and I’m almost certain that you haven’t taken a shower in two days. What kind of nurse are you if you can’t even bring yourself to do basic grooming and hygiene,” Tyler chuckles, “This is why we didn’t fucking work out. Why I had to break up with you.”

Robby’s done watching, he approaches, “I don’t know who the fuck you are but if you’re not a patient or healthcare worker I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.” You turn to stone at the attending’s voice. Fuck fuck fuck what is he going to think of you now? God you hate yourself, you hate Tyler, and you fucking hate the pills that are rattling in the bottle at your feet when you shift and nudge them with your shoe. Your hands are still covering your face. You hear Tyler huff.

“And who the fuck are you?” Tyler asks petulantly sizing Robby up, the corner of Robby’s mouth turns up. He’s got a lot of height on this scrawny kid. Fuck you do not want him starting a fight with Robby, it would be the cherry on top of a shit sundae and you know it.

“This is my ER, my ambulance bay, my nurse. I’m Dr. Michael Robinavitch, who the fuck are you?” he says in that sarcastic tone he can take on. Tyler scoffs in disbelief, rolls his eyes. Behind your hands you squeeze your eyes tight and hold your breath, willing him not to do something stupid.

“Whatever man,” he kicks the bag at your feet and you flinch, “Text your fucking friends back and tell them to never call me again.” Then he turns on his heel and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Robby turns to you, your hands are still covering your face and all you want is to dissolve into a fucking puddle at your feet. This is mortifying. Tyler showing up at your job and picking at every single one of your insecurities, bearing them to the one attending you’d never want to see your flaws. “Sunshine?” he asks quietly, you’re still not moving your hands, “Talk to me please?” He wraps his hands around your wrists. His voice is too soft, too caring. You can’t fucking look at him now or you’ll lose it. No one in the Pitt has ever seen you cry and you’re trying desperately to keep it that way.

“Dr. Robinavitch can you please just go inside and pretend you didn’t see this. Please?” Your voice sounds so small and half hysterical like you’re on the brink of melting down. Robby knows that tone well, he’s been in your shoes many times. Maybe you’re more alike than he originally thought. Slowly, he removes your hands from your eyes to assess you. Your eyes are glassy and pink around the rims. Your breathing is starting to become shallow. “Dr. Robinavitch please,” you say quietly. He’s still holding onto your wrists as he bends closer to look you in the eyes.

“Please tell me how to help you Sunshine,” he says gently, like you’ll take off running if he’s not there to hold you safely in place. You turn your head to the side unable to handle the concern in Robby’s deep brown eyes. That concern is for patients, his students, interns, residents, not for you, never for you, you think to yourself. You're the one that stands by his side in the trauma room, anticipating his needs. Waiting with what he’s about to ask for before he even asks. You’re supposed to be a part of the team. You’re wasting valuable time that he needs to be spending on the ER floor. Instead he’s out here with you and you’re barely holding it together. Inside, there’s people experiencing the worst days of their lives and you’re keeping their lifeline out here with you and your bullshit.

“It would help me if you returned to your patients and let me collect myself. I will be back in shortly.” You sound detached, Robby hates it, but you’re doing it to keep embarrassment from swallowing you whole. Of course this would happen in front of Robby. Change his perception of you forever. Your cheeks burn in shame.

You’d done so good, you knew that you had done so good at keeping up your image here. Being as positive as possible, ensuring that no one felt the same way as Tyler. You kept yourself from being cynical, tried to be nice to everyone, just for it all to shatter into pieces thanks to the bottles of pills at your feet.

“I really really don’t want to leave you out here,” he says. You reach in your pocket for the vape you have stashed.

“Give me five seconds Dr. Robinavitch. I’ll be fine. I need to regulate. Please,” The only reason Robby decides to go back inside is because he can hear himself in your voice, those moments where the Pitt is so overwhelming that it feels crushing. Where his head is so fucking loud that there’s no way to escape it. He bends down to grab the bag at your feet. Your voice breaks, “Don’t..” you gasp like you’re holding a sob, “Please don’t touch those Dr. Robinavitch.” Robby never hated hearing his last name this much. You never address him by anything other than Robby. It feels like you’re creating distance and he hates it. Hates everything about this day so far if he’s being honest with himself.

He straightens up, lets go of your wrists and presses his hands down firmly on your shoulders. “Five minutes Sunshine, or I’m coming back out.” He takes a step, then turns back, “I better never see that guy here again.” All he gets is a teary sounding chuckle, nothing like the sound of your normal laugh.

“Fucking same,” you sigh. Right before he turns Robby sees you turn to watch him go, there’s tears on your cheeks and for a second he wants so badly to wipe them away.

Dana’s waiting for him with a raised eyebrow when he walks back in, he stops by the hub and leans on the counter. “Met the ex fiancé did you?” She asks knowingly. Robby’s stomach plummets, fiancé? You’d been engaged to that asshole. Dana keeps her eye on Robby watching him digest the information. She has an inkling that Robby has an interest in you, deeper than a doctor's interest in one of his nurses. Robby’s face darkens after a couple seconds and he starts stomping towards trauma two after Santos calls to him.

It’s the last hour of the shift and you’re still a hollow shell of yourself. Robby had it with your blank stares and small voice. Where is Sunshine? He wonders how long you’ve been keeping up this facade for it to finally slip today. If there’s anything that Robby knows it’s overwhelm. That’s what he saw outside in that rare moment of vulnerability. He thinks he knows what was in that bag but he would never ask you directly. When your voice started to break when you asked him not to touch them a piece of Robby cracked too. He didn’t know, didn’t realize just how much you had become a part of his days.

Robby’s running a code when you’re finally by his side for the first time all day. You’d been skillfully avoiding him every second of the rest of the shift, somehow whenever he came near you suddenly a patient needed your attention or something needed stocked. Dana had been watching him try to interact with a smirk all afternoon and into the evening. He’s watching you do compressions while listening to his interns and residents sound off on the patient's status. Around you meds are being pushed, Robby calls to hold compressions, the patient is flat lining and it’s a fine line, they don’t know how long the person has been down, don’t know if there’s even a chance of getting the man on the gurney back. The patient is shocked, no change, you resume compressions, more epi is pushed, more compressions. Robby’s watching how disconnected you look. He tells you to stop compressions and in the mess of the trauma room he calls time of death. You step down wrung out from cpr, the day, all the bullshit you’ve been mentally preparing to do when you get home. You race out of the room, fully aware that it’s shitty to leave everyone behind.

“Sunshine,” Dana calls as you rush past her, you turn on your heel, “there’s only an hour left of the shift. We’ve got it from here. Go home.” She sees your body slump in relief. “You did good today kid,” she smiles and you resume your fast walk to go grab all of your things and head out. In the bustle of shift change it’s easy for you to slip out unnoticed.

Robby’s finishing handoff with Jack when he looks around the Pitt and then at Dana, “Where’s sunshine?” She fixes him with a knowing look.

“Sent her home already, she needed to rest.”

“Fuck,” Robby breathes ignoring the fact that Jack is now giving him the same look as Dana. “I just wanted to check on her again.” He tells them defensively.

“Something wrong with Sunshine?” Abbot asks.

Santos looks up from the computer she’s charting at, “That was not Sunshine today, that was Gloomy. It was bound to happen,” she says matter of factly, “No one can be as positive as she is all the time. Especially not here,” she tacks on as an afterthought.

Jack hums like he knows something. Robby’s eyes narrow. Jack ignores the look at turns on his heel, faking like he’s going to go check on his residents. Robby’s not letting him off the hook though, he follows close and asks in a low voice, “Jack, what do you know?” Why do you know it? He wants to ask his best friend, Jack is staring back at him like he knows what Robby’s thinking.

“You know Sunshine started on the night shift right?” Robby nods.

“You have me to thank for the reason you have her on days,” Jack says, “I suggested days might be better for her, got her a spot. You’re more alike than you think Robby.” Then he struts off leaving Robby with that thought.

Robby grabs his keys and backpack as quickly as possible and takes off towards the physicians parking lot. He would never admit this, but he knows exactly which way through the park you head on your way home. His backpack gets thrown in the backseat of his truck and he peels out of the lot before he lets himself think any further. He makes it to the edge of the park where you exit, and rolls down his window. You’re staring down with headphones in, can’t hear him when he calls out for you. He curses and throws the truck in park, doesn’t bother to shut it off.

You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice that he’s in front of you until you run straight into him. A yelp escapes you as you jump back and then look up to meet the chocolate eyes of the attending. “Robby,” you breathe pulling out one of your headphone, “What are you doing here?” It’s freezing and you don’t even have a coat on is all Robby can think as he looks down at you.

“Giving you a ride home,” he says matter of factly.

“You dont–”

“I know,” is all he says before wrapping a long arm around your shoulders and leading you to the truck.

“Dr. Robinavitch,” You try again as he opens the passenger door. He shakes his head and guides you into the truck.

“You can get in or I’m putting you in myself,” you balk and he reaches for your waist to lift you, but you scramble up into the seat before he makes contact, “Good,” he grabs the seatbelt and buckles you in. For the few seconds it takes for him to walk to the drivers seat all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your body. What the hell is he doing? You wonder to yourself.

Once he’s in the truck and buckled in himself, he looks to you and hands you his unlocked phone, “Two things, first pull up directions to your place, and second put your number in.”

“Dr. Robinavitch,” You try, “This isn’t professional.” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“We are well past professional, Sunshine. Do as I say,” the commanding tone of his voice has you complying quickly. The GPS starts narrating the path to your home and you enter in your number and save it under your name, putting ER nurse behind it as an afterthought. Like maybe he would need a reminder of who you are. His lips twitch when he looks at the contact after you hand the phone back. He’ll be changing your name to Sunshine as soon as he has a second.

The rest of the drive to your home is silent, the only thing you can do is sit and soak in the warmth of Robby’s presence, mixed with the slight feeling of dread. You have no idea what he’s doing here. He pulls up in front of your building, parallel parking like he has decades of experience. “Let’s go,” is all he says as he exits the vehicle, but you’re frozen in shock. He opens your door and leans over to unbuckle you, then grabs your hand to lead you out of the truck.

Once your feet hit the pavement its like you remember how to be a person. He follows you close as you hit the pin to get into the building. You think thats it and he’ll turn around, but he continues to follow you up to your door, calmly waiting for you to fumble with your keys and get your door unlocked. You turn and tilt your head up to look at him, “Thanks for the ride,” you mumble clutching the stupid fucking bag of meds to your chest. You’d felt so shitty this morning that you hadn’t even grabbed your usual bag, just stuck your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones in your pockets and hurried out the door because you couldn’t get yourself out of bed until the last possible second. Robby shakes his head.

“We’re not done Sunshine,” is all he says, “Lets go inside.”

“Dr. Robinavitch,” he shakes his head to cut you off, laughing despite himself.

“Do not call me that, Sunshine. It’s Robby or Michael to you, that's it. Now come on, open the door.” There’s nothing you can do but follow the order. You let him into your small apartment and he greedily takes in every single detail. It’s cozy, and it is obvious that you prefer dim lighting, there’s multiple lamps putting out soft light and bookshelves lined against the far wall boxing in the window. He can see a mix of well loved books with cracked spines and knick knacks, you have christmas lights strung along the top adding to the ambiance of the room. Your couch is plush and velvet, covered in a mix of soft blankets. You gesture for him to take a seat, unsure what to do with the large man suddenly in your space.

“Can I get you anything?” your manners suddenly kick in, “I don’t have a lot of options but I’ve got water, beer…” you trail off busying yourself with opening the small fridge and rummaging through like the two options aren’t sitting blatantly in front of your face. Robby takes that time to really look around the space. There’s food containers and energy drink cans laying around, laundry cluttering the floors like you’ve been walking from the bedroom undressing and redressing in the mornings. He forces his thoughts away from that.

“I don’t need anything sweetheart. I need you to come over here and talk to me.” head down, you round the island that separates the living room from the kitchen. You throw the bag of your stupid meds down on the coffee table and take a seat on the other end of your couch, head down, hands folded neatly in your lap. He turns to face you, “What happened today?” Your hands twitch and you look up carefully to catch his eyes just for a second before your gaze falls back to your lap.

“Nothing Dr. Robby. I’m just tired is all. You really didn’t need to do this or worry. I’ll be back to normal by my next shift,” You tell him.

“Who was the guy that came in?”

Fuck you do not want to talk to him about this, you think internally, “That’s just Tyler, he had to drop something off to me is all.”

“Is it that easy for you to lie to me?” Robby asks, tired of not having your eyes he reaches out on takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eye, “I heard what happened out there,” he tells you softly. Your expression crumbles and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry Dr. Robby, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you try to explain, “I just–” you don’t even know how to finish that sentence.

“Just what sweetheart?” he scootches closer, but doesn’t let go of your chin. He’s not going another second without having your eyes on him. “Just what?” he repeats watching the first tear cascade down your cheek. He moves his thumb to catch it.

“I didn’t know he would come there,” you sigh, “I’m…” you pause. You really don’t want to say the next part, “I’m just having a hard time is all,” your voice breaks on the word time, “It’s stupid. I promise that I’m fine. That I’ll be back to normal.” More tears start to come. He uses both thumbs to wipe them away this time, cupping your face. You’re opening up to him and he’s going to keep it that way. He keeps your gaze until you go on, “I take um… medicine to stay… level,” its the only word that you can think to use. “I kept getting out too late to get to the pharmacy and I ran out. It’s my own fault really, I know what I’m supposed to do. It’s like you miss one day and then all of a sudden you have a headache and you just want to lay in bed, and so you do, and then its another day of not getting them, and the headache stays, the tiredness stays, and then you get the brain zaps.” You pause watching his eyes fill with understanding. “And even though I have them now, it will be a little bit before I’m good again, and when I get there, I’ll have to take care of everything that I let slip when I was low. It’s just this feeling of dread, you know?” He nods because he does know. “Sometimes its more comfortable to just sit in the low. Stay there until it becomes critical and you have to force yourself out, or someone else forces you out. I guess I’m getting forced out quicker than I thought.” Before Robby has a second to think about it, he leans forward and drops a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll get you out of it, Sunshine.” he says against your hair, then wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, something he knows will help. He wonders if you ever get any real physical touch in a day. He knows at work when you’re feeling good that you’re a hugger, but you haven’t been that person in a few days. He’s irritated that he didn’t notice it sooner, but you did good the first couple days of hiding it. You’re really crying now, he can feel the warmth of your tears on his chest soaking his t-shirt, “Everything’s okay now,” he whispers, “We’ll take care of it.” It takes a few moments for the tears to subside and you lean back looking up at him suddenly shy.

“I’m sorry Robby.” He shakes his head assuring you that there’s nothing to be sorry about. Without thinking about it, he runs his hand along the side of your face, and digs his finger tips into your hair smiling when you lean into the touch.

“What can I do to help you?” he asks, “Don’t tell me nothing. Tell me what helps.” You sniffle and tear up again.

“Why are you so nice?” he gives a self deprecating smile.

“Because its you. Because you keep me sane on every single shift, because I like you… a lot. Because you work so hard and care so much. Because you’re a bright spot in my day even when things feel dark.” You shake your head, “I mean it,” he says, “You’re the first person I look for when I walk into work, and you’re usually the last person I see before I leave. I’m always looking for you.” Something inside you warms. “Now, tell me what helps you in a low, so I can get you back.” You’re still leaning into his hand.

“Um… usually the first thing is I need to shower, then I’ll try to pick up as much as possible, remove the clutter so I can think. Robby’s nodding, “I’ll start laundry so I have fresh clean clothes in the morning. Pack my lunch. The key for me is staying prepared because it’s so much easier to avoid the things that I need to do than it is to do them sometimes. I have to prepare for the next day as much as possible to stay on top of it.”

“Okay,” he says softly, “What about food?” you sigh.

“I don’t think I have anything. I was too tired to go to the store.” he nods again like its just another problem that he can solve for you, and it is. He’s already making a task list in his head of things to get you settled like it’s second nature to him. “Usually I just get stuff thats easy to throw in a lunch bag, sandwich stuff, chips, crackers. Same for when I’m home, frozen meals, chef boy ar dee, kraft mac and cheese.” His lips twitch at that.

“Okay,” he stands, holding out a hand for you, and pulling you up with him. His arm is around you again, guiding you to your bedroom which has been untouched through this whole episode. It’s much easier for you to avoid the bedroom when you’re like this. You can’t explain it, but sleeping in the living room with the TV on lends itself to more comfort for you than the bed. The last two nights you’ve slept out there in your scrubs, too tired to force yourself through the motions of getting ready. So, your bed is still made, but your clothes in the dresser are all mixed up like you just rifled through to get what you need and didn’t straighten anything back up, Robby pushes you towards the dresser, “Pick out your pajamas.” Somehow its easier with him giving you the instructions. You grab a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, fresh underwear. Robby nods, then leads you out of the room, “Bathroom?” You point towards it and he opens the door and guides you in. “Alright, take a shower and when you’re done I’ll be out there. Okay? Take as long as you need to feel better. Don’t rush just because I’m here. Do every step to feel as good as possible.” You’re tearing up again, so he pulls you to his chest. You can feel his necklace on his chest through the t-shirt he’s wearing. “Everything is okay,” he tells you, squeezing you tightly. You feel him ghost another kiss on your head. You’re so tired that you don’t even have the energy to think about what all of this means. Robby lets you go and pulls back the shower curtain to turn the water on for you, pulls a towel from the small linen closet in the bathroom. He sets it on the vanity with your clothes before he steps out.

You’re left there in complete silence and you hate it, so you slip out of your clothes and get yourself into the shower so you don’t have to think of anything other than the steps. Your limbs feel heavy but you force yourself to follow Robby’s instructions. You double cleanse your hair, making sure to get the dry shampoo build up out of your hair. Then you put in a hair mask and tie your hair back up to get to work on your body. You take your time like he said, first washing, using a vanilla smelling sugar scrub that Lena got you for your birthday, and then shaving. Finally, you rinse out the mask and condition your hair.

You’re so tempted to skip the next steps of your routine, but you need to do what Robby said. You turn off the water and step out. You go through the motions of drying yourself, rubbing lotion into your skin, and putting on deodorant. You start on the steps of your skincare routine. Next is your haircare routine, you put in the leave-in conditioner and run the brush through the tangles that had nestled into your hair thanks to the 3 day old bun, then some styling cream. Blowdrying your hair takes the longest, but you use your brush to blowdry your hair smooth, knowing that it will help you the next day. And Robby won’t see you looking like a wet rat also helps.

By the time you step out into your small living room, some of the weight has lifted, but not all of it. Robby is standing in your kitchen with take out boxes from your favorite restaurant. “Robby?” He meets your eyes and a smile splits his features, you soak in the crinkles around his eyes and the flash of his teeth against the scruff of his facial hair. “What is all this?”

“Food, Sunshine. You’ve heard of it?” You roll your eyes, starting to feel human. He sets down a bottle of water and your pills in front of you. “Take these, and I’ll fix you a plate.” You look over the food.

“Um, Robby, this place doesn’t deliver, how’d you get this here?” You were in there awhile, but not long enough that he could have went there to get it and back. He smiles like he has his own secret.

“They deliver for me,” is all he says cryptically. You take the pills like instructed and then look around. Somehow he’d already straightened up your small space. The trash is gone, clothes picked up, presumably in your hamper. You can hear the laundry going in the small laundry room off of the kitchen. Your dishwasher is also running. The level of care hits you all at once and your eyes are shining again.

“Michael,” You say tentatively, you’ve never called him by his first name, “You really didn’t have to do all of this.” He comes closer with the plate of food and wraps his arm around you again.

“I’m guessing by your lack of a dining table that you eat on the couch, sit, and find something to watch.” He hands you the plate and the remote, unfolds one of the blankets that he undoubtedly folded while you were in the shower, and drapes it over your legs. After making himself a plate he comes back to take a seat next to you, you’re scrolling aimlessly through the different streaming services. After you’ve switched streaming apps three times, Robby looks at you out of the corner of his eye, “Gonna pick something?” You look at him sheepishly.

“I have no idea what to watch,” he shrugs.

“I think anything is good Sunshine, I’m probably not going to be paying attention to it anyway, he winks. Your cheeks burn with a blush and you roll your eyes. Then a show catches your eye and you pick it.

“Really?” he asks as ER starts to play. You shrug with a small smile.

“Fitting isn’t it?” He just smiles and shakes his head while you both tuck into your food. Things are starting to feel lighter already.

One episode of ER later, more like one episode of Robby correcting all of the inaccuracies later, youve had enough of just watching him out of the corner of your eye and wondering. “Micheal?” His head turns to you, warmth flooding his chest at his first name coming from your lips. “Why did you really do all of this?” You ask. No one goes out of their way like this for a coworker. Even someone as good as Robby. You’ve never interacted outside of the hospital, and somehow he has come into your home and seen every intimate detail of your life. He even put your underwear in the laundry, but you refuse to think about that any further.

“I told you sweetheart. I like you.”

“Liking someone doesn’t mean that you come to their house and act as their maid service because they’re too lazy to pick up their meds.” He just sighs, standing up and taking both of your plates to the sink. Once they’re out of the way he comes back to the couch and sits, this time much much closer. He takes your face in both of his hands, pulling it close to his.

“I thought we covered this already, Sunshine. I like you a lot. I was really fucking worried about you today. I’m not really sure what I would do without you. Outside of Jack and Dana, I don’t think that there’s anyone else that knows me like you do, and like we covered earlier, you’re the brightest part of my day. I can’t have that going away.” He touches his forehead to yours.

“Michael…” you say his name carefully because this moment feels like it could slip away, “What do you mean by that?”

“It means that I want more of you, if you’ll give it to me,” he brings his lips a hair away from yours, “It means that I’m going to kiss you now, hold you while we watch this entirely inaccurate doctor show, and then tuck you in.” Your pulse spikes dramatically, “After that, I’ll be here in the morning to pick you up for your shift, bring you home after, rinse and repeat. Okay Sunshine?”

You’re confident that you’ve gone into cardiac arrest, or that you’re vividly hallucinating. You don’t break eye contact with Robby, but you do lift your arm and pinch. Hard. You gasp quietly at the sensation and Robby chuckles at your antics, “I’m waiting Sunshine.”

“Steve..” You mumble, only turning your head slightly as you’re still trying to follow the plot of the movie that’s playing. The reason why you’re actually here. 

Your birthday. Steve had planned it all. First, dinner with Robin, Jonathan and Nancy where you had ordered cake and champagne, the whole shebang. Steve didn’t know any limits when it came to spoiling you. And afterwards he had taken you to the drive-in movie theatre for some quality time for just the two of you. 

His fingers tighten a little on your skin as he only hums out a little “M not doin’ anythin’” but you can hear the humour in his voice, this man knows exactly what he’s doing and as you now fully give in and turn your attention to him, sure enough there’s a self assured little smirk on Steve’s face. 

“Stevie” you warn, in a less than threatening voice “I thought you wanted us to watch this” 

His eyes lock onto yours and his smirk widens before a breathless laugh escapes him “I did. I do” and as if on cue he leans in again and kisses your cheek, lingering a bit longer for good measure. He knows you can’t be mad at him if all he does is love on you. 

But you’re not even trying to go back to the movie, now you’re curious how far Steve might take this before he has to come clean and admit to his constant teasing and distracting. 

You tilt your body slightly in his direction which makes his big hand on your leg nudge even closer to your centre and it makes him look at you, eyes widening a tiny bit. You give him a little smile, playful, almost challenging, you want to see what he will do next. You’re not breaking eye-contact with him and soon enough, his warm hand leaves the comfort between your thighs and is slowly wandering over to your side, squeezing your hip once before Steve is moving your whole body forward and closer to his own. The simple yet very effective motion pulls a little gasp from you before you realise how close you are to him now. Basically face to face, noses almost touching if you’d lean in just a little bit more. 

“You wanna tell me again how much you like this movie?” His voice has now lowered an octave and instead of the previous banter, there’s something darker there now, more urgent. “Must be real interesting if you keep lookin over at me” he continues, and now you can feel the hand that was previously on your headrest, almost forgotten, creep into your hair as it makes contact with the side of your head. He’s tilting your face further towards him so you’re forced to meet his eyes, but before he can give another teasing remark, you decide to finally make a move and nuzzle your nose into his, and then nip his bottom lip with your own. You can feel him take in a shuddering breath, not so cool and unaffected by your ministrations as he’s trying to be. But all you really care about now is the man of your dreams in front of you and feeling his plush lips against your own, so you finally connect your lips all the way and let yourself sink into this moment. 

You love spending time with Steve, being silly, having adventures, or simply doing the most mundane tasks together. But one thing you love most is kissing him, feeling your bodies sync together, being intimate with Steve and putting all of your love for each other into one heightened experience. 

“Bab-y..wha…” He tries to mumble out in between kisses but you’re driven by a new found urgency now, needing him as close as possible, so you’re gently urging your tongue against his lips until he lets you in. What started as a still innocent little  caress has now turned into passionate, almost sloppy kisses that neither of you want to stop. 

But you’re technically still in public, even within the comfort of Steve’s car, people parked close to you would have no problem to look over and inside, seeing what you two are getting up to. And right before you’re able to throw your leg over the annoying middle console that’s in the way to climb onto Steve’s lap, he gains some of his senses back and gently stops you with a hand to your knee.

“Hang on sweetheart” he breathes and pulls away from your mouth. The action takes you off guard and you’re trying to pull him back in with the hand that had made its way into his soft locks at some point during your make-out, but he turns his face to nuzzle into your cheek instead “Fuck….there’s too many people here” you hear the smile in his voice and it makes you groan as you burry your face into his neck. As much as you hate to admit, Steve’s got a point. You don’t want to spend the rest of your birthday being shamed and laughed at for public indecency.

“We could climb into the backseat. More privacy back there” you say it so casually that Steve let’s out a surprised laugh before squeezing your curves affectionately 

“No baby, that’s too risky. And uncomfortable, remember?”. 

Your only response is a little whine as you finally look back up at him. You love looking at Steve up close like this, you get to admire the cute little freckles adorning his face, the little bit of facial hair around his mouth, and his big eyes that always look at you with such a warmth in them that could make you melt on the spot. So you gently take his handsome face back into your hands, place the softest of pecks onto both cheeks, the side of his nose and finally on his forehead before almost whispering your next words, trying not to disturb this delicate moment between you 

“You wanna take me home instead Stevie? Where we can have all the privacy in the world?” And he has to close his eyes for just a moment to collect his thoughts. He would genuinely go to the ends of the earth for you if you’d ask him, so going home before the movie night he had planned even ends is the easiest decision for him to make

“Yeah sweet girl, lemme take you home” now it’s his turn to leave a barely there kiss on the side of your mouth before he gently manoeuvres you back into your seat so he can start the car and make the short trip back to your place.

“I’ll show you how you deserve to end your birthday festivities properly” and his final statement sends a new flutter through your body as Steve stirs the car onto the road and grabs ahold of your hand, not letting go of his precious girl until you’re back home for more.