Spider-Starry’s Favorite Fics!

The sabbatical was supposed to be three months, but somewhere around Bar Harbor Robby decided he needed more time. For what he wasn’t sure. But he knew he needed to stay far, far away from the Pitt for a little longer. With his position at the hospital safe, he stayed in New England through the end of the summer.

On his first day back, he’d been gone as long as the two of you were together. Six months. Six months without text messages or phone calls or, hell, postcards. Six months of feeling like Robby was a ghost in your life, something you had and lost that lingers around every corner. Six months of rebuilding your life after he disappeared from it.

You found out about Robby’s sabbatical the same way everyone else did, during one of his evening speeches exactly two weeks before he was scheduled to leave. Two weeks’ notice for a relationship you’d honestly believed was headed toward an engagement ring in a few months. He didn’t think to ask you, didn’t think to check in, didn’t even bother to tell you in the privacy of the home you’d basically moved into. Your life fell into brutal clarity in that moment: Robby was a huge part of your life, but you were a footnote in his.

He sent you a text five nights ago: Back in town. When can I see you?

You didn’t answer.

You don’t plan to.

The morning of September first, Jack hands off shift change seamlessly, like Robby had never left, and Robby finds his footing on the ED floor with a newness, a fluidity, a casual lightness on his shoulders that strikes everyone as foreign. A version of Robby with no tension in his shoulders and no sarcasm biting at his tongue might as well be a new doctor.

Once he has the ED machine churning on pace, Robby leans his elbows on the nurse’s station and scans the shift board. “And where’s my favorite nurse this morning? Night shift?”

Dana barely spares him a glance as she processes the last of a stack of paperwork. She’d always disapproved of Robby pursuing you, so she’s not exactly sympathetic when she tells him, “She transferred months ago. I’m sure the notice is in your email inbox if you ever get around to clearing that out.”

His mind spins at the idea of the Pitt without you – your steady hands, your shy smiles, your forgiving wit. “Transferred? Where? Why?”

“Not my business,” Dana replies with a shrug. She pushes a chart into his chest and says, “They need you in exam six.”

As Robby takes the chart and looks over it with blank eyes that don’t see a word, Princess stands up on her toes so she can meet Robby’s eyes. With a knowing but curious gaze, she tells him quietly, “She’s working at the hospital’s satellite methadone clinic up the street now. Rumor is that she had an ugly breakup with someone at the hospital and wanted to get some distance.”

Robby sucks in a sharp breath. Holds it. Lets it out slow. His eyes focus to actually look at the chart and he mutters out, “Thanks for the info.”

She adds, “Smart money’s on Frank, by the way, since they were always so close.”

Robby grits his teeth. “They weren’t that close.”

“Whatever you say, cap.”

The biggest thing Robby notices in his shift once he’s working closely with his doctors again is a change in the batch of residents he helped onboard last year. They’ve gained confidence during his absence, which he’d expected, but there’s something else. To put it briefly, there’s a lot of scowling and it’s definitely in his direction. Even Whitaker, who used to glance up for his praise like a puppy, is now averting his eyes and keeping his sentences short, professional, unsmiling. The newest batch of students and interns is all polite deference and eager introductions, but the ones he’d come to know and care for and consider friends are acting like he stinks of BO and betrayal.

In the locker room preparing for his lunch break, he approaches Dana, trying to be casual about his tone, and asks, “What’s wrong with the kids, by the way? I have a sign that says ‘ignore me’ on my back or something I didn’t notice?”

She snickers, “Maybe they’re just mad that daddy went to the gas station for milk and didn’t come back for six months.” She gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and adds, “Give them some time; it’ll take a minute for people to find their rhythm around you again.”

He nods slowly and swallows, hoping that’s all this is. “Right, sure.”

The truth doesn’t even occur to him: You had been their favorite person around the hospital, his abandonment had made you leave, and they aren’t quite ready to forgive him for that.

—

It’s almost your lunch break when a whole flood of people arrives at once. You’re behind the check-in desk today and you can’t help groaning to yourself. You have to pee, your stomach has been growling non-stop for an hour, and you’re desperate to put your feet up.

You’re on autopilot as you check in patients, collect consent forms, and support doctors however you can without getting up from the desk. You’d started modified work duty this month and it’s driving you nuts not being able to do the hands-on clinical work you love. With your eyes on your monitor, the next patient enters your peripheral vision and you tell him, “I’ll be with you in just one moment.”

“No worries, gorgeous.”

Your focus snaps.

Anger rises up like bile in your throat. Part of you wants to cry, part wants to run, part wants to scream. Ultimately, with so many wars raging inside of your body, your expression goes flat as you meet Robby’s eyes. “You pick up an opioid habit while you were screwing your way up and down the eastern seaboard?”

Robby almost laughs. Almost. He hadn’t expected you to act so hostile – in his mind, you’re still the woman he loves, waiting patiently for his return home – and it pinches like frostbite. Voice soft and respectful, he offers, “I just wanted to stop by and see you.”

You set your jaw and cut back, “Well I didn’t want to see you, but I forgot that my opinion doesn’t affect your decisions.”

He sighs. “You’re still mad at me.”

You turn back to your computer and finish up the file you need to before lunch. “‘Still’ implies that eventually I’ll stop, which won’t be happening.”

“C’mon sweetheart, you can’t-”

“Don’t.” Your eyes flick up as you shake your head. “Just- just don’t.” After closing out your computer and sighing heavily, you tell him bluntly, “You’re officially eating into my lunch, so I’m gonna ask you to leave or I can get security. I’m happy either way.”

Robby presses, “Let me at least buy you lunch.”

You extend your hand and reply without emotion, “Sure, give me $20 and I’ll happily spend it.”

Robby grits his teeth and digs his heels in. “Please.”

Anxiety sparks in your chest as you realize he really isn’t going to leave without talking to you alone first. You’re going to have to stand up from behind the safety of the tall desk and half wall right in front of him. The moment was inevitable, but you’d hoped to at least be in control of it.

“Fine. Buy me lunch.” You’re almost laughing as you mutter, “Let’s see how this goes. Might as well do it in public.”

Then you get to your feet. You stretch your arms above your head, back tight from sitting all morning, and your navy scrub top rides up slightly.

Robby’s next words are breathless and desperate. “You’re pregnant.”

“Glad your eyes still work after six months of wind burn without your goddamn helmet.”

He swallows hard, barely hearing the malice in your voice now. “How- how far along?”

“Take a fucking guess, Doctor,” you huff, shouldering your bag and walking around the nurse’s station. He moves to follow you, but you point at the ‘only employees past this door’ sign and give him a mock pout. “Wait outside if you care so much.”

Robby debates for a second and says weakly, “It’s my lunch, too; I need to get back to the hospital.”

You give him a look that reeks of ‘that’s what I thought’ and say, “Then get back to the hospital. I’m immune to being left behind now.”

It’s not your hatred that hurts. It’s your apathy.

He sends you texts. You don’t reply.

He leaves you voicemails. You don’t listen.

After a few more days of silence, he’s got his head in his hands at the bar while Jack nurses a beer, pitying his sorry ass. He’s been silent for two straight beers, clearly gathering the courage to tell him the good news. It takes Jack reminding him that this is his only night off for Robby to choke out, “She’s pregnant. Very pregnant. Seven months, probably.”

“Ah.” Jack studies his best friend’s face for a long time before settling on a simple, succinct, thorough, “Fuck.”

Robby sucks in a long breath and lets it out slow. “Yeah. Fuck.”

“And she doesn’t want anything to do with you now.” It’s not a question. It’s the truth of the matter. Jack shakes his head and then gives Robby one of those pointed looks only a brother could get away with. “I don’t blame her.”

Robby balks, “You said I should go on the trip.”

“But I’m not your girlfriend.”

“And thank god for that.”

“You didn’t talk to her about leaving?”

“I didn’t realize I needed her permission.”

“You didn’t. But you should’ve wanted it.” Jack puts on that sage old friend voice and goes on, “You told me before you left that she’s the one. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“A lot. That’s why I had to go,” Robby replies, grappling with too much of himself. “Look, leaving was the right thing to do. I know that now more than ever. I figured a lot of shit out and I feel a hell of a lot better – about myself, my future, my life. But now? Now there’s going to be a baby. My baby. Our baby.” Robby gently thumps his forehead on the bartop and groans, “The whole time I was gone, I thought she’d be waiting for me when I came home. Every step of the way, I figured- I figured she’d still want me.”

“Delusions of grandeur,” Jack opines almost absently. Then he yanks Robby to sitting upright by the back of his hoodie. “She’s so far out of your league you’d have to get drafted first just to be her water boy. Why the hell would you think that?”

“Because she always waited for me,” Robby mutters, sounding so absolutely pathetic Jack debates recording it for blackmail down the road. “She- she was always there. She always stayed.”

“And you repaid her by leaving.”

Robby’s voice drops to an ashamed whisper. “I didn’t realize she loved me enough to care that I left.”

“But she did.”

“She did.” Robby stares straight ahead, through Jack and through the walls and through the world until his eyes settle back on his relationship with you – the one good part of his life that had spiraled squarely out of his control. “She was shining a light in my face, but I was too busy covering my own eyes to see her. Too deep in my own self-doubt and self-hatred to recognize what was right in front of me.”

“Alright, Socrates, pack it in.” Jack claps a hand on Robby’s back and summarizes, “You fucked it up and you need to fix it.”

“I fucked it up and I need to fix it,” Robby confirms. “But how do I even begin to say sorry for something like that?”

“She doesn’t want you to say sorry,” Jack replies. It’s effortless for him, this kind of thing. Robby is supremely jealous of how simple Jack makes it all sound. “She doesn’t want Robby the rich attractive attending anymore.”

“Flatterer.”

“Shut up. I’m saying she’s spent the last six months thinking you were gone. While you’re god knows where, she’s figuring out how to be a single mom on a nurse’s salary. So I know she doesn’t want what you used to be for her.”

Jack pauses for long enough that Robby has to sigh and prod, “You’re really gonna make me prompt you? Tell me what you think she wants.”

“She wants a dad for her kid. A real dad, not a sperm donor. She doesn’t want a boyfriend. She wants a husband. And a husband doesn’t have to run away to figure his shit out. Show up for the baby and you’re showing up for her.” Jack finishes off his beer, slaps down a handful of cash, and tells him, “Let’s get a cab. I think you need to cry yourself to sleep to figure out your next move.”

At nine a few nights later, after his shift, Robby knocks on the door of the new address he definitely didn’t steal from your personnel file. It’s a small townhouse in an okay part of town, better than your previous shoebox, but it’s still nothing compared to his spacious home further out of the city. The place he always imagined raising his family in. The place where you’d taken up half his closet, half his bathroom counterspace, half his life. Half his heart, undeniably.

When Trinity Santos answers the door, Robby nearly falls on his ass. With a green face mask cracking on her skin and her eyes burning with anger, he’s never seen her looking so full of wrath. Which is saying something. “What are you doing here, Dr. Robby?”

His brows furrow as he explains, “I was trying to see my girlfriend, but I guess I got the wrong address somehow.”

Santos scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You girlfriend? Pretty sure you forfeited that title when you ditched her like she didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Woah, Jesus,” Robby chuckles, holding his hands up. “Is that the general consensus? Guess that explains all the hostility today.”

“Not hostile, just professional.”

“You were definitely hostile.”

Trinity glares. “File a complaint.”

She moves to shut the door, but he catches it with one large hand. “Is she here?”

Trinity continues to use her body to block him from entering. She knows he’d never do anything crazy like push her, but she wants to make her allegiance perfectly clear. “Yup.”

“She lives with you and Whitaker now?”

“Yup. Saving money until the last minute.”

“God.” Robby runs his hand over the back of his head. “Can I- Can I just come in and see her?”

Holding bitter eye contact, Trinity calls over her shoulder, “Do you want to see Robby?”

Your voice is immediate. There’s more hurt in it than he’d heard this morning, and something about that makes him feel hopeful. Like there might still be something for him to hold onto. “He’s here?”

“At the door.”

Robby listens as a chair squeaks across the floor and your footsteps recede toward a staircase. Away from him. Fainter now, you call, “Get rid of him.”

Trinity nods and turns back to her boss. “You heard the woman. Go home.”

“Fuck, fine. It’s getting late anyway; she should sleep.” With a rough sigh, he reaches into his inner jacket pocket and hands her an envelope. “Can you give this to her at least?”

Santos snatches it from his hand and demands, “What is it?”

“It’s ten thousand dollars.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fuck off, Robby.”

Without saying anything else, she slams the door in his face. Shaking her head, Trinity ascends the steps to the second floor, where all the bedrooms are, and knocks on your door. You answer with puffy, tear-swollen eyes. Right away, Trinity wraps you up in a hug and sighs, “He’s the worst. I’ll kill him at work tomorrow.”

You laugh, sniffle, and shake your head. “No need. I was going to have to deal with this eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but it should be your choice on your terms, not him showing up unannounced.” You nod and pull back from the hug, swiping your cheeks one more time. Trinity holds up the envelope and says, “Robby wants me to give this to you. I can rip it up or hold onto it or-”

“I’ll take it.” You smile softly at her and add, “Thanks, Trin. You shouldn’t have to deal with my drama.”

“You deal with my gay soap opera with Yo,” she points out with a conspiratorial grin.

Your reply is interrupted by the sound of Dennis emerging from his bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’s been on the late-night shift the past couple weeks, slowly becoming nocturnal. “What’s going on?”

Trinity answers with malice lacing her tone, “Robby showed up.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Bastard.”

“You don’t have to say that,” you reply with a laugh. “I know you want to go back to being his personal assistant as soon as possible.”

“Trinity would kill me,” he mutters.

She punches him on the arm. “And I’d be right! We don’t defend shitty men who-”

“Robby’s not a shitty man; you know that,” he interrupts her. “He handled leaving in a shitty way; that doesn’t make him a shitty person.”

“You’re too forgiving, Nebraska.”

“And you’re not forgiving enough.”

You sigh sharply, “And I need to go to sleep.”

“At least open up the letter for us,” Trinity insists. “My nosiness is absolutely screaming for the intel. I won’t be able to sleep without it.”

Ripping open the envelope, you sigh, “I’m sure it’s just some stupid saccharine guilt bomb designed to make me-” Your voice falls to the ground and melts through the floorboards. There’s a folded-up note wrapped around something much more interesting. You hold it up to Trinity and Dennis and breathlessly announce, “It’s a check for ten thousand dollars.”

“Oh my god, I thought he was being a dick,” Trinity replies, her voice equally low and surprised, almost reverent – not for Robby but for the sheer amount of money. “Why the hell would he…?”

With shaking hands, you read the corresponding handwritten note to your roommates.

I don’t know whether or not when you’ll let me back into your life. That’s up to you. I accept it. I respect that it’s your choice. But I’m not going to be a deadbeat dad. You know I can’t do that. You know about my father. I’m never going to become him. I hope you believe that. So this isn’t a bribe to take me back. I promise it isn’t. It’s not an apology. I’m still working on that. It’s for our kid. For you as the mother of my child, not just the a woman I want need miss love care about. Nursery stuff, vitamins, doctor’s appointments, your favorite hot chocolate from Vino’s, anything you need until they’re born. I’m not going to let you want for anything. If money is all you’ll accept from me, then take every penny I have. Please. I promise I won’t abandon the baby. I promise I will do whatever you need from me and more. And I promise I love you. Both of you. I hope you’ll Please, let me prove it. Love, Sincerely, Yours, M.

All three of you hold your breath in the space that follows Robby’s painstakingly scrawled words.

Then Dennis takes a long breath and urges, “See? He’s good. He cares. He wants to take care of you and the baby. You could do a hell of a lot worse.”

Trinity shakes her head and swallows hard. “She could do a hell of a lot better, too. He still left.”

Dennis argues, “He didn’t know she was pregnant.”

You whisper, “Do I really want a man who would only stay because of a baby?”

Knowing far too much for his own good, Dennis touches your shoulder and presses, “Do you really want any man besides him?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to breathe. “I need sleep. I’ll…Fuck. I’ll let you guys know whenever I figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

Trinity brushes your cheek with her thumb. “Love you, sunshine. Goodnight.”

You wish her goodnight and Dennis a good shift before retreating into your bedroom. You change into your pajamas, ignoring the tee of Robby’s that still lives in your drawer, and curl up with your thoughts. In bed on your side, you rest your hand on your bump and wish the little life inside could tell you the right thing to do.

In his home across town, all Robby knows is that he’s never felt so much relief watching $10,000 leave his account.

In the morning, on your way out, the door thumps against something heavy on the stoop. A large plastic tote with a brown bag from your favorite cafe on top of it. You call over your shoulder for Trinity and she hauls the heavy box inside while you focus on the little bag of treats with a note card stapled to it. Inside the bag is your usual order that Robby always brought into the hospital for you in the mornings, the coffee replaced by a ginger tea but the bear claw looking as delectable as ever.

I figured you might want your things back from my place. I’m sorry for being gone longer than you expected for not giving you a key in the first place for unintentionally stealing your stuff for coming by last night. I don’t want to make anything worse. M.

Trinity reads the note over your shoulder and announces, “He’s groveling.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should let him grovel.”

Biting the sweet fluffy pastry, you consider, “I don’t want to be cruel. I’m not going to keep his own baby from him.”

“Of course not. But that’s not what we’re talking about. Do you want him? Not just as your co-parent or sperm donor or whatever. A husband. A real man. Do you want to be Mrs. Robby someday soon?”

“Of course I do,” you sigh, “but I just…I don’t trust him anymore. How could I?”

“I’m just saying,” she reasons with a shrug, “if his baseline grovel is 10k, I for one would love to see where he goes from there. Maybe you’ll end up with a private plane or something.”

“Robby’s got money, but he doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“As far as we know,” she replies with a snicker. “Look, at the end of the day, you have to decide if you can trust him, so I say you tell him exactly what you need and see if he can hack it. Be blunt with him about your expectations. He can worship the ground you walk on from here on out or he can spend the rest of his life signing child support checks and seeing his kid every other weekend.”

You laugh and polish off the bear claw. “You’re a menace, Trinity Santos.”

“My specialty.” She pours herself a coffee and collects her bag. “Now do you want a ride or are you grabbing the bus?”

“It’s a beautiful morning; I don’t mind the bus.”

“Maybe Robby will get you a car.”

“Yeah,” you snort, “maybe.”

Right as your lunch break starts that afternoon, a delivery driver shows up by the staff entrance with an order bearing your name. After one of the other nurses calls you back, you take the heavy bag of absolutely heavenly-smelling Thai food and ask the driver, “Is this from Michael Robinavitch?”

“Yeah, he said you’d be expecting it.” He checks the order on his phone and reads, “The delivery instructions said ‘tell her I know for a fact she doesn’t eat enough protein to be growing a whole new person.’ Congratulations; he sounds like a nice dad.”

You shake your head and sigh. “Yeah, he can be.”

And it goes on like that for the next five days before you decide what to do. Robby always orders you lunch. None of the following meals come with messages, though, just something carefully chosen for your tastes and needs. He even remembers the way you order things – extra lime on your pad thai, salsa verde instead of pico on your tacos, and any bonus dessert he can throw in – to the point where you wonder if people at the Pitt are helping him out, campaigning for the two of you to get back together.

Robby checks his phone way too many times that entire first week that he’s back. He keeps waiting for you to text, call, email, hell he’ll even take a DM at this point. But you don’t. It’s agony. If nothing else, Trinity’s dagger-glare has dulled into more of a butter-knife-glare by Friday afternoon.

Then.

After he clocks out and heads to the parking lot, there you are. Leaning on his fucking motorcycle. You’re a vision in the waning afternoon, sunlight catching your hair and brightening your eyes. You speak first: “Can we talk?”

“Yes,” Robby answers too fast. “Of course we can. Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“No. I don’t.” You swallow hard and then nod to a nearby bench, sitting down before he does the same. With one hand on your belly, you train your eyes forward and tell him, “You said in your note that you want to prove you love me. But I know you love me. That’s not the problem.”

Robby has to resist the urge to take your hands in his, to tilt your face toward him, to do anything that would ground your bodies together. “Tell me.”

Confirming his every fear, you whisper, “I don’t trust you enough to raise a child with you.”

Throat thick and limbs heavy, he rasps, “You don’t want me to be involved with my own kid?”

“Of course I want you to be in her life; that’s not- that’s not what I meant. But I don’t know if I can trust you to be her dad – her mom’s partner – and not just her biological father.”

The world tilts slightly.

Robby’s breath catches in his throat. 

Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them back. His voice trembles alongside his hands as he confirms, “It’s a girl?

You can’t help the way that softens you. You can see the universe he’s building behind his eyes: Robby holding a pink-blanket bundle, Robby learning to braid hair, Robby being fiercely protective and achingly tender.

You want to share that life with him so badly that it hurts. To sit by his side at dance recitals and tell bedtime stories together and be real.

“Yeah,” you settle for saying, intimately quiet, just for the two of you, “she’s a girl.”

“Wow. Holy shit. A girl. A little girl. Have you-” He clears his throat and swats a tear from his cheek. “Have you picked a name yet?”

You shake your head and admit, “I have some favorites, but it wouldn’t feel right to choose by myself. Without you, I mean. She’s not just mine.” Robby lets the next few tears fall onto his scrub pants and you can’t bear to watch. So you dig around in your purse and hand over the few ultrasound pictures you’d set aside, always hoping you’d be able to give them to him. One from each of your check-ups, a timeline from blob to baby. “Here. Yours to keep.”

Robby stares down at pure gold in his hands. He looks over each photo like a precious ancient text, smiling with those lovely wrinkles of his. After looking at the most recent one for a long time, he murmurs lovingly, “She’s got your nose.”

You touch your pointer finger to the picture and reply, “And your huge feet.”

His eyes stay locked on the scan for another full minute; he’s too choked up to add anything else. Once he’s finally starting to recover from growing a new chamber of his heart so quickly, he tucks the photos into his backpack, slides onto the sidewalk in front of you like he’s about to propose, and gazes up at your face. “I’ll do anything to be yours again.”

Biting your lower lip, you nod. Slow. Thinking. “I can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t want that.” He sits back onto the bench next to you, this time tilting his whole body towards yours. Creating space he begs you to fill. “I know we can’t exactly start over, but I- I want to be new together. I want to fix what I broke.”

“Okay,” you whisper back, trying hard not to cry. Hormones and hope make a brutal cocktail. You sniffle hard and suggest, “Trinity told me you have the weekend off. Breakfast tomorrow? Well, brunch; the baby likes to sleep in.”

“Absolutely. Anywhere you want, any time.”

Your eyes narrow. “That fancy place you took me after the first time I slept over?”

“I’ll pick you up at ten.”

You wince as the baby launches a foot into your ribcage. “Sold.”

With those dumb beautiful wide cow eyes of his, Robby asks, “Are you okay?”

“Your daughter’s beating the shit out of me,” you groan. When he laughs, though, you soften even more. Tentative, you offer, “Do you want to feel?”

Robby’s voice is ragged and desperate like you’ve never heard it. It’s heavy with love and with need and with hope. One word holds every dream he’s ever had. “Please.”

You take his hand and guide it to the spot where the baby is currently dancing a samba, watching his tender, reverent expression every moment.

“Holy shit.” Robby laughs and grins at you while the baby nudges him over and over like she’s saying hi. “That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.”

You roll your eyes and try not to smile. “Please; you’ve felt a million babies kick.”

“But this is-” He shakes his head and chuckles again at another flutter. “This is different. Is she always this active?”

“In the evening, yeah. Like she can tell I’m done with work and it’s playtime.” You put your hand over his, nothing more than an instinct, and rub your thumb over his skin. “She’s gonna terrorize us.”

‘Us’ settles, warm and cozy, in the hearth of Robby’s chest. He leans down and kisses your bump gently. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You’re halfway through the insanely decadent strawberries-and-cream crepes you ordered when you actually get up the confidence to break the charged silence between you and Robby. He’d overly complimented your cozy but stylish enough ribbed knit dress and you’d noted his freshly trimmed beard making him look too handsome for you to think clearly. Then a healthy dose of small talk while you waited for food. Now silence.

After licking a bit of vanilla cream from the corner of your mouth, you rush out, “I want you to audition to be my husband.”

One side of Robby’s lip ticks up into a cute, amused smirk. “Shall I prepare a monologue or a musical number? Will there be a dance portion?”

You hum teasingly, “There’ll be whatever I want; that’s the whole point.”

“This has Trinity Santos written all over it.”

You shrug and relent, “She may have had a hand in the concept.”

His fork wavers in the air. “Should I fear for my life?”

“No more than you usually do around her,” you giggle, just a bit, and Robby feels part of himself taking flight at the proof of any lightness left between the two of you. Then you go on seriously (so seriously it wraps back around to adorable for him), “For the next two weeks, I’m going to tell you what I need from you and you’re going to do it as soon as you can. Every time. I want to be the most needy, most demanding, most pregnant person in the entire world. If you can survive that, you can apologize. Give me a real, thoughtful apology and I’ll accept.”

Right away, Robby nods and confirms, “Consider it done.”

You raise a challenging eyebrow. “That easy?”

He puffs up his chest a bit. “I’m an emergency room doctor; I think I can handle a few midnight craving runs.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m 100% confident.”

“Great. Love that.” You sip your drink, gaze at him over the rim, and then tell him with the most vindictive smile you can manage, “The first thing I want you to do is sell the motorcycle.”

That night, Robby’s phone rings with a call from you for the first time in six months. It wakes him from a dead sleep, but he’s been craving your custom ringtone so much that he still manages to answer within less than a second. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he slurs out, “Hi, mama.”

“Hey, Michael.” He can clearly picture you sitting cross-legged on your bed with a menacing smile as you ask, “Can you bring me a tub of that cake batter ice cream I like? The one with the blue frosting swirl and rainbow sprinkles and the actual chunks of pound cake.”

Robby puts you on speaker so he can sit up, stretch his arms, and hit the lights. As he tugs on whatever clothes he runs into, he clarifies, “You mean the one they sell at that kitschy 24-hour diner roadside attraction thing off the highway out in Bridgeville?”

“That would be the one.” Sounding downright wistful, you tell him, “I’ve been craving it my whole pregnancy, but I felt bad asking Trinity to do nearly an hour of driving to scratch the itch.”

Robby frowns as he fumbles through tying his shoes. “You still don’t have a car?”

“I’m living with Dennis and Trinity to save money so I can get one by the time the baby needs to go to daycare,” you tell him softly, trying not to let it sound like an invitation. You swallow hard and repeat firmly, “Ice cream. One hour.”

He smiles to himself as he picks up his car keys. “See you soon.”

Before Robby opens the door to the garage, his phone pings with a text. It’s Whitaker, for some reason.

Good luck on your first mission. Her feet are killing her extra today, by the way.

With a grateful little smile, Robby grabs a tube of the cocoa butter lotion you’d put him onto back when you were together and tucks it conspiratorially in his pocket.

Noted. Thanks for the tip.

Dennis shoots off two more texts before Robby gets to driving.

I’m rooting for you.

If you could also grab me some of those real rootbeers in the dark bottles they sell there that would be great.

Robby rolls his eyes and starts the car. It takes almost exactly one hour to make his way to the neighboring town, stand in line at the Cracker-Barrel-esque diner shop, and head over to your place. It’s quiet this time of night in your neighborhood, so quiet that he doesn’t even have to knock. You answer the door in a crop top that sits on top of your bump and gray sweatpants that hang low beneath it, rolled up around your ankles. You’re visibly exhausted and need a shower and you’ve never been more beautiful.

Then you glance over his shoulder at the car still idling by the curb and your mouth falls open in shock.

“Michael David Robinavitch,” you say breathlessly, hopping down onto the stoop to get a better look, “is that a minivan?”

“Brand new Chrysler Pacifica,” he confirms, following you over and slapping his hand on the hood like it’s a sports car. “Most safety and security features in its class. Ain’t she a beaut?”

With a shy smile, you confirm, “You got rid of the motorcycle?”

Robby shrugs modestly. “Not very practical when you have kids.”

“Kids. Plural.”

He cuts you a look that’s all cocky and loving. “Yeah. Plural.” Then, before you can stop buffering and come up with a response, he slides open the side door of the van and removes his spoils. Hoisting heavy reusable bags, Robby announces, “Two gallons of ice cream as ordered. Hopefully that’ll last you until after my next shift.”

You squeal and grab one of the bags from him, practically skipping back into the house. You leave the front door open and Robby hesitantly takes it as an invitation to join you inside, lingering in the doorway as you beeline to the kitchen, scoop yourself a hearty bowl, and put the rest away in the freezer. You pause, turn to Robby, and check, “You want some?”

Robby carefully steps the rest of the way into the living room and closes the door behind him. “I think all that sugar and fat would give me a heart attack even faster than the stress.”

You sigh and flop down on the couch, lifting your feet onto the coffee table and settling the bowl on your stomach. “Try telling that to your daughter; all she wants is sugar and fat.”

“Thus why I keep sending you balanced meals to eat.”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” you lilt gently, smiling around the spoon as you indulge in the ice cream. You close your eyes and throw your head back, moaning, “Fuck, this is so good. Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“I’m happier watching you eat it,” he chuckles as he memorizes your pleased expression. It’s the first time he’s seen you so content and not on the verge of yelling at him since he’s been back. “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Yeah, actually,” you tell him as you try to get comfortable, adjusting pillows around your limbs, “I want to hear about your trip.”

Robby’s brows go up; he genuinely hadn’t expected you to want to talk to him at all. “Really?”

“Yup.” You pat the couch next to you. “Princess kept calling it your midlife crisis fuck-a-thon, so I want to hear about all your exploits.”

Robby tilts his head to the side and says plainly, quietly, urgently, “I didn’t have sex with anyone while I was gone.”

You try to ignore the way that knowledge makes you breathless, focusing on creating perfectly balanced bites of ice cream. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not.” He shrugs, joins you on the couch, and says sheepishly, “I thought I had my girl waiting for me when I got back.”

“Girls don’t wait for men who don’t even text while they’re gone,” you murmur back, sounding more pathetic than you’d wanted.

“I know. I was really screwed up before I left because of everything with the shooting and with Langdon and I- I didn’t see anything clearly. Couldn’t.” Without making anything of it, Robby shifts your bare feet into his lap and starts to rub the arch of one with his thumbs, deep and perfect. He gives you a cheeky look and adds, “But someone I’m trying to impress told me that I had to earn the opportunity to apologize, so I won’t get into all that yet.”

You give him a pointed look. “Any particular reason you’re rubbing my feet?”

He shrugs innocently and reasons, “You’re pregnant; I’m sure they’re killing you all the time.”

“It’s just interesting timing,” you muse, “considering I was complaining about needing a foot massage to Whitaker right before he left for his shift and you just so happened to bring him that weird Pennsylvania root beer he’s been wanting.”

“A man has to have some secrets,” he murmurs. Then he removes all pretense and rucks up the legs of your sweats, takes the lotion from his pocket, and really gets down to business. While he works tension from your feet and ankles and calves, Robby tells you honestly, “All I really did on my trip was think.”

You tease, “Sounds horrible.”

“It was, a lot of the time.” Robby takes the empty bowl from your hands and sets it on the coffee table, promising to wash it before he leaves, and insists you just relax under the expert working of his hands. “I didn’t go because I needed a vacation. I needed to…reset. I watched a lot of sunsets in beautiful places, wrote in my journal twice a day, tried to get eight full hours of sleep every night.”

Your mouth falls open. “You wrote in a journal?”

“Still do,” he replies, sounding a little impressed with himself. “It helps me think. Helps me view my thoughts more rationally – see how stupid they can get, how untrue – when I can read them on the page instead of just repeating them over and over in my mind.”

“That’s really good,” you sigh, head on the cushion and eyes closed. He’s not sure if you’re talking about the journaling or the foot massage or both. Frankly, he doesn’t care. Just getting to hear your sounds of simple pleasure is enough. Interlocking your hands over your bump, you sleepily prod, “Tell me about all the beautiful sunsets, then.”

Robby knows you’re about two minutes from falling asleep, but he happily obliges regardless. He talks about the rolling Appalachians that separate Pittsburgh from the East Coast, the light over the Atlantic early in the morning, the busy cities and empty back roads alike. He talks about the old man he sat with for three hours in a coffee shop listening to him glow about his late wife. He talks about the beach where he saw a family playing and finally felt at peace about Heather’s miscarriage years ago. He talks about the synagogue in New York City where he went just to feel connected to some peace but a rabbi sought him out from the sea of faces and said the Tefilat Haderech over him. He recites the lines he remembers.

…lead us in peace and direct our steps in peace, and guide us in peace, and support us in peace, and cause us to reach our destination in life, joy, and peace…grant me grace, kindness, and mercy…bestow upon us abundant kindness…

After a while, he hears you softly snoring, but he doesn’t stop. Instead he touches your exposed belly, gently working the lotion over your stretch marks, and soothes, “Someday I’ll take you all the beautiful places I’ve seen. You’re going to have the most perfect life I can give you. You and your mom and me.”

Coming in quietly after her shift, Trinity walks into the living room, takes in the scene in front of her, and grins unabashedly. Big bad attending Dr. Robby waiting on you hand and foot just like she told you he should. Grabbing a late snack, she chuckles and praises, “Now this is what I like to see, Rob.”

Robby whispers back, “Be quiet. She’s out like a light.”

“You were just talking to her.”

He corrects, “I was talking to the baby. Mom might be asleep, but my little girl is up and kicking in there listening to my stories.”

She gives him a slap on the back as she walks by. “You’ll bore her to sleep soon enough, gramps.”

Robby’s eating leftovers in bed the next time you call on him. He pauses the TV and picks up the call. “Michael Robinavitch personal assistant service, how may I help you?”

You groan, “I want to shave my legs and I can’t reach anymore.”

He chuckles quietly and hastens to eat the last few bites of his dinner. “Sounds like something I can handle. Do I need to pick up anything to enhance your experience? Chocolate?”

Your voice perks up just a little. “Twix. Several.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And a blue raspberry slushee if you get the Twix at a 7/11.”

“I think I can manage that.”

Half an hour later, you’re in the bath sipping on a Big Gulp and wearing a bikini – much to Robby’s eye-rolling amusement, you insisted he had to earn even non-sexual nudity – while Robby lathers up your legs with your fancy moisturizing gel. You don’t miss the way he takes the time to massage the knots from your calves with those deliciously large hands. God, you missed his hands.

“You’ve got a real jungle going down here,” Robby tuts as he starts in above your ankles, working his way over your skin methodically and thoroughly, his glasses sitting low on his nose as if he’s prepping a surgical field. If this is a measure of how much he cares for you, then he’s not going to miss a single hair. “Gonna need a weed wacker for those shins.”

You glare at him. “I will send that razor straight through your hand, Michael.”

“I’m just saying you could’ve asked me a week ago.”

“I didn’t have any reason to shave my legs a week ago.”

“But you do now?” He raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Hot date?”

“With the OBGYN, yup. She’s a real hunk.”

He gives you a very pointed look at that. “Do you want me to trim your bush?”

“Michael!”

“I know you prefer to keep the topiary neat and the ground below smooth.”

“I will not hesitate to splash you.”

Robby just laughs. As he rinses off the razor and touches up some areas – he even shaves your big toes without saying a word, the gentleman – he sighs and lets his voice go low and honest. “That was a sincere offer. I’m not trying to get off on your personal maintenance, I promise. You always told me you felt uncomfortable when things got a little unruly.”

Sounding far too flirty for Robby’s sanity, you reply, “And you always told me you like unruly.”

“But it’s your body,” he replies. Earnest. Insistent. “I’m not going to push it, but it’s on the table if you change your mind. I want to do anything that will make being pregnant more comfortable for you. I know being up in the stirrups every few weeks can’t exactly be fun.”

After a moment, you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard above the gentle movement of the bath water. “You’re making it really hard to stay mad at you.”

His eyes drift up to yours. You both hold the eye contact for so long that, for some reason, tears sting at your waterline. His golden brown irises are too familiar, too warm, too full of love you’re afraid to accept and afraid to lose. Finally he says, “I want you to be mad at me until you don’t need to be anymore.”

You scoff, “You want me to be mad at you?”

He swallows hard and amends, “I want you to feel everything you need to feel. I can take it.”

And you want to kiss him.

You hate him – and you want to kiss him. So you sigh and say, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Untying the sides of your bikini bottoms, you confirm, “Let’s trim the bush.”

He makes a show of patting his pockets before announcing, “Crap, I think I left my pruning shears at home.”

You smile and roll your eyes, grateful for his levity and the effortless way he makes you feel safe in his presence. You slip the rest of the way out of the bikini, wring it out, and hand him the sopping fabric. He hangs it over the sink and returns to his place by your side.

As he cleans off the razor again, Robby assures you, “Tell me if you want me to stop. It’s okay if you change your mind any time. You know as well as I do that the OBGYN won’t care what your vulva looks like.”

You snicker, “I know. Get to it, doc.”

Robby chuckles, sinks his hands into the water, and guides your legs apart just enough to give him access. When his fingertips graze your labia, he hisses in a needy breath at the familiar feel of your soft lips. Then he curses softly, shaking his head with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Reflexive reaction. Nothing short of professionalism from here on out.”

You laugh, “It’s okay. Glad to know someone still finds me remotely attractive even though I feel like a beached whale.”

“You’ve never been more attractive,” he says quietly. Quickly. But he doesn’t let it hang. He gives a sharp soldier’s nod and gets to work, using his precise doctor’s fingertips to guide his motions. “You know, the last time I did this, it was because a woman had superglue in her pubes. Gluing her shut.”

You wince. “Jesus fuck. How does something like that even happen?”

He shrugs. “Freak sex accident, I’m assuming. That’s half the job.” Then he furrows his brow and drags his fingers up your innermost thigh, cleaning up the edges. “Alright, no more jokes, I’ve gotta focus when I’m relying on touch.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

You close your eyes and lean your head back on the bath pillow Robby ordered to be delivered to your place a few nights ago. In the low light with a backdrop of soothing water sounds, you relax easily; Michael’s touch could never be unfamiliar to you. He uses the fingers of one hand to guide the other, methodically following his own touch along your labia, down near your entrance, up towards your clit. You try to control your breathing as his confident motions start to work some neglected parts of your brain. When he gently pushes against your mons to make the skin straighter and easier to shave, the heel of his hand rests against your clit and you can barely think. He’s not doing it on purpose – that much is clear from how he’s got his tongue slightly out in focus, attuned only to what he’s doing – but it’s working you up nonetheless.

Your shaky voice breaks through the silence. “Michael?”

Totally concentrated on the task at hand, he slows his hands and offers, “Hm?”

Like a guilty child, you admit, “You’re turning me on.”

Right away, he withdraws his hands from under the water and moves away from the tub. “Shit, I’m sorry. I swear I wasn’t trying to do any-”

“No, it’s- it’s okay,” you assure quickly. “I just haven’t been able to, um, do anything about, ah, that particular sort of thing for the last two-ish months. I’m a little…pent up. I didn’t want to, like, start moaning or something on accident.”

Robby hesitates. There’s a war in his eyes. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, trying not to think about anything at all. His cheeks turn red the way you always teased him for and he opens his mouth to talk. Closes it again. Repeats that a few times.

Ultimately, he doesn’t say a thing, just waits for you to lead.

You love him for not offering, for not cracking a joke, for not deflecting. He just creates space for you, leaning against your counter and keeping his eyes on your face. The man in front of you is the same Robby you’ve adored for years and claimed as yours for months, but he’s different, too. There’s a calm to him you haven’t seen before. When Robby used to touch you, it was hot and claiming and craving and yearning. You felt his desperation in every kiss. This man is waiting. Deferent.

For the first time, you’re in charge. You get to decide.

So you decide.

Gently, certain but sheepish, you ask, “Would you mind, um, helping me out with that?”

His voice is strangled and his face is contorted into something akin to agony. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to change anything with where we’re at right now,” you clarify, speaking slow, like you’re worried about a nervous cat darting, “but I could really use some relief on that front. If that- if that wouldn’t be too weird.”

“Weird?” Robby laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “No, it wouldn’t be weird.”

“What would it be, then?”

He takes in a shaky breath and replies, “It wouldn’t have to be something.” Sitting down by the tub again, he says, “I said I’d do anything to make you comfortable. Anything.” He lets his hand once again drift below the water, looking at you like it’s a challenge. “I’m not a chicken about fingering a girl when she needs some help.” As his thumb ghosts over your clit, you gasp and stifle the ensuing moan with the back of your hand. Suppressing a self-satisfied smirk, Robby reminds you, “Just tell me if you want me to stop. This isn’t about me.”

You nod eagerly and tilt your hips forward to give him better access. Robby shakes his head a bit; you were always so greedy for him to touch you and it doesn’t seem like that’s changed. Robby uses the pad of his thumb to work your clit, keeping firm contact as he rubs it in small circles, not too fast but not teasing, either. Your need is obvious in the fast rising and falling of your chest, the twitching in your thighs, the way you bite your lower lip and pinch your eyes shut. He treats this like what it is: Relief.

When he can tell you’re wanting more – letting out those soft and desperate little moans he always replays when he jerks off – he dips his other hand between your legs and feels between your lips. You’re wet and begging and he’s not going to deny you for even a second. With the water not letting anything get particularly lubricated, Robby keeps his fingers seated inside of you, curling them instead of thrusting. Your pretty lips fall open in a pleased ‘o’ and Robby’s borderline dizzy from how good it feels to get you off again. He’s not sure if it’s the pregnancy or the desperation but you feel downright swollen with lust, hot and plush and like he could spend the rest of his life keeping you knocked up and-

Woah, asshole.

Calm down.

He takes a deep breath of his own, matching one of yours, and focuses back on you and not on his achingly hard cock straining for freedom from his sweats. As he massages your g-spot way too effortlessly, the palm of his other hand pulls the hood of your clit back slightly, just enough to light your nerves on fire from the intensity of his touch. Heat rises in your cheeks, your chest, your thighs. Robby knows how to work a long, hard orgasm out of you. He never rushes. He matches the curls of his fingers with his thumb on your clit and doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, doesn’t race. He lets you feel every singular sparking second until you’re tightening up around him, your toes curling, your thighs clamping around his hand, your back arching as much as it’ll allow.

All Robby gives himself permission to say as you cum around his fingers is a soft, loving, “There you go. That’s it.”

When your pussy finally starts to release him, only faint fluttery aftershocks remaining, Robby pulls out of you, resists the urge to lick his fingers, and wipes his hands dry. He shuts his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath before he can bear to look at you. The sweat on your brow, the blown darkness of your pupils, the slight swell from biting your lower lip. You’re too beautiful for him to cope with. Robby gazes at you only as long as he can handle before averting his eyes. 

To distract himself from the goddess bathing below him, Robby absently strokes your oversized towel hanging on the nearby rack and offers, “Ready to get out? I’ll help you up.”

Still breathless, you stare up at Robby in surprise. He didn’t kiss you, didn’t ask for any pleasure in exchange, only gave you what you needed, what you asked for. Pure, unadulterated respect. For your body, your boundaries, your desires. That’s so much sexier than the desperate love the two of you used to make between agonized sheets. “That would be good. Thank you.”

Robby pulls the stopper on the tub and extends his strong hands for you. Your eyes lock together as you stand with a groan. As he wraps you up in the towel, he holds your shoulders a moment and says urgently, earnestly, “Anything. Any time.”

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

In the morning, Robby’s securing his sleeves with his nicest cufflinks when you call him exactly when he’d expected. He may have snooped on your calendar – it was hanging on your wall as he helped you into bed, sue him – and saw that your OGBYN appointment this morning is, in fact, your third trimester anatomy scan at 9:00am. He knew as soon as he saw it that you were going to ask him to come at the last minute, so he’d asked Jack to stay a few hours late and he’d do the same at night.

He picks up the phone, trying not to sound to pleased with himself. “What can I do for you, oh glorious mother of my child?”

“Laying it on thick already,” you tease. He can hear you talking around your toothbrush and the image makes him smile as he smooths out his charcoal gray blazer and applies a few dabs of cologne. “Would you mind coming to my ultrasound with me today? Trinity was supposed to drive me but I guess she can’t now.”

Robby grins from ear to ear when he catches you in the blatant lie. Trinity’s working a double, which of course Robby would know as her supervisor. You were never planning on asking anyone else. Tucking that knowledge away in a secret place in his heart, Robby nudges, “Do you need a ride or am I invited in?”

“It’s your baby, dumbass,” you reply, the words half-formed now as you floss. After you rinse and spit again, you tell him more seriously, “I want you there.”

“You do?”

There’s a beat of silence where he’s worried he’s pushed too far. But then you say, “Yeah, I do. I wish you could’ve been there for the first few.”

With a deep breath, he replies, “Me too. I’d give anything to go back and-” He takes another deep breath and shakes his head at himself. “I’ll be there to pick you up in a few, okay?”

“See you soon, Michael.”

“Lo- See you, sweetheart.”

When you see Robby leaning against that goddamn minivan, you nearly jump his bones. He’s wearing slim-cut jeans that make his thighs look like tree trunks, his white button-down is undone just enough to show off some chest hair, and he’s got on a fucking blazer. A blazer. The bastard. When did he start putting mousse in his hair to make it so…tousled? Touchable. You can just imagine grabbing it while you ride him into oblivion.

Robby can’t suppress the very similar thoughts he’s having at seeing your outfit. You’re wearing a tea-length floral skirt with a slouchy, oversized sweater half-tucked into it. You look so comfy. Something about how soft and domestic you look as you approach him with your lace-hemmed socks and your oversized travel mug of tea is driving him crazy. He sees his whole life walking toward him with a sleepy smile on her lips.

Trying not to gawk too hard, you eye him up and down and say, “Michael, you look-” sexy as all fuck “-very handsome.”

He puffs up his chest. “Gotta look good; it’s my first time seeing my baby girl. I need to make a solid first impression.”

You roll your eyes, grinning as Robby pulls open the front door. “She can’t see you through my organs, babe.”

You don’t notice the word slipping out, so Robby doesn’t call attention to it. He just makes sure you’re buckled in and then sits on your other side with a glow in his gut. Then he reaches into his messenger bag in the backseat and hands over a king-sized Twix before starting the car and heading toward the hospital.

As you greedily open the wrapper, you hum, “What happened to Mr. Balanced Meal With Lots of Protein?”

“Mr. Balanced Meal With Lots of Protein knows you’re having your favorite burger with bacon and an egg on it from your favorite dive for lunch, on me,” he replies, glancing at you knowingly over the tops of his too-sexy sunglasses. “Throw in a side of sweet potato fries and I’m pretty sure science says that balances out a chocolate bar or two.”

You give a mock-salute with the half-eaten Twix. “Whatever you say, doctor.”

When Robby parks in his reserved spot near the ED, you both seem to realize the same thing at the same time. Robby stiffens up in his seat and offers, “I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking. I can, ah, drop you off at the main entrance and meet you inside?”

You turn to him with one of those soft, shy smiles that made his heart stammer every time he looked your way when you started in the Pitt. “It’s okay. Really. I mean, you’re gonna be on paternity leave in at most ten weeks, so it’s not exactly a secret, right?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “You know they’re gonna make it a whole thing, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“There might even be cake by the time we’re done.”

“God forbid.”

“Alright, fuck it.” Robby kills the engine and then walks around to your side of the van, helping you get your footing. “Let’s announce our lovechild to the world.”

“They probably already know; Trinity isn’t the most tight-lipped person,” you reason as he guides you with a large hand on the small of your back. It feels too protective and grounding for you to even pretend to protest.

“Jack didn’t know until I told him.”

“Because he’s such a notorious gossip.”

Robby can’t even respond because, as soon as you’re through the staff entrance, Dana’s staring straight forward at the two of you. Without moving her eyes from your stomach, she beelines your direction and gasps. After wrapping you up in a a warm hug, she looks you over and, disbelieving, mutters, “Holy hell, you are extremely pregnant.”

“Not extremely,” you balk as if it’s a ridiculous idea, “30 weeks.”

Dana seems to notice Robby’s presence and she narrows her eyes suspiciously, running the numbers in her head. “Thirty weeks, eh? Is that a new Robinavitch she’s growing?”

You absolutely beam when Robby blushes like a middle schooler. He confirms, “Yeah, that would be my little girl.”

“A girl!” Dana hugs both of you again and then looks at you seriously. “This one treating you like you deserve? Groveling profusely?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Good. As he should.”

Robby cuts in gently, “We’ve got an appointment upstairs, so we need to try to get through the floor to the elevator without too many interruptions.”

“Yeah, good fuckin’ luck with that,” Dana laughs as she gestures to the buzzing crowd gathering around the nurse’s station to get a look at you and Robby. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

Your cheeks are burning hot, so you poke Robby in the side and murmur, “Can you do one of your magical Dr. Robby speeches to make them go away? I don’t do well with public interrogations.”

“Your wish is my command,” he assures you quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. In the nerves of the moment, you want to turn and nuzzle your face into the comfort of his broad chest.

Then Robby claps loud a few times until the handful of free doctors and nurses gather up, including a deeply amused Jack, Trinity, and Whitaker. He announces in his Big Serious Attending voice, “Alright guys, a handful of things to stop-slash-start the rumor mill. One: Yes, I’m wearing a blazer; pictures are $45 a pop. Two: Yes, your former APRN is heavily pregnant. Three: Yes, it is my baby. Four: I’m in a period of repentance to regain her favor after being an ass for the last six months, but we’re figuring it out. Finally: The buy-in for the due date betting pool starts at $25; I’m not skimping out on my firstborn. Any follow-up questions can be directed to the admirable godmother Dr. Trinity Santos. Got it?”

Whitaker gives a charming little whoop and starts off the clapping, joined quickly by everyone else. As Robby accepts a handful of congratulations, Jack pulls you into a strong hug and looks you in the eyes, serious and stern as ever. There’s an undeniable warmth in the twitch of his lips, though, as he tells you, “He’s got you, kid. I know he does. He loves you to death and he knows he fucked up.”

You squeeze his bicep gently. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot.”

“No problem.” Then he points at your bump and adds, “That’s Uncle Jackie to you, miss.”

You blink back hormonal tears as you laugh. “Uncle Jackie, huh?”

He grins and boasts, “I was born to be an irresponsible but lovable bad influence uncle. That girl is gonna have the biggest and most annoying family of doctors and nurses.”

The baby gives you a swift kick in the bladder like she heard him say it. You place your hand over the ginger spot and smile. “Yeah, she will. We’re lucky.”

And suddenly so much love washes through your body you’re not sure you can hold it all. When you watch Robby absolutely glowing talking about becoming a dad, you know this is right. He’s the right man for you. For her. You’re swept up into the collection of hugs and congratulations, too, but you can’t stop watching Robby’s smile lines. The way he checks in with you every time he laughs. The way he’s looking at you not like a girlfriend or a baby mama but like the sun of his solar system.

Robby tucks you under his arm easily and calls, “Alright, alright, we have an ultrasound to get to, people, let’s back off the pregnant lady. You all have lives to save and baby shower gifts to buy.”

You giggle under your breath as he leads you to the elevator. “Baby shower gifts. Please.”

“What? You don’t want a shower?”

“I just don’t know who would put it together; I don’t really have the time.”

Robby scoffs, “As if either of us could physically stop the nurses from throwing one now that the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Good point,” you concede, trying to suppress the smile that won’t stop threatening your cheeks.

Maybe it’s just luck or maybe it’s the presence of one of the hospital’s more important doctors standing behind you, but you’re in the exam room with Robby holding your hand within a few minutes of checking in. The OB attending, Dr. Montgomery, arrives shortly after your vitals are taken.

She’s borderline glaring after she greets you and extends a hand to Robby. “Dr. Robinavitch, good to see you back at the hospital after so long away.”

“Good to be back,” he replies carefully, shaking her hand. “I’m guessing you’ve been given a harsh but fair view of me the past few months.”

“That would be an accurate assessment, doctor.”

Robby does that thing where he kind of hunches his broad shoulder to seem smaller and more approachable. It’s what he does when he’s hiding from Gloria or talking to a little old lady with chlamydia. He insists, “Call me Michael, please.”

“We’ll see.”

You snicker, “Addie, I promise he’s putting the work in.”

“Fine. Claws away while we say hi to baby girl.” Dr. Montgomery preps the ultrasound station as you get your clothes tucked out of the way. As she applies the warmed gel and manuevers the wand, she tells you, mostly addressing Robby since he wasn’t there for the other appointments, “She was a little small at our last scan, so I’m gonna take a few extra measurements to track her progress.”

Robby nods slowly and stares at the back of the ultrasound monitor like he can see through it and gather information. “Has there been anything else on the scans I need to know about?”

You gaze up at him while Dr. Montgomery takes her notes. “Nope, she’s been a total champ. I’m the problem between the two of us.”

Robby strokes your hair with his other hand; you can tell it’s more to soothe himself than you, so you let him. “What does that mean?”

You lean into his touch unconsciously and reply, “I’m just anemic; I passed out early on. That’s how I found out I was pregnant in the first place.”

Guilt skewers Robby like an ice pick. “You’re taking iron now?”

You roll your eyes. “And eating spinach and letting handsome baby daddies buy me burgers.”

Robby’s ensuing smile is cute and proud. Dr. Montgomery looks up from the ultrasound and happily announces, “Baby girl’s growth has gotten much better since your last vosot. She’s no longer small for her gestational age and is now firmly average. Good work, mom. Have you been adding more protein and healthy fats to your diet like I suggested?”

When Robby opens his mouth to speak, you narrow your eyes at him an say, “Michael Robinavitch I will strangle you right now with my bare hands if you say ‘I told you so.’”

He chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze. “I would never. I’m just glad to hear our girl’s healthy – and not a bowling ball. I was 11 pounds.”

You cringe at the thought. “Lucky she takes after me on that front.”

So softly it sounds more like a prayer, Robby asks, “Can we see her now?”

Flipping the monitor around with a smile, Dr. Montgomery replies, “Yeah, of course. There’s her side profile; she’s perfectly posed for us. I’ll turn on the doppler, too.”

Robby leans forward and looks at the screen. Something cracks open in his chest as the baby’s heartbeat fills the room, whooshing fast and steady. He lets out a tiny, barely audible whimper. Your eyes fly up to his and you see the tears flooding down his pink cheeks as he gazes at his daughter wriggling around on the monitor.

You squeeze his hand and he gasps a tiny bit like he just remembered you’re there. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She’s perfect,” he breathes softly. Then he presses his lips to the top of your head and takes a trembling breath. Even his softest whisper trembles. “How could I ever leave you? I can’t believe I let myself miss this. You’re so fucking perfect. So strong. I love you so much.”

Tears thicken your throat as you lean up to press your forehead to his, sniffling out, “Mikey.”

He starts to cry in earnest, then, and you reach up to hold him. Your arms tangle together and your tears stain each other’s shoulders and there’s nothing but future in the places where your bodies touch.

Things get easier between you and Robby after that. You find yourself asking him for more and more trivial things just to see him and hear his voice. Your phone calls turn from a few sentences to a few minutes to an hour or more if you catch each other at a good time. He takes you shopping for baby clothes and even pretends to have an opinion about different fabrics when you ask. He stocks up on diapers, helps with your labor go bag, and does absolutely everything in his power to take the mental load off your shoulders.

From that new closeness, a quiet tension emerges. As you reach week 32 of your pregnancy, the shared knowledge of your needing to move hangs over you both, unspoken but omnipresent. Robby hasn’t pushed the issue yet, but you know it’s going to reach a tipping point.

That day comes during the worst rainstorm of the year one gloomy day in October. It’s your day off, so you’re treating yourself to a shopping spree when the rain starts. The forecast had only been for a light drizzle, so you were comfortable leaving the apartment in something cozy with an umbrella and rain boots. But the light drizzle turned torrential while you were inside a baby boutique on the other side of town.

Meanwhile, the heavy, dark, oppressive thunderstorm has the ED swamped. All the attendings are on staff to handle the onslaught of car accidents, falls, and asthma attacks. As he’s supervising Mohan’s work on an elderly woman’s obliterated tibia, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

While closing another line of sutures, Samira asks over her shoulder, “Is that mama?”

Robby slips his phone out just long enough to check. “Shit, yes, it is. She wouldn’t call me during weather like this if it wasn’t important. Do you mind if I-”

Mohan chuckles, “I think Mrs. Frost and I have this handled. Go save your woman from her aching feet or lack of chocolate bars.”

Robby gives the patient an apologetic smile and excuses himself. He ducks around the nearest quiet-ish corner where the hospital’s chaos lowers to a dull roar and manages to pick up right before it goes to voicemail. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?”

He can hear you crying on the other side, the sound barely coming through the rain. “Can you come pick me up?”

Robby half-jogs toward the locker room, already stripping off his trauma gown and dodging questions from his fellow doctors as he goes. “Where are you?”

“A bus stop in East Liberty,” you sniffle out. “The buses are all delayed because of the weather and I tried to get ahold of Trinity but she didn’t pick up and I’m soaking wet and freezing and I can’t-”

“Breathe for me, honey. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Robby can hear the shivering and the tears and the panic in your voice and his gut clenches up in pain. He spares a glance outside and sees that the rain is still a deluge, the clouds dark and murky above and the ground shiny and slick with oil leeching out below. Lightning strikes and thunder claps. “Which bus stop?”

As you tell him, he dumps his trauma gown, rummages through his things, and grabs his keys and his gym bag, which at least has a towel and some dry clothes. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay? Is there somewhere warm and dry you can wait for me?”

“I- I don’t know. I’m all frazzled,” you admit. He can feel your reluctance to tell him, but you can’t stop it from spilling out through the crackling rain. “There was this guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, asking all these gross questions about my boyfriend or whatever and I just ran to the closest public spot I could find.”

Anger flares in Robby’s chest. He scribbles out a note and hands it to Dana as he passes the nurse’s station, barely pausing to see her reaction – just long enough to see her annoyed but supportive nod – before he shoves out of the door into the rain. “Are you alone now? Are you safe?”

“I’m okay, just- just kinda scared and tired and- and-”

“Breathe, baby, breathe. I’m getting in the car right now.”

A few beats pass with nothing but the rain in Robby’s ears. Then your meek, nervous voice: “Would you stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course.” He guns the engine and peels out of the parking lot, careful but quick. “I’m right here with you. Just keep talking and the time’ll pass. Tell me about what you were doing. Shopping for something fun?”

“Yeah, I was.” You sniffle again and try to smile. “I bought this, um, this handmade baby wrap carrier thing. It’s really soft and, like, this quilted fabric that I think would be really comfy for her.”

“You gonna teach me how to baby wear like all the hip dads are doing?”

“Definitely.” You actually let out a small laugh as you tell him, “The whole ‘big man carrying baby’ thing is very sexy. I’m sure it’ll help you pick up chicks at the grocery store.”

Robby snorts. “You know perfectly well there are only two chicks I’m interested in picking up the rest of my life.

“Rest of your life, huh?”

“If they’ll have me.” He makes a turn and spots you huddling beneath a leaky bus stop shelter. “Alright, I’m only a minute away now, but I might be late because I have to stop and offer the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen a ride, okay? She’s soaking wet and very pregnant and dressed inappropriately for the weather.” Robby pulls up to the curb and pushes your door open as he hangs up the phone. “Hey, stranger, can I give you a lift?”

You slide into the car next to him, your eyes puffy from crying and your hair disastrous from the rain. As you buckle in, you pout and observe, “You turned on the seat warmers for me.”

“I also brought you a threadbare towel and a hoodie; I’m a real gentleman,” he replies as he opens up his gym bag in the backseat and hands them off.

Gratefully toweling off your hair and tucking yourself under the hoodie, you smile and nudge him. “Yeah, actually, you are.”

Robby gives your knee a quick squeeze and pulls the car into traffic, heading back toward the highway. You gradually begin to feel like a person instead of a pregnant popsicle.

Teeth still chattering a bit, you manage to get out, “I’m sorry for interrupting you at work; I’m sure things are swamped there.”

Despite the fact that his phone’s been ringing non-stop since he left, Robby replies earnestly, “Nothing’s more important to me than your safety.” He swallows hard and apologizes for himself, “I’m sorry for calling you baby on the phone; I wasn’t thinking. I heard you upset and I just went on autopilot.”

You tell him softly, “It’s okay, Michael.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it really is,” you murmur back. “You missed the exit, by the way.”

Robby shakes his head. “I’m taking you back to my place; you need a warm bath and a hot meal and to sleep for twelve hours uninterrupted in a king size bed.”

You avert your eyes and admit, “That sounds really nice, Mikey.”

“I like hearing you call me that again,” he says gently. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by ordering me some orange chicken while I take a bubble bath.”

Robby chuckles, “Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as Robby has you inside, he’s helping you strip your exhausted, pruny body and drawing you a silky bath. As he collects some of his old comfy clothes for you to wear from his closet, you call out from the tub, “Would you actually make that matzo ball soup that you made when you gave me mono?”

“I did not give you mono,” he laughs, “but I will absolutely make you some nourishing comfort food.”

He can hear the teasing eye roll in your voice as you call back, “You had mono. You made out with me. I then had mono. Who the hell do you think I got it from?”

“Alright, whatever.” Robby sets down the clothes on the counter and points at you seriously. “Don’t you dare try to get out of that tub without my help, missy. I’ll be back once I’ve got the soup boiling.”

You smile at him fondly and bat your eyelashes. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t play dirty with me.”

“I would never.” You sink deeper into the bubbles and sigh contentedly, “I’m more than happy to stay in here and turn myself into a little matzo ball.”

He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Good girl.”

“Now who’s playing dirty?”

“I would never.”

Robby slips out of the bathroom and you just…relax. While Robby takes care of you. While he waits on you.

God.

God.

Between the bubbles and the bergamot bath oil, the tension and nerves leave. The sound of the storm outside becomes white noise. From downstairs, the smell of rich schmaltzy chicken broth wafts into your nose and you feel settled. Held. By the time Robby returns to the bathroom, you know, deep down in your bones, that you’ve forgiven him.

Robby helps you out of the tub and wraps you up in a fluffy robe he must’ve been warming in the dryer for you. Then he grabs a tube of lotion, sits down on the bed, and gestures for you to join him. While he tends to your feet and legs, he pleads with you, “Move in here, sweetheart, please. I can’t- I can’t function not knowing if you’re okay. Not knowing where the baby’s going to be sleeping and not knowing if I can be there for her and for you and-”

“Michael.” It’s a whisper, a tender one at that. “I don’t want to feel like I’m trying to fit into your life.”

“I don’t want to make you feel that way; I swear.” He kisses your hand a few times and then takes a deep breath. “I’d like to apologize now. If you’d let me.”

You nod slowly and try to ignore the tears that rise to your waterline. “I’m ready. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” After a deep breath, Robby starts, “Look, I’m not going to apologize for leaving. I needed to leave. I needed to-” He gestures wide and begging as he searches for the right words. “I needed to grow up. I know I’m a little old for that, but I think it’s the closest thing to true. I’m sorry I told you instead of talking it through. I’m sorry I went radio silent. But honestly?” 

Suddenly he reaches out and cups your cheek in his large hand. His palm is warm and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. With his thumb stroking your skin, he finishes, “What I’m the most sorry for is that I didn’t ask you to come with me. Every sunset, every motel mattress, every wide open highway would’ve been so much better if I shared them with you.”

He presses his forehead to yours and murmurs, “I swear I’ll spend every single one with you from now on. I’ll be there for every birthday, every Chrismukkah, every fucking thing you want me at. Nothing has ever or will ever matter to me more than being your husband. The father of our children. So tell me what you want. Tell me every single thing you want for you and for me and for the baby and you’ll have it. Because I love you more than my stupid bike and more than my career and more than everything I’ve ever had. You are everything now.”

The air sparks like the lightning outside. For a full minute, it’s you and it’s Robby and it’s the storm.

Then you lean forward. You hold Robby’s face with both hands and search his golden brown eyes. His heart pounds in his ears. His lungs are tight and screaming.

And you kiss him.

It’s slow, so gentle, and he’s holding his breath. Then reality seems to settle softly on his shoulders and he smiles against your lips, slides his hands onto your waist, thumbs affectionate on your bump, and kisses you back. When you pull away only slightly, you inform him, “I want a house with a yard. One that I get a say in. Further from the city. I want a safe, sensible family car for myself. No black interior. Light brown. I want a big fat diamond ring. Four carats minimum. I want sex at least three times a week. Six orgasms for me as a baseline. And I want a husband who works at most 50 hours.”

Robby gazes at you with watery eyes. “Okay.”

You smack him on the chest and laugh, “‘Okay’? I was trying to be unreasonable, Michael!”

“Well I’m being serious. Let’s move to the suburbs and have a huge wedding and fuck whenever you want. I’ve got savings to get us through as long as we need. I’ll start my own practice, slow down, buy a grill, join the PTA, the whole nine yards.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” he assures seriously. “If you’re taking me back and making me a dad, you can be a hell of a lot more unreasonable than asking me to put my family first.”

“Fine.” You cross your arms over your chest and try not to grin. “I want a puppy.”

Robby grips his heart like you’ve stabbed him. “If you really want one – when the baby’s old enough that I won’t have a panic attack having a dog around her.”

“Deal.” You rest your forearms on his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “I want you to mow the lawn shirtless on Saturday mornings.”

He melts under your touch and smiles. “Okay.”

You lean in closer, a smile of your own breaking out. “And I want my own craft room in the house.”

Glancing down at your lips, he promises once again, “Okay.”

“I want a hot tub.”

“Okay.”

“And a soaking tub.”

“Okay.”

“Manicures every other week. A tropical vacation every summer. Two more babies in the next ten years.”

“Okay, okay-” he kisses you again, soft and warm and unhurried “-very okay.”

Your hand slides down his chest and toys with the hem of his tee. You watch his stomach twitch and his chest gasp upwards as you purr, “And I want you to fuck me. Right now.”

Robby’s lips return to yours. Urgent now. He pulls you into his lap and drags kisses up your neck, tasting your clean skin and your pulse beneath him. His breath is hot and his every touch – slipping the robe from your shoulders, lazing his fingers along your arms, kissing the shell of your ear – is an act of worship. At last, he murmurs against your lips, “Okay.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, one of those breathy, exhausted ones that you’d grown accustomed to since working here.

“Peachy”

His eyes, so naturally sad, saddened even more as he huffed, hesitating a moment before locking the door and moving to sit beside you.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Your eyes panned from the lock to him.

The question was out before you could even think to ask it.

“We’re adults,” he stared at the floor.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “And what about all the people out there who know we’re locked in a bathroom together?”

He shook his head, sighing loudly, “We’re two coworkers taking a much-needed break.”

“Right,” you murmured, “You’re not the one everyone says is fucking their boss anyway”

He looked up then- and you both learned he was much too close.

“Is someone bothering you?”

“no- not to my face at least”

A beat passed.

“I... I’m sorry y/n”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes “Good to know”

You went to stand up when his fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait-I-” He was looking up at you like one would look asking a queen for mercy. “Please... stay”

You shouldn’t have to.

Not after the past week.

And yet you were sitting down again.

“I really am sorry y/n”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“For what? For kissing me or for acting like a jackass for a week after?”

“I-” his head fell to his hands, fingers gripping his own hair to try and ground himself- to try and figure out what to say.

He’d fucked up. A lot.

“That...” he started, his eyes finally finding yours again. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah, no shit”

“And... and I’m sorry for how I acted.” Solemnity traced his voice, “I was- I was...”

“An asshole”

“Yeah”

Today was the first day he had resumed talking to you.

Just about seven days after everyone had already figured out something had happened, seeing as your attending appeared to go out of his way to avoid you and seemed incapable of even looking you in the eyes.

Seven days after walking out on you, spewing some afraid bullshit about not being able to do that kind of stuff when his taste still lingered on your lips.

“I wasn’t thinking,” his words bordered on whispered now. “It’s your first year here, and I’m your attending and... I messed everything up”

“Yep”

There was the part both of you were conveniently choosing to forget about- the part where you didn’t stop him when he kissed you.

“I-I’m old” he went on, “Too old for you”

“right”

“And I just...”

“What?”

Something happened then, a little something cracked, and for the quickest moment, his gaze fell to your lips.

“Fuck-”

Your heart was beating much too fast for this to be appropriate.

“What, Dr. Robinavitch?”

“This wasn’t a good idea”

“I tried telling you.”

You realized then that his hand was still on your wrist, and it felt as if his touch turned scorching hot.

“You should go” your voice was nothing but a thread.

His labored breathing fanned against your face.

“I should”

The air thickened, and the world went silent.

“Dr-” you tried to speak, but his lips were already on yours.

A mix of shock and the simplest purest joy exploded inside of you as you closed your eyes.

It all happened so fast, one second you were sitting down and the next he was all over you.

His hand gripped the back of your head, forcing the kiss to grow deeper and deeper until he was basically just devouring you while his other hand remained firmly on your waist.

His beard stroked your skin, and when a soft moan climbed up your throat, he was guiding you down to the floor.

That was until you remembered-

“Bathroom-” you managed to get out as he groaned frustratedly, trying to resume the kiss. “Bathroom floor— gross”

It took a second, but then it finally clicked, and he leaned away.

“Shit-right, right”

Even as he spoke, his eyes were unfocused, he was completely lost in whatever overcame him.

Silence wrapped around you for a moment- you stared speechless into each other’s eyes until he finally spoke up.

“Standing up?” was all he could come up with.

And somehow it worked because a beat after he was pinning you against the wall, forcing one of your legs around his waist so he could grope your ass while his tongue delved into your mouth as if you’d done this a billion times.

You both weren’t thinking anymore.

He was just going with his most basic instincts, which right about now were imploring him to get rid of all your clothes and get inside you as quickly as possible.

In that position, you couldn’t help but grind against his bulge, whimpering lowly at the feeling... and that was it.

Your pants and panties were at your ankles before you could blink. He picked you up and you akwardly stuggled to free one of your legs from the scrubs until you could finally wrap your legs around him.

He hadn’t stopped kissing you for even a moment, not even as he freed himself from his pants, not even when his naked cock could finally slide against your wet heat.

You were holding onto his shoulder with your left hand, while your right gripped his locks as you desperately tried to wiggle him inside of you.

“Please,” you finally broke, “Please, Dr. Robby.”

He pulled away with a growl, “Michael-” he muttered, his gentle brown eyes so very out of it “fuck- call me Michael when I’m about to be inside you, please.”

You were about to combust.

You needed him now, no matter whatever his fucking name was.

“Please, Michael- please, I-I need it-” You didn’t have the time to finish your sentence because he’d already granted your wish.

You both moaned way too fucking loud, and he made a point to crush your lips with his to try and stifle the cries as he retracted his hips and thrust all the way inside you.

Jesus Christ he was big.

He didn’t even give you a chance to adjust, he just started drilling you like a man possessed, making your body slide up against the cold wall with each and every push.

You greedily swallowed every single one of his frantic groans as you started meeting his movements.

“Fuck” he breathed, his nose caressing your cheek as he murmured against the corner of your mouth “You feel so fucking good”

“Oh my god,” was all you could whine, your breathing erratic, “fuck you’re huge”

That earned you a very whiny groan and a look that he hoped said “please don’t say shit like that again or I’m gonna come way too soon”

With that, he picked up his pace, burying his head into your neck while kissing and biting all the skin he encountered.

“Jesus-fuck” he murmured incoherently.

His cock was so deep inside of you, you could feel it in your belly, while his beard rubbed against your skin like a tease, and you tried- you really did- not to moan so loud, but the spot he was hitting was one you weren’t even aware of having.

“I need you to be quiet, baby.”

Jesus fucking Christ

“I-I know” you whimpered, biting your lip “You just... you feel so-”

“I know” he cooed, his mouth ghosting yours as one of his devious hands reached in between your bodies and two of his fingers found your clit. “I know baby, I know.”

He really was not helping.

Your mouth opened in a silent gasp as he started circling your bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck” you squeaked, looking at the lust and desire blanketing his eyes “Fuck-”

“Shh” he cooed as if he wasn’t thrusting his cock into you with all his strenght “Just let it happen baby” he instructed “Come for me”

And so you did.

A wave of pure pleasure coursed through you as your face fell between his shoulder and neck, and you stifled your desperate cries against his skin.

“Goddamn it” you barely heard him curse as you squeezed him so tight he could die.

He was still going, letting you ride out your high as fireworks exploded all over inside your body. But the way you were moaning, and the way your walls were squeezing him... he didn’t stand a chance to get out in time.

“Fuck baby-fuck”

You didn’t even realize you’d cried his name, but he certainly had.

He came with a much too loud grunt, burying himself inside of you as he spilled all of his seed deep into your heat.

Silence wrapped around you two as you stayed like that, trying to catch your breath and to wrap your head around what just happened.

That was until a knock at the door broke the spell.

“Dr. Robby, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a trauma coming in in 5’!”

Even from the other side of the door, you both could hear the grin on Dana’s face.

He sighed, raising his head to look at you, and for some reason, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Jesus” he shook his head.

“Yeah” a soft laugh escaped you.

“I-” he opened his mouth to speak only to realize he had no clue what to say.

“Go” you cut him off, “they need you.”

He still didn’t move.

He didn’t know how, but he wanted you to know this wasn’t like last time.

“We’ll talk later” you murmured, kissing the tip of his nose. Those words held a promise you both needed. He wasn’t gonna shut you out- not again.

“We will” he nodded, finally helping you to the floor.

Your legs felt like jelly, but you managed to stay up and started to try and make yourself presentable again.

He was staring at you as he tucked himself back in his pants, and a smirk pulled at your lips as you caught him placing a hand on his back while trying to hide a grimace.

“Too much of a workout for you, old man?”

A little grin appeared on his lips as he shrugged.

“Worth it.”

You bit down a chuckle, eyeing him for a beat before getting back to reality.

“I need to... clean myself up” you said. “You should get going.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” he remembered, “I should help”

“It’s ok, I’m on the pill.” You laughed softly, shaking your head,“And I can manage fine on my own Dr. Robby,” you smiled, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Right,” he swallowed dryly, still unable to get his eyes off of you, “I should...”

“Yes, you should,” you eyed the door.

When he still didn’t move, you took a step closer, pressing your lips on his for a quick, chaste kiss that somehow felt more intense than anything you’d done in the past 20 minutes.

ROBBY X READER(S)

daddy's favourite — smut — Out of all the Pittlings you are Robby’s favourite and the others love to tease you about it, but what happens when they're right?

john carter... i know him — upon returning to the ED Robby is surprised to find not only the ED not up in flames but you have a new someone on your arms. er cross over!

hard to get — smut — you and Trinity decide you've had enough of being the casual booty call, agreeing to play hard to get to prove to your partners you can go without them. easier said then done

cabin fever — smut — when you get a phone call from robby at 2 am when he's supposed to be sabotical your mind kicks you into all the horror stories. when he doesnt pick up when you try to call him back what choice do you have but to drive across states to get to him

bet on it — you and Robby had been going steady for a few months now but when a betting board is made on who your mysterious male friend could be, Robby is not happy with the outcome.

camera on me, baby — smut — robby's going away and he's very worried about his two singular house plants and mail, so he's asked you to house sit. he gave you keys and the lay out of the neighbours, he maybe just forgot to mention one tiny detail. the cameras in almost every room

lights, camera, action! — smut — robby went away hoping to catch peace in his three months get away but he caught sight of something else instead. now he's coming back after watching you for months over a camera, desperate for the real thing but what you don't know won't hurt you, right?

tear in my heart — you and Robby have always had an un-spoken understanding, that if you were two different people you'd fall in love. but he was a mess and refused to bring you down. so instead, fate threatens to take you away forever

ladybug — hi fell in love with your portrayal of dr. robby is it okay for me to request for dr. robby’s attending! wife and the early signs of pregnancy before she decided to take a test? (like falling asleep while doing charts or over a casual conversation hehe) request!

the kids aren't alright — Robby wants to take you- his beautiful wife- on a romantic get away, he forgets about the knuckleheads that means leaving at home

hurt forever — Robby req. Where him and reader had a fling for a while. She eventually wanted more, he was content with the non commitment, which she ended it over. Fast forward, she's getting married soon, new guy is out of town (if it was park it would add a little flair but you do you). Robby show up at her doorstep, which they end up sleeping together one last time, your choice if she regrets it or not. request!

i love you, i love you, i love you — Robby is known to speak before he thinks sometimes, but when the cost of his words is losing you, he’d rather die

JACK X READER(S)

always go older — smut — a patient tells you older is always better, Jack wants to know if you can confirm that.

take care of you — jack really wants to take care of you, you're really not used to that feeling, but when an accident has you in harms way and rattles jack more than you, you have little choice but to accept how he feels about you. (I want to take care of you- it's rotten work- not to me, not if its you) type.

J over my heart — hi again(im gonna be so annoying with this). i had some voices whisper into my ear about a shared tattoo with jack abbott and wife(pediatrics doctor?) reader? reader and jack having two tattoos. one that everyone would see and the other where only the two of them would. and what if, their marriage is like not known to everyone except for Robby and Dana(?hehehe) request!

softer, harder, in between — you and Jack have always been two peas in a pod, working the ER together, on the field together, no wonder you started to search for those dark eyes and damning smirk. and you thought for a second, just for a second, he might be searching for you too, until you hear the man you're crushing on airing out everything he hates about you

RABBOT X READER(S)

READER POV

You were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

The blonde man standing at the other end of the aisle could not possibly be Johnny Storm. Your Johnny Storm.

Well he wasn’t exactly yours. He was your crush in middle school and then in the ninth grade, your childhood best friend. But your dad’s job moved you across the country that summer. You and Johnny shared a dramatic goodbye, only to lose touch shortly after that.

Now, living in New York over a decade later, you knew what he had been up to. But that’s only because the entire world knew what the Fantastic Four had been up to. There were many nights where you almost reached for the phone, but you didn’t know what to say. “Saw the news, are you okay?” “What’s it like bursting into flames and soaring through the sky?” Then, you moved to New York and you thought about it again.

But you always came to the same conclusion, there was no way Johnny Storm remembered you. You were just a first love, if it was even that.

You were currently staring at him in the small record shop tucked on Jane Street in the West Village, mostly trying to figure out what he was doing all the way down here. You knew he lived in the Baxter Building, all the way in midtown on the east river. So why was here? Would he recognize you?

He looked devilishly handsome. His jeans were perfectly fit, his jacket cropped enough so that you could tell how tight his tshirt fit, his blonde hair was tousled in a hot way, and his sunglasses made him somehow look even hotter.

Your name being said broke you from your thoughts, making you nearly jump.

Then the laugh came, it was deeper than you remembered, but it was still the same, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He took a few steps closer to you and you shook your head, “you didn’t scare me, sorry if I was staring, it’s just been a while, I can’t believe you recognized me.”

He was smiling now too, looking at you like he was studying you, “you look the same, better even.”

You immediately blushed, and then became embarrassed that his simply words were having such an effect on you.

“So, what’re you doing here? Last I checked you were out in Cali,” he leaned his hip against the table holding all the used records, looking effortlessly flawless.

“Um yeah, I moved here a little over a year ago for work, and have been sticking it out ever since,” you tilted your head, trying to get a better look at him.

He slid his sunglasses on to the top of his head, finally showing you his beautiful blue eyes, the same eyes you used to gawk at as a thirteen year old.

He suddenly glanced at his watch, eyes slightly widened with panic, “listen, I have to go, I’m totally late and Sue is gonna kill me.”

You smiled, “no worries, it was great seeing you.”

He took a deep breath, “would it be crazy to ask for your number?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “no it wouldn’t.”

He took his phone out and handed it to you, you typed in your number, hoping he couldn’t notice that your hands were shaking with nerves.

He took it back from you, “great, it’ll be nice to uh, catch up.”

Before you could respond he was sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes and running out the door.

You were left utterly shocked and completely aware that your crush on Johnny Storm never fully went away.

JOHNNY POV

It couldn’t possibly be her. He was flipping through the pile of records without even really looking at them. He saw her when he walked in. The bell above the door rang and he threw the cashier an easy smile. Johnny had a solid fifteen minutes to kill before he had to fly up town for his team meeting, and he thought why not look for that new record. As he stopped at the first bin, he noticed the girl with headphones on. Her hair a slightly different color than the last time he saw her, but her eyes, god her eyes were exactly the same.

He could feel the heat surge through him in a panic, so what did he do? He started flipping through records without even actually reading them. He wrapped his mind around how to handle this situation while keeping his cool. The minutes ticked, and that’s when he felt her gaze shift slightly to him.

He was rushed with the memory of saying goodbye to you. It was late August, school would be starting soon and he would be starting without you. The humidity stuck to him in an uncomfortable way, but he was thankful that the sweat masked his tears. Everyone had said you were both being dramatic, that two fifteen year olds could not actually need each other this much. But when he hugged you goodbye and spared you one last glance before you hopped in your parents car to move, he couldn’t help but feel like a part of him drove away with you.

He finally worked up the courage to say your name, and once it left his lips, he couldn’t take it back.

He didn’t want to leave, in fact he would sit here and try to make you smile all day if he could, but he has your number now, and you would definitely be hearing from him. As he flamed on and flew across the city, he couldn’t help but think about you. How you looked older, but in a beautiful way. Your curves couldn’t have looked better in your dress, your hair cut flattering and extenuating your face, you looked better than he ever could imagine.

Before he knew it, he was landing on the balcony of the Baxter Building. Sue was waiting there, Franklin bouncing on her hip.

”You’re late” she said flatly. Franklin reached his arms out and Johnny happily took him from Sue.

“I know, but Sue, I saw someone today,” he told her like a little kid that had just met their favorite superhero. He was awestruck.

“Johnny we all see people all the time—“

He cut her off by saying your first and last name. The mention of it made her jaw drop. And then she smirked up at him, “well, I’ll be damned. That girl you cried over for like six months.”

She turned and walked into the building where Reed and Ben were waiting. Johnny trailed her, still holding a babbling and giggling Franklin.

Johnny scoffed, “it was not six months.”

Sue smirked again, “sure Johnny.”

“Sue.” He said firmly.

She hummed in response.

“Remember when I told you she was the love of my life when I was fifteen?” He asked.

She nodded, biting back a laugh at his theatrics.

“Well. I was right. And now I’m going to have to get her to fall in love with me again.” He said confidently.

“I'm sorry, who are we talking about?” Ben asked, waving a rocky hand in the air to get Johnny’s attention.

“None of your business Benjamin, and you’ll know soon enough. When you’re standing next to me. At our wedding,” Johnny smiled.

Ben rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath.

“At your wedding?” Sue pressed.

“Mmhmm,” Johnny replied.

“Let’s start the meeting before he starts talking about hypothetical children,” Reed said, interrupting.

Everyone sat down at the table and started discussing experiments and crime analytics, but all Johnny could focus on was how he was going to woo you.

READER POV

You basically skipped the whole way home. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, just letting muscle memory guide you.

There was a goofy smile on your face and you thanked god that no one is New York cared about things like that.

The text from Johnny came less than an hour later.

Unknown: I know we just saw each other, but I have a feeling waiting three days to ask you out would be a mistake.

Before you even finished reading it, another message popped up. You typed his name in, that way there was no risk of losing his number.

Johnny: Dinner? Friday? I'll plan everything.

You stared at the screen for far longer than necessary before smiling to yourself, biting your cheek to hide the emotion.

You: I'd like that.

You flopped onto your bed like a school girl, was it a date? Were you being insane? Now you just had to make it to Friday.

FRIDAY

JOHNNY POV

Johnny Storm has saved the world more times than he could count.

Planning one date, however, was proving to be his greatest challenge. He used his name to make reservations at the nicest rooftop restaurant in Manhattan.

He hired a driver to start the evening, and even put on trousers as opposed to his usual jeans. He was so nervous. Johnny Storm was never this nervous, especially about a date.

But he knew he was going to knock this out of the park.

He didn’t realize the universe had other plans.

READER POV

The evening started wonderfully.

Johnny showed up with flowers, leaning casually against a black car that was fancier than anything you had ever sat in. The flowers looked like they'd been picked and curated perfectly rather than bought.

“You remembered,” you smiled.

“You always used to say you liked the wildflower field by the middle school,” he shrugged, trying to act casual.

You stared at him, “You remember that?”

Everything went south approximately twenty-three minutes later.

The restaurant called while you were in the cab.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Storm, we've had to close for the evening,” the lady said nervously.

Johnny frowned, “uhhh what happened?”

“There appears to be...a hole in our roof,” she said it tentatively, like she knew how ridiculous it sounded.

He hung up the phone and turned to you, “luckily I have a back up, because nothing can stop us from having a good night.”

You smiled at him, “we really don’t need to do anything crazy. I'm just happy to be here, catching up with you.”

Plan B was a jazz club, but halfway there, alarms erupted down the block.

Johnny sighed, “oh you've got to be kidding me.”

A very obviously stolen armored truck came barreling through an intersection.

He looked at you apologetically, slipping his jacket off and leaving his sunglasses in the care seat, “give me sixty seconds.”

“You know,” you called after him, “most guys fake emergencies to get out of dates.”

“Not an excuse sweetheart, I’ll be right back!” He shouted as he flamed on.

Exactly four minutes and twelve seconds later, he landed beside you with soot on his cheek and one sleeve singed.

“So uh, did I impress you yet?” He said as he caught his breath.

You laughed, “we’re definitely off to a unique start.”

The traffic ahead of you was relentless, but finally an hour later they found themselves in a tiny dive bar tucked beneath the skyrises that lined Manhattan.

The sign outside only had half its lights working. When you walked in, the bartender nodded to the booth in the corner and Johnny thanked him. A few seconds later he brought two beers.

A jukebox hummed softly in the corner. It didn’t really matter where you were, because you were with him. If fourteen year old you knew you were on a date with him she would’ve screamed.

The first three beers went down easily, you enjoyed each others company more than you even remembered doing so. It was like fitting two puzzle pieces together at the end of it all, and seeing the beautiful picture you had been waiting for.

You told him all about work, what brought you to New York. Your roommate horror story, and why you live in a studio now. And you finally got the chance to ask how he was after everything that happened.

He was a little thrown by your question, “no one has ever really asked me that.” He said it softly, with a small smile, just happy you cared.

“I’m sorry,” he said, after the bartender brought you a basket of fries.

You looked over at him, which wasn’t hard considering you were tucked in a booth, “for what?”

“I wanted tonight to be,” he gestured vaguely, “perfect.”

“It was,” you said simply. You took a long sip from the beer you had resting between your hands.

He blinked, “no I don’t think it was.”

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” you held his gaze, “it was just nice, I don’t know being… friends again. It was always so easy with you, even when we were young.”

He looked slightly upset by your words, but he quickly bounced back, “yeah friends.”

You winced, not even realizing you had said it, “but I must admit, I always had such a big crush on you, so when you asked me to dinner, I couldn’t help but be a little giddy.”

His eyes widened slightly at the admission, “I always had a crush on you too. That’s why— when I saw you the other day, I thought that has to be fate.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Sue used to always make fun of me,” he rolled his eyes at the memory, “she said you would make me blush.”

You laughed softly, “yeah well, I can one up you. I wrote ‘Mrs. Johnny Storm’ on all my notebooks in fifth grade.”

He laughed impossibly hard at that, nearly spitting out his beer. You laughed so hard you had to wipe your eyes. He had you laughing all night, to the point where you knew your ribs would hurt tomorrow.

When you both finally settled down, you looked around the tiny bar.

An older couple danced beside the jukebox despite them being the only ones. A college kid was losing terribly at darts with his friends. The bartender was humming along to an old Fleetwood Mac song.

Then you looked back at Johnny, who was already looking at you.

His jacket was draped over your shoulders because you shivered once when you walked in and he insisted.

“You know what?” you said quietly.

“What?” He said, still holding your gaze.

“If everything had gone according to plan,” you paused, taking in his blue eyes, “I don't think I would've laughed nearly this much.”

His expression softened, “this has been fun. I haven’t laughed this hard in a really long time.”

“I’m having the best time,” you said softly.

His shoulders relaxed for the first time all evening. For a long moment neither of you spoke, just sitting in one another’s company.

Then Johnny moved, closed the tiny space between you, and cupped your face.

“I've wanted to kiss you since middle school and all those feelings came back the second I walked into that record store,” he said, breath fanning against your lips.

Your breath hitched, “so what's stopping you?”

Before either of you could say anything else, he closed the small space left between you and captured your lips in a soft kiss.

You had dreamt of kissing Johnny Storm for years and years and it was better than you ever imagined. He was so warm and his lips were softer than any man you’d ever kissed.

When you finally pulled away,he kept his hands on your face. Johnny smiled at you nervously.

“So, when’s our second date?” You said boldly.

He laughed and you bit your lip to hide your grin.

“I’m free tomorrow,” he smiled, “or for you, pretty much any day.”

You laughed at that, “tomorrow it is then.”

Two Years Later

JOHNNY POV

“So,” Ben said, adjusting his tie, “you're nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Johnny scoffed, immediately pulling his collar out from what Ben just fixed, “this tie is just choking me.

“You've checked your pocket for the ring six times,” Ben said knowingly.

Johnny checked his pocket again.

“Okay, make it seven times,” Ben added.

Sue laughed, “you've been carrying that ring around for three weeks.”

“Suzanne,” Johnny deadpanned, “what if the perfect moment arose?”

“There is no perfect moment,” Reed said.

“There is,” Johnny answered, “for her there is.”

It was a cool Friday night. The leaves had just started to change in New York. He sat outside your office, waiting for you to change into your favorite outfit before taking you on your surprise date.

The record shop hadn't changed. The bell above the door still jingled. The owner still nodded at you in recognition.

Johnny walked you to the same aisle where he'd first seen you again.

“You've been weird all day,” you teased, looking around, a little confused as to why Johnny told you to wear your nicest outfit to the record shop.

He sighed, “I know.”

“You've barely made a joke,” you said with a frown.

He didn’t say anything, he just took your hands in his.

“I used to think the luckiest day of my life was the day I got my powers,” he took a deep breath, “but it wasn’t.”

You smiled up at him, suddenly aware that the owner had slipped into the back and it was just you two.

He swallowed, “it was the day I met you.”

Your eyes immediately softened.

“And then I thought I lost you forever, I sulked for months when you moved,” he laughed quietly, “but apparently life just needed us to grow up first.”

He reached into his pocket, trying to steady himself and now show you his shaking fingers.

The music changed, it was soft and warm. The lights also flicked off and before you could question it, string lights that hung neatly from the ceiling were turned on all above you, casting a soft, gold hue all around you.

He lowered himself onto one knee.

“I loved you when we were kids,” a tear escaped down your cheek, “I fell in love with you all over again when I saw you standing right here. You've made every ordinary day since then feel extraordinary.”

He opened the ring box, exposing the largest diamond you had ever seen, “so,” he smiled through his own watery eyes, “how about we stop calling you my first love and let you be my last?”

You laughed through your tears, bringing both your hands to cover your mouth, “Johnny.”

He raised his eyebrows.

You moved your hands away from your face, letting out a wet laugh, “you haven’t asked me yet, honey.”

His eyes widened, “oh my god.”

He laughed too, “will you marry me?”

You didn't answer right away, you crouched down so that you were eye level with him,

“Yes,” then louder you repeated it, “a million times yes.”

Johnny slipped the ring onto your finger before pulling you into a crushing kiss.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled at him. You both stood up and kissed your forehead.

You intertwined your fingers with his, “come on, everyone is waiting for us at home.”

And together, laughing the whole way out the door, you stepped back onto Jane Street, exactly where your second chance had begun.

Tags (all): @ilocuras24 @nyxmoretti @kmc1989 @destinyg237

"Oh shit," you hear another voice approach from your left, Javadi resting her elbows on the desk you and Santos occupy.

"Yeah," you grumble, downing another sip like it's a shot. You wish it was. "Just another asshole wanting to get in my pants, only for him to care just about himself when I so stupidly let him."

You roll your eyes at yourself, your need for validation, any sort of affection taking over and picking these clowns against your better judgement.

"Classic," Javadi says, her own eyes rolling back, knowing all too well what you've been going through.

You've been able to bond with the newer staff in the past year over this, the trials and tribulations of your love lives. Whitaker joins in too sometimes, albeit against his will.

"You could always follow my lead," Santos suggests sarcastically. "Y'know, hook up with someone you work with in secret."

You stifle a chuckle, tipping your can back to your lips. You shake your head incredulously. "I can't believe those are my only options," you groan, your forehead falling to your hands.

"I just feel like there's nobody for me, you know?" You ponder aloud. "Like, if this is all that's out there, then I don't even know if it's even worth it? Ugh, that sounds so stupid and melodramatic," you massage your temples with your fingers, embarrassed by your out-flux of emotion.

"No, it's not," Javadi says in comfort. "I feel the same way sometimes. It's exhausting. These men- sorry, boys- have no idea what they're doing. All they care about is getting their dick wet."

You nod in agreement, another sardonic laugh escaping your lips. "Seriously," you mutter. "I don't even know why I keep trying. I have my vibrator, I might as well just use that for the rest of my life. At least those actually get me to finish."

Your heart stops, regretting your words immediately as you watch Santos' eyes widen, her posture stiff, a telltale sign that one of your superiors is behind you. You can only pray it's someone understanding, like Mohan or McKay.

Of course, you're not so lucky. You turn to find an achingly familiar navy hoodie, paired strong, veiny arms sticking out of the pockets.

Your face burns, your heart beating against your chest as you try to process that your boss, the senior attending partially responsible for your employment, just heard you talk about vibrators and orgasms.

"Sir," you breathe, unsure of what else to say.

His gaze flits to the ground the second yours finds him, and you swear you can make out just a bit of red on the apples of his cheeks.

He clears his throat, a hand coming up to the back of his neck before saying, "I can only assume this is not work related."

The look on his face is pointed, an awkward tension filling the space between you, the girls, and your boss. You shake your head, a pathetic, "sorrysir" spilling out of your mouth.

You watch him adjust on his feet, once again avoiding your gaze. He runs his finger in a circle, referencing the busy ER in which you stand.

"Get back to it," he huffs out, and the three of you scatter like he'd just dropped a bomb.

You flee with Javadi, your arm linking through hers as you keep your heads down, stifling giggles like school children.

"Oh. My. God," you breathe, embarrassment flooding through you like a tsunami.

You part ways when you make it to a turn in the hallway, splitting up to check on your respective patients, eager to run away from whatever just happened.

Hour eight comes and goes, as busy as ever. The only difference, though, is in the way Robby is treating you. Each bark of an order, every harsh correction like tiny needles pricking at the back of your neck.

It starts in triage, where you pop out to spot any incoming traffic. It feels nice, the fresh summer air wafting through the ambulence bay, a welcome contrast to the stuffiness of the ER.

You jump when the door opens behind you, Robby rubbing hand sanitizer into his skin. You avert your gaze, anywhere but the manipulation of his large hands. Santos' words from earlier ring in your head, 'just date someone you work with in secret.'

It feels ridiculous, thoughts of your senior attending ping ponging around your head. You feel dizzy at the consuming thoughts, unwilling to believe that this is where your disastrous dating life has led you- fantasizing about your senior attending while he's standing a foot away from you.

His closeness brings you back to life, the sharp exhale he exudes making you flinch. His eyes widen at your reaction, brows raising like he's waiting on you.

"Well? Did you hear me?" He asks, crossing his veiny forearms over his chest.

You will yourself to look away, your heart picking up speed at the flex of his muscles.

"I'm sorry, what was it?" You ask, your voice flighty and airy.

You fiddle with your hands, desperate to outrun this Molotov cocktail of embarrassment and desire. He's going to kill you by the end of this shift, you're convinced.

"I said," he starts, pointedly, "that you're staying with me for the rest of the day. Word on the street is that Pittsburgh Memorial is at max capacity. Something to do with a pile up on the service drive. So, you're on my team until you clock out," he grumbles into your ear.

His proximity stuns you, the deep growl of his voice crawling down your spine, settling low in your belly. A certain realization dawns on you, then, a chilling reality that settles deep in your bones.

Is this because of what he overheard earlier? Does he feel the need to keep an eye on you, so you don't go off embarrassing the team with your loud mouth? The possibility straightens your posture, tightens your jaw.

"Okay," you mumble, unable to meet his gaze. "We're on the first patient that comes through?"

You work up the courage to actually look at him, your gaze dragging along the scruff of his beard, the tint of gray weaknening your knees. An unsettling frustration rests at the base of your throat, threatening to burst through, to demand he says what's on his mind.

He just nods, though, his eyes trained on the entrance of the bay. Your breath comes out in short puffs, a fuzziness taking over as Robby's forearm grazes yours. The tickle of the hair on his body unzips a chill down your spine, so overpowering you have to close your eyes, to shake yourself out of this feeling.

He sees. You know he does. His gaze is peripheral, catching the way you react to him out of the corner of his eye. Though it's just a glance, it's enough to set your veins on fire, the want to reach out and touch him electrifying.

Silence blankets you, thick and suffocating. You rock on the balls of your feet, he wrings his hands together. You glance over at him again, unable to really keep your eyes off him for long. He doesn't look back, but his cheeks turn pink. You face foward once more, your lips curling into a smile.

The wail of an ambulance slices through the tension wafting through the bay, a wave of relief briefly washing over. You immediately snap into action, assessing the patient rolling in on the stretcher.

Robby is relentless in his questioning, and the world starts to spin around you as you flit from patient to attending, from asking to answering. Regardless of the familiar chaos, your stomach manages to flip at Robby's approval- the validation he gives at each right answer.

It's addictive, the way his brown eyes find yours, the subtle nod of his head. Time stops when he looks at you, you're convinced.

Once the patient is assessed and stabilized, you manage to document the patient's history and current symptoms without interruption.

You turn from the computer, looking over to see Robby, completely engaged with the patient. It's an older woman, a few years more so than Robby, who is putting on the ultimate display of charm. She's eating it up, as they all do.

You can't help but smile at the show, your heart speeding up in your chest. His ability to connect with those that are hurting, in pain, never ceases to amaze you. In moments like these, you remember why it is you decided to stay in emergency medicine. The teaching. The teacher, to be more specific.

A crash from the other side of the hallway pulls your attention away, and you whip your head around to see Langdon's hands full. He maneuvers around a stressed family, trying to care for his patient as best as he possibly can.

Without thinking, you take off to the other side of the room, putting on your best smile as you approach a teary mom, stressed father, and shy little girl.

"Hello!" You chirp, as cheerful as is appropriate when a family is watching their son be assessed in the ER. "I'm going to ask you give Dr. Langdon some space so he can work at the best of his ability. Please follow me and I can show you to our family room."

You start toward the exit, Langdon offering you a nod in thanks as you lead the family away from him. You catch Robby's gaze as you lead the family away, his teeth gritting at your disobedience. His eyes don't leave yours as you walk through the hospital, his cheeks glowing red like the human embodiment of anger.

You lead them through to the family room, your smile never leaving your face.

"Can I get you guys anything? Water, coffee, a snack?" You ask in the doorway. The gaunt father shakes his head, unable to look away from the tiled floors. You know this feeling, seen it many times in this room alone.

You turn to leave, when the mom speaks up, a tiny "uhm" leaving her lips. You stop on your heel, turning to her, your smile still there.

"Would you be willing to take Leah here for a snack?" She asks, referring to her daughter.

Your eyes find the little girl, a bunny stuffie clutched to her chest, a nervous thumb between her lips. Your heart softens at the sight, so you nod gently, offering your hand.

She only takes it when her mom gives her the okay, and she waddles to you dubiously. You take her hand in yours, offering her a soft greeting.

"Hello! It's so nice to meet you, Leah. Want to come see what snacks we have?" You ask, and can't help but giggle at her eager nod. "Okay, let's go, honeybun."

You lead her back into the ER, wavering through the chaos to get to the kitchen. You see Robby again on your way there, his eyes flitting to your new friend as you pass. His jaw does that tick again, though the rest of his face softens at the sight.

Annoyance flashes through his big brown eyes, frustration taking over his features. Your heart starts beating again, a rapid pitter pat against your ribcage. You keep your eyes forward, picking up your pace just slightly, as if you're escaping the flame of his gaze.

You shut the door once you're in the kitchen, and you stand on your tip toes to grab the kids' snacks that are stored in the top shelf. You lay out an array of goodies, from fruit snacks to Goldfish to Teddy Grahams.

Her eyes widen at the selection, the first smile you've seen from her curling her lips. You smile back, and she points at the fruit snacks.

"Good pick," you nod, opening the packet for her. "Here you go!"

She accepts the snack gratefully, munching on the gummy snack as she rests her head on the table. Poor thing, you think. Who knows how long she's been up.

The silence is cut by a tap on the glass window. You startle, causing Leah to sit up abruptly. You see that it's Dana, relaxing just slightly. You walk over to the door and pop your head out.

"Hey, what's up?" You ask.

"I'm takin' over with sweet girl over here. Get back to the boss man, he's not happy with ya," she tells you, and your heart sinks.

"Oh, okay," you open the door wider to let her in. "Hey, Leah," you start, and she looks up, her eyes widening at the new guest. "This is my friend Dana. She's going to be staying with you, okay? She's really nice. You guys will have fun with each other." You smile, turning to exit the kitchen.

"Mmph!" You muffle against cotton as you collide against a broad, rigid chest. "Jesus, Robby," you breathe out, taking a step to the side. Anything to escape the woody smell of his cologne.

He scoffs, the incredulous smile on his face flipping your stomach like a pancake. "Yeah, Jesus," he repeats, annoyance lacing his tone. "Find me in Exam Room 2 in five," he orders before stalking off.

You watch him walk, studying his frame as he saunters through the ER, using his broad shoulders to maneuver the crowd. It's pathetic, the way even his walk causes sweat to prick at your brow, your face heating with nerves. Curiosity pokes at your gut, Exam Room 2? It's a bizarre request from a senior attending, and you can only imagine how much trouble you've gotten yourself in.

You make your way to the exam rooms, your heart pounding louder with every step. You wring your hands together, the sweat accumulating there creating a slippery resistance. You let out a sigh as you reach the second room of the exam hallway, a green light indicating it's free usage.

You turn the knob, cracking it slightly to find Robby, hands on his head, facing the back wall. The door creaks as you push it open, and you clear your throat lightly to announce your presence. You press yourself against the door when it shuts, nerves so palpable you're surprised Robby can't feel it, can't taste it.

"Dr. Robby," you start, voice shaky, knowing he's about to hand you your ass. "I'm sorry I disobeyed your instruction-"

"Damn right you did," he cuts you off, arms crossed over his heaving chest. "You had a direct order to stay with me, so why did I find you with Langdon?" He stalks closer to you, just a step or two, though it feels like more.

"I-I just-" you fumble over your words, that damn cologne wafting through your nose again. "I saw a family, I thought I could help." It's a weak answer, but at least it's honest.

He nods, lips pursing together in thought.

"Guess I can't stay too mad about that," he admits, though his tone is clipped. He runs his palms over his forehead, his glasses pinched between his thumb and pointer finger as he rubs at his eyes.

You're not sure what to say next, treading carefully in the small, tense room. His silence eats at you, each second passing in agony. You watch your boss take deep, heavy breaths, committing the rise and fall of his chest to memory.

God, you wish you could rewind to a time where you weren't completely enthralled with Michael Robinavitch. Not being locked in a confine space with him would be helpful, too.

You shove your hands in your pockets, about to turn and leave when he stops you.

"Wait," he orders. You do as he says.

"I-about what I heard earlier…" he starts, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Your jaw drops, white hot embarrassment boiling deep in your stomach. This is what this is all about? Your cheeks burn, and you cover your face with your hands to escape his upending glare. You wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Dr. Robby, I am so, so sorry about that," you stress, your eyes turning glassy. "It was entirely unprofessional, any patient could have heard me, and we shouldn't have been talking about that on the clock. I sincerely apologize, Sir-"

He cuts off your rambling with a sharp inhale, squeezing his eyes shut, almost as if your words pain him. He holds a hand up, glasses still in his grip. You take a moment, study the way his long, thick digits wrap around the metal.

"You can't- you can't call me that," he breathes out, a sarcastic laugh escaping his lips.

Your brows knit together in confusion, your mouth partially opened, unsure how to respond.

"I'm sorry?" You say, dumbly. It's all you can manage, shock at this new side of your boss taking over.

"You can't call me Sir. Not anymore," he avoids eye contact with you, the vein in his neck bulging.

"I'm sorry, did I do something to offend you, Dr. Robby? I promise I had no intention-"

"No-dammit," he cuts you off again, sweat starting to form at his brow. "Of course you didn't. You're one of my best nurses," he gruffs, almost annoyed at that.

"Thank you?" You respond, and he chuckles. It's a real one this time, a glint in his eye as he takes you in. Your own lips turn up in a smile.

"I just- I know it was a conversation I wasn't supposed to hear. It's just-" he plows five fingers through his hair as he struggles for the words. "All I've been able to think about since then is how I want to- you don't-you deserve so much better than that."

The last few words come out a whisper, and the world stops on its axis. Your mouth fully drops open, shock electrocuting your veins. The past few hours play back as a montage in your brain, his hesitation in the ambulance bay, the need to have you near him, his anger that you went to help Langdon.

Then, another realization dawns on you. A knowing laugh escapes your throat, and you palm your mouth closed. His brow quirks at you, red tinting his cheeks.

"Is that why I can't call you 'Sir'?" You ask, flirtation lacing your tone. "Because you want to help me out so badly?"

He pulls the collar of his sweatshirt away from his neck, fanning himself some as he once again avoids your gaze.

"Fuck!" He exclaims, ten fingers now raking their way through his mussed hair. "I can't- this is ridiculous, you're my nurse. This is entirely inappropriate-"

He rushes to the door, if only you weren't in the way. You stop him, a gentle hand on his forearm. The proximity is lethal, now. He's so close, you can hear his small pants, the tapping of his foot against linoleum.

"I mean, it would be inappropriate, yes," you start, allowing your fingers to graze his skin lightly. He shudders, and your smile is sinful. "If only I wasn't thinking about you all day, too."

His eyes snap to yours at the admission, and you can't help but flit your gaze to his lips. They're slightly chapped, the nippy fall air starting to mark its territory on his skin. They're plump all the same, though, and you wish you could brand the way he licks them onto your skin.

"Robinavitch!" Dana shouts, and you two flinch against each other.

The reality of this situation dawns on both of you, panic now taking place of the tension rumbling between you. Robby presses his fingers to his temples, eyes falling shut for a brief moment.

He pushes you toward the corner of the room, where you'd be hidden once the door opens.

"Stay here," he whispers, and the shoulder where he grips you may as well be on fire. "Give it five minutes. Then go. We can't-I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" he murmurs under his breath as he swings the door open, his quick gait finding Dana at the end of the hallway.

Silence settles over you like a winter's chill. You roll your shoulders, attempting to shake out any remnants of Michael Robinavitch. You take your hair out of its clip, mussing it lightly to try to at least appear like you've been working.

You take a deep breath in, pushing it out before swinging the door open yourself, finding Robby once again delighting a patient in his special way. Your stomach churns with desire at the sight. Now that you know he wants you, too, all bets are off.

The rest of your shift is a blur, darkness soon settling over PTMC like a blanket. Your tasks feel menial, painfully routine when Robby looks at you the way he is. He's living in the back of your mind until hour twelve blissfully arrives.

It all replays in your head as you walk to the lockers, the glimmer in his eye when he looks at you, the way his knees buckle when you continuously call him 'Sir'. You swing the door open, nodding to the night shift nurses while you collect your things.

You're halfway through the vestibule, the parking lot in near distance, the sweet freedom of home calling your name. Something calls louder, though, and your head swings to the noise.

It's the door to the roof, shutting abruptly. You hear heavy footsteps clunking up the staircase, and you know all too well who it is. You stand there, the angel and devil on your shoulder debating whether or not to follow him.

You think back to the moment you guys had in the exam room, his breathlessness when you called him sir, his knees buckling when you grazed his arm with your fingers. Hell, the man blushed. More than once. You follow him.

You take a moment to appreciate the view once you're up there. The colorful leaves paint a beautiful autumnal skyline. You huff out a breath, a small puff wafting through the crisp air.

You set your bag down, slinking your arms through your pink sweatshirt. It's cold up here. Sobering. You can tell why Robby likes it up here.

"Hey," you start, and he jumps.

It makes you giggle, the pressure of being on the clock no longer pushing down on the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, rubbing his forehead with his palm. "How'd you find me up here, huh?" He asks, a playful glint in his eye.

"Just a hunch," you smile sinfully, eyes trained on the October sky in front of you. "It's beautiful up here," you remark, as if the tension isn't suffocating.

"Yeah," he remarks, his eyes burning a hole through your cheek. "Yeah, it is."

You have a feeling he's not talking about the view.

"Robby-" you start, but it's not long before his lips are on yours.

The kiss takes your breath away, the firm press of his soft lips is a delicious contrast, enough to make you dizzy. You grip his biceps, your fingers squeezing the tough muscle there. He grunts against your lips and you ease up a little, rubbing soothing circles in apology.

"Do you know," he mutters between kisses, his hands finding your skin under your sweatshirt and scrubs, "how much," he kisses down your cheek, your neck, "I want you?" He pulls away at this question, his eyes finding yours, bewildered at his confession. He presses a kiss to your nose before pulling you closer to him again.

Your head buries into his chest, his hands relentless, exploring every square inch of your body he can reach, his lips following suit. It's you that kisses him this time, gripping his jaw and pulling him to you with a whine.

"You taste so fucking good," he groans, tongue peeking out, testing the waters.

The slide of his tongue against yours is delectable, butterflies flooding your stomach in record speed. You grip the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing him even closer to you. Your knees buckle, falling further into him as he wraps more of himself around you.

He sighs into the kiss as he hoists you around his waist, pulling you out of sight behind a wall lining the roof. Your back hits the hard cement, and Robby's hand resting on the area beside your head. His forehead presses into yours, his breathing coming out quick and shallow. Yours matches his, and you can't help but rake your nails up his stomach to his chest, reveling in the way he shivers at the contact.

"I want you so fucking bad," he grumbles, rocking his hips into yours against the wall.

"You have me," you mutter, "I'm yours."

He groans at that, a loud, pained sound that rumbles somewhere deep in your stomach. He shakes his head, then, and your heart drops.

"Not here," he pants, pressing his body further into you. You moan at the contact, his hips jerking in response. "Fuck."

He kisses you once more, then again, and again. "After what I heard today…" he trails off, pressing kisses all over your face, "about how you're only satisfied with your vibrator…" more kisses, "it made me crazy. Can't believe these idiots your age don't know what to do with a woman like you."

Heat rushes through your veins at his words, desire burning at dangerous temperatures. His kisses grow more frantic as you feel him plumping up through his pants. Your knees buckle around him, and you thrust your own hips up to meet his.

"Robby, please. I need you to at least touch me," you whisper, not above begging for this man.

Your heart clutches when he shakes his head no, though his brows are knit together in pleasure, his lips parted in a perfect 'o'. He's on the brink of snapping, you can tell. You think you know exactly what'll get him, too.

"Sir, please. I need it," you plead, widening your eyes and jutting out your bottom lip.

A groan rips out of Robby's throat, his frantic hands pushing your scrubs down just below your ass. His fingers find your folds in record time, slowly sliding up and down, collecting your wetness. You bite your lip at the contact, your eyes never leaving his.

His brows jump at your pained expression, fingers stopping for a brief moment. "This okay?" He ensures, and you nod, whining and desperate for him to move again.

"Nuh-uh," he swats your thigh and you yelp. "Is this okay? Yes or no," he demands, and you fall even limper in his arms.

"Yes, it's okay Robby," you breathe out, your hands gripping his wrist, guiding him back to you. He smiles sardonically as he finds your clit, his index finger rubbing slightly.

"Oh God," you moan, arching your back off the wall. "Faster, please faster ohmygod," you whimper out, keening when his speed picks up.

"Yeah?" He asks, a faux pity lacing his tone. "This where you use your vibrator?"

You moan in response, and he chuckles.

"Yeaahh," he draws out, a teasing gasp leaving his lips at the jerk of your hips. "You press it on this pretty clit? Make yourself cum after some asshole can't do it for you?"

You nod shamelessly, hands reaching for his biceps once again. "Please Robby, make me cum, please Sir."

A finger enters you at that, pushing a squeal out of you. He breathes another chuckle, moving his middle finger in and out slowly, trying to find a rhythm. It's hard, given your lack of space, and you wiggle your hips to try and give him a better angle.

He huffs out a breath, muttering "fuck it," before dropping to his knees, pulling your scrubs down to your ankles. You squeal at the sudden movement, his arms scooping under your legs and ass, holding you upright as his tongue finds your clit.

Heat boils in your stomach as he swirls circles into your clit. His spit and your arousal create a tantalizing friction against your most sensitive spot. You bury your hands in his hair, gripping and tugging, the vibrations of his groan against your pussy like a reward.

"So fucking delicious, holy shit," he mutters against your skin, his middle finger able to slide in easier now at this angle. He sucks your clit into his mouth, letting it go with a wet pop.

"God, Robby. Feels so good, never been this good," you whine, scraping your nails through his scalp. He shudders at this.

"Yeah? These fucking boys don't deserve you. I don't even fucking deserve you, shit-" he palms at his pants, pressing a kiss to your clit as he adds his ring finger. "Least I can do is make you cum."

Your eyes squeeze shut as white hot pressure builds in your stomach, almost too much to take. Your legs flail involuntarily, and he shushes you with sweet kisses to your clit.

"Shh, shh," he soothes, lessening his assault on your pussy. "You're okay, you can let go, I love the taste of you. So fucking delicious, can't wait to taste you."

You snap, intense waves of pleasure relentless as you writhe in his grasp, a high pitched moan wrestling its way out of your throat.

"Oh God Sir, I'm coming," you exclaim, his own groan vibrates against you, pushing you farther off the edge.

Your vision is spotty as you come down, taking advantage of the cool night air you breathe in. It takes a moment for you to set yourself back down on the ground, shaky legs beneath you like a baby deer.

Tension settles over you two once more as you take each other in. He's gorgeous- hair mussed, lips puffy, nose shining from your wetness. You can't help but smile, prompting his own in return. You take a small step forward, eyeing the obvious bulge in his pants. You raise your brows once, twice.

"Well," you start, reaching for him, "can I return the favor?"

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but no," Robby says, and it stops you dead in your tracks.

Tears spring to your eyes, and he's quick to the damage control.

"No, no, no, it's not like that," he reassures, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

"I just-" he shakes his head, eyes finding his feet, then flitting back to you, "if I get my dick out in any way tonight, I'm going to end up fucking you."

You throw your hands up, unsure what the problem is there. He chuckles again.

"We're not fucking until I can treat you to a proper date. I'm not going to be one of those assholes that's just trying to get their dick wet. Can I take you out?" He asks, and it's almost bashful.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach again, your cheeks heating at his loving gaze. You nod your head, lips pursed together.

"Yeah," you mutter, "yeah. That sounds nice."

He leans in to kiss you gently on the lips. You pull him back for one more, which turns into two, three, four.

"Can I pick you up Friday? Are you working then?" He asks, and you shake your head no. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He slips a piece of paper out of his pocket and places it in your hands, wrapping your fist closed around it.

"Text me your address. I'll be there at 7. Don't be late," he punctuates this with a kiss on the cheek before walking off.

Perhaps, the truth was that the sick and twisted part of him he was so very good at hiding, enjoyed torturing you, relished in the way you cowered and stuttered- lived to have you in the palm of his hand, a thing so small and delicate that he could choose to care for or destroy with so little effort.

So he did what he shouldn’t have.

He toyed with you.

He started standing too close as you performed procedures, his hands started traveling too low on your back or too high on your neck when he guided you from room to room.

He started using pet-names, absolutely loving the way you forgot what you were saying whenever he called you honey, baby, sugar... not to mention the look on your face whenever you did a nice enough job that earned you a simple, devastating “good girl.”

That was all, however.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist thinking of you on your knees, pretty mouth open and waiting, many more times than he could count- but he’d never crossed that line.

Maybe he liked the game, or maybe, you’d yet to give him a big enough incentive to do so.

That was until today.

He heard you first.

He heard your pretty, gentle laugh coming from somewhere in the ER, and instinctively, he started looking around.

He was expecting Santos or Javadi to be next to you, anyone but whom he found.

Dr. Abbot was looking at you in a way he knew damn well.

He was a player, a hell of a good one.

Michael knew there was nothing casual in the way Jack was touching your arm, in the look in his eyes, in the tongue wetting his lips.

He’d never been the jealous type. Much less with Abbot, given the history of... well, of the few women they’d shared during the years.

But this was different. You were different.

You were his in a way that meant so much more than it ever had.

He was making his way toward you before he had time to think.

“What are we laughing about here?”

His tone was stern, causing a quiet gasp to escape your mouth as you turned to him, surprised.

“I was just telling our lovely student about a few stories from the pitt.”

“’S that right?” Dr. Robby scowled, shaking his head as he tried to refrain from telling his friend to fuck off.

Jack had a smug look on his face as he smiled at him, one that persisted once he went back to looking at you.

“I have a lot more stories like that. I could tell you some more of them while we get a drink sometimes.”

Your whole face heated up, and your eyes widened as you stared at the night shift’s attending, all the while somehow only focusing on Dr. Robby standing beside you.

“I-I-”

“There’s a patient in South 15 waiting for you, Dr. Abbot. ”

Michael’s hands tightened into fists at his sides as he spoke those words, trying to remain calm while he stopped you from answering.

There was no way in hell Jack didn’t get what he was silently communicating.

Get the fuck away from her.

“Now?” Jack still had the nerve to ask, his eyebrow raising as he glanced pointedly at you.

“Now”

There was no room for argument, especially when Robinavitch decided to take matters into his own hands and, with a palm on your back, started guiding you away from Abbot.

Your breathing was laboured as you mindlessly followed him around a corner, where he decided to stop.

You felt embarrassed, and somehow, this weird... guilt was eating at you.

“I-I’m sorry, Dr. Robinavitch,” you mumbled, panicked.

He was looking down at you with such anger in his eyes that you wanted to hide away and cry.

You’d disappointed him.

And you really never wanted to do that.

“You’re here to learn, Dr. y/l/n, not to flirt with your superiors.”

A pit formed in your stomach.

“I wasn’t-”

Once again, he stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

He wanted to punch something.

It was taking all of his self-restraint not to lock you in a room and show you who you belonged to.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” he shook his head, exhaling loudly as he stared somewhere behind you. “Go find something useful to do... and stay away from Abbot.”

__  __  __

You’d had a lot of horrible shifts in this ER, but this one took the cake by far.

Trying to do anything while replaying the look on Michael’s face as he scolded you proved to make any task almost impossible.

Not to mention how hard it was to see him act so differently. He avoided you when he could, and when he couldn’t, it broke your heart to see him so cold and distant.

You didn’t know why you cared so much.

He was your attending, your boss... you shouldn’t have wanted to make him proud, happy- to impress him, and yet...

Yet you did. The truth was that you knew, for as much as you tried to deny it and get over it, you knew he wasn’t just that.

You’d developed a crush on him from the very first second your eyes laid on him.

He was handsome in a way that took your breath away.

So tall, strong- that beard, that nose, those eyes... and the moment you saw him in action... the moment you witnessed him get all serious and professional and bark orders and know exactly what to do, all the while remaining completely calm... You knew you were done for.

Moreover, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he treated you differently. Maybe you were just being delusional, but you’d only noticed him being touchy with you; his gaze seemed to always be on you whenever you found yourselves in the same room, and you were fairly certain he didn’t use pet names for anyone else.

Not to mention all the “good girl” incidents. You were pretty sure he’d caught you squeezing your thighs at the praise once... and yet he didn’t stop.

Things were different between you. Things were good.

Which is why you needed to fix this. You needed to make everything go back to how it was.

You were changed and ready to go home when you saw him making his way to the hospital’s exit.

Against your better judgment and the pounding of your nervous heart, you quickened your pace to catch up with him.

“Dr. Robby!” You called as the glass doors to the building closed behind you.

He was walking to his car, but he stopped when he heard your voice, giving you time to reach him.

“Dr. Y/l/n” he greeted you, his tone serious.

“H-hi, I just wanted to talk to you for a  moment.”

“About what?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to maintain eye contact.

“About before- I- Uhm... I wanted to apologize.”

The look in his eyes darkened, as if his mind went somewhere else for a moment.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he weighed his options, before he ordered you to “get inside” with a single nod to the back of his car.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you settled in the backseat of his car, but it stopped beating completely once Dr. Robby followed and took his spot beside you.

It wasn’t a small car, but Michael’s presence took away two-thirds of the room and air in the space.

“You said you wanted to talk... now’s the time.”

The sun had already set outside, it was dark, but the street lamps caused a soft, dim light to infiltrate the car windows.

You could still see the entrance of the ER, but your attending had a mostly isolated parking spot, so the people you could glimpse felt far away.

It felt as if you were in a small bubble, a cut in monotony filled with unsaid words and buzzing electricity.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong before,” you spoke meekly, “I wanted you to know that it wasn’t my intention to... flirt with Dr. Abbot.”

He scoffed, and it felt as if the world came crashing down on your head.

You just wanted him to understand that you’d never do that.

Sure, you had a functioning pair of eyes, you knew Jack Abbot was an incredibly hot man, and yeah... maybe you would have even thought of him that way if it weren’t for the fact your heart was indefinitely preoccupied with the man before you.

“N-no, I promise I wasn’t, Dr. Robby.”

You mumbled hurriedly, your hand absentmindedly finding his on the seat.

“I just didn’t think you were such a slut.”

It took a moment to register his words. He’d spoken them with such gentleness that you considered having misheard him.

“I-I...”

“What?” he raised a brow, looking at you with something that reminded you of... hunger. “Going around batting your eyes at your superiors...” he tsked

“I’m sorry, Dr. Robinavitch,” You sniffed, tears suddenly welling in your eyes, “I-I didn’t mean to- I-”

You were losing all common sense and all composure- while he enjoyed the show.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His voice was hoarse- his fingers moved some hair out of your face.

He watched heat crawl up your neck as you struggled to breathe.

You moved closer, your hand trailing up to his forearm to hold his hand on your cheek.

“I am- I am. I promise”

But while you nodded frantically, he was already shaking his head.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You willed your tears to remain confined in your eyes as heat pooled in your belly.

Yes, you hated seeing him disappointed, but he was so close... and his hands felt so good.

“I swear,” you murmured.

A slow, predatory grin pulled at his lips.

“Yeah?” His breath fanned your skin while you felt his other hand slowly land on your thigh.

“Yes,” you confirmed, your voice shaky.

It felt as if everything else disappeared. As if the world stopped existing and all that turned real- important, was you two, in the backseat of his car, in this exact moment.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him wide-eyed.

His palm was moving up your leg, and you started doubting whether or not this was all a dream.

But the heat of his fingers as they seeped under the waistband of your pants was impossible to imagine.

“Would a good girl let me do this?”

You instinctively spread your legs as his digits traveled lower, finding your dampening core through your panties.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you whispered truthfully.

You didn’t know anything at the moment. You doubted you could remember your name.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

He’d barely touched you, and you were already melting before him.

He had no clue why he waited so long... he should have done this a long time ago.

“The right answer is yes,” He cooed softly, as if you were the dumbest little thing on the planet, “But only I can do this, right? Not Abbot, not anyone... just me.”

His fingers drew higher, finding your clit, causing a gasp to flee your throat.

“J-just you, yes.” You muttered mindlessly,

“That’s right, good.” He nodded, eyes serious as his thumb traced your cubid bow.

Before you knew it, two of his fingers had found a way underneath your panties.

His skin on your raw heat was enough to make you moan.

“Dr. Robinavitch...” you breathed, as he explored your slick folds as if he owned them, all the while gently caressing your face.

He was watching every single expression you made, willing it to memory- praying to never forget it.

You looked so pretty like this... mindless, horny, wrapped around his finger... just how he wanted you.

He hissed as his digits dipped into you.

“You’re making a mess of yourself, baby.”

Your back arched as you bit down a cry.

“Please,” you whined, the car filling up with the obscene sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your drenched core.

He grinned as his fingers plunged harder into you just to hear you cry and feel you spasm around him.

“You think you deserve to come?”

“I-I, yes, please- Sir”

Sir? Jesus, it’s like you knew exactly what made him tick.

He suppressed a groan as he slowed his movements, observing the lust and ecstasy in your eyes.

“You sure?” he taunted, his digits leaving you all of a sudden. “I think the only thing you deserve to do is apologize.”

He watched, with sadistic satisfaction, the shock in your eyes as his hand left you altogether.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Robby, I told you- it won’t happen again.” You begged, your pussy pulsating around nothing, your orgasm fading like a shattered dream.

He didn’t pay you any mind as his eyes fell to the moisture on his fingers.

“Jesus, sugar, look at this mess.”

Your gaze followed his, and heat crawled to your cheeks at the proof of your arousal.

“I-I’m sorry.”

It seemed as if those were the only words you knew today.

“’s alright, baby, open up.”

His thumb on your chin urged your lips to widen as he guided his soiled digits into your mouth.

He bit down a growl at the image, his cock begging for attention as you sucked his fingers clean without so much as a question.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, retracting both his hands and leaving you to look at him all puppy-eyed and lost.

If he were a better man, that look would have been enough to give you what you wanted, what you needed... but unfortunately for you, he wasn’t a good man.

“I-I really am sorry for what I did, sir,” you murmured.

He simply nodded while his hands went to unfasten his belt.

“That’s good, honey,” he cooed, “but I can think of a way more convincing apology.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he undid his zipper and, within seconds, freed his cock.

“Be good and suck my cock, y/n”

He was big. Very big.

And he was rock hard, with some precum already leaking from his tip.

You gulped as you watched him give himself a quick tug, before spreading his legs and settling back in his seat.

“You said you wanted to apologize,” he smirked, eyeing his dick, “this is your chance, sugar.”

There was so much you wanted to say- so many thoughts going through your head.

But as you glanced at his expectant eyes, all you could do was what he asked.

It was like you were under some sort of spell as you slowly sank your knees onto the seat and crawled closer to him, until you could lower your head to where he wanted it.

This wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your first intimate encounter with Robby.

So many times you’d daydreamed of him kissing you and proclaiming his love for you under the rain... but different didn’t mean worse- right?

I mean, this was still very hot, and you were more than excited to do this; it just was... not how you expected.

You looked up at him, and he nodded, softly murmuring , “Go on.”

And that was that.

You couldn’t help but kiss his tip, and when that caused a little drib of precum, your immediate reflex was to lick it all up.

He hissed, and that only spurred you on.

You gave his head a few other kitty licks before widening your mouth and starting to gently suck him in.

His head fell back against the seat as he groaned in pleasure.

You hollowed your cheeks as your head began bobbing up and down his shaft, trying to fit more and more of him.

“Jesus, baby,” he rasped, gathering your hair in a makeshift bun.

He was much too big to get all of him down your throat, but you were gonna try your best.

“Go deeper, baby— Just like that- I know you can do it.”

His hand started guiding you, pushing you even more down, as his hips began to rock up into you.

There was nothing you could do to prevent the gagging.

And yet he seemed to take pride in that, because he didn’t stop- quite the opposite, he started to go harder.

“Goddamnit,” he growled as your throat constricted around him.

Your eyes were blurry with unshed tears, but you were more than willing to take it all just to make him proud.

“Good girl- taking me so well.”

You moaned around his manhood at those words, causing a grin to appear on his lips.

“Such an obedient little thing,” he rasped, as his free hand moved to slap your ass.

You squeaked in surprise, but as he did it again, a whimper of a moan vibrated around his cock.

“That’s right,” he cooed, moving your head up and down as if you were a mindless doll. “This is the only cock you want down your throat- You’re mine, sugar, you hear me?”

“mh-mh,” you hummed around his dick, feeling every ridge and vein of his against your tongue as you made a mess of saliva and tears around his base.

“Good,” he groaned, his hips thrusting up as you kept sucking him like your life depended on it “No more flirting with Dr. Abbot?”

You shook your head no immediately, earning a low, satisfied grunt.

“Got all you need right here,” he chukled darkly, caressing your backside now as he watched you take him in so well and so deep.

“’m gonna come down your throat now,” he muttered, his movements turning more erratic, “and you’re gonna be good and swallow everything I give you.”

You nodded as your hand gripped his thigh to ground you.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he muttered like a prayer, moving you however it pleased him, “take it- like that... fuck- good fucking girl.”

He came with an animalistic growl, his dick spurting all his come down your throat, which you swallowed eagerly.

He exhaled loudly, loosening his grip on you and allowing you get back up.

His head was resting against the headrest as he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

You tried to wipe your face clean for as much as you could, your heart still pounding, your breathing erratic.

He smirked cockily as he tucked himself back in his pants, while you sat back down on the seat- your panties drenched at this point.

“You did good, baby.”

“T-thank you,” you whimpered as he raised his hand to softly stroke your humid cheek.

“You need a ride home?”

“If it’s not- uhm- too much trouble.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Of course not- anything for my special girl.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you forgot how to breathe.

“C’mon, let’s get in the front,” he nodded.

You turned to do as he said, when he remembered something.

you were nothing short of ecstatic as you practically skipped up and down the basement stairs, boxes full of christmas crap in your arms.

it was mid december, and you had moved into this apartment in early august. john had gotten the surgical residency at county general he wanted so badly, you were doing the same in pediatrics, and you even convinced him to adopt a kitten. you had some friends and family close by, and things finally seemed like they were going to work out.

john was sitting on the carpet in the living room, trying to untangle a ball of lights. there was a roast in the oven, a fire in the fireplace, and all sorts of christmas stuff scattered around the kitchen and living room. an undecorated, real fraiser fur was up it its stand in the corner. “the carter tradition,” he’d called it.

there was about a week until christmas, and you could hardly contain your giddy excitement. best of all, you were hosting friends and family this year, meaning you could go all out with an elaborate, festive menu.

“you need help?” you asked, closing the basement door with your hip since your hands were full.

“got it, babe, thanks,” he replied, smiling up at you briefly.

“don’t look like you got it,” you said in a sing-song voice. in the corner of your eye you saw that he was halfway wrapped around the string of lights, but you chose to ignore it for the time being. you moved to put the boxes down on the kitchen table, placing them down with a thump.

“i got it, babe,” john repeated, and scoffed a laugh, “do you mind grabbing me my glasses, though?”

“sure,” you smiled, grabbing the little case and puling them out for him, checking if they were clean before handing them over. when you were close enough, he rested his hand on the back of your neck gently to press his lips against yours.

your nose brushed against his when you pulled away. “hi.”

“hi, sweetheart,” john laughed softly. he placed his hand on the small of your back as you crouched down next to him. his cheeks were pink from the cold, and his eyes were the warmest shade of brown. you felt mushy looking at him. his sweater was old and cozy and his back was warm from sitting facing away from the fireplace.

“i’ll be done in a sec and then we can do ornaments, okay?” john said softly, bumping his nose against yours gently.

“okay,” you agreed with a nod, reluctantly getting up and padding back to the kitchen. the dark, hardwood floors creaked under your fluffy-sock clad feet.

he managed to get the lights unwrapped without tangling them further while you quickly checked on dinner and took the ornaments out of their padded cardboard boxes. some were from your families or ones you made as kids, others were newer, nice ones from department stores.

“do we really need to keep this one?” you asked with a laugh, holding up one that was a snowflake with a picture of you stuck to the middle, probably from around kindergarten.

“what?” john made a sarcastically incredulous face, “that one’s a gem baby. goin’ smack dab in the middle.”

you would’ve protested, but the next ornament you pulled out was one of john. “look at those cheeks!” you exclaimed, holding it up to show him. it was a cut out of his face in the middle of a paper wreath, with a little hook at the top. his cheeks were chubbier, but those bright eyes and bunny teeth were the exact same.

he laughed and his face went a little pink. “touché,” he snatched it from you. “it’ll go right next to yours, then.”

it took you about half an hour to put all the ornaments up, then the tinsel messily wrapped around and the star at the very top, before storing the boxes away. by then, dinner was ready and you and john were starving.

you ate and admired your hard work. the tree was a little wonky but still beautiful. you decorated the mantle with greens and candles, and put other little things here and there all over the home. you and john’s apartment, even without the christmas madness, was coming along quite nicely. it felt like home, especially after he felt unwelcome in his own for so long.

“do you wanna play mancala? …or rum?” you asked, putting your dish in the sink.

“mancala sounds good. if you go set it out i’ll clean up dinner.” john offered. in passing, he smooched your cheek, making a gross mwah sound.

you scrunched your face up, but really didn’t mind at all. “you’re the sweetest,” you smiled.

“i try my best.”

you set the game out on the living room table, putting whatever christmas movie happened to be on tv as background noise. after being beat by you three times in a row, john gave up.

“hey, you can’t do that!” you exclaimed jokingly, leaning over to kiss him.

“do what?” john asked when he pulled away for a breath. he shifted to face you on the couch.

“i’ll let you win if you play me just one more time,” you started, and placed your hands gently on his thighs.

“no can do, baby. for my ego,” john continued, and kissed you again with a bit more vitality. he moved his hands up to cup your face, and you felt his face get warm. it was rare that he was so forwardly affectionate with you, but it was much appreciated when it did happen.

after making out for a while longer, you flopped back into the couch cushions, redirecting your attention to whatever crap was on tv. your eyes drifted to the half-packed suitcases next to the stairs; a reminder of your late-december munich trip coming up soon. you decided, after much consideration, that you could do christmas eve with his family, christmas day with yours, spend a couple days in germany at churches and christmas markets and whatnot, and then celebrate new years with friends.

would this plan realistically fit into both your rigorous schedules? no, probably not, but you would try anyway.

“i love you,” john said, turning his head to look at you. your faces were a mere couple inches apart.

“i love you too,” you replied sincerely, and gently brushed your lips against his. “i’m so happy we get to spend the holidays together.”

Robby nods through his own coffee, which singes the tip of his tongue and stings going down just the same.

“Okay…” he lilts and clears his throat as he sets his coffee cup on the desk next to your untouched one. “Then do you wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me lately?”

He drags his glasses from the pocket of his dark scrubs and slides the black rims over his eyes in one fell swoop, pretending to examine your empty chart just to be closer to you. Your heart lurches into your throat when you feel his crossed arms rubbing against your back. Your skin crawls in annoyance a second later, when his warm breath fans across the exposed skin of your neck.

It’s a tug of war your body has been battling for weeks — you love everything and nothing all at once. It’s driving you as crazy as it’s probably been making the man behind you.

“I live with you, Robinavitch,” you murmur lowly, fingers click-clacking on the clunky keyboard as you type on borderline autopilot. “I couldn’t avoid you if I wanted to.”

“Well, that just makes it sound like you want to avoid me,” he scoffs.

“If I wanted to, I wouldn’t be letting you breathe down my neck right now, would I?”

Robby laughs, a sharp exhale through his broad nose. You can hear the smile in his voice as he quips, “Well, now I’m gonna stand closer just to piss you off.”

Dana watches from the other end of the circular work station, peering at the two of you over the top of her clear glasses and shaking her head to herself. Because, sure, you work with some of the smartest people the world has ever seen, but she’s the only one perceptive enough to see how lovesick the two of you are.

(It took her less than a month to find out the two of you were dating, after your return from a less-than-subtle shared week off, with your scrubs smelling less of your perfume and more of Robby’s expensive laundry detergent).

“And they say romance is dead…” the woman lilts in a gritty deadpan.

Robby laughs under his breath in response.

The distant frown on your face never wavers.

The sight finds Robby like a knife to the chest.

His brows pinch as his brown eyes squint behind his glasses. “What is with you?” he hears himself ask, a little more blunt than he intended to be. “You’ve been acting weird for days now. It’s like ever since—”

“Dr. Robby?” a familiar voice calls from the otherside of the bustling work station.

Your heads whip over your shoulders in tandem to where Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi stands at the edge of the hall. Her plush lips curl into a smile as she smooths a rogue curl back behind her ear, with the hand not clutching her tablet. The polite grin sparkles in her eyes, so brown they’re almost black against the soft canvas of her olive skin.

As if it weren’t already abundantly clear that the universe despises you, the unmerciful gods have sent the most beautiful woman on this side of Pennsylvia into the Pitt. She was older than you and far smarter than she probably realizes. The combination of her being both closer to Robby’s age and intellect has given you a complex you’re too ashamed to admit to.

“Are you busy?” she asks, dark eyes flitting between the two of you. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

Robby opens his mouth to speak, to turn her down.

You answer for him.

“No, we were just wrapping up, actually,” you tell her, plastering an artificial smile on your lips that makes Robby’s brows furrow when your dull eyes dart back to his. “Right, Dr. Robinavitch?”

He takes the hint in stride and your distant rejection on the chin.

“Uh, right…” he drawls, nodding slowly and parting from you with a huff. “What do you need, Dr. Al?”

“Well, I think there are still a few things we need to go over before we…”

Their voices disappear as they walk down the long hallway.

You mourn his warmth when he leaves. Your chest deflates with a wavering breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So…” Santos lilts as she leans on the desk in front of you, drumming her palms on the surface. She flashes you a smile, but the wide look in her green eyes makes it look more like a grimace. “Dr. Al-Hashimi… Do we… like her?”

You shrug, still typing. “She seems nice. I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. She seems real nice…” Santos lilts in a gritty monotone, then scoffs at the look you give her. “You don’t see how close she is with Dr. Robby? Yeah, she wants a taste of that tall glass of skim milk real bad.”

“Haven’t noticed,” you respond, despite the jealousy burning like rolling lava in the pit of your stomach.

“Ew,” Whitaker blurts from the desk over, pale features screwed in disgust. “Why would you choose the worst type of milk?”

“Because men are the worst type of milk,” Santos answers like it’s obvious.

Whitaker doesn’t exactly understand her meaning, but to be fair, he rarely ever does most days. He just nods with a confused look pinching his face. “Touche…?”

The interaction from earlier that morning weighs on you all day. You can feel it physically, a heavy swirling in your stomach, that rises inevitably into your throat some hours later.

You were in the middle of performing a particularly bloody cricothyrotomy in a busy examination room with all hands on deck when it finally hit you. You were just barely able to ask Langdon to take over before the nausea could strangle you.

With Robby manning the camera shoved several inches down the sedated man’s throat, he was forced to watch you storm out, ripping off your bloody gown and gloves as you went.

“Is she okay?” Dr. Al-Hashimi wondered aloud, passing Langdon the thin blue bougie and helping him ease the instrument into the man’s open mouth.

It took Robby a second too long to realize she was asking him specifically. He blinked hard, clearing the glaze of concern from his eyes, and shook his head. “No idea…”

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Dr. Garcia crooned from the head of the room with a knowing smirk and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes behind her safety glasses. “Kept her up all night, didn’t ya, Robby?”

“Not the time or the place, Garcia.”

“I was just asking if you had her working late,” the woman shrugged with a feigned air of innocence. “That’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you were…”

Robby didn’t see you again until the procedure was done. By then, you had already puked up your breakfast and brushed your teeth with the hygiene kit typically reserved for patients. You’d gotten some of your color back, too, from where the sudden wave of nausea had you corpse-like and clammy-skinned.

“You okay?” he’d ask with concern sitting heavily in his dark brown eyes behind the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He peers over the monitor, following your form as you pump hand sanitizer from the dispenser on the wall.

“I’m fine,” you answered instinctively, rubbing your palms together. “It was just… a lot of blood.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“I know. Weird, right?”

Robby opted not to press you on the obvious at the time, just told you to take a break for a while —“if not for you, then for me,” he’d pleaded, and thought you might listen to him for a change.

You’re much too stubborn for any of that, though, and you’ve never been entirely sure what to do with yourself when you aren’t doing something useful with your hands. It’s two of the main reasons he fell in love with you in the first place — and, coincidentally, two of the main reasons you constantly stress him out.

Robby stops suddenly in his tracks, shoes squeaking against the tile, when he passes by the security room window. He sees you through the glass, sticking post-it notes to the wall with Ahmad, the security guard, at your side.

The dry-erase board has since been cleared and labeled: “How come? How long? How many?” with various other specifications scrawled in your neat handwriting to make a makeshift grid.

The man shakes his head despite the soft smile on his face and doubles back for the door.

“You know, when I said ‘take a break,’ I meant an actual break,” he says in lieu of any real greeting. His arms strain against his scrub sleeves when he crosses them over his chest. “I didn’t mean helping these bozos out with their gambling ring.”

“Well, this bozo is about to be $100 richer, Robinavitch,” Ahmad says with a wide grin, flashing him the wad of cash he’s been collecting from miscellaneous bets all day. “Don’t worry— I’ll throw the Pitt a pizza party or something. I’m not totally heartless.”

“Good to know,” Robby nods before his eyes flit back to you.

“I like organizing,” you tell the man, when you feel his gaze boring into the back of your head. You press each of Whitaker’s bets into the proper squares — outage, $40. “I’m good at it. It helps take my mind off… everything…”

You exhale a heavy sigh and smooth the bright blue post-it onto the board.

Robby frowns, though you aren’t looking at him to see it. “Like what—?”

“How’s the grid coming along?” Dr. Al-Hashimi wonders aloud as she saunters into the security room.

Robby notices that you don’t turn your head to answer her question or to otherwise acknowledge her presence. Your shoulder just tense instead, like she’s startled you, or like her being there alone has you holding your breath. To be fair, though, Robby doesn’t turn to look at her either when she walks to stand at his side.

“Why?” Ahmad asks with a teasing grin. “Wanna get on the books?”

“Yeah, actually…” the woman lilts in a pretty voice as her dark eyes scan the slowly building grid before her. Her lips curl into a teasing grin when she finds Robby’s name scrawled along several neon orange sticky notes. “Put me down for… Flooding, four hours, and thirty patients.”

Robby scoffs to himself — it’s an exact copy of his bet, just a bit more dialed up. His eyes follow the woman’s form as she passes Ahmad a creased twenty-dollar bill. He scratches at the gray patch in his beard and jokes, “Well, that sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it, Dr. Al?”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Robby,” she shrugs. “I’ll buy you a drink with my winnings.”

You can hear the quiet smile in her voice, even though you aren’t looking at her to see it. You can practically feel the look she’s giving Robby, too — all doe-eyed and glittering, like she knows some sort of secret she isn’t willing to share just yet.

What you can’t quite figure out, though — and what you’ve struggled to figure out for days now — is how Robby might be looking at her. He’s too secretive. Too stoic. A brick wall in every sense of the word.

His squinted eye expression never wavers, and never truly does when he’s looking at her, but you wonder what he might be thinking behind him. Does she annoy him? Does he like that she annoys him? Is her constant teasing attractive to him the way it used to be with you?

The nauseous feeling returns to your stomach in that instant, along with a distant cramping that makes your heart drop — a ring of dull, red-hot pain you can feel up into your back.

“That is… very presumptuous of you,” Robby responds with an air of indifference that borders on playful.

“Well, I happen to call that confidence,” she retorts with a similar playfulness that’s far more obvious in her pretty voice.

Your mouth parts to gulp for air when the nausea starts to strangle you once more.

“Have you talked to Dana yet?” you hear yourself ask Ahmad, though your voice sounds much further away than that, like it’s coming from someone else entirely. “I haven’t seen her name.”

“Not yet,” the taller man answers, still scribbling down Dr. Al’s bet with a pungent Sharpie you can smell from here. “I meant to catch her in the break room, but it slipped my mind—”

“I’ll go find her,” you blurt before the words have properly left the man’s mouth.

You spin on your heel, fighting back the dizziness and stumbling back a step when you find Robby much closer than anticipated. His dark eyes soften with concern; yours widen like you’re looking at a stranger.

“Excuse me, Dr. Robby,” you murmur, polite and half-strangled, as the cramping sensation swells. You duck your head from the quiet looks of worry all around you and hurry out of the room.

Robby watches you disappear through the window, unsure of whether or not to follow after you. The dilemma glues his feet to the floor.

You don’t want him near you now but, at the same time, you hate him for not coming with you. The contradiction makes you feel like puking.

Your vision goes red. The sight of blood stains your retinas, as though you had been looking at the sun for too long and are blinded with every blink. The deep crimson blotched in your panty liner was too dark and much too heavy to be the normal spotting you’d anticipated. Your mind reels for what might be the cause — the worst case scenario and then some — and you get lost in the spiral for several long minutes, all alone in the narrow stall of the E.R. bathroom.

A knock on the door brings you to life again.

A call of your name makes your heart drop to your cramping stomach.

“Robby?” you call back, rushing to pull up your scrub pants and flush the toilet behind you, despite not having actually used it.

The stall door clicks open and fills the tense quiet of the bathroom. You step out and find the man peeking through a crack in the ajar door, with only a sliver of his face on display. Despite not having the strength to smile, you manage to joke in a strangled voice, “Do you have any idea how creepy you look right now?”

Robby exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh. His eyes are still heavy with worry as they follow your form to the sink, where you drench your hands in foamy soap and warm water.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t keel over in here,” he tells you, only partially joking. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I wouldn’t have let you come in today.”

“I’m not sick,” you say, definitive but still a little vague, as you reach for the paper towel dispenser at your side.

“No?” he calls when you turn your back to him. “What are you then?”

Hopefully still pregnant, you think cynically to yourself as you shut off the running faucet and chuck the crumpled paper towel in the bin. Because apparently I can’t even do that right—

“It’s just been a long day, Robby…” you confess with a heavy sigh as you close the distance between you.

“It’s barely noon,” he says.

“I know.”

You don’t look at him as you walk by, knocking gently into his shoulder as you slide past him in the doorway. The chaos of the Pitt finds you immediately — muddled conversation, constant beeping, and three nurses chasing a naked psychiatric patient down the hall. There is a strange comfort in the noise, but there’s a never-ending panic in it, too.

You struggle now to find the balance as you weave through the crowded emergency department with all the effortlessness of someone who’s mastered the sea of chaos. Robby tries to follow you, but loses you first behind a patient in a wheelchair, then another in a gurney headed for the morgue downstairs, and then by—

“Everything okay, Dr. Robby?”

He flinches when Dr. Al-Hashimi appears suddenly at his side, seemingly everywhere all at once — which is probably the exact reason why she’s one of the best attendings to ever touch this floor.

“Jesus…” the man huffs when the fleeting panic passes.

“You think you’d be used to meeting me this way by now,” the older woman jokes with a quiet laugh. Her pretty smile wavers with a flickering look of confusion when Robby’s eyes dart over her shoulder, flitting over the crowd like he’s searching for something within it. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting off all morning.”

Robby chokes back the immediate anger that rises in his throat like bile. He understands why you’ve been dismissing him all day, now that the same suffocating concern he’s been giving you is now being pointed at him.

“Great observation, Dr. Al,” the man quips in a gritty monotone.

He steps to the side to walk past her. She steps back in front of him a second later, always so stubborn in her way. Her doe eyes harden while Robby’s widen in confusion.

“I can’t help out around here if you cut me down with something snarky every time I try to talk to you, Dr. Robinavitch.”

Robby concedes with an exhaled breath through his nose. He nods slowly to himself, raking his calloused palms down the length of his scruffy face. Muffled behind his hands, he says, “You’re right. I apologize—”

“I forgive you,” the woman nods.

“—But you can’t come in the middle of everything and expect to fix it,” Robby continues with a sterner look.

“I can try.”

“But not everybody wants you to,” he says, far kinder to her than he’s been since she got here, despite the harsh truth in his words.

She’s left stewing in them when he walks away from her and after you.

It takes Robby another five minutes to find you. You’re not with Dana at the work station, or with any of your patients, or getting a coffee in the breakroom. He’s almost certain you’ve disappeared entirely until he starts checking empty rooms. He finds you in Central 20, catches the back of your form through a sliver in the drawn curtains.

He raps his knuckles against the glass door, which squeaks quietly when he pushes it ajar. “Yell at me all you want, but I’m coming in,” he says to announce his presence, before stepping past the threshold.

He says it mostly in jest, and with a smile you can hear in his gravelly voice. The distant playfulness ebbs at the sight he finds before him — you, in front of an ultrasound machine, with tears glittering on your face beneath the white-blue fluorescent lights overhead, which you wipe haphazardly away with the back of your hand.

You drop the wand into place at the sound of Robby’s voice, stepping back from the screen as if it had burned you. Your black top falls into place over your stomach a second later.

Whatever was on the screen before has since zapped to black.

Robby’s eyes dart between it and you. A distant panic flashes across his chest. He crosses his arms as if to stifle that feeling, and clears his throat to keep it from strangling him.

“What’s… What’s this?”

You sniffle, blinking wildly at him with wet eyes and dark lashes clumped together with tears. “I… I can explain.”

He nods slowly, feigning an air of composure despite his racing heart. “Please do.”

“I, uh… I took a pregnancy test,” you confess for the first time out loud, voice wavering under the weight of your emotion. “A few weeks ago now, I think—”

“Weeks?” Robby hears himself blurt with his brows raised to his hairline. “Why… Why are you just telling me this now?”

“Because I don’t know how,” you shrug, voice cracking, as you wring your hands into a knot and ramble in a single breath: “You told me you didn’t want kids. We agreed that we didn’t want any— So I thought I’d just get rid of it, you know? So we wouldn’t have to worry about it. But I didn’t want to do that without telling you first, but I… I didn’t know how you’d take it, or the pregnancy, and so I just siked myself out—”

“Breathe,” he tells you, ducking down to meet your watery gaze as he takes slow steps towards you. He can feel the panic radiating off of you like steam.

“I was scared you were gonna leave me either way, and then Dr. Al came—”

The name gives him great pause. “Dr. Al? What does Dr. Al have to do with this?”

“Everything!” you answer, a little louder than you mean to be in your hysteria. “She’s perfect! She’s smart, she’s your age, and she’s not actively carrying your child after we agreed that’s not what we wanted— Don’t laugh!”

Robby hides his smile behind his fist.

“I’m not,” he says, struggling to choke back his laughter. “I’m not, okay? I just— I love the shit outta you, you know that?”

He closes the distance between you in a few short strides. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, swaddling you in his inherent warmth and musky cologne. Your hands wrench in the stiff fabric of his scrubs, like you’re worried he might slip away at any moment. Your tense form deflates with a wavering sigh.

“You don’t hate me?” you wonder, muffled into his shoulder.

Your words make his heart ache.

“I couldn’t,” he tells you.

“I just… I feel so bad…”

“Why?” Robby asks with his lips against your hair, right before he presses a chaste kiss there.

“‘Cause I… I didn’t think I wanted a baby. Like, at all. And then I went to the bathroom, and there was blood, and I thought—” You cut yourself off when your voice breaks. “I thought that maybe I lost it, and it made me realize that I do want it— The baby, I mean. But that scares me even more than not having it, ‘cause I don’t know what that means for us—”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he shrugs. “Doesn’t change a thing— whether you want to keep it or you don’t.”

You jerk back from him, flashing the man a teary-eyed scowl. “Don’t just say that ‘cause you don’t wanna hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not,” he promises through a chuckle you can feel rumbling in his chest. “If you don’t wanna have a baby, we’ll take care of it here. But if you do, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll even sell my motorcycle in solidarity.”

“Oh, thank god—” A teary laugh sputters from your mouth before you can stop it. It feels like it’s the first time he’s seen you smile in days. He leans in to press a kiss to it, but you keep him away with your hands to his chest. “Do you really mean it?”

“About the motorcycle?” he presses.

“About having this baby? With me?”

Robby inhales sharply through his nose, calculating his words because he only knows one thing for sure: “I wanna spend the rest of my whole life with you… I’m in it for the long haul, alright? Whatever that looks like.”

When he ducks down to kiss you again, you let him.

You exhale slowly through your nose and savor the feeling of his beard against your skin and the taste of his mouth, a mixture of coffee and spearmint and something without a name but still achingly familiar. Your fingers wrench in the collar of his scrubs to pull him impossibly closer.

The feeling of him against you is louder than the familiar voice outside.

“20 is open. Why is nobody—”

The door swings open again. The two of you just barely manage to pull away from each other when Dr. Al-Hashimi peeks in. She stills suddenly in the threshold, wide eyes darting between the two of you. She gains her bearings in a flicker of a second and calls over her shoulder as she shuts the door behind her.

“Never mind. It’s taken…”

You and Robby hold your breaths until she’s gone.

“Do you think she’ll…?”

“No,” Robby shakes his head. “She won’t tell anybody.”

Your lips curl into a quiet, crooked grin that glimmers mostly in your wet eyes. “Well, I was actually going to ask if she’ll finally stop flirting with you now, but… Good to know.”

“She’s not flirting with me,” Robby scoffs.

“She literally asked you out for drinks earlier. She couldn’t be less subtle if she tried—”

He tilts his scruffy cheek to his shoulder, dark eyes squinting in time with the quiet smile that pulls slowly at his mouth. “You get real pretty when you’re jealous. You know that?”

“Well, I’m about to get real damn adorable, Robinavitch—”

You survive the rest of your shift, but only barely.

It pains you to turn down beers with your coworkers after the fact, but you feel the exhaustion of the day down into your bones, and you opt to save yourself the embarrassment of having to come up with a lie about why you’re not drinking with the rest of them.

Robby hangs around for a bit, just to make it a little less obvious. He sips at his can of beer just long enough for you to walk out of sight before following behind you, where you wait for him at the bus stop around the corner. You make the trek to your shared home together like you do every day, and nobody’s the wiser.

The rest of them are left betting on how long it’ll take for you and Robby to finally start dating while you’re getting ready for bed alongside each other.

“Did you hear me?” the man calls over the drumming shower faucet behind you.

“Mhm,” you hum through the toothbrush in your mouth. “Something about… moving something?”

Your freshly washed hair dampens the collar of your oversized t-shirt, borrowed from Robby’s side of the closet, when you bend over to spit toothpaste into the sink.

“Moving out,” Robby corrects.

“Why would we do that?” you ask, and then, muffled through the toothbrush, say, “We’ll just turn the guest room into a nursery, and then we’ll be set. It’s easy.”

“You say that now, but I know you,” he says with such conviction that it makes you roll your eyes. Without looking at you from behind the opaque shower curtain, he continues, “And don’t roll your eyes at me, either. This baby is gonna be here before we know it, and by then, you’ll wanna get out of here and move somewhere more permanent—”

The hissing shower faucet turns off to a slow, steady drip. Robby reaches blindly for his towel, wiping it down the length of his face before wrapping the fluffy white nettle around his waist. The curtain opens with a faint swishing sound.

Your eyes remain locked on his form through the steamy bathroom mirror as he steps out onto the plush bath mat — pale skin flushed, dark hair wild on his head, scruffy chest dripping, pudgy stomach hanging over the towel.

“And, trust me, honey. The last thing you’re gonna wanna do while you’re nine-months pregnant is move,” Robby continues, meeting your glassy gaze in the mirror. “Or much less with a newborn. Could you imagine?”

You forget to respond for a long beat, with your toothbrush still caught in your mouth, softly jutting out your cheek

Robby’s brows pinch at the glassy-eyed look on your face. His lips quirk into a soft smile behind his glittering beard. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Mhm…”

“Yeah?” Robby grins wider as he closes the distance between you, bare feet padding on the tile. Warmth radiates from his freshly washed skin, which smells distinctively of sweet musky bodywash. You lean further into him, letting his towering body dampen the back of your t-shirt.

He presses his nose to your hair and leaves a chaste kiss to your temple before he mumbles there, “What’d I say then, huh?”

“You said that…” You drag the toothbrush from your mouth, talking through the spit on your tongue and the foam on the corner of your lips. “…My pregnant girlfriend is really hot and super turned on right now, so I should probably take care of that for her before the moment passes and she hates everything again.”

You feel Robby’s chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Yeah, close enough—”

He ducks down to press a longer, wetter kiss to your neck. You giggle quietly when his beard brushes the delicate skin there, shrugging him off with your shoulder as you bend softly at the waist to spit toothpaste in the sink. Robby keeps you at that angle with a wide hand smoothed over your shoulder.

“Oh, we’re doing this here?” you lilt, rinsing off your toothbrush and dropping it back into the cup beside the faucet.

“Well, I’m nothing if not proactive, honey…”

You wipe your mouth off with the hand towel beside the sink and rest your elbows on the counter’s edge. You have only a partial view of Robby’s body in the steamy mirror from this angle — a sliver of his soft stomach, the expanse of his scruffy chest, and the attentive gaze he points at his free hand that trails down your spine and over the curve of your ass.

Your breath catches when his pointer and middle finger run over the most sensitive part of you through the thin cotton of your underwear — from your drooling cunt to the top of your throbbing clit. He presses the pads of his fingertips there, and your exhale leaves in a quiet whimper as you hang your head on your crossed arms.

“Look how sensitive you are already…” Robby hums, almost sympathetically so, as he rubs his fingertips up and down the length of your clothed pussy. “I bet I’ll slip right in… What do you think?”

You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Robby grins to himself at the sight of you, already half-gone, and he’s barely even touched you.

He hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties, dragging them to the side to put your glimmering cunt on display for him. His middle finger slots effortlessly between your folds, slippery like silk under his touch. It slides within your velvety walls with little effort as your cunt clenches around him, subconsciously suckling him further inside.

Another whine sounds in the back of your throat despite yourself as the stress of the day ebbs from your body. Robby can feel it under the palm he keeps curled around your shoulder. He knows you’ll cum for him any second now with how sensitive you’ve gone, but he doesn’t say that out loud. He just keeps searching for your sweet spot as your honey leaks into his palm.

“You shouldn’t have let yourself get all pent up like this, baby…” he mutters in a low voice, slipping in his pointerfinger beside his middle with a similar ease. “Should’ve let me take care of you.”

“I’m sorry,” you hear yourself say — apologizing not just for now, but for earlier that day, and for all the days before when you refused to be open with him.

“Don’t be sorry,” Robby coos in a gravelly voice, too sweet for the sinful words that follow. “Just cum for me.”

You mourn his grounding touch when his hand leaves your shoulder. The protesting whine gets caught in your throat a second later when he curls his left arm around your waist and presses his fingers to your clit again, rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive button.

His touch is unrelenting. A honeyed pleasure starts to bloom within you almost instantly. A coil in the pit of your stomach threatens to snap, wound tight from a week or more of not being touched.

“Please fuck me,” you hear yourself beg through panted breaths as you lift your heavy head to meet Robby’s gaze in the mirror. Your eyes glaze over with pleasure. Your thighs start to tremble around his hand. You whine again, “Please fuck me…”

“This isn’t the only time you’re gonna cum tonight,” Robby promises you, warns you. “So just go ahead and cum for me. I got you.”

Your head drops back onto your arms again. Your hips buck against his fingers, chasing the pleasure and running from it all at once. You rise to the tips of your toes when the buzzing pleasure crescendos. Your body tenses, trembles, then releases when the orgasm finally hits you. You cage your bottom lip between your teeth when your leaking pussy flutters around Robby’s fingers.

“There you go…” you hear him praise through the heartbeat in your ears. “C’mon. Give it to me. I want all of it. C’mon…”

His fingers never let up, even after the high has come and gone and left nothing more than tremoring aftershocks in his wake.

Your blissful moans turn into strangled whines as the sensitivity increases — a pleasure you crave, but a pleasure that terrifies you nonetheless.

“It’s okay,” Robby rambles in a gentle coo. “I got you— It’s okay. Just give me one more. I got you.”

You whimper when his fingers drag out of your cunt. You’re left clenching around nothing when he hooks his right arm loosely around your neck, dragging you up against his scruffy chest, still damp from the shower.

Your head tips back against his shoulder as your hands curl around his biceps. You watch through lidded eyes in the foggy mirror as Robby sticks his middle and forefinger into his mouth, licking your honey from his skin and sighing at the familiar taste of you. You whine at the sinful sight, and at the man’s fingers on your clit that refuse to slow down.

Your right hand slips from his arm and reaches blindly behind you, slipping in between your bodies. The towel unknots and pools around Robby’s barefeet when your hand wraps around his stiff cock. He’s softer than velvet in your fist, and leaking pearls of precum that your thumb swipes over.

A groan sounds deep in Robby’s throat. A dazed grin tugs at your mouth.

“Cum for me,” you tell him through labored breaths.

“You first,” Robby huffs, then commands. “Put your leg up.”

You bend your knee and rest your foot on the shelf below the counter, opening yourself up for him. You sigh a low moan. Robby exhales through his nose in place of a laugh.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” the man pants in a gruff voice, gritting his teeth through the distant stinging in his wrist — ‘cause he’d sooner lose the feeling in his hand than stop now. He smiles lazily when you nod against his shoulder, digging crescent shapes into his bicep with the hand not massaging his twitching cock.

“Hold it.”

Your breath catches at his command. It makes the warmth in the pit of your stomach swell all at once. Your body tenses instinctively to hold it off.

“Wait for me,” Robby says, breath fanning against your cheek. “I’m almost there— Fuck.”

You turn your head, and he catches your mouth with his own. He kisses you like he’s trying to swallow you whole, licks into your parted lips like he’s tasting you for the very first time. His tongue feels like velvet as it ruts against yours — you can feel every grunt that rumbles in his throat as his orgasm nears; he can feel each of your whimpers as your second one sends shockwaves down your spine.

Your thumb swipes over the sensitive head of his cock, collecting the drools of precum there, and using that as lubricant to jerk the rest of him in your fist. Robby exhales a low grunt just before he parts from you with a quiet smack.

“Cum,” he pants, eyes heavy and lips kissed. “Right now. Cum right now. Shit.”

You cum for him again, not as quick or as powerful as the one before, but still enough to bring you to your knees if it weren’t for Robby’s strong arm keeping you to his chest. You whine as the coil in your stomach unknots itself, and as Robby’s twitching cock spits warm cum along the top of your fist.

He ducks down to bury his face in your neck, nipping at the burning skin while he groans through the waves of his own orgasm. You bury your nose in his damp hair as your high comes and goes, inhaling the sweet musk of shampoo in his silky brown locks.

There’s a lazy smile hinting at the edges of your mouth when Robby catches your eye in the mirror.

You hold his gaze when you release his softening cock, flashing him the glittering pearls of milky cum on your skin as you bring your hand to your mouth. Your pink tongue darts out to lick the salty tang away. Robby exhales a rumbling groan against you at the sight.

“Just give me a second…” he says through labored breaths. “And I’ll fuck you like you want…”

“Nah, you’re down for the count, Robinavitch,” you quip with a smile, parting from him for the first time in several minutes to flip the faucet back on to wash your hands. “You’ll be asleep before you can get it up again.”

“Hey,” he scolds, feigning offense, as he reaches for the discarded towel on the floor.

“It’s okay,” you shrug with a knowing glint in your eye. “It was a long day.”

“Well, if you weren’t so greedy, I’d have you face down in the bed right now,” he says, only partially playful, as he tucks his towel into place around his hips.

“Ooh. That sounds fun,” you lilt, flicking water from your fingertips before you turn the sink off again. “Raincheck?”

“Raincheck?” Robby scoffs in amusement. “Get your ass in that bedroom.”

The act of dominance makes your chest flare with a warm feeling. You smile all giddy as you walk by him. “Think if you fuck me good enough, we’ll have twins?”

Robby laughs at your stupid joke, a sharp breath through his broad nose. “I guess we’re about to find out…”

You could feel your face setting on fire as you desperately tried to think of what to do.

Robby’s eyes weren’t on you anymore as he got rid of his jacket and boots… this would be the perfect time to get up and scurry away towards the bedroom… Robby’s bedroom— Shit.

Your hands went to cover your bare tits as you tried to come up with something else.

“Decided to cut my sabbatical short,” Robby was explaining, “You all were right- as it turns out, I can’t go more than a month without the ED.”

You heard and felt Jack’s snicker, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles where he still held your waist.

His hard cock was still deep inside you, and as much as you hated having to depart from it, you really needed to get off and try to at least regain some decency.

Which is what you tried to do. You began rising from Jack’s lap, but in an instant, his eyes were on you, his brows furrowed.

“Where you going, sweetheart?”

He can’t be serious right now.

You glanced pointedly at Robby behind him, your voice barely a whisper as you murmured his name.

“It’s alright, honey, Robby doesn’t mind,” he spoke softly, his hands caressing you softly. “Do you, Robby?”

Robby’s soft chuckle came from somewhere closer than where he’d previously been.

“I sure don’t,” He was smirking once you slowly raised your gaze.

He’d walked to the edge of the couch, right behind Jack.

You felt your face burn with embarrassment- and yet your pussy clenched harder around Abbot as you caught Michael’s eyes drink you in.

“We were having such a good time,” Jack murmured, his mouth on your collarbones as he pecked your skin, “Would be a shame to stop now.”

Oh God, he was being serious.

“Jack- I-”

Were you dreaming? Was this one of the sick fantasies that materialized in your mind whenever Robby and Abbot were both on shift, and you had to squeeze your tights together at how incredibly hot of a pair they made?

Everything seemed to point in that direction, except for the fact that the feel of Jack’s fingers removing your hands from your naked chest was very much real- the same went for Robby’s voice.

“You know, sweetheart... we had a talk about you before I went away.”

You were bare again now, and Jack was making use of the space, filling it with delicious, taunting kisses as Michael spoke.

“Decided none of us were gonna try anything... didn’t wanna take advantage of you or anything….” His voice was rough and soft all at once as his hand went to cradle your cheek, “and now look at that.”

Heat bloomed low in your belly and on your cheeks as you heard yourself whimper.

What he was saying was… unbelievable. They liked you- both of them. Just as you liked them.

This was really happening- Dr. Robinavitch was watching you as you sat on Dr. Abbot’s cock. And they both looked incredibly casual, as if this were a daily occurrence.

“Since when has this been going on?”

When you didn’t answer, Jack stopped his ministrations on your neck to speak, “Just two weeks, man.”

“Is he lying to me?” Robby asked you, his head tilted in doubt.

“N-no,” You murmured as you cowered under his stare.

To that, he smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “A week- that’s how long you lasted.”

“C’mon, man- you knew it was bound to happen.” Jack groaned, looking at you with a smirk as his mouth ghosted yours, “You’re too pretty not to do something about it.”

You felt your heart skip, and your hips involuntarily grind against Jack’s lap- causing you to whimper pathetically.

“Oh sweetheart…” Abbot cooed, his hands going back to rest on your hips, “Go on, take what you need.”

There was nothing you wanted to do more. As unusual as this situation was, you were so turned on that you feared you’d start dripping on the couch any second now.

Yet you watched the two men uncertainly, biting your lip as you went against your instinct to use Jack’s manhood to feel good.

“Go on, baby,” Robby encouraged you once your eyes settled on him, “Do as he said.”

His palm was still on your cheek, his thumb pulling on your lower lip to free it from your teeth’s grip… and you had no choice but to obey.

You started slow, shily grinding onto him, feeling Jack’s dick graze and reach all those sweet spots inside of you as your clit rubbed against his base.

Your mouth hung open as soft whines filtered through your throat. Robby’s hands held your face so you could only look at him- and the look in his eyes… the darkness in his iris and the locking of his jaw gave you all the more incentive to go faster.

You began raising yourself on Jack’s dick just to slide back down again until you found the delicious pace from before your interruption.

Your moans weren’t so quiet anymore as you struggled to keep your eyes open and gripped Jack’s shoulders for dear life, your nails probably leaving crescent moons on his skin.

“So good for me, baby,” Jack murmured against your neck, resuming his kisses on your salty skin as he thoroughly enjoyed the show. “Such a good girl.”

You cried like a desperate little thing at that, his dick hitting that spongy spot inside of you that had you feeling on cloud nine.

“Jack feels good, baby?” Robby’s voice felt muffled, as if the pleasure was acting as a sound shield.

“Y-yes,” You whined, your voice breathless, your movements more and more desperate, “B-big,” you cried brokenly.

You felt Abbot’s growl vibrate against your chest at that, and seconds later, you felt his mouth against your ear as he whispered loud enough for Robby to hear, “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

You didn’t have the brain capacity to understand what he meant by that, or to analyze the grin that spread Michael’s lips at those words, because all you could focus on was the growing sensation that sparked in your belly.

“Oh my god,” You whined, your thighs burning with the effort as the sound of your skin slapping with Jack’s echoed against the walls.

“It’s ok, baby,” Robby murmured, watching closely as your eyes almost closed and your brows furrowed in bliss, “You’re doing so good.”

You didn’t even realize you were doing it, but as Robby guided his thumb into your mouth, instinctually, your lips closed around it, sucking him in further.

“That’s it, baby,” he nodded, the weight of his finger on your tongue making you wish it was replaced by his cock. And that image… that image made your orgasm approach even faster.

Your moans were silenced by Robby’s thumb, but Jack could feel your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he commanded, kissing the spot right beneath your ear. “Be a good girl and show Robby how pretty you look when you come.”

That was it.

You didn’t even have time to mentally prepare yourself that a bright white flash of pure ecstasy overtook your soul.

You came like the world would end tomorrow, your pussy spasming around Jack as he couldn’t help but follow suit.

Somewhere in the frenzy, you could hear Abbot’s groans while Robby murmured what appeared to be soft words to you, his hand never leaving your face.

The pounding of your heart thumped in your ears as you tried to calm your breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open to both the men looking at you, Jack’s eyes soft with gratification and adoration, while Robby’s irises swirled with lust and just plain need.

“You wanna switch?”

Jack’s words didn’t even make sense to you. You were still lost in the haze of what had just happened.

“Not on the couch, man.” Robby shook his head, his lips pulling into a small smile as he watched you. “Let’s get on the bed, baby.”

__ __  __

Your legs felt like jelly as Robby towered over you.

You knew what was happening, and yet your brain was still buffering.

His lips were so close to yours… just a few inches and you’d be kissing him.

But that’s not what he had in mind.

“Lay down for me, baby.”

You blinked, needing a second to understand his command and do as told.

The mattress was soft, the comfy duvet wrinkling underneath you as you laid back, your wide eyes watching him.

With a quick move, he removed his shirt, throwing it behind him… in the direction of Abbot.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning against the wall, his eyes dark as he watched the scene unfold.

By the time you looked back, Robby was naked- and your lungs took another toll.

You were propped on your elbows, shamelessly eying all of him. His broad chest, the dark hair on his pecs, on his belly, until your gaze lowered just enough to catch his cock-

You were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing completely.

That’s what they’d been talking about.

You really had seen nothing yet.

You swallowed dryly as his big hand wrapped around his dick, giving it two slow strokes that had him seemingly grow even more.

Your eyes were wide as he stalked closer to you, his smirk everlasting.

“R-Robby,” you stuttered, clearly intimidated.

“’S alright, baby. I’ll go real slow.”

“I-I- How…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “spread your legs for me, baby.”

And even if your heart was going crazy and your brain was telling you that was an impossible fit, you did as told.

“Wider.”

You slid your feet further across the bed, opening yourself up to him completely, eliciting a delighted groan.

“Pretty,” he murmured, his palm going to your mound and his thumb moving to your folds, exploring slowly.

Jack’s come was still leaking out of you, creating a sultry mixture with your own juices.

Your cheeks heated at his unabashed gaze, but then his other hand grabbed the base of his manhood, his tip suddenly parting your folds, and all thoughts left your head.

You were whimpering already, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and Michael would have done anything to record those sweet sounds and listen to them on repeat all day long.

“It’s ok, baby, relax for me.” That’s all he murmured, as he started guiding his impossibly thick tip inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped, your eyes wide open as you watched him thrust into you.

He was looking at where your bodies melted into one another, watching your greedy pussy swallow him in.

The stretch burned at first- he had the biggest cock you’d ever seen after all- counting porn- but his soft growls and groans were making you all the more pliant.

His thumb started circling your clit to help you out as broken cries fled your throat.

He was retracting his hips just to thrust softly into you, over and over again, filling you up inch by never-ending inch.

“O-Oh my god,” You were crying, your hands fisting the sheets as he kept going.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he reassured you, his free hand tight on our waist. “Stretching so good for me- such a good girl.”

Your walls tightened around him at that, causing him to hiss.

“Let me in- just like that… good girl”

You knew the moment he was in to the hilt, because you could barely breathe at the feeling of how unbelievably full you felt.

Breathy gasps spilled from your lips as your gazes met.

“Told you you could do it,” he smirked, before he started to move.

The moan you let out at the first full, deep thrust was more of a scream.

“Robby!” you gasped, your fingers gripping his forearm as he started building his pace.

His back hurt like a motherfucker from all those hours on his bike, but he’ll be damned if he denied himself this sight.

“He always makes you do all the work?”

How his voice was still so even when you could barely breathe, let alone think, was a mystery.

You want to tell him the truth, that no, Jack was usually very much adamant in his need to take care of you, to pin you beneath him and fuck you thoroughly well into the day… but all you could manage was a whine.

You watched his lips pull into a grin at the state he’d rendered you in.

“Oh, c’mon, brother, I’ve just come back from a twelve-hour shift,” Jack defended himself from his spot against the wall as your eyes found him.

You could see from the bed, even with his boxers back on, that he was hard again.

God, this was all so hot.

The way both their eyes were only focused on you as Robby’s thrusts had you bouncing up on the bed, your tits moving in tandem with his harsh movements…

“And she hasn’t?” Robby raised his brows, shooting Jack a quick, disappointed look, before coming back to you.

“You don’t have to worry about it now, baby,” he spoke softly, the thumb he still had on your bundle of nerves resuming its torturous movements. “I’ll take care of you like you deserve from now on.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at those words.

Your hips were chasing his movements, forcing the loud smacking of his skin hitting your core over and over again to get even louder.

You could feel every inch of his dick inside you, every vein and ridge slide against your velvety walls as his tip speared you and reached parts of you no one ever could find but him.

And with a feeling like that… it was inevitable for tears to gather in your eyes, your vision blurring as a knot of pleasure tightened inside you.

“Oh baby, I know it’s a lot.” his voice was calming, soothing your overexited system.

It was a lot. He was a whole damn lot.

“Just take it,” he cooed, “Don’t think about it, sugar, just be good for me and Jack, yeah?”

You slowly nodded, tears rolling down your temples and onto the sheets as the air filled with your moans.

“That’s it, pretty girl— that’s it.”

And suddenly, it was all too much.

“I-I- Oh my-”

He groaned at how tight you got. His chest inflating with the effort not to come on the spot.

“Let go, baby,” he instructed. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The last thing you saw was his smile; everything after that was sort of a blur.

A tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body; you were pretty sure you were moaning his name like a prayer as you experienced a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your eyes and ears started functioning again as Robby’s thrusts got sloppier, more erratic.

He grinned as you whimpered at the overstimulation, his groans getting louder as he got closer, until he spilled inside you with a feral roar.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed after several moments, slowly pulling out of you.

Jack had gotten beside him somewhere in the meantime, and both men’s eyes fell to the release spilling out of your spent core.

“C’mere,” you whined, breaking them out of their amazed trance.

They both smiled, and it was Jack who joined you on the bed first, moving you so your head could rest on the pillow as he spooned you, wrapping his arms around you.

“You did real good, sweetheart,” he murmured to your ear, his stubble grazing your skin as your eyes fluttered shut.

You were exhausted.

You didn’t even hear Robby lying down next to you until he placed your head to rest on his chest.

“So… am I gonna have to sanitize every surface of the house?”

A soft laugh fled your throat as Jack grinned amusedly.

“The kitchen should be saf—” The look you sent Jack had him suddenly remember all the alternative meals he’d consumed on the kitchen counter. “No, yeah… the whole apartment.”

That wasn’t enough reason yet to dislike him—it was an interesting field after all—but his behavior in the classes you shared sure as hell was.

Ryland always knew better.

No matter who said what, you could be sure that Mr. Grace would raise his hand and add his two cents to the discussion. Sometimes it was a genuinely useful addition to whatever had been discussed, and sometimes it was more of a summary with maybe an extra comment mixed in, but it was never, ever wrong.

Maybe that's what irked you the most; he wasn’t some arrogant asshole with a big mouth but nothing to back it up with. No, he was smart, extremely so, and he knew it.

However, no matter how intelligent, his behavior was just downright rude. At first, you assumed it was a misogyny thing. That he was the typical mansplaining chauvinist who thought that if only he talked louder than the women around him, it proved that he was smarter than they could ever even imagine.

But then one day, one of your professors after a lecture casually asked you whether you thought it appropriate to wear a skirt that ended above the knee to class, to which Ryland—who had been trailing behind in the way he always does; as if he could catch some last-minute wisdom if only he waited until everyone else left—without hesitation asked the professor whether he thought it appropriate to ask a student that, and what the universities policies on sexual harassment were.

Your professor left red-faced, muttering under his breath, and you had to admit to yourself that while Ryland was a dick, he wasn’t a sexist one.  

He was a sexy one, though.

The way he afterward asked you whether you were okay, only to then subsequently after you answered him, tell you that he thought you were completely in the wrong about what you said during the lecture, made your mouth run dry.  

So, you spent the next couple of months arguing back and forth with Ryland. Whether in class, in the hallways between lectures, in the lab, when he walked you to your car in the evenings, in the car on the nights you drove him home because it was pouring outside, during shared lunches, and then ultimately, in his apartment—which led to in his bedroom, and then in his bed.

There, you very quickly found out two things: Ryland couldn’t stop his attitude no matter where, and the bedroom was the one place where you gladly embraced that character quirk of his.  

Where you would normally have no issue telling him exactly where he could shove it when he got too obnoxious, when you two started fucking, your brain felt blissfully foggy, and you turned pliant in his hands.

The first time it happened, you were unsure how to react to the shift in dynamics. In that moment, when he wore his arrogant grin and nothing else, and would look at you, shake his head mockingly and say something like, ‘Aww, what, now you’re quiet? It only took me touching you a couple of seconds for your perfect little brain to shut off completely, huh sweetheart?’ you loved it. But afterwards, the shame that had felt so good in the moment lingered.

You feared that letting him see you so vulnerable was a mistake which he would gladly exploit, the same way he did that one time you missed classes for a couple of days because you had the flu, and he made you practically beg for his notes.

But instead of doing anything like that, he got up afterwards, cleaned you up, got you some water, and then went back into the bed where he pulled you close to his chest, and then started arguing about something one of your peers had said in class. He said that it was so stupid he couldn’t believe that they weren’t kicked out for it. You disagreed, and after about twenty minutes of quarreling, he relented, letting you win the argument.  

You left his apartment the next morning, bright-eyed, and with butterflies swarming in your stomach from the orgasms Ryland had skillfully goaded out of you. (The excitement was definitely just because of the good sex, and nothing more!)

You two didn’t stop arguing though. If anything, it was the opposite, you still argued about 90% of the time when you talked, it was just that now, some of those arguments were less irritation, and more foreplay.

However, there was the unspoken rule of ‘whatever happened in the bedroom—or wherever else you fucked—stayed in the bedroom’. That was a line neither of you crossed, never discussing anything beforehand, nor bringing it up afterward. Both of you knew each other’s limits, leaving your relationship like a stack of cards, vulnerable to any gust blowing your way; and the day it finally collapsed, Ryland must have waltzed into the lecture hall like a fucking hurricane.

The morning had started off shit already. Your alarm didn’t go off, leaving you to scramble to get ready in under ten minutes. Then, on the way to campus, your parents called, reminding you that you hadn’t visited in so long, and that they thought you looked tired in the last pictures you sent, and ‘oh, your brother is doing so well in pre-med, and why didn’t you choose medicine as well?’.

You were glad when you reached your destination and had to hang up. Only at that point you were five minutes too late, the class having already begun.

You tried to sneak into the lecture hall as quietly as possible, but the door creaked and suddenly dozens of gazes were on you, including your professor’s. She didn’t say anything, just gave you a look that made it clear that she expected more of you, and then continued.

Your heart was racing, and for a second you stood frozen, the closed door behind you being the only reason why you didn’t instantly turn back around and leave. You were only pulled out of your state by a tiny crumpled-up piece of paper hitting your arm. You looked to your left where it had come from and found Ryland signaling for you to sit down next to him.

While you didn’t sit with him often during class—neither of you could pay the needed amount of attention when with each other, too busy trying to one up each other—it also wasn’t so out of the ordinary that you thought anything of it.

If anything, you were relieved at the kind gesture, considering your professor probably wouldn’t have accepted you standing in the entrance for the rest of the period.

You made your way over to him, and he even moved his stuff a bit so that you had more space, something that didn’t come lightly from Ryland, who normally needed more expanse for his notes than most do for their bedroom.

“You’re late,” he said, eyes wandering between the front of the class and you.

“I am? Thanks for pointing that out. I nearly didn’t realize it,” you answered distractedly, taking out your stuff.

But that wasn’t good enough for him; you knew he hated only getting half of your awareness.

“What’s the matter? Got lost on the way to campus?” He must be bored, the way he had now turned most of his attention toward you and away from your professor.

“No, I—shit,” you cursed quietly after dropping a pencil. It rolled on the floor and down to the next rows of tables, and you resigned yourself to never seeing it again—you weren’t going to start crawling on classroom floors for some random Bic Biro.

“Jesus, you really have it this morning, hm?”

You closed your eyes briefly. “Ryland, just…” He was riled up, you could tell by the way he leaned a bit too close, his voice low and raspy. Although you couldn’t even begin to imagine what got him so hot and bothered at 9 am on a Tuesday that he could barely sit still. “Listen to Professor Moratz, please.”

“Alright, alright.” He lifted his hands placatingly. He was silent for less than five seconds before he continued, “She’s just recapping last week’s lecture right now, anyway.”

You took a deep breath, choosing to ignore him. Hopefully, he’d get the hint that you weren’t in the mood right now—whatever mood he was trying to arouse.

“C’mon, you’re ignoring me now?” he prodded, shifting closer.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m listening to our professor.”

“Well, you should be listening to me.” His voice took on a more serious tone. You knew that tone a little too well. So, you should have known what came next. “No need to try to listen and understand all this; I know that’s a little difficult for you sometimes.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Ryland,” you said, your voice making it clear that you weren’t on board with whatever he was trying to start.

But, like most of the time, Ryland completely breezed past the social cues, landing wherever he wanted to get to. “Don’t get embarrassed now.” He smirked. “Or do; you look cute flushed.”

“Ryland, we’re in public.” You started fiddling with the pen between your fingers. You were feeling flushed, but not in the way you enjoyed, more like everyone was already staring at you and following your every movement.

“Hasn’t stopped us before.” He shrugged.

“Ryland, stop. Seriously.”

“Okay.”

“I want to listen.”

“Okay,” he said, tapped his fingers twice on the table, and then leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “Do you even need me to fuck your brain out anymore? If you have such big problems just listening to our professor, then maybe there wasn’t much to begin with.”   

Your breath hitched. His words hit deeper than normally, or maybe higher, no matter, without meaning to, your eyes fill with tears, and you turn your face away from him.

“Yeah, you like that,” he croons, leaning closer. “Of course, you do. You poor thing must be—” he brushed a piece of your hair away, took a closer look at your expression, and then froze. “Hey, are you okay?”

He sounded genuinely bewildered, and the light trace of his fingertips against your cheek made you shiver. You needed to get out.  

Without waiting one more moment, you gathered all the material before you, stuffed it back in your bag, and got up, leaving Ryland behind. You walked out of class with your eyes stuck to the floor, avoiding looking at anyone. The moment you heard the door fall shut behind you, your shoulders dropped, and with it, a sob broke out of you. You pressed your hand over your mouth to muffle it and quickly hurried away.

Tears were streaming down your face, making your vision blurry. It was a wonder you didn’t bump into anyone on your way outside, but somehow you managed it, only slowing your stride once you reached the familiar location.

It was one of your favorite spots on campus. Located behind the library and mostly hidden out of sight by a cluster of trees, stood a stone bench that must be older than your parents, from the look of it. The trees protected it from the worst of the weather, so while it wasn’t the newest, it was still comparatively clean.

You slumped down on it, dropping your head between your knees. You were still crying, and you hoped it would last for a bit longer, because while you were crying, you couldn’t think about what had just happened. The second you’d realize the magnitude of it, you were sure you’d sink into the floor to hopefully be reborn as a tree, or maybe a particularly spherical stone.

When you heard footsteps approaching, you lifted your feet off the ground, placing them before you on the bench. You were still hiding your face in your legs, with your arms wrapped around them, but at least you weren’t hunched over anymore.

It was obvious who was approaching, and he was kind of the last person you wanted to see.  

“Oh, there you are.” Relief was evident in Ryland’s voice. You still didn’t look at him, but you heard his footsteps stop before you. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer, hoping that maybe the silence would get him to leave. But because it was Ryland, your silence seemed to only spur him on. He kneeled down before you, and through your legs you could see him reach for you before letting his arm fall back down.

“Hey, seriously, you’re scaring me here,” he said. “Can you at least give me a sign you’re alive in there?” You gave him a thumbs-up, and he chuckled quietly. “Okay, good. That’s a good start. Can I…” He hesitantly touched your hand, and when you nodded, took it between both of his, his fingers drawing soothing little circles into your skin.

“You wanna look at me?” he asked. You shook your head, and instead of arguing, he just mumbled a low, “Okay.” And settled down on the ground, still holding your hand.

You sat there for a couple of minutes, listening to the distant noise of the bustling campus and the rustling of the leaves, hiding you from the rest of the world. With your legs pulled to your chest, the stone bench quickly turned uncomfortable under your butt, and you hesitantly moved off the bench, down next to Ryland.

He shifted a bit, leaving you sitting shoulder to shoulder. He always ran a bit warmer than you, and even now his body temperature was like a comforting beacon, making your muscles untense slowly.

A bird chirped, and as if taking that as his cue, Ryland tightened his grip on your hand before turning toward you slightly, keeping his shoulder to yours but still facing you. “Did I hurt you somehow?”

He sounded like he was trying his best to keep his distress under wrap, and guilt flooded your body, making you finally look up at him.

“No, of course not.”

He rolled his eyes, although it’s clearly more directed at himself than you, and then sighed, “Yes, I—I did. I’m sorry.”

“Ryland,” you caught his eye, needing him to understand. “You didn’t… hurt me.”

“You’re crying,” he pointed out, and for once he didn’t sound happy about winning an argument. “If I didn’t hurt you, I at least overstepped majorly.”

You looked away at that because, yeah, that he did. But it wasn’t that simple, and it would be unfair to leave him alone with the guilt. “You can’t really overstep, we never laid down any guidelines or anything.”

“You said stop. It doesn’t matter what we did or did not discuss, that one’s pretty clear.” He was getting frustrated. You opened your mouth to disagree with him again, and he cut you off. “No, stop doing that. Don’t defend my behavior for me, that’s messed up.”

You fell silent, unsure how to continue, or what he wanted from you.

Ryland sighed again, running a hand over his face. When he looked back at you, his expression was soft, eyes full of sincerity. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at… this.”

“This?” you asked.

“Communication,” Ryland whispered the word as if it were a horror story he was sharing during a sleepover. You laughed, and his face lit up.

“Yeah, well, to be fair, I doubt I’ll win any awards in that category either,” you said, pulling your legs closer and leaning your cheek on your knees. Ryland briefly followed your movements, twisting his head to the side and grinning before straightening himself again. He removed one of his hands from where they held you, caressing the side of your calf.

“Now that we've established that we both need to get our shit together, can you tell me what happened?”

You swallowed, looking down at the ground. Ryland just continued stroking your leg, waiting patiently for you to start speaking.  

“I just had a shitty morning, and then you…” You wanted to drop your head back down into your knees, but Ryland quickly took a hold of your chin, his thumb brushing over your jaw once, before returning his hand to your calf. You chuckled lightly. “The way we—you—talk and act when we have sex is… a lot, to say the least.”

Ryland’s fingers stopped moving, and a horrified expression spread over his features. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no. Can you just listen for a second?” You glared at him weakly.

He grinned, nodding. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, which made you roll your eyes.

“I do like it. A lot. But it’s also…” You don’t know how to continue and bite your lip as you felt your nose start to prickle again. You blinked away any oncoming tears, but you couldn’t look at him when you asked the question that had been on your mind for quite some time now. “You don’t actually think I’m dumb, do you?”

“What?” Ryland sounded genuinely appalled at that. “Of course not! You’re like—you are probably the smartest person I know. It’s infuriating how intelligent you are, that’s why I love spending time with you. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who can keep up with me.”

Your cheeks heated up. His reassurance was exactly what you needed, but your mind got stuck on one little detail he mentioned. “You love spending time with me?”

“I—” Ryland licked his lips, and now he was the one looking away, his ears turning a pretty red. “I mean, yeah.” He shrugged, his fingers tapping in an uncoordinated rhythm against you. “Do you not like spending time with me?”

“No, I do,” you assured him.

“Good,” he said more to himself.

“Yeah?” You grinned.

“Yeah.” He grinned back at you. The next couple of seconds were spent grinning at each other dumbly, the world around you momentarily forgotten.

“But seriously,” Ryland broke the moment, his tone taking on a more sober note. “I don’t actually believe any of the things I say to you when we’re having sex.” You lifted an eyebrow, and he conceited, “Alright, most things. But definitely not any of the negative stuff about you. And if you want to, I’ll stop saying all of that.”

“No,” you said a bit too intently. “No, that’s not what I want. But maybe we should start discussing some things.”

“That would probably be good, yeah.” He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer until you leaned against him. “M’sorry, you had a crappy morning. Can I make it up to you somehow?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Indulge me,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “You want a coffee from that nice café we went to last month?”

You sighed exaggeratedly, “If you insist. Twist my arm, why don’t you?”

“We’ll discuss that later, too.” He winked at you and got up, pulling you to your feet. But before you could walk away, he took hold of your shoulders, waiting until you looked at him. “I promise you I’ll do everything I can to not make you feel that way again.”

“I know,” you said, and from the way his shoulders dropped and his smile widened, he believed you.

“Thank you,” he said, and then kissed your forehead, your nose, and then your lips. Your stomach swooped at the gentle acts. That kind of intimacy between you hadn’t made it out of the bedroom before. “C’mon,” he said, motioning with his head to the side before putting his arm around your waist and steering you away from the bench.  

Suddenly, you groaned, which made him look at you questioningly. “I made a complete fool of myself by storming out like that.”

“What? Nooo,” he said, wearing a shit-eating grin.

You lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re an asshole, Ryland,” you said, and then giggled at his affronted expression.

“Don’t worry about it. If Mike got away with messing up DNA and RNA twice in one presentation, you’ll be just fine.”

You rolled your eyes at his haughty tone.

“Why were you so riled up, anyway?”

“Because Mike should know the basics of biology by now.”

“No,” you grinned. “Earlier. I had barely sat down before you were all over me.”

“Oh,” Ryland said, suddenly sounding a lot less smug. “I, uh, had a rather… vivid dream.”

“Seriously,” you chuckled. “You had a wet dream and so thought it’d be a good idea to get it on in the lecture hall?” 

Ryland lightly pinched your side, making you squeal. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s discuss all this over a good ol’ cup of coffee, hm?”

“And then afterwards, we can revisit whatever went on in your dream.” You shrugged innocently. 

It felt like the right thing. Ocean waves lapping to wash the day away. Getting swept into the current of kisses was easy given the day you'd had.

Exhausting, that's the summary of it. Just one wrong step after another leaving shadows that haunted your day. You try your best to let it go, to let today end so you can just start new.

Kara's hands slipping beneath your shirt feels good. It feels refreshing, allowing your mind to just pause. It's nearly impossible to think of anything else when her tongue is pressed into yours and her fingers are working to unhook your bra.

You cup her cheeks, your mouth chasing right after her's anytime you were parted. You're trying to keep up, trying let it all go, trying to be absorbed into her.

Her goal is simple, please you. She had listened to your day, offered words of comfort. When that first kiss had landed it was easy to continue. It's a distraction too obvious to ignore.

But even now the day haunts you. The distraction fails, and it doesn't matter how good it feels to have Kara's fingers undressing you with such ease.

"Kara," your voice quietly pushes through a few kisses. "Kara, wait…"

She catches your upper lip in a quick kiss, mind otherwise occupied on undoing those hooks at your back. "Yeah, baby?"

You press your forehead against hers, not wanting her to leave but needing things to be put on pause. A part of you hesitates to confess, "It's not working. I thought… I don't know, I thought I could get into it."

Her hands immediately stop, palms pressing to your back as she readjusts with a changed goal. Her eyes open, scanning yours so she can find the problem and give the appropriate solution. Your heart's pounding, had been all day.

"Okay." Kara gives a curt nod, her nose brushing yours with the movement. "We'll stop."

Guilt tries to consume you. "Are you sure? I'm sorry to have started something just to flake on it."

"Hey, no." Her hands move to hold your face, thumb swiping over your cheekbone. "No, I'm glad you're telling me. You're not flaking on anything, you're taking care of yourself."

Kara has that smile pasted on her lips. The one that says she's proud. The one that reminds you how much she loves you (though the smile can only show a fraction of that). The one that welcomes your heart to melt into hers because she's got you.

"It was just a lot." Your voice is vulnerable now, and your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

Kara's brows furrow with concern, nodding again to affirm. "Yeah, fuck today." Her voice matches your volume.

You chuckle at her colorful response. Her eyes make sure to catch the way the corners of your lips curl into a smile—even if only for a moment. Her thumb smoothes over your cheek another time, and she relishes the way you lean into her touch.

She speaks the softest you've ever heard her speak, "No, seriously, fuck today. Fuck anything that gets in your way."

In her foul-mouthed softness she presses a kiss to your cheek. You sniffle, closing your eyes and just letting this carry you to comfort. The second your eyes are shut, she's pressing a kiss there too. Then your nose, your other cheek, your chin, that same first cheek again. Wherever her lips could find on your face.

It starts to tingle with how quickly she was moving, inviting laughter to fill your lungs. When you open your eyes again you see her just taking you in. It's not that oh my god, you're so fragile and I have to protect you look anymore, but that oh my god you mean absolutely everything and I have to support you gaze.

"Thank you." You lean forward to return at least one of the kisses, landing on her lips.

Your lips softly click as she returns the kiss. "My pleasure."

She means it. Kara is thrilled to just exist on the same planet with you, so this? It means something to her that she's built this with you. That she is the one you chose to go to even at the end of a rough day. That you sought her out, and she was helping you to just relax.

"Can I just hold you?" Kara asks, her hands moving to your waist. "We can lay in bed, just rotting away together for the rest of the night."

You smile happily at that offer. "That'd be perfect."

She's not forcing it to be fixed, or insisting that tomorrow will be better. She's just letting it be what it is. The day sucked, whatever. You had her now.

Her smile is somehow larger than your own and she covers your face with kisses galore as her hands go to the back of your legs to scoop you up in her arms. Your legs wrap around her waist, laughter allowing itself to be louder now.

She's dramatic with every step of it. Kara finds it to be so easy to be foolish for you. So her kisses continue, quick and ticklish, and she takes just a few steps towards you bedroom before her feet lift off the ground and she flies you both the rest of the way.

You're laughing quiet, her lips brushing your teeth as you smile into her next kiss. "Are you seriously flying us one room over?"

"It's efficient," she lazily shrugs, pressing a longer kiss into your lips before gently laying you down on the bed.

"It's silly," you reply, unwrapping your legs from her but resting your hands on her shoulders.

Kara lowers, her knees on either side of your legs as she lands softly over your body. "Did you just call me silly?" She feigns offense.

You smile, "I absolutely did."

"You'd better take it back." Her voice holds no threat.

"I can't take back the truth." Your fingers reach to tuck her hair behind her ear.

The rest of her hair falls around both your faces like a curtain. "Well, I guess that's true."

"You're giving up that easily, huh?" You tease.

Kara huffs, giving you a tender, lingering kiss before plopping her body right next to yours. "I recognize a losing battle, and I'm a pretty sore loser so I'd might as well quit while I'm ahead."

You hum, turning on your side to face her. "I don't really think you were very far ahead."

"Shhh, baby, let me hold you." She can't stop her grin from spreading, but pulls you into her before you can get too good of a look.

It's easy. Your arm drapes over her waist, your head rests on her chest. Her hand splays over your back and rubs some soothing circles, and her chin rests atop your head. She's warm, and the gentle, rhythmic beating of her heart helps your body know it can relax.

Pretty decent wrap up to the end of an otherwise fucked day.

OPERATION DR. CARTER | @er1nne

let him speak | @/er1nne

The New Regular | @fandom-imagines-stories

The bartender of the hospital staff’s go to place meets a new, and desperately in need of a drink, doctor.

After Hours | @halfpsychic

After a rough shift, Carter takes you out for something to eat.

Kiss It Better | @/halfpsychic

At age 24, John Carter needs to have all four of his wisdom teeth removed. When the day comes, you take care of him.

john carter x reader | @art-by-jas

reader and john are young parents and their son gets hurt at the park but no one at the hospital knows about johns wife and child

How Not to Ask Out Your Neighbor | @/art-by-jas

When you move into a quiet apartment building, the last thing you expect is to fall for your neighbor — especially one who wears scrubs, forgets to turn his t-shirt right-side out, and gets flustered every time your hands touch. But Carter is charming in a quiet, awkward sort of way… and somehow, coffee turns into something more.

Practice | @/art-by-jas

Carter lets you practice IVs on him.

John Carter taking an interest in a nurse on his first day | @/art-by-jas

Stitch Me Up | @butterflybuckethat

You needed stitches and that’s something Carter could do.

accidentally swapping outfits. | @dilflovingmisandrist

Silly little mini blurbs abt Carter and Reader exposing themselves to the rest of the staff after accidentally swapping outfits.

Say It Like You Mean It | @daughter0d3v1l

You think you've always secretly known Carter can't stand you for the same reasons you can't stand him.

MINE AND YOURS. | @love-quinn

john’s not sure it can get much worse than being sent to rehab by his coworkers. finding out he was evicted from his apartment and replaced by a pretty girl is a close runner up.

I love you | @writing-multifandoms

John confesses his love for the reader when reader gets injured

Snowfall | @dickgrcyscns

In which keeping a marriage secret is really difficult. Especially when the both of you are bad at secrets and it’s been months of you working around everyone.

Paging Dr. John Carter, MD: Mildly Jealous | @a-cross-the-universe

First Time Dad Nerves | @yourlipstogodsears

you tell Carter you’re pregnant and he handles it in the only way he knows how… focusing on himself and his career.

Your daughter gets an ear infection and her dad treats her | @forever-ev

a love lost | @booksandteaandtears

you broke Carter's heart when you were teenagers, now you've unexpectedly arrived in his ER.

Savoir | @chrys-lism

john carter hates your relationship with your boyfriend for more than one reason.

Secret Santa | @/art-by-jas

During a chaotic holiday week in the ER, Carter starts acting strangely around you—showing up early, staring, and stumbling over himself—until Carol and Susan point out the obvious: he’s completely in love with you, and you secretly feel the same. Everything becomes clear at the Secret Santa exchange.

Sleepyhead | @/art-by-jas

Your and Carter’s new relationship has not allowed for much intimacy, but one morning, he decides it is time to make the most of his day off.

Calling Dad | @thatsthatbridepresso

LOVESICK AND PRESUMPTUOUS | @/love-quinn

carter knows he gets on your nerves constantly, but he also thinks you might like him. kind of a dangerous leap to make about someone who is not only his coworker but also his roommate.

WHITE CHOCOLATE MACADAMIA. | @/love-quinn

carter’s crush on one of the peds nurses is so bad it’s almost embarrassing. if you call not being able to get through even a single interaction without her laughing at him almost embarrassing.

MEMORY LOSS. | @/love-quinn

this thing between you and john is still fairly new, but he already knows he’s completely obsessed with you. and, well, he’s not exactly good at keeping things like that to himself.

carter with a girlfriend who is just so sleepy | @/love-quinn

body heat | @/halfpsychic

A ‘housewarming party’ gone wrong. Carter sleeps over the night your apartment’s heating breaks.

picking favorites | @sanguineterrain

An unfortunate encounter with a waffle iron leads you to Cook County's ER at midnight. You hope you don't run into your roommate John... he tends to worry, and you're sure he'll prioritize you over more important patients.

Cuddlebug | @somethingeh

carter learns to appreciate his favorite perk of being in a relationship - cuddles.

KISS IT BETTER | @xxepherr

carter is a massive baby, so when an accident occurs in the ER, he immediately does everything he can to still impress the coworker he has a massive crush on.

Emergency | @michelle-is-writing

my name on your lips | @/sanguineterrain

When Howard Davis, a friend of Carter’s father, stops by the hospital and asks if Carter is dating anyone, you’re surprised that Carter says your name… because you’re not dating. A tense dinner with Davis leads to Carter’s confession.

bad valentine | @/sanguineterrain

Your dumbass (soon-to-be-ex) boyfriend causes you to go into anaphylactic shock during a Valentine’s Day dinner. You’re rushed to County General. John Carter to the rescue!

Carter and sick!reader blurb | @/love-quinn

John could remember the first time he had laid eyes on you. He was freshly 18, in his last year at Balmoral Prep. It was another one of those stupid charity balls that his grandmother had forced him to go to. He couldn’t remember the name of the charity, nor did he particularly care. The waiters kept serving him champagne, and he wasn’t about to turn them down on it. He was about to walk up to Gamma, give her some excuse about a science project he had to finish when she walked up to him with you on her arm. 

“John, I’d like you to meet Y/N L/N,” Gamma smiled at the young girl like she had just presented her with some new great thing the foundation could invest in. But to John, the world had stopped turning, his heart stopped beating, and all he could think was;

“You’re beautiful.” You blushed, looking down at your shoes. John mentally face palmed as he realized he had said those words out loud. “I mean. . . nice to meet you.” He held his hand out for you to shake.

“Likewise,” You returned the gesture. Gamma stood there, a knowing look on her face as she watched the two of you talk. 

That moment was six years and a whole medical degree ago. John had asked you out shortly after the charity ball, but you had turned him down, telling him that you wanted to focus on your senior year of school and your undergrad, needing good grades to get into medical school. John had offered to remain friends, telling you that he was on the same path as you. However, that promise to be friends turned out to be as useful as a screendoor on a submarine. You were the first to cave, confessing to John on graduation day that you loved him and have been in love with him. John kissed you right then and there, asking you to be his girlfriend. 

You’re both in the middle of your internships, you deciding to go the pediatrics route and John the surgical route. Though drowning on dry land would be better than doing internships with Doug Ross and Peter Benton as your superiors. They both liked to think the term “intern” meant, “they’ll do everything for me.” You and John had become like ships in the night, passing right by each other, giving fleeting glances and an occasional hand on the back while moving around a trauma room. But for the first time in almost three months, you and John had the same night off, and he was determined to make the most of it. 

“I got three bottles of the Persian champagne you-“ 

“Three bottles?” You cut him off, looking up from the drunk man’s arm you were suturing. “A bit overboard don’t you think?” 

John looked offended as he leaned against the counter across from you. He was hiding away from Benton, and Ross had banished you to the suture room so he could flirt with whatever flavor of the month he’d pick. At least this time it wasn’t a patient’s mother. 

“Overboard?” John asked incredulously. “Baby, this is our first night off since our internships started. This is bare minimum.” 

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes, snipping the last bit of thread and setting your instruments down on the tray. “What if we don’t get out of here at the same time?” 

“Oh we are,” A cute look of determination crossed John’s features. He still had that boyish charm and looks to him as when you were teenagers. His hair, though slightly shorter than med school, was still long and strands of it flopped down in his eyes. The start of his five o’clock shadow started to appear on his face. He’d only grown his beard out once since you’d been together and you’d begged him to again. But Gamma hated it and threatened to write him out of the will if she saw it again. 

“If you say so,” You took your gloves off, standing from the stool. The drunk man was going to sleep off his alcohol and you weren’t looking forward to being the first face he saw. You grabbed his chart and started walking towards the nurses station. Hopefully Doug was back from his afternoon delight and could actually let you take a pedes case. 

“I’m thinking Italian tonight,” John said, “Your favorite spot from Millennium Park.” 

“That’s not even close to where you live!” 

“It’s worth it,” John said, his arms going on either side of you, caging you between his body and the nurses station. “I’m determined to make this the best night off that we’ve had.” Your heart picks up a bit as his words, embarrassment flooding your stomach at the meaning of his words. You could see it in his eyes. 

“Okay,” You whispered. “I’m off at seven. Meet me down here when Benton releases you?” John opens his mouth to answer but is cut off by his pager beeping. Speak of the devil. 

“Yeah, yes, seven works,” John says suddenly flustered that his boss was calling him. “You, me, Persian champagne.” You smile and John kisses you before rushing off to the surgical floor. Dread instantly fills you as he leaves. The embarrassing secret you’ve been hiding from John since you’ve officially started dating six months ago. 

— — — 

The end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough. John had a hard time focusing on anything Dr. Benton was saying to him. He had been down in the ED for the rest of the day, and his brown eyes had been basically replaced by cartoon hearts as he watched you from across the room. You were such a natural with children, it was no wonder you decided on pediatrics. You had never talked about having kids, let alone marriage, but John couldn’t help but wonder what you would be like with your future children. He had a horrible experience with his mother, but he imagined you would be the complete opposite. The type to bake cookies and help with last minute science projects. 

“Carter!” Benton yelled, snapping him out of his day dream. “Are you paying attention?” 

“Ah. . . no,” John blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He could see you biting your lip from across the ED, as you probably just heard him get yelled at. You glanced up quickly, shooting him a wink before focusing back on what Dr. Ross was telling you. 

Benton looked between you and John, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. “Are you done making heart eyes at Ross’s intern?” John looked back up at Benton, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay, good.” He started walking towards the elevator, “As I was saying, I need you to round on patients, make sure they get their meds. I have med charts that need to be caught up on and finished by-” 

“Oh,” John interrupted him. “No, no can do, Dr. Benton.”

Benton shifts his weight, one of his hands resting on his hips while the other pinches the bridge of his nose. It was the exact position he used to brace for whatever stupid statement John was about to make. “And why not, Carter?” 

“Because I’m having sex with my girlfriend tonight for the first time and I can’t be late for that,” John said with a smile on his face. 

Benton’s jaw goes slack at John’s candidness. He knew that his intern wasn’t exactly a closed book, but he wasn’t expecting to get an excerpt about his sex life. “Fine. Whatever. Just. . . Don’t ever tell me that again.” Peter lets out a deep sigh as he walks away, muttering under his breath, “I still have to look her in the eye.” 

— — — 

The ride on the L had been damn near torturous, John’s knee bounced relentlessly against your thigh, his hand squeezing yours tightly. As soon as John had closed the threshold to his apartment, you were pushed up against it, his lips on yours. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling on the locks a bit. You had done this before, making out like teenagers. You felt comfortable with this, but when you felt John’s hand start to skim up your body, his lips moving from yours, down to your jaw, you froze a bit. 

“Wait, wait!” You put your hand on John’s chest, stopping him from placing a kiss on your neck. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He looks up at you with wide eyes. “Hey,” John gently pulls your lip out from in between your teeth with his thumb, “Tell me what’s going on.” He says with a soft demand you’ve heard him use with patients. 

“Christ this is embarrassing," You blush, looking down. John bends his head down a bit, trying to catch your eyes. You swallow, “I’m a virgin.” 

John is taken aback for a moment. “What?” You groan, hiding your face in his neck, your cheeks uncomfortably warm. “No, hey,” John gently lifts your head up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I just. . . You dated Bobby.” 

You shrug, playing with the open buttons of John’s shirt. “I wasn’t ready for sex with him. He kept trying but I never felt comfortable doing it with him.” 

“But you do. . . feel ready for sex. . . with me?” 

You smile at his words. John wasn’t ever one to shy away from awkward situations or conversations, but seeing him so bashful made you smile.

“Yes,” You answer. “I feel comfortable and ready to have sex with you.” 

“Gosh, I wish you told me sooner. I would’ve really wined and dined you.” He ran a hand through his floppy brown hair. You let out an airy giggle. 

John’s lips were once again on yours. You hummed into the kiss as his hands landed on your hips, pulling you into him. Your hand tangled in his soft brown hair, as he walked you backwards to his bed, easing you down on it. You pushed yourself up a bit, so you were laying in the center of it. John’s kisses were soft and delicate as he moved down your jaw, to your neck, nipping softly. 

“John,” You moaned, arching your back. “It feels good.” 

“Does it?” You could feel his cocky smirk against your skin. You playfully tugged his hair and he hissed. “Can I take your shirt off?” 

“Please,” You nod. John made quick work of the buttons of your blouse, tossing the shirt on the ground, his own following suit. His eyes damn near fell out of his head at the sight of your baby pink bra, your breasts sitting up perfectly in the cups. 

“So perfect,” John mumbled, kissing you again. His hands roamed your bare torso, the callouses of his palms leaving goose bumps in their wake. His hips began to gyrate against yours, a moan leaving your lips, as one of his hands groped your beast. You had never been touched like this and it made John stiffen even more in his scrub pants. You trusted him enough to give up something that you had cared enough about to not let anyone else get it. 

John’s free hand went around your back, unclasping your bra with one hand. He leaned back on his heels as he gently pulled the bra off your body. Your hands moved instinctively to cover yourself, but John grabbed your wrists, stopping you. 

“Don’t,” He said softly, “I want to see you. Don’t hide from me.” You slowly put your hands down, puffing your chest out a bit. John gave you confidence you didn’t know you were lacking. It was in the way he looked at you, the way he complimented you, how he talked to you. Always as an equal, never anything less. 

John leaned down, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You gasped, your hand going to the back of his head to hold him there. His brown eyes looked up at you, seeing the blissed out look on your face, lips slightly parted, eyes hooded with lust. John’s other hand massaged your other breast, his thumb and pointer finger tweaking your nipple. He then switched, using his mouth on your other breast. 

“John, please,” You moaned, thrusting your hips up. You had felt this feeling before when you’d make out on the couch or in stolen moments in the supply room. The feeling of wetness and a gentle ache between your thighs. You tried to clench your legs together to try to relieve some of it, but it was useless. You needed more. 

You needed John. 

“I got you,” John assured you, “I’ll give it to you, but I gotta make sure you’re ready first.” You nodded and John kissed down your body. The lower he got, the more you ached for him. His fingers undid the button of your pants, tugging gently. “Can I?” 

“Yes, yes please.” 

John’s fingers hooked his fingers into your waistband, sliding your pants and underwear down your legs, and onto the floor. Your core was glistening and Jake let out a groan. It was hard for you to not try and cover yourself, especially with the way his brown eyes were looking at you. He ran a singular finger through your soaked fold, your head tilting back in pleasure and a pornographic moan falling from your lips. John’s finger circled your clit a couple times in lazy circles, watching as your body contracted and shook from the pleasure. 

“Can I touch you here?” John tapped his finger at your opening and you nodded. Slowly, John pushed his finger into your cunt, feeling you stretch around it. It felt a bit forging to you, never having someone else’s fingers touching you. You knew John was skilled with his hands, his finger moving in and out of you, curling to hit a spot only you could ever find. 

The pleasure was nothing like you’d ever felt before. It was beautiful and you were craving more. It felt like butterflies in your stomach, like when you’d drop from a rollercoaster. When John felt you were ready, he pulled back from your body. He reached into his bedside table, grabbing a small bottle and a gold foil packet. 

“What is that?” You asked, shivering a bit, your body cold without John’s body pressing on yours. 

“Lube and condoms,” John said, placing them on the table. “It’ll help both of us. I don’t want this to hurt. I got you ready, but it still might hurt just a bit.” 

You nodded, watching as John stripped his green scrub pants and white Calvin Klein boxers off his perfect thighs. You couldn’t help but look away as his cock sprang free, already hard and leaking. You’d never seen him this bare before, a blush arose on his cheek. 

“What?” John smirked, climbing back on the bed. “Never seen a naked body before. . . doctor?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Of course I have, doctor.” You bit your lip, “You’re just beautiful.” 

John kissed you. “I should be telling you that.” 

“You do, plenty.” 

John smiled, grabbing the condom from the table. He slid it on with practiced ease and you tried to ignore the jealous pang in your heart at how many times John could’ve been in this position. He gently spread your legs so he could slot between your legs. Grabbing the bottle of club, John put some on his fingers before spreading it over your already wet pussy. 

“Fuck,” You gasped. “That’s cold.” 

“Sorry, my love,” John apologized, pushing some of the lube into your center. “I’ll warm you up.”  John grabbed the base of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. He leaned down on his elbow, his face hovering a mere inches from yours. You reached up, pushing a lock of brown hair from his eyes. John looked up at you, giving you that boyish smile you love so much. 

“Hi,” He whispered. 

“Hi,” You kiss the corner of his mouth. 

John pushed the tip of his cock into you, your hand gripping his biceps. “If at any time this hurts or becomes too much, you tell me and I’ll stop. If you don’t want to do this anymore, you tell me to stop.” 

“I want this, John,” Your hands moved from his biceps to skim up his muscular back. John’s eyebrows furrowed as he drug his cock through your folds before lining up with your entrance. He hissed as he pushed his tip in, your legs falling open even more to adjust to his frame. Your body tensed, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. John thrusted slowly, letting himself slip in little by little, and then pulling back out. 

“No,” You whined, stopping his hips with your hands. “Don’t pull back.” John nodded, words failing him as his kind became clouded with your scent. He continued to push his hips towards yours, when you squeezed his bicep. 

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” His voice had an edge of panic in it. He could see tears prickling at the corner of your eyes, your body tensing, your legs shaking around his hips. “Baby, tell me how it feels. It hurts, doesn’t it? I can stop-“ 

“No,” You whimpered. “It doesn’t hurt. It feels weird, like a stretch. But keep going. . . just wait a moment please.” 

“Okay,” John continued, pushing into your body until his hips were flushed with yours. Gasps and moans fell from both of you as John caressed your cheeks. He didn’t even care about sex at this point, he was content with staying right here, inside of you the whole night. You were keeping him warm, squeezing him just right. His jaw clenched as he shut his eyes tight. John felt that all too familiar feeling at the base of his spine. 

He couldn’t cum this quickly. Not when he hasn’t gotten you off first. What kind of a first time would that be? 

But John felt your chest heave with heavy breaths, your hips starting to wiggle underneath him, your nails clawing at him. 

“Move,” You said barely above a whisper. “Please.” 

“Ye-yeah,” John stuttered, “I’m going slow.” 

“O-okay,” You nod and press your lips to his collarbone as he slowly drug his hips back, thrusting in and out of you. Your hands moved up his back, tangling in his hair. Grunts and moans left your mouths, mixing together in the air. John grabbed your thigh, hooking it over his hip to reach a new angle. His other hand grabbed your wrist, holding it above your head, and intertwining your fingers. Everything felt so intense, from the way your body felt below his, to the way John seemed to hit all the right spots. The impending orgasms arose in your bodies, and John smashed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans. 

John felt the rubber band in his stomach snap, white hot pleasure rolling down his spinal cord. Moans fell from his lips, his hips losing their rhythm as he spilled himself into the condom. You could feel the warmth fill your body as John tried to keep himself up on shaky arms to not collapse on top of you. 

“Damn,” John moaned out, his hips stilling. “I’m sorry,” He laughed awkwardly, “I usually don’t-” You cut him off with a kiss, holding his face in your hands. 

“It was perfect,” You said, and John leaned his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want to take a bath?” You nodded. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” John easily moved his hips back, and you whined at the feeling. “Does it hurt?” 

“A little,” You answered, “It’s okay.” John pulled the blankets back enough for him to slip out of bed. He could see the tiniest bit of blood on your thighs. 

“Lay right there, I’ll be back,” John said, walking to his ensuite bathroom. He threw away the condom and cleaned himself up. He slipped his boxers back on, and grabbed a wash cloth to clean you up. You were tapping your fingers on your tummy when John came back in. You smiled up at him as he kneeled between your legs. You hissed as the cold wash cloth made contact with your skin. 

“Sensitive?” John asked. 

“Yes,” You nodded your head. A faint blush crept on your cheeks as you looked down at him, cleaning you with almost surgical precision, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. “Did I bleed?” 

“A bit,” John kissed your cheek, “It’s normal. Nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” He folded up the cloth, standing up from the bed. John laid back down on the bed, holding your arm out as a sign to come cuddle into his side. Your head rested on his chest, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, as your bare breasts pressed into him. The room was quiet, the only sounds were your steady breathing and the ticking of John’s alarm clock. 

“Marry me.” John said. You sat up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes. There was nothing but pure adoration in his brown ones. “I mean. . . not right at this moment,” You chuckled nervously, “But eventually.” 

You smiled, kissing his lips. “Can we finish intern year first?” 

John mulls it over for a moment, “Sure.” You kissed him once more before settling down back against his chest. John sighed, squeezing your shoulders tightly, pulling you in closer. You closed your eyes, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat as it lulled you into a restful sleep.

it had been another hellish day for the ED. another MCI, not pittfest big, but big enough to have jack pull a double on his day off and for the ptmc to get closed off for walk-ins for a few hours. as if the happenings didn’t make the day stressful enough, robby pulled rank on her in front of the interns.

it was a stupid case, a simple appendicitis one, something they saw on the daily, she wanted to follow with an at-home treatment first, but robby insisted on having it removed. things escalated, voices were raised, she reminded robby she was leading the case, he reminded her he was the chief attending. she nodded and left the room, passing the responsibilities to him.

news travels fast, and of course jack got the hang of it.

robby left the shift with his ass handed to him, and she left with a squeeze on her shoulder and a “he won’t do this again.” from the night attending.

as he opens the en-suite door, robby is greeted with the sight of her sitting on the edge of her side of the bed, clad in a loose t-shirt and some comfortable underwear, her usual sleep attire. she’s murmuring along to a song he doesn’t really know the name, but recognises the voice, that sufjan stevens guy he once took her to a concert.

he decides to watch her, eyes following along as her hands travel up and down her legs, lathering her already soft skin with moisturiser.

robby makes his way to the bed, positioning himself behind her, arms meeting each other around her waist, bringing her closer to him. he noses her neck, the tip going back and forth on that sensitive spot behind her ear, over and over again before peppering kisses there. she sighs, but it’s not a one that feels like the weight was lifted off her shoulders, it’s a very annoyed one. robby inhales the naked scent of her skin and kisses the crown of her head before finally speaking.

“i’m sorry, honey.” robby says, still hugging her and just loud enough for her and only her to hear.

“it’s ok.” voice small, minute, as if trying to end the conversation there.

robby is the one who sighs now, gently turns her around, saying her name in a pleading voice, begging her to look at him. she does.

“it’s not ok. i was a fucking idiot and went over your orders when you were the one in charge. that’s unacceptable and i’m terribly sorry for that. the fact that i– we had a bad day is not an excuse for me to act the way i did. i’ll public apologise to you and the interns on your next shift.”

“robby–“ he interrupts her, knowing she was going to say it wasn’t necessary.

“i want to.”

“okay.” she nods and kisses him. relief washing away the worries of both of their bodies.

“wanna watch a movie, baby?” robby asks as he climbs under the covers on the side of his bed.

“not really, can’t pay attention to shit right now. i’ll probably just rot on my phone for a bit before falling asleep.”

robby acknowledges her wishes and kisses her before grabbing on the nightstand the book he started reading a few days ago.

she unlocks her phone for the first time in hours, the messaging app’s notifications up in the hundreds. against her wishes, she decides to reply to the most urgent ones, knowing the number would only grow with her silence.

there are a couple from jack, once again asking if she is ok, if she got home and that she can stay at his with samira if she wants to some distance from robby for a bit.

then, she opens the group chat she has with samira, trinity and javadi. more than five hundred texts awaits for her, ranging from asking if she is ok, to if she wants to go out and get drunk and plotting robby’s murder. they were pretty sure they could get away with it. in honesty? they made her giggle and the warmth of knowing she had people that ride for her grew on her heart.

there’s a private one from samira making the same offer as jack.

she scrolls a bit, family and friends saying they saw the news of the incident and wanted to make sure she is ok.

there’s one notification that catches her eyes, one she hasn’t seen in months. john carter.

john’s name is highlighted, the little blue dot almost mocking her. she repositions on the bed, as if encouraging herself to open the messages.

john carter: Hey, you. john carter: How have you been doing? I’m in Pittsburgh this week. Just arrived, actually. Would love to meet you one of these days, I’m here till Monday. Let's grab a cup of coffee or something. john carter: Miss you, pretty.

robby sees her moving, straightening her back a little too hard and biting her nail, classic signs that she her brain was going into overdrive. robby fleets his eyes from the page of his book to the screen of her phone, squinting a bit to read what’s written. he makes out john’s name, it’s a familiar one, he remembers her mentioning it once or twice while talking about her time in chicago. the other thing he is able to read is the entirety of the last message “miss you, pretty.”

there’s a weird feeling on the pit of robby’s stomach, one he thinks he has never felt before and one that he can’t allow himself to feel. “is everything ok, honey?” he asks, watching her face.

“yeah.” she nods and looks at him. “just a friend from chicago that is in town and wants to meet.”

“are you going? you should go.” that’s what robby says, but the little monster inside him wishes he could tell her not to. he doesn’t know where this is coming from, robby doesn’t own her, their relationship is not even an official one, but still, jealousy hits him like a freight train.

“mhm. i’ll see if he’s free tomorrow.”

← hey, you ← i’m doing alright, and u? ← i actually have a day off tomorrow, there’s this really cool coffee shop not that far from where i live. we could meet there if u’re free ← miss you too, bug john carter: I’ll be seeing a patient in the morning but I have the whole afternoon free if that’s ok with you. ← it’s perfect! 2pm? john carter: It’s a date, pretty. See you there. ← see ya, bug.

she locks her phone, setting it on the nightstand. robby notices her humour improved a bit and he hates that he wasn’t the one behind it. she scoots closer to him, resting her head on his chest and kisses his jaw. robby sighs, content. that annoying feeling easing for a bit.

robby’s alarm rang at 05:00am, thirty minutes earlier than usual. he kissed her head, telling her to go back to sleep. almost an hour later, robby reappears, hair still a bit damp, dressed in dark cargo pants and a black undershirt. his hands held a breakfast tray filled with eggs, bacon, hash browns and some chocolate cake he had bought the day before.

robby set the tray on the nightstand, sat by her side, hands gently caressing her face, tucking some of her wild, sleepy hair behind her ear. “sit up, honey. brought you breakfast.”

they ate mostly in silence, robby knew she needed some time to properly wake up. the void filled here and there with random stories about yesterday’s shift.

they were almost finished when robby finally asked “you’re meeting your friend today, right?”

“yeah.” she yawned and continued. “it’s john, we worked together in chicago. i’ve told you about him.”

“yes, you have.” robby says, voice a bit restrained. it sounded weird in her ears. “i have to go, baby. rest and call me if you need anything.”

she nodded and kissed him goodbye.

the watch on her wrist marks 01:55pm when she arrives at the café. it is a small one that sits between her apartment and the hospital. cozy and warm, the perfect place to sit down and talk to someone you haven’t seen in years.

the smell of coffee greets her as soon as she opens the door, and a distant “hey” hits her ears.

john carter sits on the farthest table by the window, the one that, usually, was his favourite. when she, once on a date, asked him why, carter told her it’s because he could people watch, but still not be seen.

he got up, making his way to meet her. “hey, pretty.” his voice holds a happy lull and carter hugs her so tightly that the air leaves her. she is pretty sure her feet lifted off the ground some.

“hey, bug.” she says, voice touched by emotion.

“god, i’ve missed you so much.” john tells her, his hands cradling her cheeks.

“i’ve missed you too.”

carter tells her to sit down, asking if her order still is the same as he makes the way to the counter to get their drinks. she can’t believe he remembers it after all those years.

john looks the same. yeah, he has aged some over the last four years, the lines on his face are deeper, but he kept his hair is at that length she that she loved, the one she always begged him to keep. the beard is still full, graced with a couple of greys in it. he still looks like the same guy she left in chicago in 2021.

“so…” carter says as he sits down with their orders in hand.

“so…” she smiled at him.

the afternoon passed by like a blur. john still has that same sweet cadence to his voice, still makes her laugh with his clumsy ways, still looks at her with those big brown eyes that always made her feel like she’s the only person in the room.

it turns out that john wasn’t in pittsburgh just to consult in a patient’s case, mercy had shown interest in his work and invited him for an interview. when asked if he was really moving, he said “yeah, probably next month. i have nothing left in chicago besides the foundation that basically runs it self, so…” he shrugs his shoulders. “and it’s an attending position. it’s going to be nice to get back to full time.”

their conversation flows easily, the same banter they had from years ago. john tells her how difficult things became with county general’s new administration, updates her on his health, the kidney has been working just fine since the last scare he had. he tells her that kem visited a few months ago, she got married to some parisian guy and they were travelling around the us. he tells her that she’s doing fine and that kem wanted to see him to thank him for everything. “closure, i think.”

she tells him about how her life has been lately, work, friends, the trip she’s taking to south america in a couple of months.

“still seeing that robby guy?” john asks at the same time her phone vibrates with a text from mike asking if she still is at the café and if she wants to go out for dinner.

“still seeing him.” she shows him the message. “looks like you two are going to meet.”

carter tilts his head and gives her one of his toothy smiles “i’m sensing there was a “but” after your first sentence.”

she looks down, shaking her head. the crumpled, dirty napkin suddenly became very interesting. “there’s no but. he’s a great guy, it’s just…”

“complicated?”

she snorts. “yeah. well, that’s one way to put it.” she drinks more of the third cappuccino he had ordered for her. “that’s a conversation for another time.”

“ok.” carter agrees, looks at her with the “know it all” look he always gave when she wanted to change subject. “you doing anything this saturday?”

“um, just my shift. why?”

“why don’t we go out for drinks? invite robby too.”

“yeah? there’s a cool pub down the street. i think you would like it.”

“great. it’s a date.” carter says and downs the last of his own coffee.

their conversation goes on for a bit, talking about random things and mutual friends. fifteen minutes pass by when robby’s unmistakable black suv stops by the curb in front of the coffee shop.

he sees them by the window, an unreadable expression takes over his face when he spots carter, it eases a bit when he sees her smiling and waving at him.

john gives her a quizzical look, finger pointing between him and the direction where robby is coming from. “we–“

“don’t.” she stops him with a harsh wave. john giggles with how she reacts. “we will talk about this.”

when robby finally arrives at their table, john gets up to greet him as she introduces them.

robby is clearly affected by john, but doesn’t want to admit it. he kisses her with far more intent than what he usually puts on a kiss when they are in public.

it’s a comical sight, the two men looking at each other like they saw a ghost. the obvious resemblance the two doctors share is too loud when they are side by side.

it felt like whiplash, but she is too stubborn to say so.

“well, i’m going to let you go.” john tells her, then turns to robby. “i know how tired and hungry you probably are. we are going for drinks saturday after her shift, you should come with us.”

“of course.” robby says, voice hoarse with restraint.

john hugs her goodbye. a hug just as tight as the one he gave her earlier in the afternoon. it made her squeal. “bye, pretty. see you saturday.”

“bye, bug.”

john once again turns to robby. “it was nice finally meeting you, man. take care of her, she deserves the best.”

carter leaves with a wave, his black trenchcoat swishing around in the cold january air.

“let’s go, baby?” she asks as she kisses robby’s cheek.

all he does is nod and grab her hand, guiding her to the car.

robby spent the whole day ignoring her. when she tries to run back on what could have happened, she realises it has something to do with the pitiful look jack had in his eyes whenever he looked at her during this morning’s shift change. samira had been acting weird all day too, trying to pry on, asking multiple times a day if everything was ok.

robby stayed past his clock out time on the previous shift, something about having to do some late admin work that he had been stalling on. a couple of hours later, he texted her telling he was going straight to his, so she didn’t have to stay up waiting for him.

none of this was unusual of robby, or of them. more often than not, one of the two would need some time alone and they would just signal the other when needed. besides, as big as her feelings were for robby, they weren’t that serious anyway. there is no explicit commitment from both parts, just a mutual, silent understanding and respect.

what is actually weird is the way robby has been acting all day, how he barely looks her in the eyes, and when he does acknowledge her, is with small and sometimes one-worded answers.

something definitely happened last night.

she approaches him forty minutes before the end of the shift. robby is finally by the central hub, collecting charts and information to start the shift change with jack. when she asks if everything is ok, robby answers with the familiar rushed, dismissive tone he uses whenever he wants to deflect from the subject. it was when she asked if he was coming home with her, and robby looked at jack with a “what do i do” expression on his face, that an alarm went off in her head.

the silence stretched on for far too long, jack’s eyes sending a harsh look at his best friend’s cowardness. robby sighs, tells her in a strained tone voice that yes, he’ll be going to hers today. she murmurs an “ok” and leaves, not before sending a pleading look at jack.

the drive back home is quiet, as is the elevator ride. robby barely looks at her and she hesitates on asking what’s going on, knowing it would be better to wait until they are at the warmth of her apartment.

she opens the door and sets her jacket and backpack on the coat closet, robby doing the same after her. as she makes her way to the kitchen, she hears robby sighing loudly as he sits down on her couch.

ten minutes have passed when she finally comes back with two warm mugs of tea, one in each hand, one for each of them. she finds robby in the same position she left him in, elbows on his knees, bent head held by his hands. his hair is mussed, messy even, from running anxious hands through it.

she sets the mugs down on the coffee table before sitting beside him on the couch, giving him an awkward side hug. one hand squeezing the soft of his waist and the other his arm, placing one soft but long kiss on his shoulder.

“talk to me, please.” she says, voice as calm as she could muster.

from behind his hands, with a muffled voice, robby says. “who is john?”

“what?”

“who is john carter?” robby asks, turning his face to finally look at her. “who is john truman carter iii? who is he really to you?”

she snorts-laugh, looking at him like this is the most absurd thing ever, which it is. “what is it with the full name, did you run a background check on him?”

robby only raises one eyebrow, silently telling her to spill it.

“john is a friend, we worked together in chicago. i’ve told you that.”

robby sits straighter, does a full body turn to have a better look at her. “so just a friend, huh? one that posts pictures of you looking way too cozy with him, saying how much he loved you and hoped to spend the rest of his days with you?” his voice raised by a tone in the end, a clear sign that robby was starting to lose his composure.

she knows what post robby is talking about, it is one carter made for their two year anniversary. it is filled with pictures of her. pictures of her sleeping, of her cooking with only one of his big jerseys on, them on vacations together, him kissing her, her doing silly things and him looking at her like she hung the moon. the caption was john pouring his heart out, saying how he didn’t expect meeting someone like her after coming back home, that she healed parts of him that he had no idea needed healing, how he loved her and that he hoped he was worthy enough to spend the rest of his days with her.

yeah, nothing about it screamed “just friends”.

robby must have scrolled back a lot to have found that post.

she lets out a humourless laugh, nodding her head before speaking. “john and i dated for almost four years.”

“and?”

“and what? we broke up like, a year before i even came to pittsburgh and we remained friends.”

“what is he doing here?”

“he came to consult on a case and had an interview at mercy. they offered him an attending position.”

robby looks at her with an indescribable look in his eyes. “you do realise we look alike, right?”

“is this what this is about?” she laughs. “fine, i have a type. sue me.”

robby gets up and starts pacing around. “why have you never told me about him?”

she is the one to get up now and stop in front of him, adopting the same condescending posture he did when he got pissed. “we’ve been dating for almost a year and i only found out about jake and janey during fucking pittfest, because you lost your shit after you couldn’t save the kid’s girlfriend. the same thing with heather. dana, fucking dana, was the one to tell me you and collins dated, because you got weird when heather left.” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her feelings. “i adore you– fuck, i love you, robby. i know i’ve never told you this and i hate that i have to say it in a situation like this, but i fucking love you. but i can only meet you where you meet me. i can’t pour myself when you’re the one not sharing anything.”

“at first i thought i was going to be another notch on your long list of seven week flings, which i was fine with, really. then, the seven weeks passed and now we’re here, at eleven months, but every time the relationship is the topic of the conversation, you find a way to evade it. i still don’t know how to introduce you. are you my boyfriend? are we just fucking? are you keeping me around because i care about you and it’s comfortable? it’s fucking draining sometimes.” she finally tells him, the tears at bay.

“so now that he’s probably coming here, what is it going to be?”

she laughs so hard it takes robby back. “are you fucking serious? i’m trying to have a conversation with you and all you do is circle back to john. what is your fucking point here, michael? do you–“

“oh, michael?” robby interrupts. she never calls him by his first name.

“yeah, michael.” she spits. “you want to insinuate shit where you know there is none because you are being insecure and you want a way out. and fine, i get it. maybe i should have told you about the both of us before. but then again, you barely told me anything about your past and i know better than to be the one doing all the emotional labour in the relationship.”

“you know what, it’s best if we end this. i’m leaving.” robby says as he makes his way to the the door, grabbing his coat and backpack.

“yeah, sure. that’s what you do, right? things get hard and you end it because it’s better to run away than to face your demons. fucking coward.”

robby gives her one last look, mixed emotions taking over his face. he nods and the last thing she hears is the sound of her front door closing.

part 02

You had met Dr. Robinavitch when you started in the ED as an attending. While your love blossomed slowly, it bloomed into so much more than you were expecting. It had been a bit of a whirlwind, from dating secretly to Dana and Jack finding out only a month after, to getting engaged just a year later.

You had done what you could to keep it from the hospital administration, but the time came where you got married and paperwork needed to be filed. You kept your maiden name to ensure there was no confusion, plus it added to your privacy. Everyone you worked with knew you were married, just not to each other, but it was more of an open secret to some of the nurses and other attendings.

Gloria nearly moved you to a different department. She tried separating you by shifts, maybe hoping you would leave and find work in a different hospital. Michael was technically your boss, after all. In her reports, however, she found that when you two were on shift together, it was seamless. Like you two operated on a frequency that no one else was even aware of.

Despite the bumps in the road, and Michael’s aversion for talking about his feelings, you made it work. Some shifts could be frustrating, and that sometimes got carried home, but you respected each other immensely. Michael was not keen on letting such a good thing in his life go that easily, and eventually opened up about Adamson and the toll the pandemic had taken on him.

After that hurdle, everything else was easy. Eventually, you decided to grow your family, and you got pregnant not even five months later.

—

On the fourth year anniversary of Adamson’s death, you were surprised to find Michael preparing for a shift.

“Didn’t you take off?” You asked, watching him dress into his scrubs.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at you. “Peterson had a family thing, and I know they’re short staffed.”

You frowned, “You could’ve asked me.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He said, turning to look at you and his heart swelled at the sight. “I don’t want you to cancel your appointment.”

You sat on that for a moment. For as busy as you both were, Michael had made time for every appointment you had after finding out you were pregnant.

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t miss the next one.”

That satisfied you. For all Michael was, someone to break his promise was not one of them.

“I was hoping to find out the gender today,” you said with a tiny smile. “But a little anticipation never hurt anyone.”

He looked grateful at your words, moving to kiss you. He tasted like mint, holding your head so gently in his hands. Your hands moved to his chest, wanting to hold him against you, but you released him.

“Jake know yet?”

He smiled, “Yeah. He asked to take his girlfriend instead.”

You raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Oh?”

You and Jake had gotten close slowly, him being like a step-son to Michael, but now you loved the kid.

“If you need anything, just call, alright?”

He nodded, grabbing his coffee, giving you one last lingering kiss before heading out the door.

—

Your day was mildly uneventful, taking your time with a handful of chores before sitting out on the balcony to have lunch. Your OB appointment had gone well, and you got a recording of the heartbeat, knowing Michael might need to hear it after his shift.

As time moved, you missed that Michael had not been able to be there with you. You missed his touch and his presence beside you. Dinner came with a takeout box of your latest craving, before your phone rang.

Jack Abbot’s name flashed on your screen. You still worked a few shifts with him from time-to-time, but Michael had you mostly scheduled for days, with him.

“Hey,” you said when you answered.

“Did you hear?”

“That’s so specific, Jack,” you said, opening the fridge to scan your snack options.

“There was a shooting at Pittfest, unknown number of casualties. Closest trauma center is PTMC.”

Your heart stuttered to a stop, “What?”

“Heard it on the scanner. You’ll likely get an alert that it’s all hands on deck, but I wanted to give you a heads up before traffic got too bad.”

Despite not being super close with Jack, you were still friends and you knew he had your back. While you hated being treated with careful hands at work now that you were pregnant, part of you still appreciated the gesture of it. It was like something unspoken had happened between Michael and Jack months ago, both of them moving to take the more combative patients whenever you were around.

“Shit, Jack.” You breathed out, rushing into your bedroom to grab your scrubs. “Fuck, Jake is at Pittfest. Let me try to reach him.” You fumbled through your drawers, taking a deep breath through your nose. “I’ll be in. See you soon.”

“Drive safe!” He said before the call disconnected.

After changing, you moved to grab a few odd snacks and water bottles, stuffing them into your lunch bag, along with your cell phone charger. Who knew how long this was going to take, or if Michael had had the chance at any point today to eat. He hadn’t texted or called, but that was not uncommon. The Pitt never made it easy, which was why you were grateful that you worked most of your shifts with your husband.

You tried reaching Jake, leaving a voicemail and a text message before reaching out to his mother. You briefly explained the situation and asked for an update as soon as she heard anything, before you promised the same.

When you got into your car, you took a deep breath to steady your heart before beginning your way to PTMC.

Michael called you, your phone ringing through the car’s Bluetooth.

“Hey, don’t have much time, but I need you.” He told you, his voice quiet but full of so much emotion.

“I’m already on my way. Abbot called ten minutes ago. Tried calling out to Jake, too, he didn’t answer. Told his mom to reach out to either of us if she heard anything.” You said in a rush, coming to a stop at a light. Almost there.

He let out a breath that almost sounded like relief.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The mass alert came through your phone as soon as he hung up. Thank fuck for Jack.

You made it into the parking garage, waving at the security guard now posted at the entrance. You sat in your car for just a minute to get your bearings, knowing tonight was going to be a shitshow.

As you entered the Emergency Department, you saw patients leaving, escorted by nurses and admin staff — and you moved quickly into the back. It was a circus, but you spotted Michael and Jack and beelined for them.

Michael’s brown eyes caught you as you approached and his face relaxed, though his shoulders were still tense. Dana was beside them, and her usual quip of “Oh I get Dr. R squared today?” did not fall from her lips, but she was sporting a black eye. You looked at her in alarm, but she waved it off.

“Just another happy customer.” She said, but you only frowned at her.

Michael spoke next, introducing you, and then quickly running down the new faces to you: Dr. Mel King, an R2, Dennis Whittaker, an M4, Victoria Javadi, an M3, and Dr. Trinity Santos, an intern. You tried to remember their names, but knew you would not likely remember them in the chaos.

You went to quickly put your stuff down, and when you turned around, Michael was standing there. To everyone else, he appeared neutral, controlled, normal. To you? He was wearing his shift all over his face and you could see plainly that it had not been a good one.

“This is going to be stressful, I should’ve let you stay home—”

While you appreciated his concern, you would have come anyway. “I promise, if I get too stressed out, I’ll let myself take a few minutes. But you have me. What can I do to help?”

“I need you in pink zone.” He told you, moving right back to business. “You’ll be with McKay and Javadi, and incoming night shift. But I need you at the head of it.”

“You got it.” You said, honored he was trusting you to run point on your zone.

—

While the victims did not stop coming, you found yourself moving mostly on instinct. Assessing, treating, moving along — trying to do your best to teach when you came across any of the new faces. You flitted into red zone when there was a particularly bad patient and then moved to triage so Dr. Shen could take a quick bathroom break.

When you assisted Michael, you moved together like a well oiled machine — and despite the tragedy, it came to you both naturally. You only barely registered the tension between Michael and Dr. Frank Langdon — a senior resident, and someone Michael had taken under his wing. You would have to remember to ask about it.

Time moved by in a blur, but you were painfully aware of every minute, every patient that came under your care. All the blood, all the death, all the tragedy.

It only got worse when Jake arrived, thought were thankful he was alive. He was asking about his girlfriend when you approached.

“Jake?” You got his attention as you began to take in his appearance. Jesus Christ, he was covered in blood.

“It’s mostly her blood,” he told you blankly, eyes moving around the room at the carnage. “It’s mostly her blood.”

You called for a wheelchair, your gaze searching for Michael. He was working on a patient, giving CPR from the look of it, the patient blocked from your view by the charge desk.

“Take a seat, Jake.” You told him softly, gently touching his shoulder. “Let me take a look at you, yeah?”

He sat down, his head swiveling around to locate his girlfriend. “I think—I think I got hit in the leg.”

You nodded, moving him into the yellow zone so you could bandage him up. You were not related and there were no official familial ties, so there were no problems of ethics — at least that was what you told yourself.

He moved to stand, and you pushed his shoulder back down.

“Let me assess you and then I promise I’ll go check on your girlfriend, okay?”

Jake nodded numbly and moved onto the gurney so you could look at his leg. His injury was not as bad as you had feared, and while you knew he would need stitches, you made do with some bandages for the time being.

“What’s her name?” You asked, trying to bring his attention back to you.

“Leah,” he told you, voice heavy with emotion. “I need to see her.”

While you did not understand the full panic he was experiencing, you knew Leah was in good hands.

“She’s with Robby, Jake. Leah is getting the best care.”

He was still not looking at you, and you got him set up with an IV antibiotic drip.

“Jake? Jake, can you call your mom for me? Cell service might not be great right now, but can you try? She’s worried about you.”

He took that information in slowly, before nodding.

The call did not go through, but you made him promise to keep trying while you assured him you were going to check on his girlfriend.

By the time you reached Michael, he was calling time of death and your heart constricted. You wanted to scream. By the look in his eyes, you can see he wanted to as well. You could feel Jack’s gaze on you and when you turned, he simply shook his head at you. You easily translated that to ‘your husband is not doing good’.

“I couldn’t save her.” Michael whispered, and only you caught it.

You gave his hand a subtle squeeze.

Jack was there then, reading the situation perfectly, “No one could have saved her. Maybe if this was a normal day, but it tore right through her heart. There was not much we could do.”

Fuck, you thought, she’s so young. You hoped she did not suffer.

Michael moved to find Jake and you followed him, but he stopped you.

“Can you take over for me in red so I can let Jake know?”

Every part of you screamed to go with him, but you nodded, turning to step back into pace with the work. You tried to push away your emotions, packaging them away to deal with later, but compartmentalizing was tough. You felt guilty for never meeting this girl, someone Jake had so obviously cared a lot about.

You attempted to get lost in the work, but you caught sight of Michael wheeling Jake out of Peds — the current place they have been putting the deceased — and the look on your husband’s face made your heart plummet. He had moved back into the room, leaving Jake just outside and you quickly gestured to a passing nurse to get him back to yellow.

The security guard did not make any comment when you walked into Peds, and you were devastated at what you found. Aside from the deceased, the number of them slowly ticking upwards, it was the sight of Michael on the floor in tears that truly struck you.

After ripping the curtain closed behind you, to block the view into the hall, and give you both just a small amount of privacy, you moved back toward Michael. It had been a long time since you had seen him like this. He had broken down when he told you about Adamson and the weight of his choice, and once he had even broken down after a particularly bad argument, but nothing like this.

“Baby, baby, hey,” you crouched down beside him, but you did not move to touch him.

His breath caught in his throat, but his sobs continued, hyperventilating with his arms pulled across his bent knees.

“Michael,” you tried, a name you had never called him when within the walls of the hospital.

His watery gaze met yours for just a moment, before his eyes were back in his lap, face scrunched. His ears were red, as well as his face, with red rimmed eyes that broke something in you.

“Michael.” You stressed again, moving so your hands hovered just above his arms. “Can you look at me?”

“I—I—I couldn’t—fuck—I didn’t save her.” His breaths came in short bursts, in in in out, in in out, tears coming down his face, his cheeks red.

You found yourself at a loss on how to help him — you knew none of his thoughts were rational at the moment, and anguish rushed through your veins, feeling so helpless. So useless.

An odd idea struck you, and you pulled out your phone before you could doubt yourself. You flipped through a few of your apps before settling on the one you had used to record your baby’s heartbeat.

“Can you take a deep breath with me?” You asked gently. You took a deep breath in through your nose and then out through your mouth.

You didn’t give him time to respond before you were pressing play on the recording. The sound of it filled the room with something other than Michael’s panic, and he quieted just enough to listen to it.

“That’s our baby.” You told him, though the sound of it was obvious enough, racing steadily like hoof beats.

His eyes found yours, and while he was still breathing quickly, he seemed to have returned to the reality around you, rather than stuck in his head. Relief took a bit of the weight from your shoulders.

“Can you breathe with me?” You asked again, finally touching his arm.

His hand found yours immediately and squeezed, but he nodded. You took a few more deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth, watching as he mirrored you.

Aside from the quick beats of your baby’s heart, the deep breaths you both took filled the room. You desperately tried to ignore the dead around you, trying to solely focus on the man in front of you. When the recording came to a stop, Michael’s hand twitched toward your phone.

“Can you play it again?”

You nodded, pressing play and handing him your phone. The fast heartbeat filled the space again, and he cradled your phone like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was.

“Very active today.” You told him. “Wouldn’t sit still.”

A ghost of a smile passed over his lips, but it was gone in a moment.

“I have a video file that they sent me from today, but I didn’t want to look at it without you. Figured if either of us looked long enough, we’d be able to tell the gender ourselves.”

“Can we?” He asked, looking at you with tears still in his eyes.

You smiled, moving to sit next to him. You did not know how long the moment was going to last — sooner or later, someone was going to come looking for either of you. You tried to ignore it, trying to center yourself in this moment with Michael, forgetting about the outside world for just a moment.

Clicking on the video you had saved, you both sat quietly watching your baby move. Michael grabbed your hand in his and held it close to his chest. This was only going to be a bandaid, but any distraction was a welcomed one in that moment.

“They’re healthy. Measured 6.6 inches, 11 ounces.” You rattled off, moving your other hand to his head and running your nails along his scalp and through his hair. Any time in the past that he had had a panic attack in your company, you found that at the tail end of it, he enjoyed the feeling of your hands on him. Like it was grounding.

Michael’s hyperventilating had fully stopped, though a handful of tears still slipped through. His face was still scrunched in pain, but he watched the video attentively.

“You did all you could, my love,” you whispered. “No one could have saved her. Not even if it was all of us and just her. I’m so sorry.”

“Jake—”

You hushed him, “Jake is still in shock. He’s grieving. Whatever he said to you, he didn't mean it.”

“No, no, he does. I didn’t save her. I told him I would. I told him.”

You brought your lips to his temple, closing your eyes and willing no tears to come. You couldn’t, not now.

Michael tapped on the video again, watching as your baby moved, kicking against your womb like it was their job.

“It’s not your fault.” You told him, moving across the floor until you met his gaze. “I would never lie to you, you know that. I promise. If anyone could have saved her, it would have been you.”

His face scrunched again like he was going to cry.

You held him in your arms, squeezing him tight to your chest, hoping perhaps the more you squeezed, the more he would believe you.

You held his face in your hands, and willed him to look at you. “I love you so much, Michael. This was not your fault. Blame the shooter, they caused this whole thing. Jake will see that eventually, you haven’t lost him.”

Brown eyes held steady on yours, searching them with a gaze that nearly made you shy away. But you hold strong, wiping away the tears on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Robby! Robby!” Dana’s voice came through the curtain, before it was pushed aside.

Dana only blinked at the sight of you, you knelt in front of your husband, both of your faces twisted and pained.

You found your voice, “Just two minutes, Dana. Please.”

She only nodded, closing the curtain again and disappearing.

“I can’t promise the rest of this is going to be any easier, but,” You paused. “Fuck it, if you want to leave, we can blame me right now. Say I have high blood pressure and you want to make sure I get home safe. I don’t care. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

You remembered all the times he covered for you when your morning sickness made you late, or when he had taken time away from the hectic flow to talk you through a bad case, or a death. When he shouldered the weight of an abrasive family member or aggressive patient, even before you were married. The times he let you leave early when you were having a bad day, or encouraged you to take breaks even when he didn’t.

“Let me try to take care of you right now. Please. Whatever you need.”

Michael took a long breath, rubbing his eyes. “Let me just splash some water on my face. After…stay by my side?”

“Done. If you need a minute, tell me to take a break and come with me. I can shoulder that right now.”

You did not say it because you thought he was weak, but simply because you felt you had the capacity to bear the brunt of the remainder of this shift. People knew he was going to worry about you regardless of the situation, so him ‘checking in’ would not phase them.

“Michael,” you started as you both moved to stand, him offering a hand to help you, “You’ve always been so great with Jake, just give him some time.” You paused, “You’re going to be an amazing father to our child.”

Tears flooded his eyes again and you felt like you had just made it worse while trying to make it better.

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. How on earth did I—”

You cupped his cheek and hushed him again, bringing his face to yours until your foreheads touched. “I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you softly, before bringing you into a hug, careful of your growing bump.

When you parted, he took one last deep breath before facing the chaos that awaited you both out in the ED. You knew the heavier parts of your conversation were going to have to be shelved until you got home.

Michael moved toward the closest bathroom and you rushed back to red zone. There were no words to exchange with Jack, but with a knowing glance at him, he seemed to understand.

“Robby’s moving me to red. Bilal’s got pink covered.” You told him, referencing the night attending.

Abbot only nodded.

When Michael returned only a minute later, you watched him — had you not known him that well, you might not have been able to guess what had just transpired. You were thankful no one else in the hospital knew him as well as you did.

You got back to work, busying your hands to try to stop your mind from worrying too much. Whatever he had done in the bathroom, he had clearly thrown his panic attack into a bag and stuffed it deep inside his mind. It made your heart ache, but you would help him unpack it once you were both in the safety of your home.

Michael still made sound decisions, and not once did you feel the need to question his judgement. Jack was steadfast with you both, and you were grateful for him.

—

It was 10pm by the time the dust began to settle and the situation finally simmered to a more controllable level. You were beat and you had only been there a few hours, Michael encouraging you to take a seat and have some water while he checked on a handful of things. You took that moment to find Jake — who now had been stitched up and was with his mom.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I really wish I could have met her.”

He nodded numbly, “You would’ve really liked her.”

A sad smile formed on your lips, “I’m sure I would have.”

You wanted to tell him to go easy on Robby, but the words did not form on your tongue. It was still too soon, and while you did not want Jake to blame him, you knew it wasn’t the time or place.

You parted from them sadly, before going to check on the med students and finally finding Michael with Jack.

It was a half hour later that you both finally left, Michael following you silently to your car. You were still digesting it all, wondering how the hell you were even going to begin processing it.

At home, you both quickly discarded your scrubs to the floor and made your way to the bathroom. It went unsaid that you both needed to wash this shift off, more so mentally than physically, but being clean would certainly make you feel better.

It was amazing how well you had learned to read each other, and you held onto him under the warm water for a long moment. He kissed the side of your head before grabbing the soap, sudsing up his hands and gently cleaning your skin. You relished in the feeling of him.

Once you rinsed off, you returned the favor. You moved your hands over his arms, his chest and then his back. You added a kiss here and there, knowing he enjoyed your touch just as much. He held your belly in his hands, eyes faraway again — but you brought your hand to his face to get his attention.

You kissed him, holding onto him and trying to translate all the things you felt into it. He returned the kiss and you felt yourself sigh in contentment.

It was quiet, but cathartic.

You both dried off, and changed before collapsing into your bed, Michael immediately pulling you close. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the calming sound of his heart.

Moving off his chest, you pulled him close to you and let him rest his head on you, his hand going to your belly. His breathing was slow and controlled, but you knew his mind was racing. You held him tight, your fingers going to his hair.

“I’d like to talk about today.” You said. “Not right now. Maybe not even tomorrow, or this week. But eventually.”

He was quiet, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes on your stomach. “We can do that.”

“I’m here when you’re ready.” You told him.

He moved to press his lips to yours, peppering your face with kisses, before bringing you back to his chest. He held you for a long time and you did not even dare let go.

“I saw what it was.” He said.

“Oh?” You questioned against his chest, leaning your head back to look at him.

“Our baby.”

“Well don’t leave me in suspense.”

He grinned and kissed you deeply. Truth was, it didn’t matter. And as you held each other, you knew it was all going to be okay.

[ Next ]

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready

The med student and two residents share subtle looks, watching the interaction. 

“Is my husband around?” You asked Dana, glancing around to see if he was nearby. It was never predictable where he might be. It’s not uncommon for him to not answer his phone when he works and you don’t blame him. It’s understandable. But it’s rare for you to show up at the department, that usually means it’s important.

The three watching noticed your eyes wandering, quickly busying themselves. Santos and Javadi looked at the same computer, as if they were reading results together. While Whitaker fumbled with the chart he’d picked up. The two women look at him in disbelief and annoyance. Smooth. 

“Trauma one. He’s in a mood.” Dana pre warned you, giving you a knowing look. You weren’t surprised by the fact, very aware how moody Robby can be when he’s stressed. 

“Not surprising.” You huffed out a dry laugh. “When isn’t he?”

“True that.” The charge nurse hiffs, knowing you'd understand more than anyone. But you’re able to diffuse him unlike anyone else. 

“Alright if I hang around?” You asked, knowing the answer but much preferring to be sure instead of assuming. 

“Of course.” Dana assured you, well aware you don’t like to presume but instead hear directly. Everyday is different in the ED. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Levi.” You explained, not details but enough for her to understand that something had happened. Your son could get into his own mess these days, he’s 22 and at college, figuring out his life. Didn’t mean he didn’t avoid doing dumb shit. 

Before Dana could respond, her mouth hanging open before shutting as a painstakingly familiar voice rang out. 

“What’re you doing here?” You heard your husband’s gruff voice, head turning as he wandered up beside you. He pressed a kiss to your head before his eyes returned to your face. Concern was etched across his features, worried that something was wrong. You didn’t show up here without a reason. 

Javadi tried to not look invested but she was, Robby was married? Santos and Whitaker thinking the same thing. And this woman is his wife? No way. That can’t be right. 

“Your son decided that getting drunk and running around campus was a good idea.” You informed him dryly. This is the second time you've talked about this. Not that you were angry but more annoyed. You had to leave work, because Robby couldn’t, to go and get him from the police station by his campus. “Naked.”

“Why is he always my son when he does something stupid?” Robby inquired in disbelief before shaking his head immediately. It was too early for this, barely 8:30am.  “Actually, don’t answer that.”

He knew that if either of you had passed the doing something dumb gene, it was him. He had never done something quite like that but he was the more reckless between the two of you. He didn’t need to have his workplace hear about some of the dumb things he’s done in his 20s. 

Levi isn't a bad kid. Just tends to do dumb things.

Javadi, Whitaker and Santos all shared glances in utter shock. This man has a son? A kid? No way. They don't believe they’d heard this correctly. 

“Anyways. He’s alright. But he called Jack who called me.”

“Fuck.” Your husband signed, hanging his head low before looking back at you. “You going to get him?”

He gave you a look that said you gonna go or… not to rush you out but instead to figure out why you were hanging around with your shared son behind local station bars. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, pausing before you explained absentmindedly. “Letting him sweat a bit.”

“You’re evil.” He commented dryly. 

“It’s why you married me.” You grinned. 

He huffed a soft yet dry laugh. He won’t even deny it. Your nature was one of the many reasons he’d fallen inlove with you in the first place. He knows how incredible of a mother you are. He’s cherished raising children with you. He’d never seen you so soft and loving. He sometimes still found it hard to believe you had married and had kids with him. 

But he was aware that you weren’t going to let this stint slide. 

“That’s why you’re here?” He quizzed, almost a little amused, though pissed that his son had done something so stupid. This would be something you two would discuss with him later. 

“Partially. But thought I'd tell you before Jack blabs at shiftchange.” You answered, not going to have spoken to him later about this. It was too important. And you knew Jack would’ve let him know this evening. Better if it comes from you. 

Jack has been a staple in your kids' lives since he’d met Robby years ago. When Robby had started working at PTMC as an attending, you’d been pregnant with your second child. When Jack had joined a few years later, your kids were 8 and 6 at the time. He’d immediately grown attached, loving them like they were his own. They adored him, not having a day without him since (minus when he’d been in the army and deployed). 

As much as he loves them, he made it clear he wouldn’t keep things from you and Robby. Especially when it’s important. He loved them. But he loves you both too. All of you are like his family. He wasn’t going to lie. 

“Good thinking.” He nodded, appreciative you’d told him instead of letting him be blindsited later. 

“I’ll head out.” You said, wanting to get this whole thing sorted and just get back home. Not like you’d go back to the office. Thankfully your appointments were all via zoom today, it helped. “Hopefully won’t take too long but i’ll let you know.”

“Alright, thanks.” Robby replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It was something he always did when you’d separate for the day. “See you after work.”

“I love you.” You said softly, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you, honey.”

You waved goodbye to him and Dana, turning back around and heading back to your car. 

“You’re married?” Santos blurted in disbelief, unable to keep it in. Whitaker nudged her with his elbow in panic, she should not have said that. 

He looks over at her, pulling the chain out from under his undershirt. The chain dangled with a gold band hanging from it. His wedding ring. “26 years.” 

He doesn’t hide he’s married. He just doesn’t find himself needing to share that information unwarranted. He loves his wife and kids but he prefers to keep his family outside of the workplace. So if he’s not prompted, he doesn't talk about them. 

“How… when … what?” Santos stammered, in disbelief he’s been married. To you. For 26 years. 

“You didn’t know?” Langdon quizzed the three as he wandered to the desk, amused at their shocked expressions.

“Don’t act like you didn’t react the same way when you found out.” Dana mused, shooting Langdon a knowing look. 

He can’t even deny it. When he discovered his attending’s long-lasting marriage, he was shocked. The man didn’t seem emotionally capable. But must've been wrong. He’s grown to know that over the last few years when he’d seen you two interact. 

Robby is a man inlove. 

“How’d you meet?” Javadi mustered up the courage to ask, curious to hear how you’d met. Especially since you’d been married for so long. 

Robby huffed a laugh at the memory, recalling the evening you’d met. It was forever seared into his memory.

1995.

Robby was out with a couple of his med school classmates for a rare night out between rotations. Being a MS3 was intense, going from classroom to real direct-contact work with patients. 

The four of them were mostly sharing how their recent rotation had been. They’d all been put into different specialties. Paediatrics, orthopaedics, cardiology and gastroenterology. 

He was mid laugh when his eyes glanced over the room, eyes locking on you. It felt like his breath had been pulled from his lungs. 

You were out with friends for a monthly catch up. Since you’d both graduated and begun your career’s, you rarely get to spend time together. The two of you made it a point to organise a once a month where you’re both free to catch up in person. Talking on the phone can only do so much for a friendship sometimes. 

The two of you were chatting, discussing recent events in your lives. She was halfway through telling you about an incident at her new job. 

“God, can you believe it?” She said in disbelieving scoff. “I mean, who in their right mind thinks that it’s okay to show up drunk and deny the whole thing, it's just dumb to try and gaslight your boss.”

“That’s so fucked. Please tell me he was fired. Or at least suspended.” You said in disgust, already hating whoever this guy was.

“I wish.” Your friend shook her head in annoyance. She went to take a sip of her drink, to realise it was empty. “But I will say that I need another drink.”

“I’ll get some.” You said as you stood up with a chuckle, grabbing your wallet. Though you gave her a playfully pointed look. “Don’t venture anywhere.”

“No promises.” she teased, though not really planning to go anywhere. She was the type to just wander away without prompt. But honestly, so are you. She’s just worse than you, especially when intoxicated. 

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at the tease, but accepted it. It's normal for the two of you, the teasing. But you do hope she won’t venture far if she decides to. 

You made your way to the bar, sliding up between a tall man and a woman, there being a gap. They weren’t interacting so you took it as a safe spot to choose. It didn’t take long for the bartender to make it to you, barely 30 seconds.

“What can I get for ya?” He asked, leaning forward slightly to make sure he could hear you. It wasn’t too loud but to be safe. 

“Vodka lemonade and a vodka coke please.” You asked kindly, always making sure to be nice to staff. He nodded and got to making the drinks.

Robby glanced down at you when he heard the honeyed voice. Oh shit. It’s you. He made an effort not to stare at you from a distance when he’d noticed you earlier. He’s not shy but he respects you’d been with a friend and he’d been with his. He barely noticed the bartender he’s spoken to before, placing the beers he’d asked for in front of him. 

“Thanks.” He said to the guy but he made no effort to move. He glanced down at you again, at the same time your eyes had flickered up to him. You gave him a smile before looking back ahead of you, eyes seemingly glancing around behind the bar. 

Robby’s attention went back to the bartender as he dug out a few bills and handed them over. He gestured with his head towards you besides him. “Her’s too.”

The bartender nodded, not really having much of a thought as he put the money through, conversing with the other bartender for what you’d asked for to figure out the total cost. 

Your head had snapped up towards him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. You’ve had guys offer to buy you drinks, your friend too. Though never had been quite as forward as this. 

“That’s awfully nice of you.” You commented dryly, looking up at him. You were a little suspicious. But you can't help but think of how gorgeous he is. It’s not actually fair. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He said honestly, offering you a grin that made your heart skip a beat. Fuck this guy. 

“But it got you talking to me.” He added a beat later, that breathtaking grin widening a smidge. 

“Ah, so that was your plan, huh?”

“No, kinda just happened in the moment.” He said with a shrug, grin not faltering. It wasn't a total lie. He had been thinking about ways he could start a conversation with you. He normally can do without ease. But you’d made him throw away the idea of using shitty pickup lines. 

“In the moment.” You chuckled, a grin of your own forming. Somehow you could tell it wasn’t a complete lie, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth. For not, you wouldn’t question it. As gorgeous as he is, you didn’t plan on hanging around long. You had your friend to get back to. 

“That hard to believe?” He teased, having noted you seemed to be somewhat amused. 

“Nope, but you can’t tell me you don’t already have a list of pick-up lines ready to go.” You joked, but half-meaning it. He was unfairly attractive and you’re sure he knew it. No doubt he could easily get a girl’s attention. 

The bartender placed your drinks in front of you. Thanking him, you turned back to the man you’d been interacting with. 

“You got me.” He chuckled, not going to deny it. “But they don’t seem like something you’d be interested in”

“Now that's a line.” You laughed, grin turning into a genuine smile. 

That smile? That nearly stopped his heart. 

“Maybe it is.” He said with a light laugh, not denying but not having intended on it being that way. But really, anything to make sure you kept smiling like that. He leant his head slightly forward towards you, speaking in a conspiratorial murmur. “Did it work?”

“I’m not at liberty to answer that.” You chuckled, unwilling to admit that maybe it was. It might just be his pretty face. But you weren’t immune. 

“Besides, I have my friend to get back to.” You added, gesturing over to your friend. When your eyes landed on her, she seemed to be occupied with a guy. The two close together as they seemed in deep conversation. Good for her.

“Ah, that's one of mine.” he chuckled, eyes having followed where you’d directed and seeing it was one of his friends with your friend. He hadn’t quite anticipated his friend chatting with yours. But it certainly seemed to work in his favour here so he won’t complain. 

“Yeah?” You quizzed but weren’t completely convinced he hadn’t coordinated that. 

“Not my doing. Promise." He chuckled, raising his hands in faux-defence, sensing you thought it may have been. He meant it, genuinely not having a single thing to do with the situation. But he thought of it as good luck. 

Your eyes drifted back to him, eyebrows raised. You looked at him for a few beats before grabbing your friend's drink and one of his beers. “Don’t move.”

He didn’t say anything as you left him, and your own drink. Not a smart move but it hadn’t even occurred to you in the moment. You made your way back to the table your friend was at, placing the drinks down in front of her and her guest. You subtly winked at her before you turned back and headed towards the drink and man you’d left.

As you slid back besides him, he felt elated. He hadn’t felt this excited to just talk to a woman in well … ever. 

“Gonna tell me your name or am i gonna have to guess?”

“Michael. But you can call me Robby.”

“I don’t see how that correlates.” You mused, raising an eyebrow at him. You don't exactly see how those names worked together. Robby? You think Robert. 

“Robinavitch.” he explained with a chuckle, eyes dazzling. 

“Ah, gotcha.” You nodded with another light chuckle. Last name. You told him your name in return. 

He repeated your name, letting it roll off of his tongue. He liked it. It was your name after all. 

The two of you converesed. You discussed your lives, work, study, friends, hobbies. You discovered he was a third year med student, just completing a rotation in cardiology. He mentioned he liked the idea of emergency, wanting to help people at the hardest point of their lives. You respected it, understood it even. You were hanging onto every word he spoke, enjoying the words rolling off his lips and interested in what he was saying. That hasn’t happened in a long time.

He discovered you had graduated with a bachelor of psychology last year, now practising as such as you worked on completing your masters of clinical psychology. You explained how you want to conduct cognitive clinical assessments for patients who think they might have ADHD, autism and anything else that might support patients understand what is going on inside their brains. You didn’t go into details but you had admitted you’d had your own struggles with mental health. That being a huge part of wanting to support others with theirs. You wanted to work in a few areas of psychology, he had gathered. 

You two spoke for hours. Literally hours. About everything and nothing at the same time. You joked, had serious topics at hand and discussed absolutely anything either of you could think of. 

You checked the time on the wall with a glance, realising it was nearing 12am. God, you’d been talking to him since about 9, knowing you’d been here since at least 8 when you and your friend had arrived. Neither of you even touched your drinks, both just sitting there useless. 

“Not to cut this short…” You said with a light huff as you got up from the seat you’d been on. Eventually the two of you had drifted to an empty table, finding it more comfortable to be seated as you chatted. But he would’ve happily stood there in discomfort if he got to hear your voice. Not that he’d admit that. “...but I should go, it's nearly 12.”

He looked at the clock as you spoke, eyes widening in surprise. It had been 3 hours? That’s how long he’d been talking to you. It felt like it had been 30 minutes. His eyes drifted back to you, not going to argue. He should probably find out if his friends are still here or not. You’d both noticed yours and his friend leaving earlier, so you didn’t need to worry about her being alone. 

“Yeah, it was great talking to you.” He said with a soft smile. He was disappointed you were leaving but he understood. And he wasn’t going to make assumptions. Not with you. Other women he may have made some sort of line, getting them to go home with him or vice versa to never see them again the next day. But he didn’t want to do that with you. 

“You too.” You replied with a smile of your own. “Bye, Michael.”

“Bye.” He smiled, his lips tugging wider at the use of his first name. Not his nickname. But his name. He watched as you waved and made your exit, eyes trailing you as you walking out the front door. He let out a small sigh, disappointed you were gone. He realised a moment later that he hadn’t even asked for your number. The thought slipped. Likely to avoid the anxiety. He;d never been anxious to ask a girl for her number before. 

Meanwhile, the cold air was a welcomed slap to the face from the heat of inside the bar. It was soothing. But you couldn’t help the disappointment you felt. You had really begun to like him. You’d spoken for hours. Not like you’d spilled your entire life story. But still, you thought something was there. Something you hadn’t felt before. Not with your exes. 

You became annoyed. Had he not felt that? Or did he? Either way, he didn’t ask for any form of contact details for you. 

With a huff, you turned back inside and marched towards him. 

Robby was shocked when he saw your figure storming towards him. He had just stood up to go in search for his friends. 

“Okay. We have something. There’s this … this… I don't know … spark. It's there.” You ranted, eyes wide as you looked up at him. You wished you could blame it on the alcohol because this was not something you did. But you couldn’t help but blurt this at him. You can be embarrassed later. “We’ve been talking for hours. Literal hours. And you don’t ask for my number? Seriously? What the fuck?!”

His eyes were wide in shock as you spoke before softening. He hadn't exactly anticipated you running back to tell him off. It was hot. A soft grin tugged at his lips at each word you said. 

“What?” You asked him in annoyance, arms now crossed over your chest. 

“Is it too late to ask for your number?” He questioned, a hint of tease mixed in the hope in his voice. He had wanted to ask but had been caught off guard by you leaving. He was nervous at the prospect. What if you’d said no? That’d have just about broken his heart. 

“You’re asking now?” You asked dryly. “Because I yelled at you?”

“First, you didn't yell. You firmly stated your annoyance.” He corrected genuinely but firmly  “second, i wanted to but i got nervous.”

“Nervous?” you quizzed, not quite believing that. He hadn’t been nervous the entire time you’d spoken to him. Not openly anyways. 

“Yeah. Nervous.” He admitted without shame. “Beautiful girl I've been talking to all night rejects me? That's nerve-wrecking.”

“Enough with the lines.” You responded dryly. He hadn’t really given you lines but that didn’t automatically exclude him from going to use them. 

“Not a line. I'm serious.” Robby said, sincerity seeping through his voice. His eyes didn’t leave yours. He wanted you to know he wasn’t trying to be smooth. Just honest. 

You stared at him for a few moments, debating if you could trust it. He sounded painfully sincere. You don’t think you can fake this kind of honestly. 

“Still want my number?”

Present. 

“I love her.” Javadi rushed out immediately, then flushing with embarrassment as she realised she said that outloud. Her hand covered her mouth in shock at her own words. 

Robby just chuckled, which surprised her and the two residents. 

“She’s incredible.” He commented fondly. His mind reeled with thoughts of you. Both from recent years and the early times of your relationship. 

“Careful, you’re sounding human.” Dana joked, though she had grown fond of the dynamic between you and the attending. He was practically a different person with you. Your kids too. 

“Don’t let my daughter hear that, she’ll use it against me.” He joked back, having broken out of his thoughts and preferring the humour based dynamic in the workplace. He didn’t need to be vulnerable here. Not about his family.

Before anyone could respond, he headed off. Intending to see a patient, check in to see how his residents are doing. But he’d instead slowed his moments and pulled out his phone, pulling up your text chain.  

Husband <3: if he claims he was dared, you’re going to let me eat you out Wife: if he says that he’s made a mistake and won’t do it again, you’ll eat me out Husband <3: deal

“I’m sorry … DAUGHTER?!” 

He heard the disbelief of his resident, ignoring the question and instead pocketing his phone continuing on his day. He’s the chief attending here. At home? He’s just a man who’s obsessed with his wife.