#i mean like...kinda..if she snapped fully maybe..

another guy had hit on you, not even glancing at toph, standing right next to you. she hit her limit and flew a rock right at him— just barely missing.

a warning shot.

though you’re sure it was an accidental miss.

as soon as you two were alone, you exploded.

“you can’t just do that to anyone that tries to talk to me!” you pace back and forth in front of her. the guy long gone by now. scared shitless.

toph scoffs, leaning her weight onto one leg, chin tilted up like she’s already bored of this.

“yeah, i can,” she shoots back. “and i will. guy was a creep.”

“he asked me for directions.”

“he lingered,” she snaps, jabbing a finger toward where you had been standing minutes ago. “heartbeat was off. i didn’t like it.”

unbelievable.

there’s a beat of silence, thick and intense.

“it’s not romantic,” you say, quieter now but sharper. “it’s controlling.”

that hits a nerve.

you can feel it in the way she shifts, her stance tightening, jaw clenching.

“i’m protecting what’s mine.”

“i’m not something you own.”

her head tilts slightly, like she’s recalibrating, but her expression hardens instead of softening.

“didn’t say you were.”

“you act like it.”

another pause. this one longer.

“maybe if you didn’t smile at every idiot who walks up to you—”

“oh my god,” you cut her off. “i’m being polite.”

“i’m starting to think you just like the attention.”

you pause your pacing. not believing your ears.

“…what?”

toph doesn’t back down. she never does.

“i said what i said,” she mutters, arms still crossed, chin tilted up like she’s daring you to react. “you don’t exactly shut it down fast.”

the hurt hits before the anger does.

“wow,” you breathe, a laugh of disbelief slipping out. “so that’s what you think of me?”

“you heard me.”

“i did. i just didn’t think you’d actually mean it.”

silence stretches between the two of you, like a wire about to snap.

you want to scream, shout, let it out. (im giggling)

instead, you flee. your feet moving before your brain can catch up.

“hey—“

you ignore her.

“don’t walk away from me.”

you pick up your pace.

“seriously?” she snaps. “that’s how you’re handling this?”

you let out a humorless laugh, not even turning around. “oh, now you care about how things are handled?”

a sharp crack echoes behind you. the stone shifts, cutting you off as the ground rises, blocking your path.

you stop.

slowly, you turn.

“…move it.”

toph stands a few feet away, shoulders tight, fists clenched at her sides. she doesn’t move the earth.

“no.”

your jaw tightens in annoyance. “toph.”

“no. stop running.”

“i’m not running,” you snap, turning fully to face her. “i’m leaving a conversation that clearly isn’t going anywhere.”

“it was,” she shoots back. “you just didn’t like where it was going.”

a bitter laugh slips out. “yeah, because apparently i ‘like the attention’, right?”

toph flinches, barely noticeable. most people wouldn’t catch it.

but you do.

“move the wall, toph.” you repeat, quieter now.

she doesn’t.

the ground hums faintly under your feet.

toph’s control slipping a little.

“…i hate it”

you blink. “hate what?”

she hesitates.

“i hate how easy it is for them,” she says finally, voice lower. rougher. “they just walk up. look at you. talk to you like they have a shot.”

you’re thrown off by the sudden shift.

you’re about to tell her to drop it, when she cuts in.

“i hate that they can see you,” her voice is sharper now, not directed at you, more at the thought itself. “i hate that they get to look at you the way i can’t.”

that knocks the wind out of you a little.

the anger fading.

toph’s fists clench at her sides.

“i don’t know what they’re seeing,” she continues, words coming faster now, like she’s been thinking about this for days. “i don’t know the looks they’re giving you. i don’t know when it crosses a line. all i get is… heartbeats. voices. distance.”

her jaw tightens.

“and meanwhile, they get everything else.”

the anger in her voice shifts to something more raw.

you don’t say anything.

“i’m standing right next to you,” she says, “and it still feels like they have more access to you than i do.”

that one sinks deep.

“…toph—“

“i don’t get to see you smile,” she cuts in, voice dropping even further. “not the way they do. i don’t get to see how you look at them— i just… hear it.”

her head dips slightly.

“and yeah,” she adds, bitter. “maybe that makes me jealous.”

the words hang between you. heavy and honest.

“i’m jealous that they can look at you whenever they want,” she says. “that they don’t have to guess what you look like in a room full of people. that they don’t have to wonder if you’re giving someone else a look you’ve never given me.”

your chest tightens.

“that’s not—”

“i know,” she cuts in quickly, like she already knows what you’re going to say. “i know you’re not doing anything. i know that.”

you hesitate. “then why—“

toph exhales sharply, like the words are stuck somewhere between her pride and her throat.

“…because i’m an idiot.” she mutters.

she shifts her weight, jaw tight, clearly hating every second of this ‘being vulnerable’ thing.

“i shouldn’t have said it.” she adds, quieter now.

it’s the closest thing to an apology you’ve ever gotten from toph.

your chest softens a little.

toph goes quiet again, shoulders still tense.

she shifts, like she wants to reach for you—but doesn’t.

you notice it immediately.

this time, you don’t let it sit there.

you step forward, your hand finding hers.

toph stills and the wall behind you comes crumbling down.

“you don’t have to see me the way they do,” you say quietly. “because they don’t know me.”

toph’s head tilts slightly, listening.

“they don’t know what i’m thinking. they don’t know what i’m like when it’s just us. they don’t know how i feel about you.”

you squeeze her hand softly.

“they don’t feel me the way you do. or make me feel the way you do..”

that makes her breath hitch, her hand giving you a small squeeze back.

“so honestly? i think you’re the real winner here.” you add, a small teasing edge slipping back in despite everything.

toph huffs softly, something almost like a laugh breaking through the tension.

there’s a beat.

and then her hand moves, quick, decisive this time. pulling you in.

your lips meet hers, sharp, like the argument hasn’t fully left both your systems yet.

toph’s other hand comes up to your waist, holding you there like she’s making sure you’re real.

when you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together.

“…still think i like the attention?” you murmur.

she notices the way your voice drops.

the way it usually drops whenever you’re.. in the mood.

“i think you’re horny.” toph smirks, listening to the way your heart seems to beat just a smidge faster than before.

you press your lips together, fighting back a smile. “you’re playing dirty..”

she kisses you again, not wasting any time.

she uses one of her feet to earthbend a rock right behind you, gently pushing you against it, mouth never leaving yours.

she can feel you smiling into her mouth, relishing the way you chase her desperately when she moves away.

you’re about to protest, but swallow your words when you watch her get on her knees right in front of you.

her way of apologizing.

she uses her hands to spread your legs, though you subconsciously already opened them up for her.

“let me make you feel good.” she begs, hands traveling to your thighs, pushing your dress up slightly. awaiting your response.

you nod, then swallow. “yeah.. yeah, okay.”

she leans in, her chin resting on your thigh before tilting her head, leaving soft kisses.

like she’s trying to map you out with her lips, slowly making her way where you want her.

she’s too slow for your taste. you buck your hips upwards, trying to guide her where you need her.

she gets the hint. no need to tell her twice.

no need to tell her once.

before you know it your panties are long forgotten on the ground, her warm mouth on you, exactly where you need it.

hands gripping your thighs as if afraid you’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold you close.

it’s sloppy.

you use one of your hands to grip the stone you’re leaned against, trying to keep yourself from sliding down. the other reaches the bottom of your dress. hiking it up so you can take a look at toph’s concentrated face.

toph speeds up, your adorable noises spurring her on.

your little gasps and twitches. the way you keep moving closer— but also away from her mouth when she hits all the right spots with a little more force than usual.

toph takes a break, panting, placing her hand next to your thigh, right against the rock.

feeling you through it.

you immediately miss her warmth. you’re about to complain when she leans over you, her mouth glistening with your mess.

she can’t see, but she knows you’re staring at her lips.

she kisses you, hand gripping your throat, not squeezing so tight that it hurts, just pulling you closer.

you moan into it, your body immediately reacting to her fingers that found their way on your throbbing clit.

you’re dripping.

dripping just for her.

only her.

“what do you need, baby?” she whispers against your mouth. wanting to hear you say it.

you pout, gasping at the small flick she gives your clit teasingly.

“toph…” you sigh, desperate, needy. whiney, even.

“yeah, you do.” she smirks and speeds up, enjoying every little sound you make for her.

she mocks your little noises, but you can’t bring yourself to scold her. too lost far gone.

she feels your legs shake and completely stills her hand. making you throw your head back, letting out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

you were so close.

she looks at you— feels you.

“i love you.”

your heart softens.

you’re about to say it back when her movements begin again. this time not teasing.

she wants to feel you gush all over her hands.

her mouth too.

she moves her head down again, giving your clit a soft kiss before diving in hard, letting one of her fingers push into you.

you moan.

embarrassingly loud.

“t-toph..!” you gasp, trembling.

she pushes another finger in, pumping into you. she can’t get enough of you. she needs to feel you come against her, she needs to swallow every last drop of you.

you whimper, all of the sensations are just too much. you feel like you’re about to pass out, or come, or both.

most definitely both.

she feels how close you are, doubling her efforts to get you there.

your hips buck up desperately, everything is too much. the only word your mind can come up with is her name over and over again.

you try to push her head away, but toph knows what you need. better than you do. she keeps going. using just one hand to open your legs wider, her muscles straining, but she has her goal in sight.

her fingers hitting spots deep inside you, spots reserved just for her fingers.

you’re hers.

“please—“ you beg, not even sure if it’s for her to keep going or not.

it makes her speed up her movements. tongue swirling around your clit, fingers pumping even faster, causing you to almost crush her head with your thighs, moaning as you reach your peak.

it’s the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a while. your vision blurs and you lean so far back that toph has to swiftly bend another piece of rock to stop you from falling over.

she removes her mouth from your pussy, a trail following her as she leans back, proud.

she slowly pulls her fingers out, sliding them along your puffy clit. soft, yet you still twitch.

you’re a hot mess.

eventually it gets too much and you push her hand away with a tired smile. she lets you, leaning in to give you a sweet peck on your cheek.

you ignore how sticky it makes your cheek feel. too fucked out to care.

“good?”

you hum, exhausted.

you move in to kiss her but you slide down the rock, almost falling flat on your ass— of course, toph raises the rock, cushioning your fall.

“i’m the greatest earthbender alive.” she jokes, before showering you with sticky kisses.

A/N : tried fixing the spacing because i use an app to write and i feel like it messed it up a bit.. if u couldn’t tell, i gave up halfway. sorry!

posting this got the same vibe as wearing a hat for the first time but you feel like everybody knows ur not actually a hat guy normally so u know u just look stupid

enjoy it… or don’t idk do NOT lmk what u think

Walking up that familiar path, you blew out a rough sigh.

You regretted coming. It wasn’t even your idea… Okay, maybe it was your idea.

The softball team had a rivalry game the next day and your co-captain thought it would really boost attendance if the dearly beloved hockey team came. Ordinarily, you had no issues recruiting the other teams to come support or even rallying your own girls to support your fellow Briar U athletes. The problem was that your ex-boyfriend was on the hockey team.

You pulled your phone, hoping for an abort text from your co-captain. Maybe she had been able to catch Beau after class and ask him to take care of it. He was close friends with Dean, surely he could get him to say yes.

Instead, all she sent was a good luck text and fingers crossed emojis. You sent a middle finger emoji in return and walked up the short steps. The last time you were on the porch, you were leaving a box of John’s things. You hadn’t even knocked that day.

After learning the hard way, you picked up the habit of knocking before entering that house. You once walked in without and saw more of Dean Di Laurentis than you had ever wanted to.

You opened the door slowly with your head down as you knocked four times.

“Everyone decent?” You called out.

“Hey!” Dean answered. “You’re good!”

“Thank god.” You mumbled and fully walked in, pushing the door shut behind you. “Just you?”

“Nah, G’s upstairs and Logan’s out back I think. I can get him if you-“

“No!” You said. Dean’s eyebrows raised and he smiled at your reaction, making you realize you had given that answer too fast and too loud. “I don’t need John, I mean. I didn’t come to talk to him. I can just ask you.”

“No?” Dean laughed. “What’s wrong with Logan?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him.” You rolled your eyes slightly.

“You came all this way to not talk to him?”

“Can you stop being a dick for like five minutes? I would’ve called but I kinda figured it’d be better to ask multiple of you guys at once.”

“So we do need Logan!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at you.

“Ohmygod.” You ran a hand down your face. “Missa wanted me to-“

“What about Logan?” The familiar voice came into the room and a familiar heat flushed your body.

You hadn’t spoken much to John since you two broke up. You saw him on campus or when you went with Hannah to the hockey games or their parties, but that didn’t mean you two held a conversation. It was mainly just awkward nods or clipped sentences.

“Hey.” You breathed.

John hesitated slightly once he saw you.

—

“I have a real shot at captain this season.” You laughed nervously. “This is major!”

“Yeah, that’s great.” John smiled. “You’ve been working hard lately.”

“Johnnycake, this is huge. There’s hardly ever been a walk-on named captain.”

“I’m proud of you. You earned this.”

You smiled a little wider and John threw his arm around your shoulders.

–

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” You laughed in disbelief.

“No, I’m not mad.” John answered, his voice tight.

“Really? Do you hear yourself or…?”

“Seriously, Y/N, it’s fine. Let’s just forget it.”

“No. That’s not fair.”

John laughed slightly and made a face to himself before meeting your eyes. “That’s what you think isn’t fair? Not that we hardly see each other anymore?”

“You’re the one who told me to go for captain!” You yelled, throwing your hands forward. “I don’t make the fucking schedule, John! Coach thinks we can make a serious play-off run with this squad so yes, we’re practicing a little more but it’s hardly any different than your schedule. Jesus, half the time you don’t even ask how anything with the team is going! And I never held that against you!”

“I never let it keep me from you!”

“It did. It fucking did and you know it.”

“I always made time for you.”

“Physically, sure, but mentally you were checked the fuck out on me more often than not.”

“But I was fucking there!”

“Because everything was planned around your schedule! Around your practice, your games, your parties even.”

“You never had an issue with my schedule before.”

“Cause I didn’t care!” You insisted.

“Apparently you did!”

“How is all of this my fault now?”

“I never said it’s your fault.”

“You didn’t have to! ‘I never let it keep me from you’ obviously means that I’m not doing enough for you.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant.”

“Please.” You threw your hands forward. “Tell me what you fucking meant then.”

He covered his face with both hands as he mumbled something you couldn’t understand. He looked at you again but you simply crossed your arms and stared expectantly.

“I’m allowed to want to spend time with my girlfriend, right?” He began and you nodded quietly. “That’s all this is, okay?”

“I’m trying, John. Really, I am, but I can’t rearrange every aspect of my schedule to match yours. I don’t set our lifting times or our field times or film days or any of it. Between that and classes, I’m running myself in circles and I would love it if I could get just a little bit of grace from my boyfriend.”

“If you weren’t happy, you should’ve said something sooner. We could’ve figured it out sooner.”

“I wasn’t gonna push on something you can’t quite control.”

“You’d rather just be miserable?” He scoffed. “Why?”

“Because I just wanted to make it work! I thought you wanted that, too…”

“I do.” He nodded. “Fuck. I do, I’m sorry. I’m just- I’m just tired, okay? Can we not fight about this?”

“We can’t just ignore it.” You countered. There was no anger in your voice, just the hurt realization that your relationship had come to a screeching halt. “Neither of us are gonna wake up tomorrow and suddenly not be busy and tired. John, if we can’t figure this out now, what does it mean for us later on?”

“Y/N…” He sighed. He knew you were right. He was probably thinking the same thing.

You took a guess as to what that tone meant.

“Right…” You nodded slowly. “I should go then.”

“Don’t do that.” He reached for your hand.

“No, it’s-“ You took a step back, just out of his reach. “You’re right. I’m never around and it’s not fair to you. We’ve both got a lot riding on this season so…”

“That’s it then?”

“I guess so… Makes sense why you guys don’t really do relationships.” You laughed sadly. The tears were burning your eyes but you looked up, trying to blink them away.

“Garrett and Hannah make it work.” John countered softly. “Kinda thought we could, too.”

You looked back at him and sniffled. He hadn’t moved any closer but you saw the way his fingers twitched, like he wanted to hold your hand or just reach for you. He thought better of it.

“I guess they just wanted it more.” You mumbled, more to yourself than for John to hear, but the house seemed to fall silent on the other side of his bedroom door.

“Don’t say that.” His voice broke.

“It’s too late for me to change my jersey number back, though.”

—

“Earth to Y/N.” Dean said, moments before a couch pillow hit your stomach.

You snapped from your thoughts and looked over at the blond. You snatched the pillow and whacked him over the head with it. As you pulled your arm back for a second shot, you heard John laugh.

“What part of-“ Another whack. “-stop being a dick-“ Another. “-did you not hear?” One final whack before you tossed it out of his reach. “Anyways. What are you guys doing tomorrow?”

“Like me and him specifically?” John pointed between himself and Dean.

“You, him, Garrett, Tucker, Beau. Everyone.” You shrugged.

“You’ve already forgotten our schedule, Y/N/N?” Dean asked innocently. “I’m hurt.”

You looked over at the previously weaponized pillow in contemplation.

“Okay, okay.” Dean laughed, his hands up in surrender. “Just usual practice stuff, why?”

“Will you guys be done by 3:10?”

“Game tomorrow?” John asked.

“Yeah… If we win, we take over first place. This could be huge for our playoff run.” You nodded slowly. “Missa thought having the hockey team there and if Jules posted on the Fifth Line account about you guys being there, we could rally some home field advantage.”

John flashed a smile that faded as soon as it came. You shoved your hands awkwardly in your back pockets. You didn’t want to say that you threw out the idea first, specifically thinking about getting John to the game. Something felt like you needed him there to get your season back on track.

“You don’t have to.” You offered. “I know softball isn’t really your guys’ scene but-“

“It’s not that.” John cut in. “We’ll be there.”

“We will?” Dean looked to John, but John didn’t seem to notice. He was still looking at you.

“Thanks.” You smiled. “The girls will be thrilled… Just try not to make them nervous.”

“How so?”

At that, you stared pointedly at Dean. “Last year, he came to a game and I distinctly remember Alysia, Chey, and Nicki tripping over third on their way to score. They were all thrown out at the plate and when I asked what happened, the answer was all the same. Dean Di Laurentis.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Dean defended.

“He’ll behave.” John promised. “Where are you at for this year?”

“Infield.” You nodded. The awkward attempt at small talk left you feeling out of place. “Yeah, second base mostly.”

“Really?” John’s eyebrows raised as he nodded. “That’s great.”

“I still get some outfield reps but Missa’s got centerfield on lock. Most games are a no-fly zone if she’s out there.”

“You’re holding down your spot though. I’m proud of you.”

That simple sentence made your heart beat harder than it should’ve.

“Yeah, I mean… Some days I DH, just kinda depends on how the glove’s working that week.” You shrugged, rocking slightly on your feet. You watched John’s expression change to one of confusion but you didn’t want to stick around to find out why. “Uh, well, thanks again. We’ve gotta review some film before hitting so I better get going. See you guys tomorrow.”

Dean waved, shouting a goodbye as you left. You didn’t hear anything from John. Part of you wanted to believe Dean was just too loud, but you knew the more likely answer.

John didn’t say anything, just as he had said nothing when you walked out of his room that night.

You got into your car, locked the doors on habit, and pulled out your phone. You texted Missa with a relieved emoji and a thumbs up. As you went to start your car, your car had other ideas.

It stuttered, refusing to turn over and you sighed. You turned the key back off and dropped your head to the steering wheel. Everything was on inside the car, lights and stereo and dash display. You could hear the inner workings of the engine and had already talked to your dad about it. He had an idea and ordered the part for it. Before you could try your key again and use the trick your dad offered, a light tap came from your window. You jumped and shouted “ohmygod!” before turning and seeing John waiting and laughing.

You opened the door and he took it as an invitation to fill the space. He had one arm slung over the door as he leaned against your car.

“Need a ride?” He offered, a smile still on his face.

“No.” You answered plainly. “What makes you say that?”

“The defeated little head drop.” He nodded. “Does it always do that?”

“On warmer days, yeah… My dad already has a plan. We just need the part.”

“You know I can take a look at it for you.”

“I don’t need you to.”

“Yeah, I know but-“

“John.” You cut in. “We’re both too busy. Remember?”

“Definitely remember… That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a hand.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I know, I know… Doesn’t mean I can’t offer, right?”

You looked away to watch your dashboard and focus on your car’s sound as you stepped on the brake and shifted your car to neutral. You turned the key with a silent plea that it would turn over. Thankfully, it did. You threw it back into park and turned back to John.

“See? Car’s fine. I have to go.” You spoke simply.

“Real quick, what did you mean in there when you said ‘if your glove works’?” He asked, those big brown eyes showing a familiar concern.

“I didn’t say that.” You shook your head. “I said it depends on how my glove works.”

“Okay, fine, but your glove always works.”

“Not lately.” You mumbled. “This season’s been rougher than usual. It’s not a big deal.”

“You sure?” His voice was low, a gentle prodding to try and get you to confess more. For a moment, it nearly worked and you almost told him that whenever you put your jersey on and saw your number - his number - your head and heart were yanked out of the game. Half of your plays were auto-pilot and the other half was your teammate saving your ass. “Talk to me, Gorgeous.”

The old nickname made your cheeks feel hot.

“I have to go.” Was all you said instead. You reached past him and tugged lightly on your door.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, clearly not wanting to leave.

“Look at my life.” You gestured vaguely around you. “I got what I wanted.”

Without another word, only a small tap to the roof of your car, he walked away.

—

The next day at the game, you had to stay focused. If Briar could win, they would take first and win the series. It would all but guarantee first place. You owed it to yourself and your teammates to keep your head.

You and Missa led the usual warm-up routine and were throwing together.

“Who’s all coming again?” She asked.

“He said everyone so…” You shrugged.

“There’s a few ‘he’s in that house, Twos.”

Twos. The nickname all your teammates used for you. It was new, only starting this past year when you and John got together and your number changed from 13 to 22.

“John.” You answered as your throw came up short. “Fuck.”

“Hey…” She jogged in to meet you halfway. “Are you gonna be good today?”

“I have to be.” You nodded once towards the other dugout. “I can’t afford to lose it today.”

“Okay, sure, but if you’re not in it, we can ask Coach to DH you today, narrow your focus to your at-bats.”

“I want to play the field.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me.”

“Alright.” She smiled. “Be a dog today, yeah?”

You patted her back and barked once, which got her to bark back, before you two returned to your throwing distance. As you picked up where you left off, one of your coaches was at your shoulder.

“How’s the arm, Twos?” Coach Kelsey asked.

“Feelin’ good.” You nodded.

“Great, cause we need you behind the dish today.”

You nearly dropped the throw coming back to you. “I haven’t caught since-”

“I know it’s been a while but Missa’s in the circle and Alysia’s elbow is done. She needs to be at second for the shortest throws and you work best with Missa. You know the infield plays.”

“Who’s in center? Without Missa, we need speed. Those girls are aggressive at the plate so I want to maintain a no-fly zone.”

“Are you gonna do it or not?” Kelsey asked firmly. “You wanted to be a leader. This, stepping up right now, is part of it.”

“Right.” You nodded once. “My gear’s in the clubhouse.”

“Go get it. Meet Missa in the pen.”

You nodded, waved Missa in, then jogged off the field. When you got to your locker, you pulled your phone first. Immediately, you texted John.

dont sit behind the plate today plz

You didn’t have time to wait for a response. You collected your catcher’s bag then headed back out.

Warm-ups in the pen went well and before you knew it, your team was taking the field. After your throwdown, you met your infield at the circle.

“They’re aggressive on the bases so always work ahead. Annie, you and me on a steal. Let’s talk today, alright? Know where we’re going with the ball.” You hyped everyone up.

“Hell yeah, big dogs. Big dogs.” Missa nodded, giving high fives around the group.

Your infielders each barked accordingly and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Each girl patted your helmet before taking off to their spots.

“First place.” Missa held her glove towards you.

“Challenge ‘em.” You knocked her glove with your own. “Win or lose, make ‘em fucking earn it.”

The first three innings were a stalemate. No one scored, no one reached base. The crowd was loud, voices all blending together into a massive wave of sound. You were thankful you couldn’t hear any specific voice, even if part of you was listening for it.

The game’s momentum began shifting in the top of the fourth. Their lead-off batter struck out, the next batter grounded out to your third baseman, then a double. You moved in front of the plate to call the play and adjust your outfielders. Missa’s eyes met yours with a question of what to throw.

You nodded once towards the grass. Her brows furrowed and you flashed your glove once.

She tilted her head in protest. You wanted her to challenge this hitter to something to draw a play at the plate. The runner on two was fast and was going to try to score, but you knew your left fielder was leading the conference in assists. If anyone was getting that out at the plate for you, it was her.

You nodded once and she relented. As you retook your position, you found a familiar crew in the crowd. A crew that was far too close to home plate.

Jules waved and gestured to the phone that was now pointed at you. Dean and Beau were hollering in the row behind Jules, waving frantically. Garrett and Hannah were beside them, Garrett clapping while Hannah gave a thumbs up. Allie was standing and facing the crowd, trying to rally some sort of chant. Tucker was trying to get Beau off of his head and John was also standing, clapping and nodding towards you. You gave a single nod in his direction before facing the field again.

You called a fastball down and in, and the batter yanked it down the line, exactly where you shifted your outfield. Quickly, you jumped in front of the plate and a few feet up the line. Your mask was discarded into foul territory as you started yelling to align your third baseman for the cut.

“Left! Left!” You floated one step back. “Leave it!”

Your third baseman fell off as the throw came in on a perfect line. You caught it and dropped to a knee in a near perfect spot, leaving a path to the plate. The runner dove in but your knee was already down. Her shoulder hit your leg as the tag was made but her momentum swiped your leg out from under you. As you went down to your back, your other hand reached to secure the ball in your glove.

From the ground, you showed the umpire the ball and he called the out.

“Fucking bitch.” The runner muttered, kicking some dirt in your direction.

The entire crowd and your team erupted in cheers, Missa running over to haul you to your feet.

“What did she say to you?” Missa asked.

“She called me a fucking bitch.” You laughed.

Arguments came from both dugouts as you retrieved your mask. You heard ‘malicious contact’ and ‘unsportsmanlike conduct’ but you shrugged it off, not really sure which side the arguments were coming from.

“Fucking big dawg!” Dean yelled when you looked his way, then he started barking.

Beau and Garrett soon joined in on the barking, making Hannah laugh and whack her boyfriend. John was smiling as Tucker clapped him on the back.

You returned to your dugout, where your own team was waiting with celebrations of their own.

In the bottom of the fourth, you were leading off. You changed out of your gear quickly and were taking swings on deck when you heard the barking again. You closed your eyes and tried not to smile. They had no idea where it started but they were definitely quick to play along. Not long after, your dugout started joining in.

“WHO LET THE DAWG OUT!?” Missa shouted, prompting loud barks from your teammates and your friends in the crowd. “WHO LET THE DAWG OUT!?”

You walked backwards towards the batter’s box to face your dugout. They quieted in anticipation, waiting for your response. You smiled widely and barked twice before hurrying to the box.

The opposing catcher mumbled something but before you could register it, a fastball slammed your ribs. You managed to turn away so it caught the back of your ribcage but that didn’t make it hurt any less. You tossed your bat with a small curse before ditching your elbow guard.

“We eat those! We eat those!” Garrett shouted, nodding and clapping aggressively.

“Put her on the fucking hockey team, dude.” Beau laughed.

“Ow.” You mouthed to John, who offered an apologetic look in response.

“YOU KNOW WHY WE CALL HER TWOS?!” Annie yelled as you made your way down the line.

“WHY!?” Your dugout responded.

“CAUSE SHE LOVES TO BE ON TWO SO SAAAAAAVE YOOOOOUR AAAAAARM!!”

“SAVE YOUR ARM!!”

“SAAAAAAAVE YOUUUUUUUUR AAAAAAARM!!”

“SAVE YOUR ARM!!”

“You good?” Kelsey asked as you met her at first.

You twisted slightly, blinking back the tears in your eyes.

“She fucking got me good.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be alright.”

“22.” The base umpire asked. “Need time?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.” You smiled.

You looked across the field at your other coach in the third base box. He flashed you a quick series of signs that all amounted to one thing. Delayed steal on the second pitch.

You took a short lead on the first pitch, a ball outside and down.

You looked out into the crowd again as you stood back on the base. John was still standing, leaning forward on the back of Jules’ seat as they talked about something. He met your eyes and jerked his head slightly. You looked at second base then back at him. You smiled, adjusting your helmet by the face mask. That was your signal to each other, a way of telling the other ‘Watch this’ during your games. He flashed you that signal often and he always made good on his attempts. Now it was your turn.

On the second pitch, you took a slightly bigger lead. It was a strike, bottom half of the zone, and your teammate stayed in the box, kicking some of the clay around. As soon as the catcher’s arm pulled back to throw the ball to the pitcher, you ran. Ahead of you, you saw the shortstop hustling to beat you to the base but you knew you were going to be safe. You dropped into a slide around the base, twisting to avoid her sweeping glove and get your hand on the bag. As expected, you were called safe.

You faced your dugout first, doing that celebration together. You pointed over to first then circled your wrists to point at the base beneath you. Some of your teammates yelled to take third but you waved them off.

It was Missa up to bat, after all.

The next pitch was smacked into right center, a ringing double that brought you in to score and take the lead. You collected her bat as you yelled praise to her, now taking over your spot on second base, before spinning towards your friends in the crowd.

“First place, baby, let’s fucking go!” Garrett cheered.

“Way to get ahead, fuck yeah!” Dean added.

“Big dog, WOOF!” Beau shouted.

Jules was too busy recording the guys to add anything.

“Way to work, Twos!” John yelled.

You tucked Missa’s bat under your arm and held up two fingers on each hand. You flashed your twos then used both to point at John. He laughed slightly but returned the gesture, your guys’ small scoring celebration.

Your team managed to tack on another run in that inning and held the other team to zero. The fifth inning was scoreless, as was the sixth, but things shifted in the top of the seventh. Missa hit a batter, the one who had called you a bitch prior, and then a well placed bunt got a second runner on. Strikeout, strikeout, then a no doubt three run homerun to left field. Missa came right back with another strikeout, an embarrassing one if you were being honest.

“Everybody on me, come on.” You called your team together. “We have three outs to get at least one run. We can beat them, right now. You guys want that?”

A small chorus of yes came from around the circle.

“I said do you want that!” You urged.

“YES!”

“Let’s fucking do it, then. We have Alysia, Kam, Nicki, then me and Missa. Sounds like hits to me. Get it back and more, let’s go.”

Alysia did her job and got on base. Kam moved her over, but was the first out. Nicki hit a single to put a runner on first and second for when you came up to bat.

Various chants came from your personal cheering section.

The first pitch came up and in, making you spin away and nearly took you off your feet.

That caused a stir among your friends and dugout.

You simply laughed as you stepped back in the box. Next pitch was a ball, down and in. It nearly got your back foot but you stepped out of the way just in time.

“Starting to feel a little personal.” You mumbled, rolling your bat in your hands.

The third pitch you saw was your money pitch, middle height but the outside half of the plate. You connected with the sweet spot of your barrel, sending a rocket down the first base line. The crowd erupted as the ball was called fair.

Alysia scored, Nicki was rounding third, and you were in at second. You wanted to make it a triple but Nicki was too damn slow. The throw was cut off and Nick got back-picked at three. You called for time to remove your elbow guard as you stood on second again.

When it was granted you took off the guard and met Kelsey halfway to leave it with her. As you went back to two, you pulled your helmet off to fix your headband. You also took a second to do your celebration.

You pointed your helmet to the dugout and then drew the other arm back like an archer drawing a bow. Habitually, you looked over to John in the crowd as you replaced your helmet. When he caught your eyes, he did a smaller version of the same celebration.

His celly, you realized when you saw him do the familiar movement. Your double celly was his goal celly.

Well shit.

Two outs, tie game, bottom of the seventh. You could practically hear how Jules would be narrating it. They’d probably be zoomed in on you, talking about how physical the game was for you that day. Or they’d be locked on Missa and how big of a moment that was for her.

First pitch was in the dirt, but blocked well, keeping you in place. Next pitch was fouled straight back and judging by Missa’s reaction, it was one she didn’t want to miss. Third pitch was a called strike, top half of the zone that Missa didn’t agree with. The next pitch, however, was interesting.

It was ruled an illegal pitch, claiming her hands came together after her motion was started, and you advanced to third. When you reached Coach, you had to laugh.

“Y/L/N represents the winning run, just 60 feet away.” You mimicked a commentator’s voice. “What will Coach Tim do?”

He leaned in and turned towards the outfield grass as he spoke to you. “That ball gets by her, you score. Don’t hesitate. Don’t think. Just fucking score.”

You nodded once and focused on the next pitch.

Foul ball. Foul ball. Foul ball. Ball inside. Foul ball. Then it was your chance.

A ball in the dirt kicked away towards your dugout. You broke for the plate immediately, Missa jumping out of the way and yelling for you to slide. You listened and went head first for the plate. Why you went head first, you didn’t know. Usually, you hooked or slid straight into the bag. In truth, the dive knocked some of the wind out and the pitcher who came in to cover the plate stepped on your arm, but you were safe.

You had just won the game for Briar.

As you were celebrating with Missa, the other team asked to challenge. While the umpires reviewed the play, you and Missa leaned against the fencing. Coach came down the line to stand with you two, but you were listening to your friends.

Jules was giving the usual commentary, and you had to commend the knowledge of the game. You assumed Jules only knew hockey.

Garrett was explaining to Hannah and Allie what was going on. Dean was yelling that there was no review, just call it safe and move on. Beau was yelling to stick to the call. Tucker said nothing, but John’s voice sounded closer than it had before.

“Did she tag you?” He asked.

“Never touched me.” You answered without looking at him. “ Stepped on me but…”

You glanced down at your arm and saw the red marks from her cleats on your skin.

“After reviewing the play, the call is confirmed. The runner is safe and the run will score. Ball game.” The umpire announced.

After cleaning up and changing, you and Missa left the locker room together.

“So…” She trailed off. “You and John Logan are back together.”

“No, we’re not.” You laughed.

“That’s not what Fifth Line has to say.” She replied smugly, tilting her phone in your direction. She showed you a post on the account, a video of your double celebration with the caption ‘birds of a feather’.

“Okay.” You pushed her phone away. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Y/N, you did his celebration.” She insisted.

“It’s the same one I did when I threw that runner out.” You reasoned.

“No, the leg was different.”

“The leg?”

“Yes, the leg. Logan does it off one leg, just like you did for your double.”

“I was in stride!”

“When you throw someone out, you do it from your knees and swipe your glove in the dirt. Plus he was cheering for you the whole game.”

“They were cheering for all of us.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. “But they’re not waiting for all of us, are they?”

“No one’s waiting.” You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N!” Tucker yelled and you saw your friend group a few feet away. When they saw you looking, they waved you over.

“Case and point.” Missa sighed contently. “Go get your man, Twos.”

“It’s not gonna be any-“

“Before you get on your soap box.” She cut in. “I talked with Coach. He’s on you too much, more than he has been on any other captain, including me. I told him he had to treat us the same, that he’s only doing it to you cause you were a walk-on and he’s just mad he didn’t recruit you himself.”

“Missa!”

“It’s true.” She defended. “Anyways, he’s gonna pull back on the responsibilities he throws on you. Your schedule’s gonna lighten a little. You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t need you to do that.”

“I know but you’re my co-captain. I’ve got your back, same as you’ve got mine. Now go, be happy. You’ve been shit since you guys broke up anyways.”

“Okay, rude.” You laughed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Love you, ice those bruises. I’ll see you later.”

You two split and you made your way to your friends. On your approach, Dean and Garrett immediately began barking.

“Big dawg!” Beau announced.

“Why does your team bark at you?” Hannah asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, where did that come from?” John added.

“I got it from my dad. He calls the boys he coaches big dogs or tells them to be a dog. I brought it over here by accident and it just kinda stuck.” You explained.

“I like it.” Allie said.

“You do?” Your brows raised. “Out of all of them, you?”

“It’s fun!”

“You did good today, Y/L/N.” Tucker said, reaching around John to pat your shoulder.

“Thanks.” You smiled.

“Kinda got the shit kicked outta you though.” Garrett commented, which got him elbowed in the ribs by Hannah.

“Yeah.” You laughed, rubbing your ribs. “After that first play at the plate, I had a feeling I’d be a target.”

“Hey, it was a fair play!” Jules defended. “Y/N left a path to plate, even when she had the ball.”

“Respectfully, Jules, how do you know softball?” You laughed a little. You winced slightly, the pain from that fastball to the ribs now kicking in. “I figured with Johnnyboy, you only knew hockey.”

“It was surprisingly easy to pick up, actually. Mr. Lonely over there was obsessing over it when you two got together so he made me learn it, too.”

“Lonely.” Dean sang, throwing an arm over John’s shoulders. You took a step back and tried not to smile. “I’m Mr. Lonely. I have nobody…”

You couldn’t avoid it and laughed, ducking behind Hannah to try and regain your composure.

“Laugh all you want, Y/N.” Garrett added. “That song was all Logan played after you two split.”

“Alright, fuck you guys.” John defended. You managed to stop laughing but the smile still threatened. “It’s a good song.” He shrugged.

“Right, right.” You nodded. “Just weird timing.”

“Exactly! See? She gets it.”

“She always ‘gets it’ with you.” Allie teased.

“Hey, are we gonna stand around here giving Logan shit all night or are we going to celebrate a first place win the right way?” Beau asked.

“I definitely need to shower and change first.” You shook your head. “I’m covered in dirt and I’m fairly certain I swallowed some.”

“Yeah, that dive wasn’t your cleanest.” Tucker nodded, almost regretfully.

“Fuck off, like you could do better.” You defended.

“It’s just like a slip and slide.”

“If you go home, Y/L/N, you’re not coming back out.” Garrett countered before you could continue to argue with Tucker. “I know you. You’re gonna lay on your floor and not get back up.”

“That’s not…” You tried to argue but then realized he was right. You did nap on your floor after games often. “Okay, fair point… Can I least go get clothes to change? Hannah can come with me if you guys don’t trust me.”

“I’ve got an extra shirt in the truck if you want.” John offered. “Just to save you some time…”

You took a moment before answering, thinking about what Missa had said before leaving. Go get your man, Twos.

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” You sighed. “I didn’t drive anyways so I was gonna have to bum a ride with someone regardless.”

“Don’t you just love it when things work out?” Jules smiled, guiding you forward with both hands on your shoulders.

“Yeah, funny how that happens, huh?” You gave a pointed look.

The next thing you knew, you and your friends were at Malone’s. Your warm-up shirt was left in John’s truck, leaving you in his t-shirt instead. It was plain, a bit too big for you, but it had the faint smell of his cologne still. It made your heart thump hard in your chest.

You started to think that if you didn’t at least ask about getting back together, your heart would break out of your ribs and wander off.

“Hey.” John nudged you out of your thoughts. You snapped your head up, having zoned out staring at the dirty Shirley Temple in your hands. When you looked over at him, he chuckled slightly. “You still with us? Or did you hit your head today, too?”

“The way today went, I very well could have.” You laughed. “No, I’m fine, just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded, looking down at the table. Your free hand was tapping slightly against the surface as you considered what to say. Should you tell him the truth? Could you make it through the night if you didn’t? Could you take the rejection if you did? Before you could form a conclusive thought, John’s hand was under your chin to gently lift your attention back to him.

“What about?”

Dear God were you still in love with him.

“You.” You confessed.

“I’m gonna assume that’s a good thing.”

“Can we talk somewhere away from tweedle dee, tweedle dum, and TMZ?” You jerked your head towards Dean and Garrett’s conversation, along with Jules.

John offered you his hand as he scooted out of the booth. You accepted, quickly swallowing the last of your drink, and followed his lead. He took you to the other side of Malone’s, to a quieter booth near the corner. He didn’t sit, just stood in a way that blocked everyone else out. Like he could be some sort of shield and keep you safe.

“What’s going on?” He asked lowly, crossing his arms.

“Look at my life.” You gestured vaguely. “I bet you can’t tell but it’s actually a pretty bad time.”

“No, trust me. I could tell.” He nodded.

“I got what I wanted, softball captain, Starting lineup every game, great grades, great friends… But it doesn’t sit right. Something’s been off until today… Today, I realized something.” You began. “This season, I’ve been shit. My teammates have been picking up my slack and making up for my mistakes but I haven’t been playing like a captain should.”

“Everyone goes through slumps, Y/N. That doesn’t change who you are as a player.”

“Yeah, but this wasn’t just a slump. This has been routine balls being flubbed, embarrassing strikeouts, base running mistakes that kids in Little League don’t even make.”

“I didn’t see any of that today.”

“Exactly.” You nodded, reaching forward to put your hands on his arm. “You. John, I haven’t felt comfortable in my jersey all year, but then you show up today and it’s like… It’s like the game makes sense again.”

“Has nothing to do with me.” He shook his head slightly. “That’s you getting your confidence back. Y/N, that light in your eyes? I don’t remember the last time I saw it. You were alive out there.”

“Can’t I just say that I missed you and I missed seeing you in the stands without you trying to be all sweet and motivational?” You laughed a little and he smiled.

He smiled that stupid smile that made your knees weak, that made you want to kiss his stupid face.

“Everything felt right for the first time in a long time, Johnnyboy.” You said softly. “Even the stupid fucking cellys.”

“I did notice you stole mine.” He joked.

“I figured we share jersey numbers, we can share cellys.”

“I really thought you were gonna push Tim to let you get your old number back.”

“After the fit I threw to get him to change it in general, there was no way I was gonna be able to wear 13 even if I asked.”

“You didn’t?”

“No…”

He chuckled slightly in disbelief before cocking his head slightly. “Why?”

“Can we try again?” You asked suddenly. There were no other thoughts in your head than a blaring siren of “BOYFRIEND!!” as you looked at him. “One more chance.”

“I thought you were too busy.” He countered and it felt like your heart fell to your feet. Your expression must’ve done something similar because John’s hands were suddenly on your cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I am busy and so are you but… But I want to make it work if that’s still what you want.”

           The whole conversation had lasted barely ten seconds, and she was already in a horrible mood. And it didn’t improve with the next passing ones. Not as she snapped open her winter coat, not as she violently spun her code, not as she pulled open the narrow metal door, not as she shoved her bag and outerwear inside, and definitely, not as Robby moved from his own locker to lean on his shoulder beside her.

           “Actually, very specifically, with this. I’m your boss when it concerns your shifts, whether or not I think you’re pushing yourself too close to a burnout, with making sure my team is healthy and rested. Which is why, as your boss, I told you to take the Christmas week off. I have no use of you here, exhausted and making mistakes.”

           “That’s rich coming from you, Dr. Hypocritical. You should do as you say, not just read me morale. Maybe you should take Christmas off, hmm?”

           She glanced around the locker door, Robby’s face straight. “I’m Jewish.”

           “Happy Yule?”

           “Hanukkah. And it’s already done. And you’re off shift.”

           “Whatever. I told you, I wanted to work.” Y/N huffed, ignoring him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just because you don’t know how to listen to a woman when she’s expressing her wants, is not my problem. I’m working a double today, by the way, so change the fucking schedule.”

           Gently, he took the top of the locker and closed it halfway, so she could do nothing but face him. “Spike, you’ve barely had one day off in between four rounds of six days on. You need a break.”

           “And I will take one,” Y/N bit out. “But not right now. After the New Year, maybe. Give me seven off starting January 2nd, if it’s so pressing to you.”

           Spike, she scoffed. She may not have had a second name, but the nickname sure had stuck ever since her first year as a med student. But it was unfortunately fitting, if this interaction was taken as an example. Besides, not everyone had the guts to talk to their chief attending in such a manner, and when Jack Abbot entered the fray, she couldn’t stop the remark of “Oh great. Tweedle Dum is also here” from slipping past her lips.

           The night shift attending frowned, pointing at her but looking at Robby. “What’s she doing here?”

           “Pointing’s rude.” Y/N gave him a glare. “Did mom never teach you?”

           “My mom’s dead.”

           “Yeah, probably because you pointed her to death.”

           “Okay, so who the fuck pissed in your cornflakes this morning?” Abbot let out a surprised chuckle.

           “Two old white men, who can’t stop putting their noses into things that don’t concern them.”

           “Alright,” Robby pushed away from the lockers, probably done with her shitty attitude this early in the morning, but mercifully, Ellis entering the room that exact moment gave Y/N the perfect opportunity to escape into the fray of the Pitt, Shen pulling her in for an incoming trauma.

           Blessed be the Christmas craze, though, as there was so much going on, nobody, but especially Robby, had a chance to pull her away and scold her about overworking herself. Not when an MVC came in, not when half the nursing staff were down with the flu, not when Robby needed literally every single hand on deck to manage the department.

           By the time she could slip away for a few minutes to enjoy her poor excuse of a lunch, Y/N had discharged two women who’d picked a fight in a perfume store, shattering bottles and getting fragments of glass embedded into their skins. She was sure she could taste the rank scent of Chanel No 5 in her Cup Noodle ramen. A migraine was already on its way, and a scrub change would not help with this.

           “Care for some company?”

           Y/N lifted her eyes from the yellow broth, if you could call it that, and looked at Robby, who was hovering by the entrance while she was sitting against the wall, a sandwich protectively held in his grip. “Not from you, no.”

           “Tough luck.” The bastard shrugged. “'Cause you’re getting it.”

           Huffing, she gave him her most scalding glare, but still shifted closer to lean her back against the lockers, so Robby had space to slide down and sit as comfortably on the floor as one could.

           For a while, they just sat and ate their respective lunches in silence, but she could feel Robby eyeing her from the side the whole time. After thoroughly chewing and swallowing, he said, “Is that one of those Bu-budlak ramens?”

           “You mean Buldak?” She raised a brow.

           “The one where we had the kid come in for an ulcer two weeks ago.”

           Despite her pissy mood, she snorted and shook her head. “Uh, no. These are just plain old cornerstone ramen. Buldak actually deserves some finessing and class.”

           “Isn’t that shit insanely spicy though?”

           “It’s fine. And I only indulge in it from time to time.” Y/N tipped back the plastic cup and scraped the last bits of the broken ramen into her mouth with the spoon she’d stolen from the breakroom and stashed in her locker. It was her favorite spoon, and she’d be damned if someone else took it. “It can actually be delicious. At least I think so. But I also add things on, like a boiled egg or some actual cheese, not just the powder and spice paste. Besides, that kid dumped five of the hot sauce packets as a dare. I think people who do eat it every day would get an ulcer from such an amount.”

           “Teenagers,” Robby snorted at the same time as Y/N rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Will do anything to impress a cute girl. Even if it lands them in the ED.”

           “Sorry to disappoint, but from personal and a lot of professional experience, you men don’t grow out of it.”

           “I dunno,” Robby shrugged. “I’d like to think I’m not the same idiot as I was when I was fifteen.”

           “You sure?” She gave him an appraising glance. “Is that why you were driving your motorcycle without a helmet during summer? No, right. That was just general dumbassery.”

           He sucked on his teeth and crumpled up the plastic wrap of the long-gone sandwich and nudged her foot with his own. “Touché, sweetheart. Touché.”

           It’d been a dark period in Robby’s life, which they were lucky enough to joke about nowadays, but as someone who cared, it’d been hard to watch him go through it. They hadn’t had this open camaraderie since the beginning. Oh no. Y/N and Robby had been like oil and water, volatile and never mixing.

           She’d been a ‘cowboy’, and he’d been a hypocritical dick, taking favorites with the male students, rather than the more capable women, even if it wasn’t so overtly obvious. And she hadn’t been afraid to call him out on it. She didn’t expect coddling or him being softer around her because she was a woman, but she did expect fairness, and Robby was anything but towards his female med students and residents. How he’d dismissed Samira’s concern with the mercury case, how he’d not listened to when Santos had her suspicions about Frank, how he’d dismissed McKay’s gut instinct of the boy who had an ominous list of girls’ names, only for it all come back and bite him in the ass. Hard.

           That whole day had been one disaster after another, culminating in a breakdown in pedes for Robby. And despite how he’d pissed her off, Y/N hadn’t hesitated to crouch down before him when she found him rocking back and forth, clutching his Star of David and muttering what seemed to be a prayer in a language she didn’t understand, the words growing in intensity and desperation the more he talked.

           “Robby, look at me.” She kneeled before him, gently touching his wrist.

           He just shook his head, eyes squeezed shut as if that was how he could turn the world off. If he didn’t see it, it didn’t exist. “I couldn’t save her.”

           “You couldn’t save her, because she was already dead.” It might’ve sounded way too blunt and harsh for that moment, but it was the truth. “You’re not a miracle worker, Robby. You’re not a god or a wizard with some scroll to bring back those who are gone. This wasn’t a code that could be managed with some chest compressions or adrenaline. This was a bullet. To the heart. If she’d come in with the first wave of trauma, maybe then, but only maybe, we could’ve done something. Her death is not on you.”

           “No, it is,” he gasped through tears and hiccups. “Jake’s right, it’s my fault Leah’s dead.”

           That sent another round of sobs cracking through him, but Y/N didn’t relent. She didn’t go away, she didn’t press. She was just there, grounding Robby with her touch and presence. “Leah’s dead because a sick bastard decided to hurt people. She’s gone not because you didn’t do something, but because of the shooter… and I know it hurts, and it will hurt for a long ass time, but you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re all here. And we need you.”

           “I can’t go out there.” He shook his head, the heels of his palms digging against his eyes.

           “I know. And you shouldn’t have to. I wish you didn’t have to.”

           For a moment, silence settled between them, but then Robby nodded, taking Y/N’s arm for balance as he slowly started to rise from where he’d curled himself as small as he possibly could, trying to hide from the pain and the universe.

           As he went to push her away, she grabbed onto his wrist and pulled it tight against the middle of her chest. Where her heart beat.  His red-rimmed eyes snapped to hers. “We don’t forget the ones we lose. Ever. They stay with us in here. And we continue living because there needs to be someone out here that remembers them.”

           That was the moment their relationship shifted, a sort of understanding and respect growing. It went from barbs to good-natured snarking. From annoyed eye rolls and tutting to huffs of laughter and light shakes of head. And for a while, it seemed fine. They went on, Y/N moved up in her residency, until Robby came in for his last shift before sabbatical.

Since that very morning, something kept nagging at Y/N. Something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. It was like her sixth sense was screaming and throwing up every red flag it could, but without actually saying what the fuck was wrong. At first, she thought it was simply because the 4th of July brought out every possible idiot, as unfortunately, most holidays did, but when Robby entered, things clicked in place. Especially after realizing he’d been the fucking brain-damaged idiot driving by the entrance of the Pitt on a motorcycle without a helmet.

           Through the whole shift, she observed their chief attending with a hawk’s gaze, but it wasn’t until he pulled her to the side and placed something in her open palm.

           It was a pen. Sleek with the monogram of PTMC engraved on the side.

           It was his pen.

           The one he never gave anyone, even Dana, because it would sure as hell get stolen by someone, and good luck getting it back in an ED.

           “Keep it.” He’d given her a tight smile when she tried to return it after signing the discharge papers in her hands. “To remember me by while I’m gone.”

           Y/N hadn’t been able to stomach any food, nor could she slug down the coffee Lupe had practically shoved into her hand during a passing moment. Because she couldn’t afford to miss when Robby left. She had to be faster than him.

           Luckily, the whole ordeal of the systems shutting down and the hospital needing to go analog, was more a headache for the higher ups, including Robby as the chief attending, than residents, so by the time they were able to hand everything to the nightshift, she was out the door, backpack high on her shoulder, and practically sprinting across the parking lot.

           Robby emerged twenty minutes later, no doubt after saying goodbye to Jack and Dana and everyone else that looked up to him, while Y/N sat on his motorcycle as if it was hers.

That made him stop dead in his tracks, the helmet strapped to his bag, not in his hand as if he’d be putting it on his head, hitting his hip with a dull thud.

           “What are you doing, kid?”

           “I dunno.” She swung her legs back and forth on both sides of the bike. “What are you doing, old man?”

           Robby hung his head, shaking it as he made his way to where he’d left his motorcycle. He nudged his head to the ED entrance. “There’s cake inside. Dana insisted, given how this is my last shift. You should go grab some before Shen takes the rest. He and his sweet tooth won’t spare you just because you’re friends.”

           Y/N hummed. “I’ll pass.”

           His brows rose. It was a known thing that she was pretty much addicted to sugar. “Care to tell me why?”

           “Because I have this gut feeling I know what you’re planning on doing. I’ve had it screaming at me the whole fucking day.” Robby visibly stiffened at her words, snapping his face away so she couldn’t see him sucking on his teeth. “And I didn’t see it the first time. So, now that I do, you bet your ass I’m not gonna let it go without doing something at least.”

           “Kid…”

           “Nope.” Y/N shook her head. “You can lie to me all you want, and you’ve probably fooled a lot of people in that hospital, your friends even. But you haven’t fooled me, so… Would you be up for a little meeting?”

           “I’m tired.” He hung his head. “I just wanna go home.”

           “Sucks to be you then, cause I wanna go on a little road trip. Just twenty minutes. Not too far.”

           For a couple of minutes, they just stared at one another, Robby’s gaze resigned and worn and devoid of any hope, Y/N’s determined like a lioness on a hunt, until he gave a small dip of his chin, and she scooted backwards so he could slide into the driver’s position.

           Nimble fingers took his backpack and unclipped the helmet, her hand weaving around his side to present it to him. “Not gonna happen if you don’t wear it.”

           Robby hung his head. “I’d rather you put it on.”

           She patted his ribs. “You’re not calling the shots right now. Helmet. Now. Or I go inside and tell on you to Dana.”

           He knew it was futile to argue with her. Once she set her mind on something, it took a lot to bring her back, so reluctantly, Robby obeyed, but not without grumbling about her own naked head.

           With soft touches and gestures of her hand, she allowed him to drive them until she patted trice on his thigh, signaling they were at the destination.

A large plain of grass scattered with headstones stretched on their right as Y/N hopped from behind him, and Robby turned off the bike.

           “Why are we here?” he sighed out, hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he followed her across the cemetery.

           “I want you to meet Amy.” Y/N nodded her head towards one of the headstones. Robby’s brows lifted and his gaze softened, as she looked over her shoulder. “She’s my best friend.”

           They walked the rest of the way in silence. They stood silent as she dug out a blanket from her backpack, they stood silent as she laid it out before the headstone, they remained silent as she got a couple of candles out, one given to Robby without even a glance.

           Reluctantly, he took it, his fingers brushing along hers for a little longer than would befit a professional relationship, but he didn’t take off metal top of it. It was Y/N who spoke up, breaking the tension, as they settled on the plaid blanket.

           “I can’t pretend I’ll ever understand what such a long time, what witnessing so many deaths does to a person. I think our medical system is fucked. I think it would take like two hundred years to make any meaningful change…” She looked at the ground where she’d planted forget-me-nots for Amy just a couple of weeks prior.

“We keep taking care of others, but who takes care of us? Who helps us with the burnout? With the pain and grief? Don’t we deserve a bit of grace and comfort, too? People think those we lose are just another statistic, just another person that didn’t make it, and we file them away in little manila folders. Like it doesn’t rip a piece of our hearts out each time we can’t get them back from a flatline.”

And when their eyes met, she didn’t dare let him drop the gaze. “Who helps us not step over that final edge when it’s just gotten too much?”

           Tears slid down Robby’s cheeks as he let out a shaky laugh, pain as clear as the dark sky above them, written even in the smile lines around his eyes. For a moment, he said nothing, just bit and pinched his lips until roughly he asked, “What gave me away?”

           “Your pen.”

           “My pen?”

           “Mhm,” Y/N confirmed, playing with the matchbox she’d produced from her pocket. “The day before Amy… passed, she gave me her iPod. She told me it was because she was tired of me stealing it to connect it to the speaker during our sleepovers. Said her parents had gifted her a new one for her birthday. I thought it was odd, cause her birthday was in May, but it was already July, and I hadn’t seen her use the new one. She said she’d shattered the screen recently, so it was at a repair shop.”

           She huffed, trying to blink away the burning sensation in her eyes, and sniffled. “I didn’t call her out on it. Just… shrugged it off. I’d known she was doing badly for a while; her parents even made her see a therapist, and she’d told me about some of the sessions. She wasn’t the same girl I’d met in primary school, but she always put on a smile around me, so I didn’t think too much. Teenage angst and rebellion and whatnot. But that final day… fuck, it felt like my old best friend was finally back. We’d just sent off our university applications, and she was just so supportive of me and my med school aspirations, so happy… she looked so happy. Relieved… I didn’t know she hadn’t applied…” The grey stone with Amy’s name stared back at her. “I wish I’d talked to her on the phone a bit longer that day. I wish I’d hugged her tighter. That I’d invited her to stay over at mine for the night like we used to do.”

           “I don’t think she was weak.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse as she spoke. “I don’t think she took the easy way out. But I don’t think she thought about the hearts she’d break with her decision. I know hers was hurting… and I missed so many signs, and those are my mistakes to bear, but she was also wrong. It took me ages to finally get to a point where I didn’t blame her, or myself, or everyone else around me. Not blaming myself was the hardest, though, because maybe I could’ve been a better friend. Maybe I could’ve been just a better person, and I could’ve helped… so, fuck me with a fork, if I see the signs I didn’t recognize before, and do nothing about it.”

           It was such a her thing to do, to make a crude and sarcastic remark to try and alleviate a tense situation, Robby seemingly couldn’t help but laugh even as he was steadily crying.

           “When did she pass?” She could hear the tears in his voice.

           Y/N looked at the headstone, and that’s when she saw Robby glance as well, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks, judging by his reaction. “July 4th. Today’s the ninth anniversary.”

           “I’m so sorry.”

           She gave him a small smile. “You’re not at fault here, Robby. And I know I’m not either. I’ve had years of therapy to process all that happened, besides… I’ve been there too.” She lifted her shoulders and tilted her head to the side, sighing. “I can’t pretend I know the pain and hurt you carry. It’s different for each of us. But I also know I can’t lose someone else. Not like this. Not without at least trying. I don’t expect I’ve magically cured what is very clearly clinical depression with a single fucking conversation, and I’m definitely not qualified to be a therapist. It’s a miracle in and of itself my bedside manner is spectacular.” That elicited a wet laugh from both of them. She was Spike, after all. “But I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve seen it.”

           Robby dragged a hand down his face, staring at Amy’s headstone, cheeks tear-streaked and shining. “And what if there’s a cave-in? What if there’s a block there so hard and heavy I can’t lift it?”

           Slowly, she inched her hand towards him and took his palm. “Then that’s when your friends come in with pickaxes and help you. As long as you shine a guiding light where we need to meet you at.”

           It was like those words broke some dam as Robby let out a gut-wrenching sob so hard it broke Y/N’s soul. It was natural, almost instinctual, how he leaned his head against her chest and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body as close as possible. She was pretty much straddling him, but she didn’t care, as her legs weaved around his hips, pressing them tight in reassurance.

           In that moment, it didn’t matter that he was her attending and twice her age. It didn’t matter HR would have a field day if someone from the hospital caught them in that position. Because in that moment, Robby was letting go of what seemed like years’ worth of heartache, of pain and torment and hurt he’d gathered and tried to shove in some deep, dark corner.

           Y/N held him through it all. As his sobs turned to brutal hiccups, as his tears drenched the scrubs she was wearing, as he held onto her like she was his last lifeline. It was a terrifying realization that maybe she was. Maybe this conversation, maybe her insistence on not letting him drive home, had been the only reason Robby hadn’t already taken that step he couldn’t come back from.

           Five minutes turned to ten, then to fifteen, and twenty had passed before Robby finally seemed ready to pull back. But not away. He didn’t pull away, and that was a start.

           “I come here for a picnic every month,” Y/N whispered, allowing him to rest his forehead against her temple, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “But I always come on this date as well. Seems shitty to miss it. And I tell Amy about all the shit that happens at the hospital. I’ve told her every single thing about you, and how much I hated you at the beginning. What a jackass you were, reaming me for things Whitaker also did, but you let it slide with him, fucking boy’s club and all that.” Robby let out a laugh that was more of a sob. “I told her about Pittfest, and how I was just about to jump Gloria when I heard she wanted to have you speak for the cameras. I just… talk to her. She can’t respond, but it’s easier. In here after I talk.” Y/N tapped against her chest. “And if you’d like, you can talk to me. Or come see Amy. Preferably, you’d also see a licensed therapist that specializes in healthcare practitioners, but if you need to start somewhere… just know we’re here for you. I am here for you.”

           “You shouldn’t have to take this burden.”

           “It’s not a burden to care,” she protested, running her fingers along the nape of his neck. “We walk through fire for people we don’t know. I don’t mind getting a bit singed for those I love.”

           Robby’s breath hitched against where it brushed her neck, but he didn’t move. And neither did she. He didn’t ask how she meant those words, and Y/N didn’t explain. It wasn’t the right moment. Not when he was so raw and open, and still possibly teetering on the edge of a cliff.

           After a moment, his hand shifted to his hoodie, and she slid half off of his lap, creating a bit of distance, but not detaching fully. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and exhaled before taking and twisting her wrist so she had a palm up. He took her hand and squeezed it, hard, but she couldn’t really feel his skin over the metal and plastic digging into her hand. When he let go, and she opened it, his motorcycle keys stared back at her. For a second, cold terror rushed through her, but when she looked up, there was a slightly different light in his eyes. A light that hadn’t been there the whole day. Like he was ready to change something. Like he was ready for help.

           Y/N pressed her lips together and nodded, holding tight onto the keys before softly grimacing.

           “What?” Robby tilted his head to the side, no doubt trying to figure out what the pinched expression meant.

            “Would you mind too much if I gave these to Dr Abbot?” She winced at her words. “Until you come back from sabbatical and decide what to do with it?”

           “I trust you with it. You also seemed to kinda enjoy it back there. Wouldn’t mind it if you took it for a spin. With the helmet, of course.”

           “Oh, it’s not that.” She wasn’t gonna call out how the redness spreading up his neck didn’t seem to be from the breakdown as he glanced her over. Nor was she gonna mention how much she’d enjoyed holding onto Robby’s body as they traveled down the Pittsburgh roads, wind whipping through her hair and caressing her face.

           “Then can I ask what is it?”

           “It’s humiliating.”

           “You just held me for twenty minutes as I sobbed all over your shoulder. I’m your attending. I think I’m the humiliated one here, so believe me, whatever it is, it can't be worse than that.”

           She bit down on her lower lip and winced once more. “I don’t have my license.”

           “What?” The single word was so deadpan that it made her roll her eyes.

           “Yes, I know, I’m twenty-seven years old, and I don’t have a fucking driver’s license. Sue me.” Y/N allowed herself the chuckle that escaped, especially as Robby laughed too. It seemed the sound was coming easier now, not the fake push she’d heard throughout the day. “I don’t have a parking space for it, so if it’s alright with you, I’ll hand these off to Jack when I go in for my next shift.”

           “Of course,” his words were soft. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the logistics for you.”

           “Nothing to apologize for.” She gave him an encouraging smile before lifting the candle. “Would you care to light one for Amy?”

           Robby swallowed hard, but when the tears came, he didn’t brush them away. He allowed himself, for the first time in ages, to feel the pain. To let it course through and shift his DNA. Y/N watched him process it all before he nodded. “I’d like that.”

           She tried to do it with a single match, but this July 4th was proving to be very fucking windy, and two went out before she could even put them to the wick. “Bitchass little wooden sticks,” she grumbled, and her heart warmed hearing Robby huff a laugh.

           “I would’ve missed this,” he admitted when the wick to his candle was cradled by a flame, placing the metal cap on and putting it by Amy’s headstone.

           Y/N turned to where her friend lay below ground. “Hear that? Robina-bitch says he’d miss me.”

           Unbidden laughter broke from the man as her candle finally joined the one already alit on the grass.

           They took their moment to revel in the present, in their camaraderie and promises, until she let out a small “oh,” and started digging through her backpack again, but not before putting the motorcycle keys in a pocket. At that moment, it was purely symbolic because they’d have to get back home, and Robby was the only one of them who knew how to drive, but she’d keep them until the very last second.

           “What are you doing?”

           “Amy really loved crows and ravens and just all corvids and stuff. When I finally felt like I wouldn’t break her headstone in rage about two months after the funeral, I came to visit and saw this murder sitting in the trees.” Y/N opened a Tupperware box and took out three eggs, laying them neatly on the grass. “I read somewhere that they really like eggs, so I started bringing some during my visits. I’ve pretty much domesticated that flock. Besides, they remember faces, so I kinda feel like a witch knowing they’d recognise me. And they keep Amy company while they eat. Makes me feel like she’s not so alone. I’ll just leave them here for the morning when they come for breakfast.” She turned to look at him. “And you? Will you have breakfast with me?”

           When Robby nodded, choking on the small “yeah” he let out, Y/N could release the breath she’d been holding in her chest.

His head leaned against her shoulder, and she let him, her hand taking his and intertwining their fingers, gripping it as tight as he was gripping hers. Like he was terrified she’d disappear, and she’d do everything in her power to let him know she wouldn’t.

           Fuck professionalism, she thought to herself as she buried her nose in his hair, pressing a quick kiss to the top of it. “You’re not alone.”

           Fireworks passed over their heads unnoticed. Because he needed her present, and she’d be there if he let her. There’d be the next 4th of July for them to enjoy.

           After an hour, Robby seemed to be ready enough to go home. This time, when he put the helmet on her head, she didn’t protest. “Tit for tat.”

           “Only for this ride,” she grumbled when he clicked it in place under her chin. “If you end up keeping this organ-donor-making-machine, I expect there to be two helmets.”

           “You got it, Spike.”

           Y/N didn’t allow herself to imagine what the little glance towards her lips meant. Not the time or the place. Not right now, but maybe someday, a traitorous little voice corrected, but she pushed it so far down in the depths of her mind an archeologist would have a hard time finding it.

           He twisted forward, and she wound her arms across his stomach, holding onto him like an anchor. When he tried to turn down the street that’d take her to her apartment, she shook her head, motioning with her hand for him to continue straight towards his own complex.

           “I wanna make sure you get home alright,” she said as they idled by the red light.

           To her relief, Robby didn’t protest, just switched off the turn signal.

           When they disembarked, he helped Y/N open the compartment under the seat and put the helmet inside, the keys once again being slid into her hand, but he didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers wrapped around hers, and his thumb rubbed across the top of her hand.

           “Would you…” He cleared his throat, not daring to look at her. “Would you come up with me?” After a prolonged moment of silence, he added, “I don’t want to be alone.”

           “Of course,” seemed like the only response she could ever give. “I’ll stay however long you want me to.”

           She didn’t comment on the overtly clean apartment when they entered, and Robby switched on the lights. Or the boxes filled with stuff. Or the empty fridge and freezer that’d been unplugged, coffee grounds poured in bowls and left inside to soak up the smells. Y/N simply opened UberEats on her phone and ordered for both of them from the Indian place down the block as she shooed him off to the shower to wash the day off. His hand squeezed her fingers in question, and she responded in kind, promising to still be here when he emerged.

She was as loud as she could be, so he could hear her rattling around his place as she found the kettle in one box and two mugs and some plates in another. By the time Robby came back from his shower, the food had arrived, and she’d laid it out like a feast on the kitchen island, two steaming teas in between them.

           “I got dibs on the chicken tikka masala,” she said through a bite of cheese naan as she arranged a plate for Robby and some utensils.

Normal. Not dragging attention to anything. She treated him like it was simply an evening between friends. The hard talks would come later. When Y/N glanced up at him, a soft kind of look was on his face. Almost relieved. As if he hadn’t believed she’d stay after he’d disappeared inside the bathroom.

She nudged her chin towards him and the food. “Dig in before it gets cold.”

           His healing took time. There were good days and bad. There were moments where he said he felt like he’d taken ten steps back after taking five forwards. And Y/N was there for it all.

           She didn’t outright tell anyone about what happened after the shift on the 4th of July. Or their talk and confessions. She didn’t say a peep to Dana or Jack, but she didn’t need to. Not as she stopped Jack during a handoff a week later and gave him Robby’s motorcycle keys. “For safekeeping,” she’d said, and he just nodded, pulling her in such a tight hug, it took her breath away. When Y/N glanced at the charge nurse, she appeared to swallow a lump in her throat, giving a curt nod. Nobody said anything when they saw her wiping her bottom lashes.

           She didn’t say how that first night, when things were as fragile as cracked glass, sometime around two or three in the morning, she’d been awoken by an arm dragging her backwards to a solid chest. How before, when she’d moved towards his guest bedroom, he’d asked if she’d stay with him and hold him through the night.

           “Robby?” Y/N mumbled, brows furrowing as she twisted to face him, shoulder popping with the motion. “What’s wrong?”

           Tears streaked down his face, and even in the pitch black, she could see the fear, the pain; his chest stuttering. “I woke up, and you weren’t holding my hand anymore.”

           “ ‘M sorry,” she apologized, bringing his face to rest in the crook of her neck. “I’m not used to sleeping on this side of the bed.”

           When the next night came, and she returned from her shift, Y/N said nothing as Robby assumed the spot she’d slept on the previous night. He still woke up at least two times, but she remained there – facing him with his palm in hers.

She didn’t mention she regularly went over to Robby’s during his sabbatical and spent the nights after work, so much so, she now had a spare drawer for her stuff and was more familiar with his room, than her own, her roommate joking if Y/N wasn’t still paying her rent, she would be looking for someone else to give to room to. It wasn’t her story to tell. She was there for him, though, if he needed a hand to hold. She’d draw all her spikes back for him.

Jack had started coming around, too. When she’d first opened Robby’s door to find the night shift attending before her, the older man’s forehead turned into one giant wrinkle. Given her attire of some boy shorts and one of Robby’s old college shirts, she knew what he thought, but Y/N shook her head in dismissal and let him in.

“It’s not like that,” her voice was low as Robby had knocked out on the couch, an episode of Friends on the TV, volume turned down.

Jack hummed, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on one of the barstool-type chairs. “You sure?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but didn’t dare meet his gaze as she walked to one of the loveseats, and Jack assumed the other right opposite, the couch Robby’d been splayed on between them. “I’m here as a friend, as someone to lean on. Besides… it doesn’t matter what I feel, when it would only be to his detriment.”

For a moment, Jack was silent, looking at her profile as Y/N turned an absentminded eye to the TV.

“Would it, though?” his words were soft, and she took a glance at Jack.

“Would it, though, what?”

“Be to his detriment if he found out he had someone loving him in such a way?”

She bit down on her lip because it’d be a lie to say she hadn’t thought of it. During those worst nights, during the times when he cursed at her and told her to fuck off after a therapy session had dug just a bit too deep, she’d thought of confessing, thinking that maybe if Robby knew she loved him more than she should, that there was someone willing to wait, would help. But she also knew he was too raw, too vulnerable, and it’d be more like she was taking advantage of him.

She shook her head, looking at Robby. Her heart hurt, knowing that maybe when he was better and ready for a relationship, she wouldn’t be his choice. “It’s not what he needs right now.”

Jack didn’t press on. She still felt him weighing and observing her, but he didn’t mention the fact that he knew she was in love with Robby. After a while, she rose from the seat, asking whether or not he wanted a beer, when he stopped her in her tracks.

“I just… I wanted to say thank you.”

Y/N frowned at him. “What for?” She hadn’t done anything at work that’d elicit such explicit gratefulness.

“For seeing him that day.” He turned his hazel eyes towards his snoring best friend. She resumed her seat and pulled her feet under her butt, fingers fiddling with the hem of Robby’s shirt. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost another person I love.”

Her eyes shifted to the rubber wedding band he was twirling. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Me too.”

His mouth opened in a small 'o', an understanding dawning on him. A different kind of loss for her, but one that altered a person's being to the very core. One he intimately understood. They didn't speak further of it, but during handoffs, he started to give her quick hugs and a small, “I'm here if you need to talk,” murmured into her ear.

Jack became a permanent fixture as Robby went further on his journey of therapy, and soon enough Dana appeared on his doorstep, all of them there for their chief attending, for their friend, as he walked down the road to getting better.

As days passed, they didn’t talk about what was going on at the Pitt. The therapist he’d been seeing had suggested that all work stuff be left out for now when conversing with friends, unless they were in a session where they could process the trauma and grief gained there. Well, they didn’t talk about it until Y/N had to bring it up as she was being rotated to nights.

“Why? What’s happened? Is Dr. Al-Hashimi giving you a hard time?”

Y/N bit down on her lip as she stretched, watching him with a wary gaze. It was a month and a half down the line in his sabbatical, barely a month into therapy for him. But he deserved to know why she couldn’t spend nights at his anymore.

“Baran’s good, so no conflict there. At least not anymore, not since she pulled back on pushing her Gen-AI bullshit.” She didn’t miss his slight flinch, and how he closed his eyes to process, but when they were open and back on hers, there was no jealousy or hurt to be seen. Y/N huffed a snort and plopped down next to him on his worn couch, throwing up her feet onto the coffee table. The shower could wait. “Apparently, night shift doesn’t know how to party. Or they party too much, take your pick.” She dragged a hand down her face and felt heat rise in her body, because it was such a Robby habit she’d picked up. “It was like five PM when an ambulance came in. Wanna guess who was the patient?”

Robby shrugged. “It could be literally anyone.”

“Ellis.” Y/N let out a laugh. “Turns out she’d gone out to celebrate a cousin’s engagement, and Shen tagged along. One thing led to another, led to Parker on the bar top, led to her drunk and crashing down, giving herself a broken clavicle. The two idiots were so intoxicated when they pulled up, they were still giggling and singing. That’s why I’m going to nights, to cover for Parker.”

She watched him bite down on his lip and mull over her words. Yes, a small smile was on his lips, no doubt thinking back on the stupid things he’d done when younger and drunk. But there was a certain apprehension in his eyes, a vulnerability in his voice when he asked, pretty much whispered, “Does it have to be you that covers for her?”

Y/N heard the unspoken words – I’m afraid to be alone right now. And another underlying fear – am I too much for you that you need to escape from me? Did you apply for the nights to get away from me?

And she’d been terrified, too, when Abbot and Baran had approached her, Robby was still too early on in the whole process for her to be sure everything would be good if she left him completely alone. Days could be filled up with things, with hobbies and routines. Nights, however, brought out the real monsters.

“Dr. Al-Hashimi recommended me to Jack.” Y/N shifted on the couch and took one of his hands in his in reassurance. “Said I was one of the best and they could use me while Ellis recovers. But this is not immediate. I still have to finish this week as usual, and then next week I have off to get my rhythm on nights.”

And she could see how much Robby disliked that fact, but he just nodded. “Well, she is right. You are one of the best, that’s for sure. Jack’s lucky to have you, if only for a little while.”

She didn’t need him to voice out loud the question of whether it was only for a little while.

Y/N gave him a smile. “I like nights, but there’s just something about the little group we have going on that makes it feel like family. Like home. I mean, it’s incredibly dysfunctional, don’t get me wrong, but it’s my dysfunctional. Like a TV that doesn’t work, but give it a few taps and the picture becomes clear again.” She stood up and stretched one last time, folding in on herself with a groan when she felt the vertebrae in her back pop. “But enough work talk. I am starving, and I could smell that lasagna when I was coming up the stairs.”

He’d begun cooking again and was actually fairly good. It was nice to come back somewhere with a warm homemade meal ready for her to eat. “Go get a shower then.” Robby ushered her to where his room had the ensuite. “I’ll warm it up for you.”

But before he could disappear around the corner and into the kitchen area, she grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him in a hug. “Well, get through this, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

His soft smile was filled with gratitude and something she’d only recently begun to see in his eyes again. Hope.

           When Robby finally returned from the three months he was away, she didn’t make a big deal out of it, mainly because she’d promised she wouldn’t. Besides, she still had to keep up her spiky reputation. So as he walked in, taking his sunglasses off and a deep steadying breath in, Y/N gave him her usual nod and a sturdy, “Welcome back, Cap. Ready to get back into the fray?”

           “You’ve been holding down the fort?” he smiled. Genuine. True. Eyes crinkling at the corners. Grateful.

           “You know it.”

           And that’s how they’d been ever since. They still snarked and butted heads from time to time, but there was a mutual understanding on a level others didn’t know. And for her, something way deeper had formed in her heart as well, had been for a while.

           Yet still, despite them bearing to each other some of the largest scars they possessed, Y/N hadn’t told him everything about herself, so now, as it was two months since his return, five since that fateful July, the conversation they were having was leaning way too close to a still festering wound in her own life.

           “You know,” Robby said, eyes soft and kind. “I think this is the first talk today where you haven’t tried to bite my head off.”

           “And you ruined it.” Y/N rolled her eyes and stood, but she didn’t make it far when Robby’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

           “Nope.” Her attending shook his head, and pulled her gently back down. “Come on. Spill. What is the real issue for your attitude today? You called Jack dumb this morning.”

           “Correction, I implied, he was the dumber one of the two of you.”

           “And there you go again – deflecting.”

           “You know what, my problem is you,” she grumbled. “You took me off rotation when I specifically asked to be on shift.”

           “I’m sorry.” He looked genuinely bewildered by her reaction. “People would kill to have holidays off and spend it with their loved ones. I was just trying to do you a favor.”

           She gave him a sarcastic grimace to match her even more sarcastic words. “Well, I’m not like other girls. Besides, all my loved ones are here, so…” The last part was barely a mumble, but Robby still heard it with the way he shifted and glanced her over.

           “Okay, look…” Y/N sighed, reigning in her temper. He was just trying to be a good and kind attending. A friend. He didn’t know her situation. He couldn’t have. The decision he’d made for the shifts had been done with good intentions, not to hurt her. “I just… I’m not a big fan of Christmas and all the crap that happens during and around it. Especially in my family. Being on shift was a good reason to escape it all.”

           “Can I ask why you’d want to escape Christmas? You’ll be a fellow and an attending soon enough. Getting off on holidays will be pretty impossible. You don’t have to answer.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “I know this is a very personal question.”

           “It’s fine.” She huffed and dragged a hand down her face. “I just… my family’s very particular, and I’ve just never really fit in. My mom, she’s this big-shot lawyer for a huge hedge fund, and dad’s the CFO of a tech company.”

           “Wow, so you’re loaded then,” Robby chuckled.

           “Correction, my parents are. Anyways, they host this Christmas dinner, it’s almost like a gala thing, and there’s a fucking dress code and hair code and nail code and everything-code and all that bullshit. And I just… I’ve never been impressive enough. Not to them. So every time Christmas rolls around, I just get this pit in my stomach knowing I have to attend and pretend I’m good enough to be there.”

           Robby shook his head, brows furrowed and arms resting on his bent knees. “You’re one of the best residents at this ED. Call me crazy, but getting through medical school and successfully moving up the career ladder in one of the hardest fields that exists is pretty fucking impressive. You’re one of the best here! Besides, you’re their daughter. That should be reason enough to have a spot.”

           “Yes, but the issue is I’m not perfect enough.” She sighed, hitting her head against the lockers. Or would have, had Robby’s hand not shot out to cradle her head. She would not allow the feeling of his touch to reignite the crush she’d been pushing down for years. Not now, not ever. “I have never and will never be. Yes, I went to med school, but I wasn’t top of my class. The tenth percentile means nothing when I could’ve been number one. I matched with PTMC, but I didn’t match with Johns Hopkins. I’ve picked emergency medicine, and I feel like I’m thriving here… but I didn’t go into neuro. I have an apartment, sure. But I live with a roommate and have to split bills. I’m fine… but I’m not good. Not great. I’m never enough for them. And let’s not even mention the fact that I’m single and have been since residency started. I’m just a mountain of shame in the shape of a woman for them. God forbid, I ever tell them I don’t want kids… that’s just gonna be a can of Chernobyl-sized worms.”

           “I just… I can’t have another Christmas with them, pretending I’m alright with their words, smiling for that fucking family photo when I wanna scream and rip my hair out of my head. I’m on my own there. I don’t have anyone in my fucking corner…” She shook her head, freeing her face from Robby’s touch from where he’d brushed away the traitorous tears that’d slipped out. “This is fucking humiliating and pathetic, I’m sorry.”

           “Hey, no, don’t apologize.” His brows furrowed as soothed her. “Sounds like a tough situation… I mean, I could come with you. Be your date. You’ve been there for me at my very worst. You don’t have to do this on your own. I’m here.”

She let out a sad snort. “Thanks, but no thanks. They’d find a way to spin that. Say I’m fucking my way up to an attending position by being a toy for the chief attending or something along those lines.”

“Seriously?” His brows rose to his hairline.

“You have not met my parents. If you were going on your own, they’d probably adore you.” She scoffed. “I mean, what’s not to love – steady job, experienced, smart, handsome, probably with a 401k. An attending’s salary also doesn’t hurt, which I presume is pretty swell. They’d probably try to set you up with an aunt or a cousin of mine.” The rueful smile on her face was as sour as the acid roiling in her stomach.

“Even if I was explicitly coming as your partner?”

“They’d take it as a fucking challenge if anything.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s fine. Not my first rodeo at that clown show. Unfortunately, most likely won’t be my last either.”

“Can I ask why you do it then?”

Y/N tilted her head to look at him.

“Why go back to those holidays? Why endure it?”

A huff escaped her as she toyed with the spoon in her hand. “I guess because it’s expected of me. Because if I just clench my teeth and smile through it, at least for a while, I won’t have some text or call from them to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am.”

His knuckles nudged her elbow before they slowly slid down her forearm and into her palm, fingers intertwining with hers. When she looked at Robby, the intensity of his gaze almost took her breath away. “You’re not a disappointment. You’re stubborn and set in your ways, and so sure of yourself, others would call you bossy. But in truth, you’re brilliant, and smart, and every single person who knows you is damn fucking lucky they do.”

It was hard for her to hear him say such things and mean them, to only find truth in his eyes. She wanted to brush it off, throw out some remark, and move on, but neither his touch nor his look allowed her to. With difficulty, Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Just stating the obvious facts.”

Her eyes trailed over his face, one she’d gotten to know intimately, one she’d spent evenings and nights holding against her collarbone as he battled his demons and leaned on her for support. She knew the crow-lines around his eyes like her own fingerprints, knew that despite everything, under that beard hid deep smile lines, perpetual marks of the happiness he’d experienced. Salt and pepper hair she’d run her hands through when he’d needed her touch to ground him, and those damn brown cow eyes. Ones that’d been so devoid of life and hope just less than half a year ago, now filled with renewed vigor and determination. And something else, as she watched his pupils dilate and shift down to her mouth.

But whatever would’ve happened, didn’t because right in that moment, Baran rushed in, making Y/N snap back in place.

Fuck, when had she started to lean in?

“MVC coming in three minutes,” the older woman breathed out. Before she could say more, her brows drew together and pointed at the resident on the ground. “What are you doing here? And is that my spoon?”

She threw her hands in the air. “Why is no one happy to see me?” Y/N pocketed the utensil. “And no, it isn’t. It’s mine, so back off.”

With a grunt, both she and Robby stood. There wasn’t time to unpack what the last moments after their conversation had meant. Not when she needed to have her hands in someone’s open chest in a matter of minutes. And still, throughout it all, she was aware of Robby’s presence, of his front against her back when he leaned over to steady her hand as a slight tremor rushed through, adrenaline spiking in her body, steadying her in a moment of need.

Y/N didn’t let the looks of others get to her. Especially not the smirk Samira threw her way, nor when Santos wiggled her brows towards Princess and Perlah, and even Javadi and Mel allowed their lips to pull up in a soft smile.

By the time the patient was stabilized, they didn’t have time to celebrate, and nobody had time to tease her either. December was insane, filled with broken bones, concussions, and vehicle accidents due to the ice, but it was something about the holidays that made it twice as bad, and Y/N was a zombie by the time she should have been clocking out of the shift. And yet she still had the whole night ahead of her, because of course she'd just had to say she'd do it, simply to spite someone.

She handed Jack her pad, who’d walked up beside her at the HUB where she’d been leaning against, rubbing at her eyes with more vigor than necessary.

“You alright there, kid?”

“Stellar. Perfect. Amazing. Never felt this good in my life.” The words were said with absolutely no emotion, and it made him snort. “Who the fuck let me decide I wanted to be a doctor?”

“Go home. Rest. I have no use of you dead on your feet.”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I promised I’d pull a double, I’m pulling a double.”

“Your promises mean shit when you can’t see straight. Hey, brother!” Jack called over her shoulder. “Come take your girl home.”

She was just about to hiss, “I’m not his girl,” when Robby sauntered over, battle-worn and tired to the bone, but with a smile on his face.

“He’s right, you know.” He addressed Y/N. “I can’t let you in good conscience pull a double. It won’t be good for you, and I’m not letting you tank your patient satisfaction scores. You know their care tops it all. Even your stubbornness.”

She glared at the two men, grumbling. “Why the fuck do you two need to be so sensible?”

“Come on, kid.” Robby gently took her by the shoulder and guided her to the lockers. “Let me take you home.”

She was too exhausted to argue, so she let him. They redressed in their normal clothes in silence, and it took everything in her not to take a peek when she saw him slide down his scrub pants to pull on some jeans.

He was her attending for fuck’s sake!

And yet… the crush that’d formed in the past few years was inescapable, despite everything in between. She didn’t dare make a move, not when he was so early on in his healing process. A resident telling their depressed boss they were in love with them was not something Robby needed. Besides, just because he was softer with her, more understanding, didn’t mean he had any other feelings. He probably just appreciated that she’d been there for him when he’d needed someone. But maybe…

           Before she could talk herself out of it, Y/N spun around the lockers, hands on her hips, blocking Robby from moving, teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she said, “There’s a dress code.”

           It took him a moment to register what she meant by that, but his shoulders dropped, and he gave a nod as he readjusted his rucksack on his shoulder. “Yes, you did mention that.”

           “I don’t think you realize how specific this is. Three-piece suit. Bowtie. It’s nonnegotiable. If you have some fancy watch, put it on. Shoes polished so hard you can see your reflection. Think – meeting the King of England, but like five times as stupidly strict.”

           “I can do that.” He nodded. “Just tell me what time I should pick you up, and I’ll be there.”

           “Five. It’s an hour-long drive and the thing starts at six thirty, but we need to be earlier.”

           “Okay.”

           And that was that. Like it was so simple for him to just decide to play her date and be there for her.

           But isn’t that how easy it was for you to pick him, too, that traitorous voice whispered in her head.

           Because it had been. She hadn’t even thought of leaving Robby on his own, even in the bad moments when he was crashing and lashing out and being mean and nasty. She stayed there like a rock during a forest fire, until it dimmed to embers and rain came to wash the ash away.

           “Care to tell me the color of your dress?” The cold air of Pittsburgh wafted around the two as they exited PTMC, darkness having overtaken the city since like three PM.

           “Wine red. So will be my nails and lips.” Y/N grimaced. “All part of the dress code.”

           But Robby seemed jovial about it all. “I can work with wine red.”

           “I am terrified to ask what that means.”

           “Well, does the dress code permit matching?”

           “You’re gonna match with me?” she raised her brows.

           Robby looked down at her with a soft smile and opened the passenger door as they’d gotten to the car, an old, but trusty pick-up truck, he’d traded in for his motorcycle. “Well, I am going as your date. Just give me a shade swatch, so it’s not too far off.”

           “You don’t have to, you know.” Heat crept up her body, and she shifted her eyes to the frosted-over windshield because looking at him was just too much. “It’s bad enough you’re gonna be stuck in this shindig, you don’t need to go out of your way for it.”

           He shrugged, taking her bag from her shoulder and throwing it with his in the back seat. “Humor me.”

           Y/N huffed, but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her veins. And not because he’d turned the heating on high once he settled in the driver’s spot. “I’ll send you a picture.”

           The time to her place was spent listening to the radio, neither bothering to fill the silence, but there was no need. It wasn’t awkward or heavy, simply a tired one.

           “Get some rest,” Robby said as she got out of the car and took her bag from the backseat. “And I’ll see you tomorrow. Five o’clock on the dot.”

           “See you tomorrow, Robby. Sleep tight. Call me if you need anything.”

           “I will.” The promise was soft, but sure.

           Sleep took her the second she got out of the shower, body hitting the bed like a rock. Y/N was almost completely out when she remembered she’d promised to send Robby a picture of the dress so he could do… whatever it was he was planning. Maybe he’d get some socks that shade, who knows.

           It took every bit of her willpower to get out from under the weighted blanket, pull a corner of the dress to her camera, and snap it for Robby.

           When she awoke at eleven in the morning, the only word attached to the picture was “red”. She didn’t even remember typing the three letters. At least he’d responded with a thumbs up to it.

           The day passed way too quickly for her liking, and by the time five PM rolled around, she was an anxious, jittering mess, and she didn’t have her roommate to help either, as she was away to celebrate Christmas with her own family.

She’d redone the chignon her hair had been pulled back in against her will like six times, cause if her mother saw a single flyaway, she’d tut and glare. Y/N had to reline her lips three times, because during her day-to-day, she never did. Maybe a thick lipgloss or peptide treatment to keep moisture in, but tinted lipsticks just weren’t a priority. Not when putting on some concealer and mascara in the mornings was too hard after waking from the previous shift, and done so if only to not scare her patients.

           The bell echoed through her apartment, startling her and signaling Robby was there.

           Five o’clock on the dot. Like he’d promised.

           A deep breath in. A deep breath out. It was time to get the show on the road.

           The sight before her was immaculate. Robby in a fucking three-piece suit, a deep, wine-red bowtie around his neck, beard clean and oiled, hair brushed but still a bit mussed in a tasteful manner. Even his fucking cuffs were the shade of her dress, and there, as he took a step inside her apartment, yes, even his socks matched, a black coat with a black shawl over it all, tying the look together.

           “Wow,” Robby breathed out, not hiding the way his eyes raked up and down her body, snatching on where there was a slit up her thigh. “You look breathtaking.”

           Y/N huffed. “I’m about this close,” she pressed her pointer finger and thumb practically together, “to ripping my hair out because the pins are digging into my scalp. Spanx is absolutely cutting off my breathing, and I can already feel the blisters forming on my heels and -,” No. This wasn’t Robby’s fault. He didn’t deserve her attitude. Not with how he’d gone all out for her when he hadn’t needed to.

           “Thank you.” She let out a long breath and gave him a smile she actually meant. “You look amazing as well.”

           He just shrugged, bashful and flustered. “At least this was an excuse to bring the suit out for something other than a hospital investor’s event.”

           “Believe me, after this, you’ll be dying for some award ceremony. It’ll be a walk in the park,” she said over her shoulder as Robby helped her put on the fur coat she only brought out for this single moment in the year. She hated it, but her mother would pop a vessel if she appeared in her normal jacket and Perlah’s hand-made mittens. God forbid she wanted her fingers to remain warm and no fur in her lipgloss.

           “Alright.” Robby took hold of her hands and squeezed. “You ready?”

           “No… but with you, I kinda feel not so afraid.”

           He didn’t let go as they moved down to the car. When she saw the sleek grey Mercedes, Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, making him slightly tug her along, and she stumbled before regaining her balance.

           “Robby, what the fuck is this?” she let out a scoff, eyes wide in shock. “Where’s your car?”

           He was rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the door for her. “This is my car… one of them.”

           “Holy shit, an attending actually makes that much money?” Maybe it was worth sticking it all out until she became one. Maybe she’d be able to put a deposit down for an apartment she didn’t have to share. Maybe she’d be able to start paying off her student loans in chunks that actually meant something, before interest racked it up again.

           He raised his shoulders. “I’m definitely not complaining. But this was more so a, uh, midlife crisis thing before my actual midlife crisis.”

           “Well, that midlife crisis sure had expensive taste.”

           “You don’t even wanna know.”

           “Oh, but I do.” She gave him a devilish grin. “I so fucking do.”

           The whole ride to her parents’ place, Y/N, having given him the address to put in his GPS, she was wringing the handle to her clutch that only held her silenced phone. That was until Robby slid his fingers between hers and stopped those motions.

           God, he looked so fucking hot driving with only one hand on the wheel.

           Nope. Absolutely not. She was not gonna let her monkey brain take over. Robby was just doing a nice thing because he felt bad for her. It was nothing more, nothing less.

           Too soon for her liking, the house came in view.

           Well, mansion if she was being honest.

           Memories of her childhood spent alone or with her nanny in those empty rooms came to mind.

           She supposed she’d been luckier than other kids. No, she definitely had been. She was always clothed and fed, and she was driven to school and back. She never had to worry about what the next day would bring. But Y/N had been so goddamned lonely and sad the whole time; others would most likely brush her off if they knew the wealth she’d been surrounded by, but it was the truth.

           Her parents never had time for her, and when they did, it wasn’t to do anything she wanted. Sure, she was put in a ballet class. But when her mom had come to her first recital, Y/N saw her tapping away at her phone the whole time. Or at the age of six, when her dad had gotten her first big bike, but didn’t help her learn it. Their driver did, holding onto the back of the bench until she was steady enough he could let go. He was the only one cheering her on as she made it down and up the driveway.

           When she’d gotten to high school and started expressing interest of going into medicine, it’d been the first time she’d seen her parents be actually pleased with a decision she’d made. Not proud. Simply pleased.

           But then she’d started struggling with some topics in AP Chem and AP Math, needing a tutor. Maybe skipping two grades hadn’t actually been a good thing. Her mother had called it embarrassing that she couldn’t get such simple equations. Not that she would sit down and help her daughter.

           And when Amy had passed… they’d never particularly liked her, Y/N knew that. She knew they didn’t appreciate that Amy came from a lower-middle-class family and liked rock music, and had even gotten a secret tattoo two years before her death. She was the only one from her family to go to Amy’s funeral, even though they’d been best friends since the age of seven. She still laid down three roses despite neither of her parents standing by her side through her grief.

           Robby placed his hand on her shoulder, pulling her from the thoughts, and it was only then she noticed the car had been idling in place before the entrance, the motor a soothing rumble through her back.

           “I’m here for you.”

           Four simple words that meant the world to her.

           Y/N nodded her head, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. “Let’s do this, so we can get out of here.”

           With her hand linked through Robby’s elbow, they made their way up the stairs, large oak double-doors opened by two hired staff for the evening showed the glamorous gilded entryway hall where a while marble spiral staircase wove up on the right side.

           A smile pulled up at her lips. “I rode down those stairs with a mattress once.”

           Robby raised a brow. “And how did that go for you?”

           “It got stuck on the second-to-last step, and I flew forward. Lost two of my front baby teeth that day.”

           “Seems about right for you.” He chuckled and handed off their coats to an awaiting man with a thanks. “This place is insane.”

           “Yep. But not as bad as my parents. Speaking of which, here we go.”

           Her mother appeared before them in her usual put-together manner – a sharp cut bob, so sleek and shiny, Y/N could see the chandelier's reflection on top of it. Eyes lined with kohl, the wing flicking out just a bit, while her lips remained rouge-free. She was wearing a different deep shade of red, the dress clinging to her body in all the right places, and, of course, her signature pearls around her neck and in her ears. Nothing had changed. Not even the disapproving look on her face.

           “You’re here.” It was a simple fact stated, not an ounce of elation that Y/N had arrived, before the woman’s sharp eyes snapped to Robby. “With an extra person. You didn’t mention you’d be having a plus one in your RSVP.”

           Her body begged to squirm under the scrutiny, but Robby was quick. “I didn’t know I’d be available until this morning. December in an ED is crazy. Michael Robinavitch, but most call me Robby." He extended a hand, and after a moment of consideration, Y/M/N took it.

           “Pleasure,” though the tone suggested otherwise. She looked back at Y/N, scanning her from top to bottom, no doubt searching for something to jibe at, but finding not even a single hair out of place, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Dinner will be served in half an hour.”

           And that was it. That was her welcome home.

           “Jesus, Ice Queen just shuddered from the cold,” Robby huffed, dragging a hand down his face.

           “Could’ve been so much worse. This was actually a warm welcome from her.”

           For the next thirty minutes, they mingled with people she vaguely recognized from when she was a kid and had to go with her parents to their work events. And Robby, as promised, remained by her side the whole time, charming and talking, and praising Y/N for what she’d accomplished like the good fake-boyfriend he was. The only moment when she was on her own was when he excused himself to the restroom. It was enough time, though, for the vultures to come in the form of two of her aunts.

           “So…” One of them pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side where Robby had disappeared. “Your chief attending. Isn’t he too old for you… and too inappropriate?”

           If she had trouble expressing herself before her parents, Y/N couldn’t say it was the same with her aunts. At least when they weren’t around. “No, he’s not. He’s exactly who I want, and I’m lucky he wants to be with me, too. Everything is consensual and above board. Soon enough, I’ll be a fellow anyway, so we're on pretty equal footing.”

           “Yes, but right now you’re still his resident,” the other aunt chimed in, sipping on her champagne. “Aren't you just a bit too immature to handle a man of such age?”

           “Well, taking you and your six marriages, it seems you’re too immature to handle a man of any age, Mags.” She gave her a sickly sweet smile as she noted the absence of a ring on her finger. “You have lipstick on your teeth, by the way.”

           Robby’s arm, weaving around her waist in that moment, was the saving grace because Y/N was just about to go on a spiel about how they’d never actually accomplished anything on their own, only leeching from the generational wealth, but his touch tampered her temper. Until Rena, the one without lipstick staining her horrible veneers, gave the man beside her a shark-like smile.

           “I’m Rena, Y/M/N’s sister. Younger.” She extended her hand in a motion where the proper response for a man would be to kiss the top of it. When Robby clasped it in a sure clap and gave it a shake, had Y/N been drinking, she would’ve snorted out champagne from her nose.

           Rena’s face soured at his very clear dismissal, but Y/N knew her aunts. They’d take their time to chip away at their niece if only to make themselves come out somewhat on top. Robby was a catch, and she hadn’t been lying when she said he was handsome, even when worn down by the day at the emergency department. Suited up and rested? That was a whole different beast, one others very obviously wanted a piece of.

           “Nice to meet you.” He inclined his head a bit, before all of his attention snapped back to the woman at his side. They hadn’t discussed their 'relationship' pretty much at all, but fuck, he was way too good at making her feel like it was real.

           They’d gone over the basics and decided not to lie too much, only add that over time their feelings had grown more romantic, and, after a long and thorough discussion, had decided to try it out. Given how it wouldn’t be too long until Y/N became a fellow, they’d decided it would be alright as long as they went to HR. If anyone implied favoritism, she’d say she wouldn’t request Robby for a letter of recommendation, instead go to Jack and Baran, so it would be an objective choice whether or not they thought she was good to move further at PTMC.

           “I think the table’s about to be set, sweetheart.” Robby leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, the beard tickling her skin. Y/N couldn’t help her salacious imagination of what it’d feel like between her thighs. “We should probably move over.”

           With his hand still tight on her hip, he maneuvered them to the large dining hall.

           “Versailles has nothing on this place,” he muttered into her ear.

           “Don’t let my parents hear it. Their ego already has no roof.”

           The sound of a bell tinkling announced it was time to take their seats, and chatter grew louder as more and more people trickled into the dining room. Y/N went to where she usually sat – her mother and father both at the head of the table next to one another, she on her mother’s right. Luckily, someone had put an extra chair next to her own right, Robby’s name spelled in neat penmanship. Whoever had managed to write out Robinavitch right on the first try was gonna get a big thumbs up from her. But she also did manage to see he had the Dr. before his name, and she didn’t. Y/N swallowed down the pang of hurt, but not before he noticed the way her shoulders visibly deflated, his hand sliding along her back in comfort.

           Robby, ever the gentleman, pulled her chair out for her, and gathering her dress under her knees, she lowered herself in place as he assumed his, not bothering to acknowledge her aunt at his other side though.

           “Okay, you gotta help me out with all these fancy spoons and forks and shit. Why do I have like eight of each?”

           Y/N had to suppress the giggle threatening to break free, especially as her mother was watching the two with clear displeasure. “Just start from the outside and work your way in with each course. The first though will be a warm towelette. Not a marshmallow. Do not eat that. One of my dad’s ex-colleagues did, and I think they fired him three days later. Never saw him again at any of these things at least.”

           “For making a mistake?”

           “For embarrassing himself before them.”

           And slowly but surely the evening moved on, but no matter how much Robby tried, her family found a way to sour things.

He complemented the food, and her mother found a way to jibe at how her daughter had never liked fish, so they always had to accommodate her 'fussiness'.

           He said the giant Christmas tree in the hall was absolutely fabulous, and Rockefeller Center would be jealous, and her father found a way to say ever since that one time when Y/N was ten and attempted to decorate it herself, they always hired professionals, because they just couldn’t have it look so 'messy' and 'incoherent'.

           Robby tried to make it sound nice, how lovely it was to get everyone they cared about together during the holidays, when Y/M/N shrugged and said, she wished Y/N came home more often to appreciate it all, because family was so important. “I mean, I don’t know how serious you are with her, as she’s never managed to have a steady relationship longer than a year. By the time she has kids, we’ll probably be in our eighties.”

           Y/N went completely rigid beside Robby, and he noticed it. Pretty much everyone did, but unlike the others around, he knew she didn’t want kids. Had explicitly told him that out loud just the previous day. Of course, they’d bring it up with her supposed boyfriend at her side.

           “Well, that is her decision to make.” He shrugged like it was nothing, hand resting on the top of her thigh. “When or how many. None if she doesn’t want any. It’s for her to choose.”

           Her father scoffed, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “And you? Do you want kids?” The with her was implied, of course. Because why would anyone want that with her?

           “I’ve thought about it, yes. But I would only want them with someone else who does. Y/N knows all the risks and what comes with pregnancy. As a doctor, she’s seen all the sides of it, and so have I. I would never make anyone go through that without a thorough confirmation it is what they want. It’s not my body after all.”

           Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t fucking cry. Not right now.

           “Well, you two better get to it,” Y/F/N said as if what Robby had responded meant nothing. As if him confirming, the only way he’d want kids is if his partner did, meant nothing to him. That her decisions were not to be taken seriously. “You’re not getting any younger, and neither is she.”

           “She’s twenty-seven. We just celebrated her birthday,” Robby said through a gritted smile, and Mags snorted on the other side of him. If his eyes could spit venom, she’d be blind then and there.

           “That’s spinster age. But Y/N’s always done better on her own, haven’t you? Wouldn’t be a surprise if she runs out on you after the Christmas holidays. It is, oh, what was it called, cuffing season, right? Will probably cut her losses the second she can.”

           Y/N wanted to scream.

           No, she hadn’t always done better on her own. She’d been simply left to her own devices without anything else to do but to adapt. Just because she’d been able to accomplish everything she had, didn’t mean she didn’t yearn for company, for companionship.

           Robby gripped her hand under the table so tight, it felt like they were back when he was having one of his bad days. Only this time, it was her being shoved into that black abyss.

           She hated herself a bit for allowing him to see her like this. She was Y/N, the Spike of PTMC. She should be stronger than this. She should be able to take a few back-handed comments, and yet her heart bled every time someone opened their mouth.

           “Well, if it’s cuffing season, then I’ve already thrown the key away.” He was looking at nobody else but her. “I’m sticking around for however long she wants me to.”

           That’s what did her in. There was no one else at the table who knew how much those words meant. How much Robby had struggled to get to a point where he could say them out loud and mean it.

           Something shifted right then and there. A permanent tilt of the axis of their world. Because all of those gazes and words she’d tried to write off as something else, snapped into their correct context. It was up to her now to decide what to do with it. Robby was giving the ball to her, and his eyes were open and encouraging. He’d follow her wherever she’d lead.

           “Well, be careful with that one,” Rena said from across the table. “She can be a lot to handle, needy little thing. Too young and immature to understand what she wants or can take. I’d suggest looking at someone your own age before settling with someone so… childish.”

           When Y/M/N hummed and nodded in agreement, Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She’d hoped having Robby beside her would create some sort of buffer and wall, but instead, every single barb was more hurtful than when she was there on her own.

           She wiped across her mouth, lipstick leaving a dark imprint before standing up and leaving without so much as an ‘excuse me’.

           Robby was hot on her trail, if only by the sound of his shoes slapping against the marble floors. It took him no time at all to catch up to her, what with his six foot one frame, three of her steps was like one of his. But it wasn’t the only pair of shoes walking after her.

           As Y/N spun around, Robby’s hands moving to pull her into his body for comfort, she saw her mother walk up to them, her pace brisk, eyes sharp like a cobra’s.

           “Get yourself together,” Y/M/N hissed. “You have one minute, and then you need to get back in there. We still have to take the family picture. I will not entertain your dramatics for much longer. You’re acting like you’re five, not like an adult.”

           She didn’t expect the scoff Robby let out. “You think your kid crying because her family was being nasty towards her is dramatic?”

           “I think she is an almost thirty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to get others to pay attention to herself otherwise.” Y/M/N’s tone was cool and collected. “So stop crying. Your mascara’s smudging, and get back inside. Now.”

           “Actually,” Robby snapped back. “We’re leaving.”

           Y/M/N stiffened and straightened her back. “She needs to take the picture. And apologize to everyone for causing a scene.”

           Y/N tugged at his elbow as he glared at her mother. “Don’t. Please, Robby”

           The way his eye snapped back to hers took her breath away. He was furious. Livid. But not at her. “She doesn’t. She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.” His brown gaze bore into hers, straight to her soul. “Do you want to stay?”

           Tears brimmed along her bottom lashes as Y/N shook her head. “No.” The word was barely a whisper, but she’d done it. She’d said it out loud, if only for Robby.

           “Then we’re going home. No is enough of an answer.” The kiss to her forehead was bone-melting, as he spun her under his arm and guided her to the front of the house. He helped her into her coat and made sure it was shut tight as it’d begun snowing outside before walking her to the car, softly closing the door so she was inside the warm interior.

           She dared to take one last look at the entryway only to find her mother standing there and fuming, but when her eyes shifted from her daughter, her whole stance changed. It became more unsure. Unsteady. Y/N saw her eye twitch and mouth open in shock. She turned her head only to find Robby still standing by his door, one hand on the handle, but not opening it. She could hear the muffled sound of his voice, but as she was about to step out of the car to hear what he was saying, he slid inside and revved the engine, peeling out of their driveway and driving them towards home.

           “I’m sorry,” his voice was low. Sincere. But most importantly, not pitying. She would’ve probably gouged his eyes out if she saw pity on his face. “Nobody should ever be treated that way, but especially by their parents. Their family.”

           Y/N let out a sad snort. “It’s not like you didn’t try to stand up for me. Thank you, by the way, for that. You didn’t have to do it.”

           “Yeah, I did.” He nodded along with his words, hands red from the cold, because of course the guy didn’t have gloves. “My gram raised me better than that.”

           She raised a curious brow, but didn’t ask. If he didn’t wanna share, she wasn’t gonna push him. Robby shrugged. “My grandmother brought me up. And I’d like to think she raised me right enough that I don’t stand by when I hear such bullshit being spewed. I couldn’t just sit back and watch them hurt you… I’ve never seen you like that.”

           Y/N bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Meek?”

           “Shut down,” he corrected. “Unsure of yourself. You almost bit my head off as an itty bitty first-year med-student when we first met.” She watched Robby hit his head against the headrest, not taking his eyes off the road. “But this? I hated it. It was like there was a stranger beside me, not the woman I’ve known for the past however many years. You’re Spike. My,” he cleared his throat, “our Spike.”

           Y/N snorted. Spike. The nickname Trinity had christened her with. Not like from Buffy, but like a cactus.

She’d had to grow her spikes. With parents like that, she couldn’t afford not to. It was her only protection mechanism that she’d carried into adulthood. But something happened to her when she faced them. It was like the person she could be around people who gave her a chance – a blossoming and brave woman around her friends – shriveled into a corner and turned into a scared child. They broke her spikes one by one, and always managed to find the soft center. And they hit right where it hurt, in that unprotected underbelly.

“Yeah, well,” she sniffled. “It is what it is. Not like I can change the way they see me or what they think. As I said, I was right.” Her laugh was more of a scoff. “Never thought there’d come a day I’d hate to hear those words.”

Robby didn’t really have anything to respond to that, so the rest of the drive back to Pittsburgh was spent in silence. By the time they got to his apartment, the flurry had become heavy flakes, turning the world into an absolute Winter Wonderland.

“Do you wanna come up for a bite? You didn’t eat much at dinner.”

It was true. She’d mostly shifted the food around, another memory of her mother saying she could see a 'pudge' on her stomach during the last ballet recital she ever had. That’d sent her down a deep eating disorder later in life, and though now she was fine, and didn’t care about what she ate when she was out with friends, Y/N still looked more at her plate than emptied it around her mom.

Her instinct told her to refuse, but she craved the comfort of Robby’s apartment… of him, so she nodded. By the time they were outside his door, he’d already ordered from the Thai place they both loved.

“Should be here in thirty minutes or so,” he said, pocketing his phone and fishing out his keys, but it didn’t matter to her, as something above his doorway had snagged her attention.

           “Oh, look at that,” Robby murmured. “Mistletoe. Must’ve been Mrs. Lenny from downstairs. She always does something like this when the festive season comes around. Last year, it was a little red bow,” he chuckled.

           Y/N hummed. “Did you know mistletoe is actually hemiparasitic? It kills the tree it attaches itself to if there isn’t enough water because it starts leeching it off from the host. The larger and heavier types of mistletoe can damage the branches and leaves of the host plant as well.”

           For a moment, there was silence. And then Robby asked, “Any facts about how and why it became the symbol to kiss underneath?”

           Her head snapped to look at him, not the plant. It took a moment to process what he said, as her eyes searched for mirth, for where the joke was, only to find him hoping and dead-serious.

           “Seriously?” she let out a disbelieving chuckle. “After everything you saw tonight, you wanna kiss me? For real?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for real for so much longer than this night. Years. Quite a few, actually. I just never got the courage to do so.”

Y/N took a small step back from him, the instinct to protect herself kicking in. “I’m not gonna pull you into my shade of crazy, Robby. You have a good life going on that you’ve fought tooth and nail for. I’m not gonna ruin that with my batshit insane family. I might’ve gotten away tonight, but the second I look at my phone, I can guarantee there’ll be about ten thousand messages about just how big of a fuck-up I am. I could feel it vibrating the whole way back.”

           “But that’s the thing. My life is just good.” He stepped closer and cupped her face. She had nowhere to run now, no sharp words to hide behind, no smart-assed retort to throw out, not when his thumb brushed along her cheekbone so tenderly. “It was good when you appeared in it, with all your stubbornness and hard-assery. It was good when you helped me through my worst, when I thought I’d never get out of the darkness. It was good, when I found out you were thinking of applying to the Pitt for your fellowship, when I found out I’d get to have you around for a few more years. But I want it to be great.”

He rested his forehead against hers, Y/N’s breath stuttering in her lungs as she dug her fingers into his coat. “I want to wake up next to you, grumbling about how it’s way too early to face the day. I want to hear you humming in the kitchen as you try and make pancakes, and inevitably fail and set off the fire alarm. I want to take a shower with you and wash the stress of the shift away. I want HR and all the paperwork, and I want this to be solid and real and official. I want to hear you snark with Jack when you have your nightshift rotations. I wanna hear him tell me one more time, how you’re it for me, and that I better do something before someone else comes and sweeps you off your feet, just so I can tell him, I already did, and he can finally eat his words.”

           “I’m not good enough for you, Robby,” Y/N choked out, her forehead resting against his, Robby’s palm still on her cheek and the other having settled on her waist. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but at the same time, it was hard to process what he’d said. That he actually meant what he’d said. “You heard every single thing they said.”

           “All I heard were insecure people projecting onto someone they should love unconditionally,” his words were warm against her mouth. “Because you’re not just good, you’re the one I see spending my future with. A future I wouldn’t even have unless you’d seen through me that day. And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

           She bit the inside of her cheek before glancing up to find Robby still looking down at her. A sliver of bravery ran through her veins. “It’d be against tradition, right? To not… kiss… under the mistletoe.”

           “Tradition doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

           “No,” she agreed, but after a deep steadying breath, she nodded more to herself than him. “But maybe it’s a tradition I’d like to start. With you. And only with you.”

           The way his eyes lit up made her heart speed up in her chest.

           Slowly, tentatively, like he thought Y/N might bolt at any minute, he lowered his lips.

           It was a gentle brush at first, testing and still led by a mixture of fear and worry, but when she opened her mouth, gasping against him, all of Robby’s composure went away.

           One hand roughly settled on the small of her back, having dug around the inside of her coat, while the other angled her face up so he could get more of her lips, more of her tongue and teeth, and so he could offer more in return too.

           For the first time that whole day, she felt giddy. She felt happy and exhilarated and so, so, so fucking right. Like this was where they were meant to be and belong.

           Robby spun her around, her back hitting the still closed door, but his hand, just like the day before, managed to snap behind her scalp, taking the brunt of the motion. Y/N’s leg hiked up along his and wove around his hips, the hand he’d been holding on her waist greedily grasping at her thigh, kneading at the tights-covered skin.

           “Inside,” she gasped as his lips moved to her neck. She could only imagine what state she was in and how he’d leave her. “Please let’s go inside.”

           He mouthed at her neck. “Why rush? We have the next two days off.”

           Y/N’s brows furrowed as she gently pushed Robby’s forehead to get him away from her so she could look the man in the eye. It took everything in her not to moan at his disheveled look, lips kiss-swollen and plump. “No, we don’t. I definitely don’t. I told you I wanted to work holidays.”

           “Look, I had an inkling, no matter how this night panned out, after what you told me of your family, you’d need time to decompress and relax. So I kept the schedule for the 26th and 27th as planned, despite your instance of putting you on.”

           “And if this hadn’t gone the way it is right now? If I’d gone back to my place, I still would’ve shown up tomorrow.”

           “I thought about it. So, I instructed Shen to call me during handoff if you did, and I would personally have gone to the Pitt to haul your ass out. I’m not above going to Gloria and making her bench you either.”

           Y/N gasped, pushing him even further away from her. “You wouldn’t dare!”

           “Just try me,” he grumbled, catching her lips in another kiss. “Cause sweetheart, now I have two uninterrupted nights and two uninterrupted days to have my way with you. I might be an old white man, how you so eloquently put it yesterday morning, but I’ve been dreaming about this for a while. Make no mistake – I have plans.”

           But their plans would have to be rescheduled for a moment as an elderly woman shuffled up the stairs, holding onto what seemed like three bags of take-out food.

           “Ah, Robinavitch. So you are home.” She handed the stunned man the bags with a smirk. “You weren’t answering the poor delivery man ringing your bell, so I took the liberty to rearrange it when he rung mine… and to see if the little plant was successful.” She gave Y/N a conspiratorial wink. “It was high time for him to do something about you two. And looking at the state of both of you, I’d say it’s been successful.”

           “Thank you?” Y/N squeaked out, as who she assumed was Mrs. Lenny, retreated back to her apartment with a wink over her shoulder and mouthed 'use condoms' at her.

           God, what a fucking scene the two of them probably made – her chignon mussed and lipstick remnants smeared all over Robby’s mouth, her eyes black from her smudged mascara. His bowtie was open as she’d managed to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt, his hair ruffled from where she’d been running her hands through, her silken dress rumpled around her waist, and coat half removed.

           “I uh.” Y/N licked her lips and instantly his eyes snapped down to them. “I don’t mind letting the food get cold.”

           “Good.” There was such a predatory note in his voice, it made her clench her thigh, and he sure as hell noticed. “Cause this is not the appetizer I want.”

           The whimper she let out was certainly undignified, and if she’d made such a sound at the ED, the ribbing she’d be getting would never end, but it only seemed to spur Robby on, as he unlocked the door and pushed her inside, dropping their food on the counter, only to have her coat and his completely off within the next half second.

           “Let’s take these out.” He ran a hand along where her hair twisted on the inside, all held together by a myriad of pins. “I want you to be as close as possible to yourself if we’re doing this. Not some made-up version that you think you need to become for someone else’s satisfaction.”

           Robby’s words brought her to tears, and he kissed each of them away as his fingers removed every single pin, and her hair dropped down to rest in its natural position. She hated straightening it. Hated how much it damaged the strands, but to fit the hair-code set by her mother, there was no other way around it. When his fingers dug against her scalp, the relief was immense, his tips massaging where metal had dug in and caused pain.

           “Good enough?” She tried to alleviate the mood and wiggled her brows a bit.

           Robby took in a deep breath and exhaled, cupping her cheek. “For me, you’ve always been perfect. Even when we hated each other, and I’d been loath to admit it. I just hate the box they tried to put you in. This dress is gorgeous, but the whole thing together… It’s just not you.”

           “Then how about you get me out of it?” Y/N asked, feeling braver than she felt, though the reverent look in Robby’s eyes calmed her down a bit. She trusted him. With her life, and with the most important thing in her life – her heart.

           Slowly, his hands drifted to her back, where the zipper rested. He was teasing her, she could tell by the smirk that bloomed on his kiss-bitten mouth as he dragged his palms up from the base of her spine to just below her shoulder blades, flicking the little metal zipper.

           “How attached are you exactly to this dress?”

           Y/N bit down on her lip. “Well, my mom sent it over, so it’d match the set attire-,”

           She didn’t even get to finish the sentence when she felt both of Robby’s hands grab the top of the dress and rip it open, the zipper destroyed in an instant.

           “I’ll buy you ten dresses.” He kissed her through the surprised gasp she let out. “A hundred. I’ll buy you every fucking dress you so much as look at, as long as you’d feel comfortable wearing it.” He bit down on the top of her chest, half free from the restraints. “But I’m not gonna apologize for being efficient in ridding you of something you were uncomfortable in.”

           The Spanx came next; Robby very visibly displeased she was wearing the shapewear, but to his chagrin, he couldn’t just rip this specific material, so he had to relegate himself to rolling it down inch by inch, allowing her body to relax. His hand ran over the way her form dipped and widened, over her stomach and hips until he could do nothing but choke on a moan and throw his head back.

           “And no… fuck!” Robby swore under his breath. “No fucking panties? Seriously?

Y/N was left only in a black lace balconette bra that pushed her breasts up, as it was the only one to match the neckline of the dress, while on the underneath, nothing but black tights existed.

“They showed through even with the Spanx on. Even my thongs did.”

He pressed his forehead to her chest and whimpered. The man actually whimpered. Slick already coated the inside of her thighs, but this elicited another wave to make a mess of her. When he noticed her rubbing her legs together, the seam of her tights catching onto her clit and alleviating some of the gathered tension, he groaned like a man possessed, his hand skimming down her stomach, a question in his eyes.

“Yes,” Y/N said, nodding. “Please.”

“Look at you,” he almost cooed as his fingers met the apex of her legs and swiped in between. “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

“Just for you.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me have a taste too?”

“Anything,” she moaned as he slid to his knees and his nose ran along her navel. “You can do anything you want, just as long as you do something!”

Y/N’s chest moved up and down in shallow pants as his hand grabbed her by the hips and pushed her to somewhat rest against the kitchen island, the small of her back leaning against the marble countertop while he, still fully dressed in his suit, kneeled between her legs, one of her knees now hooked over his shoulder, heel digging into his back and his mouth drifted over her pussy.

It was embarrassing, or she felt like she should feel embarrassed with how much that little motion did to her. Her hands rushed to Robby’s short tresses, nails digging into his scalp and gently tugging him closer.

“And tights? How do you feel about those?” He looked up at her. God, he looked sinful.

“Shred them.”

He did. The second she gave permission, there was a giant hole in the piece of clothing, and Robby’s mouth and her cunt had nothing in between them.

Y/N vaguely thought she heard him murmur 'I’m gonna fucking live here' before he dived in, tongue licking a long stripe from her clit, right to her entrance and back.

She forgot all about the fact she hadn’t bothered to shave, she didn’t care how the curls must be getting into his mouth, not as his fingers dug harder into her skin, as if he wanted his hands to leave permanent marks on her body and his beard scratched against the inside of her thighs just like she’d fantasized. When Robby let out a moan as she squeezed them tighter around his head, all the insecurities that still tried to assault her mind vanished.

He ate her out like it was his last meal, and she was the first of five courses. Loud. Lewd. Full of passion and need and want. God, he made her feel so wanted. One of his hands slipped up and grasped her breast, pulling her bra down by the middle to let them pop out, and one pinch of his fingers to a bud, and Y/N was buckling, coming closer and closer to an orgasm he was way too quick at getting her to.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d been the only one to make her feel even somewhat good that day, maybe it was the fact her emotions had been in a turmoil ever since she awoke with the knowledge she’d have her self-esteem destroyed bit by bit, or maybe it was the fact she’d just been helplessly in love with the man that was lapping at her pussy, that made her crest over that edge. And he hadn’t even had to use his fingers.

Her orgasm unraveled through her body like a warm wave, starting from deep in her lower belly and seeping through her veins, as Y/N sobbed out Robby’s name over and over and over again. Only when she twitched away from his tongue as it flicked against her clit, did he let go. But not fully.

She wanted to frame the image before her. If someone invented some camera as a contact lens you could put in your eye, Y/N was gonna be the first one to buy it, just so these moments didn’t live in only her brain. How he kneeled before her. How his lips and chin were covered in her slick. How he looked absolutely wrecked.

“Come here.” She extended her hand, and licked into Robby’s mouth the second he rose to his full height, his body hers for the taking. “Bedroom?”

“Fuck yes.”

By the time they managed to get themselves on his bed, stumbling and giggling along the way, she’d rid herself of the heels, though Robby had said he wanted there to be a time she wore them and only them for him. His jacket and vest were gone, bowtie slung atop the big light on the ceiling, while he’d toed his shoes off and ripped the socks like they were personally offending him. Y/N, however, disagreed because the only offensive pieces left were his suit pants and the boxers underneath as he shrugged the white shirt off.

Robby groaned when she, kneeling on the bed while he stood at the foot of it, trailed her hand below his clothing to grasp his aching cock, her mouth sucking a large and very prominent bruise on his neck.

She could feel him pulse in her palm, thick and needy with a prominent vein running along the underside. Saliva filled her mouth.

But just as she was about to dip down to undress him and have her lips close around him, Robby gently pushed against her shoulder. She lost her balance, plopping backwards onto the bed. He used it as a chance to remove those final offending pieces of clothing, both of them now naked and as close as two people could be. “Some other time, I promise.” He kissed her deep and hard as he leaned over her. “Cause if you blow me, I’ll be done in like two minutes, and that is not how quick I want this night to end. Not before I’ve gotten a chance to be inside you.”

Y/N’s hands wove around his neck, while his finger skimmed along her wet entrance, but he noticed the slight tremble in her body and removed his touch, putting his forearms by her head and looking down at her, demanding eye contact.

           “Are you okay?” He brushed his nose against hers, keeping their gazes locked. “We can stop. Right here, right now. You just say the word, and we go to sleep. Hell, I’ll drive you back to your place if you want.”

           “It’s not that,” Y/N shook her head, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “It’s just… It’s been a while… and it all feels a bit too much.”

           Robby tilted his head, trying to figure her out. “Bad much?”

           “Good much.” She allowed herself the pleasure of dragging her hands over his back and shoulders, grounding herself in the moment. “Overwhelming much. I haven’t had sex with someone I’ve had feelings for in a few years, so it’s hitting me. Hard. It’s been meaningless hookups ever since my last boyfriend, so it’s been a while since I’ve felt like this is more than just… just physical.”

           “You’re not meaningless, God, you’re not.” He shook his head, resting his forehead against hers, as a sharp pang ran through her chest at his words. “I can’t lie and say I didn’t try to make you so. At least in my head. I tried to strip you down to professionalism, but every single day you showed up, you just broke down every cage I’d put you in my brain. And then you saw me in pedes and didn’t judge… You saw me through the front I put on when I thought it’d be a better world without me in it. And now you see me still… You don’t flinch away when I have my bad moments, and you help me get through them. When you had to go on that night rotation after Ellis’ accident, it felt like half my heart was missing. That was when I knew, no matter what happened, I’d try to keep you in my life forever. In whatever form you’d allow me to have you. Coworker, friend… I dreamt about this, about more, but never truly dared to hope. So no. You are not meaningless. Not even one bit.”

           A sob tore through her chest, and Y/N pulled him down to be flush with her, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, just like he’d done to her so many times previously. “I love you so much it scares me.”

           “That’s okay,” he croaked back. “Because I love you too. We can be scared together.”

           For a moment, passion had given way to sincere trust, to love and hope of a future together. That was until she exhaled and pressed a kiss to Robby’s jugular. Feeling his pulse spike under her lips made her gently bite down, a groan ripping from his throat.

           “Fuck, we need a condom,” he muttered, reaching to the bedside table and opening the bottom drawer while Y/N gave herself over to leaving hickies across wherever her mouth could reach, and her hand had gone down to slowly jerk him off. “’M not gonna last if you keep that up.”

           “I don’t mind,” she shrugged. “As you said, we have two full nights and days to go at it.”

           His moan made her wet all over.

           Together they put on the condom before Robby took his shaft by the base and dragged it through her slick, but his eyes remained on her. “At any moment, you can tell me to stop.”

           “I won’t.” Y/N pulled him down, shifting her hips in a way his tip caught her hole. “Not because I don’t think you’d do it, because I don’t want you to.”

           Muttering 'I love you' against her lips the whole time, Robby slid inside.

           The sting was sharp at first. He wasn’t overtly long, but he was definitely thick, and they both realized that maybe next time, they’d have to fight off the haze of lust and prepare her a bit more.

           “Tell me when I can keep going.” His breathing was hard and labored, every ounce of self-restraint gathered in his body. He was barely a third way in, and Y/N’s legs were already shaking.

           Moving her hips around a bit, he slid further inside, making the two of them groan, but soon enough the pain morphed into pressure and pleasure as she settled her heels to dig into the small of his back.

           “Deeper,” she gasped. “Need you deeper.”

           When she pulled his head down to slot their lips together, he obliged her request, sinking inside inch by glorious inch until both their pelvises rested together.

           Y/N had never felt so full. Emotionally or physically. It was like there were no cracks to her, no scars or marks. It was like she was home.

           “I love you, Robby,” she murmured against his mouth. “So, fucking much.”

           “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” He responded, cupping her face to not let go of the kiss. They only broke because, unfortunately, both of them still needed to breathe. “You’re it.”

           The thought of being someone’s choice, of being Robby’s choice, made Y/N smile so wide she was afraid her cheeks would break apart. However, her smile quickly vanished once he started moving, cause fucking hell, did he know how to use his cock.

           Or maybe he was simply made for her? Maybe the reason he could find her G-spot only after three thrusts and a little rearrangement of where her legs rested around his body was because the two had been designed to come together at one point.

           His hand slid from where he’d been keeping her face close to his so he could grope at her chest, squeezing at her breasts before traveling lower and finding her clit. Y/N threw her head back as he started rubbing at the bundle of nerves, tight little circles that matched the rhythm he’d set.

           “Come on, sweetheart. I can feel you clenching. I know you wanna come.”

           “Robby,” she sobbed out his name as his mouth attached to her nipple and his teeth grazed against the peak, making the pleasure sharpen and shoot through her veins.

           Her moans and gasps turned to loud curses and groans the same way Robby’s did, as they felt their orgasms approaching. “Wanna come with you.” He kissed and bit at her neck. “Be good to me and come, sweetheart.”

           She did, because what the fuck else was Y/N supposed to do when his cock was drilling into her at a steady pace, his fingers were rubbing her clit the exact way she needed him to, and his mouth was kissing everywhere he could.

           White exploded across her closed eyes, her back arching into Robby’s body, his hand slipping under the small of it to hold her as close as possible, while he chased his own high, which came to him in a groaned-filled stutter, hips breaking their pattern.

           No small amount of pride rushed through her as he ground down, his body shaking and trembling, moans of her name echoing across her skin as he buried his sweaty face in the crook of her neck, her own nose hidden in his long ago.

           Vaguely, she heard him ask something, but it took her a while to look at him. Robby’s hand cupped her cheek, brows drawn together as worry marred his features.

           “You alright?” she read his lips more than heard the words.

           Y/N nodded, letting out a small laugh. “Fucked me so good, I can’t hear anything.”

           His face lit up at her words, and the feeling of his own joy rumbling through her seeped into her bones, her hand running up and down his back.

           With time, the ringing in her ears dissipated, and she could hear normally again, Robby muttering, 'I love you,' and 'you’re okay,' and 'I’m not going anywhere' the whole time.

           He didn’t give her much reprieve, though, seemingly dead-set on cashing in on as much time as those two days and nights would allow them. His fingers found her pussy soon enough, not before checking in if she needed some water and was actually up for more. When Y/N nodded her head, grabbing him hard by the nape of his neck and bringing his lips down, Robby seemed more than happy to delay their dinner.

           After he’d made her come one more time, so hard she’d squirted all over his hands and sheets, his mouth instantly latched onto her pussy, licking as deep as he could, only detaching once he was satisfied she’d gone through all of her aftershocks.

           When he was sure her legs would hold, he dragged her onto her knees and pressed his face between her legs, his fingers sinking inside her, scissoring and stretching her again. But this time she wanted what he’d promised she’d get to have, and with all the remaining strength in her spent body, she twisted around to face his legs and finally got her mouth on him the way she’d wanted. When Robby got close to coming, he pulled her off off his cock, flipped her back onto her back, and pushed inside right up to the hilt once more, condom packet at the ready and open in barely a moment.

           Two hours later, they were both shaking in one another’s grasp, not letting go of either, and only when Robby started goading her and reminding her of how much a UTI sucked, did Y/N, reluctantly, slide out of the bed and into the bathroom.

           A shower was much needed for them both, and when they emerged, her taking a bit more time to wash off the make-up, or whatever was left, Robby had already changed the sheets and was awaiting her, the blanket lifted for her to slide inside.

           It was the best sleep she’d ever had in her life.

           The morning rose soft and gentle like the winter outside. Y/N shifted in bed, just enough to tighten the leg she had around Robby’s hip.

           “Good morning,” his gruff, sleep-addled voice echoed around the quiet room.

           “No.”

           Robby snorted so hard he almost choked. Now that woke her up, whether she wanted to or not, just to check if her newly-gained boyfriend wouldn’t die. She eyed his face, gaze roaming over the age-lined features as he laughed. Watching Robby’s mouth tilt up in a smile did funny things to her insides.

“What?” she mumbled as he kept looking her over.

           “Nothing.” He shook his head, shifting closer to her and pressing their foreheads together. “Just that… you’re pretty great… and now my life kinda feels like it too.”

           Y/N wrinkled her nose, to which he swiftly pressed a kiss to, making her laugh. Such juxtaposition to the hot and sweltering ones he’d planted on her lips and body a few hours ago. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

           “Yeah, but I’m your fucking cheese.”

           “Yeah, you are,” she sighed and rested her cheek on his chest.

           For a while, both of them just relished in the moment, watching the snow drift behind the windows, when Y/N gathered up enough courage to rest her chin on him and looked at the man. “What did you say to her?”

           “To whom?” Robby’s brows raised as he tucked a strand of Y/H/C hair behind her ear.

           “To my mom. Before we left.”

           He huffed and contemplated for a second. “The truth. How you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and you’ve become such not because of anything they did to help you, but because you run on to spite them. That you’re brave and beautiful and have more grace than all of them combined. Your heart is unmatched, and I am the luckiest person in the world to have ever gotten the chance to know you.”

           “Robby…” A tear trickled down to her chin, and he rushed to kiss it before it disappeared.

           “I also may or may not have told her we’re never having kids. Because, God forbid, we do, and we do everything right to raise them, and yet they still grow up to be like her – huge fucking disappointments.”

           “You did not say that!” she guffawed, shifting to be on her elbow.

           Robby hummed, very evidently satisfied with himself. “Oh, yeah, I did.”

           “Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, hiding her face in his chest. “I’m actually terrified of looking at my phone.”

           “Well, I also told her how unless she wanted to apologize for all the bullshit last night, and everything they put you through these past twenty-seven years, she’d have to deal with me. And if not, then tough luck, cause I’m here to say.”

           And despite Robby’s words burrowing into her heart, despite them healing the wounds cast by her family, she knew she needed to address the larger issue at hand, which would no doubt rear its ugly head the further along they got in this relationship.

           With a steady breath, Y/N, leaving her face pressed against his shoulder, she murmured, “I know you want them. Kids, that is… I see it every time someone brings in an infant, hell, even when a teenager comes in. Your whole body just… melts… I’m not gonna be able to give that to you. I just… I can’t…”

           “Want,” Robby huffed and settled on his back, one hand behind his head, the other tight around her waist while she rubbed absentminded circles on his peck. “I want a lot of things. I want my knees not to hurt when I lift more than fifty pounds. I want to drive an F1 car without my spine shooting out my ass… Fuck, I even want a pony just because I’ve always wanted a pony.”

           “To ride?” Y/N chuckled and raised a brow, but didn’t look at him.

           “God, no. I’d never put the poor animal through something like that. Just to have.”

           “Well,” she bit on her lip, “you could. Have that.”

           “No, because most of all, I want to live a life with someone who wants me there. Who wouldn’t be afraid of the darkness that might come with. And you, even when you had nothing at stake, did that. You walked that pitch-black nothingness that’d overtaken my mind and heart and helped me get out the other side.”

           She dared a glance, and he was already staring down at her, a gentle look to his eyes.

           “Besides, I meant it when I said, I’d only ever want kids with someone who enthusiastically would want them too. And who also realized the risks that could entail. I uh...” Robby cleared his throat as she shifted, bringing Y/N closer like he was trying to protect her from the next words. As if he was afraid it would happen to her too. “It was before you started at PTMC. We had a trauma where a pregnant woman was involved. Eight months along. Came in with just a fracture to her arm, but the stress sent her into early labor… she ended up surviving and her baby too, but to get to that point, we had to give her ninety-two units of blood. She hemorrhaged. Bad. Spent two months in the ICU.” Robby dragged a hand down his face. “I’ll never forget that number. Ninety fucking two. Having kids is beautiful, but as someone who’ll never know what it’s like to have their body changed forever,  that will never have to put it through such a life-changing thing, it’d be selfish of me to ask that of you. And then post-partum? Hormonal changes? Societal pressure? No.” He shook his head. “I’m not putting you through that, especially knowing it’s not what you want in life.”

           “You’re too good to me.” Y/N sniffled into his chest, holding onto his side tighter. “I don’t think I’ll ever know what I did to deserve you, but I’m very lucky to have you.”

           “It’s very much so the other way round, sweetheart.”

           After a long moment of silence, she spoke up once more.

           “I’ve thought about adoption,” she whispered, rubbing his chest, feeling his heart thud against her fingers. It’d very quickly become her favorite lullaby. “Not babies or small kids but… but teens. The older ones, the ones that the system eats up and then just spits out at eighteen like they mean nothing.”

           Robby kissed the top of her head and buried his nose in her hair. “We have all the time in the world. We don’t need to have everything figured out. And if at some moment, we both feel like we’re ready for that, then of course. But as long as you’re there, I don’t care for much else. Let’s just see where the wind takes us.”

           Behind the windows, it fluttered big snowflakes to the ground, but in her life, she felt lucky it’d blown Michael Robinavitch in her path.

           After all, three years down the line, in front of the only people who mattered, their PTMC family, is who they vowed to love one another, until the times of sand slipped by. And when Y/N was awarded the Elizabeth Blackwell Award the next year, Robby may or may not have printed, framed, and sent her parents the picture of her on stage, a wide beaming smile on her face, and her engagement ring and wedding band on full display with a small note of only five words attached.

You never fucking broke her.

BONUS

It was Christmas Eve, and snow had covered Pittsburgh like a soft blanket. Y/N was sitting on the couch, looking over the shoulder of the sixteen-year-old girl as she showed her a TikTok of how she wanted her hair done for prom come next spring.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she pushed a pin into the hair, and Marlene winced. “Sorry, sweets.” She readjusted it and secured the strand so it wouldn't hurt the skin. “Can you show it to me from the beginning?”

“Sure,” she muttered, rewinding the video again as Y/N followed along the next steps of the tutorial. Yeah, those fucking TikTokers made it seem so easy. She’d take ten code blues over the complicated braid her kid had chosen, but that’s why they were doing a trial run months in advance.

Robby exited where he’d been napping in their bedroom, giving both of the girls a warm smile. “Am I interrupting mother-daughter bonding time?”

“No,” Marlene said without even looking up from her phone, and extended a couple of small bottles held in her hand and a thin brush. “But it can be mother-daughter-father bonding time. Paint my nails, please?”

“Sure, kid. Designs?” Ever since Marlene realized both her parents had amazing small motor skills due to them being doctors, she’d been employing Robby as her nail tech. And well, he could never say no to her. Not since they adopted the fourteen-year old girl two years prior, and a year later she called him ‘dad’ for the first time. He’d been wrapped around her manicured fingers ever since, but not before weeping for an hour on Y/N's shoulder. She'd sobbed too.

“Surprise me.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, twisting another strand of the hair and pinning it back into the bun that was slowly but surely forming into something actually beautiful. She took a glance at her husband, absolutely melting at the look on his face while he glanced at his phone, where he had an album labeled ‘Mar’s nail design inspiration pictures’, when she took note of a parcel sticking out from beside him.

“What’s that?” Y/N nudged her chin in its direction.

“Oh, nothing.” Robby shifted a bit so it was out of sight.

“Love, I thought we talked about presents. We already have everything.”

Though Robby was Jewish, he still participated in Christmas for both of his girls, just like they did for Hanukkah.

He smirked, leaning over to peck Y/N on the lips, and Marlene gagged at the display, only to get a kiss on her cheek from Robby, too. “If it’s any consolation, then it’s not for you.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Then who’s it for?”

Their Secret Santa gifting at the Pitt had happened the previous week, so everyone could receive their presents, especially those scheduled off for the holidays, and if someone from the day shift had someone from the night, and vice-versa.

“No one,” he pretty much sing-songed.

Marlene dared a look to the side and threw Y/N an unconvinced one. “He’s being shifty.”

“Very much so,” she deadpanned. “Michael. What’s going on?”

The man visibly paled. Y/N never called him his given name. The next step was his full government one, and that meant true trouble. After a moment, he sighed and huffed, dragging a hand over his face and settling deeper into the couch. Marlene nudged his knee with her elbow. “Spill, Dad.”

“Okay,” he huffed, giving his wife a soft look. “So you remember the last time we went over to your folks for the holidays?”

She snorted. “Hard to forget. As much as I’d want to.”

“Well, neither could I. And everything they said, and all that,” he threw Marlene a glance, “crap.” Their daughter rolled her eyes. “It sat there in my brain. Festering. And a few years ago when you got the Elizabeth Blackwell Award for your thesis on gender equality in emergency medicine, I may or may not have done something.”

Slowly, Y/N’s brows started to raise, the up-do on her daughter’s head long forgotten. “Something like what?”

Robby shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I may or may not have sent over a picture I took of you during the ceremony. And these last few holidays, I may or may not have done the same thing with a little 'screw you' kinda note attached.”

Marlene cackled. Half a year after her adoption, they’d explained as to why her ‘grandparents’ from Y/N’s side wouldn’t be in the picture. She’d been more than glad not to have them. “Dad, you’re so fucking petty!”

“Language, kid!”

“What?” She scoffed, turning around with a huff. “You two swear all the time! Mom’s even worse.”

“Do as we say.” Robby took one of Marlene’s hands in his, looking over her cuticles. “Not as we do.”

Y/N bit down on her lip, looking at the strands of hair she was playing with. “What picture were you gonna send now?”

“I uh...” A furious blush spread across his neck and up his face, Marlene poking him in the knee. With a resigned sigh, he took the wrapped parcel and handed it to their kid. Quickly, it was ripped open, and there was the picture.

In a beautiful black frame, it showed the three of them with Marlene at the center, where she was holding up the trophy her school’s science club with her as the leader, had gotten for their last year’s experiment. They’d gone to the nationals and received fourth place in the competition. When she looked at the moment forever frozen in time, all three of them beaming so wide, it made her heart ache. But not with pain. With pride.

“You said you added a note?” Y/N's voice was thick with emotion.

Robby’s hand gently went to swipe across her cheek where a tear had slipped down. “Yeah.”

“Can I write it this time?”

“Of course.” He kissed her on the forehead and stood up, returning a minute later with a piece of paper and a pen.

When Y/N threw a glance down where Marlene still sat with her legs crisscrossed, she felt a warm hand wrap around her ankle, squeezing it in comfort. “What’cha gonna write?”

           “I guess what I've always wanted to, but never had the courage,” she huffed, and then, in her sweeping, somehow miraculously legible handwriting, considering her occupation, covered the papers in words.

           When Robby looked down at them, a wide smile bloomed on his face.

           Go fuck yourselves.

           Signed,

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Robinavitch. MD & PHD, Senior attending of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre.

A/N: I am not caught up on ep 2 yet, but I think Dr Baran will be pissing me off with her AI bullshit 😭

also, I know this is kinda a holiday fic, but I loved writing this so much! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it :)

Sam looked up from his laptop at the rickety table, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter if it's three blocks or three miles, Nels. You know the drill. What are the rules?”

“Stay where there are people, keep my phone fully charged, don't talk to creepy guys, and if anything feels weird, use the code word,” Nelli recited in a flat, monotone voice, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can I go now? Feels like I’m in freaking jail.”

“Hey. Drop the attitude, kiddo,” Dean said, his voice instantly dropping into that firm, older-brother register that meant business. He stood up, towering over her, and deliberately reached out to messily ruffle the top of her hair, completely ruining the brushing she’d just spent ten minutes on.

“Dean! Stop it!” she snapped, batting his large hand away and taking a sharp step back, her temper flaring. “Seriously, you ruin everything!”

Dean didn't laugh this time. His green eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching slightly as he pointed his finger directly at her face. “Watch your mouth, Nels. I mean it. You've been snapping at us since we pulled into this town, and my patience is running on fumes. You want to go hang out like a regular kid? Fine. But you don't talk to me or Sam like we’re your punchlines. You got me?”

Nelli bit the inside of her cheek, her chest heaving with a mix of embarrassment and sudden, unexplained irritation that made her want to scream. “Yeah. Whatever. Got it.”

“Say it like you mean it,” Dean pressed, his voice stern but grounded.

“I got it, Dean,” she muttered, looking down at her sneakers.

“Alright,” Sam cut in gently, trying to defuse the tension before it blew up. He gave her a soft, encouraging smile. “Have fun. Be back by five, okay?”

Nelli didn't answer. She just snatched her keys off the nightstand, spun on her heel, and slammed the heavy motel door behind her, the glass rattling in its frame.

The diner had been fine, but by the time four o'clock rolled around, Nelli was exhausted. Sarah had been nice enough, but the constant effort of trying to act like a normal, carefree teenager when her entire life was lived out of a duffel bag felt draining. Her lower back was aching with a dull, heavy throb, and a strange, cramping pain was beginning to knot up her stomach.

She walked back to the motel, her feet dragging. She felt a sudden wave of guilt for snapping at Dean earlier; her mood had been entirely out of her control all day, swinging from furious to miserable for absolutely no reason.

She unlocked the door to Room 14, fully expecting to see Dean watching a wrestling fight on the tiny TV and Sam drowning in research.

“Hey,” Nelli called out, closing the door behind her. “I'm back.”

Silence greeted her. The motel room was completely empty.

Dean’s jacket was gone from the back of the chair, and Sam’s laptop was shut on the table. A small, familiar yellow sticky note was left on the wooden dresser in Sam’s neat handwriting: Had to run to the hardware store for salt and check a lead at the county records. Back in an hour. Lock the door.

Nelli groaned, tossing her jacket onto the bed. The cramping in her stomach suddenly spiked, a sharp, twisting ache that made her double over slightly. Wincing, she rushed into the bathroom, figuring the greasy diner fries were just messing with her stomach.

She pulled down her jeans, and the second she looked down, her entire world came to a sudden, terrifying halt.

Bright, dark crimson blood stained her underwear.

Nelli’s breath hitched in her throat, her heart instantly hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her mind raced through every horrible thing she’d ever heard about hunts, cursed objects, and internal injuries. Was she bleeding out? Did something curse her at the diner? Was she dying?

Panic, cold and absolute, washed over her. She scrambled for a handful of toilet paper, trying to wipe it away, but there was more. The sharp pain in her abdomen twisted again, and a sob tore out of her throat.

“What’s happening…” she whispered, her voice breaking into a high, frightened cry as she stared at the tiles. She was completely alone in a dingy bathroom, and the only person who had ever kept her safe from the terrors of the world wasn't there.

The heavy rattle of the Impala's engine pulling into the gravel lot outside cut through the quiet room, followed a moment later by the loud, familiar clatter of the motel door swinging open.

“Nels? You back?” Dean’s voice boomed through the space, carrying a paper bag that smelled strongly of greasy takeout and onions. “We brought burgers. Get your butt out here before Sam eats yours.”

Nelli was still sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, her knees pulled tight against her chest, her face buried in her denim jacket to muffle her crying. At the sound of his voice, a sharp wave of relief crashed over her, but the sheer panic kept her entirely paralyzed.

“De…” she tried to call out, but the word caught in her throat, coming out as a tiny, pathetic squeak. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice through the knot of terror. “Dean?”

She didn’t even know why she called him, she wasn’t going to let him in but just knowing that he was there, and she wasn’t alone, calmed her nerves.

In the main room, Dean froze mid-stride, his green eyes instantly darting toward the closed bathroom door. He’d spent fourteen years tracking the slightest shift in his sister's tone, and the fragile, shaky vibration in her voice right now set off every hunter instinct he had. He tossed the takeout bag onto the table, his posture instantly going rigid.

“Nels?” Dean walked over to the bathroom, stopping right outside the door, his hand hovering near the knob. “Hey. Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah,” she choked out, trying desperately to sound normal, but it ended up sounding high-pitched and completely breathless. “Just... give me a minute.”

Sam stepped up behind Dean, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked at the closed door. “Nelli? You're not sick, are you? Did something happen at the diner?”

“No! I'm fine!” she yelled back, her voice cracking under the stress. “Just go away!”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He didn't like the sound of this at all. If she’d been targeted by something supernatural, or if she was hurting, he needed to know now. He knocked firmly on the wood, his voice dropping into that low, no-nonsense, commanding tone he used when there was absolutely no room for arguments.

“Eleanor. Unlock the door and get out here right now. I'm counting to three.”

The use of her full name did it. The lock clicked, and the door swung open a mere couple of inches.

Dean didn't wait. He pushed the door the rest of the way, his eyes instantly scanning her for a hex mark, a wound, or an injury. But the second the space opened up, Nelli didn't say a word. She lunged forward, burying her face straight into the rough canvas of his shirt, her small hands clutching the fabric of his jacket with a terrifying, white-knuckled grip. She was shaking violently, her tears instantly soaking through his sleeve.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Dean’s sternness completely evaporated, replaced by a sudden, protective panic. He hooked his large arms securely around her shoulders, anchoring her against his chest as he looked around the tiny bathroom, trying to spot the threat. “Kiddo, look at me. What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did someone touch you?”

Sam was hovering at the doorway, his face pale as he looked at how frantic she was. “Nels, talk to us. What happened?”

Nelli just buried her face deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck, her breath hitching in a ragged, miserable gasp. The shame and the sheer terror of what she’d seen were fighting for dominance in her chest.

“I'm... I'm bleeding, De,” she choked out, her voice a tiny, muffled whisper against his collarbone.

Dean went entirely rigid, his heart hitting his ribs like a sledgehammer. His hands automatically moved to check her sides, his voice sharp with terror. “Where? Where are you bleeding, Nels? Did you get cut? Did someone follow you?”

“No!” she sobbed, pulling back just enough to look at him, her face completely flushed and wet with tears. She looked incredibly young in that moment, her green eyes wide with a desperate, primitive fear. “In the... in the bathroom. On my clothes. There's blood, Dean. Lots of it. I don't know why, my stomach hurts so bad, and I think... I think I'm dying. I think something's wrong with me.”

Dean stared at her, his brain frantically trying to piece the clues together—the moodiness all morning, the dull back ache she’d mentioned, the sudden cramping, and now this.

Slowly, the frantic hunter panic in Dean's chest hit a sudden, screeching halt. A completely different kind of realization washed over his face, his expression freezing into a mix of utter bewilderment and profound, older-brother awkwardness. He cut a wide-eyed, slightly panicked look over his shoulder at Sam.

Sam’s jaw was slightly slack, his eyes widening as the pieces clicked for him, too. He took a cautious half-step back into the bedroom, rubbing the back of his neck, looking entirely out of his depth.

Dean looked back down at Nelli, who was still looking up at him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. He let out a long, slow breath, his large hand coming up to gently smooth back her messy hair, his voice dropping into a soft, grounding rumble.

“Hey. Look at me, rugrat. Look at my face,” Dean murmured, his touch incredibly tender. “You’re not dying. I promise you, you’re completely fine.”

"You're not dying, Nels. I swear to you," Dean repeated, his voice solid and completely steady, though inside, his brain was scrambling at a hundred miles an hour. He cleared his throat, trying to force down the massive wall of older-brother awkwardness currently choking him. “Look, it’s just... it’s a girl thing, alright? It means you’re growing up. It’s called a period.”

Nelli blinked up at him, her tear-stained face scrunching into a look of pure confusion and lingering horror. “A... a what? Dean, I'm bleeding! How is that normal?”

“It just is, kiddo,” Dean grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his face definitely heating up a little. He kept his arm securely wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her grounded. “It happens to every girl. It just means your body is doing what it’s supposed to do. You're completely healthy, Nels. I promise.”

From the doorway, Sam finally cleared his throat, his face a sympathetic shade of pink. “Yeah, Nels. Dean’s right. It’s completely normal. You’re okay.”

Nelli looked between the two of them, her breathing finally starting to slow down from the absolute panic, though her stomach still gave a nasty, painful twist. “So... I'm not sick?”

“Not even a little bit,” Dean murmured, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He pointed toward the shower. “Alright, here's what we're gonna do. You’re gonna go take a warm shower and get changed into some fresh clothes. Strip those off and put 'em in the sink, I'll handle the laundry part. Go on.”

Nelli nodded miserably, sniffling as she stepped back into the bathroom.

The second the bathroom door clicked shut, Dean spun around and glared at Sam, his eyes wide with a silent, frantic panic. “Sam. Supplies. Now.”

“On it,” Sam said, already reaching for his jacket and the car keys.

“Don't go to a store, man, she’s in there right now,” Dean whispered urgently, gesturing to the door. “Go to the front desk. Hit up the vending machines or ask the manager’s wife. Just get whatever they have.”

Sam didn't need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and sprinted out the motel door, his long legs eating up the pavement as he dashed toward the main office.

Dean let out a long, heavy breath, leaning his back against the wall next to the bathroom door. He could hear the shower water start to rumble against the old pipes, punctuated by Nelli’s occasional, quiet hiccups. He hated this for her. He hated that she had to go through regular, scary teenager milestones in a dingy, drafty motel room with two brothers who knew way more about silver bullets than feminine hygiene.

Less than five minutes later, the motel door burst open again. Sam rushed in, slightly out of breath, holding a small plastic grocery bag tightly in his hand. “Got 'em,” Sam whispered, handing the bag over. “The lady at the desk gave me a handful of stuff from her own stash.”

“Good. Nice work, Sasquatch,” Dean muttered, taking the bag. He knocked gently on the bathroom wood. “Hey, Nels. Open up a crack.”

The door opened just enough for Nelli to peek her wet face out, a towel wrapped tightly around her frame. Dean awkwardly thrust the plastic bag into her hands, looking absolutely anywhere but at her. “Here. Sam got this from the front desk. There’s... pads and stuff in there. You figure out how to use 'em, or you need Sam to look up a manual on his computer?”

“Dean!” Sam hissed from the kitchen area, his face turning bright red.

A tiny, breathless watery giggle finally broke through Nelli’s misery. “I know how to do it, idiot. I can figure it out…” she mumbled the last part under her breath.

“Yeah, well, don't scare me like that again,” Dean grumbled, though a massive wave of relief washed over him at the sound of her laugh. “Get dressed.”

When Nelli finally walked back out into the main bedroom, she looked entirely exhausted. She was swallowed up in her oversized gray sweatpants and one of Dean's old, soft flannels, her hair damp and clinging to her neck. The cramping in her lower abdomen was still a dull, heavy throb, making her drag her feet.

Dean was already sitting on the edge of his bed, having cleared off his shotgun parts. He held up a thick, warm mug of hot chocolate Sam had made using the kitchenette microwave. “C'mere, rugrat.”

Nelli didn't hesitate. She crawled straight onto the mattress, curling her legs up tightly against her chest and burying her face right back into the crook of Dean’s neck, the heavy mug clutched between her small hands. The hot ceramic felt good against her shivering fingers.

Dean wrapped his large, calloused arms around her, securely anchoring her against his chest. He began to rock her back and forth in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, his large hand coming up to gently, rhythmically stroke through her damp hair.

A stray, exhausted tear slipped down Nelli’s cheek, her voice muffled against his flannel shirt. “My stomach hurts, De.”

“I know, kiddo. I know,” Dean whispered, his voice dropping into that deep, soothing rumble that always acted like a security blanket for her. He pressed a long, tender kiss to the top of her damp head, his touch incredibly careful. “S'alright. The hot cocoa will help. There’s no need to cry anymore, Nels. Me and Sam, we got you. We’re right here.”

Beside the bed, Sam silently dragged a chair over, setting down a bottle of ibuprofen and a fresh bottle of water on the nightstand, giving her a soft, encouraging smile.

Nelli closed her eyes, her breathing finally leveling out into a calm, steady rhythm as she melted into the solid, unyielding heat of her older brother’s arms, the scary world outside fading away into the quiet safety of the room.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this!!! I actually need more requests like this, with teenage Nelli, cause they’re fun to write

Every tone shift.

Every sigh.

Every pause that lasted a second too long.

Sometimes Alysa forgot how observant you really were.

Especially during skating season.

Because after returning to competitive skating, Alysa's life became chaotic again quickly.

Training.

Travel.

Media.

Recovery.

Sponsors.

Then Stars on Ice rehearsals layered on top of everything else.

Some days she came home physically exhausted.

And while she still loved you endlessly-

She occasionally got things wrong.

Like forgetting to warn you before changing plans suddenly.

Or accidentally overwhelming you after long practices because she talked too loudly without realizing it.

And every time she messed up, Alysa apologized immediately.

But lately she'd started looking tired afterward.

Not annoyed.

Not angry.

Just tired.

Unfortunately-

Your brain interpreted exhaustion differently.

Because your entire life, people eventually got tired of accommodating you.

Teachers.

Friends.

Family.

Especially your family.

The second they found out you liked girls, things got worse somehow.

And eventually the distance between you and them became permanent.

So now every tiny shift in Alysa terrified you.

Because deep down, part of you constantly waited for people to realize loving you was too difficult.

And lately?

You thought Alysa was realizing it too.

The worst part was that Alysa genuinely didn't notice what was happening.

Because in her mind, she was simply overwhelmed balancing everything.

Not falling out of love.

Never that.

But one bad week turned into another.

Then another.

And suddenly every interaction felt heavier.

One night after practice, Alysa accidentally snapped while trying to help you through sensory overload after the grocery store became too overwhelming.

Not cruelly.

Not aggressively.

Just exhausted.

"Baby, I'm trying, okay?"

The second the words left her mouth, Alysa regretted them instantly.

Because your face fell immediately.

Like something inside you cracked quietly.

"I know," you whispered softly.

Alysa immediately moved closer.

"No no, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay."

But it clearly wasn't.

And somehow that hurt worse.

Afterward Alysa apologized repeatedly.

You told her it was fine.

But your brain wouldn't let it go.

Because now every exhausted sigh sounded loaded.

Every tired expression looked painful.

And you noticed all of it.

Too much of it.

You always noticed too much.

Eventually the thought settled painfully into your chest:

I'm becoming too much for her.

So one evening while Alysa was still at practice, you packed a small suitcase quietly.

Not much.

A few clothes.

Your headphones.

Your favorite oversized sweater.

You stared at the apartment afterward feeling numb.

Alysa's skate guards sat near the doorway.

One of her hoodies still draped over the couch.

Your favorite mug beside the sink.

You cried while leaving.

Not loudly.

Just silently.

Because despite what your brain kept telling you-

You loved her more than anything.

You just thought leaving might make her life easier.

Unfortunately, you had nowhere to go.

Your family barely spoke to you anymore.

Most old friendships disappeared years ago.

So eventually your feet carried you somewhere familiar instead.

The flower patch.

Hidden deep in a quiet section of the park hardly anyone visited.

You discovered it months ago during a bad sensory day.

Wildflowers everywhere.

Soft wind.

No loud people.

No overwhelming noise.

Just quiet enough to feel safe instead of lonely.

So now you sat there curled beneath a tree with your suitcase beside you while night slowly settled around the park.

Meanwhile across town, Alysa finally got home around 10 PM completely exhausted from practice.

The second she opened the apartment door-

Something felt wrong.

It was too quiet.

Painfully quiet.

Even when you slept, you always kept something playing softly in the background.

Music.

Rain sounds.

A TV show.

Anything.

But tonight?

Nothing.

Alysa's stomach dropped instantly.

"Baby?"

No answer.

She checked the bedroom first.

Then the bathroom.

Then finally noticed the half-empty closet.

And the missing suitcase.

Panic hit immediately.

Not anxiety.

Not concern.

Panic.

"No no no no-"

Alysa grabbed her phone instantly.

Multiple calls.

Straight to voicemail.

Texts after texts after texts.

Where are you?

please answer

baby im serious please answer me

im sorry if i upset you

please just tell me youre okay

Nothing.

Alysa felt physically sick.

Because suddenly every exhausted moment replayed inside her head all at once.

Every sigh.

Every missed cue.

Every time she looked too tired.

"Oh my god," she whispered shakily.

Then immediately grabbed her keys again.

She ignored how badly her body hurt from practice.

Ignored exhaustion completely.

And drove everywhere she could think of.

Your favorite coffee shop.

The bookstore.

The quiet convenience store you liked.

Nothing.

By the time Alysa pulled into the park parking lot nearly an hour later, desperation clawed painfully at her chest.

Please be here.

Please.

Then finally-

She saw you.

Curled quietly near the flower patch beneath dim moonlight.

Safe.

Relief hit Alysa so hard she almost cried immediately.

You looked up hearing footsteps approach.

The second you saw Alysa, guilt flooded your face instantly.

"Alysa-"

Before you could say anything else, Alysa dropped to her knees beside you and pulled you into her arms so fast it almost startled you.

"Oh my god," she whispered shakily into your shoulder. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

And that was when you realized-

She'd been crying.

You pulled back slightly in surprise.

"Alysa..."

"I thought something happened to you."

Her voice cracked badly on the last word.

You stared at her silently.

Then quietly-

"I thought you were getting tired of me."

Alysa froze instantly.

"What?"

Your hands twisted nervously in your lap.

"You always look exhausted trying to help me lately," you admitted softly. "And I know I'm difficult sometimes and-"

"Hey," Alysa interrupted immediately.

Firm.

Gentle.

"Don't do that."

You looked down instead.

"But it's true."

"No," Alysa said quickly. "I'm tired because skating is exhausting sometimes. Not because of you."

You blinked uncertainly.

Alysa moved closer carefully.

"Baby, I need you to listen to me okay?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"I'm still learning," Alysa admitted honestly. "And yeah sometimes I mess things up. Sometimes I get overwhelmed balancing everything."

Her eyes softened painfully.

"But none of that means I don't want you."

Your throat tightened immediately.

"I just thought..." you whispered shakily. "Eventually you'd realize loving me is too hard."

Alysa looked heartbroken hearing that.

Then gently, she grabbed your hands.

"You are not a burden to me."

Tears filled your eyes instantly.

"You don't have to leave every time you think you're making my life harder," Alysa whispered softly. "You're my favorite part of my life."

That sentence shattered something painful inside your chest.

Because she sounded so sincere.

So certain.

Alysa leaned her forehead against yours gently.

"I need you to tell me when your brain starts lying to you like this," she whispered.

You laughed weakly through tears.

"My brain lies a lot."

"Okay," Alysa said softly. "Then we'll fight it together."

Together.

Not alone.

Not abandoned.

Together.

The wind moved softly through the flower patch around you while Alysa held your hands carefully like something precious.

And for the first time in weeks-