#pitt

Whitaker's hand hesitated in the air like they were in class. “Well I think by casual she means-”

“I know what casual means, Fuckle-berry,” said Santos quickly. “But it was casual now it's just weird.”

You nodded along, humming.

She groaned, hands running through her hair in frustration. “I don't get it!”

You took a long gulp of your wine.

“How do you handle it?” Trinity asked, arms wide in question at you.

“Me?”

“Yeah, how do you and Robby do casual?”

“Oh- we... it's- um-” you stumbled over your words, hoping that if you let it up long enough she'd take it back and start on her problems again. She didn't and she stood in front of you and Whitaker, waiting for an explanation.

The whole thing between you and Robby had started about the same time Santos and Garcia started. In an awkward confrontation that was you and Trinity bumping into each other in your shared bathroom, both your hairs messed up and both supporting bruises suspiciously in the shape of lips on your necks.

When you returned to your room you and Robby waited eagerly to see who would flee Santos's room. Neither too shocked to find Garcia.

“It's um?” Trinity asked.

“It's going,” you said into your wine glass, finishing it and pouring in more. The truth was for a while things had been odd, on your end more so.

Casual was a label you thought you could do, that when Robby said to you a week after sleeping together, his sheets over the both of your bodies that he liked keeping it simple. Sex. Release. You thought you could do it.

Almost three months since then and you were regretting it because every time you saw doctors eyes lingering over Robby, every time you heard his 'seven-week rule' and every time you saw happy couples fawning over each other in the ED your stomach twisted.

You didn't realise you wanted that until it was dangled in front of you and snatched away all in the same minute.

Trinity's brows rose. “Oh?”

You looked to where Whitaker was next to you, hoping for sympathy. You only found curious eyes. “It's just different than before.”

“Different how?” asked Dennis.

“Is it still casual?”

You scoffed, mumbling under your breath. “Yeah to him.”

“You want to be more?”

You didn't know if she was accusing but your room-mates expecting eyes on you heated your body in shame and embarrassment. “And you don't with Garcia?"

“Ok, enough!” suddenly Whitaker stood up. “The two of you, we need to sort this out.”

With a vacant seat next to you Trinity plopped herself down and you gave her your wine. You just decided to take the bottle.

“I cannot stand it anymore, okay! The two of you, we're gonna change this,” he said. “Trin- no more pining and waiting for Garcia to call at like one am.”

She was wanting to retort but only folded her arms over her chest as he carried on.

“And you-” he focused on you. “Need to stop crying over Robby. You guys can do better.”

“Yeah in a world where we're not working twelve hour shifts five days a week,” you said. The idea of casual hook ups wasn't anything new to the ED, not even the hospital. It was easy way of escape without the pressure of dating when all their time was spent saving lives or charting about saving lives or studying how to save lives.

On the coffee table in front of you Trinity's phone pinged and she reached for it like it was seconds away from self-destructing.

She tucked her phone into her chest to read the text before slamming it back down.

You caught a glance at the words and the contact. Can't make it tonight, I'll hit you up tomorrow- G

“You're gonna leave them,” he said.

You and Trinity sat up. “What?”

“No!”

There was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Okay- I take it back,” he said, surrendering. “Then how about give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“Their medicine?” you asked.

Whitaker gently nudged the empty glasses and cans of beer aside, perching on the edge of the coffee table, appealing to the two of you. “How many times have they cancelled plans, or said you couldn't come over to ask you to come over two hours later?”

You hadn't realised how perceptive he was.

“Now, make it so you guys call the shots. They want to come round, you say no.”

The idea was new to you. You'd always wanted Robby. You spent half your spare time wanting him and the other half having sex with him. You'd never even wanted to say no.

“So then we what, don't have sex?” asked Santos.

“You will,” he said. “You create distance, get them wanting and crying or what-whatever and then they'll realise they've messed up.”

You thought we was giving them too much credit.

Santos chuckled. “Huckleberry, are you telling us to play hard to get?”

He thought about it, eyes moving as if he was calculating it. “Yes!”

That's how plan 'hard to get' started. It was agreed you and Santos, the next time Garcia and Robby asked you to come over you'd say no.

Easier in practise when you work with them.

The next day was a slower day, un-usual in that sense. It meant everyone had more time to linger around each other.

“And so I said to him- officer-” said Myrna, lying on the bed between you and Robby. She'd seizure, hurt her leg and needed it disinfected and cleaned- not for the first time in her life. There was a mix of glass and gravel that needed plucking out and apparently the attending of the ED had nothing better to do that join you in the task. “What would you have done if you caught your third husband eating out another woman?”

“And did he say shoot him?” asked Robby. He was bent over the same leg as you, your heads so close you were either gonna head butt or kiss. Not likely over the state of her leg.

“No, he didn't say anything, he just arrested me!”

Robby hummed, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Imagine that.”

“You know Myrna sometimes I can't tell if all these stories are true,” you said, taking a small bit of glass and adding it to the pile you'd already created.

“Oh they're all true, honey, I never lie. Unlike Mark that two faced bastard.”

“Which one was Mark?” you asked.

“The fourth husband. Good body and shit everything else!” she said with a wheeze. Abruptly she grabbed your hand. “Are you single?”

Robby glanced up at you, creases of amusement at the corner of his eyes.

You looked away first. “Why, you asking me out?”

“If you're single, stay single!” she said. “Men, all they are are liars! Lying bastards! And babies! I hardly even shot the guy!”

“Am I so bad, Doctor?” asked Robby looking over the frames of his glasses at you.

Was he so bad? No. He was short-tempered sometimes, moody, didn't accept help from anyone. But you knew he could be gentle, you knew his true belly laugh and the smile he gave at mornings when you were still in bed. You just wish you knew if he ever saw himself staying in that bed a little longer, if he ever wanted to make breakfast and take the day together, stealing moments throughout.

“No,” you said, looking back down to her leg that was almost clean. “You're not.”

Myrna was oddly silent but you could see her head moving between the two of you. “Don't go there sweetheart,” she said, a word of warning. “This one might look fun but he's all danger and heartbreak.”

“Me? No,” said Robby with an air of un-care. “I'm a teddy bear.”

Five minutes later you and Robby were instructing Perlah wrapping her leg before throwing off your gloves and leaving her to it.

“How many husbands you think Myrna had?” he asked.

“Oh there's no telling,” you replied, fetching her chart to finish off the notes. At some point someone had put a star next to her name, as if she was VIP.

Robby leant next to you, scanning around the ED. “Any plans tonight?”

“On a Wednesday? Nop.”

“Wanna come over?”

There was an abrupt and loud clear of a throat.

You hadn't realised Whitaker was there but he was watching the two of you, closely. When you met his eyes he gave a small subtle shake of his head.

Robby looked. “You got a cough, Whitaker?”

He cleared his throat, sliding down in his chair. “No.”

The agreement. It was all fine in practise but how were you supposed to say no when you just said you had no plans and you really wanted to have sex with him! It was the glasses, you were sure that was what did it. The way he pulled them on and pulled them off, the focus it gave him and the way they slipped down his nose.

“So, tonight?” he asked again, voice low.

Only a few people knew, like your room-mates and you were sure others had guessed. Robby wanted to keep it private. Or a secret, you'd never asked for clarification.

You caught Whitakers gaze on yours, watchful. He didn't say anything but you wondered if he'd be disappointed. Would you even be disappointed in yourself? “I can't tonight.”

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Okay.”

He didn't sound annoyed. He didn't sound anything. It was impossible to tell.

“Yeah, we just- there's this thing-”

“Thought you had no plans?” he asked, an almost amused rise in his brows.

Ah. “It's like- not a plan- just a- a room mate thing. You know?”

Robby looked to Whitaker as if to confirm.

He nodded. “Yeah! Every Wednesday. We watch films.”

“Films,” you confirm.

“And talk.”

“We talk.”

Robby nodded. “Sounds thrilling.”

“Robby!” Dana called. “Got a trauma, woman in her thirties. Five minutes.”

“Got it," he said but he was still slumping over the counter. He took his time moving, stretching up till his shirt rode up enough to expose that slither of skin that held so many promises. “Some other time then.” His hand ghosted the small of your back before he disappeared.

You watched him go, realising you wouldn't spend the night buried in his bored but sleepless and restless.

Whitaker replaced Robby at your side. “See? Doesn't that feel good?”

You answered truthfully. “No.”

That night you, Santos and Whitaker sulked on the sofa, face masks over your faces with a bowl of popcorn left on the table and a shitty movie filling the silence.

Your phone lay face up with nothing from Robby and from Trinity's expression you figured she'd had nothing either.

You'd been to the bathroom once, took your phone with you and debated texting him but you never got that far. You only flicked through texts, casual one's at first. Small 'Are you coming over?' or 'You left your shirt at mine.' There were some dotted from him, on times you were both too busy to meet where things got more... riskier. His texts started simple but you could always catch on to his wants, leading his want.

Things like 'Thought about you today,' or 'you looked good today,' but he never just complimented you for the sake of it.

The texts didn't help so you turned your phone off and re-joined the two all the while your head and heart were in bed with Robby.

The next day passed like another dry spell.

It was busy- too make up for the quiet day beforehand. You didn't have time to greet Robby before being thrown into the chaos from a pile up on the highway. All day your bodies shuffled past each other, his hands lingering on your arms when he passed or always standing next to you in trauma.

It felt something like punishment.

Or a test.

By Friday you were crawling out of your skin, still dealing with the ramifications of the last two days. You hadn't even seen that Robby had text you the night before, so exhausted from work you crashed only spotting his name on your phone the morning you woke from the blare of your alarm.

“You're avoiding me,” he said, kneeling at the computer you typed furiously at to get your charting down. It was a casual move he used, usually un-tying and re-tying his shoes. This time, he simply knelt, seemingly done with pretence.

“What? No.”

“I've barely seen you the last few days," he said, wetting his lips. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no, I've just been super busy,” you said, tapping on the computer.

Robby shuffled next to you. His hand laid next to yours. He didn't take your hand or stop you but his fingers fidgeted like he didn't know what else to do with himself. “Did I do something?”

You looked down at him, spotting the crease between his brows. “No.”

It was the closest you'd got to seeing him vulnerable.

“So tonight?” he asked. “Feel like I'm losing my damn mind.” His finger was light as it traced your hand, slowly drawing circles.

Tasting Robby was like the first sip of alcohol. It always left you wanting me. Sweet. Bitter. Whatever. You were just left wanting and nothing else, which was why you went crawling back every time. Why saying no had never crosse your mind before. Why the smallest touch from his hand was leaving you in shivers.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can't tonight-”

Robby smirked, breathing out a puff of air.

“I would,” you said quickly, turning in your chair to face him. “Believe me, I would, it's just... Trinity is going through some stuff and I just- I don't want to leave her alone, you know.”

It was the truth. Trinity was taking Garcia's silence worse than you or Dennis had anticipated. You knew there was more going on, you only wanted to be there to help her.

Robby perked. “You need me to speak to her?”

“No, no, it's just stuff. She'll be okay I just, want to be safe.”

He nodded but his finger fell from your hand. “Okay.”

“Doctor Robinavitch!” his name was called by the familiar dread of Gloria.

He sighed under his breath as he pushed himself up. “Oh so help me, God.”

By Saturday you were sure Robby thought you were lying and sort out to punish you. He was practically glued at your side all day long. He didn't ask to see you, didn't put his lips near you. But he lingered.

“Okay we don't have a lot of time, there's a lot of bleeding,” said Robby in the face of a trauma, looming over you. “We'll do a Hilar flip.”

“A Hilar flip, are you serious?” said Trinity.

“No other choice.”

You gulped, staring down at the bleeding and misplaced lung. “I've never done one of them before.”

“I'll talk you through it, we'll go easy,” he said, coming at your side. “You're gonna rotate the lung one-eighty, very slow. Very gentle.”

Perhaps it shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. The way his chest heaved against your back, his arm stretching along yours to hold your hand and guide it through the blood to his lung. His face was concentrated next to yours but his breath was hot on your cheek and breathless.

“Go slow.... go slow. Easy.... gentle.... just like that, there we go,” he uttered against your ear.

“Blood loss is slowing down.”

“There we go, you got it,” he mumbled as you slotted it back into its place. “Okay-” Robby moved on like your whole body wasn't trembling. You had to carry on trying to save the guys life after it, like you weren't picturing his entire body draped over yours, whispering filthy things in your ears.

“Thought I was watching a porno there,” said Santos as you all fled the room when the guy was stable.

“Jesus-” you caught your breath, throwing off the gloves and running your hands through your hair, trying to get some air to your neck that sweat.

Santos chuckled to herself. “So does Doctor Robby talk you through it?”

“Trin-” you snap.

“Does he praise you? Is that the kind of thing you're into.”

You didn't respond, hiding in the bathroom to throw cold water onto your face and calm the rush of blood but you could hear Santos outside the door. 'This is a teaching hospital!' she teased.

It became a thing you had to do, get away from him. You couldn't be distracted when dealing with patients. It was bad enough working with him when all you could think about was fucking him!

But Robby seemed to insist in helping you.

“Gaping wounds like this, under the skin we use sub-Q to bring it together,” he instructed as started the stitching for a mans wound on his leg. It was just like anything else, hardly a teaching wound when you knew how to do it. As it was under tissue and there was just no other nurse around Robby insisted.

“Five-O under skin, three-O after that,” he said.

“You think you could show me?”

You both knew you didn't need to be shown but Robby still gave you a small smile and sat on the stall, coming close to you till his meaty thigh was against your own. His hands- though gloved as yours were- still grazed yours as he took the instruments to do it.

“Guide it through... it's finer so you want to extra gentle... lotta care...”

You hummed but you couldn't say you were watching it with keen eyes. You weren't watching the way the stitches came together just the way his hands flexed, his fingers moved.

“Start deep... all the way in... bury the knot in... yeah, see how it comes together just like that?”

You nodded with an absent mind.

Robby held the equipment out to you. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. Maybe you should have paid more attention.

He all but shoved them into your hand. “You're a big girl, you got it.”

Santos's voice played it your head. Were you into this?

With a breath you steadied yourself and went in. As he had before Robby leant over you, his body practically weighing you down.

You took the thread under the skin, pulling together just like he had.

“Bit deeper-” Robby's hands guided your arms. They were as light as a feather at your elbows before slowly sliding down your arms with a firmer hold, leading the threads.

You remembered his tight hold on you when he wanted you in place on the bed, when he was was dragging clothes off your body or wrapping a hand around your neck-

Robby called your name, watching you expectantly. His eyes were softened at the edges but they grew darker, the smallest bit of a smirk at the corner of his lips. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Right... sorry-” you went as deep as he instructed, knowing his face was concentrated on you and your hands.

“Do you want me to leave?” asked the patient.

If he could leave his leg and leave it would've been great.

“We'll get you out of here in no time,” said Robby.

You'd thought that maybe the stitching at taken so long it was almost time to leave. Maybe you could talk to Whitaker and Santos about this hard to get thing. It was only eleven and you had more than six hours left with situations that constantly brought you and Robby together. Even when it didn't, there he was, whispering words of encouragement.

“You got this... nice and easy.... doing really good there...”

Or the simple phrase that had you hiding in the bathroom for five minutes.

“Good girl.”

When the end of the day came you ran out of there, gasping in air and rushing back back to your place.

“Hey,” you greeted walking through the door.

Trinity was already there, looking like she was ready to leave, jacket thrown over her scrubs she hadn't changed out of even though she finished an hour before you. “Hey.”

“Where's Huckleberry?”

“Oh he's at Amy's tonight.”

You scoffed. “Woah. What a speech about doing better and playing hard to get but as soon as the chance comes to play farm. So, movie tonight? I can order pizza?”

“Actually, I'm just on my way out too,” she said. “Garcia called.”

You slumped. Your entire body slumped. Your heart gave up. “What? I thought we all made a deal?”

“We did, I played hard to get now she wants to see me,” she said.

“I haven't seen Robby in three days!”

“So go to his, get dicked down, girl,” she said, moving past you with a breeze. “I'm sorry, we can talk about how much of a bitch I am when I'm back from having the best sex yet! Later!”

She was out the door before you could chastise her. You shut it after her, falling upon it.

You'd ran from the ED to stay strong, to avoid another interaction with Robby that would have you climbing his bones in an empty room. You'd happily have done it with the teasing he'd subjected you to all day. For your friends and the promise you'd made you remained strong.

You'd never do that again.

Saturday night after the longest shift of your life and you had the place to yourself. It was rare. Either Denis or Trinity were home or you were spending the night at Robby's.

Your phone was heavy in your pocket.

Call him.

But the problem still lied un-answered. You were still at Robby's beck and call, begging for his attention. Begging him to be hard thinking about you so he could fuck you into the mattress to be professional the net day and treat you like you were just another MR.

You didn't want special treatment so to say, didn't want him to give you the easy patients or get you into the traumas more. You just wanted a smile, or a glimpse of .... love.

Maybe your friends were okay with what they had. You weren't.

You turned your phone off for the night and stripped from your scrubs, changing into a large shirt and blasting music Trin hated and Denis claimed to hate (but you'd heard him playing your playlist in the shower). For a crazy night alone you caught up on washing several pairs of scrubs and anything else, cleaned out the freezer leaving you barren of anything to eat. Maybe you'd even iron some normal clothes-

That's at least what you were thinking when there was a knock at the door.

You'd hoped it was Denis or Trin coming back, tails between their legs, keys forgotten.

Robby stood on the other side of the door.

You stood, frozen, shocked to see him there. He was just as still, waiting with raised brows. “Doctor Robby. Is everything okay?”

His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his scrubs only slightly dirtied from the day. But his eyes were alive and his body didn't sag with exhaustion like usual. His eyes darted back behind you. “Can I come in?”

You held open the door, closing it slowly behind you.

Robby had only been to your place once before. He looked the open living space open with interest. Typically your meet ups were at his, on account he lived alone and his bed was much nicer to be down on than yours.

“Er- Whitaker and Santos aren't home, if- if this is a hospital thing.”

“It's not,” he said, lowering his bag at the sofa.

“Oh?”

He turned, leaning against the back of it. “It's a me and you thing.”

“Oh.”

His arms flexed as he folded them over his chest, the green of his top under his scrub bunched at the forearms. His head ducked, trying to get a read on you. “So?”

You rocked on your heels, realising the shortened of the shirt you wore. Not that it wasn't anything he had seen before. “So...”

“What's going on?” he asked. There was still nothing in his voice to give away his true thoughts, only a slight edge of urgency.

“What-what-what do you mean?”

Robby listed off what he saw was wrong like symptoms. “You've been avoiding me, you never answered my texts, you didn't want to see me the other night nor tonight though you have the place to yourself-”

“I didn't realise they were gone,” you said.

“Okay so every other time?” he asked. “If I did something you can tell me. I'm a big guy, I can take it.”

It was a chance to voice up every ill thought you'd had but all you could think about was how big he was. Standing there, jutted on the back of the couch with his scrubs around his arms and thighs.

“You didn't do anything,” you said, though you weren't looking at his eyes more his arms.

They flexed again like he knew what he was doing. His voice dropped, finally to something you could name. “So tell me. what's going on.”

If you threw yourself at him you knew the chances of him taking you to bed were high, but the chances of you regretting it in the morning when he had rolled out of bed, dressed and left you were higher.

“I just-” you blew out a breath, readying yourself for the dismiss. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”

Robby waited like he was listening to the words re-play. His head lowered as he nodded, taking it in. “May I ask why?”

“It's the casual thing,” you rushed out before you could take it back. “I don't think I can do casual. I thought I could, but I-I can't.”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest and for a moment you thought you really had upset him. But then he straightened up, pushed himself from the sofa and shrugged. His boots thudded heavy as he stepped to you slow. “Okay then.”

Was this the moment when you got the door for him on the way out?

“Okay, so... um.... I guess I'll see you-”

Robby's hands grasped your cheeks and he kissed you quick, hard. His lips tasted as they always did with a hint of mint-freshness. They were rough as always as they worked against yours, opening you up to him as always-

You brushed away, shaking your head. “I um- Robby I can't-”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. He stepped closer to you, the heat of his body waving over you. “We don't have to be casual anymore, I don't want to be casual- not anymore.”

Everyone knew Robby only knew casual. Only selected few ever got past seven weeks. Heck you hadn't counted how long this had been going on for, maybe ten weeks but that could be nothing. You were good sex, that was all.

“Robby-”

“Listen, listen-” he said, arms waving around you before settling on your forearms. “You don't want casual, neither do I. You want me to ask? You want me to ask you to be my girlfriend, I'll ask.”

“Robby you don't date,” you tried to tell him.

He scoffed. “I date. But not anymore, not if I have you.”

Had word of the deal got out? Was Robby just tired after his shift? Delusional?

“Hey, hey-" his hands ran through your hair, cradling your cheeks. “I should've said it earlier, I know but I want this. I want serious.”

His eyes crinkled as he looked at you, the edges of his gaze soft. “You don't just have to say this. You can have anyone else-”

Robby's head ducked into the crook of your neck, brushing your hair back and pressing light kisses to the expanse of your neck. “I don't want anyone else, I want you.”

Your body awakened in shivers that he elicited.

His fingers wound to the front of your body, slowly peeling away the buttons of the shirt till it pooled at your ankles. He didn't move to ravage you, his lips remained light as they kissed down your neck, finding your collarbone and working a mark there.

Your hands wound up his arms, clutching at his shoulders. “Robby-”

“Not this time,” he uttered against your collarbone.

You knew what you called him when it was you and him. “Michael-”

“Good girl.”

You moaned out at the words, the moan you'd held all day revibrating around your flat.

He slowly kicked odd his boots and helped you throw off his scrub top before he kissed you again.

You only got a short glimpse at the body you craved before his tongue, hot and heavy, slid into you mouth, bathing in the warmth. His hands were rough as they studied every inch of your body, fingertips digging into skin.

“I want you, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your lips as you scaled your hands under his shirt and along his stomach till your fingers skimmed under his waistband.

His mouth opened against yours, groaning at this slightest touch. “Oh-”

His arms scooped you up, bringing your body up and flush against him as his arms were strong on your back, kissing you. It was all wet tongue and soft lips as he stumbled back on the edge of your couch.

“Santos will kill me if we have sex on our couch,” you gasped.

Robby rose a brow. “Oh, we're having sex?” he teased.

“I should hope so.”

You kissed you hard again, wetting the both of your mouths in delectable smacks of your lips. The two of you stumbled away to your room and his body caged you in as the two of you fell atop your sheets.

You crawled up the bed as Robby's face fell between your chest. His tongue made wet paths from each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth and his hand groping at the other one till you withered against his body.

“Michael-”

He moaned into your breast and shoved a meaty thigh between your legs. “Grind on me,” he demanded.

Your body did against him as if it only listened to his command.

He mouthed your other breast, groping where his tongue had pressed before. All the while you body moved against his thigh, dragging your pussy against him.

“Yeah.... jus' like that... god.... can feel you.... so good,” he uttered as he jutted his thigh against you.

Your hands went to his shoulders, messaging the skin there until he came back up your body and shoved his tongue down your throat again. Your arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him into you.

All the while you wet down his scrubs.

“You want serious?” he uttered against you, pulling back enough to see you.

You nodded, hair splayed over your pillow.

Robby nodded along, eyes hooded. His hand slid down between your bodies. “I can do serious.”

His finger slid into you, working in and out in slow thrusts. But even the meassured curl of his finger had you holding him, back arching from the bed.

“Mmph-”

“Don't be quiet,” he said, nuzzling his head in you neck, biting the skin there. “Don't do that.”

Another finger curled in and you moaned on. You weren't quiet usually, there was nothing more than Robby liked than being loud. Everything was measured in the ED, out of it, buried inside of you or hot mouths on each other had Robby groaning, moaning and wanting you to do the same.

His fingers thrusted knuckle deep in and out again, the soft moving of skin moving around the room as your breaths covered the sound.

His fingers moved quick as your breaths grew laboured. He sucked the skin of your neck, thrusting and curling as his hips sort some sort of friction.

You withered against him. “I'm gonna- Michael I'm gonna-”

He released your skin with a small bite and laid his mouth open on yours. “Cum,” he uttered.

“Michael-”

His voice turned harder, the hand that wasn't inside of you wrapping around your neck, pushing you into your bed. “Cum.”

With just the right curl Robby had your pussy in the palm of his hand, slick with your release as he worked you through it, rubbing his hand along your clit with jolts of your body.

“God so good,” he said, looking up at you as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on your bodies. “And all mine?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat of your body as strong as it was when he walked in.

“All mine, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, breathless.

Robby slowly took out his fingers from you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean like it was nothing. He fell back on his feet, fingers working on the ties of his scrubs. “That why you were avoiding me?”

“I wasn't-” your words died in your throat as he dropped his scrubs and boxers in one.

You'd seen his cock enough to know it by memory but the size and fullness of him always rendered you speechless.

Robby knew it to. He stood there with a smirk. “You weren't avoiding me?”

Slowly, he sank to his knees.

“No,” you said, mesmerised by the sight of him going down.

Robby's hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them. He tapped your ankles, getting them on the bed as he got closer to your heat, still leaking from the last orgasm. “Promise?”

The words had hardly left your lips before his tongue pressed into you.

Your entire body moved into his but his arms wrapped around your hips, keeping you pressed into the bed. He moved further up, burying himself in you.

“Aw- fuck-” your hands waved for purchase before curling into the sheets.

He licked a stripe up and down before nudging your lips open and finding himself in there. It wasn't the slow drag of fingers but the desperate kisses and licks of a man hungry. He pulled back, spitting against you. “You won't avoid me again, will you baby?”

You shook your head.

Robby's eyes remained on yours until he buried himself in your pussy. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned into you.

His hands kept you spread open every time they quivered but it didn't take long for his hand to wind down to his cock. You prepped yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he pumped his cock agonizingly slow.

“Want your cock, Robby-”

He halted his movements and you but down on your lip.

“What did you just call me?” he asked, slowly moving up your body.

You knew you were supposed to call him Michael but watching the full swing of his cock stand to attention as he made his way over you was far too distracting.

“Hey-v his hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up. “Michael.”

You nodded. Your hands reached for his cock, straining to wrap around him.

The only notice of the effect you had was the clench of his jaw.

“Michael,” he repeated, voice almost a growl.

“Michael.”

He nodded.

“Condom?” he asked, jutting back on his heels.

Your hand slowly worked his cock, the pre-cum beading at the tip. You shook your head. You were both clean, you were on the pill but tonight you wanted to feel everything, wanted him to even fill you-

Robby bent his head, spitting down on his cock and your hand. For a moment that's all it was, you hand moving on his cock as your other circled your clit. “God... your hand.... missed you...”

When your strokes got heavier, faster Robby's head fell back and he groaned. His cock was pink, heavy in your hand-

Quickly he grabbed your wrist and threw it off before grabbing the hilt of his own cock and slowly pushing into you.

His throat strained as he groaned at the push in and your back arched into him. “Fuck!” he fell atop you, arms braced at either side. “Shit- ah-”

Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping you in.

“God, you make me crazy,” he uttered, searching for your lips.

The two of you collided in a mess of salvia, tongue, lips as he pushed into you, catching your gasps.

Eventually the rock of his hips grew steady. The creak of your old bed echoed the moves of him against you.

“Shit- ah-” he groaned, shaking off the sweat and the tension.

“Michael,” you said, holding him in closer. “I want you to... go hard.”

Hard he could do. Soft he could do. He would do anything you asked.

His tongue darted out, swiping your lips. “You missed me?”

“So much, so much, so much,” you pulled him down till his weight tested yours, cock deep. “On me.”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself. He put all his weight down, crashing your body into his bed. He wasn't as young as he once was. By no means but if you wanted it, he'd give it.

Pressed into you his cock went far and deep and he couldn't fully withdraw so it was small, maddening movements.

“Oh god,” he uttered.

You moaned, loud, as he wanted and he was breathless, groaning.

The dull thump of your headboard banged on the wall and something on your bedside table fell off.

Robby's arm stretched out, grabbing your hand and stretching your arms to the headboard, trying to steady it. With the stretch of the bodies he reached that spot in you.

“Aw fuck!” You yelled out, louder than anticipated. “Michael I'm gonna- I'm gonna-”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he grunted with you. His other hand threw to your hip, holding your pelvis flush into you. “Fuck!”

In seconds he let go inside of you and the gush of his cum and the sound of the wet bodies threw you over the edge. His clutch on your hand grew tighter as his body trembled with yours, the spurts of your releases cooling down.

If this was casual Robby wouldn't have lingered, he'd have pulled out, flashed you a smile before using the bathroom.

He moved slower, staying till the both of you were spent. He kissed you, soft and sweet, lips moving around to remember the taste. “I'll move out,” he whispered as he took out his cock.

You stole a glance of both of your release leaking from you and around him before Robby moved aside.

He didn't flee, he didn't go to the bathroom. He pulled the sheets from under your bodies and got the both of you into bed. He laid beside you.

Robby tucked you under his arm, sweat on both your bodies cooling as you laid together. “Feels better when we're serious.” His fingers moved slow on your shoulder, delicate touches like a feather.

If he woke with a new thought, woke with regret you'd deal with it. For the moment you allowed yourself to feel the thump of his heart as the two of you slowly lulled to sleep.

Your alarm was the first thing you picked up in the morning. It's beeping ringing in your ear as you moved to turn the thing off or throw it at the wall-

A weight over your stomach made the effort harder but you got it.

Last night came back to you in the spill of scrubs on the floor and the ache between your legs.

Robby stirred next to you. Last night.

He stayed.

“You on today?” he asked, morning voice rough. You got a look at him, it was a rare sight you got to see him in morning light. His eyes were still shut, his face without the stress the day job gave him. He asked so casual, as if this was a morning routine you'd slipped into years ago.

You hummed, nodding and readying to move-

His arm tightened, drawing you in. “Call in sick.”

You chuckled, but your eyes closed. You promised yourself five more minutes. “My attending might have something to say about that.”

Robby grumbled. “Have a word with him, I'm sure you can be very persuasive.”

Somewhere in you apartment you heard the front door open and close, voices moving around the place.

You hadn't closed the door.

“Hey! We brought coffee and bagels!” called Santos.

“We're sorry for leaving you- we- huh?” you heard Whitaker. “What the?”

The clothes on the floor. The scrub top that would have his doctors badge on it.

You groaned and suddenly Whitaker and Santos were passing the doorway, one smirking, the other shocked.

Robby beside you didn't even stir.

“Good morning, Doctor Robby!” called Santos.

He only lifted a hand in greeting before making sure the covers were over the two of you.

You reached for something heavy, landing on a cushion and aiming at the door. It closed in front of your laughing friends.

But you and Jack's favorites are different, as Dana pointed out with a smirk in her voice, he could hear while he charted.

See, Jack's favorites were the lucky ones who got his attention outside of the hospital. Joy was able to get her schedule perfectly set because Jack kept her updated. Samira's research was spot on because he'd help her for hours. Ellis knew she could crash at his place when she got too drunk. And Langdon could call Jack at any time when his cravings were getting too bad, and he needed someone who got him.

"Certain privileges, as I said before," Dana had said, leaning over the already little space the desks offered, "I'm telling you, everyone and their mom notices."

"Not as mad as Robby..." Jack muttered, but she heard him.

"He's different, and you know it."

"Is he?"

"I'm not here to fight about this. Again." She leaned in closer, eyes looking at him over her glasses, "I'm here to talk about her. Your favorite resident."

That turned Jack away from his screen, his own eyes now squinting at her, "Who? Mohan?"

"No, not her—"

"Ellis?"

"Jack, lemme speak for five goddamn seconds."

"Or are you talking about Joy? Cause she isn't even a resident, but hey, she could fit well here if she truly wanted to—"

"You're such a—" She started, and Jack huffed out a laugh. He found making Dana mad was very easy and enjoyable, "—I mean, your favorite shy, sweet, and perfect resident? Wears that gray hoodie coming in every single day?"

Jack perked up at the description of you. For some reason, his eyes darted around the ER, looking to see if he could spot you. He couldn't, which meant you were probably with a patient. He sighed and looked back at Dana, who had scored a very sour look on her face.

"What? Did she ask for me? Did she? Well, tell her I'm not busy right now, at all. Actually, I'll tell her that myself. I could help her with her case, maybe. I know she said she was going to be working with this older couple, and she isn't used to accommodating their needs, so maybe I could guide her through it—"

"Jesus Christ, not even Romeo was this mad for Juliet..." She whispered under her breath before speaking up, "I'm saying you gotta some flirting with the woman. The rest of us are trying to work, not be a part of your love story."

To that, Jack had frowned so deeply his wrinkles folded more than usual, "Flirting? Evans, those glasses you got, I think you need a stronger kind, cause I don't flirt."

"You're right. No, you lose the ability to even talk properly when she's around. You eye-fuck."

"Eye—" Jack whipped his head around, making sure no one was listening before scooting closer on the stool, "No one is eye fucking anyone."

"Tell that to the rest of the department."

So maybe, Jack favored you over the others just a bit. And yes, he kept his mouth shut with you around. But that was only because you were shy. You barely talked to any of the other residents unless it had to do with cases. He's sure you wouldn't appreciate your attending trying to talk every single moment of the shift.

Plus, Jack had already learned enough about you from a single interaction.

It had been a slow, slow night shift. To the point where charting was the only thing to do. And with that slowness, every single staff member decided to take their meals and eat a quick midnight snack.

Jack was no different. He took his tacos out of the fridge, intending to heat them up—when he saw you silently weave through the crowded room, take your food, and slip out.

How could Jack not follow you?

After his tacos were nice and warm, he looked around to find out. Every room was empty, no desk was occupied by you. Where could you have gone?

He was going to give up hope when, through the small glass windows of the doors leading to the stairwell, he spotted you silently eating your food, watching something on your phone. Jack. couldn't help the grin on his face as he pushed the doors open.

This shift was so dead, not even people from other departments were rushing down to help with surgeries. Meaning, you had all the space you wanted. You didn't even notice him coming in until the door clicked behind him.

You had sharply inhaled and found him before you. Your eyes were sharp and quick, just like how they usually were when you were working deep in someone's chest.

"Enjoying your..." Jack started, head cocking to the side to see what you were eating.

"...tacos." You finished, looking away, "I'm eating tacos, Doctor Abbot."

Was it wrong how he hated how you said his professional title when it was just the two of you? "Speak of the devil, so am I. What's in yours?"

You blinked when he came to sit next to you. You scooted closer to the railing, creating space. You told him everything you put in it. "I got them from a taco stand near the park by my apartment."

Jack nodded along, lifting his own taco, "Sounds good. I got myself some birria tacos."

"Is it good?"

"Amazing. I buy them in bulk sometimes when Shen drowns himself in coffee. He needs something in his stomach other than liquid death."

A tiny smile appeared on your lips, "I tell him every day to slow down, but it never works. Can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

"Doesn't help that he drinks them with at least four pumps of creamer."

"Do you think after he buys his coffee, then uses his own personal syrup and adds more because he doesn't want anyone judging him?"

Jack pretended to be shocked that you figured it out. He turned his body to you and fixed a grateful expression on his face, "See? I'm glad I'm not the only person who thinks he's a bit strange!"

"But you call him your wing-man."

"Yeah? But I can appreciate his talents."

And for the first time in the months of knowing, of working, and of spending hours with you: you laughed. You leaned over your little tupawear of tacos and laughed.

Jack hadn't been mesmerized with someone's laugh since... well, since his wife. And it wasn't that your laugh reminded him of her. No, your laugh was purely your own. Just as his wife's had been hers.

Your laugh was chaotic and so out there compared to the persona you crafted at work. You held the rails because your shoulders were shaking so hard. There was even a flush across your cheeks.

And it was because of that smile that Jack learned everything possible about you.

In the short thirty minutes where no one tried to find either you or him, he learned everything there was. He learned about your folks, about your friends—one of them was having her bachelorette party soon—about where you went to school, and even your favorite animal.

And he learned the small details of your life. What you liked to do, what you liked to eat, what you liked in general. The most surprising thing Jack gathered from all this was how many people didn't flock to talk to you. You were funny, overall amazing conversation, and are a good person.

It was only when shouts from the main ER forced you and Jack to stand and move that he found his way.

"Work and home have to be separate, Doctor Abbot." You said with that small smile over your shoulder, "I'd lose my mind knowing someone at work knows my personal life. Not that bad, but just not something I love."

Because of this, despite his "favorite's rule", he made sure to never impede on your personal life. There were no calls outside of work, and there were no meetups. He stuck to eating lunch with you on the rare times it was dead and quiet.

So, Jack understood why Dana had confronted him about his... 'eye-fucking'. Really, it was him intently watching every single bit of you because he knew that outside this setting, he'd never get to see it.

That was the minimum of what he got to see of you, then he would take that. It wasn't like you consumed every part of him. No, no, no. The shy, sweet, simply perfect resident didn't have him thinking what tacos she should try next. If you would eat one of the tacos he brought in if he got a different kind.

Would you even consider breaking your rule and seeing him outside of work?

Unfortunately, that would never happen. Like Joy, you were prompt with your schedule and never worked more than necessary. Maybe you would put in an extra hour and a half, but only if you were feeling kind.

Jack had to accept that. He had his own life to live and other favorites to follow around. Part of life is being a night-shift attending.

And plus, Robby was going through a new phase in his life where he had to go out. Jack, being the glorified babysitter for the over-50-year-old man, tagged along. That meant Dana and Lena came too. And when Al-Hashmi found her footing, she too, came along for the ride that was Michael Robinavitch's midlife crisis.

Tonight, Robby had decided that they should all go bowling. Yes, all these older folks at the bowling center awkwardly shuffling around each other and enjoying beers. No one wanted to say yes. The group chat was dead as Robby texted his plan, until Jack had privately messaged him and told him he'd go if he'd stop embarrassing himself.

He did, and that's how Jack found himself at the bowling alley.

However, he didn't actually expect everyone to show up. Al-Hashmi said her ex was watching her son—that and she really wanted to beat Robby. Dana and Lena came as a duo from the same car, citing that after their shift from hell, they needed a good place to talk and unwind.

Everyone was lazing around, simply trying to make the night last much longer than it should. Beer floated around the five of them, and they all traded stories about their most recent shifts.

"I'm telling you, when that motherfucker spat on me," Lena said, gripping her beer bottle tighter as she watched Al-Hashmi get a strike, "I'd never wanted to slap someone harder. Thank god Ahmad was the one who did cause I would've—oh, I can't even think about it without getting pissed."

"I would've swung, no doubt 'bout it." Dana muttered, "I would've taken the charge, I don't give a damn. You put your body fluids on me on purpose, you ain't gettin' out right, I'm telling you."

"I would've punched them," Al-Hashmi noted as she came to sit down next to Jack. She was ahead of the whole group, Robby—who was next—right behind her. "And then buried them out back. But that's just me."

"And me," Dana said, like it was common sense.

"Make it three." Lena chimed in.

"Did you mean to rhyme?" Jack asked, but he was greeted by groans.

"Oh, can it, Abbot." Dana rolled her eyes, "You aren't a poet, so don't comment."

"Never claimed it."

"But the way you were just blabbing—"

Shireks from his right stopped Dana's words. When they all looked over a large group of women—at least ten—had all surrounded one girl in white as she had also gotten a strike. They all jumped around and clapped and screamed her name, not caring that no one was watching.

Lena sighed at the sight, leaning over the stiff vinyl couch to stare, "To be young and in love. And have that many girlfriends. Sheesh, I sound depressing. Am I depressing Evan?"

"Not at all," Dana sipped her beer, "I remember my bachorlette. I went to the nearby bar and drank myself crazy, then came back home to my husband. Best night of my life."

"Not the wedding?" Jack added.

"Hell no. You think that's the only thing we look forward to?"

Jack thought about that when he looked back. His best day was when he got married. Oh, he loved that day. He loved watching his wife walk down the aisle. The stupid dances he did with his brothers-in-law and her dad.

That was a long time ago. Now, he watched as Robby argued with Al-Hashmi about his using the guard rails. He glanced across the low table at Dana and Lena as they went back to their conversation.

Huh, maybe he should text Joy the schedule of the—

Gush!

Cold, wet liquid ran over his shoulder. He gasped at the feeling, clutching his shirt as he sprang up. It was musky, almost dirty, and it was sticky. Dana and Evans were the first to make any noise, an almost-smile cracking on their face in shock.

Robby blinked at the sight, then looked behind him, and a crack of a wide grin crossed his features. Even Al-Hashmi broke down in laughter, bowling ball in her hand.

The smell, the feel... it was just like the beer he was drinking.

Beer.

Jack just got covered in beer.

"Oh my—I'm so sorry! I-I was backing up talking, and I didn't—holy shit you're covered in it!"

Jack waved his hands, shaking his head with them. "It's okay. Just a mistake—"

"I didn't mean to!" He heard heels click over to his side while his head was turned away. Hands touched his shoulders as they tried to wipe off the alcohol. "I-I'm actually kinda drunk right now. Not drunk! More like buzzed! Buzzed, that's the word."

"I'm serious, it isn't that big of a deal. It's just a shirt."

"I could pay for a new one!"

"No need." Jack huffed while finally looking over. "It's not like it was anything expensive... holy shit."

Right. Jack meant that 'holy shit'.

Because, holy fucking shit.

It was you.

You, but not the you he knew.

This version of you was wearing all black. This version of you was wearing heels that made you taller. This version of you wore makeup that made your eyes pop harder.

And this version of you showed more skin than he'd ever seen.

Your top was low. So low that the pretty swell of your breasts pushed together. Your skirt was short and black, and your thighs were on full display. Your thighs, clad in black tights that held onto you so tight that if he were to pull at them, he was sure they'd snap against your skin.

Jack could tell the moment you realized who he was. He also saw the moment you realized who he was with. Your eyes darted to Jack's follow attendings, to both charge nurses. You let out an awkward squeak and took a staggering step back, the two glasses in your hands clinking together

"Robby?! What're you... and Baran.... Dana and Lena and... and Doctor Abbot. Oh god, Doctor Abbot, I ruined your shirt!"

Jack couldn't give a damn about his shirt. Hell, you could spill the whole bar on him, and he'd take it if it meant you'd touch his shoulders that lightly again. He raised his hands, trying to calm you, "It's okay! I said it was just a shirt, and that still stands—"

But you didn't give him any chance when you were already adjusting the glasses and pulling out your wallet, pulling out three twenties. Did he seem like the asshat to spend that much money on a shirt? He hoped not.

You shoved the cash into his hands, already backing away, "That should be enough to cover it! And—and if that's not enough, find me at work—or text me and I can send you money—holyshitthisistheworst."

"Wait! I'm serious, I'm fine—"

Yet, you had already spun on your heel and walked away. Walked away from him and the silent group of his peers. They all watched as you—flushed and talking to yourself—rushed to your group. They all accepted you with open arms, taking the glasses from you, asking you questions.

Whatever you seemed to say with your face buried in your hands, you got them full on staring at Jack. Not glaring, though. They actually seemed fascinated by his mere presence.

Dana was the first to speak up, "Am I gonna say it, or will anyone else?"

"I'm not used to seeing that much... skin from one of our residents, even at those staff get-togethers." Al-Hashmi finished.

Jack whipped his head at her, "It's not bad, it's just skin."

"Of course you'd be happy about that..." Came from Robby, deep in his chest. Jack shot him an ugly look before sitting back down on the couch, sighing. You'd disappeared among all your friends, hidden away from the whole situation.

Away from him.

It didn't take long after the teasing remarks at Jack's direction that they went back to bowling. Jack used up all the napkins while Lena played his turn, trying to clean himself up.

He wished he'd followed you, despite what both groups said. He wished that the courage he had to be natural and talkative with everyone else, he had with you.

He wished that—

Buzz, buzz!

Jack felt his back pocket vibrate, and he cursed when his phone dug painfully into the back of his thighs. When he pulled it out...

It was an unknown number.

Against his best judgement—his day had already been strange enough, why not look at this too—he unlocked his phone and looked at the chat. He didn't recognize the number at all.

[UNKNOWN]: I'm serious about the money thing.

[UNKNOWN]: If you need more, just text me.

[JACK]: Who is this?

[UNKNOWN]: Are you... serious?

Jack blinked.

[UNKNOWN]: Look up, Doctor Abbot.

And when he did, his breath staggered.

On the other side of the rink, he spots your eyes. You had twisted your body to look directly at him, and in your clenched hands was your phone. It illuminated your entire face, every worried part of your expression.

But most of all, the small smile you sported was there.

Jack looked back down at his phone.

[JACK]: You texted me.

[UNKNOWN]: I did.

[JACK]: You have my number.

[JACK]: You've had my number all this time?

[UNKNOWN]: Yes?

[UNKNOWN]: I asked Shen a while ago, just in case of emergencies.

[JACK]: What would it take for you to text me outside of work and emergencies?

[UNKNOWN]: Take my money, and we'll talk about it.

To that, Jack smiled.

[JACK]: Never.

JACK ABBOT SENT 120 DOLLARS

He watched your face scrunch up, more nervousness filling your eyes. He could spot every detail, because it was all his body was tuned into right now. That's all he could focus on.

Not the chatter around him, or the calls for people's food orders. Not the clatter of pins falling to bowling balls, or his group's conversation around him.

No, it was only you.

[UNKNOWN]: I can't take this.

[UNKNOWN]: I'm sending it back to you.

[JACK]: If you do, I'll block you.

For the first time since that stairwell, you laughed like you did. You leaned over the back of the couch, gripping tight to hold yourself upright as your shoulders shook. He could hear your laugh from so far away. Even your friends had paused to ask you what was wrong, but you were laughing too hard to respond.

Yeah, Jack was so right.

You were shy, sweet, and perfect.

Can you tell I'm highkey projecting?