synopsis: For the past six years, your family never missed their mandatory two-week summer vacation to the lake house. But after Pittsfest, your brother and your dad leave on their own trip to work through the tensions it left behind—leaving you alone for two weeks with your dad's best friend.
word count: 6.2k
content tags: mdni, older man/younger reader, age gap, dbf!jack abbot, robinavitch!reader, gn!reader, dry humping, european author who doesn't know shit about us geography, unfunny author tries to be funny, maybe ooc jack?
a/n: so this is something new for me, I have never written smut or anything explicit before. I also never searched for synonyms as much as I did to write this haha. It might be clumsy and awkward, but I hope you enjoy this!
I used this great guide to write the most explicit scenes.
dividers credit: uzmacciato, saradika-graphics
masterlist
When you were eighteen years old, your dad had decided to create a new family tradition: a two-week-long vacation at the family lake house up in Kelley island, Ohio.
It sat near Lake Erie, tucked away from everything. It was nowhere near as loud and crowded as Pittsburgh—it was the opposite actually. The drive there took nearly four hours, but even that felt like a part of the vacation: windows rolled down, sunglasses on, radio on bursting out old songs from the 70s, your dad smiling widely and singing out loud. He always looked lighter than he did at home.
The new rule had been sudden, but it was also a well-needed change. As you grew up, your relationship with your father had started to strained. You got along well enough, yet it often felt like the both of you weren't truly close.
The thing was, Michael Robinavitch was a great doctor and an excellent mentor (though even that had become questionable lately), but when it came to his personal life, he struggled a little more than he'd like to admit. Being your dad was his greatest pride, his biggest achievement, but there were times when he struggled to stay out of the ED and actually be there for you. Fatherhood didn't come naturally to him. He had always been one to avoid commitment and being a father was a lifelong commitment that wasn't going to go away simply because he had too much on his plate.
Which was why he had put the mandatory two-week-long vacation in place.
Kelleys Island brought a peace you couldn't find in Pittsburgh. It was small, slow and almost too peaceful. The lake stretched endlessly, and the house was old, something that carried history and a beauty modern houses couldn't match. It was a place where you could allow yourself to sit in silence, work through your thoughts and relax.
For the first trip, it had been just you and your dad. It was a little chaotic, with your dad struggling to adjust to having nothing to do. He grew stir-crazy, but the two of you ended up doing a lot together: kayaking, hiking, and anything else you could find.
It had been refreshing.
Despite the fact that your father earned a pretty great salary, you had never really gone on trips. Or at least, nothing longer than a weekend getaway. As far as you remembered, your dad had always been a workaholic and had a hard time stepping out of the ER. The time away helped you grow closer, learn more about each other and begin to reconcile.
The first night at the lake house, the two of you sat on the dock in silence, watching the water ripple as it reflected the stars. There was no light pollution here: the sky stretched endlessly, no clouds in sight, and constellations were brighter than you had ever seen them before.
Your dad had started talking about his Bubbe: memories from when he was a kid, things she had taught him, and stories about times he'd been caught doing something he definitely shouldn't have. You could hear the smile in his voice, but there was something underneath, too. Nostalgia, but also the quiet kind of homesickness that never really went away after a loved one passed away.
Then, the conversation had shifted to you, your first year at nursing school and how it was going. If you liked it, if it was going well, if you were having a hard time and if you had made friends.
You left from the lake house lighter than you'd ever been.
For the second trip to the lake house, Jake joined you.He was ten years old when he joined in the second trip, and despite the nine years age gap, you had a fantastic time. You had always gotten along.
You had lost your mother very young, so she and your father couldn't have given you siblings. But then, Janey and Jake entered your life. After your dad and Janey broke up, they both stayed in your life and you couldn't be more grateful for that. The separation was mutual, and they remained great friends. The four of you had a monthly family dinner, either at yours or at Janey's. You still picked up Jake from school time to time to grab ice cream or to go do some fun activities—lately your thing was going to VR games rooms.
Needless to say, when the three of you travelled up to the lake house, you had a fantastic time. Despite the age gap between you and Jake, you still teamed up to drive your dad crazy. At one point, Michael had actually sent both of you to a corner when you pushed him too far, which only made Jake and you laugh harder.
The new and last addition to the third trip was Jake Abbot. Your father's best friend and the night-shift attending at PTMC. You didn't know him all that well, as you were grown and didn't spend as much time at home as you used to. You had only had short encounters that hadn't been enough to have an opinion about someone.
Even if Jake and you weren't familiar with him, the vacation turned out great. You hadn't doubted it a second, but Jack was an incredible addition to the annual holiday.
Even though you were staying at a lake house, he took the three of you camping. From that point on, every trip included a small camping excursion.
Now in your late twenties, you had moved out of your father's house a long time ago. You still spent plenty of time at your childhood home, but you also needed the privacy and the space that came with having a place of your own.
Your house sat a few streets away from your dad's, still in a nice neighbourhood of Pittsburgh. It wasn't big, but it was perfect for you. There was a guest bedroom that had gradually become more Jake's room than anything else. He had decorated it to his liking with posters on the walls, with some of his clothes in the closet and dresser and small trinkets around your house.
The house came with a yard, which you used constantly. Breakfast outside, brunch with friends, a drink after a long shift. It had quickly become your favourite place to decompress. You spent even more time there now that the days were growing longer. Summer approached quickly, the sun setting later than it did during winter. The sky melted into a mix of orange and pink, birds chirping as they flew around.
It was silent, peaceful even.
Until your phone rang, shattering your bubble.
"Who the fuck…dares to call me…when I'm so busy?" You murmured dramatically, reaching for your phone resting on the small garden table next to your wine glass.
The screen read: "dad".
You picked up, bringing the phone to your ear. "Yes, Father dearest? What service dost thou require of me?"
"What?" your father's confused voice sounded out. Despite having raised you for more than two decades, he still sounded perpetually out of depth with half the things you uttered. "You know what, I'll ignore that. I just needed to talk to you about something."
You examined the chips in your nail polish. "Well, I'm listening."
"Listen, I know I was the one to install the mandatory vacation at the lake house, but Jake and I won't be making it this year."
"What?" You frowned, immediately sitting straighter. "Why not?"
There was a long pause. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice when he finally answered. "Well, Jake has been blaming me for Leah's death."
"Oh, dad…"
Your chest tightened.
His voice was shaky, and you knew he still blamed himself, even though he had done everything he could. He had done more than he should have honestly, especially during the Pittfest MCI. You had seen him cry over it more than once, and those moments never got easier. He was still grieving Adamson, and now he struggled to recover from Pittfest.
"I thought that taking a trip just the two of us would help us make up, sort everything out," he added quietly.
"That's a good idea, Dad," you hummed softly. "I'm sure it'll do you two good."
"I knew you'd understand, sweetheart." His voice was soft. "I'm sorry that we can't come, but you'll still have Jack."
"Oh." You blinked a few times. "I assumed the trip would be cancelled."
"If you're not comfortable being alone with Jack , you don't have to go, honey." he said gently. "Jack will be making the trip either way, so you're free to join if you'd like to."
You stayed silent for a moment.
You hadn't been alone with Jack before.
For a few hours here and there, maybe. But days? Two full weeks?
Two weeks alone with Jack, who was unfairly attractive.
Jack, who rolled up his sleeves absentmindedly, exposing his strong and veiny forearms, or wore those skin-tight compression shirts that wrapped perfectly around his biceps.
Jack, who had a habit of walking around shirtless like clothing was optional. Your dad had scolded him multiple times about being too comfortable, to which he'd only wink at him and acted as if he hadn't heard his complaint.
Jack, who did yoga in little to no clothes outside in the backyard directly in front of the living room bay window. It wasn't the reason you liked to read your books in the living room—not at all.
Jack, who had the infuriating habit of saying things that sounded incredibly dirty with a casual and innocent air and had the audacity to give you an odd look when you'd short circuit.
He already drove you insane when the four of you were together.
Alone? You might actually lose your mind.
Or worse.
But still, you loved the lake house, and you couldn't imagine skipping a year just because Jake and Michael weren't there.
"I don't mind going with Jack," you finally said quietly.
"Good. I'll let the two of you settle the details. You have his number, right?" Your dad asked. You heard some shuffling through the line, probably him reaching for his little contact book. He still wrote down numbers and addresses like it was the 70s. You'd teased him relentlessly about it.
"I do. We don't talk much outside of the trip, but we do send texts on holidays and birthdays."
"Right," your dad said slowly, probably quirking an eyebrow. "Well, I'm sure you guys will have a good time but not too much, okay? No funny business."
Your eyes widened, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline. "What? Dad, it's Jack."
"Exactly. It's Jack," he repeated. "I know how attractive he is, and I've seen the way you look at him, darling."
"Daaaaad!" You buried your face in your free hand, cheeks burning. You hadn't realised he'd noticed. Though, in hindsight, you probably hadn't been subtle while shamelessly admiring Jack's abs.
"Come on, darling, I wasn't born yesterday." Michael chuckled at your embarrassment. "It's alright. We've all had an embarrassing and inappropriate crush at some point. But no funny business, young lady."
"Sir, yes, sir." you answered, your hand still covering your face in embarrassment despite being completely alone.
'I'm so fucked.'
A few days later, a knock echoed through your house at 7:30AM sharp.
You didn't need to check to know who it was. You opened the door, and there he was. Jack Abbot, in all his unfairly attractive, early-morning glory.
"Hey."
You hadn't seen him for nearly a year, but somehow he looked exactly the same, if not better. This man looked better each year that passed, aging like fine wine. It was utterly unfair.
He wore a simple black t-shirt and dark blue jeans, nothing special, yet he still looked devastatingly handsome. His hair was slightly messy, like he'd run a hand through it one too many times or maybe he hadn't bothered brushing his hair this morning.
"Hey, let me just fetch my bags and I'll be back." You said, offering him a warm smile threaded with exhaustion. You had woken up way too early, you still didn't feel fully awake.
"I can help carry them to the car." He said, taking a step inside your house like he'd been invited a dozen times.
You blinked before nodding in agreement. You weren't going to refuse help, especially not when it meant watching him carry things. That would be…educational.
You led him through your house toward your bedroom, but suddenly felt hyper-aware of everything: the throw blanket you hadn't bothered folding back and left on the couch, the mug on the drying rack, the faint scent of coffee and pancakes lingering in the air. You realized he had never been in your house before from the way his eyes quietly took everything in quietly.
When you pushed the door to your bedroom open, Jack paused dead.
He looked at your luggage, then at you, then back at the luggage.
"You do know that we're travelling only for two weeks," he said slowly "and that the house has a washer, right?"
You followed his gaze to your luggage at the foot of your bed. One suitcase and two duffel bags.
Okay, maybe you had gone a little overboard—just a little.
"I know." you said defensively, crossing your arms. "But whenever I pack light, I end up hating everything I brought. Then, I go shopping. So, really, this is me being financially responsible."
Jack's mouth twitched, clearly fighting a smile. He shook his head and let out a quiet sigh, grabbing the suitcase and one of the duffel bags.
"Let's go."
You followed him out carrying the other duffel bag, trying not to stare at the way his shoulders shifted under his shirt as he carried your things with ease. You locked the door behind you and trailed him down to the car.
When he opened the trunk and placed your bags inside, you leaned forward to peek in and froze.
The trunk was already half full.
You straightened and turned to him, eyebrows shooting up. "Are you serious? You judged me for my three bags but you've packed way more than me."
"Yes." he replied, closing the trunk. "But there's more than just clothes. There's my crutches and my wheelchair in the backseat. Then there's medical equipment in case any of us get hurt, my yoga stuff, camping equipment and some books."
You pressed your lips together, shaking your head and made your way to the passenger seat. You buckled your seatbelt and took Jack's phone in your hands, looking through Spotify for a decent song.
"Vámanos." Jack said, pulling the car out of the driveway.
You paused mid-scroll.
"You listen to Celia Cruz?"
Despite your surprise, you still tapped on 'La Vida Es Un Carnaval'.
"Hell yeah, I do." he said as the first notes of the salsa song filled the car.
Jack glanced over at you, an amused smirk tugging at his mouth. "Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm just saying," you replied, scrolling through the rest of his playlist. "This isn't exactly what I expected to find."
"Oh yeah?" he asked.
"Kinda thought you listened mainly to divorced dad rock like my dad."
He barked out a laugh at that, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music. "I mean, kinda yeah. Robby and I listen to similar stuff."
There was a pause before he spoke again.
"My wife was Puerto Rican," he said simply. "She played this stuff constantly."
Something in his expression softened. "Said life was too short to listen to sad bastard music all the time."
You chuckled. "I mean…she wasn't wrong."
Jack snorted softly, glancing at you for a second before looking back at the road.
"No, " he murmured. "She usually wasn't."
"Good taste in music and men, huh." you said playfully, still scrolling through his playlists. "I like her."
"Well, I married her, so really this just proves that I've got good taste."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jack." You chuckled.
"You wound me."
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging on your lips lingered anyway.
You felt something shaking you lightly, pulling you from sleep. You groaned and swat blindly, your hand landing on a warm and solid surface. A quiet chuckle followed. You opened your eyes slowly, and you froze when you realized your hand was resting on Jack's chest.
You blinked slowly.
"What?"
"We're at a gas station." he started. "I'm refilling the tank. Thought you might want to stretch, use the restroom, maybe grab some snacks."
You rubbed your face, dragging your hands down in a sleepy manner. Nodding, you unfastened your seatbelt and made your way out of the car.
"Need anything?" you asked over your shoulder.
"If you can grab me some coffee or an energy drink, that'd be nice."
You hummed, making your way into the shop. Your movement were slow and sluggish, still half asleep. Checking your phone, you read that it was a little over ten AM.
You grabbed energy drinks and some snacks. Even though you had breakfast before you left, you were already hungry. Something about travelling always made you feel hungry.
You heard a low whistle, making you peek behind you with narrowed eyes. A guy who didn't seem that much older than you was checking you out, looking at you up and down.
"look at that ass."
You exhaled deeply, patience already gone. "Seriously, man? That's the best you've got?"
The guy quirked an eyebrow at your reaction as if you were the problem. "It's a compliment. No need to be a bitch about it."
"This bitch is telling you to fuck off now, so bye." you waved him off, but it seemed the guy took it the wrong way and stepped forward.
Before you could snap at him again, you felt a presence behind you, which you recognized as Jack from the smell of his expensive cologne. His hand came on your hip, his thumb brushing once in a grounding manner, and his chest pressed into your back.
"Everything's alright, darling?" he murmured, breath hitting your ear.
Your breath hitched.
You glanced toward him, but his attention wasn't on you. His head was slightly tilted down while he glared at the man in front of you. The guy huffed and backed off, deciding it wasn't worth it.
"Thank you." you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I hate how men don't take the hint except if another man gets involved."
Jack didn't answer at first, still staring at the retreating figure of the other guy with a tight expression.
"I can't say I understand," he said after a second. "But I'm glad I was here."
You pressed your lips together. Clearing your throat, you switched topic. "Do we need anything else?" you asked, looking down at your arms full of supplies. Jack looked down, observing what you had brought.
"I think you've got us covered." He answered. "We're nearly there and will go grocery shopping anyways."
You payed—or rather Jack did—for your articles and returned to the car.
It only took an hour and a half more to reach Kelleys Island.
It looked the same as it always did: the sun hung high and bright in the sky, there was no cloud in sight and the weather warm. There were only a handful of people wandering in the street, but the lack of people didn't surprise you since it was lunchtime.
Instead of heading straight to the lake house, you and Jack stopped at The Village Pump, a small restaurant south of the island. After four hours on the road, you had no energy left to cook, and honestly, no desire to.
"god, that feels so good." you hummed after taking the first bite of your chicken breast sandwich. Even just as a passenger, the drive had drained you.
Across from you, Jack observed you with barely concealed amusement as he chewed on his own sandwich. "You'd think you haven't eaten in weeks with the way you're wolfing this down."
"You don't get it." you shook your head. "This—" you gestured dramatically to your food. "—is all I've been craving for weeks."
"Chicken breast sandwich and beer?" Jack chuckled. "They've got that in Pittsburgh too, y'know?"
"Yeah, but they don't have chicken breast sandwich and beer from Kelleys Island!"
Jack huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink."You're so dramatic."
His eyes flickered over you again, staring for a second too long before he spoke again. "Still don't understand how you came from Mike."
"Hey, that's a question for him and not for me." you shrugged, taking another oversized bite.
"Slow down, you're gonna choke."
"No, I'll be ok—"
Your words were cut off abruptly as you started coughing, the food going into the wrong pipe like he had warned you.
"Hey. Breathe."
You nodded, coughing a few more times before you finally managed to recover.
"See? what did I tell you?" he sighed in exasperation. He leaned toward you, rubbing your back gently.
"You're never letting this go, are you?" you rasped.
"Absolutely not."
His hand lingered on your back for a second longer than necessary before he finally pulled away.
"Your food isn't going anywhere," he started, settling back into his chair. "We've got all the time in the world, we're here for two weeks."
"And," he added with a faint smirk, "I'm pretty sure your dad would kill me if you died choking on a sandwich on my watch."
"Wow," you laughed weakly. "Good to know your main concern is getting away with murder charge."
"Honey, I'm a veteran and a doctor." he tilted his head to the side, locking his eyes with yours. "That doesn't scare me, I know how to get away with it."
Something warm twisted in your stomach at the look in his eyes. Jack had a way of holding eye contact that felt suffocating sometimes and it always made your pulse stutter.
"Definitely not a creepy thing to say when I'm gonna spend the next two weeks alone with you." you said flatly. "Was it your plan all along?"
"You caught me." He winked.
The gesture was simple but it made your heart start racing, heat rushing to your face—and probably elsewhere, too. God, it was only the first day and you were already struggling.
After nearly choking to death on your sandwich and stopping for groceries, you finally made it to the lake house at three p.m. The trip had felt endless, but the second you stepped inside, relief washed over you.
You dropped on the couch with a sigh as soon as Jack unlocked the door.
"Get up." He said, setting a few grocery bags down on the kitchen counter. "We still have to empty the trunk and put away the groceries."
"oh so you hate me?" you complained, throwing an arm over your eyes. "Do you enjoy torturing me?"
Jack only shook his head fondly at your antics.
"Once we're done, you can rest all you want." he said with a small smile. "Maybe even go for a swim?"
You shot up immediately, practically running out of the door.
"What are you waiting for? Hurry!"
He followed after you with a chuckle.
By the time you arrived at the lake, Jack had been in the water awhile.
You'd actually unpacked your bags for once, which was a miracle in itself. Normally, you'd live out your suitcase for the next two weeks and added to it whenever you went shopping. However, a burst of motivation hit you, and you decided to put everything away before you could lose it.
So now, finally free, you stepped onto the dock and found yourself stopping short at the sight of him.
Jack was swimming near the dock, salt and pepper hair slicked back and dripping onto sun-warmed skin. His prosthetic was abandoned near the dock steps, half-hidden beneath a towel, while Jack swam around. He hauled himself onto the dock with easy strength when he heard you approach, droplets running down his chest and muscles as he sat beside the ladder.
"You sure took your sweet time for someone so desperate to go for a swim." He called over his shoulder.
Then, he turned his head to look at you properly.
The words died on his tongue.
It was subtle, barely there, but you caught it in the way his eyes dragged downward before snapping back to your face. You saw his adam's apple move as he swallowed hard.
You'd been a little bolder when packing this year. The swimsuit definitely wasn't something you'd wear around your dad and brother, the fabric barely qualified as coverage. Jack's reaction and the way he was looking at you was definitely worth it.
You walked over slowly.
"Had the motivation to unpack." You answered calmly. "Figured I should take advantage of the opportunity before it disappeared."
"Jesus," Jack blinked at you in mock alarm. "Are you running a fever?"
You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your knee."oh, you think you're so funny."
"I know I am." He grinned up at you, mischief and amusement dancing in his eyes. His hand wrapped loosely around your calf, giving you a gentle squeeze before he let go.
You lowered yourself beside him, hoping he hadn't noticed in any way how your pulse picked up at his touch. You dipped your legs into the cool water and let out a sigh. "God, this is even better than I remembered."
"Yeah." He chuckled lightly, nodding in agreement. "It's definitely worth the four hour drive."
Jack pushed himself back into the lake in one smooth motion.
"You coming in?" he asked, staying close to the dock. "or are just gonna sit there looking pretty?"
You bit your lower lip, looking down at him.
"Maybe I'm just here to enjoy the view."
Jack's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Mm, is that so?" a grin spread across his face slowly.
You observed him as he swam closer. You didn't know what you expected, but it was certainly not for him to reach forward for your wrist. You barely had time to react.
"Jack—"
He yanked.
You hit the water with a shriek.
"Jack!" You yelled his name as soon as you resurfaced, pushing your hair out of your face and glaring in his direction.
He was already laughing, head tipped back and shoulders shaking. "You should've seen your face!"
"oh, you're so dead."
You splashed him hard enough to get water in his mouth.
It was his turn to sputter, coughing a few times. He looked back at you, menace writing itself on his face. You tried to swim away before retaliation came, but you weren't quick enough. Jack caught you easily, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back against him as another laugh escaped your throat.
"Got you."
"Meh, you cheated," you accused with a giggle, squirming in his grip.
"You're just too slow." he replied, laughing.
The sound of his laughter, his breath brushing over your skin and his arms holding you close made your skin heat up. You stopped struggling and stayed still in his arms. Jack's arms loosened around you, giving you enough space to pull away if you wanted to, but he didn't let go completely either. His hands rested low against your back beneath the water.
You suddenly felt too aware of yourself, of him, of every point where your bodies touched.
Neither of you moved.
Slowly, you raised your arms around his neck. Your fingers drifted into the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and you felt him shiver as you played with them absentmindedly.
Jack went still, the teasing grin slowly fading from his face.
Your eyes dropped to his mouth before you could stop yourself, before you could remember the line and who he was to you. When you looked back up, he was already watching you.
"Sweetheart…" his voice came out quiet and soft, but threaded with warning. It was a dangerous game you were trying to play.
You swallowed.
"What?"
His thumb brushed slowly against your back. "You know what."
"Maybe I don't." You said lightly, sounding almost innocent but you both knew better.
Jack exhaled sharply through his nose, something close to a breathy laugh. "You always gotta push, huh."
"Don't act like you don't want this as much as I do."
His jaw tightened, his thumb on your back stalling for a second.
"That's not fair."
"No?" You tilted your head slightly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't thought about it too."
You were met with silence.
Jack looked away, muttering a quiet 'fuck' under his breath and dragged a hand over his face.
"That's the problem." he admitted finally, his voice sounding rough. "I can't say it because I have thought about it."
Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, loud enough that you were almost convinced he could hear it.
"So what's stopping you?"
He looked back at you then, his expression tight with conflict. You could see the emotions battling inside him.
"You're Robby's kid."
"I'm twenty-six."
"Still, I'm his best friend."
"I'm not asking you to marry me, Jack."
"That somehow makes it worse, kid," he let out a rough chuckle. "Michael would kill me."
"You're assuming he'd find out." you said. "He doesn't have to know."
"I couldn't keep something like this from him."
You moved closer until your forehead brushing his.
"Tell me you don't want me." you whispered, your breath mingling with his. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll drop it. I'll never bring it up ever again."
Jack stared at you for a long moment, before he lifted his hand to cup your jaw. His touch was gentle but firm enough to make your stomach coil.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"Maybe…"
"You could have any man you want," he said softly, eyes flickering over your face, "but you had to go after your old man's best friend."
His thumb brushed your jaw before he tilted your face up, making your breath hitch.
"Is it truly what you want?" He asked, leaning forward until his forehead was resting against yours.
"yeah..." you whispered. "More than anything, more than I've ever wanted anyone."
The confession settled heavily between the two of you, adding to the already thick tension. You could practically see Jack thinking too hard, weighting every reason he should stop this before it went any further. He was stuck between wanting you and his loyalty to your dad as his best friend.
But he didn't pull away.
You were close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips, uneven and warm. The line was blurring, and a single shift could change everything.
Then his eyes dropped to your mouth.
That tiny shift shattered whatever restraint was left between you.
You closed the distance first.
The kiss was soft at first. His lips moved against yours slowly, almost hesitant, like he was still giving himself a chance to stop.
Then something shifted.
A quiet sound rumbled in his throat as his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your damp hair before he pulled you closer.
The second kiss stole the air from your lungs. Hesitation fled out of the window, only to be replaced by hunger. All the restraint that had been hanging for months, maybe even longer, snapped all at once. Heat flooded your body instantly, pooling low in your belly. A small sound slipped from you against his mouth before you could stop it.
"Fuck," Jack breathed against your mouth, the word rough and wrecked.
Your tugged at the damp salt and pepper curls at the nape of his neck, stealing a groan from him that rushed straight to your core. You pressed yourself closer instinctively, your chest against his and leaving no space between you anymore.
His hands wandered your body with urgency, one firm hand holding your waist and the other lower at your back. He needed to feel you, to have you closer.
"Get on the dock," he croaked.
You pulled back slowly, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and your breath uneven. The look on his face sent heat spiralling through your body; desire heavy in his gaze, barely contained now that the line had finally been crossed.
You climbed out first, water dripping from your body and onto the wooden boards, then reached back for him. Jack took your hand, hauling himself up with practised ease.
The second he was beside you again, his hands found your waist and he guided you backward gently until you were laying against the warm wood of the dock. He followed immediately, bracing himself above you carefully, mindful of his weightnto not crush you.
His hand found your face again, fingers moving over your skin with tenderness. He brushed damp strands of hair away from your forehead before his touch drifted down your cheek and finally paused at your mouth. His thumb tugged lightly at your bottom lip. You caught it teasingly between your lips, tongue darting out to taste the pad of it.
Jack's breath hitched. "Fuck…" he rasped.
He slowly pulled his thumb from your mouth, his gaze fixed on yours as he dragged his fingers over your jaw. Then his touch drifted lower, tracing the line of your neck with deliberate slowness, drawing a shiver from you.
"Look at you…" he murmured under his breath, like the sight of you alone was enough to unravel him. His gaze wandered over you openly, no longer hiding how much he craved you.
"You're so beautiful." he whispered before capturing your lips again, with much more hunger than before.
His hands settled at your hips as his thigh slid carefully between yours, the pressure sending a sharp wave of heat through your body. Your hips jerked up, grinding against him in search of relief for the ache building low in your stomach. A rough groan vibrated against your lips at the movement, his grip tightening on your hips.
"There…" he said in-between kisses, voice rough with want. "You wanted me, yeah?"
"So much." you replied breathlessly.
Something in his eyes darkened.
"Well," he said softly, brushing his lips against yours again, "take what you need, sweetheart. I'm all yours."
You blinked, hesitating for only a second, before pressing a hand to his shoulder and gently pushing.
Jack let you guide him onto his back without protest, his eyes never leaving yours as your positions shifted. You settled over him slowly, thighs bracketing his hips while your hands spread across his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palms.
You rolled your hips tentatively, watching the way Jack's lips parted as he let out a shaky exhale.
"yeah," he purred. "just like that.."
The sound of his voice strained and wanting sent another rush of heat through you. Encourage by the way he reacted, by the firm grip of his hands guiding your hips, you moved again with more confidence this time, letting go of the last of your hesitation.
"Jack.." his name left your mouth in a whine, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, pressing you down onto his hard length.
"You're doing so good." he panted, his lips parted and swollen red. "That's it, take what you need."
You whimpered as your pace quickened, pleasure tightening low in your stomach. You kept your eyes locked on Jack's, listening to every strained breath that left him, every quiet grunt that slipped past his parted lips with each rolls of your hips.
"f—fuck." Jack grunted, guiding you faster. One of his hands slid lower to your ass cheek, squeezing hard enough to draw a gasp from you before he gave a sharp slap that sent another jolt of heat through your body. "Just like that."
It seemed that it was all it took to send you over the edge. Your hips stuttered as pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling as you came apart above him. Jack swore under his breath at the sight of you, his hands gripping you tighter as he followed moments later with a strained groan, calling your name.
You let yourself collapse on top of him, chest heaving as Jack's arms wrapped securely around your waist. For a long moment afterwards, neither of you spoke nor moved.
The only sounds left were your uneven breaths and the quiet water lapping against the dock beneath you.
Then, Jack pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a second longer than necessary.
"You did so good," he praised in a murmur, voice rough.
The praise made you smile, a feeling of satisfaction and affection settling in your chest.
You stayed curled against him, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing slowly steadying beneath your ear. The world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the lake breeze against your damp skin, and the lingering aftershock still humming through you.
Neither of you pretended this had been a mistake.
Neither of you pretended this was just a moment you could walk away from.
There was only you and him.
An empty house waiting a few meters away.
And two weeks where neither of you were going to act like the tension between you didn't exist anymore.
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summary: coming back to your hometown and seeing how your father interacts with his younger coworkers already made you wish your relationship was different. But having him constantly remind you of such really made it hard to heal, especially on your birthday.
warnings/tags: angst, this is purely me projecting my daddy issues onto the general public, michael robinavitch is his own warning, robby is mean, and reader isn't necessarily right in how she goes about things either but he's much worse at reacting, i'm so sorry y'all... it's not getting any better for anyone any time soon, reader is mentioned to be 25 like- once or twice but just ignore that if it's hella inaccurate, not proofread
wc: 13.1k
"When my weight left the room, did you take a deep breath?"
You started hating your birthday around 12 years old. You parents had already been separated for a few years, and for a while that meant you got two birthdays. But that rapidly came to an end when your dad overbooked himself at the hospital one year, not leaving any room to make it up to you. And then of course, your mother passing the following year.
It stopped being something you celebrated entirely when you left for college. Your friends had asked in passing a few times, but you always managed to allow it to slip through the cracks for the most part, avoiding any sort of celebration and meeting the continuous texts and posts with polite thank-yous.
That's pretty much all you'd get from your dad. Even before you left, even before your mom died, it was almost always just a card and a wish. You knew he loved you, but Michael Robinavitch didn't know his daughter.
And maybe that's why you were absolutely dreading walking into the ED today. Because it was already hard watching him fawn over Whitaker 24/7. And it was hard watching him be gentle with Mel and Santos. And it was hard watching Dana's eyes fill with pity as she perceived your interactions with Robby.
You knew someone was going to say something, and it was going to become a bigger deal than it ever needed to be. It's just another day- I'm not anyone special. Is always what you argued. No one ever really accepted that response.
The first person to make it a thing was Mel. You'd barely made it to the lockers before she appeared beside you and pressed a coffee into your hand- your exact order.
"Happy birthday." You stopped in your tracks. Her sweet smile and adorable sparkle in her eyes stopped your heart for a moment. You stared at the cup.
"You don't even drink coffee..."
"No," she agreed. "But you do."
"How'd you know my order?" You gave her a teasing brow raise and small smile. She shrugged, "I asked Dana."
You winced jokingly, "Mel..."
"It gets better." Your eyes narrowed, and she grinned. "There's a cake in the break room."
You threw your head back with a groan. "It's only a small cake!"
"Mel-" "A very small cake." You couldn't help the tiniest smile on your lips, ever endeared by the blonde. The ache in your heart persisted- touched by her small gift and the likelihood that Dana had made everyone aware of today being your birthday.
"Thank you." You tilted your chin down slightly, shyly holding her gaze. "You're welcome!"
The second person was Santos- you didn't really know what to expect from her, but what you got felt pretty manageable and on brand. She nearly tackled you during a lull between patients, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shoving a granola bar into your scrub pocket.
"Happy birthday, Tweety- you're like- so old now?" she sarcastically drew out her words, a teasing smirk pulling at her lips as you rolled your eyes
"Aren't you only a couple years older than me?"
"Exactly. Which makes us ancient."
The third was Whitaker. You and him hadn't interacted as much as you initially anticipated, since he seemed to be attached to your father's hip, and you preferred to stay as far away from Robby as possible.
Dennis appeared out of nowhere, carrying a chart, throwing a gentle smile your way, "Happy birthday."
"Thank you." Then he disappeared again. The interaction lasted less than three seconds, somehow, it still counted for something.
By noon, you had accumulated enough birthday wishes to make your skin crawl. Texts from college friends. A voicemail from one of your former professors. Even a card from Dana that she'd somehow gotten half the department to sign.
Every single one made your chest feel a little tighter. Because every time someone remembered, it became harder not to notice who hadn't... You felt terrible for keeping track.
But every time Robby walked past, some pathetic part of you still waited. Maybe now. You haven't had much time to interact today. Maybe he's just had a rough morning. Maybe he's busy. Maybe-
"Whitaker!" You looked up instinctively upon hearing his voice. Robby was standing across the department, laughing at something the younger doctor had said, his hand landing briefly on his shoulder. Easy and affectionate, their familiarity read clearly to anyone who looked
Something ugly twisted in your chest.
It didn't feel right to call it jealousy- it was something a little more than that- something that was slightly off from being jealousy. Grief felt like a more appropriate term. Grief for all the versions of your relationship that never existed. For all the conversations you never had. For the fact that your father could tell Whitaker's favorite takeout order and probably couldn't remember what kind of cake you liked as a kid. You looked away before he could catch you staring.
"Look at you leaving again, it's all you know how to do"
You should've known Dana was the first domino- once one person remembered, everyone seemed to remember or be notified. Just little things like Mel's coffee, Trinity's granola bar, stuff like that. You spent most of the morning pretending to hate every second of it, which wasn't entirely a lie.
"You know," Santos said as she leaned against the nurses' station, "most people would just say thank you."
You kept your eyes on your work as you continued charting, "I did say thank you."
"You sighed first."
"It's exhausting being born." She rolled her eyes and watched you continue your charting. A second later, Santos' smile softened.
"Seriously, though." You finally glanced up. "Happy birthday."
Something in her voice made your chest ache. It's not like she said anything life-changing, but that was exactly what made it hurt. It was easy, so easy, for her to say that. She talked like it wasn't hard to care about you- like remembering wasn't some monumental task.
"Thanks," you said quietly. Santos nodded once before pushing away from the desk and walking off. You wished the ache would go away with her, but it remained.
You hated that every well-meaning interaction somehow circled back to your father and what was missing. To the fact that you kept catching yourself looking across the department, not even conscious of it at first.
You felt ridiculous seeking out your father and yearning for his attention like you were 12 years old again. You were a grown woman for Christ's sake- a doctor even! You had your own apartment, your own career, your own life that had stopped involving your father years ago.
And somehow, one forgotten birthday had you acting like a child. You shoved the thought away and focused on your chart, like you'd been doing for the last 20 minutes.
The truth was, part of you just wanted to leave. You started thinking about how much easier it would have been if you just stayed away. At least that way, if Robby forgot your birthday, you'd only be missing a text, and you wouldn't have to worry about seeing him get along perfectly fine with his shiny new doctors.
The failed attempts at reconnecting. The constant comparisons between who your father was to everyone else and who he was to you. Trying so hard to stop yourself from thinking about it so much over the last few weeks.
You winced at the acknowledgment- it all sounded suspiciously like something your mother would've said. Not cruelly, of course, just honestly. She'd always had an irritating ability to call you out in the most supportive way possible. You could practically hear her voice now. Running away before anyone has the chance to disappoint you still counts as running away, sweetheart. You frowned at your computer.
"Don't start." You nearly jumped, turning over your shoulder to see Dana leaning her weight on the desk, her other hand on her hip as she hovered over you
"What?" she chuckled softly
"Jesus Christ." Dana looked delighted. "You were talking to yourself."
You stared at her, eyes widening slightly in humiliation, while Dana stared back with a slight raise of her brow. She narrowed her eyes. "...You're thinking too hard."
You groaned immediately, and she chuckled again, inching closer to pat your head, then leave her hand resting atop it. "So glad to see you're in that classic birthday mood of yours."
You jerked your head slightly out of her hold and gave her a look, "Oh, c'mon, I do not have a look."
Dana leaned back against the desk again, arms crossed over her chest, "You get extra sulky."
She mocked your pout and scrunched brows, while you stared back at her with a deadpan expression. "Go away."
Dana laughed, but didn't go very far as she sat next to you and began her own work. You enjoyed the few moments of silence before she spoke up one last time, "Don't go disappearing on us again, kid. You got it?"
Your movements stilled at that, your heart rate spiking at her ability to read you like an open book. You tried to rid yourself of the guilty expression you were sure was presenting itself clearly. You didn't have the heart to say anything after that.
"They all say you're a light, all I see is a shadow"
Your current conversation with Whitaker started because of a patient, as most conversations did in the ED. You were reviewing a chart when he dropped into the chair beside you with a sigh.
"I would've admitted him." You glanced over. "The chest pain guy?"
He nodded, pursing his lips, "Yeah."
You shook your head slightly, a small crease of confusion forming between your brows, "He didn't need admission."
"I know that now." Whitaker rubbed a hand over his face. "I just didn't see it."
You hummed. That was residency in a nutshell, not seeing it until somebody else pointed it out.
"Robby caught it in like thirty seconds." You kept your eyes on the screen. "Yeah, well, he's been doing this for thirty years."
"Still." Whitaker shook his head. "I swear he looks at a patient once and suddenly knows everything."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "Trust me. He doesn't."
The blonde grinned and tilted his head toward you. "You know what I mean."
Unfortunately, you did. Across the department, Robby was standing at a workstation, explaining something to Javadi while simultaneously signing orders and answering a question from a nurse.
It should've looked chaotic, instead, somehow, it worked. He made it look effortlessly smooth, the years of experience ever present and noticeable in his energy.
People trusted him, listened when he spoke, and maybe that was the part that got under your skin. Because everybody saw the same thing- an attending who stayed late, a mentor, a man who somehow remembered details about patients he'd treated months ago.
But you saw a man who couldn't even remember his kid's birthday. A man who'd prioritized others so much that he'd forgotten important details about himself and those who were supposed to be closest to him.
"He's probably the best attending I've worked with," Whitaker casually carried on. You knew it was a thoughtless comment, not intended to mean anything or carry any specific weight. Still, something in your stomach tightened.
You knew he was talking about Michael Robinavitch, the doctor, obviously not Michael Robinavitch, the father. Which is fine, because they now have to become two completely different people to you.
"Yeah," you heard yourself say. Whitaker looked surprised at your lack of backup.
"Yeah?" You shrugged. "He's good."
Good. Understatement of the century.
Whitaker laughed. "That's all you're giving me? You got to have your own personal doctor growing up and you don't have any more details to give but "good"?"
Not wanting to get into the details of your childhood trauma, you fixed him with a politely unimpressed look, then returned your attention to the chart. "That's all you're getting from me."
Whitaker shook his head and went back to his notes. The conversation ended there, but the feeling lingered. Everyone always talked about Robby like he was a source of warmth and steadiness. Like he was someone you could rely on in moments of doubt. The person you wanted in the room when everything went wrong.
And maybe that was true, maybe that's exactly who he was. You just weren't sure you'd ever met that version of him.
Your eyes shifted above your screen, finding Robby where he was still talking to Javadi. Whitaker followed your gaze for half a second before returning to his chart.
"You know what the scary part is?" You sighed. "That you're still talking about it?"
"I'm serious." You sighed, folding your arms underneath you as you rested against them, then made a vague motion for him to continue. "He catches things I didn't even know I was supposed to be looking for."
"That's generally how experience works." Whitaker rolled his eyes.
"You're impossible." You shrugged and pursed your lips, casually.
"So I've been told." He laughed before turning back to his computer.
The conversation truly ended there, and you should've been able to return to your work. Instead, you found yourself watching him for a moment.
Whitaker had been one of the first people you'd met when you started at the hospital. Back then, you'd thought you'd probably become friends. You were around the same age, seemed to have similar senses of humor, both survived on caffeine and bad decisions- and of course, the fact that you both lived in Nebraska for a period of time
It would've made sense.
Then it never really happened. You got along and joked around every now and then. You'd even grab lunch if a shift lined up right. But there was always something that kept you at arm's length.
For a long time, you'd blamed him- or at least, you'd pretended to. Told yourself he reminded you too much of your ex (which just wasn't true in any way), that he was too awkward for it to be endearing (you were still annoyingly endeared), and numerous other excuses so you didn't have to face the real reason you couldn't quite allow yourself to get close with him.
To put it plainly, you were jealous of Dennis Whitaker.
He always seemed to be with Robby- learning from him, talking to him about god knows what, following him around the department- The eager resident and the attending everyone wanted to impress.
And every time you'd tried getting closer, some ugly, irrational part of your brain had whispered the same thing. Why would he want to be friends with you? Your dad already likes him, so getting close to you would only get in the way of that.
The thought embarrassed you now, especially because it sounded so childish. It wasn't even fair. Whitaker had never done anything to make you feel unwelcome or that he was more concerned with staying on your father's good side than becoming your friend. If anything, he'd always been kind.
The problem was that every conversation somehow became another reminder of the relationship you didn't have. Another reminder that people found connecting with Robby easy.
You finally looked away and, unfortunately, immediately thought of Santos. Trinity Santos, who also adored Robby. Respected him. Talked about him like he hung the moon whenever the conversation drifted toward medicine. And somehow that had never stopped the two of you from becoming friends... If anything, it happened frighteningly fast and that was WITH her acknowledging that he seemed like a shit dad.
A few shifts. A few lunches. A handful of conversations that accidentally became personal. Now she was one of the first people you looked for when you walked into work.
So clearly that wasn't it. Clearly, your problem wasn't people liking Robby, or looking up to him, or wanting his approval- otherwise, Santos would've ended up in the same box as Whitaker.
The realization sat heavily in your chest.
Because if that wasn't the reason, then maybe the issue was simpler. Maybe Whitaker had never actually done anything wrong, or even come close to it. Maybe you'd just looked at him and seen another person getting something you'd wanted your entire life.
And that wasn't his fault. It wasn't Robby's, either- at least not entirely. The thought was uncomfortable enough that you immediately shoved it away.
You hadn't even realized that Whitaker had gotten up to seek out Robby again until you glanced back to where he had been talking to Victoria a few moments ago, only to see Dennis in her place. You returned to your chart.
A second later, Santos appeared beside you, carrying a cup of coffee. "You look annoyed."
"I'm charting."
"You look emotionally annoyed." You sighed deeply and bit your cheek as you spared her an irritated glance. Unfortunately, she took that as confirmation and turned the other way.
"Cause if I call you out, I'm an asshole"
The day rolled on- patients came and went, labs resulted, someone stole your favorite pen- very normal. Almost normal enough to forget what day it was.
You were restocking your pockets outside the supply room when Dana caught up to you. "So."
You immediately sighed. "I already don't like that tone."
"What tone? I don't have a tone-"
"You do- you get this particular tone when you're about to ask me something personal and possibly sensitive." you tried to seem playfully annoyed, but were tired and couldn't help the affectionate smile pulling casually at your lips. Dana's smile matched yours as she nodded, acknowledging your callout before continuing
"I was just wondering if you and your dad had plans after the shift."
Your hands stopped moving more a brief second, as you side eyed her with a raised brow, then immediately resumed.
"No." you breathed out, trying to hide the bitterness and seem as unfazed as possible
"No?" Dana watched you purse your lips and shake your head as you avoided eye contact "No."
She frowned slightly. "I figured maybe dinner or something-"
You laughed before you could stop yourself. It came out sharper than you intended and you immediately felt bad, but unfortunately couldn't bring yourself to keep the outward manifestation of your resentment entirely reeled in
"Dinner. You seriously think Dr. Robby's gonna take me to dinner after this?" Dana's expression shifted immediately. You always had an underlying venom laced through your tone when you called him "Dr. Robby", and made things very clear to everyone that you were in no mood to keep talking about him. But that of course meant nothing to Dana
"You could ask him." she shrugged, reasonable and casual as she tended to be. It was perfectly logical, in the way that most things Dana said were. You stared at the box of IV flushes in your hands. Ask him what? To dinner? Why he forgot? Why it was so hard for him to put in even half the effort he put into this hospital, into your relationship? How exactly was that conversation supposed to go?
Hey, Dad. Happy birthday to me. By the way, do you know it hurts watching you become the father I always wanted for people you've known less than a year?
Ridiculous. Cruel. Selfish. Because if you called him out... You were the asshole. He'd spent decades saving lives, working nights, missing holidays because someone else's emergency couldn't wait, and dealing with the trauma of it all on top of that.
You knew why he'd missed things, you understood it better than most. Hell, you'd chosen the same career and are walking the exact same path. So what right did you have to make him feel guilty for it now?
You set the box back on the shelf a little harder than necessary, with Dana still watching you.
"I don't know," you said finally. The older woman raised a brow, "About?"
"Anything." She nodded slowly, but didn't push. One of the things you appreciated most about Dana was that she usually knew when to stop asking- usually.
"You know..." she said carefully, "I don't think he'd be upset if you asked."
You looked down the hallway- Robby was halfway through explaining something to Whitaker, using his hands the way he always did when he was teaching, to which Whitaker listened intently. Santos wandered over halfway through the explanation without anyone inviting her, and within seconds, the three of them were laughing about something. Your chest helplessly tightened.
"No," you murmured. "I don't think he'd be upset."
Dana followed your gaze. She didn't say anything- she didn't have to. Because the problem had never been whether Robby would be upset, it was whether or not he'd understand why you were.
"So come home, let's fight 'bout the childhood lie, we don't care what the other one thinks"
The opportunity came almost by accident- You were reviewing imaging when Robby stepped up beside your workstation. "Did you see bed twelve's repeat troponin?"
You pulled it up. "Negative."
"That's what I thought." He leaned over your shoulder for half a second, scanning the screen, close enough that you caught the familiar scent of hospital soap and stale coffee.
He nodded once. "Good catch on ordering the repeat."
Your stomach twisted ever so slightly. "Thanks."
You waited patiently as he reached for the mouse and clicked through the rest of the labs. He'd seen you now. He'd spoken to you. There was no way to excuse his forgetfulness this time.
"Can you put in a cardiology consult before you pick up another patient?" Your heartbeat sped up. If you were gonna say something, now would've been the oppurtunity. Surely... surely now was a good time-
"Thanks." Robby took a step back and turned to leave. That was it. Something inside you snapped.
"Anything else?" He looked back.
"What?" You folded your arms.
"I don't know," The words came out before you could stop them. "Seems like you're forgetting something."
His brow furrowed, genuinely confused. "I am?"
Your face dropped for a brief second as you gelt your heart squeeze painfully inside your chest. You burried the feeling and lowered your head for a short moment as you huffed out a humorless laugh
"You tell me." For a second, he just looked at you, trying to figure out where the conversation had gone sideways. Then his expression shifted. "What's with the attitude?"
Your jaw tightened at his cluelessness- his even tone and professionalism just about sending you over the edge. "We're in the middle of a shift."
"I know that."
"Then whatever this is..." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "...it can wait until we're not standing in front of three nurses and a trauma room."
The words landed like a slap, even though there was no harshness to them. It was clean and dismissive, as Robby always tended to be toward people and interactions that he saw as nothing but a mere waist of time.
You glanced around, eyes landing on Perlah and Princess, who were barely pretending not to listen. Whitaker was thankfully nowhere nearby, but the heat of humiliation crawled up your neck. Robby gave you one last look, the kind that said I'm not doing this here. Then, just as another monitor started alarming, he was gone.
You stared after him, not realizing you'd been doing so until Santos walked directly into your line of sight.
"Earth to Mini Ronby." You blinked back to focus, immediately grimacing, "Oh god, don't call me that-"
"Well you're moping around like him, so i thought it was a little more fitting today- besides, I asked if Bed Sixteen was yours."
You glanced down at the tracking board and sighed. "Oh. Yeah."
"You okay?"
"I'm charting."
"Right. Charting. Still as aggressive as before- maybe even worse now."
You looked down, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, unmoving. "...I was thinking."
"I noticed." Santos lingered for another second, long enough that you knew she wasn't buying it, long enough that she almost asked another question. Then a call bell went off, and she peeled away with an absent, "We'll revisit whatever this is."
You were grateful for the interruption, mostly because you had no idea what you would've said. You liked Trinity. She had some idea of your relationship (or lack thereof) with your father, but you never gave her too much information for a multitude of reasons. One, it seemed unprofessional to open up about your daddy issues to your new coworkers, especially when your second reason is because your father just so happens to be everyone's boss. There's also a third reason- that you are just too scared to let someone look at you that close, knowing that it will only a can of worms that you've learned to manage much better on your own.
You picked up the next chart, read the chief complaint, forgot it immediately, then read it again. Chest pain. Right. Focus. Patient first- always. You forced yourself through the HPI, trying to drown out the conversation replaying in your head.
"Seems like you're forgetting something." "I am?" He'd looked genuinely confused. That was the part you couldn't stop thinking about. Like the possibility hadn't even crossed his mind, which somehow hurt more than if he'd forgotten on purpose and was just avoiding saying anything out of awkwardness or just being an intentional asshole.
Because forgetting on purpose at least would've meant he'd made a choice. This... this was just thoughtlessness. This felt like you meant so little to him that he couldn't even be bothered to keep one day in mind.
You hated that your eyes kept drifting toward him. He was already three patients removed from the conversation. Talking with a nurse, checking imaging, stepping into Trauma One- completely absorbed in his work, like nothing had happened. And maybe to him, nothing had. To Robby, it had probably been another brief exchange with his occasionally irritable daughter. Another misunderstanding. Something that would pass.
You wondered how many moments in your life he'd filed away like that. How many times you'd needed him to ask one more question- What's wrong? Talk to me. Why are you upset? -and instead he'd assumed you were just being difficult...
Your pager vibrated- bed sixteen. You exhaled slowly. Maybe you should've started acting like your father (again). Detached from anything personal, focus entirely on your work, and drown yourself in it until it inevitably drives you to the brink. That seemed much easier than dealing with your family at this point.
"Damn." You looked up to see Dana standing on the other side of the desk, watching Robby disappear around the corner, then she looked back at you. She hadn't heard the conversation, she didn't need to, one glance at your face was enough.
She walked over quietly. "You want the good news or the bad news?"
You let out a dry laugh. "I have options?"
"The good news is nobody noticed." You looked toward the other end of the nurses' station, and Dana followed your gaze. "...Nobody who matters."
"And the bad?" She gave you a sympathetic smile. "You look like you're trying really hard not to cry."
Your throat tightened immediately. "I'm not."
"Sure." Before you could answer, a trauma alert echoed overhead. Dana squeezed your shoulder once as she hurried toward the ambulance bay.
"If you wanna kick this rock around, if you've got a bone to pick with me"
Robby noticed your avoidance. Not immediately, of course- why would he? You hadn't raised any concern to him or seemed particularly off. The only reason he even started paying attention was because, after all these years, the one thing he'd gotten pretty good at recognizing was when his daughter was avoiding him.
It wasn't exactly a skill he'd ever wanted to develop.
He caught it the third time you rerouted yourself around the nurses' station. The fourth time you asked Dr. Al-Hashimi a question you normally would've brought to him. The fifth time you looked up, saw him, and immediately buried yourself in a chart.
He frowned. "Everything okay?"
Whitaker glanced up from the computer. "Hm?"
"With Y/n." Whitaker followed his line of sight. You were halfway across the department talking with Santos.
"Seems fine." Robby nodded absently.
He wasn't convinced. You didn't look upset. Maybe irritated, and if that were the case, you were definitely irritated with him... again.
He replayed the exchange from earlier- the first time the two of you really had a moment to talk all day.
"Seems like you're forgetting something." What had you meant? He came up empty. If you had a problem with one of his decisions, you usually just came out and said so. If you thought he'd missed something medically, you'd tell him. If you wanted to argue... well.... you'd never exactly struggled with that.
His mouth twitched despite himself. Some habits never changed.
Yet, others certainly had. There'd been a time when the arguments ended with tears and slammed bedroom doors and twenty minutes later he'd find you in the kitchen making yourself a sandwich like nothing had happened. A time when he'd knock softly on your door before bed and ask if you were still mad, you'd shrug. He'd tell you he loved you anyway.
Nowadays, there weren't many arguments. Just long stretches of polite conversation... holiday phone calls... careful dinners that never quite ventured beyond work, the weather, or whatever medical journal one of you had read recently.
Somewhere along the way, the shouting had stopped, and most of the reflection Robby saw of himself in you had faded. He wasn't sure when silence and absence of pushback had become worse than the constant bickering.
He'd spent years wondering if things would get easier once you grew up. Instead, it sometimes felt like the older you got, the less either of you knew how to reach across whatever distance had settled between you.
He hated it, like any father who loved his daughter would, he just didn't know what to do about it. Every attempt seemed to land wrong- call too often, and he worried he was intruding. Give you space, and it felt like neglect. Offer advice, and he sounded like your attending instead of your father. Stay quiet, and he sounded like neither...
So he settled into the uncomfortable middle- close enough to convince himself he was trying, far enough away that he couldn't make things any worse. Or so he hoped.
He looked back to where you were laughing at something Santos had said now, completely at ease. The sight was oddly reassuring- at least someone was making you laugh. He was glad you weren't alone here- Robby always worried about you making and keeping friends (you were always such a sensitive and genuine kid, and people took advantage of that), and I guess that's one thing that will never change.
So maybe it wasn't that serious... maybe you'd just had an odd moment. Maybe it has just been a long shift and you were stressed and tired. He let himself believe that, not because he was certain it was true, but because the alternative- that there was something bigger he'd missed again- sat like a stone in his stomach.
He let the thought go. If you really had a bone to pick with him... you'd tell him. Wouldn't you?
Across the department, you happened to glance up, your eyes meeting his for half a second. He was about to walk over, but Robby looked away first, answering a nurse's question then moving quickly to tend to another patient. The moment dissolved before either of you could do anything with it.
Just another almost-conversation, another thing left unsaid. Another day he told himself there would be time to fix it later.
"Oh, we can fight like we used to fight"
You ducked into the medication room mostly for the silence- the fluorescent lights hummed steadily overhead, the sterile smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant settling heavily in the air. Shelves lined every wall, stacked with neatly labeled bins and medication drawers that somehow always looked untouched despite the constant traffic through them. It was one of the few places in the department where the chaos outside felt muffled, reduced to distant monitor alarms and the occasional overhead page bleeding faintly through the walls.
You leaned against the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as you let yourself breathe for exactly three seconds. One in, one out. One in, one out. One in-
The door opened again, and you almost laughed as you dropped your head. Robby stepped inside, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft click. The room suddenly felt smaller. "There you are."
You busied yourself reorganizing a drawer that definitely didn't need reorganizing. "Need something?"
He watched you for a moment before answering. "I wanted to make sure we're okay."
Your hands stilled, and you took one slow breath before answering, carefully schooling your expression into something neutral despite the fact that he couldn't even see your face. "We're at work."
"I know."
"So we're fine."
"That's not how that works, nor is that what I asked." You shut the drawer a little harder than necessary, finally turning around to face him with your arms crossed, "What do you want me to say?"
"The truth would be a good place to start." He quipped, his typical already-about-to-explode sarcasm dripping from the words. You laughed quietly, "Sure..."
His brow furrowed at your attitude. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." you shrugged, clearly bothered by something. Robby glanced around incredulously, jaw ticking once his gaze landed back on you.
"You've been avoiding me all day." You barked out a laugh at that, eyed wide with disbelief, "I've been avoiding you?"
"Okay- maybe not at first, but after our little conversation, ya definitely have been"
"yeah, cuz I need to do my fucking job-"
"Watch your mouth." His response was automatic. Not even particularly stern, just parental. The same tone he'd used when you were fifteen, when you'd tracked mud through the house after practice, when you didn't do the dishes within the first ten minutes of him asking. The familiarity of it irritated you more than it should have.
"Whatever- I've been working."
"You've been doing both." The room fell quiet. Robby crossed his arms, studying you with that infuriatingly patient expression that made him such a good attending. "You've been snapping at me since we talked earlier."
"I snapped once."
"You snapped once out loud." The words landed before either of you had time to soften them. Your jaw tightened, and your brows furrowed.
"What, so you've been keeping score?" You knew your attitude was not one you should be having with your father, and if you were in a better mood, maybe you'd give him some credit for seeming more patient than usual.
"No." he shook his head, mouth already open for the next sentence, but you cut him off, "Could've fooled me."
"I'm trying to understand what's going on here, Y/n."
"Why?" The question came out sharper than you'd intended. "You haven't seemed particularly interested all day."
Something flickered across his face- confusion, then hurt.
"What is that supposed to mean?" The room suddenly felt too bright. You looked away. "Forget it."
"Nope." His voice stayed calm, but firmer now. "You don't get to throw something like that at me and then tell me to forget it."
You let out a slow breath through your nose, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek. "This is exactly why I don't say anything."
"Because I ask you to explain?"
"Because you don't hear me until I finally get frustrated." Robby stared at you, shoulders sagging just enough to be noticeable. "I've been standing here asking what's wrong, honey."
"Now you are." A wave of silence fell over you as the energy began to shift. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, exhaustion written plainly across his face now. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper than they had this morning.
"If you've got something to say to me kid, now's the time to say it... I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, but you know how things get here. I'm giving you the time to let me know what's going on..."
The challenge wasn't angry, it was tired. Very tired. For just a second, he wasn't your attending, or even Dr. Robby. He wasn't the respected department chief everyone looked to for answers. He was just your dad. He was looking at his daughter and realizing he'd somehow lost the thread of the conversation hours ago.
"I'm here."
Your eyes met his and you felt your defenses drop concerningly fast. Your eyes widened and stung as tears began to film over. Your heart clenched again- you felt a little sick. For one dangerous second, you considered it- telling him everything. How every missed recital, every empty seat, every birthday uncelebrated took a bigger toll on you than you ever fully realized until now. How every time you'd watched him give someone else the version of himself you'd spent your childhood wishing for, you had to fight yourself not to act out.
The words rose into your throat, then died there. You didn't even know where to begin... The words climbed into your throat. One sentence, that was all it would've taken.
But where did you even begin?
With your mother- the divorce? With Jake? With the birthdays? With the fact that you weren't even sure if you were angry anymore, or just… sad? The weight of twenty-something years couldn't fit into one conversation... so instead, you shook your head.
"It doesn't matter." His shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. "It clearly does."
"It doesn't."
"You don't believe that."
"No," you admitted quietly. "I don't."
The admission hung between you as neither of you moved. A knock sounded against the door.
"Dr. Robinavitch?" one of the nurses called from the hallway. "EMS is two minutes out."
Robby closed his eyes for the briefest second.
"Coming." He looked back at you. "We're not done with this."
You bit your cheek, biting back the tears and overflow of emotions that were threatening to pour out of you. You nodded and raised your brows slightly, acknowledging Robby's words.
"We're not." he reaffirmed, then opened the door and disappeared back into the controlled chaos of the department. You waited until his footsteps faded before following.
"I wish you could know me"
It was probably close to an hour later when the hallway emptied as transport rolled your patient toward CT. For the first time all day, neither of you had somewhere you needed to be.
Robby sighed as he approached you, observing as you avoided eye contact, your body language giving that of an animal with their guard up, ready to run at any sign of danger. "I'm not looking for a fight."
You laughed under your breath. "Could've fooled me."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." He rested a hand on his hip, visibly searching for the right words. He wore the same careful expression he wore with difficult families- nervous residents- patients he knew were about to hear bad news. It irritated you immediately.
"Can we just..." He exhaled. "Reset?"
You blinked. "Reset."
"Yeah."
"As in pretend none of this happened?"
"As in start over." You stared at him. It sounded so easy when he said it- like whatever had been building between you all day was just another misunderstanding, something that could be wiped clean with a deep breath and a different approach.
"You've always been stubborn," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough that he was trying to lighten the mood. "I know how you get."
Something in your chest snapped taut, and your semi-irritated expression shifted into deeper, more visible distress. Robby clocked it, and his smile faded. "What?"
"You think you know me."
"I do know you."
"No." The word came faster than you meant it to. "You know who I was, and even then, you didn't know that person either."
Silence. He frowned. He looked genuinely taken aback.
"I don't..." He stopped himself, then tried again. "I've known you your whole life."
"You've known of my whole life." His face changed immediately. It was all the subtle cues that felt massive to you- his shoulders dropped just a fraction, his jaw tightened, like he'd physically felt the words you launched at him.
"That's not fair..." his voice came out much softer, "You don't get to say that."
"I don't?" You searched his face, your own expression caught somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak. "Why not?"
"Because it's not true." Your lips parted, but for a moment nothing came out. You studied him instead- the lines around his eyes, the streaks of gray that hadn't been there a decade ago, the exhaustion sitting heavy across his shoulders after hours of running an emergency department.
You knew this man. At least… you knew pieces of him.
The physician. The attending. The father who remembered to call when your car broke down but forgot to ask how the vacation you'd been planning for months had gone. The man who loved you with every part of himself... and somehow still felt like a stranger.
"Isn't it?"
Robby searched your face, looking for some indication that you didn't really mean it. He found none.
Instead, he took another slow step toward you, leaving only a few feet between the two of you. Close enough that he could see the shine of tears gathering in your eyes. Close enough that you could see the uncertainty beginning to creep into his. "I was there."
"Were you?" The question hung between you. You weren't loud or even dramatic with your delivery, the weight of it all coming from how genuinely you asked. Like you sincerely wanted to know whether the two of you had somehow lived completely different versions of the same life.
"I was there when you were born." You almost laughed, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly, the corner of your mouth threatening to curl into something bitter.
"When you broke your arm after doing gymnastics for only a month." His voice remained steady, measured. As though walking back through your childhood might somehow help you find each other again.
"When you graduated high school." his eyes stayed fixed on yours, not even noticing the resignation starting to waft off of you. "When-"
"You can list milestones all day." You cut him off before he could finish. "That doesn't mean you know anything about me."
His mouth opened, then immediately closed again. You hated the look on his face. Not because he looked angry, but because he looked confused, like he was mentally flipping through years of memories, trying to understand how they had somehow become insufficient.
"I know you're stubborn," he said quietly. The certainty returned to his voice just enough that you knew he'd found something to hold onto.
"I know you overwork yourself."
"I know you hate asking for help- and I'll admit, that is definitely my fault." A sad smile ghosted across his face before disappearing just as quickly.
"I know you overthink." He looked directly at you again. "Everything."
"Not because you're scared of what people think of you…" His voice softened, "but because you never want to hurt someone. Even if it's an accident. Even if it's not your fault."
Every sentence felt like another tiny cut. None of the statements he said were necessarily wrong; they were just incomplete.
Surface-level observations, things any attending who'd worked with you for six months could tell you. You wanted him to say something only a father would know.
Anything.
Your favorite book. The band you'd been obsessed with in college. The way you still called your mom's sister every Sunday. The fact that you'd switched specialties three times before landing in emergency medicine because you were terrified of becoming him.
Anything.
"I know my daughter." You swallowed hard. It always hurt so bad to hear him call you that. My daughter. Not your name. Not the woman standing in front of him. Just the role you'd been assigned before you'd ever become your own person. You wished hearing him call you that filled you with pride and joy... maybe it's time to give up on that dream.
The realization was so sharp it almost made you laugh. He really thought that was enough. He really believed knowing who you'd been at seventeen meant he knew who you were at twenty-five. And somehow that hurt more than him forgetting your birthday ever could.
Because birthdays were dates. This was you.
You looked at him for a long moment. And all you could think was I wish you knew me. Not your daughter. Me. Before you could say anything else, a voice echoed from down the hall.
"Dr. Robinavitch!" Both of you turned instinctively. Dana was waving from the nurses' station. "We need both of you."
The moment shattered. Robby looked back at you. "We are finishing this conversation later."
You gave a humorless smile. "Maybe."
But for the first time all day, you weren't sure you wanted to.
"And I wish I could know you much more sometimes"
Dana found Robby first, standing alone in the physician workroom, staring at a chart he'd already signed. "You've been reading the same page for about three minutes."
He looked up, almost startled, but said nothing as he stared owlishly at the older woman. "The chart."
"Oh..." He glanced down at it before setting it aside. "I guess I have."
Dana stepped farther into the room, letting the door drift nearly shut behind her. She leaned casually against the counter, arms folding loosely across her chest.
She'd known Robby long enough to recognize when he was hiding behind work. And she'd known him even longer than that. "You wanna tell me what happened?"
Robby let out a quiet breath through his nose. "It was nothing."
"Mhm."
"It was." She didn't argue, didn't call him out, didn't tell him she knew he was lying. Dana simply waited. Silence had always been one of her greatest strengths- she understood that people were remarkably uncomfortable with it, especially Robby.
"I don't know what I'm missing-" There it was.
"I feel like every time I think we're making progress..." He shook his head. "I say the wrong thing."
"You and Y/n?" He nodded once, barely anything.
"I don't even know what we were arguing about." The admission sounded almost embarrassing.
"I know she was upset... I know it was about me. I just..." He rubbed a tired hand over his face. "I don't know why."
Dana watched him carefully, studying him for a long moment. Not with judgment, but with quiet concern. "Did you ask?"
Robby sighed, shaking his head again, "I tried."
"And?" A sad, humorless laugh. "Apparently, I don't know my own daughter."
The words settled heavily between them. He stared at the floor for a long moment afterward, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the edge of the countertop as though he needed something to ground himself.
"I keep thinking if I just give her enough space, she'll come to me." He shook his head almost immediately afterward, frustrated with himself. "Then I try getting closer, and it feels like I push her even farther away."
The helplessness in his voice was unmistakable now. He wasn't asking Dana for advice or looking for reassurance, he was simply exhausted. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"I don't know how to be her dad anymore." Dana's expression softened. "You never stopped being her dad."
He smiled sadly, shaking his head. "No... I'm starting to think, at some point, I did..."
Silence settled between them. After a few moments, he spoke again, "I know she thinks I don't care."
"I know she probably thinks work always came first." He swallowed.
"The truth is..." He searched for the words carefully, almost as if saying them incorrectly now would somehow make the past worse. "I spent so much of her childhood trying to build a career that would make her proud- something that could guarantee she was taken care of."
His eyes drifted toward the department.
"I thought if I worked hard enough, she'd understand someday." A quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. "I put a lot of faith in 'someday.'"
Dana didn't interrupt. She knew better.
"I kept thinking there'd be more time." His voice became distant, like he wasn't talking to Dana anymore, like he was talking to every version of himself that had made the same promise.
"When she graduated, when residency was over, when she wasn't so busy... When I wasn't." He shook his head slowly, his gaze lingered on nothing in particular.
Almost too quietly, he continued. "There was always another milestone we'd get through first."
Another long silence, then, almost too quietly, "I think what she saw..." He looked down at his hands, "was me making time for everyone else."
"Jake," The name alone seemed to hurt him to say in this context. "I coached his rec league team one summer."
His voice was full of disbelief, like he still couldn't reconcile the memory.
"I was there- I knew his friends, I helped him with homework." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Y/n was already a senior by then, I'm pretty sure."
"I told myself it was different- she didn't need me in the same way." The words sounded hollow even to him as he looked back at Dana.
"She was independent... had her own life." Even as he said it, he could hear how empty the justification sounded.
"I thought giving her space was what a good father did." He laughed once, no humor in it. He stopped, his eyes glassed over. "And then one day I looked up and realized I'd learned more about someone else's kid in six months than I'd learned about my own daughter in six years."
Dana's heart sank. She knew he wasn't exaggerating, wasn't trying to make himself look guilty. Robby had an epiphany, simply reaching a conclusion he'd spent years avoiding. He sat quietly with it for another few seconds before speaking again, almost like he was thinking out loud.
"I don't think she ever cared that I was there for Jake..." He paused, processing something in real time. "I think she cared that I proved I could be."
Dana found you almost forty minutes later. You were pretending to organize the supply cart. She knew you were pretending because you'd been holding the same box of gauze for at least two minutes, flipping it over every few seconds
"You planning on counting every q-tip?" You looked over your shoulder. "...Maybe."
Dana smiled faintly. "You okay?"
"No." The honesty surprised both of you. She stepped beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.
"I always feel guilty after we fight." Dana stayed silent, as she had for Robby, knowing just how alike you truly are.
"I know he loves me." Your voice cracked around the words. "I know that- I've never questioned that."
You stared down at the unopened box in your hands. "But loving someone and knowing them aren't the same thing."
Dana nodded once, humming softly.
"I don't want a different dad." You blinked hard.
"I just..." The words caught in your throat. "I want him to be curious."
Dana frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." You laughed at yourself. "I get so excited when I learn something new about him."
The books he was reading. The music he liked. The stories from residency he'd never told before. The weird fact that he couldn't stand olives but always picked them off pizza instead of just getting a frozen pizza without them.
"They're stupid little things, but I feel so special when he tells me about them... He gets so excited, and I just feel like the coolest person ever when I'm the one he decides to share things with- especially when they're little things."
Your voice cracked throughout the explanation, your sad smile dropping into a frown as you barely contained your tears.
"But every time I find one out, I think..." I think you actually like me. I think you like me as an individual and don't just love me as your kid. "Like I'm meeting him again as someone else."
You glanced up at Dana. "I want that from him."
You swallowed. "I want him to ask me what I'm listening to."
"What I do when I'm not here. What I like to cook. Who I spend time with."
"I want him to know me because he wants to." Not because he felt obligated. Not because you shared a last name. Just... because you were you. Your eyes filled despite your best efforts.
"I still get excited when he asks me anything that's not about medicine." You laughed through tears that had begun to overflow. "Do you know how pathetic that is?"
Dana reached over, taking the box of gauze from your hands before you crushed it completely.
"No." She spoke quietly. "I think it's incredibly human."
You looked away. The department buzzed around you. Patients arrived. Phones rang. Someone laughed somewhere down the hall. Life kept moving.
"I just wish..." You stopped, and Dana waited, patient as ever. You shook your head. "...I wish I could know him more sometimes."
"And I wish..." Your voice was barely above a whisper now, "he wanted to know me, too."
"Wish I could do nothing with you"
As much as you claimed to hate your birthday, you knew that wasn't entirely true. You hated what birthdays represented- the expectation, the waiting, the tiny, childish hope that maybe this year would feel different. Because some embarrassingly stubborn part of you still wanted to be celebrated... to be seen. Not with balloons or cake or some elaborate surprise. Just... known.
The problem was that admitting that out loud felt infinitely more humiliating than pretending you didn't care. Because then you'd have to explain what you wanted. You'd have to tell people how to love you... how celebrating you didn't have to mean going all out on an expensive gift or a massive party, but rather something thoughtful and that showed some effort.
The thought alone made your stomach turn, so you never asked. You shrugged off birthdays, not daring to even mention the date just to be safe. You rolled your eyes at cards even though you knew it was going straight into the box of notes and cards from everything else you refused to get rid of, thanking people with a soft, embarrassed smile.
"You should ask him." You looked up from the chart you'd been reading to where Dana stood across from you with two coffees in hand.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She held one out. "You've spent the last hour staring at him every time you think he isn't looking."
"I have not."
"You have." You accepted the coffee anyway, a slight raise to your brow.
"I don't know why you're acting like he's the one who has to make the first move."
You laughed quietly. "Because he forgot my birthday?"
Dana's expression softened. "I'm not talking about your birthday."
"'kay, well I am."
"I know, sure..." She leaned against the counter. "But I really don't think you are."
The words settled somewhere uncomfortably deep. Before you could answer, Dana spoke again, "Ask him to dinner."
You stared at her. "...What?"
"After shift." She shrugged. "Just dinner."
The idea was so absurd you almost laughed. "Dana."
"What?"
"He'd think I was dying." She smiled. "See? That's exactly my point."
You looked across the department. Robby was finishing a conversation with Whitaker, rubbing absently at the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted... older than he had this morning.
For a second, you tried to picture the two of you sitting across from each other at some diner. No pagers. No patients. No charts. Just dinner. The image hurt more than you expected.
You honestly couldn't remember the last time you had dinner, just the two of you. What would you even talk about? Would he even care to talk to you about anything that wasn't related to medicine? What would he order? Did he still drown his fries in pepper? Would he still let you steal a bite off his plate without asking, or would he scold you instead of laughing and stealing a bite off yours?
You wanted to tell him about your apartment and how you'd finally started decorating. About the herbs you'd somehow managed to keep alive for six months. About the niche anime Mel had gotten you hooked on.
You wanted to know what he'd been reading lately. Whether or not he was sleeping any better. If he still listened to that old jazz station on his drive home when it rained.
You wanted all the little things. The things people learned accidentally when they loved each other loudly. You wanted to do absolutely nothing with your dad and know absolutely everything.
That felt impossible.
Dana nudged your shoulder. "You don't have to solve twenty years tonight." You looked down into your coffee. "Just ask him to dinner."
You took a slow breath, then another. "...Okay."
The word came out so quietly it barely sounded like you. Dana smiled, clapping a hand on your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch.
Across the department, Robby looked up just as you started walking toward him. He offered a tired smile when he saw you coming, your heart immediately started pounding.
Maybe this could be different. Maybe this could be the start of something. You had no idea that before the night was over, it would become the worst fight either of you had ever had.
"Leave it all on the table"
You almost turned around twice. The first time was because you caught sight of Whitaker asking Robby something on the other side of the department. The second because you convinced yourself this had been a terrible idea from the start.
Dana, who'd apparently decided she was emotionally invested in this now, caught your eye from the charge desk. She made a tiny motion with her head, telling you to go. You shot her a look that very clearly communicated I'm going to kill you later, and she just smiled. Traitor.
You waited until Robby had stepped into one of the empty consult rooms to finish a phone call before following a minute later, lingering awkwardly in the doorway until he noticed you.
He took in how you tried to contain your anxious fidgeting and doe-eyed, patient stare, and his own expression softened. "Hey."
"Hey."
He tucked his phone into his pocket. "You need something?"
Your stomach immediately tightened, not necessarily affected by the words themselves, but by how casual he sounded. How gentle he seemed to be trying to be.
"I, uh..." God. Why was this so hard? You cleared your throat. "I was wondering..."
He waited patiently, which was quite uncharacteristic- especially when he was working- especially when it came to you.
"...if you wanted to grab dinner after shift." For a second, he just looked at you, then he smiled so softly it hurt your heart.
"Yeah." The answer came easily. "I'd like that, sweetheart."
Your shoulders loosened before you even realized they'd been tense, your eyes stinging with emotion you didn't even acknowledge had been bubbling in your chest. "Okay."
"Okay." Robby nodded as an awkward silence settled between you. Neither of you moved. It almost felt... Normal. Like what you assumed a good relationship between a parent and their child would feel like. Robby rubbed the back of his neck.
"I know today's been..." He searched for the word. "...weird."
Your smile faded. He noticed. "I didn't like how we left things earlier."
"I don't either." Another brief moment of silence hung between you, as if you were both still scared of saying something that could set off a land mine.
"I figured maybe we could just..." He shrugged. "Talk."
The word lodged somewhere behind your ribs. Talk. Finally. You nodded. "Yeah... yeah, I'd like that."
He let out a small breath. "Good."
Then, trying to lighten the mood in the way fathers often do when they're uncomfortable, he smiled again. "Maybe after we've both had something to eat."
You huffed a quiet laugh. "Probably."
"You're always in a better mood after food."
The comment should've been harmless, you knew he meant it as such, but something about it cracked open the frustration you'd been trying to keep contained all day. You should've just let it go... you knew he was just joking. But part of you thought maybe he was trying to drive you insane at this point. That he was acting clueless and throwing out harmless jokes that he knew would send you over the edge.
Of course, he thought you were just hungry. Just tired. Just irritable after a long shift. Just like every other argument you'd ever had. You stared at him for a second longer than you meant to, and he noticed immediately. "What?"
"You really think that's what this is?"
His smile faltered. "What?"
"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "You think I just need dinner?"
Confusion settled across his face, hands coming up in defense. "I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"I was making a joke."
"I know." Your voice was soft and breathy, filled with disappointment. Disappointed in your father for not getting it, and disappointed in yourself for being so sensitive.
"You alway make everything smaller than it is."
Silence lingered as Robby blinked. He shook his head slightly, clearly confused again, but aware that this was a touchy conversation again, "I wasn't trying to."
"I know." And somehow, again... that made it worse. Because if he wasn't trying, then this was just who the two of you were- a father who thought a meal could smooth over years, and a daughter who couldn't stop hearing dismissal where he meant comfort.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“You haven’t even said happy birthday to me yet...” Your composure cracks slightly- not anything noticeable to the general public, but the most obvious shift to a man who has watched you crumble many times over the years.
Robby’s face turns red, morphing from irritation to confusion and slight horror, “what’re you talking about?”
You let out a defeated sigh and glance away briefly, clenching your jaw and biting your cheek “it’s my fucking birthday, Dad…”
His brain short-circuited for a moment, practically resetting as you frowned in front of him, actively trying to push back a persistent wave of tears. It absolutely broke his heart.
“I know that- you think I don’t know that?” He closed in on you, lowering his chin as if making himself smaller would minimize the impact of the conversation.
“You’ve watched every other person in this hospital say something and all you did was give me a weak ass side hug! You didn't even say happy birthday to me...“ you felt like a child again as you began to break down in front of your father, the last bits of your tough exterior slipping away.
You really thought you’d have a better grip on your emotions when it came to him now, after so many years of rewriting your brain and spending time with people who actually put effort in knowing you. But it seems like you’ll always be that little girl who just desperately wants to be seen and understood by her father…
"Y/n, I knew it was your birthday the second I saw you this morning."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"I-" He stopped, brows pinched together as he replayed the day. The hug. Talking about dinner. The conversation outside CT. The argument. His stomach dropped. "...I thought I did."
"You didn't."
"I..." He swallowed. "I meant to."
You stared at him. "You meant to."
"I hugged you." He immediately felt shitty after saying it. I hugged you. And that should've meant something because we never hug anymore. What the fuck Robby?
"Okay?" you threw your arms up
"I figured I'd say it when things settled down." Your laugh was hollow. "We work in a hospital"
"Exactly- It got busy." You cut him off, "It always gets busy."
He rubbed a tired hand over his face. "I don't know what you want me to say right now except that I'm sorry."
"You're apologizing because you forgot to say the words-" You shook your head.
"I'm upset because if you actually remembered..." Your voice cracked. "...then that means you made a hundred different choices today where you still didn't say them."
Silence hung in the air as he floundered, trying to find the best thing to say, "I wasn't choosing not to..."
You let out another disbelieving laugh. "Dana made sure everyone who worked here knew it was my birthday..."
There was another long, guilty pause before you continued, "Mel brought me my exact coffee order, even though she doesn't even drink coffee so she would've had no reason to stop otherwise"
"Santos has been shoving birthday cake protein bars in my pockets all day, knowing I'm only gonna take a bite of one every two and a half hours"
"Whitaker got me a card and we're not even friends!" You looked him dead in the eye. "They didn't have 20 something years to remember me, and they still did something."
The words landed hard. "I remembered you."
The conviction returned to his voice for the first time in several minutes, like he was so sure you couldn't take this away from him.
"did you?"
"I remembered my daughter's birthday-"
"But not your daughter." Robby physically recoiled, the movement so instinctive it looked as though you'd shoved him backward. His jaw flexed once, then again, his lips parting before he could think of anything to say. For a brief, awful second, he simply stared at you, searching your face for some sign that you'd take it back. Instead, all he found were tears.
"That is not what this is." His voice had become firmer now, steadier, like he was trying to hold onto the conversation before it slipped completely out of his hands.
"Then what is it?"
"It's me making a mistake, Y/n." You shook your head at the rise in his tone. "It's you making the same mistake that you've been making."
His expression shifted. The guilt that had been sitting plainly on his face all morning slowly began giving way to something else. No matter what he said, Robby knew it wasn't reaching you, and he unfortunately could breathe through his own frustrations for so long.
"I said I was sorry."
"I know."
"What else am I supposed to do?"
"You don't know?" your voice cracked with disbelief
"No, I don't!" His voice came up for the first time. "Because every time I think I understand why you're upset, you tell me it's actually about something else."
"It is about something else!" The words ripped out of you before you could try to calm yourself down, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you'd been trying to keep buried.
"Then tell me what it is!" His own voice climbed to meet yours. Even though he hadn't changed much, he had gotten better about yelling- but old habits die hard. His hands came up for only a second before dropping back to his sides, fingers flexing against his scrub pants.
There was desperation there now, replacing the measured patience he'd walked into the room with. He was carefully balancing the need to win and the want to understand.
"I HAVE BEEN." Your answer echoed off the walls, louder than you'd intended. You could feel your throat burning already, your chest tightening with every breath. Tears blurred your vision again, but you refused to wipe them away.
"You keep talking in circles!"
"Because you keep missing the point!" You took an involuntary step toward him, the space between you shrinking without either of you realizing it. It wasn't threatening. It was pleading.
"You won't let me fix it!" The words came out sharper than he'd intended.
"You can't fix something you still don't understand!" The words echoed between you, neither of you noticing how loud you'd become.
Robby took one slow breath, forcing himself back down. "Help me understand."
You looked at him- really looked at him- and for just a second... you almost opened up. Almost told him that it wasn't about birthdays, that it was about years of feeling invisible. About every little girl moment that had quietly accumulated into this one. But then he beat you to the punch
"I can't fix twenty years in one conversation." Something in you hardened immediately. "I didn't ask you to."
"No?" His own patience was beginning to fray now. "Because that's what this feels like."
"You don't get to decide what this feels like for me."
"And you don't get to decide that nothing I've done since then matters." The room fell silent. "I have spent years trying."
"You think so?" You laughed bitterly. "You have no idea who I am."
"I am standing here trying to know you!" Robby was practically pleading at this point, his tone shifting from begging to anger, giving you emotional whiplash.
"No, you're trying to stop feeling guilty!" The words hit harder than you intended. Robby actually flinched and froze in his place, as if your words had tranqulizised him.
"I am trying to be your father."
"You had twenty-five years to do that."
"I had a job!"
"You had plenty of time play house with someone else's family!" There was a chilling silence. You knew it was a low blow- it was a sore subject to this day, though it was much worse back when it was active and fresh. However, you didn't even let Robby try to defend himself from that one, "Every other parent in this hospital was just as busy-"
"I was trying to keep a roof over your head!"
"I would've traded the house for you!" The sentence hung between you like smoke. Robby looked at you as though you'd slapped him. His voice, when it came, was quieter than it had been all day. "I don't think you mean that."
"I do."
"You don't."
"I absolutely do." He shook his head. "No. You don't get to rewrite your childhood because you're angry."
Your eyes widened. "Rewrite it?"
"That's exactly what you're doing right now."
"No, I'm telling you how it felt." "And I'm telling you that's not the whole story."
"You think I don't know that?" Your voice cracked. "I know you loved me, Dad... I know you worked hard. I know you thought you were doing the right thing- but none of that changes what it was like to be your daughter."
Robby dragged both hands over his face- he looked truly exhausted. "I don't know what you want from me anymore, Y/n. I just don't know-"
"I want you to stop defending yourself long enough to hear me."
"I have been hearing you."
"No-"
"I have-"
"No, you've been waiting for your turn to explain why none of this is actually your fault." Something finally snapped.
"ENOUGH" The single word cut through the room. "I have apologized. I have listened. I have admitted I made mistakes."
His breathing had quickened now. "But every time I take one step toward you, you move the finish line."
He looked at you with tears gathering in his own eyes, voice breaking as he spoke "So tell me...what exactly would ever be enough?"
You opened your mouth, but were left without an answer. There unforutnaltey wasn't anything he could give you in that moment that would ease the heartache you've been harboring.
He nodded once, slow and defeated "That's what I thought."
He turned toward the door. "You know what I think?"
He didn't look back as his hand settled on the doorknob. "I think you've spent so long defining yourself by everything I got wrong... that you've forgotten to leave room for anything I've tried to get right."
Another beat. "And that's not all on me anymore."
The words landed like a knife. "You don't have to forgive me."
His voice was almost hollow now. "But at some point, you have to decide whether you actually want a father..."
Finally, he looked over his shoulder. "...or whether you'd rather keep punishing the one you've got."
It was cruel, Robby knew that. He knew the words would hurt you, especially because they weren't true and especially because you'd already been harboring the guilt of a child who felt responsible for the feelings of every adult in her life.
He saw it on your face and immediately regretted letting the words slip out. The devastation dragging your lips into a permanent frown, and you eyes into the saddest, most disappointed gaze. The way your shoulders caved inward. The tears that stopped looking angry and started looking heartbroken.
For one impossible second, he almost took it back. Instead, he looked away. More tears fell freely as Robby turned around and took a few steps toward the door. His hand twisted the knob, about to pull it open.
"Yeah?" you sobbed, sniffling and taking a deep breath before shouting with your whole chest, "WELL, YOU'RE NOT THAT FUCKING GREAT EITHER"
Your throat hurt, raw from a combination of the crying and screaming, and sore from the tension of holding everything in for so long. Your father stilled, practically frozen. He didn't flinch, didn't sigh, he didn't even tilt his head back in your direction. Robby just opened the door and walked out.
The click of the door echoed far louder than it should have, and then there was nothing. No hospital chaos or background noise, just you.
Your knees gave out before you even realized they were shaking. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter, your breathing ragged as another sob tore its way out of your chest.
How had dinner plans turned into this? How had wanting your dad to care somehow become telling each other the worst things you'd ever thought?
You squeezed your eyes shut. You'd finally done it this time... You left it all on the table- every moment you'd spent wondering why everyone else seemed to know him better than you did. every awful, ugly thought you'd buried because saying them out loud made them real. And yes, you still didn't feel any lighter, just hollow.
A quiet knock sounded against the door. You didn't answer. It opened anyway. Dana's face fell the second she saw you. "Oh, sweetheart..."
She crossed the room in two quick steps, wrapping you in a hug before you could protest. You folded into her, sobs immediately picking back up.
"I ruined it," you whimpered into her shoulder.
"No." you felt her shake her head
"I did- I did. I ruined it." Your voice cracked. She shook her head again, gentler this time, "You had a fight."
"I said horrible things."
"So did he."
"I don't know if he even wants me around anymore." Dana pulled back just enough to look at you. "I have known your father for a long time, Sweetheart... he's not leaving you behind cuz of one bad fight."
You sniffled. "He walked out."
"I know."
"He just..." Your breathing hitched again. "...he walked away."
Dana's expression softened with something that looked almost like sadness. "He walked away because if he'd stayed another minute, one of you would've said something neither of you could survive."
You crumpled in on yourself even more at that, devastated by his lack of patience and understanding. For his lack of wanting to be better and kinder.
She brushed a tear from your cheek with her thumb. "Leaving wasn't the worst thing he did today."
"No."
"It wasn't."
"But I don't think it was because he stopped loving you."
"I don't think he ever will..." You looked down at your shoes, "I just don't know if he likes me."
The confession was so quiet Dana almost missed it. It wasn't the kind of fear a twenty-something-year-old should still be carrying. But there it was- small and fragile, waiting years to be spoken. Dana's heart broke all over again.
"Oh..." She pulled you into another hug. "I think he loves you so much that somewhere along the way he forgot you needed him to show it."
You cried harder, because that was somehow much worse.
Down the hall, Robby stood alone outside the staff exit. His keys sat uselessly in his hand, he couldn't even make himself walk to the parking lot.
The words replayed mercilessly. I would've traded the house for you. You have no idea who I am. But not your daughter. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and when he finally lowered them, they were wet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried at work.
A nurse walked past, offering him a polite nod, he returned it automatically, then leaned against the wall once she was gone.
He'd forgotten to say happy birthday. Two words. Two stupid words. And somehow they'd unearthed twenty years of grief he hadn't realized his daughter was still carrying.
He thought about turning around, going back, apologizing again, maybe finally saying it the right way. Instead, he pictured your face after the last thing he'd said. The way you'd looked at him... You weren't angry, you were heartbroken and devastated.
His own stomach twisted.
Some apologies were too small for the damage already done. He couldn't apologize again tonight. Tonight, anything else he said would only make it worse.
So, for the first time in his life, Michael Robinavitch did the one thing he had always hated doing... he admitted to himself that he had absolutely no idea how to fix the person he loved most.
Long after the department had quieted, long after the birthday cake had been wrapped in foil and forgotten in the break room refrigerator, long after the night shift had settled into its own rhythm...
There sat an untouched dinner invitation between a father and a daughter. Neither of them hungry anymore. Neither of them knowing that wanting to be known had felt impossible only because neither believed the other person still wanted to learn.
And somewhere beneath all the anger... beneath every accusation, every missed birthday, every word they wished they could take back... that was all either of them had ever really wanted.
Okay just binge read all of Santos X Dr. Robby’s daughter and can confirm that I'm obsessed.
So I'm thinking, Santos (similar to the most recent episode) ends up soothing a baby but reader is also there (maybe they are in the ER maybe not) and Robby is like “omg my daughter is growing up she's an adult omg omg I cannot deal” while Santos is like “huh she's hot with a baby” and reader is also like “huh she's hot with a baby, okay note for future self” and maybe we also have a little bit of Santos teaching reader about Filipino culture tying in her singing a Filipino song to the baby
okie, i hope that made sense cus low-key I was travelling all of yesterday so my brain is a little scrambled
i love this idea so much anon omg
we all know the shift is gonna go over 12 hrs but we're gonna assume that it's not because i don't wanna wait till the end of the season to write this
Bad Idea Right Masterlist
"Hey!" you say, when you see your girlfriend with her head down at the charting station, drink tray heaving in your hand, "Are you sleeping?"
Her head snaps towards you, suddenly awake and alert, "What are you doing here? Are you hurt?"
You stand there a moment, waiting for her to catch up.
"Oh my god, right, is it shift change already? I'm still behind on charting, I gotta stay late to finish up."
"Would have been nice for a heads up," you say, shaking your head, "It's fine, though, I'll just sit in my dad's office and watch youtube on his computer like I used to when I was a kid. Adamson used to keep snacks in there for me."
"I'm sorry, It's been such a crazy day-"
She's cut off by the sound of an infant screaming. You cringe, frowning as the shrill sound hits your ear, "This is why I didn't go into human med."
"See! You get it. The safe haven baby is cranky and that's half the reason I'm behind on my charting is because apparently I'm the only person on this floor who hears her cry."
She gets up from her chair, exasperatedly, "Wanna come see the little gremlin?"
"Am I allowed to?"
She thinks a moment, "Maybe don't touch her? But you can come with me I think."
You walk through the door of the pedes room where the crying baby is screaming her poor little head off. She looks so tiny in the bassinette, squirming around in the basinette.
"C'mon girl," Trinity says, rocking the bassinette softly, "Didn't we just have this conversation an hour ago? No more crying until night shift takes you."
Her eyes focus on Trinity but her cries continue. Trinity reaches out, letting her tiny fist grip her finger.And then, she does something you don't excpect. In the most beautiful voice you've ever heard she starts to sing
"Illi-ili, tulong anay
Wala diri imong nanay
Kadtotienda bakai papay
Ili -ili tulong anay"
At some point the little baby starts to calm down and smiles so Trinity makes a face back. Your eyes flick between her and the baby a few times.
"I didn't know you could sing? Why have you kept that from me?"
She shrugs, "It never came up."
"We should be running karaoke scams like Victorious," you laugh, "That was a nice song, what's it mean."
"Um, it's usually an aunt or someone singing to a restless baby telling them to go sleep because their mom is out buying bread."
"That's sweet," you look down at the baby, rocking the bassinette under your hands softly, "And so sad."
"She can't understand me!"
You lick your lips in anticipation of your next question.
"Have you-and feel free to tell me to shut up if it's too early to talk about this-have you ever thought about having kids one day?"
She looks at you, "Um, me personally, no. No I haven't. Have you?"
You take a deep breath while you nod. You weren't expecting to have this conversation today, but no time like the present, "Yeah. One, maybe two max. Is that-is that something you'd could see yourself doing eventually?"
She looks back down at where the baby is holding her finger, swiping her thumb over it, "Yeah, I think I could. One day, not now."
"Oh god no, of course not now. I don't even start to get paid until next year," you laugh. You bounce on the balls of your feet while you think of how to word your next question, "I do wanna be married and stuff first. And live with my potential wife for at least a year before marriage. Is that-do you think you'd be...open to that?"
She smiles at you, "Yeah. We can revisit this after you graduate and find a job? Maybe get a condo - give huckleberry a room in the attic or something."
"Oh we're bringing him with us?" you ask, raising a brow with a giggle.
"He's just as much my stray as Felony and Arson."
"You care about him," you tease.
She rolls her eyes, "Shut up."
"Oh and just one other thing while we're on the topic of serious relationship conversations."
"Oh god, hit me."
"When you propose to me, my dad still has my moms ring. He doesn't have a son to give it to, so I want it and he will cry when you ask for it."
She nods, and then stops for a moment, "We're both women. Why do I have to propose."
"Because I did the scary thing by bringing this conversation up. So you get to do the scary thing and propose."
"Touché."
Unbeknownst to you two at the time, Robby is standing just outside the pedes room. He's standing far enough not to hear your conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop or intrude on your moment. It's cliché, really, but childhood moves quickly, and before you know it your baby is an adult, ready to start her own life.
He goes over to Dana at the nurses station, trying to blink away his tears.
She furrows her brows, "Everything okay with Baby Jane Doe?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. Santos's taking care of her."
Dana hums in appreciation, "She never struck me as the maternal type."
"The baby likes her. Don't know how much she likes the baby," he chuckles a little, "She's in there with my daughter right now."
"Oh? You gonna be a grandpa soon?"
"I thought that the perk of her being gay was not having to deal with surprise pregnancies."
"Technically it wouldn't be a surprise pregnancy," Dana laughs, "Just a surprise baby."
It's then that the two of you come out of the pedes room, with you coming to stand next to your dad while Trinity sits back at the desk to chart.
"Hey, kiddo," your dad greets, kissing you on the head like he wasn't already aware of your presence, "Shift change already? And you've bought treats? Anything for dear old dad?"
You nod your head, taking out the previously-forgotten drinks, "Matcha for me, vanilla latte for Trin, and 2 boring black coffees for my favourite boomers."
"Gen X, kid," Dana shakes her head, accepting the coffee anyways.
"It's okay, we're the forgotten generation for a reason," your dad reponds, "You picking up Trinity?"
"Yeah, but I'm gonna steal your office while she finishes her charting. I'll be home after to celebrate the start of your sabbatical."
"Car trouble again, Santos?" your dad asks, "Need help with the bill?"
She shakes her head, "No. I'm letting huckleberry take it to see Amy."
"So you're concerned about your relationship with Amy, but you're letting him take the car to go see Amy?" you ask.
"He's gonna go anyways. This just shaves two hours off his trip. And besides, I have a lovely girlfriend that can be my chauffeur all weekend."
You look at your dad, "She cares about him."
He laughs, "She's been doing a lot of that lately."
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There’s a lot of asks coming in rn and so I have the courage to ask any father!Robby hcs or crumbs you have to share with the rest of the class…
A/n: Papa!Robby…my goat🥹🖤✌🏽Thank you for the request!
⚕ Pap!Robby who adopted you when you were a year old, he got kinda depressed with his life and not coming home to anyone and after a long talk with his therapist he decided he wanted to adopt instead of start a family with a wife (something about prenups and commitment)
⚕ Papa!Robby who worked nights at first but after missing a call from your daycare while he was sleeping and a breakdown about it- switched to the day shift
⚕ Papa!Robby who nicknamed you bug because of your big beady eyes as a baby that kinda freaked him the fuck out if he’s being honest
⚕ Papa!Robby who even though would be home by 7:30pm, still made dinner and tried to spend at least 2 hours plus with you after he sent your sitter home before the great bedtime crash
⚕ Papa!Robby who shared a bed with you until you were 6 because Dana told him he should get you your own bed
⚕ Papa!Robby who sleeps like an absolute rock, not even shifting in his sleep, so he knew his chances of crushing you were less than 5%
⚕ Papa!Robby who got insanely jealous when abbot came by when you were little because you would immediatley cling to him and favor him over your OWN FATHER
⚕ Papa!Robby who is extremely protective and checks his phone every chance he gets to make sure you’re okay (even though he complains when you text him at work)
⚕ Papa!Robby who is also extremely strict- but strict kids make adventurous children as you know
⚕ Papa!Robby who told you that you weren’t allowed to cuss as soon as you learned how to speak full sentences
⚕ Papa!Robby who didn’t speak to you as a baby- even being a doctor and knowing better. He was just used to the silence
⚕ Papa!Robby who accidentally made you nonverbal for 2 years after the “normal speaking stage” because of this
⚕ Papa!Robby who was elated when you started to pursue human medicine, only to sigh really heavily and disappointed when you dropped out (still proud of you)
⚕ Papa!Robby who still doesn’t know the actual reason you dropped out of med school and started your vet tech degree
⚕ Papa!Robby who frequently forgets his lunch (he leaves it on purpose so he can see you)
⚕ Papa!Robby who has 3 posts on facebook and they’re all pictures of the both of you
⚕ Papa!Robby who loves you more than life itself even though he thinks you’ve grown to be a pain in the ass (whose fault is that??)
⚕ Papa!Robby who is so proud of the person you’ve become, even through his rules and his scoldings every 2 business days
⚕ Papa!Robby who cried in secret when you moved out and convinced you to start to live with him again, something about gun laws and criminals and the ambulance route if you get hurt.
⚕ Papa!Robby who would rather die than have you be with Dennis Whitaker (he has no idea you’re not a “pure angel” anymore
jack abbott x reader, angsty and smutty with reader maybe being robby’s sister, and he doesn’t like the idea of jack with his much younger sister
You're A Big Girl Now
Pairing: Jack Abbot X fem!Robinavitch!Reader
Summary: When Robby finds out that you’ve been secretly dating his best friend, he has a hard time accepting that you’re not a little girl anymore.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, a little choking, aftercare, established relationship, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Jack is in his late 40s), cursing, a few uses of y/n, Robby’s probably a little ooc and crying.
Word Count: 2.1K
read on ao3
the gif below does not belong to me
my 700 follower celebration!
Jack’s fingers slowly came up to rest just below the waistband of your panties and he remained behind you, holding you in his arms, his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your neck that slowly woke you up. You looked at him over your shoulder a little, “Hmm? What’s going on?” you sleepily mumbled, still waking up from the nap you and Jack had taken together this afternoon on his day off.
He pressed a light kiss to your cheek, shamelessly rubbing his boner against your ass, making you softly gasp. “I need you so bad, baby. Let me fuck you, please.” he begged, his breathing heavy and his eyebrows tightly furrowed while his hands gripped your waist.
You nodded, “Yeah, go ahead, Jackie.” you told him, now fully awake and extremely horny, grinding your ass into his cock. When you first started dating him, you secretly worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with your libido considering your age difference but you soon found out that he was just as insatiable as you were, if not more.
Not wasting any time, he quickly pulled down the pair of his boxers you’d fallen asleep in, threw them aside and slipped his fingers into your already weeping hole. “Love how wet you get for me.” he muttered, nipping at your neck.
“Please, Jack,” you said, hating when he teased you like this. You grinded your ass against him again, grinning at the way his cock twitched against you. “Stop holding back.”
He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his free hand lining his painfully hard cock up with your entrance, “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.” he murmured, causing goosebumps to litter your skin, and slid into you with a low, loud groan.
He gripped your hips in one hand while the other drifted up to one of your tits, rolling your nipple in between his fingers. His pace was slow, much slower than the quick, brutal pace you were used to. And as if he had somehow read your mind, he addressed this difference, “I wanna take my time, just let yourself feel it.” he told you and you nodded, turning your head as much as you could to face him, your lips meeting his in one of the most passionate kisses he’d ever given you.
Your ass softly slapped his wide thighs, “Feels so good, go faster please. I can’t take it, Jack.” you pleaded, your eyebrows furrowed in unbridled agony.
Obeying your request, Jack wrapped one arm around your neck and the other around your waist, fucking into you at that rapid, ruthless pace you adored. He briefly pressed his forehead to the back of your head, “Fuck, she’s suckin’ me in. You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. I could fuck this pretty pussy all day.” he muttered through gritted teeth right into your ear, his words bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
You loved it when he talked to you like this, you never wanted it to end.
He suddenly spoke once more, interrupting your thoughts the second he felt your pussy fluttering around him, “You close? You gonna cum on my cock?” he said, roughly kissing your neck, and you weakly nodded. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel how good I make you feel.”
Obeying his request, you let yourself fall apart on his cock, your vision briefly going black while you moaned, “Feels so good, Jackie.” you babbled, completely lost in your orgasm, accidentally sinking your teeth into his bicep.
He groaned at this, “Shit, she’s squeezing me so tight.” he muttered, barely able to speak before his own orgasm soon washed over him, and spilled his seed inside you.
The two of you continued to lay there, his cock still inside you, for almost twenty minutes, slowly coming down from both of your highs. Jack then slowly pulled himself out of you, “I know, I know, baby.” he cooed when you sharply gasped at the feeling, leaving you with a kiss to the top of your head before he sat up, slipping his arms into his crutches to get a wet cloth from his bathroom.
When he returned, he rolled you onto your back and gently wiped you in between your legs, earning another gasp from you as he tossed the rag into his laundry bin. He leaned over you, gently kissing you and cupping your face in his hand, “I’m gonna go shower, wanna join me?” he asked, a look of pure love for you in his eyes. He was truly down bad.
You softly smiled up at him and shook your head, “No, I’m okay. I'm gonna lay here for a little longer.” you answer and he nodded, mirroring the smile on your lips, leaving you to rest. You rolled over, grabbing your phone from where you’d left it on the bedside table next to it, planning to scroll through Tiktok until Jack was done.
When suddenly, you heard the sound of someone unlocking the front door to his apartment. Your eyes widened at this, ”Fuck.” you whispered to yourself.
It was Michael, it had to be. After all, he was the only other person with keys to Jack’s apartment. You’d been hiding your relationship from him the whole eight months you had been together so far, knowing he wouldn’t approve. But there was no going back now. Your body froze up in fear, not allowing you to quickly get up and put Jack’s boxers back on and hide. So you just stayed put.
He quietly closed the door behind him, “Hey, you home? I think I left my backpack here the other day!” he called out, his eyes landing on you in Jack’s bed as he finished speaking. He easily crossed the space in less than ten strides, now standing in the doorway, making you want to crawl out of your skin. “What the fuck? What’re you doing here, (y/n)?”, a look of anger filling his eyes.
A scared look filled yours, “Surprise?” you said with a shrug, not knowing what else you could possibly say right now.
He shot you a disappointed look and stormed over to the bathroom connected to Jack’s bedroom, “Abbot! Out now!” he yelled, turning away for a minute while his best friend scrambled to put on the robe he kept hung up next to his shower. Once he was decent, Michael turned back around and balled his hands into fists for a moment before releasing them, “When the fuck were you going to tell me you were fucking my sister? My sister who’s twenty years younger than you might I add.”
A panicked look appeared on Jack’s face and he sighed, trying to collect himself, his wet curls dripping onto his shoulders, “Listen, I never meant you to find out that we’re dating like this but you gotta accept that she’s an adult, man. You can’t boss her around anymore. She can make her own decisions.” he replied, referencing the time you’d told him about how Michael was so overprotective of you when you were a kid that it often came off as controlling.
He ran a hand over his tired face, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, brother. You’re just too old for her.” he quietly said, subtly shaking his head with disapproval.
Leaving the bathroom before Jack had the chance to say anything else, Michael practically stomped back over to you, looking as if steam was about to shoot out of his ears. “Get dressed, now. I’m taking you home.” he sternly commanded and you shook a little, startled by how angry he was. You hadn’t seen him like this in years.
You angrily furrowed your eyebrows at this, ignoring your fear, “No! I’m not some little girl anymore, Michael! You can’t tell me what to do!” you fired back, eliciting a worried look from Jack.
He picked your clothes up off of the floor and threw them at you, “I’m not going to repeat myself.” he said.
You nodded, “Okay.” you replied, tears filling your eyes as you became as obedient as you once were as a child, and he left the room.
Jack frowned at you, watching you put your clothes back on. He hated seeing what this was doing to you. He placed his hand on your bicep as you started to walk toward the closed door, stopping you, “Hey, you don’t have to listen to him. You’re a grown woman.” he said, tears pricking at his eyes.
You took a shaky breath in and out, refusing to meet his gaze, your shoulders stiff, “I know, it’s just that…he’s the only family I have left and I don’t wanna lose him. Let’s talk about this another time.” you told him and he nodded in understanding, hesitantly letting you go without properly saying goodbye.
—--------------------------------------
A day later
—--------------------------------------
You were sitting on your couch hopelessly trying to distract yourself from your feelings with one of the books you owned, your eyes reading the same paragraph again and again, when someone knocked on your front door. You set the book aside and wiped your remaining tears away, it felt like all you had done today was cry.
“Just a second!” you called out, your voice sounding more shaky then you meant it to.
You opened it to reveal Michael standing behind it, clearly having come straight here after his shift today. You frowned at him and defensively crossed your arms over your chest, “What do you want, Michael? Are you here to yell at me again or something?” you asked, begrudgingly moving to the side to allow him to enter your home and closing the door behind him.
He remained quiet, walked over to your couch and took a seat, wordlessly encouraging to sit next to him, “I’m just trying to understand you and Jack’s relationship. I don’t get what you could possibly see in a man that much older than you.” he sighed, frustrating you a little.
Your shoulders relaxed a little, glad that he was calmly speaking to you instead of yelling again, “I know we have a big age gap but I love him because of how he treats me. He’s one of the kindest, loving and gentlest men I’ve ever met and he makes me feel seen. With Jack by my side, I’ve been a lot happier than I have in a very long time. And I know you don’t approve but please, at least try to get used to us being together. I don’t wanna lose you, Mikey. I need you in my life.” you explained.
He nodded, raking a hand through his thinning hair, “Okay, I’ll try. I’m just going to need some time,” he agreed and you softly smiled at him, feeling extremely relieved. He wrapped his long arms around you and pressed a light kiss to the side of your head, “But if he ever fucks up, just let me know and I’ll go beat him up for you, okay?”
You laughed at this, “Okay.” you replied, getting his own tense shoulders to finally relax.
After Michael left, you retrieved your phone from where you left it on your coffee table and sent Jack a quick text telling him to call you as soon as he had a moment. Within a few minutes, your phone rang and his contact appeared on the screen, making you chuckle at how quickly he’d called you. You picked up on the third ring, “Hey, baby, what’d Robby say? He told me he was gonna talk to you after work.” he greeted, a hopeful tone to his voice.
You grinned at how rapidly he’d spoken, “He’s not completely on board with us yet but he said he’ll try.” you said, barely able to get through what you wanted to say without a giddy giggle or two leaving your lips.
A relieved laugh left Jack’s own lips, “Yes!” he said, the sound of his badge jingling in the background as if he had just fist pumped the air. “I’m coming over right after work and taking you out for breakfast.”
You smiled at how happy and excited this news had made him, he no longer had to hide you and your relationship. “Okay, Jackie, I’ll see you then. I love you, handsome.” you replied.
“I love you too, baby. Goodnight, sweet dreams.” he said before he hung up and you excitedly kicked your feet, your heart bursting with happiness knowing that you weren’t going to lose Jack or your brother.
"You're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think that." With DBF!Jack. Because I miss him 😔🫶🏻
I also miss him! 🥹🥹🥹
Even though your father knows you're dating his best friend, nobody else knows you're dating Jack and that's kind of annoying. Since the one person you didn't want to know about your relationship the most knows, then everyone else can know or so you thought. However Jack hasn't said a word about telling anyone else about your relationship and you've been seeing each other for a couple of months now.
Another day in the ED and you're annoyed with Jack. He's constantly looking over your shoulder and needs to be with you for every trauma. If he doesn't think you're a good enough doctor to do things on your own, then why is even with you?! You almost wish you were back on your dad's shift with how annoying Jack is being.
You're sitting down at the central hub when Jack comes up behind you. You glance at him for a second and then go back to the charting you were working on. Jack places one of his hands on your head and you shake your head to get it off.
“You okay honey?”
“I'm fine Jack. Don't you have patients or something you can go see?”
“I could but I wanted to come talk to you.”
“Well I'm busy.”
“Okay you're never this clipped with me. What's going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Darling don't lie to me.”
“We're not gonna do this in front of an ED full of people Jack.”
“Honey what's wrong?”
“Fuck fine. Come with me since you're not going to let this go.”
You got up out of your chair and Jack followed behind you very closely. You headed for the elevator and Jack knew you were headed to the roof. The ride up to the roof was silent and Jack couldn't help but look at you with sadness in his eyes. You had this gnawing feeling in your stomach of guilt.
Jack got out of the elevator first and you followed him. He turned around to face you.
“Alright darling, we're out here in the open and there's no one up here but us. What's wrong?”
“I can't help but feel like I'm your dirty little secret.”
“I'm sorry what?!”
“This thing between you and me. I love you and you know that, but shit we didn't want dad to know yet he knows. So am I just a regret? You only want me in the safety of your home or my apartment? Our friends and family can't know about us?”
"You're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think that. I'm sorry honey for making you have these thoughts. I love you darling. I don't regret you sweetheart and we can tell anyone you want sans Gloria obviously but if you wanna tell my work children who happen to be your best friends that's totally fine.”
“I can tell Parker?”
“Yes baby.”
“And Shen?”
“Yep.”
“Well I should probably supply Shen with iced coffee first but Parker's gonna be thrilled. She's been hounding me for ages to go out on dates since apparently I'm lonely and that her and her girlfriend would be more than happy to set me up with one of their friends.”
“Probably a good idea honey and no! You're mine damnit. There will be nobody else for you. No blind dates, no setting you up with random people. Mine! Besides if your dad already hated you dating me, he'd hate the idea of you being set up by your friends from the pitt.”
“I hate when you're right. But yes handsome I am yours and nobody else's. However, if you make me feel like dirty secret again, I'm gonna let Parker set me up.”
“I really can't apologize enough for making you feel like that. I hate that you felt like you had to keep that bottled up until you were ready to explode. I want you to remember that you're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think those thoughts again, am I clear?”
“Yeah daddy, I think I got it.”
“You're such a shithead kid.”
“But you love me anyway.”
“That I do honey that I do.”
“I guess it's a good thing that I love you too then.”
“Come on darling, we gotta go back to work.”
“But I like being out here with you and away from everyone else.”
“Didn't we just go over that you want to be out in front of everyone?”
“Yes and we will but since I have you alone right now, why don't you come give me a kiss.”
“With pleasure baby.”
Jack walks up to you. He leans down to kiss you and you meet him in the middle so you can kiss him. He smiles against your lips and then gives you another quick peck before backing up.
“Oh and Jack we need to talk about your actions today but we can have this conversation in the elevator so come on.”
“My actions? Why am I in the wrong now? Earlier made sense, but I don't know why you're annoyed with me now.”
He followed behind you and you guys got back into the elevator. He's standing up against the wall next to you.
“Jack baby, why have you been over my shoulder the whole damn day? Do you think I'm not capable of doing alright without you watching over me?!”
“No honey that's not it. You're a phenomenal doctor. You're going to be better than your dad and I combined, but ever since that one patient attacked you, I struggle to let you out of my sights while we're working. I don't want another patient to have the chance to attack you again.”
You never thought about that. Like obviously you remember being punched and bruised. You didn't want Jack to dwell on that though because it wasn't his fault; yet, he takes all the blame on to his shoulders as if it was his fault.
“I'm sorry handsome. I never took that into consideration. I thought you were just trying to be annoying or that you didn't believe in my capabilities as a doctor which I should've known was a ridiculous thought.”
“If you ever should believe something I say, believe me when I say that you're an amazing doctor and I'm so proud of you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Jack moves even closer to you so his side is touching yours. You move to stand in front of him. He looks at you with a cheeky ass grin and you can't help but kiss it off his face. Then the elevator doors open and you hear Parker gasp.
You and Jack separate but he holds his hand for you to take as you both get off the elevator. Parker comes up to you both.
“Dr Ellis.”
“Oh enough of that bullshit little Robinavitch and come on ED Dad with your best friend's daughter?!”
“Park, I love you. You're my best friend, but trust me dad already knows and isn't happy, but Jack and I are very happy.”
“Yeah there will be nobody for you to set her up with kid cause I've laid my claims.”
“As long as you're both happy, I'm happy for you.”
“Thanks Parker.”
“Thanks kid.”
“Just be prepared though that Shen might freak out.”
“Eh he'll be fine. Jack's gonna get him coffee first.”
“Smart man.”
“Well we've all got patients to see so let's get back to it now.”
“You got it Dr Abbot.”
“Yes sir daddy.”
Parker starts fucking laughing and Jack slugs you in the shoulder.
“Consider this payback from how dad found out.”
“Oh bestie you're gonna have to give me all the details.”
“She better fucking not.”
“I gotchu Park.”
Jack just groans and walks away from you two. You slap his ass as he walks off which has Parker damn near on the floor laughing and Jack just glares at you. You blow him a kiss and he can't help but grin and catch it like the sweet little geek you fell in love with.
“Seriously back to work you two!”
“Yeah no problem Jack.”
“Whatever you say old man.”
“You're both lucky that I love you.”
“I love you too baby.”
“Love you your royal higness Abbot!”
You started laughing and leaned against Parker because that was too funny. Jack secretly flipped you two off and finally walked away to go see a patient. You and Parker just shared a glance and started laughing.
“Meet me outside in a little while and I'll give you all the details you want.”
“I'll meet you in 30. Don't forget Dr. Robinavitch.”
“Sounds like a plan Dr. Ellis.”
You two fist pump and walk away in opposite directions. It feels good to start to let people into your life and into the life you're building with Jack.
