Reginald Peters > Any Type Of Homework

The sun was high outside, but inside the couple's room it was dark enough to be mistaken for an intense night. Jack and Yn had their cycles reversed for so many years that they had become accustomed to the nightlife and its crazy routines. Sleeping during the day to work at night wasn't easy, but they made it seem like it was.

The woman beside him rolled from side to side on the soft mattress. Jack wasn't a heavy sleeper enough to ignore it, but still, he was used to it enough to know he shouldn't react. He didn't open his eyes, but even so, he could clearly see his wife seeking some comfort. Until she finally gave in and grumbled loudly and clearly, and that was the opening Jack needed to intervene.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, pretending to have just woken up, turning on the bedside lamp to see the large, covered mountain that was his wife's pregnant belly. Her hair was spread across the pillows, and her eyes were wide open like a tigress's, staring at him as if he had personally attacked her. "I heard you grumbling, are you feeling alright?" he asked, placing his hand on her belly and feeling their daughter move.

"I'm not grumbling. I'm breathing. Loud and clear, is there a problem with that, Abbot?" the answer came quickly, cut short by a low moan as she tried to turn over.

Jack sighed, contemplating what to say. The yellowish light of the lamp partially covered the room, fighting against small rays of sunlight that tried to penetrate the heavy, dark curtain that blocked the window. Before, Yn and he had light and calm conversations in that environment, but now, at forty weeks pregnant, it was difficult to do anything lightly. He knew it wasn't personal; if he were carrying a baby weighing approximately four kilos, pressing on all his organs, he would also be grumpy in the mornings (or all the time).

"How are you feeling?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Enormous. Uncomfortable. In pain," she listed the symptoms as if reading a shopping list. "And if you ask me one more time if I want to stay home, I'll suffocate you with the pillow." Jack smiled, a tired smile of someone who had already fought this battle for weeks. At forty years old, Jack had already gone to medical school, joined the army, gone to war, lost a limb, started his life as an attending physician in the emergency room, taken charge of the night shift, did occasional side jobs as a SWAT medic, and still felt powerless in the face of his extremely pregnant wife.

"I'm not going to ask," he said, standing up and stretching his arms. "I'm going to have some tea. Want some?" he asked, grabbing his crutches and getting up from the mattress.

"Yes. With a dozen chili peppers. And I want the Swiss ball."

Jack stopped halfway to the door, turning slowly. He saw her struggling to get out of bed, a process that involved a lot of effort, groans, and an awkward choreography that ended with her sitting on the edge of the mattress, panting as if she had run a marathon. He bit his lip, both suppressing a smile and holding back his urge to ask if she didn't want help. He learned from his past mistakes.

Instead, he crossed his arms and looked at her curiously.

"The Swiss ball?" he repeated, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

"Yes. For the exercises. And the pepper, please." She looked at him with a silent challenge in her brown eyes. "It helps induce labor."

"That's true. Just like pineapple, cinnamon."

"I tried those things yesterday," she said, gathering momentum to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. "I ate pineapple until my mouth went numb and nothing! Now it's the pepper and the ball's turn. And yoga. And…" She came out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth, foam dripping from her chin and her hair still messy from the pillow. "If it doesn't work, tomorrow when we get back from work we're going to have sex like never before."

Jack raised an eyebrow, a slow smile forming on his lips as he understood what she meant.

"So I'm the last option?" he teased, seeing his wife roll her eyes.

"Why? Want to have sex now?" she wasn't in the mood at all. Neither was he.

"Tomorrow then?" he conceded, watching the toothpaste drip from her mouth.

"Great, good that we agreed," she replied, returning to the bathroom, not seeing Jack chuckle weakly as he turned around to make breakfast.

The scene that followed for the next thirty minutes would have been comical if it weren't so pathetic. Jack watched, a mug of tea in his hand, while YN, sitting on the Swiss ball in the middle of the room, ate chili peppers as if they were peanuts. Her eyes were watery, her face was red, but she didn't stop.

"This is a scene of medieval torture," Jack commented, taking a bottle of milk from the refrigerator and giving it to his wife in the living room.

"It's a scene of…" she swallowed another chili pepper, gasping "…prenatal determination. There's a difference."

She spent twenty minutes on the birthing ball, making circles with her hips, bouncing gently, trying everything to convince her body that it was time. Jack watched her from afar, hiding his smile behind his mug. Then, she moved on to dancing. She put on some upbeat music on her phone and started to move, or at least tried to. What should have been a sensual choreography to induce labor looked more like a penguin trying to put on a talent show.

"Need some help?" Jack approached, placing his hands on her waist and showering kisses on her neck.

"Not until tomorrow, remember?" she teased, rubbing her bottom against his groin.

"Are you sure?" he asked, dragging his teeth along her neck, and then she groaned. But not the kind Jack wanted. "What? Was that a contraction?" he asked in a panic, placing his hands on her stomach in desperation.

"No." she put her hands to her mouth before letting out a terrible, burning burp. "Just heartburn." she huffed, throwing herself onto the sofa. "This little girl is more comfortable inside me than any human being should be anywhere." Jack knelt on the floor, kissing his wife's belly a dozen times.

"She takes after her father, have you ever been told?"

"No, she takes after her mother. My mother said I was born two weeks late, I only came out because the doctor threatened to come get me."

"So we're dealing with a genetic issue of stubbornness," he said, snuggling a little closer to his wife's belly, feeling her hands running through his hair as the baby kicked under his cheek as if trying to shoo him away.

"I'm going to get ready for work," she said, pushing him away enough to stand up.

Jack felt his stomach churn. He watched her walk to the bedroom, a duck-like walk that had become her pattern in recent months, and the temptation to lock her in the house, handcuff her to the bed if necessary, was almost irresistible. But he knew his wife. He knew the stubbornness she called "determination," he knew how she used work as an anchor amidst the chaos of pregnancy's emotions. If he tried to stop her, the hell she promised herself with her pillow would only be the beginning.

He followed her to the bedroom, finding her sitting on the bed, a sneaker in each hand, staring at her own feet as if they were mortal enemies. Her belly prevented any attempt to bend over, and her face was already flushed with frustration.

"Honey?" Jack knelt on the floor in front of her, a gesture that had become routine. He took the sneakers from her hands, but instead of putting them on, he set them aside. She frowned, confused.

"What are you doing? We have to go soon! Robby will kill us if we're late again."

Jack sighed, choosing his words with the care of a man disarming a bomb.

"I was thinking… what if we stayed home today?" he tried to keep the tone casual, as if he were suggesting a walk in the park. "We could go to bed early, stay in bed the whole time… Eat as much chili as you want. I could even massage your feet."

Yn's eyes narrowed. She wasn't head nurse for nothing. She knew a sign of a detour when she saw one.

"You don't want me to go to work, is that it? " her voice rose a half tone, and Jack felt the ground begin to tremble.

"Honey, you're completing forty weeks today. Your obstetrician said…"

"I know what she said, Jack"" she straightened up in bed, her eyes gleaming with that dangerous flame he knew so well. "You think I'm too old to work with you? Is that it? You think I'll be a hindrance?"

"What? No!!!" Jack raised his hands defensively. "Never. You're the best nurse I know, you run that shift better than I do. This has nothing to do with competence."

"Oh, so it's my feet?!" she pointed to her own feet as if they were proof of a crime. "You know they're swollen, how dare you throw that in my face?! I didn't ask for them to be like this! I didn't ask to look like a hippopotamus with tight shoes!"

The frustration that had been building up for weeks, the turbulent hormones, the constant discomfort, and the poorly disguised fear that something might go wrong, all came to the surface at once. Yn started to cry, not a restrained cry, but that deep, sobbing cry that came from the depths of her soul. She stood up with an impetus that surprised even Jack, her stomach jittering with the abrupt movement.

"Where are you going?" Jack stood up too, still holding her sneakers in his hands.

"TO THE CAR, JACK!" she was already in the hallway, her voice echoing off the walls. "I'M GOING TO WORK EVEN IF YOU DON'T WANT ME THERE!"

The apartment door slammed shut with a bang that made the pictures tremble on the walls. Jack stood in the hallway, his sneakers dangling from one hand, his heart heavy in his chest. He sighed, a long sigh that carried weeks of worry and love in equal measure. He looked at his sneakers, then at the door, and finally moved.

When he reached the building's parking lot, he found what he expected: Yn was in the passenger seat, her seatbelt precariously fastened across her stomach, her face turned toward the window, her eyes closed. She wasn't asleep; he could see the small sobs still agitating her shoulders, but she also lacked the energy to continue the "fight."

Jack got into the car in silence. He put his sneakers in the back seat, started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot. During the twenty-minute drive to the hospital, neither of them said a word. The silence wasn't heavy, however. It was the silence of someone who had fought worse battles and survived, of someone who knew that love didn't need words to be felt.

When the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center appeared on the horizon, its emergency lights already on against the darkening sky, Jack parked in his usual spot. He turned off the engine and turned to his wife, who still kept her eyes closed.

"Honey?" he called carefully. She didn't answer. Jack sighed, grabbed the sneakers from the back seat, and opened the passenger door. With a patience that only years of marriage can teach, he knelt on the cold asphalt of the parking lot and began to put the sneakers on her feet. Each movement was careful, delicate, as if he were putting on a relic.

When he finished, he looked up. Yn was watching him, her eyes still red, but a small smile already beginning to form on her lips.

"You're terrible, Jack Abbot," she murmured.

"I know," he stood up, extending his hand to help her out of the car. "But you love me anyway."

"Yes, I do," she accepted his hand, letting herself be pulled out of the vehicle with a groan that was both of effort and resignation.

The sun was setting behind the Pittsburgh skyscrapers, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Jack and Yn walked side-by-side toward the emergency room door, and he felt a pang in his chest as he watched her straighten her shoulders, assuming the commanding posture that defined her. She was back.

The emergency room door opened, and for a moment, the organized chaos of the ward seemed to freeze. Dozens of eyes turned to the entering pair, the chief physician and the head nurse, he in his impeccable scrubs, she with a belly that seemed to have grown even more since her last shift, wearing a nursing uniform that struggled to contain the prodigious nature it carried.

Jack, who knew the team like the back of his hand, began frantically signaling behind Yn's back. A cutting gesture over her neck, begging and warning: “Don't say anything. Don't stare too much. Don't comment. And for God's sake, don't mention the word 'baby'.”

—What is she doing here? - Robby's voice broke the awkward silence. He was at the main counter, a cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes wide as he approached Jack. - What are you doing here? I thought I was going to cover for you today. I thought the phone would ring any minute with the news.

"Believe me, it wasn't for lack of trying" Jack replied quietly, while Yn was already heading to the nursing station, where Dana, the veteran nurse on the day shift, waited with an expression that mixed admiration and horror.

On the other side of the counter, resident Santos watched the scene with the sharp gaze of someone who had money at stake. She approached Jack with a smile that was half provocation, half anxiety.

"Nothing about the baby, huh? " she asked, referring to the bet that had paralyzed the emergency room in recent weeks.

"No. You didn't win the jackpot this time." Jack replied, a tired smile appearing on his face. The bet had started as an innocent joke in the night shift staff's break room, but it soon spread to all the shifts. Even the surgical residents were betting. Robby joined in. Dana joined in. The security guards joined in. Even the cleaning staff, in a moment of collective euphoria, wanted to participate. And, secretly, even Jack had joined in, though no one knew. By a coincidence he considered poetic, his bet was for the next day.

"Your baby takes too long, huh…" Santos teased, tilting his head.

"She takes after her father," said Ellis, appearing behind Santos to pat Jack on the back.

"They say old sperm does that," Shen teased, drinking his bobbah.

"Thanks for the support, Shen," Jack replied, rubbing his face with his hands.

Robby approached, handing Jack the shift report. There were deep dark circles under his eyes, a sign of another twelve-hour day in the hell that was Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

"Well, since you're here and your baby isn't, I'm going home." Robby sighed, relieved, and, turning to leave, added: "Good luck, brother. You'll need it."

He took a step towards the door, but stopped suddenly, turning back to where Yn was.

"Yn, you look beautiful as always." Robby smiled, a genuine smile of old friendship. "Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything. Even if it's three in the morning."

"Thank you, Robby. Go get some rest." Yn replied, already holding a chart, her eyes scanning the list of waiting patients.

Robby left, and the night shift officially began. Jack and Yn exchanged a quick glance, one of those glances that contained entire conversations. "Are you okay?" he asked wordlessly. "I'm great," she replied, already turning her back to go to the first patient.

To say the following hours were chaotic would be an understatement. The full moon that had risen in the Pittsburgh sky seemed to have cast a haze of insanity over the city. Jack had worked long enough to know that the full moon had no scientific explanation, but it had very real effects. It was as if every madman, every accident, every crisis decided that this was the perfect night to visit the emergency room.

It all started with a smell of burning.

"Is anyone smelling this?" Jesse lifted his head from a chart, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

Three seconds later, the fire alarm went off. It wasn't a drill. It wasn't a test. It was the shrill, terrifying sound that made any healthcare professional's heart skip a beat.

Jack left the office where he was assessing a patient with chest pain and found the main hallway ablaze. Well, not exactly ablaze. Two computers in the nursing station were spewing smoke and thin flames that licked the cables like matchsticks. — Fire extinguisher! — Jack shouted. Ellis was already there, the chemical powder spreading like a white ghost over the equipment.

The fire was under control in less than a minute, but the damage was done. One of the computers was unrecognizable, the other was in pieces. Yn, who was on the other side of the room, protected by Jack, shook her head as she called IT.

"It's the full moon." she murmured, as if that explained everything.

And that was just the beginning.

At 10 p.m., three patients were admitted within ten minutes of each other, all with the same symptoms: profuse sweating, dilated pupils, mental confusion, and visual hallucinations. A man in his forties, a woman in her thirties, and a young man in his twenty-twos. Three people who, according to their documents, lived in different neighborhoods, had no mutual friends, and swore they had never seen each other's faces.

YN placed them in adjacent rooms, coordinating the nursing staff with the efficiency of someone who had been doing it for years. But something didn't add up. The symptoms were identical, perfectly aligned. Jack reviewed the blood tests, compared the vital signs, and the answer was on the tip of his tongue.

"Food poisoning?" suggested a resident who had been assigned to one of the patients.

"The pattern of visual hallucinations suggests something psychoactive," Jack pondered, reviewing the data. "Someone take a look at their belongings."

It was YN who found the answer. She had entered the room of the twenty-two-year-old man, who was now more lucid, although still confused. Her eyes scanned the clinical environment until they landed on a small thermos inside the backpack that was on the chair.

"What's in there?" she asked, pointing to the thermos. The young man hesitated, looked at her, at his stomach, and seemed to panic.

"You can't touch my things." He tried to move, but Yn ignored him, opening the bottle and bringing it to her face. He became more agitated. She smelled it. An earthy, slightly sweet aroma.

"Mushroom tea?" the boy shrank back on the stretcher.

"It was at a party. It was a special recipe. Everyone drank it, I swear I didn't know it would lead to this. The guy said it was just to help you relax…" Yn closed her eyes, counting to three. When she opened them, her voice was calm, but firm.

You and your friends decided to drink hallucinogenic mushroom tea and now you're paying the price. The good news is that the effects will pass. The bad news is that you'll stay here until they pass. And, if you want to help your friends, you'll tell me the name of the person who organized this party and how many people were there.

Three more patients arrived in the following two hours, all with the same symptoms. The “tea party,” as Shen began to call it, had had six participants. Six people who now occupied six beds in the emergency room, all in different stages of hallucination and dehydration.

But the night still had its main act in store.

Around midnight, Jack was at the central counter, updating charts on one of the few computers that were still working, when he heard the sound that any healthcare professional can recognize from miles away: the cry of a newborn.

He looked up and saw a security guard, a sixty-year-old man who had seen it all at the hospital, running towards him with a panicked expression on his face.

“Dr. Abbot! In the waiting room! A woman, she’s… She’s got the baby’s head showing!”

Jack didn’t think twice. He ran, overtaking nurses and patients, and reached the triage area to find a scene that looked like it was straight out of a movie. A young woman, visibly in advanced labor, lay on the floor, surrounded by a team of security guards who seemed frozen, unsure what to do.

"Get out!" Jack ordered, kneeling beside the woman. "My name is Jack, I'm a doctor. Are you alright, ma'am?"

"SHE'S COMING OUT!!" the woman screamed, and Jack saw that, in fact, the top of the baby's head was already visible.

The following minutes were a blur of action. Jack asked for gloves, asked for compresses, asked for a portable incubator. The woman, whose name was Yara, had no prenatal history, didn't know how many weeks pregnant she was, didn't know anything. She had arrived at the hospital in pain and, before she could be registered, her body decided it was time.

Amidst the commotion, Jack felt a presence beside him. He didn't need to look to know who it was. Yn was there, sterile, prepared, with a tray of instruments and a calm smile on her face.

They worked in perfect sync, as only a couple who had known each other for years could. Jack coordinated the pushing, she monitored the heartbeat. When the baby's shoulder clenched in a moment of panic, it was Yn's firm hand on Yara's leg that convinced her to breathe, to relax, to trust.

The baby's cry filled the triage room like a hymn. Jack handed the girl to Yn, who wrapped her in blankets and placed her on her mother's chest. There was a moment of reverent silence, the kind of silence that happens when life imposes itself with all its force, and then the team relaxed a little.

But there was no time for celebrations. Because, while Yn was helping transfer Yara and the baby to the maternity ward, the receptionist appeared in the hallway with a pale face.

"Dr. Abbot, another pregnant woman. In the car ahead. She's already pushing!"

The night repeated itself. And repeated itself. And repeated itself.

In a one-hour period, between midnight and 1 a.m., Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center received four pregnant women in advanced labor. Four. Each of them gave birth in the emergency room, in Jack's hands, before they could be transferred to the maternity ward.

The first was Yara, who had a healthy baby girl. The second, a teenage girl in the back of an Uber, alone and panicked, gave birth to a beautiful baby boy who cried loudly enough for the entire parking lot to hear. The third was a woman named Theresa, who rushed into the parking lot with her water already broken and the baby crowning—a boy who was born before Theresa could even take off her coat. The fourth was a woman who spoke only Korean, but luckily, there was a translator on duty who helped Jack and Yn bring a pair of identical twins into the world.

When the last placenta was delivered and the last umbilical cord was cut, Jack leaned against the counter, exhausted, and looked at the clock. 2:30 a.m. He still had four hours left in his shift.

Yn was beside him, and he noticed she was resting one hand on her stomach in a different way. It wasn't the usual way someone carrying twenty extra kilos in front would support their stomach. It was a support that suggested discomfort, perhaps pain.

"Yn?" he called, worried.

"I'm fine," she answered quickly, too quickly. "Just tired," he wanted to insist, but she was called away by another nurse.

The rest of the night was an exercise in tension. Every time Yn made a sound, a sigh, a groan, even a sneeze, everyone on the team froze and looked at her with panicked eyes. Was it now? Was it time?

At one point, around four in the morning, Yn let out a loud groan as she stood up from a chair. Jack felt his heart stop for a second. Ellis dropped a vial of IV fluid he was holding. Shen opened his mouth to make a comment.

"It was a cramp!" Yn announced, with a look that promised a slow and painful death to anyone who made any joke. "Just a cramp."

The tension didn't lessen. On the contrary. Jesse, covering the night shift, had worked with Yn before, and had worked with pregnant women on a full moon before. He had his traumas, so he took on the unofficial mission of following her everywhere. He was always two steps away, carrying an emergency birthing kit, his eyes fixed on her as if he expected her to transform into a birthing machine at any moment.

"Jesse, you're making me nervous," Yn said at one point, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"It's in case you need help," he replied, unperturbed. "I have a doctor husband for that."

"Your doctor husband is busy with a pneumothorax in room 3. I'm available."

Yn sighed, but didn't argue. Deep down, she knew the concern was genuine. And perhaps, in some corner of her mind, she also sensed that something was about to happen.

The sun rose over Pittsburgh like a promise of relief. The last patients of the night were discharged, the charts were closed, and the night shift was drawing to a close. Jack was at the counter, reviewing the cases he would pass on to Robby, when he heard the familiar sound of the emergency room doors opening.

Robby entered with an expression that was half surprise, half amusement. His eyes scanned the room until they found Yn, who was still standing, or rather, still pregnant, like a monument to human resilience.

"She hasn't had the baby yet?" Robby asked Jack quietly, as if speaking loudly might trigger something.

"No. I'm starting to think my daughter is an elephant," Jack replied, a tired smile on his face.

Jack and Yn said goodbye to the team with hugs and promises to call as soon as something happened. Santos handed Jack an updated list of bets, now with new guesses for the upcoming dates. Langdon offered his car if they needed a rush to the hospital. Dana, who had returned to her day shift, held Yn's hands for a moment, looking into her eyes.

"Listen, dear," Dana said, with the authority of someone who had more years of nursing experience than Yn's age, "You're going home, you're going to take a hot bath, you're going to rest. And when the time comes, you'll know. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks Dana," she agreed, although they both knew she wasn't going to rest, not in the way Dana meant.

Jack and YN walked to the parking lot in silence. The morning air was crisp, and the first rays of sunlight painted the asphalt gold. Jack felt a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Another shift completed. Another day where nothing went wrong. Another day where his daughter had decided that the womb was still a better place than the world.

He walked around the car, settling into the seat with a tired groan.

And then Yn spoke:

"Jack?"

He turned his head to look at her. She was standing in front of the car door, not inside. She was outside, one hand resting on the car door, the other on her belly, and there was something different in her eyes.

"What is it, darling?" he asked, a thread of concern in his voice.

"When did you bet that our daughter was actually going to be born?" the question was calm, almost casual. Jack frowned, confused by the question at such an odd moment. He looked at the date on the car's console.

"Today, actually. Why?" Yn smiled. It wasn't a tired or relieved smile. It was a victorious smile, the smile of someone who had just won a battle no one knew was being fought.

"Great. You won."

She turned around and started walking back to the hospital, her steps determined on the asphalt.

"WHAT?" Jack got out of the car so quickly he forgot to turn off the engine.

"MY WATER BROKE!" Yn's voice echoed through the empty parking lot, a cry that was both a declaration of war and a call to battle. "ARE YOU COMING OR AM I GOING TO HAVE THIS BABY ALONE?"

Jack didn't remember closing the car door. He didn't remember running. All he knew was that one second he was inside the vehicle, and the next he was stumbling on the asphalt, falling to his knees, getting up, falling again, almost crawling, until he finally reached his wife, who was standing in the middle of the parking lot with wet pants and her hands firmly on her stomach.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his heart pounding so fast he could barely form the words.

"I'm having a contraction every three minutes, Jack. What do you think?" She squeezed his hand, and Jack felt the force of the contraction pass through her arm, a wave of muscles contracting with clockwork precision.

"Let's go. Let's go back." He put his arm around her, guiding her back to the hospital entrance.

They passed through the automatic doors of the emergency room and entered what should have been the end of a shift but became the beginning of something new. Robby was at the central counter, a coffee in hand, distributing the day's cases to the arriving residents. He looked up when the door opened and saw the scene: Jack, his face pale and his knees dirty with asphalt, guiding Yn, who walked with the determination of a general, her hands on her stomach and an expression of pure focus.

"Did you forget anything?" "Robby asked, a smile beginning to form on his face as the penny dropped.

Yn stopped, a new contraction hitting her with full force. She leaned against the counter, her fingers white from being so tightly clenched, and yelled:

"SHUT UP ROBINAVITCH!!!"

The entire emergency room froze. The residents, the nurses, the patients waiting in triage. All eyes turned to the head nurse, who looked like a walking fury, a Greek goddess of maternity in a blue uniform.

Jack placed one hand on Yn's back, the other raised to the staff in a gesture that tried to be calm, but came out only breathless.

"It's time," he managed to say, his voice faltering mid-way.

The silence lasted a second. Maybe two. And then chaos ensued, but not the chaos of the emergency room. It was the chaos of the bet that had united Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center in recent weeks.

"WHAT IS IT!?" - Santos was the first to react, already pulling her wallet out of her pocket, her eyes shining with a mixture of frustration and admiration. "WHO WON?"

"JACK! " Yn shouted, still leaning on the counter, another contraction sweeping through her like a wave. "GET OUR MONEY!"

Jack looked at Yn, then at Robby, then at the entire team who were already pulling out wallets, cell phones, betting envelopes. For a moment, he thought about arguing. About saying no, that it wasn't the time, that his wife was in labor in the middle of the emergency room and that they needed an obstetrician, not a raffle.

But then he looked into Yn's eyes, saw the determination there, and knew there was no choice.

He reached out to Robby, who already had a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

"Congratulations, brother" Robby said, handing over the money. "Not that I'm happy to lose, but… Congratulations."

"Thank you!" Jack and Yn said in unison, he taking the money, she already straightening up for the next contraction.

Santos approached, handing over a wad of bills he had collected from the residents.

"Do you think she was holding the baby until now just so they could win?" she asked quietly to Whitaker, who was beside her.

"Obviously." Robby replied, before Whitaker could open his mouth.

Jack led Yn to the elevator, one hand on her back, the other full of money he didn't remember asking for. Before the doors closed, he looked back at the staff crowding the counter, all smiling, all applauding, all celebrating that moment that was both professional and deeply personal.

The doors closed, and suddenly there was silence.

"Yn." he said, looking at her.

"Jack" she replied, and there was weariness in her voice now, but also a quiet joy. "You planned this, didn't you?"

Yn smiled, a tired, triumphant, and absolutely adorable smile.

"Planned it? No." She rested her head on his shoulder as the elevator ascended. "But when I felt the first contraction in the car, I looked at the calendar, saw the date, and thought, 'Well, what a convenient coincidence.' So I decided to wait just a little longer."

"Wait?" Jack's eyes widened. "You were in labor and decided to WAIT to break your water in the parking lot?"

"I wanted to see Robby's face when he found out he lost the bet." She laughed, and the sound of her laughter echoed through the elevator, light and free. "And it was worth every second. How much did we win?"

"500 dollars."

"IT WAS WORTH IT!" she shouted with another contraction.

The doors opened into the maternity ward. Jack helped Yn out, feeling the weight of her hand in his, feeling the life that moved between them, that was about to become visible, real, tangible.

“What the?” she called out for you.

Maybe you were having a self-care night. Charged up a vibrator and such.

Santos chuckled to herself as she made to tiptoe past your room.

There was the unmistakable sound of another.

“Oh fuck.”

Trinity paused.

You and her were close, she could admit that. You were maybe her only friend. So she knew you had been going through a dry patch. Because you were making it everyone's problem.

She listened in.

There was deep groaning from a man and your moans, the soft thudding of a bed against the wall. Trinity thanked the heavens again that the head of your bed was against Denis's wall and not hers.

“Deeper, harder,” she heard you moan.

“Oh, fuck me,” the guy groaned deep. She didn't recognise the voice. Did she?

Curious she tried to listen to the mans voice, wondering what she could tell. He must have been busy as little else was said other than groanings.

Where had you met this guy? Had this been happening longer than she knew? Is this why you hurried out?

Santos thought you weren't one of one night stands. Were you proving her wrong?

She snook into her room and knew she had to tell someone, at least Whitaker.

Robby collapsed next to you on your bed, catching his breath as you pulled the sheets up to cover your slightly sweaty bodies. The bed creaked under his weight as he moved around, getting himself comfortable.

Your bed was a small double, not really built for anyone more than one. Let alone Robby.

“You want some water or something?” you asked.

Robby chuckled, the bed creaking again as he turned on his side to face you. “Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?”

You lifted your shoulders, tucking your hands under your head to admire him. “Well you're the senior citizen with the... bad back?”

His brows lifted. “Oh that's how you want to play it.”

He grabbed your hip and pulled you close.

You were still trying to recover from the multiple orgasms Robby had ripped through your body as soon as you'd stepped through your apartment door. But that didn't stop his hands from crowding around your body, pulling you into him as all his hardness turned soft.

His lips found yours as easy as one found home, kissing you the way he knew you liked to be kissed. Head tilted to reach deeper, nose moving against your cheek.

There was a sudden shriek in your apartment.

You pushed Robby off, sitting up quick in bed.

“What?” he asked, far less alarmed then you as his arm fell around your waist.

“Trinity.”

Robby hummed. “Thought you said she was at Garcia's tonight?”

“I thought she was,” you uttered as if she was in the room.

The dating with Robby had started maybe three months ago when you'd had a disastrous date at the same bar Robby frequented with his buddy Duke. He'd seen the distress you were in with your date when he wouldn't stop talking about why sports people should actually get paid more than health care workers.

From there you had drinks with Robby.

From there he asked to see you again outside of work.

From there you ended up in his bed and he in yours on the occasions you had the place to yourself, which with two room mates didn't happen often.

You'd thought tonight was one of them.

“You should go,” you said, throwing the cover back to find your clothes in the dark.

“What?” Robby laughed, without moving. Instead he got himself comfortable, throwing an arm around the back of his head and tugging the covers down to his waist.

“Yes, do you want Trinity to know?”

“She doesn't sleep in your room though does she?”

Still, you tried to find some clothes.

The word around the PTMC was that Robby was a seven week itch kind of guy, the sort to never tie himself down. So though you'd been on dates with him and though he'd brought you flowers before and held your hands in bars and took you to a fancy dinner, he still fucked you like a guy that could move on the next day.

And you didn't want to scare him away with talk of serious dating. A bit of Robby was better than none of him.

You just didn't want your friends to judge you for that.

“Hey-hey-” Robby moved over on the bed, arm darting out to wrap around your waist and tug you back in.

You couldn't even protest before he was pulling you into him, hooking one of his large legs over yours and trapping you in. Your quilt was pulled up and his head rested next to yours.

At least when you and Robby were done with the sex you never kicked each other out of bed. But you did go into work separately.

“But-”

“-I'll be out of here first thing in the morning.”

With his arms around you and his calming breath you didn't think you could push him off you if you wanted to.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Robby kissed the blade of your shoulder and for the rest of the night that was how you were and when you woke in the morning with two hours to spare before your shift started, Robby was already gone.

“So who's the lucky guy?”

You chocked on your coffee, peering next to you at Trinity. “What?”

She smirked, leaning on the locker next to yours. “Oh come on, I heard you last night.”

The bitter taste of black coffee turned to ash in your stomach. She'd heard. Or worse, she'd been up to see Robby sneak out in the morning.

“What-what do you mean?” play it cool, you could totally starve of the humiliation. Maybe you could persuade her it was a dream, a nightmare, that she was sleepwalking and actually heard/saw/knew nothing.

“I heard you last night,” she said. “Quite the dicking down from what it sounded like.”

You felt the heat in your cheeks. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, I think its good, you deserve it,” said Santos as you hid yourself in your locker, taking great care in peeling off your jacket and finding your stethoscope inside. “So is it someone I know, or...”

She didn't know. You rejoiced silently before realising she still knew there was someone. “That is none of your business.”

“Oh come on, you know Garcia!”

“Because she works here.”

“Does he work here?”

“No!” you close the locker door, not as amused as Trinity was clearly finding this situation. “Please, he's just... a guy.”

She leaned in closer for the gossip. Few things got her as excited as gossip did. “A boyfriend guy or a sleep around guy?”

Wasn't that the golden question.

“Oh my god, you don't know.”

“Santos!” the call of her name should have saved you. Not when it was Robby calling for her as he stood between the two of you. “Pelvic exam in three.”

She groaned but gave a salute. “You got it boss,” she said to him before aiming a finger at you. “This isn't over.”

Santos had turned, leaving and you hardly waited anytime to turn back to the lockers and bash your head into them. Not enough to hurt but enough to erase the terrible fact that Santos had heard you.

Robby liked hearing you moan and you liked Robby so you always moaned loud.

And she'd caught enough of it.

Usually, you wished for Robby to be a bit louder in bed. You were glad he hadn't been.

The cold metal of the locker was replaced on what might have been your twentieth go at hitting yourself with the back of a rough hand.

“Everything okay?” asked Robby, coming to stand next to you, leaning on the lockers. His eyes creased with concern.

“She knows.”

His brows shot up, which didn't indicate a good reaction. “She knows?”

“Not about you, don't worry,” you said with a light scoff. “She knows that I had a good time with a guy last night, she doesn't know who.”

Robby nodded in consideration. “So we're in the clear?”

You screwed your eyes shut. You hadn't realised just how bad you wanted him to shrug it off, tell you he didn't care if Trinity knew, that of everyone in the ward knew, that he only cared about what it meant between the two of you. You only realised when he didn't give you that option.

He wanted to be sure he wasn't affiliated with it.

“Yeah, you're in the clear.”

You left Robby at the lockers before suspicions could grow. Nothing wrong with a resident talking to their attending and so far you and Robby had done a good job at not having any suspicion- not even from Dana.

The least you could do for the guy was keep it that way.

“You had a hot date last night?” Princess slid up to your side before you were even half way across the ward.

You groaned. “Santos told you already.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“Say anything about what?” Javadi's voice suddenly came from Doctor McKay's side. The older woman tried to act uninterested but her keen eyes were watching you from over the computer.

“She had a date around hers last night,” said Perhlah, coming up to your other side.

“And she won't tell us who it was,” added Princess.

Javadi's smile grew and her jaw hung open. “Who?”

You shook your head and stared at your shoes. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“Okay!” Robby's voiced boomed out. He clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention. “We have patients, how about we go ask them some riveting questions?”

Mel frowned from somewhere in the crowd that had formed. “We should go ask them if they know who the guy is?”

She realised quickly that wasn't quite what he meant.

Perlah and Princess walked off together, quietly scheming. “Men just don't get it.”

You gulped down, smoothing your hand over your head and where the growing headache was forming. “Thanks.”

Robby said nothing but there was the brief feel of his hands on your shoulders as he squeezed before moving past you.

It was going on lunch, you'd just gotten a trauma through and up to the OR when you spotted bright post-it notes stuck up on the board in Ahmed's office. The betting board, his mini kingdom had been put back together.

Three titles.

Who?

How long?

Casual or dating?

“Oh my god!” your shriek echoed around the Pitt.

“What? What is it? What?” Robby was at your side in an instant, body almost slamming into you with how quick he slid next to you. He steadied himself, holding on.

“That!”

Ahmed had set up a betting board based on your love life.

The who column was spread with names and the name of those that had bet scribbled underneath. In the middle there was how long had it been going on for, some thought it was only a few weeks, others guessed up to six months.

The last column, wondering if it was a casual thing or serious was filled with almost every post it note saying 'casual'.

“Oh,” Robby chuckled.

“It's not funny,” you argued. “Has every body here bet?”

“Not me, I had no idea. Besides I think that's kind of cheating, right?”

“I see you've found my latest and greatest,” said Ahmed, approaching behind the two of you. “We got this up and running two hours ago, you want me to break it down for you?”

“Holy shit,” you uttered, scanning the board. It was a great and easy way to find out what everyone thought about you.

Robby nodded, leaning on the door next to you. “Holy shit.”

“How much money's in the pot?” you asked.

Ahmed grinned like he was just waiting for you to ask. “Five-hundred and five dollars!”

Robby chocked on a breath next to you as your jaw hung open.

Someone was gonna make money of your guys' sex lives and none of that was going to come to you.

“And I'm guessing I can't get in on it?” you asked.

“No," said Ahmed. “Unless, you know, you wanna tell me who it is and I'll split the money between us.”

“And who do you think it is?” asked Robby. He asked casually, still leaning on the doorframe like he couldn't care less. If he was a girl in a rom-com he might have even checked on his nails or twirled his hair. But you'd studied him close the last couple months, you'd worked all his emotions out into your own little Robby dictionary.

There was a hint of jealousy.

“Well, I've gone with the fan favourite,” he said, plucking off his post it note to show you. “Frank. Three months. And serious.”

“Langdon!” Robby announced.

Uh-oh.

“Yeah, man,” he said. “More than half these notes say it's him.”

On further reading you noticed it did. On yellows and pinks and greens Frank's name was written in quick scribbles or thought out curves.

Frank? Sure the two of you were close. You'd worked close together for a year- nearly two. You worked coordinated well in traumas and with patients you always knew what the other was thinking.

Since his divorce with you'd been helping him as much as you could. You had a friend who was a good lawyer and when he had a chance to see the kids you always covered.

You knew, of course, everything that had happened with the benzos.

You knew Robby still wasn't back to being best-buds with the guy.

You didn't know everyone thought you and Frank were together!

Donnie side stepped past you, coming in with his bets. “I got it, I got it-”

Robby snatched them from his hand, scoffing at whatever was written.

“Langdon. Two weeks and serious.”

“Et-tu, Donnie?” you asked.

“I got fifty in the pool, looking to get a new tv, you know.”

Robby stormed off.

Donnie watched. “He got a bet in?”

“Not yet, sorry, you don't mind?” asked Ahamed.

You scoffed. “Do I have a choice?”

You left them to it, finding Robby sitting at the nurses station at a computer. His jaw clenched and fingers worked furiously over the keypads. You evaluated the area before leaning in. “If you put a pool in we could split the money?”

“Should I put a bet in for Langdon?” He didn't look up to you as he slid on his glasses.

It angered you because he seemed annoyed at something he knew not to be true and because he slid on the glasses that made him even hotter than he already was.

“Is there something wrong, Robby?”

“No.”

“You seem-”

“- I'm not,” he snapped.

He was.

Robby wouldn't admit how much he let his emotions rule, especially anger. He used to be terrible for it but for a while he'd been better, lighter on his feet, patient. Since about.... well, since you started seeing each other.

“Hey.” Langdon joined your side.

You noticed a vein in Robby's neck twitch. “Hey.”

“You seen what everyone's saying?” asked Frank. “Apparently we're seeing each other?”

“Yeah,” you said, turning to him. “I had no idea.”

“You think I should buy a ring next?” he teased.

Robby slammed his hands on the counter, pushing himself up and storming off without so much as a glance.

Frank watched. “What's his problem?”

What was his problem? You'd love to know. “He had a bet on someone else,” you excused.

“Oh bummer,” said Frank. “You think he lost a lot of money?”

You didn't have time to come up with another lie as you spotted Santos and Whitaker walking by. Politely, you ditched Frank, promising you'd catch him for lunch.

“Did you start a betting system on my sex life?” you asked Trinity.

She smirked. “That wasn't me, I had nothing to do with that, seriously!”

“It's true,” said Denis. “But she was the first to put down a bet on Frank.”

You looked at her. You knew the history between her and Frank. Why would she want you to sleep with him? “You hate Frank?”

She shrugged. “So I guessed you were sleeping with him and didn't want to tell me because you know I don't like him.”

You shook your head. “I didn't want to tell you because it's none of your business.” You considered Whitaker. “Who'd you bet for?”

“I-I didn't, I-I wouldn't-”

“He bet on Nick from radiology.”

All of this from Robby sleeping with you in your apartment. Next time- if there was even gong to be a next time- you were doing it at his.

By the end of your shift anyone that hadn't placed a bet had.

Franks name had doubled and the pot was up to one thousand dollars (the highest bet in Pitt history). Frank found it funny, cracking jokes about it all day, throwing arms around you and dragging you onto cases saying 'couples that save lives together, stay together.'

Any other time you'd have laughed.

But when Robby was around every corner, glaring yet refusing to talk to you you couldn't find amusement in it.

The night had come and you were catching a break at the ambulance bay, sitting down on the curb. You were home in an hour, Denis had already gone to Amy's to deliver a lamb or something and Santos was supposed to be at Garcia's tonight.

But you highly doubted you'd have company.

“Hey,” Jack greeted, walking over to you in his midnight scrubs and bag slung over his shoulder. “How's my favourite day shift resident?”

You smiled a tired one at him. “How much money do you have in your wallet?”

Without a beat Jack fetched it and offered you what he had. Because that's the kind of guy Jack was.

“No, no,” you chuckled. “I don't need your cash. There's a betting pool on about who I'm sleeping with. I just- I was gonna ask you to not place a bet.”

Jack laughed, setting next to you on the curb, stretching out his prosthetic leg. “Would be a bit unfair seeing's as I'm best pals with the guy you're dating.”

“Not dating,” you corrected. “Probably not even seeing each other after today.”

Jack listened as you explained the distance, the glares, the snapping that returned to Robby. He didn't jump to defend his friend, he listened to you and took notes mentally. “The guys an emotional wreck. You know that. I know that.”

“But I thought he was doing better?”

“He was- is. Since he started dating you,” he said. “You ask me he's dealing with some emotions he doesn't know how to process. Jealousy. Greed. What's the other deadly sin?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Lust?”

“Yeah. That.”

“So I'm supposed to what? Let him be a dick all over again?”

“Oh fuck no,” said Jack firmly. “Put him in his place.”

Admittedly you didn't want to. You wanted to go back to being whatever it was you had with Robby. You wanted to hold hands and share beers in shitty bars at least an hour out of town so it was kept a secret. You wanted the brush of hands between the rush of patients and the discreet meetings at his or yours.

But how far were you willing to bend before you broke?

“So who's everyone putting bets on anyway?” Jack asked.

“Frank.”

Understanding of the situation hit him. “Ah.”

“Yeah. Ah.”

Suddenly the wail of an ambulance cut through the quiet.

The doors burst open, Robby, Santos, King, Jesse all pouring out.

“GSW to the chest, forty-two year old male, weak pulse, un-conscious on the ride over,” said Robby tugging on his gloves as you and Jack jumped up. He spared a glance at the two of you before the ambulance pulled up.

You jumped into it, wheeling the gurney ahead into trauma two. Everyone working around the man.

“Okay we move him on the count of three,” said Jack as you all got a hold of the patient. “One... two... three!”

He was heavier than some, not that it would effect your level of care but it made moving him just that but more difficult. There was a breath of air and struggle from Jack and Robby, the noises you had to drown out.

“Lets get an intubation tray going!” called Robby.

The two of you crossed each other, swapping sides.

“Can we talk later?” he uttered as he paused for only a second.

“Whatever, Robby.”

He sighed heavy.

The rest of you carried on gaging the extent of his injury.

“So do you want me out the apartment tonight so your man friend can come around?” asked Santos at your side.

“I want you out cause I'm annoyed at you.”

“Ouch.”

“Okay we need to turn him to see if it went through, on my say!” yelled Robby.

The team had thinned as orders had been barked, there were two of you on either side of him: Robby and Jack, and you and Santos.

Robby passed a nod. “Okay, roll!”

You and Trinity pulled while the men on the other side pushed but maybe Robby didn't have a good grip or maybe he hadn't expected him to be so heavy.

Robby grunted and groaned. “Ah, urg-”

“Not through,” Jack grunted.

You tried to lower him as slow as you could but it wasn't slow enough as Robby's hand got trapped under.

“Oh! Fuck me!”

You and Jack lifted the body quick and Robby released his hand.

Santos was frozen.

The whole room seemed to pause for a second.

“Oh my god!” Santos cheered, arms thrown wide. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

What was wrong with her?

It took you a second to realise, memory of last night coming to you.

Robby over you, thrusting careful.

Your body moved with his thrusts but you wrapped your legs around him, pushing his pelvis in till you felt the length of him deep. “Deeper, harder,” you'd begged.

Robby had groaned out loud, just the way you liked to hear him. “Oh! Fuck me!”

He'd uttered the words into you as he pressed his weight down, squashing you onto your squeaky bed. He'd wrapped his hands around your neck, squeezing just enough to have your walls fluttering around his cock.

Santos had been home longer than you'd thought.

Now, she was practically jumping up and down, smirking. “Oh my god!”

“Trinity can I talk to you outside please?”

“It's- you- and-” her arms were waving around.

“Outside, please, Trinity!”

Everyone was staring.

“Trinity, outside!” You guided her out and she let you, abandoning the trauma and ripping off her gown. You returned, finding Robby's gaze and Jack's amused grin as he tended to the patient. “Sorry, Doctor Robby, may I talk to Santos outside for a moment?”

Robby must have jumped to the same conclusion as you. “Er yes, yes! Of course, go!”

You rushed out, nudging Trinity into an empty exam room as she laughed. You closed the door and pulled the curtain over the glass.

“It's Doctor Robby!” she said at once. “It's Doctor Robby! You're sleeping with Doctor Robby!”

“Can you keep your voice down?”

Santos laughed again, a full belly laugh. “Oh my god, this whole time I thought it was Frank. Oh, I'm so happy.” She wiped at amused tears.

“Hey!”

“How long have you been sleeping with him?”

You shook your head, tugging off your own hospital gown. “It doesn't matter.”

Finally Trinity considered you. Her laughter died. “What-what do you mean?”

How could you explain that what she'd heard last night was over hardly twenty-four hours later.

The door pushed open and Robby stepped through, gown and gloves already gone.

“Is everything okay in here?” he asked, looking between the two of you.

“You and you?” Trinity confirmed, finger gesturing between the two of you.

Robby ran his hands through the back of his hair.

“I just can't believe it,” she said. “You guys are dating?”

Robby sighed out a “yes” at the same time you shook your head, “no”

Now, Robby looked at you.

Santos folded her arms over her chest, smirking and watching like the two of you were her favourite show. “Oh.”

Robby's hands fell to his hips as he looked at you. “What do you mean, no?”

“What do you mean, yes?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” he chuckled.

Your rubbed at your temples. “I'm so confused.”

“You're confused, I'm confused,” Robby scoffed.

“Wait- I'm confused,” said Santos. “You guys don't know if you're dating or not?”

Robby's eyes squeezed shut in frustration. “Doctor Santos, please. Go make yourself useful.”

Trinity didn't move. She looked at you, waiting for what you wanted. Because yes, Robby was her attending but you were her friend. When she was insecure about Garcia you were there telling her how much better she could do.

In the hospital Santos was guided under Robby.

At home, she was guided by friendship and care for you.

You gave her a nod and she dismissed herself.

You didn't know where to look, didn't know where to touch.

Outside the usual routine of the Pitt carried on.

Robby sighed, hands going into his fleece pocket. “You didn't know we were dating?”

No, you really didn't. “Was I supposed to? You never asked.”

He shook his head, looking down with a chuckle. He started to list things off, counting them off on his fingers. “Flowers, dinners, day trips, was that not enough?”

“But you never said!”

“I thought it was obvious!”

“Obvious to who?”

“To us!” His hands fell to your forearms.

“No to you maybe!”

“So the dinners... the flowers, you thought it was all just, just sex?” he asked.

You'd hoped it was more. You'd dreamt about it when his weight kept you down on his bed after you kissed and made love for hours. Love...

“I... yeah.”

How long had you thought him the bad guy? Were you the one that had been distant, pulling away?

You carried yourself away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed. You never realised how uncomfortable those things were.

Robby laughed to himself, standing for a moment longer. He checked that nobody was around through the curtain before he settled next to you. He shuffled, his bodies attention focused on you. He laid a hand on your knee, tilting his head to try to look at you. “I should have asked, properly.”

“It would've saved confusion,” you admitted.

Robby's hand came up, cradling your face and drawing your attention to him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over your cheek.

You looked at him, finding nothing but warmth in his gaze. The only thing that had been there for three months. “But today, you... you could hardly look at me.”

He took in a deep breath. “I was...” his jaw ticked.

You smirked. “Jealous?”

His eyes flickered back to yours. “Nobody on that board thought I could be dating you.”

“Till about two seconds ago I didn't even know we were dating,” you joked.

Robby shook his head, wetting his lips. “We are.”

“You're not even going to ask me?”

“I don't need to,” he said. “We're dating, that okay with you?” His face inched closer.

“I don't know, I might have to ask Frank that one,” you teased.

Robby leant back, a dark look to him. The hand caressing you fell to your neck, keeping you looking at him. “You think that's funny?”

“Everyone else thinks so-”

He pulled you in by your neck and kissed you, hard, the imprint of his teeth felt through your lips.

You held onto him, kissing him with a new need. Kissing your boyfriend. Your hands wound around his head and you brought him down on top of you.

Robby climbed atop the bed that was not made for heavy make out sessions. He held the edge with one hand and the other fell down your body till it could crawl up your scrub top, un-tucking it and holding onto your hips.

He bit down on your lip and used the opening of your mouth to slide in his tongue.

“This is un-professional,” you said against his lips.

“I've been wanting to be un-professional for months.”

You were so lost in the feel of each other you didn't notice the curtain being yanked back until you heard.

“We got him stable,” said Jack, casually. “Oh and you've got an audience.”

You looked over Robby's shoulder as he looked back to see nosey nurses and night shifters along with half the day staff all looking at you.

You tapped his shoulder and though resigned to, Robby slowly climbed off you.

“Who put down Robby?” Ahmed called. “Did anyone bet Robby?”

The crowd that had watched you both suddenly rushed to the board, scanning the name.

Eventually you and Robby joined, waiting.

“Oh my god.”

“There he is, Robby, one vote!”

Robby's head perked in confusion.

“Who is it? Who?”

Ahmed collected the money and made his way through the people. To the one who had made a bet on Robby. “Doctor Robby, three months, and serious.”

He delivered the money- to everyone's shock- to Frank.

Your jaw hung open as Frank collected the money.

Everyone looked at him, silent.

You couldn't tell if next to you Robby was okay with it or angered.

Frank looked around at everyone. “C'mon, nobody else saw it? He's been happier for three months and can't take his eyes off her.”

Clealry, nobody had.

“I thought you didn't bet?” you asked him.

Frank shrugged, bashful. “Yeah well, couldn't help myself. Here-” Langdon held out the wad of cash to Robby's hand, practically forcing it in. “Take her somewhere nice.”

You wished you had a camera to capture Robby's shock.

“Okay folks! Show's over!” called out Dana. “Day shift let's pass on to night so we can get out of here to have some fun!” she winked your way.

Slowly the crowd dissipated, shaking their heads in disappointment.

Ahmed was already pulling off the notes and rubbing away at the board.

Robby waved the cash in front of you. “What do you say, you gonna let your boyfriend treat you tonight?”