Jack Abbot x Robby’s Sister Reader
Synopsis: After falling off a ladder, Y/N decides that calling an Uber is probably the safer option for getting to the ED. While Dr. Abbot treats her injured wrist, Robby, Y/N’s brother, finally returns the voicemail left for him. However, he isn’t thrilled by the way his best friend and little sister are interacting, or by the tension he senses between them.
Contains: Slow-burn romance • Workplace tension • Medical drama • Emergency department setting • Mutual flirting • Emotional intimacy • Flirting • Professional boundaries • Found family • Forbidden feelings
The school year was finally over. Which meant you could finally give your teacher brain a much-needed break before spending the rest of the summer pretending you weren't already thinking about next year's classroom.
You loved being a kindergarten teacher.
Sure, five-year-olds were tiny tornadoes with endless questions and even more energy, but you couldn't imagine doing anything else. Your classroom was always filled with bright colors, tiny artwork taped to every available surface, and enough glitter to last a lifetime. You'd miss your class this summer, but at least you'd still get to see them in the hallways next year as first graders.
For now, though, your focus was on making your apartment feel a little more like home. You stepped back to admire the nearly finished gallery wall in your living room.
You let out a small sigh as you adjusted the ladder against the wall and looked up at the empty space.
"I hate heights," you muttered to yourself.
From the couch, Cheddar, your very judgmental orange tabby, barely lifted his head, watching you with what could only be described as disappointment.
You pointed the hammer at him.
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
He stretched dramatically before settling back down.
"Exactly. Quit judging me if you're not going to help."
Taking one last deep breath, you climbed the ladder with a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other. The nail went into the wall without a problem.
"So far, so good," you mumbled.
You climbed back down and picked up the large, framed painting resting against the wall. It wasn't incredibly heavy, but it was awkward to carry, wide enough that you couldn't get a good grip on it without extending your arms.
"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned, readjusting your hold.
Slowly, you climbed the ladder again, carefully balancing the painting against your body.
By the time you reached the top, your arms were already beginning to shake from holding the frame out in front of you.
You lifted the painting toward the nail, trying to hook the wire onto it.
As you shifted your weight to reach a little farther, the ladder wobbled beneath you.
Instinctively, you tried to steady yourself, but the weight of the painting pulled you off balance. Your foot slipped from the rung, and before you could recover, gravity took over. The painting lurched forward. You lurched with it. Everything happened at once.
The frame slipped from your hands. Your body twisted sideways. And as you fell, you threw your right hand out to brace yourself. Pain exploded through your wrist the instant it hit the hardwood floor. You landed hard on your hip, the painting crashing beside you with a loud thud that echoed through the apartment.
For a few seconds, all you could do was stare at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. Cheddar, completely unbothered, hopped off the couch and wandered over. He sat beside you, tilted his head, and let out a single, judgmental meow.
You groaned. "Not. One. Word."
Carefully, you tried to push yourself upright. The second you put weight on your right hand, a sharp, searing pain shot from your wrist all the way up your forearm. You immediately jerked it back toward your chest.
"...Well," you hissed through gritted teeth, cradling your wrist. "I think that's broken."
Eventually, you managed to stand, wincing and groaning through every movement as you searched the apartment for your phone. You'd called your brother, Michael, earlier that afternoon. He'd told you about his shift, and you'd excitedly mentioned finally hanging the new painting you'd bought.
He'd told you to wait until he came over to help. You, of course, hadn't listened. You hit his contact and held the phone to your ear.
You frowned. "Come on..."
Another ring. "The one time I actually need you to answer."
The call rolled over to voicemail. Normally, you never left your brother voicemails. Today seemed like a good exception.
"Hey... so, uh... I guess I'm taking myself to the hospital." You looked down at your rapidly swelling wrist.
"Turns out, while hanging that painting, you know, the one you specifically told me to wait and let you help with, I may have fallen off the ladder."
You sighed dramatically. "And I may or may not have broken my wrist." Another pause. "I'm heading to your hospital now. Just thought you'd want to know before you randomly get a call from them because you're my emergency contact."
A small laugh escaped you. "Anyway... love you. Bye."
You ended the call and dropped your head back against the couch cushion. Driving suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. With one functioning hand, you opened the Uber app and requested a ride.
A driver named Taz accepted within minutes.
Thankfully, Taz was easy to talk to. He asked what had happened, and before you knew it, you were explaining the painting, the ladder, and your complete lack of common sense.
"So..." he said with a grin as he glanced at your wrist at a stoplight. "...I'm no doctor, but that's looking pretty swollen."
You looked down. It had definitely gotten bigger since you'd left the apartment.
"That's... concerning." Taz chuckled.
"I'd get that looked at."
"That's the plan." You sighed dramatically. "This is a really inconvenient time to have a broken wrist."
"Not really." You held up your injured arm. "It's just my right hand."
He nodded sympathetically. "Oof."
A few minutes later, Taz pulled up to the emergency department entrance.
You climbed out carefully, waving goodbye with your uninjured hand before making your way through the sliding glass doors. The familiar smell of antiseptic immediately hit you. The waiting room wasn't packed...But it definitely wasn't empty.
You glanced toward the registration desk and let out a quiet sigh.
"Well...This should be fun."
A short line had already formed, so you waited patiently while each person checked in ahead of you. Eventually, it was your turn. The woman behind the desk offered you a polite smile.
"Name, date of birth, and what brings you in today?"
You returned the smile. "Y/N Robinavitch. My birthday is February twenty-third, two thousand. I fell off a ladder and I think I broke my wrist."
She typed your information into the computer. As she read your chart, her eyebrows lifted just slightly. You noticed the look but couldn't quite place why. A moment later, she grabbed a clipboard and a packet of paperwork.
"Here you go." She handed it across the desk. "Have a seat, and we'll call your name as soon as we're ready."
You took the paperwork and found an empty chair in the waiting room. Now...You wait.
You hadn't even finished filling out the first page of paperwork when the door leading back to the emergency department swung open.
A kind of tall nurse stepped into the waiting room.
He looked to be around your age, maybe a few years younger, with dark, curly hair that had clearly given up on staying neat halfway through his shift. A pair of blue scrubs hung comfortably on his athletic frame, and a pair of trauma shears clipped to his waistband bounced lightly as he walked.
He glanced down at the chart in his hand before looking up. "Y/N Robinavitch?"
You stood, careful not to jostle your wrist. "That's me."
He offered an easy smile. "I'm Mateo."
He held the door open for you. "Come on back."
You followed him through the secure doors, immediately hit by the familiar sounds of an emergency department in full swing. Monitor alarms chimed in the distance. Someone laughed from one of the nurses' stations. A physician was speed-walking toward a patient room while reading something on an iPad.
It somehow looked both completely chaotic and completely organized.
Mateo led you into a small triage room. "Go ahead and have a seat."
You climbed onto the bed as carefully as possible, cradling your injured wrist against your chest. Mateo rolled over on his stool, computer already awake.
"So..." he said as he logged into the chart. "What happened?"
You sighed dramatically. "I lost a fight with a ladder."
He paused. "The ladder won?"
A laugh escaped him. "I appreciate the honesty."
He clicked through a few boxes.
"I was hanging a painting."
"My own poor decision-making."
He chuckled as he typed. "So you fell?"
"I was standing on the ladder trying to hook the painting onto the nail." You motioned toward your wrist with your free hand. "The painting was bigger than I expected, I lost my footing, and I put my hand out to catch myself."
Mateo finally looked down at your wrist. His eyebrows immediately climbed. "...Yeah."
You followed his gaze. "It wasn't that swollen twenty minutes ago."
"I believe you." He gently reached for your forearm.
"I'm just going to take a quick look, okay?"
You nodded. The second his fingers barely supported your wrist, you winced.
He immediately eased off. "Sorry."
He rotated your hand only a few degrees before stopping.
"I'm not doing any more of that." He looked back at the computer. "I'm willing to bet we're getting X-rays."
"That's what I was afraid of."
He smiled sympathetically. "Any numbness or tingling?"
You wiggled your fingers carefully.
"Good enough." He entered another note before wrapping a temporary ice pack in a towel and handing it to you. "Here."
You carefully rested it over your wrist.
The cool pressure was an immediate relief. "Thank you."
"No problem." He looked back at the chart. "Pain on a scale of one to ten?"
You thought for a second. "If I'm sitting still?"
"And if you try to use it?"
You laughed once. "Let's not find out."
He grinned. "I'll put down an eight."
He continued clicking through your chart before suddenly pausing.
"Huh." You tilted your head. "What?"
He looked back at the screen.
"Your emergency contact is Michael Robinavitch?"
Mateo nodded slowly. "I thought the last name sounded familiar."
A smile spread across his face. "Know him?" He leaned back in his chair. "I work with him."
Your eyes widened. "Oh..."
"He's one of our Chief Attending Physicians."
You let out a dramatic groan. "Oh no."
Mateo couldn't help but laugh. "Oh yes."
"You haven't called him, have you?"
You sighed in relief. "He already knows."
Mateo blinked. "He does?"
"I left him a voicemail after I fell."
"Ah." He nodded knowingly.
"Then I won't be the one getting you in trouble."
"You think I'm in trouble?"
Mateo gave you a look that could only be described as amused. "You ignored the advice of an older sibling."
He stood from his stool. "I have three sisters. They always think they know better."
You smiled sheepishly. "...He's never going to let me live this down, is he?"
Mateo opened the triage room door with a grin. "Absolutely not. And honestly?"
He glanced back over his shoulder. "I can't wait to watch."
Mateo stepped out of the triage room, chart tucked under one arm. He made it about halfway to the physician station before spotting Abbot reviewing lab results on an iPad.
Abbott looked up. "What've you got?"
"Twenty-six-year-old female. Fall from a ladder while hanging a painting."
Abbott nodded. "Wrist injury?"
Mateo handed him the chart. "Pretty swollen. Limited range of motion. Mechanism sounds like she caught herself with an outstretched hand."
Abbott skimmed the chart. "Any numbness?"
Abbot continued reading before his eyes stopped on the name. His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
Mateo nodded. "Yeah. You know her?"
A small smile crossed Abbott's face. "I know her brother."
"Such a small world," Mateo stated, kind of sarcastically.
Abbott closed the chart. "I'll go take a look."
A soft knock sounded on the wall before the curtain opened. You looked up from your phone. The man who stepped inside looked to be in his mid-forties, tall, neatly dressed in black scrubs with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
He offered a warm smile. "Hi. I'm Dr. Jack Abbott."
You returned the smile. "Y/N."
"I know." He glanced at the chart. “I hear ladders aren't your friend."
You groaned. "They're dead to me."
He chuckled. "I'll make a note to avoid introducing the two of you again."
Despite the pain, you laughed.
"So..." He washed his hands. "Tell me what happened."
You gave him the shortened version.
"The painting was heavier than I expected. I lost my footing. I tried to catch myself."
"And your wrist lost the argument."
Abbott pulled the rolling stool closer. "I'm going to take a look." He looked up first. "If anything hurts too much, tell me and I'll stop."
His touch was careful. Gentle. He supported your forearm before lightly examining your wrist. The moment he palpated the outer side, you sucked in a sharp breath.
You nodded. "Definitely there."
"I'm sorry." His voice softened.
He compared both wrists before checking your fingers. "Can you wiggle these for me?"
You managed a small movement.
"And squeeze my fingers."
He smiled. "Not your strongest handshake."
He laughed quietly before becoming serious again.
"I think we should get some X-rays."
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"I'd rather be wrong than miss something, sweetheart."
Before you could answer, the curtain flew open.
You looked up. Your brother stood in the doorway wearing his pajama pants, hair slightly disheveled like he'd been running through the department.
He crossed the room in three long strides. "What happened?"
He stared. "...Seriously?"
You smiled sheepishly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Abbot stood, trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. "I'll go put in those X-ray orders."
Robby nodded distractedly. "Thanks, Jack."
Abbot gave you one last reassuring smile before slipping out of the room. The curtain closed behind him.
Your brother folded his arms. "So..." You already knew that tone. "Why didn’t you call me twice?"
You blinked innocently. "Oh, I don't know. I figured if your little sister was calling, you'd probably answer."
He winced. "I was messing with my bike, my phone was inside."
"So I figured..." You shrugged. "... I left you a voicemail at least”
Robby sighed dramatically. "You left me a voicemail saying, 'I may or may not have broken my wrist,' and then hung up."
"I also said I loved you."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I specifically told you to wait until I came over."
He looked toward the curtain where Abbot had disappeared.
"The way Jack was looking at you."
You froze. "...What about it?"
Robby narrowed his eyes. "He doesn't look at most patients like that."
You tried very hard to keep your face neutral. "I think you're imagining things."
He smirked. "I've known that man for ten years."
"So I know his 'doctor face.'"
"That wasn't just his doctor face."
You laughed, trying to brush it off. "You're ridiculous."
Robby pointed toward the door. "He called you 'sweetheart.'"
Michael folded his arms. "Mhm."
You couldn't help smiling. "Well..."
"If he keeps calling me sweetheart..." You grinned. "...you're about to have the brother you've always wanted."
Robby stared at you for two full seconds. Then he barked out a laugh. "Oh, absolutely not."
"I am not dealing with you dating my best friend."
"I didn't say I was dating anybody."
"You never joke like that unless you're thinking about it."
You opened your mouth. Closed it. "...I hate that you know me so well."
Robby smiled triumphantly. "I changed your diapers."
"You literally weren't old enough."
Before either of you could continue, the curtain slid open again. Abbot stepped back inside with a portable splint tucked under one arm.
He looked between the two of you.
"...Should I be concerned?"
Robby answered immediately. "Very."
You rolled your eyes. "Ignore him."
Abbot smiled, somehow sensing he'd walked into the middle of something.
Abbott looked genuinely confused. "I... what?"
You covered your face with your good hand. "Oh my God."
This was going to be a very long visit.
About forty minutes later, you were wheeled back into the same exam room after X-rays. You didn't even need someone to tell you the news. The radiology tech had done an impressive job of keeping a straight face, but the sympathetic smile she'd given you on the way out hadn't exactly inspired confidence.
You stared at your swollen wrist. "...You're expensive."
A soft knock interrupted your conversation with your arm. The curtain slid open, and Dr. Abbot stepped inside with a tablet tucked under one arm and a box of casting supplies balanced in the other.
Robby looked up from the chair he'd claimed in the corner. "So?"
Abbot smiled politely. "Nothing life-threatening."
You let out the breath you'd been holding.
"There it is," you muttered.
Abbot couldn't help but smile. "There is a fracture."
Robby immediately leaned forward. "Where?"
Abbot turned the tablet so both of you could see the X-ray.
"This bone here." He pointed toward the larger bone in your forearm. "You've got a nondisplaced distal radius fracture."
You blinked. "...In English?"
"The good news," he said, "is nothing shifted out of place."
"So I don't need surgery?"
The relief was immediate. "Thank God."
Abbot nodded. "We're going to put you in a cast today to keep everything immobilized."
"Probably about six weeks."
Your face fell. "Six weeks?"
You groaned dramatically. "I teach kindergarten."
"I know." Abbot's lips twitched. "I imagine you'll be signing a lot more things with your left hand."
"I can barely write with my left hand."
Robby snorted. "You can barely write with your right."
You looked over. "Traitor."
"I've seen your grocery lists."
"They're perfectly legible."
Abbot laughed quietly as he set the casting supplies on the bedside table.
"I'll let the two of you debate handwriting while I get everything ready."
Robby stood. "I'm gonna go to the restroom before she starts throwing things at me."
You held up your cast-less wrist. "I physically can't."
"Exactly." He grinned. "My timing is perfect."
The curtain swished closed behind him. The room became noticeably quieter.
Abbot pulled the stool closer. "Ready?"
"I don't really have another option."
"Not unless you'd like to keep the broken wrist."
He carefully positioned your arm on a pillow before picking up the soft white padding.
"I'm going to wrap this first."
His movements were slow and deliberate, making sure your wrist stayed supported.
"Let me know if anything hurts."
You watched his hands work. "You've done this a few times."
"What's the worst injury you've seen from someone hanging a painting?"
He looked up with an amused smile. "Oddly specific."
"I'm trying to see where I rank."
"You don't crack the top ten."
"I feel oddly proud of that."
"I'll take what I can get."
He chuckled, continuing to smooth the padding around your forearm. "You caught yourself at just the right angle."
"You did." He reached for the fiberglass casting rolls.
You looked at the small selection.
"Oh." Your face lit up. "There."
Abbot followed your gaze. "The pink?"
He smiled. "I should've known."
"You strike me as someone who enjoys color."
"I teach five-year-olds."
"My classroom is basically a rainbow."
"You don't even know me."
He met your eyes for just a moment. "I know enough."
Your cheeks warmed ever so slightly. He seemed to notice, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he dipped the fiberglass roll into warm water before beginning to wrap your wrist. The material molded smoothly beneath his hands.
"I know." His voice was calm. Encouraging.
The kind that somehow made everything hurt a little less.
"You'll probably notice the cast getting warm."
"It'll harden over the next few minutes."
You studied the bright pink layers forming around your arm. "I look like Barbie lost a fight."
Abbot laughed. "I was going to say it suits you."
Your eyebrows lifted. "The cast?"
You smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was intended as one."
For a brief moment, neither of you spoke. He focused on smoothing the edges near your thumb. You watched him work.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You said you're a kindergarten teacher."
"You like the little ones?"
"I love them." A smile spread across your face without you realizing it. "They're exhausting. They're messy. They ask me why the moon follows the school bus. But they have my heart"
Abbott laughed. "I don't know how you answer that."
"I make something up until I can Google it later."
He smiled, shaking his head. "I had a feeling you'd say something like that."
"I've gathered you're... optimistic."
He finished molding the last section of the cast before gently lifting your hand. "How does that feel?"
You carefully flexed your fingers. "Much better, actually."
He inspected the cast one final time before resting your arm back on the pillow.
"I want you to keep it dry. No swimming."
"There goes my Olympic career."
"There goes moving my couch."
"And no climbing ladders."
You looked at him innocently. "...That one feels oddly personal."
You laughed. "I'll do my best."
He smiled. "I believe you."
Then he reached for the discharge papers. "I'd like you to follow up in about a week."
He nodded. "We'll repeat the X-rays to make sure everything's healing the way we want."
You hesitated. "...Will I see you again?"
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Abbot looked up from the paperwork.
"If I'm working that day..." A small smile appeared. "...I'll make a point to check on how the pink cast is holding up."
Your own smile mirrored his. "I'd like that."
For just a second, neither of you looked away. The curtain suddenly swung open. Robby walked back in carrying a bottle of water.
You and Abbott looked away from each other at the same time. Abbot cleared his throat and handed Michael the discharge paperwork.
Michael looked between the two of you, then down at the exceptionally bright cast.
You admired your arm proudly. "It matches my personality."
Robby sighed dramatically. "I've created a monster."
Abbot smiled to himself as he gathered the remaining supplies. "I think that happened long before today."
You had become surprisingly efficient at doing everything one-handed.
Opening jars? Impossible.
Buttoning jeans? A daily exercise in patience.
Trying to carry more than one thing at a time? A disaster waiting to happen. The bright pink cast had become a permanent accessory, and honestly, you were starting to get attached to it. Your summer break had been going great before the whole "falling off a ladder and breaking your wrist" incident, and now your days mostly consisted of finding creative ways to entertain yourself while avoiding doing anything that might make your injury worse.
Robby had been checking in constantly, which you appreciated...
Even if he was being slightly dramatic.
Your follow-up appointment had gone exactly as expected. The orthopedic team repeated your X-rays, confirmed everything was healing well, and told you to keep the cast on for a few more weeks.
The doctor smiled when she saw the color. "Pink?"
You looked down at your arm. "Obviously."
She laughed. "Good choice."
You left with another appointment scheduled and one less thing to worry about.
The next stop on your day was much more exciting.
Your brother was working that day in the emergency department, and after hearing him complain for three days straight that the cafeteria coffee was "borderline criminal," you'd decided to surprise him with a coffee from his favorite shop.
It was the least you could do after giving him a mild heart attack the week before. The emergency department was already buzzing by the time you walked through the sliding doors.
You smiled at the receptionist as you approached. "Hi."
"I'm just dropping off a coffee for my brother."
She looked at the cup in your hand. "Robby?"
"He should still be in the department."
She pointed toward the badge-controlled doors. "You know where you're going?"
She laughed. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
You thanked her before heading through the familiar hallway. It felt strange being here without checking in as a patient. Stranger still......without your wrist throbbing every time you moved.
You rounded the corner toward what looked like a nurses station and nearly walked straight into someone.
A steady hand caught your elbow before you could stumble backward.
You looked up. Dr. Jack Abbott.
He smiled. "Hello, sweetheart."
The nickname slipped out so naturally that neither of you seemed to notice it at first.
Then his eyebrows lifted. "I mean..." He cleared his throat. "...Y/N."
A grin spread across your face. "I heard the first one."
His lips curved into a small smile. "I probably shouldn't."
For a second, neither of you moved. Then his eyes dropped to your arm.
You lifted it proudly. "Barely."
He laughed. "I like the stickers and the doodles."
You glanced down. Your cast was covered in colorful drawings, glittery stickers, and tiny doodles from you being bored at home and finding an assortment of colorful pens and stickers you didn’t use with your last class.
“I got a little bored and figured it could use some more décor”
“It looks very decorative for sure” His eyes lingered on the cast for another second before returning to your face. "How are you feeling?"
"Mostly just when I forget I can't use this hand."
You gave him an innocent look. "I've thought about behaving."
He folded his arms. "That's not what I asked."
You smiled. "I've been mostly behaving."
"I'll take mostly." He looked genuinely relieved.
"I'm glad." You studied him for a moment.
He blinked. "I've never been accused of that before."
"I mean it. From what Robby says, you usually look like you've already worked half a shift."
A laugh escaped him. "That's because I usually have."
You frowned. "What time did you come in today?"
He hesitated just long enough for you to notice. "...Earlier than usual."
"About forty-five minutes."
You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
His gaze drifted briefly toward the nurses' station before returning to you. "I had some charting to finish."
"And I wanted to check in with ortho."
"And..." He stopped himself.
A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I remembered today was your follow-up."
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...I thought I'd come in a little early."
"...Just in case I ran into you."
Silence. Not awkward. Just honest.
You couldn't stop smiling. "You came to work early..."
His smile turned sheepish. "...Maybe."
"I wasn't counting on it."
The admission was quiet. So quiet you almost missed it beneath the distant monitor alarms. Your chest tightened.
"You know..." You shifted the coffee carrier to your left hand. "...that's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever admitted to me."
His ears turned the faintest shade of pink. "I wasn't planning on saying it out loud."
Before Abbott could answer, another voice echoed from the nurses' station.
"Well... this explains why I couldn't find either of you."
The two of you turned at the same time. Robby was walking toward, looking tired but noticeably more awake the second he spotted the coffee in your hand.
You held up the cup with a grin. "I come bearing peace offerings."
His eyes lit up. "My favorite?"
"You've complained about the hospital coffee every day for a week."
"So I fixed the problem."
He accepted the cup like you'd just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "You are officially my favorite sibling."
You rolled your eyes. "You're welcome."
Robby took a grateful sip before looking between you and Abbott.
"...How long have you two been standing here?"
Abbott answered first. "Only a few minutes."
Robby nodded slowly. "A few minutes."
His eyes drifted down for just a second. Then back up. Abbot followed his gaze. Realization immediately crossed his face. Without a word, he stepped back. His hand, which had been resting lightly against the small of your back while the two of you talked, slipped away almost instinctively.
You hadn't even realized it was there. Apparently...Neither had he. Robby blinked once.
Abbot rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."
"You know your hand was on my sister's lower back that entire conversation... right?"
Your eyes widened. "It was?"
Abbott looked genuinely caught off guard. "I..."
He glanced at you before looking back at Robby. "I didn't realize."
Robby let out a slow breath before taking another sip of coffee. "Huh."
"I've known you for almost twelve years."
"I've watched you comfort family members after losing loved ones."
"I've watched you run trauma codes without your heart rate changing."
"I know where this is going."
Robby pointed the coffee cup toward him. "I have never..." He paused for emphasis. "...seen you accidentally touch someone."
Your cheeks immediately warmed.
Abbot looked somewhere between embarrassed and amused. "It wasn't intentional."
Robby raised an eyebrow. "No?"
Abbott shook his head. "No."
"...At least not consciously."
Robby laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. "Oh, buddy."
Abbot closed his eyes. "Please don't."
"I was wondering why you showed up forty-five minutes early."
You looked over at Abbott. "You really never come in that early?"
Robby barked out another laugh. "He fights coming in twenty minutes early."
Abbot muttered under his breath. "I like my sleep."
"And yet," Robby continued with a grin, "today, somehow, you were here before half the nurses."
Abbot looked at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I think we've established that it wasn't a coincidence."
Your smile softened. "I think we have."
Robby looked between the two of you one last time before taking another long sip of his coffee.
"...You know..." He pointed toward Abbott. "If this man keeps looking at you like that, I'm going to have to start pretending I don't know either of you."
You laughed. "I thought you wanted another sibling."
Robby groaned dramatically.
Abbot couldn't help but laugh.
"I figured." Robby sighed as he shook his head. "Just..." He pointed a finger between the two of you. "...Whatever this is, don't make me fill out paperwork."
Abbot smiled. "I'll do my best."
Robby looked at him. "I wasn't talking to you."
That earned a genuine laugh from both of you.
Abbot checked the time on his watch. "I should probably go pretend I'm here to work."
"You probably should," Robby agreed.
Abbot looked back at you one last time. "It was good seeing you."
"I hope so." His smile lingered for just a second before he turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the physician’s workroom.
You watched him go until he rounded the corner. Robby noticed. Of course he noticed. Without looking away from the hallway, he casually bumped your shoulder with his.
You smiled to yourself. "...I know."
"And I don't think it's because of the broken wrist anymore."
You looked down at the bright pink cast and laughed. "No...I don't think it is either."
