Summary: two lonely souls met in their most sacred place and suddenly, it was like they knew each other forever
World count: 1.6k
Warnings: it's just a lot of fluff and a lot of reflection on what literature means to them (and for me, so this is kinda an insert???). My character is latina, I put a photo here but you can imagine her as you want. No beta read and english is not my first language, so sorry in advance.
Note: I have six mid-term exams next week but I couldn't continue living without finishing this.
Hope you enjoy!
We went around without looking for each other, but knowing we went around to find each other.
-Julio Cortázar
When you’re little and your teacher asks you to think about what literature means to you, your mind goes black. The classroom’s answers are all the same: either it’s fun or boring and feels like some kind of obligation. But at the back of the class, a kid thinks differently but is ashamed to admit it out loud. Luckily, those who were shy could write the answers on a piece of paper anonymously.
Later, when the kids are entertained with their tasks, the teacher takes a moment to read those answers and there’s one that catches her eye. It is an escape, she read, like a portal to another world that has to have a good ending.
My goodness, she whispered. These kids were barely ten, how could they think like that? Those words held so much wisdom and a hint of sadness too. She had a guess of who could’ve written this but in the end, she did nothing but continue teaching the value of books hoping that would be enough.
The years passed, these kids grew up and forged their personalities as the time passed. Some of them changed but one stayed the same. That girl in the back stayed the same, she might’ve grown taller, her body more mature as she entered her adulthood but her soul was the same. She never changed that opinion about books, and that must’ve been the first sign of her loneliness.
She was alone until she remembered the words she carried with her, the weight of the book waiting to be held again. Books became her companion, her escape but also the anchor that she needed when her mind tried to escape from reality. The words grounded her, hugged her when the sadness took over, and answered the question she never dared to say out loud. They were her lullabies in times of insomnia when her mind wouldn’t turn off .
We live and breathe words, a quote from a book she doesn’t remember but it lingered enough in her heart to have it tattooed on her wrist years later. A reminder that literature is everywhere and, whether you're conscious about it or not, it shapes not only your mind but the entire society you live in.
Sol, that was her name, created a tradition she didn’t share with anyone but her. Every time she felt the words were stuck in her throat, she would find a quote, read it, and even print it. That way her soul found peace, because there was someone who felt the same, wrote it, and published it so that everybody could identify with the words.
Those quotes were her armor, her salvation when the world felt too heavy to carry, and she never thought she could find someone who felt the same until she did.
The meeting was so cheesy in a Hallmark movie style. Of all the places fate could’ve chosen, it picked the most sacred one - for both of them.
It was a library, of course it was. Not a regular one that felt too impersonal. It was the coziest and warmest library, each shelf hiding secret passages in between. It was small but it still fitted a cafeteria in a corner like it was always supposed to be there. The smell of books - old and new - mixed with coffee made the place a safe heaven, a limbo where you could disconnect and just be.
One hand already holding two books - quite heavy, may she add - while the other one trying to reach one above her. She’s trying so hard to not curse, too stubborn to get help, stepping on her toes trying to reach that black book that caught her attention.
And like it was scripted, a hand behind her reached the book and grabbed it like it was the easiest thing in the world. When she turned to thank her savior - just for courtesy as she swears she could’ve done it by herself -, she raised her gaze and met the warmest brown eyes she’s ever seen. He was older than her, the lines beside his eyes hid an entire story she was curious to know, and was holding his own stack of books in his big arms - was it getting warmer there or it was just her imagination?
“Hmm, Cortázar” he read the author's name, his voice was deep and soft “ wait, this is Hopscotch?” he asked, handing her the book.
She thanked him and smiled before answering “Yes, this is the Spanish version. I’m just lucky they got it here”.
“Never read that one before, I heard the chapters are disorganized and it’s difficult to read”.
“There are multiple ways to read this book, and that’s what makes it so fascinating: you get different stories from the same book,” you said, happy at the opportunity to talk about her favorite novel, hoping she could convince him to read it.
Her eyes flicked quickly to one of the books he was holding, reading the name of the author, and then added “But I guess the best arguments in the world won’t change a person’s mind. The only thing that can do that is a good story”.
To her delight, his eyes widened, recognizing the quote. His face illuminated in a way she didn’t expect, always assuming no one would know her references.
“You’ve read Richard Powers?”
Before they knew it, they had paid for their books and were sitting at the small table in the corner waiting for their coffee order. They didn’t know anything about each other, the personal questions felt unnecessary at the moment. Every second of their conversation was used to talk about their favorite author and the books that marked them growing up. When they found out they read the same book, a new endless conversation started. They couldn’t stop smiling, even though their cheeks hurt.
None of them wanted to stop, but the library was closing. Maybe they should’ve followed this in another place, but this shared encounter was already perfect as it was. Meeting each other in a place that was a sacred heaven for both of them felt so great. It was like fate, God or whoever had the power, decided to finally gift them some grace and cross their road.
So here they stood, outside the library, looking at each other while finding the courage to say goodbye. Their way back home was in opposite directions which saddened them. Suddenly she was nervous, gripping the plastic bag in her right hand a little too tight.
“I’ve just realized I don’t know your name” she said and they laughed.
“Let me do this right,” he extended his hand. “I’m Michael Robinavitch, but my friends call me Robby.”
“Sol Torres, you can call me Sol but my friends like to annoy me with Sunny” she said, grabbing his hand. Their touch felt electric against their skin like it was sealing something they couldn’t name yet but they accepted it either way.
Here goes nothing, she thought before extending a bag to him “This is for you”, God she could feel her cheeks getting warmer at every second. He was definitely surprised, his eyes going from the bag to look at her face and to the bag again.
Robby.exe had stopped working.
It took him many seconds for his brain to send a signal to his hand and finally grab the bag. He was beyond surprised, his face didn’t even try to hide it. When he took the book out of the plastic bag, he went speechless.
“Hopscotch? How - When?” he stuttered while looking at the brand new edition of the Cortázar book, this one in english, that initiated everything just mere hours ago.
“When you went to the bathroom” she explained, omitting the fact that she almost ran to the counter and asked the girl on the counter to help her. The librarian, already sensing the vibes, just said I got you girl and when Robby came back to the table, he didn’t notice the new plastic bag beside her.
“I can’t accept this” you are telling him that she bought the same book, her favorite, in both Spanish and English so that she could give him an edition he could read? The heart inside him woke up from its slumber and started beating so hard that all of Pittsburgh could hear it.
This woman can’t be real.
“Open the book,” she said, her voice was soft, no longer nervous as before. He did as she said (on a parallel note, he vowed to forever answer her commands, but he pushed that thought to the bottom of his brain quickly as his heart could deal with that right now) and opened the book, speechless again. “See that number? I expect a text when you finish the book”
“And if I want to call you instead?”
It was already night outside, but her smile, oh her smile, was just as bright as the sun - a true honor to her name.
Without knowing, their little bookclub became their lifeline, a little paradise only for the two of them, where they could hide when the world became too much. Little by little, they learned about each other, every quote they shared came with a story of their past and present. By the end of the day, these two souls weren’t lonely anymore, for they found their true companion to carry the weight they felt.
In literature, they have an escape and that’s where they found each other.
Summary: what he said to Samira wasn't okay and you're making sure he knows that.
Words: 1k
Note: I actually had to stop chapter 10 a write this because i couldn't contain my anger against Robby. I love him, he's a complex characther that I found interesting but what he said was unnecesary. Let me get this clear: 1)I know he isn't mentally well right now and every hour that passes, he's losing himself more into his own darknes; 2) I also know he treats Samira that way because he sees her as a relfection of everything he *thinks* he's doing wrong, so he can't have empathy on Samira if he can't have it on himself. HOWEVER, that doesn't excuse him for his attitude towards her. Let's remember they're in their workplace, surrounded by coworkers and he's her SUPERIOR AND MENTOR, and should be acting as one. Having a shitty day and being in a fucked up place does not give him the right to treat her (and. only. her.) that way.
Also, forgive my grammar, as u can see i'm very pissed about this. In fact, be glad this is written in only english as i was very tempted to use every single curse in my language (and i'm argentina, which means we can write entire paragraphs cursing people and sitll having lots of vocabulary to use)
Enjoy :)
“Wait a minute, is this a panic attack because of your mommy issues”.
You wanted to believe he didn’t actually say that but, by the look on Samira’s face (and everyone’s in central 6), he did.
“Dr. Robby, a moment” you said, deciding it was long time to knock some sense into him.
“What the fuck was that?” but Robby didn't answer, rubbing his hand on his face
“I can’t believe I have to step away from a trauma because of a panic attack
…always wasting time” he murmured, but you still heard him and that made you angrier.
“What did u just say?” you asked but not giving him a chance to answer. “ Nonno, you’re gonna stay silent and hear me out Michael Robinavitch”
“Where does it say that shaming, belittling and insulting are effective teaching tools? I remember u said these exact words ten months ago to Frank, and u finished it with "harassment has zero educational value” you shake your head at his hypocrisy .
“Samira is not a student, she’s a-”
“A senior resident and you’re still her mentor, by the way” you interrupted him again. “I saw you around all day checking on the students, asking about their problems and when u see Mohan havin a panic attack you berate her? Couldn’t you stop for a second and listen to what she just said?”
“It's not my job-” but today was not the day Michael would be able to finish a sentence
“If you have time to ask Whittaker about his farm adventures, you certainly have time for the resident you supposedly have been mentoring for years”.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that I am sick of seeing how you've been treating her. You spend every second criticizing her methods, her speed and actually calling her Slo-Mo which is not a funny nickname, it's insulting and humiliating, especially coming from a mentor who she looks up to” you say, not daring to stop in case he tries to interrupt you with his stupid comments.
“You undermine her and destroy her confidence even when she’s right about her diagnosis just because at some point in your life you stopped seeing patients as people and only see them as numbers. And I now why is that, where’s that pressure comes from, but that doesn’t excuse your fucking attitude, Michael. You called her a fucking liability, Samira, who might be, no, actually is, the best resident you have here. Do I have to number the multiple times I have to drag you back from your mind? Do I have to bring to the table the last crime you broke during an MCI?
“That's a low blow and you know it” he looks at you in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe the comparisons you’re making.
“Have I ever called you that and sent you home like you are a burden?” you continued. “Have I ever called you a liability every time you didn't leave your baggage at the door?....The answer is no, because even though this job is tiring, at least I have a little empathy left to spare. And Samira? She has lots to spare and maybe that’s the problem, because you remember when you were like that too. Because, deep down you see your reflection on her and you hate it”.
“Do you honestly hate yourself so much that in return, you hate her for being your reflection?” you watch as Robby's face gets redder with every word, clearly not liking the truths you’re throwing at him.
“Wow wow, that’s not true-”
“Did you know she was planning to go to New Jersey, to live with her mother and now the plan is gone because she’s selling the house she grew up in?
“No I didn't.” Of course he didn’t, he seems to know everyone's lives except Samira’s.
“Well now Samira has to replan her whole life, she went to Al-Hashimi, a doctor who hasn’t seen in years, to ask for advice on a fellowship here. She even was planning to ask Abbot a letter of recommendation. Him, a doctor who she shares a shift every few times you grace her with a night rotation or a double, instead of the doctor who sees daily!”
For the first time since this discussion started, he’s actually silent and refusing to meet your gaze.
“And you know what's worse?” if he thought you were done lecturing him, he was wrong. “Every time you get pissed, everyone is tense, waiting for you to lash out, but God forgive Samira for having a shitty day for once in her life!”
“So am I the problem?” He finally looked at you and you can see the hurt in his eyes but you couldn’t stop feeling guilty about it.
“This isn’t about you! This is about her feeling like she doesn't belong here! And you know what? Maybe it's a little your fault”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, just that I never saw you treating Whittaker or Santos this way. Hell, Mel was clearly not herself all day because her deposition, dissociating many times during this shift and, not that she deserves it, but I didn't hear even a yell coming from you”
A part of you still wants to excuse him for his actions, because you can see the conflicts in his mind, but others shouldn’t have to suffer because of somebody else’s mental illness..
“So what should I do, oh you full of wisdom” his sarcasm was evident but you could finally see the regret in his eyes.
“Apologise to her. And before you go to your great adventure, have a chat because this place will fall apart if she’s gone”.
“You sound like Jack”
“Yeah, we are full of wisdom, aren't we?”
Robby nods and leaves the room, maybe to central 6 so he can apologise. “Oh and he's clearly hearing about this when he wakes up!” you say loud enough so that he can hear
So, I did not have blocking somebody over their take on Bailey of all people on my 2026 bingo card, but here we are!
Since this take seriously annoyed me, I guess I'm jumping into this discussion. For everyone that is upset that Nolan doesn't support Bailey, what would your opinion be if the situation were reversed? Would you expect Bailey to give up her job at LAFD and transfer from one base to another if John got a job offer in DC? Would folks be saying that Bailey is just holding John back if she said no? Of course not! So why is it the case when it's Bailey who's gotten the job offer? Since the moment Bailey decided this is what she wanted, she has been bullying John to go along with it. He has every right to question why she's suddenly so gung ho to upend their lives.
So let's look at this from the storyline that is mirroring it. Let's take a look at Wopez. Wesley also had an enormous job opportunity dropped in his lap. He had no designs on becoming the DA. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was an enormous opportunity. And Angela was SO NOT down for it at first. She wanted to buy a new house. She wanted to protect their kids. She knows this is going to put their entire family in the spotlight. But even though she was reluctant to go along with it at first, Wesley made his case on why this was something he suddenly wanted to do. And Angela came around. Because they talked about it. They discussed the pros and cons. She saw how passionate Wesley was becoming about it.
But why is Bailey suddenly dead set on taking this job? Her reasons are vague at best. And she is just expecting John to go along with it no matter what. That's not being a girl boss or being a feminist. That's being selfish. She's only thinking of herself and not how it will affect John. I'm not saying that in a real-life situation that they couldn't come to a compromise or like Wopez, John would see how much this means to her and decide to make that life change. But right now, there is no discussion, no soul-searching, no nothing. It's "I want this, so we should do it." Marriage is about being partners. You make decisions together and take each other's opinions into account. What Bailey is doing to John is manipulation and I'm glad he's taking a stand for what he wants.
I just realize next episode is valentine 's day so that means bailey and Nolan's marriage has been on a downhill path for an entire year:
1)the whole thing with Jason and Bailey reaching out to a mercenary without thinking that her husband is an police officer and doing that is very much against the law
2)When suddenly Bailey wanted to have a child which ofc is valid but they never talked about kids before. Besides, it kinda felt like she went on that path with whole force and then dropped it off (yeah I know the obstacles they have, but they never talked about it again and just gave up)
3)Now she got offered a job she likes and wants to move out and that's okay if u are alone. But they are married so that's a decision they need to take together, because it will require 2 people to change their life for a job only one of them wants. I kinda hated that she's pressuring Nolan to say yes and move immediately without considering he would be uprooting his life. It's not easy to start again (for a third time!) at 45. Also, her sending him links for house on rent while he's working, not only she didn't care he was on the job (and in the middle of something important) but also, what about the house he built? Idk if this is because I'm argentina and don't know how things are in USA but I would think a lot before leaving the house I own (and built and spend so much money on, considering that they live in a country where it's so easy to be in debt for everything) and move on an apartment I would have to pay rent
I agree with Nolan and I think Bailey has a void that needs to be continuously filled and it's never enough
. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . dr. jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!morguetech!reader
. ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . in which one compliment, one coat, and one very stupid scalpel cut send you spiraling back into jack abbot’s orbit—bleeding, babbling, and absolutely not prepared for what he says next
. ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! graphic injury ( scalpel cut, blood ), medical imagery ( stitches, not graphic, er setting ), mild medical anxiety, emotional spiral / anxious overthinking, self-deprecating inner monologue, implied crush / unrequited feelings ( perceived ), power imbalance ( attending physician x hospital staff ), flirting in a professional setting, profanity
. ᵒ . ➛ AUTHORS NOTES . dont look at me! the jacket is my way of edging them before we get to the actual edging 😏😅 the jacket has earned its way to the castlist. it is a main character now
. ᵒ . ➛ WORD COUNT . ~ 2.3k
JOIN THE JACKSABBOTTS 1K EXTRAVAGANZA
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the coat was back where it didn’t belong—on your desk, draped like a memory you couldn’t fold shut.
you didn’t put it back on ( even though he told you to wear it ). you’d thought about it, thought maybe the extra warmth would keep your brain from spiraling—but the weight of it on your shoulders made it worse. you couldn’t breathe with it on. so you'd placed it carefully in the corner of your desk, hoping it would stop staring.
it didn’t.
you had a body on the table. male, late fifties, post-op complications. nothing traumatic. nothing you hadn’t seen a hundred times before. you went through the motions : pulled the cart into place, adjusted the overhead light, unzipped the bag. the hum of the cooler, the click of your pen, the rustle of latex gloves—routine, familiar, grounding.
still, you kept glancing back.
'don’t look at me like that,' you muttered, tugging the sheet down to expose the man's torso. 'not you. him.' your eyes flicked to the desk. 'the coat. it’s staring again.'
you sighed and looked back at the body. 'you ever have a doctor who ruined your entire emotional equilibrium with one compliment and a jacket? no? lucky you.”
the corpse didn’t answer.
'not that i think it was a real compliment,' you added, setting up your scale and camera. 'i’m not delusional. he was just being polite. a guilt offering. like a sorry for making you feel like a walking pathology specimen last week kind of thing.'
you adjusted the camera. 'still. he didn’t have to say it. it suits you.' you rolled your eyes and shook your head. 'that’s the kind of thing that short-circuits a girl’s brain, you know?'
click. photo taken.
'i’ve been thinking about it for two days,' you continued. 'you know what that means? i haven’t watched any tv. i haven’t listened to my podcasts. i—' you hesitated. '—i forgot to label the scalpels last night. me. the scalpel-labeling queen. not my idea, im not that self-absorbed.'
you peeled back the id band on the corpse’s wrist, checked it against the log.
'i’m pathetic,' you mumbled.
the body, to his credit, said nothing.
'anyway, let’s get your sample. then i’ll stop rambling and let you enjoy your eternal rest in peace and silence and climate-controlled perfection.'
you reached for the scalpel.
and you weren’t looking. not at your hand. not at the angle.
you were thinking about his hands. the way they’d stitched your palm last week. the way he’d said your name—well, okay, nickname. still. his voice had dipped when he said it.
and that was when it happened.
a sharp slip. a hiss of pain. the blade biting in—clean, fast, too deep.
you dropped it with a gasp.
blood bloomed through the glove almost instantly.
'oh, come on,' you groaned, grabbing a wad of gauze with your good hand. you applied pressure, but it wasn’t enough. the blood was already dripping onto the floor, your shoe, the tray of sterile tools.
you turned to the body again, holding up your bleeding hand. 'well, congratulations. you’re the first dead guy to see me have a full-on medical spiral in real time.'
still no reply. obviously.
'don't look so smug. this is your fault, you know.' you pressed the gauze tighter. 'if you’d just let me stay distracted without bleeding about it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.'
the corpse was unmoved.
you looked down at your hand. it was a mess.
you were going to need stitches.
which meant only one thing.
you were going to have to go upstairs.
the elevator ride to the er felt like ascending to your own personal hell.
you kept your hand cradled close to your chest, gauze pressed tight, blood still seeping through the layers. the pain was manageable. the shame? not so much.
you should’ve waited. should’ve radioed someone. should’ve done literally anything else but walk yourself, in your oversized morgue scrubs and haunted raccoon eyes, up to the one place you’d been aggressively avoiding since the beginning of your shift. since he told you it suited you. since your entire brain short-circuited and your hand decided to follow.
the er doors slid open with their usual groan, and you stepped into the chaos like a deer crossing a freeway at rush hour.
don’t panic, you told yourself. just get someone other than jack abbot. anyone. a resident. a nurse. a vending machine with first-aid supplies.
you made it five steps before you heard your name.
'hey—morgue girl?'
she, dana, appeared at your elbow like a horror movie jump scare, coffee in one hand, chart in the other. her eyes scanned you—then dropped to the soaked gauze in your hand.
her whole expression shifted.
'what the hell did you do?' she asked, half-concerned, half-amused.
'i—uh—i had a moment,' you mumbled. 'it’s fine. i’m fine. just need some stitches.'
dana’s brows lifted. 'sure looks like more than ‘just’—wait, you walked up here like that?'
you nodded. she blinked. 'jesus,' she muttered, then turned and called over her shoulder. 'hey, jack!'
'dana!'
but it was too late.
jack appeared from bay two, chart in hand, brow furrowed—until he saw you. everything in his expression changed. his shoulders straightened. his steps quickened.
you wanted to sink into the linoleum.
'what happened?' he asked, voice low, serious, and somehow ten times louder than anything else in the room.
'i—' you lifted the gauze. 'it’s not that bad.'
he didn’t answer. just reached out and gently took your wrist in his hand, tilting it so he could see. the pressure was feather-light. his fingers were warm.
he pulled the gauze back.
blood bloomed. fast. too fast. you felt light headed. his jaw flexed. 'bay three,' he said, already steering you toward it. 'i really don’t need—'
'bay. three.'
you opened your mouth to protest—too late. he’d already turned, barking over his shoulder to dana, 'get one of the kids to cover four and five. i’m taking care of this one.'
dana blinked. 'uh, i could grab shen? he’s—'
'no.' jack’s voice sliced clean through the noise. final. '’ll do it.'
you flinched.
dana raised an eyebrow but backed off with a knowing smirk, already halfway down the hall.
you didn’t move.
jack turned to you, hands already gloved. 'go.'
you followed because your legs didn’t have the spine to disobey. the curtain swished closed behind you, and you found yourself once again in the crash room. the scene of the crime. the battlefield of coats and compliments and feelings.
he gestured to the bed.
you hesitated.
'up.'
you climbed onto the gurney like you were being sent to the gallows.
you watched him gather the suture kit. watched the ease in his movements, the confidence in his hands. prepped a tray of supplies with practiced ease. you stared at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact like your life depended on it.
'you—you don’t have to,' you said, voice shaking as you stared at your shoes. 'i mean, you could ask one of your residents. i’m sure they’re—'
'i trained them,' jack said flatly. 'doesn’t mean i trust them.'
you blinked. 'but—'
he stepped closer. took your injured hand with such deliberate gentleness you nearly forgot to breathe. 'they’re still learning,' he said. 'you’re not a practice body.'
your heart stuttered at that.
his fingers were careful. gentle, even—but his eyes? still sharp. still on you.
the sterile silence stretched while he prepped the stitches. you watched his hands work, the burn in your palm nothing compared to the burn in your face.
he didn’t speak again until the needle was in his grip.
'so, how’d it happen?'
you tensed. 'it’s—uh, it’s nothing, really. just a—uh—a stupid slip. happens all the time, you know, just one of those days and the scalpel was, um, sharp—obviously—and it just—'
'try again,' he said, without looking up.
you swallowed.
'tell me the truth,' he added, quieter this time. 'you’ve done this job for how long? three years?' your heart stuttered because that? there was no reason he'd know that. and that meant that he'd asked about you. he'd purposely tried to find out information about you.
'four.'
'exactly. so i doubt you just forgot how to handle a scalpel overnight.' he glanced up, brow raised. 'what really happened?'
you shriveled under his stare. your mouth opened. closed. opened again. and then it all came out at once.
'i—okay—i was distracted, alright? i was cleaning the table and i just—i wasn’t thinking straight because someone told me to keep their stupid coat and then they told me it—it suits me—and i couldn’t stop thinking about it which is ridiculous because i know you were just being polite and trying to be nice and maybe like, not feel guilty for yelling at me which is fine by the way, i wasn’t mad or anything but it just got in my head and—and—then i knocked the tray over and i grabbed the blade without looking and now we’re here—so.'
silence.
utter silence.
you didn’t breathe.
your eyes were huge.
because, oh god, what had you just said? why had you said that?
and jack abbot was fucking grinning. not smirking. not smoldering. grinning. like a goddamn kid. like someone just handed him the sun.
'jesus christ,' he muttered, shaking his head. 'you’re unbelievable.'
you buried your face in your uninjured hand. 'i know, i know, i didn’t mean to say all of that, just—forget it—'
'no way.' he was beaming now. 'you think I gave you my coat because I felt guilty?'
you looked at him like he’d just accused you of grand larceny. 'well—yeah?' you squeaked. he huffed out a laugh—soft, warm, real. 'morgue girl…'
'what?'
he bent forward slightly, still holding your hand with one of his own, the needle paused in the other. you blinked up at him, still reeling, still red, still trying to play catch-up while he tugged the last stitch tight.
he cut the thread with a flick of surgical scissors.
then he looked at you. really looked.
and he said, voice low, not flirty, not teasing—earnest. 'yeah, okay. the first time i gave you the coat… that was guilt. i’ll admit it.”
you froze. 'but the second time?'
he leaned back on his stool, hands braced loosely on his knees, head tilted like he was debating how honest to be.'that wasn’t about guilt,' he said.
he glanced away for half a second—then back. 'that was because i didn’t like the thought of you freezing half to death down there. not when i could do something about it.'
your lips parted. no words came.
'i’ve worked in this hospital for years,' he went on, almost to himself. 'plenty of people down in the morgue. most of ‘em i barely remember. but you?' his eyes caught yours again.
'you’re the first one i’ve ever gone downstairs for.'
you felt your breath stick in your throat. your fingers twitched. your skin felt too warm under the er lights.
'i didn’t mean to mess with your head,' he added, softer now. 'but i’m not sorry for noticing you. not sorry for the coat. and i’m definitely not sorry for wanting to make sure you’re warm.'
you whispered, 'why?'
his smile curved slow and dangerous.
'because i like you cold,' he said, standing. 'but i like you warm a hell of a lot more.'
then he brushed his knuckles—very gently—down your cheek. just once. he chuckled again, shaking his head as he went back to stitching you up—like he hadn’t just said the most unhinged thing in the world.
and then he walked out like he hadn’t just wrecked your soul and left your brain in seventeen different emotional pieces on a hospital gurney.
your brain fizzled out.
your brain short-fucking-circuited. completely. full system shutdown. he left the room like nothing had happened—like he hadn’t just said those words, hadn’t just looked at you like that, hadn’t just touched your face like you were something gentle.
and you were still sitting on the damn gurney with your hand bandaged and your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest like it was auditioning for a medical emergency of its own.
what.
the actual fuck.
was that.
you replayed it. again. and again. and again.
because I like you cold. but I like you warm a hell of a lot more.
who says that?? who says that and then leaves?? who says that to you, the awkward morgue tech who talks to corpses and can’t look a resident in the eye without breaking into hives?
your ears were ringing. your skin felt like it had been dipped in lava. you could still feel the ghost of his knuckles on your cheek. like it had been branded into your nervous system.
you kicked your feet a little off the side of the gurney.
you wanted to scream into your hands. or crawl into the nearest biohazard bin and never return. or maybe pass away quietly in the trauma bay because that would be less humiliating than what just happened.
you glanced down at your bandaged hand. still there. still throbbing. still very much stitched up by the man who just emotionally detonated you like a code blue in your chest cavity.
you whispered to no one :
'…what the fuck.'
and then immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, because oh my god, that had come out aloud.
you peeked toward the hallway. no one. thank god. except—was that dana? you scrambled off the gurney like it had caught fire.
you needed to get out. away. back to the cold, back to the dead, back to your lane.
because this?
this was too warm. too dangerous. too much. and the worst part?
the worst part was how badly—how embarrassingly badly—you wanted him to say something like that again.
I screen recorded this off Twitter but I’m gagged right now. Noah saying “sweetheart”?? Like??? That’s Robby’s nickname for the neighbor/teacher!reader in Across the Hall
like I get to hear Robby say/ use the term of endearment real time😭 (I should not be so worked up about this lmfao)
(Also Noah’s youngest daughter bring him a cup of tea how sweet)
masterlist — the pitt x avengers crossover masterlist
Pairing: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x former avenger!reader.
Summary: There's a new regular in The Pitt, a woman prone to stumbles and misfortunes. She always comes when her wounds need stitching and wearing fading bruises, to the point Robby's getting worried. Until her face is all over the news: former avenger tears down crimelord and political connections.
tags: strangers to lovers; violence; injuries; mature; romcom.
a/n: got a bit carried away with the drama, but I hope you guys enjoy this first part! oh, and a special thank you to @jupitersmoon167 for helping me choose reader superhero name!
word count: 4.9k.
— this fic is dedicated to my bestfriend @faethbees luv ya 💜
You showed up one morning, in the quiet period between chaos and the first wave of people from the waiting room. Whitaker came closer to the nurses’ station to find Robby, a worried expression on his face and asking for help evaluating a case. There’s something off, he whispered, don't think she's telling the truth about how she got hurt.
Entering the room, Robby came face to face with a dislocated nose, a cut on the eyebrow, a busted lip and hand with scratches. Adding the old purple bruise in the right eye, it was hard to believe a word you said. A clumsy person that's trying to make big on the fighting ring. It was odd, but they couldn't do much. You were lucid and calm, despite the tiredness, you didn't show any behavior that could confirm their suspicions. So they discharged you like any other patient, quickly forgetting what happened.
Until you showed up again two weeks later.
With a new black eye starting to swell and bruised knuckles.
Then just two days later.
Bruised ribs and a concussion.
And then again one week later.
Sprained foot, bloody knuckles and bloody mouth.
After almost four months of collecting small injuries that required at least three stitches, you officially became a new regular. And with each passing day, Robby became even more worried. To the point where he started thinking about you even outside of his work hours.
He went to work every day wondering if he would find you still alive on his next shift.
The worst part? It seemed like only he cared about your wellbeing, struggling to maintain a professional approach while you kept flirting with him. You were friendly, an extrovert, almost like an orange cat – not a golden retriever, there was a dangerously craziness energy in you, not a silly playful one.
You always showed up around the same time, between the waves of patients, sometimes even carrying a bag full of food for the ed team – something Robby could never understand how you could get it. Other times, you brought coffee especially for him, followed by a ‘you’re the only one, handsome’ or something like ‘just a thank you for your magic hands last time’.
So you talked and flirted, and seemed to quickly know everyone within the department. You gossiped with Perlah and Princess as if you were long-time friends. Even Myrna knew who you were and had a special scandalous nickname for you (Baby Maso).
You were everywhere, but no one seemed to know any deep information about you or your life.
You were an enigma.
A puzzle he couldn't figure out.
A beautiful riddle that he wanted to get his hands on and solve.
Sometimes he had to fight the desire to shut you up with a kiss.
And that's a big damn problem.
“Your Rocky Balboa is here," Jack said as a greeting when he saw Robby approaching.
Robby sighed. "How bad is it this time?"
"Well, stitches on forehead, stitches on right cheek, stitches on left arm, stitches for a stab in the hand. And one dislocated right shoulder.” Jack enumerated. "I must say, looks like gang shit, brother."
Nodding slowly, Robby sighed again. "I know, but the police disagree."
Jack looks at him with raised brows. "For real?"
"Yeah, some detective came here. I reported her on the second visit, y'know?" Robby rubbed his face, already feeling tired and his shift hadn't even started yet. "The detective took her, said he'd keep an eye on her. Then, when I called him again, he said she was telling the truth and just to patch her up."
"Not at all suspicious." Jack whistled low, then got his backpack and threw over his shoulder. "Alright, I'm out. She's on her usual spot, sleeping."
Robby nodded, sighing for a third time. "Thanks, brother. Rest well, see you later."
He slowly made his way to the nurses' station, Dana nodded her head pointing somewhere behind her.
"Don't even bother going to see her. She's gone."
Robby blinked at her slowly. "What the hell?"
"Yeah, Whitaker went there to offer coffee and found the bed empty." Dana said, a knowing smile on her lips, sliding a paper towards him. "She left this, though."
Grabbing the piece of paper, Robby looked for a long moment, then looked to the ceiling as if he would find the answers there.
'See you soon, handsome. I'll bring coffee next time.'
You showing up during the night shift for the first time was a sign from the universe that Robby didn't catch. The following visits to the Pitt were before sunrise, and your injuries got progressively worse.
And whatever you were doing was starting to get to you. Emotionally and psychologically, as if physically wasn't enough. It was easier to notice your exhaustion, like you didn't get a chance to relax properly for just one minute.
“I'm telling you, man, I saw her somewhere before.” Shen insisted, after the ninth time you crashed into the night shift. “I think I've heard her voice on the news.”
Ellis rolled her eyes. “Why would she be on the news?”
“Dunno, can't remember.” Shen shrugged, attention returning to bed 13, where Jack was stitching you up. “Is she sleeping?”
“Yeah, think so.” Ellis answered, a bit of wonder on her face.
“Broken arm and broken fingers? A sprained foot, bruised ribs and several cuts? She's part of a fight club like Brad Pitt.” The younger attending conspired, crossing his arms as he took turns looking at the board and bed 13.
“Dr. Robby is going to flip tomorrow.” Ellis stated.
That night, Jack thought for a fleeting moment to report you again. Worried about what you got yourself into, but mostly important, worried about the effect you had on Robby's life. In the end, he didn't call anyone. Not even Robby. He let you sleep once again, waking you up before the day shift came. At least, both of you agreed that sometimes Robby didn't need to see how in bad shape you were.
Smiling in gratitude, you walked out silently and disappeared discreetly. No hesitation, even with all your injuries. Jack knew that kind of walk, that kind of behavior. He's seen this before, and deep down he wished to be wrong.
You were back to the ER two weeks later, during the day shift. It was a curse and a blessing. Limping, the cast on your arm shattered, busted lip and a nose bleeding. Dana was the first to notice you, but Princess was the quickest to move to search for Robby.
“Welcome back to the living hours, darling.” Dana greeted, meeting you halfway and turning you to room 8. Her trained eyes quickly evaluated you from head to toes. Nodding to herself, the charge nurse declared, “Robby will be here soon.”
You frowned. “Can't you call, I dunno, Samira?”
“No can do,” Dana shrugged. From where she was standing in the doorway, she could see Princess pointing in her direction and soon Robby was striding over with a worried expression on his face. “Your doctor is already here.”
“Dana, please-”
The charge nurse ignored your call and left you behind, with no time or route to escape, soon enough you were staring into a pair of sad brown eyes. You don't say anything, keeping your mouth shut for the first time since meeting him. Robby let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself. Then his eyes roamed over your body, categorizing each wound by priority level.
“Dr. Santos, since you're here, get the necessary supplies to take care of the patient.” Robby ordered, his eyes still locked on you.
You arched an eyebrow, surprised for not having noticed the younger woman's silent approach, but incapable of breaking Robby's stare. Without saying anything, he stepped closer and reached for your face. His touch was gentle, tilting your face to assess the bleeding from your nose.
“Does it hurt?” Robby asked quietly.
His somber expression made you swallow your sassy comment, and whisper cautiously, “No, not anymore.”
He nodded, but you knew he didn't believe you. Robby shifted his eyes lower, narrowing as he noticed the rip in the right thigh of your cargo pants. “And your leg?”
“Fell down funny, but nothing broken or needing stitches.” you answered trustfully, holding back the need to shrug because you knew Robby wouldn't appreciate it.
Letting his hands fall off your face, you instantly missed his touch and warmth. Robby stepped back when Santos returned to the room. He watched the intern arrange the material and put the gloves on, then turned away, declaring a simple, “Dr. Santos, let me know when you finish her treatment. I'll see how the others are.”
“This was as good as a trainwreck,” Santos stated bluntly.
You snorted humorously. “I shouldn't have come.”
Santos didn't comment right away, choosing to wipe the blood from your face. When you were clean and she deemed the bleeding had actually stopped, she muttered closely. “He's always worried about you, y'know? At least when you come, he's sure you're still alive.”
You didn't need to ask her who she meant, it was clear enough. And it made you feel guilty for creating such a deep bond with him. At first, it wasn't anything, just you being silly and trying to distract yourself a little in the middle of the chaos you were in. Of course things quickly changed, there was a spark and connection. You felt greedy coming to The Pitt to get a little dose of Robby. Maybe you were being only selfish in the end.
A voice startled you from your thoughts. “Why can't you listen to me for once, troublemaker?”
Your head snapped towards the voice at the same time Santos turned around. Leaning on the doorframe was the detective responsible for you. You groaned. “Francis, what are you doing here?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Take a guess, silly.”
“He called you?” you shouldn't feel offended nor sad about the fact, but something inside you didn't like it one bit.
Santos whistled. “Trainwreck.”
You looked incredulously at her. The intern didn't look back, focusing on renewing the cast on your arm.
“He wasn't ratting you out, in fact, he asked me why I wasn't doing my job properly.” Clint had the audacity to snicker, but composed himself after seeing your glare. Clearing his throat, he stated. “I'll give you a ride home.”
Saluting with two fingers, Clint walked away, probably to make a fool of himself to the nurses.
Nine minutes later Robby was back. An unreadable expression on his face and gloved hands. He watched Santos finish the cast on your arm in silence. A tall imposing figure at her back. And when she moved to see your thigh, Robby stopped her.
“Dr Mohan needs help to speed up the treatment of the patients.”
Santos opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but decided against it in the end. Nodding, she glanced at you before leaving in hurried steps.
There's a short pause.
“Do you want me to take off my pants, doc?”
“Jesus Christ,” Robby exhaled shakily, sliding a hand across his face.
“It's fine, I'm wearing lace.” You said softly, giving him a flirtatiously smile.
Robby squared his shoulders, stepping up and standing dangerously too close. His ears and neck turned red. He warned huskily, “Behave.”
You nodded and stayed quiet. Realizing that you would obey his warning, he checked your thigh with a feather-light touch. Robby sighed after noticing the angry bruise.
“I'm sorry for making you worry all the time,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual.
Robby took a breath, nodding once. His brown sad eyes staring at your soul. “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”
Of course he would ask that. You knew that everyone in that ER pretended to believe in your lie (because they couldn't think of a loophole thanks to Clint coming to rescue you). Unfortunately, you couldn't risk telling him what you were really doing in Pittsburgh. Risk him. It was safer for him to think you were a gang member. Or a lunatic. He'd never survive if he knew the mess you were trying to clean up.
So you decided on a promise, you owned him at least that. “Yes, Michael.”
“But not now.”
“No.”
Not wanting to push, he excused himself. “I'll prepare your discharge papers.”
Robby didn't return with the papers.
Clint was the one to come get you, papers in hand. When you got out of the room, Robby was nowhere to be found. So you accepted defeat with a heavy heart, and left without looking back.
Meanwhile, Robby was sitting alone in the break room, cup full of coffee to try and drown his worries.
“She's gone.” Dana declared as she opened the door, raised eyebrow and a knowing look in her eyes. “Thought you'd wanna know the coast is clear, so you can stop hiding.”
“I'm not hiding,” Robby lifted the coffee he was holding. “See, I'm taking five to recharge.”
“The detective is handsome, right?” Frank joined them at the break room, a little smirk on his lips. “Blonde, fit, husky voice, blue eyes…”
“Came running to her rescue like those movie heartthrobs.” Dana sassed.
“Fuck.” Robby groaned, standing up and swiftly walking between them to get back to work.
Frank called after him, “Just saying!”
Like other times, you didn't come back to the follow-up care. However, Robby felt in his gut something was definitely wrong. The detective didn’t answer his calls, but sent an ominous text saying you were fine and staying low, whatever the hell that meant. The routine in the ER continued, forcing Robby to focus on patients and the chaotic rush of managing residents, interns and students. The worst part was when he was home alone. He tried to drown his thoughts and worries about you with housework and sleep.
You were gone for two months. Robby wasn't sleeping well, he felt like a ticking time bomb. And it got worse with Dana and Jack constantly asking if he was okay. He definitely wasn't. Detective Francis came by once during the night shift, handed over a note signed by you. Robby asked Dana to read it first, his heart clenching in his chest as he waited for the worst. He was always expecting the worst. When he heard Dana laugh, he felt his shoulders slump in sheer anxiety.
'Broke my old phone. And then noticed that I never directly gave my number to you. I'll be quitting my job soon. So let’s go out on a date, okay? I’ll wear something nice just for you.'
You were trouble. So much trouble. You’re gonna be the death of him. But that stupid note made him smile and feel like he was his stupid 20s something all over again. He texted you a simple ‘behave’ and kept smiling for the rest of the shift. Robby didn't even mind Dana and Jack teaming up to make fun of him. He went home making planes, thinking that maybe, just maybe, everything's going to finally work out for him. After almost one year of you turning his mind upside down, he should known better.
Night shift was finally slowing down around midnight, only two patients were staying until morning. Jack was updating the charts while Shen and Ellis bickered over some dumb shit they saw online when the radio crackled to life. Woman with multiple trauma, in her 30s, crashing down. ETA 3 minutes. The team was quickly to move.
Shen and Ellis went outside to help the emts with the victim. Jack stood back to prepare the trauma bay with the rest of the staff. No one was prepared to see you on the stretcher, completely covered in blood, unconscious and at death's door. Jack felt like he had been thrown back to when he was out in the field saving soldiers years ago.
“Bridget, call Robby now!” Jack yelled, his voice hard and determined.
Jack always knew this moment would come, at least it was him taking you to the OR. And he knew that whatever happened there, Robby needed to be here too. Robby would never recover if he wasn't by your side at a critical moment like this. Would never forgive himself. In the mean time, Jack would gladly Jack would gladly take the burden of opening your chest, to stop the internal bleeding, search all the bullets, cauterize all your wounds, fix your broken bones, make your heart beat with his own hands. It took hours, but Jack wouldn't lose you at that table.
Robby arrived in the ER like a raging river. Bloodshot eyes, hyperventilating, trembling hands, messed hair. He didn’t hear or see anyone around him, no one was capable of preventing him from reaching the OR. The worst part? He didn’t scream or cry out loud, his legs just gave up right there at the door.
He watched silently as Jack, Shen, Ellis and Walsh worked together with the rest of the team to save you. Rocking back and forth, Robby covered his ears but was unable to look away. There was so much blood. It was as bad as Pittfest, maybe worse, because all that blood covering floor, machines and feets was just yours.
“Please. Oh, God. Please. Not her too. Not her.” Robby repeated in a weak voice, drowned out by all the chaos.
It wasn't until he came face to face with Jack that he realized you were no longer at the table. He felt all the air escape him, heart in his throat. There was a ringing in his ear, he couldn't understand what Jack was trying to say. Robby closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the nose. Then, he looked into Jack's eyes for answers.
“She’s fine, brother. She’s alive. Breathe. We’ve got her.” Jack repeated over and over, waiting for Robby to come to his senses.
He sucked in a breath, hands clasping on Jack’s shoulders. “She’s safe?”
“Yeah, brother.” Jack nodded, watching him closely. He held Robby by his arms and helped him get up. “We took her to the pedes room, for privacy and safety. She’s gonna stay with us.”
“What the hell happened?” Robby questioned, dragging his hands on his face before looking around the now empty OR.
“I don’t know, man.” Jack shook his head, at loss. Then added, “I asked Shen and Ellis to find out, thought. Let’s get out of here. Wanna see her?”
“Yeah,” he answered softly.
Jack accompanied him to the pedes in silence. When they stopped walking, Jack looked at him carefully. “She’s sleeping now, so stay as longer you need and then meet me at the hub.”
Left alone, Robby took several deep breaths before finally opening the door and getting inside the pedes room. You were right in the middle, lying in bed with an oxygen mask and wires connecting you to the machines. He slowly came closer, standing beside your bed. His eyes analyzed every bruise, every detail. with trembling fingers, he caressed your face and brushed away the hair that had fallen into your face. You were gone for two long months and now you were there. He almost lost you on the same day his heart had filled with hope of having a chance with you. A broken laugh escaped him, the overwhelming turmoil of the situation catching him once again.
“Shit, sweetheart.” Robby whispered wrecked, eyes still wet from all the tears and voice raw of emotion. He leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”
He didn’t linger. Opting to search for Jack and get answers. He took one last look at you and carefully closed the door behind him. He found Jack and the others with one of the tv of the hub turned on the news. Frowning, Robby hurried his steps.
'Former avenger member known as Shrike tears down crimelord, and brings to light political corruption and executives connections linked to the growing wave of violence and crime in Pittsburgh. Witnesses at the scene helped the hero who was seriously injured in the aftermath, but no one knows where she was taken. What we know is that Shrike's face is all over social media for the first time after bravely using her helmet to disarm a criminal who was holding a child hostage–'
“Oh Lord,” Robby gasped, the world around him tilting down. He closed his eyes tight, hands supporting his weight on the nurse’s station.
“I knew it!” Shen squealed somewhere behind him, voice full of enthusiasm. “I said I heard her voice on the news!”
“Shut up, Shen.” Ellis elbowed him hard in the stomach. Shen let out a faint grunt of discomfort but fell silent.
Jack came closer, standing beside him and squeezing his shoulder. “She’s gonna be okay, brother.”
“I could have lost her and I wouldn’t have know.” Robby whispered, mind still reeling trying to process all the situation. “All this time I thought-”
“Does it matter now?” Jack tilted his head, trying to make eye contact with his friend, a serious expression on his face. “You can't blame yourself for a disguise she created for safety.”
Suddenly, rushing through the ambulance area, Detective Francis materialized in front of them. No, not detective Francis. Clint Barton, the avenger Hawkeye. He was still dressed in his suit, but he was carrying the famous purple bow and arrows. Robby was glad that the ER had reached a lull, with few patients to witness the situation.
“How is she?” Clint asked, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and squinting his eyes because of the bright light. “Got held up finishing the cleaning.”
“You.” Robby hissed.
Clint raised an eyebrow, scratching his chin unperturbed. “Yeah?”
Jack sighed. “She had surgery and is under observation. She lost a lot of blood, we removed seven bullets. Her right arm was broken in three places, had a deep cut on her temple and head trauma.”
“Well, it could be worse.” Clint nodded, shoulders relaxing. He offered a crooked smile, “She’s had worse, actually. But thank you for taking care of her stubborn ass.”
“He's so cool,” Shen whispered to Ellis, but loud enough to be heard.
Everyone ignored Shen’s comment.
“I'll take you to where she is,” Jack offered, hand pointing to the path in invitation. “I think it's best not to draw any unwanted attention right now.”
“Right.” Clint sighed, starting to follow Jack. Stopping abruptly to face Robby. “For what it’s worth, she took your safety into consideration. It's personal to her.”
The hero then followed Jack's footsteps again, disappearing down the hallway to the most secluded and discreet room in the ER.
Robby let out a shaky breath, leaning forward again, tense shoulders and head in hands. He felt like shit. Emotions and reason at war inside him. He kept repeating in his mind that she's alive, she's alive, she's alive, she’s alive like a mantra. But he remained afraid that he would wake up at any moment and be told that she had died on the trauma table.
Jack found him a few minutes later, at the ambulance entrance, sitting against the hospital wall. Knees close to the chest, arms resting on his legs and hands holding his head. Getting closer, he noticed that Robby had tears on his face, but he wasn't crying desperately like before. Jack stopped beside him, leaning against the wall, and drew in a long breath. Looking at the watch on his wrist, it was already two in the morning.
“She’s awake,” he informed, an incredulous huff escaped him. “The cut on her temple is superficial now.”
Robby snapped his head up, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“The little shit has a slight better healing metabolism, according to the hawkguy.” Jack shook his head, still not believing everything that happened. “Not like the crazy dude called dead something, or like Captain America, but there’s something. That’s what he said.”
Throwing his hands up, Robby cursed softly. “It just gets better and better the emotional rollercoaster.”
“Go home, brother.” Jack said, after looking at his friend for a long moment. “Try to rest a bit before your shift.”
Robby nodded once, slowly getting up from the ground. “Yeah, guess I’ll need all the rest I can get.” Glancing at Jack, he smiled faintly. “Thank you for calling me.”
“See you in the morning.” Jack replied, tilting his head in acknowledgement.
Rest was forced due to exhaustion. Robby barely touched the bed and passed out, everything that happened that night catching him as a wrecking ball. Four hours of sleep later, he was re-entering the ED grounds. The place bursting with energy more than normal, night shift and day shift staff completely agitated.
Dana approached him before he could reach the hub, her expression a mix of seriousness teetering on the edge of mischief. “Glad you decided to join us. Your circus has been on fire for too long already.”
Confusion settled onto his features, “I didn't get enough sleep to deal with any shit before clock in.”
“Oh, you're going to want to get involved in this one.” Dana snickered with a smirk. “Pedes room rings you a bell?”
Robby straightens up at that, glancing worriedly at the nurse charge. When she didn’t elaborate, he changed his route. Hurried his steps towards the pedes, throwing his backpack in the locker on the way. Jack was already there, standing at the pedes’ door with Shen and Perlah.
“What’s going on?” Robby asked, worried eyes trying to catch a glimpse inside.
Jack held up a hand to stop him, “She’s awake and has visitors-”
“I should make a birdcage and lock you two in there! That's not being careful!” a male voice boomed inside the room, making Jack fall silent. Despite the volume, the voice sounded more worried and exasperated than anything. “That's why I created your fucking suit, to avoid shit like this!”
“What the fuck?” Robby muttered.
Shen giddly chimed in, “Tony Stark in the flesh, dude.”
“He came from the roof not even twenty minutes ago.” Perlah informed dutifully, arms crossed.
“It's time enough,” Robby muttered.
The door opened suddenly. Tony who was about to leave stopped abruptly. He looked from Jack to Robby, and then Shen and Perlah, before his focus returned to the two senior attendants.
“I’ll be contacting the hospital for a donation to the ED as a thank you.” Tony declared simply, he glanced inside the room towards the bed before fixing Robby with curious eyes. “Take good care of her, that's my only warning.”
Without missing a beat, you hissed behind him. “Tony!”
“That’s my cue, I know the way out.”
And just like that Tony Stark, the famous IronMan, passed like a hurricane. Clint was the next to come to the door, a tired expression on his features. “Thanks again, guys. I’ll be going too for now. Gotta sleep.”
“You were drooling not even half an hour ago!” You retaliated, arms crossed petulantly.
“She’s all yours, man.” Clint said, clapping Robby’s shoulder and ignoring you. He then turned to Jack, “Can you help me gather everyone of the night shift? Wanna know everyone’s names.”
It was obvious why the hero was asking that. So Jack just nodded, and tilted his head for Shen and Perlah to go with him. The four of them quickly left Robby alone with you. He remained rooted in the doorway, staring at you on the bed. Looking breathtaking. As if you hadn't given him a terrible panic attack out of fear of losing you forever before he even had the chance to hold you.
“Are you going to stand there forever?”
You asked, eyes full of vulnerability. He didn’t answer out loud, just crossed the threshold and closed the door. He came closer with careful steps, taking one of your hands into his. You stared at each other in silence, then Robby brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles.
“Please, don’t scare me like this again.” he pleaded. “I thought I was going to lose.”
You drew a sharp breath. “Michael-”
“I know you had to do what was necessary, sweetheart.” He cut you off softly, kissing the palm of your hand before bringing to his face. “I’m proud of you, don't get me wrong. But you’re important to me.”
“So,” you started, using your hand holding him to tilt his face down towards you, nose brushing against his. “You already know everything?”
“That you’re the amazing Shrike? That I want to know you inside out? Date you? Love you?” Robby whispered on your lips, almost touching. “Yeah, I already know.”
You closed the distance and kissed him, heart fluttering overwhelmed with emotion. His arms held with care, but he kissed you back all-consuming. Months of pent up emotions and tension pouring into the kiss. He licked hotly into your mouth before breaking the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, sighing deeply in contentment.
“What do you think about home-cooked meal on a first date?” Robby breathed, one eyebrow shooting up in amused curiosity.
“If it's you, Michael, then it's perfect.” You whispered sweetly.
“Good, because you’re not leaving my sight anytime soon.”
Your laughter echoed through the room, making Robby smile goofily. Yeah, maybe, just maybe everything's going to finally work out.
thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜
comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated!
“she’s smarter than all of us” and “slow and steady wins the race” when every other person calls her slow-mo including the other attending. holy shit. no wonder shawn wouldn’t shut up about it. i’m not gonna be able to shut up about it either
Summary: You meet Jack Abbot during a terrible shift as a nurse in labor and delivery.
Notes: After a really shitty shift, this is my coping mechanism. All similarities are coincidences, this is not an actual patient/situation that I have had but rather a mix of many. This is a separate storyline from the Robby series!!
Trigger/content warning: perinatal/intrapartum loss, loss of a child, infant loss (trying to tag/mention words appropriately so that people who have it filtered don’t see the post; the content warning only applies to the first few paragraphs)
You needed air, you needed out of the unit. Your chest felt heavy like you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t lose your composure right here. Ultrasound techs, residents, other nurses from the postpartum unit, and your coworkers were all gathered around in an attempt to debrief what had just happened.
You were a part of the worst day of someone’s life, the day they lost a child, and that always weighed so heavily on you, but this one, this one didn’t make sense. Baby was fine until she wasn’t, you rushed her mom to the OR to get the baby out, but the NICU team worked her for an hour and never got a blip of a pulse. A complete concealed abruption was the cause.
“Need a minute,” You said suddenly and got up out of your chair and headed out of the unit, you felt eyes on you but you didn’t care. You took long, quick strides towards the staircase and up the stairwell onto the roof, your vision getting blurrier by the second. By the time you were crossing the roof, tears were streaming down your face. You ducked under the railing and sat parallel to the roof’s edge, pulling your knees to your chest. The cold air stung your lungs as you sobbed, able to let go now that there was no one around. You don’t know exactly how long you cried for, but when the tears stopped flowing you rested your head on your knees, looking out over the skyline. Your back hurt and you were starting to shiver, it was 4 am in Pittsburgh in November, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You contemplated staying up here until your shift was over at 7, but surely someone would come looking by then.
You didn’t so much as move as the door to the roof opened, you were composed enough now to deal with your coworkers. You stayed in the same position, you weren’t ready to go back in just yet.
“Must be that kind of night,” A man said from behind you, leaning forward on the railing from the opposite side. Not a voice you were expecting. You turned to look at him briefly. He was older, salt and pepper curls and a black scrub top mostly hidden by a black zip up hoodie, you turned back to the skyline.
“A really fucking shitty one?” You countered
“A really fucking shitty one.” He agreed.
“Labor and delivery isn’t supposed to be shitty,” You said, not to him or to anyone in particular, really to just get it out of your system.
“Yeah, but when it is, it’s really shitty…” The man trailed and you were both silent for a moment. “How long have you worked L&D?” He asked.
“Five years. It’s been sad at times, for sure, but what just happened literally doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Your voice broke on ‘sense’ and you laid your forehead on your knees, willing yourself to keep it together. You had the patient volumes, you had seen some real shit, but this one was hard. You felt warmth over your back and arms, he had taken his jacket off and draped it over you.
“I’m really okay,” You said, starting to shrug his jacket off.
“I can see you shivering from here.” He retorted. You paused and closed your eyes, taking another deep breath. His jacket was warm and it smelled heavenly, it was comforting. Coupled with the fact that you didn’t have the capacity to fight with anyone right now, you stayed silent. He leaned on the railing for several more minutes then ducked under the railing and sat down in front of you, your feet inches from his thigh. He stretched his feet out to almost touch the edge of the roof. He leaned back on one of the poles of the rail and he was staring at you when you finally looked back up at him.
“You alright?” He asked. You just barely nodded your head.
“I will be.” You rested your chin on your knees, taking in the man in front of you. You were both silent for a beat, the hum of the city a soft soundtrack from the roof.
“I’m Jack,” He stuck his hand out and introduced himself. You gave him a halfhearted smile and introduced yourself, shaking his hand.
“Thanks for not letting me freeze, Jack. Where do you work?” You could see his badge clipped on the neckline of his scrub top but couldn’t quite make it out in the dim lighting.
“ED,” He responded. You let out a soft laugh.
“Props, I could never.” You said, shaking your head. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Eh, it’s not all bad…” He trailed off, looking out to the skyline. He cocked his head to the side after a moment.
“Just most of it.” He deadpanned. You let out a small chuckle at his crack and he smiled at you.
“Gonna go back in?” He asked, nodding towards the door. You sighed and sat up to stretch.
“We could just hide out here until 7?” He suggested, pulling himself up to stand, you laughed.
“Though I’ve truly considered it, I figure it’ll probably be in my best interest to go back in at some point. Can’t give away our hiding spot, and they’ll definitely come looking.” You said with a slightly more relaxed smile. This night sucked, but the company you were in helped. He was sweet, genuinely concerned.
“Of course, gotta protect the hiding spot.” He said with a small grin. His face changed, a look of genuineness washed over his features as he extended a hand to help you up from the concrete rooftop.
“I’m sorry your night sucks.” He said, his voice soft. You gave him a tight lipped smile and took his hand, pulling yourself up. “Anything I can do for you?” He asked. This man was genuinely so sweet and seemed to care a lot about someone he had just met. The genuine kindness made your stomach flutter.
“No, you’ve actually already helped a lot, thank you.” You said with a small smile. “I’m sorry your night sucks too, but it was nice to meet you.” You added.
“It’s been a pleasure, come hide with me again, yeah?” He asked with a smirk, his tone almost playful.
“For sure, but under better circumstances next time.” You said with a grin and gave him a wink. You let your smile fall and let seriousness fall over your features again.
“I hope your night gets better.” You said softly.
“You too,” he said with a tight lipped smile.
After a moment, you ducked under the railing and started towards the door, turning to look back at him one more time. You caught him watching you walk away and smiled, immediately turning back around and ducking your head so he didn’t see you blush. You tucked your hair behind your ear and opened the door to the stairwell, heading back to your unit.
By the time you swiped your badge to enter the unit, the slew of people had dispersed, which you were grateful for.
“You good?” One of your coworkers asked as you passed her in the hallway. You nodded,
“Better, thanks.” You said with a small smile. “Hey, do you know wh-“
The shrill sound of the staff assist alarm cut you off. You spun on your heel and sprinted in the direction of the alarm. When you got to the patient’s room, she was obviously post-seizure and disoriented. She was combative and screaming about someone trying to kill her.
Two nurses were working on putting her in soft restraints, you took the place of another younger nurse who was frozen in place, asking her to go get medication to help calm the patient down and to call the doctor. You turned to look at the patient when you felt a sharp pain around your eye socket. The patient had slipped out of one of the restraints and you were at perfect height for her elbow to collide with your eye in the midst of her flailing. You staggered backwards, your vision immediately blurry, and fell to the floor.
“Fuck,” you groaned, your hand reaching to cover your eye. You touched something wet and looked at your fingers. Blood.
“Oh, shit.” you heard, and in a flurry, everyone was around you. You were put into a wheelchair and wheeled out of the room. Someone at some point handed you an ice pack. You hissed as you put it to your eye.
“You have to go down to the ER,” someone said from behind you.
“I’ll take her,” another person volunteered.
“No, I’m fine.” You objected. Your head hurt like a bitch but other than that, you were good.
“I already called a code medic, they’re on the way” Another voice chimed in.
“Oh fuck me,” You groaned and leaned your head back. “I’m really fine, tell them to go away.” You insisted, closing your eyes.
“Oh, I’m gonna pretend my feelings aren’t hurt,” a familiar voice said. Your eyes snapped open to Jack crouching in front of you, already assessing. Two things dawned on you in that moment: you were still wearing his jacket, and he was a doctor.
Nothing was wrong with being a doctor, but they usually weren’t as kind or as caring as Jack had been to you on the roof. Most of the doctors you worked with were real dicks to the nurses.
“Lemme see,” He said softly, gently taking your hand with the ice pack away from your eye. His thumb brushed your brow bone and you flinched.
“You’ve got a cut that I think needs a couple of stitches but I can’t tell for sure. I need to get you to the ED to clean you up and look with better light,” He said. “You also gotta have a head CT, that was a hard hit.”
“I’m really fine,” You said, he shook his head.
“Don’t fight me on this,” He warned, “Let me make sure you’re good.” He shined a pen light in your eye and you flinched again. He raised an eyebrow at you, the look on his face told you everything you needed to know.
“Okay, okay. Can I at least walk?” You asked, he laughed and unlocked your wheelchair, already pushing you to the ED.
“Does this answer your question?” He said as he continued walking and pushing your chair.
“Don’t make me roll my eyes, it hurts.” You said with a small smile. He pushed your chair into the elevator and swiped his badge for the ED.
“I didn’t mean to steal your jacket, I honestly forgot I had it on until I saw you,” You filled the silence. Not being able to see his face was making it hard to gauge his reaction. He sighed.
“I wasn’t gonna ask for it back, though you could have used that to see me again instead of taking an elbow to the eye,” He ribbed.
“Oh, yeah, should have thought of that first,” You said sarcastically. He wheeled you into a room and offered a hand for you to stand up. You took it and sat on the stretcher. He turned the overhead light on. You shielded your eyes.
“Jesus Christ,”
“Sorry, give me just a sec, I need to get sutures and lidocaine.” He said, your eyes widened.
“You weren’t kidding about the stitches?” He chuckled and shook his head, starting out of the room. He turned to look back at you in the doorframe.
“Not at all. Keep the ice pack there, I’ll be back in a few. I’ll put you next for a head CT. Any chance you’re pregnant?” He asked, you scoffed.
“Not at all,” You responded. He tapped the doorframe and nodded, disappearing into the hallway. Minutes passed and he was back with a handful of supplies. He sat down on a stool at the side of the bed and laid the head of stretcher back. He set up his workspace and drew up medicine.
“Lidocaine stings like a bitch,” he said. You nodded, closing your eyes.
“Be gentle,” You warned, he chuckled.
“One, two, three, little pin prick and lots of burning.” You did your best not to flinch but hissed as the stinging started.
“Motherfucker…” You winced.
“It will be better in a second.” He said, taking the needle out. A few seconds passed and you felt him touch the skin around your eye gently, you jumped at the initial contact. “Just relax,” He soothed. “I’ve got you.”
Jack set to work on the sutures, it only took about four before he cut the thread.
“All done. CT is ready for you,” He said, sitting the head of the stretcher up and offering you his hand again. You took it and sat down in the wheelchair.
“Now I’m starting to think you’re the one that wants to spend time with me,” You teased. “Hey, do you accompany all your patients to CT or am I just special?” He handed you your ice pack back with an eye roll and pushed you out of the room in the wheelchair.
“You went through such great lengths to see me again I figure you might as well get what you wanted.” He said playfully with a squeeze of your shoulder. You put your hand on top of his as he wheeled you down the hall.
You took a sharp left into CT and he locked the wheels, helping you up onto the table.
“Thank you,” You said softly. He nodded.
“I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
The whole scan only took a few minutes, he wheeled your chair back into the hospital room and helped you sit.
“It’s clear, but you need to go home and rest. You need to stay home for at least 48 hours. You probably have a concussion. Do you have someone that can come pick you up?” He asked. You chewed on your lip and shook your head.
“I can uber?” You asked. He shook his head at you.
“Not a chance, I can take you home.” He said. You laughed.
“Seriously, I get off in half an hour anyway. Stay here, I don’t want you driving.” He pressed. Your head really hurt and you honestly weren’t sure if you had the reaction time to be able to drive in Pittsburgh morning traffic. You nodded once, laying back on the stretcher and closing your eyes.
“I’ll be back in a few and we can go,” He said, flicking the lights off. You weren’t sure how long he was gone, you had dozed off. He woke you by gently rubbing your arm.
“Hey, you ready?” He asked softly. When you opened your eyes, he was staring at you. His eyes full of tenderness and caring, he helped you off the stretcher. He linked his arm with yours as you walked with him.
“Careful, Dr. Abbot. People are gonna get the wrong idea,” You teased with a smirk.
“Just to steady you, can’t have you falling.” He said with a wink. Your stomach did a flip and your cheeks flushed. Headache be damned, this hot ass doctor was flirting with you. You got to the physician’s parking lot where his truck sat and he opened your door and helped you climb in. He started the truck and handed you his phone.
“Type in your address,” he said, putting the truck in reverse. You chewed on your bottom lip.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much? What about my car?” You started to worry. Not that Ubers weren’t plentiful in Pittsburgh, but it seemed pretty out of his way to do this for you.
“I don’t mind, I’m only a phone call away if you need me for anything.” He said. You nodded and typed in your address on his GPS app on his phone and handed it back to him. He took one look at the screen and let out a snort.
“Yeah I think I can handle that.” He said with a smirk. He closed the app off of the phone and started to drive. He wasn’t using the directions and seemed familiar with the surroundings.
“You live close by?” You asked after a few minutes of driving. He nodded.
“You could say that,” He answered. “What apartment number?” He asked as he pulled into a space and put the truck in park.
“417,” You said, gathering your things. He nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging up and got out, rounding the truck and coming to your door. He took your backpack from you and slung it over his shoulder, offering his hand to help you out. You took his hand and slid out of the truck, wincing as your feet hit the ground.
“Thank you for doing this,” You said again.
“Anything to help a neighbor out,” He quipped. You did a double take.
“You live here too?” You asked, your eyes wide. He let out a laugh.
“Not just here,” He responded as he linked his arm with yours again, walking you to the elevator. He pressed the ‘up’ button and the elevator started to descend.
“How’s your head?” He asked, you sighed.
“Honestly? Really fuckin’ hurts,” You grimaced as the loud ‘ding’ of the elevator signaled that it was at the ground floor. Jack stepped on the elevator with you.
“I have Tylenol though, I’ll take some when I get in, hang on, let me get my keys,” you said, unzipping the backpack that Jack had slung over his shoulder. You dug your keys out of the bag.
“So, you gonna tell me which apartment is yours?” You asked, getting off the elevator when it stopped at your floor and walking down the hall to your apartment. He chuckled and shook his head.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” He said.
“Try me,”
“That one,” He pointed at the door marked ‘414’ as you passed it. You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him,
“You’re fucking with me,” You said, studying the look on his face. “There’s no way, I would have seen you before,”
“Okay yeah I’m fucking with you,” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning away from him and continuing to walk towards your apartment.
“But you’re still not going to believe me when I tell you.” He said.
“I’m not playing that game twice,” You said as you unlocked your door.
“317,” He said. You spun on your heel as you pushed the door open.
“You live directly below me?” You asked skeptically.
“Honest to God,” He said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and showing you the key engraved with ‘317’. You laughed and looked up at him.
“Do you hate me, just a little bit?” You asked, still in disbelief.
“I’ve honestly never been annoyed, more concerned?”
“I do drop things quite often, sorry,” You admitted sheepishly. You held the door open for him and he walked inside. “It’s kind of a mess, work has been kicking my ass lately,”
“I get that,” He said, taking in your apartment.
“Thank you for everything you did for me, Jack.” You said softly, taking half a step closer to him. He locked eyes with you and nodded.
“Anytime. Can I put my number in your phone, in case you need anything?” He asked.
“That’s incredibly sweet but you don’t have to,” You said, taking your phone out of your back pocket and unlocking it.
“I know, but I want to,” He said, taking your phone out of your hand and typing in his number. “Though I guess you could stomp really loud and I would hear it,” He added, handing your phone back to you with a smirk.
“We can figure out something about your car later this week, or I can drive you to work whenever you’re well enough to go back?” He offered. You nodded.
“That sounds good, thank you again.” You said. He nodded.
“I’m just a phone call away, or a good stomp, if you need me,” He said with a wink, turning to leave. You laughed as he walked out the door.
“Have a good day, Jack.” You said, holding the door open with one foot.
“You too, get some rest. Call me if you need anything,” He said, turning to walk away. You closed the door behind him, and then realized you still had his jacket on.
You contemplated opening the door again, but you opted to keep it for now, he could get it back later— right?
Summary: Follow up to Coffee Snob reader checks in on Robby a few days after the stitches incident to discover Robby’s fallen ill and is more than happy, despite what he says, to let her take care of him for a change
Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: Robby’s sick just talk of a coughing fit and some sneezes tho
Author’s Note: When I wrote Coffee Snob I had zero plans to write a part two. Then I got the very first comment on that work asking me to please make one and I wrote this that same day. Moral of the story here is fanfic authors are fickle people who will buckle under the smallest amount of peer pressure so never be afraid to reach out and ask. Thank you so much who showed the first part so much love that makes me so unbelievably happy! I hope you like this one too!
Part 1 Here
With the way he had spiraled over your stitches in the ER you had expected Robby to be insufferable about your injury for the days to come.
As promised you had shown up at his place after work and he had happily redressed your arm for you, taking much too long in your opinion to check over the stitches once again before wrapping them up and grilling you about your dizziness, not taking any of your assurances that you were fine for an answer and only finally backing down when you had cheekily proposed sharing a beer on the roof. That finally earning yourself a glare and swift instruction to go rest.
So naturally you had expected to see him the next day, for more than just a coffee handoff that was, but after that morning it was nothing but radio silence from the man.
At first you figured he was just busy, didn’t think much of it when you fell asleep that night without hearing from him.
But then it happened again the next day. No stop by for coffee, no text to make sure you were doing okay, no offer to check over your stitches again.
That was how you found yourself at his door bright and early the following day, forcing your hand to knock on it before you could talk yourself out of it.
At first there was nothing, you waiting long enough to prompt another set of knocks before you heard it, a raspy cough coming from inside the apartment. “Robby you in there?”
Still nothing but a pitiful attempt to stifle the next round of coughs, that alone was enough to push you to try desperate measures “Look I don’t mean to bother you but there’s this pus coming out of my stitches and it kinda smells”
The door was being ripped open before you could even finish the sentence.
You barely had time to take in the old blanket thrown over his shoulders or the deep purple bags under his eyes before he was grabbing at your arm, fingers already reaching to undo the wrappings as he spoke “you said it smelled?”
You ripped your arm back from his grasp, a disbelieving huff escaping you as you glared up at him “oh so you are home”
“Yes look” he barely gave the comment any thought, reaching again for your arm with a sigh “you could have an infection just let me-“
“Robby I’m fine” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his reach and angling your head to properly catch his eyeline “I just wanted to see if you would actually answer the door”
He glared back at you, crossing his arms over his chest “so you lied to me”
“Oh that’s real rich coming from the man who was hiding in his apartment from me” You shot back with a raise of your brows, Robby at least having the decency to look sheepish from beneath your gaze “you’ve been avoiding me, what’s going on?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you” he countered with a shake of his head, stating the words as if they were obvious “and I’m-“ he suddenly cut himself off, chest heaving dramatically twice before a loud sneeze tore through him effectively putting an end to the sentence.
You raised a brow at that “you want to try that again? Or are we just going to pretend it never happened”
“It’s nothing” he fought back stubbornly “just a-“ and again he was cut off as he quickly pivoted away from you and tucked his mouth into the crook of his elbow, a series of coughs escaping him harshly.
Almost seeming hesitant Robby slowly dropped his arm and pivoted back around to face you slowly, once the coughing had subsided, a dramatic eye roll and sigh escaping him as he caught sight of your wolfish grin “no”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say”
“but I know what that smile means and I want nothing to do with it”
You stared him down with a smirk, Robby meeting your gaze unabashedly though you both knew who would win this waiting game, you just had to wait for-
Another sneeze tore through him, a defeated groan running through Robby once he had recovered.
“Michael Robinavitch are you sick?”
“I don’t get sick” the glare he sent back at you was more a challenge than anything, as if daring you to call him on it.
One you were more than happy to meet “oh so this is just what? Rapid onset allergies?”
“I will pay you to no longer have to be a part of this conversation”
“Oh come onnn” you whined at him petulantly, leaning against his doorframe, making it abundantly clear you weren’t going anywhere “it’s my turn to play doctor”
“You know what they say about doctors making the worst patients”
“They also say I’d make the worst doctor so that just makes us the perfect pair”
Again he just glared at you, arms tightening around his chest as he did so “are we done with this yet? Can I go nap?”
You grinned back at that, holding up a single finger “Hold on real quick I have to decide just how insufferable I want to be about this”
With a loud groan he was turning back to his apartment, making a show of grabbing the door to shut you out, but there was an unmistakable upwards tick of his mouth that told you he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he pretended to be. You took that as an invitation to push your way further into his place “Come on sickie I’ll make you some soup”
The heels of his palms came up to dig harshly into his eyes as he shambled further into the apartment “I don’t-“ he was interrupted by another coughing fit, having little choice but to drag himself over to his couch and collapse on the pillows “fine. You’re lucky I like your cooking”
“I’d say you’re lucky you like my cooking” you shot back with a wink, strolling over to his kitchen and opening the fridge letting a snort slip out of you at the sight “scratch that you’re lucky I stock my fridge like an adult. I’ll be right back”
You got little more than a hum out of the man in question as he sunk deeper into his couch, blanket wrapped tight around himself as his whole body relaxed on the spot making you smile.
Running upstairs to grab everything you needed you slipped back into his place without knocking, glad to see that he had fallen asleep.
Figuring you could take your time with it you started with your own homemade stock you kept in the back of your fridge, heating that up and taking your time to cut the vegetables.
By the time you dropped the noodles in about an hour had passed and you figured it was time to wake Robby up and give him some meds.
Spooning out a portion into a bowl to start cooling you made your way over to the couch, hunching down to just above him and quietly calling out his name.
The man asleep on the couch, however, didn’t budge, not moving at all still when you put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. With an amused chuckle you brought a hand up to his cheek, carting your fingers briefly through his beard before cupping it properly and giving his head a small shake, raising your voice just enough to catch his attention “Robby”
He jolted awake beneath your touch, eyes snapping open quickly as he took in a deep breath before snapping shut once again as he winced at the brightness of the room making you giggle. “Sorry about that”
He only hummed in response, the sound coming from deep within his chest as he pried one eye open to look up at you, a hand coming up to rake his fingers through his beard before capturing your own before you could fully pull it back, threading his fingers through your own before bringing the palm of your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to the heel of it, discarding the hand in the next step fluidly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
You desperately willed yourself to be normal about that as you leaned back slightly to give him room to sit up, Robby seeming to not even had noticed what he had done as he stretched and took in the room around him “what’s going on?”
“Made you food” you were praying to anyone who would listen that he wouldn’t notice just how hoarse your voice suddenly sounded “also wanted to check on you how’re you feeling” you avoided his gaze as you brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling the skin with the back of it as you assessed him.
The silence between the two of you stretched just a bit too long for it to be normal before you were pulling your hand back and looking down at Robby, finding the man’s gaze already on you intently, a soft, lopsided smile on his lips.
“Robby?”
The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of his trance, a slow dramatic blink taking over him as he shook his head slightly, his body physically going through a reset as he processed your question “Good. Yeah. Good. I’m good.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at that “well that’s good” you teased him earning you a soft scoff “feels like your temperature’s gone down a little bit”
“Real scientific method of measurement you got going there”
“Are you trying to be difficult or does it just come naturally to you?”
He started to laugh at the jab, the sound catching in his throat and sending him into another coughing fit that had you frowning.
“When was the last time you took meds?”
He shook his head in response mumbling out a “didn’t” as he relaxed back against the couch and closed his eyes again.
“Doctors” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes, giving his leg beside you a pat as you stood up “we’re absolutely going to change that but first you should eat”
You grabbed the bowl you had let cool for a bit off the counter and a spoon and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.
“You made soup?”
“I made soup” you repeated with no small amount of amusement as you sat next to him on the couch, grabbing the remote off the arm of the chair in the process.
“With the stuff in my fridge?”
“With the stuff in my fridge” you corrected him with a snort, turning on the tv and scrolling through the options “I’m good but I’m not that good”
Shaking his head he picked up the bowl and brought the spoon to his lips, taking a first bite and barely getting it down his throat before he was practically melting on the spot.
“That good?” You asked with a grin, Robby barely sparing you a glance before took another bite.
“Did you make these noodles?” He asked in disbelief around the food.
You shrugged in response “figured I’d let you sleep for a bit while I did it”
He paused at that, as if that weren’t the answer he was expecting as his eyes cut from the bowl up to you “You really handmade the noodles in this soup”
“You were out for like an hour”
“You put handmade noodles in a soup you made for a person who is sick”
“I put handmade noodles in a soup I made for you” You corrected automatically giving his side a small nudge, immediately trying to downplay just how much the moment meant to you “if it means anything the stock I used is from scratch too but I definitely didn’t do that today”
He stared back at you dumbfoundedly, looking back down at the bowl before him as if it had personally offended him “I feel like I should save this for when I’m healthy”
“What” you laughed at the absurdity of it “don’t be ridiculous I made that soup for you now”
“But this is good soup. Restaurant quality soup. And I can barely breathe through my nose” he protested weakly.
“I’m a restaurant quality chef” you pointed out “you literally only let me come in here because I offered to make you soup”
“I thought you would throw some dried noodles into a can of broth not this”
“Robby I live right down the hall” you pointed out with a laugh “I make a stock from the veggie scraps in my freezer like once a month I can make you soup at any time”
Still looking skeptical he finally relented, slowly picking back up the bowl and bringing another spoonful to his mouth, practically moaning around it as he took another bite “fuck that’s good”
Snorting you turned your gaze back to the TV with a wide grin and a shake of your head, mumbling under your breath just loud enough for him to hear “can of broth. The fuck you think this is amateur hour?”
-
Robby can’t remember the last time he had woken up this comfortable.
It was as if someone had gone through his body and carefully tended to each knot in his muscles one by one. All the tension in him had melted away until he felt closer to an amorphous blob than human person. And he had to admit a large part of it was absolutely to do with the fingers dragging slow patterns back and forth through his hair, nails just barely scratching at his scalp.
Rather than like his last nap he rose to consciousness slowly this time, soft blinks allowing his eyes to naturally acclimate to the light in the room, none of this properly preparing his brain to fully process exactly what position he was about to find himself in.
His head had to be in your lap. That was the only logical conclusion he could come to with the way your upper body loomed over him, one elbow perched on the back of the couch with a book in hand, the other hand tucked back threading itself through his hair as if it were natural.
And for a second he could do nothing but watch. Watch as your eyes flew back and forth over the words on the page, your attention fully captured by whatever was happening within the novel, the patterns on his scalp only pausing briefly to allow you to turn the page and continue reading. Watch the way the soft light of what had to be sunset filtered beautifully through your hair from the window across the room.
For a brief moment he considered just closing his eyes once more. Feigning sleep for just a little longer. Letting himself bask in a rare moment of tranquility.
Instead his eyes caught familiar white gauze as your arm lifted to turn the page and the words were tumbling out of him before he could think better of it “How’s your arm?”
And maybe he should’ve made some sort of comment earlier to warn you of his consciousness, but it wasn’t something that had occurred to him until you were shrieking in surprise, his head snapping up at an awkward angle as your whole body jumped with it, the book dangling from your fingers falling as you released it suddenly, the spine of the hardcover book hitting Robby squarely in the nose.
He shot up on the spot, hand coming quickly to hold his nose as the book tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. And it honestly didn’t hurt too badly, the surprise of it all getting to him more than anything, but to see the wide-eyed look of guilt you shot him as both your hands came up to cover your gaping mouth. That almost made it all worth it “we gotta work on your bedside manner”
The quip seemed to snap you out of it, hands dropping from your mouth as you immediately leaned closer to him, desperate to get a good look at the damage as you swore “fuck Robby I am so sorry”
And you were just so close all of a sudden, perfume permeating the air around him, the distance allowing him to fixate on every fleck of color in your eyes, that it had his brain short circuiting, suddenly unable to form coherent sentences, something you clearly didn’t take as a good sign.
You were up before he could stop you, running across the apartment and returning with a bag of frozen peas he honestly didn’t even know he owned. “Of course the only vegetables you own are of the freezer variety”
Still he took the bag from you and pressed them to his face slowly, more to humor you than out of any need of it “You come into my home, insult my food, break my nose-“
“Shit did I really break it?” And again you were so close, a hand on his forearm to brace yourself as you leaned in and Robby was struck by the heat of the touch, by the subtle weight of your hand, by the smoothness of your skin, his next words coming out just a touch too late.
“No I’m fine” You shot him a skeptical look, Robby making a show of peeling away the bag of peas to reveal his perfectly intact nose “Really there was no harm done”
Though the words still didn’t seem to fully placate you it did have you backing down, releasing his arm from your grip and sitting back properly on the couch with a groan that had him chuckling softly, more than happy to realize the incessant need to cough didn’t arise from it. “What time is it?”
“Oh it’s-“ You cut yourself off as you searched around briefly for your phone, the question almost seeming to catch you off guard “4:30…meaning I have fifteen minutes before I need to leave for the restaurant” the words sounded almost bitter in your tone making him smile softly “will you be okay if I head out?”
“Yeah I’ll be good” he assured you quietly, enjoying the way you fussed over him “May even have all my extremities still intact if you leave now”
You rolled your eyes dramatically at the jab, running a tired hand over your eyes “Don’t make me start apologizing again cause I’ll do it”
He held up his hands in mock surrender at the threat, unable to keep the smile face as he did so “Really I feel a lot better. Go to work”
You narrowed your eyes at him, gaze skimming over him studying him, assessing him, before nodding reluctantly “okay let me just pack up the soup on the stove”
“I got it” he cut you off easily, more than happy to learn he’d have leftovers of your soup in his fridge “go”
Another skeptical look, another silent standoff, before you were conceding with a sigh and pushing yourself to your feet. “You took a Tylenol four hours ago so you’re due any time for another one. I’ll know if you don’t take one”
“Yes ma’am” he conceded with a grin, watching as you shuffled to his door and slipped on your shoes.
“Also drink more water you haven’t had any today”
“I will”
“I brought some saltines too they’re on the counter you should probably put something solid in your stomach”
“Y/N” he halted your rambling with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest as he talked “I am a doctor, I know how this whole thing works”
“Oh cause that was going so well for you when I got here” you rolled your eyes but nonetheless relented, putting your hand on the handle of his door, getting ready to leave, before turning back to him one more time “just…take care of yourself yeah?”
“I will” he promised softly, following you out the door, letting you get a few steps down the hallway before he was calling out to you “Y/N. Thank you”
You spun around to face him at your name, giving him a fond smile as you continued to walk backwards “Anytime Michael”
And god did he love the way his name sounded when you said it. The soft intimacy of it, the playful lit you put on it, the way it felt so natural, so light.
Grinning to himself as he let the door shut behind him, he faced his now empty apartment, the space suddenly feeling a lot smaller, a lot quieter, a lot lonelier.
Spotting your book forgotten on the floor he wandered over to pick it up off the ground, noting it wasn’t one of his, you must have brought it back from yours while he was asleep. Making a mental note to return it later he placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch next to a bookmark he also didn’t recognize and a hair tie that certainly didn’t belong to this apartment. Also placed precariously on the table was a mug that was his own, a thin layer of tea still at the bottom of it along with a tea strainer he didn’t recognize no doubt containing tea leaves whose tin wasn’t native to his cabinets.
Over the course of the day the table had become a mismatched pile of yours and his things within his apartment.
masterlist (and writing guideline) — #avenger!reader x the pitt
For my last trick (coming soon)
Jack Abbot x former avenger!reader
Summary: The new attending on the night shift is a complete mistery. She carries herself as if she's seen something worse than hell but smiles as if she has no worries. There's at least 7 bets running about her, and Jack can't stop wondering if she has skeletons in her closet too... And then, her past comes crashing down on the ER like a ticking bomb.
Hero 4 Hire (coming soon)
Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x former avenger!reader
Summary: There's a new regular in The Pitt, a woman prone to stumbles and misfortunes. She always comes when her wounds need stitching and wearing fading bruses, to the point Robby's getting worried. Until her face is all over the news: former avenger tears down crimelord and political connections.
No one dies from love (coming soon)
Jack Abbot x avenger!reader x Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch
Summary: People called them the three musketeers of the Pitt, they were inseparable and had an absurd amount of bets on them. So it took everyone by surprise when she accepted a fellowship at Stark Industries and never looked back. Years later, she's right where it all started, forced to face unresolved business and not planning to stay.
Seven minutes in heaven (coming soon)
Jack Abbot x avenger!reader
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple charity event to get donations for the ER, so how he ended trapped in a room with a deadly beautiful woman flirting with him as if she hadn't been stabbed?
Sugar and honey (coming soon)
Samira Mohan x avenger!reader
Summary: A hero level treat brings even more chaos to the emergency room of the Pitt, something they have only seen on the news and never thought it could happen with them. And in the middle of the calamity stands an avenger in all her glory, helping to keep the ER safe and stealing Samira Mohan's heart during the process.
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There's no taglist, but you can follow the tags #starkenobi writing and #avenger!reader x the pitt.
