summary: soft domestic morning w your newly bf, robby!!!
trigger warning(s): pure fluff
word count: ~1,840
The first thing you registered was warmth.
The room was still painted in soft shadows, the sunrise barely beginning to seep through the seam between the two curtains covering the window, but warmth wrapped around you from every side. The heavy comforter tangled around your legs, the steady hum of the fan down the hall, and the most prominent of it all, the solid weight pressing against your back.
Robby.
His arm was draped across your waist, hand splayed lazily over your stomach like even in sleep he needed to know you were there. His chest rose and fell against your spine in slow, deep breaths. Warm enough that you could feel it through the thin material of your sleep shirt.
You smiled before you even fully opened your eyes.
The apartment was quiet. No pagers going off, no ringing phones, no hurried footsteps or exhausted voices echoing through hallways of the hospital. Just the muffled sound of rain tapping against the windows and the hiss of tires on wet pavement outside.
A real morning.
Those had become rare enough that you treasured them like they were stolen.
You shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, but the movement earned you a low groan behind you.
“Mmm,” Robby mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “Where’re you going?”
“Nowhere,” you whispered, laughing softly.
His grip tightened instantly.
“Good.”
You turned your head slightly, enough to glance over your shoulder at him. His hair was flattened on one side, dark tufts a complete mess, and there was still a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. You didn’t think anyone at the hospital would believe you if you told them the intimidating Dr. Robby who commanded trauma bays with terrifying efficiency looked like this in the morning.
Soft, sleepy, even clingy.
His eyes cracked open slowly.
“There you are,” he murmured.
“I was right here the whole time.”
“Still counts.”
You rolled onto your back carefully so you could face him properly. The blankets shifted around your legs, cold air brushing briefly over your skin before Robby immediately pulled you closer again, tucking you against his chest.
“There,” he sighed. “Better.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he said, eyes already drifting shut again, “you’re still obsessed with me.”
You snorted.
“Your confidence is dangerous.”
“It’s earned.”
You stared at him for a moment, unable to stop smiling.
The early morning light softened every sharp edge of him. At the hospital, Robby always carried tension in his shoulders like armor. Jaw tight, eyes alert, body constantly moving toward the next crisis before the current one had even ended.
Here, though?
Here he looked peaceful.
His fingers traced absentminded patterns against your back beneath your shirt, and you felt your entire body melt further into the mattress.
“You awake?” he asked quietly after a minute.
“Technically.”
“Mm. Same.”
Neither of you moved. Rain continued tapping softly against the windows.
You could smell coffee from the automatic timer in the kitchen that Robby had set last night, and somewhere outside a car alarm blared briefly before falling silent again.
The city was waking up slowly.
But not you two, not yet.
Robby buried his face against your neck with another sleepy groan. His scruff brushed your skin, rough enough to make you squirm.
“Robby—”
“You’re warm.”
“You’re crushing me.”
“That’s how you know it’s love.”
You laughed quietly, fingers sliding through the messy hair at the back of his head. The second you did, he practically melted.
Dr. Robby: terrifying in the ER.
Also Dr. Robby: reduced instantly to putty by scalp scratches.
His eyes closed fully again.
“You figured out my weakness,” he muttered.
“Took about two days.”
“Yeah.” He sounded almost offended. “Thought I hid it better.”
“You literally leaned into my hand the first time I touched your hair.”
“In my defense,” he said seriously, “it had been a terrible shift.”
“It’s always a terrible shift.”
“That’s fair.”
Silence settled comfortably again.
The kind that only existed when you knew someone completely. No pressure to fill the quiet. No need to perform. Just existing together beneath tangled blankets while rain painted the windows and morning stretched lazily around you.
Robby’s thumb brushed slowly against your hip.
“You know what today is?” he asked.
“Saturday?”
“Our first completely free weekend in…” He paused. “Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”
You blinked at him. “Oh my god.”
“I know.”
“No shifts. No meetings?”
“I checked twice.”
“No one’s on call?”
“Not unless the hospital literally catches fire.”
You grinned immediately. “That’s sexy.”
“You need higher standards.”
“Too late now.”
His laugh was low and sleepy, vibrating against your chest where your bodies pressed together.
Then he tilted his head up slightly, studying you in the dim morning light.
“What?” you asked softly.
“Nothin’.”
“Robby.”
He hesitated like he was embarrassed by whatever he’d been about to say, which immediately made you curious.
“You look happy,” he admitted finally.
Your chest tightened unexpectedly.
It wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t some grand declaration. But there was something achingly sincere in the way he said it, like it mattered deeply to him.
You touched his face gently. “I am happy.”
His expression softened so much it almost hurt to look at.
For a second neither of you spoke.
Then, quietly, “Good.”
The rain grew heavier outside. Robby shifted suddenly, reaching blindly toward the nightstand. You watched him frown at his phone without actually unlocking it.
“Don’t,” you warned immediately.
“I’m not checking emails.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“I was thinking about throwing my phone across the room.”
“That’s healthier.”
“Hm.”
He tossed it back onto the nightstand dramatically. “There. Technology is banned.”
“Bold statement from a doctor.”
“You’re right.” He settled back against the pillows. “Only medically necessary technology is allowed.”
“So… no phones?”
“No laptops.”
“No pagers?”
“That one’s non-negotiable.”
“Television?”
He considered carefully. “Depends.”
“On?”
“What we’re watching.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re impossible on movie nights.”
“I just think if a character makes a medically inaccurate decision, I should be allowed to pause and explain why they’d actually be dead.”
“You paused Grey’s Anatomy nineteen times.”
“And I was right every single one.”
“You gave a twenty-minute lecture about chest tubes.”
“You listened.”
“Because you looked excited.”
A smug smile appeared instantly. “Exactly.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. God, you loved him.
You loved the tired lines around his eyes and the way he always smelled faintly like coffee and antiseptic no matter how much soap he used. You loved how serious he became over tiny things and how his face softened every time he looked at you after a long shift.
You loved this version of him most of all, the version no one else got to see.
Robby shifted again until one of his legs tangled with yours beneath the blankets.
“So,” he murmured. “What’s the plan today?”
“Hm.” You pretended to think hard. “I was considering staying exactly here for another three hours.”
“That’s a strong option.”
“Maybe pancakes eventually.”
“Chocolate chip?”
“Obviously.”
He nodded solemnly. “Important follow-up question.”
“What?”
“Are we making pancakes or ordering pancakes?”
You gasped. “You’d betray homemade pancakes like that?”
“I’m trying to protect us from dishes.”
“You’re so brave.”
“I know.”
You laughed again, quieter this time. Robby stared at you with that same soft expression, eyes heavy with sleep and something warmer underneath it.
“What?” you asked again.
“You laugh more lately.”
Your heart squeezed painfully. He said things like that sometimes. Small observations delivered casually that still managed to hit you directly in the chest.
“You keeping score?” you teased gently.
“Maybe.”
“You’re getting sentimental in your old age.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
You are.”
“I’m sleep deprived and vulnerable.”
“You slept nine hours.”
“That’s basically a medical emergency for me.”
You reached up, smoothing a strand of hair away from his forehead “You deserve rest, you know.”
His eyes flickered toward yours immediately. There it was again. That subtle surprise he still carried whenever someone cared for him openly. Like some part of him still hadn’t adjusted to being loved gently. Even after all this time.
Robby leaned down slowly until his forehead rested against yours.
“You too,” he whispered.
The apartment stayed quiet around you. No rushing, just the sound of rain and breathing and the coffee machine clicking off in the kitchen.
Eventually, you felt his stomach growl. You burst into laughter instantly.
Robby groaned.“Don’t start.”
“That was so loud.”
“I’m starving.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
“You’re a forty-something-year-old trauma doctor.”
“Still growing emotionally.”
“That explains a lot.”
He pinched your side lightly in retaliation, earning another laugh from you before he finally pushed himself upright with visible reluctance.
The blanket slipped low across his waist, exposing sleep-rumpled T-shirt fabric and broad shoulders still marked faintly from where you’d clung to him half asleep during the night.
You watched him stretch with a quiet hum. And unfortunately for your dignity, he noticed.
“That look is dangerous,” he said immediately.
“What look?”
“The one where you’re pretending not to stare at me.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Sweetheart.”
You hid your face briefly in the pillow. His laugh filled the room. Then he leaned down suddenly, pressing a slow kiss against your temple.
“You’re cute,” he murmured.
“Don’t use that tone on me.”
“What tone?”
“That stupid soft one.”
“You love the soft one.”
You hated how correct he was.
Robby climbed out of bed finally, and the cold air rushed into the space he left behind immediately.
You groaned dramatically. “Robbyyyy.”
He glanced back while pulling sweatpants on. “You were just bullying me five seconds ago.”
“Come back. It’s cold.”
“You’ll survive.”
“You said you loved me.”
“I do.” He walked around to your side of the bed and tugged the blanket higher around your shoulders carefully. “That’s why I’m making coffee.”
You blinked up at him. “You’re really domestic.”
“Don’t spread that around at work. I have a reputation.”
“Too late. I’m telling everyone Dr. Robby tucks blankets around people.”
“That sounds fake enough no one’ll believe you.”
You smiled sleepily as he leaned down again, kissing you properly this time.
The kind of kiss that only existed on mornings like this, when neither of you had anywhere else to be, when the world outside could wait.
His hand slid gently along your jaw before he pulled back just enough to look at you. “Coffee,” he whispered.
“Pancakes,” you whispered back.
He smiled. “Deal.”
You watched him disappear toward the kitchen, listening to the soft shuffle of his footsteps down the hall.
A moment later, you heard cabinets opening.
Then:
“Bad news.”
“What?”
“We’re out of chocolate chips.”
You sat upright immediately. “That is bad news.”
“I know. I’m grieving.”
“We can’t have regular pancakes.”
“I think legally we can.”
“No.”
Robby laughed loudly from the kitchen.
And as rain continued falling softly outside and the apartment filled with the smell of coffee and the sound of the man you loved moving around your shared apartment, you realized there was nowhere else on earth you’d rather be.
Ohh the attention to detail of Robby looking absolutely Dead Inside in his attending ID pic because it would have been taken when he was promoted immediately after Adamson’s death
I don’t know how to explain it, but in my mind, The Pitt, The Bear and Abbott Elementary exist in the same universe and they should have a major crossover episode (or someone please write a fic please please)
A/N: Should I start using banners in my fics? Thought I’d test it out to see if you guys like it. If not I can change back to the old format. I will still post a gif or pic with each fic below the cut.
Husband!Shen who refuses to let either of you go to bed mad at each other. When you get to sleep at the same time of course.
Husband!Shen who always hands you an iced coffee every morning. If he’s just getting home from shift as you’re waking up. He has coffee ready for you.
Husband!Shen who will playfully scold you if you stay up until he’s home from Night shift to go to sleep. He secretly loves it though, because he loves nothing more than holding you as you go to sleep.
Husband!Shen who loves when you show up at the hospital in the middle of the night shift with another iced coffee in hand for him. And food because sometimes he forgets to eat.
Husband!Shen who loves showing you off, and isn’t afraid of PDA. He will kiss you even in front of his colleagues.
Husband!Shen who makes love to you.
Husband!Shen who loves marking you. He is possessive but in the sweetest way possible.
Husband!Shen who immediately dotes on you if you fall sick. Checking you over, and over again.
Husband!Shen who can be clingy. He loves holding you close and kissing you. No matter where you are together.
Husband!Shen who loves cooking for you whenever he gets a chance.
Husband!Shen who spoils you on your birthday and on your anniversary’s. He loves to see you happy.
Husband!Shen who is completely supportive of you in whatever you do in your life.
Husband!Shen who desperately wants children with you. He wants at least five.
Husband!Shen who is amazing at domestic tasks like fixing a broken pipe, or making sure the house is clean and tidy if for some reason you couldn’t keep on top of it. Or any other little things that need fixing around the house he will ensure to have it done.
Husband!Shen who when you have sex, is constantly praising you.
part two of I can make the bad boys good for a weekend but can be read as a standalone!
summary: the day after your little... moment in the closet with Brendon.
trigger warning(s): none!
word count: ~1,640
two uses of Y/N..... I'm sorry....
also the second half of this is similar to something I wrote in the past but the trope is just too good for me to resist ugh
ALSO another supply closet moment again bc that's their thing now!!!!
The next morning, Brendon Park made one very simple promise to himself.
Act normal.
No staring, no blushing, no dropping things because you smiled at him, no overthinking.
It lasted exactly three minutes.
“You look nice today.”
He looked up from the computer.
You stood beside him, already halfway through chart review, hair pulled back a little differently than usual.
His brain immediately short-circuited.
“...Thanks.”
“You did something different with your hair?”
“...Yeah.”
“It suits you.”
You smiled like it wasn’t a life-altering compliment and wandered off toward Trauma Three.
Park watched you leave.
Then internally smacked his forehead against the desk.
Act normal.
“That lasted a while.”
Park groaned before even turning around.
Dana leaned against the nurses’ station, coffee in hand and the smuggest grin he’d ever seen.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been staring at her for twelve seconds.”
“I have not.”
Mel walked past, glanced at Park, then at you disappearing around the corner.
“...Thirteen.”
“I hate both of you.”
“You love one of us.”
“Definitely not.”
Dana smirked.
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
—
By lunch, the entire ER had apparently decided Park’s feelings were public knowledge.
He’d gone to grab a yogurt from the staff fridge.
When he grabbed it, there was a sticky note on the bottom.
Dr. Park <3 Dr. Y/N
He sighed.
Dana. Definitely Dana.
He crumpled it up.
Another sticky note underneath.
Just ask her out already.
“...Seriously?”
“You found the second one?”
Dana’s voice came from behind him.
Park slowly turned.
She looked entirely too pleased with herself.
“There were multiple?”
“There were four.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I work with children.”
“No.”
Dana patted his shoulder.
“You work with adults who never emotionally matured.”
—
The teasing only got worse.
A trauma came in with a tibial fracture.
Someone yelled:
“Get ortho!”
Before another nurse shouted back:
“Y/N’s already coming!”
Park looked up instinctively.
You hurried through the ambulance bay in navy scrubs, gloves already halfway-pulled on.
Hair slightly messy.
Focused.
Confident.
Beautiful.
You immediately knelt beside the patient.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Y/N. You’re gonna hate me for about thirty seconds, then you’re going to feel a whole lot better.”
The teenager on the gurney sniffled.
“...Promise?”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
You glanced toward Park.
“Park?”
His heart skipped.
“Can you help me stabilize?”
“Yeah.”
You worked together effortlessly. Years of training showed in every movement you made. Your hands were gentle, precise, quick.
Brendon handed you supplies before you even asked.
You anticipated what he needed next just as easily.
By the time the splint was secured, the patient looked significantly calmer.
“You did great.”
You squeezed the kid’s shoulder.
“I’m proud of you.”
After the patient was wheeled upstairs, Park found himself smiling.
Again.
He hadn’t even realized it.
Robby had.
“You’ve got it bad.”
Park jumped.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Robby folded his arms.
“You smile more around her.”
“I smile.”
“You tolerate existence.”
“...”
“You smile around her.”
Park sighed.
“...Is it obvious?”
Robby laughed.
“To everyone except you apparently.”
—
A week later, in the hospital cafeteria Park was sitting alone.
Mostly because it was quiet. Also because he needed five uninterrupted minutes to eat.
He had managed exactly one bite of his sandwich when someone slid into the chair across from him.
You.
“You mind?”
“It’s a free country.”
“You always eat alone?”
“...Usually.”
You frowned.
“That’s sad.”
“It isn’t sad.”
“It’s a little sad.”
He laughed.
A quiet laugh.
“I like quiet.”
“I like people.”
“I noticed.”
You stole one of his fries.
He blinked.
“...Did you just—”
“Mhm.”
“My fry?”
“Our fry.”
“There is no ‘our fry.’”
You popped it into your mouth.
“There is now.”
He laughed harder than he’d laughed all week.
“You know...”
You rested your chin on your hand.
“I like making you laugh.”
His smile softened.
“I noticed.”
“You don’t do it enough.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
There was something different about the way you were looking at him today.
Less teasing.
More...
Intentional.
“You know what I thought when I first met you?”
Park shook his head.
“I thought...”
You smiled to yourself.
“...there is absolutely no way this guy realizes how kind he truly is.”
His cheeks warmed.
“I’m just doing my job.”
“No.”
You shook your head.
“You stay with scared patients longer than you have to, always explain procedures, remember everyone’s names, make sure the residents eat, check on nurses after rough cases. You just don’t do it loudly.”
Park looked down at his sandwich.
No one had ever listed those things before.
“I notice.”
Your voice had gone softer.
“And I think it’s my favorite thing about you.”
The next few shifts blurred together.
Coffee appeared beside Park before difficult cases.
Sometimes from you.
Sometimes from Dana with “FROM YOUR GIRLFRIEND” scribbled on the cup despite it absolutely not being true.
Yet, you started finding excuses to work together.
“Park? Can you look at this ECG?”
“Park? Can you help with this reduction?”
“Park? Want to split fries?”
By now he’d accepted the fries were communal property.
—
Then came the storm.
A power outage across half the city.
The ER exploded.
Ambulances.
Falls and car accidents.
Generators humming and everyone moving twice as fast.
For six straight hours Park barely saw you.
Only glimpses across hallways.
Passing stretchers.
Every single time, you looked exhausted.
Yet every patient still got the same gentle smile.
Near midnight things finally slowed.
Park walked into the empty supply room looking for saline.
Instead, he found you.
Sitting on an overturned crate.
Head tilted back against the wall.
Eyes closed.
“You okay?”
Your eyes opened.
“Tired.”
“I can tell.”
“I forgot to eat.”
He frowned.
“Again?”
You smiled sheepishly.
“...Again.”
Without a word, Park disappeared.
Thirty seconds later he returned carrying two peanut butter granola bars and a Gatorade.
“I raided the stash.”
You looked at the food.
Then at him.
“You remembered my favorite.”
“...Yeah.”
“You remembered.”
“You always pick the peanut butter ones.”
For a second you just stared at him.
Then your expression softened into something impossibly fond.
“You notice a lot.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I guess.”
“You know...”
You stood.
Stepped closer.
“So do I.”
There were only a few inches between you now.
Close enough that he could see the tiny freckles near your nose, enough to notice you looked nervous.
Wait.
Nervous?
“You’ve been trying to ask me out for like...”
You pretended to calculate.
“...Three months?”
Park nearly inhaled his own tongue.
“I—”
“And every single time you chicken out.”
“I didn’t—”
“You absolutely did.”
“...Maybe.”
You laughed.
“I think it’s cute.”
“You keep calling me cute.”
“Because you are.”
He covered his face.
“This is deeply unfair.”
“It is a little.”
You gently tugged one of his wrists away from his face.
“So...”
“So?”
“I figured someone had to do it.”
Park frowned in confusion.
Then you took a breath.
“Brendon.”
His name sounded different coming from you.
Warm.
Gentle.
Hopeful.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Silence.
Complete silence.
His brain completely shut down.
You blinked.
“...Brendon?”
“...”
“Oh my God.”
You laughed.
“Did I break you?”
“I think...”
He finally managed.
“...I think you did.”
You smiled.
“I’ll wait.”
He looked at you for another long second.
Then laughed.
A real laugh.
The kind that made his shoulders shake.
“You asked me.”
“I did.”
“I was supposed to ask you.”
“You were taking forever.”
“I was working up to it.”
“It had been months.”
“I had a plan.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“...No.”
“You want to know my plan?”
“What?”
“I was going to wait until you asked.”
“You would’ve been waiting forever.”
“Exactly why I stepped in.”
He shook his head, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
“You know...”
He reached for your hand almost absentmindedly.
His fingers brushed yours.
You immediately intertwined them.
“So...”
You squeezed his hand.
“Is that a yes?”
Park looked down at your joined hands.
Then back up at you.
“I’d love to have dinner with you.”
Your smile lit up the room.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I already made a reservation.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“You were confident.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
He groaned.
“I was that obvious?”
“You looked at me like I personally invented coffee.”
“I...did?”
“Mhm.”
You leaned in just enough for your shoulder to bump his.
“I liked it.”
Before he could answer, the supply room door swung open.
Dana froze.
Mel looked over her shoulder.
Both immediately spotted your joined hands.
There was a beat of absolute silence.
Then:
“I knew it!” Mel shouted.
Dana threw both fists into the air.
“Pay up everybody!”
From somewhere down the hallway Robby called, “Who won?”
Dana yelled back without taking her eyes off the two of you.
“I did!”
Park buried his face in his free hand.
“I can never show my face here again.”
You laughed so hard you had to lean against him.
“Oh, yes, you can.”
“No.”
“Mhm.”
“They’re never going to let this go.”
“Definitely not.”
Dana pointed triumphantly.
“You owe me twenty bucks, Robby!”
A distant groan echoed down the hallway.
Park sighed dramatically.
“I’ve dated you for approximately twelve seconds.”
You grinned.
“And?”
“My coworkers are already insufferable.”
You reached up and straightened the collar of his scrub top.
“Yeah.”
Then, without a hint of embarrassment, you stood on your toes and pressed a quick, feather-light kiss to his cheek.
“I think you’ll survive.”
Park’s face immediately turned bright red.
You simply smiled, laced your fingers through his again, and tugged him toward the hallway.
“C’mon.”
He let himself be led away, unable to stop smiling.
For the first time in a long time, the chaos of the ED faded into the background.
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