Cling To You - Dr. Robby x Female Reader
Request - Hello lovely! Could you do one where the reader is just needy/clingy with Robby? In a cute way? As a needy gal myself, Robby brings it out in me 🙈🫶
who isn’t clingy for Robby? 🫶
Masterlist
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The emergency department was loud. Not trauma-level loud. Just… emergency department loud. Phones ringing. Monitors chirping. Residents asking questions. Nurses trying to hunt down physicians who had mysteriously vanished the second someone needed a signature. In other words…
Tuesday.
You’d had the day off. Robby hadn’t. Which meant you had exactly one mission after finishing a late lunch with Dana. Annoy your boyfriend.
“I don’t know why you encourage this,” Dana muttered as the two of you stepped through the ambulance entrance.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She snorted.
“Sure.”
You spotted him almost immediately. Robby stood at the central nurses’ station, glasses perched low on his nose as he reviewed lab work. His white coat was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms, stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. There was the familiar crease between his eyebrows that only appeared when he was charting or contemplating homicide. Probably charting. Hopefully. A resident was rambling through a patient presentation while Robby stared at the computer screen.
“Mhm.”
Another pause.
“Mhm.”
The resident kept talking.
“Mhm.”
Dana leaned toward you.
“I don’t think he’s heard a damn word.”
“He hasn’t.”
“You gonna fix that?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Without another word, you wandered over. You didn’t interrupt. Didn’t announce yourself. You simply slid into the narrow space beside him and rested your chin on his shoulder. His pen stopped moving.
“…Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You stalking me?”
“Maybe.”
The resident glanced between the two of you, suddenly unsure whether to continue presenting.Robby sighed.
“Finish, Whitaker.”
Dennis blinked.
“…Uh…”
You smiled politely.
“Sorry. Pretend I’m furniture.”
The poor kid looked even more confused. Robby finally turned his head just enough to glance at you.
“You’ve been here exactly seven seconds.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re already attached to me.”
“Mhm.”
“…Why?”
You shrugged.
“I missed you.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“That was…” You pretended to calculate. “Like… six whole hours ago.”
He made a face.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You like me.”
“I tolerate you.”
“You love me.”
“I’ve never admitted that.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Barely. But you caught it. Victory. Whitaker awkwardly cleared his throat.
“…Should I…”
Robby looked back at him.
“Continue.”
The poor guy launched back into his presentation while you remained exactly where you were, chin resting comfortably against Robby’s shoulder. You didn’t say another word. You were simply… there. Halfway through discussing antibiotics, Robby’s free hand absentmindedly found yours.
He didn’t even seem to realize he’d done it. His fingers laced through yours automatically while his attention remained on the patient in front of him. Dana walked by just in time to see it. She barked out a laugh.
“You two are fucking ridiculous.”
Neither of you looked up.
******
By four o’clock, the emergency department had settled into one of those rare lulls that everyone knew wouldn’t last. Robby finally escaped to the physician workroom with a cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour earlier. You followed. Of course you did. He hadn’t even sat down before you appeared in the doorway.
“You again?”
You smiled innocently.
“What?”
“Were you waiting outside?”
“…Maybe.”
He dropped into the chair with a groan.
“My God.”
“What?”
“I have a stalker.”
“You have a girlfriend.”
“Same thing.”
You wandered behind him while he logged into the computer. Then, without warning…You wrapped both arms around his shoulders from behind. Not tightly. Just enough that your forearms rested across his chest while your cheek found the top of his head.
He froze for exactly one second. Then continued typing.
“…Comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
“You planning on staying there?”
“Mhm.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know I have to work.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I can hug you while you work.”
He sighed dramatically.
“Jesus Christ.”
But he leaned back ever so slightly into your embrace.
“You know…” You smiled against his hair.
“What?”
“You complain an awful lot for someone who hasn’t told me to let go.”
“I’ve accepted my fate.”
“Which is?”
“I’m apparently dating a koala.”
You gasped.
“A koala?”
“Mhm.”
“I was hoping for something majestic.”
“You climbed onto me twenty minutes ago.”
“I leaned.”
“You’ve been touching me for the better part of an hour.”
“I like touching you.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It makes my brain happy.”
That answer made him stop typing. He turned his head enough to look up at you. Your expression was completely sincere. No teasing. No joking. Just… honesty. He reached up and gently rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.
“You had a rough week?”
You nodded once.
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I just…” You smiled sheepishly. “I’ve missed my person.”
Something softened in his eyes immediately. Without another word, he reached behind himself, caught your wrist gently, and tugged. You stumbled around the chair with a surprised laugh.
“What are you—”
Before you finished the sentence, he pulled you sideways until you landed across his lap.
“You weigh approximately six pounds.”
“I do not.”
“Close enough.”
You laughed as your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.
“There.” He rested his chin against the top of your head. “Better?”
“So much.”
“Mhm.”
“You gonna let me finish charting?”
“Probably not.”
“I figured.”
The workroom door opened. Frank Langdon walked in carrying two charts. He stopped dead in his tracks. Looked at the two of you. Looked at the clock. Then looked back.
“…Are you kidding me?”
Neither of you moved. Robby didn’t even lift his head.
“No.”
Frank pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You know there are chairs.”
“There are.”
“So why is she in your lap?”
Robby answered without missing a beat.
“Because she wanted to be.”
Frank stared at him.
“…That’s your explanation?”
“Mhm.”
“You realize both of you are attendings.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re acting like you’re seventeen.”
“Mhm.”
Frank looked toward you for help. You simply smiled.
“I like him.”
Frank threw one hand into the air.
“I can see that.”
He turned to leave, muttering under his breath.
“I swear to God this hospital is becoming one giant HR complaint.”
The door closed behind him. You started giggling. Robby finally laughed too, the deep, quiet laugh that almost never escaped him at work.
“You happy now?”
You nodded against his shoulder.
“Mhm.”
He kissed the top of your head.
“Good.”
“You know…”
“What?”
“I think you’re secretly clingy too.”
He scoffed.
“Absolutely not.”
“No?”
“No.”
“So if I got up right now…”
“I’d finish my chart.”
You slowly lifted yourself an inch off his lap. His hand immediately settled against the small of your back. Holding you there. You raised an eyebrow.
“…Really?”
He looked down at where his hand had landed. There was a long pause. Then he sighed.
“…Don’t.”
A grin spread across your face.
“I knew it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He rolled his eyes so dramatically it should’ve hurt.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet…” You settled right back against him, smiling as he automatically tightened his arm around your waist. “…Here I still am.”
He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah… yeah, you are.”
And despite all his grumbling, not once—not for a single second—did he actually let you go.
******
If there was one thing everyone at PTMC had learned over the years, it was that Dr. Michael Robinavitch looked perpetually irritated. Even when he was perfectly happy. His neutral expression made medical students question their career choices. His focused expression made residents apologize for things they hadn’t even done. And his genuinely annoyed expression…Well. People tended to scatter.
It made your favorite hobby all the more entertaining. Because underneath all that perpetual grumpiness…He was unbelievably soft. Just not for anyone else.
“You know,” Dana said one afternoon as she watched you standing at the coffee machine, “you’re about to become public enemy number one.”
You glanced over your shoulder.
“Why?”
She nodded toward the trauma bay.
“Because your boyfriend has been in back-to-back traumas for four hours.”
“So?”
“So he’s in one of those moods.”
You peeked through the glass doors. Sure enough…There he was. Hair a mess from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it. Glasses shoved into the pocket of his scrub top. Jaw clenched. He was listening to a surgical consult with all the enthusiasm of someone getting a root canal without anesthesia.
“Oh…”
You smiled.
“He needs me.”
Dana barked out a laugh.
“No, ma’am. He needs a nap.”
“Those are basically the same thing.”
“They are absolutely not.”
You grabbed your coffee anyway.
“I’m going in.”
Dana leaned back against the counter.
“I’ll give you twenty bucks if you make him smile.”
“You owe me money.”
“We’ll see.”
The trauma consult finally ended. Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Anything else?”
The surgical resident wisely shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
The resident disappeared like he’d escaped prison. Robby exhaled slowly.
“Christ…”
His back hurt. His head hurt. Someone had somehow spilled coffee on one of his favorite pens. He’d been yelled at by a patient’s family because the CT scanner wasn’t magically instantaneous. He was running forty-five minutes behind on charting. He wanted approximately ten minutes where no one spoke to him.
“Hi.”
He looked up. There you were. Holding two coffees. Smiling like you hadn’t a single stressful thought in your head. His shoulders relaxed before he could stop them.
“…Hello.”
“I brought you coffee.”
“I already had coffee.”
You looked at the cold cup sitting beside the computer.
“That?”
“Mhm.”
“That’s iced coffee now.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“I figured.”
You slid the fresh cup toward him. He accepted it without argument.
“Thanks.”
“You look grumpy.”
“I am grumpy.”
“I know.”
“You enjoying this?”
“A little.”
“You should probably seek therapy.”
“I already have you.”
He looked at you over the rim of the cup.
“…That was smooth.”
“I know.”
You leaned against the counter beside him. Neither of you spoke for a minute. You simply stood shoulder to shoulder while he drank his coffee. To everyone else…It looked uneventful. To you? It was your favorite kind of intimacy. Just existing beside him. Eventually he sighed.
“I’ve got another twelve charts.”
“I know.”
“Three admissions.”
“Mhm.”
“And Dana keeps threatening to assign me residents.”
You gasped dramatically.
“The horror.”
“I’d rather fight a bear.”
“I’ve met some of your residents.”
“They’re exhausting.”
“So are you.”
“They’re exhausting differently.”
You laughed.
“I’ll give you that.”
The overhead speaker interrupted.
“Dr. Robinavitch to Room Eight.”
He closed his eyes.
“…Of course.”
He made no move to leave. You nudged his shoulder.
“Go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know.”
“You come with me.”
It wasn’t even phrased like a question. You smiled.
“Bossing me around now?”
“I’m inviting you.”
“That sounded suspiciously like an order.”
“It was an invitation with authority.”
You laughed.
“Okay, Chief.”
He started toward Room Eight. You fell into step beside him. Naturally. Halfway there, without thinking, your hand slipped around his forearm. Not because you needed help walking. Not because you were trying to make a statement. You just…Liked holding onto him. He glanced down.
“You know…”
“What?”
“We’re walking twenty feet.”
“I know.”
“I don’t disappear if you let go.”
“I know.”
“So why are you hanging onto my arm?”
You looked up at him like the answer was obvious.
“Because it’s attached to you.”
He stared at you for a beat.
“…That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
You grinned.
“But you smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I exhaled.”
“You smiled with your lungs?”
“Exactly.”
“Medical miracle.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You love me.”
“I’ve made questionable decisions.”
“You proposed.”
“That was one of them.”
You laughed so loudly that a passing nurse looked over.
“You are such an asshole.”
“And yet…” He slowed just enough for you to catch back up after nearly laughing yourself breathless. “…You’re still holding onto me.”
The patient in Room Eight turned out to have the flu. Nothing dramatic. Just a miserable forty-year-old man convinced he was on death’s doorstep. By the time the exam was finished, you’d somehow ended up perched on the edge of the counter while Robby finished documenting. The patient watched the two of you with narrowed eyes.
“You married?”
You answered first.
“Not yet.”
“Engaged?”
“Mhm.”
The man looked between you.
“I can tell.”
Robby didn’t look up from the computer.
“How?”
The patient shrugged.
“My wife follows me around the house like that.”
You blinked.
“…Like what?”
He pointed at you.
“You keep finding reasons to touch him.”
You looked down. Your hand was resting lightly against the middle of Robby’s back. You hadn’t even realized.
“Oh.”
The patient chuckled.
“My Linda does that.”
You smiled.
“Really?”
“Thirty-seven years.”
He grinned weakly.
“If she’s in the room…” He shrugged. “…She’s touching me somehow.”
Silence settled for a second. Then the man looked directly at Robby.
“Enjoy it.”
Robby paused his typing. The patient continued quietly.
“One day you’ll walk into a room…and nobody’ll be there reaching for you.”
The room became unexpectedly still. The humor dissolved. You watched Robby’s expression change almost imperceptibly. Something thoughtful flickered behind his eyes. He finished the discharge instructions before helping the patient up.
“Take the antiviral.”
“I will.”
“Drink water.”
“My wife’ll make me.”
“Good.”
The patient smiled.
“You’ve got a good one, Doc.”
Robby glanced toward you.
“…Yeah.” His answer came softly. “I know.”
Later that evening, the department finally settled down enough that the two of you found yourselves walking toward the parking garage together. The heat had finally given way to a warm summer breeze. You instinctively slipped your hand into his. He didn’t say anything. Just intertwined his fingers with yours. After a minute, you looked over.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Mhm.”
“You okay?”
He nodded once.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“It usually is.”
Another few steps passed. Then, completely out of nowhere, he stopped walking. You turned toward him.
“What?”
Instead of answering…He reached out. Straightened the collar of your scrub. Brushed an imaginary speck of dust from your shoulder. Then rested his hand gently against the side of your face for just a second. You smiled.
“What was that for?”
He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed.
“Nothing.”
“Robby.”
His eyes met yours.
“I guess…” He cleared his throat. “…I never really thought about why you do it.”
“Do what?”
“The touching.”
You tilted your head.
“It makes me feel close to you.”
“I know.”
“And I like knowing you’re there.”
He looked down at your joined hands.
“I think…” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “…maybe I like knowing you’re there too.”
Your entire face softened.
“Oh?”
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze.
“Don’t make a thing out of it.”
“So you admit it?”
“I admitted nothing.”
“You literally just—”
“I said I tolerate your clinginess.”
“You said you liked it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
You stepped closer, slipping both arms around his waist.
“Liar.”
He sighed with theatrical annoyance.
“Jesus…”
But both of his arms wrapped around you immediately, pulling you snug against his chest.
“You know what’s funny?” you murmured.
“What?”
“You’ve been hugging me this whole conversation.”
He looked down.
“…Huh.”
“You gonna let go?”
He thought about it. Then tightened his embrace instead.
“…No.”
You smiled into the fabric of his scrub top.
“I knew it.”
He kissed the top of your head with a grumble that lacked even the slightest hint of annoyance.
“Don’t get used to winning.”
You laughed.
“Too late.”
And with one arm still draped securely around your shoulders, the two of you walked the rest of the way to the parking garage—looking, as Dana would later describe it, “like two people who’d forgotten personal space existed.” Neither of you minded one bit.
******
The shift had been absolute bullshit from the moment you’d walked through the doors. Not catastrophic. Not traumatic. Just… one of those days where every patient seemed angry before you even introduced yourself.
The woman in Room Nine insisted you were withholding pain medication because you “looked too young to be a real doctor.” A man with a sprained ankle screamed at one of the nurses because his discharge paperwork was taking “too fucking long.” Someone threw up in the hallway. Someone else somehow managed to clog the staff bathroom. And just before lunch, one of your pediatric patients had looked at you with huge watery eyes and asked if his mommy was going to die.
She wasn’t. But explaining that to a terrified seven-year-old had taken a bigger piece out of you than you wanted to admit. By six o’clock, your social battery had officially flatlined. You found Robby in the physician workroom. He was exactly where you expected him to be.
Feet propped on the desk. Reading through imaging reports. Coffee sitting forgotten beside the keyboard. Glasses sliding halfway down his nose. He looked up as you walked in. One glance at your face. That was all it took.
“…Bad day?”
You nodded once.
“Mhm.”
“Anything explode?”
“Not literally.”
“That’s usually a positive.”
“Mhm.”
He watched you for another second.
“You okay?”
Instead of answering…You walked straight over to him. He frowned.
“What’re you—”
You simply climbed into his lap. Not gracefully. One knee on either side of his hips, arms immediately wrapping around his neck before you buried your face against the side of his throat. He let out an amused grunt as the chair rolled back an inch.
“…Jesus Christ.”
No answer. Only your forehead pressing more firmly into the warm skin beneath his jaw. He rested one hand automatically against your lower back to steady you.
“…baby.”
“Mhm.”
“You realize we’re at work.”
“Mhm.”
“You are currently sitting on the chief attending of emergency medicine.”
“Mhm.”
“Very professional.”
“Mhm.”
He sighed dramatically.
“I date a raccoon.”
“You date a koala.”
“I’ve upgraded you.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.”
“I’m sad.”
“I know.”
“I don’t wanna doctor anymore today.”
“I know.”
“You know a lot.”
“I’ve been listening.”
His fingers began slowly rubbing circles across the small of your back. The movement was absentminded. Instinctive. Like breathing. Neither of you spoke for nearly a minute. You just stayed there.
His heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. The smell of coffee and laundry detergent lingering on his scrub top. One of his hands resting protectively against your waist while the other continued lazily scratching up and down your spine. It was enough to make your shoulders finally unclench.
“…Better?” he asked quietly.
“A little.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I just wanted you.”
His heart squeezed. “…Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“You got me.”
Another long silence. You breathed him in.
“I love you.”
The words were muffled by his neck. He smiled to himself.
“I had a feeling.”
“No…” You lifted your head just enough to look at him. “I mean…”
Your eyes looked exhausted.
“I don’t need advice.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need someone to fix it.”
“I know.”
“I just needed my favorite person.”
Something softened so completely in his expression it almost didn’t look like Robby anymore. He reached up and brushed his thumb beneath one of your eyes.
“I’m right here.”
“I know.”
The workroom door swung open. Dana walked in carrying three patient charts. She froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Neither of you moved. She stared.
“You two have become insufferable.”
You smiled over your shoulder.
“Hi, Dana.”
“What exactly is happening?”
You answered honestly.
“I’m emotionally regulating.”
Dana blinked.
“…By sitting on your fiancé?”
“Mhm.”
She looked at Robby.
“And you’re allowing this?”
He looked genuinely confused.
“What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know. Tell her no.”
He looked down at you. You had already curled even closer against him. He looked back at Dana.
“…I physically can’t.”
Dana laughed so hard she nearly dropped the charts.
“Oh my God. You are so whipped.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve become a human recliner.”
“I’ve accepted it.”
She shook her head.
“I’m telling Langdon.”
“Go ahead.”
“He’ll make fun of you.”
“He already does.”
Almost as if summoned…Frank walked through the doorway. He stopped. Looked at the two of you. Closed his eyes.
“No.”
Dana immediately pointed.
“I didn’t do this.”
Frank opened one eye.
“Robinavitch.”
“Mhm.”
“Why is your fiancée in your lap?”
Robby answered without hesitation.
“She had a hard day.”
Frank waited.
“…And?”
“And she wanted a hug.”
“So you sat her down?”
“She sat herself down.”
Frank looked at you.
“Is this accurate?”
You nodded.
“I climbed.”
Frank sighed toward the ceiling.
“I spent twelve years helping people.”
Neither of you responded.
“I’ve worked mass casualty incidents.”
Still nothing.
“I once intubated someone in the back of a moving ambulance.”
Robby nodded.
“I remember.”
“And somehow…” Frank gestured toward the two of you. “…this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen.”
You couldn’t help laughing.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“…No.”
“I didn’t think so.” He looked back at Robby. “You know…”
“What?”
“You could put her down.”
Robby frowned.
“…She’s not a backpack.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked down at you again. You had somehow managed to tuck your face back into his neck without anyone noticing. One of your hands lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your breathing had slowed. Your entire body had gone wonderfully, comfortably limp. He smiled. Just a tiny one. Barely there. Then he looked back at Frank.
“I could.”
Frank waited. Robby shrugged.
“…Don’t really want to.”
The room went completely silent. Dana’s jaw dropped. Frank stared. You looked up slowly.
“…Wait.”
Your eyebrows shot toward your hairline.
“What?”
Robby’s eyes widened slightly.
“…Shit.”
Dana pointed dramatically.
“He admitted it!”
Frank immediately chimed in.
“I heard it too.”
“I…” Robby rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s not…”
Dana was already halfway out the door.
“I’m getting the residents.”
“No!”
Frank followed her.
“This deserves witnesses.”
“For the love of God…”
Within thirty seconds, half a dozen residents were suddenly finding reasons to walk through the physician workroom. Dana stood in the doorway grinning like she’d won the lottery.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” She announced far louder than necessary. “…Dr. Robinavitch has officially admitted he likes affection.”
A chorus of dramatic gasps filled the room. One resident whispered, “Holy shit.” Another muttered, “I thought he reproduced through mitosis.” Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I hate every single one of you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Dana said sweetly.
“I absolutely do.”
You finally slid off his lap, only to immediately stand beside him and lace your fingers through his. He looked down. Then, without thinking, Squeezed your hand. Dana noticed. Of course she noticed. She pointed again.
“There!”
“What?”
“The hand!”
“What hand?”
“You’re holding her hand!”
Robby looked down. Sure enough…He was. Completely unconsciously. He closed his eyes.
“…Goddammit.”
The room erupted into laughter. You looked up at him with the biggest, sappiest smile he’d ever seen.
“So…”
“What.”
“I think…”
He already knew.
“…don’t.”
“…you might be just as clingy as me.”
He looked at the ceiling as though asking for divine intervention.
“I am never beating these allegations.”
You leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek.
“Nope.”
He let out one long, dramatically suffering sigh. Then, with every resident watching…He slipped his arm around your waist anyway. Because apparently the allegations were true.
******
By the time the two of you got home that evening, the laughter from the emergency department had followed you all the way to the parking garage. Dana had texted.
Congratulations on coming out as affectionate.
Robby had immediately responded.
Go to hell.
Two seconds later…
❤️
He’d locked his phone.
“I hate her.”
You laughed from the passenger seat.
“No, you don’t.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You invited her to our barbecue last weekend.”
“That was a lapse in judgment.”
“You made her a burger.”
“I was being polite.”
“You gave her the last brownie.”
He shot you a look.
“I was manipulated.”
“You were.”
“I know.”
You reached over the center console and rested your hand on his forearm. He didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t comment. He simply turned his arm over so your fingers naturally slipped into his palm. Like always.
The house greeted you with the familiar sounds of home. The hum of the refrigerator. The air conditioner kicking on. Your golden retriever trotting enthusiastically toward the front door, tail wagging so hard her entire back end swayed with it.
“There she is,” you cooed, dropping to your knees.
The dog immediately shoved her head beneath your chin, demanding attention. Robby hung both of your jackets by the door before scratching behind the dog’s ears.
“You’ve created a monster.”
You looked up.
“Which one?”
He looked between you and the dog.
“Exactly.”
You laughed.
“She’s just affectionate.”
“So are you.”
“I’ve never knocked you over trying to say hello.”
“You’ve come close.”
“I absolutely have not.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“You literally launched yourself into my lap today.”
“…That was different.”
“How?”
“I was emotionally delicate.”
“You looked more like a flying squirrel.”
You gasped dramatically.
“First I’m a koala.”
“Mhm.”
“Then a raccoon.”
“Mhm.”
“Now a flying squirrel?”
“I’m workshopping.”
“You suck.”
“I’ve been told.”
Dinner ended up being takeout because neither of you felt like cooking. Chinese food. Sweatpants. Hair pulled back. The television playing some documentary neither of you were actually watching. Robby stretched out across one end of the couch with a tired groan.
“My feet hurt.”
“You’ve been standing for fourteen hours.”
“My back hurts.”
“You’re getting old.”
He looked over.
“I’m forty-nine.”
“Ancient.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“You’ll forget by tomorrow, Grandpa.”
He rolled his eyes.
“You are the worst.”
You smiled sweetly.
“I know.”
He picked up the remote. The movie had barely started before you quietly slid across the couch. One cushion. Then another. Until your thigh rested against his. He didn’t look away from the television.
“…Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You’ve migrated.”
“It’s a big couch.”
“It was.”
“It still is.”
“You’ve somehow occupied my half.”
“I don’t think that’s physically possible.”
“It is when you’re determined.”
You smiled to yourself. You waited another thirty seconds. Then you gently tucked your feet beneath one of his legs. His eyes flickered toward you.
“…baby.”
“What?”
“Are you trying to merge into me?”
“No.”
Another minute passed. Then your head slowly found his shoulder.
“Mhm.”
“What?”
“The final form.”
You laughed quietly.
“I like your shoulder.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“It smells like you.”
“I’ve definitely noticed.”
He sounded completely deadpan. You tilted your head enough to look up at him.
“Are you actually annoyed?”
He looked down at you. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder. Your eyes looked sleepy. Your hair was a mess from taking it out of its ponytail. You looked…Happy. Safe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you look so completely at ease.
“No.”
His answer was quiet.
“I’m not.”
You smiled.
“Good.”
“You know…”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“I know.”
“You really are attached to me a lot.”
“Mhm.”
“You follow me around the house.”
“Mhm.”
“You sit beside me when I read.”
“Mhm.”
“You steal ninety percent of my hoodies.”
“They smell like you.”
“You’ve said that.”
“I mean it.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“I know.”
Silence settled between you again. The documentary continued playing to absolutely no audience. The dog sighed dramatically from her bed across the room. Outside, the wind rattled softly against the windows. Eventually, Robby spoke again.
“I have a question.”
You hummed.
“When did this start?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“The…” He motioned vaguely toward the two of you. “…constant need to be touching me.”
You were quiet for a long moment. Long enough that he thought maybe you weren’t going to answer. Then you reached down and absentmindedly traced circles across the back of his hand.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
You sighed softly.
“I think…” You searched for the right words. “…I think it’s because you’re the only place my brain ever gets quiet.”
He turned toward you completely. You continued staring at your fingers where they rested against his hand.
“Work is loud.”
“Mhm.”
“My thoughts are loud.”
“Mhm.”
“The world is loud.” Another small shrug. “But when I’m touching you…”
You smiled sheepishly.
“…everything gets still.”
Robby felt something twist painfully inside his chest. He’d expected something teasing. Something silly. Not that.
“You make me feel…” You looked up at him. “…home.”
The room fell wonderfully silent. He reached up and gently brushed a piece of hair away from your face.
“You should’ve told me that.”
You smiled.
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“No.” He admitted quietly. “I guess you didn’t.”
Without another word, he set the remote down on the coffee table. Then he shifted. Until he was sitting farther down the couch. You frowned.
“What’re you doing?”
He patted his thigh.
“Come here.”
A grin spread across your face.
“I thought I was already here.”
“I have a better idea.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice. You climbed sideways into his lap, tucking your legs over the arm of the couch as your arms naturally settled around his neck. He wrapped one arm around your waist. The other rested across your back. Holding you securely. Comfortably. Like he’d done it a thousand times. You sighed happily.
“There she is,” he murmured.
“What?”
“My koala.”
You smiled into the side of his neck.
“I thought I was a flying squirrel.”
“I’ve narrowed it down.”
“I appreciate the scientific process.”
“It was rigorous.”
You laughed.
“I bet.”
Another comfortable silence settled over the room. The television continued playing forgotten in the background. Your breathing gradually slowed. Then slowed some more. Until Robby realized you were asleep. Just like that. Curled against him. One hand still loosely gripping the front of his T-shirt. He looked down at you and couldn’t help smiling.
“You know…” he whispered, mostly to himself. “…I think they all have it backwards.”
The dog lazily lifted her head.
“They think you’re the clingy one.” He gently kissed the top of your head. “I just never have the heart to tell them…”
His arm tightened ever so slightly around your sleeping body.
“…that I don’t actually want you to let go.”
He stayed exactly where he was for the next hour, long after the movie had ended and the credits had rolled. His leg fell asleep. His back started aching again. His phone buzzed twice on the coffee table. He ignored all of it.
Because the woman he loved was sleeping peacefully against his chest. And as far as Robby was concerned there were far worse ways to spend an evening than being someone’s favorite place to call home.
******
If anyone had asked Dr. Michael Robinavitch how he was doing that morning…He would’ve answered exactly the way he always did.
“Fine.”
It was automatic.
Resident: “Morning, Dr. Robinavitch.”
“Mhm.”
Nurse: “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
Frank: “You look like shit.”
“I always look like this.”
Business as usual. Except…You knew him. Really knew him. And the moment he walked into the emergency department, you knew something was off. He wasn’t grumpy. He wasn’t sarcastic. He wasn’t muttering under his breath about administration or broken printers or emergency medicine as a profession.
He was… Quiet. Not physically. Emotionally. The kind of quiet that only happened when something was hurting. You watched him through morning rounds. He answered every question correctly. He taught the residents. He examined patients. He signed charts. He smiled exactly once when an elderly woman flirted shamelessly with him.
To everyone else, Dr. Robinavitch was having a perfectly normal day. To you, He hadn’t looked your way once.Not because he was avoiding you. Because his mind wasn’t here. Around noon, you finally cornered Frank outside Radiology.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Frank didn’t even pretend not to know who you meant. He sighed.
“…Today’s the anniversary.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
His mother. She’d been gone for years. Robby rarely talked about it. When he did, it was always brief. Matter-of-fact. As if keeping the words short somehow kept the grief manageable. Frank leaned against the wall.
“He’ll get through the shift.”
“I know.”
“He always does.”
You nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Frank looked toward the trauma bay where Robby stood reviewing imaging with two residents.
“He’ll never ask for company.”
“I know.”
“…But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.”
For the rest of the afternoon, you didn’t smother him. You didn’t hover. You simply…Stayed close. If he walked to Radiology you somehow found yourself needing Radiology too. If he stopped for coffee you happened to be headed toward the coffee machine. If he sat down to chart you quietly took the chair beside him instead of across the room.
Neither of you said much. You simply existed beside him. Every now and then your knee brushed his beneath the desk. Your shoulder bumped his in the hallway. Your fingers found his for a few seconds before another patient pulled you away.
Tiny reminders. I’m here. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.
Around six that evening, the emergency department finally slowed enough that the two of you walked toward the parking garage together. The sky was streaked orange and pink. The summer heat had finally begun to fade. You unlocked your car. He unlocked his truck. You looked at each other.
“You wanna come to my place?” you asked gently.
He hesitated. Normally he’d tease you. Normally he’d say something sarcastic. Instead…
“…Yeah.”
Just one word. Quiet. Tired. You nodded.
“Okay.”
Dinner was grilled cheese and tomato soup. Mostly because neither of you had the energy to cook anything more elaborate. You ate at the kitchen island in comfortable silence. When the dishes were done, you wandered into the living room.
Usually this was where you’d migrate toward him. Find his shoulder. Steal his lap. Wrap yourself around him like an affectionate octopus. Tonight you stayed on your end of the couch. Not because you didn’t want to touch him. Because you were waiting. Giving him room.
He sat down with a quiet groan, elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the dark television screen. The room stayed silent. One minute. Two. Three. You let it.
Then without looking at you He quietly spoke.
“…Come here.”
Your heart squeezed. Not because of the words. Because of how softly he’d said them. You smiled.
“You sure?”
He nodded once.
“Mhm.”
You stood and crossed the room. Instead of automatically climbing into his lap like you usually would, you stopped in front of him.
“What do you need?”
For a long moment He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
“I don’t know.”
Your heart broke.
“I just…” He rubbed both hands over his face. “…Don’t want to be by myself tonight.”
You didn’t say a word. You simply stepped between his knees. Slid your arms around his shoulders. And hugged him. Really hugged him. Not playfully. Not teasingly. Held him.
For several seconds, he didn’t move. Then very slowly…his forehead came to rest against your stomach. His arms circled your waist. He let out a long, shaky breath. You began running your fingers through his hair. Slowly. Patiently. The way he’d done for you so many times before.
Neither of you spoke. The room didn’t need words. After another minute, you felt him melt. His shoulders finally dropped. The tension he’d been carrying all day slowly draining away beneath your hands. You leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
“I’ve got you.”
His fingers tightened against your back.
“I know.”
Another few minutes passed. Then he quietly admitted, “I went to call her today.”
Your hand stilled in his hair.
“When I got in the truck for lunch.”
His voice sounded almost embarrassed.
“I picked up my phone.”
A sad smile crossed your face.
“…Habit.”
“Mhm.”
“I realized halfway through dialing.”
Silence.
“I still do it sometimes.”
You felt tears sting your own eyes.
“Oh, Robby.”
“I know she’s gone.”
“I know.”
“But every once in a while…” He swallowed hard. “…I forget.”
You carefully tipped his chin upward until he looked at you. There were tears sitting quietly in his eyes. He wasn’t crying. Not quite. But he wasn’t hiding anymore either. You cupped his face with both hands.
“I wish I’d met her.”
A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“She would’ve loved you.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
He laughed quietly through his nose.
“She would’ve taken your side in every argument.”
“Naturally.”
“She would’ve called me an idiot.”
“You are one sometimes.”
“Mhm.”
His smile lingered for just a second before fading again.
“I miss her.”
You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his.
“I know.”
“I hate today.”
“I know.”
“I hate that every year it sneaks up on me.”
“I know.”
He closed his eyes.
“I just…” His voice cracked almost imperceptibly.“…wanted someone.”
Your heart completely caved in. Without another word, you climbed into his lap. This time not because you needed him. Because he needed you.
His arms wrapped around you immediately. Tightly. Almost desperately. You tucked his head beneath your chin and resumed playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers traced slow circles across his back. Every now and then, you pressed a gentle kiss into his temple.
“You know what’s funny?” you whispered after a while.
“What?”
“I always thought I was the clingy one.”
He let out a tired huff that almost resembled a laugh.
“You are.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
“Then what’s this?”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“…This is different.”
“How?”
He looked up at you. There was no embarrassment anymore. No attempt to hide behind sarcasm. Just honesty.
“…You’re home.”
The words stole your breath. He rested his forehead against yours again.
“And today…” His thumb stroked absentmindedly across your side. “…I really needed to come home.”
Your eyes filled instantly.
“You know…” You smiled through the tears. “I distinctly remember someone calling me a koala.”
“I stand by that.”
“And a barnacle.”
“Mhm.”
“And a flying squirrel.”
“Also true.”
You laughed softly.
“So what does that make you?”
He thought about it. Then, with the smallest smile, “…A hypocrite.”
You burst into laughter. Real laughter. The kind that made him smile too. You kissed him once. Twice. Then rested your forehead against his.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“What’s that?”
“You never have to ask me twice.”
His expression softened.
“For what?”
You brushed your nose gently against his.
“For this.”
You tightened your arms around him just a little more.
“For me.”
He closed his eyes and held you as though he’d been trying not to all day.
“Deal.”
And if anyone at PTMC had walked into the house that evening, they would’ve laughed themselves sick. Because the notoriously stoic, chronically grumpy, emotionally constipated Chief of Emergency Medicine was sitting on his own couch…Clinging to his fiancée with both arms. And he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
