I’ll meet you at the meadow. ⏾⋆.˚ @moonliightbabes - Tumblr Blog

Jun 3

♡ you can't keep me away from her ♡

♡ pairing: frank langdon x fem!reader x michael robinavitch

♡ synopsis: during his time off for rehab, frank keeps in contact with you to keep up with the goings-on at ptmc. but when things go from bad to worse—abby threatening divorce & a custody battle over their children, him continually relapsing, & the worry that if he can't get & stay clean, then he may lose his license & job as a whole—he begins to lay his baggage at your feet when he believes you to be all he has left. what begins as you trying to be a good friend ends in you running to robby for help when you begin to fear for your safety due to langdon's obsession.

♡ content: mentions of drug addiction/being high, stalking, codependency, robby is protective, pining!robby, unprotected p in v sex, infidelity

Ding ding

With an exhausted sigh, you roll onto your side, despite already knowing who it is.

With a quiet huff, you throw your hand atop your bedside table and grip the plastic corners of your phone case before sliding the device into bed with you.

Peeking open blurry eyes, you squint at the illuminated glass screen and pull down on the text notification displayed.

You awake?

"God, Langdon, it's almost 2 a.m.," you mumble.

Everything okay?

typing. . .

Just thinking about you.

You groan while pinching the bridge of your nose.

Before Langdon's dismissal due to apparently smuggling patients' prescriptions out of the ED and back home for his own personal use, he, as well as the likes of Robby, Abbot, and McKay, were some of your favorite mentors. And when Frank was sent packing on the road to recovery, you became someone he regularly confided in.

You'd initially thought it was because he missed being at work and just wanted to keep up with the goings-on in the ED. Now, you wonder if it wasn't due to loneliness because things haven't exactly been going well for him.

Between the situation at work, trying and failing at rehab due to continually relapsing, and Abby threatening divorce, as well as taking full custody of their children... Some days, all he seems to do is spiral.

That's where you come in. It began as just the occasional text, then a random phone call, a request for a coffee meetup, and somewhere along the way, contact started bordering on obsessive.

You'll never forget the first morning you woke up to nearly a dozen texts from him—half being apologies for flying off the handle because he was in the middle of a manic episode.

That should've been the moment you blocked his number.

But instead... It's what women are always taught: you must be nice. Put their wellbeing above your own, even to your detriment. They have it so hard, after all. Their feelings are so fragile.

So you forgave him.

Now, here you lie sacrificing sleep for his benefit.

I need to go back to sleep for work tomorrow. Goodnight.

typing. . .

Sorry. Night.

You roll your eyes at his clipped, passive aggressive tone. All because you're not willing to stay up and entertain his feelings.

He shouldn't be talking to you like that anyway, especially given the hour.

Tossing your cell back on the nightstand, you roll onto your side facing away from it in the hopes of drifting off again soon.

You're in the midst of aiding Robby with prepping a patient for a thrombectomy before they're carted off to a specialized suite when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Frank—that's your first thought now anytime it buzzes or chimes or anything pops up on your screen. Like when a mouse trap snaps, and you're left to assume it's caught a pest in its metal hinges. You don't know until you've checked it

Another buzz and you grit your teeth.

You need to put it on do not disturb at your earliest convenience.

Once the elderly man is deemed fit for travel across the hospital, a team comes shortly after to retrieve and wheel him away. Snapping off your gloves with irritation, you toss them into a waste bin and slip your phone from your pocket with a quiet curse—a sound that surprises Robby when he glances in your direction.

He watches as your thumbs fly across the digital keyboard and a crease knots itself right between your furrowed brows. "Everything alright?"

"It's fine," you snap—still typing.

Crossing his arms, as well as the room itself to reach you, he waits with pursed lips. "Boyfriend problems?"

You snort. "He's married, so not likely." You glance straight ahead, then press the heel of your palm to your forehead in annoyance. "We're not... He's just a friend."

Robby's attempt to skim the tiny text on your screen is futile without his readers on. "Going out on a limb, but did this 'friend' used to work here until quite recently?"

You quickly lock the device before tucking it back away and turning to face him. "He's going through a hard time and just needs someone to talk to."

Robby takes a small step forward, closing the gap between you. "Some particular reason that person needs to be you? And during work hours?"

Vibrate.

You step past him. "It's not a big deal."

"Didn't realize you and Langdon were that close," Robby remarks while following along behind.

Once you've reached your destination of the nurses station, you lean your head back and study the board above. "Frank feels alone right now, and—"

"It's Frank now, huh?" he asks with a surprised, yet humorless chuckle.

You roll your eyes before doing the same with your head, but in his direction. "I feel like you're trying to imply something."

He shrugs before glancing away and watching idly as your coworkers bustle about. "Just seemed like a heated exchange is all."

Robby looks at you again.

You exhale a quite huff of air before stepping away. "I need to grab another patient."

"You need to be careful," he calls after you.

"Always am," you mumble.

It's well past the middle of the day before you get another chance to really check your phone. You did briefly in the restroom and it only had one text from Frank:

FaceTime me during your next break ☀️

You'd raised a brow at the emoji, but didn't respond, deciding to wait like he suggested before you reached out.

Now sitting outside in the sun and fresh air, you sigh, then hold your phone at a distance from atop your knees before calling.

It's on the second ring when he picks up.

"Hey," Frank says with a smile and sleek, tousled hair falling over his brow. With an arm resting beneath his chin, you get a glimpse of a bare shoulder.

"Are you in bed?" you ask nervously.

His brows furrow. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I had a meeting earlier so now I'm just kinda...lazing around."

You nod while glancing away and watch as a pair of birds take flight from a nearby sign.

"Your day okay so far?"

You return your attention to the screen. "So far," you reply. "You asked me to call you. What were you...wanting to talk about?"

Shifting positions, you get a flash of Frank's bare chest before he leans back against the headboard behind him. "Just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after your shift." He smiles. "My treat. I can pick you up when you get off, take you out, then bring you back."

You blink a couple times. "And talk about what?" you ask warily, already feeling like this is a bad idea.

He smiles softly. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

A frown tugs at your lips. "You shouldn't call me that."

He chuckles. "What if I told you that's what I have your name saved as in my phone?"

Your eyes flit between his. "I would say that that's inappropriate."

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "I'm kidding, Jesus."

You kick a pebble with the toe of your shoe. "After work I usually just like to go home and take a shower." Your eyes flit back to the screen. "Get something to eat, then—"

"Look, you're gonna eat anyway, so let me take care of dinner tonight. Less dishes for you to wash," he remarks with a grin.

You shift in your seat. "I don't know that your wife would like that."

He snorts flippantly. "Well, getting her opinion would require her actually talking to me." Frank looks at his phone again. "I could always call her? Ask what she thinks? Maybe give her your number. I mean, the two of you could compare notes about me and—"

You throw your head back and groan in irritation, which earns you a laugh.

"So what'd'ya say? I won't have you out long. Hour or less. Promise."

You chew the inside of your lip.

"C'mon," he insists softly. "It's the least I can do to repay how good you've been to me since all this crap started."

"Just trying to be a good friend," you mumble.

"So am I," Frank states quietly.

This is a chance for you to seize. Being face-to-face, you'll have a better chance of getting through to him that the late-night texts need to stop, as do the pet names. And that he needs to put just as much effort into maintaining meaningful contact with Abby. That while you have no problem being his friend, he needs to lean heavily on his sponsor instead. It isn't...right to put it all on you—fellow medical professional or not.

"Okay," you relent with a nod. "But just for a little while."

He practically beams. "I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot at the end of your shift."

"There she is," Frank says with a smile while popping open the passenger side door of his vehicle.

Unlocking the trunk of your own, you quickly toss your pack inside before slamming it shut again and relocking it.

Even as you're sinking inside, Frank can't help himself from sliding a palm down your arm.

"So," you begin while pulling your ice water toward you. "What were you wanting to talk about?"

Frank leans back and you watch as a small smile plays on his lips. "Whatever you want."

You release a quiet exhale through your nose. Ok, fine. Works for you anyway. Just when you go to open your mouth, however, the waitress returns with your respective meals: a cheeseburger with all the fixings for him and grilled cheese sandwiches with creamy tomato soup for you.

You grant the woman a quiet thanks and a sweet smile, then take a bite of one of your buttery sandwiches before speaking. "I'd like for the late night texts to stop," you say gently.

Frank's brows knit together and he plops his burger back onto his plate before wiping his hands with a few cheap brown napkins.

"Just...nothing after 9 p.m., okay? It doesn't feel appropriate."

He crosses his arms. "That a rule for all your friends, or just me?"

Him getting defensive took a shorter amount of time than you thought it would. "Frank, I'm not trying to hurt you. It means something to me that I'm someone you feel safe in confiding in, but boundaries have to start being set. The same goes for my breaks. I only get a couple small chances during my workday to decompress for a moment before going back to it, and I prefer not to spend it on the phone. The ED is hectic enough as it is, and not being able to get a breather in because I'm FaceTiming or on a call doesn't help the matter."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "Anything else?"

"No more pet names." You debate tacking on something about no more in-person meetups as well, but are unsure about it. Ones that're late like this one feel more akin to dates, which you're absolutely not alright with, but being on dayshift... Eating a late meal is really your only option, in terms of going out for food.

Frank rolls his eyes and shakes his head before taking a sip of his Coke.

"I want to be your friend. One who's there for you to confide in, but this is starting to feel like dependency at times. I mean, the night that you spammed me with texts—"

He suddenly slams his hand off the table and it causes the dishes to rattle and you to jump, as well as other customers to glance in your direction.

You sink down in your seat from embarrassment.

"I wasn't myself that night, alright? I was—"

"Using?" you interrupt. "I have to be able to rest for work."

He snorts. "Work, work, work." He deadpans. "Because you really think that place gives a shit about you? That Robby does?"

"Robby is the only reason you were put on leave to get clean instead of having your license revoked as a whole," you say while doing your utmost to keep your tone level. "So, yes, I think it's safe to say that he does indeed care."

He blows a raspberry and your temper climbs another notch from the immature gesture.

"You need to talk to Abby," you say quietly. "She's not the one who did wrong, so the obligation is on you to reach out to her. She's your wife. You have two little ones together. You need to fight for your family. For yourself."

He glares at you for a moment, then picks up his burger again, signaling that the conversation has clearly come to an end.

The remainder of dinner was a silent affair, with you replaying every word you spoke to him on repeat in your head, wondering if maybe you'd been too hard, or had overthought things he's done, and thus had an overreaction. He's delicate right now, isn't he? What if tonight only makes him worse; sends him spiraling? Gives him cause to feel all alone again?

"I really do care about you," you tell him with care. "But I'm not a sponsor—someone who's equipped to know how to handle the throws of addiction. I just...feel overwhelmed at times. I'm terrified I'm going to do or say something, and then you'll get worse and it'll be my fault."

His shoulders loosen, as well as his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry if contact from me has felt excessive. I just... I don't really have anybody else to lean on." Reaching over, he settles a hand atop your knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Which is why I need you right now."

You speak once he's returned his hand to the wheel. "The people in NA—"

"They don't know me like you do," he states with a shake of his head. "I mean, how many of them, if I shot them a text at 2 a.m., would've answered right away?"

You knew you made a mistake in doing so.

"You're all I have for the time being. And if Abby follows through with divorce—"

"She won't," you interrupt. "I'm sure she's just saying that because she wants to know that you'll do everything you can to fight for her and the family you've created together."

He shrugs. "Or they'd be better off."

You frown. "None of them will. Tanner and Penny need their father. Abby needs her husband. And PTMC needs its doctor back. Frank, I want to see you succeed in every way possible. But you have to want it for yourself for it to happen."

He clicks on his turn signal and makes a right into PTMC's parking lot. "I just don't know if I can get through the first year, which everyone keeps telling me is the hardest. Just one week is bad enough."

"You're going to fall off the wagon," you say while unbuckling your seatbelt as he pulls up next to your car. "But what counts is whether you make the effort to get back on it."

Once he's parked and switched off the engine, he unbuckles as well, so you stay rooted to the spot incase there's something else he wishes to discuss.

"I just... I need to know that you're not going anywhere. Because some days," he says while turning toward you. "It feels like you're all I have left. I can't..." he extends a trembling hand toward you and cups your cheek tenderly. "Sweetheart, I can't lose you, too."

You swallow thickly, then swipe your bag from between your feet. "Okay, I think I need to get out now."

Dropping his hand, Frank turns and quickly locks your door from his side. "I just need you to listen to me. Five minutes, that's all I need," he explains in a rush of words while leaning over the center console.

You keep your eyes trained on him while sliding your hand along the door behind you in desperate search of the handle. "Frank—"

"Baby, just listen to me."

"H-Have you been using tonight?" you question while reeling back.

"I took a little something before I left the house." He shakes his head while taking your face between his hands. "It's not a big deal. If you just kiss me, you'll know. You'll feel what I do. It's not all in my fucking head, I know it."

You shove against his chest, but it's futile as he continues to lean in closer and closer.

And then you decide to scream. "Let me out! Now! Let me out of the fucking car!" you shout while slamming your bag against his dash. "Unlock the doors, Frank!"

"Fine! Fine! Jesus!"

Turning swiftly around, he clicks to release the locks, and you stumble out of the car a moment later.

He throws himself across the seat you've just vacated. "Listen, I'm sor—"

His apologies are cut short when you slam the door in his face and unlock your own vehicle with violently trembling hands before sinking inside and immediately locking the door behind you.

You don't even bother with your seatbelt before tearing out of the parking lot to race home.

"Hey," a familiar voice croons from behind you while a large palm is pressed to the small of your back.

You shriek and drop everything which was previously cradled in your arms and ready to be stored away in your employee locker and watch as it clatters to the floor. Swinging around with wide, searching eyes, you sigh when you see that it's only Robby.

"You alright?" he asks while kneeling with a groan before scooping up your personal belongings and handing them up to you.

You nod feebly. "Yes. Fine," you reply while hanging up a thin jacket, followed by a small backpack.

Standing again, he crosses his arms, watching as you wrap your stethoscope around your neck. "I come and find you every morning and that's never been your reaction. Hardly seem fine. Somethin' happen last night, or on your way here?"

Him showing concern is enough to open the floodgates you otherwise thought you'd put a pretty solid barricade over last night before going to sleep, which took you rather long to find as you tossed and turned—trying your very best, and subsequently failing, to calm your body's panicked response after earlier events in the evening.

You click your locker shut and shake your head while blinking away tears, because if you open your mouth, all he's getting in response is an ugly cry.

You go to step past, until Robby grabs you gently by the forearm. "Hey, talk to me."

So much for trying.

Burying your face in your hands, you start to cry. Full-on sobbing which wracks through your body and leaves you gasping for air.

Taking you gently into his arms, Robby winds them around you while you burrow into the safety his chest provides.

He presses his lips to the crown of your head and murmurs against it. "What happened, honey? Tell me what's got you so tore up this morning."

You shake your head. "Not here," you mumble while fisting his black scrub shirt in your fists.

"Let me take you somewhere that we can talk privately, then."

Now standing under the bright sun, which is covered only by a few fluffy clouds that float lazily past, you gaze across the city of Pittsburgh in all its bustling glory.

Robby is meanwhile busy watching a video on your phone which was recorded last night on your outdoor camera.

"He was out there for two fucking hours?" he hisses in disbelief before glancing up to you.

You nod. "Maybe he... Maybe he meant to scare me because I jilted him." You shake your head. "I don't know. Like I told you about all the texts and calls, it's not the first time his behavior has bordered on obsessive—"

Robby pushes off the railing. "Sweetheart, we're far past that. This?" He says while shaking your phone before planting it in your palm. "Is stalking."

You pocket the device.

"He tried to force himself on you after you made clear how uncomfortable he's made you, and then he sat outside your house for hours in the middle of the night. I think you have more than enough cause to file a police report at this point."

You shake your head so hard that it makes you dizzy. "No, Robby, I-I can't do that. This isn't him. He's not himself right now, and you know that. It's why you didn't report him yourself." You wave your hand. "Me doing something so drastic and reactionary could jeopardize not just his recovery, but his entire life: his marriage, custody—"

"Well," Robby says with a dramatic shrug. "Maybe he should've considered that before he locked you in his car, and, now, made you fear for your safety in your own home."

You sigh and throw your head back. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to give him a criminal record." You lower your chin. "I just...wanted to confide in someone."

He takes a few small steps forward.

"I want to believe that he's going to beat his addiction and get his life back on track. I have no interest in preventing it. Not when—when he was here—he was so helpful toward me and my education."

"I think you've more than repaid that kindness," he states while crossing his arms. "Don't you?"

Worried that he won't stop until he's pressured you into making a trip down to the local precinct, or at least into talking to Ahmad, you turn on your heel to head in the other direction.

"Alright," he says, yielding to your refusal. "We let it go for now. But if he does it again, then you really need to consider going a step further by filing a report. Otherwise, it's not going to stop. If anything, you'd be putting yourself at risk of things getting worse by allowing him to get away with it."

You shift from one foot to the other. "I'll think about it. In the meantime," you say while turning to head back down. "I packed a bag for a couple nights. I plan to wait a few hours before I book a room because I'm not sure yet, but I may stay at a hotel tonight, just to be safe."

"You shouldn't have to do that," Robby comments while following along behind you.

"Just for a night or two," you reassure.

Once you've opened the door to the stairwell, he holds it in place. "I have a guest room."

You pause, then turn back to him.

"You're more than welcome to use it."

A smile of thanks graces your lips. "I appreciate that, Robby. A lot. But—"

He shakes his head. "No 'buts'. It'll save you a few hundred, and make me feel better by knowing where you are. It's why I have it in the first place. I thought..." he nervously scratches the back of his head. "I thought I'd get use out of it when I got married someday. In-laws, or a bedroom for one my kids. Some place friends could stay if they visited during the holidays."

He doesn't look at you when he attempts a shrug of indifference. Attempts, because you know it bothers him, even if he's trying to pretend otherwise.

His eyes flit to yours. "Tonight after your shift, follow me home and you can crash there. For however long you need."

"This is important to you?" you question, wanting to make sure he doesn't feel somehow obligated to do this. You obviously understand a desire for privacy, especially in the moment, and you don't want to interrupt his.

He cups your cheek while nodding. "This is important to me."

Never ever ever, in your wildest dreams, did you think you'd so much as visit your attending's house, and now here you stand in the guest room right next to his own, turning down the bed after a shower.

You've expended effort to memorize every moment that you've been alone with him tonight. From standing at his back while he unlocked the front door, to taking inventory of his personal living space—which includes a considerable record collection that you pointed out, which he replied to with a humble shrug and a mumbled "Just wish I had more time to listen to 'em"—and even curiously sorting through his soaps in the shower.

It'd felt so intimate holding his razor in your hand before setting it back down and lathering yourself with a washcloth that you couldn't help but think about Robby using on himself.

Now washed and brushed and ready for bed, you're dressed only in panties, socks, and an over-sized t-shirt as you turn down the queen-size bed provided.

You're unaware, but there he stands behind you, leaning against the doorway with a small, satisfied smile which quickly morphs into pursued lips as you bend over to throw the covers back, thus granting him a generous view of your backside before your shirt slips back into place.

"Anything else you need before we both turn in for the night?" he asks quietly.

You turn back to Robby with a smile and a shake of your head. "I think I'm okay. I don't imagine I'll be doing much sleeping, anyway."

He raises a brow of interest. "Oh?"

"I'll probably spend the next few hours battling racing thoughts," you explain. As well as continually checking security cameras on your phone...

Robby considers, but fleetingly. "Would it make you feel safer to sleep next to me instead?"

Just as you're about to slip into bed, you turn back to him. A barrage of thoughts journey through your head in the blink of an eye.

Does he want that for reasons other than just making you feel safe? Why does your safety mean so much to him, anyway? Is he truly hoping you'll say yes? What is this dynamic between you, exactly? Does he see you more like a child, or a woman needing a man's protection? Is sleeping all Robby would intend for the two of you to do?

Of course it is! He doesn't adore you the way you have him since the first day you met. Shameful truth admitted? If roles were shifted, and it was him stalking you, the advances wouldn't be quite so unwanted... But you can't say such a terrible thing. No, it must remain strictly in your head.

"I wouldn't want to keep you up," is your expertly planned reply, whereas your heart and mind are both enthusiastically screaming 'Yes, now's your chance! Screw his brains out! Make him yours at last!'

You busy yourself with fluffing a pillow. "I'd ruin your sleep by tossing and turning all night."

Robby takes a small step forward, causing wooden floorboards to creak beneath his weight. "Rather you do it beside me."

Tossing the pillow back down, you go to speak again to refuse one last time, knowing he's just trying to be kind, until he twines his fingers between your own and tugs you along to his room. "C'mon, you'll feel safer with me sleeping next to you."

He keeps staring at you. Maybe he thinks you don't notice because you're turned onto your back while he's otherwise turned onto his side, but you do. You're aware of everything he does. Constantly.

Even just the whisper of his voice sends your mind afloat and your body abuzz.

Does that make you a stalker? You roll your eyes at the ridiculous thought.

You only spy on him in various trauma bays...sometimes.

"What're you thinking about?" he rumbles.

The fact that you're lying beside me entirely naked, save for a pair of briefs which I wish you'd take off, too.

With an arm thrown over your forehead, you shrug. "Everything."

He chuckles, then slides a hand all the way up your arm that's resting at your side until it's come to settle just under the cuff of your t-shirt. "Sounds like you've got a lot going on in there." A pause. "Any of it about Langdon?"

You nod.

He brushes his thumb over your skin. "You think about him a lot?"

Your brow twitches. "All the time."

His lips tug into a frown. "Is that why, then? That you're trying so hard to protect him? Because you have feelings for him?"

You smile at such a silly thought and shake your head. "No, I don't. I just want to see him succeed as a friend and coworker. He's someone I greatly admired in the ED, and I thought he, Abby, and their children made such a sweet family." You roll your head to the side to look at Robby. "Him, the prestigious doctor, and she the sweet stay-at-home mother with two little ones, a pretty house, and a dog."

"You're a good friend," he whispers.

"Maybe too good," you reply.

"That something you want? A family?"

You nod slowly. "I do. But with our schedules... How our lives revolve around work makes even attempting to find someone difficult. On my days off, the last thing I want to waste my time with is a dead-end first date. So I do literally anything else while telling myself that the right one will come along when he's meant to."

"I thought I'd have one by now," he murmurs. "A wife to come home to. Kids grown up and off to college—living their own lives. Hell, maybe even a grandkid or two... At least on the way."

You turn fully onto your side and he lies his hand between the two of you, which you rest your own atop of. "You could live another fifty years, Robby. You could still have that. I know people think otherwise, but so long as people try to take care of themselves, seventy doesn't have to be that old. You can still have a family; children you get to watch grow up."

He forces a smile, then cups your cheek while brushing the pad of his thumb over the apple of it. "I was jealous, y'know? Of the attention you'd been giving Langdon."

Your brows furrow. "What? Why?"

His smile slowly falters, but the way he's touching you doesn't. "Maybe I thought..." He sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be another superior who crosses a line. That's the reason you're here in the first place."

Is he... Is he coming onto you? You've spent so long continually beating yourself over the head with the thought that he would never so much as glance twice in your direction, and yet here you lie in his bed where he seems unable to not touch you.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Please."

"You're in my house, sweetheart. My bed. What does that tell you about how I feel?"

You're practically buzzing with excitement and eagerness to climb atop him and shower him in affectionate kisses, all while telling him that you'd be more than willing to give him all those things he's seemingly convinced himself that it's too late for him to have now.

You're crazy about him, but if you go off the deep end, you'll scare him away by morphing into Langdon 2.0.

You scoot closer and press your palms against his belly while gently kneading the soft swell of it. "Do you have any idea," you begin breathlessly, since your heart is now pounding. "How elated I was when you invited me to come stay with you?"

A look of surprise paints his aging features. "Really?"

You grin while nodding. You cautiously slide your hand upward, through the smattering of dark hair that covers the planes of his stomach and chest. "All I ever wanted was your attention."

Robby moves his hand to the crown of your shoulder, then down your waist. "You've had it, sweetheart. The whole time."

Sliding your fingers into the coarse, scratchy trimmings of his beard, you can't stop yourself from giggling in exhilaration.

"You're far more interested than I thought," he states while carefully repositioning himself atop you, ready for you to withdraw.

Instead, you spread your legs to grant him plentiful room between them.

You throw an arm around the back of his neck while cupping his cheek in your other hand. "You have no idea," you sigh while lifting your hips, wanting him to undress you.

He leans down and fully settles his weight atop you, and you moan when his belly pushes you further into the mattress. Kissing your cheek, you can't keep yourself from smiling like a love-crazed teenager who's hot for teacher.

"You asked me to tell you," he groans against your ear. "So now it's your turn."

You shudder when he slips a calloused hand beneath your shirt. "What if I ruin it?" you sigh while throwing your calves over his own.

He finally presses his lips to yours. "You won't."

He says that now...

It'll scare him off, and then this perfect moment will be over. You'll lose him before you even have him. Just the thought makes you want to burst into tears.

"I'm scared," you whisper before kissing him back.

"Of?" he inquires while pushing your shirt to just beneath your chin so he can suckle at your nipples.

God, you're in Heaven.

"You stopping. Or...losing you."

He plants a kiss between your breasts. "You won't. So, tell me."

He moves his palm up your forearm before twining his fingers between your own.

Throwing your head back, your eyes flutter closed. "I think I'm in love with you."

His cock stirs, so he hooks a thumb under the waistband of his briefs. "Say that again if you want me inside of you," he rasps.

"I love you," you cry while holding tightly to him.

Robby doesn't even consider protection before sinking between your thighs.

The following morning comes far too early for you both. One time hadn't been nearly enough, so he insisted the two of you keep going until he could no longer maintain an erection. Three orgasms later, and he was finally spent while you lied there crying tears of joy as he leaked out of you and down your thighs.

You'd curled up against his body—literally trying to get as close to him as you possibly could—before drifting into a deep and peaceful slumber.

You had felt so, so safe in his arms and against his brawny chest.

And just as you slipped off to sleep, you could've swore you heard the sentiment returned: I've loved you from the first.

First what you didn't catch. Time you met? Time he looked at you? Spoke to you? All those were on the same day.

You suppose all that matters is that the feeling is returned.

When Robby's alarm sounds, you stir quietly, but don't rise. Neither does he, instead choosing to savor the moment of your limbs twined tightly around his like you're afraid of letting go. When he wakes you, it's with a kiss and an offer of a shared shower. Something you easily accept. Before washing, you stand beneath the hot, steamy water, merely holding yourself to him while telling him over and over again how happy you are.

At least with the water running, you can't make out the tears he sheds.

The two of you manage a discussion on the way to work—in his truck, no less, as he insisted on driving. You had nervously started it by already trying to roll back last night incase he felt regretful because it'd just been the heat of the moment for him. Until he reached across the center console and took your hand while reassuring you that while this may be brand new, and that you may each be unaware of the exact direction that it'll lead, he wants nothing more than to find out along with you.

So you'd held quietly to his hand for the remainder of the ride while your skin tingled from the lingering effects of his touch, including a pleasant ache between your thighs where you'd held him.

A handful of people seem to notice that something is different. At one point, Dana even makes a comment that you seem to be glowing, coupled with a knowing look in Robby's direction, but you had merely smiled and said that maybe it was the good weather.

When Cassie finds Robby staring at you for a moment longer than usual—which is truly saying something—she simply walks away with an amused grin and a playful shake of her head.

Your walking on air is cut short during your afternoon break, however, when you go outside for a bit of respite, only to run smackdab into the unexpected presence of Frank.

"I need to talk to you," he insists while holding tightly to your arms.

You stutter for a reply, but because he's taken you entirely by surprise, your mind is lagging the least bit behind as you pulls you further from the ambulance bay's sliding doors.

"F-Frank, what're you—"

He takes your face between his hands and when your eyes stare into his, which are glossed over with pinned pupils, your heart sinks. "Are you high?" you ask in disbelief.

"Doesn't matter," he mutters with a shake of his head. "I need you and I cannot lose you, okay? You are the only one who sees me. Who gets me. Sweetheart, I love y—"

"Hey!" Robby shouts before gripping him by the back of his t-shirt and tossing him to the side. "You get the hell away from her!"

Shoving you behind him, Robby stations himself squarely between the two of you.

Frank goes to advance toward you again, until Robby shoves him back once again, causing him to stumble. "I cannot believe that you would show up here of all places in this kind of fucking shape, Langdon."

Frank seethes. "Get out of my way. This doesn't concern you, Robby."

You consider making a run for it to get Ahmad to come outside and stop this before something terrible happens.

"You're damn right it does. She told me what you've been up to. Calling at all hours, coming onto her, sitting outside her goddamn house at night?" he asks incredulously. "You can't be that far gone that you think what you're doing is appropriate."

"She's the only thing I have fucking left!" Frank yells while gesturing toward you. "What's the problem, Robby? I have something that you never will? Huh? That it?"

If only he knew...

"Yeah," he says while coming closer with a malicious grin. "I've seen the way you look at her. Pulling her off other cases so she can be with you all day. You just couldn't wait to get me out of the way, could you?"

Keeping one arm behind himself and around your waist, you press yourself against Robby's back in fright.

"If I wanted you gone, Frank, I would've gone to the medical board. But I didn't, did I? Instead, I gave you a second chance. Seeing how that's going, maybe I made a mistake."

He leans in toward him. "You need to think about what means more to you: your family, job, and right to practice medicine, or her. Because you only get to choose one."

Frank's eyes flit to his. "Because if somebody posed the same choice to you, you'd have such an easy time picking. Then again, I guess you don't have to worry about the family part, given that you don't have any to lose." He sneers. "You can't keep me away from her."

"Watch me," Robby spits. "You ever come near her again—you ever put your fucking hands on her again—and I'll destroy what's left of your pathetic life. I'll go to the Medical Board, help her file a protective order, and testify in court on her behalf of how you've given her cause to fear for her safety. That'll put one hell of a wrench in staving off losing custody of your kids, won't it?"

You peek from around him while clutching at his hoody.

Frank tries to reach out to you, but Robby bats his hand away. "Go home, Frank. Get the hell out of here before I call security to have you arrested. Now!"

He takes a small step back, knowing that he's on the losing side. "I'm not giving up on us, baby. I know what I want."

Frank makes a reluctant turn and stumbles his way back to the parking lot.

Once he's out of sight, you collapse in Robby's arms in a heap of regretful sobs, feeling like this is your fault.

After the day of the confrontation, you were forced to change your number because Frank's constant contact became so excessive. He never showed up outside of your house again, at least, nor did he appear at work, much to your relief. So, for awhile you were left in the dark as to what was occurring in his life you'd once been so enmeshed in.

Things become easier before long without the stresses of his sobriety resting upon your shoulders.

With your mind back to focusing strictly on work, the only difficult part of your days becomes unruly patients, and your evenings center wholly around Robby—the center of your world.

You begin spending most nights at his place, until he finally poses the offer you had thought too good for you to ever hear: he wanted you to share his home; his bed; his life.

And you continue lovemaking without the hindrance of prophylactics. You never have a discussion about it, as it's just an unspoken agreement between you.

You're both teased about your longing looks, and lingering touches—by Jack most of all—but...you're both so very happy, so you're willing to take it in stride.

And then there's the inevitable: talk of Langdon returning so many months later.

Robby makes clear to you that he wants to you maintain a healthy distance from him, at least initially until he proves himself worth trusting again, and that if he ever touches you or makes unwanted advances again, you are to report straight to him and he'll take every step necessary to make it stop.

But to Langdon's credit, his return is rather unremarkable. There's awkwardly exchanged glances, but he doesn't trail after you or corner you by the lockers or in the restroom like you worried about the first few days.

The first time he speaks to you is almost two weeks later, in the employee lounge.

"Hey," he says weakly from the table shoved against the left wall.

With a protein shake now in-hand, you turn back to him while nervously eyeing the door. "Hey..."

Flashing his palms, he gestures that he means you no harm. "I wanted to apologize. I mean, I wanted to the first day I got back, but thought maybe I should give it a little while. Let you have your space."

You finger the plastic wrap around the bottle you hold.

"I wasn't myself. Yes, I knew what I was doing, and I knew that it was wrong, but the benzos..." he sighs and shakes his head. "I've been clean for awhile now. Every day is an uphill battle, but that day out in the ambulance bay... It was a wake-up call. I hope you know that it wasn't entirely about you. It was about me being selfish."

You toy with the twist-off cap on the bottle.

"I'm so sorry that I ever scared you. I hate myself for it. For that, for the way I hurt my wife, disrespected my family and myself..."

He glances up to you after studying his hands for a moment. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't know that I'm even asking for it. I just wanted to apologize. Try and make amends if I even can at this point. You were there for me at my lowest point and instead of being grateful, I took advantage. I'm so sorry that I did."

You take a small step forward. "Maybe I will in time." You twist the cap all the way off, then tighten it again. "Did you tell Abby?"

He nods. "Everything. I came so close to losing her because of it. But if I'm going to hold myself accountable, then no more lies. Y'know?"

You nod. "I'm glad that it seems like things are on the mend for you."

He nods toward the doorway, where the ED lies. "You, too. I mean about you and Robby." He hangs his head. "I drove you right into his arms, didn't I?"

You chew your lip. "Sorta. It might've happened anyway. At least something good came out of it," you say with a light chuckle.

He lifts his head again and forces a smile. "The two of you seem happy."

"We are," you confirm. "We... We live together now. And we're trying."

His brows furrow. "Trying for..." he nods. "Ah. That."

You turn toward the doorway. "Well, I should probably..."

Just as you're about to step over the threshold, he rises. "Just so you know—"

You turn around.

"It wasn't... The way I felt wasn't entirely due to the drugs."

You frown slightly. "Have you told that to—"

He runs a hand through his black tresses. "She wasn't happy to hear it, I can tell you that much."

You waver on your feet, unsure of how to craft a response.

"I don't know if that makes things better or worse, but it was something I felt like I should let you know."