Hi cutie pies, I've had a lot of time on my hands and I have caught a writing bug and just can't stop now! This might be a part one of two, or a stand alone with no happy resolution. Let me know what you'd prefer! hope you enjoy x
Word count: 3.5k
Content warning; Female reader who has hair long enough to tie up
Summary; Trying to juggle working at the hospital and late night diner gets a lot harder when Robby walks in, with a date
Your shift had been gruelling, to put it lightly. The day had blurred as you lost count of the blood soaked gloves, discarded gowns, grieving families and frightened patients. Every fleeting moment of calm had been stolen away by monitors screaming and another trauma rolling through the doors. Another life, left in your hands, demanded every ounce of your attention. And despite the permanent ache that had settled in your bones, you gave what little energy you had left. The last 12 hours were spent running on adrenaline and cold coffee. But, when the clock finally struck seven, you wasted no time. You weren’t staying a minute longer than necessary. If only you were heading home, to the shower and bed that has been occupying your thoughts for the better half of your shift. Instead, the rest of your evening was waiting for you.
No rest for the wicked.
“You headed out kid?” Dana asked as you rounded the nurses station, your bag hanging heavily from one shoulder while you fought with the sleeve of your coat that had somehow twisted itself inside out.
“Yeah, I’m,”
Your words faltered as you felt someone step up behind you. Large hands gently caught the edge of your jacket before you could continue your battle with it, patient fingers untwisting the sleeve with effortless familiarity. Before you could protest, your arm was guided through the opening, the fabric settling comfortably over your shoulders.
“There you go.”
The warmth of his voice fanned over your neck and you suppressed the shiver creeping down your spine and the flutter rising in your chest. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to catch Robby’s smile before he moved to lean against the counter beside Dana, as though helping you into your coat had been the most natural thing in the world.
In the last twelve months that you had spent working with Robby, you had quickly learned each other’s rhythm and slipped into a routine that felt effortless. You worked together seamlessly, always anticipating each other’s next move. You knew what the other was thinking just by a furrow of a brow. You knew Robby in a way that felt too intimate for the walls of the hospital. You tried your best to ignore the stolen glances and lingering smiles. You learned early on to not think about them too much. But there were times when your body betrayed you. When your breath would catch if he stood too close and the scent of his shampoo lingered just long enough to distract you.
“I think,” Robby announced, folding his arms, “after the shift she’s had, she’s clocking out and never coming back.”
Dana laughed, nudging him with her elbow “Don’t even joke about that.”
Robby lifted both hands in surrender, though the grin never left his face. “What?”
“We’d be completely screwed without her.” Dana said, looking over the rims of her glasses and the chaos of the ED around you. Robby’s eyes flicked back to yours, softening slightly for a second.
“She’s got a point.”
You looked away, never sure of how to take a compliment from Robby. The criticisms, you could deal with. They helped you be a better doctor, but the compliments, they affirmed what he really thought of you.
“Oh, please,” you scoffed, smiling. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Is that so?” Robby teased.
You pointed a finger at him as you backed toward the sliding doors.
“Yes.”
“Get some rest!” Dana called.
“And eat something!” Robby added.
You snorted in response.
“Bossy.”
The moment you stepped outside your body seemed to remember just how exhausted it was.The automatic doors slid shut behind you, muffling the familiar sound of hurried footsteps until they became little more than a distant hum. You stood on the pavement for a second longer than you probably should have, tipping your face towards the fading evening sky.
God, how you wanted to go home. A shower hot enough to scrub off the smell of antiseptic. Clean clothes and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. It sounded a lot better than where you were headed. You pulled your phone from your pocket.
7.05pm
You headed for the bus stop, making it just in time. The ride across town passed in a blur. Around you, commuters chatted about their dinner plans, weekends away and evenings spent doing absolutely nothing. You couldn’t remember the last time an evening belonged to you.
You had made another payment to your student loan that morning, but it barely scratched the surface. But at least it stopped the interest from eating you alive. Then of course there was rent, gas and electricity. Groceries that somehow cost more each week.
The emergency department paid well enough to live. The diner made sure you could keep living. It wasn’t glamorous, and it certainly wasn’t sustainable, but for now it worked. Or at least, you kept telling yourself it did. You knew that one day the loans would be paid off. One day you wouldn’t have to calculate every purchase before reaching the checkout.One day you wouldn’t have to work two jobs just to stay afloat. You couldn’t wait for that day.
You tightened your grip on your bag as the bus pulled to a stop outside the familiar neon sign. The diner sat on the corner, its windows glowing warm against the gathering dusk. From outside, it looked almost cosy. Inside, you knew better.The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling burgers greeted you the moment you stepped through the door.
“You’re cutting it fine,” your manager called from behind the counter without looking up from the register.
“Traffic,” you huffed as you ducked into the cramped staff room, swapping your scrubs for a faded polo shirt and tying your apron around your waist with practiced hands. You caught your reflection in the small mirror above the lockers.
You could still see the slight indentation on the bridge of your nose from wearing a mask all day and your ponytail had given up hours ago, loose strands escaping around your face. A smile that looked more rehearsed than genuine. It would have to do. You smoothed the creases from your apron, squared your shoulders and stepped back onto the restaurant floor. Another shift. Another few hours closer to being free.
The fluorescent lights of the diner felt infinitely harsher than the ones at the hospital. At least there you were often too busy to notice them. Here, every minute seemed to stretch. The relentless buzz overhead filled the silence between customers and made the hours crawl.
You topped off the last few mugs of coffee offering tired smiles to a handful of regulars
As the bell above the door chimed.
“Be right with you,” you called out automatically before grabbing two menus from behind the counter. Turning towards the door, your practised smile slipped from your face. Robby. Your body stopped before your mind had a chance to catch up. Of all the diners in the city. Of all nights. The universe had spent the entire day testing your patience, but this felt almost cruel. For a moment, neither of you moved.
He looked just as surprised to see you standing there in a grease-stained apron as you were to see him. And he wasn’t alone. A woman stood beside him, her arm linked comfortably through his. She was beautiful in the effortless sort of way that made you instantly aware of every loose strand escaping your ponytail. She looked like she belonged somewhere with candlelight and expensive cocktails, not beneath flickering fluorescent lights that smelled faintly of burnt coffee and fryer oil.
Heat crept into your face. You weren’t sure which stung more. That Robby was here with someone, or that this was how he’d discovered your second job.Your eyes met his, silently pleading with him, don’t make this awkward. His gaze drifted almost immediately from your face to the apron tied around your waist. To the plastic name badge clipped to your chest. For a moment, his expression stayed unreadable. Then you saw it. Recognition and understanding. You watched the pieces fall into place behind his eyes.
After twelve hours spent saving lives, you came here. Every night. The embarrassment settled heavily in your stomach. Before he could say anything, you forced your brightest customer service smile into place.
“Evening,” you said, as politely as if you’d never met him before. “Table for two?”
For the briefest second, confusion crossed his face. Then he understood. His shoulders eased, enough for you to notice.
“Yeah,” he answered quietly, playing along. “Just two.”
“Right this way.”
You led them towards a booth by the window, setting two menus neatly onto the table.
“Your server will be,”
“You, right?” the woman interrupted pleasantly, though there was an impatience beneath her smile. “I’d rather not wait.”
“Of course.”
You pulled your pad from your apron pocket, grateful for something to look at besides either of them.
“What can I get you both to drink?”
Your pen hovered above the paper.
“I’ll have sparkling water,” she said, barely glancing up from the menu. “With fresh lemon.”
You scribbled it down.
“Of course.”
Then, despite every instinct telling you not to, you looked at Robby. He was already looking at you. Not with pity. Not with embarrassment. Just, looking. His eyes lingered for a fraction longer than they should have before he finally answered.
“Coffee.”
The word escaped you before you had time to think.
“Are you sure?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. Only slightly.
“Long day.”
Despite everything, a tired smile threatened to betray you.
“You’ve got no idea,” you murmured, almost too quietly to hear.
“What was that?” his companion asked. You blinked, dragging your attention back to her.
“I said I’ll bring those right out.”
She smiled politely before returning to her menu. You turned quickly, willing your legs to keep moving at a normal pace as you made your way back behind the counter. Only once you’d disappeared into the safety of the kitchen did you let yourself breathe. Your hands trembled just enough that the glasses clinked together as you reached for them. You closed your eyes. Just for a second. Then opened them again. Another table.
Another order. Just keep moving. As you filled the sparkling water, voices drifted across the diner.
“I hope you’re happier to be here than she is.” The woman said with a quiet laugh.
There was a pause. Long enough that, against your better judgement, you found yourself listening.
“I think she’s just tired,” Robby replied softly, and you pretended that you hadn’t heard.
The rest of the evening passed with you trying to keep busy, wiping down tables, and checking the salt shakers twice. As much as you tried to stay as far away from Robby’s table as possible, his date had made that almost impossible. She wasn’t openly rude. Somehow, that would’ve been easier. Instead, she was the sort of customer who smiled warmly while making your job just a little more difficult. The fries weren’t crispy enough. The sparkling water needed more ice. The lemon looked dry. Extra napkins. Another handful of ketchup. Every request came with a polite smile. Every one earned the same response.
“Of course.”
“I’ll sort that for you.”
“No problem at all.”
You’d dealt with far worse. So why did your jaw ache from clenching it? Why did every soft laugh drifting from their booth seem to find you no matter where you were in the diner? You told yourself it was a coincidence when your eyes kept wandering back to them. You ignored the tightness in your chest when her fingers brushed briefly over the back of Robby’s hand as she laughed. By your third trip to the kitchen, even your smile hurt. You balanced another pot of fresh coffee against your hip before making your way back across the restaurant. As you reached their booth, Robby’s date glanced towards the hallway.
“I’m just going to the restroom.”
“I’ll be here,” Robby replied with an easy smile.
You poured the coffee in silence, grateful for something to focus on besides the weight of his attention. For a few moments, the only sound between you was the steady stream of coffee filling his mug.
“You know,” he said eventually. Your hand paused.
“You didn’t have to pretend we didn’t know each other.”
A quiet laugh escaped before you could stop it.
“I kind of did.”
“Why?” He asked and you shrugged.
“I didn’t really want to explain to your date why the doctor you work with spends her evenings serving burgers.”
When you finally looked up, Robby was studying you. Not your uniform. You. The exhaustion you’d been pretending wasn’t there.The shadows beneath your eyes.The way you shifted your weight almost unconsciously, trying to ease the ache in your feet.
“You work here every night?” he asked quietly.
“Most nights.” His brow furrowed.
“When do you sleep?” A tired laugh escaped you again.
“I fit it in where I can.”
His expression tightened. Like he was trying to solve a problem that had no obvious answer. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever he’d been about to say. Instead, he looked down into his coffee.
“Her name’s Carol.”
The words caught you off guard. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to explain. Maybe he didn’t either. Still, hearing her name made something twist painfully in your chest.
“We met last week,” he continued after a moment. “At a bar.”
You nodded, forcing another smile.
“She seems nice.”
He didn’t answer straight away. Before either of you could find another word, Carol returned, sliding back into the booth with an apologetic smile. You straightened instinctively, slipping your customer-service smile back into place as though it had never left.
“Can I get you both anything else?”
Carol glanced towards Robby before looking back at you.
“Just the bill, please.”
“Of course.”
Sleep came in fractured pieces. Every time you drifted off your mind dragged you back to the same image. Robby standing beneath the diner’s neon sign. Holding the door open, for someone who wasn’t you. You rolled onto your front, burying your face into the pillow. It was ridiculous. You knew it was. The bus ride home had been spent with you trying to convince yourself of that. Robby was allowed to date. Of course he was. You wanted him to be happy, and you had no claim to him. So why did it feel like someone had reached into your chest and quietly rearranged everything? It wasn’t that you’d ever believed that he would feel the same way. You had been careful to never let yourself believe that. But seeing him, smiling across a table at someone else, watching someone else reach for his hand. It made you realise that another woman might get to know the parts of him you had spent a year quietly collecting. The tiny pieces of him you had never meant to notice, but always did. It felt like mourning something that had never belonged to you. The pain that you were feeling was the exact reason you had never allowed yourself to think about him for too long. Because the moment that you did, it hurt too much to bear.
The ED was already alive when you arrived. Too loud, too busy. But it was normal. People came in with broken bones and chest pains. There wasn’t time for you to dwell on your own problems when everyone else demanded your attention first. You preferred it that way. You had almost convinced yourself that last night had been no more than a moment of weakness. Robby was there too, of course. Always there. And yet, every time you looked up, you were aware of him in a way that felt slightly unbearable now. Not new. Just sharper. Every now and then, you’d catch sight of him across the department. Giving instructions. Reviewing scans with one of the junior doctors. Explaining a treatment plan to a patient’s family. Every time your eyes met, you looked away first.
You had tried to avoid him and had been succeeding until he appeared beside you and you tried to busy yourself with patient notes.
“Hi.”
You looked up. Robby, smiling at you like always. Easy, normal. As though nothing had changed. Completely unaware of the way your heart insisted on making everything more complicated than it needed to be.
“Hi.” You tried to muster up a convincing smile and diverted your eyes quickly.
“You look tired.” He said, placing his glasses into his pocket as he gazed up at the board. You laughed quietly.
“That’s because I am.”
He rested his forearms against the counter, glancing to the side trying to catch your gaze.
“Rough shift last night?”
There it was, the elephant in the room you couldn’t ignore.
“You could say that.” You kept your eyes on your paperwork and tried to sound more casual than you felt.
“Listen, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Your hands paused.
“I don’t.” You lied. Robby studied you for a moment.
“You’ve barely looked at me all morning.”
Your heart sank. Had you really been that obvious?
“I’ve been working.”
“I just want you to know, you can talk to me. And you know, I like to think of us as friends. So, I just want you to know I am here.” The word landed between you like a stone. You hated how much it stung. It was true. Of course it was. Robby was your friend.
“Thank you, Robby.” Was all you could manage. For the first few minutes, neither of you spoke.
“So,”
“So?”
“How long have you been working at the diner?”
You shifted uncomfortably where you stood.
“About twelve months.”
His eyes widened.
“Twelve?”
“Mm.”
“On top of this job?” He waved his hand around the department.
“Mm.”
“When do you get a day off?”
You laughed.
“I think I had one around Easter.”
He looked horrified.
“I’m joking! Mostly.”
“You can’t keep doing that.” He shook his head with a look of concern.
“I don’t plan to.”
“So why are you?”
You stared at him for a while before answering.
“Student loans.”
He stayed quiet.
“And rent.”
Another pause.
“I finally got my own place after graduation.”
You smiled faintly.
“It's a cramped one-bedroom with unreliable heating and a radiator that seems to make more noise than heat. But it’s mine. I just need to keep it that way.”
He nodded slowly. No judgement. No pity. Just understanding.
“You’ll get there eventually.”
You looked at him with your head tilted and for the first time all day, a real smile on your face.
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“You’ve never struck me as someone who quits halfway.”
Something warm settled in your chest. No one had ever made your relentless determination sound like something worth admiring.
“Anyway, enough about me. What about you?
“What about me?”
“Did you have fun on your date?”
Silence.
You glanced up and his eyebrows had lifted slightly as if he wasn’t expecting you to mention it. You offered a small smile.
“You looked like you were having a good time” The words tasted bitter and you hoped that he couldn’t tell. A quiet laugh escaped him.
“Yeah.”
You tucked the chart into the filing tray determined to keep your hands busy. His eyes lingered on your face.
“I guess,” he laughed again.
“She’s very pretty.” You weren’t sure why you had said it, and you wished that you hadn’t.
“So,” you nudged him slightly with your elbow. “When are you seeing her again?”
He didn’t answer straight away. Instead he watched you for a long moment.
“I’m not.”
You blinked, not entirely sure why your heart had skipped a beat.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“There wasn’t really anything there. I don’t think we were looking for the same thing.”
You nodded slowly, trying to make sense of his words.
“That happens.” you told him and an awkward silence settled between you. You forced a laugh softly.
“Well, I am glad you’re putting yourself out there.” You watched as his brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” you shrugged, “it’s good. You deserve someone. You deserve to be happy.” You meant it. For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just watched you in that steady, unreadable way he had when he was thinking too much, like he was trying to solve something that didn’t present itself cleanly on a chart.
“Yeah,” he said finally, quieter than before. “I guess.” You nodded, too quickly.
“Anyway,” you added, forcing brightness into your voice as you straightened a stack of charts that didn’t need straightening.
“We’ve got a full board.” It was the universal escape plan. Work. You turned away before he could say anything else and Robby watched you disappear.
Hi cutie pies, this is my first Jack Abbot fic, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy x
Word count: 2.7k
Content warning; Female reader who has hair. Talks of insecurity of age, and amputation. Contains Y/N Contains brieft sexual contact. 18+
Summary; Jack is feeling insecure, and you do your best to show him he has nothing to worry about
The emergency department had finally begun to breathe again. It wasn’t quiet, just less frantic than it had been for the past few hours. Jack signed off the last of his notes, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders as he looked up from the computer.
Across the department, you were leaning against the nurses’ station with a cup of coffee in hand. You were talking to one of the paramedics. Jack couldn't remember the man's name, but he knew he was younger than him. He was in his early thirties, tall and charming.
The paramedic said something, and Jack watched your face light up. You laughed, not a polite laugh. Not the kind you gave patients or colleagues. It was a real laugh that made your eyes scrunch. The one that Jack loved. He watched as the paramedic mimed something with his hands, acting out what must have happened on a call, and you doubled over, covering your mouth as another laugh escaped.The paramedic grinned at you like making you smile was the easiest thing in the world.
Jack looked away.He told himself he wasn’t bothered. Except you seemed so light over there. Young, happy and beautiful. He watched you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as the paramedic handed you his phone. You smiled at the screen for a second before laughing again. Jack’s stomach tightened. He knew he shouldn’t stare, of course he knew that but he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried telling himself again that it was playful, friendly and nothing more. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. “Dr. Abbot?”
Jack blinked, dragging his eyes away. One of the residents was waiting beside him with a chart.
“Sorry.”
By the time he’d answered the question and looked back, the paramedic was walking toward the ambulance bay. You caught his eye and your smile was immediate and warm. Entirely for him.
“You ready?” you asked twenty minutes later, slipping your bag over your shoulder and Jack tried his best to force a smile.
“Yeah.”
You reached automatically for his hand as you walked through the parking lot. Usually he’d lace his fingers through yours. But tonight, his hand stayed loose. You noticed.
The drive home was unusually quiet. The radio hummed softly in the background, some classic rock station playing a song neither of you was really listening to. Streetlights flickered across Jack’s face as he drove. One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting heavily against the centre console. You stole another glance at him. His jaw was tight.
“You ok?”
“Mhm.”
You waited for something more, but nothing came.
“You seem tired.”
“Long day.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled again. You watched the city blur past the window. Normally he’d tell you about an interesting case. Ask what you wanted for dinner. Reach over at a red light to squeeze your knee. But tonight there was nothing. You shifted in your seat.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
His answers came too quickly and your stomach knotted. You knew Jack better than you knew anyone.You knew the tiny crease that appeared between his eyebrows when something was bothering him. The way he rubbed absent circles against the steering wheel with his thumb.
The way he got quieter instead of louder. He’d been doing all three since you’d left the hospital. You reached over, resting your hand gently on his forearm. He looked at it for the briefest second, then back at the road. He didn’t move away but he didn’t turn his over to hold yours either. It hurt more than you wanted to admit.
“You know,” you said softly, “whatever it is, you can tell me.”
His grip tightened on the wheel.
“I know.”
Another red light, where usually he’d look at you and smile. He would steal a kiss or maybe two. But he just stared straight ahead until the light turned green. You looked back out of the window, your reflection staring back at you. You knew something was wrong, you just had no idea what it was.
By the time you pulled into the driveway, the silence felt heavy enough to touch. Jack switched off the engine but didn’t make a move to get out. The dashboard lights faded until the car was swallowed by darkness.
“You coming?” you asked gently. He blinked, like he’d forgotten where he was.
“Yeah.”
He climbed out slowly, his limp just a little more pronounced after the drive. You unlocked the front door and stepped inside, kicking off your shoes.
“You want something to drink?,” you called over your shoulder.
“Ok.”
You frowned. Usually he’d already be behind you, stealing a quick kiss while you busied yourself in the kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist. Instead, you heard him lower himself onto the couch with a tired sigh.
“You’ll never guess what happened after you left the department.”
No answer.
“Mrs. Murphy, the little old lady in bed six? She tried to set Mateo up with her granddaughter.”
A faint hum drifted from the living room. Not quite a laugh, not even a response. You glanced around the corner. Jack was sitting exactly where you’d left him. Elbows resting on his knees. Hands clasped together, staring at nothing.
“And apparently she had photos ready.” You laughed softly. “Poor Mateo looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.”
“Mm.”
Your smile faded. You carried the glasses into the living room, setting one on the coffee table in front of him. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he just thanked you quietly without lifting his eyes. You settled beside him, close enough that your knees brushed.
“So,” you said, trying again. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Pizza?”
“Whatever you want.”
You looked at him for a long moment. Every answer was automatic. Like he wasn’t even hearing the questions. You watched him stare at the untouched glass as if he expected it to tell him something. Your chest tightened.
“Jack.”
“Hm?”
“Where are you?.”
He looked over at you now.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m worried.” You turned fully toward him, tucking one leg beneath you on the couch. “You’ve been gone since we left work.”
He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.
You reached across the small space between you, rubbing your thumb over the sleeve of his sweater. His shoulders sagged. You searched his face. The exhaustion was there. But underneath it there was something else. Something that looked like fear. Real fear. Your stomach dropped.
“Jack,”
Your voice softened.
“You’re scaring me, please talk to me.”
His hand settled instinctively on your leg, warm and familiar. Like it belonged there, because it did. You covered it with yours.
“I don’t care if it’s work. I don’t care if you’re angry with me. I don’t care what it is.” Your thumb stroked slowly over his knuckles. You searched his eyes.
“Just please don’t shut me out.”
He looked down at your joined hands. Took one long, shaky breath. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, with a sigh that sounded like it had been trapped inside him all day, Jack finally looked up.
“I’m not blind.”
“Jack, I don’t understand.” You shook your head.
“I’ve got some pretty obvious wear and tear,” he gestured to his leg and you felt your heart sink.
“I am trying to deal with my mental load. I go to therapy and it’s working.” He turned to you, nodding his head like he was trying to convince you. Your heart broke a little more with every word. It took everything in you to keep from shaking sense into him. You wanted to stop him talking, kiss him and tell him how much you love him. But he needed to talk this through, you knew that even if it was killing you.
“I got so lucky when I met you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I am happy with the time we’ve had together. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Your whole body tensed and your hand slowly slipped from him. He noticed the absence immediately.
“What does that mean Jack?”
“I think,” He swallowed hard, his jaw tightened. “I think maybe it’s time we stop pretending this makes sense.” Your stomach dropped.
“No.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, like hearing you say that hurt more than he had expected.
“You deserve someone who doesn’t come with all this. Someone your age. Someone who isn’t carrying around thirty years of mistakes and bad habits.”
“I don’t want that.”
“But you should.”
“No.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended. “You don’t get to decide that.”
He blinked.
“I saw you today, you were laughing with him.”
“The paramedic?”
“He made you smile.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Really smile.”
“So?”
“So,” he laughed once, bitterly. “I couldn’t remember the last time I made you laugh like that. I watched you two together and,” He shook his head. “It just hit me. We just don’t fit.”
You stared at him, completely stunned.
“That’s what this is about?”
“It’s not just that.”
“It sounds exactly like that.”
“You deserve more than this. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“For who?”
“For you.”
“No.” You shook your head, tears burning behind your eyes. “You’re trying to protect yourself.”
He didn’t argue.
“You think if you leave first it’ll hurt less.”
He looked down at his hands.
“You think I’ll wake up one day and realise you’re older than me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Jack, I knew your age when I first met you.”
“I know.”
“I know your past. Maybe I don’t know everything, not yet. But I know enough.”
You stood up from the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.
“I choose you every day, and now you’re not choosing me anymore.”
His eyes were glistening as his hand reached for yours, trying to catch you and bring you back to him, but you stepped back.
“The paramedic,” you shook your head, raking your hands through your hair. “He’s proposing to his partner.”
Jack frowned.
“He was showing me the ring and the flowers he bought.”
Jack just stared back at you.
“And he joked that I was next,’ you laughed out a slight cry. “And I laughed, thinking about you picking out a ring, and the perfect flowers.That’s what you saw. And from that you decided to end our relationship? You didn’t talk to me, tell me you were feeling insecure? You just try and break up with me.
“No.” He stood up this time to reach for you, trying to defend it. To take it back, but he knew it was true. That was exactly what he had done.
“You didn’t trust me enough to have one conversation.”
His shoulders slumped.You gripped his face, pulling him to look at you.
“I didn’t pick you because I couldn’t find someone else. I picked you because you’re it for me.” His hand reached up to hold yours against his face, tears spilling out as he closed his eyes. Your anger had softened into something infinitely sadder.
“I love you, I want you and I’m always going to want you. So if you want to end this,” your breath caught at the thought of that being a possibility. You swallowed the ball in your throat.
“If that’s what you want then fine. But that’s what you want, not what I want.”
Jack's eyes snapped open, his head shaking side to side.
“I don’t want that. You’re what I want.” He kissed you, like he was trying to cement the truth.
“I am so sorry.”
You lean forward until your forehead rests against his.
“If you ever get scared again,”
“I’ll talk to you.”
“You don’t get to make decisions for both of us.”
He nodded immediately.
“I won’t. I promise.”
The bedroom was quiet. Jack laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. You slipped beneath the covers beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, almost shyly, his hand reached for yours. You smiled. His fingers threaded through yours before he turned onto his side to face you. His eyes searched yours, as though he was still looking for the moment you’d change your mind. You lifted your hand to his face. Your fingertips traced the lines beside his eyes, the silver at his temples, the familiar curve of his jaw.
“So handsome,” you murmured. He let out the smallest, embarrassed huff.
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I know.”
You smiled.
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
He looked away. You gently guided his face back towards yours. His cheeks coloured.
“You always do that.”
“What?”
“You look away whenever I compliment you.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“I don’t know what to do with it.”
“You could believe me.”
“I want to.”
“I know.”
You brushed your thumb over his cheek. His eyes glistened. You leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek. He closed his eyes.
“I love this face.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“It’s just my face.”
“It’s my favourite one.”
That earned you the smile you’d been waiting for all evening.
“I’ve missed that today.”
“What?”
“Your smile.”
He ducked his head instinctively.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise anymore.”
He loved you, you knew he did. You just wished he knew how much you loved him. You slipped your hand upon his chest resting your head against him. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. For a long while, neither of you spoke. His thumb stroked absent-mindedly over your hand.
“You should try and sleep.” he murmured against your hair.
“So should you.”
You pulled away, looking up. Your fingers skimming along the line of his jaw. The familiar scratch of his stubble brushed against your skin. You planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. Then another. His hand snaked up your spine, pulling you in closer.
“You know,” you said in between kisses. He hummed slightly to tell you he was listening.
“I still get butterflies when I’m around you.” You felt his chest rumble and he laughed lightly.
“Is that right?” He asked, combing through your hair, pulling your head back to look at you.
You nodded with a big grin on your face, completely unashamed of the effect that he had on you.
“I love you so much.”
He went still under you. His throat moved as he swallowed.
"I don't know how you do that," he said quietly. "Look at me like there's nothing wrong with me."
He exhaled, long and shaky, like something in his chest had finally loosened.
"I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes."
You gripped onto him, rolling gently, so you were beneath him, his arms bracing himself as he steadied above you.
“Jack,’ you whispered to him. You gripped his wrist, slipping in slowly between your legs. You bit your lip to suppress the moan that threatened to slip through you.
“Jesus, y/n,” his head dipped into your shoulder taking a deep breath, breathing you in as his fingers glided against you.
“Do you feel that?” You asked him, breathlessly. He nodded, lifting his head to look into your eyes.
“Yeah,” he moaned into your mouth, kissing you deeply. You reluctantly pulled away from him.
“That’s because of you Jack,” you stifled another moan as his fingers continued to work against you. Your grip tightened at the hairs on the nap of his neck.
“Before you’ve even kissed me, touched me. That’s what you do to me, just looking at you. Thinking of you, being close to you.”
His free hand slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the last of his hesitation give way entirely. Slowly, deliberately, your hand reached from him, feeling him through his boxers and he cursed again your mouth.
"Let me show you," you whispered against his lips. "Let me show you I mean it."
The rest of the night unfolded slowly, every touch a quiet argument against everything he'd doubted about himself. By the time you both finally slept, there wasn't a shred of that doubt left in the room
Hi cutie pies, I have been having so much fun writing for Dr Robby! So any request are more than welcome. I hope you enjoy x
Word count: 2.1k
Content warning; Female reader, no physical description. Student/teacher dynamic
Summary; You always thought that Robby hated you, but you couldn't be more wrong
You notice things. It’s probably why you’re good at emergency medicine. You notice when a patient downplays their pain, while gripping the gurney so hard their knuckles turn white. You notice when a patient's speech changes for a fraction of a second before anyone else realises they’re crashing. You notice when the nurses swap knowing glances before saying what they’re really thinking.
So naturally, you notice Dr Robby. You know which mug is his, because he will spend ten minutes looking for it instead of using another. He introduces himself to unconscious patients before he begins his exam, even though they can’t hear him.
You notice he rolls his sleeves to exactly the same place before every trauma call, like a ritual he doesn’t even realise he has.
You notice things, because he is brilliant. Working under him is like getting a front row seat to a masterclass, every single shift. He catches things that nobody else does. He teaches you things you had only ever dreamed of learning. You leave every shift feeling as though your brain has been rewired.You soak up every word, every correction, every lecture, every impossible diagnosis.
But unfortunately you also notice the way he treats you. Even if it is subtle. Anyone else would just say that you’re imagining it. But you know better. He is patient with everyone else. He's efficient with you.
When another resident makes a mistake it's always, “It’s alright. Here’s what to do better next time.”
When it's you, it's always, “Don’t let there be a next time.”
He’s never exactly unfair or insulting. Just cold. Distant.
You know that not everyone is going to like you. And you can live with that. You don’t need him to like you, you just need him to teach you.
The trauma bay is chaos. A car accident, multiple injuries. Everyone moves quickly and efficiently. Robby is calling orders faster than anyone can write them down. You manage to keep up, like you always do. Mostly.
“Pressure?”
“Eight-two systolic.”
He nods. You call an order for medication.
“Don’t.” He interrupts and you freeze.
“What?”
“Not that one.”
You look up between him and the patient on the bed in front of you.
“It will buy us more time.”
“It will lower his pressure.”
“It worked last week,” you remind him trying to make sense of the situation.
“This isn’t last week.” He snaps, arms crossed over his chest.
You raise an eyebrow, which you can tell he takes as a challenge as his jaw tightens.
“I said no.”
“And I heard you.”
“So stop arguing.”
“I’m just trying to understand why.”
“Now isn’t the time!” His voice is louder now.
“It would have taken a second.” You defend.
His eyes flash.
“I don’t have a second.”
“Does that apply for all the doctors in the room, Dr Robinavitch, or just me?”
The room goes quiet, nurses suddenly very interested in the monitor. Robby just stares at you.
“When you feel like teaching me something, you let me know.” You say, your voice hardening. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Your shift drags right until the very end. 12 relentless hours, but finally you’re walking to your car ready to put the whole day behind you. Until you hear hurried footsteps behind you.
“Hey.”
You know it's him, the sound of his voice, the sound of his shoes against the pavement. You debate stopping, hearing him out, but something in you tells you to just keep walking.
“Can’t you wait up,” he calls out again, and this time you do stop. Turning around with a sigh and arms folded.
“What?”
“I just want to talk for a minute.”
“You’ve had twelve hours. I am going home.”
“Please just wait. I owe you an apology.” His face looked different outside of the hospital. His expression, unusually awkward, his hand gripping the strap of his bag as if he's frightened it might slip off his shoulder.
“Ok.” You tell him.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I am your teacher, and you deserve better.”
You shrug.
“It happens. Just forget about it.”
“I was harder on you today.” He exhales.
“You usually are.”
He frowns.
“What does that mean?” He asks and you study him, unsure if he really is oblivious or trying to avoid an awkward conversation.
“Seriously?” You let out a dry laugh.
“You don’t like me.” You tell him, stating it as the fact it is rather than an opinion.
“What?”
You wave him off, trying to save you both the embarrassment of him having to try denying it.
“I notice things, Robby. I’m not blind. The way you clench your jaw when you know a patient isn’t telling you the whole truth. You do that because you’re annoyed. You do that every time I speak to you.” You point to the muscle at his temple. “You’re doing it right now.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“And when Gloria talks to you, gets on your back about something you don’t have time for, you shake your head just like you’re doing right now. Like you’re already over the conversation before it’s started.”
He didn’t speak, his eyes widening with every word you muttered.
“I spent weeks wondering if I had done something wrong,” he opens his mouth to speak but you keep going.
“But then I remembered how brutally honest you are. If I had done something, said something, overstepped, you would have told me. You don’t dance around criticism, you don’t sugar coat feedback. And I respect that.” You laughed, “But the fact is I haven’t done anything wrong. In fact I have done everything right, but you just don’t like me. Me.”
He watches you carefully, his eyes looking heavier than before. He laughs, dryly. You feel as if he’s mocking you, as if none of your words had really sunk in.
“You’re not as observant as you think.”
A humourless laugh escapes you.
“Really?”
“No.”
“You barely look at me, you flinch if I stand too close. Half the nurses have seen you smile more this week than I have in six months! I’ve spent months watching you Robby, working with you. Learning all your little tells, I think I am well within my right to have come to this conclusion.”
“You’ve decided you know what I’m thinking because you’ve noticed a new habits?”
That catches you off guard.
“Well if I’m wrong, don’t pull any punches Robby. Tell me. Explain it to me.”
“This isn’t productive.” He huffs, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You know what Robby,” you point towards the hospital. “In there I am paid to put up with your passive aggressive behaviour. But now, I’m off the clock and I am going home.”
You barely make it one step before he rushes to block your way, his hands coming out to stop you but keeping a distance as if to not box you in.
“I’m sorry, just wait.”
You concede, waiting for him to continue.
“I am hard on you,” he admits and you let out a sigh of relief from the confirmation that you hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
“I expect more from you. I have worked with hundreds of residents, some good, some competent, some have the capacity to become excellent.” His eyes meet yours,
“You walked into this department already operating at a level most people spend years trying to reach. You don’t panic, you don’t freeze. You ask questions because you want to understand, not because you’re trying to impress anyone. You challenge me.”
You try to hide your smile, but the praise from him goes right through you. It meant more than if it was coming from anyone else. The man who you aspired to be, pushed you because he wanted you to be great. He knew you were capable.
“I hold you to a higher standard because I know you can take it, I push you because every time you meet the bar I realise I understated where you could get to.”
His expression softens, “I see so much potential in you. And maybe my methods are questionable, but I need to keep you at arms length. I need to keep my distance.”
You try your hardest to understand, but the logic eludes you.
“But why?” You ask, and his head tilts slightly. He looks at you with a smile as if there was something he was feeling you could never understand. He takes a deep breath.
“I keep things short with you, because I have to keep myself from talking. I look away every time I see you because,” he shakes his head, “because when I look at you for too long it stops feeling professional. It’s not indifference, it's self preservation.”
You open your mouth and close it again. You were right, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing at all.
You step forward, your feet working before your brain can. You had noticed a lot about Robby, but you never realised that he was noticing you too.
“Robby,” He stops you, taking a step back to keep his distance.
“I can’t let myself feel the way I do, because you’re an amazing doctor. I have so much to teach you, and I care about you too much to do anything that could get in the way of it.” He shakes his head, and you realise that he's collecting his thoughts. He was never shaking his head because he was being dismissive, he was trying to focus, trying to ground himself.
“You deserve every opportunity this place gives you. You deserve an attending who challenges you.”
You grab his hand, trying to bring him back. He looks at you as if the touch, as soft as it is, hurts him in some way.
“I have that, Robby.”
“I refuse to be the reason that people question how you got there.”
You scoff in disbelief.
“Seriously? Robby you might be my boss, but you don’t get to make that kind of decision for me. His eyes fill with tears, and it's only then that you realise you’re crying too.
“I know I am a good doctor. I know I work my arse off everyday to prove I belong. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
“I do.” He replies immediately. “I care, because you deserve so much more than that.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“I know.” He squeezes your hand but it doesn’t feel like the comforting gesture it seems. It’s too heavy, too loaded.
“Then why are we even having this conversation?” You ask, tugging at him for an answer.
“Because I don’t hate you. I need you to know that I don’t hate you.”
You wipe your cheek, the wind nipping at the cold streaks down your face.
“And that’s it?”
“For now.”
The silence between you is heavy, painful. You laugh once, in shocked heartache. His jaw tightens.
“So we’re both just supposed to,” you wave vaguely between the two of you, “pretend this never happened?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looks at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. Equal parts admiration and pain.
“I wait, if that’s what you want.”
You frown.
“For what?”
“For the day you’re no longer mine to teach.” The words land softly.
“But until then, I won’t risk your future.”
“My future. Mine, Robby. So let me decide,” He stops you before you can finish. He steps closer.
“So you’d gamble your career?”
“My career isn’t that fragile.”
“No.”
His eyes soften.
“But you’re too important for me to take that gamble.” You search his face, looking for even the slightest sign that he’ll change his mind. You don’t find one. The air between you suddenly feels impossibly small. Then, without warning he reaches for your hand. His fingers slide carefully between yours before closing around it. Like he’s trying to memorise the feeling. Your throat tightens as a sad smile crosses his face. He lets go before either of you can change your minds. The warmth of his hand disappears almost instantly. He takes a step backwards.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor.” Not your name. Not anything personal. Just enough distance to remind both of you where the line still is. Then he turns. You watch him walk across the empty parking lot without looking back.Only when he disappears inside the hospital do you finally look down at your hand. You can still feel where he’d held it. And somehow that almost hurts more than if he’d kissed you.
Hi cutie pies, I have never written smut before, but I feel like there could be a part 2 to this that explores that? Not entirely sure, so let me know what you think my lovies. I hope you enjoy x
Word count: 1.3k
Content warning; Female Reader who has hair, no other physical descriptions of reader. Body and age insecurity from Robby. Age gap implied, but not explicitly stated.
Summary; An insecure Robby realizes that he is worthy of love, just as he is.
The kiss started the way they always did. Slow and easy. You were curled against him on the couch, one leg thrown over hip lap, the movie playing in the background now forgotten. Robby smiled against your lips and you slowly made your way onto his lap.
“You know,” he murmured against your mouth, “you’ve been progressively invading my personal space all evening.”
You laughed softly.
“You invited me over.”
“I did.”
“And now you’re complaining.”
“I’m just making an observation.” He grinned, pulling your hair to expose the skin on your neck peppering kisses until he reached your jaw. His hands found your waist, steading you as you shifted closer. His lips found yours again. You both smiled into it every now and then when your noses bumped. It was comfortable. His fingers brushed absentminded circles against your side, and you could feel the moment change. Not because either of you suddenly rushed forward, but because neither of you pulled away. The room grew quieter around you, and you rested your forehead against his for a moment to catch your breath.
“You ok?” you whispered, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He nodded once.
“Yeah.”
He didn’t sound convinced. You leaned back just enough to look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
For a long moment, he said nothing. His eyes drifted from yours, his smile fading into something uncertain. You gripped his hand in your, sitting them in between you both.
“I haven’t,” he rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed little laugh. “It’s been a while.”
You waited.
“Ok.” You assured him, your thumb rubbing his knuckles in a steady motion. He looked at you now, searching for any sign of discomfort or unease. He found none.
“And,” another quiet laugh, more self conscious this time. “I’m not twenty five anymore.”
You frowned
“Robby,”
He looked almost annoyed at himself for saying it out loud.
“I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t.” You told him.
He sighed and looked away again.
“I’ve changed.”
Your brow furrowed.
“We all do.”
“You know what I mean.”
His hand drifted unconsciously to his stomach before he caught himself, his fingers curling awkwardly against the hem of his t-shirt.
“I used to,” he gave a quiet self deprecating laugh. “I don’t know. Be in better shape.”
You glanced down, noticing the gesture more than the words. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. Instead of pulling it away, you guided it gently aside. Then, you rested your own palm where his had been. His breath caught in his chest.
“Robby.”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not, not at all.”
He looked at you uncertainly, still unsure.
“I have spent enough time in hospital mirrors to know I’m not exactly,” he searched for the right word before giving up another embarrassed smile.
“I’m not as young as I used to be. I've let myself go a little. Time’s got away from me.”
You kept your hand where it was, your thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt.
“I like this.”
His eyebrows drew together, looking down at his stomach and then back up at you.
“This?”
You nodded, smiling.
“I don’t think anyone has ever said that before.”
“Well I am saying it, and I mean it.” You searched his eyes, hoping that he would believe you. He opened his mouth to speak, you feared he would try to argue. You interrupted him before he could.
“I like that you’re real.” Your hand gave him a gentle squeeze. “I like every part of you.”
His eyes stayed fixed on yours, as if trying to decide whether to believe you or not. You shifted closer, smiling.
“And for the record, I’ve only ever known you like this.”
He blinked.
“I didn’t know the younger version of you,” you offered a tiny shrug, “I don’t miss him.”
That earned the smallest, surprised laugh.
“I never met him.”
You reached up, brushing your fingers through the hair at his temple.
“But, the man I know is kind.”
You kissed his cheek.
“He laughs with his whole face.”
Another kiss.
“He never walks past someone who needs help.
His smile widened as you cupped his face gently.
“He makes me feel safe. And every single one of those things belongs to this Robby.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
“So why would I wish for someone else?”
His eyes glistened, just slightly. He laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving and shook his head.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is, to me.”
You reached up, smoothing your thumb over the little line between his eyebrows.
“You don’t have to earn love, Robby.”
He closed his eyes for a second beneath your touch. He gripped your thighs, squeezing as if to ground himself. When he opened his eyes, he looked at you as though he was seeing you for the first time all over again. A smile tugged at his mouth. His hand lifted to your face, cradling your jaw with such care you felt your heart ache. His thumb swept across your cheekbone before he kissed you. Impossibly slow until the kiss deepened as though neither of you could bring yourselves to pull away. Every time one of you moved back for a breath, the other closed the distance again without thinking. Your fingers drifted into his hair, combing slowly through the soft strands at the back of his head. He exhaled quietly against your lips, one hand sliding a little higher along your back.
“It’s hard to concentrate when you kiss me like that.” You told him, he leaned in brushing one feather light kiss against your neck.
“Yeah?”
All you could do was hum in acknowledgement.
“Come here.”
You laughed.
“I literally couldn’t be any closer.”
“I disagree.”
Before you could speak, one arm slipped behind your back while the other hooked beneath your knees.
“Robby!”
The surprised squeal that escaped you dissolved into laughter as he stood.
“You know,” you teased, looping your arm around his neck, “for someone who spent the last ten minutes telling me he is getting old…”
“I never said I couldn’t still show off.”
“Oh, so this is you showing off?”
“A little.”
You grinned
“I like this Robby.”
“The one who carries you to bed?”
“Mhm.”
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the amber glow spilling in from the hallway. He lowered you onto the mattress with the same care he’d use if carrying something precious. His hand found yours on the duvet, lacing your fingers together.
“I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”
“Hold my hand?” You asked with a laugh. He nodded with a smile.
“You’ve held my hand before.”
“I know,’ he looked down at your intertwined fingers. “It feels different now.” Your chest tightened.
“So does everything.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again, slowly. Each kiss seemed to ask permission for the next. His hand never left yours. When he finally drew back, his forehead rested against yours.
“I need to ask you something.”
You nodded, “Ok.”
His eyes stayed on yours.
“Are you sure about this?”
There was no pressure in the question, only care. Only the quiet acknowledgement that if there was even the slightest hesitation, he would stop. You lifted your free hand, letting your fingers settle against the stubble on his jaw.
“I’m sure.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your palm.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this sure.”
His eyes opened.
“You don’t have to say that because,”
“I know.”
You smiled softly.
“I am saying it because it's true. I am sure.”
“Yeah?” He asked, his nose gently brushing yours. You nodded, unashamed of how eager you may have seemed. He smiled down at you as you dragged him in for another kiss, the room and everything beyond it disappearing around you.
Hi cutie pies, this is my first post on here and first time writing, so I don't really know what I am doing! But any notes or even criticisms are very welcome. I hope you enjoy x
Word count: 1.7k
Content warning; Female Reader who has hair, no other physical descriptions of reader.
Summary; The moment that Robby realizes he loves you.
The shrill buzz of his phone shattered the silence of the bedroom. Robby groaned before he had even opened his eyes, blindly reaching across the nightstand for his phone until his fingers wrapped around it. The screen glowed painfully bright in the darkness.
Jack: Need you in early. Explain when you get here.
Of course. He scrubbed his hand over his face, exhaling slowly before glancing beside him. You were still asleep. One leg had escaped the blankets some time during the night while the other was hopelessly tangled in the sheets. Your face was buried hallway into his pillow, stealing more than your fair share of it, hair sprawled in every direction. One hand was tucked beneath your cheek, the other stretched lazily across the mattress, your finger tips rested against the place he had been lying only moments before.
You let out the tiniest sleepy huff, the kind you always made when the room changed around you without quite waking. His mouth twitched into an unconscious smile. He had only noticed that sound a few weeks ago. Now he couldn’t imagine living without hearing it.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. Carefully, he eased himself out of bed, moving slowly enough that the mattress barely shifted beneath your weight. He had managed to escape without waking you, or so he thought.
The dresser drawer gave its usual traitorous creak. Behind him came a quite mumble.
“Robby?”
He closed his eyes for a second.
“Damn.” Turning, he found you blinking at him through barely open eyes, your voice thick with sleep.
“Sorry,” he said softly, “didn’t mean to wake you.”
You pushed yourself onto one elbow rubbing at your face before squirting towards the clock that you couldn’t possibly read in the dark.
“What time is it?”
“Too early.”
That earned a sleepy little laugh that dissolved into another yawn. He pulled on a clean shirt and you watched him for a moment.
“Everything okay?”
“I got called in.”
The change in your expression was immediate. Sleep still clung stubbornly to you, but concern settled in just beneath it.
“Called in?” you asked quietly. “Is everything alright?”
“Probably just short staffed.”
You frowned.
“I can come with you.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“What?”
“I’ll come.”
“You’ll come?”
You nodded once, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Something in his chest tightened.
“You’d voluntarily leave a warm bed before sunrise?”
A sleepy shrug.
“I don’t mind.”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head.
“No.”
“No?”
“You are absolutely not getting up.”
“But,”
“You need sleep.”
“So do you.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
“Yeah,” he admitted with a crooked smile. “Unfortunately the emergency department didn’t ask for my opinion.”
You made a face that pulled another laugh out of him. He crossed back to the bed and crouched beside you. Gently, he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face.
“I’ll survive.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
You searched his face for another second, as though trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. Eventually, you sighed.
“Okay.”
Satisfied, he gripped your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
“Go back to sleep.”
Your fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist before he could stand.
“Drive safely.”
“I will.”
He squeezed your hand gently before easing it away. Almost immediately, you curled back into the blankets, stealing his pillow again without even realizing it. He smiled to himself as he grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser.
“Robby?”
He turned. Your eyes hadn’t really opened.
“Wear your glasses.”
He blinked.
“What?”
You yawned, words soft and slurred together.
“It’s still dark, wear your glasses when you drive,”
Your voice faded into another sleepy sigh.
“You forget when you’re tired.”
Before he’d even found the words to answer, you were asleep again. Your breathing evened out within seconds. A tiny snore escaped you. Barely audible. Followed by another little sleepy huff as you burrowed impossibly deeper beneath the blankets. He stood completely still. You probably wouldn’t even remember saying any of it when you woke up. There’d been no dramatic declaration. No long speech. No “I love you.” Just a sleepy reminder to wear his glasses. Because you’d noticed he sometimes forgot them after long nights. Because somewhere along the way, you’d quietly memorized the small things.
His grip tightened around his keys. Something inside him shifted. Not suddenly. More like the final click of something that had been slowly falling into place for months. Just two people stealing whatever time they could between impossible schedules and exhausted mornings. You’d never asked him for promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, and he’d never asked where this was going. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped wondering.
He thought about the coffee that somehow always appeared beside him before he’d realised he needed it. The protein bars you’d slipped into his work bag after catching him skip breakfast one too many times. The way you never asked him to talk after a difficult day, but somehow always knew when to sit beside him in silence instead.
None of it had ever been grand. Just little things. Quiet things. The kind of care that never asked to be noticed. And now, a sleepy reminder to wear his glasses. Such a ridiculously small thing. But no one else remembered things like that. No one else knew he left his glasses on the kitchen counter half the time when he was running late. No one else had quietly collected all the little pieces of him that even he forgot about. He’d spent so long taking care of everyone else that he’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone looking after him. You did. Without keeping score. Without making a fuss. Just because it was him. His eyes drifted back to the bed.
His chest ached. Not with fear, but with certainty. Somewhere between the late-night takeout after an impossible shift, between falling asleep to the sound of your breathing, between you quietly making space for the life he never thought anyone could fit into, you had become his constant.
The person he looked for first. The one he wanted to tell about his day. The one he missed before he’d even left. He tried, briefly, to imagine what his life would look like without you in it.
The thought landed in his chest like a punch. Empty. Too quiet. Wrong.
It wasn’t casual anymore and maybe it hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe he’d simply been too afraid to call it what it was. A smile found him anyway.
He loved you.
You’d rolled onto your stomach now, one arm flung across the empty side of the bed as if searching for him even in your sleep. The sheets were wrapped around one ankle, trapping you in the same ridiculous way they always seemed to. He crossed the room one last time. Carefully, so carefully, he leaned down and pressed a kiss into your hair.
“I’ll wear my glasses.”
A smile spread across his face before he could stop it, his glasses already perched on his nose before he even reached the front door.
The apartment was quiet again. The soft click of the front door had drifted into whatever dream you’d been having, becoming part of it until. Your eyes fluttered open.Grey morning light seeped through the curtains, painting pale lines across the ceiling. You blinked sleepily. The bed beside you was cold. Robby was gone.
You rolled onto your back, pulling the blankets higher around your shoulders. There was still a faint warmth on his pillow, and it smelled like him. Soap, coffee, and whatever impossibly clean scent always seemed to cling to his scrubs.
You smiled to yourself. Your mind was already beginning to drift back toward sleep when something tugged at the edge of your memory.
A feeling. Gentle and warm. You frowned slightly. Then you remembered. A kiss. Not on your lips. Not the lazy, sleepy kiss he always stole before climbing out of bed. No. On your hair. You could still almost feel it. So soft you weren’t even sure you’d imagined it. Your fingers lifted unconsciously, brushing the spot he’d kissed.
He’d never done that before.
You lay perfectly still, thinking. When this had started, neither of you had wanted anything complicated. You both worked impossible hours. You both had your own life. There hadn’t been rules. No labels. No promises. Just stolen evenings, takeout containers balanced on his coffee table, and falling asleep tangled together whenever your schedules happened to line up. It had been easy. Comfortable. Casual. Hadn’t it? Your eyes wandered around his bedroom. Your charger was plugged into the outlet beside his bed. A sweater you’d forgotten weeks ago was folded neatly over the chair instead of shoved into a drawer. There was an extra toothbrush sitting beside his. He kept your favourite milk in the fridge now because he knew that’s what you liked in your coffee. Somewhere along the way the lines had blurred. You couldn’t remember when his apartment had started feeling like somewhere you came home to instead of somewhere you visited. Or when reaching for your phone after a long day meant reaching to text him first. Or when hearing about something funny automatically came with the thought, I can’t wait to tell Robby.
You’d fallen into each other’s lives so quietly that neither of you had seemed to notice.
Until that morning. Until that kiss. It didn't feel casual. It felt tender and careful.
Your chest tightened. You closed your eyes, replaying the moment in your mind. The brush of his lips against your hair. The way he’d whispered, I’ll wear the glasses.
The warmth in his voice. Your stomach flipped.
You loved him.
Not because of one kiss. Not because of one night together. But because somewhere between waiting up for him after late shifts. Laughing over burnt toast on the rare mornings you had together. Learning how he took his coffee without asking. He had quietly become your favourite part of ordinary days.
You laughed softly to yourself, burying your face back into his pillow. That complicated things. A smile tugged at your lips anyway.
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