Chapter Fifteen: Ever Since We Met, I've Got Just One Regret To Live Through
Warnings: fluff, humor, robby gets himself into a situation™ immediately, 18+ themes, smut, soul bonding finally!!!!
Word Count: 3.8k
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Robby hadn’t wanted a housewarming party. As far as he knew, Aria didn’t either. She didn’t like parties much. He was just happy that she was moving in. That she agreed to.
He made the mistake of mentioning it to Sloane as their shift started.
“Aria’s moving all her stuff in today at work, so I’m hoping to—”
“Wait, what?” Sloane cut him off, a hand on his chest as she blocked his path to the hub. “Aria’s moving into your house, and neither of you told me earlier? What the hell?”
Robby stared down at her and shrugged. “I thought she would’ve—”
“She didn’t.” Sloane huffed, crossing her arms like a petulant child. “You have to throw a party! This is a milestone! Y’all haven’t even fucked yet!”
His eyebrows furrowed, tilting his head, offended with a flush on his cheeks. “I don’t—”
“It’s okay, I’ll take care of it.” Sloane waved him off and left with a small swish of her white coat.
Robby watched her walk off, an indent between his eyebrows. He had no idea what he had accidentally gotten himself into. Though there was no escaping.
Before he knew it, the weekend was upon him yet again, and, for the first time possibly ever, he helped Aria set up for a house party. Sodas and liquor sat on the counter, the fridge was full of beer and seltzers—mainly for the younger guests because he would be caught dead before having a sip of one of those—paper plates and napkins sat on the table along with some coleslaw, salad, and Aria’s homemade mac and cheese.
“How many people do you think are gonna come?” Robby asked, almost joking, as he grabbed a pack of plastic utensils that had probably been in his cabinets for years.
Aria reorganized the sodas with the ones she thought would be more popular in front. “The whole emergency department.” She said plainly.
“But, really?” He laughed nervously and put the utensils on the counter.
Aria turned, raising an eyebrow at him. “Robby. This party is as much about you as it is about me. And, maybe it’s hard to believe, but everyone who works with you loves you.” She offered him a hand and pulled him close. “Why else do you think Sloane wanted to do this for you?”
Robby took a step forward into her space and sighed. “I guess I just don’t want to throw a wrench into whatever plans they might’ve had.”
“Baby, if they’re here, they want to be. We’re all adults.” She laughed softly, sliding her hands to his waist. She stared into his eyes through her glasses. Forced him to keep eye contact.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
It has been a struggle. To realize there were people who liked him. Who wanted to be around him outside of work. That he did, in fact, have a best friend in Jack. In Dana. In Sloane. At one point, in Langdon.
Robby captured Aria’s lips in a kiss. Palms on either side of her face. They melted into one another. Entwined. They were always supposed to be.
There were so many myths about how soulmates worked. The freckles on a person’s body were where their soulmate loved to kiss. They steal the face of the one they loved the most in a previous life. Their souls have been entwined since the beginning of time because nothing on Earth can ever be truly destroyed.
He would have remembered seeing Aria’s face before.
There was one Robby liked the most. Each pair of souls had an elemental push and pull deeply embedded. Fire and water. Earth and air. Sun and moon. Light and dark. Ocean and sea.
If she were the moon, he would shun the sunlight. Revel in the hum of night. The coolness, the gentle breeze. Never betray her. An acolyte.
If he were the sun, he would be ashamed when burning her. Loving with decisive pain. Exploding at atomic levels that no one but her could stand.
His light blinded, but gave warmth and light to everyone and everything on Earth. Her light was soft, people looked toward her in awe.
A knock on the door signaled Sloane’s arrival. Regrettably, Aria removed herself from Robby’s embrace to open the door. The smaller woman held three aluminum trays of food and brought them inside. She set them on the island in the middle of the kitchen, taking off the tops to reveal the smoked meats inside. Pork, chicken, and beef.
“I don’t know if we’re gonna need that much.” Robby rubbed the back of his neck. “We might have a bunch of leftovers.”
Sloane just stared at him weirdly. “The entire Pitt is coming.” She turned to Aria. “You did tell him, right?”
“Mhm.” She hummed.
Robby still didn’t believe it.
Sure enough, his house—his and Aria’s house—was filled to the brim with day shift workers.
Dana took the party as an excuse to dress up, wearing a silk red dress that had her husband, John, staring at her throughout the night. Trinity and Dennis showed up together, Trinity brought specialty seltzers that she shared while Dennis beelined for the food. Samira brought a tray of samosas and chatted with Trinity and Victoria. Princess and Perlah somehow engaged Donnie with gossip, similarly to how they would while on shift. Cassie and Heather mixed new drinks for each other when one of them finished. Sloane and Mel judged the new decor now that Aria had put some of her things up. Well, it was mostly Sloane.
Even some of Aria’s friends he had yet to meet came. Leah, her redhead neighbor he remembered meeting briefly. Noel, who apparently taught Aria a lot of recipes she used while in college. Then, Riley, who was more or less the clown of the group, from what he gathered.
The house was full of voices. Laughter. Light. Robby couldn’t remember the last time that happened. The last time the bones of his house really felt alive.
Jack showed up with a case of beer and a hug for Robby. “Hey, man.” He smiled, patting the taller one’s back before they pulled away.
Robby returned the smile. “Glad you could make it.” He ushered Jack inside. “You can put that over there.” He motioned to where all the other drinks sat.
Jack nodded, set the case down and took a beer for himself, cracking it open. “So,” He took a sip from his can, eyes scanning the crowd, “How are ya?” He smirked.
“Not much can get better than this, I think.” Robby chuckled, shaking his head. “How are you?”
Jack shrugged. “Haven’t wanted to go to the roof lately. My therapist says that’s good, but what does she know?” He joked softly.
“Way more than you on how the human brain works.” Aria nudged his shoulder as she slipped past him to grab a bottle of root beer from the fridge. “On a psychological level, at least.” She added.
Both Jack and Robby gave a laugh at that.
“Glad to see you’re not bleeding out again.” Jack smirked behind his can.
Aria rolled her eyes and twisted off the cap to her bottle with ease. “Nice to see you, too, Jack.”
Jack soon joined the others around the table, grabbing a plate to pile it high with food. More than half of it was already gone.
“What do you really think?” Aria asked Robby as they both looked into the dining room from the kitchen.
Robby licked his lips, throat suddenly a lot drier than a few seconds ago. “I think I’m really glad I met you when I did.” He stared at her and, not for the first time, in awe.
He could have gone to a much darker place that fateful day. Hell, he felt it. Felt his equilibrium becoming unbalanced, more unbalanced, if it ever was at all balanced. She pulled him from that darkness. That unknown.
Aria caught his gaze, eyebrows furrowed, and a light smile on her face. She pressed closer to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I love you.” She pecked his cheek.
Robby leaned into her kiss, her touch, the steady heat of her body. “I love you, too.”
The rest of the night went by nicely. Mel and Sloane snuck off to make out in the bathroom for a while, trying to play it off like they didn't. Mel had lipstick marks on her neck.
People began to leave as the sun went down. Some—Samira—decided to work Sunday so they couldn't be out too late unless they wanted to be sleep deprived in the morning.
Once every guest left, Robby and Aria began to clean up. Thankfully, their guests weren't too messy so all they needed to do was put things away. Aria packed food into containers while Robby collected the trash and took it to the curb.
Aria captured his lips once he came back inside, hands on his hips. “I love you.” She whispered, her voice more provocative than before.
“Aria…” Robby breathed, hands on her biceps as if to throw her off him if he needed.
“C'mon, baby.” She whined softly.
He nudged his nose against her cheek. “You drank. So did I.”
“Fuck off, we both had maybe one drink.” Aria argued softly.
Robby sighed. She was right. They both had quite a good tolerance that one or two drinks wouldn't hinder their decision-making or, somehow, turn them into completely different people, like it could for others.
He was just an over-thinker. And deeply embarrassed that he may prematurely cum.
“Alright.” He receded. Aria pecked his lips again. “But I set the pace, huh?”
She narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Fine. Whatever that means.”
Aria pulled him up the stairs into their bedroom and kissed him fiercely as she walked backwards toward the bed. Robby moaned into her lips, brushing his large hands into her short hair and grabbing a handful until she fell onto the mattress and pulled him with her.
He quickly gained his footing back and yanked her shirt from her body. His hands skimmed across the tattoos that decorated her torso. His eyes locked onto the cutlass between her breasts, which were still covered by a bra.
Aria took one of his hands and squeezed it. “How do you want me, baby?”
Now, if those words said like that weren't enough to get him as hard as a rock, he wasn't sure what would.
“Wanna taste you.” He ducked down to give her a peck and slid his hands around to her back to remove her bra.
Robby ducked his head further to lick a stripe between her breasts, following the lines of her tattoo. He could feel the hitch of her breath and taste the salt of her skin.
Then, he pressed wet kisses along the sword. Kisses that turned to nips. Nips that turned into full-on bites. All the while, his fingers made quick work of the buttons to her pants.
He only pulled away to yank Aria’s hips to the edge of the bed, causing her to yelp in surprise at the sudden movement.
“Fuck, Robby!” She lightly scolded.
“Sorry.” He smirked.
“You're not.”
“No, not at all.”
It was selfish of him. A little mean, even. As he grew older, lasted less, he took far more pride in getting his partners off once or twice before he even entered them. Their pleasure mattered more. And knowing he still had magic fingers or a magic tongue pleased him well enough.
Robby knelt in front of her, much to the dismay of his knees, and pulled off her jeans and panties with a little wiggle of her hips. He marveled at the sight of her cock.
He'd seen it before. When he helped her bathe in the tub or when she changed around him, but never so up close. Never took the time to see the details. If he was comparing, hers had a little less girth than his, but overall, were about the same in size. She had a nice patch of trimmed hair at the base, which morphed into a soft happy trail as it paved a path up to her belly button. Her cock stood tall, a little flushed at the tip, which beamed with a bead of pre-cum.
Aria took his pause as something else. “You know you don't have to.”
“Baby,” Robby breathed, “I've been sucking cock since before you were born. I really want to.” He pulled her legs over his shoulders and pressed soft kisses to her thighs.
Those words made her cock throb before his face. A flush ran down her chest. A small whine escaped her lips. He couldn't say things like that and expect her to be normal about it.
Experimentally, Robby licked a stripe up her shaft. He caught a taste of pre-cum and nearly shivered in delight. Aria's thighs tensed around his head. He pulled her hips closer, until her ass was nearly off the bed, and pressed rough kisses along her shaft, beard scraping against the sensitive skin.
“Fuck, Robby.” Aria hissed, eyes darkened as she looked down at him. She brushed a hand through his hair and pulled a little.
It only encouraged him to go further. Do more.
Robby swallowed her cock in one fell swoop without much difficulty. She nearly choked on air. Like he said, he'd been doing this for a while. He knew what to do. How to push certain buttons. He was more than excited to learn hers.
He pulled off until just the head was in his mouth and he suckled gently at it, keeping eye contact with her.
Something about the way she still wore her glasses, her earrings, her rings, her piercings, but nothing else made his own cock strain against his jeans.
“Oh my god, fuck,” Aria moaned softly, resisting the urge to thrust into his mouth. “That feels…” Her words devolved into a whine.
Given the limited partners she had, none of them had facial hair to quite the extent Robby had. There was Luke, who seemed incapable of growing any scruff and Matt who had a dusting of hair on his chin, but not much. In the midst of giving head, she learned, a full beard was for both fashion and function. A delicious friction on top of the wet heat of his mouth, tongue, and scrape of his teeth.
And Robby was a smug little shit about it. If his mouth wasn't full, Aria was sure he'd be smirking. He hummed around her cock and took his time. He wanted to take her apart and put her back together again with just his tongue.
He was more than halfway there.
“Robby, please.” Aria whimpered, breathless. She rolled her hips against his face and gripped his hair tighter, eliciting a whimper from him.
Robby pulled off of her and took in the sight of her cock now glistening with his saliva. She whined out of frustration. “I know, baby, I know. Don't worry. I got you. You just got to wait. Can you do that?” He rubbed soft circles on her thighs and pressed a kiss to her knee.
“Not really.” She huffed softly.
“Right.” He laughed good-naturedly.
He looked pleasantly debauched. Hair sticking up in random directions because of her hands. Lips reddened, but mostly covered by his beard. Flushed all over, but not as vibrant as earlier.
She looked even better. Lips parted, face charmingly flushed, pupils reactive and dilated beneath her glasses. Her chest heaved softly, breasts rising and falling with each breath.
Robby leaned forward once more, capturing her tip between his lips. His tongue teased at the slit. Aria bucked upwards in response, breath stolen from her. He wrapped his hand around the base and twisted his hand just right to make her moan. And cum down his throat.
He moaned around her tip and savored the taste. He could faintly feel the buzzing of Aria's brain in his own. The bond was starting. Just beginning to create pathways towards one another.
“Do you feel alright?” Robby asked softly as he pulled away from her cock. He licked any stray drop from his lips.
Aria looked like her head was up in the clouds. Rightfully so. “I feel great.” She said, giving a breathy chuckle. She pulled a little at his shirt. “C'mon, baby, I need you.”
Robby peppered soft kisses across her thigh until he stopped at her knee and pulled her legs from his shoulders. He pulled himself up to stand with a small ache in his knees and shucked his shirt off.
She'd seen Robby shirtless at this point, yes, but she never got tired of it. She admired what she saw of the tattoos on his triceps and the way the golden chain around his neck dangled against his skin and the leather band of the watch she was sure he never took off unless he showered.
However, it would be the first time she'd seen him naked.
Aria pulled Robby down on top of her, hands on his waist as she kissed him fiercely. She could taste herself on his lips and she didn't care. Her hands cradled his back, exploring the dips and curves of his spine. Oh, how she wished to devour him.
When they pulled away, they laughed for a moment. “How bad do you want me?” Robby teased, helping her move to the middle of the bed rather than the edge.
“So bad.” She said dramatically. But she didn't lie.
Aria hastily undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a small thunk, and unzipped his pants.
“I still gotta prep you.” He raised an eyebrow at her as she pushed his jeans down. He helped her take them off completely.
She drew in a shallow breath. “Better make it quick, then.”
Robby did his best. Reaching over to his bedside table, he grabbed a fairly old bottle of lube. It's been a while since he's had to use it. Years, maybe. But the type he got never went bad. Medical grade stuff. He squirted a bit onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm them up.
Watching Aria’s face contort into pleasure as he finally pressed two fingers inside her was the absolute best blessing on his eyes. She let out broken whimpers and whines as she tried her best not to writhe too much.
He almost got distracted, just watching her face. He crooked his fingers, causing her to let out a sharper whimper.
Not much of a straight-up moaner, huh? He could work with that. He could definitely work with that.
It seemed Aria had other plans because, as soon as he deemed her prepared enough and pulled off his boxers, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his thighs. His heart stammered in his chest as she looked down at him. The chain around his neck seared into his skin.
How silly of him to forget she was in charge.
She leaned down to kiss him, to mouth along the column of his neck, to capture the pendant of his necklace between her teeth as she lowered herself onto his cock. Her softened cock twitched between her legs.
Robby felt nineteen again. Losing his virginity at the hands of someone much more experienced than him. He loved it. His eyes fluttered. He couldn't see for a moment, hands finding their rightful place on her thighs.
Aria was in a similar position, shivers running down her spine and soft hairs standing up everywhere. Nothing compared to this. Forget the emotional connection for a moment, Robby had a big dick. Thick and long. Not too big that she couldn't take it or that it'd hurt, but big enough to push all the air from her lungs.
“Fuck, Robby…” Her hands were on his chest to stabilize herself.
“Fuck, Aria…” He squeezed the giving flesh of her thighs. “Fucking move, please, baby.”
Their brain chemistry was connecting on such an atomic level he could almost taste her earlier frustration on his tongue.
Aria moved after a few more seconds of adjustment, of getting used to the feeling. “Holy fuck—” She ground out as she found a pace that worked for her. One of her hands wrapped around his neck on reflex. “Shit, sorry!”
Robby wrapped his hand around her wrist, shocking himself—somewhere deeper because he truly didn't care in the moment—when he urged her to keep her hand there. “Don't be sorry, just—mmm, fuck—keep going. Keep going.”
It was a wonder he hadn't cum yet. Just the feeling of her could have been enough, but he held on. Barely.
Aria began a slow agonizing pace, not taking, but enjoying and reveling in everything she felt. Her hand was still around Robby’s neck. She squeezed experimentally and was delighted to receive a low moan. She didn't squeeze hard, just enough to make Robby a smidge lightheaded. He clearly loved it.
The pleasure was excruciating in the best way possible. True ecstasy. Pleasure so great Robby thought he was floating outside his body. Ekstasis.
“God, Aria—” Robby whimpered. His head felt heavy against the pillows, falling back and nearly hitting the headboard. “So—mmm—so fucking good. Like that. Fuck, like that.”
His eyes were barely open. He needed to see her. The way she rolled her hips, how her body twisted in a sensual dance. Just watching her could've been enough for him to get off but this was so much better. So much sweeter.
Pleasure mounted when their orgasms crested. Robby could feel the nerve endings sending signals to Aria’s brain and she could feel his prickly and on fire. She gripped his jaw rather than his neck, thumb accidentally catching between his parted lips as she struggled to keep herself upright. Perhaps he was caught up in the moment when he eagerly sucked her thumb into his mouth.
Streaks of white decorated his stomach and chest. He didn't even register it. Both of them were attempting to catch their breath.
Aria removed her hand from his jaw, sliding it back down to his stomach. “You alright?” She asked, panting. She knew he was more than fine, but it didn't hurt to ask.
“No.” Robby murmured, “I'm so much better than just ‘fine.’” He sighed, almost giddy.
Then, they burst out laughing.
It wasn't too much of an adjustment, their souls being truly bonded. Aria and Robby had a deep understanding of one another for a while. She had a sixth sense for when he felt especially bad during a shift at the hospital. If she couldn't spare the time to visit, then there'd be dinner and his favorite cookies—chocolate chip, because it's a classic—ready by the time he got home.
Aria leaned down, squeezing his arm just below his “amor fati” tattoo, and kissed him. Whatever leftover tension was in his body dissipated.
“I love you.” She whispered, breath warm against his lips.
For the first time, Robby really felt it. That shocked him above everything else, because now, there was no denying it.
Warnings: angst, aria whump!, imposter syndrome, otherwise pretty fluffy if you know where to look.
Word Count: 2k
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Aria hated herself.
Well, her brain specifically. She hated that she couldn't think of what to write. She was a hundred pages deep into her script, had everything planned out, but could not accurately articulate what she wanted to say on paper. Writer's block was the bane of a writer’s existence.
She sat in Robby’s kitchen, laptop set up on the countertop beside a smattering of different papers—her script treatment, notes, character charts, plot charts—pens, and a half-empty coffee cup that went cold.
It was the weekend. A late February morning, sun streaming through the windows to cast stark shadows that lit up the room forgoing the need for any overhead, artificial light.
Aria should've felt happy. Delighted.
Instead, she decided to torture herself with attempting to finish her script. Twenty pages in one day didn't seem so bad. She'd done thirty, forty pages in one day before. Until she started and quickly realized her brain was not firing on all cylinders. She barely wrote more than a paragraph or two.
She wanted to pull out her hair. She didn't.
Half concerned she would pull out too much and then her hair would end up looking blotchy and horrible. Maybe it'd look good on someone braver than her, but she didn't want to try it.
Instead, Aria let her head fall forward onto the table and considered banging her head against it in an attempt to wriggle out a thought. Any thought would be nice. She lifted her head, pulled her glasses off, and ran her hands up and down her face as if that would help her brain cells rub together.
Writing was a battle she waged with herself. Sometimes, after a stroke of pure luck and adrenaline, she won. Most times, even under the most meticulous planning and strategy, she lost.
Some scripts took weeks. Others, months. Years to feel perfect.
“I feel so fucking stupid right now.” Aria mumbled as Robby replaced her half-empty mug with a fresh, hot, full one exactly the way she liked it—with more vanilla than coffee.
He raised an eyebrow at her and squeezed her shoulder. “Says the smartest person I know.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. “Maybe you just need to take a step back, take a breath. Some time away may do you good.”
“I hate you.” She rubbed her face again even as her lips quirked into a smile.
Robby laughed softly. He ruffled her hair as he sat next to her when she didn't budge, a cup of coffee in hand for himself. “C'mon, baby, some fresh air will do you good.”
It was endearing to see Aria like this. So unlike how she usually was. Her hair was all over the place, her eyelids were heavier, her choice of clothes were much more casual—a rumpled hoodie, white crew socks, and soft pajama shorts—and her workspace was a mess. More of a mess than usual. Endearing and peculiar.
She broke again. Just a small crack in the porcelain of her heart.
It wasn't just that her brain was failing to form sentences, it was that she truly believed everything she thought was horrible so she didn't even attempt to put it on paper.
She didn’t deserve such praise from a man who literally saved lives every single day. He performed miracles and did not ask for trophies. Did not expect them. Did not want them.
Aria had two golden statues collecting dust in a cupboard. It was the goal, or, part of it. She had reached the peak. What now?
The stories she told did not feel groundbreaking, or experimental, or world-changing, or from the depths of a human soul. They were not worthy of trophies or awards or to be enjoyed en masse. They could never be.
She envied the great film directors of her time. The men who seemed so confident in their final product, who seemed so sure they would sweep the award season, who did not dwell within coincidences or happy accidents.
She’s going to die and never be remembered. She’s going to die and no one will ever utter her name afterward.
“Aria, baby,” Robby squeezed her shoulder again. “What do you need right now?”
With a sigh, Aria pushed her laptop closed. “I need you to lay on top of me and something soft to be playing.” She attempted to tame her messy hair by running her hands through it.
“Okay.” He took her hand and guided her upstairs.
His previously deep blue room was now spattered with color. A few of her green pillows and a furry brown blanket were on the left side of the bed, some pictures of them were on the nightstands, sweatshirts were strewn about, and there were some frames on the wall Aria helped him pick out and arrange.
She thought he needed to decorate, so they went shopping for some things he’d liked. He didn’t expect it to be fun. He didn’t expect her to let him pay for the art.
Robby let Aria move into the middle of the bed while he turned to the compact record player sitting on his dresser. He put on something he knew she’d like and turned the volume down, then climbed into bed on top of her. Chin to chest, chest to stomach, stomach to pelvis.
My life is a circus,
Hold on for all I bring with me,
You make me nervous,
Take my sincere apology,
Immediately, she melted. Nothing but serenity. If only a smidge of lingering unease. Her hands rested on his back, caging him in until she allowed him to leave.
“Better?” Robby asked. The vibrations of his voice traveled through her body delightfully.
“Much.” Aria drew in a deep breath and let her eyes slip closed.
For all of my oddities,
My recurring comedies,
I know I’m on a
Carousel spinning around, floating up and down,
Nowhere to go, will you break the spell?
Tether me to your ground,
Such a spectacle, you signed up for one hell of a one-man show,
Tangled in ribbons, a lifelong role
Aren’t you sorry that you fell onto this carousel?
Aria fell asleep like that. The weight of Robby on top of her was soothing. Grounded her. Made every single stressful thought dissipate into nothingness until her mind was full of nothing but bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. And sweet and soft memories of the man on top of her.
Robby took this as the perfect opportunity to breathe, too.
Their heartbeats and breathing synced until they were one. He could almost feel the tranquility rolling off her and seeping into his bones.
At an earlier point of their relationship, he would have worried that his weight would have been too much to lay on top of her. She was more durable than he thought. Encouraged him not to hover or lay half-way.
Robby fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and the pump of her blood. His lax body naturally curled close to Aria. If he could get any closer. Legs hooked over hers and arms half-embracing her shoulders.
Hours later, when he woke up, he was alone with nothing but the scent of Aria’s perfume that let him know she hadn't been gone long. It always shocked him just how easily she was able to wriggle from underneath him without somehow causing him to wake.
He scrubbed his hand across his face and checked the time. It was evening. He reached for his glasses and slipped them on before he pattered downstairs.
“There's my sleepy baby.” Aria greeted with a light smile as she stood by the stove. A mixture of vegetables and chicken were being cooked in a wok.
Under the warm kitchen lights, clad in nothing but one of his sweatshirts, some socks, and a pair of boxers, she looked more gorgeous than ever. This version of her was his and his only. Barely put together, bare-faced, bare emotions. It's his. All his.
Robby went for her neck, pressing kisses into the skin as his hands found her waist and pulled her against his chest. “You feel better?” His breath was nice and warm against her ear. His voice, low and rough from sleep.
“Mm.” She nodded, turning her head to peck his cheek. “What about you?”
He slid his hands underneath her shirt and wrapped his arms around her torso, trapping her against him. “Would've been better if you stayed in bed with me.” His lips traveled down to her shoulder, nipping over more noticeable freckles, eagerly tasting her skin. His nose mapped the same path.
“You forget I need three meals a day or my entire week will be messed up.” Aria elbowed him playfully. Robby dramatically winced. “Oh no, poor baby. Do you need me to kiss it better?” She teased.
“It is the best medicine.” He frowned playfully. “Denying me such a thing would be sin.”
She snorted softly. “Right.”
The stir fry was forgotten. Not before she turned off the burner. Better to be safe than sorry.
Aria turned in his arms, pushed his glasses on top of his head, and began to press kisses along his face. Cheek. Lips. Jaw. Nose bridge. Nose tip. Eyebrow. Temple. Beside his eyes where his crows feet lived.
Why would he ever leave this? Why would he ever let this leave him? He suffered from such sorrow in the middle of night when not covered in her warmth.
She finished her assault with another, firmer, kiss on the lips. He lightly shook his head in delight. He didn't even register that he did it. It was a natural reaction to their lips touching. Even momentarily. There was nothing greater than feeling her so close.
One of his hands cupped her cheek. She leaned into the touch like a dog soaking in the attention. Absolutely adoring, pupils wide and large. He was sure he didn't fare much better when the rolls were reversed. He had been described as a Borzoi on multiple occasions by one Jack Abbot and he, unfortunately, couldn't deny the uncanny resemblance.
“Aria?” Robby murmured, thumbing against her bottom lip.
“Mm?” She hummed. Her hand cradled his hip.
“I want you to move in with me.” He gave her a tight, nervous smile.
Aria stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Robby knew she was just processing what he said after her brain had been fried for hours, and yet, the pause still made him nervous.
He's heard the stories.
Many soulmates live life on the fast lane after meeting one another. Moving in, having sex, getting married, having kids. All within a year. Less than, even. That was a young man’s game. One Robby had attempted to play, but could never get the hang of.
He and Aria were going slow. There was no need to go fast. They had time. These days, he was simply glad he found his soulmate after years of searching and then giving up. She appeared exactly when he needed her the most. Perhaps not in the best way, but in a way that stuck in his mind like tar on concrete.
Robby shivered as Aria pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Stop disappearing on me, huh?”
She might not have known every sin he’s ever committed, but she knew the way his eyes looked when they glossed over when he remembered them. How he’d shrink into himself. How the burden of every past mistake would manifest as weight on his shoulders.
“I’d love to be here. With you. Constantly.” Aria smiled teasingly. “Bothering you.”
Robby squeezed her hip. “Please bother me. I love it when you bother me.” He nudged his nose against hers, a wide smile on his face. His ever-beating heart slowed to a soft rhythm.
Warnings: light angst, mostly fluff and humor, a smidge of jealous/possessive robby, an instance of being HRs worst nightmare.
Word Count: 3.7k
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Heather's first day back.
Nerves were all over the place. It wasn't like everyone knew why she left, just that she needed space away from the hospital for a while, as a lot of people do when they burn themselves out. The important people knew. Dana. Robby. Human resources. Not a single soul more. She trusted that none of them spoke about it. Dana, especially, was good at keeping her mouth shut when she needed to.
She didn’t talk to anyone at work for nearly five months. Only gave Robby the occasional update that she was feeling better. Better enough to come back.
Heather went through the motions of getting ready. They felt so alien, now. And yet familiar. Like stretching a muscle she hadn’t exercised in forever.
She got to the hospital at seven a.m. on the dot to be met with Dana, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she looked up from her computer. “Look who’s back from the dead. Just in time for new med students, too.” She smiled, voice teasing but eyes tender and soft.
“You’re earlier than Robby.” Jack commented as he slid up next to her, making his way to one of many computers at the hub. “Something exciting happening today that we don’t know about?” He raised an eyebrow, a light twinkle in his eyes.
Heather chuckled. “No. Nothing to complain about.” Then she tilted her head. “Wait, Robby’s not here? Usually, he’s here before everyone else on the day shift.”
Jack and Dana exchanged a look. She didn’t like that. Clearly, a lot had changed in the months she’d been gone. Michael Robby “Workaholic” Robinavitch wasn’t coming fifteen to thirty minutes early for his shift.
Her eyes narrowed as she glanced from Jack to Dana and back again. “Something happen to him?” Worry shot through her.
“No.” Jack shook his head stiffly and glanced at Dana.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” The blonde shrugged.
“Okay, then.” Heather squinted. They were acting weird and she wasn’t sure it was because of her or whatever happened to Robby while she was gone.
She went to the lockers and put away her bag and any other belongings she didn’t need on her person while at work. In the middle of grabbing her badge from her backpack, she felt Robby’s presence begin to do the same.
Heather leaned back to watch him from the edge of the open locker door. She was surprised with what she saw. Robby, who was usually coiled with stress and the weight of his exhaustion, was relaxed. His shoulders slumped, tension eased, instead of being tight and coiled. His hair was longer, strands falling over his forehead, and his pierced ears were decorated with small golden studs. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt under his scrubs and a deep blue distressed zip-up hoodie. Not his. She knew almost every single thing he wore with his scrubs.
This wasn’t the Robby she knew. If anything, this was the Robby she met years ago while in med school. Still, he wasn’t quite the same.
She closed her locker hard enough to get his attention and gave him a smile. “Good morning, Robby.”
“Collins,” He nodded at her as he closed his locker. “Good to see you back at work.” He said, eyes glittering with sincerity.
“I’m sorry for not coming back during the MCI.” Heather breathed, pushing her hands in the pockets of her hoodie.
Robby shook his head. “It’s okay. You needed to stay home. Totally fair.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture as they both went over to the hub and glanced up at the board. “We were able to handle it without you. More or less.” Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
“In that case…” Heather shifted on her feet. “Anything interesting happen between then and now?” Internally, she cringed at her own wording.
“Doctor Collins, are you fishing for personal information while we’re on shift?” Robby smirked, ducking his head slightly to stare up at her.
She shrugged. “Maybe. Did anything happen?” She nodded towards him.
Robby crossed his arms, an expression on his face that spoke of him debating whether or not he should tell her. “I found my soulmate.” He admitted before he walked off to meet with Abbot so they could go through the handoff.
Heather stared blankly at where Robby was just standing. He found his soulmate. His soulmate. At fifty-four years old. Had she noticed the red line around his wrist? Or was it somehow covered by his hoodie? She tried to remember. She couldn’t, too enraptured by the more noticeable physical changes.
Was it happiness flowing through her? Or pure, unadulterated bewilderment? Once upon a time, she thought she’d be able to break fate and be with Robby. He once felt the same, too.
Then, the cracks began to show. They weren’t soulmates. Would never be. Maybe that’s why they didn’t work. Or, they were too different to be together. Or, too similar. It was hard to say what broke the camel’s back, but she was the one who gave up. She couldn’t measure up to his expectations and she needed someone who wasn’t her boss, who constantly told her what she did wrong.
And still, Heather loved him. He was a good friend who would put his career on the line for hers and fought for her to be heard. That’s all they were. Friends. Friends who once knew what it was like to be with one another in the early morning light and under the navy blue sky, decorated with stars.
A sudden urge to meet Robby’s soulmate burned within her. What kind of person could be his soulmate? She had wondered a similar thing for a while, but it was more tangible to answer as he had finally met them.
What did they look like? Were they like Robby? Short-tempered, exhausted, carrying everyone else’s burdens on their shoulders, burning themselves out? Did they work in the hospital, just on a different floor? Actually, how did they meet?
Throughout her shift, those questions bounced around her head. Heather tried to focus on the patients, getting to know the med students and residents she had only been around for a day. She probed them for answers on Robby’s soulmate, assuming they’d know better than her.
And, Lord, did they know better than her.
“Aria?” Cassie raised an eyebrow, checking through a few charts to see which patient in the waiting room she should take back into triage. “She comes in here whenever she can, just to hang out. She’s pretty nice. Kind.”
Aria. Okay. Heather knew her name. That’s good.
“She brings food in whenever she comes. Forces Robby to eat. God knows he needed it. Thought he was gonna collapse from eating protein bars all the time.” Dana laughed.
Dennis smiled, a sort of soft smile. “What she makes is always delicious. And she brings enough for everyone.”
Perlah agreed. “She makes sure to bring halal options. I love her for it.”
“Sometimes I see Robby come in with hickeys on his neck,” Princess whispered, glancing at the man in question. “I just know she’s insatiable. She is on the younger side.”
Mel had to think for a moment. “She’s very competent at many things. I think that’s part of why Robby likes her. You should ask Sloane, she knows Aria better than anyone.” Heather kept that in mind.
“She’s so tall.” Victoria breathed. “I didn’t know women came in that size.” She shook her head and added frantically, “Not that it’s a bad thing. I’ve just never seen a woman that tall in person. Not that she’s, like, freakishly tall or anything, she’s really like Robby’s height, but still, she towers over everyone.”
“God, she’s so hot. I can’t believe she’s Doctor Robby’s soulmate of all people.” Trinity sighed.
Samira visibly brightened at the mention of Aria. “She’s amazing! Really listens to you when you talk. I swear I ranted about one of her movies for fifteen minutes straight and she didn’t cut me off, just kept listening. The next day, she gave Robby a signed copy to give to me.” She buzzed with excitement.
“Wait. Her movies?” Heather blinked, eyebrows furrowing.
“Yeah, she’s a writer, director.” Samira squinted and nodded. “Has no one told you that yet?”
Heather shook her head. “No.” How was that not one of the first things anyone said?
“Yeah, Aria Kaminski—”
“Aria Kaminski?” Heather nearly yelled. A few nearby nurses stared at her before going about their business.
She knew Aria. Hell, she was a fan of hers too. She and Samira had bonded over their shared love of her films and went to see a couple together over the years of their overlapping residency. She hadn’t connected the dots that Robby’s Aria could be Oscar-winning screenwriter and director Aria Kaminski.
“Yeah, Aria Kaminiski. Isn’t that crazy?” Samira smiled brightly.
“Yeah. It is.” Heather breathed.
She had seen Aria. The gentle power in her shoulders, the analytical gaze of her eyes shielded—or exemplified—by her glasses, the confidence of her stride, and the sound of her voice—a low timbre that was soft and yet sharp.
It was hard to picture that with Robby. Or it was way too easy and that was a smidge unnerving.
When Heather got to Sloane, they were in the middle of wrapping gauze around someone’s foot. “What’s Aria like?” She asked.
“That’s a vague question.” Sloane chuckled. “I’d tell you she’s great, because she is, but I don’t think that’s what you’re trying to find out.”
Heather pursed her lips, focusing on the gauze as she wrapped it. “It kind of is.”
Sloane took a breath and then pushed the air from her lips. “Aria is the best person anyone would have the pleasure of knowing. She’s a little aloof on the outside, but she cares a lot. Too much, maybe. She’s been burned before. Really badly, but when she really likes someone, she’s loyal forever.” She shrugged as she put some notes into a chart. “Unless you burn her. She’s pretty good about setting boundaries and following through with them.”
Heather looked up at Sloane once done with the gauze, pulling off her gloves with a light snap. “She knows her limits, then.”
“Sure, when it comes to that stuff.” Sloane chuckled as she sandwiched the tablet of her charts between her side and her arm.
“What do you mean?” Heather stood, grabbing the tablet just to go over the notes before she submitted them. They began to walk back to the hub.
“Aria pushes herself a lot. Stays up late writing a script when the deadline isn't for a few months. I've even heard of her staying on set when everyone else has gone home.” Sloane explained with a wave of her hand. It was a second-hand rumor she heard from some crew members when she visited. She believed it. It was in Aria’s nature to frantically do things in the middle of the night.
“Speak of the devil…” Dana pointed with her pen.
“And she shall appear.” Sloane finished.
Aria walked into the emergency department, eyes flitting about the buzz to find Robby and strode to him with a glass container in hand.
Sure, lots and lots and lots of people mentioned that Aria would come in with food, almost force Robby to eat a proper lunch, but Heather still wasn't expecting it. She didn't expect the relaxed way she dressed, in a simple sweatshirt, jeans, and jacket, eyes scanning the department like she'd worked there for years. It was jarring. Different from the way she'd assume Aria would move, act, or something. It was hard to pin down exactly what.
Aria greeted Robby with a kiss by the lockers. Tension that had built up over the shift eased from his shoulders as soon as their lips connected.
Maybe it was that. That was perplexing. The easy and immediate way he relaxed in her presence, because of her touch. He'd struggled for so long to have something like that, to put away his worries for a while, take them off his shoulders and simply be. With her, that was possible.
Heather watched, a soft and tender look in her eyes. She was glad Robby finally found that. She didn't feel bittersweet that he couldn't find that in her, because she couldn't find it in him either. Just genuinely pleased.
Aria practically pushed Robby into the break room, a soft hand on the back of his neck as she guided him there.
“It's unnerving.” Victoria commented, notebook in hand.
Heather looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Doctor Robby hates being told what to do, taking orders, is incredibly resistant to his superiors, but doesn't mind listening to Aria.” Victoria added, watching as Sloane soon joined the couple in the break room. “Or Doctor Abbot.”
Heather shrugged, nodding along. “People are weird around their soulmates. I'm sure you've seen that in the time you've been here, and Robby and Abbot are good friends as much as Robby may try to deny it.” She patted Victoria’s shoulder as she went to check in on a scalp lac.
People were extra protective of their soulmates, driving them to do things they wouldn't otherwise do. A bonded pair even more. The pain was shared. The feelings were shared.
No one could quite describe how it felt when a person's soulmate died. It was inexplicable. Completely and utterly void of proper words to define it. People tried. There was emptiness for a while. Existing as a husk of a human for a few minutes, an hour, days going about the motions to appear normal. Then the sadness came in waves, through anger, through tears, through harming oneself. How could one half exist without the other? Many thought they couldn't. Some landed themselves in the ER after an attempt. Some couldn't make it.
Some, after years and years had gone by, wanted to try again. Wanted to find love again, even if it wasn't their soulmate.
Identities aren't just made of big labels like race or sexuality, but can be tied to relationships. A man who’s been with his soulmate all his life will feel strange once they're gone, not just because of their death, but because that identification is not being fulfilled anymore. A part of him is missing. A piece, try as he might, he may never get back.
With a break between patients, Heather entered the break room. Sloane was nowhere to be found, likely with her own patients, while Robby and Aria were still in the room. The glass bowl was nearly empty, with a few drops of whatever soup Aria had prepared at the bottom.
“—I’ll even give you my Nissan, just let me take a look at your bike.” Aria’s voice was frustrated and more than a little pointed.
Heather migrated to the coffee pot as she pretended not to listen to whatever they were arguing about.
Robby rubbed his face, feeling not all that different from her. “Fine,” He stood up and bent down to plant a kiss on her lips. “But if you can’t figure it out, I’m taking it to a shop and you’re letting me pay for it.” He sped out of the room, acknowledging Heather’s presence with a nod as he left.
“Whatever you say.” Aria murmured to no one in particular as she slumped against her chair.
Heather chose this time to speak. “What was that about?” She waved her coffee mug vaguely to the direction of the door.
“Robby’s bike was acting up and he didn’t want me taking a look at it. For some reason.” Aria sniffed the air as she grabbed the glass bowl, snapped the cover back on, and stuffed it in her bag.
“Yeah, he hates when people even attempt to help him with anything.” Heather said into her mug.
Aria paused and really took in the other woman’s appearance. “I’m sorry, who’re you? I swear, I’ve met everyone down here, but I don’t recognize you.” She smiled politely, an inquisitive look in her eyes.
“Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m Heather. Collins.” She stepped closer and stretched a hand out. “I’ve been gone for a while due to… personal stuff.”
Aria stood up to shake her hand and—whoa—Victoria was right, she was fairly tall, easily towering over her, and Heather wasn’t short. “Oh, Heather. Robby told me about you.”
“He did?” Heather clutched her mug nervously. What the hell did that even mean? Robby talked about her to his soulmate? She didn’t expect him to. They used to be a couple. A lot of soulmates got territorial.
And, maybe, she was starting to feel starstruck. Robby told Aria about her? She knew who she was. She felt her hand—cold and lightly calloused with a strong grip. There must be a God after all.
“Yeah. He said you were a great resident with great instincts, incredibly kind regardless of how pissy he is, and that you’ve been through a lot these past few years.” Aria shoved her hands into her pockets and offered a soft smile. “Did I miss anything?”
Aria checked her watch. Her lips twitched. She grabbed her bag and gave Heather a kind smile. “I have to go. It was nice meeting you.” She nodded before she went on her way.
Heather followed her out, placing her half-empty mug on one of the many counters of the hub and traded it for a tablet to check charts and boards for patients. She’d been in the break room way too long. She needed to take on at least two more patients to make up for lost time.
Dana scooted up next to her. “So. What’d you think?”
“Of Aria?” Heather lowered her tablet and leaned against the counter.
“No, George Clooney.” Dana scoffed. “Of course I mean Aria.”
Heather snickered, shaking her head. “I think she’s perfect for Robby.”
For the longest time, she had no clue what that meant. People said it all the time. She’s perfect for him. He’s perfect for her. She’s perfect for her. He’s perfect for him. They’re perfect for each other. Perfection wasn’t real. No one could be perfect. And yet, a person could excel in an area their soulmate lacked. Make up for their flaws and vice versa.
Aria had a more strict routine than Robby and forced it upon him so they could both have three meals a day. At least.
And Robby, well, Heather couldn’t quite see what he helped Aria with just yet. Perhaps it was enough just to have someone to care for.
Across the hub, Heather noticed Aria was still there. She talked to one of the new med students—a blond named Nick—who was standing a little too close for comfort. Someone must not have gotten the memo.
To be fair, Aria wore a jacket and had crossed her arms, effectively covering the red line around her wrist. Med students did a lot of dirty work, busy with simpler procedures, so they didn’t always see everything that happened in the hub. Or he had, and wanted to shoot his shot anyway.
“Look, it’s been really nice talking to you, Mr. Flemming—”
“Doctor.” Nick corrected.
Aria nodded, plastering a polite, tight smile on her lips. “Right.” Her mouth twitched. “See, I’m in a hurry. I have a meeting.”
“I can give you my number. We can arrange a time for dinner.” He was adamant, cutting through Aria’s usual excuses. She did have a meeting, though.
“That won’t be necessary.” Robby’s voice cut in as he slid up to her side, placing a hand on the small of her back. A subtle claim. He appeared taller, more imposing as he stared down at Nick. “I can assure you, Ms. Kaminski is very much not interested. Now, don’t you have a patient to get to with Doctor Mohan?”
“How much do you wanna bet Robby’s thinking about kicking Flemming’s ass?” Perlah whispered mostly to Princess, but Dana and Heather could hear.
Princess laughed softly. “I think he’s seriously debating it. And Sloane would help hide the body.”
“Girls,” Dana reprimanded half-heartedly. Heather chuckled next to her. “Are we nurses or what?”
Perlah shrugged, a smirk on her face. “Sorry, captain. Just enjoying the entertainment.”
“Has anyone checked in on the bet yet?” Princess leaned closer to the counter where Dana and Heather were—also further away from Robby and Aria.
Heather squinted and raised an eyebrow. “What bet?” Dana let out a snort and shook her head.
Princess and Perlah shared a look. “There’s a bet going around on when Robby and Aria’s first time together will be.” Perlah whispered, low and soft in case, somehow, Robby appeared next to them. He had a habit of doing that.
“I put twenty on the six-month mark, cowgirl, with Robby coming into his shift with a limp.” Princess winked.
Was this completely and utterly inappropriate to do? Yes. Even more so with a superior.
Still, Heather grabbed a sticky note from one of the workstations and scribbled something on it. “Put me down, too.” She gave the note to Perlah, causing her eyes to widen as she read what was on it.
“Put you down for what?” Robby put his glasses on as he grabbed one of the tablets.
Princess and Perlah turned away quickly, busying themselves with anything to make them seem as innocent as possible. Dana whistled absentmindedly, not offering Heather any solace.
“Oh, you know, just a, uh—”
“PASTA WATER?” Sloane’s voice rang out, guttural and bewildered, unperturbed by the walls separating the exam room she was in from the rest of the emergency department.
Almost all activity stopped. For just a moment, to peer into central thirteen.
A young woman, who couldn't be older than nineteen, was sitting in the exam bed while Sloane, unable to hide her disappointment, rubbed her hands up and down her face. Then, she motioned towards her own chest and breasts.
“I should check in on that.” Heather pursed her lips.
Robby stared at Sloane still, eyebrows furrowed as he nodded. “Yes. Please do that.”
Thank God for Sloane. She may have to buy her dinner for unknowingly saving her ass.
Chapter Twelve: A War Is Still Raging Inside Of Me
Warnings: angst, mostly fluff, nervous robby, a smidge of whump, smoking, almost smut (oops), a little bit of rabbot if you squint.
Word Count: 3.7k
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For the first time in what felt like forever, Robby was nervous. Palms sweaty sort of nervous.
Aria had come home from press and premieres, eager to go on that date. She had no care for reviews. Just wanted to be with him. Maybe it was the February air or something else entirely.
When he picked her up from the airport, she tilted her head at him. “Your hair’s a little longer.” She stated as she pulled away from their hug and ran a hand through the longer tufts near his hairline.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Robby smiled bashfully. He didn't think she'd notice. “Wanted to try something new.” He shrugged.
“It looks good.” Aria nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
It looked good. The simple compliment had butterflies fluttering in his chest.
For years, Robby cut his hair short, close to the skull, for no particular reason. He didn't want to take care of it, didn't want to style it constantly every day, he didn't really know. It just seemed natural to keep it short.
Emboldened by Aria’s presence, or lack thereof, for the past few months, he had taken to growing it out, finding a style that worked for him. He had even started wearing small golden studs to work. He had never felt more like himself, more comfortable in his skin because of these minute changes.
The death of Adamson had shattered Robby to his core. Aria welded the pieces back together. Not to cover the jagged edges, but rather to find beauty in them.
Aria had picked Robby in the evening for their date, undeterred by jet lag or lingering exhaustion from the previous day’s work. She stood on his doorstep, covered in a long black overcoat, a multi-colored hand-knit sweater that was Sloane’s creation, and black leather gloves. Her legs were clad in a skirt, hidden by the overcoat, black tights, long white wool socks, and some knee-high boots to keep herself warm. Her hair was slightly wind-swept and exaggerated the natural waviness of it. In her gloved hand was a singular pale rose.
Robby blinked. He nearly forgot to breathe and felt severely underdressed. He simply wore a sweater—a white t-shirt underneath—a brown coat he had for a while, some jeans, and boots.
“This is for you.” She held out the rose towards him. Fuck. Even her cheeks and nose were dusted pink from the cold.
As if the rose might die if he touched it, Robby carefully took it from Aria and stared at the soft pink petals for a moment. When was the last time he'd been given flowers? Perhaps it was his grandmother's funeral. Or the one he couldn't attend, so Adamson’s daughter left him a bouquet on his porch.
They died there.
Remembering to speak, he said, “Thank you.” He stepped next to her and held the rose stem tightly. “Where are we going?”
Aria led him to her car, hands pushed into her pockets for the small trek. “A restaurant. Nothing too terribly fancy, so don't be nervous.” She said light-heartedly and nudged her shoulder against his.
Thank God for that.
While Aria obviously had a taste for the finer things in life, she appreciated a lot of modest things too. The restaurant she took him to was a mom-and-pop place hidden in the middle of the city that had been there for decades. One of her favorites, she mentioned. He found it mind-boggling how he hadn't been there, seeing as he'd lived in Pittsburgh most of his life and thought he'd heard of or been to every place in the city.
The place was warm and inviting with an intimate atmosphere. Perfect for a date or families to enjoy meals every Saturday.
He had to imagine this was where Aria and Sloane went after spending a morning at the gym to unwind and feed their sore bodies.
She was greeted by the host with a smile that spoke more of familiarity rather than customer service. “Always nice to see you, Aria. Table for two, right?” The host, Angelina, looked from Aria to Robby.
“Yep.” Aria nodded.
Angelina hummed in acknowledgement as she grabbed a few menus and led them over to a table in the far corner of the dining room. Instinctively, Robby walked behind Aria, a hand hovering over the small of her back.
They sat down, both shedding their outermost layer, and set their coats on the back of their chairs. Robby pushed up his sleeves just below his elbows and admired the loose-fitting wine colored sweater Aria wore. It almost matched the color of the table.
The flicker of nervousness was eased just looking at her like that.
A waitress, Artemis, warmly greeted them both. “Good afternoon, Ms. Kaminski. Always a pleasure.” She had dark curls that nicely framed her face and a wide smile that could light up the sun. “What'll you have to drink?” The question was more directed towards Robby.
Right. Artemis likely already knew what Aria wanted.
Robby quickly put his glasses on to read the menu, flipping towards the back where the cocktail list was. “I'll have the, uh, Agape cocktail.”
“Good choice.” Artemis commented with a wink. “I'll be back with those drinks.” She clasped her hands together and went over to the bar to put the order in.
In a soft whisper, Robby leaned close and asked Aria, “What drink do you usually get?”
She folded her arms on the table and chuckled softly. “The same thing you got.”
Drinks were soon served and food was ordered, allowing more conversation to flow as the alcohol loosened their tongues more than usual. Though Aria never waxed poetic when under the influence. It took way too much brain power to form even a single sentence when exceedingly drunk.
“Are you gonna let me pay this time?” Robby removed his glasses and set them on the side of the table.
Aria’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Nope. I'm the one who asked you out.”
He would have been frustrated if she hadn't already set a precedent of paying for their shared meals and the occasional gift for him.
And she may have mentioned the fact that, for dates, she thought it was fair that the person who thought of the date would pay. Of course, she was the one who asked him this time. There was always next time.
Robby took a sip of his cocktail, pleasantly surprised at how good it was. There were hints of fruit, yet it wasn't too sweet or else he might have had to ask for a different one. Bitter in all the right places.
He coughed a little as he geared himself up to ask some questions he hadn't gotten around to voicing yet. “Sloane once mentioned you liked cars. How'd you… get into that?”
The car Robby had seen the most of was a sedan. A black Mazda that was sleek and inconspicuous. Normal. Her daily, he presumed.
Aria wrapped a hand around her glass, thumb wiping against the condensation. “I learned from my brother. Jesse. He had a Mustang while I was in high school and did a million modifications on it. Still has it in storage in New York, I think. He learned from our dad.” She shrugged, a tight smile on her face.
“What's your favorite car?” He pressed a little further. “Or your favorite that you own.”
A more genuine smile spread across her face as she paused to think. “I have a Nissan GT-R34 that my brother helped me work on.” He nodded as if he knew what that was. He was more of a motorcycle guy. “I used to race it down Carolina country roads in the middle of the night. That was one of the only times I felt free while still living with my parents.” A glaze of nostalgia filled her eyes before she blinked it away. “Nowadays, I usually take her cruising on the weekends. Haven't done it in a while because of—well—everything.”
The shooting. The wedding. The press. She's had a busy last few months.
Not nearly enough time to drive around the city with no destination in mind. The wanderers were truly the most privileged. Who had all the money in the world to waste time?
“Hopefully, you'll have the time now.” Robby hummed.
Aria shook her head. “No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid. Got a script I need to finish soon.” She took a sip from her cocktail and flipped the conversation. “I heard you're a motorcycle person. What kind of bike do you have?”
Funny how Sloane loved talking about both of them—constantly—to each other.
Actually, Robby was momentarily reminded of the times Sloane used to ask if she could give his number to her friend. He always declined. Aria was pestered by Sloane about an attending she thought was the “perfect match” for her. Maybe they should've trusted her instincts.
“It's a Honda CB750-4. Had it for a while. It was my dad's.” The last thing he remembered getting from his father, if he had ever gotten anything else.
Aria hummed, impressed. “Those are so cool. I love older vehicles. I wish I owned a motorcycle. I got my license last year mainly just so I could buy one, but there's so many to choose from.”
She was excited to learn about one of the only things they shared that wasn’t heavy in nature. A love of older vehicles. Baseball was up there, too, but she couldn’t rant about the specifics as well as cars. The rich history of models, racers, or designers could be rattled off the top of her head.
He was strictly a motorcycle guy. When Robby realized his father left him his bike, he became obsessed with it. If he took care of it well enough, maybe he would come back. Be worthy of his attention, his love, his praise.
His father never did come back. Didn’t spare him the time though he had so much of it. Then, as everyone eventually will, he died.
Once the food came out, conversations flowed much better. Aria weaved tales of living with Sloane through their college years—of having to get her clothes sewn up by a Sloane who was still in med school after she ripped the seam down her ass, of late nights exchanging ideas for her stories, of making stupid PowerPoints and presenting them to their greater group of friends, of getting her first tattoo, of having her first estrogen pill.
In exchange, he told her countless stories of him in his med student years—of dropping scalpels on the floor, of drinking enough caffeine to get through a double that could kill a man, of stepping off the plane in Chicago for his residency, of winter nights spent with May and throwing snowballs at each other, of the first time he met Adamson at PTMC and the ego he had to think his help wouldn’t be needed. He was a kid and that meant he knew everything. Now, it felt like he knew nothing.
Once Aria paid the bill, she squinted at him and sipped the last few drops of her cocktail. “That why you’re an attending? So you can prevent the mistakes you made in others?”
Robby let out a dry chuckle. “Try as I might, the med students are going to make many, many mistakes. Execute errors I would have never even thought of.” He shook his head as memories of past residents and students alike resurfaced.
“Like what?” She leaned forward, eyes flicking about his face as a light smile appeared on her lips.
He shrugged, a more genuine laugh escaping him, “I mean, just recently, Whitaker managed to pop a cyst so horribly that he got covered in both blood and pus. Never had that happen to me as an MS4.” He squinted as he thought a little harder, “Actually, he manages to get lots of random fluids on him.”
Aria’s face became a mixture of a grimace and a smile. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I don’t know.” Robby chuckled. “He’s a magnet for that type of stuff, I guess.”
After finishing their last few crumbs and drops of alcohol, they left for his place. Soft music played in the confines of the car and Robby was subtly reminded that, before Aria, it had been a long time since he’d been driven anywhere. Usually, he was the one in the driver’s seat if he traded his own two legs for four wheels.
Another gentle way Aria cared for him, turning him into a passenger princess of sorts.
By the time they got back, the sun was just beginning to set. She walked him up to his porch and his heart stuttered. “Would you, uh, want to come in for a beer?” He offered, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood in the doorway of his home.
“Sure.” Aria nodded, an easy smile on her lips as she followed Robby into his house.
The heater was on, so it was pleasantly warm inside, no need for coats or jackets. She followed his lead and hooked her coat by the door, then rolled her sleeves over her elbows as she stepped into the kitchen.
Her eyes flitted around the house. She hadn’t been here many times. It was nice. Cozy. But bare. She noticed only a few personal touches—a worn couch, a few used mugs left in the sink, and several different coats hung by the door. Was his life really that bare? There was barely anything hung up on the walls, just a few pictures from decades ago, one more recent of him and Jake.
Robby twisted open the caps before he handed one to Aria and took a long swig of his own.
She just held it for a moment, playing with the frayed label, before she took a sip. She was horrible at hiding her disgust.
“You know, you didn’t actually have to accept the beer.” He teased.
Aria set the bottle on the counter and swallowed, shaking her head as a shiver went down her spine. “Really don’t understand how guys drink beer. Tastes like piss.” She wiped her lips as if that would get the taste out of her mouth.
“Maybe we just like torture.” He put his bottle down as well to fill a glass of water for her.
Gratefully, Aria took it. “Kinda like how more guys these days are religious.” She gulped down the water.
Robby lifted an eyebrow as he took a sip of his beer. “I guess you could say that.” He then motioned for Aria to follow him to the couch.
He sat down and put his bottle on the coffee table in front of him, feeling the tightness in his back ease a little from the cushions.
He looked up as Aria got closer. Instead of sitting next to him, she swung her legs over his thighs and, immediately, his face went red. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss, nudging his lips open with a thumb on his chin. His eyes fluttered shut as a muffled groan escaped him.
She was devouring him. And he let her.
Robby’s brain couldn’t catch up to all the sudden sensations. His hands found her waist as she began to move her hips against his, erection stirring to life. He could feel hers too, the underwear underneath her skirt did little to hide the growing bulge.
When she finally pulled away, both of them panted. “I think… I’m ready now.” Aria murmured, surging forward to attack the side of his neck this time. Her hips moved in languid circles, keeping up just enough friction to satisfy both of them but wanting for more.
“Aria…” He sighed, breath hot. “We… shouldn’t. We both have alcohol in our system.”
As much as he’d absolutely love to solidify their bond and have sex tonight, they both had a couple of drinks in them. He wanted both of them level-headed when they finally did. And a part of him was severely concerned that he’d cum in his pants way too early if she kept this up.
Aria whined as she stilled her hips, burying her face into his shoulder. “I hate it when you’re right.” Her hands slid down his chest.
“I know.” Robby pressed a kiss to her temple, beard brushing against her skin. “Trust me, I don’t want to stop.” A hand kneaded the meat of her thigh. “I’m glad you want to, though. I thought I was the only one.”
She pulled away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. “Of course I want to bond with you. I just… I had a lot of shit coming up. Didn’t want to do that before I, essentially, ghosted you.” She slid her hand up his cheek, thumb swiping against the skin under his eye.
“Thoughtful of you.” His tone was snarky, but he meant it.
“I know, right?” Aria teased back.
Both of them breathed each other in for a while. Robby admired the way her glasses skewed from the fervor of how she kissed him and enjoyed the weight of her on top of him. She wasn’t some petite, small thing that felt as light as a feather. No. He could feel the work she put into her body, her muscle, which wasn’t very apparent by just sight.
Aria admired him, too. The curve of his nose, the grey hairs growing in his beard, his large hands that always managed to be warm even in the coolest temperatures and were currently cradling a handful of her thighs, the redness to his face that swept over him every single time they got a smidge intimate. His stomach, too. Plump and grabable, and great for laying her head on.
Regretfully, Aria slid off him to sit. She loved being close to him, but she loathed sitting on his lap and being unable to do anything about it.
“Do you have a cigarette?” She asked as she scratched at the back of her neck, then adjusted her glasses to sit properly on her face. Had to blow off steam somehow.
Robby raised an eyebrow. “Not a very healthy habit to have.” He said dryly.
“Says the doctor who smokes cigarettes.” Aria countered as he went to the door where his jacket hung to riffle through the pockets.
Robby motioned for her to follow him outside onto the back porch. Smoking indoors was never good, partly for the others within but also the smell permeated through everything. Better to do it outdoors.
The backyard was small but he didn't need much. Some weeds grew by the fence, peeking through the snow that fell a few days ago. The sun had set so they stood underneath a navy sky, a crescent moon, and the light from the living room as it filtered outside.
He tapped out a few cigarettes and put one between Aria’s lips before doing the same for himself.
She noted they were Marlboro Reds.
Robby grabbed his zippo from his pocket and lit hers, eyes dark as he admired the way the cigarette looked between her lips.
Yeah, cigarettes kill, but—holy fuck—did Aria look so good with one, smoke curling around her face like a sheer shroud. Yet another thing unlocked.
It was fine. Like him, Aria didn't smoke regularly, which was unlike some he worked with. Dana. Jesse. Parker. Cassie. He thought he saw Dennis having a smoke by the ambulance bay once or twice. So, indulging in this little appreciation didn't seem all that bad, since she was clearly pretty healthy otherwise.
Robby lit his cigarette, momentarily casting harsh shadows and light over his face, pocketed the lighter, and took a long drag. He blew the smoke away from her as he let the cigarette burn between his fingertips.
“Robby?” Aria piped up after a while of being quiet.
“Mm?”
“Why'd you stay here?”
He deflated. Slightly. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, quickly taking another drag.
Why did he stay here? For the longest time, he had nothing. No one. No mother. No father. No grandmother. No siblings. No extended family. None that he cared about, anyway. No money to get him out of there. Wallowing through the rest of his rotation seemed fine with him until he met Adamson, and then suddenly, he had devoted more than Aria's lifetime to PTMC.
After Adamson's death, it was a matter of convenience, of feeling so tied to that hospital, to Pittsburgh, that it might've hurt more if he left.
“Like I said, I like torture.” Robby joked half-heartedly.
“Bullshit.” Aria nudged his shoulder.
He nodded, pursing his lips. “Yeah.”
It was like she was inside his brain. Knew his tells. Knew his nervous fidgeting like the back of her hand. He hated it. He loved it. How absolutely horrible and extremely exciting it is to be known.
He took another drag and expelled the smoke from his nose. “That hospital formed me into the person I am.” As he spoke, some tendrils of smoke emitted from between his lips. “It made me grow up. It taught me lessons that had nothing to do with medicine. It—” He blinked away tears as he looked at Aria.
Memories of that day flashed through him. But not the blood or the gore or the half-dead look on her face. It was Jack. Who stepped in when he realized Robby wasn't feeling well, who talked him down from his lowest, who ensured he'd be able to meet his soulmate, who checked her charts in the ICU, who still checked in with him from time to time about that day.
He was a good friend. A great friend. Something more than that. Not quite categorical. Family was too far and friend was too distant. Best friend was juvenile and rolled off the tongue numbly as an older man.
“It gave me new people to care about.” Robby whispered, eyes soft as he stared at his soulmate. “It gave me you.”
Warnings: angst, whump, drug metaphors, minor depictions of blood and violence, mentions of sex.
Word Count: 2.5k
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He was going through withdrawals. And he knew what withdrawals felt like.
Fuck, this was worse. Nothing helped. Not an “are you okay?” from any of his subordinates or his peers. Not a phone call. Not even a text message.
Aria had been gone a fucking month.
Robby had known it was coming. She warned him. He thought he’d be okay. He was far from okay. He worried. He worried that she’d get a car accident in some other country that he couldn’t get to immediately. He worried her plane would crash into the ocean, her body returned from where their evolutionary ancestors emerged long ago so he’d never be able to say a proper goodbye. He worried some deranged fan would sneak into one of the venues with a bomb strapped to their chest.
He hadn't worried about bloody noses.
She video called him late at night when he got home while she landed in the early London morning with tissue pinched to her face.
He frowned, his voice laced with anger. “Who did that to you?” He demanded.
Aria simply laughed. “No one, sweetheart. My nose is just overly sensitive.” Her voice was a little muffled and more nasally than usual due to the tissue. “Deviated septum and all. Dry air is a bit of a hazard.”
The explanation calmed him. However, it didn't completely put him at ease.
Deviated septums could cause trouble breathing and allow more dryness into the nostrils which would, therefore, cause nosebleeds. Seasons could affect the dryness of the air, as could a change of scenery and altitude. Hell, a fan being too strong could give someone with a deviated septum a nosebleed. They could come at random, too.
He hadn’t noticed the slight skew of her septum. To be fair, he was never in a position to notice it, because it could really only be seen at specific angles that he hadn’t put himself in.
“Let me see.” Robby put his glasses on so he wasn't squinting at his screen.
Aria looked at him like he was insane. “I'm not showing you my nostrils. I'm fine. It'll clear up.” She insisted.
He pursed his lips as an attempt not to push back against her insistence that she was fine. He had to remind himself that she didn't have self-destructive tendencies—physical ones—so if she said she was fine, then she likely was.
She was far more level-headed about her possible injuries than he was. The right amount of weariness.
Robby drew in a breath, then promptly sighed. “How was the flight? Sans the bloody nose.” He offered a smile.
If he remembered correctly, Aria started out the press tour in Mexico, then made her way to Japan and Korea, then Australia, and was now on the European leg. She'd be home soon. Not soon enough for his liking.
“Slept almost the whole time. So I'd say it was pretty good.” Aria said as she wiped at her nose and threw the tissue away. “Chris did too, but he was snoring like a madman—”
That's how life worked for the months she was gone. Phone calls, texts, and FaceTime. It could never replace her presence. Her being next to him, in bed, on the couch, or just standing close.
It really exposed how dull his life was before her.
With her, they'd attempt to make dinner together, but it always ended up with her kicking him out because she had a certain way of doing things, they'd watch a movie while they ate, they'd make a plan of going to a baseball game or to a bar that weekend with some friends, he'd practically beg her to play something on guitar. She never did. Sloane would occasionally come over with Mel and they'd have a double date, getting coffee and walking around the city, which somehow always ended up with them in bookstores, or they'd go for cocktails and dinner, which ended with the respective couples making out in the bathroom at least once.
Without her, Robby came home to her penthouse, raided her fridge and ate in relative silence save for some of her records he played to fill a void inside his chest left there by Aria. Then he went to sleep in her bed. Their bed? He stayed over at her place more than he did his at this point.
Sometimes, he attempted to reignite some neurons by strumming Aria’s guitar—a Gibson Hummingbird in a light oak color—but the chords always ended up sounding wrong and it wasn't the tuning.
At work, Robby was able to forget about Aria's absence for a while, swept up in the chaos and emotional turmoil of the emergency department rather than his own life.
Mugging victim, car crash, overdose, car crash, overdose, accidental poisoning, muscle atrophy, heart attack, overdose, heart attack, multiple hospice patients, broken arm, bar fight, overdose, a bottle stuck in someone's ass.
Over the years, he had removed many things from people's asses. Unfortunately, that meant he had to do his spiel about having safe sex to his patient.
Robby rubbed his face with both hands as he made his way to the hub. “Please tell me it's almost one.”
“It's almost one.” Dana smirked, adjusting her glasses as she typed on the computer at her workstation. “Patient in central twelve still intact?” She teased.
“Yes. But will forever be traumatized and may never have sex again.” He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter and glanced up at the board, taking note of his residents and their patients.
Dana laughed, shaking her head. “I'm sure he'll be fine. Just more careful what he sticks up his rear in the future.”
A nurse came up to Robby and had him look over some test results for the more recent drug overdose patient. This one was certainly lucky to be alive given the amount they took and how much was still in their blood. He gave the tablet back with the recommendation that the patient stay overnight or a few more hours for observation.
He was about to check in on Samira when he was pulled by Sloane into an empty room. She was a lot stronger than she appeared for a smaller woman.
“Bryne, what do you—”
“Aria talked about us!” Sloane beamed.
“What—”
“Look!”
She shoved her phone in Robby’s face and pressed play on the video displayed.
Sure enough, there Aria was, sitting next to her main cast member with microphones in their hands and the Sydney Opera House showcased in the background. She looked as beautiful as ever but elevated, more sophisticated, with her hair likely done by a team and her clothes specially picked out to come across as important and in control.
The question didn't exactly matter, but Robby assumed it was about her personal life with the way she answered.
“My best friend and my soulmate are doctors, so, y'know, it is kinda cool that I can ask them anything when I feel a little sick or whatever and how to get better…”
Sloane's eyes sparkled with excitement. “She talked about us!”
Robby blinked. Even Aria’s soul-mark wasn't being hidden. Why should it? Red soul-marks were cause for celebration, not shame.
Aria was famous, he reminded himself. She was an award-winning writer and director with a legion of fans who watched her films religiously. They'd realize she was off the market. Make a fuss about it online, either expressing their happiness or their jealousy.
The fame was easy to forget about when no one bothered her in public and Robby saw parts of her no one else did. Domestic parts. Chopping ingredients for dinner with her hair in a clip, sleeves rolled up as she stood in sleep shorts, music played faintly from her record player, and she'd softly sing along to the songs that filled the air. Or sitting on the couch, papers scattered all around her like she was still in college, trying to organize the thoughts in her brain and the ones she’d written down, writing an essay fueled by coffee and only a few hours of sleep.
Except “essays” became script treatments she had to turn into the producers she worked with so they knew the movie she wanted to make was worth making.
She traveled the world, walked red carpets, answered questions about the films she made and films she loved that inspired her own works, was more thoughtful than she let on, surprising viewers and interviewers alike with her insightful answers, because who knew you could be funny and smart at the same time?
Robby didn't know if he wanted to be included in all of that. The countless cameras flashing as he was pulled about carpets dripping in scarlet and those around him were dipped in diamonds.
He was content staying in their bubble, wrapped in her arms and the pleasant scent of cinnamon and bergamot that flooded his senses whenever she was near. It was softer, muted when he was in her home while she was gone, but still there. Lingering. Driving him insane.
When he was younger, eagerly awaiting his soulmate, he used to wonder what they would be like. Would he meet them in med school? Would they be studying to be a doctor too? Or would they meet somewhere else? A bar? The subway? A bus? Walking along the street? How different would they be? Would they have siblings? A family?
He imagined how they'd look, too. Would they have brown eyes like him? Or blue? Or green?
Did they think of him like he did?
Had they really known each other? In some other place. Some other time. A love that transcended borders and words to describe it?
Perhaps, in some other time, Robby’s soul was the one who shone under a spotlight and Aria’s was content on the sidelines.
This version of him was not at all excited to possibly be known by people all over the world.
So he called her on his way home from work, sliding his glasses on as he dialed her number. Still in England, it had to be morning where she was, with the sun high in the sky, while the full moon shone brightly on Pittsburgh.
Aria answered, voice laced with gentle concern. “What'd you want to talk about, baby?”
Robby shouldered off his backpack as he entered her apartment, key jangling against the others on his keyring. “I, um, I just wanted to ask you not to say my name when you talk about me in front of the camera.” He breathed.
She was quiet for a moment. A long moment that made him think she hung up. He glanced at the phone screen. Nope. The call was still connected and going.
“Aria?” Robby asked, mind racing with a million horrible thoughts.
Then, a chuckle. “Robby, I’d never say your name outright unless you wanted me to. I was gonna have this conversation with you later, too, but you beat me to it.” Her voice was warm, amused, and sincere.
“Oh.” He suddenly felt dumb for even saying his boundary aloud.
“So,” Aria adjusted the way her phone sat in her hand. “Not a fan of having your privacy broken?”
Robby chuckled, “Not really, no.” He pulled out some leftovers from the fridge and punched some numbers into the microwave. That'd be his dinner.
He assumed life would be crazy—crazier than it already was—if people began to recognize him as Aria Kaminski’s boring, normal, soulmate. Everyone always assumed being a doctor meant everything must be going well in life. Money was good, what else was there to complain about? Apparently, many things.
And being put in the spotlight, being known as something so secondary was frustrating. He loved Aria. Loved her deeply. But he worked hard to become a doctor and worked hard every day to keep being one. Even as it took a toll on him.
Aria’s voice got quieter on the other line, like telling a secret. “I get it. The publicity part of making movies isn't my favorite either.”
“So why do it?” Robby asked, voice gentle as he began picking at his food and taking small bites.
“Because, as much as I may hate being perceived,” She let out a small chuckle, “I love talking about movies. I love seeing people's reactions, I love when they bring up a point about my own films that I haven't considered before.”
“You have passion.”
“Yeah. Don't you?”
Robby snorted at the question. “Not as much as I used to.”
“No. I think it's the same amount. Just fogged up by plenty of other, more intense feelings.”
“Right.” He drew in a breath.
It was a wonder how easily Aria was able to cut to the very heart of him. No fuss. No blood. No mess. Just a careful cracking of his shell until his soft center was revealed.
As Robby ate the rest of his dinner, they talked about lighter things. About the questions Aria was more excited to answer, the things she saw during her travels—she was really interested in taking a ride on the London Eye and possibly reciting some derogatory verses from Hamilton about England in front of Buckingham Palace—and he talked about his day, less exciting, but much more stressful.
“Hey, Robby?” Aria asked gently.
“Hm?” He had just put his dish in the sink and changed into more comfortable clothes that he'd go to sleep in, glasses still perched on his nose, shielding his tired eyes.
“Do you wanna go on a real date when I get home?”
Robby almost choked on his own saliva. “A… a real date?”
“Yeah, like I take you out to dinner or something.” She clarified, amused by his surprise.
It struck him all a sudden that they hadn't had one of those yet. Months had gone by, the new year was in full swing already, and they hadn't even gone on an official date.
They'd done things a little out of order. He'd met all, or most, of her family, had seen each other naked multiple times, nearly saw her die, and now she asked him on a date. Most people did that first. They weren't most people and would likely never be.
A date sounded so silly after the things they've been through. Yet caused a small thrill of excitement to run down his spine. What would a date with Aria even look like? Similar to the nights spent having dinner at her apartment? Or would it be more intimate somehow? More tangible?
Also silly because Robby couldn't remember the last time he'd gone on a date. It had to have been years. A decade maybe. Working at PTMC didn't allow for much free time. Further than that, he didn't feel as desirable as he used to be. Sometimes, moms flirted with him in the hospital, that's how he ended up with Jake, but he was picky about that. His baggage wasn't meant for just anyone to pick up.
“That sounds nice.” Robby murmured, quiet with a warmth bubbling in his chest.
“Good. Glad you think so.” He could hear the smile in Aria’s voice.
Warnings: a smidge of angst, mostly fluff, light smut (hand job), myrna is her own warning.
Word Count: 4.5k
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The Pitt was always stressful. Some days were better than others. Most days were worse than others.
Already, Robby helped treat a burning victim from a fire downtown—thankfully, he was the only one terribly hurt and the few others caught in the flames had more minor burns—a young woman who overdosed on some new street drug that also happened to be laced with fentanyl, and an older man who crashed his car and broke a few ribs. He was able to pull through.
And Robby was tired. Very tired and he was only halfway through his shift.
Between patients, he texted Aria.
robby: how’s writing going?
aria: i feel like a caveman, smashing two rocks together.
robby: not good then?
aria: not good.
aria: how're you doing?
robby: oh, y'know, i love treating blunt force trauma.
aria: me too. i might actually give myself blunt force trauma at this point. if i smashed my head against my laptop, would that work?
Robby snorted and shook his head. He didn't realize the soft smile appearing on his face.
robby: i don't think that'll work but you might get a concussion.
aria: close enough.
“I really hope that's your soulmate, or else I'd be worried.” Dana commented, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Robby’s face went red as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Do you need something from me, warden?” He narrowed his eyes on her.
She shrugged, “No, no, not right now. Don't mind me.” She smirked.
Robby shook his head and went to make some quick rounds. Samira was in central nine, doing a quick exam. Trinity was in trauma with Mel and Garcia. Dennis was in psych one with a repeat patient—was that the Kraken? He didn't want to know. Sloane was treating a little girl for asthma, or so it looked from the outside of south twenty.
Back at boards, he leaned against the counter and rubbed his face. He took a few deep breaths. Everything was going more or less well. They hadn't lost a patient yet. They would. Eventually.
“Feeling your age, Robert?” Sloane slid next to him, nudging his shoulder.
Robby looked at her, narrowing his eyes with a smidge of humor in his voice. “Not my name, Doctor Bryne. How old do you think I am?”
Sloane didn't say anything for a few seconds and just stared at him. “Gilded age? Anyway, the little girl in south twenty is good to go. She just had a severe asthma attack for the first time. I wrote her a note, both for the school and for an inhaler prescription.”
He stared back, partly glaring, partly in bewilderment. He shook his head and sighed, “You wanna check in on Mel and Santos in trauma one? They stabilized the patient, but it might be good to go over how they did it.” He suggested as he put on his glasses and grabbed an iPad to take a look at the charts for Sloane's patient.
Sloane was his only senior resident left. Langdon was in rehab after a little finagling and Collins was taking an extended leave after, well, everything. So that put a little more responsibility on Sloane's shoulders. She seemed to be adjusting well. Or was acting like she was.
“I would love to check in on my favorite pair of lesbians.” She smirked and slid away from the station into trauma one.
Robby shook his head at her and focused on the charts again. Sloane was quite good at doing quick, concise notes, so it was always a pleasure to read them.
He made a few adjustments, very few, and signed off on the paperwork. He looked over his glasses through the windows of trauma one, subtly watching Mel and Trinity go over their methodology to Sloane. The patient was resting, as easily as they could, off to the side of them on the bed.
Dana patted Robby's shoulder with her knuckles. “Soulmate. Three o’clock.”
He blinked and looked up to where she pointed. Sure enough, Aria walked over to him with a square bag on her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back with a clip. She wore that same brown leather jacket she loved to wear over a sweater and some loose jeans, slightly ripped, to show off her leg tattoos.
“What are you doing here?” He set the iPad down, sliding a hand up her shoulder.
Aria patted her bag. “I thought I'd force you to eat lunch.”
“So you bought us pizza.” He glanced down at her bag. It was bright red, like most pizza delivery boys had.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “No. Who do you think I am? I made you guys pizza.”
“Oh, I could kiss you, sweetheart.” Dana sighed.
Robby willfully ignored that comment and focused more on the fact that Aria made them pizza, knowing he’d be more inclined to eat it if she made it. More so that she took the time out of her day, from trying her best to get some writing done, to care for the dough, to knead it, to top each one off, and crisp it to perfection.
“Alright. C’mon.” He took Aria to the staff lounge. “I’ll let everyone know we have pizza waiting. What’s on ‘em?”
She set the bag on one of the tables and unzipped them. “I made two meatlover’s and one that’s half cheese, half veggie. Sloane once told me one of the nurses here was a hijabi so I didn’t want to make all meat lovers. Plus, some people prefer just cheese, which is,” She shook her head with a breath, “Unrelatable for me.”
The pizzas looked well-made, too. Like a professional did them. Each was circular, but cut into small squares. Chicago-style thin crust with oregano sprinkled onto each one. She even grabbed some paper plates from the bag and put them beside the pizzas.
For once, Robby was going to have a proper lunch during his shift instead of many, many, many half-eaten granola bars that he snuck bites of between patients.
He took a plate and grabbed two slices from one of the meat lovers pizzas. They were still fairly hot which surprised him. That bag worked wonders. He bit into a slice and groaned as the flavor exploded on his tongue. The sauce wasn’t too sweet and was spiced to perfection, the cheese literally melted in his mouth, and the mixture of pepperoni, bacon, and sausage snapped against his tongue, working well with the red sauce.
Fuck the bag. Aria worked wonders.
Memories of late nights at Stroger resurfaced. Of getting the closest pizza joint delivered to the hospital when he worked a double shift and gorging himself on an entire pie to fuel himself for the rest of the night.
Aria leaned against the counters, arms crossed with a smirk on her lips. “And what do you think?”
Robby took two more large bites, the slice suddenly gone, before he swallowed and answered. “I think you need to make me deep dish. And solely me.”
“That can be arranged.” She laughed and adjusted her glasses.
Dennis slipped into the room and froze when he found Aria and Robby inside. “Oh. I, uh, heard there was pizza in here.” He nearly pivoted to run back outside.
“Whitaker,” Robby’s voice changed. More authority bleeding into it than Aria had ever heard. “Eat. It’s here for a reason, huh?” He said as he threw his plate and a used napkin into the trash.
Clearly, Dennis was hungry. He nodded and grabbed quite a few slices as he sat down and took such large bites that his cheeks puffed. He looked a little like a squirrel.
Robby glanced at his watch before he pressed a kiss to Aria’s cheek. “I got to throw myself back into the fire. I’ll see ya.” He left the staff lounge.
Aria watched him leave, stealing a glance at how his cargo pants hung from his hips. Then, she turned to Dennis, who was really enjoying the food in front of him. It made her heart fill with joy. Making things for people and watching them enjoy it always did. She was vindicated, even if there was a lingering disbelief there.
Dennis seemed to remember there was another person in the room and coughed, hastily wiping his mouth. “So are you Doctor Robby’s daughter or…?”
Internally, she laughed. He was certainly old enough to be her father, and, sure, there was a smidge of resemblance only in their shared dark hair and light skin, but there was no real throughline to assume they were possibly related besides that and their closeness. No other similar features.
The way they carried themselves was different. There was a gentle command in the set of Robby’s shoulders, clearly in control but not controlling. His spine, however, held a lot of his fatigue and would cause him to hunch as the day wore on. Aria stood tall, owning her height, but relaxed. She did not carry herself as if she were better than anyone else, did not automatically assume she was the smartest in the room, and exuded an aura that let most people know they could talk to her about anything.
“No. We’re soulmates.”
Dennis choked, seemingly on nothing, which turned into a small coughing fit.
It was nice to know not everyone in the Pitt knew of hers and Robby’s relationship. She assumed part of that was the fact that the PittFest incident was so hectic that not everyone knew of every patient that went through those doors that day.
“And who’re you?” She asked as she observed the mouse-boy and the way his face went completely red.
“Dennis. Whitaker. I’m a, uh,” He coughed again, clearing his throat. “I’m a student doctor. Only been here a month.”
Aria hummed. “How do you like it?”
“It’s a lot. I’m not completely sure emergency medicine is for me.” He admitted as he wrung his napkin between his fingers. He was older than her by a few years, yet nervous to be meeting his superior’s soulmate.
“That’s understandable. I’m not sure how Robby does it.” She pursed her lips. The thing was Robby did do it, but it was wearing him down. She only hoped he’d take her advice, and his friend’s advice, and get some help.
“Whitaker, a patient needs you in north five.” Sloane came into the staff room with Trinity on her tail, who made a beeline for the pizza table.
“Got it.” Dennis threw away his trash and nearly ran out of there.
Aria brightened at the appearance of Sloane. “Hey, babe.” She smiled, hugging her friend tightly. Their height difference was especially apparent whenever they were particularly close.
“Hey,” Sloane smiled and then smacked Aria’s arm, “I can’t believe you never brought me pizza before.” She glanced at Trinity, who was enjoying a slice of meatlover’s, cheese, and veggie. “You’d better save some for Perlah and Jesse!”
Trinity paused and threw up her hands. “I will! Not my fault if this shit magically disappears before they get the chance to try it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Aria asked, “Jesse?”
“Nurse Jesse. He’s a vegetarian.” Sloane explained matter-of-factly.
Soon enough, everyone began to make their rounds into the staff lounge for a slice or two of the pizza, giving Aria a chance to learn a little bit about the people Robby worked with.
Trinity Santos was an intern, which Aria learned meant she was just starting off her residency, and had a big sarcastic streak in her which could be funny at times. Although not always. Aria could tell the sarcasm was a front for something hidden that she’d probably never know, so she didn’t let it bother her much.
Instead, she matched it.
“Can’t believe Doctor Robby’s soulmate is such a good cook. Do you sit at home and be a housewife all day?” Trinity teased.
“Unfortunately, I’m pretty busy wearing the pants in the relationship and making more than enough money for the both of us.” Aria countered with a smile that could kill.
That had Trinity attempting, and failing, to hide her blush.
Samira Mohan came in next, mostly quiet. She was in her second year of residency and, right off the bat, Aria could see similarities between her and Robby. Something about those big brown eyes and how dark they were matched one another perfectly. It might’ve even been the shape of them. Or the slightly disgruntled nature of their hair.
“Are you the director of Lavender?” Samira suddenly asked. Periodically, she stared at Aria, unable to place where she might have seen her before.
Aria flushed, taken aback by the mention of her debut film. “Yes. I am.”
Samira took a breath. “Oh my god. I watched that movie religiously when it first came out. I have a collection of all the tickets. I think I saw it in theaters maybe fifteen times. I just love the fact that there’s both a lesbian and gay relationship in the film rather than just one or the other. And the use of color—” She cut herself off and smiled bashfully, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s nice to hear people like what I make.” Aria shook her head and gave her a reassuring smile.
Victoria Javadi and Cassie McKay came in as a pair. Victoria was a third-year med student and Cassie was a second-year resident. Both of them were mostly in triage and chairs where the less fatal patients were treated. Soon after, Mateo came in and stole a slice. A nurse who worked with them in triage.
“You’re so… tall.” Victoria squinted. Cassie chuckled at the observation but didn’t say anything.
“I guess I won the genetic lottery.” Aria shrugged, amused by the younger woman. Her height was the one thing she would commend her parents for giving her.
Most nurses couldn’t stay long as they had plenty of patients to get to and not enough hands, so it was more of a drive-by situation. They’d come into the staff room, take a slice, leave, and scarf the slice down on their way out without missing a beat.
When Dana came in, she was left with scraps. More or less. “You’re still here?” She asked as she grabbed a plate and the last few slices.
Aria had pushed her hands into her pockets and shrugged. “I have nothing else to do today. I tried writing earlier today and it just wasn’t clicking.”
Now, Dana Evans had the type of motherly aura that drew people in and forced them to confess their sins. There was just something instinctual about trusting her. That was probably why she was the charge nurse. Her no-nonsense attitude and trusting nature.
“So you’re hanging around the ED?” Dana raised an eyebrow as she stood next to Aria and took a bite of a slice.
“Maybe I also wanted to see Robby at work.” Aria tilted her head, knowing she was caught.
Dana nodded like she knew the answer. “Can’t do that from in here.”
“True.” The brunette narrowed her eyes, wondering where this was going. If it went anywhere.
Dana quickly finished her slices and washed her hands. “C’mon.” She led Aria to the hub to allow her a front row seat to the action. “Maybe you’ll even find some inspiration.” She teased.
Aria had a good vantage point over all of the emergency department, but especially where Robby was currently stationed in central nine. He looked heated and gearing up to yell at the parent of a patient—another Doctor Google—before he checked himself and left the room.
He was startled by Aria’s presence on the floor. “What’re you doing? You should be back in the break room.” A hint of irritation bled into his voice but she didn’t let that deter her.
“I just wanted to see you at work. Can’t really do that locked in a room.” She argued. Gentle, but firm.
“Aria.” Robby scolded.
“Michael.” Aria stared back at him, unrelenting.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was almost the end of his shift, anyway. “Fine. But you’ll stay here?”
Activity around them stopped, just for a second, so that they couldn’t quite tell that it happened. Nurses, med students, and residents couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to willingly stand against Robby’s word and he listened. The only other person who could do that was Jack.
Aria looked at him weirdly, “I would rather not snoop on your patients. That’d be disrespectful and weird.”
“And a violation of hospital policy.” He added.
After a moment, Robby took a deep breath and slipped a hand onto her waist. While he hated the fact that she would likely see bloody bodies go through the ambulance doors, he couldn’t lie that this was a wonderful surprise. He had been craving her presence again. Needed it like the air he needed to breathe.
Her being here was like a life preserver being thrown around him while drowning in a sea of waves crashing against him over and over again. It helped. He needed a boat, though.
“Actually, c’mere.” Robby grabbed Aria’s arm and pulled her with him to the staff bathroom and locked it behind them.
He needed to drown in something that wasn’t sorrow.
He pulled Aria close and kissed her, a palm cupping her face and another on the base of her spine to keep her as close as possible. She made a surprised noise before quickly melting into the kiss.
In fact, she took control this time. Aria slipped her hands underneath his hoodie, gripping his waist so she could push him against the door, prompting a gasp from Robby that gave her the opportunity to push her tongue into his mouth. A muffled groan erupted from his throat and his cargos suddenly felt a lot tighter around the crotch.
Had he really missed getting manhandled this much? He was letting her, too. Lips parting wider as his hand snaked around to the nape of her neck, an encouraging touch.
One of her hands slipped beneath his scrub top and undershirt. He shivered. Her touch was cold against his skin and the hairs on his arms stood up.
The tension coiled in his body eased into nothingness. Or all of it went straight to his dick. He couldn’t exactly tell. However, he knew he felt better. Decompressed and energized. And needy.
“Please.” Robby breathed once she pulled away. More of a whine, really.
Aria smirked. She fucking smirked. “Please what, baby?”
He actually winced at the word. Baby. First time she ever called him anything other than his name and it had to be when he was exceptionally horny. “Fuck you.”
“I’m sure you’d like to.” She countered, tilting his head with a hand on his jaw to kiss at the side of his face.
Control wasn’t something Robby gave up easy, but Aria was taking it regardless and he couldn’t care less. Something had to be wrong with him. Or something felt so right that it was unnerving.
“Please… touch me.” Robby ground out. He was red in the face, had been for a while, but was just starting to feel it.
She may not want to have penetrative sex yet, which would bond their souls forever, but she was alright with the loopholes. Which was, more or less, everything else.
“I am touching you.” Aria countered, knowing exactly what he wanted. She just wanted to hear him say it. Make him squirm even more for it.
He nearly pulled his hair out in frustration. Instead, he clutched tighter onto her jacket and took a breath before he clarified. “I… I need you to touch my cock.” When he finished speaking, he leaned his head back against the door and screwed his eyes shut. An embarrassed heat crept up his spine.
She chuckled darkly. “Poor Doctor Robinavitch.” She tsked, sliding her hands down to undo his belt. “Pent up, aren’t you?”
The tone of her voice morphed into something darker, more hypnotizing, transfixing. Sultry. A whine of confirmation escaped his lips.
“I know, baby. I know you’ve thought of this before.” Aria breathed against his lips as she lowered his zipper at a tortuously slow pace. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”
Robby captured her mouth again as she pushed her hand down his boxers, muffling his groan of pleasure as he finally knew what it felt like to have her hand around his cock. His hips began to rock against her hand, her thigh, as his heart pulsed beneath his ribs.
“Aria—” He hissed, eyes fluttering as she stroked along his shaft and began sucking marks onto his skin. “Fuck.”
“Say my name again, baby. Again.” She urged, breath hot against his ear. She squeezed him harder, thumb flicking against the tip.
“Aria!” Robby groaned, voice low but sudden. His hips bucked against her hand again. “Shit— Baby. Fuuuck, your hand. Feels so good.”
First time doing anything together and Aria already knew how to work his body like a machine. The right buttons to push. The right places to add pressure. Here and there. This and that. Unlocking things he hadn’t realized he'd buried.
The want to be controlled. To be completely under the spell of someone. To be completely and utterly theirs.
Care came not just in the basic necessities of life, the physical things such as shelter, food, and water, but also the psychological. The love. The lust. The touch of two bare bodies twisting together in a rhythm as old as time. Blood for blood. Sweet for sweet. Heart for heart.
“Such a good listener.” Aria praised, nipping at the point his jaw met his neck. He felt like he could melt into the floor from all this stimulation.
In a small fit of defiance, Robby sighed, “Not sure—mmm—that anyone else would agree.”
“Well, no one else gets you like this, do they, Doctor Robinavitch?” She whispered hotly against his ear.
Fuck her for saying that. And fuck her for saying it like that. Fuck her perfectly steel blue siren eyes and her short wavy hair that tickled his skin every time they kissed and her gentle but rough grip on his cock that seemed to know precisely what to squeeze or flick.
Oh, he was so fucked. More than before. Before, he didn't know what her touch felt like. How would one compare nothing to something? Now, he craved it like a dog craving food after its owner rang a bell.
“No.” Robby whimpered, eyebrows drawn together in a show of his pleasure.
“Attaboy.” Aria’s lips curled into a smile.
Just like that, Robby was gone. His jaw dropped open in a silent scream, fingers curled against her jacket, as his cock throbbed and pulsed in her grip. His boxers became decorated with a large wet stain.
Ecstasy rushed to his head, making him feel dizzy and causing his knees to buckle. Aria caught him and kept him upright, propping him up against the door. The sultry look in her eye melted into something more tender.
She pecked his lips as he came down from his high. “You okay?”
Still floating a little, he nodded. “I'm more than okay.” His voice was soft and a little uneven.
Quietly, Aria grabbed a paper towel or two and ran it under warm water before she dabbed at the stain on his boxers.
“Ohoho, don't do that.” Robby squirmed, gently pushing her away. “I'll get hard again.”
She snorted a little. “Right. Sorry. Just wanted to get rid of the evidence.”
“And I appreciate that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Say that again.”
“Aria.”
“Doctor Robinavitch.”
Robby sucked in a deep breath through his teeth as Aria stepped close to adjust his pants and belt properly into place.
“I appreciate your help.” He murmured, brushing a few stray hairs of hers behind her ear.
“And?” She looked up at him once his belt was done.
“And I love you?” He wasn’t quite sure what she was fishing for.
Aria pursed her lips and squinted for a moment. “Not quite what I was looking for. I was looking for a ‘thank you.’”
Robby couldn’t breathe. Not in panic, for once. He surged forward to kiss her, a deep kiss that he hoped showed just how grateful he was. His hands pulled a little at her belt buckle, causing her erection to rub against his hip.
“No.” Aria whispered against his lips. Not scared. Not self-conscious. Just firm.
He nearly whimpered in frustration. “Why not?” He breathed, eyes half-lidded as he tried to focus on her eyes but they kept dropping to her lips.
They hadn’t talked about boundaries regarding sex yet. Now was as good a time as any.
“I just don’t feel up to it right now.” She took a step back. “And I’d rather not get off in a hospital bathroom instead of the comfort of my own home.”
Robby frowned playfully. “You essentially called me a needy little bitch.”
“Aren’t you?” Aria raised an eyebrow.
That shut him up. And made his cock stir weakly in his pants. Yeah. Definitely unlocked something in him.
“No comment.” He retorted. A little too quickly.
Soon, they slipped out of the staff bathroom. No one seemed to notice or, if they had noticed, no one said anything or looked at them for too long to make it seem like they did. So, mission successful.
“Fruitcake, I can’t believe you like pussy. You should take a look at mine again.” Or not.
“Myrna.” Robby sighed, half-ignoring Aria’s giggles as she stood behind him. “Once was enough. And I only do pelvic exams when needed.”
The older woman stared at him, unimpressed. “How do you know I don’t need one?”
He scrunched his nose as he took a second to gather himself. “Goodnight, Myrna.” He guided Aria the rest of the way to the hub with a hand on her back.
At one of the workstations was a grey-haired attending with a light scruff on his jaw. He looked up from the computer when Robby got nearer, glancing from him to Aria. His eyes slid up her body. Observant. Not predatory.
“Look who’s up and about.” Jack smirked.
Aria stuck out her hand. “You must be Jack Abbot.”
He promptly shook it and nodded. “And you must be Aria Kaminski.” He had to crane his head back a little to meet her eyes. He never realized just how tall she was until now because he’d only seen her in a hospital bed before this.
She looked from Jack to Robby. “I definitely see the appeal, but I’m not sure about number one.”
Robby coughed in embarrassment while Jack simply stared, confused and blissfully unaware of Sloane’s rankings of her coworkers' hotness.
Chapter Nine: If You Changed Anything, Would You Not Have Survived?
Warnings: angst as hell, whump as hell, some fluff, robby being depressed and needy.
Word Count: 3k
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Pittsburgh was different from how he left it.
The buildings were the same. The people were more or less the same, they hadn't changed much since he took off to take care of Aria.
It was something about the air that shifted. A little lighter in the lungs. A little brighter in his eyes.
People at work noticed. How he smiled a little more, a little easier. How he took a deep breath instead of yelling at a parent of one of his patients. He didn't even get that frustrated with the slowness with which Samira got to other patients.
And yet, it was hard to be away from Aria after being with her, constantly, for a while. He found himself wondering how she was doing between holding a beating human heart and sewing a head back together. He texted her when he had the time. Small stuff.
how are you?
do you have any plans for the day?
i missed you this morning.
got a small break to eat lunch. sandwich. nothing compared to what you make.
Life was essentially back to normal. She was healed and there wasn't anything pressing to get to anymore. He was at his job, she'd be doing hers.
Life wasn't normal. It couldn't be. Finding one's soulmate threw a wrench into that “normal.”
When Robby came back from work, it was raining. A light drizzle as he turned the lock to his townhome on the outskirts of the city. Droplets made his hair damp and stuck to his forehead since he didn't have an umbrella.
His house was dark and silent as he moved through it, only creaking when he stepped onto his floorboards a certain way. He dropped his backpack onto his counter and threw his keys next to it. He let out a deep breath.
He missed Aria.
He missed the way her presence seeped into everything around her. His home was so barren and bleak compared to hers, filled with personality and warmth. How horrible of him to think he could function on his own without seeing Aria at all. He should've known better.
Addiction wasn't easy to get over if the addict went cold turkey. In many cases, they died.
Robby glanced at his watch. She'd be making dinner by now. If she wasn't busy doing something else.
In a single thought of weakness, he showed up at her door. Dripping with rainwater, droplets sticking to the hairs on his jaw, and scrubs clinging to his body, same with the hoodie over it. He was creating a puddle in the middle of the hallway.
“Robby?” Aria blinked as she answered the door, taking in his rumpled appearance.
She looked exceptionally cozy as October gave way to cooler and cooler temperatures with her oversized sweater, soft shorts that exposed her tattooed legs, and the mismatched socks on her feet. Her hair was a little out of place and her glasses were crooked on her nose. She only had meetings and some script-writing to do, so she didn't go anywhere.
It drove him crazier to see her normal state than the dressed-up, looks-could-kill version. It was the version of her that only he was allowed to see.
He didn't speak. He just pulled her in for a kiss. He needed her. Needed to see her. Needed to feel her. Taste her. Have her. Love her.
With a hand on the nape of her neck, Robby guided her backwards with his mouth still attached to hers and closed the door behind him. Once that was done, he pinned her to the nearest wall, hands frantically feeling up her curves.
“Robby.” She breathed between kisses, her lips starting to swell. He didn't care, just kept kissing her. “Michael.” She used some of her strength on him to push him away. Not hard. Just enough to give her space. “I can't… do that right now.”
With great effort, Robby pushed away the haze of want in his brain and tried his best to be present. “What do you mean?”
“I'm not… ready. For sex. With you. Yet.” Aria’s eyes darted around his face, not focusing on any particular part of him for too long.
The first time between soulmates was a milestone. It helped to really solidify their soul’s bond. They may already be welded together but they could break if not tempered and sanded.
Many described the feeling of bonding as euphoric, more so than sex already could be. As once a bond had been strengthened, soulmates could feel the emotions of one another, essentially giving them two orgasms at once. Or three, or four, depending on how many soulmates a person had.
And, although Aria thought Robby was absolutely perfect for her in all aspects, she wasn't ready for that type of thing yet.
“That's not—” Robby tried to argue, but failed. He took a deep breath and stepped back. He didn't want her to think he wanted that from her. Not yet.
Aria waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. It was hard for him to do. At this point in his life, he could intubate a patient in his sleep, but he could not, for the life of him, talk about his feelings.
He loathed to think about how any possible therapy sessions would go.
“I love you.” He whispered, almost frantic. “I love you and I never want to go a day without seeing your face. I almost went insane today. I was happier, and emptier somehow, because a part of me was thinking about you. Losing you. That one day you might end up back there and I wouldn't have been able to do anything to save you. Fuck—” He hadn't noticed the few tears that spilled from his eyes until they blurred his vision.
He couldn't help it. What if he had taken off that day? Would she have died? Would they have never met? Or would he have been at PittFest with Jake and got caught in the crossfire too? Never knowing she existed? Maybe they would have met and the excitement and joy would've been cut short because he would've been a victim too.
If the details had been different, would she not have survived?
The stomach held a lot of vital organs. A bullet a little to the right and it would've hit something crucial. She'd be dead before she hit the Pitt floor.
Aria pulled him into a hug, tight and strong as she let him sob into her shoulder the same way he let her. She didn't say anything because she couldn't exactly promise that she would never get hurt again, but feeling her arms around him was enough reassurance.
She cradled the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his hairline. He was cold from the rain. Maybe that was part of this outburst, among a million other factors.
She couldn't stop thinking about him either. Couldn't stop wondering if he was okay going back to work after fussing about her and her health for a while.
im okay. how're you?
just got a few meetings for post-production. besides that, im probably gonna get some writing done. what about you? anything interesting in the er today?
i missed you too.
i would've made you lunch. all you had to do was ask.
“How about you take a nice warm shower and I order takeout? Would you like that?” Aria said in a soft, soothing whisper as she cupped his cheek and wiped away some of his tears.
She spoke to him like he was a scared, abused dog who was having a hard time trusting others after being burned for so long. He would have been mad at it if it weren't so true.
He needed a gentle touch after years of nothing but pain.
Wordlessly, Robby nodded. He felt even more pathetic because he couldn't speak.
“Alright,” Aria guided him to the bathroom, “I'm gonna leave some clothes on my bed so you can get warm and so I can put your scrubs in the dryer.” She slipped a hand onto his cheek, tilting his head so he met her eyes. “Do you have a taste for anything?”
Robby took a breath, unable to get away from her piercing eyes. “Dimsum would be great.”
“I'm probably gonna get some pork buns, then. Is that fine?” Oh, god, and she was extremely considerate? His heart nearly broke.
He nodded, a laugh escaped him, though it sounded more like a scoff. “I'm non-practicing, remember? Being kosher is hard.”
Aria smiled softly. “I guess we can share, then.” She left Robby to set out some clothes.
Stepping into the bathroom, he peeled off his clothes and goosebumps began to appear on his skin once naked, save for the gold chain around his neck. He turned the knob in the shower to allow it some time to heat up, letting steam fill the room and seep into his pores.
Robby took a deep breath. He felt more at home here than anywhere else. His soul didn't want to part from her for too long, it pushed him to the edge of insanity when he couldn't see her. He was overbearing. Clingy, by some metric. She didn't care. Welcomed him into her life and began to make space.
The shower was much needed. He felt so much better, lighter, after the warm water sprayed his skin for a few minutes. He let his head fill with nothing but sensation for a while. The scent of Aria's products, the heat of the water, the strange coolness of the chain around his neck.
As he got out of the shower, he grabbed a towel and haphazardly dried his hair before he wrapped it around his waist and found Aria's room. On the foot of her bed were some boxers, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt that had a faded graphic on the front for Pittsburgh University.
It surprised him that everything fit nicely. The boxers were perhaps a little tight around the waist but not uncomfortably so. He had to assume she had an affinity for more loose clothing.
Robby padded into the living room, scratching the back of his neck. An array of food was already set out on the coffee table, steaming and delicious. How long was he in there? Longer than thought, apparently.
Aria typed away at her computer as it sat on her lap. Without looking away, she said, “I went ahead and put your scrubs in the washing machine. Should be good to go in the morning.”
“Thanks, I, uh, I don't know what happened. Kinda… blacked out in there, I guess.” Robby sank onto the couch next to her, rubbing at his face.
“We all have our quirks.” Aria shrugged as she shut the laptop and set it off to the side. “Warm—and cold—showers help to ground people. Thought you'd need a little grounding.” She reached for a container of dumplings and a pair of chopsticks.
A grounding technique.
He had needed that. Desperately. And she was able to see it like some sort of sixth sense.
He supposed they were trading places now. She was hurt. Externally. And he helped her. He was hurt. Internally. And she helped him. And he accepted it.
It hit him when he was in the middle of eating a bao. He had spent so long taking care of others that he almost forgot what it was like to have that care turned back towards him. And she was doing quite a good job doing so, making sure he was warm, fed, clean, and clothed. Loved. An essential for human connection of any kind.
Funny how the English language only had one word for love whereas most others had many different kinds, making a distinction between sexual, platonic, or romantic forms. Lust. Like. Love. Doesn't exactly hit the same as eros. Philia. Agape.
“Do you do anything outside of work?” Aria asked between bites of dumplings. Her whole body was facing him, giving him her complete and full attention as soft music played from the record player.
Robby chewed thoughtfully, though he already knew the answer. “I donate blood whenever I can. Read if I get the chance. Go to festivals if there’s one in town…”
She stared at him for a moment. He couldn't tell if it was judgmental, pitying, or something he couldn't quite comprehend yet.
Life outside work was nearly non-existent. He tried to push himself towards a better work-life balance a year after Adamson's death, taking off that day to take his mind off it. He wasn't sure it helped but it was way better than having a meltdown in the middle of Pedes. Instead, he could have his panic attacks in the comfort of his own home.
“We need to get you a hobby.” Aria simply said and went back to eating.
Comparatively, Aria had plenty of hobbies. Hobbies she turned into jobs so they didn’t always feel like she was doing work. Writing, drawing, cooking, filmmaking. They could be fun. When surrounded by the right people.
Robby snorted, “You sound like Jack. And Dana.”
“Smart people, then.” She shrugged as she shoveled a piece of homemade kimchi into her mouth.
“What do you recommend?” He wasn’t trying to be snarky, even if it came out that way.
She hummed as if she were actually thinking hard. “You have to try dancing,” She pointed her chopsticks at him, “Depression can’t hit a moving target. Then, we get you a therapist and find real coping mechanisms for you.”
We. She kept saying ‘we.’
Like they were already a unit though their bond hadn’t been solidified. It made his heart ache. Not the kind that made his chest feel empty. Instead, it was very full. More full than it had been in years.
“Not so sure about dancing.” He shook his head and stole one of the dumplings from her plastic container. Flavor exploded in his mouth. Not only did she make great food, but she knew where to find it.
Aria raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “You like baseball.” She commented.
Robby nodded, wondering where she was going with this, “I do.”
“Do you like the Pirates?” He could see the gears turning in her head and he was almost afraid. Almost.
“I grew up in Pittsburgh. I have to.” He chuckled softly, grabbing a piece of kimchi.
Aria said as if recounting the weather for the rest of the day, “I can get you season tickets. Maybe even some access to the special club or something.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
It was fine when it was only a few drinks here and there. Even the meals they shared and the suit she got him. He could reason that this was his payment for going to the wedding with her and he needed a new suit besides the tux he usually wore to formal events. He couldn’t reason this. Not anymore.
Well, there was the obvious reason that he didn’t want to admit out loud. This was one of her ways of caring for him. Paying for shit that didn’t really matter, but it would make him happy so it did matter to her.
She had no expectation that he would pay her back in any capacity. Neither of them were strapped for cash, but she was far wealthier than he could dream of. It was scary and exciting and still, he felt like he was taking advantage of that, though there was no reason to.
“Baby,” There was a Southern edge to the word that made his heart skip a beat or two. “Is it so hard to believe that I want to do things for you?”
She set her food down so her attention was completely and solely on him. Her eyes transfixed him. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. He didn't. Drowning because of her seemed nice.
Robby shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.” He breathed, his hands dropped to his lap along with the container in his hands.
Her eyes narrowed subtly beneath her glasses as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. He didn't register pressing his face into the palm of her hand or the fact that her touch soothed him so easily that he closed his eyes, almost lulled to sleep by the gentle touch.
A light frown appeared on her lips, as did a light indent between her eyebrows. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and guided his head down to her chest. It was comfortable, given she had a lot of pillowing, but the sound of her heartbeat made him calm.
“I'm sure many people have told you pushing down your feelings isn't good,” Aria whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But it really isn't.”
“Yeah.” He murmured, nuzzling his face into the swell of her breasts. His voice vibrated against her body. “This is nice, though.”
She laughed softly and rolled her eyes. “Of course you'd think so.”
Going to bed that night might've been the best sleep he'd had in a while. The hotel room allowed him to sleep with Aria for the first time, which was nice, but nothing compared to sleeping with her in her room in her bed. It was like coming home, all warm and soft and welcoming.
It could've been the mattress or the pillows or the blankets. He attributed it to being in her private space, being let into it.
Her guard, less noticeable than his, was coming down just as his was. Perhaps their souls were already bonding, bit by bit, piece by piece, as more and more were revealed to one another.
Chapter Eight: All Of My Kindness Is Taken For Weakness
Warnings: aria is hungover as hell, mentions of sex, 18+ themes, angst and fluff, background mel king x oc, transphobia, whump, death threats (oops).
Word Count: 8.1k
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“Oh my god…” Aria rubbed her forehead. Her head throbbed and pulsed by her ears like her head might explode.
Robby chuckled softly. “That's what happens when you get drunk the day before a wedding.” He sat at the edge of the bed and offered her a glass of orange juice. “Here, this’ll help.”
With a groan, Aria sat up against the headboard. Stray hairs stuck out all over the place. Her bangs parted to expose her forehead—she’d fix that later. She put on her glasses and took the juice from Robby, taking a large gulp. The vitamin C was already helping.
Looking up, over the rim of the glass, Aria met Robby’s gaze. He was already dressed. In a simple long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but still dressed. The greys in his beard seemed lighter under the morning sun or it was the dark shirt he wore.
“I got some muffins.” Robby reached for the bag he got the previous day. “Finish the juice, eat one, then take a nap. You should feel better afterwards.”
Having a doctor for a soulmate had its ups and downs. Being a chronic hypochondriac was definitely a con. Not necessarily in regards to his health, but the people closest to him. Or that was the PTSD talking. However, having easy home remedies to cure hangovers was, perhaps, the best pro anyone could have.
Aria was looking forward to taking advantage of Robby’s jack-of-all-trades medical knowledge. She wasn't planning on drinking constantly every weekend, she wasn't the type of girl to go to bars or clubs that often, but she could take these helpful tips a lot better than the rigid rules he gave about her stitches.
She understood how harrowing it must've been. Sometimes, she forgot about it. It was easy to forget since she couldn't see the state she was in. Until it crossed her mind again.
Robby saw her. Half-dead and barely breathing, with blood gurgling out of her stomach like a man striking for oil. She couldn't imagine seeing him like that. She didn't want to. Ever. She'd treat him like the most fragile of glass handcrafted by artisans in the heart of Venice, so she didn't blame him.
Aria just hated the pressure of confinement, of rules, and straight-up orders.
These tips were not that at all. Robby knew she felt like shit, as most people do after a night of quite a few celebratory drinks, and simply wanted to help.
So she finished the glass of orange juice, ate two out of the four muffins he got the previous day, and went back to bed to sleep the hangover off.
Robby watched Aria for a moment, biting his cheek as he slid a hand onto her waist over the sheets. He thought about last night. About her sudden desire to kiss him. She was cute, trying to get him to agree to her proposition. He would've, if she hadn't been tipsy and half-asleep. He liked his lovers to be completely aware of intimacy as it happened. Safe. Consensual. And memorable.
He left her alone after a few minutes to set their clothes out. The wedding would start at one but Aria wanted to get to the venue an hour or two early to help her brother and Valeria get ready so that left her to get a few hours’ sleep and enough time to get herself ready.
Robby set the clothes on the dresser, subtly rubbing his thumbs against the material of Aria’s dress. It was verdant green and silky with a floor-length skirt, he had to fold it so it wouldn't fall, and some fabric bunched to the side, creating the effect of a slit. His own outfit was meant to complement hers—a suit in a dusty brown color with a texture reminiscent of tree bark, a deep green button-up which was reminiscent of the British racing color, and a matching pocket square. Aria didn't think he needed a tie since he was simply a guest and he didn't argue. He didn't like wearing ties much, anyway.
Next, he took out Aria's jewelry bag. He didn't pick out what she wanted to wear because he didn't know, but he thought it would be helpful to have it out instead of digging through her suitcase for it. He even took out his own few pieces of jewelry. Just a few golden rings and small hooped earrings.
Robby couldn't remember the last time he really dressed up. There were the events where he had to wear suits out of obligation like medical conferences or award ceremonies that had strict dress codes, so he never bothered to do more than he had to.
However, weddings were different. This wedding, in particular. The dress code was formal—dressy—but not black-tie, which offered some breathing room in the realm of dress.
And Aria, intentionally or not, encouraged him to play in that area. To remember why he got those tattoos and piercings in the first place.
After everything was taken out, Robby settled onto one of the couches to catch up on reading the book he had been meaning to finish. It was something Sloane recommended and he found that he liked it a lot more than he first thought he would. Between pages of beautifully written prose, he looked over the edge of the book to watch Aria sleep peacefully.
He wondered if she'd ever let him read some of her writing.
It was good, if the awards she earned were anything to go by. Sloane complimented it constantly, recited quotes from the films and even some from the non-scriptwriting Aria did.
He wasn't privy to any of that yet. He'd seen a few of her films, more captured by the plot rather than mulling over the specific details. It made him jealous. Envious.
Until he reminded himself he'd only known of Aria’s existence for a week and she and Sloane had been friends for years. It was natural that she sent her musings to her friend instead of the man she had not known for long, even if they were soulmates.
After he finished the last few pages of his novel, Aria stirred. She rolled over so she was flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling as she rubbed her palm against her forehead. “I actually do feel better.” She murmured in disbelief.
“Well, that's what happens when you listen to your doctor.” Robby smirked as he put down his book.
“Oh, shut up.” Aria groaned. She pulled the sheets away from her body to stand. She moved towards the bathroom, but paused when she saw the dresser. “You took out my clothes.” Her tone was flat, but not accusing or mad.
“Yes. I did.” Suddenly, he was self-conscious. Was he not supposed to do that?
Aria glanced from their outfits to Robby, snatched up her underwear, and then shut the door to the bathroom behind her. He was able to breathe a little easier afterward.
As the shower spray started, muffled by the pane of glass separating the two rooms, Robby glanced down at his watch. Three hours ‘til Jesse and Valeria were officially Mr. and Mrs. Kaminski. He might as well get dressed while she was in the shower.
He pulled off his tee and threw it by his suitcase so he’d remember to wash it when they returned to Pittsburgh. Then came the jeans he put on just to go to the lobby. He stood in his boxers for a few moments too long as he wondered if he should change his socks. White should be fine since his slacks were long enough to cover them anyway. He decided it would be fine and pulled the slacks over his hips.
A whistle caught his attention. Robby turned to see Aria, a towel loosely wrapped around her body. Her short hair was already dry but her skin was still gently glistening with water and her face was complete with makeup that made her look heavenly.
“That necklace is nice.” Her eyes dipped to the Star of David pendant that hung over his clavicle as it glittered in the light. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but they might never leave if she said what she actually thought. “You should wear it over your shirts more often.”
Robby rubbed at his neck. “I don’t know. I don’t really know what I believe anymore.”
“It still matters to you, though, doesn’t it?” Aria could see into his soul, read him easily like the front page headline of a newspaper.
It was nice. To feel seen. And, yet, incredibly terrifying because he had been so used to shutting people out and putting up walls. He was stupid to think his walls could not be penetrated by the one person who was meant to.
He didn’t respond and, instead of pushing, Aria gave a peace offering. “Help me put on my dress?”
With a nod, Robby stepped behind her as she let her towel fall into a heap around her. She kicked it away as she stepped into the dress and he lifted the straps over her shoulders, careful to make sure none of the tattoos on her back were hidden by the fabric. A little selfish of him, because he loved looking at them—the Joan of Arc etched into her shoulder, the sun and moon that spanned her spine with swirling strokes of ink, and the upside-down rose on the nape of her neck half-covered by the thick hair growing there. The fact the dress had an exposed back helped.
His palms cradled her shoulders as they stood in front of the mirror. A part of him wanted to bury his face in her hair, in her neck, to breathe in her scent.
“It was a gift from my grandmother.” Robby sighed, feeling a tightness in his throat. A symptom of never truly processing her death. “I don’t know if I believe in anything, but it’s comforting to think she might still be out there. Somewhere. Makes me feel closer to her.”
Wearing it over his shirts felt like it was too far away. No, it had to always be touching his skin. Closer to his heart.
Aria turned in his arms, slipping her hands onto his bearded cheeks as his eyes watered with unshed tears. “Regardless of where she ended up, I think she’d be incredibly proud of you.” She looked into his eyes, forcing eye contact.
Sharp, icy glaciers bulldozed and carved into the dark and, usually, unyielding Earth.
She kissed his cheek. Flowers seemed to bloom in his chest as he leaned into the casual, soft affection she was so easily offering.
Love wasn't something he offered easily. If he did ever find himself in love, platonically or romantically, he fell and he fell hard. He wanted to drown himself in it. He wanted to bury his body in the dirt and be surrounded by it. He wanted to forget he was ever separate. But that wasn't healthy, so he tried his best to tamper that down.
“C'mon, lemme help you dress, too.” Aria smirked, grabbing his shirt.
Robby pursed his lips, feeling heat spread all over his face before he turned and pushed his arms through the sleeves. He turned again and he almost shivered when Aria began to button the shirt, fingers brushing against his warm skin.
He stared at her as she focused on the buttons. Her eyes were slightly narrowed behind her glasses, highlighting the eyeliner she chose to wear, her lips gently pursed to one side, and there was a light indent between her eyebrows. He wanted to kiss it away.
So he did.
Aria had finished fastening the buttons, leaving a few near the top undone. He captured her hands before she could truly pull away and kissed the space between her eyebrows. Her bangs tickled his nose but he ignored it, wanting to feel more of her skin against his lips.
She chuckled softly as she took a step back, hands still in his and she made no move to take them away. “I thought you said you didn't want to kiss on my brother's wedding day.” She teased.
“Oh, I want to.” Robby whispered, voice playful yet dark. “I just said I wasn't sure if it's a good thing to do.”
Aria raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean you won't do it?”
He took a breath. “I don't know. I guess we'll see what happens, won't we?”
“I guess we will.” She let out a single, light laugh.
Eventually, they both got fully dressed. Aria folded his pocket square and slid it into his blazer, Robby helped put on her simple black heels with red bottoms, and they subtly watched each other put on their jewelry.
Something in Aria’s eyes darkened when he put his earrings in. A similar thing happened to him when she stacked several steel necklaces around her throat. Some dipped just above her cleavage.
Before they left, Aria grabbed a small brown leather purse and slung it over her shoulder. It wasn’t too chilly out so she didn’t think to grab a jacket.
Easily, Robby’s hand found the small of her back. In the streets of Chicago—because she didn’t want to find a taxi since the venue wasn’t too far and the weather was nice—he wanted to keep her close, and if it was also a subtle sign to any bystanders that she was taken didn’t hurt.
The wedding space was decorated similarly to the reception hall with black irises and multicolored tulips everywhere, especially wrapped around the wedding arch. Aria didn’t stay long enough to really look at it, she’d seen the mock-ups and digital designs from Valeria who got them from her wedding planner. Instead, she pulled Robby along with her to the room Jesse was holing up in until the wedding actually began.
She cracked the door open. She didn’t see anyone else besides her brother so she stepped inside, leaving Robby outside.
Jesse was completely dressed, minus his blazer and tie which hung around his shoulders as he paced the room. He stopped and took a breath when he saw Aria.
“Hey.” He clasped his hands together nervously.
“Hey.” She responded, mirroring his gesture. “You okay?”
Jesse let out a scoff. “Yeah. Just got wedding nerves. I’ll get over it.”
Aria sat down on one of the Victorian-style couches in the room. “Sure.” She watched as he began pacing and wringing his hands again. “Jesse. You’re going to be fine.”
“I know, I’m just…” He ran his hands through his previously perfectly styled hair. “I’m wondering if inviting our family was a good idea. If I made a mistake. At best, they’re tolerable. At worst, they’re gonna call you and Valeria’s family slurs behind your back and I knew that and it was stupid of me to even—”
“Jesse.” She said firmly and motioned for him to sit next to her. He did. “You can’t exactly uninvite them right now. So, I’d focus on the fact that you’re getting married to the woman who loves you and is completely out of your league.”
His eyes turned fond and a small smile could be seen from under his beard. “She is, isn’t she?”
“Alright, stop daydreaming.” Aria gingerly punched her brother’s shoulder and pulled him to stand again. “We gotta fix this hair.”
Jesse rolled his eyes but let her do as she wished. She took off her rings in order to lather her hands in a thin layer of his pomade and styled it back into place. Afterward, she put her rings back on to tie his black bowtie so it was a smidge overexaggerated, slid his white blazer on, and pushed a red square of fabric into the breast pocket so it resembled a flower.
She patted his shoulder. “Now you look like you’re ready to get married.”
“I look like James Bond.” He blinked as he looked into the full-length mirror by the windows.
“Good, right?” Aria elbowed his side.
She was the one who suggested the suit he chose. He trusted her judgement on almost everything fashion-related, as long as she kept in mind that his fashion sense was simpler than hers. More basic. So she didn’t show him suits with bright colors or intricate embroidery, rather, she sent elevated takes on classic suits.
The James Bond suit was just the one he happened to like the most. He traded in the red flower for a pocket square, though.
“You just wanna hear me say it.” He said, voice flatter than usual.
“Oh, I really wanna hear you say it.” Aria teased.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I could beat your ass in this dress, you know. I don’t care that you’re about to get married.”
“And mess up your hard work? I find that hard to believe.”
“So you admit that I did good.”
“I didn’t quite say that.”
“Alright, put ‘em up. We’re about to get into some fisticuffs.” Aria’s accent changed to a scarily good Cockney accent. She lifted her fists and began to fake punch his shoulders.
Jesse stood there, unmoving, and a mixture of mildly annoyed and incredibly amused. He was used to this behavior. He began to wonder how Robby would react once he was on the receiving end of this shadow-boxing or the drastic changes in her accent, because it would happen, it was only a matter of time.
“Alright,” He smacked her hands away after a while. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Aria hummed, feigning thought. “Not really, no. But I’m sure you want me to leave so Alexis can give you a man-on-man pep-talk. In that case, I’ll leave.”
Before she could, Jesse pulled her in for a hug. It was tight and nearly suffocating. She stiffened. They rarely hugged. Not when she left for Pittsburgh, not when she visited New York, not when they ever said goodbye to one another.
She relaxed into his embrace after a moment. “I am too. Gotta give back to the person who gave so much to me.” She pulled away slightly to see his face.
“Well, you are kinda rich now…” Jesse mumbled.
Emotional moments didn't last long between them. Never have, never will.
Aria scoffed and shook her head. “You're a software engineer and your wife is a lawyer. It's not like you're strapped for cash.”
“Neither is a doctor.” Jesse countered as they mutually pulled away. “Did he tell you he paid for our drinks last night? With your card.” He raised an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Well, screw me for trying to take care of the elderly.” She rolled her eyes.
They both went silent. Then, a burst of laughter filled the room.
“Now, get the hell out.”
“Gladly.”
Aria left the room, finding Robby on a nearby bench as he typed on his phone, his glasses perched on his nose. She sat next to him, pressed herself against his shoulder to see who he was texting. She could be nosy when she wanted to be.
The messages she could see were related mostly to work. Something about the substitute day attending handling a situation wrong, which caused one of the residents to step up and do it correctly.
“Who's Jack?” She wondered aloud.
“Jack Abbot. The doctor who saved your life.” Robby answered. Paused. Then, he added, “And the one who Sloane said was the hottest doctor in the ER.”
Only then did Aria’s face dawn with recognition. “You know, I still haven't seen him to confirm or deny if that's true.”
“I think I'd die if you thought he was hotter than me.” He put his phone in his pocket and folded up his glasses to put them in his blazer.
“You're my soulmate, Robby.”
“So? People still cheat on their soulmates.”
“Robby.”
“Aria.”
“I know it might be surprising, but I am probably one of the most sexless people you'll ever meet.”
“What?” The revelation made him dizzy.
Aria wasn't a virgin, as some people were when waiting for their soulmate, but she hadn't had many sexual partners. She had two somewhat long-term boyfriends that lasted a few years.
The first was a secret one. His name was Luke. He was blond, bright-eyed and, looking back, the worst choice she could've ever picked for her first time. They were freshly eighteen and a little stupid and it was a secret because they were both perceived as boys. Neither of them had any clue what to do, but they kissed in the boy's locker room after school hours and jerked each other off in their boxers. It was awkward and not very good, but she clearly didn't care at the time.
They dated until she came out and moved to Pittsburgh. Luke was gay, so she didn't blame him for it. Occasionally, they talked, and she learned he had found his soulmate and was quite happy with the cards the universe dealt him. His soulmate was a bear.
The second was when she turned twenty-two. Matt was in his late 30s and was a professor at a nearby university that wasn't her own. Just her luck to find a tall brunet with some salt and pepper at his temples who had yet to find his soulmate and gave good head. With him, she had penetrative sex for the first time. He prepped her well and made sure she was as comfortable as possible.
Perhaps she was spoiled in the way that he treated her. It was much better than Luke. She blamed it on Matt being older. They only dated for a year and a half or so, but she discovered a lot more about herself in relation to sex because of him more than anyone else.
They broke up because he didn't appreciate the way her fame had built and pulled her away from him more and more. It was likely an excuse for something else. Good riddance, then.
As the wedding crept closer, Aria and Robby seated themselves by the makeshift altar. Several other guests were there, chatting amongst themselves. The noise filled the hall.
One voice cut through them. “Aria!” Lilian ran over. “It's been so long. I'm glad you're okay.” She pulled the woman into a hug, the angle slightly awkward because one of them was sitting.
Her light curls were more defined than usual—she likely got them done for the wedding—and the dress she wore was simple with a pale blue floral pattern. A cream colored cardigan hung from her arm.
“More or less. You know how it is.” Aria smiled politely as she pulled away. “This is Michael, by the way.” She motioned to the man sitting next to her.
“Ah, yes, the soulmate.” Lilian stuck her hand out.
Robby shook her hand. “How'd you guess that?” He raised an eyebrow, a light smile on his face.
“Jesse told me.” She responded, glancing from Aria to Robby with a smirk.
Right.
Unintentionally, Jesse could be quite the chatty Cathy. He could mention something offhandedly that he thought would give more detail about someone or something and accidentally reveal something he hadn't intended. Lilian and Jesse already talked—texted, really—on a regular basis enough that the topic of Aria’s soulmate would have come up sooner or later.
The good thing was that this phenomenon only happened when he was comfortable with a person, like he subconsciously knew certain people would not take well to certain information.
Jesse had admitted to suspecting Aria was transgender way before she ever came out, but never talked about it in fear of possibly notifying their parents before she was ready to leave.
Guests soon began to find their seats. Sloane sat next to Aria and Mel next to her while Robby sat by the aisle. They all chatted, Mel and Sloane filled Robby in on the day shift happenings since he's been gone for a week. Sloane completed a STEMI in forty-five minutes, which impressed Robby and caused him to praise her for a job well done.
Aria just nodded along. It was like they were talking in code. Just her luck to have a best friend and a soulmate who are doctors.
On the other hand, Sloane felt the same way when Aria began talking, impassioned, about film. Best boy, oner, dailies, diegetic, non-diegetic, and tons more were all terms she'd used in passing that she was sure Sloane pretended to understand just to keep listening to her rants.
They kept talking, but Aria could feel someone, or someones, staring at her. She glanced from side to side and saw her second brother and his wife glaring holes into her general vicinity, like the very idea of people enjoying her company was deplorable and that made them just as bad as she was.
“You okay?” Robby leaned closer to her. To the point she could feel his breath as it was softly expelled from his lips.
“I'm fine.” Aria shook her head. Robby already worried about her, she didn't need that worry to worsen.
He raised an eyebrow. “That means you're not okay.”
The biggest bullshitter in the world knows when someone else is bullshitting him.
“Do I need to beat someone up?” Sloane hissed to Aria, glancing at Joseph as he and Addison sat in front of them.
Aria took a breath. “Maybe later.”
It wasn't her wedding. She didn't want to make a scene. She wanted to keep her distance. Clearly, they didn't. They wanted to bother her. Wanted to mess with her head.
As much as she wanted to think that it didn't, it did.
She cared. Way too much.
Her parents haunted her, though they were very much alive. Unfortunately. Maybe it'd be better when they did die.
For the most part, she forgot they existed. That she must’ve just magically sprouted from the Heavens or some lake that birthed queers. When she remembered, she wondered if they were seething with white-hot rage that she was as successful as she had become. Those thoughts made her smile.
At her lowest, she wondered why her parents didn't love her. Having a child was supposed to mean they would give their child unconditional love. Love was very conditional and that was the tragedy of it. She was supposed to be into sports the way they wanted, she was supposed to be mentally gifted, she was supposed to grow up and be like her father. Be someone who got a business degree and worked in a cubicle, running numbers, or attempting to create a presentation for investors the rest of her life.
“If you ever need anything…” Robby murmured. “We can get out of here earlier.” His voice was full of care but there was also a clipped edge to it like he'd kill for her. Die for her.
“No.” Aria said firmly. “I'm staying at my brother's wedding.”
“I could still beat Joseph up.” Sloane offered, uncaring if he heard her say it.
Aria shook her head and let out a snort. “I'll let you know if he really bothers me. How about that?”
Sloane smirked. “Good with me.”
“I feel the need to remind the both of you,” Mel looked at Sloane and Robby, “That we are doctors.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen.” Sloane winked.
Mel squinted. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
A few moments later, “Here Comes The Bride” began to play. Collectively, everyone in the hall shut up and stood to watch Valeria—donning a white dress with a myriad of flowers decorating it—float to the altar where Jesse stood with a watery smile on his face. Once she arrived at the altar, everyone sat back down and watched as the ceremony began.
Aria couldn’t remember the last time she saw Jesse cry. Or if she had ever seen him cry. It made her own eyes fill with tears.
He was so happy that he couldn’t contain himself and, well, if someone started crying, then Aria would likely start too. She was an emotional person, even before estrogen.
She sniffled and tried her best not to mess up her makeup as she wiped at her eyes. Robby noticed, and his big brown eyes softened. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him until their sides were pressed against each other. She didn’t complain.
The rest of the ceremony went by fine. Aria leaned her head against Robby’s with her eyes fixed on Valeria and Jesse.
As much as Robby wished he could focus on the couple getting married, he could not. Aria was so close to him. Closer than ever. She smelled so good. Different than usual. She must’ve put some perfume on in the bathroom. Her scent was deeper, stronger, with a more noticeable note of spice that wasn’t there before.
He was going insane. His head was light, causing a light dizziness, but he was pretty damn good at acting like he was fine. Hell, he could get an Oscar for it.
As the ceremony ended and they all moved to the reception hall, Aria slipped her hand into Robby’s. The simple, unassuming intimacy made his heart pound beneath his ribs.
Their hands were about the same size, his larger than hers, as they were compared to most people’s. Hers were soft from lotion but still had light callouses on the fingertips and high points on the palm, likely from exercise or working with her hands on various sets, nails painted a deep shade of brown. Robby did notice a guitar sitting in the corner of her room back at her apartment. The callouses could be from that too.
His hands were rougher, nails cut short but kept meticulously clean. He had to be conscious of hygiene or else he could endanger someone’s life and he didn’t need any more guilt than he already had.
Her touch eased that guilt. She yanked him from the thoughts swirling in his head and made him more material.
Food was served and drinks were ordered, causing people to be looser before the traditional first dance between the married couple started.
Valeria’s veil was pulled off and part of her train was discarded so her dress was smaller than before. The look in her eyes matched Jesse’s—completely and utterly in love. The sort of love that only got better with time and would continue to.
Then came speeches.
Alexis, Jesse’s best man, handed Aria a microphone. “You’re gonna do great.” He scurried off to the side as she stood up.
She took a deep, shaky breath. She hated public speaking and she knew it was ironic because she chose a very public-facing job. And she didn’t plan on what to say, hoping the words would just come to her. What a stupid thing to think.
She looked over the crowd and stared at the table where her biological family sat, glaring back at her. Then her eyes slid over to her table, with Sloane, Mel, and Robby all looking at her expectantly, encouragingly. Then Jesse, who simply looked at her with a patient, gentle smile.
The words started to come to her.
“I’m Aria, Jesse’s sister, if you didn’t already know.” She spoke into the microphone with a gentle laugh. “Since I’m younger by six years, I have never really known a life without him. I think soulmates can be like that, sometimes. No matter what time in your life you find yours, you become so intertwined that it feels as though you’ve known each other forever. Your life is not your own anymore. It is a new life you must carve together. Like two small streams that come together in order to create a river. Marriage only makes that flow stronger, steadier.” She gave the newlywed couple a heartfelt smile, “So I wish this newly formed river a happy, fulfilling life together.”
Not her best work, but it was better than nothing.
As Aria gave the mic back to Alexis, guests clapped and cheered and Valeria looked like she was a split second away from crying with a bright smile on her face.
Then, the other speeches began. The more planned, thought-out ones.
Sloane hugged Aria from behind. “If only someone recorded that, it'd go crazy online.”
“I'm hoping they'd focus on it being my brother's wedding, but I doubt it.” Aria murmured.
The speeches soon concluded, prompting the music to start up again and Aria to pull Sloane onto the dance floor with her so they could gleefully yell lyrics at each other while they moved their bodies to the beat.
Watching her, Robby began to realize Jesse was right. Aria was quite a good, enthusiastic dancer who would have likely pulled her stitches if they were still in. On the other hand, he enjoyed seeing all the ways she twisted her body or swayed her hips.
It can't be unlearned,
I've known the warmth of your doorways,
Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you,
Oh, please, give me mercy no more,
That's a kindness you can't afford,
I warn you, babe, each night, as sure as you're born,
You'll hear me howling outside your door,
Robby sipped on bourbon as he watched Aria throw her head back, trailing her hands up her curves as her hips maneuvered in a snake-like fashion. His eyes dropped to her ass before he could help it.
“You know, you shouldn't feel guilty finding your soulmate attractive.” Mel commented.
He nearly jumped out of his skin. He forgot she was there. “I'm not guilty.” Robby snapped, then quickly checked his temper. “Just… cautious.”
“You're soulmates for a reason. It might be helpful to figure out that reason so you're not… so cautious anymore.” Mel suggested before she stood to join Sloane on the dancefloor.
The next song was a slow one. Mel wrapped her arms around Sloane's waist while Sloane wrapped hers around Mel’s neck. They were both smiling, Mel's more subdued than Sloane's, but equally as loving.
Perhaps I had a wicked childhood,
Perhaps I had a miserable youth,
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past,
There must have been a moment of truth,
For here you are, standing there, loving me,
Whether or not you should,
So somewhere in my youth, or childhood,
I must've done something good,
“C'mon,” Aria offered Robby a hand. “Can I have at least one dance with you?”
Fuck. How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?
“Alright.” He took her hand and let her guide him to the dance floor.
Aria pulled his hand into position at the small of her back and he felt himself die a little on the inside at her self-satisfied smirk. Her hand slid up his chest to connect behind his neck as they began to move in a gentle sway.
Nothing comes from nothing,
Nothing ever could,
So somewhere in my youth or childhood,
I must have done something good,
Oh, here you are standing there, loving me,
Whether or not you should,
“How're you feeling?” Aria whispered into his ear, chest to chest and cheek to cheek. Her breath tickled his skin.
Robby was incapable of lying to her. “Better than I thought.” He glanced around the reception hall, observing the various couples around them.
She laughed softly. “Me too. I was thinking about getting air after this. You wanna join me?”
“That'd be great.” He sighed, fingertips curling slightly against the skin of her exposed back.
Her hand moved to his shoulder as she pulled away slightly. Enough to see his face. He couldn't help staring at hers either. Her glacier-like eyes, the way her lashes fluttered each time she blinked, the way her glasses sat on her face, and the light freckles that dotted her face with a few darker than the others. He particularly liked the one on her cheek, especially when she smiled.
“The song is right.” Aria murmured as they stepped in time together.
Robby tilted his head. “How so?”
“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood, perhaps I had a miserable youth,” She sang softly, a playfulness in her voice.
He laughed gently, “Right. Yes. That part.” He squeezed her hand unconsciously. “Are you Julie Andrews or Christopher Plummer?”
Aria pursed her lips and pretended to think for a moment. “I'll be Julie Andrews since I'm putting some light back into your life.” She teased.
Robby couldn't help but laugh a little harder at how true that was. She smiled wider, secretly reveling in the success of getting a full-on laugh from him. He looked so bright, with his crows’ feet deepening as his smile got wider and revealed his teeth. If someone said he was the sun, she would believe him. He could give an entire planet life with that smile.
She wished he'd do it more often. Maybe it had to do with those deep brown eyes, too.
“You're pretty good at that.” Robby whispered into her ear. His hand slid up her back, fingers splayed across the exposed expanse of her spine, and pressed her closer.
Aria chuckled, “I know.”
“You're pretty good at a lot of things.” His breath was hot against her ear, causing a shiver to go down her spine.
“Is this the part where you kiss me?” She wasn't smug anymore. She was dying with anticipation.
His hands on her bare skin made her feel like she was on fire wherever he touched. His palms left goosebumps in their wake like they were designed to. And Robby's already dark eyes seemed to darken even more simply having her close.
“It's getting harder not to.” He murmured, admitting a light defeat. Though it was the sweetest loss he could have thought of. His composure.
Though Aria was the one who wanted it more, she was conscious of the fact that they were in the middle of the dancefloor. She pulled him to the outside balcony, the cold night air bit into her cheeks and all of her exposed skin that she began to shiver.
The balcony had an ornate railing as it looked over the city. Taller than the roads, but shorter than most of the skyscrapers. Navy painted the sky as the moon helped to illuminate everything below it amongst all the car lights and twinkling lightbulbs from office buildings.
Robby shrugged off his blazer and wrapped it around her shoulders. He smoothed it out and then held her face. “Looks quite good on you.” He hummed.
“Guess I'll be stealing your clothes more often, then.” Aria smirked, pushing her arms through the sleeves. She quieted soon after as she realized he wasn't pulling his hands away.
For a moment, he hesitated. All the fears and anxieties he had about having a soulmate like Aria flashed like a grenade in his head. He was too old. She was too young. He had to take care of her. Push her away. He was incapable of being a normal lover. He had to turn away and never come back.
But he was already at the point of no return. Hell, he’d crossed it a week ago when he met her. He crossed the line in the sand and was finally going to enjoy that he hit that grand slam as he made it back to first base.
Robby finally captured Aria’s lips, shoulders slumping like there was a weight finally being discarded from them. She tasted faintly of the fruity cocktail she sipped on throughout dinner, lips soft and velvety, helped by the lipstick she wore. He wanted to devour her.
On the other hand, Robby’s beard tickled her upper lip, but she didn’t mind. She liked it, actually. The rougher hair scratched her chin and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as a shiver went down her spine. Instinctively, her hands found his waist, fitting against him like puzzle pieces as one slipped to the nape of his neck.
It wasn’t enough. He forced her lips to part and moved her head to deepen the kiss, not caring if it was sloppy. The taste of her lips was deeper, more pronounced when he slid his tongue into her mouth. She let out a soft, high-pitched whine that he could feel. His fingers curled against her jaw, thumb on her chin in an attempt to get her mouth to open wider.
He got carried away, uncaring of his brain’s need for oxygen, so Aria had to pull away. He chased after her and ducked his head to nip at her neck.
Like an animal, she fed him once, and he couldn’t stop himself from coming back over and over again.
“Robby…” She sighed, breathless. He wanted to hear her sound like that all the time. Because of him. “Robby.” Her voice became firmer when he didn’t let up.
“Yeah?” He hummed against the curve of her jaw.
Aria pushed him away and narrowed her eyes, though there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t get too carried away.”
“Aren’t you the one who wanted me to kiss you?” Robby matched her expression, a light smirk at the edge of his lips.
“That was way more than kissing.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t look so gorgeous if you don’t want me to do more.”
“Robby.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re my soulmate.”
“Unfortunately.” Aria said dryly.
They couldn’t keep it together. They devolved into a fit of giggles. Robby pressed his nose into her temple as his joy could not be contained anymore, but he always felt the need to hide it.
That joy was soon shut down. Life just didn’t want to let him breathe.
A second couple made their way to the balcony. Joseph and Addison. The light in Aria’s eyes immediately dimmed as she pulled away from Robby and wrapped her arms around herself. The cold made itself known again.
“Do you need something?” Aria asked, voice clipped.
Joseph narrowed his eyes at her and took a breath, glancing at Robby before he focused on his sister again. “Sometimes I wish you had died years ago, so I don’t have to see what you are now.”
What he said was so incomprehensible to Robby that he just sputtered for a moment. Joseph’s beliefs were unfortunately very popular, but so incredibly flawed and full of hypocrisy. Perhaps that is the final humiliation.
Robby was about to beat him to death, but Aria cut him off before he could. “You don’t. In fact, I think it’s very easy to simply look the other way.” She took a step forward, shoulders squared. “I don’t understand this obsession you have with me. Or other trans people, to be honest. There are better things to do with your life than be the most fucking hateful people I know.” Like she knew what he or his wife were about to say, she added, “The reason the suicide rate is so high within trans youth is not because they’re trans, but because of people like you who make existing so exhausting.”
“Honestly? Good, there should be less people like you.” Addison smiled bitterly.
Aria always hated Addison. She had met Joseph before Aria’s transition and was a little more moderate before he brainwashed her. Before then, she was always a raging bitch who thought anything she did could never be wrong, which was why it was so easy for her to be convinced and stay steadfast in her beliefs even when confronted by evidence that actively contradicted those beliefs.
Aria took a breath through her nose and shook her head. “You know what, I’m gonna leave because I’m one second away from letting Sloane hide your bodies in the Chicago River.”
She grabbed Robby’s hand and, in a great show of strength he hadn't quite realized she had, pulled him along with her through the venue, bypassing the dancefloor as some onlookers followed them with their eyes.
It was getting late anyway. Others started to leave so it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to go. Not to mention, being surrounded by a hundred people at all times of the day wasn't her favorite thing ever. It was a miracle she hadn't left earlier in the reception.
Only when her heels finally met the pavement did Aria let go of Robby's hand. “Sorry, I—”
“It's okay.” He wasn't sure why she was apologizing to him at all. Her shoulders were still tense, he noticed. “How about we go on a walk, huh?” He offered his arm.
“Yeah. Okay.” Aria looped her arm in his.
The Chicago night air was cool and crisp as it filled their lungs. There appeared to be a soft haze surrounding each streetlight, cars still decorated the street, but there were far fewer than during the day. Mostly, there were yellow and blue cabs driving to and from the airport.
Memories of past lives flashed through her head. Things she hadn't thought of in forever suddenly reappeared.
Of days in December spent exploring the city, Christmas shopping, huddling into a hot chocolate shop, holding onto her mother's hand so she didn't get lost or taken, or looking up in awe at the various ice sculptures illuminated by multicolored Christmas lights at the nearby zoo.
Similarly, she remembered days in July spent on the pier, getting churros with Jesse after begging their mother for a few dollars, playing fair games and riding kitty rides, and going on the ferris wheel over and over, even though she was afraid of heights, just to see the horizon on both sides. The city skyline was beautiful, as were the glimpses of Michigan over the lake.
Sometimes, she hated remembering. Remembering the tragedy of the family she used to love and who loved her. But, for better or worse, it made her who she was.
Robby and Aria found themselves overlooking the river, both leaning against the balustrades. She leaned her forearms against the cool concrete and sighed as she ran her hands through her hair.
He pursed his lips and mirrored her position, their shoulders pushed against one another. He watched her for a moment as her eyes were trained on the water below, wondering what he might say to rectify the situation. Probably nothing. He tried anyway.
“I don't… often say this to anyone, but,” Robby glanced down at his hands. “I'm very proud of you. You had an excellent recovery after last week and you're pulling through this weekend, I think, better than anyone else would be in your shoes and—”
A choked sob cut him off. “Stop talking, please.” She pressed her hands to her face after pulling her glasses up to rest on the top of her head.
He frowned and pulled her closer with an arm around her waist. “Aria.” He urged. Slowly, her hands fell from her face and met his eyes. “I'm proud of you.”
More tears welled in her eyes. “Fuck you for saying that.” She gave a watery laugh.
“I'm serious.” Robby said firmly.
“So am I.”
With a resigned sigh, Robby pulled Aria into a hug and cradled the back of her neck as she buried her face into his shoulder to sob. Her shoulders shook with each one. She wasn't loud, just soft and anguished, and it made his heart ache more.
He hated seeing her cry, he decided. And yet, he knew he couldn't stop it. When emotions become too much to bear, the body will do things to attempt to get them out. It could be grief leaving the body, but also joy or hurt or anger.
Or Aria wasn't used to people saying they were proud of her. Not so sincerely. Not so gently. Like it was true and wasn't something just to say.
“It's okay, baby. I got you. I'm here for as long as you need.” Robby held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the side of her head as a hand soothingly stroked her hair.
This was his purpose. To take care of others. Sometimes, at the expense of himself. He was good at it. Good at sensing another’s needs, not so good at sensing his own. Usually, they were his patients, but they seemed so far away now.
Aria was his focus. His reason for living. His reason for going back to work and coming home in the evening. His reason for being here, in Chicago, with her, their past lives colliding to make a new one.
The Chicago River was a product of two smaller streams that broke apart, but came back together again. Stronger. Steadier.
Warnings: whump, angst, robby feeling his age surrounded by people who are at least 20 years younger than him, transphobia, deadnaming, mentions of blood and violence, maybe some ER (1994) influences, alcohol, drunkenness.
Word Count: 5.6k
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Morning came easier than the day before.
Robby woke first with Aria’s arms around him. He moved so he was on his back, an arm around her shoulder. Instinctively, she nuzzled into his chest, the arm around his waist pulled him closer.
She looked beautiful. Peaceful. Like the weather for the next few days. Cool, but sunny with some clouds.
He couldn’t stop it this time. He gently cupped her cheek with his large hand, thumb tracing over the structure of her skull. She had nice cheekbones. Well, she had a nice everything. His thumb found her brow and he tilted his head to the side when he noticed a small scar hidden by her brow hairs.
For a while, he lay there and wondered how she got it.
Was it from when she was a kid? It did look old. Completely healed and faded into the skin, but it was lighter than the skin around it and hair didn’t grow there. Was it from falling off a bike? Did she hit her head on a cabinet?
Or was it more recent? Did her parents give it to her? Attempt something they shouldn’t have to scare her?
Robby took a deep breath and tried to stop that line of thinking before it went too far. Gingerly, his fingertips ran across her jaw up to her hairline and brushed a few hairs away from her face. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, though she didn’t open her eyes.
He took that as a sign to stop and thought about leaving the bed to get ahead on showering but, even asleep, Aria kept a strong hold on him.
“Baby,” Robby whispered, noting she was half-conscious, “I need to get up.”
Aria whined slightly, “No, Blakey, don't go.” She curled her fingers against his side.
Blakey?
He saved that piece of information for later and had to pry himself out of her grasp. She whimpered when he left the bed, hand on the sheets where his warmth still was.
Once Aria did wake up, Robby had showered—without popping a boner this time—gotten dressed, and went down to the lounge for a cup of coffee. He came back just in time to see her reaching for her glasses, strands of hair sticking up all over her head. She looked cute. Adorable.
“Hey, baby, sleep okay?” He sat on the edge of the bed. “No soreness or anything from the stitches being out?”
Aria brushed a hand haphazardly through her hair and shrugged, her voice raspier than usual, “M’fine. Just a little tender still.”
“Alright.” On autopilot, Robby set his coffee on the nightstand and pulled Aria’s shirt up just enough to see the scarring. He pushed his fingertips against her skin. “Tell me how bad it—”
“Robby.” Aria drew in a deep breath.
“What?” He blinked, looking up at her unimpressed expression. “Right.” He let her shirt fall back down. “Sorry.”
Aria slid a hand up his shoulder and squeezed it. “I appreciate your concern, but I'm alright. Really.”
“Yeah.” Robby murmured.
She left the bed to grab some clothes from her suitcase. “Me, Valeria, and a few others are going out around town later. You gonna be okay by yourself for today?”
Robby couldn't take her eyes off her back, the strength in her shoulders, the thickness of her thighs. He nodded, then quickly realized she couldn't see him since she was facing away from him.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay.” His face burned and he felt like he needed another sip of coffee to feel normal. So he took a large swallow instead. “I'll probably just read a book or something.”
Aria turned back, her clothes folded in her hands. “No offense, but you're in Chicago right now. Why don't you ask what my brother's up to?” She patted his shoulder and locked herself into the bathroom.
Ah. Yes. Chicago. Jesse.
She was right—of course she was—he needed to do something without her. Something that wasn't constantly checking to make sure she wasn't in any pain. It was hard not to when he didn't know anyone else. Most of his past friends who lived in Chicago probably weren't there anymore. He didn't keep in touch with them. Doctors came and went all over the country, especially in bigger cities like these.
What did he do back in the 90s when he wasn't at the hospital? Well, he did go to a few sports games, but getting tickets now would be short notice and he wasn't intending to stay up past ten since the wedding was tomorrow and he'd rather not feel hungover or more exhausted than he already would.
What else? The park could be nice this time of year. If it was a slow day and he didn't have much else to do, he'd leave the hospital early and take a walk, watch the leaves fall off the trees and the others walking around him—sometimes couples, sometimes single people with places to be and not enough time to get there, or other times it'd be a family with their child who loved playing in the leaves as they piled up.
And Jesse—well, Robby still wasn't sure what to make of him. When they brought Aria home from the hospital, Jesse was mostly concerned with her well-being but kind enough to invite Robby to his wedding. Other than that, he was cold. Or maybe that was just the way he spoke, monotone and largely not excited about anything that he didn't let it bleed into his voice.
What did he have in common with a soon-to-be married thirty year-old anyway? Apparently, less than a twenty-five year-old.
“I'll see you tonight.” Aria told him once she left the bathroom and put on her coat. She was dressed in a cozy sweater and jeans and pulled on some boots.
Robby blinked, “Tonight?”
“Valeria has a lot of stuff on her bucket list.” She chuckled and waved at him as she left the room.
Alright. He was alone earlier than he thought he'd be. He assumed they'd have breakfast again together. It was fine. Acceptable. Perfectly agreeable. Whatever.
He wasn't a little boy, so why did he feel like one at that moment? Like he had just been abandoned by someone important to him?
He took a deep breath. He'd be fine. She'd be fine. She wasn't abandoning him, she was just going to be with her sister-in-law for the day. She'd be back. He ran his hands through his hair and drew in another deep breath.
Robby needed to get his shit together. A feeling he was familiar with was beginning to overtake him—fear.
He let out a light, delirious chuckle. Maybe he needed to get that therapist Jack recommended or, take his advice, and get someone, anyone else to talk to that wasn't him or Dana. Bottling up his feelings until he exploded on some unsuspecting intern or med student wasn't the best thing to do.
With a breath, Robby grabbed his coat and made his way back down to the lobby to get a cup of coffee. It still sucked. But shitty coffee was still better than none. The warmth of it made him relax, shoulders slumping.
“You're Robby, right?”
He blinked when he noticed Aria’s brother, Joseph, suddenly appeared. He must've been lost in his mind.
“Uh, Michael, but yes.” Robby’s eye twitched, unsure what this was about, but he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
“And you're a doctor?” Joseph pressed. There was something in his eyes. A clear ulterior motive brewing in the depths of those brown irises.
Robby didn't like where this was going. His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I am, but—”
“Then you've gotta know how unhealthy this is for Jayce, the shit he's done to his body—”
“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.”
“He's sick in the head.”
“That is far from the truth and you're delusional if you think otherwise.” Robby hissed. His voice was low, threatening, like he wouldn't hesitate to slit a throat.
So many people thought they knew better than doctors, to the point they believed people who were nowhere close to having any sort of medical degree. Or, even generally, a doctorate.
“Your sister was bleeding out onto my hands. She could have died. And all you have to say to me is that she's medically insane? Do you hear yourself?” There was a pinch between his eyebrows as memories of that day flashed behind his eyes. He shook his head and quickly left the lobby, leaving the hotel through the main doors and took deep breaths of the cold air.
Pittsburgh wasn't the largest city in the world, not compared to other big cities in the states like Los Angeles or New York or even Chicago, but transgender people lived there too. They lived everywhere. And where transgender people lived, there was the possibility of them ending up in the emergency department. Whether it was from accidents or their head telling them they weren't worth the trouble, Robby oversaw most of their care at PTMC.
He saw the hopelessness in their eyes when they realized they survived. He saw the lifeless bodies covered by thin sheets on a gurney. He saw the fear after getting brutalized just for being alive.
And he saw the tears of joy in a woman's face when someone corrected their chart.
The cool autumn air filled Robby's lungs and calmed his spinning head. The Chicago breeze nipped his skin, but not uncomfortably so. It made him more conscious of the heat he kept.
Cars honked on the road as buses and blue taxis took up most of the space with various ads all over. He glanced around, watching as various kinds of people walked past, dressed up for the cold weather. He was reminded to zip up his coat.
A walk around the city didn't seem so horrible anymore. Robby found his air pods in his pocket and put them in his ears. Just as he did, an ambulance went by, blaring its sirens as the red lights blinked over and over and over again. He watched as it sped onto Michigan Avenue.
Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull,
And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull,
At night, I wake up with the sheets soaking wet,
And a freight train running through the middle of my head,
Only you can cool my desire,
Oh–oh–oh, I'm on fire,
It felt like walking through a memory, retracing the steps he took so long ago around the same time. The September air was filled to the brim with nostalgia. However, so much was different. He used to be bright here. As bright as the lights twinkling from Navy Pier. And maybe those lights were still somewhere inside him, just as bright, but obscured by smog and hard to find amongst all the haze.
The city changed with him, but not the way he did. Within all the Gothic—nearly Parisian—architecture were hints of modernity. The park had an overhead bridge now and several different artistic installations. The Bean wasn't there last time he was in the city. Funny. What thirty years could do to a city. To a man.
Robby watched as tourists flocked to the silver Cloud Gate—which was a stupid thing to name something bean-shaped—and touched it like millions of previous tourists did and millions more would. Leaves from the surrounding trees danced along the wind until they floated down to the concrete ground in mini-tornados.
When he felt the chill seeping through his clothes, he found himself at a nearby coffee shop to catch some warmth. The scent of cinnamon and maple enveloped him. Fresh pastries sat in a glass case at the front.
He meant to just warm himself up but he felt drawn to the muffins on the top shelf of the case. Aria had some muffins sitting under a cloche at her apartment. Maybe she'd like some when she came back to their room. There'd probably be some drinking if she was expecting to come back late, so some carbs and sugar would be nice for brain function so she wouldn't feel as lethargic the next morning.
Robby took off his air pods and brought out his wallet instead, stepping up to the register. “Hey, uh, can I get four of those cinnamon muffins? To-go, please.”
A young woman with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail nodded as she rang up his order on the tablet in front of her. “Is that all for you, sir?”
“A small hot chocolate would be great.” He mustered up a polite smile and gave her a nod.
“Okay, your total’s gonna be 9.25.” She said, taking his card once it was offered to her. She swiped it and then returned it to him. “Your order’s gonna be out soon.”
Robby stood off to the side, just observing. Soft jazz filtered into the café from a place he couldn't discern as couples, friends, and small families of three or four talked and had drinks and pastries. Some of the couples were likely soulmates, some not. Cities like these were breeding grounds for supposed star-crossed lovers and illicit affairs.
He remembered having a few of those here. Men and women he thought he'd break his fate for. He was young and stupid and thought he could rewrite the stars as long as he had a pen and the will to do it.
How wrong he was. Now, he was in the same city with his soulmate where he promised a fellow resident that they'd be together forever, regardless of the black mark around their wrists that never went red as much as he wished at the time.
Robby picked up his muffins and hot chocolate, rolling the paper bag down to keep them warm before he took a sip from his cup.
It was like they poured liquid reminiscence inside. It tasted exactly like how it did decades ago. How could they do that? It was a different place from the one he'd get hot chocolate from. Maybe the city didn't change all that much. Maybe the only thing that really changed was the cup it came in.
Robby left the café, eyes gravitating towards the El as a train went by. He followed the overhead tracks. Usually, he hated city noises, couldn't function while walking to the hospital, but he wanted to hear them now—wanted to listen to the rumbling of the tracks as the train screeched and rushed like waves or cars engines as the sped up or slowed down or the buses breaks, occasionally releasing pressure as they stopped to let people off or the breeze as it went by, rustling leaves and howling when it went through an alley.
He might’ve left the Windy City, but it never left him. He imagined Aria felt the same way.
Sometimes, he wondered what sort of life he would've had if he stayed. Something better? Something worse? Then, he deemed it idiotic to dwell on possibilities. Though, it never truly stopped that wondering.
After a while of wandering along the El route, Robby came across a record store he used to frequent. Still there. The signage was a little faded but he remembered the cursive font like yesterday. He entered and breathed in the familiar scent of smoke and leather as the bell for the door rang above him.
It still looked the same on the inside, with yellow walls, cabinets and shelves full of all sorts of records divided by genre and the artist’s name. He got Green Days’s Nimrod album from here. It was one of his prized possessions.
Aria would like it here. She had a whole collection of records. He found more in a box next to the record cabinet. Robby walked through one of the isles. What sort of thing would she like? And, more importantly, what would they have?
He searched through some stacks and tried to think of what Aria had at home. She had a mix of new and old vinyls. Hozier was a given, but she also had Sinatra, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, and Johnny Cash. And some eclectic stuff he's never heard of—TV Girl, Orange Sector, and KMFDM.
He recalled she only had one vinyl from an artist named Laufey. The store had a few, all different from the orange cover he remembered. The one that caught his attention had a green cover with the singer draped in a white flowing dress as she stood on a hill covered with verdant grass.
“Michael? Michael Robinavitch?” Was he hallucinating? That voice haunted his dreams every so often. “Oh my god, it is you!”
Robby turned at the sound of the voice, eyes widening. “May?”
The woman practically threw herself onto him, arms around his neck. “It's been so long, how've you been?” She smiled brightly at him. Yeah, definitely not a hallucination.
She looked almost the same as she did thirty years ago, just a few more lines around the eyes. Her black hair was pin-straight and was pulled back with a headband. She was beautiful. He didn't expect that to change. Her eyes shined with mirth as she looked up at him.
Robby coughed a little. He almost spilled his hot chocolate. She quickly backed away, still expecting an answer. “I'm alright. How're you?” He tucked the record he picked out underneath his arm.
May did the same with the few she picked out. “I'm fine. Still working at Stroger. How's your grandmother?” She asked, voice softer, gentler.
Robby didn't answer right away, wrinkling his nose. “She passed. Not long after I transferred back home.”
Somehow, it was easier admitting it to her than anyone else. Maybe it was because May knew him longer, even if he hadn't seen her since before the turn of the millennium.
She frowned, sympathy swimming in her dark eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry. That must've been hard.”
“Yeah. It was a long time ago, though.” He shrugged, letting out a sigh. “Just glad I got to spend some more time with her before it happened.”
They walked up to the register together. Robby didn't realize he used Aria’s black card. When he took it back from the cashier, May noticed, but didn't dwell on it too hard.
Outside the record store, she asked him, “So whaddya doing back in Chi-Town?”
“Here for a wedding.” Robby admitted before he took a sip of his hot chocolate. It was going cold now.
“Oh?” May’s eyebrows lifted.
“My soulmate’s brother.” He answered.
“Ah.” A flicker of something passed through her. She looked at his wrist, finding red peeking from beneath his sleeve.
Robby bit the inside of his cheek. “Still looking for yours?”
“Mm. I'm convinced he doesn't exist or died before I could meet him.” May pursed her lips, clutching onto her bag of records tighter.
“Well, I just met mine, so there's hope for you yet.” He tried to cheer her up, voice dry. She always liked his horrible sense of humor under not-so-great circumstances.
May chuckled, a smidge of brightness coming back into her eyes. “What's her name?”
“Aria. She's—”
“Lemme guess, everything you ever wished for in a partner?”
“Yeah. Yeah, she is.”
May bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to let the envy show. It wasn't quite the relationship Aria had with Robby that she was jealous of, but the idea of having a relationship in general. The last person that really mattered to her was Robby.
“What's she like?” May hummed, hugging her bag of records to her chest. “Besides perfect.” She teased.
Robby licked his lips. He was hesitant to say too much. “She's, um, not in the medical field at all. More into the arts. A director.”
“Oh? Would I know her from something?”
Knowing May, yes, she would.
He remembered late nights spent at his apartment as she brought over her VHS collection. She had anything from Scream to Enter The Dragon to Clueless. They'd choose a genre, watch a few movies, and get distracted by undressing each other, the film playing idly in the background. Neither of them paid attention to it after both their shirts were off.
“Well, uh, probably.” Robby shrugged, his voice higher than before and his face a little redder. Not from the cold.
May laughed mischievously, “Oh, Michael Robinavitch has got himself a famous girlfriend.” She smirked, narrowing her eyes. “No, I get it, you wanna keep her to yourself for a while. Completely fine with me.”
“We only just met and I don't know if I'm compatible with that sort of… lifestyle yet.” He murmured, glancing from side to side as they crossed a street.
“Michael, she's your soulmate. You're going to be compatible.” She said it like it was a fact.
May was the only one who called him Michael still. It was jarring. Over time, ‘Robby’ just became easier. Less formal. Less complicated to say than Robinavitch. And maybe he wanted ‘Michael’ to die with his grandmother.
He was over it. Mostly.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out of his jeans.
Jesse: Hey, me and some friends are going to a bar this afternoon. Would you like to come?
Even miles away, Aria was looking out for him. It was sweet.
“Is that her?” May tried to look over his shoulder to no avail. Robby was quite tall in comparison to her.
“No, no, it's her brother. He invited me for drinks.” He stared at his phone, focused on the blinking cursor.
She hummed in response. “You should go.”
“I don't know.”
“Why not?”
“I just don't know him that well and I'm not sure if it's a good idea.”
“How will you ever get to know him if you don't hang out with him?”
“I'm old. I'm not sure we'll have much in common.”
“Oh, c'mon, you can't be that much older—”
“He's thirty-one.”
“Oh.”
Robby let out a breath. “Yeah.”
They stood on the corner of a street, by the river, as people, cars, buses, and motorcycles went past on the street. Otherwise, neither of them spoke for a while.
May’s voice was low. “And how old’s Aria?”
“Twenty-five.” He admitted.
He and Aria already had this conversation. The question about his age and if that really changed anything. It didn't. Not for Aria.
Still, it didn't ease the shame he felt. Like he was some dirty old man taking advantage of a much younger woman. He was. The thoughts swimming in his head weren't for the weak. The innocent. The saints. It made him feel worse.
“At least her frontal lobe is developed.” May tilted her head.
“What?” Robby blinked, eyebrows pinching together. Some part of him was expecting a lecture on misogyny or grooming—May was very passionate about both when they were younger.
May motioned with her free hand. “All I'm saying is that it could be worse. You could've met her before she could drink.”
Horror passed over Robby’s face. He didn't want to imagine meeting Aria when she was younger, before she turned twenty-one and especially not before eighteen.
Yeah. It could be worse.
He quite liked seeing her as a fully functioning adult. She had a quiet confidence about her that he loved which could only be gained from a few years of living on her own and knowing how to function without much outside help.
Not to mention, the physical benefits. Sure, those benefits were helped by estrogen that she had to ingest weekly, but, otherwise, Aria's assets were all natural. Her breasts sat nice and full on her chest, not huge by any means, but proportionate to her height and weight. He loved staring at her ass whenever he got the chance. Her strong thighs connected up to her backside, making the round flesh look even more enticing. Especially in jeans that hugged her hips.
May checked her watch and clicked her tongue. “I gotta go. My shift starts soon. I'll, uh, see you, maybe?” She looked up at him expectantly.
Robby snapped from his reverie. “Oh, uh, yes.” He sucked his teeth. “Actually, can we exchange numbers? I'm going back to Pittsburgh in a few days.”
It would be good for him to have a friend that wasn't Jack, Dana, or someone connected to Aria somehow.
“I’d love to!” She smiled. May quickly typed her number into Robby's phone and waved at him as she walked away. “Go to that bar! It might be nice!” She called back to him.
“Good luck on your shift!” Robby couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his lips.
He needed that. Being back in the city was one thing, having a person who he cared about around him was another. More concrete memories were connected to her.
They were both med students once upon a time. Both at Stroger. Both under the supervision of Doctor Bennet Brown. He was Robby’s first mentor. Before Adamson. May and Robby would do sutures and make it a race. She would always win because he liked listening to the stories the patients would tell him. Stories of their lives, their hopes for the future, or how they ended up in the ER. He listened to it all.
On his way back to the hotel, Robby discarded his paper cup and finally responded to Jesse.
Robby: your sister’s going to be out for a while. as long as you guys don't get a keg of beer, i think i’ll join.
Jesse: Nah, don't worry, it'll be chill.
Chill. What the hell did that mean?
Supposedly, it meant a jazz bar.
The sun was just starting to set when he met Jesse and his friends at the bar. Robby had changed into a sweater since it was getting cooler and cooler as the day hung onto the last few rays of sunlight. He entered the bar, fully expecting a dive for whatever reason—that reason was the fact that Jesse was a millennial—and was pleasantly surprised by the saxophone solo filling the air.
Jesse found him in the crowd and ushered him over to their booth. He was quickly introduced to the younger man's close friends—Alexis, Rock, Isha, and Avantika. Each of them already had a drink.
“Wasn't sure what you'd like or else I'd have a drink ready for you. What's your poison?” Jesse turned back towards Robby.
He gave a polite smile and waved him off. “I'll go to the bar myself, it's fine.”
“Alright. Suit yourself.” Jesse hummed and took a sip of his cocktail before diving into the conversation at the table.
Robby turned to the bar, admiring the atmosphere on his way over. It was dimly lit with velvet curtains by the stage, tables and chairs facing the band, with each surface donning a candle or two. The floors were scuffed and had scratches that were probably older than him.
He imagined this place in its heyday. With it brimming with people from all over the city, sometimes out of the state, as they danced so hard they sweat to notes of jazz or blues or the earliest forms of rock drifting through the air like two leaves twirling around each other. The floors would've been brand-new, brighter with a fresher coat of finish, or maybe it would've been the sweat dripping off the patrons’ bodies.
The bar top was similar to the floors, made of a similar grain of wood, with deep nicks and scrapes smoothed over with resin. He couldn't quite see what was on the bar back, but he had to assume some of those bottles hadn't moved in years.
“Can I get a whiskey sour? No cherry.” Robby offered the bartender a polite smile as he tapped his knuckles against the bar top.
As he waited for his drink to be made, he glanced back at the table. Jesse and his friends were paying rapt attention to the musicians onstage.
There was hope for this generation, yet.
He actually had a good time. For the first time in a week, maybe even before that, he didn’t think too hard. He ate, he drank, he laughed, and shared stories when conversation began to flow out his mouth like a waterfall. The group listened, laughed when they needed to, commented on his stories, and told their own stories in return.
Jesse told several stories of his childhood with Aria. He had stolen something of hers—he couldn’t remember exactly what it was—which resulted in an argument and, eventually, her scratching him so hard he had to get stitches. He showed off the scars like they were his own little badges of honor. Another time, he nearly ran her over with his sled during a snow day off school. She didn’t get terribly hurt, but she was covered head-to-toe with snow.
By the time he got back to the hotel room, Robby was pleasantly tipsy with a faint flush across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He checked around the room. Aria was still nowhere to be found. Seemed like the bride was intending to have a better night than the groom.
Robby let out a tired breath and rubbed his forehead as he walked over to his suitcase to get ready for bed. He didn’t really change, just shucked off his pants and pulled on an old, comfortable sweatshirt that he had for thirty years or more. It still fit, so he never got rid of it.
Once he was about to settle in for bed, he noticed Aria’s sketchbook sitting on the desk. While she was healing, he saw her doodling to pass the time but he never saw any of those doodles. Fueled by the alcohol and curiosity, he sat in bed and flipped through it with his glasses on.
Inside were mostly portraits, pages full of faces he didn’t recognize. Although, there were some he did. Quite a few pages were full of Sloane and the different expressions she’d make and of the celebrities Aria worked with while filming. Each page was named and dated.
Daniel Craig—7/27/23
Then there was a huge jump of time up to this year with a bunch of portraits she noted as practice, likely thinking herself as rusty, but there wasn’t really that much change in quality. If anything, the more recent portraits were better.
Suddenly, Robby stopped flipping through the pages.
His face was plastered all over the paper. There were sketches of him reading, with his glasses on, with them off, looking up at something, head tilted to the side, facing forward, looking down, with coffee, with gloves on, and seemingly a million others. By far, these sketches were the best—shaded to perfection, capturing the little details of the freckles beneath his eyes, and the depth of his cheekbones. He looked like a renaissance painting, if done with graphite and charcoal.
Robby hated staring at himself, however, he couldn’t deny how beautiful these looked. His cheeks burned.
When the doorknob began to jiggle, Robby threw the sketchbook onto the desk like it burned him. He could almost feel the weight of it still in his hand.
Aria stumbled into the room with a small laugh, closing the door with a light slam. “Robby! Hi! I’ve missed you so much.” Her glasses were askew and her jacket was falling from one shoulder.
Great. She was drunk.
She attempted to climb into bed, but she tripped and fell on her own feet on her way over. “Fuck.” She whined and rolled onto her back, rubbing her ankle.
Robby helped Aria up with a hand around her waist, concerned that she might’ve rolled her ankle. “You okay, baby?”
Aria’s eyes didn’t quite focus on his face. “I shouldn’t have given into peer pressure and drank that much.” She blinked slowly, then squinted at him. “Please keep calling me ‘baby.’ You take such good care of me,” Her voice went sad and her eyes began to well with tears, bottom lip trembling, “I wish you’d take care of yourself too. You look like a dog. A sweet, slightly neglected, senior dog!”
“Alright. You had a little too much to drink, huh?” Robby didn’t dwell much on her words. He helped her out of her coat. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.”
“Okay.” Aria sniffled.
Her body was guided onto the bed as he began to undo her jeans and pulled them off. He didn’t bother with the sweater. His palms slid up to her hips, passing by the tattoos on her thighs. His eyes lingered on the skull and crossbones with Latin written underneath it.
“Robby?” She asked in a murmur, eyes drooping. It was late and she was tired and, yet, she still wanted to talk.
“Hm?” Robby’s eyes traveled up her body until they met hers.
“Can you kiss me?” Her tone was so innocent, but he could hear the mischief underlying it.
Robby chuckled softly and shook his head. “Not tonight.” His hands slipped underneath her sweater, simply holding her waist as he stared, amused.
“Why not?”
“You’re drunk, baby. Maybe some other time.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“The wedding’s tomorrow.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not sure it’s a good practice to have your first kiss at someone else’s wedding.”
Warnings: angst, smut, male masturbation, highlighting the age gap, background mel x oc, transphobia.
Word Count: 6.4k
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Aria was the first to wake up. Disoriented either by the time change or lingering jet lag, she didn't realize her arms were around something more solid than the usual pillow she held as she slept. She nuzzled into the soft tuft of hair she felt wisping against her face.
She managed to become the big spoon to Robby’s little spoon. A hand on his stomach, cradling him close so his back pressed against her chest.
Her other hand rubbed against her face, eyes fuzzy from lack of glasses but she could see just fine that Robby was closer than he had been when they originally went to bed. Her heart pounded in her chest but she didn't move, taking the opportunity to study him while he was unconscious.
His hair was nearly entirely deep brown, she thought it was funny considering the white and greys growing in his beard but not the rest of his head. Her eyes gravitated towards the piercing holes in his ears, then to the inked script on his upper arm. She could only see the bottom of it since it was partly covered by his shirt.
Aria began to wonder what his life was like years ago, what led him to get these little body modifications. Was it his own little act of rebellion? Was he the typical “bad boy” in med school? What did his tattoos mean?
Her own tattoos and piercings were a result of the freedom she gained by leaving her parents and traveling to Pittsburgh. She'd always wanted art on her skin ever since she was a kid and, now, that dream had come true. Of course, that dream wasn't fully realized because she still had some space left to work with.
Slowly, Aria pulled away from Robby, sheets rustling softly as she moved, and got up to shower.
As the shower head sprayed water, muffled by the wall and glass separating the rooms but not completely silencing the sound, Robby began to wake. He rolled onto his back and brushed a hand through his hair as his eyes slowly blinked open.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt so warm while asleep. Sure, his body radiated warmth like a heater but this felt different, like someone wrapped a heated, weighted blanket around him. His hand splayed over where Aria slept, feeling the heat leftover from her body.
Robby sat up against the headboard and took a glance at the frosted pane of the bathroom. Aria was there, bare curves fuzzy and obscured as she stood under the spray. He quickly looked away, face red, opting to stare out the window as the sun came up above the city skyline, a growing tightness in his boxers.
Yes, while Robby had seen a million bare bodies and there were times he treated Aria’s like just another one to add to that number, it was easier to forget that he wanted to see her body when it was submerged in bathwater rather than a shower spray that made thousands of tiny droplets roll down her skin, enticing him.
He took a deep breath and got out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his face with his hands. That's when he noticed the coffee maker in the room. It was on top of the minibar pushed into the corner of the room.
Would it be good? Probably not. Coffee from these sorts of hotel machines was bad regardless of how fancy the hotel was supposed to be. Would he try it anyway? Of course. He ran on coffee, shitty or not.
Robby started the coffee maker, grabbing a mug from beside it. He blew a puff of air inside it to be sure there wasn't any dust.
As he waited for the coffee to brew, he heard the shower turn off. Aria came out a few minutes later with clothes on and a towel in her hair. The outfit wasn't anything special necessarily but she knew how to style it well. She wore a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up and a ribbed tank underneath, both tucked into belted bootcut jeans, silver and blue bracelets were around her wrists and steel star earrings decorated her lobes.
And, for the first time, Robby saw the piercings she had in her face. There was a ring in her septum, small spikes in her brow, and bulbs on her nose bridge. All silver.
He nearly forgot about the coffee, quickly pouring it into the mug and taking a large gulp that burned the roof of his mouth.
Aria lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything as she grabbed her glasses from the nightstand to put them on. “I was thinking about going out for breakfast. So I don't have to run into my parents sooner than I want to.” She pulled her towel down and scrunched her hair with it.
“Are you gonna pay again?” Robby leaned against the minibar, scratching at the side of his head.
She chuckled. “Yeah. I am.” She threw the towel onto the couch. “Do you have a problem with that?” Her tone wasn't accusing, just curious.
“No, I just—” He rubbed his forehead with his palm. “I wish you'd let me pay for things too.”
Aria regarded him more seriously. “Look, you're here because of me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come at all, so, in exchange for your presence, just let me do this for you.” She urged, eyebrows furrowed.
Surely money couldn't buy happiness, but it sure made life a whole lot easier. She didn't have to worry about bills or not being able to afford the life she wanted anymore. Her first successful film at the box office paid for her facial feminization surgery and tattoos for the following year.
Now, she had a whole lot of money that she had no idea what to do with. Not a billion dollars but way more than she could spend herself. So why not spend it on the one person she was destined to be with for the rest of her life? He wasn't spending much of his own money on himself but she was so easily offering up her own.
Robby conceded. “Alright,” He rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand, “Let me shower, then we’ll go.”
“Fine with me.” Aria shrugged and turned to the desk with the mirror sitting on it. “Just don't take too long. I’m pretty hungry.” She began to take out her makeup from her backpack and set it on the desk.
He set his coffee on the minibar and entered the bathroom. He set his hands on the sink counter as he looked in the mirror, taking a breath.
Aria was trying to care for him—in her own way—and it was fucking with his head. He wasn't used to it. Sure, people asked how he was doing, but when he lied, they just moved on, even if they didn't believe him. Aria didn't do that. Aria insisted. She pushed. She made him get things he wouldn't normally get and it made him feel weirdly warm. She looked at him like he was valuable, not because he had anything material to offer, or because of his medical prowess, but simply for existing. And, God, did he feel valuable when she looked at him.
Robby let out a puff of air before he turned the shower on and began to strip his clothes off until the only thing he wore was the golden chain around his neck. His cock was half-hard and he cursed at himself, feeling exposed because of the glass pane. Even blurry, he was sure that if Aria even glanced in the direction of the bathroom, she'd be able to tell.
He attempted to discern what she was doing. She seemed distracted at the desk, putting on makeup. Good. She wouldn't be looking in his direction soon.
Stepping under the spray, Robby let out a sigh as the warmth seeped into his skin. Some droplets trickled down the bridge of his nose and dripped off the tip.
For a while, he tried to forget about the throbbing weight between his legs and focused more on getting clean. He hadn't packed any shampoo or anything, suspecting the hotel would have them and, while they did, Aria had her own compact shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sitting on the shower ledge. He used those. It was a mistake.
The scent he caught a whiff of only in passing was a mixture of blood orange and burning oak. It was stronger now that he lathered it all over his body, his mind feeling as fuzzy as the frosted glass, and his cock responded with a valiant twitch. That surely wasn't going away anytime soon.
“Fuck me.” Robby ground out, wiping away the water from his face. He stole a glance towards Aria, who seemingly had her headphones in and was doing something on her computer. “Fuck it.”
He pressed a hand against the tiled wall and wrapped his other hand around his cock, stroking slowly at first. His head fell forward with a satisfied sigh.
Fuck, Aria smelled so good. He wondered where the scent would be stronger. Her neck? The inside of her elbow? Maybe it would be the valley between her breasts, where a naval cutlass with roses was inked into her skin.
Robby groaned lowly as images began to appear in his head, each one more vulgar than the last. Her mouth around his cock, looking up at him from underneath those long lashes with those siren eyes. His cock inside her as her face contorted into fucked-out bliss, heels digging at his back as she urged him to go harder, faster.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He chanted, mind so far away that he forgot Aria could likely hear him. His hand flexed against the wall, fingers digging into the grooves of the tile. “Shit—” He hissed.
It was both a blessing and a curse in this instance that he came quickly. A blessing because he didn't want to seem like he was taking too long. A curse because, well, how long would he last when he actually had sex with Aria? Hopefully not that short. She was young and likely had a higher sex drive.
The running water washed all of the cum down the drain, leaving no trace of what happened except for the lingering shame and embarrassment in Robby's head. Thank God for the good water pressure in this hotel.
Getting out of the shower presented another problem. Once the water was off and he stepped out, he took one of the fluffy white towels folded on the shelves and began to dry his hair. He quickly realized he didn't take any clothes into the bathroom with him.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, Robby left the bathroom to be met with Aria staring at him, an eyebrow raised.
He blushed. “I, uh, forgot to take clothes into the bathroom.”
“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a knowing look in her eyes that was complete with the barest of smirks at the edges of her lips.
Awkwardly, Robby looked through his suitcase to find something, anything to put on. The redness of his face didn't go away and wouldn't anytime soon, unfortunately for him.
“It's gonna be a little chilly today, so I suggest layers.” Aria commented as she pulled on a brown leather jacket and completed her outfit with her Cubs baseball cap. Dark boots with royal blue laces were already on her feet when he came out of the shower.
Consciously or not, he took that advice and ended up in a similar outfit to hers. A white ribbed tank top underneath a navy blue button-up, however, it was tucked into his dark wash jeans. He threw on a black jacket and some comfortable sneakers.
Before leaving, Robby ran some beard oil through his facial hair in the bathroom mirror.
“You smell good.” Aria sniffed the air around him as they left the room.
“Thanks.” He murmured, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
The city was gloomy, a gray haze of clouds in the sky. Sun peeked through some holes in the clouds to cast heavenly rays onto the pavement. However, it didn't feel horrible to be in the midst of. The windy city always looked magical when there was a bit of rain.
As they walked, for some odd reason, Robby realized just how tall Aria was. Most people were shorter than him. Most of his coworkers, at least. Langdon and some of the male nurses might've been the only ones around his height. Now, there was Aria. Who matched his steps with ease and guided him through the streets of the city.
The café she chose wasn't too far away, but far enough that she hoped her parents or her brother and his wife wouldn't stroll in. Knowing them, they'd probably take the complimentary breakfast over having to go out for anything.
Inside was cozy, with walls lined in full or half-full bookshelves, leather booths, and charming bistro tables and chairs. A neon sign in cursive script hung behind the coffee bar.
Immediately, Aria chose a booth in the corner by the windows. Robby slid next to her.
“Hey! My name's Jake, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you anything to drink this morning? Coffee? Tea? Water?” He asked, setting some napkins on the table to be used as coasters.
The waiter reminded Aria a lot of her brother in his looks. But Jesse wasn't quite as enthusiastic about anything—save for his soon-to-be wife—like this guy was.
“Coffee. Black, please.” Robby answered first, rubbing a little at his face. He hadn't finished his first cup and knew he needed another to feel normal for the rest of the day.
Jake nodded and jotted it down on his personal notepad. “For you, Ms. Kaminski?”
Cue both Aria and Robby's confused faces. Aria quickly shook herself from it and said, “An iced vanilla latte, please.”
“Sure. I'll be back with those drinks in a few minutes.” He gave them a thumbs-up before he left.
Robby took out his glasses to take a look at the menu. Just a quick one since there wasn't a lot to choose from anyway. He appreciated the simplicity, though. Once he decided, he looked at Aria. Really looked at her for the first time that day.
Her makeup was quite simple. A rusty color graced her eyelids, darker on the outer corner and under eye, that really made her blue eyes stand out behind her glasses, some mascara on her lashes, and an orangish blush on her cheeks and nose made her somewhat adorable.
“Who else should I know for today?” He broke the silence.
Jesse and Valeria's rehearsal dinner was scheduled for the evening. Their parents would be there, but so would a lot of others important in their lives, and Robby did not want to come unprepared.
Aria looked back at him, pursing her lips for a moment. “Valeria has one sister—Sole. Her mother is Manuela and her father is Oscar. They're not gonna really care about you like my family will, they'll probably just be happy we found each other.” She shrugged and noticed Jake was coming back with their drinks, so she silenced herself.
He set the drinks down in front of them. “Here you are. If you're ready, I can take your food order now.”
“I’ll have the brisket hash.” Aria said with a polite smile and gave the man her menu.
Robby looked between Jake and Aria. There was something uncomfortable in the air. Or maybe he was just being territorial over his soulmate. “And I'm gonna get an eggs benedict.” He handed his menu to Jake as well.
The waiter stayed perhaps a moment too long before he turned to put their order in.
“He might have a crush on you.” Robby pointed out. He was lightly amused but overall unimpressed.
Aria snorted. “He probably thinks you're my dad, so he'll have a chance.”
“Please don't say that ever again.” He groaned, sliding his hands underneath his glasses.
Robby tried not to think about how he was only a few years younger than Aria's biological father. At one point, he could've been friends with Rick. Not that he ever would have given the things she's told him about her father, but the proximity in age was unsettling nonetheless.
It was hard not to think about it. About how he had a whole thirty years of life before she was ever born. It made him feel dirty. The shower that morning didn't help.
“You know I don't care, right?” Aria nudged his arm with her elbow.
“What?” He breathed.
“I don't care that you're older.” She clarified. “You're fifty. Not a hundred. I'd be concerned if the universe decided my soulmate was some geriatric, senile senior citizen on the verge of death. Which you are not, as much as Sloane may joke about it.”
Robby wrinkled his nose at the mention of Sloane's jokes. She asked him how the Great Depression was like he was secretly born in the early 1900s every other shift they had together.
“Your brother did say I was your type.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched warmth bloom across her cheeks.
Aria averted her eyes and shook her head. “He needs to learn how to shut the fuck up.”
“No, I wanna know what he meant by that.” He teased, brushing his shoulder against hers.
For a moment, she didn't dignify him with a response, sulking like a child denied candy. Except she was an adult, so she sucked up her pride and let out a sigh. “Ever since I could be attracted to anyone, like seven or eight, maybe, I gravitated towards older guys. Like late thirties, early fifties.” She still didn't meet his gaze, which made a smirk grow on his lips. “My first crush was Robert Downey Junior in Iron Man.”
“So, I am your type.” Robby’s voice wasn't teasing anymore. Just contemplative.
Aria wrapped her hand around her glass, feeling the need to hold something. “Am I yours?” Her tone was inquisitive, if also slightly self-conscious.
He tilted his head, a pinch between his eyebrows. She was very much his type that it hurt him. He always gravitated towards level-headed brunettes that seemed almost cold on the outside but were so incredibly compassionate on the inside, rather than bumbling bimbo blondes. He loved her tattoos, large ones that peeked through her clothes even now, and piercings that gave her a dangerous edge.
“Yeah.” He nodded, eyes trailing over the silver in her skin just to find the jut of her lip. His eyes quickly snapped back up to hers.
Aria smirked. “Well, I’d hope so or the universe would have a lot to answer for.”
Robby hummed in agreement as he took a gulp of his coffee. He was right. This was much better than the shit they had lying around at the hotel.
Soon enough, they got back on topic about Aria's family and the important members that were going to be at the rehearsal dinner and wedding.
She broke it down by her mother's side and her father's side.
On her father's side, there was Aunt Christie. She was a blonde fifty-year-old with wild curls and a hippie-like clothing choice who assumed the guise of “loving everyone,” but really didn't. Like all hippies. Her husband passed away a few years ago, but they had two children together, Lilian—or Lily—who was older, and Maisey, who was younger. The entire family was blonde and blue-eyed. Lilian followed her mother’s example in terms of clothes, but seemed to genuinely care about others and became a civil engineer operating out of Chicago. Maisey was a hard one to pick out. She dressed in all black most days and thought of herself as punk. Except she loved cops. At one point, she wanted to be one. Instead, she went to college for forensics.
Robby wasn't sure what to make of that information. It made his head spin. “And these people are related to you?”
Of course, family was complicated, but it was hard to comprehend that Aria was related to people who were not like her at all. Someone who embodied the word punk like it was a living, breathing thing. She may not have always dressed punk, but her existence was good enough. She defied a world that hated her.
“Unfortunately.” Aria sighed, sipping from her latte with a straw.
Then there was her mother's side, seemingly more complicated. Uncle Johnny and Aunt Laurie. They were a little older, in their sixties. Johnny looked like a classic Italian-American man, with dark hair combed to one side that he hung onto as much as possible because he was balding, a golden chain around his neck at all times, and a smattering of hair everywhere. Laurie was bone-thin with a hairstyle that hadn't changed in the mid-80s and still somewhat dressed like the decades hadn't changed since she was a teenager. Aria noted Laurie was Jewish, too, but held the same sorts of hateful values Johnny, Rick, and Angela had.
Not all Jewish people were the same, as no one group of people could ever be exactly the same, but it still shocked Robby that the people who shared his religion could be like that. Most weren't, because they knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of hatred and treated others with compassion as a result.
Johnny and Laurie’s two children—Eric and Nathan—were yellow areas. Aria wasn't quite sure where they stood in regard to her, but she didn't want to find out. They had more of a connection to her brothers because they were closer in age, anyway.
“They're nice to me, sure, but I can't tell if it's from a place of obligation or if it's genuine.” Aria said between bites of food. Their food arrived as they talked.
Jake didn't deliver it because he was busy waiting other tables as more people came. Robby was thankful for that.
Robby watched as she brought the fork to her mouth. “Then it's definitely fair you're keeping your distance.”
She hummed with a nod, more distracted by her food. He couldn't blame her. There was just something in the water that made the food better in Chicago. Maybe it was the bodies in the river buried under layers of sediment. Or the trash. Or that one of the largest freshwater lakes was right next door.
Though nothing compared to the meals Aria prepared in the comfort of her apartment. Sometimes dinners took a whole day to complete, a true labor of love, or they'd be as quick as a few minutes. Still, they were as delicious as if Michelin-starred restaurants prepared them. Better, even, because the portion size wasn't so small.
On the walk back to the hotel, Aria nudged him. “So, you said you were here for your residency… when was that?” Her boots clicked softly against the sidewalk.
“‘97.” Robby met her eyes, mirroring her stance with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.
“Before 9/11, huh?” She commented, eyes trailing over the buildings around them. “You ever been to any games while you were here?”
He shrugged, glancing over at the train as it went by overhead. “I went to a few Bulls and Sox games. The Cubs and Bears were way too expensive for a broke first-year resident.” He chuckled.
“Still are.” Aria hummed.
“You're a Cubs fan?” Robby glanced up at her hat. It was clear evidence, but he still wanted to know for certain.
Her lips drew into a tight line as her eyes grew sad. “My dad was. Is.”
“Oh.” He felt stupid for bringing it up.
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Blame yourself for something you had no idea about.”
Robby’s lips were parted, like he wanted to say something else, but he quickly closed them. Yes, it was a blessing and a curse to have a soulmate. A blessing and a curse to instinctively know someone so well because they reminded you of yourself.
“It's okay,” Aria said firmly. “I just felt like I needed to tell you. I'm obviously a fan, too, more than the Sox.” She shrugged.
“We all have our flaws.” Robby automatically teased.
She scoffed, “At least the Cubs have the more recent World Series win.”
“After a hundred-year drought.” He smirked.
“The Sox won in 2005 only after ninety years!” Aria slapped his arm, voice rising with passion.
When it was time for the rehearsal dinner, the sky began to weep. Whether it was from joy or sadness was hard to say.
The venue was decked out with a vaulted glass ceiling, the walls were paneled in an opulent design, the floors were hardwood and well-maintained since the building was quite old, and on each table was an assortment of dark and bright flowers. Jesse represented the dark flowers—irises and black dahlias—while Valeria represented the bright flowers—an array of multicolored tulips and azaleas.
Since it was just dinner, the dress code wasn’t formal, but it was dressy. Aria traded her bootcut jeans for slacks, rolled up her sleeves, and discarded her jacket and cap. Robby’s line of thinking was similar. He tucked his navy button-up into his pants, traded his sneakers for black loafers, and left his coat at the hotel.
Valeria, who wore a beautiful casual white dress that draped over her chest, and Jesse, who wore slacks and a maroon short-sleeved button-up, came up to them as soon as they entered, disregarding the other guests.
Valeria hugged Aria tight. “I hope you’re okay, sweetheart. You really scared me. I heard what happened on the news and from Jesse and I… couldn’t imagine if something worse happened.” She cupped Aria’s cheek, eyebrows worrying together.
“Well, I’m very much alive thanks to this one.” Aria jerked her head towards Robby. She appreciated the thought, but loathed to keep up with this physical touch.
Valeria brightened as she turned to him, her hands falling from Aria. “Right! You must be Robby!” Aria and Jesse shared a look. Valeria took his hand and shook it before he had the chance to offer it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Valeria.” He didn’t seem fazed at all and gave her a polite smile. “Aria tells me it’s your first time in Chicago. Did you have anything you wanted to do here before you got married?”
And just like that, Valeria stole Robby away to talk about her plans tomorrow, with suggestions given to her by Aria. Tomorrow was a free day, to have some fun or relax before the wedding, so that gave her a little time to explore the city that helped shape her soon-to-be husband and soulmate.
Aria and Jesse watched as Valeria introduced Robby to her parents and talked enthusiastically about her upcoming itinerary. The older man took everything with ease, occasionally chuckling at the things she said. Aria hoped she wasn’t telling him embarrassing stories about her because there were plenty to choose from.
Jesse commented, a fond smile on his face, “You know, she’s been dying for someone to ask her that.”
“Is this your way of saying you approve?” Aria crossed her arms and bumped her elbow against his arm.
He rolled his eyes, exasperated by his little sister. “It’s my way of saying I think he’s nice. I can’t “approve” of him because I’m not in control of the soulmate lottery.”
Another voice chimed in. “And thank God for that.”
“Sloane.” Jesse stared at her.
“Jesse.” She stared back.
The serious and comically tense atmosphere didn’t last long. The three of them burst into laughter.
Aria hugged Sloane, a bright smile on her lips. “Your flight was okay?” She asked the shorter woman.
“Yeah, slept like a baby.” She shrugged.
“And how's it going with your soulmate?” Jesse intervened in the mini-reunion.
Sloane looked at the direction of Mel, who was looking around the venue, taking it all in. “She's great. Great in bed, too.” She turned back to the siblings who stared at her, unimpressed.
If not physically, anyone would be able to tell Aria and Jesse were siblings, given their alike mannerisms. The way they stared at someone who said something incredibly stupid was strikingly similar.
“One week of knowing her and you've already slept together?” Aria raised an eyebrow.
“She's hot! What do you want me to do?” Sloane pouted.
Jesse chuckled, “How old are you again?”
“Twenty-six.” She ducked her head.
“Right, you're not a teenager anymore.” The amused tone in his voice wasn't going away anytime soon.
Sloane insistently shook her head. “The only reason Aria hasn't jumped Robby's bones yet is because she was hurt and he might pop a hip. If she wasn't, then she would've done the same!”
“Or maybe I'm not a sex freak.” Aria suggested with a light laugh.
Jesse scoffed, “I don't need to know about that. Whether you are or not, I don’t need to know about that.” He rubbed his forehead.
They were almost like siblings, the three of them. It was the reason Sloane was invited separately from Aria rather than assuming to be her plus one. Nevertheless, Jesse was the eldest brother. The one they could come to if they needed anything. More or less. He did happen to live hundreds of miles away in New York.
He taught Aria lots of things when they were growing up—the best sites to pirate movies and shows on, how to build computers, how to play baseball. He introduced her to some of his favorite video games, which then became her favorites. He was her sponsor for her Catholic confirmation. They both were no longer religious. If they ever were.
Most of the dinner went by fine. Each guest learned their designated tables and they ran through the speech order, some recited theirs or gave a summary to save it for the real reception.
Aria was the only person in Jesse’s family who was set to give a speech. Neither of their parents nor their brother. Her. The rest of his party’s speeches were to be given by his close friends. Hers was suspected to be the best overall. She was a writer, after all. But, for some reason, writing about her brother and new sister-in-law didn't come easy.
So, when it was her turn to stand and everyone's eyes were on her—including the distasteful gaze of her parents as they sat across the room—she simply said, “Insert heartfelt speech here.” With a motion of brackets with her hands before she sat down.
That earned her a few laughs, including a chuckle from Robby. She wondered if she'd ever make him full-on laugh or if she'd ever see it. She imagined his laughter was warm and started deep in his chest, causing his shoulders to shake heartily.
“Have you actually written anything down yet?” Robby asked between sips of some specialty drink made with whiskey that the venue offered.
Aria whispered in case, somehow, her brother could hear. “I have some bullets I wanna hit, but I haven't written out the whole thing.” It was embarrassing to admit.
She could write an entire script in the span of a week with another week or two for edits, but she couldn't write a speech for her brother's wedding. Pathetic in her eyes. It was deceptively simple. How could she write about a person she'd known all her life who never wronged her? She could formulate novels about her father. And mother.
“I'm sure it'll be great.” Robby gave her an encouraging smile.
She chuckled nervously. “I don't know about that.” An artist who was confident in their work was not really an artist. “How would you know, anyway? Sloane tells me you don't watch movies.”
“I've watched a few of yours.” He admitted, tilting his head away from her as the tips of his ears went red.
“Really?” Aria felt her heart beating hard in her chest. She felt like she could cry just from hearing it.
“Yeah.” Robby said warmly. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened.
She could tell he liked them just from the look on his face and that made her feel more accomplished than any trophy that could have ever been awarded to her.
Robby’s eyes focused on something just past her. The warmth in his eyes drained. “Your parents are coming over.” He warned.
Aria pursed her lips. She should have expected it sooner rather than later. They always loved to talk to her, confront her, for some reason. There was some sort of obsession with attempting to morph her back into the person they wished she would be.
The man they thought she should be.
Sure enough, the shadows of her parents standing over them appeared. Robby was, regrettably, able to get a much better look at both of them compared to having to see them from across the room at the hotel restaurant.
“You must be Robby.” Rick completely ignored the presence of his daughter in favor of the man next to her.
A bad taste budded in Robby's mouth when Rick said his name. It felt too informal of him to say. They weren't friends and he had no plans to change that. “Michael, actually. Robinavitch.” To seem somewhat kind and not cause a scene, he stuck out his hand.
Rick took it and nodded, not quite realizing the distance Robby attempted to put between them.
“Michael, are you really my son's soulmate or did he pay you to tell everyone that?” Angela accused, somehow more sympathetic towards him rather than Aria.
The surrounding idle chatter or sounds of glasses and utensils seemed to still from the tension. Eyes were on them. Jesse gave Aria a sympathetic look, unsure how to rectify the situation. Well, there was a clear answer. One he didn't want to accept.
For a moment, Robby was stunned. Speechless. That was quickly rectified. “Your daughter almost died in front of my eyes, do you think I would make shit like that up?” His words were tight, clipped, and full of indignation.
Sometimes, when he was asleep, he thought he might've lost her. That she had died and stained his hands red. He could still feel the warmth of her blood seeping through his gloves as he pushed against her stomach, both to put pressure on the wound but also to try to frantically keep the blood inside her. Right person, wrong time.
He woke up last night, around midnight, and felt Aria pressed against his back after one of those nightmares. He nearly cried. She was alive. She was there. And she gravitated towards him like a planet to its sun. Eventually, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
“And for the record,” Robby pushed his sleeve up, showing off the red line etched into his wrist, and stood abruptly. “Your daughter is such a beautiful, talented woman who I hope becomes even more successful to spite your bullshit.” The dangerous edge of his voice seeped further into his words.
Her parents’ stare was disapproving, mixed with a flicker of fear. He had quite a lot of height on them—more so on her mother—imposing up on them.
Aria stood as well, taking Robby’s hand. She glared at her parents, but didn't say anything as she pulled Robby away from the table. The dinner was ending soon anyway.
As soon as they exited the venue and were surrounded by the city once again, cars drove past as the train whirred by not too far away and the rain had suddenly stopped, she dropped his hand and he mourned the feeling of her skin against his.
“Couldn't help yourself, could you?” She raised an eyebrow. Not accusing. Not mad. Patient.
Robby huffed, not meeting her eyes. “You should see me after the worst shift of my life.” The hand she held flexed.
Most times he had more patience for those who wanted to test it. Those who wanted to think they knew more than him. The man with the medical degree. More than half the time, those people searched their symptoms up on Google and immediately assumed the worst. Or, and these were the more perplexing, convinced themselves it wasn't as bad as Robby told them it was.
At first, he thought he might be able to keep it in if Aria's parents managed to interact with them. He quickly realized they didn't deserve his mercy.
“I'm fine, you know.” Aria insisted as they walked around the city. “I made peace with them a while ago. I don't care what they think anymore, so when they say the wrong things, it doesn't hurt.”
Robby could see the truth in her words. She had lived years without her parents and had existed not solely for their approval anymore. Still, a fire lit inside him when a single spark of their hatred found his gasoline.
“Maybe not,” His eyes morphed into something more gentle, kinder. Reserved just for her. “But you're my soulmate. I can't just… sit when someone says something like that.”
Aria went quiet. Rarely was she ever speechless like this.
Social conditioning went a long way. Plenty of men married to women, or men who dated women, soulmate or otherwise, didn't defend their women when friends or family talked horribly about them.
Robby was not that. Not at all. He fought for her. If not with armor and sword, then with his sharp tongue and intellect.
Love was not an idle thing. It was something to lay down a life for. To change one's entire life just to fit it in. To fight for limited time, to sit just outside a door without a real glimpse of a lover, but just to feel close. It moved and infected everyone one way or another. Platonic or romantic. It had no care for imaginary borders, red lines bloomed across cultures, across genders. Binary or not.
Aria and Robby haven't even mentioned the word yet. They didn't need to. They both felt it. Intense and all-consuming, yet gentle like waves crashing onto a beach.
Warnings: angst, minor medical procedures, light angst, mentions of transphobia.
Word Count: 5.2k
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As the week progressed, a routine began. Robby would make Aria breakfast in the mornings, help her bathe in the tub, they would sit around for a bit, talk, watch something, he looked at her stitches and made sure she was healing okay, have lunch, more time for learning about one another, and then Aria would likely make dinner.
Today was the day she’d get her stitches out. And take their flight to Chicago.
It was the afternoon when Aria spread on her back across her bed. Her shirt was off, putting her healed skin on display. Her bedroom was somewhat of a mess with their suitcases. Aria’s was well-made with an aluminum casing, but well-loved with small indents and various stickers from places she'd been, while Robby’s was made of plastic and was lightly stained in some places from either age or some sort of coffee stain that he couldn't scrub out. If he was honest, he wasn't sure the last time he had to travel for anything that didn't warrant him only bringing a backpack or a duffel.
Robby pulled on gloves with a light snap and gathered his materials, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. A pair of sterilized surgical scissors and tweezers, along with some cotton swabs and antiseptic, sat on a silver tray he grabbed from home.
“You sure you didn't want to go back to the hospital to get these removed?” He gave her one last out. He disapproved of an at-home stitch removal.
Though he loathed to think of what would have happened if he were not around. How badly would it have gone? So, maybe an at-home stitch removal done by him wasn't the worst thing in the world. He knew what he was doing.
Aria stared up at the ceiling and shook her head. “I'm not waiting for eight hours for something that takes fifteen minutes.”
With a sigh, Robby nodded. “Alright.”
He stood over the affected area and began to cut the small knots of the stitches, pulling them out with the tweezers one by one. He set the snipped threads on the tray to throw away later.
Once the first wound was done, he took the antiseptic swab and dabbed it on the remaining scar to clean it. Aria winced slightly. “You're doing great, baby.” Robby had to resist the urge to rub a soothing circle into her skin.
The encouragement worked well enough. Aria’s stomach unclenched and she took a deep breath.
He couldn't help but smile as he began to snip and pull out the stitches of her other gunshot wound. “That's it, baby. Breathe. Good.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aria turn red and turn her head away from him.
It wasn't the embarrassment she felt when getting naked around him. Not at all. It was different from that. Still embarrassment of some kind, sure, but more because she liked the praise. His smile turned into a devious smirk. He'd use that information for a later date.
Once all the stitches were out, Robby pulled off his gloves and inspected the scars left on her skin. “You're healing well.” His hand hovered over her abdomen, thumb swiping across the lightened skin. “Does that hurt?”
“Not really, it's just tender.” Aria drew in a breath at his touch, focusing on his face.
He stared back at her and withdrew his hand even though he was tempted not to. Even though he wanted to do more. “That's good. That's normal. But I still want you to be careful.” He stood up fully and adjusted his glasses so they sat up higher on the bridge of his nose.
Aria let out an irritated sigh as she sat up and grabbed her shirt to put it on. “Whatever you say, Doctor.” She teased.
Robby resisted the urge to say something that would make her even more irritated with him. He left the room to discard the stitches in the trash and wash the instruments he used.
Ever since their conversation, he tried his best to be more lenient with Aria’s care, but he fell back into his usual thought process a lot. It was hard to kick the habit of strict care and ritual when that was all he knew for a while. It didn't matter when he got hurt, it mattered when other people got hurt. Especially when they were people he deeply cared about.
Aria was his soulmate, yes, but he didn't expect to feel so deeply for her so fast. She was fragile to him because he knew how fragile the human body could be. How easy a delicate machine like them could deteriorate. Over years, decades, bodies kept on life support for the hope that, one day, they would be able to live again. They wouldn't. Or, in one single stroke of fate, a young life could be snuffed out like blowing out candlelight. That could have been her.
“You good to go?” Aria pulled her backpack over her shoulder, adjusting the strap for a moment. She held her suitcase by its side handle.
Robby nodded, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, let me go get my stuff.”
He couldn't remember the last time he had an afternoon flight. Hell, it's been a while since he had been on any sort of flight.
Being in the airport felt strange. It was a huge maze that he couldn't navigate. Thankfully, Aria could. He had to assume that she traveled a lot by plane for work. She barely had to look up to read the signs, but she did check their tickets a few times to see which gate they had to be at.
Gate B28. From Pittsburgh International to Chicago O’Hare International.
Robby felt a building anticipation when they got on the plane. Like something big would change. Or he just had flight anxiety, but he didn't think that was it.
Aria got them both first-class tickets. Originally, she was flying alone but didn't mind spending the extra money for Robby's ticket. He didn't want to make her spend the money, not used to someone else offering it up so easily. Like it was nothing, just a few quarters in a bucket full of hundred-dollar bills.
His soulmate was rich.
It showed in her apartment. The penthouse. It seemed like she was able to design it herself because it felt like her. More than if it were just decorated with her things.
Over the previous week, he had watched a couple of her films while she was asleep. She kept CDs in a cabinet under her TV. Each case had the theatrical cut and the director’s cut inside, labeled with her handwriting. Obviously, he went for the director’s cut.
He understood why she was successful. Perhaps it was his bias talking, but he wasn't much of a film person to begin with, so getting him to enjoy one was quite a feat.
“You okay?” Aria asked, gently squeezing his arm as they shared an armrest.
She sat at the window seat, blinds open to see the afternoon sun over the tarmac as they taxied. It created a halo effect across the side of her face, making her look heavenly.
Robby attempted to give her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, it's just…” He shrugged, “It's been a while since I've been to Chicago.”
She tilted her head. “You've been to Chicago before?”
He knew it was her hometown. The place where she grew up until her parents uprooted their family down south for her father's job. She didn't tell him much else about her parents. He had his own connection to the city.
“Yeah. I did some of my residency there. At Stroger.” He explained, mirroring the tilt of her head.
Aria narrowed her eyes slightly. “I'm sure it wasn't easy.”
“Not really. That's why I switched to PTMC.” He swallowed thickly and pursed his lips. He didn’t want to say the real reason. Not yet, anyway. “Was closer to home and I met my mentor there, so I think I made the right choice.”
“It's nice that you had that.” She looked at him with sympathy and an emotion that told Robby that she couldn't relate.
Conversation soon died because the plane took off not long after. The engine noises were loud and didn't allow for any chatting.
Aria pulled her headphones over her baseball cap—the red Cubs logo on the front—and sat back in her seat, eyes closed, as she attempted to take a nap. Robby’s technique to get through the flight was not all that different. His version of headphones were airpods, and, rather than sleep, he attempted to disassociate. Well, that was likely Aria's plan too—under the guise of sleep.
The flight itself was uneventful since it was only an hour long, with some turbulence when they got in the clouds, but it was a gentle shake. However, Robby noted that Aria asked for a Dr. Pepper for the in-flight refreshments. Personally, he opted for water.
The good thing about first class was that they were the first out of the plane once it landed. No need to wait ten minutes or longer for the people in front of them to move because there wasn't anyone in front of them.
Aria pulled her headphones down to her shoulders and climbed out of the seats alongside Robby, pulling out her suitcase with ease from the overhead compartment. She helped a shorter woman get hers, too.
Then came navigating the O’Hare airport. Clearly, Aria was much more familiar with his airport than Pittsburgh’s. The only thing she had to check was her phone to make sure her brother was waiting at the arrivals dock.
“Hey, are you Aria Kaminski?” A younger woman who couldn’t have been older than eighteen stopped them, an excited gleam in her eyes even as they were red-rimmed with exhaustion. There was a bag slung over her shoulder and a movie case and sharpie in her hands.
Aria paused, tempted to say no to move along. “Yes, that's me.” She decided that would be mean.
“Would you mind signing this for me?” The young woman thrust the film—named Bury Your Dead—and sharpie into Aria's hands.
Robby watched from the sidelines. He had never been so affronted by Aria’s fame. Granted, he hadn't known her long and, for a week, she was essentially locked in her penthouse. He never once thought about these things happening. That they would happen around him.
Aria pocketed her phone and nodded. “Sure,” She uncapped the sharpie with her mouth and signed her name across the top, “And who should I make it out to?”
“Oh, uh, Piper.” She stammered, red in the face.
Quickly, Aria wrote a small note next to her signage. She recapped the sharpie and handed both back to Piper. “It was nice meeting you, Piper.” She plastered on a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, “But we have to go.”
“Right. It was nice meeting you, too!” Piper nodded and scurried along, holding her newfound treasure to her chest like a baby.
As Aria and Robby began to move again, he wondered aloud. “Does that happen often?”
“Happens about once every other week.” Aria shrugged as they exited the airport to the departures dock. “I feel bad for actors. They get that kinda shit constantly.”
He wasn't sure what to make of it. A shock, for sure. But he wasn't appreciative of the fact that everyone seemed to know his soulmate for so long, except for him, and that little interaction was a physical manifestation of it.
The outside of the airport reeked of cigarettes and gasoline. The kind of smell that only happened in big cities up north, though, New York was said to have a hint of piss added to the scent. He didn't want to find out.
A glaze of nostalgia passed over Aria’s expression. She breathed in the air like memories came rushing back to her, shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath. Robby swore he saw a glimmering of wetness in her tear ducts, but as quickly as the look appeared, it went away as she led him to her brother's car.
“Hey.” Jesse greeted both of them as he exited the car.
“Hey, freak.” Aria hummed and motioned to the trunk. He opened it for her.
They didn't hug or greet each other like siblings who presumably loved each other. All siblings had their own functions and different relationships. What was deemed acceptable and what was not. This pair wasn't the physically affectionate type.
“I can do that.” Robby said when Aria tried to put his suitcase in the trunk next to hers.
She raised an eyebrow. “I know that, I'm just trying to save your back, old man.” She pulled it from his grip and slid it horizontally so there was more room for her to put her backpack. The car wasn't big because it was a sedan.
“Or you’re trying to show off.” He pointed out with a shake of his head. She just got her stitches out and was lifting heavy things.
Aria slipped past him and smirked, almost taunting, “If I wanted to show off, I would take off my shirt and flex my biceps, but I’m sure that would distract you.” She got into the passenger seat.
He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head again, cheeks hot. He’d die from frustrations way before any disease or suicidal tendency caught up to him.
As Robby got into the backseat, he could hear the tail end of a conversation between Jesse and Aria. “—No wonder you two are soulmates.”
“Mind your own business. Shouldn’t you be thinking more about your own soulmate right now rather than mine?” She said pointedly, with all the sass of a little sister who had just been embarrassed by her older brother.
“Ah, can’t a man multitask?” Jesse teased as he started up the car.
Because of their afternoon flight, the sun was setting over the Chicago skyline. A wave of nostalgia hit Robby as they entered the city proper.
He remembered the seasons. The harsh winters, when swirling snow clouded his vision on his walk to and from work, but painted the city in a dreamlike haze. The hot, sweltering sun of the summer that was eased by the constant breeze, tunneled through the skyscrapers, but his apartment, with no AC, had to have the window open at all times unless he wanted to come home from a long shift and boil to death. Not a good way to go. The autumn which was lukewarm and bearable one day and below zero the next. The springs brought rain and flowers to the parks he’d occasionally walk on his days off, an umbrella in hand as droplets spattered around him in a steady rhythm until the rain stopped or the clouds moved to another part of town.
In September, the city’s trees began to turn various shades of red, orange, or yellow, and the sun dipped perfectly between the buildings on Michigan Avenue.
It struck Robby how much he missed being here. He didn’t expect to care so deeply.
Jesse parked at the hotel’s attached garage and took them to the lobby. The lobby was dripping with opulence. The floors were a black and white zig-zag tile, a crystalline chandelier hung from the ceiling, wooden posts lined with warm light touched the high ceilings, and personal sofas were placed around the room. Behind the check-in area were large paneled mirrors.
Certainly a place one would stay for a wedding.
“I have you guys on a completely different level than mom and dad, so you shouldn’t run into them too often.” He gave them both a room key—2715.
Robby narrowed his eyes at that but didn’t say anything. Aria looked relieved.
They all climbed into the elevator which was just as expensive-looking as the lobby. Jesse pressed the button for floors twenty-seven and thirty.
“Now, this is where I leave you to get back to my wife.” Jesse motioned for them to exit once they arrived on floor twenty-seven.
Aria rolled her eyes and reminded him with a smirk, yet again, “She's still not your wife just yet.” She stepped into the hallway with Robby as the elevator doors closed.
The walk to their room wasn't long, but when Aria opened the door, Robby was affronted by the single king bed in the room. He assumed there would be two queens.
Not that there was anything wrong with the single bed. Except, he was used to sleeping in a different room from Aria. He didn't want to push too soon, too fast, and wanted to allow her the time to heal. And there was a smidge of fear. Fear that she wouldn't like him.
The room was nice with a hanging chandelier, a seating area off to the side of the bed with two couches, a coffee table, and a minibar and fridge that overlooked the city and parts of Lake Michigan. There was a flatscreen TV sitting on the wall facing the bed.
The bathroom had a frosted glass panel that allowed for peeking into the shower from the main room. Great. There wouldn't be much privacy, then.
Catching his look, Aria explained, “My brother booked all the rooms a while ago, guests just had to pay him. He assumed I'd be alone.” She set her backpack on the couch and pulled her suitcase to the side of it, then shrugged off her jacket and threw her hat on top of her bag.
“I could sleep on one of the couches.” Robby suggested, not sure how she would feel about sharing the bed as he took off his jacket as well. He draped his on the back of the other couch.
“No. You're sleeping on the bed, too.” She looked at him like he was stupid. “Plus, they're very comfortable and I won't have my soulmate sleeping on a subpar couch when a great bed is just a few feet away.” Her tone was very matter-of-fact—insistent—as she took out her pajamas for the night.
It made his chest feel tight with emotion. He didn't want to dwell on it. He nodded and glanced back at the bed, cheeks burning. He rubbed at the back of his neck.
“So, uh, Jesse mentioned your parents earlier?” Robby attempted to fish for information.
Aria froze and he became very afraid that he had said something wrong. She sighed, “We should have that conversation over dinner. Actually,” She turned towards him, “There's a restaurant on the ground floor. It's pretty good.”
“You've stayed here before.” It wasn't a question. With the way she talked about the hotel, like she visited often, dripped with familiarity.
She brushed a hand through her hair, attempting to fix her hair after it had been under that baseball cap. He liked how subtly messy it was. “Yeah. For premieres and stuff. I suggested it to Jesse when he was looking at hotels in the area.” She shrugged.
Once down in the lobby, they went to the restaurant on the eastern side of the hotel. It felt like a completely different place.
The restaurant was more intimate, with candlelight on each table and dark walls. The bar area had a wall lined with liquor and there was an open window to see into the kitchen as orders were placed onto the pass. It wasn't packed but there were plenty of other people with the same idea, not wanting to venture far from the hotel.
They were seated at a table for two that had a more romantic aura around it. It was like the host could sense they were soulmates, though their wrists were covered.
Aria didn't say anything for a while, eyes trained on the menu as she read over it. Robby just observed her. Then she rubbed a hand across her face. “My parents and I have a complicated relationship. Well, not really.” She shook her head and glanced up at him. There was a crease between his brows but he was clearly listening. “They don't agree with my life choices, so I cut them out of my life. And my other brother.”
For a dense moment, Robby couldn't think of what she meant by “life choices,” until it dawned on him. Her transness wasn't something he thought about often. She was legally recognized as a woman, expressed herself like one, so why would he contest that?
Her parents did. He wondered how stupid they were to treat such a wonderful person so horribly to the point she felt the need to distance herself from them. It didn't make sense to him. Even from a medical standpoint, it was a net positive for trans people to get the treatment they wanted, so there wouldn't be more bodies in the hospital or deaths in closets.
“They must be fun to be around.” Robby said sarcastically.
Aria chuckled, “Yeah, what joy.”
A waiter came by, a polite smile on his face. “Hello, can I get you started on any drinks tonight?”
Robby realized he hadn't even looked at the menu. He pulled his glasses from his pocket and put them on while Aria answered, “Rum and coke for me, please.”
“And for you?” The waiter turned to him.
“I'll do the same,” Robby nodded. “And two waters for both of us. Thanks.”
The waiter gave them a nod and retreated to put the order in.
“You seem like a rum and coke guy.” Aria commented, folding her arms on the table.
“And you don't seem like a rum and coke girl.” Robby shot back with a light smile, arching an eyebrow over the frame of his glasses. She laughed at his rebuttal.
There was still a lingering fear in him about Aria's safety, but it was easy to forget when she talked or laughed. He got lost in the sound of her voice, a soft, raspy melody that he could listen to forever. If she'd let him. She could either talk for hours about her passions or shut herself off when she felt particularly bad.
“What about you?” Aria spoke up, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Do you also have a shitty relationship with your parents?”
Robby snorted at her wording. “You could say that. I was raised by my grandmother.” He scratched his cheek. “Didn't really have a relationship with them.”
“But even with a lack of relationship, you are still affected.” She said with a tilt of her head like, if she looked at him a certain way, she’d see into his soul.
The table went silent as the waiter came back with the drinks, each one in a highball glass. He even set a pitcher of water between them in case they needed more. “Do you know what you would like for your entrees?” He asked.
Aria took a quick sip of her drink and nodded at Robby to order first. “Uh, steak frites for me, please.”
“And the pesto pasta.” She added, taking Robby’s menu from him to hand both to the waiter. “Thank you.”
The waiter took the menus and flashed a more genuine smile. “Thank you. We’ll have those out soon.” He left to take care of another table.
Robby took a sip from his drink and hummed. The liquor they used was strong but the dark soda cut the flavor with some needed sweetness. “Why don’t you live here?” He’d wondered that for a while. Aria still loved this city, from what he gathered, more than Pittsburgh.
She looked off to the side, the candle reflected in her glasses, causing a beautiful contrast between the warmth of the light and the icy color of her eyes. “I came to Pittsburgh for film school. It was cheaper than Chicago and Sloane lives there. I have a lot of friends still there. The only thing still connecting me here are my memories.” Her eyes met his.
“I don’t think that’s the only thing.” He took off his glasses, setting them on the table. He really stared at her, eyes trailing over the way her bangs fell over her eyebrows and framed her heart-shaped face.
Something in her body changed when she stepped off that plane. More than memory, more than nostalgia. She relaxed. The usual tension apparent in her shoulders—gone.
Aria wanted to argue, but she didn’t. “Probably not.” She licked her lips and let out a small huff of air from her nose.
To have someone who could understand her so well, more than her closest friends, was something she wasn’t used to. But that’s what soulmates were for, weren’t they? No one knew exactly how it worked, even she speculated through her writing, but there were plenty of mechanics or theories people took as truth.
Soulmates are supposed to be complements. Puzzle pieces that are different, but click together regardless. Not parallel lines, but intersecting circles. Similar, but not the same.
As an apple is to an orange, as Coke is to Pepsi, as a cake is to a cupcake, as a remora is to a shark.
As they waited for their food, Aria could feel eyes on her. Not the usual kind—of fans who wondered if they should say hi or not—but a judgmental stare. She took a glance from the corner of her eye. Her heart dropped to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Robby looked at her, concerned.
“My fucking parents are here.” She sighed, rubbing her face underneath her glasses.
He looked over at the same table. There were four people sitting at a booth, both couples, one clearly older than the other. The older couple was a balding man with thin salt and pepper hair and scruff, clad in business casual clothes and a woman with clearly fake blonde hair and nearly no makeup except for a dark lipstick as she clung onto a youth she couldn’t reach anymore. He knew they were around his age, but somehow looked ten years older. The younger couple was a man with dark hair cut into a mullet mostly covered by the snapback he wore and a mustache that looked wrong on his face as it dipped beside his lips and a woman with long, auburn hair and skin that was egregiously fake-tanned that had Robby wondering if the chemicals were going to her head.
Robby pursed his lips, “Your brother…”
“Looks like an idiot?” Aria finished for him. “That mustache makes him look like a pedophile.”
He didn’t argue. “What are their names?” She hadn’t mentioned them before.
She took a gulp of her drink before she answered. “Rick and Angela are my parents. Joseph is my brother and Addison is his wife.”
“Why did Jesse invite them?” Robby couldn’t comprehend possibly endangering Aria just to have them at his wedding. If not physically, then mentally.
Aria didn’t answer as the waiter came by with their food, setting their respective dishes down before them. “Enjoy.” He said, then left.
Robby stared at her expectantly. She played with her fork for a moment and shrugged, “He sometimes talks to them, wanted them here. It’s not my wedding, so I don’t have a say in who he invites.”
It was shocking to hear a mature response like that. “You don’t have to be fine with it.” He pointed out.
“Oh, I’m not.” She chuckled bitterly. “But I only have to be around them for a few days and then I can go back to never seeing them again.”
Momentarily, Robby wondered if he was lucky to have absent parents. At least, they didn’t do anything too terrible to offend him, like how Aria’s parents did. Was it worse to not have parents or to grow up with parents that said they loved their child until it expressed an idea they didn’t like, so they threw that innocent life away and spent the rest of their life wondering if they had done something wrong to make their child think that way?
Dinner was mostly quiet after that, save for the scraping of utensils across their plates. Before Robby got the chance, Aria gave the waiter a black Amex card to pay for their dinner. Okay, what the hell?
“Why’d you do that?” He narrowed his eyes on her. Being treated this way was incredibly unfamiliar.
When they ordered his suit for the wedding online, she paid for it under the guise of it being a present for taking care of her and encouraged him to get it tailored. That was the first time she gave him her black card and the first time he’d ever seen one in real life.
Aria waved him off, “You need to save your doctor’s salary on more important stuff, I’m sure.” She finished off the last of her rum and coke.
Like what? Robby only spent money on necessities and the bills for his house, so he did have quite a hefty amount in his bank account.
Back in their hotel room, they prepared for bed. Aria changed into a loved graphic t-shirt and pajama shorts. She took out her toiletries to put them in the bathroom and began to brush her teeth. The frosted glass pane allowed her to roughly see the shape of Robby changing. She tried to focus on unpacking her toothbrush and toothpaste.
He entered not long after she began to brush her teeth. Her eyes found the golden chain peeking above the neckline of his shirt in the mirror as he set his own toiletries on the opposite side of the sink. Alongside the toothbrush and toothpaste was a small bottle of beard oil.
Aria spat out the toothpaste in her mouth and set her brush on the counter, leaving Robby to do whatever he needed. She took the side of the bed closer to the window and plugged her phone in to charge for the night. A hand propped her head up as she stared out the windows. The lights from office buildings acted like faux stars against the navy blue sky, and the moon, a bright crescent, was framed perfectly by two skyscrapers, much like how the sun was earlier.
As she stared, she could hear Robby get into bed next to her, actively putting distance between them. The air felt awkward.
She looked over her shoulder, “That necklace you wear… what is it?” He never took it off. She’d seen it peeking out from his shirts since he’d been staying with her. It had to mean something.
He let out a breath. “The star of David.” He whispered, a soft rasp to his voice. It’d been a long day.
“Huh.” Aria hummed. “Are you religious?”
A light snort escaped Robby’s nose. “Not particularly, no.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” She murmured, voice laced with amusement.
The room went quiet, so Aria took that as the perfect opportunity to turn off the lamp, cloaking them both in a blanket of darkness. However, it wasn’t a lonely darkness.
Chapter Four: A Reminder of All The Things I've Done Wrong
Warnings: hurt/comfort, maybe robby is a bit of an asshole, angst, nonsexual nudity.
Word Count: 3.2k
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It was morning by the time Aria woke up from her nap. Well, it was supposed to just be a nap. Sun filtered into her room through the blinds and she sighed, turning her back towards the window.
She felt disgusting. Mostly because she hadn't showered in over forty-eight hours and her hair felt greasy and her right side was aching and tight from the stitches. She was overly conscious of them. Damn, how did people do this? She'd heard of people, stunt guys, who had to get stitches every six months. Sometimes, every few months.
Aria winced lightly as she got out of bed and reached for her glasses, scratching a little at her stomach as she padded into the kitchen.
She wasn't prepared to see Robby—she forgot he was even there for a moment—even less prepared to see a plate of cheesy eggs, toast, and bacon on the counter.
“I didn't realize you'd have such a stocked kitchen.” Robby commented, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Jesse was nowhere in sight. He must've left on the earliest flight he could find back to New York.
Robby wasn't in black scrubs or that clearly loved, but dingy, hoodie anymore. Instead, he wore a simple black tee and jeans. His feet were covered by white socks and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose. He must've made a quick trip back to his house to get some clothes of his own.
He looked… good. Almost like a dad. But in the hot way that made imaginary next door neighbor Aria want to lie out in the sun while he cut his lawn.
She felt a sense of ease with Robby. Like he belonged there. Usually, she didn't like when people she didn't know very well touched her things or went through her kitchen without letting her know first, but this just felt right.
Aria sat at the counter and began to eat. “Cooking helps me decompress, to not think so hard. So a stocked fridge and planned meals mean I don't have to think too hard on what to make.” She shrugged as she took a bite of her meal. It wasn't anything special, certainly made more for functionality over flavor, but she appreciated the thought.
“Coffee?” Robby asked.
She shook her head. “I don't drink coffee.”
An eyebrow arched. “Then why do you have a coffee maker?”
“Because it's just one of those things you buy when you have your own place,” Aria said like it was a fact. In a sense, it was. “And sometimes my friends stay over. They like coffee in the mornings.”
Obviously, her intuition was good. Robby liked coffee, so he used her coffee maker. And her mug. The one he held was a gift from one of her actor friends, apparently handcrafted and painted a deep shade of red with engraved leaves near the bottom.
Robby hummed against the lip of the mug before he took another sip.
Although Aria couldn't see the coffee in his mug, she knew it must be regular black coffee. He seemed like the type of person who liked bitter coffee. and if he put sugar in it, there was barely any added. Maybe a packet or two, but nothing more than that.
“When you're done eating, I'm going to check on your stitches.” He finished up his coffee and washed the dish in the sink.
There was no suggestion in his voice. It was an order. He was going to do it whether or not she objected—not that she would—but she wasn't used to being talked to like that. Not anymore. Though she didn't mind it. He was just concerned and she didn't blame him.
Aria still remembered the sudden pain vividly. She had never seen so much of her own blood. Perhaps fortunately, she passed out before she could see any more.
She ate the rest of her breakfast silently, much to her dismay because she liked to have something playing in the background at all times, whether it was the television or music, did not matter. Robby took her plate and put it in the dishwasher when she was finished.
Then, she was guided over to the couch. “Before you do anything else,” Aria lay across the cushions, “Can you put on a vinyl, please? I don't like silence.”
Robby stared down at her for a second before he nodded and found her restored record player. It was a normal-looking chest until it opened at the top, where the right side stored all her records, and the left side was the actual record player.
He sifted through the records for a while, not recognizing most of them until he picked a random one. He slid the vinyl from its sleeve, set it on the turntable, and dropped the needle.
A gentle melody filled the air. Robby adjusted the volume to make it softer before he returned to Aria.
Green was the color of the grass where I used to read at Centennial Park,
I used to think I would meet somebody there,
Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop you used to work at to make a little money,
He looked at her for permission. Once he found it in her eyes, he lifted her shirt just below her breasts to get a good, unobstructed look at her stitches. The skin was still irritated and red but that was normal. If the stitches were a few days older and looked like that, then there would be a problem.
“I brought some antiseptic and clean towels. I'm going to clean the wounds and then you're going to take a bath.” Robby turned to his backpack to get the materials.
Aria sighed happily, “Oh, thank God. I feel like I got shot—well, I guess I did so…” Her words trailed off awkwardly.
He didn't say anything, just sat on the edge of the couch, and pulled nitrile gloves on to start dabbing the antiseptic against the wounds. She hissed at the sensation, abdomen flexing and clenching involuntarily.
“Relax, baby, it's going to hurt worse if you keep tensing up.” Robby’s eyes didn't leave her stitches once. His free hand gently cradled her waist to keep her from squirming. Not demanding, but attempting to calm her.
Baby.
He probably didn't even realize he said it. The word made Aria still. Not completely rigid, but relaxed, as he intended.
Internally, Aria cursed at herself. She always thought pet names were stupid, which was why she used them jokingly towards her friends, so she wondered what had changed. One man couldn't change something she thought would be a hard no for her. Except he did. He just happened to be the man. The one she was supposedly destined to be with for the rest of their shared life.
Robby finished after a few more minutes and lowered her shirt. “There.” He stood to discard his gloves. “I’ll go run you that bath.”
“You gonna bathe me?” Aria joked.
“Yep.” He said as he disappeared into the bathroom.
He must've been snooping around her apartment while she was asleep to get familiar with his surroundings because he seemed to already know where most things were. Jesse must've told him to.
Aria flushed slightly, maneuvering herself to sit on the couch. She hadn't been naked around many people in her life, let alone the same person consistently, so this was completely out of her comfort zone.
As she stepped closer to the bathroom, she could hear the rushing water of the faucet filling the tub. Robby’s glasses were pushed further up his nose as he tested the temperature of the water with his hand. The mirror fogged over and yet the room didn't feel hot with steam, just warm. A gentle constant rather than the scalding temperature she was used to, but she knew this way was better, so it didn't irritate her stitches.
Robby dried his damp hand with a towel when he noticed Aria was in the bathroom too. “It's alright.” He attempted to reassure her again.
Yeah, in a sense, it was alright. Robby would likely see her bare body a thousand times in the future, but it didn't make her feel any better about it in the present. She didn't think she looked ugly, by any means, or that there was something wrong with her, she just wasn't used to being naked around others.
When she transitioned, she thought that might change. It didn't. Most other trans women she knew of loved to show off their new bodies, performers got naked on stage, not her. Sometimes she wished she could have the same confidence they had, but she just didn't. And she accepted that for the most part.
Aria took a breath as she began to undress. Her shirt came off, buttons unclasped slowly, and skin was revealed. She didn't wear a bra, thinking it would be too constrictive, so her breasts—high and full on her chest—were uncovered along with the rest of her torso. She didn't want to dwell too much since she felt dirty, so her pants and underwear came off in one tug and her socks were nudged off by her feet. Her glasses were left on the sink counter.
Robby’s gaze didn't linger on her figure, focusing on her face mostly. The only time his eyes dropped was to inspect the stitches, though he had just seen them a few minutes ago.
He helped Aria into the bath, a steady hand on the base of her spine that only went away once most of her body was submerged in the water.
The water felt nice, like it was already cleansing her body from both trauma and dirt. She let out a happy sigh and only half-wondered if the water would seep into her wounds, but it was a passing thought as she began not to think of anything. The music filtering in from the living room helped.
They told me all of my cages were mental,
So I got wasted like all my potential,
And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad,
I have a lot of regrets about that,
Her bathroom was littered with a myriad of random products. Her bath was a similar organized mess. A tray of products sat like a bridge on the end of the tub. More than shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, there was a loofa, razor, shaving cream, and hair texture spray.
Robby took what he assumed was the body wash and inspected it to make sure he was correct. Aria couldn't stop the small giggle that escaped her lips.
“What?” His head lifted to look at her.
“That is my body wash.” She confirmed.
He shook his head, trying to hide the heat on his face, “Yeah, I gathered that.”
Gently, he began to scrub her with the loofa and moved her limbs when he needed to get a better angle. Being manhandled by Robby didn't seem so bad. Though this wasn't aggressive or filled with anger, like how most manhandling appeared to be. This was gentle, soft, and steady. A man who didn't think he had any ‘right’ over her but one who, somehow, was already familiar with how to touch, caress, or hold her. Or that was just how Robby was as a person. Not demanding unless needed, but firm and dependable.
Then came shampoo. Aria let out a groan as Robby massaged her scalp, shoulders slumping.
“Maybe I should go into the head massage business.” He chuckled, thumbs rubbing circles on the base of her neck.
Fuck him for being a doctor and knowing exactly what points on a human body were the sensitive ones. It had to be too damn easy for him to get her to melt in his hands.
“Please, don’t.” Aria hummed and leaned into his touch.
Robby grabbed the handheld sprayer, set a warm hand underneath her hairline so shampoo didn’t get in her eyes, and rinsed her hair. A soft smile spread across his lips as he watched her. “Because you want me to yourself?” He suggested teasingly.
“Maybe.” She didn’t want to outright admit to anything.
Didn’t want to think of the possibility that Robby touched other people. She barely knew the guy. She only knew his name and his job, but she also knew he was good with his hands and that he cared about people, not through words, but through actions. It still felt weird to stake a claim over him, even though their soul-marks were a visible representation of that claim.
After the shampoo was rinsed out, next came the conditioner. It surprised her to feel him working the product into her ends rather than her whole head. Not many men that she knew—she knew very few men—knew to do that.
It could’ve been his age, that he’s been around much longer than most of the men she hung out with, so he knew a lot more about women, about people’s preferences. Basic stuff that younger guys just didn’t seem to get, or didn’t want to.
Once completely clean from dirt and lingering blood, Robby helped Aria out of the tub and wrapped a deep blue towel around her body that was hanging off the back of the door. “Carefully dab at your stitches when you dry yourself. I’m going to get you a new set of clothes.” He instructed as he picked up her discarded clothes off the ground and left the bathroom.
Aria bit the inside of her cheek as she stood before the mirror, drying her damp skin. For the first time, she was able to see her stitches, unobstructed. Looking at them made her sick, but she pulled through so she could dry them in gentle dabs. The cloth hurt when it touched the wounds, however, it wasn’t exceedingly unbearable to the point she could no longer touch them. Just uncomfortable. A soft, stinging pain.
She walked into her bedroom—another organized mess with personal achievements, like her film degree and tickets to her own movies, hung on the walls—and lifted the towel to her hair to begin drying it.
Robby appeared like a light switch turning on and pulled her hands back down to her sides, drying her hair himself. He did it fine, scrunching it to get as much water out of the strands as possible, but it made Aria stare at him weirdly.
“I can do that myself.” She tried to take the towel back from him.
His grip was firm. “Sure, but you shouldn't.” He pulled the towel away, satisfied with how dry she was, before he helped her into a new pair of clothes.
Another soft flannel so she didn't have to raise her arms, underwear, and a pair of soft shorts.
Aria knew his intentions were good, but she wasn't sure how much of this coddling she could take until she had an outburst. She didn't mention it. Pushed it down like everyone else in her family did.
She just pushed this instance away from her mind. Maybe he'd get better about it. Maybe he wouldn't.
For most of the day, Aria stayed in the living room, unhidden from view and watching random shows while Robby busied himself with making sure the apartment was safe. He inspected her first aid kit and judged where it was lacking—she needed a roll of gauze, some Neosporin, and a bottle or two of antiseptic.
Aria reached for her phone and headphones when she got tired of watching TV. She intended to put her headphones on, reaching up, but they were snatched from her grasp.
That was her final straw.
“I’m not fucking fragile, you know.” She ground out, not trying to seem too hostile but it was hard not to.
Robby raised an eyebrow. “I told you not to raise your hands over your shoulders.”
“That’s stupid. You let me eat this morning by myself and I was completely fine.” Aria’s frustration was bleeding more and more into her words.
“Do you want to heal well or not?” He deflected.
She was resisting the urge to pull at her hair. “Of fucking course I do but you’re being such a fucking doctor right now!”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” He blinked, offended, with more of an edge to his voice.
“It means no normal person follows their doctor’s order to a tee!” Aria didn’t yell but her voice was certainly louder than it had been before.
Robby huffed, “Well, you’re not normal.”
Aria’s eyes widened, something in her chest breaking. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re my goddamn soulmate!” He snapped. “It means I don’t want to see you get hurt! I don’t want to lose you when I’ve just found you! I couldn’t fucking bear losing another person I—” He cut himself off and took a deep breath when he noticed his vision was blurring with tears.
Aria felt the simmering anger leave her. She was taken aback and, for the first time, thought about how scary it must’ve been for Robby to see her tiptoeing the line between life and death. Among the other bloodied bodies, it wasn’t easy to see her there on top of everyone else that he had to take care of. On top of all the other losses Robby went through. Some that didn’t happen that day, but years ago, that were beginning to catch up to him.
Adamson. His grandmother. The lack of true parental guidance throughout most of his adolescence. It all bubbled inside him like a horrible witch’s brew, molding into a dreadful black sludge.
With a soft touch, Aria guided Robby to sit with her on the couch. “I can’t imagine that day was easy. Takes a special kind of person to see all of that and still function.” She rubbed his forearm tenderly. “You’ve probably been traumatized six ways to Sunday a thousand times.”
“Try ‘a million.’” Robby tried to joke, his mouth dry.
Aria didn’t laugh. She did grin, though. A win is a win. “What I mean is that I’m okay. Sure, it hurts sometimes when I move a certain way, but you don’t have to baby me. Okay?” She said earnestly.
Robby stared at her, a disbelieving smile on his lips as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. It was cute of her to think he could be changed or helped. “I can’t make any promises.” He shook his head.
“Try.” Aria cupped his bearded jaw and forced him to look her in the eye.
He wanted to say that he couldn’t, that he would mess up this entire relationship, push her away, and her frustration with him would never go away. He didn’t. Instead, he licked his lips, tasting the salt of his tears, and said, “Okay.”
When she hugged him, Robby thought that if anything could feel like home, then she must’ve been his.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of religious trauma, references to Pittfest, classic annoying little sister-annoyed big brother dynamic, nonsexual nudity.
A/N: i may have gotten distracted with finishing college and not uploading this fic. oops!
Word Count: 3.1k
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For the few hours they were alone together, and Aria was conscious, they talked. Robby didn't have that much to tell, or didn't want to yet, so he asked Aria more about herself before she could ask him anything. He found that she didn't mind ranting about things, especially the things that interested her.
He found his soulmate quite late in life so he didn't want to waste any more time. Of course, there were things he might never know about her until the time was right. Until he had known her for far longer than just a day, rather a few years, perhaps a decade or more, would he really be in tune with her quirks.
Aria was in the middle of picking at a hospital jello cup—red—when Robby asked her something else. “You mentioned going to PittFest for Hozier?” His eyebrows furrowed. He felt like he wasn't saying it correctly.
“Yeah.” She gave him a weird look. It didn't last long. “He's my favorite musician. His debut song was called Take Me to Church, you'd probably recognize it if you heard it. It's about how Christianity vilifies gay people, which is funny because many churches sang it in the choir when it was popular. Just goes to show how dumb people are sometimes.” She shrugged and ate another spoonful of jello.
Robby let out a soft chuckle at her little anecdote. “Leave it to the Christians to misinterpret things.”
“I was raised Catholic.” Aria said once she swallowed a mouthful of the gelatin.
Another voice cut in. “Please don’t start talking about your religious trauma.” It was quite deep, almost monotone.
Robby looked towards the door, squinting slightly. That had to be Jesse. The familial resemblance was immediately clear, though Jesse was more tanned than Aria. His eyes were deep brown and he had thick dark brown hair, cut short with a side part and a matching beard that had wisps of red and gray around his chin. He couldn’t have been much older than Aria, though. He wore a rumpled gray hoodie, dark jeans, black sneakers, and a black backpack that was draped across one shoulder.
He looked like he had rushed to the airport.
“Damn, I was just going to tell him how I used to be an altar boy.” Aria said dryly but there was a clear warmth in her eyes shared with her brother.
Jesse cracked a smile, pulling another chair to the other side of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”
“Never had stitches before, so I'm not used to that.” Aria couldn’t look him in the eyes.
“You know that’s not what I mean.” Jesse’s eyes were pointed, yet soft. There was a clear concern for her there, even if he didn’t want to voice that worry aloud.
Aria let out a scoff. “Well, I’m definitely gonna have therapy material for the next few years.”
Robby watched the brother-sister exchange and, not for the first time, was envious of that sort of relationship. He was an only child, predominantly raised by his grandmother. There was no one to share in his grief over her loss, no one to grow up with, no one to have inside jokes with, no one to understand him so fundamentally.
Well, no one right now.
“So,” Jesse attempted to read Robby’s nametag that he forgot to take off, “Doctor Robinavitch, is she gonna be discharged soon?” Right, he probably thought Robby was her doctor.
Robby blinked, but nodded. “Yes, but she’s gonna need someone to watch over her for the next few days and—”
“He’s not my doctor, Jess. He’s my soulmate. Who just so happens to be a doctor at this hospital.” Aria stared at Jesse like he was intentionally being dense.
The room went silent, save for the soft beeping of the machines.
It wasn’t hard to see their matching red soul-marks. It wasn’t hard to see that Robby looked at Aria as more than just a patient. It wasn’t hard to see that Aria, who was overly conscious of her personal space, didn’t mind Robby’s closeness or his touch.
Jesse studied Robby, eyebrows furrowed, causing the older man to shift uncomfortably.
He hadn’t experienced a scrutiny like this since he was younger, under the judgmental gaze of his parents. Like Sloane, he shouldn’t have felt so terrified of someone nearly half his age but he couldn’t help it. Was he not good enough? Was he lacking in something? He knew he wasn’t in the best shape and he wore his age on his sleeve like some sort of curse he couldn’t get rid of.
“God damn, he is your type.” Jesse said with a sigh.
If the universe marked them as perfect for each other, then there was something Aria could see that Robby could not see within himself.
Both Aria and Robby went red. “Fuck off.” She hissed, embarrassed.
“Anyway,” Jesse shook his head, regarding Robby, “I cannot take off right now. I’m getting married in a week and I don’t want to stress my wife—”
“She’s not your wife yet, man.” Aria teased.
“—out more than she already is.” As most older brothers do, Jesse mastered the art of ignoring his younger sister’s annoying antics. “Is she gonna be able to come if she doesn’t have anyone watching her?”
“I can watch over her.” Robby offered, glancing at Aria for permission.
It wasn't Jesse’s choice, whether he liked it or not. Aria was an adult. Well, her frontal lobe had only recently completely developed, but, by law, she had been an adult for seven years and seemed to be doing fine on her own until yesterday. Given what Sloane said about her “best friend,” which he could only assume was now Aria, she was successful. Had been incredibly successful for a couple of years now.
Thinking further back, Sloane mentioned her friend’s movies doing well, how she regretted not being able to make it to the premieres, or the scripts Aria was working on. He should’ve paid more attention to those little tidbits of information.
Aria raised an eyebrow at Robby before she nodded. “As long as you don't mind loud music, I'm fine with that.”
Then it was decided, for certain, that Robby would be watching over her. A nurse came by with discharge papers, which Aria promptly signed, and her tattered, bloodied clothes that couldn’t be worn outside the hospital unless she wanted to look like she just got shot.
“Grab me clothes from home?” Aria requested from her brother.
Jesse nodded and squeezed her shoulder as he stood up. “Yeah. Was thinking about that.”
“You still have the key, right?” She pressed.
“Wasn’t gonna come here without it!” He grabbed the extra key to her apartment from his hoodie and dangled it on the keyring.
Robby cut in. “Get something loose-fitting and easy to take on and off.” Jesse hummed in response as he left.
If it hadn’t started already, it was starting now. His deep-seated need to take care of her, to make sure she was as comfortable as possible, and in control of all of it. It wasn’t his proudest attribute.
“So,” Aria drew out the vowel at the end, “I really can't raise my hands above my shoulders? That kinda sucks.”
Robby wanted to fight a smirk spreading across his lips but couldn't in the end. “What sucks is pulling at your stitches and having to get them redone.”
She deflated with a puff of air from her lips. “Right.”
He stared at her lips for a moment before his eyes flicked back up to her eyes. As if on autopilot, his hand reached over to her side and rested on her hip. She didn't pull away or stiffen, instead, she melted.
“I'll take care of you.” Robby whispered. The look in his eyes was sincere.
Aria tilted her head, a lop-sided grin on her lips. “I'm sure you say that to all your patients.”
“Only the really pretty ones.” He said dryly, absentmindedly rubbing a circle into her hip.
“Here are those clothes.” Jesse announced his arrival, setting a folded stack of clothes on the foot of the bed. “I'm gonna wait outside.” He glanced between the pair before turning on his heel.
Robby stood, closing the door and pulling the curtain to cover the window into the room for privacy, and then turned back towards the bed. Aria was flustered. He had no idea why.
Oh. Right.
She would be naked in front of him.
He didn't even think of it like that anymore. This was clinical. He'd seen probably a hundred naked, or near-naked, bodies every day. Especially for trauma if he needed to cut the patient’s clothes for access to the affected area. Bare bodies didn't faze him, so he forgot that, most of the time, being bare was intimate.
“It's alright,” Robby tried to calm her, “I've seen pretty much everything.” He helped Aria out of the bed with his hands in hers and then stepped behind her to undo her hospital gown.
Aria curled her fingers and bit her lip. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don't know. Does it?” Robby’s breath was hot against her neck, though he wasn't that close.
The gown came off, causing a million goosebumps to appear on her skin. Hospitals usually ran cold. He didn't dwell on her naked skin, or tried not to. The tattoos were what mainly drew his attention—the sprawling sun and moon that went down her spine, the portrait of Joan of Arc with a flag and sword on her shoulder, and the stained glass window complete with roses on her calf—all painted a picture of the woman he would be spending a lot of his time with.
“Maybe. How many times do you help people back into their clothes?” She was fishing for any and all information.
Internally, Robby laughed. If only she knew. “Lately, not many. Or any at all.” He answered.
He helped her into her underwear, his knuckles feeling the largely unblemished skin and the curves of her body. Slipping a flannel onto her shoulders, he turned her around in order to button it properly. Then came a grey pair of sweatpants that he just pulled over the curve of her hip.
Yeah, it was definitely that hospital gown that washed her out. She looked far more lively in her own clothes.
“How're you feeling?” He rubbed his hands against her shoulders.
“Not so shitty anymore.” Aria wrinkled her nose and gave him a light smile.
Robby sat her down on the edge of the bed to slide her socks and shoes on, tying the laces perfectly. When he stood up from his kneeling position, his back popped. Not the best look after only knowing his soulmate for a few hours but, if Aria noticed it, she didn't make any indication that she did.
He stuffed her blood-stained clothes into his backpack and exited the room with her by his side.
Her apartment wasn't too far, and none of them had a car with them, so they walked to her building in silence. The building she lived in was tall with a Gothic structure, clearly old but used quite well for its age.
When they entered, Robby noticed there were quite a few modern amenities. A nicely functioning elevator instead of what he assumed would be one with the metal gate. No, this elevator looked pretty new, with mirrored walls, clean tiled floors, and sleek buttons.
Aria pressed floor twenty-seven. The button lit up after it was touched. The doors slid closed with a small ding before the elevator moved. She stood between him and Jesse, occasionally swaying from side to side.
The doors opened once they got to the proper floor. Aria left the elevator first, leading the men to her door. The hallway was nicely decorated with sconces and green walls with darker green stripes running vertically for a slight difference in shade.
As she reached her apartment, another door opened. “Aria?” A girl with dyed red hair nearly ran over, throwing her arms around her. “Oh my god, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
Aria winced. “I'm fine, Leah. Just got stitches, so be careful, huh?” She flashed the other woman a crooked smile.
“Right, sorry, I'm just glad you're alright.” Leah rubbed her hands against her elbows, moving a hand up to brush a few hairs away from Aria’s face. “You still look gorgeous.”
“Doesn't feel like it. But thanks. I gotta get going.” Aria nodded to her door.
Lean gave Aria another quick hug. “Yep. Got it. Gotta heal and all that.”
Robby had lived on his own for a while, in a townhouse, so he forgot the sort of community a lot of others had within their living area—their neighborhood, their apartment floor, their building.
These women clearly cared about one another. Not sexually. Or romantically. Like they would do just about anything for each other. Sit a dog, watch their houseplants, feed a cat, or take out their trash. Or all of the above. Not exactly friends but not lovers either. Something closer, and yet more distant.
The only people Robby could really count on were Jack and Dana. Outside of work, he could only rely on himself. Only had himself.
Aria unlocked her door and made her way inside. Jesse entered next, then Robby, which prompted him to shut the door and lock it.
The apartment was luxurious. Way better than the one he had when he was Aria's age. There were dark wooden floors—real wood, not linoleum or fake plastic wood—the forest green from the hallways painted the walls inside as well, but it was complimented by some being paneled with dark oak and bookcases filled with novels organized by the color of their spine, or broken up by large frames encasing film posters he didn't recognize—if he squinted his eyes, he'd see Aria's name in the center—and large windows that signified this was more of a penthouse than a regular apartment.
“I'm gonna crash. I’m fucking tired.” Aria murmured as she brushed past the kitchen to a hallway leading to her room.
Surely, she wasn't just tired, but Robby didn't bring it up. Did he have a right to do that yet? Call her out when she was clearly lying? When she was covering it under something else?
Fuck, he didn't know how this soulmate thing worked. He just wanted her to be okay and she wasn't. Physically, she was alright, but mentally? That was another beast.
Jesse called to her, “I’ll order takeout so it’s here when you wake up!”
That left the two men alone. Robby shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.
“You can set that down. You're gonna be here a lot in the future anyway.” Jesse shrugged off his own backpack and set it on one of the barstools in the kitchen. He took out his phone and called a nearby pizza place.
Robby copied him, set his backpack on a barstool, and looked around. The kitchen was mostly clean with black countertops, matching dark oak cabinets, and white subway tile backsplash. A few unwashed dishes lay in the sink, likely from the day before. There was a calendar on the fridge, signaling dishes she planned to make on certain days of the week—last night was supposed to be butternut squash gnocchi—on the side was a note from Sloane. He recognized it from her handwriting.
Go get ‘em, tiger!
Simple, but sweet. His heart warmed at the sight of it.
His soulmate was so loved, even platonically, that it was hard to think what he would have to add to everything.
Her living room transitioned into navy paint that could barely be seen since she had so many things decorating the walls—more film posters, game posters, small polaroids to fill in gaps, shelves full of small potted plants and one-of-a-kind trinkets—the couch was a mid-century inspired sectional in a sage green color with mismatched pillows strewn about haphazardly and a grey blanket nearly falling off. The coffee table was more of a mess with papers all over and a stickered laptop sitting off to the side.
Good to know Aria's living space reflected her like a mirror. Beautiful, but not quite traditional.
Once off the phone, Jesse went back to Robby. “I just have to say… I'm really grateful you helped save my sister's life and that you’re gonna be taking care of her when I can't.” There was emotion brewing in his eyes. Typically, he didn't like to show much. He didn't cry, didn't get upset like this at all.
“Doctor Abbot saved Aria’s life,” Robby pushed his hands into his hoodie. “Thank him instead.”
“Maybe if I see him. In the meantime, you're the next best thing.” Jesse said firmly. “So thanks.”
Robby wondered if stubbornness ran in the family. Or maybe he was the stubborn one who didn't want to take credit because he felt like he did nothing. He didn’t save Aria. He was too in his own head to try, thinking she was going to die, when it would've been his non-action that caused her death.
She was alive.
She is alive.
“Okay.” Robby said carefully. He avoided Jesse’s dark and stormy gaze. “You can call me Robby, by the way. Almost everyone does. Easier than Robinavitch.” He offered.
Jesse nodded, “Alright, Robby.” He began texting on his phone, then paused. “Do you have plans next weekend?”
A crease formed between Robby’s eyebrows. “Uh, no. I'm probably still going to be watching Aria.” Where was this going?
“You should come to my wedding.” Jesse pocketed his phone, the look in his eyes lightening.
“Oh.” Robby blinked. “I don't know if I should—”
“You’re my sister's soulmate, of course you should. And you'll be able to keep an eye on her so she doesn't tear her stitches while dancing. She turns into a different person when there's music and a dance floor.” Jesse could already read Robby like a book.
Of fucking course he would take any opportunity to make sure Aria was okay. He hadn't thought about the possibility that he wouldn't be able to check in on her if she went alone.
That meant he had to go suit shopping. He didn't remember the last time he wore a suit besides for medical conferences or awards and he knew it would likely be rude of him to wear black-tie to a wedding that was not his own. So that tux collecting dust in his closet was a no-go.
Once Aria was conscious, she'd likely have a good insight into what he should wear.
Warnings: Angst, fluff, humor, mentions of violence.
Word Count: 2.4k
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Morning came and Robby was still in his scrubs from the previous night. At some point, he must’ve dozed off because Jack came by, startling him and looking far better than he did the previous night.
“You been here overnight?” It was posed as a question but said like he already knew his friend would be in this room anyway.
“Yeah.” Robby rubbed at his eyes before he blinked, allowing them to adjust to the harsh hospital lights he had become so used to. Even he wasn't prepared for it immediately after waking up. “Are you about to leave?”
Someone must've removed the oxygen tube from Aria's nose while he was out because it wasn't there anymore. Meaning, she was breathing fine on her own.
“Yep.” Jack nodded as he went over to the computer in the room, swiping his ID to access her charts and other medical records.
Robby walked to his side, eyes skimming over the charts. He had to put his glasses on to read them clearly.
“Since you're not her doctor, you're technically not supposed to be looking at these.” Jack pointed out with a light smirk, making no move to exit out of the computer.
“And you’re technically not her doctor anymore.” Robby bit back with no real malice.
Kaminski, Aria M
She had never been to PTMC, for any reason, emergency or otherwise. Hell, she'd never been to any emergency room for anything, but all clean records get tainted eventually. Her main care provider was West Penn. Psychologically, she was diagnosed with autism, chronic depression, attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and general social anxiety. Physically, she had a mild case of both scoliosis and arthritis, and took estrogen every week on Fridays in pill form.
Her main care provider—a Doctor Abigail Richards that he remembered talking with at one of the mandatory conferences he had to go to—noted Aria coped with overstimulating situations by isolating and wearing noise canceling headphones, but otherwise was able to function just fine.
“Apparently, she’s famous.” Jack commented after typing in a note or two into the chart. “Ellis mentioned she was in an article about the shooting. One of the only people named.”
Famous? Aria looked normal. Not that there was a specific look to fame but not many celebrities had that many tattoos, especially not that many big ones.
To be fair, Robby didn't have much time for movies or television, so how would he know?
He pursed his lips and looked at Aria. “I'd rather hear it from her.”
“And yet you basically already know her entire medical history.” Jack teased, tilting his head to the side.
Robby flushed all over. He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Aren't you off shift by now?” He changed the subject. He was quite adept at that.
“Yeah, just want to come by and check on her.” Jack said, his words softer.
A comfort washed over Robby. If he wasn't there to watch over her, then Jack would've. He knew that she was precious to him. Especially precious since he hadn't had the chance to properly interact with her at all.
“So we're all good, Doctor Abbot?” Robby said somewhat sarcastically.
Jack chuckled. “Yeah. Looks like she's alright. Should be cleared to go home when she wakes up. Just needs to be watched for the next few days so she doesn't pull stitches. You know the drill.” He gave the other man a nod.
“Do you, uh, know if she has any family nearby or…?” Robby shifted his weight on the balls of his feet.
“Not really,” Jack answered somewhat solemnly. “Her brother lives in New York but I had someone call him to let him know what happened. He's on his way.”
If Aria’s brother couldn't watch over her, someone else had to. Damn it if that person wasn't going to be him.
Jack left soon after he finished up checking her vitals, as if they would have changed since Robby last checked them himself. It was a reflex. Precaution. Something all, or most, doctors did before they left a room.
Robby sat back by her side, half-thankful it was the weekend. He never worked on the weekend. And he had four days off the coming week. Maybe he could guilt-trip Gloria into giving him more days off if it meant spending time with Aria, making sure she was alright, at the risk of being a helicopter partner.
He returned his hand to hers, thumb brushing over her lightly calloused knuckles. He could tell they were likely from working out. Boxing. She did have a fairly athletic body, nicely built muscles in her biceps and shoulders, which contributed a lot to her overall health. It certainly helped her pull through this shooting.
Like Jack said, a true fighter.
Aria’s hand began to twitch, fingers tightening around his as her eyelids squeezed for a second before they flickered open. Her irises, an icy blue-grey, could split the sea in two. She lifted her free hand to rub at her face, disoriented by the hospital light.
“Ms. Kaminski?” Robby tried his best to put his ‘doctor’ voice on to grab her attention.
“Yeah, um,” Aria spoke, eyes flicking to him, “I'm sorry, where are my glasses?”
Okay. She was near-sighted, good to know.
There was something about her voice that made his insides flutter. Deep and gravelly from sleep, but still feminine and soft and easy to listen to.
Robby grabbed her glasses from the bedside table and offered them to her. She took them and put them on, hissing in pain. He wasn't thinking. That must’ve pulled at her stitches.
“I’m Doctor Michael Robinavitch,” He said, “Everyone calls me Doctor Robby. Do you know what year it is?”
Yet another reflex. A quick exam to make sure there was no possible brain damage.
“2025.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“A hospital. Can't say which one.”
“What’s your birthday?”
“June 1st, 2000.”
“What's the last thing you remember?”
A darkness clouded Aria’s expression. “I was at PittFest, I was only there for one of the artists but, um… people started dropping like flies,” She licked her dry lips, “I tried helping a few people and then I… got shot. After that, all I remember is the sharpness of the pain and that I must've passed out.”
Robby nodded, swallowing thickly. His eyes stung as he choked down tears. His soulmate tried to help others. Should he have been proud? Instead, he was scared. She was actively putting herself in harm’s way to save others.
“You're at PTMC,” He attempted to say as calmly as possible, not noticing how he squeezed her hand, “You lost a lot of blood but it was superficial. The bullets went through you so you only needed stitches.”
Aria pursed her lips and nodded. “When will I be able to go home?”
“Today. But you'll need to limit lifting your arms above your shoulders and have someone watch you so you don't tear your stitches.” Robby had to focus on the facts.
Aria was alive.
She was talking.
She was coherent.
Everything was fine. Everything should be fine, so why did he still feel that pit of dread in his stomach like something bad was bound to happen?
“My brother—”
“We called him already. He's on his way.”
Aria’s eyebrows raised. She was surprised. Why? “Well, his flight is gonna be a few hours, at least.”
“That's fine. No one here is in a rush.” Robby assured. He certainly wasn't.
Then, there was silence. Aria seemed to notice that Robby's hand was clasping hers. Not the usual doctor-patient conduct that's for sure.
Just get it over with. Say it. Don’t beat around the bush.
“I'm your soulmate.” He told her, turning his hand so she could see their soul-marks had gone red.
Aria blinked, glancing from the red line on her wrist to him. It was black before she passed out, she was sure of it. “You… you’re my soulmate?” She breathed.
Robby’s breath caught in his throat. More dread seemed to fill his chest.
He was too old. Way too fucking old for this girl. Every now and then, he felt a tightness in his back when transferring a patient from a stretcher to a gurney, he had more gray than he liked to admit sprouting in his beard, he had seemingly countless wrinkles around his eyes. He felt his age every goddamn day.
He would slow her down.
He would keep her from living her life to the fullest.
The universe just loved to have a fucked up sense of humor.
Aria appraised him, but he didn't feel horrible about it. Strange. Some sort of excitement ran through him, surprising himself. She didn't mind his age. Was it indifference? Or was she trying not to let her disgust show?
Robby hated not being able to read people's minds. Especially now. Typically, he wanted that power to better understand his patients or the parents of one of his patients.
Now, it was a selfish reason. He wanted to know what she thought of him. Was he underwhelming? Did he look how she hoped? Who was he kidding? Of course he didn’t. A middle-aged man who was the primary physician of a hospital emergency room in a large city wasn’t anyone’s first pick. Maybe twenty years ago, when he was a little younger, had a little more light in his eyes, would he have been bumped to the top five.
“Huh.” Aria breathed, incredulous.
Robby squinted, confused by the almost non-reaction.
Like a whirlwind, the door to the room burst open and flying in came Sloane—one of Robby’s senior residents. He was about to speak but was cut off by her frantic question aimed towards Aria, “What the fuck were you doing there? I thought you weren’t going to PittFest!”
Oh. Sloane and Aria were friends. There was a clear familiarity between them like they had known each other for a while. Probably years.
Aria shrugged, “I decided I wanted to see Hozier.” He was the headliner for the evening.
“I tried calling you, I can’t fucking believe you were right above me this entire time.” Sloane hissed, rubbing her hands against her face.
“I don’t know where my phone is.” Aria said quietly.
Sloane shook her head, “It’s probably in the patient lockers somewhere. I’ll find it for you.”
“What about my clothes?” Aria looked from Sloane to Robby, which caused Sloane to finally register that he was there too.
Robby found his voice after a moment. “We had to cut open your shirt. Your pants and shoes are probably in the patient lockers, but they’re bloody.”
Sloane narrowed her eyes at him. Clearly studying why he was there. Sizing him up? Robby felt a pang of fear in his stomach. What the hell? Why? Sloane was usually a bundle of sunshine and stood at five-foot-four compared to his six-foot-one. Nothing to be scared of, right? Wrong.
Realization dawned in her eyes when she saw their entwined hands and the matching red lines around their wrists. A smug smile spread across her lips as she looked at Aria who avoided her gaze like it burned.
“Is Jesse on his way?” Sloane asked instead of probing for details.
Jesse. Her brother. Robby saved that information for later. He would be meeting him soon. Perhaps a little too soon.
Aria gave her a nod. “Won’t be here for a few hours. Not sure he’ll be able to watch over me, though.” She shrugged nonchalantly.
There were so many things that were messed up because of this accident. They wouldn’t be doing things normally. They wouldn’t be in their own little bubble before branching out to meet family or friends. Robby didn’t have either, he assumed Aria had both.
While Sloane talked with Aria, Robby slipped out of the room to find Gloria.
He knew her patterns like the back of his hand and, as suspected, she was in the ER hounding the weekend attending, Doctor Morales.
“Ah, just the man I was looking for—” Gloria turned to Robby.
“My soulmate was caught in the shooting and I—”
“You can take as much time off as you need.” Gloria finished. Robby blinked. “It’s hospital policy, in case you forgot.”
He did forget. Because he didn’t think about it.
For thirty-six years, he never found his soulmate and began to accept that he never would. Plenty of people never found their soulmate and led fulfilling lives. He wouldn’t categorize this as a fulfilling life but his job kept him busy and he hoped that, one day, he would be able to focus on the good things about it.
He saved countless lives. So why did he focus on the few he couldn’t?
So, no, he never thought about somehow finding his soulmate on one of the countless gurneys that passed through his emergency room. Never remembered the policies about such an occurrence. Hell, for the longest time, Robby thought rules like that were stupid because the hospital barely let staff go on paid maternity leave, but if their soulmate was hurt then they could take all the time they needed. He was grateful for those rules now.
When he came back to Aria’s room, Sloane was nowhere to be seen. He returned to his seat and let out a breath, “How’re you feeling?”
“Not as bad as some others, I’m sure.” Aria offered, something sad brewed behind her eyes.
“Yeah, well, you’re alive. Which is good.” Robby had to speak the words aloud, maybe that would help convince himself of it too.
She didn’t say anything in response to that. “So you’re Doctor Robby?” She asked instead.
She said it like she knew who he was though he was certain they had never met before. He would have remembered his soul-mark turning red earlier.
“Yeah,” He tilted his head, “You’ve heard of me?”
Aria chuckled softly, “Sloane talks about you all the time. ‘Second hottest senior doctor on the floor.’ An achievement given she’s a lesbian.”
“Oh.” Robby felt his face heat. From his neck to the tips of his ears. Then his eyebrows pinched together, “Second?”
