teaching your boyfriend jack abbot how to take good pictures of you!!!
just a drabble masterlist!
warnings: fashionista!reader, dresses and cleavage, literally only like 350 words, jack being a smug little shit in the end, pet names
notes: too lazy to write a whole fic and i was thinking about this on my forest walk the other day so here it is written down <3
"A little lower, Jack."
You instructed your doting boyfriend with one hand, the other resting by your hip. You had dressed up so cute, putting on your favourite little dress and stockings, holding a simple necklace between your collarbones down the curve of your breasts. You had brought Jack out to the park so you could go for a nice walk, but when you found a giant bush of your favourite flowers, how could you not want to take pictures?
Of course, you knew how to pose and how to angle yourself and all that social media stuff. Jack, on the other hand, not so much.
He had struggled to even hold the phone when you first gave it to him, and the first few pictures he took were at an awkward angle and his thumb was in the way. Now he was on one knee, holding the device with the excellence that you just grilled into him minutes prior, snapping as many shots of you as he could while you turned and posed.
You finally held up a hand to finish the photoshoot.
He handed the phone to you with shaking hands.
You inspected the photos, one by one, and Jack could see the dissection in your eyes. He curled his arms around your waist, dropping his chin to your shoulder, and you felt his stubble press against the side of your neck.
"You like them, doll?" He murmured, almost timid in his question. Truth be told, he'd take a hundred more pictures if you wanted them; you deserved to see yourself the way he saw you, absolutely beautiful every second.
After a long moment, you gave a curt nod, tucking your phone away in your pocket. He'd actually surprised you with how well he'd gotten after just a few minutes of your instruction, but you didn't want to let it get to his head.
Jack just grinned smugly, able to read your mind like an open book. He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, then your cheek, then your lips.
spencer reid buries his face in the crook of your neck everytime you hug because the feeling of your soft skin on his face reminds him of cuddling naked with you, absolutely in bliss
spencer reid goes to stores you’ve been together in and picks up every item you spent elevated time looking at, using his eidetic memory to his fullest advantage
spencer reid’s favorite place to be kissed (besides his lips) is right below his jawline underneath his ear. he likes how close you have to get to reach it, and he giggles every time you do.
spencer reid composes the music for your first dance at your wedding, an absolutely astonishing piece that he shyly insists is “just math and sound vibrations”. no one knows that he read every book he could find on composition and spend 5 months before he even proposed learning how to create your perfect melody
spencer reid thinks that the best thing in the world is how you look in the sunshine. he never considered himself the “going for a walk” type, but now everyday during golden hour he insists you go around the block “just to see the sunset!” and spends the whole time with his eyes glued to you
spencer reid gets ever so slightly turned on the first time you explicitly ask him for money. it was a small thing— you’d left your house without your wallet since spencer wanted to drive and had gone to the mall to spend some time out of the house. you fell absolutely in love with a bracelet you saw in the store and shyly walked up to him, asking for him to get it for you. he was reaching for his card before you finished your sentence, filled with pride that you were finally letting him take care of your unnecessary wants, alongside your needs. he began to let his mind wander to taking care of you in other ways, turned beet red, and quietly asked if you could go home.
summary: you’d done an splendid job of hiding your feelings for your attending for four years, but at one fateful night, everything changes.
warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, imposter syndrome, insecure? Reader, she pulls back from others, chief resident!reader, unprotected sex, DOWN BAD reader, unrequited love but not really, happy ending, English isn’t my first language<3
word count: 10.5k+
an: this is very self indulgent and I may have projected a LOT into reader. It might be a deal breaker for some of you but this reader is… very important to me, the whole fic is. Kinda probably being delusional and ooc with how Robby handles it but yeah… i hope you enjoy it!!!!
You must breathe. You must. You can’t pass out from holding your breath for too long because you are looking at him; it would be humiliating, really, awfully humiliating. You are way stronger than that. You have done this for years, you can do it for another shift.
If only your heart listened…
You feel the rise of your pulse, the thump of your heart against your ribcage, and you can even feel your stomach twisting in anxiety. Fuck. Fuck. You like this man so much that it is making your belly quiver, and butterflies flutter in your lungs.
You look away from his disheveled hair and big puffy jacket, sighing shakily as you glance down at the tablet in your hand. You have to stop thinking about him like that, he is just a man. Not any man, though; he is sad cow eye Robby, the attending, whose smile in praise makes you grin in delight.
Stooooop, you mentally curse yourself, shaking your head slightly as you try not to think about him anymore. You have patients to focus on, not how his mere presence lights up your day. Nope, you shouldn’t go there, not now anyway.
But how can you not? He is tall, broad, with a giant heart of gold that has helped you so many times when you’ve felt the horrible pressure of the job on your shoulders. He is sweet, caring, and tough when he needs to be.
He is everything, and you are just… you. Younger, unseasoned — or at least not as much as him — still a resident, less charismatic, and so not his type. You’ve seen his ex-partners, all gorgeous and way out of his league; of course, he wouldn’t look twice your way.
“Hey, kid,” Dana waves a hand in front of your face to get your attention, startling you a little, “You good?”
“Yup, just had a rough night. Didn’t get much sleep,” you smile at her, convincing enough that the Dana Evans believes you. You have gotten way too good at lying to everyone’s face, courtesy of having a fat crush on your boss. If anyone, nature fucking forbid, ever finds out, you’ll be doing the Walk of Shame very soon.
“I doubt anyone has, look at ‘em,” she scoffs, pointing at the staff who are yawning and resting their heads on their stations, “Dancin’ and drinkin’ like they didn’t have work to do next mornin’.”
“You all went out?” Big mistake, Dana’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise at your tone, and you cover the stumble with a smile, “Tequila does that. Maybe we should give fluids to everyone?”
“Honey, we thought–”
“It’s okay, I’m not that much of a party person anyway,” you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to busy yourself with the list of charts in front of you, “Besides, I had to study, like always.”
You don’t let her say anything else, walking away after you hand her the tablet, marching toward one of the rooms to check up on your patients.
It is not an unusual thing for them to have plans outside of work and not invite you. Yes, you have been here for four years, yes, you are the Chief Resident, but there is still an invisible wall between you and everybody else. You are the ‘smartass’, the perfect resident, the always studying until passing out girl, and also… someone who doesn’t think she fits into this tightly woven group of doctors and nurses.
You get along with all of them pretty well, joke around and share lunchtime together, but that doesn’t mean they are your friends. You don’t belong among these amazing people, and that’s okay. Having no strings attached to this place is for the best, because when you leave for an attending spot in another state, you can finally move on from Robby.
It’s not for the lack of trying on your end, you tried to understand them, tried to put yourself in their shoes, and see yourself from their point of view. You’ve joined them for beers a few times in the park, but they have had some inner jokes that you felt uncomfortable laughing at, thinking they might find you too intrusive.
And also… Robby. Anytime you are around him, you have to act to make sure he doesn’t see through you. This version of you that talks to him, that breathes the same air as he does, is not the real you, or maybe it is to some extent, but you can’t duel too hard on it. You are sure of one thing, though: he wouldn’t like the real melancholic in love you.
“Morning,” Perlah smiles at you, putting on the patches on the patient’s chest for an EKG, “How are you feeling today?”
“Eh, not too bad, it’s too early to start complaining,” you reply, going to the computer to see the patient’s chart, humming as you scroll through the notes the night shift has left, “We’re gonna have a hard day… It's the anniversary of Pittfest.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she shakes her head slowly, “It’s gonna be brutal, isn’t it? Robby’s…”
“Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot to handle,” you nod in agreement, giving her a small smile before looking down at your shoes, “But we can get through this, as a team. Like we always do.”
“Yeah, we had a discussion about this last night, actually– oh, fuck me… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
“Perlah, you’re fine, don’t worry,” you put on your gloves to assess the patient, sitting on the rolling stool to get closer to the bed, “I’m still studying for my Boards, so don’t sweat it.”
“You’ve been studying for nearly a year now! You’re gonna do great,” she squeezes your shoulder before stepping away to round the bed and check the patient’s vitals, “You need to relax a little…”
“Relaxing isn’t a word in my vocabulary.” You grab your stethoscope to listen to the patient’s heart and lungs, “Breath sounds are good, we just need to–”
“Hey.”
Fuck me and my life sideways.
“Good morning, Robby!” Perlah grins, following your words for the patient’s medication, giving you a little time to get your breathing back to normal.
“Fuck, sorry–” you didn’t look where Robby was standing before you stood up, and now you are standing chest to chest with your attending’s hands steadying you by gripping your arms.
He is so close, so fucking close that you can smell his woodsy cologne and aftershave. He looks way better from this angle; his nicely trimmed beard, his big brown eyes that seem more gentle than any time you’ve seen them.
“Don’t worry about it,” he gives you one of his easy smiles that makes you weak in the knees, “Just be careful next time. It could be Whitaker you knock out if you stand up like this.”
“He isn’t as fragile as you think,” you snort, acting as normal as possible at the warmth of his fingers wrapped around your biceps, trying not to faint from the close proximity, “But I keep that in mind, thank you.”
“Anytime,” he nods and lets go of you, taking a step back to give you a bit of space, and you have to ignore the ringing in your ears as you feel your nipples brush his chest when you move past him. “You’re already with a patient, I see.”
“I need the distraction before I have the next few days off,” you shrug, not daring to look at him because if you do, you might give out the tiniest clue about your feelings, so you stare at the keyboard under your fingers, “And hoping to leave on time.”
“You really don’t like this place, huh?” He chuckles as he walks behind you to look over your shoulder at the screen. He has done this before, several times in fact, but it never gets easier, and Robby doesn’t make it easier either. “I thought you’d be settling nicely after all these years.”
“This is not the time– to discuss my fucking personal life when my patient is coding, FUCK–” you run to the bed, flattening it down before starting compressions after seeing the flatline on the monitor, “Perlah—”
“Joy, Whitaker, in here!” Robby yells for the students to join you before he steps back, giving you room to work on your patient, “You got this?”
“Yeah!” You reply, not taking your eyes off your work, you’ll deal with him later. Now you have to save this poor guy; Robby can wait. He has to.
****
“Tell you what,” Donnie slides next to you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes at him so hard with a smirk on your face before resting your elbow on the countertop of the staff lounge, “A birdie told me you have the next few days off–”
“A birdie who happens to be my attending?” You ask with a soft scoff, oh boy, he was paying attention. Blinking at Donnie and waiting for him to continue, while you try to ignore the warmth growing in your belly at the thought of him listening to you.
“Mayyyybe,” he throws his hands up in defeat, “Guilty as charged, but!”
“Donnie, I can’t–”
“You don’t even know what I wanted to say!”
“I have my boards coming up in a few months–”
“You can spare us a few hours, right?”
Fucking kill me. Or him. Or both. He has to stop coming in unannounced with that beautiful smile and his dimples and...
“You need to stop snitching on me.” Turning your back to them, you reach for the coffee pot to pour yourself a cup in one of the plastic ones, “I might have a few days off, but I also need to sleep and study.”
“I promise you’ll do much better if you take a break for a few hours.” Robby leans on the doorframe, watching you closely, “They even convinced me to go out with them.”
“Wow, walking in unclaimed territory? How brave of you, Dr. Robby,” you say, looking between him and Donnie, who are waiting for an answer, “You guys are teaming against me. I’m defenseless.”
“Does this mean you’ll come tonight?” Donnie asks, raising his voice as you push past Robby slowly, ignoring how his large frame covers most of the space.
“I’ll think about it, now, please stop bothering me, I need to get back to work,” you shoo Donnie away, making your way to your work station, sitting down with a long exhale, rubbing your forehead as the image of Robby crosses your mind again.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
You log into your account, letting go of the badge on your chest to do some charting before you hear the familiar footsteps of him walking past you to his station that is unfortunately across from yours.
You’re not gonna look at him. You won’t. You shouldn’t. Today is already sucking the energy out of you with the heavy traumas rolling in; you can’t let your stupid crush do it as well.
But how can you look away? He looks so peaceful as he types, his eyebrows relaxed for a few seconds before he frowns at the screen, reaching for his phone in the pocket of his cargo pants.
His hair is tousled a little, soft short strands in the front going in so many directions that you know is the result of him running his fingers through them over and over throughout the day.
“Hey, smartass,” Dana calls you, and you glare at her before standing up, abandoning your coffee, “Code STEMI four minutes away. Teach those kids somethin’, they’ve been wandering around like ducks.”
“Half of them were with Samira, and some with Dr. Robby. Why are they not busy?” You ask, reaching for the hand sanitizer, rubbing the liquid between your fingers and palms as you point at Joy and Javadi to join you, “Ready for some action?”
“Not really,” Joy groans, “I don’t know how you decide to wake up and do this every day.”
“Trust me, I don’t know either.” You walk with them to the gurney the EMTs are rolling into the floor, “They pay enough to keep me alive.”
“Weren’t you attacked by a patient last week?” Javadi asks, falling into a rhythm beside you, nodding when Joy gawks at her, “Yeah, she was on nights,a nd a drunk patient pushed her face-first into the ground–”
“Okay, maybe they pay enough to almost keep me alive,” you roll your eyes and nudge them forward, “Let’s move, everyone!”
****
You sigh, dropping your forehead on the locker in front of you, letting your body breathe for a second. Rough doesn’t begin to cover this shift; not many deaths, luckily, just a patient that coded, but the heavy traumas that came in were brutal.
You aced every case that was thrown into your hands, A+ work, and an amazing patient satisfaction score—a great example of how a chief resident should be, just not in your own eyes. Of course, you know you did great, but there is still this hollowness inside your heart that screams imperfect in such a high-pitched tone that sometimes you have to silence it by burying your nose into your medical textbooks.
Now, you can’t, because Donnie managed to pull a frustrated ‘yes’ out of your mouth to their tonight’s get-together. Maybe he did it out of obligation because Dana and Perlah told him how you found out about last night, or maybe he genuinely wanted you there. Either way, you are going to this bar and have a few drinks before you go home and sleep your days away.
“Are you going too?” Mel comes out of nowhere, making you jump out of fear, letting out a little scream, clutching your shirt over your heart. She grimaces a little, giving you an apologetic smile, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“I know, it’s okay. I should be more aware of my surroundings,” you reach to rub her arm gently, and you relax immediately when she doesn’t pull back or flinch. The first time you tried to do that back a year ago, she wasn’t as welcoming as she is today, rightfully so, and you gave her time as she adjusted to The Pitt, and by extension, she got more comfortable with you. Not as friends, but enough to find some solace in your company, “And… yeah, I’m going. What about you? Any plans?”
“I have to pick up my sister,” she says and moves to her locker to take her backpack, “And I have to get takeout too. I might have a busy night ahead.”
“Yeah? Good for you, honestly. I could do with some sleep, but eh, promised Donnie I’d go. I don’t wanna hurt him when this is like… the first time I’m invited to a night out.”
“First time? I thought you’d join them in the park every night.”
“Not really,” you shrug, slinging your bag on your shoulder, grabbing your phone from the locker, and closing the metal door shut, “I mean, I do go out to the park with them when they mention it. Other times I just… I don’t like to intrude.”
“That’s understandable,” she nods, grinning at you before she starts walking out of the hallway, “See you in a few days!”
“See ya, have fun!” You wave at her, walking through the floor and toward the exit, ignoring the patients that are piling up because they are not your responsibility right now.
None of the crew is around, so you suspect they have already left for the bar, which is just what you want now: a little peace and quiet before you have to slide into your amazing acting role again.
The fresh air is exactly what you need; a little chilly, which raises goosebumps on your skin, but also warm enough that it doesn’t require you to layer up with a thick scarf and two shirts under your jacket. September air is always the best.
You breathe. A deep inhale that goes through your nose and cools down your face and lungs, before you exhale the warm air slowly. It is good to know you can still keep going even if you are feeling wrecked.
“Hey! Wait!”
Your ability to drop dead right now is very high. His voice… fuck. You can find him even in a concert so loud, if he just starts talking with his gravelly raspy voice that rumbles through his chest and moves past his chords. The same voice that says your name, orders the med students and keeps the ED from falling apart. The same voice you wished you could hear in a slightly different way.
“Hey,” you mutter quickly, giving him a curious nod as he jogs toward you, his backpack swinging with each step, “I thought you’d already left.”
“I wanted to, but Jack kept me behind for a patient,” he pants as he stands next to you, flushing from cheeks to neck so beautifully you have to look down at your shoes to regulate your heartbeat just as he does for an entirely different reason, “I hope… You don’t mind me joining you on your walk there?”
“What? No, no, of course not,” you say with ease, the mask coming up again, “It’s a short walk anyway. We’ll be with them soon.”
“That eager to get rid of me?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows at you, and you have to bite your tongue not to say something or worse, fucking moan at the sight, “I promise I’m good company.”
“I did not– why are you teasing me?” You shake your head and walk away from him, and Robby slides next to you, “I know you are good company, I didn’t mean that you’re not!”
“It’s okay, I took offense only a little,” he chuckles when you groan and hide your face in your hands, his arm brushing against yours as he walks side by side with you, “What do you plan on drinking?”
“Good question, I want at least ten margaritas and hopefully three gin and tonics on Donnie’s wallet because he dragged me here. You?”
“You plan on getting shit faced, I respect that,” he chuckles and his voice sends shivers down your spine, “Hmm… I don’t know. I think I could go with classic Bourbon neat, or I could have a couple of beers. Definitely no plans on getting wasted as you do.”
“Live a little,” you say, tightening your grip on your backpack. You have to stop, but you can’t, not when he is looking at you the way he always does, careful and gentle. “You could start with a good Espresso Martini.”
“Noooot a fan of my caffeine and alcohol blended together,” he shrugs, giving you one of his bear-shaped smiles and shrugs, one of those that make your pulse skyrockets, “But I never say no to a good Gin.”
“You’ve got good taste,” you nod, thanking everything between the earth and the sky when the bar comes into view, walking a little faster to get away from him, even for a second, enough to take a deep breath but he is fast and catches up with you, not leaving your side, “Ah, there they are.”
He hums and waits for you to fully go past the door before following you inside. Ever the gentleman, he even held the door for you. You have to stop, or you would one hundred percent embarrass yourself.
“Heyyyy, look! Our rockstar chief residentis finally gracing us with her presence!”
“Fuck all the way off to Mars, Donnie,” you slap his shoulder playfully, hugging him and squealing when he decides to twirl you around a little before putting you on the ground, “That was not necessary!”
“It definitely was,” he scoffs playfully, leading you to the booth everyone’s sitting in, “Enjoy the night before your four days of sleeping and laziness.”
“Hell yeah,” you groan, looking over your shoulder to look at Robby, finding him smiling and shaking his head, averting your gaze before he manages to catch you red-handed and nudge Donnie in the elbow, “You are definitely buying me my first margarita though.”
“Absolutely!”
****
“I’m g’nna get another drink!” You stumble to the bar counter after Donnie gave you a thumbs-up. With slow and unsteady steps, you manage to get yourself through the crowd and sit on one of the stools with a loud sigh, “Can I order somethin’?”
“Don’t you think you had enough?” A pretty lady comes to you, and you grin when you see her bartender badge. “I can get you your drink and a glass of water.”
“Both, please and thank you!” You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, leaning on your elbows on the countertop, “For my driiiink… hmm, I think I want a Whiskey Sour! And cold water? Please?”
“Coming right up!”
You sit silently, feeling the buzz of the alcohol in your ears. You try, you really, really do, but even laughing when Cassie and Dana laugh, or when Donnie tries to do shots on the table, it still isn’t enough to get them to fill you in on their inside jokes, or maybe they do, but you feel like an outcast. Whatever it is, you want to be a part of their group, a friend to them, more than just a smartass or chief resident to them.
But the fitting in is not because of your shy and introverted personality or them not wanting you in, maybe it is on a small scale, but it is not the main reason. It is because of him. Robby. Michael fucking Robinavitch. The man who stole your heart.
He is beautiful when he blushes, and now his cheeks are probably hurting from grinning for so long. His face is red, flushed to the chest probablyو with his lips wrapping around the rim of his glass. He is handsome, deliciously so. His beard is nicely trimmed, and his hair is cut in a way that makes his neck stand out way more.
“Here you go,” she hands you your drinks and moves to another customer, letting you drink your whiskey sour with a deep sigh.
“Enjoying the night?” Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t catch a break from him.
“Yup,” you hiccup, drowning the rest of your drink without looking at him, licking the liquid off your lips, “Love how I don’t belong anywhere. It’s so cool, it makes one wonder what they did wrong.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, oh is right,” you scoff, glancing at him for a second, finding him exhaling before taking the empty stool next to yours.
“What’s wrong? Why do you not… feel like you belong?”
“Not the best convo to have when I’m drunk, but if you insist,” you shrug, and look at him finally, finding him listening so intently, waiting for you to fill him in. He looks exceptionally good tonight, with his cargo pants still on and a clean green long-sleeve shirt that clings to his biceps in the best way, and frames his belly just right.
“I do.”
“Ugh, it’s stupid!”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“It is! Because if it were anyone else, they’d have already made friends!” You cry out, your feelings pouring into your hands, “I’ve done everything! I thought- I thought I was enough to fit in, but fuckو it’s hard! And then there’s…” you take a deep breath and stop talking before you tell your biggest secret to your biggest secret.
“What?” He presses slightly, pushing your water towards you slowly, “Drink this for me, sweetheart.”
“Nothing,” you shake your head hysterically, reaching for the glass without further consideration, and he hums in approval as you take a large sip, letting the cool water go down your esophagus, “Nothing…”
“C’mon, you can trust me, ya know,” he leans forward a little, decreasing the distance between your bodies, “I won’t tell a soul.”
“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not, I’m sure. You can tell me.”
“I can’t tell you about you–” you gasp, watching his eyes widen in shock. The reality settles in, and you feel your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck–”
“What do you mean?” He chuckles in disbelief, a playful undertone in his voice as he looks at you a little more closely, “Come on, you’ve talked more than you wanted to already.”
“Nothing,” you hiss, drowning the rest of your water before trying to stand up, but the world gets dizzy around you for a good, lasting second. Robby is quick to grab you by the waist, holding you steady and safe between his spread legs.
Both of his large hands are gripping your hips tightly now, pulling you forward a little so you can use his shoulders to keep yourself up. He looks fucking enchanting like this, gazing up at you with concern and a boyish enthusiasm you have only seen in him when he would talk to Nurse Hastings.
He is so warm and broad under your arms, his shoulders are hard under your fingertips as you use him to stand straight, looking into his eyes with a pout. You can never have him, but if this is the closest thing you get to experience with him, then so be it.
“I could help, you know? My therapist says communication is the backbone of–”
“Shut uuup, oh my god!” You whine, pouting even harder when you see how he is trying to talk to you — or get you to talk to him — and it makes your heart clench in adoration. How you love this big, sad, pathetic, gorgeous man with chocolate pudding eyes.
“Am I the reason you haven’t found any friends yet? Because I can talk to them–”
“If I make friends, they’ll know I like you!”
You need to die. Like. Right now. Right fucking now. The ground needs to open up and swallow you whole before you melt into a puddle from embarrassment.
Fuck the Margaritas and fuck the Gin Tonic, and also fuck that Whiskey Sour you had. They had you telling your biggest secret to the last person who should have known.
Your stomach growls in disapproval, and you can feel the ball rising slowly. Pushing Robby away, you dart outside of the bar to empty your stomach, tearing up a little as the acid burns the back of your throat, but at least you feel better now.
“It’s okay, let it all out,” Robby pushes your hair out of your face, rubbing your back before handing you a wet wipe you are sure he pulled out of your bag, “You’re okay. Drink a little water for me?”
You nod silently, wiping your mouth and chin before throwing the wipe in the trash, snatching the bottle from his hands. You do not want to be rough with him, but now he knows. He knows you like him; he doesn’t know it happened in your intern year, but he knows how you feel, why you haven’t managed to find friends — not the full story, but still enough.
“I didn’t know you had feelings for me–”
“We’re not gonna talk about this.” You grab your phone and bag from his hand, marching away from the bar, but to your very unfortunate luck, he follows you, “Go inside, Robby!”
“No, come on! You can’t just tell me you like me and leave!” He yells, falling into a step behind you, “Just– wait a second!”
“Why?” You turn around suddenly, pinning him to his spot with a harsh glare, “I’ve been trying my damn hardest to keep this to myself. It’s just a crush, I can get over it, alright? You’re not that special. I’ll move on when I get my board and attending position.”
“But you haven’t made friends because of–”
“It’s my burden to bear, not yours. And as I said, it’s just a fucking crush.” You don’t explain more, groaning in frustration as you basically jog into the sidewalk and walk back home.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t know that he is that special to you; he is everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and he is out of your league, worse, he is your fucking boss. And of course, he now knows you like him.
At least he isn’t aware that you don’t like him, but you love him.
****
“Good morning, rockstar,” Robby slides next to you against the central, a shit-eating grin on his face as he puts a coffee cup between your hands, “Did you have a good break?”
“It’s too early to deal with you, Dr. Robby.” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, remembering every word you said to him in your drunken state, and now? He is fucking smiling at you like that didn’t happen, or worse, he’s decided to torture you with that information.
You were dueling about running away on your days off. You could have easily picked up your car, a luggage full of clothes, and gotten on the road away from Pittsburgh after you quit medicine for good. Or you could show up and act like you’d blacked out.
“I got you coffee.” He pushes the cup between your fingers gently, nudging your foot with his, “I know you like it black and bitter.”
“You never get me coffee,” you squint your eyes at the cup, running a hand down your neck, “What are you doing, Doctor Robinavitch?”
“I got you coffee.”
“I see that,” you hiss at him, heart pounding against your ribs as you turn your head to look at him, “You never pay attention to how I have my coffee. You never get me coffee.”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” he leans on his palm on the central, moving a little closer and tilting his head to look you in the eye, “I thought after our last conversation–”
“Absolutely fucking not–” you grab the coffee and try to dodge his arm, but he is quicker, falling into a step next to you with ease. You can see the smugness in his face, and it only makes the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings harder and faster, “Stop following me!”
“I’m not following you, I’m walking with my chief resident to her next patient,” he pushes his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, “You wanna tell me when everything started?”
“You wanna tell me why you are being a jerk?”
“I’m not a jerk, I’m curious–”
“Wrong thing to be curious about,” you take a sip of your coffee, melting a little inside at the thought of him buying you coffee from your favorite spot, too. “If you excuse me–”
“We gotta talk about it, rockstar–”
“We don’t. We never should. I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking correctly, I said something, and I regret ever agreeing to come to one of these shitty get-togethers after work. I need to work now, so please, let me do my job. And you don’t ever have to worry about my stupid feelings towards you.”
You march away from him, going into the closest examination room and pulling the curtains, relaxing when you find it empty.
You know you overreacted, you know you should have slowed down, but how could you really? You’ve been carrying this secret for four years, and suddenly the only person who wasn’t supposed to find out is fully aware of it.
Although you are mad at yourself and him, you catch yourself smiling at the bitter taste of coffee. Whoever has told him about this must know you very well, but you doubt anyone is close to you enough to know how you take your takeaway coffee.
If this were the first interaction after that night, you are already dreading the rest.
****
One approach turns into two, then three, and then you lose count. He is everywhere. And by everywhere, you mean it. Every turn, every room, every stop. He is just there.
It annoys you because you are sure your adrenaline levels spike when you see him way more than before. Your face burns when he catches your eyes and gives you an easy smile, or a wink — fuck, you had to make a beeline to the bathroom the first time he did that to splash water on yourself before you passed out — and worse, he stands way too close to you.
Coffee becomes a regular thing; some days it is accompanied by a croissant or an egg and bacon sandwich. He even ordered you lunch a few times, for himself too, and tried his hardest to bribe you into eating the food with him in the staff lounge, which you declined and thanked Dana for pushing you into an incoming trauma.
Never was anything physical or complimentary outside your work in the past few months, at least not until now.
“You look beautiful today.”
Simple, right? No. NO. Your eyes are probably as big as his head when you turn to look at him, but you notice something different in his smile, something shy, almost, but his eyesare twinkling in mischief as they did before.
“What?” You whisper, clutching the tablet in your hand as you stand in a secluded hallway with so little space between your bodies; he isn’t crowding you, but he isn’t standing at an appropriate distance either.
“I said you look beautiful today. I noticed your new scrubs and earrings. They bring out your features–”
“What the fuck are you doing, Robby?” Robby. Not Dr. Robby. Not Dr. Robinavitch. Just Robby. You are mad, your heart is leaping into your throat, and there is a pinkish tint on his cheeks that makes you want to reach out and kiss him right on the cheekbone. Or slap him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what, sweetheart?” He looks genuinely confused, and it only makes you whine and stomp your foot on the ground, “Am I… upsetting you?”
“No, and that’s the fucking problem!” You say with a soft whimper in your tone, “I tell you I like you, and then suddenly you are bringing me coffee, lunch, snacks, and then you start calling me beautiful.”
“I’m trying to be nice–”
“You are being cruel!” You don’t realize when tears begin to fall on your face, “You are purposefully pulling on my pigtails and do-do things that make me feel happy, and you know that I fucking like you and it’s making me go crazy! I hate that you know that, and you are using it against me! You are teasing me, and ugh! I hate it!”
You storm off, without even glancing at him, moving straight for the locker room, crying harder when he follows you with urgency.
“I didn’t mean–”
“If you keep doing this, I will quit and leave!” You grab your stuff and put on your jacket before slamming your locker room shut, pushing Robby out of your way forcefully by slamming the tablet to his chest, “Stop playing with my feelings. I’ve been doing just fine for four years! Don’t fucking make my life hell!”
“You… you’ve liked me for four years?”
“At this point, I don’t like you, I love you, but you’re making it really fucking hard to move on!” You furiously wipe your tears, staring into his eyes for a hot minute, “I will, though, I will move on when I get out of Pittsburgh.”
“What–”
“I’m done for the day,” you leave without even glancing at him anymore. He stands there, alone, with a heavy heart, before he starts to follow you, but Dana is quick to grab him by the arm when he is close. His head snaps in her direction, his eyes burning with tears.
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“I… I told her she looked beautiful?”
“You— then why the fuck did she leave?” She gawks and looks at the path you took in shock, “You told her you liked her, right?”
“I… no? I didn’t even tell you–”
“Cap, you literally circle around her like a male bird wanting to mate. I don’t know if she likes you…”
“She’s loved me… for four years,” he tears up, hot drops rolling down his cheeks, “And I tried to show her that I liked her too but–”
“Four years? And no one knew?” She drags him to his work station, pushing him down on the chair with a soft frown, “How did I not notice?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” he pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes after handing the tablet to Dana, groaning in frustration, anger filling his body, “I’m so fucking disgusted by myself.”
“You have to fix it, we are already down a senior resident…” Dana slips behind a computer, sighing in relief when she finds what she needs to, “After the shift… you’ll fix it after your shift.”
****
You are studying. Again. The boards can’t come any faster, it seems, and you are heartbroken and frustrated by yourself and Robby. You thought you could handle him knowing your feelings amidst the situation of him being overly doting and teasing you.
But you couldn’t, not when he was looking at you with his perfect cow eyes that could melt your heart. He was so… so frustratingly beautiful and sweet when he would hand your coffee and follow you around.
If only he felt the same.
Your nose is practically buried in your books when you hear the knock. It is slow, steady, and echoes in your apartment. With hesitation, you stand up and walk out of your reading room, your sock feet dragging across the cold floor as you approach the door.
You gasp when you open the door, eyes roaming Robby’s body as he stands with his hands in the pockets of his huge riding jacket, eyes red and wide like yours. Your heart skips a beat at the idea of him crying; the reason doesn’t matter, but this time it should, because it has led him to your door.
“Can I come in?” He sounds so small as he looks down at his shoes, waiting for you to respond before he looks up and starts rambling, “Or I can just say what I wanna say, and then you can slam the door in my face, but I have to–”
“Come in,” you step aside gently, pulling the door open for him, looking at his back as he eases into the space of your apartment, slowly taking off his riding jacket and draping it over his arm before he turns around, “What are you doing here, Dr. Robby?”
“I came here to apologize.” He runs a hand through his hair, not knowing what to do with his body as he stands tall in your hallway leading to the living room, but he knows what he wants to do with his words: “I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. That-that possibility was not even on my mind; it didn’t even come as a thought to me. I thought that your little crush was cute, and I wanted to make you happy, and in the process of that–”
“You were teasing me, Doctor Robinavitch, that’s different from trying to make someone happy,” you say in a clipped tone, hugging yourself closely as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, “You enjoyed how I… How I got distracted at my job, especially after you found out that medicine is what keeps me tied to this place, yet you used that–”
“I don’t want medicine to be the only string that ties you to The Pitt,” he takes a step forward, and you take one back, inhaling shakily when your back hits the wall, “During the past few months, I started to see you, not as my resident, definitely not like I used to. I saw you, truly, what you like to eat between traumas, what flavor of Monster you hide in your locker room in a water bottle filled with ice – which is a very strange way of keeping a beverage cool when we have a fridge – anyway, uh…”
He scratches his beard, his eyes meeting yours in an unhurried gaze, and he finds the unshed tears that you have been holding back all night in order to study, begin to wet your eyelashes.
“I began to know you, the person you have been shielding from me and everyone for years,” he takes another step closer, his free hand moving to ghost over your cheek, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you, “You are fucking brilliant, do you know it? You move like you own the department; you are unstoppable. And so, so pretty when you are teaching. Did I ever tell you how good you are at explaining procedures to interns? It feels like you have years of experience, but it’s just you. The talented, magnificent you.”
“I… I didn’t know you thought about me like that.” Your lips begin to tremble, breaths coming out in quick puffs of air, tears finally rolling down your cheeks as you stare at him with desperate anticipation, “I didn’t think you’d notice me beside my work.”
He smiles, one of his radiant smiles that warms up your body and pulls his cheek up into the most gentle expression you have ever seen. He finally lets his fingers graze your cheek, his dry knuckles move across your soft skin, and he can’t bring himself to look away from you, not even for one second.
“I always notice you because you are one of the best residents I’ve ever had,” he finally cups your cheek, leaning down a little, “But I started to… notice personal things; like every time you chew on the end of your pen when you are concentrating, or,” he chuckles a little, “Or when you’d grumble under your breath when someone had taken your snacks, or… when you try to laugh when you don’t even understand a joke.”
“I don’t–”
“I didn’t know a woman could be as adorable and beautiful as you are before.” Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you gaze into his eyes. He wipes off the small tears that stream down your cheeks with slow and delicate movements, “But you… You are captivating. And I am very sorry for being a dick to you when I really wanted to start getting to know you more and potentially asking you out if you wanted to know me too.”
“I’ve been in love with you for four years; of course I want to get to know you too.”
You lean in and capture his lips softly, hands moving up his chest slowly before wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses you back, a little more feverish than you do, letting go of his jacket to hold on to your waist, pressing you into his body to feel every curve of your form, making you sigh into his mouth.
“I don’t want to…” You gasp when he nips at your bottom lip, his heavy lids widening as he hears your words, but you chuckle breathlessly and shake your head, “Not tonight. I don’t wanna have sex with you tonight, Robby–”
“Michael, call me Michael,” he whispers, pecking your lips a few more times before moving down to your cheek, peppering your face with kisses until your tears are dried and you are giggling, “We can do whatever you want. I can even leave–”
“No!” You whine, locking your fingers around his neck to keep him right where he is, “I don’t want you to leave, I just… not tonight. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were hoping for–”
“I came here to grovel for making you tear up and leave the shift early today, and also how I was the reason you thought you couldn’t fit in amongst the people who love you so much,” he kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger on the spot, “Sex was the last thing on my mind. Whatever you’d like to do, we’ll do exactly that.”
“Do you want to stay the night?” You whisper, playing with the neckline of his scrubs, not daring to look into his eyes at the moment, fearing he’d say no and leave despite him telling you he’d do anything you say. “You could say no–”
“Sweetheart, look at me,” he cradles your face in his palms, forcing you to meet his intense eyes, “I want to stay, I want to sleep here, I want to stay with you. If I ever say no, you are allowed to slap me.”
“I won’t hurt you,” you relax immediately at his words, wrapping your arms around his middle, resting your chin on his chest, “But I will exile you to the couch.”
“Good to know,” he laughs, kissing your forehead again before he lets go of you to bend down and pick up his jacket, kicking off his shoes to the side nicely before he grabs your hand and squeezes it, “Bedroom?”
“Mhmm,” you nod and guide him through your apartment, biting your cheek to stop the grin forming on your face. Robby. In your living space. Wanting to sleep here. Wanting to know you better. Wanting to love you the right way.
“Your place is beautiful.”
“Oh, please, I can barely find time to decorate this place.” You push your door open, extending your hand to grab his jacket, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed, “You can give me your scrubs to throw in the washing machine.”
“I don’t have spare clothes with me–”
“Well, you could sleep naked–”
“And you said you didn’t want to have sex,” he pulls you into his lap with ease, holding you by his hands on your waist, “Trying to get me naked before bed.”
“I can still throw you out of my apartment, trade carefully,” you rub your nose against his, enjoying how he closes his eyes to feel the sensation even more, “But… I have spare clothes for you, I think. My father left a few things here last time he visited me.”
“Lovely,” he kisses your shoulder over your shirt, “You look tired, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I need to get some sleep,” you lean down to rest your head on his shoulder, “I’ve been studying for hours again. My eyes are burning.”
“You are going to pass the boards, and I’m telling you as someone who’s trained residents for years,” he hugs you close, and you melt in his embrace, enjoying the way his long arms engulf you and make you feel safe, “You gonna do amazing.”
“Thank you,” you kiss his neck one last time before slowly wiggling your way onto the bed, looking at him playfully, “Go and wash up, I’m gonna find clothes for you.”
“Okay,” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he stands up and points at the bathroom, “There?”
“Yup, you can see the laundry basket in the corner,” you wait for him to walk into the bathroom before flopping down on the bed, panting and staring at his jacket on your bed, bringing the fabric to your nose, smelling his cologne, and grinning to yourself.
It is unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Robby is in your bathroom, cleaning himself and changing clothes. He is going to sleep in your bed. In your house. He is going to hold you.
Fuck, he even kissed you.
This is something out of your wildest dreams. Kissing Michael Robinavitch was one of the few things you were sure you’d never experience. But he is here, telling you he likes you, telling you he wants to try, and it’s making you giddy.
You hear the water stop, and you roll out of the bed to grab the clothes you promised, finding only a gray t-shirt that could fit him after you lower his jacket on the chair in the corner of the room.
“Hey,” you turn around, finding him standing in the doorframe of your bathroom with only his boxers on, his chest turning a bright shade of red when he notices you eyeing him up and down. He chuckles a little, running a shy hand through his hair as he approaches you, “Could you find something?”
“J-just a t-shirt?” You hand it to him, turning around and making a beeline for your side of the bed, taking off your socks with your back to him, “Sorry, no pants.”
“It’s fine if you’re okay with me sleeping—”
“Yeah, yeah! It’s okay!” You try not to sound so flustered, but the reality of your crush sleeping behind you with just a shirt and his boxers on makes you dizzy. “Do you want anything?”
“No,” you can hear the smugness in his voice before you feel the bed dip under his weight as soon as you lie down. Your breath hitches when he scoots closer to the middle of the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to his body, and you have to bite your tongue to stop the soft whimper from falling from your lips.
It’s not sexual. It’s warm, it is more of a purr than anything, like you are finally where you are meant to be after rejecting it for so long. Robby pulls the covers over your bodies before he cages you between his arms, burying his face into your neck.
You feel safe, and that’s more than enough to knock you out to a blissful sleep in Robby’s embrace.
****
You’re being dramatic. He wants to be here; if he didn’t, he would leave immediately after he apologized. Hell, he wouldn’t even apologize. But there is a tiny voice in the back of your head that is shouting in the distance that you need to go, you need to pull away.
You should study. Right. You can leave the room and be back before he is up. He likes you… But does he really?
You feel his arm tightening around your waist in his sleep, keeping you against him with a firm grip. How can you think he doesn’t want you? It isn’t how you can, it is the very insecurity that has been bottled over the years telling you that is the truth.
He was pressured into this. If you kept your mouth shut that night, he wouldn’t need to go out of his way to make you feel comfortable. He wouldn’t be obligated to do anything about it.
You sigh, enjoying the warmth radiating from his hand on your skin for a lasting minute before you slowly slip out of his hold. You want nothing more than to cuddle him tightly and kiss him and hold him, but the hesitation that you feel is messing with your head. What if he really came here out of force to keep you from quitting? What if–
“Hey…” Robby grumbles in his sleep, reaching for you after he blinks rapidly and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to him.
Your head snaps in his direction, lips parting in surprise as he gently grabs your wrist, a small frown making its way to his face. He looks so peaceful like this, all the grinding hard work of the ED faded away with sleep, at least for a few hours.
“Go back to sleep…” You don’t touch him back; instead, stare at his face with a deep fondness. You don’t deserve him. He isn’t the most perfect man, quite far from that actually, but he is… endearing, whole-consuming, enough to set your skin ablaze.
“Why are you up? What time is it?” He groans and sits up on his elbow, squinting to look at the watch on the wall of your bedroom before giving you an unamused look, “Five in the morning? Please, get back in bed.”
“I have to study,” you pull your hand away and try to stand up, but he is quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist again, “Robby…”
“I told you to call me Michael,” he gently tugs you down, and you let yourself be moved until he is sitting against the headboard with your back to his chest, both of his arms wrapped tightly around you as he looks down into your eyes. “You need to take a break, sweetheart. I’ve seen you studying for so long, even in The Pitt sometimes. Unless it’s not about actually studying… Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, it’s not you, it’s–” you take a shaky breath, hands coming up to hold onto his biceps, “I… I thought you… nevermind, I let my head wander off–”
“Listen to me,” he brings his hand up to cup your face, his grip firm and steady to make sure you are listening carefully, “If I have to remind you that I like you and want you every hour of the day, I will. Because I want you, and I’m not fucking around this time.”
“I thought you were doing all of this because you felt forced to,” you rush out the words, pressing your ear to his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart, “It’s so fucking stupid, I know!”
“It’s not, I promise you, it is not stupid at all,” he kisses your forehead, “I’m not forced to do anything, sweetheart. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. But I do, I want you so fucking much–”
You crash your lips into his, clinging to his arms with desperation, kissing him with all the strength you have got inside you, and he reciprocates with a small chuckle, moving his lips with yours in sync. His thumb strokes the apple of your cheek as he devours you.
You wiggle in his hold until you are straddling his hips, lips still locked and tongues tied together. You slide your palms under his t-shirt, breath shuddering when you roll your hips and find him already half-hard in his boxers.
“Hmm, you are feisty,” he groans when you scoot a little closer and start grinding over his bulge, both hands moving up to his to feel the heat of his skin, “Are you sure you wanna go this fast?”
“I need to feel you right now,” you gasp against his lips, pushing up the fabric of his t-shirt until he grabs the back of the fabric and pulls it off quickly, giving you time to breathe and take off your clothes in haste before you crawl back into his lap, underwear abandoned on the bed.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he trails his hands up and down your hips, squeezing the flesh and biting his lips as he lets his fingers wander over your exposed skin, reaching around your body to undo your bra, latching his mouth to your collarbone, “Fuckin’ love you like this…”
“Michael,” you sigh his name, enjoying the way your hands explore the broadness of his shoulders while he gets rid of your bra and starts kissing your breasts and sinking his teeth into the flesh, “Fuck, baby…”
“I got you, beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, grunting when you drag your bare pussy against his thin boxers, making his cock jump in excitement, “Jesus, you are so fucking warm.”
“Please, I need you,” you push him back a little to make room for your hands to travel down the expanse of his chest, pulling on the hem of his boxers before he starts pushing the fabric down his ass and thighs until his cock is free, bobbing with desire.
He is big. You didn’t expect anything else, but to see it finally, and not imagining it still knocks the breath out of your lungs.
“You should let me prepare you–”
“I’m not joking when I say I’ll start spiraling if you’re not inside me by the next minute,” you drop your forehead on his, locking your eyes with his as you line up his tip with your wet hole, “I’m so pent up I could probably come from just sitting on you.”
“You don’t wanna know how I’m doing, sweetheart,” He groans, gripping your hips tightly when you slide down on his throbbing cock with ease, both of your lips falling open at the sensation, “I can come just by looking at you.”
“Y–you feel so good, Mike,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging into his shoulders as you begin to roll your hips, his cock reaching deep into your core and stretching you out in the most delicious way, “I’ve always imagined doing this with you.”
“Yeah? How did you imagine it, sweetheart?” He grunts, bending his knees and leaning back against the headboard to have more space to help you bounce on his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he follows your movement, “How many times did you imagine it?”
“So many times I lost count," you throw your head back, closing your eyes when he starts thrusting his hips up, driving his cock deeper into you while he clings to your body, “I thought our first time would be sweet, a-and not… not rushed, fuck…”
“What is this? Another of your fantasies?” He leans forward, attacking the column of your throat with kisses and bites, groaning and squeezing your body the faster you move, “Did you think about us fucking too?”
“All the time!” You hiccup when he reaches between your bodies to play with your clit; and play he does with how he rubs quick circles then pulls back when you shudder, only resuming his attacks when you grab his wrist tightly and roll your hips in an angle that his tip nudges your sweet spots, “Fuck- fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come–”
“Come for me then,” he gasps when you clench around him, your warmth engulfing and choking his dick until he is throbbing inside you, “I’m so close too. Can you come with me, huh? I know you can, C’mon, sweetheart.”
Your orgasm washes over you intensely, making you jolt forward and hug Robby tightly while your hips stutter and thighs begin to shake. He isn’t in any better position; you are just too tight and too warm, and he is losing himself in the feeling of you.
He follows you soon, his cock twitching and filling you up with his thick load, wrapping his arms around your back and shoulders as he thrusts a few times inside you, biting your collarbone to muffle the groan that falls from the depths of his chest.
“You okay?” He asks, still breathless and sensitive as he holds you close, relaxing when he feels you nod and mutter a tired ‘yes’ under your breath, “Let’s get cleaned up and then we go back to bed.”
“You don’t have a shift tomorrow?” You ask, slowly lifting yourself from his lap to lie down on the bed, humming when he hovers over you to kiss you sweetly on the lips before he gets off the bed to find a towel in your bathroom.
“Nope,” he shakes his head as he walks back, crawling on the bed next to you to wipe off the mess he made between your legs, swiping the towel gently, careful not to touch anywhere that could be too sensitive, “I’d not be this relaxed if I had to go back there.”
“You’ll stay then?” You caress his arm when he settles back beside you, pulling you into his chest, smiling and holding you right above his heartbeat.
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
****
This has to be one of the worst shifts he’s ever had. In his top ten, definitely. Not because it is crowded or they have some horrible traumas rolling in. No. It is bad because he doesn’t have his chief resident here with him.
He should be used to this, not having you around. If it were seven months ago, he wouldn’t care really, but now he does, because he wasn’t in a relationship with you before, so the distance didn’t hurt as badly as it does today.
You are having the day to yourself, spending the hours on the bed or, as he very much insisted, using his card to buy anything you wanted because you deserve it after the hellish few weeks you had to study before your Boards.
He is walking out of a trauma when he hears your voice, mid-conversation with Santos as they make their way to the central.
“Michael!”
He has at most ten seconds to brace himself before you abandon all the HR rules and throw yourself into his arms.
“I did it! I passed the Boards!”
“You did?!” He asks, laughing in excitement before he pulls back a little to cradle your face in his hands, pulling you in for a quick yet feverish kiss in front of the entire department, “Why am I even asking? Of course you did! My brilliant girl, I knew you could do it.”
“Wouldn’t have done it without your support,” you kiss him back, grinning and rocking on your feet in happiness, “I also had an interesting interview upstairs… someone had put in a recommendation letter for me.”
“Hmm, very nice of him, you should ask him out.”
“Good thing I’m already dating him.” You wink at him, tightening your arms around his neck as he does around your waist, “Would be a shame if it was Abbot who wrote it though–”
“Don’t even think about it,” he shakes his head before he notices Dana and Donnie approaching, “What’s going on?”
“I’m gonna say something, and you can’t say no, rockstar,” Donnie starts, pointing at you, “The only answer we’ll be accepting is ‘yes, thank you, we’ll be there’, got it?”
“I don’t even know what you're gonna say!”
“We're going to throw a party for you because you passed, and we will not–” he brings his hand up to stop you from interrupting, “We will not accept no for an answer.”
“You don’t have to–”
“We want to, honey,” Dana rests a hand on your shoulder, “We love you, and we want to show it.”
“I…” you look back at Robby, and he has to stop himself from pouting at the small lingering hesitation and insecurity in your eyes. Instead, he kisses your head and squeezes your waist.
“We want to celebrate you. We can cancel it if you’d like. But we really, really want to do this for you; it’s the least we can do after all these years.”
“It won’t be a bother?” You ask in a hushed tone, blinking at him with a shy smile,” Because I’d hate if you–”
“Nothing is a bother when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
“Okay…” you turn around and look at the nurses, “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you–”
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Dana pulls you out of Robby’s arms, hugging you tightly without even glancing at the man, “You gonna rock this job, kid.”
“You accepted the spot?” Robby smirks, crossing his arm and looking at you with playful eyes.
pairing: pope cody x bambi!reader ( no use of y/n )
summary: pope wishes he was your favorite cody brother.
content warnings: fem!reader, mention of how pope gets mistreated by everyone else in his life, mention of drugs + alcohol, they share a bed, too many mentions of smurf, they're kind of loneliest guy in the world x loneliest girl in the world
a/n: hai my lovelies! this is me introducing bambi reader to you!!!! the link leads to a pinterest board, which i'm still working on, but i hope you like her as much as i do. gif credits to @wesandresons !! <3
wc: 4.4k
No one was exactly sure why you were friends with Craig. Not even Craig, but he liked you. And though he tried his best to get you into his bed, it never worked. And god, he tried. Annoyingly so. Your resolve never wavered, standing with not being interested in Craig whatsoever.
At every party he threw, you were the girl hiding in the living room or in the kitchen. Anywhere where strange, drunk and high, people couldn't talk to you. It was almost impossible to find you, yet you also seemed to never go home, instead deciding to remain at the loud party surrounded by people you didn't like.
It was strange for Pope to watch you, know that you feel the same things he did, but do nothing.
You had every right to disappear, leave this haunted house, go back to your own.
Instead, he'd find you in the living room, remote in hand. You'd usually shoot him a sweet, knowing smile, aware that he was feeling just as uneasy as you did. Not fond of any loud noise, or drunk people. And he wished he had the courage to ask you if you wanted to leave the house with him, if you wanted to just drive around, sit at the beach and watch the waves.
But he'd always turn on his heels and go back outside and hate himself for it.
If he asked you to sit with him, you probably wouldn't even bother him, wouldn't try and force him to drink alcohol or get high like everyone else. You probably wouldn't even talk to him, knowing he liked his silence. He always regretted not asking you the moment the smell of beer hit his nose, and the moment water splashed onto his clothes, while people laughed around him. It made him feel lonely and different.
Still, he couldn't figure out why you were always at their house. Smurf wasn't good company, obviously, though she tolerated you just barely. Mostly because you kept to yourself. She knew you wouldn't blab to anyone about the Cody's jobs or that you never intended on going against her.
You were just there.
And no one complained, because you were like a fresh breath of air. You smiled and within two minutes you'd have J smiling too. You stayed around a lot, but never for too many days. If you went over, you were there for a long time, but the moment you disappeared, you were gone.
There seemed to be no specific reason for it. You seemed to be just overly concerned that you were being too much and bothering people. He knew you were a lonely girl, but he was also aware that your fear of being too much overpowered your grave sense of loneliness that you were never able to hide.
It was a bad habit of yours, always apologizing, even for existing seemingly. Craig had shot you numerous perplexed looks, never having heard this many sorry come from one person ever. But Pope knew he liked it, enjoying the fact that someone saw him as important enough to feel bad for him, that he was worthy enough to receive the sweetest girl's ever apologies.
Pope on the other hand, hated it. He hated the word sorry, and he especially hated it coming from you.
Whenever you apologized, whether it was accidentally brushing his arm while you were in the kitchen, or speaking, what you thought was, for too long, Pope would shut you down. And he'd always do it in a cold tone, knowing that was the most effective way to stop you completely from ever uttering that word around him again.
He knew his voice would startle you, not expecting Pope who was always kind to you, to speak to you that way.
His plan worked, and you started biting your lip hard the moment the word slipped out. You'd look up panicked, and that would usually be enough for him. He'd shot you a dry look, bored even. And you'd shake your head and mumble, 'I take that back.' and he'd drop the look immediately, resorting to his normal soft look that he always wore around you.
The word didn't completely disappear from your vocabulary, but now you uttered it almost never when he was around, and it made Pope feel less worried about being in your presence.
Everyone adored you and sometimes he hated it. It worried him that everyone felt the same adoration he did for you, that somehow you'd never pay attention to him. Given his brothers were much better at being affectionate, it made him feel like he was behind. Like it was a competition to be your favorite brother, and he was last, not even having started the run, because he didn't know how to. That the moment Craig brought you into the house and introduced you, a starter pistol went off, and everyone started running.
It didn't stop him from seeking you out all the time. Whenever the question 'Where's Pope? popped up, the answer was the same. With you. Always with you.
Mostly, because you followed him around. When he'd reject your offers to sit with you on the couch at parties, you'd get up and follow him.
There the two of you would stand somewhere and observe the party together, both with the same repulsed expression. For him, it was the dirt and the carelessness, for you it was the loudness of it all.
When you caught Pope in front of a dark TV, staring at himself in the reflection, you'd tap his shoulder softly. Just two taps, never wanting to overwhelm him. "My car's making weird sounds," you'd say softly, and he'd get up and help you.
Sometimes you'd tell him something was broken in your home, and he'd drive to your place without a word. You'd always try to drag out his stay, offering him cookies (because you were absolutely terrible at cooking) or offering sodas.
Sometimes, he'd catch you looking around the room nervously, looking for new problems he could fix. So he'd grumble out a "Sink sounded weird earlier," and you'd smile so wide, it was like the sun came out from behind the clouds.
Things like this made him doubt everything.
Maybe you didn't dislike him as much as he thought, maybe he did have the potential to be your favorite brother.
But then he'd watch you light up when Deran would tell you he finally figured out how to make your favorite mocktail. (Obviously, you never had to pay a cent. If not for Deran shaking his head as you handed him money, then it was Pope who paid for everything you ate and drank.)
Even Craig offered to teach you how to surf. The shy expression you always wore around Pope would disappear and your smile would be so radiant Pope wouldn't be able to look away, never having gotten the privilege to see such an open expression from you.
Things like these made Pope doubt everything, consider that maybe the shy expression was just your uncomfortable one, that when you needed help at home, it was simply because you needed help and nothing else.
He knew Deran and Craig were absolutely terrible at fixing things, and he feared that, just like everyone else, you too viewed him as a tool, something to use and throw away. That he was just waiting for the throw-away part, and that it was coming sooner or later.
But he couldn't help but have all his worries vanish into thin air, whenever you decided to grace him with your big thankful eyes and an even wider, dazzling smile.
The first time he felt like too much for you, so much he wanted to run away, was when you joined him in the garage.
You softly knocked against the doorway. "Andrew?" you always said his name so sweetly, it made him want to record it and listen to it like a lullaby until he fell asleep, which didn't happen much these days.
He looked up at you. "You're awake." He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. It was pitch dark outside, and he figured you were asleep in the living room.
You shook your head. "Couldn't sleep." you smiled softly, your eyes telling him to please drop it. He did, turning his head back to what he was working on.
You stepped closer, and he could smell the perfume that he loved so much. Before he knew it, you were towering over him, lightly brushing up against his shoulder. "What are you working on?" you titled your head, staring down at whatever it was you were looking at.
"Part of the car. Stopped working last night," he replied in a low voice, not raising his head, even though he really really wanted to see your pretty face.
You glanced around, spotted what you needed and sat down. You pulled the chair closer to him, setting your elbows on the table in the process. "Mind if I watch you?"
Pope glanced at you, and his eyes darted all over your face, trying to gauge what exactly the point here was. You seemed sincere, so he hummed.
You laid your cheek in your palm and watched him. Your big eyes stared at his hands with so much interest, they started to tremble a bit.
The silence between you was filled with the sound of an owl and the ticking of a broken clock somewhere in the garage.
Five minutes must've passed by now and Pope had never understood until now how silence could be nice even with someone else in it. It wasn't like he couldn't feel your presence. No. He knew you were here, but he enjoyed it. More than enjoy, he craved it. He wanted to stay in this little room forever, hearing nothing but your soft breaths and the sound of you tapping your foot restlessly on the floor.
He didn't hate the silence like when he did with Smurf, who sat with him in silence at breakfast and watched him eat.
No, he loved the feeling of your soft eyes watching him work, knowing he was good at what he did, and that you were admiring him.
"You're not tired?" you asked after a while, careful not to be too loud, not wanting to disturb his work.
"No." When Pope looked up, he met your eyes immediately, like you'd been watching his face rather than his eyes, and your lips lifted into a flustered smile.
Embarrassed, like you'd been caught. He wasn't sure what it was, but he almost felt the need to gloat about it. Sweetest girl he knew was caught staring at him.
Stupid.
He looked away again, almost in shame, because how dare he think that you were admiring him. You were sleepy and he was awake. That's it. Had Craig been out here, you probably would've joined him too. He was nothing special.
"S'nice watching you," You brushed a hand over your face, rubbing your eyes tired.
Pope looked up, because surely he'd misheard, but you shot him a sweet smile, soft hair falling over your shoulders as you rubbed your eyes, hard, again.
People couldn't even stand to utter his name, and you were telling him that he was nice to watch. Like his presence was worth acknowledging. Like it was something good, like his presence wasn't to be feared, like he didn't hear the rumors in town about how people feared the thought of him.
Horrible, awful Pope who hit and hurt people, who made a mess of people and things, of everything.
A kind girl like you liked to watch him in the middle of the night doing things that his brothers called weird, made them shake their heads as they looked away in disappointment and shame, wishing they'd had a normal brother, one more like them.
He must've stayed quiet for too long, because you froze. "Sorry, did—did I say something wrong?" nervously, you toyed with your heart necklace.
"No—No you didn't." Pope shook his head quickly, eyes darting back down to his car part. His fingers twitched nervously. "You should try to sleep." And he could sense he'd said the wrong thing, because your eyes widened for a second, and worry overtook your face.
"Oh—right, yeah you're right." Stumbling over your words nervously, you stood up, and Pope regretted it.
He hadn't meant this. He was just trying to tell you that he appreciated your kindness, but surely he wasn't that interesting. "I meant— it's not healthy to stay awake," he managed out, eyes darting back up to your face and back down. "It's not good for you." he managed out nervously.
You looked down at him, and you stood there for a bit, before sitting back down slowly, understanding he didn't want you to go. "Yeah— I know." You toyed with a bolt on the table, rolling it in between fingers before you looked back at Pope who was still watching you. "Craig keeps yelling in his room about his video game, and Smurfs still awake by the Pool." You dropped the bolt. "It's distracting."
"You can sleep in my room," Pope said, and given your reaction, it wasn't exactly something you expected him to say. But it made sense to him. "You can't hear Craig in there."
You stared at him, your eyes wide, making them bigger than they already were. "You want me to sleep in your room?"
Pope wasn't sure what was so confusing. It wasn't like his room was bad. Sure, it was a bit empty, but he took care of it, it was clean. He pushed the car part away, getting up from his chair. "I'll get you new bed sheets," and then he just walked out of the garage. You stood in the empty garage, mouth open, before you scrambled to follow him.
To your luck, Smurf was fast asleep, bottles of alcohol next to her, and you hurried to follow Pope. Inside, he led you to his room, grabbing clean bed sheets out of one of the closets in the hallway, before walking into his room.
You stood in the doorway watching Pope fix the bed for you. Were you dreaming? Was Pope actually fixing his bed for you?
You looked down and pinched your skin. "Ouch." you muttered to yourself. Not a dream, officially and definitely not a dream.
Pope turned his head to you. "You need pajamas?" he asked, but you shook your head.
You never took, unless you were outright suffering and Pope's eyes slowly darted down to the goosebumps across your skin, which were visible even with just two night lights on.
You were wearing a simple white lace tank top and California nights weren't exactly known for their heat. Even Smurf outside, was sleeping with at least two blankets. He turned, opened a drawer and grabbed a hoodie. When he handed it to you, you didn't take it.
"Is that yours?"
Pope nodded, almost worried. "I—You can have one of Deran's if you want."
"Nope, I—I'd like yours." you managed, grabbing the hoodie and letting it swallow you whole. It was warm, and it smelled nice, so very nice. You couldn't help the way your head just lowered a tiny bit, letting yourself smell how nice Pope's scent was.
Pope had already looked away the sight too much, and was now awkwardly staring down at the bed, fingers twitching nervously at his sides. "Okay, have— have a good night."
In all of your years of living, you'd never been this bold before. You weren't even sure what overcame you. Your hand reached out, and you grabbed Pope's bicep lightly before he walked past you.
You felt him freeze up, eyes locked onto your hand around his bicep, and you had to resist the urge to squeeze, to test how really hard and warm his bicep was. "Will—" you bit your lip, already regretting starting the sentence. "Don't you wanna sleep?"
"I have to work." His eyes flickered back down to your soft hands around his bicep.
You had pink polish on with brown polka dots. It was sweet. He'd seen you paint them once, you'd even helped Lena with hers. Lena had been so happy, and hadn't stopped talking about you the entire afternoon after you'd gone home. He had been glad to know that someone else felt about you the way he did.
You dropped your hand, disappointment flickering across your face. Pope's eyes darted around your face, noting how close you were but also how you were still trying to find your words. He waited.
"I'd like you to stay," you phrased it so sweetly, the way you always did, but for the first time you told him what you wanted. There was no if it's okay with you, you don't have to, no it's okay.
No, you straight up wanted something from him and God would he be stupid if he said no to you.
His eyes darted back to the bed and his eyes stayed there for a while, thinking. "I have to turn off the lights in the garage."
"I'll wait here!" You looked like you were about to start bouncing up and down from excitement.
Pope watched you for a second before turning and walking down the hallway, wondering what on earth led him to commit to this.
Meanwhile, you were in disbelief, palm to your mouth, as you muttered. "Oh my god. Oh my god." Oh my god, you were going to die. You glanced at the bed, deciding to get in now, before you were stuck in the awkward moment of having to argue with him about what side to take.
You pushed back Popes clean blue covers, slowly settling down in bed, and god was it was warm and soft. And it smelled nice.
You pulled the hoodie sleeves down over your wrists, nervously squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't believe he'd agreed to this.
Pope walked back slowly, boots thudding on the floor until he stood in the doorway looking at the top of your head. Not to seem like a creep, he didn't linger, quickly stepping in. He could feel your pretty eyes watching him as he grabbed a set of fresh boxers, shirt and a towel.
"Gonna take a shower, won't take long," he said, barely looking at you. The sight was too much for him to handle.
"Okay," you said softly, eyes following him until he was in his bathroom.
You passed the time by opening every drawer of his, checking out what he had in there. Barely anything. You sighed, Pope wasn't much of a talker, so you'd hoped you'd find out more about him in his room.
He wasn't joking when he said he wouldn't take long, because just as you were checking out his bottom drawer, he showed up. You shut the drawer with the loudest bang! possible before scrambling back into a horizontal position, embarrassed.
Pope's eyes darted down to the drawer before lifting to your embarrassed expression. He was more endeared than anything. Any other person and he would've gotten suspicious, but you were toying with his sheets nervously, avoiding his eyes, and he knew you'd just been curious.
He'd caught you walking around the house, staring at every picture more than once. He was more than aware of your curious nature.
He brushed a hand through his curls as he walked to his side of the bed, and you lifted the sheets for him.
You somehow managed to still surprise him with your small sweet gestures. He'd lived his whole life in Oceanside, and with his reputation, people had stopped granting him kindness, even as simple as receiving a thank you.
He felt so endlessly grateful that one person on this earth was able to be kind to him, that maybe he wasn't as evil as he thought, that there was a chance for him. That if someone like you looked at someone like him and thought he was worth it, worth spending your time and sweetness on, he might actually have a chance in life.
He slipped under the sheets, and you dropped them, making the warmth hit him all at once. He liked to sleep on his side looking at the wall, but it felt almost insane to miss out on seeing your pretty face all night, so he stayed on his back, view narrowing to the ceiling.
You, on the other hand, turned to your side, palm under your cheek. "Your bed's soft." You whispered, and he turned his head to you, eyes darting away shyly when he noticed your intense stare. He figured his bed was nice enough, almost relieved it was up to your standards. He'd been worried in the shower that you'd make some excuse, and he'd come out, looking like a wet puppy, to an empty bed.
"What?" he asked after he felt you stare for a little more.
"Your curls are nice," you whispered. "Always wanted to tell you that, but was too scared."
"Of me?" It just slipped out of Pope's mouth. He didn't want to know the answer to that question.
"What? No." Confusion was written all over your face, your lips curling into a frown. "I'm just— it's a weird thing to say. That's all."
Pope stared at you. Not scared of him. You weren't scared of him. ’S'not weird." He held your stare for a while until his nervousness overtook his entire body, leading him to glance away again, eyes focusing back on the white canvas above him.
"Thanks for dinner tonight."
Smurf hadn't been up for it for some reason and Deran or Craig didn't care, so Pope had made food just for you. You hadn't even told asked, and maybe that's why he made it, because he knew you never would.
He turned his head, happy you were giving him an excuse to look at you. "D'you like it?"
"Loved it." you smiled softly. "You could be a professional cook."
Pope's mouth almost lifted into a smile at that, but then you scooted closer, and he froze up. His arm, which had been resting on the side of the bed, almost touching your stomach now. You were so close, he could see how pretty your eyes were up close.
They had always been his favorite part about you. When Craig had first introduced you, Pope knew his brother had warned you about him, told you he was crazy and weird. His brothers did that with everyone they brought to the house, and their friends would always eye him weirdly, and he'd never be given the chance to show them that he was capable of kindness. That he could be as normal as they wanted him to be.
But you, you, had smiled, lifted your hand in a wave and looked at him in a way that no one had looked at him in years. Soft, kind, and open-minded.
He stared at you, and you stared back, and then you slowly lifted your hand.
"Can I—?" you whispered softly, and he was startled by the fact that you asked, so he nodded.
People never asked before they touched him. The only touches he received were involuntary ones from Smurf, or punches from his brothers and strangers. Never ones from sweet girls that asked before they settled their hand softly at his temple, toying with one of his curls.
The bottom half of your hand touched his cheekbones, and you brushed over his hair, thumb catching in a curl. He watched you, eyes big, before finally turning to his side, deciding that he'd make it easier for you.
He saw the smile you suppressed, absolutely delighted that he was so open to you touching him.
He took a second to absorb and analyze the expression. His hazel eyes darting all over your face, looking for any lie, that this was just a game to you. That maybe you'll look at him in the morning with pity in your eyes. But your eyes were glowing, and even with his insecurities choking him when he was with you, he could tell that no lie was in your eyes.
"They're wet," he provided you with the most unnecessary information, already wanting to smack himself for pointing out such an obvious thing.
You just hummed, too distracted to be touching his hair to focus on his awkwardness. You looped a curl around a finger, thumb brushing right above his eyebrow.
Your eyebrows were furrowed like you were studying his hair, but he knew you weren't as relaxed as you seemed. Your breath was going quicker, he could feel it against his face. He could smell your perfume, something floral and vanilla and felt the need to press his face into your hair and just stay there.
Your eyes traveled back to his face, and you observed him, before your hands went back down to his bicep. "You can relax," you whispered. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."
Pope stared at you, hazel eyes wide, never once leaving your face. "You have to sleep too."
"I will." Your hand already back in his curls. He let the feeling of your warm hands overtake every other feeling. Every sense of fear, insecurity and worry.
As much as he knew you wanted him to, he couldn't sleep. Whether it was because of his nightmares or because of you being here, he wasn't sure. His eyes continued to track your face, and it didn't take you long before you let your hand drift from his hair to his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheekbone one first and last time, before dropping it back in between you.
Your eyelashes fluttered lightly like a good night to him before you closed your eyes. Pope let himself watch you, let himself feel the phantom feeling of your hands. Your perfume continued to linger, and he wished his room would absorb it forever, that every time he walked in, he'd smell your perfume. He knew his bed would smell like you for at least the next couple of days now, and he hoped so desperately that the next time you came over to the house, you'd sleep in his bed.
Maybe next time he'd be the courageous one and ask you to stay.
When the flu hits the night shift nurses at PTMC, you agree to pull a double and work a night shift before your scheduled day shift. Robby decides to still sleep at your house that night. There’s no way that will lead to everyone finding out you’re in a secret relationship with the day shift attending - right?
Warnings/Notes: Secret relationship trope (duh) unspecified, but implied age gap. Slight scent kink. Mentions of smut (but no actual smut). VERY brief mention of pittfest (one line - for a backstory). Cannon typical mention of ([kid] patient) death(s). Slight season 2 spoiler - blink and you miss it. Michael Robinavitch is a goofball. Medical and hospital inaccuracies (all medical things I know are from two medical shows with one Noah Wyle and some Dr Google bullshit). Mention of garsantos. this idea came to me because ya girl only has peppermint body wash from Christmas 😂. Thanks to my night shift @atlaslapis for listening to this idea when it popped into my mind & being the best beta. I love you the most.
Michael sat at central trying to catch up on charting. It had been a hectic day in The Pitt. Everytime he turned around, someone else was saying his name.
“Dr. Robby, can I present to you?”
“Hey Dr. Robby, I need an extra set of hands.”
“Trauma ETA 5 minutes Dr. Robby.”
He didn’t want to be Dr. Robby anymore. He wanted to be Michael. And the one place he was Michael was in your arms.
“Hey, what’s the IV whisperer doing here?” Trinity asked as you walked in. Trinity quickly learned during the PittFest shooting that you could always find the veins for an IV - earning you the nickname IV whisperer. Most the staff had shortened it to IV.
Robby looked up. He swore it was your day off. Why are you walking into The Pitt?
Robby’s eyes met yours as you walked past him. A silent “I’ll tell you later” in your eyes, as you approached Dana.
“Ready to do hand off, brother?” Jack asked Robby, as he approached. The quickly turned his attention to you. “Thanks for coming in. I’m saving all the IVs for you.”
You laughed. “Yeah. Not a problem, Abbot.”
“Hey, IV, thanks for coming in,” Dana said as she patted you on the back. “Might have to stay myself if I can’t find anyone else to come in.”
“Who all on night shift is out?” You asked.
“The list of who isn’t out is shorter. Lena and Mateo. Vivi is going to work a double, she’s getting some Z’s in on call 1.”
“Not anymore I’m not,” Vivi said as she stretched and walked to you. “Hey IV.”
“Hey Vi,” you replied. The two of you had become close since she started working in The Pitt.
“Since we are finally working together you can tell me how that date went.”
You froze and closed your eyes. You felt like everyone around you stopped, and all eyes were on you. You were hoping she wouldn’t mention it in front of everyone, or at least in front of Trinity Santos.
“Date? You has a date?” Trinity asked.
“Yes,” you hissed.
“With who?”
“My boyfriend,” you said like it wasn’t a big deal. “First name none, last name of your business.”
“Oh! She got you!” Dennis said.
“You’re such a fucking huckleberry,” Trinity mumbled.
“Hey, a patient in triage needs an IV, and I can’t find a -“ Donnie didn’t have to finish his sentence before you were up and on your way.
You were throwing your gloves away in the trash, and using the sanitizer from the dispenser when you felt a hand ghost across your lower back. You turned to see Michael, walking backwards, motioning for you to follow him with his pointer finger, before turning down the hallway.
You followed, making sure to stay far enough behind that it didn’t look suspicious. You looked around at the hospital as you walked, looking into various rooms. Once at the lockers, Michael turned back to face you.
“Got rung into working tonight?” Robby asked.
“Yeah. Kim texted me about 2, asked if I could cover. Then Dana called and asked me. Then I tried to get a little sleep,” you sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry. I was just,” Michael sighed as he ran his hands over his face. “Today was shit. Lost a kid first thing this morning.”
“Oh, Michael,” you said as you reached up for him. You frowned as you looked at him. It was always the kids that hurt the most. You looked around to make sure no one was coming.
Michael caught on and he took you in his arms, as he buried his face in your neck. He inhaled taking in the scent of your peppermint body wash. “I was just looking forward to holding you. And smelling you.”
He started to pepper your neck with kisses.
You hummed at the pleasure, before you began trying to push him away. “Michael, stop.”
“Hmm, since when don’t you like the thrill of getting caught?” Michael asked as he pulled away.
You sighed. “Since Vivi asked how my date went in front of Trinity.”
“So. You’re saying if I place my bet now, I could win the betting pool,” Michael wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“I hate you,” you said as you laughed.
“Liar,” Michael said as he smiled at you. “You mind if I crash at yours tonight?”
“Of course, go ahead.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll pack you a bag. So you can stay at mine tomorrow, and our day off.”
“If I have the day off,” you mumbled as you yawned. “Sorry. I- I’m tired already.”
“I’ll send you money to DoorDash Dunks,” Michael said as he pulled out his phone.
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to.” Michael locked eyes with you as the two of you smiled at each other. “I love-“
“Brother, what are you still doing here?”
You both froze at the sound of Jack’s voice.
“I-“ Michael was trying to think of an excuse.
You looked at his phone in his hand. “M-Dr. Robby left his phone at central. I uh, brought it back to him,” you explained as you looked at Jack, and then back to Robby. “I should, uh, get back,” you said as you looked at Michael. A thousand unspoken words trying to beam through your eyes.
“Thanks for, uh, my phone. I will,” Michael cleared his throat, “see you in the morning,” he said as you turned to walk away.
“You know, she’s dating someone,” Jack said.
“Who is?” Michael said.
“IV. Apparently she had a date Saturday.”
“Did she now?” Michael asked with a smirk.
“Yeah, there’s a betting board.”
“Is there now?”
Jack studied the smirk still on his friends face. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Robby patted Jack on the shoulder as he walked past him to exit The Pitt. “See you in the morning, brother.”
A few hours later - you finally had time to DoorDash your iced coffee from Dunkin. You pulled out your phone and sent Michael a picture, and a text.
You: Thank you, handsome.
Michael🩺🫀: You are so beautiful, you know that?
You: Night shift and an iced coffee? Just call me Shen.
Michael 🩺🫀: Shen is the last person I want to think of when I think of you.
Followed by a selfie, his glasses on his nose, the latest book he was reading in his hands.
You: So, you want to think of other people when you think of me? Rude.
You: good book?
Michael🩺🫀: Would be better if you were in my arms while I read it.
Then, he replied to your previous message.
Michael🩺🫀: I’m ignoring this, by the way.
You: You’re ignoring me? 🥺
Michael🩺🫀: not what I said.
Michael🩺🫀: You know I love you.
You: I guess I love you too, handsome. Thanks for the coffee money.
Michael🩺🫀: of course. I’ll bring you another in the morning, Sweetheart.
You: Do you do this for all your nurses?
Michael🩺🫀: Just the ones I’m sleeping with.
Michael🩺🫀: That sounded sexier in my head..
You: I wish I was sleeping with you right now.
Michael🩺🫀: Me too. You have no idea how much I miss you, sweetheart.
You: you gonna show me how much you miss me🤭😉
Michael🩺🫀: Tomorrow. After shift. In my bed.
“Hey IV, Myrna is asking for you, and only you, to start her -“ Vivi started to say, when she noticed you smiling at your phone. “Who’s got you smiling like that? OHMYGOD is it your boyfriend?” Then she noticed your Dunkin “OHMYGOD did he buy you coffee?”
“Tell Myrna I will be right there and yes maybe he did.”
“Let me see him! Let me see him!” Vivi said as she reached for your phone.
“No!” You hissed slipping it in your pocket.
You walked up to central, and set your coffee down. You looked over at Myrna.
“I’ll be right there for the IV.”
You shot Michael a quick text.
You: I have to go - Myrna was just brought back. Wont let anyone else do the IV. Get some sleep? I love you, handsome. Thanks again for the coffee.
You shoved your phone in your pocket as you got back to work.
When Michael walked into The Pitt the next morning, he spotted you in the trauma room with Abbot. He couldn’t see the patient you were treating. But he could see the monitors - and you pushing what he assumed wasn’t the first round of Epi.
“They’ve been coding that kid for an hour,” Lena said, as she noticed Michael staring too long. “Ellis just went into check on them.”
“Think he’ll call it?”
The words weren’t all the way out of his mouth before the sound of metal on metal as Abbot kicked the trash can with his prosthetic.
“Looks like he did,” Lena said as she got back to work.
Jack walked up to Michael. “I’ve never been so glad to see you?”
“Rough shift?” Michael asked.
“Actually- just a bad last two hours. Rest of the night was typical. We had a 2 car MVA come in. 1 major 3 minor,” Jack started to explain. “Kid was one of the minors. In the back seat. IV checked him out with Ellis. He was fine. No bruising or swelling. Ultrasound didn’t show anything. 20 minutes later he was on the floor. Injury to the kidneys. Caused internal bleeding.” Jack shook his head at the memory.
“Hell of a way to end a shift,” Michael said drawing his attention back to you.
“Yeah. Can’t imagine being on for a double after this,” Jack said as he patted Robby on the back. Both men watched as you went inside the double doors and up the stairs leading to the rooftop. “Take care of her?”
“I always do,” Michael whispered, low enough so Jack didn’t catch it.
Michael watched those doors, waiting for you to come back. It had only been five minutes, but he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hey Robinavitch, are you listening?” Dana said bringing Michael back to current day.
“Uh, sorry, what?” Michael asked.
“I asked if you were going to start rounds,” Dana said.
“Give me 5. I need to uh, get some air first.”
“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a certain nurse would it? Who you happen to smell identical to?” Dana asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t start,” Michael said as he started to walk away.
Once you reached the roof, you sat on the side of the door, bringing your knees to your chest. The morning Pittsburgh air was cool. When you heard the doors to the roof open and close. You sighed. “I’m fine Abbot,” you said between the tears.
“It’s not Abbot, and you’re not fine.”
You looked up and tried to smile at Michael through the tears. “Hey,” you whispered.
“Abbot told me what happened,” Michael said as he sat next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”
You shook your head.
Michael nodded as he put his arm around you. “C’mere.”
You leaned into him. The minute you were in his arms - you lost it. Sobbing into his chest.
“Shh, let it out, I’m right here, sweetheart. I got you,” Michael said as he held you close, while rubbing a hand down your back and kissing your forehead. “You did everything you could.”
“I told him he was okay, then he died.”
Michael pulled away and cupped your face in his. “Hey. This isn’t on you. You did everything you could. Baby, this isn’t on you, sweetheart. You’re the best fucking nurse in this hospital.”
“You’re just saying that because we’re dating,” you mumbled.
“I’m saying it because it’s true. You’re the best fucking nurse in this hospital. Do you hear me?”
You nodded your head, as you leaned into hug him.
“Baby?”
“Hmm,” Michael responded.
“Did you use my body wash?”
Michael smirked. “Yeah. I uh, just missed you and wanted to smell like you.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a freak.”
“If I recall, you happen to like when I get freaky.” Michael wiggled his eyebrows.
“I fucking hate you,” you said as you laughed.
“I love you too,” Michael said with a smile. “Ready to go back down?”
You nodded, as you took Michael’s hand, intertwining your fingers together down the first few flights of stairs, and unhooking them the closer you got to The Pitt.
“Think Dana will let me get at least an hour in? I dunno if I can sleep without being cuddled next to you and the tv on, but I just want to-“
“Decompress?” Michael said, finishing your sentence.
You nodded.
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll cover for you with Dana. I’ll page you if we need ya.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, as Michael held the door open for you.
“Not a problem,” Michael said as he smiled and watched you walk away.
You don’t know how long you were asleep before you heard the door open and close. You soon felt a hand moving a stray hair into place.
“Sweetheart?” Michael whispered as you started to stir.
You slowly blinked your eyes open. “Hmmm. Hey handsome.”
“We got a triple MVA trauma coming in. We need - I need you out there.”
“No please? No kiss?” You asked as you stretched.
“Please,” Michael said as he bent down and gently pecked your lips.
“Only for you, Robinavitch.”
“Hm, they’ll be here in 5. We gotta go. Plus we can’t get caught.”
“It’s not getting caught if you were coming to wake me.”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck, “Someone in the hospital is winning the betting pool, the longer we’re gone-“
“-The more apt someone is to put two and two together,” you said finishing his sentence.
“Yeah,” Michael said as he stood at the door.
You met him at the door as he opened it for you. The two of you walked down the halls to the ambulance bay, and out the doors to await the arrival of the EMTs.
Your worked the trauma seamlessly with Michael - the two of you dancing around each other as you helped the patients. While working on a patient with Trinity, and Jessie, you had a hard time starting the IV.
“The tourniquet is too tight, I can’t get a vein,” you said as you went to fix it.
“Tourniquet is fine. I’m the one that put it on,” Trinity said. She rolled her eyes and walked over to assist you. “Maybe you slept too long.”
“What was that?” You snapped.
“Oh or maybe not long enough,” Trinity said with a laugh.
“It wasn’t that long,” you said as you rolled your eyes.
“Just saying. Robby left you alone longer than any one. I’d love to get almost two hours uninterrupted in the on call room,” Trinity said as you turned around and locked eyes with Michael.
Michael began walking towards the two of you, past Jessie.
“Does anyone smell peppermint?” Jessie asked.
“What are you implying Dr. Santos?” Michael asked, feeling defensive by her comment.
“Just saying,” Trinity said as she threw her arm up.
“IV is in,” you said, as Mel walked into the room.
“Need any help in here?” She asked.
“Check the belly, Yoyo will probably be in here soon to check if she needs surgery,” Michael said. He watched as Trinity’s eyes lit up.
You shook your head. “Girl-“
“Stop Miss secret boyfriend,” Trinity said.
“What do we got?” Yolanda said as she walked into the trauma room.
Mel ran the patients stats to Yolanda, adding the belly tenderness.
“Alright. Let’s get her up to surgery,” she said as they started moving the gurney out.
“Weird question but does anyone smell peppermint?” Mel asked as Michael walked past her.
“I just asked that,” Jessie said.
“Yeah it’s just the IV whisperer’s body wash. Apparently, she thinks it’s always Christmas,” Trinity said.
“Then why does Dr. Robby smell like peppermint?” Mel asked.
Michael dropped utensils tray he was taking care of, as the two you locked eyes with each other.
“Oh. My. God,” Trinity said, as you turned your head towards her.
“Don’t,” you said.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Trinity,” you were pleading with her - this wasn’t how you wanted everything to get out.
“You’re fu- your boyfriend is - oh no wonder you wouldn’t say who it was. Damn IV girl,” Trinity said as she patted you on the back.
“Both of you,” Michael said pointing to the door.
“What just happened?” Mel asked as Jessie shook his head.
“I can’t believe you two are dating,“ Trinity exclaimed loud enough for the whole ER to turn around.
Michael rubbed his eyebrows. “I brought you out here to ask you not to tell anyone yet.”
“Oh i figured,” Trinity said. “Oh man but wait until Vi finds out!”
“Trin, let me tell her,” you said.
“Too late.”.
Your phone began going off with a string of texts
Trinity✂️: ITS DR ROBBY
Trinity✂️: DR ROBBY IS HER BOYFRIEND.
Trinity✂️: 🚨
Vi✨: WHAT
Vi✨: GIRL YOU GOT EXPLAINING.
You: 🙊🤐 my lips are sealed.
You: Also - I hate you both.
Vi✨: love you too. This is definitely the topic of girls night next week!
Trinity✂️: ❤️ reacted to a message.
You put your phone back in your pocket and groaned.
“You good?” Michael asked.
You nodded. “Yeah just not how I wanted to tell them, or anyone.”
“I know. Me either. We have to tell HR. But I have some good news,” Michael said as he put his arm around you.
“What’s that?” You asked as you walked into the elevator to go disclose your relationship to HR.
“I won the bet,” Michael said with a smirk as the elevator door closed.
adrian never beating the lost puppy allegations cause judomaster watches silently, eating his hot cheetos as adrian follows on your heels as you pace around the checkmate office trying to read a file (that has nothing to do with adrian/vigilante but he’s there anyway, for “moral support” he says)
or harcourt sending you on a mission and asks if you’re bringing adrian along and there he is, popping out of now where, “well yea, she brings me along everywhere!”
or you tell ads about your weekend plans and she says, “with adrian right?” and again, suddenly he’s right behind you like, “duh! we spend every weekend together!”
or showing up to an 11th street kids party and when you knock on the door and chris answers he immediately scoffs, saying “wow i thought you’d show up with—“ and is immediately cut off by adrian yelling his name as he runs up the stairs of the porch, approaching the front door. “yea he was grabbing the beer out of the car,” you smile up at chris and he just rolls his eyes but smiles back.
or economos calling you instead of even bothering to call adrian. you’re both needed at checkmate and when you pick up he tells you, “hey you and adrian need to come in right now.” “how did you know i’m with adrian?” “what do you mean how did i know? he’s literally always with you. it’s like he would die from separation anxiety if he was away from you for more than like, an hour.” “that’s not true! we don’t spend that much time together.” “oh yeah? hasn’t he spent the night at your house for like, the past week?” “that’s only because we have a mario kart tournament going!” adrian pipes up from where he’s sitting right next you, listening to the whole conversation. john scoffs and shakes his head and just tells you two to hurry up and get to work. and of course no one is surprised when you show up together in adrian’s sebring, you haven’t driven yourself to work in weeks.
or bordeaux seeing adrian walk in with two drinks and she doesn’t even have to ask who the second one is for. he sprints by her making a bee line to your desk like he’s late to see you, like he can’t handle another second not being next to you. he plops down on top of your desk and hands the drink over to you and you take it with a smile and a “aw you always remember my drink order!” beaming over at him.
and somehow you still don’t know that he’s in love with you.
God imagine him in bed playing wordle early in the morning, mumbling under his breath about what it could be. He’s wearing his slutty glasses. Meanwhile your snuggled up next to him.
I have a thought/request. Bucky dating a girl with a rescue cat that is wary/afraid of men. She tells him about it the first time he comes over, and mentions dumping guys who didn’t respect her cats boundaries as a way to let Bucky know that if he messes with the cat he’s out the door.
Bucky is determined to get the cat to like him, but obviously on the cats terms. He doesn’t engage with the cat unless the cat engages first, he’ll leave treats/food out for the cat to show he’s not a threat. He even leaves a shirt at her place for the cat to get used to his scent.
Once Bucky finally wins the cat over he’s all triumphant like “look it’s my new best friend.”
Side note: I have a rescue cat, and he’s afraid of men.
You tell him before he ever even steps foot inside your apartment.
It’s not said lightly, not tucked into a joke or softened around the edges—it’s clear, firm, and entirely non-negotiable, delivered with your hand still on the doorknob and your body half-blocking the entrance like a final checkpoint.
“My cat doesn’t like men,” you say, watching him carefully. “Her name’s Clover. She’s a rescue. I don’t know everything that happened before I got her, but… she’s wary. She scares easy. And I don’t keep people around who don’t respect her boundaries.”
There’s a beat where most men would laugh it off, brush it aside, insist they’re “good with animals” like it’s something to prove. You’ve heard it all before. Watched them crouch too fast, reach too quick, push too hard—like affection is something they can demand instead of earn. You’ve ended things over it more than once.
But Bucky doesn’t laugh.
He doesn’t even move.
He just nods, serious in a way that makes your chest loosen slightly, like he understands the weight of what you’re saying without needing it spelled out.
“Her terms,” he says simply. “Not mine.”
You study him for another second, searching for any hint of dismissal, any crack in the sincerity—but there isn’t one. Just quiet understanding. Patience.
So you step aside and let him in.
Clover is already watching from across the room, tucked halfway behind the arm of the couch, eyes wide and unblinking. Her body is low, tense, ready to bolt if she needs to. Bucky notices her immediately, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. Doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t crouch or call out or even glance her way again after that first flicker of recognition.
He lets her exist without pressure.
And you notice that too.
Over the next few weeks, it becomes a quiet routine. Bucky comes over often, slipping easily into your space without ever trying to take it over, and Clover… watches. Always watches. From doorways, from under the table, from the back of the couch when she thinks neither of you can see her.
He never pushes.
Not once.
Instead, he does small things—things that would go unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He leaves a treat on the floor near wherever she’s hiding before settling on the couch, never looking at her while he does it. He sets out her dinner if you’re busy, placing the bowl down gently and then stepping away like it’s no big deal. He talks to you in that low, steady voice of his, letting the sound of it fill the room until it becomes familiar, predictable, safe.
Eventually, he starts leaving pieces of himself behind.
A jacket draped over the back of a chair. A shirt folded at the foot of your bed.
The first time you catch him doing it deliberately—watching as Clover creeps forward, sniffing cautiously at the fabric—you raise a brow.
“Bribing her?” you tease.
He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still on the small, hesitant movement of her nose against his sleeve. “Not bribing,” he murmurs. “Introducing.”
It takes time.
Longer than either of you expect, honestly. Weeks of quiet coexistence, of soft footsteps and careful distance. But then one night, something shifts.
You’re in the kitchen, rinsing dishes, when you hear it—the soft, surprised exhale from the living room.
You turn just in time to see it.
Clover, perched cautiously on the far end of the couch, and Bucky, sitting very still, his metal hand resting open on his knee while she leans forward to sniff his fingers. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly, doesn’t even blink as she edges closer, whiskers twitching.
And then—like the world tilting just slightly off its axis—she presses her head against his hand.
It’s brief. Tentative. But it’s contact.
Trust.
You stare, heart caught somewhere in your throat, because you know what that means. You know how much it takes for her to do that, how much fear she has to push through just to get there.
Bucky glances up at you slowly, like he’s afraid the moment might break if he moves too fast, and there’s something almost boyish in his expression—wide-eyed and disbelieving.
“Don’t—” you whisper, barely breathing. “Don’t scare her.”
“I’m not,” he whispers back, like he wouldn’t dare.
Clover pulls back after a second, retreating to a safer distance, but she doesn’t run. She stays. Watches him with something new in her gaze—curiosity instead of fear.
From that point on, it snowballs.
She starts sitting a little closer. Lingering longer. One night she hops onto the couch beside him, not touching, but near enough that it counts. Another time she lets him slide a treat across the cushion instead of the floor. And then, one evening, you walk into the room to find her curled up against his thigh like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Bucky looks… stunned.
And then, slowly, undeniably, triumphant.
He glances up at you with the smallest, most pleased grin tugging at his mouth, like he’s just accomplished something monumental.
“Look,” he says softly, careful not to disturb her. “It’s my new best friend.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you lean against the doorway, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of them—your guarded, fragile little Clover tucked safely against a man who never once tried to force her to trust him.
“You’re insufferable,” you murmur.
But you cross the room anyway, settling beside him, your hand brushing his arm.
And when Clover doesn’t flinch—doesn’t run, doesn’t hide, just stays right where she is—you realize something quietly, deeply important.
It was never about winning her over.
It was about proving he was safe.
And somehow, without ever rushing, without ever demanding, Bucky had done exactly that.
robby being soooo sickeningly sweet when you’re in pain and on your period… 18+ mdni, period sex, dacryphilia
──── ୨୧ ────
he’s furrowing his brows and cooing and spreading your legs apart so he can settle in between them…he’s shushing your embarrassed squeaks when he dips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties…tells you it's all gonna be okay and that he loves you like this so much
'shit...love how wet you get for me baby, it's okay, it's okay,' he soothes your embarrassed whine. 'soak me as much as you need, don't worry baby' you listen, writhing as his thumb rubs your clit.
'mikey' you whine, tears shining at the sensitivity, both physically and emotionally. he circles your entrance with the tip of his index finger, thrusting the first little bit in and out, in and out.
you throw your head back, stomping your feet on the bed as you whine. he swats the inside of your thigh with his palm, driving his index finger in further, and you squeal.
'stop being a bad girl' he growls, and the tears spill over your lash line.
'shh, i know, i know,' he whispers as he thrusts two fingers into you. the intrusion is rough at first against your sensitive insides, but soon you're whining and squeezing your thighs together, his hand sandwiched between.
you feel the mix of your wetness flow beneath you, collecting on the bed. you blink your teary gaze down to where it pools below you, and you wince at the red seeping into his white sheets.
more tears fall anew, your bottom lip jutting out in a desperate pout. he mirrors you, his lips mocking yours in a way that pushes more tears out. you sniffle, grinding your hips against his hand.
'you're so pretty like this' he whispers, 'so pretty, want you to come all over me, wanna take the pain away. can you do that?'
you whimper and nod, the knot in your stomach tightening until you're pushed over the edge.
your release is all soft praises and sweet kisses, him shushing you and holding you close to him. the release alleviates the tension in your lower belly, the pain that had you in bed for most of the day.
he pops you in the bath while he changes the sheets, patting you dry and tucking you in to sleep off the rest of the cramps.
thinking about size difference with dr. robby makes me dizzy...
like his big hands curving around the dip in your waist, his palm warm at the small of your back as he dips his head to talk to you. he doesn't have to stand so close but the ambulance bay can get chilly and he feels like a furnace. his crow's feet never evens out around you, his soft stomach gently pressing against you when he closes the distance so he can hear you respond. "say again, sweetheart?" he'd murmur, his gravelly tone cutting through the occasional siren that blares a few paces away. you'd answer as professional as you can but your mind is dizzy, his scruffy beard ghosting along your temple as he still has to slightly bend over just to murmur in your ear. and maybe his hand is sitting comfortably around your waist, knobby knuckles casually curling to tug up your scrub top to greedily coast along your warm skin.
