a collection of fics i’ve read and thoroughly enjoyed all in one spot! read each warning before diving in and please give writers some appreciation for all their hard work by reblogging and/or commenting! ꨄ
Summary: You and Jack Abbot have been sneaking around together for months. Both of you know it’s wrong. You’re a resident, and he’s your attending, but you can’t find it in yourselves to stop.
Until one day, Robby catches you and Jack making out in an empty room. Robby doesn’t yell, doesn’t scream. All he does is pull Jack aside for a word.
You don’t see Jack for a while after this, but when he sees you again he’s different. Cold and detached.
Then he does the worst thing he could: he breaks things off with you on the car ride home.
Word count: 4324
Warnings: angst!! This one hurts. It’s basically just how Jack Abbot would break up with you.
Note: Reader is named Reid.
You followed Abbot through the automated front doors, stepping out into the cool morning air. It had been too long since you’d last felt fresh air on your face, in your lungs, and you reveled in it. Your night shift had been long, but you’d had Jack there with you to make it a little more bearable.
You took a moment, letting the sun land on your cold skin.
Abbot clearly heard the halt in your movements and threw a look at you over his shoulder.
“You comin’?”
You snapped yourself out of your daze.
“Right. Yeah. Of course. It’s just-” you began, about to explain how ever since you were a kid, you always enjoyed being outside. Especially after a long hospital stay, when he interrupted you before you could say another word.
“Keep up then.”
Your words died in your throat.
Abbot unlocked his truck from a few feet away, the headlights flashing with a small sound.
He walked towards the passenger side, reaching for the door handle when he stopped himself. His hand dropped before it could make contact, and he moved to the drivers side as if thinking better of whatever he’d been about to do.
You couldn’t help the way your heart stuttered in your chest. You weren’t sure why the small gesture hurt so much.
For months he’d opened the passenger door for you, never once letting you open the door yourself. You always thought it was cheesy, but you secretly loved it.
Instead, you opened the passenger door yourself and climbed inside the truck.
The interior of the truck smelled exactly as it had when you’d been in the dozens of times before. Leather and his cologne. Like him.
Except now the smell felt anxiety inducing instead of comforting.
Abbot climbed into the driver's side and shut the door a tad harder than necessary. As he started the engine, the radio came on.
“-keep it one hundred on the land, the sea, the sky-”
He reached over and switched the radio off, leaving you in silence.
Abbot backed out of the parking space, one hand resting on the back of your headrest as he navigated behind him. Your traitorous belly erupted with butterflies as he used one hand to reverse out of the tight space.
Once he was out though, he quickly dropped his hand, as if remembering you were there.
He made his way out of the parking lot, and you could feel how tense you were. Your knees were locked together, your hands in your lap as your heart pounded.
Still, he said nothing. He didn’t reach for your thigh. He didn’t call you sweetheart. Didn’t joke about being a taxi service.
You shifted in your seat and noticed just how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel.
“Where am I going?” He asked after a moment.
“What?”
“Your place. Where do you live?” He didn’t even look at you.
Because you always went to his place.
He didn’t even know where you lived.
You quickly gave him your address and he gave a small nod, eyes firmly on the road.
“Do you know where that is or do you want me to direct-” you started to ask.
“I know where it is.” He cut you off.
“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say.
You turned away from him, choosing to watch out the window. You watched the passing streets, the people on their way to work, the people out for jogs, the people completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.
Robby had caught you and Jack in an empty patient room earlier, your hands all over each other. It was a terribly compromising position. You’d been sitting on the bed, Jack’s hand on your stomach, fingers making their way beneath your waistband. You’d been begging and pleading for him to touch you, and Jack had been all too happy to oblige you.
Robby had just happened to walk in at the exact moment Jack’s other hand had squeezed your nipple between two of his fingers, resulting in a loud moan from you.
Robby hadn’t screamed, hadn’t yelled. His eyes had widened to saucers and had just simply said, “Doctor Abbot. A word.”
Jack had followed him out after a longing look back towards you.
You knew you were in trouble. Big trouble. You were a resident. He was an attending.
So when you hadn’t seen Jack for another few hours, you’d grown nauseatingly anxious.
Then, he’d shown up at changeover time, seemingly ready to take you back to his apartment like he usually did. Ever since that night in the stairwell a few months ago, it had become a regular thing. After shift was over, Jack would drive you back to his apartment to sleep and shower and eat. And fuck. But you considered it more love making. Jack was a slow and gentle lover, always making sure you were safe and comfortable. You loved that about him.
But now he was cold and angry in the seat next to you. He was different. He was driving you to your place, not his. He wasn’t joking or teasing. No, he was distant. Robby’s chat must have really done a number on him.
You fiddled with your hands in your lap, anything to distract yourself from the silence.
You looked back over at him, unable to help yourself, catching sight of his hands on the wheel.
His grip was so tight, his knuckles stark white. You couldn’t believe those were the same hands that he used during intubations, resetting bones, suturing skin.
They were also the same hands that had been all over your body only hours earlier.
You cleared your throat.
You had to know.
You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to know why he was being so standoffish.
“Is this… about Robby?” You asked.
He didn’t answer, so you tried again.
“Did he…say something?”
“Yeah.” One word. That’s all you got from him.
Silence.
You broke it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He said firmly.
“Don’t what?” You asked. You had so much to apologize for. So much to atone for.
“Just…don’t.” Two word answer. Jeez, he was on fire today.
“Don’t what? Apologize? You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.” You shot back.
“I don't need to know, because you’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” His words were cold and even.
“But I do-”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I did.” His voice was firm.
“You didn’t-” you fought.
“I did.” He cut you off.
“Then why are you… treating me like this? If I…did nothing wrong?” You asked, your voice quiet.
His head snapped to yours, his eyes full of such deep pain, and regret, and longing, you felt sick.
He knew he’d hurt you. He knew. And he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.
“Did Robby say something about me? Is this about Whitaker?” You asked, your insecurities rearing its ugly head.
“Of course not.” He whispered, and for some reason, you believed him about Whitaker, but not Robby.
He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something else, but he closed his mouth and turned back to the road.
You turned your own eyes back to the road, blinking away the emotion you could feel brewing in your eyes.
God, you were so stupid.
How could he make you feel like this? You’d known the guy what? Half a year? And you were already ready to cry over him.
You needed to get it together.
Your gaze once again landed back on him as he changed lanes, the quiet tick, tick, tick of the indicator filling the silence.
His face was drawn, his jaw tight, his beautiful eyes shadowed. The lines around his eyes were more prominent, and you had the strangest urge to trace them.
He looked so very tired. So very tired it went beneath the surface. Like a bone deep exhaustion.
“Are you- are you going home after this?” You asked dumbly.
“Yeah.”
“You gonna get some sleep?” You asked. You couldn’t help it. You were concerned for him, even if he didn’t feel the same about you.
“I’ll try.” Even his voice sounded tired.
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” You tried for a joking tone.
“I’m not trying to be.” He said flatly.
Silence.
You felt like your chest was caving in on itself.
You took a deep breath, readying for the next question. You had to poke the bear. You just had to know. You couldn’t avoid it. You had to dig and dig until you found out exactly what Robby said to have him acting like this.
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened between you and Robby?” You asked flat out.
His grip on the steering wheel became impossibly tighter.
“What are you talking about?” He played dumb.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“I know he probably lectured you, probably even yelled at you,” your words were soft.
He huffed a laugh out of his nose.
“That’s what you think he did?” He asked, glancing over at you.
“I know you’re different.”
He swallowed, his throat bobbing.
“You’re not…you’re not my Jack.”
You inhaled a sharp breath at what you’d revealed, and his head snapped to yours.
“Your Jack?” His voice was loud, almost panicked.
“I just- I just mean-”
Abbot shook his head. “This is exactly what Robby warned me about.”
What?
What could Robby have possibly warned him about?
“What did you just say?” You spat.
He let out a sigh. “Robby was just doing his job.”
“Jack-“
“Abbot. I’m Doctor Abbot to you. Your attending.” He cut you off harshly.
His words felt like a gut punch. Actually a gut punch would have hurt less.
“He was right. He told me exactly what I needed to hear.” He continued.
You took a breath, needing a moment.
“What did he…what did he say?” You almost didn’t want the answer.
He shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters if it’s the reason you’re acting like this! I’ve never see you so- so-” you were growing angry now.
“So what? So what, Reid?” His words were cruel.
“So cold! So mean! So detached! It’s not you, Jack!”
He chuckled without any humor. “How would you know what I am? You’ve known me a few months.”
“How could you say that after all that we’ve been through?” Your words came out quieter than you’d wanted.
He let out a shaky sigh.
“It doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t get into this now anyway. Not when we’re both this tired.” He sighed, the anger leaving him, replaced with pure pain.
“Being tired is no excuse for you to not tell me what Robby said.”
“It’s the only excuse I’ve got to give right now.” He said dejectedly.
Another beat of silence. You’d now stopped at a red light, completely at a standstill. His hands remained gripping the wheel.
“Why won’t you tell me what he said?” You asked softly.
“Because it’s not something you should hear.”
“Try me.”
What did Robby say to him? With the way Abbot turned to look at you then, you would have thought Robby gutted him. He finally -finally- turned to face you, the glow of the red light warming his cheek.
“He told me to…think about how this would look from the outside. What everyone else would think. About you.”
Your heart broke.
He was doing this for you.
To look after you and your career and reputation.
Your hand reached up and landed on his cheek. He leaned into the touch as if he couldn’t help it. Your thumb smoothed at the lines around his eyes.
A loud honking from behind you scared you enough that you jerked your hand back. You turned back to the road, seeing that the light was now green.
Abbot shook his head, eyes moving back to the road. He pressed his lips into a firm line, as if recalibrating himself to be cold and detached again.
“He reminded me that you deserve better. Better than some old man with nothing to offer you.”
You tried to plant your hand on his arm but he shook you off. The gesture hurt, but you said nothing.
“I don’t want anyone better.” You whispered. “To me, there is no better,”
He chuckled harshly. “Don’t. Don't lie to make me feel better. I know how this looks. Me, an old man, and you- you’re gorgeous, and you’re young and you’re too trusting. You’re so goddamn smart and you’re unbelievably kind. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me holding you back.”
“Ja-”
“Abbot.” He reminded you.
You swallowed. “Abbot, please. Please don’t shut me out just because of something Robby said.”
“Re-“ he started.
“No. No, you listen to me, Abbot. You don’t get to just decide this. Yes, you’re older than me, but I don’t care about that. It doesn’t matter how smart or kind I am, when I feel this way about you. You don’t get to tell me how I feel because of how it looks.” You knew you were laying your heart at his feet, but you didn’t care. You trusted him.
Then he said the worst thing he could have possibly said in that moment.
“What happened these last few months have been a mistake. It won’t happen again. It can’t.”
It would have hurt less if he’d sucker punched you.
“Please.” You begged.
You didn’t know what you were begging for. Begging him to stop? Begging him to stay? Begging him to take that back?
“Don’t shut me out. Please.” You knew you sounded pathetic, but it felt like he’d ripped open your chest.
“Stop.” His voice was soft.
“Please, Abbot, I need you.” It was words you’d said to him before. Under very different circumstances.
“Don’t. Don’t beg.” His words cut through you like a knife.
And oh, how the memories assaulted you then. Of him telling you over and over that you didn’t need to beg him.
You went silent then. You couldn’t find the strength to speak. Not when he’d torn your heart out.
The truck stopped at another red light.
You once again played with your fingers in your lap, a nervous habit.
He took in a deep breath.
“I crossed a line.” He admitted.
Now it was your turn to not answer.
“I crossed a line. What I did with you was wrong.” He continued.
“You don’t get to decide that.” You snapped, tone harsher than you’d meant.
“Actually, I do, sw- Reid. I’m your attending for Christ's sake! What we- what I have been doing with you is wrong.” He sounded defeated.
You glanced over at him again. His shoulders were hunched in on themselves. Like he was trying to protect himself from what was to come.
He looked as defeated as he sounded, like he was fighting some inner war where he was his only opponent.
Jack Abbot. The flirty attending who winked and laughed with you, the man who had survived losing his wife and his leg, was gone.
Replacing him was a man who looked like your very presence was physically paining him.
“I don’t think you crossed a line.” You said after a moment, the light turning green and the truck moving forward.
Then he said as quiet as a whisper, “It doesn’t matter what you think.”
“You think that just because you’re what? A man? Older? My attending? That you just get to tell me what does and doesn’t matter to me?” You snapped at him.
He didn't answer. He just looked…sad.
“I should have stopped it.” He finally admitted.
“You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do.”
“That’s what you think.” He didn't meet your gaze as he spoke.
Your head reeled back as your eyebrows furrowed.
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you trying to say that you forced yourself on me?” You sputtered.
“It means-“ he paused, “It means that there’s different power dynamics between us.”
”Are you trying to say that you- you took advantage of me?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“In a way-“ he tried to speak, but you wouldn’t let him.
“Oh, shut up! Why the hell would you even say something like that! Are you serious-“ your words had begun to get loud, angry tears blooming in your eyes.
“I'm responsible for you!” He interrupted, finally meeting your eyes.
“I don’t need you to be responsible for me! I’m a grown woman, Abbot! Stop trying to imply that I’m this naive girl that's unable to resist your charms! I’m my own person and I chose to do what I did with you because I- I really like you! You absolute ass!” You yelled.
“I’m not- I’m not trying to say that! I’m just trying to say that there’s a power imbalance and-“
“Stop, Abbot. Just stop.”
He stopped speaking.
The silence was painful.
“It’s the next left.” You said after a moment, directing him.
He just nodded, hitting the indicator, making the truck fill with the sound of the little tick, tick, tick.
The silence seemed to press in, feeling dark and oppressive.
“You know what? You can just let me out here. It’s not far.” You said coldly.
He turned to look at you then. You ignored him.
“Reid-“
“Let me out, Doctor Abbot.” You said bitterly.
You couldn’t stand to be with him in the truck a second longer. How could he assume you were just this naive, swooning girl that was just falling for his charms, unable to resist him? Who did he think he was? Who did he think you were? He clearly didn't know you well.
You felt your eyes welling with tears, and you didn't want to let him see you cry. You were stronger than that.
“It’s only half a block, I’m happy to drive you-” he kept shooting nervous glances your way.
“Goddamn it! Let me out!” You turned on him. “Before I throw myself out of this damn car!”
He quickly pulled over, putting the car in park.
“Reid, don’t do this.” He pleaded.
Who was begging now?
But you weren’t listening. There was only so much you could take. Only so many blows to your pride you could take.
So far, in this car ride, he’d implied you were unable to think for yourself, too distracted by his flashy job to see sense, too young and naive to want someone like him, and too immature to be able to handle whatever Robby had told him.
You simply couldn’t take it anymore.
You grabbed your things and gripped the door handle.
“Reid, please.”
You turned back around, finding his pleading hazel eyes focused solely on you. God, he was pretty.
He reared back, surprised you’d turned back around.
You squashed his hope that you'd stay quickly though.
“Just so you know, Doctor Abbot, I never felt influenced by your power. Not by your job, or the way you’re my boss, or the way you order everyone around.”
He didn’t respond, but the pain in his eyes increased.
“Not once.” You sneered.
He said nothing.
“I wanted to kiss you. Long before that time in the stairwell.” You snapped.
He still was silent.
“I wanted what happened in that patient room all those months ago. I wanted what happened in your apartment. I wanted to be with you. I just- I wanted you, Jack. I wanted you. Not your power or your job or whatever the fuck you think I wanted. God, I can’t believe you think that little of me.” You could see the way your words physically gutted him.
“I-“ he finally opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.
“No. I’m not going to have you hurt me or humiliate me again by insulting me.” You cut him off.
He closed his mouth. You hated how much pain was etched into his beautiful features.
You turned back around, opening your car door and stepping out. The morning air was cold and brisk, and you slammed the truck door far harder than was necessary.
You began to walk away, your head a mess of swirling thoughts.
How could he say those things to you? How could he be so cruel? Furious tears made their way down your cheeks but you fought them off, your hands wiping madly at your cheeks.
God, you would have never thought that your first six months of residency would end like this.
You were so lost in your own head that you barely registered that his truck was following along the side of the road, moving slowly.
You did a double take as you noticed he still hadn't driven off.
He had wound the passenger side window down, glancing between you and the road.
“Go away!” You yelled at him.
Your city street was quiet at this time of the morning, and your empty street echoed with the sound of your voice.
“I’m sorry!” He yelled out the passenger side window.
“Oh yeah? For what? You’re just sorry Robby caught you and yelled at you! Go home, Abbot!” You knew you sounded pathetic, yelling at each other through an open car window on a quiet Pittsburgh street at seven thirty in the morning.
“I just- I need you to know that I’m doing this for you. It’s for your own good!”
You ignored him, walking faster to your apartment.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Reid!”
“Watch me!” You yelled, flipping him off.
“We work together!”
”Yeah, where you’re my irresistibly charming boss! And I’m just some stupid, dumb girl who can’t stay away from your fancy job and all its power!” You mocked, your tone all sarcasm.
Your neighbours were getting a real show today.
“I’m protecting you!”
”No you’re not! You’re punishing yourself! And me!”
“Reid, just stop! Please!” At his pleading tone, you stopped walking so fast and he stopped his truck in the middle of the road.
You turned to face him, arms crossed, face hot, tears streaking. “What?”
His voice was softer now. “I can’t- I can’t be the reason that your career ends before it even starts. You’re too smart for that. You have too much potential.”
Your jaw clenched.
He had a point. Robby could have easily ended your career today. You remembered the panic of that moment when he caught you.
“What if no one finds out?” You asked.
He shook his head sadly. “Somebody always finds out.”
Another beat of silence.
You let out a humourless laugh. “So this is it? We’re just back to being resident and attending in forty eight hours?”
That was when both of your next shifts started, but you knew the both of you would be called in earlier.
He looked like he was in agony. “It’s the only way.”
Right.
More tears streamed down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away with the backs of your hand.
“Yeah. You’re right.” You said, nodding.
He looked like he hadn't expected you to agree. He looked disappointed that you hadn’t fought him.
The truck hummed in the middle of the street.
Both of you just stared at each other.
You took a breath that was actually more of a sniffle.
“I guess I’ll see you in two days.” You told him.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He bit his bottom lip, like he wanted to say more.
And for some reason, you suddenly got the strangest feeling. You missed him. You missed Jack. You missed the man that flirted and smiled and comforted you. The one who you shared all your secrets with.
This man wasn’t him. He was a stranger to you. This man was cold and detached.
“Abbot?”
“Yeah?”
You stared into his face, the most profound sense of longing hitting you square in the chest.
You wanted to say so many things.
Please don’t shut me out.
I’m sorry.
I don’t regret a thing.
I miss you.
But you didn't say any of those things.
Instead you just said, “Thank you…for the ride home.”
His face fell slightly as he nodded. “I’m sorry it wasn’t to your front door.”
You glanced over your shoulder, at your apartment building a few yards away. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”
He nodded, his throat bobbing.
You moved closer to his truck. You couldn’t help it. You wanted to be closer to him. You never wanted to leave him.
“Try to get some sleep, okay?” You told him.
He nodded again. “I’ll try.”
You knew what that was code for. He wouldn’t be sleeping a wink.
Then you finally turned, heading to your apartment building.
You made your way into the lobby, not looking back once. You didn't trust yourself not to go running back, pleading and apologizing.
You made your way into your elevator, your mind running a million miles a minute as your face felt hot and puffy.
You finally made it to your apartment, opening the door, the place silent and cold. Empty and devoid of life.
You don’t know what compelled you to do it, but you walked over to your window.
His truck was still there. Still stalled in the middle of the road. He hadn't moved an inch from where’d you'd left him.
You looked down at the truck, at the shadow you could see in the driver's seat.
Your heart clenched painfully.
You could only lift your hand in a small wave, the gesture awkward and stiff.
You watched as his headlights flashed just once, before he drove off into the cold morning.
And he was gone.
——————
A/N: this one hurt!! Poor Jack thinks he’s doing it FOR YOU.
a/n: this is my first fic so I’m super nervous please don’t judge me. It also might be formatted weird bc I’m posting this from my phone. Not beta read
word count: 7.9k
tw: talks of depression, reader takes meds for it
summary: in which Robby can’t let it go that his favorite sunshiney nurse is not herself
You know you’re supposed to take your meds. You’re a nurse for Christsakes. You know the importance of medication compliance and the accidental withdrawals that can occur when stopping an SSRI cold turkey, but you’ve been busy. At the end of each twelve hour shift you’re so focused on getting home and getting into bed that you’ve forgotten for the past three days to pick up the prescription and you’ve been out of it for the same number of days. The first day you were drowsy, headache, irritable, but it has progressively worsened by day three.
You’re hoping nobody notices the brain fog, the fact that for the first four hours of the shift you’ve felt like you’re trying to walk through jello. That your thoughts are hard to organize and every so often the brain zaps make you flinch. You just try to keep working, fighting through the fact that you want to crumple onto the floor. You fucking hate that you’re dependent on a pill to fix your brain chemistry to keep your brain from fighting itself and bringing in those deep lows that forced you onto the medication in the first place.
You know that this is the last day that you can pick up the meds before the pharmacy puts them back and you have to reorder. You know that any longer off of them is going to push you towards a depressive episode that can destroy the progress you’ve made since your diagnosis. If you’re not slipping into one already. The fun thing with depression is that it is a balancing act, you have to do the things that fill your cup, that make your days easier, even when your brain tells you over and over that you’re tired. That you just need to go lay down instead, avoiding your responsibilities just feels so much better than taking care of it.. And it does over and over until your life feels unmanageable. Then it takes days and sometimes help from your friends to get back to where you need to be. So yeah, you have to pick up the medication tonight. You really hate yourself for blowing off the trip to the pharmacy all last week.
What you don’t know is that Robby has noticed that something’s wrong with you. He’s seen you stop and throw back a couple tylenol and also seen you bang two energy drinks back to back in the first hour of your shift. He’s also noticed the short pauses where you flinch and then go back to what you’re doing like you’re being silently attacked. But what sealed the deal was when you came to update him on one of his patients but looked confused as you fumbled over the words you spoke as if you were fighting with your mouth to say the right thing.
“Santos,” he calls out to the resident as she sweeps by, she tops in her tracks and pivots to face him. Her dark ponytail bobs side to side.
“Yes, Dr. Robby?” he sighs and steps closer to her, bends down so the whole department doesn’t hear what he’s about to ask.
Quietly he says, “Is something wrong with Sunshine?” Santos’s thin eyebrows shoot up and she scrambles for a second to decide what to say and wonders why he’s even asking her. You’re normally glued to his side throughout the day, so the change is a shock even to her.
“Um no… I dont think so, why?” Maybe he knows something that she doesn’t. She knows that you’ve been quiet all day, but thats about it.
“Nothing,” he straightens up, pulls at each end of the stethoscope around his neck, and then he’s off towards the next resident calling his name.
The lights in the ER are killing you and you have a headache pressing down on your skull, but you’re going through the motions. Checking vitals, starting IVs, charting. You’re used to the ebb and flow of the ER enough that no one else has noticed that you’re off your game. At least, you think. There’s enough of a lull that you can catch your break, so you pop out of the ambulance bay and park yourself along the brick wall of the building. The sun feels good on your face and you hope that it will start to lift some of the heaviness. You’ve taken two rips off of your vape before a voice breaks through your moment of peace.
“You alright, sunshine?” Your eyes pop open to see Dr. Robby standing close, hands on his hips, staring down at you with those inquisitive dark eyes. Despite working side by side with him for a few years, your pulse spikes as it usually does when Robby is giving you his full attention. You push the ends of your mouth up into a tight lipped smile and hope to god that it looks believable.
“Just fine Dr. Robby,” but he can see the tiredness in your eyes and he doesn’t miss the way you shift like you’re losing balance.
“Go ahead and try that again, Sunshine. You alright?” Your tired eyes meet his dark ones that shine with concern. You school your expression and hope he takes you seriously this time.
“Fine, Dr. Robby. Tired.” His expression goes flat.
“Sunshine, I’ve seen you tired, this is more than tired. You’re on the fast track for a cardiac event between the two monsters that I saw you slam as soon as you got here, and you were sucking on that flavored air stick like it is oxygen. We’ll circle back to how bad that is for you, by the way.” He’s shifted closer to you, hands on his hips, voice starting to sound less like Dr. Robby and more like Chief Attending.
Shit, you think. You’re going to get sent home. You don’t want that. You think of the hours that you’d spend sitting in your apartment in the dark watching reruns of old sitcoms. You’re pretty sure that if it was possible you’d have melted into your couch by now. Even if you muster up the energy to get to the pharmacy to pick up your meds, you’ll just be at home with nothing to keep your mind busy, just rotting away. You’ve barely been able to sleep the past couple days, just lay there tired staring blankly at the tv.
You can’t help it, you bring the vape back up to your lips and drag in the peach berry flavor. Good old emotional support flavored air. Robby’s eye twitches. You maintain eye contact, now scared to exhale. Robby does one of those long suffering sighs of his like the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. And, in the pitt, it really does. He shouldn’t be out here with you like this. He should be keeping an eye on his department, his nurses, students, and patients. Not babysitting you while you’re dealing with the consequences of not taking your medicine.
You exhale through your nose and his eye twitches yet again at the sight of the smoke leaving your lungs. You stick the vape right back in your pocket, lest you panic and do it again.
“Robby, I swear I’m fine, just feeling a little off. Nothing I can’t handle,” You tell him, “You should go, you have a department to run. I’ll be back in, in a minute.”
Your moment is interrupted by the sound of an ambulance pulling up and coming to a stop right behind you two. You’re both moving instinctually towards the vehicle as the EMTs jump out and bring along a patient on a gurney. They rattle off the patient’s stats and you and Robby grab the side of the gurney and follow them in. Back to the shit show. As the patient is rushed into the trauma room the interns and additional nurses flock to the room, you’re able to slip away unnoticed, or so you think. The eagle eyes of the chief attending follow the messy bun on the top of your head as you slip back into the bustle of the ER.
Hour seven of your shift creeps up, you still have a headache, but you think the brain zaps might have subsided. Dana loops her arm through yours and swings you around into her station on your way by her. “Wanna tell me why Robby is watching you like a hawk?” She cocks an eyebrow.
“I dunno,” You feign ignorance, “Do I have something on my face?” She smirks and rolls her eyes.
“Alright, Sunshine, I’ll act like I believe you don’t know something,” then she grabs your hand and slips a couple more tylenol into your palm, “Pick up your meds when you get off. You know why you feel like shit.” You give her a small smile. There’s nothing that gets past Dana. It helps that she’s the only one in the department that knows about the medication. No one would judge you, you know that, but you don’t want to wear your diagnosis like a nametag, so you keep it to yourself. Dana only knows because the pills fell out of your locker one day. You quit keeping them in your bag after that.
Hour seven is usually when you start to drag, so you head to the breakroom to grab your last energy drink that you stashed when you came in. Your fingers close around the cool metal of the can in the fridge, when Robby’s voice cuts through the quiet and scares you back into standing. “Dr. Robby,” You crack the can and take a sip of your favorite energy drink flavor.
“Still hoping for that cardiac event are we?” You shrug.
“Isn’t even the most I’ve had in a day, Dr. Robby. This is just my baseline,” you take another sip and force yourself to meet his too perceptive eyes. He gives you a look like you’re killing him, but you just tip your lips up in a smile hoping that deflects enough to make it through the next five hours. Then you can pick up your meds and bed rot. The fog is killing you, making you feel like it's pushing you into the floor. You wish you could just sleep for hours, days, the depression saps the energy making you feel tired to the bone. You drink more of the energy drink hoping it will stave off the feeling. You think you might be able to fit one more in before the end of your shift, if you really have to
“Killin me, Sunshine,” he smiles despite the worry. He crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels, head tiled to the side. His way of trying to get you to talk to him. He can tell you’re tired, but there's a bit of something else there that has him worried. “At least you’ve put the flavored air away for now.” You give a slow smile at the joke. He worries more, it's not like you. You’re about two seconds behind every reaction you give. After Langdon, it pushes him to worry more.
It’s not that Robby picks favorites, per se, but there are people that he notices more than others. You’re one of them. He thinks that you’re funny, always positive, like a ray of sunshine, hence the affectionate nickname that the whole department gave you. The one Robby may or may not have given you first. He’s seen you work a double with a smile that never leaves your face. You settle even the most agitated patients by disarming them with that smile. He can pinpoint your laugh across the ER. He knows you’ve walked onto the floor by the sing song hellos you give to the staff and patients as you wind your way through the pitt. It takes the pressure off of his shoulders for that first minute he hears you. You would never know this, but when he’s having a particularly tough day, he tries to focus in on your voice or your laugh, just to bring himself back to the moment.
He hasn’t seen your real smile all day. Hasn’t heard that laugh of yours. You didn’t do a round of hellos this morning. He doesn’t like it. Somehow it is adding to his usual stress. He doesn’t get more time to think about it because McKay pops her head in and pulls him away. You don’t smile as he walks out, you just tip the energy drink back and try to get some more caffeine in your veins to finish the day. He really doesn’t like that.
The next time he sees you is when he steps out of trauma two, and he doesn’t like what he sees. A guy he doesn’t recognize strides in through the ambulance bay doors. You're at the desk with Dana, but you tense when you see him step in. You borderline run to the guy and it’s the fastest Robby’s seen you move outside of a trauma today. Robby can only see your profile, but the look on your face is something he has never seen before. Instant irritation, you’re speaking low and angrily at the man who shoves a brown bag straight into your chest and spits some words at you. You catch the bag then wrap your hand around his forearm and yank him with you outside the doors. Robby makes eye contact with Dana who juts her head in that direction silently telling him to follow as if his feet weren’t taking him there the moment the bag made contact with your chest.
Robby doesn’t know the guy but he looks every bit like a fucking douchebag. Guys hair is perfectly coifed, he's wearing jeans that cost as much as you probably make in a day, brand new leather jacket. You look fucking pissed as you go back and forth with the guy. Robby’s never seen this and he has no idea what to make of you being angry. He didn’t even know that it was an emotion you could express. He slows a bit when he sees that you’re not in active danger.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” you seethe at the guy whos waiving his hands at you and yelling back animatedly. You’re fucking lucky an ambulance hasn’t pulled up. The EMTs know you well, and they wouldn’t hesitate to come check on you.
“It’s not like I fucking wanted to come here, but your friends wouldn’t stop blowing me up. They said you haven't texted them in days. You think I wanted to bring your meds all the way to this fucking shit hole? I have other shit to do,” the guy rolls his eyes.
“Just get the fuck out of here. I don’t want you here, and you didn’t need to bring these here.”
“You know just as well as I do that I had to, and honestly you should be fucking thanking me. You were going to be a mess for the next few fucking weeks if you didn’t get these. Don’t think I don’t know you, don’t think I didn’t fucking live through this with you. Do you know what it’s like to live with someone who’s basically comatose, doesn’t have the fucking energy to shower, cook, clean, fucking function,” Your body language is starting to shrink, Robby watches you curl into yourself, “I had to bring you these because I fucking know how you are and they reached out. What does that make me look like if I didn’t? If your friends knew that I didn’t help you.” Your head shoots up at the last line, sense of anger renewed.
“You know what Tyler, I didn’t fucking ask for your help, didn’t ask for their help, and most of all I don’t fucking care what they think of you. I know that you want me to thank you for being the fucking hero, but here’s the fucking deal. You’re no hero if you’re fucking doing it just to look like the good guy.”
“I’d rather be me than someone who got so depressed she almost failed out of nursing school because she was too fucking lazy to do something about being depressed and get herself out of bed.” You flinch.
“Just fucking go Tyler, fuck,” You throw the bag on the ground and cover your face with your hands.
“Look at yourself, I can tell it's already starting, I’m betting you’ve been off them for a few days. Your hair’s a mess, you don’t have your makeup on, and I’m almost certain that you haven’t taken a shower in two days. What kind of nurse are you if you can’t even bring yourself to do basic grooming and hygiene,” Tyler chuckles, “This is why we didn’t fucking work out. Why I had to break up with you.”
Robby’s done watching, he approaches, “I don’t know who the fuck you are but if you’re not a patient or healthcare worker I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.” You turn to stone at the attending’s voice. Fuck fuck fuck what is he going to think of you now? God you hate yourself, you hate Tyler, and you fucking hate the pills that are rattling in the bottle at your feet when you shift and nudge them with your shoe. Your hands are still covering your face. You hear Tyler huff.
“And who the fuck are you?” Tyler asks petulantly sizing Robby up, the corner of Robby’s mouth turns up. He’s got a lot of height on this scrawny kid. Fuck you do not want him starting a fight with Robby, it would be the cherry on top of a shit sundae and you know it.
“This is my ER, my ambulance bay, my nurse. I’m Dr. Michael Robinavitch, who the fuck are you?” he says in that sarcastic tone he can take on. Tyler scoffs in disbelief, rolls his eyes. Behind your hands you squeeze your eyes tight and hold your breath, willing him not to do something stupid.
“Whatever man,” he kicks the bag at your feet and you flinch, “Text your fucking friends back and tell them to never call me again.” Then he turns on his heel and starts walking towards the parking lot.
Robby turns to you, your hands are still covering your face and all you want is to dissolve into a fucking puddle at your feet. This is mortifying. Tyler showing up at your job and picking at every single one of your insecurities, bearing them to the one attending you’d never want to see your flaws. “Sunshine?” he asks quietly, you’re still not moving your hands, “Talk to me please?” He wraps his hands around your wrists. His voice is too soft, too caring. You can’t fucking look at him now or you’ll lose it. No one in the Pitt has ever seen you cry and you’re trying desperately to keep it that way.
“Dr. Robinavitch can you please just go inside and pretend you didn’t see this. Please?” Your voice sounds so small and half hysterical like you’re on the brink of melting down. Robby knows that tone well, he’s been in your shoes many times. Maybe you’re more alike than he originally thought. Slowly, he removes your hands from your eyes to assess you. Your eyes are glassy and pink around the rims. Your breathing is starting to become shallow. “Dr. Robinavitch please,” you say quietly. He’s still holding onto your wrists as he bends closer to look you in the eyes.
“Please tell me how to help you Sunshine,” he says gently, like you’ll take off running if he’s not there to hold you safely in place. You turn your head to the side unable to handle the concern in Robby’s deep brown eyes. That concern is for patients, his students, interns, residents, not for you, never for you, you think to yourself. You're the one that stands by his side in the trauma room, anticipating his needs. Waiting with what he’s about to ask for before he even asks. You’re supposed to be a part of the team. You’re wasting valuable time that he needs to be spending on the ER floor. Instead he’s out here with you and you’re barely holding it together. Inside, there’s people experiencing the worst days of their lives and you’re keeping their lifeline out here with you and your bullshit.
“It would help me if you returned to your patients and let me collect myself. I will be back in shortly.” You sound detached, Robby hates it, but you’re doing it to keep embarrassment from swallowing you whole. Of course this would happen in front of Robby. Change his perception of you forever. Your cheeks burn in shame.
You’d done so good, you knew that you had done so good at keeping up your image here. Being as positive as possible, ensuring that no one felt the same way as Tyler. You kept yourself from being cynical, tried to be nice to everyone, just for it all to shatter into pieces thanks to the bottles of pills at your feet.
“I really really don’t want to leave you out here,” he says. You reach in your pocket for the vape you have stashed.
“Give me five seconds Dr. Robinavitch. I’ll be fine. I need to regulate. Please,” The only reason Robby decides to go back inside is because he can hear himself in your voice, those moments where the Pitt is so overwhelming that it feels crushing. Where his head is so fucking loud that there’s no way to escape it. He bends down to grab the bag at your feet. Your voice breaks, “Don’t..” you gasp like you’re holding a sob, “Please don’t touch those Dr. Robinavitch.” Robby never hated hearing his last name this much. You never address him by anything other than Robby. It feels like you’re creating distance and he hates it. Hates everything about this day so far if he’s being honest with himself.
He straightens up, lets go of your wrists and presses his hands down firmly on your shoulders. “Five minutes Sunshine, or I’m coming back out.” He takes a step, then turns back, “I better never see that guy here again.” All he gets is a teary sounding chuckle, nothing like the sound of your normal laugh.
“Fucking same,” you sigh. Right before he turns Robby sees you turn to watch him go, there’s tears on your cheeks and for a second he wants so badly to wipe them away.
Dana’s waiting for him with a raised eyebrow when he walks back in, he stops by the hub and leans on the counter. “Met the ex fiancé did you?” She asks knowingly. Robby’s stomach plummets, fiancé? You’d been engaged to that asshole. Dana keeps her eye on Robby watching him digest the information. She has an inkling that Robby has an interest in you, deeper than a doctor's interest in one of his nurses. Robby’s face darkens after a couple seconds and he starts stomping towards trauma two after Santos calls to him.
It’s the last hour of the shift and you’re still a hollow shell of yourself. Robby had it with your blank stares and small voice. Where is Sunshine? He wonders how long you’ve been keeping up this facade for it to finally slip today. If there’s anything that Robby knows it’s overwhelm. That’s what he saw outside in that rare moment of vulnerability. He thinks he knows what was in that bag but he would never ask you directly. When your voice started to break when you asked him not to touch them a piece of Robby cracked too. He didn’t know, didn’t realize just how much you had become a part of his days.
Robby’s running a code when you’re finally by his side for the first time all day. You’d been skillfully avoiding him every second of the rest of the shift, somehow whenever he came near you suddenly a patient needed your attention or something needed stocked. Dana had been watching him try to interact with a smirk all afternoon and into the evening. He’s watching you do compressions while listening to his interns and residents sound off on the patient's status. Around you meds are being pushed, Robby calls to hold compressions, the patient is flat lining and it’s a fine line, they don’t know how long the person has been down, don’t know if there’s even a chance of getting the man on the gurney back. The patient is shocked, no change, you resume compressions, more epi is pushed, more compressions. Robby’s watching how disconnected you look. He tells you to stop compressions and in the mess of the trauma room he calls time of death. You step down wrung out from cpr, the day, all the bullshit you’ve been mentally preparing to do when you get home. You race out of the room, fully aware that it’s shitty to leave everyone behind.
“Sunshine,” Dana calls as you rush past her, you turn on your heel, “there’s only an hour left of the shift. We’ve got it from here. Go home.” She sees your body slump in relief. “You did good today kid,” she smiles and you resume your fast walk to go grab all of your things and head out. In the bustle of shift change it’s easy for you to slip out unnoticed.
Robby’s finishing handoff with Jack when he looks around the Pitt and then at Dana, “Where’s sunshine?” She fixes him with a knowing look.
“Sent her home already, she needed to rest.”
“Fuck,” Robby breathes ignoring the fact that Jack is now giving him the same look as Dana. “I just wanted to check on her again.” He tells them defensively.
“Something wrong with Sunshine?” Abbot asks.
Santos looks up from the computer she’s charting at, “That was not Sunshine today, that was Gloomy. It was bound to happen,” she says matter of factly, “No one can be as positive as she is all the time. Especially not here,” she tacks on as an afterthought.
Jack hums like he knows something. Robby’s eyes narrow. Jack ignores the look at turns on his heel, faking like he’s going to go check on his residents. Robby’s not letting him off the hook though, he follows close and asks in a low voice, “Jack, what do you know?” Why do you know it? He wants to ask his best friend, Jack is staring back at him like he knows what Robby’s thinking.
“You know Sunshine started on the night shift right?” Robby nods.
“You have me to thank for the reason you have her on days,” Jack says, “I suggested days might be better for her, got her a spot. You’re more alike than you think Robby.” Then he struts off leaving Robby with that thought.
Robby grabs his keys and backpack as quickly as possible and takes off towards the physicians parking lot. He would never admit this, but he knows exactly which way through the park you head on your way home. His backpack gets thrown in the backseat of his truck and he peels out of the lot before he lets himself think any further. He makes it to the edge of the park where you exit, and rolls down his window. You’re staring down with headphones in, can’t hear him when he calls out for you. He curses and throws the truck in park, doesn’t bother to shut it off.
You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice that he’s in front of you until you run straight into him. A yelp escapes you as you jump back and then look up to meet the chocolate eyes of the attending. “Robby,” you breathe pulling out one of your headphone, “What are you doing here?” It’s freezing and you don’t even have a coat on is all Robby can think as he looks down at you.
“Giving you a ride home,” he says matter of factly.
“You dont–”
“I know,” is all he says before wrapping a long arm around your shoulders and leading you to the truck.
“Dr. Robinavitch,” You try again as he opens the passenger door. He shakes his head and guides you into the truck.
“You can get in or I’m putting you in myself,” you balk and he reaches for your waist to lift you, but you scramble up into the seat before he makes contact, “Good,” he grabs the seatbelt and buckles you in. For the few seconds it takes for him to walk to the drivers seat all you can feel is the warmth spreading through your body. What the hell is he doing? You wonder to yourself.
Once he’s in the truck and buckled in himself, he looks to you and hands you his unlocked phone, “Two things, first pull up directions to your place, and second put your number in.”
“Dr. Robinavitch,” You try, “This isn’t professional.” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.
“We are well past professional, Sunshine. Do as I say,” the commanding tone of his voice has you complying quickly. The GPS starts narrating the path to your home and you enter in your number and save it under your name, putting ER nurse behind it as an afterthought. Like maybe he would need a reminder of who you are. His lips twitch when he looks at the contact after you hand the phone back. He’ll be changing your name to Sunshine as soon as he has a second.
The rest of the drive to your home is silent, the only thing you can do is sit and soak in the warmth of Robby’s presence, mixed with the slight feeling of dread. You have no idea what he’s doing here. He pulls up in front of your building, parallel parking like he has decades of experience. “Let’s go,” is all he says as he exits the vehicle, but you’re frozen in shock. He opens your door and leans over to unbuckle you, then grabs your hand to lead you out of the truck.
Once your feet hit the pavement its like you remember how to be a person. He follows you close as you hit the pin to get into the building. You think thats it and he’ll turn around, but he continues to follow you up to your door, calmly waiting for you to fumble with your keys and get your door unlocked. You turn and tilt your head up to look at him, “Thanks for the ride,” you mumble clutching the stupid fucking bag of meds to your chest. You’d felt so shitty this morning that you hadn’t even grabbed your usual bag, just stuck your phone, wallet, keys, and headphones in your pockets and hurried out the door because you couldn’t get yourself out of bed until the last possible second. Robby shakes his head.
“We’re not done Sunshine,” is all he says, “Lets go inside.”
“Dr. Robinavitch,” he shakes his head to cut you off, laughing despite himself.
“Do not call me that, Sunshine. It’s Robby or Michael to you, that's it. Now come on, open the door.” There’s nothing you can do but follow the order. You let him into your small apartment and he greedily takes in every single detail. It’s cozy, and it is obvious that you prefer dim lighting, there’s multiple lamps putting out soft light and bookshelves lined against the far wall boxing in the window. He can see a mix of well loved books with cracked spines and knick knacks, you have christmas lights strung along the top adding to the ambiance of the room. Your couch is plush and velvet, covered in a mix of soft blankets. You gesture for him to take a seat, unsure what to do with the large man suddenly in your space.
“Can I get you anything?” your manners suddenly kick in, “I don’t have a lot of options but I’ve got water, beer…” you trail off busying yourself with opening the small fridge and rummaging through like the two options aren’t sitting blatantly in front of your face. Robby takes that time to really look around the space. There’s food containers and energy drink cans laying around, laundry cluttering the floors like you’ve been walking from the bedroom undressing and redressing in the mornings. He forces his thoughts away from that.
“I don’t need anything sweetheart. I need you to come over here and talk to me.” head down, you round the island that separates the living room from the kitchen. You throw the bag of your stupid meds down on the coffee table and take a seat on the other end of your couch, head down, hands folded neatly in your lap. He turns to face you, “What happened today?” Your hands twitch and you look up carefully to catch his eyes just for a second before your gaze falls back to your lap.
“Nothing Dr. Robby. I’m just tired is all. You really didn’t need to do this or worry. I’ll be back to normal by my next shift,” You tell him.
“Who was the guy that came in?”
Fuck you do not want to talk to him about this, you think internally, “That’s just Tyler, he had to drop something off to me is all.”
“Is it that easy for you to lie to me?” Robby asks, tired of not having your eyes he reaches out on takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, forcing you to look him in the eye, “I heard what happened out there,” he tells you softly. Your expression crumbles and your eyes fill with tears.
“I’m sorry Dr. Robby, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you try to explain, “I just–” you don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
“Just what sweetheart?” he scootches closer, but doesn’t let go of your chin. He’s not going another second without having your eyes on him. “Just what?” he repeats watching the first tear cascade down your cheek. He moves his thumb to catch it.
“I didn’t know he would come there,” you sigh, “I’m…” you pause. You really don’t want to say the next part, “I’m just having a hard time is all,” your voice breaks on the word time, “It’s stupid. I promise that I’m fine. That I’ll be back to normal.” More tears start to come. He uses both thumbs to wipe them away this time, cupping your face. You’re opening up to him and he’s going to keep it that way. He keeps your gaze until you go on, “I take um… medicine to stay… level,” its the only word that you can think to use. “I kept getting out too late to get to the pharmacy and I ran out. It’s my own fault really, I know what I’m supposed to do. It’s like you miss one day and then all of a sudden you have a headache and you just want to lay in bed, and so you do, and then its another day of not getting them, and the headache stays, the tiredness stays, and then you get the brain zaps.” You pause watching his eyes fill with understanding. “And even though I have them now, it will be a little bit before I’m good again, and when I get there, I’ll have to take care of everything that I let slip when I was low. It’s just this feeling of dread, you know?” He nods because he does know. “Sometimes its more comfortable to just sit in the low. Stay there until it becomes critical and you have to force yourself out, or someone else forces you out. I guess I’m getting forced out quicker than I thought.” Before Robby has a second to think about it, he leans forward and drops a kiss to the top of your head.
“We’ll get you out of it, Sunshine.” he says against your hair, then wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, something he knows will help. He wonders if you ever get any real physical touch in a day. He knows at work when you’re feeling good that you’re a hugger, but you haven’t been that person in a few days. He’s irritated that he didn’t notice it sooner, but you did good the first couple days of hiding it. You’re really crying now, he can feel the warmth of your tears on his chest soaking his t-shirt, “Everything’s okay now,” he whispers, “We’ll take care of it.” It takes a few moments for the tears to subside and you lean back looking up at him suddenly shy.
“I’m sorry Robby.” He shakes his head assuring you that there’s nothing to be sorry about. Without thinking about it, he runs his hand along the side of your face, and digs his finger tips into your hair smiling when you lean into the touch.
“What can I do to help you?” he asks, “Don’t tell me nothing. Tell me what helps.” You sniffle and tear up again.
“Why are you so nice?” he gives a self deprecating smile.
“Because its you. Because you keep me sane on every single shift, because I like you… a lot. Because you work so hard and care so much. Because you’re a bright spot in my day even when things feel dark.” You shake your head, “I mean it,” he says, “You’re the first person I look for when I walk into work, and you’re usually the last person I see before I leave. I’m always looking for you.” Something inside you warms. “Now, tell me what helps you in a low, so I can get you back.” You’re still leaning into his hand.
“Um… usually the first thing is I need to shower, then I’ll try to pick up as much as possible, remove the clutter so I can think. Robby’s nodding, “I’ll start laundry so I have fresh clean clothes in the morning. Pack my lunch. The key for me is staying prepared because it’s so much easier to avoid the things that I need to do than it is to do them sometimes. I have to prepare for the next day as much as possible to stay on top of it.”
“Okay,” he says softly, “What about food?” you sigh.
“I don’t think I have anything. I was too tired to go to the store.” he nods again like its just another problem that he can solve for you, and it is. He’s already making a task list in his head of things to get you settled like it’s second nature to him. “Usually I just get stuff thats easy to throw in a lunch bag, sandwich stuff, chips, crackers. Same for when I’m home, frozen meals, chef boy ar dee, kraft mac and cheese.” His lips twitch at that.
“Okay,” he stands, holding out a hand for you, and pulling you up with him. His arm is around you again, guiding you to your bedroom which has been untouched through this whole episode. It’s much easier for you to avoid the bedroom when you’re like this. You can’t explain it, but sleeping in the living room with the TV on lends itself to more comfort for you than the bed. The last two nights you’ve slept out there in your scrubs, too tired to force yourself through the motions of getting ready. So, your bed is still made, but your clothes in the dresser are all mixed up like you just rifled through to get what you need and didn’t straighten anything back up, Robby pushes you towards the dresser, “Pick out your pajamas.” Somehow its easier with him giving you the instructions. You grab a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, fresh underwear. Robby nods, then leads you out of the room, “Bathroom?” You point towards it and he opens the door and guides you in. “Alright, take a shower and when you’re done I’ll be out there. Okay? Take as long as you need to feel better. Don’t rush just because I’m here. Do every step to feel as good as possible.” You’re tearing up again, so he pulls you to his chest. You can feel his necklace on his chest through the t-shirt he’s wearing. “Everything is okay,” he tells you, squeezing you tightly. You feel him ghost another kiss on your head. You’re so tired that you don’t even have the energy to think about what all of this means. Robby lets you go and pulls back the shower curtain to turn the water on for you, pulls a towel from the small linen closet in the bathroom. He sets it on the vanity with your clothes before he steps out.
You’re left there in complete silence and you hate it, so you slip out of your clothes and get yourself into the shower so you don’t have to think of anything other than the steps. Your limbs feel heavy but you force yourself to follow Robby’s instructions. You double cleanse your hair, making sure to get the dry shampoo build up out of your hair. Then you put in a hair mask and tie your hair back up to get to work on your body. You take your time like he said, first washing, using a vanilla smelling sugar scrub that Lena got you for your birthday, and then shaving. Finally, you rinse out the mask and condition your hair.
You’re so tempted to skip the next steps of your routine, but you need to do what Robby said. You turn off the water and step out. You go through the motions of drying yourself, rubbing lotion into your skin, and putting on deodorant. You start on the steps of your skincare routine. Next is your haircare routine, you put in the leave-in conditioner and run the brush through the tangles that had nestled into your hair thanks to the 3 day old bun, then some styling cream. Blowdrying your hair takes the longest, but you use your brush to blowdry your hair smooth, knowing that it will help you the next day. And Robby won’t see you looking like a wet rat also helps.
By the time you step out into your small living room, some of the weight has lifted, but not all of it. Robby is standing in your kitchen with take out boxes from your favorite restaurant. “Robby?” He meets your eyes and a smile splits his features, you soak in the crinkles around his eyes and the flash of his teeth against the scruff of his facial hair. “What is all this?”
“Food, Sunshine. You’ve heard of it?” You roll your eyes, starting to feel human. He sets down a bottle of water and your pills in front of you. “Take these, and I’ll fix you a plate.” You look over the food.
“Um, Robby, this place doesn’t deliver, how’d you get this here?” You were in there awhile, but not long enough that he could have went there to get it and back. He smiles like he has his own secret.
“They deliver for me,” is all he says cryptically. You take the pills like instructed and then look around. Somehow he’d already straightened up your small space. The trash is gone, clothes picked up, presumably in your hamper. You can hear the laundry going in the small laundry room off of the kitchen. Your dishwasher is also running. The level of care hits you all at once and your eyes are shining again.
“Michael,” You say tentatively, you’ve never called him by his first name, “You really didn’t have to do all of this.” He comes closer with the plate of food and wraps his arm around you again.
“I’m guessing by your lack of a dining table that you eat on the couch, sit, and find something to watch.” He hands you the plate and the remote, unfolds one of the blankets that he undoubtedly folded while you were in the shower, and drapes it over your legs. After making himself a plate he comes back to take a seat next to you, you’re scrolling aimlessly through the different streaming services. After you’ve switched streaming apps three times, Robby looks at you out of the corner of his eye, “Gonna pick something?” You look at him sheepishly.
“I have no idea what to watch,” he shrugs.
“I think anything is good Sunshine, I’m probably not going to be paying attention to it anyway, he winks. Your cheeks burn with a blush and you roll your eyes. Then a show catches your eye and you pick it.
“Really?” he asks as ER starts to play. You shrug with a small smile.
“Fitting isn’t it?” He just smiles and shakes his head while you both tuck into your food. Things are starting to feel lighter already.
One episode of ER later, more like one episode of Robby correcting all of the inaccuracies later, youve had enough of just watching him out of the corner of your eye and wondering. “Micheal?” His head turns to you, warmth flooding his chest at his first name coming from your lips. “Why did you really do all of this?” You ask. No one goes out of their way like this for a coworker. Even someone as good as Robby. You’ve never interacted outside of the hospital, and somehow he has come into your home and seen every intimate detail of your life. He even put your underwear in the laundry, but you refuse to think about that any further.
“I told you sweetheart. I like you.”
“Liking someone doesn’t mean that you come to their house and act as their maid service because they’re too lazy to pick up their meds.” He just sighs, standing up and taking both of your plates to the sink. Once they’re out of the way he comes back to the couch and sits, this time much much closer. He takes your face in both of his hands, pulling it close to his.
“I thought we covered this already, Sunshine. I like you a lot. I was really fucking worried about you today. I’m not really sure what I would do without you. Outside of Jack and Dana, I don’t think that there’s anyone else that knows me like you do, and like we covered earlier, you’re the brightest part of my day. I can’t have that going away.” He touches his forehead to yours.
“Michael…” you say his name carefully because this moment feels like it could slip away, “What do you mean by that?”
“It means that I want more of you, if you’ll give it to me,” he brings his lips a hair away from yours, “It means that I’m going to kiss you now, hold you while we watch this entirely inaccurate doctor show, and then tuck you in.” Your pulse spikes dramatically, “After that, I’ll be here in the morning to pick you up for your shift, bring you home after, rinse and repeat. Okay Sunshine?”
You’re confident that you’ve gone into cardiac arrest, or that you’re vividly hallucinating. You don’t break eye contact with Robby, but you do lift your arm and pinch. Hard. You gasp quietly at the sensation and Robby chuckles at your antics, “I’m waiting Sunshine.”
Carefully, you reach up and place your hand around the back of his neck, then close the barely there gap between your mouths.
Summary: part three of the loml series. In this chapter you’re incredibly drunk at the bar after making some unfortunate phone calls to Abbot and Robby. Luckily, the two men come to your rescue. Unluckily however, a big misunderstanding stops your attendings from getting you home safely.
Word Count: 3.7k
Note: reader is named Reid.
Your vision began to blur as the bar swayed. Was the wooden bar swaying or was the stool you sat on swaying?
Or was it you?
You didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt nauseous, the liquid in your belly threatening to make a reappearance.
Your fingers tapped on your fifth empty glass as you heard the light tinkling of bells behind you, indicating the door opening.
You barely registered the sound, because not even five seconds later, you suddenly felt a warm hand on your waist, and a low voice in your ear.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
You knew that voice.
The warm hand on your hip was steadying, and you vaguely realized that if that hand hadn’t been there, you would have fallen off your stool.
Your stomach did a funny little flip.
You slowly turned to face the owner of the voice and hand.
He looked just as beautiful as he always did. Soft silver curls, gorgeous hazel green eyes, small lines around his eyes. The ensuing smile that lit up his features made his eyes crinkle further.
You frowned.
“No.” You said simply.
“No?” He echoed, his smile dropping.
“You…you’re not supposed to be here.” You told him, slurring slightly.
“Trust me, I know.” He said sadly, squeezing your hip slightly.
You pulled your phone out with one hand, pointing to the device with your other. “You were supposed to be in there.” You furrowed your brows.
He let out a small chuckle, understanding what your drunk brain was talking about.
“I was in there. But now I’m here. With you.” His free hand booped you on the nose and you blinked two seconds too late. Your brain seemed to be even slower than your reactions.
“Oh.”
He chuckled again then pointed at the stool next to you.
“Can I sit?” He asked with a raised brow.
You shrugged. “I dunno. Can you?” You snickered.
He took a seat beside you, but kept one hand on you. You didn’t know why.
“God, sweetheart, you really are drunk.”
You tried to wink, but it came off as more of a too long blink.
“What was that? An early sign of a stroke?” He teased.
You gave him another strange wink.
He laughed again, and the sound did things to your lower belly.
Then he looked over your shoulder at something behind you. His face darkened.
You followed his line of sight, spying Robby. You frowned.
“What is he doing here?” You tried to whisper to Jack, but your voice was loud enough for people eight feet away to hear clearly.
“Hey, Reid. Glad to see you too.” He greeted.
You looked between the two men.
“You both came.” You said, pointing at them.
Robby shrugged. Jack spoke for the both of them.
“You called.”
You furrowed your brows again, pouting. Nothing was making sense in your brain.
You looked down at your empty glasses, swallowing. “I thought…I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
Jack looked like you’d physically hit him.
“Is that why you called Robby first?”
“I called Robby to tell him how much I hate him.” You said simply, the words slurred.
The answering silence was painful.
You strangely felt like you’d said something very wrong. You almost wished you could unsay them. But that didn’t make sense.
You did hate Robby.
Didn’t you?
“I need another drink. Bartender!” You raised your hand to signal the man who was serving another girl.
Robby’s hand quickly slid over yours, lowering it.
“I think you’ve had enough.” He murmured.
“Yeah, well. We’re all entitled to our opinions aren’t we?” You slurred.
“We are, but-“
“I need another drink.” You snapped, ripping your hand out from under his.
“No, you don’t, Reid. I’m cutting you off.”
You let out a harsh laugh. “How fitting. Doctor Robinavich is telling me what I can’t have.”
He drew back like you’d slapped him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You know exactly what it means.”
Hurt flashed in his brown eyes.
You lifted your arm again to signal the bartender. Robby caught it again, gripping your wrist.
“You may hate me for this now, but trust me, in time, you will come to thank me for this.” His grip tightened on your wrist. It wasn’t painful, just forcing you to listen.
“No, I don’t think I will ever come to thank you for what you’ve done.” You sneered, trying to rip your arm back, but he held strong.
“Whatever. I don’t care what you think. I’m willing to be the bad guy for the sake of your future.” He finally released your wrist.
“You’re always the bad guy.” You grumbled.
“That’s enough.” Jack finally spoke, loud enough that you stopped speaking.
You’d kind of forgotten he was there to be honest.
You could feel him watching you, his expression unreadable. You folded your arms across your chest.
“I’m not leaving.” You swore.
“Why not?” Jack asked.
“I don’t want to.” You said stubbornly.
“Why not?” Jack repeated.
“Because I don’t want to.” You said petulantly with all the dignity of a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“I know that. But why don’t you want to go home? And how did you even get here? Your car wasn’t in the parking lot.” Jack tried softly.
“I walked.”
“Oh. Well that answers that question. And the other?”
You took a moment.
“I…I- my apartment was so…empty. And I…couldn’t stop thinking about…you. So I went for a walk.” You licked your lips.
Neither man spoke.
“I just- I just needed my brain to be quiet. If it was quiet, it didn’t hurt as much,” you admitted.
You couldn’t face either man, choosing instead to look at the bar counter.
Jack's hand began a soothing motion on your hip, sliding up and down.
You looked at him, your own gaze watery.
“Come on, sweetheart. Sitting here at this bar, drinking, isn’t going to help anything. It’ll only give you a killer hangover tomorrow on top of what you’re already feeling.” Jack said sadly.
“How do-“ you were interrupted by a hiccup- “you know?”
You felt inclined to disagree with him, wanting to tell him that you were perfectly content right where you were, but Robby was already on your other side, his big hand clamped around your upper arm.
He was already pulling you off your bar stool.
You slapped at his hand. “Hey!”
“Let’s go, Reid. You’re so drunk, I think I’m getting tipsy just by smelling your breath.” Robby insisted.
“Robby! I said no! I don’t want to leave!” You argued, slurring even as you fought.
“You’re a sad drunk, Reid. I’m not letting you stay and wallow like this. Once again, I’ll be the bad guy for your benefit, even if you hate me.” Robby fought, hand still on your arm.
You looked to Jack for help.
He didn’t interject.
He just frowned at you, as if the sight of you, drunk and a mess because of him, physically hurt him.
You knew then that you must have looked just as pathetic as you felt. But your head spun and your knees wobbled as you let Robby drag you from the stool.
Then you heard a vaguely familiar voice from behind you.
“Hey, bro. Are you deaf? She said she doesn’t want to leave.”
You spun to look over your shoulder, almost falling over in the process. God, you didn’t think you’d ever been this drunk before. If it weren’t for Robby’s hand on your arm holding you up, you would have fallen on the floor.
It took a moment of you blinking before the owner of the voice came into focus.
It was the guy from earlier. The one who’d tried to buy you a drink. The one you’d scared off.
Oh shit.
Except this time he wasn’t watching you. No, his bright gaze was focused solely on Robby and the hand he held on your arm.
Your head lolled, suddenly too heavy for your shoulders.
“I know what she said, but she’s my coworker,” Robby told him calmly.
“And?” The guy asked, his expression hardening. “That doesn’t explain why she’s saying no and you’re still not backing off.”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You felt grateful for this stranger. Clearly, he was a good guy, just looking out for drunk off their ass women like you. But you didn’t need his help.
You just couldn’t seem to communicate that.
“Trust me, man, I’m looking out for her too. She’s just drunk and upset, and we’re trying to get her out of here so she can sober up.” Robby held out a placating hand.
“I can tell she’s drunk, but she clearly doesn’t want to go with you.” The stranger looked at you, “do you?”
You bit your lip, shaking your head. Your drunk brain didn’t even think of lying to this Good Samaritan.
“Okay. That’s settled then. She’s not going anywhere with you two.” The man stepped closer to you protectively.
Robby sighed, his hand reaching up to scrub his face. “Listen, this is not what this looks like. I’m not-“
“Not what? Preying on this poor girl? Trying to get a drunk girl to come home with you? Because from where I’m standing, she’s drunk, she’s clearly upset, she’s saying she doesn’t want to leave, and you’re forcing her to come with you anyway.” This whole thing was becoming a huge misunderstanding but you couldn’t seem to find the words to diffuse the situation. Your head was spinning and your knees were weak.
Your stomach churned and your head was beginning to get loud again.
You looked at Jack, finding his eyes only on you. Pain and something like…something like sympathy warred in his eyes. But that couldn’t be right. He never looked at you like that. Like you were something to feel sorry about.
The stranger stepped even closer, trying to draw your attention to him.
“Hey, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, okay?”
Robby stepped up closer to the man, his hand still keeping you upright.
“She isn’t going anywhere she doesn’t want to go. She would want to come with us. Sober her would, anyway. Trust me, man, I appreciate everything you’re doing here, but it’s unnecessary.” Robby argued, beginning to laugh humorlessly.
“That’s no excuse, man.” The stranger stayed strong in his resolve.
On any other day, you would appreciate his valiant effort.
“I wasn’t-“ Robby started.
“Let the girl speak for herself!” A woman behind the stranger yelled.
That’s when you noticed how much of an audience you’d gathered. Now, everyone in the bar was watching this ordeal unfold. People were watching with bated breath, ready to defend you from your big bad attendings.
You giggled at the ridiculousness.
Fortunately for you, Jack seemed to notice the crowd gathering at the same time you did. That’s when he finally stepped up.
His face was concerned, barely a hint of amusement shining through.
His free hand came up to palm your cheek. You leaned into the touch involuntarily.
“Sweetheart.”
God, you loved it when he called you that. You hoped you remembered him calling you that tomorrow.
You blinked dumbly up at him.
“Can you tell him you’re okay?”
You bit your lip, then giggled. “Okay? Okay? After what happened yesterday?” You suddenly found what he’d said very funny.
The stranger still watched, his eyes flicking between you and Jack, then between you and Robby. You knew you must have been a sight to behold. Jack with a hand on your hip, the other on your cheek. Robby, with his hand on your arm. You, giggling like a maniac, barely able to stand.
You didn’t even know what you looked like.
Robby must have realized how bad this looked. “Listen, it’s complicated, all right?”
“I see.” The man said.
Jack dropped his hand from your face.
“She called me,” Robby said, unwilling to leave you.
The man directed his gaze at you. “Did you ask him to come?”
You thought for a moment.
You remembered what you’d said.
How much you hated him.
How much you had protested at the idea of him coming to get you.
“Not exactly.” You hiccuped.
Jack swore, shaking his head.
“Then why are you here, trying to take her home with you?” The man raised a manicured eyebrow.
“Listen, I- she- she’s not making sense at the moment.” Robby stammered, growing flustered and frustrated with your antics.
“No, buddy, I think you’re the one that needs to listen. She doesn’t look like she wants to leave. Especially not with you.”
Robby’s jaw clenched.
Jack kept watching the interaction closely.
Robby rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I really cannot deal with this right now. I’ve had a long day. I just need to get her home safely, alright? That’s all I’m trying to do.”
You hiccuped loudly, the sound not helping your case.
Jack sighed dramatically, closing his eyes, pressing his hand to his forehead.
“I really don’t like your tone, old man.” Another man stepped up beside the stranger. Great. Now you had two good samaritans trying to save you when you really didn’t need saving.
You tried to open your mouth, you really did, but all that bubbled out was laughter.
“Old man?” Jack echoed, finally stepping up.
The new stranger stepped up to meet Jack’s gaze.
“You heard me. What are you to her? Because to me, you both look old enough to be her father.” The new stranger snapped, and that’s when you really lost it. You couldn’t control your laughter at the way Jack’s brows furrowed, the way Robby’s lips thinned.
“That’s none of your concern,” Robby snapped.
Both strangers' eyes widened.
You finally managed to locate your tongue in your mouth, moving closer to the strangers. You could at least explain who they were to you.
You pointed at Jack. “He’s the one that thinks I’m- I’m stupid and nai- naibe? Naive! Remember? I told you about him being one of my boyfriends.” You slurred, hoping that would remind the stranger of your earlier conversation.
Recognition dawned in the man’s eyes.
Then you pointed at Robby. “And he’s the one that thinks I’m a whore!” You yelled excitedly.
You had remembered briefly telling the stranger about your problems with men earlier.
You felt like you deserved a medal. You’d saved the day. Or so you’d thought.
Robby and Jack’s jaws were wide open, staring at you like you’d grown a new head. Scratch that. Two heads.
“What-“ they both sputtered at the exact same time.
You only laughed, swaying. “What? It’s true! And that’s what I told the nice man when he tried to buy me a drink.” You explained dumbly.
The strangers watched you like you were insane.
Everyone seemed to be stunned into silence.
Robby looked at you like you’d just punched him.
Jack looked absolutely devastated.
Your laughter faded. “What?” You hiccuped.
The strangers' expressions became even more concerned.
“He called you a whore?” The first man asked.
Robby spoke immediately. “No. I absolutely didn’t. I would never.”
You frowned. “I mean…not exactly.” But you knew how he’d looked at you.
“Oh, for Christ's sake-“ Robby swore, his eyes closing.
“He in-inplied it. Implied it!” You said, pointing at Robby.
“I did not!” Robby argued.
You pointed at Robby, your finger wobbling. “He suspended me because I got caught fooling around with him.” Your finger moved to point at Jack. You began to laugh again. “And do you want to hear the best part? They’re both my boss!”
The room fell silent, the music in the background the only source of sound.
“What the fuck?” You heard someone far back yell.
You must have looked like more of a train wreck than you felt.
You turned back around to face the bartender. Even he was staring in shock, a glass frozen in his hand.
“What? Did I say something?” You asked innocently.
Jack rubbed a tired hand over his face, sighing.
“Swee- Reid-“ Jack began.
“What?” A sinking feeling began to form in your gut. “That’s what you said. That’s what happened.”
“I never said-“ Jack started.
“You did.” You argued.
“I said you were-“
“You said I was-was naive.” Your eyelids were beginning to get impossibly heavy.
“I said that there was a power imbalance-“
“There!” You yelled.
The first stranger just kept looking between you all, like he was regretting even getting into this mess in the first place.
The second stranger was less regretful. His blue eyes were hard as he looked at Robby.
“So, you think she’s a whore-“
“I do not!” Robby protested.
“-and the other one clearly has… unresolved business with her.” He looked at Jack.
Jack closed his eyes.
The first stranger spoke again, finishing the other man’s sentiment. “And she’s your…employee?”
“Resident,” you corrected unhelpfully.
Robby lifted his hands in a mock surrender. “I know what this sounds like.”
The strangers scoffed.
“Listen, she’s clearly very drunk. She’s had a really rough couple of days. She called me tonight. I came to make sure she got home safely, because as much as she hates me, I care about her.” Robby said evenly.
The words didn’t penetrate the layer of alcohol currently surrounding your brain.
“I didn’t ask you to come.” You grumbled.
Robby gave you a look, as if to say now was not the time.
“I know.” He relented.
“I called you to tell you I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t want you here.” You muttered.
His grip wavered slightly on your arm. “I know.”
The second stranger folded his arms across his broad chest. “So why are you still trying to take her with you, man?”
Robby’s jaw clenched. “Because. She can’t even walk on her own, she’s that drunk.”
As if on cue, your knees wobbled.
Robby’s grip on you only tightened. He raised his dark brows at the men, as if to say ‘see?’
You slapped lightly at Robby’s hand. He held firm.
“Reid.” Jack grabbed your slapping hand.
You tried to yank it out of his grip to no avail. “No.” You whined.
Your head swam as you suddenly saw four strangers in front of you, when there were only two.
“Quit struggling, baby. We’re just trying to get you outta here so you can sober up.” Jack mumbled quietly into your ear.
But you didn’t want to sober up.
Being sober meant being sad.
Being sober meant your head was loud.
You wanted it all to be quiet.
“But I don’t want to go.” You complained.
The second stranger, the one with an heir of arrogance around him, stepped up so that he was only a foot away from Robby.
“You heard her. Leave.”
Robby groaned, huffing in frustration.
“Just get out of here, bro, go find a nice girl your own age and let her go.” The man’s heart was in the right place, you could tell, but you couldn’t currently understand that in the state you were in.
“If I let go of her right now, she’ll fall over, and I’ll have to add a concussion to her list of bad things that happened to her this week.” Robby sighed.
“I’ll hold her up then. Make sure she gets home safe.” The first stranger said, stepping up so that he was face to face with you.
At the hand the man extended in your direction, Jack snapped into action.
He quickly stood in front of you, not allowing the stranger's hand anywhere near you. Now both men were slightly in front of you, and you knew just how bad this looked.
“I really don’t have the energy for this.” Robby sighed, pushing the stranger slightly in the chest to move him. Robby dragged you along with him. You had no choice but to follow along.
Except now the audience you had gathered was really working against you.
Now a new man stood in front of Robby, just as you reached the doorway. And this man was big. His shoulders were wide, his nose looked like it had been broken at least twice, and he had a beard that you were sure reached his belly button.
“That’s funny.” He spoke. “You’ve clearly got plenty of energy to drag around this drunk girl.”
Robby looked like he was about two seconds away from an aneurysm.
“God, you have no idea how insane this sounds right now. You have no idea how ironic this is.” Robby sighed. “If she was sober, she’d be having a field day right about now.”
Robby moved to navigate around the burly man, Jack hot on your heels, but the big man stepped aside, blocking your path.
“Move.” Robby snapped, his patience clearly gone.
The man didn’t budge. “No.”
The entire bar was deathly quiet.
Your feet felt like they didn’t even belong to your body anymore.
Robby once again tried to move around the mountain of a man. “Move!”
The man shoved Robby in the chest, faster than you could blink. Robby stumbled backwards, slightly, but still held onto you.
Jack moved faster than you’d ever seen him move. He immediately placed himself between Robby and the man. The move seemed almost instinctive. Jack was so clearly protecting Robby, your heart melted slightly. Could your heart melt? You pondered that for a moment while you watched everything unfold.
“No means no, buddy,” the man spoke. “Or didn’t your father ever teach you that?” The man taunted.
You could tell that was the moment Robby’s eyes glazed over.
“Hey! How about we just calm down!” Jack yelled, clearly privy to why that comment was so over the line for Robby.
The man shoved at Jack, pushing him backwards slightly. You instinctively tried to move forward, but Robby held you back.
“Listen, buddy-“ Jack held up his hands.
“Don’t ‘buddy’ me, asshole!” The man snarled, his arm swinging back.
Everything happened so fast you barely registered it.
All you knew was that one moment, the man was toe to toe with Jack. Then the big man swung his arm back, his fist clenched.
But Jack had seen the move coming.
And he’d ducked.
Meaning that Robby, who’d been standing right behind Jack’s protective body, hadn’t seen the blow coming.
You heard the resounding smack, and you then saw Robby’s head snap to the side as the punch landed squarely in his face.
A/N: let me know if you guys would like to be tagged in part four!!
BF!Robby Robinavitch x Female Reader ⋮ (wc: 1,132)
summary : Robby grabs the wrong coffee tumbler.
warnings : slight profanity? thats all rlly
a/n : robby is so daddy omg 👅👅
masterlist , taglist (soon)
You were the type of girlfriend who found ways to make even the most ordinary days feel special.
Rainy days meant matching pajamas, fuzzy blankets, and whatever cheesy rom-com you insisted on putting on. After long shifts, you’d convince Robby to squeeze into the bathtub with you, claiming it was the perfect way to unwind before spending the rest of the night curled up together on the couch.
Robby loved every bit of it.
Of course, he’d never admit that.
Instead, you’d hear the same complaints every time.
“Baby… how do you expect me to fit in there with you?”
“Princess, I don’t see how you watch these movies.”
“Matching pajamas? Really?”
Yet somehow, he always ended up wearing the pajamas, sitting through the movie, and wrapping an arm around you before the credits rolled.
You had a habit of making everything the two of you owned match.
Matching hoodies.
Matching phone cases.
Matching coffee tumblers, each engraved with your initials.
The only thing that didn’t match was what went inside them.
Your coffee was loaded with sugar, cream, flavored syrup, and sometimes even strawberry milk instead of regular milk.
Robby’s was the exact opposite—black coffee with a couple extra shots of espresso and nothing else.
This morning was one of your days off, so while Robby hurried around the apartment getting ready for work, you stayed in the kitchen making breakfast and pouring your morning coffees.
Between flipping pancakes, packing his lunch, and answering his constant, “Babe, have you seen my keys?” from the other room, you poured both drinks into your matching tumblers and set them side by side on the counter.
You never thought to move his away from yours.
And in his rush to get out the door…
Robby grabbed the wrong one.
By time you realized it was too late, Robby pressing a kiss to your cheek and grabbing the plate and coffee you made for him, not looking at the cup.
Robby didn’t realize anything was wrong until he took his first sip after getting to work.
The second the coffee hit his tongue, his face twisted in disgust, and he nearly choked on it.
“…The fuck?”
He pulled the tumbler away from his lips, staring at it like it had personally offended him before slowly turning it in his hand.
Instead of his initials engraved on the side…
Yours.
He let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the realization hit him. Somehow, in his rush to get out the door, he’d grabbed your coffee instead of his.
Behind the nurses’ station, Dana watched the entire thing unfold, struggling to hold back a laugh before finally giving up and chuckling.
Robby doesn’t reply.
Instead, he just gives Dana a long, unimpressed glare—the kind that makes it obvious he knows she’s enjoying every second of this.
She only chuckles, shaking her head as he turns and walks away, still holding the offending tumbler in his hand.
He heads back toward the hallway, muttering under his breath about how he’s never going to hear the end of this before pulling his phone from his pocket.
Opening your contact, he types out a message without much hesitation.
Robby: No more coffee for you if it’s going to be sweeter than a fucking candy store.
A few seconds later, another message follows.
Robby: Seriously, what the hell did you put in this? Sugar? More sugar? A whole damn dessert?
You type out the simplest response possible, but somehow it’s enough for Robby to know exactly what’s happening on the other side of the screen.
A few seconds pass before your message appears.
You: Oopsie.
That’s it.
One word.
Yet he can practically hear the giggling behind it.
Robby stares at the screen for a moment, completely unimpressed, even though he knows you’re probably sitting there laughing at the thought of him walking around the hospital with a coffee that tastes more like a milkshake than actual caffeine.
He shakes his head, letting out a quiet scoff as he types back.
Robby: You think this is funny?
A pause.
Then another message comes through.
Robby: You’re lucky I love you.
Despite his complaining, he takes another sip from the cup, grimacing slightly at the sweetness before looking down at your initials engraved on the side.
summary - robby realizes he doesn't ever want to be without you. so you decide to move in together.
a/n - I LIED. sorry, i said dennis was next, but i lied. i've been so busy lately i think i just needed to start with something short simple and fluffy. but trust dennis is coming!!! I'M CRAVING A CRISP FALL DAY SO FUCKING BAD. enjoy!
---
Robby liked to watch you. Jack said it was creepy, but you didn’t mind.
You were full of color, from the way you dressed, to the way you decorated, to your personality. It was pleasing to the eye and soul alike, like every word, smile, and movement you made left a bright rainbow streaking in its wake. You were delicate, like a flower, in your motions, but strong in your convictions.
You smelled good, too. Somehow, though they were everywhere, your apartment never held the aroma of cats. Your skin smelled like apple body wash, your sheets like citrus dew, and the air like whatever seasonally appropriate concoction you had boiling on the stove. The combination of all three seemed to smell like sunshine itself.
And your energy. The ease with which you seemed to operate. Robby, the broken down, traumatized old doctor, hardly recognized himself when he was with you. It was like you took half the weight he carried around, but somehow, it didn’t bog you down at all. You were like a mythical metal, taking in only that which made you stronger. And according to you, every experience had its merit.
The days Robby started with you were good ones. The days without, felt sour. Simply observing you in your natural habitat, getting ready, washing up, tidying, purring to your cats, was lifegiving to him. More fulfilling than any hobby he’d tried to force himself into before, at the bequest of a quickly ghosted therapist.
If he could do it with you, Robby was eager to do anything, no matter how mundane. It took the laundry from your arms to fold, took the sponge from your hand to scrub, took your feet into his lap to massage. Happily.
These were just some of the reasons Robby listed in his forty-five minute long rant explaining why moving in together would be a wonderful idea.
He didn’t just want moments in the sun. He wanted to live in the sun. Lounge to his heart’s content.
“I mean, I already spend most nights at your place anyways,” he said. “I have a key. And your neighbors know me. Eloise has totally come around to me.”
You laid over his lap. It was a balmy summer day in August, and the rain currently pounding the pavement below was the first reprieve from the stifling heat you’d had in days. The moment the clouds overtook the sky, and the first few drops tapped against the window, Robby hardened in his resolve to finally speak the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months.
Rain reminded him of you. It had rained on your first date. Rained the day he told you he loved you, blurted it out, despite how early it seemed. You’d smiled and said it right back. It was raining again, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted you to say yes.
He hadn’t exactly given you a chance yet, though. After “I think we should move in together,” he launched immediately into his explanation, without giving you a second to formulate a response. Now, the better part of an hour later, he was finally winding down from his passionate speech. You’d listened patiently, humming and nodding, wrapped around him.
He fiddled with your stripy shorts as he ran out of words.
“Are you done?” you asked gently.
“Yes,” he said, pink in the face.
“Okay,” you said. “Let’s move in together.”
Robby pictured himself, should he have been so lucky for you to say yes, jumping to his feet with you in his arms, spinning you around, drowning you in frantic kisses. But when he heard those words from your lips, so long awaited, he collapsed under the comfortable blanket of relief and joy. All he could bring himself to do was sink into your hold, squishing his face into your warm neck. He laid on top of you, tangled in you, for hours into the night after that. You held him tight, playing with his hair, unable to stop your smiling so long as you could feel Robby’s against your skin.
The next day, you woke up bright and early to get a head start on classroom set up. As an experienced teacher, you weren’t naive enough to leave all the work until the last possible month. The school printers would have issues with all the tech people out on vacation and unable to fix them. Storage offered was often iffy, and in your second year teaching, you came in August first ready to set up, only to find that a leak had destroyed half of your decorations and supplies.
You never made that mistake again.
Robby insisted on accompanying you whenever he wasn’t working, helping to reach high places, and use his old handyman skills he gained helping his grandmother around her house. Indeed, your sticky lock hadn’t been bothering you for a while, and the top windows actually opened now.
That day, though, Robby seemed more interested in getting a jump on apartment hunting.
“You don’t like my apartment?” you asked, as he set up his laptop on your cluttered desk.
“I love your apartment,” he said, sliding on his glasses. “I hate your landlord.”
By lunch, you had cut out and laminated all twenty-six of your kid’s colorful nametags, and Robby had flagged several promising looking places to visit. It seemed simple. They were nice places. But none of them seemed quite right to Robby.
The first open house you attended, there were a pair of young huskies that howled bloody murder at the snap of a door closing, or the TV. The next, it was not enough natural light. The one after that, too much natural light.
“It’d be a workout just to get some simple privacy!” Robby argued, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You? You were flexible, as always. You were no stranger to shitbox apartments, what with living on a teachers salary all your adult life. You knew how to brighten a place up, even the dankest, grayest places.
Where Robby saw cramped, you saw cozy. Where he saw old and dingy, you saw charming and vintage. Where he saw ugly, you saw potential.
But it was going to be his house too, and you wanted him to be happy, just as much as he wanted you to be happy. You were quite content being dragged from showing to showing, while running out your lease with Robby by your side.
By the end of August, however, you had no choice but to start packing up. Robby kept insisting the right place would be just around the corner, and it wouldn’t serve you to renew the lease, which would expire in September. So you agreed to just move into his apartment until the “right place” decided to finally make an appearance.
And it did, about one week into the school year. You were bubble wrapping the last of your picture frames, when Robby returned from work looking much more excited than a man just off a twelve hour shift should have. He set down his things, toed off his shoes, and planted a big kiss on your lips.
“Hello,” you said.
“Hi,” he said, collapsing down next to you on the floor. “I’ve found the perfect place.”
You raised a brow.
“While you were at work?”
“Yep,” he said happily, scratching Lisa behind the ears. “An old teacher of mine is retiring, and he’s moving to Florida and selling his house. It’s an old brownstone downtown. It’s closer to the hospital and your school.”
You had to set down your tape. Living in a classic brownstone in the city had long since been a dream of yours, but you’d never be able to afford it. And in a prime spot like the one Robby was describing? It seemed too good to be true.
“That sounds… amazing,” you said truthfully.
“It is,” he said, beaming. “It will be. I promise.”
He hadn’t broken a promise yet, so you agreed to go see it that Saturday. Robby’s old teacher and his wife were very nice people, who seemed excited to move on to the next chapter in their story, away from the toxic highs and lows of medicine and the hustle and bustle of the city. The place was both everything you could have dreamed of, and your worst nightmare.
The large apartment you had in mind, which already seemed luxurious to you, was quickly blown away by the reality of the massive, three story rowhouse you explored. There was brick, and real hardwood floors, and big windows. The ensuite bathroom was ginormous, far bigger than anything you’d ever peed in before. Everything from the deck, to the open kitchen, to the ornate banisters filled you with both dread and excitement.
“It’s served us well for thirty years now,” said Mrs. Hinsen fondly. “Robby assured me it would be in the best of hands.”
“Yes, it’s very important to Sarah that it goes to someone who won’t go modernizing,” said Dr. Hinsen. “Someone who’ll care for the wood, and preserve the molding, and such.”
And you wanted to explode, because of course you wouldn’t think of tarnishing such a beauty as this. After the tour, the couple left you to discuss. Robby was watching you apprehensively.
“Tell me this isn’t perfect,” he said, watching your wide, sparkly eyes rove around the room.
“It’s perfect,” you said. “But Mikey — five bedrooms. Three stories. A deck. A fireplace. A laundry room.” He nodded. “We can’t afford this.”
“Yes, yes we can,” he said, grabbing your waist gently. “They said they’d let it go at a better price for me. And I’ve spent years saving up for something just like this.”
You bit your lip.
“You can afford it,” you said, smoothing the collar of his shirt. “But I —”
“So let me,” he interrupted. “Just let me take care of you. Please?”
You let out a breathy laugh.
“Robby, this is — this isn’t like buying me lunch, or the fancy whiteboard markers,” you said. “This is a house.”
“It’s our future,” he said softly. “Besides, if teachers were paid what they deserved, you’d be able to buy a house ten times bigger than this.”
You shook your head, but you were already tearing up. Robby rubbed his thumbs back and forth on your hips. It was a lot. It was bigger and better than anything you could have imagined. But maybe, for the first time, you didn’t have to work yourself to the bone. Because Michael was watching you with his big brown eyes, brimming with happiness, begging to do this for you.
Before you could change your mind, you were nodding.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
That time, Robby did spin you around and jump for joy.
And so began the process of moving in. You realized that you had much more stuff than you thought, but it still wasn’t enough to fill the new place. You got a lot of cardio running up and down the many sets of stairs, at your old apartment, Robby’s old apartment, and the three floors of your new house. You ordered runners for the stairs, rugs to fit spaces much bigger than your old ones could, and a real dining table with matching chairs.
The cats settled in pretty quickly, chasing each other through the halls, and looking out the windows for hours at a time. You could tell they were still getting acclimated to having this much space, and you were too. You had a bedroom, a cat room, and a craft room, and still had two more empty ones to spare.
You liked being able to decorate a front stoop that was really all yours, and you pictured sitting out with a bowl of candy on the fast approaching night of Halloween. Robby screened in the back deck so the cats could get fresh air like they’d never had before. Harry, in particular, loved it. You’d find him out there any time, night or day.
It was a dream. You pictured yourself hosting Thanksgiving dinner, and birthday parties. Your book club would finally have a steady meeting place. And yes, maybe one of the spare bedrooms would be converted to a nursery, one day.
The first really chilly October day of the season found Robby grumbling, sniffling, and sent home early with a cold. Even still, it sent a thrill through his congested chest that home meant this.
The leaves crunched underfoot as he dragged them up the steps, past the pumpkin display you set up, and through the unlocked front door. Through his clogged up nose, he was hit with the unmistakable scent of something rich and savory cooking on the stove. The lights were on, and he could hear you humming along with a Nat King Cole record. He could picture you even before you were in his sight, swaying as you stirred.
“Moony?” he called out, kicking off his boots haphazardly.
There was a clang, a pattering, and you appeared around the corner. You were wearing your usual beaming grin, along with a frilly apron, a pair of star strewn pajama pants, his hoodie, and your worn slippers.
“You’re home!”
You hopped over to bestow upon him a hug and a sweet kiss. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was four in the afternoon. You started undressing him, taking his bag, then his sweater, then his scrub top.
“Yeah, what are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you had the spelling tests to grade?”
“I do,” you said simply, hanging up his things and steering him further inside. “I brought them home. I didn’t want you to come home and crash without eating anything.”
“How —”
“Dana called me when she decided to send you home,” you said simply.
“Meddler,” he mumbled halfheartedly.
“She cares about you,” you said. “I’m making you a stew. Go shower, I already set out comfy clothes on the bed.”
“Wait,” he said, “how was your day?”
“Good, I’ll tell you once you’re showered and full. Pip pip! Off like a bunny!”
He let the steam loosen up some of the gunk in his head, then slipped into his fleecy clothes. With the day’s stress washed off, the exhaustion was settling in. Not the frantic, nagging exhaustion being at work gave him, but the safe, warm, cozy exhaustion you brought. It was nice, because deep in his bones he knew he was safe, and this was where he would rest.
When he slouched back out to the living room, it was to find a steaming bowl of something delicious waiting for him on the coffee table, and the couch made up with bed pillows and blankets. You sat on the floor with your back to it, grading papers with concentration scrunching your face.
“Sit down, mister,” you said without looking up, jabbing a thumb behind you at the inviting set up. “And before you do anything, drink that entire glass of water.”
“Yes ma’am,” he croaked, collapsing readily, and grabbing the cup.
While he drank, Lisa wandered up to settle on his chest, purring. With protest, you scooched her down to his lap so you could replace the glass in Robby’s hands with the bowl. He still gave her some scratches in between bites.
“Good?” you asked, tucking the blanket up around him.
“Great,” he said. “Thank you, honey.”
You leaned back against his knee and kept grading, glancing backwards every so often to ensure he was still eating. It wasn’t until the bowl was completely empty that you set it aside, and pushed him back onto the stacked pillows.
“Get some rest,” you said, kissing his forehead.
“Hold on,” he said, clutching your hand with all his remaining strength. It wasn’t much, but you stayed perched next to him anyway. “You have to tell me about your day now.”
You smiled, and leaned against him. Your free hand went to his hair and began brushing it back in slow rhythmic motions.
“Alright,” you said, thinking. “Well, I think Tommy and Andre are finally friends again. They really let a silly tiff about a Kpop Demon Hunters pencil case go way too far. And I think the new book of the week is going to be The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear.”
By the time you had explained the plot of the book to him, both Robby and Lisa were fast asleep. You smiled fondly, pressed one last kiss to each of their heads, and turned back to your papers. With the roaring fire, Eloise lounging on top of the half-filled bookshelf, Harry trying to get a sniff of your dinner, and the love of your life safe and snoozing comfortably behind you, you were content.
You had to pinch yourself when you remembered that this was the norm. From now on, it would be you and your Mikey, Mikey and you, for all the years to come.
unfortunately…..i’m gonna need more robby x younger nurse headcanons. i loved reading the one you wrote about him being a choir boy 😭
💞Tags/Warnings💞: just plain fluff, age gap relationship, workplace relationship ( an HR nightmare, but.. 🤷🏻♀️ whatcha gonna do.. )
💞Plot💞: You know what they say about a doctor and his nurse…
💞Characters💞: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: The Doctor and his Nurse..
💞A/N💞: This is a sequel to my Robby HC!! You want context? Read that first ☺️ I really really love me some Robby 😜 so I hope you like it!!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“You know what they say about a doctor and his nurse…”
Y/N looks up from her charts.
It’s an outdated stereotype, sure, but she can’t stop her eyes from slipping over to one Dr. Robby as he tries hard to focus on the task at hand.
Betty had been in the middle of complimenting how in sync Y/N and Robby were as they worked. They’d gotten to the point of looks being their only form of communication.
Betty was retired now, sure, but she was still sharp. She remembered her days as a nurse. She’d share tales of the ‘old times’ that made Y/N’s heart oddly warm. She had a way of telling stories, and she’d been in the middle of one right now.
Dr. Franklin was the man’s name. According to Betty, she was his favorite nurse. Hence her little joke about a doctor and a nurse. It was a cliché, really.
A cliché Y/N was now living..
One that had been played out on every midday television drama her grandma used to watch while folding clothes.
“No. Can’t say I do..” Robby finally breaks the silence, giving a soft smile towards Betty as he breaks focus for just a second. But Y/N continues her staring. It’s as if she was trying to telepathically speak to him.
‘Robby. I rolled out of your bed this morning. You know what they say about a doctor and his nurse..’
She shakes her head after a moment or so, finding the idea silly. Of course he can’t hear her in his head.
But.. If that was the case.. Why was he refusing to look over at her?
It’d had been about three weeks since drinks together turned into an actual relationship, and the two were still keeping it casual for work. But outside of this place was a man who Y/N was very quickly starting to adore with her entire heart..
“Ankle looks better. I’d say to still take it easy though..” Robby says as he steps away from the bed now.
“Yes, yes, Mickey. Of course.” Betty says as she waves a hand. It entertains Y/N to say the older woman still treat Robby like he was the same six year old kid she watched run around playing pretend.
Deep down, she knew Robby adored Betty too. If not, he wouldn’t have made her come back here so he could personally check on her ankle.
“You could make sure I stay off foot if you come to service..” Betty begins slowly, a playfully sly smirk on her aged face. Y/N stiffens a giggle.
“I am a.. Very busy man, Betty..” Robby begins with the same old excuse. Betty waves her hands at him with a shake of her head.
“Please. Speak to him. Speak sense.” Betty says to Y/N now, making her quickly try to hide her amused smile.
“Dr. Robby is his own man..” She begins gently, making Betty give out a sharp ‘ha!’ in response.
“A man is never his own. A pretty face will always own him.” Betty declares simply, as if her 72 years of living has taught her that fact blatantly. Y/N hums gently, keeping that in mind as she eyes Robby’s bashful expression with a slight smirk.
“I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to turn my nurse against me..” Robby jokes now, voice and eyes warm as Betty smirks.
“Why? You know what they say about a doctor and his nurse..” She repeats playfully, a knowing glint in her eyes that makes Y/N blush a bit. The two excuse themselves after a bit. Y/N follows Robby out of the room as he lists the things to put into Betty’s aftercare report.
Y/N bites her lip as she mentally debates it before speaking. “You should consider taking her.” She finally says, breaking Robby from his medical ramble. Robby pauses, looking over at Y/N with a raised eyebrow.
“Taking her..” He trails off before it clicks. “Y/N I have not stepped foot into a synagogue in years..” He laughs in disbelief. As if taken aback that she’d even consider that.
“It’s clear she adores you, Robby. What’s the harm?” She asks gently as she holds her charts close to her chest while crossing her arms. Robby eyes her before looking elsewhere, the corner of his mouth twitching to show he’s weighing the pros/cons.
“You’re considering it?” Y/N asks, already knowing the answer. Robby looks back at her and sighs.
“Possibly.” He mutters, wanting to leave it at that. It makes Y/N chuckle a bit.
“That is all I ask.” She says sweetly as she gives him.. that look. He takes a moment to really check her out before sighing deeply.
“You really gotta stop using that look on me at work..” He notes quietly as he rubs his face a bit. It makes Y/N smile more as she straightens up again.
“Yeah, well. You know what they say about a doctor and his nurse..” Y/N quietly teases as she walks past him, swaying her hips a bit. Mostly because she knows he’s watching…
*
*
*
Now enjoy these headcanons:
• Robby is easily distracted by Y/N. Somehow, his eyes always find her. Doesn’t matter who’s in front of him or in the middle of talking to him, if he spots her walking around or even just working at her desk, he’ll watch her. He says it’s to keep track of ‘everyone’, but really it’s just to make sure she’s okay.. •
• Robby’s reason for pulling Y/N on to every one of his cases started off as him liking how capable and attentive she was with the patients, but soon changed to him realizing he just does his best work when she’s by his side.. •
• His go to when he knows she’s feeling off or overwhelmed throughout the day about something is “All good?” because he knows she can’t lie to him. Her voice will always give her away. Her go to is “Robby. Eyes.” because his eyes hide nothing from her. He knows that, so the first few times she’d do that, he’d purposefully look over her head. (He’s six foot one, the man is tall enough to do that.) She’d lightly swat at him to make him stop though. •
• Quiet hallway conversations are their love language. It’s the only moments of the day they get to really speak to each other. Even if they’re just going over a case, they both use those quiet moments to secretly recharge with each other. •
• He’s always “accidentally” brushing up against Y/N or putting hands on her while he “squeezes past”. Hands find her waist automatically every time without fail. Jack has noticed every time and teased him before to “cool it”, but he swears it’s a simple accident. It isn’t. He needs that physical touch sometimes. •
• “Take five” is Robby’s favorite line to use when one of his own is getting frustrated and/or overwhelmed by a case, but Y/N is the only person to ever say that to him and have him actually listen.. •
• Y/N’s first three weeks on the job were spent with Robby physically leading her around the ED instead of him verbally telling her where to go. A quick hand on the shoulder here, a slight tug to the wrist there. And even now that she knows her way around, he can’t help but move her out of ways and physically guide her. •
• That physically guiding doesn’t stop in the ED. Y/N can keep her brain off while out with Robby because his hand is constantly on the small of her back, leading her to and from places. •
• Their first ever fight happened when Y/N was involved in a code ‘Hula-Hoop’. Robby had been in the middle of a conversation with Dana and when he heard McKay yell out the code word, he realized with a sinking feeling that Y/N wasn’t in eyesight. He ran like hell to the room. He blew up on her in front of everyone, but it was out of fear. Fear of losing her or her getting hurt. She had ignored him the rest of the shift and, later that night, he had to really grovel in order to get back on her good side.. •
• The age difference was a reason for his hesitation. He thinks Y/N definitely deserves better than him. In fact, it took Y/N threatening to pull sex completely off the table for him to finally agree to do it with the lights on. It also took her threatening to never speak to him again for him to finally get soft in their relationship. Now his favorite things to do while they’re alone is lay his head on her stomach and have her brush her fingers through his hair. He also loves exchanging personal favorites with her. Now, Y/N loves Bon Jovi and Good Fellas and Robby surprisingly is an Ariana Grande fan. Who knew.. •
synopsisyou and john have always been cut from the same cloth, close in the way only you two could be working in the ER. but what john doesn't know- your deep love for him- can't hurt him. only you. but if you have to hear him love a girl that isn't you one more time, your heart might not make it.
warningsheavy angst, language, sex allusions
authornotei've been binge watching ER, I'm obsessed, my god its so good and of course, I love John Carter. i don't know if anyone else will care but i have to write for this man
“John! Oh John!”
John. Oh John. It was a mantra prayed upon next door to your room. It was religious, almost every other night the calling for his name.
It was damn right sinful.
When John had invited you to move in with him almost six months ago you thought all your problems were solved. You would no longer lose rent on a stuffy apartment you didn't even like, being kept up by frat parties that seemed to run all night. You'd share with Carter, be able to study together as you had since starting as med students together, be able to help each other out and share the rent.
“Oh my god, John!”
You hadn't thought about the noise. The moaning, the thudding of beds, the awkward greeting of the new girl of the week in the mornings where all you wanted to do was drink coffee and get ready for the day in peace.
Your bed was next to Carters, a wall separating the two of you.
This girl was blonde, slim, not from the hospital from what you could tell. They'd stumbled in at eleven and you'd heard him jingle at the door so you hid yourself away, running from the living room you paid rent for to offer them privacy and peace that they never offered you.
“John...” the girl had whined, you imagined her hands crawling up his chest, peeling off his coat and scarf, dragging her lips over his neck.
“Wait, wait, wait-” you heard John, probably making sure the coast was clear before he took her on the sofa. The sofa you'd paid for! He'd called your name, checking where you were. Gathering you'd hidden yourself away he carried on.
It wasn't the first night the sound of fucking next door had kept you up, in fact you'd lost count of the many of women John preferred to you. Slowly your patience was failing. Sleep as an intern in the ER was precious- like a gem stone. You shouldn't have been losing it in your own apartment.
You heard the mumble of medical procedures and thought you were in a nightmare.
“John, what are you doing?” the girl asked.
You knew what he was doing. To make himself last and drag on the night he thought about medical notes, the books you studied piled on the coffee table.
“Making it last,” you heard him say.
You wished he wouldn't.
When the low moaning started again you couldn't take it.
It was somewhere past four but you'd never known Mark Greene to turn away help.
“What are you doing here? You're not on till seven,” said Carol as you threw on your doctors coat, swinging on the stethoscope.
Outside it was dark, starting to rain and you'd drank two coffees on the way in. You weren't feeling awake but the hustle of the ER and the calls of trauma were better to hear than the moaning and slams of bed.
“Couldn't sleep, thought I'd get in early, early bird catches the.... something,” you said, eyeing the board. Abdominal pains, sores, vision blurs, the usual. There were plenty not taken up with a doctor.
“Couldn't sleep huh?” Carol asked, as familiar with the drill as you were.
“Nop.”
“And what was her name this time?”
“I didn't catch it.”
You didn't know if it was a head nurse thing or just a Hathaway thing but Carol had caught the feelings you had for John maybe even before you had.
She'd watch the two of you come in as fresh faced med students aiming for two different things. The two of you worked well on cases. You learnt how to take a more direct approach through Carters determination in surgery and John learnt to take closer care with his patients with your attentiveness in a pedes rotation.
“God, men are pigs,” said Carol.
“What have I done now?” asked Ross as he passed, leaving and picking up a chart. “You're in early,” he observed.
“I'm dedicated.”
“Wanna check out a cough in five?”
“I'll be there.”
You didn't need to stare to see Carol and Doug share a look. As you'd taken an interest in pedes work in the ER you'd been brought under Dough Ross's rather large wings. And if you were around Ross by proximity you were around Carol. And if you were around them Carter wasn't far.
It was a chain of terrible love stories.
“Eventually you'll get written up for overtime,” said Carol.
“A hospital that hates over-achievers, damn.”
“You should just talk to him.”
You turn to her, leaning on the counter. “And tell him what? I hate him having sex?”
“Well if he could be a little quieter,” she suggested.
“It's not him, it's the women.”
Carol was silent as you distracted yourself with the charts. You knew what she would say next, you knew what you would say after that and it would continue as it had for months. “You should tell him how you-”
“-no.”
“What's the worst that could happen?”
“He says he doesn't feel the same way, tells everyone, I'm left embarrassed, I lose my apartment, need I go on?”
Her eyes rolled. “No I get it.”
“Hey!” Ross called out. “Cough! Five! Let's go!”
You followed him on and used what you'd come to the Er to get: distractions. You followed Ross around from patient to patient, got called in on a trauma and even had time to change the the filters in the coffee machine before you were faced with John.
He was bright eyed, smiling with his dimples. Heck, you were even convinced his eyes lit up seeing you, with your coat hanging off, hair already falling out of its hold and he'd just left some blonde babe. Maybe she'd dropped him off at the hospital and he'd beg a lift back with you. Or he'd told her to let herself out the apartment.
Carter had no right to look at you like that.
“Hey,” he smiled. “You get in early? I thought you started at seven with me?”
“Oh yeah... I was paged in early.”
“Trauma?”
“Cough.”
He laughed. “You were paged in for a cough.”
“I know can you believe it,” you had tried to make it sarcastic, wanted it to seem like a passing comment but your lips didn't move into a smile and it fell weak into your stomach.
John leant next to you at the counter, tilting his body in a way to try to look at you. “You okay?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Something's up, what?”
Maybe it was how close you’d worked, going from students to interns. Or it was your living together which made you both understand each other with small looks.
Clearly you didn’t know each other well enough, otherwise he’d note the bags under your eyes or the way your body didn’t lean into his like you used to.
John jutted his hip against yours with a chuckle. “Talk to me, c’mon.”
“I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” You admitted.
How stupid could men be?
John didn’t even catch on to what you were laying down. “How about we do something tonight? Catch a movie? Get some dinner?”
You and John used to do that sort of thing often. When you'd first moved in together it was all watching films with take out, taking it in turns to order your favourites. You could hardly recall what the films were about because the two of you spoke throughout them. It took a month then you knew everything there was to know about him.
But that was almost two years ago and things were different.
You were in love with him.
He had no idea.
Instead he had love for hours a night and that seemed to do him fine.
John was still waiting for an answer. “Dinner? Movie?”
You looked at him. Over his shoulder you spotted Carol, shaking her head. “Dinner sounds great.”
John's face broke out into a smile. “Yes!” he cheered. His lips pressed to your head quick, gone before you could get a feel of him.
“Carter!” Benton called.
Benton's ordering and bossing around of Carter had grated on his nerves for months but you'd never seen him smile so wide and all but skip to him.
Maybe things weren't being so bad.
“Why would you agree to go to dinner?” asked Carol.
Why would you? Because even if he wasn't your lover, he was still your friend. You'd take that. “Was I supposed to say no?”
“You're gonna hurt yourself,” she said.
But sadly you had hope, which was probably the only thing keeping you in the state you were in.
“It's just dinner with a friend,” you said, picking up a patients chart, any chart.
Carol clocked her head at you. “It's not though is it?”
“To him it is.”
John appeared at your side, hands bracing your arms as he leant over you. For a moment you panicked, imagining that he heard it all. His grin said different. “I'll book us Nona's, your favourite Italian, I'll get it for eight.”
He disappeared, rushing around the corner. You got a last look at his scrubs and gown.
When you turned back to Carol she'd gone too.
“And so I said to him, that's not his Appendix, that's his Kidney.”
Johns laughter bounced around the restaurant. As promised he’d booked your favourite Italian, a table in the window lit by a candle and golden lights around you.
There was an empty plate from a tiramisu you’d shared and several empty glasses of wine dotted around from the evening you’d shared, lipstick of your stained glasses you’d had.
John had entertained you all night, telling jokes, talking about work. His eyes had been lit up since you both sat down, talking animated and never letting a moment of quiet. He’d even dressed up, supporting a suit as if this was some kind of date.
With the lights down low and dragging your fingers over your glass of wine, you almost imagined it was.
The waiter came by and John waved him down.
“Another bottle of white,” he ordered, sharing the last dregs of the bottle between your two glasses.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk,” you joked.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he laughed. “I’ve missed you. It’s just nice that we get to do this, I didn’t see you at all yesterday. You were in bed when I got home.”
Home. Home with his date.
“We’ve been… busy,” you said.
Johns smile broke but only a fraction, some sort of disappointment floating by and marring his expression. “Yeah, I-I guess we have.”
There was a flicker of silence, the first sort there’d been in the night.
The wine was delivered.
“We should do this once a week,” suggested John, alight with the idea.
You laughed. “What, with our schedule?”
“Okay.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Once a month, surely we can manage that, right? We’re capable people, capable doctors.”
There was more laughter, dulling the ache you’d been carrying.
At some point Johns hand had come down and touched yours.
You’d expected him to pay your hand friendly, move it away and make another crack at a joke.
His hand lingered. Stayed, his fingers stayed slowly moving against the back of your hand.
John watched as his fingers drew lazy circles over your skin. There was a smile playing on his lips.
You didn’t have it in you to move away. You chuckled lightly. “What are you doing?”
John looked at you, his other hand coming up to cup his chin as he rested there. “I’ve missed you.”
It was sincere, almost loving.
You laughed it away. “You’ve said that already.”
“What? A guy can’t say it again?”
“A guy can’t say but you…” you trailed off.
“I what?” asked John pointedly, tilting his head to get a better look of you.
It was almost cruel how unaware he was, or maybe acted he was. The thought that he knew your feelings that were oh so obvious to some and were using them against you made you feel sick.
You slipped your hand out of his and took a sip of your wine. “Nothing.”
“No, what?” he asked, nudging himself closer to the table. “What were you gonna say?”
You drained the glass of wine and picked up the bottle, pouring yourself more while John watched and waited. You laughed, doing your best to brush it off. “I dunno what I was gonna say, slipped by me.”
You could tell he didn't believe you. He seemed to like to chose when he wanted to believe you.
“I-” He'd just started to speak when his gaze drifted over your shoulder and widened at the door. “Oh god, don't turn around, don't look- don't look!”
Frowning you did just what he said not to do, wine still in hand.
Carter was busy slouching in his chair, trying to hide.
A girl walked in with two of her friends, peeling off their coats and handing them to the staff at the door. They were all large smiles and tanned skin, dresses that hugged perfectly and hands manicured. They were alight with life and not drowned in exhaustion like you.
You looked back to John and didn't even have to guess and why he was hiding from them. Your brows rose at him.
“I went to school with her,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. “She has a massive crush on me.”
“Does she?” at least you weren't the only fool to love him.
John nodded, the front of his hair moving as he did.
You looked again and as if she sensed you, the girl turned.
“No... no... no....” chanted John as she seemed to recognise him, even half swallowed by the table as he was trying to be.
“John Carter!” the girl greeted with her arms out and her wide smile.
John was polite in standing and hugging her.
You were polite in occupying yourself with the wine.
“Oh my god, look at you it's been so long!” she said, pulling away. Her hand smoothed the jacket of his suit. “God when I last saw you you were winning horses races on... oh, what was your horses name, again?”
“Marigold,” said John.
“Marigold, that's right!” she laughed, hand slapping at his bicep and lingering.
You snorted at the obvious affection she was laying on. At least (you hoped) you were slightly more incredulous.
They both looked to you.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt,” she apologised.
John went to speak but you spoke before he had the chance.
“You didn't, actually, join us if you like,” you invited.
John's face fell. “What?”
“Oh, I mean I'm here with friends but, hey, what's one drink between old friends?” she pulled up a chair effortlessly, setting it between you and Carter.
Carter himself lingered up on his feet, pulling his jacket close and slotting a button in. He looked at you, almost with some betrayed ideas in his eyes. He sat down, deflated but his old friend from school - Samantha- was already taking his wine glass and filling it. She was already talking about the first time she met John.
You didn't know why you'd decided to interrupt your own night with him. Just as you didn't know why John seemed to perturbed that you had.
Two days later he was at it again.
“John! Oh, John!”
You didn't even get a glance at this one, you had no idea who it was. The old friend from the restaurants or a friend of hers that had joined you later in the night. Maybe it was patient or a friend or family of patients. It could've even been the new intern that had started. You didn't know.
They were all blending into one.
“John! John! John!”
You'd tried putting on headphone from you walk man. You'd tried smothering yourself with your cushion. You'd tried every trick under the sun but it was as if the sounds of pleasure had buried itself in your bones. Even if you couldn't hear it, you knew it was there and it was enough in your bones to have you tossing and turning.
“H, stands for hemolysis, the- the break down of red blood cells-”
You threw your covers off. It was nearing three a.m. The ER could always use an extra pair of hands. That's what you told yourself as you pulled on clothes in the dark, desperate to get out the apartment before you crawl out of your skin.
Perhaps turning on the light would have been beneficial.
You pulled up your pants, jumping to do so but sliding on a lose sock. You fell, hurtling to the ground and trying to catch yourself on the desk had only resulted in banging your head on the side.
For a moment, lying in the dark of your room with a new ache in your head you thought maybe you were concussed because there was suddenly no noise. No nothing.
“John-”
“- wait, shh, shh-”
Nope, still there.
You finally got your pants on without any more injury and left your room.
There were to empty beer bottles at the kitchen counter. You noticed them as you pulled kitchen roll onto your head, pulling it back you pulled open the fridge to check in the light. A little blood.
All the more reason to get to the ER.
You were just fetching your bag from the side when the squeak of a door behind you alerted you.
“Hey, what's going on?” John spoke up.
You didn't dare turn around. You knew if you did you'd find a recently fucked-out Carter, maybe his friend hanging off his arm like his other friends had two nights before at Nona's.
He called out your name.
“Nothing, John,” you dismissed, swinging your bag over your shoulder.
“Where are you going, it's like, three am?”
You didn't answer.
“Did the hospital call?”
“Just go back to bed, Carter.”
It could have been the head split, the fact you were running on little sleep as it was or that John was so insisting he cared when the noise of you falling had clearly broken him out of his blissed state.
You never called him Carter. If you did, it was a bad sign.
“Wait- wait- jus' a second, hold on-”
You turned, catching a glimpse of him retreating back in his room.
You dabbed at your cut again, seething at the pain it brought.
You doubted stitches were needed but maybe some glue. Heck, maybe you could find an on-call room and sleep off the wound.
John's door opened again and he was rushing out, tugging a shirt on with joggers already pulled up. He flicked the light on and you watched his eyes widen at the cut as if you'd been shot. “Woah-woah, hey-hey-”
“Leave it, John.”
“What happened? What'd you do?” he rushed to you, sliding on the floor as he cupped your cheeks, checking the cut in the light.
His clothes hung limp on him and you didn't even have to look close to see the blue and purple bruises at his neck, still fresh, a thin trail of kisses not yet settled. There was no slouch in him like you knew there to be in you. He was alert. The kind of attention sex required.
He was using all that energy- the energy he was stealing from you- to asses your wound.
“What were you doing, jumping-jacks?” he tried to joke.
You didn't feel like laughing. “Can you leave it, please?”
The crinkle at his eyes at his own teasing dropped. He became as dull as you felt.
“No, no I- I can't leave it,” he said, serious. “You're bleeding, you're hurt, what happened?”
You sighed. “I was dressing in the dark, I'm a clutz.”
He shook his head. “Why were you dressing at three am?”
“Because I'm going into work.”
“We're not on nights.”
“Then I'm going in for fun.”
“Like the other night when you were paged in for a cough that didn't exists?” he said. “Mark told me, so what's going on?”
You had hoped Mark Greene- your mentor- wouldn't be noticing the slow falling apart of your love life. No such luck there. “Nothing,” you told him. “Nothing is going on.”
“You running off in the night is something, in my books at least,” said John, stern. His arms fell to his side. “So, you want to tell me?”
You'd just done a thirty-six hour shift and was only reward with two hours sleep. You didn't have it in you to be kind to him while your own chest felt like it was caving in on itself. “No, I don't.”
John scoffed. “Well, I've got all night, I can wait.”
“No, you don't.”
He frowned.
At that moment his latest peeked out of the room. She'd had the decency to wrap herself up in his thin white sheet at least. Her hair was a mess, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She genuinely seemed sorry to be interrupting but clearly wanted to get back to the high she was chasing.
“Hey, John, is everything okay?”
She was so un-like you. She was everything you weren't. You didn't even know who she was but she wasn't you and seeing her coming out of John's room, wrapped up in his sheet and smell and faint marks of him you were reminded of that.
You didn't know why she- an odd number in his list of conquests- broke your heart. But it did.
You chocked on a sob, turning away from them both.
John's neck snapped to you at the noise. “Hey, hey-” his hands were soft on your forearms but you shrugged him off.
“John?” asked the girl again, a lazy drawl of her voice piercing your heart.
“Just, go back in, I'll- I'll be a second,” he said, dismissively.
It some how made it all the much worse because he didn't care for the other girls feelings. It was nothing serious to him, it never was. If it was serious, if he brought a girl back and took painstaking effort to introduce the two of you maybe you could pull on a brave face, pretend to be happy for him.
But he was constantly throwing it all in your face.
“John?” the girl asked again.
“Meg, seriously, I just need to sort this out-”
Sort it out? Like you were something on a check list?
You'd managed to make it to the front door before John caught you.
“Hey, wait! No- jus'-” his hand slammed down over you on the door, closing it before you could escape. “You're scaring me now, what's going on?”
“Nothing,” your own voice betrayed you, cracking as tears escaped you.
You rushed to wipe them away but John beat you to it.
“Hey, hey.” His thumb swept at the tears, voice laced in worry and pain. “Why are you crying? What's happened?”
You knew yourself well enough from the years of stress of medical school, from losing patients that were making promising progress and dying, from months of hearing John love on a girl that wasn't you to know when you couldn't trust your voice. All you could do was duck your head and sniff.
John was still close enough for you to smell the other girls perfume on him. “Why- why don't we sit down? I'll make you some tea.”
“I don't want tea,” you chuckled dryly.
John seemed startled. Tea was always what you offered him after the hard days. “Coffee?”
“I just want to go,” you admitted.
“Go? Go where?” he asked, voice almost as broken as yours. “You want to leave, you want to get out of here?”
He asked like he was almost understanding where you were coming from.
You nodded.
“Can I come with you?”
You shook your head.
John nodded with tight lips, like his own heart was breaking. “Okay them, I- I can't let you go. Not alone.”
You cried. “John-”
“It's three am it's dark out, I'm not letting you go anywhere alone-”
“John-”
“And frankly you're scaring me right now, I can't stand seeing you like this-”
“- I just don't want to be near you right now.”
The confession hung between the two of you like a hook caught in your hearts and tearing you both down. It was one thing you hurting because of John's actions but it wasn't like you'd told him how you felt. So really, you were hurting him for nothing.
“Okay, okay,” he said calmly. Turing for a second to gather himself up, patting the back of his hair down. “Okay you don't have to be anywhere near me but can you at least stay? So I know you're safe. I'll- I'll hide in my room or something. Out there, it's-it's not and I know you hate me right now but you will give me a heart attack if you go-”
“- I don't hate you,” you uttered.
“Well you just said you don't want to be near me,” he pointed out, the first angry notes in his voice. He took a deep breath and took a step closer, his hands clenched in together. John bent a little in the knees to get a look at you. “I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”
He hadn't. Nothing he'd done had been with you in mind.
John laughed at himself. “It's me, for Christ sake, I'd never do anything to hurt you, okay? You've got to believe me. You know me.... you know me!”
The door to his room opened again and in the dim light the both of you saw his girl- Meg- wander out. She was in one of his old grey shirts, flaunting herself with jutted out hips. She threw herself down on the sofa and watched, waiting.
You wiped your tears away, telling yourself to get a grip. “Can we just- can we do this later, John, please?”
You'd thought the tears and begging would have been enough but John looked at you, studying all over you. He took in a deep breath like he was getting his confidence from somewhere.
He shook his head, staring at you. “No. Okay, wait- just wait for for a second, one second.”
You did. You waited one second and watched as he returned to Meg, crouching at the sofa and talking low to her. He even put his hand on hers and spoke very calmly and clearly.
Whatever he was saying Meg seemed to not like, or really understand, her eyes flickered back up to yours accusingly.
That's when you slipped out the door and hailed down a taxi to take you to the ER.
Carol had offered to help but you said no, so did Lydia, practically following you down with the right kit to take care of the cut on your head. Genie had offered with a kind understanding smile but you'd hidden yourself away on an empty bed with a mirror.
Mark was the only one you'd let stay in the room, even then you weren't letting him get close enough to help. “We should get a CT, at least.”
“Geez, it's just a small cut,” you chuckled, putting the thin strips of tape over it to help bring it together. It was the sort of thing that wasn't even medical. Just common sense.
“Better safe than sorry,” he said.
“And do you want to be the one to tell Wheever you ordered un-neccary tests and wasted hospital rescourse and money?”
You'd thought that would have been enough to deter him but instead Mark leaned forward.
“Yes.”
Damn.
“As chief resident I don't have to have you working till you get the all cleared.”
You huffed. You could always find an on-call room to catch up on sleep but you feared you'd re-play John's heartbreak over again if you did. “Fine, book me the CT,” you said, slinging your stephscope back around your neck and pocketing your pocket mirror.
“Thank you,” said Mark and with one last look of conserved worry, he left.
But the door swung open a second later and Carter waltzed in, hands in the pocket of his lab coat. He paused and looked at you, as if you were a patient of his.
It was going on four. He'd followed you in.
You opened your mouth to say something. A sorry, maybe. An apology for ruining his sex time and for crying.
John beat you to it. “I know you said you didn't want to be around me but I'm sorry, I-” he laughed at the very idea that was true. He knew you too well for that. “I don't believe you.”
“What do you want me to do about that?”
“I want you to talk to me.” John grabbed the stool close and sat on it, pushing himself close in front of you like any attentive doctor would. He grabbed your hands. “Talk to me.”
You wondered what you should have told him first. That out of desperation for your well-being Chuni had offered up her spare room at her place till you could get a place of your own. That Mark was willing to move around the schedule and face Wheever's wrath in doing so. That you couldn't take one more night of not being the one John chose.
“I'm sorry for being mad earlier, at the apartment,” you said first, looking down to where he held your hands. His knuckles were bleached white from the tightness he held onto you to. “I'm not- I'm not mad at you.”
His body sagged in relief. “You're not?”
“No.”
“Oh - thank god.” His body curved over yours, breath fanning the envelope of your hands.
“It's just me, it's just stuff,” you dismissed.
“No, it's not just stuff,” he said, equally as dismissive. “If it's getting you up in the middle of the night, ending in you being hurt- I mean... we can sort it.”
His thumb was a delicate tough as he brushed over your cut.
It didn't feel as painful when he did.
John's gaze lingered on your cut before looking back at your eyes. There was nothing to indicate he knew what this was really about, only a small hurting sorrow that he didn't know how to help you.
It was enough to hurt you all over again.
But maybe pulling the band off at once was better than a slow, agonising pull.
You squeezed his hands. “John, I'm moving out.”
The words were like heavy stones sinking in the bottom of a lake. You saw his expression blanked, his hands release yours slowly and his face pale as if the world was ending. His eyes searched yours trying to detect a hint of amusement.
He found nothing.
Mark popped his head back in, saving you. “CT's ready for you.”
“Thanks Mark,” you said as he nodded once and left again.
John hadn't moved, frozen in place. He stared past your body.
“I'll um... I've got to go...” it was the cowards way out but the way you saw it you'd been tough a long time, lying in bed and crying yourself to sleep. Letting yourself feel pathetic for doing so when you had so much more in life to give it meaning. If you could just get away enough, create some distance so you didn't feel trapped you could at least keep his hand in friendship. At least still have the privilege of looking in his eyes everyday and know, just for a second, you once had a chance for it all with him.
When you got back to the door and looked back, John was still on the stool, eyes watering.
Three hours later your shift officially started but you were already four patients deep, a case in pedes with Ross, a trauma that had gone up to the OR, an elderly man with a nasty fall to his hip and possible schizophrenia. Your last was a young girl, complaining of stomach craps. You suspected pregnancy and was thinking as much when you glanced out the door to the front desk.
John was staring through the door at you, Carol at his side trying to talk to him also staring in at you.
It wasn't a good sign in any case, not when Carol knew everything and John knew so little. It didn't help he looked wrecked. Tie askew, hair sticking up in the way that indicated hands running through it in stress.
Then he rounded the corner and disappeared from view.
“Leanne, have you been sexually active recently?”
“With my boyfriend.”
“And how long ago was your last period?”
“Two weeks.”
“Are you late?”
“Not yet.”
You jotted it all down on the chart. “Ok, we're gonna get some blood work, start you on an IV and get a urine sample in-”
The door swung open and you and Maleek who was helping on the case looked up.
John stood there, breathless like he'd ran the ten or so paces it took to get here.
“John?” you asked.
“You love me?”
The world stilled. There was suddenly nothing but you and him. Him looking at you astonished, like he couldn't believe it. At a loss of words from the very idea.
“I'm sorry- what?”
He took a heavy step forward, a deep inahle seething. “You love me.”
It wasn't an accusation the second time.
You looked back to the fifteen year old and Maleek who seemed as startled as you. “Can we not- I'm with a patient-”
“It's okay, I got this,” said Maleek, stepping in the way.
And John Carter was still standing there, catching his breath and staring at you.
You, with little other choice, barged past him.
You heard Carol calling out for you as you marched around trying to find a private corner to have the dreaded confrontation.
“I'm sorry!” she called.
John was hot on your heels. “Don't apologise, I deserved to know!”
Benton had joined the crew of on lookers at the desk. “Do I want to know?” you heard him ask.
“Probably not,” Mark replied.
Exam room two was empty and you held the door open for Carter. He marched in, hands running over his hair again as he mumbled to himself. You closed the door behind, locking it and closing the blinds because you knew everyone was going to try to listen to your world crumble.
You gave yourself a two second head start in catching your breath before turning to him.
John stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, waiting. His lip tucked under his teeth. “You love me.”
“Who told you?”
“Carol,” he said. “I was so worried about you I asked if she knew what was going on but turns out everyone did. You know, I could've asked Doug, Mark, Susan, Genie, basically everyone I mean- was I the last one to know?”
“There was nothing for you to know.”
“Really?” he scoffed.
“Yes!” you snapped. “It was my feelings, you didn't need to know them!”
“Yes, I did! I needed to know!”
“Why?”
“Why? Because- because it's me!”
You groaned, frustration ripping through the tears you had cried that morning. “What does it matter, John? You don't love me!”
“Of course I love you!”
“Not in the way I love you, not like that!”
“Yes I do!” he all but screamed.
The room fell silent. You could hear the labour of his breath and the wheels and running outside the room. A trauma was called in yet nobody was rescuing you or John.
He stood there, exposed.
Yes I do!
It was the heat of the argument, you told yourself, as you shook the idea out of you. For a second you almost believed him.
John deflated, watching as you hugged yourself, as you didn't rush to him or smile at his confession. “Do you... do you think I don't love you?”
You levelled your gaze on him.
As if he could see the break of your heart through the windows to your soul he shattered.
“Oh my god. You think I don't love you?”
You lifted your shoulders in a tired shrug. “Was I supposed to believe you did? You fuck a different girl every night while I'm on the other side of the damn wall.” The words come out bitten and finally the penny dropped for John.
The sleepless nights, the times he knew you were tired, the way you hid around every corner, in every room. Slowly he fit all the pieces together and he didn't like what he was seeing.
“That wasn't- they were- they were nothing,” he stuttered.
It was your turn to scoff. “Yeah, it never sounded like nothing-”
“You have to believe me, okay, you- you have to-” he begged, rushing in front of you. His hands took yours without your offer and he held it close to him, over his chest where you could feel his racing heart by the palm of your hand. “- you can't- you have to-”
He clenched his jaw.
You waited for more. “Can't what?”
John screwed his eyes shut, uttering a curse before opening his eyes. They pleaded onto you. “You can't think they meant anything over you. You can't,” he said so definitely you almost believed him. Almost.
“You're not making sense.”
“I know- I- I know,” he said, moving closer to you. He rested his head on your shoulder and you didn't have the strength to move. There was no smell of any other girl, only your shampoo he used in his hair. You could feel the tremble of his body. “This isn't how I wanted this to go.”
You were still, like you were a bunny in the jaws of a lion.
John pulled back and you were shocked at the redness of his eyes, at the tears threatening to spill. “When I dreamt about this I dreamt roses and a better declaration,” he chuckled at himself.
“I'm glad you find this really amusing, John, but I-”
“I don't- I don't,” he said at once. But he still chuckled dryly. “I just think I've messed up my whole life and I- I don't know how to fix this.”
You weren't sure what he was saying because he couldn't be talking about whatever was going on between the two of you. Frankly, you weren't sure what was going on. There was confessions hanging in the air like dirty laundry and tears from him that you didn't know what to do with. None of it made sense.
Your brain went to the only sense it could make.
“You've ruined your life?” you asked, full of concern for him. “What? Is one of the girls pregnant?”
John swiped his hands over his face, roughly. “No. No, I've just realised I fucked everything up with you.”
You stared at him and laughed. “And that's your entire life ruined?”
Carter nodded earnestly.
He loved you? He was insisting he did. Looking at you like he did.
A fist grabbed your heart and squeezed. You counted every girl you'd met through him and tried to add it up to love. It only made your head hurt and you knew it had nothing to do with the cut.
“I can't- I can't do this right now,” you said. “I have patients. So do you.”
“Can we talk? Tonight. Can we- can we talk? Please. Back home,” he begged, voice quiet like you'd never heard him before. “Please don't leave me.”
You wanted to argue there was nothing to leave. That even if you were going to go you still had a room of things to pack and sort. “Okay, fine, tonight.”
For the rest of the day you and John avoided each other, only working side by side on traumas. It was the only clue anyone got about the two of you. Nobody had dared ask what was going on but as you threw yourself into work and John got back on the floor after a thorough self-pity party they were all smart enough to guess it didn't go well.
“So, you're talking?” asked Carol at the end of your shift as you finished passing off your charts.
“Tonight, yeah.”
“That's good, isn't it?”
You huffed, finding your bag. “He says he loves me, Carol.”
She didn't know whether to smile or not. “Yeah, I think he does.”
“So what were the girls?”
“Distractions? A bit of fun? Men don't always have to make sense. Even if they are in love,” she told you, knowing all too well the the ins and outs of men and stupid choices through Doug Ross and their famous on and off relationship. “But give him a chance, he might surprise you.”
A chance.
You were tired. The kind that came from a long shift and little sleep. The kind you'd become accustom to that it didn't shock you when you felt it knocking on your door.
Were you too tired for a chance?
A throat cleared behind you and Carol disappeared from your side.
John stood in front of you, sheepish, with a bouquet in hand. They were your favourite flowers. “For you.”
Ignoring the audience that was trying (and failing) at being subtle, you took them.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, shy, in a way you hadn't seen him be since the both of you first started in the ER.
Nobody knew what to say next.
“Can I, um, can I take you home now?”
You could have been petty and told him you'd catch the subway back. Or that you'd hail a cab but you were both going the same way and you'd end up in your living room, talking, one way or another.
The car ride was quiet with John trying to find a radio station that didn't grate on him and ended up in silence.
When he pulled up in front of your apartment building he rushed out the car like it was on fire. He pulled open your door before you got the chance and helped you with your bag and bouquet.
In the apartment it was just as un-touched as it had been in the morning.
You didn't realise until you saw it so that you'd been expecting a lingering guest.
But there was only signs of you and John.
He was watching you while he set both your things down. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, no thanks I think I should be sober for this,” you said. Amicable ground was trying to be found, keeping your voice neutral was the best you could do. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, no.”
The silence was invasive. An un-wanted guest.
You would start it, as you had with all your messed up feelings. You could finish it even if it hurt. “If you love me what were all the girls?”
John seemed to leap at the chance to defend himself. “Nothing. They were nothing, they were-” he paused, taking time to think about his next words. “They were just distractions. Meaningless. To get you out of my mind.”
“Cheap, John.” It was almost word for word what Carol said.
“Nothing I say can defend myself, I'm not trying to defend myself I'm trying to tell you the truth. I need you, and if I've ruined this I'm not letting you go without fighting.”
He approached you, giving you space and time to step back or flinch away. You didn't.
“I've loved you since I met you. Ever since you came up to me thinking I was a doctor and knew where labs were, I knew it. Love at first sight- if you think that's bullshit- I don't care because I knew it. But you made it clear, very clear you were here to be the best doctor you could be and I wanted that for you, I still do- I always will,” he said.
You remembered John years ago, tailored white coat and hopeful. You'd gone up to him because you were supposed to meet Doctor Greene in labs and had no idea where that was and he was the first person in a white coat and clipboard you'd seen.
You did twelve hours next to him that day, competing on stitches and sutures.
“You know, I had an apartment when I heard you were looking to move in with someone, cheap rent and that,” he said, laughing at himself. “I moved out of that apartment and got another one within the week with a spare room just so I could ask you to move in.”
The apartment you were stood in.
“What?”
John nodded like he knew it was ridiculous. “It worked.”
You knew the Carter family was rich beyond imagination. You'd always wondered why John insisted on a room mate when he could afford to live comfortably without one.
“When you told me you were thinking of moving in with Anna god I had a heart attack, practically begged her to back off.”
John had helped you pack your old place, had carried your stuff with care into his apartment. It had looked so much like him, so lived in you wouldn't even think to wonder how long he'd lived there. You'd never have guessed only a week till you invaded with your stuff.
“It was the closest I could have you without having you.”
“Why didn't you tell me then?” you asked.
His face screwed up like he regretted it. He did, you guessed. “Because we both get tired. We get irritable. I hate failing patients and you take on so many that you can't give yourself a minute to think during the day.”
You weren't sure if it was a compliment or not.
“We work together, we live together, take patients together I figured we'd crash and burn if I told you how I felt,” he admitted. “And- god, help me- if I had to live only being your friend it was better than living without you at all.”
But you and John had never argued. The both of you had figured out how to silently read each other. How to know when he needed space or a hug and a shoulder to cry on. He knew when you needed an extra pair of hands or to just put a stupid movie on to fall asleep too.
The nights you'd fallen asleep in his arms on the sofa and woke in your bed. The mornings where you were on and he wasn't but he was still up to get you a coffee. The days you worked close together and ignored everyone else. It all meant something else now.
“The girls were to forget,” said John. “It didn't work, hardly. All I could think about was you. And I know- I know it's wrong. I had to recite medical facts to myself just to get the thought of you out my head.”
“I thought you did that to make it last for them,” you admitted, realising now how silly it's all been.
He shook his head. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd rather cut off my own hands than make you cry. And I've made you cry and hurt you so just get a knife and-” he made a chopping motion, chocking on a laugh.
John wiped his tears with the back of his hand and he looked at you. “If you want to leave then leave but I can't let you go. I'll be around, I'll be really hard to get rid of.”
The both of your rooms stood behind you. Both dark. Both separate cages for the two of you.
“All I could think about when I saw you with those girls was how much they were never like me,” you spoke, quietly. “I thought you'd never... you know... think of me that way.”
John's hands were firm on your cheeks, gaining your attention. “It was always about you. You didn't deserve that, you didn't, I wish I could take it all back and tell you. But why didn't you tell me?”
Why? Because you were afraid. Knowing what you knew now it didn't seem a strong enough argument.
You laughed. “Are we stupid?”
John grinned through his own tears. He nodded, caressing your cheeks. “I think we are, I think so.”
Your foreheads leaned against each other as you laughed.
Slowly, it faded as he pressed his forehead into yours harder.
“I'm so sorry, baby.”
“I'm sorry,” you said, hands coming to hold his face, feeling the rough stubble in your palms.
“No, no, you have nothing to be sorry for, it's me, it's me,” he uttered, eyes closing. “If I've ruined this forever please tell me.”
You couldn't say he didn't have a point. Working long hours made you both difficult at times but never to each other. You couldn't say the girls wouldn't hurt you for some time more, that your insecurities weren't something you had to work on yourself.
Yet, you couldn't say you could manage without him.
“I don't think you have, no.”
John breathed out against you. “No?”
“No,” you shook your head against his. “I think if we love each other-”
“- we do, we do-”
“ -we should at least give it a try.”
“I'm not trying with you, I'm not trying- I'm doing,” John assured you, hands still moving along your cheeks, your hair, anything to hold you. “I'm not messing it up again, I'm not. I'd propose right now if you asked me to.”
You pulled back enough to stare at him seriously. “Don't.”
“Okay, okay, I won't,” he said. When he opened his eyes back at you he smirked, a twitch to his brows. “At least not today.”
There was laughter in place of tears and you knew that if you slept tonight there'd be no need to hurt. Maybe, instead, time to heal.
“Not for a long time,” you told him.
John nodded along, mockingly going along with you. “But eventually right?”
“Maybe you should kiss me before we get that far?”
The laughter died quietly. You were slowly brought into his arms as they wrapped around you, hands moving down your back without going further.
There was a gentle breeze of his warmth and the tips of his hair tickled you as he tilted his head, your own neck moving back to meet him.
It was soft and sweet. A small press of his lips like he was too scared to break you. It was your hands around his neck that brought him closer, it was his whimper that moved him on as his hands held your waist. You stayed pressing into each other, promising silent things as you did, until you both recognised the burn in your lungs for breath.
“I love you,” he said, slowly dragging his lips against yours again.
Description- Some bullies never grow up, as Jack Abbot learns at his girlfriend's 15th high school reunion
CW- shitty high school bullies, mentions of mental health concerns and substance abuse (not reader's), age gap (20ish years), bully had a very inappropriate and illegal relationship as a teen
AN- I gave this a mega fluff ending because I wanted to and it just happened. I've also had to face the harsh truth that I can't spell reunion right on the first try
Tagging- @delicatedragonflower
“Are you sure this is what you want? You know, I would understand if you want to go alone, or bring a friend, someone-”
“I swear to god, if you say someone younger, I’ll take back every nice thought I was having about how you look in that suit.”
Jack smiled at that, his hands stilling on the white collar of his dress shirt where he’d been adjusting his tie, his gaze finding yours behind him in the mirror's reflection. The tie was a dark green that you’d picked out over a year ago, saying it made the green specks in his hazel eyes look even more beautiful than usual. He made it a point to wear it on every anniversary, every special occasion, which apparently now extended to keeping you company around the people who had tortured you in high school.
“Just nice thoughts?” he asked far too innocently, eyes crinkling mischievously at the corners.
You met his eyes where he stared at you in the reflection of the dresser mirror.
“Nice. And dirty.” You finished securing the strap of your high heeled shoe, standing up from the ottoman at the foot of the bed to walk closer. “Certainly nothing you’d have any complaints about,” you all but whispered, holding his gaze in the reflection as you pressed a slow kiss behind his ear.
“But,” you added, back to your normal volume as you stepped back, guiding him to turn and face you, still giving you that self satisfied smile as your hands ran over his broad shoulders, smoothing wrinkles in his suit jacket that weren’t there, “if you try to bail on me and send me to this thing alone…” You clicked your tongue derisively. “Well, I might just never talk to you again.”
Jack laughed, a full chest laugh that made you smile, his hands resting on your hips like they belonged there.
“Never again?” he repeated, only grinning, eyes creased at the corner, when you gave him a solemn nod. “Three years just gone like that? You’d move out tonight if I don’t go drink warm punch with people you spent a few years with as a teenager?”
You nodded without hesitation. “Definitely. And I would miss you so so dearly, especially with how handsome you look right now. So pretty please come with me so I can still come home with you.” You batted your eyelashes at him dramatically, giving him a sweet smile while he chuckled. It was never a real question and you both knew it. Jack would fly with you to New Zealand that night if you truly asked him to. He would drop everything for you, and would never miss an opportunity to make you happy. Even if it meant wearing a suit and standing around with people almost 20 years his junior, pretending it didn’t make his skin crawl to see them look between the two of you and do the math.
“Well, when you put it like that…” he drawled, his smirk giving way to a fond smile as you tugged him down by his shirt collar to kiss him sweetly. He gave you a softer smile when you parted, lingering in each other's space.
“Why do you even want to go to this thing anyway?”
You exhaled something between a scoff and a laugh, taking a step back and turning from him to focus on putting on the earrings Jack had gifted you for your birthday a year before he’d finally asked you out. In hindsight, you could understand why Ahmad and Donnie had started betting on when one of you would buck up the nerve and make a move. They needed the levity after watching you inch closer and closer for so long, all the while starkly refusing to admit your feelings. You could still remember the looks your coworkers would give you when they got stuck in a room with you, ranging from intrigued to downright uncomfortable as you danced around the obvious truth.
“Want might be a strong word for it.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “That does nothing to answer my question.”
You paused, still holding one earring in hand as you turned towards him.
“Because,” you said, quieter than you’d been since you’d first told him about the invitation weeks before. “No one in high school ever thought I’d turn out to be much. They made my life hell, spreading rumours behind my back, pouring stuff on my lunch so I couldn’t eat it.” You waved your hand dismissingly, letting out a small sigh. “All sorts of stupid stuff. Apparently one of them even started telling people I died a few years back.”
Jack’s mouth dropped open into a small oh, dark eyebrows raising. It took a lot to surprise him between his time abroad and the hours he spent undoing some of the dumbest and most tragic accidents Pittsburgh could offer, but the pedantry of teenagers was something he never got used to. Even if the evening marked fifteen years since your graduation, it made him wonder what you might be walking into. Some people never grew up. He knew that better than most, spending his nights regularly tending to the wounds of so many people who swore they had a great idea in the moment, just to sober up in the ED full of regret.
You nodded, a tight lipped smile doing its best to hold back your frustration.
“How did you die?” Jack asked it so carefully, like your fake death was a tender subject, that you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked so somber when you glanced up at him that your laughter only grew, until he was frowning at you and acting crosser than he was.
“I have a right to know,” he chastised, still acting stern. “I think I’ve earned that after three years. To think you went and died and didn’t even do me the decency of telling me. It’s rude, that’s what it is.”
Your laughter quelled, leaving only a breathy smile full of love for the goofy man before you.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised cheekily. “Next time I’ll make sure you’re the first one to know.”
Jack’s frown deepened at that, and he shook his head. “Next time? Oh no, you’re not dying again anytime soon.” He stepped closer, arm wrapping around your back and leaning down to press a firm kiss to the side of your head as you secured your second earring.
“What kind of doctor would I be if I lost you?” he murmured, speaking close enough to your ear to send goosebumps down your arms.
You hummed, trying to stay focused and not get lost in his charm.
“Still a pretty damn good one, baby.”
He made a discontent sound, ducking and pressing one more kiss to your cheek before retreating to a wall of your shared bedroom, leaning back against it with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. The sight just about drove you wild.
“C’mon, then,” he prompted, head tilted back so he was looking down the bridge of his nose. “How’d you die?” The corner of his mouth twitched, adding on “So I can be more prepared for next time.”
You twisted a ring on your finger. Your hands felt fidgety, and you knew he noticed, his calm, level gaze dropping to your hand for a moment before returning to your face. “They said I was in a car accident.” You rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath before trying to get the next words out. “They said I was drunk and hit a stop sign, or a building, or a school bus full of children, whatever. The story varies at that point from what I know.”
“Jesus. How’d you find out about this?”
You smile wryly. That was the best part of the story. “Someone sent my mom a condolence message on Facebook.”
Jack barked out a laugh.
“Right?” you exclaimed, laughing despite yourself. It was all so ridiculous. “And they didn’t even know me! I think we just had biology together or something and tracked her down.”
Jack blew out a deep breath of air. His burly arms crossed over his chest, not sure how to file away this new information about your fake death. Despite his mixed feelings about the idiocy of youth, he gave you a crooked smile, almost looking impressed as he exhaled a soft laugh. “You sure know how to keep things interesting, sweetheart.”
You grinned, struck just again by how much you loved him. Most people would be disturbed to hear about your teenage years, and you couldn’t exactly fault them. But to Jack, it was just another thing to take in stride, only mattering if it mattered to you. He would listen, and learn, making sure he knew how to support you without judgement. Nothing was ever too much for him, not even close. Not when it was you.
“Thank you, I try,” you joked, giving a small curtsy and almost tripping when the fabric of your dress clung to you. Jack’s hands were on your arms before you had a chance to fully stumble, stabilizing you and giving you a fond squeeze before letting one hand slide down to hold your own.
“Anyone tries any of that shit tonight, you tell me,” he said sincerely, all signs of teasing gone. “You’re not a teenager anymore. They can’t get you.”
You breathed out a short laugh.
“Damn right they can’t.” You smiled up at him, a determined set to your jaw. Those people had taken enough from you, and you were done letting them. You took his hand in your own, raising it to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his calloused palm, your heart fluttering at the soft look in his beautiful hazel eyes as you pressed it to your cheek. His thumb ran over your cheekbone.
“Besides,” you continued, giving him a teasing smirk, “anyone who tries anything next to my certified hunk of a boyfriend who could probably deadlift anyone we meet tonight is just asking for trouble.”
Jack laughed hard, his shoulders shaking and a few silvery curls slipping down to rest on his forehead. You brushed them back, returning the easy smile he gave you, full of love and joy.
“Maybe ten years ago,” he conceded, cupping your cheek in his hand, his smile widening as you leaned into his touch. “But now your hunk of a boyfriend would rather just carry you around. Preferably home.”
You pouted, toying with the collar of his dress shirt. “But you look so handsome.”
His eyebrow raised. “And I’ll stop being handsome when we come home?”
You scowled at him, almost breaking your fake annoyance when he looked so happy with himself, a small crooked smile pulling at the corner of his lips, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
“Unfortunately for me and my productivity, you’ll always be handsome, Jack.”
He dragged a hand over his scruff, palming at his cheek where more and more hair grew in white instead of the dark gingery-brown it was when you first met him. He didn’t care usually about the change, and you went above and behind to make sure he never forgot how desirable he was, but public appearances still made him nervous sometimes.
“Stop fussing with it,” you chided softly, cupping your hand over his against his cheek. “It looks good, baby. Stop worrying, please.”
His eyes dropped from yours with a heavy sigh, shoulders deflating slightly.
“People might talk.” His voice came out softly, the same even tone he almost always had. Straight to the facts, even when they were inconvenient. You knew him well enough to hear what he was saying behind the words. People might see you together and make snap judgements on who he was, who you were. They might discredit your relationship before even knowing him, seeing just the creases on his face and the tinge of silver that crept into more and more of his dark curls by the year.
You refused to give them the satisfaction of caring.
“So?”
Jack’s eyebrow raised, chin tilting down so he could give you an odd look.
“So, people might think less of you,” he explained, calm enough that it hurt your heart. “Or they might go after you again. Why give them any more ammunition? Things were hard enough for you back then.”
You stepped closer, smoothing your hands over his shoulders.
“Because I’m happy now.” Jack blinked, but some of the tension eased from his shoulders. “I’m not scared of them anymore, Jack, and I want to do this for myself, to prove that I can face them. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to-”
“I’m coming,” he cut in, certain and looking at you like you were crazy to even offer. “As long as you want me to, I’m there. You’re not alone this time.”
“I know,” you promised, holding his eye contact easily. “I’d never be alone, even if you weren’t there with me. And I do want you there, the same way I want you to go grocery shopping with me or to run to the post office with me. You make things more fun.” A small smile flickered onto your face, ducking your head slightly. “I might also have a small evil ulterior motive,” you confessed, slightly sheepish.
Jack hummed inquisitively, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his lips. Usually when you referenced being evil it entailed him and a state of undress.
“And what would that be?” he asked smoothly, voice just a touch lower than usual. You could feel heat creep up your cheeks at the small difference, your body responding before your mind had the chance.
“Maybe I want to show off my sexy boyfriend.” He grinned, a faint pink creaking up to stain his ears and the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made your heart do somersaults. “My sexy doctor boyfriend,” you corrected, nuzzling into his neck and peppering his pink skin with kisses and the occasional nip of teeth. You pulled back just enough to kiss him once, firm and passionate, smiling breathlessly as he chased after you when you pulled away.
“That okay?” you checked, heart hammering at the sight of him so breathless and flustered, dark eyes hooded and hungry.
He nodded, grinning crookedly.
“No complaints here, sweetheart.” He held your chin, pressing one more slow kiss to your lips, only pulling back when your lungs screamed for air. “But we might want to get a move on,” he murmured, voice low and rough as he smirked against your lips. “‘Cause I can only see you dressed up for so long before I need to take this dress off, stunning as it is.”
Walking into the high school felt all too familiar. The harsh fluorescent lighting was the same as you’d left it, eerily similar poster boards lining the hallways painted in your school colors. It was as if no time had passed at all, the Spirit Board frozen in time, only the faces in the photographs changed.
And yet everything was different. The halls felt wider, no teenagers shouldering past each other, clustering up along the walls or locking lips against the lockers to the chagrin of their neighbors. You could practically hear the idle chatter, the squeak of sneakers and distant sounds of metal lockers slamming shut.
You didn’t duck your head as you walked down the hall now, scurrying from class to class and stepping out of people’s way like you did as a teenager. You moved through the thin crowd of people easily, faces familiar but aged slowly recognizing each other as they found their names prepared on adhesive nametags on a table pushed along the wall.
Jack followed you as you moved, trailing half a step behind you, his hand in yours anchoring him to you, as if you would get swept away if he didn’t watch you closely. He picked up your name tag for you, smoothing it over the material of your dress and joking that he wasn’t important enough to earn a nametag. You quipped back that he could have brought his hospital ID badge from home if he was really worried about it, and he chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before following you as you led him through the school to find the gym, where the actual reunion was being held.
You were barely ten feet into the large room when a familiar voice stopped you, calling out your name from a few feet away. You turned, an apprehensive frown already on your lips as you pivoted to face the woman. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you took a steadying breath, reminding yourself that things were different now. Who knew? Maybe she was different now. Maybe she had grown a heart. Nothing was impossible.
“Oh my god,” the woman said, eyes dragging up and down your body with wide eyes, her jaw dropped open as she stared incredulously. “Look at you, all dressed up!” She giggled softly, a manicured hand coming up to tuck a shining lock of hair behind her ear. She was still bleaching her hair, you could see. Frustratingly, it looked amazing, flawless waves falling down around her shoulders. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels before,” she commented, head dropping to the side as she spoke in a chipper tone. She was overly enthusiastic in the way only people who wanted something were, her smile blown larger than life and movements overdone just slightly.
Jack cleared his throat beside you, his warm steadying hand pressed against the small of your back, and you glanced up at him. His brows pinched for just a moment, the hard line of his mouth set as he silently asked you if you were alright. You gave a weak smile back, shifting slightly closer to him, and his jaw set, his focus shifting back to the woman before him.
“Hannah!” you chirped, plastering on a fake smile. You glanced down at your dress, hands smoothing over the material, suddenly hyperaware of the cling of the fabric against your skin and how different it was from your jeans and hoodie you’d stuck to in high school.
“Yeah, I’ve kind of branched out more since graduating,” you joked. “Guess my experimental era came a little later than most.”
Hannah chuckled, eyes sliding past you again to sweep over Jack. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to stay calm. You’d expected the way her eyes swept over him, her smile, while pretty, not quite reaching her eyes. Hannah had always had a sharp quality to her that was hard to place, hidden under sweet tones and veiled compliments.
“Wow. You are…not what I expected when I heard our little valedictorian was bringing a date.” Her head tipped slightly to the side as she appraised him, eyes continuing to slither over his sharp suit, one hand (with nails painted to match her shoes, of course) holding her plastic cup while the other folded across her chest, one hip popped out. She hummed, ignoring the way Jack shifted slightly under her gaze, his eyes flicking to meet yours though he refused to cede any ground to her.
You could feel a familiar prickling under your skin, her gaze feeling like X-ray vision that could see right through you, just to poke and prod at the perfect spot to make you fall apart.
Jack shifted closer, an arm coming up to casually wrap around you, one warm hand resting on your hip as he pressed you against his side. He didn’t look away from Hannah, but the familiar weight of him provided a comforting feeling, keeping you grounded while unease churned in your stomach.
“Well, I’m as surprised as you are,” Jack joked, only the edge of his mouth tipped upward as he teased. “She could have anyone, but she keeps me around anyway.” He turned to look down at you, his smile coming easier when he saw the way your face warmed and you couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Still, if that’s her only lapse in judgement, I don’t think we can fault her too much.”
He turned back to Hannah, offering her a small nod instead of a handshake.
“Jack Abbot,” he said, offering a tightly-lipped smile.
Hannah beamed, her nails tapping against the side of her plastic cup as she looked him over. “Hannah Sampson,” she replied, standing just a bit taller. Her gaze moved to you, barely turning her face towards you, staying firmly planted with her spotless heels facing Jack.
“And of course, you know me,” she added with a small chuckle. “Or at least you did. Who’s to say after all this time if that really counts anymore, right?”
You laughed weakly. You had the feeling you knew her better than you would ever want to.
“So how’ve you been?” Her voice was overly sweet, patronizing like she was talking to a small child who wouldn’t understand her if she used a normal tone.
You glanced at Jack, your hesitant smile growing into something more sincere as you found his soft hazel eyes.
“Things have been good,” you said, still facing him. The corner of his mouth twitched, and your chest warmed. “Really good,” you added, fully grinning as you turned back to Hannah, ignoring the skeptical squint of her eyes. “I did what I said I would, went off to school and got my degree. Met this wonderful man and somehow got him to agree to a date-”
Jack looked offended. “I asked you out,” he corrected. You only smirked, shrugging as you leaned against him, your shoulder pressing back into his chest.
“Excuse you, I clearly remember us hanging out on the roof talking until the sun came up.”
He rolled his eyes, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
“During our shift,” he drawled. “Don’t think an HR violation classifies as a date.”
You grinned, snaking an arm behind his back, between his dress shirt and blazer, relishing his warmth as you pressed more firmly against his side.
“You sure have a way of putting a damper on things,” you teased, leaning up to give his scruffy cheek a kiss. He bit his lip to keep from smiling, only humming in response, and you turned back to Hannah, giving her an apologetic smile.
“Anyway,” you chuckled, satisfaction pooling low in your gut at the disbelieving look on her face, like she was sorting out a puzzle only she could see. “Yeah, things are going great. We’re even talking about getting a cat together.”
Jack chuckled, the warm sound vibrating through his chest and into you.
“Oh, we’re going to,” he confirmed, as if the decision was already made. For him, it was, and who were you to deny your love another creature that would love him as much as you did.
“Aw, how cute,” Hannah chimed in, lip jutting out in a pout. “I’ve always been more a dog person myself, but I’m sure a kitty will love you.” Her gaze moved over you, one lazy pass that felt more like an appraisal than true sight. “Should have pegged you as a cat lady.”
Her words should have stung, and maybe on a different day, they would have. But not here, not now, with Jack’s steady hand on your hip and the idea of the two of you curled up in bed with a little furball purring on his lap.
You shrugged. “Probably, yeah. But Jackie here is the true cat dad.” You looked up at him, already able to picture him fawning over a little kitten tumbling over itself, or a senior cat who curled up beside him as he read his novels, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and that adorable crease between his eyes as he got lost in the words.
“I’m a lover of all animals,” he countered, but you clicked your tongue.
“You know you’re a cat person, baby. You can love lots of animals, but you know what you are at heart.” You tapped his chest with your palm, right over his heart, your grin widening at the way he squinted fondly down at you, smiling despite himself.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
His eyes were soft as he looked down at you, and your chest warmed. He always looked at you like that, and it took you a long time to learn to accept it, to accept him and the steady, gentle love he offered like second nature, correcting you softly when you even thought of brushing off the myriad of wonders he saw in you.
“Don’t I know it,” you teased back, pressing closer to him and giving his jaw a chaste kiss.
You managed to muddle through a couple more minutes of conversation with Hannah without tripping over your words too much. You were pleasantly surprised to find your confidence only grew the longer you talked. She asked about your career and how you were handling the high stress of emergency medicine, giving a tight smile and a clipped congratulations when Jack jumped in for you, insisting that you took to the chaos like a fish in water, always knowing where to be just in the knick of time. She asked if you still managed to see your family, managing to drag up your siblings’ past issues with anger management and substance abuse. You didn’t miss the fierce gleam in her eye, hiding behind her honeyed tone as she tutted about how sad it was to see them washed up so young, and how her heart had just broken for you in high school to come from such a background. Jack’s grip on your hip had tightened slightly, but he let you fight your own battle with your head held high. Her smug smile slowly curled into something closer to a snarl as you told her that, actually, you saw your family often. That one sibling had sought treatment for their mental illness that had gone undiscovered, and that while another still struggled, you’d learned to set healthy boundaries and only help when asked, no longer offering more than you had to give.
You’d laced your fingers through Jack’s, never feeling more loved than you did when he looked at you with such pride.
“My parents are actually coming to visit us in a few months. They say they’re coming to see me, but I have half a mind to think they just want to see Jack.” You chuckled, not caring about the pinched expression Hannah wore when Jack laughed beside you. “Don’t even try to deny it,” you warned him playfully. “You’re their favorite in-law and we haven’t even made it official yet.”
Jack’s smile only grew, something in him softening at the promise of a forever together, of being an official family.
“Yeah, we’ve gotta get on that.”
He grinned as your face warmed, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide as your heart almost burst out of your chest just to get closer to him. You needed some air if you were going to make it through the night without dragging him off to a broom closet and kissing him stupid.
You regretfully separated from him, hating every inch of air between you, even as your cheeks burned and your head swam with dizzyingly happy thoughts.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go grab some punch.” You flashed Jack a teasingly shy smile. “For some reason, it’s feeling warm over here.”
He hummed, looking very pleased with himself. He gave your hand one final squeeze before dropping it.
“Can you grab me some too?”
You grinned. “I was already going to.”
You weren’t gone for long before Hannah followed you. You could hear the quiet click of her heels on the linoleum flooring drawing nearer as she slid up next to you while you surveyed the small banquet someone had put together. Pre-packaged cheese spreads, hummus that was already room temperature, and cookies from the local bulk supply store. Not bad for whatever pittance of a budget the student council was working with.
“So, how old is Jack?” Hannah smiled sweetly when you glanced up at her, acting like she was just making polite conversation and not prodding at your relationship like she hoped to topple it like a house of cards.
You shrugged, head turned back down as you considered grabbing a snack while you were by the table. You eyed the brittle looking cookies on display before deciding against it. The fruity scent of the punch drifted through the air, and you were craving sugar to soothe your nerves, more than any number of mass-produced cookies could provide. You wanted to kiss whoever thought to bring an ice bowl to set the punch over. It was the only thing that stayed cool in the gym that always had a way of running humid. You grabbed two cups from a stack at one end of the table, having to tear through their plastic sleeve to free them when they caught.
“Does it matter?”
Hannah shifted slightly on her heels, a small hum coming from the back of her throat.
“It’s just…Well…Isn’t he a little old for you?”
The hair prickled at the base of your skull, a hot wave of anger flooding through you. There it was. The criticism hiding behind the guise of girlfriendly concern.
“That’s rich coming from you,” you muttered, head downturned as you ladled punch into your two red solo cups.
Hannah let out a surprised laugh, a haughty high-pitched noise that got stuck in the back of her throat.
“Excuse me?”
You grimaced, collecting your cups and looking up to see her giving you a scandalized look.
“And what exactly does that mean?” she demanded, the obnoxious charms on her bracelet jingling as she put her hand on her hip. You wondered absently how much the whole thing cost. Five hundred dollars? A thousand? Two? Who even cared. It was all the same to her, just another jewel in her crown to flaunt around, a subtle flash of silver and diamonds to remind everyone who she was and what she had.
“It means,” you said, louder and sharper than you’d intended, “that I remember you getting awfully close to your piano teacher back in the day. Which was funny, given how much you bombed at Jennifer Chase’s birthday party. How old was he anyway? Thirty? And I know he was married, because my cousin was friends with his wife.”
A slight pink rose to Hannah’s cheeks, matching the tone of her dress perfectly, though you’d never admit it.
“I was drunk at that party,” she stammered out.
You nodded. “Oh yeah, you were plastered. But not before your boyfriend showed up with the keg, remember? Which was after you snuck off when you realized maybe your instructor exaggerated a bit when he told you how naturally gifted you were.”
Hannah shifted on her heels, tossing her head to the side to flick a stray strand of long hair out of her face. Her lips were pursed, eyes icy, her nice girl mask gone, just it had been all those years ago.
You could still remember her cheerily wishing you have a good weekend as you spilled out of class, just to corner you on the bleachers during lunch, her sweet smile gone as she sneered at you and your second hand backpack covered in pins and patches you’d sewn.
She wore the same expression now, sneering at you from her three-inch heels, but this time, you looked back, refusing to flinch.
“I’m not the one who brought my sugar daddy.”
You froze, everything stilling around you as a storm churned within you.
She really just said that. And what’s worse, she said it with absolute, snide conviction, convinced she’d dealt the final blow, as if it was glaring obvious there would only be one reason you could be interested in Jack.
“You know what I think?” You weren’t sure where your calmness came from, but your voice came out cool and collected, only your blazing eyes showing your fury. You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think you’re miserable. I think you poke and prod at other people and try to tear them down because you feel small, and you think no one can hurt you if you’re the one doing all the hurting. But you couldn’t be more wrong about Jack. You could never hurt him, and you can’t hurt me either, because I have him on my side.”
You stepped closer without realizing it, everything you’d held onto for all these years finally flowing out of you in one moment.
“Jack is a good person, better than me and damn better than you. He’s smart, and kind, and empathetic, and you know that he’s attractive. I don’t need to tell you that, you can see it yourself, and we both know you’ve been checking him out since we walked in.” You couldn’t stop, finally seeing her frozen in place for a change, her pretty eyes blown wide in shock. “You just can’t stand that someone like him loves me because you think that you’re better than me. But the truth is, you’re not. You never were. And Jack does love me, more than anyone ever has. So you’re going to shut your fucking trap about my man, because just because he took an oath to help people doesn’t mean that I won’t knock your teeth out if you say one more mean thing about him.” You scoffed, suddenly realizing she didn’t even know he was one of Pittsburgh's best doctors.
“Oh, yeah, and he’s a doctor, by the way,” you added, just to rub salt in the wound. “So I’m gonna go join my hot, successful, wealthy, and kind as fuck boyfriend and tell him for the hundredth time today how much I love him. Feel free to feel bad for me as much as you want. I’ll see you in five years if I don’t let Jack convince me to stay home next time. And he can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”
You clicked your tongue as you picked up your two cups of punch, giving her a fake sympathetic look before striding across the room, head held high and heart hammering in your chest.
Jack’s eyes brightened when he saw you approaching, a small smile tugging at his lips without realizing it. He accepted the cup you held out to him, and had it raised halfway to his lips when you nudged his arm aside, stepping into his space and placing a needy, hungry kiss on his lips. He grunted in surprise, brow furrowing at the sudden act, but kissed you back, his free arm wrapping around you and supporting your lower back.
“What was that for?” he asked breathlessly when you pulled apart, lungs screaming for air. His voice was low and gentle, soft eyes probing you for answers.
You only sighed, taking his free hand in yours and taking a small sip of your punch. It was overly sweet, enough to feel it in your teeth.
“More than I could ever say. You regret coming with me yet?”
He raised an eyebrow, expression staying level and flat.
“Sweetheart, this is nothing. In fact, go ahead and RSVP me as a plus one for the 20th reunion.”
You scoffed out a laugh. “Ooh, you planning on sticking around for another five years?” you teased. You knew the answer, you could see it written on his face every time he looked at you, like you were the only thing worth truly seeing.
“I’m not that old, sweetheart.”
You laughed. You took another sip of your punch before setting it on a nearby table. Your hands found his, and you gently tugged him, giving him just enough time to set down his own drink before you were dragging him with you towards the dance floor. The music played quietly over the speakers, a mix of music that was popular during your high school days mixed with whatever hits played on the radio.
“Come on, Jack, dance with me.”
Jack grimaced for a moment, stilling before you could fully pull him over.
“I’m not much of a dancer, honey.”
You quirked a brow at him. You stepped closer, settling against his chest with your arms slung around his neck while his hands settled on your hips.
“You’ve done much more difficult things than awkwardly dancing with me.”
Jack frowned, handsome features distorting as his brow furrowed.
“You know you don’t have to,” you added, turning serious. “Talk to me, Jack. What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”
He looked away, jaw working once as he gathered his thoughts.
“I’m not exactly graceful.” He said it quietly, voice coming out low and rough, like it pained him to say no to you. “Don’t want to step on your toes.”
You laughed softly. Your hand found his cheek, gently turning him to meet the eyes you wanted to look into for the rest of your life.
“You think I care about grace? Jack, this is a high school reunion, not Dancing with the Stars. And who cares, trample me if you want. I just want to dance with the man I love. God knows I’d probably step on your toes too.”
Jack hummed a small laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Less of a risk of it hurting me,” he supplied easily. “Less toes.”
Your head dropped to his shoulder when you laughed, resting against him like it was second nature. You barely even noticed when he started to gently sway from side to side, moving you along with him until you were dancing.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his neck, turning to press your cheek against his shoulder. “For everything tonight. And all of the last three years and however many we have together. I love you Jack, so much.”
He dipped his head until his nose grazed your hair. He pressed a soft kiss to your hairline, his warm breath tickling your scalp.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
You raised your head just enough to catch him in a kiss, slow and sweet.
“Will you dance with me again someday?”
Jack hummed softly, eyes soft and steady as he looked down at you.
“One day.”
“It’ll be good practice,” you pointed out softly. “We’ll have to dance together again at some point, and as much as I’ll always love our clumsy kitchen dancing, we might want something else for the scrapbook.” You smiled sweetly, unable to help the happy chuckle that bubbled out of your chest.
Jack smirked down at you, hazel eyes glimmering with fondness.
“You saying I can’t do the chicken dance at our wedding?” he drawled.
You laughed again. “You can do whatever you want at our wedding,” you retorted, “but I’d prefer if our first dance was a little more put together than that.”
“So save it for the second dance then.”
You grinned, nodding happily as his grin finally cracked. “Honestly, I can’t think of anything more fitting for us.”
Jack laughed through his nose, and the smile he gave you was so soft, so open and caring and him that it made you want to propose right there in your old high school gym, even without a ring to offer.
“I’ll learn how to dance for you,” he said after a moment, voice low and rough, sincere to the point of not caring how he sounded, as long as you were in his arms, swaying with him to the bad pop song playing. “I’ll get a better suit.”
“But this tie,” you requested, toying with the knot he had tied at his throat.
His smile only grew, breathing out a short laugh. “Of course, sweetheart. Your tie.”
He rested his forehead against yours, drawing you closer and letting out a soft sigh as your fingers carded through his hair.
“I’ve been waiting to hear back from the jeweler,” he admitted softly. “Would have asked you by now if I could have. He had some family emergency, had to push back the date.” He frowned, big brown eyes looking so apologetic it broke your heart and made it beat faster all at the same time. “Wanted to ask you on our anniversary. Had a whole plan, but he wasn’t ready. Didn’t want to rush him when we have time, but…I wish it could have happened sooner,” he finished quietly.
You knew it was coming. You had known for a long time that Jack was your one and only, the man you wanted to grow old with, and he made his thoughts about you just as clear. When he’d started taking closer notice of your jewelry a few months before, noting if you preferred silver more than gold, or wore sleeker pieces rather than showier ones, you knew it was fast approaching. Even your anniversary plans had clued you in, and you were surprised when the night ended curled up together without new titles for each other. You hadn’t had it in you to feel disappointed though, not when he was still your Jack, and you would be able to wake up to him in the morning. He was always going to be your husband someday. Just on a different timeline.
“The ring isn’t the important thing,” you reminded him softly. “You are. Just us, working as a team. I’d marry you with sharpie drawn on my hand, and I’d still be the happiest woman alive.”
Jack hummed his laugh, giving you a slight nod and a crooked smile that was as teasing as it was adoring.
“Maybe we don’t wait then. Maybe…the end of the month.”
You could only smile up at him, giggling when ducked his head to press a kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive skin.
“You’ve gotta at least act surprised when I ask though,” he murmured against your skin, pressing kiss after kiss across your face until you were pulling away to get him to stop. He grinned easily, settling back against you like he belonged there, voice hushed so no one else could overhear him. “Can’t have your parents thinking I have no manners.”
You smiled softly, lost in the soft and steady love written on his face. Things always felt so easy with him, even during your darkest moments. Even when you were exhausted and stressed, one small annoyance away from losing your minds, you were able to calm each other down, to be a safe place to let yourselves break and know that you wouldn’t have to patch yourself together again alone.
“Believe me, Jack, I’ll be as surprised as I was three years ago when I first asked you out.”
“I asked you out,” he laughed.
You only chuckled. “Whatever you say. Happy wife, happy life.”
Synopsis: After falling off a ladder, Y/N decides that calling an Uber is probably the safer option for getting to the ED. While Dr. Abbot treats her injured wrist, Robby, Y/N’s brother, finally returns the voicemail left for him. However, he isn’t thrilled by the way his best friend and little sister are interacting, or by the tension he senses between them.
Contains: Slow-burn romance • Workplace tension • Medical drama • Emergency department setting • Mutual flirting • Emotional intimacy • Flirting • Professional boundaries • Found family • Forbidden feelings
The school year was finally over. Which meant you could finally give your teacher brain a much-needed break before spending the rest of the summer pretending you weren't already thinking about next year's classroom.
You loved being a kindergarten teacher.
Sure, five-year-olds were tiny tornadoes with endless questions and even more energy, but you couldn't imagine doing anything else. Your classroom was always filled with bright colors, tiny artwork taped to every available surface, and enough glitter to last a lifetime. You'd miss your class this summer, but at least you'd still get to see them in the hallways next year as first graders.
For now, though, your focus was on making your apartment feel a little more like home. You stepped back to admire the nearly finished gallery wall in your living room.
One blank spot.
One last painting.
Easy enough.
Well... in theory.
You let out a small sigh as you adjusted the ladder against the wall and looked up at the empty space.
"I hate heights," you muttered to yourself.
From the couch, Cheddar, your very judgmental orange tabby, barely lifted his head, watching you with what could only be described as disappointment.
You pointed the hammer at him.
"Do you want to do it?"
Cheddar blinked.
"Yeah, I didn't think so."
He stretched dramatically before settling back down.
"Exactly. Quit judging me if you're not going to help."
Taking one last deep breath, you climbed the ladder with a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other. The nail went into the wall without a problem.
"So far, so good," you mumbled.
Now came the hard part.
You climbed back down and picked up the large, framed painting resting against the wall. It wasn't incredibly heavy, but it was awkward to carry, wide enough that you couldn't get a good grip on it without extending your arms.
"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned, readjusting your hold.
Slowly, you climbed the ladder again, carefully balancing the painting against your body.
One step.
Then another.
By the time you reached the top, your arms were already beginning to shake from holding the frame out in front of you.
"Almost there..."
You lifted the painting toward the nail, trying to hook the wire onto it.
Just a little higher...
As you shifted your weight to reach a little farther, the ladder wobbled beneath you.
Your stomach dropped.
"Oh, no..."
Instinctively, you tried to steady yourself, but the weight of the painting pulled you off balance. Your foot slipped from the rung, and before you could recover, gravity took over. The painting lurched forward. You lurched with it. Everything happened at once.
The frame slipped from your hands. Your body twisted sideways. And as you fell, you threw your right hand out to brace yourself. Pain exploded through your wrist the instant it hit the hardwood floor. You landed hard on your hip, the painting crashing beside you with a loud thud that echoed through the apartment.
For a few seconds, all you could do was stare at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. Cheddar, completely unbothered, hopped off the couch and wandered over. He sat beside you, tilted his head, and let out a single, judgmental meow.
You groaned. "Not. One. Word."
Carefully, you tried to push yourself upright. The second you put weight on your right hand, a sharp, searing pain shot from your wrist all the way up your forearm. You immediately jerked it back toward your chest.
"...Well," you hissed through gritted teeth, cradling your wrist. "I think that's broken."
Eventually, you managed to stand, wincing and groaning through every movement as you searched the apartment for your phone. You'd called your brother, Michael, earlier that afternoon. He'd told you about his shift, and you'd excitedly mentioned finally hanging the new painting you'd bought.
He'd told you to wait until he came over to help. You, of course, hadn't listened. You hit his contact and held the phone to your ear.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
You frowned. "Come on..."
Another ring. "The one time I actually need you to answer."
The call rolled over to voicemail. Normally, you never left your brother voicemails. Today seemed like a good exception.
"Hey... so, uh... I guess I'm taking myself to the hospital." You looked down at your rapidly swelling wrist.
"Turns out, while hanging that painting, you know, the one you specifically told me to wait and let you help with, I may have fallen off the ladder."
You sighed dramatically. "And I may or may not have broken my wrist." Another pause. "I'm heading to your hospital now. Just thought you'd want to know before you randomly get a call from them because you're my emergency contact."
A small laugh escaped you. "Anyway... love you. Bye."
You ended the call and dropped your head back against the couch cushion. Driving suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. With one functioning hand, you opened the Uber app and requested a ride.
A driver named Taz accepted within minutes.
---
Thankfully, Taz was easy to talk to. He asked what had happened, and before you knew it, you were explaining the painting, the ladder, and your complete lack of common sense.
"So..." he said with a grin as he glanced at your wrist at a stoplight. "...I'm no doctor, but that's looking pretty swollen."
You looked down. It had definitely gotten bigger since you'd left the apartment.
"Yeah..." You frowned.
"That's... concerning." Taz chuckled.
"I'd get that looked at."
"That's the plan." You sighed dramatically. "This is a really inconvenient time to have a broken wrist."
"Big summer plans?"
"Not really." You held up your injured arm. "It's just my right hand."
He nodded sympathetically. "Oof."
"Exactly."
---
A few minutes later, Taz pulled up to the emergency department entrance.
"Good luck," he said.
"Thanks."
You climbed out carefully, waving goodbye with your uninjured hand before making your way through the sliding glass doors. The familiar smell of antiseptic immediately hit you. The waiting room wasn't packed...But it definitely wasn't empty.
You glanced toward the registration desk and let out a quiet sigh.
"Well...This should be fun."
A short line had already formed, so you waited patiently while each person checked in ahead of you. Eventually, it was your turn. The woman behind the desk offered you a polite smile.
"Name, date of birth, and what brings you in today?"
You returned the smile. "Y/N Robinavitch. My birthday is February twenty-third, two thousand. I fell off a ladder and I think I broke my wrist."
She typed your information into the computer. As she read your chart, her eyebrows lifted just slightly. You noticed the look but couldn't quite place why. A moment later, she grabbed a clipboard and a packet of paperwork.
"Here you go." She handed it across the desk. "Have a seat, and we'll call your name as soon as we're ready."
"Thank you."
You took the paperwork and found an empty chair in the waiting room. Now...You wait.
You hadn't even finished filling out the first page of paperwork when the door leading back to the emergency department swung open.
A kind of tall nurse stepped into the waiting room.
He looked to be around your age, maybe a few years younger, with dark, curly hair that had clearly given up on staying neat halfway through his shift. A pair of blue scrubs hung comfortably on his athletic frame, and a pair of trauma shears clipped to his waistband bounced lightly as he walked.
He glanced down at the chart in his hand before looking up. "Y/N Robinavitch?"
You stood, careful not to jostle your wrist. "That's me."
He offered an easy smile. "I'm Mateo."
He held the door open for you. "Come on back."
You followed him through the secure doors, immediately hit by the familiar sounds of an emergency department in full swing. Monitor alarms chimed in the distance. Someone laughed from one of the nurses' stations. A physician was speed-walking toward a patient room while reading something on an iPad.
It somehow looked both completely chaotic and completely organized.
Mateo led you into a small triage room. "Go ahead and have a seat."
You climbed onto the bed as carefully as possible, cradling your injured wrist against your chest. Mateo rolled over on his stool, computer already awake.
"So..." he said as he logged into the chart. "What happened?"
You sighed dramatically. "I lost a fight with a ladder."
He paused. "The ladder won?"
"Oh, by a landslide."
A laugh escaped him. "I appreciate the honesty."
He clicked through a few boxes.
"Walk me through it."
"I was hanging a painting."
"By yourself?"
"Unfortunately."
"YouTube tutorial?"
"No."
"My own poor decision-making."
He chuckled as he typed. "So you fell?"
"I was standing on the ladder trying to hook the painting onto the nail." You motioned toward your wrist with your free hand. "The painting was bigger than I expected, I lost my footing, and I put my hand out to catch myself."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
Mateo finally looked down at your wrist. His eyebrows immediately climbed. "...Yeah."
You followed his gaze. "It wasn't that swollen twenty minutes ago."
"I believe you." He gently reached for your forearm.
"I'm just going to take a quick look, okay?"
You nodded. The second his fingers barely supported your wrist, you winced.
He immediately eased off. "Sorry."
"No, you're good."
He rotated your hand only a few degrees before stopping.
"Nope."
"What?"
"I'm not doing any more of that." He looked back at the computer. "I'm willing to bet we're getting X-rays."
"That's what I was afraid of."
He smiled sympathetically. "Any numbness or tingling?"
You wiggled your fingers carefully.
"No."
"Can you move them?"
"Barely."
"Good enough." He entered another note before wrapping a temporary ice pack in a towel and handing it to you. "Here."
You carefully rested it over your wrist.
The cool pressure was an immediate relief. "Thank you."
"No problem." He looked back at the chart. "Pain on a scale of one to ten?"
You thought for a second. "If I'm sitting still?"
"Mhm."
"Maybe a... six?"
"And if you try to use it?"
You laughed once. "Let's not find out."
He grinned. "I'll put down an eight."
"That feels fair."
He continued clicking through your chart before suddenly pausing.
"Huh." You tilted your head. "What?"
He looked back at the screen.
"Your emergency contact is Michael Robinavitch?"
"Yeah."
"My brother."
Mateo nodded slowly. "I thought the last name sounded familiar."
"You know him?"
A smile spread across his face. "Know him?" He leaned back in his chair. "I work with him."
Your eyes widened. "Oh..."
"Yeah." He laughed.
"He's one of our Chief Attending Physicians."
You let out a dramatic groan. "Oh no."
Mateo couldn't help but laugh. "Oh yes."
"You haven't called him, have you?"
"I haven't."
You sighed in relief. "He already knows."
Mateo blinked. "He does?"
"I left him a voicemail after I fell."
"Ah." He nodded knowingly.
"Then I won't be the one getting you in trouble."
"You think I'm in trouble?"
Mateo gave you a look that could only be described as amused. "You ignored the advice of an older sibling."
He stood from his stool. "I have three sisters. They always think they know better."
You smiled sheepishly. "...He's never going to let me live this down, is he?"
Mateo opened the triage room door with a grin. "Absolutely not. And honestly?"
He glanced back over his shoulder. "I can't wait to watch."
----
Mateo stepped out of the triage room, chart tucked under one arm. He made it about halfway to the physician station before spotting Abbot reviewing lab results on an iPad.
"Hey, Doc."
Abbott looked up. "What've you got?"
"Twenty-six-year-old female. Fall from a ladder while hanging a painting."
Abbott nodded. "Wrist injury?"
Mateo handed him the chart. "Pretty swollen. Limited range of motion. Mechanism sounds like she caught herself with an outstretched hand."
Abbott skimmed the chart. "Any numbness?"
"No."
"Pulse?"
"Strong."
Abbot continued reading before his eyes stopped on the name. His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
"Robinavitch?"
Mateo nodded. "Yeah. You know her?"
A small smile crossed Abbott's face. "I know her brother."
"Such a small world," Mateo stated, kind of sarcastically.
Abbott closed the chart. "I'll go take a look."
---
A soft knock sounded on the wall before the curtain opened. You looked up from your phone. The man who stepped inside looked to be in his mid-forties, tall, neatly dressed in black scrubs with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
He offered a warm smile. "Hi. I'm Dr. Jack Abbott."
You returned the smile. "Y/N."
"I know." He glanced at the chart. “I hear ladders aren't your friend."
You groaned. "They're dead to me."
He chuckled. "I'll make a note to avoid introducing the two of you again."
Despite the pain, you laughed.
"So..." He washed his hands. "Tell me what happened."
You gave him the shortened version.
"The painting was heavier than I expected. I lost my footing. I tried to catch myself."
"And your wrist lost the argument."
"Pretty much."
Abbott pulled the rolling stool closer. "I'm going to take a look." He looked up first. "If anything hurts too much, tell me and I'll stop."
"Deal."
His touch was careful. Gentle. He supported your forearm before lightly examining your wrist. The moment he palpated the outer side, you sucked in a sharp breath.
"There?"
You nodded. "Definitely there."
"I'm sorry." His voice softened.
"I know."
He compared both wrists before checking your fingers. "Can you wiggle these for me?"
You managed a small movement.
"Good."
"And squeeze my fingers."
You tried.
He smiled. "Not your strongest handshake."
"I'll work on it."
"I'd appreciate that."
He laughed quietly before becoming serious again.
"I think we should get some X-rays."
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"I'd rather be wrong than miss something, sweetheart."
Before you could answer, the curtain flew open.
"Y/N?"
You looked up. Your brother stood in the doorway wearing his pajama pants, hair slightly disheveled like he'd been running through the department.
"Oh, hey Michael."
He crossed the room in three long strides. "What happened?"
"I fell."
"You what?"
"I fell."
"Off what?"
"A ladder."
He stared. "...Seriously?"
You smiled sheepishly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Abbot stood, trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. "I'll go put in those X-ray orders."
Robby nodded distractedly. "Thanks, Jack."
Abbot gave you one last reassuring smile before slipping out of the room. The curtain closed behind him.
Your brother folded his arms. "So..." You already knew that tone. "Why didn’t you call me twice?"
You blinked innocently. "Oh, I don't know. I figured if your little sister was calling, you'd probably answer."
He winced. "I was messing with my bike, my phone was inside."
"So I figured..." You shrugged. "... I left you a voicemail at least”
Robby sighed dramatically. "You left me a voicemail saying, 'I may or may not have broken my wrist,' and then hung up."
"I also said I loved you."
"That's not the point!"
"It softens the blow."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I specifically told you to wait until I came over."
"I know."
"And you didn't."
"I didn't."
He looked toward the curtain where Abbot had disappeared.
"You know..."
"What?"
"The way Jack was looking at you."
You froze. "...What about it?"
Robby narrowed his eyes. "He doesn't look at most patients like that."
You tried very hard to keep your face neutral. "I think you're imagining things."
"Oh, am I?"
"You are."
He smirked. "I've known that man for ten years."
"So?"
"So I know his 'doctor face.'"
"And?"
"That wasn't just his doctor face."
You laughed, trying to brush it off. "You're ridiculous."
Robby pointed toward the door. "He called you 'sweetheart.'"
"He did not."
"He absolutely did."
You paused.
"...Maybe once."
Michael folded his arms. "Mhm."
You couldn't help smiling. "Well..."
He raised an eyebrow.
"If he keeps calling me sweetheart..." You grinned. "...you're about to have the brother you've always wanted."
Robby stared at you for two full seconds. Then he barked out a laugh. "Oh, absolutely not."
"What?"
"I am not dealing with you dating my best friend."
"I didn't say I was dating anybody."
"You implied it."
"I joked."
"You never joke like that unless you're thinking about it."
You opened your mouth. Closed it. "...I hate that you know me so well."
Robby smiled triumphantly. "I changed your diapers."
"You did not."
"I could've."
"You literally weren't old enough."
"Details."
Before either of you could continue, the curtain slid open again. Abbot stepped back inside with a portable splint tucked under one arm.
He looked between the two of you.
"...Should I be concerned?"
Robby answered immediately. "Very."
You rolled your eyes. "Ignore him."
Abbot smiled, somehow sensing he'd walked into the middle of something.
"I usually do."
Robby pointed at him.
"See? He flirts."
Abbott looked genuinely confused. "I... what?"
You covered your face with your good hand. "Oh my God."
This was going to be a very long visit.
-----
About forty minutes later, you were wheeled back into the same exam room after X-rays. You didn't even need someone to tell you the news. The radiology tech had done an impressive job of keeping a straight face, but the sympathetic smile she'd given you on the way out hadn't exactly inspired confidence.
You stared at your swollen wrist. "...You're expensive."
A soft knock interrupted your conversation with your arm. The curtain slid open, and Dr. Abbot stepped inside with a tablet tucked under one arm and a box of casting supplies balanced in the other.
Robby looked up from the chair he'd claimed in the corner. "So?"
Abbot couldn't help but smile. "There is a fracture."
Robby immediately leaned forward. "Where?"
Abbot turned the tablet so both of you could see the X-ray.
"This bone here." He pointed toward the larger bone in your forearm. "You've got a nondisplaced distal radius fracture."
You blinked. "...In English?"
"The good news," he said, "is nothing shifted out of place."
"So I don't need surgery?"
"No."
The relief was immediate. "Thank God."
Abbot nodded. "We're going to put you in a cast today to keep everything immobilized."
"How long?"
"Probably about six weeks."
Your face fell. "Six weeks?"
"I'm afraid so."
You groaned dramatically. "I teach kindergarten."
"I know." Abbot's lips twitched. "I imagine you'll be signing a lot more things with your left hand."
"I can barely write with my left hand."
Robby snorted. "You can barely write with your right."
You looked over. "Traitor."
"I've seen your grocery lists."
"They're perfectly legible."
"They're hieroglyphics."
Abbot laughed quietly as he set the casting supplies on the bedside table.
"I'll let the two of you debate handwriting while I get everything ready."
Robby stood. "I'm gonna go to the restroom before she starts throwing things at me."
You held up your cast-less wrist. "I physically can't."
"Exactly." He grinned. "My timing is perfect."
The curtain swished closed behind him. The room became noticeably quieter.
Abbot pulled the stool closer. "Ready?"
"I don't really have another option."
"Not unless you'd like to keep the broken wrist."
"I'll pass."
He carefully positioned your arm on a pillow before picking up the soft white padding.
"I'm going to wrap this first."
His movements were slow and deliberate, making sure your wrist stayed supported.
"Let me know if anything hurts."
You watched his hands work. "You've done this a few times."
"A few."
"What's the worst injury you've seen from someone hanging a painting?"
He looked up with an amused smile. "Oddly specific."
"I'm trying to see where I rank."
"You don't crack the top ten."
"I feel oddly proud of that."
"I wouldn't."
"I'll take what I can get."
He chuckled, continuing to smooth the padding around your forearm. "You caught yourself at just the right angle."
"So I got lucky?"
"You did." He reached for the fiberglass casting rolls.
"What color?"
You looked at the small selection.
Blue.
Black.
Purple.
Green.
Then—
"Oh." Your face lit up. "There."
Abbot followed your gaze. "The pink?"
"The very pink."
He smiled. "I should've known."
"You should've?"
"You strike me as someone who enjoys color."
"I teach five-year-olds."
"Fair point."
"My classroom is basically a rainbow."
"I believe it."
"You don't even know me."
He met your eyes for just a moment. "I know enough."
Your cheeks warmed ever so slightly. He seemed to notice, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he dipped the fiberglass roll into warm water before beginning to wrap your wrist. The material molded smoothly beneath his hands.
"Try not to move."
"I'm trying."
"I know." His voice was calm. Encouraging.
The kind that somehow made everything hurt a little less.
"You'll probably notice the cast getting warm."
"It already is."
"That's normal."
"It feels weird."
"It'll harden over the next few minutes."
You studied the bright pink layers forming around your arm. "I look like Barbie lost a fight."
Abbot laughed. "I was going to say it suits you."
Your eyebrows lifted. "The cast?"
"The color."
You smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was intended as one."
For a brief moment, neither of you spoke. He focused on smoothing the edges near your thumb. You watched him work.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You said you're a kindergarten teacher."
"Mhm."
"What grade?"
"Kindergarten."
"You like the little ones?"
"I love them." A smile spread across your face without you realizing it. "They're exhausting. They're messy. They ask me why the moon follows the school bus. But they have my heart"
Abbott laughed. "I don't know how you answer that."
"I make something up until I can Google it later."
He smiled, shaking his head. "I had a feeling you'd say something like that."
"You did?"
"I've gathered you're... optimistic."
"I try."
"And patient."
"Most days."
He finished molding the last section of the cast before gently lifting your hand. "How does that feel?"
You carefully flexed your fingers. "Much better, actually."
"Good."
He inspected the cast one final time before resting your arm back on the pillow.
"I want you to keep it dry. No swimming."
"There goes my Olympic career."
"No lifting."
"There goes moving my couch."
"And no climbing ladders."
You looked at him innocently. "...That one feels oddly personal."
"It is."
You laughed. "I'll do my best."
He smiled. "I believe you."
Then he reached for the discharge papers. "I'd like you to follow up in about a week."
"With orthopedics?"
He nodded. "We'll repeat the X-rays to make sure everything's healing the way we want."
You hesitated. "...Will I see you again?"
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Abbot looked up from the paperwork.
"If I'm working that day..." A small smile appeared. "...I'll make a point to check on how the pink cast is holding up."
Your own smile mirrored his. "I'd like that."
For just a second, neither of you looked away. The curtain suddenly swung open. Robby walked back in carrying a bottle of water.
"Did I miss anything?"
You and Abbott looked away from each other at the same time. Abbot cleared his throat and handed Michael the discharge paperwork.
"Just instructions."
Michael looked between the two of you, then down at the exceptionally bright cast.
"...Pink?"
You admired your arm proudly. "It matches my personality."
Robby sighed dramatically. "I've created a monster."
Abbot smiled to himself as he gathered the remaining supplies. "I think that happened long before today."
---
One week later...
You had become surprisingly efficient at doing everything one-handed.
Opening jars? Impossible.
Buttoning jeans? A daily exercise in patience.
Trying to carry more than one thing at a time? A disaster waiting to happen. The bright pink cast had become a permanent accessory, and honestly, you were starting to get attached to it. Your summer break had been going great before the whole "falling off a ladder and breaking your wrist" incident, and now your days mostly consisted of finding creative ways to entertain yourself while avoiding doing anything that might make your injury worse.
Robby had been checking in constantly, which you appreciated...
Even if he was being slightly dramatic.
Okay. Very dramatic.
Your follow-up appointment had gone exactly as expected. The orthopedic team repeated your X-rays, confirmed everything was healing well, and told you to keep the cast on for a few more weeks.
The doctor smiled when she saw the color. "Pink?"
You looked down at your arm. "Obviously."
She laughed. "Good choice."
You left with another appointment scheduled and one less thing to worry about.
---
The next stop on your day was much more exciting.
Robby.
Your brother was working that day in the emergency department, and after hearing him complain for three days straight that the cafeteria coffee was "borderline criminal," you'd decided to surprise him with a coffee from his favorite shop.
It was the least you could do after giving him a mild heart attack the week before. The emergency department was already buzzing by the time you walked through the sliding doors.
You smiled at the receptionist as you approached. "Hi."
"Hi there."
"I'm just dropping off a coffee for my brother."
She looked at the cup in your hand. "Robby?"
"That's the one."
"He should still be in the department."
"Perfect."
She pointed toward the badge-controlled doors. "You know where you're going?"
"Unfortunately."
She laughed. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
You thanked her before heading through the familiar hallway. It felt strange being here without checking in as a patient. Stranger still......without your wrist throbbing every time you moved.
You rounded the corner toward what looked like a nurses station and nearly walked straight into someone.
"Oh!"
A steady hand caught your elbow before you could stumble backward.
"Easy."
You looked up. Dr. Jack Abbott.
He smiled. "Hello, sweetheart."
The nickname slipped out so naturally that neither of you seemed to notice it at first.
Then his eyebrows lifted. "I mean..." He cleared his throat. "...Y/N."
A grin spread across your face. "I heard the first one."
"I gathered."
"You can stick with it."
His lips curved into a small smile. "I probably shouldn't."
"Probably not."
For a second, neither of you moved. Then his eyes dropped to your arm.
"The cast survived."
You lifted it proudly. "Barely."
He laughed. "I like the stickers and the doodles."
You glanced down. Your cast was covered in colorful drawings, glittery stickers, and tiny doodles from you being bored at home and finding an assortment of colorful pens and stickers you didn’t use with your last class.
“I got a little bored and figured it could use some more décor”
“It looks very decorative for sure” His eyes lingered on the cast for another second before returning to your face. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better."
"Any pain?"
"Mostly just when I forget I can't use this hand."
"You've been behaving?"
You gave him an innocent look. "I've thought about behaving."
He folded his arms. "That's not what I asked."
You smiled. "I've been mostly behaving."
"I'll take mostly." He looked genuinely relieved.
"I'm glad." You studied him for a moment.
"You look... awake."
He blinked. "I've never been accused of that before."
"I mean it. From what Robby says, you usually look like you've already worked half a shift."
A laugh escaped him. "That's because I usually have."
You frowned. "What time did you come in today?"
He hesitated just long enough for you to notice. "...Earlier than usual."
"How early?"
"About forty-five minutes."
You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
His gaze drifted briefly toward the nurses' station before returning to you. "I had some charting to finish."
"Mhm."
"And I wanted to check in with ortho."
"Mhm."
"And..." He stopped himself.
"And?"
A small, almost embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I remembered today was your follow-up."
Your heartbeat skipped.
"So..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...I thought I'd come in a little early."
You stared at him.
"...Just in case I ran into you."
Silence. Not awkward. Just honest.
You couldn't stop smiling. "You came to work early..."
His smile turned sheepish. "...Maybe."
"...to see me?"
"I wasn't counting on it."
"But you were hoping."
Another pause.
"...Yes."
The admission was quiet. So quiet you almost missed it beneath the distant monitor alarms. Your chest tightened.
"You know..." You shifted the coffee carrier to your left hand. "...that's probably the sweetest thing anyone's ever admitted to me."
His ears turned the faintest shade of pink. "I wasn't planning on saying it out loud."
"I'm glad you did."
Before Abbott could answer, another voice echoed from the nurses' station.
"Well... this explains why I couldn't find either of you."
The two of you turned at the same time. Robby was walking toward, looking tired but noticeably more awake the second he spotted the coffee in your hand.
"There she is."
You held up the cup with a grin. "I come bearing peace offerings."
His eyes lit up. "My favorite?"
"You've complained about the hospital coffee every day for a week."
"I have."
"So I fixed the problem."
He accepted the cup like you'd just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "You are officially my favorite sibling."
"I'm your only sibling."
"Exactly."
You rolled your eyes. "You're welcome."
Robby took a grateful sip before looking between you and Abbott.
"...How long have you two been standing here?"
Abbott answered first. "Only a few minutes."
"Mhm."
Robby nodded slowly. "A few minutes."
His eyes drifted down for just a second. Then back up. Abbot followed his gaze. Realization immediately crossed his face. Without a word, he stepped back. His hand, which had been resting lightly against the small of your back while the two of you talked, slipped away almost instinctively.
You hadn't even realized it was there. Apparently...Neither had he. Robby blinked once.
Then looked at you.
Then at Abbott.
Then back at you.
"...Jack."
Abbot rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."
"You know your hand was on my sister's lower back that entire conversation... right?"
Silence.
Your eyes widened. "It was?"
Abbott looked genuinely caught off guard. "I..."
He glanced at you before looking back at Robby. "I didn't realize."
Robby let out a slow breath before taking another sip of coffee. "Huh."
"What?"
"I've known you for almost twelve years."
Abbot sighed. "I know."
"I've watched you comfort family members after losing loved ones."
"I know."
"I've watched you run trauma codes without your heart rate changing."
"I know where this is going."
Robby pointed the coffee cup toward him. "I have never..." He paused for emphasis. "...seen you accidentally touch someone."
Your cheeks immediately warmed.
Abbot looked somewhere between embarrassed and amused. "It wasn't intentional."
Robby raised an eyebrow. "No?"
Abbott shook his head. "No."
Another beat.
"...At least not consciously."
Robby laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee. "Oh, buddy."
Abbot closed his eyes. "Please don't."
"I was wondering why you showed up forty-five minutes early."
You looked over at Abbott. "You really never come in that early?"
Robby barked out another laugh. "He fights coming in twenty minutes early."
Abbot muttered under his breath. "I like my sleep."
"And yet," Robby continued with a grin, "today, somehow, you were here before half the nurses."
Abbot looked at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I think we've established that it wasn't a coincidence."
Your smile softened. "I think we have."
Robby looked between the two of you one last time before taking another long sip of his coffee.
"...You know..." He pointed toward Abbott. "If this man keeps looking at you like that, I'm going to have to start pretending I don't know either of you."
You laughed. "I thought you wanted another sibling."
Robby groaned dramatically.
"I was joking."
Abbot couldn't help but laugh.
"I figured." Robby sighed as he shook his head. "Just..." He pointed a finger between the two of you. "...Whatever this is, don't make me fill out paperwork."
Abbot smiled. "I'll do my best."
Robby looked at him. "I wasn't talking to you."
That earned a genuine laugh from both of you.
Abbot checked the time on his watch. "I should probably go pretend I'm here to work."
"You probably should," Robby agreed.
Abbot looked back at you one last time. "It was good seeing you."
"You too."
"I'll see you around."
"I hope so." His smile lingered for just a second before he turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the physician’s workroom.
You watched him go until he rounded the corner. Robby noticed. Of course he noticed. Without looking away from the hallway, he casually bumped your shoulder with his.
"...You're in trouble."
You smiled to yourself. "...I know."
"And I don't think it's because of the broken wrist anymore."
You looked down at the bright pink cast and laughed. "No...I don't think it is either."
PLAYLIST: All These Things That I've Done - The Killers / Who You Are - Djo / Disarm - The Smashing Pumpkins / Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol / One Headlight - The Wallflowers
CHARACTERS: Jack Abbott, Robby Robinavitch, Dennis Whitaker, Trinity Santos, Frank Langdon, Mel King, Brendon Park
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★ = favorites!
⋆｡°✩ JACK ABBOTT
—- LIE WITH ME & JUST FORGET THE WORLD (fluff & comfort)
Summary: At a wedding, Jack can’t help but feel so lucky to be the one who gets to take you home.
Tags: tooth rotting fluff, partners also being friends, smut!, rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light dom/sub, brief mention of “daddy”, reader and jack have a happy healthy relationship, idk man it’s joyful and fun
WC: 2.8k
Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write shorter blurbs here and there to keep my lovely readers fed in between my 20k nightmare fics.
————
Jack Abbot was normal. He was fine. He was definitely not seething watching you dance with friends. The problem with dating the hottest woman in existence was that he couldn’t exclusively monopolize your time. He barely knew anyone at this wedding, it was your friend’s wedding.
She had too many sisters to have you as a bridesmaid and in the comfort and secrecy of your bedroom you had whispered to him that you just didn’t have it in you to be in so many weddings—most of your twenties had been spent traveling around the country to be in friends’ weddings.
Now, he was watching you in a gorgeous plum dress dancing around barefoot with girls you’ve known for over a decade. Some of their husbands were tolerable. Your best friend and her husband were here. Most of the time Ted was fine. Drunk Ted cared a lot about golf and Jack, drunk or sober, couldn’t give a shit.
When P!nk’s “So What” ended you meandered back over to Jack and to his surprise (and delight), collapsed in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m a little tipsy.”
“So I see,” he replied, lightly pushing your hair back away from your face. Your nice hairdo had long since come unraveled and kept falling in your face.
“I like you so much,” you said leaning into him.
“You don’t love me?” He asked with a smile on his face. You snorted.
“Of course I love you. But I also like you.”
“Thanks?”
“I don’t think all my friends like their husbands,” you whispered a little too wet in his ear. He had to resist the urge to push you away to wipe it off.
“What makes you say that?”
“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll tell you,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. It definitely didn’t look comfortable, largely speaking to your exhaustion. You had been dancing and jumping with your friends for multiple hours.
“C’mon, babe,” he said shifting your legs off his lap.
“Ugh,” you groaned standing again. “I need to tell Claire goodnight.”
“I’ll get our stuff,” he said.
The send off had been a few hours ago, before the elderly relatives had left. Now, it was just a fun party with friends. He loved watching you light up and enjoy being around your people. He loved his people, but they were far more subdued than yours.
Across the dance floor you approached your friend who threw her arms around you with heartfelt but drunken balance and coordination. It made his heart swell, watching how happy you were. Fuck, he loved making you happy. All he wanted in life was to make each day just a little easier; he wanted to do his best to make you happy.
By the time you’d extricated yourself from your friend’s embrace and made your way back to him, Jack had a hold of your purse and coat. He also had already dug your ugly Birkenstocks out of your purse so you didn’t have to put your heels back on.
“Fuck you’re so good to me,” you said, holding onto him while you slipped the shoes on.
“Well if that’s all it takes,” he replied, helping you into your coat.
He kept a hold of your bag when walking out to the parking lot. Just like his mother taught him, he held the door open on the rental car and shut it gently behind you. When he got into the drivers seat, you had dug your water bottle out of your purse.
“Ugh, I’m already sobering up,” you complained.
“So you don’t want drunk fast food?”
You gasped dramatically. “Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”
Jack laughed and grabbed your hand as he turned out of the parking lot heading back to the hotel.
“What did you mean earlier about your girlfriends not liking their husbands?” He asked pulling into a greasy fast food joint. It rarely mattered which one as the point was disgusting food.
Once the French fries and chicken and burgers had been acquired, Jack pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the lot. One of the first things you both discovered you’d had in common was growing up in small towns. It meant that you both had fond memories of idling car conversations and the occasional makeout. Even now, a long away from your teen years, you both adored your post party ritual.
“So,” you began, curling your legs up. “Abigail, not technically my friend, but she’s a good time. Was talking to me about how glad she was that her husband couldn’t come and that was fucking bonkers to me. Why would you marry someone you don’t like?”
“You would be sad if I couldn’t come?”
“Sure, I like spending time with you. It’s not like it would ruin it for me, I basically barely hung out with you tonight, but it’s fun coming back and kissing you before dancing to Pitbull songs with everyone.”
“I think that’s a compliment,” he laughed.
“But seriously!” You said nudging him. “I like being around you. It’s fun. You’re just as fun as my friends.”
“Even though I can’t dance with the energy of a drunk college girl?”
“Even then,” you laughed. “Hear anything good with the spouses?”
“Ted likes golf,” Jack sighed.
“God he’s so boring,” you laughed. “But she needs boring after the shit head she used to be married to.”
“Do your friends think I’m boring?”
You scoffed. “No, they think you’re a crazy adrenaline junky, not boring. Did you notice the groom’s sister had a fucking weird speech?”
For the next hour you both sat in the car, eating food that would clog your arteries and gossiping about the wedding. It was life giving and comforting in ways you never wanted to lose. You’d had this with friends but Jack was the first man you’d ever dated who wanted to do stupid shit with you. He wanted to go to weddings of people he didn’t know. He wanted to sit in a slightly too heated car talking shit about speeches. He wanted to do nothing and everything with you.
“What’s that look?” Jack asked.
“I dunno,” you sighed. “I just really fucking like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I really fucking like you, too,” he said. “Even if you dance like a baby giraffe.”
“Fuck off!”
When you both got back to the hotel, Jack helped you search for the various pins hidden somewhere in your hair.
“You’re so pretty,” he said mouth at your bare shoulder.
“Are you trying to get in my pants, Dr. Abbot?”
“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, bracketing your body against the counter of the bathroom. “You are, however, wearing a gorgeous dress I’ve wanted to peel off with my teeth all night.”
“Your teeth, huh?” You asked making eye contact with him in the mirror.
“God I’ve wanted to touch you so bad all night,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a soft kiss right near your hairline.
“You look so good in that suit,” you grumbled, pushing your ass back against his groin. “Kept coming back to kiss you so everyone knew you were mine.”
Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he buried his face in your neck. Being wanted by you was intoxicating. Knowing that you coveted him as much as he coveted you was more than enough to turn him on. He could feel the ghost of your cunt clenching around him. It had been two weeks since he last fucked you. Both of your jobs had been hectic.
But now, in the privacy of the too expensive hotel room, he had you at his mercy.
“Look at me baby,” he said softly against your ear, relishing in how you shivered against him. “All mine, right?”
“Only yours,” you breathed. “I’ve missed your hands.”
He ran his hands from your thighs up your dress to cup your tits. The strapless dress was held up by tape and some intricate ties in the back. He pulled the tape off your chest gently and then yanked the fabric down under your tits, bra and all. You looked so good. In the dim light of the bathroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.
“Beautiful,” he said attacking your neck again.
Having you in his bed for so long, meant Jack knew just how to kiss you and play with your chest to make you soaked. It’s like he had a cheat code to turning you on. It helped that most of the night had been subtle foreplay between you both. During dinner his hand was definitely too high on your thigh but he couldn’t bear to move it.
“Fuck, baby, take me to bed. It’s cold as shit in here,” you groaned.
“Anything for you,” he said. “How hard do you want tonight?”
“Rough,” you replied.
He wove his fingers through your hair, close to the roots and pulled. He drug you back into the main room and tossed you on the bed face first. Holding you down with one hand on your upper back, he slowly pulled the zipper of your dress down.
“Look at this sexy body,” he said. “All for me.”
You wiggled a little as he unhooked the strapless bra with one hand. It had taken him nearly a year to master, but it was one of his most used bedroom skills. Letting you go, he pulled off the dress harshly, taking your underwear with it. Then you were face down on the bed, naked and already dripping for him.
You had arched your back, preening under his gaze. With a sharp smack to the meaty part of your glute, he watched you jump and settle back into your skin. A few more spanks and he quickly shoved his fingers inside you making you gasp.
He loved all the noises and movements you made during sex. For the duration of your relationship, he had been making a running catalog of how to get you to do a sound or movement. While he harshly fingered you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, he began unbuckling his belt and pants.
“Feel good, baby?”
“Fuck me, please,” you panted against the comforter.
Shoving his pants down just low enough let out his dick, he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your wetness along his cock. Just the smell of you was sending him over the edge. He made sure to clamp down on your hips tightly, hoping to leave a bruise for you to enjoy, before careening his hips into yours aggressively.
There was a grunt as the air was knocked out of you. For a moment he paused, enjoying how you felt. Your cunt always felt so fucking good against his dick. You were so warm and wet and you clenched so beautifully when he spanked you. As much as he loved to be the one furiously fucking you, he also loved having you in charge.
He always enjoyed feeling your nails rake down his back. He was desperate to feel you closer against his skin, so while he had your hips pinned to the bed, he quickly ripped off his button up and undershirt so he could wrap his arm around your neck and pull you up against his body.
Once he felt you against his chest, he began to thrust ferociously against your cunt. He loved how it fluttered and the grunts and groans you released as he harshly pounded into you.
“Fuck, baby,” Jack growled harshly. “You feel so good. Made for me. Carved for my fucking dick, isn’t that right?”
“Just for you,” you said breathlessly.
You were clutching onto the bicep his had wrapped around your neck (more so your chest than neck, but it had the same effect). He felt you meeting his thrusts sending shockwaves through both of you.
“I love it when you’re rough with me,” you heaved against his assault. “Harder, please.”
Your tone was always so breathy and almost whiny when you got worked up like this.
“Anything for my naughty girl. Do you like this dick pounding into you. Does it feel good to have someone treat you so meanly?”
“Fuuuck,” you groaned arching against his grasp more. “You feel so good inside of me.”
“You make me so fucking crazy, pretty girl,” he hissed against your ear. “Watching you tonight was like my own personal dream. The prettiest girl in the world dancing and jumping but always coming back to me. Can’t be without me can you?”
“No, I can’t,” you whined as one of Jack’s hands roughly kneaded your tits. “Your hands are so good.”
“Rub your clit for me, baby. I want to feel you cum on my dick. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”
“Yes please,” you mumbled. He felt one of your hands leave its iron grasp on his arm. “You fill me up so good.”
Jack felt himself getting close so he pulled out and finished taking off his pants. Getting his prosthetic off quickly was a hard fought for skill, but he managed to push you flat on the bed covering your body with his own before slipping back inside of your warmth.
He wrapped his arm around your throat again and grinned at how you moaned wantonly.
“So pretty when you’re being used by me.”
“Please,” you managed.
“Prop your hips up, baby,” he said getting on his knees to allow you room.
The harsh sounds of him slamming into you filled the room while he kept whispering debauched things in your ear:
“You’re made for me and only me.”
“Using you feels so sweet.”
“Are you going to cum on my dick?”
“I’m so fucking deep, baby.”
“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”
He was so focused on making sure you came, he didn’t noticed how you turned your face.
“Please, daddy, harder,” you moaned.
His hips stuttered and to control himself, he bit into the muscle of your shoulder. He almost felt guilty for how hot he found your cry of pain to be.
“Rub your clit and say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.
Your hand snaked underneath your body, and gasping under his assault you said,
“Harder, daddy. I want to feel you cum inside me.”
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.
He was so close when he felt the tell tale flutters of your cunt against him. He nearly wept with relief you finally were close enough for him to say,
“Cum on my dick, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Milk me. Milk daddy.”
You cried out as you tensed and gasped underneath him. He made sure to keep moving as you clenched against him until your shaking thighs collapsed. He continued his furious pace until he felt himself orgasm. It felt like he came forever. When he finally collapsed and rolled over next to you, he chest was heaving.
“Daddy, huh?” He asked.
“I don’t know where it came from,” you laughed. “But you clearly liked it.”
“Surprise for me, too,” he huffed. He pulled you against him, reveling in how your naked skin felt against his.
“You’re sweaty and hot,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face against his chest. It was said like a complaint but you weren’t moving away.
“So are you,” he laughed. You tweaked his nipple.
“I’m fresh as a daisy.”
He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Want to shower first?”
“Yes please,” you said. “Will you keep me company?”
He snorted and nodded.
The accessible bathroom had a removable shower chair that he used while he waited for you. Unlike the shower at home, it wasn’t big enough for Jack, his shower chair, and you. So he watched as you tied your hair up and quickly rinsed off. He noticed your wince when you gently cleaned your vagina.
“Do you want me to check it?” He asked a little concerned.
“Nah, just sensitive. You did a good job.”
“Wow, did I get an A-plus in sex?”
“Fuck off,” you laughed.
While Jack showered, you began working through your nighttime routine. You took off whatever make up hadn’t been sweated off during the wedding or the following sex and washed your face. By the time Jack got out, you were brushing your teeth.
Before leaving the bathroom you kissed him and said, “I love you.”
“Wuv yew,” he said with his toothbrush in his mouth.
Using his crutches, he made his way back to the bed, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before sliding into bed with you. Like you always did, you slept on the side farthest from the door. It was one of the many things that lingered from the war. Jack wanted to be between you and anything unexpected.
He pulled you against him, in the dark, enjoying how warm and soft you were.
“A good night,” he mumbled.
“And good sex,” you said.
He laughed and closed his eyes, feeling so much love and affection for you leaking out of his chest.
So anyway. Robby who stumbles across you on FetLife & knows it's you from your nose, lips, & chin being visible, even if the top portion of your head is cropped out of various photos. And he knows it's wrong bc you're his resident who's always so sweet & curious, but fuck you're just so perfect & needy, wanting after a tender daddy dom to direct & love you. And, well, he already does the former often at work, so what's the harm in providing it outside of there as well?
He just needs to figure out a way to eventually tell you that it's him so he can finally have you all to himself. Because every time another man so much as loves one of your pics? Makes him fucking seethe & his blood boil from jealousy & possessive anger.
Ok, so as per the conversation we had, my request is that after "the test," the reader realizes that Robby agreed to get a vasectomy for her, even though at this point they are not together. She realizes that he must be serious about getting her back/being with her permanently, cuz you don't get a vasectomy for just anyone.
Perhaps this leads to a discussion about his intentions and she's like "i didn't know you were serious? you were dating other people? you signed the papers???"
And him reassuring her that nope he's in it to win it (her).
hiii! thank you so much for your request <3 I hope you like it!
wc: 900
warnings: feelings
don't forget to check the masterlist for more toxic content <3
When Robby asked to take the kids for the weekend, you assumed he’d be in the middle of a bachelor’s strike, or perhaps just overwhelmed. You’d spent the week organizing a matinee for Saturday and calling in favors from your parents to handle Sunday’s bicycle riding trip to the park.
So, when you were paged to the ED on Monday morning, the last thing you expected to see at his workstation was a celebratory display: colorful balloons bobbing near the monitor and a hand-lettered sign you scoffed at. Your brows knitted together in confusion.
“Hey, honey,” Robby called out from behind you.
You spun on your heel, your thumb jerking toward the sign. “‘No more Robbies’?” you asked, your voice dropping into a skeptical hum.
He leaned against the counter, looking far too pleased with himself. “It’s the nurses’ way of congratulating me on the vasectomy.”
Your breath hitched, eyes widening. “Oh? You’re actually doing it?”
His brows creased, the playfulness vanishing for a second. “I did it.”
“You did?”
“Friday.”
“Oh,” you managed, feeling suddenly off-balance.
“That’s why I couldn’t be around the kids this weekend,” he explained, his gaze dropping briefly to his own hips. “I needed to keep an ice pack in the… area.”
You winced, a sympathetic grimace pulling at your lips. “Ouch.”
“Don’t,” he warned, a hint of his old, teasing spark returning.
“You actually did it,” you repeated, feeling entirely dumbfounded.
He tilted his head, searching your expression with genuine concern. “Are you having a stroke?”
“I’m just—I… I’m surprised,” you stammered, straightening your shoulders, trying to save some face.
“Why?” He straightened up, his tone hardening. “You asked me to do it, I said I would, so I did.”
“But, like… that means something.”
His chin dipped, his lips pressing into a thin, tight line. He looked at you like you were the densest person in the room. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“You don’t want any more kids?” you whispered, the question felt too charged for a regular morning in the ED.
His mouth opened to retort, but he stopped. “You said that—”
“I know I don’t,” you quickly cut in, holding both palms up in a gesture of peace, your heart hammering against your ribs.
He blinked, visibly taken aback. “Wait. You're asking me if I want kids with someone else?”
“Not with someone specific,” you admitted, looking down at your shoes. “But yeah. Maybe someone you could meet in the future.”
“There’s not much of a future left for me,” he said, his voice flat.
“Don’t say that,” you snapped.
Robby let out a sharp, cynical scoff, but the old back-and-forth—the banter that had been the foundation of your love years ago—setteled in the air, somehow both new yet familiar.
“If you don’t want any more kids, then I am not having any more kids,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. Certainty. “We clear?”
A sudden warmth flushed through your chest, making you feel vulnerable and exposed. You had the overwhelming urge to close the distance, to wrap your arms around him and hide your dorky smile beneath his neck. Instead, you kept your hands at your sides and whined an unguarded, “Misha.”
He leaned in, ducking his head to match your height. “What?” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for the truth you were too terrified to voice. “You’re the mother of my children. No one else. I’m actually a little offended that you didn't know that by now.”
You shrugged, your shoulders lifting in an attempt to hide your awkwardness. And failed. “Well, we—we’re divorced. It’s only normal to assume you’d want to start over.”
“I only signed those papers because you asked me to,” he said quietly.
“Don’t,” you waved a hand, trying to cut him off, but he caught your wrist.
“You know my mantra,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity.
You did. He always claimed he only followed your commands, a twisted form of devotion that used to flatter you before it had turned into a weapon of his own insecurity. He moved to continue his routine, but you instinctively reached out, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie. He stopped dead, looking down at the contact.
“Wait,” you breathed.
Robby stood rooted to the spot, his eyes patient and waiting.
“Why did you sign?” you asked, knowing it was a stupid, pointless question. You’d asked for the divorce in the heat of a crisis, desperate to keep your children safe from his spiraling, aggressive depression.
“Because you asked me to,” he breathed, his voice raw. He didn't look away, even in the middle of the crowded ED. “And because I had already failed you too much.” He shifted, his gaze darkening. “Why did you sign?”
You swallowed hard. “Because I wanted you to wake up.” You paused, the air feeling thin. “But you didn’t.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. You had kept that truth like an oath for two years: you’d expected the divorce to be his wake-up call, and instead, he had accepted it as a way out.
His fingers wrapped firmly around your arms the second you tried to pull away. You watched the realization ripple across his face—the shift from hurt to hopelessness, then to a flare of anger, and finally, a devastating, quiet love.
“You never…” he mumbled, his grasp tightening on your biceps as if he were trying to keep you from vanishing.
“It worked,” you whispered, shrugging off the pain. “A little late. But it worked.”
You stood on your tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek before pulling away to find your patient, taking a deep breath in hopes to scare the tears away.
tag list (tysm!!): @wonwoosthetic @thesandbeneathmytoes @missmillivanilli @honeytii @naked-hyacinth @barnes70stark @ficcyyfics @cafekitchen
Hi!! I’ve had this Resident!Reader x Robby idea for a while. Reader has secretly been in love with Robby for ages and hides it perfectly. Then Noelle shows up in the ER, casually dropping hints that she’s sleeping with him. Reader’s heart shatters and she forces herself to move on and stop feeling anything for him. One day, reader gets brutally assaulted by a violent patient and Robby suddenly realizes the person he’s actually been in love with all along is Reader. Love your work btw!!
PAIRINGS: Michael Robinavitch x Reader
TW: reader gets attacked, stabbed, gravely injured, medical inaccuracies etc. pls be cautious whilst reading. not proof read. open-ending (ish). R basically replaces McKay in the first bit.
AN: Guys it's my birthday week yet it's also my worst week of the year (so far), I feel like I'm going insane. Anyway, this is also for another anon who requested reader getting injured however this has no comfort.
"How’s our shoulder guy?" Robby asks, joining you in the hallway as your patient is pushed out of the elevator.
"Oh, he slept like a baby. CT angio shows no vascular injury." You update him, stepping away from the patient as the porters move ahead.
"What about your slip-and-fall guy with a labile affect?" Robby steps back a few paces and you join him.
"Mm, Michael Williams. He’s still in the scanner. He seems to have settled down, so he doesn’t need babysitting."
"Good." Robby nods, "Maybe he’s coming around. Ortho can take Mr. Billings here up for surgery."
"Belay that order, sailor." A new voice behind you makes both you and Robby spin around.
"Dr. Robinavitch." The vaguely familiar woman greets Robby.
"Nurse Hastings." Robby greets back, his expression lifting in the presence of the woman, "You can call me Robby."
"You can call me Noelle." The woman smiles back at him.
You watch them in confusion. There was something clearly going on between them, that brief interaction they had put them in their own little bubble before they looked back at you. There was something you were explicitly missing —oh.
They were flirting.
It was subtle sure, if you weren't so close to overhear them then you probably wouldn't have noticed it but it wasn't just their voices. Noelle's cheeks flushed slightly and Robby's eyes crinkled in the way they do when people look at something they love and it felt like you were intruding on something intimate and private.
Your heart twists at the realisation. For the past five years, ever since you arrived at the PMTC to begin your residency, you had been in love with Robby. It had started as a mere crush like it always did and it wasn't a unique story in the slightest, you simply fell in love with your boss and when you spend twelve hours a day with them, it was easy to do so. You had debated on whether to tell him or not, and initially you had been scared of rejection and then the prospect of having to suffer working under someone who outright rejected you for next five years or go through the hassle of finding somewhere else in the country to complete your residency.
Deep down you were looking for an excuse, a solid reason to not tell him that you loved him and you found it in the employee handbook. Relationships between senior members of staff were not permitted with junior ones. You were a first year resident and he was the chief of emergency medicine, it would never work and even if you attempted something and the hospital found out, it would be you getting the boot. You loved working as a doctor, you loved your colleagues and you loved Pittsburgh and you weren't willing to give any of it up just because you had a crush on your boss.
So you buried it deep and tried to forget about it. You dated around and even had a couple of short-term boyfriends over the years in an attempt to get over him and you thought it worked until right now. As you watched him flirt with Noelle, you realised you hadn't stopped loving him at all.
They turn back to your unimpressed face, your eyes flicking between the both of them, "Uh, you could just tell me what the hell’s going on here."
"This is Noelle." Robby motions towards the woman next to him, "She’s our, um…"
"Bed control manager." You cut in, "No, we met."
"Case manager." They both correct you before Noelle continues on, "And this guy won’t be staying."
"Oh, he needs surgery." You tell her, looking back over at the man just feet away.
"Which his insurance will pay for at Westbridge Memorial, not here." She tells you.
You look over at Robby in disbelief, "Wait, so we have to transfer?"
"If… if he’s stable." Noelle clarifies, prompting Robby for the answer she wants.
"I believe that he is." Robby admits after a moment, "Look on the bright side. We’re gonna free up a bed, discharge a patient."
You raise your brows in surprise at his words. You had never heard him say that before. Sure getting a bed free was always a problem but whenever Gloria harped about it to him, Robby always fought back but maybe this new girlfriend of his is making him softer.
It sparks irritation and anger in you. You didn't take it personally, you knew it was Noelle's job but you hated all of it. Patients are brought in with traumatic injuries only to get transferred out because their insurance doesn't cover you.
"Until the next patient brought in by EMT's also has insurance that doesn't cover us and we have a carousel of patients we can't treat." You snark back, unable to help yourself.
"He will get great care at Westbridge." Noelle fiddles with her tablet before she turns to Robby, "Don’t you agree, Robby?"
Robby nods along, "I’m sure that he will."
"What am I missing?" You ask, watching them have another moment, speaking before you think. You quickly added another question to save yourself, "Is there something else happening with Allen Billings that I don’t know about?
"Not medically." Robby shakes his head.
"This is just a simple insurance transfer." Noelle adds.
"Mm, yeah, okay." You scoff, turning to Robby, "In that case, you can tell him. I have other patients to treat."
Robby eyebrows raise to his hairline, "Excuse me?"
You know you're pushing your luck now. You may be a good doctor but you were still a resident and he was still the chief of the department and your boss.
"Well it's just a simple insurance transfer," You parrot their words back at them, "I'm sure he'll understand. Especially if you tell him to look at the brightside and see how it frees a bed for a new patient."
With that your spin around and disappear around the corner, leaving them to watch you leave in stunned silence.
"What’s that about?" Noelle asks, slightly shocked at your behaviour.
"Nothing." Robby dismisses her question as they begin to walk towards the charge station.
"Didn’t feel like nothing." Noelle doesn't let the topic drop, "She's got a…personality."
"She's young, passionate, not yet broken by the politics of healthcare." Robby spills, "She has a very heightened sense of empathy."
"Meaning?" Noelle prods.
"Meaning she’s good at picking up on stuff."
Noelle's voice drops in volume as she picks up on what Robby was saying, "You didn’t say anything, did you?"
"Nope." Robby shakes his head, "I subscribe to the Falstaff advice. Discretion is the better part of valor."
You were meant to be catching up on your reports, taking advantage of the brief spare time you had between patients when your attention was pulled away by the sight of Robby and Noelle together. Robby was just with Dana moments ago, getting updates when Noelle walked in and now he was kneeling by her side, under the guise of doing up his shoelace as he spoke to her.
A wave of jealousy washed over you at the sight of them. Watching them interact during the morning had sent you into a foul mood and your attempts to pull yourself out of it were flushed away whenever they flirted with each other.
Thankfully you were given an out when a new patient popped up on the board with your name attached to it. You brush past them as head to the patient, paying them no mind and not realising they're both watching you as you leave.
"I've got a question," Noelle begins, "Do you know if she's dating anyone?"
Robby's head whips around so fast, it leaves an ache in his neck, "Excuse me?"
"From what you were telling me earlier about her being passionate and feisty, I know someone who would be great for her," Noelle shrugs.
"Who?" Robby begins to frown and for a reason unknown to him, he didn't like the prospect of you going on a date with someone. Most people keep their loved ones away from the hospital in general and for good reason but over the years Robby has seen peoples partners picking them up from the hospital or even occasionally dropping off lunch for them, but he had never seen that with you. If it wasn't for the fact that the young doctors always spoke loudly whenever they gossiped about their love lives causing Robby to overhear, he would have never known about the people you date.
"Someone from upstairs."
"Someone from upstairs." Robby echoes.
"A lawyer."
"A lawyer." Robby echoes once more causing Noelle to huff at him.
"Is there an echo in here? Why are you repeating everything I say?"
"Sorry, sorry. So a lawyer?"
"His name is Jonathan. Nice guy."
That makes Robby bark out a laugh, "Well you know how she is. Maybe you should tell him what he would be getting into."
Noelle shakes her head, "I think he could handle her."
Robby frowns and swallows harshly at that, something deep inside of him flickering in discomfort. You had been a constant by his side ever since you arrived five years ago and you were also probably his favourite resident, his protege that he brought in on every major case because he knew and trusted in your skills. He never considered you more than a resident doctor whom he should mentor until you attended a conference together in New Jersey. During the trip, you bonded over shared interests and aligned beliefs and that was where Robby first fell for you. He sought advice from Dana and Jack when he returned only to be taken back at their objection to his suggestion of officially asking you out on a date. Jack reminded him of the rules while Dana cautioned him of the repercussions that would land solely on you; you would be the one kicked from the hospital and out of your program, your career would be the one ruined and not to mention the chance of rumors spreading that you slept your way to the top. So Robby decided to step back and not do anything that would interfere with your career, just waiting for the day when you would finish your residency. He had overheard you talking to Langdon, Shen and Ellis about how much you loved Pittsburgh, so Robby hoped that even if you left PMTC, you'd stay close enough so he could formally ask you out on a date.
"So, is she single?" Noelle repeats her first question.
"Uh, I don't know," Robby rubs his hand over his jaw, "You're better off asking one of the nurses or other residents, they'd know."
Noelle nods as Perlah calls for him, requesting his help on behalf of a med student. He quickly disappears leaving Noelle with Dana who didn't hide the fact she had clearly overheard their conversation.
You hadn't had even a moment's break since then, constantly swept off your feet with patients and helping the med students whenever they called for help. It was the afternoon now and the lack of food and even water was catching up on you.
You crumple into a chair at the nurses station, head tilted back and eyes closed as you try to regulate yourself. Your stomach was so empty that it was making you feel sick and your hands were shaking as well. You doubted you even had enough energy to drag yourself upstairs to the cafeteria.
You don't open your eyes but you can still hear the noise of the pitt around you. You're left undisturbed for a while, until someone nudges your foot with a soft, "Hey,"
You slowly open your eyes to find Robby standing over you, a concerned look on his face that you don't clock immediately.
"Sorry," You shift to stand, "I'll get back to work."
"No, you won't." Robby holds his hand out, stopping you in your tracks, "You haven't eaten all day. I got you something, go take lunch."
Now you see the bag in his hand, something that he quickly passes over to you.
"Go sit outside. Eat and get your energy back up and then come back to us." Robby orders, helping you up from the chair before he turns and disappears in the blink of an eye.
You catch the eye of Perlah who had been watching the whole thing and you know that at least six more nurses will know what happened by the time you get back.
The park opposite the hospital is empty at this time, the lunch crowd had returned to work leaving the park peaceful and quiet. Once you've settled on a bench, you dig into the bag to see what Robby bought you. He got you both a sandwich and a pasta salad, which would both cure your hunger and also provide you with enough energy to get through the rest of your shift and he also got you a fruit cup and a sugary drink, things to help you get your blood sugar levels up after they had dipped from not eating all day.
You eat in peace with nothing but the sounds of the birds chirping and the occasional person walking by. You keep an eye on the time, not wanting to leave your colleagues shorthanded for too long but you make sure to not rush yourself.
You had just finished dumping your trash in the bin when you were suddenly grabbed and pulled into a small pocket of trees, just off the path. The area was not large but the trees were big enough to obstruct the view of passerbys.
"What the fuck!" You yelp as your ankle twists at the sudden action.
"Give me your money!" A voice growls at you.
You blink in surprise, taken off guard by everything that happened over the last thirty seconds. The man in front of you has a large hood on, hiding most of his face but you could still the bottom half of it.
"Give me your purse and phone!" The man threatens again, arm reaching out as if to grab what he wanted straight from your pockets.
"I don't have my purse or phone on me!" You tell him, patting your empty pockets as proof. You were scared but you hoped you could get out of this situation without harm.
"You're a doctor! You're wearing those hospital clothes and doctors have money, so give me it!" The man suddenly pulls out a knife, brandishing it at you as his anger increases.
"I just came out here to eat," You reply calmly, trying your hardest not to aggravate him any more, "My phone and stuff are still in the hospital. I promise you I don't have anything on me."
The man finally realises you're telling the truth and his posture drops in frustration. You watch him grumble to himself before he knocks his hood off to run his hands through his hair in annoyance, giving you a full view on his face. He realises what he's done too late and you can see the moment he makes the decision that would change your life forever.
"I'm sorry. You can't tell them what happened. I can't go back to prison." He murmurs before he lunges at you, knocking flat on the ground. The wind is knocked out of you, not even giving you a moment to yell out and he is quick to slip his knife back out. His movements are quick, stabbing you multiple times in quick succession before he's jumping off you, leaving you there in a rapidly growing pool of blood, hidden within the trees.
"No victim, no crime." Is the last thing you hear from him before he disappears.
You lie there in numbness at first, staring up at the trees, resigned to your fate of dying there, hidden away for months until some unfortunate soul stumbles upon your skeletal remains. You can feel the ache of your injuries but it feels numb, far away almost and you realise that's the adrenaline still running through you. It will fade soon and then you'll have to die alone, in pain.
Robby flashes in your mind. You don't want to die, you want to live and finally tell Robby the truth. Even if he didn't reciprocate your feelings, you no longer want them to weigh on you anymore.
With a sudden boost of energy and motivation, you flip yourself over so you're on your front, letting out a pain groan as you did so. Your body burns and aches as you push yourself up on your hands and knees before slowly crawling out from the trees and back to the main park. It's still empty, in that annoying sweet spot between the adult lunch crowd and the kids being released from school for the day but still you powered through. Maybe you could reach the road. Maybe.
You don't reach the road. You don't get more than a couple of feet before your arms give up and you collapse on the ground. You can't go any further, you're bleeding out too much too fast and you had used the last of your energy to crawl.
As you pass out from the blood loss, you can hear the sounds of cars and ambulances just on the other side of the park, reminding you of how close you were.
"Hey!" Dana waves Robby over to where she was at the charge station, a frown on her face.
"What's wrong this time?' Robby asks when he reaches her.
Dana says your name as she waves around a tablet, "Have you seen her? No one else has and I've got a list of people she has to see."
"I sent her to lunch," Robby frowns as he checks his watch, it was unusual for you to disappear completely, "...Which was fourty-five minutes ago. Where the hell is she?"
They're interrupted by a frantic teen running through the ambulance bay, yelling for help and covered in blood. He is surrounded by doctors and nurses immediately with Robby pushing his way to the front as he snaps on gloves.
Langdon is trying to get the boy to calm down, checking his body for injuries as someone brings a bed over but the boy keeps batting Langdon's hands away, shaking his head as he tries to explain what was happening but unable to as everyone kept speaking over him.
"Hey!" Robby finally shouts causing everyone to fall silent before he lowers his voice to speak to the man, "What's happened?"
"There's a woman across the street in the park that's been attacked! She's covered in blood and unconscious," The boy explains, twisting around to leave the hospital and lead them to the woman in the park, "She's been stabbed. A lot. My friend is with her but there's so much blood."
Robby is halfway out the doors with him, calling out over his shoulder, "Frank—"
"Got it!" Langdon stays behind collecting items that they would need with Donnie joining him.
Baran, McKay and Mohan join Robby as they rush out of the hospital with Perlah and Jesse right behind them with a stretcher. Princess is calling surgery, telling them to prep an OR while Dana is calling the police, telling them to get down and lock the scene down now.
"I think she's one of you guys!" The teen yells as they run across the street, "She's wearing those scrubs things."
"Oh no," McKay catches on before Robby does.
Robby soon realises when they head deeper into the park and find another teen boy, but this one is leaning over a body, your body, trying their hardest to apply pressure. The boy looks up at them with frantic eyes, blood soaking his clothes and spread across his face from brushing his hands across his face in distress.
"I'm trying to stop the blood but there's so much," The teen sobs, "I checked her pulse but it's barely there."
Mohan sweeps in, gently tugging the boy away as the rest of them swarm in on you. Langdon and Donnie are by their side seconds later, not missing a beat and passing them the medical supplies needed.
Robby's heart dropped to his stomach at the sight of you laying there lifeless in a pool of your blood, assuming the worst. He didn't believe the teenager about your pulse until he felt for it himself and he hated the way he was relieved at the faint pulses beneath his finger, already believing you were long gone.
He moves automatically, trying not to think about the biggest fear he never knew he had, working with the others to stabilise you enough to transport you back to the hospital. Perlah and Mohan returned to the hospital, Perlah to update everyone on what was actually happening while Mohan treated the poor boys who discovered you.
Noelle arrives in the emergency department just as you're being transported up to surgery, taken back at the mania that surrounds you. She makes her way to Dana who has an upset expression on her face as she's hanging up the phone.
"Was that who I thought it was? What the hell happened?"
Dana sadly nods, "Some poor kids found her in the park. Stabbed on her lunch break. We don't know what the whole story is. I just got off the phone with her parents, they're going to try to book the next flight out here."
"Oh God…" Noelle gasps, "She's going to pull through though, right?"
Dana gives an uncertain shrug, blinking her tears away, "They're not sure, she lost a lot of blood. They stabilised her but we don't know how long she was like that for."
Noelle slowly nods, taking a moment to take it all in before remembering why she came downstairs in the first place, "Where's Robby?'
"He went up with her." Dana pauses for a minute before she gives Noelle a knowing look, "Listen, I know you and Robby have a thing going on but I have to tell you this. Robby has been in love with her for years and the only reason he didn't do anything was because he didn't want her to lose her job but what happened today changes everything. If she survives this then Robby is going to tell her the truth and he'll try to make it work. I know he should be the one to tell you this but I want to do this so you're not caught by surprise."
Noelle stands in shock at Dana's words. Her relationship with Robby was atypical, it was a traditional relationship but it was more than friends-with-benefits and so where they stood was never exactly clear but Dana's words confirm the truth of it. It was never going to become serious and Robby had been in love with someone else the whole time and it was always going to be you over her for Robby.
It's deep into the evening when Jack finds Robby on the roof, looking over the skyline with a deeply troubled expression.
"Any updates?" Jack asks as he joins him on the edge of the roof.
Robby shakes his head. You had spent hours in surgery before being taken to ICU where not even the chief of emergency medicine could visit you.
"They say it depends on the next fourty-eight hours. If her vitals don't improve then…" Robby can't bring himself to finish the sentence, the prospect of you dying making him sick to his stomach.
Jack doesn't try to comfort him with words, they're both doctors, they know the reality of the situation. All Jack could do was stay by his side, silently reminding him that no matter what, Jack would always be in his corner.
"If she survives this I'm going to tell her everything." Robby blurts out, "If I need to I quit this job just so she can finish her residency here."
"You'd think she'd want that? Seriously?" Jack frowns at him, "We both know she would never want you to throw what you have here away just for her."
"Just take it one step at a time brother," Jack continues as he pats Robby's shoulder, "Have an open conversation. Let her decide her future otherwise you will be ending the relationship before it even has a chance to start."
"When did you become so knowledgeable about this stuff huh?" Robby attempts to joke, poking fun at the fact that Jack has refused to see anyone since his wife passed away.
"I'll have you know that the kids find me very cool and hip and keep me updated on what dating is like these days," Jack smirks, "They're very knowledgeable, you should ask them for tips."
That makes Robby laugh, his shoulders dropping from the tense hold they were in for the first time in hours.
"C'mon," Jack grabs Robby's arm pulling him away from the edge, "Let's get a drink. I'm sure Shamsi or Garcia will tell us if anything changes."
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