Summary: You're in a very sticky situation with your senior attending.
Contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (mid/late 20s-50sish), angst to smut to fluff, workplace avoidance, dirty talk, use of good girl, inappropriate work place relationship, said relationship being inspo for dirty talk, big dick robby, they're 'just having sex' but they're in love, dana clocks them immediately, robby is lowkey whipped
A/N: Michael Robinavitch how you've bewitched me... | divider from @rr-after-dark ! i kind of proofread this but not really bon appetit...ALSO this is the most smut i've ever written so if it's cringey and horrible nobody's allowed to tell me or else it'll hurt my feelings
The sun rises on another day at Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center. Your squeaky white sneakers bounce off linoleum tile, fluorescent humming above you. You take in the regular noises of the E.R.- groans of pain, monitors beeping, the ringing of phones. A small pinprick of overstimulation zings the back of your neck. You love your job, but it’s a constant performance. You need coffee.
You make a beeline to the lockers so you can get your day started as soon as possible. You wave hi to your fellow staff already clocked in on your way. You skid to a halt in the doorway upon seeing a very familiar hoodie on a very familiar back. Your heart stops at the sight of Robby, hands resting on his head in a big stretch. Your teeth suck in your bottom lip, it’s instinctive when he’s in such a state, vulnerable and meditative in his 'pre-morning minute'.
It’s something that he does each morning, takes a minute of silence before the insanity kicks in. You’ve known about it for a while now, but to see it is entirely different. It's almost spiritual.
You approach on his left side, reaching around to pinch the right side of his tummy, the delicious little sliver peeking out of his navy hoodie. It’s risky, but you couldn’t help it. It pays off when he falls for it- he always does, and whips his head to his right side, completely missing you until his peripheral kicks in, his eyes sliding shut, head hanging low as a reluctant laugh shakes his shoulders.
“Good morning, Doctor,” you mutter, rubbing your balmy lips together and avoiding eye contact.
“Good morning,” he responds, pretending to shuffle things around in his now open locker. It’s not lost on you that it was closed just moments before.
“Doesn’t look too bad out there,” you say, the small talk feeling futile considering his strong arms held you close between his sheets mere hours ago.
“Hey! No jinxing, you know the rule!” He scolds playfully, finally turning to face you. His forearm rests against the lockers, the other hand propped on his hip. You’re not so brave, unable to face him in fear you’d crumble under the weight of his gaze, his doey brown eyes glimmering with adoration as you fight the temptation to drag him out to the lobby and kiss him in front of everyone in the E.R. So, you turn away from him, your knuckles whitening around your stethoscope before bounding towards Dana’s desk. You still feel Robby’s smile as he watches you go.
The start of the day is pretty immediate, multiple patients flooding in and out of the E.R. at a rapid pace. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you assist with each one. In the chaos, you hardly even register the small brushes against Robby’s forearm, his large hand on the small of your back, his sturdy chest barely grazing you as he maneuvers the limited space.
A shudder rumbles through you anyway, shaking you to your very core. A house with a weak foundation.
There’s a change in the air when a family comes rushing in, a frazzled mom immediately ejecting her baby girl into your arms upon arrival. She rushes to Robby soon after, blubbering something about her son, who’s being rolled in by the paramedics. Robby spares you the briefest glance, silent confirmation that it’s okay to do what you think is best with the child.
You balance her in your arms, soothing her fussy cries with quiet words, rubbing circles on her back. You rock back and forth, carrying her to peds for an exam. It’s standard practice when one child comes in injured, and thankfully she comes out alright.
She reaches up for you from the examination table, her cries ebbing into little coos as she finds comfort in your arms again. Her chubby little hands exploring as much of you as she’s allowed- your pink scrubs, your claw clip, the gold studs in your ears.
You take a moment to have fun with her, juggling her in your arms, tickling her neck, lightly squeezing her cheeks. Her giggles fill the space around you. Her little head snuggles in your neck as she becomes more familiar. You rub your hands up and down her back, rocking back and forth to calm her down before reentering the busy E.R.
Your head pops up when the door opens, Robby making his way through the entrance, letting the door shut behind him. He stops when he sees you, the prolonged eye contact making your heart stop, much like it did this morning when you were in his shoes- stunned by the mere sight of him.
You can’t help but assume the child in your arms has at least a little bit to do with it. The glimmer in his eye flits from you, to the baby, then back to you again. The softness in his gaze clutches your heart, ringing it out like a wet rag. Want pools low in your belly, his round, chocolate eyes piercing right through you.
“Uhm-” he clears his throat, ringing his hands together as he looks to the ground. “You done here? How’s the sweet girl?”
The nickname flip flops in your belly.
“She’s good! No problems over here, except for a deprivation of snuggles, as you can see,” you readjust her once more, hooking your hands under her armpits and raising her to eye level. “You just needed snuggles, huh? Yeah, yes you did!” You ask in a high pitched voice, holding her close once more at her squeals.
“Please don’t make me give her back,” you draw out your plea, a soft tone and your widest eyes, a small pout jutting your lower lip. In your more…casual moments, he calls this your ‘Kill Me Cocktail’.
He’s drinking it now, the apples of his cheeks tinting the brightest red under the scruff of his beard. He rings his hands together once more, backing up slowly towards the door until his back meets the wall rather violently. He's then smushed by the open door opening, squeezing him between itself and the wall. Dana pokes her head in the open space.
“Hey love, you seen Robby?” She asks, her hard brow softening at the sight of you and your new friend.
“Yeah!” He gruffs, sliding out from where the door trapped him. “Right here!”
His cheeks burn even brighter now, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. This makes things even worse for him, though, as he nearly trips over Dana on his way out of the room.
“Make sure baby gets back to mom for me, will you?” He asks, before jetting off in another direction.
“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do?” Dana calls after him, even though he’s long gone.
Her head turns back to you, a brow quirked. Guilt and anxiety pool in your stomach, like you’re a child being sent to the principal’s office. Dana has that effect on people. She’s also been suspicious of you two for weeks now, ever since you came into work the day after a rather late night out with coworkers.
“That was the most unlike him I’ve ever seen,” she remarks pointedly.
You nod, your own cheeks now burning, “Yeah, I don’t know,” you blubber out, your own speedy heart rate now catching up to you. “Where are the parents?” You desperately try to change the subject, but Dana is never so kind.
“I’ll take her, we don’t need you passing out over your attending,” she takes the baby with another pointed glare, and you take it as your sign to get back to work.
You meet a different doctor’s needs, deciding it’d be best for your current mental state to assist someone who wasn’t inside of you mere hours ago.
-
The room is so thick with white hot desire, you’re swimming in it. Your arms loop around Robby’s neck, pulling him close so you can nuzzle your sweaty forehead into him. He doesn’t let you get away with it for too long, lightly nudging the point of his nose at your jaw, pressing a quick kiss there before pulling his head back, lifting your head with his hand, “so I can see your pretty face,” he tells you, kissing you plainly on the lips. You're on your side, leg hitched on his hip, his length hitting your deep, sensitive parts.
His words churn your insides, your heart fluttering in ways it definitely shouldn’t for your senior attending. You can’t help it, not when he moves his hips further, deeper into you, cooing in your ear as he thrusts, unforgiving and oh, so loving. You squeal, resting your head on the pillow, allowing him to roll further on top of you.
You maintain eye contact, his round, brown eyes wide and hazy. You love seeing him like this, uninhabited by the stressors of the work day, calm and relaxed.
Your hands reach up to grip his biceps, nuzzling your head into his strong forearm, propped up by his hand on the pillow.
“Michael, it feels so good” you mutter, so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you that you don’t even realize the slip.
He does, though, his hips coming to a pause inside you. It’s then that it clicks, your heart dropping into the acid pool of your stomach, your veins running cold.
“Robby-” you whisper, but he stops you, fingers on your lips to silence you as he starts his hips up again.
You take two of them in your mouth, wrapping your lips around them and bobbing your head slightly. You maintain eye contact, looking up at him through your lashes. A soft groan escapes his lips, driving his hips even deeper. You close your eyes, moaning around his fingers.
“Say it again,” he demands, taking his wet fingers from you and dragging them down your neck, your chest, circling your sensitive nipples. “Call me Michael again.”
“I’m getting close, Michael,” you tell him, reveling in the flutter of his eyes. “You’re so big. Feels incredible,” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his forearm, sinking your teeth in a little bite shortly after.
“Me too, angel,” he groans, leaning in to plant a searing kiss on your lips.
You melt into it, sucking his bottom lip in your mouth. It invigorates you, his lips on yours, compelling you to push his shoulders back until he’s flat on the bed. You crawl on top of him, sinking down his shaft in record speed. The delicious sting of his reentry hits you like ice dripping down your back.
He lets out a dangerous groan at your actions, his hands wasting no time gripping your ass, helping you find a steady rhythm. You drop your hands to his chest, your ass slapping against his hips in wet bounces.
“You’re so pretty,” he mutters, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. “How did I get so lucky? Hm?” He asks, gripping your hips so he can sit up.
He pulls you to him, pressing his hand on the small of your back so he can feel your tits against his chest. It’s his favorite feeling, or so you’ve been told.
You fall into him at his touch, sloppily pressing your lips against his. You start to bounce in this new position, and Robby, ever the caregiver, scoops his hands underneath your ass. He lifts you up and down on his lap, and you can’t help but let yourself be pliant for him.
“How’d I get so lucky, getting my pretty nurse to bounce on my dick like this?” His words steal the air from you, a searing heat burning deep within you.
”Y’know, when you first started, I had no idea you’d be so good for me. Guess I should’ve, with the way you always listened, never did anything you weren’t supposed to. Perfect girl. My good girl, hm?” The words dribble from his lips, a stream of consciousness he graces you with as he rubs your clit.
“Ohgodyes,” you whisper, the white hot pleasure in your belly nearly unbearable as he relentlessly pounds you on him. “Mikey, oh fuck, I’m your good girl,” you moan, throwing your head back as the pleasure starts to surge, the wave at its peak, just before a crash.
“Yeah, you are,” he affirms, kissing your cheek. “My good girl’s gonna come for me, isn’t she? You can, go ahead,” he permits, and it’s over.
The rush is monstrous, you squeal on top of him, yet he’s still bouncing you like your life depends on it. Your body tenses, your back arching and pressing your softness further into him. It spurs his own release, his dick twitching and pulsing inside of you.
“Fuck, I’m coming. Sweet girl, I’m coming,” he grunts against your ear.
You rake your nails down his spine as he finds his bliss. You squeeze hard around him, sure to get every last drop. A long groan rumbles his chest as he comes with you. He grips the back of your head to bring you in for a kiss. You tongue laps at his, giving him small, sensual licks between sloppy kisses.
A fuzzy calm takes over your body, you’re now fully slumped in his arms. He feels it too, you can tell by the relaxed hum rumbling in his chest, the soothing circles he rubs on your back. He kisses your head, resting his chin at your temple.
“You did so good for me.”
-
Dana catches you dozing off, your eyes glazing over when you should be charting your new patient’s medical history. She quips at you lightly, giving you a quick nudge to get you back up to speed.
Your cheeks burn at the reminder, and you quickly bury your face into the chart, attempting to type away any thought of Michael Robinavitch. At least, until you clock out.
You continue to make the rounds for about an hour until you’re caught, pulled from your Robby-less reprieve. A whiny cry comes from your right, and you instinctively turn to see familiar chubby hands reaching out for you.
“Oh, hello again sweet girl!” You coo, unable to resist her, even though it means you’ll have to see Michael again.
“She was asking for you,” Dana says, handing her over.
“Whining and crying’s more like it,” a deep timbre surprises you from behind.
You jump, immediately averting eye contact as Robby speeds past you, officially bringing you back on his rotation. You focus on the baby to try and get rid of the sinking feeling in your stomach.
He walks three strides ahead of you, updating you on what you’d missed. His tone is short, avoidant. You’re not used to the dust he’s kicking in your face. It’s bitter, and you’re walking twice as fast, trying to keep up with someone who usually only walks beside you.
Robby grinds to a halt once he’s back at his patient, and you nearly bump into his back. You hold the baby closer, soothing her while he checks on the brother. His eyes pierce a hole through your back as you juggle the sweet girl, reveling in the way she giggles, grabs at the loose strands of hair falling out of your claw clip. You nuzzle into her cheek, her laughter infectious.
Whitaker gets in on the fun then, playfully prodding her cheeks, squeezing her little wrists. You laugh with him, grateful to have a small, Robby-less bubble. That is, until he decides to pop it.
“If my staff could get back to work, that would be amazing,” he quips, not even bothering to spare a glance your way.
Your veins run cold at his tone. Your mind flits back to the night before, to the warmth in his eyes while you were in his bed, the gentle stroke of his knuckles against your cheekbone. Your heart sinks at the thought of it, contrasted with the harshness of his tone, the harsh stomp of his feet as he sulks past you.
You watch him, baby in arms, eyes wide as he maneuvers around you, purposefully keeping at least a foot of distance between you two in the tiny cramped space.
It’s petulant, the way you react to his behavior, but you can’t fully blame yourself. You like to think any woman would react this way. The man who, just mere hours ago, tore you apart to put you back together, is now ignoring you, pretending like you don’t exist.
You startle at the glare Dana shoots you across the hallway, awareness blooming in your chest like a thorny rose. You avert your gaze in record speed, jostling the now fussy baby. She writhes and whines, and you bounce yourself on the ball of your foot, swaying left to right as you gently shush and coo.
“Can you please take her somewhere else, calm her down a little?” He snaps at you, his back to you, chin resting atop his shoulder. He still refuses to meet your gaze.
You catch his eyes squeeze shut, releasing a deep sigh before turning back to the baby’s sibling. That’s when it clicks for you. Annoyance pricks at your heart, a cactus sprouting deep in your chest.
It’s the baby. He can’t handle seeing you with the baby.
You roll your eyes and scoff, sauntering back to peds, annoyance lacing your every step. You make sure to sway your hips a little extra, too.
-
You rock the baby, who’s now sideways in your arms. Her eyes are begging to close, her little body not quite letting her sleep in the foreign setting. You whisper a scratchy, hopefully soothing, Somewhere Over The Rainbow. She seems to like it, a giggle babbling from her lips as she snuggles further.
Your head snaps up at the click of the door opening, Dana’s head peeking through the small opening in the door.
“Hey sweetheart! How you guys doing in here?” She whispers.
“Not bad!” You hush back. “I’m just trying to get her down.”
She slinks in, opening her arms to take the bundle of joy. You hand her over, relief dawning on you like an early morning sunrise.
You slump into a chair against the wall, leaning back against it with shut eyes. Dana takes a seat next to you, the baby already asleep.
You throw your hands up and scoff, partly in awe, mostly in envy.
“How did you do that?” You whisper, mouth agape.
She shrugs. “Two daughters. You never lose it. Maybe you’ll get there one day,” she nudges toward you as much as she can with a baby in her arms.
Your cheeks burn hot at her comment, that burn of awareness stings your chest, your face. You cover your face with your hands, as if trying to hide the fact that you’re in love with your attending.
“What’s going on with the old guy?” Dana asks, deadpan.
A pitiful laugh bursts out before you can stop it, the flame in your cheeks burning hotter as the reality of your feelings sit deep in your chest.
“I love him,” you mutter, resigned and utterly hopeless, a tear slipping from your eye. “I think he loves me too. He’s being a bitch about it, though.”
“Sounds like him,” Dana rolls her eyes and stands, gently rocking the baby. “Don’t worry. I can’t speak for him, but I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about. Well, besides him being a little bitch,” she supposes, lifting her shoulder.
You laugh again at that, wiping at the stray tear that splashes from your waterline. “Yeah. He is being a little bitch,” you nod, looking down at your folded hands in your lap. “You really think he loves me, too?” Your voice is small, woeful.
Dana purses her lips, her eyes saying “well duh!” Her words are kinder.
“Of course I do. I can see the way he looks at you. I’ve worked with that man many years, and it’s very rare to see the light in his eye when he looks at you. Hard to deny,” her words crack your chest. “Just talk to him, it’ll be alright.”
She nods before handing the sleeping baby back to you. You cradle her close to your chest, her tiny thumb finding her lips. You glance back up at Dana, eyes glossy again.
“Thank you,” you smile, soft and pretty. She nods, turning to brace the busy E.R. again.
You’re not ready to go out into that world again, content to snuggle with your little friend for a little while longer. This is why your heart spikes when the door stays open, the lively chatter and clatter of the world beyond seeping its way into your makeshift haven.
“Hey, we need you out there,” Robby’s gruff voice barks.
Your eyes nearly roll behind your skull.
“Michael. Get in here and shut the door, she’s asleep,” you whisper sharply. He immediately listens, squeezing in and shutting the door quietly.
The silence that befalls you two is deafening, the air so thick it’s like you’re moving in slow motion. He walks over, slow yet sure, sliding into the chair next to you. Your eyes never break contact. The entire world opens up in his eyes. It’s painful, the clutch in your heart as he looks. Just looks.
You instinctively hold the baby closer, for your comfort or hers, it’s hard to say. His eyes shine with something a lot like grief but also a lot like love. You still say nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, slicing through the suffocating agony.
“Thank you,” you whisper back, your smile tilting up in a small smile.
“You have no idea…” his eyes find the ground, his elbows on his knees. “You have no idea how much you scare me,” he confesses.
“Seeing you with that baby, after what happened last night…” he trails off, knowing exactly what he’s thinking about. The moment you first called him Michael.
You’d crossed a line in that moment, one you can’t go back on. You both knew that. You both liked that, too, you’re pretty sure. The complications this will bring, though, Robby is not ready to handle. He tells you so, his own brown eyes glassy.
“Hey,” you whisper, bringing the baby to the exam table. You lay her gently on the foamy bed, so she can sleep peacefully, without the baggage of two anxiously attached health care workers.
You walk back over to Robby, sitting not beside him this time, but perched on his knee. He melts at your actions, just like you knew he would. He can’t resist feeling the weight of you on him, in any capacity. Just a reminder that you were there, you were real, that was enough.
“I was annoyed. I’ll be honest,” you tell him, and he nods a bit shamefully, gaze falling to the floor.
You lift his chin up with your finger, forcing his eyes back on yours. You sigh, really getting a good look at him. You think he’s so pretty like this, worn from a hard day’s work, eyes round and soft and tired.
You press a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose, your hands finding his shoulders, running down to his biceps, moving over to his pecs. He shivers at your touch. You lean in, pressing your lips against his to whisper, “I love you, you know that?”
He nearly chokes at the confession, and you feel him chub up beneath you at the confession. You smile to yourself, fighting back a giggle he wouldn’t be able to resist. His arms come up to grip your waist, pulling you close and nuzzling his face in your neck, inhaling sharply.
“I love you too,” he mutters, eyes closed in what now looks like bliss. Your stomach flips at the sight, eager to make him cry once your shift is over.
“That’s enough,” you whisper, placing a chaste kiss to the shell of his ear. He shudders.
“For now, that’s enough, okay Michael?” You clarify, pulling back to look in his eyes.
He looks back desperately, nodding his head in agreement.
“For now,” he repeats. “We have more to talk about when we get home, I know.”
Your heart sinks at the idea of this conversation, of bureaucratic rules and sneaking around at work. It can’t be completely sunk, though, because Michael called his apartment home. Not his place. Home.
It’s your turn to repeat him. “At home,” you confirm, resting your forehead against his.
“I love you,” he whispers, placing one last kiss against your lips. “We gotta get back to work, angel,” he reminds you.
“One more,” you insist, pecking him once, twice, three times.
His brow furrows, a groan escaping his lips at the temptation. He presses a large finger against your mouth, pulling himself back and away from you. He pops you off his knee, taking some deep breaths.
You follow in his footsteps, fanning your burning cheeks in order to prepare for E.R. reentry. He moves to pick up the baby, who’s starting to stir.
“Oh, hi!” He coos, his big, strong arms wrapping around her tiny tummy.
It clicks for you, then. What he was feeling earlier, what caused him to be a dick to you. It’s this. This aching, burning feeling. It permeates your entire body, chest, stomach, in between your thighs.
You can’t stop your brain from fast forwarding five years in the future, an even greyer Robby, cheaters resting on his nose, balancing your own baby on his hip while you prepare breakfast on a Sunday morning.
“Oh, Michael,” you gush. “Now I get it. God, I love you,” you gush, unable to contain it.
He knows exactly what you mean, a smirk lifting his lips as he lightly rocks the baby back to consciousness.
“It felt like my whole body was on fire,” he admits, his cheeks tinted pink. “I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
“I know what I need to do, and that’s get back to work,” you redo your hair, tightening it in your claw clip once more. You move towards the door, hand on the handle. Before you twist, you turn back to face Michael.
“When we get home, though?” You poise, and he lifts a brow. “That’s going to be an entirely different story.”
❝ DR ROBINAVITCH ! ❞ michael “robby” robinvaitch x wife!er dotctor reader (0.8k blurb)
synopsis : how the new members of the pitt find out that the er has not only one — but two dr. robinavitches
warnings : set during season one of “the pitt”, hospital setting, mentions of car accident/injury, no use of y/n, just the pitt being the usual chaotic family and dana being no.1 robinavitch supporter<3
a/n : this man and his sad boy eyes have bewitched me body and soul so ofc i had to write something for him (even if it’s just 800 words of pure comfort fluff bc let’s be so real we all need that, especially after season two) jack abbott we all need you to look out for this man. i hope you enjoy it !!
masterlist
the first days new student doctors and residents joined the pitt were always fun.
you, dana and robby had a recurring tradition; a sort of bet really; where you guessed how long it would take each of the newbies to figure out you and michael were married.
you would silently scribble your bets on a little sheet of paper, exchanging amused glances thorough the day.
ocassionally princess and perlah joined your little game. while langdon and garcia rolled their eyes at your childish antics; although they would never admit it — they also had their silent estimates.
this year it had happened completely on accident; as it did most of the time. but to your utter surprise, it ended up occurring in front of everybody. which somehow made it far worse and far more entertaining simultaneously.
you were filling in your patient's chart, chatting with dana about a new recipe you wanted to try; when an unfamiliar voice called out.
"dr robinavitch?"
robby was in the trauma bay, supervising a cricothyrotomy. your ears instincitively perked up, naturally assuming the patient was looking for you.
"yes?" however two voices rang out at the same time. one was your own, and the other your husband's — who apparently had finished with the patient in trauma two.
you whipped your head around, eyes landing on robby who was standing just outside the room he was supposed to be in moments ago. he removed his gloves before rubbing hand sanitizer between his palms. sporting an amused glint in his eye, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
the patient looked stunned for a moment; unsure which of you he was supposed to refer to.
you straightened your spine and cleared your throat, noting the burning stare trinity was shooting you and the bewildered look on whittaker's face. she muttered something to javadi who seemed as equally shocked as the rest of them. you heard dana stifle a laugh behind her palm.
"i'm sorry… which of you is my daughter's doctor—?" the patient scrambled to figure out.
you opened your mouth to speak, ready to assist the man but robby's voice cut you off.
"me and my wife are both doctors; you can feel free to refer to her as dr robinavitch and to me as doctor robby." he spoke; loud and clear for all to hear. langdon shook his head, clearly entertained by the interaction as mel sputtered beside him.
"wait- are they like… married, married?" you heard her whisper to the senior resident.
"i fucking knew it…" santons muttered under her breath.
"perhaps you could tell us the name of your daughter, that way we can make sure the right dr robinvaitch explains the situation to you." dana interjected.
"i assure you, either dr robinavitch is perfectly qualified to take care of your daughter. although i must admit; children tend to have a natural preference for my wife." robby shot you a knowing smile.
you shook your head, a familiar warmth spreading in your chest at your husband’s words.
"oh— she's…" the man was about to speak up, but suddenly the er doors swung open, and a critical patient was rolled inside.
"high-speed MVC, head on collision, restrained driver." the paramedic rattled off as everyone swung back into action.
robby gave you a nod; i'll take care of this. before turning around and hurrying back inside the trauma bay with langdon and the others at his side.
you finally opened your mouth to speak up.
"so, you would be lara's father?" you offered gently.
"yes… yes… that would be me." he nodded his head.
"okay, great." the name immedieately clicked. she was in north fourteen. stable after an asthma attack in school.
"can i see her?" he squeaked nervously.
"of course." you gestured for him to follow you.
just as the two of you were about to head towards the north wing mckay stopped you.
"hey, perhaps dr mohan could assist dr robinavitch? good learning opportunity." she suggested, that familiar teasing tone in her voice.
mohan was just returning from her other patient when she registered her name being called. "what— isn't dr robinavitch in trauma two?" she furrowed her brow.
"nope." mckay chimed in. "she's standing right in front of you."
you offered an innocent smile as you watched the same surprise wash over mohan's features.
"oh… of course, i would be glad to come along." she quickly masked her surprise with a polite cough as her gaze sweeped over you.
she had clearly been harboring her own assumptions, as she didn’t turn to question you.
"great." you replied, the three of you disappearing behind the corner.
"i knew it." princess smiled at perlah, the rapid tagalog indecipherable to foreign ears. "told you each year it would be harder and harder for them to hide it." she raised her brows as perlah nodded along.
"don't know how she puts up with him — inside and outside the hospital…” the other woman countered.
dana suddenly appeared behind them, a gut intsticnt telling her what or rather who the two women were discussing; even if she did not understand the language they were conversing in.
"did you see the looks on their faces?" she let out through a laugh.
"absolutely priceless." perlah threw in. "every single time."
"god," dana sighed. "i love having two dr robinvatiches in the er."
summary: you’d done an splendid job of hiding your feelings for your attending for four years, but at one fateful night, everything changes.
warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, imposter syndrome, insecure? Reader, she pulls back from others, chief resident!reader, unprotected sex, DOWN BAD reader, unrequited love but not really, happy ending, English isn’t my first language<3
word count: 10.5k+
an: this is very self indulgent and I may have projected a LOT into reader. It might be a deal breaker for some of you but this reader is… very important to me, the whole fic is. Kinda probably being delusional and ooc with how Robby handles it but yeah… i hope you enjoy it!!!!
You must breathe. You must. You can’t pass out from holding your breath for too long because you are looking at him; it would be humiliating, really, awfully humiliating. You are way stronger than that. You have done this for years, you can do it for another shift.
If only your heart listened…
You feel the rise of your pulse, the thump of your heart against your ribcage, and you can even feel your stomach twisting in anxiety. Fuck. Fuck. You like this man so much that it is making your belly quiver, and butterflies flutter in your lungs.
You look away from his disheveled hair and big puffy jacket, sighing shakily as you glance down at the tablet in your hand. You have to stop thinking about him like that, he is just a man. Not any man, though; he is sad cow eye Robby, the attending, whose smile in praise makes you grin in delight.
Stooooop, you mentally curse yourself, shaking your head slightly as you try not to think about him anymore. You have patients to focus on, not how his mere presence lights up your day. Nope, you shouldn’t go there, not now anyway.
But how can you not? He is tall, broad, with a giant heart of gold that has helped you so many times when you’ve felt the horrible pressure of the job on your shoulders. He is sweet, caring, and tough when he needs to be.
He is everything, and you are just… you. Younger, unseasoned — or at least not as much as him — still a resident, less charismatic, and so not his type. You’ve seen his ex-partners, all gorgeous and way out of his league; of course, he wouldn’t look twice your way.
“Hey, kid,” Dana waves a hand in front of your face to get your attention, startling you a little, “You good?”
“Yup, just had a rough night. Didn’t get much sleep,” you smile at her, convincing enough that the Dana Evans believes you. You have gotten way too good at lying to everyone’s face, courtesy of having a fat crush on your boss. If anyone, nature fucking forbid, ever finds out, you’ll be doing the Walk of Shame very soon.
“I doubt anyone has, look at ‘em,” she scoffs, pointing at the staff who are yawning and resting their heads on their stations, “Dancin’ and drinkin’ like they didn’t have work to do next mornin’.”
“You all went out?” Big mistake, Dana’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise at your tone, and you cover the stumble with a smile, “Tequila does that. Maybe we should give fluids to everyone?”
“Honey, we thought–”
“It’s okay, I’m not that much of a party person anyway,” you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to busy yourself with the list of charts in front of you, “Besides, I had to study, like always.”
You don’t let her say anything else, walking away after you hand her the tablet, marching toward one of the rooms to check up on your patients.
It is not an unusual thing for them to have plans outside of work and not invite you. Yes, you have been here for four years, yes, you are the Chief Resident, but there is still an invisible wall between you and everybody else. You are the ‘smartass’, the perfect resident, the always studying until passing out girl, and also… someone who doesn’t think she fits into this tightly woven group of doctors and nurses.
You get along with all of them pretty well, joke around and share lunchtime together, but that doesn’t mean they are your friends. You don’t belong among these amazing people, and that’s okay. Having no strings attached to this place is for the best, because when you leave for an attending spot in another state, you can finally move on from Robby.
It’s not for the lack of trying on your end, you tried to understand them, tried to put yourself in their shoes, and see yourself from their point of view. You’ve joined them for beers a few times in the park, but they have had some inner jokes that you felt uncomfortable laughing at, thinking they might find you too intrusive.
And also… Robby. Anytime you are around him, you have to act to make sure he doesn’t see through you. This version of you that talks to him, that breathes the same air as he does, is not the real you, or maybe it is to some extent, but you can’t duel too hard on it. You are sure of one thing, though: he wouldn’t like the real melancholic in love you.
“Morning,” Perlah smiles at you, putting on the patches on the patient’s chest for an EKG, “How are you feeling today?”
“Eh, not too bad, it’s too early to start complaining,” you reply, going to the computer to see the patient’s chart, humming as you scroll through the notes the night shift has left, “We’re gonna have a hard day… It's the anniversary of Pittfest.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she shakes her head slowly, “It’s gonna be brutal, isn’t it? Robby’s…”
“Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot to handle,” you nod in agreement, giving her a small smile before looking down at your shoes, “But we can get through this, as a team. Like we always do.”
“Yeah, we had a discussion about this last night, actually– oh, fuck me… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
“Perlah, you’re fine, don’t worry,” you put on your gloves to assess the patient, sitting on the rolling stool to get closer to the bed, “I’m still studying for my Boards, so don’t sweat it.”
“You’ve been studying for nearly a year now! You’re gonna do great,” she squeezes your shoulder before stepping away to round the bed and check the patient’s vitals, “You need to relax a little…”
“Relaxing isn’t a word in my vocabulary.” You grab your stethoscope to listen to the patient’s heart and lungs, “Breath sounds are good, we just need to–”
“Hey.”
Fuck me and my life sideways.
“Good morning, Robby!” Perlah grins, following your words for the patient’s medication, giving you a little time to get your breathing back to normal.
“Fuck, sorry–” you didn’t look where Robby was standing before you stood up, and now you are standing chest to chest with your attending’s hands steadying you by gripping your arms.
He is so close, so fucking close that you can smell his woodsy cologne and aftershave. He looks way better from this angle; his nicely trimmed beard, his big brown eyes that seem more gentle than any time you’ve seen them.
“Don’t worry about it,” he gives you one of his easy smiles that makes you weak in the knees, “Just be careful next time. It could be Whitaker you knock out if you stand up like this.”
“He isn’t as fragile as you think,” you snort, acting as normal as possible at the warmth of his fingers wrapped around your biceps, trying not to faint from the close proximity, “But I keep that in mind, thank you.”
“Anytime,” he nods and lets go of you, taking a step back to give you a bit of space, and you have to ignore the ringing in your ears as you feel your nipples brush his chest when you move past him. “You’re already with a patient, I see.”
“I need the distraction before I have the next few days off,” you shrug, not daring to look at him because if you do, you might give out the tiniest clue about your feelings, so you stare at the keyboard under your fingers, “And hoping to leave on time.”
“You really don’t like this place, huh?” He chuckles as he walks behind you to look over your shoulder at the screen. He has done this before, several times in fact, but it never gets easier, and Robby doesn’t make it easier either. “I thought you’d be settling nicely after all these years.”
“This is not the time– to discuss my fucking personal life when my patient is coding, FUCK–” you run to the bed, flattening it down before starting compressions after seeing the flatline on the monitor, “Perlah—”
“Joy, Whitaker, in here!” Robby yells for the students to join you before he steps back, giving you room to work on your patient, “You got this?”
“Yeah!” You reply, not taking your eyes off your work, you’ll deal with him later. Now you have to save this poor guy; Robby can wait. He has to.
****
“Tell you what,” Donnie slides next to you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes at him so hard with a smirk on your face before resting your elbow on the countertop of the staff lounge, “A birdie told me you have the next few days off–”
“A birdie who happens to be my attending?” You ask with a soft scoff, oh boy, he was paying attention. Blinking at Donnie and waiting for him to continue, while you try to ignore the warmth growing in your belly at the thought of him listening to you.
“Mayyyybe,” he throws his hands up in defeat, “Guilty as charged, but!”
“Donnie, I can’t–”
“You don’t even know what I wanted to say!”
“I have my boards coming up in a few months–”
“You can spare us a few hours, right?”
Fucking kill me. Or him. Or both. He has to stop coming in unannounced with that beautiful smile and his dimples and...
“You need to stop snitching on me.” Turning your back to them, you reach for the coffee pot to pour yourself a cup in one of the plastic ones, “I might have a few days off, but I also need to sleep and study.”
“I promise you’ll do much better if you take a break for a few hours.” Robby leans on the doorframe, watching you closely, “They even convinced me to go out with them.”
“Wow, walking in unclaimed territory? How brave of you, Dr. Robby,” you say, looking between him and Donnie, who are waiting for an answer, “You guys are teaming against me. I’m defenseless.”
“Does this mean you’ll come tonight?” Donnie asks, raising his voice as you push past Robby slowly, ignoring how his large frame covers most of the space.
“I’ll think about it, now, please stop bothering me, I need to get back to work,” you shoo Donnie away, making your way to your work station, sitting down with a long exhale, rubbing your forehead as the image of Robby crosses your mind again.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
Fuck him.
You log into your account, letting go of the badge on your chest to do some charting before you hear the familiar footsteps of him walking past you to his station that is unfortunately across from yours.
You’re not gonna look at him. You won’t. You shouldn’t. Today is already sucking the energy out of you with the heavy traumas rolling in; you can’t let your stupid crush do it as well.
But how can you look away? He looks so peaceful as he types, his eyebrows relaxed for a few seconds before he frowns at the screen, reaching for his phone in the pocket of his cargo pants.
His hair is tousled a little, soft short strands in the front going in so many directions that you know is the result of him running his fingers through them over and over throughout the day.
“Hey, smartass,” Dana calls you, and you glare at her before standing up, abandoning your coffee, “Code STEMI four minutes away. Teach those kids somethin’, they’ve been wandering around like ducks.”
“Half of them were with Samira, and some with Dr. Robby. Why are they not busy?” You ask, reaching for the hand sanitizer, rubbing the liquid between your fingers and palms as you point at Joy and Javadi to join you, “Ready for some action?”
“Not really,” Joy groans, “I don’t know how you decide to wake up and do this every day.”
“Trust me, I don’t know either.” You walk with them to the gurney the EMTs are rolling into the floor, “They pay enough to keep me alive.”
“Weren’t you attacked by a patient last week?” Javadi asks, falling into a rhythm beside you, nodding when Joy gawks at her, “Yeah, she was on nights,a nd a drunk patient pushed her face-first into the ground–”
“Okay, maybe they pay enough to almost keep me alive,” you roll your eyes and nudge them forward, “Let’s move, everyone!”
****
You sigh, dropping your forehead on the locker in front of you, letting your body breathe for a second. Rough doesn’t begin to cover this shift; not many deaths, luckily, just a patient that coded, but the heavy traumas that came in were brutal.
You aced every case that was thrown into your hands, A+ work, and an amazing patient satisfaction score—a great example of how a chief resident should be, just not in your own eyes. Of course, you know you did great, but there is still this hollowness inside your heart that screams imperfect in such a high-pitched tone that sometimes you have to silence it by burying your nose into your medical textbooks.
Now, you can’t, because Donnie managed to pull a frustrated ‘yes’ out of your mouth to their tonight’s get-together. Maybe he did it out of obligation because Dana and Perlah told him how you found out about last night, or maybe he genuinely wanted you there. Either way, you are going to this bar and have a few drinks before you go home and sleep your days away.
“Are you going too?” Mel comes out of nowhere, making you jump out of fear, letting out a little scream, clutching your shirt over your heart. She grimaces a little, giving you an apologetic smile, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“I know, it’s okay. I should be more aware of my surroundings,” you reach to rub her arm gently, and you relax immediately when she doesn’t pull back or flinch. The first time you tried to do that back a year ago, she wasn’t as welcoming as she is today, rightfully so, and you gave her time as she adjusted to The Pitt, and by extension, she got more comfortable with you. Not as friends, but enough to find some solace in your company, “And… yeah, I’m going. What about you? Any plans?”
“I have to pick up my sister,” she says and moves to her locker to take her backpack, “And I have to get takeout too. I might have a busy night ahead.”
“Yeah? Good for you, honestly. I could do with some sleep, but eh, promised Donnie I’d go. I don’t wanna hurt him when this is like… the first time I’m invited to a night out.”
“First time? I thought you’d join them in the park every night.”
“Not really,” you shrug, slinging your bag on your shoulder, grabbing your phone from the locker, and closing the metal door shut, “I mean, I do go out to the park with them when they mention it. Other times I just… I don’t like to intrude.”
“That’s understandable,” she nods, grinning at you before she starts walking out of the hallway, “See you in a few days!”
“See ya, have fun!” You wave at her, walking through the floor and toward the exit, ignoring the patients that are piling up because they are not your responsibility right now.
None of the crew is around, so you suspect they have already left for the bar, which is just what you want now: a little peace and quiet before you have to slide into your amazing acting role again.
The fresh air is exactly what you need; a little chilly, which raises goosebumps on your skin, but also warm enough that it doesn’t require you to layer up with a thick scarf and two shirts under your jacket. September air is always the best.
You breathe. A deep inhale that goes through your nose and cools down your face and lungs, before you exhale the warm air slowly. It is good to know you can still keep going even if you are feeling wrecked.
“Hey! Wait!”
Your ability to drop dead right now is very high. His voice… fuck. You can find him even in a concert so loud, if he just starts talking with his gravelly raspy voice that rumbles through his chest and moves past his chords. The same voice that says your name, orders the med students and keeps the ED from falling apart. The same voice you wished you could hear in a slightly different way.
“Hey,” you mutter quickly, giving him a curious nod as he jogs toward you, his backpack swinging with each step, “I thought you’d already left.”
“I wanted to, but Jack kept me behind for a patient,” he pants as he stands next to you, flushing from cheeks to neck so beautifully you have to look down at your shoes to regulate your heartbeat just as he does for an entirely different reason, “I hope… You don’t mind me joining you on your walk there?”
“What? No, no, of course not,” you say with ease, the mask coming up again, “It’s a short walk anyway. We’ll be with them soon.”
“That eager to get rid of me?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows at you, and you have to bite your tongue not to say something or worse, fucking moan at the sight, “I promise I’m good company.”
“I did not– why are you teasing me?” You shake your head and walk away from him, and Robby slides next to you, “I know you are good company, I didn’t mean that you’re not!”
“It’s okay, I took offense only a little,” he chuckles when you groan and hide your face in your hands, his arm brushing against yours as he walks side by side with you, “What do you plan on drinking?”
“Good question, I want at least ten margaritas and hopefully three gin and tonics on Donnie’s wallet because he dragged me here. You?”
“You plan on getting shit faced, I respect that,” he chuckles and his voice sends shivers down your spine, “Hmm… I don’t know. I think I could go with classic Bourbon neat, or I could have a couple of beers. Definitely no plans on getting wasted as you do.”
“Live a little,” you say, tightening your grip on your backpack. You have to stop, but you can’t, not when he is looking at you the way he always does, careful and gentle. “You could start with a good Espresso Martini.”
“Noooot a fan of my caffeine and alcohol blended together,” he shrugs, giving you one of his bear-shaped smiles and shrugs, one of those that make your pulse skyrockets, “But I never say no to a good Gin.”
“You’ve got good taste,” you nod, thanking everything between the earth and the sky when the bar comes into view, walking a little faster to get away from him, even for a second, enough to take a deep breath but he is fast and catches up with you, not leaving your side, “Ah, there they are.”
He hums and waits for you to fully go past the door before following you inside. Ever the gentleman, he even held the door for you. You have to stop, or you would one hundred percent embarrass yourself.
“Heyyyy, look! Our rockstar chief residentis finally gracing us with her presence!”
“Fuck all the way off to Mars, Donnie,” you slap his shoulder playfully, hugging him and squealing when he decides to twirl you around a little before putting you on the ground, “That was not necessary!”
“It definitely was,” he scoffs playfully, leading you to the booth everyone’s sitting in, “Enjoy the night before your four days of sleeping and laziness.”
“Hell yeah,” you groan, looking over your shoulder to look at Robby, finding him smiling and shaking his head, averting your gaze before he manages to catch you red-handed and nudge Donnie in the elbow, “You are definitely buying me my first margarita though.”
“Absolutely!”
****
“I’m g’nna get another drink!” You stumble to the bar counter after Donnie gave you a thumbs-up. With slow and unsteady steps, you manage to get yourself through the crowd and sit on one of the stools with a loud sigh, “Can I order somethin’?”
“Don’t you think you had enough?” A pretty lady comes to you, and you grin when you see her bartender badge. “I can get you your drink and a glass of water.”
“Both, please and thank you!” You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, leaning on your elbows on the countertop, “For my driiiink… hmm, I think I want a Whiskey Sour! And cold water? Please?”
“Coming right up!”
You sit silently, feeling the buzz of the alcohol in your ears. You try, you really, really do, but even laughing when Cassie and Dana laugh, or when Donnie tries to do shots on the table, it still isn’t enough to get them to fill you in on their inside jokes, or maybe they do, but you feel like an outcast. Whatever it is, you want to be a part of their group, a friend to them, more than just a smartass or chief resident to them.
But the fitting in is not because of your shy and introverted personality or them not wanting you in, maybe it is on a small scale, but it is not the main reason. It is because of him. Robby. Michael fucking Robinavitch. The man who stole your heart.
He is beautiful when he blushes, and now his cheeks are probably hurting from grinning for so long. His face is red, flushed to the chest probablyو with his lips wrapping around the rim of his glass. He is handsome, deliciously so. His beard is nicely trimmed, and his hair is cut in a way that makes his neck stand out way more.
“Here you go,” she hands you your drinks and moves to another customer, letting you drink your whiskey sour with a deep sigh.
“Enjoying the night?” Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t catch a break from him.
“Yup,” you hiccup, drowning the rest of your drink without looking at him, licking the liquid off your lips, “Love how I don’t belong anywhere. It’s so cool, it makes one wonder what they did wrong.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, oh is right,” you scoff, glancing at him for a second, finding him exhaling before taking the empty stool next to yours.
“What’s wrong? Why do you not… feel like you belong?”
“Not the best convo to have when I’m drunk, but if you insist,” you shrug, and look at him finally, finding him listening so intently, waiting for you to fill him in. He looks exceptionally good tonight, with his cargo pants still on and a clean green long-sleeve shirt that clings to his biceps in the best way, and frames his belly just right.
“I do.”
“Ugh, it’s stupid!”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“It is! Because if it were anyone else, they’d have already made friends!” You cry out, your feelings pouring into your hands, “I’ve done everything! I thought- I thought I was enough to fit in, but fuckو it’s hard! And then there’s…” you take a deep breath and stop talking before you tell your biggest secret to your biggest secret.
“What?” He presses slightly, pushing your water towards you slowly, “Drink this for me, sweetheart.”
“Nothing,” you shake your head hysterically, reaching for the glass without further consideration, and he hums in approval as you take a large sip, letting the cool water go down your esophagus, “Nothing…”
“C’mon, you can trust me, ya know,” he leans forward a little, decreasing the distance between your bodies, “I won’t tell a soul.”
“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not, I’m sure. You can tell me.”
“I can’t tell you about you–” you gasp, watching his eyes widen in shock. The reality settles in, and you feel your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck–”
“What do you mean?” He chuckles in disbelief, a playful undertone in his voice as he looks at you a little more closely, “Come on, you’ve talked more than you wanted to already.”
“Nothing,” you hiss, drowning the rest of your water before trying to stand up, but the world gets dizzy around you for a good, lasting second. Robby is quick to grab you by the waist, holding you steady and safe between his spread legs.
Both of his large hands are gripping your hips tightly now, pulling you forward a little so you can use his shoulders to keep yourself up. He looks fucking enchanting like this, gazing up at you with concern and a boyish enthusiasm you have only seen in him when he would talk to Nurse Hastings.
He is so warm and broad under your arms, his shoulders are hard under your fingertips as you use him to stand straight, looking into his eyes with a pout. You can never have him, but if this is the closest thing you get to experience with him, then so be it.
“I could help, you know? My therapist says communication is the backbone of–”
“Shut uuup, oh my god!” You whine, pouting even harder when you see how he is trying to talk to you — or get you to talk to him — and it makes your heart clench in adoration. How you love this big, sad, pathetic, gorgeous man with chocolate pudding eyes.
“Am I the reason you haven’t found any friends yet? Because I can talk to them–”
“If I make friends, they’ll know I like you!”
You need to die. Like. Right now. Right fucking now. The ground needs to open up and swallow you whole before you melt into a puddle from embarrassment.
Fuck the Margaritas and fuck the Gin Tonic, and also fuck that Whiskey Sour you had. They had you telling your biggest secret to the last person who should have known.
Your stomach growls in disapproval, and you can feel the ball rising slowly. Pushing Robby away, you dart outside of the bar to empty your stomach, tearing up a little as the acid burns the back of your throat, but at least you feel better now.
“It’s okay, let it all out,” Robby pushes your hair out of your face, rubbing your back before handing you a wet wipe you are sure he pulled out of your bag, “You’re okay. Drink a little water for me?”
You nod silently, wiping your mouth and chin before throwing the wipe in the trash, snatching the bottle from his hands. You do not want to be rough with him, but now he knows. He knows you like him; he doesn’t know it happened in your intern year, but he knows how you feel, why you haven’t managed to find friends — not the full story, but still enough.
“I didn’t know you had feelings for me–”
“We’re not gonna talk about this.” You grab your phone and bag from his hand, marching away from the bar, but to your very unfortunate luck, he follows you, “Go inside, Robby!”
“No, come on! You can’t just tell me you like me and leave!” He yells, falling into a step behind you, “Just– wait a second!”
“Why?” You turn around suddenly, pinning him to his spot with a harsh glare, “I’ve been trying my damn hardest to keep this to myself. It’s just a crush, I can get over it, alright? You’re not that special. I’ll move on when I get my board and attending position.”
“But you haven’t made friends because of–”
“It’s my burden to bear, not yours. And as I said, it’s just a fucking crush.” You don’t explain more, groaning in frustration as you basically jog into the sidewalk and walk back home.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t know that he is that special to you; he is everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and he is out of your league, worse, he is your fucking boss. And of course, he now knows you like him.
At least he isn’t aware that you don’t like him, but you love him.
****
“Good morning, rockstar,” Robby slides next to you against the central, a shit-eating grin on his face as he puts a coffee cup between your hands, “Did you have a good break?”
“It’s too early to deal with you, Dr. Robby.” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, remembering every word you said to him in your drunken state, and now? He is fucking smiling at you like that didn’t happen, or worse, he’s decided to torture you with that information.
You were dueling about running away on your days off. You could have easily picked up your car, a luggage full of clothes, and gotten on the road away from Pittsburgh after you quit medicine for good. Or you could show up and act like you’d blacked out.
“I got you coffee.” He pushes the cup between your fingers gently, nudging your foot with his, “I know you like it black and bitter.”
“You never get me coffee,” you squint your eyes at the cup, running a hand down your neck, “What are you doing, Doctor Robinavitch?”
“I got you coffee.”
“I see that,” you hiss at him, heart pounding against your ribs as you turn your head to look at him, “You never pay attention to how I have my coffee. You never get me coffee.”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” he leans on his palm on the central, moving a little closer and tilting his head to look you in the eye, “I thought after our last conversation–”
“Absolutely fucking not–” you grab the coffee and try to dodge his arm, but he is quicker, falling into a step next to you with ease. You can see the smugness in his face, and it only makes the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings harder and faster, “Stop following me!”
“I’m not following you, I’m walking with my chief resident to her next patient,” he pushes his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, “You wanna tell me when everything started?”
“You wanna tell me why you are being a jerk?”
“I’m not a jerk, I’m curious–”
“Wrong thing to be curious about,” you take a sip of your coffee, melting a little inside at the thought of him buying you coffee from your favorite spot, too. “If you excuse me–”
“We gotta talk about it, rockstar–”
“We don’t. We never should. I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking correctly, I said something, and I regret ever agreeing to come to one of these shitty get-togethers after work. I need to work now, so please, let me do my job. And you don’t ever have to worry about my stupid feelings towards you.”
You march away from him, going into the closest examination room and pulling the curtains, relaxing when you find it empty.
You know you overreacted, you know you should have slowed down, but how could you really? You’ve been carrying this secret for four years, and suddenly the only person who wasn’t supposed to find out is fully aware of it.
Although you are mad at yourself and him, you catch yourself smiling at the bitter taste of coffee. Whoever has told him about this must know you very well, but you doubt anyone is close to you enough to know how you take your takeaway coffee.
If this were the first interaction after that night, you are already dreading the rest.
****
One approach turns into two, then three, and then you lose count. He is everywhere. And by everywhere, you mean it. Every turn, every room, every stop. He is just there.
It annoys you because you are sure your adrenaline levels spike when you see him way more than before. Your face burns when he catches your eyes and gives you an easy smile, or a wink — fuck, you had to make a beeline to the bathroom the first time he did that to splash water on yourself before you passed out — and worse, he stands way too close to you.
Coffee becomes a regular thing; some days it is accompanied by a croissant or an egg and bacon sandwich. He even ordered you lunch a few times, for himself too, and tried his hardest to bribe you into eating the food with him in the staff lounge, which you declined and thanked Dana for pushing you into an incoming trauma.
Never was anything physical or complimentary outside your work in the past few months, at least not until now.
“You look beautiful today.”
Simple, right? No. NO. Your eyes are probably as big as his head when you turn to look at him, but you notice something different in his smile, something shy, almost, but his eyesare twinkling in mischief as they did before.
“What?” You whisper, clutching the tablet in your hand as you stand in a secluded hallway with so little space between your bodies; he isn’t crowding you, but he isn’t standing at an appropriate distance either.
“I said you look beautiful today. I noticed your new scrubs and earrings. They bring out your features–”
“What the fuck are you doing, Robby?” Robby. Not Dr. Robby. Not Dr. Robinavitch. Just Robby. You are mad, your heart is leaping into your throat, and there is a pinkish tint on his cheeks that makes you want to reach out and kiss him right on the cheekbone. Or slap him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what, sweetheart?” He looks genuinely confused, and it only makes you whine and stomp your foot on the ground, “Am I… upsetting you?”
“No, and that’s the fucking problem!” You say with a soft whimper in your tone, “I tell you I like you, and then suddenly you are bringing me coffee, lunch, snacks, and then you start calling me beautiful.”
“I’m trying to be nice–”
“You are being cruel!” You don’t realize when tears begin to fall on your face, “You are purposefully pulling on my pigtails and do-do things that make me feel happy, and you know that I fucking like you and it’s making me go crazy! I hate that you know that, and you are using it against me! You are teasing me, and ugh! I hate it!”
You storm off, without even glancing at him, moving straight for the locker room, crying harder when he follows you with urgency.
“I didn’t mean–”
“If you keep doing this, I will quit and leave!” You grab your stuff and put on your jacket before slamming your locker room shut, pushing Robby out of your way forcefully by slamming the tablet to his chest, “Stop playing with my feelings. I’ve been doing just fine for four years! Don’t fucking make my life hell!”
“You… you’ve liked me for four years?”
“At this point, I don’t like you, I love you, but you’re making it really fucking hard to move on!” You furiously wipe your tears, staring into his eyes for a hot minute, “I will, though, I will move on when I get out of Pittsburgh.”
“What–”
“I’m done for the day,” you leave without even glancing at him anymore. He stands there, alone, with a heavy heart, before he starts to follow you, but Dana is quick to grab him by the arm when he is close. His head snaps in her direction, his eyes burning with tears.
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“I… I told her she looked beautiful?”
“You— then why the fuck did she leave?” She gawks and looks at the path you took in shock, “You told her you liked her, right?”
“I… no? I didn’t even tell you–”
“Cap, you literally circle around her like a male bird wanting to mate. I don’t know if she likes you…”
“She’s loved me… for four years,” he tears up, hot drops rolling down his cheeks, “And I tried to show her that I liked her too but–”
“Four years? And no one knew?” She drags him to his work station, pushing him down on the chair with a soft frown, “How did I not notice?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know…” he pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes after handing the tablet to Dana, groaning in frustration, anger filling his body, “I’m so fucking disgusted by myself.”
“You have to fix it, we are already down a senior resident…” Dana slips behind a computer, sighing in relief when she finds what she needs to, “After the shift… you’ll fix it after your shift.”
****
You are studying. Again. The boards can’t come any faster, it seems, and you are heartbroken and frustrated by yourself and Robby. You thought you could handle him knowing your feelings amidst the situation of him being overly doting and teasing you.
But you couldn’t, not when he was looking at you with his perfect cow eyes that could melt your heart. He was so… so frustratingly beautiful and sweet when he would hand your coffee and follow you around.
If only he felt the same.
Your nose is practically buried in your books when you hear the knock. It is slow, steady, and echoes in your apartment. With hesitation, you stand up and walk out of your reading room, your sock feet dragging across the cold floor as you approach the door.
You gasp when you open the door, eyes roaming Robby’s body as he stands with his hands in the pockets of his huge riding jacket, eyes red and wide like yours. Your heart skips a beat at the idea of him crying; the reason doesn’t matter, but this time it should, because it has led him to your door.
“Can I come in?” He sounds so small as he looks down at his shoes, waiting for you to respond before he looks up and starts rambling, “Or I can just say what I wanna say, and then you can slam the door in my face, but I have to–”
“Come in,” you step aside gently, pulling the door open for him, looking at his back as he eases into the space of your apartment, slowly taking off his riding jacket and draping it over his arm before he turns around, “What are you doing here, Dr. Robby?”
“I came here to apologize.” He runs a hand through his hair, not knowing what to do with his body as he stands tall in your hallway leading to the living room, but he knows what he wants to do with his words: “I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. That-that possibility was not even on my mind; it didn’t even come as a thought to me. I thought that your little crush was cute, and I wanted to make you happy, and in the process of that–”
“You were teasing me, Doctor Robinavitch, that’s different from trying to make someone happy,” you say in a clipped tone, hugging yourself closely as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, “You enjoyed how I… How I got distracted at my job, especially after you found out that medicine is what keeps me tied to this place, yet you used that–”
“I don’t want medicine to be the only string that ties you to The Pitt,” he takes a step forward, and you take one back, inhaling shakily when your back hits the wall, “During the past few months, I started to see you, not as my resident, definitely not like I used to. I saw you, truly, what you like to eat between traumas, what flavor of Monster you hide in your locker room in a water bottle filled with ice – which is a very strange way of keeping a beverage cool when we have a fridge – anyway, uh…”
He scratches his beard, his eyes meeting yours in an unhurried gaze, and he finds the unshed tears that you have been holding back all night in order to study, begin to wet your eyelashes.
“I began to know you, the person you have been shielding from me and everyone for years,” he takes another step closer, his free hand moving to ghost over your cheek, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you, “You are fucking brilliant, do you know it? You move like you own the department; you are unstoppable. And so, so pretty when you are teaching. Did I ever tell you how good you are at explaining procedures to interns? It feels like you have years of experience, but it’s just you. The talented, magnificent you.”
“I… I didn’t know you thought about me like that.” Your lips begin to tremble, breaths coming out in quick puffs of air, tears finally rolling down your cheeks as you stare at him with desperate anticipation, “I didn’t think you’d notice me beside my work.”
He smiles, one of his radiant smiles that warms up your body and pulls his cheek up into the most gentle expression you have ever seen. He finally lets his fingers graze your cheek, his dry knuckles move across your soft skin, and he can’t bring himself to look away from you, not even for one second.
“I always notice you because you are one of the best residents I’ve ever had,” he finally cups your cheek, leaning down a little, “But I started to… notice personal things; like every time you chew on the end of your pen when you are concentrating, or,” he chuckles a little, “Or when you’d grumble under your breath when someone had taken your snacks, or… when you try to laugh when you don’t even understand a joke.”
“I don’t–”
“I didn’t know a woman could be as adorable and beautiful as you are before.” Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you gaze into his eyes. He wipes off the small tears that stream down your cheeks with slow and delicate movements, “But you… You are captivating. And I am very sorry for being a dick to you when I really wanted to start getting to know you more and potentially asking you out if you wanted to know me too.”
“I’ve been in love with you for four years; of course I want to get to know you too.”
You lean in and capture his lips softly, hands moving up his chest slowly before wrapping your arms around his neck. He kisses you back, a little more feverish than you do, letting go of his jacket to hold on to your waist, pressing you into his body to feel every curve of your form, making you sigh into his mouth.
“I don’t want to…” You gasp when he nips at your bottom lip, his heavy lids widening as he hears your words, but you chuckle breathlessly and shake your head, “Not tonight. I don’t wanna have sex with you tonight, Robby–”
“Michael, call me Michael,” he whispers, pecking your lips a few more times before moving down to your cheek, peppering your face with kisses until your tears are dried and you are giggling, “We can do whatever you want. I can even leave–”
“No!” You whine, locking your fingers around his neck to keep him right where he is, “I don’t want you to leave, I just… not tonight. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were hoping for–”
“I came here to grovel for making you tear up and leave the shift early today, and also how I was the reason you thought you couldn’t fit in amongst the people who love you so much,” he kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger on the spot, “Sex was the last thing on my mind. Whatever you’d like to do, we’ll do exactly that.”
“Do you want to stay the night?” You whisper, playing with the neckline of his scrubs, not daring to look into his eyes at the moment, fearing he’d say no and leave despite him telling you he’d do anything you say. “You could say no–”
“Sweetheart, look at me,” he cradles your face in his palms, forcing you to meet his intense eyes, “I want to stay, I want to sleep here, I want to stay with you. If I ever say no, you are allowed to slap me.”
“I won’t hurt you,” you relax immediately at his words, wrapping your arms around his middle, resting your chin on his chest, “But I will exile you to the couch.”
“Good to know,” he laughs, kissing your forehead again before he lets go of you to bend down and pick up his jacket, kicking off his shoes to the side nicely before he grabs your hand and squeezes it, “Bedroom?”
“Mhmm,” you nod and guide him through your apartment, biting your cheek to stop the grin forming on your face. Robby. In your living space. Wanting to sleep here. Wanting to know you better. Wanting to love you the right way.
“Your place is beautiful.”
“Oh, please, I can barely find time to decorate this place.” You push your door open, extending your hand to grab his jacket, leading him to sit on the edge of the bed, “You can give me your scrubs to throw in the washing machine.”
“I don’t have spare clothes with me–”
“Well, you could sleep naked–”
“And you said you didn’t want to have sex,” he pulls you into his lap with ease, holding you by his hands on your waist, “Trying to get me naked before bed.”
“I can still throw you out of my apartment, trade carefully,” you rub your nose against his, enjoying how he closes his eyes to feel the sensation even more, “But… I have spare clothes for you, I think. My father left a few things here last time he visited me.”
“Lovely,” he kisses your shoulder over your shirt, “You look tired, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I need to get some sleep,” you lean down to rest your head on his shoulder, “I’ve been studying for hours again. My eyes are burning.”
“You are going to pass the boards, and I’m telling you as someone who’s trained residents for years,” he hugs you close, and you melt in his embrace, enjoying the way his long arms engulf you and make you feel safe, “You gonna do amazing.”
“Thank you,” you kiss his neck one last time before slowly wiggling your way onto the bed, looking at him playfully, “Go and wash up, I’m gonna find clothes for you.”
“Okay,” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he stands up and points at the bathroom, “There?”
“Yup, you can see the laundry basket in the corner,” you wait for him to walk into the bathroom before flopping down on the bed, panting and staring at his jacket on your bed, bringing the fabric to your nose, smelling his cologne, and grinning to yourself.
It is unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. Robby is in your bathroom, cleaning himself and changing clothes. He is going to sleep in your bed. In your house. He is going to hold you.
Fuck, he even kissed you.
This is something out of your wildest dreams. Kissing Michael Robinavitch was one of the few things you were sure you’d never experience. But he is here, telling you he likes you, telling you he wants to try, and it’s making you giddy.
You hear the water stop, and you roll out of the bed to grab the clothes you promised, finding only a gray t-shirt that could fit him after you lower his jacket on the chair in the corner of the room.
“Hey,” you turn around, finding him standing in the doorframe of your bathroom with only his boxers on, his chest turning a bright shade of red when he notices you eyeing him up and down. He chuckles a little, running a shy hand through his hair as he approaches you, “Could you find something?”
“J-just a t-shirt?” You hand it to him, turning around and making a beeline for your side of the bed, taking off your socks with your back to him, “Sorry, no pants.”
“It’s fine if you’re okay with me sleeping—”
“Yeah, yeah! It’s okay!” You try not to sound so flustered, but the reality of your crush sleeping behind you with just a shirt and his boxers on makes you dizzy. “Do you want anything?”
“No,” you can hear the smugness in his voice before you feel the bed dip under his weight as soon as you lie down. Your breath hitches when he scoots closer to the middle of the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to his body, and you have to bite your tongue to stop the soft whimper from falling from your lips.
It’s not sexual. It’s warm, it is more of a purr than anything, like you are finally where you are meant to be after rejecting it for so long. Robby pulls the covers over your bodies before he cages you between his arms, burying his face into your neck.
You feel safe, and that’s more than enough to knock you out to a blissful sleep in Robby’s embrace.
****
You’re being dramatic. He wants to be here; if he didn’t, he would leave immediately after he apologized. Hell, he wouldn’t even apologize. But there is a tiny voice in the back of your head that is shouting in the distance that you need to go, you need to pull away.
You should study. Right. You can leave the room and be back before he is up. He likes you… But does he really?
You feel his arm tightening around your waist in his sleep, keeping you against him with a firm grip. How can you think he doesn’t want you? It isn’t how you can, it is the very insecurity that has been bottled over the years telling you that is the truth.
He was pressured into this. If you kept your mouth shut that night, he wouldn’t need to go out of his way to make you feel comfortable. He wouldn’t be obligated to do anything about it.
You sigh, enjoying the warmth radiating from his hand on your skin for a lasting minute before you slowly slip out of his hold. You want nothing more than to cuddle him tightly and kiss him and hold him, but the hesitation that you feel is messing with your head. What if he really came here out of force to keep you from quitting? What if–
“Hey…” Robby grumbles in his sleep, reaching for you after he blinks rapidly and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to him.
Your head snaps in his direction, lips parting in surprise as he gently grabs your wrist, a small frown making its way to his face. He looks so peaceful like this, all the grinding hard work of the ED faded away with sleep, at least for a few hours.
“Go back to sleep…” You don’t touch him back; instead, stare at his face with a deep fondness. You don’t deserve him. He isn’t the most perfect man, quite far from that actually, but he is… endearing, whole-consuming, enough to set your skin ablaze.
“Why are you up? What time is it?” He groans and sits up on his elbow, squinting to look at the watch on the wall of your bedroom before giving you an unamused look, “Five in the morning? Please, get back in bed.”
“I have to study,” you pull your hand away and try to stand up, but he is quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist again, “Robby…”
“I told you to call me Michael,” he gently tugs you down, and you let yourself be moved until he is sitting against the headboard with your back to his chest, both of his arms wrapped tightly around you as he looks down into your eyes. “You need to take a break, sweetheart. I’ve seen you studying for so long, even in The Pitt sometimes. Unless it’s not about actually studying… Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, it’s not you, it’s–” you take a shaky breath, hands coming up to hold onto his biceps, “I… I thought you… nevermind, I let my head wander off–”
“Listen to me,” he brings his hand up to cup your face, his grip firm and steady to make sure you are listening carefully, “If I have to remind you that I like you and want you every hour of the day, I will. Because I want you, and I’m not fucking around this time.”
“I thought you were doing all of this because you felt forced to,” you rush out the words, pressing your ear to his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart, “It’s so fucking stupid, I know!”
“It’s not, I promise you, it is not stupid at all,” he kisses your forehead, “I’m not forced to do anything, sweetheart. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be. But I do, I want you so fucking much–”
You crash your lips into his, clinging to his arms with desperation, kissing him with all the strength you have got inside you, and he reciprocates with a small chuckle, moving his lips with yours in sync. His thumb strokes the apple of your cheek as he devours you.
You wiggle in his hold until you are straddling his hips, lips still locked and tongues tied together. You slide your palms under his t-shirt, breath shuddering when you roll your hips and find him already half-hard in his boxers.
“Hmm, you are feisty,” he groans when you scoot a little closer and start grinding over his bulge, both hands moving up to his to feel the heat of his skin, “Are you sure you wanna go this fast?”
“I need to feel you right now,” you gasp against his lips, pushing up the fabric of his t-shirt until he grabs the back of the fabric and pulls it off quickly, giving you time to breathe and take off your clothes in haste before you crawl back into his lap, underwear abandoned on the bed.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he trails his hands up and down your hips, squeezing the flesh and biting his lips as he lets his fingers wander over your exposed skin, reaching around your body to undo your bra, latching his mouth to your collarbone, “Fuckin’ love you like this…”
“Michael,” you sigh his name, enjoying the way your hands explore the broadness of his shoulders while he gets rid of your bra and starts kissing your breasts and sinking his teeth into the flesh, “Fuck, baby…”
“I got you, beautiful,” he whispers into your skin, grunting when you drag your bare pussy against his thin boxers, making his cock jump in excitement, “Jesus, you are so fucking warm.”
“Please, I need you,” you push him back a little to make room for your hands to travel down the expanse of his chest, pulling on the hem of his boxers before he starts pushing the fabric down his ass and thighs until his cock is free, bobbing with desire.
He is big. You didn’t expect anything else, but to see it finally, and not imagining it still knocks the breath out of your lungs.
“You should let me prepare you–”
“I’m not joking when I say I’ll start spiraling if you’re not inside me by the next minute,” you drop your forehead on his, locking your eyes with his as you line up his tip with your wet hole, “I’m so pent up I could probably come from just sitting on you.”
“You don’t wanna know how I’m doing, sweetheart,” He groans, gripping your hips tightly when you slide down on his throbbing cock with ease, both of your lips falling open at the sensation, “I can come just by looking at you.”
“Y–you feel so good, Mike,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, nails digging into his shoulders as you begin to roll your hips, his cock reaching deep into your core and stretching you out in the most delicious way, “I’ve always imagined doing this with you.”
“Yeah? How did you imagine it, sweetheart?” He grunts, bending his knees and leaning back against the headboard to have more space to help you bounce on his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he follows your movement, “How many times did you imagine it?”
“So many times I lost count," you throw your head back, closing your eyes when he starts thrusting his hips up, driving his cock deeper into you while he clings to your body, “I thought our first time would be sweet, a-and not… not rushed, fuck…”
“What is this? Another of your fantasies?” He leans forward, attacking the column of your throat with kisses and bites, groaning and squeezing your body the faster you move, “Did you think about us fucking too?”
“All the time!” You hiccup when he reaches between your bodies to play with your clit; and play he does with how he rubs quick circles then pulls back when you shudder, only resuming his attacks when you grab his wrist tightly and roll your hips in an angle that his tip nudges your sweet spots, “Fuck- fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come–”
“Come for me then,” he gasps when you clench around him, your warmth engulfing and choking his dick until he is throbbing inside you, “I’m so close too. Can you come with me, huh? I know you can, C’mon, sweetheart.”
Your orgasm washes over you intensely, making you jolt forward and hug Robby tightly while your hips stutter and thighs begin to shake. He isn’t in any better position; you are just too tight and too warm, and he is losing himself in the feeling of you.
He follows you soon, his cock twitching and filling you up with his thick load, wrapping his arms around your back and shoulders as he thrusts a few times inside you, biting your collarbone to muffle the groan that falls from the depths of his chest.
“You okay?” He asks, still breathless and sensitive as he holds you close, relaxing when he feels you nod and mutter a tired ‘yes’ under your breath, “Let’s get cleaned up and then we go back to bed.”
“You don’t have a shift tomorrow?” You ask, slowly lifting yourself from his lap to lie down on the bed, humming when he hovers over you to kiss you sweetly on the lips before he gets off the bed to find a towel in your bathroom.
“Nope,” he shakes his head as he walks back, crawling on the bed next to you to wipe off the mess he made between your legs, swiping the towel gently, careful not to touch anywhere that could be too sensitive, “I’d not be this relaxed if I had to go back there.”
“You’ll stay then?” You caress his arm when he settles back beside you, pulling you into his chest, smiling and holding you right above his heartbeat.
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
****
This has to be one of the worst shifts he’s ever had. In his top ten, definitely. Not because it is crowded or they have some horrible traumas rolling in. No. It is bad because he doesn’t have his chief resident here with him.
He should be used to this, not having you around. If it were seven months ago, he wouldn’t care really, but now he does, because he wasn’t in a relationship with you before, so the distance didn’t hurt as badly as it does today.
You are having the day to yourself, spending the hours on the bed or, as he very much insisted, using his card to buy anything you wanted because you deserve it after the hellish few weeks you had to study before your Boards.
He is walking out of a trauma when he hears your voice, mid-conversation with Santos as they make their way to the central.
“Michael!”
He has at most ten seconds to brace himself before you abandon all the HR rules and throw yourself into his arms.
“I did it! I passed the Boards!”
“You did?!” He asks, laughing in excitement before he pulls back a little to cradle your face in his hands, pulling you in for a quick yet feverish kiss in front of the entire department, “Why am I even asking? Of course you did! My brilliant girl, I knew you could do it.”
“Wouldn’t have done it without your support,” you kiss him back, grinning and rocking on your feet in happiness, “I also had an interesting interview upstairs… someone had put in a recommendation letter for me.”
“Hmm, very nice of him, you should ask him out.”
“Good thing I’m already dating him.” You wink at him, tightening your arms around his neck as he does around your waist, “Would be a shame if it was Abbot who wrote it though–”
“Don’t even think about it,” he shakes his head before he notices Dana and Donnie approaching, “What’s going on?”
“I’m gonna say something, and you can’t say no, rockstar,” Donnie starts, pointing at you, “The only answer we’ll be accepting is ‘yes, thank you, we’ll be there’, got it?”
“I don’t even know what you're gonna say!”
“We're going to throw a party for you because you passed, and we will not–” he brings his hand up to stop you from interrupting, “We will not accept no for an answer.”
“You don’t have to–”
“We want to, honey,” Dana rests a hand on your shoulder, “We love you, and we want to show it.”
“I…” you look back at Robby, and he has to stop himself from pouting at the small lingering hesitation and insecurity in your eyes. Instead, he kisses your head and squeezes your waist.
“We want to celebrate you. We can cancel it if you’d like. But we really, really want to do this for you; it’s the least we can do after all these years.”
“It won’t be a bother?” You ask in a hushed tone, blinking at him with a shy smile,” Because I’d hate if you–”
“Nothing is a bother when it comes to you, sweetheart.”
“Okay…” you turn around and look at the nurses, “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you–”
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Dana pulls you out of Robby’s arms, hugging you tightly without even glancing at the man, “You gonna rock this job, kid.”
“You accepted the spot?” Robby smirks, crossing his arm and looking at you with playful eyes.
synopsis when your and Robby's son joins PTMC he sees just how much his parents have to deal with, including Myrna, the gift that just keeps on giving, and she thinks trading in the older model for the younger is a good investment (4.1k words)
warning language. parents reader with robby, mom!reader, preganant reader! general hospital stuff, allusions to smut, allusions to sex work!
authornote a very lovely anon pointed out that Myrna would love to tease Carter because he looks so much like his dad and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I love Myrna. I tried finding out more about her for this and all I could find was that she's apparently a sex worker? I don't know how true that is but there's hints to it in this fic. Thanks to anon for the idea! robby gif credit to @emziess, john carter gif credit to @erotizmas
pitt masterlist! part one 'the kids aren't alright'!
“VIP, room twelve asking for you,” was never a good thing to hear. VIP's meant family and friends, or on the other hand - frequent flyers that had been in enough to know their favourite doctors and nurses faces and names and who to ask for.
You hung your head and sighed before dragging your feet over that way.
“Might want to take the cuffs,” Dana added, sending you on your way.
You pushed open the door to twelve and was greeted with cigarette breath and stale perfume.
“Hey, sugar tits!”
“Myrna,” you greeted. “I thought we agreed we'd stop meeting like this.”
She chuckled, showing off teeth that weren't particularly white anymore, stained by years of smoking and drinking. “What can I say? I can't get away from you hot stuff.”
Myrna was around enough you were shocked she didn't have her own room. She did have her preference of wheelchairs, the one that had the smoothest wheels she deemed that made pushing around the Pitt and chasing doctors easier.
“What are we in for today?” you asked, folding your hands over her age old chart and keeping to the end of the bed.
Her brows rose. “Aren't you gonna come any closer?” she teased, crooking a finger into her as best she could from where they were restrained softly to the bed.
“Myrna you know I'm married.”
“Happily?”
“Sadly.”
“To the fruitcake?”
“Still,” you said with an amused smirk. Sometimes when you wanted to annoy Robby you'd call him fruitcake and watch his face twist up.
Myrna scoffed. “Pathetic.”
“You had another seizure?” you asked, knowing already her usual tricks.
“Yeah.”
“Who brought you in?”
“Some guy.”
“And what was his name this time?”
“Antonio. Italian. Handsome,” she said with a drool. “Looked great in his uniform.” Myrna pulled at her restraints again as you walked around her, checking the vitals another nurse (most likely Dana) had already took. “Are these really necessary?”
“They are when police bring you in.”
“Is this because I grabbed fruitcakes ass?” she asked.
“No, Myrna,” you said, checking her IV. “It's because you grabbed my ass.”
As if she were proud of herself, Myrna grinned and chuckled.
The door behind you pushed open gently, two bodies, one tall and lean and the other slightly rounded blocking the doorway.
“And this is, Myrna. Seizure activity, or so she says,” said Robby as he gestured from his son next to him to the lady in the bed.
Carter's med student days had been spent mostly in Presby, in order to avoid such conflicts of interests like working with his mom and dad in the ED. However, Presby was closed for up to two weeks due to a viral outbreak and quarantines that Robby insisted Carter come do days in the Pitt.
Carter was pressed in his fresh and light coloured scrubs, a polished stethoscope slung over his shoulders and a pep in his step. Looking at him, you wouldn't have thought he was roaming the halls he ran through as a child, talking to Dana as if he didn't use to babble incoherently at her.
“Myrna, say hello,” said Robby, passing you a nod.
Instead, Myrna dragged her tongue over her teeth and growled.
Carter all but jumped back.
“Fruitcake, you've multiplied,” she smirked.
“Don't worry, Carter,” you said. “She's harmless.”
“She's-she's tied to the bed.”
“Exactly. So she's harmless,” you said. “Just don't get too close if you're examining her, she bites.”
At first Carter laughed but when nobody- not even Myrna- laughed with him, he fell silent, looking between his dad and you. Robby only nodded, confirming that fact.
“Who is this tall, lean, fresh blood?” Myrna asked, eyeing him up.
“Myrna, this is Carter. Our kid. He is doing a emergency medicine rotation and is here to learn,” said Robby.
Carter's chest puffed out, his hair that was soft to the touch and bounced around like Robby's used to do, fell in front of his eyes.
Myrna shifted in her bed. “You need to do a physical, huh?”
“He does not,” said Robby. “Rest easy, we'll be back soon.”
Robby held the door open, letting you and Carter out first as if to protect you from her 'abuse', but he didn't close it quick enough, the nicknames sugar tits and fruitcake floating out behind you.
“What-what was that?” asked Carter, frowning at the names he could have sworn he heard.
“Nothing, don't think about it,” said Robby, a firm had clamped on his shoulder and stirring him away.
“Fruitcake?” he laughed, probably thinking of every way he could use it against him.
“I said don't ask.”
“Don't worry about Myrna, just keep your distance,” you advised.
Carter looked between you and Robby, the both of you in doctor and nurse mode. It was the sort of thing he'd caught glimpses of throughout his life but never seen so much of. The both of you shed the scrubs like skin when you got home, pulling off the medical practices and putting on everything you'd learned about being parents. It was a fine line, Robby had decided, between happiness and work and he wasn't going to drag the dead and the sick into the home he'd created.
“You guys put up with her a lot?” he asked.
Robby huffed. “She comes in to avoid the cops.”
“She's here so often we're thinking of inviting her to thanksgiving next year,” you teased.
“But she doesn't actually bite, does she?” asked Carter, laughing at the very idea.
You and Robby shared a look, ignoring him.
“Just don't find out the hard way, son,” advised Robby, leaving him to it and letting him go.
Carter nodded. “Is she the reason you came home with a bite mark on your shoulder last week?”
He regretted asking almost immediately as he watched your cheeks grow pink and watched Robby fight a smirk down at you. He reached for you, turning you around as you walked away laughing.
“Yeah, sure, son.”
Carter was at the nurses station, leaning over the cool counter and watching the rest of the ward work. He watched nurses float around him, Dana be called off on different ventures, traumas being wheeled in and pushed through doors. Nobody was calling his name. He was waiting to be called, to be rushed into the action.
At some point he watched you and his dad be called around, the two of you taking patients like it was a tag team mission. He watched Robby's hand ghost the small of your back as he directed you around, he watched your careful words console him after tough patients.
So, that's what love was.
The squeak of wheels from behind him sounded, dragging over the floor closer and closer.
“Doctor, doctor, I got a bad case of loving you,” said the drag of a voice.
Carter turned, looking down at the wheelchair. “Oh, I'm not a doctor. I'm a med student.”
“Younger, even better,” she smirked, licking her lips.
“You're Myrna, right?” said Carter, looking around him for help before he was cornered by her.
“Call me mama,” said Myrna.
Carter gulped, eyeing the handcuffs that gleamed in polished silver. She was attached to the wheelchair. Could she still bite him? “Is there anything I can help you with, Myrna?”
“You could make my time worth while,” she said with a lur of desire.
Presby had been a different kind of chaos to PTMC. There'd been a blur of patients and an over crowded hall way of equipment, less put back and clean and darker than here. He could see Myrna in daylight, the ragged pull of a dressing gown which seemed to be strictly hers. The dark colour of exhaustion under her eyes. Hadn't he been told she came here to hide from the cops?
“I need the bath room hot-stuff,” she said, as if catching his hesitation.
“Oh. Right. Yes, course, let me just-” Carter looked around desperately, hoping to catch a face he could put a name to. He drew a blank.
“Come on, sweet-cheeks,” she said, a low droll of her voice. “Never seen a real woman before?”
If he said yes would word get back to his mom? If he said no would word get back to his dad?
Finally, a small doctor in a neatly combed-back braid and glasses walked by, focused and clear of mind.
“Hey! Um, hey! Wait, Can I-Can I get some help?”
She looked back to him, eyes alight. “Oh, Doctor Robby! I mean not-not our Doctor Robby, a Doctor Robby, our third, really,” she frowned at herself and shook her head. “I'm Mel, D-Doctor King.”
“Hey, nice to meet you, Doctor King,” he greeted with a bright smile. “Myrna needs the bathroom and I-”
Mel caught on quick and took over the charge of Myrna who was less than enthusiastic later.
“Strip down and get on my bed, sailor!” she yelled.
Carter's cheeks blazed.
It was one of those days where things seemed quiet for you and Robby. Where patients came in with small complaints that could be handed off to med students and residents, carefully supervised of course.
So carefully supervised from Robby's place in the lounge, you perched on his lap with his arms tightly around you. You were only blocking his view a little bit, he'd know if anyone was dying at least, it was basically a sixth sense.
But with you in his lap, tracing patterns in his hands, Robby didn't seem to care if outside was on fire.
“You know, if this one's another boy,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder, hands pressing into the small, nearly un-noticeable swell of your stomach. “We might have to call him Jack.”
You smirked. It was a running joke that with three sons and one daughter not one of them was named after Jack, even if he was there for the births of them. Once when Robby was not.
“He might start thinking we hate him.”
“But if we have a girl I am not calling her Jaqueline,” you said.
Robby huffed a laugh into your shoulder. “No, definitely not.”
“I think if it's a girl, we should call her Stacey,” you suggested.
“Stacey?” asked Robby, trying to go through everyone you knew to understand why Stacey was an important name. He came up blank.
“So I can be Stacey's mom.”
Robby knew there was a joke there that he didn't understand.
You backed up, peering at him. “You don't know Stacey's mom?”
The door squeaked open, flashes of the Pitt startling the two of you as Dana walked in, pushing her glasses up into her hair.
“There you two are! Hiding out here while the rest of us do your dirty work!” she said, smiling at the sight.
“Is somebody dying, Dana?” asked Robby, smug and still secure with you in lap.
She scoffed. “Yeah, your kid.”
You shuffled in Robby's lap, sitting up straighter. “Carter?” anxiety clawed at your nerves, turned over the little breakfast you'd eaten.
“Myrna's got her claws in him, poor kid,” she said with a show of no sympathy. The truth was all of them had to put up with Myrna at some point. It was always best to get it out the way in the early days. Let Myrna have her fun then she usually left you alone.
Except you. And Robby. By a common trend, Carter might not be so lucky either.
Robby's hands squeezed your thighs, a subtle signal that you were both going to have to get up. “All part of the hazing programme.”
The three of you crept to the door, huddled close and looking out the slim window at the door.
In his scrubs still yet to be strained, Carter was crowded at the counter, Myrna and her wheelchair up to his feet, practically rolling over his toes in the trainers you'd brought him. He was laughing awkwardly and trying to climb up the counter to get away from her. You'd never seen someone so afraid of an elderly woman in a wheelchair.
Robby's chest rumbled in a chuckle as he lingered over you. “He's your son.”
You swatted his chest.
“C'mon,” tutted Dana. “He's doing good. Says he wants to go inter surgery.”
“We taught him where the money is.”
Across the way the three of you noticed you weren't the only one watching the show. Hiding by an exam room, a curtain pulled close you could see Santos and Whitaker watching. Trinity was doing a bad job at hiding her grin while Denis was a decent guy, he looked bad.
“Shouldn't we be helping him out?” you pondered.
“Are you kidding?” smirked Dana. “This is the most fun I've had in years.”
“You think he gets treated better at Presby?” you asked.
Robby shook his head. “Presby doesn't have a Myrna.”
Carter had just stitched up a gruesome cut in a leg, finally staining his scrubs in a speck of blood. It was small but made him feel like a real doctor.
He was just walking past an exam room when he heard calling. He supposed it was for him, though it wasn't his name.
“Hey! Pussycat!”
He paused past the exam room, hand grasped at the doorframe to steady him. Sweet-cheeks. Hot-stuff. Pussycat. Carter dreaded to think what she could come up with next.
Carter stepped back. “It's-It's Carter, or Robinavitch.”
“Yeah, yeah, plenty of them,” she said, holding up her arm as far as she could while restrained. “I got an itch.”
“Okay?”
Her restraints jangled again as she proved a point. “I can't reach.”
He was stuck in spot, wondering if Myrna had been paid by his parents to make his day harder. With a sigh he took a step in at her bed side, making an exaggerated move in tugging on powderless, latex gloves.
She watched and rolled her eyes.
Carter was tempted to pull on a mask to prove a point. “Where's the itch?”
Myrna tugged a little at her gown, exposing the curve of her thigh. “Right here,” she said, as seductive as she could.
Carter stared down at the skin, veins a deep blue and a wide purple bruise forming over where she needed the itch. He drew a stool closer and settled, drawing a delicate circle around the mark. “When did this happen?”
“When the cops caught me, itch!”
Gently, Carter started to drag his fingers over the mark she emphasised. He eyed the bruise still, trying to find the best way about it. Had anyone else examined her? “I could get you a band for that,” he said. “To help with the inflammation. Some elevation and that-”
“Higher!” she said.
Carter looked to see if she had listened to him. It seemed she had not. He moved half an inch further, knowing where his hand would end up if he went any more, or even if she shifted.
“You know know one's been this high up to me since my third husband,” she said.
“What happened to the other two?”
“I killed them!”
When Carter looked up at her she seemed only smug and proud of herself. It was impossible to tell what was a lie.
Myrna rose her brows in challenge.
Carter itched a second more before slowly taking away his hand, yet she latched on like a snake sinking in its claws when his hand brushed hers. “Is your... itch satisfied?”
“Not yet sugar,” she smirked. “You want to see my Vagina?”
Carter felt his cheeks rise up in heat.
“Myrna,” you appeared in the doorway, leaning there with your pleasing smile, the sort reserved for patients. At home, the kids got a different one. And Robby got another one. “Are you behaving?”
“Me? Please. I'm a good girl,” she said with a wink, releasing Carter.
He fell to your side quickly, like you could protect him.
“Really? Cause we've had a complaint from a nurse saying you grabbed his ass,” you said.
Her face fell. “That grey-haired pussycat? There was nothing there for me to grab, please.”
“So you're keeping your hands to yourself?” you asked.
“Urm, mom- I-I mean Nurse Robinavitch,” said Carter with a clear of his throat. “Miss- Mrs, er-”
“It's just Myrna, Carter.”
“Oh, okay.”
“She won't tell us her last name,” you added, looking to her pointedly.
“It changes!”
“Myrna has a pretty bad coloured bruise on her thigh,” he said. “I suggested a band to help with the swelling and elevation.”
You nodded. “She knows all of this. We put a band on her when she came in with the bruising, she just choses not to.”
“You want to see my vagina?” asked Myrna.
Carter looked back to you. “And she keeps asking that.”
“I'd be worried if she didn't.”
“Can I see yours?” she asked.
Carter suddenly really didn't want to be in that room.
You patted his shoulder, gently leading him out the room. “When you become a doctor, Myrna and I have a problem you'll be the first I go to, I promise.”
You closed the door behind you and chuckled quietly, shaking your head.
“Is she- is she a real patient?” Carter asked. “Or has dad paid her to do all this?”
“Myrna is as real as they get. Just wait till you meet Earl.”
“Who's Earl?”
“Don't ask.”
It was only one hour later when Carter knew what all the warnings about Myrna had been about. Why Jesse had complained about her hand and his butt. He knew it in the cigarette breath, the scratch of a wheelchair against the floor and the pinch in his ass.
“Ah- what the-”
Myrna was still looking down at him when Carter turned, biting his tongue. “You have a much better ass than your daddy.”
“Okay, Myrna, that's-”
Before he could erupt about how wrong it was to flirt, to pet name, to touch, two doctors slid up on either side of her.
“Hey, pussycat,” said Santos, taking the bars of the wheelchair and pushing her away. Next to her Javadi accompanied and Carter followed slowly to see what happened to her. “We've got your discharge papers.”
“Fuck off,” she grumbled.
“Ah, my own term of endearment.”
“So you're like-” started Javadi next to Carter. “The prince of this place?”
Carter was surprised it had taken this long for someone to bring up his name. To bring up the fact he was a Robinavitch. “I mean, I don't know about prince.”
“Please,” said Santos with a scoff as she pushed the door open to Myrna's room with her back. “You're set to inherit this place when Robby retires. Or if.”
He didn't think Robby would ever retire. There were days his dad relaxed, always easier when with you. If the both of you had days off, which seemed to be the only days you and Robby took off, Carter could usually find the two of you at each other's side. It was all romantic but as the child to witness the stolen kisses in the kitchen, the moments you both thought you were being sneaky in making excuses as to why Casey shouldn't come in their room for ten minutes, it was also embarrassing.
In PTMC it didn't seem to change that much.
Robby still touched you all the time. Still looked for you when he left every exam room, still called for you at every trauma. He almost envied anyone else ever trying to get in Robby's good books because your name took up the whole thing.
Robby wasn't leaving this place without you.
“I'm thinking about surgery, actually,” he said.
Victoria's eyes widened. “Surgery. Woah. That's- that's really cool,” she said with a dusting of pink on her cheeks.
Santos's eyes rolled. “Surgery, yeah, great.”
“She's got a lover up in surgery,” said Myrna as she moved herself back into bed.
Carter's brows rose. “O-oh?”
“You know,” said Javadi as he looked back to her. She was staring up at him, a sparkle in her eyes. “It's-it's like they copy and pasted Doctor Robby.”
“Yeah, I- I get that a lot.”
“Goin’ into medicine like them?” Said Myrna with a cheap Ha! Punctuated at the end. “What’s the point? I won’t be around forever to watch out for you Robinavitch’s.”
“Don’t say that, Myrna,” Trinity said with an air of boredom, like she’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “You’re gonna live forever.”
Myrna chuckled dryly.
“I-I’m thinking of psychiatry,” said Victoria, still to Carter. “Emergency psychiatry.”
Carter nodded. “Cool.”
“You think so?” She blushed.
“Crash, you can’t flirt with Carter,” said Santos. “That’s like flirting with Robby.”
Victoria stuttered, ponytail swooshing as she looked between her and Carter. “I’m-I’m not flirting. What? No, I-I would never and that’s totally- totally-”
“Honey,” said Myrna. “This is painful.”
With some dull excuse, Javadi scrambled away quickly, Carter still trying to figure out just what had happened as he watched her go.
Santos looked at where she’d left. “Damn. Crash crashed.”
You were hunched over at the nurses station, chasing up labs for Robby as he always knew how to ask sweetly. In the dim reflection of the glow of the screen you saw Myrna creeping closer, regular clothes adorned.
“Myrna,” you warned.
“Can't a girl say hello?”
“So long as your hands are to yourself.”
“Then how are we supposed to shake hands?” she hummed, the gruff sort.
You shook your head and fought of a smile as you slowly turned to her. “I'm sure you'll be shaking something. Are you going home?”
Myrna smirked. “The city doesn't sleep for anyone.”
It wasn't a secret to you what Myrna did that had her being brought in so often enough you typically always had a gown and room ready, even her favourite snacks in the lounge. She'd maybe never said it in so many words but you knew the streets were her domain, the hospital her sanctuary. You'd offered to help, dropped of pamphlets on her first few visits before you realised she only used it to dump her gum.
“So, I'll be seeing you soon?”
“You know I can't stay away from you, Sugar Tits.”
“Don't I know it,” you said, walking her out to the doors. The real VIP treatment of passing through the ambulance bay.
“Your kid is good,” she grumbled.
You smiled to yourself. “You think so?”
“He's on a tight leash. You must have warned him about me?”
“That we did.”
She rolled her eyes, her mascara smudging at the edges. “He'll be an annoyingly good doctor. Just like his daddy.”
“Who knows, maybe the next time you're here he'll be around to patch you up.”
The automatic doors slid open as you walked her outside, letting her give her flirtatious smiles and winks to the paramedics on call and a special blow of the kiss to Ahmed.
“Yeah,” said Myrna in the dying light of the day. “I left him a little something to remember me by, just in case he forgets me.”
You chuckled. “I don't think he'll be forgetting you.”
When she was far away enough, Myrna popped a cigarette between her cracking lips and lit it up. Though she may have squeezed the asses of any hospital worker close enough, she respected the rules enough to stand out of the no smoking zone and light one up.
“Well, see you around sugar tits!”
You watched her slowly walk off, the click-clack of her heels fading as she went.
The doors behind you sounded and Robby's arm slowly slid over your shoulders.
“Was that Myrna?” he asked.
“Yeah, she's off to fight crime and defend our streets,” you teased.
“You worry about her?”
You worried about everything. Really, it was your job as a nurse. Your regulars who came in, Earl with his sandwich requests, Louis and his stories, Myrna with her nicknames. You worried that every time you saw them it would be your last.
Robby drew you in closer to his chest, caving you in in his warmth. “She'll be back, then you'll be sorry.”
Behind you the ambulance bay doors slid open and closed again and a distressed voice called out.
“Why is this in my bag?”
The both of you turned to Carter who was pink in the cheeks and hands trembled as he held up a thin and stringy lingerie set. It was pink with bows, saggy in all the wrong places and teared slightly at the seems.
You chuckled as Robby stared, almost as alarmed as Carter. “That's Myrna's gift. From her to you.”
You had a felling she'd be back for that.
taglist (if you want to be added or took off just say the word!): @oldbaddies, @mafercita101,@tiddieshakeshownu, @mismwaa, @annabethpotter221b, @elizamoe133, @delicatedragonflower, @mysatnin, @cherbicdollie, @macbaetwo, @cod-guys-slvt, @rach2602
Pairing: Dr Frank Langdon x resident!girlfriend!reader (ft. Dr. Michael Robinavitch)
Warnings: age gap reader could be younger cause of her attitude. physical violence, fistfight, cursing, mild chokehold, throat hold, bruises, cuts, and minor blood, unprofessional behavior, ER drama.
Summary: your shift takes a violent turn when an insecure patient’s girlfriend accuses you of flirting with her boy.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
You had taken the case of a teenage boy brought in with a severe laceration on his leg and a possible concussion after a bike accident.
Standard procedure.
But his girlfriend, a girl no older than eighteen with eyes sharp with insecurity, made it anything but standard.
Every time you leaned in to check the boy's pupils, she stepped into your personal space. Every time you gently asked him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten, she crossed her arms and glared.
"Is there a reason you're standing so close to him?" she finally snapped.
You paused. "I’m examining your boyfriend's injuries, miss."
"Yeah, well, you're smiling at him. You've been flirting with him since we got into this room. Do your fucking job and keep your hands to yourself."
"I am doing my job," you said, keeping your voice tightly controlled, though a pulse was beginning to throb in your temple. "I need you to step back so I can work."
"Don't tell me what to do!"
The commotion drew attention. Before you could escalate or de-escalate, Robby walked into the room. He took in the girl’s furious face, your rigid posture, and the boy looking desperately uncomfortable on the gurney.
"Everything alright in here?" Robby asked smoothly.
"Your doctor here is trying to hit on my boyfriend!" the girl shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at you.
"I'm not-"
"Doctor, why don't you step out and take five? I'll finish up here." Robby interrupted you, giving you a subtle nod.
You swallowed hard, your jaw clenched so tight it ached. "Fine."
You stripped off your gloves, tossed them into the bin, and walked out. You needed air. Real, cold, outside air.
You pushed through the double doors leading to the ambulance bay. The fresh air hit your face, but it did little to quell the heat rushing through your veins. "Fucking bitch making me angry," You murmured and leaned against the wall, closing your eyes, taking deep breaths.
You heard the doors swing open, followed by aggressive footsteps.
"Hey! Flirt!"
You opened your eyes just in time to see the girlfriend marching toward you, her face twisted in rage.
"I wasn't done talking to you-"
"Get away from me," you warned. "Go back inside."
"Make me, you bitch-"
Before you could react, her hand flew out.
Her fist connected hard with the side of your jaw.
Your head jerked sideways. Pain exploded across your face. Something inside you; weeks of brutal shifts, sleep deprivation, and the sheer audacity of being struck, just broke.
"You fucking crazy bitch!" you screamed.
You lunged. You didn't think at all. Adrenaline slammed through your system. You grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her down, and landed a solid punch straight to her cheekbone.
She shrieked, clawing at your face, catching her nails along your collar. You dragged her to the pavement, knees slamming into the concrete. Hands pulled, fists flew, and insults were hurled back and forth in a blur of movement and violence.
You were completely blind with rage, operating purely on survival and unadulterated fury.
"Hey! HEY! Break it up!"
Strong hands suddenly seized you under your arms, hauling you backward with force.
"Get off me! I'll fucking kill her!" you spat, thrashing blindly, kicking out at the girl who was being dragged back by Jesse.
"Jesus christ, calm down girl," Jesse yelled, holding the girl who was still screaming profanities, her nose bleeding.
The hands holding you pulled you back against a chest. The scent of familiar cologne broke through the haze of your rage.
"I've got her. Jesse, get that girl inside," a deep voice barked near your ear.
Dr. Frank Langdon.
"Frank, let me go!" you shouted, still squirming, your fists clenched so tight your knuckles were white. "Let me fucking go!"
Frank didn't say a word. He kept a firm grip on you, practically half dragging, half guiding your body away from the ambulance bay.
He shoved open the door to an empty exam room, hauled you inside, and kicked the door shut with his feet.
"Frank-"
In a flash, Frank spun you around, backing you up until your spine hit the wall.
He stepped right into your space, his large hand coming up to wrap firmly around the front of your neck, not choking you, but holding you in place.
"Calm the fuck down, baby," Frank growled, his face inches from yours, his grip firm. "Look at me."
You blinked, your chest heaving, tears of pure adrenaline pricking the corners of your eyes.
"Hey, calm down," he said calmly, commanding you.
"Frank... she fucking hit me-"
"I know, baby," he rasped, his grip on your neck softening into a possessive squeeze, his thumb tracing the rising bruise on your jaw. "I know she did. I saw it. But you're a doctor, and you're completely out of your mind right now."
He leaned down, his breath fanning across your lips.
He didn't pull his hand away until he felt the violent rhythm of your breathing finally settle into something manageable. But the residual rage remained, vibrating right under your skin.
You were practically humming with bad energy, your body rigid, jaw locked, eyes blazing with fury.
Frank let out a heavy breath, his thumb sweeping over your lower lip one last time before he stepped back to lock the exam room door properly.
"Sit," he ordered softly, gesturing toward the stainless-steel exam table.
You didn't move for a second, glaring at the floor as if you could set it on fire. Then, you shoved yourself up onto the table.
Your legs swung rhythmically, knees knocking together, knuckles still bright red and raw.
Frank pulled up a rolling stool, wheeling it right near your knees so you were forced to look at him.
"Give me your hands first, baby," he murmured, reaching out.
You thrust your hands forward, refusing to make eye contact. Your knuckles were red from where you’d cracked her across the cheekbone.
Every time he pressed down, your whole body twitched, muscle tension practically radiating off you in waves.
"Seriously, baby, calm down," Frank muttered, eyes flicking up to assess your face. "Still want to go back out there and rip her hair out?"
"She split my lip and bruised my jaw," you spat out. "If Jesse hadn't pulled her off, I would've broken her fucking nose for being a jealous bitch."
"I know you would have, baby," he said, zero judgment in his voice. "I'm almost impressed, if I wasn't so busy trying to keep Robby from firing you on the spot."
"Let him," you snapped, leaning your head back against the wall, teeth grinding. "I don't care."
"Liar," Frank grunted softly. He discarded the gauze and picked up a clean swab, dabbing gently at the cut on your cheekbone.
You winced, a hiss escaping your teeth and tried to flinch away.
Frank’s large hand immediately clamped around your thigh, holding you dead in place. "Ah-ah. Hold still, sweet face."
"It stings," you muttered, glaring at him.
"That's what happens when you roll around on the concrete, baby," he replied, though his touch was gentle as he cleaned the tiny gravel scrapes near your hairline. "You're lucky she didn't catch you in the eye."
"I hit her harder," you grumbled.
Frank chuckled, curing your lip and shaking his head as he unwrapped an ice pack. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. You nearly knocked her teeth out, baby."
He leaned in to wrap around the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head up. He pressed the ice pack against your swollen jaw. You winced again, your body stiffening, but Frank didn't let go. He held the ice there, forcing you to meet his eyes.
"Look at me," he murmured, his thumb stroking the tender skin behind your ear. "This bad energy? Drop it. It's done. I'm handling the paperwork, Robby's probably discharging the kid, and that girl is getting escorted off by security before she can open her mouth again."
"Frank-"
"I mean it, baby," he cut in. "Drop it, and let your boyfriend fix you up. Okay?"
You stared at him, the angry heat in your chest slowly colliding with the warmth radiating from his hands. A sigh finally rattled out of your chest, your shoulders dropping.
"Okay," you whispered, leaning your forehead weakly against him.
Frank rested his chin on top of your head, his hand staying firm on your neck, holding you close while the ice slowly numbed the throbbing pain. "Good girl," he grunted softly, kissing your hair.
Then, the door opened and Robby stepped inside. He took one look at the scene: you perched on the table with an ice pack glued to your face, Frank hovering over you like a protective guard dog.
A smirk spread across his face.
"How's my little fighter doing?" Robby asked, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
You shot him a glare through your good eye, though the effect was entirely ruined by the ice pack pressed to your jaw. "I'm fine, Robby."
"Yeah, you look great," Robby chuckled, shaking his head. "Jesse’s out there boasting to the staff that you’ve got a mean left hook. Said you almost took the girl's head clean off."
Frank didn't move an inch away from you. He kept his hand firmly planted on your neck.
"She started it, Robby," Frank grunted defensively. "The girl laid a hand on her first. Out in the bay."
"I know she did, Frank, I saw the security footage on my way over," Robby said, his softening. He looked directly at you, giving you a fatherly look. "For the record? You're off that case. And off the floor for the next two hours until that jaw stops throbbing and you stop looking like you want to punch whoever breathes wrong beside you."
"Robby, I can work-" you started, trying to sit up straighter.
"You're taking them, baby," Frank cut in smoothly, his grip tightening just enough on your neck to keep you rooted to the table. "Don't argue."
Robby stifled a grin, pushing off the doorframe. "Listen to your boyfriend. And your attending. I told security to escort the girl off, and her boyfriend is getting transferred to another hospital. No charges are being filed, but if I see you fighting someone on the ambulance bay again today, I'm assigning you to digital rectal exams for a month."
"Understood," you muttered.
"Good." Robby checked his watch, flashing a quick look between the two of you. "Ice it for twenty more minutes. And, Langdon? Try to keep your bratty girlfriend from starting any more underground fight clubs in my ER."
"HEY!" you screamed in offense.
"She's your resident, you know?"
"My resident. Your brat. Control her."
"No promises," Frank grunted back, smirking.
As the door clicked shut behind Robby, Frank let out a snort, bringing his gaze back down to yours. "You heard him, baby. Mouth shut. No more punches."
Hi hi! I was wondering if you could write or had any ideas in which Robby’s wife is the total opposite when it comes to being squeamish. If she were to walk into that ED immediately passed out on the floor
If not no worries!! Love your work🩷
💞Tags/Warnings💞: slight age gap relationship, fluff, Husband!Robby, Squeamish!Wife
💞Plot💞: Dr. Robby finds his calm in the ED. His wife.. Finds horror.
💞Characters💞: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: The Doctor and His Baker
💞A/N💞: This is such a cute idea!!! I really hope you like it..
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“Would you wanna grab a coffee, or…”
He trails off, a mix of sheepishness and hope clear in his dark eyes as he watches her before it clicks for him. In his hand is a coffee cup. Given to him by her.
“Maybe not coffee..” He chuckles a bit. Fuck, he was doing this all wrong. She smiles though, and he takes that as a sign to not swiftly turn around and head straight out the bakery door.
“I’d really like to grab ice cream?” She offers, voice gentle as he takes the little ‘hint’. He nods and makes a dorky show of stepping away from the counter and then walking back over to it, making Y/N cover her mouth to not laugh right out.
“Hi..” Robby says again. Y/N smiles, playing along.
“Hi.” She greets.
“Would you want to.. Grab an ice cream with me? Maybe tonight?” He offers and Y/N jokingly gasps.
“How did you know?! I’ve been craving some ice cream..” She teases, making the older man smile warmly. He hasn’t felt this childish since… Maybe Med School?
“I’d like that.” She says and then grabs his coffee cup. He’d been a regular at her shop for a good two months, and now, while on his sabbatical with nothing left to do, he’s decided to take his chances asking her out.
So many things had originally gotten in his way. For one, the age. He wasn’t blind. He knew what this looked like, but he also knew Y/N was a grown woman. It wasn’t ‘robbing the cradle’ if she was a capable and independent business owner. Was it? He shakes it off at this moment though.
Another thing that had held him back was his view on relationships. Keep things casual and light. Fun. No pressure meant no expectations and that meant Robby would never get hurt from this relationship not living up to how he imagined it in his head. Robby was a lover man at heart, but love wasn’t like it was in those classic books.
He wasn’t a Mr. Darcy, he was a Jay Gatsby at best.
And a girl like Y/N deserved better..
And yet, he doesn’t decline the coffee cup when it’s passed back to him. Now containing her number and a kiss mark on it.
He doesn’t stop himself from texting her later that day while he’s reorganizing his apartment, going stir crazy on his three month vacation.
He allows himself the pleasures of ice cream, two scoops in a waffle cone, and walks in step with her around Pittsburgh. Taking in the nightlife as she softly talks about work and new recipe ideas she wants to test out.
He gives himself the opportunity of going back to Y/N’s shop with her and helping her bake, something he hasn’t done since living with his grandmother. He lets himself discuss his childhood and watches on in awe as Y/N recreates a core recipe from his past.
Sufganiyot.
A round, deep-fried, jelly doughnut that he’d traditionally only get to eat during Hanukkah..
The intimacy of Y/N holding up the dessert, bringing it closer to his mouth in a silent offering, so he can have first bite and judge how close she’d gotten it to the original recipe melts him to his core.
They have their first of many kisses that night..
*
*
*
Now enjoy these headcanons
• Robby found out Y/N was squamish to blood after she accidentally cut her finger while making dinner at his place one evening. She freaked out at the sight and rushed her finger under water to try and stop it. Robby had to quickly get involved and take care of the injury for her.. •
• They have one rule in their home. No detailed medical stories. If Robby is ever talking about his day, he brushes past any detail that’s ‘too gory’. •
• Y/N learned the hard way to not ask him about specific medical procedures. He has no filter and he will tell her every step without thinking. •
• The closest Y/N gets to the medical world is watching medical dramas on tv, which drives Robby nuts. He’ll make slightly bemused comments such as: “That’s not how CPR works…” or “Well, that patient isn’t gonna make it..”. She’s constantly swatting at him playfully, wanting him to just turn his brain off and watch with her. Secretly though? She loves that he can be such a medical nerd.. •
• Speaking of Robby being unable to turn off his ‘doctor brain’.. He tends to most times use medical jargon around Y/N. It’s rare when she gets hurt around him, but not uncommon, and when she does, he uses ‘doctor speak’ to explain the injury to her and she just gives him a blank stare until he simplifies it. •
• She met him in the ED for lunch one time. Never again would she do that. Now, if they’re going out for lunch, he just meets her at the restaurant. •
• She has quickly rushed in baked goods though for the rest of the Pitt medical staff. One time Mel came to greet her and absentmindedly told her about a save she did that morning, going into detail about the whole injury. Robby had to quickly get involved. “Yeah, let’s just… Not tell my wife about that..” •
• Robby can be super meticulous about cleanliness in the household. After all, this man deals with running a whole ED. He’s practically addicted to hand sanitizer.. Y/N on the other hand is a bit more relaxed. Sometimes Robby comes home to the entire kitchen covered in flour because she’s trying to perfect a new recipe. •
• Robby comes home absolutely craving Y/N’s comfort food. When he’s having a really hard shift, he’ll text her asking if she can make some kind of Ashkenazi Pastry like Babka or Rugelach, and Y/N can always tell his level of stress based on if he wants her to leave him the bowl and/or spoons as well. He likes to lick them clean when he’s had a really bad day… •
• Robby was so used to being alone that he had to learn how to live with Y/N. Meaning scrubs would have to come off when he gets home. No more lounging around with them still on. Also, he’d actually have to eat breakfast before he leaves for the day. He couldn’t just run out anymore with just coffee in his system. He’d have to say goodbye to staying late at work on a whim too. 7pm was his time to go.. •
Synopsis: Dr. Robinavitch has been your chief attending since you started your medical career, and you've harbored feelings for him since the day you met. When he comes in with an injury on his day off, you treat him so well, he finally decides to reward you with a gold star.
Warnings: Reader is described as female. Cute and fluffy, a bit of pining and idiots in love. Hurt/comfort. Age gap (Robby is in his 50's, reader in her 30's). Robby flirts but is also awkward, silly banter. Robby gets stitches, incorrect medical descriptions, kissing, this is just a cute crack fic but it's the first thing i've written all year so i'm happy about that
Wordcount: 3k (ish)
divider by @cafekitsune
"Dr. Robinavitch," you say with authority, amusement lacing your tone. You grab the rolling chair to pull it close to the side of the bed, gloves snapping into place, "What brings you to the ER today?"
Robby sends you an incredulous look.
"Hardy-har," he deadpans, looking less than impressed, "Funny."
You snort, glancing at the cut leaking blood on the side of his head, your lips lifting into a smirk, "Let me guess, if I'd given you another second you would've have commented on how my lack of perception would've proven my lack of competency?"
Robby's stern gaze meets you, and in response, he almost lifts a knowing brow, except the usual action now makes him wince instead. He hisses, and you chuckle softly, gathering your tools, "Wouldn't do that if I were you, Doctor. It seems your expressive nature is working against you today."
Robby grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. You're not used to seeing him like this; a white t-shirt that fits him annoyingly well, jeans covering his legs, the chain that he always wears around his neck just an enticingly bit more visible than it usually is when he's in scrubs.
Your expression turns serious for a moment, eyes searching his face when you ask, "Seriously, though. Wanna tell me what happened?"
His eyes flit to yours, a familiar expression covering his face. You know this one - it's the one he always puts on when he contemplates his next move. Usually, you'd look away, perhaps occupy yourself while you wait for him to decide, but that's when he's your boss.
Today, he's your patient.
So instead, you hold his gaze, patiently waiting for an answer.
He clears his throat, and his eyes dart away before he murmurs, "Was putting up a shelf. Something fell on me."
You hum, turning away to prepare everything before you grab the lidocaine to numb the area. When you bring the needle forward, Robby follows the motion, not even flinching as you inject it, "Shelf wasn't hung properly? Or what dropped on you?"
You're not even asking out of curiosity but rather out of habit. Your time in the ER has taught you that small talk with patients help both you and them, and at this point it's second nature to keep conversation flowing. Your brain doesn't fully register that the person you're talking to is your chief attending, it merely registers that you're treating a patient.
But you remember who exactly you're treating when Robby responds, "No, uh.. Dropped the hammer."
Your brows raise, your movements pausing for just a second when your brows knit together to look at him, "You dropped a hammer into your own face?"
Robby immediately groans, rolling his eyes, but you instantly tut at him, lightly tapping at his arm, "Sit still, Robinavitch. Unless you wanna end up looking like Frankenstein."
You being carefully stiching his wounds, your focus returning to the task at hand, albeit still curious for his answer.
"I'm not very handy, okay?" He grunts, allowing you to do your job, the deep brown of his eyes watching your face while you work, "I've been wanting to put up this shelf for a while, figured my day off was the perfect time. Guess I was wrong."
You snort in amusement, nodding while you continue gently stitching, "Yeah, I guess so. Although, I'd argue the thing you were most wrong about was trying to put up a shelf with a hammer."
Robby's eyes search your face, his brows would surely knit together if he could move that area right now, "What? Why?"
Your eyes flit to his, an amused smile painting your lips, "Well, unless you were planning to only put pictures or cd's on that shelf, that shit should be drilled into your wall. With screws. Nailing up a shelf is basically a guarantee that thing will fall sooner rather than later."
"Great," Robby deadpans, looking away from you, "I got fucking stitches for nothing."
"Ah, come on now," you interject, smirking at him, "It's not for nothing. At least they'll look cool. Girls love scars, don't you know that?"
Robby snorts, finding your eyes at your words, "Sure they do."
"Hey," you retort, holding the needle steady but keeping your friendly tone, "Some of us like that stuff. A bit of ruggedness never hurt anybody."
"You like scars?"
"Depends," you shrug.
"On what?"
"On how attractive I find someone."
"And if you find them attractive?" Robby asks curiously.
"Then I guess scars would make me want to take care of them."
Robby lets out a low chuckle, his eyes crinkling slightly in amusement, "Oh, I see. It all makes sense now."
Your lips quirk up at his tone, eyes flitting to his for a moment, "Oh yeah? And what do you see, then?"
"You became a Doctor because you like taking care of attractive men," Robby muses, a teasing glint in his eyes.
You snort out a laugh, your hands pausing their movement as you look at him incredulously, "Dr. Robinavitch, that is an extremely offensive thing to say."
Robby laughs, matching the amused expression on your face as you get back to work, "Apologies, Doctor. That was out of line."
"Nah, you're good," you respond with a smile, finishing up his stitches, "I'm used to your sense of humor, by now. I've spent a lot of time around it."
Robby hums as your chair pulls back once you've set down your tools, your gloves snapping off before you toss them in the bin. You inspect your stitches, Robby's brown eyes watching your face when you murmur, "In fact, I think I've spent almost my entire medical career around it, at this point. You were my attending when I started out, too."
Robby smiles fondly, folding his hands over his lap, "Ah, yes, I remember. Although I do seem to recall you leaving for a while."
"I came back though," you reply quietly, eyes flicking to his with a smile, "I guess I preferred the humor here."
Robby hums, his eyes darting away from yours when you hold eye contact for a few seconds longer than what seems appropriate. A moment passes, and then Robby clears his throat before he looks at you, "So, uh, how was your date last night?"
Your brows immediately furrow. Your eyes meet his again, head tilting in question, "Date? What date?"
Robby blinks, clearing his throat again before he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, "Uh, I overhead you yesterday, at the nurses station. You mentioned you were going on a date.."
You keep the same confused expression on your face for a moment longer before realization hits, a chuckle leaving your lips. "Oh, that. No, I didn't say date. I said dinner."
You smile at him, and he reciprocates, although it seems a little guarded to you when he asks, "That's not the same thing?"
You chuckle again, vehemently shaking your head, "No, they're not. At least not when the person you're having dinner with is your gay best friend. It kinda removes all romantic aspects, if you ask me."
Robby's eyes widen, but he lets out a hoarse chuckle, watching your face while you start to clean up, "Yeah, uh, guess it does. So your dinner, then. How was it?"
"Good," you respond with a smile, "It was nice getting to catch up. It's been a while since I'd last seen him."
Your eyes hold his to convey your point, and it feels charged again, just like it had a moment ago. Those brown eyes feel never ending, and it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, which ultimately forces you to look away to avoid embarrassing yourself somehow.
You clear your throat, pulling back as your face returns to friendly professionalism, "Alright, so, all good here. Although I do think it'd be wise to have a CT done, given the hammer of it all."
Robby nods along, clearly agreeing with your assessment, "Figured as much."
"Any dizziness?" You ask, your head tilting while you watch him, "Nausea, headache?"
"Not yet," Robby responds, "But that-"
"Could still happen within the next 12 hours, so we'll take a look anyway. I know, boss."
"Just checking," Robby replies with a smirk, "Gotta keep you on your toes."
You chuckle as you get up, pulling up his chart on your tablet, "Okay, let me go get Dana so we can set you up quick. There's no need for you to be here unecessarily long, it is your day off after all."
"Appreciate that," Robby murmurs, watching you as you turn around with a smile, his eyes lingering on you when you leave his room.
"Robby needs a CT," you announce at the nurses station when Dana approaches you, "He hit his head. Doesn't have any symptoms, but I just want to make sure we're all good before sending him home."
"Another home project?" Dana asks, leaning on the table.
You look up at her, your head tilting, "Another? Has this sort of thing happened before?"
"Mhm," Dana responds, a knowing smile on her lips, "Usually means he's going through something, when he starts up with all that DIY crap."
"Ah," you nod, glancing down at your tablet, "I see. He did mention he's not very handy."
"I think he could be if he wanted to," Dana shrugs, "But usually he does it as an outlet, and it doesn't tend to end well."
You pause, brows furrowing slightly when you look up at her, "Is everything alright with him?"
Dana nods, a small smile on her lips as she reaches out to give your arm a friendly squeeze, "'Course it is. Just having some girl troubles. I'll get him set up for CT."
Dana walks off, and her words resonate with you for a moment. You didn't know Robby was dating, let alone had trouble in that department. He's always been pretty private, never one to let on too much about himself. But it seems crazy to you that he of all people would ever have trouble in that particular department.
You glance back toward his room, thinking of your conversation about the scars. With this new information, you wonder whether that was appropriate, now.
There's also an anxious knot that has formed in your stomach just at the thought of him dating, which you try to ignore. Robby has been your attending since you started at PTMC, and he has been an excellent teacher.
But he is also charismatic, smart, competent, caring and surprisingly funny. Not to mention handsome, in that delicious way where he doesn't even know it himself. He exudes confidence.
It wasn't surprising when you developed a crush on him shortly after you started working at the Pitt. Honestly, you knew it would happen eventually, since the very first day you met him.
What had been surprising, however, was that it hadn't faded, even in the several years you've known him since. They had stuck, the feelings you harbored for him, and grown into something even more fond than merely a school girl crush.
You cared about him, deeply, in more ways than one, but you also knew that Robby was older, wiser, and had plenty of options. The idea that he would ever be interested in you had honestly never sprung to mind. He was your attending, the chief of the ED, and he was too professional to ever cross that line, you knew that.
But a girl could dream.
An hour later, you're moving down the hallway towards the nurses station when Dana shouts your name.
She catches you just before you're about to greet a new patient in one of the rooms, her hand touching your elbow, "Robby's CT's back. Have a look."
You find the scans, nodding with a hum, "Alright, looks good. I'll send him home."
Dana nods before she walks off, and you change your direction, instead heading for Robby's room rather than your other patients'.
When you step inside, the first person you notice is Dr. Abbott, standing beside Robby who's sitting on the bed, the two of them murmuring quietly about something you can't quite hear. It goes quiet once you enter the room.
"Doc," Jack greets, a broad smile on his face, "Just the girl we've been waiting for."
You chuckle, walking up next to Jack as you look between him and Robby, "Is that so? I hope I can live up to your expectations, then."
"Always," Jack responds, glancing over at Robby who sends you a warm smile. Then Jack turns back to you, "How's he looking?"
"All good!" You announce, pulling up the scans to let Jack inspect them, "Nothing concerning, so you're good to go home, Robby. But if you get nauseaus or dizzy-"
"I'll come back," Robby finishes, smiling at you before he takes the tablet from Dr. Abbott, putting on his reading glasses to look over his own scans, "I appreciate you taking such good care of me."
You grin, your eyes meeting his when he looks at you over the rim of his glasses, "Does that mean you'll leave me a five star review?"
Robby chuckles, nodding when he hands you back your tablet, "Absolutely. Gold star."
You beam, preening at the praise as you hold your tablet to your chest, "I appreciate that, boss. Happy to help."
You find him at the nurses station about an hour after discharging him.
"Dr. Robby," you muse, walking up to where he's in deep conversation with Dana, "What are you still doing here?"
Robby's head turns to face you at the sound of your voice, his brown eyes meeting yours while he leans on the counter, "Just checking in before I head off."
"Mhm," you respond, checking your watch before you look back up at him, "Must be a hell of a check in. Did you forget this is your day off?"
Dana snorts at your words, sending you a knowing smile before she looks pointededly at Robby and says, "Told you I like this one."
You chuckle at Dana's words, your amusement only reinforced by the look on Robby's face when he reponds, "Ganging up on me, now? Since when is it a bad thing to care about your job?"
"If it entails you to not take time off, since always," you counter, swiftly moving to his side to lock your arm with his, "Let's go, Robinavitch."
Dana chuckles when you march off with Robby at your side, but you only make it a few steps before he murmurs, "Call me Robby. Or Michael."
You glance up at him, brows raising in surprise, "I call you Robby most of the time."
"I know," he responds, not looking at you, "But you never call me Michael."
You lead him towards the staff exit, but Robby stops you a few feet away from the exit. It's just the two of you in the locker room, the noise of the ED fading into the background.
"Wait," he says, making you turn to face him, "What if.. What if I'm not ready to go yet?"
You smile up at him in amusement, your head tilting, "Why wouldn't you be? If you need something done, let me know, and I'll finish up for you. You don't need to worry on your day off."
"I'm not-.." Robby says, cutting himself off before he shakes his head, his deep brown eyes finding yours, "I'm not worried. I'm just.. Wondering."
Your head tilts further in question, looking up to meet his eyes, "Wondering what?"
Before you can even think, Robby leans in, his lips landing on yours.
The kiss is sweet, his lips molding to yours gently, carefully even. You kiss him back, leaning into him for just a moment, but then he ends the kiss much too soon for your liking.
Robby leans back slightly, letting out a deep breath as his eyes search yours, a shy smile on his lips, "I'm sorry.. I just really wanted to find out what that'd feel like."
"And?" You ask breathlessly, your eyes searching his, "What's the verdict?"
His lips raise in a relieved smile, "Better than I could've ever fucking imagined."
"You really hit your head, huh? Maybe you do have a concussion."
Robby barks out a laugh, shaking his head bashfully at your comment. His eyes crinkle the way they always do when he breaks out a genuine smile, and he lets out a rough breath, "Maybe I do. Or maybe I just finally gathered the courage to do something I've been wanting to do for years."
You reach up, your hands finding his biceps as his find your waist, eyes searching his, "What made you decide today was the day?"
"That thing you said," he murmurs, smiling as you look up at him, "About coming back here for the humor, that you preferred it here.. I don't know, I just.. Felt something. A moment. I've been wondering for a while whether you felt something, the way I do, and in that moment I got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you do."
"I do," you smile in response, reaching up to cup his cheek. His face tilts into your caress, his beard scratching your palm, "Although, I may need to do a bit more research. You know, just to be sure."
"Oh-ho-ho, you're trouble, aren't you?" Robby chuckles, leaning closer when you do, your head tilting up until your lips can press to his. He hums softly at the motion, his lips slotting over yours perfectly as you move in sync.
You let out a small whine at the feeling rushing through you, your fingers gripping onto him more firmly. His hold on you gets tighter, more eager, his body molding into yours until you're pushed up against the row of lockers. The kiss turns heated, more possessive in nature, and your toes curl when he lets out a deep groan that vibrates through you.
Your hand trails up to curl in his hair, head tilting to allow him better access to your mouth, and just as you're about to lose your mind completely, you hear a door opening further down the hall.
Both of you break the kiss simultaneously, your cheeks flushed, breath panting as you step back and away from Robby. His expression matches yours, eyes wild, fingers itching to grab you again, but he doesn't get the chance to before Dana walks into view.
"Doc," she says, addressing you as she turns the corner, "You're needed in Trauma 2."
"On it," you breathe out, making eye contact with Dana. She stops when she spots Robby across from you, her eyes jumping between the two of you, but she doesn't get a chance to address whatever it is she just walked in on.
You look back at Robby, murmuring out a "see you tomorrow, Michael," before you rush past Dana and back into the ED.
Dana's eyes lock onto Robby, a hand on her hip while her eyes narrow, "I guess you're no longer having girl trouble, huh?"
Robby lets out a scoff, shaking his head, his hand running through his hair before he looks back at Dana, "Figured it was time I did something about it. Rather than build shitty furniture and causing myself more injuries."
"Proud of you," Dana says, offering him a knowing smile, "Took you long enough."
CW; established relationship, adoption, mentioned fear of pregnancy and birth, sooo much fluff its actually sickening.
a/n; I accidentally deleted this oneshot while editing it earlier which means I had to rewrite it from the beginning. After a mental break down of course!
The glaring red numbers on the other side of the hub opposite of your leaning figure against the wall read 20:39:05 and you think the Gods are definitely testing your patience by making time move slower today.
The hustle of the night shift nurses and doctors settling into their familiar patterns clashes with your rushing day shift coworkers as most of them scurry towards the lockers room, the rest of them huff and puff as their legs stay glued to the ground while they try to catch up on their charting.
Normally, you would be everywhere. Flicking Santos on her ear to wake her up from a much needed slumber so she could finish her charting, urging Dana to just go so Lena could finally take over, patting Langdon and Whitaker on their backs while dipping your head in acknowledgment in Mel’s way as you tell the three of them they did a good job today.
And normally, your husband of three years would be right behind you, his old man belly brushing your lower back with each step you take because God forbid a minute passes by without some part of him touching you as he breathes down your neck.
But that had not been the case for the last month.
Ever since the day of what was supposed to be his last shift before he hit the road for his sabbatical, after the grueling delivery of a pregnant woman, you had marched behind him with determination written all over your face, ready to tell him that he could kiss that fucking motorcycle goodbye.
Yet, whatever words had sat on the tip of your tongue went flying out of the window as he walked through the pediatric room and beelined to the wailing baby Jane Doe and you’d found yourself rooted to the ground next to the open door, not daring to cross the threshold and disturb the scene in front of you.
You had watched curiously as baby Jane Doe’s eyelids closed to rest with the help of Michael’s large hand as he rubbed soothing circles over her tiny back while whispered sweet nothings into her ears lulled her to sleep, the sight of it seared into your brain and followed you home to your shared bedroom.
The topic of children had not been a conversation in your relationship for a very long time, not since you found the courage to admit your growing fear of the horrors pregnancy and birth could enforce on your body to Michael, courtesy of a lifetime experience as an ER doctor.
And Michael, sweet loving Michael, who would not hesitate to walk barefoot through fire if you asked him to, had simply pressed his lips to your forehead to kiss your worries of not being enough for him away and made sure to remind of his love every night for those past years.
Looking back at it now, as he trudged behind you silently and followed your haunched figure to set beside you on the bed, it must have been the years of tuning into each other’s emotions and thoughts because not much had been said in the quiet of that night for you to see through the thick walls surrounding his mind.
One look at his calloused fingers toying with those stupid motorcycle keys and you knew which train of thoughts you had to follow. “Having second thoughts about your trip?”
His hands dropped them so they could wrap around yours, voice shaky as he spoke. “What do you think about Baby Jane Doe?”
“Dana and that awful nickname,” you huffed as you reached a hand to scratch at his beard the way he liked. “I think she would hate those horrendous orange walls you painted in the spare bedroom.” You murmured close to his lips.
The fervor in his kiss after and in everything else that followed that night still makes warmth spread through you each time you think about it.
The heat crawling over your neck and face snaps you out of your daze, a relieved sigh blowing out of your mouth when you notice the seconds has finally ticked away as the clock reads 20:40:01.
You trick down the hallway to the pediatric room where Michael, after an agreement with Jack, had made it a priority to dedicate the last twenty minutes of your shared shift to baby Jane Doe.
Your Baby Jane Doe as of this morning.
After a month of filling papers and spending ridiculous amount of money on clothing and toys that you both knew she will out grow quickly, something that none of you seemed to be able to care about as you headed from one store to another and clicked on countless websites.
The nerve wrecking waiting had come to an end this morning, when you were woken up by the shrill noise from your husband’s phone to an incoming call from the hospital’s social worker, his red rimmed eyes as his lips tugged upwards in a blinding smile was enough for hot tears to start rolling down your cheeks.
This time, when you reach the glass door, you leep over the threshold without any doubt, happy tears welling up in your eyes as you make your way to your husband and your baby girl.
Michael smiles down at you when you step besides him, shoulders sagging in relief when yours brush against his as you lean your weight into his chest and your lips start to wobble as you speak to the bright eyed baby staring at the both of you. “Ready to come home with us, sweet girl?”
The coo you get in response has Michael bow down, hot tears running down your neck as he presses a kiss full of love to your neck.
You aren’t doing any better than him, your own tears flowing down your face freely as you reach for him, your hands cupping his cheeks as his rough hands slide down to your waist and under your scrubs to rub mindlessly at your skin.
You’re not sure who moved first but then his chapped lips are moving against yours and the fervor in it all causes a whine to slip out of him as he pulls you closer to press his body against yours.
Your blissful bubble is abruptly popped by the loud cheering coming from outside the hall, both of your necks snapping to the rapidly gathering crowd and you distantly wonder who’s handling things out at the hub.
The reddening tips of Robby’s ears push that thought to the back of your mind and the giggle that spills out of your mouth turns into a yelp when he hooks his lips over yours in one last kiss to egg your friends on.
You break from each other’s arms when the oohs and ahs reach your ears and both of your hearts melt at the content look on your sweet girl’s face.
You usher your husband with a reassuring palm on his chest, your voice soft as you speak. “Come on, you hold her.”
He hesitates for a second before raising her head to his lips, a “Hello, my sweet dove.” Murmured so softly against her forehead, you could feel tears spring back to your eyes.
He engulfs her tiny form against his chest and you hook your arm instinctively through his as you both head out to your friends still waiting for you.
Jack and Dana step forward to say their congratulations to you both and you take in the scene in front of you. There’s a huge ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ banner behind them with balloons in different shades of pink scattered around it to fill the place, Santos and Whitaker are both carrying a Tiramisu cake while Javadi stands to the side taking a video of it all.
Even Gloria has come down from her tower.
The strings of congratulations die down when Mel speaks up from her place next to Langdon. “You guys didn’t keep her name as baby Jane Doe right?”
Everyone chuckles in unison as they stare at your family in intrigue.
You share a look with Michael, your knuckle smoothing down her soft cheeks as you speak up. “Eden. Her name is Eden.”
You don’t tell them that it’s the name of Michael’s late grandmother or that in Hebrew it means paradise, and opt to keep it for yourselves.
They all cheer one more time and the feeling of Michael’s lips over yours is like a seal to the secret.
Javadi yells your names and orders you both to kiss Eden’s cheeks so she could take a picture.
You can’t wait until you get home and start working on her photo albums.
I wrote this after I saw @tpwklizzie ‘s post! I hope you and @jinglesmells1337 like it!
