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.
notes/warnings: written to fulfill a request. Noelle is the bad guy in this one, for reasons. She's called a bitch more than once but it's deserved here. Flangst, my favorite.
wc: 3.1k
It had been a long day.
Not a bad day necessarily, just one where everything seemed to take twice as long as it should. You glanced at the clock as you finished discharging a young boy who’d come in with a broken arm. Seven was creeping ever closer. Tommy lifted his lime green cast in a wave goodbye as he headed out the door with his parents. You waved back with a small smile then sighed and headed to the hub to see where you could help. Mateo had arrived early for his shift and you’d already handed all your patients off to him. You wondered if you could talk Robby into takeout and shitty TV. You didn’t work tomorrow, but he did so he was just as likely to want to go home and crash.
The familiar form of Noelle Hastings striding across the department snagged your attention as she made a beeline for the family of Benito Rodriguez. Benny had arrived with a simple infection that quickly went septic. He was underinsured and Noelle had been down pressing for him to be sent home before the sepsis set in. Once that had happened, she realized observation had been the wisest course of action. He was still waiting for a bed upstairs in the ICU.
You had never gotten along with the woman and sincerely wished Robby had chosen anyone else on the planet to fuck. But apparently even Noelle Hastings was a better choice than you. You shoved the thought aside and crossed the floor to Rodriguez family. You moved faster when you heard what she was saying.
“With your son going septic, the possibility for long term disability increases. In that case, he would qualify for Medicaid and they will pick up the bulk of the costs.”
“Miss Hastings,” you said, voice low and sharp.
She held up a hand inches from your face and you barely resisted the urge to shove it away. “I just wanted to let you know because I am aware there were concerns about the bill. I thought it would relieve some of your worry.”
Yeah, you gave into that urge and pushed her hand down out of your face. Noelle snapped her attention to you with a scowl. “Did you just put your hand on me?”
You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “This is not the place for this conversation and it is certainly not the time. I realize compassion is in short supply where you’re concerned but give it a try. Who knows, you might find you like it.”
You turned to the family you’d been working with all day and gave them a soft smile. “I am so sorry about this. Why don’t we get you back to Benny. They said they should have a spot for him upstairs within the hour.” You turned your back on the case manager and directed the couple back to their son’s room. Once you made certain they didn’t need anything else, you headed back out.
You needed to find Robby. This was not acceptable in any way, shape, or form. And he needed to find another situationship. You really couldn’t stomach this one any longer. Your eyes scanned the halls as you looked for him. You slowed as you neared an open room and heard Noelle say your name. You caught of glimpse of them behind the poorly closed curtain.
“Not this again.” Robby sounded exasperated.
“She’s jealous of me, Michael. Of our relationship.”
Robby ran a hand down his face. “She’s not like that.”
“Do you really think she’s happy being on the sidelines all the time?” Noelle gave him a tight smile. When Robby just stared at her without saying anything, she continued. “She picked a fight with me in front of a patient’s family. I simply trying to talk to them about what they could expect when she snapped and called me unprofessional. She put her hands on me, Michael.”
Robby put his hands on her upper arms and rubbed slightly. “Calm down, okay? I’ll talk to her about it.”
A lump formed in your throat and you hurried away before they noticed you. I’ll talk to her. He was just going to take Noelle at her word without even discussing it with you? You thought he knew you better than that. Maybe things were more serious with Noelle than you’d let yourself believe. You needed to get out of here. To have a minute to get your head together before you had to sit in a car with your best friend and pretend you didn’t hate his current fuckbuddy.
Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed your bag from your locker. You hurried over to Dana at the hub. She looked up as you approached, her smile immediately fading. Her eyes ran over you searching for a physical reason for your obvious distress. “Hey, you okay?”
You shook your head once and swallowed hard. “I’m not feeling the greatest. Would it be alright if I went ahead and left? I need the air and I’ve already handed off to Mateo.”
She studied you for another moment. “You sure you don’t need someone to do a workup on you? Make sure you’re not coming down with anything?”
You gave her the best smile you could muster. “I’ll be okay. I’m off tomorrow. I’ll rest. Promise.”
“Alright, hun. Go ahead.” Her gaze stayed locked on you until you disappeared through the bay doors.
You found Robby’s SUV in the parking lot and leaned against the side, waiting for him to come out. Closing your eyes, you breathed in the cool evening air to settle your nerves. It worked right up until you heard Noelle shout your name.
Your eyes flew open and you watched her storm across the parking lot in your direction. “You know that it’s your fault no one can get close to Robby, don’t you? You’re why no one ever sticks around. You are always in the fucking way.” You said nothing, your chest tight as she stopped in front of you and leaned into your space. “If you actually cared about him, you’d back the fuck off because he is never going to love you the way you want him to.”
Tears welled in your eyes and you hated yourself for it. Hated for letting her know that she’d gotten to you, that her words had hit where you were the most tender.
Jack hurried across the parking lot to where Noelle was accosting you. He’d been nearly in the building for his shift when he heard her yell your name. And he’d every word since. What a bitch. “Is there a problem here?” he snapped as soon as he was close enough to not cause an even bigger scene.
“Of course not,” Noelle said with a sneer. “Everything is fucking perfect.” Jack’s gaze trailed her as she stomped off, making sure she didn’t double back.
When he returned his attention to you, his heart sunk. Tears ran down your face as your shoulders shook. It was that silent sobbing that all health care workers seemed to perfect over their time in the field. “Hey, hey.” He stepped forward to pull you into his arms, kissing the side of your head. You’d been his friend for a very long time. “She’s gone. You’re okay.”
You shook your head, even as you clung to him. “No. I don’t think I am. She wasn’t wrong, Jack. I’m always around him. We’re always together. Am I the reason he doesn’t have anyone? Am I the reason he’s alone?” A wretched, broken sound left you.
Jack put his hands on your upper arms and leaned back to look at you. “Robby is not alone. He has us. Watching shitty TV with you and drinking beers over takeout is exactly where he wants to be. Trust me.”
You shook your head and let out another sob even as you tried to wipe away the tears. It was a futile gesture.
“Come inside with me, huh? We’ll get you cleaned up and Robby will take you home.”
You took a step back away from him. “No. I don’t…no.”
His eyes moved from you to the car behind you and back. “Did you ride with Robby today?” He wanted to make sure you weren’t going to try to drive in this condition.
You swallowed and nodded. “But I think I’m just going to walk home. Can you let him know?” You were attempting to sound stronger than you were but the tremble in your bottom lip gave you away.
“I don’t want you walking alone. At least let me order you a car. Or hell, I’ll drive you. Robby can cover until I get back.”
You wrapped your arms around yourself as you shook your head. “I’ll be fine, Jack. I need the air. Thanks for…” you gestured aimlessly. “For all that, I guess.”
You refused to look at him again as you headed toward the sidewalk that would lead you home. He called after you, but you kept walking without looking back. Shit.
He hurried into the hospital, beelining for Robby who frowned and checked his watch when he saw Jack. “You’re running late. I was getting worried.”
“We need to talk,” Jack said lowly as he walked past, heading to the lounge. He heard Robby fall into step with him but didn’t glance at him. Once they were in the room with the door shut behind them, Jack dropped his bag on the table and raked a hand through his hair as he paced the floor. He needed to calm down before he tried to relay everything to Robby.
Finally, Robby told him to get on with it because you were waiting for him.
Jack huffed a breath. “Actually, she’s not. She walked home.”
Robby straightened. “And you let her?”
“She’s a whole ass adult, Robinavitch. Wasn’t any stopping her unless I kidnapped her and that sort of thing is frowned upon.”
Robby started for the door. “Let’s get handover done so I can make sure she made it home okay.”
“Not yet. You need to know what I walked up on in the parking lot.”
Robby licked his lips and gave a slow nod. “Okay.”
“Noelle Hastings had her cornered by your car. She said some pretty nasty things. Bad enough your girl was sobbing by the end of it,” Jack said, because you were Robby’s girl whether either of you wanted to admit it or not.
Pure white-hot fury flooded Robby’s body. How dare Noelle even look at you, let alone upset you to the point you cried. He was fucking furious at the audacity. “What did Hastings say to her, Jack?”
Jack ran his tongue over his teeth then sighed. “That she was the reason no one could get close to you. That it was her fault no one stayed around.” He hesitated, then added, “That you would never love her the way she wanted you to.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Fucking Noelle. Robby should have known better than to ever sleep with her. The fact that you disliked her should have been enough of a deterrent. Robby ran both hands over his beard and hissed through his teeth. “That fucking bitch.”
“What set her off anyway?” Jack asked.
Robby sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Noelle caught me just before the end of shift claiming our favorite nurse had picked a fight, put her hands on her. You and I both know that’s bullshit but I told her I’d talk to her anyway just to get Noelle to drop it. That wasn’t good enough. Said I had to pick between them. So, I did.”
Jack ran his gaze over Robby then shook his head. “You know this isn’t the first time one of your ‘friends’ has made that ultimatum and you always pick her.”
“Of course I do,” Robby said with no hesitation.
Jack raised his brows. “Never occurred to you to do otherwise?”
Where was he going with this? Robby shook his head once, emphatically. “No, why would it.”
Jack’s eyes closed as he appeared to be praying for patience. “I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you that you’re in love with her?”
Robby studied him for a long moment before sighing, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Of course, I am, man. Why wouldn’t I be?” He’d been in love you almost from the first moment he met you.
A beat passed then another, Jack just staring at him.
“What does it matter, Jack? I can’t risk losing her. She’s the only thing that keeps me going.” Robby sounded so defeated he hoped it would be enough to get Jack to back off.
Instead, it only seemed to piss him off. “Did it ever occur to you that she loves you too?”
Robby just blinked at him, stunned into silence. It was impossible that you could possibly care for him the way he wanted you to, the way he imagined at night when he couldn’t sleep. Where he dreamed you were just in the other room and would come crawling into bed with him any moment chastising him for not sleeping yet when he had to work the next day. Sometimes it even worked, and there would be one brief second when he woke that he’d forget it wasn’t real.
“You two are a pain in my ass. Listen to me,” Jack put his hands on Robby’s shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze. “I have been third wheeling the two of you for years. Even when you had a ‘date’, it was the two of you and everyone else was just lucky to be in your orbit. That girl was sobbing at the thought that she was the reason you were alone. She wasn’t crying for herself. She was crying for you.”
Tears flooded Robby’s eyes at the thought. Jack squeezed his shoulders once before letting go. “Let’s get this handoff finished so you can go after your girl.”
Robby made the ten minute drive to your apartment in seven. He pulled into the spot he always used and hurried upstairs to your apartment. He knocked on the door, bracing himself with two hand on the doorframe as he waited for you to answer. Nothing.
He knocked again, calling your name this time.
Still nothing.
Come on, baby. Let me see you. I need to see you.
He thought about using his key to let himself in but if you didn’t want to see him after the shit Noelle spewed at you, that was your right. Instead, he pulled out his phone and called you.
Voicemail.
He tried again. Still no answer.
Finally, he sent a text. Just let me know that you made it home okay. Please.
A moment later you responded. I’m here. I’m just exhausted. I’ll talk to you later
He hesitated, wanting nothing more than see you in person. To reassure you that he chose you. That he will always choose you.
Instead, he sent: Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.
You woke to the soft light of morning filtering through your curtains. You blinked, head fuzzy as you tried to focus on what had actually awoken you. Sounds from the kitchen. The smell of coffee. It had to be Robby. He was the only one with a key. You did the minimum to ready yourself for the day, before slipping on a pair of sweats with the t-shirt you slept in. You stepped into your slippers then shuffled out to the kitchen.
Robby stood at the stove, scrambling eggs. Fresh fruit and two mugs of coffee sat on the counter. Your gaze moved from the food back to the man responsible for it. You frowned. “Don’t you have to work today?”
“Called off,” he replied simply, not looking up from the skillet.
The response stunned you momentarily. “You never call off,” you finally said.
He made a sound of agreement as he plated the eggs. “Grab the coffee and sit.”
You took both mugs to the table and took your usual seat. He put the plates on the table and sat across from you. You watched him as you ate, wondering what was going on. Maybe he agreed with Noelle and was trying to let you down gently. To be kind. But it wasn’t. It only made everything so much worse. “Is this…are you saying goodbye?” you finally managed to get out without crying.
His head snapped up, a panicked expression twisting his features. “No. Absolutely not. It’s kind of the opposite actually.”
Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Noelle asked me to choose. You or her. That’s why she was pissed and took it out on you.”
“You chose me?”
He let out a quiet chuckle at that. “Baby, I always choose you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d called you baby, but it was the first time he’d done it while completely sober. When you just continued to look at him, he continued.
“She wasn’t the first to demand I make a choice and it’s always you. Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it. The thought terrifies me in fact.” He leaned forward and took your hand in his, running his thumb across your knuckles.
“I’ve been in love with you for years.” His voice was barely audible. “Jack suggested maybe you were in love with me too. Said something about always being the third wheel.”
Your heart raced at the thought that the man you’d been head over heels with for years loved you just as much. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Didn’t you hear me, honey? You’re it for me. If I lost you…” He shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom the thought. “So, if you don’t feel the—”
You head tipped back as you let out a joyful laugh. “Michael, I’ve been in love with you since six months after we met.”
A slow smile crossed his face showcasing those happy creases you loved so much. “Yeah?”
You nodded and he pulled you toward him. Leaving your chair, you resituated yourself on his lap. He wrapped two long arms around you and held you close. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. “This is…you are perfection.”
Your face heated. “I’m not perfect. No one is. But I am deliriously happy.” You placed a hand on the side of his face. “Will you be mine, Michael Robinavitch?”
He laughed then. “Baby, I’ve been yours since the moment we met.”
And when his lips found yours for the first time, you were suddenly, finally home.
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
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.. •
dr. robby x f!forensic psychologist!reader
masterlist
you can read this fic on ao3 here
content: 18+ mdni, discussions of homicide (reader is evaluating a minor who is currently in the pitt he is being transferred to psych after being charged with the murder of another classmate), discussions of toxic masculinity, use of homophobic f slur by minor oc (once), discussions of addiction (alcohol), on the page panic attacks, minor violence (not on page, just aftermath), sexually explicit content, age gap, swearing, alcohol, smoking, vomiting, some angst with a happy ending, biker!robby my beloved
words: 15.5K
synopsis: reader meets robby while evaluating a client in preparation for his upcoming murder trial. soon enough, robby finds himself wanting to evaluate you instead.
a/n: when two avoidant motherfuckers link up to maximize their joint slay!! i took some inspo from the netflix show adolescence so if ur reading and ur like “hey this reminds me of—" yes 🙂↕️ exactly 🙂↕️ also i made a playlist for Them and posted about it which i will link here if anyone is interested. as a disclaimer i DO have a psychology background, but not in this specialty so please take everything with a grain of salt, i am sure it is largely inaccurate. hope you like, i had a lot of fun with this one. as always please come yap with me about it later. <3 syd
The smell of antiseptic and the copper tang of blood was nauseating as you stood by the nurses station, hands clasped on the tabletop. Your hair was tucked neatly behind your ears. Piercings sat undecorated on your earlobes, shirt buttoned nearly to your chin. Your hospital guest pass stuck just at your breastbone.
It was a Tuesday in Pittsburgh and it was raining. Wet orange and brown leaves stuck to most surfaces, slimy with rot. The air was heavy with the smell of decay that came with late October. You thought, then, of the dead girl and whether she liked the fall or preferred the bright heat of summer.
Unhelpful. Your brain chastised, and you shook off thoughts of her. You weren't here for her, you were here for the boy.
"Can I help you?" A woman with short blond hair, secured neatly in a clip at the nape of her neck looked at you with vague annoyance. She had an iPad in her hands and glasses slid low on the bridge of her nose.
You cleared your throat, "Yes, I'm looking for a Liam Anderson? He was supposed to be admitted to psych for an eval, but I'm told he's still down here waiting for a bed."
The woman eyed you skeptically and looked down at her iPad, "You a relative?"
"Uh, no, I'm with the state. I'm here on behalf of the public defender's office."
She looked back up at you, "I don't think it's really necessary for the kid to be seeing a lawyer right now, do you?"
"I'm not a lawyer, I'm a psychologist." You slid your ID across the counter and watched as she picked it up, "His lawyers asked me to come."
She slid your ID back to you, "Again, feels unnecessary at this stage. Come back when he's been admitted to psych."
She began to walk away, but you followed after pocketing your ID, "It's really, really crucial that I get as much time with him as possible while they're preparing for trial. And before the psychologists upstairs really dig their teeth into him."
"Kid, I gotta tell ya, I really don't have time to argue with you. We don't do visitors for patients down here unless they're family. Now, please, I have work to do—"
"Dana," A tall, bearded man with deep creases by his eyes and darker circles underneath, stopped directly in front of the two of you. He held a small coffee cup in his hand and a stethoscope was draped around his neck, and his gaze traveled to you, "Who's this?"
"The latest pain in my ass," Dana grumbled next to you, but you didn't falter. You were used to being unwanted when trying to gain access to a client, "You deal with her, she's from the state, trying to visit a patient."
The man in front of you frowned at that, but before he could ask clarifying questions, Dana disappeared and you reached a hand out to him to introduce yourself.
His hand was warm and rough as it wrapped around yours, "Nice to meet you," He said, sounding anything but, and he began walking, "Look, I'd love to figure out why you're here and why you're harassing my nurses, but frankly I don't have the time so I'd appreciate it if you could just locate the nearest exit—"
"I'm just trying to do my job the same way the rest of you are. If you could just direct me to my client, I'll do my evaluation very quietly and it'll be like I was never here."
He stopped walking again and turned to face you, sighing, "What is it you're here to do?"
You handed him your ID, "I'm with the public defender's office, I'm here to see Liam Anderson."
He looked from your ID up to your face, then back down again before handing the piece of plastic back to you, "The kid that killed his girlfriend?"
You bit back a sigh, "He is being charged with the murder of a fellow student, yes."
He nodded, "You don't think he did it."
You shook your head, "I'm not a cop, that's not my job."
"Then what is your job?"
"I'm a forensic psychologist. My role is to spend as much time with the client as possible and determine if, in my professional opinion, he seems capable of committing such a crime."
He tilted his head slightly, "You work for the public defender's office, you said?" You nodded, "So what happens if you think he did it?"
This time, you did sigh, "Again, I'm not in the business of evaluating guilt—"
"Right, but what happens if you feel he is capable?"
You shrugged, "The defense just won't call on me to testify. They'll probably find another psychologist who disagrees with me. It's just an opinion, it's not really evidence. But juries find it compelling, nonetheless."
He scratched the back of his head, "You really shouldn't be here, it's family only down here—"
"You won't even know I'm here, I swear."
He seemed to weigh his options before sighing heavily, "I assume giving you what you want will be the easiest way for me to get back to work?"
You smiled, "Undoubtedly."
He narrowed his eyes at you, watching you closely in a way that was beginning to give you hives and made you feel like you had something in your teeth, "What if I told you he's been really polite and just like any other twelve year old that rolls through here?"
You cocked your head to the side, "Has he interacted with any women while he's been here?"
He hesitated and pulled back, as if surprised by the question, "Uh, no, actually. I don't think so."
You shrugged, "Then I'd say it's mostly irrelevant, but I'll keep it in mind."
He started walking again and gestured for you to follow, "I really don't think he did it."
You were growing annoyed at his fixation on the duality of the situation, "Don't know how many times I have to say it—"
"I know, but you have to have an opinion, right?" He stopped outside a room labeled "Behavioral Health 2". You could see Liam through the window, sitting at a table, doodling on a notebook in front of him.
You watched him carefully, tried to make out his scribblings on the page, but his arm covered most of it from your view, "It would be difficult to do my job well if I was always wondering about the truth," You turned back to him, "It'd be irresponsible for me to have an opinion. Besides, this is the first time I'm meeting him."
You remembered that he said he was really busy before, but now seemed more interested in you, still eyeing you curiously, "Have you ever gave an opinion that you regretted? Later found out the person was guilty?"
You blinked at him, "Are you asking this in a judgmental way or are you genuinely curious?"
"Curious. Must take a toll on you, no?"
You shrugged, "I don't spend day in and day out with a client. I base my opinions on the few hours I get every so often when they're prepared to see me. There will inevitably be clients who are very good at putting on a show. I can usually spot them, but I'm not perfect, I have biases like everyone else."
He raised his eyebrows, "You've really rationalized all this. Detached yourself from it."
You gave him a tight smile, "I don't deal in feelings, I deal in behavior."
Finally tearing his eyes from you, he nodded to the security guard who stepped to the side so he could open the door, "If you need anything, ask for Dr. Robby."
You exhaled in relief and ducked under his arm as he held open the door for you, "Thank you."
When the door fell shut behind you, the din of the emergency room quieted significantly and you felt yourself straighten.
"Hi Liam," You said gently, "Your lawyers asked me to come talk to you today. Would it be alright if I sat down?"
You gestured to the seat next to him and after a moment, he nodded.
"I brought you orange soda," You fished the bottle you had gotten from the vending machine upstairs out of your bag, "Your mom said it's your favorite."
He stared at it for a few beats before reaching for it, "Thanks," He whispered, his voice rough from what you assumed was nonuse. Or, perhaps overuse, if he had done a lot of screaming and crying. But Dr. Robby's evaluation suggested otherwise.
You looked over his drawing as he drank the soda. It was some doodles of what looked like classmates playing baseball. Some sketches of the nurses and doctors, even the security guard outside the door. Nothing out of the ordinary for a twelve year old. They were all quite good.
"Do you know any card games, Liam?" You said, before digging into your bag for your deck.
***
Robby peaked over to BH2 every so often, growing more perplexed every time he did. The two of you were laughing and playing and sharing snacks. For hours. He doubted you were discussing anything of substance.
So when you finally came out of the room, he was right behind you. As you turned to walk away, you walked right into his chest.
"Christ—!" You swore.
His hands steadied you, but he otherwise acted unphased, "So what's the verdict, huh? He's a normal kid after all? Didn't kill the girl?"
You scoffed and walked around him, "Once again, I'm not here to determine guilt."
"You don't think he could do it, though, right? Otherwise, what the hell have you been doing with him all day?"
You opened your notepad and began jotting things down while standing at the hub, a crease between your eyebrows as you did. Robby idly wondered what you'd do if he smoothed it out with his thumb.
The truth was, he found you fascinating. All hard edges until you got alone with the kid and then you suddenly softened. Now he started wondering which was the act?
"I have no idea, Dr. Robby. I am building rapport, surely you've heard of it?" You looked up at him with a snarky smirk on your face, "I'm just trying to get him to trust me right now so he'll remove whatever mask he's wearing."
"That seems… awfully manipulative."
You sighed tiredly. It wasn't the first time you'd been accused of being manipulative and it wouldn't be the last. But it felt awfully hypocritical coming from a doctor, "Really? You're telling me you've never been a little manipulative with a patient to gain their trust?"
Robby scoffed and shook his head, "This is hardly the same thing." He jerked his thumb towards BH2, "That's a scared kid you're taking advantage of."
"I'm trying to help him. If anything he tells me hurts his case, no one else will ever hear it. Except his lawyers." You flipped your notebook closed, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment to get to. I'll see you tomorrow."
He watched you walk off, a bit dazed, and when you were nearly out the door it hit him that you said you'd see him tomorrow.
You'd be back for the boy. He looked back over at BH2, noticed the boy was smiling a little to himself now as he doodled in his notebook.
He really shouldn't have let you sit with him today and now you'd be back again tomorrow to break the rules again. He sighed heavily and headed back into the fray, deciding that that was a problem for future Robby.
***
Like clockwork, there you were again at the hub the next day. Your outfit a variation of the previous day, another button up, another pair of slacks, another pair of loafers. Neat and tidy. Not a hair out of place.
You were the psychologist, but Robby got to thinking that the way you dressed probably said a lot about you. You cared a lot about how people viewed you and clearly you wanted them to view you as controlled, careful. He watched you bite your lip as you were jotting down some notes and thought you were probably a bit of a perfectionist, perhaps a touch anal.
Even so, he'd be remiss if he didn't acknowledge that he found you absurdly pretty. He loved the way you bit the pen cap between your teeth and the furrow of your brow when you were concentrating. He still longed to smooth it out with his thumb.
But all of that was irrelevant, because you couldn't be here again today.
He walked up to you and leaned against the counter, "You can't see him today."
You didn't look up from your notes, "This again?"
He leaned on his forearms, knowingly testing the limits of how close you'd let him get before you moved away. But still, you either didn't register his proximity or it didn't bother you. "What're you writing anyway? You haven't seen him yet today."
"I can't take notes while I'm seeing clients, makes them nervous and it makes them start assuming what I think is important. They'll start tailoring their answers accordingly. So I have to try and remember everything important and write it down afterwards. I just came from another client."
He hummed, "So, guilty or not guilty?" You looked up at him with disdain and he chuckled, "I'm just joking. But seriously, I can't let you see him again. You shouldn't have seen him yesterday, you have to wait until he gets admitted upstairs."
You chewed the inside of your cheek, "How is he today?"
He sighed heavily, "He's antsy. He's been stuck in that room for days. He's been pacing and banging his head against the wall, not enough to injure, but…" He shrugged, "He's a kid stuck in that little room, no privacy. He's probably scared."
You angled your head around Robby so you could get a good look at BH2 and Liam was standing at the window. When he saw you, he smiled shyly and waved and you smiled back, "If you let me see him, it might help." You said, "I brought him snacks. Besides," You turned back to Robby, "He's seen me now, he'll probably throw a real tantrum if I leave without speaking to him."
Robby slowly shook his head, a smirk on his face, "You're a real piece of work."
You smiled back at him and he found himself a bit proud of the fact that he had made you smile.
"So you'll let me see him?"
His eyes searched your face as he pondered. It had gone fine yesterday. And you were right that he'd probably throw a fit now if you left. He sighed, "You can stay for one hour. One. That's it."
Your smile widened until he saw teeth, and fuck, he found it unbearably charming.
"Thank you, Dr. Robby." You said cheerfully and closed your notebook, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and headed to BH2.
"Thought you said you weren't letting her in again?" Dana said at his side, both her and Robby watching as you walked into Liam's room.
"I wasn't," Robby said and scrubbed at his face, "But he saw her and got excited. I figured it would be worse for him if he didn't see her."
Dana looked up at Robby and then over to BH2 again, where you were handing Liam a candy bar and a bag of chips, "This is the kid they're saying murdered a twelve year old girl. You know that, right?"
Robby shook his head, and gestured to you and Liam, "Look at him. You really think he did that?"
Dana shrugged, "They must have some pretty compelling evidence if they arrested a kid."
"Cops fuck up all the time."
"Yeah," Dana said and looked back down at her iPad, "Not with white kids."
She walked off before Robby could reply. His eyes trailed back to BH2. Liam had grown at bit more somber since he last looked, eating a chip slowly and intently watching you as you spoke. He still thought maybe the cops had got it wrong, but what if Dana was right, what if they hadn't? And he had allowed you to lock yourself alone in a room with a killer?
In the end, he shook it off. You were fine yesterday and you'd be fine today. But he did check up on you more frequently than he had the day before. Just in case.
***
While Liam settled in to eating his chips, you looked over his doodles. More of his classmates, more of baseball. You pointed to them, "Are these your friends?"
He nodded while he chewed, but didn't elaborate, "You must miss them." You pushed, but he only shrugged.
"The doctors said you seemed a bit lonely earlier. That you were pacing around and banging your head on the walls."
He paused to look at you for a moment, then he looked back at his bag of chips, "They think I'm crazy," He said softly.
"What makes you think that?"
He shrugged again, "They locked me up in here. Won't let me talk to anybody."
"They let you talk to me."
"That's different."
"How so?"
He was silent for a while, avoided eye contact, then, "Can we play cards again?"
You kept your facial expression neutral, "If we have time later. I'd like to talk about your friends for a bit."
He sighed, as if this was an inconvenience to him, "There's nothing to say."
"Surely, there's something you could say about them. Their names, for starters—"
"I'm not gonna give you their names."
You tilted your head to the side, "Why not?" He stared stubbornly ahead, a scowl on his face, "Liam," You said gently, "I'm not gonna get them in any trouble. I work for your lawyers, I'm not the police."
You waited and waited, but he was still silent. "What did you guys do together?"
"I don't know," He said finally, "Hung out. Played video games. Walked around the neighborhood."
"Are your friends all boys or were there girls who hung around as well?"
He gave you a funny look, "No, just boys."
"Why'd you look at me like that? Like I said something strange?"
"Well, I'm not a fag." He said fiercely.
You paused a moment. "You think hanging out with girls would make you homosexual?"
He huffed, "Not, like—Like as friends. Boys don't hang out with girls as friends unless they're gay. Which I'm not."
You nodded slowly, "So what sort of circumstances would hanging out with a girl not be considered 'gay'?"
His cheeks grew red and he looked down at his hands, "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I wanna play cards."
"Okay," You said, "Once you answer that last question we can play a round of cards."
He threw himself back in his seat and sighed, "I don't know, like, going on a date with a girl."
"So, romantically, then is okay?"
He shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."
"So if the girl was your girlfriend she'd be okay to hang out with your friends?"
He frowned, "If I had a girlfriend, why would she hang out with my friends? She's not gonna fuck them."
It could mean nothing, you told yourself. There were plenty of young boys who had been influenced by podcasters and Youtubers that sold an alt right, toxic view of masculinity. The idea that all women were good for was fucking and as they got older, hosuework. It didn't make him homicidal. It didn't necessarily make him violent at all, just probably misguided.
But it was clear he wasn't going to tolerate this line of questioning for much longer. It was too soon to push him too hard.
"Let's play some cards." You said eventually, and fished the deck out of your bag.
***
You were waiting for the bus at the front of the hospital, still diligently scribbling notes from the session into your notebook.
"Hey," Robby strolled up to you, a helmet in one hand and his backup over his other shoulder, "You left before I could ask you how it went."
You shrugged, "Fine."
"That's it? Fine?"
"I really shouldn't be telling you anything," You said, "Anything he tells me in there is confidential."
He scoffed, "He's my patient."
You closed your notebook and looked up at him, forcing a smile, "It went fine."
He watched you for a moment longer before breaking your gaze and running a hand over his beard, "I can't let you back in there with him if you come back and I don't care if he screams about it. So, do us all a favor and don't come back."
You hummed, "Okay, I'll take that into consideration."
He laughed, "There's nothing to consider. I won't let you back in there with him. It's dangerous and puts the whole hospital at risk. You'll only waste everyone's time if you come back."
You sighed, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Robby."
He huffed a laugh through his nose. Unfortunately, it didn't bother him as much as it should that he'd be seeing you again.
"You'll be waiting forever for the bus, why don't you let me give you a ride home?"
You eyed his helmet skeptically, "An ER doctor that rides a motorcycle?" You looked up at him, "You'd think you'd know better."
He smirked, "You should see the number of us who smoke."
You gave a short laugh, "Appreciate the offer, but I'll wait for the bus. I don't like the noise."
"I have an extra helmet, it'll cover your ears and muffle most of the sound."
You narrowed your eyes at him as you considered. Was he flirting with you or was he really just trying to be nice? You always had a hard time telling the difference.
Finally, you sighed, "Alright, fine."
And so that was how you ended up on the back of Dr. Robby's bike, dopey looking helmet snug on your head. You punched your address into his phone, which he then clipped to his handle bars so he could see the GPS.
"You alright?" He asked after getting on the bike in front of you.
"Yeah."
He turned to look at you, "You look scared."
You swallowed. No point in lying. "I am a little, yeah."
He took your wrists and wrapped your arms snug around his waist, "It'll be fine," he said, "Just hold on."
It had been a long time since you had touched anybody and the warmth of his body against your skin almost alarmed you.
"You ready?" He shouted over the roar of the engine.
"Yeah," You shouted back.
Immediately, you nearly fell backwards as he pulled out onto the street and sped up. You had been trying to keep some semblance of distance between your bodies, but you quickly found you were unable to keep your grip unless you plastered yourself to his back. So that's what you did, arms tight around his middle and chin resting on his shoulder.
The streets passed in a blur and you were struck by the intimacy of this whole thing. It hit you hard when, stopped at a red light, you went to lean back to give him space and instead he had placed his hands over yours where they rested on his stomach, ran his thumb gently over your skin, keeping you pressed to him. It shocked you to find that you wished you could take your helmet off so you could press your ear to his back and listen to the steady thrum of his heart.
You had been annoyed with him just hours ago, but you were so goddamn touch starved a single motorcycle ride had you wondering what you wouldn't do to keep holding him like this.
But you didn't live very far from the hospital and it was all over too soon. Parked outside the home you were renting, he didn't stop you this time when you pulled your hands away from him.
As you got off the bike, he wrapped a hand around your wrist to steady you, which was lucky because once on solid ground, you lost your balance.
"Thank you," You said, pulling the helmet off your head and handing it back to him. From the smirk on his face, you thought your hair likely looked a little insane. You tried to comb it down with your fingers.
"You're welcome," He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head, "Tomorrow, though, we're back to being rivals if you show up in my ER again."
His tone was light and playful and you smiled. Strange. You couldn't remember the last time someone had pulled a smile from you so easily. You had always been hard won and harder to keep.
"Yes, sworn enemies. Noted." You said and started backing away towards your house, "See you tomorrow." You said, and mock saluted him before turning away.
***
Robby was trying desperately to keep his temper in check while Gloria walked behind him, periodically taking bites from his protein bar as he took stock of the ER, his residents, his med students. Gloria and her constant buzzing in his ear was not helping matters.
"Robinavitch," She said exasperated, "Please tell me you did not leave a young woman, unsupervised, in a room with a murderer."
"What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
She huffed behind him, "Sure, but we still treat those charged with violent crimes with caution. Especially in this hospital. If anything happened to her, do you know the lawsuits—"
"He's a kid, Gloria. And besides, Ahmad was right outside the whole time."
"We were instructed by the police not to leave anyone alone with him in there."
Robby sighed and turned around to face her, "You know, Gloria, none of this would be happening if there was a bed upstairs for him in psych. Instead he's been waiting down here for days with staff that are ill equipped to handle his needs—"
"I didn't come down here to talk about boarding, I came down here to tell you that if she comes back here today, you need to have security escort her out. Am I understood?"
Robby waved her off as he saw Dana trying to get his attention, "Yeah," He called out behind him, "Got it."
And he thought he did. He had every intention of telling you you'd have to leave if you showed up. And show up you did, but he didn't find you at the hub this time. He found you already in BH2.
Well played, he thought mildly to himself as he walked over to the room and knocked on the door.
You looked up and when your eyes met his, he thought he saw you fight a smile.
"Hi." You said as you stepped outside the room.
He shook his head, "You gotta go."
You nodded, "I'm almost done, I just need another, like, thirty minutes."
He scoffed, "How long have you been here?"
You shrugged, "I don't know, almost two hours I think."
He scrubbed his face with his hands and then laced them behind his neck, "You have to go, now."
You tilted your head, "Come on, Dr. Robby. You don't mean that."
"I really, really do—"
"Robby—Incoming MVA, ETA six minutes." Dana shouted as she walked by.
Robby started backing away, "—And I don't have time to argue with you, so please, please just get out of here. I don't wanna tell you again."
And then he was gone. You stared after him for a moment or two, debating whether or not you should listen. But you were finally really getting somewhere with Liam and if you left prematurely it would derail all the progress you'd made.
So you walked back inside BH2 and shut the door behind you.
"What was that about?" Liam asked as you sat back down.
"Oh, nothing of consequence," You folded your hands in front of you on the table, "So, where were we? I think we had made our way back to talking about your friends and your girlfriend."
"Don't have a girlfriend."
"Chloe wasn't your girlfriend?"
At the mere mention of her he balked, "No." He said finally.
"Was she your friend, then?"
"I told you, no. I'm not friends with girls."
You pressed your lips together, "Well, I guess I'm just confused because from what I understand she was with you and your friends the night she died."
"Who told you that?" He asked, voice raised.
"Is it not true?"
He pulled at his hair in frustration and looked away from you, "It's true."
"So you're not friends and she's not your girlfriend, but somehow she ended up at the arcade with you and your friends."
"We just ran into her, that's all. Her and her friend Julia. Julia's dad came to pick up Julia and Chloe was gonna walk home. So we offered to walk her."
"That was nice of you."
He shrugged, "Her house is like a block from mine."
"So you walked her all the way home that night?" He nodded, "Did you talk at all? On the walk to her house?"
He frowned, "What?"
"I'm just wondering if there was any conversation."
"I—No. No."
"So you three boys walk Chloe home—"
"It wasn't the three of us."
You frowned, "What do you mean?"
"My friends, their houses were in the opposite direction. It was just me and Chloe."
You hoped the shock wasn't evident on your face. The official interview from both the police and his lawyers said that all three of them walked Chloe home, and the last they saw her, she was alive. You weren't allowed more information than that. You knew there was some sort of physical evidence they had on Liam, but knowing too much impacted your objectivity. So you didn't know the specifics. But Liam admitting that it was just him and Chloe on that walk… That was something he hadn't said before, you were sure of it.
You cleared your throat, "Okay, so just you and Chloe. And you walked in silence the whole time?"
He shrugged, "I don't know. We talked about school and stuff, I think." He scratched his head impatiently, "I don't really remember."
You nodded, "So you get to her house, what happens next? You keep walking and she goes inside?"
"No, I walked her to the door." He cleared his throat and you watched as a flush crept up his neck, "And then, we um, and then we—we kissed."
You raised your eyebrows, "You kissed Chloe when you dropped her off?"
He shrugged and smirked, and you got the impression that he was trying to show off. That maybe he was trying to impress you. And a knife of ice cold dread wedged itself in your stomach, began to spread through your veins.
"She kissed me," He said confidently, "Even put her hand on—on my dick."
You swallowed and looked down at your hands, "I'm sorry, Liam."
He frowned, "Why're you sorry?"
"Well, because Chloe's dead. It must be hard knowing that you shared such an intimate experience with someone who's no longer here."
He paled considerably, "Why the fuck would you say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"That—like—she's—"
"Dead?"
"Shut up!" He shouted suddenly.
"I worry you're not grasping the permanence of the situation—"
"I know what it means to be fucking dead."
"Then why are you so angry with me?"
He shook his head in frustration, "Fucking cunt," he said under his breath.
You opted to ignore his swearing, "What happened after she kissed you?"
He shrugged, looking down at the table now, avoiding your eyes, "I went home."
You inhaled deeply, "Liam, are you being honest with me?"
"Yes."
"Okay," you sighed, "Because I just find it strange that someone who, by your own account, was not your friend, not your girlfriend, not someone you really even talked to very much at all would initiate kissing you the first time you're alone together."
"Oh, you find it strange because you think I'm ugly, is that it?" His voice was raised again, "You find it hard to believe that a girl would want me?"
You shook your head, "I've spoken with your teachers, some of your classmates, I've spoken with Julia. All of them say the same thing, that Chloe didn't like you very much. In fact, in some cases, actively avoided you."
"Well what the fuck do they know, huh?" He stood up so abruptly, he knocked his chair over and began pacing the small room.
"Liam, I need you to sit down—"
"They weren't fucking there that night!"
"—Sit down. Now."
"Nobody was fucking there! Just because you think you're too pretty, too good for me doesn't mean she thinks that! You think you know everything— Well you don't fucking know anything!"
He was very close to you now, leaning over the table and screaming in your face while you remained seated, face impassive.
"Liam," you said quietly, "Please sit down."
He was breathing hard and after a moment pulled his face away from yours and turned his body away from you. You allowed him a few moments to calm himself before he righted his char and sat down again.
Your stomach was roiling with nausea now and you thought you might be sick. He was lying about the kiss, you were sure. But you thought there was likely a bit of truth there, based on his outburst. You wondered if he had walked her to her door and tried to kiss her then gotten angry when she rejected him.
You saw flashes in your mind of the crime scene photos. The friendship bracelets she wore on each arm nearly up to her elbows. The butterfly clips she used to decorate her hair.
If you couldn't get it together, you were going to vomit. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and looked back at Liam.
"This is our last session."
"What—?"
"—I've really enjoyed our time together, getting to know you—"
"No—Is this because—Because I shouted? I didn't mean to—I'm sorry!"
"No, we always had a limited amount of time together, Liam, you knew this when we started—"
"But it's only been three days!" His eyes were wet and frantic when you looked at him, much like a panicked dog.
And despite it, despite what you knew your evaluation would say, what you knew he likely had done, you felt a little sorry for him.
Here was a twelve year old boy whose whole life was ruined, now, because of a split second fit of rage. You remembered how his mother had described him to you. Sweet and precocious most of the time, but quick to anger. Rage that could bring down a whole house. But up until this point, had never harmed anyone.
And you wondered if that rage hadn't been so normalized, hadn't been packaged as just the average prepubescent mood swings of a boy, if someone would have gotten him help sooner. If it would've made a difference, if he would've ended up here anyway, in this room with you.
If Chloe would still be here, bracelets jangling up her arms as she walked to class with Julia.
"I'm sorry," you said softly. You felt your own emotional resolve fraying as you did.
Liam was screaming incomprehensibly at this point. The security guard came inside, added his own shouting to the ruckus. Liam was throwing things; the snacks you gave him, the soda, his notepad, anything he could get his hands on. You thought you heard Robby shouting something as well.
You ducked out of the room, walking fast towards the ambulance bay. You barely registered that Robby was following after you, your name falling from his lips as you stumbled outside.
***
Robby was very irritated as he followed after you. You had very nearly gotten assaulted after he had asked you to leave. You were both exceptionally lucky the situation hadn't escalated further.
As he followed you out to the ambulance bay, he intended to shout at you about how irresponsible you had been and how you better not ever step foot in his ER ever again. However, once he stepped outside, he saw you vomiting in the bushes nearby and he immediately softened.
"You okay?" He asked, soft and gentle behind you as you pulled back, wiping your arm across your mouth as tears streamed down your cheeks. He thought it must have been the most out of control he'd ever seen you.
And you laughed softly at his question, shaking your head and lowering yourself to the ground.
Robby lowered himself to the ground as well, crouching in front of you. You stilled when he took your face in his hands, scanning for injury, "Did he hurt you?"
You shook your head again, gently pushed his hands from your face, "No, he didn't touch me."
"What happened?"
Your hands trembled as you rubbed them over your face, impatiently pushing the tears from your skin. Robby waited as you seemed to gather the words, stopped himself from taking your hands in his to stop the tremors.
"I'm not usually this… effected when I make an evaluation," you sniffled, "but he's just a kid and… And I thought maybe they had gotten it wrong. I wanted them to be wrong about him and I let myself get too wrapped up in it and then when he—" You recalled the smugness in his voice when he lied to you about Chloe and a fresh wave of nausea overtook you. You closed your eyes, took a slow, deep breath, "It's not helpful, but sometimes I imagine if I had met some of my clients before… If it would have made a difference?"
Your tears were beginning to choke you and you swallowed them down, "It sucks being the person called in after the horrific tragedy has already occurred because all I can do is try to create a narrative for what I think went wrong. And what good does that do anyone? That little girl is still dead. He's still gonna be locked up at least until he's eighteen. And what sort of irreparable damage will that do to his psyche?"
Robby cleared his throat, "I see patients all the time," he said slowly, "who die under my care and some of the time, I have to let them go with the knowledge if they had just gotten to me fifteen minutes or a half hour sooner, I would've been able to save them." He shrugged when you looked at him with bloodshot eyes, "It doesn't make the work you're doing irrelevant. We can still learn from your evaluations what to do better next time so things like this don't happen again."
You tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, "Why're you being so nice to me? I snuck in here without your permission and then stayed after you told me to leave."
He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "Guess I have a soft spot for women who break the rules."
You managed a small smile and said, voice hoarse with tears, "Thank you, Dr. Robby."
"Just Robby," he said softly, then, after a moment, "please."
Your face softened, relaxed just marginally and he felt a bit of relief. He hadn't realized how worried he'd been, seeing you fall apart like this, until that moment.
"Thank you, Robby."
He felt his heart constrict in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips and thought he was probably done for. And you were going to leave today, probably never to come back. But that was fine. It was probably for the best.
So he just nodded and rose to standing, reached a hand down to you to help you up as well. Then he watched you walk through the parking lot, briefcase held tight to your chest like a shield as you went to stand at the bus stop, eyes still wet and furrow still between your brow.
***
You haunted Robby's thoughts for the rest of his shift. He kept replaying in his head the way you had said his name, like a prayer of salvation. He needed to get you out of his head.
So when the shift was over, he headed to a bar for a beer or four to drown out thoughts of you. But when he walked inside, he stopped cold over threshold.
You sat at the bar, laptop in front of you as you typed furiously, a pen held between your teeth as you looked down at your open notebook to the side of the laptop every few moments.
Robby couldn't decide as he stood there if this was luck or a disaster waiting to happen. Romantic relationships for him usually fell in the latter category.
He didn't believe in fate, but if ever there were a time to, he supposed this might be it. So eventually, he forced his feet to take him to the seat next to you. You didn't look up or even seem to notice him until he was pulling out the chair.
And when you did, eyes coming up to meet his, your face lit up. "Robby," You said, and you sounded happy to see him.
"I swear I'm not following you." He said as he sat down, "You bring your work to the bar?" He asked, nodding at your laptop.
You nodded, "Sometimes. If it's a hard case and I'm writing up the evaluation alone in my house I can…" you swallowed, "well, I can go to a dark place. So it's better if I'm around people."
"What're you drinking?" He nodded to your glass that was now just melting ice, "I'll buy the next round."
"Oh, I don't drink," you said, and flagged down the bartender, "It's just a Coke."
You turned to the bartender before Robby could say anything, "Vinny, could you get Robby a drink and add him to my tab?"
Vinny nodded and smirked at you, "Your tab, huh?" he said, voice teasing, "Should I add another Coke to your tab as well?"
You returned his grin, "Yes, please, and don't forget the cherries."
The bartender shook his head and then turned to Robby, "What can I get you, pal?"
Robby was now looking between you and the bartender, feeling a pained sort of jealousy that he felt ashamed of feeling. "Uh," He managed finally, "Just a Stella Artois is fine if you have it?"
Vinny nodded, "You got it."
Robby turned back to you, "So you don't drink tonight or you don't drink ever?"
"Ever." You said, eyes traveling over the screen of your laptop.
"You don't find it difficult to be sober in a bar?"
You shook your head, "I've never drank so I don't have the temptation."
Vinny slid a glass of Coke to you with a comical number of Maraschino cherries sitting on top of the ice and then slid Robby's beer to him. Robby nodded his thanks and looked at you in amusement as you popped a cherry onto your tongue.
"You've never drank?" You shook your head, still with a cherry in your mouth. "Not even a sip?"
You swallowed your cherry, "Alcoholics run in my family. Both my parents were alcoholics and it ruined their lives. I didn't really need any other convincing after that, but when I started getting older and my friends all started to experiment, my aunt sat me down. She very… gently explained to me that while many of my friends could drink and would likely never have a problem, my genetics make it so that one drink for me is the equivalent of willingly swallowing a bomb that I have no way of knowing how to defuse," you shrugged, "And maybe the timer won't ever run out, but my family history makes it more likely that it runs out as soon as I take that first sip." You took the straw of your Coke between your lips, "So I don't drink."
You had said the whole thing nonchalantly, but he tilted his head to look directly in your eyes, "I'm sorry about your parents."
You shrugged, "It's okay. My aunts, Vinny's moms, took me in when my parents couldn't take care of me anymore. I would've been way more messed up if it weren't for them."
Robby raised his eyebrows, "Vinny is your… cousin?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I should've mentioned. He owns this bar, it's why I come here to hang out. He gives me all the Cokes I want for free."
He felt a bit ashamed at the relief that pulsed through him at this revelation. "I was raised by extended family as well, my grandmother. You're right I think, in a strange sense, that we were lucky. I don't know what my life would've looked like if she hadn't been around."
You gave him a sad smile, "I'm sorry about your parents," you said, parroting him earlier.
He nodded and took a sip from his beer, "Thank you."
"I hope I didn't make too much of a mess for you earlier. I can be… impulsive sometimes. I'm told."
Robby chuckled, "You're told?"
You shrugged, "I think I'm impulsive a reasonable amount of the time. Others disagree, as I'm sure you would about today."
You had made quite the mess for him. Gloria had come straight downstairs to rip into him as soon as she had heard and it had taken him a good ten minutes to calm her down and assure her there had been no injuries and that you wouldn't be filing a complaint.
However, Liam's behavior had finally gotten him moved straight up to psych, so in the end Robby thought you had inadvertently done him a favor.
So he shook his head, "I can also be persuaded to make rash decisions on behalf of my patients. So I don't really blame you. But if you had gotten hurt, we'd probably be having a very different conversation."
You hummed, "You probably wouldn't have been so happy to be running into me tonight then, huh?"
He smirked and shook his head, "I think I'd be hard pressed to find any situation where I wouldn't be happy to run into you."
You laughed nervously and looked down at your drink, "The feeling is mutual."
Even off the clock, you were still attempting to be put together and fight any kernel of chaos. He recalled the way you had tried to comb down your hair after getting off his bike the other day and he had silently wished you wouldn't. He thought the only time you had ever thrown caution to the wind was probably within your work. Like he had seen you today, falling apart.
He wanted to see you lose control again, but because of him. He remembered how hesitant you had been to wrap your arms tightly around him on his bike and he instead wanted you to be clawing at him to get closer. He yearned to have you say his name again, but desperate and wrecked, begging for release only he could give.
"Any chance you want to get out of here?" He asked softly.
Your eyes snapped to his, then to his hand, wrapped around his beer bottle, "With you?" You asked, eyes still on his hand. He didn't miss the way you bit your lip when he lightly tapped his fingers against the bottle.
"With me," he confirmed and your eyes locked on his again.
He wasn't sure what sort of internal debate you were having, but you were silent a few moments as you looked him over. You glanced at your laptop where your evaluation sat, unfinished, and then sighed, "Okay, but it has to be my place."
Ah, a way for you to maintain control. Fine. He'd allow it, for now. Besides, it would give him the chance to get to know you better and get to know the sides of you you didn't allow anyone else to see.
"Deal," he said and stood, pulled out his wallet while you packed up your things. He knew you said to put him on your "tab" but since your cousin owned the bar, he had a suspicion that just meant he was drinking for free. And even though it was just one beer, he didn't like that. So he placed a ten dollar bill on the table and walked you out of the bar.
***
You felt borderline insane as you walked him to your door. It wasn't that you hadn't had a one night stand before, you had had plenty. But you had sworn them off more than a year ago after the last guy you brought home took a piss in your kitchen sink. Said he couldn't find the bathroom in the dark. Never mind the fact that you intentionally left a nightlight on in your bathroom for this very purpose and that he would've had to walk by it to get to your kitchen sink.
Regardless, you had decided you didn't want strangers in your house anymore and you certainly would not willingly enter a stranger's house. So your sex life had taken a very dramatic pause ever since. And maybe that was why you hadn't needed much convincing to bring Robby home. He certainly didn't seem like the type of man who would piss in your sink.
But also, something about him had you wondering if the second he touched you, you would combust on the spot.
Or maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe you really were just that desperate to be touched by anyone at all.
When you opened your front door, you smiled immediately at the sound of your Russian Blue making herself known and reenacting her usual routine of meowing at you in distress until you scooped her up.
Which you did, and she nuzzled into your chest, "We have a guest, Zelda, so you have to be on your best behavior." Her purrs rumbled through you as you scratched behind her ears.
"You have a cat." Robby said, and reached to pet her as well, fingers brushing yours.
"Is that a problem?"
He shook his head, "No," he smiled as he scratched under her chin and was rewarded with her purrs, "Zelda, like, Zelda Fitzgerald?"
You chuckled, "No, Zelda like the video game. The Legend of Zelda."
His eyes went back up to yours and he smirked, "You play video games?"
You shrugged and bent down to let Zelda go. Now that she had yelled at you for leaving and you had apologized with scratches, she would disappear probably until Robby left. She never much cared for the men you brought home.
"Helps me decompress. I've played them since I was a kid, but less often now. I don't always have the time." You turned to look at him and found him watching you, a fond look on his face, "What?"
"Nothing," he said again, still that slight smile on his face, "It's just that I walked into your house moments ago and I feel like I've already learned more about you in the last minute than I have in the last three days."
You nearly physically flinched at that, but turned away to hide your facial expression from him. This wasn't exactly what you had brought him here for, to get to know you. You just wanted to get laid by a seemingly normal, handsome doctor.
"Do you want something to drink?" You asked as you headed towards the kitchen, "I don't have any alcohol but I have some seltzer or soda?"
"Sure," he said, "I'll have a seltzer."
As you rummaged through your fridge you heard him call from the next room, "Is it okay if I play something on your record player?"
Despite your earlier thoughts, that you didn't want him to know you, you were endeared that he seemed to be losing himself in your things, in your house.
"Go ahead," you called back and grabbed two cans of seltzer.
By the time you got to the living room, he was playing All the Ways by the Secret Sisters. You were pretty sure it was the same record you had left in the player the last time you used it.
"You know this song?" You asked, as you handed him a seltzer.
He shook his head and popped open the can, "No, I was just curious what you were last listening to. I like it, though," he said as the verse progressed.
You sipped your seltzer and feeling his eyes on you, turned to look at him, "What?"
"Dance with me?"
You laughed, "You don't strike me as the dancing type."
He shook his head, "All this song calls for is swaying, which I can manage." He put his seltzer down on your coffee table and held out his hand to you.
You rolled your eyes, but decided to humor him, placing a hand in his and the other on his shoulder. You hoped he couldn't hear the way your breathing quickened with his hand to your back and your chest pressed to his.
And it was nice, being held and swayed while the record spun. This was quickly becoming something other than what you imagined a one night stand to be. Perhaps a bit more romantic than you were explicitly comfortable with. Usually, by this point your pants were already off, but you thought maybe it was a symptom of his generation that he was taking his time.
As the song swelled and ebbed, you felt him press his face into your hair, then to the skin just below your ear. And suddenly you were tilting your head to fully expose your neck to him, like a dog rolling over onto its back in submission. He moved his mouth slowly and sensually along your neck, hands squeezing your hips gently as if to anchor you to him in case you were to pull away. He needn't worry about that, though, because you were on another plane of existence entirely, drowning yourself in the feel of his lips and tongue and teeth against your skin, the drag of his beard along your throat.
Until you couldn't take it anymore and you were pulling his face up to meet yours so you could kiss him properly. He kissed slowly and purposefully, like there was no rush, like he didn't want to waste a single second. When he slid his tongue against yours, he moaned into your mouth, and the sound sent a thrill through you. So much so, that you began kissing him harder, faster—
But he only brought his hands up to your cheeks, held your face firmly as he reasserted the pace, until it was devastatingly slow again. You whined, which was very unlike you, and you felt Robby smile against your mouth, "It's okay, baby," he said softly, "there'll be time for hard and fast later. Just humor me for a while."
Oh. Oh, you really liked the way he said that, the way he'd called you baby. Another thing you weren't used to, being directed, being told what was going to happen. It was usually you calling the shots and another man's poor attempt at dirty talking you. You once pressed a hand over a man's mouth to quiet him enough to allow you to come as you rode him into oblivion.
But Robby's voice was both rough and smooth, soothing. You thought he could probably murmur the most vulgar words in your ear and you'd still want him, badly.
You let him direct you, let him set the pace, let him slowly, agonizingly undress you until you were in just bra and underwear. And he pulled back slightly to look you over, eyes darkening with lust, "Take me to your bed?" he asked softly.
You took him by the hand and led him to your bedroom, licked your lips when he pushed you back onto the bed and began to undress.
When he was in just his boxers he crawled over you and you ran your hands eagerly over every inch of his skin you could. He leaned down to kiss your neck again, one of his hands trailing down your chest, your belly, until he was rubbing you over your underwear. Your hips lifted up and into his palm and he covered your mouth with his own when you moaned.
"You're soaked," he whispered, smug, "I've barely touched you."
You took his lip gently between your teeth and then released him, "I've been thinking about you while I touched myself the last few days," you whispered before you could think better of it, "I think it's sort of a weird Pavlovian response now."
The groan he made sounded pained as he slipped his hand fully into your underwear. "You were thinking about me, huh? When you were getting yourself off?"
You nodded, unable to form words as his fingers slid up and down your folds, denying you the friction you really needed.
"And what was I doing in your head, hm?" You sighed when his finger circled your puffy clit, "Was it this?"
"Something like that, yeah." Your back arched when he slipped a finger inside you, so much thicker and longer than your own, he reached the deep spot inside you that had your toes curling effortlessly.
You sighed into his mouth as he curled his finger up just slightly, slowly thrusting in and out. His pace was so languid you began moving your own hips, trying to encourage him to quicken, but he placed his free hand on your stomach, "So impatient," he tutted, "is it always a race with you to come?"
Yes. It was, in fact. You were always trying to come as fast as possible so whoever you were with wouldn't lose interest. Even with Robby, you worried he might get you close to the precipice and then decide he couldn't wait anymore, that he needed to come first.
And then, what the fuck would be the point of all this? You took this man into your home, let him meet your cat, let him into your bed, and what? No orgasm in return?
But you couldn't say any of this, worried you'd come across as a greedy bitch and also it was difficult to form coherent sentences once he added a second finger.
So instead, your stupid, dumb, pleasure addled brain decided to just beg, "Please."
He pulled his face back marginally so you got a full view of him, perched above you. His eyes were black pits of desire, but beneath that, there was something else. A gentleness, a fondness, a tenderness. Directed at you.
You didn't think anyone had ever looked at you with such adoration. He didn't even really know you. The intimacy of his gaze embarrassed you and so you closed your eyes so you wouldn't have to see it.
Eyes closed, you felt him kiss up your jaw to your ear, fingers still moving at a snail's pace.
"You sound so pretty when you beg," he crooned, his hot breath on the shell of your ear, "wanna hear you do it again."
You hated the way your body responded to his voice, a fire low in your belly stoked by his words, and still you could only whimper in response, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. You couldn't recall a time a man had ever had you like this, that you had allowed a man to have you like this, so vulnerable and desperate for him.
"You can do it," he cooed, all condescension as he pulled his fingers out of you. Before you had a chance to complain about that he slapped your pussy lightly and it sent shockwaves through your clit, "Beg me to come."
You groaned, pushed your face up and into his neck, "Please, Robby."
He covered your mouth with his own again, kissed you hard, teeth dragging over your lower lip, "Good girl," he murmured and kissed you again, his praise sending chills up your arms.
He kissed his way down your body until he was between your legs and he pressed his mouth to the damp spots on the fabric of your underwear. He kissed you thoroughly through the fabric, his moan vibrating off you. He was such a fucking tease but you absolutely would not beg him again.
"Robby," you said again, but this time in warning.
He laughed, "Alright, alright," he pulled the waistband of your underwear down, allowed you to lift your hips so he could pull them off you, "message received."
When he lowered his mouth to you, his tongue expertly working you, a stray, fleeting thought passed to the front of your mind that maybe this was why people got married. Maybe if you found someone who could make you feel this good, that made you think this must be why people believed in heaven, in God. Maybe that was enough reason to tie yourself to someone forever.
The thought was there and gone like a passing shower, almost as if your brain was too afraid to acknowledge why you would be experiencing that specific sentiment. And then Robby focused his mouth on your clit and slipped his fingers back inside you and there was no room to think anything at all.
Your walls tightened around his fingers as his tongue flicked against your clit until your climax ripped through you. Your body writhed against his mouth as you rode out the waves until they crested and receded.
You were breathing hard, eyelids fluttering open, when you felt him pull his fingers out of you. He sucked your juices from his fingers and even after finishing, your stomach tightened in response.
It shocked you how easily everything he did turned you on. Your eyes trailed down his chest, catalogued his Star of David necklace, his freckles, the smattering of chest hair, down to his belly, the hair that grew there and disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers, you filed it all away.
His erection was obvious in his boxers as his mouth came back up to meet yours, "you doing okay, sweetheart?" he murmured into your mouth.
You felt yourself melt. With every passing moment you started to wonder if this man was ruining you for sex with anyone else ever again. You managed a nod and kissed him back. Part of you wondered if he had realized just how undone you were by him. Still, you wanted more. And this, like so much of this sexual experience, was foreign to you. You were used to going through the motions to make another man come. Most of the time, you resigned yourself to being a pillow princess, not really an active participant, more of a let's get this over with attitude.
But with Robby, you yearned to touch him, feel him, wanted to be filled to the brim with him. When you reached into his boxers to stroke his cock with your hand, it was his turn to moan. As he did, he reached for your face. He gently pressed fingers that were just inside of you to your lips, "Open."
His word was firm, meant to be a command, and yet there was a question in his eyes. You met his eyes, gave the smallest of nods as you opened your mouth. You took his fingers into your mouth, sucked on them obscenely while you pumped him with your hand. Each time you brought your fist up to his head, you noted the precum there and sucked on his fingers a little harder.
"Jesus Christ," he panted as he watched you, his hips involuntarily rutting into your hand.
When he pulled his fingers from your mouth, you rose up to meet his lips, needing to kiss him, to taste his tongue and feel the roughness of his beard against you. You needed more of him, sucked on his tongue as if it were oxygen after resurfacing from the ocean. He made needy noises, grinding down on your soaked pussy still with the fabric of his boxers between you.
You pulled on them impatiently, no longer able to disguise your neediness, not caring if you seemed desperate anymore. He met your desperation, quickly pulled them down and off, "Do you have a condom?" He asked, breathless.
You did, but for a moment you considered asking him to fuck you raw. You felt crazed, reckless in a way you had never been before. You couldn't fathom the idea of creating another barrier between you. But you blinked, reminded yourself you didn't really know him. You had an IUD, it wasn't pregnancy you were worried about. You knew you were clean, but who could say that he was? He was a doctor, so you'd hope he wouldn't lie about that sort of thing, but again, you didn't know him.
You cursed the rational side of your brain and reached for your nightstand. You hastily ripped open the condom wrapper, hushed his laughing at your impatience with a kiss and worked the condom onto him.
He cradled the back of your neck as he kissed you, guided you back onto the pillow, and then you felt him poking, first at your leg, then he nudged your entrance and inhaled sharply.
You locked eyes with him as he slowly pushed himself inside you, the two of you sighing collectively as he filled you to the brim. You whined at the stretch, immediately wanting him to move, "Please," you begged again, wiggling your hips in a useless attempt to create friction.
He gave you a lopsided grin, pressed his face into your sweaty neck, "It's not a race, sweetheart." He chided again, took your earlobe between his teeth as he finally started to move his hips. He moved slow, but his thrusts were so deep and strong, he pushed you up until your head hit the bedpost.
It didn't hurt, and you barely noticed it for the stars you were seeing every time he pushed into you, but after a moment you registered that your head was hitting his hand instead. He had placed his hand between your head and the bedpost, kissed your forehead as he rutted into you, "sorry, sweetheart," he murmured.
Oh, it was dizzying the way you felt delusional with lust one second and the next wondering if this is what it felt like to be in love. You had thought you'd been in love before, but it had never felt like this, all consuming. You had only known him a few days but you wondered how anyone he slept with didn't fall in love with him. Maybe they did. Maybe he was just that legendary a lay.
It was close to being over, you could tell. He was moving faster, he'd buried his face in your shoulder, bit down to muffle his moans. When he came, you stroked his head, didn't mind the way his sweat mingled with yours, damp skin sticking to you.
And with his orgasm, your head began to clear of the lust laden fog. Breathless, his mouth searched for yours, sucked your bottom lip between his own. Suddenly, you felt terrified of your own want. There was an ache so deep inside you, reserved just for him, that you felt tears burn the backs of your eyes as he kissed you.
Gently, you pushed him off of you, murmured something about going to take a shower, and ran out of the room.
You turned on the shower with a shaky hand, felt the onset of a panic attack impending in your chest. You sat on the floor of the tub, let the warm spray of the water regulate your breathing.
This was supposed to be a one night stand. You were supposed to fuck him and forget him, like you always did. And like what always happened, you would get out of this shower, walk back to your bedroom, and he would be gone. You always used the shower after sex to provide your guests with a good excuse to leave. That way there were no awkward goodbyes and you could go to sleep having cleaned them off you.
It didn't matter that, actually, if you weren't so tired you thought you'd probably like to fuck him again. Maybe this time, you'd count each freckle underneath his eyes and watch the fucked out expression on his face while you rode him.
You scrubbed at your face, stood up and turned off the shower. There wouldn't be a next time, you reminded yourself. One and done, that was your rule. You liked your life the way it was, clean and neat, just you and Zelda. Relationships were messy. Love was messy. Unnecessary.
You wrapped a towel around your body and headed back to the bedroom. Walking through the open door, you started when you saw him, still sprawled out on the bed. He had put his boxers back on and a pair of readers was perched on his nose as he read the book in his hand, Psychological Evaluations for the Courts: A Handbook for Mental Health Professionals and Lawyers.
This was all surprising enough, but what really threw you for a loop, was Zelda curled up on his bare shoulder, her face smushed into his as he used a free hand to scratch under her chin. Zelda always stayed away from your guests.
"Hey, can I borrow this?" He asked, nodding towards the book.
You blinked, "You're still here," you said softly.
"Oh," he pushed his glasses up onto his head, "did you want me to go?"
You opened and closed your mouth, "N-no. I just, um," at that moment, Zelda meowed and jumped off the bed to your feet, "Usually, it's just that while I'm in the shower usually my… guests… leave."
He smirked at you, "I don't have to stay—"
"I want you to stay," you blurted, "but I should tell you that I get nightmares. Sometimes."
"Yeah, okay. Me too." He shrugged and looked back at the book, "Seriously, can I borrow this?"
You smirked and dropped your towel, grabbed a clean t-shirt to throw on. You felt his eyes rove over your body until you pulled the t-shirt over your head, "You want to borrow one of my reference books?"
You crawled back onto the bed, tried to ignore the gnawing thought in your head that you shouldn't be doing this. This broke the rules. You should've sent him home.
He shrugged, "It's interesting."
Zelda hopped back on the bed and settled on top of the place where your body connected to Robby's. And Robby looked down at her and smiled, scratched the spot under her chin again. Fuck. If he could win Zelda over, a feat only ever achieved by you, it was over for you.
"Yeah, sure," you said, "you can borrow it. But that means you have to see me again."
He hummed and lightly stroked his knuckles across your cheekbone, "Was already planning on that."
***
You follow them home, watch Liam walk her to the door. There's a chill to the night air that comes at summer's end when the greens and blues of the season begin to dull.
You can hear the friendship bracelets bounce against one another as they walk. There's a moment, when they stand on the stoop, where Liam leans his head towards Chloe— and she steps back.
They're speaking, but you can't hear them. Liam's hands are balled into fists at his side and you feel that ice cold dread again. You want to go to him, pull him away from her, but your feet seem glued to the ground.
There's nothing you can do but watch as Chloe turns away from Liam and to her door and Liam picks up the aluminum baseball bat abandoned by the stairs—
You resurfaced from the dream as if clawing yourself from your own grave having forgotten how to breathe, cheeks wet and chest heaving.
"What—what's wrong?"
Robby's voice was rough with sleep as he fumbled for the lamp on the bedside table. You couldn't pull enough air into your lungs to speak, but even if you could you weren't sure what you'd say. You had forgotten you had fallen asleep with him, limbs entangled.
If you had the wherewithal to care, you'd probably be embarrassed about the fact that he kept seeing you like this, falling apart. Something no one else had ever had the privilege of seeing. You kept having to remind yourself you had only known him for three days. That eventually he would leave, would grow tired of you, of this. Likely sooner rather than later. The infatuation would fade and so would he.
But when the lamp switched on and his eyes landed on you, heaving for air, you saw nothing but soft concern, "C'mere," he said and opened his arms to you.
You hesitated for only a moment before you collapsed against his chest, pressed your ear to his skin so you could hear the steady beat of his heart.
He held you silently while your breathing leveled and your sobs reduced to hiccups.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked finally, mouth pressed to your hair.
You shook your head and watched the moon from your window, "Can we take a ride on your bike?"
"Now?" He asked, surprise heavy in his voice, "It's 3AM."
You took a shaky breath, "Need some air."
He seemed to ponder this silently for a moment before sighing, "Yeah, okay. If that'll make you feel better."
The two of you got up from bed and dressed quickly and quietly. The silence of the nighttime and the cool crisp air immediately had you feeling more like yourself.
Robby grabbed his extra helmet and before he went to place it on your head, hovered above it, "Is it gonna make you claustrophobic?"
It was sweet that he even thought it, that it would trigger your panic attack again having to put something over your face. But that wasn't the sort of anxiety you had. In fact, being in enclosed spaces (like his arms), was comforting. So you shook your head.
He put the helmet on your head like you were a child, made sure it was buckled properly, and then he was climbing onto the bike, putting his own helmet on.
You pushed the windshield on your helmet up so you could feel the wind against your face as he drove through Pittsburgh. Your arms were clasped firmly around his waist and just like the first time, whenever he stopped he stroked his hand gently atop yours.
It took you a while, but you recognized when he was driving out of the city where he was taking you.
His headlights lit the road into West End Overlook Park, the lights from the city lit up the skyline even at this hour. Robby parked and turned off the engine, held your hand as you dismounted.
After taking off your helmets, you walked to the railing so you could see the city fully. Robby twined his arms around your waist from behind and rested his head on top of yours, "You feel any better?"
"Yeah," You grabbed at his arms and pulled them tighter around you, "Thank you. Sorry I woke you."
"Nothing to be sorry for, I don't sleep well anyway."
You closed your eyes while he kissed down your cheek to your jawbone, reveled in the feel of him wrapped around you like this. And you ignored the voice in the back of your head that reminded you it couldn't last.
***
The next weeks and months passed in a blur. On all of your spare days and nights you were either at Robby's or he was at yours.
You expected for the infatuation the wear off, for the high of the sex to fade, but the sex only got better as you learned each other's preferences and you still had a dopey smile on your face whenever you opened the door to see him on the other side.
He spent hours sitting in the chair by your window reading with Zelda in his lap while she watched the birds fly by the window. Robby became so enamored by her, he bought her a harness and leash, said he wanted to train her to go outside so the two of you could take her on hikes.
But still, there remained a wall between you. You both occasionally had nightmares and though you were both willing to provide physical comfort, neither of you ever raised the topics of your demons. Not explicitly. Robby had asked you that first time, but that had seemed to be only because he felt like that's what was expected of him. And the second you said you didn't want to talk about it, he took it as permission to never bring it up again.
At first, you thought this was a win. You had no desire to be more vulnerable with him than you already were. The sex was good, the company was nice, why complicate things unnecessarily?
But then things started to take a turn when he'd come over miserable and wrecked from work and refuse to talk about it.
After one particularly lousy day, he'd snapped at you when you asked him one too many times if he was okay.
"I've told you at least three separate times now that I'm fine, so could you please fucking drop it?"
You swallowed, tried to ignore his tone, "Well it's just that what you're saying doesn't match your whole attitude so I'm trying to give you a chance to tell me what the problem is—"
"Why? So you can fucking psychoanalyze me? I'm not one of your clients."
You bristled at that, "You know I'm not a therapist."
He huffed out a breath through his nose, "Right. Could've fooled me."
You nodded slowly to yourself, tried not to let the hurt show on your face as you headed to the entryway, "You know, I just remembered I have this evaluation I really should be working on so—"
"Hey, come on," You heard him sigh, his steps following after you, "I'm sorry, don't go."
You were grabbing your coat from the hooks by his door, but he snatched it out of your hand and rehung it before stepping in front of you and walking you backwards until your back hit the wall, "I'm sorry, I don't know why—" He cut himself off and sighed, took your face in his hands and started kissing your cheeks, your jaw, down your neck, "I'm sorry," he repeated against your skin.
And you hated yourself because your eyelids fluttered closed at his touch, like they always did. You allowed him to make you forget, or alternatively, make you remember why you kept coming back. He picked you up, hoisted your legs around his waist as he still pressed your back firmly to the wall. With every stroke of his tongue against yours, you couldn't remember why you ever wanted to leave in the first place.
It became a pattern with you both. One of you pissed off or hurting and refusing to tell the other why, the other deciding they were sick of the bullshit and wanted to leave, until the clothes started to come off.
But even then, you couldn't keep the emotions and the sex separate. They began to bleed into one another, frustration coming out in rough and hard sex, devastation occasionally leading to crying after orgasms, and steadily it became more and more of a mess.
You both began to withdraw, and though you felt yourself doing the same thing to him, you felt heartbroken and devastated when you invited him over and he said he was too busy. Then you were angry at him, but more angry with yourself for allowing yourself to do the very thing you swore you wouldn't; fall in love. Because there was no fucking denying it now.
Not when he ghosted you and you felt like you couldn't breathe. When you woke up from a nightmare and he wasn't there, so you had to picture his arms around you instead to calm yourself down. Only to then start crying and wish you could call him, just to hear his voice. It was excruciating. You would have tried anything to get rid of the feeling. If you believed in the Devil, you may have attempted to summon him to strike up a deal.
The day he left your reference book in your mailbox without ringing the doorbell, no note, no text, you decided you hated him. But it wasn't the truth. It was just survival. There was nowhere else to put all the love you had for him, the ache in your chest when you heard a motorcycle go by. You always checked to see if it was him, but it never was.
It was over, you thought. The first and last time you had fallen in love. You wouldn't be this stupid ever again.
***
Robby was miserable. Had been since he stopped answering your texts. The day he left your book in your mailbox, he had intended to ring the doorbell, to see your face one last time. But he couldn't do it. He thought he didn't deserve to. And you didn't want him and his baggage anyway. He had been hurting you consistently for weeks. He felt it. He knew you felt it too by the way you had started pulling away.
Before, work had been miserable, but at least he had you for a while to go home to. But now, it was just work and home alone. He tortured himself with the thought of you. Jerked off in the shower thinking about your tits in his mouth and the way you used to beg for him. If before he had been occasionally moody at work, he was now insufferable, snapping at everyone.
When there was a Code Tan called after Jack had just arrived for shift change, he thought nothing of it.
"You go home, brother," Jack said, lightly tapping him on the chest as he passed, "I got this."
And so, he had begun to pack up his things, had his backpack over his shoulder and his helmet in his hand when he turned for the exit—
Only to see you walk in from chairs, eyes red rimmed and a cold compress pressed to your cheek. You looked tired and frankly more resigned than he could ever recall seeing you.
He didn't give himself time to think when he dropped his backpack and helmet at the hub and walked towards you.
"What're you doing here?" He asked sharply and on instinct, brought his hands up to check your injury, but you reeled away from him. He frowned at that. He knew he had hurt you in the days and weeks leading up to when he disappeared, but he had thought when he Houdini'd out of your life he was doing you a favor. And it had been at least a month since then so he thought you'd be fine. You were always fine. But there was an inferno in your eyes now.
"I'm the code tan," you said, "a client got in a good punch while I was upstairs."
He clenched his jaw, "They don't have security with you in there?"
"I asked them to wait outside," you said, "it helps with rapport to let them think that I trust them. Backfired on me this time, though."
He decided not to reprimand you on that, "Let me take a look—"
You pulled back again, "I don't want you, I want a different doctor."
Before Robby even had time to properly register the venom in your voice, Jack joined you, "Hey, is this our code tan? Thought I told you to beat it, Robinavitch."
"I can handle this one—"
"No, I'd prefer it if Dr.—" You looked towards Jack, waiting for him to give his name.
"Abbot."
"—Dr. Abbot. I want Dr. Abbot to look me over."
Robby's chest tightened, "Sweetheart—"
"Don't call me that."
Jack looked between the two of you in mild confusion, "Okay…" He said, stretching out the word, "why don't you follow me? Robby, go home."
"Jack—"
"It's what the patient wants!" He called over his shoulder as he ushered you away from Robby.
Jack took you to an open bed, had you sit down, and you saw that you had a clear line of sight to the hub. Robby was now sitting at a workspace, eyes zeroed in on you.
"Would you mind closing the curtains?" You asked.
Jack turned his head back toward the hub, saw Robby and sighed before drawing the curtains around the two of you. Then he raised two gloved hands, "May I take a look?"
You nodded, pulled the compress from your face. Jack didn't betray any opinion. Whether or not he thought the injury was bad, his face remained neutral.
"How'd you get this?"
"I was punched by a psych patient upstairs."
His eyes darted from the injury to your eyes, then back again, "You're the psychologist Robby was seeing?"
Now it was your turn to eye him, "I didn't think he told anyone. It wasn't… It wasn't anything, really."
"Well," Jack shined a light in your eyes, watched your pupils react, "Whatever it was, it fucked him up. More fucked up than he was to begin with."
It went against everything you had presumed in the last few weeks, that Robby was mourning you. He could've texted, he could've called, he could've showed up at your door in the middle of the night and you likely would have forgiven him.
"Yeah, well. He's not the only one it fucked up."
He sighed, "It might help if you talk to him."
You snorted, "Right, yeah. Is that your recommended treatment plan?"
He shook his head and took off his gloves, "No. I want you to get a CT just to make sure nothing's broken, which I don't think anything is. Then when you go home I want you to ice it for about ten to twenty minutes at a time for the first 24-48 hours. Swelling should go down after that. You'll probably have some bruising for the next two or three weeks."
"Thank you."
He looked you over again as he stood, "He's been fucked up since it ended, but when it was going on, I'd never seen him that happy. If you were even a third as happy as he was… I think you should talk to him."
And then he was gone and you were grateful that he kept the curtain closed around you so Robby couldn't see it when you started crying.
***
The CT came back clean and you gathered your things to head home, but as soon as you walked back into central, there was Robby. Waiting for you.
He matched your stride, walked with you towards the exit, "Let me take you home."
"No thank you."
"I don't understand why you're so upset with me, could you just talk to me—"
It was so ridiculous, you barked out a laugh, "Now you wanna talk? After you ignored my messages and dropped off my book without even ringing the fucking doorbell? Too much of a fucking coward to face me?"
You had walked outside now and he grabbed your wrist, spun you to face him, "I thought it was what you wanted. I didn't ring the doorbell because I knew if I saw you I'd beg you to let me back in again and I didn't think that was fair to you."
You were so frustrated, so appalled by the idea that after reaching out to him with no response that you didn't want to hear from him, that you couldn't form words. You pulled your wrist from him, placed your hands on his chest, and shoved.
"Hey—Stop—" You shoved him again, "Stop that—" This time, when you went to shove him again, he grabbed your wrists and backed you against the wall of the hospital, "Enough."
This close to him, looking into those warm brown eyes again, your anger began to slip replaced by the seemingly unending devastation you had been trying to dampen since he disappeared, "I hate you," you said, chin wobbling, "You made me fall in love with you and then you left."
You watched his face transform with your admission, both soften and sadden, "You never told me you loved me."
You laughed, a tear escaping to carve a path down your cheek, "And would it have made a difference?"
"Maybe!" He said fiercely, "Maybe if you ever let me in fully it would have been different, not this half in half out bullshit."
"Oh, okay, so it's all my fault then."
He shook his head and released your wrists, looked down at the ground, "I didn't say that."
"What about you, huh? Every time I asked you to tell me what you were feeling you'd bite my fucking head off."
He looked back up at you, "You didn't really want to know, I was following your lead. You never fucking shared anything with me unless you were fully breaking down and even then it was like you were so careful about what you did tell me. I didn't think you wanted anything deeper so I kept it to myself."
You bit your lip, let the silence fall between the two of you and leaned your back against the wall. After a moment you dug into your pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, "Do you have a light?" You asked, voice rough and flat from the shouting and crying.
You watched him out of the corner of your eye dig a lighter from his pocket. You put a cigarette between your lips and leaned into him, tried not to notice the warmth of his hand as he cupped a hand around the light to keep the breeze from blowing it out. After you leaned back and took a couple of drags, you passed the cigarette to him, which he accepted.
"Did you love me?" You asked, staring off into the distance, not capable of looking at him in case he gave you the devastating answer. You felt him watch you for a moment before he looked forward again.
"I still love you," he said softly, passing the cigarette back to you.
You tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart, took a long drag from the cigarette, "Zelda misses you. She makes me sit in that chair by the window you used to sit in and watch the birds with her, but I don't think she enjoys my company as much as yours."
He chuckled, "I miss her too."
You inhaled a shaky breath, "I don't know how to do this. How to be in a relationship and be… emotionally available. But I think I want to try. With you."
When you looked over at him he had a small smile on his face, "I would really like that."
You put out your cigarette and finally let him touch you. His hands coming up to cradle your face, he carefully avoided your injury. And then his lips were on yours and you thought your knees might buckle with the relief.
"I'm sorry I left, for snapping at you, for not ringing the doorbell, all of it," he said frantically in your mouth, "I was stupid, I was scared, and I didn't think you felt the same."
"I forgive you," you murmured, "And I'm sorry too. For all of it."
He pulled away from you slightly, gently ran his knuckles across your cheek, "We'll figure it out."
You nodded, nudged your nose against his, "Do you think you could take me home now?"
He smiled against you, "Absolutely."
He led you by the hand to his bike, kissed your forehead before pulling the helmet over your head and buckling it beneath your chin.
It likely would never be easy between the two of you. There would inevitably be more fighting, more silence. But you thought it might be okay now, knowing that the love was there. Knowing that neither of you would leave like that again. You were hopeful and you were done denying yourself what you wanted. You thought Robby might be done with it too.
You held onto him tightly as he rode through the streets of Pittsburgh, towards the sunset, towards home.
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."
