#pittbroke

[pittvet]

[ @pittbroke sent ] : come save me hero

[ michael ]: You've got awful timing, Michael.

[ michael ]: Let me get my leg back on, and I'll be right there.

[ michael ]: Do us both a favor, okay? Drink some water while you wait.

[dana3vans]

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH: TXT. I DON’T KNOW WHO ELSE TO CALL.

[ SMS ; ROBBY. ]: i’d be offended if you chose anyone else to call

[ SMS ; ROBBY. ]: you know i’ll always pick up, even if i’m runnin around

[ SMS ; ROBBY. ]: dial me. let’s talk. @pittbroke.

[pmtcrn]

PROMPTS FOR WORKAHOLIC CHARACTERS WHO PUSH THEMSELVES TOO HARD / @pittbroke

she assumes he means it LITERALLY, considering she almost took a spill. there's a part of her that considers the man may also mean it figuratively. as in — maybe you need create healthy boundaries with work because you're heading towards a fiery burnout ! — or . . . maybe he actually does mean it in a literal sense. at least that's what andrea hoped for. her family already thought she worked too much. the last thing she needed was to hear it at work too.

her work ethic is what gave her a financially stable life. it's what set her siblings up for success because if she didn't . . . who would ? so no — she didn't see anything wrong ( she didn't want to see ). andrea kneels down for a brief moment to tie one of her shoes laces that had come undone. "there! happy?" she stands back up, a playful brow raised at robby. it's spoken in jest in an attempt to brush off his concern, in whatever way he means it.

[pmtcrn]

❛  you can hide here for a while.  ❜

is it ever really casual ? andrea's philosophy had been that it surely could be. if both parties were on the same page, there shouldn't be any issues. right ? she's done casual and there weren't any complaints on her part thus far. and that's what her and robby had. there was a certain ease to this unspoken agreement between the both of them. on nights when the loneliness crept in the way it usually does or the need for touch that could help silence a racing mind arose, she knew who she could call. and vice versa.

this was one of those nights. she didn't want to think about what was bothering her, and she definitely didn't want to talk about it. the moment the door swung open, andrea wasted no time to attach herself to the pair of lips she found herself craving more often than not ( she wouldn't dare admit that to herself, let alone him ) . he knew how to help her relax. he always did.

she is in the middle of throwing her shirt on when his words catch her off guard. ' you can hide here for a while. ' it's not like she'd leave right away when all was said and done, but she never stayed too long. any other night, andrea probably would've politely declined. a smug grin would've etched itself onto her lips before giving him one final kiss and calling out ' wouldn't you like that ? ' on her way out. this wasn't one of those nights. it felt different the instant robby had slightly pulled away to look at her after she kissed him when he answered the door. maybe he had seen the sadness in her eyes ? the exhaustion ? the solitude ? whatever it was . . . the invitation felt genuine. it didn't feel like he was doing it out of pity. and that scared her. what scared her more was how much she wanted to stay. to hide here with him where it felt safe . . . where it felt like for once she didn't have to hold everything together. the hesitation in her face is evident. finally, she slowly crawls back into his bed. brown eyes attached to his as she sits down beside him. there's a tiny voice in her head that tells her to leave. that this felt a little too intimate. that this was teetering the line of going past casual. she was putting herself in a position to potentially get hurt.

yet in spite of that, she offers him a small, almost timid smile before softly replying, " . . . if you don't mind."

fluffy " can " sentence starters | @pittbroke

[infirmierenolan]

@pittbroke ; random one-liner!

❝ we can fix this, can't we? ❞

[pittvet]

@pittbroke continued.

the gentle knock of robby’s shoulder against his hurts in a way the night attending is not quite prepared for.  a slight grimace flitting across his face,  a too sharp inhale before he can lock it all away.  exhaustion of his own weighs heavy on every part of him.  a deep rooted, whole body ache from the recent ‘vacation’ of pushing himself to his absolute limit,  laden down with tactical gear he has not worn in over a decade.  still,  he imagines it better hidden than the fatigue the other man wears so openly.  even at this newfound worst,  jack doesn’t slump so completely against the desk.  doesn’t roll his neck with grunts that,  were jack less exhausted,  might elicit at least untoward thoughts about the man.

“not sure i like you when you’re honest,” jack replies,  trying for that same tone robby had started with.  he’s pretty sure it falls flat.  the return bump of his shoulder against robby’s is intended to be just that.  a bump.  a playful thing to take the unintentional sting out of his words.  but he lingers,  a harsh huff at the pain already starting to radiate up from his leg from even this slight shift in weight.  “think i should’ve asked john come in today after all.”  there’s too much truth in that statement,  so jack quickly continues,  “at least he’d be optimistic for my benefit.” 

it’s on the tip of his tongue as he falls silent.  a quiet and too desperate plea for the other man to stay beyond the boundaries of his shift.  just a few minutes more.  minutes that will undoubtedly stretch into an hour.  an hour into two,  if jack is lucky enough for robby’s misfortune.  anything,  everything that robby might be willing to spare.  it aches fiercely somewhere deep within him,  the distance that is between them.  distance that he has played a direct role in creating.  ever since he had decided all that time ago — not enough time ago — to move to nights in an attempt to avoid the ghost that lingers in his memory,  in the halls of a house she had never even set foot in.  part of him hopes robby will see it without him having to speak it.  that he’ll offer to stick around for a bit until jack gets his bearings. 

but jack won’t speak it,  can't speak it.  he won’t break that fragile pretense of doing well,  of handling everything well.  too much talk of therapy,  of the good it does.  he should have kept his mouth shut about it.  but how could he have? it does help, however marginally. and he needs for robby to consider it. ( yes, he knows he’s a goddamn hypocrite. extolling the virtues of therapy all while knowing that he’d been planning for over a month what he’s finally done. )  

“any fun plans after this? you’re free and clear to leave pretty early in the night for once. be a shame to waste it on sleep when you've got the next two off.”

[s4nsfrontieres]

@pittbroke asked: if you need to cry, i'll look the other way.

" I don't need you to hold my fucking hand, robby. " she hadn't meant to snap. hadn't meant for it to come out so abrasively, so indiscriminately.

but it'd been a day of disappointments married with minute victories, a single shift comprised of small and imperceptible personal catastrophes — a day that'd started with so much pre - dawn promise that had still, somehow, managed to nosedive into a wreck beyond her anticipation. one she'd been eager to keep behind closed doors.

wheeling around, the tips of her fingers nearly instantly grappling for the thin blinds half - drawn down the trauma room's window, baran pressed the palm of her other hand into her eye like the pressure might release something; like it might ease the pounding in the base of her skull, the prick of frustrated tears starting to burn behind the mascara - less, dark defenses of her lash - line. it hadn't needed to happen here, like this: this complete, semi - public shattering of the perfect mask she'd held up for herself when the foundations she'd spent years stabilising had started to rattle. but in robby's capable hands, hands she'd decided to place her faith in, it had, like a sledgehammer crashing against bowing plywood.

to break down now, here — it was beyond considering. " what I need is some fucking trust. "

[s4nsfrontieres]

@pittbroke asked: how much of that did you see?

" enough, " baran affirmed, the look on her face a mask of nearly faultless restraint. despite the never - ending rush of incoming trauma, the endless thrum of rushing footfalls and too many lives balanced precariously — expertly — in the hands of her residents, PCMD's emergency department was a far cry from the hair raising volatility she remembered from her time out in kabul. there was no warzone here. no scramble to handle the fine balance of life under duress with the constant threat of total annihilation.

no imminent danger of everything collapsing lurking in the corners and doorways; at least not of the same ilk.

there was too much simmering under the surface of robby's operation, all the same. it was crystal clear in the way he scrubbed his hand through his thinning hair like it'd lessen the ensuing headache; in the fraying suspense that she still felt in the silence that seemed to have settled in the contrails of the tail end of the confrontation she'd walked in on. she couldn't be entirely sure what she'd witnessed, in its totality, or what had sparked the ignition to begin with — but right this second, in the middle of the ED's pulsating heart, it was hardly the time or place to let that particular can of worms crack open.

it was barely palpable, the way in which the sinew in her jaw tensed, then flinched, expectant and pointed both, as she rearranged her hold on the ipad tucked into her arm. " maybe you can explain the situation somewhere more private, doctor robinavitch. "