The Pitt- Dr. Robby : Where Is My Husband
Pairing: Dr. Micheal "Robby" Robinavitch x Wife!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Wife Reader, Fatigue/Tired Robby, Angst (due to 12hr shift), 12 hr shift Robby, mentions of stress, extreme fluff, soft domestic moments, loving married couple behavior, husband being absurdly gentle, tender affection, emotional softness, mild teasing & banter, heart-melting content, cozy vibes
Summary: After a 12hr shift Robby is more then ready to come home to his sweet wife. Except he finds her in the kitchen singing her heart out and dancing in his clothes to a song that makes him laugh.
A/n: Based loosely on the song by RAYE (Where is my husband).
Wc- 1.2k
The Pitt Master List
A grueling 12-hour shift is over. Robby has already switched off with Dr. Abbot on the roof and is walking home. The cool Pittsburgh summer air grounds him as he heads to his wife.
On his walk, Robby takes his ring from his Star of David necklace and slides it onto his finger. It's warm from pressing against his chest all day. He does this every morning and night. The walk is short, but he’s so ready for three days off that he can’t imagine anything but coming home.
Snuggling into his wife's side, watching his documentaries, and planning the next week's dinners. His walk isn’t long, before he’s walking up his condo building. The elevator ride is quiet; most in the building are already home.
He can already hear the music when he’s standing at the front of his condo. The music is muffled, so he can’t really get the lyrics. The lock opens with ease as he steps inside. The music is blaring, and the sound is coming from their kitchen.
He drops his bag off at the front door and slips his shoes off with ease. His back aches a little from standing all day. Your singing can barely be heard over the volume of the music, so he follows it. In the kitchen, you’re standing in his clothes. A very loose-fitting shirt that covers almost to your knees. His white, worn sock is making you slide all over the kitchen.
Why is this beautiful man waiting for me to get old? Why he already testing my patience? I only fear he's taking time with other women that ain't me
Your hands are in the air. The food that you’re cooking is steaming on the stove. Your lungs probably burn, but you don’t seem to care. You also don’t seem to know that your husband has arrived home. He takes you in all your glory. Spinning around and singing, making his heart warm. He leans into the side of the wall, arms crossed, making a mental image of you in the kitchen, in his clothes.
While I've been reviewing applications Wait 'til I get my hands on him, I'ma tell him off too For how long he kept mе waiting, anticipating Praying to the Lord to give him to my loving arms And despite my frustrations
He continues to watch you, pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. Snapping several pictures of you, thanking the lord that his phone is on silent due to work. Work may have drained him mentally, but simply watching you like this, so carefree, is already refilling his drained battery. The pictures are in safekeeping on his phone. A folder simply named “My Angel”.
And he must need me (he must need me) Completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away? (Is he far away?)
He may not like songs like this, but he can’t bring himself to turn the speaker down. You’re golden under the lights on in the condo. He stands there like a creep, watching you. Still, you’re completely unaware that he’s even come home, or that he's even standing in the condo.
You look so happy, bringing the spoon up to your lips, lip syncing to the words coming from the speaker. As if you’re singing to a whole concert full of people instead of a pot on the stove.
Is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Robby catches himself really listening to the words now. He wasn’t okay before he came home, but now he’s doing fucking great. You’re the light of his life, and this right here is proof. That even without you knowing, you’re making his day worth it. This is all worth it, the 12-hour shift away from you. Watching you sing and be happy is enough for him.
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover?
“I’m right here, hunny.” You scream, dropping the spoon to the floor. Spinning around too fast on his white sock. It makes him laugh truly for the first time in the past 12 hours. Robby is still leaning against the doorway.
The minute his eyes are on you, his heart aches in his chest. God, he has really missed you. Without even thinking, his feet are moving towards you. You’re so beautiful like this, in your natural state, wearing his clothes. A shell shock from the world that Robby had just come from.
In a real way, for the first time in the past 12 hours, Robby remembers that you are safe, at home, alive, and all his. He finally grabs hold of you. His hand is softer than when he’s at the hospital.
Resting them. gently on your waist. You feel so warm, so right in his hands that he’s glad that you’re already married, cause he’d probably ask you all over again right here, right now.
“I like coming home to a concert.” He teases. You can’t help the groan that leaves you as you roll your eyes. “Was it a bad shift?” You ask on autopilot now that Robby is home.
“Not a bad shift, just long,” Robby answers. “I can tell.” He wishes that you didn’t have to stay home for 12 hours by yourself; he wishes that the weight wasn’t placed on your shoulders.
He knows rationally that he can’t do that for you, so instead he pulls you close, the pair of you swaying to the music playing on the speaker. Pretending that you are dancing like you did on your wedding night.
Not you resting your head on his chest because the sheer day has finally managed to wrap itself around you. The songs play until it goes to play another song, this one low and slow. He kisses you on your temple because he simply misses doing that.
“Found your husband yet?” He asks, teasing you. You hum softly; the sound is so soft and warm. The food on the stove starts to boil over, and you’re forced to pull away from each other.
“Dinner is almost done. Go take a shower, and then we can eat.” You say, looking at him with tired eyes. He listens right away. Stripping his scrubs the minute he makes it to the bedroom.
He showers quickly, wanting nothing more than to be right back at your side. When he comes back out. The music is off, and he finds you once more in the kitchen. Plating his food. His arms wrap around your waist in a protective way. His head is resting on your shoulder.
“Table or living room?” you ask, “Living room.” He answers, wanting nothing but to cuddle with you after eating dinner. The two of you fall asleep to a documentary about the ocean. Cradled in Robby's arms, his nose stuffed in your hair. Robby knows he’ll wake later with a pain in his back, but for now he’s just content being like this with you.
Posted on 11/17/25
