the scarlet fang @thescarletfang - Tumblr Blog

tracing back lucky stars

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, infidelity, swearing, angst, usual medical canon events (not much tho), mention of alcoholic parent, other mentions of death, grief, age gap (less than ten year gap) words: 15.4K synopsis: this fic spans over a decade and follows our reader from first meeting robby in a chance interaction in florida as a resident all the way to 2024. all events take place prior to season one. this is inspired by when harry met sally, as requested from one of my beloved anons. lots of will they won't they, robby being oblivious to his own feelings for like ten goddamn years, i guess slow burn ish??? a/n: hi my friends, can't explain just how much fun i had writing this so huuuuuge thank you to the anon that requested it!! i really hope you love it. they will live in my brain space for quite a while i think. title is taken from song lucky stars by haim. as always thank u for being here!! <3 syd

2013

As you stood at that rental car counter, you decided you hated the south. You hated the way southerners pretended to be nice, but really probably hated your guts. The way they smiled at you and crooned with their syrupy sweet voices that bless your heart, they thought you were a little soft in the head. Everyone always loved to say northerners were assholes, but to you they were just honest. You had infinitely more respect for the guy from Philly who flipped you off in traffic and screamed out his window that you drove like a ninety seven year old lady with glaucoma than the man in front of you who was giving his best Aw Shucks expression as he told you he would not rent his last car to you.

“Ma’am, as I’ve already explained to you, I cannot rent you that car, it’s a manual.”

“And as I’ve already explained to you, Martin, I know how to drive a stick.”

“If that’s true,” He said slowly, “Then why did you select ‘automatic’ for preferred transmission type on the rental form?”

You sighed and let your hands rise and fall loudly with a smack onto the counter, “Because the year is two thousand and thirteen and I assumed that there would be an automatic car available.”

You were running very low on patience after the morning you’d had. After spending the weekend at an emergency medicine conference, you had gotten up at four in the morning to make an early flight back to Pittsburgh. But lovely, beautiful Panama City, Florida had fucked you over from the moment you woke up this morning.

The hot water in your hotel room had been out and you’d been forced to take an icy shower. You spilt orange juice all over the outfit you planned to wear to the airport and so were forced to instead wear denim shorts that rode just an inch too high. The iced coffee you had made yourself behind schedule to buy before getting to the airport was knocked from your hand by an inattentive cyclist. And you had broken the heel on one of your cowboy boots on your way into the airport. So you hobbled up to bag check only to find out that your flight was cancelled and could not be rescheduled until tomorrow.

You couldn’t wait until tomorrow. You were an R3 and you had a double shift tomorrow and you needed this flight to get back to Pittsburgh at a reasonable hour so you could get whatever sleep possible before reporting for shift. So you really, really needed this fucking car if you had any hope at all of both getting some sleep and making your shift.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m just not comfortable renting you the vehicle. Now, I really need to take care of the next customer–”

“Oh, Jesus, fuck, I’m trying to give you money for a service!” You pushed your credit card and license across the counter, “Please just rent me the car so I can go home!”

“Excuse me,” The voice behind you was rough and warm, and oddly familiar. It took you less than thirty seconds to place him.

You had listened to him speak at the conference for an hour about how to deliver bad news to patients with the right amount of empathy. You remembered specifically how soothing you had found his voice and found it unsurprising that he would seem so good at delivering bad news. He could probably tell you he had stolen your identity and all money from your bank account and you would thank him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard you’re also heading to Pittsburgh?” He said to you and then turned to your newly minted nemesis, Martin, “I can drive stick, I could drive us both.”

Well, smooth voice or not, he could get fucked if he thought he was going to steal your rental.

“Excuse me,” You said, turning to the doctor who was way taller in person than you remembered him being on stage, “But you’re not taking my rental.”

“Ma’am, as I’ve said, it’s not your rental.”

“Martin,” You said, your voice high and strained as you whipped your head back towards him, “Could you mind your own goddamn business, please?”

“I— Sorry—“ Doctor Soothing Voice interjected again, “I just, I heard you were going to Pittsburgh and it’s the last rental—“

“So you thought you’d steal it from me?”

He laughed and scratched the back of his head, “No, I thought we could split it.”

Ordinarily, you may have been more polite. You had really enjoyed his talk. But you were very angry and your ankle was throbbing from when you had broken your heel. You wanted a peaceful drive by yourself.

“I don’t share cars with strange men, that’s how you end up on Dateline.”

He nodded, “Yeah, fair enough. What if we grab a coffee first?” He turned to Martin and slid a fifty dollar bill across the counter, “You’ll hold the car for us?”

You watched as Martin pocketed the fifty, nodding politely at Doctor Soothing Voice and you glared at him, upper lip beginning to turn up in disgust. You could already be on the road by now if it wasn’t for this sexist pig who thought women couldn’t drive stick.

“If you keep staring at him like that,” Doctor Soothing Voice whispered from over your shoulder, “You might actually end up on Dateline when they find his body.”

Accepting defeat, you sighed. Grabbing your bags, you began walking away from the counter.

“Have a beautiful day, ma’am.” Martin said as you walked by.

You gave a short laugh and started to turn back around, “Oh, you son of a—“

“Nope.” Doctor Soothing Voice gently took your shoulders and turned you back in the direction of the door, “Just keep walking.”

Once outside in the oppressive humidity, you shook his hands off you, “You know, I could have handled that myself.”

He nodded, smiling, “I have no doubts on that front.” He gestured down to your heel-less boot, “What happened to your boot, you get in a brawl with a condescending horse?”

You snorted, “A doctor and funny. Though, I guess unsurprising since you work in an ER. If anyone’s gonna be funny it’s emergency medicine doctors. How else do we cope with the horrors?” He frowned at you in silent question, “Oh. Sorry. I should have said, I was at the conference, I saw your talk. Though your name is slipping my mind at the moment.”

He raised his eyebrows and you saw the way his eyes traveled down your legs and back up again, “You were… Here for the conference?”

“What, so, because I wore cowboy boots and booty shorts to the airport you think they’re gonna take my medical license away?”

He laughed, “You’re right, I apologize. Of course you can still practice medicine in booty shorts.” He held out a hand for you to shake, “I’m Michael. Robinavitch. You could also just call me Robby, if you want, that’s what I go by in the ER.”

You shook his hand and gave him your name, “I’m an R3, I work at UPMC Presbyterian.”

“Huh, what are the odds?” He ran a hand through his hair, “So you knew who I was and still refuse to get in a car with me?”

You started rolling your suitcase towards the Dunkin’ across the street, hobbling as you went, “Just because you’re a good doctor doesn’t mean you’re not also a deviant. People are layered and nuanced. And sick.”

His mouth was twitching towards a smirk again as he followed after you. Something about you was very intriguing to him. “Nuanced like how you’re an R3 wearing booty shorts and cowboy boots to the airport?”

“Yes, exactly.” You looked both ways at the crosswalk in front of the Dunkin’ before stepping into traffic, “Besides, I need an iced coffee if I’m about to endure fifteen plus hours in a car with a stranger.”

Robby continues to watch you from behind, eternally amused by your uneven gate, “Don’t you have other shoes?”

“Yes, well, I’ve hardly had the time to dig into my suitcase to find them now, have I?” You turned and walked backwards so you could look at him, “Do you criticize all your residents like this?”

He frowned, “That wasn’t a critique, you just look uncomfortable. Do you get this defensive with all your attendings?”

You turned away from him and he watched your shoulders heave with a sigh, “No. Believe it or not, I’m not normally like this. Must be something about you that gets under my skin.”

“Well,” He smirked and held the Dunkin’ door open for you, “You have about fifteen hours to figure out what it is.”

***

“When was the last time you drove stick?” Robby was holding the keys up just out of your reach. You knew he was trying to see if you would jump for them, but you would not be humiliated. You crossed your arms and glared at him instead.

In the last half hour you had changed your shoes and drank half your iced coffee while Robby filled out the rest of the paperwork for the car.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, more than ten years ago?”

He scoffed, “Okay, you’re definitely not driving then.”

“What, like you drive a stick super often?”

“Yes, actually, the car I own at home is a manual.”

You laughed, “Oh, okay. You’re one of those guys?”

He blinked at you, still smirking, “What does that mean? One of those guys?”

You walked around to the passenger side door, opening it, and standing on the step so you could look over the roof at him, “You know, one of those guys who only drives a manual and thinks they’re better than you for it. And like, probably owns a fucking motorcycle or something that he works on in his garage with his own two hands and talks about like it’s his child.”

You watched with glee as his face reddened, “Oh my God, you do have a motorcycle, don’t you? And a leather jacket?”

“Get in the car,” He said, still blushing as he opened the driver’s side door.

Very pleased with yourself, you ducked into the car.

***

“How’d you learn to drive stick?” He asked once they were on the road.

You were eating a donut with your feet propped up on the dash, the window open and blowing in your hair, “My dad taught me.”

He nodded, “Are the two of you close?”

“No,” You said, mouth full of donut, and then swallowed, “He was an alcoholic.”

“Oh,” Robby said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, he’s not dead, he’s just dead to me.” You turned to him and smirked as he was blushing again, “It’s okay, I haven’t spoken to him in almost ten years. I’ve moved on.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, “Sounds like that must’ve been… difficult.”

Your smile widened at his attempt to comfort you. Commiserate, even, “We are strangers in a car for fifteen hours together. We don’t have to do all this.”

He shrugged and turned to look at you briefly while stopped at a red light, “Isn’t this sorta the whole point of being alive though? Getting to know strangers?”

He had very intense, very warm, brown eyes. The kind of eyes that seemed to look right through you on first glance, that made you itch to break his stare. For just a moment, your smile slipped, and you tore your gaze from his to look out the windshield, “The light’s green.”

After a few moments of silence, you cleared your throat, “Seems like now’s a good time to mention that I am engaged, by the way. So if you were thinking about falling in love with me in the next fifteen hours, don’t.”

You heard him chuckle next to you, “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. You’re not my type.”

You choked on your iced coffee and turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What?” He laughed, “Are you shocked that the booty shorts didn’t work on me or something?”

You felt your face flush and you turned away from him, “No, I just… men don’t have a type.”

He scoffed, “What are you talking about?”

“Men will fuck any woman who shows even a little bit of interest in them. It’s why they’re incapable of being just friends with women.”

He raised his eyebrows, “You don’t think men and women can be just friends?”

“I don’t think straight men and straight women can be just friends because the man will always be secretly thinking about fucking her.” Robby was shaking his head, “What, you disagree?”

He laughed, “Yeah, of course. I promise I am not thinking about fucking you even a little bit.”

You smirked, “Okay. Well, I guess we can be friends then. At least until you prove me right.”

“Won’t happen.”

You grinned, “Friends forever, then.”

He laughed, “Yeah, sure. Friends forever.”

***

The sun was beginning to set when Robby pulled back on the highway after stopping for Wendy’s, french fry hanging from his mouth.

“I could drive, you know, for a little while.”

“S’okay,” Robby said, food in his mouth, “I like the driving. Prefer it, actually.”

You nodded, “Yeah, that tracks with the whole thing you got going on.”

He laughed and gave you a quick glance, “You are such a know-it-all, you know? Anyone ever told you that? What thing do I have going on?”

You tossed a chicken nugget in your mouth before answering, “I’m not a know-it-all, I'm just really good at reading people.” You swallowed, “You have control issues.”

He ran a hand over his face, slightly shaking his head, “And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

You shrugged, “It’s just sorta written all over you. The way you stepped in at the rental counter, the way you insist on driving, even in your talk at the conference you told a story when you were a resident where you ended up stealing a patient from another, more senior resident because you thought you knew best.”

He scoffed, “Yes, but I was right.”

“That time. I’m sure you’ve done that before and been wrong.” He’s quiet and when you look over at him, his jaw is clenched. Oh. You’ve pissed him off. “I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. We all have quirks—“

“Like you being an insufferable know-it-all?” He said sharply.

You went quiet. You weren’t offended, exactly, moreso caught off guard that you had triggered him so easily when it hadn’t been your intention.

“Sorry,” He said after a moment, sighing, “That was unnecessary.”

You nodded, “Let’s take a break from talking for a while.” You leaned forward to start fiddling with the radio before sitting back and humming along.

Robby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, but for the most part, the two of you sat in companionable silence for roughly a half hour.

Until Robby cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I know I have control issues. Guess it was frustrating hearing it from someone who doesn’t even really know me.”

You shrugged, “It’s okay. For what it’s worth I have been told I’m an insufferable know-it-all.”

He smirked, “And does your fiancé love that about you?”

You snorted, “No. There’s nothing a man hates more than a woman who thinks she knows more than him.”

The comment struck him as a little too honest. And he thought, perhaps, there was a note of hurt in your voice.

“How long have you been together?” He asked mildly.

You sighed and he saw you examine the ring on your finger out of the corner of his eye, “We dated for three years and got engaged about six months ago.”

He nodded, “You have a date in mind for the wedding?”

You became uncharacteristically quiet and he worried he had pushed too hard, but then, “No, um, we still can’t agree on a venue. And then we just decided maybe it would make more sense to wait until I finished my residency.”

“Oh,” He said, “Well, yeah, that seems reasonable.”

You cleared your throat, “What about you, Robby, you have anyone at home?”

It was not lost on him that you had redirected the conversation away from yourself, but that was fine. It wasn’t his business anyway.

“No,” He said, “No, it’s just been me for a while now.”

You nodded, “How’s that going for ya?”

He smirked, “No one to make a victim of with my control issues, so it’s alright.”

You smiled and then yawned, “Could you talk for a while?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, “About what?”

“Anything. Medical procedures. Hell, give me your talk again.” You yawned a second time, “Anyone ever told you you have a very calming voice?”

“Oh, so my talk put you to sleep?”

“No,” You settled back into the car seat, pulling the lever to recline it slightly and resting your head against the door, “Your talk was very good, actually. You just have a nice voice. It’s how I recognized you earlier. But now, yes, I would like you to put me to sleep if you don’t mind. I have a double tomorrow.”

Robby smirked and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes were already closed, head leaned against the window, arms crossed across your chest.

“Alright,” He said eventually, “If you insist.”

***

It took only about twenty minutes of him talking, redoing the talk he had done the day before, before he noticed you had drifted off. When he could safely get a look at you, he saw your mouth slightly agape and you were snoring softly. It shocked him how endearing he found it, how oddly comforting it was to drive with someone dozing off in the passenger seat.

You had entered your address into the GPS a couple of hours ago and with the street lights illuminating the inside of the car, he pulled up outside your apartment building.

He hated to wake you, you really did look so peaceful, the street lights giving your face an artificial glow.

He stared at you a beat too long before he reached a hand to your knee and gave it a light squeeze, “Hey, you’re home.”

You stirred, what sounded almost like a mewl crawled out your throat as you came to and Robby fought a smile. “Home?” You asked sleepily.

“Yes,” He leaned away from you, allowing you to wake fully, “You fell asleep.”

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked around, “Well,” You dragged your arm at the corner of your mouth, wiping away the drool that had collected there, “I think it’s safe to say you’re no deviant, Michael Robinavitch. Thank you for getting me home safely.”

He smirked and got out of the car to help you with your suitcase, “Anytime.”

Having all your things, you looked from your apartment building back to Robby, “So, we’re still friends?” You asked, smirking, calling everything back to your earlier conversation.

A slow smile made its way across his face. The answer was yes, but he was beginning to wonder if he had more than fifteen hours with you if the answer would eventually be no.

“Yes,” Was all he said, though. You were engaged. Someone else’s. “Friends forever, like I said.”

Your smile widened and you laughed, “Good, excellent. Maybe I’ll see you around then, Dr. Robby.”

He nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets, “I hope so.”

And then he watched, leaning against the car, as you made your way towards the apartment building. You didn’t look back at him. He waited until you were safely inside before climbing back into the car and pulling off the curb.

***

2018

Normally, you could only be found at a local bookstore, but every one you had checked as of late was missing the one book you wanted. So that was how you ended up at Barnes & Noble that day. You were crouched in front of the shelf, looking intently at the spines to locate the title you were looking for and so didn’t notice that someone was now standing next to you.

Successfully locating the novel, you pulled it from its shelf and rose to standing, beginning to read the blurb on the back cover.

Which was how you found yourself face to face with Michael Robinavitch after not seeing him for five years.

“Oh,” You said, “Hi.”

Quickly, you realized it was more than likely he had completely forgotten about you. It had been five years since you had shared that rental car up to Pittsburgh and you hadn’t seen him since. He hadn’t changed all that much, though his beard was a bit more unruly than you remembered.

But then, his face lit up in recognition, “Hi,” He said, seemingly shocked, but pleased to run into you, “I almost didn’t recognize you, your hair… it’s… different.”

You smirked, “Oh, you hate it.”

“No,” He said quickly, “No, I actually think it suits you more than the long hair.”

You smiled, “Nice save. Just as charming as I remembered.”

He shook his head, a flush working its way up his neck, “You still at Presby?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I’m an attending now, though.”

“Good, that’s good,” You noted the way his eyes fell to your left hand and you knew what he was looking for, “Did you get married, then? You said you were waiting to finish your residency.”

It was shocking to you that he remembered you had said that. At the same time, it sent an ache through you to think about that relationship.

“I did get married,” You said slowly, looking down at your empty ring finger, “We got divorced about a year ago.”

“Oh,” He sighed, “I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Instinctively, you placed a hand on his forearm, meant for reassurance. But his eyes stared down at your hand, and self consciously, you pulled away, “We probably shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place,” You shrugged, “Besides, relationships will probably always be doomed for me. Emergency medicine doctors suck at marriage.”

He barked a short laugh and shook his head, “You can’t think like that.”

“Hey, I’m just going by the empirical data,” You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him, “Are you… in a relationship? I didn’t see a ring.”

He gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m actually here with my girlfriend, Janey and her son, Jake. Wandered off by myself while they were looking for a book for him for school.”

Oh, it pissed you off the way your stomach sank. He had always said you weren’t his type anyway. He was probably actually telling the truth. It figured the only honest man you’d ever met wouldn’t be into you.

Granted, you didn’t really know Robby, only the version of him that lived in your head from that fifteen hour car ride that you revisited every so often. More so since your divorce finalized. But it was just loneliness, you assured yourself. You had created a version of him in your head that didn’t exist. The man you occasionally pined after was not in front of you, just someone who looked like him.

“That’s lovely, Robby. I’m happy for you.”

He laughed, “You just said ER doctors can’t keep a relationship.”

You shook your head, “Stupid and self deprecating. It’s just a coping mechanism. I’m sure you’re really great at it. Being a boyfriend.”

He scoffed and scratched the back of his head, “I don’t know about that, but I’m trying.” He nodded to the book in your hand, “What’s that?”

You flipped it in your hand so he could see the cover, My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Otessa Moshfegh.

“Uh, just a book I heard about online,” You shrugged.

“What’s it about?”

You shrugged again, smirking, “A woman who is so sick of everything she gets her psychiatrist to prescribe her enough pills to sleep through a whole year.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you. You had worked with many an ER physician in your career and while in med school. You knew what it looked like when someone was assessing you for injury.

“Should I be concerned?” He asked. His tone was casual, but his posture was anything but.

Your grin widened, “You should always be concerned about me.” You joked, but his frown deepened, “I’m fine, Robby. It’s just a book.”

It wasn’t totally true. You had sought the book out because you suspected you would relate to the protagonist. Maybe too much. But he was a stranger. He didn’t need to hear about your suicidal ideations.

“You still drive stick?” You asked, anxious to move the conversation away from yourself.

He laughed and shook his head, “No, I finally have an automatic like the rest of the population.”

You laughed, “Oh, no. Bummer. You’re just like the rest of us peasants now. Do you at least still have the motorcycle?”

“Sold it a couple years ago.”

You winced, “Man, you’ve really let yourself go.”

He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. You didn’t want to leave, but you felt the longer you stood here talking to him, it threatened to disprove the belief that he could not be as lovely as you made him out to be in your head.

“So,” You said finally and held your fist out to him, “Still friends?”

He gave you a lopsided grin and pressed his fist to yours, “Friends forever,” He repeated the words from five years ago and for a moment it felt as if no time had passed at all, “Like I said. Though I hope to see you again sooner than five years from now.”

“Yeah,” You said, “Me too.”

***

2023

Robby had zero desire to meet the new attending Gloria had hired. Whoever it was, they had been hired behind his back and with no warning to him until they were three days out from when they were supposed to start. If Gloria had hired someone behind his back, it had to mean that whoever it was was in her pocket. Or at the very least, Gloria thought that person was in her pocket. And that was enough for him to stay far away from whoever it was.

But what he hadn’t been expecting when Gloria came downstairs, new attending by her side as she gave a tour, was you.

He stopped short and stared dumbly as you and Gloria approached him. Unfortunately for him, he was unable to stop the stupid smile that spread across his face at the sight of you.

“Dr. Robinavitch.” You said, once you were close enough. Your smile was wide enough to mirror his, “It’s good to see you again.”

He laughed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Gloria frowned, looking back and forth between you two.

“Sort of.” You said, “We met at a conference ten years ago.”

Sort of was an accurate way to describe whatever this repeated crossing of paths seemed to be between the two of you.

“Oh.” Gloria seemed less than pleased at this revelation, “Lovely. Well, I’ll leave you in more capable hands then. Come find me if you need anything.” And then she was gone.

Robby shook his head at you, “I’ll ask again, what the hell are you doing here? Presby get too small for you?”

“Uh,” You shrugged, “I just… really needed a change.”

He smirked, “And… knowing I was here probably made it more enticing?”

You laughed, “You caught me. Thought it was finally time we became actual friends.”

Robby could not explain how pleased he was that you were here. It was stupid that he cared. He hadn’t seen you in five years. And before that brief exchange, he hadn’t seen you for five years before that. So really, he hadn’t seen you in ten years. And yet, he was traipsing you around, introducing you to everyone, laughing a little too loudly at your jokes, like he was a fucking teenager.

Until he was walking you home at the end of the day. Until you mentioned Dean.

“That’s great,” He said when you said it, that you were seeing someone, “So you think you’ve broken the ER doctor curse, then?”

You shrugged, smirking, “Probably not. But I really like him. It feels good, right now.”

“Good,” He said, “You deserve that.”

And he meant it. You had looked so sad the last time he’d seen you. And even before that, the first time you met, you had struck him as something of a wounded animal. Defending itself with jokes and pessimism. You deserved to be truly happy.

“And what about Janey, how is she?”

He sighed, “Um, we broke up shortly after the last time I saw you. It seems the curse of the ER doctors is still with me. But I still get to see Jake, her son, so I feel really lucky about that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s probably for the best,” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, “I’ve been a fucking wreck since covid anyway.”

You nodded, “Yeah. It’s been a rough couple of years.” The silence stretched between the two of you. Neither of you brave enough to break it with the horrors you experienced during the pandemic.

Finally, you cleared your throat, “Did you lose anyone?” You asked quietly.

He swallowed thickly, then nodded, “Our Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. Adamson. My mentor.”

He heard your sharp intake of breath next to him, “I heard about that. I didn’t realize you were close. I’m so sorry, Michael.”

Something about you using his first name undid him just a little and he had to focus very hard on his shoes and his steps to keep the emotion at bay.

“What about you?” He asked instead, “Who did you lose?”

Because you had to have lost someone. Almost everyone had. Especially if you worked in a hospital.

You sighed deeply, “Our charge nurse, Liz. She was like a mother to me. She’d been charge since I was a resident.”

“Is that why you left Presby?”

“I watched a lot of people I loved and deeply respected burn out and hospital admin did nothing about it. I know too many nurses and doctors both that decided to retire early or completely change careers.” You shrugged, “I don’t know. It felt like I was watching my entire department crash and burn.”

He shook his head, “It’s so fucked.”

“That we’re here and they’re not?” Finally, he met your gaze. Your eyes were warm and impossibly open as you looked at him. If he looked closely enough, he could see his own grief mirrored back at him. He gave you a slight nod.

“Yeah,” You sighed and looked up at the moon, “It is fucked.”

After a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence, you stopped in front of an apartment complex, “Well, this is me. Thank you for walking me home, though it was completely unnecessary.”

Robby shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, “Let me feel useful, will you?”

You laughed, “Alright. See you tomorrow, then, Dr. Robby.”

He watched you go inside and as he walked away from the building he found himself thinking that he wished you’d call him Michael again.

***

It went like that for weeks. Robby walked you home after every shift, though you insisted it was unnecessary. You talked about everything and nothing. The shift, the hard patients, the ones you lost. To books and music and film. To childhood stories and first loves. It was finally starting to feel like you knew each other, rather than just a projection of each other ten years ago that lived in your respective brains.

But it wasn’t long before he noticed the way you seemed to be shrinking every time he saw you. Your smile just a little less genuine, the spark in your eyes dimmed ever so slightly. And he was too afraid to ask you why.

Instead, Robby started showing up outside your building in the mornings, an iced coffee in hand for you.

A few weeks of watching the two of you walk into the ER together, all smiles and laughs, and Abbot couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“So,” He said as him and Robby were walking through the ER for handoffs, “You gonna tell me about your girlfriend or am I gonna have to torture it out of you?”

Robby gave him a quizzical look, “What are you on about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re just buying iced coffees every morning for anyone these days?”

Robby laughed, “Are you accusing me of being a harlot because I occasionally buy my colleague a coffee?”

“So she’s not your girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Okay. But you’re sleeping with her?”

Robby huffed and shook his head, “No. We’re just friends.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at Robby, “Friends who… Occasionally sleep together?”

“Okay,” Robby sighed, “We’re done with this conversation.”

Robby walked away and Jack scoffed, turning to Dana, “I’m not crazy, right? They’re definitely sleeping together.”

Dana rolled her eyes, “No, actually. She has a boyfriend.”

“Right,” Jack said emphatically, “And the boyfriend is Robby.”

Dana cracked a smirk, “No, you idiot. She’s seeing someone outside the hospital.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “You’re not kidding? With the way they look at each other?” Dana just continued smiling at him, “Alright, well, no one should be surprised if Robby walks in here one day with a black eye.”

“Who’s punching Robby?” You asked, approaching the hub, “What’d he do now? Is it Mohan? Because, I gotta tell ya, I’d pay to see that.”

Jack laughed, “Not Samira, your bo—“

Dana smacked Jack lightly in the stomach, cutting him off, “You eat anything today, kid? You look peaked.”

You frowned, “I just got here. Are you saying I look like shit?”

“There’s donuts in the lounge, sweetheart.”

“Well,” You pushed yourself off the hub, unable to turn down a donut, regardless of Dana’s implications, “Yeah, okay.” And disappeared towards the lounge.

Dana turned back to Jack, who was rubbing his stomach dramatically as if he’d actually been injured, “Could you not cause trouble on my shift? Go home.”

“Fine, fine,” Jack backed away, headed to the lockers, “But you know I’m right.”

Dana watched Robby as he tracked you with his eyes into the staff lounge, “Man, could you at least try to be less obvious?” She said under her breath, shaking her head.

***

The shift hadn’t been so terrible. You hadn’t lost anyone today and had only gotten yelled at by one patient, and she had been high out of her mind so you didn’t really count it. Still, you were in your head. Or, on your phone. Dean had been MIA for a couple of days now and you were supposed to meet him at his place after your shift, but he hadn’t answered any of your texts or calls.

He had been distant lately. This wasn’t the first time he had disappeared for days on end only to show up later and act like it wasn’t a big deal. You were growing tired of it, of the games. You were forty years old now, you thought once you were this old the men would quit playing games. I mean, fuck, he had you, so what was the vanishing act about? What was he trying to prove?

Grabbing your things from your locker and placing your headphones over your ears, you pressed play on your music and began the walk back to your apartment. You turned the music up loud enough to drown out the thoughts that tornado’d around in your head.

Loud enough that you didn’t hear the man who came up behind you and squeezed your shoulder.

You screamed and jumped back– Only to see it was Robby standing there, hands up as he backed away from you, concern all over his face.

“Fuck,” You swore and bent over your knees, trying to catch your breath after tearing off your headphones.

“Sorry,” Robby said softly, “Sorry, I thought you heard me, I’d been calling after you for a while.”

You straightened, “It’s okay.”

“You, um,” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, “You left without me. You usually wait.”

“Oh–I–Sorry–I–” You sighed, frustrated with your stammering, “I’ve been in my head all day, I just…” You sighed, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hey,” He lowered his head to force you to meet his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, “It’s okay. What’s going on with you?”

You hesitated and then looked away from him, starting to walk again. He fell into step beside you, patiently waiting.

“Would it be weird to talk about my dating life with you?”

He shook his head, “No. Why would it be weird?”

Right, because he wasn’t attracted to you even a little bit. As he was always so quick to remind you.

You liked being friends with Robby, but working in the same ER you could no longer deny that you found him very sexy. Especially when he caught a rare diagnosis. Or he very calmly and gently explained a procedure to a resident while alarms were beeping around them and nurses were shouting out vitals.

Even just watching the way he rubbed hand sanitizer into his hands between patients had you imagining his hands in… very inappropriate situations.

And all the while you had to remember that he was not, and would never be, into you like that. And also, you had a boyfriend. A very sexy boyfriend in his own right, though my God, could he answer the fucking phone?

“No reason,” You sighed, “I don’t know, um, Dean’s just been a bit distant lately. He hasn’t answered my calls or texts in a couple of days and we’re supposed to meet up today.”

He nodded, “And you’re thinking…?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. He’ll probably break up with me soon. Or just ghost me. That’s what they usually do.”

He frowned, “This happens to you often?”

You smirked, “I know. Hard to believe with how charming and likable I am that I can’t keep a man.”

Robby didn’t laugh, though, just kept walking and silently staring ahead.

You let the silence stretch and fold between you, Robby clearly holding something back, but refusing to acknowledge it.

“You got something to say?” You said, more casually than you felt.

Robby clenched his jaw and let another few moments of silence pass, “No.”

You gave a short laugh, “Okay.” You said, stretching out the word, “I mean, you can say it, whatever it is. We’re all friends here.”

He shook his head, “I just wonder why you keep choosing men who clearly don’t respect you or even like you very much.”

His words stunned you to a stop. He kept walking for a few steps before realizing you stopped and he turned back to face you.

At the look of surprise, and even hurt on your face, he sighed, “Look, I… I didn’t mean that to come out so harsh, I just don’t understand it. I mean, it was clear even ten years ago from what you said about your ex husband that he didn’t give you what you needed. And now you’re with this loser who can’t even be bothered to answer a text.” He ran a hand over his face, “You could probably have any guy you wanted in all of Pittsburgh, but instead you seem to purposely pick men that disappoint you.”

You scoffed and started walking again, “Okay, so it’s my fault that men treat me like shit?”

“Really?” He fell into step beside you again, “That’s what you’re gonna take from what I said?”

“How else am I supposed to take that?”

He scoffed and shook his head, “I just wish you’d see that you deserve better.”

You laughed and slowed to a stop, “Robby, I’m fucking forty years old. I’m divorced. I’m obsessed with my work. I’m an insufferable know-it-all, as you know. I’m not easy to love. I don’t exactly have men breaking down my door to be with me, alright? Dean is… Not perfect. But he’s all I have.” He stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down at his feet, “Nothing. Nothing. I’m sorry for what I said… It’s not my business.”

You bit your lip, fighting with the tears that seemed to threaten to overflow. And maybe Robby would think that the tears were just because he crossed a line, but it was more than that. There was something so fucking hurtful about this wonderful man in front of you, who had been so clear that he did not want you, making a whole speech about how you deserved better. Had he not ever once considered that good, decent men just did not love you and never had? Going all the way back to your father who would have done anything for a bottle of scotch but couldn’t remember to pick you up from school?

“Hey,” He said gently, stepping closer to you when he noticed your watery eyes, “I’m sorry, okay?”

He dropped his backpack to the ground and pulled you into his arms, “I’m sorry,” He repeated into your hair, arms tightening around you and anchoring you to his chest. He smelt of clean laundry and fresh pine deodorant. You closed your eyes and for a moment, allowed yourself to be comforted. To imagine what it would be like to be loved by someone like him.

Just for a moment.

***

You sat at your kitchen table, leg bouncing, fingernail gnawed between your teeth as you stared at your phone. It was nearly 9PM and still nothing from Dean.

This was ridiculous. You felt like a teenager waiting by the phone all night. You were just going to show up at his apartment, as planned. Maybe his phone was broken. Maybe a family emergency had come up.

But your earlier conversation with Robby was still playing in the back of your mind. Maybe you should just swear off men for good. Get a cat and dedicate yourself entirely to work.

Sighing, you stood and grabbed your car keys from the hook by the door.

***

You had knocked on his apartment door about ten minutes ago, giving up after a couple of tries. You leaned against the wall beside his door, trying yet again to call him, but it was sent to voicemail. You swore as you hung up, and as you did, the elevator at the end of the hall dinged and you heard the doors sliding open.

A feminine laugh floated down the hallway and you ignored it, still looking at your phone, until the laugh was replaced by silence. No walking. No voices.

You looked up and saw Dean, arms wrapped around a blonde that was easily at least a decade younger than you, probably more, mouth gaped open as he stared at you, “What’re you doing here?” He asked eventually.

What were you doing here? Chasing after a man that didn’t want you, just like Robby said. The tears that burned your eyes were not tears of sadness, but anger and humiliation. You sighed and pushed yourself off the wall, “Don’t call me. I’ll drop off your things next week.”

“Baby–”

“Oh, and just a word of warning,” You turned to the blonde, “He’s terrible at eating pussy.” You said, voice full of venom.

And then you ducked into the stairwell.

***

You had made it back to your apartment building and after turning the ignition off in your car, had begun uncontrollably sobbing, head resting against the steering wheel.

When the crying began to slow to just hiccups, you took out your phone and dialed Robby.

He answered on the second ring, because he was reliable. Unlike any of the men you’d ever been with.

“Hey,” You sniffled, “You were right about Dean. He doesn’t like me… or respect me.”

You heard him breathe for a moment in the silence as he processed what you had said, “Are you crying?” He asked finally.

You laughed and wiped your nose on your sleeve, “Yeah, I know, it’s fucking pathetic. It’s just so fucking typical that he would cheat on me with some hot blonde in her twenties and just, like, think I would never find out! He didn’t even try to hide it. Knew we had plans tonight, and– Or, I don’t know, maybe the plans were so insignificant to him he really forgot. I guess on top of being really goddamn annoying I’m also extremely forgettable.” You lightly banged your forehead against the steering wheel.

“You’re not annoying or forgettable.” He said gently, almost sweetly.

“You’re just saying that because I’m crying and you have to be nice to me.”

You thought you heard a quiet laugh, “I remembered you after two brief encounters ten years ago. Thought about you quite often after both run ins, in fact. I would say that makes you pretty memorable.”

Robby was many things, but you knew him to always, always be honest. And so his words sprung new tears from your eyes. What were you going to do when some perfect woman inevitably fell in love with him and he wouldn’t answer calls like these late at night? When you were spiraling and a fucking mess?

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t dispute the fact that I’m annoying.”

Another short laugh, “You are passionate and assertive and intuitive and very funny. None of which I find annoying.”

Your chest felt warm at his praise, “You said I was an insufferable know-it-all the first time we met.”

He sighed, “I was stupid then. Besides, I didn’t know then that you used your teasing as a shield to keep the attention off yourself.”

His revelation shocked you into silence and for a moment you just sat there, listening to his breathing. It was scary to be known and your instinct was to lash out, but you instead counted your breaths.

“Are you home?” He asked finally.

“I’m in my car, parked outside my complex.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You frowned, “What? What do you mean?”

“I started walking over when I heard you crying. Sorry, is that not okay? Should I turn around?”

“No,” You said quickly, too quickly, and you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, “No, I mean, you should come. I would… I would like it if you were here.”

“Okay,” He said softly, “I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Okay.” You murmured and waited until the line cut out before you lowered the phone from your ear.

True to his word, Robby strolled into the parking lot just a few minutes later. When he saw you get out of your car and lock it behind you, he quickened his pace until he was in front of you, pulling you into his arms. Much like he had earlier that same day.

And again, you allowed yourself to be coddled. Allowed it when he kept an arm around your shoulders as he led you into your apartment building. Ignored the flutter in your stomach when he pressed a kiss to your hair and told you you deserved better.

A couple of hours later, you’re on the couch, both pleasantly tipsy from the bottle of wine you had opened and the tears had long since dried. Your feet were in his lap and while the two of you talked, his hand had been unconsciously running up and down your leg.

He hadn’t seemed to notice, but you had.

“Did you say anything to him? When you left?”

You shrugged, “I told him I’d drop off his things.” Then you laughed, “I might have said something sort of awful to the girl though.”

He smirked, “What’d you say?”

You hesitated only a moment, flush building up your neck as you stared at the wine glass in your hand, “I told her that he was terrible at eating pussy.”

There’s a second of silence and then Robby bursts out laughing, “Is it true?”

You chuckled, still looking down at your wine glass, for some reason unable to look at him when talking about this, “Yes. He never made me come.”

Robby’s laughter died out and the hand on your leg stilled, “Never? Not even once?” You shook your head slowly, “How long were you dating?”

“About six months.”

Robby let out a low whistle, “Fuck.”

You nodded, “You’d be shocked the number of grown men who are clueless when it comes to knowing their way around…” You trailed off and cleared your throat, “Anyway, most men are pretty bad at it, in my experience, if they even like it.”

He exhaled heavily through his nose, “I just think maybe you have terrible taste in men.”

This again. You rolled your eyes, “As I said, the pickings are slim. Beggars can’t be choosers. Who would you have me sleep with, hm?”

When you looked up at him he was looking at you intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you would say hungrily. But just as soon as you were starting to wonder what it was he was thinking, the expression was gone and he stood from the couch, tossing your legs to the side.

“I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

You tried not to seem too disappointed, “Right. Of course.”

You stood and led him to the door, “Thank you for coming,” You said as you opened the door, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

You smiled and nodded, “That’s what friends are for, right?” You said, self deprecatingly. You hadn’t meant for it to sound sarcastic, but you knew he must have heard it anyway.

He nodded and looked anywhere but at you. He was acting very strange. “Right, yeah. Friends.”

You frowned, “Michael,” You said finally and his eyes snapped to yours, “Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

He shook his head and then his eyes fell to your mouth, “No,” He said, gaze never straying from your lips, “I’m just tired.” He insisted.

“Okay,” You said slowly. He was drunk. Whatever was going on in his head right now meant nothing. Maybe he was staring at your mouth or maybe you had something in your teeth.

“Still friends?” You asked softly.

That joke. That stupid fucking decade old joke, still a shared line between the two of you, coiling ever tighter as time went on. And now it was fraying.

His eyes met yours and this time there was no mistaking the hunger in his gaze. You had mere moments to process the fact that Robby was looking at you with raw, unadulterated desire before his hands had grabbed your face and his mouth crashed into yours.

You gasped in surprise, but he was undeterred, his mouth hurriedly exploring yours as he moved you out of the threshold of the door and kicked it shut behind him. Beneath your initial shock, your body reacted. Robby was a man you had pined for on and off for more than a decade, and he was kissing you like you were a fresh stream and he hadn’t had water for so long that he couldn’t remember what it even tasted like. It took little more for the arousal to begin pooling in your stomach, for the ache between your legs to grow and expand.

But then, he licked into your mouth at the same time he lightly pushed you down on the couch and you could feel the way you dripped into your panties.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” He said breathlessly as he crawled over you.

You could only shake your head, watching him above you like this. You were so full of want, you leaned up to kiss him again–

But he pulled back.

“I need to hear you say it.” He said, his voice husky.

You swallowed, “Don’t stop.” You breathed.

It was enough. His mouth latched back onto yours, tongue making dizzying strokes against your own, and you were embarrassed when a whine escaped you. You tried pulling him by the shirt, needing him closer. At the same time, you wiggled your hips down until you felt yourself press against the knee he had slotted between your legs, seeking pressure and friction for your throbbing center.

But Robby pulled away, “I don’t think so.” He said, “Think I want to show you how a real man eats a meal.”

Were you dreaming? You felt like you were dreaming. Because there was no fucking way Michael Robinavitch was towering over you, obvious erection growing in his pants as he tugged your ankle to bring you to the edge of the couch. There was no goddamn way he was lowering himself to his knees in front of you, eyes never leaving yours.

But he was. And he tugged your shorts down over your knees. When you went to wiggle out of your panties, he stopped you, “Not yet.”

Slowly, he kissed and sucked his way from the side of your knee, up your inner thigh, until you were impatiently wriggling beneath his mouth. He said nothing, only wrapped an arm around one of your thighs to still you.

Finally, he turned his attention to your clothed pussy, running a finger down the damp spot at your center and sighing when your back arched.

“You’re so easy to rile,” He murmured, “It’s a mystery he couldn’t make you finish. It’ll probably only take me a couple minutes. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The pet name went straight to your head, blood pounding in your ears. Your only response was a breathy sigh as he began delicately kissing you over your underwear. He began to apply a bit more pressure and you could feel his hot breath through the flimsy fabric.

When you felt his tongue, still over that fucking fabric, you moaned loudly, frustrated, “Michael.”

You felt the smug fucker smile against you before his fingers slipped under the cloth at your hips, pulling down. You lifted your hips eagerly to allow him to pull them off you.

Mercifully, he didn’t tease you any longer, his mouth was back on you immediately. If you were eager, he was desperate now, shoving his tongue deep in you and lapping up your juices. His hands held your thighs down so firmly when you squirmed, you thought he’d probably leave bruises.

He moved his mouth up to your swollen clit, humming against it as he pushed a finger inside you. You were so tight around his fingers, getting wetter and tighter as you approached your climax. With every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his finger, you felt yourself lose a little more control.

When he added a finger you thought maybe your brain was so overwhelmed with the pleasure it had forgotten to trigger your lungs to breathe. But a moment later, he sucked on your clit just hard enough to send you toppling over the edge and you were gasping for air.

When he felt your orgasm rip through you, he released your hips, finally allowing you to grind against his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you while you tugged him by the hair closer to you, impossibly closer.

When it was over, he pulled away from you, rising up to kiss your mouth, the taste of you still on his tongue. He kissed his way up your jawline to your ear.

“How was that?” He murmured against the shell of your ear.

You were still seeing stars from the intensity of your orgasm, “How do you think?” You gasped.

You felt him laugh against your neck and then his body pulled away from yours. You mourned the loss immediately, but clenched your fists at your sides to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Could I use your bathroom to clean up?” He asked.

You frowned and looked to his pants, still clearly tented from his erection, “It’s at the end of the hall, but let me—“

When you reached out to palm him over his pants, he jerked away. Rejection coursed through your veins and instantly, you knew you were flushed with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” He said and smiled at you, but it seemed strained, “I just wanted to make you feel good. I’ll be right back.”

He turned and walked towards the bathroom without waiting for your reply.

You were still half naked on the couch, feeling confused and hurt as the high of your orgasm left you. What kind of guy made you come like that on the first try and then didn’t want you to touch his cock? What sort of fucked up point had he been trying to make?

***

Robby splashed water on his face, washing the remnants of you from his mouth and beard, and then looked at himself in the mirror.

Oh, you’ve done it now, man. He thought, You’ve absolutely fucked it.

He’d ruined everything. One brief lapse of self control and their entire friendship was now set to implode.

But you had looked so goddamn sad on that couch and when he heard that loser not only had cheated on you, but couldn’t even make you come, it had flipped some primal, animalistic switch in his brain.

Until all he could think about was you coming undone under his mouth while you moaned his name.

Still friends? You had asked at the door and he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t say the practiced words and finish the damn joke like he always did. Friends didn’t wonder what the other’s pussy tasted like or what they sounded like when they came.

What was an orgasm between friends? Maybe he could still salvage it. Maybe they could just pretend it never happened.

He wasn’t prepared to lose you, not when you had just showed up at PTMC after he had spent years thinking about you. Wondering how you were doing. If you were still here or if you had moved away. If someone was finally loving you how you deserved.

The two of you were drunk. It hadn’t meant anything. You would regret it in the morning and he would graciously act like he didn’t know what you were talking about. He’d give you a few days of space and then he’d show up again with an iced coffee and walk you to the hospital. And everything would go back to normal.

It had to. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

***

Robby had left in a rush that night after he came out of the bathroom, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead as he did.

You were left feeling confused and hurt, that he had rushed out like that after the way he kissed you and touched you. Tasted you like you were a fine wine to be savored. Then turned around and acted like nothing happened. Like he had just done you a favor.

Your thumb hovered over his contact on your phone for a couple days after. You both had four days in a row off of work, a rare blessing. You typed and deleted many texts. And then there was a knock at your door.

Fuck, was he here? Maybe to apologize, to explain why he ran out like that. He was scared, he wanted you, he was in love with you. You felt like a lovesick teen for hoping.

More likely, he would say it was a mistake and it wouldn’t happen again. And you would accept it even if it broke your heart because you had no other choice. You could either have this much of him or none at all.

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Robby standing in the hallway with flowers and coffee.

It was—

“Dean?”

***

Robby was pacing outside your apartment building with your iced coffee in hand. It had been four days since he last saw you. Four days of replaying that night in his head, getting off to the thought of how you felt and tasted. The way you sounded so desperate for him when you moaned his name.

But that was behind him now, he could forget about it if it meant keeping your friendship.

He froze when he heard your building door open and turned to look— It was you.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, staring at your phone and headphones over your ears. He watched as your lips parted slightly in concentration, tongue darting out to wet them.

He swallowed and averted his eyes. It turned out it wouldn’t be so easy to pretend like nothing had happened.

He’d keep trying though.

Finally, you looked up and you gave him a confused look as you pushed your headphones off, “Hi,” You said slowly.

He smiled and held out your coffee. Still frowning, you took it, “What are you doing here?” You asked softly as the two of you began the walk to the hospital.

“What do you mean?” He asked, staring ahead. He could feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his face, but he kept his focus ahead of him. It was all easier if he just didn’t look at you. “We do this every morning.”

“Right…” You said slowly and then scoffed when he didn’t say anything further, “Okay. Fine.”

“What do you mean, fine?”

“I mean if you want to act like everything’s fine, like you didn’t get me off on my couch a few nights ago, then okay. I’ll do the same.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and kept looking ahead, “Okay. Great.” He could hear the irritation in your voice, but he ignored it, “How was the rest of your time off?”

He could feel you staring at him again, and then he thought he noticed you shake your head in his peripheral.

“It was fine.” You said finally, then you cleared your throat, “Actually, Dean showed up with flowers a couple of days ago. Said it was a mistake and begged me to take him back.”

Robby gave a short laugh, “Would’ve paid to see the look on his face when you told him to fuck off.”

You didn’t laugh with him. Didn’t say anything at all, in fact, and he felt his stomach twist with dread, “You did tell him to fuck off, didn’t you?” He asked quietly.

Still, you said nothing. Finally, he turned to look at you, but you were staring intently ahead. The tips of your ears red with what he assumed was embarrassment. Perhaps shame.

He scoffed, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The last thing I need right now is you on your high horse–”

“Do you have no goddamn self respect, is that it?” He spat, voice rising, “You chase after men who hate you because you hate yourself?”

You stopped walking then, your whole face flushed with either anger or embarrassment, maybe both.

“You have no fucking right to talk about the men I’ve been with when you behaved just like all the rest the other night!”

“Me?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “What are you even talking about?”

“You fucking ran out of my apartment, leaving me half fucked, and acted like it was no big deal. Don’t call. Don’t text. Then you show up at my apartment with a fucking coffee like nothing happened! Like it meant nothing!” Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, “At least with Dean I know what I’m getting, with you… it’s… it’s hot and cold and I never know what the fuck you’re thinking or what you want–”

“I want to be friends.” He said quickly, “I want to be your friend, I want you to be happy.”

You nodded and looked up towards the trees, willing the tears back into your eyes, “Right. Friends. Friends don’t lead each other on.” You said, lip curled, and then you continued your walk to the hospital.

He stared after you, stunned, and then jogged to catch up to you, “I told you from the beginning you weren’t my type–”

You were drowning. It would have been kinder for him to have tied a weight to your foot and shoved you in the river.

You turned and placed your empty hand on his chest and shoved, “Fuck. You.” He was much larger than you and you had a coffee in your other hand so he remained sturdy, though he fell back a step. Tears were streaming down your cheeks now, “We’re not fucking friends. We’re not anything.” You shoved the iced coffee back into his hand, “Just leave me alone, okay?”

Robby stared after you as you stormed off, jaw clenched and melted iced coffee in his hand.

***

Jack and Dana watched as you stormed into the ER, face red and splotchy. Your cheeks shined with tears under the fluorescent glow of the lights above. Robby strode in only moments later, a melted iced coffee in his hand that he tossed in the trash by the entrance as he walked over to the hub.

You were rushing around after stopping at the lockers, draping a stethoscope around your neck as you ambled right into Robby’s path, causing the both of you to stop short to avoid a collision. Jack and Dana watched as the two of you stared each other down for a few seconds, tension palpable, before you stormed off again. Robby stared after you for a moment before running a hand down his face.

Jack and Dana exchanged a look before Jack stepped to Robby and clapped a hand on his back, “Hey man, why don’t we get some air?”

Robby sighed, “I just got here, Jack.”

“And yet you already look like you’ve been through the ringer, so humor me.” He said and steered the other man by the shoulders to the stairs.

Once on the roof, Robby leaned over the railing and Jack joined him, his eyes roving over Robby, “What happened?”

Robby sighed, “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, man, what’s going on with you and Y/N? You ran after her at the end of the last shift. Now you walk in separately and if looks could kill, my friend, you’d be six feet under right now.”

He shrugged, “I fucked up. Crossed a line I shouldn’t have. I hurt her without meaning to. Now she wants nothing to do with me.” He looked at Jack and smirked, “That’s it.”

“So what’re you gonna do about it?” Jack asked, turning his attention back to the Pittsburgh skyline.

He laughed, “Nothing. She told me to leave her alone, so that's what I’ll do.”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t buy it.” Robby looked at him incredulously. “The two of you have been drawn to each other like magnets over the last, what, ten years? And you’re just gonna let her walk away?”

Robby smirked, “I already told you, it’s not like that with her. We’re just friends.”

“What line did you cross, then, huh?” Robby didn’t answer, jaw clenched as he avoided Jack’s stare, “I’ve seen the way you look at her, man,” Jack shook his head, “It’s not friendly.”

Robby was terrified that Jack may be right. That all this time he had been convincing himself you were just a friend, he had been falling for you instead. He knew the way the staff talked, not just Jack. Again and again, he dismissed them as rumors, a bit of lightness to keep everyone’s head above water. But what if there had been truth to it?

He had been so scared of losing your friendship he didn’t stop to think that the reason he was so scared was because maybe he cared for you more than just as a friend.

And if that was true, he had wasted so much time and energy fighting against it only to lose the war anyway.

Robby rubbed at his beard and shook his head, “Well, it really doesn’t matter because I fucked it, so.” He pushed himself off the railing and started walking towards the door that led back to the Pitt, “I should get back down there. Go home.”

Alone on the roof, Jack heaved a sigh, “I should really be getting paid extra for these free therapy sessions.” He murmured to himself before he walked back to the door.

***

For weeks, Robby tortured himself by reliving your last conversation in his head. The realization that you were hurting and he was the reason, it made him feel sick at times. In addition to that, after his conversation with Jack on the roof, he realized too late that he was in love with you. He thought about telling you many times, but it was so clear you wanted nothing to do with him, he thought it would probably just hurt you more.

The one time he had followed you out of the ER at the end of the shift intent on finally telling you, he had walked out to see your arms twined around Dean’s neck, your mouth smiling into his. His stomach had twisted and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. It was wrong, it felt all wrong seeing you wrapped around him like that. He knew he had fucked up his chance with you, but it hurt worse that his fuck up had pushed you back into Dean’s arms.

He did his best to stay out of your way, but it was difficult. Since you were an attending yourself, he didn’t need to be involved in all of your cases, but there were times when you begrudgingly asked for a consult. Or a really rough trauma came in and it was all hands on deck.

It was uncomfortable for everyone on those cases. The unresolved tension between you two acted like a whirlpool, extending out and dragging unwilling participants to the center. You would bicker over treatment plans or silently glare at each other over patients.

Once, when he had walked in to you performing a thoracostomy with a warm water lavage, he thought he might fire you from how frustrated he was.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hypothermic drowning victim, troponin levels suggested there was a cardiac event, I’m clearing the clots and rewarming with warm saline.” You said calmly without looking up from the patient.

“Did you consult cardio?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“You could have at least fucking called me.”

You looked up at that, and then back down, “He’s back to sinus and at normal temp.” You said and began to deglove, “I’m not going to apologize for saving a patient.”

He followed after you as you walked back to central, “You and I both know you’re supposed to call in your chief attending for approval whenever you want to do some crazy procedure that is outside the standard of care–”

“It wasn’t outside of the standard–”

“You’re not a fucking cardio attending,” He said, louder than he meant to. Others turned to stare at the two of you, “Look,” He said, lowering his voice, “You can hate me all you like, but we have to work together when we’re here. And that means,” You had rolled your eyes here and he had to move his head to force eye contact with you, “That you consult me before you do anything that is considered outside the norm. Got it?”

You sighed, “Loud and clear, boss. Can I go now?”

He stared at you a moment longer and his eyes fell to your mouth. He hadn’t meant to stare, to recall the way your mouth felt against his or how soft and pliant your lower lip was when he pulled at it with his teeth, but that’s what he found himself doing.

And you noticed. He watched as your frown deepened and you turned, walking away before he could say anything else.

“Fuck,” He murmured to himself and laced his hands behind his neck.

“You okay, Cap?” Dana asked as Robby trudged over to the hub, leaning over on his forearms.

“Just peachy.” He sighed.

“You coming out tonight? It’s Princess’s birthday. Everyone’s going to Monterey’s.”

“Everyone?”

Dana smirked knowingly, “Yes, I heard she’ll be there too.”

He shook his head slowly, “Then, no. I will not be going.”

She sighed, “The two of you cannot keep going like this. If for no other reason than it’s starting to affect your work. Time to put your big boy pants on and face… whatever the fuck is going on with you.”

“What do you want me to do, huh? She wants nothing to do with me. Should I lock us in a room together and force her to talk to me?”

Dana shrugged, “Maybe, if you think that’ll work.” Robby shook his head and looked away, “Come out tonight.” Dana said, “There’s nothing a drink or two can’t fix.”

***

It was 8:30 when you walked into Monterey's, having gone home to change. You hated going out in scrubs, it felt wrong somehow.

You spotted Robby almost immediately where he stood near Dana, but pretended you hadn’t noticed him as you headed to the bar.

It didn’t seem to matter though, because he was next to you two minutes later as you waited for the bartender to return with your drink.

“Could we talk?” He asked.

Your eyes flitted up to his and you found yourself momentarily distracted by how beautiful he was. The freckles, the crinkles at his eyes. You had had to work very hard not to notice the last few weeks.

You turned back to the bar, “I’m waiting for my drink.”

“I can wait.” He said immediately.

You drummed your fingers against the bar top, “If this is about earlier–”

“It’s not about work.”

You swallowed, “Well, what, then?”

He didn’t say anything, eyes following the bartender as he made your drink. Once the drink was in your hand, he began walking, gesturing for you to follow as he led you outside.

It was quiet out here. The Sun just barely peeking over the skyline, a faint orange glow illuminating everything. You felt claustrophobic as he led you down an alley on the side of the building. It had felt like forever since the last time you’d been alone together.

He came to a stop and turned to you, clearing his throat, “How are you?” He asked softly.

You sighed, “Robby, I don’t–This is unnecessary–”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I think about it every day. But I can’t–”

“So you regret it then? What we did?” Your voice broke as you said it. There were so many layers to how hurt you still felt after everything with Robby. It was difficult to untangle most of the time, so you had just buried it. But standing here with him so close, you could feel it all clawing to the surface, demanding your attention.

“No.” He said firmly, “No, I don’t. I regret the way I handled it.”

You took a sip of your drink and looked away from him, “I see. So you just wish you had maybe let me down easier, then? Is that it?”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This isn’t coming out right. I’m so fucking bad at this.”

You scoffed, “I’m just gonna go back inside, okay? We’re good, I promise, I will make sure to consult you–”

“I love you.” He blurted out, and you froze. “I’m in love with you. I’ve probably loved you a little bit from the moment I met you.”

For a second you just stared at him, the only sound was the sound of each other’s breathing.

Then, your eyes watered and you inhaled a shaky breath, “Don’t do this.” It came out breathless, a desperate plea, “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” He reached out, grabbing your free hand to keep you from running.

You were shaking your head, turning to leave, then turning back when his hand tightened around yours, “You’re just lonely, you don’t want me.”

He tugged you by the hand until you were just inches from him, “I do,” He said nodding, “I love you. And I can say it as many times as you need me to to believe it.”

You swallowed, “You said just a few weeks ago that I wasn’t your type and you’ve been saying it for ten years.”

He shook his head, eyes roving over your face until they settled on your mouth, “We were both there the night I kissed you. Do you really believe that?”

Not really, no. You could still feel the urgency of his tongue in your mouth. You could still hear his reverent sighs at the sight of you naked. Still, he had pushed you away, left you alone and rejected.

Your chin wobbled, “Michael.”

His name came out in a broken plea. You weren’t sure what exactly you were begging for. For him not to mean it or for him to mean it.

He laced his free hand through the hair at the back of your neck, “Don’t be scared, okay? I’ve got you this time. I promise. I was stupid, I was so afraid of losing you as a friend I ignored the way I really felt.”

You rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes. You wanted to believe him, but you were afraid, too. Afraid he’d change his mind, like all the rest. Leave you more broken than when he found you.

“I love you,” He whispered and pulled back to kiss your forehead, “I love you,” He repeated, pressing a kiss to your cheek. And he went on like that, kissing your face all over as he repeated those three words and you felt like your chest was being cracked open. If he reached in to pull your heart out, to hold it, still beating in his hand, you’d probably let him take it. You’d let him do anything he wanted if you could just stay in this moment.

Until you couldn’t take it anymore and you caught his mouth with yours. He pushed you into the brick wall behind you, careful to place his hand between your head and the hard stone. The single act of tenderness had tears springing to your eyes again and you felt so fucking pathetic that you kissed him harder, desperate to drown out the feeling.

He moaned when you pulled gently at his lip with your teeth and the sound had the muscles coiling low in your belly, heat accumulating with every new taste and touch and sound.

Mouth still on yours, he frantically unbuttoned your jeans and shoved his hand down between your legs. You whimpered when he dipped a finger just barely into your entrance, his sigh in your ear sounded like relief. Like he had been dying to touch you like this for weeks and weeks, and finally he was saved.

When he pushed his finger fully inside you, you cried out and he covered your mouth with his own to stifle it.

“Robby,” You sighed as he stroked your walls, thumb coming up to rub dizzying circles around your clit, “We… We shouldn’t… I haven’t—I’m still with De—“

“I know you were not about to say another man’s name when I'm knuckle deep inside you, right, sweetheart? You wouldn’t do that, would you?” He added a finger and you would’ve folded if it weren’t for his body pressed to yours, keeping you steady, “You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You gonna come nice and quiet in my hand so no one hears you?”

God, no one else had this effect on you. No one else could talk to you like this, make you soft and malleable like warm putty. It drove you insane. He drove you to the fucking brink and you knew you would still come back and beg for more. He made you insatiable.

When you didn’t immediately answer him, his hand stilled and you whined, shimmying your hips against his hand.

“You can be quiet, can’t you?” He dragged his teeth down the column of your throat, sending chills down your spine.

“Yes.” You sighed, “Whatever you want.”

You felt his smirk against your skin and his fingers started stroking you again. You had to stifle the moans that fought to climb up your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to climax.

“There you go,” He said, pressing tender kisses to the side of your face, “So close, I can feel you. Be a good girl and come for me, yeah?”

His praise sent shockwaves through your body and to quiet yourself and prevent yourself from crying out, you bit down on his shoulder.

“Did so good for me,” He murmured, pulling his hand out and re-buttoning your jeans for you as you fought the daze of your orgasm. He kissed your head and grabbed your hand, “Come on, follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my place.”

“Oh— What about Princess?”

“She’ll forgive us once the rumors spread about why we left together.”

You fought the smirk on your face, “Dean is expecting me later—“

Robby turned to look at you, “Fuck Dean, alright? Let him wait up for you and wonder where you are for once. It’s more than that jackass deserves.” He started tugging you by the hand again and you found you didn’t want to argue.

You knew it was wrong, to punish Dean the way he had hurt you, but in truth, you didn’t think he’d care much when you didn’t turn up tonight. You wouldn’t tell Robby this for fear he’d show up at Dean’s apartment intent on fist fighting him, but you knew he’d continued cheating on you the last few weeks.

It didn’t hurt as much as it had the first time you found out. Probably because you had been hung up on Robby.

You’d break it off with Dean tomorrow. Right now, you just wanted to let Robby have his way with you.

***

Finally seeing Robby naked for the first time felt as close to a religious experience as you thought you would ever experience. In his bed, you were kissing every freckle, every scar, every tattoo you could reach while your hand was between his legs, stroking his erection.

He looked wrecked and love drunk as you worked him. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you learned what touches had him moaning, which had him gasping for air, and which had his eyes rolling all the way back in his head.

It wasn’t long before he tore your hand off him and pinned it above your head, pushing his tip teasingly to your dripping core, “That’s enough of that, I think.” He said, broken voice betraying just how close to the edge you had brought him.

Quickly, you watched as he ripped open a condom and pulled it onto himself. Wasting no time, he gripped your hips and dragged you underneath him before pushing himself inside you. The stretch had you gasping, but he bent his forehead to yours, kissed you through it as he pushed into you. Every thrust was slow and achingly tender. His eyes rarely left yours, only to occasionally bury his face into your neck.

Anytime you suggested a different position, he shot you down, “No, no,” He’d repeat, your legs locked around his hips, “Just like this,” He’d pant, “Want you underneath me just like this.”

When he finished, you muffled his moans with your mouth, thrusting your hips up into his when the intensity of his orgasm had him unable to keep moving through the aftershocks.

Afterwards, you stared up at the ceiling fan, your head resting on his chest.

“I love you, by the way.” You murmured when you could feel yourself drifting into sleep, “Don’t know if I ever said.”

He kissed your hair and dusted his fingers over your shoulder, “You didn’t have to.”

***

2024

It was cool and cloudy in San Diego that morning. You fiddled with the ring on your finger as you stood backstage at the annual American Academy of Emergency Medicine conference.

Michael stood behind you, hands rubbing reassuring circles into your shoulders, “You’re gonna do so good, baby. Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried, I could do this talk in my sleep,” You smirked, “I’m just thinking about the first time I saw you here, when you did your talk.”

He laughed behind you, “Well, it wasn’t here.”

“You know what I mean.” You said and covered one of his hands with yours.

“Yeah,” He said, “If I had known my future wife was in the audience I would’ve picked a better shirt.”

Your grin spread across your face as you looked down at the engagement ring on your finger, “And I probably wouldn’t have worn booty shorts to the airport, but hindsight is 20/20.”

He hummed and then your name was being announced, a brief intro given, and then Michael kissed you quickly before gently pushing you towards the stage.

Later, in your hotel room, the both of you were drunk and sprawled out on the bed. Your head rested on his stomach and he had an arm draped across your chest.

He picked up your left hand and inspected it, “I love seeing this on your finger. Probably should’ve proposed the first time I brought you home.”

You smirked, but there was a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that had been there since he got down on one knee.

“What’s wrong?” Robby asked, even drunk he was ever perceptive of your mood changes.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, “Everything’s perfect.”

He let a moment of silence pass, twisting the ring on your finger between his thumb and forefinger, “You know you can tell me anything, right? Nothing’s too scary or too much.”

You did know, but it didn’t stop your brain from convincing you otherwise. Eventually you swallowed and lifted yourself onto your knees so you could turn to face him.

“Do you ever think about the rate of divorce among emergency medicine doctors?”

He frowned, “Not particularly, no. But I gather you do?”

“I just—“ You sighed, “I love you, obviously, so much. But I—I wonder sometimes if… If getting married just invites the possibility of breaking this. And… And what we have is really good and I don’t—“

“Hey,” He sat up, “Slow down.” He paused, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

You sighed, “I don’t know, since you proposed, probably?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Right, okay.”

You deflated, “You’re mad.”

He shook his head, “Not mad. I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You could feel your abandonment fears dusting themselves off in your head. You had never felt as secure as you had with Robby. You had felt loved and safe from day one. Your fears that he would leave again, he proved over and over were unfounded. No one had ever shown up for you like this. And that made the prospect of losing him even scarier.

“Tell me more about it.” He said, “Your fears.”

You sighed, “I—It’s okay, we don’t have to. I want to marry you, I do.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” He said gently and wrapped his arms around you so he could pull you to his chest, “But we should still talk it through.”

You swallowed, “If the rate of divorce for ER doctors is so high, does the rate double when it’s two ER doctors instead of just one?”

He’s quiet a moment as he mulled it over, “You ever think that maybe an ER doctor marrying another ER doctor lowers the rate of divorce, rather than increasing it?”

“How do you figure that?”

“Both people understand the crazy schedule and the difficulties of the job. And if you’re like us and work in the same ER, you see each other day in and day out, even with that crazy schedule. Being colleagues probably increases healthy communication and conflict resolution outside the ER.”

Already, you felt soothed, “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Well I have even more compelling evidence for you.”

You smirked, “What’s that?”

“None of those ER doctors that got divorced were married to me.”

You laughed and turned in his arms so you could kiss him, “I love you.”

After a moment, you pulled away from him slightly, gears turning in your head, “How long of a drive is it to Las Vegas?”

Robby stared at you blankly until his brain began to catch up, “You’re serious?” He asked, his voice breathless.

You nodded, “I want to be your wife. Right now.”

His laugh was high and unbelieving as he ran a hand through his hair, “What about our friends and family—?”

“We can have a real wedding. Maybe a year from now, we do the whole thing right, renew our vows. But I don’t want to wait that long to be yours.”

He smiled, “You’re already mine.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Not legally. Besides, don’t you think there’s something really romantic about getting married in secret, just the two of us?”

After a moment of searching your face, probably trying to make sure this wasn’t some sort of mental break, he nodded, “Okay.” He laughed and shook his head, “Let’s get married.”

***

“The only car we have left is a manual.” The woman running the rental counter had bleached waves and thick black eyeliner. She chewed gum as she spoke, “Can either of you drive a manual?”

“Sorry,” Robby said, grin already spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand, “There’s no automatics left, is that… Did I hear you correctly? Only a manual?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at Robby. To her, he probably seemed insane, “Look, can you drive a manual or not?”

He looked back at you, then, smiling and shaking his head, “Yeah, we can both drive stick.”

The two of you had walked out of the rental store, giggling and swinging your hands between each other like children.

It was a five hour drive, so you bought donuts and coffees. Once in the car, you propped your feet up on the dash and stared over at Robby, who was reacquainting himself with a manual.

“You sure you remember how to drive stick?” You asked, mouth half full of donut.

He glared over at you, but couldn’t resist breaking into a smile anyway, “It’s like riding a bike.”

Placing his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, he started the car and began backing out of the parking lot. As he peeled out and fiddled with the radio, you rolled the windows down and were surprised when tears pricked your eyes when you looked back over at him.

You thought about all the heartbreak and lonely nights the last eleven years. The times you thought you’d be alone forever, or worse, stuck in a relationship with someone who didn’t want you. You mulled over all the nights you had allowed yourself to dream about that doctor you met in Florida. A fifteen hour drive that seemed to have rearranged all the planets and constellations of your life.

He had been your north star over the last decade, always seeming to guide you back to where you were supposed to be. Which was here. In this car. Windows down as you sang along to the radio. His hand held yours as it rested on top of the gear shift. Taking you to your wedding. Taking you home.

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