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@twoheartedfool
*Masterlist*
Marvel
Matt Murdock (Daredevil):
Someone Like You
Bucky Barnes:
While You Were Away
Top Gun: Maverick
Jake “Hangman” Seresin:
Wedding Crasher (Ongoing) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
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AO3
Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Twenty-Three
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings (mdni): post-apocalypse au, reader pov, swearing, mild blood, unprotective piv, mild angst, creampie, rough sex, pregnancy discussion, mentions of forced pregnancy, protective!simon
Word Count: 4k
You tend to Simon’s wounds. An argument follows with makeup sex. The fragile accessibility to contraception is broken. The first Pillar looms.
Chapter Twenty-Two // Chapter Twenty-Four
ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist
Blood graces the tips of your fingers.
A few fresh drops form hairline rivers, the rest is darkly dried and flaking, drifting to find a home on the back of your hand. Simon’s face is the worst of it. Bruising mars his upper jaw near the lobe of his ear. A large, stitched gash stands stark against his skin above his right brow, the edges of the wound inflamed and puffy from the needlework and initial blow.
“This will need ice.” Your thumb grazes over the mark. “The area is swelling.” Dropping your hand, you reach for the damp towel, removing the blood from your fingers. The fresh stuff wipes clean. The dry bits stick, forcing you to scrub. “What the hell hit you?”
“A food tray,” answers Simon, monotone.
“A food tray?” you repeat, disbelieving.
“Made of hard plastic.” Simon shrugs. “Cleans easy. Won’t break if used as a weapon.”
“Unbelievable,” you huff, checking under your nails.
Simon rolls his neck with an audible pop. “Had worse injuries.”
Perched on the edge of the coffee table in the living room, you stare dumbly at your husband. Simon sits on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. One leg bent, the other outstretched. A first aid kit lays open beside you, the contents spread out on the table.
Grasping Simon’s chin, you guide his face to the right. “I know.” The bruising will only deepen with time. “Still need to take care of it.” A bit of gauze and antiseptic will clean the area. “Should have this done at the hospital.”
As you add pressure to the afflicted spot, Simon inhales sharply. “I like your hands better.”
You snort, dabbing at the wound. “My hands aren’t meant for this.”
“Not meant for taking care of me?”
You drop your hand quickly. “This isn’t funny.”
Simon grasps your wrist, bringing your fingers back to his face. Palm upward, Simon rests his cheek against it, eyelids closing as he inhales deeply. “Didn’t say it was.” Those gorgeous brown eyes reappear, striking and sharp. “Should see Fields. That man needs the hospital.”
“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, not drawing your hand away. It’s warm where his cheek rests, radiating into your arm. As strong as Simon is, this is the most vulnerable you’ve seen him, seeking comfort with a gentle touch.
“Don’t regret what I did,” he says, firmly. “Do it again given the chance.”
“Simon,” you sigh. “Are you not worried? About what will happen to you?”
His voice is firm. Nonnegotiable. “Nothing will happen.”
The finality in his voice gives you pause. You’re not ignorant of the roles and rules of a military force. Regardless of who, to strike another soldier, to strike one of your own, results in punishment.
“Nothing?” you exhale, wanting nothing more than to roll your eyes but thinking better of it. “They punish soldiers all the time for this. What makes you any different?”
Simon slowly draws your hand away from his cheek. Clutching your hand in his, he brings it down to his lap. “Captain Price decides what happens to us.”
“I doubt that very much.”
His hand squeezes, drawing you closer. “I’m not some grunt, dove.”
That you know. You’ve been victim to it firsthand. “Real convenient then. Sounds like you can do whatever you want.” You don’t mean to sound as snarky as you do. Frustration, and concern for Simon’s injuries, outweigh your neural processing.
Simon leans in, shortening the small sliver of distance between you. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.”
Not a lecture, even if it feels like one. The delivery is gentle, like a brush of wind against the cheek.
“I know you nearly beat a man to death.” Try as you might, your voice cracks. The emotion isn’t for Fields, it’s for everything else, and how scared you were.
“Fields deserved it. Plenty of witnesses heard him. What he said. I had every right to do what I did to him.”
You shake your head. “I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t kill him,” he says, as if that makes it better.
Yanking your hand out of Simon’s grasp, you bolt up from the table, stepping over him. “You let yourself get carried away.”
Placing his hand on the sofa behind him, Simon pushes himself to standing. “I’ve killed enough men to know when they can’t take another hit. Fields had plenty left in him.”
That’s not the point. It was never the point.
Inside your chest is a twisted nest of vines, shredding your heart and ribcage, caving it in.
“You worried me.” You turn on him, voice rising slightly. “Receiving a call like that? I dropped everything and went to the hospital looking for you.” Your chest heaves, adrenaline spiking. “Jesus, Simon. Thought you were seriously injured.”
“Dove—”
“And then you weren’t at the hospital,” you continue right over him. “No one could tell me where you were. And I didn’t even find you. You just,” you gesture vaguely into the air, “appeared. After I searched everywhere you could possibly be.”
Simon’s shoulders soften, gentleness easing in. Rage would be preferable. Have a screaming match and fuck each other afterward.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, all the energy deflating like a slashed tire.
A slow saunter and he’s right there, on you, resting his hands on your hips, squeezing, drawing you in until you’re pressed against him. Simon’s arms slide up, and you melt, wrapping your arms around his middle as Simon encircles your shoulders.
“Don’t make me worry,” you say into his chest, eyes watery.
Simon kisses the crown of your head. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You still haven’t said what will happen to you.”
“Already told you,” he chuckles, “nothing.”
Leaning your head back, you stare into his face, searching for a hint of a lie. “That’s impossible.”
Simon releases your shoulders, cradling your face with both hands. “Not repeating what Fields said. But he said it loudly. Enough for everyone to hear. Left too many witnesses. Can’t defend himself.”
“What did he say?”
A pause blooms, and a muscle in Simon’s face twitches. Whatever Fields said, Simon is still angry over it.
“He said things about you. What he’d do to you if you were his. Couldn’t let that stand.”
Simon doesn’t just swing on anyone. His dislike for the Fields is thick like cooling tar, but Simon has never struck out at the man with his fists. What the fuck did Fields say about you? Enough for Simon to nearly beat him to death?
“I still don’t see how you won’t face consequences.”
Dipping his head, Simon comes in for a kiss. It’s slow and soft, more tender than he’s ever been.
“Price will drill me about it. Assign me grunt work for show. Keep me out of sight until we leave. But it’s Fields that’ll face a harsher consequence. To publicly say what he did, loud enough for me and everyone else to hear, that’s seen as disloyalty, and provoking conflict.” Simon rests his lips against your forehead before continuing. “He also has a record. It’s an embarrassment to Graves. He’ll want it swept under the rug and forgotten.”
You snuggle closer. “That’s not comforting.”
Simon seeks a few more kisses. These are deeper than the last and just as sweet.
“I was defending you. That’s how it’ll be seen. If Graves demanded punishment for bloodying one of his men, everyone would question his leadership. A drunken scuffle is one thing, but to not punish the soldier that talked about assaulting another’s wife?”
You jerk backward. “He said what?” Simon exhales through his nose. “That is not what you said a minute ago.”
“See why I couldn’t let it stand? Man deserved it.”
Burying your face in Simon’s chest, you breathe deep, lingering in his scent, filling your lungs with him. As much as you’re frustrated, having Simon here, holding you, is calming.
“I’m just happy you’re okay,” you whisper.
“I’m fine, dove. Promise.”
Tucking you against his chest, Simon sways, rubbing your back. Closing your eyes, you settle into him, silently counting your inhalations and exhalations, finding a place of calm, or a semblance of the concept.
“Still upset with me?” asks Simon.
“Only a little.”
“A little?”
You hold up one hand, bringing your thumb and forefinger close together but not touching. “Little bit.”
“Little bit,” repeats Simon, playfully kissing your fingers.
Laughing, you pull away, slipping out of his arms. Simon allows you to take a few steps before he’s on you again, grabbing, diving in for more kisses as you attempt to flee. This is a different side to Simon, a playfulness you didn’t think he possessed. Of all the times you’ve seen him smile, it’s never been with his whole mouth or even his teeth.
But this man is enraptured with you. Completely happy. It is soft and sweet and perfect enough to bottle. Let it be your perfume, or the honey in your tea.
“Simon,” you chastise, slapping at his hand. “Enough. You’re hurt.”
“Just my face,” he replies, a flirty drawl creeping in. “Not my dick.”
You burst out laughing, unable to contain yourself. Simon chases, herding you to the bedroom, dispelling you of clothes until you’re completely bare for him. Simon’s demeanor shifts from teasing to seductive, cradling your face in his hands, kissing you with a ferociousness that steals your breath.
“Want my mouth on your cunt.” Simon’s words are blunt. “Need your taste on my tongue. Need to hear you scream my name.”
A twinge seizes your thighs, pussy clenching like he’s inside you.
“Can I do what I want?” he asks, hushed.
Simon has controlled this entire relationship, but he’s seeking permission this time, laying it before you to take or reject. He’s asked you what you’ve wanted before, yet this is different, a desperateness that lingers beneath the surface.
The fight. The looming deployment. The idea of the two of you being separated for a month or more.
“Have your way with me,” and your voice is a whimper.
Simon seizes your mouth again, consuming until you’re clawing at him, needing to be within and without. His mouth descends, finding jaw and throat, shoulder and breast, stomach and thigh. Burying his face between your legs, he inhales, his hands supporting your ass as you fist his hair.
One minute you’re standing, and the next you’re on your back, the bed sinking beneath your weight. Simon is precise, turning you onto hands and knees, forcing your ass up and your legs wide.
You choke on your next inhalation as Simon tongues your pussy, using the tip of his tongue to trace lines that may very well be his name. A branding all its own.
“Fucking love your taste, dove,” groans Simon. He draws back, inserts a finger. It slides in easily. “And how your body takes me.”
A few strokes and then it’s gone, replaced with his tongue. You fist the bedding beneath you, squirming as Simon switches between fingering and tasting, coaxing your orgasm to the surface.
“Don’t fight it,” he says. “Don’t fight.”
Simon brings both into play, forcing the orgasm out. It’s harsh. Searing. You burst into a brief sob in the unrelenting pressure. Ceaseless, Simon continues to fuck you with his fingers, running his tongue over and around, sucking on your clit.
Another. Another.
The withdrawal is sudden. Suddenly full, then empty. Cool air and nothing, lasting but a moment. Lifting, pressed up against him, Simon slides his cock between your thighs, rocking back and forth in an easy motion. Not inside you, simply grinding, keeping you still as he coats himself in your slickness.
An urge crawls forth, of wanting to sink to your knees, to take him into your mouth, have him spill down your throat.
“Simon,” you gasp. “I want—”
Your words are stolen as Simon’s fingers slide into your mouth. His arms around you tighten, keep you aloft and on your knees at the edge of the bed, your legs pointed outward as he stands between them.
“You can suck my cock later,” he growls, knowing exactly what you desired.
His hips draw back, and the head of his cock finds its home. It’s a slow ease as he feeds you his dick, bringing more of him inside until there’s no more space between your bodies. Simon bites down on your neck, not hard enough to break skin, but the area will be tender. Might even leave little indents from his teeth.
Another slow move as he withdraws, leaving just the tip. Simon stays like that, the two of you simply breathing. His teeth are still on your skin, still pressing, causing a twinge of pain. A release, and an absence of teeth, followed by lips.
“Hold still, dove,” he murmurs.
Simon thrusts. It’s all fast, all rough, all primal need. You’re caged against him, the little sounds you make muffled by his fingers. Whatever this is, Simon needs it, desperately. To claim you, perhaps, to make them understand you’re his, even if no one is watching.
Your head falls back, resting against the top of his shoulder. There is no place for you to go to, no way to escape, not that you want to. His strokes are rough and deep, the penetration alone hitting somewhere that sparks with intensity, increasing with his thrusts.
Muscles relaxing, you remain weightless, eyelids fluttering as another orgasm rolls in, this one less intense but just as venomous. Behind you, Simon is all feral grunts and groans. It’s right in your ear, puffs of air that brush over your earlobe and across your skin.
All you can smell is sex and sweat. It mixes with your pathetic moans and Simon’s animalistic noises, and the slap of skin. Your thighs are wet and sticky, growing drenched by the second, likely to leave a small pool on the bed.
With a grunt, Simon’s arms shift. His fingers retreat and you gasp for air. The arms holding you grab your own, seizing your upper arms, drawing them back. Your top half is bent slightly, hanging over the bed. And Simon is still fucking you, rough and wanton.
He doesn’t cease, even when he fills your pussy with his cum. Your husband fucks it into you, only stopping to bring your bodies together, holding his dick inside you. The air is thick with breathing and sticky bodies.
Simon’s arms become a cradle, guiding you both down to the bed. Draping himself over you, still nestled in your cunt, he begins again.
“I’m out.”
Your stomach flips, threatening to spill your breakfast onto your feet. “I thought there was one left. What happened to it?”
Hannah frowns. “Didn’t you use it?”
You try to think, to roll back in time and recall when, or if, you used the last emergency contraceptive. The fact that they can make it at all is an accomplishment, which is why they’re rare and only ever given to women who have a history of complications or the potential for a difficult pregnancy. Hannah managed to snag what she could but that doesn’t mean the supply is endless. There are thousands of others that might need it.
“Maybe I did,” you laugh awkwardly, brushing it aside, even though the room is fucking tilting. “Can’t remember.”
Hannah quirks an eyebrow. “I can get you condoms. There are lots of those. Plenty to supply. They’re easier and cheaper to make.”
Simon might be hurt if you brought them home. He understands your reasons for wanting to delay, but he desires to be a father. He’d listen to you now, hear you out, even talk about it, but it would still cut.
“I’ll take a few,” you smile, accepting the box from Hannah. “Wouldn’t hurt.”
Not like it’ll help now.
How many times did you and Simon fuck last night? You won’t even count this morning in bed, in the shower, and then in the kitchen because you’d need more fingers. Even now, as you stand here, you feel his cum leaking out of you to dampen your underwear. If you didn’t have that it would be all over your thighs.
Eloise bursts through the door, her hair windswept, arms full. She drops the mess onto her desk, muttering under her breath in French.
“No cart?” asks Hannah.
“No,” Elose emphasizes, digging through the loose papers like she’s desperately searching for something. “The bastards.”
As she digs, she sorts. Pushing her hair out of her face, Eloise holds out a small stack of envelopes to you. “Yours,” she says, clipped.
Rushing over, you take them before she can throw them at you. Not that you think she would, but Eloise appears irritated enough to do anything.
“Thank you,” you say brightly. The fakeness hurts.
Eloise is still muttering to herself as Hannah tries to calm her when you plop down into your office chair, staring down at the small letter from the family planner you haven’t seen since you first signed your marriage contract.
If you weren’t at work, you’d fucking scream, rip the letter apart into thousands of little pieces. Doubtful they’d send a letter to Simon. He’s not the one with a womb.
“Everything okay?”
Your head snaps up into Hannah’s concerned face.
“Course. Yeah,” you lie, folding up the piece of paper with the appointment time and sticking it into your bag.
The clock on the wall is two hours off.
You consider saying something, then think better of it. Claire’s face is serious despite her smile; her clothes ironed to smooth perfection. There isn’t even a single hair out of place.
“This is just a follow up,” she says, hands clasped and resting on top of her desk. “To check on our progress.”
Simon remains impassive, a solid wall. “Progress?”
To her credit, Claire’s smile doesn’t waiver. “On a baby.” Her tone gives her away, because why else would they be there?
That is Claire’s purpose. She’s not for the singles but the newlyweds, to play up all the joys and benefits of pregnancy. Contribute to the population, and all will be well. The first Pillar is the most important. Scratching the woman’s eyes out isn’t an option, so you settle with silence. Your opinion is not wanted, and Simon has enough presence for both of you.
“Already?” he questions. “Last we spoke, we discussed my job. Trying for a baby while I’m expected to be gone isn’t ideal. And it’s not good for her. I should be here.”
Claire sighs like she’s about to correct a child who confidently rattled off an answer. “Yes. I agree with you. It is important you’re here. But you don’t need to be here while she’s pregnant.” She smooths her hands over the wood, clasping them again.
“I’m right here,” you retort, because why won’t Claire look at you? Why is she only addressing Simon? “And I’d like my husband present.”
Claire’s gaze shifts to you and then reverts to Simon. “I’ve already spoken to a few of your superiors—”
“You spoke with Price?”
Claire cocks her head. “Who?” She quickly waves away the question. “No. It doesn’t matter. From what I can gather, you’ll only be gone, at max, two months.” She turns, finally addressing you. “You really won’t be showing then, and something might happen.”
You swallow, your tongue growing dry. “Like a miscarriage.”
Claire nods. “Exactly.” She turns to Simon. “There’s no reason for you to worry over that. Your wife is in good hands here. She’ll be looked after. Cared for.”
“That may be true, but I’d rather be here. Especially if she were to miscarry. A husband shouldn’t be away if that happens.”
Simon is without the balaclava, but you sense the Ghost you meet all those months ago. There is a dangerousness lurking under his skin, awaiting the trigger to burst forth and devour.
Claire is still dismissive. “Even so, there have been changes. The counsel overseeing the first Pillar are concerned about numbers. We sustained significant loses over the tragic fighting that happened at one of the Safe Zones.”
The same Zone Simon is leaving for in less than a week.
“They’ve raised the goal birth count to counteract the loss. I’m afraid I must insist on this. You’re also a new couple, without children. Eyes are on individuals like you.”
Without thinking, you reach out and place your hand on Simon’s thigh. He glances down and then covers your hand with his own.
“But he’s leaving,” you say. “You can’t expect this of us now.”
Claire’s expression is unmoving. This is not an argument. It’s an order. Not from her, but from people far above them. People at the top. People who have a say on what happens. The old fear, the one you thought you unburdened yourself with, seeps in, taking root in the folds of your brain. Choice is what you want, even veiled, even fake, you’ll take it. This is not choice. Funny to think you could circumvent the inevitable.
“As I said,” she sighs. “There have been some changes. For couples like yourselves,” and she opens her hands wide, “we’ll be closely monitoring your progress.”
Simon snorts, showing more emotion than he has this entire meeting. “By giving us a tracker? Keeping tabs on creampies?”
Claire’s left eyelid spasms. “Not in such crass terms. But yes. In a sense.”
“I’m not comfortable with it,” you state, loudly and with conviction. “Sex is private. That should stay between Simon and I.”
“We have no intention of being present for it. Whatever you do on your own time is between you two. But twice a week, starting today, and then resuming when Lieutenant Riley returns, you’ll come here. There are private rooms where you’ll copulate, and a doctor will discreetly confirm that Lieutenant Riley’s sperm—”
“No.”
Simon’s voice cuts through the air. It is cold, tinged with anger. Ghost is back, ready to emerge, to show fang and claw.
“I’m sorry?” coughs Claire, clearly startled.
Simon delivers each word slowly. “You heard me. No.”
Mouth open like a dead fish, Claire blinks rapidly. Always the professional but even she has her limits. “This isn’t negotiable.”
“I don’t care,” and Simon’s voice remains lethal. “Not happening.”
“We could track at home,” you offer. The safest route is compromise, and tracking at home means things can be faked.
Claire makes a sound of disgust. “I’m sorry but it’s out of the question. This is from top. There are no allowances.”
Simon stands abruptly. “We’re leaving.”
Claire rises, too. “Lieutenant Riley.”
“Piss off,” he snaps, and Claire’s face goes beet red. Reaching for your arm, you allow Simon to guide you out of the chair, and away from this mess.
“You can’t say that to her,” you say to Simon as you exit Claire’s office. “No matter how angry you are.”
“I did,” he growls. “Deserved it, too.”
You walk together, hand in hand, your mind spiraling. There’s no way the woman is serious, but why does she have any reason to lie. Family planners spin the truth all the time, but Claire was upfront about this. Confident, if you had to put a word to it.
“Simon.”
A grunt.
“Simon,” you hiss. “You’re squeezing too hard.”
His grip eases. “Sorry, dove.”
With your free hand, you gently grasp his bicep, squeezing with soft reassurance. “You’re angry.”
“How’d you guess?”
Before Simon can open the front door to the building, you come to a halt, stepping to the side. “Hey,” you murmur, tugging him along. “Listen to me.” He goes to you without hesitation, and you draw him close, placing one hand over his heart. “It’s fine. Okay? Everything is going to be fine.”
Simon’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone. “I promised you a year. Not walking back on that promise.”
“No. I know. I believe you.”
Your hand rubs absently against his chest. “They can’t force us. They can’t.”
Bunny (P16)
Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader
summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.
a/n: Well well well- guess whose back. Thought I'd do a little surprise drop just for the plot BAHAHAH. Lets see, more drama obviously cause our girl cant catch a break, more domestic bunny and rafe and a little special feature for our girl Naomi cause I've missed her. I love Sarah Cameron. As the end of the series draws nearer I lowkey feel kinda emotional, I feel like nothings ever gonna beat rafe and bunny for me. 1 more chapter after this to go my loves x
warnings: allusions to sex, angst, violence (yelling/arguing) (jj pmo), mentions of past abuse (bruises ect), soft!rafe and Soft!bunny (they're so domestic)
(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13) (P14) (P15) (P16)
The soft hum of tires against the road was the only sound cutting through the silence inside the twinkie. Sarah sat up front, leaning her elbow against the open window as her fingers tapped against her thigh. Her eyes flicked between the side mirror and John B’s profile. The brunette boy’s hands were tight on the steering wheel very much mirroring the tense mood in the backseat. Pope sat beside JJ, who was slumped against the wall of the van, head resting back, his phone clutched in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored. JJ’s eyes were trained on the screen, scrolling through the messages he’d sent Y/N- all left on read.
“I’m sorry I should’ve said something”
“I should’ve stopped him”
“I was just in shock”
“Come home”
“You're still my sister no matter what”
“I love you”
He blinked hard, jaw tightening as he shoved the heel of his palm against his eye, like he could push down the sting building behind it. “C’mon, man,” Pope said quietly, nudging him with his shoulder.
“You’ve been moping for two days straight.”
“I’m not moping,” JJ muttered.
“You’re definitely moping”
Sarah piped up from the front seat, not turning around. “You haven’t said a word since we left the Chateau.” “I just…” JJ sighed finally shifting upright, placing his hands into the floor of the van and pushing himself up slightly,
“I don’t get how she could cut us off like this.”
“She’s not thinking like that,” Pope said gently. “She just needs time. After everything with your dad and Rafe-”
“-don’t say his name”
JJ snapped, a little too quickly. His voice cracked with it and he clenched his jaw and turned his face back toward the window. Pope leaned forward a bit, trying to bridge the gap.
“Look, we’re gonna grab Sarah’s stuff, then we’ll look for her. Maybe she just… needed space? That doesn’t mean she’s gone forever dude.”
JJ didn’t respond, just glanced back down at his phone, the screen dark now.
No new notifications
No answer from her
The Twinkie came to a slow stop outside the metal gates, the loud rattle of the van’s engine stark against the immaculate house before them. Inside the van, Kiara leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the grand front entrance.
“You still got the key?”
She asked, glancing at Sarah. The blonde girl pulled her tote bag into her lap and rummaged through it, the jingle of metal briefly filling the space before she held up a single key.
“Yeah I do.”
“What if he’s changed the locks?”
Cleo raised a brow from the back, arms crossed. Sarah let out an unimpressed scoff, already opening her door.
“I’d like to think he’s not that petty.”
From the driver’s seat, John B snorted. “Yeah right, you’ve clearly never met him”
Sarah shot him a dry stare as she swung her legs out the door and hopped out. The rest of the group followed- door creaking, feet hitting the pavement, the usual shuffling of trainers on the floor. Once she was facing the tall front gate Sarah paused, then turned, arms folded tight across her chest, scanning the group all lined up behind her.
“You’re all coming?!”
The rest of them exchanged a look, a quick unspoken conversation bouncing between the Pogues like a game of mental ping-pong. Then John B stepped forward with a shrug.
“Uh… yeah?”
Kiara raised a brow, “What, you thought we were gonna just sit in the van like unpaid Uber drivers... ?”
Sarah stood at the tall black gate, her fingers punching in the familiar code on the silver keypad. A faint beep… then a soft click. The gate creaked open slowly, and she gave it a push, slipping through the gap as the others quietly followed behind her one by one. JJ paused just before crossing the threshold, glancing up at the looming house beyond the hedges. He swallowed hard, thumb still brushing the corner of his phone screen inside his pocket.
The six of them walked in a tight, quiet cluster up the long cobblestone driveway. The sound of gravel crunching under their shoes was the only thing breaking the silence. Sarah looked over her shoulder, voice low but firm.
“Okay, just- keep quiet. I don’t know if he’s home.”
Pope turned back slightly toward JJ, who was trailing behind the group, his gaze flicking up toward the house’s tall windows. “You good?” Pope murmured but JJ didn’t answer at first.
It was his fault that all of this had happened.
His fault Y/N had gone radio silent and disappeared without a word.
His fault she was even in this mess to begin with.
JJ could feel it- this sharp, burning fury crawling up the back of his throat and settling heavy in his chest just at the thought of him. He swallowed it down, his jaw tight and his fingers twitching with the urge to hit something.
Anything.
Him.
His hand clenched briefly, then he gave Pope a stiff nod before looking back to Sarah who was already climbing the few steps to the grand double doors, her fingers gripping the key. She turned back to them one more time.
“Last chance to turn around.”
Cleo gave her a look, “We already broke in- might as well finish the job.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning light crept slowly across the living room, golden rays spilling in through the sheer curtains. It stretched across the floorboards and kissed the edge of the couch before it climbed its way up and reached them tangled together in their sleep. Y/N was still curled on Rafe’s chest, her cheek pressed to his bare skin- the slow rise and fall of his breathing lulling her deeper into rest. The blanket they’d pulled over themselves sometime in the night had slipped down to their waists leaving their upper bodies exposed to the warmth of the sun. His hand, large and steady, remained protectively across her back, holding her to him even in sleep.
However their soft morning stillness was soon broken.
Rafe stirred first his brow furrowing as a sound reached him through the haze of sleep; the faint, unmistakable rattle of a door handle being twisted repeatedly, followed by the subtle click of a lock. His eyes snapped open fully now and he sat up slowly, his hand still staying firm against Y/N’s back to support her where she lay curled against him. For a second, he held his breath and listened.
Another click.
Then the quiet creak of the front door swinging open.
Y/N shifted against him at the sudden movement, her lashes fluttering before her voice mumbled groggy with sleep,
“What’s going on…?”
“I don’t know, I-” Rafe’s voice was still thick with sleep but before he could finish muffled voices echoed from the front of the house, indistinct at first but quickly growing clearer.
“Just shut up guys, c’mon”
“Ow! John B- that’s my foot!”
“Why are you literally standing on my ass then Kie?”
Y/N went rigid on his chest as she sat up and turned her wide, panicked eyes toward Rafe. All the colour drained from her face. Her voice came out in a frantic whisper,
“What are they doing here?!”
Rafe was already sitting up, scanning the room with quick eyes the sleepy fog gone in an instant.
“C’mon”
He hissed under his breath. Y/N sat up fast, clutching the blanket to her chest as her heart thundered in her ribcage. They scrambled, hands, fabric and limbs moving in frantic coordination. She chucked his sweatpants at him as he stood, pulling them on in one rough motion, still shirtless. She whisper-yelled, glancing around in panic.
“Where the fuck did you throw my clothes?!”
“I don’t know- Jesus, I wasn’t exactly thinking about where I tossed them at the time!”
Rafe whispered back, eyes sweeping the room. She let out a sharp breath, the blanket still wrapped tight around her like a towel, standing barefoot in the middle of the sudden chaos that their peaceful morning had escalated to. Her bra was nowhere in sight. Her jeans- gone.
And her panties?
She spotted them thrown over the lampshade by the couch.
Of course
Rafe was halfway across the room, crouched behind the coffee table when the sound of footsteps grew louder before coming to a sudden stop and when Y/N whipped around to look in the direction of the sound,
Sarah was standing there having stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes landed on Y/N, wrapped in nothing but a blanket and then flicked to Rafe, shirtless and breathless. Her mouth dropped open.
“Oh my god.”
The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Y/N’s eyes went wide as Sarah blinked unmoving, once then twice like her brain was rebooting. They were all just standing there- frozen in a silence so thick it was becoming suffocating. Y/N’s fingers clenched tighter around the blanket at her chest and Rafe’s shoulders were tense, his jaw locked. Sarah looked like she’d just walked into an alternate universe, eyes flicking between the two of them, lips parted like she didn’t know what to say first. Rafe’s sharp voice broke the silence,
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I- I was just-”
Sarah’s lips moved but no more sound came out. She blinked again as she took a breath to speak but then a voice cut through the tension, whisper echoing in from the hallway with a clueless lilt.
“Hey Sarah, where’d you go…?”
Y/N froze.
No
No no no—
Her heart stopped cold.
She didn’t even have time to react before JJ rounded the corner. His steps slowed the second he saw them, his sister and Rafe; half-dressed, clothes scattered on the floor, the blanket wrapped around her, Rafe shirtless, her bra- right fucking there- thrown over the back of the couch. JJ’s entire body stiffened as his eyes locked on her, then Rafe, then down to the floor and back up again and then his face twisted.
“What the fuck.”
“Jay—” Y/N stepped forward instinctively, her voice breathless as she reached a hand out.
“It’s not what it looks like-”
“-not what it looks like?” he scoffed.
“Are you serious right now?”
His voice cracked around the edges, a mix of rage and betrayal bleeding through every syllable that left his mouth. His chest rose and fell in quick, angry breaths as he stared at his sister- the one who’d ghosted him for two days, ignored his texts and had his heart breaking- and now had Rafe fucking Cameron standing next to her. “You disappeared,” he spat.
“You don’t answer me and this is why?”
“JJ-” Rafe warned, stepping forward slightly but JJ’s glare whipped to him like fire catching gasoline.
“Don’t fucking talk to me.”
“Stop it, okay?”
Y/N suddenly snapped, stepping into the wide space between them before JJ could say anything more. Her voice trembled slightly but there was still sternness in her tone,
“You have no idea what’s going on.”
JJ let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head like she was actually insane. He spoke out, arms outstretched mockingly to gesture between Y/N and the boy standing next to her, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
“Oh I’m pretty sure I know exactly what’s going on”
“Excuse me?”
Y/N’s jaw clenched but JJ didn’t seem to hesitate or hold back. He was too angry, too heartbroken, certainly too blindsided by his fury to bite his tongue.
“Looks like what Dad said was right.”
The words hit her like a slap and her breath caught in her throat, the blanket still clutched in her fingers, but looser now. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything because she knew exactly what JJ meant. Those words- those vile, disgusting things her father screamed at her before he kicked her out- they were still fresh in her mind, still echoing in her skull on loop. And now JJ, her own brother, was throwing them in her face too? Her chest tightened and the burn started behind her eyes before she could stop it. There was a sudden sound of shuffling growing louder in the hallway, before the rest of the Pogues walked in, their eyes landing on the scene in front of them. Pope slowed confused, and Cleo and Kiara’s brows furrowed. But John B took one look at Y/N’s tear-filled eyes and JJ practically vibrating with rage a few feet opposite her and he muttered under his breath quietly but unmistakably clear-
“Oh shit.”
Rafe’s jaw tightened when he saw her. Y/N’s eyes were glassy, her hand trembling slightly where it clutched the blanket against her chest and her shoulders had drawn in, like she was trying to make herself smaller. She wasn't going to be treated like this, not in front of him under his roof. “Alright,” Rafe muttered stepping forward slowly and dangerously calm,
“You need to leave.”
“Get the fuck outta my face”
JJ spat his eyes snapped to Rafe, shoving him back with both hands. Rafe stumbled a step, but the fury that flashed in his eyes was immediate. John B’s voice cut in, trying to de-escalate the sudden storm that had erupted in the room,
“Okay man, I think we should-”
“No!” JJ barked spinning toward him.
“NO! I’m not fucking leaving, alright?!”
Then he turned back on his heel to Y/N, stepping toward her with betrayal bleeding out of every pore. He jabbed his finger in her direction angrily,
“I can’t fucking believe you would do this to me! Seriously?! After everything that we’ve- he’s tormented us for years, and now you’re here- what- sucking his dick?!”
Y/N shook her head in disbelief backing away a step, her bare feet quiet against the hardwood. She felt like the wind had been punched out of her lungs. “Hey!” Rafe shouted, stepping between them like a shield.
“Watch your fucking mouth.”
And then- he shoved JJ, hard. The blonde Pogue stumbled back, his chest still heaving. It looked like he was ready to throw a punch back in the Kook’s direction but then Y/N’s voice cracked through the standoff, pleading and desperate.
“JJ that’s not what this is, I swear- just listen to me please”
Her voice was breaking now, tears slipping down her cheeks despite her best effort to swallow them down. Her eyes bounced between the two boys, panic setting in as it all spiraled out of control. John B took JJ by the arm, yanking him back before anything worse could happen.
“Just chill out.”
He muttered harshly under his breath, glancing toward the others. Pope was already stepping in too, grabbing JJ’s other side with a firm hand.
“C’mon calm down.”
But Rafe wasn’t paying attention to them, instead his body was angled blocking Y/N from JJ’s view. His hand gently found her back, trying to ground her as she appeared visibly shook, her breaths short and quick. Sarah stood frozen near the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, this was her fault. She brought them here. She didn’t even think about the possibility of her being here. JJ shrugged both boys off with a rough jerk of his shoulders and suddenly, his voice cracked through the air again like a whip,
“You’re not a Maybank, you know that?”
Y/N’s brows furrowed, her voice small and cracking, “what… what are you talking about?”
“A Maybank would never betray their own blood”
JJ’s eyes were glossy now too and Y/N flinched like he’d hit her. Her lips parted trembling, her whole body shivering despite the blanket still clutched around her.
“Jay I love you, you're still my broth-”
Her voice broke as small sobs bubbled out of her chest now, no longer hidden. Her throat felt raw. Rafe turned instantly, cupping her cheek and whispering urgently shielding her from the looks of the rest of them.
“Hey, hey- shh- it’s okay, it’s okay”
In the back Kiara was already pushing past Pope and John B, her palm landing square on JJ’s chest with force. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she hissed. “That’s your sister— what the hell are you doing?!” JJ’s jaw was clenched, fists balled at his sides, his eyes bore into Y/N, who was curled slightly into Rafe now, like she was a stranger.
"Guess selling yourself came easier than telling me the truth"
Y/N let out the softest, broken gasp- a wounded sound that barely passed her lips. Rafe stiffened, his entire body went rigid, jaw clenched and he turned on his heel so fast it startled even Cleo.
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
Rafe’s voice boomed through the room like thunder.
“NOW!”
JJ didn’t flinch, he didn’t move either but John B and Pope didn’t wait. They grabbed him- each taking one arm- dragging him back toward the hall as he thrashed back against them, with gritted teeth and burning eyes.
“Let me go- fuck- LET GO OF ME-”
They’d already pulled him out, and his shouting faded into muffled echoes down the corridor. The front door slammed and silence followed. Y/N was shaking in Rafe’s arms, hands fisted in the material of the blanket around her. He just held her tighter, his hand cradling the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles down her spine. Behind them, Sarah stood still, guilt choking her. “Rafe,” she said quietly, voice breaking.
“I didn’t know. I swear- I didn’t know this was going to happen. I didn’t even know she was here- I’m sorry, I-”
Rafe sighed, long and slow, his hand never leaving Y/N’s back. He glanced over his shoulder tired,
“Sarah… just go.”
Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat, gave one last look at Y/N crumpled against him, then turned and walked out without another word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rafe’s bedroom was dim and quiet, except for the low hum of the fan overhead and the occasional rustle of sheets as Y/N shifted beneath them. She laid on the large queen-size mattress, an oversized t-shirt of his covering her frame. The door creaked open gently and Rafe stepped in, balancing a mug firmly in his hand. He murmured, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft clink.
“Brought you something,”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head, then he sank onto the bed beside her, laying on his side to face her, his head resting in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the cushions. Y/N blinked at him through her lashes before turning to properly look at him, her voice still somewhat hoarse but nevertheless teasing.
“I didn’t know Rafe Cameron knew how to make tea.”
“Yeah well, I’d learn how to make that weird green drink you like if you wanted.”
Her brow lifted as he gave her a smile.
“Matcha?”
“That thing.”
He nodded like it was some foreign concept, not that he drank anything outside of black coffee. Her smile cracked through her exhaustion and Rafe watched her carefully for a second before brushing a hand against her arm, fingers sliding up and down the exposed skin, soft to the touch.
“You okay?”
She hesitated, her lips parting as if the answer was trying to form, but never quite managed to get out. “Yeah, I guess I just…” Finally, she let out a sigh.
“I don’t know how I expected him to find out but… that wasn’t it.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
Rafe’s expression dimmed and he kissed his teeth before letting out a deep breath himself. She shook her head immediately, voice gentle.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Well…. I sorta think it is.”
Y/N shuffled herself closer towards him, propping her own elbow against the pillow, letting her rest her head on her hand. Her eyes met his and she tilted her head a little before humming as though deep in though,
“Hmmm… that’s a little awkward then”
That pulled a soft laugh out of him, “Yeah, just a bit.”
They laid there like that for a beat before slowly, like he couldn't help himself, he pushed forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. His hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing over the skin just beneath her eye. When he pulled back, his eyes flickered down to the fading bruise along her cheekbone,
"It looks better."
She nodded slowly, lips pressing together, “Mmhmm.” But her eyes were distant, like her mind was still somewhere back in that living room. Rafe stayed close, his hand still holding her face like he was anchoring her to the present. His thumb gently traced over the curve of her jaw.
"You can talk to me"
He said after a moment. She didn’t respond right away. Just leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as her fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his t-shirt. Then she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, "He looked at me like I was a stranger." Rafe’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything. Just let her speak, his thumb brushing slowly across her cheek. "It’s not even what he said. Not really. It’s just-" her throat tightened,
"He meant it."
Silence settled again, thick and aching. Rafe shifted slightly closer, pressing a kiss to her temple as he let out a small sigh,
"He was hurt and angry- not that I'm defending him- but people say dumb shit when they’re angry"
"I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me."
Rafe was quiet, watching the girl as she sat up and brought her hand up to run over the arch of her brow. He sat up on the bed himself, back comfortably against the headboard as he spoke out,
"Then he’s not who you thought he was."
"He’s my baby Rafe."
Her voice was soft and breaking as she spoke, eyes glassed over again as she pulled her knees up, looping her arms around them. "I brought him up. Ever since he was a little blonde-haired toddler. I’ve looked after him, protected him- God, I used to wipe his nose and teach him how to tie his laces. I just..." She dropped her head into her palm, elbow resting against her knee her voice nearly a whisper now,
"I just want my baby back."
Rafe didn’t say anything right away. He just reached over and rested a hand on her back, rubbing slow, steady circles like he was trying to ease an invisible ache he couldn’t fix. "He’s still your baby" he murmured eventually.
"Give him time, he’ll come around."
Her eyes lifted, full of doubt, "And if he doesn’t?"
"You still have me."
He added the words gently, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced at her. She couldn’t help it, a tiny smile bloomed on her lips too, and she nudged her shoulder into his, their arms brushing. "Well gee," she murmured, tilting her head toward him,
"Isn’t that an upgrade."
Rafe huffed out a low laugh, his eyebrows raising, "Damn right it is," he shot back with a smirk.
"I make you tea"
"Oh yeah, the bare minimum. You’re really setting the bar high Rafe."
Rafe smirked, then without a word, slipped his arm around her waist and gently tugged her down with him until she was lying flat against his chest. She let out a soft surprised laugh, the breath leaving her lungs as she landed against him. He looked down at her and pressed a slow, tender kiss to her lips.
"Only the best for my girl"
He murmured against her mouth and she giggled softly, her fingers curling in the fabric of his t-shirt. It felt safe, easy even, but then his tone shifted, not necessarily heavy but more serious. "Speaking of that..." Her smile faltered just a little as she pulled back enough to look up at him, brow furrowing slightly.
"What...?"
He paused just for a beat and she felt the subtle tension in his chest beneath her. "Since you're living with me now..." He trailed off again and she stayed quiet, giving him the space to speak.
"...I need you to do something for me."
She blinked her voice gentle, "Anything you want."
His jaw flexed once, he looked like he was chewing on it, the words, the timing, the fear of saying the wrong thing to her and fucking it all up again. Finally, he exhaled through his nose and said it voice low but steady:
"I want you to stop working at the strip club."
For a second, she didn't respond. Her brows knit tighter together as she lifted herself a little more, bracing a hand on the bed beside him.
"What...?"
It wasn’t angry. Just quiet and confused. Like it didn’t compute in her mind. She blinked, eyes searching his face like she hadn’t quite heard him right. “Rafe, I—” But he was already shaking his head,
“I know. I know you don’t wanna depend on me.”
He paused, “and I respect that.” His eyes held hers as he continued, “So you can work at the country club. Hell- pick up something else, I’ll help you look. But just…” he swallowed, voice thickening slightly.
“Please. No more dancing.”
She sat up fully, still facing him, legs folded under herself now as she looked at him with something close to disbelief. Not irritation, just shock and surprise.
“Are you being serious...?”
Her voice cracked a little at the end. It wasn’t judgmental, not even hesitant- just stunned. Rafe sat up too, shifting so they were eye to eye. “Yeah.” His voice didn’t waver,
“Let me take care of you.”
Her breath caught as he continued, “You don’t have to work yourself to the bone just to survive anymore, not with me.” His hand moved to hers, threading his fingers gently with hers like he was afraid she’d pull away.
“I know you’re strong and you’ve always figured it out yourself but…”
She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked down at their hands, her thumb brushing across his knuckles and then, quietly, almost like a whisper:
“Okay.”
She leaned forward slowly,
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, okay.”
A soft smile tugged at her lips and he let out a quiet breath of relief then leaned in, pressing a warm lingering kiss to her lips, his thumb brushing her jaw. When he pulled back, a small smirk replaced the softness. “But… those cute little sets you’ve got-” His voice dropped an octave, playful now.
“You’ll still wear them for me, right?”
She let out an incredulous laugh, shoving him back against the mattress with both hands on his chest.
“You’re gross Cameron.”
He threw his hands up like he was surrendering, innocent of all charges that she was throwing at him, “What? I’m asking a reasonable question…” She bit back a grin as she swung her leg over his lap, settling comfortably against his thighs before leaning down, “Sure,” she murmured against his lips, kissing him again,
“The little sets are only for you now...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Y/N sat tucked into the corner of a cozy little coffee shop, her fingers curled around a warm latte, although it remained untouched as her eyes kept drifting to the table across from her. A young couple sat there, blissfully unaware of anything but their baby. The mom had the little girl perched on her hip, bouncing her gently while the father reached out, making silly faces. The toddler giggled, tiny hands opening and closing as she made eager little grabby hands toward her dad’s face, like she couldn’t get enough of him. Her childish laughter rose above the soft clinking of dishes and quiet conversation around the cafe, a pure sound that made something ache in Y/N’s chest. She blinked, dragging her eyes back to the steam curling up from her drink just in time to hear a voice behind her:
“Well, well, well… look what the cat dragged in.”
Y/N turned, already smiling before she even saw her. Naomi’s arms were crossed, one hip popped out slightly, oversized sunglasses perched on her head and her long acrylics drumming against her bicep. She looked dead serious, her expression tight.
But then she cracked.
“You bitch.”
She broke into a grin striding forward, Y/N stood up and was immediately wrapped in a tight, vanilla-scented hug. Naomi squeezed her like she meant it, “Hey, ‘Omi,” Y/N mumbled into her shoulder, suddenly breathless from how much she'd missed her. The girl pulled back, holding her at arm’s length.
“I was this close to filing a missing persons case. You had me picturing you dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve been busy.”
Y/N laughed and Naomi raised a brow, sliding into the seat across from her.
“Busy, huh?”
She looked Y/N up and down now, really taking her in; the clean hair, the soft looking oversized sweater, the lack of her brows drawn down in worry like they usually were and she narrowed her eyes slightly, legs crossing at the knee as she folded her arms
“This better not be 'cause of your little boy toy.”
Y/N went quiet, lips twitching like she was trying not to smile but the attempt didn’t last long. A grin cracked through. Naomi pointed at her triumphantly with a finger, “I knew it. I knewww it.” She tossed her braided hair over her shoulder pridefully,
“I had a feeling, you know, and my feelings are never wrong.”
Y/N laughed under her breath, rubbing a hand over her cheek, the bruise having faded- which she was grateful for as she knew Naomi would be asking questions otherwise.
“Are you mad at me?”
Naomi didn’t answer at first. She reached across the table, slid Y/N’s untouched latte toward herself, and took a slow unbothered sip like it belonged to her. She placed the cup down onto the small plate with a clink and then she looked to her,
“Mad? Why would I be mad at you Bunny?”
“I don’t know… 'cause I just like disappeared without a word?”
Naomi clicked her tongue with a small shake of her head in agreement, “Okay, yeah. I was mad. A little mad.” She held up two fingers, like an inch apart to try to reflect the annoyance she had at the girl, but she quickly waved her hand in Y/N’s direction as she continued, “But I’m not gonna hold it against you girl and besides you’ve seen me mad.” Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line, amused, before speaking out,
“I’ve seen you drag a man across a bar floor in six-inch heels.”
Naomi sat back, “Mmhmm, so trust me… if I was mad at you, you’d know.”
She picked up the cup again, her fingers wrapping around the warmth of it, took another sip, and gave a little satisfied nod. “Sorry, this is really good.” Y/N watched her, the corners of her eyes crinkling just slightly, that familiar heat blooming behind her ribs. She didn’t realise how much she’d missed this, missed Naomi, until this moment. The way she could cut through all the noise in her head without even trying. Naomi caught her looking and tilted her head.
“Are you gonna drink this or…?”
Y/N shook her head, “It’s all yours.”
Naomi grinned and pulled the cup closer, “Thanks, honey.” She leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, “Sooo…” she started her eyes gleaming like she was bracing for a juicy confession,
“Did you call me here cause you wanna know the club gossip or-”
“As tempting as that is, no. That’s not why I called you.”
Naomi tilted her head, her earrings catching the light as she gave her a mock squint. “It’s just cause you missed me, right?” Y/N gave her a look and said,
“Mmhmm. Yep. You got me there.”
That earned a full laugh from both of them, loud enough that the couple at the next table gave them a quick glance. A beat passed between them and Naomi took another sip, then glanced down at the cup before saying, “Well... I’ve missed you.” She didn’t say it like a joke, didn’t throw it out there for laughs or deflection. Just said it, quietly like it had been sitting on her chest since the last time they saw each other. Her gaze dropped to the coffee, swirling the liquid around slowly before speaking again.
“You know I don’t do emotions n’shit but... I’ve missed you.”
Y/N felt her throat catch for a second, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. Her voice was gentler when she finally spoke.
“I’ve missed you too.”
Their eyes met again, and for a moment, there was nothing between them; no neon lights, no heavy music, no mirrors or backstage chaos. Just two girls with a quiet understanding of each other. Naomi gave a soft little sniff, then she straightened up, “Okay, enough of the sappy shit.” Her voice returned to its usual sharpness, but the warmth behind her eyes didn’t fade.
“So what’s up? You coming back and wanna know what time slots are free this week?”
Y/N gave a soft breath of a laugh, but it was tight around the edges. Her gaze dropped to the table, her fingers beginning to tap out a slow rhythm against the wood grain.
“Yeah, um… it’s actually the opposite of that.”
A pause settled between them, heavy and still and then Naomi’s brows lifted slightly.
“... you’re leaving?”
Y/N didn’t speak at first. She just looked at her and then gave a quiet nod. Naomi leaned back slowly in her chair, jaw shifting like she was working through something. Her lips parted, like she might say something but then closed again. “Damn.” She tilted her head.
“So boy toy is your sugar daddy now, huh?”
“He’s not my sugar daddy.”
Y/N let out a breath of laughter and rolled her eyes, running a fingertip over the arch of her brow. Naomi narrowed her eyes like a lawyer catching someone in a lie mid case.
“Uh-huh. Does he drive a Range Rover?”
Y/N hesitated a second too long.
“…yes?”
That broke whatever tension was left, both of them bursting into giggles once more, Naomi nearly knocking her elbow on the table as she leaned forward and Y/N hiding her face behind her hands to calm herself down, both their stomachs starting to cramp from the laughter.
“That’s what I thought. Sugar. Daddy.”
“Stop you’re embarrassing me” Y/N laughed, kicking lightly at the girl's ankle under the table.
“He’s just… good to me. That’s all.”
Naomi tilted her head, gaze softening again- less teasing now like she knew the moment deserved more than just jokes. “Good,” she said, her voice quieter.
“You deserve better than the club anyway.”
Y/N looked at her, throat suddenly tight, the lump forming so fast it startled her. She swallowed it down with a soft breath, eyes lingering on Naomi’s face. “So do you.” Naomi just shook her head with a slow smile tugging at her lips knowingly. “That place is my home,” she murmured.
“And you know it.”
Y/N nodded, the motion small but full of understanding. She looked at the girl across from her; sharp-eyed, loud-mouthed, ride-or-die attitude. The one who did her lip liner for her backstage when her hands were shaking, who taught her how to count her cash fast and stand her ground even faster. “Well,” she said, her voice softer now,
“I’m glad that it managed to lure me in.”
“And why’s that exactly?”
“Otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”
Y/N gave her a small, watery smile and Naomi groaned and tipped her head back dramatically.
“God, don’t be nice to me right now. I’ll cry all over my fake Gucci.”
Y/N laughed through her sniffle and reached across the table, fingers slipping into Naomi’s, palms pressed warm together on the wood of the table top. The girl didn’t pull away, just looked down at their hands, then up at Y/N. Her voice was softer than Y/N had ever heard it.
“I’m proud of you.”
Y/N smiled, a little tremble in it as she tried, really hard, to keep it together.
“I love you Omi.”
Naomi batted her lashes, her lips quirking upwards, “I know. I’m very lovable.”
Time passed faster than the girls expected as they sat at the table, one latte having turned to three and before they knew it the sky had started to bleed into an orange hue. Naomi let out a long breath, giving Y/N’s hand one last squeeze before letting go, she spoke out her voice light but eyes serious.
“You better come visit”
“Duh- you won’t be able to get rid of me that easily.”
They both stood, half-laughing, half-lingering, until Naomi finally pulled her into a tight hug, not one of their usual playful ones, but something full and real and grounding. The bell jingled above them as they pushed the door open, the cool breeze brushing against their skin. “Get outta here Bunny,” she spoke waving her hand at Y/N dismissively,
“Go live your domestic dream.”
“Oh shut up” Y/N said, laughing.
“I’m serious!” Naomi added, “and you tell little mr ‘trust fund’ that if he breaks your heart, I’m showing up with my six-inch heels.”
“He won’t.” Y/N’s voice was soft but certain and Naomi looked at her, then nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t think he will either.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The late afternoon sun poured in through the wide windows of the country club, casting golden light across the polished marble floor. Outside, golfers milled about on the manicured green, their drinks in hand and voices drifting in through the open terrace doors. Inside, it was still pleasant, the weather having gotten warmer as the month progressed. It was quiet, the lull between lunch and dinner when the bar only saw the occasional regulars. Y/N stood behind it, restocking glasses with practiced ease. The air was soft with the scent of freshly cut lemon slices and citrus gin, the low murmur of conversation from a few older members huddled at a corner table the only background noise. She didn’t hear footsteps, but she felt it shift in the atmosphere when someone’s eyes were fixed on you. She straightened, turned toward the presence with a polite smile already in place. “What can I get you?” And then she saw who it was.
“…Oh.”
Her smile faltered just slightly.
“Hi- What can I get you?”
Sarah Cameron stood on the other side of the bar, hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, eyes steady on hers. There was no malice in them, just… something unreadable. For a moment Y/N wondered how Sarah had even managed to get in, she was pretty sure Rafe was the only Cameron with a membership.
“Can we talk?”
Sarah asked plainly, albeit a quiet sense of nervousness could be heard, and Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at the mostly empty bar. Only three patrons sat at the far end, half-watching the golf tournament on the mounted TV. “Well,” she said, brushing her hands on a bar towel,
“I’m kind of on the clock right now… but we can talk here.”
“Here’s fine.”
Y/N nodded once as she reached behind her and poured a glass of water, sliding it across the counter toward Sarah like a peace offering. Y/N reached for a dry towel, wiping it across a damp glass with smooth motion. It gave her something to do with her hands, something to focus on while Sarah settled into the stool opposite her. There was a pause, not awkward but thick with whatever Sarah had come here to say. Finally, the blonde girl across the counter spoke. “I, um…” Sarah cleared her throat, resting her elbows on the bar.
“I’m sorry. For showing up at the house like that. I wasn’t trying to… interrupt anything.”
Y/N gave a small dry laugh, her eyes still focused on the glass in her hands, “You didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Still,” Sarah pressed gently, “I wasn’t trying to catch you off guard. I didn’t know you and my brother were… you know.”
That made Y/N pause for a second, the rhythm of her hands slowing just slightly. “Yeah uh” she murmured, setting the glass down.
“It’s… recent.”
Sarah nodded, then twisted her fingers together on the bartop.
“I just— I didn’t mean to cause a thing with you and JJ. I didn’t know about any of that, I swear, and after the fight that night, I just kept thinking, like… if I hadn’t come by, maybe things wouldn’t’ve blown up like they did-”
“-Sarah.”
Y/N finally looked up, her face softening and she shook her head once, firmly.
“It’s fine. It’s not your fault.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment and the hum of the golf announcer on the TV drifted lazily in the background. Y/N busied her hands again, reaching for another glass, wiping it clean. Her voice was gentler now when she spoke again.
“Things were already tense with JJ… you just happened to walk in at the wrong time.”
Sarah’s brow furrowed slightly, guilt still resting behind her eyes, but she nodded slowly.
“I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it on purpose. I really didn’t know.”
Y/N gave her a faint, appreciative smile, “I know you didn’t.”
The quiet settled between them again like an unsure fog. Sarah fidgeted with the edge of a paper napkin from the counter, folding and unfolding it absently. Y/N had gone back to cleaning glasses, her movements smooth but just a touch too focused like she was trying not to feel the heat of Sarah’s gaze as she suddenly spoke,
"Y/N, my brother... he’s not exactly the type to-"
Y/N let out a short breath and cut in, her voice firm but not harsh, "Look, Sarah. If you're here to lecture me about Rafe, I really—" her eyes flicked up, guarded now,
"I really don't need that. Okay?"
Sarah opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but Y/N kept going.
"I get it. He’s your brother and you’ve seen him at his worst, but so have I.”
She stopped wiping the glass, placed it carefully on the drying mat, and rested both hands on the edge of the bar. Sarah hesitated, then leaned in just slightly, voice quieter now but still threaded with concern.
"I'm sorry but- it's Rafe. I've known him my whole life and he’s never been the type to help people, not unless there’s something in it for him. I’m just worried that maybe he sees you’re in a rough position and he’s just..." she trailed off not finishing the sentence and Y/N blinked slowly at her, jaw tightening. Then she shook her head. "Stop..." she exhaled, eyes flicking downward.
"Stop"
Her voice cracked just slightly as she pushed the towel aside and her shoulders dropped a little. “No one has helped me the past few months the way he has. No one.” Her eyes draw away from the counter to meet Sarah’s,
“He’s been there for me in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you because you wouldn’t believe me.”
Sarah’s expression softened at that and she watched her quietly for a beat, lips parted like she might speak. Then her voice came quieter than before,
“Yes I would...”
Y/N looked at Sarah for a long moment. And all she could see was a girl who was open, understanding. Someone who wanted to know the truth rather than take it away and further spin it into a web of lies. She let out a breath less defensive this time, “I finish my shift at seven today,” she murmured, glancing out the window where the afternoon sun was beginning to lower.
“Meet me outside by the staff car park and I’ll tell you everything.”
Sarah gave a small nod and Y/N turned, picked up the next glass.
The cool evening air wrapped around them as they stood outside the club, the faint hum of the island's nightlife carrying in the background. Y/N leaned against the brick wall, the weight of the conversation she was having heavy on her shoulders. Sarah stood beside her, silent, but there was an understanding in her posture now. She was quiet- the whole time. She didn't interrupt once, just listened, waiting for Y/N to speak, to unload everything she had been holding in.
Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette, the smoke curling into the air as she exhaled slowly. She raised her hand and offered it to Sarah, who smiled politely and shook her head. They stood silent for a moment, the quiet between them thick like the smoke rising from Y/N’s lips, but somehow it was comfortable. “No one knows this,” Y/N continued, her voice barely a whisper now.
“No one but me and Rafe… and now you.”
Sarah’s face softened with understanding, her eyes filled with empathy after having listened to Y/N, like a priest at confession. She exhaled slowly her words quiet,
“JJ is pretty mad at you,” Sarah said her voice careful but not accusatory, “I don’t think he understands why you’d—”
“-that’s not my problem anymore.”
Y/N cut her off, her tone sharper than she meant. She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face in frustration before pursing her lips and shaking her head softly, speaking out,
“You heard what he said… ‘I’m not a Maybank.’ ”
She repeated the words, as if to remind herself just how much they stung. Sarah looked at her for a long moment, “It’s not that simple, Y/N. He’s hurting. JJ cares about you- more than he lets on. And he doesn’t know how to deal with this. I know it’s not easy, but I think you two need to talk.”
Y/N shook her head again, almost to herself this time. “I don’t know if I can. It’s not about JJ anymore. I can’t keep trying to fix things with him. I've been doing that for too long- I’ve always made sure he’s happy Sarah, but now… I think I should focus on what’s best for me.”
Sarah gave a small understanding nod, her eyes flickering down to the cigarette in Y/N’s hand, the older girl noticed, causing her to hold it up to her. Sarah took it, lifting it to her lips and taking a slow pull. The smoke lifting above the two of them like a small cloud.
“I get it. But I think you owe it to yourself to have that conversation with him to tell him what's really going on.”
Y/N exhaled slowly, sliding down the wall so she was crouching by the floor, tapping the cigarette ash onto the paving on the floor. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that, but deep down, she knew it was something that needed to happen.
She owed it to herself
And to JJ
The quiet between them stretched on, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The last of the cigarette smoke curled up into the night air, disappearing into the sky as if it was never even there. Y/N stared at the glowing ember on the floor beside her, the weight of everything she had just said settling deep inside her.
"I... I love your brother Sarah."
The words hung in the air as she suddenly spoke out, her voice trembling slightly, as if confessing it out loud to someone else except for him made it more real. Y/N didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed somewhere near the dark patch of pavement between her shoes, her heart thrumming beneath her ribs. Sarah’s expression softened, her eyes widening a little in surprise. She had never imagined hearing those words come from Y/N’s lips- not because she didn’t believe it but because she never thought anyone would be brave enough to admit that about him.
Her brother?
Sarah was silent as if trying to find the right words, but Y/N was too focused on the quiet to look at her. It wasn’t until Sarah’s voice broke the stillness that Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Sarah’s. “I think he loves you too,” Sarah said,
“From what I can tell... I think he loves you a lot.”
Y/N finally looked up at that and Sarah pushed off from where she’d been leaning and crouched down besides her, her back against the same wall now, their shoulders a few inches apart. She rested her arms over her bent knees, then looked sideways at Y/N who gave her a small, tired smile and Sarah, after a beat, said gently but plainly,
“But... I know JJ loves you too.”
Y/N’s smile faded, and she stared ahead for a beat, her throat tightening as she let out a breath through her nose. Sarah didn’t say anything after that, almost as though afraid she’d pushed too hard. The older girl whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost lost to in the cool breeze of the evening,
"I don't know if I'm allowed to love them both"
“I think that’s for you to decide…”
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I hurt my own feelings thinking about this
Thinking about a soulmate AU where Simon is covered in tattoos because he wants to ignore the one indicating his soulmate.
It showed up just before his 18th birthday. A name written in delicate script cascading down his forearm. He stared at numbly.
Then the years went on without meeting you. All the shit he went through convinced him more and more that he never would. Then one day he decided he wouldn’t. Somehow convinced himself that if he didn’t see your name taunting him everyday, he would forget. That he could spit into the face of fate before it decided to take yet another thing away from him.
The tattoo artist met his eyes before he pressed the machine to his skin. A silent are you sure? A dead glare was enough of an answer.
hi I have a Scott miller x artist reader request
she enjoys sketching him and likes to chat with him but he’s super cold to her sometimes and blows her off even tho he likes her he’s just oblivious to her feelings and after Javi and Tyler point out how much she likes him he confesses his feelings to her
Heyyyyyy. So sorry I fell off the face of the earth. Really hope this still finds you and you enjoy!
Silly Drawings
Scott Miller x Reader
Artist reader goes down a more “responsible” path and is an intern with StormPAR.
CW: mentions of alcohol, mostly fluff, disgruntled Scott
"Is this all the data from this morning?"
"Yea," you casually tossed over shoulder-
"WAIT!"
Scott's eyes bulged as if you grew an extra head as you lunged at him, hands going to the small book on the bottom of the stack.
"Not- not this one," you clutched the sketchbook close to your chest. Scott followed your fingers as they tightened around the red canvas bound booked. It wasn't larger than 5"x5", frayed at the edges from years of use or maybe just from being carelessly tossed from van to van. Graphite dust smeared across the cover.
He didn't have to speak for you to know what he was saying.
What the fuck?
You responded with a sheepish smile and gestured towards the rest of the papers.
"It's good- the data. This morning gave us good data." Your throat resisted as you swallowed nervously.
Scott stared for another moment, his eyes flicking from yours to the book, back to yours. Then, with a curt nod, he was off.
"Goodnight!"
Your face contorted into a pained wince as you leaned against the van. The sketchbook made a dull thud against your forehead. Find a way to directly tell your brain that you needed to be more careful where you left it.
——
"Yo! Mr. Scott. Have you seen our favorite StormPAR intern?" Boone skidded to a halt in front of Scott just as he was about to enter his motel room. Tyler was following not far behind.
He didn't need to confirm your name to know who they were referring to. All the times he had seen you chatting with one of them over breakfast. Waving when you crossed paths on the road. The frequent interactions often made his skin bristle.
"Yea," he huffed. "She's-"
No longer by the van.
Tyler bit his tongue watching Scott's eyes now scanning the crowded motel parking lot with the subtlest pout. He knew that look. The edge that crawled up someone's spine when the safety of the person they cared about was now unconfirmed. It was instinctual, protective, not possessive.
It was sappy.
It was funny as hell to Tyler.
"Aw, damn," Boone pouted as he clocked Scott's face now, too. "We were supposed to go over mockups for our next t-shirt."
That made Scott look back down. Why were you doing merchandising with another team? Why were you doing merchandising?
Tyler stepped forward before his questions could be answered.
"Hey, let me ask you something."
Scott waited with a blank face.
"How long have you known her?"
"She started interning this spring," Scott replied with a quirked eyebrow. This was common knowledge. You were graduating with a Bachelor of Science. You had taken a few years off after high school. This was your first job on the field, gaining more experience before applying elsewhere. Despite the lack of experience, you were a good addition to the team. You were diligent, capable, beautiful—
Common knowledge.
"Really? You just seem like you've known each other for longer. You ever..." Tyler's voice trailed off and Scott's jaw ticked. Tyler's hands immediately went up in innocence, his charming laugh echoing. Even he couldn’t help but be rattled by the cold chill that erupted from Scott's stormy gaze.
"Didn't mean nothing by it. You just fit well together is what I’m saying. She’s clearly likes you.”
Something else brewed underneath the stormy gaze. Scott’s grasp tightened around his papers before adjusting his hat.
“That’s not- She’s- No.”
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up. A bark of a laugh exploded from a few feet away. Javi stood by a cooler, blatantly eavesdropping as he opened a beer.
“Relax, man,” he called over.
“She’s just doing her job,” Scott justified lowly.
“Yea, I don’t think the way she looks at you is a part of her job,” Javi retorted. “She doesn’t look at me like that.”
Scott simply shook his head. “I’m going to bed. And you should, too.”
The conversation ended with the slam of his motel door.
——
Your heart lurched the next morning at the knock of the side of the truck. Then lurched again when your eyes met blue ones. You had your feet up on the dash, doors open, and sketchbook in your lap.
“Scott-“ you gasped.
“Morn-“ his voice caught when he glanced down at your lap. A very realistic drawing of very familiar eyes caught his attention first. Then the nose. The same jawline he saw in the mirror this morning peaked through your fingers as you tried to casually hide the image.
“Is that me?”
You looked down at your trembling fingers. With a shaky laugh, you moved them to reveal more. No use in hiding it now.
“Um, yea. It is. Scott-“ He was pulling the book gently from your lap. “Scott.”
He cradled the book in his large hand, more delicately than you had ever seen him. He flicked through the previous pages. Other members of the team. Renderings of coffee cups and barns. Him. More him.
“You did these?” His voice was quiet, like he didn’t want a scared animal to run off.
“Yea,” you whispered. You barely heard it over the blood rushing in your ears. “You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?”
There was a lull of silence between you. His eyes met yours and you excepted to see annoyance, rejection. But instead it was a softness, clouded slightly by the calculations whirring through his head. Calm slowly started to ease back into your body. He tilted his head down, breaking your gaze, before he spoke again.
“What are you doing here?”
“Look, Scott, I’m sorry. I won’t waste anymore time with my silly drawings-“
“No.”
You blinked at him. He was looking at you again. He had the same look of stubbornness he usually did when something wasn’t right and he knew it.
“You do good work here. That’s undeniable. But this…"
He shook his head as if the words failed. Scott, so intelligent, so articulate, could not find the words to describe the sketch he held in his hand.
“What are you doing here? Why be out here chasing tornados when you should be clearly doing something else?”
“I tried,” you shrugged. “I wasn’t good enough.”
“That is not-“ your eyes widened slightly at the growl in his voice. He restarted with a deep breath. He shook his head again, chuckling at an unspoken joke before handing the sketchbook back to you finally.
“I’m not going to pretend I know shit about art. But if I know anything it’s that you’re good enough.”
You’re perfect.
There was another comfortable lull as your ears went red at the intensity of his gaze. His tongue flicked over lips in a nervous tick. Before you could register what was happening, his lips found your cheek. Gone quickly but the tingle on your skin remained. His large frame filled the truck’s doorway as he leaned over you.
“Ride with me today?” He asked.
“Sure. I’d like that,” you responded with a coy smile. The corner of his own mouth ticked upward in a lopsided grin. He leaned away with a short nod and he was gone.
THIS MADE ME SO SHY HELLO???
Awww thank you for the reblog <3
Where is She? - Rick Grimes
Pairings: Glenn x Maggie, Daryl x Friend!Reader, Rick x Reader
Warnings: Canon typical stuff, discussion of death of character, all the angst
***
Daryl pulled his bike to a stop and you climbed off after patting him on the back. You took his crossbow off your back and handed it to him as he gave you a nod of thanks. Glenn and Maggie pulled up beside you in the car and you reached into the back seat to get your backpack and your baseball bat. Some people found your choice of weapon odd, but it worked for you. You also wore a knife strapped to your thigh.
The four of you were on a run, hoping to find some more supplies for your group. In particular, you needed diapers and baby formula. Your boyfriend’s ex-wife had died in child birth and the two of you had taken on the baby girl as her daddy was long dead. Carl, Rick’s son, was her brother so you felt it the right thing to do even if you had never cared for Lori. You sighed and ran your eyes over the little town around you.
“How do you two want to do this?” Maggie asked and you glanced at Daryl. If Rick wasn’t around people usually deferred to one of you two.
Daryl shrugged so you answered. “We’ve got a pharmacy and a small market. If I send you two to the market can you manage to not make out long enough to get supplies?” you asked with a smirk.
“We won’t make out,” Maggie said with a roll of her eyes as she started in that direction, pulling Glenn along behind her.
“Much,” Glenn called over his shoulder, laughing when Maggie lightly shoved him.
Keep reading
Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Fourteen
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Chapter Specific Warnings (mdni): post-apocalypse au, swearing, birth control/abortion discussion, mild angst, kissing, possessive!Simon
Word Count: 5.1k
You seek out information to prevent a possible pregnancy. Where Simon went is revealed. Simon admits a truth to you before he leaves.
Chapter Thirteen // Chapter Fifteen
ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist
“What happened to the stack of inquiries?”
Hannah ravenously shifts through stacks of papers next to the ancient fax machine. The fossil of a device beeps, whirs, and fires up again, sounding like it’s about to launch itself into space.
Eloise absently sips from her coffee cup. “Which ones?”
With a huff, Hannah snatches the new fax from the machine. Glancing at it, her eyes scan the page. A clipped laugh. “Fucking waste of paper.” Hannah crushes it into a ball, tossing it into the nearby recycling bin.
She pivots on her heel, addressing Eloise. “The ones you’ve been ignoring,” replies Hannah with clipped irritation.
“Oh,” muses Eloise. She slowly glances away from the document in her hand to peer at her coworker. “Those.”
“Yes. Those,” emphasizes Hannah.
Their bickering is simply background chatter. You’re unfocused. Confused. On the verge of fully disassociating.
Simon never came back. You awoke, tangled in his sheets, smelling of him, and yet the man was nowhere in sight. Not even a goddamn note. Where he went last night is still a mystery. All morning you’ve mulled it over in your head, considering every possible option. It’s a fruitless endeavor. Anxiety is your companion now, sitting sour in your stomach.
Simon’s absence isn’t the only thing nipping at you. What he said before he left still lingers—still repeats like a pounding drum.
I’d cherish the both of you.
An admission. A glimmer of emotion from a brute of a man. It’s fucking maddening, and so goddamn frustrating you’re not sure if you want to cry or scream. Yet it’s not even the worst of it. The matter of contention, of what happened, what he did or what you perceived him to have done, compounds like an insufferable weight.
Inquiries are important. Your job is important. But focus is flimsy and gone and slipping beneath your fingers with every battered word that Hannah and Eloise exchange. When they switch to French, you completely tune them out.
Birth control. Abortion. Of what you understand, which is little, they aren’t options for you. Or, perhaps they are, and Joann is withholding that little nugget. The anxiety worsens, pushing out of your stomach and into your chest.
What will happen if you become pregnant? Was there even enough of Simon’s cum to actually matter?
“Hm.” Eloise’s lips purse like she’s considering something.
“Hm?” mocks Hannah. “Hm? That’s all you have to say about it?” The fax machine starts up again. “I don’t have time for this!” Reaching behind the bulky beast, Hannah yanks the cord out of the outlet. It immediately shuts off, the whirring becoming a soft sigh as if it were human and not a machine.
“Finally,” groans Hannah. “Some fucking peace.”
Eloise points the tip of her ball-point pen in Hannah’s direction. “Don’t let Arthur see that.”
“Arthur isn’t here,” snaps Hannah, waving her hand dismissively.
You only have so much time. It’s a short window to prevent fertilization and implantation. There are herbal remedies. Back home, that’s the option you went with to prevent pregnancy. If you could find the ingredients here, you could make a tea. Drink it down and cross your fingers.
Eloise huffs, shaking out the document as if it’s dirty.
No. You have to ask. You have to. There is protection in community. Hannah and Eloise have never made you feel out of place.
“Can I ask you something?” you blurt.
You flinch slightly at how loud and desperate you sound.
The two women glance in your direction, their features shifting into soft surprise and curiosity. Hannah opens her mouth to answer, but you continue on, knowing that you need to get this all out before you back down and give up.
“Not about this.” You gesture in the air vaguely, indicating the room. “It’s about something else.”
Eloise exhales with relief. “Oui.” She tosses the document over her head. “Gladly.” Hannah rolls her eyes at the gesture but says nothing.
A nervous itch sets in. You don’t realize you’ve been chewing on a fingernail until you taste the coppery bite of blood.
You drop your hand into your lap. “What are the rules around…birth control?”
The two women stare at you like grass is growing out of your ears. Eloise’s head is tilted slightly, as if she didn’t hear you correctly. Hannah is a dead fish, her mouth opening in a soft o. They exchange a look, the silence stretching. As it starts to become awkward, Hannah decides to answer.
“Have you not talked about this with your gynecologist?”
“My—” you stammer. “My what?”
“Do you know what a gynecologist is?” asks Hannah, clear concern on her face.
“Yes. Yes, I know. I just—no? I mean—” You press your palm to your forehead. You feel hot. Feverish. “Am I supposed to have one?”
“Are you supposed to have one?” repeats Hannah. “Did no one assign you one?”
“I—I don’t think so,” you reply honestly, but you don’t know. You have no clue about how any of this works.
Hannah, clearly no longer interested in the missing inquires or the ancient fax machine that looks like it’s smoking, comes over to your desk. “What about a g-p?”
“Like a general practitioner?”
Hannah nods.
“No?”
Eloise chimes in. She leans forward in her chair, placing her elbows on her desk. “Have you been to the hospital?”
You play with the end of your sleeve, glancing down into your lap. “I had exams done when I was brought here.”
“At the hospital?”
“No. They had me quarantined outside the wall.”
Hannah places her palm on the edge of your desk, her expression serious. “Have you not been registered with the hospital?” You shake your head. “Were you assigned a dentist?” Another shake. “Did your transitional advisor go over any of this with you?”
When you don’t reply right away, a sliver of anger creeps into Hannah’s features. It’s clear that this information bothers her.
“Why are you asking?” she asks softly.
You like to think the best of people, but all these years running on pure survival have altered the way you interact with others. While you trust Hannah, the voice of doubt is still present, lurking at the back of your mind.
“Well—”
“Wait,” she interrupts, holding up both hands. “Don’t answer that.” With a heavy sigh, Hannah rubs at her temples. “Okay. First thing. When did it happen?”
You blink. “When did what happen?”
“The sex,” answers Eloise, her tone blunt.
“There wasn’t—” You splutter. “I didn’t—”
Amusement creeps into the corners of Eloise’s eyes and mouth. Her lips form a knowing smile. Whether or not you and Simon actually had sex is irrelevant. He ejaculated on your clit, used it to rub it, to pull forth a blissful orgasm that had you so strung out that you didn’t notice his cum-coated fingers sliding into you at first.
They don’t need the details. They don’t need the meat of it.
“Yesterday,” you admit. “Last night,” you correct. “But it’s not what you think!”
A tone shift. Hannah is no longer irritated with your transitional advisor’s shitty professionalism. There is more to all this, and you’ve been given fucking scraps of the reality.
Hannah lightly taps your leg with the tip of her shoe. “Who was it.” She taps again. “Spill.”
Eloise wheels herself out from around her desk, scooting herself over on her chair. Rolling to a stop, she plants both arms on the tabletop, resting her chin in her hand. “Tell us about him.”
“I didn’t say it was a man,” you mutter.
Eloise snorts. “If it’s not a man, why are you asking about birth control?”
“Fair point,” you mutter.
“Oh!” Hannah perks up, clapping her hands together. “Was it the one who came here on your first day?”
Eloise sits up, her excitement palpable. “Lieutenant Riley?” She shivers with pleasure. “Is he big?”
Hannah guffaws. “He has to be.”
The two women giggle hysterically, slapping at each other as if the three of you are teenage girls at a weekend sleepover.
“Is that important?” you ask, bewildered.
“No,” replies Hannah, her smile softening just as Eloise replies, “Oui. It is.”
Hannah waves off Eloise. “The man has a bit of a reputation.”
A reputation? It’s possible. Not like you’ve really talked to anyone about him outside of communicating with him directly. An outsider’s perspective might be nice. Reflective. Shine some light on all your anxieties. Ease them a bit.
“Does he?” you question, voice a bit small.
Fuck. Is he an asshole? Certainly. The man did snatch you from your home. Kidnapped you if you’re being completely truthful with yourself. But “having a reputation” could mean fucking anything.
Eloise nods. “Many women have tried to tie him down. No one’s been successful. But,” and she points at you, “he likes you.”
You brush it off with a clipped laugh. “And how would you know that? Can you read his mind?”
Eloise shrugs. “How many times has he stopped by during your lunch break?”
Goddamn her.
You shrug, tugging on the lobe of your ear, glancing off to the side. “It’s only been a few times.”
Hannah blows raspberries. “Try nearly every day.”
“That is not true!” you exclaim.
“He did,” confirms Eloise. “I counted.”
Flabbergasted, you watch as Eloise pushes away from your desk in an exaggerated flourish. The wheels squeak as the chair spins her back. She picks up her planner, lifting it in the air like a victory trophy. Without momentum, she starts inching her way back.
“Get out of the fucking chair,” mutters Hannah, reaching for the planner.
Eloise snatches it away from Hannah’s grasp and swears at her in French. When Hannah scowls down at her, Eloise flashes you a bright smile. “See.”
You lean forward. See her notes in different colored pens. It doesn’t take you long to pick up on where she’s marked Simon’s appearances. They’re correct, and you know they are. There is no use denying the truth.
“We know it’s weird,” adds Hannah. “But we were both in on it!”
“That doesn’t make it less weird,” you reply dryly.
Hannah dismisses your comment with a wave of her hand. “Not the point. You’re asking about birth control.”
Eloise snaps the planner shut. “Did you let him finish inside you?”
“Eloise,” you breathe.
You have no idea what I almost let him do.
She waggles her finger. “Naughty girl.”
“Oh my God,” you mumble, covering your face with your hands, wanting to melt into the floor.
“We’re not here to judge,” Hannah says quickly. “We can talk about the other stuff later.”
Eloise hums in agreement. “Your transitional advisor is a bitch.”
Hannah rolls her eyes. “Eloise. That is not helpful.”
“You can tell him I said that,” she says with confidence.
“But it did happen last night?” asks Hannah.
“Yes,” you nod.
Hannah pushes off from your desk, heading for hers. “There’s still time. I’ll go to the pharmacy.”
“There’s a pharmacy?”
Hannah keeps talking, disregarding your question. “I’ll grab a few things. And something you can take now so you don’t have to try and negotiate out of a potential pregnancy later.”
Negotiate out of a pregnancy? The very idea of having no control stuns you to the spot. Cold creeps in, turning your blood to ice.
“Is abortion illegal then?”
Eloise and Hannah both stop in their tracks, looks of disgust plastered on their faces. “No,” they answer simultaneously.
“But there are…stipulations,” Hannah adds, opening a drawer in her desk. “It’s a bit,” she wiggles her fingers, “prickly.”
“How so?”
Hannah’s lips part slightly as she leans down to retrieve a small purse from the drawer. “If it’s not medically necessary, you need to be below a certain number of weeks. Or have a damn good excuse.”
There is no elaboration. Just a statement of fact. It’s more than what you had before, but the new information only causes further questions and deeper anxieties. Trapped. That’s what Joann wants—what the government wants. To have you contribute to the gene pool. To be breeding stock. They just dress it up and present it nicely to not scare anyone off.
Hannah retrieves her coat. “If Arthur comes back from his meeting while I’m gone, tell him I went to the bakery.”
“The bakery on the corner?” Eloise checks the time. “They’re closed.”
Hannah sighs dramatically. “Tell him I went to take a shit. I don’t really care, Eloise.”
The moment Hannah leaves, you find yourself spiraling again. Numb and unsure of what to do next, you simply sit at your desk, staring off into space. There are books to catalogue, to scan, to cross-check with the digital database, to print copies of those books and put them out into the library for people to check out.
So much to do. Yet you are stagnant like still water. Focus is fleeting. A sharp wind that snatches a precious item from your hands, shepherding it away forever.
You do not check the time. Do not do anything except wait for Hannah’s return. And when she does, she comes with a full bag. A mountain of stuff emerges from it, creating a mess on your desk. You nearly choke in surprise, startled by how much she’s brought with her.
“How the fuck did you get all this?” You pick up boxes of condoms, several reusable menstrual cups, and multiple boxes of emergency contraceptive.
Hannah beams with pride. “I have a medical exemption.” You glance up, ready to dig around, but Hannah continues on, clearly understanding how much you need this. “I have endometriosis. We’re lucky to still have the technology we do. The war destroyed a lot, but it didn’t erase everything.” Her happiness faulters slightly. “Treating endo isn’t a top priority. And since it can cause complications with pregnancy, infertility, and a host of other issues, I’ve been giving an exemption.”
“No adding to the gene pool for you?” you ask.
She shakes her head. “No.”
Though her tone has cooled, there is a sadness in her gaze, lingering just behind her irises. You recall the pamphlet you read about the different pillars. Genetic contribution is the first. The most important.
You gesture to one of the emergency contraceptives. “Which gets you this?”
Hannah laughs. “They literally cannot tell me no. It’s great!”
Eloise inclines her head. “She’s saved me a few times.”
You take it all in, looking over every box and container. “But, is that legal? Sharing this with me?”
“Technically, no,” winces Hannah. “But no one is policing it. There are…bigger issues. And while they want babies, they also don’t want an excessive amount.” She shrugs. “Resource distribution and all that.”
You pick up one of the emergency contraceptives. It’s simple. Plain. The packaging is minimal with only directions on it. No warnings. No dosage. Not like the packaging you’d see before the world collapsed. It’s also hard, like the exterior packaging can be sanitized and reused.
“Is it safe?” you ask hesitantly, placing the contraceptive down.
“Yes,” affirms Hannah. “A few of the Safe Zones are designated for drug research and manufacturing. Each Zone has their thing.” She starts picking up the items you haven’t touched. “I’ll keep these in my desk. And we can talk about the rest another time.”
The overwhelming pressure in your body refuses to abate. Additional clarity did not bring comfort.
“It’s a lot to take in,” you agree, and you hate how defeated you sound. A bit pathetic. Small.
Eloise is at the electric kettle, heating water. Hannah dumps her coffee into the sink and rinses out the cup. “Especially when you’re coming in from the outside.” Hannah grabs a towel, wiping it out. “You’re doing well. Not everyone does.”
A small box sits in front of you. Emergency Contraceptive, it reads in bold, black lettering. You open it up. Tip it toward your palm. A plain white pill drops into your hand. You stare at it a moment, considering.
It’s a flicker of hesitation. A brief concern.
And then the doubt is gone. Blinks out.
You throw it back. Take a sip of water. Swallow it down. Run your tongue over your teeth.
“Are we going to your place tonight?” asks Hannah as she drops a fresh tea bag into her empty mug.
Shit. You forgot about that, too worried about Simon to remember that you have a whole fucking apartment to pack up. And a bed covered in glass. Scattered coneflowers on the floor.
“Yes,” you breathe, taking another sip of water. “Need help packing. Moving some boxes.”
The key to your new apartment sits heavy in your pocket. It’s supposed to be a fresh beginning. A chance to reset. But it’s nothing more than a nicer cage.
The rest of work is a blur. There are books and papers and filing and marking things off the checklist. All of it robotic. A rhythm. Simple tasks that are utterly brainless and leave you hollow.
Walking to your new place is just as weighty, the only beacon being Hannah and Eloise and their constantly happy chatter. It’s nice having someone. You have no friends. No family. You have these two women. And Simon.
Maybe.
“My neighbors are going at it again,” bemoans Hannah. “It’s at all hours.”
Eloise snickers. “You have rabbits in your walls.”
“Oh God,” cackles Hannah. “Can you—what the fuck.”
The abrupt change catches you off-guard. You’ve had your head down, gaze on your feet. Your head snaps up, every nerve alert and on edge. The front door of your apartment is propped open. No. Not propped. As you step closer, it’s entirely off it’s hinges. From it comes male voices, banging, and thuds that rattle the floor.
Eloise peers over your shoulder. “Could have told us you ordered movers.”
“I didn’t,” you murmur.
Frowning, Hannah takes the boldest step, striding forward like she’s about to chew out whoever is inside. She makes it to the frame, and then deflates, shoulders sagging as she takes in whatever she finds. It’s enough motivation. You and Eloise follow, coming to a halt as you draw up beside Hannah.
“Looks like you won’t need help moving anything,” says Hannah.
“No,” you agree, a bit breathless.
The apartment is completely furnished. You take a step inside. Then another. Kitchen cabinets sit open, revealing cups, plates, bowls, mugs, and various storage containers. In the living room is a sectional sofa, clearly secondhand but still in good condition. There are matching bookcases, the shelves empty and waiting to be filled. In front of the sectional is a plain wood coffee table with a rug beneath it.
“Is that a television?” you laugh, disbelieving.
As you head for it, a large shadow passes into your peripheral. You shift. Turn. Glance up. Heart fluttering with excitement.
“Excuse me.”
The voice is wrong. Not deep enough, and not British.
It’s not him.
You step to the side as one of the movers carries out a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. You track his movement, as do Eloise and Hannah. When he’s out the door, the two women scamper over, grasping your arms.
Hannah squeezes your forearm. “You didn’t order movers?”
“No,” you blurt. “I had no idea this was happening.”
The middle of Eloise’s brow pinches. “Who—” It softens, understanding arriving on its heels. “Oh.”
“Oh?” you gasp. “Oh, what?”
Eloise’s mouth upturns into a sharp smile. Mischievous. Wicked. She waggles her eyebrows.
Hannah reaches out and smacks her arm. “You don’t think—”
“I do.”
They both start jumping in sync, shaking you until the room starts to spin. “Knock it off,” you groan.
“It has to be,” giggles Hannah. “Who else?”
A retort forms on your tongue. You want to deny, to chase the thought away. This can’t be why Simon left and never came back. He’s about to leave. Surely he has other responsibilities.
“You must be the new neighbor!”
You, Eloise, and Hannah turn at the exact same time. A stout man with grey hair stands in the open doorway. He’s beaming, clearly excited about someone new in the building. From the way his gaze darts between the three of you, the man doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be addressing.
“I am,” you reply, extending your hand.
“I’m Marvin,” he exhales with relief, taking your offered palm. It’s a firm, warm handshake. “Glad to finally meet you. Met your husband already.”
“You—you met my husband?”
Marvin nods. “Big guy. Military. First met him when he was viewing the place.” He gestures at the room. “Was here all morning and afternoon with the movers. Just left actually.” Marvin inclines his head. “Surprised you missed him.”
Simon. He’s talking about Simon.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“I was at work,” you reply, playing along. “Brought my coworkers to show them the place.”
Hannah and Eloise blessedly feign ignorance, agreeing with firm nods.
“Lovely place,” says Hannah.
“Exquisite,” adds Eloise.
Marvin’s brow softens. “And all those flowers he brought in?” He whistles lowly. “That man loves you. It’s good to see that. Given the state of things.”
“It’s so nice,” sighs Hannah dreamily.
Eloise is still nodding her head. Hasn’t stopped since Marvin walked in. “True love,” she affirms.
You almost laugh out loud at how forced their sincerity sounds. They’re eating this up. Enjoying every second.
“It’s a bit small, though. For children.” As if realizing what he’s just said, Marvin clears his throat. “Excuse me. Didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s fine,” you say quickly. “The marriage is…new.”
Marvin’s gaze grows distant as if recalling a fond memory. “Ah, young love.” Coming back to himself, Marvin clears his throat, tapping his chest. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He backs up, waving as he goes. “Tell your husband I said ‘hello.’”
You simply nod. Wave.
The second he’s gone; you nearly collapse to the floor. Eloise and Hannah slowly turn in your direction, their smiles knowing and ecstatic.
“Don’t,” you warn, but they’re already on you.
Dragging you over to the sofa, they force you down onto it, taking up spots on either side of you.
“Did you couple up without telling us?”
“You married Lieutenant Riley?”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“How big is it?”
“I bet it’s huge.”
“Stop,” you say sharply, cutting your arms through the air. “We are not married.”
Eloise arches an eyebrow. “But you slept with him.”
No, Eloise. I did not sleep with him. He ate me out, gave me multiple orgasms, and then finger fucked me with his cum.
“Simon and I are not a couple,” you reply, staying firm.
Hannah draws back. She lifts her hand, extending her fingers with each thing she counts off. “You’re not married. You’re not a couple. You’re not together.” She pauses, glancing around the furnished apartment. Her gaze shifts to the open bedroom door, and her expression melts into delight. “And yet he did all this?”
You follow her line of sight. All the coneflowers have been collected, returned to their vases. They cover the bedroom. Standing tall on the bedside tables. The dresser. The fucking floor.
“I understand if you don’t believe me,” you begin. “But he and I are not…anything.”
“You called him ‘Simon,’” observes Eloise, staring at her fingernails as if they’re the most interesting thing in the room.
“First name basis means nothing,” you mutter. “And furthermore. He was my minder during my probationary period. We were forced to be together all the time.”
Hannah pats your hand like you’re an ignorant child in need of comfort. “This isn’t the behavior of someone forced to be around you. He wants to be around you.”
You have no idea what you’re saying, Hannah. He wants so much more.
Simon’s words from last night, the ones you’ve been repeating in your mind come crashing forward, shoving down down down your throat and imbedding in your lungs, willing you to say them aloud. To speak them into existence.
I’d cherish the both of you.
“It doesn’t matter,” you say dismissively. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”
Eloise and Hannah’s voice rise to the same heightened pitch. “He’s leaving tomorrow?”
You sink back into the sofa. Fuck, it’s so goddamn comfortable.
Hannah shifts and rests her arm along the top cushion. “Are you going to talk to him? Tell me you are.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” you groan, placing your hands over your face, sinking further.
Hannah grabs your wrist, yanking them away from your face. Her and Eloise peer down at you.
“Talk to him,” asserts Hannah. “Tomorrow. Before work.”
“We’ll lock you out of the building if you don’t,” adds Eloise.
They don’t know what happened, what you’re trying to process. It’s all thick and loud and suffocating. Not talking to Simon, avoiding him before he leaves, might actually be for the worse.
“I’ll talk to him.”
The sun sits low behind the wall, casting everything around you in long shadows.
It’s early—far too early, but you didn’t want to miss your chance. You fidget in the same spot, standing off to the side, keeping your head on a swivel. The military zone is just starting to awaken. Most of the soldiers walking by are in rumpled fatigues, clearly not ready to face the day. They rub at their eyes. Yawn. Turn their heads to linger on you far longer than you like.
But you’re the odd one here. A civilian now. No chaperone.
And you don’t dare venture further in. Don’t stop any of the men walking past. You already tried that, doing nothing more than being a distraction, getting in the way of the people you were simply trying to talk to.
Simon might not even be here in this area. He could already be on the other side of the wall. Could be in a vehicle. Could be traveling. Could be far away at this point.
You’ve missed him.
You did.
He wouldn’t wait for you. Wouldn’t want to talk after everything. This is silly. Pathetic. Desperation on display.
You kick at the dirt. Swallow. Lick your lips.
More eyes on you. More men walking past. A few pause, shifting in your direction, considering whether or not they should approach. Panic rises. The feral rabbit crouched in the tall grass scenting the deadly fox.
This is a terrible idea. A farce.
Best to go.
Best to flee.
Your limbs twist, muscles straining. The instinct flares, and everything your body has learned the last few years falls into place.
“You’re here.”
Gruff. Husky. Deep and British and surprised.
You turn in the direction of Simon’s voice, sighing with relief. You don’t even realize what you’re doing until after its happened. You push off from the ground, fling your arms around his neck, hold on to him tightly. There is no hesitation with Simon. His arms wrap around you, keeping you against his body. Comforting. Warm. Such strength. It grounds you, fills in all your hollow cracks.
A wave. And then a crash.
You pull back abruptly, and Simon surrenders, accepting your reluctance.
“I—” you begin. “I wanted—”
“Hush,” soothes Simon, but it’s not condescending.
“Please,” he begs.
“Listen,” he urges.
You give him the slightest nod, encouraging him to continue. Inside your chest, your heart hammers, nearly drowning in its intensity.
“I have to go. We’re leaving.” Simon shifts on his feet, head tilting slightly. “But I need to say this.”
Even with the balaclava covering his mouth, you notice the twitch of his muscles beneath the fabric. If the two of you weren’t out in the open, you’d ask him to remove it. To see his features one last time.
“There’s no excuse for what I did. You were—fuck,” he mutters, pausing.
You place your hand on his chest, flattening your palm. Simon’s responding sigh is heavy. Sweet. As if your touch is all he needs.
“For a moment, you were mine.” Mine is a growl. Primal possession. It clamps around your throat. Squeezing. Stealing breath and function, extracting your thoughts right out of your skull. “And I indulged in what I wanted. To see my cum inside you.”
You inhale sharply.
“It’s not an excuse,” he continues. “I know that.”
“Ghost!”
The two of you twist toward the voice. Johnny waves at Simon, his hand swinging in a “come here” gesture.
“Fucking hell,” mumbles Simon. “This isn’t—I was wrong for it. But I won’t deny how I feel. Or what I want.”
He doesn’t say it. Not aloud. It is unspoken. Dust. Particles in the air lingering between your bodies.
“Ghost!” Johnny shouts again. “We’re leaving.”
Simon briefly glances in Johnny’s direction, but it’s only seconds before his gaze returns to you. There is softness in it. Longing. Deep within yourself, you know he wants to say more, to take as much time as he needs. But time is not on his side. Or yours.
“Don’t hate me for this,” he murmurs, before grasping the back of your neck.
Your lips crash against his, the fabric of the balaclava scratching your skin. His grip is dominating, his actions a mark of ownership before his peers. Simon wants them to know. Wants them to see. And you don’t entirely mind. But it’s over far too soon, and when you drift apart, you whimper, already missing him.
You hate this. Hate him.
Tumultuous and raw, you’re being split open, organs expelled for the sheer joy of it. It’s not fair that he’s leaving, that you have to do this alone, that you can’t simply go home.
“What’s this?” he asks, voice soft. A gentleness you didn’t expect.
You present the coneflower. A little wilted. Slightly crushed.
“Wanted you to have a piece of me before you go,” you admit lamely.
“Oh, dove,” sighs Simon, gently taking it from your open palm, gazing on it with reverence.
Tucking it into the inside of his uniform, Simon presses his covered mouth to your forehead. He draws back slowly, teasing you with a playful touch beneath your chin.
A step backward. Then another.
“Don’t forget me,” he says.
Simon’s gaze remains on you. Unmoving even as he saunters away. He taps the place where the petals of the coneflower peek out. Just over his heart. You watch his retreat, watch him join Johnny, watch him disappear.
Only then do you release yourself, finally moving your feet, ushering yourself away from this place.
Only then do you notice.
Only then do you glimpse the familiar face of a certain sergeant.
Lost Boys Part 3
Pope Cody x OC x Baz Blackwell
Deran, you sweet, baby boy. You've never done anything wrong CW: grief, drinking, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping, slow burn, potential love triangle, heavily inspired by canon but not accurate Please comment and reblog <3
"Natalia!"
The young woman's head snapped over to her mother. Shannon was barely covered in a sheer, lacey robe. A cigarette hung loosely between in fingers, dropping hot ash as she talked animatedly and waved her daughter over.
Nat slowly sank into the water, eyes staying just above the surface. With luck, her mother would move swiftly on in the conversation and forget what she wanted her for in the first place. It wasn't a new tactic of Nat's. She knew the stages of her mother's downfall of sobriety and she was well into goldfish memory. The woman next to her, however, was as sharp as always.
"Nat, baby, come here a second."
Nat's eyes met Pope's briefly before she dunked under to push herself towards the ladder, their game with the youngest Cody officially paused.
She ignored the heavy gaze of the men sitting around her mom and honorary aunt. Just a couple years passed being consider a woman, her jaw clenched as their eyes lingered too long on her breasts, her legs. A hand lightly brushed the small of her back, and she sent a thankful smile to Baz as he handed her a towel. They both began their way to the lounge chairs, but Smurf was quickly flashing a bright smile to Baz.
"Honey, will you get me another drink?"
Nat's body felt cold when Baz turned to go into the house. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders. Smurf patted the space between her stretched out legs, and Nat's body jerked forward, forcing herself to move past the alarm bells. The tension in the house had been only growing thicker and thicker the past couple weeks. Smurf's bright smile was more unnerving than her scowl.
Once sat, Smurf wrapped her arms around her, nudging the towel back open, and resting her chin on Nat's shoulder.
"Sweetheart, I want you to meet someone," she guided to look at the man across from her. He was handsome at first glance, golden hair, golden skin. But his eyes, a piercing blue, lacked any glint of kindness he forced his smile to have.
"This is my dear friend, Ezra Reynolds. Ezra, this is who I was telling you about before. Natalia. Isn't she beautiful?"
"Stunning, just like her mother."
Natalia pursed her lips into the sexy smile said mother had taught her to do. The armor of a lioness she called it. It hid the uneasy feeling that grew in her stomach. One quick glance at Shannon told her she wasn't going to be receiving any help in this conversation, too busy giggling as Richard poured tequila into her mouth. Baz was also shooed away by his own mom after handing her a new drink. Natalia watched his retreat back to the edge of the pool where Pope waited in the shallow end. A young Craig was attempting to climb his shoulders. His gaze was already anticipating hers. It was solid and unyielding. Some described it as intense or even freakish, but, to Natalia, it was steady, like a lighthouse guiding to sanctuary.
"You've held onto childish things long enough, baby," a low whisper broke her into thoughts. Smurf squeezed her shoulders before slipping a glass into her hand. "Time to leave it behind."
~~~
16 cigarette butts filled an old coffee can with sand that was placed on top of an old wooden crate used as a table in the alley of The Drop. Natalia counted the discolored nubs until she reached 16 and back to one. Again and again. Her own cigarette rested between her knuckles. Her phone was cold in her lap after her conversation with the lawyer.
"Employees usually use the back patio," a voice above her noted. She didn't glance over at Deran as he leaned against some old kegs. Nicotine burned down her throat and into her lungs.
"I'm not an employee."
"Not yet."
Nat finally looked up to see the blond raising his brows with a subtle smile. She chuckled despite herself before rubbing her brow.
"Why am I talking to her lawyer instead?" Nat growled into the phone, the noise of the bar fading slightly as she slid into the alley.
"You said you wanted to talk?" Deran prompted as he lit his own cigarette. Natalia was there the first time Craig ever tried one. She wondered briefly when Deran picked up the habit.
"She had a suspicion you wouldn't pick up for her," Ms. Wilson chuckled in response. "She correct?"
The muffled roar of conversation was heard from around the corner as someone left the bar. Natalia grasped at the interruption for the few seconds that she could still delay.
"Deran, my name is Natalia Reed."
"Ok?"
"My mother's name was Shannon Reed. She was," Natalia took a deep breath. Deran's face dropped into a neutral position. "She was foster sisters with Smurf. You and I have met before. I would visit when my mom and I were town, even lived with you for a little bit when you were little."
Nat avoided his eyes while she took a drag. There was a small shuffle as he stood straight.
"Oh."
Hesitantly, Natalia peered through the smoke up at him. "Oh?"
"Fuck. I remember you."
"You do?"
"I mean, yea, barely. We, uh, we burnt the shit out of some cinnamon rolls one time, right?"
Natalia snorted with laughter. "That's what you remember?"
"Well, that and my brothers following you around all the time."
There was a lull as Nat stood, brushing off her thighs, and extinguishing her cig underneath her foot. She hummed softly. That was a far, distant memory.
"Did Smurf put you up to this?" Deran accused, his mouth now turned into a deep frown. "She needed a way in here, and she's using you to keep an eye on me?"
"No, Deran. God, no. I swear I didn't know who you were until Craig came barreling in the other day and it clicked."
"So what do you want?" his anger stayed at the surface and Nat didn't try quell that. Hell, she has been angry for years because of Smurf. She could only imagine the shit she's put onto her son.
Natalia shrugged, her shoulders heavy and tired.
"A job?" she chuckled dryly.
"No way," he scoffed.
"Deran, please."
"You look like you've got money. Why do you need this anyway?"
"Because I need something of my own. Something that's fucking far, far away from my dead husband or my old life. You know what that feels like, right? Why else would you have this place? Last I remember, Smurf had your entire life planned out."
"You're right, this is mine. So if I hear one whisper about you and Smurf--"
"I want absolutely nothing to do with your mother."
"Seems like one hell of a coincidence."
"I told you because I realized the coincidence. I needed you to know before we started working together. I'm not trying to pull one on you. I swear. Please."
Deran's eyes narrowed. He pulled a long drag of his cigarette before letting out a long sigh.
"She know you're in town?"
"She does."
"And my brothers? They know?"
Nat's fingers twitched for the pack in her pocket again but crossed her arms in defiance. "I don't know. She might have told them."
"Do you want me to?"
Natalia paused. Did she want him to tell them? She had been dangerously toeing the line since she entered the county, playing with the idea that running into them would be a lot easier than a planned meeting. That it wasn't her pure anger in avoiding them but her cowardness. A fear that she should fall back into the same trap she was in all those years ago once she saw Baz's crooked smile or Pope's hazel eyes.
"No, I'll deal with them on my own."
Daren slowly nodded and let his finished cigarette fall to the ground.
"If we do this, my family stays separate. They already know they're not allowed to bring their shit into my bar and you're not about to start either. Especially not with Smurf."
"Perfect. That's what I want, too."
Deran stepped closer, eyeing Nat down. She stood tall, arms crossed proudly.
"You know how to make a Manhattan?"
Natalia couldn't hold back the snort that erupted from her. "Do your customers drink Manhattans?"
Deran rolled his eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder against hers as he passed. "Shut up and follow me."
~ Fic recs for the year of 2025 Pt. 3 ~
- Pt. 2
By @blondwhxrewrites
Headcannon - Bob Reynolds x Reader ( Marvel )
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By @imagine-riding-dragons
Snotlout Jorgenson x Shy!Scarred!Reader ( How To Train Your Dragon )
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By @allzelemonz
Separated - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Pelt - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @jellyfishsthings
I Have A Grandchild - Jason Todd x Reader ( DC )
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By @zombeeyy
Leave Me - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @nerddface-has-moved
Cliche Sunsets - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Winning More Than Games ( Pt. 2 )
Decorum - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @literary-dolly
Pride & Prejudice - Jason Todd x Reader
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By @fromdove
Headcannon for social media in Gotham City ( DC )
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By @hswilli
Call Me Lou - Snotlout Jorgenson
The Perfect Lunch Date (Pt. 2)
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By @withering-daylight
Total Opposites - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @narnian-neverlander
Blurb - Jason Todd x Reader
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By @netflixbingger
Blurb - Cassian Andor x Reader ( Star Wars )
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By @randomfandomworks
Shared Realizations - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @togenabi
Pick Me Up - Roronoa Zoro x Reader ( One Piece )
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By @dance-is-life27
Waiting, Wanting - Parker Robbins x Reader ( Marvel )
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By @twoheartedfool
Silly Drawings - Scott Miller x Reader ( Twisters )
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By @devinescribe
Comfort Crowd - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Misunderstanding - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @maaeveeee
Hookfangs Pick - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Where The Fire Doesn't Burn Me - Snotlout Jorgenson
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
Oneshot - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @theshiniestgemstone
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader ( The Righteous Gemstones )
The Tour Guide - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Sleeping Beauty - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Pomp & Circumstance - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
The Babysitter - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
Oneshot - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
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By @mirrored-muse
Be My Baby - Gideon Gemstone x Reader
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By @violetcamryn
Crazy For You (Pt. 1) - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @thebeast-dennis-etcetera
Dream Fever - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader ( NCIS )
There For You - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader
Baby Thoughts - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader
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By @etclouie
Oneshot - Tony Dinozzo x Reader ( NCIS )
Number - Tony Dinozzo x Reader
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By @iamyourdailydoseofbi
My Girl, My Girl - Cregan Stark x Blackwood!Reader ( House Of The Dragon )
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By @saintlestial
Congratulations In Order - Tony Dinozzo x Reader
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By @slutforsilverfoxes
Breaking Free - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader
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By @multifandomfix
Clause And Effect - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader
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By @storiesofsvu
Prince Charming - Tony Dinozzo x Reader
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By @passionwillow
Don't You Leave Me - Leroy "Jethro" Gibbs x Reader
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By @alisonsfics
Jealousy, Jealousy - Tony Dinozzo x Reader
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By @lewispullmanfanblog
Parkers Not Supposed To Have Favorites, He Does Anyway - Parker Robbins x Reader
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By @warmlyregarded
Baby I'm Yours - Johnny Storm x Reader ( Marvel )
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By @zzombiebites
Rings, Snotlout - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @sins-write-tragedies
More Than Fire - Johnny Storm x Reader
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By @warfaredoll
Better Distractions - Elliott x Reader ( Warfare ) - ! ABOUT ACTOR NOT CHARACTER !
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By @ssweeterthanfiction
Blabbermouth - Johnny Storm x Reader
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By @bradleybeachbabe
Music - Tommy x Reader ( Warfare )
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By @unkindnessesofone
Gravitational - Elliott x Reader
Rounding First - Tommy x Reader
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By @heart-eyed-love
Grouch - Eddie Munson x Reader ( Stranger Things )
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By @desvyn
Blurb - Rafe Cameron x Reader ( It's multifandom but I read it as Rafe )
Blurb - Rafe Cameron x Reader ( Outer Banks ) - Another multifandom
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By @lazysoulwriter
Mr. Bedtime - Clark Kent x Reader ( DC )
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By @deletedscenegirl
Snap - Snotlout Jorgenson x Reader
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By @
Thank you so much for including me! 🫶
𝞋𝞎 ─────── 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
pairing: rick grimes x reader
summary: the governor seems to have taken you hostage because of his last conversation with rick. but only if he knew that taking you was the worst thing he could have done.
warnings: swearing, gore, violence, kidnapping, angst, torture, yelling, descriptions of injury & blood, weapons use, death and a bit of possessiveness (from rick)
word count: 4.0 k
𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄.
Not even when his dead ex—wife Lori was about to give birth and they didn't have a place for her to deliver the baby. And not when the farm was burning down and they were on the road for months, starving, desperate, barely hanging on.
But this was different. This was you.
You, who had been by his side since he met you. You, who saw through the cracks in his armor, who never flinched when he fell apart behind closed doors. You, who held Judith like she was your own, whispering soft reassurances when the nights were too quiet, too dangerous.
You, who stood beside him, gun in hand, every single time, ready to protect your family. You, who made him believe—if only for a second—that there was something worth surviving for.
And now you were gone.
His hands were trembling, but he clenched them into his fists, multiple times out of anger, as the quietness of the prison enveloped him. Perhaps, it was too quiet.
Not the calming kind of the quiet, but the kind of quiet that settled deep into Rick's chest and squeezed, making it hard for him to even breathe.
He could feel everyone’s eyes on him—Daryl, Hershel, Glenn, Carol, Maggie, Michonne, Tyreese—but he didn't care. All he cared about was you and the thought of you being alone, out there with him, the Governer, made him sick to his fucking core.
“We need to go. Now.” His voice was rough, strained, and held a barely restrained edge of panic.
“Rick.” Hershel’s voice was calm and firm but all Rick heard was the static buzzing in his ears. “You’re no good to her like this.”
Rick’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it. We don’t have time. Every second we waste, she’s—” He cut himself off, his throat tightening painfully. He couldn’t say it. “I ain’t sittin’ here, not while she’s out there with him.”
Daryl shifted beside him, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes dark and unreadable. “Ain’t sayin’ we don’t go after her.” He said, voice low and even. “But we go in half—cocked, we’re in trouble. She needs us alive.”
Rick swiped a hand over his face, the stubble scraping his palm. His breath was coming too fast, too shallow. The thought of you—hurt, trapped—sent something ugly clawing inside his chest. He couldn’t let himself picture it. Couldn’t let himself feel it.
“She ain’t got time.” He said, his voice quieter now but no less desperate. “We gotta go now. We don’t wait. I ain’t lettin’ that son of a bitch keep her another second.”
His gaze flicked around the group, searching for any hesitation, any sign of doubt. He started walking, his hand on his rifle, his jaw clenched and a fire in his eyes. He was about to open the cell door to leave when a figure appeared in front of him.
Michonne appeared in front of him, her katana strapped to her back, staring him in the eyes.
“Michonne.” Rick gritted out, staring at her furiously. “Move.”
Michonne didn’t budge. “You can’t just walk out there alone.”
Rick’s nostrils flared, his grip tightening on the strap of his rifle. “I ain't askin’.”
Maggie, standing with her arms crossed, exchanged a look with Glenn, worry plain on her face. “Rick, we all want her back. But we go in now, we’re walkin’ into a slaughter.”
Rick didn't turn around but his chest heaved. He knew they were right, but logic didn’t matter in his mind—not when it came to you. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t breathe right.
“She’s tough.” Carol said softly, stepping forward. “She’s strong. She’s holdin’ on. And we are gonna get her back, Rick.”
Rick shook his head and stumbled back. “I shoulda’ been there.” He muttered under his breath. “Shoulda’—shoulda’ protected her.”
His voice cracked, and his shoulders tensed when he realised you weren't there in that moment to put a hand on his shoulder and reassure him.
Daryl clapped a hand on his shoulder instead and Rick flinched at the unfamiliar warmth from his hand. “We’re gonna fix it. But you gotta keep your head, aight?”
Rick closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. “I need her back. I can’t—” He stopped, his throat tightening again. “We move out at sunrise. No longer.”
And if anyone had a problem with it, they could fucking stay behind for all he cares.
A dull throbbing pain echoes through your skull, dragging you out of your unconsciousness. A bright light immediately hit your eyes and your head lolled to the side, immediately squinting your eyes when a sharp sting stabbing your temple, where dried blood lay.
You shifted more and your felt the cold bite of the chair, sending a shiver up your spine. Your froze and tried to move more, only to realise that your eyes were tied behind your back.
A low groan escaped your lips as you blinked, your vision swimming in and out of focus. There was a dim light above you, casting a dark shadow across the room and then you saw him.
The Governor.
He sat on a chair, in the corner, legs crossed watching you with amusement gleaming in his one eye. “Look who’s finally awake.” He drawled. “I was startin’ to think you wouldn’t make it.”
You swallowed, tasting copper in your mouth and rolled your jaw, trying to relieve the pain. “Sorry to disappoint.” You muttered, voice hoarse. “Hope you dint’ miss me too much.”
The Governor chuckled. “I knew Rick had a thing for the feisty ones.”
Your stomach churned at the mention of Rick, but you didn't show how it affected you and rolled your eyes. “That why you dragged me here? To talk about my love life? Aren't you a gossip girl?”
The Governor gritted his teeth, irritation flicking through his eyes as he stood up, walking towards you. “Actually, darlin’, I brought you here, not only because Rick defied my orders and now I'm teaching him a lesson, but I wanted to see if that smart mouth of yours would hold up after a few. . . reminders.”
“Well sorry to break it to you, darlin’,” You tilted your head and smirked. “But you're not as scary as you think.”
It seemed he didn't like that very much by his fist connecting to your right cheek. Your head snapped to the side and blood dripped from your lip. You let out a ragged breath and your turned your head to face him again, a smirk still playing on your lips.
“Is that really how hard you can go?” You rasped out. “Rick hits harder.”
His eye twitched and his fist flew at your face again, and again, making your vision blur. Your ears were ringing and you were swimming in and out and focus but you refused to let yourself break. Not in front of him. Not ever.
You tasted the sweet but salty metallic taste of blood in your mouth again but you swallowed it down and a weak laugh erupted from your mouth, making the Governor's jaw to clench in irritation.
“You're fucking weak.” You slurred, earning another punch to your face. Your head snapped to the side and you tilted your head back. “Come on, really? I thought you were like, the big bad wolf.”
“You never know when to shut up, do you?” He snapped, his voice low.
“Not when I'm having this much fun.” You smiled fakely and met his gaze head on.
His hand shot out, grabbing your chin in a bruising grip, forcing your head back. “You think this is fun?” He sneered, tightening his fingers on your jaw. “Let's see how fun it will be when Rick watches in front of his very eyes as I kill you.”
He let go of your jaw and pushed your head backwards. You pouted mockingly and frowned at him. “Are you sure you want to kill me when I have this pretty face?”
Another punch landed on your face because of your comment and your head snapped to the side once again. You whistled and you used most of your strength to loll you head back so you were facing him.
“You're getting really worked up.” You pointed out, amusement gleaming in your eyes. You then took notice of his knuckles that were now dripping blood. “You should really go and clean that up before it gets any worse. You know, don't want your blood mixing with mine. That's so unhygienic.”
There was obvious sarcasm in your voice but the Governor didn't seem to comment or do anything about it. His jaw clenched and a chuckle escaped his mouth. “I can't wait till’ I wipe that grin off your fucking face.”
“Good luck, darlin’.” You called out mockingly as he walked towards the door.
“Let's hope Rick hurries,” He said over his shoulder and then turned to look at you. His eyes roamed over your bloody face but they landed on your bare thighs. “I’d hate for him to find you in worse shape.”
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you in the dimly lit room. You let out a shaky breath eyes flickering to your bare thighs, no trousers, only thing protecting was your underwear.
A cold shiver went down your spine as the weight of his words draped over you like a blanket. Your breath hitched but you refused to show fear — the sick bastard wanted that.
And you would never give him what you wanted.
Swallowing, you shifted in your chair, testing the tightness of the ropes around the wrists. Your jaw clenched as the ropes didn't give in, not even a little. A frustrated sigh erupted from you and you eventually gave up, trying to free your hands.
You looked around, trying to look for something to help you out but there was absolutely nothing in sight for you to use. You couldn’t even use the chair to help you because it was metal. What the fuck?
Sighing, you slumped back into your chair and dropped your head forward. You shut your eyes closed and tried to steady your breathing but you only had one thought one thing in your mind.
Rick, please hurry.
Rick’s hands moved with precise precision, loading rounds into his rifle. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark with anger as he loaded a magazine in his pocket.
There was no way in hell he was waiting until sunrise.
His breath was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears as his hands moved with urgency. The thought of you out there, alone, with him—it made his chest tighten, made his fingers curl a little too tightly around the rifle in his hands. Every second that passed felt like another knife twisting in his chest.
He needed you. Now.
He put down the rifle and grabbed his revolver, slipping it into his holster, when a voice cut through the quiet night.
“You didn't think that you would go without us, did you?”
Rick froze, fingers hovering over the rifle. Slowly, he looked up, his sharp blue eyes finding the rest of them. Standing there was Michonne with her arms crossed and her katana resting easily on her side.
Daryl, with his crossbow already in his hand, a knowing look on his face like he already expected this. Glenn stood next to him, a rifle slung over his shoulder, a tense but resolute expression on his face. Maggie stood behind him, arms crossed and Tyreese stood next to her, nodding at Rick firmly.
Rick sighed, running a hand down his stubble. “Knew I couldn’t slip out without you noticing, huh?”
Glenn stepped forward with a tired smile. “We knew you’d try and sneak off while we were sleeping.”
Daryl huffed, stepping forward with Glenn. “Ain’t your fight alone, man.”
Rick exhaled, nodding, his glaze flickering between all of them. He didn’t necessarily like leaning on others but right now he was very grateful. He swallowed before looking over at them once again.
“Where’s Carol?” He asked gruffly, reaching for his holster.
“She’s stayin’ back.” Maggie answered. “Lookin’ after Judith and Carl with my daddy. Said someone had to keep things together here while we go.”
Rick nodded again, putting the rifle strap over his shoulder. He couldn't argue with that. Carol was smart—she knew what had to be done. But right now, he wasn't focused on that.
“Alright,” Rick said, his voice firm. “Let's go.”
And as they moved through the prison, Rick only had one thing in mind. The Governer had you. And Rick was coming for him.
Rick had been angsty the entire drive to Woodbury. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his knuckles turned white as he sped down the road. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal was his other leg shaked.
The truck engine roared in response of going faster but Rick didn’t care. All that was on his mind was you.
Michonne had looked at him and had told him to calm down before he drives them all into a ditch. Her exact words.
Her words didn’t exactly help much but no one expected it to. He lost his mind when it came towards you and he was already too far gone. The only thing that was keeping him afloat was that he would deliver you home, safely, in his arms.
However, his mind drifted off to the negatives that made his chest close up. If he couldn't find you. If he touched you—
Rick’s nostrils flared from where he was walking down one of the corridors of the Governor’s house. Explosions were going off in the background which was Glenn and Maggie’s doing.
Footsteps followed behind him as he kicked one of the doors open and quickly looked inside to see if you were there. He repeated the same process for a few more doors down and panic clawed in his chest when he saw you weren’t in any of them.
Shit. Where were you—
“Rick! She's in ‘ere!”
Rick ran the fastest he could in his life. He had his gun raised if anyone else was in the room but the gun in his hand slowly clattered on the floor as he took you in. It felt like as if time slowed.
The sight of you nearly took him to his knees in despair.
Slumped in a chair, all bruised and bleeding. His hands trembled as he roamed his eyes all over you, taking in every cut and every bruise. Your head hung forward, your face swollen and battered and a trail of blood ran down your temple. Your trousers were gone, leaving you in your underwear.
He crossed the room in three long strides, falling to his knees before you with a shaky exhale. His hands were cradling your face with such gentleness that you wouldn't even know that he was angry, if you didn't see the violence in his eyes.
“Oh God,” He murmured, his voice breaking as he stroked your cheek, where dry blood was. “I'm ‘ere, sweetheart, I'm ‘ere.”
At his touch, your eyelids slowly opened and you smiled weakly as you saw him in front of you. “Fucking finally.”
At your words, Rick let out a weak laugh as Daryl worked on untying the ropes behind your back. He pressed a long kiss against your temple and he shut his eyes as he felt tears coming to them. “I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry.”
Once Daryl got your ropes undone, you winced and rolled your shoulders from being in that position for so long. Rick’s hands were on you again, checking you for any more injuries he missed. His eyes landed on your thighs and if possible, his eyes darkened even more as he saw bruises litter all over your thighs to your legs.
He lifted his eyes up to yours but this time, his voice was low and dangerous. “Did he touch you?”
You shook you head, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Not like that. Dickhead just used his fists.”
Rick let out a shuddering breath and took off his jacket, placing it on your legs before picking you up bridal style, making sure you were comfortable.
Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard explosions going on outside, and you craned your head to look up at Rick as he carried you. “Why do I hear explosions?”
Rick walked down the dimly lit corridor, with you in his arms and the rest following behind him, weapons ready. “That's Glenn, sweetheart.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you racked your brain for a ‘Glenn’. “Our Glenn? Pizza delivery guy, Glenn?”
Daryl gave you a look as he walked beside Rick, crossbow in hand. “You kno’ any other Glenn, sunshine?”
You shrugged. “Glen Powell.”
“I think he might be dead by now, sweetheart.” Rick huffed out a laugh as he turned to walk down another corridor. However, the laugh abruptly stopped when he saw there was door at the end of the corridor, a few metres away from where they were supposed to leave.
His eyes darkened, the reminder of what happened to you but then he looked down at you. You looked up at him, somehow knowing what he was thinking and nodded.
Rick took that as consent and gently handed you over to Daryl, who put his crossbow on his back and carried you in his arms. Rick kissed your forehead and you murmured a ‘be safe’ to him.
“Get her out of here. Keep her safe.” Daryl nodded at Rick and left through the exit, towards the outside. Everyone else followed him except Michonne, who looked at him.
“You need help?” Michonne asked and Rick immediately shook his head.
“Nah, need to do this myself.” He gritted out and walked towards the door. He kicked the door open, seeing the back of the Governor and he felt something indescribable rise in him.
I found you, you son of a bitch.
The Governor barely had time to register what was happening before Rick slammed him against the wall, his forearm pressing hard against his throat. The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the corner, casting shadows across Rick’s face and the Governor almost shuddered.
He looked like he came out a fucking nightmare.
“What the hell were you going to do with her?” Rick growled, his voice low, and trembling with barely restrained fury. His eyes were wild, his face inches away from the Governor’s. “You sick son of a bitch.”
The Governor smirked, his one good eye locking onto Rick’s. “She put up a fight, I’ll give her that,” He rasped, his voice dripping with something vile. “But I was just getting started.”
Rick snapped.
His fist connected with the Governor’s face so fast and so hard that there was a sickening crack. The Governor’s head snapped to the side, blood splattering against the wall, but he wasn’t done. Not even close.
He punched him again. And again, until he fell to the floor and Rick straddled him and carried on punching him.
“You touched her?” Rick’s voice was ragged, broken, each word punctuated with another punch. “You thought you could lay a fucking hand on her?”
The Governor’s head lolled to the side, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, but Rick didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. All he could see was you, tied up, bruised, bleeding, and he suddenly went rogue.
Rick’s hands curled around the Governor’s throat, pressing down, his breathing ragged and uneven. His fingers dug into the flesh, cutting off his air, and for a moment, all that existed was the sound of the Governor’s choking gasps and the blood roaring in Rick’s ears.
“I should kill you slow.” Rick seethed, his teeth bared in a snarl. His grip only tightened, his thumbs pressing harder into the man's windpipe. “Make you suffer for what you did to her.”
The Governor clawed weakly at Rick’s arms, his face turning red, then purple. But Rick didn’t feel mercy—not for this sick son of a bitch.
“You don’t get to live.” Rick hissed, his eyes cold, empty. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind screaming at him to finish it, to make sure this shithead never laid eyes on you again.
Surprisingly, he went against his mind and got off the Governer when he heard walkers banging on the door from all the noise inside. He walked towards the door, ignoring the Governor's wheezes behind him.
“However, you don't deserve to have a quick death.” Rick stared the man in the eyes as he pulled open the door, allowing the herd of walkers to enter. The Governor’s eyes widened as he saw what Rick had done and started to scramble away.
Rick hid himself behind the door so he could watch as the walkers walked towards the smell of blood, but hidden enough so they couldn't see him.
He felt a sense of pride when the Governor let out a scream when a walker took a bite out of his arm. The Governor looked at Rick and only saw coldness in his eyes and as he walked away, he started to realise one thing.
He really shouldn’t have fucked with Rick Grimes.
Rick admired you as you slept on his lap, in the backseats of the car. Daryl was driving and Michonne was in the passenger seat. Maggie, Glenn and Tyreese were in car behind them.
His fingers gently ran through your hair as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. God, even with cuts and bruises littering your face, you were still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life.
He gently tucked you more into the blanket, making sure you don’t get cold. Because of his action, you stirred and your eyes flickered open slowly.
He noticed and started to gently run his fingers through your hair again. “I’m here,” He said softly, his voice breaking through the quiet of the vehicle. “I’ve got you. Just rest.”
There was something about his tone that made you believe him and you rested back onto his lap, eyes looking up at him. He smiled and rested his hand on your cheek, stroking it softly.
You smiled back, leaning into his hand and your eyes fluttered closed. You let out a breathy sigh and your eyes flutter open again, something like vulnerability in your eyes. “Did you. . .?”
Rick nodded before you could finish and you let out a sigh of relief and took his hand that was stroking your hair and pressed a kiss on the back of it. “Thank you.”
“He had it comin’,” He replied, interlocking your fingers with his. “Shouldn’ have took what was mine.”
You chuckle and then it is silence for a few moments. “How bad do I look?”
“Exactly the same.” He said, smiling at you gently. “Left looking like the most gorgeous girl in the world, came back looking like the most gorgeous girl in the world.”
You rolled your eyes, but still smiled at him. “I love you.”
“Love ya’ more, sweetheart.” He replies and then starts to stroke his fingers through your hair once again. “Go back to sleep. I'll wake ya’ up when Hershel checks on you.”
You nod, exhaling through your nose softly and fluttering your eyes shut. A few minutes later, your sound asleep again, cuddling up on Rick’s lap.
He watches you for a few more moments, his hand still gently brushing over your hair, careful not to wake you. There’s a softness in his eyes that he shows around you, what the others haven't seen in a while.
You shifted in your sleep, nuzzling more into his chest and his arms instinctively tighten around you. He let out a shaky breath and rested his chin on top of your head. His mind travel to tonight’s events before he realised that none of that mattered.
All that mattered was you being in his arms and the steady of your breathing. And as the car drove back to the prison, Rick Grimes made a vow to protect you as long as he shall live.
Because without you, a piece of him was missing.
rick in this omg 😍
Damn, this was good. The perfect fic to put me back on my Rick Grimes bullshit.
i got it — clark kent ⋆౨ৎ˚
꩜ pairing ━━ clark kent x hyper independent!gf
꩜ summary ━━ you tell clark “i got it.” so many times and he is sick of it.
꩜ content ━━ 2.3k words | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader almost has a full blown a panic attack, clark is super duper sweet, reader has… issues but she’s just human <3
꩜ a/n ━━ i wrote this with a plus size in mind but it’s very appearance friendly! and clark being absolutely obsessed with her. might be a smidge little self indulgent im sorry </3 might also have grammatical errors! this is so personal to me i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i liked writing it 🫶
as always comments are very deeply appreciated ♡
masterlist | navi
Clark knows you can take care of yourself.
It's one of the things he admires about you. You and your stubbornness, you and your inability to let people help. You, oh you, who is too scared to let Clark all the way in. So unconsciously, you don’t let him do anything for you, including something small as opening the car door.
Clark finds this out on your first date together.
And boy, you never thought you would be on a date with Clark Kent.
You did imagine it (more than you would like to admit) I mean how could you not? This hulking, tall, 6 '4 broad man that looks like he can throw you around turned out to be the most gentle person you have ever met.
It’s hard not to form a crush.
“I had fun tonight.”
Clark now walks beside you to his car, his height looming and begging for attention. He sounds bashful, and when you turn your head to look at him, you could see how the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink with him staring down at you.
You softly smile, nervously meeting his eyes, “Me too.”
The walk wasn’t long, and before you could reach for the door handle of his car, his large palm had situated itself there.
You chuckle, “I got it. Thanks, Clark.” placing your hand on top of his to open the door.
Clark’s eyes widened with surprise, his cheeks dusting a light hue at the contact. He was also quite baffled at the fact that you didn’t want him to open the door for you.
He was raised to be a gentleman, opening doors isn’t anything new. Especially on dates. It’s mandatory for him.
He couldn’t even form complete thoughts as the car door opened, your fingers tightening on top of his. You slide in the passenger seat, throwing a cheeky grin at him. You didn’t even let him close the door for you, as you shut it by yourself.
Clark stood outside in the cold night air, staring at you from the window. He cannot believe that just happened.
For once in his life, he didn’t open the door for his date.
The same thing happened when he dropped you off at your apartment. You didn’t even think twice before opening the car door yourself as Clark scrambled out of his seat, racing to open it before you did.
He failed.
But it’s okay, cause you’re pretty and you smell nice, and you’re wearing this giddy smile, eyes a little tired but still sparkling. He stared down at you, with a matching grin and twinkling eyes.
A moment passed, “See you tomorrow?” Clark dumbly asks.
You nod and bite your lip, tummy flipping with excitement and nerves, “See you tomorrow, Clark.”
.
.
.
The past few weeks of seeing Clark has been…nice. He’s sweet, thoughtful and very nice to look at. So when accidentally you snapped at him, you were sure he didn’t want to see you ever again.
The summer heat is nipping at your skin, you had been stressing out about the printer since morning, the ancient machine that the Daily Planet has kept in store for ‘memories’ will be the death of you.
“Fuck— fucking stupid machine, shit—“
“You need some help there?”
You jump at the sudden voice, butterflies appearing in your stomach as you realise who it belonged to.
“This thing is pissing me off.” you grumble, not even looking at Clark, too busy glaring at the printer in front of you.
The man chuckles, leaning against the wall with hands tucked in his pants pockets as his eyes shamelessly trails over your figure.
“You look pretty.” he absentmindedly said.
The sudden compliment made you freeze your banging on the machine. Finally turning to meet his eyes, with a few strands of hair covering your vision. You tucked them behind your ear.
Because of your frustration at the machine, the small printing room has gotten more hot, which made you more agitated. So, you had put your hair up in a very messy bun, hair coming out in all sorts of directions, two buttons on your top were undone, giving Clark a nice view of your collarbone and a tiny glimpse of your cleavage. He swallowed hard as you fully turned to him.
"I'm a mess." you chuckle, hand resting on your full hips, head tilting to the side.
You look hot and bothered, your cheeks a little pink, your smile is teasing, and your hips are tantalising him. It's making his brain short circuit.
You, successfully making Superman weak in the knees.
He shrugs, hand scratching the back of his neck and awkwardly coughs, "My statement still stands."
Huffing, you face the machine again, "Go back to work Clark, or did you come here just to bother me?"
Clark moves inside the tiny room, his huge figure taking in half of the capacity. You could feel his body heat as he comfortably stood behind you, looking over your shoulder. Stomach flipping when you feel his slow and steady breathing.
"Do you know what's wrong with it?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?" you accidentally snapped, eyes widening in horror. Oh no, he's going to hate you. "Sorry. I'm just annoyed and it's so hot in here and—“
His deep laugh stops you from continuing, "It's alright," he shakes his head, "I shouldn't have stressed you out more."
You sigh, guilt eating up your senses. You liked having here with you. He brings a sense of comfort, safety, calmness. He doesn't deserve your little outburst.
Clark sensed the air getting thicker with tension, so he clears his throat, backing up from your personal space, "I can call Jimmy to help you out-"
"It's okay, I got it." you rushed out. Hand clutching tightly at the edge of the printer. You cannot fail this. Don't embarrass yourself.
Clark nodded awkwardly, lingering on the door for a second too long, gazing at you with a certain look before hesitantly leaving you in your little room.
As you hear his footsteps retract, your shoulders slumped in relief, the guilt never once leaving your system.
"Stupid fucking machine."
.
.
.
Turns out Clark doesn’t hate you.
You have been going steady and now have created a little routine. The grocery runs has been fun, a routine that you two have made after 1 month of dating. Restocking in your respective place every first Saturday of the month, has been consistent.
“Aw, you two lovebirds are too cute.” the cashier complimented, “You match each other very well.”
Your cheeks turn warm, hands occupied by putting the groceries in the bags. Glancing at Clark to see his reaction, your stomach flutters when you see his adorable dimples. A shy smile stretching over his face.
He clears his throat, “Thank you, ma’am.” eyes shifting to yours. Fond, warm, and very much in a daze.
You quietly giggled, sending the cashier a quick smile before leaving the store.
Clark falls in step beside you, nudging your shoulder, “She said we look like we’re made for each other.” he shyly muttered.
You raised your eyebrows, glancing at him from the side, “She didn’t say all of that.” you smirk.
He shrugs, “I filled in the blanks.” his voice soft.
Your heart stutters.
Two heavy recycle bags settle in your arms as you try to balance them using your hips. Clark immediately took note of your fidgeting, and quickly moved his hand to grab the bottom of the bags, helping you stabilise yourself.
“Clark, I got it.” you grumble.
The tall man sighed, almost ripping the bags out of your hands. If anyone looked for too long it was like he was trying to steal them.
“I know you do, sweetheart,” he deeply sighed, fingers pressing against his eyebrows, “but I can do it. Do you see these guns?” he jokes, flexing his biceps close to your face. You laughed. He’s so silly.
Clark was also carrying his 2 bags of groceries, which is why you do not want him to carry yours. It’s yours. Why would you inconvenience him?
But Clark was adamant, Clark’s other fingers securely tucked in near your wrist where the bag handle is.
You playfully roll your eyes, “Back off, Kent.”
He gasps— loud, dramatic and offended, “I can’t believe you just called me Kent.”
You affectionately rolled your eyes and pushed past him, almost sprinting to the car so that he couldn’t keep up.
Oh, but Clark definitely could.
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly at how stubborn you are. But you’re already opening the back trunk, organising your bags in. He underestimated your dedication, sighing softly with a giddy smile on his face, definitely his girl.
.
.
.
This particular day has been awful.
You’re suffering from writer's block and can’t find to type out any good comments and sentences. Everything you created sounded bleak, bland, boring and Perry has been waiting for a piece from you for days.
When he came to your desk, you gave him a thousand apologies, and Perry looked at you sadly… disappointed, if you would add.
“Should I give this to Cat to cover?”
“No!” you stood up abruptly, chair squeaking and making a few heads turn to you. You could feel a pair of specifically worried eyes on your back, “I got it. I promise. I will have this ready by tomorrow.”
Perry sighed, head nodding slowly, “Alright kid, I trust your abilities but tomorrow is final.” he stated, walking away.
You gripped the edge of your table, fingers twitching and heart suddenly pounding in your chest, “Fuck.” your breathing starts to pick up.
No, no, no. Please, not now.
Your feet moved before you could think and Clark was up on his feet the second he could hear your uneven breathing. Going to the only place he knows you would go.
The air on the roof is cold, the sky is so blue it reminds you of someone. But your chest starts to tighten, your vision starts to blur and sweat is forming behind your neck and hairline.
“Please, please–” sobs start to wreck your body, and your feet are now all wobbly.
Clark could hear everything from the elevator and it made his stomach drop and eyebrows furrow, as he fidgeted in the small metal box, “Why is it moving so slow—” he angrily muttered to himself, fingers aggressively pressing the button level repeatedly. Not caring the weird stares people are giving him.
The rooftop door violently swung open, so hard it almost flew off its hinges and you knew immediately who was on the other side.
“Clark, leave me alone.” you turn, not letting him see you. Your voice sounded so small, it tore his heart in two and he’s supposed to be indestructible.
He takes small steps closer to you, “I’m sorry, pretty, but there is no way I’m leaving you up here alone.”
"I got it, it's okay." your voice trembles, lips quivering.
Clark huffed, standing straighter, "No." he clenched his jaw, he sounded... angry.
You glance at him through your teary eyes, "What–?"
"Stop saying that line."
You scoff, "What line?"
Clark stares at you with wide eyes, like the audacity of you to even question that insane, "Your 'I got it' line."
Your stomach drops as your sniffling continues.
He deeply breathes out, moving to stand directly behind you, hands placed on your hips to turn you to face him fully. His thumbs softly caressing your shirt covered waist.
He leaned down, eyes trying to meet yours, "Look at me." he softly mutters.
Your eyes were fixated on the floor for a couple more seconds before they met his ones. Him and his soft, apologetic, blue eyes. Your breathing slows down.
He stares at you for a moment, searching, evaluating, you don’t even know.
But you would never guess what he was going to say.
"I. Got. You." he states, a pause in between every word. It wasn’t an opinion, it wasn't a joke, it's a statement. A fact. Like the nature of it is embedded in him, "Okay?"
Your lips wobbled, nose twitching and a new fresh of tears making their appearance on your eye line. Panicked eyes staring into his ones, trying to come into terms in what he just uttered out of his mouth.
"I will be here, with you." Clark continues, his hand now moving up to brush your falling tears away, "You can try to push me away but you need to call some reinforcements because I am not budging. You understand me?"
Slowly your arms moves to wrap around him, head tucking in his warm chest. "You got me?" your voice hoarse, his heart sinks seeing you tightly shut your eyes and hearing the hesitance in your tone.
His big arms wrapped tightly around your frame, hands softly caressing your back, "Of course, sweetheart. Always."
“Thank you.”
“My baby.” he sighs, emotional and heavy. His head tucking in your neck as he holds you tighter, “No need to thank me.”
“You make me feel so safe.” your trembling voice continues, a new wave of tears making you choke up.
Clark’s stomach flutters and drops at the same time.
For the strongest man alive, he sure feels pretty useless right now.
Because what has happened before that made you need to say that outloud? He thought it was given? He’s your boyfriend?
He doesn’t dwell on it for long, “I can help you with your paper.” he suggests, pulling your face out of his chest, his large hand on your jaw, thumb softly brushing your skin.
“Clark—“
“I swear to God if you say—“
You giggled. Clark’s eyes widens at your beautiful voice, goosebumps appearing on his skin.
“I was gonna say, ‘Yes, I would love your help’.” your voice turned down to a whisper, “Save me, Clark Kent.”
Clark grins, the tears are still in your eyes, some running down your cheeks but your eyes are a little bit brighter, your voice a little lighter, your breathing evening out and you’re still hugging him.
It makes him melt.
“I got you, baby. Don’t worry.”
Now Clark is making it his sole mission to take care of you.
reblog for a superman style kiss 😘
**sighs wistfully**
She's Here
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader
21.2k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: I know there’s not a supply closet on the floor plan but we’re pretending; took what I needed for the set up of PittFest from the show, storyline diverges once PittFest patients start arriving; angst; active suicide risk Robby; Robby has not been to therapy; miscommunications; Robby cries; Reader cries; suicidal ideation/suicide planning; allusions to PIV sex and oral (m. rec) sex; dry humping kind of; alcohol; joking use of daddy; mentions of blood; mentions of guns and shootings; breaking up; making up after argument; Robby puts his foot in his mouth; reader has some insecurities; grief; mentions of death/dying/coding; seizures; CPR; anxiety about partner's safety; mentions of compartmentalization; age gap kind of implied with Robby but not explicitly referenced (he's an attending when Reader starts as an intern); no use of y/n or related
Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed and doesn't react well.
AN: Based on this ask sent in by @loveyhoneydovey. First Robby fic!!!!! I don't know how I feel about it!! I'm very nervous about his voice and characterization here and if it feels like him. I'm always very nervous though. We get some development of your relationship through vignettes of the past like I've done before. Dividers made by the amazing @saradika-graphics. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments and as always thank you so much for reading!!
“We’re doing it.” Robby’s voice is just above a whisper as he walks in with Jack.
“That could mean one of several thousand things, Robby.” Jack glances at him. He keeps his voice hushed like Robby’s. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than ‘we’re doing it.’”
“Her and I,” Robby clarifies. “We’re together. It happened today. I’m taking her out tomorrow night.”
“About fucking time,” Jack mutters lowly. He claps Robby on the shoulder as they keep walking. “I’m really happy for you brother. For you both.”
“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Jack looks at Robby and raises his eyebrows while squinting a little, asking what Robby wanted instead. “I don’t know,” Robby shrugs, “I thought you’d have some more enthusiasm.”
“I do,” Jack nods, “but given your near whispering, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to express it right here in, you know, the middle of the entire fucking ED,” Jack’s dropped his voice even lower the further they’ve walked in, “because it seemed like maybe not everyone knew yet and I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me to be the one to tell them or make them starting asking even more questions.” He gives Robby a look for a second before softening it into a small smile and nodding at Robby.
You grin to yourself when you see Jack. You and Robby agreed that Dana and Jack had to know right away but that you wouldn’t tell Dana until Jack was here. You could tell that Dana knew something was up, though.
You walk by Robby and Jack on your way to Dana, smirk at them. “Boys.” You nod.
Robby lets out a long breath and shakes his head a little. He has no idea what to do with you sometimes, in the best way. Jack just smirks back at you a little, but softens it out just a bit at the end and nods to silently tell you he’s very happy for you.
You smile as you walk up to Dana, standing next to her as she looks up at the board. “We’re together,” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”
“About fucking time,” Dana whispers back. She gives you a sly smile and bumps your hip with hers. “I’m very happy for you, both of you.”
“Thank you,” you nod, making eye contact with Robby across the floor, “I am too.”
You stand up when you hear someone else enter the supply closet. You think it might be Dana coming to lovingly corner you and get info on how your date was. But it’s not her. It’s Robby. “Hey,” you call out to him.
“Hi.” His response is a little short and confuses you but you just let it go. He walks over so that he’s standing next to you. A respectable distance apart. Robby starts looking through the shelves but as you watch him it’s clear he’s not really actually looking for anything. “Heard you had a date last night.” His voice is strained, he sounds like he’s trying to hide some simmering anger. But you recognize it for what it really is. Jealousy.
You stop pulling the tubing you need from the shelf but don’t turn to look at him. How did he even know about that and why does he fucking care are the only two things you can really think about. He has no right to be mad. You and Robby have been dancing around each other for years now. At his behest. And at a certain point it felt like his reasoning for that changed.
After a couple of seconds you sigh. “I did yeah.”
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, mouth in a line. You have to roll your eyes at him as you pull out the tubing. “You sleep with him?”
You scoff and finally look over at him, but he’s still looking at the shelves. “I’m sorry, please tell me how the fuck that is even close to your business.”
Robby just pulls his lips down. Not sad per se but thinking. “So you did.”
You just want this conversation to be over at this point. Because it hurts. Because Robby has been and it seems always will be right there but unwilling or unable or not wanting to try being with you. “Yeah. Sorry I needed to get laid and actually went out and got it. You should fucking try it, Michael.” It’s not even a conscious decision, deciding to push him away first in this conversation, to try and act unaffected by the thought of him being with someone else.
He ignores your jabs, but the confirmation that you were with someone else makes his blood boil, jealousy ripping through him and clouding his thoughts. “You let him touch you. Touch what’s mine.”
“Ha!” you laugh. Then there’s ten or so seconds of silence as you gape at him while his words fully process because you’re so struck by his fucking audacity. “What’s yours? What’s fucking yours? Are you out of your fucking mind Michael? Please, since fucking when have I been yours?” He still doesn’t look at you. “Hey! Look at me, asshole!” You throw the tubing in your hand at him.
That gets him to turn and look at you with a scowl on his stupid handsome face. He knows that you’re not at all his. He can’t bring himself to admit it though. “Thought we were going to do this. Do us. When you’re an attending. Guess not.”
You have to laugh at his words again, exasperatedly this time. “No Michael. You don’t get to do this. I’ve wanted to do this. Do us. You are the one who hasn’t. And for a while I understood why, and even when I didn’t, I have always respected your feelings. It was you’re under me and ‘I don’t want to mess up your career or give you a reputation and have that impact us’ and ‘when you’re an attending’ that slowly seemed to turn into ‘I’m not sure if I want you anymore’ and ‘maybe when you’re an attending’ and I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to decide if you really didn’t want to do this, didn’t want me anymore, or if you were just trying to protect yourself or something. Because it went from when you’re an attending to maybe when. So why would I be waiting around anymore, Michael? I waited for years. And if it was just about me being under you and my career and people knowing I earned everything I got then why didn’t you come ask me out and say you were ready to do this the second I got offered and accepted an attending position?”
You swallow hard and have to look away from Robby. You’re so confused by him but still down so bad. Deep down you know him calling you his hit you so hard because you are. You have been. Even if he didn’t know and didn’t want you. You’d given yourself to him. But you won’t cry for him. Not here. Not at work. Not where everyone would know regardless of your explanation.
And Robby hates it. How sad you look. How you could ever possibly think he didn’t want to be with you. That he didn’t want you. He never realized at some point he’d said maybe. It was never maybe for him. But your last question floors him.
“When you what?” Robby whispers, face furrowed in confusion, lips pulled down even more.
You scoff at him again. “Don’t even try Robby. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t fucking know that in fucking August of last year I got offered an attending spot.” You look back over at him. Robby’s still facing you but his head is dropped slightly, eyes looking left and flicking around a little. He looks half confused and half devastated. “Holy shit, you really didn’t know. How the hell did you not know, Michael?”
He shakes his head slowly, still thinking. “Gloria and I were at each other’s throats particularly bad last August. Things were crazy here and she kept harping me about needing to interview and pick an attending and I snapped one day and told her that I didn’t even fucking care, that she could pick one for all I cared.” He looks up at you again. “I never thought she actually would. And she never told me that she actually did.”
You stare at him. It’s a plausible story and you can always tell when he’s lying to you or giving you a half truth or omitting something. And it’s not like you’ve told anyone. You’re one of those people who are afraid to announce it like it’ll jinx it somehow since it’s something that will start in the future. Your one exception to not saying anything was if you got with Robby. You’d tell people and let it be known because you figured it would appease some of his worries about it seeming like you got your job only because you were sleeping with him or in a relationship with him. But he never came to you after you signed. It broke your heart more than you wanted to admit.
You’re not sure how to respond and Robby’s not sure what else to say. “Well, she did. And it was me. So hopefully that’s not disappointing news to you, I guess.”
“Disappointing ne-” He decides part way through to not even finish the thought. Because the meaning of it all catches up with him. You have an attending position. And honestly, kind of even better, you have an attending position and Robby can honestly say he had absolutely no input into the decision. So while you’re not quite an attending yet, you’re pretty damn close. And that means Robby doesn’t have to break his own heart and tell you that you guys can’t. Doesn’t have to say when you’re an attending. For all intents and purposes you are one. “You can be mine now, Kid?” It’s almost a statement but not quite.
You nod a little, look down at your shoes. “If you want me, yeah.” Robby doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice this small and the fact that you think he could possibly not want you kills him.
“If I want you? If?” He’s quick to close the distance between you, hands at your waist and pulling you to him as he stops walking. Both of you are breathing heavier and after your eyes flit down to look at each other’s lips the tension between the two of you finally snaps.
You kiss each other hard, sliding right into tongue and sucking. Your arms wrap around Robby’s neck, hands finding his hair and running through it, tugging at it when he kisses you in a way you particularly like. Robby pulls away so you can see each other and you make a noise of protest. “There was never a maybe. And I’m sorry if I said that. There’s no if. Never has been, Kid. Never will be. So will you go out with me? Be mine?”
You smile at him, steal another kiss before nodding. “I’ll go out with you. And I’ll be yours as long as you’ll be mine.”
Robby laughs. The two of you are finally together. “Oh, I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.”
You and Robby have been together a little over four months now. You’re pretty much living with him, you just haven’t made it quite official yet. It still feels a bit soon, even for you. Your lease will be up around ten months of dating so you think that’s when you’ll make it official and completely move in. If he wants. You’re pretty sure he will. You always hear about it the next day if you don’t sleep in the same bed the previous night.
You’re not surprised when you wake up and the bed is empty, even if you are a little disappointed. You know this is a bad day for him. A hard day. You’ve never actually been with him or around him on this day before because until now he took it off and you always inevitably ended up working it. You’re not sure what changed for him and why he feels like he’s ready to be there and work today and you’re not sure if it’s truly what’s best for him at this point, but you’ll support him, be there for him, let him lean on you, whatever he needs. You won’t give him a hard time about his decision to work.
Robby’s in the kitchen making coffee when you pad in. You’re dressed only in one of his oversized shirts. He’s not entirely certain about working today. But he’s tired of letting the day have control over him. It feels wrong. And when Jake asked for Robby’s PittFest ticket so he could take his girlfriend Leah instead of Robby it felt like a sign.
“Morning,” you say softly as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. You press your cheek against his broad back and rest your hands on his tummy.
“Morning, Kid.” Robby squeezes one of your hands before continuing to make the coffee.
He’s been up long enough for the sleep to disappear from his voice and to shower. His hair is wet. “Sleep well?”
“I always sleep well when you’re in bed with me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Michael.” You press a kiss to his back. “Seriously.”
“I slept well, yes. I meant it.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his tone and you get it. You do. But you ask because you care about him and worry about him.
“Good.” You close your eyes and just breathe him in for a couple of moments. “You sure about working today?”
He knew it was coming. And he knows you mean well and are asking because you care about him and he loves it. He really does. Because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had someone care about him the way you do. Because you’re in love with him and he’s in love with you even if you haven’t said it to each other yet. You both can tell the other is. But for some reason he doesn’t really understand, he just falters right before he can say it, can’t bring himself to as though that’ll somehow be what makes it more real, like it isn’t already. And he knows you haven’t told him because you don’t want him to feel pressured to return those three words.
But at the same time, you asking multiple times just in different words is going to be annoying today. That level of checking in on him. It is already. Because he just wants it to be a normal day. He doesn’t want everyone treating him like he’s made of glass just because one bad thing happened on this day. It’s suffocating. He knows it’s out of love and concern but it gets suffocating.
Just like all the PPE was on this day when Adamson died. Maybe that’s part of why it hits such a nerve.
Robby takes a second to breathe so that the mild irritation and frustration doesn’t seep into his tone. He doesn’t, however, explain or communicate that he can’t deal with the constant checking in, that it suffocates him. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. I’ll have you there with me if I need anything.” He’s hoping that last part tells you that he’ll come find you if he needs you and so you don’t have to ask. It understandably doesn’t.
“I will, yes.” You’re quiet as you listen to the coffee percolate. You can feel how tense he is. You know you’ll never really be able to understand how hard this day is for him or in what ways it is. So you just want to be there for him, make sure he’s okay. You think maybe a distraction will help. Robby pours himself a cup of coffee as you speak. “Wanna shower with me?” you ask with a seductive lilt so he knows exactly what you mean.
He laughs softly, takes a sip of his coffee and starts to turn in your arms. You relax your arms and let him, greet him with a sweet smile. “Come here,” he whispers, sticking his lips out.
You shake your head. “I have morning breath.”
He clicks his tongue at you. “When have I ever cared about that before?”
You shrug. “It’s different when we both do.”
“Come here,” he says again, more stern this time as he makes eye contact with you. You consider it for a moment but eventually give in. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. But you keep it chaste and short. There will be time for more after you brush your teeth, you’re sure.
“Shower?” You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smirk on your face, nails scratching gently at his back.
He smirks at you. “My coffee will get cold.” He holds the cup up and tilts it just slightly before taking another sip.
You breathe out a slightly incredulous and hurt laugh, take your arms from around him as you speak. First he dodges the question and then that. You tell yourself it’s just because of the day and that he’s not in the mood or mentally there and that’s okay. That it makes sense. But coffee? He couldn’t just say no? “Wow, coffee’s better than my mouth or pussy, ouch.”
Michael rolls his eyes at you. That’s not at all what he meant. “Stop. And I’ve also already showered, which I know you know.”
This time you just scoff and shake your head at him a little. “Yeah, because neither of us have ever gotten back in the shower with each other after we already showered. But okay,” you laugh quietly as you step back. Robby tilts his head at you as you walk away, he knows you have more to say. You stop and turn around to look at him before turning to go back to the bedroom and en suite to shower. “You know, Michael, you can just say no. You’re allowed to say no. I’m not going to force you to shower or have sex with me. Saying no is okay. Not being in the mood is okay, especially on a day like today. I suggested it to try and help distract you and maybe make you feel good.” The maybe is a little slip of insecurity. “You don’t even need a reason and you never have to explain why, but just, the way you communicate that no. The shitty excuses hurt. And they make me wonder about myself far more than ‘no I’m not in the mood’ does.” You turn and walk away.
Robby sets his mug down and you hear it, shake your head to yourself. “Kid!” he calls after you, pushing off the kitchen counter. He never meant to hurt you or make you doubt yourself. He never meant to make it feel like this was a you thing. Because it’s not. It’s him. It’s the day. It’s his mood.
You’re really not in the mood at this point. For sex of any kind or to have a conversation with him right now, honestly. You keep telling yourself that it’s just a really bad day for him. It has nothing to do with you or the two of you. It’s the day. You know Robby doesn’t see it well and you don’t point it out more because he has so much of his own shit going on, but you still have so much insecurity. About yourself. About the two of you. You worry you’re not good enough for him or aren’t what he expected and thought you’d be.
You walk in the bathroom quickly and uncharacteristically lock the door behind you. Usually both you and Robby leave the door unlocked or even partially open when you shower. You turn the shower on and take his shirt off quickly, wanting to just be in the shower and have it as an excuse for not hearing him. If he even tries to talk to you.
Robby almost slams into the door when it doesn’t open. He hadn’t expected it not to open. For you to have locked it. “Kid, please,” he calls loudly, hoping you’ll hear him over the water. He knocks on the door, with the middle knuckle of his index finger. “Please!” You can hear him. You just don’t feel like shouting, and again. You don’t really want to talk.
You stand under the stream of hot water and zone out a bit. Ruminate. You know that you and Robby are fine. That you’re great. You know he’s attracted to you. That he loves having sex with you. You had incredible sex last night for god’s sake. It’s the day. It’s the emotions it brings up for him. The grief. You shouldn’t have even brought sex up. He’s sad and grieving and triggered today. Why would you do that?
“Kid!” Robby calls again, still knocking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or insinuate coffee was better than you or anything like that.” When you don’t answer Robby goes and sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a long sigh. He lets his head fall back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He really could do without you doing this. Without this added thing and stress. The day is hard enough as it is.
His voice brings you back and you start to do all of your normal shower things. You’re surprised when Robby’s not immediately knocking and calling for you again once he hears the shower turn off. You figure he’s probably gone back to his coffee and the thought sends a little pang through your heart.
You wrap your towel around yourself and open the bathroom door. You almost jump a little when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted at you. You look at him for a moment and then walk to his dresser and open your drawer, pull out a set of scrubs, an undershirt and some underwear. You grab your bra off the floor where Robby threw it last night. You can feel his eyes on you, the way he’s tracked you across the room and is watching you.
When you turn back around and see him he’s smiling to himself, it’s almost anticipatory. His eyes run up and down your towel covered body. He looks like he’s eager to see you naked when you get dressed. And he is. He abso-fucking-lutely is. It melts you a little bit. But you’re hurt still and he hasn’t offered an apology to your face. So you take your clothes and walk towards the bathroom.
Robby draws out a scoff, but the disappointment rings through more than his irritation. “So what, I don’t even get to admire you as you get dressed anymore?”
You turn at the threshold of the bathroom door to look back at him, capture his gaze. You drag your eyes from him to the open bedroom door and then back to him. You’re stoic as you shrug. “Your coffee’s getting cold out there.”
You just catch Robby’s shoulders and face fall as you turn back and step in the bathroom before shutting and locking the door. You already regret it. Wish you could take it back. You shouldn’t have hurt him just because he hurt you.
Your words sting, they hurt and sadden him. But he can at least understand why you said it. Robby lets out a long sigh and rubs his face but doesn’t get up. He doesn’t care about the fucking coffee. He doesn’t even want it anymore. He wants you. He wants to hold you close and kiss you. He wants to apologize. He wants your forgiveness. He needs all of that. Needs you.
You get dressed and finish getting ready in the bathroom quickly. You know you need to apologize to Robby and you want to, you really do feel awful. You just kind of hope he’ll also apologize to you. This is not the start to this day that either of you needed.
Seeing Robby still sitting on the bed when you open the bathroom door is unexpected. You figured he’d go get his coffee and wait for you in the living room.
You look at each other for a moment and then you break the silence. Robby wants to be the one to but the words just get caught in his throat before he can even open his mouth. “I’m sorry for being passive aggressive and saying that. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just talked to you and worked it out.”
Robby gives you a small smile. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry too.” He beckons you with two fingers and you walk over to him, stand between his legs when he opens them for you and rest your hands on his shoulders. He waits for you to look down at him before he continues. “I never meant to make you doubt yourself or feel unwanted. In any way. I didn’t think any of it through before I said it. Didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”
You squeeze his shoulders gently. “I accept your apology.” You’re not sure what else to say.
“You know I want you. I always want you, Kid. I did this morning, I just…” He shakes his head and sighs. “My brain, you know? The thoughts and all that shit.”
“I know, yeah,” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. “I thought sex might be a good distraction. I should’ve thought a little harder about it before I offered.”
“It usually is.” He tilts his head at you. “Can I kiss you for real now? Not whatever that was that you gave me in the kitchen.”
You laugh softly and nod. “I’d like that.” Robby wraps his arms around you as he stands up, stopping at the right height to kiss you instead of standing straight. It’s a kiss that at just about any other time would lead to far more. It certainly leads to another kiss and then another, and before you realize it you and Robby have been standing there making out for a solid couple of minutes.
He groans as he pulls away from you. “I don’t want to stop but I do want to have time to treat you to breakfast burritos and your choice of caffeine from that place down the street. Eat as we walk to work.”
“Treat me or yourself?” You smirk at him.
“You.” He shakes his head at you a little as he says it. “The fact that it’s also a treat for me is just a fun coincidental bonus.”
“Yeah, coincidental my ass, Robinavitch.” You try to keep your smirk up but it turns into a smile the more you stare at those big brown eyes you love so much. It almost slips out but you catch yourself, turn to walk to the entryway to get your shoes on. I love you.
The two of you get breakfast burritos and coffee on the way in. Neither of you say anything but you both think it’s ironic that the coffee was a whole thing and then he just left his mug and the carafe of it sitting there at home. Once you get to work you get your stuff in your lockers, stethoscopes around your neck and head to the hub.
The day passes relatively quickly. For you at least. From what you’ve gathered from others and what Robby has said when you’ve talked to him, things have not been as smooth for him as they have been for you. You make sure he has some semblance of a lunch, drinks some water.
Towards the end of the shift he comes and finds you. It’s the first time he’s really purposefully sought you out all day. You wouldn’t say he was avoiding you but a little bit you felt like that. After you asked him if he was okay when you saw him for the second time while at work and got an exasperated answer you realized he was tired of being asked. You knew he was probably getting it from Dana too. So you stopped directly asking, figuring it out subtly through other means. And he’d appreciated it when you backed off. He’d recognized when you’d done so. It had made him feel a little less suffocated and a lot loved even without exchange of the words. Because it was clear how well you knew him and how easily you picked up on what he needed.
That’s why him seeking you out has you so concerned. It has to be bad.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Robby’s voice is strained as he grabs your elbow and starts walking you towards an empty room.
Your face furrows as you let him lead you into the room. “Everything okay?” You wonder if this is about Dana and what happened to her.
He doesn’t answer, just closes the door as you walk in the room and stands with his back to the window. “I’m gonna tell you something but you have to keep your reaction really controlled, okay? And obviously you can’t tell anyone.” You nod. “Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and has been stealing meds.”
The furrows smooth out of your face and you have no real facial reaction other than in your eyes which only Robby can see. They widen just slightly with shock. “What the fuck?”
“I know. I fucking know. I sent him home but I fucking,” Robby’s shaking his head hard. His eyes are a little glassy. You know Langdon is kind of Robby’s protégé. Everyone does. Just like everyone knows you kind of are too. “I let a drug addict practice medicine and treat patients. I fucking let him.”
You tilt your head and shake it at him. “Michael, you didn’t let him do anything. This isn’t your fault. I understand you feeling like it is, and that’s valid of course, but I promise you it’s not your fault.”
He shrugs at you, looks so incredibly helpless and at a loss. It breaks your heart. You walk towards him and pull him further in the room a little bit, drawing the curtain to give the two of you a little privacy. You walk back so that you’re standing right in front of him, just enough space between the two of you that you can see each other.
You don’t say anything as you reach up and start rubbing at his shoulders and the back of his neck before he can. You feel him relax and he drops his head, eyes fluttering close while his hands come to settle on your hips.
He doesn’t understand how you always seem to know what he needs. When he needs you to talk to him. When he just needs quiet acceptance and to just be in your presence like this. How you’ve picked up on him rubbing his neck. It’s more comforting and soothing when you do it, the circles he rubs on your hips over your scrubs keeping his hands busy.
You’re a little surprised by it honestly. You thought he might reject this little bit of comfort you’re offering him. Not because of you but because he rarely accepts it at work even in private like this. You’re pretty sure his brain constantly tells him he doesn’t deserve the comfort here.
“We need to get back out there,” he finally mumbles, bringing his head back up and opening his eyes.
“Probably, yeah,” you agree. You stop rubbing his neck and loosen your arms but keep them where they are for a moment to see if he’ll hug you. You’re not going to push it on him, not going to make him feel bad when it’s too much for him right now.
Robby’s hands squeeze your hips one last time. “Thanks, Kid.” He pulls away and you drop your arms, stepping out of the room with him once he pushes the curtain back.
You both get sucked back into work and you don’t see much of Robby until him racing in from the ambulance bay catches your attention. Dana comes walking in quickly behind him and you catch her gaze, tilt your head as you walk over.
A frown and worried brows are etched deep into her face. “There’s a shooter at PittFest. MCI protocol.”
Everything freezes for a second as you hit fight or flight, limbs going cold and nausea creeping up on you. You say nothing to Dana, immediately turning and following after Robby because you know he put his phone in his locker earlier and is going to get it.
“Don’t!” you yell at him as he opens his locker. “Michael, do not call or text him!”
He doesn’t stop, grabbing his phone and starting to unlock it. “Are you out of your fucking mind-”
“If he’s hiding and doesn’t have his phone on silent it could give him away,” you rush out before Robby can hit send or call.
He freezes and looks up at you finally. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck!” That one is yelled. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”
You walk over to him and cover one of his hands with yours. “Because you’re effectively his dad in a lot of ways, Michael, and so you’re too close to it, of course your first instinct was to call him to see if he was okay. I love him too and it’s not that I don’t want to know if he’s okay, and I know it’s very unlikely there’s really anywhere to hide and that it’s probably so loud his phone ringing would barely be audible, but I just think it’s better to be safe right now. He’ll know to call or text you or his mom. He’ll know. And if Janey hears from him she will call you. I know she will.”
He’s breathing hard as he looks at you before finally look away as he shuts his locker. “What if it’s David, Kid?” he whispers. Robby looks back at you and his lip trembles just slightly. The implication is clear. Robby had told you about David and everything that was going on there. You know his worry is valid. “What if I just got Jake killed? Killed another person on this fucking day.”
You let out a long breath as you shake your head. There’s a lot to unpack there. “Okay. Everything you just said, and all of your feelings make sense and are real and valid and I’m acknowledging them. I’m not trying to brush anything off. And I will be there for you whatever happens. But we don’t have a lot of time here so we’re going to have to come back and explore this all more if you want. For right now though, you didn’t kill Adamson, Michael. Covid did. You had to make a terrible decision nobody should ever have to make, but that wasn’t you killing him. And you can’t do this to yourself Robby. If and I mean if it was David, it would still be a random act of violence. You can’t control that. And right now the patients about to come in and Jake and Leah need you to focus on getting everyone ready for this and then handling this MCI and you cannot do that and be focusing on the what ifs, okay?”
Robby wants to believe you. He wants to believe what you just said but he can’t. He just fucking can’t. He did kill Adamson. He will have killed Jake. He knows you’re right about the end bit though. He has to shove all of this in a box so that he can focus on what’s about to happen and patients.
You can tell Robby wants to fight you about it but decides not to in favor of very uncharacteristically hugging and kissing you publicly at work before walking away to start implementing protocol with Dana. It leaves you standing there blinking at the wall for a second before you’re able to turn and walk back towards the hub to help.
Robby’s hugging Jack as you walk up. You and Jack exchange a look. You know that Jack knows that Jake’s at PittFest. You know Jack knows how bad the day is for Robby.
When Jack starts unpacking supplies you go in to help him.
“How is he?” Jack asks.
You can’t help the way you huff. “How do you fucking think Jack?”
When he doesn’t reply you look up at him. Jack’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised and mouth set, edges up just a tiny bit to show he’s not mad, asking excuse me? and how did you just speak to me? without a word.
You sigh. “I’m sorry.” You set down what you’re holding and rub at the back of your neck. You see Jack’s smile pull up a little more as he recognizes what you’re doing, what you’ve learned from Robby. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten snippy. It’s just Jake, you know?” The breath you let out is shuddery. “I don’t know if even I could save Robby if something happened to him and Robby couldn’t save him, Jack.”
Jack’s face softens and he squeezes your shoulder. “I know. I wish there was more I could say, but I know. I’m worried about him and that possibility too.”
The two of you start to unpack again. “I just need him to call or text Michael or his mom and say he’s okay and on his way home. I need this to not happen to him today. I mean or ever, but you know. He doesn’t need to feel more grief and loss that he thinks he’s responsible for today.”
“All we can do is be there for him,” Jack murmurs.
“Yeah. I guess,” you murmur back.
Once you finish unpacking and arranging supplies Jack faces you before the two of you walk out to where Robby is starting to gather everyone.
“I need you to promise me that if something happens with Jake, if, god forbid, he ends up here and is critical, you will let me run it with Robby. We won’t get him to not work on him, we won’t have time to argue about it with him. We both know that.” Jack nods at you. “So you need to let me be the one to work with him. You need to let me be the one to convince him we’re not getting Jake back and he has to let Jake go. Because you’re the best thing in his life. You keep him going. So I don’t want him associating being unable to save Jake with you. He might work through the emotions it brings up, he might not. But if he doesn’t… Robby’s only going to survive something like that with you by his side. He could survive it without me, he could cut me out and lose me and survive. He couldn’t survive it without you. So I need you to promise me if Jake ends up here, you’re going to let me be with Robby until TOD is called. Same with Jake’s girlfriend.”
You swallow hard as you look at Jack. It will be hard for you to stay away. You worry Robby will wonder why you’re not there, why you didn’t drop everything to come help him. But you also know that he’s not really going to be worried about that in the moment. He’ll be too focused on Jake. And Jack’s words make your heart ache. Yes, because it’s sweet that Jack knows what you mean to Robby, that he can see it and that Robby has talked to him about it. But it’s more because you recognize the sacrifice Jack’s volunteering to make for Robby and Robby’s happiness and ability to get through this. The sacrifice in running the risk of losing his best friend, because Jack doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t have a significant other. He has Dana but that friendship isn’t like his and Robby’s.
“I think you’re selling yourself quite short there, Jack,” you whisper.
He shakes his head to say he doesn’t care. “Promise me.”
You hold his gaze for another few seconds before you look away. “Okay,” you nod, “I promise.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“Jack?” He turns at the threshold and looks back at you. “Thank you.”
He simply nods and the two of you walk out. You stand by Shen while Jack stands by Robby, the two of them talking things through with the group, explaining how a lot of this is going to work, who’s going to be where, what to do when different things happen.
“Communicate,” Robby tells the group. “Ask for help if you need it.”
You look at Dana when he says that. Which was the wrong move because you both end up having to stifle laughs. You know it’s inappropriate. You know it’s not funny. And you know that Robby’s really good at the whole ‘do as I say not as I do’ thing, and if what he just said isn’t a textbook example you don’t know what is. So in the moment his words just strike you as funny, in part because all of this is a situation where if you don’t laugh you’re going to cry. Dark humor becomes a coping mechanism. You at least do a good job of stifling it and covering your mouth, can tell you hid it enough and everyone was so focused on Robby and Jack they didn’t see anything.
Everyone disperses and patients start rolling in. Time loses any real meaning. It could have been forty minutes or four hours. You have no idea. You just know that patients keep rolling in. Never Jake or Leah.
Neither of you can decide in your heads whether that’s a good or bad thing. Whether it means they’re dead on the scene or that they escaped and are okay and lost their phones in the chaos and are trying to get further away from the scene before they ask to borrow someone’s phone to call people or are just trying to get home.
Robby and you both glance at Dana every chance you get. She has Robby’s phone so she’ll know if Jake or Janey get in touch with him. The patients in front of him at least help distract Robby somewhat. That anxiety about Jake never goes away. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. But it goes to the back enough that he can focus and be a good doctor.
Patients continue to arrive. In ambulances and cop cars and civilian cars and business vans.
But never Jake and Leah.
You’ve been at the Pitt a year and a month now. You’ve been an R2 for a month. You’ve already learned a lot. You’ve already had devastating losses and incredible saves. You’ve already thought about staying here past your residency. You’ve already grown close with a number of people. You’ve already grown very close with one person.
Michael Robinavitch. Robby.
You know how bad it could seem. How bad it might already seem. But you and Robby both know it’s there. Something far beyond platonic. You both feel it. And it only grew over your intern year and is continuing to.
You haven’t discussed it outright but the energy and attraction between the two of you is so clearly there and you’ve seen it in his eyes. When he’s leaning in close to you to help teach you something and his pupils are a bit more dilated than they should be in the lighting. When he sees another man flirt with you and they blaze with what seems like anger but is really jealousy. When you’ve just pulled a double together and have hit silly and are laughing so hard you’re both crying at something so incredibly stupid and his eyes crinkle with affection that never appears for anyone else.
And Robby’s seen it in your eyes. When something horrible happens and your eyes find his before anybody else’s and a little spirit comes back into them just from making eye contact with him. When he’s hiding how badly something with a patient or family has shaken him and turns to find you and you’re already looking at him with soft eyes full of recognition and understanding that make him feel so seen in a way he hasn’t felt before. When you bring him some sort of treat, sweet or savory, and pass him a post-it note that you pretend is a note about a patient but really says it’s in the fridge with his name on it and your eyes sparkle with an adoration he’s yet to see you look at anyone else with.
Robby knows he cannot do anything, there cannot be anything between the two of you, not even some semblance of anything until you’re an attending or maybe an R4 if you’ve already accepted an attending position. Being with you before you’re an attending wouldn’t look professionally great for him, but that’s not what he worries about. He worries how it would look for you, like a young woman sleeping with her boss, how people would at the very least have in the back of their minds that you were sleeping your way to the top or you got given things because you were sleeping with your boss or were eventually offered an attending position because you were sleeping with your boss.
Robby knows not everyone would think that. And he knows it absolutely would not be that. But he doesn’t even want you to risk it. Not for him. He knows your career and reputation have to be your first priority.
Dana and Jack have both asked him about you after observing the two of you together. He assures them that while, yeah, he has some feelings for you, it is strictly platonic between the two of you, him mentoring just like he does everyone else.
And so neither of you have ever made any really overt move. Because you both know you can’t.
So there’s been no real discussion about ‘one day’ or if there ever could be a future for the two of you.
But now that you're a month and a bit into being an R2 and don’t have the label of ‘intern’ and feel like you have a better handle on being a doctor you’ve grown more confident. Not over-confident or cocky. Not even close. Just a bit more sure of yourself. Professionally and personally. And so your joking around with and screwing with and flirting with Robby has intensified a little. It’ll continue to do so your entire residency.
And while Robby is a bit more reserved, particularly when it comes to flirting and anything vaguely sexual, he still gives it back in his own way. It is overwhelmingly not one sided.
It’s not just sexual. You and Robby are close. You go to each other with problems and to vent. You seek each other out for comfort. And it’s comfort that forces you both to acknowledge it and discuss it, this thing between you.
You find yourself sitting on the roof, back pressed up against the wall and legs out in front of you. You’re technically off. You want to be anywhere other than this fucking hospital. And yet you can’t bring yourself to move.
You stay quiet and still when you hear the door to the roof open, hope whoever is up here won’t notice you before they leave.
Unfortunately for you the person who walks onto the roof has spent the last thirty minutes looking for you. And Robby’s slightly panicked about it. You’ve seemed off all day. Sad. Overwhelmingly sad. In particular the last time he saw you he felt like you looked… done. With everything. With the world.
The sigh he lets out when he sees you sitting there on the roof is of relief. You can tell that it’s not irritation or annoyance.
“Go away,” you call half-heartedly when he starts to walk over.
“Go away? I don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away before.” Robby tries to keep it light.
“First time for everything,” you mutter.
That pulls a small laugh from him. He comes and sits next to you against the wall. He’s close, your sides pressing against each other. Closer than the average mentor-mentee would be sitting for sure.
You don’t say anything and so for a few minutes the two of you sit in silence, each of you focused on the way the other feels pressed up against you. But Robby wants, maybe needs if he’s honest with himself, to know what’s wrong so he can help you.
“Talk to me Kid.” And there it is. That name he only calls you.
You shake your head a little and sigh. Robby hates how sad it sounds. He doesn’t even really think about his next move. He just reaches out and slips his hand into yours where it rests on your thigh, laces your fingers together.
With the setting and context of why you’re both up here together it’s an incredibly intimate gesture.
You’re not quite sure what to make of it but he initiated it and it feels good. Makes you feel safe and cared for. You look down at your intertwined hands for a moment. His hand engulfs yours with how much bigger it is and it’s so warm. He always runs so warm.
“I don’t know,” you finally force yourself to say. “I really don’t know.”
Robby nods slowly. “Just one of those days?” he offers.
“I guess.” You shrug. It might seem like the silence is purposeful but in reality it’s Robby trying to think of what to say. “I’m just tired, I think.” You sniffle and it’s then you realize that you’re kind of teary. “Fuck,” you mutter.
“It’s okay, Kid. I’ve had these days too. Some days you’re just tired and so it all hits harder, even shit that normally wouldn’t make you blink.” Robby rubs what he hopes are soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.
“Yeah,” you take in a choked breath, “I’m just really fucking tired.” The tears start to fall freely then and you squeeze Robby’s hand hard like it’ll make them stop. They’re at least mercifully silent, it’s not like you’re totally sobbing in front of him.
But then Robby really notices how much you’re crying and lets go of your hand to raise his arm so you can lean into him as he pulls you to him, your legs shifting automatically to get in a more comfortable position as you lean into his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers, tilts his head so that his cheek rests on the top of your head.
You shake your head but hold onto him as you cry, relish in the circles his big hand rubs on your back. You don’t cry for long. A few minutes. And it’s not loud or even sobbing, it’s just crying. Just blinking out tears that end up wetting his scrub top, the occasional shuddery or hiccupped breath.
You don’t move once you stop though and Robby doesn’t ask you to. Doesn’t shift his body to suggest you move. His cheek remains on your head and his hand continues to rub circles on your back. “I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper.
“Never be sorry for needing to let something out. It accumulates in this job.” Robby goes to turn his head so that he can kiss the top of yours but he catches himself and stops before he can. “And if you don’t let it out somehow it can become debilitating.”
You can feel the vibrations of him speaking and it soothes you further. “Everything just felt so shit today. All of the backstories of what brought my patients in today. All crime and abuse. Every single patient.”
“That’s one of the worst kind of days here,” Robby sympathizes.
“I hate that it’s one kind.”
That makes him laugh which makes you smile. “Yeah there’s a lot of kinds of worst days in this job unfortunately.”
You sigh and finally pull away from him. But his hand on your back doesn’t let you go particularly far. And when you both lean in a little your faces are close enough to feel each other’s breaths. “Does it ever get better?” you whisper.
Robby shakes his head slightly. “No.”
You both watch each other’s eyes glance down at the other’s lips. You both lean into each other even more. You both tilt your heads in the opposite direction of the other. You both let your eyes flutter closed.
But the second you truly feel the heat of Robby’s breath against your lips he pulls away. “Fuck,” he mutters.
You look down, embarrassed and disappointed and guilty. But despite the almost kiss and Robby pulling away neither of you have otherwise moved. You’re still close together.
“I’m sorry.” You murmur.
“No!” Robby laughs, a heavy dose of self-exasperation in it. “Don’t be. God, fucking don’t be. And don’t think I don’t want to. That I don’t want… that. With you. But your name and reputation and career… we can’t. We can’t.” Robby moves his head back so he’s looking at you, uses his free hand to guide your chin up so you’re looking at him. “When you’re an attending, okay?” You nod at him and he repeats it. “When you’re an attending.”
The sinking feeling in your and Robby’s stomachs intensifies as more patients come in who aren’t Jake or Leah and at the lack of phone call or text. You get your patient in Walsh’s hands to be taken up to surgery and change into a fresh trauma gown and step outside, checking on triage but also getting some air.
“You good?” Robby asks, walking up behind you. He doesn’t really wait for your answer, continuing to walk towards Shen and Ellis. But the quick press of his ungloved hand against your lower back as he walks by makes up for it a little.
You don’t bother voicing an answer, nor do you follow him to ask him the same question. You already know the answer.
As Robby’s talking about getting gurneys to the right angle and helping fix them a truck comes squealing in. Shen and Ellis jump up and start yelling out colors. You put on a pair of gloves pulled from your pocket and wait nearby to see if there’s a red coming. But then you hear it and are hopping up on the tire of the truck to look in the bed. “Michael!”
You yell his name. And Robby immediately knows it has to be Jake. He has never heard you yell his name before and there’s only a handful of reasons why you would today. He tells himself there’s a tint of hope to your tone. “Jake?” Robby yells as he runs over. But he hears Jake’s voice and a wave of relief passes through him now that he at least knows where he is and that he’s okay enough for right now to speak.
“Red zone. GSW left chest,” Ellis assesses Leah.
“Jake, are you shot?” you ask him as Robby arrives.
“I don’t know my, my leg maybe, it’s Leah. It’s Leah’s blood, she was shot, was shot in the chest and I’ve been putting pressure on it the whole time, and I don’t know-”
“That’s good,” Robby cuts him off, “you did good, okay?”
You get Leah onto a gurney and Jake out of the truck. He walks in holding onto the side of Leah’s gurney opposite Robby. “Get him a wheelchair!” Robby calls. He notices you walking away while he argues with Jake about getting in the wheelchair and staying there and out of the way. He finds it odd, is a little miffed that you’re abandoning him with Leah and Jake.
But you’re speedwalking to Jack. “Leah. GSW left chest. I don’t think there’s any way. It had to have shredded her heart,” you say just loudly enough for Jack to hear as you take the bag of blood he’s squeezing into his patient from him. He nods at you, gives you a rundown on the patient in front of you as he walks backwards towards Robby, turning when he’s finished.
“Samira!” you call out to her when you see her look around. “Jake.” You flick your head at him. “Probable GSW to the leg. But head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and it’s masking another injury.”
“Got it.” She nods and is off to Jake, finding a gurney for him to get on.
Robby glances at Samira with Jake. “What the fuck?” It’s loud enough for you to hear.
“Me, Michael!” you call over to him. “I sent her to do a head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and not feeling another injury.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a vague nod as he turns back to Leah. He can’t believe he didn’t think about that either. That’s twice now you might’ve saved Jake. First telling him not to call just in case. Now this. He’s lucky. He’s beyond lucky to have you. “Jake you do whatever the fuck Samira tells you without a fucking word of argument!”
You get the patient you took from Jack stable and up to surgery, start working on the next red to roll in. They stabilize relatively fast and you find yourself squeezing in blood again. But this time your eyes are flicking between the patient and Robby and Jack and the way Jack is having to talk Robby into accepting that Leah is gone. You can’t hear any of it but you know that’s what’s happening based on the expression on Jack’s face and how he keeps chasing Robby’s eye contact.
After a minute everyone stills and you watch Robby write on Leah’s card and circle around it. You know he called it. Jack’s back over to you quickly, taking the blood from you this time as you give him the rundown on this patient. “Michael!” you call as you walk over to him quickly.
“I have to go tell Jake,” he mutters, shaking his head and turning to look in your direction but not at you. He’d been watching them wheel Leah into pedes.
“Do you want me to go with-”
“No. No it’s fine, thanks, I got it. Santos was looking for an attending, go find her.” He walks away without looking at you. He can’t bring himself to. The shame he’s feeling at not being able to save her, at failing Jake a little too heavy to let him lift his head to look at you.
You watch him for a second as he walks away. Your heart aches for him, for the man you love and the news he has to go deliver to a teenager he considers his son in a way. You can’t ruminate though. Too many other people need you.
So you do what Robby said and go to find Santos. You get involved with her and by the time you’re done you look around but you can’t spot Robby. “Dana, have you seen Robby?” you ask her as she walks by.
“I think I saw him taking Jake to pedes.” She grimaces at you.
You nod and make your way there, opening the door and stopping short. “Michael?”
Robby’s on the floor, knees up to his chest and holding onto his necklace while reciting a prayer through tears. He doesn’t acknowledge you. It hurts to see him like this. It’s physically painful. But he needs you so you set it aside.
“Michael,” you say softly as you sit down next to him so that your sides are pressing against each other’s. “I’m here.” You grab one of his hands, hold onto it harder when he tries to pull it away.
“You need to go back out there,” he sniffles. “They need you.” He flicks his eyes up at you.
There’s truth in his words. But there’s also truth in yours. “Not as much as you do right now.”
“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I, I…” He shrugs at you before breaking down in tears again, but this time letting himself fall into your gownless lap.
“Okay,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you.”
“I couldn’t save her,” he chokes out, “another person I couldn’t fucking save. Another I killed. Another I let down. It’s two because Jake. I let him down too and he knows it.” You curl around him as much as you can, move his gown and kiss at his shoulder. You let him have a moment and get it out. Because you both know you don’t have much longer than that. “And the worst,” he sobs, “the worst part is it should’ve been me, Kid. It should be me on that gurney. It was my pass that I gave him for her.”
That last sentence is hard to hear. Because you can’t imagine a world without Robby in it. A world where you have to bury him. You want to tell him not to say shit like that, but you swallow down your upset because he doesn’t need that right now. You know there’s very little he needs right now in a sense. He doesn’t need a lot of words or you trying to make this better and discuss his feelings and emotions. He just needs to let some of this out.
Robby knows that’s all he needs right now, too. To let some of what’s eating away at him out in the one place he feels safe.
You.
You’re his safe place. He didn’t realize just how much he needed you here with him until you walked in and sat next to him and took his hand. You make it better. You make it hurt less. Just by being here for him.
“You didn’t kill Adamson or Leah,” you murmur after a minute. “And you haven’t let them or Jake down. Your feelings are valid Michael, and I know I can’t begin to understand on multiple levels but the way you are feeling makes sense. We can work through your feelings. You can work through them. You can get through this. No matter how hopeless and impossible it feels right now.” You pause, have to swallow hard and blink away some tears. “And I wish that nobody was on that gurney. I don’t want anyone on that gurney. I wish none of this had ever happened. For you and Jake and Leah and everyone involved. And maybe saying this is wrong of me. It’s probably selfish. Maybe I’m a terrible person for it. You can hate me for it if you need to and like I said I truly wish none of this happened and nobody was on that gurney. But I am really fucking glad it’s not you on that gurney Michael because I have no fucking idea what I would do.” You let out a shuddery breath. “And I wish we had more time and that I could say more and hold you more and that all of this was over but it’s not.” You scratch at his scalp a little. “They need us.” He nods and sits up, looks over at you. “They need you.”
“Yeah,” he whispers. He’s let himself grow numb. Because right now that’s what he needs to be to get through this right now.
“I need you,” you whisper back. He knows what you mean. He knows what you’re worried about. Him taking a walk off the roof or something.
“I’m not going anywhere, Kid.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” He nods.
“Good.” You nod and stand up, hold out your hand to him. He lets out a soft laugh as he takes your hand and lets you help him up.
You both take a second to wipe your faces a bit. “Find me if you need me, okay?”
“I will,” Robby promises again.
You nod and open the door, both of you walking out. Within seconds both of your names are called.
“Hey.” He grabs your wrist gently before you can go. You look at him with raised brows. He wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. But he can’t. “Thank you.” I love you.
Robby slips off his stool at the high top a group of you are sitting at and follows you up to the side of the bar, takes his drink with him. You were sitting across from him at the end of the table and the rest of the group was so focused on their conversation he doesn’t think anyone even realized he followed you. A little bit he doesn’t care if they did.
You’re down near the last two stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get you your drink. It’s busy so you’re sitting while you wait, wanting to be off your feet after a long shift. Robby setting his beer down startles you for just a second. But you can quickly tell it’s him.
By the sweatshirt sleeve rolled up. By the smell of his cologne lingering just enough under all the hibiclens you can appreciate it since you know what it smells like very well by now. By the hand that sets down the beer. By his fingers.
You look over at him with raised brows. His glass is still over half full. He came to talk to you.
“You’ve been calling me Michael lately.” He keeps his face pretty stoic, for him at least. But you can see the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his beard shift just slightly as the corners of his lips twitch up.
“What an astute observation, Dr. Robinavitch.” You keep your smirk to a minimum. “I don’t have a gold star sticker on me to give you but I can buy you another drink.” Very little in life gives you as much pleasure as screwing with Robby. If you were together like you wanted you could think of at least three body parts that would be added to that list.
Your words earn you the slightest raise of his eyebrows. “Why?”
“Why what?” Your eyes sparkle with mirth as your drink gets dropped off and you take a sip. They’re beautiful sparkling like this. They always are but Robby finds them particularly beautiful like this, when you’re happy and light-hearted and teasing.
And it’s just like you to make him say it. Be specific. “Why do you call me Michael? Why’d you start?”
“Makes me feel special.” You smirk fully this time. “It makes me feel special because there’s a handful of people you let call you it, especially at the hospital, and you actively try and make people not call you it. I wasn’t actually sure you were gonna let me call you it at first. Guess being an R3 has privileges. But then again, I’m the only R3 you let call you it.”
“You’re the only R3 who has ever called me it. None of the others have tried. And you didn’t answer the second question,” he points out.
“I mean yeah, I kind of did. I started because it makes me feel special.” He gives you a look and you sigh. “In part because I wanted to see if you’d let me. In part because, I don’t know,” you smile softly to yourself and look down, “I like it. Calling you Michael. It makes me feel close to you.” Robby’s never seen you look so shy and it rocks him a little. But the shyness fades quickly for you as you look back up at him. “And in part because some of the new interns got comfortable a couple of months in and were getting a little too flirty with you for my taste. So you can imagine how smug and pleased with myself I was every time I called you Michael in front of them and you said nothing and every time one of them called you Michael and you had to correct them and tell them it was Robby or Dr. Robinavitch until they finally got the picture.”
“So jealousy?” He smirks. It makes him feel good in a way, knowing that you were jealous of attention he was getting. That you care about him and want him enough to be jealous. To feel a little possessive. “And that’s why you needed to feel special? A little petty of a response, no?”
“Oh Michael,” you chuckle, take a sip of your drink. “You and I both know you are so not the one to talk about being petty as a response to jealousy. Should I start listing things you’ve done in response to me being flirted with?”
“You really shouldn’t call me it.” He’s grown a bit more serious again.
“Are you telling me to stop?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want you to. Just… You shouldn’t.”
“Why?” Your brows furrow a little in confusion. You don’t get why it matters unless he doesn’t want you calling him it for a personal reason.
“People will wonder why you’re allowed to. It makes,” he gestures between the two of you as you take a sip of your drink but doesn’t name anything, “obvious. People will start thinking and seeing it.”
You choke on your drink, coming close to spitting it out all over him. The coughs you get out once you’ve managed to swallow turn into laughter. “Michael.” You cock your head at him and give him an incredulous smile. “You cannot actually believe that me calling you Michael is what’s going to give this thing between us away. Because it’s been given away. It was given away for sure by the end of my intern year. Nobody asked me anything during my intern year I’m guessing because I was an intern, but a couple weeks into being an R2 I was getting questions. Dana and Jack never asked you or talked to you about it? Because they’ve certainly asked and talked to me.”
Robby blushes at the realization. Deep down he probably always knew that everyone could see it and he’d just managed to convince himself otherwise. “Of course they did,” he answers your question, not sure how to respond to everything before it. “I just thought it was because they were more… perceptive. That they knew me better and could see it in me.”
You have to laugh a little and bite your lip. “You know, you’re sitting here pointing out that halfway through my third year of residency I’ve just started calling you Michael, your first name, and it’s almost like you’ve forgotten you always call me Kid. Only me. Since my first fucking day here. I don’t remember the last time I heard you say my first or last name for something other than introducing me to someone, in front of a patient or in some very formal situation. And I’d like to point out that not a single god damned person has ever heard you call me Kid and then tried to call me Kid unlike with me calling you Michael. I wonder why that is? It’s almost like it comes across as a little more than a nickname to people.”
He looks at you for a second. “I…”
You hold your hand up and half wave him off. “It’s okay. I’ll stop calling you it, Robby.” It’s half teasing and half serious.
You slide off your stool and grab your drink intending to walk back to the table. Robby’s quick to slide off his stool and stand in front of you though, blocking your path. He looks at the stool you were sitting on pointedly and then back at you. You follow his silent order and sit and set your drink back down.
He leans in a little closer to you than he was. “I never asked you to stop calling me it, nor did I say you needed to.” He raises his eyebrows at you and bobs his head. “Nor do I want you to. I like it when you do. A lot.”
You smirk at his admission and shrug at him. “You were making an awfully big deal about it.”
“Yeah because it, it…”
You’re genuinely not sure how he wanted to end that sentence. “It what Michael?”
Robby shakes his head at you. “Just… you’re not an attending yet. Maybe when you’re an attending, okay?”
You know Robby isn’t talking about you calling him Michael. Isn’t saying that you can’t call him Michael until you’re an attending. He’s saying what he’s said since that time on the roof that when you’re an attending the two of you can act on the feelings you clearly have for each other.
But the maybe in front of that phrase is new and hits you like a slap across the face, heart twisting as it sinks into your stomach. He’s never said that before. It’s never been a maybe and not a certainty. Robby watches your face fall and hurt cloud your eyes. He replays what he said trying to figure out what part it was that hurt you, that made your entire demeanor change. If you’re just that disappointed you didn't change his mind and aren’t suddenly a couple or if it’s something else. He can’t figure it out.
You swallow thickly, tears sting your eyes but you’re quick to blink them away. “Yeah.” You nod at him finally. “Maybe. But you know, that assumes I become an attending here, Robby. In Pittsburgh at the very least. And I don’t know if I will.”
You slip off your stool, leaving your half empty drink and heading over to the table. You tell everyone the exhaustion has hit and so you’re going to head home. They’re sad to see you go but nobody questions much. You cover well enough that if anyone had noticed you and Robby talking they wouldn’t think you were hurt by him and running away. Which you know is kind of what you’re doing instead of just asking him about it. Asking him if he doesn’t want to try the two of you anymore. If he doesn’t want you anymore. If that’s why it’s a maybe all of the sudden.
Your words throw Robby for a second because he realizes that you’re right, neither of you know for sure if you’ll get an attending job at PTMC or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. He realizes the two of you have never had a real conversation about if you want to stay in Pittsburgh, if you’re going to apply for attending spots in Pittsburgh or if you want to go somewhere else. And then he realizes you called him Robby.
He’s not sure what to do with that. What it means. He slides off his stool and goes to look for you at the table, doesn’t see you but thinks you’re in the bathroom until he’s told no, you left. He has to play it cool and nod like he isn’t internally panicking about whatever the fuck just happened. And he can’t just leave because it’ll look suspicious. He has to wait a respectable amount of time, ends up leaving when Samira and Langdon do.
Robby calls you as he walks home. No answer. He has no idea what to even say to you right now so he doesn’t leave a message. He decides to text you instead. He’s worried about you and whether you’re okay and got home safe. He’s always worried about you when he doesn’t have eyes on you.
R - Let me know you got home safe R - Please
You don’t reply immediately. Or within five minutes. Or within ten minutes. It’s almost long enough to make him start panicking and change his direction to walk to your place and see if you’re there. Because of course he knows where you live and has been to your place before. But then you finally reply.
You - I did, yeah, thanks. Was showering. I hope you have a good rest of your night
It’s the truth. You were in the shower. In the shower standing under almost scalding water ruminating on ‘maybe when you’re an attending.’ Maybe. When did it become maybe for him? And why? You hate how bad it hurts, the thought of never getting to even try with him. The thought of him not wanting you anymore, of his feelings for you just disappearing. It makes you anxious.
And more than anything right now, you’re confused. So fucking confused because he’s still flirting with you just as much and as hard as he always has when you guys are alone together or when you’re close enough to whisper. His hands and fingers still linger just a couple of seconds too long when he passes you something or wrap over yours to show you how to do something. You still feel his eyes on you when you talk to other men, especially if the men flirt with you. You still notice him checking you out sometimes. But now it’s maybe. Maybe.
Robby lets out a breath when your message comes through. He debates calling you again to try and talk on the phone but he’s still not sure what to say. He walks into his apartment and drops his stuff, heads to his room and takes his scrub top and pants off before letting himself sit on the edge of the bed and reply.
R - Good. R - Are we okay? You left quickly and without saying bye
After you finish getting ready, you slide into your bed and turn the tv on while you think about what to say to his message. Tone is so hard to get out of texts but you can tell he clearly still cares about you and whatever is between you. Enough to ask if the two of you are okay. It helps your anxiety a little bit.
You - Yeah, we’re fine
He believes you but the word ‘fine’ also scares him. It’s not good or great or perfect or even normal or like we always are. So he can’t let the conversation die. Not when he’s still so unsure about whether you guys are okay or if he did something or if you still want him or if you’re mad at him.
R - Are you working tomorrow?
You - Yeah but at night. I’m starting a string of six nights to help cover.
Robby knows you’ll be with Jack every night. He remembers Jack mentioning a string of six on. He’s not jealous in a romantic sense. He’s jealous of the time Jack will get to spend with you and is already thinking of excuses to stay late to be with you. He’s sad that he won’t see you for more than maybe an hour or so for the next six days.
R - Abbot’s going to try to steal you from days permanently
You type out your reply. It’s genuine but you know it’s going to seriously fuck with him and that the idea will freak him out and make him scared of losing you. Or will it? You don’t seem to know anymore. And that hurts. And hurt people hurt people. But you pause. You erase your last sentence. ‘Maybe when I’m an attending.’
You - He just might. Going to bed at 7 in the morning rather than getting up early enough to be at work for 7 in the morning kind of appeals to me
Robby stares at your response, a wave of deeper anxiety passing over him. You can’t go to nights. He’d barely see you. You can’t be serious about this.
R - Really?
You - Yeah. Why?
Fuck. You are serious about this. And what the fuck is he supposed to say in response to your question? He knows you know why. He knows you know how he feels about you. How he wants you too. How he can’t wait for you to be an attending or even accept a position because then he can finally have you.
R - Would be a big loss for day shift. You’re one of the best
That hurts a little. That you switching to nights would just be a loss to day shift to him. Not a loss to him personally. That he wouldn’t miss you apparently.
You - You guys would be fine
R - I’d miss you. I’ll miss you this week
You smile at him saying he’d miss you and that he’s going to this week. But part of you struggles to believe him after the bar.
You - Would you? Will you?
He can’t believe you’re even asking that. And because it’s a text he can’t hear in your voice whether those two questions are serious or teasing. It hurts him to think that they might be serious.
R - Of course
You - Well I really doubt I’ll end up switching. So you’ll only have to miss me for a week
R - Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?
You are so confused by this man. It’s ‘maybe’ and ‘a loss to day shift’ but then it’s also he’ll miss you and his heart will grow fonder. But it was a good line. And between him telling you he’ll miss you unprompted and that being away from you for almost a week will deepen his feelings for you, you’re starting to feel back to your usual self and, while the change has been subconscious mostly, you go back to texting him like your usual self.
But before you can reply Robby sends another message. It terrifies him. He’s not sure how he even worked himself up to asking you. He just needs to know. Needs to know if the two of you are really okay.
R - Will you miss me at all?
It’s an incredibly vulnerable ask. You know it. He knows it. He knows you know it. He needs a very ‘you’ answer to it. So you give him one.
You - 🙂↕️
R - Good
You - Did you have to google what that emoji meant? (P.S. You should have added girl after good)
Robby laughs to himself and shakes his head at you. This feels better. Normal. Like you.
R - Did you just call me old? (P.S. Stop it)
You smile to yourself. You know he means the stop it playfully. He’d have said way more if he actually wanted you to stop.
You - 😶🤐 You - Did you change the font size on your phone?
R - I’ve changed my mind about missing you
You - Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Michael
R - Go to bed, Kid R - Don’t R - Don’t even think it
You giggle to yourself. He’s lucky he was so quick to realize and send the ‘don’t.’
You - Does it make it better if I told you it was going to be daddy and not dad?
Robby groans to himself a little. No. That’s what he wants to tell you. No, it makes it worse in a way. It has him half hard pretty quickly.
You - I’ve been in bed this entire conversation too, so
You know you’re getting close to Robby’s limit of this shameless of flirting and overt sexualness. You’re toeing the line. It hits just right though. It makes him harder. Fully hard. And Robby has to groan to himself a little louder this time because if you guys were together he’d work himself up to sending you a picture of his very obvious erection under his boxers, or facetime you and make you talk him through it. But you’re not together. And you’re an R3. And he can’t.
You - Wanna know what I’ve been doing?
You wait a few seconds just to let him start to think before you hit send on the picture you took of your tv that shows you’re watching some trashy reality tv show he hates. Or pretends to hate. Because he always knows enough about the last episode to talk to you about it. Maybe he hated it before you, maybe he still does kind of hate it, but now he watches it for you.
You - I’m sure that’s what you were thinking I was doing. Anyway. Did you make it home safely?
Robby lets out a quiet laugh. You’re so ridiculous. So perfect for him. He’s so spectacularly fucked when it comes to you.
R - Yes and I’m going to shower. You go to sleep
You - 😏😏 You - Alright I’m stopping You - Sleep tight and try not to miss me too much this week
R - Sleep well, Kid
Robby throws open the door to the stairwell and walks in. He’s shaking, closer to tears than he wants to admit to himself and he is pretty sure he has never felt this much rage in his life. All of his emotions, all the grief and loss and sadness and guilt have turned into anger.
And all because Langdon had to come back and then run his fucking mouth. He’s trying to calm down, to let go of the anger before he goes back out there and does or says something he’s going to regret because his mind is too clouded with anger. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he paces to try and burn off some of the adrenaline.
He replays the confrontation in his head over and over. Eventually he’s struck by one thing in particular. How the fuck did Langdon even know about what happened in pedes? You were the only one who saw him-
Robby stills. It feels like another part of his world is coming crashing down around him. The only way Langdon could have known is if you’d told him. Or you’d told someone else who’d told him. If you were gossiping about him. About something so incredibly private and intimate.
The door to the stairwell gets thrown back open and Robby walks further into the Pitt, head on a swivel looking for you. His jaw clenches when he sees you standing alone and charting. He stalks over to you.
“We need to talk.” The anger in his voice is palpable. And unlike the last time he sought you out, this time he’s not asking to speak with you. You saw him follow Langdon out so you assume it must be related and Langdon really must have done or said something. “In here. Now.”
He’s seething. He leads over to the supply closet and opens the door, walks in behind you, locks the door behind him. “What happened?” you ask, brows furrowed.
Robby just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to admit something. And you slowly realize his anger isn’t at Langdon or that situation or at anything else.
It’s at you.
He finally speaks. “I cannot fucking believe you.”
You shrink back at his words and tone. “What?”
“There are a lot of fucking people here who I would expect this shit from or not be surprised when they did it. But not you. Not fucking you,” he spits out. “How could you? How could you fucking gossip about that?” Robby tells himself the tears forming in his eyes are ones of anger and nothing else. “How could you betray me like that? I trusted you. I fucking trusted you.” His voice cracks on the second trusted.
To say you’re confused would be a massive understatement. Your stomach twists with anxiety. You don’t like any of this. You don’t like how he thinks you betrayed him or broke his trust. Because you’re not sure if your relationship could survive him truly believing that. “Michael, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The confusion written all over your face just pisses him off more. It’s like you’re trying to be the victim. “No. Don’t do this shit. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Don’t try to be the fucking victim. The very fucking least you could do at this point is own the fuck up to it.”
You are desperately trying to play your day through your head to see if you can figure out what he’s talking about, figure out what you did that apparently betrayed him and obliterated his trust. You and Dana talked during the day but you never told her anything, just expressed your concern about him and him saying and acting like he was fine. You and Jack spoke while organizing supplies, but again, you just expressed concern about him and how he’d react if something happened to Jake. You said nothing to either of them that they didn’t already know because Robby had told them. You have no idea how he could consider any of that gossiping.
“You’re really going to make me fucking spell it out for you, hm?” He bobs his head condescendingly.
Tears spill over your lash line and slide down your cheeks because of the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s treating you. Because you know exactly where this conversation is headed if he won’t explain to you and then listen to your response. Because he’s slowly breaking your heart.
“You told someone, Langdon or whoever the fuck else, about what happened in pedes. About me breaking down in there and being on the floor. You just fucking blabbed that to whoever,” he scoffs, a few tears running down his cheeks. Out of anger, yes.
But out of heartbreak too. You gossiping about this, you breaching his trust like this, shatters Robby. Because he loves you. Even if he hasn’t said it. He’s stupidly in love with you. He has been. He thought you were the one. That you were it. His end game. He pictured a proposal and a wedding and a house and maybe kids.
And then you broke his heart.
“Okay,” you sniffle through some tears. “I know you don’t believe me but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell anyone absolutely anything about pedes. I never would-”
“Well nobody else came in and saw me so how the fuck else would Langdon know? Hm?” he snarls. “You fucking gossiped about it. Like it was this casual thing.” He shrugs at you as more tears fall down his face and he glares at you. “We’re done. Because I will never be able to trust you again. Not with anything like that, with how I feel, to see me when I’m vulnerable. And I deserve a partner I can trust with that.” His anger slips for a moment, the trembling of his chin and the way his eyes soften into hurt and grief give it away. “We waited all this fucking time, I waited all this fucking time for you and you do this before we even hit six fucking months?” You can see when the anger returns as his primary emotion in addition to hearing it. “You threw it all away! And for what. For fucking what? Please tell me. Because I don’t fucking understand.”
You’re at a total loss. You know that it ultimately doesn’t matter what you say. Robby isn’t in a state of mind to truly hear or listen to anything you tell him and even if he was, he doesn’t want to. Not right now at least. He just broke up with you. For, as far as you can tell, nothing. Your heart is shattered just like his. You thought he was the one. You knew he was deep in your heart. He was always there when you pictured your future.
It takes you a moment to gather a few thoughts and calm your crying down enough to coherently talk. You clear your throat and sniffle before starting.
“You very clearly aren’t interested in listening to anything I have to say, but I’m going to say a few things anyway and hope you do listen, or think about them later. I did not tell anybody anything about pedes. I would never. Even now.” You take the briefest pause, worried that if you stop for any longer he’ll cut you off and not let you say anything else. “I love you, Michael. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I never said it because it felt like you weren’t ready to hear it or say it quite yet, or I don’t know, maybe I mistook things and you didn’t, don’t love me.” You shrug. “I was so proud of you when I watched you pull yourself together in the face of multiple things, any one of which let alone all of them combined would have kept most people on the floor of that room, and go out and save lives and rally a team and support others and hold others up while you were dying inside. And I really hope one day, that for yourself, you’ll be able to learn and speak with Langdon or whoever else you need to and know that I was telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone and never would’ve. I loved you, Michael. You were amazing today. You are so much stronger than you think or give yourself credit for. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself even through all the hurt, Michael.”
“No.” Robby shakes his head. He’s too angry and hurt and grief stricken to see anything clearly or even truly process your words. He stoops so that he’s face to face with you and you’ve never seen Robby look this angry and hurt. He makes sure you’re looking at him dead in the eyes as he speaks. “No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.”
He stands back up, unlocks and throws the door open and walks back out. Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just issue you your very own scarlet letter by telling you that you can only call him by his full name and title, a stark contrast to the intimacy of Michael and even the casualness of Robby that everyone, except for you now, gets to call him. Like he didn’t just break up with you. Like he didn’t just shatter your heart. Like you’re not even worth hearing out or having an actual conversation with or listening to. Like you’re nothing.
Pretty fucking cruel of the world for it to end where it started. In this supply closet.
You lock the door behind him and slide down it, give yourself a few minutes to quietly sob, thoughts racing. But you don’t want to do this here. You can’t and you won’t. You open a pack of gauze and use it to clean off your face, unlock the door and peek through it until you see a good moment and sprint to the bathroom.
You press a cold paper towel beneath your eyes. You know it’s probably pointless but maybe it’ll help a little. You’re focusing on thinking about how to get out of here and have the least number of people see you as possible. After a few minutes you toss the towel, splash some cold water on your face and dry off. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Marginally better, you guess.
You slip out of the bathroom and look around. You should tell someone you’re leaving. The only two you decide you’ll be able to bring yourself to talk to are Jack and Dana. You spot Jack first.
“Hey,” you greet Jack as you walk up to him. Janey has arrived and Robby’s over talking with her so the hub is free of him for now. “I’m heading out.”
Jack looks up at you. To anyone else it would seem like he didn’t react. But you know him well enough to see the slightest raise of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips turn down. You have a fake smile plastered on your face and even with the damage control you did in the bathroom, someone would have to be an idiot to look at you and not know you’d been crying. And you know Jack is far from an idiot.
You know he knows when his eyes leave you and go to Robby and then back to you. “Okay… We’ll probably do some sort of debrief and then I’m sure some people will go to the park. Robby’s probably going to be here for a little bit yet.”
“I figured, yeah.” You nod. “Thanks Jack.” You spin and start walking away before Jack can say anything further or Robby can walk back over or even look in your direction. You don’t want to feel it. You have enough already. His glare at you, livid and disappointed and betrayed and disdained and hurt. And even though you know why he’s with her, seeing him with his ex is hard. Especially when you realize you’re now just another ex for him to be seen with too.
You wonder if they’ll bond over their fear for Jake before they knew he was okay and get back together as you walk to your locker. You grab your backpack and take the back way out to limit the chances of anyone seeing you and manage to hit the street without encountering anyone else.
You have a few things of Robby’s in your locker that you’ll have to figure out how to return to him. More things at your place. You’re going to have to go home and still see him. Have his presence there. Thinking about it makes tears sting at your eyes. But you refuse to break down until you get home, you won’t do it even out here. You need to be home before you break down. About any of it. Robby or the mass casualty incident you just went through. And it’ll mostly be about Robby. Probably 99%. You’re numb to whatever it is you saw and went through, focused on losing Robby.
And as brokenhearted and sad and hurt you are, part of you is mad. That Robby could even think you would do such a thing, much less believe it enough to accuse you of it and end your entire relationship over it without a real conversation. You know it was a bad day for him. Beyond a bad day. Probably one of the worst days of his life. But that’s not an excuse or justification for how he treated you. He didn’t even listen to you, wouldn’t even contemplate it being possible that someone else saw him and he just didn’t see.
Part of you knows that with the day being what it was and what it became, Robby’s mind was trying to protect himself. That his mind could only see loss and grief and convinced him that you were going to leave him at the end of the day after seeing him like that in pedes. So when he saw an opportunity to control it, to set the terms of losing and grieving you, he took it and didn’t ask any questions.
Robby does not want to gather everyone and give some kind of debriefing speech, but he knows he has to say something to everyone. Once everyone is gathered he starts talking and as he looks around the group he realizes you’re not there. He tells himself he doesn’t care but he absolutely does. Even with how much you hurt him he misses you. He wishes you were here to ground him a little. He thinks he could forgive you, especially if you had an explanation. Maybe you didn’t mean to say as much as you did to whoever.
But as everyone walks away and goes back to whatever they were doing he slips back into anger because it’s an easier emotion to process and feel at the moment. You’re an attending now. It’s your job to be here for things like this. To stay for debriefings. No matter what might’ve happened in your personal life.
So when he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out and sees it’s you calling him he rolls his eyes and sends it straight to voicemail on the second ring. And he gets annoyed when you don’t leave a message and immediately call him again. This time he just lets it ring until it hits voicemail. Maybe you’ll get the hint this time, he thinks. He figures you must because you don’t leave a message again and don’t try calling him a third time or send a text. Robby gets involved in another case with Jack and one with Mel and doesn’t think much of it. An hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye.
When he walks out of one of the trauma rooms and stops at the hub the exhaustion finally slams into him full force. He’s hungry too, can feel his blood sugar dropping. His ability to regulate and deal with his emotions is going further out the window with both of those developments. Which, he presumes, is why when he sees Langdon walking towards the ambulance bay doors to leave he walks over to him quickly.
“Why the fuck are you still here?” Robby glances down at his watch. “I told you to leave over two fucking hours ago!”
“Why the fuck do you care? I’m leaving now.” Langdon doesn’t stop walking.
Robby stands there for a second watching Langdon walk away. He needs to know he was right. That it was in fact you who told Langdon.
“Hey!” Robby yells at Langdon and walks to catch up with him. “Who fucking told you?” He knows Langdon will know what he’s talking about.
“I’m not fucking telling you,” Langdon laughs dryly. “Unlike some people here I’m not going to rat out-”
Robby interrupts him by saying your name. “Was it her?”
Langdon laughs, shaking his head at Robby before he apparently realizes the question is serious. “You can’t be fucking serious.” Robby’s lack of response makes it clear he is serious. “Of course it wasn’t her! She would absolutely never spread shit about you, especially something like that. Someone else saw you in there on the floor firsthand. They’re glass fucking doors, Robby!” Langdon lets out an incredulous laugh.
Fuck. Fuck. Robby’s heart drops into his sinking stomach and everything starts to spin, his extremities turning to ice. He knows Langdon is telling him the truth. He knows he monumentally fucked up. He just broke up with you for nothing. He just destroyed your heart for nothing. He just shattered the most precious and important and meaningful person in his life. He just imploded everything for no fucking reason.
He just lost the best things in his life, your relationship and you, the person who kept him going. And he has nobody to blame but himself.
He vaguely hears Langdon start to say something else to him but he’s taking a deep breath to try to get his dizziness to pass and walking back inside. Robby thinks about how he spoke to you. The words he said. How he barely let you say anything and didn’t listen to what he did let you say. He’s not sure if the two of you can recover from this. He’s not sure he deserves you giving him a second chance. If anything, he’s more sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, if he doesn’t apologize and ask for a second chance.
His eyes skim across everyone on the floor he can see once he’s back inside. He walks by most of the rooms and doesn’t see you in with any patients. You’re not in the breakroom. Maybe the bathroom. He doesn’t want to stand around waiting though.
The roof. You saw him go up to the roof this morning because that’s where Jack was getting some air. He’d told you he was going up there to talk with Jack. Maybe you’re up there trying to clear your head. As he gets to the elevator and presses the up button it hits Robby. You could be standing on that ledge. You could be thinking about jumping. About disappearing from his life permanently. About really and truly leaving him forever. Nothing left but a grave to visit.
The only thing that stops Robby from turning to give into the feeling and be sick in the trash can is the elevator doors opening. He slips inside and hits the button for the roof, holding the close door button down the entire way up as though it really does anything. He tries to tell himself he’s just projecting his feelings onto you and that he has no reason to think you’re on the ledge.
Robby can’t decide whether he’s relieved that you’re not on the roof. Certainly he’s relieved you’re not on the ledge but it means he still doesn’t know where you are. He stands in the middle of the roof sucking in huge breaths of air trying to come down from the panic that’s starting to consume him. It’s not really working though. It’s just turning into hyperventilating.
“Well you’re almost in my spot,” Jack calls to Robby as he walks out onto the roof. “What is going on? She-”
“I fucked up Jack,” Robby blurts out. “I fucked up so so badly and I don’t, I don’t know if I can fix it.” He slips completely into hyperventilating at this point as it plays in his head again. Him destroying everything in that supply closet.
“Okay you’re having a panic attack, Michael-”
“No, no I’m not, I’m not, I’m just,” he’s shaking at this point, his body and his voice, “I just lost her and I, I, I…” Robby can barely put that three word phrase together.
“I promise you that you are having a panic attack, Michael, believe me I know.” Jack steps in front of Robby and catches his gaze. “You have to follow my breathing, okay?” Robby shakes his head for a second and squeezes his eyes closed trying to fight back tears before starting to nod. “Look at me.” Robby opens his eyes and watches Jack. He watches Jack’s exaggerated breathing and tries to follow it. By focusing so hard on following Jack’s breathing Robby’s mind stills for a few moments. “Alright, better?” Robby nods at him. “What the fuck happened?”
Robby’s quiet for a moment and turns and takes a step so that he’s not facing Jack anymore. It’s a little too much. “I broke today. During the middle of it all, after Leah.” Robby’s voice cracks on her name. “She found me crying on the fucking floor in pedes and helped me get through it and back.” Robby pauses and lets out a huffed laugh. “For this to make sense I have to tell you that Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and stealing meds. Fucking, I don’t even know what to say about that right now.” He can see Jack’s slightly surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, after everything calmed down Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay and he threw it in my face. What happened in pedes.”
“Mmmm,” Jack cringes in acknowledgment. Robby knows he knows where this is about to go.
“She was the only one I saw see me in there. So I assumed she told fucking Langdon or someone else who then told him. That she was gossiping about it.” Robby shrugs and sniffles. “I dragged her into that fucking supply closet with me and lost it. Asked her how could she, told her I couldn’t believe her, all while she was looking at me confused which just pissed me off more in the moment. She said it wasn’t her but I wasn’t listening. I barely let her speak. And then,” Robby pauses, lips trembling hard. “And then she said she loves me and is proud of me and she ended her last sentence with Michael and all I said was that she didn’t get to call me Michael or Robby. That it was Dr. Robinavitch to her. Then I walked out. I saw Langdon just now and he told me it wasn’t her and I know he was telling the truth.” Robby takes in and lets out a big breath quickly, sniffling again and wiping some tears away. “So I broke up with her and broke her heart for nothing. And I’ve been trying to find her to apologize as if she’ll ever take me back. She shouldn’t. I know she shouldn’t but I have to try Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “I have to try.”
Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to respond to first. He runs a hand through his hair and then drops his hands to his hips. “Yeah,” he draws the word out. “That’s…” he sighs. “You guys might be able to work this out. It’s very obvious she knows you and how you think, better than you probably, and she is so fucking in love with you,” he tries to give Robby a somewhat reassuring smile, “so, I don’t know. You have to try, I agree. But she left, Robby.” Jack glances at his watch. “Two hours ago.”
“What?” Robby whispers, turns back to face Jack. He glosses over everything Jack said to try and give him hope because he can’t take any possibility of false hope right now, as much as he knows Jack wouldn’t lie to him.
“When you were talking to Janey. She came up to me at the hub, looking like she’d just had the conversation you described with you and said she was leaving.” Jack shrugs. “I said we’d do a debrief and some people would probably go to the park after and that you’d be here for a bit yet and she said she figured that and thanks and walked away.”
“Did you actually see her leave?” Robby doesn’t know why the thought of you leaving and being at home in your bed sobbing, or having already sobbed yourself to sleep makes it all feel worse.
“No-”
“So she could still be here.” Robby nods as he says it. “She could have gotten involved in a case or something and not left yet.” He starts walking back to the elevator.
“Theoretically,” Jack agrees. “I think she probably left, Robby. You know her locker code? See if her stuff is there.”
“Yeah, yeah I do.” Robby nods as they step in the elevator. “That’s good, that’s a good idea.” He’s praying that your stuff will still be there. That you’re not at home alone crying over him and how he treated you and the end of your relationship. Because he doesn’t want that. He’s not sure anymore if that’s really what he wanted when he was so sure you gossiped about it.
As soon as he’s off the elevator Robby’s speed walking to the lockers, Jack following behind at a more normal pace. Robby hears Jack stop a few feet behind him as he opens your locker. Your stuff is gone. You’re gone. At home alone. Just like he didn’t want.
“Michael,” you pant as his lips move down your neck and to your collarbone where he sucks a bruise into your skin making you moan softly again. “We should stop, you, you should go home and get some sleep before work.” The hand in his hair tugs at it to get him to look at you.
It’s the night of your first date. After dinner you guys came back to your place. It started with just sitting and chatting on the couch, having another drink. Then you started kissing as you talked. Then you were kissing more than you were talking. Then you straddled him. And now he’s laying on top of you on your couch, bracing himself with his arms to not put too much of his weight on you. You have to have been making out like this for the better part of an hour. You’ve both been shamelessly grinding into each other, pulling little sounds you’ve always wanted to hear from the other. Robby’s painfully hard. Your underwear has to be soaked through or close to it.
“What?” Robby’s already halfway gone, mind hazy with thoughts of you. It takes a second for what you said to process. “What? No first date sex for me?” he pants softly. You know he’s teasing you, that he truly didn’t come here with any expectations and he would absolutely never pressure you.
“Nope.” You smile at him as you pop the ‘p.’
Robby groans a little at you as he moves off of you to sit normally on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. “Why not?” He pushes his bottom lip out at you a little as you climb into his lap. “That hardly seems fair.”
You give his bottom lip a quick nip before kissing it. “Because I care about you and this. Us.”
“But if there’s already an us…” he trails off with a raise of his brows at you. “And we’ve been basically dating for four years.” You snort a laugh and give him a look. “Okay, we’ve been close friends with feelings for each other for four years. That should count for something right?” He lets one hand rest at your hip and the other in your lap.
“In a way, yes, of course it does.” You run your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a little just to see the way his eyes flutter closed. “I still need to keep you interested though. Make sure you have a reason to ask me out again and keep me around.”
Robby scoffs as he opens his eyes. He gives you a look. “Kid, you really think that after pining for you and dreaming about you for four fucking years that I’m going to finally get inside of you and then just decide I’m romantically done with you?”
You shiver at his words and the thought of him inside of you. “Maybe I won’t be good in bed or you won’t feel a spark or it’ll be flat.”
Robby lets out a breath as he takes your face in his hands. “I can pretty much guarantee you none of that will be the case. Having sex with you is just going to make me more obsessed with you, Kid.”
You nod, give him a small smile and lean into one of his hands. “Maybe I just like torturing you.” A slow smirk pulls onto your face. “You made me wait four years. And yes I understand and respect and appreciate why. But I still think it means you can take me on a date for every year you made me wait, and then maybe I’ll let you put your cock inside of me, Michael.”
He groans, dropping his hands back to your hip and lap where they were. “So breakfast, lunch and dinner dates tomorrow?”
You giggle at him, lean in and give him a kiss. You love knowing how desperate he is. It makes you feel good. But while you and Robby have known each other and been dancing around this for four years, that’s almost what makes you feel like the sex is going to be more meaningful and like for some reason you should wait just a couple of dates. Because you could fall in love with Robby. Because you know you already are starting to fall in love with him. That you have been since you met him.
“No.” You shake your head at him. “But that was a great try.”
“Can I at least do four days in a row?” he whines.
You hum in fake thought for a few seconds. “I’ll allow that.”
“Good.” Robby leans in and kisses you again, deepens it when you open your mouth a little for him when his tongue presses at your lips. He’ll never get enough of this. Enough of you. He pulls away just a little before you’re both desperate for air and rests his forehead against yours. “I’m going to make you break before the fourth date.”
You chuckle. “Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael.” You pull your forehead from his and give him an almost sympathetic look. “You should know better than to challenge me by now. Because now that you’ve said it, I absolutely won’t let you break me.”
“Yeah,” he sighs the word, “I was trying so hard to be hot and sexy for you I forgot how incredibly stubborn you are.”
You roll your eyes at him playfully. “You know you don’t have to try, Michael. You just are hot and sexy.”
He just hums at you and squeezes your hip and thigh. “Come on, I’ll go. We both do need to sleep before work.” You sigh a little about it as you get off his lap and stand up. You don’t really want him to leave but you know it’s better to do it this way. “I’m gonna use your bathroom before I leave.” Robby kisses the top of your head as he passes you.
You get a thought and slip to your kitchen while Robby’s in your bathroom, quickly getting your bottoms off. You make sure your underwear adequately reflects how turned on and wet you got just from making out with him and then them off and get your bottoms back on. You tuck the underwear in the back of your waistband and pull your shirt down over them.
You wait for Robby on the armrest of your couch, smiling at him when he reappears. The two of you walk to your door together. “I had a really great time tonight, Michael.” You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt.
“So did I, Kid. The best time.” Robby’s hands find your waist again, just holding you gently. “Will you go on a second date with me?” he asks like you don’t both already know the answer.
“You know it.” Your smile somehow widens a little more and you have to fight to get it off your face so that Robby can kiss you when he starts leaning down and in. Neither of you are surprised or mad when the kiss turns into making out for a couple of minutes in front of your door.
You break apart naturally when you need air and you let your forehead fall to rest on Robby’s chest. After a second you pull back.
“Here.” You grab your underwear from your waistband. You let them dangle off your finger for a second to make sure Robby knows exactly what they are. “To get you through the night and proof you don’t need to try to be hot and sexy.” You smirk at him as you shove them in his pocket. “Took them off while you were in the bathroom. You can feel they’re still warm. And maybe if you’re good you’ll get a pair at the end of each date.”
Robby swallows hard, breathing picking up a little just at the beginnings of thoughts of what he could do with them at home and how you’ll know he’s doing something with them and how you want him to. He presses his palm against his pocket. They’re still warm like you said. A blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He has to close his eyes for a second as he tries to regulate a bit. “You’re gonna kill me, Kid,” Robby breathes out.
“I’m a doctor, remember? I would never let that happen.” You and Robby exchange soft laughs as he opens the door. “Text me when you get home safely please. Or on your way home.” You grin at him.
“I will.” Robby nods at you. You lean up and give him a soft and lingering kiss. It’s simple, but the perfect way to end the night.
“Have a good night, Michael.”
“Have a good night, Kid.”
There’s very little thought to it. Robby just follows the instinct that tells him to run after you. Doesn’t grab his backpack. Doesn’t say another word to Jack. He just turns and runs.
Robby knows that you’ll be at your place. That you won’t have gone to a bar or something. You’ll just want to be alone. He hates himself for it, hates the thought, can picture you curled up alone and crying or sniffling heavily in your sleep because you finally cried yourself out.
He books it to your place, comes close to being hit once or twice when making a few unwise crossing decisions. He’s panting hard by the time he gets to your building and fumbles with his key to get in the main door, taking the stairs two at a time as he hauls ass up to the third floor. He’s running on sheer adrenaline.
He doesn’t take a moment to collect himself when he gets to your door, just starts knocking. When you don’t answer he uses his key to let himself in. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should respect you not wanting to see him and wanting to be alone right now, but he needs to see you and apologize and make everything okay again.
But your apartment is dark when he steps in. Hot. Like the AC has been off because you’ve been at his the past week. You’d have turned the AC on if you were here. He checks anyway though. But you’re not there. Not in your bed or the shower or on your couch. And so Robby’s left a sweaty and panting mess as he closes your bedroom door and leans back against it.
He tries to take a moment to calm down, get his breath back, some focus back so he can think about where else you might be. But he can’t.
Instead, Robby slides down your bedroom door, bringing his knees to his chest and starting to cry again. Just like he did in pedes. It’s more sobbing this time, especially because of how hard it is to breathe, how out of breath he was before he started crying. Some of his tears are for the loss, Adamson and Leah, for his guilt at giving Jake his other ticket and thoughts that it should have been him to get shot and not Leah, for the damage to his relationship with Jake, for Langdon, for breaking down in the middle of an MCI and letting his team down.
But most of them are for you. The loss of you. The way he’s already grieving you while praying and hoping and wishing that he’ll be able to stop, that you’ll take him back and so he won’t have to keep grieving the loss of you in his life. For accusing you of something horrible like that. For yelling at you. For the way he snapped at you all day. The way that, although you were quick to shut it down most times, he took out a lot of his emotions on you over the entire day. Took out his emotions on you who was only ever there for him whenever he needed it. Who kept him together and in check. Who saw only the best in him and stayed. Who saw the worst in him and stayed. Who was proud of him. Who he needs to survive this. And for the way, he realized on his run over as he replayed the scene in the supply closet over in his mind, your tense changed. You love him to you loved him. Love to loved. An audible breaking of your heart.
Robby looks over at your kitchen. Maybe it would just be better for you and Jake and everybody if he just disappeared. If he just ceased to exist. He told you he wouldn’t. He promised you he wouldn’t. But maybe you want him to now. He’s tired of feeling. Of hurting. Without you he doesn’t really have anyone. Jake hates him. Jack and Dana will be fine without him. You have sharp enough knives. He knows exactly where to cut.
His phone ringing pulls him out of it for a second. He sniffles and clears his throat as he moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He knows it’s not you because you’d given yourself a special ringtone and it’s not the one playing.
It’s Jack. If you’re there at the hospital still with Jack then he won’t. He’ll keep his promise and run back. Apologize. Beg. Grovel. Anything. Everything.
“Did you hear from her?” There’s no greeting. Robby’s straight to the question.
“Robby, she’s here.” Jack’s voice is strained. He sounds exhausted, but more emotionally than anything. He sounds pained. Like speaking these words is physically and emotionally hurting him. He didn’t sound like that when Robby left. But Robby brushes it all aside.
“Oh fuck, okay thank you.” Robby lets out a sigh of relief and wipes at his face. He sniffles again and lets out a little laugh. Because at least he knows where you are. “Keep her there Jack, please. I don’t care how you do it, lock her in a room or use restraints, just keep her there. I need to talk to her. I need-”
“No, not like that,” Jack tells him, voice clipped, still strained. “Like-” Jack gets interrupted. Robby can hear what sounds like a door opening, muffled movement and beeping of monitors. He can just make out a female voice tell Jack ‘she’s seizing again.’ Jack’s voice is muffled like he’s holding the phone away from him but Robby can hear him say ‘yes’ to what sounded like the shout of a medication order, followed by Jack yelling ‘and where the fuck is neuro?’
“Fuck. You need to get here, Michael.” Jack rushes it out but Robby recognizes Jack’s tone clear as day because he’s used it so many times himself.
It’s the tone they use when stressing to family members that they need to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible because a loved one is about to die.
Tears start to stream down Robby’s face again because he knows. Robby knows exactly what Jack means when he repeats it. “She’s here.”
I know. 😶🥲😶🌫️😭
I've affectionately called this Robby's No Man's Land. It was named the same way too. Obviously there will be a Part 2 unless nobody wants one. 😂 I PROMISE that what happened in NML Part 2 will not be repeated in the Part 2 to this.
I hope it was okay and that you were able to enjoy! Again, I really love hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me serotonin and motivation and inspiration!! Liking, replies and reblogging are always so so appreciated! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming (or (lovingly) screaming at me I suppose)! 🙂
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Oh my god. Oh my GODDDDDD
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.
chasing ghosts
dr. abbot x f!resident!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, lots of angst, age gap, swearing, alcohol, mentions of child death/multiple casualties at the beginning during a shift words: 8.1K synopsis: you and jack share a kiss during your second year of residency and you spend the next two years trying to outrun those feelings. until the pitt's annual summer party. jack abbot is down absolutely fucking horrendously. like i meaaaaan unprecedented levels of yearning. a/n: hi, i think i blacked out while writing this. eyeeeee had so so much fun. i hope i did jack justice. let me know what you think!!!!
The annual summer party for the Pitt is an all day affair in order to make sure everyone, regardless of who’s working what shift that day, has a chance to stop in.
You wouldn’t think it, but the ER knew how to throw a good party. In the morning, it started with brunch at a place downtown with bottomless mimosas, top tier pancakes, and a drag performance. After brunch, they’d go hang out at the park by the river for a few hours before reconvening for dinner and bar hopping downtown.
Jack Abbot was off today, but still skipped all the morning and afternoon activities in favor of the evening. His sleep schedule was built that way now and even on his off days, it was rare for him to be out during the day. Besides, he was hoping he’d run into you there after your own shift.
You never came to these types of events, but that didn’t stop him from hoping every time. His eyes were always searching, hoping they’d stumble upon yours.
He hadn’t seen or spoken to you much in the last two years, since you switched to the day shift. When shift change occurred, you largely avoided him. He asked Robby about you and Robby always said the same thing, “She’s a great doctor, but she keeps to herself.”
It hadn’t been like that when you were on the night shift. You were shy, sure, but it hadn’t taken Jack very long to pry you out of your shell.
He wondered sometimes if you regretted it, now. Letting him in.
Now, he was making the rounds at the first bar of the night, not so subtly looking for you.
“You’re pathetic,” Robby teased as he sipped his beer.
“Huh?” Jack said, finally bringing his eyes back to the man in front of him.
Robby smirked knowingly, “She is here, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” He said, “But her boyfriend is supposed to be meeting her here.”
His heart stuttered in his chest, “Boyfriend?”
Robby nodded, “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone until today. I overheard her mention it to Heather.”
Fuck. Not only were you seeing someone, you were bringing him here, to meet everyone in the Pitt. You must’ve been serious about him, then.
“Do you know where she is?”
Robby tilted his head as he looked at Jack, “You sure you wanna go down that road?”
“I just want to talk to her.” He said, and it was true. Mostly.
The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation since the week before you had requested the shift change. That night on the roof. He felt it was long overdue for the two of you to sit down and talk about it like adults. Maybe Robby was right, maybe it was much too late for that.
But Jack couldn’t accept that.
Robby sighed heavily, “I saw her go upstairs to the rooftop bar with Heather and Samira twenty minutes ago.”
“Thanks, brother.” Jack clapped him on the back as he headed up the stairs.
***
You liked the quiet of the night time. Being awake and working when everyone else was asleep brought with it a sort of peaceful solitude you couldn’t quite explain.
But Jack hadn’t needed you to explain, he had understood it intrinsically.
The night shift, of course, could become hectic and even nightmarish at times. But if you stepped outside for some air, either on the roof or the ambulance bay, the quiet of the night cocooned you in safety.
And that’s where you were that night two years ago, on the roof and leaning over the railing, trying to catch your breath.
There had been a six car pile up almost immediately rushed in after the day shift had trickled out. Ten patients. Four of them were in critical condition when they arrived, in that terrible purgatory between life and death. For five hours, you, Abbot, Shen, and Ellis had bounced between them. Still, you lost all four of them.
You had kept it together for the half hour after you had called the last patient, despite the fact that you had felt Jack’s eyes on you the whole time.
But he seemed able to keep it together, to not fall apart, so you would too. The knee jerk response to impress him, to make him proud of you had never quite dulled in your two years of residency. It felt a bit fucking pathetic, actually.
Worse, still, that he seemed to notice how badly you craved his validation and so gave it freely.
“Hey,” He stepped close to you, his warm breath caressing your cheek, “Go take a break, I’ll come find you in fifteen.”
“I don’t need a break.” You said quickly.
“You do,” He said, undeterred, “You’ve been staring dead eyed at the board for the last two minutes. Shen tried to call you over for a code stroke thirty seconds ago and you didn’t blink.”
You turned to him finally, panic on your face, “Fuck, seriously?”
You started to walk to go find Shen and the stroke patient, but Jack grabbed your arm, “Nope, uh-uh. Break first. Now.”
It was rare that Jack wasn’t joking with you, trying to make you smile. Now he looked deadly serious. Like he would physically remove you from the floor himself if you refused. You must’ve looked like shit.
“Okay.” You said finally, “Fine.”
He released your arm, but his eyes trained on your every step as you walked away, “I catch you on a patient in the next fifteen minutes and I’m sending you home.” He called after you.
You raised your hand over your head in a thumbs up to signal that you’d heard and kept walking.
And that was how you ended up on the roof. Bathed in the moonlight with the quiet midnight streets of Pittsburgh below, silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you greedily sucked the night air into your lungs.
You weren’t aware of time passing and your mind had gone blissfully blank until you heard him come up behind you.
“How come you, Ellis, or Shen didn’t need a break?” You asked, your voice wavering, “Is there something wrong with me?”
He leaned over the railing at your side and turned his head to look at you, but you avoided his eyes, knowing they’d be soft and warm and inviting. You did not need to see him looking at you like that right now. Just like you had been trying not to notice the way he watched you more than the others, touched you more than was necessary, handed out praise to you more generously.
“Not even a little bit.” He said softly, voice rough, “You were perfect down there. Nothing else you could have done.“
You breathed out a shaky breath, “Then why does it feel so bad?”
“Because you’re human,” He said softly, “And because you were the only one of us to call time of death on a seven year old tonight.”
You swallowed, tilting your head up towards the sky so you could see the moon. A moon that seven year old kid would never see again. “Does it ever hurt less?”
“Fuck, no.” He sighed, “But it makes you a better doctor, I think. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself to try to make it all mean something.”
Finally, you looked at him, and the sight of your red rimmed eyes wrecked him, “It does make you a better doctor,” You hiccuped and gave him a small smile, “The best, probably.”
He shook his head, smirking, and looked down at his hands, “Careful, kid. You keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me.”
Feeling brave, you nudged your shoulder against his, “I mean it. I feel really grateful that you’re my attending. I wouldn’t want to learn under anyone else.”
He pushed his shoulder back against yours and your hands brushed where they each grasped the railing, “I came up here to make you feel better and somehow you’re the one comforting me. How did you get so good at deflecting?”
You laughed through your tears and he relished the sound, “I learned from the best,” You said pointedly as you looked over at him.
“See,” He pointed at you, teasing, “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better. You’re way less unsettling when you’re mean.”
You smiled and he found himself staring at your mouth, enraptured by it, really. The truth was, he had noticed the ways in which he was better when he was around you. Both as a doctor and a teacher. You made him want to be better. He knew he had been giving you more attention than the others, bordering on an inappropriate amount. And he knew, before he came up to the roof, that he’d have a hard time being alone with you and not imagining what you taste like or what your soft skin would feel like under his calloused hands.
He thought you felt the same, but you could be hard to read sometimes. Sometimes, he swore you leaned into his touch, other times you jumped away from it as if he had burned you. Sometimes you went whole days seemingly trying to avoid him, others you followed him around like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head and for him to tell you what a good girl you are.
But now, fuck, now you were gazing at his mouth, too. And he tried, really fucking tried, to rein in the desire. He shouldn’t have kissed you. And he would think about it every day for days and weeks and months and years how badly he wished he could take it back. Not because he didn’t mean it or didn’t want it, but because it had started this downward spiral of silence and distance until you were so far away he hadn’t really seen you up close in two years. If he could go back, he would’ve told himself it wasn’t worth it. Because having only this much of you day in and day out while he yearned for more was better than having nothing at all, than you slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
But he didn’t know then what he knew now.
Cautiously, he moved his face towards yours, waiting for you to pull back. But inch by inch he moved, and you stayed put. And when he was close enough to share breath with you, he met your eyes and was greeted with pupils that had completely devoured your irises. No color in sight, just an endless abyss of desire and want. Your breath faltered when his lips just barely brushed yours, and he stilled for a moment before his self restraint crumbled.
The kiss was hesitant and gentle, at first. Jack kept his hands to himself, slowly kissed you in a way that repeatedly seemed to ask Is this okay? Is this alright? Are you okay? Are you sure?
It was you who deepened the kiss first, tongue darting out to swipe gently at his lower lip.
And the cord between you, that was already so tenuous and frayed, snapped.
His hands shook as he touched you, moving from your waist, to your neck, to your face. It was like his body knew first what his brain didn’t, that he was taking too much and not enough, that hours and days and months and years of touching you would never satiate him anyway and he should just fucking quit while he was ahead. His traitorous mouth that moaned into yours was a bottomless, greedy pit and it could never have you, not really, not even as it sucked desperately at your neck in a useless attempt to mark you as his.
The marks would fade and you would fade from him along with them.
He thinks now he probably knew as soon as you pulled away, at the panic in your eyes, that he had lost you before he had even really had the chance to have you.
But he would deny it to himself, even as you ran off the roof ignoring the way your name came out strangled from his throat.
He would deny it when you didn’t look at him the rest of the night, when you pretended not to hear when he tried to talk to you after the shift change that morning.
He would deny it when you handed him your shift change request form after a week of avoiding him, asking for his signature as you looked anywhere but at him.
He would deny it when his broken voice asked “Is this really what you want?” and you only silently nodded.
Jack Abbot knew he had lost you, he wasn’t delusional, but he could convince himself it was only temporary. He was patient. So fucking patient. He’d find you again, when you were ready.
***
Jack could admit that you having a boyfriend had not been part of his plan. Not that he had a plan, more so an overwhelming sense that if he waited long enough, you’d fall back into him.
But you had still been fleeing the ER at shift change without acknowledging him. He was patient, but it aggravated him to no end, the way you seemed so unaffected. Sometimes it made him feel like maybe he had made it all up in his head and that you had never wanted him at all. But then the film would play on loop again in his head and he knew he didn’t imagine your blown out pupils or the way you deepened the kiss first or the way you moaned when his mouth plucked bruises from your neck like ripened strawberries.
You had wanted him just as badly, he was sure of that. He just couldn’t understand why you were still acting like he didn’t exist.
When he got to the rooftop and looked around, he found you first at a table in the corner, eyes glued to your phone. Another quick glance around and he saw Heather and Samira talking at the bar.
Perfect. You were alone.
When he crossed the roof and sat in the empty seat next to you and you didn’t immediately look up, he realized you had marked his presence on the rooftop as soon as he got here.
The man was like a fucking sonar to your brain. You knew when he was in the same room as you before your eyes could track him. Tonight was no different.
“You look like you could use a drink.” Jack said.
Oh, you hadn’t realized how much you had missed the pleasant roughness of his voice, how it soothed you effortlessly. It practically sent chills down your spine.
You swallowed, continuing to stare at your phone. The second you met those warm hazel eyes, it would be over for you, you knew. It was the reason you had avoided him so diligently the last two years.
“Heather and Samira are getting me one.”
He wordlessly held his own drink out to you. When you stared blankly at it for a few moments, he shook it lightly, ice rattling against the glass, “It’s just a tequila soda. It’s not poison.”
Against your better judgment, and perhaps to indulge that stupid fucking instinct in your head that demanded you not disappoint him, you took it from him. You did your best not to pay attention to the sensation that shot across your skin when your fingers brushed, but the traitorous goosebumps spread across your arms anyway.
You took a sip and handed it back to him, still looking at your phone.
“Why aren’t you with them at the bar?”
“I had to take a call.”
“From your boyfriend?” Finally, fucking finally, you looked at him. It was disdain all over your face, but fuck it, he’d take it. He smirked and held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t ask, Robby told me. Said he was meeting you here.”
Quickly, you looked back at your phone and he saw your throat bob, “He called to say he couldn’t make it, so.”
Jack watched you carefully, the way you frowned and your mouth turned down just slightly. You were upset, and not just at him.
“I’m sorry,” He said softly, but you scoffed at his apology and shook your head. And that pissed him off, “Look, you may fuckin’ hate me, but I still care about you and I mean it. I’m sorry if he stood you up. I don’t like seeing you sad.”
You rubbed at your forehead in agitation, “I don’t hate you. I’ve never fucking hated you. That’s the problem.”
Well, that was news to him. But he decided not to comment on it. He didn’t want to piss you off anymore than he already had, which seemed to be an awful lot considering he had just got here.
“How long have you been together?” You shot him that annoyed look again, “Christ, I’m just making conversation.”
“Right,” You said sarcastically and shook your head, but you answered all the same, “Two and a half years.” You said quietly. It hadn’t quite caught up to you yet, what you were admitting when telling him that. It took a couple of moments for your brain to catch up, but by then it was too late.
But Jack’s brain was already there, making the mental calculations you had long forgotten about.
Two and a half—? No, that—That couldn’t be right. Because that would mean—
Your face and ears had reddened and you wouldn’t look at him.
Jack’s ears were ringing. He started to say your name—
“Dr. Abbot,” Heather and Samira were back, the latter handing you a drink, “Catching up with your old resident?”
He forced a smile and stood, acted like his world wasn’t fucking falling apart around him, like you hadn’t just dropped a fucking bomb on him in casual conversation.
He was impressed with his ability to hold damn near cheerful conversation with Heather and Samira until he was able to excuse himself.
And this time, it was you who called after him when he left the roof.
“Jack,” Your voice was a soft plea behind him. It was a language he used to be fluent in, but clearly, he didn’t fucking know you anymore. He was starting to think he never had, “Jack, wait—“
He rounded on you in the stairwell, you still a couple of steps above him so the two of you were eye level, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
You seemed to be caught off guard that he had actually stopped, and just blinked at him for a moment, “What difference would it have made?”
“What difference—?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “All this time I’ve been driving myself out of my goddamn mind trying to figure out what I did wrong when it turns out I was your fucking, what, side piece? Affair?”
“Affair?” You hissed incredulously, “We kissed once!”
He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, “Does he know?”
“What?”
He was quickly becoming frustrated with your inability to keep up with the urgency this situation demanded. To him, at least, the whole world had shifted around him. And you were behaving as if he was the one acting crazy.
“Your boyfriend, does he know? About us?”
“Jack,” You said breathlessly, “There is no us. There was never an us.”
Jack shook his head, “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” You asked, exasperated.
“I’ve been pining after you for two fucking years and you’ve compartmentalized so goddamn well that you’ve convinced yourself it was nothing. That it meant nothing.”
For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of the version of you he used to know. Your face faltered for just a second, but then the walls were immediately back up, “I don’t owe you anything.” You said coldly, “It’s not my fault you’ve spent the last two years chasing a ghost.”
You stared each other down for a few more moments, the rage pulsating between you, before Jack broke your stare by tossing back the rest of his drink, “You’re right,” He said finally, and turned away from you to head down the stairs, “I’m sorry I disrupted your evening. Won’t happen again.”
You sighed, “Jack—“
“It’s Dr. Abbot,” He said coldly, turning back to face you again, “If you don’t mind.”
Your face fell marginally and he almost took it back when he thought he saw your lower lip wobble, but he couldn’t be sorry. If you wanted to pretend like there was nothing between the two of you, then he would do the same.
He turned again and jogged down the rest of the stairs. He needed another drink. Or seven.
***
Your hands were shaking. You stood in the stairwell staring stupidly after Jack for longer than was acceptable. You couldn’t go back upstairs to Heather and Samira like this, they’d know something was up. And you certainly couldn’t follow after Jack.
You should just go home. It was a stupid fucking idea to come here in the first place, you knew it was. And still you had come, why?
Because some part of you wanted to see him? No matter how much you denied it? Never mind the fact you had basically only invited your boyfriend because you knew his presence would keep you accountable if you were forced to be alone with Jack?
You hadn’t wanted him here, not really. Not for reasons that made sense. If you were honest with yourself, which you hadn’t been in a long, long time, your relationship had been over for at least six months.
Seeing Jack again, hearing his voice again made that very clear to you. And a part of you hated Jack for it. You had been able to convince yourself for two years that your current relationship was as good as it would get. Your mistake with Jack on the roof was just that, a mistake. Nothing more.
You had thought after all this time Jack must’ve felt the same. He fucked up and kissed his hot, younger resident, just once. He hadn’t meant to and he would be glad it was all over. You had been doing him a favor, you thought.
But when you had allowed yourself to look at him, really look at him tonight, that hadn’t been what you’d seen. In fact, he was angry with you. He had looked at you with such hurt and betrayal as if all this time he had been in love with you.
It didn’t make any fucking sense. You sat in the stairwell and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. None of it made any fucking sense.
You should go home.
***
Robby eyed Jack with silent suspicion when he joined him back at the bar and ordered two tequila sodas. He knocked the first one back in one go and then rested his head in his hands on the bar top.
“So it went well, I take it?” Robby asked mildly.
Jack glared at Robby and then looked back at his drink, “She has a boyfriend.”
Robby nodded, “Right. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, now.”
Jack shook his head and felt the tequila make its way through him, “No, you see, she’s had a boyfriend. Since before she moved to the day shift. The same one.”
Robby was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Jack knocked back his second tequila soda and ordered another.
“Alright, I can see you’re upset, but all the tequila sodas in the world aren’t going to make you feel better.”
“No,” Jack agreed, “But maybe it’ll stop me from thinking about her for just a while.”
Just then, as Robby was trying to subtly get the bartender to cut off Jack, Robby’s phone buzzed with a text from Heather.
What did Abbot say to Y/N? Found her crying in the stairwell. She won’t stop.
He sighed heavily and turned back to Jack, “You made her cry?”
“What?” Jack looked at him incredulously, “No.”
“Heather says she’s sobbing in the stairwell.”
Oh, he hated the way that sent an ache through him. There was a time when he would’ve taken off running to get to you if he had heard that. Maybe even just earlier today. Not now, though.
“Believe me, her eyes were fucking bone dry when I left her.”
Robby’s phone buzzed again.
Never mind. Finally got her to say something coherent. Broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. Nothing to do with Abbot.
Christ. Nothing to do with Abbot. Right, Robby thought and rubbed a hand down his face, somehow he doubted that very much.
Robby looked back at his friend, debating if he should deliver this news to Jack or not. But Jack was very drunk now and he’d probably just tear after you like a man on a mission. Neither of you needed that right now, Robby thought. He’d tell Jack in the morning.
***
Heather and Samira sat on either side of you as you tried and failed to explain everything to them. You were very bad at this. Having work friends. Shen and Ellis had tolerated you, always including you, buying you coffee, but you knew really you were mostly third wheeling. And you hadn’t minded it. You had always tried to draw a firm line between your work and personal life, which is probably why the situation with Jack fucked you up so badly.
Heather started again, “So you and Abbot—“
“Yes.”
“And that’s why you switched to the day shift.”
“Yes.”
“And Jack also wanted you moved to the day shift?”
This is where things got murky for you. Tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, “I don’t know what Jack wanted because I never asked.”
“He didn’t know about your boyfriend then, either?”
You shook your head slowly, “I thought the fact that I was his resident was excuse enough. I left because I didn’t trust myself around him and I thought it’d be easier on us both.”
“And today was the first time you’d really spoken in two years?”
“Yes.”
“And this one conversation spurred you to break up with your long term boyfriend on a whim?”
You looked at Heather and smirked, “So you’re getting it now? Why I should be institutionalized?”
Heather and Samira both laughed, but Heather shook her head, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re finally being honest with yourself about your feelings. Which is really fucking brave.”
“I say we go to the next bar and get very drunk.” Samira said, standing.
“Oh, I— No,” You shook your head, panicking, “What if he’s there?”
“Oh, I hope he is.” Heather laughed and the two of them linked arms with you.
***
Robby walked silently next to Jack as they made their way to the next bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “Brother, I really think maybe you should just sleep this one off.”
Jack turned to Robby, “It’s only 10 PM which is roughly 10 AM by my standards. So there will be no sleeping from me for a while. But you, by all means, can go home.”
Robby inhaled slowly through his nose. He was fucking exhausted, but he didn’t trust Jack in this state. And he had seen you go off with Heather and Samira not too long ago, headed in the same direction they were walking in right now.
So he kept walking, eyeing Jack every so often until they got to the bar.
He should have just gone home, probably.
Because once they got to the bar, all hell broke loose.
***
The room was spinning. The text had come in just moments after back to back lemon drop shots and your vision was blurred. You were unsure if it was from tears or the alcohol.
“Hey, what happened?” Samira was shouting in your ear over the din of the bar.
You passed the phone to her wordlessly as you ordered another shot. You needed to be belligerent if you were going to survive this.
Samira’s jaw dropped as she watched the video. She scrubbed back and forth a few times before she handed the phone back to you.
“This is the boyfriend who couldn’t meet you here because of ‘work’?”
You nodded.
“Well, you made the right call then, breaking up with him.”
You laughed humorlessly, and then you were sobbing, “I don’t know… why I care…” You hiccuped, “I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time.”
Samira sighed, rubbing a hand down your back, “It sounds like you tried really hard to salvage the relationship. Probably feels like a waste of almost three years of your life now,” This renewed your sobs and Samira looked at you with alarm, “I’m not saying I think you wasted three years, I just mean, it probably felt that way— I’m gonna go find Heather, she’s much better at this sort of thing.”
Alone, you ordered a drink and wiped at your cheeks. You knew Jack was next to you before you smelt his cologne and sighed heavily.
“Don’t worry,” He said softly, “I’m just getting a drink and then I’ll go as far away from you as possible.”
You only nodded. The man you had chosen to fight for had stood you up to go to a bar across town and make out with the coworker he swore for months you had nothing to worry about while your best friend unknowingly filmed him from across the room.
The man you were beginning to suspect had been in love with you for close to four years now, you had spent the last two years running away from and now he hated you.
It felt like a big cosmic joke.
You rested your head on your arms and willed him away so you wouldn’t have to confront the long string of bad decisions you’d made that had led you here.
But Jack just couldn’t resist when you looked so miserable, “Are you alright, kid? Hate seeing you like this.”
You pushed your head up and met his eyes. Despite your earlier argument, he was looking at you with tenderness and concern. He meant it, that he cared, you could see it all over him. It made you want to burst into tears again. And maybe that’s why you decided to poke the bear, see how far you could push, what would make him really, truly loathe you? It was what you deserved after all, right?
You turned your head away from him and unlocked your phone, tapping to the video your friend had sent, hitting play and sliding it over the bar top to Jack, “You’ll be happy to know this is what my boyfriend was too busy doing to meet me tonight. Some sort of fucked up karma, I suppose.”
Jack’s face betrayed nothing as he watched the video, but you thought maybe a muscle in his jaw ticked. He slid the phone back to you, “Whatever you think of me, I’m not enjoying this.”
You scoffed and shook your head, looking down at the bar top.
“I’m serious. I would never—“ You hear him sigh in frustration, “Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I wish you were hurting, too. If anything, if you were happy, maybe it’d all make more sense to me.”
He tapped his finger on top of your phone case, “That guy’s a fucking idiot. You deserve way better than that.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, carefully avoiding looking at him, “Hey,” He said and crooked a finger under your chin, gently pulling until you met his gaze, “You deserve better, okay?”
You were conscious of the fact that you wanted to kiss him. And you knew he saw the way your eyes drifted dangerously to his mouth.
“I did the same thing to him.” You said quietly, still staring at his mouth, “Only seems fair.”
Jack released your chin and shook his head, “Don’t compare what we did to… To that.”
He sounded disgusted and it made you want to laugh, “How is it any different?”
“That is just drunken lust.” He leaned towards you on his forearms, “What we did meant something. Maybe not to you, but it did to me.”
“And that makes it better?”
“Did it mean something to you?” He shot back.
His face was very close to yours now, you could smell the tequila on his breath.
“Tell me,” He said slowly, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you and I swear to God, I’ll walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”
You swallowed, blinking rapidly to clear the watering of your eyes. Of course you couldn’t tell him it meant nothing. You had thought about it nearly every day for two years.
But you were drunk and a fucking wreck and you didn’t know anything anymore except that you still remembered exactly what Jack Abbot tasted like and that he was looking at you right now like he would get on his knees for you in this crowded bar if you asked.
“I should go.” You whispered softly, broken, and slid from your bar stool.
He let you pass, but then called after you, loudly enough that people around you quieted, “What the fuck are you so scared of?”
You turned back, knowing that your face was flushed from the attention of others, “Goodnight, Dr. Abbot.”
***
“Hey, let her go,” Robby stood in front of Jack who was now trying to exit the bar and follow after you, “You’re drunk.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted, and when he looked around Robby, he saw it had started to downpour outside, “She’s drunk and it’s storming out there.”
“Heather will check in with her and make sure she gets home okay.”
Jack looked from the door to Robby a few times before sighing and running a hand through his hair, “Sorry, I just… She really gets under my fucking skin.”
Robby nodded and tried to stifle a yawn, “I noticed.”
Jack sighed, “Go home, Robby, seriously. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I promise.” He shook his head, “I should probably just go home, too.”
Robby offered a sad smile and clapped him on the shoulder, “It’ll all make more sense in the morning, brother.”
Jack snorted, “Historically, that has never been true for me.”
***
It felt pretty melodramatic to be standing in the park overlooking the river as it poured. It was all very Jane Austen of you, you decided. Except Mr. Darcy would not be showing up to declare his love for you, Mr. Darcy was likely dry and headed home in his UberX.
You didn’t know where home was anymore. Luckily, you hadn’t moved in with your boyfriend yet. It was one of the many things that should have been a red flag, the fact that you hadn’t had a desire to cohabitate with him. You liked when he left in the morning and you liked the nights where he got home too late and went to his own apartment so as not to disturb your rest.
But still, there were traces of him all through your apartment. You didn’t want to be there.
You’re not sure how long you sit in the warm rain before your phone buzzed. You expected Heather or Samira, but were shocked to see Jack’s name on the banner, alerting you to a text.
Jack hadn’t texted you in something like two years.
I know I shouldn’t be texting you, it read, But I just want to be sure you got home safe. Please text when you’re home.
After staring at your phone for a few minutes, now soaked with the rain, you attempted to dry the screen with the sleeve of your jacket. It worked only slightly, but allowed you to hold down the text and “like” it.
After about thirty seconds, the speech bubble appeared on your phone to indicate he was typing.
Well don’t just fucking like the message. Are you home?
You could lie, you supposed. Probably, you could walk into PTMC and sleep in an empty room upstairs.
But you were growing tired of all the pretending.
no. You replied finally.
His reply was immediate, Where are you?
in the park.
It’s raining.
excellent observation, dr. abbot.
You stared at the screen as his speech bubble appeared and disappeared, over and over, for a couple minutes.
Send me your location. Then, almost as an afterthought, Please.
This was a bad idea, probably. After the events of today, you should not be sending Jack Abbot your location. You should not be speaking to Jack Abbot at all. After today, you should probably resign from your residency and maybe join a convent.
You watched as seemingly of their own volition, your hands tapped all the right buttons to send Jack a pin.
A few moments later, he texted a screenshot of an Uber being sent to your location with the car information and license plate.
i don’t want to go home. You sent him in a rush.
Yeah, I got that, he replied, The Uber is bringing you to me.
You blew a long breath out between your lips, you sure that’s a good idea?
Nope. Uber’s pulling up now.
Sure enough, headlights lit up the raindrops behind you. You turned to see the car, quickly giving the license plate a cursory once over to make sure it matched what Jack sent.
You could send the car off. Say it was a mistake. Not get in. Showing up at Jack’s apartment soaked to the skin in the middle of the night, still drunk and emotionally unstable felt like boarding a train you knew would derail.
You still got in the car, though. You didn’t have anywhere else to go.
***
When Jack opened the door to his apartment, the frigid air from his AC assaulted you and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He stepped aside to allow you in and you kicked off your water logged shoes.
You had been here only once before, the first week of your residency. Jack would host a team dinner (early, so you could all still make your shift in time) whenever a new resident was added to the night shift.
You had been really nervous you recalled, until Jack had cracked a joke that made you choke on your soda.
It had been almost four years, but his apartment hadn’t changed much at all. It was neat and tidy, nothing out of place. The furniture was well taken care of, but everything was in varying shades of gray and blue. The only hints of personality being some pictures on his fridge, vinyls by a stereo, and some books on a shelf.
But one photo on his fridge caught your eye and before you knew what you were doing, you were walking to it.
Early in your second year of residency, you had presented your research on cardiogenic pulmonary edema outcomes in the ER at a conference in New York. Jack had shown up without telling you he was coming. He stayed near your poster all day while you presented to interested passersby, giving you a thumbs up or “solid work” when you needed it, smuggling you snacks, making sure you drank water. And at the end of it you remembered he took you out to dinner and told you how proud he was of you and what a great emergency medicine doctor you would be.
You had taken a picture with him in front of your poster and this was the photo on his fridge. You had a huge smile on your face and Jack had an arm wrapped around your shoulders.
“I didn’t know you had this.” You said softly.
He didn’t say anything so you turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on the photo, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” He said finally, walking by you to his bedroom.
You watched in his doorway as he pulled a pair of clean sweatpants and a t shirt from his closet and placed them at the edge of his bed, “The shower’s in that room,” He pointed to a door off the bedroom, “There’s clean towels under the sink, use whatever soap you like.”
He started to walk past you, but you grabbed his arm, and he stopped, eyes snagging on the hand that was touching him, “Thank you.” You said softly.
His eyes slowly roved upwards until they met yours. He searched your face, though you weren’t sure what he was looking for, then pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left the room.
***
After you were showered and changed, you wandered out to the living room where Jack sat on the couch, an arm draped over his forehead. He had taken his prosthetic off and it was propped up next to the coffee table.
When he heard you pad into the room, he cracked his eyes open, “Feeling better?” You nodded. “Good. Take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.”
But you still stood there, staring at him, arms wrapped around yourself, “Do you love me?” You asked, voice small.
He stared at you for a moment and sat up, running a hand over his face, “Have I not made it painfully obvious?”
“For how long?”
He shook his head and smiled at you incredulously, “You don’t get to do this.”
“Do what?”
“You’ve been in control of this,” He gestured between the two of you, “From the second I fucking met you and now you’re trying to what, decode the situation? See what outcome is most advantageous? I mean, Jesus Christ, what do you want?”
“What do I want?”
“Yes,” He said, “Not what seems correct, not what seems rational, what is it that you want?”
“I—“ You shook your head, “I don’t– I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” He said firmly, “Do you want your cheating boyfriend?”
You frowned, “No.”
“Did you ever want him?”
You huffed in frustration, “What do you mean?”
“I mean when you chose him over me, was that what you wanted?”
“That’s not a fair characterization of what happened—“
“Was it what you wanted?”
You faltered, “It was what was safest.” You said softly.
He smiled at you sadly, “He couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t love him, right?”
You stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears back into your eyes, “I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”
“You never gave me the chance to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”
You looked at him, eyes watering, and you swallowed hard before you moved to him. He watched you as you placed a knee on either side of his legs, straddling his lap. His eyes followed your every movement reverently, your face just above his as you rested your forehead against his. His hands knotted themselves in your hair, “I’m scared,” You breathed shakily into his mouth.
“Of what?” He asked, his mouth near centimeters from yours.
“Of you. Of wanting you too much. Of losing you. Of everything.”
“I can’t promise you that this will work,” He said softly, “But I can promise I’ll fight like hell to make it work.”
You swallowed, “Because you love me?”
Finally, he laughed, “Yes, I fucking love you. Now be quiet.” He said before he kissed you.
He tasted exactly like you remembered, except tonight, there were remnants of tequila on his tongue. It was like he was trying to make up for lost time, the way he kissed you on that couch. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost immediately, like he was searching for something he’d lost. Already, you were out of breath, hips grinding down on him without realizing. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently, groaning when you rubbed yourself on his growing erection.
“Slow down,” He chastised.
“You started it.” You reminded him.
“Fuck,” He moaned and then pushed you off him so he could crawl over you, “You’re sure?” He asked as you looked up at him, hair fanning around your head on the couch cushion like a halo.
You nodded, “I want you.”
He smirked and lowered his head to yours again, pulling kisses from you as one hand worked its way under your t-shirt. Your skin was smooth and soft there and he inched up slowly, until his fingers just brushed the underside of your breast. Touching you like this, he thought a lot about that night on the roof, the way he had kissed you like he knew he was already out of time.
Now… Now the world seemed to open up. He could take as much time as he wanted. You weren’t going anywhere, not this time. You were his and he wouldn’t let you go so easily again.
Gently, he tugged the t-shirt over your head so he could look at you and he was unable to suppress the sigh that tumbled from his lips. He squeezed your breast with one hand, thumbed your nipple and watched it pebble as you sighed. Still watching you, he pinched your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger and your eyes rolled back into your head as you writhed beneath him.
He kissed you, fingers still teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers, and then he began to kiss down your jaw and neck until he was able to suck your nipple into his mouth. The moan that fell from your lips when he swirled his tongue around you went straight to his cock.
He was overly conscious of the fact that because he had imagined this very moment for two years minimum, likely longer, because he had imagined it hundreds of times while getting himself off, it was likely he would last all of thirty seconds once he was inside you, once he felt the real thing. So he would make this last for you.
Jack shimmied the sweatpants off of you and forgot that because you were here and you had just showered, you weren’t wearing panties. And suddenly, he felt feral.
“Jesus Christ,” He shook his head looking at you, it felt like maybe he was dreaming a little, having you naked beneath him. He felt almost delirious with it.
You looked up at him, those pupils once again whole saucers, “Touch me, please?” You whined.
He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he reached a hand down between your thighs. You gasped as he fully sunk a finger into you. When he moved his mouth back down to suck on your other nipple, your back arched and it sent him into another dimension, being able to make you feel like this.
With two of his fingers pumping you slowly and a thumb on your clit, he felt the moment when you climaxed before you cried out, “That’s it, sweetheart,” He said softly, “Look so pretty when you come for me like that.”
As you caught your breath, you watched as he pulled his fingers out of you and then sucked your juices from his digits. “Taste so good, too.”
Your eyes stayed locked on one another as he reached for a wooden bowl on the coffee table. He took the top off, pulled out an aluminum packet, and closed it again. And suddenly you were giggling, “What?” He asked, ripping the package open.
“D’you fuck mad bitches on this couch or something, Jack?”
He rolled his eyes, but smirked, “Shut up.”
When he slid into you, forehead pressed to yours, you gasped at the sensation. You had thought about this countless times before, Jack Abbot above you, like this. What you had never really thought about was that maybe while he did it, he’d be looking at you like he was in love with you. And it nearly shattered you.
“I love you,” You murmured into his mouth as you felt him beginning to come undone, “I love you so much.”
He moaned your name as he finished and collapsed against you, damp and breathless, “You love me, huh?” He said after a moment.
You lightly scratched the back of his head, “I’ve loved you for years,” You said softly, “Just spent a lot of that time denying it.”
He pulled his head back and kissed you messily, your chin grasped firmly in his hand.
“Better late than never.”
I'm Okay
Summary: Robby’s girlfriend is a reporter with the local news station sent out on a field assignment she was exceptionally excited for, covering Pittfest
Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavich x Reader
Word Count: 5.5k
Warning: Pittfest fic! Mass casualty event, shooting, reader gets a bullet in the arm, medical inaccuracies, swearing, so much angst
Author’s Note: Took a break from my Jack fic to write an obligatory Pittfest fic because I don’t have one yet! Thank you so much for all of the kind messages notes and tags that you all have left on my work as I’ve said before it means the absolute world to me and I do read each and every one over and over again because I love them all. Thank you!!
The nurse behind the desk barely spared you a glance before waving you and Jake in, the two of you sharing a small smile as you bypassed the line of people waiting, shuffling back into the ER, pointedly ignoring the jealous glares that were being thrown your way from the waiting room as you did so.
Because the two of you were on a mission, get into the ED, grab Jake’s tickets to Pittfest then get out hopefully soon enough to give you enough time to get ready before you started your broadcast. You only had three hours of time blocked off to get this done so honestly you were cutting it close.
Your first stop once entering the ED was, as always, to Dana at the nurses’ station, the woman herself grinning as soon as she spotted the two of you entering, her eyes dancing back and forth between you and Jake with a small smirk. “Y/N on babysitting duty then”
“Definitely don’t need a babysitter” Jake cut in with an exasperated groan that had you and the charge nurse chuckling.
“Besides I’m working anyways” you cut in with a shrug “so he’s ditching me for a girl”
Dana’s gaze cut to Jake eagerly as she did her best to tamp down the shit-eating grin on her face.
“Who’s got a girl” Langdon, however, made no such effort, sliding in beside Dana eagerly making Jake duck his head slightly in response as he tried to hide his flushed cheeks.
Deciding to put the poor kid out of his misery you jumped in to save him “Today all I’m good for is gas money”
“That’s not true” Jack assured you with a mischievous glint in his eye, clearly not properly appreciating your save from Langdon “your press badge will let us skip the line too”
You elbowed Jake in the side fondly as he erupted with warm laughter, so distracted with getting your revenge you missed the footsteps that approached you from behind, jumping slightly when a hand at your hip was all the warning you got before Robby was pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head as he flew by. “I’m still upset you get to meet the girlfriend before I do”
He clapped Jake on the shoulder fondly despite the tease as he swung around the desk, Jake shrugging with a smirk in response “I like her better”
Robby snorted at the jab, eyes already scanning the desk for his next task. And you could see the exhaustion in him that had sunk to his very bones, could see the desperate need within him to keep moving, to distract himself. But you knew better than to call him on it now, knew he just needed to work through it in his own way, knew he’d find his way back to you at the end of the day.
So instead you threw an arm around Jake’s shoulders and pulled him into a dramatic side hug, jostling him roughly and enjoying the chuckle Jake let out at the motion “What can I say the kid’s got taste”
Robby sent Dana a fake exasperated glance as if to ask for at least one person to be on his side.
Dana responded accordingly “Don’t look at me like that I like her better to”
He knew better than to look to Langdon after that.
Someone on the other end of the room called out Robby’s name, and his body reacted almost reflexively to move him in that direction in response as he called out back at you “Traitors, the whole lot of you”
“Wait” Jake called out after him, realizing quickly it was of no use and dropping his voice down to a speaking level as Robby disappeared within one of the rooms “he has my tickets”
You snorted at his dejected tone “honestly that’s on you for thinking we’d be in and out of the Pitt in anything less than two hours” clapping a hand on his shoulder you pulled him in the direction of the lockers “come on I stashed a bag of m&m’s in his backpack this morning lets go for the record”
-
An hour later you and Jake had long since set up camp at Dana’s desk, you sitting in a roller chair on one end of the room with a bag of m&m’s in hand calling out to Langdon who sat in his own chair on the other side “What color?”
“Red I need the contrast” You snorted at his genuine use of strategy, shaking your head as you dug through the bag, feeling the newcomer approach from behind more than see them.
“Going for the record?” You could hear the amusement in Collins’ voice even as she pretended to be exasperated by it.
You grinned up at her in response “nine feet, that’s gotta be worth at least a page in the Guinness book right”
“Least he’s good at one thing”
“I heard that” Langdon called out across the Pitt making the two of you laugh before she called back
“You were meant to”
Finaly spotting the correct colored piece you held it up dramatically, extending it to Jake as if for inspection, the kid nodding solemnly before declaring “with this piece we make history”
You snorted at how seriously they both took this, hearing Collins hide her own in her sleeve as you lined up the shot, mimicking the movement a few times before finally letting it fly.
Langdon tracked the movement with a level of concentration you’ve only seen him use in trauma situations, dipping his head slightly at the last minute just in time to catch the m&m directly in his mouth.
He was on his feet as soon as it landed with a yell, tossing a dramatic double high-five at Jake in celebration as you dissolved into a puddle of giggles on your chair, Robby joining the group just late enough to miss the record shattering catch that sparked the reaction.
“You guys are still here?”
And you couldn’t help but sober slightly at the question, worry rising within you as you started to realize how much he was throwing himself into his work today. You’ve wasted a lot of time in the Pitt waiting on him before, but never had he fully forgotten you were here.
“Yeah we need the tickets” Jake responded good naturedly, Robby’s brows rising as he realized his mistake and having Jake follow him back towards the lockers to grab them.
Langdon and Collins took that as their chance to break off as well, giving you the opportunity to slide your chair up along side Dana’s “How’s he doing?”
“He says he’s fine” She sent you a look that told you she believed that about as much as you did, making you shake your head “just need to get through this shift and he’ll be alright”
“Yeah” you sighed doubtfully, putting on a small smile as you watched him and Jake emerge with the tickets in hand, Robby’s smile noticeably lighter after the interaction.
Jake started to make his way out of the ED as you rose to meet Robby behind the desk, giving him a quick peck and a light squeeze on the arm.
“Be careful today”
“Course” you shook off his worry easily, knowing that between the two of you there was only one who warranted such concern “take a break here soon yeah? Just a quick breather”
“I’m fine” he started to brush you off, cutting himself off at the raise of your brow, another call of his name pulling him from the moment with a tired sigh “I’ll try”
“Thank you” You smiled up at him, giving him one more kiss before stepping back, allowing him to dive back into the chaos of the Pitt.
“You know you’re the only one that can do that” Dana commented with a smirk from the desk as you started to gather your things.
“Yeah well we’ll see if he actually listens” you sighed as you finally pushed your chair back into its proper place, taking a second to give Dana a hug goodbye “look after him yeah?”
“Don’t worry I’ve got him” she assured you with a smile, stepping back as you let her go and started towards the doors to the waiting room.
“Have fun at Pittfest” she called out after you “call when you can”
“I will” you called back with a chuckle, pushing open the doors to the waiting room and joining Jake as the two of you exited the building, gladly listening to him rattle off all of the bands he and Leah were excited to see play that day.
-
Robby needed this shift to end.
It was the shift from hell, every resident he knew and trusted were gone, he was left with a heard of medical students on their first day, and now Dana was talking about quitting as well.
He needed the shift to end then he needed to hibernate for the next week straight.
Then Dana’s phone rang.
He didn’t think much of it at first, another trauma inbound, some more time to beg the one last person on his side to stay with him.
Then he watched her face drop, a look he wasn’t used to seeing on the infallible charge nurse. It wasn’t exactly surprised, wasn’t exactly sad or even shocked, it was haunted.
He furrowed his brow slightly, tilting his head to try and get a better read on her.
“Turn to channel 8” her voice came out hoarse, soft, without any weight behind it as if she couldn’t comprehend the words herself.
“What?”
“Turn to channel 8” she didn’t bother responding to him, this time pitching her voice louder to ring out across the Pitt.
“Dana?” he tried to call her attention back to him but she ignored him, clutching the phone she’d already hung up tightly in her grasp as she glued her eyes to the screen.
A familiar voice rang out across the room as the channel was changed. Nancy he realized, the lead anchor for the local news station, came onto screen. You’d introduced her to him once, you two were close at work.
Her red rimmed eyes were the first thing he noticed.
“We bring you breaking news tonight with reports of an active shooter at Pittfest the city’s summer music festival”
And Robby’s mind went blank.
There was no struggling to understand, no attempt to even process the news, just flat out rejection of the base premise. Those words simply did not go in that order, they couldn’t. It didn’t make sense for there to be a shooter at Pittfest, Jake was at Pittfest. He was here earlier, goofing off with Langdon before grabbing tickets from him he couldn’t be in any danger. He was happy, he was excited, there couldn’t be a shooter. You were at Pittfest, you’d been excited for the field assignment, your favorite band was playing, there couldn’t be a shooter.
“We go live now to field reporter Chuck Newcastle who’s on the scene now, Chuck are you with us?”
Another sentence that didn’t make sense. You were the reporter on the scene. You were the one they had sent. It was supposed to be you they went live to.
His gaze sought out Dana’s only to see the woman already looking at him. She looked panicked but that couldn’t be it, Dana didn’t get panicked, she ran the ED, she wasn’t allowed to panic.
“She’s supposed to be there” His voice sounded hollow even to himself as he watched Dana’s face crumple in response, eyes casting desperately back to the screen for answers.
He wasn’t sure the Pitt had ever been this quiet before.
“As you can see behind me first responders are currently on the scene and taping off areas as they attempt to apprehend the shooter” Chuck started to describe the situation with a hand on his ear, listening to the earpiece within it, continuing on without a hiccup “we have a reporter who was inside the festival area at the time of the event, out own Y/N Y/L/N. We’ll play a clip of her broadcast here in a second, but viewer discretion is advised”
He hadn’t realized how much of him had been hoping there’d been some sort of mix up until that moment. That you had backed out at the last minute, that they hadn’t actually sent you in, that you’d been lying to him about your plans for the day the entire time, anything that would keep you from being there.
A few heads turned in his direction at the news and he could see the hesitation on their faces, could see the silent questions they sent one another, could see the pity creep in as the Pitt all collectively wondered if they were about to see Dr. Robby’s girlfriend get shot on camera.
A hand reached for the dial and the command was out of him before he could think
“Don’t”
There as an unfamiliar edge in his tone, an unquestionable authority, a deeply buried fear masked by anger.
The hand retracted and you appeared on the screen.
“Hi my name is Y/N Y/L/N and you’re joining me here at Pittfest-“ you launched into your intro with a smile on your face and Robby drank it in greedily, heart stuttering in his chest as he desperately held onto that smile even if it was just your fake one you used for the camera, committed your voice to memory even if it was the falsely sweet one you used for reporting.
Then it all broke down.
Your report came to a screeching halt as a loud crack sounded through the background, an unnatural moment of stillness passing as the world around you froze, as everyone around you struggled collectively to comprehend, to react.
Your gaze suddenly strayed from down the lens to behind it, to your camera man, a silent question in your eyes before another shot sounded.
His heart leapt as you flinched this time, knees bending reflexively to get lower. A man in the background collapsed and instructions leapt to his throat unbidden, a silent plea to get down, to get under cover, to hide, to do something.
Instead you went after the man.
He could’ve screamed.
The camera crashed to the ground as it was dropped, the entire scene going sideways with you still barely in frame as you pressed firmly down onto the man’s chest, too far away for the audience to make anything out.
The scene suddenly cut back to Chuck.
His eyes stayed on the screen long after you left it, willing you to come back, willing them to cut back to you, willing for some sort of sign that you were okay.
He felt Dana’s hand being placed hesitantly on his shoulder bringing him back. He pushed her off without a second thought, launching headfirst into his leader roll “okay everybody listen up as the nearest trauma center we are going to be getting most of the victims”
“Robby” Dana tried to call his attention
“we need all the narcotics, paralytics and sedatives that we can get our hands on” he ignored her, delegating tasks off rapidly to anyone that would listen.
“Robby”
He ignored her again, avoided the pity in her eyes, avoided everything. “We also need to establish a temporary morgue we’ll take peds for now”
“Robby”
“Dana I can’t” He didn’t mean to blow up at her, to raise his voice, to make her physically recoil back from him. With a deep breath he tried desperately to reign it in. “I can’t do this right now, I can’t think about-“ he cut himself off, stopping the line of thought before he could get to any referral of you, severing the link in his mind before it could spiral “I can’t”
“okay” she nodded in response, a steady mask slipping into place though he could still see it in her eyes, appreciating the gesture nonetheless. “what do you need me to do”
Work, he could focus on work. He could distract himself with work. Work was good. “Gurneys, make sure all the gurneys and wheelchairs you can get your hands on end up in the ambulance bay. And see if you can get ahold of Jake or even Janey” she nodded eagerly at the instruction, happy to be able to do something, he’d have to thank her for that later, “and” he continued hesitantly “just at least see if you can get ahold of-“
“I will” she cut him off before he could get too far into it, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze before ushering him off.
Work, he could do work.
-
You don’t remember much after throwing yourself into the bed of some guy’s truck. Lying flat out on your back on the hard aluminum and closing your eyes, registering nothing until suddenly a hand was tapping rapidly on your cheek.
You cracked your eyes open at the sudden movement, coming face to face with a wide-eyed Ellis hovering over you.
“Fancy seeing you here”
She didn’t laugh, instead made eye contact with Shen on the other side of the vehicle, the two sharing a silent conversation before shouting Jack’s name in unison as Ellis slapped a pink bracelet on your wrist.
“shhhh I’m fine” you pointedly ignored the way the words slurred slightly on their way out while Ellis ignored their meaning all together, gingerly helping you out of the car and towards a gurney.
“It’s just my shoulder I can walk” you tried to protest as she forced you down, a familiar head of salt and pepper curls appearing behind her in a rush, a string of curses slipping out of him at the sight of you. “Thank you Jack tell Ellis I’m fine” You used your good arm to try and fend her off as Jack pulled a penlight out of his pocket and shined it directly into your eye “Dude it’s my shoulder not my head” you protested, bringing a hand up to rub away the shadows he burned into your vision.
“Lay back or I’ll strap you down” he threatened and though Jack was usually on the gruffer side you couldn’t help but notice the edge in his voice, that being enough to make you finally lay back and let them wheel you through the doors without a word.
Ellis followed, pushing the gurney, as she rambled off numbers you didn’t understand to Jack as he started to peel away the strips of fabric you’d been using as a dressing from your shoulder making you wince.
“Go find Robby and get him over here now” he instructed Ellis without looking up at her “Take over whatever he’s doing if you have to just get him here got it?”
She left with little more than a nod.
“How’s he doing?”
The corner of his mouth ticked up at your question for a second, hands moving fast to try and stop the bleeding “not really the priority right now sweetheart”
“Well that doesn’t bode well” you hummed back lazily, letting your eyes rest for a second.
Jack jostled you by your chin suddenly, forcing your eyes back open and on him “absolutely not, you’re not allowed to shut your eyes till Robby’s here”
“Robby then nap”
He huffed at your response then went back to digging harshly into your shoulder “Robby then nap”
Forcing your eyes to stay open was harder than you thought it would be even with the sharp pain of Jack working on your shoulder, the loud murmur of the hospital in complete chaos around you, the distant sound of your name being called.
Forcing your vision to focus you realized there as a familiar looking doctor now hovering over you with wide eyes, your familiar looking doctor hovering over you, a panicked look on his face as he stared down at you.
“Hey”
He relaxed slightly at the sound of your voice, barely enough to be noticeable but it was better than nothing.
“You’re here” his voice cracked as he said it, a hand coming up to run soft fingers through your hair before you were interrupted by Jack’s small “got it” and a small ting ringing out as he dropped a small metal object into a metal tin.
Robby’s gaze hardened as he eyed the bullet Jack had just dug out of you, wordlessly taking over for his friend and yelling out your blood type without having to check with you first.
Dana descended on the scene as if she’d been waiting just feet away, hanging a bag of blood on the pole by your head before hovering over you in the spot Robby had just occupied “you were supposed to call me”
“Sorry I got a bit caught up” you responded with a lazy smile, faintly registering Dana’s hand tangling in your hair as she smiled down at you.
“I don’t forgive you yet”
You snorted at that, eyes starting to drift closed once again before you heard your name being called.
A vaguely familiar looking man appeared over Dana’s shoulder, introducing himself as a fellow reporter and talking just a bit too fast for you to keep up “you were there right? Did you see-“
He hadn’t even gotten the whole question out before Robby was yelling out Jack’s name through clenched teeth, the physician entering your field of vision swiftly to grab the reporter by the hood on his sweatshirt and yank him back from you roughly, everyone ignoring the chocking noise he made as he gagged on his own neckline.
“Jake” you remembered suddenly, calling out the name as your hand shot out to desperately grab for Dana, the only person within reach “is Jake okay?”
Robby never answered, stern frown locked into place as he stared down at your wound as he worked, leaving Dana to fill in the gaps “he’s fine don’t worry Jake’s fine”
“Good I sent him ahead in someone’s truck” you nodded weakly, relaxing back onto the gurney “wasn’t enough room for all three of us”
Robby scoffed from beside you, eyes never leaving your shoulder even as he spit out “there was enough room”
Neither the time nor the place you decided as you let it go for now, sharing a look with Dana but electing to stay quiet while Robby finished. The man himself not relaxing until he had tied off your last bandage, fingers hover over the wound a second longer than necessary before his eyes finally cut up to meet yours, the corners of them wet as he swallowed “it’s done, you’re okay”
And you knew he wasn’t talking to you when he said it but you nodded along anways, taking his hand in yours with a squeeze “I’m okay”
His other hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb grazing over the skin softly as his eyes danced back and forth between your own “you make me intubate you I’ll never forgive you”
You snorted at that as you sniffed, not realizing how close you had been to crying until you were trying to speak around the lump in your throat “just a nap I promise”
“I’m holding you to that” he whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary before straightening back up.
“I love you” the words spilled out of you before you could even think to regret them, finding that you didn’t mind if you hadn’t said them before, or if this was probably the worst time to say them, it didn’t make them any less true.
Robby responded without thought, grabbing your good hand to press a kiss to the back of it, whispering the words back into your skin before nodding to Dana, letting the woman wheel you away “I’ll see you in an hour okay”
“One hour” you repeated weakly, nodding as you relaxed further back into the gurney, falling fully asleep before you had even reached your destination.
-
You woke to find you’d been given your own room at some point, not all that surprised Robby had pulled some strings to get you tucked away from the chaos of the Pitt, not all that surprised to see the man himself knocked out in a chair beside your bed looking incredibly uncomfortable.
You needed to sit up and get a drink but knowing Robby needed the sleep you did so slowly, desperately trying to minimize the noise as much as possible. You barely got a few inches up off the mattress before you heard him come to with a loud breath.
Taking a mere second to catch his bearings, he was by your side quickly, helping you up with soft whispered easys.
“Thanks” you whispered back to him almost afraid to break the silence in the room as he arranged the pillows around you comfortably to sit. He was handing you a glass of water before you could ask, gently pushing your hair out of your face as you greedily drank, wordlessly grabbing the cup from you to set aside when you were done.
“How’s your shoulder any pain?”
You shook your head waving off the concern “I’m fine it’s manageable”
He eyed you skeptically but didn’t say anything in response, your first warning sign that something was up as he didn’t press, didn’t insist.
Reaching out you tangled your fingers into his, giving his hand a small squeeze, relieved to find he didn’t pull away as you did so. “You look tired”
He huffed at that, taking your entwined hands up to rest against his lips as he leaned on his elbow against the bed, watching you for a moment “I had a long day” Another deep breath, a shake of his head “I had a really long day”
A pause, an internal debate you could see written on his face, and a small sigh before he pushed ahead “seeing your broadcast really didn’t help”
You winced internally at the statement, already knowing where this conversation was going.
He must have been able to read your reaction on your face as he nodded, carefully taking your hand and untangling his fingers from it, setting it gently back on the mattress before harshly digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. “yeah I saw that”
“Robby I-“
“You ran towards the guy who had just been shot” he cut you off with a glare, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.
“I wanted to stop the bleeding”
“You didn’t know where the shots were coming from, didn’t know where the shooter was first” Again he shut you down “You should’ve went for cover, should’ve gotten down, I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain that to you” His voice got louder and louder as he went on, refusing to make eye contact with you as he went.
“I couldn’t just let him bleed out”
“And look where that got you” his gaze was cutting, his tone harsh “he’s still dead and you’re here with a bullet hole in your shoulder”
“That’s not fair”
“I don’t care about fair” he took a pause, took a deep breath, maybe he realized he’d started yelling at you or maybe just realized if he pushed any further he’d start to break down, you weren’t sure which was true “I care that god forbid you’re ever in a situation like that again that I know I can trust you to at least try and keep yourself safe instead of running directly into the next bullet”
“That’s not even when I got hit” The defense sounded weak even to you but you couldn’t help it, couldn’t take him looking at you with such disappointment, such frustration.
“I don’t-“ He cut himself off, forced another deep breath, forced himself to calm back down before continuing “tell me then was is before or after you sent Jake ahead”
“Robby”
“Was it before or after you sent Jake ahead”
You stared back at him in silence, setting your jaw, knowing there was no getting out of the question, knowing that the answer would be easy enough to get from other sources anyways. “Before”
He swore loudly as he stood up suddenly, pacing the room at the foot of your bed anxiously as he ran an exasperated hand through his hair.
“There wasn’t room-“
“That’s bullshit and you know it” he cut you off with a glare “you had a bullet in your shoulder you could’ve squeezed in there easily so why the fuck weren’t you in the car when it left”
You stayed silent beneath his gaze, offering no defense.
“Y/N”
“There was a kid” you shouted back in frustration, practically exploding with the phrase before taking a page out of his book and pausing for a deep breath “there was a kid crying alone and I couldn’t leave him there”
“So you grab him and take him with you”
“Leah didn’t have time for that” you dropped your voice at that, both of you knowing it was true, neither of you particularly liking it “I couldn’t look Jake in the eye and ask him to risk his girlfriend’s life for a random kid”
“So you just decided to do it to me”
You were taken aback by that, those words hitting you harder than you had expected, you hadn’t considered it like that before “That’s not fair”
“There were no more ambulances” he shot back quickly, putting his hands on the end of your bed and leaning into them “the roads were shut down, no one could get through that very well could’ve ben your last chance to make it here and you just let it go”
You clenched your jaw but stayed silent as he made his way back to your bedside, bending down slightly to capture your gaze, keeping your eyes locked on his.
“You risked at best decreased functionality in your hand. And at worst? Infection, losing the entire arm, blood loss, getting hit again”
And you knew you should let him finish, let him get it out, let him unload. Instead you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him.
Robby cut himself off immediately, his entire body freezing beneath your touch. He stayed like that for several seconds, his entire body tensing within your hold, long enough to make you start to doubt if you had just made everything worse, before he finally brought his arms up around you in response.
He robotically positioned them around you, steadily tightening their hold on you as he finally started to relax, softening further and further into the hug before he all but melted into you. One arm tightened almost uncomfortable around your waist while the other bunched up the back of your shirt into a fist as he buried his nose into the base of your neck, holding you as closely as possible, clearly afraid to let go.
“I thought-“ the words were thick as he whispered them into your skin.
“I know” you cooed softly, tightening your arms just as much around him “I’m so sorry Robby”
You stayed like that for long enough to grow uncomfortable, your back starting to ache at the awkward angle, but you didn’t dare move, not until he did, not until he was ready.
Slowly he sat up straighter. Hands snaking along your back and up to the nape of your neck to hold you in place, to keep you close, his face coming back just far enough to keep your noses from bumping.
“We’re going to have a fight later”
“I know” you nodded with a wet chuckle, refusing to let go of his sweatshirt long enough to wipe away the tears.
“I am so angry with you right now” his voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
“I love you”
The tips of his mouth ticked up at that, just barely but it was enough.
One of the hands that were at the nape of your neck moved to cup your cheek, wiping away the wetness from your skin for you “I am so fucking glad you’re okay”
You couldn’t help but laugh again at that, the sound ringing out tragic and broken but still a reprieve from the day, a single band that had been tightening around your chest loosening at it.
“me too”
Lost Boys Part 2
Pope Cody x OC x Baz Blackwell CW: grief, drinking, drugs, canon typical violence, slow burn, potential love triangle, heavily inspired by canon but not accurate Please comment and reblog <3
"So, Mrs. Du-"
"Ms," Natalia corrected. "And it's Reed."
"Oh, sorry. I thought you-"
"Widow," Natalia cut off the interviewer once again, making herself internally wince. She attempted to relax into her chair. The residual energy from last night's nightmare was making her off her game. She played it off with a sad smile, fiddling with her ring finger to feign nervousness.
The older woman, Connie, caught the movement immediately, her eyes growing sad. She lowered her reading glasses and nodded with understanding.
"I went back to my maiden name after my first husband. I understand the appeal of wanting to grasp onto normalcy."
Natalia remained quiet with a simple, polite smile.
The reading glasses went back up during the silence.
"So, then, Ms. Reed. Tell me something about yourself that's not on your resume."
Natalia's eyes squinted with a practiced glint in her eye. Her voice barely sounded like her own as she rambled on about going to museums and painting on weekends. The charming small talk was simply a game to her, an easy one.
"A move from New York is quite a big one," Connie commented. Natalia shrugged.
"Felt like coming back home was the right thing to do."
"And where are you living now exactly? You left that blank."
There was small pinch in Natalia's chest.
"I am still working on that. I am currently staying at hotel in Morro Hills."
"So, no permanent address then?"
Natalia responded with a headshake. She had the money, the resources. But anytime she found a place where they accepted her cash and didn't ask too many questions, the pen froze in her hand and the nightmares would get worse.
"Any friends or family that could be of help?"
"No, it's just me."
Connie gave a heavy sigh and removed her glasses once again. Natalia's heart sank as they settled on the table.
"Well, Ms. Reed you seem like a woman who appreciates directness so I am going to do just that. Your resume is quite skim-"
"I was an art dealer for over 5 years-"
"Yes, for your husband's private firm."
Nat began with a light chuckle, but was cut off by Connie raising her resume.
"With a very large gap before that. You have no experience, no permanent address. Ms. Reed, I feel for you. I really do. But perhaps you should take some time, gain some more experience, and then come back to see us."
Natalia felt her mouth fill with iron. The inside of her lip fitted between her teeth tightly, hidden behind a tight smile.
"Thank you for your time."
"Ms. Reed, your resume--"
"Keep it."
---
An idiot. A moron. A batshit, crazy woman.
All things applied to Natalia as she stood across the street from The Drop.
Cars whizzed past her, some honking as she stood next to the stop sign as they thought she was trying to cross. She had been trying to decide for the past 12 minutes.
Her phone buzzed in her tightly clutched hand for the third time today. Not a blocked number, but still a number she didn't recognize except for when they called her earlier this week. They had left a couple of voicemails but she listened to neither.
It had been a couple hours since she had stormed out of the office building.
No experience. Natalia scoffed.
Her heels clacked against the sidewalk, the sound a metronome to her racing thoughts.
How much experience did you need to be an office clerk?
Eventually the rhythmic clacking had slowed. Her feet were stinging. Surely there were blisters forming around her ankles. Not the shoes' fault. They weren't meant for the miles she stomped across town which landed her here, watching surfers casually file into the bar.
Nat doesn't remember when her body made the decision to arrive here, because it certainly wasn't her brain.
It was a magnet that finally pulled her across the street. A compass was leading to her something not unlike comfort. She had no home to go. The hotel would only greet her with suffocating anxiety.
Her skin itched in anticipation. The feeling, although not comfortable, was welcomed in comparison to what she had been feeling the past month. With each step, adrenaline fueled her and she grasped onto it like a lifeline. Anything other than dread, the ache of loneliness.
Seeing a Cody was the match she needed.
The dive bar was busier than it was a couple days ago, happy hour reaching it's peak. Nat slid in against the bar as a group of rowdy twenty year old's moved away. Deran was flighting about, alone behind the bar and practically throwing beers at customers. Nat watched him for a bit, trying to match him with the small child she used to know. The long blonde hair was still wild. His eyes were more sad, his shoulders heavier. A long sigh left him as he finally passed off the last drink, his eyes doing a double take when he met Nat's.
"I'm not sure if you remem--"
"Hey, you're back--"
Both of them chuckled, Deran's hand going to the back of his neck.
"What can I get you?"
"I was actually hoping to talk with you."
"Oh. Ok, sure," he responded with a hint of confusion.
Nat's phone began to vibrate across the bar top, the same number flashing across the screen. She quickly caught it, sending it to voicemail and making a mental note to block it later. Deran had taken the distraction to serve a couple that approached.
When he appeared again, he was pouring whiskey shots and leaning closer.
"Is it about the job? Because I had to fire my other guy and I could honestly use the help."
"Um, sort of. I have to tell you something first," Nat said, having to lean in to shout over the music and growing crowd. A large group all adorning sunburns burst the doors, laughing and calling out to friends.
"You got a record?"
"No, but--"
The phone buzzed again, making Nat groan aloud.
"Take it. I'm drowning a bit here. We'll talk later."
"Deran, wait-" but he was already on the other side of the bar.
Natalia huffed, the phone still buzzing until she forcefully brought it to her ear.
"What?"
"Hello, may I speak with Natalia Reed, please?"
"Who is this?" Natalia practically growled.
"My name is Morgan Wilson. I apologize for all of the calls, Miss Reed, but my client has been very eager to reach you."
"And who the hell is your client?"
"I represent Janine Cody, but I believe you know her, as most people do, as Smurf."
black coffee, no sugar (ja)
summary: when your son wants a slightly more expensive birthday present, you pull a double to earn the extra cash, but you're stuck working with his dad too.
pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader
word count: 4.8k
warnings: age gap (reader - 30s/jack - late 40s), the reader wears glasses but there are no other descriptions of how the reader looks, exes-ish (there's feelings there somewhere but not spoken about), boy dad!jack, co-parenting, jack being soft for the reader in his own little way, probably incorrect medical jargon because i make people feel better with food for a living - i am not a doctor/nurse, mentions of patient loss and off page death, one mention of a past sexual encounter between the reader and jack, food poisoning (sorry shen), like one joke about jack being older, not sure if that's everything but let me know
a/n: i had an idea and i tried my best to write it....but hey, look, my first abbot fic. i was hooked from the minute he said 'don't worry, you'll get there soon enough,' to mel. i don't like the ending but honestly didn't know how i wanted this to end. do we want more of these two??? feedback is always appreciated
6:28 PM
Heather stretches her arms, fingers wiggling as she unfurls her hands. “I can't wait to get home to my bed,” she says, and the sentiment is shared by the few nurses around you. You, however, had your head resting on your arm, trying your best to beat off the impending fatigue, a patient’s record - Mr Hernandez - up on the screen, waiting to be completed. “What about you?” She looks down, sharing the same tired expression.
“I wish,” you sit up, shoulders rolling back, “Shen's still out with food poisoning.” Bad sushi. You and Jack had laughed about it until your sides had hurt, you bent over, tucked into the warmth of his side, your couch becoming Jack's temporary bed for a quick nap, after swinging by that morning to see Auggie.
“You're pulling a double?” Her voice pulls you away from the warm memory, your body growing quickly cold as the sounds of heart monitors, the distant carnage of the overcrowded waiting room, and the chaos happening in Trauma 1 pounds your ears.
“I need the hours,” you mumble, inputting Mr Hernandez's last check up results. You tuck your fingers under your glasses and rub your eyes. A quick nap in an on-call room would be enough to get you through the night shift. And maybe a cup of coffee, or three. “Auggie’s already been with my mom all day, so she’s gonna take him tonight. It’s all sorted.”
Her arms fold. “And you're sure you want to work with Abbot?”
“You make it sound like we can't play nice.”
Trinity pops up beside Heather, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, making you both jump. “Wait,” she looks down at you, “the nurses were telling the truth about you and Doctor Abbot?”
Princess, Donnie and a young blonde named Anna all dart in different directions, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your hard stare. It was just as good as Jack's. Anna turns to her computer, pretending to read a chart. Princess had ducked behind a curtain, checking in on a patient. And Donnie made a break from the staff room. You shake your head, turning your lips up into a partial smile.
“So?” Trinity was still waiting for an answer. Her smile can only be described as wicked. “What's the story? Messy breakup? Did one of you cheat?”
“Dr Santos!” Heather clears her throat.
“Oh, come on,” Trinity sighs, slapping her hands down on the top. Heather glares hard at her and she turns and walks away, grumbling something under her breath.
“You got that mom stare down perfectly, by the way,” you log off and groan as you unfold from the chair, swearing you could hear at least three different joints cracking as you stretch.
She sighs. “Just missing the important thing.”
“You can have Auggie.”
“He's a good kid, but no thanks,” she shakes her head, turning with you as you take a steady walk through the Pitt, “it's like being around a miniature Abbot but pumped with aquarium facts.” You snort, but she was right. Loose, dark curls. The same eyes, hidden behind red framed glasses. Grumpy in the morning, chaos at night. Two perfect sides of the same coin. “But, seriously, you know he'll try to make you go home, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do,” you throw her a knowing smile and she rolls her eyes, “and it’ll be fun to tell him no.”
7:45 PM
A-U-G-G-I-E. You trace your thumb over each individual bead, the black lettering a little chipped from constantly wearing it. It was an amalgamation of reds and blues; for Spiderman, your five year old had mumbled, when you asked what colours he was going to use to make it.
“Mommy, are you listening?” Auggie's voice pulls you back to reality.
“Of course, bud.” You swap your phone between your hands, pressing it to your left ear. “Grandma took you to the aquarium, yeah?”
“Yep!” He pops the p. “The crabs were my favourite; they had a king crab, a snow crab, and spider crabs…” His words become a jumbled mess as he excitedly lists off each species of crab, probably remembering them all in less than five minutes, making sure he and your mom didn't move on to the next thing until he knew them all.
“The crabs were your favourite? Not the jellyfish?” He'd been bombarding you with jellyfish facts that morning before your mom came to pick him up.
“They were cool but they weren't as cool as the crabs,” Auggie mumbles, voice muffled like he had just put something in his mouth. Probably his thumb. He always chewed on it when he was getting tired. “Grandma got me a new book,” he tells you, “it's all about sharks!”
“Mom?” You sigh, dropping your head into your hand. This kid had everyone wrapped around his little finger. If it wasn't your mom buying him a gift every weekend they spent together, it was Dana sneaking him sweet treats, Robby giving him piggyback rides around the Pitt, or Jack agreeing that he could have a puppy.
“What?” Your mom dismisses you. “I can't say no to this gorgeous face!” Auggie giggles. “It's one of his birthday presents.”
“One?” You ask, arching your eyebrows. “How many are you buying him?”
“As many as the kid wants.”
“Well, there goes my inheritance,” you joke.
Auggie yarns down the phone. “When are you coming home, Mommy?”
A spear of guilt lodges itself beside your heart. There was still time. You could go home, not get yourself involved in any more cases, leave the next twelve hours to the night shift. But Auggie wanted a specific bike for his birthday and you would give anything to see his face light up in six weeks. That would be worth the price tag and the extra hours.
“I'm sorry, bud,” you sigh, already picturing the droop of his mouth. “There's a lot of sick people who need mommy's help tonight, but you and Grandma are gonna have a sleepover. That sounds like fun, right?”
“Are you helping them with Daddy?”
You hum, nodding your head to no one. “I will. Want me to say hi for you?”
“Please!”
“Why don't you go clean up and get ready for bed?” Your mom's voice comes from the other end. “Huh, wait, not so fast, little man. Say goodnight to Mommy.”
“Goodnight, Mommy!” Auggie shouts, and you smile to yourself, listening to his footsteps hurrying away from the phone.
“I'm sorry about this,” you mumble, shoulders sagging as you slump back against the wall.
“Don't apologise for giving me more time with my grandbaby, but you know, sweetie, August will be fine with any red bike.”
“I know, but remember the birthday present you got me when I was his age?”
“Yeah, I remember.” It was a beautifully handcrafted, Victorian style dollhouse, with powered blue walls, white accents and three floors. You were obsessed with it. That was until your baby cousin got jealous one day and broke two of the windows. “Your father worked more hours than he should've to save up for it, but it was worth it seeing that look on your face.”
“I want that with Auggie, Mom.”
“So why not ask Jack-”
“No, Mom,” you cut her off, nudging your glasses back up your nose, “I’m not asking Jack for money.”
“You're stubborn, just like your father,” she laughs, and you could only agree.
Saying goodbye, you pocket your phone, fix your scrubs, and step out of the stairwell and back into the Pitt. It was no calmer than you had left it, the patient in 19 was still screaming, despite already being given something to help with the pain, an elderly man waiting on a bed upstairs had been moved into the hallway, and Jack's intense stare met you from the opposite side of the room, like a hawk watching its prey. It would've made anyone else crumble, but not you. You stare back with the same intensity and wait for him to make the first move.
“What are you still doing here?”
“Working,” you mumble, looking up to check the board. Mr Singh in 13 could be discharged and told to come back in the morning if the pain in his stomach persisted, freeing up a bed. “The same as you.”
“But I haven't already just done a twelve hour shift,” Jack fires back, attempting to take the pad from you. You jerk your arm, giving him the same look you would give Auggie when he refuses to eat his greens. He sighs and slips his hand into his left front pocket. “What are you doing?”
“Discharing Mr Singh.”
9:57 PM
You rap your knuckles softly on the door, your runaway teen admitted this afternoon looking up from her spot on the gurney. One of the nurses had managed to get her to change into some clean clothes, but a quick search of her pockets came up with nothing. You had her first name, Cassie, but no idea where she had come from, or how long she had been unhoused. Longer than you could probably imagine.
“How are you doing, kid?” You slip your hands into your pockets, pulling out a granola bar. It wasn't much but hopefully an incentive to get her to trust. “Hungry?”
She lowers her eyes.
“It's not much, I know, but if you think you can stomach some hospital food, I can get you a sandwich.”
She tucks a messy strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don't like tuna,” she whispers, any quieter and you would've missed.
“Got it.” You smile. “No tuna.”
“What's her story?” Jack asks, waiting to catch you as you leave. He was leant up against the nurses’ station, arms folded, a to-go coffee cup sitting on the counter.
“You're like a bad smell.” His lips twitch, leaning into you as you saddle up next to him. His cologne was warm and earthy, like a hug you never knew you needed until it happened. “Cassie, fourteen, possibly older, came in this afternoon after she was found unconscious on a park bench.”
“Social services?”
“She wouldn't say much to Kiara.”
“What about missing persons?” You shake your head. “What are you thinking?”
“Foster kid, maybe,” you glance up out of the corner of your eyes. He was already looking at you, eyes intense but with a softness around the edges. “We've had a few cases come in before of kids running away from group homes, found sleeping rough in parks and the usual spots for the unhoused. All similar to Cassie.”
You shrug and nudge your glasses back up your nose. Earning Cassie's trust was more important to you. And these were the type of cases you couldn't jump to conclusions with. Doing so might just be the difference between Cassie going home to a bed and hot meals, and spending another night on the street.
“Keep her overnight and contact someone in the morning to see if they can identify her?” Jack suggests and you agree, nodding your head, before letting it fall against his shoulder. The left side of his mouth hitches and he reaches for the cup. “Here.”
“Black, no sugar?” You tiredly mumble.
“Always.” You take a sip and wince. Jack snorts. “It's not that bad.”
“This,” you gesture to the cup, “is disgusting.”
You take another sip. “And yet you're still drinking it.”
"It's this or crash in the break room.”
Jack unfolds his arms, the backs of his fingers brushing against your side, gooseflesh prickling your arms. “You could just go home.”
“Mateo’s pulling a double. You're not on his ass about it,” you grumble, drinking more coffee.
He leans down, his left temple pressing into your hair, fingers stretching to softly grasp at your scrubs. “Can I let you in on a secret? I don't care about Mateo the same way I care about you.” You turn your head deeper into his shoulder but Jack feels the smile you're trying to hide. His expression stays neutral, successfully hiding his own, but his chest is alive with a warm gooey goodness. “At least tell me you took a proper break?”
“I tried.”
You lift your head, absentmindedly using his shoulder to nudge your glasses up as you pull away. That had probably been enough to give the nurses something new to gossip about in the break room. You'd probably hear about it from Dana or Perlah when you return on Tuesday, followed by Heather pulling you to the side, asking you if there had suddenly been a change in yours and Jack's ‘relationship.’ Which was a no.
“Go take a twenty minute break.”
“Not a chance,” you step away from the nurses' station, his to-go cup still clutched in your hand, “I have to get Cassie some sandwiches, Mr Johnson's blood work is back, and…” You take a sip of his coffee. “...I need to add about five packets of sugar to this.”
“Do not tarnish my coffee with sugar!” Jack snorts as you stick your fingers in your ears, pretending not to hear him. At least now he knew who taught it to Auggie.
00:39 AM
“How are we doing, Mrs Simmons?”
“Gloria, please,” Mrs Simmons insists, a friendly smile beckoning you forward into an atmosphere of warmth. “I keep telling this one the same,” she points to Ellis, “but she won't listen.”
Ellis looks over her shoulder, Mrs Simmons's chart becoming a secondary focus. “Thought I saw you whizzing about earlier.” She offers you her friendliest smile, which isn't much, but you were one of the few to ever see it. “Pulling a double?”
“Need the money,” you simply tell her, shrugging your shoulders. “Auggie's got expensive taste.”
“Birthday present?” You nod. “Auggie's his kid too, remember? Get him to pay for some of it.”
“That's the thing, he would,” you glance at Mrs Simmons, who'd be flicking her eyes between you and Ellis, listening to every word, “but let's talk about this later.” Ellis nods and turns her attention back to the patient's record. “Gloria?”
“I'm okay,” she answers, folding her hands in front of herself. “I'd better in my own bed though. Can't I go home and come back later?”
“Unfortunately not, Mrs Simmons,” Ellis says looking up for a beat.
“How long on a bed being available upstairs?” Ellis shrugs.
They had the space upstairs for more beds. It wasn't a secret. There was an empty floor, ready to be filled with beds and nurses. But refusing to hire the staff meant more patients were waiting hours, if not days, for a space to open up. The lives of patients were being gambled with because those in charge refused to put the money where it was needed, and nothing made you more angry.
You force it down, the bubbles of frustration popping as you take a breath, calming yourself. Mrs Simmons didn't need to hear a lecture about the ways the system was failing those in need.
“Are you sure there's no one we can call?” You ask for the second time that night. “A husband? Children? Even just a friend?”
“I'm old, sweetie, most of my friends are either dead or close to being dead.” You awkwardly laugh, her bluntness surprising you. “My husband too.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” you offer comfort and she accepts it with a kind smile. “What about children?”
“Just my son,” she quickly shakes her head, “but he lives in Italy now. It's just me, dear.”
You meet Ellis’s gaze. “What about leaving him a voicemail?” She asks, mirroring your stance on the opposite side of Gloria. “I'm sure your son would want to know you're in the hospital.” Gloria nods, unhappy to be defeated. “Good.”
“So, who's the dreamboat?” Gloria points and you follow her finger until it stops at Jack and Mateo. “Not the pretty one, the one on the left.”
“Dr Abbot,” you answer, ignoring Ellis and her smirk.
“I saw you two earlier.”
Ellis's eyebrows meet her hairline. “Oh?”
You look down at your pad, skimming your eyes over Gloria's notes. “Still keeping an eye on everyone?”
She shrugs. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Nurse?” Ellis asks.
“Thirty five years,” she says with pride, eyes brightening. “Looked pretty cozy, you and Doctor Dreamboat. What's the story?”
“No story-”
Ellis barks a sharp laugh. “Oh, there's a story there, alright,” she cuts in, the edges of her lips curving upwards. “Or was Auggie just an immaculate conception?”
“Either way, it's in the past,” you say tightly, and brush a hand down the front of your scrubs. “Don't you have other patients to see, Dr Ellis?” You didn't make it a habit to air out your dirty laundry to all your patients, and Ellis might just do so if you let her stay much longer. “I think there's a case of food poisoning with your name on it.”
“Who is it? Shen?” She teases, making her exit, giving Gloria a sharp nod.
“Didn't look like it was in the past to me, sweetie,” Gloria continues, fixing her sheets. Eyes float to ‘Doctor Dreamboat,’ lingering for a beat, just long enough so he wouldn't feel you staring. Gloria watches you; her gaze not hard like Jack's, but soft with curiosity. “Have you told him how you feel?”
You suppress the laugh that bites at your throat, a flash of warmth hitting your cheeks, the memory feeling hot and fresh for something that was seven years ago. Heather's birthday, too many beers, and a recently broken heart had led you to a quick and awkward fumble in the back of Jack's truck. Your dress hadn't even been hitched up your waist when you had mumbled something about wanting to do this for a long time. Jack's agreement had been the thing that took it all from fantasy to reality.
“It's complicated,” you settle on, giving your patient a slight frown.
“That's love.”
3:55 AM
“You look different.” Bridget stirs sugar into her coffee, the nurse trying to work out for the last five minutes what was so different about you tonight. She leans back against the counter, narrowing her eyes and studying you. “Not pregnant again, are we?”
“I'm not sure immaculate conception is a real thing,” you nearly choke on your water, screwing the cap tight on your bottle. If you were lacking one thing in your life, it was definitely a sex life.
“She's wearing her glasses,” Jack mumbles, briefly looking up from the medical journal in front of him, occupying the space across from you at the table.
Bridget accepts his answer with no problem, sipping slowly on the hot coffee. It needed more sugar, and she grabbed another sugar packet, ripping it open.
“Coffee, anyone?” She offers to both of you. “Fresh pot.”
Jack taps the back of his finger against his cup, not the same one you walked off with earlier. “I'm good.”
“No, thanks,” you scrunch your nose, trying not to look too disgusted.
Jack closes the journal, marking the page with his thumb. “Why are you wearing your glasses?” He asks, curiosity getting the better of him. He knew you didn't need to have a reason to wear them. “Lose your contacts again? You didn’t fall asleep in them, did you?”
“I did that one time.” You roll your eyes. “And no, I didn't lose them. I’m wearing them for Auggie.”
“Why?” Jack straightens up. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing, not really.” You shake your head, trying to defuse the alarms ringing so clearly on his face. A sigh tumbles off your lips. “It's just the other day, he said he didn't want to wear his glasses anymore because they make him look stupid.”
He frowns. “He said that?”
“I think one of the other kids might have said it.”
“Whatever happened to kids just being nice?”
“Most kids are,” Bridget answers, taking the seat next to you, happy to rest her feet, even if it was just for a few seconds. You nod, agreeing with her. “But some just don't know how to play nice.”
“Doesn't explain why you're wearing yours.” Jack flicks his eyes away from Bridget, back to you.
“I'm thinking maybe if he sees me wearing mine, he won't feel as embarrassed to wear his,” you explain, unscrewing your water bottle. You take a sip, shrugging your shoulders. “It's not my most creative plan, but he didn't make a fuss when I asked him to put his glasses on this morning.”
Bridget touches your wrist. “It's a sweet plan, hun.”
“D’you think I should start wearing mine more around him?”
“You've already been mistaken for his grandpa once before,” you tease, giving his foot a soft tap under the table. “Might just happen a few more times if you go around in those old man frames.”
Jack grins, tapping your foot back.
“Y/L/N?” Mateo pokes his head around the break room door. You glance at him, eyebrows arching, not liking the droop of his mouth and the panic in his eyes. “It's your patient in 18. Mrs Simmons.”
4:48 AM
Jack finds you in your usual hiding spot, bottom of the stairwell, obscured by a potted plant, head in your hands, body hunched over to make yourself look as small as possible. It works. People pass by without acknowledging you. Or maybe they do, but decide not to. He approaches quietly, knees cracking as he lowers himself down to join you, a groan rolling easily off his mouth.
“It-”
“Don't,” you mumble, voice muffled and broken, “I don't want one of your motivational speeches right now.”
Jack snaps his jaw shut, lips pursed together tightly. He tips his head back, meeting the wall behind, and looks up at the ceiling.
He remembers the first time he found you here, two months into your residency, the first glimpse of what was really behind that stubborn exterior. Multiple deaths from a vehicle pile up would do that to you. There was no motivational speech that night. He just sat and waited with you until you were ready to go back to work.
A few months later, you would ask him why he did that, and he would just shrug and mumble something about it feeling right in the moment.
It's in this spot, that he found out you were pregnant. And for all of thirty seconds, his world came crumbling down.
He hadn't thought about a life that involved children. Not ever, not really. Was there even a justifiable reason to bring a kid into a word that couldn't get its shit together? His thirties mostly consisted of friends with kids asking when it was going to be his turn. It came down to him making the decision that if it didn't happen before he was forty, then it just wasn't meant to be. And then you stormed into the Pitt, all stubborn, not backing down from a challenge, matching his every step.
A drunken decision became his whole world and he wouldn't take it back.
“Can I talk yet?”
“No,” you gruff out, but know it won't be enough to stop him. He'll say whatever speech he has stored up and you would just have to listen.
“It wasn't your fault,” he says, voice soft, trying to comfort you. He hesitates, but reaches out, settling his hand on the back of your neck. “Come here,” is all he mumbles, cupping your head as you fall against his side. His thumb strokes slowly, making patterns in your hair. “It wasn't your fault,” he repeats, emphasizing each word.
Your fingers play with your scrubs, hands dropping from your face and into your lap. Jack tucks you beneath his chin, and you welcome his warmth and comfort in one big breath.
Your bottom lip wobbles. “It was.”
“No, it wasn't.” He trails his hand down your back and drapes his arm around your middle, holding you tighter. “You followed every procedure, this was just one of those things that snuck up on us.”
“It shouldn't have,” you disagree, always the hardest on yourself. “I should've caught it before it was too late. I'm better than that.”
“Look at me.” You do, chin turned upwards, sniffling as you fight to keep the tears away. “We're human, but we're not perfect, okay?” He dips his head, looking at you directly. “We try things. We make mistakes. We fall, we get hurt, but we always rise up again. This one thing doesn't make you a bad doctor. How many mistakes have you made with Auggie? Doesn't make you a bad mom doesn't it now?” His thumb brushes away the first tear, calloused pad rough against your cheek. “You're a damn good doctor. I'd tell you if I thought otherwise.”
A small smile plays on your lips. If Jack blinked he would miss it. “You can't just let me feel defeated once, can you?” You huff, feigning your annoyance.
He takes his arm from around you, letting you sit up. “I can't, I like your smile too much to see you upset.” You glance at him wide-eyed and he just chuckles. Catching you off guard with subtle and not-so-subtle admissions was always fun for him.
“I'm not the one who needs to smile more,” you say, pushing your hands into the floor and standing up. Jack takes your hand as you offer it to him, groaning as he slowly gets up. “People might think you're less of a grump.”
He shakes his head. “I save my smiles for my two favourite people.”
You tilt your head. “Auggie and the waitress at Frankie’s?” Frankie’s was a diner still stuck in the seventies and the only place that made pancakes good enough for your son to eat. Jack did take offence to that.
“Okay, three people.” He points to you and counts you off on his opposite hand, “Auggie and Bertha,” two more fingers go up.
“Bertha’s been happily married for forty three years.”
“What Bertha and I have goes beyond marriage.”
You snort. “She only has a soft spot for you because you saved her husband from choking on bacon that one time.”
“And now I get my coffee for free.” He reaches out to fix your glasses. “You good?”
You shrug, a crooked smile twisting your mouth. “Is that twenty minute break still on offer?”
“Go,” he nods. “I'll find you if we need you.”
7:28 AM
Jack waits for you, his army rucksack slung over his left shoulder, mouth tight, forming a smile as you exited the hospital. “Everything good?”
“All good,” you mumble, nodding. “Just needed to give something to Dana.”
He tips his head, fishing his keys from his cargo pocket. “Something important?”
“Depends on your definition of important. I wrote a letter to Mrs Simmons's son.”
“Taking a leaf out of my own book, huh?” Warmth blooms behind his ribs. “Said everything you needed to say?”
Just about. Letters to the patient's loved ones was more Jack's thing, so you were unsure at first what you wanted to say, but once you started, it was hard to stop. The general stuff was in there, how sorry you were for his loss and how you had done everything possible in your power to keep her alive. But you also included how she was a beautiful and kind woman, someone who he could be proud of.
“I think so,” you say, giving a glance back at the double doors. The next forty eight hours would be bliss compared to the last twenty four you just had. “I picked up the extra hours to pay for Auggie's birthday present,” you turn back to him.
“Huh?”
“Last night, you asked me what I was still doing here, and, well, that's why.” You fix the strap looped over your shoulder, the front dotted with badges with various aquatic animals. It was like carrying a piece of Auggie with you to work. “It's a bike that's stupidly expensive but it's the only thing he's asked me for this year and I really want him to have it.”
His lips twitch. “The red one, with the white stripes on it?”
“Kinda matches his glasses?”
He hugs his arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, I already have it in my garage.” You gasp and give his side a soft punch. “Hey!” He groans, clutching your shoulder tighter, pulling you against him. “I didn't know he had asked you for it too.”
“I'm gonna kill you Jack Abbot,” you grumble, spinning out of his arm.
He chuckles, lips perked at the corners. “No, you're not. Who else is gonna take you to breakfast?”
You playfully roll your eyes. “You only want to go Frankie’s so you can see Bertha, I have nothing to do with.”
He swings the loop of his key chain around his finger. “Yeah, you're right.”
tagging: @livinginastory
Wait 🥹 I need them to be happy and in love lol
