✰ Time of you life (Dr. Robby)
✰ Hurricane (Dr. Robby)
✰ You own a tux? (Dr. Robby) - sequel to Hurricane
Formula 1
Current grid
✰ Fernando Alonso - FA14
✰ Oscar Piastri - OP81
✰ Lando Norris - LN4
✰ Liam Lawson - LL30
✰ Charles Leclerc - CL16
✰ Carlos Sainz - CS55
✰ Lewis Hamilton - LH44
✰ Max Verstappen- MV1
✰ Kimi Antonelli - KA12
Retired drivers
✰ Jenson Button - JB22
✰ Mark Webber - MW2
Wattpad: valentinaf83 - Ao3: valeelavvale
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Hold my hand masterlist - Fernando Alonso Masterlist - F1 Masterlist
featuring: Fernando Alonso x ofc! Martina De Marchi
summary: Sometimes, when everything starts to fall apart, the only thing that matters is having someone close enough to stay, close enough to hold your hand.
genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
warnings: This story contains themes of domestic abuse (both verbal and physical), toxic relationships, and implied sexual violence.
It also includes emotionally heavy content and hospital settings that may be distressing to some readers.
author's note (please read!!!!!): A small note: this chapter, and the last and next few ones, were difficult to write because of the topics they deal with. Obviously I don’t truly know how someone like Martina, the protagonist, might feel in a situation of abuse like this one; everything I wrote comes purely from imagination and is not meant to diminish, stereotype, or trivialize anything. It’s simply a fictional story, with fictional characters and situations, and it is absolutely not intended to offend or hurt anyone.
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I kept the right ones out
And let the wrong ones in
Had an angel of mercy
To see me through all my sins
There were times in my life
When I was goin' insane
Tryin' to walk through the pain
And when I lost my grip
And I hit the floor
Yeah, I thought I could leave
But couldn't get out the door
I was so sick and tired
Of livin' a lie
I was wishin' that I would die
When Martina opened her eyes, it took her a moment to fully realize where she was, the soft bed, the tidy room... Spritz curled up at her feet, sleeping peacefully.
She looked around, Fernando's guest room was large and comfortable and immediately gave her a sense of peace... It was the third morning she had woken up there, and the night before she had forgotten to pull down the shutters again and the light was streaming in through the large window, she stretched slightly and got up, slowly.
She went into the bathroom and spent a moment looking at herself in the mirror, the bruise was dark but her eye was a little less swollen, the mark where he had grabbed her was still visible on her neck, she sighed but immediately realized something: she no longer felt that weight in her chest that she had been carrying around for months.
She washed her face and changed into a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt, she didn't have to hide the bruises and injuries, not with him, there was no need to cover herself up.
The previous mornings she had stayed in bed, perhaps not completely comfortable yet, perhaps a little intimidated by being there, she had listened to the noises, heard Ornella arrive and begin preparing breakfast, but that morning she had woken up calmer, more peaceful and she wanted to do something different.
It was early when she slipped into the kitchen and the house was silent, she wanted to make breakfast, she wanted to do something nice, a small thank you for everything he had done.
The fridge was full and so was the pantry, Ornella bought everything imaginable and so Martina calmly started making a cake, taking out fruit, squeezing oranges... She felt calm, she felt free, and she realized she was smiling.
More than an hour later she heard some noise and didn't even have time to turn around before she saw Fernando walk into the kitchen, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and nothing else, hair impossibly messy, one hand running through it and a yawn he hadn't managed to suppress.
The driver took a second to realize that no, he wasn't alone as usual, even though Martina had been there for a few days now, he wasn't used to sharing his house with someone.
"Hey, good morning," he smiled, still half asleep.
"Good morning," she replied, forcing herself to look away from that sight, was it really possible that it was her, actually her, waking up in the same house as that incredible man who seemed to belong more on the cover of a magazine than in a normal apartment?
It was.
Martina found herself staring at him again, his shoulders, his sculpted abs, the sweatpants hanging far too low, that face she had by now learned to... love?
"Did you sleep?" he asked and she nodded.
Fernando looked around.
"Wow... You really didn't have to... I mean, Ornella will be here in half an hour..."
"I wanted to," she admitted. "Sorry about the mess, I'll clean everything up afterwards," she added immediately.
"Or maybe not," he replied with a smile. "I'll... I'll go put on a shirt and come back," he said before disappearing and returning a few moments later — unfortunately — wearing a shirt.
They sat down at the table in a comfortable silence and Fernando immediately helped himself to a huge slice of cake.
"You know, I could get used to taking advantage of your breakfasts. Your cakes especially," the man joked and she smiled.
"Cooking relaxes me a lot and besides, your pantry is absurdly well stocked," she replied, getting up to get the coffee. "I'm happy to do it, really, tomorrow I'll make you a different one," she continued, taking the cups.
"Listen... I... I have to leave tomorrow for... Valencia, for the race..." he commented and Martina immediately turned around.
"You're leaving?" she asked, completely caught off guard.
She didn't want to be alone, in those three days she had never been alone, there had always been him, or at worst Dany or Roberto whenever Fernando had needed to go out.
Martina took a deep breath and lowered her gaze, the truth was that being alone terrified her.
"Okay..." she said quietly, hearing Fernando's chair scrape against the floor.
"Hey Marty..." the man said, approaching slowly, with that calmness he had started to have around her all the time, no sudden movements, no approaching too quickly, never making gestures that could make her uncomfortable. "...it would be a disaster if I decided to skip it..." Fernando continued, stopping in front of her. "...you don't want to stay alone?" he asked.
"It scares me," she admitted, lifting her face to look at the driver, who was watching her with that gentle expression he had always had for her.
Martina felt confused every time she was around him, a beautiful kind of confusion that pulled her away from fear, from the memory of everything she had escaped from, she could have stood there staring at his face for hours...
"But don't worry, maybe I'll stay with Daniela," she added immediately, she didn't want to create problems in his life, she was already convinced she was a burden.
"Or you could come with me," he replied naturally, with that tone of voice that made her believe anything was possible.
"To Spain? To the race?" she asked in surprise and Fernando nodded.
"If you feel up to it," he clarified immediately. "But I'd like that," he added, reaching out to take her hand.
"Sarei un intralcio Fer..." she said.
"No, you wouldn't," he replied firmly. "You wouldn't have to stay in the middle of the crowds, you'd follow everything at your own pace, from the sidelines if you want to..."
Martina remained silent.
“Hasn't your father ever taken you into the paddock?” Fernando asked after a moment.
“Many years ago, then with the hospital shifts it became difficult... Leo used to go with him,” she replied.
“Do you really want me to come?” she asked, looking at him again.
“Yes, Marty, I really do... It's my Grand Prix, my Spain, it would be nice to have you there with me...” he replied with a smile.
“My father will be there too...” she pointed out.
“Yes, and if you want you'll talk to him, if you want we'll do it together and if not... we won't,” Fernando replied, raising a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I don't want you to feel like you have to do it, okay? I know it's a difficult situation...”
“...it would be nice though,” the girl admitted, resting her cheek against Fernando's still raised hand. “And... I'd like to come with you...”
The driver smiled.
“Then it's settled, I'll have a room booked for you... And before you say anything: you're not a burden,” he added gently.
Martina looked at him, those three days had been a bubble, everything had been strange, surreal, as though the world outside that house didn't exist, as though Leonardo had disappeared and would never come back.
She knew it wasn't true, she knew she had reality waiting for her, she knew she would have to report him, but she still didn't have the strength for it, she wanted to stay inside that bubble, with Fernando, just a little longer.
She wanted to curl up beside him on the couch, hear him speaking Spanish on the phone, watch him fiddle with the coffee machine, hear him grumble at Spritz while the cat annoyed him.
She wanted him beside her, always, because with him beside her she felt like things could get better.
With him beside her, she felt safe.
Fernando had been... perfect.
He had respected her silence, her space, but he had never made her feel like a guest or out of place, he had talked to her and listened whenever she wanted to talk, he had made her laugh in moments when Martina had thought it would be impossible, he had touched her without ever taking space that wasn't his, he had smiled at her, hugged her when she sought him out, held her close, told her she was safe dozens of times, and she had believed him, every single time.
Martina raised a hand and brushed his cheek, from the very first moment she had seen him she had thought he was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes you forget how to speak, the kind that makes you dream impossible things.
“You look good this morning, you know that?” Fernando said quietly.
“I'm okay because you're here,” she answered without even thinking.
The driver took a small step forward, instinctive and yet controlled, moving a little closer to her.
“You're okay because you're Marty again, the Marty I like,” Fernando pointed out with a smile, never taking his eyes off her and she answered with a quiet laugh.
“You’re crazy...” the girl said, shaking her head.
“Why?” he asked, curious.
“Because... me? Really?” Martina replied, amused and a little incredulous.
“Yes, you,” he answered with a calmness and certainty that were almost studied, he wanted her to understand that he wasn't joking, that he meant every word.
He brushed her cheek gently, thinking that he didn't really know how to behave around her, what was okay and what was too much, and so he had adopted the strategy of... talking.
Of asking her what made her feel good, what made her uncomfortable, because that way he knew he would never do something she didn't want.
“And I want to kiss you,” the man added, knowing that maybe he was pushing a little too far.
Martina looked at him, they were only a few words but they mattered, they were full, they were something that made her feel special.
“Me too,” she admitted at last in a whisper, earning a smile that sent shivers all the way down her spine.
Fernando leaned in slightly, slowly, respectfully, taking her face in one hand and brushing his lips against hers, softly at first, without rushing, and then moving a little closer.
And Martina kissed him back.
Because even if maybe it was too soon, even if maybe she still carried too much with her, that kiss was all she wanted and, finally, she could do what she wanted, without being afraid.
It was a long kiss, a very long kiss, and when they finally pulled apart she was smiling.
“So, are you coming to Spain with me then, doc?” he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
“Yes...” she smiled.
It felt like everything that was happening couldn't possibly be her life, and yet it was her standing there, in the arms of a man who treated her with respect, with kindness, who spoke to her as though she truly mattered.
And she did.
-
Valencia was overwhelming.
Martina had arrived quietly, without drawing attention to herself, staying behind with Fernando's team and he had left her in the background, exactly as she wanted.
He knew that if he gave her too much attention, even just a caress or a glance, someone would probably notice and so, during the flight, he had already told her that he would leave her alone and Martina had understood and, if anything, she had been grateful for it.
She had decided to wander around the paddock wearing dark sunglasses and a cap pulled low over her head to hide the bruises that were still faintly visible.
She was one person among thousands, and the feeling was wonderful, she could get lost, observe, listen.
She had spent a long time standing still watching the drivers' interviews, watching Fernando joke with journalists in Spanish, immersed in a world she had never really seen him in before but that was beautiful.
Then came the free practice sessions and the thrill of watching him drive, perfect just as she had seen him so many times on television; she had stayed away from the Ferrari garage, she didn't want to see her father, not yet, even though she knew she would have to face him sooner or later.
But the truth was that she was afraid to talk to him.
She didn't know whether he knew she had left home, or whether he was completely unaware of everything, but she was afraid, afraid that he would tell her she had made a mistake, afraid of not being understood.
No, she wasn't afraid of convincing herself to go back to Leonardo, now that she was out of it that thought felt distant from her, but she had plenty of other thoughts, thoughts that scared her.
It was Saturday evening and she had been back at the hotel for a while, it was hot, crowded, she had watched qualifying and then slipped away from that media circus. She was surprised when she heard a knock on the door, it was almost dinner time and she knew for a fact that Fernando had commitments with the team that evening.
She opened the door and he was there, white t-shirt, hair still damp from the shower and that smile, the one she adored.
“Hey doc,” he said.
“Hey champion,” she smiled, letting him in. “I thought you'd already be at dinner,” she continued, closing the door behind him.
“I'm here for dinner...” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“No Fer, thanks, but I'm not coming to dinner with the team...” Martina started to say.
“...I know, I'm here to have dinner with you,” he interrupted. “We'll order room service and eat here, what do you think?”
She looked at him in surprise.
“Don't worry, okay? Go, you should go out, I'm perfectly fine...”
“...I want to spend time with you, Marty,” he interrupted again, speaking with a simplicity she still wasn't used to, while stepping closer and placing a hand on her waist. “If you'd like that...” he added.
“Of course I'd like that,” she answered immediately, making him smile.
Fernando leaned in slightly and kissed her, one of those kisses Martina was becoming addicted to, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer.
She liked it, she liked being in his arms, she liked having him so close, but in that moment she became aware of where they were, alone, and she realized that maybe he wasn't there only for dinner.
“Fernando...” she said, pulling back slightly, not really knowing what to say, she didn't want to send him away, she didn't want to push him away but, at that moment, she didn't want what she thought he probably wanted either.
“Everything okay...?” he asked, pulling back a little, caught off guard.
Martina took a long breath, she knew she was nervous, she felt uncomfortable and she was afraid of how he would react, would he get angry? Would he leave? Would he push her away?
“I...” the girl started. “...I... don't... Fer, I'm sorry, really...” she continued, unable to hide her agitation.
“...Marty, relax...” he said, stroking her arm.
“It's just that we're here, we're alone and I know that...” she continued, looking at him, her eyes were shining and her voice was trembling.
“Marty, listen...” he interrupted, taking her face in his hands. “...I'm here to have dinner with you and that's it, okay? Sweetheart, hey... You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, that's not why I'm here, okay? I'm not here for sex...” he told her clearly, looking straight into her eyes.
“I'm sorry... But I don't...”
“...you don't owe me any explanation, if you don't want to, you don't want to. That's enough,” he interrupted again, speaking very seriously.
She stayed silent.
“You don't want...”
“Yes, I do... Because I like you like crazy and I do want it, maybe ever since the day I saw you in that purple dress,” Fernando replied, choosing honesty. “But right now what you want matters a lot more, Marty, and if you want to wait, and I think that's the right thing, then we won't do anything, nothing you don't want.”
“I just need a little... time...” she said quietly.
“I know, I understand,” the driver replied with a smile, brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. “If you want to be alone, that's okay too, I'll leave and I'll see you tomorrow morning...”
“No...” she said immediately.
“Stay...” she added before taking a step forward and letting him hold her. “I want you to stay.”
“Then I'll stay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair.
“Sorry...” she whispered.
“No,” Fernando answered immediately, pulling back enough to look at her. “No, you don't have to apologize, no... Marty, listen, you shouldn't make love to someone because you feel like you have to. You should do it because you want to and if you don't want to, there's nothing to apologize for. I want to be honest with you, okay? I'm not going to tell you I don't want you,” he smiled. “But you are so much more than that, okay? And that's why we'll wait, however long it takes.”
Those were words she wasn't used to hearing, words that made her feel good and hurt at the same time when she thought about all the times she had been forced to apologize instead, all the times she had done what somebody else wanted instead of what she wanted.
“And most importantly... you're not obligated to be with me because I helped you get away from him, you understand that, right? You could walk away right now and...”
“...I've fallen in love with you,” the girl interrupted him.
Fernando smiled.
“Give yourself time, okay? To figure out whether you really are or whether it's only because...”
“It's not because you got me away from him... It's because when I'm with you... sometimes I even forget how to talk...” Martina laughed.
The driver burst out laughing.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, amused.
“Especially when you show up half naked in the kitchen,” she replied in a lighter tone, making him laugh again while he pulled her into another hug.
“Luckily you're always fairly dressed or things would be difficult for me...” he added jokingly.
“Because when we make love...” he said then, speaking quietly into her ear, “...you'll really understand just how much I like you, doc...” he added before pressing a kiss into her hair.
Martina stayed there, those words echoing in her ears, sending shivers all the way down her spine, making her think that with him everything would be different.
Everything.
You have to learn to crawl
Before you learn to walk
But I just couldn't listen
To all that righteous talk, oh yeah
Well, I was out on the street
Just tryin' to survive
Scratchin' to stay
Alive
It's amazing
With the blink of an eye
You finally see the light
It's amazing
When the moment arrives
That you know you'll be alright
Amazing - Aerosmith
Pairing -> trans!Fernando Alonso x trans!reader (both ftm btw)
wordcount -> 2005
Tw -> mentions of dysphoria, transphobia, the name Daniel (for some of us)
A/N: Hihi, it's been a while but I decided to write a t4t oneshot and since it's pridemonth (happy pridemonth to those who celebrate) I decided to upload!!
It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, three weeks after the start of your second year at university and everything has been going well for now. The start of this year has been so much easier than the last so far since you don’t have to adjust to a new living situation nor a completely different curriculum and way of attending classes.
Class had ended at midday which means you got home just before half past twelve since the apartment where you live is a 20 minute walk from campus. You’d made yourself a sandwich before going straight into studying, needing to be at least a bit productive before the weekend actually starts.
The living room is quiet as you study, you look up from your laptop with a smile on your face as you look around the place. It’s a comfortable living room, with a balcony just outside the glass door, overlooking the street you live in. The quiet, however, doesn’t last any longer since your roommate, who’s been your best friend for 6, almost 7 years, steps into their shared apartment.
“¡Hola, mi amigo!” Fernando chirps with a happy singsong voice as he drops his bag by the door.
The sound of Fernando shuffling through the apartment is quiet and comfortable. “Hi, Fernando.” You reply the moment the couch dips next to you.
Fernando closes your laptop and cuddles up to you for your weekly cuddles and TV time together.
After half an hour of watching TV, on which FRIENDS is playing, Fernando speaks up. “My mates are coming over later.” You hear him say with that soft murmur that makes you feel things in your chest that you shouldn’t be feeling.
“For the football?” You ask since you know the team Fernando and his friends support is playing later today. You don’t mind Fernando’s friends, even if you have heard them, especially Daniel, make comments which weren’t very kind.
A soft rustling of fabric is heard as Fernando nods his head in confirmation to your question. You feel the warm weight of Fernando’s arm settling around your waist, his fingers fidgeting with your shirt as you trace patterns on his arm like you’d been doing for years.
–
Soon enough, evening rolls around which means Fernando’s friends could be coming over any moment now. The football match only starts in half an hour. You’d only just finished dinner, and still busy cleaning up the kitchen together, when the doorbell rings. Fernando leaves you in the kitchen, going to open the door for his friends.
Once you finish with the dishes you decide to head to your room, not wanting to bother the guys watching the football match. You hear the lively chatter between Fernando and his friends, though the sound is muffled through the thin walls of the apartment. You put on your headphones and sit down at your desk, deciding to work a little on one of the projects for your English Literature course.
–
A little later in the evening you head out of your room, entering the kitchen to grab a snack and a drink. You catch a few words of the ongoing conversation. As you peek your head into the living room to get a look at the score, Fernando’s team is currently winning, one of the guys makes quite a nasty comment about trans people and how they don’t belong in sports. Fernando’s eyes lock on you, your eyes lock on his. He’s not out to his friends, though he shut down after the comment and no one seems to notice.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” One of Fernando’s mates speaks up, clearly targeted at you.
You open your mouth to answer, though you get cut off before you can speak. “Leave the man alone, Daniel.”
“Oh come on, Fernando.” Daniel’s eyes roam over you in an invading way, seemingly picking you apart. “That’s no fucking man.”
Your eyes drop to the floor and before you know it you’re back in your room, trying to calm your heavy panicked breaths and your racing heart. The noise canceling headphones prevent you from hearing Fernando’s defence of you, how he lashes out at Daniel and kicks him out of the apartment, the other remaining friends completely supporting Fernando, agreeing that what Daniel said was absolutely wrong.
The knock on your door goes unnoticed since the headphones really cancel all noise. You’ve buried your face in your pillow and you've curled up a little on your bed. What you don’t expect is a warm body to press against your back.
“Hey…” A soft whisper as your headphones get taken off by him. You know it’s easier for him, he’s had top surgery and all while you haven’t even started with hormone replacement therapy.
You push Fernando back, not happy at all. “Why do you even have friends like that? I don’t get you, mate.” You say with a very agitated tone.
Fernando blinks in confusion at the loss of contact. “I- look, I kicked him out. We won’t be seeing that prick anytime soon.” You hear him state, his hand finding your shoulder. “Lucas kicked him from the groupchat..”
“Go back to watching your stupid game.” your voice dipping a bit lower in frustration, not wanting Fernando’s company right now.
–
The sound of the front door closing echoes through the apartment, you’re still in bed, trying to fall asleep. You hear noises of someone cleaning the livingroom, Fernando’s footsteps sounding through the place and eventually reaching your door. A silence falls before you hear a knock on your door.
“Hey, you up?” Fernando’s voice sounds, merely a whisper, as the door creaks open and closes again.
The bed dips behind you, though you ignore it, ignore him. You pretend to be asleep but you assume Fernando knows you’re awake since he starts speaking. “Look, what Daniel said.. It was stupid. I froze and I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you when you were there.” Fernando whispers with that softness that makes your chest feel tight.
Fernando presses up against your back and his arm wraps around your waist, like before. However, this time you don’t push him away, you just let him be. Finally you manage to fall asleep, quickly and comfortably, an effect Fernando’s had on you since you met years ago.
–
Sunlight streams through the slightly parted curtains as you stir awake. A warmth presses against your back. Warm breath on your neck and that arm is still wrapped around your waist.
A soft sigh escapes you as you bask in the warmth and comfort of Fernando’s embrace, something you’ve been doing more and more.
“Morning, mister.” You hear Fernando whisper which causes you to laugh a little. That laughter, however, dies when the words from last night replay in your head.
A soft ruffle sounds as you turn. “Does it get easier?” You ask Fernando. “Not feeling man enough..”
Those last words seem to grab Fernando’s attention, and suddenly he is fully awake. “You don’t feel man enough?” Fernando asks as he searches your face.
“I mean, it’s true what Daniel said, right?” A pause. “I’m no man, right? That’s what he said.”
Your eyes are shut closed when you feel his hands on your cheeks. “You’re a man. We both are.” Fernando whispers softly, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “It’s slow.. But when you start T, god it gets so much better. And before you know it you’ll have top surgery.”
“I’m so jealous of you.” You manage to laugh softly, reading your hand to rest on Fernando’s chest, feeling how flat it is despite the muscles that are present. “You’re handsome, you have nice facial hair,” a soft confession. “And your chest is nice and.. so are you.”
“You’re man enough.” Fernando states as he wraps his arms tighter around you. Your breath hitches as you feel a press of lips against your temple, Fernando’s body going rigid as he realises what he just did.
You blink your eyes open, holding on to the other tighter than before. “Fernando?” You whisper softly, leaning in closer to feel his breath on your lips, and before you can process it his lips are on yours.
The kiss is soft, trusting, like you’ve been doing this for years though in reality you haven’t. You sigh against Fernando’s mouth, nipping at his bottom lip as you slide your hand in his hair.
The bedsheets ruffle as both of you shift, pressing closer together as you kiss. You deepen the kiss, gently forcing your tongue into his mouth as you try to sit on his lap just to get pushed down against the bed.
“Boy.” Fernando whispers as he pulls back, a cheeky grin on his face. “Stop that.” He adds with that teasing tone when you put your hand flat against his chest, feeling the pec he has built back up since his top surgery all those months back.
You pause and actually pull back, earning a pout from Fernando in response. “No… Don’t stop, I liked that.” Fernando almost whines, something you haven't heard from him besides from the times he’s ill. The look in your eyes is quite serious, a little nervous too.
“You okay?” Fernando asks, a hint of worry shooting through him at the thought of you possibly feeling dysphoric.
Your face breaks into a smile and you peck Fernando’s lips. “I’m a-okay.” You whisper with a happy tone to your voice, pulling Fernando in for another deep kiss.
–
By mid-morning, after an hour more of cuddling and making out, you’re finally out of bed, leaving Fernando behind in the bedroom. Despite it being a weekend day you go through your usual morning routine, which as always ends with a self-made flat white.
This morning you’re on the balcony, overlooking the quiet street below, an occasional car passing by. You lean against the railing of the balcony, the sun just about hitting your face. The rays of the sun on your face feel nice and warm despite the cool morning temperature. You sip your coffee, replaying the events of earlier until you feel a warm body pressing against your back. “Finally decided to get up, lazy?” You ask with a soft laugh, tilting your head a little to the side as you feel Fernando’s kisses against the side of your neck.
Fernando chuckles in response. “Yeah and you didn’t even get me coffee.” He complains when the smell of your flat white hits his nose. “Oh wouw, look at that.” You hear him say as he points out an expensive looking car driving into the street below.
A soft hum escapes your lips as you watch the car drive by and you take another sip of your coffee, finishing the drink. You lean back against Fernando, feeling at peace with this new dynamic between you.
“You know..” You start as you push Fernando back just a little. “I think we’ll be just fine,” you turn around before finishing your sentence “boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend.” Fernando nods in agreement, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. “And you know…” He whispers against your lips, pulling back slightly. “I came out..”
You freeze ever so slightly. Fernando hasn’t told anyone he’s trans ever since starting uni. “Lucas and-”
“Yep,” Fernando cuts you off. “They were even more angry at Daniel after I came out. They were really chill about.. Everything.” He murmurs, pecking your lips again. “And turns out Lucas is bi too.”
“Could’ve seen that coming” You smile against Fernando’s lips, feeling happy and relieved that his boyfriend dared to come out to two of his closest friends. “And I’m proud of your stupid ass.” You laugh, insulting him a little like you’d done since you first met.
“I know,” Fernando says as he starts to pull you back into your shared apartment. “Now go on, I still want coffee.” He says as he gently nudges you back towards the kitchen, staying by your side the entire time.
SHANGHAI, CHINA - MARCH 12: Fernando Alonso of Spain and Aston Martin F1 Team speaks in the Drivers Press Conference during previews ahead of the F1 Grand Prix of China at Shanghai International Circuit on March 12, 2026 in Shanghai, China.
Hold my hand masterlist - Fernando Alonso Masterlist - F1 Masterlist
featuring: Fernando Alonso x ofc! Martina De Marchi
summary: Sometimes, when everything starts to fall apart, the only thing that matters is having someone close enough to stay, close enough to hold your hand.
genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
warnings: This story contains themes of domestic abuse (both verbal and physical), toxic relationships, and implied sexual violence.
It also includes emotionally heavy content and hospital settings that may be distressing to some readers.
author's note (please read!!!!!): A small note: this chapter, and the next few ones, were difficult to write because of the topics they deal with. Obviously I don’t truly know how someone like Martina, the protagonist, might feel in a situation of abuse like this one; everything I wrote comes purely from imagination and is not meant to diminish, stereotype, or trivialize anything. It’s simply a fictional story, with fictional characters and situations, and it is absolutely not intended to offend or hurt anyone.
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Fernando and Roberto walked back into the apartment, closing the door behind them.
“Do you feel better?” the doctor asked, looking at him, and the driver shrugged.
“For what it’s worth, a little...” he admitted. “I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he added, walking into the kitchen and pulling two beers out of the fridge.
“We have to tell her she needs to report him,” he said then, opening his bottle and taking a sip.
“Easy,” Roberto stopped him, doing the same. “She has to report him, obviously, but we can’t make her feel cornered, okay? Daniela is documenting everything, the bruises and the injuries. When the time comes, we’ll need them as evidence.”
“Evidence? What evidence do we need? She…”
“...Fernando...” Roberto immediately cut him off, looking at him. “When she reports him, hell is going to start.”
Fernando stayed still, looking at him.
“Interrogations, uncomfortable questions, inappropriate questions that will hurt,” Roberto continued. “He’ll defend himself by denying everything, I’m sure of it, and we’ll be there telling people what we saw, but he’ll have his own people too. And Martina will end up under the worst microscope you can imagine, repeating and recounting dozens of times every single time he hurt her, with details she’s probably trying to forget and that she’ll be forced to remember.”
Fernando remained still, looking at him.
He had made it sound simple in his head, going to the police, having him arrested and that would be it.
But it wasn’t like that.
“We need to give her time to be ready to face him, because all of this will be long, everything before and then the trial too,” Roberto continued. “So one thing at a time, think about keeping her safe right now.”
“She can stay here as long as she wants,” Fernando answered and then sighed. “If she wants to, obviously...” he continued before being interrupted by Daniela walking into the kitchen. Both men looked at her and silence fell.
The woman didn’t say anything and only lowered her eyes.
“She took a shower and changed, she’ll come out in a minute. I tried to... document what I could,” she said after a moment and then sighed. “And at this point I’d just like to walk across the hall and smash that idiot’s face in.”
“He already took care of that,” Roberto said, pointing at Fernando while the woman looked at them in surprise. “You should’ve seen the right hook he landed...”
Daniela smiled.
“I like you more and more, kid,” the woman said, before hearing footsteps behind her, and Martina appeared a moment later.
“Feeling better, sweetheart?” she asked and the girl nodded.
“Roby...” Martina said when she saw him.
“Hey...” the man smiled, walking toward her. “...I’m sorry,” he added quietly.
She didn’t answer immediately, it took her a moment.
“I should’ve asked for help sooner,” she admitted, crossing her arms.
“You did,” Fernando interrupted, looking at her. “Do you want to stay here? Or maybe you’d rather...”
“...you can come stay with me too if you want, sweetheart,” Daniela cut in.
“I...” Martina said, looking around a little lost, thinking that she absolutely didn’t want to be a burden on them. “...I could also get a room...”
“No,” Fernando stopped her immediately. “No... if you don’t feel comfortable staying here I understand, but...”
“...I’d like to stay here,” she interrupted, looking at him.
“Then it’s decided,” Roberto stepped in. “And we should go, Dany, what do you think? Maybe we’ll come by again tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, it’s late,” the woman agreed, hugging Martina. “Call me for anything,” she said quietly. “And my God, sweetheart, that boy really cares about you,” she added, making sure only she could hear it and managing to pull a small smile from her.
Daniela and Roberto left the apartment and silence returned.
“Are you tired?” Fernando asked, walking back into the kitchen. He felt a little like he was walking on eggshells, not really knowing how he was supposed to behave around her.
“No... not really,” she answered.
“If you want we could watch a movie or maybe...”
“Thank you,” she interrupted suddenly, remaining still and looking at him.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied.
“Yes, I do... You... You made me understand a lot of things, Fernando... You were the first person who actually stopped and listened to me,” Martina continued. “I had stopped believing and even hoping that things could get better, it didn’t seem possible to do all of this on my own...”
“You’re not alone,” he said.
“Not anymore,” she admitted. “But there’s one thing I want to make clear, you’re not obligated to take care of me, to stay behind me, to...”
“...no, I’m not,” he interrupted. “I know, it’s just that I want to.”
“And anyway you’re not obligated to stay here either, your life is yours and you don’t owe me anything, okay? That has to be clear, you don’t owe me anything. I didn’t help you for a reason, I helped you because... because it was the right thing to do, and because I care about you, but in no way should this become for you... a burden.”
“And what if I wanted to stay here?” she asked.
“Then mi casa es tu casa, doc,” he smiled. “...and his too...” he joked, pointing at the cat and Martina laughed, with tears in her eyes but she laughed.
Then silence fell and after a few moments she moved, walking toward him again, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, with the greatest act of trust she could give him.
Fernando hugged her.
“We’ll get through this, okay? One step at a time,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”
“He lives right across the hall...” Martina sighed.
“Not anymore, I told him to leave by tomorrow morning,” Fernando answered and the girl lifted her face in surprise.
“What?” she asked.
“I told him to leave and judging from the noises I heard in the hallway and in the parking lot, he’s doing it,” he replied confidently, holding her a little tighter. “He will never be a problem for you again,” he said, looking at her.
And Martina believed him.
Immediately, instantly, the very moment Fernando said those words.
“Now we’re throwing ourselves onto the couch and you’re going to try to... rest... or relax... or whatever you want to do. You can do it alone, you can do it with me, you can do whatever you want, without asking anyone for permission,” the driver told her.
She stayed still, enjoying those words, that hug, that unexpected feeling of safety.
“Twilight?” she asked after a moment and Fernando burst out laughing, completely unable to hold it back.
“Doc, you’re awful,” he said, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Like I could ever say no to you...” he continued. “But don’t get used to it,” he finished, amused, without moving.
“Fer...” she said after a moment.
“...Mhm?”
“...I don’t regret what happened after the beach...” she continued quietly.
Fernando sighed.
“Neither do I... Or maybe I do... But not because of that kiss, because...” he pulled back slightly to look at her. “Look what it led to...” he added. “...if I hadn’t done it, if I hadn’t texted you.”
“If it hadn’t happened maybe I’d still be at home with him,” Martina interrupted him.
“I wanted to leave him that night,” she said. “Before he found the message, before...” she let the sentence fall away. “But then I couldn’t do it, I was too scared.”
Fernando stayed silent.
He didn’t know what to say.
“And now... I... I need to...” Martina continued, her voice confused. “...I...”
“...Marty listen, you don’t owe me explanations...”
“...I can still feel him on me and it makes me sick,” she interrupted, trying to keep her voice steady.
Fernando felt the anger rise inside him, the kind of anger that blinds you. God, how much he wanted to go back to him and keep punching him again, and again... And instead he took a breath, because in that moment no act of violence was the right answer, not with her.
“Am I standing too close?” he asked then, keeping his tone calm and controlled. “Does it bother you?” he added and she shook her head.
“Marty listen, what happened that night doesn’t force you to stay here, or force you to want me around...”
“I don’t feel forced, Fer, I just feel happy and safe in a way I haven’t felt in I don’t even know how long,” she answered with a calmness the driver hadn’t expected. “I just need to understand how you stay close to someone while still remaining myself.”
“You always do that with me,” he smiled, stroking her arm. “And we have time, to understand everything we need to understand, okay?” he added and she nodded.
“Come on, let’s go watch that damn movie...” he joked then, making her laugh.
Fernando sat down on the couch, and she stretched out without saying anything, resting her head on his legs, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing deeply for the first time in forever: she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.
The movie started and Fernando immediately found something stupid to say, something Martina actually thought too while she enjoyed that atmosphere that felt so unreal to her.
Vampires, damp forests and ridiculous dialogue moved across the television screen, but Martina followed it as if it were the most beautiful movie she had ever seen, even though objectively it was awful, but she kept staying there, still, with her head resting on Fernando’s legs and her breathing finally slow and steady, while every now and then he lowered his gaze toward her almost to check if she was really still there.
Every now and then he absentmindedly stroked her hair with an automatic gesture, calm and without any hidden intention.
And Martina realized that it was the first time in years that someone had touched her without expecting anything in return.
She could still feel her body heavy, the bruises throbbing beneath the soft sweatshirt she was wearing, but slowly the pain was stopping being the only thing she could feel.
“Are you sleeping?” Fernando asked quietly after a long while.
She barely shook her head without hiding a small smile.
“So you’re watching the movie then?” he joked.
“Mhm.”
“And tell me, what’s happening?” he pressed, only to tease her a little.
Martina stayed silent for a few seconds.
“Bella is making terrible decisions as always,” she murmured and Fernando laughed softly.
Martina felt her chest tighten for a completely different reason than fear.
Because he kept treating her like Martina.
Not like a problem.
Not like someone to pity.
Not like something broken.
Just Martina.
“Fer...” she said after a while, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
“Mhm?”
“Should I call my dad?” she asked, maybe because she had been thinking about it, maybe because Bella’s father was talking too much on screen.
The question came so suddenly that his fingers stiffened slightly in her hair and Fernando took a few seconds before answering.
“I tried talking to him some time ago,” he said honestly in the end and she lifted herself slightly, surprised.
“But he didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to understand... He only wanted to see what was convenient for him to see.”
Martina lowered her eyes.
“I tried talking to him too a few months ago,” she said then.
Fernando felt something twist inside him.
“What?” he asked, incredulous.
“But... he told me I was exaggerating, that it was normal for couples to fight,” she continued without finding the courage to look at him. “I had worked up the courage after a really terrible night... It had started as a quiet evening and then... Then I wasn’t sexy enough, involved enough...” she let the sentence fall away.
“Did he force you to have sex with him?” Fernando asked, finding courage from somewhere he didn’t even know.
“I said yes myself because otherwise it was worse,” she answered, unable to hold his gaze.
“It wasn’t always like this, last year he got a promotion and then... then I don’t know, everything changed. Maybe he had always been an asshole but... he had never laid a hand on me...”
Fernando didn’t speak.
He didn’t want to interrupt her.
He didn’t want to force words into those silences.
“He made me feel special,” she continued. “He used to say I was different from other people, that I was intelligent, that he could immediately tell when I’d had a bad day...” she laughed softly, but it was a sad laugh. “I think that’s how all these stories start, right? Nobody treats you badly on the first day.”
Fernando slowly lowered his eyes toward her.
“No matter how it started, or what it became... it still isn’t your fault, Marty...”
She closed her eyes for a moment.
“I know... It’s just that at some point you stop understanding where you end and where fear begins.”
Fernando stayed still for a few moments and then lowered one hand slightly until his fingers brushed against her face.
“You need to report him, Marty...” he said a little later.
“I know but please, I don’t want to think about it tonight,” she answered, lifting her gaze toward him. “Not tonight, Fer...”
“Not tonight,” he agreed while Martina stretched out against him again with her head resting on him, pretending perhaps to watch that stupid movie.
featuring: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x female!reader
summary: You drag Robby into your world for one night and somehow the ER doctor who hates galas starts having a better time than he wants to admit.
genre: Romance, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life, x Reader
author's note: I honestly never expected such a warm response to my fanfic Hurricane... I mean, it was obviously a pretty weird idea, and seeing so much appreciation for it genuinely surprised me and honestly touched me a little too...
And even more than that, getting a request for a sequel from @secretreader04
I simply couldn’t not write it. But fair warning already: this story is probably even more OOC than the first one, mostly because it doesn’t take place in the ER!
I still hope I managed to do our Dr. Robby some justice anyway!
“Hi, doctor destroyed by an eleven-hour shift,” you say while slowly walking through the ambulance bay outside the ER. Robby has just walked out of the hospital doors and lifts his head in surprise as soon as he hears your voice.
Denim jacket, backpack over his shoulder, the look of someone who, once again, thinks he just saved the world, and maybe he actually did.
“Hi, woman wearing heels way too high to still have them on at seven in the evening...” he replies, a smile slowly appearing on his face.
“Are you kidding? Seven o’clock is exactly when heels reach happy hour level!” you smile, walking over to him. “Destroyed as usual?” you ask and he nods as you start walking again.
“A little...” he admits. “More because of coworkers than patients today...”
“ER gossip and secret affairs incoming?” you ask curiously.
“The ER isn’t exactly a place for gossip and secret affairs...” he mutters.
“Yeah sure... If that were true they wouldn’t have made ER, Grey’s Anatomy or House M.D....” you argue stubbornly.
“Those shows have absolutely nothing to do with real life in emergency rooms,” he replies, turning his head to look at you, probably already knowing this is a battle he’s going to lose.
“Then you should... produce a more accurate one,” you exclaim before laughing. “And anyway come on, there’s no way you people don’t have doctors hooking up with each other,” you continue and he rolls his eyes without managing to hide an amused smile.
“Anyway, changing worlds...” you start, “...would a night in my world really be completely off-limits for you?” you ask.
“What does that mean?” Robby asks with a laugh.
“I have a party, kind of a gala I have to attend, elegant clothes, lots of champagne, pictures, pointless conversations...” you begin explaining.
“A crystal hell...” he comments.
“Yeah okay, I figured you’d see it as something like that,” you laugh. “But I’d actually like to go with someone, so if by any chance you felt like...” you add.
“Going with you?” he asks, surprised, as if he still hasn’t understood what you’re asking him.
“No, asking your friend Abbott to come with me,” you reply seriously, stopping to stare at him while he stares back. “Yes Michael, coming with me,” you say before laughing. “I honestly don’t understand how you can be this clueless and at the same time a medical genius.”
“I got it,” he objects, maybe sounding more embarrassed than he wanted as you start walking again.
“You don’t have to answer right now, okay? Think about it...” you add.
“When is it?” he asks distractedly.
“Thursday.”
“Mhm... I’ll see...” he mutters.
“Wow Robinavitch, slow down, your excitement is overwhelming...” you comment sarcastically. “You really seem excited about spending an evening with me, huh?” you tease him.
“With you yes, with photographers less,” he comments.
“Too bad, I have an amazing dress,” you laugh just as you finally arrive in front of his building.
“You coming up?” he asks.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to ask,” you reply with a smile. “Come on, you need a shower, and honestly so do I... preferably with you,” you add, taking the keys from his hand and opening the front door.
-
You give yourself one last look in the mirror, hair okay, jewelry in place, and the dress that, objectively, turned out absolutely incredible.
You’re ready with fifteen minutes to spare before the driver arrives, which almost never happens.
You’re putting on one last touch of lipstick when you hear the doorbell ring. Luckily you’re ready because apparently the driver must be early. You walk over to open the door and find yourself staring at the most unexpected person possible: in the flesh, in person, Dr. Michael Robinavitch.
“And what are you doing here?” you ask without even thinking.
“You invited me,” he replies.
And it’s true, except after that night he had never really given you an answer, so you had simply assumed he wasn’t coming without taking it too personally, understanding that this really wasn’t his kind of environment.
“Yeah but...” you start before suddenly bursting into laughter. “...Oh my God!” you exclaim.
“What?” he asks, confused.
“You actually own a tux?” you ask while looking at him because, objectively, he looks ridiculously good.
Perfectly pressed black tux, beard less messy than usual and... he probably brushed his hair.
“I got it for the occasion. Do I pass, Your Majesty?” he asks, tilting his head.
“You have absolutely no idea how much I like you dressed like this, Robinavitch,” you say without dancing around it. “You’re almost making me want to skip the party entirely...”
“I didn’t put this suit on so you could take it off thirty minutes later...” he jokes, sliding his hands into his pockets and making you burst out laughing.
“Okay, okay... I’ll wait at least three hours, I promise,” you comment while grabbing your bag. “I’m happy you decided to come...” you add, sounding a little more serious as you look at him.
“I figured you cared about it,” he replies.
“A lot,” you conclude, taking his hand and closing the front door behind you.
-
The driver opens the car door in front of the building hosting the gala, a huge glass façade covered in warm lights reflecting off the sidewalk already crowded with people.
“Oh no...” Robby mutters as soon as he notices the carpet leading toward the entrance.
You immediately turn toward him, already amused.
“No what?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
“No to that,” he says while pointing ahead of himself and you follow his gaze before immediately bursting into laughter.
Photographers.
Lots of photographers.
“Michael Robinavitch...” you say solemnly while taking his hand, “...welcome to hell.”
“Jesus Christ...” he sighs. “You didn’t tell me it was this kind of thing...”
“Don’t make that face,” you laugh while stepping out of the car. “You look amazing.”
“That’s not the problem,” he mutters, sounding annoyed or intimidated.
“No?” you ask dramatically.
“No.”
“Breathe, okay?” you say quietly before stepping out first, waving at someone not too far away while he follows a second later with the expression of someone about to throw himself off a cliff.
“Hey!” a woman suddenly exclaims while walking over and hugging you. “Oh my God, you’re here!”
“I’m perfectly on time, stop complaining,” you answer with a laugh before your friend’s gaze shifts to your left.
“And who are you? I wasn’t expecting a plus one...” she comments playfully.
And then he does something you absolutely weren’t expecting.
He places a hand against your back.
Something small, natural, almost too natural, almost automatic.
But he does it.
“Michael,” he says simply with a polite smile that isn’t even too forced.
Not Dr. Robinavitch.
Not Robby.
Michael.
Your friend introduces herself and then turns away again, immediately going back to talking to someone else about God knows what, while you slowly turn your head to look at him.
“Oh my God...” you say, staring at him with a smile that promises absolutely nothing good.
He narrows his eyes.
“What?” he asks, not understanding.
“You’re doing the boyfriend thing,” you reply, unable to stop smiling.
“I’m not doing anything,” he objects seriously while looking at you before shaking his head.
“Michael...” you whisper, amused.
“Walk,” he says, gently pushing you forward and you can see it, you can actually see that he’s laughing too and that maybe, just maybe, he’s almost relaxed now.
“You’re smiling, you know that?” you say quietly, instinctively moving a little closer to him.
“I think I am,” he admits without even looking at you.
“So maybe... you’re almost happy to be here with me?” you dare ask and he stops, turning toward you.
“I seriously don’t understand how you do it, huh?” he says with a smile, the skin around his eyes creasing, the lines around his mouth pulling slightly in a smile you absolutely love.
“What? Making you like me even though I’m unbearable?” you joke.
“No. Making everything seem simple,” he replies. “There’s never anything that...”
“...I don’t save people for a living, I design clothes, I have fewer responsibilities,” you comment.
“That’s not it,” he interrupts immediately. “It’s your attitude that’s different, it’s the smile you always have...”
“You can’t be serious all the time, Dr. Robby, there are a lot of things in life worth smiling about,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Yeah, like your dress,” he jokes, making you laugh. “Or a night I normally wouldn’t have wanted to get anywhere near and yet...”
“...and yet it’s going to force you to drink champagne and make pointless conversation?” you ask.
“Yeah... something like that,” he laughs as the two of you start walking toward the bar together.
“Are you actually nervous?” you ask, lowering your voice a little.
He makes an almost imperceptible face.
“A little...” he finally admits.
And this time you’re the one looking at him in surprise, because Robby isn’t someone who admits things like that easily.
“Michael Robinavitch admitting he’s nervous...” you say dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “I’m almost getting emotional.”
“Don’t ruin the moment where I confessed this could actually turn into a nice evening with your usual sarcasm...” he objects.
“Too late,” you reply. “I live off sarcasm...” you joke before leaning closer and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
“I promise I won’t overdo it though...” you add with a smile. “...and besides, you’re sexy, so you really have no reason to worry about anything.”
He sighs softly, lowering his gaze toward you.
“You have serious issues.”
“And you keep seeing me anyway.”
And this time, even though he’s clearly trying to hold it back, you actually see him smile for real.
You continue walking slowly while people stop you every few feet, some hug you, others simply touch your arm to tell you how beautiful you look or how much they loved something from your latest collection, and at first Robby stays slightly behind you, drink in hand, wearing that observant expression he always has whenever he’s trying to understand something.
The strange thing, though, is that he doesn’t seem tense anymore.
He watches you.
And that’s it.
He watches you while you greet a girl barely in her twenties who practically throws herself at you for a hug, he watches you tuck a loose strand of hair behind the ear of a nervous model who keeps insisting the dress looks terrible on her, he watches you make someone laugh who had looked miserable three seconds earlier.
And you don’t even notice.
“Oh my God, finally!” a voice suddenly exclaims as it approaches you.
An elegant man, maybe in his forties, walks toward you with his arms wide open and you immediately smile.
“Daniel!” you exclaim, walking over to hug him.
“I was starting to think you had decided to abandon me on the most important day of my life,” the man says dramatically.
“Drama queen, I just made a carefully planned dramatic entrance with a tiny delay,” you laugh, lightly hitting his shoulder.
Then his gaze shifts beside you, stopping on Robby.
“And who would you be...?” he asks curiously.
Before you can even open your mouth you feel a hand gently rest against your back.
Again.
But this time you notice it immediately.
“Michael,” he says simply.
Daniel looks at him.
“Oh... that Michael? I’ve heard about you...” he suddenly exclaims.
“And this is where we end the conversation and goodbye Daniel...” you interrupt quickly, probably a little afraid of whatever your friend might accidentally reveal about your date.
“You’re the doctor, right?” Daniel continues and Robby nods. “She talks about you all the time...”
“Stop it...” you cut him off.
“The lady doesn’t appreciate having her secrets exposed,” your friend laughs. “Bye lovebirds, see you later.”
“Do you talk about me?” Robby’s voice comes from beside you and you roll your eyes.
“It may have happened,” you answer.
“Good things?” he presses and you burst out laughing.
“Depends...” you say while turning to look at him. “...mostly yes, I’d say... even more yes if you go get me some champagne right now...” you add and he lets his hand slide against your back as the two of you finally make your way toward the bar.
-
You’re sitting in the car on the way back to your place, the driver has just started driving and it’s late now, really late, and for a few seconds neither of you really moves, listening only to the sound of the sleeping city outside the window, so different from the noise and lights you just left behind.
You slowly slip your heels off and let them fall onto the floor mat with a relieved sigh.
“Finally...” you mutter, closing your eyes. “I think my feet are filing a lawsuit against Daniel.”
You hear Robby laugh softly beside you.
“You survived in the end...” you comment while turning toward him.
“Mhm...” he mutters in that usual ambiguous tone of his that somehow means everything and nothing.
“Mhm what?” you ask curiously while undoing your hair.
“Mhm... that it wasn’t terrible,” he explains and you look at him without speaking for a second.
“Michael Robinavitch...” you say quietly. “You had fun.”
“No,” he says immediately.
“You had fun,” you repeat with an amused smile.
“No.”
“You had fun and now you’re refusing to admit it,” you continue, with absolutely no intention of letting it go.
He slowly turns his head toward you, leaning a shoulder against the seat and looking at you for a few moments without saying anything.
“I liked watching you,” he finally says, just like that, as if it were nothing, as if it were simple, as if it were normal.
And for a second you stop smiling completely, caught entirely off guard.
“Watching me do what?” you ask after a moment.
“Watching you being... you,” he replies with that look he doesn’t show very often, the one that reminds you, and maybe reminds him too, of the man underneath the role, underneath the armor, underneath the scrubs.
He pauses.
“Working... talking to people, handling all that chaos...” he smiles slightly. “It felt a little like being in the ER.”
He jokes and starts laughing and you immediately burst into loud laughter too.
“You’re comparing my gala to your ER? Because last month I brought truckloads of clothes to your coworkers?” you ask, amused.
“I was just saying...” he starts before stopping for a second, lowering his gaze and then looking back at you. “...that I like you in every setting. In your world, and in mine...” he says in the end with a kind of naturalness that, once again, completely kills the words that maybe, just maybe, you had dared to think for a moment.
You lean over slightly and steal a kiss from that strange date of yours who, in the end, had actually pushed himself all the way there for you.
-
The newspaper lands heavily on the desk in front of Robby, making him immediately lift his eyes from the patient chart he had been reading.
“Dana!” he exclaims, staring at the head nurse standing in front of him with an extremely satisfied expression.
“You actually own a tux?” she asks, amused, trying as hard as possible not to smile too much.
Robby looks at her in confusion before lowering his eyes toward the newspaper that had landed in front of him a few seconds earlier and toward the picture he immediately recognizes.
Golden dress, glittering lights, red carpet, man in a tux.
Last night’s gala.
“None of your business, Dana,” Robby replies, turning the newspaper upside down so the picture is now facing the desk instead of being on display for everyone.
“She made you dress up and dragged you to something like that? Seriously? You hate those things, at the hospital galas you always pretend to be sick,” the woman laughs, shaking her head.
“I don’t hate them... Okay, maybe I kind of hate them but... this was different...” he mumbles.
“Was the golden dress the incentive?” the head nurse presses quietly.
“Stop it,” he warns, staring at her.
“You two looked beautiful, you know that? She’s... I’m still trying to figure out what she’s doing with someone like you...” she says with a teasing expression.
“Thanks...” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Dana says while grabbing a chart.
“Stupid?” he asks, confused.
“Yeah, like being too much yourself and scaring her away...” the head nurse replies before walking away, leaving him sitting there grumbling to himself.
It wasn’t a perfect episode, and it wasn’t a perfect season... But the truth is that this series has been wonderful... And for me, this moment ended those two’s story exactly the way it was supposed to end.
