Warnings: afab reader, no use of y/n, smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, kissing, nipple play, m and f orgasm
Word Count: 813
His lips felt like fire on your skin. It was only a kiss on your neck, his simple affection. A greeting. Tommy smelled like pure leather, aftershave, and sweat. He pulled you close and smiled against the goosebumps on your delicate skin.
Tommy murmured quietly, âPretty girl.â
âShut up.â You huffed, pulling away with a fat grin tugging at your lips.
You took him in, freshly arrived from the site to your home. His red flannel had dried sweat stains, jeans scratched up more than this morning, and his boots were covered in dirt. His dark wavy hair came down to his shoulders as he took his hair tie off. Gorgeous.
The last 4 months with Tommy surprised you as much as it did him. Itâs not that he was a player, more so he never lasted in a relationship more than 2 weeks. He wasnât upfront about it, but you could tell by the way you met. He bought you a drink, flirted, and you fell for it. He took you home and pleased you like it pained him not to. The next morning, Tommy made you breakfast and fucked your brains out against the counter. You gave him your number and he actually called. Three dates later, he was coming over, or you were, everyday. Nights alone at the bar were long gone, heâd rather watch your favorite movie in bed with you.
âWhatâs going on in that headâa yours?â Tommyâs eyes roamed all over you, tired and curious.
âSomething dirty.â
He sucked in a breath and gave you the biggest pout youâd ever seen from a grown man.
Before you could process what was happening, his mouth was on yours, lips sucking without fear. His hand roamed over your back, going higher and higher until his fingers met the clasp of your bra. The other was on your ass, squeezing through the denim and growling into your mouth. He propped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the bedroom. Both of his hands were pressing his crotch into yours, grinding desperately.
âShit.â He chuckled into your mouth as your tongue danced with his. Every feeling was heightened around Tommy. Stubble that had grown from his clean shaven face that morning scratched your cheek and nose. The heat in your belly spread all over, it was addicting.
He barely managed to shove his jeans and trunks down past his thighs after putting you down on the bed. He lifted your shirt just enough to suckle your breast. His tongue took turns circling your areola and laying it flat against your nipple over and over like a dog drinking water. You whined and pulled his head to the other lonely tit.
âSorry, mama.â Tommy apologized.
His hands yanked your pants down and pulled your panties aside.
Tommy usually took his time, making you cum at least twice before fucking you, but he was desperate. You could see his blown pupils even in the dark room, practically begging. âCan you take it like this?â He was out of breath, holding his dick at your entrance.
The moment you nodded, he pushed in slowly with a smug look on his face.
He was hung as a fucking horse, of course he was. It was skinnier than most, but eight inches could hit your g-spot better than anyone else youâd been with.
About half-way in, your walls were already clenching around him. You mewled into the bedsheet, fingernails digging into his back. âYou gotta- fuck..â He was breathless. âGotta relax for me, Iâll make you all better.â
You only clung on tighter and took a deep breath. âBear with me, baby.â A dirty smile clung on your lips. He chuckled and kissed you gently, feeling the tension leave your body. You were about to speak when he thrusted again, bottoming out.
âFuck!â A stray tear left the corner of your eye. You knew what you were in for.
He became relentless, touching as much as he could of you. Your hips met his pace quickly. Thrust. The hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Thrust. He kissed his way up your neck and grunted into your ear. âMy-â Thrust. âFucking-â Thrust. âPussy!â Suddenly your legs were over his shoulders. Bent in half, you yanked his hair.
The signal.
Tommy spit into his middle and ring finger and rubbed your clit in fast circles. Your hips jerked and a loud moan escaped you. âJust like that-â Your eyes shut as you chased your peak, feeling the coil your belly about to release. He rolled his hips and found the spongy spot near your cervix. âTommy-!â Your walls clamped down on him and it was over. He came hard inside you, rutting in his last few thrusts. Your ears were ringing as your body went limp under him.
This was my first time writing smut and was meant to be posted months ago.. Hope yâall liked it!!
Contains: pregnancy mention, breeding kink, cheating mentions (don't condone, just a hot fantasy), police mention, mean Tammi :(, really soft romance, divorce mention, 'daddy', p in v, fingering, f and m oral, f and m orgasm, shower sex
Author's Note: filthy smut and then sweet romance. It wasn't really my intention! But I felt guided by Sammy's character, so sorry about that!
You can read Part 1 here!
Gif credit: shortbreadjamandtea and kaizsche
--đŠˇ--
When you first whispered to Sammy that you might be pregnant, his face had lit up like Christmas. He couldn't speak for a second. All Sammy had wanted was to be a daddy, to look after a little one, his little one, and dote on a mother as in love with him as he was with her.
You had been nervous to say; it wasn't like this was a normal, functional set-up. You had recovered from losing your college place and were renting an apartment, financed by an admin job. The fact you were in a secret relationship with your brother-in-law was less recovering and more regressing, some might say.
Your relationship had begun when Sammy pressed you down into your sister's couch and fucked you into oblivion. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the time that made you pregnant. Sammy had cum so much until it was overflowing inside you. What you didn't know was Sammy had fucked you with a steely determination, pressing snug against your cervix and anchoring himself on the couch. He had made sure to keep pressed against it, spurting spray after spray deep inside you, with the grim determination of a desperate daddy.
There had been countless times since then of course, especially once you'd moved into your apartment. It had been fun sneaking around, Sammy banging you up against the living room wall, sat on the kitchen counter, in the shower, on Tammi's side of the bed.
Most of the time it had been whilst Tammi was out taking photographs with Victor, her photography instructor.
Some of the time it was not. Like when you were so excited that Sammy had come home, and you couldn't wait another night, you'd fabricated a poorly-disguised lie about needing the deep freezer. He'd barely left the car when you slammed into him, jumping to wrap your legs sound his chubby waist. Sammy had looked at you in bewildered surprise, which had quickly turned to gratitude, when you began kissing him. He moaned and returned the kiss eagerly, mouths open and wet. You had unbuttoned his shirt and wrapped his tie across your shoulders like a cardigan. You shushed him when he groaned into your mouth and let him step forwards, still holding your hips, and pressed you up against the garage wall. Sammy lifted one leg and pulled your red panties down and tossed them somewhere on the floor without looking, never stopping kissing you. He's unzipping himself with the same hand, taking himself out of his suit pants and pushing up into you. You cry out and Sammy buried his head in your neck, grunting as he pushed you up and down on himself. Your head was banging off the wall but you didn't care, moaning with your head thrown back. Sammy rutted into you with unbridled desperation, hitting against the spot deep inside you. He had you squirting all over his cock, splattering against his suit pants and spraying against the floor. Sammy came with a roar, fucking his cum back up into you until his cock was soft and curled up.
He had walked into the house, closing the door, sunglasses still on and lips swollen from kissing you. You had straightened your dress and pulled your panties back up before bringing out some ice cubes no one wanted or needed.
The second time was whilst you were in the shower. Sammy had left Tammi sleeping in bed and slunk into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. You had turned to face him and Sammy's jaw went slack. The pounding water running down your naked body, your wet hair plastered to your head, and traces of mascara streaking tears down your cheeks.
Sammy had grunted and couldn't get undressed quickly enough. Knowing that Tammi could wake at any time and pad into the apartment to look for him and not being able to find him, his car still on the driveway, and muffled sighs flooding through the closed, unlocked bathroom door.
The thought of it made Sammy cum even harder. You had dropped to your knees and kissed down his squishy belly, through his auburn pubic hair, and onto his cock. He had groaned and thrown his head back against the cold tiles, hissing through his teeth. You had teased the head with your tongue, making slow circles and little kitten licks across it, before spitting on him. Sammy had nearly choked. You held him by the hilt and took him deep in your mouth, bobbing your head whilst Sammy's hand had fisted in your hair and pulled you off of him to stop him from cumming too soon.
You had stood back up, licking the taste of his pre-cum across the flat of his tongue, before pressing yourself up against the tiles. The scalding water had run down your back as Sammy roughly pushed his fingers inside of you, groaning about how tight you were. 'What am I going to do with you?' He had asked, lining up against you and sinking inside you. 'Fuck... 'm gon-gonna,' he had garbled, seconds within entering you. 'No... nooo stop... stop, don't do that... oh-ohhh fuck... 'm cumming.'
It had started and was all over in less than five minutes. He kept you bent like that, leaning to lick across your pussy, blazing a burnimg path along you. Without being able to reach your clit from this angle, fucked you with his tongue. Sammy's own cum was slathered across his tongue and running down his chin, mixing with the water. He kept bringing you right to the edge, working his mouth on you. Sammy was moaning as he was eating you, open-mouthed then French kisses all along the inside of your pussy, then pulling back and stopping your orgasm right as it was about to take you down. You were crying out in frustration as he edged you, the sound masked by the water still crashing down your back, and onto Sammy's freckled shoulders. The tip of his tongue finally, finally reached your clit, but just the very tip. The gentle, desperate motion was enough to send you crashing over the edge, until he made you cum on his face. Sammy had desperately finger fucked his cum back into you then, worried about having swallowed half of it and wasting it.
--đŠˇ--
Sammy had tried to stop the swell of hope and had immediately run to the pharmacy. He came back with four pregnancy tests ("just to be sure", he said). Sammy made you drink a carafe of water and then came into the bathroom with you, sitting on the side of the bath. One of your hands you used to hold the pregnancy tests under you, the other hand was pressed into Sammy's, fingers intertwined. The only pause was when you handed him each test, which he reverently lined up one by one on the sink, before returning to hold your hand again.
Sammy literally squealed with excitement when the first one came up with two lines. He pulled you closer, his eyes flicking between each of yours. 'We're having a baby! We're havin' a fuckin' baby!' He kissed you and squeezed your hand so tight. Sammy's grin stretched his whole face and he ran a large hand through his auburn curls.
'I hope they have gorgeous red hair and your freckles,' you whispered, rendered speechless with happiness. Sammy's eyes widened at this and he leant in again, his eyes flicking between each of yours. 'I love you,' he said seriously.
It was the first fime he'd ever said it. Your insides set alight. You looked at his adoring, hopeful face. 'I love you too,' you whispered. You'd wanted to say it for a while now, but didn't know how. You weren't sure how Sammy would react.
Sammy leant in and kissed you, a hand at the back of your head, gently pulling you closer and sighing in your mouth. Then he suddenly pulled away to inspect the other tests. Sammy subconsciously rested his hand over your stomach, even though there was absolutely no bump to show yet. Two, three, four. 8 blue lines.
Sammy started crying. 'I'm gonna be a daddy.'
It was all he ever wanted. He couldn't believe it was finally happening, and with you.
'Is this a dream?' Sammy's eyes sparkled, tears splashing onto his freckled cheeks. You kissed them away. 'No, Sammy,' you replied softly, 'but it's pretty fucking close.'
--đŠˇ--
Sammy had insisted on keeping the first pregnancy test. You had wrinkled your nose but Sammy said he needed it for his baby box. It was blue and carefully resealable. He had brought out a few collected items from his suitcase, avoiding your eyes as he carefully placed them inside. It made your heart melt.
The fact that your deadend, selfish sister had fumbled this man, had carelessly missed the opportunity to have his babies, blew your mind. It had given you this amazing gift, though.
Speaking of Tammi... how were you ever going to tell your sister you were having her husband's baby? It was like an episode of the Jerry Springer show.
You were lying on the sofa together, the tv quietly on in the background. Sammy was lying sideways across it and you were between his legs, your back to his chest. Sammy had carefully covered you with a blanket. His hand rested protectively on your stomach. It often did nowadays, and Sammy always insisted you lay together like that. His fingers large hand covered most of your stomach, and his fingers absentmindedly swirled around your belly button.
'You're going to be a great father,' you told him, nestling against his soft, pudgy stomach.
'Our kid is so lucky they'll have you for a mom.'
'Awh, Sammy... love you.'
'I love you. You're making me a daddy,' Sammy whispered, and kissed the top of your head. You felt a thrill run through you every time Sammy said it. It made it more real.
'I am... daddy,' you purred.
There was a moment of silence.
'Say that again.' Sammy's voice was strangled.
'You're such a good daddy. You take care of me so well.'
You felt his cock twitch beneath you.
'Oh, you're the best,' you moaned. Sammy's hand drifted down past your hips and played along the edge of your panties.
'Tell me how,' Sammy's voice was high-pitched and wrecked. You carried on as he came undone beneath you.
'You rub my big round belly...' Sammy's hard cock pressed insistently against your back.
'Yeah?' He squeaked. 'Oh yeah, making sure my big tits are massaged ready for milk...' Sammy let out a slow, wounded sound. '... and you take care of any aches I can't reach...' Sammy is whimpering softly down your ear, his hot breath against your neck.
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly reaching your pussy lips. You were soaking.
'Is thi-this... okay?' Sammy squeaked. 'Ohhh, it feels so nice... daddy,' you moaned.
Sammy couldn't take any more. He growled and pushed his fingers inside your pussy folds, running his fingers up and down you. 'Ohh-hhh-hhhh-hhh,' Sammy let out a low, deep, gravelly shudder that travelled into his voice as he touched you.
'Da-daddy's gonna make you feel all nice,' he groaned, testing the word out loud, and swirling his finger around your clit. You moaned loudly, leaning back against his squishy tummy and letting your body go floppy against him.
As Sammy's thick fingers gently dragged inside you, you moaned, pushing back against his hard cock, pressed up and caged in his suit pants. 'Oh, daddy...' you groaned as fire sparked up your spine in pleasure. You heard a whine and then a guttural release of breath. You slowly felt a warm, wet patch spreading through his pants. 'Fuck, so s-sorry baby...' Sammy stuttered, 'jus' with you sayin' daddy like that.' Sammy shuddered and humped his hips a little against your back, whining as he milked the last of his cum into his boxers.
You had reached the stage where you were desperate to be fucked, all of the time. Sammy was in heaven. He'd been getting it at least once a day. Biting down on his fist at work when you sent filthy messages about what you'd do to him when he got home, if you were in the stationary cupboard at work, what your tits looked like right now (*attach image*). For a police officer, he disagreed with traffic lights a lot.
--đŠˇ--
Sammy couldn't have been more attentive, picking up a swing set and bringing it over after work. A soft, halcyon evening. You were leaning against the door frame holding the decaffeinated tea he had made you, watching him carefully set it up with a solemn reverence, and it made your heart melt. Sammy had painted the baby's room and hung a soft animal mobile above the crib. You had cried.
He attended every appointment, getting there early and fizzing with excitement. Sammy kept a copy of the sonogram in his wallet. He referred to 'baby Bryant' in every conversation.
--đŠˇ--
When you had called your mom to tell her, she had burst into tears down the phone. Tammi hadn't noticed Sammy was hardly home. She was constantly high on drugs, either semi-conscious or babbling nonsense, bumping into things on her way to "take photographs" with Victor.
She hadn't exactly given you a warm congratulations, and her distance only made you feel relieved. Tammi became less and less of a conversation piece. Sammy was practically living with you by this point. He was always finding something to do for the baby; picking you the best chair for breastfeeding and the best buggy for baby Bryant to relax in on your future adventures to the park.
You had quit your job by this point. Sammy was insistent you were looked after, and that he could afford it. You had tried to argue you were pregnant, blessedly not infirm, but Sammy wouldn't hear it. He would say you were doing the most important job of all, growing your child.
You carefully danced around the topic of the father with your mom until she finally dropped it. You knew the conversation was coming at some point, but you'd made yourself clear and your mom respected your boundaries. She was just excited to meet her grandchild.
--đŠˇ--
Sammy came home from work one day with a strange energy. He immediately made you sit down on the sofa, close your eyes, and hold out your hands.
'I've been stung by this before,' you said wryly.
'Haaa-ha,' Sammy replied, 'it's not my cock.'
'Awww,' you pouted, making Sammy laugh. 'I don't want it then.' 'Later. 's even better.' 'Better than your cock?!' You were jokingly incredulous.
'Ssstop... you'll get me all horny again, babe.' You smirked as you felt his weight sink beside you on the sofa. 'Open.' He commanded, sounding overly pleased with himself.
You opened your eyes and looked down. In your hand was a sheaf of what appeared to be legal documents. Your eyes flicked to Sammy. 'Wha-?' 'Read it!!' Sammy was vibrating.
Your mouth fell open.
'You- you're divorcing Tammi?'
'Yes!!!!' Sammy leaned in and kissed your cheek.
'Oh my god. Oh my GOD!' You shrieked. You couldn't help adding, 'it's about fucking time!'
Sammy left, feeling weightless, floating above the sky. 'Exactly.' He pressed a kiss to your lips. 'You and baby Bryant are my priority. You-you're my world... 'love you endlessly. Time to start a new chapter.'
Tears spilled down his face. You wiped them gently away with a finger. 'I couldn't be happier.'
'Yeah?' Sammy asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and terrified of rejection, of having scared you away.
'You are my world...' your fingers ran through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. Sammy leant back into your fingers, closing his eyes, moaning softly. '... and my sister is a bitch.'
A smile crossed over Sammy's face. 'I'm so happy. I never wanted to expect things from you or have you feel pressured. These last seven months have been the happiest time of my life.' You felt yourself get choked up.
You leant in before you could cry. 'And I've never once had to fake an orgasm.'
Sammy burst out laughing. 'Not like with Josh.'
'Fucking Josh,' you agreed, rolling your eyes.
You placed your lips against his, inches apart. 'I love you,' you breathed, the letters forming against his mouth, one by one.
'You're mine... all mine,' Sammy pushed his mouth against yours. It was a soft, gentle kiss. Tender and conveying emotions you both didn't have words for.
You breathed him in as he kissed you, the oxytocin and his cologne a heady mix.
Sammy smirked against your mouth and groaned, ''don't think I could get you any more pregnant... but I'm gonna really fuckin' try.'
â premise: you and sammy had made a promise as troubled teens to get married at 25 if you were both single. sammy meets tammi the next day and forgets all about the promise but you never did and you stand by him.
â warnings: early seasons freshly divorced!sammy bryant x childhood bestfriend!fem!reader, 3.5k wc of fluff & smut, nicknames [favorite & sweet girl, honey], inexperienced! reader, lowkey pervy! sammy, panty stealer! sammy, unprotected sex, fuck tammi & she isnât pregnant in this fic.
â a/n: requested!
Sammy has never been more grateful for you than in this exact moment. His angelic savior of a best friend whoâs been by his side since he was a reckless stoner teenager.
He and Tammi called it quits, they are getting a divorce finally. But with his continuing horrible stroke of bad luck â while heâs out she changes the damn locks, locking him out of his own house and moves the man she cheated on him with in his place. He could very well call Nate and crash on his couch but if heâs being honest with himself he would much rather temporarily move in with you instead.Â
As Tammi grew more and more controlling and crazy, she drove a wedge between you and him. Rambling on and on how itâs so obvious that you two are in love and heâs cheating on her with you, in the end all Tammi was doing was telling on herself. Even if she might be a tad right about the in love part. She just about flipped her shit on him when she heard him call you his favorite girl for the first time as if itâs not something heâs called you since you were kids. So heâd love to mend the gap she caused and living with you though an odd way to go about it, seems like itâd help. His decision is also aided by the fact he deeply missed being around you.
When he shows up at your door, all his clothes shoved in bags that his ex wife so graciously threw on the curb, meeting your shocked face with a funny joke trying to break the ice â âHoney iâm homeâ you are quick to let him in, concern evident on your face. âSammy? What-â you take in the sight of his hands full of just about all his belongings and put together the pieces. âOh sammyâ you coo and run a hand down his arm with furrowed brows. You are albeit a bit quicker than you mean to be offering him a spot to sleep in your bed as itâs full size and you want him to be comfortable. As much as it actually pains Sammy to say no, he does and tells you that your pull out couch is just fine. Youâve shared a bed in your youth and having your body in such close proximity practically wrapped around his did things to him he wasnât ready to examine at 16. Heâs certain itâd cause the same if not a much worse reaction if you did it now that you two were older.Â
Living with you is a breeze though more than he expected it to be, he adapts so seamlessly into your routines and your life that it scares him a bit. The two of you wake around the same time, you padding out to tell him âGood morning Sammyâ each time with a sweet smile before rubbing at your eyes as they adjust to the shining sun. The two of you work in tandem to make breakfast side by side before you sit together at your kitchen island. Thighs pressed together from the slightly cramped space as he ignores the semi in his boxers from just waking up, the sight of you in a little silk matching pj set not helping â and eat together as you chat about each of your plans for the day ahead. Mornings just might become his favorite at this rate if this is how they go every time.Â
You work the same long hours as he does too and even when he comes home later than you, you donât nag him on where heâs been and why he was out so long. It jars him the first time he comes home late at night, spending the end half of his shift catching up on reports and all you greet him with is a sleepy smile and a hi from your spot on his makeshift bed where you laid watching a show. Acting like you definitely weren't waiting up on him. You just enjoy being able to say goodnight to him is all. He has to remind himself you arenât Tammi, you arenât even his wife let alone his fucking girlfriend so why would you care where heâs been? And why does the reminder of that induce an ache in his chest. He goes to sleep that night with his face shoved in one of the pillows you had been laying on. It was coated in your perfume and Sammy does his best to ignore the way your scent on his pillows affects his body.
His favorite part of living with you has to be though, the resurgence of your movie marathon nights. They are a core memory of his teenage years with you, you coming over to his house even if you did have school the next day. Sammy and you would curl up under blankets in his bedroom, popcorn and candy in hand and binge your favorite movies. Any franchise of movies the other had interest in you would watch them all together, you even forced him to watch far more rom-coms than he cares to admit. Youâd have to boardline torture that information out of him. His favorite romantic comedy may or may not be, when Harry met Sally. Those nights ended shortly after he started dating Tammi without him really noticing and he never realized how badly he missed them til they started again.Â
Whenever his and your days off coincide he canât help the giddy feeling he gets knowing itâll be movie night. Going on a grocery trip with you to stock up on your favorite snacks, discussing which movies to watch as you go down the aisles. âHow about the conjuring movies, I heard the fourth one is out? Think itâs the last, we can watch all fourâ he suggests. âSammyyyyâ you whine, âI donât do well with scary movies you know thatâ you grab a package of oreos and plop them in the cart before looking back at him. All he can do is smile and hook an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. âYouâll be alright, I'll take care of my favorite girl, you know that. Got a cop staying with you anyway, I'll keep yaâ safeâ he chuckles softly, letting you go not noticing the small pout that grows on your face from the loss of his touch.Â
Now he does have a least favorite part of living with you. Laundry day. And it has nothing to do with the fact he has to do laundry. These days always include you bouncing around the apartment in a big t-shirt â usually an old police academy one of his. He canât help staring at you, face flushed and his dick twitching for attention. You tell him itâs the only clean piece of clothing you could find, he lets you get away with the little white lie â because well you just look so damn cute in it. It also satisfies a small possessive spark in his bones to see you in his clothes, even if no one else does. Sammy is far more desperate than heâd confess, however to learn if you are even wearing panties under the shirt or not. Secretly he hopes you arenât. His cock chubbing up in his jeans as he watches you bend over to pick up the large basket of dirty clothes, praying everytime that just once the t-shirt will hike up and he can catch a peak. His face turning red when you snap back up and spin around facing him, only giving him a little wave before you walk towards your small laundry room.
Heâs not sure when he became so accepting of his attraction towards you. Heâs known for years that itâs been there, hidden away under his ribs in a locked away part of his heart. He's never let it come so naturally before and allow himself to acknowledge it. When the two of you were 17 was the last time he let himself even indulge in the possible idea of getting to have you. Sat on an old tree that had long since fallen down in front of the creek, yours and Sammyâs spot. Pinkies intertwined with the promise of â âIf we both arenât married by 25 we will marry each otherâ you seal the words by both leaning down and kissing the other person's pinky. But then Sammy met Tammi shortly after and when they got married young, he took that as a sign from the universe that maybe heâd never get to really have you in the way heâd dream about. Donât get him wrong, at some point he did love Tammi, he really did, he gave their relationship his all. Far more than he should have, he's recently learned, but he never loved her nearly as much as he loves you.Â
Itâs been about a month of living with you when Sammy comes home one night to see you very sluggishly attempting to do the dishes. He watches as you practically move in slow motion, dragging your feet from the overflowing sink to the dishwasher after you scrub at them to get the majority of the guck off. He can tell you had a bad day as he drops his holster and keys on the entrance table before making his way to you. Your eyes rimmed in red as if youâve been crying, your cuticles irritated from being picked at and your lips looking kissable bitten. He stops you mid scrub by wrapping a hand around your wrist. âHoney, let me do thatâ he whispers, tone soft and laced in worry. âGo lay down, you look like you had a hard day, i can do thisâ the hand not holding your wrist comes down to rub at your lower back. He seems to miss the hitch in your breath at the action before you are turning to face him. âYou had a long day too and I can-âÂ
He cuts you off, guiding you away from the sink. âI want to do it, need my favorite girl to relaxâ âNow go lay downâ he prompts before letting you go and pushing up at the sleeves of his uniform shirt to get to work. Now from the sink out of the corner of his eye he can see you wander off slowly towards the couch or well his bed, he expected you to pad off to your room. Itâs not much further than the living room but as he cleans dishes he watches you climb into the crumpled blankets of his fold out bed. He damn near drops a plate heâs holding when you bring the fabric to your nose and bury your face in it before your shoulders go slack and you sigh. The scent of him permeating the bedding acting like melatonin for your nervous system and lulling you to sleep. He ignores the thump in his heart and continues on finishing up the dishes.Â
Once heâs done, quietly he makes his way over to your sleeping figure. It hurts him to wake you and as much as heâd love to climb in beside you, tug you against him and knock out. Heâs not 100% sure you wouldnât smack him when you wake up to his morning wood pressed to your ass. Even if heâs come to terms with his desire for you, heâs unaware if itâs reciprocated â it completely is â and you are rather inexperienced so even if it was heâd want to take things slow if only he could ever man up and admit his feelings. Ever the coward that Sammy is though, he doesnât have any plans to do so anytime soon. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he rubs his first two knuckles against your cheek softly. âGotta get up, you need to go to bed sweet girlâ he whispers, doing his best not to startle you.
With a whine you slowly stir awake, your tired eyes blinking up at him making him feel horrible for waking you up. âIâd let you sleep here honey but itâs not all that comfortableâ he chuckles softly, letting you use him for leverage to get off the couch. Wrapping your arm across his shoulders he lifts you up with sleepy babbles leaving your lips that Sammy canât decipher. He guides you towards your room with a hand on your back, thumb rubbing circles against your shirt. Getting you settled in bed, maneuvering your body under your covers, he tucks you in with a kiss to your forehead. His lips linger a tad longer than intended. âI love yous sammy sâ muchâ you mumble out, a small twinge hits his chest, he wishes so bad you mean it in the way he feels. Before he can question sleepy you, you fall right back asleep. With a small sigh, a dopey smile on his face he rubs at your soft lips with his thumb. âI love you just as much sweet girlâ he coos under his breath.Â
As he is walking out of your room, he catches sight of a basket of your clean clothes abandoned on the floor near the bathroom. Wanting to help you out further he picks it up, ready to carry it off back to your room. He stops in the middle of the hall however when his eyes spot a pair of your panties sitting atop, a lace black pair of your underwear. Heâs exhausted, itâs wrong, he shouldnât do it. He shouldn't take them and do all the dirty things heâs desperate to do to the tiny lacey piece of fabric he canât stop staring at. The longer he looks at them, he forgets each reason itâs a bad idea.Â
His eyes flick now between the basket in his hands and your open bedroom door, as if you arenât completely knocked out and are gonna catch him red handed. On impulse he snatches the tempting fabric from the pile and shoves them in his pocket before scurrying off to deposit the basket on your bedroom floor and leave once again. He keeps telling himself itâd be too perverted, itâs too pathetic, he shoudnât fucking do it. But as he strips himself of his uniform and gets comfortable, he takes them out. Laying out on top of his blankets that now smell like a mixture of you and him he breaks. His cock is rock hard by now, aching and throbbing at the mental image of the skimpy lace on your body. Pushing his thumbs in the waist band of his too tight boxers he tugs them down his thick thighs to free his cock, a groan slipping out softly before wrapping your panties around himself.
The soft fabric against his red angry bulbous tip makes his hips twitch before he drags his hand down his shaft. A broken breath leaves his mouth, jerking his hand back up. A string of shaky whines and whimpers fall from his lips as he uses your clean panties to jerk off. He wishes he found a basket of your dirty clothes, the idea of your slick coated panties wrapped around his cock instead of a clean pair makes his hand speed up. âFuck sweet girl, need you sâ badâ he cries out, his hips thrusting up to meet his fist, fucking up into it as if it really was your pussy. Though heâs sure your cunt would tighten far more around him than his own hand is.Â
You are awoken again when Sammyâs whimpers flood down the hall and fill your ears. âSammy?â you question out loud, sleep and concern lacing your voice. Blinking open your eyes, your thighs squeeze together at the sounds coming from the living room. You are worried something is wrong but god damn if the noises arenât a little hot, but they sound distressed especially as he says your name. Ripping your comforter off your body, you pull yourself from bed and trudge down the hall. âSam-â you stop in your tracks at the sight before you. âWant you sâ badâ-â Sammy groan is cut off from where he is spread out on his makeshift bed, jerking off. Jerking off with your panties in fact, and all you can do is let out a breathless whine. âOh fuckâ he gasps out, scrambling to cover himself with a blanket.Â
âMâ sorry, im so so sorry fuckâ he rambles out, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. âI know- god i know I'm a depraved pervert, fuck you hate me donât youâ he cries out, his thoughts now spiraling.Â
Slick settles in your core, without another word you walk closer to an embarrassed Sammy and tug the blanket off him. âShit- honey what are you doing?â he questions, finally looking up to meet your drowsy but lust filled eyes. Heâs speechless at sight, any excuse or words he had on the tip of his tongue gone. âPleaseâ you plead, for what you donât even know but Sammy seems to when he grabs ahold of your hand and lightly yanks your body to him. Crashing his lips against yours in a frantic emotion filled kiss. âWanted you sâ badâ he mumbles into the kiss, panting into your mouth as your hand lands on his chest and drags down towards his cock. âShit- wait baby we donât- you donât-â he starts to attempt to stop you from touching his leaking cock. âWant to, please Sammy wanna touch youâ you cry out, your sleepy emotions getting the better of you. Pulling away from you, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he does. âSweet girl, I-â he sighs, he hates himself right now but he needs to tell you this before anything. As badly as he wants this he canât do it if itâs not gonna mean anything to you or worse if it will mess up the friendship.Â
âI canât do this, I know you havenât been with many people, sweet girl and i canât, i canât just be a risk free new experience or something. I-â âYouâre not-â you start but Sammy seems to not hear you. âI love you, more than as just my best friend and i want this, want you sâ bad you have no ideaâ grabbing him by his chin you force his eyes on you again. âI love you Sammy, always have, why do you think we made that promiseâ âWhat-â âIf that was the only way i couldâve been with you i wouldâve been happy, cause i had you but you met Tammi and forgot about itâ you sigh out, your heart heavy at the reminder. âI always remembered the promise honeyâ he whispers. You are on him again in a second, kissing him with fear and love mixed in one, your hands roaming his body, down his chest, through his hair at the base of his neck, down his arms. Sammy canât help the way his hips buck up in the air at your touch â âMaybe we should slow downâ he groans out even if his words are the last thing he wants to do. Going slow apparently flies right out of the window the second he actually has you on him.Â
âNoâ you whine out, âDonât want slow, want you inside me.â A choked moan leaves Sammyâs mouth, pulling you on top of him, your panties he stole now covered in precum falling off his twitching cock landing somewhere in the bed. Using the leverage of his hold on you he flips you under him, smiling in the kiss when you wrap your legs around his waist. He peels his boxers the rest of the way off his legs and gets to work at tugging your slick soaked panties off you. âYaâ have a condom somewhere in this damn apartment or something honey?â he questions, words hushed and muffled against your spit coated lips. âDonât need oneâ you whine in response, lifting your hips to help him rid you of your underwear. Your words however caused him to pull away, âWh- Why?âÂ
You shrug â âHasnât been anyone for years, only wanted you.â âFuck-â Sammy groans. âKnow youâve been tested because of Tammi so weâre okayâ you finish. Sammy canât wait a second longer, quickly making work of dragging his tip down your folds before pushing every inch inside you. Not giving you much of a moment to react or adjust as he pulls his hips back and thrusts inside you, staring down at you with love sick eyes. âMm fuck!â you moan out at your pussy stretching around him. Slipping his hands down he grabs onto your hips, leaning down pressing his tummy to yours as he drills into. Whispering in your ear as his cock slams into your g-spotâ âGonna make my favorite girl cum around my cock, then im taking yaâ on a proper date tomorrow babyâ He finally got his girl, heâs never letting you go now.
â a/n: rushed the smut at the end cause i was losing my writing flow state and itâs 5:30 am by the time iâm finishing this up. proofread but mightâve missed mistakes.
Request - Hello hello Miss Paige! I'm not quite sure if your requests are open but if they are I was wondering if I could request a dr Robby x wife reader they've been trying to get pregnant but she's infertile then one day he actually adopts baby Jane doe as their own! I just loved they way he was with that baby girl and I couldn't help but think of your ficsđŠˇ
The alarm would go off at six. You would groan dramatically, tugging the comforter over your head while Robby muttered something unintelligible into his pillow beside you. It happened every weekday without fail. He worked twelve-hour shifts saving lives in one of Pittsburghâs busiest emergency departments, and yet somehow the trauma attending who could bark orders through a mass casualty incident became an absolute menace whenever his alarm clock dared interrupt his sleep.
âMichael,â youâd mumble.
âNo.â
âYou have to go to work.â
âIâve thought about it. I donât.â
Youâd laugh into the pillow before reaching over him to silence the alarm yourself.
âYou have patients.â
âTheyâll understand.â
âI donât think they will.â
Heâd sigh theatrically before finally rolling onto his back, rubbing both hands over his face. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
âI am on your side. My side just also likes having electricity.â
That would earn you one sleepy glare before he reached over, caught your wrist, and tugged you back against him for one more minute.
âFive,â heâd negotiate.
âOne.â
âFour.â
âTwo.â
He kissed you.
âDeal.â
Those two extra minutes always turned into ten. By six-thirty the house smelled like coffee instead of sleep. You stood barefoot in the kitchen wearing one of Robbyâs old Pitt Medical Center hoodies while scrambling eggs, your hair twisted into a messy clip that never survived the morning. Robby wandered in freshly showered, smoothing his black scrub top over a blue undershirt.
âYou stealing my clothes again?â he asked.
âI married you. Theyâre community property.â
âI donât think thatâs how marriage works.â
âIt is in Pennsylvania.â
He snorted, pouring himself coffee before leaning against the counter to watch you.
âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âYouâve got that face.â
âWhat face?â
âThe one where youâre about to ask me to do something.â
You smiled innocently. âThe museumâs getting a Roman exhibit delivered today.â
âMhm.â
âAnd the shipping company insists everything has to be unloaded before eight.â
âMhm.â
âAnd I mightâve volunteered to help move a two-thousand-year-old marble bust.â
ââŚAbsolutely not.â
âIt only weighsââ
âI donât care if it weighs two pounds.â
âIt weighsâŚâ You hesitated.
His eyebrow rose.
ââŚOne hundred and forty.â
He stared at you.
âSweetheart.â
âI wasnât going to carry it by myself.â
âYou werenât going to touch it.â
âI am literally the curator.â
âYouâre literally five-foot-seven.â
âI am capable.â
He stepped forward until he was standing directly in front of you, one hand wrapping around your waist while the other brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
âI know you are.â His voice softened. âBut I also know you throw your back out reaching for cereal on the top shelf.â
âI did that once.â
âIt was last month.â
âIt was embarrassing enough the first time.â
âI carried you downstairs.â
âYou laughed.â
âI absolutely did.â
You smacked his chest. He kissed you anyway. It was easy. That was your favorite thing about loving Michael Robinavich. Nothing between the two of you ever felt forced. Not after five years together. Not after nearly three years of marriage.
Life wasnât glamorous. It wasnât some grand romance full of extravagant gestures. It was grocery lists on the refrigerator. It was him bringing home the good sourdough because heâd remembered youâd mentioned it three weeks earlier. It was you texting him reminders to eat something besides coffee and vending machine pretzels. It was ordinary. Beautifully ordinary. ExceptâŚ
For the calendar hidden inside the junk drawer. After Robby left for work, you stood in the kitchen for a long moment before quietly opening it. A small planner. Nothing fancy. Just dates. Tiny circles. Little hearts. Doctorâs notes. Ovulation windows. Expected periods. Pregnancy tests.
Six months. Six months of timing dinners around fertile windows. Six months of joking about how unromantic phone reminders could be. Six months of buying tests in bulk because somehow that hurt less than buying one. Youâd promised each other you werenât going to obsess. You were failing spectacularly.
******
The museum was quieter than usual that afternoon. Children wandered through the dinosaur exhibit while a retired couple asked thoughtful questions about an upcoming Impressionist collection. Normally, the work grounded you. You loved watching people discover something theyâd never noticed before. History had a way of reminding everyone that time kept moving. Today, though your phone buzzed.
Michael â¤ď¸
Howâs Caesar?
You smiled despite yourself.
Roman exhibit survived. Curator still alive.
His reply came almost immediately.
Good. I wouldâve hated explaining to your parents that you lost a fight with Julius Caesar.
It was Augustus.
History nerd.
Trauma nerd.
Three bouncing dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then came one final message.
Donât make plans tonight.
Your stomach fluttered.
Why?
Because Iâm taking my wife to dinner.
Special occasion?
There was a pause before his answer came through.
No. Just miss you.
Your eyes stung unexpectedly. Not because anything was wrong. Because everything was still so right. Even with the quiet disappointment that arrived every month, he had never let this become about obligation. He still flirted. He still stole kisses in the kitchen. He still reached for your hand whenever the two of you crossed a street.
He never made you feel like your marriage was becoming a checklist. And somehow that almost made the ache worse.
******
Dinner ended with the two of you sharing cheesecake because Robby insisted ordering two desserts was âfinancially irresponsible.â
âYou make more than enough money to buy two slices.â
âThatâs exactly how rich people become poor.â
You laughed.
âYou have absolutely no evidence to support that.â
âI have vibes.â
âYou have anxiety.â
âI have both.â
When you got home, the evening settled into its familiar rhythm. You changed into pajamas. He stretched out beside you on the couch. Some terrible reality competition played in the background that neither of you was actually watching. Eventually your head found his shoulder. His fingers absentmindedly traced circles across the back of your hand.
âHey?â he said quietly.
âMhm?â
âWhen does your period start?â
You looked down at your intertwined fingers.
âTomorrow.â
Silence. Not awkward. JustâŚheavy. He squeezed your hand once.
âMaybe this month it wonât?â
You smiled. Not because you believed it anymore. But because he still did.
ââŚMaybe this month.â
Neither of you noticed that neither answer sounded quite as hopeful as it had six months before.
******
The pregnancy test sat face down on the bathroom counter. Neither of you had touched it in nearly twenty minutes. There wasnât any reason to. You already knew what it said. You had known before youâd even taken it.
Negative. Again.
You leaned against the vanity with your arms folded tightly across your stomach, staring at the white subway tile on the opposite wall as though if you looked long enough, it would somehow rearrange itself into different news. Behind you, the bedroom remained quiet. Robby hadnât come in. He never did. Not unless you asked. It wasnât avoidance. It was respect.
The bathroom had become your space every month. Your place to breathe, to process, to cry if you needed to without feeling like someone was trying to make the disappointment disappear before you were ready. A soft knock came against the door.
âYou okay?â
His voice was gentle. You closed your eyes.
ââŚNo.â
The door opened just enough for him to peek inside. He didnât ask about the test. He didnât have to. His eyes found yours before they drifted briefly toward the counter. One glance. That was enough.
âOh, sweetheartâŚâ
He crossed the room slowly, giving you every opportunity to tell him to stop. Instead, you stepped into him. His arms wrapped around you automatically, one hand settling against the back of your head while the other rested low against your back.
Neither of you spoke. There wasnât anything left to say that hadnât already been said during the last six months.
âIâm tired,â you whispered into his T-shirt.
âI know.â
âIâm so tired of hoping.â
âI know.â
âIt feels stupid now.â
âIt isnât.â
âIt does.â
He kissed the top of your head.
âNo,â he murmured. âIt feels human.â
Your breathing hitched.
âI keep thinkingâŚâ You swallowed hard. âMaybe I did something wrong years ago. Maybe I waited too long. Maybeââ
âNo.â
His answer came immediately. Firm. Certain. You pulled back enough to look at him.
âNo,â he repeated. âWeâre not doing that.â
âButââ
âWeâre not.â His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes. âYou donât get to blame yourself for biology.â
âI just donât understand.â
âI know.â
âIâve done everything.â
âI know.â
âI track everything.â
âI know.â
âI stopped drinking wine.â
âI noticed.â
âI even switched shampoo because some woman online saidââ
His mouth twitched despite himself.
âYou switched shampoo?â
âIt had three million views.â
âYou let TikTok make medical decisions?â
âIt was a vulnerable moment.â
That earned the smallest laugh from both of you. Tiny. Fragile. But real. Robby rested his forehead against yours.
âWeâre making an appointment.â
You nodded.
âI thinkâŚâ you whispered. âI think itâs time.â
******
The fertility clinic didnât smell like a hospital. It smelled like lavender. Someone had clearly decided soft lighting and watercolor paintings would somehow make difficult conversations easier. You werenât convinced.
Robby sat beside you in the waiting room, one knee bouncing almost imperceptibly. Most people assumed he was unshakable. You knew better. His tells were microscopic. The bouncing knee. The way he rolled his wedding band around his finger. The fact that heâd read the same magazine page three times without turning it. He looked over.
âYou want to leave?â
You almost laughed.
âYou think weâd make it to the parking garage?â
âNo.â
âMe neither.â
He reached across the armrest, quietly intertwining your fingers. When the nurse finally called your names, he didnât let go.
The appointment lasted just under an hour. There were questions. Medical history. Blood work. Imaging. Follow-up testing over the next several weeks. Life carried on around those appointments.
You curated exhibits. Robby worked shifts. You still laughed. Still made dinner together. Still argued over whose turn it was to fold laundry. But beneath everythingâŚThere was waiting. Until one rainy Thursday afternoon. The doctorâs office overlooked downtown Pittsburgh. Gray clouds pressed against the windows while traffic crawled several stories below. The physician sat across from both of you with a folder resting on her lap. She wasnât rushed. You appreciated that.
âWe have your results.â
Your stomach dropped. She explained everything carefully. The findings. The diagnosis. The statistics. The possibilities. She talked about specialists. IVF. Egg donation. Embryo adoption. Surrogacy. Future conversations. Words continued filling the room.nYou heard them. You just couldnât seem to hold onto them. Because one sentence kept echoing louder than the rest.
âThe likelihood of conceiving naturally is extremely low.â
The office became impossibly quiet. You looked down at your hands.
ââŚOkay.â
It came out barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded sympathetically.
âIâm very sorry.â
You smiled automatically. The same polite smile youâd perfected through years of museum galas and donor dinners.
âThank you.â
Beside you, Robby asked thoughtful questions. The kind he always asked. Clarifying. Respectful. Professional. You barely registered the conversation.
The drive home was silent. Not uncomfortable. Rain tapped softly against the windshield while Pittsburgh blurred past in streaks of gray. Robby kept one hand on the steering wheel. The other rested quietly between the seats. Palm up.
Waiting.
You slipped your hand into his halfway across one of the bridges. He squeezed once. Neither of you spoke.
You didnât make dinner. Neither of you was hungry. The takeout containers sat unopened on the kitchen counter while evening slowly settled over the house. You changed into one of Robbyâs old sweatshirts before wandering into the living room.
He found you sitting on the floor. Your back leaned against the couch.nYour knees hugged tightly against your chest.nHe didnât ask permission. He simply sat beside you. Close enough that your shoulders touched. For several minutesâŚ
Nothing. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily. Cars passed outside. Rain continued falling.
âI feel broken.â
His eyes closed.
ââŚDonât say that.â
âI do.â
âYou arenât broken.â
âI canât do the one thing my bodyâs supposed toââ
âBaby, stop.â
His voice wasnât loud. It was pleading. You looked over. His eyes were already wet.
âI need you to listen to me for a minute.â
You nodded silently. He turned toward you completely.
âI married you because you make me laugh when Iâve had the worst day of my life.â
A tear slipped down your cheek.
âI married you because you can spend forty-five minutes explaining why one painting belongs in a different room, and somehow I end up caring.â
Another tear followed.
âI married you because you dance in this kitchen while youâre making grilled cheese.â
You laughed through your tears.
âI do not.â
âYou do.â
âI sway.â
âYou choreograph.â His own voice cracked. âI didnât marry you because I thought youâd give me children.â
He reached up, brushing away another tear with the pad of his thumb.
âI married you because youâre my favorite person.â
Your lip trembled.
âIf our family ends up being just usâŚâ He shrugged gently. âThen I won.â
You broke. Not quietly. Not gracefully. The sob tore out of your chest before you could stop it. You buried your face against his shoulder while he wrapped both arms around you, holding you so tightly it almost hurt.
âIâm sorry,â you cried.
âSo am I.â
âIâm so sorry.â
He shook his head immediately
âFor everything.â
He gently cupped your face until you had no choice but to look at him.
âThere is nothingââ his voice caught before he steadied it, âânothing for you to apologize to me for. We lost something today. We did. Youâre not alone in this.â
Your tears kept falling.
âI donât know what happens next.â
He smiled sadly.
ââŚNeither do I.â
The honesty of it settled between you. No promises. No false hope. Just truth. After a long silence, he rested his forehead against yours.
âWe donât have to decide anything tonight.â
You nodded.
âNot IVF.â
Another nod.
âNot adoption.â
You closed your eyes.
âNot fostering.â
His thumb stroked your cheek.
âWeâre allowed to justâŚbe sad for a while.â
You reached for his hand, weaving your fingers through his.
ââŚOkay.â
He kissed your forehead. Then your temple. Then your cheek. Finally, he whispered the only promise he knew he could keep.
âIâm not going anywhere.â
Outside, the rain continued to fall against the windows. Inside, two people sat on the living room floor grieving the future they had imagined, completely unaware that, months from now, a tiny little baby with no name, no family, and nowhere else to go would quietly change both of their lives forever.
******
The museum had closed nearly two hours ago. Youâd spent the evening cataloging a recent donationâa collection of handwritten Civil War letters that had somehow survived more than a century tucked inside an attic trunk. Usually, work like that settled your mind. It required patience. Precision. Quiet.
Tonight, though, you couldnât focus. Your eyes kept drifting toward the clock hanging above your office door.
9:17 p.m.
Robby shouldâve been home an hour ago. You knew better than to worry immediately. The emergency department didnât run on schedules, and Michael Robinavich certainly didnât leave simply because the clock told him he could.
StillâŚYou sent a text.
You: Alive?
No response. You sighed, slipping your phone back into your purse before locking your office and making your way through the empty museum. Outside, the July air was warm, the city humming softly around you. By the time you reached home, the sun had disappeared completely.
The house was dark. You kicked off your shoes, changed into leggings and one of Robbyâs old T-shirts, and started making grilled cheese sandwiches. One for you. One for him. Youâd learned long ago that after difficult shifts, he almost never admitted he was hungry.
Heâd simply wander into the kitchen and steal yours. You smiled to yourself. Some habits never changed.
******
It was nearly midnight when headlights finally swept across the living room wall. You looked up from the couch.
ââŚJesus.â
You hurried to the front door before heâd even reached it. When it opened, the first thing you noticed wasnât the infant carrier sitting beside his feet. It was him.
His shoulders sagged beneath his jacket. His hair was flattened in odd directions from repeatedly dragging his hands through it. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He lookedâŚ
Empty. Not physically. Emotionally. Like someone had quietly taken pieces of him throughout the day and forgotten to give them back.
âMichaelâŚâ
His eyes found yours. For a secondâŚyou saw them soften with relief.
âHey.â
His voice was hoarse.
âYou okay?â
He gave a tired shrug.
âI donât know.â
Your heart cracked. Then your eyes drifted downward.
ââŚHoney?â
He followed your gaze.
âOh.â
As though heâd forgotten.
âThereâŚthereâs a baby.â You blinked. ââŚMichael.â
âI know.â
ââŚMichael.â
âI know.â
You stared at the infant carrier. Then back at your husband.
ââŚWhose baby is that?â
He scrubbed both hands over his exhausted face.
âI honestly donât know.â
ââŚWhat?â
He stepped inside, carefully lifting the carrier before nudging the front door closed with his foot. The little girl inside couldnât have been more than a few months old. She was asleep. One tiny fist tucked beneath her cheek. Dark eyelashes resting against impossibly round little cheeks. Your entire body instinctively softened.
âOhâŚâ
Robby carefully set the carrier on the living room rug before crouching beside it. He didnât look at the baby. He looked at the floor.
âIt was a hell of a shift.â
You quietly sat beside him. He took a long breath.
âThey found her.â You waited. âWrapped in a blanket.â
Another silence.
âNo identification. No diaper bag. No note.â His jaw tightened. âNothing.â
You reached for his hand. He accepted it immediately.
âCPS has been trying to locate family all day.â He swallowed. âNobodyâs come.â
Your eyes drifted back toward the sleeping infant.
âSoâŚâ
âSo hospital policy allows temporary emergency placement with qualified caregivers whenâŚâ He rubbed a hand over his eyes again. âWhen there isnât an immediate placement available.â
He laughed once. It wasnât amused.
âThey asked if Iâd take her overnight.â
âYou said yes.â
âI didnât even think.â
His voice sounded almost apologetic.
âI justâŚâ He looked at the baby. ââŚI couldnât leave her there.â
You smiled sadly. His shoulders slumped even further.
âI know thatâs insane. I have absolutely no business bringing an infant home after today.â
âYou brought her somewhere safe.â
âI donât even know what Iâm doing.â
âYou keep premature babies alive for a living.â
âThatâs different.â
âHow?â
âThey leave. They go home.â
The words escaped before he could stop them. Silence settled between you. He immediately regretted saying it.
âIâm sorry.â
You shook your head.
âNo.â
âI shouldnât haveââ
âNo.â You scooted closer until your shoulder rested against his. âI know what you meant.â
He nodded once. Barely. After another long silence, he finally whisperedâŚ
âI lost three people today.â
Your breath caught.
âI had to tell an old friend heâs got cancer.â
âIâm sorry.â
âAnd thenâŚâ His eyes landed on the babyâs again. ââŚThere she was.â
The tiny baby stretched in her sleep, making the smallest little sigh.
âI kept walking past her room all day.â His voice cracked. âEvery time I walked byâŚâ
He laughed bitterly.
âSheâd justâŚlook at me.â
You listened.
âI donât know why.â He shook his head. âIâd stop for thirty seconds. Talk to her. Make a bottle. Rock her. Then Iâd get called away again.â
His fingers curled tightly together.
âI donât even like pediatrics.â
That earned the tiniest smile from you.
âI know.â
âI barely tolerate healthy adults.â
âI definitely know.â
âButâŚâ He stared at the sleeping infant. ââŚShe didnât have anyone.â
His voice broke completely on that sentence. Youâd seen Michael cry exactly three times in your marriage. This wasnât quite crying.nIt was something quieter. The exhaustion of a man whose heart had simply reached capacity.
Without saying a word, you wrapped both arms around him. He leaned into you immediately. His forehead rested against your shoulder. For several minutes neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the babyâs tiny, steady breathing. Eventually, Robby exhaled shakily.
âI donât think I can keep doing this forever.â
You knew he wasnât talking about the baby. He was talking about the emergency department. About the endless losses.nThe impossible expectations. The depression heâd been carrying for months. You kissed the top of his head.
âYou donât have to figure that out tonight.â
âNo?â
âTonightâŚâ You glanced toward the little girl sleeping peacefully between you. ââŚTonight we just keep her safe.â
He looked over. Really looked. At the baby. A faint smile touched his lips for the first time all day.
âYeah.â
He reached into the carrier, carefully sliding one finger into the babyâs tiny hand. She wrapped all five little fingers around it instinctively. Robby froze.
ââŚWell,â he whispered, sounding almost awestruck.
âI think she likes you.â
He let out the softest laugh.
âIâve had tougher patients.â
You grinned.
âThatâs a bold statement. She hasnât even had dinner yet.â
Almost as if on cue, the babyâs face scrunched. One tiny whimper escaped. Then another. Robby looked at you. You looked at him. Neither of you moved.
ââŚDo you know how to make a bottle?â you asked.
He blinked.
ââŚDo you know how to make a bottle?â
ââŚNo.â
ââŚHuh.â
The babyâs whimpers quickly escalated into full-fledged cries. You both sprang into motion at exactly the same time, bumping shoulders before staring at each other. Despite everythingâŚDespite the grief. The infertility. The horrific shift. The depression weighing on his shoulders. You both started laughing.
It wasnât because anything was funny. It was because for the first time in monthsâŚThe two of you werenât thinking about what your future might never be. You were simply trying to comfort a tiny little girl who, for one night at least, had somehow found her way home.
******
Three days.
It was only supposed to be one. Youâd both known that from the beginning. One night. Then Child Protective Services would find an emergency foster placement, and Baby Jane Doe would continue whatever uncertain journey had begun before either of you ever met her. ExceptâŚthe emergency placement had fallen through. Then another. Then another. Paperwork. Background checks. A family illness. A home that suddenly couldnât accommodate an infant. Every morning someone called. Every afternoon they apologized. Every evening the baby was still there.
******
By the fourth morning, she had quietly becomeâŚ
Jane.
Neither of you remembered when youâd stopped calling her Baby Jane Doe. It had simply happened. Like calling a stranger by their first name after enough conversations.
âYou spoil her.â
You looked over from the kitchen. Robby stood in the living room with Jane tucked against his shoulder, slowly pacing barefoot across the hardwood floor while she chewed determinedly on the collar of his T-shirt.
âI do not.â
âYou absolutely do.â
âIâm preventing emotional distress.â
âSheâs asleep.â
âIâm preventing future emotional distress.â
You laughed.
âI donât think she understands your preventative medicine.â
âI donât think you understand babies.â
âI have books.â
âI have a baby.â
You rolled your eyes dramatically.
âGod, youâre insufferable.â
âAnd yetâŚâ He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks. ââŚyou married me anyway.â
The smile looked different now. Lighter. Not because everything in his life had suddenly become okay. The emergency department was still exhausting him. Some mornings he still sat in his car for several minutes before walking inside. Some nights he came home quieter than usual. The depression hadnât disappeared. ButâŚJane seemed to interrupt it.
She gave him something that didnât ask him to save the impossible. She only asked for a bottle. Or a diaper. Or someone to hold her. For the first time in months, you watched your husband care for someone without the weight of wondering whether theyâd survive until morning.
Later that evening, Jane finally fell asleep after what felt like an hour of determinedly refusing to admit she was tired. You laughed quietly as Robby tiptoed out of the nursery youâd hastily assembled in the guest room.
âYou know she weighs maybe twelve pounds.â
He nodded solemnly.
âAnd?â
âYou walk like sheâs made of glass.â
âI think sheâs offended by your tone.â
âI think youâre ridiculous.â
âIâve accepted that.â
He followed you into the living room. The television played softly in the background. Neither of you paid attention. The baby monitor rested on the coffee table between two mugs of tea. Robby stared at it. Longer than necessary. You noticed.
âWhat?â
He didnât answer immediately. InsteadâŚHe leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The silence stretched.
âI got a call today.â
Your stomach tightened.
âAbout Jane?â
He nodded.
âCPS.â
You instinctively looked toward the hallway. As though someone might already be there to take her.
âTheyâre still looking.â
You swallowed.
âOh.â
âNo family has come forward.â
You nodded once.
âTheyâre expanding the search.â
âOkay.â
âTheyâre beginning discussions about long-term placement if that doesnât change.â
Your heart started pounding. You knew where this conversation was going. Or maybeâŚYou hoped you didnât. Robby rubbed both hands together.
âIâve been thinking.â
âSo have I.â
âI know.â
Silence settled again. He looked at you. Really looked at you.
ââŚCan I ask you something?â
âYou never have to ask.â
He smiled faintly.
âI think I do.â
You reached across the couch, taking his hand.
âAsk.â
He took a slow breath.
ââŚWhat if we tried?â
Your eyes immediately filled.
âYou meanâŚâ
âI meanâŚâ His voice softened. ââŚWhat if we asked if we could become her permanent placement?â
The room became impossibly quiet. You looked toward the hallway again. Toward the tiny little girl asleep in the next room.
âIâve been trying not to think about it.â
âI know.â
âIâve been telling myself sheâs only here temporarily.â
âI know.â
âIâve been telling myself not to get attached.â
âI know.â
Another tear slid down your cheek.
âI think I failed.â
His thumb brushed the back of your hand.
âI failed too.â
You laughed through your tears.
âI love her.â
âSo do I.â
âI shouldnât already.â
âI know.â
You wiped quickly at your face.
âButâŚâ Your voice trembled. âIâm scared.â
His expression softened immediately.
âI know.â
âNoâŚâ You shook your head. âdonât mean scared of being a parent.â
âI know what you mean, baby.â
âIâm scared theyâll take her.â
He didnât interrupt.
âIâm scared her mother will come back.â
Another tear escaped.
âAnd if sheâs healthy and safe and readyâŚâ You swallowed hard. ââŚthen they should.â
He nodded immediately.
âThey should.â
âIâm scared weâll fall completely in love with herâŚâ Your voice cracked. ââŚand then weâll have to hand her to someone else.â
He closed his eyes.
âI know.â
âI donât know if I can survive losing another child.â
The words hung between you. Raw. Honest. He shifted closer until your knees touched.
âIâve thought about that every single day.â
âYou have?â
He nodded.
âEvery day.â He looked toward the hallway. âI also think about the possibility that she doesnât have anyone.â
You followed his gaze.
âWhat ifâŚâ His voice barely rose above a whisper. ââŚwhat if weâre supposed to be her someone?â
You covered your mouth. Immediately, tears spilled over.
âI canât promise you this works.â He reached up, gently pulling your hand away so he could hold it. âI canât promise CPS says yes.â
You nodded.
âI canât promise her biological family wonât be found.â
Another nod.
âI canât promise we wonât get hurt.â
You squeezed his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white.
âButâŚâ He smiled sadly. ââŚIâd rather have my heart broken trying to love her than spend the rest of my life wondering if we shouldâve.â
You stared at him. The man who had spent months reminding you that your worth had never depended on having children. The man who had quietly carried a little abandoned girl through your front door because he couldnât bear the thought of her spending another night alone. The man who still came home haunted by the emergency department and somehow still found enough gentleness left inside himself to rock a baby to sleep. You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his.
ââŚI want to try.â
His breath caught.
âI know it might not happen.â
âRight.â
âI know we could lose her.â
âRight.â
âI know this could absolutely destroy us.â
He smiled through eyes that had begun to glisten.
âIt could.â
You laughed softly.
âYouâre supposed to talk me out of this.â
âI donât think I can.â
âNo?â
He shook his head.
âIâve been picturing teaching her how to ride a bike.â
Your heart shattered all over again.
âIâve been picturing taking her to the museum.â
He chuckled quietly.
âSheâll probably hate museums.â
âSheâll pretend to like them because I love them.â
âAnd then sheâll beg me for ice cream afterward.â
âWhich youâll absolutely buy.â
âObviously.â
You smiled through tears.
âSoâŚâ
He squeezed your hand.
âSoâŚâ
âWe ask?â
He looked toward the hallway one last time before looking back at you.
âWe ask.â
Neither of you realized it then, but that simple decision made on a quiet evening over cooling cups of tea while a baby monitor hummed softly between you, would become the moment your family truly began. Not because the paperwork had been signed. Not because the law had changed.
But because, for the first time, the future you were imagining had a little girl in it. And neither of you could imagine it any other way.
******
The courthouse was smaller than youâd imagined. After months of paperwork, home studies, interviews, fingerprinting, reference letters, background checks, meetings with social workers, sleepless nights, impossible waiting, and more than one phone call that had left both you and Robby convinced everything was about to fall apart, it somehow came down to an ordinary brick building tucked between a law office and a coffee shop in downtown Pittsburgh. It felt underwhelming.
The biggest day of your life had fluorescent lighting. You adjusted Janeâs little cream-colored cardigan for what had to be the tenth time that morning. She immediately tugged it crooked again.
âOh, sweetheartâŚâ
You laughed quietly, trying to smooth it back into place.
âYou know Iâm going to keep fixing that until we go inside.â
Jane looked up at you with the enormous brown eyes that had somehow become capable of melting every ounce of stress from your body. Then she grinned. Not a polite smile. Not a baby smile. One of those giant, uninhibited grins that showed every tiny tooth sheâd managed to grow over the past year.
âMama!â
Your chest tightened. Every single time. Sheâd started calling you Mama nearly four months ago. Not because anyone had taught her. Not because youâd encouraged it. One morning while you were making blueberry pancakes sheâd simply crawled into the kitchen, wrapped both arms around your leg and announcedâ
âMama.â
Youâd cried so hard that Robby had nearly burned breakfast. Even now It still didnât feel real. You scooped her into your arms, pressing a kiss against her soft curls.
âHi, baby.â
Tiny fingers immediately found the necklace around your neck. Her favorite game. You let her play. Across the room, Robby emerged from the courthouse hallway with two cups of coffee balanced carefully in one hand.
Heâd traded his scrubs for a navy suit that looked as though heâd forgotten how to wear anything besides scrubs. His tie sat ever so slightly crooked. You smiled.
âYou knowâŚâ
He handed you one of the coffees.
ââŚyouâre the only trauma attending in Pittsburgh who somehow still canât tie a Windsor knot.â
âI can.â
âYou absolutely cannot.â
âI choose not to.â
âYou called Langdon this morning.â
ââŚI did.â
âTo tie your tie.â
âHe has surprisingly useful life skills.â
You laughed.
âHe also showed up thirty minutes early just to make fun of you.â
âI regret asking.â
As though summoned by the conversation, Langdon appeared from farther down the hallway carrying a gift bag with cartoon dinosaurs printed across the side.
âI heard my name.â
âYou usually do,â Robby muttered.
Langdon ignored him entirely, crouching down in front of Jane.
âAnd who is this beautiful little troublemaker?â
Jane immediately reached for him.
âNope.â Langdon stood back up. âI changed my mind.â
Robby smirked.
âSmartest thing youâve said all year.â
âYouâve been changing diapers for six months.â
âI have.â
âAnd youâre judging me?â
âI absolutely am.â
âYouâve become unbearable.â
âIâve become a father.â
The words slipped out so naturally that none of you reacted at first. Not Langdon. Not you. Not even Robby. It wasnât until several seconds later that his own expression changed. His eyes blinked once. Then twice.
ââŚHuh.â
You looked at him. He looked back.
âI guess I have.â
The smile that spread across his face wasnât dramatic. It wasnât accompanied by tears. It was simplyâŚPeace. A kind of quiet peace you hadnât seen in him for a very long time. The emergency department still exhausted him. Some shifts still left him sitting in the driveway with both hands on the steering wheel before he found the energy to come inside. There were still difficult days. Still nights where the weight of everything heâd seen settled heavily across his shoulders. But there was something different now.
He came home. And Jane came babbling down the hallway mumbling, âDada!â
Every. Single. Time. No matter what kind of shift heâd had. No matter how broken he felt. There was always one tiny human being who believed he had just hung the moon.
It hadnât cured his depression. It hadnât erased the hospital. But it had reminded him that life existed outside those walls.
******
The courtroom itself was intimate. No jury. No spectators. Just a judge, your attorney, the county representative, your social worker, and a handful of people who loved the three of you enough to take time away from their own lives.
Dana sat in the second row with tissues already in her lap. Jack was openly crying before anyone had even spoken. Langdon leaned over.
âIâve got twenty bucks that Robinavich cries first.â
âYou donât have twenty dollars.â
âI could.â
âYour broke ass would never.â
The judge looked over her glasses.
âGentlemen.â
Langdon immediately straightened.
âSorry, Your Honor.â
Robby didnât even pretend heâd been participating. The hearing wasnât long. Questions. Confirmations. Paperwork. The social worker smiled as she spoke about your home. About Jane. About the stability sheâd found. About the way sheâd blossomed over the previous time with you and Robby.
The judge asked you both why you wanted to adopt. You answered first. Your voice trembled.
âI spent a long time grieving the family I thought weâd have.â
You looked toward Jane, happily stacking blocks on the courtroom floor while Dana helped her.
âAnd then she walked into our lives.â A tear slipped free. âI donât believe sheâs replacing anything.â
You smiled.
âI think sheâs simply become something completely her own.â
The judge nodded before looking toward Robby.
âAnd you, Doctor Robinavich?â
He sat quietly for a moment. Anyone who knew Michael knew that silence. It meant he was searching for exactly the right words.
âIâve spent most of my career meeting people on the worst day of their lives.â
The room grew still.
âI fix what I can.â His fingers found yours beneath the table. âAnd I carry what I canât.â
His thumb brushed across your wedding ring.
âThe day Jane came into the emergency departmentâŚâ He glanced toward the little girl laughing with Dana. ââŚshe needed someone.â
His voice grew quieter.
âI thought I was saying yes for one night.â He smiled. âTurns outâŚâ
He looked at you.
ââŚI was saying yes to the rest of my life.â
There wasnât a dry eye left in the courtroom. Not even the judgeâs.
The final signature lookedâŚordinary. Ink on paper. Nothing more. The judge smiled warmly before sliding the documents across the desk.
âCongratulations.â
She looked toward Jane.
âAs of this momentâŚâ She tapped the paperwork once. ââŚshe is officially your daughter.â
Silence. For one suspended heartbeatâŚNo one moved. Then you heard tiny slaps pattering across the hardwood floor. Jane had abandoned her blocks. She crawled straight toward the two of you with complete confidence.
âDada!â
Robby bent instinctively, scooping her into his arms before she could even come to a stop herself. She laughed. One of those loud baby laughs that filled every corner of the courtroom. Then she looked over at you. Tiny hands reached.
âMama.â
You stepped beside them, wrapping one arm around Robbyâs waist while the other settled gently against Janeâs little back. She fit there so perfectly. As though sheâd always belonged between you. Robby looked down at her. His jaw tightened. You recognized it immediately. The tears.bHe was fighting them. Hard. You smiled softly.
âYou donât have to hold it together.â
âI know.â
âYouâve earned this.â
âI know.â His voice cracked anyway. âI justâŚâ
He swallowed.
âI kept thinking someone was going to tell us no.â
Your own tears spilled freely now.
âSo did I.â
He rested his forehead against yours, Jane giggling happily because she was suddenly trapped in the middle of a hug. Neither of you cared.
âI love you,â he whispered.
âI love you too.â
He looked down at Jane.
âAnd I love you.â
Janeâs response was immediate.
âDada!â
Robby laughed. A real laugh. Not the tired chuckle heâd forced through difficult shifts. Not the dry sarcasm everyone at the hospital knew. A full, genuine laugh that reached his eyes. Langdon clapped dramatically from behind you.
âWellâŚâ He sniffed loudly. âThis is disgusting.â
Dana elbowed him.
âYouâve cried through the entire hearing.â
âI have allergies.â
âIn February?â
âVery aggressive allergies.â
Everyone laughed. Even the judge.
******
Outside, Pittsburgh greeted you with one of those perfect spring afternoons that made the city glow. Someone suggested lunch. Someone else suggested pictures. Jane decided sheâd rather scream at pigeons across the courthouse steps. You watched as Robby carry her, hands half-outstretched. Not because he thought heâd drop her, but because that was simply what fathers did.
She squealed with delight as birds scattered into the air. He laughed again. You stood there for a long moment, committing the image to memory.bA year ago, youâd sat on your living room floor believing your family might never grow. A year ago, Robby had walked through your front door carrying an exhausted little girl in an infant carrier after the hardest shift of his life. Neither of you had understood that hope sometimes arrived quietly.nNot with grand announcements. Not with certainty. Sometimes it arrived wrapped in a faded hospital blanket, sleeping peacefully through the chaos around her.
Robby turned back toward you, Jane balanced securely on his hip. She stretched one tiny arm toward you.
âMama!â
He smiled.
âThink sheâs looking for you.â
You walked over, slipping your hand into his. Jane immediately wrapped one tiny hand around your finger. The other closed around Robbyâs. Satisfied, she sighed dramatically.
âYesh.â
Robby chuckled.
âYes?â
She nodded with absolute conviction.
âYesh.â
You looked at your husband. At your daughter. At the little hand linking the two of you together. And for the first time in a very long time, the future didnât feel like something to mourn. It felt like something waiting patiently to be lived. The three of you started down the courthouse steps together.
Not because every question had been answered. Not because life would suddenly become easy. But because, after everything youâd lost, everything youâd feared, and everything youâd survivedâŚyou were finally going home.
summary: you put all your efforts during the holiday weekend trying to convince your husband that his three-month sabbatical doesnât have to end in the unspoken fatality he has been hinting at since it was announced. whilst robby puts all his efforts into pushing you away. (wc: 9.3k)
pairing: michael ârobbyâ robinavitch / f!reader
content: angst with a happy ending. fluffy parts. established relationship. wife!reader. an argument that happens the whole shift. s2 spoilers (the timeline of the show is jumbled for the plot) jealous!robby & jealous!reader? mean!robby. mental health struggles, hints to suicidal intentions, tension in a marriage, death and medical inaccuracies. beating a dead horse with this trope! 18+ suggestive content + smut (fingering and cunnilingusâf. receiving. minor breeding kink. robby is a little delayed in getting it up. unprotected p in v, dirty talk, light dom!robby & creampie)
Dana approaches you somewhere in the hour of 12PM. She looks at you over the rim of her glasses, all blonde strands of hair and each wrinkle in her forehead lined with concern for someone, more or less, adjacent to you. It makes you sink in your seat. You had been residing at the main workstation with three of the residents painfully assorting patient files since the CEO in his Fourth of July garb had made the announcement of preemptively shutting off all computer systems; leaving the ED without electronic health records, connected charting etc.Â
(You know, all the stuff that makes the department chug on like a semi-well-oiled machine.)Â
Being somewhat of a specialist in the art of expressions and the silence that comes with it, you were able to conclude that Dana Evansâthe guardian of the PTMCâwas not approaching you for a long-overdue chinwag.Â
Quite the opposite, actually.Â
âYou need to talk to him.â Dana commands in her usual gravel tone.Â
It makes you nervously scratch at your brow-bone. âI know. Iâm getting round to it. Just afterââÂ
âNow.â Dana interjects. She leans her whole body into the workstation, her voice drops down to barely a whisper, âHeâs acting up. Being a real Fourth of July spectacle. All this before he hops on that godforsaken motorcycle for three months. Youâve got the most Robby jargon out of all of us. Put it to use.âÂ
You let out a deep exhale. âFine.â
You stand at full height and Dana gives you a half smile that was a tamer version of amusement.
Things were not fine. In fact, things were so far out of the ballpark of fine, that you would never put Robby and the definition of âfineâ, or âokayâ or, overall just âgoodâ in one sentence. He was a man on the precipice of a life-altering decision that those around him would suffer the consequences that he had made; much longer after his three-month sabbatical on the road came to a screeching halt.Â
The signs had been there. Ever since you had begun at the PTMC as a fresh-faced attending with a basket full of naivety. It just took a couple of years for the signs to start catching up to you. And by then, your efforts to salvage the good pieces of Michael Robinavitch, had fallen through the cracks of a prepaid tombstone.Â
For the most part, colleagues would acknowledge the mental health problems that trickle down from behavioural changes from their peers, and then theyâd be able to go home without the additional weight of it upon their shoulders. No skin off of their noses if they werenât the ones paying for the extensive therapy sessions.Â
However, for you, that wasnât the case. Sinceâ
âHeâs your husband.â Dana calls after you.Â
You throw a hand up in retaliation, the sizeable rock on your ring finger catching the hazy overhead light. âThank you, Dana.âÂ
The reminder wasnât needed. Everyoneâincluding the one who married himâwas well aware that Dr. Michael Robinavtich had managed to be tied down. Motorcycle and all.
You had fallen in love prior to the catastrophic events from COVID, that had been the pipeline to Robby's mental health downfall. It had been exhilarating, and sometimes still was, at the beginning of the inner workings of a relationship that was blossoming beneath Gloria Underwoodâs watchful eye. All the sneaking around, keycards slid beneath clipboards, kissing on company time. The pair of you felt like giddy teenagers copping a feel.Â
He proposed to you within two years. Now, you were waltzing around the PTMC with a double barrel surname that was seemingly quite the tongue twister for those who took the time to read it. (This including Dennis Whitaker who went beet red when you had corrected his feeble attempt of reciting it back to you.)Â
You peer into Pedes to find him as predictedâcoddling Baby Jane Doe.
Robbyâs head turns as you speak, âHi,â you tilt your head and smile softly at the infant lazily dozing on your husbandâs shoulder. âHow is she doing?âÂ
âOh, just lonely.â he lilts.Â
You nod, smoothing a finger back and forth against her cheek, âShe likes you.âÂ
âWellâŚsheâd be the only one.â Robby mumbles as he places the infant back into the hospital cot. You smother the growing frown on your face when he straightens to full height. âYou need me for something?â he asks quietly.Â
I need you to come back to me.Â
You settle for, âJust making sure youâre okay. You knowâAfter how we left things this morning.â you say, deciding to take the brunt of whatever force you may be hit withâtaking Dana out of the collateral damage.Â
Things had been left on a sour note in the apartment you both shared in the downtown area of Pittsburgh. The looming presence of Robbyâs three-month sabbatical with his cognitive well-being balancing on the line of a fraying thread had made quite the topic of conversation over his black coffee and your nourishing choice of breakfast. Therapy was always at the centre of your tedious endeavours to ensure Robby came back to you in one piece during the early hours before work; and getting him to listen was no easy feat.Â
Your last ditch attempt to undertake your husbandâs reluctance to get help was thrown back at you beneath venom and animosity. It had almost given you whiplash. Robby escaped the confines of the apartment with a slam of the door after insisting that if you put more of your efforts into âminding your own businessâ, youâd be able to resolve whatever unearthed issues you had rolling about in your mindâsuch as your unrelenting desire to help those who donât want it.Â
The motorcycle ride without the helmet mustâve given his head a good shake, because when you entered the sliding doors of the PTMC; Robby began loitering around you enough to make it obvious he felt a little guilty on how he had left things.
(Never go to bed angry. Never hop on a death trap after searing your wife with the hot iron rod of your pent up anger. Or, something like that.)
Robby takes a deep inhale, thereâs a sort of playful glint in his eye as he speaks, âYou know, when you continue to ask someone if theyâre okay, it starts to get a little repetitive.âÂ
âMarriage is repetition.â you donât miss a beat, the lightheartedness that swoops the conversation feels a little foreign; considering the circumstances. âSue me for taking my vows seriously.âÂ
âHm.â Robby hums, the blue latex gloves snapping off his hands, âIs this a welfare check?âÂ
He shrouds your personal space for a moment. Not enough to seem intentional, but you knew his actions were the end result of your magnetic presenceâhence why he married you. You watch him cock his head in a roguishly handsome way, crows feet beside brown eyes exposed when he scrunches on eye shut. Michael Robinavitch was many things; but dense was not one.
His flirtations were consciously placed.Â
The room fills with the bustle from the central area of the ED when Robby pushes the door open, wedging it open with one foot to allow you to depart from Pedes. He looks down the slope of his nose at you, a faint smile catches at the corner of his lips when you size him up in passing.Â
âAre you open to one?â you bump your elbow into the softness of his stomach, habitually holding your hand beneath the sanitiser. It takes all your efforts to not look up at him.Â
You begin to walk together.Â
âUhâŚnope.âÂ
His answer takes a subtle jab at your heart. âThen consider it as me just being nosy about how youâre feeling.âÂ
âThatââ Robby halts you both, his fingers ghosting your elbow to allow a gurney to roll past. His eyes follow it as he continues, ââIs just a less fancier way of dressing this up as a welfare check. Have you seen Dana?âÂ
Sheâs the one that sent me, is what you want to say.Â
âSheâs talking with Emma.â you reply nonchalantly, âRobby, can you justâŚtalk to me? Please? Youâre deflecting.âÂ
âNo, Iâm running an Emergency Department.â Robby retorts, placing a hand on your back to keep you with him as he wades through the chaos of going analog. His eyes flit to you for a second and he softens at the melancholy you carry in your expression. âSweetheart, Iâm fine and sort of in the middle of something. Pin this conversation for later, okay?âÂ
âSure.â you murmur when he walks away. Dana takes up the rear-end of the conversation, slotting herself shoulder to shoulder with youâan iPad balancing in the crook of her elbow. You donât look at her when you say, âThat went well.âÂ
âPlenty of time, honey.â Dana grits, patting your back, âYouâll get through to him. As for now, Iâve got a case in South 15. Right up your alley. Lookinâ real pretty for a distraction, hm? Come on.âÂ
Robby is distracted when he returns to the central hub. The patient chart is a mere prop in his hands. The information untouched by his plethora of clinical knowledge, because all he can hear is you laughing at something that the handsome RadiologistâDr. Barkerâhas said. It hadnât bothered him when his staff members, Princess and Javadi, had been stood gawping at the man from afar. Was it a little inconvenient considering the circumstances the ED were squashed under? Yes.
Until it became a hinderance to their performance; it wasnât his problem.Â
As for youâŚit was different.Â
There was no overt behaviour that would lead anyone to believe that you were doing anything but being friendly until the wet reads came through for your patient in South 15. At an arms length from the guy, but still conversing in a way that shows off two of Robbyâs favourite things about you: your genuine toothy-grin and the nose scrunch do when you find something funny.Â
When Dana throws him a look in passing, he reverts back to the patient chart. Then your laughter carries across the room a minute after, and Robby decides thatâs enough time spent with the pretty boy from upstairs that has set up camp in the middle of the ED.
He idles up next to you with all the curiosity of a Chief Attending and not a husband that reeks of jealous intrigue.Â
(Professional before personal. The walls of the PTMC were a shield to the outside noise.)Â
âDr. Robby.â Barker greets.Â
You turn your head to see Robby practically flush with your back. âOhâHi.â
âDr. Barker.â Robby glances at you from his peripheral and chooses to ignore the mild perplexity that sits in the crease between your brows. His hands clutch his elbows when he crosses his arms across his chest, head tilting at the Radiologist. âHow long on this patientâs imaging?âÂ
âAnother fifteen minutes. Tops.â Barker answers after checking the process.Â
âThen I assume you can circle back on the jokes in fifteen minutes.â your head whips to glare at the Chief Attending-gone-rogue on being tactful around his professional peers, âCatalogue of patients on that whiteboard. They wonât treat themselves.â he chides.Â
You give Dr. Barker an apologetic look and walk by Robby who follows like a dog on a leash. Once the Radiologist is out of ear shot, you speak freely, âAre you seriously time-keeping my conversations?âÂ
âNo.â Robby drawls, âJust making sure one of my best Attending still has her head in the game.âÂ
âThatâs rich.â you scoff with minimal malice, âDr. Barker is a good guy. The way you spoke to him back thereââÂ
Robby interjects. âHo-ho, sounds like you like him.â
âI do.â
âMore than me?â he angles his body into yours to make room for an oncoming nurse. (He doesnât miss the small but wicked smile on your face.)Â
You mull it over when you reach the board. âOnly time will tell. Youâre still on probation from your morning tantrum.âÂ
Robby lets out a rare cackle that spreads the amusement across his weathered features and you beam up at the sight of his crows feet making an appearance under the circumstances of lighthearted humour. The palm of his hand rubs the span of your back as you stare at the whiteboard, making it a sight to behold for the forthcoming med students.Â
âIâUh,â Robby starts, removing his glasses and scratching the skin behind his ear, âI want to apologise for how this morning went.âÂ
âMhm.â you only look at him when you feel his eyes bore into your side-profile, âI forgive you. Doesnât mean Iâm not allowed to be mad at you, Robinavitch.â you remark setting the base layer tone as nothing short of sarcastic.Â
Robby inhales and speaks on the exhale, his voice only just audible to you, âWouldâŚa five minute break in an on-call room make up for any of it?âÂ
He looks hopeful.
You pray he shares the same sentiment on his three-month sabbatical. Unlikely, but negativity didnât pay the bills.Â
The insinuation is clearer than glass. On-call rooms were meant for a sole purpose of providing the staff at the PTMC a safe space to rest in privacy. It required a keycard to gain access to.Â
It was also the same space that Robby and you took advantage of for displays of affection that were crossing the boundaries classified in the Human Resources pamphlet you were both given on how to navigate an appropriate workplace relationship; and the power imbalances that could come with it.Â
Gloria Underwood would turn in her ivory white tower if she knew what the pair of you got up to behind that particular closed door on the company dime.Â
Robbyâs offer was tempting. His handsome face and optimistic eyes were even more.Â
âIâm happy where I am.â you advise him, without sounding too pained at the sacrifice.Â
Robby surrenders. âHappy wife, happy life.â he states with his hands up, then deciding to give Ogilvie and Joy a show by pulling you in by your shoulder and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. It was the least he could do, if the on-call room was off the menu. âShout if you need me.âÂ
âShout.â you whisper when he trails off, leaving you with the ambient hospital noises. (And, Joy and Ogilvie.) You point at them, âYou two. With me.âÂ
Eventually you return to the middle of the Pitt, swiping two patients off of the white board with two fingersâtoo lazy to find the eraser. You werenât sure what part had soured your mood. Either from the med-student Ogilvieâs unwavering need to put his foot in his mouth in front of patients and plummet those all important patient satisfaction scores, Louieâs passing, the foreboding presence of your husbandâs three-month sabbatical; or catching the loose ends of Noelle Hastings and Robbyâs conversation.Â
He catches sight of you in passingâyour face providing nothing but the word: hypocriteâwhilst he absentmindedly bobs his head along to Hastings sugary rambling over McKayâs patient case. His forehead creases as she speaks, scratching at the nape of his neck nervously. Robbyâs eyes flit over to you in the hopes that just this once, you may be a figment of his own imagination.Â
Despite jealously being relatively beneath you in your marriage to one of the PTMCâs eligible bachelors, without being too presumptuous, Robby feared that seeing him converse with his non-committal ex, may be the cherry on the cake for how your day was going.
(Hastings always had a habit of lingering. Which made it look even worse.)Â
Perlah comes up beside you, patient charts in abundance in her grasp.Â
âNot bothering you?â she asks with a subtle jerk of her head in Robby and Noelleâs direction.
You shuffle through some results, âGive it a couple of minutes.â you murmur.Â
Perlah lets out a laugh that catches both Noelle and Robbyâs attention nearby. Their heads turn at the abrupt sound, which in turn breaks up their train of thought over the long winded discussion. Noelle squeezes Robbyâs bicep before they go their separate ways, and suddenly your patientâs results need to be read millimetres from your face; when Noelle strolls into the workstation with a content expression on her pretty face.Â
âYou did that on purpose.â you whisper to Perlah behind your clipboard.
Perlah shrugs innocently and departs to ask Robby for a second-opinion.Â
The case manager perches at the edge of the workstation you happen to sit at, happily tapping at the surface of the workstation.
The thing about Noelle Hastings was, that she was neither a friend nor a foe to you. She was simply an extension of Robbyâs history of avoidant attachment that extended the length of seven-weeks. There was zero animosity toward her as some would anticipate you to have. She was kind, assisted you in insurance cases on the best outcome for the patient and even when she stepped over the invisible boundary that separated a fleeting situation from a marriage, with nostalgic remarks over her shared time with Robby; Noelle Hastings well-manicured nails were always far from digging into your husband.Â
She was aware of this. Respectful. Part of you assumes she was trying to find a middle ground to bond over with you. Understandably, it could get a little awkward when your previous sexual endeavoursâ wife is waltzing around the workplace.Â
Even more awkward when she catches herself going all gooey whenever she was within close proximity to his charm. (Worked on her for years. It wasnât going to stop now. Even if it wasnât intentional on his part.)Â
She speaks in the direction of Dana, âYou know what Motorcycle Mikeâs sabbatical is really about?âÂ
Dana remains unbothered, âI never try to guess whatâs going on in that head of his.âÂ
You shift in your seat, and it highlights yourself to Noelle.Â
âYouâre not going with him?â Noelle tosses the net with a polite smile and youâre suddenly pulled into the conversation, no longer a bystander pretending to be busy.Â
âUh, no.â you shift, rubbing the palms of your hands against your thighs.
Dana also responds, âYou kiddinâ? Weâd go cuckoo bananas if we lost her to a three-month sabbatical too.â she peers over the brim of her glasses at Noelle, âBehind every great man, is a greater woman.â she proclaims.Â
âI donât doubt it.â Noelle laughs. Thereâs a thought that churns over in her head and youâre left surrendering yourself to yet another boundary crossed when she decides to vocalise it. âItâs justâŚThatâd drive me crazy. You know? Him being off the radar for three whole months. The man couldnât sleep without the TV on in the bedroom. How is he going to survive all that silence?â
You take the comment in your stride, shutting the monitor off and standing. Dana throws you an empathetic look as a woman has been in the game for thirty years. Someone like that learns to become observational when being patient-facing means the little expressions matter.
And with the rise and fall of your chest; Dana can come to the conclusion that youâre upset by Hastings throwaway comment.Â
So, she defends where you wonât.Â
âLittle respect, Hastings.â Dana is casual in her directness. She glances at the pretty woman, âIt goes a long way.âÂ
Noelle looks mortified. âOhâNo. Iâm sorry. I overstepped.âÂ
âItâs fine.â you reassure her, gulping at the tightness in your throat, âYou made an observation that has stood the test of time. Robby is a big boy. Three months to reflect, alone, is healthy. TV on or not.âÂ
Now, youâre irritated.Â
Itâs enough for the conversation to not chase you when you depart the workstationâDana left to lowly chuckle in amusement at the underlying sharpness in your tone. You weave through bodies on autopilot, ears ringing from the seed of doubt planted by Hastings over Robbyâs time away. It made you think that perhaps you had been too enthusiastic over the idea of a three-month sabbatical with little to no contact with a man on the brink of catastrophe. Too laidback in putting the power in the hands of his mind that had nothing but malicious intent over his body.Â
It had sounded like a good idea at the time. Neither you or Robby could recall an official vacation that he had partaken inâaside from your honeymoon. Now? You werenât so sure.
Everyone else had told you otherwise ever since it had been announced.Â
âEverything okay?â by some hideous trick of fate, Robby matches the strides in the walk you were taking around the parameters of the department.
He had spotted you from the window of South 22 and excused himself with the reassurance from Dr. Al-Hashimi that she could hold down the fort. Being married to you came with unlimited perks, one being that Robby was able pinpoint your tells that signalled a combative mood. Not necessary toward him; but the idea wouldnât be so far fetched.Â
(It was all in the downturn of your lips. And the tightness in your jawline.)Â
âYou tell me. Does having to listen to your ex question my decision to not saddle up on a three-month sabbatical with my flight risk husband, whilst also sorely reminding me that she also knows you leave the TV on through the night, make a good case for everything to be going okay?â you quip, narrowly avoiding Ahmedâs call to the betting pool.Â
Robby blows out hot air. âCouldâve said devoted husband.â he jokes. It crashes and burns when you spare him a stern glance. âOkay. How about we take in some fresh air in the Ambulance Bay?âÂ
âLead the way.âÂ
It doesnât take much further and the summer air of Pittsburgh clings to your bodies in all the wrong places. It preemptively sets the tone as you scuff your feet against the ground, arms tightly bound across your chest in an effort to translate your hardened exterior from the events of the day.Â
Honestly, it felt close to dogpiling once Hastings becameâunintentionallyâinvolved.Â
Robby takes in the scenes of the empty Ambulance Bay, his eyes find his beloved motorcycle still in tact at the side of the building. He takes a step forward in order to block it from your line of vision.Â
After a moment, an arm wraps around your shoulder and youâre suddenly curled into your husbandâs side. His lips find your temple and they stay pressed against your skin to resolve some of the bad feelings running about in your chest.Â
You close your eyes as Robby repetitively presses chaste kisses to the same spot, relishing in the physical affection that you will be deprived off for three months. Or further; depending on how far Michael Robinavitch was willing to go.Â
The thought alone makes you recoil out of his touch.Â
Robbyâs brows quirk in confusion. âToo hot?â he asks naively. Unprepared.Â
âWeââ you sigh, ââWe need to continue the conversation from this morning.âÂ
âNoâŚwe donât.â Robby informs, his expression still unwavering in adoration, âItâs water under the bridge. I apologised.âÂ
âIâm talking about the part where you accept the therapy sessions on this sabbatical.â you start, feeling the prompt shift in the atmosphere, âJack has given me all the information for his therapistââÂ
âSweetheart. I am begging you not to start this shit again.â Robby has the palms of his hands flush against each other in a begging motion thatâs sent in your direction. âI donât need a therapist on this trip.âÂ
âThrow me a bone here, Robby.â you exasperate, âYouâre obviously not well. Is it really so bad that Iâm making sure I get you back by the end of this?â you feel your patience chip, the skin of your neck prickling with frustration.
Robby chuckles. âOh, youâll get me back. Iâll make sure of it.â
The morbidity of his answer makes you pause.Â
You blink at him, âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?âÂ
âIt meansâŚstop telling me how to feel.â Robby narrows his eyes, throwing a sarcastic smile your way.Â
âThen what are you feeling, Robby?â you snap at him, the humid summer air clinging to your skin.Â
He chuckles lowly, âI really donât need you to be my shrink.âÂ
You shake your head, âThis isnât what a shrink does. You would know that if you just see one for two days of the week whilst youâre away. Jackâs therapist does virtual appointmentsââÂ
âI already gave you my answer to that.âÂ
âHoly shit.â you clench your fists and tap them against your forehead to relieve your frustrations, âIâm not asking you to lobotomise yourself on this sabbatical, Robby. Itâs fucking therapy.â Â
Robby sneers, âNo? Thisââ he gestures to the space between you in circles, ââfeels an awful lot like a lobotomy. Cut it out.âÂ
âCut it out?â you repeat, âIâm not a child.âÂ
âAre you sure about that, sweetheart?â Robby crosses his arms, the argument was beginning to feel like being inside a pressure cooker, âYouâre upset over this morning. Over the sabbatical, clearly over whatever bullshit Hastings said to you. About Louie. You canât regulate your own emotions at work and you have the nerve to tell me I need fucking help? That is fucking hypocrisy.âÂ
âOh, quit projecting.â you look around for a minute to take a break from the intense stare down.Â
âWhyâŚare you doing this right now?âÂ
You watch Robby rub at his temples. âWhy? Because youâre lashing out. Youâve been doing it to Mohan, Dana and Al-Hashimi all fucking day. Youâre upset that Langdon is back and youâre punishing him for your own feeling of failure.âÂ
âMohan is tough love.â Robby cherrypicks.Â
âCut the shit, Robby. Youâve been wearing her down and you know it.â you gesture to the ED just beyond the sliding doors, âShe had a panic attack and you belittled her over the same shit you did last year in Pedes!â
Robby shakes his head in disbelief, âYouâre really bringing that up right now?âÂ
âYes. I am.â you retort plainly, âRobby. Canât you see this is all happening because I love you?â you collect your voice beneath a whisper when an EMT strolls by you.Â
Robby waits until they vacate the premises to speak as he drags his fingers along creases in his forehead. âYeah. I do. And, right nowâŚI need you to love me less.â he conveys cruelly.Â
Your worry ebbs into hurt. Fingers curling tight enough that your nails are pressing crescent moons into the palm of your hands. His words lay flat against your chest like wet cement. Any further rebuttals you had lined up dissipate and youâre left with a blank slate, jaw slack as you try to make sense of it all.Â
The Ambulance Bay plunges into icy waters. Robby nervously drags his thumbnail across the top of his brow bone as he cranes his neck to look inside the building. It wasnât evident to you at the time, but his inner turmoil flares at the sight of your broken expression.Â
Even when you gather yourself up with watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip, Robby does nothing. He allows you the action of brushing past him to escape the jaws of his verbal brutality, throwing yourself back into the chaos of a holiday weekend.Â
Heâs left with the whir of ambulances in the distance.
Robby watches you leave, mumbling a âshitâ under his breath. He drops his head back to take in the humid air through his nostrils; the brief solitude condemned when Baran Al-Hashimi appears.Â
âRobby?â Baran calls from the doors, offering a hesitant smile, âPerlah has notified me that Ms. Kovalenkoâthe burn patientâis ready to be seen again.âÂ
Robby swings his hands around his body, releasing the tension by smacking his palm against his other hand that was curled up into a fist. He strains a smile, âIâll be right there.âÂ
Robby takes a shot at a breath to exhale any leftover poison on his tongue from your spatâbeing wise to the fact that patient satisfaction scores would increase without personal baggage. The dispenser spits the sanitiser into his hand and he chooses to open the door with his back; checking for any sign of you amongst the sea of people marching about.Â
The pit in his stomach grows when he can spot you in the middle discussing a case with McKay. Your back is turned, but Robby has been with you long enough to see the tension taught across your shoulder blades from the deep laceration he had caused by projecting his frustrations for a second time that day.Â
He takes a mental note to make amends by any means possible. And promptly too.Â
He enters the room with one last look at you. âHello. Howâs it going in here?âÂ
âWe were just discussing your wife.â Perlah informs with a friendly smile, fingers busy with the task at hand. When Robby looks inquisitive about how the topic turned to you in his absence, Perlah adds, âShe just came to find me for a patient. Said hello. Ms. Kovalenko was curious about the double-barrel surname on her badge. It got us talking. All good things.âÂ
Robby hums warmly. âA conversation Iâm always happy to partake in.â he perches himself on the nearby stoolâboth Perlah and Ms. Kovalenko watching as he fixes his posture.
âBeautiful.â Ms. Kovalenko states.Â
âVery.â Robby concurs earnestlyâhe wants to say that you are the eighth wonder of the world.Â
(The argument puts that sort of compliment on hold for the time being.)Â
âToo good for you.â The red-haired woman quips.Â
âOoh. Iâll have to agree there too.â he lilts, the pang of guilt smothered behind a professional glaze. He pats the tops of his thighs, âDid I miss all the gross stuff?âÂ
âTimed it perfectly.â Perlah replies.Â
âExcellent. My job is all about delegation and time management.â Robby chides with a brave face; hoping his emotions werenât too raw on his face over the mention of you.Â
Perlah and him get into a lighthearted back and forth over his imminent departure at the end of the twelve-hour shift, which piques Ms. Kovalenkoâs interest over the finer details.Â
âHeâs leaving us for three-months. On a motorcycle.â Perlah shifts in her chair, happy to invite Ms. Kovalenko further behind closed doors.Â
Kovalenkoâs brows raise to her hairline. âMotorcyle? Youâre joking.â she whips her head round to stare at Robby, âWhy would you do this?â she asks sternly.Â
âWhy? Why? BecauseâŚuhââÂ
âYouâre a middle aged man. Donât be stupid.â she spits back, âWhat about your wife? Is she happy about this decision?âÂ
âShe isâŚmoderately humble about it.â Robby rolls closer to the sharp-tongued patient, narrowly averting his gaze to the injury concealed beneath a thin cloth.Â
âModerately humble.â Kovalenko repeats sardonically with a few nods of her head. âForgive me for being blunt but, do you think that is the equivalent to being happy, Dr. Robinavitch? I pity your wife. Very sad.âÂ
Robby hangs his head and huffs out a laugh, âWe cannot stop the world from spinning just because one person doesnât like the way it goes round, Ms. KovalenkoâHow about we focus on your care?â
Thereâs a significant pause.Â
âUs women are what make the world go round,â her lips quirk in satisfaction when Robbyâs brown eyes drift from her burn site, âWouldnât you agree, Dr. Robinavitch?â
Once the elderly, fiery-haired patient with a nasty burn on her thigh is discharged from Robbyâs careânot without a stern lecture and some wonderful insight about his lack of appreciation for women in generalâitâs evident that all signs are pointing to resolving the conflict that had transpired between you two.Â
If there was one person Robby was not willing to part with on a sour note for three whole monthsâŚit was you.Â
The better half of him. The center of his gravity. The only person strong enough to flip the heavy hourglass in time before he drains himself entirely.
Also, the woman that was apparently hard to track down in a department he knew like the back of his hand.Â
(He worries you left. But that wasnât in your nature. Hurt feelings or not.)Â
âWhereââ he pauses, ââis my Attending?â Robby checks the surrounding areas as he speaks directly to Dana who was standing at the workstation with Monica Petersâthe Pittâs once renowned cynical clerk until things went south over technology.Â
Dana lets out an amused scoff, looking down at the clipboard pressed against her stomach; strands of blonde hair loose around her face.
âSheâs been demoted to just Attending? Whatâd she do?â she quips in her usual tone that has Robby flaring his nostrils, âSheâs writing up the death note for Javadi. McKayâs cancer patientâRoxieâshe passed away.âÂ
Robby frowns, âWhereâs McKay?â
âMIA.â Dana drawls, now fiddling with the prescribed box of nicotine gum, âShe seemed pretty upset coming from the Ambulance Bay. Anything you want to tell me?âÂ
âItâs been a long day.â he calls flippantly, already parting through the sea of pandemonium.Â
He puts the plethora of questions about McKayâs whereabouts on the back burner for the time being.Â
Dana raises her voice over the hospital buzz, âMake amends, Cap.âÂ
He gives the charge nurse a two-finger salute.Â
For once, he makes it to his destination uninterrupted by an emergency that requires his presence in the trauma room. The door to the room that had been dimly lit aside from the salt lamp glow, clicks open as Robby arrives; finding you slipping out the gap and closing the door quietly behind you.Â
You havenât seen him yet.Â
For observational purposes, the Chief Attending watches you press your forehead against the cool glass of the narrow window of the door. His stomach sinks when he can see your shoulders shudder as you take a deep breath to fill your lungs with air that kept evading you.Â
He doesnât feel like thereâs ever going to be an appropriate time to speak to you in order to rescind his previous declarations. Even more so now, as you conceal the notion of silently weeping in the middle of the ED.Â
âYou need a coffee?â Robbyâs voice makes you jolt. For once, he shrinks in confidence under your unsteady gaze. His tired eyes take in the vision of your watery ones and his expression melts into tenderised sympathy. He nods, âCome on.â
The staff room is empty when you enter, aside from the manikin that Nurse Jesse took great pleasure in decorating, before he was wrongfully detained by ICE agents for intervening with patient care at the core of his interestsâjust another reason to confirm that the holiday weekend had been nothing short of twenty car pile-up that you were being forced to look at.Â
The box of donuts from upstairs is empty, the clock above is ticking closed to the end of the day shift; even when the job wasnât truthfully done at the stroke of 7PM. You take the seat closest to the wall, muscles sighing from the imminent relief of pressure.Â
Robby stands at the coffee machineâif you can even call it that. It sputters a watery version of coffee into a styrofoam cup, and he dumps two packets of sugar into the liquid in order to salvage some sweetness amidst the bitter tone of the room.Â
He slides the cup over to you and fishes a protein bar from his pocket, patting it to emphasise the notion that dinner had been served.Â
Your stubbornness prevails as you push the bar away from you, despite having not eaten for almost seven hours.Â
Robby sighs at that. The refusal doesnât surprise him. You were always prone to a petty hunger strike when it came to Robby providing you with food to nourish your body after an argument. It was sort of his way to build up to an apology.Â
He drags the spare seat across the flooring and plants it in front of you.
The fabric of your scrubs brush against his when his knees bumps yours as he sits. The close proximity invites his scent into your bubble, the undertones of his aftershave prominent enough for you to recognise the fragrance as the one he wore on your wedding day.Â
Robby rests his elbows on the tops of his thighs as he lean into your space.
As the words form on his lips into a coherent icebreaker that he was easing into, the door to the staff room whips open to reveal Trinity Santos.Â
You look up at her. Robby doesnât.Â
âI need an Attending.âÂ
Robby answers for the both of you.Â
âGo find Dr. Al-Hashimi.â he sings.Â
Santos mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes as she shuts the door behind her. You give Robby a certain lookâone heâs been given beforeâthat tells him you werenât in favour of brushing off the RS2 in favour of squashing the hostility that he brought upon the both of you.Â
He gives you a meek but crooked smile. Crows feet prominent as he tries to warm the atmosphere.Â
âI need youâŚto understand something here.â Robby starts, his hands falling to the sides of your kneecaps. He can barely look at you when he talks, âIf I donât go on this sabbatical, I am not so sure itâll stop me fromâŚâ he trails off.Â
The room falls silent.Â
He can barely say it himself because verbalising it would make that little more of a tangible thing.Â
You canât conjure up the fight to protest; so you hang your head.Â
âWhat upset you about Roxieâs case?â Robby takes a different approach. He tilts his head like a curious dog when you look back up from your lap.Â
You mull it over. âDo you ever stand in a room with a wife and a husband, one of them is dying in front of the otherâs eyes.  And they just have to watch it happen at their bedside?âÂ
Robby gives a curt nod.Â
âDo you ever put yourself in their shoes, Robby?â you question, âHow that would feel? To have the most meaningful part of you slip through your fingers and you donât have the control to stop it. Thisââ gesture with your finger between your bodies, ââIs how that feels for me.âÂ
âYeahââ
âNo.â you shake your head, âYou donât get to sit there and tell me you know how it feels from my perspective. I love you in ways that you arenât reciprocating. You know why?âÂ
âWhy?â Robby whispers.Â
You continue, âBecause, if we loved each other equally, there wouldnât be a shadow of a doubt to get the help that you fucking need.â your voice trembles, âI cannot keep pushing through this fog around you, Robby.âÂ
âI know.â Robbyâs expression melts. Brown eyes softer than ever. âI know.âÂ
âThen get help. Please.âÂ
Robby cups the back of your head when tears begin to shed from your eyes. âOkay, okay. Iâll do it.â he presses his lips to your forehead, âIâll do it. Iâm sorry.âÂ
The moment is held sacred against your hearts. Thereâs a particular weight that lifts off of your shoulders when Robby gives in, but even thenâŚyour heart was still heavy from the outcome of your previous argument in the Ambulance Bay.Â
Maybe three months apart would mend those open wounds. (Absence made the heart grow fonder. Apparently.)Â
Robby finally pulls back with a pained expression on his face; as he memorises your features close-up. âWhat I said beforeâI didnât mean it. Iâm not sure how Iâd do in life if I didnât have you up my ass about everything.âÂ
âI hear Montana has a lot of fresh oxygen. You can use all of that up with consistent apologies during your sabbatical.â you grouse, wiping at the wetness that Robby misses when he drags his thumb across your cheekboneâridding you of a lash that had latched onto your skin. âYou know, people divorce for less.â you say.Â
Genuine laughter ripples from Robbyâs chest, the moment of reconciliation solidified in your acerbic intonation. (Part of him wonders how many lives he has left before the reality of divorce comes to life.)Â
Instead of answering back, Robby forgoes professional protocol by pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. It takes a few swallows to dislodge the lump in his throat, smothering his own upset when you pull away to meet his gaze. Â
The door opens for a second time.Â
Dana holds onto the handle, staring at the scenes before her over the rim of her glasses. âWould you look at that. Itâs a Fourth of July miracle. Can this wrap up so we can do rounds and get the hell out of this godforsaken place? Two more minutes, lovebirds.â
Robby stands at the foot of the bed. Itâs well after midnight and whilst you have shed into the comforts of your sleepwear, Robby is clad in a thick Carhartt jacket and dark jeans with his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. He is looking like the epitome of a reckless motorcyclist about to venture on the open road after a gruelling twelveâand some additional hoursâshift at the Emergency Department.
You are sat with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Ready to bid your husband goodbye; praying itâs rather a âsee you soonâ sort of farewell.
His confirmation in the Staff Room didnât sit all that well in your stomach.Â
âYou have got everything?â you ask, twiddling with the hem of his jacket, âWallet? Phone? Cash? The list of phone numbers I wrote down for you?â Robby nods along as you list it off, âToothbrush? Phone charger? The little First Aid Kit I bought?âÂ
âCheck.â Robby affirms.Â
Thereâs an unfamiliar feeling rolling about in the air of your bedroom. Robby and you had rarely spent time apartâas unhealthy as it may sound to other couples, it just works for you. Nothing more than a week, when you decided to take a well-earned break from the seventh layer of hell named the Pitt.Â
Three months would feel like a lifetime.Â
You sigh deeply, âCall me. Or text me when you arrive at the first hotel. I love you. Kind of.âÂ
âI love you too, sweetheart.â Robby leans down to kiss you sweetly. His hand captures your jawline to deepen the kiss to gratify his needs. He barely pulls back to look at you, âIâll miss you.âÂ
âIâd hope so.â you kiss him again. Your hands rest against the broad-line of his shoulders, whilst his free hand clutches your back to press your body into him. You whisper against his feverish kiss, âYouâre running late to get on the road.âÂ
âIâve got time.â Robby answers back.Â
The change in pace happens abruptly. One minute youâre exchanging a bittersweet goodbye, and the next, your t-shirt has been yanked over your head, leaving your chest exposed; nipples hardening from the cool air.Â
Robby bends to capture a nipple into his mouth, his beard creating a sweet fiction alongside his tongue swiping at your bud. He groans against your tit, and you take the opportunity to slide his bag from his shoulderâhis jacket coming off quickly after.Â
Once he pays attention to your neglected nipple by repeating the same actions, he pulls back with his hair sticking up in all directions as a result of you tugging at it.Â
His pupils are blown wide.Â
âYou want me to take care of you before I leave, hm?â Robby asks, his tone dripping in saccharine.
You nod, breathless.Â
He dips his head to press wet kisses down your navel whilst you instinctively lift your hips when his fingers hook at the sides of your flimsy excuse for underwear; which he stuffs into the back pocket of his jeans for later. The air thickens, the silence filling with lewd groans from Robbyâs mouth as he lifts and parts your thighs, pressing them up to your chest to expose your slick core.Â
His callus palms smooth across the length of the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps in his wake. Brown eyes drift from your aching pussy, up to your face to observe your reaction when he drags two fingers from your seeping hole and upward to your sensitive clit.Â
You jolt and whimper from the sensation and Robby clicks his tongue, shushing you as he repeats the same action.Â
Once he gathers enough of your juices on his two fingers, he applies pressure to your clit and begins to rubbing in slow circles. You whine, legs making effort to drop down to relieve the pressure; only for Robbyâs free hand to pin them against your chest again.Â
âRobbyâŚâ you manage to say.Â
Robby cocks his head to the side to watch your hole clench around empty air. âThat feel good?âÂ
Your brows pinch with your eyes fluttering shut. Instead of answering his question, you bring a hand to bite down onâwhich Robby promptly swats away.Â
âTalk to me, sweetheart. Let me know.âÂ
You nod, âUh-huh.âÂ
âGood. Fuck, look at you.â Robby drags his fingers down to your hole and eases them in with little resistance. He groans when your walls clench tightly around his digits, âHow can I leave this?âÂ
Unable to respond again, your hips tilt when Robby curls his fingers upward into you, enough to make your jaw clench. He presses his thumb-pad against your clit, rubbing at a pace that heâs well aware that you appreciate.Â
Long-term commitment does wonders to mapping out the hot spots of your anatomy.Â
The room fills with a schlicking sound with Robby pumping his fingers in and out of you at a gentle pace.Â
âIâve got you.â Robby mumbles, jaw slack at the sight of you arching your back off of the mattress. He takes his free hand that had your legs pinned and applies weight to your lower stomach, picking up the pace with his fingers. âOoh. There it is.â he says as your walls fit snug against his fingers.
âIâmâFuck.â you whinge, spots lining your vision. âRobby, please.âÂ
Robby bobs his head a handful of times, arm beginning to ache from the relentless back and forth motion. His restraint is minimal, quick to shift himself halfway off the bed so his eyes are level with your swollen lips. Youâre soaked. He can see at the base of his fingers collects your cream, which allows his thought process is thrown out the window.Â
Suddenly, Robby has all the time in the world before he has to leave.
When his mouths latches onto your clit, thatâs when things become a little more desperate. His moans vibrate against you, sending you squirming; stomach tensing as he sucks at your swollen nervesâif anything, he wants to leave a lasting impression upon his departure.Â
Robby swaps between kitten licks and suckling at your clitâhis tongue occasionally dipping to taste the closeness at your hole. His thick fingers work at your insides. Eyes flit up to see your mouth open, bare chest panting from the coil in your stomach on the precipice of snapping.Â
It is Robbyâs favourite things; watching you come undone.Â
His own hips find friction against the mattress as you let out a guttural moan from the back of your throat, body curling into the orgasm that your husband pulls from you.Â
You push at Robbyâs head when he sucks at your clit out of greed. Too sensitive, you slump into the mattress with the palm of your hand lying flat against your forehead.Â
Robby straightens up at the end of the bed with a smug smile, eyes twinkling. âYou okay?âÂ
You wordlessly give him a thumbs up, whining when he pulls his two fingers from your vagina.
After a minute, you rest on your elbows to watch your husband fiddle with his belt. âLet me help.â you advise, moving onto your knees to assist him.Â
Youâre brought into a bruising kiss as you tug the belt from the belt loops, tossing it to the ground with a âthunk.â Itâs light workâremoving Robbyâs jeans and boxers in one swoopâas you had been in this very position several times throughout your relationship; able to visualise the steps in which Robby matches your nudity.Â
As you look down, Robby huffs, âGive it a second, sweetheart.â
His cock still semi-soft, he wraps a hand around the hardened base and gives himself a few pumps so the rest of his shaft could catch up.Â
He sheepishly chuckles, âIf I was a few years youngerââÂ
âI donât care.â you kiss him to halt the self-deprecation, âMeans I get to steal more time off of your sabbatical.âÂ
It had always been an explanation during sex. The first time it had happened, Robby insisted his level of attractions toward you hadnât depleted, rather it was just his age showing at the worst possible timeâsomething heâd take more gray hairs and wrinkles over any day.Â
Never stunting his performance, nor was it a deal breaking factor for you, every time since Robbyâs delay in stiffening; you had to remind him there was nothing wrong with it.Â
Slow and steady wins the race.Â
You lick your lips, watching Robby work his shaft in his hand, his wedding band catching the warmth of the salt lamp at your bedside. He lifts his free hand whilst you watch, the two fingers that had been deep inside you now edging their way into your mouth.Â
His fingers leave your mouth with a faint âpopâ and it seems to do the trick as Robbyâs tip is flushed red, his slit beginning to bead with precum.
You lower yourself back down onto the mattress with Robby following you. His callus palms come to the plushness of your hips, and he turns you over so your front is lying flush against the tousled sheets.
He dips to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before hiking your hips upward so you are resting on all fours.
Robby hums as he drags his cock through your wetness, âIâm going to miss you.â Â Â
Your fingers curl into the cotton sheets, goosebumps trailing up the length of your spine. Robby kisses your back again, the tip of his cock nudging at your hole. He gives you both a minute before sinking himself in inch by inch; his lips pressing to your skin to smother the groan eliciting from his throat.Â
Thereâs no rush in his movement. Thereâs around thirty seconds of adjusting before he sinks further into your pussy, his head dropping back when he is to the hilt.Â
Robby stays in your warmth without moving for a minute.Â
After a minute or so, his hips begin to shift, the softest part of his stomach pressing to your ass when he buries himself deep. Stabilising himself by grasping onto your ass cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh; Robbyâs brows furrow from the searing pleasure as he looks down to see his shaft already coated in your arousal.Â
You hang your head, letting out a whimper from feeling so full.Â
âJesusâYou feel good.â Robby grits behind you. He watches your back muscles tense when he slides his cock out slowly, âAre you going to miss this, baby?âÂ
You canât answer. The tip of Robbyâs cock plunges into a spongy part, and your vision is lined with white spots.Â
Robby gives you a second and repeats the motion until his desire to hear you reaffirm his question takes over. He frees a hand from grappling at your backside, his fingers curling around your throat to tilt your head back to look him in the eye.Â
âTell me.âÂ
You almost cry, âYesâfuckâyes, Iâll miss this.âÂ
âUh-huh.â Robby grins, âYou will.âÂ
The hand being used to force eye contact is removed and you whine when Robby fully pulls out of you. He flips you back over onto your back with ease, folding your legs up to your chest again before sinking back into you without warning.Â
Your back arches as much as it can from being pinned; Robby dips to smother it with a sloppy kiss.Â
Your hands curl around his neck, whimpering when you feel him pulse inside you. Well aware that it wasnât going to last long.Â
His thrusts are shallow and restricted to contain his own climax for a little while longer. The tip of his cock brushes against a sensitive part, and heâs left breathlessly chuckling when you tighten yourself around him.Â
âYouâll make me cum doing that.â Robby lifts his head, eyes squeezing shut. He drags himself out of you until the tip of his cock is at your opening. You clench to suck the majority of his shaft back in. âShit baby. Fuck it. Keep squeezing me like that. Just like that.âÂ
âFuck, Robby.â is all you can muster, hands clawing at his back when he picks up his pace.Â
Robby folds your legs back up to your chest for a third time that night. His thumb catches your clitâunsure if he can drag another orgasm out of you with little recovery time. âLet me fuck you right there. You feel it? Youâre so fucking tight.âÂ
âRobbyââ you babble.
âHm? What is it, sweetheart?â Robby pants, the slapping sounds echoing in the room.Â
You free your legs from his grasp and wrap them around his middle. âI wantâI need you to cum inside me.âÂ
âFuck. Donât say shit like that.â Robby laughs, his pace faltering. He looks at your expression and realises youâre being serious. âIs that what you want? For me to cum inside you? What if you get pregnant?âÂ
âI donât care, I donât care.â you plead.Â
Robby shakes his head, âOkay, okay. Iâll cum inside you.â his thrust start to get sloppy at the thought, âAre you going to lay here, long after Iâm gone, with my cum leaking out of you? Is that what youâre going to do?âÂ
You nod vigorously.Â
âFuck. Ask me nicely.â he commands.Â
âPlease, Robby.â you breathe out, âPlease.âÂ
Robby nods, sweat beading his hairline from the exertion. He dips his head to bring you into a searing kiss, âI love you.â he mumbles against your lips.Â
Thereâs fewer words spoken after that. The bed creaks as Robby begins to pound into your pussy with one goal in mind. His soft stomach brushes against your pubes as he barely pulls out of you, hungry with need to stay deep within your walls.Â
Your legs lock around his middle and Robby lifts your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your backside as he brings your lower half up; fucking into you with desperation.Â
You babble his name, âIâm going to cum again.â you repeat over and over with the hot feeling returning in your stomach.Â
âYou can do it, sweetheart.â Robby encourages, thumb applying pressure to your already sensitive clit. âGive me one last one before I leave. Let me feel it around my cock.âÂ
The climax ripples through you for a second time at his words. Walls clenching around him so tightly, it made thrusting into you near impossible. Robby continues as best as he can, watching your face twist in painful pleasure.Â
Itâs enough to send him over the edge with you.Â
âFuck, fuck!â Robby grits out before his words are smothered beneath deep groans as he shoots hot ropes deep inside you. His body weight slumps on top of you, skin slick with sweat as he ruts into you a few more times for good measure.Â
You can feel his cum seep out at your opening, around his shaft that was still tucked deep in your pussy. Robby twitches inside of you, moving deeper a few times to ensure youâre stuffed to the brim.Â
He kisses the side of your face as he pants out, âI have no idea what Iâll do without you for three months.âÂ
The familiar melancholy returns to your stomach at the realisation that this was the conclusion before three months without him.Â
ââŚJust come back to me, Robinavitch.â
A/N: thank u to my sweet @novatheory for listening to my rambling over this fic and reading the snippets of drafts i would send at random times. mwah!!!!
summary: you put all your efforts during the holiday weekend trying to convince your husband that his three-month sabbatical doesnât have to end in the unspoken fatality he has been hinting at since it was announced. whilst robby puts all his efforts into pushing you away. (wc: 9.3k)
pairing: michael ârobbyâ robinavitch / f!reader
content: angst with a happy ending. fluffy parts. established relationship. wife!reader. an argument that happens the whole shift. s2 spoilers (the timeline of the show is jumbled for the plot) jealous!robby & jealous!reader? mean!robby. mental health struggles, hints to suicidal intentions, tension in a marriage, death and medical inaccuracies. beating a dead horse with this trope! 18+ suggestive content + smut (fingering and cunnilingusâf. receiving. minor breeding kink. robby is a little delayed in getting it up. unprotected p in v, dirty talk, light dom!robby & creampie)
Dana approaches you somewhere in the hour of 12PM. She looks at you over the rim of her glasses, all blonde strands of hair and each wrinkle in her forehead lined with concern for someone, more or less, adjacent to you. It makes you sink in your seat. You had been residing at the main workstation with three of the residents painfully assorting patient files since the CEO in his Fourth of July garb had made the announcement of preemptively shutting off all computer systems; leaving the ED without electronic health records, connected charting etc.Â
(You know, all the stuff that makes the department chug on like a semi-well-oiled machine.)Â
Being somewhat of a specialist in the art of expressions and the silence that comes with it, you were able to conclude that Dana Evansâthe guardian of the PTMCâwas not approaching you for a long-overdue chinwag.Â
Quite the opposite, actually.Â
âYou need to talk to him.â Dana commands in her usual gravel tone.Â
It makes you nervously scratch at your brow-bone. âI know. Iâm getting round to it. Just afterââÂ
âNow.â Dana interjects. She leans her whole body into the workstation, her voice drops down to barely a whisper, âHeâs acting up. Being a real Fourth of July spectacle. All this before he hops on that godforsaken motorcycle for three months. Youâve got the most Robby jargon out of all of us. Put it to use.âÂ
You let out a deep exhale. âFine.â
You stand at full height and Dana gives you a half smile that was a tamer version of amusement.
Things were not fine. In fact, things were so far out of the ballpark of fine, that you would never put Robby and the definition of âfineâ, or âokayâ or, overall just âgoodâ in one sentence. He was a man on the precipice of a life-altering decision that those around him would suffer the consequences that he had made; much longer after his three-month sabbatical on the road came to a screeching halt.Â
The signs had been there. Ever since you had begun at the PTMC as a fresh-faced attending with a basket full of naivety. It just took a couple of years for the signs to start catching up to you. And by then, your efforts to salvage the good pieces of Michael Robinavitch, had fallen through the cracks of a prepaid tombstone.Â
For the most part, colleagues would acknowledge the mental health problems that trickle down from behavioural changes from their peers, and then theyâd be able to go home without the additional weight of it upon their shoulders. No skin off of their noses if they werenât the ones paying for the extensive therapy sessions.Â
However, for you, that wasnât the case. Sinceâ
âHeâs your husband.â Dana calls after you.Â
You throw a hand up in retaliation, the sizeable rock on your ring finger catching the hazy overhead light. âThank you, Dana.âÂ
The reminder wasnât needed. Everyoneâincluding the one who married himâwas well aware that Dr. Michael Robinavtich had managed to be tied down. Motorcycle and all.
You had fallen in love prior to the catastrophic events from COVID, that had been the pipeline to Robby's mental health downfall. It had been exhilarating, and sometimes still was, at the beginning of the inner workings of a relationship that was blossoming beneath Gloria Underwoodâs watchful eye. All the sneaking around, keycards slid beneath clipboards, kissing on company time. The pair of you felt like giddy teenagers copping a feel.Â
He proposed to you within two years. Now, you were waltzing around the PTMC with a double barrel surname that was seemingly quite the tongue twister for those who took the time to read it. (This including Dennis Whitaker who went beet red when you had corrected his feeble attempt of reciting it back to you.)Â
You peer into Pedes to find him as predictedâcoddling Baby Jane Doe.
Robbyâs head turns as you speak, âHi,â you tilt your head and smile softly at the infant lazily dozing on your husbandâs shoulder. âHow is she doing?âÂ
âOh, just lonely.â he lilts.Â
You nod, smoothing a finger back and forth against her cheek, âShe likes you.âÂ
âWellâŚsheâd be the only one.â Robby mumbles as he places the infant back into the hospital cot. You smother the growing frown on your face when he straightens to full height. âYou need me for something?â he asks quietly.Â
I need you to come back to me.Â
You settle for, âJust making sure youâre okay. You knowâAfter how we left things this morning.â you say, deciding to take the brunt of whatever force you may be hit withâtaking Dana out of the collateral damage.Â
Things had been left on a sour note in the apartment you both shared in the downtown area of Pittsburgh. The looming presence of Robbyâs three-month sabbatical with his cognitive well-being balancing on the line of a fraying thread had made quite the topic of conversation over his black coffee and your nourishing choice of breakfast. Therapy was always at the centre of your tedious endeavours to ensure Robby came back to you in one piece during the early hours before work; and getting him to listen was no easy feat.Â
Your last ditch attempt to undertake your husbandâs reluctance to get help was thrown back at you beneath venom and animosity. It had almost given you whiplash. Robby escaped the confines of the apartment with a slam of the door after insisting that if you put more of your efforts into âminding your own businessâ, youâd be able to resolve whatever unearthed issues you had rolling about in your mindâsuch as your unrelenting desire to help those who donât want it.Â
The motorcycle ride without the helmet mustâve given his head a good shake, because when you entered the sliding doors of the PTMC; Robby began loitering around you enough to make it obvious he felt a little guilty on how he had left things.
(Never go to bed angry. Never hop on a death trap after searing your wife with the hot iron rod of your pent up anger. Or, something like that.)
Robby takes a deep inhale, thereâs a sort of playful glint in his eye as he speaks, âYou know, when you continue to ask someone if theyâre okay, it starts to get a little repetitive.âÂ
âMarriage is repetition.â you donât miss a beat, the lightheartedness that swoops the conversation feels a little foreign; considering the circumstances. âSue me for taking my vows seriously.âÂ
âHm.â Robby hums, the blue latex gloves snapping off his hands, âIs this a welfare check?âÂ
He shrouds your personal space for a moment. Not enough to seem intentional, but you knew his actions were the end result of your magnetic presenceâhence why he married you. You watch him cock his head in a roguishly handsome way, crows feet beside brown eyes exposed when he scrunches on eye shut. Michael Robinavitch was many things; but dense was not one.
His flirtations were consciously placed.Â
The room fills with the bustle from the central area of the ED when Robby pushes the door open, wedging it open with one foot to allow you to depart from Pedes. He looks down the slope of his nose at you, a faint smile catches at the corner of his lips when you size him up in passing.Â
âAre you open to one?â you bump your elbow into the softness of his stomach, habitually holding your hand beneath the sanitiser. It takes all your efforts to not look up at him.Â
You begin to walk together.Â
âUhâŚnope.âÂ
His answer takes a subtle jab at your heart. âThen consider it as me just being nosy about how youâre feeling.âÂ
âThatââ Robby halts you both, his fingers ghosting your elbow to allow a gurney to roll past. His eyes follow it as he continues, ââIs just a less fancier way of dressing this up as a welfare check. Have you seen Dana?âÂ
Sheâs the one that sent me, is what you want to say.Â
âSheâs talking with Emma.â you reply nonchalantly, âRobby, can you justâŚtalk to me? Please? Youâre deflecting.âÂ
âNo, Iâm running an Emergency Department.â Robby retorts, placing a hand on your back to keep you with him as he wades through the chaos of going analog. His eyes flit to you for a second and he softens at the melancholy you carry in your expression. âSweetheart, Iâm fine and sort of in the middle of something. Pin this conversation for later, okay?âÂ
âSure.â you murmur when he walks away. Dana takes up the rear-end of the conversation, slotting herself shoulder to shoulder with youâan iPad balancing in the crook of her elbow. You donât look at her when you say, âThat went well.âÂ
âPlenty of time, honey.â Dana grits, patting your back, âYouâll get through to him. As for now, Iâve got a case in South 15. Right up your alley. Lookinâ real pretty for a distraction, hm? Come on.âÂ
Robby is distracted when he returns to the central hub. The patient chart is a mere prop in his hands. The information untouched by his plethora of clinical knowledge, because all he can hear is you laughing at something that the handsome RadiologistâDr. Barkerâhas said. It hadnât bothered him when his staff members, Princess and Javadi, had been stood gawping at the man from afar. Was it a little inconvenient considering the circumstances the ED were squashed under? Yes.
Until it became a hinderance to their performance; it wasnât his problem.Â
As for youâŚit was different.Â
There was no overt behaviour that would lead anyone to believe that you were doing anything but being friendly until the wet reads came through for your patient in South 15. At an arms length from the guy, but still conversing in a way that shows off two of Robbyâs favourite things about you: your genuine toothy-grin and the nose scrunch do when you find something funny.Â
When Dana throws him a look in passing, he reverts back to the patient chart. Then your laughter carries across the room a minute after, and Robby decides thatâs enough time spent with the pretty boy from upstairs that has set up camp in the middle of the ED.
He idles up next to you with all the curiosity of a Chief Attending and not a husband that reeks of jealous intrigue.Â
(Professional before personal. The walls of the PTMC were a shield to the outside noise.)Â
âDr. Robby.â Barker greets.Â
You turn your head to see Robby practically flush with your back. âOhâHi.â
âDr. Barker.â Robby glances at you from his peripheral and chooses to ignore the mild perplexity that sits in the crease between your brows. His hands clutch his elbows when he crosses his arms across his chest, head tilting at the Radiologist. âHow long on this patientâs imaging?âÂ
âAnother fifteen minutes. Tops.â Barker answers after checking the process.Â
âThen I assume you can circle back on the jokes in fifteen minutes.â your head whips to glare at the Chief Attending-gone-rogue on being tactful around his professional peers, âCatalogue of patients on that whiteboard. They wonât treat themselves.â he chides.Â
You give Dr. Barker an apologetic look and walk by Robby who follows like a dog on a leash. Once the Radiologist is out of ear shot, you speak freely, âAre you seriously time-keeping my conversations?âÂ
âNo.â Robby drawls, âJust making sure one of my best Attending still has her head in the game.âÂ
âThatâs rich.â you scoff with minimal malice, âDr. Barker is a good guy. The way you spoke to him back thereââÂ
Robby interjects. âHo-ho, sounds like you like him.â
âI do.â
âMore than me?â he angles his body into yours to make room for an oncoming nurse. (He doesnât miss the small but wicked smile on your face.)Â
You mull it over when you reach the board. âOnly time will tell. Youâre still on probation from your morning tantrum.âÂ
Robby lets out a rare cackle that spreads the amusement across his weathered features and you beam up at the sight of his crows feet making an appearance under the circumstances of lighthearted humour. The palm of his hand rubs the span of your back as you stare at the whiteboard, making it a sight to behold for the forthcoming med students.Â
âIâUh,â Robby starts, removing his glasses and scratching the skin behind his ear, âI want to apologise for how this morning went.âÂ
âMhm.â you only look at him when you feel his eyes bore into your side-profile, âI forgive you. Doesnât mean Iâm not allowed to be mad at you, Robinavitch.â you remark setting the base layer tone as nothing short of sarcastic.Â
Robby inhales and speaks on the exhale, his voice only just audible to you, âWouldâŚa five minute break in an on-call room make up for any of it?âÂ
He looks hopeful.
You pray he shares the same sentiment on his three-month sabbatical. Unlikely, but negativity didnât pay the bills.Â
The insinuation is clearer than glass. On-call rooms were meant for a sole purpose of providing the staff at the PTMC a safe space to rest in privacy. It required a keycard to gain access to.Â
It was also the same space that Robby and you took advantage of for displays of affection that were crossing the boundaries classified in the Human Resources pamphlet you were both given on how to navigate an appropriate workplace relationship; and the power imbalances that could come with it.Â
Gloria Underwood would turn in her ivory white tower if she knew what the pair of you got up to behind that particular closed door on the company dime.Â
Robbyâs offer was tempting. His handsome face and optimistic eyes were even more.Â
âIâm happy where I am.â you advise him, without sounding too pained at the sacrifice.Â
Robby surrenders. âHappy wife, happy life.â he states with his hands up, then deciding to give Ogilvie and Joy a show by pulling you in by your shoulder and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. It was the least he could do, if the on-call room was off the menu. âShout if you need me.âÂ
âShout.â you whisper when he trails off, leaving you with the ambient hospital noises. (And, Joy and Ogilvie.) You point at them, âYou two. With me.âÂ
Eventually you return to the middle of the Pitt, swiping two patients off of the white board with two fingersâtoo lazy to find the eraser. You werenât sure what part had soured your mood. Either from the med-student Ogilvieâs unwavering need to put his foot in his mouth in front of patients and plummet those all important patient satisfaction scores, Louieâs passing, the foreboding presence of your husbandâs three-month sabbatical; or catching the loose ends of Noelle Hastings and Robbyâs conversation.Â
He catches sight of you in passingâyour face providing nothing but the word: hypocriteâwhilst he absentmindedly bobs his head along to Hastings sugary rambling over McKayâs patient case. His forehead creases as she speaks, scratching at the nape of his neck nervously. Robbyâs eyes flit over to you in the hopes that just this once, you may be a figment of his own imagination.Â
Despite jealously being relatively beneath you in your marriage to one of the PTMCâs eligible bachelors, without being too presumptuous, Robby feared that seeing him converse with his non-committal ex, may be the cherry on the cake for how your day was going.
(Hastings always had a habit of lingering. Which made it look even worse.)Â
Perlah comes up beside you, patient charts in abundance in her grasp.Â
âNot bothering you?â she asks with a subtle jerk of her head in Robby and Noelleâs direction.
You shuffle through some results, âGive it a couple of minutes.â you murmur.Â
Perlah lets out a laugh that catches both Noelle and Robbyâs attention nearby. Their heads turn at the abrupt sound, which in turn breaks up their train of thought over the long winded discussion. Noelle squeezes Robbyâs bicep before they go their separate ways, and suddenly your patientâs results need to be read millimetres from your face; when Noelle strolls into the workstation with a content expression on her pretty face.Â
âYou did that on purpose.â you whisper to Perlah behind your clipboard.
Perlah shrugs innocently and departs to ask Robby for a second-opinion.Â
The case manager perches at the edge of the workstation you happen to sit at, happily tapping at the surface of the workstation.
The thing about Noelle Hastings was, that she was neither a friend nor a foe to you. She was simply an extension of Robbyâs history of avoidant attachment that extended the length of seven-weeks. There was zero animosity toward her as some would anticipate you to have. She was kind, assisted you in insurance cases on the best outcome for the patient and even when she stepped over the invisible boundary that separated a fleeting situation from a marriage, with nostalgic remarks over her shared time with Robby; Noelle Hastings well-manicured nails were always far from digging into your husband.Â
She was aware of this. Respectful. Part of you assumes she was trying to find a middle ground to bond over with you. Understandably, it could get a little awkward when your previous sexual endeavoursâ wife is waltzing around the workplace.Â
Even more awkward when she catches herself going all gooey whenever she was within close proximity to his charm. (Worked on her for years. It wasnât going to stop now. Even if it wasnât intentional on his part.)Â
She speaks in the direction of Dana, âYou know what Motorcycle Mikeâs sabbatical is really about?âÂ
Dana remains unbothered, âI never try to guess whatâs going on in that head of his.âÂ
You shift in your seat, and it highlights yourself to Noelle.Â
âYouâre not going with him?â Noelle tosses the net with a polite smile and youâre suddenly pulled into the conversation, no longer a bystander pretending to be busy.Â
âUh, no.â you shift, rubbing the palms of your hands against your thighs.
Dana also responds, âYou kiddinâ? Weâd go cuckoo bananas if we lost her to a three-month sabbatical too.â she peers over the brim of her glasses at Noelle, âBehind every great man, is a greater woman.â she proclaims.Â
âI donât doubt it.â Noelle laughs. Thereâs a thought that churns over in her head and youâre left surrendering yourself to yet another boundary crossed when she decides to vocalise it. âItâs justâŚThatâd drive me crazy. You know? Him being off the radar for three whole months. The man couldnât sleep without the TV on in the bedroom. How is he going to survive all that silence?â
You take the comment in your stride, shutting the monitor off and standing. Dana throws you an empathetic look as a woman has been in the game for thirty years. Someone like that learns to become observational when being patient-facing means the little expressions matter.
And with the rise and fall of your chest; Dana can come to the conclusion that youâre upset by Hastings throwaway comment.Â
So, she defends where you wonât.Â
âLittle respect, Hastings.â Dana is casual in her directness. She glances at the pretty woman, âIt goes a long way.âÂ
Noelle looks mortified. âOhâNo. Iâm sorry. I overstepped.âÂ
âItâs fine.â you reassure her, gulping at the tightness in your throat, âYou made an observation that has stood the test of time. Robby is a big boy. Three months to reflect, alone, is healthy. TV on or not.âÂ
Now, youâre irritated.Â
Itâs enough for the conversation to not chase you when you depart the workstationâDana left to lowly chuckle in amusement at the underlying sharpness in your tone. You weave through bodies on autopilot, ears ringing from the seed of doubt planted by Hastings over Robbyâs time away. It made you think that perhaps you had been too enthusiastic over the idea of a three-month sabbatical with little to no contact with a man on the brink of catastrophe. Too laidback in putting the power in the hands of his mind that had nothing but malicious intent over his body.Â
It had sounded like a good idea at the time. Neither you or Robby could recall an official vacation that he had partaken inâaside from your honeymoon. Now? You werenât so sure.
Everyone else had told you otherwise ever since it had been announced.Â
âEverything okay?â by some hideous trick of fate, Robby matches the strides in the walk you were taking around the parameters of the department.
He had spotted you from the window of South 22 and excused himself with the reassurance from Dr. Al-Hashimi that she could hold down the fort. Being married to you came with unlimited perks, one being that Robby was able pinpoint your tells that signalled a combative mood. Not necessary toward him; but the idea wouldnât be so far fetched.Â
(It was all in the downturn of your lips. And the tightness in your jawline.)Â
âYou tell me. Does having to listen to your ex question my decision to not saddle up on a three-month sabbatical with my flight risk husband, whilst also sorely reminding me that she also knows you leave the TV on through the night, make a good case for everything to be going okay?â you quip, narrowly avoiding Ahmedâs call to the betting pool.Â
Robby blows out hot air. âCouldâve said devoted husband.â he jokes. It crashes and burns when you spare him a stern glance. âOkay. How about we take in some fresh air in the Ambulance Bay?âÂ
âLead the way.âÂ
It doesnât take much further and the summer air of Pittsburgh clings to your bodies in all the wrong places. It preemptively sets the tone as you scuff your feet against the ground, arms tightly bound across your chest in an effort to translate your hardened exterior from the events of the day.Â
Honestly, it felt close to dogpiling once Hastings becameâunintentionallyâinvolved.Â
Robby takes in the scenes of the empty Ambulance Bay, his eyes find his beloved motorcycle still in tact at the side of the building. He takes a step forward in order to block it from your line of vision.Â
After a moment, an arm wraps around your shoulder and youâre suddenly curled into your husbandâs side. His lips find your temple and they stay pressed against your skin to resolve some of the bad feelings running about in your chest.Â
You close your eyes as Robby repetitively presses chaste kisses to the same spot, relishing in the physical affection that you will be deprived off for three months. Or further; depending on how far Michael Robinavitch was willing to go.Â
The thought alone makes you recoil out of his touch.Â
Robbyâs brows quirk in confusion. âToo hot?â he asks naively. Unprepared.Â
âWeââ you sigh, ââWe need to continue the conversation from this morning.âÂ
âNoâŚwe donât.â Robby informs, his expression still unwavering in adoration, âItâs water under the bridge. I apologised.âÂ
âIâm talking about the part where you accept the therapy sessions on this sabbatical.â you start, feeling the prompt shift in the atmosphere, âJack has given me all the information for his therapistââÂ
âSweetheart. I am begging you not to start this shit again.â Robby has the palms of his hands flush against each other in a begging motion thatâs sent in your direction. âI donât need a therapist on this trip.âÂ
âThrow me a bone here, Robby.â you exasperate, âYouâre obviously not well. Is it really so bad that Iâm making sure I get you back by the end of this?â you feel your patience chip, the skin of your neck prickling with frustration.
Robby chuckles. âOh, youâll get me back. Iâll make sure of it.â
The morbidity of his answer makes you pause.Â
You blink at him, âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?âÂ
âIt meansâŚstop telling me how to feel.â Robby narrows his eyes, throwing a sarcastic smile your way.Â
âThen what are you feeling, Robby?â you snap at him, the humid summer air clinging to your skin.Â
He chuckles lowly, âI really donât need you to be my shrink.âÂ
You shake your head, âThis isnât what a shrink does. You would know that if you just see one for two days of the week whilst youâre away. Jackâs therapist does virtual appointmentsââÂ
âI already gave you my answer to that.âÂ
âHoly shit.â you clench your fists and tap them against your forehead to relieve your frustrations, âIâm not asking you to lobotomise yourself on this sabbatical, Robby. Itâs fucking therapy.â Â
Robby sneers, âNo? Thisââ he gestures to the space between you in circles, ââfeels an awful lot like a lobotomy. Cut it out.âÂ
âCut it out?â you repeat, âIâm not a child.âÂ
âAre you sure about that, sweetheart?â Robby crosses his arms, the argument was beginning to feel like being inside a pressure cooker, âYouâre upset over this morning. Over the sabbatical, clearly over whatever bullshit Hastings said to you. About Louie. You canât regulate your own emotions at work and you have the nerve to tell me I need fucking help? That is fucking hypocrisy.âÂ
âOh, quit projecting.â you look around for a minute to take a break from the intense stare down.Â
âWhyâŚare you doing this right now?âÂ
You watch Robby rub at his temples. âWhy? Because youâre lashing out. Youâve been doing it to Mohan, Dana and Al-Hashimi all fucking day. Youâre upset that Langdon is back and youâre punishing him for your own feeling of failure.âÂ
âMohan is tough love.â Robby cherrypicks.Â
âCut the shit, Robby. Youâve been wearing her down and you know it.â you gesture to the ED just beyond the sliding doors, âShe had a panic attack and you belittled her over the same shit you did last year in Pedes!â
Robby shakes his head in disbelief, âYouâre really bringing that up right now?âÂ
âYes. I am.â you retort plainly, âRobby. Canât you see this is all happening because I love you?â you collect your voice beneath a whisper when an EMT strolls by you.Â
Robby waits until they vacate the premises to speak as he drags his fingers along creases in his forehead. âYeah. I do. And, right nowâŚI need you to love me less.â he conveys cruelly.Â
Your worry ebbs into hurt. Fingers curling tight enough that your nails are pressing crescent moons into the palm of your hands. His words lay flat against your chest like wet cement. Any further rebuttals you had lined up dissipate and youâre left with a blank slate, jaw slack as you try to make sense of it all.Â
The Ambulance Bay plunges into icy waters. Robby nervously drags his thumbnail across the top of his brow bone as he cranes his neck to look inside the building. It wasnât evident to you at the time, but his inner turmoil flares at the sight of your broken expression.Â
Even when you gather yourself up with watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip, Robby does nothing. He allows you the action of brushing past him to escape the jaws of his verbal brutality, throwing yourself back into the chaos of a holiday weekend.Â
Heâs left with the whir of ambulances in the distance.
Robby watches you leave, mumbling a âshitâ under his breath. He drops his head back to take in the humid air through his nostrils; the brief solitude condemned when Baran Al-Hashimi appears.Â
âRobby?â Baran calls from the doors, offering a hesitant smile, âPerlah has notified me that Ms. Kovalenkoâthe burn patientâis ready to be seen again.âÂ
Robby swings his hands around his body, releasing the tension by smacking his palm against his other hand that was curled up into a fist. He strains a smile, âIâll be right there.âÂ
Robby takes a shot at a breath to exhale any leftover poison on his tongue from your spatâbeing wise to the fact that patient satisfaction scores would increase without personal baggage. The dispenser spits the sanitiser into his hand and he chooses to open the door with his back; checking for any sign of you amongst the sea of people marching about.Â
The pit in his stomach grows when he can spot you in the middle discussing a case with McKay. Your back is turned, but Robby has been with you long enough to see the tension taught across your shoulder blades from the deep laceration he had caused by projecting his frustrations for a second time that day.Â
He takes a mental note to make amends by any means possible. And promptly too.Â
He enters the room with one last look at you. âHello. Howâs it going in here?âÂ
âWe were just discussing your wife.â Perlah informs with a friendly smile, fingers busy with the task at hand. When Robby looks inquisitive about how the topic turned to you in his absence, Perlah adds, âShe just came to find me for a patient. Said hello. Ms. Kovalenko was curious about the double-barrel surname on her badge. It got us talking. All good things.âÂ
Robby hums warmly. âA conversation Iâm always happy to partake in.â he perches himself on the nearby stoolâboth Perlah and Ms. Kovalenko watching as he fixes his posture.
âBeautiful.â Ms. Kovalenko states.Â
âVery.â Robby concurs earnestlyâhe wants to say that you are the eighth wonder of the world.Â
(The argument puts that sort of compliment on hold for the time being.)Â
âToo good for you.â The red-haired woman quips.Â
âOoh. Iâll have to agree there too.â he lilts, the pang of guilt smothered behind a professional glaze. He pats the tops of his thighs, âDid I miss all the gross stuff?âÂ
âTimed it perfectly.â Perlah replies.Â
âExcellent. My job is all about delegation and time management.â Robby chides with a brave face; hoping his emotions werenât too raw on his face over the mention of you.Â
Perlah and him get into a lighthearted back and forth over his imminent departure at the end of the twelve-hour shift, which piques Ms. Kovalenkoâs interest over the finer details.Â
âHeâs leaving us for three-months. On a motorcycle.â Perlah shifts in her chair, happy to invite Ms. Kovalenko further behind closed doors.Â
Kovalenkoâs brows raise to her hairline. âMotorcyle? Youâre joking.â she whips her head round to stare at Robby, âWhy would you do this?â she asks sternly.Â
âWhy? Why? BecauseâŚuhââÂ
âYouâre a middle aged man. Donât be stupid.â she spits back, âWhat about your wife? Is she happy about this decision?âÂ
âShe isâŚmoderately humble about it.â Robby rolls closer to the sharp-tongued patient, narrowly averting his gaze to the injury concealed beneath a thin cloth.Â
âModerately humble.â Kovalenko repeats sardonically with a few nods of her head. âForgive me for being blunt but, do you think that is the equivalent to being happy, Dr. Robinavitch? I pity your wife. Very sad.âÂ
Robby hangs his head and huffs out a laugh, âWe cannot stop the world from spinning just because one person doesnât like the way it goes round, Ms. KovalenkoâHow about we focus on your care?â
Thereâs a significant pause.Â
âUs women are what make the world go round,â her lips quirk in satisfaction when Robbyâs brown eyes drift from her burn site, âWouldnât you agree, Dr. Robinavitch?â
Once the elderly, fiery-haired patient with a nasty burn on her thigh is discharged from Robbyâs careânot without a stern lecture and some wonderful insight about his lack of appreciation for women in generalâitâs evident that all signs are pointing to resolving the conflict that had transpired between you two.Â
If there was one person Robby was not willing to part with on a sour note for three whole monthsâŚit was you.Â
The better half of him. The center of his gravity. The only person strong enough to flip the heavy hourglass in time before he drains himself entirely.
Also, the woman that was apparently hard to track down in a department he knew like the back of his hand.Â
(He worries you left. But that wasnât in your nature. Hurt feelings or not.)Â
âWhereââ he pauses, ââis my Attending?â Robby checks the surrounding areas as he speaks directly to Dana who was standing at the workstation with Monica Petersâthe Pittâs once renowned cynical clerk until things went south over technology.Â
Dana lets out an amused scoff, looking down at the clipboard pressed against her stomach; strands of blonde hair loose around her face.
âSheâs been demoted to just Attending? Whatâd she do?â she quips in her usual tone that has Robby flaring his nostrils, âSheâs writing up the death note for Javadi. McKayâs cancer patientâRoxieâshe passed away.âÂ
Robby frowns, âWhereâs McKay?â
âMIA.â Dana drawls, now fiddling with the prescribed box of nicotine gum, âShe seemed pretty upset coming from the Ambulance Bay. Anything you want to tell me?âÂ
âItâs been a long day.â he calls flippantly, already parting through the sea of pandemonium.Â
He puts the plethora of questions about McKayâs whereabouts on the back burner for the time being.Â
Dana raises her voice over the hospital buzz, âMake amends, Cap.âÂ
He gives the charge nurse a two-finger salute.Â
For once, he makes it to his destination uninterrupted by an emergency that requires his presence in the trauma room. The door to the room that had been dimly lit aside from the salt lamp glow, clicks open as Robby arrives; finding you slipping out the gap and closing the door quietly behind you.Â
You havenât seen him yet.Â
For observational purposes, the Chief Attending watches you press your forehead against the cool glass of the narrow window of the door. His stomach sinks when he can see your shoulders shudder as you take a deep breath to fill your lungs with air that kept evading you.Â
He doesnât feel like thereâs ever going to be an appropriate time to speak to you in order to rescind his previous declarations. Even more so now, as you conceal the notion of silently weeping in the middle of the ED.Â
âYou need a coffee?â Robbyâs voice makes you jolt. For once, he shrinks in confidence under your unsteady gaze. His tired eyes take in the vision of your watery ones and his expression melts into tenderised sympathy. He nods, âCome on.â
The staff room is empty when you enter, aside from the manikin that Nurse Jesse took great pleasure in decorating, before he was wrongfully detained by ICE agents for intervening with patient care at the core of his interestsâjust another reason to confirm that the holiday weekend had been nothing short of twenty car pile-up that you were being forced to look at.Â
The box of donuts from upstairs is empty, the clock above is ticking closed to the end of the day shift; even when the job wasnât truthfully done at the stroke of 7PM. You take the seat closest to the wall, muscles sighing from the imminent relief of pressure.Â
Robby stands at the coffee machineâif you can even call it that. It sputters a watery version of coffee into a styrofoam cup, and he dumps two packets of sugar into the liquid in order to salvage some sweetness amidst the bitter tone of the room.Â
He slides the cup over to you and fishes a protein bar from his pocket, patting it to emphasise the notion that dinner had been served.Â
Your stubbornness prevails as you push the bar away from you, despite having not eaten for almost seven hours.Â
Robby sighs at that. The refusal doesnât surprise him. You were always prone to a petty hunger strike when it came to Robby providing you with food to nourish your body after an argument. It was sort of his way to build up to an apology.Â
He drags the spare seat across the flooring and plants it in front of you.
The fabric of your scrubs brush against his when his knees bumps yours as he sits. The close proximity invites his scent into your bubble, the undertones of his aftershave prominent enough for you to recognise the fragrance as the one he wore on your wedding day.Â
Robby rests his elbows on the tops of his thighs as he lean into your space.
As the words form on his lips into a coherent icebreaker that he was easing into, the door to the staff room whips open to reveal Trinity Santos.Â
You look up at her. Robby doesnât.Â
âI need an Attending.âÂ
Robby answers for the both of you.Â
âGo find Dr. Al-Hashimi.â he sings.Â
Santos mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes as she shuts the door behind her. You give Robby a certain lookâone heâs been given beforeâthat tells him you werenât in favour of brushing off the RS2 in favour of squashing the hostility that he brought upon the both of you.Â
He gives you a meek but crooked smile. Crows feet prominent as he tries to warm the atmosphere.Â
âI need youâŚto understand something here.â Robby starts, his hands falling to the sides of your kneecaps. He can barely look at you when he talks, âIf I donât go on this sabbatical, I am not so sure itâll stop me fromâŚâ he trails off.Â
The room falls silent.Â
He can barely say it himself because verbalising it would make that little more of a tangible thing.Â
You canât conjure up the fight to protest; so you hang your head.Â
âWhat upset you about Roxieâs case?â Robby takes a different approach. He tilts his head like a curious dog when you look back up from your lap.Â
You mull it over. âDo you ever stand in a room with a wife and a husband, one of them is dying in front of the otherâs eyes.  And they just have to watch it happen at their bedside?âÂ
Robby gives a curt nod.Â
âDo you ever put yourself in their shoes, Robby?â you question, âHow that would feel? To have the most meaningful part of you slip through your fingers and you donât have the control to stop it. Thisââ gesture with your finger between your bodies, ââIs how that feels for me.âÂ
âYeahââ
âNo.â you shake your head, âYou donât get to sit there and tell me you know how it feels from my perspective. I love you in ways that you arenât reciprocating. You know why?âÂ
âWhy?â Robby whispers.Â
You continue, âBecause, if we loved each other equally, there wouldnât be a shadow of a doubt to get the help that you fucking need.â your voice trembles, âI cannot keep pushing through this fog around you, Robby.âÂ
âI know.â Robbyâs expression melts. Brown eyes softer than ever. âI know.âÂ
âThen get help. Please.âÂ
Robby cups the back of your head when tears begin to shed from your eyes. âOkay, okay. Iâll do it.â he presses his lips to your forehead, âIâll do it. Iâm sorry.âÂ
The moment is held sacred against your hearts. Thereâs a particular weight that lifts off of your shoulders when Robby gives in, but even thenâŚyour heart was still heavy from the outcome of your previous argument in the Ambulance Bay.Â
Maybe three months apart would mend those open wounds. (Absence made the heart grow fonder. Apparently.)Â
Robby finally pulls back with a pained expression on his face; as he memorises your features close-up. âWhat I said beforeâI didnât mean it. Iâm not sure how Iâd do in life if I didnât have you up my ass about everything.âÂ
âI hear Montana has a lot of fresh oxygen. You can use all of that up with consistent apologies during your sabbatical.â you grouse, wiping at the wetness that Robby misses when he drags his thumb across your cheekboneâridding you of a lash that had latched onto your skin. âYou know, people divorce for less.â you say.Â
Genuine laughter ripples from Robbyâs chest, the moment of reconciliation solidified in your acerbic intonation. (Part of him wonders how many lives he has left before the reality of divorce comes to life.)Â
Instead of answering back, Robby forgoes professional protocol by pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. It takes a few swallows to dislodge the lump in his throat, smothering his own upset when you pull away to meet his gaze. Â
The door opens for a second time.Â
Dana holds onto the handle, staring at the scenes before her over the rim of her glasses. âWould you look at that. Itâs a Fourth of July miracle. Can this wrap up so we can do rounds and get the hell out of this godforsaken place? Two more minutes, lovebirds.â
Robby stands at the foot of the bed. Itâs well after midnight and whilst you have shed into the comforts of your sleepwear, Robby is clad in a thick Carhartt jacket and dark jeans with his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. He is looking like the epitome of a reckless motorcyclist about to venture on the open road after a gruelling twelveâand some additional hoursâshift at the Emergency Department.
You are sat with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. Ready to bid your husband goodbye; praying itâs rather a âsee you soonâ sort of farewell.
His confirmation in the Staff Room didnât sit all that well in your stomach.Â
âYou have got everything?â you ask, twiddling with the hem of his jacket, âWallet? Phone? Cash? The list of phone numbers I wrote down for you?â Robby nods along as you list it off, âToothbrush? Phone charger? The little First Aid Kit I bought?âÂ
âCheck.â Robby affirms.Â
Thereâs an unfamiliar feeling rolling about in the air of your bedroom. Robby and you had rarely spent time apartâas unhealthy as it may sound to other couples, it just works for you. Nothing more than a week, when you decided to take a well-earned break from the seventh layer of hell named the Pitt.Â
Three months would feel like a lifetime.Â
You sigh deeply, âCall me. Or text me when you arrive at the first hotel. I love you. Kind of.âÂ
âI love you too, sweetheart.â Robby leans down to kiss you sweetly. His hand captures your jawline to deepen the kiss to gratify his needs. He barely pulls back to look at you, âIâll miss you.âÂ
âIâd hope so.â you kiss him again. Your hands rest against the broad-line of his shoulders, whilst his free hand clutches your back to press your body into him. You whisper against his feverish kiss, âYouâre running late to get on the road.âÂ
âIâve got time.â Robby answers back.Â
The change in pace happens abruptly. One minute youâre exchanging a bittersweet goodbye, and the next, your t-shirt has been yanked over your head, leaving your chest exposed; nipples hardening from the cool air.Â
Robby bends to capture a nipple into his mouth, his beard creating a sweet fiction alongside his tongue swiping at your bud. He groans against your tit, and you take the opportunity to slide his bag from his shoulderâhis jacket coming off quickly after.Â
Once he pays attention to your neglected nipple by repeating the same actions, he pulls back with his hair sticking up in all directions as a result of you tugging at it.Â
His pupils are blown wide.Â
âYou want me to take care of you before I leave, hm?â Robby asks, his tone dripping in saccharine.
You nod, breathless.Â
He dips his head to press wet kisses down your navel whilst you instinctively lift your hips when his fingers hook at the sides of your flimsy excuse for underwear; which he stuffs into the back pocket of his jeans for later. The air thickens, the silence filling with lewd groans from Robbyâs mouth as he lifts and parts your thighs, pressing them up to your chest to expose your slick core.Â
His callus palms smooth across the length of the backs of your thighs, creating goosebumps in his wake. Brown eyes drift from your aching pussy, up to your face to observe your reaction when he drags two fingers from your seeping hole and upward to your sensitive clit.Â
You jolt and whimper from the sensation and Robby clicks his tongue, shushing you as he repeats the same action.Â
Once he gathers enough of your juices on his two fingers, he applies pressure to your clit and begins to rubbing in slow circles. You whine, legs making effort to drop down to relieve the pressure; only for Robbyâs free hand to pin them against your chest again.Â
âRobbyâŚâ you manage to say.Â
Robby cocks his head to the side to watch your hole clench around empty air. âThat feel good?âÂ
Your brows pinch with your eyes fluttering shut. Instead of answering his question, you bring a hand to bite down onâwhich Robby promptly swats away.Â
âTalk to me, sweetheart. Let me know.âÂ
You nod, âUh-huh.âÂ
âGood. Fuck, look at you.â Robby drags his fingers down to your hole and eases them in with little resistance. He groans when your walls clench tightly around his digits, âHow can I leave this?âÂ
Unable to respond again, your hips tilt when Robby curls his fingers upward into you, enough to make your jaw clench. He presses his thumb-pad against your clit, rubbing at a pace that heâs well aware that you appreciate.Â
Long-term commitment does wonders to mapping out the hot spots of your anatomy.Â
The room fills with a schlicking sound with Robby pumping his fingers in and out of you at a gentle pace.Â
âIâve got you.â Robby mumbles, jaw slack at the sight of you arching your back off of the mattress. He takes his free hand that had your legs pinned and applies weight to your lower stomach, picking up the pace with his fingers. âOoh. There it is.â he says as your walls fit snug against his fingers.
âIâmâFuck.â you whinge, spots lining your vision. âRobby, please.âÂ
Robby bobs his head a handful of times, arm beginning to ache from the relentless back and forth motion. His restraint is minimal, quick to shift himself halfway off the bed so his eyes are level with your swollen lips. Youâre soaked. He can see at the base of his fingers collects your cream, which allows his thought process is thrown out the window.Â
Suddenly, Robby has all the time in the world before he has to leave.
When his mouths latches onto your clit, thatâs when things become a little more desperate. His moans vibrate against you, sending you squirming; stomach tensing as he sucks at your swollen nervesâif anything, he wants to leave a lasting impression upon his departure.Â
Robby swaps between kitten licks and suckling at your clitâhis tongue occasionally dipping to taste the closeness at your hole. His thick fingers work at your insides. Eyes flit up to see your mouth open, bare chest panting from the coil in your stomach on the precipice of snapping.Â
It is Robbyâs favourite things; watching you come undone.Â
His own hips find friction against the mattress as you let out a guttural moan from the back of your throat, body curling into the orgasm that your husband pulls from you.Â
You push at Robbyâs head when he sucks at your clit out of greed. Too sensitive, you slump into the mattress with the palm of your hand lying flat against your forehead.Â
Robby straightens up at the end of the bed with a smug smile, eyes twinkling. âYou okay?âÂ
You wordlessly give him a thumbs up, whining when he pulls his two fingers from your vagina.
After a minute, you rest on your elbows to watch your husband fiddle with his belt. âLet me help.â you advise, moving onto your knees to assist him.Â
Youâre brought into a bruising kiss as you tug the belt from the belt loops, tossing it to the ground with a âthunk.â Itâs light workâremoving Robbyâs jeans and boxers in one swoopâas you had been in this very position several times throughout your relationship; able to visualise the steps in which Robby matches your nudity.Â
As you look down, Robby huffs, âGive it a second, sweetheart.â
His cock still semi-soft, he wraps a hand around the hardened base and gives himself a few pumps so the rest of his shaft could catch up.Â
He sheepishly chuckles, âIf I was a few years youngerââÂ
âI donât care.â you kiss him to halt the self-deprecation, âMeans I get to steal more time off of your sabbatical.âÂ
It had always been an explanation during sex. The first time it had happened, Robby insisted his level of attractions toward you hadnât depleted, rather it was just his age showing at the worst possible timeâsomething heâd take more gray hairs and wrinkles over any day.Â
Never stunting his performance, nor was it a deal breaking factor for you, every time since Robbyâs delay in stiffening; you had to remind him there was nothing wrong with it.Â
Slow and steady wins the race.Â
You lick your lips, watching Robby work his shaft in his hand, his wedding band catching the warmth of the salt lamp at your bedside. He lifts his free hand whilst you watch, the two fingers that had been deep inside you now edging their way into your mouth.Â
His fingers leave your mouth with a faint âpopâ and it seems to do the trick as Robbyâs tip is flushed red, his slit beginning to bead with precum.
You lower yourself back down onto the mattress with Robby following you. His callus palms come to the plushness of your hips, and he turns you over so your front is lying flush against the tousled sheets.
He dips to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before hiking your hips upward so you are resting on all fours.
Robby hums as he drags his cock through your wetness, âIâm going to miss you.â Â Â
Your fingers curl into the cotton sheets, goosebumps trailing up the length of your spine. Robby kisses your back again, the tip of his cock nudging at your hole. He gives you both a minute before sinking himself in inch by inch; his lips pressing to your skin to smother the groan eliciting from his throat.Â
Thereâs no rush in his movement. Thereâs around thirty seconds of adjusting before he sinks further into your pussy, his head dropping back when he is to the hilt.Â
Robby stays in your warmth without moving for a minute.Â
After a minute or so, his hips begin to shift, the softest part of his stomach pressing to your ass when he buries himself deep. Stabilising himself by grasping onto your ass cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh; Robbyâs brows furrow from the searing pleasure as he looks down to see his shaft already coated in your arousal.Â
You hang your head, letting out a whimper from feeling so full.Â
âJesusâYou feel good.â Robby grits behind you. He watches your back muscles tense when he slides his cock out slowly, âAre you going to miss this, baby?âÂ
You canât answer. The tip of Robbyâs cock plunges into a spongy part, and your vision is lined with white spots.Â
Robby gives you a second and repeats the motion until his desire to hear you reaffirm his question takes over. He frees a hand from grappling at your backside, his fingers curling around your throat to tilt your head back to look him in the eye.Â
âTell me.âÂ
You almost cry, âYesâfuckâyes, Iâll miss this.âÂ
âUh-huh.â Robby grins, âYou will.âÂ
The hand being used to force eye contact is removed and you whine when Robby fully pulls out of you. He flips you back over onto your back with ease, folding your legs up to your chest again before sinking back into you without warning.Â
Your back arches as much as it can from being pinned; Robby dips to smother it with a sloppy kiss.Â
Your hands curl around his neck, whimpering when you feel him pulse inside you. Well aware that it wasnât going to last long.Â
His thrusts are shallow and restricted to contain his own climax for a little while longer. The tip of his cock brushes against a sensitive part, and heâs left breathlessly chuckling when you tighten yourself around him.Â
âYouâll make me cum doing that.â Robby lifts his head, eyes squeezing shut. He drags himself out of you until the tip of his cock is at your opening. You clench to suck the majority of his shaft back in. âShit baby. Fuck it. Keep squeezing me like that. Just like that.âÂ
âFuck, Robby.â is all you can muster, hands clawing at his back when he picks up his pace.Â
Robby folds your legs back up to your chest for a third time that night. His thumb catches your clitâunsure if he can drag another orgasm out of you with little recovery time. âLet me fuck you right there. You feel it? Youâre so fucking tight.âÂ
âRobbyââ you babble.
âHm? What is it, sweetheart?â Robby pants, the slapping sounds echoing in the room.Â
You free your legs from his grasp and wrap them around his middle. âI wantâI need you to cum inside me.âÂ
âFuck. Donât say shit like that.â Robby laughs, his pace faltering. He looks at your expression and realises youâre being serious. âIs that what you want? For me to cum inside you? What if you get pregnant?âÂ
âI donât care, I donât care.â you plead.Â
Robby shakes his head, âOkay, okay. Iâll cum inside you.â his thrust start to get sloppy at the thought, âAre you going to lay here, long after Iâm gone, with my cum leaking out of you? Is that what youâre going to do?âÂ
You nod vigorously.Â
âFuck. Ask me nicely.â he commands.Â
âPlease, Robby.â you breathe out, âPlease.âÂ
Robby nods, sweat beading his hairline from the exertion. He dips his head to bring you into a searing kiss, âI love you.â he mumbles against your lips.Â
Thereâs fewer words spoken after that. The bed creaks as Robby begins to pound into your pussy with one goal in mind. His soft stomach brushes against your pubes as he barely pulls out of you, hungry with need to stay deep within your walls.Â
Your legs lock around his middle and Robby lifts your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your backside as he brings your lower half up; fucking into you with desperation.Â
You babble his name, âIâm going to cum again.â you repeat over and over with the hot feeling returning in your stomach.Â
âYou can do it, sweetheart.â Robby encourages, thumb applying pressure to your already sensitive clit. âGive me one last one before I leave. Let me feel it around my cock.âÂ
The climax ripples through you for a second time at his words. Walls clenching around him so tightly, it made thrusting into you near impossible. Robby continues as best as he can, watching your face twist in painful pleasure.Â
Itâs enough to send him over the edge with you.Â
âFuck, fuck!â Robby grits out before his words are smothered beneath deep groans as he shoots hot ropes deep inside you. His body weight slumps on top of you, skin slick with sweat as he ruts into you a few more times for good measure.Â
You can feel his cum seep out at your opening, around his shaft that was still tucked deep in your pussy. Robby twitches inside of you, moving deeper a few times to ensure youâre stuffed to the brim.Â
He kisses the side of your face as he pants out, âI have no idea what Iâll do without you for three months.âÂ
The familiar melancholy returns to your stomach at the realisation that this was the conclusion before three months without him.Â
ââŚJust come back to me, Robinavitch.â
A/N: thank u to my sweet @novatheory for listening to my rambling over this fic and reading the snippets of drafts i would send at random times. mwah!!!!
the MOST unreliable narrator to ever hit the screens. half of the time my man pope is in lalaland and the other half heâs running the country of murderville
slightly longer version of this imagine ⥠nsfw mdni
pope has been out all day on a job for smurf, and heâs completely exhausted. heâs spent the whole day fighting and getting his hands dirty, and right now all he really wants is to be with his girl.
when he walks into your room, he finds you curled up in bed, already asleep. you look so soft, so pretty for him, he canât help but crawl in next to you and kiss you awake. his lips trail along your neck and up to your ear, so he can whisper, âhey, baby, iâm home.â
it takes a few moments, but eventually you stir, your bleary eyes squinting at him as they focus. âoh⌠hi andyâŚâ you tug him closer and close your eyes, already falling back asleep. âmissed youâŚâ
pope smiles, âyeah, missed you too, sweetheart.â he pulls the blankets away slowly to find you in just his t-shirt and a pair of thin panties. theyâre already wet. âoh, you did miss me, didnât you?â
you hide your face in his neck, âmhmâŚâ while his hand trails up to your inner thighs. you let out a gasp and start to shut them but he murmurs, âno, baby, itâs okay. just wanna play a bit, yeah?â this just makes you more shy, but he pushes gently, âiâll go slow, promise. just wanna feel youâŚâ
you donât stop him, so he plays with you a bit, just like he said he would. just gently rubbing over your panties, getting you ready for him.
by the time heâs undoing his belt and stepping out of his trousers, youâre face down on the bed, hugging his pillow, all sleepy and pliant the way he wanted you. so when he starts fucking into you from behind, you have no complaints, youâre right where you want to be.
Watching a movie with Gentle!Pope and he's spooning you on the couch while you use his bicep as a firm pillow, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your shirt when he can't quite focus on the movie.
But then towards the end of the movie when the unexpected sad ending comes- he feels your breath slow, small pauses in between as your eyes lock on the screen and he's rubbing up and down your sternum as he pulls you in closer and lets you wipe the subtle tear on his sleeve. Kissing the top of your head as his other hand grabs the remote to turn off the credits.
"s' okay sweet girl, just a movie yeah? C'mere what's wrong, hm?"
And he's rubbing your skin up and down softly trying to soothe you but you keep tearing up and talking about how sad the ending wasâ he can't fully understand why a movie is making you so emotional but he still wants to make sure his pretty girl is okay :(
( In my head he talks to reader the same way he talks to Lenaâ like all sweet n shit to make sure she knows shes safe<3)
