#Robbie&Max

[noiamexhausted02]

I think since Abbot works nights he gets majority of the GenZ nurses so he starts picking up on some of the phrases (after they explain what they mean)

Example:

Abbot: *really mad* I’m about to crash out

*Robby genuinely thinking he’s going into cardiac arrest*

[internetdaddy98]

The Long Game - Masterlist

Completed Series Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, a brilliant but emotionally guarded 50 year-old ER attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, is known for his restraint, his integrity, and the shadows he carries from past losses. Enter Dr. Y/N Sheridan, a 29-year-old fourth-year resident, stoic, soft-spoken, and far wiser than her years. 

Their relationship begins as mentorship, layered with quiet admiration and mutual respect. But as years pass, unspoken tension simmers beneath the surface, giving way to a forbidden, powerful connection neither of them can deny. From stolen glances in trauma rooms to whispered promises behind closed doors, the two navigate an increasingly complicated emotional and physical bond, tested by hospital politics, personal ghosts, and the sheer intensity of loving someone you were never supposed to fall for.

word count: 29K Content Warning: Age-gap relationship, Power dynamics, Explicit sexual content, Auditory kink, PTSD and Trauma, Survival’s guilt,  Panic attacks, Grief and Death, Discussion of burnout, loss, and emotional repression, Medical Procedures, Graphic depictions of medical procedures, Blood. 

The Beginning Of The End

Dr. Michael Robinavitch 

Day One 

Silent Admittance 

The Quiet Fury 

Zugzwang

The Opening Gambit

Knight to E5

Check

Checkmate *

The Anatomy of Want *

The Long Shift *

Somatic Response *

Catharsis

Point of Care

Eros and Empirics

Auscultation

Uncharted Territory

Night Float Feelings

The Endgame

[666thtoolofhell]

INITIAL CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS S01E01 - HOUR 1 // 7:00 A.M. (writer’s draft)

[snoopyreadstoday]

your honor i see no difference

[hey-sparcs]

the pitt + text posts

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

sweet nothings

summary: you own a bakery down the street from PTMH, and Dr. Robby is one of your favorite customers. The night of The Pitt Fest shooting, you stress bake and deliver the results to the park near the hospital when you have a gut feeling everyone could use something to lift their spirits wc:  1.8 k+ a/n: this is my first time writing for The Pitt but I really enjoyed it, looking forward to more!! Please feel free to send any requests my way! Yes I stole the title from the Taylor Swift song, some things never change. warnings: two idiots who haven't gotten their shit together and admitted their feelings, general fluff

You’d been elbow deep in flour and cocoa powder the moment that you saw the first message concerning the shooting at Pitt Fest. You whisked and folded, hoping that the familiar movements would quiet the nausea churning in your stomach. You knew that it was going to be a long night for your chosen family, which meant that it was going to be a long night for you. Three batches of brownies, a few dozen cookies and a special batch of gluten free hand pies for Princess later, and you could catch your breath. By the time that you had them all packed up and loaded into your travel tote, the tightness in your stomach had subsided. 

It was a cool night, a gentle breeze blowing the loose strands of hair around your face and tickling your cheek as you walked the familiar path to the park in front of the hospital. You’d forgone packing things into your car, unsure if the traffic would still be busy near the hospital. You hadn’t texted ahead, deviating from your typical routine. You knew that they were likely too busy to check their phones, if service was even working again after the barrage of worried calls and texts had tanked it earlier in the evening. 

The benches were empty, but it hardly phased you, you’d beaten them there plenty of times. And worse case scenario, most of the security knew you well enough to let you sneak into the Pitt through the back and dump your offerings in the break room before trucking home. You unpacked your bag, setting out the tupperware along with some small plates and napkins. You’d left drinks behind, knowing that someone was likely already making a run for a pack of beers. You tucked the strands of hair behind your ear, settling in for a bit. 

It didn’t take long, fifteen minutes or so before Donnie and Princess arrived, rolling the cooler behind them. They waved in greeting, planting themselves on the bench across from you and digging out two beers. You smiled softly, before grabbing a brownie and one of the pies and walking them over. 

“You sure you’re not an angel?” Donnie asked, grinning. 

“Laying it on thick today?” you laughed. 

“It’s the only way I know how,” he hit you with a charming smile that lacked any real commitment. You held back your instinct to ask after his wellbeing, knowing full well that he is not doing well after the day you imagined he had. 

You and Princess gossiped about the latest episode of the reality show you were both shamelessly addicted to, and you did your best not to dodge their compliments on the baked goods, knowing they would report back to Michael. Or rather, Dr. Robby. 

You’d met him only once before getting properly acquainted after an accident at the bakery had required you to hurry to the nearest hospital. But, he’d given you his first name when placing the order for his latte, so Michael he remained. 

You did you best not to ask about the shift knowing that it had to have been a nightmare. Instead, you contented yourself to sitting and listening to them chatter, the time passing surprisingly quickly. 

Just as you were starting to feel silly, playing with the edge of the wax paper lining the tupperware with the brownies and chastising yourself for getting your hopes up, a set of footsteps broke through the mess of worry in your brain. Michael had clearly had a hard shift, his shoulders dropping, head hung low and his eyes were dark. You’d been right to come. Jack seemed to be in somewhat better spirits beside him, but he was battle weary even to your untrained eyes. 

Michael’s eyes bet yours, his eyebrows creeping up towards his hairline, head tilting in question. “I saw…” you hesitated, unsure of how much to say. “What happened today. Figured you could use a pick me up.” You’d already added a few of the brown butter chocolate chip cookies to a plate, handing them to Michael wordlessly. He took a seat on your side unlittered with tupperware, and you did your best to control your rapidly beating heart. “Jack?” you questioned, motioning to the assorted baked goods on your left. 

“Well if you insist,” he laughed, working his pant leg up to free himself of his prosthetic. “Can’t turn you down.” You smiled, adding a bit of everything to a little plate and walking it over to him. 

You sat back down next to Michael, insisting to yourself that the heat radiating off his arm stretched across the back of the bench was in no way related to the flip in your stomach. The others chatted amongst themselves, making light of the day. You chanced a glance his way, holding in a giggle when you noticed the couple of crumbs clinging to the side of his mouth. Your fingers twitched to brush them away, but he managed to beat you to it. “Tough day?” he asked, surveying the plethora of baked goods taking up the rest of the bench. 

“Just worried.” you shrug, not meeting his eyes. “Hate feeling like I can’t do anything worthwhile to help.” The ‘not like you can’ was unspoken. 

Michael cast his glance across the clearing, where his coworkers were smiling and making a considerable dent in your sweets. He didn’t argue with you, knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference, especially on a day like today. “You had one of these yet?” he asked, holding up one of the cookies. You shook your head. “You should, they’re working miracles.” 

You blinked at him, your heart picking up speed. You searched his eyes, trying to figure out if he did that on purpose, when a few more people joined your circle. “Samira!” you jumped up, reaching for her. She gripped you tight, sinking against you for the duration of the hug. Samira stopped by the bakery frequently on her way to work, taking advantage of the early hours you kept with the morning shift at the hospital in mind. “If I’d known you were going to be here, I would have made a couple batches of those muffins you like.”

She laughed, head tilted back and eyes light in a way you wouldn’t have imagined was possible after the shift she just finished. “You didn’t have to bring anything, I’m glad you’re here.” she paused for a moment, her gaze shifting behind you for a moment. You craned your neck to find Michael watching the two of your carefully, something different in his expression. “This is Victoria, today was her first day,” Samira gestured behind her to the girl who was standing with her hands clasped in front of her, looking shy. 

“Oh! It’s so nice to meet you!” You gave her a warm smile, squeezing her arm gently before turning and placing a few things on a plate for her and another for Matteo. “Here, to soothe your soul.” She took the plate gratefully, Matteo as well. 

“Thank you that’s really-” she was cut off by loud, full laughter from behind. Your head whipped around, finding Michael with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said through his laughter. “I just realized this was your first day.” Everyone quickly burst into various degrees of laughter. Victoria met your eyes, assessing your reaction. You did your best to shrug in a way that said ‘I’m used to this by now’ and you realized that was the truth. You had known Michael for a little over a year, and had slowly integrated into the culture of the ED. You weren’t one of them, but you belonged. These were your people. 

“That’s trial by fire, baby” Jack said, raising his can in Victoria’s direction. 

“I can almost guarantee the next one will be easier.” Michael said, and you were reminded that he was not just a kind man who stopped in on his way to work most days. He was a mentor, a teacher and someone that changed lives. 

“I really fucking hope so.” Victoria looked weary, but not defeated. You felt she would be back. 

Donnie was saying something to her, but you didn’t hear. “It’s late.” Michael said, leaning close enough for his shoulder to bump yours. You nod, leaning in as well. “You ready to go?” you nodded again, fighting back a yawn that was bubbling to the surface. He nodded, shouldering his backpack and standing up. 

“Last call!” You announced, grabbing a couple of containers and offering second helpings around. A smile took over when everyone accepted the extras. You deposited the container of pies in Princess’s lap, laughing when she promised she would get the container back to you. “You don’t have to lie to me of all people, you know.” 

“I don’t even know why I try.” she laughed, squeezing your hand. 

“It’s nice that you do,” you insisted. You packed as many empty containers as you could into your tote, and Michael grabbed the few remaining. You gave everyone a gentle wave before turning on your heel and starting towards the bakery. You could hear Michael saying his goodbyes but you continued on, confident that he would fall into step beside you. 

After a few moment, you felt him reach for the tote bag you had slung over your shoulder. “Keep dreaming, Robinavitch. I don’t let you carry my stuff on a good day.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

“You underestimate me,” you say, assessing him now that you’re alone. He is still clearly exhausted, weighed down by the reality of his day. But he looks okay. Definitely better than when he’d trudged into the park across from the hospital. 

“Never.” and you knew he was right. You looped your arm through his, pulling him tight against your side. The two of you made your way back to the bakery in relative silence, taking comfort in the fact that the other is okay. He waited for you to unlock to door before pulling it open for you. You slipped inside, Michael following you to the kitchen. You moved in sync, putting things into the dishwasher, the few bits of leftover brownies into one of the fridges. 

Once things were put away, you leaned against the counter, giving him a once over. “You’re not subtle.” he mutters.

You laugh, folding in half with the force. “I don’t know what you mean.” But you do know what he means. You were worried, you showed up with baked goods to mask the fact you were checking on him. it wasn't the first time and it won't be the last.

“I’m okay. Today was rough, but I’m…” he paused, taking a shaky breath. “I’m better now. Jack helped, you helped.” 

You took a step towards him, hesitating, waiting for him to turn away or cross his arms or any other sign that he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want you. It doesn’t come. Another step, another pause. And then you can’t take it anymore and you are pressed against him, his hands tight around your back. 

Your breaths even out, sync up and the rest of the day feels distant. You’re safe, he’s safe and the rest can wait until tomorrow.

[noahwhyle]

Robby | 1.15 + text posts

[thepencilnerd]

"Tomorrow is another day."

The Pitt 1×01 | 1×15 parallels

gif version here

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: So, I kept telling myself I wasn’t going to do this, but honestly, I’m such a sl*t for Noah Wyle and older men. I also kept running into there being just hardly any fics in general for this amazing show and so…here I am. Attempting to create my version with an OC that does have a last name (it's for the doctor purposes but also I hate that whole y/n, y/l/n stuff, ok? It just throws my ass off and throws me out of a story) and follows along with the episodes of the show. Idk how this will go or be received but I’m here wrecking myself. Much Love

Shout out to @viridian-dagger for looking this over for me and hyping me up when I feel like my shit is trash. I Love you. Also, thanks to @strangergraphics for the cute little divider.

Word Count: 3259

Next I

7:00 AM

“No, absolutely not. Ask someone else.”

The break room was the perfect place for Gloria’s early morning ambush. You’d barely pushed in the numbers on the keypad, the door swinging open when your gaze homed in on her position leaning against the small kitchenette. The words blurted out from a place deeply seeded in not being ready for her or the administration's early morning bullshit. You hadn’t even got to enjoy your coffee yet. 

You’d turned on your heel and raced back out the door in what could’ve been record time. Your hand tried to steady the sloshing of your coffee as you could feel Gloria hot on your heels. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You’re right - I don’t. However, seeing you this early, Gloria is not a good omen for starting my day.”

There was nowhere in the entire trauma center that you could go to get away from her and, knowing Gloria, she wasn’t going to make it easy for you. Realistically, you understood that Gloria was just another cog in the corporate machine. She rode your ass - and every other medical professional in the system from doctors during residency to technicians and CNAs - because it’s what the big bad CEOs demanded. The hospital functioned on efficiency facilitated by money and if too many bad Yelp reviews arrived it systematically hurt numbers. Bad numbers equaled a bad flow of funds. 

Gloria no doubt listened to her bosses during an early morning meeting where they rattled off complaint after complaint that dealt with a showcase of data and numbers. Both, of which, the board constantly claimed, showed the true efficiency of the hospital - not the life-saving measures taken to keep people alive. No doubt its main focus rested on the emergency department downstairs, because, once again, Yelp reviews of massive wait times and poor satisfaction scores outweighed the expertise of attending doctors. 

You didn’t envy Gloria’s position of being hated for being said cog in the corporate machine. Her job focused on relaying the demands from the top. Gloria was forever the bad guy to staff whenever they noticed her no-nonsense demeanor coming towards them. It was hard to be sympathetic to her plight when she followed you around like a bloodhound. The woman was relentless.

“The board would like to see if applying additional support down in the emergency department would help alleviate time issues that are keeping patient satisfaction at a tremendous low.” 

Absolutely not. 

You would rather chew your arm off than be sent down there. Your retreat came to a halt as you turned to face her. There weren't too many places inside the hospital you could go, and you were willing to bet Gloria was willing to follow you anywhere until you conceded. Plus, you came to a full stop in front of the elevator, and no matter how much you’d like to magically teleport yourself inside of it, unfortunately, you were mortal and would just have to wait.

Gloria’s hands were interlocked in front of her middle - eyes drilling miniature holes in you that not that long ago used to make you squirm. That was back when you were just starting your internship - eager back then to make a great first impression. Terrified of being reprimanded for making an unpopular decision or speaking your mind. 

“Gloria, I’m in family medicine.”

“Last time I checked you started in the emergency department and helped out in intensive care.”

“Yes, great memory, Gloria. If you also recall, I moved to family medicine where I’ve been for the last couple of years.”

The transfer to family medicine was a hard pill to swallow. You’d grown accustomed to the craziness of the ER. The constant adrenaline rush that required you to always bring your A game. Where the anxiety was at an all-time maxed-out high where a simple mistake cost lives but a quick deduction could save them. Once you’d moved upstairs to help out Dr. Nave’s family practice, it’d been a huge adjustment. Eventually, once your body got used to the monotony of the days, you found you were finally able to sleep. To be semi-normal. 

There was no denying, however, that you left something important behind in The Pitt. Something you hoped you could leave there inside its sterile rooms and the overwhelming storm of emotions.  

“I’m not asking you to go back down there to answer every trauma call. I’m asking you to take your family medicine knowledge downstairs to help assess triage for minor issues -“

“You mean people who come in for chest colds,” you interrupted. 

“ - and help the senior doctors clear out these cases so they can focus on more immediate health care concerns.”

Gloria’s words crushed your small outburst and bore down on your shoulders, keeping you from trying to move away. Her hands were now connected at her elbows, which was her silent way of informing you she didn’t appreciate you trying to talk over her. That no would never be an acceptable answer. 

You felt the drag of your teeth against your cheek. The temptation to bite down to relieve your growing irritation was overwhelming but futile. No matter what argument you came up with, you knew Gloria was here to make sure what the board requested was done. 

Instead of bloodshed, you eased your frustration out inch by inch through your nose. Your eyes scanned over the shitty egg wash walls while you debated all of your available options, which were a big fat none. 

“How long?”

Gloria didn’t need clarification on what you were asking. The way she practically preened like a peacock let you know she knew she’d won. 

“As long as the board requires it.”

“I’ll do it just for today,” you interjected, ignoring her raised brow. “Today you can see if pulling me from Nave’s floor makes your charts or numbers move or whatever data it is you all look at. If it does nothing, today is my first and last day going down.”

Gloria considered your counterargument. The sharpness in her eyes brightened; the terms of this new agreement were revised without you knowing the new verbiage. The only thing you were sure of was that you could count on this small verbal agreement being drawn out in document form for you to sign later.  

“Alright, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got a deal. I’m sure the board will agree. Now come on. If we walk down fast enough maybe, you’ll make it in time for shift change.”

She didn’t wait to see if you were going to follow. Why would she when Gloria knew very well you weren’t going to fight it, especially when the main reason for your denial currently wouldn’t be working today. 

Anniversaries were never really Robby’s thing.

You would never admit it, but your anxiety was fifteen feet away from grabbing you in a chokehold. 

Get a fucking grip.

It had been two years since you left the ER. Two years since Robby and you had called time on seven years together. Seven years of memories filled with all the good and bad, co-parenting Jake, and keeping your relationship secret until it wasn’t. The early years of walking to work together with quick kisses goodbye before you split up just before you turned onto the final street to the hospital. The both of you choose different entrances each time to try and not raise suspicion. 

It took Dana four days to figure out the two of you were together.

Dana was perceptive like that. Hell, she’d been the angel on your shoulder whispering hints that Robby just might like you as much as you liked him. 

“I told him to ask you out to dinner. He thinks you’ll say no.” “If he did ask, I should say no,” you countered.  Your eyes struggle to stay trained on the chart in front of you.  “Yeah, but I know you’ll say yes.” “And what makes you so sure about that, Dana?” “Because if you don’t stop giving each other googly eyes from across my nursing station I’m going to throttle you both.”

Robby had only been divorced from his wife for less than a year. You’d overheard snippets of conversations between Robby and Abbot, Dana, or Adamson about custody battles and visitations. The last thing you wanted to do was be a possible added stress to an already stressful situation. At least, that was the bullshit you kept telling yourself to try and stay away.

But Dana was right (she usually was, but you’d never tell her that). 

You couldn’t pinpoint a specific time when things started to change between the two of you. The coffee breaks on the roof looking out over the top of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The jokes that caused smiles to crest over his face, rivaled the glow from the sun's early morning rays. He told you later, in the med closet, how the sound of your laughter was something he looked forward to hearing; the warmth of it was enough to keep helping him make it through his shift. A sound he began to crave in the quiet corners of his home. You could still remember the phone calls and early texts. The caution and heavy breaths that harbored a desire that longed to reach out and consume the other. The two of you were equally afraid to be the one to take that first step over the bounds of professionalism. 

The two of you knew the dangers of playing with lingering touches and knowing glances. The way you both acted like you wouldn’t ultimately end up burned. You could still recall the way he’d traced his thumb across your lips. The possessive way his eyes followed the motion made the desire for him to close that space, to claim you, to take you, threatened to make you lose all self-control.

Eventually, you stopped listening to the warning signs of all the what ifs; of being the intern and worrying about how it would make you look. When Robby asked you out on that date you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

You didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with someone the way you did with Robby. He was so attentive; he was thoughtful in the most pragmatic ways - packing extra scrubs in your pack. Teaching you how to fish and the differences between the lures and bait. The way he took the time to explain the objects he carved from wood and how much pressure was necessary to create the grooves and pattern. The way his voice would sound as he read to you; the soothing vibrations of his baritone the safest place you could be with his fingers in your hair.

He carved out a life that made it possible for all three of you to co-exist. His son, Jake, becomes the deepest interwoven part of your life you never realized was missing. On days Robby had him, you planned camping trips up in the mountains to hike and fish. To go on museum trips into Jake’s latest hobbies with the two of you making sure to have his game day off to cheer embarrassingly loud for him in the stands. The shared looks of pain from beside each other on the couch while Jake practiced his clarinet upstairs when he thought he wanted to be in the school band. You got lost in furniture manuals, cooking dinners that ended a few times with questionable outcomes, and attempting to bake tarts and pies that led to a one-time usage of the fire extinguisher. The euphoria of loving someone and being loved so fiercely in return made the years feel weightless, and when Robby finally proposed it made so much sense to say yes. 

And COVID happened. 

The quarantine and the endless amounts of patients that just kept coming - that felt like, no matter what you did, they couldn’t be saved. Family and friends, you both knew were ravaged by the infection. There were no answers. No medical treatments that you knew for sure would be what would save them. It didn’t discriminate and took lives without mercy. You just came to work every day, exhausted, and fighting to do what you could to heal those you could. You showed up every day for your patients.

Then Adamson passed. 

There was no denying Robby blamed himself for what occurred with his mentor. It didn’t matter what you said. What Dana, Abbot, or anyone else said. The guilt weighed down on his conscience, pressed so violently, that eventually, Robby cracked under the strain. His grief was all-encompassing and the added loss that should’ve been experienced together, was left for only you to bear - widening the gap between you until it became a chasm. 

The last time you’d seen Robby he’d been leaving to go to work. The latest fight - the endless bitter silences that stretched on - tore at the fabric of your being. Fractured pieces you didn’t know how to pick up on your own no longer felt worth fighting for. So, you decided to remove yourself from the equation. 

When Robby came home from work that night you were already gone. Your engagement ring and house key sitting on a note that asked him not to contact you. He’d made it clear enough that there was no place for you in the new person that he was becoming - made it clear that your grief would be processed alone. 

And so that was how you ended up transferring to family medicine. How you made sure to steer clear of all the places Robby was known to frequent. You ignored, as politely as you could, texts from Dana. Refused to talk about him in a work capacity or to close friends. 

The truth was that you were still in love with Robby after all this time. The idea that someone else could ever make you feel as whole - as complete - didn’t exist. So, yes, you only agreed to come back down to the emergency department, where it all started, because you comfortably knew he wouldn’t be here. Dana, you could deal with her by using a little recon - you just needed to stay two steps ahead of her. Langdon was easier to deal with because his loyalty to Robby was absolute, which made you public enemy number one. For you, that meant he’d stay away from you on principle. 

You were in the middle of shoving down the growing dread that was threatening to spill out of you when you came around the north hall triage. It was morning rounds. It was the attending's job to give the early morning pep-talk, debrief about patients who came in last shift, and go over the board. What you found waiting for you was what looked very much like a fresh batch of interns and/or med students taking instructions from a doctor you knew painfully well. One that made you question if it was too late to back out and turn tail and run. 

“Oh, shit.” Dana huffed the words under her breath, but Robby caught them. The way each one dripped in a warning he should’ve heeded. “Gloria -” 

It didn’t surprise him to hear she was here. He’d been warned by Dana but what Robby hadn’t expected was to see you - you - standing beside her. 

You who he thought completely disappeared to the point you’d quit the hospital. You, who he thought of in the most inconvenient of times, who haunted him, and you who he wanted to fucking scream and curse at you but also ask how the fuck you’re doing because Jesus Christ…

He didn’t need this shit today.

At least you had the decency to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Good morning, Dr. Robby. I’m aware you and most of your emergency department know Dr. Fullerton. She used to work down here previously a few years back.”

“You could say that again,” Langdon muttered.

“I’m sorry why are you bringing a random fucking doctor down into The Pitt?”

The annoyance contrasted with the peaceful professionalism Gloria tried to hold together. But if she was going to bring random doctors down here, God, bring you fucking down here, he was damn sure going to make her work for it. Inch by irritating inch.

“We both know that Dr. Fullerton is not a hospital resident or an attending transfer. As previously stated, she worked down here in this very ED, with you no less. She also holds one of the highest Press Ganey scores in this hospital.”

“I’m sure she’s very proud,” his words ground out like he’d swallowed gravel.

Gloria shot him a warning look as she continued, “-Something I figure she could teach the new students and old physicians here. I’m bringing her down to assist Dr. McKay today in triage.”

“Let me guess - this either has to deal with the hospital's numbers or lack of working bodies down here. Am I right?”

“What a fantastic guess, Robby. It does indeed have to do with the hospitals' numbers and poor patient output. Based on those numbers alone today, if it shows Dr. Fullerton’s presence helps patient satisfaction go up and wait times decrease - even in the slightest - she’ll be staying here. Permanently.”

His jaw ticked violently. He wanted to bristle and tell her where to stick her metrics and numbers. To tell Gloria to get you the fuck out of his Pitt. Somewhere in his brain, his common sense slowly won out. It didn’t matter how much of a fit he threw; Gloria had every intention of making you stay. Down here. With him. 

Robby also knew, realistically, that the chances of you driving up productivity were high. You were a damn good doctor. One of the best. Adamson had made sure. Christ, Robby himself made sure. Fuck. The edges of his vision were beginning to tighten in glaring white; he needed to get away before he succumbed to a panic attack. 

He should’ve kept looking away, but he was fighting a losing battle trying to keep his eyes away from you. It’d been nearly two years since he came home to find you gone. Two years for him to think of the hundreds of thousands of questions that he would demand for you to answer if he ever saw you again. All those months of burying it all down, telling himself he got what he wanted, only for it to be dredged up, and on a day like today, he was already close to his breaking point.

You looked good. Great, even. Just as gorgeous as the first day he’d met you and begrudgingly, for a split second, he wondered how you saw him. If you were equally as fucked as he was.

“Make sure she stays with you up in triage, Dr. McKay. I don’t want to see her in my red zone.”

He didn’t wait to hear confirmation from Gloria or McKay. He didn’t bother to see if you understood he meant every word he said. You had no place down here. Robby needed to start his shift - to start the normalcy of seeing patients - before he completely forgot why he chose to come into work today. 

He needed to get away before all his resolve shattered. The easiest way to keep himself whole was to begin his day. To do his rounds and when he passed you, he did his best to pretend you didn’t even exist.

___________

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! Much love.

[abbotsanatomy]

season 2, probably:

we have the pitt season 2 at home, kids.

bonus:

[sankta-wraith]

Yeah your ship is good, but did one of them literally have to be absent from an episode because the writers were afraid she'd be able to reach him while he had a breakdown?

[drmellking]

the pitt + ao3 tags pt.2

[xximperioxx]

Peace

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: spoilers?, depression, anxiety , swearing, pregnancy mention, suicidal tendencies,

Notes: not beta read (thats too scary for me) I literally wrote this at 3 in the morning and I just want to give this man a hug. Obviously inspired by Peace by Taylor Swift.

————————————————————

You didn’t need to ask where Robby, your attending, was. You already know he slipped to the roof before anyone could see him. Hiding your “secret” relationship has never been harder than today. There was nothing more you wanted than to be able to hold and support him as you saw him cry and breakdown. People who were close to you knew of your relationship but neither of you acted upon it in public. More specifically at work.

You find him looking down at the city below him.

“If you jump, I’ll find a way to save you and then kill you myself.”

He turns his head to see you. He sighs, “Don’t.”

You sit yourself into the railing and swing your legs over, your arms balancing you as you look out at the lights of the city.

“I came here to be alone.” He mumbled.

You glance at him, “Well, I came here to be with you.” He sighs.

The two of you sit in silence for a while. Robby finds himself taking a step closer to the edge, looking down. He could never jump off but the thought is always there. It’s lingering as if taunting him that he could finally catch a break. He continues to blink away tears.

You finally speak up, “I am so proud of you.”

Robby scoffs and looks away. You slide off the railing, now leaning against it.

“I’m serious, Michael.” He looks at you when he hears his first name. “You are the strongest person I know.”

Your heart breaks when you hear him sniffle. You had been by his side for the majority of his breakdowns but this was the one the worst you’ve seen. Normally you had been in either your or his apartment when he needed you to calm you down. Since Adamson’s death the breakdowns had been frequent.

He stifles out a sob, “I-I broke and-and I shut down.”

You reach for him, guiding him to lean against the railing with you, “Michael. You’re allowed to be vulnerable at work. It’s not you being weak.”

“People n-needed me and I let them down.” He quickly wipes his tears away.

“If you ask anyone down there, they would all tell you the same thing. You are the glue that keeps us together as a team. You reach out and intertwine your hands.

“You’re our rock,” you pause, “And rocks will break down and wear away because of what comes their way but regardless, they are always strong.”

Robby lets his body droop and his head falls into your chest while shaking, trying to stop his tears. He leans his ear against your chest to focus on your heartbeat. You don’t realize you’re crying until you notice the specks of tears splattered on your glasses which are foggy from condensation.

You lean your head against his. You hold him in silence. The both of you occasionally sniffled, finally beginning to calm down.

“I will continue to love you even if you’re a pebble.”

“Stop comparing me to a rock.” His voice muffled from your chest.

You let out a small laugh. He slowly pulls away from you. The two of you stare at each other, taking in tired and bloodshot eyes. You softly wipe his tears away. Your hands linger on his face, gently holding it. He reaches up and puts his hand on yours.

Robby’s voice cracks, “W-What if I can never give you peace? The peace that comes with life you want with me,” he pauses. Pressing his lips together hoping to prevent himself from crying again, “I-I don’t know if I could ever give that to you.”

You shake your head trying to ignore what he was saying. You had discussed it–both of your hopes and dreams. A family, a house, a wedding. A future together.

You wanted to laugh and tell him it was too late for that. To kiss him and tell him the news but you knew the time wasn’t right. Your future already future growing inside of you.

“I will be by your side no matter what. Even if you decide you don’t want to do this,” you gesture to the hospital, “anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinks away more tears. “I love you.” He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss on it.

You reach up and give him a soft kiss. The kiss was salty but neither of you minded. “In every lifetime. It’s you and me. Forever.”

Neither of you hear Abbot approach you until he clears his throat. “You guys could have waited until you were off the clock.”

You pull away from your boyfriend with a roll of your eyes.

“You always gotta complain about something, Jack.” You joke.

Robby lets out a sad laugh before he turns away looking back at the city. Abbot gives you a look, silently asking if he can help. You give him a nod.

You give Robby’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll meet you downstairs, ok?” He nods.

Ducking under the railing, you walk up to Abbot and place your hand on his shoulder, “Let me know if you guys need me.” He nods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find yourself walking ahead of the two attendings, letting them talk amongst themselves. You knew that if anyone knew what Robby was going through it would be Abbot.

The voices and laughs of your coworkers catch your attention as you walk into the park. You see Donnie and Princess with a large cooler sitting at the benches. “Well well well, look what we have here,”

The two of them raised their beers in greeting you. You sit down on the bench with a tired sigh, waiting for Abbot and Robby.

Donnie holds up a beer, offering you one. “You want one?” You shake your head no in response.

Your boyfriend drops his backpack on the ground as Abbot takes a seat with a groan.

Donnie grabs two beers, tossing one to Robby and Abbot. Robby catches his with ease, cracking it open before squeezing down next in your bench space.

Abbot fails to catch his beer. He bends down to pick it up. “Nice catch,” Robby jokes at the same time you say, “That was sad,” with a laugh. Abbot reaches over and gives a whack to the back of your head.

“To the Pitt crew,” Donnie raises his drink.

“To the people we saved,” Princess added.

“And the ones we couldn’t.” Abbot concludes. You feel Robby put his hand on your thigh. You hide your surprise. You give him a smile and a gentle squeeze.

“Here, here.” The group of you toast.

Robby takes a few sips of his now almost empty beer. He gestures to you, offering a drink. You shake your head. He looks at you with concern and you give him a reassuring look, mumbling something about not feeling too well and it’s probably just a headache.

Mateo, Mohan, and Javadi greet the group with smiles and Donnie hands out more beers. You rest your eyes as the group makes small talk.

Robby’s sudden laugh jolts you. You give him a nudge and he looks at you with a sorry grin. He rubs a hand over his face still laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mohan questions as her and Javadi look at each other concerned.

Robby sits up, “I just realized it’s your first shift.”

The intern nods.

“I’m so sorry it was a shit first day.” You feel bad for the girl. Javadi gives you a meek smile.

“I’m not,” Abbot interjects, “That was baptism by fire, baby.” He lifts his drink up.

“I can pretty much guarantee you the next one will be easier.” Robby tries to be reassuring.

You nod in agreement before speaking up, “I promise you it’s not always as bad as today was.”

“I really fucking hope so.” She jokes but you can tell she means it.

Before anyone could say anything, sirens echoed through the park. Your anxiety spikes and the group all turns to see what’s happening. Robby tenses up at the sounds and stands up. He knew he couldn’t stay longer. He looks down at you. “Well, I’m going to call it a night. Please, everyone get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day.”

You stand up with him, “I'm gonna head out too,” you give everyone a smile, “Have a good night everyone.”

A bunch of good nights and smiles were given in return.

“I’ll walk you home,” Robby says in front of the group to you. You nod knowing you’re probably just going to his place. He grabs one more beer for the walk.

The two of you began walking to his place. Robby reaches for your hand as you walk into the night. The two of you enjoy the silence, listening to the sounds of the city.

As the two of you reach the end of the park, Robby speaks up, “You sure you’re feeling ok?”

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow, “You’re asking me that?” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Normally you have a beer or two at the end of the night.”

Your feet come to a stop and Robby looks at you. He has a concerned look and you debate on just letting it out.

“Is it a bad time to say I’m pregnant?” You blurt out with a nervous laugh looking up at him.

His eyes widen. You begin to panic, blabbing out apologies.

He cuts you off, “Are you serious? Like you’re not joking right now?”

You shake your head and continue to babble, “I’ve known for a few weeks now. I’m about 11 weeks I think. I-I just didn’t know when to tell you.”

For the second time that night, Robby drops his backpack. With the biggest grin, he lifts you off your feet causing you to squeal in surprise.

He lets you back down before cupping your face and giving you a heated kiss. You hold onto him as you kiss back him immediately.

You smile into the kiss before pulling away, sudden tears filling your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He kisses your tears away, before looking down at your stomach. He gently places his hand on it and smiles. “I love you too.”

You lean up and give him another kiss, “I don’t need peace, I just need you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re totally together, right?” Princess asks the group but it’s pointed at Abbot.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Abbot says with a smirk before taking a sip of his beer.

[valentinevirgo]

I HAVE A PROPOSAL

you get: medically accurate fanfic of your favorite pitt characters

i get: to use it as a way to study for my nursing final

DO WE HAVE A DEAL ??

[lucis-dove]

𝖣𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝖺 {1}

summary; 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖨𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅. 𝖡𝗎𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽-𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾…

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

rating: 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾

chapter no: 1/2

wc; 8.1𝗄

tags/warnings; 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝖼 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖾-𝗀𝖺𝗉, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗁𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗈𝗍, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝖻𝖼 𝗐𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍

Author; @lucis-dove

a/n: 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 @oldermenfucker 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝖩𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖲𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝖨 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗉

"I'm out. The mess is all yours." 

That's the single thing Jack receives as a goodbye when Robby walks past him by the nurse station. His backpack is already slung over his shoulders, AirPods just being pushed into his ears to close out the world.

Jack follows him until he walks through the door into the waiting room. He hadn't run into Robby as he arrived nor by the lockers as he put away his stuff. So, the hasty goodbye is unexpected.

His gaze shifts back when another figure joins him. 

Samira stands before him, still in her scrubs, even though the day shift officially ended half an hour ago. Her hair is frizzier at the temples, as it usually is after twelve hours.

"Did something happen?" Jack notches his chin the way Robby had headed not long ago.

She shakes her head only to end up in a shrug. "Apart from Gloria being on his ass almost every time I ran into him today, I would say no."

Jack's brows furrow, glancing at the doors leading to the waiting room.

"Has he been like that the whole shift?" His eyes track back to Samira. 

She tilts her head sideways, brows raising only to fall just as quickly. "Snappy? Yeah, with everyone. That's why I've waited to get my stuff."

An exhale rushes from Jack's lungs, the sigh harsh as his eyes drop to the iPad. "He isn't going to be any better tomorrow."

"No?"

"No," he confirms as he looks up at her. Whatever hopeful light in her eyes flickers out as she realises a night's sleep won't considerably change the older attending's mood. 

"Has anything happened?" She nods in the direction they both last saw him. 

Although Robby was her attending, Samira didn't know him personally. Yes, she had been told things about him since getting to know Jack better, but she still didn't consider herself a friend of his friend. He was still her boss, as far as she and Robby would put it.

"Nothing, and that's the problem," Jack's attention once more falls to reviewing the details from the day-shift. "He bounces back and forth between the Pitt and his apartment."

Samira understands what's not said outright but implied. She'd experienced a similar lack of any social life up until a handful of months ago. 

Friends, first and foremost, had been scarce. The ones she received during medical school were the only ones that came to mind at the time. Relationships? Dating? Yeah, that had been non-existent. She remembers the desperation, even if it flickered out quickly, that pushed her to once download the dating app one of her few friends suggested.

"I have an idea, and tell me if it's awful or not." Jack's eyes shift upwards, seeing her with her phone now in hand. After some fiddling, she shows him the screen.

His eyebrows pull together, gaze dropping only to sharply flicker to meet her's again. "He would never download that himself."

"You never answered if it's a bad idea." Her smile is tentative as she waits.

"He would think it's awful."

"It's awful when you do it yourself, talking from experience." 

Jack cocks his head, chin tipping upwards. "You've used it?"

"I deleted it after a month." She's smiling as she explains, not at the look he sends her but that her idea still hasn't been outright rejected. She pulls the attention from her back to the topic at hand with a slight shake of the phone. "So?"

Jack rolled his head, staring at the screen.

Robby would hate the idea with venom. Partly because this was the negative side of digitalisation and partly because he would never admit that he wanted, needed, anyone. A partner was the last he would mention, even if someone threatened him under gunpoint.

His eyes shift to meet Samira's brown ones, "I'm letting you be in charge of this."

"I'm happy to be if he lays off on his hounding." Her smile has widened, bringing out the dimples on her cheeks. She pockets her phone. "Send me whatever pictures you have of him or the two of you."

Jack nods, "Update me when you're done."

"Oh, you'll get the giddy messages once I start swiping."

He sends her an amused look. "Don't have too much fun." 

"Don't worry." Her look softens as she continues. "See you at shift-change?"

"'Course," the edge of Jack's mouth tugs upwards but is pulled into a line as the commotion from the ambulance bay catches his attention. He's quick to move but still manages a soft touch against Samira's arm as he passes her.

Even if Jack wasn't glued to his phone like Samira that night, she sent him the updates he'd requested.

─He's popular

─I don't know how I feel flirting with women who find my boss sexy

─Don't mind me, desperate women are entertaining

─Oh wait, I think she could be something

It was after Samira sent the pictures from your profile she received the first reply to any of her messages. The notification from Jack brought her out of the conversation with you, the only one she'd found herself jumping back to answer the messages from between swiping.

She's younger than him─

─But much better at actually holding a conversation compared to many who is his age

─And I guessed he maybe had the same taste for a younger partner, like you

Very funny─

─I know, right, I am

─Should I ask her out?

Are you ready to work with him tomorrow if you do?─

─I'll let you mention it, spare me the worst of his blowup

How generous─

Much like Jack had predicted, Robby's mood hadn't changed overnight. 

He still arrived with a polite smile sent to those he passed in the morning, but his sighs ─followed by a hand rubbing the side of his face─ began even before lunchtime. If anything, it felt like each time Samira was close to him, his attitude worsened even further, her good mood doing the opposite of cheering him up.

And it was all because you'd agreed to a date with Robby. 

Samira had asked you yesterday. Waiting with bated breath for your answer, as if she was the one who would meet up with you. Then, when the reply finally came, a short and sweet I would love to, she jumped from her couch with an excited gasp.

Jack already knew. She'd told him yesterday with a quick text. However, he didn't receive the full update until they met by the lockers this morning and were able to read the entire conversation. Throughout, his mouth had twitched until he looked up, unable to fend off his smile any longer as he handed back the phone.

Then and there, they decided to stick with the plan and inform Robby when the day shift traded with the night shift. Not only to spare Samira from Robby's ire but for Jack to also be well-rested when he broke the news. And the confrontation was getting closer.

The night shift had rolled in, the patient rounds with quick briefings were done, and while Jack didn't do the same huddle Robby did in the mornings, he stood in the same place, waiting.

He busied himself with the iPad, at least wanting it to appear that way. But those who paid close enough attention would notice his eyes flicked up at each day-shifter who emerged from the hall leading to the lockers. While it dropped back down in between, the iPad in his hand was forgotten the second the person he was waiting for appeared.

"We'll hold it down while you're off," Jack says as Robby walks up to him. 

"Good," he claps him on the shoulder. "Text if something comes up." 

Just as he turns, Jack speaks up, halting him in the middle of a step. "And don't forget your date." 

Robby freezes, turning to slowly look over his shoulder with furrowed brows.

"What did you say?" Jack meets his gaze as he presses the off button on the iPad, the screen going dark. 

"You're going on a date." 

Robby turns fully and jerks his head sideways, mouth open as he sharply dips his chin, demanding an answer through a sharply asked, "I am what?"

"You've been stressed-"

"When are we not?" He flings out his hand.

"Worse than fucking usual," Jack speaks through his teeth as he leans forwards. "So suck it up and go; we figured you needed something to take your mind off the Pitt."

"We?" Robby's eyes shift to Samira when she suddenly joins them, noticing how her lips are closer to a thin line than the smile she attempts. "Of fucking course," he laughs in disbelief, shaking his head as he looks away, hand dragging over his beard.

"I should keep you separated," he points at them individually when his eyes return to them.

Jack cocks his head. "You already do. Didn't help."

"You- it just feels like you've had a few bad days," Samira interjects, much gentler, but receives the same look of bottled-up frustration, indicated through brows pinned high and mouth open as if Robby was holding himself back.

"And this would solve it?" He asks it slowly, nodding just slightly as he does, not in agreement.

"Maybe not solve it, but take your mind off of it?" She offers hesitantly. His jaw grinds, but he doesn't manage to reply before Jack cuts in.

"It's your only hope at this point. Your workplace-approach didn't work, like for some others," Robby sends him a look, but is simply met with his unrelenting gaze. 

Samira cuts between them, attempting to diffuse the tension, "She's nice."

Dark brown eyes meet hers. Heavier and stormier than usual. "And how did you find her? Hopefully, she's not a patient?" 

Samira pulls up her phone and shows the account she'd set up for Robby on the dating app.

He takes the phone from her as she offers it, simultaneously reaching for his glasses. 

Inspecting the profile, he's met with candid photos of him. In most of them, he's with Jack, but there's the occasional one where he's alone in the picture. The one he's staring at now is one where he's smiling, his eyes cast down to his beer, still dressed in his scrubs in a lowly lit place.

Only when he squints does he notice the shoulder at the edge of the picture, leading him to the conclusion that it's one Samira has of him and Jack from one of the Pitt's bar nights, but where she's cropped it to exclude the latter.

A short text is visible beneath the pictures he flickers through, and once he reads it ─Doctor who likes beer. Obviously, the taller, more handsome one who can grow a beard out of the two─ he groans.

"Christ, this is so much worse." He mutters as he hands the phone back to Samira.

"But it worked," Jack reminds him.

Robby rubs a hand over his face, scratching his neck before letting it fall, sighing heavily. "And who am I meeting?"

"That's for you to find out tomorrow," Samira answers.

His brows shoot up. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, you're off during the weekend", Jack shrugs as if it explains everything. And while Robby has a suspicion about why Saturday was chosen, he doesn't get the time to comment on it. "You're going to meet at the Italian restaurant a few blocks from yours, the new one."

"And wear something else than your scrubs; you told her the dress code is summer casual, after all." Samira pipes in with an excited smile.

"Oh, I did?"

"Yes, and she liked that you booked the restaurant and told her to meet there as well," Jack's lips are pulling hard in the corners. "She already seems to like you more than the others you've met in recent times."

Robby sends him a look, deadpan, brows set low. "I haven't seen anyone." And Jack knows that.

"Even the more reason to meet up with her." His friend shoots back.

Samira watches Jack and sighs, turning her attention to him. "She seems sweet, said she liked your smile when she swiped on you,"

"So try not to be too grumpy," Jack adds, smug voice and entertained smile not hidden.

Robby decides not to answer, only throwing up a few fingers in an attempted wave as he turns to leave. But he lets it fall halfway through, releasing another heavy exhale as he exits the Pitt.

This thing, scheme, set up, blind date, had been on Robby's mind since he went to sleep yesterday. Only to be reminded the second he woke up through Jack's text message.

Don't chicken out.

He wouldn't, Robby told himself. At least he wouldn't stand you up. You didn't deserve that just because his friends, colleagues in this instance, wanted the same for him as they shared. No, he would show up and tell you the truth to spare your and his time. You deserved that, even if he didn't know you.

That didn't explain why he never felt like he could settle throughout the day. 

He tried to watch whatever rerun shows were on TV but fiddled with the remote. Either flickering through channels or spinning it in his hand while attempting to find something worthwhile.

He caught himself checking each reflective surface he passed in the house, each time running a hand through his hair, only to drag it down his face when he realised what he was doing. After a handful of times, he decided to just take a shower to tame his unruly hair. 

And while he practised what to say when he met you, sorry for my idiot friends or something along those lines, he actually considered what shirt he should wear and which pants it could match as he rummaged through his wardrobe as it neared the time of departure.

He settled for something relaxed: jeans and a light blue jumper with a minimal pattern or weave, perhaps. He didn't really know what to call it. It wasn't too casual, but neither dressed up, fitting for the dress code he had given you.

But what he decided to wear didn't mean anything. He wouldn't stay long enough to start worrying about his appearance compared to yours.

Robby continued telling himself there was no deeper reason for his behaviour as he locked up behind him and headed towards the restaurant.

It was warm outside; no jacket was needed. Even so, he burrowed his hands in his jeans, fingers fighting for room along with his keys and phone as he tracked to the address he, rather Jack and Samira, had given you.

Not until he reached for the door to the Italian place did he actually realise, admit, he was nervous. Not for the… date but to break the news and, without a doubt, ruin your evening.

Robby exhaled harshly as he pulled the door open, cursing the couple that definitely would send him hopeful looks at shift change on Monday.

Only when the equally warm inside of the restaurant met him did Robby remember he had no idea who he was looking for. He hadn't been shown a picture, only received a name after Jack's message about not chickening out.

Unsure of what, who, to expect, he glanced around the room. 

He guessed you were here already since it was only a few minutes until the set time of the booked table. The one under his name.

The main seating area was further in and to the left, while a bar with seatings ran along the counter to his right. It was as his eyes strayed over those seats, his eyes connected with someone's.

He didn't know if it was an accident, not at first. But his attention remained, unconsciously flickering down and up, only to be met by a smile being sent to him. When a small wave followed the reestablished eye contact, it sealed the deal.

Shit, you're pretty. Really fucking pretty.

That was Robby's first realisation as he watched you slide from your stool and head over. You weren't overdressed, following a similar theme as him. But god, if you didn't look even more put-together. 

Dark blue jeans hugged your hips and waist before they fell straight. Hiding what he realised were white heels from the point peeking out from the lower hem and the rhythmic clicking he heard. Your jumper, closer to a cardigan with buttons lining the front, was tailored to fit snugly at the waist. The white fabric looked soft, dressing up the otherwise rougher fabric covering your legs. 

Nothing of your outfit gave away too much of your figure, but just enough his eyes followed it anyways. 

As your pace slowed when nearing, he saw a chain peek through where the two uppermost buttons of your top were popped open. It rested against your collarbones, dainty but glittering as it caught the light.

His eyes jumped to yours when he realised you'd stopped in front of him.

"Hi, Michael, right?" Your voice was soft, the slight smile still there as you looked at him.

He opened his mouth, preparing to tell you that this was all just a big mistake, a rouse to unkindly thank his friends for. But the words died on his tongue as your head tilted, and he noticed that your fingers never stayed still, wringing together, playing with the rings that matched your necklace.

"I haven't taken the wrong person, have I?" You question a bit awkwardly.

"Uhm, yeah- I mean, no, no, you haven't." The words rush from his mouth this time around. You breathe out an amused, verging relieved sound through your nose. "But Robby is just fine," he stretches forth his hand, which breaks up the nervous practice of spinning the ring on your index finger.

"Robby?" You question after you've shaken his hand, letting yours fall along your body again.

"My last name-"

"Hello, do you have a booking?" The voice cuts off his reply, Robby's attention falling to the man who steps up to you two.

"Ugh…" Robby notices how you look towards him, sees it in the edge of his peripheral. He swallows. Fuck, he could just say it later, not make a scene here. "Yeah, yeah, Michael Robinavitch."

"7 P.M.?" He nods even if the waiter doesn't look up from the iPad. "Perfect, follow me," he says, looking up to offer a polite smile to both of you before turning on his heel.

Robby looks towards you, brows rising when he finds you already, still, watching him. He plays it off by nodding forwards, hands leaving his pockets to motion with one of them into the restaurant, telling you to lead the way. 

Your smile reaches your eyes as it widens, turning around to follow the waiter. Robby follows two steps behind. 

"I get the nickname now." You speak to him over your shoulder, glancing backwards. Your voice wasn't hushed but slightly lower to signal you were speaking to only him.

"What?" 

"Your last name. I think I would have a hard time spelling it if you didn't sound it out." He actually finds himself releasing an amused scoff, head dipping before his gaze returns to you.

"Got tired of people calling me everything but it."

Your laugh is preceded by a smile that flashes teeth. And Robby finds himself just looking at you, eyes flickering over your features scrunched into amusement. Even as it falls slightly, just enough to offer a polite thank you to the waiter once he stops by your table ─another one as you sit down and accept the menu─ his eyes never leave you, unable to look anywhere else.

It's not until your gaze flickers to Robby that he realises he's still standing and finds himself pulling out his chair the moment he does. 

He offers an appreciative nod to the man who hands him the same two-sided menu as you received, as well as a wine list, once he's seated.

As the waiter leaves, you nod in momentary goodbye. Nothing familiar, just polite. Robby finds it charming, in some weird or deeply hidden definition of the word in a glossary. Perhaps it's due to his own work in the service sector.

When your eyes trail back, returning from the quick sweep of the restaurant ─which you took the opportunity to do after already looking up at the waiter─ they move over the drinks list in his hands on the way to the menu in yours.

Although Robby planned to explain the absurdity of the situation and let you down gently once the two of you were left alone. Perhaps offer to buy you a glass of wine to nurse while he goes home, intending to deliver a few chosen words to Jack. That's not what happens.

"Want to take a look?" Robby is quick to offer the drink list to you. 

When your eyes flicker up to him, it halts his thought that, in seconds, managed to jump from 'that was not what you were supposed to say'  to 'out of all the things you could say, you chose that.'

"Thank you, but I'm okay. Don't fancy getting tipsy," you explain, one hand gesturing aimlessly as the other keeps holding your menu.

He clears his throat as he sets the booklet down. "Lightweight?"

"Winedrunk is a real thing," you huff, but it's light and airy. Adding in your smile, Robby knows it's all said in jest.

"So, what did you have at the bar?" He remembers the empty glass you'd left behind when coming to greet him.

"A mocktail, just to occupy myself with something", you shrug. "And I'll continue down my boring path."

Robby motions to where he'd put the drink list between you. "Heard they have pretty good non-alcoholic options."

"Actually, I'm leaning towards just a soda." He nods, rapping his finger against the table, focus entirely lost on the menu he holds open in his other hand.

"What's your go-to?" 

He really didn't know what urged him to ask, but the question had already left him when Robby realised he was the one who continued the conversation.

"I'm not fussy," you settle one elbow on the table, propping your chin on it. "So surprise me." 

His brows arch, not anticipating your answer. But you don't shy away from his surprised look. Simply continue watching him with a quirk on your lips, making no move to say anything, nothing to justify or explain yourself. You hold his gaze for long enough Robby understands you are attempting to drive your point home.

He feels the edge of his lip tick upwards. Something about your subtle playfulness elicits the reaction. 

Upon his non-verbal cue, your lips pull to one side, looking like you are biting the inside of your cheek to stop your smile from growing. Although your attention returns to the menu once more, your face remains angled toward him as it's your eyes that move. 

Robby finds his eyes flickering between his menu and you repeatedly. Somewhere along the way, he gets stuck studying you. How your eyes flicker across the paper, or the way your teeth play with your lower lip as it seems you consider which dish is the most appealing.

He doesn't realise how long he's watched you, not until the waiter arrives at the side of the table once again.

Eyes directed to the same man as previously, he notices you do the same from the corner of his eye. Upon the question of whether you're ready to order, Robby answers for you both.

He feels your gaze move to him as he orders your and his drinks, asking for a bit more time concerning the food. He realised ─whilst ordering his usual bear and choosing a soda for you─ that he barely knew what was on the menu after his attention got sidetracked by you.

After the waiter leaves, Robby's eyes automatically move to you. 

When his gaze connects with yours, witnessing the smile you send his way, he certainly doesn't feel the same displeasure rise in his body as when he mentally prepared for this evening. In fact, he reciprocates it. Genuine, no faking it, like he very much thought he would've needed if he forced himself to sit through this blind date.

After that, Robby has his second realisation; he's slowly warming to the idea of being here with you. 

Yeah, one dinner can't hurt. 

While you'd been the one to swipe on Michael, Robby, you'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd walked into the restaurant. 

He looked the same as his pictures, which certainly wasn't always the case. You dared to say he looked even better when you got closer to him. 

Maybe it was due to how he carried himself. You knew how tall he was from the app, but he felt taller in person. Even with your heels, you needed to angle your chin to properly look into his eyes. 

Or perhaps it was those brown eyes. Yeah, they were just as pretty in person as they'd been through the screen. If anything, you had a hard time looking anywhere but them as you fell into a conversation after receiving your drinks and ordering your food. 

They looked perpetually dark, bottomless ─but not emotionless─ in the restaurant's dimmed light. It was easy to get lost in them, far too easy.

"So, how did you hear of this place?" You ask him. He's gotten more comfortable in his seat, leaning against the back. 

"Heard it from my… son?" 

Even if he grows unsure towards the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question, your brows arch. You hadn't seen that on his profile, nor was it anything he'd mentioned during your short back and forth. 

And Robby notices your reaction, it seems, as he is quick to clarify, "Not my son. Jake, he's the kid of my ex." 

Robby winces after it's said. He may not have dated in years, but he knows the etiquette about bringing up exes on first dates.

"Yeah, sorry, you probably didn't need that detail." He sheepishly drags one hand over the side of his face, ruffling that side of his hair, only to slide down along his bearded jaw and down his chin.

"It added to the explanation, so I'm not offended." You say it with a wink at the end, letting him know no real harm has been done. "So, you two are close, you and Jake, I mean?"

"We're building back up to that point after some rough patches." You nod, deciding not to push upon catching the tension behind his words.

"And you and your ex, I suppose you're on good terms if you still hang out with him occasionally?" His head cocks as you ask, and you simply raise your hands. "Hey, you mentioned it, I'm just gauging."

And Robby believes you. He doesn't know why, but you make it feel easy to talk about these things. It's the first time he does it with someone who knows nothing of his background in... how many years, he doesn't know. 

"I guess. We don't really talk, only if it concerns Jake, but it's not like I'm always present at every big step he takes." You nod with a bit of hum

"If you don't mind, why did it end? From the outside, it looks like you've stepped into some kind of father role for Jake. It feels like you don't abandon the relationship it stemmed from readily."

"Me and the kid got on better than me and his mom." You chuckle at the joke. He smiles but continues with a half-hearted shrug. "Work, I guess, always the joykiller."

"Doctor, was it?" He nods twice, guessing you'd worked it out from the pictures he wore scrubs in or during the texting Samira had done with you. "I guess that does take up a lot of time."

He chuckles, hearing how it brushes on sardonic in his own ears. "You could say that."

"So, long-term then? Do you feel like that's correct if your work takes up so much time?" 

That question makes him stall, hesitate. Not because he didn't know where it came from. He'd seen what type of relationship preference was visible on his profile. It was the only option he would've considered as well if he, over his dead body, would've created it himself. But he didn't think you would ask about it, no less without averting your eyes as you waited for his answer.

"I… good question, honestly," he couldn't help but exhale, rubbing his neck. 

Robby had, of course, thought about it and knew it was the reason most of his previous relationships gave away in the end. He wasn't the sole fault for it. Janey and Collins both had careers they'd also wanted to focus on advancing or just maintaining amidst everything else. 

"It's not that it takes up too much time, just that it never technically leaves you, me, even if I'm not at work." He looks at you, eyes locking with yours from unconsciously having fallen to the table. "It's not something everyone wants to sign up for and…"

"Not something you want to put them through?" You lean on the table, resting your temple on your fist, eyes on him.

Robby doesn't know if smart would be the word to describe you for working it out. Perceptive, maybe, as you'd suggested the reason he'd left out with enough confidence to showcase that you knew that's what we wanted to say. 

And you weren't wrong.

"It's just easier to sometimes not bother when you know the outcome." He confirms. Not defeated, just the simple truth.

"Being alone can be awfully comfortable." 

It's his turn to tilt his head in intrigue. "Speaking from experience?" 

"Yeah, you can say that." You smile, but it's not as light as your previous ones. "I've met enough people who want fleeting things and never even want to try and settle." 

Without having seen your dating profile, Robby gathered what your questions tried to determine, as well as what your preferences were. "In for a penny, in for a pound?"

You break into a smile as you sit up again, leaning back with your arm loosely folded across your chest. "If you want to choose the lightest saying."

"So, any exes I should know about?" 

Concerning how you two already have broken the standard protocol for a first date, he isn't shy to steer the conversation to focus on you this time around rather than a topic of favourite colours or foods.

"None recent and none who's left much baggage." You share with him. But it seems like you're reminded of something, your lips pulling at the edges as you grimace. "People I've dated on a short-term basis are a different story. But I feel like you're not the kind of man who's got the patience to listen to how miserable guys are with dating in this day and age."

"You're probably right." He scoffs, able to imagine it more than well. "Men can be impossible."

You chuckle at that, and Robby finds himself smiling.

The silence you settle into as your sound of amusement fades is short-lived, your food arriving to break it and the eye contact you shared.

Although the conversation evens out while you eat, occasional comments are shared. 

Some touch on superficial topics. Robby likes sports, you don't mind them. You both enjoy reading, but he prefers journals, while you gravitate towards fiction of most kinds. 

Others don't, but neither of you shy from them.

You don't use the exact words, but when thoughts are shared on partners and relationships, your answers are nonetheless similar. Not uncomplicated, unchallenging. But right, worth attempting.

Robby finds himself wanting to know more, curious about you. With how your conversation never waters down into prolonged and strained silences ─of course, the occasional lull, but it's filled with shared glances─ you seem equally as invested. Asking about him, gazing at him while he speaks, sometimes with a small smile. 

Without realising, those hours he never intended to spend with you in the first place pass. 

Your bubble breaks when the waiter appears and plucks the dishes from the table, voicing an open question regarding dessert.

Robby glances at you, and you notice his attention. With a little jerk of his head, he silently tells you to decide. Your eyes move back to the waiter, only answering when the clatter of cutlery and plates has silenced and he balances the dishes in his arms.

"We're good, thank you." You smile up at the man, who offers a nod before he walks off. Your attention lands on him again, "I'm just going to the ladies. I'll be back soon," you excuse as you stand up.

"You'll find me here." Your eyes remain on him even as you begin walking away, and Robby catches the flicker in them, relieved, happy. It's mirrored in your smile, hidden only when you face forward. 

Without realising, he feels how he reciprocates your smile even if you can't see it. 

As you wash your hands, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you have to forcefully purse your lips to beat down your smile. 

This evening was going above and beyond whatever you'd imagined. It was hard not to consider what was possible down the road if it continued like this. But Robby... he just made it too easy to accidentally trip and fall right down that rabbit hole. That's precisely why you needed to run your hands through the coldest water possible from the tap. 

As you placed them on the back of your neck to ground yourself, you exhaled slowly, putting a lid on the ecstatic quiver in your chest. Your eyes fluttered close for a brief moment; annoyingly, your mind simply conjured a picture of Robby behind your eyelids.

You shake your head, opening your eyes, only to see a smile has worked itself onto your lips again.  

"Jesus," you huff, the excitement in your own voice not lost on you as you dry your hands. 

This was only a first date. You really needed to approach it as if it meant nothing. Disappointment was too close otherwise.

Yet, it's proved impossibly hard to keep yourself to that, your smile already returning once your eyes find Robby as you get closer to the table.

When you're a few feet away, he turns to you, probably catching you nearing through his periphery.

"Are you ready to go?" He asks, standing up before you have time to sit down again.

Your brows pull together. "But the check?"

"I took care of it." Robby waves towards the way you just came, insinuating he paid while you were gone.

"Thank you, that's really kind." Your head dips as he takes the lead to the exit. "I appreciate it." 

He doesn't respond, not verbally, but he throws a look over his shoulder, lips tugging upwards. 

It took every part of your non-lizard brain to continue walking and not just dumbly stop in the middle of your step. Robby had looked so incredibly good in that short instance that it took you off guard in that off-hand realisation way. 

You'd stared at him countless times tonight, never denying you sat across from a handsome man. But that, and how he now holds the door open ─close to the hinges as he'd already stepped on the pavement outside and looked back at you─ would ingrain itself in your memory forever.

"Which way are you going?" He asks once you join him on the sidewalk. 

You nod towards the left.

It grants you a smile that makes Robby's eyes gentle and incorporates his whole face. His smile lines appeared. The wrinkles deepened on his forehead. The creases grew beside his eyes. 

"We're heading the same way," he says, and just like that, you set off in the same direction. 

A conversation flows easily. You laugh slightly louder at his sarcastic comments, able to when you weren't indoors. His chuckles also ring deeper as he watches the way you look up at him after softly swatting his arm. The kind of minor physical contact that wasn't possible when sitting opposite each other. 

Yet the air of finality was hard to ignore. The daunting feeling the night was closing in on its end grew. 

As Robby slows his pace, which you catch onto a few seconds later, as if you didn't anticipate it, he knows for sure it is. 

"This is me," he nods down the right turn of the intersection as he says it.

You offer him a smile, motioning forward. "My bus stop is a few blocks away." 

"You took the bus?" You hum with a nod.

The wind has picked up during your walk together. It's not cold by any means, but being this close to the water increased the power of the gusts. Robby notices your shiver, probably just due to the sudden shift in temperature by a few degrees more than actually freezing. Even so, he finds himself stepping in front of you.

You follow Robby as he moves, cutting off the gust of winds that previously blew into your face. Your eyes widen slightly as you realise what he did, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. 

"Thank you," you quickly follow them up with something to cover your shocked appreciation. "I enjoyed tonight."

"Yeah, me too."

"I really didn't have any expectations." You admit with a chuckle. "I honestly headed into this with the mindset to get it over with and be disappointed if, and no offence, I thought you would, proved to be a completely different person than over text."

Robby chuckles and shakes his head. Apparently, you'd had the same attitude toward this as he had.

"Maybe I'm shooting myself in the foot by telling this, but-" This time he looks sideways, hand finding the back of his head, scratching it as he continues. "-some friends set me up for this date. Without me knowing."

"No, you're joking?" His gaze shifts back to you. Your lips are slightly parted, brows knitted together.

"Didn't know I had a dating profile until yesterday." He gives you an apologetic smile, arm dropping to find shelter in his back pocket.

Even though he didn't reveal how adamant he'd been to call quits on this, Robby still thought the information he shared would be enough for your surprised expression to turn sour. Maybe even take a step back, excuse yourself and be on your way now when you know. 

He didn't anticipate seeing amusement, maybe even curiosity, bleed into your surprise as a laugh bubbled slowly in your throat until it filled the air.

"Oh, god, I-I'm sorry," you excuse through your chuckling, biting your lip and dampening it into a smile before you decide to continue. "I really thought someone like you-," you abandon the rest of your sentence with a small shake of your head. 

That made his head cock, intrigue rising suddenly. "No, tell me." 

Your brows rise, tongue wetting your lips, chest stuttering a little on your inhale. To Robby, it was clear you hadn't thought he would ask you to continue, explain what you'd left out.

"I, well… figured you didn't need any apps with your looks. If we base it on how I malfunctioned when seeing your photos." Your chin drops, watching your toes as you shift the weight on your feet. 

You remember the noise you let out as his profile grazed your screen, very undignified. Enough so that you'd looked around your empty room to see if someone accidentally heard you.

"You're exaggerating."

"No." Your head snaps up, Robby looking as surprised as you feel upon the conviction behind the statement. You fumble to continue with an explanation. "I mean, you look good, really good; most women would think so."

"I'm on the wrong side of fifty."

Your head does a minuscule shake as your brows furrow as if you can't comprehend his words. "And?"

"I have greys in my beard." 

You hum, bewildered expression dropping just like your eyes do as they narrow lightly, focusing on his beard. God, that beard. You hesitate, only to take a step closer. 

Robby inhales at the proximity, only getting a lungful of your perfume rather than the fresh air needed for his brain to function. But he doesn't mind your closeness, not at all. 

When you slowly raise your hand, he watches as bewitched. 

You do it slowly enough so he knows you leave time for him to object, step back, say no. But he doesn't move an inch. Simply follows your hand that reaches for his chin, waiting to feel your touch.

The gentle sensation of your nails scratching his skin beneath the coarse hair as your fingers card through his beard sent one long shiver down his spine.

"Congrats, you're one step closer to becoming a silver fox." He actually chuckles at that, shaking his head. Your hand automatically falls again as he does, but you don't step away.

"And you don't mind?" He looks at you again, searching your eyes even if a smile greets him.

There's a gap between you. He'd noticed it as soon as he saw you in the restaurant. Compared to him, there were yearsuntil you even started greying. The lines on your forehead and around your eyes still tilted more towards smooth skin than not, unlike himself.

"Do you think I would've swiped, let alone met up with you if it did?"

"Maybe you just wanted a free meal," he shrugs. He doesn't really believe it himself, not after getting to know you. So the rise of your brows doesn't surprise him.

"I'll let you know, Robby." The slow, accentuated way you say his name while you notch your chin higher makes his heart speed up. "I may have decided to meet up after that short conversation with your friends. But I stayed throughout the dinner because of you." 

"So my dad-jokes worked?" He doesn't even realise he bends his neck slightly as he asks you. But he does notice the hitch in your breath as he does.

Robby's smile is slightly toothy as he looks down at you. A grin almost. It looks remarkably boyish for someone of his age, a juxtaposition to the rest of his aged features. But you found it simply spread fondness through your chest like so many other things he'd done tonight.

"Yeah, yeah, they did." 

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Hopeful for a second date?"

"Am I wrong to think I have a good chance?"

"No."

You hadn't noticed how you both inched closer, gravitating towards each other. Your chests almost touching. The point of your shoes nearly meeting his. But it does feel like you realise it at the same time. Both your eyes fall, only to meet again seconds later. 

He takes a tentative step closer, a shuffle more like, angling his head down as one hand slips from his jeans pocket. You have a feeling where it will land but are surprised when it settles on your waist. 

"I really had a good night," his voice has dropped, rough and low. 

"You've already said that." Robby's hands slide to your ribs, leaving behind goosebumps he can't see, but you can feel.

"Needed to say it again." It's more of a mumble beneath his breath as he watches you closely, following your reaction to his hand jumping to the curve of your shoulder, moving until his hand cups behind your neck, thumb along the hinge of your jaw. "Since I didn't think it would be."

"Robby-" his name is a whisper, breathed into the space that still separates you. Far less than before, but still not enough to touch. Not until he dips closer, tongue rolling to briefly be trapped between his lips before they part.

"This okay?" His nose nudges yours, the tip rather than the side, as he remains far enough away that his brown gaze can meet yours.

"Yeah." Even if his eyes fall to your lips as you reply, he remains a few inches away. 

You swallow, inhaling, eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth. Robby's jaw clenches, then it slackens, his grip on your face shifting.

It's you who tilt your head and lean closer, but it's Robby who closes the gap and initiates the kiss.

Your eyes flutter shut as his warm, rough lips press against yours. 

You hadn't had enough time to dream- consider this. A second date, more down the road. But not this, not tonight. And yet, everything about kissing Robby feels right.

It feels natural when your hands fall against his stomach as he parts and tilts his head, only to seek you out again. The shivers working overtime through your nervous system ─prickling the skin across all parts of your body, enough for your hair to stand at the edge─ feel good and not uncomfortable. And when his other hand lands and curves over your hip, his warmth radiating through the fabric of your clothes as he pulls you into him, you welcome it.

When you part properly and with more space than a breath that fans hotly against each other's lips, you finally look at each other again. 

Robby is the first to speak as you inhale a lungful of air, attempting to steady your hammering heart after witnessing the look in his eyes.

"Do you want to stay at mine?"

Yeah, all that air? Gone.

The air you just pulled in whooshed out in an exhale that sounded like a rushed huh?. Apparently, his own comment caught him off-guard, his brows shooting up high enough to accentuate the lines on his forehead.

"I-just…," he swallows, cutting himself short. 

You feel how he wants to release your face and smoothen the hand down his face. In the end, he settles for a quick sideways-jerk of his head, accompanied by a smile that is void of humour in contrast to troubled.

"I'm just offering for you to stay at mine so you don't have to take the bus this late." You blink, watching him for a few seconds. Then you suddenly break into a smile, brows cocking.

"And you don't offer to pay for a cab to take me home but invite me to sleep over?" His mouth falls open, face elongating, a pink hue spreading across his cheeks as he averts his eyes.

"Christ, I know how it sounded, but I'm not expecting anything, just…if you want to- feel like-" he cuts himself off with an exasperated noise and a shake of his head. "I should just have offered you that cab ride." 

His brown eyes look from the ground to you, apologetic as bashfulness shines in them. 

You can't help but chuckle at the state he's in. The troubled furrow between his eyebrows. The slight pink still tinging his cheeks. 

What spurs you to respond is when you feel his hand slide from the side of your neck and your hip.

You halt his movement by moving your respective hands to the outer part of his arms, then elbows. With a slight push, you redirect his hands, that's just about to fall alongside his body, to land at your waist.

"I'm taking you up on that offer." Robby visibly relaxes, his hands on your waist settling fully rather than hovering. "Lead the way, if you're not having second thoughts on that cab?"

"Are you?" You shake your head. In return, he nods once, only to motion sideways with his head. "Let's go."

Although Robby's hands fall from your waist after the slight tug to direct you along with him, you walk closer than before, arms brushing, fingers touching every now and then. 

Your pulse is already thrumming, and even though you want to, you don't intertwine your fingers with his. Instead, you settle on slipping your hand around his bicep. Which is still quite daring if you go off how your heart jumps as you take the plunge. 

Whatever hesitation you had is quelled when Robby accommodates instantly, arm bending slightly. You bite your lip, gaze still set forward as your other hand also settles on him at the green light, draping across the crook of his arm, near where his forearm starts. 

You softly squeeze his bicep. He reciprocates with a lightly flexing and bringing it closer to his body, trapping your hand in a gentle press against his ribs. It's nothing and so much at the same time.

[glamorizethechaos]

Bruised Pt 3 | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: When you find yourself in an abusive relationship, you never thought your attending Jack Abbot would become your protector and saving grace.

TW: domestic violence, age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s & Jack is 49), hospital setting, surgery, medical inaccuracies, nudity, fluff, angst, eventual smut, Not beta read. Likely typos. Lmk if there is anything else!

Word Count: 3.2k

Authors Note: I’m so sorry it took so long to get this part up! I’ve been so busy with work, and my kids. Then it was my anniversary, my husband’s birthday and Father’s Day, so I’ve been running around like crazy. Whenever I get a minute to relax I’m just been sooo tired. This chapter isn’t my favorite at all, I didn’t want it to be too medical considering I have a history degree and have no medical background (aside from my hypochondria and time spent on webmd). So consider this to be a filler chapter I guess? Hope next chapter is good and perhaps a little smutty 🫦

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Feel

You felt the tether of all the wires connecting you to the countless monitors. The burn of the IVs embedded into your skin. Then the pain. The utter indescribable pain. Your head pounded, your body stiff. The slow trickle of cerebrospinal fluid from your nose was now coating your lips. You want to wipe it away, but your hands are too heavy, your fingers tingling. Your face feels cold despite the sweat that covered your body. The cold offering comfort in the chaos.

Taste

Your mouth was so incredibly dry that it was difficult to swallow. Your tongue almost sticking to the roof of your mouth, peeling it away giving the sensation of velcro. The only thing that offered temporary moisture was the salty spinal fluid that seeped into your mouth. All you could crave was water.

Smell

It all smelled so sterile. The metallic smell of dried blood, your dried blood, mixed with iodine. Had you had surgery? Why were you covered in iodine?

Sound

The beeps and clicks of the monitors were a constant, but words around you were muffled, as if you were drowning under water. As the words ebbed and flowed, you managed to make out some in all of the chaos.

“Basilar skull fracture”

“Post- traumatic seizures”

“Subdural hematoma”

“Craniotomy”

No. No. No. No. Please God no. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t possibly be happening; but the memories begin flooding back with each passing moment. You are back in the trauma room where can hear the sound of your skull cracking as Charlie’s hands gripped your throat and bashed your head against the wall. You can hear the sound of Jacks fist making contact with flesh, Robby’s screams, and Charlie’s groans.

Sight

Darkness. You only saw black. Your eyelids feeling as if they were being held shut by some unknown force. No matter how hard you tried, they wouldn’t budge. Jacks voice enters the room and you want so desperately to open your eyes, tell him you’re okay, you’re alive. He must know you’re trying because you feel his hand in yours in an instant, squeezing it lightly and assuring you it’s alright. That it’s just the swelling around your eyes. Was that the cold you felt on your face? Was that Jack holding a compress to your eyes?

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With an unknown lapse in time, your eyes began to flutter open. Your vision blurry, the bright lights making them immediately shut again. While you couldn't see him, you knew he was there.

"J-" you were taken aback by how hoarse your voice was, your mouth and throat so dry that little sound came out. Before you knew it, you felt the comfort and warmth of his hands. Hesitantly he traced his rough fingertips along your jaw and down your bruised neck.

"I'm here." he whispered.

"Hurts" was all you could muster, god you needed some water.

"I know it hurts, we can get you some more morphine in about an hour."

You shook your head, reaching out with trembling hands to find his. You opened his palm and slowly traced each letter:

L - I - G - H -T

You heard Jack scurry to turn the light off, and only when the world felt less harsh your eyes opened slowly. He looked exhausted, he hadn't shaved, hair disheveled, cheeks sunken, but he smiled at you softly. Bringing his your hand up to his mouth, he shut his eyes and placed a tender kiss on the back of it, the ring on your finger still taunting you. He helped bring a glass of water to your lips, trickling down your throat, washing away the salty and metallic taste.

"Jack..." you finally whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "Wh-wh-- h-ha " for some reason the words didnt come. You shut your eyes tightly again, trying to focus on what you wanted to say, what you needed to say. Its as if your mine and body were no longer working in sync.

"Hey, hey, slow down, it's normal to have a bit of aphasia after a brain injury. It'll come back to you soon enough." Jack assured you as the panic began to fill your eyes. "You can squeeze my hands once for yes, two for no. Okay?"

One Squeeze.

"Good..." Jack smiled a toothy grin, "Let's figure out what you remember... okay?"

One Squeeze

"Do you remember what happened at Pittfest?"

One Squeeze

"Do you remember Charlie? What he did to you?"

One Squeeze

"Do you remember going up for CT?"

Two Squeezes

Jack looked down, trying to figure out how to tell you all that happened when your eyes fluttered shut in his arms. He wanted to block the memory from his mind. The way your body grew rigid and clonic before you even made it to radiology.

"Charlie caused a basilar skull fracture, which caused you to have the CSF rhinorrhea. It's getting better, you just gotta stay flat for a while." You hadn't even noticed the trickle from your nose had almost gone to a standstill.

"Taking you up to CT, you started having a seizure, you had one last night too. Imagining found a subdural hematoma. Walsh had to do a craniotomy to relieve the pressure..."

Your hand immediately reached for the back of your head, feeling for the incision. You felt the bald patch, the stubble pricking your fingers and they traced along the staples. You stopped counting after 10 staples.

"She left as much as she could... it'll grow back. Come on don't look like that." Jack whispered, wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"See?" you asked, pointing to your face.

Jack pulled his phone from his pocket and turned on the front facing camera. Holding the phone in front of your face, you gasped loudly. Your eyes were black and swollen, your neck bruised, tacky spinal fluid crusted on your lips and chin. A sob stuck in your throat and you shut your eyes, not wanting to look at your reflection any longer.

"Hey, hey, none of that. You're still my pretty girl, right?" he cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to face him. "Open your eyes. Look at me. The cuts will heal, the hair will grow back, and the bruising with fade. You are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." His hazel eyes were glassy and exhausted, but he looked genuine; like he meant every word that was coming out of his mouth.

Your chest ached at his words, the world standing still. His pretty girl. The woman that looked back at you in the mirror was far from that. You saw a battered woman, a lost woman, a broken woman. Yet Jack looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Behind those tired eyes of his, he looked at you with nothing but complete adoration. How? Why?

“Charlie?” The words seemed to come easier to you now, like Jack had promised. It took everything for him not to explode at the mere mention of that man’s name. The man who hurt the woman he loved.

“He’s here. In the ICU.”

“I want to see him.” You whispered firmly, throat still hoarse.

“I dont think th-“

“Jack, please.”

Jack pressed his back against his chair, his shoulders slumping forward a bit, almost in defeat. He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his chin, and you heard the scratch of the hair on his rough skin. With some hesitation, he stood and fetched a wheelchair.

"I'm gonna sit you up slowly, okay?" he said softly, looping his arms under your armpits to slowly guide you up. It felt like the room was spinning, all the blood rushing to your head. You let out a small cry from the pain, resting your head into the crook of his neck as you adjusted. When you were ready, he lifted you into the chair and began to push you down the hallway. Stopping outside his room Jack sighed.

"I dont know if its a good idea if I go in there." he wanted nothing more than to finish the job, break every bone in that mans body.

"Please, Jack. I need you."

With a nod, Jack used his back to push the door open and wheel you inside, trying not to jostle you around too much. Seeing him there in bed was a shock. His jaw was wired shut, an NG tube down his nose, his face nearly unrecognizable. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, and you stared at Jack in awe of the damage he had done, for you.

Charlies head turned, eyes widening and heart rate increasing at the presence of Jack Abbot. For a moment, you almost pitied the man, your heart somehow still ached for him. With a nod, Jack wheeled you to the edge of the bed, him gripping the handles so firmly his knuckled were now white. His jaw was clenched shut, he said nothing, but his eyes said everything.

In one fluid motion you took off your engagement ring, twiddling it in you hands. Your finger felt naked, the ring that has been there for 2 years was now gone.

"Give me your hand Charlie." you demanded, before firmly grabbing it yourself, pressing the ring firmly into the palm of his hand. Your jaw was tight, you spoke through gritted teeth. "I stayed because I hoped things would change. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. That I could fix it. Fix you. But you hurt me. Over and over and over again. With your words, with your fists, with how small you made me feel." tears began to soak your cheeks as the words spilled into the air.

"Every day I tried to survive it. Every time you grabbed me, shoved me, screamed in my face—every time you told me no one else would want me—I believed you. But thats not true, Charlie." you looked back at Jack who was studying your every movement and every expression. Through the anger, through the tears, through the heartbreak, you smiled softly at Jack who looked at you with pain in his eyes.

"You hurt me for the last time." finally letting go, the ring you pressed into his hand left an indent in your palm, and you watched it slowly fade away. You knew that Charlie would leave a permanent mark on you. The scars that would remain, the trauma that would persist, those wouldnt go away. But watching the outline of your once promise slowly dissipate made this real.

"I feel sick Jack." you choked, and he swiftly pushed you out of the room into the hall. You were pale, diaphoretic, and trying to catch your breath.

"Tell me what hurts." Jack switching from protector to doctor in a matter of seconds.

"I cant breathe." you gasped, grabbing onto his shirt, looking for something to hold onto, to ground yourself.

What Jack first dismissed as another panic attack after your encounter with Charlie vanished the moment he saw the bluish tint creeping across your lips. Barreling down the hallway, he immediately called a rapid response.

"Honey, we gotta get you on the monitor to check your pulse ox, now."

With a reading of 85% he was now in combat mode.

"I need high flow oxygen mask, now!" he barked, "where the fuck is respiratory?"

"Infection?" you gasped, breathing growing more and more shallow.

"Maybe. I dont know."

"Please... dont intubate." you begged, grabbing his hand with all the strength you had left.

"Not if I can help it." Jack smiled assuringly and slipped the oxygen mask over your nose. It brought him relief to see your levels improving on just room air. Your airways felt assaulted by force of the oxygen mask, the pressure making it feel like your head was about to explode more than I already was, your chest feeling as if it were on fire. Jack reached out to grab your trembling hands are you began to pull and paw at the mask.

“I know it feels uncomfortable. Just focus on my voice—breathe with me, okay? In and out, slow and steady. We gotta figure out what's going on."

"M-Me-Meningitis?" you were a doctor, you knew the risks, and the infection risks were high. Jack simply nodded at the possibility and as he prepped you for a spinal tap. You winced and called out as the needle pierced your back.

As you waited for your results Jack sat at the edge of the bed rubbing your legs to avoid blood pooling and clots from forming. Your body was sore, and his hands felt heavenly. You moaned involuntarily as he hit a particularly tender spot, causing you both to blush.

You felt disgusting. Your hair was matted, bloody and greasy. Your skin still stained with iodine and a layer grime. You just wanted to get clean but had no means of doing so. You couldn’t stand unassisted, your breathing was labored, and your body was too weak. The thought of getting a sponge bath was humiliating.

“You don’t have to do this, Jack. I’m filthy.” You pulled your mask down briefly. Jack simply shook his head and chuckle.

“Try grown men in the middle of desert combat going 3 weeks without a shower. This is nothing, kid.”

Still— you recoiled a bit, pulling your legs away from him, causing him to frown.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up then.”

“What?”

“I said let’s get you cleaned up, I can help you shower.”

"Jack... I-I-I dont--"

"Or if you aren't comfortable, I can grab a nurse to help?"

You looked at him, contemplating the offer. It was strictly clinical, right? He was a doctor, he's seen hundreds, maybe thousands of naked bodies. Clinical, strictly clinical.

With a nod, Jack took a few slow steps towards you, removing your oxygen mask to see how vitals held before moving forward. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he helped you up and into the wheelchair.

"I'm gonna take off your gown now, that okay?"

Not answering, you let out a small squeak as you stifled a sob. He immediately knelt down next to you, standing at your eye level. His brow was tense as he looked at you with a painful expression. Your body was trembling, jaw chattering, eyes looking shellshocked. The bathroom grew hotter as the shower steam began to billow around the bathroom. Your reflection beginning to fade as condensation clung to the mirror.

Jack began to search for comforting words, his back leaning against the bathroom door.

"I've been in this exact situation myself, you know? When I got hurt, I was unable to bathe myself. It was a sponge bath, talk about mortifying. I'm a grown man and I had some hot nurse in a German military hospital flipping me over to scrub my ass..."

You couldn't help but chuckle, appreciating not only the imagery but his vulnerability.

"So I get it... trust me."

"Okay...yeah."

Jack untied the back of your hospital gown, slipping it off you. Instinctually, you covered your exposed body.

He lifts you into the shower, placing you on the shower stool. The hot water began to cascade over your bruised and scarred body, washing away the dirt, grime and blood. Jack began to work his hands along your body, starting with your hair. You shut your eyes as Jack began to gently massage shampoo into your scalp, taking extra care to avoid your craniotomy staples.

Then your bruised neck and down to your stiff shoulders.

He worked away at the knots from laying in the hospital bed, your head hung forward, breath quickening again. Not because you couldn't breathe, but from the sensation of his hands on your skin. The crook of your neck was now exposed to him, almost inviting him to press his lips against you. He shook his head, trying to get back to the task at hand. He was standing in front of you now, kneeling down at eye level. With more precision his hands moved lower, the washcloth brushing against your breasts, your breath hitching. His eyes met yours, checking in to see you were okay.

With more assurance his hand traveled lower, brushing against your stomach. Lower and lower, until you grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he reached your most sensitive part.

"Jack..." you whispered.

"I-I'm sorry." he whispered, handing you the washcloth. "I'll go wait outside so you can finish up, call me when you're ready, yeah?"

He left the bathroom in a hurry, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

"Fuck..." he whispered to himself. He felt so guilty, for wanting more when you were in your most vulnerable. Felt disgusted he felt for how good it felt to have your hands on your body, even in your condition.

When he heard your faint callings from the bathroom he went back in with a smile.

"Ready?" he helped you stand, you pressed your back against his chest as he wrapped a scratchy hospital around your frail frame. "Feel better?" he asked, helping you back into a fresh gown and into your bed with fresh sheets.

"Much, thank you Jack."

"Let me fix your hair so it doesn't get tangled again, alright?" he sat you up and started to braid your hair.

"You know how to braid hair?"

"Not my choice. I have 4 sisters." he chuckled before finishing up and admiring his work. "I'm a little rusty, but I think it'll do."

"Thank you." you smiled.

"Listen, abou-" he began before you promptly cut him off.

"Dont, Jack." you grabbed his hand, shaking your head, "Its okay. I promise. It's okay." Despite your assurance, Jack kept pushing.

"No...it’s not. Because I didnt just... I told you... you were in such a-- I wanted..." he began to stutter, fumbling over his words.

"Wanted what?"

"YOU!" he yelled before lowering his voice to almost a whisper... "I wanted you.”

He tried to get up, but you held onto him firmly. Your grip getting tighter and tighter as he spoke. “Even though I’ve been in your position and know how helpless you felt in that moment… I still wanted to touch you. And I just feel like some animal. That I’m no better than the sick fuck who hurt you in the first place.” Jacks voice cracked and in that moment you thought he was going to cry.

“Jack…” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands.

“You trusted me…” He whispered back, his eyes welling up with tears.

“I still do, Jack.” You rested your forehead against his. The tips of your noses brushing, your lips hovering mere inches apart. Both you were breathing quickly as his hands found your body again, rubbing his fingers down your bare spine through the opening of the hospital gown. You could feel each other’s breath panting against your lips. Your eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“Jack Abbot?” And unfamiliar voice pulled your attention away from each other in almost an instant. Two officers stood in the doorway, both resting their hands on their tactical vests.

“Yes officer, how can I help you?” Jack responded.

“Stand up for me and put your hands behind your back.” One stepped forward, pulling the handcuffs from his belt.

“What?” You yelled, not wanting to let go of Jack. “No, please!”

“Dr. Abbot you’re under arrest for the aggravated assault and battery of Charlie Truett.”

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Tag list //

@michasia24 @emma8895eb @nosebeers @runawaybaby3 @antisocialfiore @xxxkat3xxx @livingavilaloca @popeabbot @catmomstyles3 @bxxbxy @meowmeowyoongles @midnight-dixon @nerdgirljen @aj3684 @screechingenemy18 @profoundlynerdywolf @rogersbarnesxx @sebastianstangirl01 @princesssunderworld @looneylooomis @shadowhuntyi @drlangdonsbabydaddy @celiacallsitcausal @sjester42-blog @geekgirl1996 @ksyn-faith @peggyofoz @trustme3-13 @foolishseven @floofmc @anxiousfuckupon @silas-aeiou @pinkdrinkwithraspberry

(I think I got everyone! Sorry if I missed you!!!! Lmk if you wanna be added)