#and robby would neverrr abandon a poor girl with no power

[erwinsvow]

one last thing but i am thinking about one of those humid august storms. it's seven-thirty and it's still light out but it's storming so bad that it's caused three accidents already in the last few hours. there's lightning and thunder and the power even flickered once or twice and you're ready to go home. there's just one little problem—you picked a great day to not check the weather. you walk to work so you're clad in your good sneakers with no raincoat or umbrella. you stand by the doors waiting to see if someone will accept your uber request, staring outside at how you can't even make out the street signs or lampposts with how heavy the rain is. and you feel him before you even see him, robby behind you, looking at your screen, wondering why you thought anyone would accept an ride in these conditions. then you blubber a story about how you didn't know it was raining today and you were going to figure out a car situation before winter and you're sure that someone will accept it eventually, right? you mentally smack yourself upside the head for not asking dana or trinity before they left. and robby, well, robby isn't gonna let you sit in the hospital for hours waiting for the storm to die down (he checked the forecast, which is why he drove today. it's not dying down anytime soon) not after the day everyone's had. so that's how you end up in the passenger seat of robby's truck, your bag tucked in by your feet and staring at robby while he reverses out one-handed with what can only be described as a love-struck expression. he was listening to the beatles this morning and it starts playing from his car again where he left off, and you stare out the window to avoid staring at your attending. you two are good at small talk and it's all normal, with you promising to finally look into getting that car, until he pulls up beside your apartment complex. there's no covering or garage for him to pull into, and the rain has somehow gotten even worse. the windows of his truck are foggy and you know that he can't see anything. you also know that he doesn't live near you and the idea of robby driving in this weather makes you unsettled, especially since you have no way of making sure he's okay. so you put aside your better instincts and invite him inside—just until the rain slows down. please?—and against his better instincts, he agrees. you two run inside and get drenched in the process, and you offer to make tea even though it's still eighty degrees outside. tea is long forgotten when you stare at him, soaked to the bone, his shirt sticking to his skin and hair messy and wet. he peels off the black scrub top and leaves the white shirt on—though it's completely soaked too—and you stare, mouth uncomfortably dry, before jumping when the kettle goes off. you're soaked too, and you need to change but you feel weird changing when he's still in his scrubs, so you stay in the damp clothes and drink your tea next to him while you two watch the weather channel. it seems like the storm's not stopping and there's a flood warning. there's so many things you want to say—more than just small talk, more than just fillers—and you keep glancing over at him to find him watching the screen, so you turn back and that's just when he turns to look at you. when the weatherman is talking about how everyone is advised to stay inside and not drive, you decide to speak up— wanting to offer him a dry shirt and whatever you can make for dinner to thank him for bringing you home—when the power goes out. well, looks like he's staying.