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dontcurbyourenthusiasm · 20 days ago

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MOMMY ISSUE GANG HOW ARE WE TN???? *airhornsss*

no but seriously, this is so beautifully written. I often find grief to be the most finicky to write, but this depiction of grief is so so beautiful and painfully raw. It was the same flavour of grief as Robby's in the show so it was that much more meaningful to experience him walk through that with her.

(also, very relatable, I hit up my local denny's after most major holiday get togethers)

sacraments of healing

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, ANGST, swearing, no real medical stuff in this one besides a single cut and some sutures, family trauma, complicated mother/daughter dynamic, sibling death, grief, childhood trauma, mentions of physical/emotional childhood abuse, age gap (reader is about 34 i had to do the math to get the timeline right as you'll see, robby is probably like 53-54 here) words: 8.7K synopsis: loosely inspired by episode 2x06 of the bear (fishes) so if we have any bear stans here hi how are ya! reader is an attending at the pitt, did her residency under adamson, a fellowship in boston, and now has been back at the pitt for roughly two years. her and robby have been dating for the entirety of those two years, but have been working together since she was a resident (with the exception of her fellowship). robby insists on meeting her family when her mother reaches out to him via facebook and a nightmare ensues!! a/n: hi! thank you for all the love you've given but i stayed anyway, truly means the world to me. i hope you enjoy this one, tho i feel it is a bit niche so no worries if not!! please please note the content warnings and don't read if you think it'll bother you. ok talk soon.

“So,” Robby parked himself next to you at the hub while you looked up at the board, “Christmas Eve, are you picking me up or should I come get you?”

You frowned and turned to him, “What are you talking about?”

“The Feast of the Seven Fishes. At your parents’ place.”

You choked out a laugh and started walking towards a patient room, iPad in hand, “Right. You will not be attending that.”

“Ah, but I will. I already told your mother I’d be there.”

You stopped cold, forcing Robby to walk into you, and then turned to face him, “Since when are you in contact with my mother?”

He shrugged, that mischievous grin on his face, “She friended me on Facebook a few weeks ago.”

Oh, this could not be happening. This was your worst nightmare come to life. “Okay, well. Please block her and I will inform her that you won’t be coming.”

He gently reached out to grab your arm and pulled you to the side before you could walk away again, “Not happening. I want to meet your family. I will be coming. It’s not up for discussion.”

You could feel the panic rising in your chest, “Robby—“

“Baby, we’ve been dating for two years. You’ve met my family, dozens of times now.”

“Yes, well, your family is lovely. And normal.”

He smiled down at you, “And your family raised you. So they can’t be that bad.”

You closed your eyes and shook your head, “You have no idea what you’ve agreed to.”

“I’ve agreed to meet the people who made the woman I’m in love with,” He said tenderly. You were angry and scared out of your mind, but when he said that, you found yourself wanting to give in.

But you knew what would happen the second he met your family. You’d been through it before. Many times. Steeling your face, you walked around him.

“Look,” He said, walking in front of you again, “If you really don’t want me to come, I won’t, but then consider us done.”

Your eyes locked on his. There was no smile, no flush to indicate he was lying or teasing.

“You don’t mean that.”

He nodded, “I do.” He sighed, “I’m sorry, I can’t keep watching you build these walls up around yourself to keep me out and then pretend like everything’s fine.”

You laughed flatly, “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“I did the work,” He said quietly, “For you. It’s your turn now.”

And then he left you like that, alone in the middle of the ER.

***

It was about a year ago when you had gone to Robby to request a day off from work. It was late February, still in the dead of winter. The city couldn’t quite shake off the snow.

“Hey, I wanted to see if I could take next Thursday off?” You asked as casually as you could manage, “I can find another attending to cover if you need—“

“No, it’s fine. I can manage by myself,” Robby looked up from his workstation, perching his glasses on his head, “What’s going on next Thursday?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and then sighed, looking down at your hands, “It’s just, it’s the anniversary of my brother’s death so I just have a hard time being in the ER that day.”

“Oh,” Robby said, clearly caught off guard, “Sweetheart, I’m… so sorry I had no idea.”

“It’s fine,” You said quickly, uncomfortable with the attention and the sympathy, as you always were, “It was a long time ago.” You cleared your throat, “I have to go check on a patient.” You said and were gone before he could follow.

But you had felt his eyes on you for the rest of the shift. Sure enough, as soon as the two of you were out in the cold winter air, he brought it up.

“You never mentioned your brother died.”

You slowly inhale through your nose, “I don’t like to talk about it. It was over a decade ago.” You shrugged, as if the time had made it hurt less. It hadn’t, not exactly. The hurt was just different now. You had learned to live with it, bargain with it, figure out ways to work around it. But it was always there.

He nodded slowly, “And he died in an ER?”

You weren’t sure how much longer you could indulge this line of questioning before you were likely to snap at him. It was absolutely fair of him to be asking, you had talked him through Adamson and Jake’s girlfriend, Leah, more times than you could count.

But it was true what they said about doctors being terrible patients.

“Congenital heart failure, undiagnosed. He went into cardiac arrest during a half marathon. They got him back for a little bit in the ambulance, but he had been down a while, so.” You shrugged, concentrating on your foot prints through the snow so you wouldn’t see the way he collapsed, still a half mile away from you. You wouldn’t remember the way you had hopped the fence and sprinted to him, knees buckling when you got there. “We were nineteen.”

“Your twin?” He asked, voice soft.

You only nodded, “And before you ask, I’ve been tested. I don’t have it.”

“I bet that felt very unfair.”

No one had ever said that to you before and it nearly stopped you in your tracks. But it was true. You had spent many years, not being sad that your brother had died, but being absolutely furious with him for leaving you here, perfectly healthy, to carry on.

And when every test came back proving that you were healthy, everyone told you how lucky you were. Only it didn’t feel that way. It felt as though he had abandoned you.

The tears burned the back of your eyes, but you had grown very adept at keeping them at bay. You breathed through it until you thought it safe to speak again.

“He wasn’t supposed to go anywhere I couldn’t follow.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered and Robby heard it.

He reached for you, you felt his hand on your arm. It was likely he was pulling you in for a hug, but you shrugged him off.

You didn’t look at him, so you weren’t positive, but you could guess he had looked hurt by your dismissal. You kept walking, listening to his boots crunch in the snow next to yours. Reassurance that no matter how you pushed him away, he’d still be there.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, you cleared your throat, “There’s this ramen place a few blocks from your house I’ve been meaning to try. Do you want to order for dinner?”

“Sure.” He said after a few moments of silence.

It was a ceasefire agreement, disguised in take out ramen and letting you pick the movie to watch on his couch that night. He wouldn’t ask again about your brother. Not for a while. But it was only a temporary and tenuous peace, never meant to last.

And the clock was ticking.

***

“I suggest we Uber to my parents’ place.” You said the next day as you looked over a chart, “You’ll want to be drinking, I assure you. And I certainly will not be designated driver as I need to be absolutely smashed to get through the Feast.”

Robby bumped his shoulder into yours, “Ah, so we’re going then?”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

He slipped a finger beneath your chin and tilted gently upwards until you were looking at him, “You always have a choice.”

You forced a smile and looked away. He didn’t understand that it was a false choice. No matter what you chose, you would lose him. You would lose him if you didn’t let him come, you would still lose him if he came.

Robby was smart. Every fault, every break in you, you had carefully glued together, disguised as something else so that he could love you. But there would be no hiding all the ways you were jagged and damaged once he saw your family. Once he understood.

You had seen it so many times before. Partners insisting they wanted to meet your family, despite your warnings. And you would watch as the night went on. They’d get quieter. Their fake laughter less convincing. The way their eyes deadened by the end of the night. They’d kiss you goodnight and roughly a week later, you’d get some bullshit excuse about why it wasn’t working. None of them ever admitted it was because of your family, about the future they saw for you written on the walls, but they didn’t have to.

And now, despite all the careful planning you had done, Robby would follow in their footsteps.

***

You looked up at your childhood home with Robby by your side just as the Uber dropped you off.

“Do you mind if I smoke a cigarette before we go in?” You asked.

Robby looked at you, eyebrows raised, “You don’t smoke.”

“I do when I’m here.” You took out a fresh pack and a lighter and started opening them, “Do you want one?”

He scratched his head, “No. I don’t think you should, either.”

You lit up the cigarette between your lips and took a drag, “Look, you wanted to come here. This is who I am when I’m here.”

“There she is! Our big shot emergency doctor!” Your older brother, Luka, threw his arms around your shoulders from behind, “Hey, what the fuck?” He took the cigarette out of your hands and threw it on the ground, “I thought you quit?”

“Jesus, Luka,” You pulled out another cigarette, “Can’t you mind your own fucking business for once?”

He smirked, “It’s good to see you too, Ace.” He kissed your hair and then looked at Robby, “Oh, and this must be the boyfriend, Robby, is it?” He reached a hand out to Robby, which Robby took, “It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

“Same here,” Robby smiled.

“What’s Robby short for, Robert?”

“Uh, no, my last name is Robinavitch. I go by Dr. Robby or Robby in the ER. My first name is Michael.”

Luka nodded and then turned his attention back to you, “Just so you know, she’s in rare form today. She’s been drinking wine since noon.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “Oh, you mean like last year, and the year before that, and the year before that—“

“Come on, don’t be a brat about it, okay? Tommy’s got it under control, he’s handling it.”

This time you really did laugh, “Oh, Tommy’s handling it, is he? You mean he’s enabling her?”

“Look, Tommy’s had a tough year with the… broken engagement as you know. Just go easy on him, okay?”

You stared at your second cigarette as if it would transport you to another dimension if you thought hard enough, “Yo, Ace, did you hear me?”

“Yes, I will be super fucking kind to Tommy.” You said, annoyed at the use of your childhood nickname, “Where’s your wife, by the way?”

“Oh, she wasn’t feeling well, she’s at home with the kids.”

You laughed and shook your head at Luka, “Good for her.”

“What? She really is sick.”

“Mhm,” You put out your cigarette, “I bet she is. No, really, I’m happy for her Luka. From the bottom of my heart.”

Luka looked up at the house, “You coming in or what?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, “In a minute.”

Luka walked off toward the house and you sighed heavily before looking at Robby, “Last chance to turn back.”

He smiled at you, “I’m not afraid of your family, baby.”

You cracked your neck to one side and then the other, “Well, that makes one of us.”

And then you led him inside.

***

Immediately, as you enter the house, everyone is shouting rather than talking at normal volume. You can hear the range hood going in the kitchen and your mother shouting over it. The unmistakable sound of the men in the living room, yelling about sports.

You were already regretting not preemptively taking ibuprofen before coming here.

“Look who has decided to grace us with her presence. It’s nice of you to come home and visit us humble folk, huh Ace?” Your mother shouts as soon as you walk through the entryway and you sigh heavily.

“Ma, this is Michael, Michael, this is my mother.”

“Call me Deb, sweetheart it’s so good to meet you.” She engulfed him in her arms, kissing his cheeks, “Oh, you’re so handsome, too.”

Robby reddened under the attention of your mother, “Please, it’s my pleasure. Your daughter is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You felt the flush in your cheeks at Robby’s words and looked around the room with feigned interest, avoiding eye contact with either of them.

Your mother dramatically put her hands to her heart and looked at you, “Did you hear that, Ace? He thinks we did a good job with you.”

You frowned, “Interesting. That’s not what I heard.”

Robby put his hand on your waist and squeezed lightly in warning. You badly wanted to push his hand off you, but held back, knowing it would upset him. And though you thought it a lost cause, you were still going to try to keep him tonight.

Your mother ignores your comment, “How old are you, Michael?”

“Mom.” You admonished immediately.

“What?” She asked, feigning casual, “I think it’s a natural question it’s is no secret he’s older than you.”

Robby smiled and laughed, hanging his head self deprecatingly, “Yes, I am… much older than Y/N.”

You looked at him, apology in your eyes, but he only shook his head slightly.

“Well how much older?” Her smile was strained.

“Ma, please.” You hissed, but she ignored you, continuing to stare at Michael.

“Uh,” Robby also gave a tight smile, clearly uncomfortable, “About twenty years.”

Your mother’s eyebrows flew up, “Well,” She looked back to you, “I guess that’s a no on having kids, then.”

“Oh my God,” You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut.

“What? It’s true, I mean he probably already has kids, right?”

Robby shook his head, “No. I have someone I consider to be like a step son, but no children of my own.”

Your mother stared at him silently for a few moments and then shifted her attention back to you, “Well your father loves you very much, so I’m not sure where this choice came from.”

This couldn’t be happening. They had been in the house all of five minutes and already, you were sure Michael was going to break up with you as soon as you left. Maybe sooner, if it kept going like this.

“Did you just invite him here to insult him?” You asked, voice raising.

“Baby, it’s okay.” Robby whispered in your ear.

“No, it’s not okay.” You said, “If you can’t be nice for one night, then we’ll leave.”

Your mother laughed airily, “Oh relax, Ace, you’re so sensitive! I’m only teasing!” She looked to Michael, “I’m only teasing, sweetheart, you gotta have thick skin if you want to be in this family.”

Robby managed a smile and put a hand over his heart, “No offense taken.”

God, he was so kind and perfect. They were going to fucking ruin him. “I really think we should go,” You whispered so only he could hear.

“Oh, come on. You think I wasn’t prepared for your family to take a jab at my age?” He lowered his head slightly so he could look in your eyes, “I want to be here. With you.”

Your mother turned back to Michael, beckoning you both to the kitchen, “What do you drink, honey, help yourself, there’s beer in the fridge, wine— HEY, WHO TURNED THE HEAT UP ON THE GRAVY? Oh for CHRIST’S SAKE it’s bubbling over everywhere— ACE WOULD YOU GET OVER HERE AND HELP YOUR MOTHER?”

You sighed heavily, “Jesus Christ,” You mumbled and then headed for the fridge, taking out two beers, you used the fridge magnet that doubled as a bottle opener to open them both, letting the caps clatter to the floor and leaving them there. You handed one to Robby, “You should stay away from the kitchen, it’s a war zone in there.”

“And what’ll you do?”

“What I always do,” You took a long swig from the beer, “Fix everyone else’s mess.”

“ACE DID YOU HEAR ME?”

“I’m coming Ma, one sec!”

“What’s with the ‘Ace’ thing?”

You sighed, “It’s a stupid nickname. Our family plays a lot of cards, they’re really superstitious. My grandma once got a full hand of aces while I was helping her play when I was, like, five. So they started calling me Ace. It got so out of hand, they wouldn’t let me sit at the table anymore. Claimed it was cheating to have me within a five foot radius of a game”

He laughed, “That’s cute.”

Just then, the sound of shattering glass came from the kitchen along with the hysterical shrieks of your mother. “Okay,” You said slowly, “I’m gonna go handle that. You’ll be okay out here?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me, go.” He kissed you then, and even in your hopelessness you felt loved and safe, for just a second, “I love you.” He said, and you nodded, looking down at your beer bottle, “Hey,” He said and you looked up to meet his eyes, “I love you.” He said again slowly.

“Yeah,” You nodded, his words bringing you back down, “Yeah, I love you.”

“ACE, COULD YOU GET YOUR ASS IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN, PLEASE? CHRIST!” That was Tommy’s voice now and you sighed heavily.

“You’re sure you’re not regretting this yet?” You asked softly.

“Not even a little.” Robby said.

You nodded and stepped away from him. The night was still young.

***

Robby made his way to the living room, beer in hand, and was inundated with people he didn’t know and who barely spared him a glance as he entered the room. Not much in the mood yet to begin introducing himself to everyone, he found himself drawn to the mantel and the pictures perched above it.

He smiled a bit to himself as he noted pictures of little you with whom he assumed was Benji. He could tell, even from the pictures, just how close the two of you were. And his heart broke all over again imagining you having to watch him die.

“Are you Ace’s doctor boyfriend?” An older man came to his side, admiring the pictures as well.

Robby smiled, “What gave me away?”

The man shrugged, “You have the same nervous energy as she does. Always looking for a problem to solve. I’m Frank, her father.”

Robby shook the man’s hand, “Michael. It’s great to meet you, sir.”

“So how is she?”

Robby frowned, “She’s just in the kitchen, you could ask her yourself.”

He shook his head, “No, no, she won’t want to talk to me.”

Robby looked back at the photos, “She’s good,” He said, “She’s a fantastic doctor. We’re lucky to have her.”

“I already knew that part,” He smirked, “But outside her work?”

Robby inhaled deeply, “To be honest with you, sir, I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

Her father nodded, “Yeah, me too. I’ve been trying to figure her out ever since Benji died. Just to know if she’s okay. I’m pretty shit at it, though.” He laughed.

Robby looked back at the photos, “I am very sorry for your loss.” He paused, “Could you… tell me more about Benji? She doesn’t talk about him much, but I can tell it still weighs on her.”

The man, Frank, was silent for a moment as he looked at the photos. “Her and Benji were inseparable. They did everything together. They had the same friends, everything. Applied to all the same schools and went to the same one. You never had to worry about them because even if they never came to us, they always had each other.

We were always very busy with four kids. Never a break. And there’s this home video I think about a lot, even now. It’s Christmas morning, they’re about five or six, opening their presents. Their mother and I are helping one or both of the other boys with something. And there’s a good thirty seconds or so where she's holding a gift that she needs help opening, a doll or something, and she repeatedly calls for her mom. Over and over. She never gets upset, she’s very calm, no crying. And nobody turns. I watch it now and I can’t understand how neither of us heard her. But of course, Benji hears her, and he goes over and grabs a pair of scissors and helps her open the package. That’s how it always was with them. They didn’t need us.”

He sighed, “And then when Benji died it was… Well, it was like she went adrift and we had no idea how to even begin to try to anchor her. Benji would have. I remember her crying that day in the hospital, hysterically sobbing by the time we got there. And then never again. I never saw her cry after that. She was the one who made all the funeral arrangements, picked out his casket, picked out a plot at the cemetery. She fundraised so we didn’t have to worry about the medical bills or funeral costs. She put together slide shows and picked out music. She picked the restaurant we went to after the burial. And I don’t think any of it was because she wanted to do that. We didn’t give her much choice. Her mom and I fell apart. Neither of us could get out of bed. And I think she heard Benji calling for us, like he heard her that Christmas morning.”

He shook his head and sniffled, “Her mother doesn’t like to see it that way, but I think out of all our kids, I think we failed her. And I don’t blame her for not coming home.”

Finally, he looks at Robby, “I’m not sure why I told you all that. I guess maybe I’m hoping that you’ll figure out how to anchor her. That she won’t be lost at sea the rest of her life.”

Robby looks down at his beer bottle and sighs before looking back up at the man, “I’m sure as hell trying.”

***

“So, the new boyfriend is also a doctor?” Tommy was perched on the counter, sipping a beer. Their mother was stirring various things on the stove and shoving things in and out of the oven while shouting at people to get out of the kitchen. You were mopping up some sort of sauce from the floor and throwing out shattered pieces of glass.

“Yes.” You said, “He’s not new though, we’ve been dating for two years now.”

“Well he’s new to us because you never come home.” Your mother interjected.

You looked back down at the floor, “God, grant me the serenity,” You murmured as you threw larger pieces of glass into the trash.

“Mom’s right, you know,” Tommy said, “Ever since Benji died you basically abandoned us.”

Your hands stilled for only a moment and then you were moving again, “I was in college, and then medical school, and then residency, Tommy. What the fuck did you want me to do, drop out and wallow in my misery like the rest of you did? Let it fucking eat me alive?”

There was sweet, blissful silence, for just a moment and then— “Maybe you should have instead of acting like a goddamn robot after he died. Might’ve done you some good. Might have bonded you with the rest of your family.” Your mother said.

Oh, you were so tired of all of this. Of the criticism of every little thing you had done since Benji died, down to the way you had grieved. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I had been competing in the grief olympics.”

“Come on, Ace, she didn’t mean it like that—“ Tommy started.

“Yes she did.” You said, “Didn’t you, mom? You don’t think I grieved correctly, isn’t that right? What was it you said to me just fucking weeks after he died? ‘Do you even miss him?’”

She continued stirring, “I don’t remember it that way.”

You scoffed and returned to picked up glass, “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Ace…” Tommy said in warning.

“It’s fine, Tommy. I’m fine.” You said.

“Yes, your sister is always fine.” Your mother said, “The picture of composure, unlike her nuthouse of a family that she can’t stand to be around.”

You threw the last piece of glass into the trash harder than was necessary, “I need some air.” You murmured and then left before anyone else could say anything.

You ran into aunts and uncles and cousins on your way outside, forcing smiles and quick hugs until you hit the cold December air. You breathed in shakily as you pulled out your pack of cigarettes, lighting another.

As if he had been summoned, Robby appeared next to you, “You doing okay, Ace?”

You made a face at him, “Please don’t call me that.”

He smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him, “I saw some pictures of you and Benji when you were little. You were adorable, as expected.”

You hummed, cracking a small smile, “The only reason those are still up are because Benji’s in them. You’ll notice there’s no pictures up of me by myself. There’s barely any of Tommy or Luka either. It’s hard to compete for the favorite child when one of them is dead.”

Robby was quiet for a few moments and you thought you could actually hear the gears in his head turning. He took the cigarette from your hand and took a drag before handing it back to you, “I was talking to your dad, he’s very proud of you.”

“He said that?”

Robby nodded, "More or less."

You scoffed, “Well, nice of him to say it to you.”

“He’s never told you?”

You shook your head, “We’ve barely spoken since Benji. He looks at me and all he sees is the son he lost.”

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

You took a step away from him, “Why are you sorry? This is what you wanted, right? Why you wanted to come? So you could see up close and personal why I’m so fucked up?”

He shook his head, “Come on, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Lash out at me after you were just vulnerable. You do this all the time. It’s fucking exhausting.”

You scoffed, “What’s exhausting is you bringing us here when I fucking told you it would be a disaster. And now, on top of everything else,” You gestured wildly to the house, “I have to walk on glass around you too in a surely doomed attempt at making you want to stay.”

He shook his head sadly, “Baby, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You want to argue, but you feel the burning in your eyes and you can’t cry right now. So you turn away from him, breathing slowly, and finish your cigarette.

The front door opens, and with it, the sound of the stereo playing Christmas music and the competing of a dozen voices to be heard over it. The sound quickly vanishes when the door closes.

“Hey, Ace, mom’s looking for you, said she needs your help with the lasagna.” It’s Luka’s voice.

You sigh, “Why the fuck is she making lasagna for a feast of fishes?”

“You know no one eats the other shit,” He puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “You okay?”

You sigh heavily, frustrated that this check in from your older brother had increased the wetness in your eyes that you were actively fighting. You shrugged off his hand, “I’m fine.”

He nodded, but you knew he wasn’t convinced, “It is really good to have you home, Ace.”

You barked a laugh that sounded almost like a sob, “Don’t know why, all I do is piss off mom more than she already is.”

“She loves you,” He said quietly, “You know that.”

“Oh, fuck off, Luka.”

“What? I love you. We all love you. Hey, fuckin’ look at me, would you?” He grabbed you by the shoulders forcefully turned you, but his eyes darted to your hand and he frowned, “Are you bleeding?”

You looked at your hand that was holding the cigarette and found that you were, in fact, bleeding from a cut in your palm. You must have cut it on the glass in the kitchen when you were cleaning up.

“Ah, shit.” You sighed and put out your cigarette.

“Let me see?” Robby said instantly and reached for your hand.

You allowed it, him taking care of you even though you were capable of evaluating the wound yourself. It calmed you almost immediately, his touch as he focused on your injury.

“Do you guys have a first aid kit inside?” He asked.

Luka sighed, “Probably some bandages and rubbing alcohol, but I don’t know that you’ll find much else.”

“Robby, it’s fine, it can’t be that deep I didn’t even feel it.”

“I can’t tell with all the blood and it’s too dark out here,” He started leading you back to the house, “Come on, we’ll rinse it off and take a look.”

You rolled your eyes in Luka’s direction, who smirked and followed you both back inside.

With all the cooking going on, reentering the house felt akin to walking into a sauna. Combined with the noise level from all the shouting and music, you were instantly overwhelmed again. You allowed yourself to be led, Robby’s hand gently tugging on the wrist of your injured hand.

“I’ll go find those bandages,” Luka called out before disappearing upstairs.

Robby tugged you into the kitchen, which was the last place you wanted to be.

“Oh, finally, we’ve been looking for you—“ Your mother stopped when she saw your hand, “Well how the hell did you manage that?”

“Excuse me, Deb,” Robby said politely, “Could we use your sink?”

“Oh, of course,” She stepped out of the way and let Robby by. He turned the water on and started temperature checking it with his free hand, waiting for it to warm, “Must be nice having an emergency doctor as a boyfriend, especially for Ace, she’s such a clutz.”

You closed your eyes, “I’m an emergency medicine doctor, too, Ma.”

“Oh, but you’re just a student! You’re in your, what do they call that, when you’re practicing after med school, but not really—“

“A resident?” Robby offered.

“Yes!” Your mother snapped her fingers, “That’s it, you’re in your residency, dear.”

It was taking everything you had not to sigh. Robby pulled your hand under the water and you winced at the sting to your cut, “I finished my residency four years ago. I’m an attending now. Just like Robby.”

She was quiet for a moment, “No, that… That can’t be right. You were doing your residency at PTMC—“

“Yes, and then I did a fellowship in Boston and then I came back to PTMC. As an attending.”

She frowned, “You were in Boston? You never told me that.”

Robby pulled your hand out of the water and you felt his fingers near the wound again.

“Yes, I did. You just don’t listen to me unless it’s something that pertains to you.”

The room got quiet. Robby turned off the water.

Your mother laughed, breaking the silence, and poured herself another glass of wine, “Well, anywho, it must be nice to have someone to look after you. You were so clumsy as a kid!”

“Was she?” Robby asked, still laser focused on your wound, he was applying pressure with some paper towels. Luka had returned with supplies.

“Oh, yes! One time, I remember, she was helping set the table. She picked up this beautiful eggplant parmesan I had made, fresh out of the oven with her bare hands! And immediately dropped it, of course. Burned her hands. Whole dish shattered and cut her up. She has the cutest little scar on her leg.”

You almost laughed and you found the silence of your brothers very telling. Robby was wrapping gauze around your palm now, having cleaned out the wound, “You’ll need stitches, but I can do them later tonight. I have a suture kit at home.” He said quietly.

But you barely heard him over the roaring in your ears.

“That’s not how I remember it.” You said, deathly quiet and calm.

“What?” Your mother said, smile still on her face.

“The cut on my leg, that’s not how it happened.”

“Ace…” You heard Luka behind you, the warning clear in his voice.

“Oh, fuck you, Luka. I know you know it too you were there.”

Your mother laughed, “Well, what happened then, hm? Enlighten us.”

Tommy was shaking his head at you from behind your mother. Please, don’t. It said.

But you were so fucking tired of it all. The disappointment, the subtle jabs disguised as teasing, the rewriting of history.

You picked up Robby’s beer from the counter behind him and took a long drink, “What I remember is that you and dad were fighting and I said something that pissed you off, similar to most things I’ve said tonight, and as I was walking away, you flung the eggplant parmesan in my direction. When it shattered, the glass ricocheted off the floor and cut me, which is why the scar is on the back of my leg. Not the front.”

Tommy hung his head behind your mom. Nobody else moved, but you thought you could feel the tension radiating off Luka just behind you.

But after a few moments, your mother laughed, loudly. The sound was grating and you nearly winced. “You always did have such a wild imagination, you and Benji both.”

“I didn’t imagine it, that’s how it happened.”

“What was it that Benji used to say? Oh, that kid was so clever. He used to joke that if you weren’t so good at science you’d be a New York Times Bestseller with all the crazy stories you came up with!”

Your mother laughed more loudly this time, but everyone else in the room was quiet.

“Well, it’s too bad Benji’s not here.” You said coolly.

Your mother’s laugh died out. The only sound was of the range hood and the Christmas carols that were still blasting from the living room.

“And whose fault is that?” She said viciously.

In a way, it felt like a relief to hear her say it. All these years, you knew she blamed you. Probably resented that it was you who was with him when he went. She almost definitely wished it was you who was dead and not him. Well, she could get in line.

But mostly, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe. Your brothers were yelling around you, but you had no idea what they were saying. Robby had carefully placed himself in front of you. You thought maybe he was trying to break up the yelling. In another lifetime, perhaps, you would have found it funny that he was trying to break up a fight in your childhood home the same way he would break one up in the ER.

Quietly, you slipped away, passing your father in the hallway who called after you. Likely to ask you what the fuck was going on in the kitchen.

But you passed without a word and headed up the stairs.

Second door on the left, you could have found it with your eyes closed. The door creaked when you opened it, as it always had.

Closing it behind you, you reveled in the quiet first. The rest of the house was muffled from up here.

You trailed your fingers over the dusty sports trophies on their shelves, the CDs in a pile by the stereo.

You laid down on the navy blue bed that still, impossibly, smelt like him and stared at the popcorn ceiling. Glow in the dark stars stuck there. He had tried to pry many of them off when they became teenagers, but he could never get them all. Remnants of glue still stuck to the ceiling.

“I don’t understand why you have to fight with her so much.” Benji’s voice echoed in your head, “It’s easier to just placate her. We’ll be out of here soon anyway.”

“You don’t understand,” You had said through tears, “I’m the only girl. She has astronomically higher standards for me than she does for you. Or Luka or Tommy.”

“What does it matter?” He said, “Look, you’re way smarter than any of the rest of us. You’re going to get everything you’ve ever wanted, not because of her, but despite her.”

You shook your head, “And what if all I’ve ever wanted is for her to be proud of me? To be enough, just once?”

Benji had sighed and rested his head on yours, “Then I’ll be so stupid proud of you that you won’t even notice she’s not.”

Silent tears rolled down your face into your ears as you recalled the memory. You took his pillow and pressed it over your face.

***

Robby was beginning to understand it, now. Why you had been so afraid of bringing him here, of letting him in. He had thought all of it had been wrapped up in the grief of losing your brother, your twin, but this was clearly heaps and bounds more complicated than that.

He had expected maybe some tension and small tiffs, he had not expected learning that you were likely emotionally neglected as a child at best and physically abused at worst. He hadn’t expected to hear your mother outright blame you for your brother’s death. And he hadn’t expected to have to physically insert himself between you and your family for fear of a fight breaking out.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Robby shouted over the yelling, and they all turned to look at him in shock. But they were quiet, “What the fuck?” He said breathlessly, and looked straight at your mother.

“She’s fucking impossible, sometimes.” Your mother said bitterly, “I’m sure you know.”

He looked behind him and noticed that you were gone. Likely you had slipped outside for some air. He turned back to your mother, “Your son had congenital heart disease, as I understand it. There was nothing anyone could have done to save him. Especially not a nineteen year old girl.”

Deb was shaking her head, “She didn’t call us until he was already gone. We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to him because of her.”

Robby sighed and shook his head. This was a resentment that was more than a decade old. There was nothing he could say to make this better or make her see that you weren’t culpable for what happened to Benji. And it broke his heart that you had carried this for years, silently and alone. Never talking about Benji, likely because you didn’t feel you deserved to. If your own mother blamed you for the death of your twin, it was unlikely you didn’t blame yourself too.

While he was talking to your mother, Luka had swiftly left the room. He heard the sound of the front door opening and shutting, and then Luka was back.

“She’s not outside.” Luka said to Robby.

“Where else would she go?”

Tommy and Luka shared a look, Robby looked to and from both of them, “What?” He asked, impatiently.

“Benji’s room.” Luka said, quietly, “She’s probably with Benji. Upstairs, second door on the left.”

Robby nodded, “Thank you.” And headed up the stairs.

***

There was a knock at the door and you removed the pillow from your face. You weren’t sure you wanted anyone else to know you were in here, but judging by the quiet knock and the absence of someone yelling at you, you suspected it was Robby. Still, you hesitated.

“It’s me,” He said finally, “Can I come in, please?”

You sat up and put Benji’s pillow in your lap, “It’s open.”

You watched Robby enter the room, looking around first, before looking to you. You looked a bit like a vulnerable child in here, sitting on the tiny twin bed and legs crossed in front of you. Your eyes were bloodshot and your cheeks glistened wet with tears.

And when your eyes locked onto his, your face crumpled.

He pulled you into his arms immediately and was shocked when you didn’t push him away, but pulled him closer. He didn’t say anything, but rocked you gently and kissed your hair until you quieted.

“I would hope this would go without saying, but your mother was way fucking out of line.” He tightened his arms around you slightly, “But I know you and your tendency to blame yourself. I’ve watched you do it since you were just an intern. And so I wonder if all these years you had thought it was your fault and your mother repeating it back to you almost felt affirming.”

You didn’t say anything for a few moments, focusing on getting your breathing under control. You knew you had to have this conversation with Robby, there was no way to get out of it without losing him. He had seen everything you were so afraid of him seeing, and still he had come up here and held you. He hadn’t shied away from any of it.

“I know that rationally, there was nothing I could have done. But it doesn’t really make a difference. What if I had run a little faster? What if I had been CPR certified when he collapsed? What if—?”

“You’ll kill yourself thinking like that. You were nineteen. You were just a kid.”

“So was he. And every fucking birthday I’m reminded of how much he was shorted.”

Robby’s quiet for a moment, running a hand through your hair and gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, “How do you think Benji would feel if he knew you’d been carrying this around for fifteen years? That you never celebrate your shared birthday because you’re too busy playing the what if game?”

You looked around his room and sniffled, “He’d probably tell me I sound like our mom making everything about me and to get a fucking grip.”

Robby chuckled, “I think I would’ve liked your brother.”

You hiccuped and looked up at Robby, a sad smile on your face, “He would’ve liked you, too.”

He cupped your face in his hands and gently kissed you. The taste and smell of him was so familiar and comforting to you, you were sure your heart rate must have slowed back to normal rhythm while he kissed you.

When he pulled away, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I think we can get out of here now, what do you say?”

You balked, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah, is Chili’s open on Christmas Eve? I think you’ve earned a five dollar margarita.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s Happy Hour anymore, but it’s the thought that counts.” You laughed, “You’re sure? You were really adamant about coming here.”

“Yes,” He nodded, “and it resulted in you smoking, slicing your hand open, shotgunning at least four beers, and hysterically crying all in under two hours. Not to mention, I’m not going to force you to be polite to your mother after she blamed you for Benji in front of everyone.” He sighed, “I wanted you to let me in and you have. I’m sorry that I pushed so hard, I didn’t think—“

“No, it’s okay. You were right. I would’ve just kept pushing you away and then I would’ve lost you. So thank you, for pushing.” You took a deep shaky breath, “I’ve never spoken to anyone about Benji dying, what it felt like. Not even my brothers. I was always afraid it would be… too much.”

Robby shook his head and pressed more kisses to the side of your face, “Not too much. Never too much. I’m honored to know you, every piece.”

You inhaled shakily, “Well, you ready to go tell them we’re leaving?”

He allowed you to climb out of his arms and rise to standing, “I have no issue telling them exactly why we’re leaving. I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise.”

You huffed a laugh, “Yeah, well, you underestimate my mother’s ability to gaslight and manipulate, then.”

Sure enough, as they went downstairs to gather their coats and things, your mother waxed poetic about all the food she had made that would go to waste and how she never got to see you and how could you leave so early?

You had warned him, but Robby was still shocked at the way your mother pretended to have no idea why you could be leaving. To position herself as the victim in this scenario. She hadn’t even tried to apologize since you had padded back down the stairs.

“Thank you for inviting us, Deb, but it’s pretty clear that there’s a lot of open hostility between the two of you that is not conducive to the holiday spirit.” He grabbed your coat and helped you into it, rubbing down your arms soothingly once it was on, “I’d rather not see a physical fight break out between my girlfriend and her mother on Christmas Eve.”

Your mother looked at him incredulously, “Are you talking about earlier?” She laughed and playfully patted your arm, “Oh, that was nothing. We have little tiffs like that all the time. Or we used to, when she made time for us. Isn’t that right, Ace?”

You were staring silently at a spot on the wall and Robby noted that it seemed like you were dissociating. The more minutes that passed, the worse he felt for forcing you to come here, “If that was ‘nothing’ to you, then that just affirms my decision to remove us from the circus,” Robby said, forcing a smile and reaching behind the two of you to open the front door, “I would say it was lovely meeting you, but I’m not a very good liar.”

Once outside in the frigid night air, you immediately fished out your pack of cigarettes. Robby decided once you were home, he would toss them in the trash. Maybe buy the both of you a pack of nicotine gum for the foreseeable future. Just that one drag earlier coupled with the hectic nature of your childhood home had him craving a smoke.

“Hey, Robby!” It was one of your brothers who ran out of the house after the two of you. The older one, Luka, if his memory served him correctly.

He looked over Robby’s shoulder at you, lighting a cigarette, before focusing his attention back on Robby, “I just, um, wanted to say thank you for having Ace’s back in there.” He said softly, “I wish it was me who had the backbone to stand up for her.” Luka’s eyes shone with unshed tears in the moonlight, “Benji always took care of her and I think all the time how disappointed he would be that I don’t. It’s hard, with how our mother is to… to stand up to her sometimes. It’s stupid, I’m an adult now, but. She’s still my mom.”

He sighed heavily, “Anyway, sorry, I’m rambling, I just… Ace has brought a lot of men home over the years. Never more than once. They tend to disappear after seeing what a mess we all are. None of them ever had her back like that so I hope you stick around.” Luka smiled then and clapped Robby on the back, “Take care of my baby sister, please?”

Robby nodded and gave Luka a small smile, “Of course.”

Luka nodded back and then walked towards you, still smoking a cigarette a healthy distance away, “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hi,” You said as you exhaled cloud of smoke.

“I’m sorry about what mom said. She didn’t mean it, she’s drunk—“

“Don’t defend her.”

“I’m not.” Luka sighed and scratched his head, “Fuck, I don’t know, maybe I am. Whatever. The point is, it’s not fuckin’ true. Any of it. You did your best when Benji died, we all did. You were just a fuckin’ kid who took on way more than you should have. And I’m sorry that I never helped lessen the burden. I should have. As your older brother, I should have protected you.”

At this, you looked up at him and gave him a watery smile, “Thanks, Luka. But just so you know, I never blamed you or Tommy. For any of it.”

“I know.” He said, and pulled you into a one armed hug, kissing the top of your head, “Let him take care of you. Robby. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

A tear slid onto your cheek, “Okay.”

He released you and started backing away from both you and Robby, “See you next year?”

At that, you laughed, “Only if you’re paying for my therapy bills.”

He laughed and then waved before turning back towards the house, hands in his pockets.

***

Back at Robby’s house, full of too many Southwestern Eggrolls and margaritas, you sat at his kitchen counter with your wounded hand unwrapped and cradled in both of Robby’s hands. You watched as he carefully sutured you, filled with so much tenderness for him after the night you’d had, you thought you might burst with it.

“Luka mentioned that the boyfriends you've brought home tended to leave after meeting your family.” Robby said as he worked, “Was that why you were so afraid to bring me?”

“Yeah, that was a big part of it. I also just didn’t think I was ready for you to see all of me, like that.”

He finished up the last suture and cut the excess. Then began wrapping your hand again. “You know, when you first started your residency, I used to talk with Adamson about how you were the only resident I ever met who never, ever seemed phased by anything that happened in the ER. You never had that adjustment period everyone else has, of figuring out how to adapt to the chaos. You operated like the chaos was all you’d ever known. I wish I could tell him that I finally figured out why.”

You chuckled at that, “I think he knew, actually.”

Robby looked up at you, “Really?”

You nodded slowly, “Well, I had to tell him about Benji when the anniversary came up so that I wouldn’t be scheduled that day. But, early in my residency, there was one day I kept getting repeated calls from my mother. He overheard when I picked it up. I don’t even remember what she was upset about, just that I had to spend a few minutes talking her down from the ledge. The way a parent would to a child. And when I hung up, he said he didn’t know I had kids.” You laughed now, recalling the memory, “Anyway, when I explained, humiliated, that it was actually my mom calling, he didn’t really say anything. But he had that look on his face, you know the one, when he’s finally solved a puzzle he’s been working on for weeks.”

Robby smiled fondly. It was lovely to see him reminisce about Adamson in a joyful way. He had had to work really hard for that, you knew. You hoped you’d get there one day yourself.

He gently patted your hand after a moment, “Well, wound is taken care of. You ready for bed?”

You yawned, “Yes, please.”

You crawled into sheets that smelt like Robby and curled up into his side. You felt a bit silly now that you had ever been afraid of him meeting your family. You had watched him manage an emergency room for years, near flawlessly. To him, your mother was just another irritable patient. And he was really, really good at managing irritable patients.

“Thank you,” You said softly into the dark, “For taking care of me.”

He hummed and lightly scratched at your scalp, “Of course. I’ve got you,” He murmured, “Always.”

#this is a must read #especially if you have mommy issues #grief gang #the pitt #dr robby #fic recs #the pitt fanfiction

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dontcurbyourenthusiasm · 1 month ago

Text

Hashtag Worth it

(aka Play that Funky Music White Boy pt. 2)

(@lousolversons the gif god)

Warnings: None rlly, mentions of blood/vomit/pee, thats it! Just a whole lotta fluff (also not beta read so sorry for any errors!)

Description: Library books must be returned, and cute mousey haired boys must be kissed. It's the law of the land.

Word Count: 3.5k

---

Ever since Funky Music blasted through your place of work, you were unable to think of anything else. Every time those automatic doors whooshed open, your heartbeat would pick up as you prepared yourself for those puppy dog eyes and tousled brown hair. It had been weeks for Christ sake, but still you found yourself lingering by the Kid's Corner, long after you shelved the last children's book, just because it had a better view of the door.

You even started waking up earlier to do your hair before work. When you wore new earrings with a necklace to match, thats when your coworkers started to notice.

"Are you seeing someone?" Bess bluntly asks while in you were re-shelving by Philosophy and Psychology.

"Who would I be seeing Bess? I spend all my time here." You don't bother to stop shelving while answering with a beleaguered sigh.

Bess is not sold. "Then why are you getting all dressed up?" She pauses in thought. "Oh! Are you having a quarter life crisis?" She chirps in a sunny tone. Bess often got bored at work, the quiet of the library unnerving her more than anything. She also often, took out her boredom on you.

You try your hardest not to roll your eyes. "I had my quarter life crisis at 17 thank you very much," you reply, with the misplaced hope that she would drop the subject.

"Well, whats gotten into you lately? You're wearing jewelry, you keep checking your phone when I know your mom is the only person that texts you-"

"Thanks for that" you grumble.

"-so what is it? Do you have a new boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? C'mon throw me a bone" she begs. "Nothing interesting ever happens in my life so I need you to do it for me."

Your mind flashes back to Dennis.

Mr. Funky Music.

Honestly, you wish you had something interesting to tell Bess. But you didn't. The situation couldn't be clearer. You pulled out your best flirty moves, recommended him books, AND gave him your phone number, but he never called you or bothered to come back. What bruised your ego even more, was that at the time, you could swear he was picking up what you were putting down.

At this point it seemed like he wouldn't ever come back; not even to return his book, which was now overdue by 2 days.

"I promise you Bess, I am completely, absolutely, utterly, PAINFULLY single-"

You're interrupted by the sheepish grin that has been haunting you for the past 3 weeks and 2 days.

Not that anyone was counting.

"I don't know if you remember me? I'm back for the other books you recommended," is all he says innocently, like he hasn't been stuck in the wrinkles of your brain.

"Hi" you blink blankly at him for a moment before finally registering his words. "Yes, right the books. I saved them in the back... do you wanna..." you motioned in the direction of the storage room.

"Sure," he answers before his gaze moves to a very amused Bess. "Hi I'm Dennis" he offers a hand.

She shakes his it, grinning like a hyena. "Bess," is all she says before slinking away.

As you make your way to the storage room, he starts by apologizing. "I'm really sorry it's overdue I didn't have time to come by and return it."

"Oh, it's no problem, we get overdue books all the time" You wave him off nonchalantly, like you haven't been refreshing his account on the desk computer everyday.

"I don't really get much time to read." The timid tenor of his voice gives you an edge of confidence.

"Oh yea? What are you so busy doing?" You tease.

"I'm a med student. Fourth year. It's when we do our rounds in actual hospitals."

Holy shit. Dennis Funky Music was actually Doctor Dennis Funky Music.

"What speciality are you thinking?" You ask, partly out of curiosity but mostly because the idea of him being a pediatrician made your ovaries want to explode.

"I'm in the ED right now."

ok thank god not a pediatrician. You were in no financial means to even THINK about having a child. But ED?

"Eating disorder? Erectile disfunction?" you raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"No! No, the Emergency Department" he hastily corrects, face flushing slightly.

Well shit. This adorably bug eyed barn mouse was actually an emergency doctor??

Picturing him running around, with a stethoscope around his neck and blood splattered on his scrubs made your palms sweat.

"Ah, so thats why you never called. Too busy saving lives" You reply, hinting casually to the unresolved matter of your little sticky note.

"I didn't know you wanted me to call" he says simply, his eyes wide.

Ugh you wanted to kiss that clueless little pout off his face

"I don't know about you, but I don't typically give out my number to people who I WOULDN'T want calling me."

"That's... true" he shrugs as if he's realizing that possibility for the first time.

You open the door to the storage and room and motion for him to follow. "This is where the magic happens."

It smelled of dust and old paper, probably because that's all that sat in there; old damaged books that needed to be thrown out, new books that still needed barcodes, or books in the return bin that needed to be sorted and re-shelved. On the floor next to the return bin was a small stack of books with a sticky note placed on top that read:

Dennis Whitaker (Funky Music)

He crouches down reaching for the books in the stack, opening them to read the inside cover. You settle next to him, sitting cross legged, back leaning against a nearby desk.

"I'll have you know, my recommendations have changed slightly, now that I know you're a doctor."

He pauses reading and peers at your curiously from the corner of his eye. "Oh? Why is that?"

"Some of the books in here are like, 700 pages. I doubt you have time for a book like that if you're running around saving people 12 hours a day."

"You're probably right," he concedes with a light chuckle, "But some of these look really good" he says eyes glued to the back covers.

You can't help the warm feeling that blooms in your chest.

This was what brought you to the library. And what kept you here. There was something so intimate about sharing a piece of literature. Especially if it was a book. It was like saying, 'here. I was immersed in a completely different world and I still thought of you.'

You don't realize that you're staring until he starts talking.

"So..." he starts fiddling with one of the books, picking at the barcode sticker. "You said something back there about being... painfully single?" He quotes you from earlier and you wrinkle your nose at the reminder.

Welp, he already heard it, why lie.

"Yep. Just me and a ficus." You admit.

"Well, I am... also single... as well" he trails off, his gaze nervously flickering to yours every few seconds.

Oh.

Your lips can't help but turn up into a cheesy smile.

"Dr. Whitaker. Are you asking me out?" You teasingly bump his shoulder with your own.

"Yea, if you're okay with it, obviously. And technically I'm not a doctor yet." he returns your gaze with a soft smile and it pinches your heart in an unfamiliar way.

"Well then, I'm off at three. Can you wait till three?" You check your phone.

You watch his light up at your response. "Yes. Yep, I can wait till three"

"Great!" You move to stand, sticking your hand out to help him up. His hands are slightly rough, probably from the vigorous washing and hand sanitizer, but his grip is gentle and sturdy. It made you wonder how many people he'd saved with these very hands. It also made you wonder if your hands ever fit together this well with anyone else.

When you usher him out and shut the storage room door behind you, your eyes catch Bess' from World Languages. She mouths 'nice' while holding her pointer and thumb in an 'ok' sign.

You roll your eyes and make your way to the circulation desk.

"I just need your library card," he slides it over on the counter before you finish your sentence, something resembling pride in his eye.

"I really liked the book." He says and you must've looked a bit confused because he immediately clarifies, "The one you first recommended me. The one with your number in it. I liked it for more than just your number, though the number was also nice"

FUCK he was cute when he talked. Did any man look good when he talked?

If any man had, you were positive you'd never seen it.

"It was one of my favourite short stories," you add. "It was a little different than Call of the Wild so I worried a bit, but looks like I worried for nothing." You smile as you check in the new book.

The Lamp at Noon.

It had been one of your favourites since you were forced to read it in high school, and something about him made you think he might like it too.

Before you knew it, you were quickly whisked back to work, as more children came in with books they wanted to renew, check out, and return. There was also a bin full of returned books that needed to be reorganized. While you worked, you were still able to sneak glimpses of Dennis, settled in a chair in the corner, nose deep in the new book you gave him.

"So, did you and Linguine do it in the storage room?" Bess' wolfish voice materializes from behind you.

"Ew. And what? Linguine?" You turn your head to convey your disgust and confusion directly.

"You know... from Ratatouille. The chef guy not the rat" her gazes fixes back on Dennis.

"Why would you-" You stop mid sentence.

Huh. Now that she mentioned it, you guess he did kind of look like that guy from Ratatouille.

His big round, down turned eyes that reminded you of a lost puppy, the slight skittishness, and his tousled brown hair, and even the soft tone of his voice.

"Ok ew don't do that," Bess makes a fake gagging noise. "Your lovesick look is disgusting."

"I am NOT lovesick. I barely know the guy." You punctuate the words, like you are trying to convince more than just Bess.

"Denial is a river in Egypt" she hums back at you. "Also," she adds casually, "you can head home early if you want. I'll re-shelve the rest in the bin today."

"Wait really?" it comes out a bit more eager than you expected.

"Yes, now go collect your boy before he melts into a puddle on the floor"

You don't even bother to correct her. You are already shrugging off your work vest and grabbing your bag by the storage room.

Bess' lip curls into a smile, muttering something that sounds like "fuckin' knew it" to herself.

You walk over to where he was, eyes still intently focused on the pages. He doesn't register you until you gently nudge his shoe with your own.

"Are you-" he checks the time on his phone. "Are you done already?"

"Bess let me get off early" you can't help but smile warmly. "Ready to go?"

"Yes" He shoots up to his feet.

Once standing your faces are much closer than either of you anticipated, but you don't move away. You see him his eyes widen in realization, immediately moving his gaze to the ceiling tiles.

He smells like soap and something else vaguely familiar. Kind of like when you walk into someone else's house at their 'home' smell reminds you of somewhere you've already been.

"You smell nice." Is all you say before starting towards the door. But just before you turn away, you can see his cheeks start to redden.

You opt to stop by the coffee shop a couple blocks from the library. You learned to love it after long shifts because of the reasonably priced coffee, bagels, and comfy cushioned booths (why all these swanky new coffee places decided to have rigid plastic chairs from hell, you had no idea).

As you both approached the menu, you could see his shoulders tense a little. After you give your order to the cashier you see him shake his head.

"You don't want anything?"

"I ate before I came here." Is all he says.

You don't reply and simply turn back to the counter to order two of each: the bagels and coffee.

"You really didn't ha-"

"I want to." you cut him off, and something in your tone kept him from arguing further. He shoots you a grateful smile. And that was the end of it.

After you are able to grab your food and settle down, you are quickly knee deep in work stories, as you both did little else and your jobs technically forced you to serve the public.

"I once had a kid throw up on me, and the kid's mom yelled at me like I was the one who made him eat three hotdogs and run around in circles."

"I might have you beat." An eyebrow quirks up at his words and you lean on your elbows, tilting towards him. "The first day of my ED rotation, I had to change my scrubs like 5 times. Twice because of blood, and another time because of an unsecured bottle of Mylanta, but the kicker was, I got urinated on while trying to subdue a patient."

"Okay you win" hands up in mock surrender. Hot dog kid was rough but at least you've never been pissed on. "That must've sucked"

He shrugs it off too casually in a manner even for a man who's job required him to be covered in bodily fluids. "It didn't end up being that bad. He was really nice about it. Just ended up being a guy struggling being off his meds without health insurance. That's actually how I learned about the street team." he pauses, smiling to himself softly before his smile transitions to a more mischievous one. "Plus, the same day, another intern dropped a scalpel INTO another doctor's foot so..."

All you could do was giggle at the joke and inspect the soft look in his eye.

He continued with a few of his stories from his time on the street team. The people he encountered, the glimpses of their lives he saw, and how it changed the way he worked back at the ED. The whole time you couldn't tear yourself away from his eyes. The gentle understanding and compassion was palpable; radiating off of him.

From working in a public library you also had your experiences with houseless people in the community. Many would come to use the washrooms, use wifi, print things, or even take a nap on the couches. Although you did your best to make sure the library was a comfortable place for them, you knew not everyone felt the same way.

You learned quickly from work that something that seemed as obvious as respecting someone's basic humanity wasn't guaranteed.

"So why the library?" He asks.

"I like books." you shrug and he looks at you intently like he knows theres more underneath. So you continue. Crack yourself open a touch. "I've always liked them. When written right, I feel the characters like they're real people, like they're my friends or something."

You knew how that sounded to other people; like you were a friendless recluse, obsessing over people that didn't exist; figments of your imagination. While that was true to some degree, you weren't a hermit. You had real life friends and a semi-operational social life, and you found these relationships incredibly fulfilling. But it didn't mean that the humanity of reading a book and experiencing someone's innermost thoughts and feelings was any less sacred.

"Human emotions are able to transcend time; I'm able to feel something someone wrote about 200 years ago. I feel like it's the closest thing we have to time travel."

He quirks his head in thought. "I guess... I guess I've never thought about it like that."

And you're left without anything to say because of that look on his face.

His eyes.

Even when he wasn't looking at you, you could almost see the gears turning in his brain, holding on to your every word. Now that he was looking at you, it felt like he was taking the time to absorb each and every word. Trying to absorb you.

It's an unfamiliar feeling; someone paying so much attention to you. Not to analyze you, or grade you, or lodge a complaint to the library board, but just to know you.

The realization made your heart pinch again. The same way it did back the first time, when his ringtone scared the shit out of him, and before, when he asked you out in the storage room. There's a split second where you don't know what to do with the feeling; you don't know where to put it. His sincerity sort of...

scared you.

Not in a bad way obviously, but in a way that was so clearly unfamiliar to you. People (least of all men) were rarely this attentive, or in tune with themselves or with you. His motives, his thoughts, his desires were all so clear. He was so transparent in a way that made you wanna do the same. It was something you didn't quite know you were signing up for when you ambushed with him while he was reading or when you put your number in his book.

But maybe you were ready for it.

"I really like you" is all you say, getting it out before you talk yourself out of it.

He looks a little surprised, but his face quickly softens into a smile.

"I like you too" he looks down at his drink for a moment. "... alot."

You take a quick scan of the cafe. Most of the patrons had left for the evening, leaving you two and an older couple as the sole patrons across the floor, all the way by the doors.

Without the pressure of extra eyes, you scooch into his side of the booth and slide a hand on top of his.

You feel his fingers tense up under your palm and there’s a flash of doubt in your mind before he curls your intertwined fingers into his palm.

That gives you the bravery to take one last look around the coffee shop before sneaking a quick peck to his right cheek. You can't help the giddy smile that curls on your lips as his cheeks turn red under the skin your lips just touched. His puppy dog eyes are wide and his lips are parted slightly in a way that is painfully kissable. You watch as his flush travels up his ears, and you're openly oogling him when he surprises you by asking:

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is a little hoarse, but his eyes are sincere and searching.

Completely unexpected (but not unwelcome) you're only able to nod, and his other hand, the one not curled under your own, reaches over to cup your cheek, fingertips just grazing your scalp.

You expected a peck; everything about him lead you to believe it would be.

But the firmness of his grip and the heat behind his lips catches you off guard for half a second. Your body catches up to him before your mind does, as you return the gentle pressure of his lips with your own. You can't help your tongue as it moves to lightly graze his lower lip. You feel his breath hitch before he returns the favour.

An abrupt cough rips the two of you apart.

"We're closing in 5 minutes" A very unimpressed teenager in the cafe uniform stares down at the two of you, mop in hand.

"Yep! Uh- right. Sorry, we'll be right out!" Dennis scrambles for your stuff, ushering you out of the booth while you are still a little dazed, pressing your lips together in effort to hold in a laugh.

Your laughter finally breaks when the door of the cafe shuts behind you both. He gazes down at you amused, chuckling alongside you.

"I can't believe you got me kicked out of my favourite coffee shop" you muse.

"Don't blame me, you started it" he raises his hands in mock surrender. You take a second to drink in his expression; eyes still slightly crinkled with remains of his laughter and his cheeks still slightly pink.

"Hashtag worth it."

"You did not just hashtag something in real life" he deadpans.

You quickly bring your lips to his in a quick peck, pulling away quickly.

Could someone be addicted to kissing?

"I did, big time" your tone is casual but a sly smile gives you away, as you walk toward the bus stop. There's a beat of silence before you hear his rapid footsteps catching up to you.

---

AFJGYODISIHUDYSGUEB thank you for reading, I really did love writing this, Whitaker deserves all the love in the world and I really love writing fluff. I already have ideas for a 3rd part, involving an introduction to the rest of the Pitt gang so if yall would be into that lemme know!!!! (also some smut next maybe...)

Here are some Whitaker x You meeting Santos headcanons!

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