kja06

[kja06]

Boy dad Jack who’s tornadoes run away with his prosthetic because “it’s funny daddy”

Boy dad Jack who is constantly being woken up to “construction” or “racing” noises from them playing downstairs

Boy dad Jack sending the tornadoes to Robby for a night because they are mommas boys and Jack needs a night to worship (fuck the shit) outta her

How I feel when I spread the boy dad!jack agenda #slay

[kja06]

OKAY Jack and Robby cock warming you at the same time. AND instead of them moving and giving you relief they just make out with you in between them

[kja06]

A Mistake Worth Repeating / M. Robinavitch

summary: waking up naked next to the day shift attending ensures nothing chaos.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smuuuut, one night stands, my attempt at humor in a language that’s not my mother tongue, unprotected sex, breeding, age gap (late 20s/50), oral (F&M), urgh just basic manhandling from Robby cause it’s canon, English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 4.3k+

an: this was supposed to be a long filled with heavy plot kind of fic but it wasn’t fun anymore to write it so I cut it short:( i have two longer fics planned for the future so for now enjoy this! A very special thank you to @m-robinavitch for putting up with my thoughts💕💕

“Robby!”

Your giggles fill the hotel suite as he buries his face into your neck, his beard scratching the soft skin slightly. He has you pressed into the door, one knee between your legs, with one hand bracing himself next to your head and the other holding your jaw in place.

You’re drunk, he is drunk, and the shots you took at the bar together just fueled the mood for more trouble. Not just the shots, but the way you’ve been glancing at each other all night from across the room before you stepped next to the other subtly, without anyone noticing.

He was funny in telling you about Jack’s rendezvous with Samira and how they would sneak around and try to act nonchalant when someone confronted them. You didn’t dare to interrupt him, tell him you have already heard all those little dates they could manage to make time for.

Nevertheless, he managed to charm you without trying too hard, especially since you haven’t started your rotation between night and day shifts yet, so he had your thighs clenching together nicely.

“I’ve been holding myself back from touching you all night, doll,” he mutters against your skin, loving back to your lips to press a quick rough kiss on them, “Looking like a dream in this dress, I can only imagine how better you’d look without it.”

“Lucky you, you’re about to find out,” you say, guiding his hands to the zipper of your dress before reaching to untuck his shirt from his pants, slowly unbuttoning it while his tongue dances with yours in your mouth, tasting the tequila you had earlier.

He pulls your zipper down, his hand sneaking under the fabric as soon as a sliver of your skin is exposed, feeling the heat of your body while he sucks the air out of your lungs.

There is no space left between your bodies. He is crushing you against the door with his tall frame and his shoulders cage you with ease, not to mention how he lets a little of his weight press on you to pin your body just where he wants you.

His fingers dig into your back as he litters his kisses down to your collarbone, breathing heavily against your skin when you finally put your hands on his exposed chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and his heartbeat under your touch.

“Fuck it,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, pushing the straps of the dress down until he has the fabric pooling around your waist, baring your tits to his hungry eyes, “Jesus— I wanted to taste you, but we’ll get to that later.”

You don’t have time to process his words when he groans and starts biting the line of your breast, leaving his teeth mark until he reaches your nipple, sucking on the tightened bud vigorously, humming as he feels your flesh moving with each time his cheeks hollow.

You throw your head back on the door, one of your hands moving to his head while the other scratches his chest and stomach slowly, gasping when he pulls back just a little to blow cold air on your wet nipple.

“You’re crazy,” you chuckle breathlessly — already this out of breath is pretty shocking — and look at him with hooded eyes, waiting impatiently for more.

“You drive me crazy,” he mumbles on your chest, clearly enjoying how you push his face closer to your other breast, and he takes no longer than a second to start kissing a path from your sternum down to your belly, ignoring your whining as he denies your silent request.

He gets down on both knees, pushing up your dress without breaking eye contact, his hands roaming your bare thighs before moving to pull down the strings of your thong, letting the thin fabric drop around your ankles. He helps you out of one of them, grabbing the back of your thighs and hauling one leg over his shoulders — the one with your thong dangling from your foot — before he starts planting kisses from your knees up to your inner thigh.

His eyes never leave yours, not for a second, as he takes in every micro expression on your face, from the little hitch in your breath to the way you frown at the pain of his teeth sinking into your flesh with need.

He doesn’t dive in head first into your pussy, instead, he slowly kisses your bikini line, teasing your further until he reaches your wet folds, groaning at the musky scent of your wetness before he licks a stripe from your hole up to your pubic bone, making your back arch off the door.

“I want to make you come on my face,” he whispers, pushing his tongue between your folds while he closes his eyes at the taste, humming and pushing himself closer to you as much as he can, “No, I need to make you come.”

That’s it. That’s his undoing as he buries his face into your cunt in a second without hesitation. You don’t have time to brace yourself, even though you were expecting him to turn into a total menace and eat you out like a late-night snack.

The tip of his tongue circles your clit, eyes closed and brows pulled into a pleased frown before he engulfs your bud with his mouth, sucking on the nerves like his life depends on it, his hand on your thigh pressing you into the wooden door behind you.

You clutch the back of his head, gasping and bucking your hips into his face as he flattens his tongue again, suckling faster and harder. No one has ever managed to make you come just by going down on you, and it’s happening stupidly fast. You are not to blame for this; it is all Robby’s doing with how he finally opens his eyes and looks at you, raising a taunting eyebrow at your euphoric expression.

He looks good between your thighs, he looks like he belongs there, on his knees just to bring you to your high. You look down at him with parted lips as moans of his name fall from them like a prayer, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening while he watches you in awe as you fall apart on his tongue.

The orgasm comes fast, sharp, exploding like a bomb through you. It is a mix of everything, truly; Robby’s blown pupils, the smugness in his orbs, the way his fingers dig into your hips, his beard burning your skin. It becomes too much suddenly, and you release all over his face, which he drinks up like a man starved.

“Robby!”

You throw your head back, not knowing whether you are pushing his head away or you are pulling him closer. But you are sure of one thing: he just gave you one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of your life, and he knows it.

“Fucking delicious,” he groans against your drenched folds, slowly standing up while he kisses your hips, then your belly and up to your chest, until he reaches your neck, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

You know he is lying, especially with the amount of alcohol you both had, but it doesn’t matter. He is too fucking sexy when he is sucking unforgivable marks on the expanse of your shoulders and jaw.

“Do you wanna taste yourself, doll? Should I kiss you now?”

You nod eagerly, fisting his coat before you yank him closer, crashing your lips into his, feeling his wet beard rubbing against your face so deliciously. He kisses back just as passionately, pulling you away from the door with one palm over your ass — grabbing a handful as soon as he can — and the other on your back to guide you to the bed.

You both stumble over your steps, and if it wasn’t for Robby being more sober — barely but still — you would end up dead with a cracked skull. 

You can feel him trying to turn you around and lie you down on the bed, but you are quicker than he and stand stiff for a second before you make sure you both are standing in front of the foot of the bed, pulling away from his lips for a second.

“What are you doing—holy fuck,” he chuckles when you push him on his back, basically letting him land on the bed with a little jump. He looks so big from this angle, splayed out on the bed with his legs spread and sitting on his elbows, chest open to your greedy eyes, and the tie hanging around his neck loosely.

“Your turn now,” you shimmy out of your dress, standing naked between his long legs before slowly lowering yourself on your knees, biting your lip when you notice how he is looking at you, with red cheeks, swollen lips, and desperate for more.

“You don’t have to—“

“But I want to,” you whisper, running your palms over his covered thighs, eyes finally falling on the impressive bulge in his pants. “There is a myth going around, thanks to Myrna, that you’re hung like a horse. I have to see it for myself.”

“I didn’t know the night shift talked about my dick,” he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes glazing over your satisfied smirk as you kiss the throbbing member through his pants before licking a stripe from the bottom of the zipper up to where you assume his tip is.

“Myrna talks, we discuss,” you shrug, reaching to undo his belt, sucking on your bottom lip as you feel him twitch in his pants already. You pull the belt out of the loops, dropping it on the floor before you reach for his button, then you lean down, grabbing the zipper between your teeth and slowly dragging it down, smirking at how Robby fists the sheets so he doesn’t embarrass himself.

He raises his hips to help you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock from the tightness of the fabrics after being hard for a good few hours since he started drinking with you.

It is no longer a myth; he is big. Not just big, but thick, long, and so fucking pretty. You have seen a few dicks when you had the chance during med school, but this is pretty as fuck. His tip is pink and leaking with precum, the base is a few shades darker than his skin, and there is a bush coating his pelvis.

“So?”

“I think I’ll die if I don’t get you in my mouth now.” You blink at him, giving him your best puppy eyes you can, “Do you mind if I get a bit messy?”

“Be my guest, doll,” he reaches for your face, his hand cupping the side of your face as you angle the head of his cock to your mouth, gathering your spit in your mouth as much as you can before you drop the globe on him, your hand moving to coat his entire member with it, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You rub the wet tip over your lips before licking it, humming at the bitter and salty taste of his precum before you move lower, letting your lipstick that left a stain on Robby’s face do the same on the base of his cock too. 

You move back up to take him in your mouth, opening your jaw more to take him inside — his base is a bit thicker than the rest of him — gagging when the tip hits the back of your throat. 

Fuck, he looks so good now; cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with lust, and fingers threading through your hair. Robby’s lips are parted, ragged breaths falling from them as he rests his hand on your head, watching you work your way on his cock before slowly pulling back.

“Fuck my face?” You ask so sweetly, voice dripping with desire, waiting for his answer, and when he hesitates, running his thumb over your eyebrow, you pout a little, “Please?”

“Tap my thigh whenever you want to stop, alright?”

You nod eagerly, giggling before you put him in your mouth again, lowering your head until he is back inside your throat, resting your hands on his thighs.

“Good girl,” he sighs, pushing your head down a bit more, groaning at the feeling of your throat tightening around him at the praise, “You liked that, didn’t you?”

You want to nod, but you have got a mouthful of him for now. Later, you have a more important mission than telling him you liked the praise. You reach for his hand, pressing it down to tell him it’s okay, but he doesn’t.

“Why aren’t you—“

“I want to watch you do it,” he smirks, nodding at your hands, “Put them behind your back and fuck your own throat, doll.”

“Why?” The proposition excites you even more than him fucking you himself, because it is much hotter to have him watch while you do all the dirty work to please him.

“I wanna see how good you take the lead.”

You don’t need him to say anything more; instead, you lock your hands behind your back, watching with bated breath as he grabs hold of his cock and slaps it against your cheek before you chase the tip with eager mouth, taking him in immediately.

Robby hums, caressing your head while you begin to bob your head up and down his length, pulling groans and sighs out of his lips with ease, even gagging when the tip goes deeper down your throat. 

He loves this. He loves the way you are so excited to please him, how ready you are to give up control and listen to him. He lets you set the pace — which to his delight is quite fast — and with each movement, the moans you let out vibrate through his dick and make his balls tighten.

He is getting close; he doesn’t want this to finish too soon, you can tell. He is not the young man he used to be, but this only spikes your interest to go faster until he has to yank you off his cock, shaking his head with a breathless laugh as you loll out your tongue and lick from his base to the tip.

“Not too fast, I wanna enjoy this,” he nods for you to join him on the bed as he sits up, shrugging off his shirt and tie, dropping his pants to his ankles while you straddle him, knees spread wide around his large frame, “I’ll lose my fucking mind now, c’mon, ride me, doll.”

“Gladly,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him on his back again before grabbing his cock, holding him up by the base before you mount him, slowly lowering yourself, “Fuck, fuck, Robby—“

You suck in a sharp breath as you sit on him, trying not to take him all in at once, but he feels too good to stop anyway. He feels bigger inside you than when he did in your mouth, and he is stretching your walls so deliciously that your eyes roll to the back of your head, thighs clenching around his hips, and hands bracing your weight on his chest.

Robby reaches to hold you by your waist, cooing gently when you hiccup, and finally takes all of his fat cock inside you, his tip kissing your cervix with each micro movement. He closes his eyes to enjoy the warmth that’s enveloping his entire length, his grip tightening on you as you slowly begin to rock your hips, circling them gently with your mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut.

“You good there?” He asks, the cockiness dripping from his tone when he notices how you are struggling to move up and down, thighs burning and cunt filled with him, “Come on, doll, I thought you wanted to ride me.”

“I do—“ you gasp as you lift yourself a little by putting more pressure on his chest, dropping back down quickly, making him groan at the feeling, “Help me a little, please?”

“How can I say no when you are asking so sweetly?” His grin matches yours as his hands move down to grab the globes of your ass, helping you move up and down faster, his strength catching you off guard.

You rake your nails in his pecs, moving down to his stomach while you feel how close you are getting, your clit catching the happy trail leading to his cock while you throw your head back and keep up your pace.

“Fuck me– faster, please, please—“

Robby pulls out of you instantly, flipping you on your back before he steps out of his pants before crawling on top of you, grabbing the pillow next to your head before he places it under your hips, holding your thighs so he can pull you closer. He drops your knees over his elbows, hand moving to your hips as he watches you line him up with your wet entrance again.

“So fucking good, doll, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he practically whines when he thrusts all of his length inside you in one move, picking up where he left with how fast he is fucking you, driving his cock into your cunt with a dark glint in his eyes, “Touch yourself, make yourself come.”

One hand fists the bedsheets and the other travels down to your clit, two fingers moving in circles as you arch your back off the bed, wailing at the feeling of him angling his hips in hope of finding your sweet spot — which he does after a few seconds. 

“What a vision you are… fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” His chest rises and falls rapidly, his hips slamming into yours, and in a second after you nod, you are crying out his name, fingers still attached to the bundle of nerves, and his cock driving into you with determination.

Your legs shake on his forearms, velvety walls clenching so hard around him, gushing around his girth as he fucks you through your climax, closing his eyes.

He lets go of your legs, bends down to cage you under his body, burying his face into your neck as he fucks you a bit harder, thrusting deeper and rougher until you feel him trembling on top of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your heels and pressing them to his ass, arms looping around his broad shoulders to keep him close.

“Come for me, Robby.” You catch his earlobe in your mouth, nipping at it softly, “Fill me up, please… I’m on birth control—“

“Fuck, fuck!”

He drops his entire weight on you, hips pressing into yours tightly as he empties his balls deep into your core, thick ropes of his warm cum coating your insides, stuffing you full immediately.

He is not finished, though; he is still coming. He is shaking, his hips thrusting shallowly inside you, while his cock twitches and shoots another load inside you. You can feel him dripping out of your cunt already.

“Another round?”

“Jesus Christ, doll,” he laughs breathlessly against your neck, “Let me take a breath and I’ll fuck you till sunrise.”

  •••••••

It’s hot. It’s really, really hot. Steaming hot, sweating in your ass crack hot. That’s what wakes you up from the calmest sleep you have ever had, and that is exactly what you should be concerned about, given the state you wake up in.

The first thing you notice is how naked you are; nude as the day you were born, with barely any blanket covering you. And what’s worse… is a thick hairy arm draped over your bare waist, a bearded face squished against your neck.

There is a man in your bed, just as naked as you are, and he is lying halfway on top of you, crushing your body with his weight. He is running hot, and it’s making you sweat out your bones, but the proximity would be nice if you weren’t in Bali and mosquitoes weren’t so annoying.

Fucking Bali. You’ll kill Samira and Jack when you see them.

You feel the headache coming from a mile away, and when it does, it makes you groan. It’s bad, and it only gets worse when you realize how dehydrated you must be. Lots of shots, lots of beers, lots and lots of alcohol consumed with Robby…

Who?! Robby? Robby…

“What?” You whisper, your voice raspy from sleep, as you try to wiggle around in the guy’s firm grasp. You don’t have to go too far when you see the tattoo on his biceps. Memento Mori. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck—

Robby. The man who is basically pinning you to the bed, naked, with light snoring, is Robby. The day shift attending, your future attending, when you start rotation. Over twenty years older than you, Jack’s best friend. It’s Robby!

“Fuck- fuck, okay—“ you run a hand down your face, trying to push Robby’s arm over so you can get out of the way, but it only makes things worse, because now he is groaning and rubbing his eyes, moving to rest on his back.

“Good mornin’.”

“It’s not a good morning– move!” You try to push him off you, but in the process, you fall on your butt on the floor, legs twisting in the sheets, “What were you thinking?”

“What the fuck?” Robby sits up, blinking away the tiredness as he looks at you with wide eyes and a deep frown as you try to free yourself from the covers, “What do you mean?”

“I meant sleeping with a first-year resident!” You hiss at him, finally standing up with your hands on your hips, “This is bad, Robby.”

“And why is it bad? I don’t remember you being upset about how many times I fucked you last night,” he grabs the side of his neck with both hands, looking you up and down, his cock stirring at the sight.

“Fucking pervert–“ you grab the covers, yanking them off the bed and wrapping them around yourselves as you glare at Robby’s flushed yet smug smirk, “I was drunk.”

“You weren’t that drunk, doll,” he sighs, his mouth turning downward as you try to walk towards the bathroom, nearly falling face first on the floor again. “Where are you going? C’mon, let’s talk it out–“

“Look, it was fun, really fucking fun, okay? Probably the best fucking sex I’ve ever had— wipe that smile off your fucking face before I do it myself!”

“Calm down!” It’s Robby’s time to snap at you, shaking his head as he looks down at his bare body — his dick especially — waking up slowly. 

“Oh, wow, great. You’re getting hard from this?” He growls and grabs a pillow, putting it on his cock to cover it, “It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“Says you who’s covering herself like I didn’t tie you to bed last night,” he shakes his head, giving you a tired look, “Listen, doll, I don’t regret it—“

“But it was… a mistake…”

“Probably yeah,” he smiles at you, watching how you slowly let the covers go before walking back to the bed, “But I don’t regret it. HR wise, yeah, we should, and also, Jack and Samira will berate us for it for days.”

“But you don’t regret it?” You sit down next to him, looking down at your hands on your lap, before he puts his fingers under your jaw to force you to look him in the eye.

“Nope, not one second of it,” he shrugs, “I probably should, but that was the best sex I’ve ever had too. We can leave here and pretend nothing happened, or… we can work it out.”

“You’re willing to do that?” You smile a little, beaming when he turns red, “Like… you know, dating outside of work, me coming on day shift during rotation and stuff…”

“As long as you are okay with it, I have no problem,” he nudges your elbow with his, “But we gotta see if we can actually work without making shit weird in the Pitt…”

“Yeah, well I think–“ you are interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, making you both jump out of the bubble you had earlier, “Fuck, I promised Samira I’ll help her choose her outfit, fuck—“

“I gotta go then,” he says, standing up, giving you a very, very delicious view of his naked back as he bends down to collect his clothes, putting them on one by one while you run to answer the phone.

He gets dressed quickly, bending over the bed to peck your lips while you talk on the phone before he dashes out before anyone catches sight of him leaving your room.

Unfortunately for him, it seems Samira and Jack are already in the elevator when the doors open, looking at him with wide and curious eyes. Robby is only wearing his dress pants and the white shirt he had on last night, with his coat and tie hanging from his forearm.

“Nice look,” Samira says, squeezing Jack’s arm as they both try not to burst out laughing.

“Yeah, thanks,” Robby clears his throat, standing with his back to the couple, trying not to show how much he is blushing.

“Good wedding night, huh? Where’s the bride?” Jack asks, walking around Robby to see the purple marks on his neck and chest, courtesy of leaving the few buttons on the top undone.

“What the fuck do you mean? It was the fucking mosquitoes, who even have their wedding in Bali anymore?”

“Tell the mosquitoes we said hello,” Samira snickers as she grabs Jack’s hand again, walking out of the elevator as soon as the doors are opened, “Join us for breakfast, please.”

“Bring the mosquitoes if you can—“

“Fuck off.”

[kja06]

Gut wrenching, sobbing, heartbreaking fic. I LOVE IT

In sickness and in health

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinvitch x sick!wife!reader

summary: You've been having some weakness in your right hand and Robby encourages you to get it checked out. You end up at the neurologist, who gives you bad news.

Angst.

warnings: mentions of ALS and its prognosis, talk of DNR, reader will die in future (not written).

Masterlist

"Damn it!" You whisper as your knife drops to the floor. You bend to pick it up again, forcing your fingers to close around the utensil to grab it.

Robby puts his own cutlery down, his big brown eyes looking over you, trying to figure out what is wrong.

"You know," he begins softly, "That's the third time you dropped something with no reason these past couple of days. I'm starting to get a little worried."

You inspect your hand, trying to figure out why it's been feeling weird this week. "At least the seventh time, actually. I keep dropping my pen at work and I smashed my phone on the floor without warning this morning." You squeeze your finger together, relieved they seem to be working again. "You think something's wrong? Something bad?"

Robby keeps his eyes on your face trying to bring this delicately. He takes of his glasses and puts them on the table, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"I'm an emergency physician, my brain always heads straight for something bad, that's what I'm trained for. But that doesn't mean it actually is anything bad, we just have to rule it out. You've probably strained a muscle somehow, or you've been overworking yourself. You've been tired these past few weeks, it could just be from that as well. But check in with Dr. Smith, just to be sure. He'll draw some blood, maybe send you to a neurologist, and then it's probably nothing. You're healthy, you exercise. I'd guess it's probably just fatigue."

You nod at him, forgoing your knife to tear of a piece of toast with your fingers.

"Right. So diagnosis is probably just fatigue or something with a muscle, but possibly something a little worse to do with my brain?"

Robby smiles at you reassuringly. "Right. Just call doctor Smith today, go in to see him tomorrow and then we can stop worrying, all right?"

Two weeks later you and Michael are sat in the office of a neurologist. What was supposed to be just a few blood tests has turned into a whole array of other testing, and with each one you've grown more scared of what might be going on. The doctors and nurses keep saying they can't tell you anything until all the tests are done. You had the last of your test a couple of hours ago and you've been waiting on the neurology floor for the doctor to give you the results. Robby was paged up just a minute ago.

He is holding your hand when the doctor breaks the news. He feels your hand start to tremble as you listen, his big thumb stroking your hand to let you feel that you are there.

"So what's the next step in this?" You ask, trying to control your voice, "Surgery? Medication of some sorts?"

Both of the doctors in the room stay quiet.

You turn towards your husband. "Michael. Please tell me. I can take it I swear. I can guess at what your silence means, but I need you to tell me. I need to know."

He swallows and tears fill his eyes. "There's no... cure. Not for ALS. Not yet."

Your throat feels constricted. "What do you mean there's no cure? Explain it to me, because I'm not sure I fully understand. There must be something we can do right?"

The neurologist steps in.

"Unfortunately, at this time there is nothing we can do to stop the disease. We can treat your symptoms to slow the disease, make sure we help you to keep living your life the way you want to for as long as possible. But you have to understand, ALS is a fatal disease."

You feel panic rising in your body, constricting your breathing and setting your brain on fire.

"Are you seriously telling me I'm dying right now? I don't feel sick at all. I'm not even fifty. I just came for a check up 'cause I was having trouble holding my pen at work. I wasn't even going to come in. Robby convinced me and I wanted to soothe his worries. This is- this is...."

You swallowed, your throat terribly dry all of a sudden, "I'm supposed to have another thirty years at least. I'm supposed to grow old with Michael. We have so many things planned, so many dreams."

Michael releases a sob next to you, crumbling, hiding his face in his hands. You look 'round to him in shock. It's not like Michael to break down like this.

You try to control yourself, try to remain calm for Robby's sake.

You aren't sad, you tell yourself. You're angry.

It must be a mistake. Yes. That has to be it.

You don't notice the tears rolling down your own face.

"Are you sure about this? My primary care doctor sent me here just to be sure. He said I was probably just overworked, wanted to rule out anything that had to do with my brain. That's all. We just had to rule it out."

The neurologist continues. "That is what we hoped, but the results are very conclusive. We did several tests and we believe your disease has not progressed far, but you do have ALS."

Robby has stopped crying, he's looking at a drawing of a brain behind the neurologist's desk.

"How long do I have?" You demand. Robby shrinks in his chair.

"ALS progresses very differently for each individual." The doctor answers.

"Don't give me that crap." You snap at him, any grasp you thought you had on your emotions now failing you, "How long?"

"It could be months. but it could very well be years as well. as many as one in every ten patients makes it to ten years. With the right treatment we can keep you around as long as possible."

You swallow. "And on average?"

"The average is around three to five years."

You slump back into your chair, unable to speak. Your hand finds Robby's. He squeezes your fingers and looks over to you. His eyes are red and you can see the path of his tears on his cheeks. He tries to smile encouragingly, but you can only see the pain and worry in his eyes.

The doctor closes the file in front of him and looks you in the eye.

"I think you need some time, both of you, to process this and talk about it. It's very difficult news to come to terms with, I know. Talk about it together, let it sink in. I'd like to see you back here the day after tomorrow, we'll talk more about what's going to happen and what our treatment plan will be. There's some clinical trials we should discuss as well. You can always call me with questions, but I think doctor Robinavitch can answer most of them as well. We'll take it day by day from here, all right?"

You were sitting in Robby's car half an hour later, both without words. Robby had gone down to the Pitt, had whispered to Dana what was going on and left without speaking to anybody else. He left a senior resident in charge. All colour is gone from his face, his brown eyes popping even more against the pale skin, the skin around his eyes red from crying.

You were the first to speak. "Michael, I wanna say something, and I need you to respect that, okay?" He turns towards you.

"I did some googling while you were inside." Robby tries to interrupt. "Let me just finish, please. I probably shouldn't have looked it up, I know. Doctor Google is almost never right. But I did look it up."

You look at some faraway point, trying to focus enough to put your words together correctly.

"I read that, uhm, I read that I'll probably die because my muscles won't be able to support my breathing, or my heart anymore, and I'll go into respiratory arrest. Am I right so far?" You looked back at him and he nodded, his eyes focusing on yours.

"Okay. I want to sign a DNR then. Tomorrow."

Robby pulls at his hair with both hands. "Jesus, fuck! Darling. I'm still trying to process you being sick. I'm nowhere near discussing this."

You put a hand on his thigh and give a little squeeze. You reach for his hands to hold them so he will stop pulling his hair.

"Thats fine. You don't have to be ready to talk about it. But I am ready to talk about it and I need you to listen and except what I'm saying. I want you to know, I need you to know; I don't want any heroic measures. If I stop breathing, I stop breathing. Thats it. If I'm going to die anyway I don't want to do it at a hospital with a tube down my throat. I'll die on my terms. And I'll do everything to slow the disease, I promise you that. Absolutely everything I can. But when it's time you've got to let me go. I want to make sure of that tomorrow, so there won't be a time where you have to make a decision. Not like with Adamson. I can't put you through that. It's my decision to make, and I've made it."

Robby can't talk anymore. He feels like his tears should be close to drying out but they keep coming.

You climb over the console, into his lap. You stay there in his arms, your tears disappearing into his black scrub top, his big hands rubbing circles on your back.

"I promise." He murmurs to you after some time, his lips touching your hair. "We'll do it all on your terms; living, dying, you tell me how and we'll make it happen. I promise."

A week later Abbot finds Robby on the roof. He'd taken a week of work, but at your pushing he was back to work that day. You want to continue you own work as well, want to feel like a normal human being while you still can. So you kicked him out of the house and back to the Pitt that morning.

"Hey man," Abbot opens, "You wanna come on this side of the fence? So we can talk?"

Robby turns around but doesn't leave his spot.

"Dana told me. I am so sorry." Jack keeps his focus on Robby, ready to sprint if he moves any closer to the edge. His face is calm, his eyes filled with pity.

Robby nods his thanks. His arms hang still at his side.

"How do you do it, Jack?" He asks, "Wait for your wife to die?"

Abbot keeps his eyes locked on his friend. He thinks for a minute before answering. "You don't wait, brother. You live life, keep on living, till you can't anymore. You lean on your friends, your family. You go to therapy so you can deal with what you feel, you love her, spend every second you can with her. You try to engrain every part of her into your brain so you don't forget. It's damn hard, and you'll cry and curse out the universe for doing this, but the two of you can handle it. Together you can live life a little longer. You don't wait for her to die, brother, you live, together, while you still can."

Robby moved to the other side of the fence, hugging Jack before going down the stairs together.

[kja06]

Those boys definitely go through a “Jack” phase. Like all they call him is Jack. Not dad, or daddy or even dada. Just straight Jack. And it pisses him off to no end because they’re so nice and sweet to their mama. Eventually it phases out and they go back to dad. But for that time, Jack loses his mind.

Things Jack Abbot has said to his Tasmanian Devils twins:

“If you wake up your sister from her nap, I’m going to shove this metal foot so far up your ass that Uncle Robby is going to have to take it out.”

“One of you is adopted. Don’t remember which one.��

“We found y’all in a dumpster.”

“You didn’t eat your broccoli? That’s how my leg fell off.”

“You didn’t hold your mom’s hand when crossing the street? That’s how my leg fell off.”

“You didn’t pick up your toys? That’s how my leg fell off.”

“Don’t listen to your Uncle Robby. He’s an Eagles fan.”

“Stop wrestling in public, you’re giving gingers a bad rap.”

“I love you both equally, but not at the same time.”

“If I step on one more Lego, I’m returning you both to the dumpster.”

[kja06]

His boys def take his prosthetic and run away with it while he hobbles after them

At the Robinavitch household, Robby’s children take “playing doctor” very seriously. All of the stuffed animals and American girl dolls are placed in a waiting room (the kitchen), and they are seen one by one in the order they arrived. Robby sits next to his youngest daughter’s stuffed bunny, anticipating his visit. Finally, after his kids have thoroughly diagnosed the patients in front of him, Robby is finally able to see a doctor. His oldest daughter estimates his weight at 100 pounds and his age as 80. His son checks his ears and heart with a toy otoscope and stethoscope, claiming that everything looks good “for now.” His middle daughter walks in to ask why he’s here, to which Robby replies “My head hurts.” The three children run dozens of tests, including brushing his hair and checking for lice. They decide he’s been hitting his head on the doors too much because he’s too tall. Robby accepts the diagnosis and heads to the pharmacy to get his prescription, where his youngest daughter, only recently able to stand by herself, is guarding a box of yogurt melts that was supposed to be his medicine. He has to fight her for them, but he eventually wins, letting her have a few when she starts to fuss.

At the Abbot household, it’s chaos. There’s been a multi vehicular collision on the interstate. Transformer toys and monster truck replicas are scattered everywhere. Jack lays on the ground, his prosthetic leg detached from his shin. His twin boys hurry to the scene, quickly inspecting their father. “He’s not gonna make it. His leg is gone.” One of the boys claims. Jack cracks an eye open and retorts, “Hey, I survived the first time I lost a leg.” The other twin shakes his head. “Sorry, we’ve gotta take care of people who are going to live.” Jack huffs and starts complaining while the twins rush to their baby sister’s side, deciding she is worth saving, and they stick Princess bandaids all along her arms.

[kja06]

So many Robby x reader x Jack fics. But no Jack x Robby in the fics. Let those old men kiss. I NEED Jack and Robby making out like I need water.

[kja06]

I wanna get him pregnant.

SHAWN HATOSY as ANDREW 'POPE' CODY Animal Kingdom (2016-2022)

[kja06]

Is he fighting for his life? Yes. Is that happy trail doing something to me. Also yes.

noah wyle in shot (2017)

[kja06]

Let Me Go

Widower Joel Miller / F Reader

Letting go of your pain might be the hardest thing to do, even if you end up hurting another.

DESCRIPTIONS:

Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Angst and Feels, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning

DID I MENTION ANGST?

Word Count - 5893

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, I GUESS?

Top Tip - Do not listen to your heart if it tells you to start typing when you're about to get your period. It may result in the following.

---

It hurt. No one told her how much it would hurt. To see the man she loved move on. Met someone else. Brought you back to the house she used to share with him. She hated that you got to live in the house she helped her husband scrimped and saved for. She hated that you got to sleep in the bedroom that she decorated. She hated that you managed to get that stain off his shirt that she couldn’t manage, no matter how hard she tried. She hated that you kept the house in better shape than she ever did. She hated that the far end corner of the garden had never looked better. She hated that the tree in the backyard was gone. She hated that you got to cook in her dream kitchen. She hated that he ate your cooking. She hated that you knew what his favourite dish was. She hated that you cook it well. She hated that he took a second, even a third helping of it every time. She hated that you got to make his favourite cup of coffee every morning, his plate of bacon, eggs over easy and toast next to it.

She hated that you took care of him so well.

She hated that everyone in his life supported his union with you. Hated that they introduced him to you. Hated that he agreed to meet you in the first place. She hated that they just accepted you. His family, her family, her friends, everyone loved you. She hated that he went to all the gatherings they used to go to together with you. That it’s you who’s laughing with everyone now instead of her. That it’s you who’s getting him a plate to eat. That it’s you sitting next to him, and not her.

She especially hated that her parents and her in laws let you take care of Sarah. Her heart broke to see her baby bond with you. She hated that his parents let him take Sarah home to live with you. She hated that her own parents supported this decision. She hated it. She hated that Sarah had a special smile reserved just for you. She hated that you had a special kiss reserved only for Sarah, one that made her giggle for hours on end. She hated that Sarah looked so happy to be with you. She hated that you and Sarah had a special language you used, one that only the two of you could understand. She hated that you could soothe Sarah when she’s upset. Hated that Sarah fell asleep so easily in your arms.

She hated that he took you to the farmer’s market, Sarah in the baby carrier on his chest, carrying the basket with you walking next to him instead of her. She hated that the whole town now knew the two of you as Joel and Annie. She hated how easy it was for everyone to just accept you. She hated how everyone never mentioned her anymore. As if the two of them never happened. As if the two of them never mattered.

She hated that she knew all this. That she could see all this. Hear all this. The people who wouldn’t leave her alone kept telling her to move on. How could she? When you just swooped in and took her place as if she didn’t matter? As if she never existed?

She didn’t mean to leave him. She didn’t want to leave him. She wanted to stay with him and Sarah. But she was broken. It was the only way. She didn’t have a choice. She had to. So she did. It broke her heart to do it.

He was devastated. His life turned upside down. His world crumbled. He couldn’t even take care of Sarah, not without thinking of her. His parents took Sarah in, just so he had some time to adjust. But he couldn’t, and Sarah was without a father and a mother. So they introduced him to you. And to her surprise, he married you within a month of meeting. She was devastated at how easy it was for him to move on. She had to watch as he moved you into her dream house. Watch as you play family with her family.

She couldn’t watch anymore. It hurt too much. So a few weeks after you moved in, she stayed away. Refused to see or hear anything about you anymore.

He brought Sarah to see her without your knowledge. They would spend hours with her before going home. He told her he missed her. That he wished it was her with him and Sarah, and not you. That he married you out of necessity, not out of want. That he hoped she can forgive him. That she was the only one in his heart. That she was always on his mind. That he loved her, that he will always love her. That he will come see her again the next day, giving her a kiss.

It made her happy. She was never leaving him, and him, her.

**********

You greeted Joel and Sarah as they came home from the park, the happy girl babbling endlessly as she ‘told’ you about her adventures with her Daddy. Joel let you entertain Sarah for a while, cleaning her up as you did, going to the bathroom to clean up himself, and the three of you sat down for dinner. You fed Sarah first, Joel taking her once he’s done and waited for you to finish eating, the table, as usual, silent, save for Sarah’s babbles and the two of you entertaining her.

After dinner, you put Sarah down and spent the rest of the night prepping Sarah’s meals for the next day, cleaning the kitchen up and going to bed to read. Joel came in to kiss Sarah one more time as she slept and went next door to the master bedroom to sleep.

The next morning, you prepared his breakfast as usual, got Sarah ready and packed his lunch as he ate. He asked you if there was anything you needed from the store. You gave him a list of bread, milk, eggs and formula, and stood in front of the door as he kissed Sarah goodbye and left for work.

After he left, you went about your day, doing your chores as the lady of the house.

You spent the morning in your small garden in the backyard. You brought Sarah with you, her happy babbles from the carrier on your chest keeping you entertained as you took care of your flowers and herbs and vegetables. You brought out little bowls you filled with seeds and water for the birds and small critters and placed them on the new tree stump on the other side of the backyard, the bit that you did not plant in. This little patch on the left, this was yours. This was your own little space.

Once the sun started to come out more, you went inside to do the rest of your chores.

You did the laundry, using exactly the same laundry detergent she had used. You dusted and wiped the house, moving the decors and furniture she had chosen before putting them back exactly where it was, the way she had liked. You wiped all the picture frames of her and your husband on their wedding day, hung them back up or rearranged them on the shelf, making sure they were just so. You cleaned his bathroom, wiping and cleaning everything in the cabinet, placing all her lotions and perfume back in place before going on to clean the guest bathroom that you and Sarah used. You made his bed, changing the sheets before folding and placing the blanket she had used carefully on her side of the bed.

You folded the laundry and carefully stored them. The sheets and towels in the linen cabinet in the laundry room, his clothes placed alongside hers in their wardrobe, Sarah’s in hers, and yours in the small suitcase you had come to the house with, which was then pushed under the small single bed he had bought for you to sleep on in the nursery.

You stopped for lunch, something simple for you, something you prepped the night before for Sarah. You spent Sarah’s nap time reading one of the books you borrowed from the library, getting the things you needed for dinner out while you waited for Joel to come home. He usually took her to the park immediately when he got home, and you used that time to get a new book from the library a few streets over.

You enjoyed this time. This, and the gardening in the mornings. You loved that this was your time. For you, and only you. You enjoyed perusing the shelves for a new book to read. Enjoyed talking to Ike, the elderly librarian and his wife Tracy. Enjoyed the walk to the library, enjoyed the walk back, all excited to go on a new adventure when you read the book later.

You prepared dinner when you got home, climbing a small stool you brought in from the garden to get the plates and bowls, just as you did when putting them back after they dried. She was taller than you, and she placed them there. You served dinner when he and Sarah got back, and the routine repeated every day on the week days.

On Saturdays, Joel brought you and Sarah over to his and her parents’. They lived next door to each other. They were always happy to see you, and of course, elated to see Sarah. The three of you would spend the entire day there, him going fishing with his Dad and father in law, you with his Mom and mother in law and Sarah. You had breakfast, lunch and dinner together before going home, where his mothers taught you recipes that he liked. He brought you and Sarah to the farmer’s market on Sundays, getting whatever provisions you might need for the week, sometimes stopping at the ice cream place for a treat. He also brought you to gatherings, if there were any, his friends always more than happy to welcome you among them.

You loved the weekends. You loved that you had people to talk to. You loved that he talked to you on those days. You loved that you felt like a real wife, a real couple on those days. You savoured every minute of those days. Before you got back home and entered the house you lived in, the one you took care of, the one that had no sign of you anywhere, save for the small patch of garden in the far corner of the backyard.

The house where the only person who talked to you on a regular basis couldn’t form words yet. The house that you shared with a man who only talked to you when asking what you needed from the store. The man who only looked at you when there were others around, others who loved you, talked to you as if you mattered. The man who, in the beginning, only talked to you to correct you when you misplaced his wife’s décor and lotions, when you moved the plates and bowls to a lower shelf so you could get to them better, when he saw you take her blanket to wash, snatching it off your hands. The man who you heard cry himself to sleep for weeks after you moved in. The man who you could still sometimes hear cry himself to sleep every now and again.

The man you didn’t dare cross because your survival depended on him. The man who chopped down the tree in the garden when he came home one day to find that you had hung a makeshift swing on the branch, wanting to make it a place you could read at.

You pretended not to see him when you pass the cemetery on your way to and from the library, pretended to believe him when he told you early on he was taking Sarah to the park. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t do anything.

You knew your place.

You were thankful. You had escaped from your abusive father and made your way to the small town he lived in. You cleaned houses to make ends meet, renting a small room down the street from his parents and in law’s house. You helped them take care of Sarah when she came to live with them. They knew your history, they knew you could use a good life to leave your past behind. They liked you. Loved you. You knew they talked about this union amongst themselves before even talking to you. They wanted Sarah to be taken care of. You knew they had to coax him to even consider meeting you. She had been in his life since infancy. It wasn’t easy for him.

You knew he only married you because his parents and in laws asked him to. You also knew that he only agreed in the end because he couldn’t bear to be separated from Sarah, but going back and forth to his work place was not an option. You knew he only did it because he wanted Sarah to grow up with a mother and a father. You knew he only did it to make sure someone was home to take care of her house. So that someone was there to take care of her child. So that someone was there to take care of him.

You knew.

But you didn’t think it would be this lonely.

Almost a year passed. You lived your life as the lady of the house as you always had, going through the motions, thankful that you had a roof over your head, thankful for this happy little girl you had the privilege of taking care of every day, thankful for the groups of people who accepted you into their circle. The fact that the man you lived with did not was just a side story you did not want to think about.

He had warmed up to you, though, starting some simple conversations with you here and there. But otherwise, your life was pretty much the same as it was when you first moved in.

You were feeding Sarah one morning as he had his breakfast as usual. You got up to put her empty bowl in the sink, when you heard her say her first word.

“Mama.”

Your heart stopped beating. She called you Mama, her happy face smiling at you, her chubby arms splayed out, asking you to pick her up. You did, giving her so many kisses she squealed with laughter. You looked at Joel, happiness clearly written on your face.

But the face that was staring back at you was not a happy one. He screamed at you, accusing you of teaching Sarah the offensive word, that you were trying to push her out of his and Sarah’s lives. That it was not your place to do that. That there can only ever be one woman for him and it was the world’s greatest show of unfairness and tragedy that you were there to celebrate this happy day with him and not her. That you would get to see this perfect child that he made with her grow up, and not her. That you get to reap the benefits of her ultimate sacrifice to bring this beautiful little girl into the world while she rots in the ground.

He screamed at you until his face was red, until his voice cracked. He only stopped when Sarah started crying, snatching her away from you, taking her into his truck and driving away.

You stood in the kitchen, unable to move for a while. You then cleaned the kitchen up, before going into the backyard. You got on your knees and pulled out the flowers and herbs and veggies you planted, piled them into the firepit and burnt them all, raking the patch of soil you had previously used flat, trying hard to get it to look the way it did when you had first found it. You then went inside, got yourself ready for the day, took your suitcase out from under your bed, placed your simple wedding ring on your pillow and closed the door behind you, walking out of her house with the only, previously unseen traces of you.

**********

She knew immediately something was wrong. He came early today. And he was crying. Crying hard. He didn’t say anything. Just sat there for hours and cried himself hoarse. Sarah was crying too. But she could see that she wasn’t crying for her. That he wasn’t crying for her either, at least, not just for her. She could see how conflicted he was. He was inconsolable, one hand clutching an upset Sarah, the other on her headstone, sobbing his heart out.

He finally calmed down, Sarah asleep in his arms, having cried herself to exhaustion. He still hadn’t said a word, sitting cross-legged on the ground, a tired, blank look on his face.

“Sarah said her first word today.”

Her heart soared. Her baby girl spoke! She said her first word!

But… this was good news. Why was he so upset?

“It was Mama.”

Oh, she could fly right now.

“Annie. She was Mama, not you.”

Oh.

“She was so happy to hear Sarah say her first word. I screamed at her. I told her she would never be her Mama. I told her I wish you were here, and she was not.”

He began crying again, his shoulders shaking from his regret.

Yes, he regretted saying that. She could see.

A part of her wanted to be angry. Why was he so regretful of hurting your feelings? He promised her he would love her until death did them part.

“Death did part you, my dear,” the old lady, one of the people who wouldn’t leave her alone said. “You’re not here anymore, you shouldn’t be here anymore, you need to let him move on.”

No! Why should she? It’s not fair. How was it fair that she had to leave and you got to stay? She died giving Sarah life, why should you get to enjoy her? Why should you enjoy the results of her hard work? Sarah? Joel? The house? How was that fair?

“Go to the house, dear. You’ll see,” they all told her.

She followed him home when he finally picked himself up from the ground, walking like a zombie to his truck to go home. He walked into the house, struck by it’s silence.

She could see him panic. He placed Sarah in her crib, running around the house calling your name, getting more and more flustered the longer he did so, you nowhere to be seen. He went into the backyard, seeing the burnt remnants of some vegetations, going to the far end corner of the backyard, immediately getting on his knees, his hands on the obviously recently flattened soil, breaking down one more time, this time, she knew for sure that his heartbreak was not for her.

He went back into the house when Sarah cried, washing his hands, going to the fridge. He got a container out, emptying its contents into a pot, reheating it before getting Sarah from her crib. He soothed her, the little girl searching around for someone. He cried into her hair, telling her he was sorry, placing her in her chair before getting her food from the stove, feeding her with a forlorn look on his face.

He left Sarah with the neighbour, driving around town looking for you. She watched as he got more and more frustrated, the words ‘please, I’m sorry’ falling in whispers from his lips as his eyes roved around the public spaces. She watched as he called everyone he knew, asking them if you had dropped by, giving some excuse that you had planned to visit, and wondered if you had gone over that day, clearly disappointed when they told him they hadn’t seen you. She watched as he moped around the rest of the day, only coming to life whenever Sarah needed him.

He fell asleep in the nursery that night, crying himself to sleep on the single bed that wasn’t there when she lived here. He found the ring you left on your pillow, breaking down, placing the ring on his pinkie and clutched it to his heart, his face buried in your pillow. She was seething. How could he be that upset over you? The woman who stole the life she wanted with him. The life that was so unfairly snatched away from her. She would give anything to be here with him, with Sarah. To still be here. And here he was, moping around for you.

She left the nursery, looking around the house she had only lived in for two months before she had to leave.

And that’s when she noticed it.

With the exception of the bed Joel was now sleeping on, and the lack of tree in the backyard, the house was exactly the way she left it. She walked around, feeling as if she had never left. Everything was still there. Her clothes, her pictures, her products, her trinkets, everything still where they were.

“It’s as if she was never here,” the old lady said.

No, that’s not true, she thought at first. But… the old lady was right. There was no trace of you in the house, only her. You didn’t even sleep with him, you slept in the nursery. While there was a part of her that felt a sense of relief that he wasn’t sleeping with you, there was an unease in her heart at what things must have been like for you.

She thought of the things he told her he had said to you, what you must have felt to live in the shadows of her memory, doing everything a good mother and wife would do for Sarah and for him, only for him to say those things to you.

She wondered if she would have been okay with such treatment, if the situation was reversed. Would she had been okay living in a shrine for her husband’s late wife?

To her own surprise, she felt sad for you. She looked at the house you had been taking care of for the past year, only a few months after she passed. You had taken excellent care of it, better than she did, in fact. She looked at her baby girl, the little lady flourishing under your care, healthy and happy. So happy, so loved, she called you Mama. Because you were her Mama. You raised her, loved her, took care of her, kept her safe. She may have given birth to Sarah, but to her, you were her Mama, and she called you so, because that’s what she knew. And Joel, the man you married, the one who was supposed to love and care for you, chastised you for it, breaking your heart.

Because he hadn’t moved on from her.

“Because you wouldn’t let him, my dear,” the lady said. “It’s time for you to let him go. You need to let him move on, for his own good, for Sarah’s own good.”

She knew the old lady was right. And for the first time ever, she didn’t fight her words.

She laid next to him on that single bed, softly calling his name. He opened his eyes, smiling at her. He kissed her, tears in his eyes.

“Am I dreaming?”

She nodded.

“I miss you,” she told him.

“I miss you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not letting you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I need to. You need to move on. Go find Annie. Beg for her forgiveness.”

His tears fell. “I’m sorry. I fell for her. I didn’t mean to. I tried not to, I really did. It scared me. I’m so scared I will forget you. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want Sarah to forget you. When Sarah called her Mama…”

“Annie is her Mama,” she told him, her own tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m not here anymore, and I’m glad Annie is. She will take good care of Sarah, you know that. You can make sure Sarah remembers me, Annie will help, I know she will. She’s a good person, she won’t let you or Sarah forget me.”

He could only nod. She was right. You wouldn’t. You never did.

She missed this. Talking to him in bed.

“What happened to the tree in the backyard?”

“I cut it down.”

“Why?”

“You asked me to hang a swing there before, do you remember?”

She nodded, still confused.

“I came home about a week after I married her, and she had hung one. Wanted to use it as a reading spot. It was my one regret about you. That I didn’t hang that swing. And to see it when you didn’t have one just…”

“Joel…”

“I know.”

“This bed is creaky. Did you build this?”

“No, I bought it.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

“I’ve only ever built things for you, I felt like I would be betraying you if I…”

“Honey…”

“I know… I know…”

“Don’t treat your wife like that, you didn’t treat me like that, why would you do that to her?” her tears fell, accepting that you were his wife now, not her. “Promise me you’ll treat her well?”

He nodded, taking her face in his hands, kissing her one more time. He wanted the moment to last forever, but his eyes wouldn’t stop closing, his head felt heavier and heavier.

“I love you Joel, I always will. I need to let you go for you to be happy. Let me go too, honey. Be free. Love again.”

Joel woke up the next day feeling as if the world was lifted off his shoulder. He got Sarah ready for the day and asked the neighbour to take her one more time while he ran some errands.

He came back an hour later with boxes, rolling his sleeves, opening the wardrobe he shared with her, taking her favourite dress out, hugging it for a while, before placing it in the first box.

**********

Two weeks later, you were choosing some apples at the grocery store for Ike and Tracy, they had nicely allowed you to stay at the in-law suite at their house while you figured out your next step. You’ve been helping him out at the library in the meantime, running his errands for him. You were just thinking of what to get him for his lunch when you heard someone call your name.

“Hi Annie! So good to see you back on your feet!”

It was Maddie, one of Joel’s closest friends.

“What do you mean?” you asked, wondering if Joel had told them what happened.

“Well, you missed Sunday brunch, Joel said you were down with the flu?”

Oh.

“Right, yes, I’m feeling much better.”

“Well, glad to see you up and about again. That man was miserable when you were down. Everyone was teasing him on Sunday, missing his wife like that when you were home sick!” she laughed, giving you a quick hug before leaving.

“Right,” you said to yourself. “He missed his wife.”

Too bad you were not the wife in question.

You walked back to the library, looking at the job application you had collected from the grocery store, the fruits and sandwiches you got in a bag on your shoulder, some light groceries in your hand. Maybe you could do this for a while and move on in a few months? Save some money to have a downpayment? The small savings you had while working back then wouldn’t last you that long, and you needed to make sure you would be okay for a while when you figure out what you were going to do.

You couldn’t stay here, not without running into people you knew.

Not without running into Joel.

You had been lying low, angry at yourself that you couldn’t even run far. The circumstances of your situation wouldn’t allow you too. You only went out in public when you knew he would be at work, just so you wouldn’t risk seeing him. Just so he wouldn’t yell at you again.

The thing was you understood why he was so angry. His wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child, died, and he wasn’t prepared to lose her. He would never see her again. You understood that - it was why you didn’t push. You understood that he needed time. He married you within a few months of her untimely death out of necessity. But that day, you realized just how much he wasn’t ready to have you in his life, despite the fact that you had been married for almost a year.

Much as you hate to admit it, much as you hated yourself for it, despite the way he treated you, you loved him. And by God you loved Sarah. But you had no place in their life, he wouldn’t let you have one in his life. So you needed to leave and find your own way.

And getting this job would be a good first step.

Just as you were approaching the library, someone took the groceries out of your hand.

“Joel.”

“Hi.”

You took a step back from him, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Please don’t… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. At the time, I didn’t know why I did that…”

“I do,” you said.

He nodded, regret filling his features. He stayed where he was, unable to stand the way his heart lurched when you took a step back from him. He knew your history, and he yelled at you. He made you feel unsafe. He couldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again.

“Annie, I know why you left, I’m so sorry I treated you like that. I wasn’t ready, but I am now. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry, Annie. Please.”

“Everything okay here?” Ike asked, coming out of the library.

“Uh, yeah, here, your lunch,” you said, handing him the bag. He took it, eyeing Joel. “It’s okay, I’ll be in in a minute,” you told him. He had been asking what happened between you and Joel, but you never said anything. You didn’t know why. Maybe you were ashamed, maybe you were stupid.

Ike went back inside but stayed visible, still eyeing Joel.

“How are you doing? Do you need anything?” he asked.

“I’m fine. How’s Sarah? Who’s looking after her?”

“Mrs Adler. Sarah’s not doing too well,” your body language shifted, “She’s healthy,” he quickly added, “She misses her Mama. And I miss my wife.”

You hesitantly smiled, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But I can’t bring your wife back from the dead, Joel. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bag from his hand and turning to go into the library.

“It’s you,” he quickly said, his eyes filling with tears. You turned. “You are her Mama, you are my wife. You, not Laura. Please, can we talk?”

You didn’t know why, but you sat down on one of the benches in front of the library and waited for him to sit too.

“I never expected you to forget her, Joel. I know my place. I know you didn’t want to marry me. I showed Sarah her pictures every single day, telling her that’s her Mommy. I never wanted to take her place, and you didn’t hide the fact that you didn’t want me there either. I never expected you to. But I can’t stay knowing that you never will.”

“I do want you there. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready, it just felt like I was betraying her, like I’m cheating on her. And I worry every day that Sarah would grow up not knowing her. I didn’t want to feel like I’m replacing her. So when Sarah called you Mama…”

You nodded. It’s not like you didn’t know all this before.

“I donated all her stuff. Save for a few things, for Sarah to have one day, her pictures, her jewellery, a dress or two, but I gave everything else away. Please come back, come back home, Annie, I’ll build you a garden, a swing, a reading nook, that bird bath and feeder you always wanted, anything you want, just please come back. I miss you. I love you. I need you. Please.”

You were quiet. Too quiet. Joel could feel his heart break.

“I need some time to think it over,” you quietly said, eyes on your feet.

Joel could only nod defeatedly.

**********

A year later, you were carefully pushing a toothy, laughing Sarah on a swing set in the park, the little girl shockingly still full of energy after a whole day at the petting zoo. The sound of Joel’s truck made the little girl squeal with joy, scrambling to get out of the swing to get to him. You carefully released her from the swing and placed her on the ground, her little legs running wobblily towards her Daddy. He picked her up, and kissed her, smiling at you as you walked over with her bag in your hand.

“Hi,” he said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “Did you have fun with Mama?” he asked her, the little girl quickly launching into a babble of tales about a horse she rode that day.

“It’s a pony, and there were seatbelts,” you told him, passing him her bag.

“Ah,” he laughed, taking it from you. “Can I drop you off?” he asked, hopeful that he didn’t have to say goodbye to you yet.

“Nah, I’ll walk,” you said, giving Sarah a kiss. “I’ll see you in two days okay?” you and Joel both laughed as she raised three fingers, nodding. You followed them to his truck and waited as he strapped her into the car seat.

“Listen,” he said as he shut the door. “My parents are taking Sarah next weekend, I was wondering if you’ll go out with me? Friday? Maybe we can go to dinner?”

“Next Friday is Valentine's Day. Is this dinner a date?”

His ears turned pink, “Uh, it doesn’t have to be a date, if you’re not comfortable with that, we don’t have to call it that…”

“Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re still married, you can ask me out for a date.”

“I can?” he asked, looking relieved and elated at the same time.

You nodded.

“Okay, uh, yeah. Annie, will you go out on a date with me?”

You smiled, got on your tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“I thought you would never ask,” you said, turning away, your heart feeling like it was made of cotton candy.

Joel refrained himself from jumping with joy. He got in his truck, telling Sarah it was time to go home, Daddy needs to finish painting that reading nook he’d been building.

“For your Mama, when she comes home.”

@joelalorian @harriedandharassed @kirsteng42 @vickie5446

Tagging just because - let me know if you want out.

[kja06]

Jack abbot with a teeny bright red headed baby is my vice, I can’t help it.

[kja06]

She's Here

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader

21.2k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: I know there’s not a supply closet on the floor plan but we’re pretending; took what I needed for the set up of PittFest from the show, storyline diverges once PittFest patients start arriving; angst; active suicide risk Robby; Robby has not been to therapy; miscommunications; Robby cries; Reader cries; suicidal ideation/suicide planning; allusions to PIV sex and oral (m. rec) sex; dry humping kind of; alcohol; joking use of daddy; mentions of blood; mentions of guns and shootings; breaking up; making up after argument; Robby puts his foot in his mouth; reader has some insecurities; grief; mentions of death/dying/coding; seizures; CPR; anxiety about partner's safety; mentions of compartmentalization; age gap kind of implied with Robby but not explicitly referenced (he's an attending when Reader starts as an intern); no use of y/n or related

Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed and doesn't react well.

AN: Based on this ask sent in by @loveyhoneydovey. First Robby fic!!!!! I don't know how I feel about it!! I'm very nervous about his voice and characterization here and if it feels like him. I'm always very nervous though. We get some development of your relationship through vignettes of the past like I've done before. Dividers made by the amazing @saradika-graphics. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments and as always thank you so much for reading!!

“We’re doing it.” Robby’s voice is just above a whisper as he walks in with Jack.

“That could mean one of several thousand things, Robby.” Jack glances at him. He keeps his voice hushed like Robby’s. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than ‘we’re doing it.’” 

“Her and I,” Robby clarifies. “We’re together. It happened today. I’m taking her out tomorrow night.” 

“About fucking time,” Jack mutters lowly. He claps Robby on the shoulder as they keep walking. “I’m really happy for you brother. For you both.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Jack looks at Robby and raises his eyebrows while squinting a little, asking what Robby wanted instead. “I don’t know,” Robby shrugs, “I thought you’d have some more enthusiasm.” 

“I do,” Jack nods, “but given your near whispering, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to express it right here in, you know, the middle of the entire fucking ED,” Jack’s dropped his voice even lower the further they’ve walked in, “because it seemed like maybe not everyone knew yet and I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me to be the one to tell them or make them starting asking even more questions.” He gives Robby a look for a second before softening it into a small smile and nodding at Robby.

You grin to yourself when you see Jack. You and Robby agreed that Dana and Jack had to know right away but that you wouldn’t tell Dana until Jack was here. You could tell that Dana knew something was up, though. 

You walk by Robby and Jack on your way to Dana, smirk at them. “Boys.” You nod. 

Robby lets out a long breath and shakes his head a little. He has no idea what to do with you sometimes, in the best way. Jack just smirks back at you a little, but softens it out just a bit at the end and nods to silently tell you he’s very happy for you. 

You smile as you walk up to Dana, standing next to her as she looks up at the board. “We’re together,” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”

“About fucking time,” Dana whispers back. She gives you a sly smile and bumps your hip with hers. “I’m very happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you,” you nod, making eye contact with Robby across the floor, “I am too.” 

You stand up when you hear someone else enter the supply closet. You think it might be Dana coming to lovingly corner you and get info on how your date was. But it’s not her. It’s Robby. “Hey,” you call out to him. 

“Hi.” His response is a little short and confuses you but you just let it go. He walks over so that he’s standing next to you. A respectable distance apart. Robby starts looking through the shelves but as you watch him it’s clear he’s not really actually looking for anything. “Heard you had a date last night.” His voice is strained, he sounds like he’s trying to hide some simmering anger. But you recognize it for what it really is. Jealousy.

You stop pulling the tubing you need from the shelf but don’t turn to look at him. How did he even know about that and why does he fucking care are the only two things you can really think about. He has no right to be mad. You and Robby have been dancing around each other for years now. At his behest. And at a certain point it felt like his reasoning for that changed. 

After a couple of seconds you sigh. “I did yeah.” 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, mouth in a line. You have to roll your eyes at him as you pull out the tubing. “You sleep with him?” 

You scoff and finally look over at him, but he’s still looking at the shelves. “I’m sorry, please tell me how the fuck that is even close to your business.” 

Robby just pulls his lips down. Not sad per se but thinking. “So you did.”

You just want this conversation to be over at this point. Because it hurts. Because Robby has been and it seems always will be right there but unwilling or unable or not wanting to try being with you. “Yeah. Sorry I needed to get laid and actually went out and got it. You should fucking try it, Michael.” It’s not even a conscious decision, deciding to push him away first in this conversation, to try and act unaffected by the thought of him being with someone else. 

He ignores your jabs, but the confirmation that you were with someone else makes his blood boil, jealousy ripping through him and clouding his thoughts. “You let him touch you. Touch what’s mine.” 

“Ha!” you laugh. Then there’s ten or so seconds of silence as you gape at him while his words fully process because you’re so struck by his fucking audacity. “What’s yours? What’s fucking yours? Are you out of your fucking mind Michael? Please, since fucking when have I been yours?” He still doesn’t look at you. “Hey! Look at me, asshole!” You throw the tubing in your hand at him. 

That gets him to turn and look at you with a scowl on his stupid handsome face. He knows that you’re not at all his. He can’t bring himself to admit it though. “Thought we were going to do this. Do us. When you’re an attending. Guess not.”

You have to laugh at his words again, exasperatedly this time. “No Michael. You don’t get to do this. I’ve wanted to do this. Do us. You are the one who hasn’t. And for a while I understood why, and even when I didn’t, I have always respected your feelings. It was you’re under me and ‘I don’t want to mess up your career or give you a reputation and have that impact us’ and ‘when you’re an attending’ that slowly seemed to turn into ‘I’m not sure if I want you anymore’ and ‘maybe when you’re an attending’ and I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to decide if you really didn’t want to do this, didn’t want me anymore, or if you were just trying to protect yourself or something. Because it went from when you’re an attending to maybe when. So why would I be waiting around anymore, Michael? I waited for years. And if it was just about me being under you and my career and people knowing I earned everything I got then why didn’t you come ask me out and say you were ready to do this the second I got offered and accepted an attending position?”

You swallow hard and have to look away from Robby. You’re so confused by him but still down so bad. Deep down you know him calling you his hit you so hard because you are. You have been. Even if he didn’t know and didn’t want you. You’d given yourself to him. But you won’t cry for him. Not here. Not at work. Not where everyone would know regardless of your explanation. 

And Robby hates it. How sad you look. How you could ever possibly think he didn’t want to be with you. That he didn’t want you. He never realized at some point he’d said maybe. It was never maybe for him. But your last question floors him. 

“When you what?” Robby whispers, face furrowed in confusion, lips pulled down even more. 

You scoff at him again. “Don’t even try Robby. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t fucking know that in fucking August of last year I got offered an attending spot.” You look back over at him. Robby’s still facing you but his head is dropped slightly, eyes looking left and flicking around a little. He looks half confused and half devastated. “Holy shit, you really didn’t know. How the hell did you not know, Michael?”

He shakes his head slowly, still thinking. “Gloria and I were at each other’s throats particularly bad last August. Things were crazy here and she kept harping me about needing to interview and pick an attending and I snapped one day and told her that I didn’t even fucking care, that she could pick one for all I cared.” He looks up at you again. “I never thought she actually would. And she never told me that she actually did.”

You stare at him. It’s a plausible story and you can always tell when he’s lying to you or giving you a half truth or omitting something. And it’s not like you’ve told anyone. You’re one of those people who are afraid to announce it like it’ll jinx it somehow since it’s something that will start in the future. Your one exception to not saying anything was if you got with Robby. You’d tell people and let it be known because you figured it would appease some of his worries about it seeming like you got your job only because you were sleeping with him or in a relationship with him. But he never came to you after you signed. It broke your heart more than you wanted to admit. 

You’re not sure how to respond and Robby’s not sure what else to say. “Well, she did. And it was me. So hopefully that’s not disappointing news to you, I guess.” 

“Disappointing ne-” He decides part way through to not even finish the thought. Because the meaning of it all catches up with him. You have an attending position. And honestly, kind of even better, you have an attending position and Robby can honestly say he had absolutely no input into the decision. So while you’re not quite an attending yet, you’re pretty damn close. And that means Robby doesn’t have to break his own heart and tell you that you guys can’t. Doesn’t have to say when you’re an attending. For all intents and purposes you are one. “You can be mine now, Kid?” It’s almost a statement but not quite. 

You nod a little, look down at your shoes. “If you want me, yeah.” Robby doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice this small and the fact that you think he could possibly not want you kills him. 

“If I want you? If?” He’s quick to close the distance between you, hands at your waist and pulling you to him as he stops walking. Both of you are breathing heavier and after your eyes flit down to look at each other’s lips the tension between the two of you finally snaps. 

You kiss each other hard, sliding right into tongue and sucking. Your arms wrap around Robby’s neck, hands finding his hair and running through it, tugging at it when he kisses you in a way you particularly like. Robby pulls away so you can see each other and you make a noise of protest. “There was never a maybe. And I’m sorry if I said that. There’s no if. Never has been, Kid. Never will be. So will you go out with me? Be mine?” 

You smile at him, steal another kiss before nodding. “I’ll go out with you. And I’ll be yours as long as you’ll be mine.”

Robby laughs. The two of you are finally together. “Oh, I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You and Robby have been together a little over four months now. You’re pretty much living with him, you just haven’t made it quite official yet. It still feels a bit soon, even for you. Your lease will be up around ten months of dating so you think that’s when you’ll make it official and completely move in. If he wants. You’re pretty sure he will. You always hear about it the next day if you don’t sleep in the same bed the previous night.

You’re not surprised when you wake up and the bed is empty, even if you are a little disappointed. You know this is a bad day for him. A hard day. You’ve never actually been with him or around him on this day before because until now he took it off and you always inevitably ended up working it. You’re not sure what changed for him and why he feels like he’s ready to be there and work today and you’re not sure if it’s truly what’s best for him at this point, but you’ll support him, be there for him, let him lean on you, whatever he needs. You won’t give him a hard time about his decision to work. 

Robby’s in the kitchen making coffee when you pad in. You’re dressed only in one of his oversized shirts. He’s not entirely certain about working today. But he’s tired of letting the day have control over him. It feels wrong. And when Jake asked for Robby’s PittFest ticket so he could take his girlfriend Leah instead of Robby it felt like a sign.

“Morning,” you say softly as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. You press your cheek against his broad back and rest your hands on his tummy. 

“Morning, Kid.” Robby squeezes one of your hands before continuing to make the coffee. 

He’s been up long enough for the sleep to disappear from his voice and to shower. His hair is wet. “Sleep well?”

“I always sleep well when you’re in bed with me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Michael.” You press a kiss to his back. “Seriously.”

“I slept well, yes. I meant it.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his tone and you get it. You do. But you ask because you care about him and worry about him. 

“Good.” You close your eyes and just breathe him in for a couple of moments. “You sure about working today?”

He knew it was coming. And he knows you mean well and are asking because you care about him and he loves it. He really does. Because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had someone care about him the way you do. Because you’re in love with him and he’s in love with you even if you haven’t said it to each other yet. You both can tell the other is. But for some reason he doesn’t really understand, he just falters right before he can say it, can’t bring himself to as though that’ll somehow be what makes it more real, like it isn’t already. And he knows you haven’t told him because you don’t want him to feel pressured to return those three words.

But at the same time, you asking multiple times just in different words is going to be annoying today. That level of checking in on him. It is already. Because he just wants it to be a normal day. He doesn’t want everyone treating him like he’s made of glass just because one bad thing happened on this day. It’s suffocating. He knows it’s out of love and concern but it gets suffocating. 

Just like all the PPE was on this day when Adamson died. Maybe that’s part of why it hits such a nerve. 

Robby takes a second to breathe so that the mild irritation and frustration doesn’t seep into his tone. He doesn’t, however, explain or communicate that he can’t deal with the constant checking in, that it suffocates him. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. I’ll have you there with me if I need anything.” He’s hoping that last part tells you that he’ll come find you if he needs you and so you don’t have to ask. It understandably doesn’t. 

“I will, yes.” You’re quiet as you listen to the coffee percolate. You can feel how tense he is. You know you’ll never really be able to understand how hard this day is for him or in what ways it is. So you just want to be there for him, make sure he’s okay. You think maybe a distraction will help. Robby pours himself a cup of coffee as you speak. “Wanna shower with me?” you ask with a seductive lilt so he knows exactly what you mean. 

He laughs softly, takes a sip of his coffee and starts to turn in your arms. You relax your arms and let him, greet him with a sweet smile. “Come here,” he whispers, sticking his lips out. 

You shake your head. “I have morning breath.” 

He clicks his tongue at you. “When have I ever cared about that before?” 

You shrug. “It’s different when we both do.” 

“Come here,” he says again, more stern this time as he makes eye contact with you. You consider it for a moment but eventually give in. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. But you keep it chaste and short. There will be time for more after you brush your teeth, you’re sure.

“Shower?” You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smirk on your face, nails scratching gently at his back. 

He smirks at you. “My coffee will get cold.” He holds the cup up and tilts it just slightly before taking another sip.

You breathe out a slightly incredulous and hurt laugh, take your arms from around him as you speak. First he dodges the question and then that. You tell yourself it’s just because of the day and that he’s not in the mood or mentally there and that’s okay. That it makes sense. But coffee? He couldn’t just say no? “Wow, coffee’s better than my mouth or pussy, ouch.”

Michael rolls his eyes at you. That’s not at all what he meant. “Stop. And I’ve also already showered, which I know you know.” 

This time you just scoff and shake your head at him a little. “Yeah, because neither of us have ever gotten back in the shower with each other after we already showered. But okay,” you laugh quietly as you step back. Robby tilts his head at you as you walk away, he knows you have more to say. You stop and turn around to look at him before turning to go back to the bedroom and en suite to shower. “You know, Michael, you can just say no. You’re allowed to say no. I’m not going to force you to shower or have sex with me. Saying no is okay. Not being in the mood is okay, especially on a day like today. I suggested it to try and help distract you and maybe make you feel good.” The maybe is a little slip of insecurity. “You don’t even need a reason and you never have to explain why, but just, the way you communicate that no. The shitty excuses hurt. And they make me wonder about myself far more than ‘no I’m not in the mood’ does.” You turn and walk away. 

Robby sets his mug down and you hear it, shake your head to yourself. “Kid!” he calls after you, pushing off the kitchen counter. He never meant to hurt you or make you doubt yourself. He never meant to make it feel like this was a you thing. Because it’s not. It’s him. It’s the day. It’s his mood. 

You’re really not in the mood at this point. For sex of any kind or to have a conversation with him right now, honestly. You keep telling yourself that it’s just a really bad day for him. It has nothing to do with you or the two of you. It’s the day. You know Robby doesn’t see it well and you don’t point it out more because he has so much of his own shit going on, but you still have so much insecurity. About yourself. About the two of you. You worry you’re not good enough for him or aren’t what he expected and thought you’d be. 

You walk in the bathroom quickly and uncharacteristically lock the door behind you. Usually both you and Robby leave the door unlocked or even partially open when you shower. You turn the shower on and take his shirt off quickly, wanting to just be in the shower and have it as an excuse for not hearing him. If he even tries to talk to you. 

Robby almost slams into the door when it doesn’t open. He hadn’t expected it not to open. For you to have locked it. “Kid, please,” he calls loudly, hoping you’ll hear him over the water. He knocks on the door, with the middle knuckle of his index finger. “Please!” You can hear him. You just don’t feel like shouting, and again. You don’t really want to talk. 

You stand under the stream of hot water and zone out a bit. Ruminate. You know that you and Robby are fine. That you’re great. You know he’s attracted to you. That he loves having sex with you. You had incredible sex last night for god’s sake. It’s the day. It’s the emotions it brings up for him. The grief. You shouldn’t have even brought sex up. He’s sad and grieving and triggered today. Why would you do that? 

“Kid!” Robby calls again, still knocking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or insinuate coffee was better than you or anything like that.” When you don’t answer Robby goes and sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a long sigh. He lets his head fall back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He really could do without you doing this. Without this added thing and stress. The day is hard enough as it is. 

His voice brings you back and you start to do all of your normal shower things. You’re surprised when Robby’s not immediately knocking and calling for you again once he hears the shower turn off. You figure he’s probably gone back to his coffee and the thought sends a little pang through your heart. 

You wrap your towel around yourself and open the bathroom door. You almost jump a little when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted at you. You look at him for a moment and then walk to his dresser and open your drawer, pull out a set of scrubs, an undershirt and some underwear. You grab your bra off the floor where Robby threw it last night. You can feel his eyes on you, the way he’s tracked you across the room and is watching you. 

When you turn back around and see him he’s smiling to himself, it’s almost anticipatory. His eyes run up and down your towel covered body. He looks like he’s eager to see you naked when you get dressed. And he is. He abso-fucking-lutely is. It melts you a little bit. But you’re hurt still and he hasn’t offered an apology to your face. So you take your clothes and walk towards the bathroom. 

Robby draws out a scoff, but the disappointment rings through more than his irritation. “So what, I don’t even get to admire you as you get dressed anymore?”

You turn at the threshold of the bathroom door to look back at him, capture his gaze. You drag your eyes from him to the open bedroom door and then back to him. You’re stoic as you shrug. “Your coffee’s getting cold out there.”  

You just catch Robby’s shoulders and face fall as you turn back and step in the bathroom before shutting and locking the door. You already regret it. Wish you could take it back. You shouldn’t have hurt him just because he hurt you.

Your words sting, they hurt and sadden him. But he can at least understand why you said it. Robby lets out a long sigh and rubs his face but doesn’t get up. He doesn’t care about the fucking coffee. He doesn’t even want it anymore. He wants you. He wants to hold you close and kiss you. He wants to apologize. He wants your forgiveness. He needs all of that. Needs you.

You get dressed and finish getting ready in the bathroom quickly. You know you need to apologize to Robby and you want to, you really do feel awful. You just kind of hope he’ll also apologize to you. This is not the start to this day that either of you needed. 

Seeing Robby still sitting on the bed when you open the bathroom door is unexpected. You figured he’d go get his coffee and wait for you in the living room. 

You look at each other for a moment and then you break the silence. Robby wants to be the one to but the words just get caught in his throat before he can even open his mouth. “I’m sorry for being passive aggressive and saying that. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just talked to you and worked it out.”

Robby gives you a small smile. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry too.” He beckons you with two fingers and you walk over to him, stand between his legs when he opens them for you and rest your hands on his shoulders. He waits for you to look down at him before he continues. “I never meant to make you doubt yourself or feel unwanted. In any way. I didn’t think any of it through before I said it. Didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

You squeeze his shoulders gently. “I accept your apology.” You’re not sure what else to say.

“You know I want you. I always want you, Kid. I did this morning, I just…” He shakes his head and sighs. “My brain, you know? The thoughts and all that shit.” 

“I know, yeah,” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. “I thought sex might be a good distraction. I should’ve thought a little harder about it before I offered.” 

“It usually is.” He tilts his head at you. “Can I kiss you for real now? Not whatever that was that you gave me in the kitchen.”

You laugh softly and nod. “I’d like that.” Robby wraps his arms around you as he stands up, stopping at the right height to kiss you instead of standing straight. It’s a kiss that at just about any other time would lead to far more. It certainly leads to another kiss and then another, and before you realize it you and Robby have been standing there making out for a solid couple of minutes. 

He groans as he pulls away from you. “I don’t want to stop but I do want to have time to treat you to breakfast burritos and your choice of caffeine from that place down the street. Eat as we walk to work.”

“Treat me or yourself?” You smirk at him. 

“You.” He shakes his head at you a little as he says it. “The fact that it’s also a treat for me is just a fun coincidental bonus.” 

“Yeah, coincidental my ass, Robinavitch.” You try to keep your smirk up but it turns into a smile the more you stare at those big brown eyes you love so much. It almost slips out but you catch yourself, turn to walk to the entryway to get your shoes on. I love you. 

The two of you get breakfast burritos and coffee on the way in. Neither of you say anything but you both think it’s ironic that the coffee was a whole thing and then he just left his mug and the carafe of it sitting there at home. Once you get to work you get your stuff in your lockers, stethoscopes around your neck and head to the hub. 

The day passes relatively quickly. For you at least. From what you’ve gathered from others and what Robby has said when you’ve talked to him, things have not been as smooth for him as they have been for you. You make sure he has some semblance of a lunch, drinks some water. 

Towards the end of the shift he comes and finds you. It’s the first time he’s really purposefully sought you out all day. You wouldn’t say he was avoiding you but a little bit you felt like that. After you asked him if he was okay when you saw him for the second time while at work and got an exasperated answer you realized he was tired of being asked. You knew he was probably getting it from Dana too. So you stopped directly asking, figuring it out subtly through other means. And he’d appreciated it when you backed off. He’d recognized when you’d done so. It had made him feel a little less suffocated and a lot loved even without exchange of the words. Because it was clear how well you knew him and how easily you picked up on what he needed. 

That’s why him seeking you out has you so concerned. It has to be bad. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Robby’s voice is strained as he grabs your elbow and starts walking you towards an empty room. 

Your face furrows as you let him lead you into the room. “Everything okay?” You wonder if this is about Dana and what happened to her.

He doesn’t answer, just closes the door as you walk in the room and stands with his back to the window. “I’m gonna tell you something but you have to keep your reaction really controlled, okay? And obviously you can’t tell anyone.” You nod. “Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and has been stealing meds.” 

The furrows smooth out of your face and you have no real facial reaction other than in your eyes which only Robby can see. They widen just slightly with shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know. I fucking know. I sent him home but I fucking,” Robby’s shaking his head hard. His eyes are a little glassy. You know Langdon is kind of Robby’s protégé. Everyone does. Just like everyone knows you kind of are too. “I let a drug addict practice medicine and treat patients. I fucking let him.”

You tilt your head and shake it at him. “Michael, you didn’t let him do anything. This isn’t your fault. I understand you feeling like it is, and that’s valid of course, but I promise you it’s not your fault.”

He shrugs at you, looks so incredibly helpless and at a loss. It breaks your heart. You walk towards him and pull him further in the room a little bit, drawing the curtain to give the two of you a little privacy. You walk back so that you’re standing right in front of him, just enough space between the two of you that you can see each other. 

You don’t say anything as you reach up and start rubbing at his shoulders and the back of his neck before he can. You feel him relax and he drops his head, eyes fluttering close while his hands come to settle on your hips. 

He doesn’t understand how you always seem to know what he needs. When he needs you to talk to him. When he just needs quiet acceptance and to just be in your presence like this. How you’ve picked up on him rubbing his neck. It’s more comforting and soothing when you do it, the circles he rubs on your hips over your scrubs keeping his hands busy. 

You’re a little surprised by it honestly. You thought he might reject this little bit of comfort you’re offering him. Not because of you but because he rarely accepts it at work even in private like this. You’re pretty sure his brain constantly tells him he doesn’t deserve the comfort here. 

“We need to get back out there,” he finally mumbles, bringing his head back up and opening his eyes. 

“Probably, yeah,” you agree. You stop rubbing his neck and loosen your arms but keep them where they are for a moment to see if he’ll hug you. You’re not going to push it on him, not going to make him feel bad when it’s too much for him right now. 

Robby’s hands squeeze your hips one last time. “Thanks, Kid.” He pulls away and you drop your arms, stepping out of the room with him once he pushes the curtain back. 

You both get sucked back into work and you don’t see much of Robby until him racing in from the ambulance bay catches your attention. Dana comes walking in quickly behind him and you catch her gaze, tilt your head as you walk over. 

A frown and worried brows are etched deep into her face. “There’s a shooter at PittFest. MCI protocol.” 

Everything freezes for a second as you hit fight or flight, limbs going cold and nausea creeping up on you. You say nothing to Dana, immediately turning and following after Robby because you know he put his phone in his locker earlier and is going to get it. 

“Don’t!” you yell at him as he opens his locker. “Michael, do not call or text him!”

He doesn’t stop, grabbing his phone and starting to unlock it. “Are you out of your fucking mind-”

“If he’s hiding and doesn’t have his phone on silent it could give him away,” you rush out before Robby can hit send or call. 

He freezes and looks up at you finally. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck!” That one is yelled. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”

You walk over to him and cover one of his hands with yours. “Because you’re effectively his dad in a lot of ways, Michael, and so you’re too close to it, of course your first instinct was to call him to see if he was okay. I love him too and it’s not that I don’t want to know if he’s okay, and I know it’s very unlikely there’s really anywhere to hide and that it’s probably so loud his phone ringing would barely be audible, but I just think it’s better to be safe right now. He’ll know to call or text you or his mom. He’ll know. And if Janey hears from him she will call you. I know she will.”

He’s breathing hard as he looks at you before finally look away as he shuts his locker. “What if it’s David, Kid?” he whispers. Robby looks back at you and his lip trembles just slightly. The implication is clear. Robby had told you about David and everything that was going on there. You know his worry is valid. “What if I just got Jake killed? Killed another person on this fucking day.”

You let out a long breath as you shake your head. There’s a lot to unpack there. “Okay. Everything you just said, and all of your feelings make sense and are real and valid and I’m acknowledging them. I’m not trying to brush anything off. And I will be there for you whatever happens. But we don’t have a lot of time here so we’re going to have to come back and explore this all more if you want. For right now though, you didn’t kill Adamson, Michael. Covid did. You had to make a terrible decision nobody should ever have to make, but that wasn’t you killing him. And you can’t do this to yourself Robby. If and I mean if it was David, it would still be a random act of violence. You can’t control that. And right now the patients about to come in and Jake and Leah need you to focus on getting everyone ready for this and then handling this MCI and you cannot do that and be focusing on the what ifs, okay?” 

Robby wants to believe you. He wants to believe what you just said but he can’t. He just fucking can’t. He did kill Adamson. He will have killed Jake. He knows you’re right about the end bit though. He has to shove all of this in a box so that he can focus on what’s about to happen and patients. 

You can tell Robby wants to fight you about it but decides not to in favor of very uncharacteristically hugging and kissing you publicly at work before walking away to start implementing protocol with Dana. It leaves you standing there blinking at the wall for a second before you’re able to turn and walk back towards the hub to help. 

Robby’s hugging Jack as you walk up. You and Jack exchange a look. You know that Jack knows that Jake’s at PittFest. You know Jack knows how bad the day is for Robby. 

When Jack starts unpacking supplies you go in to help him. 

“How is he?” Jack asks. 

You can’t help the way you huff. “How do you fucking think Jack?”

When he doesn’t reply you look up at him. Jack’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised and mouth set, edges up just a tiny bit to show he’s not mad, asking excuse me? and how did you just speak to me? without a word. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” You set down what you’re holding and rub at the back of your neck. You see Jack’s smile pull up a little more as he recognizes what you’re doing, what you’ve learned from Robby. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten snippy. It’s just Jake, you know?” The breath you let out is shuddery. “I don’t know if even I could save Robby if something happened to him and Robby couldn’t save him, Jack.”

Jack’s face softens and he squeezes your shoulder. “I know. I wish there was more I could say, but I know. I’m worried about him and that possibility too.”

The two of you start to unpack again. “I just need him to call or text Michael or his mom and say he’s okay and on his way home. I need this to not happen to him today. I mean or ever, but you know. He doesn’t need to feel more grief and loss that he thinks he’s responsible for today.” 

“All we can do is be there for him,” Jack murmurs. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you murmur back. 

Once you finish unpacking and arranging supplies Jack faces you before the two of you walk out to where Robby is starting to gather everyone. 

“I need you to promise me that if something happens with Jake, if, god forbid, he ends up here and is critical, you will let me run it with Robby. We won’t get him to not work on him, we won’t have time to argue about it with him. We both know that.” Jack nods at you. “So you need to let me be the one to work with him. You need to let me be the one to convince him we’re not getting Jake back and he has to let Jake go. Because you’re the best thing in his life. You keep him going. So I don’t want him associating being unable to save Jake with you. He might work through the emotions it brings up, he might not. But if he doesn’t… Robby’s only going to survive something like that with you by his side. He could survive it without me, he could cut me out and lose me and survive. He couldn’t survive it without you. So I need you to promise me if Jake ends up here, you’re going to let me be with Robby until TOD is called. Same with Jake’s girlfriend.”

You swallow hard as you look at Jack. It will be hard for you to stay away. You worry Robby will wonder why you’re not there, why you didn’t drop everything to come help him. But you also know that he’s not really going to be worried about that in the moment. He’ll be too focused on Jake. And Jack’s words make your heart ache. Yes, because it’s sweet that Jack knows what you mean to Robby, that he can see it and that Robby has talked to him about it. But it’s more because you recognize the sacrifice Jack’s volunteering to make for Robby and Robby’s happiness and ability to get through this. The sacrifice in running the risk of losing his best friend, because Jack doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t have a significant other. He has Dana but that friendship isn’t like his and Robby’s. 

“I think you’re selling yourself quite short there, Jack,” you whisper. 

He shakes his head to say he doesn’t care. “Promise me.” 

You hold his gaze for another few seconds before you look away. “Okay,” you nod, “I promise.” 

“Good. Let’s go.” 

“Jack?” He turns at the threshold and looks back at you. “Thank you.” 

He simply nods and the two of you walk out. You stand by Shen while Jack stands by Robby, the two of them talking things through with the group, explaining how a lot of this is going to work, who’s going to be where, what to do when different things happen. 

“Communicate,” Robby tells the group. “Ask for help if you need it.” 

You look at Dana when he says that. Which was the wrong move because you both end up having to stifle laughs. You know it’s inappropriate. You know it’s not funny. And you know that Robby’s really good at the whole ‘do as I say not as I do’ thing, and if what he just said isn’t a textbook example you don’t know what is. So in the moment his words just strike you as funny, in part because all of this is a situation where if you don’t laugh you’re going to cry. Dark humor becomes a coping mechanism. You at least do a good job of stifling it and covering your mouth, can tell you hid it enough and everyone was so focused on Robby and Jack they didn’t see anything. 

Everyone disperses and patients start rolling in. Time loses any real meaning. It could have been forty minutes or four hours. You have no idea. You just know that patients keep rolling in. Never Jake or Leah. 

Neither of you can decide in your heads whether that’s a good or bad thing. Whether it means they’re dead on the scene or that they escaped and are okay and lost their phones in the chaos and are trying to get further away from the scene before they ask to borrow someone’s phone to call people or are just trying to get home.

Robby and you both glance at Dana every chance you get. She has Robby’s phone so she’ll know if Jake or Janey get in touch with him. The patients in front of him at least help distract Robby somewhat. That anxiety about Jake never goes away. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. But it goes to the back enough that he can focus and be a good doctor. 

Patients continue to arrive. In ambulances and cop cars and civilian cars and business vans. 

But never Jake and Leah. 

You’ve been at the Pitt a year and a month now. You’ve been an R2 for a month. You’ve already learned a lot. You’ve already had devastating losses and incredible saves. You’ve already thought about staying here past your residency. You’ve already grown close with a number of people. You’ve already grown very close with one person. 

Michael Robinavitch. Robby. 

You know how bad it could seem. How bad it might already seem. But you and Robby both know it’s there. Something far beyond platonic. You both feel it. And it only grew over your intern year and is continuing to. 

You haven’t discussed it outright but the energy and attraction between the two of you is so clearly there and you’ve seen it in his eyes. When he’s leaning in close to you to help teach you something and his pupils are a bit more dilated than they should be in the lighting. When he sees another man flirt with you and they blaze with what seems like anger but is really jealousy. When you’ve just pulled a double together and have hit silly and are laughing so hard you’re both crying at something so incredibly stupid and his eyes crinkle with affection that never appears for anyone else. 

And Robby’s seen it in your eyes. When something horrible happens and your eyes find his before anybody else’s and a little spirit comes back into them just from making eye contact with him. When he’s hiding how badly something with a patient or family has shaken him and turns to find you and you’re already looking at him with soft eyes full of recognition and understanding that make him feel so seen in a way he hasn’t felt before. When you bring him some sort of treat, sweet or savory, and pass him a post-it note that you pretend is a note about a patient but really says it’s in the fridge with his name on it and your eyes sparkle with an adoration he’s yet to see you look at anyone else with. 

Robby knows he cannot do anything, there cannot be anything between the two of you, not even some semblance of anything until you’re an attending or maybe an R4 if you’ve already accepted an attending position. Being with you before you’re an attending wouldn’t look professionally great for him, but that’s not what he worries about. He worries how it would look for you, like a young woman sleeping with her boss, how people would at the very least have in the back of their minds that you were sleeping your way to the top or you got given things because you were sleeping with your boss or were eventually offered an attending position because you were sleeping with your boss. 

Robby knows not everyone would think that. And he knows it absolutely would not be that. But he doesn’t even want you to risk it. Not for him. He knows your career and reputation have to be your first priority. 

Dana and Jack have both asked him about you after observing the two of you together. He assures them that while, yeah, he has some feelings for you, it is strictly platonic between the two of you, him mentoring just like he does everyone else. 

And so neither of you have ever made any really overt move. Because you both know you can’t.

So there’s been no real discussion about ‘one day’ or if there ever could be a future for the two of you. 

But now that you're a month and a bit into being an R2 and don’t have the label of ‘intern’ and feel like you have a better handle on being a doctor you’ve grown more confident. Not over-confident or cocky. Not even close. Just a bit more sure of yourself. Professionally and personally. And so your joking around with and screwing with and flirting with Robby has intensified a little. It’ll continue to do so your entire residency. 

And while Robby is a bit more reserved, particularly when it comes to flirting and anything vaguely sexual, he still gives it back in his own way. It is overwhelmingly not one sided. 

It’s not just sexual. You and Robby are close. You go to each other with problems and to vent. You seek each other out for comfort. And it’s comfort that forces you both to acknowledge it and discuss it, this thing between you. 

You find yourself sitting on the roof, back pressed up against the wall and legs out in front of you. You’re technically off. You want to be anywhere other than this fucking hospital. And yet you can’t bring yourself to move. 

You stay quiet and still when you hear the door to the roof open, hope whoever is up here won’t notice you before they leave. 

Unfortunately for you the person who walks onto the roof has spent the last thirty minutes looking for you. And Robby’s slightly panicked about it. You’ve seemed off all day. Sad. Overwhelmingly sad. In particular the last time he saw you he felt like you looked… done. With everything. With the world. 

The sigh he lets out when he sees you sitting there on the roof is of relief. You can tell that it’s not irritation or annoyance. 

“Go away,” you call half-heartedly when he starts to walk over. 

“Go away? I don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away before.” Robby tries to keep it light. 

“First time for everything,” you mutter. 

That pulls a small laugh from him. He comes and sits next to you against the wall. He’s close, your sides pressing against each other. Closer than the average mentor-mentee would be sitting for sure. 

You don’t say anything and so for a few minutes the two of you sit in silence, each of you focused on the way the other feels pressed up against you. But Robby wants, maybe needs if he’s honest with himself, to know what’s wrong so he can help you. 

“Talk to me Kid.” And there it is. That name he only calls you. 

You shake your head a little and sigh. Robby hates how sad it sounds. He doesn’t even really think about his next move. He just reaches out and slips his hand into yours where it rests on your thigh, laces your fingers together.

With the setting and context of why you’re both up here together it’s an incredibly intimate gesture. 

You’re not quite sure what to make of it but he initiated it and it feels good. Makes you feel safe and cared for. You look down at your intertwined hands for a moment. His hand engulfs yours with how much bigger it is and it’s so warm. He always runs so warm. 

“I don’t know,” you finally force yourself to say. “I really don’t know.” 

Robby nods slowly. “Just one of those days?” he offers. 

“I guess.” You shrug. It might seem like the silence is purposeful but in reality it’s Robby trying to think of what to say. “I’m just tired, I think.” You sniffle and it’s then you realize that you’re kind of teary. “Fuck,” you mutter. 

“It’s okay, Kid. I’ve had these days too. Some days you’re just tired and so it all hits harder, even shit that normally wouldn’t make you blink.” Robby rubs what he hopes are soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” you take in a choked breath, “I’m just really fucking tired.” The tears start to fall freely then and you squeeze Robby’s hand hard like it’ll make them stop. They’re at least mercifully silent, it’s not like you’re totally sobbing in front of him. 

But then Robby really notices how much you’re crying and lets go of your hand to raise his arm so you can lean into him as he pulls you to him, your legs shifting automatically to get in a more comfortable position as you lean into his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers, tilts his head so that his cheek rests on the top of your head.

You shake your head but hold onto him as you cry, relish in the circles his big hand rubs on your back. You don’t cry for long. A few minutes. And it’s not loud or even sobbing, it’s just crying. Just blinking out tears that end up wetting his scrub top, the occasional shuddery or hiccupped breath. 

You don’t move once you stop though and Robby doesn’t ask you to. Doesn’t shift his body to suggest you move. His cheek remains on your head and his hand continues to rub circles on your back. “I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper. 

“Never be sorry for needing to let something out. It accumulates in this job.” Robby goes to turn his head so that he can kiss the top of yours but he catches himself and stops before he can. “And if you don’t let it out somehow it can become debilitating.” 

You can feel the vibrations of him speaking and it soothes you further. “Everything just felt so shit today. All of the backstories of what brought my patients in today. All crime and abuse. Every single patient.”

“That’s one of the worst kind of days here,” Robby sympathizes. 

“I hate that it’s one kind.”

That makes him laugh which makes you smile. “Yeah there’s a lot of kinds of worst days in this job unfortunately.” 

You sigh and finally pull away from him. But his hand on your back doesn’t let you go particularly far. And when you both lean in a little your faces are close enough to feel each other’s breaths. “Does it ever get better?” you whisper. 

Robby shakes his head slightly. “No.”

You both watch each other’s eyes glance down at the other’s lips. You both lean into each other even more. You both tilt your heads in the opposite direction of the other. You both let your eyes flutter closed. 

But the second you truly feel the heat of Robby’s breath against your lips he pulls away. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

You look down, embarrassed and disappointed and guilty. But despite the almost kiss and Robby pulling away neither of you have otherwise moved. You’re still close together. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur. 

“No!” Robby laughs, a heavy dose of self-exasperation in it. “Don’t be. God, fucking don’t be. And don’t think I don’t want to. That I don’t want… that. With you. But your name and reputation and career… we can’t. We can’t.” Robby moves his head back so he’s looking at you, uses his free hand to guide your chin up so you’re looking at him. “When you’re an attending, okay?” You nod at him and he repeats it. “When you’re an attending.” 

The sinking feeling in your and Robby’s stomachs intensifies as more patients come in who aren’t Jake or Leah and at the lack of phone call or text. You get your patient in Walsh’s hands to be taken up to surgery and change into a fresh trauma gown and step outside, checking on triage but also getting some air. 

“You good?” Robby asks, walking up behind you. He doesn’t really wait for your answer, continuing to walk towards Shen and Ellis. But the quick press of his ungloved hand against your lower back as he walks by makes up for it a little. 

You don’t bother voicing an answer, nor do you follow him to ask him the same question. You already know the answer. 

As Robby’s talking about getting gurneys to the right angle and helping fix them a truck comes squealing in. Shen and Ellis jump up and start yelling out colors. You put on a pair of gloves pulled from your pocket and wait nearby to see if there’s a red coming. But then you hear it and are hopping up on the tire of the truck to look in the bed. “Michael!”

You yell his name. And Robby immediately knows it has to be Jake. He has never heard you yell his name before and there’s only a handful of reasons why you would today. He tells himself there’s a tint of hope to your tone. “Jake?” Robby yells as he runs over. But he hears Jake’s voice and a wave of relief passes through him now that he at least knows where he is and that he’s okay enough for right now to speak. 

“Red zone. GSW left chest,” Ellis assesses Leah. 

“Jake, are you shot?” you ask him as Robby arrives. 

“I don’t know my, my leg maybe, it’s Leah. It’s Leah’s blood, she was shot, was shot in the chest and I’ve been putting pressure on it the whole time, and I don’t know-”

“That’s good,” Robby cuts him off, “you did good, okay?” 

You get Leah onto a gurney and Jake out of the truck. He walks in holding onto the side of Leah’s gurney opposite Robby. “Get him a wheelchair!” Robby calls. He notices you walking away while he argues with Jake about getting in the wheelchair and staying there and out of the way. He finds it odd, is a little miffed that you’re abandoning him with Leah and Jake. 

But you’re speedwalking to Jack. “Leah. GSW left chest. I don’t think there’s any way. It had to have shredded her heart,” you say just loudly enough for Jack to hear as you take the bag of blood he’s squeezing into his patient from him. He nods at you, gives you a rundown on the patient in front of you as he walks backwards towards Robby, turning when he’s finished. 

“Samira!” you call out to her when you see her look around. “Jake.” You flick your head at him. “Probable GSW to the leg. But head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and it’s masking another injury.” 

“Got it.” She nods and is off to Jake, finding a gurney for him to get on. 

Robby glances at Samira with Jake. “What the fuck?” It’s loud enough for you to hear. 

“Me, Michael!” you call over to him. “I sent her to do a head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and not feeling another injury.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a vague nod as he turns back to Leah. He can’t believe he didn’t think about that either. That’s twice now you might’ve saved Jake. First telling him not to call just in case. Now this. He’s lucky. He’s beyond lucky to have you. “Jake you do whatever the fuck Samira tells you without a fucking word of argument!” 

You get the patient you took from Jack stable and up to surgery, start working on the next red to roll in. They stabilize relatively fast and you find yourself squeezing in blood again. But this time your eyes are flicking between the patient and Robby and Jack and the way Jack is having to talk Robby into accepting that Leah is gone. You can’t hear any of it but you know that’s what’s happening based on the expression on Jack’s face and how he keeps chasing Robby’s eye contact.

After a minute everyone stills and you watch Robby write on Leah’s card and circle around it. You know he called it. Jack’s back over to you quickly, taking the blood from you this time as you give him the rundown on this patient. “Michael!” you call as you walk over to him quickly. 

“I have to go tell Jake,” he mutters, shaking his head and turning to look in your direction but not at you. He’d been watching them wheel Leah into pedes. 

“Do you want me to go with-”

“No. No it’s fine, thanks, I got it. Santos was looking for an attending, go find her.” He walks away without looking at you. He can’t bring himself to. The shame he’s feeling at not being able to save her, at failing Jake a little too heavy to let him lift his head to look at you. 

You watch him for a second as he walks away. Your heart aches for him, for the man you love and the news he has to go deliver to a teenager he considers his son in a way. You can’t ruminate though. Too many other people need you. 

So you do what Robby said and go to find Santos. You get involved with her and by the time you’re done you look around but you can’t spot Robby. “Dana, have you seen Robby?” you ask her as she walks by. 

“I think I saw him taking Jake to pedes.” She grimaces at you. 

You nod and make your way there, opening the door and stopping short. “Michael?”

Robby’s on the floor, knees up to his chest and holding onto his necklace while reciting a prayer through tears. He doesn’t acknowledge you. It hurts to see him like this. It’s physically painful. But he needs you so you set it aside. 

“Michael,” you say softly as you sit down next to him so that your sides are pressing against each other’s. “I’m here.” You grab one of his hands, hold onto it harder when he tries to pull it away. 

“You need to go back out there,” he sniffles. “They need you.” He flicks his eyes up at you. 

There’s truth in his words. But there’s also truth in yours. “Not as much as you do right now.” 

“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I, I…” He shrugs at you before breaking down in tears again, but this time letting himself fall into your gownless lap. 

“Okay,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t save her,” he chokes out, “another person I couldn’t fucking save. Another I killed. Another I let down. It’s two because Jake. I let him down too and he knows it.” You curl around him as much as you can, move his gown and kiss at his shoulder. You let him have a moment and get it out. Because you both know you don’t have much longer than that. “And the worst,” he sobs, “the worst part is it should’ve been me, Kid. It should be me on that gurney. It was my pass that I gave him for her.”

That last sentence is hard to hear. Because you can’t imagine a world without Robby in it. A world where you have to bury him. You want to tell him not to say shit like that, but you swallow down your upset because he doesn’t need that right now. You know there’s very little he needs right now in a sense. He doesn’t need a lot of words or you trying to make this better and discuss his feelings and emotions. He just needs to let some of this out.

Robby knows that’s all he needs right now, too. To let some of what’s eating away at him out in the one place he feels safe. 

You. 

You’re his safe place. He didn’t realize just how much he needed you here with him until you walked in and sat next to him and took his hand. You make it better. You make it hurt less. Just by being here for him. 

“You didn’t kill Adamson or Leah,” you murmur after a minute. “And you haven’t let them or Jake down. Your feelings are valid Michael, and I know I can’t begin to understand on multiple levels but the way you are feeling makes sense. We can work through your feelings. You can work through them. You can get through this. No matter how hopeless and impossible it feels right now.” You pause, have to swallow hard and blink away some tears. “And I wish that nobody was on that gurney. I don’t want anyone on that gurney. I wish none of this had ever happened. For you and Jake and Leah and everyone involved. And maybe saying this is wrong of me. It’s probably selfish. Maybe I’m a terrible person for it. You can hate me for it if you need to and like I said I truly wish none of this happened and nobody was on that gurney. But I am really fucking glad it’s not you on that gurney Michael because I have no fucking idea what I would do.” You let out a shuddery breath. “And I wish we had more time and that I could say more and hold you more and that all of this was over but it’s not.” You scratch at his scalp a little. “They need us.” He nods and sits up, looks over at you. “They need you.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. He’s let himself grow numb. Because right now that’s what he needs to be to get through this right now. 

“I need you,” you whisper back. He knows what you mean. He knows what you’re worried about. Him taking a walk off the roof or something.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kid.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He nods.

“Good.” You nod and stand up, hold out your hand to him. He lets out a soft laugh as he takes your hand and lets you help him up. 

You both take a second to wipe your faces a bit. “Find me if you need me, okay?”

“I will,” Robby promises again. 

You nod and open the door, both of you walking out. Within seconds both of your names are called.  

“Hey.” He grabs your wrist gently before you can go. You look at him with raised brows. He wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. But he can’t. “Thank you.” I love you.

Robby slips off his stool at the high top a group of you are sitting at and follows you up to the side of the bar, takes his drink with him. You were sitting across from him at the end of the table and the rest of the group was so focused on their conversation he doesn’t think anyone even realized he followed you. A little bit he doesn’t care if they did. 

You’re down near the last two stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get you your drink. It’s busy so you’re sitting while you wait, wanting to be off your feet after a long shift. Robby setting his beer down startles you for just a second. But you can quickly tell it’s him. 

By the sweatshirt sleeve rolled up. By the smell of his cologne lingering just enough under all the hibiclens you can appreciate it since you know what it smells like very well by now. By the hand that sets down the beer. By his fingers. 

You look over at him with raised brows. His glass is still over half full. He came to talk to you. 

“You’ve been calling me Michael lately.” He keeps his face pretty stoic, for him at least. But you can see the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his beard shift just slightly as the corners of his lips twitch up. 

“What an astute observation, Dr. Robinavitch.” You keep your smirk to a minimum. “I don’t have a gold star sticker on me to give you but I can buy you another drink.” Very little in life gives you as much pleasure as screwing with Robby. If you were together like you wanted you could think of at least three body parts that would be added to that list. 

Your words earn you the slightest raise of his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Why what?” Your eyes sparkle with mirth as your drink gets dropped off and you take a sip. They’re beautiful sparkling like this. They always are but Robby finds them particularly beautiful like this, when you’re happy and light-hearted and teasing. 

And it’s just like you to make him say it. Be specific. “Why do you call me Michael? Why’d you start?”

“Makes me feel special.” You smirk fully this time. “It makes me feel special because there’s a handful of people you let call you it, especially at the hospital, and you actively try and make people not call you it. I wasn’t actually sure you were gonna let me call you it at first. Guess being an R3 has privileges. But then again, I’m the only R3 you let call you it.”

“You’re the only R3 who has ever called me it. None of the others have tried. And you didn’t answer the second question,” he points out. 

“I mean  yeah, I kind of did. I started because it makes me feel special.” He gives you a look and you sigh. “In part because I wanted to see if you’d let me. In part because, I don’t know,” you smile softly to yourself and look down, “I like it. Calling you Michael. It makes me feel close to you.” Robby’s never seen you look so shy and it rocks him a little. But the shyness fades quickly for you as you look back up at him. “And in part because some of the new interns got comfortable a couple of months in and were getting a little too flirty with you for my taste. So you can imagine how smug and pleased with myself I was every time I called you Michael in front of them and you said nothing and every time one of them called you Michael and you had to correct them and tell them it was Robby or Dr. Robinavitch until they finally got the picture.”

“So jealousy?” He smirks. It makes him feel good in a way, knowing that you were jealous of attention he was getting. That you care about him and want him enough to be jealous. To feel a little possessive. “And that’s why you needed to feel special? A little petty of a response, no?”

“Oh Michael,” you chuckle, take a sip of your drink. “You and I both know you are so not the one to talk about being petty as a response to jealousy. Should I start listing things you’ve done in response to me being flirted with?”

“You really shouldn’t call me it.” He’s grown a bit more serious again. 

“Are you telling me to stop?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want you to. Just… You shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Your brows furrow a little in confusion. You don’t get why it matters unless he doesn’t want you calling him it for a personal reason.

“People will wonder why you’re allowed to. It makes,” he gestures between the two of you as you take a sip of your drink but doesn’t name anything, “obvious. People will start thinking and seeing it.”

You choke on your drink, coming close to spitting it out all over him. The coughs you get out once you’ve managed to swallow turn into laughter. “Michael.” You cock your head at him and give him an incredulous smile. “You cannot actually believe that me calling you Michael is what’s going to give this thing between us away. Because it’s been given away. It was given away for sure by the end of my intern year. Nobody asked me anything during my intern year I’m guessing because I was an intern, but a couple weeks into being an R2 I was getting questions. Dana and Jack never asked you or talked to you about it? Because they’ve certainly asked and talked to me.”

Robby blushes at the realization. Deep down he probably always knew that everyone could see it and he’d just managed to convince himself otherwise. “Of course they did,” he answers your question, not sure how to respond to everything before it. “I just thought it was because they were more… perceptive. That they knew me better and could see it in me.”

You have to laugh a little and bite your lip. “You know, you’re sitting here pointing out that halfway through my third year of residency I’ve just started calling you Michael, your first name, and it’s almost like you’ve forgotten you always call me Kid. Only me. Since my first fucking day here. I don’t remember the last time I heard you say my first or last name for something other than introducing me to someone, in front of a patient or in some very formal situation. And I’d like to point out that not a single god damned person has ever heard you call me Kid and then tried to call me Kid unlike with me calling you Michael. I wonder why that is? It’s almost like it comes across as a little more than a nickname to people.”

He looks at you for a second. “I…”

You hold your hand up and half wave him off. “It’s okay. I’ll stop calling you it, Robby.” It’s half teasing and half serious. 

You slide off your stool and grab your drink intending to walk back to the table. Robby’s quick to slide off his stool and stand in front of you though, blocking your path. He looks at the stool you were sitting on pointedly and then back at you. You follow his silent order and sit and set your drink back down.

He leans in a little closer to you than he was. “I never asked you to stop calling me it, nor did I say you needed to.” He raises his eyebrows at you and bobs his head. “Nor do I want you to. I like it when you do. A lot.” 

You smirk at his admission and shrug at him. “You were making an awfully big deal about it.” 

“Yeah because it, it…”

You’re genuinely not sure how he wanted to end that sentence. “It what Michael?”

Robby shakes his head at you. “Just… you’re not an attending yet. Maybe when you’re an attending, okay?”

You know Robby isn’t talking about you calling him Michael. Isn’t saying that you can’t call him Michael until you’re an attending. He’s saying what he’s said since that time on the roof that when you’re an attending the two of you can act on the feelings you clearly have for each other. 

But the maybe in front of that phrase is new and hits you like a slap across the face, heart twisting as it sinks into your stomach. He’s never said that before. It’s never been a maybe and not a certainty. Robby watches your face fall and hurt cloud your eyes. He replays what he said trying to figure out what part it was that hurt you, that made your entire demeanor change. If you’re just that disappointed you didn't change his mind and aren’t suddenly a couple or if it’s something else. He can’t figure it out.  

You swallow thickly, tears sting your eyes but you’re quick to blink them away. “Yeah.” You nod at him finally. “Maybe. But you know, that assumes I become an attending here, Robby. In Pittsburgh at the very least. And I don’t know if I will.”

You slip off your stool, leaving your half empty drink and heading over to the table. You tell everyone the exhaustion has hit and so you’re going to head home. They’re sad to see you go but nobody questions much. You cover well enough that if anyone had noticed you and Robby talking they wouldn’t think you were hurt by him and running away. Which you know is kind of what you’re doing instead of just asking him about it. Asking him if he doesn’t want to try the two of you anymore. If he doesn’t want you anymore. If that’s why it’s a maybe all of the sudden.

Your words throw Robby for a second because he realizes that you’re right, neither of you know for sure if you’ll get an attending job at PTMC or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. He realizes the two of you have never had a real conversation about if you want to stay in Pittsburgh, if you’re going to apply for attending spots in Pittsburgh or if you want to go somewhere else. And then he realizes you called him Robby. 

He’s not sure what to do with that. What it means. He slides off his stool and goes to look for you at the table, doesn’t see you but thinks you’re in the bathroom until he’s told no, you left. He has to play it cool and nod like he isn’t internally panicking about whatever the fuck just happened. And he can’t just leave because it’ll look suspicious. He has to wait a respectable amount of time, ends up leaving when Samira and Langdon do. 

Robby calls you as he walks home. No answer. He has no idea what to even say to you right now so he doesn’t leave a message. He decides to text you instead. He’s worried about you and whether you’re okay and got home safe. He’s always worried about you when he doesn’t have eyes on you. 

R - Let me know you got home safe  R - Please

You don’t reply immediately. Or within five minutes. Or within ten minutes. It’s almost long enough to make him start panicking and change his direction to walk to your place and see if you’re there. Because of course he knows where you live and has been to your place before. But then you finally reply.

You - I did, yeah, thanks. Was showering. I hope you have a good rest of your night

It’s the truth. You were in the shower. In the shower standing under almost scalding water ruminating on ‘maybe when you’re an attending.’ Maybe. When did it become maybe for him? And why? You hate how bad it hurts, the thought of never getting to even try with him. The thought of him not wanting you anymore, of his feelings for you just disappearing. It makes you anxious. 

And more than anything right now, you’re confused. So fucking confused because he’s still flirting with you just as much and as hard as he always has when you guys are alone together or when you’re close enough to whisper. His hands and fingers still linger just a couple of seconds too long when he passes you something or wrap over yours to show you how to do something. You still feel his eyes on you when you talk to other men, especially if the men flirt with you. You still notice him checking you out sometimes. But now it’s maybe. Maybe. 

Robby lets out a breath when your message comes through. He debates calling you again to try and talk on the phone but he’s still not sure what to say. He walks into his apartment and drops his stuff, heads to his room and takes his scrub top and pants off before letting himself sit on the edge of the bed and reply.

R - Good.  R - Are we okay? You left quickly and without saying bye

After you finish getting ready, you slide into your bed and turn the tv on while you think about what to say to his message. Tone is so hard to get out of texts but you can tell he clearly still cares about you and whatever is between you. Enough to ask if the two of you are okay. It helps your anxiety a little bit. 

You - Yeah, we’re fine

He believes you but the word ‘fine’ also scares him. It’s not good or great or perfect or even normal or like we always are. So he can’t let the conversation die. Not when he’s still so unsure about whether you guys are okay or if he did something or if you still want him or if you’re mad at him. 

R - Are you working tomorrow? 

You - Yeah but at night. I’m starting a string of six nights to help cover. 

Robby knows you’ll be with Jack every night. He remembers Jack mentioning a string of six on. He’s not jealous in a romantic sense. He’s jealous of the time Jack will get to spend with you and is already thinking of excuses to stay late to be with you. He’s sad that he won’t see you for more than maybe an hour or so for the next six days.

R - Abbot’s going to try to steal you from days permanently

You type out your reply. It’s genuine but you know it’s going to seriously fuck with him and that the idea will freak him out and make him scared of losing you. Or will it? You don’t seem to know anymore. And that hurts. And hurt people hurt people. But you pause. You erase your last sentence. ‘Maybe when I’m an attending.’

You - He just might. Going to bed at 7 in the morning rather than getting up early enough to be at work for 7 in the morning kind of appeals to me

Robby stares at your response, a wave of deeper anxiety passing over him. You can’t go to nights. He’d barely see you. You can’t be serious about this. 

R - Really?

You - Yeah. Why?

Fuck. You are serious about this. And what the fuck is he supposed to say in response to your question? He knows you know why. He knows you know how he feels about you. How he wants you too. How he can’t wait for you to be an attending or even accept a position because then he can finally have you.

R - Would be a big loss for day shift. You’re one of the best

That hurts a little. That you switching to nights would just be a loss to day shift to him. Not a loss to him personally. That he wouldn’t miss you apparently.

You - You guys would be fine 

R - I’d miss you. I’ll miss you this week

You smile at him saying he’d miss you and that he’s going to this week. But part of you struggles to believe him after the bar.

You - Would you? Will you? 

He can’t believe you’re even asking that. And because it’s a text he can’t hear in your voice whether those two questions are serious or teasing. It hurts him to think that they might be serious. 

R - Of course 

You - Well I really doubt I’ll end up switching. So you’ll only have to miss me for a week 

R - Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

You are so confused by this man. It’s ‘maybe’ and ‘a loss to day shift’ but then it’s also he’ll miss you and his heart will grow fonder. But it was a good line. And between him telling you he’ll miss you unprompted and that being away from you for almost a week will deepen his feelings for you, you’re starting to feel back to your usual self and, while the change has been subconscious mostly, you go back to texting him like your usual self. 

But before you can reply Robby sends another message. It terrifies him. He’s not sure how he even worked himself up to asking you. He just needs to know. Needs to know if the two of you are really okay. 

R - Will you miss me at all?

It’s an incredibly vulnerable ask. You know it. He knows it. He knows you know it. He needs a very ‘you’ answer to it. So you give him one.

You - 🙂‍↕️

R - Good

You - Did you have to google what that emoji meant? (P.S. You should have added girl after good)

Robby laughs to himself and shakes his head at you. This feels better. Normal. Like you. 

R - Did you just call me old? (P.S. Stop it)

You smile to yourself. You know he means the stop it playfully. He’d have said way more if he actually wanted you to stop.

You - 😶🤐 You - Did you change the font size on your phone?

R - I’ve changed my mind about missing you 

You - Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Michael

R - Go to bed, Kid R - Don’t  R - Don’t even think it

You giggle to yourself. He’s lucky he was so quick to realize and send the ‘don’t.’

You - Does it make it better if I told you it was going to be daddy and not dad?

Robby groans to himself a little. No. That’s what he wants to tell you. No, it makes it worse in a way. It has him half hard pretty quickly. 

You - I’ve been in bed this entire conversation too, so 

You know you’re getting close to Robby’s limit of this shameless of flirting and overt sexualness. You’re toeing the line. It hits just right though. It makes him harder. Fully hard. And Robby has to groan to himself a little louder this time because if you guys were together he’d work himself up to sending you a picture of his very obvious erection under his boxers, or facetime you and make you talk him through it. But you’re not together. And you’re an R3. And he can’t.

You - Wanna know what I’ve been doing? 

You wait a few seconds just to let him start to think before you hit send on the picture you took of your tv that shows you’re watching some trashy reality tv show he hates. Or pretends to hate. Because he always knows enough about the last episode to talk to you about it. Maybe he hated it before you, maybe he still does kind of hate it, but now he watches it for you. 

You - I’m sure that’s what you were thinking I was doing. Anyway. Did you make it home safely?

Robby lets out a quiet laugh. You’re so ridiculous. So perfect for him. He’s so spectacularly fucked when it comes to you. 

R - Yes and I’m going to shower. You go to sleep

You - 😏😏 You - Alright I’m stopping  You - Sleep tight and try not to miss me too much this week 

R - Sleep well, Kid

Robby throws open the door to the stairwell and walks in. He’s shaking, closer to tears than he wants to admit to himself and he is pretty sure he has never felt this much rage in his life. All of his emotions, all the grief and loss and sadness and guilt have turned into anger. 

And all because Langdon had to come back and then run his fucking mouth. He’s trying to calm down, to let go of the anger before he goes back out there and does or says something he’s going to regret because his mind is too clouded with anger. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he paces to try and burn off some of the adrenaline. 

He replays the confrontation in his head over and over. Eventually he’s struck by one thing in particular. How the fuck did Langdon even know about what happened in pedes? You were the only one who saw him-

Robby stills. It feels like another part of his world is coming crashing down around him. The only way Langdon could have known is if you’d told him. Or you’d told someone else who’d told him. If you were gossiping about him. About something so incredibly private and intimate. 

The door to the stairwell gets thrown back open and Robby walks further into the Pitt, head on a swivel looking for you. His jaw clenches when he sees you standing alone and charting. He stalks over to you.

“We need to talk.” The anger in his voice is palpable. And unlike the last time he sought you out, this time he’s not asking to speak with you. You saw him follow Langdon out so you assume it must be related and Langdon really must have done or said something.  “In here. Now.” 

He’s seething. He leads over to the supply closet and opens the door, walks in behind you, locks the door behind him. “What happened?” you ask, brows furrowed.

Robby just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to admit something. And you slowly realize his anger isn’t at Langdon or that situation or at anything else. 

It’s at you. 

He finally speaks. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

You shrink back at his words and tone. “What?”

“There are a lot of fucking people here who I would expect this shit from or not be surprised when they did it. But not you. Not fucking you,” he spits out. “How could you? How could you fucking gossip about that?” Robby tells himself the tears forming in his eyes are ones of anger and nothing else. “How could you betray me like that? I trusted you. I fucking trusted you.” His voice cracks on the second trusted.

To say you’re confused would be a massive understatement. Your stomach twists with anxiety. You don’t like any of this. You don’t like how he thinks you betrayed him or broke his trust. Because you’re not sure if your relationship could survive him truly believing that. “Michael, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The confusion written all over your face just pisses him off more. It’s like you’re trying to be the victim. “No. Don’t do this shit. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Don’t try to be the fucking victim. The very fucking least you could do at this point is own the fuck up to it.”

You are desperately trying to play your day through your head to see if you can figure out what he’s talking about, figure out what you did that apparently betrayed him and obliterated his trust. You and Dana talked during the day but you never told her anything, just expressed your concern about him and him saying and acting like he was fine. You and Jack spoke while organizing supplies, but again, you just expressed concern about him and how he’d react if something happened to Jake. You said nothing to either of them that they didn’t already know because Robby had told them. You have no idea how he could consider any of that gossiping. 

“You’re really going to make me fucking spell it out for you, hm?” He bobs his head condescendingly. 

Tears spill over your lash line and slide down your cheeks because of the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s treating you. Because you know exactly where this conversation is headed if he won’t explain to you and then listen to your response. Because he’s slowly breaking your heart. 

“You told someone, Langdon or whoever the fuck else, about what happened in pedes. About me breaking down in there and being on the floor. You just fucking blabbed that to whoever,” he scoffs, a few tears running down his cheeks. Out of anger, yes. 

But out of heartbreak too. You gossiping about this, you breaching his trust like this, shatters Robby. Because he loves you. Even if he hasn’t said it. He’s stupidly in love with you. He has been. He thought you were the one. That you were it. His end game. He pictured a proposal and a wedding and a house and maybe kids.

And then you broke his heart. 

“Okay,” you sniffle through some tears. “I know you don’t believe me but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell anyone absolutely anything about pedes. I never would-”

“Well nobody else came in and saw me so how the fuck else would Langdon know? Hm?” he snarls. “You fucking gossiped about it. Like it was this casual thing.” He shrugs at you as more tears fall down his face and he glares at you. “We’re done. Because I will never be able to trust you again. Not with anything like that, with how I feel, to see me when I’m vulnerable. And I deserve a partner I can trust with that.” His anger slips for a moment, the trembling of his chin and the way his eyes soften into hurt and grief give it away. “We waited all this fucking time, I waited all this fucking time for you and you do this before we even hit six fucking months?” You can see when the anger returns as his primary emotion in addition to hearing it. “You threw it all away! And for what. For fucking what? Please tell me. Because I don’t fucking understand.” 

You’re at a total loss. You know that it ultimately doesn’t matter what you say. Robby isn’t in a state of mind to truly hear or listen to anything you tell him and even if he was, he doesn’t want to. Not right now at least. He just broke up with you. For, as far as you can tell, nothing. Your heart is shattered just like his. You thought he was the one. You knew he was deep in your heart. He was always there when you pictured your future. 

It takes you a moment to gather a few thoughts and calm your crying down enough to coherently talk. You clear your throat and sniffle before starting.

“You very clearly aren’t interested in listening to anything I have to say, but I’m going to say a few things anyway and hope you do listen, or think about them later. I did not tell anybody anything about pedes. I would never. Even now.” You take the briefest pause, worried that if you stop for any longer he’ll cut you off and not let you say anything else. “I love you, Michael. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I never said it because it felt like you weren’t ready to hear it or say it quite yet, or I don’t know, maybe I mistook things and you didn’t, don’t love me.” You shrug. “I was so proud of you when I watched you pull yourself together in the face of multiple things, any one of which let alone all of them combined would have kept most people on the floor of that room, and go out and save lives and rally a team and support others and hold others up while you were dying inside. And I really hope one day, that for yourself, you’ll be able to learn and speak with Langdon or whoever else you need to and know that I was telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone and never would’ve. I loved you, Michael. You were amazing today. You are so much stronger than you think or give yourself credit for. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself even through all the hurt, Michael.”

“No.” Robby shakes his head. He’s too angry and hurt and grief stricken to see anything clearly or even truly process your words. He stoops so that he’s face to face with you and you’ve never seen Robby look this angry and hurt. He makes sure you’re looking at him dead in the eyes as he speaks. “No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.” 

He stands back up, unlocks and throws the door open and walks back out. Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just issue you your very own scarlet letter by telling you that you can only call him by his full name and title, a stark contrast to the intimacy of Michael and even the casualness of Robby that everyone, except for you now, gets to call him. Like he didn’t just break up with you. Like he didn’t just shatter your heart. Like you’re not even worth hearing out or having an actual conversation with or listening to. Like you’re nothing. 

Pretty fucking cruel of the world for it to end where it started. In this supply closet. 

You lock the door behind him and slide down it, give yourself a few minutes to quietly sob, thoughts racing. But you don’t want to do this here. You can’t and you won’t. You open a pack of gauze and use it to clean off your face, unlock the door and peek through it until you see a good moment and sprint to the bathroom. 

You press a cold paper towel beneath your eyes. You know it’s probably pointless but maybe it’ll help a little. You’re focusing on thinking about how to get out of here and have the least number of people see you as possible. After a few minutes you toss the towel, splash some cold water on your face and dry off. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Marginally better, you guess. 

You slip out of the bathroom and look around. You should tell someone you’re leaving. The only two you decide you’ll be able to bring yourself to talk to are Jack and Dana. You spot Jack first.

“Hey,” you greet Jack as you walk up to him. Janey has arrived and Robby’s over talking with her so the hub is free of him for now. “I’m heading out.”

Jack looks up at you. To anyone else it would seem like he didn’t react. But you know him well enough to see the slightest raise of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips turn down. You have a fake smile plastered on your face and even with the damage control you did in the bathroom, someone would have to be an idiot to look at you and not know you’d been crying. And you know Jack is far from an idiot. 

You know he knows when his eyes leave you and go to Robby and then back to you. “Okay… We’ll probably do some sort of debrief and then I’m sure some people will go to the park. Robby’s probably going to be here for a little bit yet.”

“I figured, yeah.” You nod. “Thanks Jack.” You spin and start walking away before Jack can say anything further or Robby can walk back over or even look in your direction. You don’t want to feel it. You have enough already. His glare at you, livid and disappointed and betrayed and disdained and hurt. And even though you know why he’s with her, seeing him with his ex is hard. Especially when you realize you’re now just another ex for him to be seen with too. 

You wonder if they’ll bond over their fear for Jake before they knew he was okay and get back together as you walk to your locker. You grab your backpack and take the back way out to limit the chances of anyone seeing you and manage to hit the street without encountering anyone else.

You have a few things of Robby’s in your locker that you’ll have to figure out how to return to him. More things at your place. You’re going to have to go home and still see him. Have his presence there. Thinking about it makes tears sting at your eyes. But you refuse to break down until you get home, you won’t do it even out here. You need to be home before you break down. About any of it. Robby or the mass casualty incident you just went through. And it’ll mostly be about Robby. Probably 99%. You’re numb to whatever it is you saw and went through, focused on losing Robby.

And as brokenhearted and sad and hurt you are, part of you is mad. That Robby could even think you would do such a thing, much less believe it enough to accuse you of it and end your entire relationship over it without a real conversation. You know it was a bad day for him. Beyond a bad day. Probably one of the worst days of his life. But that’s not an excuse or justification for how he treated you. He didn’t even listen to you, wouldn’t even contemplate it being possible that someone else saw him and he just didn’t see. 

Part of you knows that with the day being what it was and what it became, Robby’s mind was trying to protect himself. That his mind could only see loss and grief and convinced him that you were going to leave him at the end of the day after seeing him like that in pedes. So when he saw an opportunity to control it, to set the terms of losing and grieving you, he took it and didn’t ask any questions. 

Robby does not want to gather everyone and give some kind of debriefing speech, but he knows he has to say something to everyone. Once everyone is gathered he starts talking and as he looks around the group he realizes you’re not there. He tells himself he doesn’t care but he absolutely does. Even with how much you hurt him he misses you. He wishes you were here to ground him a little. He thinks he could forgive you, especially if you had an explanation. Maybe you didn’t mean to say as much as you did to whoever. 

But as everyone walks away and goes back to whatever they were doing he slips back into anger because it’s an easier emotion to process and feel at the moment. You’re an attending now. It’s your job to be here for things like this. To stay for debriefings. No matter what might’ve happened in your personal life. 

So when he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out and sees it’s you calling him he rolls his eyes  and sends it straight to voicemail on the second ring. And he gets annoyed when you don’t leave a message and immediately call him again. This time he just lets it ring until it hits voicemail. Maybe you’ll get the hint this time, he thinks. He figures you must because you don’t leave a message again and don’t try calling him a third time or send a text. Robby gets involved in another case with Jack and one with Mel and doesn’t think much of it. An hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye.

When he walks out of one of the trauma rooms and stops at the hub the exhaustion finally slams into him full force. He’s hungry too, can feel his blood sugar dropping. His ability to regulate and deal with his emotions is going further out the window with both of those developments. Which, he presumes, is why when he sees Langdon walking towards the ambulance bay doors to leave he walks over to him quickly. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Robby glances down at his watch. “I told you to leave over two fucking hours ago!”

“Why the fuck do you care? I’m leaving now.” Langdon doesn’t stop walking. 

Robby stands there for a second watching Langdon walk away. He needs to know he was right. That it was in fact you who told Langdon. 

“Hey!” Robby yells at Langdon and walks to catch up with him. “Who fucking told you?” He knows Langdon will know what he’s talking about.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Langdon laughs dryly. “Unlike some people here I’m not going to rat out-”

Robby interrupts him by saying your name. “Was it her?”

Langdon laughs, shaking his head at Robby before he apparently realizes the question is serious. “You can’t be fucking serious.” Robby’s lack of response makes it clear he is serious. “Of course it wasn’t her! She would absolutely never spread shit about you, especially something like that. Someone else saw you in there on the floor firsthand. They’re glass fucking doors, Robby!” Langdon lets out an incredulous laugh. 

Fuck. Fuck. Robby’s heart drops into his sinking stomach and everything starts to spin, his extremities turning to ice. He knows Langdon is telling him the truth. He knows he monumentally fucked up. He just broke up with you for nothing. He just destroyed your heart for nothing. He just shattered the most precious and important and meaningful person in his life. He just imploded everything for no fucking reason. 

He just lost the best things in his life, your relationship and you, the person who kept him going. And he has nobody to blame but himself. 

He vaguely hears Langdon start to say something else to him but he’s taking a deep breath to try to get his dizziness to pass and walking back inside. Robby thinks about how he spoke to you. The words he said. How he barely let you say anything and didn’t listen to what he did let you say. He’s not sure if the two of you can recover from this. He’s not sure he deserves you giving him a second chance. If anything, he’s more sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, if he doesn’t apologize and ask for a second chance. 

His eyes skim across everyone on the floor he can see once he’s back inside. He walks by most of the rooms and doesn’t see you in with any patients. You’re not in the breakroom. Maybe the bathroom. He doesn’t want to stand around waiting though. 

The roof. You saw him go up to the roof this morning because that’s where Jack was getting some air. He’d told you he was going up there to talk with Jack. Maybe you’re up there trying to clear your head. As he gets to the elevator and presses the up button it hits Robby. You could be standing on that ledge. You could be thinking about jumping. About disappearing from his life permanently. About really and truly leaving him forever. Nothing left but a grave to visit.

The only thing that stops Robby from turning to give into the feeling and be sick in the trash can is the elevator doors opening. He slips inside and hits the button for the roof, holding the close door button down the entire way up as though it really does anything. He tries to tell himself he’s just projecting his feelings onto you and that he has no reason to think you’re on the ledge.

Robby can’t decide whether he’s relieved that you’re not on the roof. Certainly he’s relieved you’re not on the ledge but it means he still doesn’t know where you are. He stands in the middle of the roof sucking in huge breaths of air trying to come down from the panic that’s starting to consume him. It’s not really working though. It’s just turning into hyperventilating. 

“Well you’re almost in my spot,” Jack calls to Robby as he walks out onto the roof. “What is going on? She-”

“I fucked up Jack,” Robby blurts out. “I fucked up so so badly and I don’t, I don’t know if I can fix it.” He slips completely into hyperventilating at this point as it plays in his head again. Him destroying everything in that supply closet. 

“Okay you’re having a panic attack, Michael-”

“No, no I’m not, I’m not, I’m just,” he’s shaking at this point, his body and his voice, “I just lost her and I, I, I…” Robby can barely put that three word phrase together. 

“I promise you that you are having a panic attack, Michael, believe me I know.” Jack steps in front of Robby and catches his gaze. “You have to follow my breathing, okay?” Robby shakes his head for a second and squeezes his eyes closed trying to fight back tears before starting to nod. “Look at me.” Robby opens his eyes and watches Jack. He watches Jack’s exaggerated breathing and tries to follow it. By focusing so hard on following Jack’s breathing Robby’s mind stills for a few moments. “Alright, better?” Robby nods at him. “What the fuck happened?”

Robby’s quiet for a moment and turns and takes a step so that he’s not facing Jack anymore. It’s a little too much. “I broke today. During the middle of it all, after Leah.” Robby’s voice cracks on her name. “She found me crying on the fucking floor in pedes and helped me get through it and back.” Robby pauses and lets out a huffed laugh. “For this to make sense I have to tell you that Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and stealing meds. Fucking, I don’t even know what to say about that right now.” He can see Jack’s slightly surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, after everything calmed down Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay and he threw it in my face. What happened in pedes.”

“Mmmm,” Jack cringes in acknowledgment. Robby knows he knows where this is about to go. 

“She was the only one I saw see me in there. So I assumed she told fucking Langdon or someone else who then told him. That she was gossiping about it.” Robby shrugs and sniffles. “I dragged her into that fucking supply closet with me and lost it. Asked her how could she, told her I couldn’t believe her, all while she was looking at me confused which just pissed me off more in the moment. She said it wasn’t her but I wasn’t listening. I barely let her speak. And then,” Robby pauses, lips trembling hard. “And then she said she loves me and is proud of me and she ended her last sentence with Michael and all I said was that she didn’t get to call me Michael or Robby. That it was Dr. Robinavitch to her. Then I walked out. I saw Langdon just now and he told me it wasn’t her and I know he was telling the truth.” Robby takes in and lets out a big breath quickly, sniffling again and wiping some tears away. “So I broke up with her and broke her heart for nothing. And I’ve been trying to find her to apologize as if she’ll ever take me back. She shouldn’t. I know she shouldn’t but I have to try Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “I have to try.” 

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to respond to first. He runs a hand through his hair and then drops his hands to his hips. “Yeah,” he draws the word out. “That’s…” he sighs. “You guys might be able to work this out. It’s very obvious she knows you and how you think, better than you probably, and she is so fucking in love with you,” he tries to give Robby a somewhat reassuring smile, “so, I don’t know. You have to try, I agree. But she left, Robby.” Jack glances at his watch. “Two hours ago.” 

“What?” Robby whispers, turns back to face Jack. He glosses over everything Jack said to try and give him hope because he can’t take any possibility of false hope right now, as much as he knows Jack wouldn’t lie to him. 

“When you were talking to Janey. She came up to me at the hub, looking like she’d just had the conversation you described with you and said she was leaving.” Jack shrugs. “I said we’d do a debrief and some people would probably go to the park after and that you’d be here for a bit yet and she said she figured that and thanks and walked away.”

“Did you actually see her leave?” Robby doesn’t know why the thought of you leaving and being at home in your bed sobbing, or having already sobbed yourself to sleep makes it all feel worse. 

“No-” 

“So she could still be here.” Robby nods as he says it. “She could have gotten involved in a case or something and not left yet.” He starts walking back to the elevator. 

“Theoretically,” Jack agrees. “I think she probably left, Robby. You know her locker code? See if her stuff is there.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Robby nods as they step in the elevator. “That’s good, that’s a good idea.” He’s praying that your stuff will still be there. That you’re not at home alone crying over him and how he treated you and the end of your relationship. Because he doesn’t want that. He’s not sure anymore if that’s really what he wanted when he was so sure you gossiped about it. 

As soon as he’s off the elevator Robby’s speed walking to the lockers, Jack following behind at a more normal pace. Robby hears Jack stop a few feet behind him as he opens your locker. Your stuff is gone. You’re gone. At home alone. Just like he didn’t want. 

“Michael,” you pant as his lips move down your neck and to your collarbone where he sucks a bruise into your skin making you moan softly again. “We should stop, you, you should go home and get some sleep before work.” The hand in his hair tugs at it to get him to look at you. 

It’s the night of your first date. After dinner you guys came back to your place. It started with just sitting and chatting on the couch, having another drink. Then you started kissing as you talked. Then you were kissing more than you were talking. Then you straddled him. And now he’s laying on top of you on your couch, bracing himself with his arms to not put too much of his weight on you. You have to have been making out like this for the better part of an hour. You’ve both been shamelessly grinding into each other, pulling little sounds you’ve always wanted to hear from the other. Robby’s painfully hard. Your underwear has to be soaked through or close to it. 

“What?” Robby’s already halfway gone, mind hazy with thoughts of you. It takes a second for what you said to process. “What? No first date sex for me?” he pants softly. You know he’s teasing you, that he truly didn’t come here with any expectations and he would absolutely never pressure you. 

“Nope.” You smile at him as you pop the ‘p.’

Robby groans a little at you as he moves off of you to sit normally on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. “Why not?” He pushes his bottom lip out at you a little as you climb into his lap. “That hardly seems fair.”

You give his bottom lip a quick nip before kissing it. “Because I care about you and this. Us.” 

“But if there’s already an us…” he trails off with a raise of his brows at you. “And we’ve been basically dating for four years.” You snort a laugh and give him a look. “Okay, we’ve been close friends with feelings for each other for four years. That should count for something right?” He lets one hand rest at your hip and the other in your lap. 

“In a way, yes, of course it does.” You run your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a little just to see the way his eyes flutter closed. “I still need to keep you interested though. Make sure you have a reason to ask me out again and keep me around.”

Robby scoffs as he opens his eyes. He gives you a look. “Kid, you really think that after pining for you and dreaming about you for four fucking years that I’m going to finally get inside of you and then just decide I’m romantically done with you?”

You shiver at his words and the thought of him inside of you. “Maybe I won’t be good in bed or you won’t feel a spark or it’ll be flat.”

Robby lets out a breath as he takes your face in his hands. “I can pretty much guarantee you none of that will be the case.  Having sex with you is just going to make me more obsessed with you, Kid.”

You nod, give him a small smile and lean into one of his hands. “Maybe I just like torturing you.” A slow smirk pulls onto your face. “You made me wait four years. And yes I understand and respect and appreciate why. But I still think it means you can take me on a date for every year you made me wait, and then maybe I’ll let you put your cock inside of me, Michael.”

He groans, dropping his hands back to your hip and lap where they were. “So breakfast, lunch and dinner dates tomorrow?” 

You giggle at him, lean in and give him a kiss. You love knowing how desperate he is. It makes you feel good. But while you and Robby have known each other and been dancing around this for four years, that’s almost what makes you feel like the sex is going to be more meaningful and like for some reason you should wait just a couple of dates. Because you could fall in love with Robby. Because you know you already are starting to fall in love with him. That you have been since you met him. 

“No.” You shake your head at him. “But that was a great try.”

“Can I at least do four days in a row?” he whines. 

You hum in fake thought for a few seconds. “I’ll allow that.”

“Good.” Robby leans in and kisses you again, deepens it when you open your mouth a little for him when his tongue presses at your lips. He’ll never get enough of this. Enough of you. He pulls away just a little before you’re both desperate for air and rests his forehead against yours. “I’m going to make you break before the fourth date.” 

You chuckle. “Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael.” You pull your forehead from his and give him an almost sympathetic look. “You should know better than to challenge me by now. Because now that you’ve said it, I absolutely won’t let you break me.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs the word, “I was trying so hard to be hot and sexy for you I forgot how incredibly stubborn you are.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “You know you don’t have to try, Michael. You just are hot and sexy.” 

He just hums at you and squeezes your hip and thigh. “Come on, I’ll go. We both do need to sleep before work.” You sigh a little about it as you get off his lap and stand up. You don’t really want him to leave but you know it’s better to do it this way. “I’m gonna use your bathroom before I leave.” Robby kisses the top of your head as he passes you. 

You get a thought and slip to your kitchen while Robby’s in your bathroom, quickly getting your bottoms off. You make sure your underwear adequately reflects how turned on and wet you got just from making out with him and then them off and get your bottoms back on. You tuck the underwear in the back of your waistband and pull your shirt down over them. 

You wait for Robby on the armrest of your couch, smiling at him when he reappears. The two of you walk to your door together. “I had a really great time tonight, Michael.” You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. 

“So did I, Kid. The best time.” Robby’s hands find your waist again, just holding you gently. “Will you go on a second date with me?” he asks like you don’t both already know the answer. 

“You know it.” Your smile somehow widens a little more and you have to fight to get it off your face so that Robby can kiss you when he starts leaning down and in. Neither of you are surprised or mad when the kiss turns into making out for a couple of minutes in front of your door. 

You break apart naturally when you need air and you let your forehead fall to rest on Robby’s chest. After a second you pull back. 

“Here.” You grab your underwear from your waistband. You let them dangle off your finger for a second to make sure Robby knows exactly what they are. “To get you through the night and proof you don’t need to try to be hot and sexy.” You smirk at him as you shove them in his pocket. “Took them off while you were in the bathroom. You can feel they’re still warm. And maybe if you’re good you’ll get a pair at the end of each date.”

Robby swallows hard, breathing picking up a little just at the beginnings of thoughts of what he could do with them at home and how you’ll know he’s doing something with them and how you want him to. He presses his palm against his pocket. They’re still warm like you said. A blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He has to close his eyes for a second as he tries to regulate a bit. “You’re gonna kill me, Kid,” Robby breathes out. 

“I’m a doctor, remember? I would never let that happen.” You and Robby exchange soft laughs as he opens the door. “Text me when you get home safely please. Or on your way home.” You grin at him. 

“I will.” Robby nods at you. You lean up and give him a soft and lingering kiss. It’s simple, but the perfect way to end the night. 

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“Have a good night, Kid.”

There’s very little thought to it. Robby just follows the instinct that tells him to run after you. Doesn’t grab his backpack. Doesn’t say another word to Jack. He just turns and runs. 

Robby knows that you’ll be at your place. That you won’t have gone to a bar or something. You’ll just want to be alone. He hates himself for it, hates the thought, can picture you curled up alone and crying or sniffling heavily in your sleep because you finally cried yourself out. 

He books it to your place, comes close to being hit once or twice when making a few unwise crossing decisions. He’s panting hard by the time he gets to your building and fumbles with his key to get in the main door, taking the stairs two at a time as he hauls ass up to the third floor. He’s running on sheer adrenaline. 

He doesn’t take a moment to collect himself when he gets to your door, just starts knocking. When you don’t answer he uses his key to let himself in. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should respect you not wanting to see him and wanting to be alone right now, but he needs to see you and apologize and make everything okay again. 

But your apartment is dark when he steps in. Hot. Like the AC has been off because you’ve been at his the past week. You’d have turned the AC on if you were here. He checks anyway though. But you’re not there. Not in your bed or the shower or on your couch. And so Robby’s left a sweaty and panting mess as he closes your bedroom door and leans back against it. 

He tries to take a moment to calm down, get his breath back, some focus back so he can think about where else you might be. But he can’t. 

Instead, Robby slides down your bedroom door, bringing his knees to his chest and starting to cry again. Just like he did in pedes. It’s more sobbing this time, especially because of how hard it is to breathe, how out of breath he was before he started crying. Some of his tears are for the loss, Adamson and Leah, for his guilt at giving Jake his other ticket and thoughts that it should have been him to get shot and not Leah, for the damage to his relationship with Jake, for Langdon, for breaking down in the middle of an MCI and letting his team down. 

But most of them are for you. The loss of you. The way he’s already grieving you while praying and hoping and wishing that he’ll be able to stop, that you’ll take him back and so he won’t have to keep grieving the loss of you in his life. For accusing you of something horrible like that. For yelling at you. For the way he snapped at you all day. The way that, although you were quick to shut it down most times, he took out a lot of his emotions on you over the entire day. Took out his emotions on you who was only ever there for him whenever he needed it. Who kept him together and in check. Who saw only the best in him and stayed. Who saw the worst in him and stayed. Who was proud of him. Who he needs to survive this. And for the way, he realized on his run over as he replayed the scene in the supply closet over in his mind, your tense changed. You love him to you loved him. Love to loved. An audible breaking of your heart.  

Robby looks over at your kitchen. Maybe it would just be better for you and Jake and everybody if he just disappeared. If he just ceased to exist. He told you he wouldn’t. He promised you he wouldn’t. But maybe you want him to now. He’s tired of feeling. Of hurting. Without you he doesn’t really have anyone. Jake hates him. Jack and Dana will be fine without him. You have sharp enough knives. He knows exactly where to cut.

His phone ringing pulls him out of it for a second. He sniffles and clears his throat as he moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He knows it’s not you because you’d given yourself a special ringtone and it’s not the one playing.

It’s Jack. If you’re there at the hospital still with Jack then he won’t. He’ll keep his promise and run back. Apologize. Beg. Grovel. Anything. Everything. 

“Did you hear from her?” There’s no greeting. Robby’s straight to the question. 

“Robby, she’s here.” Jack’s voice is strained. He sounds exhausted, but more emotionally than anything. He sounds pained. Like speaking these words is physically and emotionally hurting him. He didn’t sound like that when Robby left. But Robby brushes it all aside.

“Oh fuck, okay thank you.” Robby lets out a sigh of relief and wipes at his face. He sniffles again and lets out a little laugh. Because at least he knows where you are. “Keep her there Jack, please. I don’t care how you do it, lock her in a room or use restraints, just keep her there. I need to talk to her. I need-”

“No, not like that,” Jack tells him, voice clipped, still strained. “Like-” Jack gets interrupted. Robby can hear what sounds like a door opening, muffled movement and beeping of monitors. He can just make out a female voice tell Jack ‘she’s seizing again.’ Jack’s voice is muffled like he’s holding the phone away from him but Robby can hear him say ‘yes’ to what sounded like the shout of a medication order, followed by Jack yelling ‘and where the fuck is neuro?’ 

“Fuck. You need to get here, Michael.” Jack rushes it out but Robby recognizes Jack’s tone clear as day because he’s used it so many times himself. 

It’s the tone they use when stressing to family members that they need to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible because a loved one is about to die. 

Tears start to stream down Robby’s face again because he knows. Robby knows exactly what Jack means when he repeats it. “She’s here.”

I know. 😶🥲😶‍🌫️😭

I've affectionately called this Robby's No Man's Land. It was named the same way too. Obviously there will be a Part 2 unless nobody wants one. 😂 I PROMISE that what happened in NML Part 2 will not be repeated in the Part 2 to this.

I hope it was okay and that you were able to enjoy! Again, I really love hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me serotonin and motivation and inspiration!! Liking, replies and reblogging are always so so appreciated! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming (or (lovingly) screaming at me I suppose)! 🙂

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[kja06]

Sugar daddy Robby & just the tip make ovulation brain go 😵‍💫

sugar daddy! robby bribing you with twice the usual amount if you just let him put the tip into your ass

he promises nothing more than the tip or a finger but we all know he’s gonna break that promise immediately

Babe look at this @pxpecxdy 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

He’s so sweet and INTOXICATING when he slowly pushes and pulls the tip out because he doesn’t wanna hurt you and doesn’t wanna go all the way in, right? Absolutely fucking not. He wants to see you all teary-eyed and begging him for more (or to scream stop but you both know that just spurs the two of you on more tehe)

[kja06]

Two more parts of Single Dad!Robby

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65045986

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65194132

I hope you enjoy both parts. You can really read these in any order you want since I do make sure to say how old Dina is in each part.

[kja06]

old men 🫶🏼

[kja06]

Oh I’m gonna eat this up.

Holding you, Holding me | M. Robinavitch

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Dana’s adopted daughter

summary: your parents’ wedding anniversary brings you and your mom’s friend closer to each other, closer than it should be, but there is no harm if no one finds out, right?

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut SMUT (I’m telling you ITS SMUTTY OKAY you can clearly see it from the moodboard lmao), AGE GAP (Robby is 50 reader is 27), ANGST YES WE GOTTA CRY, each chapter will have its own individual warnings<3

about reader: cis-fem, 26 years old, Dana’s oldest daughter(adopted), shorter than Robby, soft spoken and anxious, she has hair long enough to be put up, she works in a rehabilitation clinic (just to give her a job and I’m projecting lmao. Could be OT or PT!), she is written as neutral as possible.

A/n: okay HI so I came up with this pairing and I told @superhoeva about it and I’m so thankful for her cause she really inspired and supported this series🥹💕 and shout out to my babe @pxpecxdy for giving me her opinion on this story I fucking love you😩🫂anyway YES she is adopted, she is written as neutral as possible, and Robby deserves a younger gf with a high libido so🤭

If you wanna be tagged in the upcoming chapters, fill this form<3

The chapters are based on song titles;)

Masterlist⬎

Chapter 1: i can see you (coming soon!)

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

Chapter 7:

Chapter 8:

Chapter 9:

Chapter 10:

[kja06]

Soft baby daddy Joel? Favorite thing in the world.

hi! okay can I please request a fluffy funny Joel x reader where the reader goes into labour a little early and Joel just goes into like full dad panic mode, maybe he’s out on patrol and gets called back early and is freaking out but also trying to keep her calm?? 🥰 <333

Ours

Pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: married couple, joel panicking but being a supportive husband, birth (but not detailed), joel will always be a girl dad, fluff

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Thank you for the request. Yes, I did imagine Joel running around like a Dad in the Sims in panic mode. LOL.

“I’m fine, Joel. It’s just Braxton Hicks,” you said, waving him off as you carefully lowered yourself onto the couch, one hand on your belly. “Practice contractions. Not the real deal.”

Joel let out a heavy grunt, dragging a calloused hand down his face like it might wipe away the worry. “Darlin’, I—”

“Go,” you cut in with a small grin. “You’ve got a patrol to run. I promise, I’ll still be pregnant when you get back.”

He didn’t move right away. Just stood there, hovering like a man deciding whether to disarm a bomb or kiss it goodbye. Finally, with a sigh that sounded like it came from his boots, Joel jerked his chin toward the radio on the table.

“Fine. But you get Maria, or Ellie, or hell — the mailman, I don’t care — to radio me or Tommy if anything changes. Got it?” 

You gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

Joel’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile but was too stubborn to let it happen. He grabbed his coat, muttering under his breath as he kissed you, then stepped outside.

At the stables, Tommy was already saddling his horse. He looked up, taking one glance at Joel’s stormy face and snorted.

“You look like you swallowed a damn hornet,” Tommy teased, slapping his brother on the back.

Joel grunted. “My wife might go into labor.”

Tommy’s smirk widened. “And you’re still here jawin’ with me? Shit, Joel — she’ll be fine. Maria was in labor with Benji for what, sixteen hours? And half that time she was yellin’ at me to stop breathin’ so loud.”

Joel grimaced at the memory. “Yeah, well, you breathe loud.”

Tommy chuckled, mounting up. “Point is. First babies take their sweet time. You’ll be back long before anythin’ happens. Unless that kid takes after you, in which case you better pray she don’t come out already cussin’.”

Joel rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just get this over with.”

After a couple of hours on patrol, Joel swung down from his horse with a grunt, rolling his shoulder like the saddle itself had been conspiring against him. The early evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke from town. Tommy was about to follow suit, already mid-yawn, when the static crackle of the walkie-talkie snapped both of them to attention.

Joel didn’t wait. He was halfway to Tommy before the man could even reach for it, snatching the radio out of his hand like a man grabbing a lifeline.

“What is it?” Joel barked, his voice sharp and rough around the edges.

Maria’s voice came through, steady but urgent. “Joel, you gotta get back. It’s happening.”

Joel’s stomach dropped to his boots. “Shit! I thought I had time!” he growled, whipping a look at Tommy like this was somehow his fault.

“I thought you did!” Tommy shot back, hands up. “You’re the one who said it was those practice thingies!”

“Her water already broke. You better hurry.” Maria’s voice cut back in, no room for argument.

“Goddammit,” Joel muttered, already fumbling with his horse’s reins. His hands weren’t even steady, cursing under his breath as he clumsily mounted up.

Tommy chuckled, climbing onto his horse with considerably less panic. “Boy, you are rattled. You’re actin’ like the kid’s gonna just fall out before you get there.”

Joel shot him a glare sharp enough to cut fence wire. “If you don’t quit runnin’ your mouth and start movin’ that horse, I swear to God—”

“I’m movin’, I’m movin’,” Tommy snickered, giving his horse a nudge. “Damn, it’s like watchin’ a bear get flustered. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Joel didn’t answer — just kicked his horse into a gallop, the pounding of hooves drowning out the last of Tommy’s teasing.

Somehow, and Joel would never be able to tell you how. He and Tommy made it back to Jackson in record time. Joel didn’t bother with the stable, barely yanking the reins to a stop before vaulting off his horse and bolting for the house like the damn place was on fire.

He took the front steps two at a time, nearly busting down the door in his rush. “Darlin’?!” he hollered, already barreling up the stairs.

The bedroom door was half-open, and the sight inside made his stomach twist into a knot. You were leaning over the bed, hands gripping the mattress, hair plastered to your damp face as you panted through a contraction.

“Christ almighty,” Joel muttered, going pale as a sheet. “Sweetheart—sit down, you shouldn’t be—damn it, let me—”

You shook your head fiercely without even looking up, a low groan escaping.

“She wanted to stand,” came a calm, no-nonsense voice from the bathroom doorway. Susan, the midwife, appeared with Maria right behind her, sleeves rolled up and a towel slung over one shoulder.

Joel blinked, pointing uselessly. “But—but she’s—”

“It can help the baby move down,” Susan said evenly, stepping closer like she was dealing with a particularly large, panicking animal. “Gravity’s your friend right now, Joel.”

“Gravity can kiss my ass,” Joel grumbled, moving to your side and immediately fussing, swiping sweaty hair from your face. “You wanna sit, honey? Or lie down? Or—hell, you want me to carry you to the tub? I’ll carry you.”

“I’m not sitting,” you managed between breaths, shooting him a look. “I stand if I wanna stand.”

Joel gave a weak, breathless laugh, still looking like he might pass out. “Bossy even in labor. Yep, that’s my girl.”

Maria snorted from the corner. “Wait ‘til the real fun starts.”

“Don’t start, Maria,” Joel snapped, though it lacked any real bite. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand trembling just a little against your cheek. “You’re doin’ so good, darlin’. So damn good. I’m right here. Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Good,” you huffed. “If you even think about leaving, I’ll murder you. Slowly.”

Joel let out a nervous chuckle and threw a glance at Susan. “Is murderin’ your husband mid-labor normal?”

“Happens more than you’d think,” Susan deadpanned, grabbing a towel and gesturing toward the bathroom. “Alright, big guy. Help her to the tub, and try not to pass out. I don’t have time to catch you.”

Tommy’s voice called faintly from downstairs. “If he faints, I’m takin’ his boots.”

Joel grumbled under his breath, wrapping an arm around you. “Over my dead body, asshole.”

You managed a smirk through the contraction. “Can’t have you dying. You’re holding me up.”

With that, Joel helped you toward the bathroom, still half-panicked, but never leaving your side.

The bathroom was already warm, the big tub half-filled with steaming water, and the scent of something herbal hanging in the air. Joel wasn’t sure. He was too busy half-carrying you toward it, his heart pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears.

“You sure you wanna do this in the tub?” he asked, breathless as he eased you down to sit on the edge. “I mean…we got a perfectly good bed. And couches. I can grab some pillows. Hell, I’ll build you a nest right here on the floor if you want.”

You gave him a flat, exhausted look. “Tub. Now.”

“Right. Tub. Got it.”

Susan appeared at his elbow, gently guiding you into the water while Joel hovered like a man who wasn’t sure if he should help or leave or just pass out quietly in the corner. The second you settled into the water with a soft sigh, Joel knelt beside the tub, clutching your hand like you might float away if he let go.

“Alright,” he said, nodding to himself like a coach about to call a play. “Okay, so, uh…breathe.”

“I am breathing, Joel.”

“Right, right. Good. Good job, baby. Keep doin’ that.”

Susan smothered a grin as she checked the water temperature. Joel didn’t notice, too busy offering increasingly unhelpful advice.

“Maybe, uh—hold my hand tighter if it hurts? Or, I dunno, scream if you need to. Or cuss me out. Actually, no, maybe not that one. But you could, if you want. I’d understand.”

Another contraction hit, and you gritted your teeth, squeezing his hand. Joel’s face went pale.

“Shit—okay, yep, you’re strong. Real strong. Strongest woman I ever met. Probably could snap my fingers clean off right now, huh? That’s good. That’s real good.”

“Joel,” you panted, managing a grin through the pain, “shut up.”

“Shuttin’ up,” he nodded quickly. “Zip. Not a word.”

He stayed quiet for about five whole seconds before blurting, “You’re doin’ so good, though.”

Susan laughed outright that time. “Joel, why don’t you get her some ice chips or something?”

“I ain’t leavin’ her,” he protested, wide-eyed.

“I’ll get them,” Maria called from outside the door, clearly eavesdropping. “You’re no damn help in there anyway.”

You let out a weak, breathy chuckle. Joel scowled at the doorway like he might pick a fight with her later.

“Hey, don’t listen to her,” he muttered, brushing your damp hair back again. “I’m your number one guy, alright? I’m doin’ great.”

“You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, but I’m your mess.”

You reached for his shirt collar, tugged him down, and kissed him, even as another contraction built.

“You owe me so big for this,” you murmured.

Joel swallowed hard, squeezing your hand. “Darlin’, you can have the whole damn world when this is over.”

Outside the door, Tommy’s voice piped up again. “Startin’ with those boots.”

Joel rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Swear to God, I’m leavin’ him out in the woods after this.”

The world had gone soft around the edges.

The sharpness of the contractions faded into a blur, the voices in the room distant, like you were underwater. You barely registered Susan’s calm, practiced instructions or Maria moving somewhere nearby with towels. All you could focus on was the tiny, slippery weight being placed against your chest.

A wet, wriggling, perfect little thing — red-faced and furious, letting out a hoarse, indignant wail like she already had complaints about the world.

You let out a shaky breath. “Oh,” you whispered, the word catching in your throat.

Your hands trembled as you cradled her closer, the heat of her small body seeping into yours, her skin slick and impossibly soft. She was heavier than you expected, and yet, somehow, weightless.

Joel was right there, still kneeling by the tub, soaked with sweat and steam, his face pale and blotchy and damp. His eyes were locked on the baby, his mouth slightly open like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He looked like a man completely leveled.

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze. “She’s here,” you whispered.

Joel made a rough, broken sound in the back of his throat. Like a laugh, or a sob, or both tangled together. His hand, big and calloused and shaking, reached out and brushed the baby’s damp head, fingers trailing gently over the tiny downy hair.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice thick and unsteady. “Look at her.”

You did. She was already calming down, one little hand curled against your chest, mouth working soundlessly. Her eyelashes were delicate and dark, sticking to her cheeks.

Joel gave a watery laugh, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other still stroking the baby’s head like he couldn’t stop.

“You did it,” he murmured against your skin. “Goddamn, you did it. She’s…she’s perfect.”

You let out a soft, exhausted laugh. “She better be, after all that.”

“Hell yeah, she is,” Joel grinned, though his voice cracked. “She’s ours.”

Neither of you noticed that Susan and Maria quietly slipped out, giving you the room, and the world narrowed down to just the three of you.

You sat there in the tub, the water cooling, the room dim and quiet except for the tiny sounds your daughter made. Joel brushed his fingers against your cheek.

Joel finally spoke again, soft as a promise. “Gonna spend the rest of my life lookin’ after you both. Swear it.”

You smiled, too tired to say it out loud, but he saw it anyway.

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