storiesfromasmalltown

[storiesfromasmalltown]

YOU WERE ALWAYS ON MY MIND

or

The five times you danced with Michael Robinavitch

f!Reader x Dr. Robby

Warnings: cursing, drinking, bittersweet stuff idk, happy ending, not beta read, reader is Robby’s age, reader has hair and is shorter than him (let me know if I forgot anything!)- reader has also never gotten over anything

No use of Y/N

Best paired with Maisie Peters Elvis Song, Lucy Dacus and Hozier Bullseye, Taylor Swift Holy Ground

1.You met at a party during undergrad, he was all floppy hair and laughter back then- tall and lanky in the way college boys are before they really grow into their own. He was pre-med, you were undecided. Maybe he was the shove you needed to commit to medicine, but that didn’t matter at the time. The party was held in a sticky frat house, full of people and smoke and he fit right in, laughing loudly, playing beer pong and you were in over your head the moment you saw him. It was a cliche meet cute, your eyes met you excused yourself to your friends and made your way to the drinks table. He was cute, you were three drinks in and when he gave you that smile and said you his name is Michael but everyone calls him Robby you couldn’t help the butterflies. 

“Do you dance Michael?”

He raised an eyebrow at the name and extended his arm, long fingers reaching for yours.

“I do with pretty girls who call me by my first name.”

You felt warmth spread around your cheeks and he pulled you into the crowd and didn’t leave your side for the rest of the night. 

You spent the rest of that year studying on his sofa bed in the rented apartment just off campus, sharing chemistry notes and kisses when his roommates were away. He was perfect but you were always a bit of a flight risk and on one of the many nights you spent with his arms around your waist pulling you onto his lap as you sorted through notes you thought 

oh I am in over my head

“What’s on your mind?”

His voice shakes you out of your thoughts, a worn greatest hits Elvis record draws You were always on my mind in the back.

“Nothing hon’, I’m just tired.”

He gave you a look and you leaned to kiss his cheek while your brain screamed that this was never going to work.

2. The second time you danced was at a graduation party, you didn’t really date anyone after him, you applied to med school- even after his name started swimming in front of your eyes whenever you would close them,  but you made your choice- he gave you everything and you left, you had no right to be the hurt one here. 

“Congratulations.”

He must have had a bit to drink but so had you, you turned to face him, there was a strange shadow across his face, one that wasn’t there before you but you closed your eyes and for a second imagined a life where you didn’t walk out of his kitchen on a Sunday morning and never walked back in.

“Do you still dance with pretty girls who call you by your first name?”

He gave you a sad smile, arm reaching to fix the strap of your white dress.

“Only those that broke my heart.”

You turned to walk away but he closed his hand around your shoulder.

“I don’t want to dance with anyone but you tonight, it doesn’t have to mean anything. For old times sake?”

And you both pretended it didn’t break your heart.

“Did you get into med school?”

You felt him nod, he rested his head on top of yours for a second, it was a slow dance, friends and lovers swaying to the same fucking Elvis song again.

“Yeah, you?”

You nodded into his shoulder, a tear escaping you. He would haunt you for the rest of your life.

3. You hated fundraising galas, but you were a star pediatric resident for the Philadelphia hospital you matched into. You thought working your ass off would be enough but you guess you had to be paraded around as a show pony too. Your dress felt uncomfortable, it looked stunning but you were hyper aware of every stitch that touched your body. You held a glass of white wine in hand, it had gone warm but it felt good to hold something. The networking and chatting part of the night passed by and people were sitting and talking or swaying on the romantically lit dance floor- not that it made any sense to you why a dance floor for a fundraising gala would have romantic lighting but you assumed it softened people. You scanned the crowd for the familiar face you caught a glimpse of earlier. His shoulders looked broader, he had a few laugh lines etched into his face. His once soft clean shaven face had a neat beard on it and his floppy hair was cropped shorter, but it was him, you couldn’t forget those eyes if you tried. You saw him when he entered, a man with short curls came in with him, they were deep in conversation and you slipped out for air, because the what-if’s didn’t rest. You couldn’t leave while the chatting up was happening and now you really itched to get away but your friend was flirting with a woman at the bar and you had come in together. 

“You always looked good in black.”

He materialised by your side, hands in the pockets of his slacks, doing that thing where he tries to make his impossibly tall body shrink.

“Thank you Michael.”

He offered a smile and you offered a compliment in return.

“You should stand up straighter, your posture is fucked.”

“Well that's what the ED will do to you-”

“You specialised in emergency medicine?”

He nodded his head, shy and proud, blushing again at the way you looked at him with eyes full of pride. Like he forgot you broke his heart into a million pieces.

“You?”

“I’m in pedes.”

“Do you want to dance doctor?”

“I would love to.”

And something cracks a bit more on that dance floor, he moves you around it and the small talk feels like its mapping out the ocean wide divide between who you used to be and who you are now. The dance ends and you kiss his cheek and leave without saying anything else, picking up pace- your friend finds you crying in the bathroom and you tell her how much you missed him every day for the past 8 years and she doesn’t understand why you can’t go back.

4.  You’re at a wedding, not yours- even your mother gave up on that once your turned 45, but the first one since you moved to Pittsburgh. You check your phone wondering if it is too early to leave, maybe you can take up a shift at the hospital, get into the groove a bit more. The pediatrics attending position you got an offer from the board of the PTMC was too good to refuse, until you attended a meeting and found yourself sitting across from a familiar face. 

He came in late, black scrub top, navy blue hoodie, salt and pepper beard and a face that felt like a map of moments you had missed. He looked tired, depleted- like he carried the world on his shoulders.

“This is our new attending for the pediatrics department-”

The administration woman- Gloria, started to introduce you but you zoned out, she didn’t motion for you to stand up and just kept going through what you assumed was her usual repertoire. You busied yourself by writing notes on the legal pad in front of you because if you looked up and saw him there- Dr. Robinavitch, chief attending of the ED, tall and confident and still so warm with the same eyes that used to melt you in your spot.

You heard the chair next to you move and you knew who it was this time, you had stopped trying to fight it.

“Nice to see you have a social life.”

You snorted in your drink.

“Look who’s talking.”

He laughed before replying-

“Well I think I’m still better than Abbot.”

You met Dr. Abbot on a consult and you caught a healthier coping mechanism than whatever Robby had going on.

“One of you goes to therapy and it’s not you.”

“I actually came by to ask you for a dance not for a mental health check.”

You felt brave, for the first time in a long time, like someone who won’t burn it all down out of fear, like a woman who has too many lonely years behind her. So you reached out your hand, steadier and more confident than it was at 20.

“I would love  to dance with you Michael.”

You were on the dancefloor for a while when he whispered in your ear during a slow dance.

“I always liked dancing with pretty girls who call me by my first name.”

“Pretty girl is a bit of a stretch for one who is over 50.”

He pulled away to study your face, the only one he had ever  memorised that way.

“I meant beautiful woman, but I never forgot the pretty girl.”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t run.”

“Don’t interrupt me- I’m sorry I ever did run.”

And that was all you had to say.

5. You were on the fence about getting married at your age, but you found you couldn’t tell him no, not when he had asked nicely in your kitchen. The one you shared in the house you shared, the place you did laundry together, cooked meals, where your shoes mixed by the door, where people came in for a glass of wine after a long day, the garden you had barbecues in, the place you played that same 30 year old Elvis record. 

“Well good morning Dr Robinavitch.”

You laughed at him, voice strained by the morning, hands around your waist, he was fully wrapped around you.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“You know we didn’t dance yesterday-”

“We were in a courthouse.”

“Yeah but I think that I would really love to dance with my wife.”

So you let him spin you around like he had so many times, but instead of mapping the places you missed it was circling the life you finally got to live. Smoothening the cracks you weren’t there to mend the first time.

[storiesfromasmalltown]

Jack Abbot x resident!reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, medical inaccuracies, not beta read, me coming back from the dead, attempts at humor, age gap (reader is in late 20s/ early 30s)

Word count: 2500+ (oh well)

COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY OR when your best friend ends up in the ER after her Cowboy themed bachelorette party with a broken leg and a mouth that just keeps talking you might be in over your head.

You were going to kill her, after they stick her leg in a cast and once she sobered up you were going to kill her. Taking the weekend off in order to go to your best friends bachelorette was planned weeks in advance, the cowgirl theme was coordinated from outfits to drinks, you spent months on the whole thing, being the maid of honour and all- you hand glued BRIDE in gemstones to her white cowboy hat, hell you had hand-sewn the veil to the hat. You planned the whole fucking thing while being a year 3 resident (you survived a few months on good will and fumes for it) and frankly you were looking forward to a night away from your work and the giant obvious crush you had on one of the attendings you were planning on getting over by finding a bison for the night.

And yet there you were getting Becca and her fucked leg into the PTMC, two purses on your scantly clad shoulder and one of her white boots under your armpit- you had remembered to text Ellis on the way to let her know you were coming, no sense in letting the drunk babbling bride wait- you just wished she’d stop asking if she was finally going to see your sexy doctor.

You also regretted ever having spilled about Abbot. The night was perfect for stories of old flames, sex lives and your miserable thing for the hot night shift attending and now you might have to plan a move to Mexico the way she was going. You stopped after two cocktails, knowing the bride was injury prone, Becca told you she planned on getting smashed for her bachelorette the moment Jules proposed and who were you to stop her. You were regretting it now as you took her into the ER waiting room. 

“Bet you he’ll love the outfit.”

“Beck, please shut up about that, please? I need to be able to show my face at work again.”

“Oh you’re showing a lot more than your face today babe.”

“Yes I know my tits are out I didn’t exactly plan on showing up at my place of work tonight.”

She just giggled and tapped the pink hat on your head. Great. 

She had jokes for someone in her place, you were happy to know that alcohol and adrenaline still had a grip on her. You got her seated in the waiting room and went up to fill out her paperwork when a whistle cut you off- Shen, of course he’d be the first person to find you. He gave you an amused once over, leaning his weight on a wheelchair he had with him.

“Well, well good evening or do you prefer ye-haw?” 

“Howdy actually.”

You tipped your hat for added effect, might as well commit to the bit.

“-and since you’ve got jokes you might want to keep them for the cowboy in chief herself.”

He followed your line of sight where Becca was holding her immobilised leg.

“I’m assuming that’s my fracture? Was the rodeo that rowdy?”

“Still is.”

“You coming with?”

“I’ll come after you after I write her insurance info- don’t listen to a word she says and don’t light any matches near her.”

“How come you’re still standing?”

“I’ve known her since college and if there’s someone you keep an eye on it’s Beck.”

He gave a smile before pushing on with the wheelchair in his arms to Becca, who opened with the brilliant opening that may as well have been your gravestone-

“You’re not the hot doctor.”

The laughter he let out startled an older woman who looked like she was about to fall asleep on the plastic chair.

“I’m Doctor Shen, I’m also slightly offended but you can tell me more about this hot doctor of yours while I have a look at that leg.”

For fucks sake.

“It’s not my hot doctor, it’s hers, but it’s a secret!”

A big secret given her pointing towards you.

“Oh is it?”

If Shen knew the whole hospital would know by tomorrow. Maybe you can practice medicine somewhere nice and far-like North Korea.

“Good job on keeping it Beck, the yelling helps.”

“Don’t hold back on the details Cowboy Bride, please keep talking for as long as you’d like- it helps with the pain.”

The maniacal laugh she let out told you you were as fucked as you thought you might be. You thanked the nurse at the check in desk and went back to grab the purses and hopefully pass unseen to your locker to leave Becca's boots and salvage a bit of dignity before your peers and their insufferably handsome attending. 

You were perfectly normal about him the first time you met, you would swear on it and even if you weren't you didn’t know a single person who didn’t stare at his arms the first time they saw him.

It was all fine and almost fun and then one hand held scalpel assistance with whispered praise lead to what you hoped was flirting and then those shoulders showed up uninvited to a wet dream and you found yourself truly and deeply fucked. The worst part was it wasn’t even just a sex thing, he made you laugh, he made you feel safe. You shared whispers and quiet drinks after long shifts, you’ve been handed as many coffees before a long night as you have beers after a long day. You’ve tag teamed shit cases, you’ve joined in on bets, you had inside jokes, hell he gave you butterflies you didn’t know you could still get. It’s one sided- you remind your self, it would be inappropriate that didn’t stop Collins and Robby your brain cheats but she probably didn’t barge in with a drunk friend objectifying him in tiny shorts and a bright pink push up bra poking from underneath her white shirt. 

 You were so focused on immobilising her and getting her in shape to get to the hospital comfortable that you didn’t think to grab your jacket from the table to cover up a bit of your pride and you vividly remembered packing up most of the spares from your locker to give them a wash over the weekend. The familiar chill of the ER enveloped you and you were all too aware of the tiny denim cut offs and the bra baring button up tied at your waist. When you planned the outfit you were hoping for a ‘forget about him’ hookup and a night of good riding jokes and before the leg disaster it gave you a good confidence boost- you looked good, hell you looked fantastic and you felt like an idiot. Your hand shot up to take the hat off before making a run to the lockers but Ellis caught a glimpse of you as you did and her face split in a shit eating grin.

“Now, that’s a look-”

“We’ve seen less clothed people come in-”

“Not doctors.”

“I’m off the clock”

“Or off the cock?”

“This Cowgirl didn’t get to do any riding seeing as the rodeo was closed due to injury.”

“How did that happen?”

“She’s really into Sabrina Carpenter and a clumsy drunk.”

The face you got out of her told you all you needed to know, while your shifts now rarely overlapped you became good friends during your residency but Ellis had the face of a shark on her as she opened her mouth to speak:

“Our good attending Doctor Abbot is actually with your Bride, they’re in Trauma 2 if you want to go hold your friends hand and help with her medical history before she goes for an x-ray. Oh she is quite the talker”

“Wasn’t Shen with her?”

“Oh he was but he called in Abbot so he could go check up on his other patients-”

There was that shark smile again.

“I’ll kill him.”

You felt a blush creeping from your chest as you turned to walk but before you knew it she was right by your side 

“-let me walk you actually, wouldn’t want to miss his face-”

“I think I can find my way to it just fine, just get me a shovel to dig my grave once I’m back.”

“You’re telling me I have to miss seeing you give Rabbit a heart attack?”

“You have to miss my last moments in the pitt before one of the attendings finds out from my very drunk friend a lot of crap that no one is supposed to know about.”

She turned back to her chart, still smiling before saying one last thing

“- don’t tell that to the all the money we all have in the betting pool”

“Oh fuck me.”

“He might!”

You left with a middle finger in the air and your cowboy hat by her chart. Running a hand over the ponytails you attempted before the party you made your way to the room Becca was in- the motion gave you a sense of comfort. You had never felt more awkward in the ER in your life, you had gotten puked and pissed on here, you had said stupid stuff, you had blushed from head to toe the first time Abbot whispered good job to you, you had gossiped and placed bets here and you were dragging your pink boot clad feet because who the fuck knew what Becca had already told him. Sighing you pressed the button to enter the room.

“Any allergies?”

He asked, not turning around from her.

“Oh I thought you left! You didn’t tell me he was this nice!”

If you weren’t in it you’d think it was funny, your cool, calm, collected, attending turned towards you and his eyebrows met that gorgeous hairline at the same time his lips turned into a smirk.

"Well Howdy there."

"Hello Doctor Abbot."

You forced out as confidently as you could trying not to curl into yourself.

“Where’s the rest of your shirt?”

“Lost it at the rodeo?”

“Ah.”

Eloquent Doctor Abbot

“She hasn’t got any allergies, she’s full of tequila and you can’t trust a word she says- when’s she in line for an x-ray?”

“As soon as I can decipher who the hot doctor she keeps asking about is.”

Becka gave you an innocent smile and you made a list of places no one would find her body.

“You uh-do that and I’ll call Jules, her fiancée.”

“Oh I think we’re close to roping the answer Cowgirl.”

You nodded awkwardly and tried not to notice the way his eyes that usually looked straight into yours lingered on the exposed torso and the delicate skin of your collarbones. 

______________________________________________________________

“Last rodeo or last ride?”

Asked one of your friends while you were at the bar waiting for more drinks.

“Last rodeo, I think, I hope she’ll still get to ride.”

You shared a laugh, leaning on the bar.

“The blond in the corner has been checking you out.”

“Not my type.”

“What is your type?”

She asked as you made your way back through the bodies surrounding you.

“You’ll judge-”

“Are you still into old guys?”

“I thought you had a good relationship with your father?”

Cut in a third friend getting Becca’s attention.

“Is this about the hot guy that works with you?”

“Are you having  a sexy Grey’s style affair in the hospital?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“But he is a father figure by what I’ve heard-”

“Gross Beck.”

“Oh do tell?”

You took a drink of your pornstar martini in an attempt to hide your blush as Becca recounted your descriptions of Jack, well Doctor Abbot, you rarely called him Jack. Only in those strange quiet moments when you felt like there might be something there, sharing a drink after a long shift, sitting leg to leg.

“Salt and pepper curls, giant bulging biceps, ex- military and ticks her competence kink- from what I’ve gathered. ”

“You having a competence kink makes so much sense babe.”

You let the martini do the talking:

“Look, I saw him donate blood and work on a patient at the same time and he has hands that look like they know what they’re doing and I am not saying that he looks like he could fuck me into a wall nor that I want it but it is hard to focus some times.”

“So how much older is he?”

“Old enough to be my young father. like 15, 20 years?”

“So how big of a hand are we talking about here?”

“Big enough that you should do something about it.”

“Like risk my job by having a relationship with my boss?”

“He’s not technically your boss! Not that I wouldn’t fuck your boss if he’s ever lonely.”

You choked on your drink as the group continued laughing.

______________________________________________________________

You made your way to the too familiar vending machines to grab a tea and a snack- a headache was building behind your eyes, a combination of the tiredness and slight hangover. You let Jules know Becca was alive and on her way to an x-ray and she let you know she’ll swing by the bar to grab your stuff before coming in to take care of Becca and relieving you of your duties. God the whole hospital will know by tomorrow, maybe Gloria would fire you and then you can jump off the roof and never think about the way his eyes darkened as you opened the door again. You were so far down that rabbit hole that you didn’t hear him come up.

“She’s up for an x-ray as we speak.”

You startled a bit but nodded your head once you registered what he said before turning to face him. He looked good, he always looked good when he had on that bemused smile and held your stare.

“I wanted to apologise for whatever she said if you’re uncomfortable-”

You started babbling, words falling from your mouth in a river of apologies and excuses as he took the jacket you didn’t even notice he had over his arm and placed it around your shoulders and you shut up at the motion, his hands still on your shoulders.

“You look like you’re cold, cowboy. It’s a good look on you, but I think you always look good. I also think you are my favourite face I have seen all day- maybe ever. Hell, I might have to send your friend a fucking great wedding present.”

“What?”

He takes half a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“I’m going to kiss you because that’s what I have wanted to do from the first day I saw you, not just now, not because you walked in looking like a western fantasy, not because I’m sorry for you or whatever you might cook up in that brilliant head-”

You cut him off this time, sneaking hands around his neck, pulling him to your height and kissing him. Your lips move together and it’s soft and steady and strong and everything you imagined it would be and it feels so right.

“Was there a hat with the outfit?”

“Fuck off Jack.”

“Say it again.”

“What, fuck off?”

“No, my name.”

And you’re both smiling so hard you think your face might split.

“Yeah- it was pink.”

And he laughs before kissing your cheek and you think that’s something you could get used to.