beautifulandvoid

[beautifulandvoid]

I have been OBSESSED with Digital Era!! Your writing is absolutely beautiful and I don’t think I’ve ever cared so much about hand placement in my life. I would love to see more of the story! What does the morning after look like? How does Mohabot react? Is there a secret bet in the PITT that’s about to be settled?

IHHHHH thank you, baby!!!<3 I probably mentioned this somewhere, but I actually planned to include the morning after and Mohabbot reaction in the original chapter. So, I’m happy you asked for this, because otherwise, it would’ve sat in my docs and never seen the light of day.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖣𝗋. 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 "𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒" 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝖣𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖤𝗋𝖺)

𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾

𝗐𝖼: 3.7𝗄

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌/𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌; 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖾-𝗀𝖺𝗉

You wake not from the weight over your waist, or the heat seeping into your back. No, what rouses you from sleep is the face nuzzling into the nape of your neck, the scratch of a beard against your skin. 

Slowly, very slowly as you come to, you hear a low, soft hum and occasional sigh follow what you realise is a set of awfully familiar lips brushing kisses against your skin. They're barely there, not a press in comparison to a soft pout. 

You let your eyes remain closed, basking in the moment, until you eventually ask, "Enjoying yourself?" 

Your voice is sleep-adled and muffled from the pillow, but the indication that you're awake is enough for the man behind you to suddenly freeze. Now, only Robby's breath actively fans across your naked shoulder. If you don't imagine it, you could hear him swallow.

You giggle upon realising that he hadn't planned to wake you, nor for you to notice his affectionate nuzzling. Your amusement seemingly snaps him out of whatever hesitant state he'd entered.

"Don't laugh," he says, but he isn't embarrassed as a smile breaks through the sentence. The same smile you can feel as he presses a firmer kiss to your shoulder, then see as you turn in his arms.

"Mm, it's all in good nature." You assure him upon meeting his brown eyes.

His hair is flatter than last night, pressed against his forehead. Somehow, it's still ruffled from sleep. He looks soft, boyish in a different way than when that smug smile graces his features, especially with the soft curl to his lips now.

"Don't know if I ever said it yesterday," you hum, fingers carding through his beard before trailing one of them over the smile lines hidden beneath it, watching the upwards bow of his lips that put creases beside his eyes. "But I really like your smile."

Robby's huff is a soft sound through his nose as he tilts his head to press a kiss to your finger. "I already knew."

"You did?"

"Mhm, one of the few things I got to know beforehand." He hums low in his throat, the sound grittier than yesterday, much like his voice. "Got the excellent advice to just smile at you."

You chuckle. "Well, it was one of the reasons this turned into such a success." You press a quick peck against his lips, only making the very smile you're talking about widen.

"And what are the other reasons?"

"You really think you've earned the right to now?"

"After last night, definitely." You scoff gently, feeling Robby's arms tighten around your waist, closing the remaining space between your bodies. "But I have other methods to get the information."

You cock a brow. "Which is?"

He suddenly pulls the covers above your head, secluding you from the outside world as he attacks your neck with kisses. With his beard tickling your skin, your laugh spills naturally. 

You try to squirm away from him, but Robby quickly thwarts your attempts by rolling on top of you, elbows planted beside and close to your head. 

"R-Robby- Please!" You get out between having breaths and squeals, trying to tuck your chin so he doesn't get access to your neck. But he only ducks his head lower, chuckling against your skin as he drags his chin just lightly enough that his beard tickles more scratches pleasantly.

You scramble to push him away, but you're no way near strong enough to force Robby off of you, especially with so little space to move as well. So you aim for the only thing you can: his hair. Grabbing a fistful of his brown locks, you redirect his face with a tug back and yank forward.

Sometimes, you've got to thank the single-mindedness of men, because once you're kissing him, Robby's smug smile slowly fades as he starts reciprocating it. 

You moan softly into his mouth when he presses your head back with the way his falls lower between his shoulders. Unfortunately, from your previous laughter, there isn't much more air in your lungs and you have to pull back to replenish your oxygen. But your little plan works, as Robby doesn't go back to his teasing.

You breathe the same air, mouths hovering not far from each other, all the while gazing at each other. The duvet blocks out some of the light, making Robby's pupils hard to distinguish from the brown of his eyes, and shadows play across his features. But they don't make him look sharp or jagged, but soft and muted. 

Something from yesterday appears again. The butterflies fluttering in your stomach during dinner. The thrumming in your chest from the elevator. The excitement from arriving at Robby's apartment.

"Gotta admit, I'm not used to this," you murmur against his lips.

Robby's lips twitch upwards, dropping his chin to pointingly graze yours. "Do I hear a complaint?"

"No," you quickly say on a laugh, unable to handle another attack. "No, you're not."

"Good," he mumbles, following up with, "I'm not either."

"No?" You had already suspected that he didn't date and hadn't for a while, but you never got confirmation yesterday.

"God, no, it's been years." You release a soft sound, one you were only able to do this early. 

"Happy I broke the spell," as you speak, your fingers start carding through his hair, from the short strands near his neck to the crown of his head.

He sighs, eyelids dropping, relishing your gentle scratching. "Yeah, me too," he agrees, even if it wasn't really a question to begin with. Nonetheless, it manages to make you smile before Robby's mouth dips to cover yours.

The kiss is lazy this time around. Slow enough that you can take a deep breath through your nose and not disturb the kiss. Even if the air beneath the covers grows warmer, stickier from used oxygen, it remains disgustingly cosy, not growing into something frenzied.

A shudder runs through your body when Robby gently coaxes your tongue with his. Goosebumps spread across his skin as well when you drag your nails up his back.

It's cosy, disgustingly so, as you break into a smile that Robby is quick to mirror, leaving your noses to brush more than your lips.

"We should get up."

"Not enjoying my wake-up?" His voice is light, the question asked on a barely contained chuckle.

"I'm enjoying it very much," you giggle, "But I also know my growling stomach soon will run the mood."

He chuckled at that, conceding with a shake that really carried the same air as a nod as he tossed the covers aside, climbing off of you and out of bed. Clad in only a pair of navy boxers, you have to bite the inside of your cheek hard to not go back on your decision as your eyes trail over Robby.

His soft tummy with the delicious happy trail that made you grit your teeth. The hair on his chest where his necklace rested, gold shining through dark brown. His strong arms with the tattoos you hadn't realised he had before you prepared to go to sleep. When he turned, you stared at that muscular back you could look at for days.

Probably feeling your eyes burn into him, Robby looks back at you as he picks up his jeans, along with yours, from yesterday. "Are you going to defy your own stomach?"

"Can't fault a girl for looking," you offer with a cheeky smile, not even trying to deflect.

One side of his mouth kicks up as he throws your pants on the bed. "Get decent." You huff out a chuckle as you climb out of bed. 

Similar to Robby, you slept in solely your panties, the rest of you bare. And like clockwork, you feel the same heat you just subjected Robby to drag across your body. You watch him watch you, entertained by how he paused buttoning up his jeans to shamelessly stare when you step out of your underwear, icky at the thought of wearing them throughout today as well. Yet, you don't remain naked before him for

"What happened to decency?" You smugly point out as you grab your bra, Robby's eyes finally meeting yours as you hook it in place before shuffling it around the right way and sliding your arms into the straps.

It's his turn to scoff, walking over to his closet to retrieve a shirt with a grumbled, 'Decency, she says while giving me striptease.'

You bite your lip to curb both a smile and the laugh bubbling up, moving around the room to find your top. Spotting the white crumbled fabric, you pad over to the middle of the room.

When you pick up the white,curmpled heap of fabric from the floor, you scrunch your nose at your cardigan. 

You remember the forecast said it would only become warmer each passing day. Given the sun shining through the blinds and how the room is already hotter than when you arrived at Robby's yesterday, they were correct. 

Even thinking about putting on the fluffy piece of clothing you thought was such a cute choice yesterday made your skin prickle.

"Didn't plan for good weather?" You follow the smug voice, catching Robby just as he tugs a t-shirt over his head.

"Didn't plan for a sleepover," you return, watching as his head pops through the opening, hair slicked down somewhat and with a smile on his face.

"Lucky me that you changed your mind," he says, stepping up to you. One of his arms winds around your waist, pulling you against his body.

You roll your eyes, but don't parry his face when he bends down to plant a kiss against your lips.

Robby's arm tightens around you, large hands splaying wider, fingers brushing the lace of your bra. His other hand finds your hip, half of it atop your jeans, the other half reaching your bare stomach above the hem.

"Borrow one of my shirts." He offers when he stands straight again.

"Is that okay?" Robby doesn't answer, merely sends you a look that says enough. You laugh softly, getting his point. When you try to step away, however, you're held back. "Robby?" 

He releases a hum, shifting his hold, sliding his arm until he holds your hips with both hands. You peer up at him, curious when his brown eyes remain downcast. It's not until he starts angling your hips, twisting your body this and that way, that your eyebrows raise, a light scoff escaping through your nose.

Robby's eyes flicker up to meet yours, only momentarily, before they drop down the length of your body again. "Just enjoying the view before it's gone."

"Oh my god," you laugh this time, pushing at his chest, but it has the opposite effect, as rather than pushing Robby further away, he pulls your hips against his.

"Can't fault me," he dips to mouth along your clavicle, the action awfully familiar from yesterday, especially as he speaks against your skin, "Real good memoris." 

"Let me get dressed," you breathe, not complaining, but the cramping in your stomach makes it easy to stay focused. "I'm getting hungry... and not for that." You quickly add when Robby leans away, watching you with raised brows and lips curled inwards.

"Tease," he muses, reluctantly letting go of your hips.

"Insatiable," you retort with a glance over your shoulder as you move to where he previously stood, yet Robby doesn't look the slightest bit bashful, only shrugs with an easy smile.

"You bring it out of a man, sweetheart." And it's your time to duck your head and mumble something incomprehensible while digging through his closet for just a plain white shirt.

With Robby lending you a spare toothbrush and you applying some of the bare basics makeup and skincare you always carry with you, it's not long before you find yourself ready and by his front door.

Yet, before you can reach the door handle, a finger loops through one of your belt loops, gently tugging you back a step to not disturb your impaired balance in heels. Another decision you aulted your past self for doing. 

You turn to look at Robby, who's got one hand in his back pocket, the other urging you closer by another tug on your jeans. You accept your fate, letting yourself be herded toward him, knowing what he wants when he ducks his head.

When you can't help but giggle, he mumbles, "The first-kiss rule is already broken," between light, repeated pecks.

You break into a smile at that, hovering just out of reach so you can speak uninterrupted, "So just because of that, all bets are off?"

Robby notches his chin lower when he leans away, watching you through his brows despite the height difference. "Last night kinda sealed the deal."

He says it with that boyish smile on his lips as his eyes almost gleam. It's infuriatingly disarming and just like yesterday, you avert your eyes, unable not to smile yourself despite shaking your head.

"Yeah, yeah, eat it up while you can."

"Oh, I will."

You roll your eyes, huffing an amused, "Fine, I'll let you", as you peck his cheek, fully intent on being on your way as you slide your hand into the grip he has on your pants to interlock your fingers. But Robby has other thoughts, as his other hand finds the back of your head to redirect your mouth to his and prolong the peck into something more.

"We shouldn't-" you begin, but Robby's lips chase yours, finding them, and interrupt the sentence, "-we'll never get going otherwise."

"Wouldn't mind just having lunch instead." Your resolve is so fuckign weak around him that you genuinely consider agreeing. Thankfully, the sound of Robby's phone breaks you apart.

With a groan, he pulls away from you, only letting one hand fall at first to reach his phone, then the other joins to type out a message as a furrow works itself between his eyebrows.

"What is it?"

Robby's eyes jump from the screen he scowls at, the expression falling instantly. "Oh, nothing." You send him an unimpressed look, and he sighs, "Just my colleague checking in."

"Collegue as in friend or not?"

"Friend." You smile, eyes falling to his black screen, only to jump back up to his eyes.

"And what did they ask?"

"How things are going?"

"And you answered?"

"That I'm having brunch, so don't disturb me."

You laugh, head tilting as you look up at him. "Didn't they set you up with me? Surely you don't need to be so secretive?"

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head but never dropping his gaze from yours, "Oh ho, that's plenty enough for them, trust me." 

As on cue, Robby's phone chimes, and his eyes drop, only to send you an amused look and turn the phone towards you.

Send her our greetings.

You laugh as you walk away, pulling him along with your interwined hands and out of the door to finally be on your way.

You walk to the brunch place hand in hand, the restaurant not far and fortunately not packed. Once seated, the waitress takes your orders. Both you and Robby opt for pancakes, with Robby choosing a sweet and savoury combination featuring maple syrup and bacon, while you select a purely sweet one with berries, whipped cream, and syrup.

The conversation is light, comfortable as you wait for your food. Continuing in the same fashion once your plates are set down in front of you and you dig into your orders.

You don't really know what prompts it, just that the short sequences you just witnessed will be one you'll shove away in your mind, a little movie to replay in the future and look back at fondly. Why? You don't know. But your heart thuds a little harder after watching Robby laugh at one of your jokes, a droplet of syrup falling onto his hand as his fork hangs in the air a little longer. Setting down his utensil, he licks the rup from his finger, shaking his hand in retrospect to whatever you'd said, sending you a look that was nothing but amused. 

There's a softness in the moment that makes you infinitely happy that Robby's friends set you up with him.

"Can I borrow your phone?" You ask Robby suddenly and with a little smile, head resting on your fist. He raises his brows, watching you questioningly. 

Honestly, you hadn't thought he would give it to you, but your smile widens when he shuffles in his seat with a "Sure" and hands it to you across the table. 

You break into a bigger grin as you enter his camera. Of course, Robby notices when you angle it to fit him in the frame, the sides of his mouth twitching up. "What are you doing?"

You're quick to take a picture when you see the gentle smile on the screen, even if he doesn't look into the lens. Deciding not to answer but simply show him, you turn his phone around. 

His eyes fall to the screen, but he doesn't properly see what's shown before he fishes up his glasses and puts them on. 

"You looked too handsome not to." His brown eyes widen, and as they jump to look at you over the black rims of his glasses, a pink hue is already working its way to colour his cheeks.

"Really?" He scoffs, head hanging as he rubs at his neck.

You giggle, loving that bashful expression of his as he looks at you, hand still on the back of his head, scratching through the short hair there. But you decided to push it further, hoping to succeed with what you aimed for in the beginning.

"Do you mind opening your and Jack's conversation?" You wiggle the phone.

Robby's hand drops, eyebrews shooting up. "Don't tell me-"

"If you don't want me to, that's fine." You reassure him, then close his phone and hand it back to him.

"You're only adding fuel to the fire," he says on a chuckle, shaking his head, but abides your request by motioning for you to join him by curling his index finger.

You eagerly move from your side of the table and slide into the booth Robby sits in, not shy to press your body against his. As he hands back his phone, now with the requested conversation open, he raises his arm and rests it behind you on the backrest.

Even though Robby sees you write the message, you tilt the screen more towards him so he can read it properly once you're done.

—Good news, he gave me a smile.

*Picture attached*

"Are we in the clear?"

"You'll have to repay me for this," he mutters as he presses send and plucks the phone from your hands. You turn to look up at him, lips curved in a smile. "And just how do you imagine I should?"

"Free tonight? There's this other restaurant I've wanted to test." He asks, setting his phone aside and taking off his glasses as he does so.

Your break into a smile. "We haven't even finished our second date and you're already asking for a third?"

"A waste to not spend my days off with you when I have the chance." This time, you duck your head, feeling a warmth rush up your throat. Robby's chuckle is low, his hand settling right where your neck meets your upper back. "Didn't hear a no."

You look at him, meeting his brown eyes. You're only partly distracted by their sfotness, and by his thumb brushing beneath the collar of the too-large shirt you borrowed from him. "I'm free, but no late night, because I work tomorrow."

"No sleepover this time, got it," you roll your eyes as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

***

After Robby's curt reply over an hour ago, Jack didn't think he would change his mind and reach out, so the notification does make his brows furrow as he sits on the bed, blackout curtains drawn and prosthetic resting against the bedside table. But, confusion soon turns into pleasant surprise when he stares at a short text, accompanied by a picture.

With a fond scoff, he set the phone aside, knowing someone who would like to see those messages. 

Even if Jack's smile is faint, it's there when he arrives at the Pitt that evening and sees Samira. He doesn't go up to her, choosing to wait by the lockers as she finishes her conversation with Dana. But, he doesn't have to wait for long before she does, visibly perking up as her brown eyes land on him.

It never fails to make Jack's lips twitch upwards, but when he holds his phone up, informing her that, "I've got updates," the same thing as always beats harder in his chest upon seeing something in her eyes light up more than usual.

When Samira sees what's on the screen, she gasps and quickens her steps, taking the phone from him once close enough. Her eyes instantly land on the picture, then the text, before moving to the picture again once she has received the explanation for it, and finally look at Jack with a wide smile. 

"They already went on a second?" 

"That's from this morning," he informs her.

Samira's eyes widen, mouth dropping open in excitement. "No, it isn't!" 

"She spent the night." Jack juts his chin, directing her higher in the message chain. He sees her scrolling when he says, "Bet you'll have an easier time Tuesday." 

Samira's smile remains, albeit tilting more towards confusion as she looks at Jack. When he tips his head, eyebrows cocking, she realises. "God, you're impossible," she scoffs, but his expression only drops into an amused one. 

"Consider it mission succeeded."

Choosing to ignore the very implicit comment, Samira's eyes drop to the picture. 

She's never seen Robby smile like that. What makes the picture even sweeter is that his eyes are shifted slightly to the right, looking at whoever is taking the picture, you. Whatever apprehensions she had before about this idea have entirely vanished. Mission succeeded indeed.

[beautifulandvoid]

Quiet Part 4

Widower!Jack Abbott x Widow Single Mom!Reader

Part 1 can be found here, Part 2 can be found here and Part 3 can be found here!

19.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: death of toddler discussed (not reader’s); domestic Jack; domestic Robby; shy reader; discussions of loss of spouse; anxiety; grief; guilt; shame; self-hate; light body image issues for reader; Jack was in the army; reader's husband was in the army and died while deployed; reader is not a therapist; no use of Y/N or related.

Summary: You and Jack try to work through your miscommunication, a patient death rocks him, and Robby loves being an uncle.

AN: Well, we ended up getting an extra 6k words or so because of me splitting this from Part 3, including some very cute Jack and baby and Robby and baby scenes (or at least I hope they're cute lol). I used an OC for Robby’s love interest because it's going to be easier for the future of the story and her role in it for me to have control over her background, how long she's been at the Pitt, her friends, her personality, etc. I’m so sorry if your name is Rowan and/or you’re called Ro. Like I said with Part 3, we're getting towards some of the plans I have for them that I'm really looking forward to writing! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!! ♥️

"Dada," your son whimpers at the closed door and the sudden disappearance of Jack.

He starts to cry and you're quick to pull him in closer to your chest and bounce him. This isn't abnormal, he often cries when one of you leaves if he's not distracted. It just hits you harder tonight.

"I know Baby, he had to go to work, he'll be-" You stop yourself. You don't know if you can say it like you always do. He'll be back soon.

"You're okay," you murmur to him, kiss the top of his head. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay." A few of your own tears fall before you even realize it as you shush your son and take him into the living room to grab one of his favorite toys. It works and distracts him and his tears stop soon. It takes a little longer for you to get yours under control but eventually you do.

You don't realize as much time passes as it does but your phone chiming with a text pulls you further back into the moment.

J - Made it to work

You want to hold onto that text so badly, try to convince yourself that if he wasn't coming back he wouldn't have bothered sending that text. He'd just be done. And you do take some comfort from it but your brain still twists it, that the message was short, he meant it with some short tone you read into it. You don't know what to say so you keep it simple.

You - Good

The rest of your night is typical other than the ache in your heart and the whirlwind of thoughts in your brain. You spend time with your son and once you get him down you go and finish cleaning up dinner. As you deal with the dishes you have time to think and you hate it.

You replay everything you thought during dinner, everything you've been thinking since dinner. You're terrified Jack isn't coming back. You're terrified that this has made it too real and Jack can't or doesn't want to deal with it or handle it or something.

And then you realize that you've been so focused on Jack and worrying about you and Jack that you haven't let yourself think much about the fact that your son's first word was dada and that it was spoken to a man that wasn't your husband because your husband isn't fucking here. Your husband is hundreds of miles away in Arlington.

Your son is never going to call him dada or daddy or dad. Not really. Not in a sense that feels meaningful. Sure he might talk about him that way or refer to him like that but he's never going to call your husband that. He's not going to get your husband's, his father's, attention by saying those words. Again, because your husband isn't fucking here.

You replay the whole scene in your head, your son saying it for the first time, you and Jack looking at each other, both of you excited and in the happiest disbelief and emotional. Both of you shedding tears.

And it's not how it was supposed to look. It's not how it looked when you imagined it the few times you'd let yourself think about not miscarrying and really having this baby during those five weeks you knew you were pregnant and your husband was alive.

But like with so many things, you don't hate it. You don't hate the way it looks with Jack there. And maybe you should. Maybe you should be way more upset about him calling Jack dada. Maybe you shouldn't want him to, or shouldn't be okay with it. Does your husband hate you for that? That you don't hate it and that you like it? Are you the worst wife?

A crushing wave of guilt overwhelms you, one that drowns out some of your worry about losing Jack. Guilt that you were more focused on you and Jack than your husband and your grief over losing him and your son calling a different man dada. And that grief is right there with the guilt to further overwhelm you.

And you can't do it. You just cannot do it tonight. You can't feel. You're too tired and your head hurts and your tears are mixing with soap as you finish the dishes and Jack isn't here to talk this out with and your husband is dead and everything is so fucked up in your head you can't breathe.

So no. You can't do this tonight. You can't feel these feelings and try to work through them. And you won't.

Oftentimes, most of the time really, when Jack is working, you stay up as late as you can to text with him to the extent he can. But not tonight. Tonight you can't. You can't sit or lay in bed and think about what just happened and if Jack's too freaked out and going to leave. You can't berate yourself for not thinking about your husband enough, not being upset enough, not immediately feeling enough grief when it happened. You can't drown in the guilt and the grief. You can't feel.

So you take some sleeping meds, get ready for bed, climb in and set an alarm. You send Jack a text to let him know, brain screaming the whole time that he doesn't care and won't miss texting you and will be relieved, and that you shouldn't care whether he cares right now because you should just be guilty and grieving your husband and too upset about your husband not being here to feel any other emotions.

You - Hey, just wanted to let you know I'm falling asleep. I hope things have been okay so far and the rest of your shift is good

As the meds start to hit and you get drowsy it really hits you, that realization you've been repressing so you don't have to think about it and sort through all of the emotions that come with it. The reason that the guilt and grief is so crushing, more intense than it has been in a good while now. The reason you're so terrified of losing Jack.

Love.

You're falling in love with Jack. You might already love Jack in a way if you could get yourself to be honest with yourself.

And it feels so good and so fucked up of you at the same time and you wonder if your therapist could emergency fit you in tomorrow to try and help you with some of this because your head is so fucked up right now.

You'd be in a full on panic attack if the meds weren't forcing you under. You're grateful that they're working and your eyes shut and stay shut as sleep blankets you.

Jack misses your presence tonight as odd as that sounds. Normally he feels his phone buzzing periodically up to a certain time. It's always you. Always you sending texts during the night of photos or videos of your son, updates and your reactions to whatever reality TV show you're watching, things you see while scrolling whatever app you're on that make you think of him.

His phone has buzzed once tonight so far. That's quiet. Jack doesn’t like the quiet. The quiet has been far too kind to him lately and he knows it. So the quiet isn't helping any of his anxiety, in particular his anxiety about losing you.

He's thankful that the shift is busy because it saves him from thinking too much about anything other than work and what's in front of him or around him. But around midnight he gets a chance to sit in the break room long enough to actually eat what you'd packed him. He looks to see what you've sent him as he reheats his food in the microwave.

While Jack believes you that you're asleep and not just not texting him, it still increases his uneasiness. You sent that message around 10:15 and the entire time Jack has known you, except for when you were sick, he has never seen you go to bed before 11. You're a night owl like him and even though you work normal hours you often still struggle to go to sleep at a decent time. He shoots a quick text back.

J - It's been okay so far, thanks. I hope you sleep well Sweetheart

It worries him. But you did seem tired, so it makes sense. Right? He wonders if you’re not feeling well, if you’re getting sick. You would tell him though, wouldn’t you? He considers texting, calling even, to ask if you’re not feeling well, but he doesn’t want to wake you. Maybe he should bring some stuff home just in case you are getting sick, help prevent it from getting worse. 

Maybe it’s your period or the days before and so you’re just hit with general malaise. God, should he even be thinking about that with how relatively new everything is? Is that too personal? He��s a doctor so it’s just something that comes to mind. Maybe you’re anemic though, if it is your period. He should try to get you to come in and order a couple of blood tests, just to be sure you’re okay. A quick CBC, BMP and serum iron. Well maybe a CMP since you’ll be giving blood anyway, TSH maybe. 

That's all overkill and he knows it. You're just tired, like he's just tired sometimes. His brain is just choosing something else to spin out over that seems easier to cope and focus on in comparison to spinning out over him stealing this huge thing from your husband and you maybe wanting to break up with him.

Jack resigns himself to seeing how you are in the morning and going from there. If you'll let him in your place and stay. He's watching your son tomorrow so he doubts you'll say anything before you get home at night, especially because you will want him to be able to grab some sleep, he's sure. You're caring and compassionate like that.

He thinks about that something else he's feeling about this whole situation that still hasn't quite come to the surface yet. He grabs his food from the microwave and sits down as he tries to get it to come up for him.

It's looking at his ringless left hand as he stirs that makes it click.

He was supposed to be doing this with his wife. Their baby was supposed to be calling him dada. He was supposed to look over at her and cry with her over it and get to embrace her and kiss her and have it be a purely happy moment, maybe with some bittersweetness of their baby growing up.

They'd been actively trying when she died. But he never got to have that with her.

All of the things he does with your son were supposed to be with their baby. And somehow that had never really fully occurred to him until this moment. How was that even fucking possible? How could he be that shitty of a fucking husband to just not remember or realize he'd wanted this with her? Does she hate him? Think he's the worst husband? Is he the worst husband?

His own wave of guilt crushes him. Like yours does, it drowns out a lot of his worry about losing you. It's guilt for somehow not putting together this was something he was supposed to have with her. Guilt for not grieving that all over again because of course it was on his mind every time he saw a child of any age for at least the entire first year after losing her. But he grieved and it got better. Still, his brain tells him he should've been grieving it again when your son came into his life and he hasn't grieved enough recently, his grief hasn't been prominent enough in his life. So grief is right there with his guilt to overwhelm him further too.

Jack can't do this at work. He can't feel all this shit and be this in his head. He'll end up being so distracted he might kill somebody. Or at least that risk is there. So he has to box it all up and put it on a shelf in his mind to deal with later. To deal with his therapist on Monday. Maybe some of it with you if you even still want him because he still wants you. Even with this grief suddenly raging. He still wants to be with you.

He puts the lid back on his lunch because he's not hungry now. It makes him think of you, of course. How you didn't really eat. How you packed this for him even when clearly in your head about things. And there through all the guilt and grief about his wife, more of his worry about losing you resurfaces.

Jack knows why it scares and worries him so much. He's known for a while.

Love.

Jack is falling in love with you. Really Jack knows he probably already is in love with you, he's still working on admitting that to himself.

And it feels good. Loving you. Loving your son. Your son calling him dada. It feels so, so good in a way Jack never thought he'd feel again. But like for you, there's some part of it that feels wrong. He knows she'd be happy for him. That wherever she is, she is happy for him. About all of it. Finding you and falling in love with you. Having your son to love like his own and your son calling him dada. He thinks back to the dove. He knows she wants this for him. But in the moment knowing that isn't really making anything easier.

"Jack." Bridget opening the break room door and saying his name pulls him from his thoughts. "Two majors and a minor rolling in five. Victims of a pretty nasty MVC."

He nods and starts standing up. "I'll be right there." And just like that Jack shoves everything in a box and sets it aside for now.

You wake up in the morning feeling like you didn't sleep at all. But at least you weren't actually awake because all the feelings crash back down on you once you're awake and you wish you could just take more sleeping meds and roll back over. You have to get up though. Get yourself ready. Get your son ready for daycare maybe.

As you sit up you grab your phone and read Jack's text. Sweetheart. That has to be good, right? Him using a pet name. And he hasn't let you know he won't be able to watch your son, so he's probably coming still. But you won't let yourself bet on it. Your brain tells you that if you don't get your son ready for daycare he won't show, and that if you do Jack will be here.

So once you've gotten yourself ready and dressed for the day you slip into your son's room and wake him up and get him changed and out of his pajamas. You're slipping him into his high chair when you hear the lock of your front door turning. Jack's home.

"Hey Sweetheart, I'm here," he calls to you as he sets his backpack down and pulls his scrub top off so he's just in his undershirt. He thought about things on his way home and worked through some stuff in his head and is feeling much better. Much lighter and more like himself. It's not like the guilt and grief and other feelings disappeared, he just seems to have a better handle on them at the moment. He's still worried about you though, and a little worried you're going to break up with him, but the return of rational thought has helped with that worry too.

"We're in the kitchen," you call back to him, going to grab your son some breakfast.

"Hey," Jack says through a long breath out as he walks in. It was a long night and he's glad to be home. His stomach sinks though when he looks at your son and sees him in real clothes and his daycare bag on the table looking packed.

"Dada, dada!" your son says excitedly, kicking his feet and holding his arms up for Jack with a smile.

Jack can't help but beam and you catch it and it starts to make you think that maybe things are okay. "Hi, Kid! Did you sleep well? I missed you!" He walks over to your son and leans down, gives your son several kisses to the cheek and tickles his tummy, chuckling at the way it makes him giggle. That scene soothes some of your nerves even more.

"Hey," you say softly as you walk back over to your son with some breakfast for him that you get situated on his tray.

"Hi," Jack murmurs, "I missed you too." He can tell from your face how tired you are and it worries him. But he just wants to feel you first so he wraps his arms around you a little hesitantly.

He doesn’t ask. Not verbally at least. He still does sometimes, but usually in a different context, when he's asking for a kiss, not if he can kiss you. He doesn’t need to ask anymore, you’ve told him that, because you don’t want him to feel like he can’t just have a normal relationship with you and because you’re okay with it. With him not asking. You’re there. 

Sometimes though he brushes his thumb over your lips to tell you that he wants to kiss you, that he’s going to kiss you, giving you time as he leans in to pull away. It makes your heart flutter a bit, the way he respects you and never wants to make you uncomfortable and pays so much attention to make sure you’re okay with anything the two of you do. 

And that's what he does now, his thumb brushing over your lips. But this time he waits a few seconds before leaning in. You wrap you arms around him and Jack takes that as a sign and smiles to himself a little when you don't pull away as he leans in to kiss you. You kiss a few times, short and sweet, but the last one lingers, each of you trying to take as much reassurance as possible from it.

When Jack pulls away he studies your face a little harder. It doesn't look like you slept much at all. Not in a bad way like you look anything less than beautiful to him, just in the sense you look exhausted and sad and drained and unwell and it hurts his heart. "Did you sleep at all last night?" His brows furrow and he brings the back of his hand to your forehead. "Are you feeling sick?" You're not feverish, which Jack is happy about, but still.

"Oh, yeah, I slept the night. I fell asleep shortly after I texted you. I think I just slept like shit. Sometimes the sleeping meds do that, I guess. But I don't really feel sick. Just tired." You shrug to yourself a little and go to pour yourself some coffee to go. You need to find it in you to ask if Jack is watching him.

He's glad you're not feeling ill, but the sleeping meds catch Jack off guard and make his brows furrow even further, his mouth pulling down in a frown. "You took sleeping meds?"

You still for just a second. You forgot you hadn't told him, not that you feel the need to hide it or anything, you just didn't say it in your text. "Yeah. My mind was just racing and I knew I wouldn't be able to shut it off to try and get some sleep. And shitty restless sleep sounded better than being awake with my thoughts, I guess."

So you went to sleep early to avoid feeling anything. Jack gets it. He really does. But it makes his anxiety about losing you spike and he remembers the daycare bag looks packed and you just kissed him, yeah, but maybe you lingered on that last kiss because it was a kiss goodbye.

"Is he going to daycare?" He looks over at the bag and then back at you. "I thought I was watching him?"

You look down at your travel mug and swallow hard. "I, um, I just wasn't sure… if you were going to be able to anymore, so, um, I thought I'd get him ready just to be safe. But, yeah, if you still could, that would be great."

Jack gives you a second because he can tell there is so much you're not saying and he wants to see if you'll say anything else. But you don't. "Why wouldn't I be able to anymore? I can, to be clear. Just what made you think I wouldn't be able to anymore?" he asks with a slight shake of his head, the confusion clear on his face.

You chew on your lip and shrug. What the fuck are you supposed to say? He's so different now, not at all like he was when he left yesterday and it leaves you a little thrown and berating yourself for not realizing he might have just needed some time to process everything and that you jumped straight to him leaving you.

"Hey," he says softly, walking over to you and resting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. "Talk to me, please. If you can. I know something is going on and if I can help I want to." His thumbs run soothing circles against your shoulders over your top.

You look up at him as scared and small as he's ever seen you. It shatters some piece of him and he will do anything to make sure you never look like this again. "Are you staying?" you whisper.

"Of course," he whispers back, brows pulled together tightly.

"Not like now, but like… you're not going anywhere?" You force the next group of words out of your mouth because you just need to know and you know you need to talk to him and communicate better than you have so far. "You don't, you don't need time or space? Or want to break up?"

Jack shakes his head once, a bewildered shock twisting his face. "No. God, no." He takes your face in his hands gently. "Sweetheart, why, or, or what made you think I might want any of that?"

Shame floods you. For even thinking any of that was a possibility. And what if you thinking it and asking him is going to make him decide he does need time or space or to break up? You're too tired for all of the emotions running through your brain, for how intensely you're feeling them all. Any semblance of rationality you had when you woke up is quickly fading.

You don't know how to answer him. You don't want him to think your thoughts reflect on him. Because they don't, not really. They reflect your brain and your trauma.

"I, I don't want you to think that I think poorly of you or really believe you could or, or would just walk away, because I don't. It's just where my brain goes to try and prepare for, for loss I think." You look at him pleadingly. "And I don't want you to think any of this is your fault."

"I'm not going to think that Sweetheart, I understand," Jack assures you.

"Yesterday, after he called you dada and that initial few minutes passed, you just seemed… upset, almost. Or overwhelmed. And you got quiet and I thought maybe it just made reality hit, like the reality that you're not just taking on a relationship with me, you're taking on a child, you're becoming a parent in a sense. I thought maybe that was too much for you, more than you could really handle, or that maybe it made this too real and you realized you didn't want this. Or, or weren't ready or something. So I thought maybe you weren't going to come back other than to get your stuff one day. That maybe you'd break things off." You shrug and sniffle, a few of the tears you'd desperately been fighting off spilling over your lash line and down your cheeks, wetting Jack's thumbs where they rest against your skin. "I'm sorry. Deep down, rationally, I knew you wouldn't do that, wouldn't just not come back, or leave because of this but I just got worked up and wasn't being rational, so I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Jack. And I get if this changes things for you."

"It hasn't changed anything, I promise." His thumbs wipe away the tears and he moves his hands down to pull you into him for a hug. "I promise you have nothing to be sorry for, I understand. I was worried the same almost. That maybe it made things too real for you or it was just too much too soon or you were upset at him calling me dada because that's what he should've called your husband, any of those kinds of things. I was worried you might want to end things."

"Never," you sniffle, "it never crossed my mind. It stirred up some feelings yeah, and I thought about my husband and there's grief and, and I desperately need to see my therapist to try and untangle whatever the fuck my mind is right now because I can barely articulate anything about how I feel with how fuzzy my head feels, but I never thought it was too much or that we needed to break up or that I wasn't ready or anything like that and it didn't upset me, it doesn't upset me."

Jack pulls away just enough so that he can look down at you.

“None of that ever crossed my mind either. Well I suppose that's not quite true. I never thought it was too much or that I wasn't ready. I very briefly wondered if I should give you an out and break up with you or float the idea of us ending things because I thought it might be the best thing for you and what you wanted. But then I thought that it's not for me to say what's best for you or would help you, and I knew I was off the rails when I was thinking that shit. But I never, not even for a second, wanted to break up or felt like we needed to," he says firmly. Not in a mean way, just for emphasis. "I can't tell you how sick and upset it makes me feel to even think about us not being together, to think about losing you. And losing him." He glances at your son.

"And I wasn’t upset by it, by him calling me dada. I was, I was…” He lets out a long breath. “I don’t know. I wasn’t upset and it’s not that I didn’t like it or that it made things too real or was overwhelming. I just felt bad. Like I was stealing something from your husband. I don’t want to replace his father. I want you to know that and as he grows up I want him to know that. I want him to know his father.”

There's a little glimmer there for you. As he grows up. Jack's thinking about a future with you.

“So it, I don’t know, I guess it just threw me and I didn’t know how to react. I was so happy, like fucking ecstatic about it and proud of him and actually feeling that role and like I did fit it in a way, and I still do and I still love it and hearing it from him, but I also felt and still feel a little like the worst fucking person in the world for being excited that another man’s son, another soldier's son called me dada when I’m not and he's dead." He shakes his head a little, trying to figure out how to best describe his feelings.

"I just felt like I was overstepping almost or crossing some line, or that it might seem like I was trying to be him or erase him and it felt wrong to be as fucking incredibly happy as I was and to feel that role, but I still was and still am. I just got in my head and it took over and I didn't realize that was noticeable to you. I didn't want it to be. I didn't want to ruin that moment for you." He huffs a humorless laugh through his nose. "Fucked that one up pretty good."

"Dada! Dada!" Your son calling for Jack has the two of you looking over at him and chuckling at the mess he's managed to make with breakfast. Jack slides his hands to your waist and gives a gentle squeeze before turning to your son and grabbing a baby wipe from the daycare bag on the table.

"You've got a little something on your face there, Kid," he teases as he leans in to clean him off.

"Dada!" your son squeals with laughter as he tries to dodge Jack wiping him off.

The scene makes you smile, much of your anxiety dissipating from your conversation with Jack and watching him with your son. The guilt and grief hasn't gone away, and there's some lingering anxiety but you don't feel like you're about to drop into a full fledged panic attack at any moment.

"Alright, come here," Jack tells your son as he sets the wipe on the tray and unbuckles your son. Jack picks your son up and settles him in an arm before stepping back to be close to you.

As Jack starts speaking again you lean in and give your son a kiss, mouth a 'hi Baby' at him. "When I was at work, I realized that I'd never thought before about how my wife and I had wanted this. Kids. Like I knew that, but, I don't know, until now it just never really was like something I was consciously thinking about and that grief hadn't flared and now it has. Something about this made that hit. I guess it's like I realized that for most of the part of my adult life that I spent thinking about kids, I always thought when a baby called me dada it would be her and I's baby. I don't know how I, or my therapist frankly, hadn't thought about that yet, how it hadn't come up more intensely like this for me before now, because honestly that grief is pretty intense right now. It doesn't make me love him less, of course, just, it's there and I need to work through it. It's hard to explain."

You shake your head at him, give him a soft, knowing smile. "No, no I understand. I know what you mean, about different… aspects or parts of grief flaring, and I know it doesn't automatically change other feelings. It's just there like it always is, but worse or more prominent. It hurts a little worse. I think I'm in the same boat right now. Well," you laugh softly, "we both know I am. It, uh, has made me think about my husband a lot, yeah. And I wonder if I'm awful for not thinking about him more when it happened or for not being more upset or sad about it. I feel guilty. That my grief didn't, I don't know, outweigh my happiness almost, or that it wasn't far more prevalent, or equal, I guess. Which is obviously some pretty fucked thinking."

He nods. Jack understands. "I feel guilty too, yeah, wonder those same things. At work, when I realized, I felt awful about not having really thought about it before. We were like actively trying when she died and somehow it just never really occurred to me before. Maybe because he was here already and a part of you and we started as friends. I think it just had to be the word and the significance of it and having that role that brought it up." He shrugs because the answer is so simple to talk about but at the same time is so fucking complicated and hard and uncomfortable to execute. "So just some things to work through there. But I'm going to. Just like you are for the stuff this has kicked up for you and just like we both have before when we've had a flare of grief or that kind of thing. And I'm not going anywhere or changing anything while I work through it, okay?"

"Okay," you murmur. "Neither am I." You step closer to Jack and lean up, push your lips out a little to see if he wants a kiss or is okay with you kissing him, because you'd get if he wasn't with how he just spoke about his wife and his grief.

But Jack is more than happy to kiss you, is relieved that you seem to be feeling at least a bit better emotionally. He leans down to meet you and the two of you kiss, quickly smiling into it when a tiny hand taps on each of your cheeks. "Not getting enough attention Baby?" you ask your son as both you and Jack turn to look at him. He babbles at you a little and you and Jack both lean in at the same time and kiss one of his cheeks, sandwiching his face between yours and pulling pealing laughter from him, both of you chuckling as you pull away.

"I'm really sorry I upset you and made you feel like I might not come back, or like it might have been too real for me because that could not be further from the truth. I'm still right here and the same and just as committed as I was yesterday before he called me dada." Jack holds your gaze in that way he loves to as he speaks, his earnestness shining through his voice and eyes.

"No, no. Don't apologize. You're allowed to react and have feelings and you didn't make me feel like that. My brain made me feel like that, it was my reaction based on my own trauma and where my mind was at the time." You bring your hand to cup his jaw for a second before running it through already fluffy curls that make you smile. "And I'm just as committed too. I'm sorry for causing all of this. I should've just spoken to you and communicated better, and I'm sorry for not doing that and will do my best to do better in the future. And I'm sorry that I made you worry that I might break up with you or like it might have been too much for me, because, like you said, that couldn't be further from the truth."

Jack leans his head into your touch a little and lets his eyes flutter closed for a second. He loves the feelings of your hands in his hair. "You didn't cause this. At all. And I'm sorry that I didn't speak to you or communicate better and I'll try to do better in the future too." He lets out a huffed laugh, shaking his head slightly. "We could've saved ourselves a lot of worry and discomfort if we'd just talked."

You match his laugh. "We could've, yeah. It's hard sometimes, I guess. It's like I don't want to trigger something for you or make you feel bad or seem like I'm taking your grief and making it about me and how it impacts me, you know?"

"I do," he nods, "because I feel the same way a lot of the time."

Neither of you say it but couple's therapy crosses both of your minds. Not because there's a problem or things are on the rocks or even headed that way. But because this is a unique situation and you both just admitted to struggling at times with how to navigate and address your grief and how it impacts each other and your relationship. Yes, your individual therapists can help with that, but you both think maybe it's worth considering a couple's therapist. Nothing is said for now because neither of you want it to freak the other out while you're both coming down from being as anxious as you were.

"You going to be okay at work?" Jack asks softly.

You sigh. "Yeah, I just wish I didn't have to go." You glance at your watch. "And I really need to go now. I hate it. I'm sorry I can't stay to talk more. I, um, I also might call my therapist and see if she could squeeze me in at some point today because my head is truly such a mess. Would it be okay if I got home a little later if she could only take me after work?"

"Of course," Jack smiles at you. "I think that's a great idea and I hope she's able to see you. And I also wish you didn't have to go to work, but don't apologize. I'll be here to talk tonight or whenever you're ready and want to."

Both of you know that you have a lot more work to do with the feelings and grief this has stirred up for you. Neither of you are under the impression that everything is just magically better from the relatively short conversation you had. But neither of you are scared by the fact that it's not all magically better. You both know that there often will be work to be done to greater and lesser degrees for one or both of you because grief never truly goes away. And you both know you're committed here, that you're strong and want to be together and put in all the work for yourselves and for each other and for you as a couple.

Even though you know that the two of you are okay, you can't help but seek reassurance as Jack walks with you to the front door to see you off. You grab your things and turn to Jack and your son. "We're okay?"

Jack smiles at you and gives you a kiss. "We're more than okay on my end," he reassures you. "We okay on yours?"

You smile at him and take a kiss of your own. "More than."

Things have genuinely been great since the dada thing. You and Jack are great. Him and your son are great. It's only been a week, but it feels like a lot has happened in that week. You've both started working with your therapists on the emotions and grief that were brought up. You and Jack talked about it more after you each saw your therapist for the first time after it happened. You've talked about it as much and as often as you've both needed to over the week, including discussing couple's therapy and are looking into it and at therapists together. And you're continuing to work through things individually and as a couple. It was your first major miscommunication and you guys survived. If anything, you both feel like the whole thing has made you stronger as a couple, strengthened your communication and brought you closer together.

It's a Saturday, the day of the Pitt bowling afternoon and night. Dana scheduled it to start at five so that any night shifters working could swing by before starting if they wanted.

"Sir," Jack says with a humorous mock sternness and exaggeratedly raised brows as he looks down at your son who's laying on the sectional alligator rolling and wiggling all over as Jack tries to finish getting him dressed, his shirt already on. "I know it's awful and sometimes we just want to be pantless, believe me, I get it, I really do. But this is not a situation where we can do that. So if you want to go get more attention than you're going to know what to do with, you're going to have to let me get some pants on you, okay?"

You smile at the two of them from where you sit on the couch packing the diaper bag, or backpack, you suppose.

Your son giggles up at him in response, settling on his back but still kicking his legs rather wildly as he reaches up at Jack with his small hands. "Dada, Dada!"

"Give Dada just a second, Kid," Jack tells your son as he manages to get the jeans on your son and pulls them up. It had taken a few days, but Jack eventually worked through enough and was able to start referring to himself as Dada with your son. It had helped that your son started calling you mama the day after he first said dada.

"There!" He smiles down at your son. "Good job, Kid! Thank you." Jack leans down to give your son what he wants. Jack rests his forearms on either side of your son to take his weight and leans over and gives your son big overdramatic kisses on each cheek. He moves down and blows a couple of raspberries into your son's neck to your son's utter delight, full on baby belly laughs ringing through the room. You take a video of it, laughing to yourself at your son's laughter and Jack's struggle to blow more raspberries against his tummy where Jack's pulled his shirt up because Jack is laughing too. "Alright, crazy boy, how hard are we going to fight socks and shoes, hm?"

Jack picks your son up and holds him while he grabs a pair of shoes and socks, and sits down on the couch with them, your son in his lap. "Hey, thanks Man! I appreciate the spirit of cooperation." Jack praises your son as he doesn't fight getting socks and shoes on.

"You boys ready?" You smile over at both of them, your son looking up at Jack like Jack personally hung the moon and all of the stars for him.

Jack nods. "I think we are."

You and Jack get out the door and your son in his car seat and start the short enough drive to the bowling alley. You drum your fingers on your leg the closer you get, your anxiety starting to rise.

"You okay?" Jack asks, glancing over at you when it doesn't stop after a minute or so. "We don't have to do this, you know."

"No, no, I'm okay." You reach over and squeeze his thigh reassuringly. "Just, you know how I am. Shy. Social anxiety. But I know you and Robby and Dana. And I have to meet people eventually. I want to. I just…" you shrug, "have anxiety. I have to force myself to do it, and I don't mean that in a bad way, just that the only way to know people and make myself more comfortable is to go and meet them and push through it all at the beginning. These people are important to you, Jack. You guys are like a family, Dana said it. Pitt family. So I need to do this. I want to do this."

"Okay," Jack nods. He looks over at you at a red light. "But if you get too uncomfortable or anxious or want to leave for any reason just let me know and we'll go."

"I will, thank you." You smile at him. "At least the baby is kind of an icebreaker."

"True," Jack agrees. "And you have Ro to watch so we can lovingly tell Robby how fucking oblivious he's been being."

You laugh and nod your head at him. "I do, yes."

Ro is short for Rowan, the new-ish to the Pitt and Pittsburgh physician's assistant who Robby is into. You learned a lot about her from Robby one night he was over to hang with Jack and your son. She's a couple of years older than you, been here for about nine months, work days, is single, on the shyer similar to you, but assertive with patients and doctors when she needs to be, extremely smart and dedicated to emergency medicine.

"Is there a reason why he's being oblivious?" you ask Jack. "If you can share outside the best friend zone."

"I don't think it would really be in that zone. He's already told you how much about himself the times he's been over? He'd tell you this. He probably will tell you this when you tell him she's into him." Jack pauses for a second and thinks about how to phrase what he's heard from Robby before. "He's scared about putting himself back out there and doesn't want to risk undoing all the work he's done on himself, like he's worried he's going to fall back into old habits, especially ones that contributed to the end of past relationships."

You make a face of consideration and nod. "That makes sense."

Both Jack and Robby have talked about PittFest with you, though in Robby's case it's really with you and Jack, almost like he's bringing you up to speed at times. So you know what an absolutely awful time it was for him and how much therapy he's had since then and how hard he's worked on and for himself.

You think about what Jack said for a minute or so and then look over at him even though he can't look at you for more than a second or two at a time. "Do you think he's worried about undoing the work he's done or is it more that he's done all of this hard work on and for himself and improved himself in areas that have caused issues in past relationships and he's worried that he's going to get with someone and it's still not going to be enough? Or, that, in his perception, he's still not going to be enough? And so it'll just confirm for him in his mind that it's intrinsically him that's the problem and he's just never going to be good enough and doesn't deserve love? Or a combination thereof maybe?"

Jack opens his mouth to speak but then closes it because, damn you are probably so incredibly right. "I'm betting it's more all of that than him worrying he's going to fall back into old habits, yes."

"Understandable," you hum.

"It is," Jack nods. "Are you sure you're not a therapist?"

"Quite sure," you chuckle. "I'm just an over-thinker who's had a lot of therapy."

"Yeah," Jack nods in agreement as he pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot, "but you're my over-thinker who's had a lot of therapy." He smiles fondly at you once he's parked in a spot.

"That I am," you giggle a little. It's still so weird to hear sometimes. That you're his. You feel like it might always be.

Your giggle sends an urge to be close to you and a wave of adoration and happiness and… love, probably, if he was honest of himself, through Jack. He takes his seat belt off and is leaning over the center console before you can get yours to reel all the way back.

He brushes a thumb over your lips before he brings his lips to yours and kisses you. It's chaste at first, but devolves into more when you open your mouth for him, catching him by surprise. He's quick to take the opportunity to though, his tongue gliding over yours. Jack bites your bottom lip gently before pulling away, slightly flushed and breathing just a touch harder than normal.

"What was that for?" you ask a little breathlessly.

Jack smiles and shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Because I can."

You smile back at him and the two of you get out of the car, Jack grabbing your son out of his car seat since it's behind the driver's seat and throwing on the diaper backpack. It is admittedly quite a sight to see him this domestic and almost in a kind of dad mode, baby in one arm, diaper bag slung over the other shoulder, wearing one of his tighter shirts he often wears under his scrubs and a well fitting pair of jeans. His curls have gotten a little longer and that one is falling onto his forehead like it always does. It's hot. He's hot.

He always is. He's always unfairly handsome and attractive. You want him. You want him.

And that scares you a little. You haven't been with anyone since your husband obviously. Nobody, no man, has seen your post-baby body. And Jack is… Jack. All muscled and toned and salt and pepper curls and hazel eyes and beautiful smile and kissable lips and cheekbones. Sometimes you ask yourself what the fuck he's doing with you when he could have literally anyone. You see it all the time, women and men checking him out, staring for a little too long, flirting with him, sometimes right in front of you.

It brings up a lot of guilt and grief too. Just the fact of wanting to sleep with Jack, let alone actually doing it. You weren't supposed to sleep with anyone but your husband for the rest of your life. You still can't shake the feeling of disloyalty and how it makes you feel adulterous almost even when you know it's not. You know your husband would want you to move on and be with someone else, but it's just hard. There's still a lot for you to work through on this subject, and you know that, and that it's okay that there is, but you really hate it sometimes. And then there's guilt you feel for not being able to give Jack yourself like that even though you know he's okay with it, is happy to wait for you to be ready and never pressures you.

You remind yourself that you're allowed to have this, to want Jack and be attracted to him. That you're allowed to be happy and share your life with someone else.

"Can I help you?" Jack's voice brings you out of your head and back to the moment. He's smirking at you just a little. You must've been staring and letting your eyes roam him.

You breathe a little laugh, look like you've been caught. "Sorry, just, um… you look very good. This is a very good look on you."

"Yeah?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you nod. "We should head in."

Jack chuckles to himself a little as he agrees with a nod of his head, walking up to you and holding your hand with his free one, lacing your fingers together. He drops your hand only to open the door for you, rests his hand on your lower back once you're both through to help guide you over to where he spots everyone.

"Hi!" Dana says excitedly as her and Robby walk over to meet the three of you just a bit away from everyone to help ease you in. You're definitely within earshot of anyone who wants to focus and hear your conversation. She gives you a hug before turning to Jack and your son. "Hi boys!"

"Hey guys!" Robby greets you, similarly exchanging hugs with you and Jack. "Hi little man! How are you?"

Your son smiles at Robby before turning his head to look at Jack. "Dada! Dada!" Then he turns to look at you. "Mama!"

"Oh my god, it's even more precious in person!" Dana laughs.

"It really is," Robby agrees.

They both were sent videos of your son talking of course. Robby had gotten Jack to go to the roof with him for some privacy before asking how Jack felt about your son calling him dada. The two had a good conversation about it and Jack was grateful Robby brought it up because he wasn't really sure how to.

"Can you say Dana? Dana," you ask your son as you point to her. "Dana."

Your son hums like he's thinking about it. "Dana. That's Auntie Dana. I know you can do it," Jack tells your son, bouncing him a little to pull a laugh. "Dana."

"Na!" Your son looks at Dana as he says it, getting the schwa a little mixed with the broad a sound. It just makes it cuter. "Na!" He points at her.

"Very good, Baby!" you praise him. "That's Auntie Dana!"

"Na!" your son repeats, all four of you chuckling at him. You glance around the group and notice a few people glancing in the direction of the five of you. But one woman in particular is frequently glancing over, eyes not so much on the group as they are on Robby, who's standing next to you such that the front of him is visible to anyone looking over at you. You're quite sure she has to be Ro.

"I'm happy with Na. That's so good Honey, I'm proud of you!" Dana leans into Jack a little to tickle your son's tummy.

It pulls another chorus of giggled "Na!" from your son.

"What about Robby?" you ask him. "Robby. Uncle Robby." You point at Robby like you did with Dana.

Your son looks at you intently like he's listening and hums and babbles a little, but doesn't try Robby.

"Robby?" Jack prompts your son. "Uncle Robby. Robby."

Your son keeps babbling and looking between the four of you. It's pretty clear he's not totally sure about the word.

"Might be a little advanced for us when we've only been talking a week," Robby laughs.

"Yeah, we're going to have to figure something else out for a bit I think." You smile at Robby.

"Bee!" your son suddenly exclaims, clapping his small hands together as he looks at Robby. "Bee!" He points at Robby.

"Yeah!" Jack laughs. "That's Uncle Robby! Good job Kid! Look at you getting so many names today!"

"Bee!" your son says again. This time though he doesn't point at Robby. Instead he leans himself as far out of Jack's hold as he possibly can towards Robby and makes grabby hands at Robby.

You and Dana exchange a look, lips pressed together and eyes crinkled in adoration. Bee is pretty fucking adorable. And you can tell Robby loves it, loves the fact that he has his own unique name. He's misty eyed and you can tell he's fighting to not get fully teary when your son clearly wants to be held by him.

"Yeah?" Robby chuckles. "You want Bee?" He steps closer to Jack and takes your son from him who happily perches on Robby's side, babbling away and pulling at his shirt a little, almost going to chew it. When you lean in to stop him by pulling Robby's shirt away from his mouth he just drops Robby's shirt and starts chewing on his hand.

"Yeah," you draw out the word, "I thought so. He's starting to teeth again. Molars. It's not going to be a fun time when it really hits, Baby," you say with a small frown.

"Oh, buddy, yeah, that's not going to be fun," Robby shakes his head as he looks down at your son. He bounces him a little in his arms, making your son beam and laugh up at him through his hand in his mouth. "I bet Mama and Dada came prepared though."

Robby and Jack share soft, wistful smiles with each other at Robby calling Jack Dada.

Jack slips the backpack off his shoulder. He pulls out a couple of teething toys to offer your son who picks one and immediately begins chewing on it. "You want to give him some motrin now or wait a bit?" Jack asks you.

"Let's just do it now. Maybe we can prevent him from hurting." You give Jack a somewhat small smile and he gives you a sympathetic one back. He knows how hard it is for you to see your son in pain and it's hard for him too. "Can you hand me a burp cloth too so Uncle Robby's shirt doesn't get totally covered in drool?"

"Oh, it's fine if you don't have one, I don't mind," Robby says with a small shrug.

Jack pulls one out and hands it to you. While Jack measures out the motrin you help get the towel over Robby's shoulder and down his shirt enough on the side he's holding your son. It takes some persuasion but Jack gets your son to take the motrin without too much fuss and he has some water before resuming chewing on his toy while leaning in Robby's arm to look around.

"You see who was watching Robby?" you ask Dana under your breath as the five of you walk over to the group.

"I sure did, and that's her." She gives you a conspiratorial grin.

Jack wraps his arm around your side once you're really in with the group, which you appreciate immensely. You lean into him just a little to help ground yourself further.

"Alright everybody listen up!" Dana yells. A quiet settles over the group as everyone looks at her. "Group introduction to make this easier for us all." Dana asked a few days ago if you'd prefer something like this and as much as you hate being the center of attention, you felt like it was just easier. Dana points to you and says your name. "This is Jack's girlfriend. Please do not scare her away." Everyone laughs at that. She points to your son and says his name.

"Na!" he says back to her with a wide, fairly drooly smile. There's a few soft laughs and some awws from the group at it, drawing your son's attention back to the group.

Dana smiles brightly at him. "He's her son." She glances at you. "And this is Uncle Robby," Dana jokes, making Robby roll his eyes.

"Bee!" your son exclaims looking up at Robby again before he gives a big baby sigh and lets himself almost collapse and fall against Robby's chest with the softest thump, one hand holding his toy as he chews on it, his other hand reaching up and idly holding onto Robby's beard. It's fucking adorable.

You look up over your shoulder and exchange smiles with Jack. He squeezes your waist, a soft touch just to remind you he's here for you. You look out to the group and find Ro with her eyes glued to Robby, adoring smile on her face.

"Let's just go in a circle and say our names and whether we're day or night shift, or if we're a partner whose partner we are, okay?" Dana phrases it as a question but it's not really. Everyone is more than happy to cooperate though, and you quickly take in everyone's name, shift and relationships to the best of your ability. "Okay, thank you all." Dana says when Mel finishes the circle.

Everyone goes back to what they were doing and who they were speaking with. You, Robby and Jack get settled at one of the tables, Dana off to bowl with some of the others. People circulate and you meet them all a couple at a time, chat and get to know each other even if only a bit cursorily given the setting and how much there is to do at the bowling alley. You meet the day shifters who were working as they trickle in. You don't bowl though, wanting to be close to your son. Everyone is lovely, very kind and genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your son gets passed around as people come and sit and chat with you to his utter delight as he soaks in all the attention. When you can tell he's getting hungry and start to get some food out for him, Ro, who has him in her lap, feeds him for you. You don't think Robby's eyes leave her for more than a few seconds the entire time she has him.

At some point Jack gets asked to bowl with a group and you tell him he should go and you mean it. You feel comfortable enough to not need him next to you as a buffer, especially with Dana across from you.

You watch Robby and Ro together as they play in a group. And yeah, Dana and Jack are right. She's into him and they seem to flow well together, play off each other. The conversation appears, from what you can see, to flow easily between them. You don't see any awkward looking pauses or a struggle to come up with something to say.

The group eventually thins out as it gets later. Dana's off playing with a group and Robby and Jack are playing each other, passing your son back and forth as they take turns rolling. He seems to think it's a very fun game judging by all the giggles. You're back further, at a table by yourself and you're okay with it. You appreciate having a little time to yourself.

"Okay if I sit?" Ro asks as she approaches slowly. The two of you really hit it off earlier, exchanging phone numbers and talking about meeting up to hang out at some point.

"Hey, of course!" You smile at her. The two of you fall into conversation easily and you notice how she continuously glances over at Robby and Jack.

"So, how did you and Jack meet?" she asks.

You laugh a little. "My son was a patient of his. Which probably sounds kind of bad, but it's a whole thing. It was a slower night, I was a fucking mess, Jack was so good with him. Jack happened to have his dog tags in his pocket for some reason that night and it just like triggered me when I saw them. My husband died while deployed when I was ten weeks pregnant with him." You nod over at your son, smiling fondly at both your boys. "As a widower himself, and a veteran, Jack understood and we had a connection. I don't have any family or really any friends here so when my son was discharged he gave me his number in case I needed anything. I got quite sick a few weeks later and ended up texting Jack. He went all doctor on me and I had an IV and meds and slept for like twelve hours straight probably. Anyway, we became good friends after that. Kind of working towards more on my end, I just wasn't ready at that point. And then like three months after we met I told him I was ready and here we are a little over two months later."

"I am so sorry about your husband, wow. That must have been… You had to do everything by yourself, I can't even imagine." She gives you a sympathetic smile, seems to already know you well enough to know that you guys don't need to dwell on it and if she moves on you won't be offended. "I relate to the not having any friends or family here. Though, after nine months the Pitt is like a family and I'm pretty friendly with people, so I suppose I do."

"No significant other I take it?" you ask.

She gives a soft laugh. "No." As she says it she looks over at Robby who's currently holding your son while Jack bowls. It's perfect, giving you a reason to bring him up eventually.

You arch a brow and give her a knowing smile when she looks over at you. She gives you an almost embarrassed smile, knowing that she gave herself away.

"Those two are something else sometimes aren't they?" you joke, not making it about Robby yet. You watch as they playfully bicker with each other over something, making your son laugh in the process. Their competitiveness is coming out.

"I only really get to see them together at shift change or if we have something like this or whatever, but from what I'm seeing now, yeah," she laughs, "they certainly are."

You laugh with her and take a sip of your drink. "They're both great men."

"They are, yeah," Ro agrees. "And Jack is so good with your son. I wouldn't have known he wasn't Jack's biologically between the way he is with your son and the way your son is with him and calling him dada."

"I know, I'm really lucky. Jack loves him like he's Jack's own." You smile wistfully over at Jack, appreciating his side profile when he turns to smirk at Robby after he makes a strike. "Robby's great with him too. Jumped head first into the uncle role," you chuckle.

"Oh my god, that Bee thing when Dana was introducing you was so fucking cute. Your son is so comfortable with him, and the Bee nickname is so so cute." Ro grins as she looks over at Robby. "He'd be such a good dad."

"I know, right? He just started calling Robby that today. Between you and I, Robby got a little misty eyed at it, it was very adorable of him." You look over at the three again. "But yeah, he is really comfortable with Robby and he was pretty immediately, which is very rare for him. Guess Robby has a good vibe."

"Yeah, I guess," she says a little distractedly.

"So Robby?" You're wearing that knowing smile again when she looks at you.

"Ugh," she groans, putting her face in her hands for a moment. "That obvious?"

"I'm particularly observant, so maybe not to everyone," you try to reassure her.

"I feel like such a fucking teenager with a crush. And of course it has to be on my senior emergency med attending, who I swear to god I have every shift with. Like our schedules align." She shakes her head a little and lets out a long breath. "I need to find someone else to at least date to help me get over him. Wanna help me find someone?"

"Why do you need to get over him? How do you know he's not interested? Because just watching the two of you together tonight, there's clearly some chemistry there and it looked pretty mutual." You cock your head at her.

She shrugs. "I don't know, I just… I don't think he's into me like I'm into him. I've cooled it some because it started to feel a little pathetic but I was really flirting with him for a while and would get some back but he never made a move or whatever. If he was interested he would've."

You consider her words for a moment and nod slowly. "I think you'd be surprised at how oblivious men can be at times." You didn't ask Robby if you could say anything to her, so you're not going to reveal what you know.

She laughs at that. "Yeah, but, I don't know. Why would he be interested in me, you know? Even short term, let alone long term, which is what I'd want with him. Look at him."

You furrow your brows incredulously. "Look at him? Look at you! He should be so lucky as to have the chance to take you out, let alone ever call you his." She furrows her brows right back at you and gives you a look. "I'm serious. But fine, that aside. Would you ever ask him out?"

Ro snorts. "No. I couldn't. Just like me personally, my personality and anxiety, I'd never be able to. I wouldn't be able to risk the awkwardness. I'd have to switch to nights when he said no."

"But if he asked you out, you'd say yes?"

"Oh yeah, like embarrassingly quick too I'd imagine." She nods, rolling her eyes at herself.

"Do you trust me to talk to him?" You float the idea gently. If she says no you think you could still get Robby to ask her out.

"And say what, hey Ro has a big crush on you, do you reciprocate?" she jokes.

You really don't want to outright reveal Robby's equally big crush on her so you think about how you could phrase it such that she might infer that there's something requited. "Maybe Robby just needs some reassurance. Or some help in clearing some obliviousness."

Ro is quiet for a moment as she studies your face, her eyes narrowing. "You think he might be oblivious and think I'm not into him?" she asks incredulously.

You nod. "I think it's certainly a possibility." She looks so torn as she thinks about it. "Hey, if you don't want me to say anything to him, I won't. But I saw him with you today and I think based on what I saw between the two of you that you might be a little oblivious as to how into you he is."

"Really?" She's wide eyed and looking a touch apprehensive, more cautiously hopeful than anything. You nod again. "God, wow. I don't know. You know what, this is probably the liquid courage talking but fuck it, yeah. Yeah, if you don't mind, maybe he does just need someone to clarify things for him because it does feel like he's into me and it leaves me confused when he does nothing. So at least I'll know. But," she gives you a fake stern look, "if he's not actually into me you have to help me find someone."

You smile at her. "Deal." You jokingly stick your hand out and she follows, taking your hand and shaking on it.

"Hey, Ro!" Dana calls to her from one of the lanes. "You're up."

"Fuck, I promised I'd play with them the next game." She shakes her head at herself and downs her drink. "Hey, thank you. For you know… what you're going to do. And I really enjoy talking with you, we should definitely hang out sometime soon."

"I'd love that," you agree with a smile. "I'll text you."

"Ro!" Dana calls again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Ro calls back to her as she gets up and heads over.

As Ro leaves, Jack, Robby and your son finish their game and start walking over to you. You and Jack exchange looks and he knows by the smirk to your smile that he was right.

"Mama! Mama!" your son cries excitedly when he sees you, trying to launch himself out of Jack's arms into yours as Jack sits at the table.

"Hi Baby!" You grab him from Jack and kiss all over his face. "Have you been having a good time? It sure sounded like it!" You take the burp cloth from Jack and throw it over a shoulder, pretend eating your son's fingers when he sticks them near your face, a game he loves. You can't help but smirk at Robby and raise your eyebrows. "Sit."

"Oh god," he says fake nervously as he sits down.

"First," you start as you get your son situated on your lap and get him a fresh teething toy that he immediately starts chewing on, "who won?"

"Who do you think?" Jack asks smugly as Robby rolls his eyes.

"Aw, congratulations Sweetheart!" you say playfully, giving Jack a quick kiss.

"So…" Robby says.

"So. Jack and Dana are right." You shrug at Robby simply. "She's into you. It's obvious in how you guys interact and how she looks at you."

"See?" Jack smirks and tilts his head. "Oblivious," he tells Robby affectionately.

Robby sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know guys. She is her. You saw her. Do we really think she's into me?"

"Yes," you and Jack say at the same time.

"I mean maybe, but I'm not sure I want to risk a friendship and working relationship over a maybe," Robby sighs.

"No, no." You shake your head at him with a smile. "There's no maybe. I asked her and she said I could talk to you. I can tell you with certainty this is not a maybe. I know the feelings are reciprocated and that she's interested in something more than causal with you. She told me. And I point blank asked her, if Robby asked you out would you say yes, and she told me yes, she would."

Robby blinks at you for a second. "Oh."

Later that night once you're home, you and Jack are sitting on the couch, you curled into his side, drinking beer and cider while watching your show and cuddling. Your son was out the minute you got home after all the excitement on top of the teething. You both receive a text around the same time, Robby's text to Jack beating Ro's text to you by thirty seconds or so. They must have just parted.

Robby - You were right. About Ro

Ro - He asked me out!!!! You were right, he said he didn't think I could possibly be into him so that's why he never made a move!! You're going to have to help me pick out what to wear for our first date!

You and Jack look at each other and smirk. He raises his bottle to you. "To being right."

You chuckle and nod, clinking the neck of your bottle against his. "To being right."

A week later you hear Jack’s key in the deadbolt around 9:30 p.m on Friday. 

“Who is it?” you ask your son in an excited voice, pointing at the front door from where you’re sitting playing with him. “Who’s home?”

He looks at the door as Jack opens it, a huge smile taking over his face as soon as he recognizes Jack. “Dada, dada!” he squeals as he walks over to Jack. He’s pretty decent at walking now, but still tumbles sometimes and often prefers crawling because he can get around faster. “Dada, dada!”

Jack beams as he hears your son and sees him toddling over. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing that. And after today he needed to hear it.

Half way to Jack your son ditches walking for crawling so he can get to Jack quicker. Jack throws his scrub top off so that he’s in just his undershirt when he crouches down and waits for your son to get to him. “Hi Kid!” Jack grabs him and picks him up as soon as he’s close enough. “How are you?” Jack gives your son a couple of kisses to his cheek as he stands back up and then holds him closer, one hand cupping the back of your son’s head for a moment before Jack shifts him into one arm. 

You smile to yourself as you watch the two of them together. Jack looks exhausted, far more than usual. This was the last of four days on and he pulled a double today. He hadn’t been sleeping well going into the four days and that first night was a particularly rough one. You can’t quite put your finger on what it is exactly but something tells you that at least some part of the last twenty four hours was bad. Really bad.

You stand up and walk over to your boys. “Hi,” you murmur as you slide your arm around Jack's back and lean into his free side. 

"Mama, mama, mama!" your son exclaims excitedly, bouncing in Jack's arms as you join him and Jack.

Jack’s arm is quick to wrap around you and pull you into him even closer and he bends his head to nuzzle his nose against your hair and breathe you in. “Hi.” He pulls his head back up a little and slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling gently so you look up at him. 

You already know what he’s asking for, tilt your head before he has to say anything and lean up to meet him for a kiss. He keeps you there for a second, lets it linger and sucks on your bottom lip just a little before taking a few more kisses and letting you go. 

“I’m surprised he’s still up.” There’s a little pause and then a whisper under his breath you barely catch. “Really glad he is.” Jack walks into the living room, shifts your son again so that he’s holding him with both arms, keeps your son close. He sits in his usual spot on the couch. 

“He napped pretty late. Just wanted to keep going all day until he didn’t,” you laugh softly. “I’m going to go heat up some dinner for you, okay? Then you should sleep. You need it.” 

Jack nods, gives you a weak smile. “I couldn’t if I tried,” he shakes his head, still holding your son so close to him, as tight as he can without causing any discomfort or pain. “I need this time with him until he goes down. And with you.” His voice falters on ‘need.’

You know something happened, and with the way Jack is clutching your son you have a pretty good idea of what. “You want to talk about it?”

“Once he goes to bed,” Jack says softly, releasing your son when he starts to pull away so that he can see and grab at Jack. 

You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile and then head to the kitchen, making sure what you were keeping warm in the oven for him is hot enough.

You can’t imagine doing Jack’s job. Can’t imagine seeing everything he sees and then having to live with it on top of everything else in his life. You don’t think you’ve met someone stronger. He tells you that you’re the strongest person he knows all the time but you wonder if he ever considers how strong he is in that calculation. You know he doesn’t. 

You walk back into the living room with the food and a drink for Jack, smiling at him playing with your son on his lap. “You’re going to have to hand him over or set him down so you can eat, Jackie.” 

He makes a little noise of discontent but he knows you’re right. “You wanna go play some more?” Jack carefully sets your son down to see if he’ll ask to come back up or if he’ll go back to his toys. When he happily starts to go back towards his toys Jack looks back up at you and takes the food as you set the drink down on the end table. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” you murmur as you sit on the couch close to Jack. “I’m glad you’re off for a couple of days. You need to make up the sleep.” 

“Me fucking too,” Jack sighs between bites. The two of you watch your son play and entertain himself as Jack eats. “I don’t care about the sleep. I want time with you guys.”

“Busy last twenty six hours?” You want to rest your arm on the couch behind him and run your hands through his hair but you’re worried it might make him fall asleep with how much it seems to relax him at times. 

“Nonstop. It always is in a way, but this was nonstop traumas coming in and people walking in with injuries and illnesses far worse than they thought.” He takes a sip of the drink you brought him. “The last three though…” he trails off, shaking his head. 

You don’t ask anything further for now, knowing the two of you will talk at least some after your son goes down, which probably won’t be too long. You can see his play getting more subdued. 

“Thank you again,” Jack tells you when he’s done eating. He stands to go put his plate in the kitchen but you stand with him and take it from him.

“You’re welcome, and I’ve got it.” You smile at Jack and nod over at your son. “Go be with him. He’s getting sleepy.”

Jack smiles back at you. He loves the way you see him. How you see what he needs and give it to him to the best of your ability. He goes over and sits on the floor with your son and plays with him until he starts to lose interest and really just wants to cuddle and cling to Jack. Jack starts to read him some books, does all the voices and everything and your son is slowly lulled to sleep, grabbing for the pages of the books less and less until he’s out in Jack’s arms. You get it. You love Jack’s voice too, he could absolutely read you to sleep. 

The scene is still one of those that’s hard for you. You’re so glad your son has Jack in his life, you love watching the two of them together, love the way Jack loves your son like he’s Jack’s own. But that was supposed to be your husband. And a part of your heart yearns and longs for it to be your husband. 

Sometimes the cognitive dissonance hits hard and tears you apart and makes you spiral. Because how can you feel both? How can you love having Jack in your son’s life, love watching the two of them together, and how Jack loves your son like he’s Jack’s own but also almost wish you didn’t have that in a sense by longing for it to be your husband instead. You struggle with what to do with those conflicting emotions, how to reconcile them. It doesn’t seem fair to either Jack or your husband. 

You have to do your best to set it aside for the night because you know Jack needs you. So you focus back in the present, watch Jack stare down in wonder at your son as he rocks him gently to keep him asleep. You don’t need to see Jack’s eyes to feel the emotion in them. It’s palpable just by how he’s holding and looking down at your son. 

Jack’s having to focus on keeping his breathing steady to keep himself calm as he watches your son sleep. He’s so big now but still so small in Jack’s arms, so fragile. Life is fragile in general, few people know that as well as Jack with what he’s been through and what he sees at work. And tonight the fragility and smallness and innocence of your son is hitting him harder than it ever has before. 

“I don’t want to put him down.” Jack glances up at you. “I don’t want him out of my arms.” His voice is thick with emotion and if you didn’t already know what must’ve happened at work for him today, you definitely do now. “I can protect him here.” His voice falters a little and he looks back down at your son.

“I know,” you say softly, give him an empathetic smile. “Believe me, I know.”

Jack lets out a heavy sigh. “I should put him down.”

“Up to you.” You really don’t mind if Jack wants to hold him longer. You certainly have before. 

“If I don’t now I never will.” Jack throws you a look and you laugh a little in understanding. 

You walk over and grab your son from him to say goodnight to his sleeping form and so Jack can get up easier. “Goodnight Baby,” you murmur against his cheek, pressing another couple of kisses against his skin. “I love you.”

“I’m gonna grab a quick shower and change after and then I’ll be out, okay?” You nod and Jack gives your forehead a kiss before he grabs your son and heads off to get him changed and in pajamas and down in his crib. 

By the time you’re done with the dishes and tidying up the front room Jack is crutching back into the living room in a casual shirt and pajama pants and taking his usual seat on the couch. You watch the way he pulls his pant leg up and rubs his stump and does his skin checks as you walk to sit next to him, setting the monitor on the coffee table. “You should massage it.”

Jack shakes his head at you. “I can’t be asked.” 

“I know you’re sore,” you say softly as you sit in your usual seat next to him on the couch.

He looks over at you and smiles as he settles back into the couch. “It’s okay.” 

“Jack.” You give his arm a gentle squeeze. This isn’t something you’re going to push him on, but you want and need him to take care of himself. “You’ve been on for four days and just pulled a double. At least let me massage it while we talk.” 

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done so. Or even the second. You remember the first time well because it had been so intimate in its own way. It had taken a bit for him to let you help him again after that, for him to really teach you about his prosthetic and the pieces and taking it on and off and how to care for and clean his prosthetic and stump, for him to show you how best to massage it to help him get some pain relief. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not.” The smile you give him is so casual, like this isn’t a big deal at all, like it’s just a simple thing you’re doing for your boyfriend, no different than massaging his back or neck and shoulders after a long day. Like your acceptance and wanting to help and not being bothered or put off by it isn’t huge for him and doesn't mean more than he could ever express. “Are you okay with me grabbing the stuff?”

“Yeah,” he nods his head. “It’s on my nightstand.” It still throws him a little, how much you don’t mind and actually want to help him. 

“Okay, you lay back and get comfy while I grab it.” You squeeze his arm again and kiss his cheek before getting up and grabbing the salve from Jack’s room, your spare bedroom. 

When you get back Jack is spread out over the couch, head propped up with some pillows against the armrest, legs out. He moves his legs so that you can sit and you turn yourself toward him a little so that you can see him when you talk before he lowers his legs back, his stump nearly in your lap and his other leg draped over your lap and on the couch. 

You push his pant leg back up and open the salve and get some on your hands, rub them together a bit to get it warm and then start your massage. Jack lets out a long breathy groan at the feeling. It feels good, both physically having someone massage this sore part of his body and emotionally having someone who wants to take care of him, especially this part of him.

“I think you already know what it is.” He tilts his head at you with a slight frown.

You look at him and nod slowly. “I think I probably do, yeah.” 

“Is it okay? To talk about? I know you worry about him and I don’t want this to make things worse.” Jack really doesn’t. He’d rather not talk to you about this than have it trigger something for you and make you upset. 

“Thank you for asking.” You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I promise.” Jack gives you a slightly weary look. "I promise. And if it gets to be too much, I'll tell you."

Jack nods takes a few seconds before starting. “I haven’t lost a kid since we’ve been together. Today was the first one in a pretty good while for me. And don’t get me wrong, a kid of any age is hard. But of course it was a kid his age, and I don’t mean just a baby. I mean his age. Born three days before him.” You wince to yourself at his words, hands never stopping their massage, and Jack lets out a long shuddery breath. “Kids are always hard. All deaths are, but kids have always been harder. They are for most people.” 

He shakes his head a little, rolls his jaw as he tries to keep his emotions in check. “I thought I knew what that harder was, what harder felt like and then, and then you guys came into my life and I, I love him like my own and became like…"

"A parent," you fill in for him, sensing that he's not sure whether you'd be okay with that particular word in this context. You are. It feels strange sometimes for where you are in your relationship and the relatively short amount of time that's passed, but there's no denying Jack has a parental role in your son's life.

"I became like a parent," he nods, "and it changed things I guess, because jesus fucking christ.” Jack runs a hand through his hair and is quiet for a few seconds. You sense he has more to say so you give him time to gather his thoughts and recenter himself, hands continuing to glide with perfect pressure over his skin. “I haven’t had a patient death hit me that hard in a long fucking time. I had to go tell his parents and I selfishly wanted to fall apart with them. I didn’t. I haven’t and I won’t, but fuck. It hit me so fucking hard. I still feel vaguely nauseous.” 

“It’s okay to, Jack,” you murmur. “If you need to fall apart that’s okay. Anyone would after something like this.” 

Jack shakes his head. He’s not ready for that. He doesn’t want to fall apart even though he knows you're right and it's okay for him to. He doesn’t want the emotions. “It’s just three days, you know? Three fucking days apart. The same age. The same size. And it’s just so easy for my mind to conjure up the image of it being you, of it being us, and Robby or Heather or John or whoever taking us to a room and telling us. I feel like it’s all I’m going to see tonight if I can even fall asleep. And I really need to fucking sleep.”

You could cry just listening to Jack talk about it, for the life lost and his parents and Jack and all of the other staff who worked on him. You wish so badly that you knew what to say and could make it better for him, make him not hurt so bad. “I’m so sorry Jack,” you say softly. “It’s so incredibly awful, for everyone involved."

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s the job and I know it.” The look of guilt that pulls onto Jack’s face is heartbreaking. “I just wish we could’ve saved him.” 

“Jack,” you shake your head at him a little, almost pleadingly. “It’s not your fault. I know that you did everything you possibly could and that if you couldn’t save him nobody could.”

“He was nearly DOA, already arrested when he got to the hospital, but I tried fucking everything to be that one-tenth of one-tenth of one percent case where we got him back. Because I had to, I had to be able to look his parents in the eyes and tell them that I tried everything to save him.” The guilty look on Jack’s face only seems to intensify as he speaks, matching how the guilt he feels intensifies. He looks at you like he’s imagining having to tell you because he is. Because how could he not.

Jack closes his eyes and takes in a few breaths before opening them again. “I don’t know. It just… was hard. Really fucking hard.” 

“I’m sure it was more than really fucking hard, Sweetheart.” Jack shrugs listlessly at you and you frown. You’re not frowning at him, just at the situation. The world. You hate how much he’s hurting and how little there is you can do about it. And you hate how you can tell Jack thinks his reaction is out of proportion because it’s not. Not to you anyway. “You’re not being overdramatic for being this shaken, Jack,” you murmur.

“I just hate it,” Jack mumbles. “Some days I don’t know why I go back.” 

You take in a slow, deep breath through your nose. “For the ones you can save. And for the families of the ones you can’t.”

Jack lets your words wash over him for a few seconds before he nods. He wants to say something back but he doesn’t know what, seems to have run out of words. “Thank you.” His eyes flick to your hands and you move them so that he can sit up. “Can I have a kiss?” His eyebrows raise adorably as he asks.

“Of course. You can have as many as you’d like.” You slide over to him and into your normal spot on the couch and lean into him, let Jack seek out your lips. He takes kiss after kiss from you, keeps them shorter and chaste until you manage to suck on his bottom lip to get him to stay and silently tell him he can kiss you slower and deeper. Jack takes it, kisses you like it’ll fix whatever little piece of him broke tonight. And maybe it will. 

You nuzzle your nose against his for a second and kiss his forehead after you break apart for some air. Jack grabs the monitor and wakes it to check in on your son, smiling at the position he’s sleeping in and showing you. 

“He’s crazy,” you chuckle, shake your head a little. 

Jack chuckles in agreement and sets the monitor back down. He slips his phone out of his pocket and starts looking at photos of your son, watches a few videos as you lean into him and watch with him. Some are of you and your son, but there’s a couple of him and Jack that you’ve taken and sent to him, lots of dada and mama videos, one of Jack holding his hands and helping him toddle around the playground shortly after he started walking, your son belly laughing as Jack pops him in a swing and starts pushing him from the front so the two can look at each other. 

You smile to yourself at the memories and at Jack watching the videos to comfort himself like you do sometimes. 

“He’s so funny,” Jack laughs softly, letting out a big breath. “He’s perfect.” Jack’s whispering now as tears sting at his eyes. “Three days.” He looks at you hopelessly, eyes glassy with tears that are close to falling. He shakes his head and shrugs. “Three fucking days. And they looked so fucking similar, same eye color, same size. I know we have the t-shirt that baby was wearing and I, I couldn't fucking save him. I couldn't fucking save him.”

Jack finally gives in to the day and his feelings and hot tears stream down his face. He brings his hands to his face to muffle the small sob he can’t keep down. He feels so fucking ridiculous for this. This reaction is completely out of proportion. Jack knows that his exhaustion is playing a large role here, finally at a point where it’s fried his ability to regulate his emotions anymore. But still. He’s not those parents, your son is safe and healthy and asleep in the next room down and you’re here with him. It's too much, an unfair reaction on his part.

And yet he’s still sitting on the couch crying in front of you, giving you one more thing to deal with. He shouldn’t have even told you, he knows this has to be so beyond triggering for you. When the two of you met you were so scared of something happening to your son, held him so close and said that nothing could happen to him. And here he is shoving something happening to a kid damn near his literal exact age right into your face. He should have just asked Robby or Dana to sit with him and listen to him vent for a little bit before coming home. 

But more generally too, how many times can Jack ask you to do this with him? How many times can he ask you to hold him while he cries over shit neither of you have any fucking control over? Or shit he could avoid needing to cry over if he changed jobs? How many times can he ask before it starts to push you away? Before it’s too much and you can’t deal with it or him anymore? And then he’ll just have nothing again. He won’t have your son. He won’t have you. 

As soon as Jack starts crying you’re reaching for him. “Come here, Sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Jack lets himself fall into you, buries his head in your neck and clutches at your shirt as you wrap your arms around him, one hand rubbing his back while the other cradles the back of his head. “I, I, I’m sorry,” he finally manages to choke out through his tears. You immediately know what he means, all of the things he’s trying to apologize for to you and the universe and those parents.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Jack, you’re allowed to feel your emotions with me, however that might look. Whenever and however often you need to, okay?” You kiss the top of his head, let your fingers start to scratch at his scalp gently and rock him a little. “It’s not going to be too much. You’re not being overdramatic. And I’m really glad you spoke to me about it, I know you’re probably upset with yourself for talking to me about it because it was a kid his age, but it’s okay, I promise. I’d have told you if it wasn’t. I want to be here for you. Thank you for letting me be.”

He cries a little harder for a second at your words, a stronger sob wracking his body because you know him so well, can nearly read his mind. You got all of that just from him saying sorry.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur to him when he tries to speak again. “Just be. Let yourself do this, okay?” You continue to kiss at the top of his head, nuzzle your nose into still slightly damp curls. 

Jack does. He lets himself cry into you, doesn’t try to fight it. He’s not really sure he could even if he wanted to, but there’s a different kind of peace and catharsis that comes from just accepting you need to cry and letting yourself. In giving up the fight against the emotions that want to overwhelm you.

He’s not sure how much time has passed but his tears eventually stop. Jack doesn’t know if they fade away with a kind of acceptance or if he just runs out of them. He can’t bring himself to move. He doesn’t want to move. He would never ask and he completely respects you and where you are and that you’re not ready and why you’re not ready and he doesn’t hold it against you, but fuck Jack wishes you were ready to sleep in the same bed together. Just sleep. Nothing else. Just be close and sleep next to each other. Because he could fall asleep here like this. He could fall asleep with you next to him. He doesn’t think an empty bedroom is going to do it tonight. Like it hasn’t really for the last week. 

He’ll just have to make do. Eventually exhaustion will force him to get some sleep or maybe he’ll take some benadryl. 

You notice how drowsy he gets in your arms, know it's not just the tiredness and resignation that can hit once you stop crying hard. You really hope it'll translate once he's in bed, that he'll be able to fall asleep and sleep hard for at least twelve hours. But you know that's unlikely to happen, that he'll be plagued by nightmares and that, like he said, this is all he's going to see when he closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

Jack finally forces himself to pull away from you. Your neck is a mess where he cried into you so he brings up part of his shirt and wipes it clean. "Sorry," he murmurs.

"Don't be. I'm a mom, it doesn't bother me." You run a hand through his hair and use the thumb of your other hand to wipe away some of the tear stains that streak his cheeks. You give him a sympathetic smile and lean in for a soft kiss. It's not the first time you've comforted him with a kiss but it's something that Jack hasn't had in so long and he needs it, he really fucking needs it and you give it to him. "You wanna talk more?" you murmur after you pull away.

"No. I don't think there's anything left to say," Jack sniffles. "I think I just needed that to process. To talk and then cry. So thank you."

"Of course," you nod, "always, okay? I meant it. Whenever and however often you need it."

"I know, thank you." He steals another kiss from you. "You wanna watch an episode?" Jack asks as he sits back up properly in his seat, lets his hand linger on your thigh, just above your knee. But it's tentative, he's not truly resting it there. He's waiting to see if you're okay with it.

You put your hand over his and press down a little to tell him it's okay. "You should get some sleep Jack. You really need it."

He nods. "I know, and I will. But if you're up for it I'd really like some time with you. Time that isn't me venting about work and then crying into you again."

"Of course I'm up for it. I'm always up for time with you." You slip your fingers through his and squeeze gently.

"Thank you." Jack nods and grabs the remote, puts on what the two of you are currently watching together. You cuddle into him pretty close and the two of you laugh at the show and talk about random things it makes you think of.

The strain of exhaustion grows clearer and clearer in Jack's voice though and you hate it. And you hate the thought of suggesting bed and almost taking yourself away from him when it's clear he needs comfort. But you're not ready to sleep in bed together. For you it feels like it would be such a huge jump from the cuddling you guys do on the couch, even with as close as you get sometimes. There's something that feels more intimate about cuddling in a bed together.

But an idea strikes you. Maybe this way he can get a little sleep and relax himself enough that when he goes to bed he'll be able to fall asleep right away. "Can we try something?"

"Course." It's almost mumbled and Jack's eyelids are so heavy when you move from his side and look at him. Combined with how guilty he still looks and how almost scared he seems at the prospect of trying to sleep and actually falling asleep and having nightmares, your heart breaks a little.

You grab the monitor, your phone and the remote and move to the other corner of the couch and recline it so that your feet are out in front of you and you can lay back a little if you want. You set the monitor on that end table, put the other blanket over your legs and then prop yourself up with a pillow and put another in your lap. “Come here.” You pat the pillow. 

Jack furrows his brows. "You sure about this?" It's not like that much of you will be touching but it's still his head in your lap.

"I am, yeah." You appreciate the way he checks, know it's not him second guessing you but giving you that extra second to think about it.

"I don't want to fall asleep on you." He's already moving while he says it, stretching himself out on the couch and putting the other blanket over himself.

"I'll just wake you if you do," you murmur, smiling to yourself as Jack lays on his side facing the TV and getting his head comfortable on the pillow in your lap.

"Okay." He's already getting properly about-to-fall-asleep drowsy again.

You start running your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp every now and then before going back to running your fingers through the salt and pepper strands that make it hard to breathe sometimes. Your other hand rubs the back of his neck and you can feel him growing more and more relaxed. It makes you smile. The two of you continue to talk idly for a few minutes as you keep watching the show, but Jack's eyelids grow heavier and heavier with each blink.

Your hands in his hair and rubbing the back of his neck and the way he knows he's got his head in your lap really do him in. "Thank you again for listening and massaging," he mumbles sleepily.

"You're welcome," you whisper. "Just let yourself fall asleep Jackie." You keep your hands as they are and it only takes a couple of more minutes before Jack's breathing evens out and he fully sags into you and the couch, finally asleep.

You pull his blanket up over him a bit more and change the TV to something you don't normally watch with him. Your plan is to wake him in a couple of hours, hope that he can get into bed and pass back out. You don't bother setting an alarm because you're not feeling particularly tired yourself.

But you don't account for the weight of even just Jack's head and shoulders in your lap and the heat he gives off and how comforting it ends up being. And so before you even realize it, you're out too.

You and Jack stir around the same time in the morning, your son babbling to himself a bit through the monitor. Jack shifted at some point in the night, rolling so that he's facing you. You still have a hand in his hair but your other hand is covered by his where it rests on the pillow.

"Fuck," Jack mumbles, voice still thick with sleep as he blinks his eyes open. "Did we spend all night out here? I’m sorry."

"It appears we did," you hum. "Don’t be sorry though. You needed the sleep and I don't even remember falling asleep so clearly I was comfortable." Your hand in his hair starts to run through it and your heart skips a beat at the way Jack closes his eyes and hums as he leans into it a little. "Did you sleep well? Any nightmares?"

"No. None." He opens his eyes back up. "Yeah, I can't remember the last time I slept that well actually. I feel like a whole different person already and I'm not even all the way awake yet." 

"You should go try and sleep more. You have a lot to catch up on," you say softly.  

Jack lets out a long breath. "I’ll nap when he does."

"Okay." You raise your eyebrows at him and give him the best serious look you can muster. "But you better." 

"I will," he nods, "promise."

"Good." As he often does, your son has settled himself back down, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. You laugh to yourself when the monitor goes quiet. You look at Jack and tilt your head. "How about I make some breakfast and you stay here and doze or at least rest?" Jack gives you an amused look and you huff at him. “Okay, I can make pancakes and eggs and whatever other breakfast stuff we have in there, thank you very much.” 

“I know, I just like teasing you.” You roll your eyes at him affectionately and giggle a little. The sound is a tipping point for Jack and he carefully sits up, your hand slipping from his hair as he brings his face closer to yours.

Jack brushes his thumb over your lips and leans in and kisses you softly. It's quotidian. Like a quick good morning kiss, a kiss when you pass each other in the kitchen, or a kiss when one of you hands your son over to the other. But it leaves you both smiling.

You keep Jack close when he starts to pull away a little, wrap your arms around him and pull him back to you so that you can kiss again. That kiss turns into another which turns into another which turns into making out on the couch, your hands running up and down Jack's back and upper arms while Jack braces on his forearms a little so that you don't take all of his upper body weight in this position.

“Is this okay?” Jack whispers against your lips about a minute or so in, pulling away just enough for his eyes to scan your face looking for hesitation or discomfort or any sign you're unsure. You've made out before of course, but this is different.

You know what he’s asking. Is it okay to be kissing how you are with him still half laying in your lap and your chests pressed together. “More than.” You smile at him, and your smile and you already starting to chase his lips is all Jack needs to bring himself back to you and kiss you again.

You and Jack make out until you're breathless. He can't help but tease you just a little when you break apart to get some air. “I thought you were making breakfast and I was dozing or resting.”

“You wanna stop?” you breathe, raising your eyebrows and smirking at him teasingly.

“Fuck no.” He leans back in for another kiss to show you just how much he doesn't want to fucking stop.

“Then soon. I’d like to keep doing this for now. Just this,” you murmur. You’re not ready to go any further at the moment but you like this. Being close on the couch and making out. And you know Jack would absolutely never try to escalate things without asking first, making sure you were truly okay with it, but you try to communicate with him, let him know where you’re at. He appreciates it more than you know because he never wants to make you uncomfortable or feel pressured to do more. He’ll wait for you, for as long as you need.

You can feel Jack smile against your lips. “I’d like to keep doing just this too.”

Another two weeks pass in the blink of an eye, you and Jack continuing to get closer in every sense.

Things seemed to change a little after that night Jack slept with his head in your lap on the couch. Jack immediately noticed you being a little more touchy and physical and asked to talk about it one night, wanting to make sure you weren't feeling pressured somehow or like things had to change or progress just because of that one night. He wanted to confirm where you were at and what you were okay with the two of you doing and him doing or initiating. It had been a good conversation and it made you somehow appreciate Jack and his consideration and care and the way he puts your comfort above all else even more.

That night had ended with you laying on top of Jack on the couch making out, your hands threaded through his hair and his hands staying locked on your waist. A lot of nights since have ended like that. Your cuddling on the couch has intensified too, with Jack often laying spread out on the couch with you on top of him, head on his chest, lower body between his legs. Sometimes it's the opposite, especially on nights Jack worked the morning of, where you lay out on the couch and he rests on top of you, head on your chest, lower body between your legs. You make out like that sometimes. Sometimes you do it sitting up or with you in his lap.

You'd gotten more comfortable and now Jack's hands roam your back and over your hair, and only there, where you told him you were comfortable, when you make out. You'd never be able to articulate how much you love and appreciate that when you proverbially give Jack an inch, he takes the inch and absolutely nothing more. If anything he doesn't even take the entire inch, still checking in with you, mostly with looks at this point, to make sure you're okay and comfortable.

And when you ask to stop or aren't up for something you guys have already done Jack stops immediately and never pressures you, never says something like, but we've done this before. The same is true of you when Jack has moments or a day of heavy grief or whatever that makes him not want to do certain things. There's never any guilt tripping from either of you. Just acceptance and reassurance it's okay and offers to help or listen or do whatever the other wants or needs.

For some reason you feel particularly close to him tonight, want to be particularly close to him. It's Friday and the two of you had gone on a fairly short casual dinner date while Robby watched your son. You're laying on the couch together now, Jack sprawled across it with you on top of him. You both have kiss swollen lips and are still catching your breaths a little from making out as you settle your head back on his chest.

It's late enough now that both of you are growing sleepy. "Sweetheart?" Jack asks as he runs a hand up and down your back.

"Yeah?"

"We should both probably head to bed before we fall asleep out here," he murmurs.

"Probably," you hum. You don't really want to move though. You don't want to leave Jack. It makes you think.

You sigh a little as you force yourself up, grabbing a kiss from him on the way up that makes him smile. You grab some water from the kitchen and the monitor while Jack turns off the TV and blows out the candle you had lit to scent the air and give some ambiance. Once only the hall light remains on as Jack crutches down to your bedroom door with you to say goodnight like he always does.

You share a few kisses and a long, tight hug before separating. "Night, Jack."

Jack gives your forehead a kiss and takes one last kiss from you, smiling down at you when he pulls away. "Night, Sweetheart."

You don't open your door and walk in. Instead you just stand in front of it thinking. Your mind races and your heart quickly follows suit. You look over at Jack as he hits the door to his room.

“Hey Jack?” 

“Yeah?” He turns his attention to you from the door to the guest room, his hand on the door handle. 

You clear your throat and look down for a moment. You want this, you truly, truly do. You've been thinking about it every night since Jack slept with his head in your lap on the couch. You've been together for three months now. It’s just hard to summon the courage to get through all of the emotions and bring yourself to ask him. You shut your eyes and take in and let out a deep breath before opening them and looking at Jack.

“Do you… Um, would you, uh. Would you like to sleep in here with me? In my, in my bed? Just sleep. And cuddling and, and being close like on the couch. Just that for right now. It’s okay if you don’t want to though, and if it’s too much too soon for you, being ready isn’t just about me.” You’re internally cringing at yourself so hard. You’re a mess asking this, tripping over your words and punctuating your sentences with nervous laughter. “But if you were ready, I would really like for you to. If you want and would like that. So, yeah. Would you like to sleep in my bed with me?”

I hope you enjoyed and it was okay! I love to hearing your thoughts and comments! All of your interactions give me so much joy and inspiration! And as always thank you for all your support and for reading!! ♥️

Again, I still have a lot of ideas for these two and hope you're ready and would like more of them!

Want more Jack? Check out my masterlist here!

Want to be added to my Jack tag list? Interact with this post!

Interact with this post if you'd like to join my Robby tag list, and this post if you'd like to join my Andrew Pope Cody tag list! Each tag list is separate, so be sure to interact with each post for each character you'd like to be tagged for!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Tag list:

@loveyhoneydovey @love-affair-with-fandoms @mstrsgoodgrl0628 @equallyshaw @kmc1989 @artsymaddie @moonshooter @whiskeyhowlett-writes @smallcarbigwheels @hawkswildfireheart @blackwidownat2814 @viridian-dagger @andabuttonnose @beebeechaos @pear-1206 @starkgaryan @travelingmypassion @marvelcasey05 @daydreamingallthetime-world @millenialcatlady @nursejuju86 @escapefromrealitysm @emilia527 @satanxklaus @frazie99 @kastleandmurdock @guardiancardigan @zoctopiii @4rosabellaa @adissapointmentlol @nowandajenn @book-of-roses @redzscare @concentratedconcrete @freshbearbouquetblr @qardasngan @practicalghost @wolviehugh @athena1504 @iamcryingonceagain @acn87 @moonpascal @lostfleurs @beltzboys2015-blog @pouges-world @roseanddaggerlarry @lauraneedstochill @robbyrobinavitch @shesaidshemight

[beautifulandvoid]

Fic inspired by my toddler being a toddler:

You and Jack sat on bench sharing ice cream, your legs draped over his lap. The air was warm and humid, his shirt was sticking to his biceps and his curls were especially defined.

“Wanna trade?” You asked after asking for a lick of his cone, cookies and cream was his go to.

“Not particularly?”

You flashed your doe eyes and he turned away “No! You should have thought about that before ordering honey pistachio, grandma.”

“I was feeling adventurous.”

“Okay, well stop that.”

“Fine.” You slumped back, taking your legs out of his lap and crossing your arm over your stomach. He wasn’t letting up.

The park was busy, the basketball and tennis courts full. Kids screamed and giggled on the swings. The two of you sat in silence, mainly because you were giving the silent treatment— when suddenly a boy no older than 4 screamed in passing:

“Mama, why does he got that?” Pointing directly at Jack and his prosthetic. The mother flushed and immediately scolded her son.

“Honey we do not point at others. Sir, I’m so sorry.” She apologized.

Jack motioned with his head for the pair to come over. He handed you his ice cream cone and bent down to the kids level.

“Don’t apologize, kid’s just curious. This is called a prosthetic.”

“A profetic?”

“Close enough— you know how you and your mom have two feet?” The boy nodded. “I only have one. So this helps me walk and run around. I put it on every morning when I wake up and take it off before I go to bed.”

Without hesitation, Jack slipped off his socket and showed the boy his missing foot. His eyes shot open tenfold and reached out to touch. His mother pulled him back a bit.

“Don’t touch honey.”

“It’s okay— go ahead buddy, you can touch if you want.” And the boy did. Tracing his fingers along the titanium.

“Why’d it fall off?” The boy asked innocently.

“Well, mine didn’t fall off. I was in a really bad accident and my foot got really, really hurt. The doctors tried to fix it but couldn’t. So they used special tools to remove it.”

“Like a hammer?”

“Probably.”

You chuckled at his sarcastic response, although he was probably not wrong, orthopedics is basically carpentry for your bones.

“But not everyone who has a prosthetic arm or leg got in an accident like I did.” Jack continued. “Sometimes people may get very, very sick, and their arm or leg needs to be taken off so they’ll get better again. Sometimes people are born with one arm or leg, or none at all. That’s called amelia.

“My sisters name is Amelia!”

You and Jack both belly laughed. The boys mother face palmed.

“Is it now?“ Jack wiped a tear from the inner corner of his eye as he continued to laugh.

“Can you run fast with that on?”

“Well, I have another one of these at home that I use just for running.” Jack stood up, “see if I jump on this leg” he began to hop on one foot “I kinda bounce a bit because my ankle bends. But if I try to jump on my prosthetic, I don’t really bounce, so that makes running with this one kinda hard.”

Jack demonstrated for the boy so he could see the difference.

“Thats why I have my running blade, It kinda looks like the letter J.”

“Jack starts with J! That’s my name!” The boy squealed.

“My name is Jack too! Good taste, mom. Unlike my girlfriend who got honey pistachio ice cream.” Your mouth fell open in offense.

He gave little Jack a fist bump before challenging him to a race. The two of them running up and down the walking path—big Jack letting little Jack win.

Your stomach fluttered as you watched him interact with the kid. The two of you had talked about children briefly, his fears of not being a good enough father weighed heavily on him. Clearly he had no issues on that front as you watched Jack answer all the kids questions and help ease his mother’s embarrassment.

The two of them parted ways and said their goodbyes. He sat back down next to you on the bench and you looped your arm around his bicep. He reached out to grab the ice cream cone he handed to you. When you handed it back his face fell.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You ate mine?”

[beautifulandvoid]

A House all Our Own

It’s not even close to your alarm going off when you wake up to the sound of someone rustling around somewhere else in the house. You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but you could even hear the way the person would swear quietly every time they made a noise that they thought was too loud. You knew that voice and couldn’t help letting out a quiet chuckle even as you got out of the bed.

“Hey, Cowboy,” You murmur with a sleepy smile, dressed in one of his t-shirts that was too big for you, going down just past your ass.

“What are you doing out here?

“Shit, did I wake you up? M’sorry darlin’. I tried to be as quiet as I could.” Rhett stands up from where he had been crouched in front of a cardboard box.

You wave your hand noncommittally. “It’s okay, what are you doing?” You ask, nodding toward one of the boxes on the ground that Rhett had just been rummaging in.

“I’m just…” He looks around at all the half-unpacked boxes. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get us going on unpacking the rest of our crap.” He chuckles.

You frown. “Hey, it’s not crap, it’s ours, just like this house is ours,” you smile, taking a few steps toward him.

He matches your steps until he’s close enough to wrap his arms around you, and you can press your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “You’re right, it’s all ours.”

After months of arguing back and forth about Rhett moving out of his parents' house, he finally agreed, and now the two of you have your own little place. Rhett’s relationship with his family was complicated, so there was a compromise. Your new little house was at the edge of the Abbotts’ land, not fully gone but not living together, the best of both worlds. Now came the worst part, unpacking.

“You want some help?” You ask softly, not pulling away from his warm body. You could feel the way that he moved, obviously looking around the room again at all the mess.

“Nah,” He answers, kissing the top of your head. “It can wait until tomorrow. Let’s get back to bed.”

You smirk, finally pulling back from him. “If you still can’t sleep, maybe I should show you how loud you can be when you live alone,” You say, taking his hand and leading him back toward your bedroom, the only room in the whole house that had been fully unpacked.

[beautifulandvoid]

Quiet Part 3

Widower!Jack Abbott x Widow Single Mom!Reader

Part 1 can be found here and Part 2 can be found here!

16.4k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: Jack being domestic; shy reader; I once again made up shit about the layout of PTMC a little; grief; angst; reference to past pregnancy; reference to past miscarriages but no graphic descriptions, just a mention they occurred (reader does not actively experience one in the fic); discussions of loss of spouse; anxiety; light body image issues/lack of confidence for reader; Jack was in the army; reader's husband was in the army and died while deployed; discussions of loss of spouse; mild self hate; Shakespeare; no use of Y/N or related.

Summary: You meet Dana and Robby, you and Jack go on a date, and your son says his first word.

AN: I went ahead and split what was all just going to be Part 3 into Parts 3 and 4, so Part 4 should follow pretty soon after this. We're getting towards some of the plans I have for them that I'm really looking forward to writing! I love domestic Jack with a baby, I really do. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! ♥️

Jack’s already turning and starting to half run in the direction of your son’s cry when his phone vibrates. You’re calling him. Fuck. 

But before he can even answer, the doors open as Mateo brings someone back and Jack sees you standing there holding your son, phone held to your ear by your shoulder as you bounce your son. You look like you’re in distress.

Jack’s close enough that he doesn’t have to totally yell. “Hey!” He calls just loudly enough to get your attention, beckoning you through the doors as he runs over to meet you by them, hands holding the ends of his stethoscope around his neck, ready to put it on in seconds. His call is loud enough to get Dana and Robby’s attention and when they both see Jack running, a visibly distressed you, and your crying son they start to walk over slowly, feeling out if they’re needed. 

You grab your phone and hang up, make it through the doors without Jack having to reopen them. “Hey, look who it is,” you say softly to your son, showing him Jack as you meet just beyond the doors. 

“What’s wrong? Which one of you is it?” Jack’s eyes are wild, full of worry and his breathing a little heavier than normal. Your son is already reaching for Jack and settling down but he holds off on taking him in case he needs his arms free for you. 

“What?” you shake your head a little, brows furrowed. Then it hits you. Where you are. “Oh!” You start shaking your head. “Nothing, no, neither of us, we’re fine, sorry! I'm so sorry!” Dana and Robby overhear and move back to the hub. 

Jack lets out a relieved breath and takes your son from you in one arm and pulls you into him by the waist for a hug. You smile as you hug him back with one arm, the other rubbing your son’s back. You rest the side of your head on his chest. “Heart’s racing,” you murmur, “you okay?”

“Yeah. I am now.” He lets out another breath as he kisses the top of your head before the two of you pull apart. “I just heard him crying like that and then you called and I saw you looking upset and it’s an ED. So I went straight to something was wrong.” Jack hasn’t even noticed how he’s swaying from hip to hip a little to help soothe your son who's now mostly calm. "Can I kiss you?"

The question catches you a little off guard. Not in a bad way or one that makes you uncomfortable. You just know this is Jack’s work and weren't sure if he was ready to go this public because you know everyone in the ED will know by the end of the day. "Yeah, of course."

Jack leans down and kisses you, short and sweet and chaste. It's the most natural thing. 

“I’m really sorry, Jack," you apologize as you separate. "I didn’t mean to make you worry. He has his well baby one year appointment upstairs in like twenty minutes. I had to wake him up so he was mad. Then I thought the appointment was thirty minutes earlier than it actually is while getting ready and for half the journey here and he can always tell when I’m stressed and it makes him stressed so he was just mad at me. And then I was just so flustered by everything that I came in this way and so I figured I’d try calling you to see if you could just let me in this way so I didn’t have to walk around.”

“Don’t apologize,” he shakes his head at you. “All that matters is everyone’s okay. It’s just been a long night and I forgot he had the appointment and that that was why I didn't have to leave right on time.” He looks down at your son who’s now quiet and happily playing with the chest piece of Jack’s stethoscope. “Tell mommy you’re not mad at her,” he says to your son in a soft baby voice, “you just wanted to sleep in today and don’t like when she’s stressed.” 

Your son smiles at Jack and then at you, giggling and clapping the hand not holding onto the chest piece against it. You and Jack laugh with him and smile at each other. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.” You nod and Jack’s hand finds the small of your back as he starts to guide you over to the right elevator.

“Dana and Robby at the desk?” you murmur to him as you walk by. 

Jack glances over. “Yep.” He clicks his tongue. “They’re excited for Friday.” You're officially meeting Dana and Robby Friday night. They're coming over to your place for dinner.

“I am too.” You nod. “Nervous.” 

Jack turns so that he’s facing you when you get to the elevator. “I understand. But try not to be.” 

You look up at him. “They’re important people in your life. What if they hate me?”

Jack gives you a knowing smile. “They won’t, Sweetheart. I know them and I know you and I’m very, very sure they won’t. They already like you.”

“I hope,” you murmur before looking at your son. “Alright Bud, come see mommy.” You hold your hands out for him and he half leans out of Jack’s, one hand reaching for you but the other dropping Jack’s stethoscope and holding onto his scrub top tightly. “Gotta come all the way here my love.” You tickle his tummy before trying to take him from Jack. 

He lets go of Jack’s top and curls into you. But his hand still reaches for Jack. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Jack leans in and kisses at your son’s fingers to make him smile before hitting the button to call the elevator. “Text me when you’re done, yeah?”

You nod. “I will. And remember I’m off today too. I like being with him after vaccines.”

“Alright Sweetheart, I’ll see you.” Jack steals a quick kiss from you and presses one to the top of your son's head. "Bye Bud, be good!" He watches you walk on the elevator, waving at your son. 

But as soon as your son sees Jack waving and you moving away from Jack and Jack not following he starts to whimper and cry a little. Jack instinctually moves his arm across the elevator door so that it won’t close. You walk back out of it and your son calms down, reaches for Jack again. 

Jack looks at you before taking your son. He knows you need to be getting to the appointment. Only once you nod and shift your son in your arms so he can go to Jack does he take him. Your son hangs onto your shirt this time. It’s obvious he wants both of you.

The entire situation makes you a little breathless. Because you can’t lie to yourself. Jack’s worry, the way he ran to you, his drive to care for you and your son, his protectiveness, the way he instinctively shot his arm out to stop the elevator from closing at the whimper of your son, it’s all incredibly incredibly attractive. It’s hot. It makes you want him. You still struggle at times accepting that you’re sexually attracted to someone else and are allowed to be. It can make you spiral at times. This isn’t one of those times but the thoughts still flicker in your mind and help fluster you. 

“Well…” you clear your throat. You don’t know why you’re still so awkward at times, so flustered by him and how intense and caring and attractive he is. He’s your boyfriend for christ’s sake. You kiss him. You’ve cried into his chest. More than once. He’s cried into yours. You’ve sat in his lap. And yet he still has the ability to, sometimes quite easily, fluster you. “Do you want to come with us? Or could you?”

Jack blinks at you for a moment. He is very much still affected by you of course, but things relating to your son always fluster him to varying degrees too. Because he knows how meaningful it is. What a privilege it is. How special and how much it means you trust him. Yes, it’s just a doctor’s appointment but it’s more than that. It’s a family thing. Something your husband might have gone to you with. It’s parental in a way. Fatherly. He doesn't take that lightly and he always watches you a little closer to see how much it flares your grief.

He’s done a lot that’s parental in a sense, that’s fatherly, but this feels so different. Maybe it’s just that it really highlights it. The kind of role Jack has here with your son. How it’s going to grow as your son gets older. When he can talk. He’s been aware of it, of course, but something about this gives it a greater presence in his mind. 

“I’m sorry,” you try to force a laugh with the words and hold your hands out for your son, “just forget I asked, I know it’s too much too soon-”

“No! No, not all.” He gives you a little smile and hits the elevator button again. “I was just thinking and making sure I was good to leave and had handed everything off.”

“You sure?” you whisper. 

“I’m sure if you are. I know this is-”

“I’m sure.” You nod at him and match his smile. “And this way if anything is wrong you’ll be there and understand it much better than me.”

You and Jack walk onto the elevator when the doors open. It’s really a bit of an awkward shuffle since your son is still holding onto your shirt so you and Jack have to be close. But once you’re both on your son seems to relax and lets go, content in his belief you’re not going anywhere. 

“I really don’t think anything will be wrong,” Jack assures you as he brings his free hand and tickles your son’s tummy a little.

You let out a small sigh as you step off the elevator and walk towards the skyway connecting the inpatient side of the hospital to the more outpatient side. “I know, I just worry, you know?” Your voice is a little small and Jack knows. He knows you mean you think you worry more than the average parent because of your husband. 

“I do, yeah. That’s part of why I give his heart and lungs a listen every now and then, check his lymph nodes. Little things like that.” Jack glances over at you with a little smile. "I just worry, you know?"

“You do?” 

“Yeah,” he nods slowly. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, I can stop.”

“No! No, it’s not weird at all, I just didn’t even think about the fact that you could.” You smile at him as you near the office. “I appreciate it. I… The way you love and care for him is something I really don’t take for granted and I hope you know that. Because you don’t have to do any of this, any of what you do for him and us and me. A lot of men wouldn’t."

You don't say it but you think about how a lot of men who physically get far more than you're able to give Jack wouldn’t and don’t do what Jack does for you so happily and without fuss, or that they do but then expect something in return or exert pressure for something physical as a reward. And Jack doesn't. He goes so far out of his way to make sure you don't feel pressured, reminding you at times that you don't owe him and he doesn't expect anything from you and checking that you really want whatever it is you're about to do.

"I know you know that and want to do what you do, I just want to make sure you know that I recognize that I’m,” you run a hand over your son’s hair, “that we’re very lucky to have you and that I appreciate you.”

“I know you do.” The two of you slow as you near the office. “I know you appreciate me, I promise."

"Good, I'm glad you know.” You stop walking just to the side of the office door so you’re not blocking anyone going in or out. Being outside the office reminded you. “I have a question, one you can genuinely say no to, it would be okay if you did.” Jack’s brows furrow a little and he nods.

You take in a deep breath and close your eyes for a second before looking up at him again. This is hard. This is asking him to take on a lot. “When I go to check him in, they’re going to ask if I want to update his emergency contact on file. It’s someone from work right now, but if you were okay with it, I’d much rather it be you.”

Jack nods. “Of course. I am at daycare,” he reminds you with a smile. 

“I know, this just feels different,” you shrug. “Bigger.”

He knows exactly what you mean because it feels bigger to him too. Can’t quite put his finger on why, but it does. Maybe it’s just that it’s on top of the fact that he’s here with you, going to this appointment. You didn’t just ask at home and update it when you came alone. He’s here. 

“It does, yeah,” he agrees. “But I’m still happy to be it.”

“Okay,” you nod, “but if you ever don't want to be it anymore just let me know, okay?”

“I will.” He gives you a soft smile. “I don’t think that’ll happen, but if it does, I’ll tell you.” 

“Good, thank you.” You return his smile and try to stay calm when you lean up and push your lips out for a kiss. Sometimes being the one to initiate makes the guilt start to get a little unchecked. But you and your therapist have talked and are working through that further and you know it’s important for you and your relationship that you initiate.

"You don't owe me a kiss for that," he murmurs.

"I know, I just want one." The smile on Jack’s face grows as he leans down to give you the quick kiss you asked for. “We should probably get in. You can go sit with him and I’ll join you once I’m done checking in.”

“Sounds good.” You guys step back over to the door and Jack opens and holds the door for you. 

The appointment itself is smooth. Your son is healthy, meeting milestones and in good percentiles for his age. He’s content with both you and Jack there, smiling and happy like he almost always is. There are tears when he has to get his shots, ones that break your mom heart, but Jack is there for the both of you, rubbing your back and helping distract your son with peek-a-boo and his stethoscope. 

Once the three of you get back to your place you convince Jack that he needs to go to bed and sleep. He knows you’re right, knows how exhausted he is for some reason today, but he still wishes he could spend the extra time with you. 

“Jack?” you call to him as he hits the guest room door. He looks back at you where you’re standing with your son to take him into your room with you so that you can change into something more comfortable.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise a little and you’ve seen it happen a thousand times before, seen it happen a thousand times before when he’s sleepy like this. But something about this moment, in his scrubs with his stethoscope still around his neck, hair fluffier from running his hand through it a lot over his shift, makes the look even more adorable, makes him seem so adorable yet handsome you could scream.

“Thank you for coming with us.” You smile at him. “We really appreciate it.” 

Jack gives you a sleepy smile back that has you biting your lip. “Thanks for asking me to go with you.”

"Come here, please," Jack beckons you over to him softly. He stands up from where he's sitting on the couch watching you pace the living room. It's kind of cute the way your son is transfixed watching you walk back and forth.

You stop pacing and turn towards Jack. You let out a deep breath but walk over into his open arms. "I'm just worried they won't like me Jackie." You rest your forehead against his chest and hold onto his waist as he wraps his arms around you.

Jack's lips twitch upward. Not at your worry but at the name. It's a name he's rarely heard throughout his life. His wife called him it all of once and then never again because it just didn't feel right for either of them. But from you it feels right. There's something so soft and vulnerable and achingly fucking sweet about the way you say it, and yeah right now you're worried and upset, but Jack knows it's always going to sound like that coming from you because it's you and it just fits.

He leaves the name for a second. "They already like you, Sweetheart, and I am quite certain they're just going to like you even more when they leave tonight."

"How can they like me when they haven't even met me?" you mumble into his chest.

"Because you make me happy." He runs his hands up and down your back as he keeps you close and rocks you a little, able to keep an eye on your son who's over happily playing with some toy blocks. "And they know it and can see it, and they’ve wanted that for me again for a long time."

You rest your chin on Jack's chest and look up at him with wide eyes. "Well what if they meet me in person and realize they don't actually like me? Or what if they think I'm awful for you or something?"

Jack leans down and kisses your forehead. "Sweetheart, I'm not going to lie to you and promise you that they're going to feel a certain way about you when they leave. But knowing them and knowing you and knowing myself before and after you came into my life, I can honestly tell you that I truly believe with my entire heart and brain that they're going to love you and be happy for us and want to come back over soon and get to know you and him more. But even if, and I mean if, they didn't like you, we'd figure it out. They and their opinions aren't a part of our relationship, and yes, I know that's easy for me to say right now, but I promise you that we would figure it out, okay?"

You let out a long breath. "Okay," you nod, resting the side of your face back on his chest, "okay."

"Also." You can hear the smile in his voice. "Jackie?"

"What?" You pull your head back and look at him with confusion.

Jack wears an amused smile. "You called me Jackie."

"I did?" You furrow your brows a little more and look away from him as you replay the conversation in your head. "Oh, I did. I'm so sorry. Do you hate it? It just slipped out. I call you it in my head sometimes," you admit with a shy smile. "But it's okay if you hate it, I don't need to ever call you it again. Out loud or in my head."

"No, no," he's quick to shake his head. "I like it. It's cute. It's a very you thing to call me." Jack kisses your forehead again. "Only like it from you though."

The two of you are only just able to share a kiss when there's a knock on the door. Jack feels you tense a little. "It's going to be great, Sweetheart," he reassures you.

You nod at him and walk over to grab your son and a toy for him off the floor while Jack checks that it's Robby and Dana and opens the door, greeting them.

"I brought wine," Dana tells Jack as she steps in.

"And I brought beer," Robby says as he follows her in.

You settle your son on your hip as you walk toward the front door, watching Jack and Robby do what you'll come to learn is their normal quick, clapped hug. Jack hugs Dana properly and kisses her cheek and you smile to yourself at how cute the whole thing is, the three of them and their chosen family.

"Where's this woman of yours and her precious son?" Dana asks Jack as they pull apart.

You take a couple of steps forward and it's more the babbles from your son at seeing Jack than any noise you make that alerts Dana and Robby to your presence. "Hi." You greet them with a shy smile.

Even though they already know, Jack tells them your and your son's names again. Dana is the first to walk closer to you, waving to your son and then turning her attention to you. "Are you okay with hugs? Because shaking your hand feels kinda weird," she laughs.

"Sure," you nod, "yeah of course, if you, if you want to." You don't want her to feel like she has to greet you in some particular way.

"I do, yeah," she reassures you as she leans in for a quick hug that's a little to the side since you have your son resting on your one hip. "Jack's right," she glances over at him with a smile before looking back at you, "you're even more beautiful up close."

"Oh," you let out a flustered laugh. "Well um, thank you." You smile at her before looking over at Jack whose amused smile doesn't quite cover the light blush he wears at Dana's revelation that he talks about you and how beautiful you are to her and Robby at work. "And thank you too."

Dana steps aside so that you and Robby can finally meet.

"Hi," he smiles warmly at you and holds his hands out a little, "you okay with hugging me too?"

You nod and return his smile. "Of course, if you want."

Robby just gives you a small nod and gives you a similarly quick hug a little to the side like Dana did. "Hi little man, you're so big now!" he coos to your son as he steps back. Robby looks back at you. "I trust Jack has already explained my name?"

"He has, yeah." You smile softly.

"Good," Robby smiles, "just wanted to make sure so you're not confused when he inevitably calls me Michael at some point."

"I appreciate it," you nod at him. "Please, come in, come in," you usher, hand gesturing to the living room. Jack grabs everyone drinks and puts what Dana and Robby had brought in the kitchen and fridge.

Dana and Robby naturally look around as they walk in and sit down. You and Jack take the loveseat to give Dana and Robby room on the couch. You sit close, sides touching each other, Jack's arm between your back and the cushion, his hand resting on your hip. It's reassuring and helps you relax a little. You're able to pass your hand over his and give it a little thank you squeeze while you get your son situated sideways on your lap so that he's looking towards Dana and Robby, his toy in his lap entertaining him.

You notice Dana's eyes lingering on the American flag displayed on one of the shelves in the room, a photo of your husband and one of you and your husband next to it.

You say his name. Your husband's. "That's him obviously," you let out a slightly awkward laugh.

"Man, he's a real combo of the two of you isn't he?" Dana muses as she brings her eyes back to you and your son.

You nod and smile as you look down at your son. It's very true. "Yeah, you can definitely tell which features he got from who."

"Has it been long?" She asks gently, her eyes on you the whole time. You feel Jack stiffen beside you and rest a hand on his thigh and squeeze gently to let him know it's okay.

There's a pause while you think of what to say, because you know when you answer her and Robby are immediately going to try to do mental math. So really you're trying to figure out what exactly to say.

"I'm sorry if that was too much," Dana starts. "Oh, no." You shake your head and smile at her. "No, no, it's okay. I was just thinking of how much to trauma dump on you guys, I guess." You laugh to yourself. Both her and Robby look a little confused. "I'm going to tell you and your instinct is going to be to start doing math based on him and his birthday," you glance down at your son, "and it's just all sad so I was just thinking about how much to say."

"As much or as little as you want, Hon. We deal with trauma for a living." Dana smiles at you. Robby gives you a soft smile too.

"It's been about a year and eight months now." You let out a breath. "God, that's still so totally unfucking real to say." Jack's hand squeezes your hip reassuringly and to remind you that you don't have to say anything else. You decide to just tell them what you told Jack initially. "Jack said he told you guys that my husband died while deployed. I guess the long story short is we'd been trying for a baby for a bit, I kept miscarrying. About two weeks before he was being redeployed I found out I was five weeks pregnant and it was just different. I had real symptoms and we were so cautiously optimistic. We both hated that he had to go but were comforted by the fact that as long as everything went to plan he should be back in time to be here for the birth. And then things didn't go to plan and he died when I was ten weeks pregnant." You shrug because you never really know what to do after saying that.

Both Dana and Robby look equally heartbroken for you, Dana keeping your eye contact even as her face melts into a kind of grief. Robby reacts similar to how Jack did, closing his eyes and wincing a little. "So you know… kept the baby lost the husband that time. Pretty sick of the universe. Especially because I don't really have family, much less anywhere nearby."

"Jesus, so you did everything after that alone?" Dana asks, shaking her head slightly. You nod. "You are one strong woman, I hope you know that."

"Oh," you titter, "no, I don't think so. I just did what I had to do, you know?"

"No," Robby shakes his head. Despite there being some force behind his words because he really wants you to hear and believe him, his voice is gentle and the look he gives you is soft. "Dana's right. You are."

Jack can tell that while you're not upset with how the conversation has gone so far, you need some lightness infused back into things and to move the conversation along a little. He slides his hand up your back and wraps it gently around the back of your neck, thumb rubbing into your skin a little. "I'd just like to point out that I tell you that all the time."

You huff a laugh and roll your eyes at him. At Jack's voice your son looks up from the toy he's been playing with in your lap and shifts to find Jack, giggling once he makes eye contact. You all laugh as he crawls from your lap over to Jack's and starts grabbing at Jack's face.

"I adore you Kid, but why don't you go see Dana or Robby, hm?" Jack hums at him, grabbing his small hand and pretending to eat it just to pull the sweetest giggles from him. Jack has taken to calling him Kid recently. You find it adorable. "Robby's face is extra fun to grab at, remember?" Jack tells your son in a baby voice, smirking at Robby. You both already know your son is going to have a field day with Robby's beard.

"And I will happily allow it." Robby nods at him with a teasing smile.

"I'm sorry in advance." You shoot Robby an apologetic smile. "And, yes! Sorry! I should've asked if you guys wanted to have him, I'm just not used to… having other people to offer him to," you laugh. "He can take a bit to warm up to people though, I know he's technically met you guys before though. And he's obsessed with Jack so it's hard to get him out of Jack's arms sometimes." You look over at Jack. "It's understandable, really."

Jack's eyebrows raise and he gives you a little smirk while Dana and Robby chuckle.

"I would love to see him!" Dana gets up and walks towards you and Jack. "He can take all the time he needs to warm up to me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I don't know how I ended up making this feel so formal either, like we're all sitting here so properly. Please just make yourselves at home, walk around, whatever. We play with him on the floor a lot," you look over at the area, "so if he gets attached he might want you to go sit with him on the floor, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, we'd be happy too." Dana bends a little and holds her hands out to your son. He looks at them and her and then at you and Jack.

"Yeah, Robby's got a few years left of being able to get up and down from the floor, it's not a problem at all." Jack gives Robby a saccharine grin.

Robby rolls his eyes at him, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Ha ha very funny, Jack."

You and Dana chuckle at the two of them and then you turn your attention to your son. "You wanna go see Auntie Dana Baby?" you coo at him. "You've met her before. You like her."

"Auntie?" Dana's smile is slightly teasing but also so bright at being called Auntie.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," you rush out. "I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to be called that, I'm so sorry-"

"Sweetheart," Jack cuts you off gently, "you just made her entire month, don't apologize. She absolutely wants to be Auntie Dana." He gives you a reassuring smile before smirking a little at Dana. Jack's eyes make their way back to your son and he nods and gives your son an encouraging smile. After a few more seconds of consideration your son reaches up for Dana to take him.

"It's true," Dana chuckles in response to Jack's words. "Hi Baby, you're so gorgeous aren't you? And you've gotten so big since the last time I held you." Dana coos at your son, taking him to sit back on the couch with her.

"Does that mean I'm Uncle Robby?" Robby asks with a hopeful, excited smile and raised eyebrows.

"No." Jack deadpans.

You click your tongue at Jack and bump him with your shoulder. "Ignore him on that, please."

Robby chuckles. "I frequently do."

"Do you fuck." You can feel Jack roll his eyes as he says it.

You shake your head at the two of them, smiling to yourself. They really are like brothers at times. "Yeah, you're Uncle Robby, or at least that's what I was going to call you. Only if you want though."

"I'd like that." Robby nods as he slides down closer to Dana on the couch to be near your son.

"Then Auntie Dana and Uncle Robby it is." You let yourself lean into Jack a little more now that you don't have your son on your lap and he kisses your temple. You like it, love it even, how Dana and Robby have also accepted your son into their lives so unconditionally before really knowing him or you.

The five of you stay in the living room and chat for a while, conversation flowing freely and easily as Dana and Robby play with your son. Eventually dinner finishes in the oven and you all move into the kitchen and dining room while you and Jack quickly finish up a few sides. Once dinner is over you move back into the living room, Robby and Dana sitting on the floor with your son and continuing to play with him as you all chat.

After a bit, Jack slips off to the bathroom. "So is this when the real interrogation starts? What are my intentions with your Jack?" you joke with Dana and Robby once the bathroom door closes.

"No." Dana laughs, shaking her head.

Robby laughs with her but grows more serious. "It's very clear how good you are for him. He hasn't been this happy in years." Robby gives you a knowing smile. All three of you know exactly how many years.

You let out a little sigh of relief. You know Dana and Robby love Jack enough that they wouldn't lie to you about you being good for him and him being the happiest he's been in years. You're happy to have the reassurance from them because sometimes you doubt yourself in those ways.

"I'm glad." You smile at them both, head spinning just a little as you think about Jack. You end up staring off into the distance at a spot on the floor without realizing it. "He is so good for me. He has the patience of a fucking saint with me, on like every level and he is so thoughtful and understanding and he's jumped head first into all of this with my son too, and he is so fucking good with my son, and is just so…" Loving. That's the word you want to use but don't for a number of reasons. You let out a slow breath.

"So caring. He's just so there for me. Wherever I am. He's there. He meets me there. He makes me…" Feel things I thought I'd never feel again after my husband died. That's the way you want to finish that sentence, but you need to truly make that admission to yourself first. "Happy. He makes me very happy." You finally realize you're staring at a spot on the floor and bring your eyes back to Dana and Robby, letting out a small awkward laugh. You pretty much just verbally processed out loud to them some of how you feel about Jack. "Well, that turned into me rambling awkwardly, didn't it? I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Dana shakes her head at you, an almost wistful smile on her face. "Jack is an amazing man and he deserves to be with someone who recognizes that, and you do."

"We're both really happy for you." Robby smiles at you, happily letting your son pull at his beard.

Jack comes back within earshot of the living room during Robby's pause. "And what were you all talking about that you had to stop discussing once I was back?" Your son hears Jack's voice and is immediately sitting on Robby's lap so he can find Jack and start crawling towards him. "Miss me that much Kid?" Jack chuckles as he bends down to pick your son up. Your son babbles happily at him, small hands resting on Jack's cheeks.

"I was just about to tell her about that one time freshman year when you-"

"Michael," Jack interrupts him, "you should take a good couple of seconds to really think about whether you want to start the war of embarrassing high school stories."

"I think he does," Dana tries to egg Robby on.

But after a couple of seconds Robby holds up his hands in truce and Jack starts walking over to them. "If you pull on Uncle Robby's beard extra hard right now I'll buy you all the bubbles you want next time we're at the store," Jack stage whispers to your son who giggles loudly in response.

"You're such an asshole sometimes." Robby shakes his head at Jack but holds his arms up to accept your son as Jack hands him back down to Robby. "And we both know you're so wrapped around his finger that you'll buy him all the bubbles he wants the next time you're at the store regardless." Robby smirks.

"You say that like you aren't just as wrapped and wouldn't buy him all the bubbles he wanted at the store every single time." Jack cocks his head and flicks his eyebrows up at Robby as he sits back down next to you.

The two stare at each other for a minute until Robby breaks it, laughing to himself and looking down at your son in his lap.

"God, man, I can't fucking believe we're sitting here having this conversation about me buying bubbles for him, for my nephew. It's like surreal almost." Robby looks back up at Jack with a hint of wonder to his smile. "I was the new kid who sat next to you on the bus on the first day of sixth grade. And now look where fucking we are."

"Pretty fucking crazy," Jack nods. "Nobody else I'd rather have here with me though."

You and Dana look at each other exchanging smiles of adoration for the two men and the deep brotherly love they have for each other. You're both almost vaguely teary. You look at each other just a touch too long though and burst into giggles at the same time.

"I'm sorry," you giggle out to Jack and Robby. "That was so precious I felt myself getting teary and then I looked at Dana…"

"I was too!" She laughs. "I was gonna fucking cry over you two and then it just turned into laughter."

Jack and Robby laugh with the two of you, and the four of you settle back into conversation.

"You okay?" Jack whispers when Dana and Robby get distracted by your son, bringing his head close to yours over your shoulder, lips near your ear.

"Yeah," you nod as you whisper back.

"Alright, just wanted to check." Jack keeps his voice low. "But if you need this over at any point just let me know and I'll make something up, okay?"

"Okay, but I don't think that'll happen." You turn your head and kiss the side of Jack's lips making him smile and nuzzle his face against yours for a second.

It's not too much later that your son starts to slow down and grow sleepy as you all chat. Eventually he leaves Robby and Dana and crawls over to you and Jack. "Yeah, it's about that time, isn't it Baby?" you murmur as Jack picks him up.

Your son is happy in Jack's arms, head resting against Jack's chest. His eyes stay open for a while and watch Dana and Robby when they move to sit back on the couch from the floor. But as you talk his eyelids grow heavier and heavier and eventually he's out.

You let Jack hold him while he sleeps for a bit until there's a lull in the conversation and you can bow out for a few minutes to get him changed and in some pajamas and in bed. It takes a bit but you know Jack doesn't mind holding him while he sleeps, that Jack loves it if anything.

"I'm going to go put him down," you smile at the room, "give you guys a chance to gossip about me. I'll be right back." The three of them laugh at your joke as you get up and take your son from Jack's arms and walk to the nursery.

You're not wrong in a sense. But it's not really gossip per se.

"Jack she is so fucking great, oh my god!" Dana almost squeals at him when they hear the door to the nursery close. "She's even better than you described!"

"I know," Jack says smugly.

"She really is incredible, Jack. I honestly wasn't sure she could live up to your description but she did. Even better, like Dana said. I'm so happy for you. Both of you." Robby tilts his head at Jack. "And she's really into you Jack. She like, gushed almost, about you while you went to the bathroom."

"Gushed?" Jack smirks. But he can feel the softest rush of heat to his face as he wonders what you said.

"That was honestly probably the right word choice," Dana says in support of Robby.

"Thank you!" Robby huffs.

"Alright, alright." Jack lets out a single laugh to himself. "I could gush about her, honestly."

"We know." Robby and Dana say at the same time, all three laughing at it.

"Okay but seriously," Robby cocks his head at Jack, "the way you look at her, the way she looks at you, you can tell. It's obvious that you guys are really into each other."

"She is so good for me." Jack tells himself he's not going to go on too much about you because he's already done his own version of gushing about you to both of them many times at work. "She just has this presence that makes me feel safe and calm and… steady. And it's been a long time since I've felt any of that. She makes me happy. Like really happy and not just in a situational sense, you know? She just makes me happier all the time, as a person."

"We know that too, trust us," Robby teases Jack.

"And you look good with a baby in your arms, Jack." Dana smirks a little.

"What about me?" Robby asks her, nudging her leg with his foot.

"You know what, you do too Robby," Dana nods, "and women love that. Maybe you can take him out around the city one day when you babysit. It'll get you noticed and they'll love that you're being a fun involved uncle even more."

Jack can't help but laugh because he knows Robby is already starting to regret the question and it bringing up the topic of his love life.

"You want me to take Jack's baby around the city to try and get dates?" They all hear it but none of them react, none of them seem to fully recognize in the moment that Robby slipped in a sense and just called your son Jack's son because it feels so natural.

Dana nods. "I mean you'd be babysitting and spending time with him. The rest would just be a bonus."

"I regret asking. Why did I ask?" Robby shakes his head to himself.

"It's not necessarily a bad idea if you ever did," Jack agrees with Dana.

"Okay, I don't need any help getting dates, thank you." Dana and Jack both give Robby a look at that, more teasing than anything. They both know Robby could have a love life if he really wanted one. "Just because I haven't found someone I want to date doesn't mean I couldn't be getting and going on dates."

You overhear Jack and Robby as you walk back into the living room with the monitor. "Well, I guess you moved on from gossiping about me to Robby quickly. I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

"Or lack thereof," Jack quips about Robby's love life. Robby huffs at him.

"It's good," Dana reassures you with a smile.

"Good," you nod, sitting back down on the loveseat next to Jack and resting your hand on his thigh, "so what was the not bad idea?" You look over at Robby since this is about him. "If you're okay talking about it with me here. We don't have to."

"It's okay," Robby tells you as he gives you an appreciative smile.

"I was saying that women like seeing men with babies and if Robby babysits one day he should take your son out around the city and attract some attention," Dana explains.

"Attract some attention, oh my god." Robby runs his hands over his face.

You giggle. "I mean, women do like it. It makes them think. And finding out you're the caring babysitting uncle would be even better."

Dana looks at Robby and flourishes her hand towards you. "That's what I said!"

"And that's why I said it wasn't a bad idea." Jack pauses. He brings his hand to the back of your neck like he did earlier, gently pulls a little so that you'll look back at him. "I don't want you to think we're viewing him as like, I don't know, a thing to be used, though."

"No, god, no," Robby is quick to agree with Jack, looking a bit stricken at the thought, "not at all." Dana nods in agreement with the two.

You laugh softly, still looking at Jack. "No, I don't think that at all. Honestly it would be a great time for him. He would absolutely love all the attention, even if you wouldn't Robby."

"Oh that's very, very true," Jack chuckles, "that's a good point."

"Okay," Robby starts, "but I want to promise you that if I ever took him out like that it would be to spend time with him, not to fish for dates or attract attention."

You turn back to Robby. "I know Robby, I promise." You give him what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I know you care about him and it would be about spending time with him and any numbers or dates you got would just be a bonus."

"Again, that's what I said." Dana gives Robby a pointed look.

"I heard there was maybe someone at work though?" You look at Robby with slightly raised brows.

"Oh no, not you too!" Robby sighs. "He already recruited you into badgering me about this?"

"Good job Jack!" Dana laughs and Robby rolls his eyes at her.

"He's joking, he loves it." Jack smirks at Robby but squeezes your hip reassuringly.

Robby hums as if to say he's not so sure about that.

"Oh, no, I'm, I'm sorry," you start, suddenly the stricken one, "I didn't mean-"

"Hey, no, no," Robby interrupts, smiling at you. "It's okay, I promise. It's okay to tease and badger along with them, it's not going to make me not like you." You nod at Robby and try your hardest not to grow suddenly quiet or off. He said it was okay. "There is someone but I'm not convinced she's into me like I'm into her."

Jack snorts. "Okay, well Dana and I know she is. You're just incapable of seeing it somehow."

"Well, okay. Why don't you come to the Pitt bowling thing and watch Robby and her together?" Dana suggests to you. "You can see what you think and then tell Robby your read on it. Maybe he'll trust you more as a neutral outsider?" She glances at Robby.

"Yeah," Robby nods a little in consideration, "I would be more apt to go for it if someone who's never seen us together saw something. And I know you'll be honest."

You nod. "Jack already asked me if I wanted to go and I said yes. So I can do that." You laugh to yourself. "Yeah, actually we're bringing the baby so there we go. We'll let her see you as Uncle Robby, maybe it'll help seal the deal even more."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're going! This will be great! We need more Pitt family babies and I know that everyone is dying to meet you and him," Dana chuckles. "And they're going to love you both."

"Hopefully," you titter.

"They will," Robby agrees with Dana.

Jack leans into you a bit, his hand back at your waist and squeezing gently. "They will," he murmurs. "And Dana and I will get to prove to Robby that we're right," Jack says in a normal voice, smirking at Robby.

Robby rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh that you all end up sharing for a few seconds. The four of you chat for a while longer before Robby and Dana decide to head out.

"Seriously though, if you guys ever need a sitter, Dana and I are both ready, willing and able," Robby offers as you all linger by the door.

"We are," Dana confirms. "Eager, even."

You nod at them both. There's nobody you would trust your son with more than Dana and Robby, the fact that Dana's a nurse and Robby's a doctor only part of the reason for trusting them with him. "Yeah, I think we might take you up on that soon." You look over your shoulder and up at Jack. "If Jack wanted."

"Fuck yeah I want." Jack smiles widely at you. "I'm so ready to take you on a childless date as much as I love him and our time with him."

All four of you laugh at Jack's enthusiasm. "Yeah," you nod at him, "I want that too."

You and Jack take up the babysitting offer quickly, Jack planning a date for the two of you eight days after you had Dana and Robby over. Dana was the first of the two to say she was available that Saturday night so she's looking after your son tonight.

Jack hasn't told you the details of the date yet other than to give you an idea of how to dress and that it involved dinner and something after. He'd said dressy casual, more than jeans and a t-shirt but not necessarily a full cocktail dress or something like that, and that for reference he'd be in casual slacks and a casual long sleeve button up.

You pick out something you think fits the bill and gives you some confidence. Or as much confidence as you're realistically going to get. You and Jack know each other incredibly well, he's seen you incredibly sick and has held you when you cry and seen the aftermath and yet you're nervous as all fuck for this date and for him to see you somewhat dressed up like this.

Jack takes your son so that you're able to get ready in your room alone, the two sitting on the couch together. He of course can't help but think about his wife and there's an ache that squeezes his heart for a bit. This isn't the first date he's been on since his wife. The ones that came after the first one he went on after his wife all seemed a bit easier. But this one feels like that first one again. Maybe because it's the first date he's been on since his wife with someone who really matters. Someone he's in a relationship with. Someone whose son is sitting on his lap. He lets himself feel it all for a bit, acknowledges all the feelings so that it's easier to let them slip back into the background and have excitement and first date nerves come back to the forefront.

You do your hair first and then move on to your makeup. It's the first time you've really done your makeup in a very long time and it's kind of weird seeing yourself with it on once you’re finished and looking at yourself in the mirror.

You slip into what you picked out and stand in front of the mirror to look at yourself, doing your best not to pick yourself apart too much. Once you decide this is as good as it's going to get you turn from the mirror and just stand there for a minute. You haven't been out on a real date like this since losing your husband obviously, and it's just strange and there's a sadness that comes with it, even with as excited as you are to get this time with Jack. You just weren't supposed to have to date someone who wasn't your husband ever again. You take a few minutes to feel the grief and sadness and think about your husband and talk to him in your head how you do sometimes when your grief and guilt start to flare so that you don't get overwhelmed. And then you take a deep breath and focus back in the present, on Jack and the date you're about to go on with him. You're allowed to have this. You can have this. It doesn't make you awful.

After you spray on a little perfume you hit the lights and walk out to the living room. Jack is already dressed and sitting on the couch with your son, a couple of toys and books around them. You smile to yourself at the view and clear your throat, walking further into the living room so you're more visible to Jack. You clear your throat. "Um, is this okay? The outfit? Like is it appropriate?"

Jack looks up at you and his brain buffers a little bit as he takes you in. You look incredible. You always do, but it's a different type of incredible all dressed up like this with your hair and makeup done.

"Wow. Yeah. So much more than okay, you look gorgeous, wow," he laughs breathily. Jack stands and walks over to you, his eyes dragging over your body and face, eyes stopping when they reach yours. "You're so beautiful." He glances at your son and bounces him a little. "Your mama's stunning, isn't she Kid?" Your son babbles a little in response and claps his hands.

Your brain buffers just like Jack's did when he stands up and you get a full look at him. The man is always unfairly handsome, even when exhausted from a string of on days, but being in perfectly fitted slacks and a button up collared shirt gives him a different kind of edge that leaves your brain empty for a minute.

You feel your entire body grow hot at his words because look at him. And he's calling you gorgeous and beautiful and stunning. "Thank you. You look incredibly handsome. It's uh," you let out your own breathy laugh, "it's hard to describe, yeah. But, you look incredible Jack." You look at your son. "And thank you Baby." You lean in and give his cheek a light kiss to avoid any lipstick transfer.

Some pink tinges his cheeks at your words. "Thank you." There's a couple of seconds of silence as the two of you smile at each other, both of you feeling like teenagers about to go on a first date with your crush. "I, um, I was going to get you flowers, not, not daisies, but I know your husband showed up with flowers on your first date and I didn't want it to seem like I was…" he can't think of exactly how he wants to finish that sentence so he takes a chance because he's pretty sure you'll understand what he means. "You know?"

You nod and smile softly at him. You know what he means. He doesn't want to seem like he was trying to replace your husband or be him or copy him or override memories. "I do know, yeah. And I appreciate it. But I also want you to know Jack that anything you ever did wouldn't seem like that to me because I know it never would be that."

"Good," Jack smiles as he nods at you, "I'm glad you know."

A knock on the door interrupts before either of you can say anything more. Jack's slightly closer to the door so he makes sure it's Dana and opens it. "Hi," he greets her with a hug once he gets the door closed, "thank you for doing this."

"Of course! I'm more than happy to!" She smiles widely at him and sets her bag down. She takes a step back and looks Jack up and down. "Wow, look at you Dr. Abbot. Don't you clean up nicely?" Dana smirks.

Jack gives her a fake little huff. "You say that like you're surprised."

"Not at all, it's just a rarity to see you in something other than scrubs, jeans and a t-shirt or sweats." Her attention turns over to you. "Hi," she greets you as she hugs you. "You look beautiful, Mom."

"Thank you," you murmur to her before pulling out of the hug. You're awkward with compliments. Always have been, almost assuredly always will be.

"And hi, you!" Dana turns her attention to your son, who giggles at her. "You ready for a fun night with Auntie Dana?" She holds her hands out and your son looks up at Jack who smiles and nods at him. At Jack's encouragement your son reaches for Dana who happily grabs him and starts bouncing.

Jack smooths out his shirt and walks over to one of the bookshelves in your living room that's three-quarters shelves with the remaining quarter a cabinet with doors. "Everything you should need is out in the nursery, diapers, wipes, PJs, the monitor. There's some food for him in the fridge and he's big on the milk game right now, usually he has a sippy cup with dinner or before bed if he doesn't want it with dinner. He usually goes down pretty easily." You smile to yourself as you listen to Jack give Dana the rundown on everything related to your son. It's heartwarming. "Emergency medical supplies are here," he taps the cabinet with his foot, "PTMC is the closest hospital and Robby texted me earlier that he's not drinking tonight and on standby to go in if anything happens, so call him if it does."

Dana smirks as she walks into the living room. "I see he's taking the whole uncle thing seriously."

Jack tilts his head. "He is. Just as seriously as you're taking the aunt thing because I know that's not your normal purse."

"What?" She shrugs with a playful defensiveness as she draws the word out. "I wasn't sure what all you'd have here so I brought a couple of things just on the very off chance something happens."

It makes your heart ache in the best way, and you have to giggle a little because the whole thing is just so painfully cute and sweet. Jack and Dana look at you. "No. No, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing, laughing. It's just very sweet, all three of you are, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it and how much more at ease I feel knowing I'm leaving him with you, Dana, and with Robby on standby. Truly."

"As a mom I totally get it," Dana nods, "and truly I'm happy to do it. I miss when they were this little, you know?"

"I do." You let out a long breath. "They grow up too fast." You look at your son in her arms with a wistful smile. "And please help yourself to anything here."

"Uber's just about here," Jack interjects gently. He could drive but it's just easier to take an uber, and it lets both of you drink.

"Okay," you breathe out. You walk over to Dana and take your son for a minute, hugging him tight and giving him a couple of kisses that leave behind a little lipstick.

"I'll get it," Dana tells you when you go to lick your thumb to wipe it away.

"Thank you." You give her a grateful smile before hugging your son again. "I love you Baby, be good for Auntie Dana."

Dana takes him back from you and Jack leans into her to give your son a quick hug and kiss. "Love you, Kid."

Dana distracts your son while you get your shoes on, Jack already in his, and grab your coats before stepping out. Jack locks the door behind you. You smile at him when he opens the car door for you, murmur "thank you," as you get in.

Once you're at the restaurant Jack stands right behind you as you both wait for the hostess to return and seat you. You're close enough that both of you are able to really smell each other, the scent of your perfume and Jack's cologne wrapping around the memories of the evening.

You get seated and look around a little as you open your menu. The restaurant is romantic, small but not too small, dim with up-lighting adding to the glow of the candles that adorn each table. It's that lighting that makes Jack's eyes look a different color with each flicker of the flame. You're so entranced by watching them as he looks at you that you nearly miss his question.

"Hm?" It's distracted but you quickly pull yourself back to as his words process. "Yeah. Yeah we can share a bottle of wine with dinner, that sounds nice."

"Okay, let's decide what we're having first and then pick. Unless you have a strong preference for red or white? Or pink." His eyebrows raise slightly with his intonation.

"I don't, no." You shake your head as you look down at the menu.

Jack can't help but stare at you for a moment, finds himself entranced by watching the flicker of the flame highlight the different contours of your face so beautifully. He has to drag his eyes off of you and down to the menu.

The two of you decide what you're going to have and then pick out a bottle of wine together. You order when your waiter comes by and then are finally able to really settle in.

"I meant to say earlier but the hostess returned and started showing us to our table," Jack starts with a small smile, "you smell particularly nice tonight."

"Oh, um, thank you." A shy smile pulls on your face. Between Jack's comment and the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the room you get flustered, just like you did in the hospital when asking Jack to come to your son's appointment with you. "It's perfume." You pause for a second as what you said sinks in. "Well, I'm sure that was obvious," you laugh. "God, I don't know why I still get this flustered around you like you aren't my boyfriend and when you're still here despite knowing some of the most personal things about me and seeing me ugly cry into my hands or you and a bunch of other embarrassing things."

Jack gives you a sympathetic smile and laugh as he finishes taking the drink he started while you were talking. "Oh trust me, Sweetheart, I know how you feel. You do the same, to me, I promise." Your forearm and hand rest up the side of the table and Jack brings his to match, nudging the tips of your fingers with his. "It's very endearing. You getting flustered."

"Given how often it seems to happen that's probably a good thing," you laugh softly with him. "And you, um, you smell very nice too. I noticed earlier, I'm not just saying it because you did."

"Thank you." He nods, but it seems like there's more he wants to say that he doesn't.

"What?" You wear a curious smile now.

Jack shakes his head and bows it for a second. He's not going to lie and say nothing. "I considered saying 'thank you, it's cologne,' just to tease you, but decided not to because I wasn't sure if it would land and be a cute moment or just make you self-conscious and embarrassed," he admits.

You smile brightly at him and laugh a little. "It would've landed and been a cute moment in this context where I'd already made fun of myself about it. But as someone who gets easily self-conscious and embarrassed I really appreciate you thinking about that."

Your waiter cuts in with an apology and sets down the appetizer you and Jack decided on. As it always does with the two of you, conversation flows freely and easily as you eat your appetizer and mains.

"So do I get to know what we're doing after this yet?" You give Jack a hopeful smile as the two of you wait for your dessert.

"Yeah, alright, I'll tell you," Jack says as he nods. As he goes to tell you Jack starts to regret not asking about this beforehand because now that it's here and he's about to tell you he's worried it's silly or cringe or going to end up being embarrassing. At the same time he wonders if it's too much in a way. Too serious or trying too hard or too something.

You don't miss the pink that tinges Jack's cheeks. "I'm sure I'm going to love it Jack." You give him a reassuring smile.

He raises his eyebrows for a second and tilts his head like he's trying to say he's not sure. He licks his lips and forces himself to start talking. "I got us tickets for the Benedum Center." He lets out a little breath through his shy smile. "Macbeth is on."

It clicks immediately and takes you back to just around four months ago.

Jack stands up, puts the chair back and looks back at you, rolls his eyes. “Patient census comment coming back to bite me in the ass. Shoulda known better.” 

You let out a small laugh. “I thought it was very Scottish Play of you.” Jack smiles at you. “I’m sorry it didn’t work.” He walks over to the door and puts his hand on the door handle, pauses, thinking.

Jack turns back to look at you. “What’s done cannot be undone,” he says with a little smirk. 

You laugh almost properly at that. It makes you feel, maybe not totally happy, but okay. It’s been a while since you’ve felt either. 

“Oh wow, okay, well go get ‘em Lady Macbeth.” Jack laughs softly, more of just a smile with some air breathed out of his nose as he shakes his head a little at you. 

"Oh Jack," you whisper, face melting into the most adoring smile because you truly do adore this man. "That is so sweet. I love that."

"Yeah?" His lips pull up in a tentative smile.

"Yeah." You nod, still smiling at him and sliding your fingers over his where they rest on the table and rubbing the back of his palm with your thumb.

"I'm glad you remembered or it would've been awkward." He burns off some of his nervous energy with a laugh.

"Of course I remember. I remember that night quite clearly and that whole exchange in particular because, it, it made me feel okay for the first time in a very long time, almost happy. I could never forget it, or you for giving me that feeling back." You pause and laugh softly, shaking your head at him. "I can't believe you remember with all the conversations you have with people every time you work."

"Well one, you're not just a person I spoke with at the Pitt one shift. You never were. And two," Jack chuckles to himself, "patients' moms call me a lot of things, some of which are very choice, but I can promise you I've only had one call me Lady Macbeth, so it's definitely memorable."

You click your tongue playfully. "Okay, I only called you it because you quoted her."

"I only quoted her because you brought up the Scottish play." His eyes sparkle with mirth in the flickering light as he tilts his head at you with a smile. "And you have to admit it was impressive that I could quote Macbeth offhand."

"Oh, freely," you nod, "it was very impressive. I was honestly shocked in the moment. I recognized it once you said it, but I don't think I could have offhand quoted it like that." The two of you laugh. "But really Jack," you squeeze his hand, "I'm excited and it truly is incredibly sweet and romantic and something I'll always remember."

"I'm glad it's okay," he murmurs.

"More than," you murmur back.

Your dessert gets dropped off and you and Jack share it, finish up the last of your bottle of wine, pay and grab another uber to the theater. You check your phone in the uber and smile at the photos Dana sent of your son and her and your son, sharing them with Jack. You send her a quick text back thanking her for sending them.

You head into the theater once you arrive and, unsurprisingly, Jack got you guys what have to be some of the best seats in the house. The play itself is wonderful and both you and Jack look over at each other when Lady Macbeth says that particular line. Once the play is over and you're out of the theater standing off to the side Jack helps you into your jacket before putting on his own.

"Would you like to head back home? Or we could stop somewhere and grab a nightcap." Jack knows you might be missing your son and itching to get back home to him or that you just might be tired and ready to go home. "Totally up to you Sweetheart, I'll be happy either way. I've had a great night, a great time with you." He gets a little shy on you again, dropping his head a bit and lowering his voice. "I, um, I hope you've enjoyed too."

You all but beam at Jack. "Of course I have. I always enjoy time with you Jack and tonight has been amazing." Jack lets out a slight sigh of relief at that. He doesn't know why he was so worried about it when he's watched you smile the entire night, but he was. "It's been really nice getting to have some adult time that's not us in my living room while the baby is asleep. I mean I love that, don't get me wrong, I love that time with you and wouldn't want it to disappear, but this kind of real date is just different, you know? A different kind of time together that I've really, really enjoyed." You think about his question and look at your phone. Dana has sent a photo of the monitor showing your son asleep in a silly position in his crib. You show Jack, who chuckles. "I think a nightcap sounds lovely. I don't really want the night to end," you admit, your own shyness coming out.

"I don't either," Jack agrees. "I'm glad you've enjoyed the night so far." Jack's eyebrows raise just slightly and you smile at the way the two of you can communicate in such subtleties. You lean into him and he brings his head down, the two of you exchanging a couple of kisses. When you part you use your thumb to wipe away the little bit of lipstick transfer on his lips. "I know a place a couple streets up, if you're okay walking. It has a speakeasy sort of thing going on. That work for you?"

"Sounds perfect." At your words Jack holds out his arm for you to take and you do with a little giggle. "Lead the way, Dr. Abbot."

A little over a month later it’s a pretty typical Thursday evening. You’re home around 5:15 like usual on days Jack works and you and Jack make the most of the hour and fifteen minutes you have together before he has to leave for work. 

Your son started walking shortly after you and Jack went on your first real date. You cried and Jack got misty eyed and you spent hours on the couch showing Jack photos and videos of him as a newborn up to nine months when Jack came into your lives. He was so tiny and now he's so big and you love it but it's also so hard.

He's getting closer to talking too. You both keep coaxing him to try and say mama, keep reading to him a lot to encourage him. You know it's coming.

But when it happens it's still a surprise.

Jack's sitting on the floor with your son playing and helping him walk some when you return to the living room from changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. Jack picked your son up from daycare after he got up since he worked last night. The last couple of nights. He's glad this is his last shift on this string.

"How are you guys?" You ask Jack as you sit on the floor next to him, your son toddling over to you and babbling. "Hi Baby! Did you have a good day? I bet you were excited to see Jack when he picked you up, hm?"

"We're alright. He was excited to see me, yeah," Jack chuckles. "We've just been playing and chilling since then, had a snack when we got home. And I'm alright. Really wish I didn't have to work."

You give your son a couple of cheek kisses and hold him close to you for a second before letting him sit in your lap. "I wish you didn't have to either," you sigh. You lean into Jack and share a couple of kisses, both of you smiling as you pull apart.

"At least I'm off after this shift and-"

Jack is interrupted by your son pointing at him and then clapping. "Dada, Dada." Both your and Jack's heads snap to look at your son. It's brief, and he's back to babbling nonsense while the two of you are still processing.

"Did he just say dada?" you breathe to Jack, your emotions already pulling you in multiple directions.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, beaming at your son, "he did. He just said his first word."

"Oh my god," you whisper, tears already hitting your eyes. Like so many things with him, there's an edge of not quite sadness but almost longing that washes over you as he hits this milestone. He's so grown. And it makes you beyond thrilled but he's growing up. He's not your tiny newborn anymore and part of you longs for him to stay little forever. "He's talking." A few tears slip down your cheeks as you bring him back to your chest to hug him and shower him with kisses. "I'm so proud of you Baby, my smart boy!"

The excitement encourages him to repeat himself, his babbling leading into another, "Dada, Dada," as he looks at Jack.

"He is." Jack gets a little emotional too because your son is talking and calling him Dada and like for, it's a realization of how big he's getting. "You're so smart! That's such a good job, Kid."

You sniffle a laugh and let your son sit back on your lap as you get your phone and start to record. "What did you just say Baby? Dada?"

You're able to lean back and pan out enough so that you can see both Jack and your son in the frame. Jack reaches over to tickle his tummy and your son grabs one of his fingers, his entire small hand wrapping around it and shaking it up and down a little. "Dada, Dada, Dada!"

When he lets go of Jack's finger Jack takes his hand back, wipes a few tears off his face and claps for him. "That's so good, Kid! You're so smart!"

Your son giggles in response and copies Jack, clapping and babbling a little more. You stop recording and lean in for a quick kiss with Jack because in the moment it feels right.

"I'm so proud of you, Honey. You're doing such a good job!" You lean down and kiss his head, nuzzle your nose there to take in the smell of baby shampoo. "You're getting so big, time needs to slow down."

"I can't believe he called me Dada," Jack murmurs, more to himself than to you, but you catch it. Because the way he looked at Jack when he said it indicates there was at least some association. Jack is unbelievably happy that your son's first word was dada and that he was saying it at Jack. He knows your son doesn't fully grasp what the word means and the significance behind it, but still. It's so beyond touching and it matches the role he feels like he has in your son's life and how he feels about your son. Jack loves your son like he's Jack's own. Jack would do anything for him, walk into a burning building or jump in front of a car for him without a second thought. But he wonders if you're okay with it because at the end of the day, your son isn't his and this should be your husband. He looks up at you. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," you give him a soft smile, "it fits."

Jack's words make you think, though. The irony that your son's father is dead and his first word was dada doesn't escape you. It feels very much like it should feel like a sick irony to you. And it does, but perhaps not as bad as you thought it might. It does hurt when you think about it. Your son was supposed to call your husband that. You're not necessarily upset as such that he called Jack dada, but he was supposed to call your husband that.

You really want to have this moment though. To be here and present and just let yourself be happy and a little emotional and proud of your son and not be consumed with grief. You wish you could control it that easily. It sucks. It's always going to fucking suck when your son hits a milestone and your husband isn't here. But you know your husband wouldn't want your grief over him to darken all of those memories. So you do your best to focus on the moment.

"Okay," Jack nods, gives you a matching smile, "I kind of thought so too, but I just wanted to check."

You take a second to gather some of your thoughts and figure out how you want to explain them. "This is not going to end up being particularly articulate, but I think that's the role you have in his life right now, Jack. So it makes sense for him to call you that. I know he doesn't fully understand it, but still. And I'm really grateful for the relationship you have with him and how much and the way you love him and help me with him. Not every man would be okay with that or willing to take on a kid, much less a baby. So, it's really okay Jack, for him to call you Dada, I promise. As long as it's okay with you, of course."

Jack's smile grows a bit. "It's okay with me, yeah." He gets a bit of a shy look to him and looks down at your son. "I like it," he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. For some reason he feels like he should say he likes it even though love is the more accurate verb.

You reach over and run your hand through Jack's hair, let it slide to the back of his neck and squeeze. "Good, I'm glad."

Your son saying it again brings both of your attentions back to him. You and Jack take more videos as he keeps repeating it, both of you praising him and giving him kisses and tickling him to make him laugh.

Jack starts to take another video as your son says it again, "Dada, Dada, Dada."

You take in an excited break and get your son to look at you. "What about mama? Can you say mama? Mama, mama." You slow down the last two words and exaggerate pronouncing them and your mouth movements to help your son see.

"Say mama!" Jack encourages him too. "Mama, mama."

Your son looks between you and Jack with a huge smile on his face, basking in both of your attention and matching your excitement. "Dada!"

You and Jack crack up because it's so perfect, such a baby thing to do. "Of course not," you laugh. "Only dada."

"Dada!" your son laughs again crawling off your lap and over into Jack's. He stops recording, smiles and chuckles at your son as he supports your son standing on his thighs. Jack leans into your son, moving his face to kiss dramatically at the small palms that rest on his cheeks just to hear your son laugh more.

Jack loves it, hearing your son call him that, and is so excited and touched and happy and proud, but as it really starts to sink in it also throws him. Hard.

Your son's first word was ‘dada.’ To a man that’s not his father. Jack feels like he took that from your husband, like he stole it and he’s somehow overstepping, like he just crossed some huge line and you're going to end up hating him or resenting him for it. He worries it's going to seem like he wants to try and replace your husband in your son's life when he doesn't. He doesn't want that at all. He wants your son to know his father.

So part of him feels awful and like one of the worst people in the world for being so excited and truly happy at your son effectively calling him dada. He knows you're excited about it and that you said it's okay and it makes sense because that is pretty much the role Jack has in his life, but it's still hard for him, he's still almost torn about it and how he should feel and if he's allowed to be happy or if he should offer to try and get your son to not call him it. And while he knows you wouldn't lie to him he can't help but wonder if you're really okay with it. If part of you doesn't like it and resents him over it. If it's such a big thing that it's going to make all of this crash down around you in a way you're not ready for.

Jack slips deep into his head about it, starts to get a little more subdued, quieter and a bit less expressive. But he isn't aware that it's noticeable, that you can tell he's getting in his head and that you're worrying something is wrong. Anxiety starts to flood you a little bit.

"I should go finish dinner, since Mama started it this morning." He nods at your son with a soft smile. Even with as small as it is you can still see the adoration he has for your son in the way his eyes crinkle. "Mama," he exaggerates the word, "put it all in the slow cooker, didn't she? That was very nice of Mama. Been smelling good all day, hasn't it?"

Your son giggles at the facial expressions Jack makes at him as Jack speaks and answers him with another, "Dada!"

"I'll finish it off," you tell Jack, gesturing for him to stay sitting. "You should stay sitting and rest. You're about to be on your feet for the better part of twelve hours."

"Okay," he says a little quietly, nodding once with a small smile.

You linger for just a second as you appraise him again, swallowing hard. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He cocks his head at you.

"I don't know. I just like to check. But good, I'm glad you are." You squeeze his arm and stand up, make your way into the kitchen and get started.

But you glance over at your son and Jack as you finish off dinner. Jack is noticeably quieter with your son. Or maybe it just seems that way, you tell yourself. Maybe it just seems that way because your son is saying dada to Jack over and over again and babbling even more. It also doesn't escape your notice that as much as Jack is smiling and telling your son he's proud of him and doing such a good job talking and he's so smart, Jack is constantly saying mama to try and get your son to say it. And you can't decide if it's because he just wants your son to say it for you or if it's because he doesn't want your son calling him dada.

You know he said he liked it and that he wouldn't lie to you but you also get how it's a big thing. Something that might make it too real for him. You try not to think about it too much as you finish up, but it's hard not to. "Hey, dinner's ready," you call over to Jack as you set the last of it on the table.

"We'll be right there," he calls back as he stands up and then grabs your son before walking over.

As you get some dinner squared away for your son on his high chair tray you debate whether to bring it up. Jack only has about twenty-five minutes before he has to leave and you don't want to upset him by asking if he's okay again or make eating dinner and the last of your time with him awkward. Jack knows he can talk to you about anything, so if something was wrong he would tell you. Right? He's just tired like he said. This is fourth shift in a row and the last before he's off.

It's just that there's been such a change since you got home, a noticeable shift in his demeanor and behavior since it happened. You worry your lip between your teeth as you sit at the table.

Jack arrives at the table with your son, slipping him in his high chair and getting him buckled in before sitting at the table himself. "It smells good, thank you." He smiles at you as he dishes some onto his plate.

You really wish you could shut your brain off because all it's doing right now is overthinking every single one of Jack's movements and words and the things he doesn't say and how he says what he does say. There's no pet name at the end of that sentence where there normally would be. That has to mean something. But then he did smile at you like he normally does.

"Your day was good?" Jack asks as you both eat. "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier after you asked. We got a little distracted." He forces a lopsided smile. He's still pretty deep in his head about it.

You can tell his smile is forced. It doesn't even begin to reach his eyes and it makes your stomach plummet. The scrap of hunger and ability to eat that had been poking through your anxiety induced nausea disappears. "It was okay, yeah, thank you. Just a typical day, nothing exciting either good or bad." You smile at him and make sure it meets your eyes even if it's weak. But you look over at your son pretty quickly.

You're not really eating now as much as you are just pushing the small serving of food you took around your plate. Jack notices. He's an observer. It's how he makes sure you're okay, how he makes sure the people he loves and cares about are okay. He noticed the smaller serving you took but didn't think too much of it because sometimes you do that and go back for seconds. But this is just not eating. You're stressed or anxious or both or feeling some other emotion so intensely it's preventing you from being able to eat and Jack doesn't like that at all.

He would think maybe you're upset that your son called him dada but you were so excited and he doesn't want to think you're upset about it. You'd reassured Jack that it was okay and that it was really the role he has in your son's life so it made sense. If you'd been upset he would have picked up on it then. He knows he would've. But maybe the reality of him calling your son dada is just hitting you now. Maybe the grief it has to be dragging up is really settling in.

"Hey," Jack gets your attention softly between bites of his own. "What's up?" When you look back at him Jack glances at your plate and then back up to you to let you know he knows something is up with how little you're eating.

You let out a small breath, try half-heartedly to make it a little laugh. "I'm just emotional about him talking." It's not a lie. You are emotional about it. "He's just getting so big and I love watching him grow and be able to do new things but there's that piece of my heart that can't handle my baby not being my little baby anymore."

Jack's quite sure that's not the entirety of what's bothering you, but he doesn't really know how to try and coax more out of you, especially with as little time as he has left with you before he has to leave. Maybe you're just not ready to talk about whatever it is. He's sure you have to be thinking about your husband, that it has to stir up some grief. And in this instance Jack might be the last person you want to talk to about that grief with.

He nods slowly and finishes chewing his bite. "That makes sense, yeah." He looks over at your son who's messily feeding himself dinner and chuckles at him which earns him a happy smile from your son. "It's crazy to think about how much he's grown just since I met him. So I can only imagine." He goes to say more and follow up with you but your son interrupts him.

"Dada, dada!" Your son claps his hands together as he makes grabby hands at Jack.

"You gotta finish your food there, Kid." Jack smiles at him, pointing to the tray. As he goes to lean in and help your son eat he glances at his watch. 18:20. It stops him from leaning in towards your son. "Shit, yeah, and I've gotta go get dressed for work." He shoots you an apologetic smile as he finishes off his last few bites and gets up from the table to go change. It doesn't meet his eyes again.

Your heart falls as you watch Jack walk away from you. He's never not at least leaned in towards your son when your son has reached for him from his high chair. You're certain something has to be very wrong. Maybe your son calling him dada has made this too real for Jack somehow, has really made him realize the full implications of being with you and you having a son and that he has a parental role. Maybe it's too much for him and he's realizing he doesn't really want that. Maybe he's not going to come back once he leaves tonight except to get his things. Maybe he's going to tell you it's all over.

You try to push aside those thoughts because you know they're irrational and just your anxiety lying to you. Jack is not the kind of man who would ever do that, just decide it's over and never come back other than to get his stuff. You know that. But your rational and logical brain isn't in control right now.

While Jack gets ready you go into the kitchen and grab a container to put some dinner in for Jack to have as lunch. You throw a couple of other things in the bag with it and leave some protein bars on top for him to put in his pockets because that's more likely what he's going to have time to eat. You sit back at the table while you wait for him, grab your son from his chair now that he's done eating and clean him up with a baby wipe.

Jack shuts the door to what's effectively his room now and sits on the edge of his bed. He takes in and lets out a long breath. He can't stop fixating on the idea that he's taking this away from your husband and that he's awful for being happy about it. He can't help but worry that you're growing upset about it and don't want your son calling him dada, and don't want him in anything close to that role. He can't shut his brain off just like you can't.

And he knows something more than just being emotional about your son talking is up with you. You just seem sad or upset, the smiles you've given him have only just reached your eyes. Maybe the grief this is stirring up is different this time. Maybe you're realizing this is a little too much, that your son is calling someone else dada and you aren't ready for Jack to have that title and role. Maybe it's not something you're going to be able to move past. Maybe tomorrow night you're going to break this whole thing off, romantically and even as just a friendship and Jack's going to lose you and your son.

God, maybe he should float the idea so that you don't feel bad about doing it, breaking up with him. Maybe he should break up with you because maybe it would help you, maybe it would be what's best for you. He knows that's totally off the fucking rails and hates himself for even thinking about it. He doesn't get to decide what would help you or what would be best for you. Like all the other thoughts do, these ones linger.

There's something else throwing Jack too but he can't put his finger on what it is, can't get it to come to the surface. He's sure it's because his brain doesn't want to have to deal with that and at the moment he's kind of fine with it.

He forces himself up and to throw on an undershirt and scrub top, his usual cargo-style scrub pants. There's a part of him that wishes he could call out and stay here and get your son to bed and then talk to you and try to get a read on where you're at, maybe explain some of his feelings. He knows the two of you talking and communicating is absolutely what needs to happen right now. It doesn't necessarily have to be a long drawn out thing, just something. But there's a part of him that's ready to get out and to work where he'll be distracted and won't have to really confront any emotions about it and won't have to hear you break up with him or something.

Jack knows his thoughts are irrational. He knows you love the relationship he has with your son, knows how thankful and grateful you are for it. He knows this is anxiety lying to him. You're not the kind of woman who's just going to be done because this one thing brings up hard emotions. Jack knows that because lots of things have brought up lots of hard emotions since you met each other and officially got together and you're still together. But like you, his rational and logical brain isn't really in control on that side of things right now.

So maybe work will be good and help him process things better, because his rational and logical brain will be so on while he's there, that's the zone he'll be in. Maybe he can kind of transfer it over to all of this and it'll be better and he can calm himself down.

He spends way longer than he means to in his room getting changed. Of course you overthink that. It means he's rushing when he comes out of his room. "Oh, thank you for doing that, you didn't have to." He gives you a grateful smile that just meets his eyes when he sees you've thrown together some lunch for him and left protein bars out which he shoves in his pockets. You pretty much always get his lunch together if you're around when he leaves, but Jack doesn't take the fact that you do for granted.

You smile back at him. It's weak again, but a smile nonetheless. One that also just meets your eyes. "I know, but I like to."

Jack nods and glances at his watch. 18:30. "I've gotta go, I'm sorry." You shake your head. He doesn't have anything to be sorry for. You stand and follow him towards the front door, sway back and forth with your son as he changes the foot on his prosthetic and gets his shoe on his other foot. "Be good for mama, yeah?" He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head toward your son as he stands back up, leaning in and kissing his cheek, lingering for just a second. "Bye, Kid," he whispers. You tell yourself it doesn't look like or sound like a total goodbye, just a see you later. But your brain is warping everything. "You be good too," he murmurs to you as he pulls you in for a quick hug and kiss.

He's releasing you and opening the front door quickly. It's really because he's running a little late, but in your brain it's because he can't wait to get the fuck out of here and be free of you. He doesn't use a pet name, there's no 'see you tomorrow morning' like there usually is when he's watching your son the next day. Your brain tells you it's because he's not coming back and you need to plan to take your son to daycare in the morning.

"Bye," you call after him. "Have a good shift." He nods at you.

Jack shuts the front door behind him and for the first time you find yourself worrying about whether he’s going to come back.

I hope it was okay that you enjoyed! I would love to hear your thoughts and comments! All of your interactions give me so much joy and inspiration! Thank you for all your support and for reading!! ♥️

I still have a lot of ideas for these two so I hope you're ready for and looking forward to more!

Want more Jack? Check out my masterlist here!

Want to be added to my Jack tag list? Interact with this post!

Interact with this post if you'd like to join my Robby tag list, and this post if you'd like to join my Andrew Pope Cody tag list! Each tag list is separate, so be sure to interact with each post for each character you'd like to be tagged for!

Divider by @saradika-graphics.

Tag list:

@loveyhoneydovey @love-affair-with-fandoms @mstrsgoodgrl0628 @equallyshaw @kmc1989 @artsymaddie @moonshooter @whiskeyhowlett-writes @smallcarbigwheels @hawkswildfireheart @blackwidownat2814 @viridian-dagger @andabuttonnose @beebeechaos @pear-1206 @starkgaryan @travelingmypassion @marvelcasey05 @daydreamingallthetime-world @millenialcatlady @nursejuju86 @escapefromrealitysm @emilia527 @satanxklaus @frazie99 @kastleandmurdock @guardiancardigan @zoctopiii @4rosabellaa @adissapointmentlol @nowandajenn @book-of-roses @redzscare @concentratedconcrete @freshbearbouquetblr @qardasngan @practicalghost @wolviehugh @athena1504 @iamcryingonceagain @acn87 @moonpascal @lostfleurs @beltzboys2015-blog @pouges-world @roseanddaggerlarry @lauraneedstochill @robbyrobinavitch @shesaidshemight

[beautifulandvoid]

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

[beautifulandvoid]

Just as a update for those who might also read my stuff on Ao3, my username on there has changed. So now both here and there are Beautifulandvoid.

[beautifulandvoid]

matchy match — andrew "pope" cody x fem!reader In which Lena gifts you a friendship bracelet that looks identical to Pope's.

this is just a fluff blurb, no warnings

Lena catches you off-guard when she suddenly gifts you a bracelet. It’s carefully made, strung with beads in your eye color and warm hazel tones, decorated with tiny flowers and hearts. You smile sweetly at her. “Sweetie, it’s your birthday. Why are you giving me gifts, huh?”

She grins, “It’s a friendship bracelet! Uncle Pope has one, too.”

Your eyes drift toward the pool, where Pope is nursing a beer, half-listening as J talks his ear off. Sure enough, you spot a matching bracelet on his wrist—beads glinting in the sun. Your heart stumbles a little.

He catches your gaze and holds it for a beat too long, his expression softening in a subtle way only you can read. Then J says something and Pope looks away.

You glance back at Lena, smiling. “I love it, honey. Thank you.” You press a kiss to the top of her head, and she grabs your hand, tugging you toward her room to show off her new haul of stuffed animals.

You watch her unwrap your gift next—a unicorn-themed tea set—and she squeals in delight, immediately tearing into the box. Plastic cakes and pastries are soon arranged with chaotic precision as she lays out tiny cups and saucers for a tea party.

A few minutes later, Pope steps into the doorway. He stands there for a moment, watching the two of you endearingly. “Can I join the tea party?” He asks.

Lena scrambles to make space. Pope crouches down and settles into a tiny chair that was previously occupied by a stuffed bear. He’s far too big for it, knees nearly to his chest, but he doesn’t complain. He just looks at you with a small, amused smile that makes your chest flutter.

“Hi,” He says softly.

“Hi,” You return his smile.

You’ve known Pope for a while. He brings Lena down to the pier sometimes, and that’s where you first met them—when Lena reached for your hand while learning how to skate. You fell in love with her immediately, with her courage and the way she talks like she’s known you forever.

As for her uncle? You never expected to develop feelings for him—he’s godly handsome, that you’ve noticed since day one, but when Pope started picking random flowers he sees on your walks together and tucks them behind your ear?

That’s when you knew you were in trouble.

Pope grabs his tiny teacup and that’s when you notice the details on the bracelet Lena gave him. It’s similar—no, it’s identical to yours, but very different from Lena’s.

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Sweetie? How come your bracelet’s different from mine and your uncle Pope’s? Did you run out of beads?” You ask her, “Want me to get you some more next time?”

Lena shakes her head. “Nope! Couples wear matchy stuff. So I made yours match.”

You blink at her. Couples?

Pope almost chokes on his pretend-tea.

“Uncle Pope, you gotta drink slower!” Lena scolds, handing him a unicorn napkin.

You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you’re not sure if Pope can tell you’re flustered.

Lena runs out after that when Smurf calls her, saying it’s time for cake, leaving you and Pope in her bubblegum-colored room, surrounded by pretend cakes and stuffed animals.

You look at him.

He’s already looking at you.

The two of you stand up and almost bump into each other.

“So—” “We should—”

You both stop, talking over each other, and it makes you laugh—soft and nervous. You glance up at him through your lashes, heart fluttering. Pope’s already watching you like you hung the moon. Your smile falters slightly, overwhelmed by the weight of that look.

And he doesn’t say anything—he just reaches up, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingers, and it’s enough to make your breath catch.

Pope tilts his head slightly, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, and back again.

So you lean in slightly, and Pope meets you the rest of the way. He presses his lips to yours with slight urgency, like he’s been holding this in for too long. He kisses you warmly, his hand settling gently at the side of your neck as you melt into him.

When you pull away, your noses brush. He doesn’t open his eyes right away. Neither do you.

“Can’t believe it took Lena for us to actually do this.” You whisper.

Pope chuckles. “Better late than never.”

[beautifulandvoid]

Michael Robinavitch + Spicy Polaroids on Your Wedding Day

Robby is anxious on your wedding day, and you knew he would be. You knew he would rub his neck raw with his calloused hands, pace back and forth in his tailored tuxedo, nearly strangle Jack for yapping his ear off in an effort to calm him down.

You knew your almost-husband better than you knew yourself. That’s why you devised a plan with your bridesmaids to help distract him.

Samira is the first to visit him and the other groomsmen. She uses Jack as an excuse for her presence, fixing his bow tie and making sure his socks were solid black. But before she leaves, she spots Robby staring out the window, opening and closing his hands at his side. She gives him a hug of reassurance, tells him he looks nice, then slips a small item in the pocket of his tux jacket before leaving. With a raised eyebrow, Robby carefully pulls it out. A small square with…

Oh.

Oh.

A Polaroid picture of you in white, lacy lingerie. Grabbing your breast, squishing them together, mouth open in dramatic bliss.

Holy fuck.

Robby’s face turns deep crimson within seconds. He thinks that he’ll faint if he looks at the photo any longer and have an untimely accident in his boxers. He shoves it deep in his tux pocket again, but his groomsmen don’t miss the damning flush across his face.

“Need some water, Rob?” Jack asks from where he stands near the door.

Robby swallows hard and nods. “Yeah, I think so.” He barely squeaks out.

The next bridesmaid to enter the room is Santos. It’s under the guise of reminding the groomsmen that the photographer will arrive soon for group pictures. Robby is sipping his water slowly, trying to shake that Polaroid out of his head. You looked so perfect, so beautiful, so soft, so-

“You alright, Cap?” Santos asks, arms crossed.

Robby smiles and nods. “I’m fine.” Lie.

Santos raises an eyebrow, eyeing the white corner of the Polaroid slightly sticking out of his tux pocket. She flips out a second Polaroid, in between her fingers like a cigarette.

“This might help take off the edge.” She transfers the small picture to his grasp before walking out.

Robby chokes on his water this time. You’re laying on the mattress, chest down, ass up, the white lingerie squeezing in the best places, your eyes gazing into the camera. He’s seen you in that position so many times, but never at this angle. He thinks he might actually die before he can say his vows to you.

Langdon comes up to slap Robby on the back, knocking the stray water out of his lungs. Robby quickly conceals the Polaroid, hiding it with the first one. Now, he has a fucking stash.

The next one comes from Ellis. She’s the one who helps lead Robby to the rooftop for your first look. His hands are trembling, his heart is beating far too fast and probably out of sinus rhythm, his breaths are staggered. But the night shift resident just grabs him by the shoulders.

“Robby, breathe. She’s almost here. You’re gonna feel better when you see her.” Ellis does her best to calm him.

Robby opens his mouth to speak but can only nod. He is fighting the urge to run his hands through his perfectly combed and neat hair. Ellis smirks and flashes a Polaroid in front of his eyes.

“Use this in the mean time.” She says, shoving it in his hands before prancing away to help you with the train of your dress.

This Polaroid featured you, suddenly bare of the gorgeous white lingerie from the previous two photos, hands covering your nipples, your thighs angled just enough to hide your pussy, your hair splayed around a pillow.

Robby nearly falls to his knees. Thank God he listened to Jack’s advice of wearing compression shorts, or else these first look photos would have to be from the waist up. Hopefully, the photographer you booked can photoshop his skin back to a normal color instead of the beat red that crawled up his neck.

When you finally tap his shoulder, beckoning your fiance to turn around, Robby wastes no time to see you. You look like a dream. The beautiful white dress, the elegant veil, the gorgeous cascade of flowers in your hands. His entire future right before his eyes. It’s all too much, and the tears fall fast.

Robby pulls you close, impossibly tight, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup. Whispering his love for you in your ear, trying to catch his breath before his tears turn into uncontrollable sobs. Your eyes are watering, and you try to ground yourself by squeezing his neck tighter.

“‘M sorry for being such a mess.” He breathes with a laugh. “Just been waiting for this all day.”

You nod, breathing in the cologne you loved so much, the one he picked just for your wedding day. “Me too. The only person who can calm me down is the only person I wasn’t allowed to see.” You giggle to mask a cry.

Robby pulls away to look at you, using a large thumb to brush away the tear that rolls down your cheek. “Oh, God, you’re so beautiful.” He says before pulling you close for a kiss.

You smile into the kiss, enjoying the warmth of his lips on yours. “Me? Look at you, Doctor Robinavitch. You clean up pretty nice.” You tease.

Robby chuckles and pinches your side. “Hey, at least we’re out of scrubs, yeah?” He jokes along with you.

You pull away from his embrace to take a full look at him, never letting go of his hands though. You spy the Polaroids, your gifts to him, tucked into his tux pocket. A devilish smirk pulls at your mouth.

“Did you like the pictures?” You ask.

Robby freezes for a moment. The pictures. From the moment he saw you in your dress, his mind was only filled with love and joy and your future together. But now he was being lured back to a darker, sinful place.

“You little minx.” He hisses lowly, but his smile betrays him.

You shrug innocently and pull one last Polaroid out from the pocket (yes, it has pockets!!) of your wedding dress.

“Maybe this will hold you over until tonight?” You suggest.

Robby takes the Polaroid from you, and he lets out a pathetic moan that turns into a chuckle. You’re laying on the bed, hiding nothing, your fingers inside your wet pussy, your mouth sucking on one of your own tits. He can feel himself straining against those compression shorts, and his mind starts fantasizing about all the ways he is going to take you apart tonight.

“Jesus, kid.” He manages to croak. “Who took this?”

You giggle and take the photo from his hands, slotting it into his pocket with the rest of his collection. “Self-timer.” You answer.

Robby swallows thickly and grabs your hips, not too tight because the photographer is still snapping photos from a distance. “And where did you get that pretty white thing?” He questions lowly.

You press a sweet kiss to his lips, reveling in the way a hot, frustrated huff leaves his nostrils and fans across your face. “Had it made. Just for you.”

“Just for me?”

“Mmhmm.”

Robby shakes his head with a grin, feeling younger than he has in years. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Though the question is rhetorical, you can’t help yourself from teasing him further. “Just wait until you see what I’m wearing under this.”

Later that night, when Robby slowly undresses you, his wife, he’s met with that same white lingerie set that had been taunting him all day. No longer in a tiny Polaroid frame, he can trace every single lacy detail, down to the panties, where you had the seamstress embroider the word “Michael” right above the bikini line.

[beautifulandvoid]

Baby

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, breeding kink, slight mirror sex

Description: A text from Robby turns into a heavy request at work.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

--

Every now and then, Robby texted you to meet him for coffee while the Pitt was suspiciously calm. Sometimes, he came to your office for a quick kiss and snatched one of the candies from the jar on your desk. But this was a little different.

Meet me in call room 3 in about 10 minutes.

So you finished up the note you were scribing in a patient’s chart and headed downstairs. You entered the on-call room slowly, peeking in to make sure nobody was occupying it. When you found it empty, you stepped in and shut the door behind you. The room had a twin-sized bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a full-length mirror. You’ve spent many nights in one of these rooms, usually when a blizzard crosses Pennsylvania, rendering it dangerous to travel home. You sat on the edge of the bed, switching the lamp on to bring some warm light into the dark room.

The door creaked open, and Robby carefully slid through before closing it again. “Hey, stranger.” He whispered. He didn’t make his way over to you like you had expected him to.

You smiled and tilted your head. “Hey. Why are we in here?” You asked, not sure of what he had in mind.

Robby stood tall in front of the door, nearly rivaling its height. His gold chain glimmered in the low light of the room as he shifted his weight on his feet. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet or so…timid? His eyes moved from you to the ground.

You furrowed your brow and stood to meet him. “Baby, are you okay?” You asked, reaching your hands to the collar of his worn hoodie.

Robby just nodded, but you could see on his face that the gears in his brain were turning. Like he was actively planning what to say. You rubbed soothing circles on his broad chest, something you did whenever he had a panic attack or trouble speaking. After what seemed like hours, he broke the silence.

“Do you want to have my baby?”

Your hand froze in place on his chest. The wind was knocked out of you. All you could do was stare at your boyfriend in the low glow of the room and blink. You and Robby had been dating for a year and a half. In secret. Nobody within the hospital, especially the administration, knew about it. And he wanted to have a baby? The most public thing a couple could do aside from a big white wedding? Sure, you had come to terms with the fact that you were dating an older man who may be past that point in his life. But even though you wanted it deep down, you never expected him to bring it up. You always assumed it would be a happy accident and-

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Robby’s voice cut through the silence, and you couldn’t quite place the tone.

You took in a breath, realizing you had been holding it this entire time. “You want a baby?” Was all you could whisper.

Robby nodded and scratched the back of his neck, his nervous tick. “I’ve been…thinking about it. For a while now. But I just didn’t know how to say it.” He explained, looking away from your eyes. “We had a patient this morning who was…of my century.” He began, and the edges of your lips curled into a small grin at his storytelling. “He had his wife and two young daughters with him. He kept thanking me over and over because we saved his life. He kept talking about how happy he was to have his daughters, even that late in his life. And…”

You tilted your head so that your eyes met his line of vision. “And?”

He reached up and grasped your hand that still rested on his chest. “And I want that with you. I want to have a family with you, I want to watch our kids go off to college. If I wait any longer, I might not be able to see them go to high school.” He continued. 

You felt tears prick your eyes as he spoke. You squeezed his hand tightly and let out a breathy laugh. “I want that, too.” You whispered.

Robby smiled slowly, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “You do?” He asked.

You grinned and placed your hands on either side of his face. “Yes, Robby. Michael. I really want it.” You assured him, and the tears fell down your cheeks.

Robby grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in close for a kiss. Your hands slid to his peppered hair, pulling him even closer. The kiss was firm and passionate but quickly progressed to one of need. Robby shoved your white coat off your shoulders and tossed it to the bed. You pulled away slightly to laugh at him. 

“Oh, are we doing this now?” You teased.

Robby grinned and unzipped his hoodie, giving it the same fate as your white coat. “Oh, absolutely.” He said before pulling you back in.

He left hot, wet kisses on your mouth that slowly trailed down your neck, dragging his teeth along your soft skin. You felt your skin prickle and shoved your hands under his scrub top, running your fingers across his decently toned abdomen. His hands moved to your ass, and he tapped the back of your thigh, signaling you to jump up. You grabbed his neck and hopped to wrap your legs around his waist. He securely carried you to the bed and laid your body down. He snatched at your scrub bottoms, pulling your panties down with them in one quick motion. While you threw your top off, he removed his.

You pulled him back, relishing the sensation of his burning hot skin on yours. He returned to kissing your lips, your neck, and anything he could get access to while his hand slid down to brush over your core. His fingers barely touched your sopping wet pussy, and he chuckled. “Oh, is all this for me? So I can fuck a baby into you?”

You shuddered at his words and swallowed hard. “Yes.” You managed to say, grasping his shoulders tightly as he teased your entrance.

“Then let’s stretch you out.” He said before shoving one finger into your pussy.

Even that alone made your toes curl and back arch. You shook your head. “No, I want you now.” You pleaded.

Robby shook his head and started playing with your clit with his thumb. “No, love. It takes three before you’re ready. Don’t rush it.” He reminded you.

You squirmed in frustration, wanting more but knowing he was right. He added a second finger, and your walls squeezed around the added diameter. “Robby, please. Please, please let me have you.” You begged.

Robby reached for the drawstrings on his scrub pants and pulled them. “You’re almost there. You’re being such a good girl for me.” He assured.

Your eyes watched his hands pull his pants down and revealed his boxers struggling to suppress his massive cock. You let out a shaky breath as Robby began to tease your slits with the third finger. When it sank in, you squeezed your eyes shut in blissful pain. “Oh, God, Robby. Please.” And you don’t really know what you were begging for this time. Because you knew what was next.

Robby pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy, the squelching sounds filling the otherwise silent room. “I know, I know. You’re almost ready.” He soothed, pressing a kiss against your temple.

The sweat was already beading at your neck. You reached for the outline of his cock in his boxers and wrapped your hand around what you could. Robby let out a hiss as you slowly rubbed the fabric, creating a friction that he was craving. He finally picked you up with his free arm and sat you down in his lap, back to his chest. He shoved his boxers down and spit on his hand, rubbing the saliva on his own cock for extra lubricant.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as he continued to finger you, letting out pitiful sounds of frustration. Robby kissed your shoulder and reached for your face. He adjusted your head to look straight at the wall. In front of you was the full length mirror that came with every on-call room. You were met with the reflection of Robby fingering you open, with his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“You’re gonna watch while I fuck this baby in you. You understand?” He growled low in your ear.

You shuddered and nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

You swallowed hard, trying to adjust to his three fingers pumping in and out of you. “Yes sir.” You breathed.

And with your answer, Robby replaced his fingers with his cock. He slowly pushed into you, one hand on your lower stomach as he did. You just knew he could feel himself pushing deeper and deeper until he maxed out. Tears fell from your eyes as he stretched you open. 

“Fuck, baby.” You hissed.

Robby didn’t move, and let you adjust to his length. He brushed the hair out of your eyes and peppered kisses along your cheek and neck. “Shhh…you’re doing so good, love. It’s almost over.” He whispered.

Your hands reached back behind you, grasping the back of his neck. The pain began to slowly neutralize, and your labored breaths were more steady. You gave him a small nod to keep going. Robby grabbed your hips and slowly pulled out, releasing the tension in your pussy, just to slam back in ruthlessly. If you had been at home, you would have screamed bloody murder, but all you could do was bite into your bottom lip. Robby repeated his motions, slowly out, pounding back in, creating a steadily faster rhythm. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and the sight in the mirror was too much. Robby fucking you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, the glint from his gold chain glaring off the reflection. You grabbed his biceps and squeezed tightly. “Robby, I-” You tried to say. “I’m gonna come.” 

Robby let out a breathy laugh, maintaining his bruising pace. “That’s right, love. Come for me.” He whispered.

You felt the white hot burning in your stomach explode across your body, walls pulsating around his cock and lubricating even more. Robby continued to whisper a string of praises as you went limp in his arms. He held you up, continuing to pound into you at the same unrelenting pace, but you could tell that he was beginning to falter. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself into your pussy, grunting as he did. You could feel each rope of cum burst inside you as he finished, and you felt a new excitement in your chest that you never had before.

When Robby was able to catch his breath, he turned your face to kiss your lips gently. “I hope you have a few more minutes before your next appointment.” He said. “Because we’re gonna sit here until I know you’re pregnant.”

[beautifulandvoid]

The One With The Fertility Tea (Sentry x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob have been wanting to start a family for a while but need a little extra boost

Warnings: Mentions of starting a family, fertility struggles, eventual pregnancy, mentions of religion, mentions of smut etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @beautifulandvoid @withahappyrefrain @ateliefloresdaprimavera @sebsxphia @whatisthismandoinghere

August was probably one of the easier months in Asgard and yet, you and the gang had often grown a little sad, knowing August was the tail end of summer, the cold months due to set in with their burning colors and the frigid Nordic winters not much further behind them.

The first day of August usually entailed tons of bread baking with your huge family of Avengers, a tradition that Thor's family was quick to introduce to everyone. Some of the loaves you kept for yourselves, but the first ones out of the oven were to be given to the food pantries, the shelters or to the local church back home. Bob had already perfected his recipe for sourdough and had offered to bring a loaf or two to Father Martin when you returned to New York for a week. It was the least he could do for the priest who had been Bob's therapist for the last two years.

Bob had been out in the tea fields with Thor, Clint, Namor and Bucky, the morning already sweltering but the five more than appreciative for the guy time. Reed joined them a little while later, happy to be out of the house for a little while to give Sue some space with Franklin.

"Index finger and thumb with the plants," Thor told Bob, adjusting the baseball cap covering his short crop of hair. "Don't wanna yank up the whole plant."

"Thanks Thor," Bob answered, practicing a little bit.

It took him a minute or two before he really got the hang of it, but once Bob got going, it became like second nature to him. All of them worked away in the fresh, hazy morning light, picking away and stowing the leaves into the tightly woven baskets.

Thor couldn't help but notice the slightly crestfallen look on his friend's face as he picked away. Sure, Bob often got a sad look in his eye from time to time, usually when he received a message from his biological parents trying to wheedle their way back into his life, only for Bob to outright tell them no. But this? This seemed to be on a whole other level.

"Alright my friend," Thor sighed. "Talk to me, what's eating you?"

Bob didn't want to tell him. "It's a little embarrassing," he admitted. "I dunno if I should."

"Bob there's no judgement here," Thor told him. "We're all men and we all go through whatever it is you're going through. Now spill it."

Bob bit his lip and picked at the dirt under his fingernail. "(Y/n) and I are trying to start a family and......it's just.......it's just taking longer than we thought."

Thor knitted his eyebrows together. "How long have you two been trying?" he asked.

"Since we got married," Bob admitted. "That was a year and a half ago."

Thor smiled understandingly. "Well," he said. "If I may, I think the secret to your struggle lies here in the field."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is this," Thor explained. "You and (y/n) have been trying but aren't really getting anywhere. Things might be a little bit slow at both ends, which is understandable. BUT, it just needs a little shove in the right direction."

"And that would entail......?"

"This," Thor answered, handing him a small metal cannister.

Bob scratched his bare chest as he read the list of what was in the cannister, ashwagandha, ginseng root, jasmine, green tea leaves, blackberry leaf, all of which were familiar to him, but that he had never had in tea form. But then the realization hit him.

"Is this for uh.......???"

"Yup," Thor chuckled. "Two in the morning and two at night, no more, no less. Here's one for (y/n) too if it'll help."

He handed another one to Bob who read the list, just as he had done with the first. Red raspberry leaf, nettle leaf, peppermint and chasteberry had all been dried and carefully loaded into the cannister, its earthy scent filling Bob's nostrils.

"You think it'll work?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out," Thor answered.

********************************

You took the boule bread out of the oven to cool, placing it carefully on the cooling rack on the butcher block counter. The smell of the baking loaves had filled the whole house while you had opened the kitchen window above the sink, the checkered red and white gingham curtains fluttering a little in the breeze while the birds chirped ceaselessly.

You heard the door in the living room close and Bob kicking off his boots just a minute later. You felt your cheeks growing a little hot when you saw him walk in wearing nothing but his jeans, carrying his dark blue t-shirt in one hand and the two silver cannisters in the other.

"Whatcha got there baby?" you asked.

"Just a little something I was gonna make us," Bob answered. "Wanna peek?"

You peeked a little bit at the ingredients, your eyebrows raising a little. "Well now," you chuckled. "Trying to get a little boost?"

Bob bit his lip, smiling broadly. "Thor said it might be worth trying."

You giggled a little bit as Bob leaned in and kissed you sweetly. You filled the kettle on the stove, waiting till it whistled before you poured the water into yours and Bob's favorite mugs. The little ball infusers were filled with the loose leaves and left to steep in the water and when they were done, you and Bob enjoyed them and the company of each other.

But an hour later, you were enjoying each other's company a little more than you had initially thought.

As soon as the tea had gotten into your system, you and Bob couldn't keep your hands off each other.

It was all a complete blur. You didn't remember much, only that he had fucked you thoroughly in the kitchen first, then the living room and finally in your shared bed.

A few days later, you and Bob were over the moon when you had not one, not two, but nine different pregnancy tests all in rows of three lined up on the bathroom vanity.

As for the teas? You would keep those in the pantry, just in case they would be needed again.

[beautifulandvoid]

𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 {1}

chapter summary; Robby gets to know you're a virgin. Unexpectedly, he offers to change that.

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

rating: Mature

chapter no: Chapter 1/? 𝗈𝖿 𝖮𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍

wc; 10.5k

tags/warnings; mentions of canon type injuries/gore/violence, fem!reader, virgin!reader, resident/attending power dynamics, age-gap, slow-burn, drinking

Author; @lucis-dove

a/n: IT IS HERE PEOPLE AND WE ARE STARTING OF WITH A BANG (if any of you think you'll receive chapters below 3k for this series, you're gravely mistaken)

"Ouch."

You refrain from rolling your eyes at the man. Not because of his injury, no. Riding a bike and being hit by a car isn't the best way to start your morning. Even if he got lucky with no internal damage and no fractures, only scrapes along his legs and hands, and a suit torn to shreds. 

But he can't feel it, not right now.

It will without a doubt throb in pain later, but you'd given him enough lidocaine to properly numb the irritated skin for you to clean the wound and wrap it up.

"I'm sorry," you apologise, softening your tone to ease the frustrated furrow he stares at his leg with, even if you wanted to call out his hissy-fit. 

His attention switches to you. Thankfully, the annoyance melts from his body as he sighs.

"Yeah, thanks, I guess… for the patchwork." He waves aimlessly with his bandaged hand. You decide to only smile and nod as you stand from your rolling seat. 

As you step towards the trash can, you dispose of the sterilisation pad and your gloves. The typical blue rubber tinted, more so smudged, somewhat red. It's considerably less than what you're used to. 

"You did well, so my work was easy," you smile at the man as you walk over to the computer in the corner. You notice how his back straightens after your comment. 

It was surprising how much a little compliment could do with some patients. However, it wasn't surprising that it worked wonders in stroking that man's ego, considering he'd complained more about his newly tailored suit than his health when he first arrived.

"I've prescribed you an antibiotic ointment to help against infection," you inform him, typing in some extra notes in his journal before looking at him. "You'll have to change the dressing once a day after dabbing it clean with some water and applying the cream."

His face twists. "Every day?" 

There's almost a petulant whine to his question, one you brush off with a cock of your head, smile still on your face. Although you're starting to struggle to make it appear genuine.

"It may ruin your tanning abilities, but at least it will help the healing process and minimise scarring."

"Whatever, then," he huffs.

"In case you get unsure, just read the instructions I sent with you as you collect your meds. Any other questions?" He shrugs, and you take that as a no. 

You log out of the computer, turning to face him fully.

"I suggest you call your workplace and say you'll be unavailable today and for the next three days. If you think they need it, head to the nurse station outside before you go home and collect a doctor's note. Other than that, you're free to leave."

He mutters a thank you, and you nod before slipping out of the room.

The second you step into the hallway, your smile drops. If the door hadn't been open behind you and there was a risk he would hear you, you might just have sighed. Now, you simply head straight to the nurse station with a clenched jaw to hold off your annoyance. Which did little to fend off what felt like a growing headache.

Your elbow finds the flat surface of the chest-high counter, as you reach for an iPad beside you. With the same hand you lean on, you massage your temple, adding the final details to the patient's chart to close the case.

"Guy in Exam 6 not treating you well?" You glance sideways at the voice, watching as Robby stops to join you. He eyes you for a second, attention soon moving to the patience board overhead. The entertained smile on his face tells you he knew what must have transpired.

"Can't say a man-baby is my choice of poison." Robby rocks on his feet, huffing out a laugh without his eyes falling from the screen.

"How about beer, then?"

You almost groan. "God, I could definitely have one right about now." In your periphery, you see how Robby glances at you when you abandon the tablet on the counter and use both hands to massage your temples.

"We're going to the park after, don't think I have to invite you for you to come." 

You look at him, keeping the pressure against your temples with your index fingers, but without any movement now. "Are you sure we can't go now?" 

Brown eyes meet yours, his mouth tugging at the edges. It looks like he wants to say something, but rather than answer, Robby steps towards you.

Two big hands plant themselves on your upper arms, curving to gently grip your biceps. With a slight tug, he turns your body around, your hands falling alongside your body as he does. You feel his smugness radiate behind you as he forces you to walk once he steps forward himself.

"I was charting," you protest as Robby leads you away from central, but make no move to actually shrug out of his grip.

"You were complaining." His voice is light, brushing on entertained, not stern as when he actually stepped into his attending role to lecture you. "You've got time to see at least three more patients before your shift ends."

You throw a look back and up over your shoulder, met with the upwards tug of his mouth and his eyebrows arched as he looks down at you. "You love torturing me."

"That's my job as an attending and for residents to endure." 

"Can't wait until I'm not a resident any longer, hopefully you'll be retired then."

Robby cocks his head sideways, grimacing for effect. "Mm, don't think so, probably still be chief attending by then," he makes a sound with the edge of his mouth like saying 'tough luck'. "So you'll not escape me."

You roll your eyes, muttering. "Lucky me."

"Lucky you indeed, because you're here to help Dr. Mohan." You face forwards again, seeing how Samira turns upon catching her name. 

Her eyes find yours, then they flicker up above you together with a quick rise of her eyebrows, only to lock with yours again. 

"You'll be in good hands," Robby pats your shoulders after you both come to a stop in front of Samira, quickly turning on his heel to be on his way.

"Always so eloquent with his residents," she mutters. You chuckle in agreement while turning to glance back at his retreating figure, catching the thumbs-up he shot over his shoulder as if he knew you would look.

When you turn back to face Samira, she's already watching you with an entertained look. "I take it he's in one of his moods, since I didn't see him lecturing you."

You release a soft scoff, "Yeah, whatever you can call that mood, he's in it." She shakes her head before taking a clipboard with her.

"At least you're getting a good educational opportunity," she nods sideways to urge you along. While you walk side-by-side, she continues, "We got a finger fracture, possibly an open avulsion. If that's the case, what do we have to do?"

"Even if it's an open fracture, we could always treat it like a closed one if the bone fragment is small enough and not significantly displaced. A conservative RICE treatment, together with a splint or cast, could be enough in that case?"

Samira nods. "And if not?"

"If the bone is misaligned and needs internal stabilisation to heal properly, we probably need to call Ortho for on ORIF?"

"Good diagnostic hypotheses, let's see if either is correct," she says with a smile before pushing the door to the exam room open.

***

It's late. Much later than when Robby found you by the nurse station a few hours ago. Hours you've filled with meeting patience and reaching that quota your attending had dangled before you like a carrot, not the revenue maximisation Gloria kept reminding him about.

The man with a finger fracture you'd helped Samira with ended up being a case for ortho. You didn't manage to follow more than a few minutes of the meticulous work of hand surgery before you were pulled into one of the two trauma rooms to aid in a sternal fracture case due to blunt force trauma. Then it was an elderly woman's failed pacemaker. After that, a teenage boy who attempted some stupid TikTok trend and blacked out.

In other words, you'd been busy. Like always. Only finding time to scarf down a protein bar in between cases, one bite between each.

While the snack did little to replenish your long-term energy reserves, it was enough to stave off hunger and the headache you'd been fighting since midday. Unfortunately, you felt it creeping right back the longer you stared at the screen in front of you.

Since... you don't know how long, but it's been a long time in ER standards, you've been stuck at your station, finalising your charting of the patients you've seen over the last few hours.

All but one are done; the final journal is open and waiting in front of you. But you find yourself unable to finish it, simply staring at the blinking marker in the blank square you were supposed to fill out.

You close your eyes, running your hands over your face as you slump forward. 

A stinging sensation rises behind your eyelids; your eyes dry after sitting in front of a screen for too long. In an attempt to rub away the burn, you press the heels of your palms against your eye-sockets. It does little to actually relieve you from it, even if it feels good to block out the fluorescent lights. 

With a soft groan, you open your eyes once more, blinking away the tears that have gathered beneath your lids.

A shift in your upper vision prompts you to crane your neck, your attention moving upwards with a flicker of your gaze once it has focused. 

Robby is standing on the other side of the desk, his backpack slung over his right shoulder. Ah, you really lost track of time, it seems.

"Call it a day," he says, settling his elbows on the countertop behind your computer, clasping his hands together.

"I'll finish this because I'd rather not have Gloria on my ass, thank you."

"You know it's me who's going to be on your ass for that and not her."

Your brows raise, head cocking as you give Robby a look. He mirrors it right back at you, which makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossing.

"You pushed me to see my daily quota of patients, which also means finishing their charts, as far as I'm concerned." You say, not really able to hold off on letting a smile tug at your lips. "So I didn't think you'd complain?"

"It's me who has to deal with you in the mornings and-" he tips his head in that emphasising fashion of his as his brows scrunched together, eyes narrowing as he watches you, "-throughout the day when you mope around, complaining about your coffee not helping because you couldn't sleep."

Robby was probably right. Scratch that. He is right. You always felt like caffeine did jack shit if you hadn't slept at least a few hours. 

"I'll be fine," you huff out amusedly because Robby had clocked that character trait of yours, going back to watch your screen. "Worry about yourself instead."

In the upper part of your periphery, you see his mouth drop open as an oh preceded his question, "Calling me old?"

"Only one of us doesn't wake up with a back-pain because they slept badly." Your eyes flicker to him momentarily, meeting his as he looks down at you.

Robby huffs lightly, doing that minimal side-ways jerk of his head as he stands straight, tapping his palms against the flat surface he previously rested his weight on.

"Don't forget beers," he reminds you, pointing a finger in your direction as he pushes away from the desk. "We won't save one for you if you run too late!"

"What you don't know is that I've bribed Donny to!" You don't see Robby's reaction, eyes focused on the screen as you begin writing, but you catch his chuckle.

You smile. the kind that is slow to grow and remains far longer than it should. One of those you would never admit to having if someone pointed it out, and certainly never would let slip if face-to-face with Robby.

It's complicated, your relationship with Robby. Or, really, it isn't. He's your attending, has always been, even if your title has changed.

You met him during your final rotation in med-school. Back then, emergency medicine had already called your name. 

The fast pace and adrenaline rush were something that equally excited and intimidated you. Not because you were afraid of the work itself, but because you were aware of the importance of knowledge and experience. Both of which you knew only got greater with time.

Choosing a speciality-focused rotation when it was offered by your school was therefore a no-brainer. That's why, when your fellow med-students continued their rotations, you stayed for a whole year in the ER. 

During those twelve months, you grew comfortable with the work you'd previously only read about in course literature and medical journals. Likewise with those you worked with. The nurses, residents and, of course, your attendings.

You met both Robby and Jack —still Dr. Robinavitch and Dr. Abbot back then— within your first two months. Doing one whole rotation with the day and night shifts to familiarise yourself with the ER as soon as possible. 

With Jack and the other night-shifters, you experienced the versatility of the injuries the department had to handle and the severity of some of them. You learned to stay calm, push yourself despite the discomfort of being thrown out of your natural circadian rhythm. 

Despite Jack's stoic and straightforward approach to teaching, you found that you performed even better under Robby's supervision when you switched to the day-shift. Not because he didn't share some traits with his fellow attending. He didn't hesitate to give you a stern look and equally clipped comments if you made an entirely avoidable mistake. But he was... friendlier, felt more approachable than the retired combat medic. 

Even if you now know Jack wasn't as hard-shelled or unapproachable as he seemed, actually opting for more positive reinforcement than his fellow attending. Robby always took the time to share his experiences with you, most often on the go, as you briefly joined him during his usual rounds between patients and residents. He'd answered your questions with anecdotes and recommendations of journals, all of which you soaked up like a sponge.

Robby made it easy for the med-student you'd been to feel like you weren't simply in the way, but a doctor in training. And it was during the day-shift that you grew the most, learning how to put your knowledge to use.

When looking back at it, the most memorable parts of your rotation were instances when Robby's knowledge impressed you. When he presented different pictures of a case because he thought that something had been forgotten or overlooked. Always with the sort of understated confidence that only came after decades of experience. 

God, you remember the first time he supervised a case you participated in. 

You'd presented your preliminary hypothesis, your eyes, which had been fixed on the patient up until then, switching to him, waiting for some sort of confirmation from your attending. You'd been correct, yet listened avidly as he elaborated on possibilities you still should consider.

But that memory was only second to when you'd witnessed Robby in action for the first time. When he was the one dictating the room and not solely surveyed someone else doing it.

If not for the rush and focus on following orders as he calls out only lateral sounds upon inspecting the lungs, you would've marvelled at Robby. He didn't hesitate even though the chest X-ray and CT scan hadn't returned to confirm his suspicion of tension pneumothorax. The low blood pressure, high BPM, and mediastinal shift were enough to confirm his call and rule out hemopneumothorax simultaneously. 

You probably fucking did watch him with wide, glittering eyes if the smile he broke into was anything to go by once he looked at you after the chest tube was in place. He'd offered his fist for you to bump, making you laugh with his comment of 'Your first chest tube', to which you replied 'I think you should say that when I actually did it myself.'

The line between the work and the man had been clear in the beginning. Although as time passed, you realised that the more you worked with the man, the more you looked up to Robby. Not only as a doctor, but as a person.

You knew it wasn't unheard of. Med-students gravitating towards their attendings, that was. They were someone reliable, steady, in an unfamiliar surrounding.

You'd thought nothing of it, as it made itself known so late into your rotation. But it was a whole different story when you returned for your residency. 

After your time at PTMC during med-school and your school's connection to the hospital —and that you worked your ass off to get it— you were granted a spot in their residency program. 

You'd thought some of the people you'd gotten to know would be happy to see you again, but hadn't quite expected Dana to meet you with a hug, Samira beeline to you rather than the lockers when she arrived, Donny to clap you on the shoulders from nowhere with a big grin, or Princess and Perlah smiling and waving from where they stood huddled together.

You'd certainly not expected Robby to halt in the middle of a step and move towards you with a smile as you hung out by the nurse station, waiting for the same man's welcome-to-your-first-day huddle you'd already experienced once. He'd welcomed you back personally and spoken to you for a few minutes before he patted your shoulder and excused himself to dump his stuff in his locker. 

No, you hadn't anticipated receiving such a warm welcome back. Nonetheless, it had made you carry a big smile throughout your whole first day as a student-doctor and reignited… whatever it was you'd felt as a medical student towards Robby.

It had been both exhilarating and infuriating. You'd strived just the tiniest bit harder to earn his praise, compared to the 'good jobs' or 'great calls' from senior residents or other attendings. It shouldn't mean more, but the back-straightening excitement which ran down your spine had argued it did. In fact, you'd preened inside if he sent you a thumbs-up and a smile, or you caught one of his low hums and nods to agree with your examination. 

Your childhood dream of becoming a doctor, a good one, was equal parts blessing and a curse. 

You had the work ethic; you wouldn't have even made it into med-school otherwise. But because you focused so much on always doing better —for yourself and your career, mainly, but also a teeny-tiny part for him— Robby had noticed. And when he'd noticed, he'd kept you closer by, followed your progress with attentive eyes, no matter if you performed an incision, stitch-up or IV, or aided a senior resident or him with an emergency.

You didn't get distracted by it in the moment, remaining single-mindedly focused on stabilising the patient, regardless of the injury's severity. But after your twelve hours were up and you returned home, you had a hard time forgetting the things that happened. Mind lingering on your shift for more reasons than the patients you'd succeeded or failed to help.

The way Robby moved past you, big hands settling on your back or hips to alert you of his presence so you didn't stumble into him in the hectic Trauma rooms.

When he gestures for you to take over from him, your fingers brushing as he provides you with the tools, offering instructions in a direct, step-by-step manner. Of course, he stayed to supervise you, always doing so from behind and over your shoulder to not be in your way but also able to step in quickly if things went awry.

Then, of course, there's that one time that you still couldn't help but think back on today. 

It was almost a hilarious repeat of fate, the déjà vu heavy from your med-school rotation. Low blood pressure, high BPM, and mediastinal shift: a tension pneumothorax. Only this time, Robby turns to you with the chest tub, leaving you to perform the insertion. He'd reassured you he would guide you, and you'd nodded. 

That's how Robby ended up behind you, crouched to get closer to your level and hands on yours as he coached you through your —actual— first chest tube. You remember how close his face hovered beside yours as the two of you watched the screen, following the white tube slip down the patient's throat. Low-spoken pointers were given here and there, brushing over the shell off your ear, until it was properly in place.

It was a wonder Robby hadn't felt your hands shake in his that day.

You can't pinpoint the day and time, but whatever it was that made your heart beat faster when you spotted Robby slowly faded as you progressed through your first year of residency. Without a breakdown. Just quietly. Probably because Robby never seemed phased by your proximity and never really did things that could be considered more than friendly-colleague-ish, even to your overthinking mind. And, like most things that never progressed, they fizzle out. 

Entering your second year of residency, the once starry-eyed picture of Robby you had as a medical student shifted into something more anchored in respect. Respect for how he kept himself afloat after every gruesome thing he'd seen, or handled family situations you would've found yourself stumbling for words to manage.

Now, you considered Robby... friends were a stretch, but colleagues were too little, just like with everyone else in the Pitt. Most of you didn't see each other outside of work, but with he shit you experience each day, you weren't just coworkers either. 

Then it was the fact that you and Robby just seemed to levitate towards each other more than you did with others.

Whatever you shared was something to keep the spirits up in a place that otherwise could swallow you. Trading quips by the nurse station and supporting each other during an emergency. It was easy to be around him and work with him. Too easy, sometimes.

Fine, you had to rationalise yourself into accepting what Robby should be to you rather than entirely abandoning the fantasy where you wished for something more. 

That's why, in the same breath as you could admit he's handsome and that you had definitely thought about him in more than friendly ways, he is still your attending and old enough... anything between the two of you outside of work would have people doing a double take.

You would never admit to any of it, because it would be such a disgusting cliché thing. And, you guess you've hidden it well enough as you never caught a whisper going around or felt the curious glances from the nurses, who you knew were always the first to know about these things.

But if Robby didn't unknowingly do it damn hard sometimes, like the way he now cranes his neck backwards as your shoes hit the gravelly path after crossing the road to the park. 

His glance was quick, only to confirm it was you. But there's a quirk in his lips as he holds up a beer bottle.

He'd pinched the neck between his index and middle fingers, keeping it steady with his thumb as he held the unopened bottle upside down. Even so, you recognised the label of your favourite beer. 

"Thought you wouldn't spare me one?" You hum as you pluck the bottle from his grip.

You feel Robby following you with his eyes as you walk around the bench he's sitting on. Meanwhile, you send a smile in greeting to Donny and Perlah on the opposite side, as they'd also noticed your added presence.

"You looked too miserable earlier, so I took pity on you." 

You turn to face Robby as you plop down beside him, sliding your backpack from your shoulder as you do. "Remind me to use that line on you in the future."

The sides of his mouth jerk upwards as he huffs a laugh through his nose right before raising his beer can to his lip. You hide your own smile by turning to your bag, beer wedged between your thighs.

Your last meal had been that sad excuse of a sandwich in the afternoon, and though your stomach hadn't audibly grumbled, you could feel it churning. Knowing you wouldn't enjoy your drink on a near-empty stomach, you rummaged through the side pocket of your bag to fish out a protein bar.

An exhale that bordered on a snort came from beside you. You glance at Robby, who observes you as he sips his beer. While sitting up straight, you rip open the wrapper with your teeth, stretching the snack towards him.

Even if he doesn't object, Robby scrunches his face in a mock expression of disgust. It makes you scoff, but still, you hold the protein bar steady as he grabs the end and starts ripping off an uneven half. 

He wiggles the piece to break it off from the remaining one in your grip, a thin web of caramel connecting them, until it breaks and covers mainly your fingers.

"Smooth," you remark. Robby only chuckles with a shrug. 

You lick the sweetness from your fingers before you, much like the man beside you, dig into the snack.

It's not the first time you've shared your food with Robby, nor the first time he's gotten a drink for you. While it may not always be an even trade of half a protein bar for a bottle of beer, similar exchanges have happened before.

You've earned a reputation for always carrying around some sort of snack. It wasn't your fault that people who'd worked longer in the Pitt still had shitty abilities to plan ahead, whereas you knew how convenient it was to order a box of protein bars or some other on-the-go snack each month to keep in your locker, especially with how sparse the time for actual meals was during your shift.

Your attending had certainly not been the first to ask if you had anything to spare. Of course, he'd know about it; it was his department. He'd even witnessed firsthand how someone sidled up to you in the middle of a conversation between you, only for you to not miss a beat answering his question whilst retrieving whatever this month's snack of choice was to hand it to them. The first time, his head had cocked, and his brows jumped. Now he was used to it.

But Robby had never asked, still didn't. It was you who handed him a protein bar, or dropped a pocket-sized candy bag on the screen of the iPad he held. Always square in sight and when he couldn't object. 

To see your attending take a pause, have something other than a coffee, or an occasional sip of water, was rare. 

You'd noticed those traits of his as early on. However, it wasn't really until becoming a resident that you spared enough attention to learn other people's habits and remember them as well. And that's kinda how it all started. 

On a random day, you'd asked Robby if he'd eaten anything. You already knew the answer, so when he shrugged, you hadn't been surprised. Without hesitation, you held out the protein bar you'd specifically brought to give to him.

Robby, being Robby, tried to reject it. Eat it, you. But you informed him you'd already eaten and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie, walking away before he could give it back.

A satisfied kind of giddiness coursed through your body when you later found him snacking on it while talking to Dana in one of those few lulls during the day.

You know Robby is a grown man; he's older than you by double digits. He could take care of himself, had for this long, and you weren't aiming to force a change in his habits. But that didn't mean you enjoyed the appreciative glances and comments he directed at you when you seemed to read his mind, or mood, and gave him something to eat.

Not long after the little habit began, you noticed Robby started returning the favour. Getting you a coffee if he got one, or filling your water bottle.

You'd commented on it once, but he'd only cocked his brows, head tilting, as his attention moved from the patient board to you. If I didn't, a bill would probably end up in my mail at the end of the month, I know the salary residents live on.

Despite barely visible through his beard, you caught a hint of a smile. You only rolled your eyes and amusedly shook your head before sipping the coffee, having grown pleasantly surprised when you realised it was made just as you liked it.

"Don't choke yourself."

Your eyes flicker to Robby as you push the remaining part of the protein bar into your mouth. His gaze is already set on you as he wipes his finger unceremoniously on his pants, trying to get rid of the sticky residue of melted chocolate.

You chew and swallow before you reply, "Sorry, not all of us have mastered the art of starving ourselves."

He hums as his mouth kicks up into a smile. "You'll learn." 

Shaking your head, you finally undo the screw cap of your beer and take a swig, washing down the residual bits around your teeth, simultaneously tucking the now-empty wrapper into your bag.

"Hey Doc-" you can't believe how that nickname actually stuck, yet your head automatically turns towards Mateo who's looking at you "-you playing along?"

The usual suspects on these nights have formed a kind of semi-circle around him. Javadi, like always, tagged along, even if she sipped the beer given to her sparsely. Samira, who'd begun joining more frequently, was to her left. Santos and Whitaker both sat on Mateo's other side. 

All of their eyes now trained on you.

"What game are we playing?"

"Never have I ever," Mateo says with a broad smile, shaking the beer in his hand, implying it's not the sober kind.

"I'll pass this time, thank you very much," you laugh in return.

"Don't let the elders make you into a bore," he chuckles in return. 

As you notice Robby's head turning the same way as yours in the corner of your eyes, the nurse earns a hasty, panicked look from Javadi.

"Oh, I'm racking up my karma points by being a Good Samaritan, taking care of the senior citizens and all that, you know?" You feel Robby's eyes shift to you; that's precisely why you turn to him with a smile edging on too sweet and a tilt of your head. "Ain't that right?" 

He cocks his brows as he scoffs. "Yeah, sure, tell yourself that."

You look back at the group of people, noticing the expressions ranging from stunned to amused. When your gaze catches Samira's, who's shaking her head in disbelief, you send her a wink. Countless times, she has remarked how she could only dream of escaping a verbal sparring with Robby unscathed if she ever attempted one.

Knowing you wouldn't participate in their drinking game, the group of people returned to talk amongst themselves as they began. 

With an entertained smile pressed into the rim of your bottle, you turn forward, tuning in on the conversation between Donny and Perlah, the same one Robby was a part of. But much like him, you enjoy the setting without contributing much to the discussion. Laughing along, making a comment here or there. 

Sitting down and taking a moment to reflect on the shift was sometimes needed to decompress and feel like it's alright to let it go before heading home. Today hadn't been a tough shift, but the week had been more stressful than usual. Nothing major, just the sheer amount of emergencies that had rolled through your doors and the growing queue in the waiting room. 

You don't know if it's because you've forced yourself to focus for so many days straight, that your attention now strayed so easily from the conversation you'd mainly been a part of to the huddled group to your right. 

Despite that your eyes remain locked forward, you listened with one ear to the hushed voices and bursts of laughter. 

The 'Never Have I Ever' game mechanic had seemingly been dropped along the game's progression. Now, it mainly consists of random statements they drink to or not, with elaborations coming when pleased rather than when you were the odd one out.

When you can't help but lowly chuckle at the chorus of whoops and comments after Santos admitted to having made out with a girl while drunk, Robby's head angles towards you. It had been low enough only he caught it, yet enough for him to understand you no longer were invested in the same conversation.

"Changed your mind about playing along?" He asks, voice close to a whisper.

You shrug and look at him, your smile shielded by how close you kept the beer bottle to your lips. "Want to join me in my secret participation?"

He huffs amusedly, the shake of his head minimal. "Do I have to get on drunk-duty?"

"Loosen up, Robby, they say being around young people also makes you feel young." You tease him, jutting your elbow gently into his arm.

"I don't think that's how the saying goes," he says sceptically, but with brows humorously narrowed.

"I have never found a patient hot!"

You glance towards the group —not taking note of who drinks or not— before your eyes move back to Robby. 

With arched brows, you drink, daring him to play along. A smile pulls hard at the corners of your lips at his disgruntled noise, which is followed by him raising his beer to drink.

"My first kiss was bad." 

"What are these questions?" Robby mutters as he rubs the side of his face, brows pulled together for an entirely different reason now.

You quell your chuckle. "Didn't think they would ask what's better between treating obstructed bowels or sanitising the trauma rooms, did you?" Robby sends you a look, but you meet it with an inquisitively raised brow. "So, bad first kiss?"

He sucks the inside of his cheek against his teeth, lips rolling as he winces slightly. Robby jerks his head, even if it's more a twitch of his chin, before he drinks. His expression makes you snicker because you know he must have thought back to it. 

Unable to resist, you teasingly ask, "Do you even remember your first kiss?" 

"I do, and it wasn't good." Your smile widens, and you have to force your laugh through your nose so it isn't too loud.

His brown eyes fall —you guess at the way you tap the bottle against your lip rhythmically, but don't tip it to drink— before they meet your gaze.

"No need to lie if they don't even know you're participating," he comments. 

You tip your bottle to the side, flashing him a grin. "Some of us are just born with it." 

He rolls his eyes and looks away again, humming a non-committal, highly doubtful 'mhm'. 

Despite having questioned the topics, Robby doesn't opt out as the two of you secretly play along while pretending to still follow the conversation between the nurses opposite you.

On most of the questions, your and Robby's answers are the same. Been close to fainting during a trauma? Neither of you drank. Skinny-dipped? Yes. Made a fool of yourself when drunk? Yes, and you made a mental note to ask him about it at a later date because you had never seen him drink more than a few beers, so that intrigued you.

On others, you disagreed. Drunk dialled an ex? You had, not Robby. Have a patient ever given you their number? You took a sip, shooting Robby a surprised look when he didn't. 

Then, Whitaker throws out a question you scrunch your nose at. 

I've never slept with anyone. 

If you don't imagine it, a somewhat awkward silence briefly settles over the group, until Santos questions why on earth Dennis would ask the question if he hadn't done it himself. That breaks the ice, and most of them chuckle and move on without delving into the topic of who has or hasn't any further. But you don't catch what the next question is, as a bump to your shoulder redirects your attention to Robby.

"In case you missed the question, drink." You'd seen him drink. Hadn't expected anything else, really. What you also noticed was how he'd glanced at you through the corner of his eyes as he dropped his beer, like he was waiting for you to do the same.

"Oh, I heard it."

The edge of his mouth jumps upwards, his head rolling to look at you better, apparently taking your hesitation for something other than what it was. 

"Was your first time so bad you don't even want to think about it?" He reuses your previous remark. It makes you huff, head dropping into a shake.

You should probably deflect, drink to drop the topic and move on. But you find yourself unable to raise your bottle, leaving it to create a watery ring against your scrub pants.

You don't say anything, only shoot Robby a smile that probably looks as half-assed as it feels, following with a kind of defeated rather than nonchalant shrug if you continue the same trend.

Even if your eyes fall to watch yourself trace the rim of the bottle with your index finger, then the group who continues with their game, you don't miss the way Robby's eyebrows shot up as he registers what you said without saying a goddamn word.

His eyes are heavy enough that you feel them on you. It makes it difficult for you to concentrate on what Samira is saying, eventually forcing you to turn back and face him. 

When you find Robby with his brows furrowed, enhancing his eleven lines and the wrinkles on his forehead, you question him with a "What?"

He blinks, head tilting questioningly. "Are you saying...?"

You would've let out a bark of laughter if it hadn't pulled everyone's attention. Instead, you settle for leaning slightly towards him. "I'm flattered that you give me the benefit of the doubt."

Brown eyes stare at you unwaveringly, remaining silent for a moment as he studies you. Then he drops his chin slightly. "Really, a virgin?"

Nothing points to it, but Robby must be tipsy because there's no way he would ask you to spell it out for him otherwise. 

"Yes, I am. Any more questions, or can I wait until my gyno appointment?"

But he won't drop it, you realise when he shuffles closer, passing it off as putting down his beer on the ground rather than closing the gap between you.

Although a foot shrinks to a few inches, he keeps his voice just as low as before, his question sounding more like a sound caught in his chest than spoken words, "Why?"

You should've just drunk and escaped this conversation entirely. Now, your heart is rushing, and you resist the urge to squirm in your seat. You could've skipped this conversation by simply drinking, saving yourself from disclosing your sex life to him, Robby, your attending. But no, of course, you didn't think that far ahead. Didn't consider that he was just as down-bad for gossip as anyone else in his department.

You take a slow sip of your beer, but that distraction only lasts so long before you sigh, slumping against the backrest of the bench. 

You can't dig your grave any deeper, and Robby is a friend, anyway. 

Your arms wrap over your stomach and you tap the bottle against your elbow as you try to mentally ratify your decision to actually indulge him with an answer.

"It's not that I haven't wanted to, I do, but no one has ever been interesting enough in the end... I guess," you mumble. Hopefully, Robby catches it because over your body buried six feet deep, will anyone else hear a word of what you say. Samira is the only exception as she already knows.

Robby crosses his arms over his chest, watching you with a tilt of his head, eyes slightly narrowed. It's similar to how he watches you —anyone, really— when you present a case, fully present and giving you his undivided attention. You have no problem holding it usually, but now, you find your eyes falling to the ground as you nudge a pebble with your shoe.

"So, how come no one passed then?"

Your eyes widen, your eyebrows shooting up, unable to wipe the disbelief from your face as you snap to watch him. "My sex life so intriguing to you?" 

"Rather the lack thereof." He sends you a smile, but even despite the teasing air of his comment, the look in his eyes remains overall gentle.

"Having this conversation with you, Jesus-" you scoff out on a low chuckle, yet you find yourself continuing, "Anything to light a sexual spark? Tried to take it further than kissing with some, but... ugh." Your nose scrunches, thinking back to those guys you'd hoped would finally be good enough to take the label off of you.

It wasn't a burden, per se. Nor did you carry it as a badge of dishonour. You've talked about it openly with your friends before. Not shy that you held off for the sole reason that you simply hadn't found anyone it felt right with in the moment, no one that excited you enough to look forward to it changing.

But having this conversation with Robby? Your attending? The man you, without a doubt, had fantasised would soothe the desperate ache only someone else's touch could quell? Yeah, that definitely wasn't like talking to anyone in your closet circle about it.

"The market that bad nowadays?"

"You don't know half of it." You earn a chuckle from Robby as he shakes his head, bending down to grab his beer again.

"A cheers in hopes of you finding someone". He holds his can sideways, letting it hang in the air between you. Enough so you can clink your bottle against it.

"Cheers to that."

Whereas you neck the drink, Robby waits a few seconds, the drink stalling close to his lips as he watches you. Your head jerked in a compulsive side-to-side movement, eyes shutting tightly as your brows knitted together in reaction to drinking too much carbonated liquid in one sweep.

He's swift to take a mouthful of his own drink so you don't catch how he'd observed you. But Robby only needed those seconds to know what urges you to set down your bottle with a sharp clink on the gravel beneath the bench and subsequent heavy exhale that follows as you sit up straight again to focus on Perlah and Danny's gossiping. 

Frustration.

***

You should've known better. That's the first thing you realise when you wake up with a pounding head.

You hadn't had much to drink yesterday, stopped at two beers and headed home before nine. You hadn't been drunk, barely able to call yourself tipsy. But, being poorly hydrated combined with your scarce food intake helped fuck all to battle the alcohol you consumed, no matter the amount. 

You weren't hungover, no nausea clinging to the back of your throat or flare of disgust at the idea of food. The headache from yesterday had simply intensified into a rhythmic thump in your temples. Your neck felt even stiffer and didn't ease up no matter how much you stretched it.

Groaning, you sit up in bed, head in your hands. There's a dull pulsing across your frontal lobe and the top of your skull. Your whole head, if you're honest. You really fucking hope an Advil or two could ease the pain so you didn't have to power through an entire shift like this.

What it can't do is make you forget yesterday. Your conversation with Robby.

Okay, maybe you were tipsy. You almost fucking wish you had been drunk so you could blame the alcohol for having entertained the discussion and wake up with no memory of it. But you hadn't. And, you remember every detail from it with vivid clarity.

The groan you let out this time was louder. 

You could only pray Robby took pity on you and didn't mention it. Despite the many times you'd fantasised about all the hot scenarios this very discussion could arise between the two of you before you fell asleep, you'd never believed it would actually happen. And certainly not as casually as it did.

Your second alarm blears out of nowhere, doing nothing to help the tension behind your eyes as you scramble to shut it off and drag yourself out of bed.

Before you leave for work, you manage to cook a sizable breakfast, complete with painkillers as dessert, and prepare an extra-large thermos of coffee. Gods know you need it. 

This early in the morning, the traffic has barely started up. So you arrive at your typical time at the hospital, which is usually about twenty minutes until Robby's usual huddle. 

To no surprise, the man himself is already there when you walk through the doors into the Pitt, seemingly just finishing the handover with Jack, the latter heading towards the locker with a parting pat on the fellow attendant's shoulder. 

Yet what does surprise you is the sudden but low through-the-teeth whistle. 

Halting in the middle of your step, you look sideways, finding Robby already looking at you over the edge of his glasses, holding a paper cup in the air. It's not from the cafeteria, but one of those small, corner coffee shops. 

The cup's bottom is tilted slightly toward you, which makes your eyes jump upwards again. Robby is now looking at you with an entertained smile that tugs the line of his beard upwards enough to enhance his crow's feet. He beckons you towards him with a second show that the drink is for you.

"Thought you might need it," he says when you finally reach the other side of the counter he's standing behind, his own coffee on the desk and iPad in hand. You take it from him with a slight scoff at his amusement, which only grows when he speaks again. "Don't forget to hydrate as well, can't live off of coffee."

"That's bold coming from you," you retort, turning on your heel to put your stuff away before your shift begins. And just maybe to minimise the chance of Robby mentioning yesterday. 

Even though you catch his chuckle, he doesn't say anything else. Thank god.

When you arrive at the lockers, Jack's just closing his. He looks towards you as soon as he hears you coming. 

"Morning," you greet him with as you walk past him to your locker. Jack responds with a nod.

After putting in the code and depositing your stuff, you pull out a strip of pills, popping one into your hand.

"You know we have to report if anything goes missing from the storage." You look at him as you wash down the Advil with the coffee Robby gave you. His eyes momentarily fall to the mug before they return to you.

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell you if I see anything suspicious," you reply with a smile.

He huffs out his chuckle. "Last night took hard on you?"

You keep yourself from giving anything away as flashes from yesterday play on your frontal lobe. With a shrug as you close your locker, you say, "Not as seasoned as you to drink beer on an empty stomach."

When you turn, now with only your thermos and the coffee cup Robby gave you, you see there's a shadow of entertainment in the corner of Jack's eyes. 

"Stuff running you that hard into the ground?"

Like always with him, the check-in is wrapped into a quip, but no less probing. Which only has you chuckling as you head out from the corridor, Jack going with you. "Not just yet."

"Good." He says with a nod, which also serves as a goodbye, as he turns right while you continue forward to join the other day-shifters gathered around Robby, not without throwing him a wave in return.

Throughout the rest of the day, you pop Advil like candy each acceptable set of hours after the last one. Doing everything to stay focused throughout your shift. 

Considering your first cup of coffee runs out while you'd listened to Robby's brief summary of the night shift, you also follow your attending's suggestion of drinking water. The thermos you brought from home conveniently saved for when that early-afternoon crash hit.

Thankfully, you slept enough to feel the effects of the caffeine as needed, rather than feeling jittery and sluggish simultaneously. Leaving Robby without a chance to remark on your pouting if the opposite had been the case. Not that you gave him many chances to talk about anything. Especially that particular thing.

You didn't actively avoid him. You just occupied yourself every second of your shift, moving from one task to the next. Going from charting to checking up on a patient. From the exam room to the trauma bay.

That didn't mean you… enjoyed wasn't the right word, but at least felt the tiniest bit of relief that your and Robby's interactions were kept to a minimum today out of all days. But there was no escaping the set of heavy eyes following you throughout your shift. 

You know it's Robby. Somehow, you've grown familiar with the particular weight of his attention. Can't say how, but you just know, like a sixth sense. Today you're particularly sure, concerning he's the only one who has any reason to stare at you like that.

But he doesn't pull you aside, no eyes locked and finger swiping sideways to silently inform he wants to talk to you, nor join you by the nurse station and excusing you from the conversation you're having with Dana to do the same.

And you think you've survived when you find yourself by the lockers twelve hours later.

There's only a thirty-minute drive home until your three days off start. You're planning to sleep through one of them. The other two, you'll probably do whatever you'd put off during the past few days of work. Clean your apartment. Wash all the dirty clothes in the hamper. Go grocery shopping. 

You're leaning against your locker, letting out a sigh as you stare at the contents inside, zoning out for a second. 

What snaps you out of it is when you hear it. Footsteps. 

The locker door blocks your vision down the corridor leading to central, but you know who it is. The pace, the distribution of gait, all those small details registering despite the sudden noise of your heartbeat in your ears.

Only when there's a deep chuckle from beside you and a very familiar pair of New Balance's enter the corner of your vision below the locker, do you deflate, the last glimmer of hope you had crushed.

Your head thuds against the locker beside your own with a groan, the door still shielding you from the man at the other side. "I thought I escaped this conversation."

"So you have been avoiding me?" Robby says it with a borderline laugh in his voice.

"No," you mutter, moving to stand straight as you move the locker enough to see him. Robby's watching you with a cocked head, slight smile on his lips.

"We've barely spoken more than a few sentences today."

You cringe a little, knowing he's right. Outside of the Trauma bays or Exam rooms, you've barely spoken more than this morning. 

"I have not been actively avoiding you."

His brows raise as he gives you a single nod, humming a 'mhm'. He eyes you, seemingly waiting to see if you'll say something. When you don't, he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Alright, so if I ask why you didn't just lie and drink yesterday-"

"God," you shut your eyes hard as you cut him off with a groan. When you open your eyes, you look at Robby with something close to a plea. "I don't know, I just… didn't drink, okay? Unfortunately, I can't blame the alcohol, and I let you know I would've if it were possible. I could always bullshit the excuse of being tired, which I was, but there's no use lying now. So I- just… forget I told you anything."

"Not avoiding me, you say?" Robby rolls on the soles of his feet as he chuckles, nodding towards you as he muses, "And really? You had a whole speech planned?"

You send him a glare, but it only makes him chuckle again, offering you a smile you pointedly don't return as you drop your head against a closed locker again. This time, he sees you do it. And you see him watching you, which makes your eyes close to block his entertained expression.

"You kinda got time for that when you lament it for a whole day." You mutter into the wood right against your face.

"So… you regret it?" That makes your brows furrow and look at him again.

"What?"

"Telling me about… it?" Thank god that he doesn't spell it out in case anyone heard.

You shrug defeatedly. "Let's just settle on that I should've known better than vent to you about my problems when I could've just gone to Samira like usual."

His eyebrows pinch together. "Samira knows?"

"It shouldn't be that hard to believe, compared to us, I actually see her outside of work."

"We could change that?"

You blink. "What?"

Robby is silent for a second, working his jaw before momentarily glancing sideways. "Maybe-" he begins, arms unwinding from over his chest to use a hand to articulate the word further in an aimless fashion before his eyes seek yours again. "-we could-"

"Start having wine nights and sleepovers?" You ask with a short laugh, turning back to grab your backpack from your locker and sling it over your shoulder. You're burning up from he inside and need to get out of here. You're sure Robby gets over it during his days off, too, and you'll be back on Tuesday with no need to mention it ever again.

But fate seems to be cruel today, because the moment you take your car keys and thermos, you catch it, almost missing the words from how the two metal things clink together.

Majorly, the second part.

Your head whips towards Robby. 

He's now standing with both hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, head bent, not looking at you but the linoleum floor, which has grown awfully interesting.

"Sorry?" He glances up at you, something present in his gaze you didn't often see. 

It's enough for you to do anything but stare at him.

There's a thumping in your ears, much more prominent than before. It must be your headache returning. But it's not a steady, pulsing sensation that curls around your skull. It's a rush of blood as your heart suddenly skips in your chest, enough to make you inhale sharply to get rid of it. Even so, the vibration remains in the hollow of your throat, a quiver throughout your body.

You couldn't have heard Robby right, could you?

You're smacking your locker closed harsher than you intend, only because you're already moving towards Robby, who hasn't said another word. 

For a man as big as him, he's surprisingly easy to navigate when you grip his arm and tug him along with you further down the corridor, using your ID card to enter the closest door with a lock, which so happens to be one of the on-call rooms.

As you step over the threshold, you let go of Robby. He doesn't bolt the second you do, simply follows a step behind and closes the door.

"Can you repeat what you said?" You spin around to face him. The bottle and keys in your hand rattled jarringly together in your haste to do so.

It's a first, feeling the power dynamic between you shift. Usually it's Robby who pins you with his stare, waiting for you to answer him. Now you are watching him intensely while he rubs his neck and bows his head, gaze not meeting yours. 

"I-" 

"Robby," you cut him off, making his gaze snap to yours from where it wandered sideways. "Please just tell me if I heard you right, because I can hear my headache at this point and I think I'm growing delirious." 

He exhales harshly, scratching the back of his head with both hands before they drag down the side of his face, only to bury them in his pockets.

"Yes, you heard right," he admits through his teeth.

"So you did ask, proposed to…" You trail off, mouth staying open as you seemingly can't form the words. But they hung in the air all the same.

He notches his head sideways as he grimaces. "Yeah."

"Oh", you nod once, then again, until you're repeating the movement as you find words, more sounds to be honest, to reply with, "Yeah, alright, uhm..."

"Fuck," he mutters, eyes shutting tightly as his face angles to the roof, only dropping once he continues. "That- that was really fucking out of line, and I should never have said it, so just forget it."

"Robby, wait-" you latch onto his arm before he can take more than a step, halting his action to reach for the door. Surprised, he looks at you, brows pinned high on his forehead.

You swallow, letting go of him, only to rub your palm along the side of your thigh as you break away from his gaze.

"I guess-" you clear your throat, forcing your hand to clutch the strap of your backpack when your eyes trail back to him again. "I guess you caught me off guard."

This time, Robby averts his eyes, one hand running through his hair, only to scratch at his neck. He pushes the air harshly from his lungs. "I get why."

"I feel like I'm entitled to ask this considering things-" you wave your hand aimlessly, "-but why… did you suggest it?" 

"I... Jesus-" he jerks his head with a disbelieving chuckle, "-we should not be having this conversation."

"Too fucking late for that," you mumble. Brown eyes lock with yours again.

"If you wanna file an HR-complaint, I totally understand."

"What? No, Robby," you shake your head. "Why would I do that?"

He cocks his brow, pinching his fingers together and using his hands to further accentuate what he's saying, "I'm your attending and I just suggested..."

"It's not forbidden," you interject.

Robby scoffs, his hands dropping. "Doesn't make it less of a potential HR nightmare."

"So, why did you suggest it if it's such a terrible idea?" You disregard the way it feels like your heart deflates a little with the question.

He gives a short laugh, tongue pushing against his cheek as he looks away while shaking his head. You decide not to say anything, observing what is probably an internal battle equal to yours, as you try to grasp how the situation has spiralled like this.

"Whatever you think, just know it isn't to stroke my ego." He heaves out a sigh before glancing at you. "And I'm not pitying you."

"Good, because if you were, I would fail an HR complaint," you scoff. That's enough to make Robby's shoulders drop an inch, not all the way, and not to make him look relaxed, but they aren't as drawn tight anymore. "But, the question still stands, Robby."

"I don't know." He says it slowly, with a slight pause after 'don't,' inhaling before he exhales the 'know'. "I've just been thinking about what you said."

You exhale slowly to wrap your head around the situation, around what he just told you. That he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. What did that even mean? That he couldn't believe it? That it bothered him enough to propose this? 

God knows how much you would've paid for him to admit that a year ago, to suggest this. Who are you lying to? Amid the confusion, there's excitement, something chanting 'yes, finally' right now.

But the situation is ... a mess? Fucked? You don't know what to call it other than fuel for your headache that's flared right up again.

"Can we… talk about this more tomorrow, maybe, when I've slept away my headache?" That's present for multiple reasons now.

"Yeah, sure, of course." Robby breathes out.

"I… uh, write to you tomorrow, I guess?" 

"You decide if you want to." He says, giving you an out. 

With the pounding in your temples, you really can't give him anything but a tight-lipped smile in appreciation because it's just such a Robby thing to do. One that he answers with something similar, if not more strained.

Stepping out of the room did little to slow your thundering heart that triggered your headache even further. If you had caught someone lurking in the corridor, you might just have dropped dead.

Because how could you explain the muffled conversation they would definitely have heard through the walls? 

With the way your thoughts were running a mile a minute, it would've been a shit-show to string together a good lie. And if they saw Robby exit the on-call room after you —which you're thankful he doesn't even if no-one is here to catch the two of you coming out of the same room, you visibly flustered and Robby something that wasn't his usual self— you would've scrambled to get a single coherent word out.

Because, what the fuck was that? 

Robby offered to- yeah, he offered to take your virginity. Your attending was offering to take your, his resident's, virginity. The very man you've harboured a crush on —because let's face it, that's what it's been no matter what you named it— just suggested he could be your first.

And you were seriously considering accepting it.

Yeah, you're so fucked.

[beautifulandvoid]

Hands Around a Cold Glass - Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: You develop a bit of an obsession with Robby’s hands. You think you do a good job at hiding it, until he mentions something one night.

Warnings: hand worship, lowkey size kink, fem reader (she/her pronouns used and female anatomy), age gap (reader is 29-30, robby is 50), attending/resident relationship, smut 18+ only, choking incorrect medical procedures

WC: 5.5k

Note: Helloooo look at that gif, what do you meannnn he's that big? I'm literally weak in the knees, feral, barking for this man. Yes, this is self indulgent and I love his hands. Enjoy!

You knew the exact moment your obsession began.

It was nearing six in the evening on a Tuesday when the ambulance bay doors slammed open, paramedics rushing in a patient on a stretcher. He was a man in his late forties, pale and clammy, and clutching his lower abdomen. 

You were already gloving up as you stepped beside the gurney, heart thudding in time with the monitor’s shrill beeping. “Blunt abdominal trauma, stable en route, but BP’s been dropping since we pulled in. Pulse 128, BP 82 over 46. No obvious external bleeding,” the paramedic rattled off at a rapid-fire pace. 

The patient was wheeled into Trauma 1. Robby stepped up across from you on the patient’s other side, Langdon not far behind him.

“Langdon, call surgery and get two units of O-neg,” he barked, his deep voice focused and sharp–controlled in a sea of chaos as he took command. Perlah stood at the head of the bed, bagging the patient. 

Robby called your name, brown eyes piercing and steady beneath his furrowed brow. “Grab the ultrasound. FAST exam. I want a belly scan now.”

You nodded, eager to follow his instructions. As an intern, you were almost desperate to impress your attending. The portable ultrasound was already humming in your hand, and you applied gel to the patient’s abdomen, eyes flickering between the screen and the rising panic in the room. You felt a bead of sweat roll down your temple, and heat grew on the back of your neck, but your hands were steady as you went for the epigastric view first. 

“You’re too lateral,” Robby said. 

You went to adjust, but his hand reached over yours. Large, warm, and sure. His fingers wrapped around your smaller ones, steadying the grip on the probe. His hand completely engulfed yours, guiding the ultrasound probe medially. You inhaled sharply. 

You both looked up and your eyes locked with his warm, brown ones. 

A moment. Brief. Long enough for a seed to plant in the back of your mind, but not long enough for anything real. 

The contact of your hands was brief and professional, sterile gloves enveloping both your hands, but something shifted in the air. 

“There,” Robby said, finally pulling his hand back. His voice was quieter now, yet still commanded everyone in the room. “You see that?”

You blinked hard, dragging your gaze back to the ultrasound screen. “Fluid in Morrison’s pouch,” you observed. 

“Ruptured spleen?” Langdon asked. 

“Probably,” Robby said, already turning away. He spoke to Langdon. “Page surgery again. Tell them we’re not waiting.”

You swallowed as Langdon raced towards the phone again. You were still holding the probe, but your hand felt heavy. His touch lingered over your skin like static after a storm. 

You had worked with Robby as your attending for nearly a year. You had seen him shout, laugh sarcastically, and rub the back of his neck at least 5 times a shift. But that moment in that trauma room… He was always professional and closed off, and–while acknowledging he was handsome–you never had a moment of more with him. A moment of closeness that went beyond just being physically close to each other. You had never seen that look on his face and it made your mind spiral. Chaos continued to swirl around you, but the silence between you was the loudest thing you heard that day. 

Later that evening, after the patient was wheeled into the OR and you finally finished your shift, you caught Robby watching you. He was speaking to Dr. Abbot, but his eyes were staunchly fixed on you. You swallowed hard, nerves swelling low in your belly, and brushed past him, eyes still locked on his. He didn’t say anything. Just gave you a small nod as you left. 

Things shifted after that day. He was still kind, helpful, and professional. Except there were moments where you swore he was purposely teasing you. Moments he would flex his hands in your line of sight, moments he would unnecessarily grab your hands and move them for you, all in the name of education, moments where you would catch him staring at you with something heavy in his gaze.

And you. You changed, too. You could not stop thinking of that moment. Of his hands. The size, the strength, the man they belonged to. 

You were obsessed. 

Over the almost four years working as his resident, you had the opportunity to admire his hands very frequently. You practically had them memorized. His long fingers, how thick they were. How large they looked when he ran them down his face. You recalled their warmth, even through layers of sterile gloves. It was your daily indulgence in The Pitt–admiring your sexy attending’s enormous hands and imagining just how good his thick fingers must feel stuffed deep in your pussy. 

You knew that if you were ever presented with the opportunity, he would fucking ruin you. You knew your fingers could never compare. No matter how much you tried, you could never make yourself feel full enough. 

He walked towards you and Dana at the nurses' station that morning in July, and you felt heat creeping up the back of your neck and onto your cheeks. Flashes of the night before flickered in your mind. Touching yourself to the thought of him was a more common occurrence than you dared to admit, but despite the feelings of guilt for objectifying a man twenty years your senior, you could not stop doing it. The need was constant—an itch you couldn’t scratch. 

“Hey there,” Dana said, smiling over at him. 

“Morning,” he said, looking up at the screen to see what patients and cases were looking like. 

“You joining us tonight for Mateo’s thing?”

He glanced over at her with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a work night.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Ok, grandpa.”

You felt his gaze on the back of your head. You glanced back, meeting his playful glare and smirked. 

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at you. 

“You know what?” He looked back at Dana, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be there.”

His gaze met yours again in playful defiance.

“Great!” Dana said, grabbing her clipboard and starting to walk away. She flashed you a knowing smile. “It’ll be a good time.”

It was Mateo’s birthday, and the nurses were throwing a small get-together at the bar across the street after your shift was over. 

Robby’s heavy, persistent gaze remained on yours, and you could feel your skin heating up as your heartbeat increased. You cleared your throat, trying to shake the nervous feeling in your chest, and looked back at the screen. 

“I’ll take the kid with the broken leg,” you said, taking the first case that showed up, needing space from him to collect yourself. You felt static in the air, something shifting. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you–with a little less restraint than he normally did. Maybe it was all in your head. Wishful thinking. You weren’t sure and you thought it best to remove yourself from the situation and focus on your work. 

“You'll be there tonight, right?” his deep voice was quiet, keeping the two of you in a bubble and sending shivers down your back. 

“Yeah, I’m going.”

He smiled, a small one, and finally, finally, looked down and broke eye contact with you. He glanced back up at you, eyes shining just a bit brighter. 

“Good.”

Good? What did that mean? 

As he brushed past you to walk away, his hand–heavy, and steady, and large–touched your shoulder, sending your mind into a frenzy. He leaned closer to you, his clean scent filling your senses, and his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear when he whispered.

“I look forward to seeing you there.”

It was one of your favorite bars in the area, and you found yourself hanging out there with your friends, even if you weren’t coming off a shift. It was laid back–the lighting was low and warm, a golden hue cast over worn leather seats and polished wood tables. Classic rock and soothing acoustic songs played low through the speakers–just loud enough to enjoy, yet it still encouraged conversation.

The group had split–Mateo, Santos, McKay, and Jesse were playing pool at the back of the bar. Dana, Princess, Perlah, and Collins were huddled in a booth, probably gossiping about the fact that the head of oncology was caught cheating on his wife again. You split from them, taking a seat at the bar, and the seat beside you filled immediately after. You smirked softly, knowing he was trailing behind you. 

You turned your face towards him and smiled. The light cast beautiful golden shadows across the rugged plains of his face, and you found your breath catching in your throat. 

“Come here often?”

You chuckled. 

“Smooth, Robby.”

He laughed, a real laugh, and you cursed at how charming he was. 

The bartender made his way around and you both ordered your drinks. 

“I’m glad you made it tonight,” you said. “You deserve to let loose sometimes. I really thought you’d flake on us.”

“I thought about it, but I figured I have nothing better to do," he said. His gaze held yours for a moment. "I'm glad I made it, too."

“Hm,” you said, taking a sip of the tequila sunrise placed in front of you. “Is that the only reason?”

You were playing with fire, you knew that. You knew that any relationship between the two of you was inappropriate. But fuck, you did not care. The pull you felt towards the man in front of you was magnetic and beyond your control. He was like a sun, pulling you into his unrelenting orbit. 

His gaze turned heavy, pinning your eyes to his. 

“Careful,” he growled, low and deep. 

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and glanced down. His hands wrapped around his chilled glass of whisky. The glass looked small in his massive hands and you inhaled sharply, your attention zeroed in on the slight movement of his fingers. He raised the glass to his mouth, and your eyes followed the motion. 

You dared a glance at his face and found him already staring at you. 

“You still with me, honey?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in that condescending way you found way too hot. 

A shiver ran down your spine, and you knew your voice shook when you answered, but hoped he hadn’t noticed. “Yes, of course.”

He smirked.

“You seem a little distracted. You were staring very intently at my hands.”

Fuck. Of course he noticed. 

He continued, the smirk plastered on his handsome face. “It seems to be a recurring problem for you.”

Your breathing deepened and anxiety fluttered low in your belly. Shit. He had probably noticed your little obsession since the first moment it happened. You tried to think of an excuse, anything to say, embarrassment starting to dim your courage. “Um…I wasn’t–”

“Don’t lie.”

You stared at him. His deep, warm, brown eyes searing into you, intense and unrelenting. Holy shit, he was so handsome. And he was…encouraging this? You felt a flicker of doubt, but the drink you were sporting was your third and your inhibitions were lowered just enough. 

Fuck it. 

“Careful,” you teased, collecting yourself and taking a sip of your drink. “Don’t want to cross any lines, do we?”

You were sure your gaze was just as heavy as his and the smirk you couldn’t hold back made him smile. 

“Honey,” he said, and your heart fluttered at the nickname. “I think we both know those lines were crossed a long time ago.”

He reached his hand across the table and laid it on top of yours. Engulfing yours completely. His index finger moved back and forth, gently rubbing his calloused skin against yours. You swallowed tightly. You have no idea what brought this on, what you did to finally have him practically confessing and abandoning his stoic professionalism. But you were not going to let it slip past you. 

You leaned your body closer to him, smugness filling your chest when he took a stuttered breath. His scent filled your mind and heat pooled low in your belly. 

“In that case…” you said, leaning even closer to whisper into his ear. “I think you have the sexiest hands I’ve ever seen and I think about them fucking me every single day.”

You leaned back, feeling positively giddy at the red blush spreading up from his neck to his ears, and all over his face. 

“Fuck, honey,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face. “You can’t say that to an old man. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you feigned concern. “I’m a doctor.”

He laughed and moved his hand back to yours. 

“Come home with me?”

You couldn’t help yourself. “It’s a work night.”

His stare became hard as he glared at you, exasperated.

“You always this much of a tease?”

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off of him.

“Come home with me.” It wasn’t a question that time. 

His apartment was exactly as you imagined it. It was clean, with books and medical journals littering most surfaces and barely any decorations on the walls. He closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him. Your hands shook at your sides and your heart beat hard and quick in your chest. 

He stepped closer to you and you looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Are you sure about this?’ he asked, voice strained. You could hear the barely held restraint in his voice, how much he was struggling to hold back from you.

You took the final step closer to him and placed your hands on his chest. 

“I’m sure, Robby,” you said, and his hands gripped your waist, pulling your body against his. You felt his breath fan across your face, his nose rubbing against yours, before his lips found yours and, holy shit, he was kissing you. His lips were surprisingly soft, his beard hairs rubbing against your soft skin deliciously. It was slow, almost like he was giving you the time to back away if you wanted to. 

Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, bringing his taller frame closer to you and his arms wrapped around your back, bringing you even tighter against him. You could feel everything against you–the quiet strength in his broad chest, the softness of his stomach, the heat radiating off of him. Your every thought was consumed with just him. He was overwhelming you and it made you crave him even more. You moaned low and arched your back, pressing your chest closer to his.

He grew more sure at your response, arms tightening around you and his tongue met the seam of your lips. You happily obliged, parting your lips and relishing at the taste of him as his tongue met yours. 

You broke away for air, taking deep inhales as he continued to press open-mouthed kisses to your jaw that sent flutters to your core. 

“Mmm, Robby,” you sighed and he grunted. 

“Fuck, I’ve thought about this so much,” he groaned, lips meeting yours again. 

You smiled into the kiss. “Think about me often, huh?”

He bit your bottom lip in warning and you let out a giggle. He broke away from you, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh. 

“More than I should, honey.” Your chest filled with warmth at how easily he admitted it to you. His intense gaze broke away from yours and his massive shoulders hunched. “Does that scare you?”

You shook your head, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No,” you said, and a rush of doubt flooded you. Maybe it scared him. Was he regretting this? Maybe he had drunk more than you initially thought? Or maybe this meant more to you than it did to him. 

“Robby, this isn’t just a one-night stand, right? Is this real for you?” you asked with trepidation and slight insecurity, your voice softer than you had intended. 

Both of his hands cupped your face and he stared at you, steady and serious. 

“Is that what you really think?” his voice was deepened, smooth and warming you down to your core. His thumb trailed across your cheek and he looked at your face almost reverently. “Honey, this is real for me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I think about you all the time. At home, at work. Getting to see you, talk to you, hear you laugh is the best part of my day. I remember every smile, every touch…”

He laughed again, affection clear as day in his eyes and smile. “I still remember that day I touched your hand for the first time,” he smirked knowingly and the memory playing in your head was viscerally real. You groaned in embarrassment. 

“I knew you noticed. You’ve been teasing me on purpose for years now, haven’t you?”

A laugh was all you got in response and you couldn’t help but join in. 

“I guess I wasn’t subtle, was I?” you asked, feeling bashful. 

He shook his head with a chuckle and kissed your cheek. 

“No need to be embarrassed. I think about that moment a lot, too.”

You smiled and pulled his head down for another quick kiss. You were quickly growing addicted to the feel and taste of his lips on yours. 

“What changed? What made you make a move?”

“At first, it was just a work crush. But, eventually, it just turned into more. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I tried not to. It’s…unprofessional. But you’re in your last year of residency, you’ll be an attending soon…I can’t stop myself no matter how hard I try, you’re so magnetic, so beautiful. You drive me insane. I never stop thinking about you.” 

He laid all his cards out on the table for you. This man was not holding back. You decided to be completely honest with him.

“I never stop thinking about you, either. I think about you when I should be working, when I need someone to vent to or share something good or funny with. I think about you at home…at night…” Your voice lowered to a whisper. “I touch myself to the thought of you.”

“Fucking hell.” His eyes darkened and you could have sworn you heard a small growl, and his mouth crashed back down on yours. His grip moved back to your waist, his hold so tight you hoped there would be bruises blooming on your skin to remind you of this moment for days to come. 

His hands ran down your hips and behind your thighs, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He walked further into the apartment, lips trailing your cheek and jaw, and he found his way into his bedroom. He lowered you back down to your feet, and his hands began roaming under your scrub top. He raised the fabric and lifted it over your head.

His eyes flickered to your lace-covered chest, and his cheeks reddened. His lips trailed down your neck and collarbones, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine. 

“Robby,” you mumbled, grabbing fistfuls of his top and pulling at the fabric. He broke away and pulled it over his head, leaving his upper body bare to you. Dark hair spread across his chest. He was all broad shoulders and strong chest. The hair trailed down, down along the soft curve of his stomach and lower still, below his scrub pants. 

Your eyes met his again and the blush spreading down his neck made you feel giddy. You smiled at him reassuringly and placed a gentle kiss over his heart. He smiled back at you, the creases by his eyes and his smile lines deepening. He had never looked so beautiful. 

His lips found yours again and he passionately kissed you, tongue licking and teeth biting your lower lip. His roaming hands found their way to your waistband and pushed your pants down. You stepped out of them, taking a moment to kick off your sneakers, and stood in front of him in nothing but your lacy bra and thong. 

He stared at you, brown eyes darkened to almost black, and he bit his bottom lip. 

“Honey, you’re so stunning. So perfect.”

You felt the heat encompass your entire body, feeling desired and beautiful and powerful by the way you had this grown man staring at you. His hands roamed your back and waist, lips kissing and licking at any skin he could find. He bit down on your nipple over your bra and you hissed at the slight sting. 

You reached behind you, unclasping the band and you let it fall off your shoulders, exposing your breasts to him. His mouth immediately latched on, suckling and biting at your sensitive breasts. You could not stop the loud moan you let you and he groaned, putting his leg between yours and pushing your hips down to grind on his thigh. The sudden stimulation on your clit made you gasp out loud and grasp at his hair, pulling him tighter against your chest. His hands made 

Just one touch, and this man was driving you crazy. Absolutely wild. You wanted him to fuck you into oblivion. You wanted his cock in your mouth…in your pussy. You were aching for him, slickness soaking your underwear. You wanted him so bad. 

“Robby,” you moaned out, pushing slightly away from him and sinking down to your knees before him. “Robby, please let me suck you off.”

He stared at you, mouth agape for a moment before his cockiness returned. 

“Aw, honey. You think I’m going to give you my cock that easily? You’ll have to work for it.” His large hand cupped the side of your face, dwarfing you and his thumb rubbed over your lip. Your lips came apart and his thumb made its way into your mouth, thick and heavy on your tongue. Holy shit. His fucking hands. You slowly suctioned your cheeks in, sucking on his finger.

Your hands came up to grasp his wrist, moving his hand away from your face. You released his thumb, licking a wet stripe on his palm. 

“I fucking love your hands. They’re so big, Robby,” you babbled, drool starting to escape down the corners of your mouth as you continued to press your tongue against his calloused skin. 

“Fuck, look at my pretty little slut. So desperate for me that she’s sucking off my hand. I bet you’re so fucking wet right now.”

You were soaked. You pressed your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure building. Your body felt hot all over, and you knew that you must have looked absolutely wrecked. 

Robby pushed his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. “Suck them, baby.”

Happily. 

You looked up at him, staring intently as you started to suck on his fingers like they were his cock. They were so long and thick that they may as well have been. His fingertips hit your soft palate when you increased your speed and you adjusted your angle, taking them as deep down your throat as you could. Tears sprang to your eyes as you fought your gag reflex, and you struggled to breathe through your nose. 

“Oh ho ho, honey, you’re doing so good,” he said, eyes unable to tear away from the erotic sight. 

You finally pulled his hand away, gasping for air as your hands went to pull his scrub pants off. He quickly kicked them off, followed by the boxer briefs he had on. Your eyes stared straight ahead at his cock. It was hard and massive, just as you had expected, and your pussy clenched around nothing as you imagined it deep inside you. It was magnificent, easily eight or nine inches, cut, and thick all around. 

“Holy shit, Robby,” you mumbled, wrapping your hand around his base, and he hissed. 

You licked from his base to his tip and he groaned loudly. He leaned down, grabbing your arms, and pulled you up to your feet. He backed you up against the bad, crowding and overwhelming your personal space and you whined in protest, desperate for the taste of him. 

“Fuck, baby, I would love nothing more than that pretty mouth wrapped around me, but I need to fucking taste you so bad.”

You laid back on his bed and he hovered on top of you, kissing your mouth again and moving lower, to your neck, your tits, and down your stomach until he could pull your panties off. He lifted your legs, spreading them across his broad frame and you almost whimpered at the stretch. 

He pressed kisses on your inner thigh, hands coming up to play with your nipples. 

“Baby, you’re so wet,” he mumbled against the soft skin of your leg. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You were practically incoherent, thoughts fleeting, and you were consumed by him. 

“Yes, only for you,” you murmured, and you felt his lips stretch into a smile before he harshly bit down on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Robby!” you screamed out, surprised at the sudden pain. He began sucking on the skin harshly, and you moaned, knowing he was going to leave dark marks on your skin. His teasing was dragging on too long and you desperately gripped his hair, trying to pull him to where you craved him the most. 

“Honey, you’re so desperate,” he said, a condescending tone lining his lips, but he obliged, licking a harsh strip from your hole to your clit. Your back arched and you moaned wantonly, desire and pleasure nearing a crescendo in your lower belly. 

His mouth latched onto your clit, alternating between licking it with quick movements and sucking it harshly into his mouth. Your skin exploded in goosebumps, every nerve being lit on fire. 

“Oh fuck, Michael.”

His movements became more frantic when you said his name and you felt his finger tease your entrance before pushing in. His mouth left your clit, but his finger finally filled your pussy, and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

“It’s Michael now, is it?” 

All you could respond with was a deep moan and he laughed, continuing to pump into you. 

“What was it you said? You think about my hands fucking you every day?”

“Yes, yes!” He chuckled again, taking his finger out, and then quickly stuffing you with two.

The fit was tight and the brief, painful stretch made your toes curl. The increasing squelching noises were lewd, but you could not find it within yourself to feel embarrassed. All of your fantasies about Michael Robinavitch were coming true and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it, honey? Look at this pretty pussy taking my fingers so well. Is this what you thought of when you touched yourself? Hmm?”

“Yes, Michael, oh my god,” you groaned, the pressure building fast and you knew you were so close as he continued to work you open.

“I bet your tiny little fingers did nothing for you.”

His speed increased, pushing into you faster and he lowered his head, his tongue flicking against your engorged clit. Pure fire spread through your veins as the pleasure exploded. You closed your eyes tight, body tensing, and you came harder than you ever had in your life. 

“Holy fuck, honey, you fucking squirted. That was so sexy, baby, what a good girl.”

He continued to finger you as you came, placing small licks on your pussy. You relaxed into the sheets, panting breaths and heartbeat slowing after your orgasm. You were in shock.. You had only been able to make yourself squirt with your vibrator–he was the first man to get you to that peak, and you knew that he had ruined you for all other men. 

He licked back up your body, mouth and hands exploring the softness of your skin.

He caressed the side of your face and you stared back at him, taking in his soft eyes, sharp nose, the lines on his face. 

“You ok, honey?”

You smiled at him and nodded. 

“Yes, better than ok,” you leaned up and kissed him. “Robby, please fuck me.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, baby, I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll ruin you for anyone else. You’re fucking mine.” He kissed you once more and rose up to his knees. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and he lined his hard, throbbing cock with your entrance. 

“I’m clean. You’re clean, right?” you asked through the fog in your brain. It was almost laughable how hardwired the medical training was in your brain. 

“Yes, honey, don’t worry. What about–”

You cut him off, knowing what he was about to ask. “IUD.”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned and slipped his cock slowly into you. You hissed at the stretch, his dick so fucking thick and hard. It felt like he was splitting you in half and you relished in the painful pleasure. He finally bottomed out, and your breath caught in your throat at just how full he stuffed you, his head pushed tight against your cervix. 

He slowly pulled out and entered you again, and you moaned. You always thought having sex with someone so large would be painful and unpleasant, but you were so wrong. It felt like he was made for you. Every inch of his cock pressed against your spongy walls. You felt every vein, every movement. 

“Honey, you’re so tight.” His voice was strained, holding back from pounding into you. 

“Michael,” you groaned. Your heels pushed against his hips, pushing him as far into you as you could. “Please, please fuck me.”

He needed no further encouragement, gripping onto your thighs and rocking into your heat. His movements, controlled and restrained, quickly turned frantic.

“My god, fuck…yes, yes, baby,” he grunted as your walls clenched around his length. He was so vocal, his deep voice clouding your mind and making you even more wet. His body towered over yours, the red flush and sweaty sheen on his skin made you gasp. He hit your cervix with every pump, and his relentless pace made your shudder in absolute bliss. 

His pace stuttered and you knew he was getting close. 

His hand found his way up your body, softly wrapping around the base of your neck. 

“This ok?” he managed to groan out.

“Yes. More, please.” He obliged, his hand, now wrapped around your entire neck, tightened around your carotid, and you gripped the sheets in pleasure. The effects were immediate, the lack of oxygen going to your brain and the pleasure in your pussy making you slightly delirious. 

His other hand rubbed lightly on your clit, and you were on the precipice. Robby let go of the pressure on your neck, the sudden, intense rush of blood making your control disappear as you came gushing around his cock, walls clenching tightly around him. You writhed beneath him and he groaned loudly as he came inside of you. His cock pulsated against your walls as rope after rope of cum poured into you. He trembled, lowering himself to lay over you as he started to come down from his high. 

His panting breaths brushed against the shell of your ear and you wrapped your arms around his back, caressing the skin. You pressed a small kiss to his shoulder and he came back up. He smiled at you, sleepiness lining the planes of his face. 

He pressed a kiss against your lips and slowly pulled out. You both groaned at the loss. 

“You alright, honey?”

You nodded, eyelids heavy as you sank further into his bed. He rose from the bed and you groaned at the loss of him, making him smile. He walked to the bathroom, and you bit your lip, eyeing his bare body appreciatively. You heard the sink run, and he came back in a few moments later, a wet rag in his hand. 

He began to clean you up and you blushed, the intimacy of the moment making you timid. He pressed a soft kiss on your knee as he rose from the bed. 

“Come use the restroom,” he said and held out his hand for you. 

“Robby,” you whined. “I’m tired.”

“You’ll thank me when you don’t get a UTI,” he said and lifted you from the bed. 

You both freshened up quickly, tiredness lingering in every motion until you both finally collapsed on the bed. He pulled you tight against him and kissed your forehead as you snuggled into his warmth. 

“We’re going to be so fucking tired tomorrow,” he mumbled, already half asleep. 

“Speak for yourself, old man,” you slurred back. A sharp pinch on your ass made you squeal and he laughed. You pushed him playfully and he grabbed you, his large, strong, sexy hands pulling you back against him and wrapping his arms around you. 

[beautifulandvoid]

Meet The Parents

John Carter x nurse!reader (Sunny)

Summary: You and John are supposed to have dinner with his parents, but when he sends you off early while he stays back at County a little longer, he gets stuck at work while you get stuck having dinner with his parents alone.

Warnings: John’s parents being a lot, reader is described as wearing a dress and putting on make up, no use of y/n (reader’s nickname is Sunny), reader and John being a little frisky and sweet, a sprinkle of reader’s backstory (raised by grandparents), mentions of cases that have happened at the hospital.

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, life has been coming at me from all directions, so writing and watching ER have fell on the back burner for a bit, but I finally finished this and wanted to send it out to you all. <3 Here to edit this because I forgot, this takes place in the context of season 8 episode 2!

—

Going to meet John’s parents for dinner wasn’t necessarily your idea of a good time, but when he asked if you’d go, how could you tell him no?

Plus, maybe they wouldn’t be so bad when it was just the two of you and not a bunch of other people around, and not a funeral.

You were holding on to that hope. These are John’s parents after all, and you could handle them hating you just to hate you, but your insecurities poked and prodded at the surface. John never made you feel bad because of your background, but you fear his parents might not like you for that reason, and you can’t change your background.

So you just didn’t want to be fighting a losing battle trying to make a good impression.

You stood in the doctor’s lounge, looking in the small mirror in your shared locker. You carefully dragged your red lipstick over your bottom lip, loving how it perfectly matched your red dress. This was a fancy restaurant, so you wanted to look your best, and you know it’s John’s favorite color on you. That was just icing on the cake though.

“Hey, are you ready?” John burst through the door to the lounge and stopped dead in his track when he saw you, letting out a low whistle as he took in your figure.

“You look amazing… are you sure we’re going to dinner with my parents? I mean we could always call and cancel…” He trailed off as he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your midsection.

You rolled your eyes playfully, and rubbed your lips together making sure the lipstick was evenly distributed.

“Yeah, call and cancel so your parents can blame the nurse that seduced their son. That’s just the ammo they need.” You threw your lipstick in your purse and picked it up, turning around in his arms to face him.

You’d never get sick of seeing his emotions swing so expressively in those pretty brown eyes of his, but the one he was looking at you with now? The utter devotion and love for you, sprinkled in with a little bit of lust; it was your favorite. You prayed to the universe that he would always look at you like that.

“Hey, hey…” he soothingly ran his thumb across your jawline, “.. they don’t think that about you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and let his words sink in.

“And if anything, it was me that seduced you, so they’d have their stories all wrong.”

“John!” You lightheartedly smacked his arm, sending him into a fit of laughter.

You turned and closed the locker, turning to look at him pointedly, “Let’s go and do this before I change my mind and make you go to this alone.”

—

You walked out of the hospital and towards John’s car, hand in hand, when he stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to stop as well and look at him in confusion.

“I need to go back and tell Weaver I want the attending position.”

His words just confused you further. Sure, he had been talking about wanting it, but was now really the time to do that?

“You mean right now? I mean we will be back in the morning.”

“I need to do it now, while I’m feeling confident about it.” You could tell he was really feeling convicted about it, so you just nodded your head, “Okay, go get that position. You want me to come back in with you?”

He reached out for your hand and placed his car keys in them, and leaned down to place a quick kiss on your lips. Then lingered on your lips for a moment longer. You were finally the one to pull away.

“Are you still going?”

He looked at you like a dazed teenage boy, crooked grin and all, “Yes, I am. You just seduced me with your stunning goo-“

You pushed him away with a warm laugh coming from your lips, “Okay, okay, just go!”

“No need to come back in, I’ll be quick as possible, but I don’t want both of us to be late. So you go ahead and drive my car, I’ll take the train and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He said it so fast and had already turned around and jogged towards the door that you didn’t have time to object. Not that you minded him leaving alone, it was the fact the train could be unreliable, and you didn’t want to be stuck alone with his parents for a long period of time.

“I hope that man knows how much I love him.” You mumbled under your breath, defeatedly walking towards where his car was parked.

—

The restaurant was stunning, not that you expected anything less from a place his parents chose. You walked in and hated how you felt out of place by yourself.

Thankfully, the hostess greeted you before you could dwell on it any further.

She asked if you had a reservation, and you told her you did, it was under Carter, and she smiled and happily showed you to your table. A pretty table with seats for four. Two of which were already occupied. Seeing John’s parents already sitting there made you want to turn right back around and walk out, but you were too far committed now.

You have them your most reluctant, polite smile when they spotted you. They smiled but you could tell it was just as courteous.

“Mr and Mrs. Carter it’s nice to see you, I don’t know if John got the ch-“

“Oh, yes he called us, said he’d be on his way soon. Said he got held up at the hospital.” His dad cut you off and you sat down at your seat and let it happen like your blood pressure hadn’t gone up in the few moments you’ve been here.

You hoped that meant John wasn’t far behind, and that his talk with Weaver had gone well.

“Well, I’m glad he informed you.”

The three of you sat in silence. You took your wine glass that was already filled with some sort of red wine that you could only imagine was more expensive than any place you’ve lived, and sipped on it. Given a choice you could’ve easily taken it all down in one go, but you were trying to at least act like a civilized person.

“So… where are you from, Sunny?” His mom asked, her piercing blue eyes felt like they could see right through you.

You put your glass down, “Here. In Chicago. Born and raised.”

“That’s nice… so your family is all here? Your parents?”

You snorted a bit to yourself at her next question, sure it was a common one to ask someone but you had a feeling this was more interrogation than anything.

“My biological parents aren’t around, I was raised by my grandparents. My biological mother’s folks.” You didn’t want to go into the whole spiel, especially in front of John’s parents, it wasn’t a complicated story but one you didn't particularly like bringing up if you didn’t have to. Hopefully the would be satisfied with that.

You were going to kick John’s ass for leaving you alone this long with them.

“You said you were from here, what part did you grow up in?” His dad finally spoke and turned the conversation away from your family for at least the moment.

“South side, the Bridgeport area.”

His parents tried to subtly exchange glances, but you clearly saw it. Your working class background never bothered John. Maybe caused some confusion between you two at times because he did grow up with an actual butler in his house after all, and you hadn’t ever been on a vacation outside of Illinois until he took you on one, but it was never a problem.

For his parents it seemed quite the opposite.

Your mind went back to his father wanting to introduce John to a senator’s daughter at his grandfather’s funeral. That was the kind of person they wanted him with.

Someone like them.

“Yeah, I know the area.” His father stated with a polite smile.

Thankfully the awkward conversation was cut short with the waiter coming around.

He topped off glasses, and took everyone’s orders.

When he was done taking yours, you heard your cellphone going off, fumbling a little less gracefully than you’d have liked, to pull in from your bag. Flipping it open, John’s name flashing across its tiny screen.

Your eyes cut up to see John’s parents staring at you from across the table. His father looked rather indifferent, but his mother’s judgmental gaze caused a heat to crawl from your neck up into your face.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

You stood up and took yourself outside the restaurant, stepping away so no one was around you, you answered and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey sweetheart, I only have a minute to talk, if even that, but I just wanted to let you know I’m not going to make it to dinner.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to fight off the headache that seemed to be coming on at his words.

“John… what? Why?”

“I went to talk to Weaver and now I’m swamped with patients.” There was a long pause, “… you’re not mad are you?”

You sighed heavily, shaking your head back and forth even though he couldn’t see it, “No, of course not. You can’t help that you got sucked back into the vortex. Did you at least get an answer from Weaver?”

Please, at least let this painful experience be worth something.

“See, about that-“ you heard the sounds of the ER reach a crescendo, “-I’m sorry babe, I gotta go.”

The phone went silent on the other end but you still called out, “John? Are you there?”

He owed you big time for this.

You kept yourself from banging your head on the brick wall next to you and snapped your phone shut, taking a deep breath while hyping yourself up in your mind. You can do this. You’ve worked on patients with gun shots in places they shouldn’t have even survived in! You’ve cared for people at their lowest, when they're sometimes just mad at the world but take it out on you, and you still take care of them with a smile. You watched your boyfriend lay half dead in trauma two, and somehow came out on the other side of it.

Having a quick dinner with John’s parents, by yourself, should be easy.

Should be.

Walking back into the restaurant you find your way back to your seat. The food that had been ordered already sat at the table, and his parents already eating. They didn’t seem to be talking as you sat down, but they both looked up at you as you slipped your phone back in your bag.

“I’m sorry again, that was-“

“John? Yeah, he just called his father and said he wouldn’t be able to make it. It’s that hospital again.” His mother interrupted you, already taking all the poise in to not just walk right back outside.

At least he was able to tell them himself despite the rush he was in.

You smiled politely, “He works very hard and is very beloved at County. He goes above and beyond, sometimes I worry for him because of it, that he pushes himself too hard, but he wouldn't be the man I love if he didn't love his job.”

As you picked up your fork to eat, you didn’t even look up at his parents after the answer.

They didn’t answer and seemingly just kept on eating, which honestly you were grateful for. You just wanted to finish your food and get out of here as soon as possible.

You thought about how… harsh Gamma and John Sr. had seemed at first, but it turned out they both just loved John, and were highly protective of him.

You had come around to understand each other, and they realized you loved John, no ulterior motives behind it.

So maybe their exteriors would be more forgiving given some time.

John had told you about his childhood, how after his brother died his parents were emotionally, and a lot of the time physically, distant. Hell, after he had been stabbed you and his grandparents had been the ones by his side the whole time. His parents didn’t show up until three weeks later.

Even with all that, John still loved them. They’re his parents, of course he loved them, but that didn't mean you had to like them.

You loved John with every part of your being, it was why you were trying with his parents, but they had hurt him and as his partner you couldn’t stand it.

“Can we have the check please?”

You had been so caught up in your own thoughts you hadn't noticed his parents had finished their meal, you honestly hadn’t ate much, but you weren’t feeling particularly hungry.

“I’ll pay for mine.” You piped up, looking at his father you had asked for the check.

“Nonsense. We’ll pay for it.” His dad said dismissively, as he pulled out his wallet.

“Well, thank you. This dinner has been lovely. I hope John can make it next time.”

You made sure your area was relatively tidy, and stood up, grabbing your bag and letting it rest on your shoulder.

“Yes, it was nice.”

His mother gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and his dad gave you a quick nod. You happily took the out and made your way out of the restaurant.

Well, that could’ve gone worse. Definitely could’ve gone better, but for a dinner with John’s parents by yourself, it went about as expected.

—

You had gone to your house to check up on everything, and showered while you were there. Cher, your kitty companion, had been staying with you and John at Gamma’s. So there was no need to worry about her, but you still liked to check on the house, just to make sure everything was fine. Plus, you wanted to grab some more clothes and scrubs, the stay at Gamma’s was lasting longer than you had expected, but you didn’t mind.

She’d just lost the love of her life, if you could lighten the load of that even a little, you were happy to do so.

You still weren’t on for a few more hours, but decided to head back to the hospital early since you hadn’t heard from John again. He really must’ve gotten swamped.

You parked John’s car and made your way through the ambulance bay and into the doctor’s lounge, smoothly changing into your scrubs and moving to put away your bag. John’s jacket still hanging in the locker so he was definitely still here.

Once done you found your way to the admit desk, leaning on it, you waited for Frank to turn around and notice you,

“Hey Frank, have you seen John anywhere?”

“I think Connie said he’s sleeping in exam room 3.” The gruff man answered.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved you off but you had already taken off down the hall.

It seemed to have calmed down around here a bit, or as much as it ever does.

You felt tired from lack of sleep, but plenty of overtime and overlapping shifts had made lack of sleep something you could handle pretty well.

Stopping at exam room 3, a smile spread across your face. “DO NOT DISTURB!! I GAVE AT THE OFFICE!” Was scrawled on a piece of paper in John’s handwriting. You slid into the room and closed the door behind you as softly as you could.

You saw John laid out on the hospital bed, mouth slightly agape as he softly snored.

You wish he had gone back to Gamma’s to sleep but you knew he was thinking at this point it was better to just stay here than to leave.

He laid on his side, so you careful put yourself in the space beside him, it wasn’t easy but you made it work. You looked up at him before curling into his body.

“If this is Malucci playing some kind of joke, I will quit.”

His soft, sleepy voice scared you for a second, but he already slung an arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible, and you relaxed into the touch.

“I don’t think he would be that stupid.” You quipped back.

John placed a kiss on the top of your head, before resting his head on top of yours.

“How did the dinner go?”

Your moment of drawn out silence spoke for itself as you traced patterns on his forearm, “It was fine. I mean, it was awkward, but it definitely could’ve gone worse…”

But it definitely could’ve gone a lot better.

You didn’t say that, even though you knew John could read in between the lines.

“Just know I won’t be doing it without you again. For my own sanity.”

You felt him press a soft kiss to your head.

“You won’t have to, I promise. I’m sorry I missed tonight, sorry I left you alone. You know much of a vortex the ER can be, I tried to leave so many times.”

“I know.” You said back, the two of you just laying in silence for a few moments.

You listened to the steady beat of his heart as your eyes started to get heavy.

You knew John had to be close to being back to sleep if he wasn’t already, but you still whispered, “I love you, John.”

You closed your eyes, but a smile spread across your face when you heard him rumble under his breath,

“I love you too.”

[beautifulandvoid]

❛ you have no idea how long i've thought about having you like this. ❜

this but with dadsbestfriend!robby after he sees you get out of the pool all wet in the teeniest bikini on a hot summer day 🙂‍↕️

we’re doing Thirsty Thursday Freak Nasty Friday this week with these prompts. send me a prompt and a character and I’ll write a little blurb.

DBF!Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

idk this also just seems like something @oldermenfucker would be into so Rue baby I’m tagging you

You weren’t the sweet shy little girl that you once were. No- Robby clearly knew that now. The summer before your last year of med school and your dad invited his old friend from college over- best friend for years and you remember being a little girl and telling Robby that you were going to marry him when you get older. He was there to help and inspire you- get your mind on the future of medicine. But while he spoke at dinner, telling tales of his time as the chief of emergency medicine at PTMC, you just melted. Watched the way his mouth moved, the way you’d catch him watch you out of the corner of his eyes- god you wanted him so fucking bad.

That morning when he first arrived you were already in your bikini for the day- ready to lay out on the deck and spend hours in the sun. And Robby hated the way his dick twitched when he saw you- bouncing in from the backyard when your dad called your name and asked if you remember Robby. He hadn’t seen you since you were a little girl and of course then he didn’t think of you in such a way. But you are clearly grown now- a woman who stripped by the pool to dive in and entice Robby. Because as soon as you saw him again- you wanted him. All day you lounged by the pool and would sigh and smile and tilt your head at him- making sure you stretched and tossed your hair back with just the right amount of flair.

You brushed against him while helping your mother prep dinner, apologizing when you brushed over him to reach the spices or when you bent over to grab a specific pan from the bottom cupboard. Robby was fucked. He couldn’t stop watching you and dammit he knew what you were doing. Because after dinner you both washed the dishes together and you couldn’t stop biting your lip and giggling and- yeah he was fucked. He wasn’t surprised when he heard his door open in the middle of the night- hearing your tiptoeing inside and lock the door behind yourself. He sighed, feeling your weight shift the bed- your soft hands dragging up his arm with a sweet voice calling out to him.

He didn’t stop you. And he didn’t stop himself. He pulled you into his lap and tried to chastise you when you giggled and wrapped your arms around those wide shoulders that you’ve been salivating over all day. You tasted as sweet as he imagined- mouths and tongues hot and heavy while his large heavy hands dragged up your body, under your shirt and groaning when you pulled it over yourself and tossed it away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about having you like this- been teasing me all fucking day have you?” You couldn’t speak- couldn’t form words between the whimpers and sighs that Robby had been pulling from you. His cock thick and heavy as it drags along those tight walls he’s been fantasizing about- even stroked himself in the shower before he crawled into bed and yet it wasn’t enough. A heavy slap to your ass when you kept silent- “I asked you a question sweetheart.” You have- you were teasing him and enticing him and begging for this exact moment. Where Robby has you in his lap, large hands on your waist so he can bounce you up and down on his cock- mouthing at your chest and smiling when your fingers find purchase in his hair for a lifeline to cling to. You never came so hard- never had your thighs shake or your pussy get so wet that you could hear the noisy wetness as he kept fucking up into you. You couldn’t wear a bikini the next day. Robby left marks and bruises all along your body for you to remember him by.

[beautifulandvoid]

Jack Abbot who's still insecure about his amputation getting used to you worshipping every part of him.

You're the first person Jack's brought back to his place since he had his amputation, and as your lips meet his and your fingers start to get tangled in his curls, there's the lingering doubt in the back of his mind that somehow the mood will be ruined the minute you see all of him.

You have no such concerns, letting yourself take the lead and guide him gently over to the bed, your own shirt discarded in the hall as you undo the final button of his and push it off his shoulders. Jack finds his confidence bolstered by the way your gaze rakes over his chest, licking your lips as your fingertips graze down his stomach before setting to work on his belt buckle. He thinks about telling you about his prosthetic as you slide the remaining fabric down his legs, but with the view of you sinking to your knees with your bare chest exposed, grinning up at him like know exactly what you're doing, well it all just leaves him speechless and overwhelmed, and before he knows it he's completely exposed in front of you and you look entirely unphased as your lips meet the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He's sitting on the edge of his bed with you kneeling between his legs, your tongue starting to lick slow stripes over his throbbing length, more excited and overwhelmed than he can ever remember himself being. His hands are brushing hair out of your face as you start to take him deeper into your throat, his head completely emptying of any doubts until your left hand starts to reach along his thigh. Pulling your head back until your lips only give him the slightest brush as you speak, you look up and ask like it's just another preference,

"Do you usually like your prosthetic off or on for this?"

"Oh you don't have to touch-uh-" His sheepish response is cut off when you bring his tip straight to the back of your throat bobbing your head quickly to render the doctor speechless.

"That's not what I asked." Is all you reply with a devilish grin as you continued working him between your lips, the heat between your thighs growing at how eagerly he responds to your every touch, his eyes fixed to you like you're entirely heaven sent. He tries to decide the answer to your question, his whole body on fire from the feeling of your tongue lapping at his leaking slit, knowing if he doesn't answer soon this whole night will be over far too soon for him.

"Off please." You can barely hear the words over the wet sounds of his twitching length sliding between your cheeks, but you give him the warmest smile you can as you unclip his metal leg with one hand, taking the time to knead the muscles just above it with your fingertips and earning a deep groan of relieved appreciation from the submissive man above you. Finally you release him from your mouth and push him further back on the bed climbing over him and marking a trail of kisses from his thighs all the way to his lips, feeling his whole body respond to every gentle touch. When your chest meets his, his arms find your waist tipping you onto your back and caging you under him, his muscular frame keeping you in place as one hand started to snake between your legs.

"Let's see how good you are at answering questions when you're not the one in control." His voice is tinged with dark desire, his fingers quickly finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles that have you squirming underneath him. Jack has well and truly got his confidence back, and you're an ego boost he wouldn't mind waking up to every morning.

If you liked this check out my The Pitt Masterlist and let me know if you want more ❤️

Like this story and want to support me to write more? Buy me a coffee to help out!

[beautifulandvoid]

sweet nothings

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Laying it on thick today?” you laughed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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