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Robby is about to have the panic attack of all fucking panic attacks. 

That's what you're thinking about as you fall and realize you're not going to be able to break it and Jack isn't going to be able to catch you because of your positioning. You're really going to need this to be nothing so you can be there for Robby and reassure him.

Pain blooms through your head as you hit the floor with your eyes closed, vivid white sparks searing up your optic nerves making the pain worse. Your hearing is out, just a high pitched ringing, and with your eyes closed it's so easy to think you're somewhere else, your heart starting to race as you roll on your back. But the high pitched ringing passes and you're plunged back into the noise of the ED, which is suddenly way the fuck too loud. You could swear the toddler that ran into you is crying directly into your ear.

What feels like only two seconds after you hit the floor something brushes against your shoulder and arm. "Hey!" Jack calls your name. His knees, that's what you feel against you. "Open your eyes for me."

As you open your eyes you bring your hand up to bat Jack's away from your chest so that you don't have to experience the painful sternal rub you know he was about to perform. "I'm fine," you mutter as your vision clears of the bright star-like aura and Jack comes into view, Perlah arriving at the other side of you. "Where's Michael? He's going to freak out."

"Did you lose consciousness?" Jack asks as he shines his pen light over your eyes, making you slam them shut and try to pull away. "You've gotta let me check your pupils."

"No, I just kept my eyes shut because it hurt." Begrudgingly you open your eyes and let him check your pupils. "Michael?"

"Equal and reactive. And he's-"

"Jack, I'm gonna be sick," you interrupt him, an intense wave of nausea washing over your stomach that has you dry heaving a little and your eyes shut again because the bright light with all the other sensory stimulation was too fucking much.

You hear the pen light clatter to the floor next to you and then Jack's hands are on you, one supporting your neck and the other going under your shoulder to help roll you. "Emesis bag," he calls to someone at the same time Dana runs up.

"Jesus, Hon!" Her knees brush against your back as she drops to them next to Jack.

An emesis bag is placed right at your mouth. "Here you go, we've got you." Perlah's voice is calm and soothing in the midst of the fray and you open your eyes and smile weakly at her before being sick. You want to die of embarrassment. You would think absolutely nothing of any of your Pitt Family or your friends or anyone being sick in front of you. But when you're the one doing it, it's easily one of the top five most embarrassing things you've ever done.

You feel more people gather around you, so many it becomes hard to truly make out anything anyone is saying even though you recognize voices. "Move the kid please. Loud."

"I've got them," you hear Princess say before there's shuffling and the sound of crying recedes as she gets them back in the room with their parents and closes the door.

"Michael?" you ask again. He's all you really care about at the moment.

"He's with a patient, I'm sure he'll be right out," Dana tells you. You're hoping that means he didn't see it and someone is just going to go tell him about it.

"Kid okay?" You're vaguely aware of someone grabbing your hand and a cool wipe of something over the back of it followed by a needle stick that you're sure is someone placing an IV. You try to pull your hand away but other hands immediately come to your arm and hold it there. "This is so overkill," you mutter. "I'm fine, I promise."

"The kid is fine," Jack huffs at you. You know he's not mad at you but at the situation and probably himself for not catching you and that he's annoyed you're trying to play this off. The universe works against you and another huge wave of nausea slams into you, way too much going on around you and overstimulating you and every one of your senses so much that you're sick again. "Tell me again you're fine," he says pointedly.

Once you stop being sick and spit a few times to try and clear your mouth. You twist your head a bit to look up at Jack and he clicks his tongue at you chidingly. "Comparatively I'm fine, and I didn't break my neck, I just hit my head. It's a mild concussion. I'll go home with Michael and rest. It's not your fault Jack, there was no way for you to catch me."

"Jack!" You finally hear Robby's voice as you start to hear a gurney get closer. "How bad is it?"

"I'm fine!" you call to him.

Relief crashes over Robby at hearing your voice so clear and strong, only a hint of strain to it. He doesn't believe you for a second at the moment, not because he doesn't trust you but because he knows you'll downplay it to try and save him from going through this again. Dana moves and Robby takes her spot. "I don't believe you right now," he admits, coming into view.

"Fair," you agree. "Can I please stand up now? I'm feeling much better."

"No," Robby and Jack say at the same time.

"Did she lose consciousness? Seize?" Robby asks Jack though his eyes are still on you, flicking around your face and then down the rest of your body just to check you over.

"No," you answer him even though he didn't ask you. "I'm sitting up." They both go to argue with you. You’re overwhelmingly not in the mood for it, irritation taking over a bit. "No, I'm at least sitting up. The floor hurts and I’m overstimulated, it’s too loud and too bright and there’s too much touching so can we just give me some space and let me sit up please. I'm claustrophobic down here with so many people around me even though I love you all dearly."

There are some light chuckles and most everyone gets back to work seeing that you're okay, Jack and Robby the only ones who remain.

"No to both," Jack answers Robby’s questions again as the two give in and help you sit up. The world spins for a few seconds but nothing awful and it passes quickly. "But she's vomited twice." He hands you a fresh emesis bag just in case you need it again.

"Fuck," Robby says under his breath. He's so fucking glad you didn't seize and that Jack only rolled you because you were going to be sick, but being sick is also not good. His emotions feel everywhere, but his heart feels like it's in a vice and he knows he's half a second from a panic attack if something goes wrong. "Clear CT and page neuro." The orders are yelled out to nobody in particular.

"Okay, that’s overkill. I don't need a CT. It’s just a simple concussion." You give Robby a look and then look to Jack for support.

"Don't look at me," Jack shakes his head, "CT is already ordered and neuro has already been paged. You unquestionably need a CT with your recent history."

“And you can’t say it’s a simple concussion. You could’ve refractured your skull. And even if it is a concussion it’s not simple,” Robby huffs. You know it’s not anger but worry. “Not with what you just went through and are still healing from even if you don’t feel like it.”

Your irritation boils over, especially with his words making you feel like he thinks you just forgot. “You think I don’t fucking feel like it? You think I don’t have days where it’s almost the only thing I’m aware of? You seriously think I forgot relearning how to walk and talk and eat again? And you know I was fucking conscious on the ground long enough that I can tell you this isn’t what it felt like when I did fracture my fucking skull, because believe me I fucking remember what that felt like,” you snap. 

“Oh yeah? You can remember enough and are able to distinguish between what just a skull fracture feels like as opposed to what a skull fracture in two places and a subdural and a tripod and a broken nose feel like? Bullshit.” Robby fires back. “You can’t. And even if you could, not all breaks feel the same.” 

You flinch away from him a little, something in his words hurting you even though you know they’re not meant to, that he’s just reacting to what you said.

Dana reappears. "CT is clear and ready."

You sigh. "I'm okay-"

"It's not a fucking question, Kid!” Robby breathes through an exasperated laugh. “It's not up for debate, you're getting the god damn CT and a neuro eval to start. You can be mad at me about it for the rest of our lives, but it's fucking happening," Robby tells you simply, no malice to his tone and no raising of his voice. It's just a fact he's telling you. He needs to see that you're really okay, that you haven't fractured your skull again and that you don't have a brain bleed again.

You take a better look at him again and see it. The glassy eyes and the set mouth that pulls down just slightly and the way there's far greater movement of his chest with each breath than usual. Panic. Anxiety. Near terror. God, how could you have forgotten that? It's literally what you were thinking as you fell. Maybe the overstimulation and irritation took over your brain. That’s definitely at least part of it. Maybe you thought you being awake and talking and relatively fine would comfort him enough for it not to hit him in full force.

That's bullshit though, you knew that would never be enough, so maybe you just wanted to try and downplay it and pretend everything is fine to protect him and not make him go through this again, and selfishly to protect yourself, so that you wouldn't have to come to terms with the fact that you're putting him through this again. Putting him through the same kind of pain and suffering and anxiety. You'd just started to get some of the self-hate under control and had come so far in forgiving yourself for what you feel you put him through and then this. 

All that progress gone in an instant.

"Okay," you acquiesce, shutting down a little. "I'm sorry. Let's go."

"Thank you," Robby nods, misses the change in you because he’s so in his head.

He and Jack help you off the floor and onto the gurney waiting nearby. A wheelchair would've been more than fine, but you don't fight it. You're not going to fight any of this anymore because you can see what it's doing to Robby and you refuse to make it even worse. Getting the CT is hard, being in a hospital bed is hard. It brings so many memories back, makes you relive things you’d really rather not. You shut down a little more in response, more resigned than anything. Robby’s so escalated he misses it a bit, your blankness that’s almost tinged with sadness and the way you just say yes to nearly every question unless the correct answer is no.

Your CT comes back clear and neuro diagnoses you with a concussion. You let Robby hover and worry, know he really needs it to soothe himself right now and you know it'll continue when you get home. You genuinely don't mind it, you love him and getting to be close to him. But you get in your head as you lay in a hospital bed again. You get in your head about what just happened and you start to remember things about your accident that you didn’t before, things that feel like they’re threatening to swallow you whole. Things you can’t deal with right now because you have to take care of Robby.

You get discharge instructions that you both already know, thank Jack and promise to keep him updated and you and Robby are in an uber on your way home. Robby watches you the entire ride home as you relax into your seat holding his hand and closing your eyes. He'd calmed down somewhat at the hospital once your CT came back clear and neuro said it was a concussion. But he can feel it all starting to rise again, the panic and the memories this brought up.

He'll fall apart at home. He knows it. He hates it, but he knows he will and that there's really nothing he can do to stop it. His body needs to get rid of the panic and adrenaline and anxiety somehow. He doesn't want to hide it from you but he also doesn't want to make this your problem. You have a concussion, he knows you're tired and hurting.

You open your eyes when your uber driver turns onto your street and smile over at him. You’ve pulled yourself together on the ride, somewhat. At least enough to really focus on him and keep all your own shit to yourself. You know he’s going to need you, that you’re going to need to help take care of him for yourself. Part of you wonders how difficult it's going to be to get him to talk to you, but he needs to and you need him to. At the same time, you know you don't want to bother him with your shit so you get why he's not going to want to bother you with his even though his isn't shit and it's certainly not going to bother you.

Robby helps you out of the car when you arrive, keeps one hand on your lower back with the other reaching across his body to hold onto your arm to help keep you steady. It's unnecessary, you're steady on your feet but he needs it, so you let him. He bends down and helps you take your shoes off once you're inside even though you always just toe them off.

When you walk over and sit on the couch he looks at you wearily. "You don't want to try to have some dinner and shower and get in bed?" He keeps his voice low and adjusts the lights so only the hall light is on, more than enough light to see each other in the living room without it being too bright for you.

"In a bit," you agree. "For now I just want to sit on the couch." You pat the spot next to you, Robby's usual spot, asking him to come sit with you.

He does so and you cuddle into him like you always do, but this time Robby very gently pulls you into his lap and cradles you, kissing the top of your head as you rest it on his chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart. "Feeling okay? Any more nausea? Limb weakness, anything?"

"I'm good, I promise. Especially here like this," you hum, nuzzling into him a little. This position is nice because you don't have any pressure where you hit your head.

Your words relieve Robby but not a tremendous amount. His heart is still racing and he's still so stiff as he holds you, almost like he's bracing himself for you to lose consciousness or start to seize or something. "I'm really glad I got to take you home," he whispers. It's so quiet you're not sure you were meant to hear it.

"I am too." You say it just as quietly but Robby gives you a little squeeze letting you know he heard it. After a few minutes you shift out of Robby's lap back onto the couch and position yourself so you're facing him. You'd hoped that being at home with you would help calm him a little but his heart hasn't slowed at all. "Michael, talk to me," you murmur.

He glances at you and shakes his head. "I'm okay. It brought some stuff back, but it'll pass." You raise your eyebrows at him, a bit softer than you normally would but doing it too sharply would hurt. "I don't want to put it on you right now. I know you're hurting and the last thing your brain needs is to try and be dealing with my shit."

"You wouldn't be putting anything on me, Honey, and I'm never 'dealing' with you. I’m sorry for snapping at you in the hospital and that wasn’t a reflection on you and wasn’t because you were putting too much on me." You reach out and grab one of his hands, pull it into your lap and play with his fingers. For whatever reason it seems to calm him some, you've noticed. "If I wasn't feeling up to talking this through with you I wouldn't have asked. And if my head starts to really hurt I'll let you know."

Robby looks at you silently for a moment, biting his bottom lip. He looks away from you and shakes his head, takes in and lets out a deep breath as he runs his free hand through his hair.

His eyes find yours again. "It would've been bad enough just seeing it, or just hearing that it happened. But I saw it and I was stuck. I was giving countertraction and I couldn't drop everything and run to you. I couldn't get to you. And it was so similar to being in observation when you had your surgeries. I was stuck there too. I couldn't be in the OR. I couldn't run to you or do anything or help. I just had to watch. Watch and hope it went well and pray when your vitals started to go screwy that they could get you stable. And that's exactly what it was like today. I was stuck. I know it wasn't as prolonged and that I got to you fairly quickly and you were awake and talking but it still brought it all back."

He hates how shuddery the breath he takes in is. Hates how his eyes are watering. "I saw Jack roll you and assumed you were seizing and I couldn't fucking get to you. Then standing and talking to Jack while you were getting your CT. We did that so many times when you were in the hospital and I was right back there. Right fucking back there. When they rolled you back out I was expecting you in a coma, with your face all bruised and stitches on your scalp and face and jaw. I was genuinely surprised for a second when you came out looking fine because it felt like I was there, it was so fucking real."

His voice breaks on the last word and a few tears slide down his cheeks. "Things happen to you twice and I, I just assumed that's what was happening. That we were about to relive what we had just gotten through or worse and your body, your brain wouldn't be able to handle it a second time so close to the first."

Robby's breathing picks up a little. "I was convinced I was going to lose you, that this would be it. I froze from the fear for thirty seconds, Samira had to call my name and tell me to go to you. I fucking froze on you. What are you supposed to do with that? What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Michael, you'd just witnessed a shocking, traumatic event. Anyone would've frozen, that's a natural response. I know my words don't just make it better, but please try not to blame yourself for that. It doesn't upset me." You bring your hands to his face and wipe at the tears that are now streaming steadily. "I'm so sorry you went back there so intensely and that I scared you. Being stuck how you were and just seeing me go down and Jack turning me, I can't even imagine how fucking scary that must've been."

He shrugs, lips and chin trembling as the last of his composure falls away. "I thought I was going to lose you," he whispers, unable to see your face furrow through all of the tears collected in his eyes. Robby starts to weep properly then, keeping his sobs as quiet as he can.

"I've got you, Baby," you murmur to him, crawling back into his lap and wrapping your arms around him.

As wrong as it feels for him to be the one taking comfort from you and not giving it to you in this situation Robby lets himself take it, holding you close and sobbing into the side of your neck as quietly as possible, so careful not to press too hard and cause your head to move. It takes a bit for him to cry it out but between your soothing murmurs and feeling you in his arms and your hand in his hair his tears eventually stop, breathing returning to normal.

Robby's mind continues to spin even though he's stopped crying and his fear starts to turn into some anger. He tries so hard to fight against it, to not put on that mask. "Why didn't you break your fall?" he sniffles, keeping his voice as neutral and light as he can right now.

You shrug shallowly, not meaning for it to come across as blasé as it does to him. "I had to shove the kid out of the way or else I'd have landed on them."

"Fuck the kid," he mutters, looking at you incredulously. "Fuck the kid! Protect yourself! I need you!" Even through his displaced anger Robby doesn't raise his voice at all, doesn't want to hurt your head.

"It was just instinctual," you try to explain. "It all happened in seconds Robby, there wasn't much time to think about how to react, my body just did."

"Do you know how bad that could've been? What that could've done to you?" Robby's voice trembles with the fear his half-hearted anger is masking.

You let out a long breath. You understand where he's coming from, the mask he's struggling not to put all the way on. But you're starting to get more tired and you already feel like shit for doing this to him again and his words are just a little too close to how you've already been feeling.

"Yeah," you give him a tight lipped smile and small nod. You can’t do this. You try to force apathy in a desperate attempt to shut yourself down so that you won’t feel anything. It doesn’t work but you keep on the front. "I do, I promise I do. And believe me, Michael I have already gone straight back to hating myself and any self-forgiveness I've been able to find is totally fucking gone, so I really, really, don't need you blaming me for this too, I promise I'm already doing that enough for the both of us. I feel like this conversation is starting to get unproductive so I'm going to go shower."

He wants to stop you, to wrap his arms around you and keep you close. But he doesn't, he knows he can't. This is you asking for space and he respects that. Robby sighs deeply and shakes his head at himself as you get up and walk off. He hates that he did this, let himself get angry when he knew it was displaced and made it hard on you. More than that he hates that he was so focused on you physically that he somehow fucking forgot that this would have a mental and emotional impact for you too.

Robby gives you five or so minutes to yourself before he gets up and goes to your bedroom to see if you'd like more space or if he can come be with you. He finds you in the shower. He peeks his head in the door, only the light over the sink on to give you just enough light to shower safely. "Kid?" he calls to you softly. "Can I join you?"

His voice pulls you from your thoughts. You have no idea how much time has passed but you're grateful he gave you some space and you miss him, know he misses you. "I'd like that."

"Okay, just a second." He wouldn't pressure you but Robby's quite relieved that you'd like him to join. Not having his hand on you or at least being able to see you was twisting his stomach with anxiety more than he realized. He quickly strips and leaves his clothes with yours in a pile on the floor and gets in the shower, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. "I'm sorry for getting angry and starting to be a dick. But I promise you that I wasn't trying to blame you and I don't blame you, but I understand how it could easily seem that way with what I was saying and how I was saying it, so I apologize."

"Thank you. I accept your apology. I know the anger came because it was easier to feel than the anxiety and worry. I do the same sometimes." You start to shuffle slightly so that Robby can be fully under the stream of water. "I'm sorry for walking away."

"Don't be." Robby slips under the stream and then positions you both so that your heads are free of the water but it rains down between your bodies enough to keep you both warm. "I appreciate you apologizing and I accept your apology but you were right. It was getting unproductive. Taking space was the best thing to do."

"Still," you shrug, intending on saying something else but then not being able to find the words.

Robby takes the hint, can tell you're getting too in your head about things so he doesn't push the conversation. He tries to gently ease into asking how you're doing psychologically after today. "Jack told me that you asked about me right away, that you were worried about me and not yourself."

You think to yourself how ironic that is with the memories today unlocked. You shrug again. "I knew I was fine and I knew you wouldn't be."

Robby lets the words linger for a few seconds to not rush into it. "Are you though? Fine?"

You resist the urge to shrug a third time. "My CT was clear. It's just a concussion, if even that."

He wraps his arms around you a little tighter and leans down to kiss your temple. "That's not what I meant," he murmurs against your skin.

You're quiet for a moment as you think of what to say, lean back into him and turn your head slightly so that you aren't putting pressure on the spot you hit it. You really don't want to give Robby more to deal with. "I… It brought back a lot for me like it did for you. Like I said, blaming and hating myself, that kind of thing. I feel terrible for putting you through that again."

"That’s understandable but it's not your fault. I don't blame you. I know I made it feel like I do but I don't. It was an accident, shit happens. And I know how easy it is to say and how hard it is to not do, but I really don't want you to hate yourself. You didn't put me through anything. You didn't cause anything.You didn't deliberately fall or slam your head against the tile.  Something happened to you. What happened isn't your fault." The gentle kiss he presses to the top of your head lingers even as the water splashes against the side of his face. "Anything else going on?"

You can't help but shrug again and Robby knows immediately that there's way more on your mind. He knows you can get shruggy when you're sad or upset and trying to be strong and not show it because you don't want to face the emotions yourself or put them on him. "Things happen in twos and this was close but not the same and so now I'm scared that it will happen again, that someone will attack me out of nowhere and I'm going to hurt you again."

"And the pain." You pause for a second, trying to think but you're not really sure about what. "I don't know, it was so mild today in comparison, but I closed my eyes and that high pitched ringing in my ears and the cold tile, I know it wasn't even close to the same, I just hit the back of my head, it wasn't like when I was…," you still struggle to say the word at times, "when I was, you know, and Jack was right there but there were a few seconds where I felt like I was right back there on the sidewalk. Then in CT, I went through it again, I lived the…," this time you force yourself to say it, "the assault again but there was just more and I… I don't know. It's okay, I don't want to make this about me."

Robby's already shaking his head by the time you finish your sentence. "This is about you. This happened to you, I'm asking about you, I want to hear about you and how this is impacting you. We've already talked about me, started working through my stuff. I haven't been forgotten and you're not taking attention from me. I'm not the only one impacted by this, Kid. And god forbid something did ever happen to you again, like a second time thing, you won’t be hurting me. None of this now or then, or at least very little of it because we both did have our moments, is you hurting me." His voice is gentle and soothing, there's no demand or pressure even when he asks, "What's more?"

You sigh internally. You were hoping he missed that because you don't want to tell him about the more, know it'll just upset him. Tears start to form, the pressure behind your eyes almost grounding you to the pain you're experiencing and you stiffen, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Robby. "It doesn't matter, Michael."

"Yes it does," he murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the water, "it matters to me."

"No, it really doesn't." The unusually high pitch to your voice as you fight back tears belies your words. It's not that it doesn't matter, it's that you wish it didn't matter. "I don't know. I remembered what happened before this, yeah, but a lot of the emotions were missing. I remembered the pain but I guess my brain walled off letting me remember how I felt emotionally at the time, or at least not vividly, and today, this made me remember, vividly. I was just back there experiencing it again and feeling those emotions. And it's just a lot."

The tears start to slide down your face and your breaths grow shuddery and Robby just knows. He knows the shuddery breaths mean tears and he knows the way you're stiff in his arms and have pulled away from him a little means you're trying to distance yourself from him because you feel like you don't deserve him or are just going to hurt him.

He knows better than to pull you back flush against him at this moment though. It'll make you shut down and stop talking for sure and he wants you to have the option. "You're safe here with me. I'm not going to make you talk about it or be mad or upset if you don't want to talk about it right now, but I think you might feel better if you do."

You take a few seconds and a couple of breaths trying to decide what you want to do or say and then it all starts pouring out. "I was scared. I was really scared. I was while walking and was trying to get to a busier street but then I just got hit out of nowhere and I was so fucking scared as I was falling, of so many things. Which sounds stupid and obvious and remembering I was scared doesn't surprise me, I knew I must've been, so that's not the point, it was what I was scared about and how fucking scaredI was. And I know nothing that bad really happened to me so I shouldn't be having this fucking PTSD or whatever this is, I wasn't sexually assaulted or anything, but those few minutes before I lost consciousness at first, I didn't know what they were going to do to me as they were rifling through my pants to find my phone, and I was so scared." 

An eerie calmness takes over you as you speak, you're rigid in Robby's arms, standing up straight with nearly perfect posture. It's so unlike how you normally are. Because you're back there now. Completely back there. Talking and thinking about it has sent you there. You’re not present in your own body here in the shower with Robby, instead you’re present in it in the past. You're standing and staring at the wall of the shower, tears streaming silently down your face, but you're not seeing, your vision overtaken by your view from the pavement as you lay on your side, head almost off the curb. You don't feel the water on your skin or Robby's arms around you, you don't hear the shower, don't feel its warmth.

You're back there, growing colder every second, the buzz of a busier city street and the pounding of your heart and your ragged breathing all you can hear. You're not sure if whatever wet drops you can feel dripping down your face are blood or tears. A part of you knows it's both. You can taste and smell the blood again, your face and entire head are agonizingly painful. And you can feel every single emotion, remember everything running through your head.

Your brain feels like it's splitting itself in half as it near perfectly reconstructs your trauma, weaving this intense flashback that leaves you almost completely untethered to the present, while at the same time keeping some sliver of itself in the present enough that you're able to keep talking to Robby, to narrate in the present tense.

You're at war between here and there and your head feels like it, hurts like it.

"I’m so scared. I wish Michael was with me. I’d do anything for him to be here, but I also don’t want him to see me like this. And, and I know my face and head are super fucked up, I can taste and smell the blood. I know I’m not visible from the street and I'm a doctor, I’m still conscious, almost overly conscious. I know I probably have a brain bleed and broken skull and that I’m not going to be found in time. Everything is starting to get fuzzier and I know I’m dying, that I’m going to die. I accept it, I believe it. I’m scared of it, of death, but I’m also not. What scares me…"

"I know I’m going to die, that I’m actively dying and there’s nothing I can do, and now all I can feel, all I can think is that I’m mad at myself for calling Michael because it might make him blame himself and, and I’m scared for Michael, and I wish I could tell him that I love him properly and give him one last kiss. I’m laying here hoping he won’t blame himself and it’s dawning on me, I’m realizing and starting to hope, hope he meant everything he said in the supply closet and that he isn’t in love with me because then maybe, maybe my death won’t hurt him, won’t be a big deal, or at least it won’t hurt him too badly, won’t leave too big of a lasting scar like Dr. Abramson's death. I’m desperate for this not to be the last thing I do, I don’t want my last act to be hurting Michael. I’m more scared of that than of dying. Everything is starting to go black and then… there's nothing." Your last sentence is whispered.

It's sensory overload as your brain slams you back into the present so hard you sway, Robby's arms quick to tighten around you and keep you upright, ironically really, because Robby has been completely and totally fucking leveled by your words.

Like you he's crying silently, or as quietly as he can because hearing this, hearing you describe it all, knowing you were back there, it fucking hurts. It’s physically painful for him, like his nerves are on fire and his heart is back in a vice, and emotionally it feels like he’s being slowly flayed with a dull knife. He doesn't feel for a second like it's you that's making him hurt. It's not you at all. It's what happened to you, how you felt, what you went through, because he does love you and he loved you then so hearing about all of this kills him. He's so focused on you and what it was like for you that his blaming himself for this, for you going through all of this, stays a tiny whisper in the back of his mind, a presence he's aware of but not remotely acknowledging or able to think about.

You turn in Robby's arms, looking up at him as you start to tremble almost violently from the adrenaline crash. He looks so destroyed, is crying for you and because of you and it breaks your heart further as much as you can appreciate having someone who loves you so much he has this reaction. You finally burst into proper sobs, letting them overtake your body while gripping onto Robby's upper arms, the water falling between you low enough that it doesn't impact your view of each other's faces.

"And it hurt," you choke out, the words coming out easier once you've started. It’s clear you’re back here with him, back in the present because you speak in past tense again. "The pain was so excruciating as I was laying on the pavement and I just wanted you, I wanted you there with me to hold my hand as it happened, as I died, I wanted you to be the last thing I saw, but more than that I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you, I promise. I promise I didn't want to hurt you," you sob, staring Robby in his tear filled eyes through your own tears, heaving in a wracked breath and shaking extra hard for a few seconds before continuing. "So I was praying you didn't love me and that was excruciating too because all I'd wanted for so long was to be loved by you. I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't want to hurt you Michael, and so all I could think to do, all I could do on the ground like that was pray you didn't love me and that my death wouldn't hurt you."

This whole thing, you thinking you were dying and accepting it and wanting him there to hold your hand as you did and wanting him to be the last thing you saw and that you were worried about him as you lay on the street dying already has Robby in physical pain. But something about hearing that you were there praying that your death wouldn't hurt him and praying that he didn't love you when it's all you wanted so that your death wouldn't hurt him absolutely shatters Robby in a way he didn't even know was possible.

It literally knocks the breath out of him, makes a wave of nausea pass through him so hard for a couple of seconds that he thinks he's actually going to be sick. His face breaks and he starts sobbing just like you, pulling you flush to him, cupping your head so gently as he holds the side of it to his chest, some of the water from the shower hitting your neck as you sob together.

Robby's head is spinning so much he can't even label his thoughts or feelings outside of the general typical ones you'd expect. His thoughts are racing but it would take him a bit to be able to articulate what exactly he's thinking. He feels stuck somewhere between an adrenaline crash and a panic attack and he knows he can’t even begin to imagine how you're feeling.

And he hates the way he feels like he doesn't know what to say but he just doesn't. Right now he doesn't know what to say to that other than he loves you and thank you and it's all going to be okay and he's so sorry you went through all of that and had to go back and relive it tonight. Twice.

So he doesn't say anything as you sob together until neither of you can cry anymore and it's all shuddery and hiccuped breathing and sniffles. You're cried out in a sense but also not really. If you had tears left to cry and weren't in so much pain and exhausted, you're pretty sure you'd still be sobbing.

Once you're both breathing again fairly normally he tries to say something, wants to acknowledge everything you just told him, the way you showed just how fucking much you love him. "Kid, I…"

You know by the way he trails off that he's struggling to find words and isn't sure what to say. You're okay with that though, you wouldn't know what to say to it either. You don't know what else to say right now yourself. "It's okay. I don't want you to say anything, Michael. This was enough," you murmur. "Listening to me was enough. I can't, I can't do more, I can't really talk about it tonight, I don't know how to talk about it right now, I'm sorry. I don't even know how that just happened, it… the words just came out." You pause for a second. "Unless you need to talk to-"

"Shh," he soothes you, not wanting you to start worrying about him and get yourself worked up again. "I don't need to talk about it to process it right now. Don't apologize. I'm happy to just listen, always. We both know it doesn't always have to go beyond listening. Just know that I'm so grateful for you and that I have never been loved the way you love me, I don't think most people have. I love you. I love you and I hate the circumstances and why we're here and what we've gone through but I am so fucking happy to be standing in this shower with you after everything."

The corners of your lips twitch up at his words. At his love. "I love you more and I am too. I really, really am."

You stand in a comfortable silence for another few minutes. In your head you thank Robby's landlord for installing the fucking best hot water heater because despite how long you've been in here, the water is still a perfect temperature.

The silence is broken by your sad laugh. "I should move my therapy appointment up."

Robby lets out a little huff of a laugh through his nose. "Oh yeah, every therapy appointment. All of them. They're all getting moved up to as soon as possible. Yours, mine and ours."

You smile against his chest. "I think that's a good plan." A particularly hard wave of pain passes over you, the throb of your head so sharp you see stars against your eyelids and feel your knees weaken as you groan a little. "My head hurts so bad."

He frowns to himself. He hates you being in pain. "I'm sure it does, Baby, I'm sorry. Let's finish up in here, get you some more meds, I'll make you something to eat if you think you can stomach it, at the very least find something for you to sip on so you aren't dehydrated, and then I'll get you in bed and you can sleep, okay?"

You sigh against his chest. "Only if I can sleep on you."

Robby's frown pulls up into a small smile. He needs you, to feel you just as much as you need him. "You better."

The group has thinned out some when you walk off the dance floor and over to the bar where Robby and Jack are sitting. A large group of you went out tonight to celebrate those finishing their residency in a few days and those of you moving up a year. You'll be an r4 shortly and sometimes you can't believe you even made it this far. You're sure this year will be the longest and slowest yet because you're so close to no longer being Robby's resident. 

You're also past tipsy and into drunk but it doesn't stop you from ordering another drink when you get up to the bar. You watch Robby internally debate whether to intervene and question if you really want another, but he doesn't. He does however order you water. "She'll also have a water, please," he calls to the bartender as they walk away to get your drink.

"Look at you taking care of me," you giggle at Robby.

"Someone has to," he teases you. You roll your eyes at him. "Here, have a seat." Robby gets off his stool and helps you onto it, using it as an opportunity to check you out for the umpteenth time tonight. He even very deliberately got him and Jack these seats at the bar so that they had a view of the dance floor and he could watch you.

He can't help it. You didn't come from work and it's Pittsburgh at the end of June so the outfit you're in shows far, far more of your skin than he's used to seeing and you look so good it pains him. He already knows what he'll ashamedly have to do in the shower tonight.

Robby thinks he's discreet but he's not. You've felt his eyes on you all night. You love it. And in fairness yours have been on him too. He's wearing those jeans that fit him too fucking perfectly and a casual t-shirt that's just tight enough around his tummy you love so much and shows off his arms and tattoos.

"Having fun?" Jack smirks at you while Robby pulls the stool next to you closer to you and sits.

"I am, thank you, Jack. I've had fun dancing and now I'm here in between my two favorite attendings. What more could a girl want?" you sigh with over-dramatic dreaminess.

The bartender sets down your drink and the water Robby ordered you and you thank him, go to grab your drink. Robby's quicker though, thick fingers wrapping around the glass before you can grab it. "Water. She could want water." He hands you the water with his other hand. You pout at him but take it and have a sip anyway.

"What about you guys?" You turn the question on them. "Having fun?"

Both men nod. "It's been nice getting to celebrate everyone and have real conversations," Robby says as he gives you your drink, satisfied by the half glass of water you've somewhat chugged. He shakes his head to himself when you down half your drink just as quickly.

"It has been, yeah. But, I'm going to head out I think." You pout at Jack and he laughs. "Don't pout at me. The night isn't exactly young, it's 11:30."

"Oh." The surprise in your voice is nearly too fucking cute for Robby to stand. "Well. I didn't realize it was that late. Time flies when you're having fun I guess." You let out a single laugh. "And is so painfully slow when you're waiting to be with someone."

Jack smirks at a now blushing Robby and gets off his bar stool, clapping Robby on the back and then giving you a side hug. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he winks at you and Robby.

Robby rolls his eyes at Jack and shakes his head, taking a sip of his whisky.

You cock your head at Jack. "Would you fuck a resident?"

Robby almost chokes on his drink, narrowly avoiding spitting it everywhere. "Kid!"

You glance over at Robby feigning confusion. "Oh, yes okay, sorry." You look back over at Jack and clear your throat. "Would you be in a relationship with a resident?"

Robby sighs which makes you giggle and lean into him a little. Jack chuckles to himself but stays neutral and doesn't answer. "Have a goodnight, I'll see you guys," he smirks before turning and leaving.

"Bye!" you chirp after him, waving to his back. You turn to Robby and smile. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Did you just call me old?" His eyebrows raise.

"No." Your eyes sparkle with your teasing and Robby wants to lean in and kiss you so fucking badly. "I'm just surprised you're here this late."

"I'll be here until you're ready to leave, Kid." Your eyebrows raise and a smirk pulls onto your face. "Remember the whole someone has to take care of you thing?"

"Half the group is still here," you point out, looking at them over on the dance floor. "We'll all make sure everyone gets home safely."

"Yeah," Robby nods, takes a sip of his whisky, "but I like making sure you get home safely."

You lean in closer to him. "Because you like me?" you whisper.

Robby leans in closer to you. "Because I like you," he confirms, voice just as low.

"I like you too." You wink at him and he shakes his head and laughs and you're pretty sure you could live on that sound alone. As a new song comes on you gasp softly. "I love this song!" It's a cover of Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Emilie Mover, not that you know the artist, just the song. "Come dance with me Michael, please!

He dodges your question. "You know I have the record of the original version of this song at home." Robby winces a little, bracing himself for your answer to his next question. "Please tell me you know there's an original version of this song and have heard it."

You furrow your brows at him and cock your head. "This is a cover?"

"Oh my god," he mutters, suddenly feeling way the fuck too old, way the fuck too old to ever be with you.

"I'm fucking with you, Michael, and I had you so good," you giggle. "I know Frankie Valli and have heard the original. And I love that version too, I'm just really liking her voice and the smoothness and softness of this cover. So let's dance! Please!"

He chuckles lowly and shakes his head, grimacing. "I'm not dancing with you to this version of this song at a bar, Kid. It would just embarrass us both. I'm not a good dancer."

You pout at him, trying your best not to read anything into him saying no. As you sip on your drink you think about what he said and an idea comes to you, one you're quite sure he's going to say no to but offer anyway. "Take me to your place then."

Robby lets out a soft laugh, eyebrows raising. He smirks and tilts his head. "Forward, even for you."

You fake gasp. "That's not at all what I meant! Where is your mind tonight, Michael?"

"Where it always is," he says under his breath.

You give him a cheeky grin at his words, internally dying at the implication that he's always thinking about you and about fucking you. "What I meant was that you said you won't dance with me to this version of this song at a bar. You have the vinyl of the original version of this song at home. So take me home and dance with me to the original version of this song."

He looks at you as he debates it in his mind. You and your logic and problem solving. He really should say no. He shouldn't bring his drunk resident to his apartment. But you've already been and absolutely nothing will be happening, for the same reasons as always, but especially tonight because you're drunk.

"Alright," he nods. Robby finishes off what's left of his whisky in one long drink, almost like he's a little desperate to get you to his place. Your chest tightens studying the way his lips wrap around the glass and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. You've gotta pull it together.

As he sets his glass down you pick yours up and quickly toss back the rest of your drink. Robby stands and offers you his hand to help you off your stool. "I'll text them all that I left and got home safe." You don't want to go find everyone on the dance floor and have to take the time to turn them all down when they beg you to stay.

Robby nods at you and rests his hand on your lower back. He tells himself it's just to navigate the busy bar, but once you're outside and walking to his place he keeps his hand there.

When you get to his place you run to the bathroom and text the group that you made it home while he finds the record and sets it up. The way you just go there because you know his apartment that well does something to him.

He's standing by the record player and smiling at you when you come back into his living room. "You know I'm only doing this because you're drunk and not going to remember."

You laugh. "Oh, Michael, you know I'm not that drunk, I'm not even slurring, so if that changes things and you don't want to do this speak now."

Robby doesn't speak. Instead he puts the record on to play and walks over to you and holds his hand out. You take it and the two of you start to dance as Frankie Valli fills the air. It starts in a normal slow dance position, close but far enough apart, his hand splayed over the middle of your back, your eyes never leaving each other's.

It quickly changes though, becomes far more intimate, your chests pressed together, Robby's hand sliding to your lower back and your hand that had been on his shoulder coming to the back of his neck. You're dancing far too slowly for the song but neither of you care. Neither of you speak much, too lost in each other's eyes and the moment as cliché as it sounds. He spins you once just to hear you giggle but then you're close again, closer even.

Your faces get close enough for you to smell the whisky on his breath, your lips coming so close to brushing against each other's that it's painful. When your noses bump you can't help but nuzzle into his, a little worried it's crossing a line for him, but he nuzzles back and then nuzzles your cheek. You'll think about the feeling of his beard against your face forever.

"You're a good dancer," you giggle as the song gets close to finishing.

Robby shakes his head. His brown eyes are as black as you've ever seen them. "It's only going well because I have a great partner."

The kiss is right there, ready for you both to just take the plunge and do it. You don't though. The song ends and the two of you still for a few seconds until you slip your position into a hug that's far too tight and close for just coworkers. But you and Robby have never really been just coworkers, have you?

"I wish I was an attending already," you sigh forlornly.

He laughs a little sadly. "I do too, Kid. Trust me, I do too."

"My Michael," you whisper.

Robby isn't sure what, if anything, to say to that. But it's true. You both know it. He's yours. And you're his.

You really don't want to leave Robby's arms but you know you probably just crossed a line with that comment and that you have to go. And sometimes teasing yourself by being this close to him starts to get a little too painful. So you take a step back from him, pouting a bit without realizing it. "I should get home."

Robby doesn't want that. He doesn't want you to go home, doesn't want to feel your absence in his apartment like he always does when you leave. "Why don't you stay and sober up a bit and then I'll get you home?"

"Don't want me to leave yet, Robinavitch?" you smirk. Your heart leaps though, at him asking you to stay, wanting you to stay even when it's late. In response to his question you walk over to his couch and sit down, curling up in the middle of it, close to his corner spot, but a respectable distance away. For now. This is how you always start. You always end up leaning into him a little.

He watches you and continues to look at you once you've sat. He knows what he should do and what he wants to do. "It's late. You should go. I should make you go. I should walk you home or get us an uber to your place."

Your shoulders and face fall and you regret asking and giving him time to think about it. It feels like this is often how it is with Robby. Half the time he lets himself have what he clearly wants, leans into it all with you, and the other half he denies himself, really sticks to the lines he's drawn. He’s never consciously aware of that enough to think about what that must do to you, how that must feel. 

Robby swallows thickly and shrugs. "But I don't want you to go. Not yet. And not just because you're drunk." He gives you a little look with a smile. "So find something for us to watch while I grab you a drink and some ibuprofen."

"Okay." You beam at him and it's so blindingly beautiful it takes Robby a moment before he can force himself to turn and walk to his kitchen.

You grab the remote from the end table and turn Robby's TV on, pull up one of the streaming platforms and start looking for a show Robby likes. When you find one you get it ready to play as Robby comes back into the living room holding a bottle of an electrolyte drink in your favorite flavor and ibuprofen in one hand, his other hand behind his back.

"While I was in the kitchen I remembered that I just happen to have this." He brings his hidden hand in front of him, holding your favorite ice cream and a spoon.

You smile widely at him, holding out your hand for it but he hands you the drink and ibuprofen instead. "You just happen to have my favorite ice cream?" you tease before swallowing down the pills and sipping on your drink.

The words send a realization through the alcohol induced pleasant fuzziness of your mind. You look around Robby's apartment. It's so subtle, the things so small that you're not sure you'd have noticed it otherwise, not for a while at least. 

Your favorites are everywhere in Robby's apartment now.

Draped over the end of the couch on Robby's side is a blanket you've never seen before. It's made from your favorite type of fabric. On the other end table is a box of tissues, but your favorite brand. It's not what he used to get, you know because you playfully complained about it one time and he teased you for having a favorite brand of tissues.

There's a candle in the middle of his coffee table which isn't unusual, there were candles in his place the first time you came over before he ever went to your place. But the candle that's there now is your favorite scent. You're quite sure you've never told him what your favorite scent was and there are candles littering your apartment so he would've had to look at them all to find the one most prevalent, the one that you have in nearly every room.

Little things like that are dotted around his apartment. You don't come to his place that much so he did all of this for that sometimes when you do end up at his place. It feels like he's preparing too, preparing for you to be over way more often soon, and with the way things have been lately where he's sometimes saying maybe when you're an attending it sparks so much hope in you. It almost moves you to tears and you're glad you're drunk and he'll attribute your glassy eyes to that.

"Well maybe I had it stashed in there in case you ever had a really bad day and needed ice cream and to not be alone. But drunk at midnight on my couch watching trashy TV also seemed like a good time for it," Robby smirks as you take the ice cream and spoon from him and he sits next to you.

"It's the perfect time," you agree with a nod as you take the lid off. "Thank you."

You hit play and settle back into the couch, happily taking your first bite of ice cream when Robby turns to you when the title of the show plays on the screen. "You don't like this show."

"Yeah but you do." You shrug simply. "And I wouldn't say I don't like it. It's not my favorite, sure but I don't mind watching it with you."

Watching it with you. There's something so domestic about the phrase that hits Robby hard. There's something so domestic about this entire situation, and it's so easy for him to imagine this in a different context where you're sitting on his lap and offering him bites of ice cream from your spoon while his hands run over your thighs and back.

"I think there's very little I'd mind doing with you Michael," you hum, completely unaware of how hard your words continue to hit him. When he doesn't respond in a few seconds you look up at him as you pull the spoon from your mouth. He's giving you a lopsided smile and a look the alcohol makes it impossible for you to place. It's something you don't think you've seen from him before. His smile makes you smile back at him, drunk confused suspicion across your features that's way too precious for him to handle. "What?" you laugh the word a little.

"Nothing," Robby laughs, shaking his head. "I just think there's very little I'd mind doing with you too, Kid." You grin at him and if you were sober Robby's not sure he'd have been able to stop himself from saying fuck it and lunging at you and kissing you. "When you're an attending." He says it like a promise and you try to memorize his tone so you can think back on this the next time he says maybe and confuses you. "The second you're an attending on paper." 

He says your name first and you say his back in equal shock.

"Holy shit, how long has it been?" Robby's patient laughs. You'd only stopped in because Perlah found you and said Robby asked for you, wanted your opinion about a patient. Neither you nor Robby expected you to know the guy.

Robby's eyes move from you to the patient and back to you as he waits for you to reply, his hackles already rising and insecurity already flowing through him.

You give a shocked laugh and shake your head. "I don't… It has to be at least nine years. End of college. Medical school and residency was 8 years, I've been an attending for one."

"God, that feels like fucking forever and no time at all." The guy keeps smiling at you and Robby's blood starts to run a bit cold at the way the guy is looking at you. It's not just that you know each other, Robby already knows. There's more to the story of you and this mystery man. "You look damn near exactly the same, just more confident."

You huff a laugh. "Okay, well that's just not true and is pure flattery, but thank you."

Robby watches the guy glance down at your left hand and then back up at you. "I can't believe you're not married," he shakes his head at you, almost in wonder. You just roll your eyes at him.

Robby needs out of the room that's suddenly too small for him and making him panic as insecurities flood his mind. The anniversary of PittFest and your assault are looming and Robby is so incredibly on edge and this feels like something that would happen, that this guy will stick around and on the anniversary you'll leave, the worst day of his life will become worse again.

He's saved by Dana, who pops her head in. "Robby, I need you for a sec."

Robby nods at her and gives you a little nod. "I'm leaving you in our best hands, sir." He almost cringes as he walks out, not sure why he said that and made the awkward kind of compliment that probably just made him seem desperate and pathetic. Though, he supposes he is desperate and pathetic at this point.

You know something is up with Robby but turn back to the man once you watch Robby walk out the door and it closes. "I'm as good as married," you tell him with a small, firm smile.

"Is it inappropriate for me to say I'm disappointed to hear that?" he asks with a small nod to let you know he's relenting and respects that you're in a relationship.

"A little, but I suppose there's something genuinely flattering about it," you chuckle, shaking your head at him.

He laughs. "I was being serious earlier!" You just give him another eye roll. "Okay, but seriously. He treats you right? Is a good guy?"

You glance out of the window and smile to yourself as you watch Robby speaking with Dana at the hub. "Yeah," you nod, turning to look back at the guy, "he makes me the happiest I've ever been."

He seems to pick up on who your boyfriend is, a little smirk pulling on his face and his eyebrows raising. "That's him? Dr. Robby?" You bite your lip to stifle your love sick idiot grin and nod. "Mm, the handsome doctor. You go girl."

You snort a laugh at the last part, and he joins in your laughter for a few seconds. "So what actually brings you in today?" The guy explains and you examine him, go over a few potential diagnoses and the tests you'd like to run.

"Hey," he calls to you as you go to leave the room. You stop at the door and turn to look at him. "I'm really glad you're happy and found the right person. I can tell by the way you looked at him that he's the one you were meant to be with."

The smile he gives you is somewhat longing, but you can tell it's not for you but for that type of love. You smile at him softly, eyes appreciative. "I know you'll find your one soon," you nod at him before leaving the room.

Robby watches you walk out of his room and the soft smile on your face throws him even more. He knows he needs to get a fucking grip but he has no idea how to. You spot him watching you and your smile brightens and gets wider and a part of him melts the way he always does when you smile at him like that.

"Hi," you greet him as you walk up.

"Hi." It's a little more clipped than he means for it to be. He can feel you looking at him and he should let it go but he can't. "Long exam."

"Alright, come on." You wrap your hand around his upper arm and gently tug him along with you and into the supply closet, locking the door behind you and turning to look at him where he's walked further into the room. "Michael-"

"Who is he?" Robby interrupts you. He feels bad but he needs to know, needs confirmation.

You sigh softly. "He's my college ex."

"That's him?" Robby's heart speeds up more at the confirmation. Robby knows all about your college ex, you'd told Robby about him one night when you were a little tipsy at a bar long before you were together. Told Robby how you thought he was the one for a while but when you look back you can't see it so maybe you just wanted him to be because you wanted that kind of love, and then the world ended up dragging you apart for grad school so it must've been a sign. At the time it had made Robby feel like it could've been a right person wrong time situation but then the two of you grew closer and you never mentioned him again so he let that thought go. But it's now slammed back into him. "Well, the chemistry and attraction is clearly still there in fucking spades."

"It's not attraction on my side, though he pretty much admitted it was on his. And it's not chemistry, not really. It's familiarity and shock of seeing each other after so long." You walk closer to Robby and rest your hands on his chest. "There is nothing there, absolutely nothing. I didn't feel anything but surprise when I saw him. I've found the love of my life and it's you, Michael."

"He thinks you're single." Robby has no idea why he's continuing to push this and can't calm himself at least a little.

"No he doesn't," you tell him emphatically.

Robby huffs. "He said he couldn't believe you weren't married."

"You didn't hear the rest of the conversation, Sweetheart." You give Robby an understanding and patient smile. "Once you left I told him that I was as good as married. He asked if it was inappropriate for him to say he was disappointed to hear that and I told him a little, but there was something a bit flattering about it too. Then he asked if my partner treats me right and is good to me and I looked out the window at you and then, of course, said yes and that you make me the happiest I've ever been. He picked up on it being you and said the handsome doctor, you go girl and we laughed. And as I walked out he said he was really glad I'm happy and found you and that he could tell from the way I looked at you that I found the person I was meant to be with."

"And he's right." You start to rub your hands over his chest soothingly. "He's not a threat. I'm not going anywhere or leaving you, okay? And all the thoughts running through your head that I should leave and you don't deserve me and aren't enough or good enough are all wrong and your brain being a dick to you." Robby lets out a quiet laugh through his nose and shakes his head at the way you saw right through him and read his mind. "You're the one taking me home tonight and every night. You're the only one I want to go home with and to. You aremy home Michael. Nothing and nobody is going to change that."

He looks at you with anxiety still lingering in his eyes but a grateful smile that tells you that you've succeeded in reassuring him enough for right now. "You know I trust you, right?"

You laugh softly and nod. "I know you trust me. I understand. I understand how you're feeling, what jealousy is like. I know how irrational it is and I know that this isn't a reflection on me."

"Good. I'm glad you know," he whispers. You know it seems like the end of the conversation but you can tell there's more Robby wants to say so you don't make a move to leave the closet and go back to work, give him the time he needs and watch him.

He looks around the closet for a moment and then shrugs. "Anniversary is soon," he mumbles.

He doesn't need to specify of what. You know exactly what he's talking about but you want to focus on a different memory this closet holds. "Our anniversary was four-ish months ago."

Robby can hear the knowing smile in your voice and looks at you, gives you a slow smile and a small laugh. You're right, of course. This closet is where you had your first kiss and officially got together. He takes in a deep breath and holds it for a second before letting it out slowly and shaking his head a little, hunching and dropping his forehead to your shoulder, his hands settling on your hips.

You bring one hand to the back of his neck and use your other hand to run your fingers through his hair. "I know," you murmur, "I know it's heavy and it's hard and it sucks and I hate it too." You tilt your head so that it rests against his. "I want you to know there's nobody I would've rather gone through all of this with than you, Michael. I wish we didn't have to go through it of course, but I'm so glad it was you by my side."

Robby swallows hard and moves his head a little so he can press a kiss to the side of your neck. "And I'm glad it was you by mine." After a second he carefully lifts his head from your shoulder and takes your face in his hands. He pauses for a second. There's so much he wants to say and try to explain but right now he doesn't have the words. "I love you."

You smile at him, wrap your hands around his wrists and brush your thumbs against his skin. "I love you too."

Both of you naturally lean into each other and meet to kiss. You let it become whatever Robby needs it to be, wrap your arms around his neck when his hands leave your face so his arms can wrap around you and pull you closer to him as he kisses you harder and deeper.

"We could make another memory in here. Another good one," you murmur against his lips as you break apart to get some air, a dazed smile on your face.

Robby laughs and pulls back. "What, was the as good as married comment a hint?" he smirks at you.

You make a face of consideration and shrug. "I mean no, but if you take it that way I'm not exactly going to be mad about it and this would certainly be an interesting place to ask. I was thinking more along the lines of a quickie or me blowing you."

He groans through a laugh. "Don't tempt me."

"Oh, Michael," you murmur lowly, voice dripping in lust. "I've been thinking about your cock in my mouth all day, don't give me even a hint of a chance or I'll take it and beg you until you relent."

"Fuck," he breathes lowly. He's ready to give in already and you haven't even started to beg. But he knows you can't. Not today anyway, it's too busy. Robby leans in and kisses your forehead. "Tonight."

"I guess I can wait," you sigh overdramatically as you both walk to the door, Robby unlocking it and opening it for you. "Patience is not my forte."

Robby snorts a laugh as you both exit, closing the door behind you. "Don't I know it."

You click your tongue at him as you walk to the hub. "Maybe I won't want to anymore when we get home."

He turns and looks down at you once you've both paused at the hub. "You will," he smirks and winks at you.

You whine at him quietly, glad it's just the two of you at the hub. "That was mean, Robinavitch!"

"What?" He feigns innocence.

You roll your eyes playfully. "You know what."

Robby holds his hands up. "I can assure you I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm," you hum and nod at him. You grab a tablet and take a step away from him like you're about to walk somewhere. It puts him in the perfect position.

You make sure Robby can see you holding your pen and then deliberately drop it in front of you so that you have to bend over right in front of him, giving him the most incredible view of your ass as you pick it up and then continue on your way.

"Okay, winking was not as mean as that!" he calls to you under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You continue to walk a couple more feet to a patient's room and turn to look back at him before entering. "All's fair and whatnot," you smirk at him and wink.

The move gets you exactly what you want, Robby telling you to get on your knees the second your front door closes and fucking your mouth right there with you pinned to the back of the door before all but hauling you into the shower and returning the favor. By the time you actually curl up together to go to sleep that night you're both beyond sated and have never felt closer to the other.

The anniversary of PittFest and your assault comes and it's hard. The day is really fucking hard. But you and Robby know how to do hard together, know how to lean on each other and give and take and both fall apart at the same time and survive and how to love each other through it, and so you make it through the day.

And as the months continue to pass, things continue to get better. Time passes too slow in some moments and too fast in others as you and Robby continue to create your life together, to heal and grow closer and fall more in love.

You're not at home long once you're released from the hospital before you decide to go to the cabin. If anything both you and Robby are surprised you last at home as long as you did. You make arrangements to do your individual and couple's therapy via zoom for at least a week and then pack and get on the road.

You don't do much while you're there but that's kind of nice. Both of you need time away from the city and all of the memories it holds, need space to let the air clear so when you go back home it'll be lighter.

It's the first time you're here while it's snowing. You love watching the snow fall through the glass windows that make up the back wall, and Robby loves watching you watch it and the little smile you get on your face.

It's also the first time you get to use the fireplace and you tell Robby how much you enjoy it as you lounge on the couch one night, the smell of it and the roar and crackling of the fire. It takes some coaxing and creating a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of it, but you eventually coax Robby into fucking you in front of the fire place, reassuring him it won't hurt you.

Being here is perfect, the reset for you as individuals and as a couple that you've so desperately needed.

"There were so many times in the hospital that I wanted to just run away here. Ask you to bring me here and then leave AMA so we could be alone and I could pretend nothing had happened," you admit. You and Robby are enjoying a hot bath together, your back pressed against his chest and his hands roaming your skin like always.

He hums, moves his head so he can press a soft kiss to your temple and nuzzle his nose against your cheek. "You wanted this tub," he murmurs with a teasing seriousness, his beard tickling your skin.

"True," you giggle. You bring a hand up and back and run your fingers through his hair on the back of his head. "Well, really I wanted you in this tub with me, you taking a bath with me. There were some days I was so sore and I swear I dreamed of getting to have a hot soak against you in here." You stretch against him a bit at the thought, lowering your hand back down.

"I'm surprised you never asked or brought it up." Robby's large hands settle on your thighs for the moment and rub up and down with just enough pressure to make it feel like a little massage of your quads.

You sigh happily at the feeling and somehow melt further into him. "I never wanted to put you in the position of having to say no and feel like you were taking something comforting away from me and having to remind me that we couldn't, that I couldn't leave AMA. And I didn't want me bringing up leaving AMA to trigger a deeper anxiety than you were feeling in any given moment while I was in the hospital, like I didn't want you thinking about all the reasons I couldn't leave AMA and what could happen if I did. I knew the whole thing would kill you, having to say no and thinking about it. So I never asked or said anything. Being close to you was enough. Even when I was being awful to you."

He presses another kiss to your temple and lets his lips linger there. "Don't let yourself go there and think about the regrets and what you wish you did instead." He could hear it in your voice, the way you were about to start thinking about every time you felt you were awful to him in the hospital. "Stay right here with me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you murmur and nod.

Robby takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You know there were a lot of days where I wanted to just scoop you up and bring you here." Something about his admission makes your throat feel thick with emotion. "I knew it would do you so much good mentally and physically, would help you so much." And something about that admission has you near tears because it hits you so hard in the moment, makes you feel so loved.

He's a little confused at first when you push off his chest, his hands relaxing so that you can easily move away from him. All you do is turn to look at him, though, and then move back into his lap so you're effectively straddling him.

You take Robby's face in your hands, wetting his beard slightly. "Thank you."

His eyebrows raise slightly. "For what?" he whispers.

You let out the slightest huff of a laugh through your nose and shrug shallowly, run your thumbs over his cheeks. "Everything… Loving me and thinking of me like that… Staying. Even when I gave you a reason to leave."

Robby shakes his head, his hands settling on your waist and squeezing gently. He knows you mean leave forever, break up with you. "You never came close to giving me a reason to leave."

You give him a look and he shakes his head again in response, the two of you holding each other's gazes for a moment. "I love you, Michael," you whisper as one thumb drops down to brush over his lips.

He pushes his lips against your thumb in a gentle kiss and speaks against it. "I love you too, Kid."

You move your thumb and lean forward to kiss Robby and melt into him so that you're pressed together as much as possible. The kiss turns into another which turns into you and Robby slowly and truly sensually making out. His hands roam your body, the bath melt you'd used leaving the water even silkier and slipperier than normal. Your own hands move down to his neck and then to his hair at the nape of his neck.

Everything becomes heady, the feeling of your skin against each other, how the other tastes, the sounds of you kissing, the hot water that surrounds you, the smell of the bath melt. Your minds grow hazier and hazier, each kiss getting just a touch sloppier than the one before it as you lose yourselves to each other.

You feel Robby grow hard between the two of you and yourself grow wetter with every kiss and glide of his hands along your skin and throb of his cock against you.

There's no discussion, just you and Robby communicating through touches and soft sounds while you kiss. You move perfectly in sync while you continue to kiss, never stopping, as you move your ass and hips up just enough for Robby to grab himself and line up and push inside of you. His hands slide to your hips and he guides you to sink down on him and take him fully, both of you moaning into the kiss as Robby fills you more and more.

For a while once you've taken him completely there's no movement, just you and Robby kissing each other well beyond breathless and breaking for seconds of air only when you really have to. You start to move, keeping it slow, with long, drawn out movements to not displace the water too much yet. It builds easily though with the way Robby's hands are all over your body, squeezing your ass and thighs and breasts, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples.

"Michael," you moan, have to rest your forehead against his because you need more air than you can get kissing him. "You feel so good."

"I know, Baby," he murmurs, voice low and husky. "You're taking me so well, always take me so well."

Robby pulls his forehead from yours and drags his nose down your cheek to your neck and starts to kiss and suck at it. You let out a sigh of pleasure and let your head tip back and extend your neck for him, encouragement for him to keep going.

He's all over your neck with his mouth and his hands keep finding new places and ways to make you moan and whine for him. The water sloshes and laps more and more against the sides of the tub as you move quicker and less smoothly because of the pleasure overtaking you. Robby eggs it on, praising you between kisses and sucks to your neck about how beautiful you are, how amazing you sound for him, how good you feel and how he dreamed of this. How he loves when you fuck yourself on him.

When you tell him you're close he brings one hand to your clit and works you perfectly until you're shattering for him. He's not long behind you, hands squeezing your hips hard and grinding you down on him until he starts to hit painful overstimulation.

Your faces naturally move back together as you come down from your highs, Robby softening inside of you. "I love you," you murmur against Robby's lips before kissing him.

He doesn't break your kiss to say it back, just waits until the kiss ends naturally. "I love you more."

"Do you remember that night I brought you back to my place from some bar we all went out to and we danced to Can't Take My Eyes Off You?" Robby murmurs as he presses another kiss to your temple. "You were a little drunk."

You and Robby are laying spread out on the couch at the cabin, your back to his chest and your fingers playing with his where they rest near your hips as the snow falls outside one December evening. You've been together for over two and a half years now, and when the movie you were watching after your late dinner finished and the screen went black you somehow slipped into just sitting in the candle and firelight reminiscing about your favorite memories of your time together and the years that led to you getting together.

"Of course," you hum. "You thought I wouldn't remember because I was too drunk but I wasn't. And we had to go to your place because you refused to dance with me to that modern cover that played at the bar."

Robby chuckles. "It was less the modern cover and more the dancing in public if I'm honest."

"Yeah, I know." You squeeze his hands gently before resuming playing with his fingers. "I really liked that cover. I'm mad you distracted me and so I didn't shazam it."

"I didn't distract you!" he huffs. "You were the one that came over to Jack and I and started talking. And if I had danced with you, you wouldn't have shazamed it either."

"I suppose that's true, and I liked dancing with you." You smile to yourself and bring one hand up to the side of his face and scratch through his beard for a few seconds. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom."

As you start to get up Robby's arms wrap around you tighter. "No," he whines. "I don't want you to go."

"I'll come right back, I promise," you giggle. Robby grumbles playfully but releases you. Before you walk off you turn and look at him once you're standing, lean in and give him a kiss. "Needy man."

"You love it!" He calls after you, sighing happily to himself when he hears your laughter.

True to your word you do come right back after quickly peeing. You're surprised when Robby isn't still lounging on the couch. He's over near the record player looking at you expectantly in his perfectly just tight enough shirt and those god damn sweatpants that sit low on his hips.

You're ready to jump him.

Again.

You raise your eyebrows at him and give him an expectant smile in return as you start to make your way to him. Robby looks down at the record player once you're close enough and drops the needle, soft music filling the air after a second. Soft music that you recognize as the cover of Can't Take My Eyes Off You from that night at that bar all those years ago, the night he just brought up. Robby smiles widely as he watches you recognize the song and the cover. He holds his hands out to ask you to dance with him.

"Holy shit," you breathe out, taking his hands. "You found the cover? And on vinyl?"

"Anything for you my dear," he winks at you playfully, pulling you close to start dancing with you. This time you don't even bother starting in the normal slow dance position. You're close and intimate from the start, chests pressed together, Robby's hand on your lower back and one of your hands on the back of his neck. And you're dancing a little too slow for the song again but it doesn't fucking matter, as much as the song is the focus because he tracked it down, it's still not the focus. "Her name is Emilie Mover ," Robby murmurs as you sway together. "Getting the cover on vinyl was trickier, but I have my ways."

You bite your lip and smile at him, almost dizzy at how in love you are with him and how loved he makes you feel. "This is so sweet, Michael." You lean up as you dance and give him a soft, chaste kiss. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nuzzles his nose against yours. "Romantic?"

"Very," you giggle a little, kissing his chin.

"Good." The two of you dance mostly in silence, lost in each other's eyes and the moment and how close you feel.

It feels like a dream when you think about it too long or too hard. Dancing to this song Robby tracked down for you in the living room of his cabin which he loves to bring you to. Resident you could never have dreamed of this, of how it feels to be with Robby, to be so truly loved by him.

Roughly three-quarters of the way into the song Robby spins you slowly, his hand holding yours and moving down a bit as you move through the last of the spin. When you complete it Robby isn't standing there waiting to take you back in his arms and continue dancing.

He's down on one knee in front of you, the hand not holding yours holding a ring box. You gasp as you take it in while Robby uses skilled fingers to pop the box he'd slid into his pocket while you were in the bathroom open and reveal the ring, your eyes flicking over to it and then back to him. "Michael…" you trail off, tears forming in your eyes already as Robby beams at you.

You're absolutely dizzy now, and though the doctor in you knows it's not true, you feel like you're not breathing, like you're in a dream or something because there's no way. You let out a shaky breath, and press your free hand against your chest, the subtle heat of the fireplace to the side of you warming you further and the flickering light it gives off making Robby's brown eyes absolute molten. It just adds to your breathlessness.

"I can't breathe, Michael. I can't breathe, oh my god." Your eyes flash over at the ring and back at him and the happy overwhelm and disbelief and genuine confusion on your face is so adorable Robby almost forgets what he's doing. "Look at that ring! I, this can't be real. It's a dream, right? This can't be real, you can't want to marry me! That's just…why?"

He presses his lips together trying to keep from laughing at your perfectly you reaction. You seem happy but there's still a whole lot of nerves running through him about you saying no or you hating the ring or hating this, how he's proposing, how casual it is and how it's just the two of you in the cabin. He spent forever thinking about how to propose, is surprised Jack is still his best friend with how much Jack listened to him talk about it and think out loud.

At the end of the day, to him, this just felt right, keeping it incredibly intimate and just the two of you at a place you both love in the most romantic lighting from the candles and fireplace.

"It's very much real and not a dream," he laughs softly, the record clicking off in the background so that it's truly just you and him now. "And I'm trying to tell you why here, Kid."

You stare at him for a second, mind still trying to catch up and process. "Oh."

Robby smiles at you and lets out a quiet laugh through his nose before squeezing your hand. "I'm sure none of this is going to really be new material, I've probably said it to you before at some point, but when you get down here on one knee, everything starts to get a little fuzzy." His voice shakes just a little, revealing his nerves and excitement.

"Oh it is up here too," you nod, eyes wide and a small smile on your face.

"I figured," he laughs before whispering your name. It's like everything he had thought about saying is gone, so he just starts talking and hopes the right things will come out. "You're incredible. And you have no idea that you are. You think it's unreal that I want to marry you when I'm the lucky one."

A few tears slip down your face and Robby sniffles. "You're the best of me. You're my biggest supporter. You make sure that I never have to doubt that I can come to you and lose it or break down or whatever I need to do and you'll be there for me, even if you're losing it or breaking down too. You build me up and you listen to me and make sure I feel heard and that I feel seen. We've been through so much together and there hasn't been a single day where you haven't fought for me and for us or where you've started to give up, even when I was awful. You're patient and kind and understanding and you bring so much light into my world."

"And you love me, you make me feel so loved, always, all the time, no matter what. You love me even on the worst days, the days where I'm at my worst. You love me more than I think I deserve sometimes," his voice cracks and he presses his trembling lips together and tilts his head at you while tears finally spill over and slip down his face.

"I can't picture my future without you. Any time I think about the future, one year from now, two, five, ten, twenty, thirty, you're always there, always by my side. I want forever with you. I want to give you my last name and make work so fucking confusing." You both let out watery laughs at that, the humor so perfectly placed and infused in this moment. "I want to wake up to you in my arms or you holding me every day until I die. I love you. And I will never, ever stop falling in love with you," he says with the heaviest and deepest emphasis. Robby whispers your name again. "Will you marry me?"

You laugh through your tears, the sound watery and broken but unmistakably happy. "Yes." You nod at him. "Yes of course I will, Michael."

He lets out a sigh of relief even as ridiculous as he feels about it. He knew you'd say yes but still. "Oh, thank god."

"In what universe did you think I was going to say no?" you giggle at him as he pulls the ring from the box.

"I don't know, none, but you just get nervous down here!" he laughs. You hold your left hand out to him and stretch your fingers so that he can slide the ring on your ring finger. "I hope it's okay."

"Okay?" You pull your eyes from the ring to look at him, heart racing from the excitement and overwhelming joy you're feeling. He just asked you to marry him. You fall on your knees in front of him and hold his face. "Okay? You think it's just okay? It's so much more than okay, Michael, it's perfect! It's beautiful and it's so sparkly and it ties me to you!"

He beams at you, chuckling to himself and moving so that he's on both knees too before leaning in to give you a kiss. You smile into it and let your excitement get the better of you, threading your arms around his neck and nearly tackling him as you kiss, his legs moving to extend as he falls back to the floor, your hands preventing his head from hitting the rug too hard.

"Mph!" Robby laughs into the kiss, settling on his back as you settle on top of him, continuing to kiss and make out with him. He wraps his arms around you and lets his hands roam up and down your back and to your ass, squeezing and groaning appreciatively at the roll of your hips against his that it draws. "I see you've decided how you want to celebrate," he laughs a soft moan as your lips suck at the perfect spots on his neck. "There's a very nice bottle of champagne hidden in the fridge, just so you know."

You still at that for a moment before pulling up so that you're straddling him, hands planting on his chest. Your eyes search his. "What brand?" you murmur, as though you don't already know.

Robby doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to, not with his sparkling eyes and the small crooked smile and squeeze of your hips he gives you. It's the same brand as he got for your champagne tap all those years ago. Another couple of tears that never quite went away slip down your face and you lean back down to kiss him. "My Michael," you murmur, like you did that night you first danced to this song. You kiss his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids, his chin and his nose before kissing his lips. "I love you so fucking much Michael. You truly are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, even if you don't want to believe it."

Before he can argue you're kissing him again, hot and heavy with your hips rolling against his. Something about his overwhelmingly sweet and romantic and thoughtful gestures makes you fall more in love with him and so soft for him yes, but it also makes you need him, need to feel him everywhere and try to become as close as one with him as possible.

Robby is certainly more than responsive, his cock filling out quickly beneath you. He needs this just as much, needs you, to feel you and be inside of you and celebrate this and thank you for being with him and agreeing to marry him and never giving up on him or getting tired of him. He needs to show you how much he loves you in this way.

"Here?" he mumbles against your lips through fervent kisses, lets his hands play with the hem of your shirt.

You lean up, panting slightly from kissing, your eyes blown and lips swollen. "I have always wanted you to fuck me in front of the fireplace."

Robby's face furrows with amusement and he laughs. "I have fucked you in front of the fireplace. Many times. And I know you remember, I made damn well sure you'd remember. I actually felt really bad about the rug burn that one time."

"True," you sigh happily at the memories and how good that burn felt, how it reminded you of how good he'd fucked you for days as it healed. "And isn't it so good?"

"Being inside of you and fucking you anywhere is so good," he smirks at you, lifting the hem of your shirt and pulling it off you with your help.

You purse your lips playfully and give him a look. "Michael."

"It's true!" His hands find the clasp of your bra and unhook it, move the straps off your shoulders and get it off of you. He groans while licking his lips at the sight, his hips bucking up slightly. Robby's eyes find yours. "You do look so exceptionally beautiful beneath me in the firelight."

An arm wraps around you tightly and the next thing you know you're on your back against the rug, Robby on top of you but reaching back to grab a blanket and sliding it under you with your help. This is not the time for rug burn.

Your hands reach out and tug at the hem of his shirt, starting to lift it up, a small whine leaving your throat as his happy trail and tummy come into view. He grabs the neck of his shirt at his back and pulls it off, tossing it in the general vicinity of your clothes.

"In my opinion," you start breathlessly, chest heaving slightly at your need and how worked up you're getting, "in front of the fireplace sounds like the perfect place for you to fuck your fiancée for the first time."

It's not that he forgot you're engaged and his fiancée now, his brain just hadn't fully caught up and made the connection and it short circuits him. Hearing you call yourself his fiancée and the pride in your voice as you say it only sends him spinning further.

Your words have the intended effect, a smirk pulling onto your face as Robby stiffens a touch, his jaw clenching hard as his eyes somehow dilate more for you, possessiveness coursing through him. Just to work him up a little more you bring your hands to cup your breasts and squeeze, sighing a little moan and wiggling your left ring finger a little to draw his attention to it. "Michael," you murmur to help bring him back, "fuck your fiancée."

Robby drags his eyes from your engagement ring to yours. His voice is deep, almost a touch dark in the most seductive way, but still so full of love. "Yeah, alright," he rasps, dragging out each word, "I'll fuck you. Just remember you asked for it."

The rest of your trip at the cabin passes far too quickly for your or Robby's liking, but you make the most of it, snuggling and taking baths together and cooking together and making a snowman once enough snow accumulates. And fucking. So, so much fucking as you celebrate your engagement.

The smile Jack gives you when he spots you and Robby walking in for your first shift since your engagement tells you that he knew Robby was planning on asking. His eyes don't even leave yours or Robby's to glance down at your left ring finger to confirm it.

"Congratulations," he nods knowingly at you as he hugs you when you get close enough. "I'm so happy for you guys," Jack whispers to you, rubbing his hand up and down your back before you both break the hug.

"Thank you Jack," you murmur back to him.

"Congratulations brother," Jack nods at Robby before hugging him properly, clapping him on the back. "I'm thrilled for you both and so happy to see you this happy." Jack cups the back of Robby's head and tugs on his hair side to side affectionately. "She is too."

Robby swallows hard at that, feels the pressure of tears forming behind his eyes. He and Jack's wife had a relationship similar to yours and Jack's and Robby knows that's who Jack was talking about. Sometimes there's a certain pang in Robby's heart when talking about things like this with Jack because Robby knows it takes him right back to the memories of these moments with his wife even though Robby knows he doesn't mind and would never want Robby to not share.

"Thank you, Brother," Robby whispers.

The two separate and look back over at you. Although Jack was hushed when he spoke to Robby, he was still loud enough for you to hear him and like Robby you know who he was talking about and it makes your heart ache for Jack and his loss and also at how sweet and loving to her and Robby it was for him to say. It makes you a little teary.

"Well don't cry!" Jack laughs, his voice teasing and amused. He clearly knows it was his words that got you teary. "Jesus! It's a good thing!"

"No, I know, it's just sweet!" you intone, shrugging at them. "It was a really sweet and loving thing to say and I…" you shrug at Jack again, clicking your tongue and scoffing at yourself when a tear or two do escape and fall down your face, wiping them away quickly. Now you're not sure if you should say it and prolong the conversation about Jack's wife, worried it's unfair to him and just going to make him sad. "I wish I could've met her. And I'm sorry for prolonging this and I don't want to make you sad, it was just really sweet and I'm sappy right now."

Jack and Robby chuckle at your reaction, each of them moving closer to hug you from the side at the same time. You move your arms and hug them both back, resting your head against Jack's shoulder for just a second in acknowledgment before settling it against Robby's.

"It's okay. I like talking about her, it's not making me sad. Nostalgic, sure, but not sad." Jack pulls out of the hug, looking at you as you remain tucked against Robby's side. His smile is wistful but genuinely happy. "And for the record, she would've loved you." 

You return his smile and Jack sighs. "I can't believe the day has come that our dear Michael is engaged. About time you asked," he teases Robby.

You can just about feel Robby roll his eyes at Jack and it makes you laugh. They really are like brothers.

"Yeah, yeah," Robby grumbles.

"Dana and I listened so patiently to every proposal idea he had, reassured him a million times that you were going to love the ring and however he ended up proposing to you." He smirks at Robby. "And that you were going to say yes."

Robby huffs and shakes his head and you giggle, at his reaction and at how cute the thought of him planning and worrying out loud to Dana and Jack is. You squeeze Robby's hip where your hand rests, arm still along his back in the half hug. "You were right. It was perfect and I love the ring so much and it was the easiest yes of my entire life."

Back at home that night you and Robby are chilling on the couch when you bring up the wedding. You guys had talked about after you got engaged at the cabin of course, but didn't really make any decisions. And you know there's time and no rush to it but some part of you feels unsettled or restless about it.

"Have you thought anymore about the wedding?" You're cuddled into Robby's side and slip one of your hands into his and start playing with his fingers.

"I mean, I think about the wedding and marrying you all the time," he chuckles. "But I guess I haven't had any super concrete thoughts about it. I figured we'd get there when we did."

"Yeah," you murmur distractedly, clearly in your head about something.

Robby frowns to himself, not because anxiety rushes over him and he thinks that you don't want to marry him anymore, though that thought crosses his mind, but because he doesn't like you getting in your head and being upset.

"Hey." His fingers overpower yours to still them so you'll look up at him. "Talk to me."

You let out a deep sigh and shrug. You're worried that sharing how you're feeling is going to bring up trauma and send him spiraling which you would completely get. But he knows something is up and it's just as bad to leave him wondering what has you like this in relation to marrying him.

"I just…" You shift yourself so that you're still pressed against him but not curled in so that you can see each other better. "I don't want to trigger you, and it's not that I… There's just this part of me, this big part of me that doesn't want to wait. Yes, because I'm just so ready to be married to you and be Dr. Robinavitch too, but also, I don't know. With everything we've been through, time can mean everything, you know? We could theoretically not have enough time together, have our time together stolen before we could get married. And it's not like I think something is going to happen or anything like that, I genuinely don't, but our past just makes me not want to wait. I'm not even sure if I want a big wedding or even a small-ish one. I want to celebrate with our family and friends of course, but I don't know. Planning a wedding is so much work and I'm almost restless in some way."

Your words do send a wave of uneasiness through him. Because you're right. You're both well aware that something could happen tomorrow or the next day or in a week or a month that could change everything, that could steal your opportunity to get married.

Robby squeezes your hand to ground himself as much to ground you. "I can understand that, yeah." He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He certainly wouldn't mind a courthouse wedding with you but he also would be far, far, from opposed to taking off somewhere and doing it there. "We could elope."

You're not entirely sure why his words catch you as off guard as they do. There's something so romantic about it to you, the idea of running off together and getting married just the two of you. The idea that Robby would want to do that with you. "You'd be okay with that?"

"Kid, I'm okay with anything wedding related so long as it ends up with you as my wife and me as your husband," Robby laughs, a teasing glint to his eyes.

"Michael," you tilt your head at him, "I'm serious."

"So am I!" He smiles at you and turns slightly and reaches over, pulling you onto his lap. "I'm more than happy getting married to you anywhere, anytime. Eloping has crossed my mind before though, yeah. I'd be more than okay with it."

He's too cute for words sometimes, and this is one of those moments where his cuteness and adorableness with how he's showing you how much he loves you overwhelms you. "I love you," you murmur to him as you take his face in your hands and then kiss him, over and over because he's so cute and adorable and precious and handsome and he loves you so much and makes sure you know it and you love him so much and he's yours. Your Michael.

"I love you too, Kid," Robby murmurs back a little breathy as you kiss his forehead.

"Where would you want to do it?" You settle back on his lap and run a hand through his hair. "Like international or domestic?"

He hums and leans into your touch for a moment. "Wherever."

You click your tongue at him. "Really?"

"I mean it!" Robby pinches your ass playfully.

"I know you do!" you giggle as he pretends to try to tickle you. "But you must have somewhere in mind!" Robby laughs shyly and shrugs at you which all but confirms he does have an idea in mind. "You're the one who suggested it!"

"Yeah, but I just want wherever would make you happy!" You give him a look that tells him you know he has a place in mind. "Italy," he finally admits. Because he's been thinking about it since before you even got engaged. He's truly on board with marrying you anywhere though, giving you the wedding of your dreams whatever that looks like, but yeah. He's thought about eloping with you because he loves the idea of it being this intimate thing between the two of you and getting to have you to himself all day and night. "I've thought about us eloping to Italy before."

"You want to elope with me to Italy?" You bite your lower lip and smile. You're ready to jump him right here and then book plane tickets to Italy for tomorrow, fuck work and everything else.

"Yeah, I do." He nods, smiling widely at you. "I wanna steal you away and make you mine even more and get to see you looking beautiful in whatever you decide to wear in the Italian sun. Have it be just us and get you all to myself on our wedding day and night."

You look at Robby with what you're sure is the mushiest, most love-sick smile. "You're the sweetest and most romantic, you know that?"

"I try," he chuckles, running his hand along your thigh. "And we could do a kind of reception, a party with everyone when we're back."

"Yeah, that would be nice." You nod. "I do want to share and celebrate with them too, but I really do love the idea of it just being us and not having to take the time to plan a whole thing."

"So you wanna do it?" he asks softly, bringing his forehead to yours. "Elope to Italy?"

"Yeah," you breathe, beaming at him, this man you're going to get the privilege of calling your husband sooner rather than later. "I wanna elope to Italy and have it be just us."

And so, three and half months later you find yourself in the bathroom of your suite in Ostuni getting ready to marry Robby.

It was easier to plan than you imagined, and you and Robby came a couple of days in advance to do some sight-seeing and relax and just be together and focused on each other. You'll stay for a good bit after too, travel to a couple of other places in Italy and Croatia on your honeymoon before returning home.

Robby is already up on the small, romantic rooftop of the tiny family-owned inn you're staying at. The roof overlooks the whitewashed buildings of the city and the sea, the backdrop gorgeous, especially with the setting sun, the sunset more beautiful than you both could've hoped for, the sky stunning with light lilac and pink and orange. It's just dark enough that the fairy lights around the rooftop add a romantic touch to the setting.

He touches his pocket again to make sure he has your wedding bands and his vows, his hands shaking far more than he thought they would because he can't fucking believe this is happening. He's actually marrying you after all these years, after almost four full years of not being able to have you and then almost losing you.

As you finish getting ready you're a bit shocked that you're able to keep your hands steady enough to finish the last touches and get yourself in your dress. You'd managed to find a dress the store could sell you off the rack and it was perfect, the dress you would've picked if you had all the time in the world to order it in. You tuck the veil into your hair how you've practiced a million times, wanting it more for the photographs later than anything, but it also feels like a nice traditional touch.

You make sure you have your vows with you and let the photographer know you're ready so she can take some pictures of just you in the suite and in some of the rustic hallways on the way to the roof. She's already done the same with Robby as he's been waiting out there for you.

Robby turns to face the buildings and the sea when you come up the stairs so that you can get your dress situated for when he first sees you. He hasn't seen you yet and you've only seen his back but you're both emotional and a little teary already.

"Michael," you call to him once you have your dress smoothed out and in place how you want it.

Robby closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before turning around. He'd given you a vague description of what he was going to wear, but seeing him standing there in the Italian setting sun with the whitewashed buildings and sea glittering behind him is more than you ever could've imagined. He's wearing a long sleeve and collared cream color linen shirt, just thin enough that his tanned skin gives it a little more color, with two buttons open to give a teasing peak of his chest, and a pair of khaki chinos that fit him perfectly.

Robby's so handsome you feel the physical ache in your body at the thought that he's yours and about to be your husband and wants you, chooses you. He's beautiful, brown eyes pulling a touch lighter and more golden against his tan skin and in this lighting, especially now that they're glassy with tears, his smile radiant and boyish as he takes you in and looks at you in disbelief and like he's the luckiest bastard in the entire world.

Because he is. God, he fucking is, look at you. He knows immediately that there are no words that would do justice to how beautiful you look right now in your wedding dress, veil delicately draping down behind you. You look luminous in this lighting and your dress fits you perfectly, in fit and in style and personality.

He's never seen anything so beautiful and you're fucking his. You want to be his. You're about to marry him and take his last name. It's hard for him to even think because you're so gorgeous as you slowly walk over to stand next to him. You just become more beautiful as you get closer, the finer details on your dress now visible to him and your eyes he's fallen in love with and seen express every possible emotion are glassy but bright, so very bright at the prospect of marrying him. You're smiling at him in disbelief too, like you're the luckiest woman in the entire world. Because you are and you know it.

"Hi," you giggle as you walk up to him, taking his hands and squeezing them to help ground the both of you.

"Hi," he laughs back softly, a few tears finally sliding down his face now that you're right here next to him where you belong and will stay forever, willingly, his partner and lover and biggest supporter. And he can't help but be a little smacked in the face with the realization that he could've not had this, you could've died. It doesn't make him sad and it fades quickly, only serving to make him appreciate this and you all the more.

"Don't cry," you whisper as you bring a hand up to wipe his tears, some falling over your lash line now. This is your man, your Michael, crying at the prospect of marrying you right now and at seeing you in your wedding dress and at how much he loves you. He's yours and is about to promise to be yours forever and you couldn't get close enough to him if you tried, couldn't express your love enough. You just really fucking love this man. This man who's stood by your side on the worst days of your life, who's confronted his demons so that he could be better for himself and for you, who's never let you feel truly unloved since you officially got together. This man who chooses you every day.

"You're just so beautiful," he tries to laugh through his tears. "I can't even begin to say, beautiful isn't a strong enough word, I don't think there are any. You're perfect, my gorgeous girl. And you're about to marry me and that's still almost unthinkable for me." Another cascade of tears falls down his cheeks. "You don't cry either."

"Impossible not to, Michael.” You sniffle and Robby's free hand comes up to gently wipe the tears from your face. "You look so handsome, I can't even begin to say it either. You're everything, Michael. And I can't believe you're about to marry me. My Michael."

You smile at each other for a moment and take in a couple of deep breaths and clear your throats before letting your officiant know you're ready. You'd decided to write personal vows but keep them shorter to not completely overwhelm each other and keep the ceremony short enough to have time to get pictures with the sun still setting.

Robby goes first, pulling out two handkerchiefs from his pocket. "Forgot I had these," he chuckles, handing you one.

"Thank you," you laugh softly, dabbing at your tears.

He takes his piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it before taking one of your hands in his again. He starts with your name and then swallows hard before continuing. "The first day I met you I knew you were special. Not just as a doctor but as a person, and not just to the Pitt but to me. And I was right. You quickly became an essential part of my life and shifts without you and days without seeing you were close to unbearable. You've changed my life for the better in so many ways, so many ways that you don't understand and that I'll never be able to convey."

The two of you exchange teary smiles and sniffle, wiping your tears away as Robby continues. "You are the most beautiful and precious thing in the world to me and I promise you that I will always be here for you, I will always do whatever I can to help you, whatever you need. I'll walk through hell, again, hand in hand with you until we make it to the other side. I will be faithful and honest, speak with kindness and love and ask for forgiveness and apologize when I falter. I will cherish every day I get to spend with you and never take my time with you for granted, never take you for granted. I will never stop dating you and trying to woo you." You both laugh a little at that and your giggle makes Robby beam even harder. "I will never stop fighting for you and for us."

He pauses to take a breath and then makes sure he has your gaze, softening his eyes further into something even more earnest and genuine. "And I will love you more every tomorrow than I did every yesterday."

You tilt your head at him, pressing your lips together and squeezing his hand as more tears fall. "Michael," you whisper. It feels impossible but you resist the urge to lean up and kiss him and tackle him in a hug and cry into the top of his head about how perfect and sweet and romantic and loving he is as you cradle his head to your chest.

The officiant lets you know it's your turn and you pull out your piece of paper and unfold it, taking one of his hands just like he did with yours. "Michael. When we made eye contact for the first time when I was an intern you made me feel seen in a way I'd never felt before, and you have every day since, even during our worst moments. I think I knew you were the one then because some part of me just knew and still knows that nobody will ever look at me the way you do. Nobody will ever make me feel as seen and understood as you do. Nobody will ever make me feel like enough with a single glance like you do."

Both you and Robby take in shuddery breaths and he does you the favor of using his handkerchief to blot at your eyes to help you see more clearly before doing the same to his. You shoot him a grateful smile. "You are my world. You're my lover and my confidant, my joy and my shoulder to cry on, my comfort and my rock. You are my home and my best friend. You love me wholly and unconditionally despite seeing me at my absolute worst and lowest."

Your voice breaks a little as you get more emotional. "And I promise to love you the same, to love you through anything life tries to throw at us and to be for you all the things that you are for me. I promise to be faithful and truthful and to respect you and to always be by your side. I promise to apologize when I mess up and to seek your forgiveness and talk things out. I promise not to take a single second with you or your love for granted and to never give up on you or us."

Like Robby did, you take a moment and a breath to recenter yourself and make sure you have his full gaze with yours. "I promise that I will always remember why I fell in love with you and will continue to fall more in love with you. I promise to spend my life making sure you know and feel how much I love you. And I promise I will love you with every piece of me until the end of time."

The smile Robby gives you drowns in the fresh wave of tears that fall down his cheeks but is stunning nonetheless. He wants to grab you and hold you close and kiss you until you're both seconds from passing out and then finish this ceremony quickly and take you away and never go back to the real world. He wants to stay here in this bubble forever.

Your officiant lets you know it's time to exchange rings and you do, the ring vows you'd chosen to make to each other short and sweet and simple, but perfectly imbued with so much meaning and love. "I give you this ring as a reminder that I will love, honor, and cherish you in all times, in all places, and in all ways, forever."

And then, after what feels like both the longest and shortest ceremony, you're pronounced husband and wife and Robby is told to kiss his bride. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, your arms coming up so you're gently holding his neck as Robby kisses you for the first time as your husband. It's chaste, classy and respectful, but it lingers, leads to a second kiss where Robby dips you a little because he knows you'll love it and it'll make a beautiful photo.

When he returns you both to standing he gives you another kiss and keeps his forehead brushing yours, angling so that you guys can see each other. "Hi, Dr. Robinavitch," Robby murmurs to you, unable to stop beaming.

You giggle at the realization, nuzzling your nose into his and moving your hands to run your fingers through his hair before you murmur back to him. "Hi."

There is no reason to be this jealous. You know there is absolutely no fucking reason.

Robby is with you, he's committed to you. He's excited to finally get to be with you.

Right?

You're still quite newly together and because of you making you guys wait, and Robby getting sick and then you getting sick, you only started having sex like five days ago. Two and a half of those days were spent nearly entirely in bed together fucking and snuggling and sleeping on your days off. You had sex twice last night once you were home from work. He enjoys it. He seems to enjoy it.

Maybe he doesn't really. Or maybe he does enough or maybe he just likes getting to have sex again. Maybe it and you in general are enough for right now until he can find someone new and better. Like her.

Your brain is kind enough to give you a break from the jealousy and self-doubt and insecurities taking over so that you can mentally berate yourself and fall into self-loathing about doubting Robby or thinking he would ever do something like that because you know he wouldn't. You know he wouldn't.

You've heard about her from multiple people today, how great she is. You've heard her be flirty. You've heard her flirt with your boyfriend.

She's everything you're not. She's closer to his age but still looks young and you know he's sensitive about the years between you at times, not that it’s particularly extreme. She seems happy and sunny and optimistic and mentally stable. Your brain clicks back over. She seems like she wouldn't be as much work to be with as you, like she'd be able to take care of him better and not burden him with her own shit and not be something for him to deal with. And he deserves that.

Maybe you've made him realize what he doesn't want in a partner, have just given him the confidence to get back out there and look for what he really wants. Maybe he waited to give it a shot with you because he thought it was there but turns out it wasn't so now he's looking again.

You're being ridiculous. The scratches healing on his back are from you and the bruises healing on his tummy are yours. He's groaning your name when he comes and mumbling about you in his sleep and falling into your arms at the end of the day and seeking you out when he needs help and to be comforted. Willingly. Because he wants to. Because he chooses you.

For now.

You fucking hate yourself.

You have to pull it together and get out of your head.

"Hey, can you come take a look at this kid with me? Something's off but I can't quite put my finger on what." Samira interrupts your deluge of thoughts.

Perfect. The distraction to get out of your head, not the sick kid. "Of course, what's going on?"

Robby knows this woman is flirting with him. It's stunningly subtle in comparison with how patients usually flirt. He has no idea that's what makes it worse for you. He has no idea you're jealous or that he's kind of flirting back with her, or that flirting is at least one interpretation of his behavior. Robby thinks he's just being nice and listening to everything she has to say and validating and engaging in conversation because he needs satisfaction scores up and because what she talks about is objectively interesting.

He lets her know he'll be back to check on her and hopefully with some test results and they can go from there and then leaves her, smiling to himself when he finds you alone at the hub.

"Hi," he greets you as he walks up, standing a professional distance away from you. Everyone knows about the two of you but you still act professional at work obviously.

"Hey." You glance up at him and give him a quick smile.

"Day going okay?" Robby asks. "Any interesting patients?"

You know what that is. An invitation for you to return the question so he can tell you about his interesting patient and you already know it's her. He wants to talk to you about her.

"It's been fine," you shrug, "nothing particularly interesting, no." You don't ask it back. You won't.

"Good, good," he murmurs. A few seconds of silence pass. "I have this really interesting patient, from like a medical perspective and a personal-"

"Mm, yes I've seen and heard and been told about her and how great and interesting she is," you interrupt him, not wanting to know wherever he was going with that train of thought. Personal. He thinks she’s interesting from a personal perspective. You’re losing him. "You're quite the lucky man to get to treat her from what I surmise."

Robby's eyes narrow a touch at you. That was strange. You're acting like you used to before you were together when you'd get jealous about a patient or whoever else flirting with him.

"She's very flirty." You say it far too casually and monotone. Your eyes glance up at him, you hope somewhat surreptitiously and he's blushing. He's fucking blushing. He's blushing like he used to when you flirted hard with him. Do you even make him blush at all anymore? You could be sick the way the jealousy and self-doubt and insecurity twist your insides. "And beautiful."

"I mean, you know, sometimes patients are just like that, are flirty," he laughs. Robby doesn't address the beautiful comment because he's not even thinking about her like that so it doesn't matter to him. But it matters to you and he says nothing about it and combined with him laughing while blushing you want to cry.

"Yeah," you click your tongue, nodding slowly. You're holding back the 'yeah, they are, I've just never seen you flirt back so hard with one of them' that you want to say. You know deep down that he's not flirting back deliberately.

Robby watches you for a moment. "You're jealous." He says it with a smirk on his face and in his voice. He is so blissfully oblivious to how serious and not funny this is to you. It's not the same jealousy that you used to get when you weren't together. And Robby doesn't realize how truly insecure you are, and you don't fault him there because you try to hide it from him.

"I'm not," you lie and you both know it. "Just making observations."

"I cannot believe you're jealous," he laughs incredulously. He truly can't. What is there for you to be jealous over from a her standpoint and from a him standpoint?

You stiffen, and even though he can't see your eyes, Robby can tell you just shut down a little. He takes a breath to speak but you beat him to it. "Laughing at me about it really makes me feel so much better, thank you so much for that." Robby lets out a breath but you shake your head. "I have to go over these test results with Samira." You walk away before he can say anything.

"Kid!" he calls after you. You hear it but don't react other than to slow down on one step so that he knows you heard. Robby's heart sinks. He wasn't laughing at you and he didn't realize this was so serious to you and that it isn't the same kind of thing that it was before you were together.

You throw yourself into work, don't take a break for a second because if you do then you'll think about it and you don't have the luxury of crying or having a moment here at work. You don't see Robby, or at least you do your best not to and to have someone else with you if you do have to talk to him. You do your best to ignore her and to not look in her direction or at her when you walk by so that you don't see them together.

The one time that fails is when you hear Robby laugh. Really laugh. Not the fake laugh you guys have all perfected that you usually use with patients. His real laugh. Which means his real smile. You already know where he is and who he's with but you torture yourself and look up to see it anyway. Look up right in time to see her touch Robby who's sitting on a stool next to her bed, to see her put her hand around his lower arm and squeeze, just like you do as a little touch of affection. You look up right in time to see Robby let her and not move her hand away.

He does, of course, the second the shock of her actually touching him like that fades. He does the second after you look and walk away.

It can't be much more than two hours later when you're charting close enough to hear them, especially since she doesn't try to keep her voice down.

"Robby, give me your number, please. And when I'm alive at the end of all of this I'll let you know and then we'll go on a date, yeah?" she asks. You swear to god she's trying to purr it at him.

You make yourself stand there and wait to hear what he says of course, your fingers and toes already going numb.

"Oh, no," he laughs awkwardly, so beyond flustered. He doesn't want this at all, is suddenly so beyond uncomfortable. "No, I'm, I'm sorry, I can't. I, I have a girlfriend."

You knew he would give that answer, you really did because you know him and how he feels about you but you try to convince yourself you're surprised for whatever stupid reason. You don't stick around to hear more of what he has to say, logging off and walking outside into the ambulance bay for some air.

You're not out there very long when you hear footsteps growing closer as you lean against the wall with your head tilted back and eyes closed.

"Hey," Robby says softly, trying not to sneak up on you and scare you. "I've been looking for you and trying to get a moment alone with you for a while now."

You don't say anything for a moment, debating how to respond in your head. Eventually you open your eyes and bring your head back down to look at him. "Oh yeah? Since before or after she touched you like I do and you let her? And before or after she asked for your number and asked you out and you remembered just in time that you have a girlfriend?"

Robby's jaw slackens at your words. "I didn't just remember!" He scoffs. You're being unfair and you both know it. "I didn't and I don't fucking forget that I'm with you. How are you this jealous, Kid? She's nothing like you! She's not you-"

"Yeah and that's what makes her better to you, isn't it?" you snipe defensively.

That rocks Robby a little and he takes a step back. After a moment he speaks. "Kid, please, give me a break here. There's no possible way you can just, just all of the sudden be this ins-"

As he goes to say the word it hits him. You are. You are this insecure. Every small moment he thought might be something that you brushed over so well and every offhand comment you've made about yourself races through his mind and together they add up to it. To you being as insecure as he is at times.

Which means just about everything he's said and done today has been the exact opposite of what you needed. Especially what he just started to say.

"Be this what, Michael? I can't possibly be this what?" you say quietly, an edge of challenge to it trying to cover your hurt that he sees right through. "I can't possibly be this insecure? Can't possibly be as insecure as you? Well I am. I fucking am. I always have been. I just, I just try to…" When the tears hit your eyes you stop, holding up your hand so he doesn't speak. Hide it. Those are the words that go unspoken. You just try to hide it.

Robby wants to say something but doesn't, respecting you asking him to not. The glassy shine to your eyes kills him though. He just wants to wrap you in his arms and reassure you and he knows the battle you're fighting internally right now and how you feel and he hates that you're hurting the way you are.

"It doesn't fucking matter." You look away from him and blink the tears away and shut yourself off further, build up high, high walls in seconds because if you don't you won't make it through the rest of this shift. It makes your voice grow cold and has you saying something you shouldn't say as some fucked up form of self-protection before you walk back inside. "Do whatever and whoever you want, Michael."

When the shift is over and has been handed off to Shen you don't wait for Robby. As everyone else starts to leave you head out with them. You always wait for Robby to finish handing off or chatting with Jack when he's coming on or wrap up with a patient. But you can't today. You just can't.

It's not how you should react. You should go to your place or to Robby's and work it out with him. Because you know you can. You know you guys will work this out and fix it and he'll forgive you. Or at least you hope he will.

But something about this really shook you. So you go out. Alone. Some random bar you haven't been to before. Robby texts you as you nurse drink number one.

You don't look at your phone again until drink number two. There's multiple missed calls and a voicemail, some texts.

And you don't. You don't look at your phone again as you drink, as you ignore the men and women who try to talk to you and hit on you. You don't look at your phone as you hit a fuzzy numbness. You don't look at your phone again until your night is over and you're so drunk you're actually cut off, which you find hysterical because you've never been cut off before in your life.

Even when you do look at your phone you don't look to see if you've gotten anything from Robby. Instead you have the bartender help you call an uber and get yourself inside it, stumble out of it once you're at your apartment complex.

You don't remember leaving that lamp on when you walk in your front door. You haven't been here in a couple of days and there's no way you left it on. The mystery is solved when Robby speaks. "You're home."

"Fuck!" you gasp, stumbling back a little as you work on closing the door. You didn't think he would stay at your place. "You scared the fucking shit outta me." Your words slur together a bit.

Oh, you're shitfaced, Michael realizes, you're probably not going to remember a lot of the night, shitfaced. "So you were at a bar, I'm guessing. Alone?" You giggle and nod as you struggle to get your shoes off. "And took an uber home alone?" He walks over and helps you get your shoes off. Robby doesn't show it but he's pissed at you for this, not for getting this drunk or having to take care of you but for putting yourself in danger by being alone.

"Yeah," you draw the word out, everything you say coming out quite slurred. "But I'm so glad you're here!" Once he's standing back up in front of you, you throw your arms around him and kiss him, shockingly chaste.

"I'm glad I'm here too, yeah." He feels like this isn't going to go well but is glad you both have tomorrow off at least.

"Let's go to bed," you sigh against his lips, releasing him and taking a few seconds to be able to grab his hand before leading him to your room. Robby really hopes you aren't about to try to take this where he's pretty sure you're going to because he knows his answer is going to feel like rejection and on top of today at work that's just going to be too much for you. But he can't leave you alone and he doesn't want to.

Sure enough you pull your shirt and pants off so that you're in just your bra and underwear once you're in your room and standing by your bed. You go for Robby's shirt and he lets you, hoping you won't go for his sweatpants and you'll really just get in bed.

You kiss him, escalate it quickly, as you press yourself against him and let your hands sprawl over his back as you start rocking your hips against his, hands playing with the waistband of his sweatpants. It makes him break the kiss.

"We can't right now." He grabs your hands and holds them in his, doesn't let you pull them away. Robby's eyes are pleading with you but he's not sure you can read them. "I can't have sex with you right now as much as I love having sex with you. You're way too drunk. Please don't read anything into this, if you weren't this drunk I'd be inside you in a heart beat."

The amount of hurt and rejection and something like confirmation that colors your face at his words makes Robby nauseous. You pull your hands away from him and take an unsteady step back so there's not quite enough and yet too much space between you. That painful amount of space that amplifies emotions and words. "Yeah? That really why?"

"Yeah," he whispers. He hates this. "Let's get in bed and sleep it off, okay? We can talk tomorrow."

"Or is it because I’m not good and don’t please you or is it because you'll be thinking of her and are worried you'll say her name?" you slur, hurting so badly you don't know that you can stand it for much longer. Your heart is legitimately breaking. You waited so long for him just to be thrown away when he found someone better.

"Kid," Robby sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He's not sure exactly how to handle this. "I-"

You're perfectly still as you interrupt him. "I would just like to point out that even fucking plastered I didn't flirt with anyone despite a lot of people trying to flirt with me. But you did at work. Sober. Where you're supposed to be professional. You barely fucking flirt with me at work, Michael. But her…"

"I wasn't flirting with her," Robby protests. But you don't take in his words.

You're quiet for a second, look away from him in thought until you finally look back up at him, eyes just starting to show the glass of tears on top of the alcohol. "What is it? What does she have that I don't, Michael? She prettier to you? You didn't deny she was beautiful. You think she'd be better in bed? She'd feel better to be inside than me? That why you won't fuck me now? Has it always been bad? Have I never truly satisfied you? I can learn. You can teach me."

"Sweetheart, no." Tears form and sting at his eyes while he shakes his head at you. This is so, so much worse than he thought. "No, you-"

"She more interesting than me?" There has to be a reason and you need him to tell you. "Smarter? She probably is. And she was so happy and positive and upbeat and jesus fucking christ she seemed so mentally well and together. So it's probably that, right?"

"Because we both know I'm none of those things and just another fucking dark cloud over you. And she made you happy. Genuinely happy. I heard you laugh with her. Really laugh. When's the last time I made you laugh like that? She made you happy and I don't, not really. I don’t make you happy." You shake your head at him, look almost helpless, like you're not sure what to do but are willing to try anything. "I can try harder to become better. I can change, I can become happy and optimistic and the sunshine you need."

"She had more to give and less to take, didn't she? She could take care of you better than I could? Or, or. Or, she's easier, right? She just seemed easier to be with? Like she wouldn't need taken care of or wouldn’t make your life harder or be a burden? I can be that." You're pleading with him, eyes wide, tears close to spilling over. "I can, I promise, if you just give me a chance. I can go back to how I was and keep everything inside and not show anything. I can be what you need me to be. I don't want to lose you if I haven’t already. So please, please let me try."

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

The saying runs through Robby's mind as he listens to you and his heart is fucking breaking, shattering painfully in his chest, because you mean this shit. You feel this way. You think these things are true. You worry this much and are insecure like him and he didn't even fucking realize. You're not crying yet but he is, silent tears falling down his cheeks as he lets you say what you need to. The slur to your voice almost makes it worse, makes it feel like you had to get this drunk to be able to tell him.

"Just tell me. What is it, Michael? Please tell me so for once I don't have to wonder why someone was better than me or enough when I wasn't." Your voice is going raw as your tears start to take over and you start to give into them.

"What can she give you that I can't? Why is she enough and I'm not?" Your voice breaks as the tears spill over and you start to cry. "Why am I never enough, Michael?"

You repeat the question over and over through your sobs as he steps to you and pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can without hurting you. "You are," he tells you through his own tears. "You are. You always have been and you always will be." Like you he says it on repeat.

He continues to tell you over and over as he slowly walks the two of you to your bed and gets you both on it and under the covers. You melt into him as he positions you on your sides, your words giving way to wracking sobs that almost feel a little screamed at times, muffled against Robby's chest. His words don't stop though. He keeps telling you, keeps trying to reassure you. He hopes he never has to hold you while you cry like this again because he hates you being in this much pain.

You haven't stopped crying by the time you're asleep, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you sleep curled into him.

You're not sure the morning really finds you any better. Your head is pounding and waking up curled into an already awake Robby with your head so perfectly tucked under his chin as he keeps his arms around you is hard because you're still scared of losing him and now you have the embarrassment and burden of last night to deal with. Because you remember questioning him right before you fell asleep, remember his tears and how unfair you were being.

When you finally acknowledge that you're awake Robby kisses you gently and suggests taking a shower together and talking. You agree and so you do. You explain how you felt yesterday, your jealousy and how it stems from your own insecurities that are so similar to his. You tell him the jealousy isn't the same as it was when you knew you weren't together, as real as that jealousy was. It was easier to play off and get over because he wasn't yours at the end of the day. And now he is and you know what you'll be missing if you lose him.

You tell him how you were scared, fucking terrified of losing him or not being enough or what he thought you'd be or him not wanting you. You admit you struggle to understand what he wants with you when he could have anyone he wants.

Robby apologizes for making light of your jealousy and for not realizing how much you struggled with insecurity too. He reassures you that you are the one he wants, that you're his best everything and that nobody is going to change that or make him want you less or not want to be with you, that nobody will replace you or be better than you because it's just not possible for someone to be better than you in any way. He tells you that, like you've told him and done for him so many times, you can ask him for reassurance whenever, as much as you need to, that he really does get it and won't take any sort of offense or get tired of giving it.

You're feeling better when you get out of the shower together. You're even laughing together at some ridiculous thing Robby just said and you teased him about. You don't feel 100% obviously because you have anxiety and something just happened between you and Robby so you're extra clingy, want to be near him and as close as possible, touching if preferable. You just need the reassurance until you can let this all go. Robby understands and he is so much more than happy to let you cling to him and be close and tell you that you guys are okay and perfect and good as many times as you need.

Once you're both dressed in comfy clothes, you head to the kitchen and Robby looks through your fridge, freezer and pantry to see what he can come up with. He has you sit on the counter next to him while he preps and cooks so you can be close.

"You know I'm mad at you, right?" He says it with a knowing smile so that you know he's not really mad at you per se. You already know what he's talking about and get how he's feeling. You'd feel the same way if he put himself in danger. You'd been wondering if he'd bring it up and were hoping you'd get away with not talking about it. Not so. You give him big puppy dog eyes.

"I’m mad at you for going out to a bar you'd never been to alone and getting 'fucking plastered,' as you called it, alone and then calling an uber and getting in it fucking plastered and alone without letting anyone know." His eyes are serious but so soft and he's not speaking down to you or being condescending. "You've seen the end of that story. You've seen what can happen, you've treated those patients, for all sorts of horrible things. I can't have Jack or Shen or whoever calling me to tell me you were just brought into the Pitt and it's bad."

"I know," you murmur. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I promise I'm not, and I'm not really mad, mad, just the thought of you out there alone on the street or in an alley or the back of the wrong guy's car, I just… I can't. And that's such a real possibility in the situation you were in. Nothing can happen to you, okay? I need you." Robby wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and moves so he's standing between your legs, hands resting on your thighs and squeezing gently. "You need a place to get shitfaced, you call Jack. You do it at his place. Or you at least let him go sit across the bar from you so he can make sure you're okay. Or you call me for that. I would've. I would've given you space and let you do your thing and just watched to make sure you were safe, okay?"

"Okay," you nod. "I'm sorry. I really am. I promise I won't do it again, I don't like making you worry." You finish but Robby knows there's more you want to say, knows what you want to ask and he wants you to. You rest your hands on top of his and play with his fingers a bit, a nervous habit. "We're okay, right?"

Robby smiles at you and nods, brings one of your hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of it and then the pads of your fingers. "More than, Kid." He keeps your hand in his but leans in and kisses you, lets you take control of it and whatever you need from him until you break apart and he looks you in the eyes again with that same soft smile. "We're all good and normal and perfect, I promise."

You and Robby have been talking about kids for a while now. At the beginning of the year you guys found your perfect house and bought it, and now after a couple of renovations you're completely moved in, settled and comfortable. It feels like home.

The last time you and Robby spoke about it a few months after your two year anniversary he left it up to you. He told you he was ready to start trying whenever you were. He's putting absolutely no pressure on you, isn't constantly bringing it up or pointing to cute baby things while you guys are out, but you know that he's feeling some time pressure.

You've been married for two and a half years and it feels right. And now that you've been in the house a while and are settled there, you feel ready. Or as ready as you're ever going to feel, you suppose. So that's how you find yourself coming back down to the Pitt from your OB to finish out the rest of your shift.

"Hey Robinavitch," you call to Robby as you walk toward the hub. He's sitting at one of the computers charting. "Catch."

Robby looks up at you and catches the specimen cup you've tossed at him. He looks at it and sees an IUD inside. It doesn't click. He's clearly quite confused when he looks up at you as you get closer. "What? Did you pull this out of somewhere crazy or…?"

You fight to keep the smirk off your face and are only half successful. "Check out the bottom of the cup." You'd conspired with your OBGYN friend and she'd put the label identifying the IUD as yours with the date of removal on the bottom of the specimen cup for you.

He watches you for a second as you pause at the hub, wondering if he's about to fall prey to some kind of joke or something. When he starts to turn the cup over you shoot him one last smile that has too much smirk to it and start walking away. Robby reads the date of removal, today, and then the name of the patient it was removed from. And that's your name. Your name.

Robby is frozen for a second. He knows what it means, what you're telling him. That you're ready to try for kids and had your IUD removed and aren't on birth control so the next time he comes in you he could possibly get you pregnant. It takes a second for it to really sink in.

But when it does, Robby is almost smashing the mouse to log out and pushing his chair away from the desk so fast it draws attention, as does him almost tripping over himself when he gets up and starts striding after you and calling your name and "Dr. Robinavitch." He's hard already, is going to have to take you here somewhere or he'll be hard the rest of the shift daydreaming about fucking you and coming in you raw and getting you pregnant and he won't be able to handle that. He can barely handle it as he runs after you.

"Yes, Dr. Robinavitch?" You stop walking and turn, give him a saccharine smile. "Something I can help you with?"

Robby huffs at you and half rolls his eyes, looking around desperately and trying to think of a room he can pull you into. "I need you to come upstairs with me," he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you off toward the elevator as you snicker.

"And why do you need that?" you ask him overly casually as you step on the elevator, Robby very deliberately positioning himself right behind you to hide himself.

"You know why," he mutters, leaning into you subtly so you can feel him against your ass. He just shakes his head at you while you giggle and walk forward when the elevator stops at the half empty floor. Once the elevator door shuts you start walking toward the empty side of the floor, Robby grabbing a blanket from one of the supply closets along the way. "I've told you a million times this is what would break me," he mutters once you're through the doors and in the dark hallway.

"What would? And break you how?" you giggle.

He huffs at you, pulling you into a patient room empty of everything other than an extra bed. "The ability to get you pregnant. And break me by making me have to fuck you at work." Robby turns and jams the door closed so it's somewhat locked how only someone who spends too much time in a hospital would know how to do. He pulls the curtain for more privacy and stalks toward you where you lean against the edge of the bed.

The stalking and the way he's looking at you so feral and primal has you shivering. You quickly realize you haven't seen much of anything when it comes to his breeding kink.

He's silent, staring at you with eyes you'd barely know are brown from how dilated they are as he pulls you by the hips against his and blindly gets the blanket spread out over the bed. "Need something?" you ask him breathily before biting your lip. "I've never napped mid shift before, but I'm not against it."

Robby hates how your coyness is working on him, how your pretending to be distracted and thinking about everything but him putting a baby in you is working him up in the best way. He sees the way your eyes glint in the low light of the cloudy day filtering in through the windows on the other side of the room. "It'll be somewhat of a personal insult if you're able to nap while I fuck a baby into you but I'm fine with it," he murmurs, something almost dangerous to his tone that has you feeling yourself grow wetter for him.

You can't respond, Robby leans in too quickly and starts kissing you, heavy and consuming from the very beginning, his tongue firm as it pushes into your quickly yielding mouth. Large hands find your hips and push you onto the edge of the bed, the bed low enough you barely have to press up on your toes to make it happen.

He'd make out with you forever if he had time, make this slow and drawn out, but he doesn't and neither do you. Once he's kissed you until you're laying with your back against the bed he pulls away, his hands going to the waistband of your pants and untying the draw string as you giggle.

He looks so hot like this, you're absolutely wired for him and craving him, can't stop running your eyes over his scrub-clad body while he works on pulling your pants and underwear all the way off. But you keep yourself acting a little spacey and focused on other things just to work him up a little more, the contrast stark to his seriousness and focus on you and fucking you and getting you pregnant.

"The scrubs are really fucking doing it for me right now, Dr. Robinavitch," you half whine as he steps back between your legs and leans across and over you to hit the button to bring the bed up a bit. It's still quite a bit lower than you thought he'd want it at though.

"I've fucked you with them on before." He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at you while his fingers work at the tie of his pants.

"Yeah, but it's different here at the hospital on a hospital bed." Your eyes stay focused on the waistband of his pants as you tell him, tongue darting out to lick your lips as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, just enough to free his already leaking cock. You smile to yourself and hum contentedly as you watch him wrap a hand around himself and stroke slowly, hear him let out his own groan as he looks down at you weeping and waiting for him. "I like knowing your cute little ass is out," you giggle as he steps closer to you and grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the bed.

"Yeah?" he breathes distractedly, eyes focused on your cunt as he runs his cock through you to get himself slick. Once he has himself where he wants he forces his eyes to yours, looks so feral and intent on claiming you in the most complete way possible it makes it hard to breathe. He starts to push inside of you. "You like knowing I'm about to fuck a baby into you?"

Your hands fly to wrap around his forearms down near your hips, the stretch of him with absolutely no prep and minimal foreplay stinging more than usual. You whine at it, arching your back a little as it turns into a moan. "No," you shake your head at him as he pulls out of you, Robby's eyebrows flying up, jaw clenching. He snaps his hips, fucking you harshly like you hoped he would. "I love it."

He huffs a laugh, eyes narrowing at you a little before dragging down you to watch himself slide in and out of you slowly, shuddering at how shiny he is with your arousal every time he pulls out. Robby presses himself back inside you and stills, smirks at the little look of confusion that crosses your face.

His hands move from your hips to grab your legs and throw them over his shoulders. "You," he says lowly, the most gravel in his voice you've ever heard. He shuffles himself forward so he's pressed right against you and the edge of the bed. The reason he has the bed lower clicks as he's able to damn near completely bend over you and press you into a tight mating press that lets him get deeper than you think you've ever felt him before and has you keening for him. Robby keeps his head pulled out of your neck for now so he can look at you. "You're going to just lay here and take it, okay? Lay here and look like the pretty girl you are and the beautiful mom I'm about to make you be and take it, take me and everything I give you, yeah?"

He pulls his hips back and snaps them back forward, pulling a mewl from you that just seems to make him even more feral.

"Michael, I…" You swear you're struggling to breathe with how good he's fucking you, with how deep he's getting with every thrust.

The pace he sets is fast and hard and disorienting from how deep he gets and how fucking good it feels. You swear you feel high, floating in a cloud of pleasure that takes over you more and more with every thrust and word that drips out of his mouth.

Because they do. Without thought almost. Over and over. Phrases repeated multiple times. "Need to fuck my baby in you, Sweetheart." "You're going to be such a good mom." "Gonna take it all for me and let me get you pregnant." "You're gonna look so beautiful all swollen with me." "Everyone will know you're mine, know how good I fucked you, know I put a baby in you." "Can't wait to watch you ride me while you're pregnant, play with your sensitive tits." "You want it don't you? Wanna carry my baby? Want me to get you pregnant? Wanna be claimed like this?"

Robby runs his mouth and says just about anything that crosses his mind because he's fucking out of it, he's losing it getting to fuck you like this, totally raw, the image of you telling him you're pregnant and growing with his baby too fucking much for him, the sounds you're making for him, that he's pulling from you as he fucks his baby into you too fucking good. It's primal, the way he fucks you and how much he needs this, needs to get you pregnant, and how good you feel. It just has him fucking you harder and faster so he can get there and fill you. "Mm, not gonna last," he nearly slurs against your neck. "Touch yourself."

He likes to be the one to make you come but he doesn't want to move to get his hand between you right now, he wants to keep this position, needs to, his brain tells him. He needs to keep fucking you this deep.

You do what he says, would follow any order he gave you right now and slip your hand between the two of you. Your fingers work your clit just enough to get you there, Robby's cock nailing your g-spot with each thrust getting you there even quicker.

"Michael!" you moan loudly when it finally crashes over you, lost to anything but him and how he feels as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. "Please, Baby, I need it, I need it," you start to babble through your pleasure, your hand leaving your clit and wrapping around his upper arm as much as it can, "need you to give me a baby, please, your baby, need it. Need you to get me pregnant with your baby."

"Fuck!" Robby shouts as his orgasm rips through him, your name following in a loud groan. He doesn't fuck himself through it like he normally does, wants to be and makes sure he is right at your cervix as he comes. "Oh," Robby groans, letting himself grind down against you as you clench around him intermittently while riding out the aftershocks of your own orgasm. "Fuck, Sweetheart."

He lets himself grind against you a little more just to get every possible drop of his cum right there at your cervix before he stills and pulls up enough to move your legs off his shoulders and then rests on top of you. Robby reaches for it blindly and finds the button, moves the bed up so it's taking his weight better and his legs don't have to be awkwardly bent now that he's still and half laying on top of you.

As you take a few moments with each other to recover and be close and whisper sweet nothings to each other through slowly recovering breaths, let your hands roam each other where they can and bask in each other and the warm glow of your love for each other, the reality of what you just did starts to sink in. And for some reason it makes you a little panicky because holy fuck he just came inside you with no birth control. You know it's extremely unlikely you'll get pregnant this first month, but still. It's possible. "Michael," you whisper. You sound as dazed and scared as you feel.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "We just did that. I just came inside of you with no protection." He lets out a quiet, huffed laugh. He sounds more together and less dazed than you. He sounds satisfied. Proud.

"I could get pregnant." A wave of slight nausea passes over you at the thought. It's not that you don't want it, you do, you absolutely do. It's just scary to think about in a way, what that really means, being a mom and responsible for a small human. A million thoughts suddenly run through your mind.

But when Robby pulls off you enough to look down at you with a huge lopsided smile and bright, excited eyes sparkling at the prospect, when he looks at you like you're everything, his everything and like he already has even more of an urge to take care of you and protect you because he loves you so fucking much, most of your fear and anxiety slip away. Just from the way he's looking at you.

"We might've just made a baby," he says quietly, grinning and giving you a slight nod.

You stare at him for a moment, the two of you communicating even more with your eyes and expressions and touches. "Holy shit," you finally laugh, still a bit dazed.

It makes Robby start laughing properly which makes you start laughing properly. He leans down and nuzzles his nose against yours as your laughter continues to mix in the room, both of you flying high with excitement and joy and happiness and a sense of peace that you're finally here at this point of your life together, that you made it here together.

"Love you, Kid," Robby murmurs against your lips.

"Love you more, Michael," you murmur back.

You walk outside into the ambulance bay hoping that the cold and crisp January air will help settle your stomach and wake you up some. You've been feeling like this, nauseous and exhausted, for a while now but haven't put much thought to it. Today's the first day it was bad enough that you had to pretend to eat breakfast. The smell alone had you swallowing down dry heaves.

The air doesn't work and you're leaning over the trash can to be sick as you hear the doors open. God you really fucking hope it isn't Robby. You don't want to have to try and explain to him why you can stay and don't need to go home.

"You okay?" Dana calls to you as you hear her walk up behind you.

You let out a little breath of relief and spit a couple more times before leaning back up and looking at her. "Yeah, must have been something I ate or, I don't know… Something going around."

The smirk that pulls onto her face confuses you. "You and Robby trying?" she asks just loud enough for you to hear.

Her words hit you harder than the sudden gust of icy wind. "Oh my god," you mumble. It's been a couple months since you started trying but how could you have missed that? Extreme exhaustion and nausea while you're actively trying to conceive? It's so obvious now that she's said it. "Oh my god," you repeat, looking at her this time.

Dana laughs softly. "You want me to draw some blood for you?"

"I…" You don't know. You don't even fucking know. But you do know. You know you're pregnant. Your hand drops automatically and rests over your womb, your mind spinning as you realize your and Robby's baby is growing inside you. "Probably, yeah."

You fidget again as you sit leaning into Robby a little less so than usual while you guys relax on the couch in the cabin. He doesn't like it. It's not like you. Something's been off with you all day but whenever he asks you reassure him you're okay. He saw you with Dana several times today, easily picked up on how spacey you were. Then you'd come up to him halfway through your shift and asked if he wanted to go up to the cabin tonight after work, if he was up for the drive, you just thought it would be nice since you have a few days off together. And now you look like there's something you need to tell him or say to him but you're scared to.

You glance over at him for the umpteenth time tonight, and not the glances you both give each other at times, just to admire the other. These are short, almost frenetic in some way. He knows you're not, or at least he's pretty sure you're not, but it almost feels like you're about to tell him you're seriously ill or want a divorce or something bad.

He can't take it anymore.

"Will you please tell me what's up?" He shifts on the couch so he can look at you better. "I'm worried, Kid."

Your face falls and he hates it. He didn't want that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry," you murmur.

"It's okay," he says softly, his voice dripping in that reassurance only he can give you. "Just talk to me, yeah?"

You nod. "I um, I got you something. A surprise. I thought I'd be able to hide it better," you laugh softly.

"You got me something?" He gives you a small smile and mentally runs through dates. He hasn't missed anything. "Why?"

"Just because." You shrug. Your smile is a unique blend of nerves and happiness, one Robby's not sure he's ever seen before. "It's nothing big, don't get too excited. I'll, um, I'll go get it." You force yourself off the couch and head into the bedroom to retrieve the random gift bag you'd found in the closet when you searched as you guys packed.

You are so fucking happy and excited and you can't wait to see his reaction but the nerves are still there, like you don't know how fucking thrilled Robby's going to be, how much he's going to cry.

Clearly you're showing something on your face because when you step back out into the living room and pause for a second halfway to him, Robby's off the couch quickly and meeting you, holding his arms out for you if you need him. "Kid, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay." You'll never turn down the opportunity to be in his arms, though, so you fully lean into him and nuzzle your face against his chest, arms wrapping around his middle, the small bag brushing against his back.

Robby chuckles at you and how cute your reaction is. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close, leans down and kisses the top of your head. "You sure?" he murmurs, still a little skeptical.

"Yeah," you sigh. "I promise. Just nervous."

That pulls another laugh from him. "About giving me a gift?"

You nod against him. "It's… It'll make sense, I think."

Robby is trying to think of what it could possibly be as you pull away from him and offer him the bag. "Here." He takes the bag from you and holds your gaze for a moment. "I love you Michael."

"I love you too, Kid," Robby nods, a touch confused. He reaches in and pulls out something that feels vaguely rectangular and is wrapped in tissue paper. As he unwraps it sticks he'd recognize anywhere come into view, because of course you had to run across the street at some point during the day because you wanted the traditional looking tests to tell him with. Each one shows a dark positive result, a paper with the blood test results behind them.

All of the air leaves his lungs at once as what he's looking at processes, positive pregnancy tests and a positive blood test. The tears form in his eyes immediately. He looks up at you and tilts his head slightly in question, lips quivering a little already. "Is this… Are these… yours?" He takes in a shuddery breath, fighting back tears until he hears you say it. Hears you confirm it. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yeah," you say breathlessly, nodding with tears in your eyes and a soft smile. "I'm pregnant Michael."

Robby takes in a sharp breath as the tears start to fall. "You're pregnant? Really?" His chin trembles hard, a million thoughts in his mind but sheer joy and love coursing through him. "With my baby? Our baby?"

You laugh through your tears at that. It's so Robby of him. "Who else's baby would I be pregnant with, you absolute dork?"

"I don't, I don't know! I don't know! I just, just…" He trails off into laughter with you, shoving the tests back into the bag and letting it drop to the floor. "You're pregnant!" Robby starts crying harder, takes your face in his hands. "I'm going to be a dad, you're making me a dad. You're making a little piece of our love. We're having a baby!" He sniffles a laugh and kisses you before hugging you as tight as he can without hurting you. "I love you. I love you so fucking much Kid. Thank you." He can't stop talking, can't stop telling you he loves you and is so fucking excited and thank you. "I love you. I can't believe you're pregnant. I've wanted this with you for so long, I love you so much and I love our baby so much."

An hour later or so both of you have calmed down and you're relaxing on the couch again. You have your legs out in front of you and resting on the ottoman, Robby laying across the couch with his head in your lap.

"You can tell Jack," you murmur to him as you continue to run your hand through his hair. He's holding onto the one closest to him, switching between playing with your fingers and bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss as the mood strikes him.

He hums. "I know you want to wait until you're out of the first trimester."

"Yeah but Jack doesn't count. He's… Jack. He's like an extension of your brain." The two of you laugh a little at that. "If something does happen I wouldn't care if he knew. You'd need him. Someone to talk to."

"I have you." He kisses your palm.

You give him a look when he brings his eyes back up to yours. "You know what I mean."

"I think it's going to end up being a moot point anyway because I think this little one is sticky." He leans in and kisses over your womb again. He's been doing it constantly, just like he's been talking to them constantly as you guys chat and dream and imagine what they'll be like and think of all the things you need to do and get and just relax together in your excitement. "And I think they're probably very comfortable in there, aren't you? Because mom's giving them such a good home and is the best." You hum in response and there's a beat of silence as Robby kisses your hand again, smiling to himself at his life. He can't fucking believe this is his life.

And then a thought occurs to him. "Imagine if it's twins."

"Ha!" you blurt out a laugh. "Don't even speak it into the universe, Michael."

Robby chuckles. "I think it's already decided at this point." You grumble at him a little and he shrugs his top shoulder. "I'm just saying things like to happen to you twice."

"Yeah," you nod matter-of-factly. "Two kids, two pregnancies."

Robby hums in thought. "That could work. Though… Irish twins. That would almost fit better with the pattern, things happening in rapid succession."

"Oh, Michael," you draw out each word in a low laugh. "Way to guarantee we're not having sex again after this one's born until they're a year old."

Robby chuckles into you and pushes his head against your hand for a second before he leans up and kisses you, ready to take you to bed. He knows you must be even more exhausted with the pregnancy. "We're having a baby," he murmurs against your lips.

"Yeah," you murmur back against his, giving him a soft kiss. You know he's about to suggest going to bed and you're not at all against the idea of getting to feel his skin against yours, getting to feel his hand splayed protectively across your womb. "We're having a baby."

You and Robby step onto the roof together, both of you glad to see Jack leaning against the guard rail on the right side, his eyes closed and head tilting back, obviously using the sharp winter air to help ground him.

"You're not allowed to jump. Or get pneumonia and die," Robby calls to him as you walk up.

Jack brings his head down and looks at you both, rolling his eyes at Robby slightly before he closes them again and tips his head back like he was. "I'm on the right side and you're still harassing me. And I'm not going to get pneumonia from standing in the cold air for five or ten minutes."

This time it's Robby who rolls his eyes as you stop in front of Jack. "Okay," Robby drawls, "you better not because I'm gonna need you to help me figure out this whole fatherhood thing."

You both see the words hit Jack, his body stiffening slightly as they fully sink in. "And your niece or nephew is going to need you, too, Uncle Jack," you add gently.

Jack brings his head back down and opens his eyes quickly, eyes looking back and forth between you and Robby. "You're serious?"

You and Robby laugh, Robby nodding as you speak. "Have the morning sickness to prove it." The smile you give Jack has something of a teasing smirk to it.

"Holy shit!" he laughs, a little dazed. "Congratulations!"

Jack hugs Robby first and you wear a sappy smile as you watch the two of them. "I'm so fucking happy for you brother," he tells Robby lowly, cupping the back of Robby's head just like he did when he congratulated you guys on your engagement. "You're already a great dad."

Robby swallows hard but nods as Jack pulls away, the two sharing a beat of eye contact before Jack turns to you. He smiles and laughs as he wraps you in a hug. "You're already a great mom," he murmurs. "I'm so excited for you. I'm so glad you made it here."

You laugh softly. "Thank you, Jack. We're really excited too." Jack goes to pull away but you keep him in the hug a second longer. "He meant it, you know. About needing you."

"I know," Jack whispers before pulling out of the hug. He looks at the two of you and laughs again, clearly still in some shock even though you know Robby told him you guys were trying. "Fuck, this is… wow." The three of you laugh together, Jack shaking his head a little. "A niece or nephew running around to spoil. I… I can't wait."

Your pregnancy is largely uneventful. You guys decide early on that you don't want to know the gender until you give birth. Robby nearly sobs the first time he's able to feel the baby kick. You really starting to show and the second trimester libido you'd both heard so much about are two of the greatest fucking things to ever happen to Robby and his breeding kink. He just about loses his mind the first time you steal one of his scrub tops to wear to fit your bump, loves watching it get more and more fitted as you and baby grow. Robby talks to the baby all the time, showers your bump in kisses. His favorite game becomes pressing a firm kiss to your bump wherever the baby kicks to get them to kick again. He becomes more and more protective as you get further along, nearly irritatingly so in some moments, treating you like you're glass.

There's a discussion about how far into your pregnancy you should work. You want to work up until you give birth to maximize your time off with the baby. Robby doesn't like the thought of that for what feels like a million reasons. In the end you get him to come around when you ask whether he'd have you here where he can see you and keep an eye on you or at home alone while he's working. 

You and Robby paint the nursery and you sit in a rocking chair in the nursery rubbing your bump as Robby builds the crib, playfully bickering over names for a little girl. Your Pitt family throws you guys the cutest baby shower, absolutely spoiling Baby Robinavitch, though it's nothing in comparison to the way Uncle Jack is already spoiling them. As you get closer to the end of your pregnancy the betting board gets covered in post-it note bets on whether it'll be a girl or a boy and what their name will be.

Your due date was two days ago and yet you still find yourself at work this morning, pregnant, exhausted, hurting everywhere and so ready to meet your baby and not be pregnant anymore as much as you've loved it. It seems unfathomable to you that it's only nine. It feels like you've been here for at least eight hours.

You've been contracting for a good while now but nothing super consistent or overly painful. Certainly nothing indicating true labor. You think. You've never done this before. They don't feel like the Braxton-Hicks you'd been having but their timing is all over the place.

You're standing at one of the charting stations because you know you need to keep moving once you've finished these notes and that if you sit down you'll struggle to make yourself get back up. You wince when another contraction hits, closing your eyes and trying to breathe through it, your face not too screwed up in pain. You lean against the counter and rock side to side, something you've found to be helpful.

Robby walks out of a nearby patient room laughing and it pushes a button for you even though you can't see him. Because he gets to be laughing and distracting himself and having fun while you're fucking miserable. You don't want to bring him down or have him be miserable of course, and you know that at least a little bit of it is a front he’s putting on, but you want… something. Your inability to figure out what that something is just adds to your frustration.

You really need him to just stay away from you through this contraction so you can have a moment to yourself and go get some air or something to reset and lose the attitude you know you'll have if anyone talks to you right now. Robby sees you though. He's always looking for you now, he did before you were pregnant but not quite as intensely. Anxiety spikes through him when he sees you with your eyes closed and face reflecting some pain while you lean and rock.

"Hey," the alarm is clear in his voice as he gets to you, rests his hand on one of the lower sides of your bump and feels your muscles start to relax as the contraction passes. "Are you okay? Is something wrong? More contractions? Are they cyclical now?"

"No," you sigh, opening your eyes. Robby's attempted hidden sigh of relief doesn't escape your notice and just furthers your frustration. You try to breathe through it, knowing that you're way quicker to snap these days and that your frustration crying has gotten even worse. You can already feel the very beginnings of tears. "They're just there, no pattern, timing all over the place and fucking painful."

"I'm sorry, Kid." He gives you a small frown. He really does hate seeing you in pain and so uncomfortable, wishes he could take it on for you. He would in a heartbeat.

His hand lingers on your bump and you swear it's because he's trying to feel if you contract again. It makes you feel like he doesn't trust you or think you're capable of knowing when you're in labor or not a good enough mom or something, an insecurity you know you're totally projecting.

"I'm not in labor, Robby!" It's verging on snapped at him. "I will obviously let you know the second I even think I am, and if I wanted to get checked to see I'm in a hospital full of lots of doctors I'd trust to check and tell me."

"Like me?" He gives you a small smile and raises his eyebrows at you, trying to keep it light, get you to smile.

"No," you sigh. You've had this conversation too many times before and you're too tired and in pain and over it all to catch Robby's teasing tone. "Because you're not a doctor when it comes to me or the baby. You're my husband and their dad. It's going to have to be a fucking emergency or I'm going to have to be totally fucking desperate to let you check me."

"I know," Robby murmurs. Your words sting a little but not really at all at the same time. He knows where they're coming from, how frustrated you are, how emotional and hormonal, how tired and in pain you are all the time and how difficult it is for you to get any sleep. He knows those words aren't really you and that he can't take them personally.

You wince and lean forward just slightly as you receive a sharp kick to the ribs, lose your breath a little and take in a heavy breath of air.

"What's up?" Worry permeates his voice.

"Your kid kicked me in the ribs. Again." You rub near where you were kicked and let out a long breath. Robby looks at you expectantly, like he thinks there's more you want or need to tell him. But there's not, so it just feels like he's doubting and not trusting you again. "Your kid kicked me in the ribs, Michael! I'm tired, I don't feel particularly great because I'm over 40 weeks pregnant, everything fucking hurts, I get breathless walking twenty feet. It's just being over 40 weeks pregnant. That's what's up."

His frown returns. He really does wish he could make you feel better. "Do you need anything?"

You let out a sardonic laugh, speak without thinking. "I need so many fucking things, Michael, none of which you can get or do for me right now, honestly, but thank you."

He comes close to flinching at that, your words getting a little cutting despite him knowing he can't take them personally. You know it and can see it on his face and you feel bad immediately. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "Can I do anything for you?"

You don't know what it is. He doesn't say it in any type of way, doesn't look like a sad puppy, just like a concerned and worried husband and father who would genuinely do anything you asked of him right now. There's nothing wrong with what he says or how he says it and you know it's genuine and you understand. You get why this is so incredibly and extra hard for him right now. You truly, truly do.

But for some reason it pushes you over some ledge you were unknowingly standing on and you snap a little anyway. "You know what you could fucking do for me, Michael?" Tears line your eyes as you speak, because you feel bad for being like this, because you're so frustrated with what feels like everything and everyone. Because you're exhausted and hormonal and extra emotional and hurting and feeling out of control.

Because you're totally overstimulated and overwhelmed.

"You could stop fucking praying that I'll stay pregnant for at least another two days. Because I know you fucking are." You're almost glaring at him. "Do you seriously think that your little sigh of relief when I just told you I'm not in labor escaped me? Cause it sure fucking didn't. So I know that you know how miserable and exhausted and uncomfortable I am and how much pain I'm in and are still fucking praying and hoping and wishing that I'll continue to be for another two days."

The tears spill down your cheeks as you stare at him, chest heaving slightly. "That is what you can fucking do for me. And you could fucking trust me, trust me that I'll know when I'm in active labor and need to go to L&D and that I'll know if something is wrong."

You sniffle, just seem to want to cry harder from your frustration and how bad you feel for being like this to him and how you can't seem to stop. "You could not be wishing me discomfort and pain and misery, or at least try to hide that you are and that you're happy I'm still in all of that."

You finally turn and walk away from him and into the supply closet to take a minute or two to yourself. But the second you get the door closed you end up in proper sobs over what feels like absolutely everything, make it to the chair you'd stashed in here a few months ago for when you need a minute sitting down to yourself.

You cry for yourself and how miserable you feel, how scared you are yourself, how hard it is for you too, and how overwhelmed and overstimulated you feel all the fucking time. You cry because you feel awful about how you just spoke to him and treated him. You hate yourself for it, think about how scared Robby must feel right now, how much overwhelming anxiety he must have because you both know how dangerous birth can be and because it's not something he can control. And so now you’re crying because you’re sad about Robby hurting so badly and deeply and having hurt him yourself. 

Robby's eyes track you as you walk to the supply closet, his frown deepening. He feels fucking awful because you're right. He is praying and wishing and hoping you'll stay pregnant another two days. Of course he doesn't want you to be miserable or in pain or uncomfortable or any of that, and he's not praying for that, but he gets it. He gets why it feels like he is. Because in a sense, yeah, he is. He knows that staying pregnant means you'll continue to feel how you do and yet he's still praying for his own selfish reasons.

He gives you a couple of minutes to yourself before walking over and knocking on the supply closet door and then opening it. The sound of your sobs breaks his heart. "Can I come in?" he asks softly as he steps inside and closes the door behind him. He'll leave if you want him to.

"Yes please," you hiccup, your voice so sad and defeated and down that it physically pains him as he walks toward you.

"Kid," he murmurs softly as you come into view looking as upset as you sound. His heart aches for you. He knows just by looking at you and the way you said 'yes please' that you're mostly crying because you feel bad about what just happened. "Baby, don't cry. Not over this. It's okay, I promise."

"It's not okay, I'm sorry," you whimper as he walks closer, sniffling as your eyes close and you start crying more. "I'm so sorry, Michael. That was all so uncalled for and I, and I know. I know it's so hard for you and that I was so mean and wrong and I'm, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that and been a bitch for no reason."

"Hey," he kneels down in front of you despite the way it makes his knees scream. "Don't talk about yourself like that please. I accept your apology and forgive you, Kid. I know it's frustration and irritability from hurting and being exhausted and everything else. I know it's not personal."

"It doesn't matter," you continue to sob. "I still said what I did. Even knowing, knowing how hard this is for, for you. I just think about you so scared and, and anxious and feeling alone and sad and I hate it and then I add in what I did and how I made it worse, worse, and made you, probably am constantly making you feel more alone and I hate it. I don't want you to feel that way." You take in a big shuddery breath. "I don't want to make you feel that way. It makes me so, so sad to think about you feeling like that, I don't want it, Michael. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sweetheart, I promise you that you don't make me feel that way." Robby brings one of his hands to your face and wipes away some of your tears even though he knows they'll be immediately replaced. "You don't make me feel scared or anxious or sad, Baby. I'm not sad. I'm anxious and scared, yeah, but that isn't because of you, it isn't you making me feel that way it's just life. And the last thing I feel is alone. I know I can come to you with anything, even now." His free hand squeezes one of your thighs gently. "I know that if I had a panic attack on you while you were in the middle of labor you'd be there for me just like you always are. I know that. You got overwhelmed and overstimulated and you snapped. You walked away for some air and then as soon as you saw me again you apologized."

His words start to get through to you some, and your tears slow. You put both hands on top of his one on your thigh and play with his fingers to help calm yourself. "I'm glad you know," you whisper, voice raw. It gets better once you clear your throat. "I am sorry though. I shouldn't have snapped."

Robby finishes wiping away your tears and helping clean your face and smiles at you. "I know you are and I accept your apology and we're okay and everything is okay, I promise."

You shrug. Normally it would take you a couple of hours to get over something like this and feel better and be able to accept things are okay, but it's gotten harder, especially recently. You know you're going to be extra clingy for a good while. "I'm gonna be really clingy."

He laughs softly. "I know," he nods, "and I'm more than okay with that, Kid. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Michael." You manage to give him a small smile and he returns it with a big one, happy to see you smiling again. He leans in and you share a few kisses. "If, I mean hopefully it will be a moot point in the end and I'll stay pregnant for a bit yet, but if something did happen and you really did need to panic or talk while I was in labor it would be okay."

Robby nods. "I know, and we'll cross that bridge if and when we get to it, okay?"

You nod and give him another kiss when he leans in for one last one before standing up. "I don't want to get up," you sigh deeply.

"Then don't," he shrugs. He knows Dana will come get you guys if you're really needed, knows that she saw him walk in here after you. "Here, let me do this for a few minutes and then we'll go back out." He walks so he's behind you and then his large warm hands are massaging your neck and shoulders and the moan you let out at how good it feels is actually a touch erotic. "Yeah?" he chuckles.

"God, yeah," you sigh, fluttering your eyes closed so you can focus on the feeling. After a minute or so a particularly sharp contraction hits, one that feels different from all of the other ones, almost more stabbing. You lean forward a little and make a slight noise of pain and Robby already knows it's different, that it's worse, and that puts him on edge.

"You okay?" he asks lightly. He doesn't want to annoy you by asking but it's so hard for him to see you in pain and do nothing.

You open your mouth to answer but feel a rush of liquid and your pants grow wet. That combined with the different sharper pain you just felt makes your heart rate skyrocket. You bring your hand to your pants and touch them, hold it up a bit expecting to see blood. But there's none and you calm just slightly for a few seconds before you realize what it really means.

"Michael," you whisper. Your breathing changes, fear edging into your tone. Robby stiffens at it, his hands stilling. "I think my water just broke. At least, at least a little."

"Seriously?" He walks back around so he's in front of you and turns the light on and sure enough your pants are wet and when you stand a bit more rushes out and onto the floor. "Okay," he draws the word out. "Okay."

You'd just managed to get yourself calm but you can feel the emotions all coming back because you're going into labor on him now and you just spoke to him how you did and what if something happens and what if, what if, what if. Robby can sense it but you still speak before he can. "I'm so sorry, Michael. I'm so sorry for what I said and how I treated you, I'm sorry. And, and I'm sorry for going into labor now and I know it's going to be so hard for you and I'm sorry, I really am."

"Hey, hey, hey," he's quick to soothe you, can hear the tears starting to form in your voice. "It's okay. I already accepted your apology and we're okay, I promise. And you can't apologize for going into labor, Kid, you can't really control that. Plus maybe you technically aren't yet." You shake your head at him. You are. You just know it instinctually. And so does Robby, even if he doesn’t want it to be true. "Okay, so you are. It's going to be okay and I'll, you know, I'll be okay. And you'll be okay. And the baby’ll be okay and we’re going to walk out of here as a family of three."

You're still a bit panicky as you look at him, totally mentally thrown by the series of events. "I'm scared, Michael," you admit quietly.

"Yeah," he smiles softly at you, "I am too. But it would be weird if we weren't I think. We've got each other and I've got you while you do this, okay? Whatever you want or need I'm there, I'm getting it, I'm doing it. Let's take it one step at a time though and get upstairs and you checked out."

"Okay," you whisper and nod at him, trying to keep it together.

"This closet is really fucking important to us, isn't it?" Robby jokes, trying to pull a smile and hopefully a laugh from you. "We should've tried to conceive here."

It works and you laugh, shaking your head at him. It's perfect and just what you needed to help bring you back to yourself. "Thank you." You smile at him and push your lips out for a quick kiss that he happily gives you.

Robby goes and grabs a wheelchair while explaining to Dana what's going on. She says she'll make sure everything gets cleaned up in the closet and call in another attending, grabs the hospital bag you've had stashed in your locker for a while now for the two of you to take with you as Robby gets you in the wheelchair sitting on the chux pad you found in the closet.

You get upstairs and checked, are pronounced to be in labor and get admitted. Robby is, unsurprisingly, amazing as the hours pass and the contractions grow stronger if not closer together. He walks around and around and around the unit with you, helps support you when you need it mid-walk. He whispers encouragement and reminders of how strong you are any time you start to doubt yourself.

And it's good. He needs it. Especially because things are slow to progress in your dilation and it gets later in the day. Helping you, focusing on you is good for him. It takes his mind off everything.

Toward the very end of the night you're still pretty far away from being fully dilated, but your contractions are much stronger and closer together now. You have yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, Robby right in front of you, and have your arms around his neck leaning into him in between contractions. It's the most comfortable position for you right now for whatever reason, though you're sure that'll pass soon.

As you rest your forehead against him Robby's eyes move back to the clock and he watches the last seconds of the day slip by.

The clock ticks to midnight and now it's that day. The day that Adamson died. The day that Leah died. The day you were attacked and he almost lost you.

The worst day of his life.

It's the worst day of his life and you're in labor and there's you and the baby to lose now, and the feeling, it consumes him, settles heavy in his chest and stomach, sears and imprints itself along every neuron so he couldn't get it out of his head if he tried.

The feeling that he's about to learn what the worst day of his life really looks like. 

Robby doesn't even bother going to the roof tonight. It's too much work. You're not on today. Neither is Dana or Jack. It's just him at this godforsaken place today, which in some ways he's glad for. Because it means none of you had to deal with what today was.

He feels useless. It's not even that the cases were super medically challenging or hit particularly close to home or anything like that. It's just been a long time since he's lost this many patients in one day and it got to him. It was all so senseless.

It felt like a day of watching the universe tell family after family, fuck you.

But maybe there's some projection there as the anniversary of Adamson's death grows closer. Accidents happen. People are victims of crime. The human body malfunctions.

Robby feels like has no fucking right to feel this way, to be this upset and shaken about it. He didn't lose anyone. He's going to go home to you and you're going to be you and help him get through this. You'll know what to say and what to do and what he needs to hear. You'll tell him he's not useless and he has every right to feel how he does. You won't fix it because that's not possible. But you'll make it better. Make him feel better.

He calls you as he walks out of the hospital, wants to see if you want him to pick something up for dinner. He's way beyond having the capacity to cook and hasn't eaten all day, of course. It takes you a few rings to pick up which is a little odd but also not really. Your phone frequently ends up buried among throw pillows or left in the kitchen or something along those lines so that it takes you a couple of rings to answer.

"Hi Baby!" you greet him cheerfully when you do pick up. The happiness in your voice at getting to talk to him is clear despite how loud the background noise is. "Hold on just a second, let me step outside, it's way too loud in here." You step out of the bar onto the street and let him know. "Okay, hopefully this is better. Hi again!"

"Hi Kid." Robby's stomach is already sinking because you're out. You're not at home waiting for him. And he knows that's selfish but he can't help it. "Where are you?"

"We're at that new bar on Fourth Avenue. It's girls' night, remember?" You say it so bubbly, clearly just starting to feel the effects of the couple of overpriced cocktails you must've had by now.

Fuck. He forgot about girls' night. The one night every other month or so that you and some of your friends manage to all have off or get the night free. The planning can be painstaking. And this is the first one since you became an attending a month or so ago. He can't ruin it for you.

"Oh, that's right. I did forget actually, but good. I'm glad you're out having fun. I was um," Robby takes a second to clear his throat to try and keep the strain and emotion out of his voice. "I was just walking home from work and wanted to check in on you. I'll let you get back inside to the girls, okay?"

Despite his attempt to hide it you can hear it in his voice, can almost feel his tension through the phone. Something must've happened. "Are you okay, Michael? I can come home."

"No!" Robby's quick to say. He doesn't want to fuck this up for you just because he's being dramatic and sad or whatever the fuck it is he's feeling. "No, I'm…" He's not going to lie to you. "You don't need to come home, I'll just uh, grab something on my walk home and see you if you come here tonight to sleep, okay?"

"Okay. I was planning on going home to you, yeah, so I'll see you if you're still awake but don't feel like you need to stay up." You bite your bottom lip, unsure about all of this. "And Michael, call me if you need me, okay?"

"I will, but you just focus there and have fun. I'll see you later, Kid. Enjoy your night. Bye." He waits for you to say goodbye back and then hangs up, sighing and running a hand through his hair. It's fine. It'll be fine. This is for the best anyway. He can just bottle up his feelings and put them on a shelf in his brain somewhere with all the other bottles. He doesn't have to burden you with all this. With him.

You hang up but hesitate for a minute outside, chewing on your lip. Something's wrong. He needs you. That's why he called. He just didn't want to ruin the night for you. You know he said to stay and enjoy yourself and that he genuinely means it but it's hard to even consider doing so. This situation feels like the night you had that really bad day and had told him to enjoy his time with Jack watching the game, only he called you so you could hear it in his voice where you'd only texted him. As you open the door to go back into the bar you get mad at yourself for even having to think about whether to stay or go to him.

Robby doesn't end up getting food on his way home even though he knows it'll help and he really should eat. He doesn't shower or change or get into bed. He doesn't turn any lights on. Instead he takes his shoes off and sets his backpack down and walks over to his couch and sits, leans back until his head hits the back of the couch and stares blankly at the ceiling in the dark. He's not sure if he's feeling anything or truly thinking about anything. All he knows is that he's existing, lost to the world spaced out on his couch, vaguely shaking from how low his blood sugar must be.

Robby is as surprised to hear a key in the door after only twenty minutes as you are to find the lights off when you open the door. You furrow your eyebrows. Maybe he really did stop to get something to eat and you beat him home. "Michael?" you call out as you lock the door behind you and turn on a light.

"What are you doing here?" Maybe it's been longer than twenty minutes and he just hasn't realized it. But you have a bag of takeout with you and a glance at his watch confirms it's only been a bit over twenty minutes or so since he's gotten home.

"You need me," you tell him simply as you kick your shoes off and start to walk toward him. "Got your favorite," you wink, setting the food on the coffee table for a moment and then leaning down to kiss him on the couch.

As your lips meet Robby's hands find your hips and pull you onto his lap. "You left early?" he mumbles against your cheek as you settle on him.

"A little, yeah."

Even though he knew you did, the confirmation still makes his stomach twist. What if you start to resent him? Or feel like he's too needy? The last time you needed him he wasn't there, he didn't leave or have Jack leave. He didn't call you after you texted him and he should've, he should've known something was off. He's just taking. Taking and taking.

"Hey," you say softly, scratching the bottom of his chin through his beard. "You didn't ask me to leave. You told me to stay. I chose to come home and see you."

"Still. You left because of me," he whispers. He knows he should encourage you to return to the bar but he really doesn't want you to.

"Not because of," you remind him softly, kissing his forehead. "For you. And for you is different than because of you. I did it for me too, I missed you today."

Robby gives you a small, exhausted smile. "You're not going to convince me. At least not tonight."

You return his smile and hum. "I know."

His shoulders and neck start to relax the longer he's in your presence, feeling you in his lap and breathing you in. "I said I was going to get food."

"I knew you wouldn't." You run your fingers from under his chin through his beard and up through his hair. "You wanna talk now?"

"Should probably eat before talking if that's okay. Haven't all day," he admits in a mumble.

"I figured," you murmur. You don't chide him, he doesn't need that right now. He's down and vulnerable and it would just make him clam up and frankly you do the same shit all the time. You slip off his lap and stand, pull the coffee table a bit closer to the couch.

As you pull the food out of the bag you start to chatter at him knowing silence will send him deeper into his head but that he's not really able to talk right now. You're glad to see him actually eating and not just picking at his food and moving it around in the container.

Once you've both finished eating and you've cleaned up the trash you return to Robby, standing in front of him as he opens his legs for you. "What are you thinking now, Handsome?" He brings his forehead to rest against your tummy, his hands on your hips. "Shower? Talk? Bed?"

"Shower. I need to scrub the day off me." Robby's fingers trail down your hips and dip under your shirt to feel your skin. "Join me?"

"You never have to ask," you nod, smiling down at him. "Let's go."

You take a small step back and hold out your hand for him. Robby lets his hands fall from your hips and takes the hand you're offering and follows you back to the en suite. You turn the shower on before moving to stand across from Robby, pretty confident in your guess at what he'd like.

Big brown eyes find yours, questioning you silently. The corners of his lips twitch upward when you nod and step closer to him. Robby's hands find the hem of your shirt and pull it up over your head. Normally you'd reach for his shirt, tease him about things staying even. But tonight you don't, you let him completely strip you before reaching for his scrub top and undershirt and then his pants and boxer briefs.

He steps into the shower first, quickly getting his body and hair wet and then holding his hand out to help you in. You take it and step into the shower and under the stream of water briefly, getting yourself wet and then leaning into Robby to see what he wants to do, whether he wants to talk here or just shower and get out and talk in bed.

He's debating in his head what he wants, where he wants to talk. If he wants to talk. He's trying so hard not to clam up about it and just shut down. He doesn't have to do that anymore, doesn't have to repress and compartmentalize and ignore everything. He has you. He can talk to you.

"I can wash you if you want," he offers quietly, running his hand up and down your back.

As much as he's asking you, both of you know it's not really an ask. He needs this. So you let him, of course. You always will. And you love it too, love his hands all over you. "I'd love that," you murmur, kissing his chest and then stepping away from him.

The shower is quiet as Robby focuses on washing you and then on the feeling of you washing his hair and body. He dries himself with a towel quickly and wraps it low around his hips before helping you out of the shower and wrapping you up in your towel.

Once you're both dry and ready for bed you slide into it naked. Robby lays on his back, propped up a bit by some pillows. You lay next to him on your side, your body pressed against his, one hand helping support your head and the other rubbing his chest and tummy as he starts to talk to you and wraps his arm around you, his hand resting against your hip.

"Today was, I don't know, it was just… I couldn't do any good. I didn't do any good today." You don't say anything and he appreciates the way you don't try to tell him yes he did. "We lost a lot today. And it just…" he whispers, pausing to try to find the words. "It felt… senseless, I guess. I don't know how to describe it. Unexpected, for them and for their families. I mean one moment their day is fine and the next their entire world is upended and there was just nothing we could fucking do. Nothing I could do." Robby huffs. "Except for say sorry. That's all I could do, say I'm sorry and hand them over to Kiara."

You give him a minute to see if he needs to say anything else, keep running your hand over his skin soothingly. "I just," Robby cringes at how shaky his voice is. He never used to be like this, never used to get upset or cry or talk about anything. That's changed a little since he's been with you because you're the first romantic partner he's had that's ever given him space to be like this, that's encouraged him to let it out and talk to you. "How do you survive that? Losing someone you love completely out of the blue."

A few tears fall from his eyes and he sighs deeply and shakes his head, starts to bring the hand that isn't on your hip up to wipe the tears but you beat him to it, delicately brushing them away. It makes him cry even harder because now he's thinking about what it would be like losing you completely out of the blue one day. How would he ever survive that? The pain and suffering that just thinking about it brings is almost too much for him.

"I can't imagine losing you like that, one day you're here and the next you're just gone. I can't imagine you just being, being gone." More tears stream from his eyes even as he screws them shut tightly trying to get them to stop and himself under control. "I know I shouldn't carry it over, shouldn't let myself picture it in my life and I don't know why today, why it got to me so bad today when we see that every day, I just…"

"I know, Sweetheart," you murmur, wiping away a few more of his tears and leaning down and in to kiss his temple. "You don't need to know right now why it got to you so bad today. Just let out whatever you need to."

"Yeah," he whispers weakly. He can't really help it at this point so he doesn't even try, just lets out all the tears he apparently needed to, lets as much of the day go as he possibly can. Your hand starting to roam his body again in between wiping his tears away helps ground him and reminds him he's not alone. That you're here and doing this with and for him. That you're listening and giving him a space to process and heal.

The tears stop after a couple of minutes and Robby sniffles hard, clears his throat. "I hate this shit."

"I know you do." You give him the softest smile as eyes that you want to stare into for the rest of your life come to look at you. It makes Robby's stomach drop in the best way because fuck is he lucky to have someone looking at him how you are. You lean down and give him a gentle kiss before pulling back up so you can see him again. "Tell me what you want and need right now Michael."

"I…" That's another thing that's still hard to wrap his head around. You asking what he wants and needs, you letting him have a voice even when you usually know what he wants and needs before he does. "I need you."

You laugh softly. "You have me. Completely." You run your hand up the side of his neck and through his hair. You're not letting him completely dodge the question though. "What do you want?"

Robby shifts a little on the bed as he looks away from you, a light blush blooming over his cheeks and neck. It's not that he's timid or shy or feels like he can't ask for things, it's still just so new to him, asking for what he wants and not having it be a bad thing, not being called selfish and not being ignored. You know this and so you give him time, don't pressure him into anything.

"I want to be held," he finally whispers, more like he's admitting it to himself than anything.

"Well, Sir, I would love to hold you." You try to keep it light so that he doesn't fall too far into his head about it. He gives you a small laugh, thanking you with his eyes.

You roll onto your back and get comfy against the pillows as Robby rolls onto his side and watches you. Something about it makes him nearly weepy again because what if this was the last time he ever saw you do this. "Hey," you call to him once you're settled, able to see him going there in his mind, "come here."

He gives you something of a sheepish smile and moves toward you, laying himself down almost completely on top of you, his hips a little lower than yours so his lower body is between your legs against the bed and his head can rest on your chest. Without even fully realizing it he nuzzles his face into your chest as he wraps his arms around you and makes the cutest little contented noise.

You wrap your arms around him as best you can, put your legs over his as much as possible. One of your hands runs through his hair, scratching at his scalp and giving him a little head massage. He loves it but there's still this nagging feeling that he doesn't deserve it and that he should apologize.

"I'm sorry for all this. The crying and letting it out and whatever you want to call it," he murmurs as he listens to the reassuring thump of your heart beneath his ear. "And I'm sorry you had to come home. I know how hard girls' nights can be to plan."

"Don't apologize. You've done nothing that you need to apologize for, Baby. I didn't have to do anything. I wanted to. I know you'll never understand but I want to take care of you, Michael. It makes me happy." You pause for a moment, a memory floating across your mind. "And a very sage man once told me to never be sorry for needing to let things out because they accumulate in this job and if you keep it all in it can become debilitating."

It takes a second or two but Robby eventually places the words. He told you that back on the roof when you were an r2. He shakes his head against you. "I don't know, he kind of sounds like he's full of shit."

"Most of the time he is," you tease him. "But not about that."

Robby rubs his face against your chest and huffs. "Well, what he said applies to everyone except me."

You roll your eyes hard as you sigh playfully. "Could you feel me rolling my eyes?"

"Yes." Robby follows the word with a quick nip to one of your nipples, sucking on it gently when the nip pulls a quiet yelp and immediate shiver from you. You'd felt him moving his head and his beard scratch against your breast but you didn't expect the little bite.

You love it. "Something else you've decided you want, Michael?" There's a hint of a smirk in your voice.

"Maybe," he murmurs against you. He turns his attention to your other nipple, rutting his hips upward a little so you can feel how he's already half hard for you. "Maybe it's a need."

"Yeah?" you hum, running your hand down his back light enough to make him shiver and break out in goosebumps. "Think it might help?" You're completely unable to keep your sudden need for him out of your voice, tugging at his hair to get his lips on yours.

"Yeah." Robby's lips work their way up from your breasts to your neck and then your lips. He pushes himself up on his knees a little and cants his hips slightly so that you can feel him. "Know it will," he mumbles against your lips as he reaches them properly. "Always does."

Robby tries to ignore it, ignore what today is. But he's immediately drowning in his head about it, doing all he can to fight the overwhelming sense of dread so that it doesn't cloud this or ruin this for you or him or distract him from taking care of you.

He tries to tell himself that it's been years now where nothing has happened on this day. That doesn't work because he's pretty much kept you home or at the cabin with him on every anniversary. This is the first time since the year you were attacked that something is happening and going on the day of. He tries to tell himself it could end up turning into one of the best days of his life in a sense, the day his first child is born. But it just feels wrong.

In his world this day isn't about life, it's about death. Near death too, he supposes, since you're still alive. But that's the thing, you won't get lucky twice, the world doesn't work like that for Robby. If something starts to go wrong he's going to lose you, he just knows it, feels it in his soul.

Another contraction hits you and you need him and he needs it, needs you needing him, as much as he wishes he could take away the pain and discomfort. He helps you through it and when it's over he doesn't say anything. He just keeps it to himself.

Robby feels like he's on the edge of a panic attack with one foot already dangling over. Yes, you said if he needed to panic he could, you knew today was coming, that's why you said it, why you specifically reminded him he could. How can he really though? How can he have a panic attack on you while you're in the middle of labor dealing with agonizingly painful contractions every three or four minutes?

He knows you'd handle it so beautifully, just like you're handling labor. He knows he'd feel better if he spoke to you about it. That might prevent him from fully panicking in the first place. But it's too selfish. He can't and won't do that to you.

Time ekes its way by, both for you and for Robby. With the positions you end up getting into he's usually behind you or you're not looking directly at him which means he doesn't have to try to keep it off his face so much. But around three in the morning when you finally give yourself permission to see what time it is you realize what day it is.

You're leaning with your arms on the bed so Robby can apply counterpressure when you have a contraction, something you're finding quite helpful right now. You let out a breath as this contraction ends. "Come sit and talk with me," you tell him as you look over your shoulder and shift to sit on the bed.

Robby knows you've realized immediately. He doesn't want to do this to you. "I thought you needed counterpressure?"

"I'm okay." You smile at him, exhausted but so, so incredibly beautiful to him. You get yourself comfortable in bed, manage to cross your legs and find it actually feels kind of good. "Come here," you say softly as you pat the bed in front of you.

Robby looks at you for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away. "I don't want to do this to you."

"You're not doing anything to me, Michael. You're being the fucking best and everything I need right now." You tilt your head at him. "Do you need to go take a minute?"

"No!" he says quickly. "God, no I'm not leaving you." Robby sees you go to speak but shakes his head. "No, that's not, I don't need that, I promise. I really, genuinely need you within my line of sight and within touching distance right now."

"Come here then, please." You hold your hand out for him.

He takes it and sits next to you on the bed. As you hold his hand and give him a moment Robby tries to figure out what the fuck to say, how to say it, how to discuss this without completely breaking down. 

"I'm really fucking scared," he finally admits in a whisper. "I was scared earlier but this is different, this isn't just first time parent and doctor who knows too much scared anymore. This is… I don't know. Trauma scared. I can't help but feel like I'm going to lose you, or the baby, or both of you. I really can't fucking help but feel like I'm going to lose you, and I'm trying so hard not to…" A few tears finally slip down his face.

"It's okay to feel like that, Michael. It's okay to have that feeling. Give yourself some grace. This is a really traumatic day for you. That's okay." You feel a contraction start to come on but do your best to breathe through it so it won't totally derail the conversation. "Talk to me, yeah? We can talk it out if you think that'll help. Listening will be a good distraction."

"I don't want to make this about me." He feels you squeezing his hand harder and glances over at the monitor, sees you're starting to have another contraction. "What do you need?"

"You're, you're not making it about you." It's a little gritted out but Robby knows that's from pain and not anything else. He knows you believe it even if he doesn't. "Just need you here with me," you admit as it starts to get so painful speaking gets harder. "That's really all I need, Michael."

"Yeah?" He turns so that his body is a little more open and facing you and you respond as expected, falling into him a little to let it stretch your back. All you can do is nod as you squeeze his hand hard and fist at his shirt with your other hand, groan into him softly from the pain. "Okay."

And so he talks to you about it. He tells you how he's feeling, you reply in between contractions. Speaking with you helps so much even though it doesn't make it go away of course. It's not even that long of a conversation in the end, more he just needed to talk it out, hear you reassure him as much as you can about his fears. It doesn't go away but it isn't taking up as much space in his mind. He knows talking about it is letting him be a better partner for you as your labor intensifies and you need him more and more.

That same day at 9:27 p.m. the most beautiful cry sounds through your room, one that's so easily soothed by your touch and voice as your newborn settles on your chest, two perfect APGARs in a row. You and Robby both cry too, far longer than your baby does, Robby leaning over you with a large hand covering their entire back and then some, his other hand petting your hair as he tells you thank you and he loves you over and over again, in a kind of shock just as you are.

The next two and a half hours are a blur of skin to skin for you and baby during that golden hour, uncomfortable and fucking painful fundal massages for you, skin to skin snuggles in bed together all three of you, your first attempts at nursing, you talking about how much the baby looks like him already, brown eyes you just know will match their father's forever, the basic shape of Robby's nose, a head of his thick brown hair, and Robby's lips, and you and Robby whispering to each other in absolute awe of this little person you made together, this little piece of your love you brought into the world.

And everything and everyone is okay.

Even though it's that day.

You've just finally let yourself give into your exhaustion and are asleep in bed. Robby sits in a chair pressed right up against your bed taking turns holding your hand and rubbing your arm and thigh, his other arm and hand supporting the baby as he gets his own skin to skin time, a blanket pulled up over his shirtless upper half to help keep the baby warm.

He takes turns looking down and the baby in awe and up at you as you sleep. He looks at you with a whole new kind of awe and reverence now after watching you carry his child for ten months and then watching you labor and give birth. Robby is so, so aware of how he could never. He could never do it. Your strength and power and grace during all of it amaze him, something he's tried so hard to articulate to you in between more thank yous and I love yous.

Robby drinks in every little newborn noise your baby makes as they sleep against his chest, speaking to them softly every now and then. And as Robby sits admiring you and your small newborn, as he sits admiring the two people who are his entire fucking world, he realizes the worst day of his life is now one of the best days of his life, though he'll never forget Adamson or Leah and the pain of their loss, or the pain of almost losing you. Robby promises himself he'll tell your baby or babies about Adamson and Leah. Or maybe let Jake tell them about Leah. Robby and Jake had eventually worked through things post PittFest and Jake was thrilled to hear you were expecting and has called them his little sister or brother your entire pregnancy.

Robby glances up at the clock and watches the last seconds of the day slip by, smiling to himself. The clock ticks to midnight and now it's the day after that day and there's no new grief to be found, only joy and a type of love he never knew existed and a new life snuggled against him.

In the late morning Robby texts Jack asking him to bring you one of your favorites you'd been craving all pregnancy but haven't been able to eat because it's not pregnancy safe. There's a soft knock on the door a bit later and it opens just enough for a hand and a bag to slip through to set the bag down and leave.

You shake your head at Robby with a smile. "Jack Abbot if you don't get in here!" you call to him, Robby chuckling as he stands softly bouncing the unswaddled baby he just changed and put in a tan sleeper in his arms. You're sitting up in your bed resting.

There's a second of quiet and then the door opens and Jack peers around the curtain and grabs the bag again. "I don't want to disturb you guys or intrude."

"You're not," you tell him with a fake stern look.

Jack chuckles and holds his free hand up, walks in the room and sets the bag of food on one of the chairs before walking over to you. "Hi, mom," he smiles as he leans down to hug you and kiss you on the cheek. "Motherhood suits you. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," you smile back at him as he pulls away but continues to look down at you. "But happy, so happy and in love."

"Good," Jack nods. "Your husband said no on your behalf earlier but since I'm here I'll ask you too. You need anything?"

"No, I think we're all good, but thank you for asking." You smile softly at him. "Go meet your nephew, Jack."

A slow smile creeps onto Jack's face and he nods as he speaks. "A boy?" You nod to confirm and Jack turns to Robby. "You have a son."

"You have a nephew," Robby smiles widely at him as the two walk toward each other. "This is your Uncle Jack, Buddy," Robby murmurs to your son who wakes and opens his eyes as Robby places him into Jack's arms.

"Hi, smalls," Jack whispers as he looks down at your son, the same wonder in his voice that was in your and Robby's, that still is, honestly. "Look at you. You're perfect." Jack looks up and shoots you a look with a sappy smile before his eyes return to your son. "We won't count you looking like your dad against you, you're still the cutest baby in the whole world." You and Robby both laugh, Robby shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the man who has become his brother. "What do you think, hm? Just adjusting to the world?" Jack looks back up again at you and then at Robby, his eyes showing the faintest hint of glass, holding his newborn nephew clearly making him emotional. "He's so small," Jack laughs softly. "You guys decide on a name yet?" He looks back down at your son.

You and Robby exchange conspiratorial smiles as you start to record on your phone. "We did," Robby tells him as he pulls a beanie from your hospital bag.

Robby walks over to Jack who's still staring down at his nephew in awe. He steps close to Jack and puts the beanie on your son, adjusting it so that the embroidery on it is easily readable. "Read the beanie," Robby prompts when Jack doesn't immediately, still apparently too enamored by your son's tiny features and small hands and little noises, his brown eyes open and staring up at Jack.

Jack's head moves just slightly as he looks up and reads it. His eyes glance at Robby, over at you and then return to his nephew, almost like he doesn't want either of you to see his face as though the tremble to his chin doesn't give him away. "Why'd you guys keep it if they got it backwards?"

You share a smile with Robby before returning your eyes to Jack and your son. "They didn't," you tell him softly. "That's your nephew's name. Jack."

Robby squeezes Jack's shoulder. "Jack Michael Robinavitch."

Jack's face furrows in emotion, his chin wobbling harder as he smiles, shaking his head a little for a moment. The breath of a laugh he lets out is shuddery. "Your parents are silly for that first name, smalls." His voice cracks on the nickname, his tears clear in his voice. He brings his free hand up and brushes them away before they can fall down onto your son, has to a couple of times.

Watching Jack react and all the emotions that play over his face and how he looks at your son obviously makes you teary. And when Jack looks up at you being able to really see his tears sends yours spilling over your lash line as you smile widely at him. "I couldn't think of two better men for him to be named after."

Robby has shed a couple of his own tears too when Jack's attention shifts from you to him. "It was an easy decision, brother."

"Thank you," Jack nods at him, wiping a few more tears away, clearly struggling to pull it together. "It's an honor," his voice breaks a little and he takes a big breath in and lets it out slowly through his nose over his shoulder and away from your son. He turns back and tearfully smiles at Robby. "And I hope you both know that like you guys," he turns to smile at you, "I would unhesitatingly and unquestioningly jump in front of a train or walk into a burning building or do anything for him. He can call whenever and wherever and I'll show up."

You smile back at Jack, your smile still as watery as his. "We've known that from the moment we told you I was pregnant."

"Good," he laughs. You stop recording and get out of bed and walk over to Jack and hold your hands out for the baby so he and Robby can hug properly. Jack gives you a grateful smile before turning back to Robby and sharing a hug, a proper one. "Congratulations, Dad." Jack's voice is even thicker with emotion when he talks lower like this, another couple of tears spilling over. "He's so lucky to have you as his father, to have both of you as his parents. I'm so fucking happy for you and I am so fucking proud of you, Michael."

"Thank you." Robby swallows hard. "For everything, Jack. He's lucky to get to call you his uncle and have you in his life and I'm so happy he does." Robby cups the back of Jack's head as they pull out of the hug, Jack clapping him on his shoulder, the two smiling so hard at each other and laughing quietly through the tears they're both wiping away.

You're back chilling in bed with your son curled up on one side of your chest when both men look over at you. Robby is sure his heart could physically burst or come pretty damn close to it with how much love for you and your little boy he feels as he looks at you laying in bed while Jack walks over to you again.

Jack leans down and hugs you again, careful of your son. You hug him back as best you can, running your hand up and down his back. "Thank you, Jack. For everything you've done for us over the years and for always choosing to be a part of our family."

"Thank you for letting me be a part of it," he says softly with a quiet sniffle. "It means more than you'll ever know. And his name…" Jack trails off, clearly struggling to figure out how to articulate his thoughts and how much it means to him.

"Always," you tell him, letting him know you understand and he doesn't need to try and explain. You both pull out of the hug but you keep looking at him. "You're our family and you always will be and you're his namesake for a reason. We're all very lucky to have you."

Jack laughs, his tears finally gone, as are yours and Robby's. "I don't know about that."

You offer your son back to Jack, knowing how teasing a single minute or so of newborn snuggles must be, and Jack is clearly more than happy to hold him again, reaching out to take him and hold him close while rocking on his feet. "He told me he agrees we're all lucky to have you, and are you really going to argue with that little face?"

"Or are you just going to shut up and accept our love?" Robby teases him, smirking as he sits next to you on your bed.

Jack doesn't say anything.

You don't have a long hospital stay and are discharged around noon the following day.

Watching Robby with your son is everything to you. It's magical as cliché as it is to say. It makes you want to give him twelve more babies immediately. Your son is tiny but he looks even tinier in Robby's arms or laying on Robby's chest. There's nothing you love to watch more than the two of them together.

You know Robby had been scared when you told him you were pregnant that he wouldn't be a good father, especially if you ended up having a son. But he takes to being a father so easily, it's so natural for him. Your son always soothes so quickly with Robby. He holds your son close and speaks lowly to him while rocking him as he stands or walks around the house, narrates whatever he's doing and talks to your son when he baby wears as he does the dishes or laundry, holds your son and watches him sleep just because he's so in love with this little human. His little human. Your little human.

As focused on your son and as obsessed with him as Robby is, Robby doesn't forget about you, doesn't forget that you just carried your son for over ten months and were in labor and pushing for a combined total of 36 hours before finally giving birth. He doesn't forget that you need taken care of and loved on too.

He's so supportive and good to you that you end up crying about it sometimes in the days right after you give birth when your hormones are particularly out of balance and changing. Though you didn't have a c-section Robby still helps you shower and get dressed, is still constantly thanking you and telling you how amazing you are. He makes sure you always have everything you need within arms reach and that you stay off your feet as much as possible the first week or so and then that you don't do too much.

One day when your son is a couple of weeks old Robby pauses and leans against the doorframe just watching you and your son. You're holding him up in front of you murmuring to him and laughing softly when he yawns and stretches. You get him settled on your chest and he's out quick, especially with your hand rubbing his back. And Robby still watches the two of you in amazement, his whole entire world right there on one side of the bed.

You shut your eyes and lean your cheek down to rest it on top of your son's head, gently, taking in the softness of his hair and smell of baby shampoo from the bath you and Robby gave him together last night. Eventually you're able to feel Robby's eyes on you and you look up. "Everything okay?"

Robby smiles widely at you and nods. "Everything is perfect. I just love watching you guys." He pushes himself off the doorframe and starts walking over to the other side of the bed. "I was thinking about how long I've wanted this with you and dreamed about it and now it's here, he's here and you're mine and it's all so much better than I ever could've imagined."

"I know the feeling." You push your lips out at him as he slides into bed next to you and he eagerly gives you several kisses making you giggle, your son squirming against you a little at the movement of your chest. "Oh, very sorry, sir, I didn't mean to disturb you," you hum as you look down at him, hand switching to rub soothing circles into his back even though he didn't actually wake up or even stir that much.

Robby chuckles, beaming and shaking his head at the two of you because he loves you both too much. But for some reason his thoughts slip back, though it's not necessarily bad, just one of many moments he's had where the fact that he almost didn't have this, almost lost you, really hits him. You were in a coma right now five years ago. He was sitting in a chair watching you lay completely still in a hospital bed, talking to you at times and begging you to wake up and come back to him. And you did. And now you're laying in bed in your house with his last name and your newborn son on your chest.

"You're here," he murmurs, voice not sad or worried or forlorn this time, but full of calm happiness and wonder, a little touch of relief and a lot of adoration and achingly deep love.

You look up at him and smile, bring your free hand to his cheek and squeeze gently. "Yeah," you murmur back. "I'm here."

Two years pass in what feels like the blink of an eye. Little Jack isn't your tiny newborn anymore. He's the happiest, best toddler who's the spitting image of his father already, the two close to indistinguishable when you compare photos of Robby at his age with him. A few days after his second birthday the conversation comes up in bed one night as you and Robby lay tangled up and snuggling in your sheets after sex.

Baby Robinavitch number two.

There's always been a plan for a second baby, that was always what you and Robby talked about and thought would be ideal. You're not sure why thinking about trying for a second is scarier and harder to think about than trying for your son was, but whatever the reason, it is. It's what you want though, so you schedule an appointment with your OBGYN to get this IUD removed and then you and Robby are back to baby making sex and Robby's breeding kink is back and even more pronounced.

You're blessed a second time in that it doesn't take long for it to happen. With creativity in this kind of thing not your forté you use your son to tell Robby you're pregnant again. One Saturday morning you get your son dressed in the 'best big brother ever' shirt you'd bought and walk out to the living room with him, telling him to go see daddy. He doesn't need told twice to go see his father, happily running over to Robby in that cute way that toddlers do and lifting his hands up to be held.

"Hi, son!" Robby greets him while leaning down to pick him up. "You ready for a fun day? We'll start with the bookstore?"

Your son smiles, always so happy to be with his dad, and nods. "Yeah, dada!"

As you watch the two of them together you smile to yourself and lean against a wall just taking them in. Your boys. You wonder if you'll add another or if this baby will be a girl. You'd be thrilled about another boy of course, especially if he looked just like his father too, but there's something about thinking of Robby as a father to a little girl that you find so sweet.

You push yourself off the wall and walk into the living room further, Robby and your son looking over at you with the movement. Robby recognizes something in your smile, in the specific kind of happiness and nervousness that it shows, but he can't quite place it. "I got him a new shirt," you nod at your son to tell Robby it's the one your son is currently wearing. I think you'll like it."

"Yeah?" An amused and slightly confused smile pulls onto his face and he pulls your son away from him a little. "Let's check out the new shirt, bud." Robby reads the shirt once and he knows what the words mean, it just doesn't sink in because it's a surprise even though you've been trying and because it's you telling him you're pregnant. Again.

After a few more reads it fully processes and he gets words back again. "Does this mean…?" he starts, even though he knows exactly what it means. "You're pregnant?" Robby asks with a nod, tears already forming in his eyes. You bite your lip as you smile and nod at him, tears in your eyes just from seeing the beginnings of his. "Kid," he whispers, standing up with your son in one arm and walking to you.

"I love you so much, Michael," you sniffle through some tears as you wrap your arms around him and your son.

"I love you too, Kid, god I love you so fucking much." A few tears slip down Robby's face before he leans down to kiss you, lets the first one linger and then gives you a few more. "Another baby," he whispers, tears flowing steadily down his cheeks. "Thank you, thank you so much."

"Another baby," you nod, more tears slipping down your cheeks. You say it because you know Robby loves hearing you say it. "I'm pregnant. Again."

This pregnancy is much harder on you. There's nothing wrong, it's just a different pregnancy. Your morning sickness is worse and doesn't abate much when you hit the second trimester, or the third. You're always beyond exhausted and the back and pelvic pain sets in early in your second trimester instead of closer to the end of pregnancy. It worries Robby a lot and he hates seeing you in pain and struggling. It shows him again just how strong you are, feeling like you do and being sick frequently and still working full-time and showing up and being present for and interacting with your toddler like you did before you were pregnant.

Thankfully this labor and delivery go smoothly as your son's and, after a day just the three of you, Robby is texting Jack to bring your son to the hospital.

A knock on the door lets you know they're here, and Jack opens the door so your son can run in your room and nods at Robby with a small smile before closing the door. The look Jack gives lets Robby know he’ll be right outside your room waiting. You'd both be more than okay with him being in the room for this but you also appreciate him letting you have the family moment.

"Daddy!" your son cries out when he sees Robby.

"Hi Buddy!" He picks your son up, hugging him and chuckling at the huge bouquet of flowers your son is barely able to hold onto. Your son is three and a few months now and he feels so massive to Robby after having been holding a newborn for the last day.

"Mommy!" your son squeals excitedly when he sees you, immediately shifting in Robby's arms and reaching toward you to make his wanting to see you clear. You and Robby chuckle at it. "Missed you!"

"Hi Baby," you greet him as Robby sets him onto your lap carefully. "I missed you too, so so much!" You wrap your arms around him and smother his face in kisses making him giggle. You spot the flowers Robby's still holding and melt. "Are those flowers for me?" you gasp with extra excitement in your voice, your son nodding eagerly. "They are so, so beautiful Sweetheart, thank you so much! I can't wait to take them home and put them in a vase and somewhere I can look at them all the time!" You hug him tightly and then help him settle, not that he really needs help, easily getting comfy on your lap and snuggling into you. "Did you have a good sleepover with Uncle Jack?"

"Yeah!" he nods, his excitement still present but more subdued now that he's happily snuggled into you. "Made a fort!"

"Oh yeah? I bet that was so fun!" You kiss the top of his head while Robby keeps an eye on the baby in the bassinet. You guys had discussed how you wanted to do the introduction, giving your son plenty of time and attention first. "What else did you guys do?"

Your son makes a thinking noise. "We watched Cars."

"Did you get to watch Cars in your fort?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"Yeah!"

"That sounds pretty awesome," you tell him, kissing the top of his head again.

Your son lets out a big sigh that has you and Robby chuckling and exchanging a look. After a moment your son looks around until he finds Robby. "Daddy!" He doesn't make a move away from you but holds out his hand toward Robby.

"You want Daddy to come snuggle too?" Robby smiles at him, his heart melting a hundredth time over today. He'll never get used to your son wanting him and to snuggle with him. Your son nods against you and keeps his hand out. "Happily, Buddy."

You shift over with your son and Robby slides into bed next to you the way he has been for the last day or so. The three of you get comfortable and chat a little more as you snuggle, have a few snuggles in silence while your son relaxes against both you and Robby. You keep exchanging looks with him, still unable to believe this is really your life.

After a bit your son wiggles a little on the two of you. "Why we here?"

You look down at him and smile. "You know the baby in Mommy's tummy? Your little brother or sister?" Your son nods, blinking up at you with his father's big brown eyes. "Mommy had the baby here, so the baby came out of Mommy's tummy."

"Do you want to meet your sister?" Robby asks him with slightly raised eyebrows and subtle excitement in his voice.

Your son gasps as things click together for him the best they can at his age and because his dad is excited and so he’s excited. "Yes!"

Robby nods, leans down and kisses his cheeks and temple. "You and Mommy get comfy, okay, and I'll bring her over and you can hold her, okay?"

Your son makes a little face, the most adorable concern beyond his years on his features. "What if hurt?"

You and Robby exchange a look, both of you wanting to cry at the question and how fucking sweet it is, your little boy already caring for and loving his sister so much, already knowing she's fragile right now and needs to be taken care of.

"You won't hurt her Buddy," Robby reassures him. "But you're such an amazing brother for caring about her so much and asking."

"I'll be right here to help you, Sweetheart." You move back to the middle of the bed and put the bed forward a little more, get your son situated on your lap in a way that lets you hold him and be able to help him support her. "You're already the best big brother ever! She already loves you so much, and she's so excited to meet you!"

Before Robby goes to grab her he sets up his phone on the rolling desk tray and hits record, he knows you're both going to want to remember this forever and be able to see it whenever you want. Once it's set up he gently picks her up from the bassinet, sleeping soundly all swaddled up with her little pink beanie, and walks over to you and your son. "She's really tired right now, Honey, so she's sleeping, but she'll know you're holding her, okay?"

Robby places her in your son's lap and one of his arms, yours reaching around to help keep her supported properly. "Wow!" your son breathes excitedly as he looks down at her, deliberately keeping his voice in a loud stage whisper because Robby said she's sleeping. He looks up at you with an excited smile. "She's so small!"

"She is," you agree with him, matching his whispered voice. "You were that small once." It tugs at your heart because you remember his birth like it was yesterday, remember when he was as small as her and being placed on your chest for the first time.

Your son hums a little as he continues to look down at her. "I love you, baby!"

You and Robby share a look, neither of you surprised to find the other with glassy eyes. Your son is the best, and seeing him with his sister is one of the most special things you've ever seen. 

Your daughter makes a little newborn noise. "That's her saying she loves you too." You continue to keep your voice low, though at this point it's more to cover the tears that could start to fall at any moment.

Robby smiles, tight lipped as he tries to keep back his own emotion. "She is so lucky to have you as her big brother," Robby tells him, walking over and stopping the recording on his phone and then sitting on the edge of the bed up near the three of you.

Your son looks up at him. "She come home?"

You and Robby both laugh softly. "Yeah, Sweetheart, she's going to come home with us."

"Good," he nods. Your daughter starts to fuss and both you and Robby start to shift subtly to intervene but your son doesn't mind. "Shhhhhhhh, baby, s'okay," he whispers loudly to her. He strokes her head gently and leans down and kisses her forehead in the same exact way Robby strokes his head and kisses his forehead when he's upset. It's what makes both you and Robby lose your battles with your tears as your daughter settles under her brother's touch.

You spend some more time just the four of you and then Robby prompts your son. "You wanna introduce Uncle Jack to your sister?

He gasps in excitement. "Yeah!"

You brush a hand through his hair and kiss his temple. "Can you help Daddy go get him? Say Uncle Jack, Uncle Jack, come meet my sister!"

Your son nods in agreement and Robby picks up your daughter and holds her until your son is off your lap and then hands her over to you. Robby helps your son get off the bed and walks with him to your door, holding onto his shoulder so he doesn't dart out into the hallway.

"-Cle Jack! -Cle Jack!" your son cries out, looking over at Jack who's sitting in a chair along the wall across from your room, now chuckling at little Jack's enthusiasm. He's still not quite able to get all of uncle out but it's frankly just more adorable and melts everyone. Robby crouches down next to your son, whispering in his ear to prompt him with what to say in little bits and smiling widely at Jack. "-Cle Jack… come meet… my sister!"

Jack's eyes widen. "A girl?" Jack moves his eyes down to little Jack who's nodding vigorously in that way toddlers do. He looks back up at Robby with a slow emotional smile pulling onto his face. "You have a daughter."

Robby chuckles and smiles widely at Jack, nodding as he stands back up while Jack crosses the hallway. "You have a niece."

Once you're home the days blur together far more than they did when your son was a newborn. They're still distinct in the moment in their own ways and you're still making memories, some you'll never forget, and still having precious moments, but it’s hard to know what day it is at any given moment. Time gets more distinct as your daughter gets older and sleeping patterns return to normal and you and Robby get back to work. As the time gets more distinct it seems to go faster.

Before you know it your son is in t-ball, Robby and Jack coaching the team as much as one really coaches t-ball. It's adorable to watch, though, and they both do such a good job of keeping it positive and fun for all the kids.

Your son continues to hang out with Robby and Jack when they watch whatever sports game is on. He has been since he was just a newborn curled up on Robby or Jack's chest as they watch. The older he gets the more they have to play with him as they watch, toss a foam football or foam baseball around and play with cars and make sure he doesn't hurt himself when he's playing on the couch.

Your daughter has her first dance recital and both Robby and Uncle Jack get her bouquets nearly as big as her, so of course little Jack has to get her one too. Your little girl comes racing out and right into her daddy's arms once it's over and Robby is quick to pick her up and smother her in kisses while he sings her praises. She goes from Robby into Uncle Jack's arms for a hug and more praise and then down to her brother who hugs her tightly and kisses her cheek. You hand the bouquets back to the boys and then it's your turn to pick up your daughter and tell her how amazing she was and how proud of her you are. When she's back on the ground from your arms she's given her bouquets and can only hold them all for a minute or so because of how big they are and how little she is. But it's long enough to get fantastic pictures.

Jack meets someone and ends up getting married again, your daughter the flower girl and your son the ring bearer at the wedding, Robby standing right by Jack's side, his best man again. Your entire family loves Jack's wife, the kids calling her Auntie from pretty close to the very beginning of their relationship. Her and Jack don't want kids, they're more than happy being the very involved best Aunt and Uncle in the world.

You and Robby take the kids on vacations in the States and internationally. You frequently make a family vacation out of conferences you or Robby go to, one of you attending the conference and doing things as a family at night and then staying at least a few days once the conference is over to explore wherever it is you are.

There's so many big moments, each of them losing their first tooth, starting kindergarten, learning to ride a bike. But there's a million little moments too, mundane and everyday things that make up life, eating dinner together at the table as a family, ice cream after soccer practice, snuggles when they're sick, making cookies together.

The years pass fast and before you know it you have two kids in the same school, your daughter six and your son nine. They're passed out on you and Robby on the couch at the cabin just like you knew they would when you pressed play on the third movie they begged you to let them watch and said they’d stay awake for. It was a long day of sledding and playing in the snow. You guys have a tradition of coming up just the four of you at least once every December, a tradition you and Robby started well before the kids came along but that you've continued with them and plan to continue as long as possible.

You built onto the cabin, put in another couple of rooms and a den kind of situation in anticipation of the kids wanting to bring friends up with them once they're older. While they're younger it's a good indoor camping spot during the snowy months, and while Jack and his wife have their own room you built into the expansion, they're frequently asked to camp and have sleepovers in the den by your kids and they can never say no. Jake can be found there with them frequently too whenever he comes up with you even though you also built a room for him.

The tub Robby picked out for you all those years ago is still there, still gets a ton of use every time you're here. You and Robby still have sex in it sometimes. Because that's a constant for you guys. Your sex life and attraction to each other. It hasn't greatly diminished or gone away just because you're parents. If anything you just continue to grow more attracted to each other over the years, and you are especially driven insane by Robby's continual graying. He's gotten to the point of having significantly more salt than pepper. Everywhere. 

You make time for each other and make it work, prioritize your relationship as much as your family.

You look over at Robby, your son sprawled on top of him, his twin. "When did they get so big?" you ask softly to not disturb either of them. Your daughter is sprawled on top of you, also very clearly her father's daughter. There's no question about whose genetics were stronger, at least phenotypically.

Robby looks over at you and your daughter. "I know. It feels like just yesterday they were newborns being placed on your chest for the first time." He makes a little face at you and you give a soft huffed laugh and smirk at him.

"You really wanna start all over?" You raise your eyebrows. The thing is if Robby says yes, you'll do it. You'll absolutely have another baby with him right now.

"No," he chuckles. "It was just an impulsive thought. I think our little family is pretty perfect."

"I think so too," you murmur, giving him a mushy smile.

Robby lets out a long breath. "Take them to bed?"

"Yeah," you nod. Both of you stand and groan with little laughs. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to carry her like this." Robby chuckles in agreement and you take the kids to their respective rooms and tuck them in. You had them change into their pajamas earlier.

Robby beats you back to the living room and has turned off the TV by the time you get back. He hears you walk into the room from where he is. He makes sure the volume is low and then drops the needle, your song, the same one he proposed with, filling the room.

As you walk over to him he turns and holds out his hands for you to take so he can pull you close and the two of you can dance. Or just sway together and be close in front of the fireplace. The whole thing makes you emotional because it's so sweet and romantic of him, reminds you of him proposing which makes you think about everything the two of you went through to get to that point. To get to this point. A six and a nine year old.

"You're the sweetest," you murmur to him as you take his hands and let him pull you close.

You guys fall into a natural position and Robby smiles down at you. "It's the anniversary of me proposing. The date."

"That feels like a lifetime ago," you smile back at him, shaking your head slightly. "I can remember it clearly, don't get me wrong, but it just feels like that was so long ago."

"It does," Robby agrees. He leans down and kisses you, a couple of soft ones and a few that linger and get heavier. Robby rests his forehead against yours for a minute before he pulls away, looks you in your eyes, his emotions palpable in a way that would concern you if you couldn't see how happy he is behind them all.

"I'm really glad you're here," he whispers. His words are simple but they and his eyes communicate a million things left unspoken, in particular the little moment of aching he's having at the thought of you not being here, and not having this with you.

Because even this many years later what happened to you is still etched into his brain as healed as he is. He still has moments where he can't help but think about it and what his life would look like now if he'd managed to survive your death. But he knows how to talk to you in those moments and has learned how to take those feelings and that trauma and make it into something almost nostalgic and beautiful, like holding his wife, the love of his life who he almost lost, close and dancing with her in the same place he proposed with the same song playing with a plan to take her to bed once the song ends to show her how much he loves her and needs her.

"I'm really glad I'm here too," you whisper back, giving him the softest smile that tells him you understand, that you heard everything he just said, spoken and unspoken.

Robby smiles down at you, soft and adoring and like he still can't believe you're his. "I love you."

"I love you more," you murmur as you continue to sway together in front of the fireplace, looking up at him with that perfect smile you have like he's your whole world and like he's devoted his entire being to you and you know it, recognize it because you've devoted your entire being to him.

After all this time and everything the world has thrown at the two of you he's still yours and you're still his. And he will always be yours and you will always be his. You whisper what you said all those years ago when you first listened to the original version of this song in his apartment because it just feels right, feels like one of the deepest expressions of your love.

"My Michael."