Archive of Our Own ^beta

The scariest part of the day wasn’t losing Leah, or watching Jake slowly start to hate him after Robby told him the news. It wasn’t gunshot victims begging for help. It wasn’t even the gunman opening fire on the ED. No, the scariest part of Robby’s day was minutes after, when the man had been subdued and everyone was taking stock of themselves and their surroundings. When nurses, doctors and janitors were all checking each other for injuries and police were shouting orders. When Robby looked around and saw all of his nurses, all of his doctors accounted for, except for one.

It started normally enough. A batch of new doctors, nurse shortage, and enough coffee to keep him awake for 2 days. After years of avoiding the ER on this day in particular, it was finally time to face his demons head on. If he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t have even gotten out of bed. Unfortunately he did, and the chaos that followed was his own personal hell. He deserved it, he supposed. Letting your mentor die should have consequences.

Of course the day just has to be one shit show after another, and by hour 9 of a 12 hour shift, he’s ready to head home and drink himself into a stupor. Or cry himself to sleep. Whichever.
Which, naturally, is when he’s told about his favorite resident’s fucking drug problem. Of all of the people in the pitt, he never would’ve guessed it’d be Langdon stealing benzos to feed a habit. It throws him off for a minute, turns his whole world view on its side.

He’s always had a soft spot for the kid. Well, he’s a grown man now. It’s hard for Robby not to notice. He’s watched him grow and mature since his first day in the ED, ever cocky and self assured. Robby sees past the bravado, knows that Langdon has always had a need for validation and recognition in his work. He thrives off of praise, a fact that Robby tries not to take advantage of too often. But it’s hard not to indulge now and then. He could easily become addicted to the way Langdon’s eyes light up, the soft flush of his cheeks, the smile that goes on for hours after Robby tells him he’s done great work. On the hard days it’s Robby’s only solace.

After hearing about Langon’s little problem from a goddamned intern, Robby is so mad that he hopes he never sees his face again. Langdon not only put himself at risk, but Robby, the nursing staff, and the whole damn hospital as well. It’s that thought that leads him to throw Langdon out. If nothing else, it gives Robby a few hours to figure out what the hell he’s going to do.

Naturally, the world has other plans and an active shooter situation at a local festival leaves him angry, but relieved, to see Langdon back at work. For all of his flaws, Robby does believe that he wasn’t high at work. Robby would’ve noticed.

Right?

He would’ve.

Definitely.

Probably.

Doesn’t matter now. Too many people would ask too many questions about why Robby was sending home his best resident if he kicked Langdon out of the ED during the worst mass casualty event Pittsburgh has seen. In hindsight, if Robby would’ve sent him home, he wouldn’t currently be panicking that he lost one of the most important people in his life.
___________________________

“I need blood! Someone get me blood over here now,” Frank yells across the ED, hoping someone hears him over the noise. His patient isn’t going to make it to the elevator let alone the OR without a transfusion.

The situation is fucked. This whole goddamn day is. He just wants to go home and forget it ever happened. A pill, one drink, and he’ll sleep until his next shift, blissfully unaware of his surroundings. Of course, his stash is currently being held hostage by his boss. The reminder puts a damper on things and makes him even more anxious.

Robby is never going to forgive him. Even if Frank can convince him not to turn him into the ethics board, Robby will make sure Frank never practices medicine in Pittsburgh again. Hell, he’ll probably make it his life’s mission to ensure Frank never practices again at all. And really, if he’s being honest with himself, Frank can’t blame him. He fucked up. So royally in fact that it’s a goddamn miracle he’s not in cuffs downtown somewhere.

Disappointing Robby is at the absolute bottom of the list of things he wants to do. Right behind have another kid and die in a fire. He’d rather spend an eternity in Hell than have Robby look at him like he’s anything less than Robby’s go-to guy. It’s why he didn’t tell him about his problem in the first place. It’s hard to confess a drug problem to the one person in the world whose opinion actually matters to you. Going to God himself and confessing all of his sins would be easier than admitting to Robby that Frank can’t get himself under control. And now? Now he’s doomed to peer across the ED and see Robby’s untrusting gaze on him as he works. It’s unsettling and disappointing and if he wasn’t so dedicated to the “saving lives” part of the job, Frank definitely would’ve stayed home.

As it is now, he’s having problems focusing on anything other than the thousand ideas floating around in his brain for how to get back on Robby’s good side. It doesn’t affect his work, because if nothing else, doing great work will please Robby, but it does leave him distracted from anything but the task at hand.

Just as the nurse to his left hands him a bag of blood, loud noise erupts over the already chaotic ED. He sees people dropping to the ground, grabbing patients and friends and loved ones and pulling them with them. Maybe it was the pills, maybe it was something else, but the extra 20 seconds it takes his brain to understand what’s happening ends up putting him right in the line of fire.

The shot rings out just as Frank throws his body over the woman on the gurney in front of him. He feels as soon as the bullet makes contact with his shoulder. It’s a searing heat that leaves him breathless. The adrenaline pumping through his veins does nothing to stop the intense pain that shoots through his entire body. One second he’s using his body to shield his patient and the next he’s on the ground, crawling away to some bastardized version of safety. It’s not until he’s up against a hard, painted wall that he realizes he crawled right into Pedes, aka the morgue. What a fitting place to die.
______________________________

Robby’s heart skips a beat, his breathing turns ragged. He knows where Langdon was when the shooting started. He knows where he should be now. But as Robby’s eyes scan the ED, glancing over the chaos and searching for his resident, he can’t find him.

People are shouting.

Patients, who have now been in two mass shootings in as many hours.

Doctors and nurses, assessing each other and those in their care.

Police, checking for another offender, for any injuries on one of their own.

But Robby can’t see Langdon anywhere. Dana is shouting orders while Jack triages a whole new set of wounds. Santos and Whitaker are running gauze and other supplies to those in yellow that got injured further. Mohan and Javadi are working on a man on the floor. Mel, wildly calm in crisis, is helping Garcia get the red patients stabilized.

But Langdon isn’t anywhere.

It feels almost disingenuous worrying about him. Just an hour ago he was happy not to see his face for the rest of the night. Robby shouldn’t get to panic. It’s not his place to worry about Langdon. Langdon has a wife. A kid. A whole family who gets to lose it over losing him. Not Robby. He’s just Robby’s resident. He’s just Robby’s guy. He’s just the only reason Robby gets through his shift some days.

Distantly he’s aware of someone yelling. It sounds pained and terrified and if he was a better man he would stop and help them. But he can only think about one thing. It consumes him entirely, the only reason he’s still upright, frantically searching; find Langdon. It’s not until Jack is in front of him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and snapping fingers in his face, that Robby realizes the one yelling is him.
_________________________________

Frank used to think of himself as the best Pittsburgh could get. Some called him cocky, but he worked hard to get where he was and he was damn good at it too. There was a reason he was Robby’s guy.
Was.

Now, faced with his own mortality, Frank’s not even sure if he’s any better than an intern.
He tries to keep pressure on the wound but the bleeding won't slow down. It makes his scrub top slippery, his hand sliding and releasing new waves of blood every few seconds. The small pad of gauze he managed to find, somewhere, his pocket maybe? Was soaked through the second it touched his shoulder.

He can hear yelling and people running outside. Gurneys being pushed and supplies being delivered. It would be so easy to get help. All he has to do is get up. Up, up, up on two feet and out the door. Someone would see him. They’d fix his shoulder and he could get back to work. But it’s hard finding the motivation when his life is already so fucked.

It would be so much easier to just sit against the cold, block wall and wait. Someone could still find him. Surely they’re missing him. Right?

Maybe Robby is looking for him. He had his eyes on him the whole time. He had to have seen him get hit and be wondering where he got to. If nothing else, he has to be worried Frank will use this as an excuse to get meds. If he waits, just a little longer, Robby will find him. Robby’s never let him down before. Frank wishes he could say the same thing.

He can feel nausea setting in. That means he’s lost at least 15% of his blood volume. Not great. Just as his brain is supplying this information, his vision blurs. He tries, he tries so hard to stay awake, but he finds comfort in the darkness.

I tried, Robby. I tried.
________________________________

“Robby! ROBBY! Christ, man, snap out of it!” Jack is yelling at him but the words don’t register.
In one ear, out the other, Adamson used to say. You’re the smartest damn resident I have Robby but if you don’t start listening to me, you’ll be someone else’s problem soon enough.

He tries to bring Jack back into focus in front of him, but his pulse is thumping so hard in his ears that he can’t hear or see. Maybe the lack of vision has something to do with his hyperventilation. There’s too much and too little happening in his head to make sense of it all.
Distantly he feels something cold against his back and then he’s sitting. There’s pressure on his arm and he still can’t get enough oxygen to his lungs. Every breath is like dragging an anchor up from the bottom of the ocean. There's a shrill ringing in his ears that won’t stop, won’t let any other noises through.

It could be hours or minutes or later, Robby doesn’t know. But eventually the faces in front of him come into focus again. He can hear their words start to make sense.

“-et him in a bed and on a monitor.”

“No, we don’t have the resources. Robby, dammit, come on man. We need you.”

“If he doesn’t show signs of imp-”

“I’m fine.” He chokes it out, barely more than a whisper but he puts all he has behind it. Gotta make them believe.

“Oh jesus christ! Thank god. Robby, look at my nose. Follow the light. Good. Good. Drink this.” Dana’s voice is a sweet hymn in his ears. The more she talks, the more in focus the world around him becomes. Soon, he’s back to reality and the gravity of the situation hits him like a ton of bricks once again.

“Langdon. Where’s Langdon? Dana, where the hell is Frank?”

If he didn’t know any better, Robby would think he was speaking Mandarin for all that Jack and Dana seem to understand him. “Langdon. He was outside of central 10 when the shooting started. I can’t see him. I can’t find him anywhere,” he tries again. He attempts to keep the urgency and panic out of his voice, but he knows he fails. As the seconds tick by, he can feel himself slowly working up to a panic yet again.

Dana finds words first. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Probably rushed a patient to the OR.”

“Yeah last I saw he was working on a woman who looked to be in pretty bad shape. Probably high tailed it out of here with her.” Jack sounds so confident. Robby wishes he could believe him. But a nagging feeling in his gut tells him something is wrong. So so wrong.

The feeling continues to eat at him as he assists on a REBOA on a 15 year old boy. As he packs a gunshot wound on a 43 year old mother of two. As he helps Santos transfuse a 58 year old man with one last unit before calling for a black and white tag.

It eats and eats until it’s consumed his whole being. He’s a shell of himself by the time he offers to take the man to Pedes. As much as that room haunts him, he needs the relative quiet to help bring himself back from the precipice of something very bad.

As he wheels the gurney through the sea of patients, he once again scans the ED. People have stopped showing up, which is a good sign. It gives the staff the chance to catch up. It’s still chaotic, but the chaos is far more controlled and Robby is pretty sure they can manage without him for five minutes while he talks himself off of the edge. That would be easier, of course, if Robby saw Langon anywhere. But once again, he comes up empty. His stomach lurches, its contents threatening to add to the mess on the floor.

Just make it to Pedes. You’re so close. Don’t you dare breakdown in front of them again.

As he walks past central 10, he sees a trail of blood on the floor.

His heart rate spikes, ice cold fear running through his veins. The gurney is abandoned in the hallway as Robby follows the trail of blood through the corridor. As he sees where it ends, he feels like a fool. Of course there’s blood leading to Pedes. At least half a dozen people have died today. He shakes his head, tries to clear his vision as it threatens to go dark on him. Shit. No no no no no.

He takes the last few steps to Pedes as quickly as he can without looking like a mad man. He throws the door open, ducking inside just as the panic takes over again. His back hits the wall so hard he’s sure he’ll have bruises in the morning, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

Sobs wrack his body as Robby holds his head in his hands, desperately trying to get enough oxygen to breathe properly. He’s completely gone, out of it. Can’t hear anything outside of the door. His world is just him and the dead people in this room he couldn’t save. Tears run down his face, littering the isolation gown that’s already covered in blood.

“Robby?”

Robby has never recovered from anything so quickly. One word, just his name, pulls him out of his spiral so fast he distantly thinks he might be dreaming. He finds his breath again and calms his heart rate easily, opening his eyes and dreading seeing whoever found him like this again. Except, when he does, when his gaze lands on the origin of the voice, his heart stops. His blood ceases to flow. It has to. Because it takes him a disturbingly long time to realize that the lump on the floor is a person. Langdon. His resident.

“Langdon? Frank jesus christ!” Robby is up and moving as soon as he registers it’s him. He lays Langdon out on the cold floor and scans his body. He quickly registers a bleeding wound on Langdon’s left shoulder. A million thoughts fill his head.

“S-okay Robby. Doesn’t hurt,” Langdon breathes out, barely audible.

“Langdon, I need you to keep your eyes open. Okay? Frank. FRANK! Eyes on me kid, hold on.” Decades of training finally come rushing back and Robby is up and at the door in no time.

Just as he goes to throw it open, he hears a small voice behind him, “d-don’t leave me.”

He feels his heart break in his chest. Tiny pieces of it mixing with tears and rolling down his face. It takes everything he has not to run back to Frank and hold him. Promise him he won’t ever leave. But his brain is helpful this time. Reminds him that doing that would surely mean Frank’s death; and probably Robby’s too.
Begrudgingly he pushes open the door and lets the noise and chaos of the pitt soothe his nerves.

_____________________

Dying used to be terrifying. The thought of nothingness. Of emptiness. Of just no longer ceasing to exist. What if no one remembers you? What if you’ve done nothing worth remembering? Fading into oblivion was truly a fate Frank had no intention of letting come true. But now he’s cold. He’s tired. The lights are so bright, it’s easier to close his eyes. With them open, he gets glimpses of faces. Ones he knows well and ones he just met today. They all look concerned. Hell, maybe even scared. Frank didn’t think Dana was capable of such a thing. She’s been so strong and unyielding since his first day. And Abbott, wow Abbott. He looks worried. Frank hasn’t worked with him much but he knows the stories. The man has a reputation for being so calm under pressure that it’s almost scary. But when his face appears above Frank's, that mask is gone.

It should probably worry Frank. They all seem to think he’s going to die.

He’s moved this way and that. Undressed. Poked. Prodded. On his side he sees someone in the corner. Hands in their hair. Now that’s pain. That’s pure terror in their eyes.

Oh. Those eyes. He knows them. Has to consciously try not to get lost in them some days. When the day has been long and the patients have been hell. When he sees texts from Abby asking why he didn’t fold the laundry. Or take out the trash.

He knows those eyes well.

“Robby.”

It’s barely a whisper. Hell, he might not have even said it at all. He’s so cold. He’s so tired. Life is so much better falling asleep looking at Robby. He doesn’t have many regrets. But he does wish he got to do that before he died. This version isn’t the same. Robby isn’t smiling softly in his sleep. Frank isn’t curled up on his side beside him, counting the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

That would be heaven. This must be hell.

________________________

Three hours. Eight minutes. 39 seconds.

40.

41.

42.

Robby watches time slip away as he sits and waits for news on Frank’s condition. He paces the corridor fifteen times. Drinks four cups of coffee. Nearly has two panic attacks. People come and go. Dana waits with him after she gets off shift. But she has a black eye and someone to get home to. Whitaker and Santos awkwardly stop by around hour 1, asking for any news. They leave quickly when Robby tells them he knows nothing.

Mel holds his hand while he talks himself out of potential panic attack number 2. She’s so kind and strong, so sure that Frank will pull through. It’s calming and reassuring but he still doesn’t believe.

Jack takes three minutes out of his shift to come up and squeeze his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to. He knows Robby better than Robby knows himself some days.

Three hours. 52 minutes. 18 seconds.

“Dr. Robby?”

Robby’s head snaps up so fast he could have whiplash. He looks carefully at the surgeon. He doesn’t know her. Has maybe said hello in passing once or twice. He doesn’t know her tells. Can’t read her face.

“Yeah, that’s me. How is he?”

She smiles, and it’s warm. That’s a good sign.

“Do you know where his family is? I was informed that his wife is here.”

Right. Wife. Next of kin. Protocol.

“Uh no. I um. I haven’t seen her.” He keeps his voice even. Neutral. If he didn’t feel like crawling out of his skin right now, he’d even convince himself he was just a concerned mentor.

“Thank you. I’ll find you after I inform the family,” she says, and walks down the hall to another waiting area. Like she doesn’t hold the key to his heart in her hands. Like whatever she has to say won’t change the trajectory of the rest of his life.

As he spirals, he hears a woman cry. She says a litany of thank yous and then gets crowded into an elevator. He sees her smiling as the doors close.

Robby met Abby once, years ago. But she looks the same as she did back then. It’s good news, then. Frank is ok.

The sigh of relief is almost euphoric. The adrenaline that’s been fueling him for hours slowly starts to dissipate. The surgeon finds him again, this time with a smile on her face.

“He’s in post-op now. Surgery went well, all things considered. He had lost a lot of blood by the time we got him. Took 12 units to stabilize him. The bullet hit the scapular spine and shattered. We dug at least a dozen pieces out before ortho got in there to take a look. It chipped the bone but didn’t fully break it, by the grace of god. He’ll be in a lot of pain for the next month, and in a sling for probably two, but he should recover full use of the arm just fine and be able to return to full duties. You guys did good work down there today, Doctor. Helluva a team you have there.”

Robby barely gets a thank you out before she's walking away. Probably for the best. His head is swimming and there’s not a chance he could hold a conversation. He’s stuck on the fact that Frank is ok. He’s going to be ok. He’s alive. Jesus fuck he’s alive.

_______________________

Franks wakes up slowly. The shooting pain in his shoulder is the first thing he registers, followed by the dryness in his mouth. He opens his eyes hesitantly, wishing he could just go back to sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep is where Robby lives in his dreams. Where they have a life together. Where Frank isn’t so damn scared to admit he might’ve fucked up marrying young.

Sleep won’t take him back, unfortunately, so he blinks away the last remnants and tries to remember where he is. It doesn’t smell like his bedroom. Or the livingroom, where he’s been sleeping more often than not. It’s not an on-call room. There’s too much noise. Machines beeping, voices in the distance. A soft snore close by.

He blinks again and wills his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Faint light seeps through closed blinds on the windows to his left. To his right, the door is closed and the curtains are drawn, but Frank makes out quickly that he's in one of the hospital’s private rooms. The soft snoring starts up again and he looks down the bed to see a figure draped over the side by his hip, head pillowed on their arms.

It only takes a moment to register who it is. Abby doesn’t snore. She’s also not the size of a grown man.

Robby.

Frank hears the beeping of the heart monitor pick up as his heart rate increases. It’s a subconscious thing, to tune into the sounds of life. A fast heart rate can mean many things, and in the ED, time is life. Learning to listen to the machines and pick up subtle differences is something Robby taught him. Everything good he knows about being a doctor came from Robby.

Naturally, Robby stirs. Probably heard the same thing Frank did, and that sends another jolt of something through his body.

“Morning sunshine,” Frank manages to get out. His mouth really is so dry. It sounds like he’s been a pack a day smoker for 30 years. With his eyes now adjusted to the low light, he can watch as Robby fully wakes, gets his bearings, and then registers what’s going on. The smile that breaks out across his face makes his eyes wrinkle and fuck, Frank is so screwed.

“Christ, Fr-Langdon. You picked one hell of a day to get shot.” Frank can tell he tries to be casual about it, but he knows better. He’s spent hours upon hours watching Robby, he knows his tells. He’s terrified.

“Ye-yeah man. Needed a uh, a distraction.” It’s playing with fire, joking about a drug problem he maybe definitely has, but Frank is afraid that if he’s sincere, his mask may slip. And the last thing Robby needs today is his drug addict resident also confessing his undying love. That can wait. For forever, probably.

Robby cocks his head, eyes him in a way that’s meant to say Are you fucking serious without actually saying a word. It’s effective, always is. One of Frank’s favorite things is being able to read Robby. Not having to use words to communicate with each other. It feels personal, intimate.

Robby shakes his head and turns to reach for something, before bringing a straw to Frank’s lips. “Drink. You sound worse than I feel. These chairs were not meant for sleeping.”

As he drinks, Frank wonders just how long Robby has been here. Hours? Days? Certainly Frank wasn’t out that long, right?

His mouth and throat feel much better by the time he pulls away, watching as Robby takes a sip too before sitting the cup back down on the table. His casualness about it all, sharing a straw, helping Frank get a drink, is going to drive Frank insane.

“How long was I out?”

Robby sighs and stands. Frank tries so hard not to stare, but it’s impossible when Robby stretches his arms above his head, exposing the smallest bit of stomach before relaxing again.

“You got out of surgery eight hours ago. Blood loss kept you out for longer than I’d like but your stats are holding well and the last bloodwork came back with good numbers.”

On a good day, Robby talking medicine like he knows everything there is to know about it is hot. On a bad day, Frank has to hide in the bathroom for five minutes and splash cold water on his face before he can see patients again. Turns out, it can be so much hotter. He feels his heartrate spike again, and moves around in the bed to cover up the sudden rise. That, of course, only serves to aggravate his shoulder and sends a deep pain down his whole left side. He tries to keep his face neutral, not let on that he’s the biggest fucking idiot on the planet, but Robby is there by his side already, stabilizing his shoulder with one large hand, while the other presses a button.

“Acetaminophen, for the pain.” God, his face is so sincere.

“I was shot and they’re giving me Tylenol?"

Robby’s face once again contorts into something that’s meant to say all of the things he doesn’t want to. He paces the floor for a little too long, and Frank realizes what he meant.

“Oh I didn’t realize you were my treating physician.” It’s a bratty thing to say, comes out petty and dismissive. Like he’s looking for a fight. Hell, maybe he is. That would be easier. He can already feel withdrawal symptoms starting.

Robby’s head shoots up, and Frank sees the second he decides to take the kid gloves off.

“You stole fucking drugs from patients, Frank! Are you really going to lay there and tell me I should let them give you morphine? Or Oxy? Are you fucking kidding me? And I swear to god Frank if you try to tell me you’re not an addict I will walk out of this door and not be back.” Robby all but yells it at him, probably would if there weren’t a half dozen people on the other side of the door that could hear them. Even pissed off at him, Robby has Frank’s back. It’s a painful thought, knowing that the one person who will be there for you no matter what is also the one you hurt the most.

It’s exhausting, really, keeping up the whole charade. Robby already knows, why try to come up with more lies?

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” he says instead. It’s not exactly an admission of guilt but it’s not a denial either. Robby will appreciate that.

“For what? To become an addict or to get shot and almost die?” The way he says it, the heat from earlier replaced with something akin to desperation, makes Frank’s stomach churn.

“To disappoint you,” Frank whispers, his voice small, like when he was a kid and did something wrong. He wants to keep his eyes down, looking at his lap instead of the pain and disappointment on Robby’s face. But the option is taken away from him when hands carefully cradle his face and force him to look up.

Robby’s face is so sincere now, soft even. No traces of the anger that was flowing through moments ago.

“Let me help you.”
_________________________

Fuck, all Robby wants to do is help him. Every fiber of his being is begging to pull Frank close and tell him everything will be ok. To get him clean and sober and back to work before anyone notices. To hold him through detox, carefully feeding him little bites here and there, small sips of water or juice to wash it down. It’s an almost primal urge to care for and protect Frank, and Robby doesn’t have one singular idea how he’s going to suppress it.

“It’s too late for that. Everyone knows.” Frank’s gaze casts downward again even as Robby’s hands continue to cradle his jaw.

That won’t do.

Robby shakes his head. “Sollenberger owed me. As far as anyone knows you’re just a tough guy who hates taking the hard stuff.”

He smiles when Frank’s eyes snap up to meet his. “Y-you didn’t tell them, " Frank asks. His voice breaks and Robby watches as he wills the tears away.

“No. God help me but no I didn’t.”

Robby doesn’t mean for his hands to wonder. For his right to slide back further, tucking behind Frank’s head, his thumb gently rubbing circles across his ear and cheek. For the other to trace down his shoulder, his bicep, feeling the warmth of the exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. He didn’t mean for this to become...intimate. How could he ever explain this if someone walked in? If Frank’s wife walked in?

Frank, for his part, leans into Robby’s touch, sighing like Robby just injected morphine into his IV. His body relaxes as Robby’s hand explores on its own volition. “What do we do now?”

And god, the way he looks at him when he asks. He looks so small, delicate. So full of trust and desperation. Like he knows Robby has an answer. As if Robby will always be there to catch him.

Of course he will.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”
_____________________________

As it turns out, figuring it out meant Robby using the shooting as an excuse to ship Frank off to rehab without anyone being any the wiser. Conveniently, the day he got out of the hospital was also the day that he went to rehab, and the day the messenger served him divorce papers. Nothing like kicking a man when he’s down.

Not that he blamed Abby. He really didn’t. If Frank was a better man he would’ve started the process himself. Instead he hid behind drugs and then a gunshot wound, and let Abby be the bad guy. In the end, it’s probably for the best anyway. Her reason for divorce, wanting to get away from her addict husband, was so much better than Frank’s. How do you politely say ”I love you but I’m in love with my boss”? Probably impossible.

Frank doesn’t argue on any point. Lets her have everything she wants. It’s the least she deserves, he thinks, for putting up with a man who checked out of the marriage long ago. And so Abby keeps the house, her car, the dog, and their son. The last one pains him, but he’d be with her anyway while Frank’s in rehab. No reason to confuse him anymore than he already is. He gets supervised visitation once he’s out and proves he can stay sober. And then, once six months clean, he’s welcome to take Tanner whenever their schedules align. Abby isn’t a hateful person, she wants her son to know and love his father. It’s the right thing to do, all of it, and in the end, Frank knows they’ll all be better for it.

Now though, sweaty and irritated, on day 14 of a 30 day program, Frank is miserable and cursing everyone for it. If Santos would’ve just minded her business. If Robby would’ve listened to him instead of some intern. If Dana would’ve had his back.

Christ. He’s pathetic. He brought all of this on himself. His back doesn’t even hurt anymore. And his shoulder is healing better than anyone expected. Nonnarcotic pain management, in combination with regular stretching and movement, really does control the pain that ruined his life.

The nausea stopped three days ago but Frank takes small, careful bites of the sandwich left for him. It’s sweet lebanon bologna, a favorite of his since coming to Pennsylvania. Not for the first time, he wonders if all patients get their favorites, or if someone put in a special request for him. He wouldn’t put it past Robby. Hell, the number of times they’ve argued over food preferences while working on a patient is shockingly high. The man knows practically every one of Frank's favorite foods. And if he tried hard enough, he could probably rank them.

Robby hasn’t visited yet, but then again, no one is allowed visitors until day 14, so it’s a little juvenile to expect him to make the 2 hour drive on the very first eligible day. Still, Frank holds out hope.

Day 15

Day 16

Day 21

Every day is the same. Wake, breakfast, therapy, lunch, physio, dinner, shower, bed. It repeats on a predictable loop, and Frank finds comfort in knowing exactly what comes next. The doc said routine is good for addicts, makes sure they don’t have the time to sit idly and crave. And he was right. Frank hasn’t had a craving in a week. In his spare time, he plans out a routine for when he gets home, something that will keep him busy and his mind occupied. He falls comfortably into the routine, until day 22 when a nurse pulls him from lunch early and tells him he has a visitor.

It’s Robby, of course it is, no one else even knows he’s here. Still, there’s a gaping pit in his stomach as he walks to his room. Thoughts swirl around in his head, and he’s managed to work himself into a sweat by the time he walks in and sees Robby standing by the window, back to him, admiring the view.

“Best view in this place huh?”

Robby jolts, turns around, and Frank swears it’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. He’s so handsome, beard well kept and eyes so soft, vulnerable. His arms are crossed over his chest, making his tshirt pull taught. It accentuates the muscles he often hides, the ones that Frank dreams about. He looks like Frank should kiss him.

“Best view I’ve had in a while,” Robby says softly, his eyes wandering over Frank. It feels like...flirting, almost. And Frank isn’t sure what to do with that information.

He decides to sit on the edge of his bed, gesturing for Robby to find a seat on the small sofa to his right.

“22 days.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

___________________________________

In truth, Robby waited so long because he had to know that he could. He needed to be sure that Frank wasn’t his only focus, his only reason for getting up in the morning. The longer he went without seeing him, the easier it was to convince himself that he wasn’t emotionally dependent on a 32 year old resident slash drug addict.

It was, of course, all for show. Robby’s first thought every morning was wondering how Frank was doing and his last before bed every night was wishing he was in his arms. Still, it felt like an accomplishment being able to stay away for so long. Eventually though, the not knowing got to be too much and on his one day off this week, Robby made the drive to Williamsburg.

Waiting for Frank to come to his room was its own unique kind of torture. Robby paid for the best room in the place, so the view from Frank’s window was no surprise. But it paled in comparison to hearing his voice and turning around to see the younger man again. He looked like something out of Robby’s wet dreams. Hair tussled, baggy sweat pants and matching sweater making him look small and safe. Like something Robby wanted to bury his face in and never leave. Like something he wanted to corrupt and defile.

He was so fucked.

Remembering Frank’s question, Robby smiles. “I wanted to make sure you knew how strong you are.” Not...entirely the truth, but it sounded good and it made Frank smile wide, blush creeping up his neck.

“Yeah it’s uh, it's been great, actually. I’m really learning how to deal with things and talking a lot about...y’know, life.”

“I’m glad, Frank. You look good. Healthy. Happy. I couldn’t be more proud.” He definitely added the last part just to see if the flush would follow its path higher. And it did. Frank ducked to hide his face but Robby could still see the redness all the way up to his ears. It was adorable. Sweet. Sexy. Robby needs to get out of here before he does something stupid like walking over and kissing him.

Blessedly, the rest of the visit passes by without incident. Robby is able to keep himself under control for two hours, more than content to listen to Frank go on about everything he’s been up to. Robby could’ve stayed and listened for hours more, but Frank has plans and Robby has a now three hour drive back to Pitt with traffic.

After saying their goodbyes, Robby feels eyes on him as they part ways, and he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. The feelings were obviously mutual, not a chance in hell Frank looked at him like he had all visit and didn’t want what Robby wanted. Unfortunately, circumstances being what they are, there was nothing either of them should do about it. Should.

But Robby was making plans. Frank said he’d need a place to stay after rehab and across the street from Robby’s place was a two bedroom apartment for rent. It’d be his by next weekend, and fully furnished and ready to move in by the time Frank was released. It was the perfect set up. He made use of the long drive by calling the realtor he used to find his place years ago. She’s excellent at her job. No bull shit, no funny business. Just getting her clients the best deal possible while being wildly thorough.

She knows the exact property he’s talking about and by the time he’s parked his car at home, she’s calling back to schedule a walkthrough of the apartment.

With his job, it’s easy to get approved and win over the landlady, who is just thrilled that a doctor will be living in her property. If Robby leaves out the part about how the friend who will be moving in there is also a recovering addict, that’s no one’s business but his own. Robby plans on paying the rent up for a few months, knowing Frank will bitch about it but not caring. One less thing Frank has to worry about when he comes home.

Finding affordable yet comfortable furniture is a bit more of a struggle, but Robby refuses to settle for anything that might aggravate Frank’s back. In the end he does manage to find the perfect three piece living room set, and a bed with a mattress so comfortable Robby decides to upgrade his own while he’s at it. All in all he definitely spent more money than Frank will be comfortable with, but he doesn’t regret a thing. The place looks like a home, somewhere he can picture Frank settling into easily over time. He requests Abby’s help with a few photos to have framed and sat around, so Frank knows the place is his and not some space Robby keeps as a bachelor pad. The spare room is left mostly untouched, save for the twin bed and matching dresser. It feels a little too intimate to decorate Frank’s son’s room. Plus, Robby guesses those two could use the bonding experience once Frank is home.

And he comes home today.

In three hours actually. Abby and Tanner are picking him up and dropping him off at his new place. The one Robby rented for him. And furnished. Being a doctor, it’s obvious he has a savior complex, they all have to a little bit. But Robby really feels it with Frank. Providing for him, taking care of him, helping him in any way he can, it’s really all that runs through Robby’s head on a daily basis. He knows he’s down bad, maybe borderline obsessed. But he can’t help it. He hopes that once things settle down and they actually talk, actually work out what is between them, that it will calm down. That his mind will stop fixating on Frank Frank Frank. Wishful thinking, maybe.

To keep himself distracted he cleans his home from top to bottom. When he’s working on wiping off 20 years worth of dust from the windowsill, he spots a gray Toyota pull up and park across the street. He holds his breath, waits for a glimpse of the man that’s carved a spot inside his soul. Soon enough, the passenger door opens and out steps Frank, confusion clearly written all over his face. Should Robby have visited again and told Frank his plan? Probably. But Robby knew he would argue, come up with excuses as to why it was a bad idea. And Robby didn’t have the time nor the patience for that.

He blinks, and when his eyes open again, Frank’s are trained right on him.

____________________________________

Robby not visiting again was a surprise, but not at all at the same time. Frank thought things went well, they had a good visit, but it was still entirely possible that Robby needed time and space to figure out where things went from here. And Frank understood. Really he did. So he kept himself busy and maintained his routine and the last nine days flew by.

On checkout day, he was shocked to see Abby waiting in the lobby, Tanner hiding behind her legs. He honestly thought that Robby would be the one picking him up, even though they had never discussed it. Nonetheless, getting to see his son again after an entire month breathed life into Frank that he didn’t know he was missing.

The drive back to Pitt was spent listening to Tanner recount all of the episodes of Scooby Doo Frank had missed while he was away. Then all about the puppy that sleeps with him but also chewed up his favorite t-rex, so they weren’t currently on speaking terms. He was so enthralled listening to every detail and soaking up the moment, that he didn’t realize he never gave Abby the address of the hotel he was staying at. It’s not until the car stops and the engine cuts out, that Frank looks out to see where they are.

Absolutely nowhere near the hotel he planned on living in for a few months. He turns to ask her what they’re doing here, but she speaks before he can get a word out.

“Come on, out of the car. Welcome home, Dr. Langdon,” she says in that cheerfully teasing voice that always drove Frank insane in the best way possible.

Confused, he steps out onto the sidewalk and takes in his surroundings. The neighborhood looks familiar, but he can’t place exactly why until he turns to look across the street. The building is stone, old but well kept. The dark mahogany door sticks out among the rest, and Frank suddenly remembers stumbling in drunk one night a few years ago. Shame flares in his stomach as he remembers waking Robby up with a phone call and a plea to find him and pick him up. He never did ask Robby how he knew where he was, just so thankful that he picked Frank off the floor of the hole in the wall bar and dragged him home. To Robby’s home. The shift before had been particularly brutal and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the burnt children from a house fire out of his head. The alcohol helped, but by last call, Frank was too out of it to do anything but call someone for help.

Why he chose Robby of all people never made sense to him. It was starting to now, though. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he’s staring right into Robby’s living room, right at the man himself. His stomach flips again, this time from nerves and anxiety.

“What- uh. Where...I mean. I’m living h-here?” Definitely didn’t come off as casual as he was hoping. He’ll have to work on that.

“Yep, look behind you. That one is all yours,” Abby says, pointing to the building immediately behind him.

He feels like an idiot, assuming Robby would want Frank to live with him. They haven’t even talked about them yet. Hell, there isn’t even a them to talk about. Just wishful thinking and fantasies on Frank’s part. So many fantasies.

Frank walks inside and up the stairs to the second floor apartment, and he’s floored when the door opens and it looks...like a home. Furniture neatly arranged, decorations throughout, photos hanging on the walls and sitting on shelves. He lifts one, then another, runs his fingertips over the ones on the walls. They’re all of his family. His son, his parents, even a few of him from when he was younger. Tears well up in his eyes and he turns to thank Abby.

“Oh, it wasn’t me. I mean, I gave him the pictures but Robby asked for them.”

Fuck. Robby made this place so personal to Frank. Got him an oak table because he knows how much Frank hates soft woods. Got him a leather living room set, because Frank mentioned one time that cleaning stains off of fabric is his least favorite thing to do. Everywhere he looks Frank sees the conversations with Robby that lead to this decision and that. He’s overwhelmed with emotion by the time Abby and Tanner leave, plans to go shopping soon to decorate Tanner’s new room already in the making.

Frank debates for all of 30 seconds before he’s grabbing his new apartment keys and heading out the door. It takes him 1 minute and 49 seconds to get to Robby’s door and just as he raises his hand to knock, it opens, revealing a very...nervous looking Robby.

“I know we didn’t talk about it b-,” is all that Robby manages to get out before Frank’s lips are on his.

He means to keep it light, almost hesitant, but before he can pull away Robby has him pulled inside and the door closed, Frank’s back up against the unforgiving wood. It agitates his shoulder, but that’s just a distant ache. He lets out a hmmph before Robby’s lips are sealed over his again, one of his hands on Frank’s hip, the other with a gentle fistful of his hair.

It’s everything Frank has dreamed of. Robby leads, leaves no room for argument as his tongue forces its way past Frank’s lips. It’s messy and intense and so damn good that his head spins. Kissing has always been one of his favorite activities but it’s never felt like this. Never felt like coming home.

They kiss until Robby has to pull away and draw in a shaky breath. His exhale ghosts over Frank’s face and leaves goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t let go of Frank’s hip or hair, instead opting to add another point of contact by resting his forehead against his.

The silence would be awkward if Frank’s brain was online, but fortunately he’s blissfully unaware of anything other than Robby’s touch. Far too soon that touch leaves, and his skin is cold where big, warm hands used to be. It makes him shiver, and that makes Robby take his hand and lead the way to the sofa, where Frank is gently pushed to sit down while Robby disappears. He comes back moments later with a warm mug, gently handing it to Frank before sitting down beside him.

Frank takes a sip of the warm tea and lets the feeling of it wash over him while he takes in his surroundings. He can barely remember what the place looked like when he was here last, drunk off his ass then so hungover that a speckle of light made him nauseous.

Robby’s place is homey. Knickknacks that he probably didn't buy himself are scattered over the tops of tables and shelves. His diplomas are in keepsake frames, again something he likely didn't do, and sat on a small stand by the tv. The rug under their feet is something dark and patterned, but it’s difficult to make out any detail. If anyone had asked Frank to describe what he thought Robby’s place may look like, this wouldn’t be it. But, it still suits the man in some way. It feels like a place someone has been for a long time. A place they’re comfortable in. Safe.

It feels like a place Frank could be safe in too. The realization should make him anxious, or at least a bit nervous, but instead it settles something inside of him that’s been restless for far too long.

They sit in comfortable silence until Robby finishes his tea, gently setting the blue ceramic mug on the coffee table in front of them. He turns his head to look at Frank for the first time since they sat, and makes a shiver run through him once again.

“You’re something, y'know that, Frank,” Robby asks, breaking the silence.

Frank isn’t sure how to respond. If he’s even supposed to. What does anyone say to that?

Fortunately Robby goes on before Frank stutters out a nonsensical response. “I never thought we’d get here. Wasn’t sure I’d ever allow it. But you’re like a magnet, just pulling me towards you. No idea how I ever managed to stay away.”

God, the way he says it. It’s so soft. Almost hesitant but still so confident. Like he knows Frank feels the same way. Like he’s positive this only ends one way.

And fuck if he isn’t so right.

“I-when uh, when Abby dropped me off I thought...like when we pulled up and I realized where we were. Y'know, I uh-was nervous. Giddy. I thought, god this is so stupid,” Frank pauses as he runs a free hand through his hair, “I thought I was living here. With you.”

He can feel the blush spreading up his neck, to his face, past his cheeks and the whole way to the tips of his ears. It’s an embarrassing confession, but he wants Robby to know, to understand, that he feels the same way. That the draw Robby feels isn’t one sided. They were always going to end up here. It was fate.

Frank sees the second it dawns on him. His features get softer, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening even more as a smile spreads wide across his face. “I considered it, for a moment. When you said you’d need a place to stay after you got out. But you need a space that’s yours, Frank. You need to figure out who you are now. As a single father. Sober. Alone. I can’t pick up the pieces every time and make things right. If- if something were to happen, to me I mean, you need to be able to cope on your own.”

The thought of something bad happening to Robby makes Frank’s stomach lurch, the tea from moments ago threatening to spill past his lips. He hasn’t even gotten to love Robby yet, and the man is already talking about the end.

Though, he supposes, that’s what you get for falling in love with an ER doctor. Always a realist.

“I appreciate you thinking about the future but can we uh...not talk about your inevitable demise? Kinda brings down the room.”

Robby smiles again, and Frank wants to kiss him so badly. So he does. Because he can now. He has everything he’s ever wanted. This is what happiness must actually feel like.

_________________________________

Frank suddenly reaching across the couch and smashing his lips against his wasn’t what Robby was expecting. He thought Frank would be more shy, hesitant, at first. Afraid to make the first move, always waiting for invitation or for Robby to initiate. It shocks him, but he’s happy he was wrong. He’s happy that there are still things that he doesn’t know about Frank. Things he can spend the rest of his life learning.

And he fully intends to.

He learns three days later that Frank gets cranky if you wake him up before his alarm. He learns, three weeks after Frank’s release, that he will avoid walking to work if at all possible; instead preferring to drive and sit in traffic while Robby is already nearly to the ED. He learns a month later that Frank is a better teacher than Robby ever gave him credit for. Mel King follows him around like a puppy, absorbing anything and everything he says to her. They’ve created a tight bond, and Robby loves watching them work together like a well oiled machine. If he isn’t careful, Frank could be training his own replacement.

Three months and four days after Frank moves into the apartment Robby rented for him, Robby gets the chance to learn something even more new and exciting about Frank.

His moans. Gasps. The sighs he makes when Robby finally puts his mouth on his cock.

They haven’t done more than heavy petting and making out until now, much to Frank’s ever noticeable disappointment.

“Robby, you're a cock tease.”
“You literally bought me a place to live, but me touching your dick is too far?”
“Come onnnnnnnn, I’m actually dying here. Like I can feel my lifespan shortening. I might actually die before you now.”

He’s a brat, but Robby didn’t have to be dating him to know that. Still, Robby wanted to wait. Not to force him to learn some patience, though that is a nice side effect. But more because he needed Frank to be sure. Frank hadn’t even complained about the apartment, or the furniture, already being paid for. He had just given the most sincere smile and kissed Robby like the only oxygen left in the world was in Robby’s lungs. Robby expected an argument, a small fight at the very least. Some resistance would’ve been fine. He didn’t expect Frank to just graciously accept. And it worried him. What if Frank was with him because he felt like he owed him? Robby couldn’t bear the thought.

So sex was off of the table until Robby could be sure Frank was here for the right reasons. Because if they did this, and then Frank left, Robby would make one final visit to the hospital roof, he’s sure of it.

Now, listening to the sounds Frank makes as Robby licks and sucks his cock? Robby is already addicted, and forgetting why he ever thought this was a bad idea in the first place. He swirls his tongue over the head, through the slit, and watches Frank’s face. It contorts in pleasure, head thrown back and mouth agape. He’s gone quiet, and Robby can’t have that.

His hand replaces his mouth and that earns him a whimper that goes straight to his own cock. If he was ten years younger this would be over embarrassingly quickly. With his right hand working on drawing as many moans as possible out of Frank, Robby’s left hand wraps tightly around the toned muscle of Frank’s thigh and pushes. He’s startled for just a second before he understands what Robby’s goal is, and then he’s holding both of his thighs high, so Robby can get to what he’s dying to try.

The first swipe of his tongue across Frank’s hole makes the man below him shiver. The second makes him gasp, a new one that Robby files away in his memory. The third makes him beg.

“Robby, Robby please. God fuck please. I need- I- please.”

And fuck if Robby isn’t hopeless to give him everything he wants and more. He continues to stroke Frank’s cock as he eats him out, working one, then two, then three fingers in alongside his tongue.

“Fuck baby, you’re gonna feel so good around me,” Robby mumbles out while he gives his jaw a break. His now four fingers work their way in and out of Frank’s body, stretching him impossibly wide around them. His other hand has stopped for now, instead holding Frank open so Robby can watch as he fills him with his fingers. He’s going to look like sin around his cock.

Frank hasn’t stopped making desperate little noises since the third finger was added. Moaning and whining and wiggling around like that will get him what he wants. If anything, it makes Robby slow down even more, interested in what other noises he can pull from his boyfriend. Fortunately for Frank, Robby is just as desperate for it as he is, and the slow torture will have to wait for another day. Robby’s dick has been steadily leaking onto the sheets below since Frank started to beg. There’s no denying how it’s affecting him.

He removes his fingers one at a time, mesmerized by the space left in their absence. His cock jumps at the thought of just fucking into him now, carving out a space inside of Frank that is all his. All Robby’s.

Possessiveness flares, white hot and desperate inside of him and he can’t wait any longer. He pats around on the bed until he finds the lube and adds more to his hand, slicking up his cock until he’s sure he won’t hurt Frank. He glances up and sees the younger man watching him, mouth open and pupils blown wide. He looks like he’s already been fucked within an inch of his life and Robby hasn’t even gotten his cock inside of him yet. Fuck.

The first press of his cock into Frank is slow and torturous. The second his head pops in past the tight ring of muscle, Robby has to stop and breathe for a second. The heat is overwhelming, and Frank’s face is better than any porn he’s ever watched. He gets about halfway when Frank finally makes a noise. A whine escapes him followed by a litany of curses.

“I- oh fuck Robby fuck. I don’t think it’s gonna fit. Goddddd.” He draws out the last word, head thrown back and eyes squeezed tight.

Robby’s dick throbs inside of him, pride and lust swirling around in his head, clouding his thoughts. “Shh baby. It’ll fit. Be a good boy and relax for me. You can take it.” He rubs Frank’s stomach in soothing apology, even as he keeps pushing forward. His words have the desired effect, as Frank’s body loosens up and his muscles relax. It does nothing to quell Robby’s aching desire to fuck him senseless, tho. In fact, it might even make it worse. Frank listened so well, did as Robby said with no hesitation, no question. Like he was made to take exactly what Robby is willing to give.

And Robby is willing to give him everything.

After an eternity, Robby is finally fully engulfed in the tight, wet heat and knows this will be his favorite thing from now on. Robby will give Frank this any time he asks. Anywhere. It’s primal, the way he feels like he belongs here. Inside of Frank, in Robby’s bed. He gives him as much time as he can to adjust before he slowly pulls back, watching Frank’s face. He looks like he’s in heaven, pleasure written over all of his features. Robby gets the overwhelming urge to kiss him, so when he pushes back in, he does exactly that. Leaning over to reach Frank’s lips slightly changes something, the angle maybe, and on the next slow stroke in, Frank moans low and long into Robby’s mouth.

The kisses turn sloppier as Robby’s pace picks up, and soon they’re just breathing in each other’s exhales while Frank takes everything Robby gives him. Sweat pools in the hollows of Frank’s clavicle and Robby dips his head down to lick the taste of salt and Frank away. If Robby had his way, he’d stay like this forever. Keep Frank on his cock, drunk on the endorphins and high on lust. He suddenly understands how someone as intelligent as Frank could become an addict. He feels the need to do this again and again already and neither of them have even come yet.

Not that Frank isn’t close. His nails rake down Robby’s back, legs wrapped tight around his waist as if to keep him from going anywhere. As if there’s anywhere else Robby ever wants to be. Robby takes one hand, the one that’s had a handful of Frank’s hair since he bent down for the kiss, and slowly trails it down Frank’s abdomen. His nail catches on Frank’s nipple, earning him a hiss and Frank’s ass squeezing tight around his dick. His hand slows when it gets to Frank’s stomach, and he swears he can feel a bulge where his dick has carved out a spot inside just for him. Frank’s stomach contracts, and he lets out a high pitched whine that makes Robby lose his rhythm.

“Please, please Robby I can’t. I can’t take it anymore please, please let me come Robby please please please-,” Robby cuts him off with a hand wrapped around his dripping cock. Any words Frank has to say are lost as Robby’s hand works over the head then down the shaft, dragging the wetness down with it. Frank’s hands move from Robby’s back to his chest and shoulders, like Frank isn’t sure if he wants to pull him closer or push him away. It’s heady, intoxicating in a way sex hasn’t been in decades. Suddenly Robby needs to come now, like his mind just caught up with what his body has been doing for the last half hour.

He strokes Frank’s cock and thumbs the head on the upstroke, setting a relentless pace with his hips as he fucks him, hitting his prostate dead on. Frank’s eyes roll back into his head and Robby’s sure this is it, that he’s finally going to hear and see and feel what it’s like when Frank comes, but instead he quickly squeezes his eyes shut and paws at Robby’s chest.

His words come out desperate, pleading, “I c-can’t Robby. I gotta. You have to- please. If you don’t lemme come you gotta stop. I’m gonna. Oh fuck fuck please.”

The realization of what Frank is talking about hits Robby like a ton of bricks and suddenly he’s seconds away from coming before his partner, something that hasn’t happened since a very memorable night in med school.

“You’ve been so good, holding back for me. Letting me have you. Come for me, baby.”

Blessedly Robby was right, and the permission sends Frank over the edge almost immediately, painting Robby’s hand and Frank’s own stomach in his release. The moans and gasps of his orgasm are quickly followed by a little giggle, and Robby looks up from the mess on his stomach to watch as Frank goes slacked jawed and sated beneath him. Robby’s own orgasm washes over him like fire, cleansing away any guilt or hesitation left lingering in the air.

In the aftermath, when Frank has been washed up and Robby catches his breath, they both lay side by side in silence. Naturally, Frank is the first to break it, never able to keep his mouth shut for longer than a minute at a time. “Can’t believe we could’ve been doing that for months.”

Robby chuckles, rolling to his side and propping his head on his hand, “You never would’ve been that patient months ago. Would’ve shot off like a high school kid during his first time.”

Frank’s offended face makes Robby’s smile grow even wider. He’s so in love.

“You forced us to wait because you don’t think I’m patient enough!? This was a lesson?! I thought you weren’t Dr. Robinavitch, Attending, at home huh,” he asks, all snark and sass. Robby wants to fuck it out of him again.

Yeah, he could be addicted.

He lifts his other hand from its place on his stomach and runs his thumb along Frank’s jawline and lips. “Point is, I’m proud of you, Frank. Seriously. You’ve worked hard and...I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.”

He just had Robby’s dick spearing him open but the words of praise are what make him blush, a beautiful red tinting his cheeks. He leans up to kiss him and Robby forgets how they got here. The heartache and time and questions that plagued them at the start. It all led them to this; this moment, this kiss, so intimate and knowing. Saying all of the words that neither are quite ready to speak.

They kiss until the kisses turn into yawns that turn into laughs as they finally part and settle in for bed. The sun has long set, and the remnants of a full moon shine bright through the curtains, allowing Robby one last peek at the man in his bed. His features are so sharp and masculine but in the moonlight, in Robby’s bed, he’s soft and breakable. Something to be protected and cherished, even if he doesn’t believe it himself. He wraps his arm around his waist and pulls his back flush to Robby’s front, a small sigh the only sign that Frank even noticed being repositioned. Falling asleep at the drop of a hat is an important skill for a doctor, one that Robby so tragically never got the hang of.

Instead, he’ll listen to the even breathing of his boyfriend next to him and think about what’s to come. What new things he can learn about Frank. What surprises could be in store. He counts future opportunities like sheep until sleep finally takes him, pulling him under and into dreams of Frank and a house, and a puppy all their own.