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"You're yawning," Robby's voice interrupts his thoughts so suddenly, that his chin slips off his palm and his head jerks down. Robby snorts out a quiet laugh. When Frank turns to him, the crow's feet are still crinkling the corners of Robby's eyes. Well, he's glad he can be a source of amusement.
"Yeah, well, this has been a double for me, so…" Frank looks at the clock at the bottom of the screen and groans. Charting time does not pass. At least it's quiet. He looks around the ED before his eyes fall on the little plastic Christmas tree in front of him. Dana has forbidden him to hit the button again. His fingers twitch with temptation.
At the same time, he realizes that he shouldn't show how tired he is, not even tonight. Propping his head up makes him look bored and he's had more than one talk about that already. Purposely or not, Robby has done him a favor pointing it out the way he did. Frank straightens, feels the strain in his back from being hunched over for however long he's been sitting like that. Another yawn breaks free, this one wide and jaw-popping. "Jesus."
Robby looks at him sideways over the rims of his glasses. "That the guy in North 5?," he jokes lamely.
"Hah. Not anymore," Frank exclaims with some satisfaction, knowing exactly who Robby is referring to. Glad for the distraction, he turns towards his attending. "Cleared him and sent him on his way home to his family."
"Good," Dana's voice comes from behind them. She bustles between them and drops a chart off next to Frank. "That Santa costume threw me off," she says and taps the chart. "That one's done, too. Get typing."
Frank tugs the chart a few inches closer towards himself to see whose it is, but does nothing else with it. Instead, he bends backwards a little to see if that fixes his stiff back. "I need a break."
Dana rounds the nursing station to stand right in front of him. "You staring at that screen for the last half hour was your break."
No, no it wasn't. He does not agree. "Didn't feel like one. And the letters on the screen are getting blurry, too. Hey, maybe we should check me out, get me a bed, maybe a blanket," he fantasizes. They should monitor him for a bit, just in case. Someone could turn the lights off, shut the door…
"Get you a sandwich, too?"
Frank looks at Robby with his best, most loving half-mast eyes. In front of them, Dana chuckles and turns away. "Good luck with that," she calls over her shoulder.
"Of those fever dream ideas, the sandwich is the only realistic thing that might happen," Robby says. And just as Frank's brain makes the connection and offers the perfect joke about how maybe they should monitor him in South three for that fever dream, Robby shakes his head exasperatedly. "Don't even joke about that." No, he knows he shouldn't.
"I can do this," he tells them both - himself and Robby - and turns back to the computer. And while he was kidding about the letters getting blurry, concentrating on what he's supposed to be doing here, stays impossible. He feels another yawn start in the back of his throat and does his best to hold it back. His eyes water.
Robby makes a disgusted noise in his throat and murmurs, "Watching you do that is like watching a snake swallow a mouse."
Frank does not need that image in his mind right now. He shakes himself and tries again. He types a few words, remembers what he administered, how he treated the guy in North 5, and does his best to focus. His knee twitches. Next to him, Robby puts his glasses away and rustles in his pockets, before he steps up to Frank. "Come here," he says quietly and looks around, before he pulls Frank towards him. Frank gets up, glad for the change in posture, and stretches - as if that would make the twinge in his back go away. It doesn't, not really, but it feels good. Robby is solid and broad in front of him, sturdy, like a rock. Frank often wishes he had that kind of calm energy.
Robby moves again and slowly, telegraphing his movements, slides one of his earpods in Frank's ear. A faint, familiar Louis Armstrong melody is already playing. Robby puts the other pod in his own ear, before he brings a sure arm around Frank's lower back. Frank does the same, sliding his arm over Robby's, glad for the heat coming off the other man.
Frank is not ashamed how quickly he melts against Robby, how he uses that shoulder as a pillow. His forehead touches Robby's neck and he feels the familiar scratch of beard against his skin.
"Close your eyes," Robby instructs and sways them slowly in the rhythm of the music. They shuffle together, side to side, with a little turn. "Deep breaths." Frank groans quietly in protest, because he does not need to be coddled or… swaddled, or whatever this is, but it does help. He focuses on his breathing and with it, the small, puffing sound his exhalations make between his nose and Robby's shirt. A strong hand slides under his scrub top, under his T-shirt, before it holds him warm and dry in exactly the spot that feels tight. Sure fingertips find the surgical scars there and, using them as a guide, press into the tissue and muscles next to them, up and down, before they are replaced by a flat palm. Frank melts even more. They sway a while longer, just the two of them, no one else around. Armstrong sings about a wonderful world and for a moment, that's exactly what it is.
When the song is over, Robby brings him back around and Frank tilts his head back. The overhead lights feel blinding for a moment.
"You okay?" Robby asks.
"More than okay," he replies with a firm nod. "Thank you."
"Ready to get back to charting?"
Frank nods and sits back down. He can do this, even if that little dance has made him even sleepier than he was before.
Suddenly, Robby leans in close, pretending he's reaching for something, and pushes the button on the Christmas tree. It starts blinking and dancing animatedly, the mechanical whirring of the motor its only sound. On leaning back, Robby presses a kiss to his temple and says quietly, "Two more hours until Jack picks us up."
Before Frank can react, Robby has taken a chart and is gone, on his way to do his rounds. Frank focuses on the charts again, calmer now, feeling more aligned somehow, like Robby straightened out some sort of zig zag inside of him.
"What have I told you about that tree?" Dana suddenly shouts from across the room. Frank keeps his eyes on the screen, but raises his arms to show his outrage and innocence.