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“Didn’t I tell you it was going to rain?”
Whitaker lets a sheepish smile tug at the corner of his lips as he looks up over at Robby when they exit through the ER doors at the end of their shift and are met with wet pavement and a soft late summer shower in the air.
The rain is light, barely dusting their shoulders as they start to walk across the street and their pace settles into a familiar stride on the sidewalk.
“Yes, you did.” Robby says, voice relenting as he tilts his head. The corner of his mouth twists, hiding a pout under his greying beard.
The look makes Whitaker’s belly warm, the banter they’ve accumulated over the last year of knowing each other and the last few months of dating makes his cheeks grin in spite of the mist of rain that settles over them with the wind.
“And what did you say?” He says, keeping his voice light and obliviously curious even though his eyes twitch up at Robby teasingly.
Robby shoots him an unimpressed but amused look from his left, the pout turning more pronounced on his lips as he tightens the grip he has on his backpack strap.
“That it wasn’t going to.” Robby says confidently, leaning into Whitaker to speak the words low over his forehead as he braces into the wind and rain picking up around them.
Whitaker leans back, toying with the lighthearted teasing in the air between them. It’s a result of the twelve hour shift that they just finished, while relatively good was long and tiring. One that had him waiting for the moment the clock struck 7pm just so he could go home and spend the next two days alone with Robby in bed.
He remembers the conversation this morning coming in, the smell of it in the air, in the wind. The promise of change. Robby hadn’t believed him when he said he’s been accurately guessing weather patterns since he was six years old, running around barefoot in the fields alongside his father’s horses.
Looking back up at him now, Whitaker lets the smirk he’s been holding back develop over his face. He bites his lip, meeting Robby’s eye with a flirtatious smile.
“And that you were still going to park five blocks away no matter what.” He says, reminding him of their earlier conversation as he moves closer to him to brush his shoulder against Robby’s arm.
The temperature outside has cooled with the rain and the bare skin of his elbow shivers when it meets the soft, familiar material of Robby’s hoodie.
Goosebumps erupt over his skin for more than one reason when Robby sends him a wolfish grin.
“Yes.” Robby says, nodding and moving that same arm out to settle around Whitaker’s shoulders. His hand rubs at the exposed skin of his bicep under his scrub top almost absentmindedly and his voice comes out confident and coy again. “And that I was still going to park five blocks away no matter what.”
Whitaker grins broadly up at him before shaking his head in a laugh and looking out over the night, the city alive and busy in front of them despite the rain.
Robby’s chest rumbles in a laugh of his own, warm and solid against his arm and back and Whitaker leans into him unconsciously.
He moves his own arm out from between the two of them and squeezes Robby’s waist and Whitaker feels a kiss pressed to his temple. Warm breath drifts over the damp flush of his cheek.
“Yeah.” Robby says, soft and cooing just like he does in the early morning light between sheets, just like he does in the middle of midday rounds when Whitaker comes over and updates him on a patient’s progress. “You were right, baby.”
And just like every time the other man uses that tone, that endearment, Whitaker flushes with pride and affection. The praise, the attention to his movements and details always make him feel like he's something special. Like he’s something valuable and useful and worthy. It makes him feel fearless. Finishing med school, starting his internship year in the same ER, starting this thing with Robby outside the hospital. Just being in the presence of this guy next to him makes him feel unstoppable.
And Whitaker has seen that go both ways. Robby is lighter, and somehow even more approachable and caring than that first day last year. He’s not egotistical enough to think that it’s all his doing, he knows Robby has put in the work, has dedicated himself and has set his mental health as a top priority. But when the sweet nothings at night turn into I couldn’t do this without you and I wouldn’t even want to it’s hard not to brag about it even just a little bit. Even just to himself.
They walk on quietly after that, steps sure and focused yet still lounging and unhurried in the mist of the late night rain. It’s just enough to cool the streets down, just enough to notice.
And then the bottom falls out.
The downpour is so sudden that the both of them stop, feet halting a block away from where Robby’s truck is parked.
Slightly dumbfounded, Whitaker looks up at him with a gaped open mouth that’s quickly catching raindrops. His skin is instantly drenched and he wishes briefly that he was as committed to wearing a hoodie every day as Robby was.
Robby meets his gaze, eyes matching his own shock and bewilderment. His hand moves to settle in the curve of Whitaker’s shoulder and he watches at the raindrops collect in the corners of his eyes and dips of his cheeks.
Their eyes lock for a moment and their mouths slowly turn up in unison, laughter echoing out from their chests so loud that an older lady hurrying along next to them with an umbrella shoots them a dirty look.
Robby and Whitaker ignore her, laughing still as they, after one shared knowing look, start running down the sidewalk like little kids. Whitaker grips his own backpack tight and grabs Robby’s hand in his when the other man drops his arm from around his shoulder.
Palm against palm and with cold wet rain barreling into his face, Whitaker does feel like he’s a kid again running through open fields without a care in the world. Nothing matters but the wind in his face and the ground beneath his feet. He can’t believe he can add and the person holding his hand to that list of childhood fantasies that have come true.
He laughs, sudden and bright and almost stops then to ask Robby if he'd want to dance right there in the middle of the road. He doesn't but he thinks he knows what the answer would be anyway.
When they stop at Robby’s truck, both gasping and shaking for breath the heavy rain continues to fall down around them loud against the side of the vehicle and the pavement below.
Whitaker looks up at Robby as he leans back against the passenger door. He watches as Robby’s attention moves from fluttering around with their bags to the sudden stillness and magic shifting in the air between them.
His face is light, grin open and childlike himself as he meets his gaze and Whitaker can’t help but let go of his hand to grab him by the lapels of his hoodie to pull him closer.
Robby’s eyes drop down to watch his mouth and Whitaker grins again, feeling that rain soaking his hair to his forehead but he doesn’t care. Here in the rain, in the arms of the man he loves, he can do anything. He can be anything. And he will be adored all the same.
Robby leans down, lifting a hand up to cradle the side of his jaw as their lips meet in a kiss that is as soft and as magical and as wet as the rain on their skin.
Whitaker leans into him like he always seems to do, tightening his grip on his hoodie as he opens his mouth to deepen the next kiss.
The scruff of Robby’s beard scratches the skin of his cupid’s bow, of his chin in such an electric touch that it should have become familiar to him by now and it is and yet the feeling of it still washes over him like it’s the first time every time.
He shivers into the next kiss as it happens, the two of them starting to smile against the other’s lips so wide that the kiss turns into just breathing into one another’s mouths. Their breath would fog up around them if they weren’t out in the middle of the sidewalk still. The rain around them pours harder.
Robby pulls back first, fingers moving down to rub at his biceps. His large hands are warm even with raindrops of his own dotting them and they bring the blood flow back up to his arms and the cold wet metal of the car door at his back seems like a distant memory.
“Let’s go home and get you warmed up.” Robby whispers against his lips, eyes crinkling and shining and promising as water drops fall off his nose and cheeks like diamonds.
Whitaker grins, nodding as he drops the grip he has on his hoodie to turn around. He lets Robby open up the passenger door behind him, taking both of their bags in hand to throw in the backseat and he moves, following the instruction with both his head and his heart held out first.