Chapter Text
Michael Robinavich is a simple man. At least- that’s what he would call himself. His many past partners may have different takes, depending on the ending of the relationship; some of the more amicable exes would call him…particular, while some of the...less amicable ones would call him obsessive fucking compulsive.
But is it really his fault he knows what he wants? What he likes? It’s not his fault that they don’t understand. So it’s just better in the long-run for everyone involved that Robby stays single. Then he doesn’t get in stupid fights over people moving his shoes, or his glasses. Doesn’t get irrationally upset over someone else breathing too loudly near him when he’s trying to relax. Everyone says he’ll get over it, that when he finds the right person, he’ll change his mind. As of right now, he’s perfectly fine with his bachelor life; he’s too old to be getting into “complicated” relationships, to be hooking up with random nurses that traipse through the ED or young interns with little to no sense of self-preservation. Even if it is tempting. He’s just not a young buck anymore. He hasn’t been able to get it up as quickly, or finish in a reasonable amount of time.
Maybe it’s just time to accept he’s going to be single forever. His grandmother would be scolding him for speaking like that, if she were still alive- telling him he’ll find someone to settle down with, a nice boy or girl, alpha or omega, beta even, it doesn’t matter, it’s the 2020’s! He’d sigh and hunch his shoulders and appease her, telling her she’s right. Maybe the right person will come along eventually. But secretly, he’d know. It’s just how things are when you spend your youth being an emotionally avoidant player.
Besides. He doesn’t need a romantic relationship to feel complete. He has plenty of platonic, familial relationships in his life. Jake (as strained as their relationship has been since Pittfest). Jack. Dana. His neighbor, also named Michael, who he drives to temple every week. And his job keeps him busy enough the rest of the time that he doesn't really worry about it much.
Like right now.
“I saw your human stress ball on the roof last night, by the way.”
Robby blinks. It’s shift change, the day and night shift mingling as they pass over patients before Robby’s crew finally leaves. The day had been slow, and long, and they’d made little progress on the swaths of people in the waiting room. Jack had already given him gripe about it, and was scanning the board for cases he could easily discharge before getting to major cases, when he speaks. He doesn’t look at Robby as he does, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the board. Old bastard needs to remember his fucking glasses.
“Excuse me?”
“Your human stress ball. That pup of an intern you squeeze and push around like one of those Mr. Stretch toys. Whittaker. Saw him on the roof. You might want to have a talk with him- didn’t think you guys had a rough shift yesterday, but something must’ve shaken him if it sent him up there.” Jack looks at Robby, then, looking unimpressed; Robby always keeps an eye on his staff, makes sure they’re keeping up on their physical and mental health. Especially Whittaker. He’s very much judging Robby for not noticing Whittaker’s apparent downward spiral. Robby’s judging himself. The kid was on the roof?
“Serious?”
“As a heart attack. You should go find him before he leaves, make sure he’s not gonna try and take another nose-dive any time soon.”
Robby nods, scrubs a hand over his face and through his beard with a groan. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks, man. That’s exactly what I want to hear after a twelve hour shift. Couldn’t tell me this this morning? Before he was working on patients all day?”
Jack shrugs. Turns back to the board, though he holds his hands out for Robby’s reading glasses, which Robby hands over with a sigh.
“...He said he wouldn’t do it again. Seemed fine when I saw him come in this morning. A bit embarrassed. But still.”
Robby rolls his eyes. Doesn’t justify Jack with another response as he turns on his heel and scans the ED for the intern in question. It’s not hard to find him. He’s handing off a chart to Dr. Shen, running a hand through his sweat-matted curls, looking ready to drop dead. The last half of the shift had been especially rough on Whittaker, who found himself working compressions on three separate incoming traumas, needing two scrub changes in two hours, and getting verbally accosted by an angry patient’s loved one. As soon as he’s done with Dr. Shen he disappears immediately down the hall and towards the lockers, and Robby follows, like a shadow.
“Whittaker.” Robby can’t help but smirk as the kid jumps a mile in the air at his voice, though he tries to hide it as he motions with his chin for Whittaker to follow him. He doesn’t turn to see if he’s being followed- he already knows he is.
The break room is, luckily, empty when they enter. Robby motions for Whittaker to sit at the table, which he does, fidgeting nervously. Even though scent patches are mandated in the hospital, and no one can visibly see the kid’s an omega, sometimes Robby thinks it’s so damn easy to tell. Not that he’s ever asked. That would be rude. He could very well be a beta. But still. Looking at him, at his nervous affect, it’s pretty easy to at least assume.
“Is there something you needed, Dr. Robby?”
“There is,” Robby says with a sigh. He cracks his knuckles as he leans against the counter, looking at Whittaker. He doesn’t seem any more worn down than usual. How had he missed him feeling suicidal? “...Dr. Abbot spoke to me a few minutes ago about something he witnessed last night at shift change. Said he saw you on the roof.”
Whittaker looks at Robby, nodding along as he speaks, though he freezes when he mentions the roof. His eyes widen.
“...He- He…did?”
Robby nods. “He did. And, hey, kid, I just want you to know that you are not alone. Okay? Everybody has rough shifts, everybody has days where they feel helpless, like they aren’t doing anything to help anyone. I do too; I’m just sorry I didn’t seem to notice you feeling that way.”
Whittaker’s eyes widen impossibly more, practically bugging out of his head, which he’s shaking violently. “Nononono- Oh my god, no, sir, I- I wasn’t-”
“You weren’t?”
“No! God, no!” Whittaker’s voice rises for a moment, high-pitched and embarrassed, before he flushes and lowers his voice. “...No, sir, I wasn’t. I…I wasn’t even supposed to be up there. I just heard a noise on my way somewhere else, and I got curious, so I went to see what was going on…Dr. Abbot saw me and gave me a pep-talk before I could even explain myself, bought me dinner and sent me home. I couldn’t even get a word in to tell him I wasn’t coming up there to jump, I was just coming to see what he was doing up there.”
That…That’s at least somewhat comforting. Jack just jumped to conclusions- he’s pretty damn good at that. But…
“Okay. Good. Good. But…What were you doing in the stairwells after shift, so close to the roof that you heard him come up there? There's no reason to be up there at that time of night.”
Whittaker flounders for a moment, eyes shifting, like he’s debating whether to lie or not. Then, his shoulders slump, and he sighs. “...I was going up to the eighth floor. The abandoned wing.”
Robby frowns. Before he can speak, Whittaker is speaking again, almost too quick for Robby to understand-
“I- I’m not homeless, I’m not squatting up there, I swear! I live with Dr. Santos, you know that. I just- I go up there sometimes after work, ‘cause Trinity likes to spend some alone time with Yola- Dr. Gar- her girlfriend after shift, and we have really thin walls, so like I hear everything and smell everything. And I’m not being homophobic because they’re both girls, or both alphas, it’s just that Trinity is like a sister to me, so the scent is like actually physically repulsive to me, and sure, I could ask her to go to Yo- Dr. Ga- her girlfriend’s house, but that just feels wrong, considering the fact that I lived in her apartment for ten months rent free, so I just go somewhere else until the apartment airs out, and I’m so sorry, it’ll-”
“Whittaker.”
“-never happen again, I’ll find somewhere else to go, it'll-”
“Whittaker.”
“-be fine, please don’t fire me-”
“Whittaker!”
Whittaker’s mouth snaps shut with an audible snap of his teeth. He swallows, and Robby can’t help but watch the bob of his adam’s apple as he does so.
“Listen,” Robby starts. “I feel for you. I do. But you know you can’t be up there. Right?”
Whittaker nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Dr. Abbot you weren’t trying to kill yourself, so that’s cleared up, and you’ll…I dunno. Find a coffee shop or something to go to while you wait for your apartment to…air out in the evenings. Got it?”
Robby almost feels bad. The poor thing looks like he's about to cry. “...Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Good.” Robby stands, but Whittaker doesn’t, and he pauses. “...Is that not a good enough solution for you?”
Whittaker, who had been staring at the table trying not to cry, lifts his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Is that not a good enough solution for you?” Robby repeats. “A coffee shop or a bar or something?”
“I…No, it’s a good solution, thank you for trying to help,” Whittaker says, and he swallows again, licking his lips. Robby licks his own lips in return. “I just- uh- I know I’m a resident now, and I’m getting paid real money instead of just a med student’s stipend, but I, uh…I have a lot of student loans, and I’m starting to pay Trinity rent, and I want to pay her back rent for when I was living there rent-free…she says I don’t have to, but it feels wrong not to, it’s not how I was raised. So, like, I’m still just as broke as I was before. I can’t exactly afford to go out every night, even just to get a coffee or a beer and loiter. I’d go to the library, but by time I get off shift it’s closed. But- You don’t need to hear about my roommate issues, Dr. Robby, I- I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t go back up to the abandoned wing.”
That…Jesus. The kid’s catholic, midwest guilt is literally overwhelming, even to Robby.
“...Right. Well, uh- Glad we had this talk.”
“Yeah. Have a good night, Dr. Robby.”
“You too, Whittaker.”
Robby heads back out into the ED though the main door, while Whittaker slinks back to the lockers, and that should be that. Robby has no reason to worry about the kid anymore. They cleared up that he wasn’t going to kill himself, he’s just hiding from the scent of his alpha roommate having sex with his girlfriend, and that should be the extent of Robby’s role in this. He relays as much to Jack, who is draining an abscess that Robby’s been avoiding all day, before heading out himself.
It’s not too cold at night, yet, only being September, but it’s enough for him to shiver and shove his hands in his pockets as he puts in his headphones and begins his walk home.
Only to freeze when he crosses the street to cross through the park and finds his resident sat on a park bench, without a jacket, scrolling through his phone.
“...Ah, fuck.” He sighs. He really shouldn’t be even considering this. “Hey, Whittaker! Get your ass over here. You’re coming home with me.”