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Robby doesn't usually bring a change of clothes to work. He always runs in and out of the hospital with his jacket, scrub top, and cargo pants.
Today is not an average day. He's probably added an extra five pounds to his clothes with all the grime and viscera.
It's an entirely natural part of the job, par for the course, but that doesn't negate how gross he feels. He's just fortunate that there's still a spare set of clothes in his locker. His self from seven months ago deserves some praise.
In the changing room, Robby yanks his shirt off. The door behind him bangs open. Startled, his shoulders jump as he looks over.
"Oh, uhm—sorry," Whitaker stammers.
"No worries. Good job today."
"Thanks, you as well."
Robby's hands work through the motion of changing one pair of cargo pants for another. He thinks about his grocery list. The fact that they're low on the protein bars he doesn't even like.
Well, they're not for Robby, anyway.
"Oh."
Shirt in hands, Robby looks over to Whitaker. He's staring at Robby's collarbone with such an intense focus, he can only feel confused. Or, maybe it's concern that borders on wigged out.
"I didn't know you were married, Dr. Robby."
Robby looks down at his chest. On a long chain, his golden ring sits just beneath his Star of David.
The weight of his ring has dwindled over the years. His skin practically has intertwined itself with the gold, fusing into one whole.
He's only ever aware when his spouse's hands are on him. When those thin fingers spread wide across his pecs, and the edge of the gold catches on a nail, and kisses litter down Robby's chest and—
"Been a long time," he says in lieu of anything else.
"That's great—that you found someone, I mean."
Robby huffs a laugh. He hasn't received a congratulations for this marriage in years. It's like dusting off an old box in the attic and finding a high school trophy.
"Thank you."
Robby shucks a new shirt on and zips up his jacket. He already feels a hundred times better. Cleaner and lighter like washing the dirt off a sponge.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get going."
"Before your partner gets mad?"
It's difficult to imagine his partner as anything but their true self. Patient and understanding, almost bordering on too much.
Still, they have their days. Times when even his partner's patience grows thin, and by the time Robby's arrived home, his partner waits by the front door and nearly tackles him.
It's an annoyance he's doesn't want to be without.
"Exactly."
Langdon pries open the door to Central Nine. An older woman peers up at him with nervous eyes. Her hands drop the blanket she is fidgeting with.
"Uhm—hello, Doctor."
"Hi, Mrs. Florence. How are you doing?"
"These days, I'm doing alright."
"That's good. My name's Dr. Langdon. Do you mind if I take a look at your injury?"
She nods. He moves back the sheet covering her leg with a slow pull, taking a moment to examine the road rash. A rough fall on her cement stairs by the outside garden, the file says.
"I'm glad you came in today."
She nods, and a shy smile curls on his lips.
They strike idle conversation as he tends to her wound. Makes sure there aren't open cuts that could lead to an infection.
"Are you allowed to wear your ring?"
Langdon looks up at her, and an ache knots in the back of his neck. His eyes peer down to the silver band around his finger.
"As a doctor—I mean," she adds, worried tone.
He smiles. The ring gleams back at him.
"So long as I keep it clean."
Her eyes wander down to the wound. His gloved finger smooths over the coarse skin. The muscle beneath him twitches.
"Uhm—so you are married?"
"I am."
"Oh, that's wonderful! It's so hard for folks to meet nowadays."
Langdon huffs a laugh. He didn't really meet his spouse more so than step on their toes the first day of his intern year.
"You could say that."
The door creaks open. Langdon looks up, expecting one of the nurses calling him for a trauma. It's almost been a whole twenty minutes since the last one.
"How's it going in here?"
Robby leans inside, an arm resting on the doorway above his head.
"Good. Just cleaning up Mrs. Florence's wound."
Usually, this would be when Robby steps back. Nod at Langdon's assessment and head off to check another room.
That's not what he does, because apparently, today is the day for surprises and miracles.
Robby shuts the door behind him with a careful, deliberate softness that makes Langdon smile. He examines the computer, scrolling through Mrs. Florence's short file.
"Hello, Mrs. Florence, my name is Dr. Robinavitch. Everyone here calls me Dr. Robby."
"Oh, hi."
The clicking sounds of Robby filtering through her digital file fill the room. It's one of those slower days where an attending and the chief of the ER could ideally work on the same stable patient for more than two minutes.
Robby comes to the side of the bed. He looks at her wandering eyes, then down at the abrasive wound.
"Doing some daredevil stunts?" He asks.
That cracks a smile from Mrs. Florence. She keeps her eyes up, huffing.
"I was going to water the flowers in my back garden."
Robby nods his head towards Langdon. "Let me have a look at this young lady."
"Oh, flatterer," she mutters, but her easy smile makes Robby's nonsensical comment worth it.
Langdon degloves and plops himself in the guest chair on the other side of the bed. It's sort of hypnotizing to watch Robby work. He slides his hands into the gloves like turning on a switch.
As Robby probes her leg, examining the debris lodged inside, Langdon taps the bedsheet for Mrs. Florence's attention.
"You could look at me," Langdon suggests, "if it becomes too much."
Mrs. Florence nods. Her eyes scatter every which way as she swallows. Langdon tries his best to instill some courage in her, nodding.
"How—how is your wife?" She asks, voice hurried.
Langdon swallows. He looks to Robby, who is doing a very fine impression of pretending like he isn't listening.
"Husband, actually."
"Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me to make assumptions like that."
Langdon waves a hand. "It happens, no worry. My husband is…he's good."
She hums, fingers slowing down where they're gripped in the sheets. A distraction, then, is what this fun line of questioning must be.
"Have you two been together for a long time?"
Langdon thinks before nodding. "You know what they say. When you know, you know."
"What does he do?"
Langdon looks towards Robby once more. His strong, efficient hands working over the rubble of Mrs. Florence's leg. The strong line of his shoulders where he's hunched over, back surely aching. His narrowed eyes as he analyzes his next steps, and the careful and disciplined way he carries himself.
Langdon smiles.
"Not much."
Robby watches Langdon's lithe body. Hiding underneath the thin scrap of his scrubs is toned muscle. His quiet strength peaks out from the sleeves of his top as he stretches against the hub.
"So, just to confirm. You've never heard of spelunking?" Langdon asks.
"No, and I'm not sure I understand the appeal. And it isn't some kind of research or sex thing?"
Langdon turns his back to the counter. He places two arms on the hub, stretching his back a different way.
Robby thinks that in polite conversation, he should be keeping his eyes on Langdon's face. To not linger where he ought not to.
Good thing Langdon is just rambling about some topic he learned, and that this does not charter anywhere near polite conversation.
"That's exactly it, Robby. It's completely recreational."
"Then, why—"
The doors to the ambulance bay shuck wide open. Two EMTs push a gurney through, gloves bloodied.
"I got this," Langdon says, already gunning for the trauma room.
Robby is left to nod at Langdon's retreating back—the back that he hopes doesn't creak as much as it had this morning.
"Robby!"
Robby whirls his head around from the hub. Langdon runs up to him, limbs flailing like he's drowning.
"What's the matter?"
"Hold this," Langdon says.
He shoves a fist onto Robby's chest. Gives Robby half a second to catch whatever was in his hand before following the gurney to Trauma Room One.
Princess and Perlah peek over the counter. Their intrigue is almost tangible.
"What is it?" Princess asks.
Robby unfurls his fingers. In the middle of his palm sits Langdon's silver wedding ring.
"Is that the new ring?" Perlah asks.
"Yep." Robby says.
"Why'd he hand it to you?"
Probably because Langdon's been meaning to get it resized. The band doesn't fit like it used to.
"Because, Dr. Langdon's a bit of an idiot," Robby says instead.
Langdon has been working at PTMC for several years. Actually, his time is closing in on almost a decade. That being said, he's a lot closer to his peers now than he ever was during his residency.
He assumes its his mellowed out personality. Recovery has slowed him down—made him reflect and take in other people's words and feelings.
McKay's relayed a similar feeling during her first few years of recovery, too. She's shared as much over their monthly nights out. Turns out, there's a lot more sober people at PTMC than Langdon realized.
The welcoming feeling their group inspires creates a fuzzy home in Langdon's chest. It took a long time to feel a sense of belonging again.
This has helped. Community. Sharing compassion and grievances alike.
He loses track of time. As he checks his phone, Langdon shoots up from his chair.
"Gotta head out before the husband gets mad," he says, wrangling himself into his jacket.
"Oh, controlling," he hears someone say with a sly, drawn out tone.
Langdon huffs a laugh. He brushes the comment off his shoulders.
It's difficult to imagine his husband as 'controlling.'
At least, controlling in a way that Langdon does not like. Really, more times than not, Langdon's the one submitting all the control, almost shoving it away like he's burned by its touch.
Now is not the best time to be thinking about his husband and submission. He'll think about that in half an hour when he's in his arms.
"I'll head out with you," McKay says.
Langdon waits for her outside the booth as she gathers her bag and phone. He waits until they're outside the restaurant to speak.
"You never walk out with me," Langdon says.
The thing about McKay is that she's a horrible liar. She doesn't hide much from her face. It's an admirable trait, but also a terrible one if she wants to get away with lying.
Like right now.
"I just wanted to head out too."
"Uh-huh."
She sighs. "Look, I'm not trying to pry."
"Said the prier."
"But, I guess I'm just curious."
"About?"
She shrugs, like she hadn't expected to get this far.
"What's he like?"
"Who?" Langdon asks in a tone that makes him think that maybe he's not too great at lying either.
"Your man."
She shoves her arm into his. An immediate warmth spreads through him, like one match lighting another. Her joy is infectious.
"Impatient," Langdon admits. "Grumpy. Honestly, he can be a dick, sometimes."
McKay takes a second to process that. File it into her teensy mental drawer with all the other tidbits of information about his husband that he's slipped into conversation.
Langdon is not sure what sort of image she's painting in her head, but he's sure he would find endless hours of amusement at the senile depiction she must have.
"He sounds dreamy."
Langdon smiles, and not because McKay's joy is infectious.
"Yeah, he is. That's why I gotta get going home to him."
"Lets set up a day where I can meet this dreamy man."
Langdon's feet stall in the gravel parking lot. The very humorous idea of bringing McKay into his home—his husband's, since his name is the one on the mortgage, but on an even more technical level, both of their names are on the title—to find him fighting back sleep on the couch as he rereads a chapter of his novel that he keeps forgetting he's read despite his insistence to Langdon that he's making good progress.
Actually, that's probably what he is doing right this second.
McKay's mouth gapes, and he presumes she's a little stunned at his contemplative silence.
"C'mon, you've met Chad."
"Treating your shitty ex as a patient is not the same as…whatever you're suggesting."
She scoffs. "I'm not going to third-wheel your date. Y'know, just thought I'd meet the man."
He has the sense she wants to add a 'finally' to the end of that sentence. Maybe it is a long time coming. She's one of the closest things he can call a friend.
Her friendship resembles what he thinks a healthy relationship with his actually distant sister would look like.
Tense, he nods. "He's a—a pretty private person, but I want you to meet him too."
Her eyes light up. "Really?"
"You asked. Why are you so surprised?"
She waves her hand like it's not important. Langdon holds his arms open, hoping. She hesitates before reeling her arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug. When his arms circle around her back, he squeezes hard enough to get her to hit him on the shoulder.
Yeah, it's definitely time. The two people closest in his life deserve to know that fact. He'll bring it up tonight.
His phone vibrates in his back pocket. He reaches and finds a message from Abbot. Langdon scoffs, but a smile curls on his face.
"What's up?" McKay asks, head angled towards his phone.
"Boys' night out gone wrong," he says. "Time to go play designated driver."
McKay chuckles. "You have fun with that."
Robby's schedule never aligns with Abbot's days off. Every overlap seems to be met with a 'wait, I can't do Thursday.'
They both know it's Abbot who is to blame. It's in his nature to jam pack his schedule so danger can't creep its way in during any lingering free time.
But, when Robby wishes on a star and he finds a horseshoe, him and Abbot hide out at one of the local sports bars and chat the night away.
They swap stories of work, rumors they hear and pretend not to, Abbot's extracurricular activities and Robby's bike that he's been fixing up as his new hobby. It's hardly their deepest conversation. Robby wouldn't even place it in the top fiftieth, but he feels refreshed. He doesn't remember the last time they just sat down and had a good laugh like this. "And how's the backyard project going?"
Robby thinks back on his last free weekend. How he spent the evening repairing the porch and replacing the moldy wooden planks.
All he can remember is how useless his husband had been. The renovation was meant for the safety of his children, but he sat on the lounge chair talking Robby's ear off instead helping.
Actually, he had impeded Robby's work, as well, handing him the wrong size screw or running an obviously distracting hand up Robby's damp neck.
"Don't call OSHA to come check, but it's coming together."
"Michael Robinavitch tackling home renovation. Look at you go. Your guy helping you out with that?"
Robby's laugh spills from his mouth, an accidentally gargantuan noise.
"Hell no. Been more of a pain in my ass than anything."
Abbot grins, raising a drink to that. Robby tampers down his own smile to clink their drinks together.
"Well, from what you've told me about him, I'm sure this was a project that needed to be finished."
He rolls his eyes, but there's some truth that strikes him. A few years ago, he doesn't think he would have cared about the state of his cramped bachelor pad.
Now, Robby lives in a house that's worth fixing, with his husband who's worth a few hard days of physical labor. He's attained luxuries in life he didn't even know were worth living for.
When Robby knocks back his third beer, his eyes drift open lazily. A handsome man heads their way. It takes him a few, very long seconds to keep his dirty mouth shut.
Robby's mind is a powerful tool. He must have summoned him by pure thought alone.
"Dr. Langdon," Robby coos. "Thought you didn't drink?"
Langdon smiles down at him, which is odd, because usually their at eye-level. Robby fixes his posture on the bar stool.
"Never mind, what're you orderin'? Put it on my tab."
"I'm not here to drink." Langdon says.
Robby blinks. Some time must have passed, because Langdon's staring at him like he's gone through evolution and grown a second head.
Langdon swallows, smiling softly. "I'm here for you?"
Oh.
He knows what's happening. Robby doesn't want to say it's not the alcohol that's clogging the part of his brain that produces words and sets his body on fire from the inside out, so he won't say anything at all.
Robby has free will, goddamnit. He chooses to stare at Langdon and his beady blue eyes.
He hears a laugh from behind him. Robby looks over his shoulder with a glare.
"You call him to drive me home?" Robby accuses.
"That's exactly what I did," Abbot says.
Robby feigns betrayal, clutching his fingers in the fabric of his shirt.
"You were my brother, Abbot," Robby drones.
"Are you saying I'd be Anakin?" Abbot asks, but he's grinning. "Shame on you, man. You know I'd kill as Han Solo."
"The charm's gotten old."
"No, it hasn't."
He watches Langdon roll his eyes, but there's a light smile on his face that Robby can't stop staring at.
Langdon reaches out and runs a flat hand across the top of Robby's shoulders. It takes far too much strength to not lean so far into his touch that he stumbles backwards off the stool.
"Alright, Obi-Wan. Time to get back to saving the universe."
"Is that what you call lounging on the couch these days?" Abbot asks.
Robby does not respond to that, because saying anything to that accusation would just prove that that's exactly his plan.
"See you tomorrow," Robby says, waving.
Abbot nods his head as he takes another sip of his drink. Robby leaves the bar, hand hovering over Langdon's lower back to keep himself steady.
"Easy does it," Langdon murmurs, and his voice sends a flare of heat shooting up his neck.
The cool night air blasts against Robby's neck. His shoulders scrunch up, but it's useless. He curls into the closest heat he can find.
"Wow, you alright?" Langdon asks. "You're rocking like a ship, man."
Robby looks down to find his arm entwined into the nook of Langdon's elbow. Langdon attempts to meet his eyes, but they're the same height. All he has to do is…look.
The thought hits Robby like a freight train, blaring loud at him to get out of the fucking crossroads. He wants to go home. He wants Langdon to come home with him.
He wants to go to bed.
He wants Langdon to be in that bed with him.
Langdon's face shifts, a grin breaking out. "Yeah, we're going. C'mon."
Robby's not sure what inspired that, but he doesn't mind handing the reigns over for a bit. It's nice to be led and not have to worry about what comes next.
They reach Langdon's shitty car, the same one Robby keeps insisting on replacing, in just a few steps. Langdon adjusts his grasp around Robby's waist. All Robby can feel is the warmth of his fingers bleeding into Robby's skin.
Langdon props open the door and gently lowers Robby inside. He tries to swing Robby's legs inside, but goddamnit, he's not that intoxicated.
"I got it, I got it," Robby grumbles, settling himself in.
He stretches his legs out, sighing. It takes a few moments to realize Langdon is still hovering outside the door, one arm sitting on the low roof of the car.
"What?" Robby asks. "Not gonna tuck me in?"
With a stupid smile, Langdon leans into the car. He smooths a hand on the car's seatbelt over Robby's chest. His pinky drags across Robby's shirt as he buckles him in.
Robby…fuck. He's not sure where the thought is coming from, but he really wants to kiss Langdon right now. Too bad this ridiculous safety seatbelt is keeping him strapped in. It's the only thing stopping him.
"Want a lullaby, too?" Langdon asks.
"Fuck off."
And, Langdon grins. He hops into the driver's seat and hums the same song he's had stuck in his head all day long.
Langdon tosses his bookbag inside his locker. He rolls up the sleeves of his jacket before shutting the door. Before he starts his shift, he spends a few minutes stretching.
A figure entering the hallway catches his eyes. Langdon smiles down as they pass by each other.
"Hey, Mel," he says.
"Oh, good morning, Dr. Langdon."
"You get a chance to try that café yesterday?"
Her eye light up. "It was really good! Thank you for the recommendation."
He nods. "No problem."
As he begins to turn the corner into the central lobby, Mel's eyes linger on him. He stops, looking over his shoulder.
"What's up?" He asks.
"Is that Dr. Robby's jacket?"
By association, Langdon claims it as his own, but on a technical level, he didn't purchase the jacket. He did pull it from his partner's side of the closet this morning, so for today, the jacket belongs to Langdon.
It's too damn cold outside to not wear one, no matter how hot his body runs.
"He—uhh. Let me borrow it."
"That's really nice of him. The snow storm outside is getting pretty bad."
Langdon tells this interaction to Robby later for no particular reason other than to share his day. Robby's thick beard doesn't hide the amused smile curling on his lips.
"It's not funny," Langdon whines.
"It's a little funny."
"No one ever points out what you have on."
As if to rub in the point, Robby dusts his hand over the collar of his black scrub top. His fingers brush against the thin slip of his undershirt that peaks through. It's an alarmingly bright shade of yellow that Robby would never own.
Langdon would, though.
"I'm not that interesting to look at."
"I disagree."
Robby looks down from the patient board with furrowed eyebrows. The light pink brushing his cheeks is a nice addition to his otherwise scornful expression.
"If you have enough time to flirt, maybe you should pick up some more patients."
Langdon grins, taking a step closer against the counter instead of doing what he's told. He's very good at that.
"My partner wouldn't mind," Langdon coos. "What's a little harmless banter between coworkers?"
Robby raises an eyebrow. "Now it's my turn to disagree. This is fun. North Five, get to it."
Rolling his eyes, Langdon waves off Robby and tramples down the hallway. By the time he reaches his new patient, he has managed to stamp down his grin into a soft smile.
"Robby," Perlah says in the door way.
He sighs. This day can't possibly get any worse. If she's coming in with a doctor to let him know the heavy ache in his chest is pneumonia, he may just quit out of humiliation.
"Yeah, come in."
Perlah enters, and there is a doctor behind her. It's not a doctor with his test results, he presumes. That would be unethical.
"Dr. Langdon," Robby says, voice quiet.
The smile on Langdon's lips brings a different, deeper ache to Robby's chest. He coughs into his elbow. When he reopens his eyes, Langdon has teleported into the chair by the hospital's bed.
"Your results should be back soon," Perlah says.
"Not if I know this place," Robby grumbles under his breath.
She chuckles with him, but she doesn't deny it. Instead, she shuts the door behind her and leaves Langdon and him to stare at each other in the deafening silence of the room.
His anger betrays him, slipping through his fingers with every eyelash beat on Langdon's face. He hates his own breath. His air even leaves him in a shaky exhale.
"How'd you find out?" Robby asks.
Langdon smiles, not unkind in the way Robby deserves right now.
"I have my ways."
Robby wants to fiddle with the blanket. Do something that feels more productive than wanting to reach out to Langdon. His body is on fire burn, and the blanket is too much.
"Will you be honest with me?" Langdon asks.
"When am I not?"
Langdon looks at him like he could list off many of Robby's lies of omission.
"Did you pick a fight last night to have a reason to sleep on the couch?"
The answer to that question blares loud in his head. Robby chooses to stare at his clasped fingers instead.
"I was serious about keeping the bathroom counter clean," Robby says.
Langdon has the gall to roll his eyes. Robby almost wants to punch him, push at him a little to keep him away.
"And I told you that I'll keep my word. No more messy bathroom counters," Langdon agrees.
"Great."
Langdon continues to stare like he's getting paid for it. "I'm getting you out of here."
"I can drive myself."
"But, do you want to?"
Robby picks at the skin of a hang nail. The line between the air and his finger start to blur into a fuzzy, dull sensation.
Langdon lays the back of his hand against Robby's forehead. He doesn't think Langdon has ever been so cold before.
"Temp of 102.4. That can't be fun," Langdon adds. "Just say you want to be alone, and I'll give you the keys."
Fuck Langdon. Fuck Langdon and all the intricate information he has about Robby and how he knows just what to say. It's a violation of his natural born rights, probably.
Robby presses his mouth together into an unkind, mocking smile. Langdon smiles back with all the kindness for the both of them.
"You nap, while I make soup."
When Langdon stands up, his body curls over Robby's form. His body heat is almost too much. Robby sways into Langdon's space, much like digging his own grave.
He thinks Langdon's going to kiss him. He thinks Langdon wants to as well before he remembers himself. The buzz of the ER is loud even through the thick walls.
Instead, Langdon squeezes Robby's hands. Tight and secure like he's not going to let Robby fall out of his grasp.
"You're going to get sick," Robby says, voice strained.
Langdon huffs. He doesn't let go of Robby's hand. He's not dirty or too much for Langdon.
"If we get to that point, you can take care of me," Langdon says. "For now, let me do this."
For the first time all day, Robby lets his eyes fall shut, knowing his safety net is beneath him.
Langdon's dreams are nice. He can't catch hold of what is actually happening. The strange concepts unraveling around him sweep him off his feet, not unlike a water slide.
He doesn't realize it's over until he's drenched and at the other end of the plastic slope with a racing heart.
Or, until he's blinking his eyes open and staring a handsome man straight in the face.
"Langdon," Robby murmurs. "Gotta get up. Night shift's taking over now."
The hand on Langdon's shoulder insists, but it's also warm and seeps into Langdon's skin. Robby fingers soothe the freckles on his arm, moving back and forth under the fabric of his sleeve.
"Seriously?" Langdon muffles into the pillow.
It's not the comfiest, and his back sure as hell doesn't appreciate the hospital's dingy mattress, but his dreams still clings onto him like he has any chance of falling back asleep.
"It's just one night shift."
"But, you won't be there."
Robby huffs. "I know. Baby."
"You're sweet."
"That wasn't me being sweet. It was a nickname. I'm saying you're a big baby."
Langdon feels himself grin. Maybe it's instinct, but his body arches up. Thinks that Robby's about to plant a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his lips, his neck—
"Nap time's over," a voice calls from the drawn curtain.
Through a squint, he sees Dana standing with her arms crossed.
"And you were supposed to leave half an hour ago," she says, eyeing Robby.
Robby holds his hands up, and Langdon has to keep down a whine when he realizes Robby has stepped much further away from the bed.
"Consider me not even here," Robby says.
"Well, be snappy with it. We've got a multi-car collision heading our way, and it's all hands on deck."
Before Langdon has the chance to defend himself, Dana shucks the curtain closed again. He takes a moment to stretch. His back arches off the bed, arms thrown high above his head.
When Langdon opens his eyes, Robby's staring down at him.
"See you at home?" Langdon asks.
"You know I'll be there."
Langdon smiles. "Good."
Finally, Robby leans down and presses a kiss to Langdon's lips.
"Tease," he murmurs into Langdon's lips.
Langdon smiles into the kiss. "It's why you married me."