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This was a stupid idea. It was so saccharine and syrupy sweet and lacking in dignity that Robby didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He wasn’t even that big of a fan of festivals—all this started when he was in the break room for a necessary cup of black coffee, saw a colorful poster hanging on the bulletin board for something taking place at the park nearby, pointed it out to Jesse, and said, “Wonder what that’s all about.”
Neither of them was being totally serious. Little did he know, Jesse had a soft spot for communal merrymaking if it meant he got to destress from the grotesque nature of their shifts, which led to where they are now, in line for the Ferris wheel with a bag of roasted peanuts and pink cotton candy in each hand. Maybe he meant it a little more than Robby did, on second thought. Robby’s trying not to show how bored he is at all of this—the colorful lights of rides and food stands illuminating the dark skies, the small children pulling their parents arms to and fro, the honeyed aroma of funnel cake wafting in the air—and Jesse, on the other hand, is fighting to not show the level of brimming excitement he feels inside. Lest he wants to break his streak of casual nonchalance, his expression remains quietly neutral, taking in the sights around him instead.
As Robby starts to get into the rhythm, he's awkwardly swaying around, getting cotton candy stuck in his beard and on his shirt, struggling to find a stable footing. It’s both slightly irritating and, oddly enough, charming, so Jesse doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t give it more thought than it needs, and the line moves again.
Robby glances at him for a moment, then looks away. This little thing of his has got him so penitent and red in the face that all he can do is try to throw away the idea, and take another bite of his cotton candy instead. Perhaps he should also open his little bag of peanuts, just to keep himself preoccupied and distracted. When he brings his hand with the paper cone between two fingers to untie the bag, a hand grabs ahold of his arm, and he’s met with Jesse smiling at him, his casual expression highlighted by the LEDs placed all around.
“Our turn now,” he says, some other words spoken as well, but Robby’s too busy trying to get the sticky floss into his mouth rather than around it to pay close attention. He mumbles something in agreement, following Jesse into the small metal gate and into the seat. Pink and sticky, as apparently that was the constant.
Jesse doesn’t seem bothered at all. It’s possible he’s just so thrilled to be here that the grime of a worn-out seat in a shabby booth doesn’t even register for him, though he looks as calm and collected as ever. Robby can’t help but wish he could feel as excited about carnivals as he knows other people are. But Robby’s never really liked them—not circuses, not zoos, not at all. To him, everything feels overly contrived, just a bunch of junk and sugary treats, entertainers, children running around, and mediocre rides that do little more than whip you around fast enough to make you feel like a fly is getting lodged in your eye or throat. Robby shuts his mouth, trying to wipe the disgruntled look off his face.
“Have you been in one of these before?” Jesse asks, scooching in his seat so he’s comfortably sitting on Robby’s right side, who has realized the position he’s in right now. He’d been too carried away, grouching internally to sense that he was already halfway up the already-moving wheel.
“One time, yeah,” he sighs, while fiddling with the cotton candy stick.
Jesse hums, a light smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and Robby wants nothing more than to turn his head and gaze at the man in complete and utter admiration. His head remains fixed at the view ahead, trying to enjoy being able to see the entire park from here.
With a stifled laugh and a quiet little “woo!” from being at this altitude, Jesse asks, “And when was that?”
Robby wants to tell him that they’re only a few dozen feet high up now, but he keeps his words to himself. “I must’ve been sixteen, probably. Didn’t really like it, if I’m being honest.” He hopes he isn’t bringing the mood down with his tone, as Jesse seemed more stoked about the whole thing than Robby did. It’d shine through the cracks in his demeanor, in the way he’d point out the different types of corn dogs this one truck was selling near the entrance—a little too excitedly. And here they were, tired, old legs dangling from the open-air cart, tickled by the cool, nightly summer breeze.
Jesse shrugs. “Maybe this time won’t be as bad,” he says, nudging Robby’s side with an elbow when he doesn’t give a response.
“Now that you say that, this is pretty alright, Jesse,” Robby says, finally taking a good look at him. He can’t help but smile at him, accentuating the lines adorning the corners of his eyes when he does so, once he takes some more time to enjoy this moment and find that it’s better than pretty alright.
Little wisps of clouds scattered around the dark sky—look up and you’ll see stars, and down, there are thousands of tiny lights and dots of people’s heads making their way through the fair. Robby starts to lean into the festivity and lets himself smile at the sight.
“So you’re into it?” Jesse asks, nudging Robby once again, this time with that smile, wrinkles accentuated by the flickering, colorful lights on the rim of the wheel—that smile that makes Robby feel like the luckiest and most unfortunate person in Pittsburgh, simultaneously. It felt hilarious in how cruel it was, having these feelings trapped inside for so long. On the surface, it seemed like nurse Jesse Van Horn was one of the few people he had a genuine rapport with outside of being professional, but it had become something else entirely, and Robby had been kicking himself for it. What else was he supposed to do with tonight’s plans, though? Say no? Especially when he wasn’t sure whether this could even reach friends as a title, much less more than that.
“Yeah, I am,” Robby chuckles lowly, eating the rest of his cotton candy in a few more bites, crumpling the thin paper stick into his pocket when he’s finished with it. “Didn’t think I’d be saying this, but I’m glad you dragged me here. It’s really not as bad as I thought.”
“It’s nice from up here,” Jesse says, half to himself and half to Robby next to him, as they go up again, away from the blaring music and the flashing lights from below. “You see those stars over there?” he questions, half-heartedly resting his hand on top of Robby’s on the metal railing, and it just… stays there.
Robby’s breath hitches as he tries to swallow it down and maintain the same calmness he had just a minute before. If he doesn’t move, then maybe Jesse won’t notice that they’re basically holding hands right now. His fingers twitch while they’re on top of Robby’s, and his mind drifts to dangerous territory—what if it was on purpose?
“Where?” he asks, then feeling his expression soften as he finds that this is a whole lot more enjoyable than it was just an hour ago when the two of them were buying their tickets at the entrance. There was something lovely about it, almost romantic—if Robby ever wanted to go down that point of no return, not that he wasn’t familiar with walking the tight rope where he’d risk plunging into full infatuation with his total heartthrob of a coworker. Thankfully for him, he’d grown exceptionally skilled at making himself forget he had those thoughts at all when the time called for it.
However, here he was now, sitting in a goddamn Ferris wheel late at night when he’s supposed to be heading off to bed in preparation for another shift tomorrow, and he feels completely justified in doing so. If it weren’t for Jesse’s sardonic request that they come here, because it’d be so fucking hilarious if they did, then Robby wouldn’t be in this position. Figuratively and literally, as they had done another round again, and were at the apex of the wheel.
“They’re right by the moon,” Jesse points out. Robby follows the direction of his finger and sees a group of stars, some brighter than others, some dimmer. He has a hunch that he should know what sign they’re a part of thanks to Trinity, but he couldn’t figure out the name.
“Think I see ‘em now.”
“They’re nice.”
Robby hums in agreement, and without realizing, his hand is over Jesse’s rather than the other way around. Robby doesn’t remember when this happened, and he panics for a second before he settles into the warm touch and realizes he couldn’t take his hand away even if he wanted to.
“I’m glad we went out, even though you know I’m not really big on… this stuff.”
“Me too, man. Me too,” Jesse laughs alongside Robby, who couldn’t stop himself from turning his head to watch Jesse smile, radiant in its brevity.
Then, Robby does what he swore he wouldn’t do. “You wanna know something?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad it’s you I went with. Up here,” Robby says, swallowing dryly, then turning back to the stars and focusing on the way they twinkle, blue and yellow and white in the sky, right by the full moon. “Glad it’s you,” he murmurs again, closer this time, making sure it’s heard. He feels his cheeks grow uncomfortably warm in embarrassment, now that he’s gotten the first stage of disorientation that comes with a night out, just him and Jesse.
“Not sure I know what you’re tryin’ to say, Robinavitch,” is the reply that comes out of Jesse’s mouth, and Robby wishes he hadn’t said anything about that damn carnival flyer, as that would’ve saved him the embarrassment that’s about to wash over him now. On a Ferris wheel, no less.
“I suppose… you’re great to be around, y’know? You’re a decent guy, and—”
“Oh, for crying out loud, man. Ride’s almost over, might as well try and enjoy it for what it is before we reach the ground,” Jesse cuts him off, laughing slightly, his tone upbeat despite his words, “unless you wanted to finish what you were gonna say.”
Robby wants to give him a brotherly jab with an elbow for being a little shit, but he resists, instead shoving his hands into the pockets of the hood he has on. He wondered how Jesse could read him and instinctively know he had something else to admit.
“Fuck off, Jesse. I try to be open for once, and I get hit with this.”
“Huh—what’s going on? What were you gonna say?” Jesse asks, as he throws an arm around Robby’s shoulders, squeezing him, Robby relenting from within at the embrace, not minding so much about what their friendship might mean after this.
“Fine, I really like you, and not in a you’re-my-best-nurse way. I do.”
“Well, I like you a lot, too, Robby, you’re one of the only people at that damn trauma center who doesn’t get on my nerves. Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, confusion clear in his voice, though he’s amused. “Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Let me put it this way,” Robby starts, scratching the back of his head with the hand that isn’t locked between him and Jesse. “If we were to start as good friends, this would be the part I’d ask to get to know my way around your place. Really commit it to memory.”
It takes Jesse a second for it to register. Robby takes a deep breath and clenches his eyes shut. “Y’know what, that—we can just pretend that never happened.”
“Oh, but it did,” Jesse quips, a glimmer of knowing playfulness reflecting in his eyes. He’s delighted, leaning in just enough for Robby to pull back if need be, until—
“Ride’s over. Let’s go,” Robby interjects, breaking away from Jesse’s touch and hopping out of the Ferris wheel seat, picking the first stand he sees to dart toward. “Saw this milk jug toss booth I’ve been itching to try since we got here.”
“Hey, Robby, wait!” Jesse calls after him, and while Robby hears him, he doesn’t feel he can stop, or he’d have to face what he’d just done. His legs are unsteady, and his heartbeat is at an all-time high, and he knows that if he were to turn back, he’d fall at Jesse’s feet, and he’d have to carry him home.
“How about I try and win you one of those giant teddy bears?” he calls out, and Jesse sighs now that he’s caught up to Robby, exasperated. Once they get to the striped booth, Robby pays the fee and grips the first baseball with a shaking hand.
He’s trying. As in, really trying to keep his composure as if he hadn’t just admitted to his coworker that he had it bad for him. His attempt at focusing on the task ends up ineffective, as he misses. Horribly. Jesse tries not to snicker, covering his mouth with a fist as he stands, watching Robby as the ball smacks nowhere near the jugs.
Robby feels himself being surveilled, eyes practically pinning him down, rendering him unable to keep his cool around the nurse. He misses again, and again. The vendor looks elated as Robby hands him more cash, hell-bent on getting the oversized teddy bear for Jesse as reparations for potentially spoiling whatever it was they had together. The baseballs are flying all over the place, and when they do land on the edge of the jug’s opening, it teeters to the outside.
He shoots the last of the balls of this round, and it looks like it might be the winning shot—until it falls once again, joining the other losses.
“Robby, it’s alright.”
He exhales sharply. “I suture wounds, and that requires a lot of precision,” he gestures wildly with his hands. “I don’t understand why this is so hard.”
Jesse pats Robby’s back gently, the touch, while fleeting, sending sparks that could only be compared to a defibrillator, and he’s wildly aware of everything now. As if he weren’t already, his senses have been on overdrive since the wheel. He embraces it, though the aftermath, the walk home, was uncertain.
“I’ll get it for you,” Jesse states, with an air of quiet confidence in his voice.
“No, I wanted to win it for you,” says Robby, in protest, surrendered to the fact that he was completely smitten and had no way out of it.
“Looks like I’ll have to win it for you to give to me, then.”
Jesse pays for another round, exchanging the bills for a hefty baseball in his hand. He eyes the opening of the jug with intent, like it owes him. The narrowness is a trap, meant to instill doubt, making way for faulty throws. With the distance, this one’s made to be almost impossible, guaranteeing a bounce off the edge. There’s just enough space in the low ceiling of the booth for Jesse to make a successful, high-arching, backspin toss to get the ball to stick the landing, and he weighs the ball in his hand before calculating his desired speed and the perfect angle. He focuses in on it.
Fwip. He made it in.
The vendor stares at Jesse, peers into the jug to make sure the ball was a real one and not one manifested into space, convinced he was just dreaming. He isn’t. He excuses himself to fish the oversized teddy bear from where it hung on display. This was real life, and in all his unspoken, adept competence, Jesse just won the milk jug toss. Robby looks on with awe and a heightened respect, clapping his hands together slowly.
“For you,” Jesse says, grinning as he hands Robby the stuffed animal with a wink that nearly makes Robby fall to his achy knees. “A bear for my favorite bear.”
“Oh, stop it,” Robby says, laughing softly, really smiling now. He tucks the stuffed animal under his arm, enlightened by how poorly it fits, being way too big even for a man his size. With the plush fur against his fingers, Robby is just about ready to head off and forget the whole confessing to your favorite nurse deal that mortified him. Clearly, Jesse wasn’t about to let it go. Perhaps he took glee in seeing the attending—the usual big boss of the trauma center—flustered like this, and the fact that it’s all because of him.
“Robby,” he starts, once the music is just a murmur in the distance and they’re walking on the sidewalk away from where the festival is happening, walking towards where their rideshare would meet them.
“Uh-huh, Jesse?” is what he’d wanted to say before he—trailing in front—turned around to face him. He doesn’t get to say his piece, as his lips are put to use quickly by a kiss. One that’s welcome, hot, unrestrained. Reassuring to any doubts in Robby’s mind in a way that was downright delicious, a hunger that he’d been denying himself for months.
It only lasts a few seconds, with Jesse’s agile hands cupping Robby’s face, bringing him closer, securing the taste of each other’s breath even when they part.
“Whoa there, that’s… um, wow,” Robby manages after a moment where his thoughts became garbled, from the adrenaline his body has been running on to the high he just came down from. He couldn’t move out of Jesse’s space, and he’d never want to. “What now?”
Jesse grins and shrugs as he brings a hand to the back of Robby’s head, carding through the short, fine hairs cropped on the sides. “Think I’d like to get to know your place a little more.”