Work Text:
“Yo, Huckleberry,” Santos says with a smirk, knocking sideways into Whitaker. He looks back at her with an expression of startled betrayal, which never gets old.
“That hurt,” he rubs at his arm, and Trinity rolls her eyes.
“Oh grow up, baby. It won’t even bruise,”
“That’s what you said last time,”
“And I apologised, didn’t I?” she raises her arms in a half shrug, then puts them back on the side, narrowly avoiding a nurse walking past pushing a trolley of supplies. Dennis looks over her shoulder with an atoning wince, no doubt placating her newest enemy, and then sighs, turning back to her.
“What do you want,”
“That was almost mean! You’re learning,” she marvels, and raises her eyebrows in mirth at the poke she receives back. “Anyway I had a game,”
“Not again,” he whines.
“You’ll like this one!”
He looks up at the board like he wants an incoming trauma to take him far far away. She sympathises, she really does, but unfortunately if there is a God, She’s long forsaken them way down here in the Pitt.
“Fuck, marry kill. Attendings. Go,”
“Trinity!” Huckleberry yelps, and she slaps his arm.
“Don’t go telling everyone! Give me your answers!”
“I can’t!” he says, like he’s scandalised. He’s got thicker skin than that though; just last week he walked in on Yolanda doing unspeakable things with her tongue on the living room sofa, and he almost went to get the cereal anyway. It was probably the eye contact that did him in.
“Fine, I’ll go. Fuck Parker, marry Shen, kill Robby.”
“You can’t kill Robby!” Whitaker hisses.
She shrugs. “It’s him or Abbot, and they’re pretty much conjoined twins anyway. Besides, I’m more interested in what Ellis and I could get up to. She’s gotta be lesbian, right?”
“I- how would I know? Wait, why are you marrying Shen?” Dennis sputters.
“We’d be a great lavender marriage. Besides, he’s good looking, I bet he’d be chill with me bringing home the girls. How much do you wanna bet I could talk him into a threesome?”
“Nothing- I don’t want to bet on- Trinity! What if somebody hears you?”
“They can join in too. Fuck, marry, kill?” she adds in Filipino, winking at Princess, who is definitely eavesdropping.
The nurse walks over with a considering face, and pauses behind them just long enough to go “Fuck Robby, marry Abbot, kill Shen. I could get me a salt and pepper sandwich any day,”
Santos snorts, then outright cackles at the look on Whitaker’s face, like a rabbit who’s just been forced to think about his coworkers having sex.
“I’ll do yours for you. Fuck Robby, marry Robby, kill Abbot,”
“What- No!” he slaps her right back, enough that her arm almost stings. “I don’t want to play!”
“You just want a clean sweep, huh,” she winks, and his face goes bright red.
“They’re like mentors!” he squeaks out.
“Sure, sure,” Santos placates, a little bored, but her face brightens as she sees a blonde figure passing in the background. “Hey, I bet I can get Mel. Mel!”
“No, don’t-“
It’s a quiet shift.
Not quiet in the way of curses, but quiet in the lack of his staff being anywhere nearby where they’re supposed to be. He slows to a halt in the middle of the emergency room, and looks around to see that no, it’s not his imagination. There are barely any doctors on the floor, and the nurses are looking thin on the ground too.
“Did the rapture happen while I wasn’t looking, or is it somebody’s birthday today?” he asks Dana, the sole survivor of the room.
“I’m a god-fearing Christian, the rapture would’ve taken my ass,” she remarks, and he nods in agreement.
“Yeah, my Jewish soul might be beyond saving. I’m gonna check for cake,”
“You do that. And bring some back for me, why dontcha,”
“Youu got it!” he shoots her a quick thumbs up, and heads over towards the break room, head on a swivel just in case he’s actually gone blind. Well, blind in a way that his reading glasses can’t fix.
The break room is empty, besides Bob the mannequin, creatively posed with a smattering of unopened ketchup packets for blood.
“You’d tell me if you knew where they were, right?” he asks Bob, who says nothing. He adds another ketchup packet to the pile in retaliation.
The Pitt is not the biggest place in the world. It’s certainly not big enough to hide a group of 10-15 full grown adults, giggling in a corner over…
“Last I checked, I was the one calling the meetings. Did I miss a memo…?” he says loudly, and has the joy of watching the vast majority of his people jump sky high at the sound of his voice.
“Robby! We were just, ah,” Donnie starts, and then folds under no pressure. “Yeah, I got nothing,”
“McCay? Collins? You wanna tell me anything?” he tries, aiming for his most sensible residents first.
Collins looks up calmly, regarding him with an amused eyebrow, and shakes her head. “No, I really don’t,” she says, and walks away. Right. He doesn’t really have any authority there.
“Mohan? Whitaker?”
Mohan is too busy trying to keep a straight face, while Whitaker is as red as a fire truck. Despite himself, Robby is doing his best not to laugh at them all, because whatever he’s stumbled across, it is highly entertaining.
“Doctor Robby?” Santos pipes up, and he looks across to meet her eyes. She’s not even trying to hide her shit-eating grin, not even as a few more of the group peal away while he’s not looking, as though he doesn’t know exactly who had been here.
“Fuck, marry kill. Tournament style. We’re up to Abbot, Myrna and Shamsi, go,”
Robby blinks, processing that information for a moment, long enough for Javadi to go “That’s my mother!” and practically sprint away.
“I don’t think this is a very appropriate game to be playing in the workplace,” he says in way of response.
Trinity rolls her eyes, and points around. “There’s nobody else here, I know you want to answer,”
“Incorrect on two counts,” Robby replies dryly.
“I said fuck Abbot, marry doctor Shamsi, and-“
“I think I get the pattern, thank you,” Robby cuts her off, before she can actively make threats against a patient while still on shift, in the hospital. “How long have you guys been up to this?”
“Far too long,” McKay smiles a little, her eyebrows pinched in her way of quiet concern and amusement, and dips on the conversation as well.
“You don’t have to say it, just give me a nod if I’m right. Fuck doctor Shamsi, marry Abbot, kill-“
“Once again, nope. Don’t you have patients to see?” Robby holds up a hand, shaking his head in bemusement at the youth of today.
Santos frowns for a moment, wrongfooted. “You wouldn’t marry Abbot?”
“Okay, in this hypothetical situation, that I am not considering, Jack is a pain in my backside. I’m old fashioned, marriage is about taking care of each other.”
“…Shamsi?” Santos voices, looking a little flabbergasted, while Whitaker’s eyes dart to the side, giving him the barest moment to prepare himself for-
“You don’t think I can take care of you?” Jack says, standing right behind Robby, almost whispering it into his ear.
Robby closes his eyes, and wonders when he lost control of his own damn department.
“Good evening to you too, Jack,” he greets with a sigh.
“What did I ever do to you, I’m totally marriage material! Look at me!” Abbot says, sounding genuinely offended.
“Is it handover time? Or are you just here early to torment me?”
“Why are you avoiding my question, Michael?”
Robby pinches the bridge of his nose, and opens his eyes to narrow down all three of the students in front of him, swearing them silently to secrecy and also to scarper before he made it their problem too. Whitaker vanishes immediately, Mohan not far behind, and Santos leisurely strolls away with a smirk.
This is her fault. He knows it.
“Nice to see you too, Jack.” Robby turns around slowly, and realises that Jack’s standing close enough that their chests are practically touching.
“Am I not even good for a fuck?” Jack whispers, and for all that his eyes are blazing feigned hurt and laughter, his tone is close enough to the one he uses in bed that Robby unwittingly drops his eyes to Jack’s lips then back up again.
“Genuinely, can I help you with something,” he cuts Jack off, pretending as though his tone isn’t a little hoarse with the effect that Abbot just has on him.
“Sure you can baby,”
“Right, that’s it,” Robby pokes Jack in the sternum, forcing him away far enough that their breath isn’t mingling, and then grabs his wrist and marches him out the door to the ambulance bay, where the entire staff can’t just watch. Jack is laughing, like he thinks he’s victorious, and Robby hates that his chest warms at the sound anyway.
“Fucking knew it,” Santos says loudly, and Robby barely restrains himself from flipping her the bird as he walks past. Power dynamics, mentor mentee, age difference, professionalism- he does not do it.
“Is this what you wanted?” he quizzes Jack as they enter the empty space, pushing him back behind the first wall and to where the plants hide them a little.
“You? Always,” Abbot smiles, and fuck him for sounding entirely genuine about it.
He realises he can just say that. “Oh, fuck you,”
“We’re a little more exposed than you normally like, but sure, I guess-“
Robby presses him back against the wall roughly, so the brick skins the back of his arms a little, and leans down to kiss him with intent. The angle is a little off, because he’s so close that Jack can’t tilt his head up like he usually does, but his body is hard lines and muscle against Robby anyway. Warm, like curling up on a rug in front of the fireplace in winter, even when he’s being a little shit in front of their coworkers and students.
“Fucker,” he growls out, and Jack laughs in his face, yanking onto the neck of Robby’s scrubs and pulling him back down into another kiss.
“Didn’t you get enough of me earlier?” Jack mocks as they next break apart, and Robby buries his head into Jack’s shoulder.
“Never do,” he says, entirely honest.
Jack smiles, the skin of his face moving against Robby’s ear as he tugs the taller man in close, until there are arms constricting around Robby’s torso like a snake. “Not a bad way to wake up either,”
“The kids are gonna know,” Robby mutters, unmoving.
“The kids already knew,” Jack tuts, moving his arms until Jack’s face is buried in Robby’s neck too, which is comforting right up until he starts to bite at it, wherein it becomes something other than that very quickly.
“That wasn’t permission,”
Jack pauses long enough to wink. “And that, wasn’t a no.”
Robby bites his lip and doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he thinks about the small box buried in his bedside table, hidden underneath old handkerchiefs where Jack won’t accidentally spot it, with two gleaming silver bands set inside. He’s not going to be the one to ask first, not as long as Jack still wears his old band, but there’s something to this whole ‘being prepared’ thing.
“Hey,” he stops Jack, moving his head up to knock foreheads against his partner. “I love you,”
“Should I be clearing this with Shamsi first, or-“
“Oh fuck off,” Robby laughs helplessly, feeling Jack shaking with laughter in his arms too. He presses a quick kiss to Jack’s cheek, catching him just before the ear, then shoves him away, back towards the entrance to the Pitt.
“Come on, menace. We’ve got work to do.”
“I’m the one here early, where the fuck are you?”
“This is entirely your fault.”