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For the better part of a year, Frank hadn’t gone to work with his collar fastened around his neck. The collar was brown with a gold clasp and matching name tag, one side engraved with his name, the other with ‘Property of Dr. Michael Robinavitch’. The leather was well-worn, soft, buttery. Frank turned it over in his hands. He’d thought that after everything, Robby might’ve wanted it back. But he’d never said anything and Frank couldn’t bring himself to part with it.
He’d kept it in it’s wooden box, tucked neatly in his bedside draw. It was the first time he’d taken it out in a while. Frank had been good at maintaining it—on days he couldn’t settle, not even after a run, Robby used to gather all their leather toys, harnesses, a pair of his boots and Frank’s collar and make Frank clean them, condition them, polish them. There’d been something calming about the repetitiveness, about how Robby trusted him with their expensiveness, how Frank oversaw their care.
He shakes himself out of the memories, focuses back on the strip of brown leather in his hands. He’d woken to a text on his phone from Robby that said ‘wear your collar’. It was the first text that had been sent by either of them since Frank’s desperate pleading, begging and insisting when Robby had found out about the benzos. Like the atoning, faithful dog he was, Frank would obey. As soon as he could stop his hands from trembling so he could wrap the collar around his neck properly. But there was something that stopped him.
He glanced down at his phone, realising the time. Shit. He needed to leave if he wanted to make it to work on time. He wound the collar around his hand, coiling it like a snake before tucking it into his backpack and running put the door.
The collar sat in Frank’s backpack for the rest of the day. It was busy— which standard for the ER but it was like he couldn’t catch a breath. He felt Robby’s stare on him all day and he felt everyone else eyeing the pair of them like they were about to duke it out in the middle of the Pitt. He felt on edge, like his coworkers were waiting for him to slip up, to do something that threw Robby into a rage. It was the last thing Frank wanted, so he tried to keep his distance. It was a reversal of their dance from Frank’s first day post-rehab, where Robby tried to avoid him at every turn. He wasn’t even really sure why he was doing it, but facing Robby felt too daunting, nerve-wracking, thrilling and surreal.
The day shift was winding down and the night shift were trickling in. He’d started his hand-off to Ellis when Robby’s finally had it.
“Dr Langdon!” He barked from across the ER. The tone made him nervous, but it shot a jolt of pleasure down his spine, too.
Several people snapped their heads up, looking between the pair of them.
“You good?” Ellis asked him gently.
Frank straightened. “Yeah,” he mumbled, leaving her with the patient and making his way to Robby.
“What’d you need?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Robby stared at him, unimpressed. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.” He looked pointedly at Frank’s bare neck.
Robby took a step towards Frank, then seemed to think better of it and stalked off. Frank let out a breath. Shit.
“Everything alright, kid?” Asked Dana.
“Yeah,” he said distractedly before chasing after Robby.
He almost crashed into the man at the stairwell.
“Fuck, sorry,” Frank apologised and Robby turned to face him.
It was the closest they’d been all day and Frank finally allowed himself to look at Robby. He looked good. Better than good, really. Not as strung out. Rested, like he’d actually gotten some sleep. His broad shoulders that Frank loved to put his hands on are relaxed, not tensed practically up to his ears. Fuck. He’d always thought that Robby’s hot, but today he looked so good and Frank wanted.
“If you don’t want to do this anymore,” Robby started, looking anywhere but at Frank. “If you’ve moved past it, you can tell me.”
“I do, Robby,” Frank rushed out desperately, trying to find Robby’s eyes with his own. “It’s in my bag. It’s just, I couldn’t bring myself to put it on.”
“Why?” He asked, finally meeting Frank’s gaze.
“There’s only one person who’s ever put the collar on me. I didn’t want to put it on without him.” Frank admitted, stepping closer.
Robby brought up a hand to cup Frank’s chin, stroking his cheek with a calloused thumb. Frank’s eyes fluttered shut. He’d missed this. God, he’d missed this. After thirteen months, the heat from Robby’s palm on his face was enough to put him on the edge of subspace.
“Baby,” Robby murmured and Frank’s stomach curled. He let out a small whine. He didn't mean to but he couldn’t help it.
When Frank opened his eyes again, Robby smiled at him.
“Where is it?” Robby asked.
“In my bag,” Frank said. “I really did try to put it on, Sir.”
Robby patted his cheek once before pulling his hand away. “I’m sure you did. It’s alright. It’s my job to collar my boy. Go get your things. I’ll drive us home. We’ve got some things we need to talk through.”
Frank grinned. “Yes, Sir.” He spun on his heel towards the lockers.
The next day, Frank came into work with his collar fastened around his neck, gold tag shining under the fluorescent lights. It was the calmest he’d been walking into work since he’d been back, with the leash that’s clipped to his collar and the end curled in Robby’s hand as he walked them through the hospital.
They talked last night. About everything. Frank’s thievery and addiction. The awful words he said to Robby before they parted after the MCI at Pittfest. The awful words Robby had lobbed back. They talked about his recovery, why Robby didn’t reach out. Robby talked about his depression, his suicide plan. Starting therapy. It was good, important. But the rest of the night had been even better, and now Frank has the purple-blue marks on his neck, just above his collar, to prove it.
Robby took him to his locker and unclipped the leash. Frank whined at the loss. He knew it wasn’t practical, and basically impossible, to stay leashed to Robby for the whole day, and yet he wanted it. He wanted everyone to know that he was still Robby’s and that he’d do anything for his Dom.
“You gonna be a good boy for me, today?” Robby asked him.
“Yes, Sir.” Frank replied hoarsely, his throat dry.
“Good,” Robby said. “Otherwise I’ll have to punish you, and trust me, you won’t like what I have in store.”
Frank nodded. “I’ll be good, Sir.”
Robby patted his head condescendingly, “We’ll see.”
Frank shivered, wondering what his Dom had in store for him.