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Robby felt nauseous from how exhausted he was. Ellis had put him in the break room for the last hour of his shift, something he would have absolutely refused to allow—under any other circumstances.
But here he was, lounging on the couch, his feet up on a chair, eyes closed and the hood of his sweatshirt covering his eyes. He didn't know how long he'd been here, or how much longer it would be. He didn't much care, as long as his headache stayed at that manageable level of dull throbbing; a vast improvement to the vicious stabbing that had incapacitated him earlier.
Suddenly, the door opened and he heard the end of a conversation that had started elsewhere.
"… should have kicked in by now." That was Ellis, who had given him a generous dose of Imitrex earlier before taking over his duties without missing a beat.
"Alright." That voice he was more intimately familiar with. "There he is," Frank cooed, earning him a soft huff from Ellis.
"See you later." With that, Ellis closed the door and Robby and Frank were alone.
He heard steps and made an effort to sit up a little, but before he could move, the couch was dipping next to him and Frank was hugging him loosely.
"Hey there."
Robby groaned. Cool hands touched his cheek and danced over his brow to come to rest on his forehead. He moaned and leaned into Frank. His face met with a cool cheek. Perfection.
"There you are," Frank murmured now, quiet and sweet and holding him in an embrace Robby wanted to spend the rest of his life in. He felt a chuckle vibrate through Frank's body. "I've got you."
Robby still had no response. He hummed in appreciation and let himself be coddled. The hood was shoved back, his head was cupped, and then his face was pressed against Frank's chest. Relief washed through him, like being rinsed out by love.
He blinked his crusty eyes open—thick, sticky eyelids that didn't want to stay up. His vision was blurry.
"Any symptoms or side effects?" Frank asked.
"No," he sighed out. He felt nauseous, tired, miserable, hot, heavy. "Maybe."
"Maybe a few side effects?"
"Yeah," he answered. Exactly. Frank knew what he wanted to say.
"Okay. Ready to go home or do you want to sit here a little longer?"
No, Robby definitely didn't want to stay here any longer than he had to. "Go," he breathed out against the fabric on Frank's chest. It smelled of detergent and Frank in a unique way that made Robby emotional.
"Alright." Frank kept him resting on his chest while he shifted minimally to sit more comfortably. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to get out of here in a minute. The car is out back in your spot. I'll drive us home. And then you can lie down on the couch or in bed with Steven with the lights turned off. I've got soup or frozen pizza… your choice. And if you feel like it, ice cream afterwards."
That sounded heavenly.
All of that sounded heavenly.
Perfect.
If it wasn't for the fact that today was their anniversary and they had planned to go pick up dessert at the Italian place on their way home. Not weeks-old open ice cream, likely with freezer burn.
"Tomorrow," Frank said, because of course he knew what Robby wanted to say. He'd probably felt Robby's protest in some minute movement he hadn't even been aware of making. "We'll do that tomorrow."
"But it's our first." Of their second attempt at this relationship, but still a first anniversary.
"Exactly," came the soft reply—accompanied with a kiss to his forehead and fingertips in his hair. "There will be many more, so we can do next year's on the actual date. Or make it a tradition to be late."
Robby huffed. "You sure?"
"Very sure." Frank shifted and stretched his back again. Robby felt him arch under him. "Alright, time to go."
Robby grabbed at Frank's T-shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. "Happy anniversary."
"Tell me tomorrow."
"Again. I'll tell you again tomorrow."