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"Do you have any petth?"
The boy's mother winced at the enthusiastic 'petth,' definitely still working on coming to terms with the fact that her kid now had two baby teeth less and would likely have a lisp for the foreseeable future until those front teeth grew in. At least the gums weren't bleeding anymore.
Frank shot a quick look at Donnie who, at least in theory, knew about Steven because before rehab there used to be a picture of Frank with the cat on the pet wall in the break room.
The picture was of Frank holding Steven in his lap, both of them looking at the camera, Frank half hiding behind the orange tabby. The point of putting that photo up, as far as he could remember, had been to help Robby get over him being on rotation and not on the ED floor for a month.
He remembered it fondly, even now. He'd crowed when he'd noticed it upon his return from the ICU rotation, pleased and grinning at the empty break room. The picture—both who had taken it and who the cat belonged to—had been his and Robby's secret. It had been a signpost of their relationship hidden in plain sight.
Someone had taken it off in the ten months he was gone, likely to help them all survive Robby's bad mood. It hung on their fridge now. 'Their' fridge, not just Robby's—not anymore.
Donnie excused himself to put away the materials they had needed to prep for the cast, which left Frank alone with the kid and his mom.
"I don't," Frank explained. He needed the kid to sit still for a while longer, so he told him, "I'm an uncle to a cat, though."
A glance at the mom told him that she knew exactly what he was talking about.
The admission brought on a whole line of motivated questioning, though, putting him under the microscope while he applied the cast and made sure the kid was holding still. What did that mean? It wasn't his cat? What did a cat uncle do? Where was the cat now? Who did the cat belong to?
"Well." Frank blew out a breath. Saying certain things out loud still came with a cost; a toll. "He is my… partner's cat. And that makes him, I guess, the dad. Sort of. Or owner. He doesn't really call himself the cat's dad. And—"
He could very clearly hear the mom try to hide a laugh. He glanced up at her and she was hiding her amusement behind her hand. That felt very encouraging.
The kid followed the explanation with wide eyes and interrupted with the really probing question. "What'th the cat'th name?"
"Steven."
More hidden laughter.
"That'th a weird name for a cat."
"It is," Frank agreed.
"My uncle and hith boyfriend have a cat, too," the boy now told him, serious as he could be.
"Yeah?" he asked and finished up with the cast. He bent over and examined it. Quick and easy and perfect. He nodded at the mom. Another minute and they could be out of here.
"Yeth, hith name ith Gay."
"Gary," the mom corrected, quick like lightning, and with wide eyes. "Gary, the cat's name is Gary."
Now it was Frank's turn to laugh. "Alright. Well, good people names for cats, right?" he asked the little champion sitting on the bed who nodded at him enthusiastically. Those painkillers were really doing their job.
"Alright. You two," he began. He looked at the kid and then at the mom and tried to do the thing he did where he talked to his little patient but actually wanted the parent to listen. A song and dance that garnered him the adoration of all parents and mostly disinterest from his kid patients. "I'm going to go back out there for a moment and leave you two alone. And I'll be right back with your discharge papers and the information your mom needs to take care of you… and then I'll be right back."
He checked in with the mom who nodded gratefully and did as he'd promised. It took a moment longer than planned, because Ogilvie and Javadi wanted to present a patient and that always took twice as long as when they came individually.
By the time he rounded back to the kid and his mom, the kid had found a new victim.
"Do you have any petth?" he heard from a few feet away.
"Yes, I do. A cat."
Oh shit, that was Robby. Robby, who would now inadvertently…
"What'th your cat'th name?" Small talk for a four-year-old with tunnel vision.
Frank pulled the curtain back, doing his best to interrupt in time to avoid Robby outing himself and them in general. "I've got your papers," he cut in and held them out towards the mom at the same moment as Robby told the kid, "Steven."
The kid looked between them.
The mom looked between them.
The kid lit up.
Frank smiled at Robby. "Yeah, damn those… coincidences." He cleared his throat. "Robby, I think I heard Dana call for you."
The mom took the papers and pretended, out of politeness, that she hadn't heard anything. She took the cue from Frank and distracted her son while Frank put a subtle hand in Robby's back and pushed his confused partner towards the opening in the curtain. "I've got this," he murmured quietly and turned to his patient.
"Ith that your boyfriend?" the kid asked excitedly and too loud for Robby to be out of earshot yet.
Great. As long as no one else has heard.
Half an hour later, after more rapid-fire one-upmanship from Ogilvie and Javadi, Frank found himself at the hub with Robby sidling up to him.
"What wath that?" Robby asked, lisping to attach the question to a certain patient.
Frank groaned. "Don't ask. I didn't… it wasn't." He hadn't tried to out Robby or them or whatever else Robby might be thinking. His heart rate picked up, defensive before Robby had even started to scold him for airing out their private life. Robby didn't like PDAs, he didn't like people knowing.
"It's fine," Robby suddenly said, in some hushed and urgent tone that sounded unfamiliar enough for Frank to look over.
Robby looked tense and unhappy. "I know I made that mistake in the past… but we're not a secret. You're not my secret. I want you to be able to—"
"Dr. Robby, we need you over here!"
"Hold that thought," Robby said and started speed-walking to the trauma room that had shouted for him. Halfway there, he turned and called back to Frank. "We'll talk about it tonight." With a smile that hid nothing.
Frank pressed a hand to his chest to calm down. Tonight. Robby had certainly said that loud enough for all of Central to hear. 'Tonight' was just one step away from declaring 'at home' or 'at dinner' to half the floor.