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Maybe this is a mistake. A mistake he really shouldn't make. He knows better. He's old enough to know he should avoid situations like this if he doesn't want whatever is going on inside him to become even more... complicated.
The worst part is that he knows it's a mistake. But growing older doesn't automatically make you wiser, and it certainly doesn't stop you from making them anyway.
He hadn't meant to say it. It was out before he could think twice. The rain had only just started, but it was obvious it wasn't going to let up anytime soon. By now, it's pouring, the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers almost hypnotic as he guides his car through the nighttime streets of Pittsburgh.
At this point, the boy would be soaked to the bone.
Maybe it was that image of him that had lodged itself in his mind like an arrow when he ran into Dennis out back, near the parked ambulances. Huddled beneath the driveway awning to shelter from the rain, wearing that familiar expression that always makes him look like a lost, kicked puppy whenever something is bothering him.
And damn it, he has a car, the boy's apartment is right around the corner, and... it just slipped out. Just like that. Nothing that special, really. Just something simple. A ride home. A few minutes in the car. That's all. Just an offer to give him a ride. End of story.
Or at least that's what Robby keeps telling himself.
The truth is so much messier. So much more complicated.
Because this is what happens when you're a grown man with a crush on one of your students. Yeah. That's the reality of it. A man his age with a damn crush on someone so much younger. And what does he do instead of keeping his distance, instead of acting like the professional he's supposed to be? Exactly. He traps himself in the cramped space of a car with him. Just the two of them. Close enough to catch the faint scent of his shampoo, to notice the soft curls brushing the nape of his neck, to watch every swallow, every subtle movement of his Adam's apple.
Robby’s throat suddenly feels unusually dry. Absently, he taps his fingers against the steering wheel without really noticing. He almost has to force himself to focus on the road.
Gentle strains of an old country song drift from the radio, almost swallowed by the steady drumming of the rain. They don’t talk much. There is no need to. The silence is not uncomfortable, though. It is just full and heavy, shaped by the last twelve hours and everything they’ve gone through.
Out of the corner of his eye, however, he keeps glancing at Dennis. He can't help it. Exhausted, the younger man is slumped in the passenger seat, shoulders low, backpack on his lap, arms wrapped tightly around it.
Every now and then, Dennis shifts slightly, and Robby finds himself paying attention to things he shouldn’t. A subtle tilt of his head, every small change in his breathing, the way his teeth press into his lower lip, or his fingers curl deeper into the fabric of the backpack.
Then, out of nowhere, their eyes meet. It lasts only a moment, but it’s enough.
Enough for Robby’s face to warm, for that faint fluttering sensation to spread through his chest. Just like always when they have one of those... moments.
Because the biggest problem with all of this is that it is not just up to him. Damn, he wishes it were like that. If it were, he might actually be able to shake off this embarrassing crush, to accept how stupid, frustrating, and irrational it all is.
It would be easier to resist, to be reasonable, if there weren't something between them. If Dennis wouldn’t shiver every time Robby touches him, whether it is a quick pat on the shoulder or their fingers brushing when something is handed over. Or those small pauses before he moves away, like he is not entirely sure he wants to yet. All the furtive glances he throws his way when he thinks no one is watching.
Or giving him one of his rare, quiet smiles…
Their eyes snap away from each other at the same time. Robby turns back to the road a little too quickly, Dennis drops his gaze to his feet, an adorable blush creeping up his nose and cheeks.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Robby forces a deep breath in through his nose, then swallowing back the lump in his throat. His mouth curves anyway, soft and unguarded and before he knows it a warm smile spreads across his lips.
Dennis is so damn adorable when he's like this.
And he, Michael Robinavitch, is totally fucked.
He finds himself chuckling under his breath and some of the tension slips from his shoulders. Irrational as it all is, he cannot deny that it feels good. To feel this way again, with everything that goes with it, reminding him that his heart is still capable of surprising him.
Robby clears his throat as the car rolls to a stop at a red light.
"Y'know," he begins, his voice gentle at the edges, "you did good today. Hell of a shift, huh?"
"Dennis looks his way, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Isn’t it always? But hey, you’re right. I only had to change twice." He sighs. "Guess that’s an improvement."
Unable to help himself, Robby tilts his head back and laughs. It’s a deep, rich sound that warms him from the inside.
"I’d call that progress."
Next to him, Dennis joins in, the soft blush on his cheeks makes him look incredibly young. Which, of course, he is. A young man with a knack for ending up in the most impossible situations, usually finishing the shift in a different set of scrubs.
"Hey, I’m serious," Robby says once the laughter trails off. His tone is still warm, but firmer now. "You’re doing a damn good job."
"You… think so?" Dennis asks, brow knitting slightly, as if he is still trying to figure that out himself.
"I do," Robby hums softly. "I’m glad to have you with me… with us," he adds after a beat, catching himself just a little too late.
He steps on the gas as soon as the light turns green and crosses the intersection. Holy shit. What is he doing?
Heat creeps up the back of Robby’s neck. He rubs at his collar, clears his throat again, anything to reset himself. But he can still feel Dennis beside him, watching him in that quiet, attentive way that makes it hard to think straight.
"I mean…," he starts again, voice rougher than intended. "What I want to say is…"
It comes out clumsy. Fractured. Not at all what he meant it to be, lacking his usual ease. Actually, he knows what he wants to say. It just refuses to take the right shape. Damn. He really should not be doing this. Or even thinking about it. It feels wrong in one breath, and right in the next.
Can something be both at the same time? And yet here he is, stumbling over his own words like a nervous schoolboy.
In the end, it is Dennis who breaks the tension. With a light touch, barely there, his fingers brush against Robby’s arm.
"It’s… it’s okay, I get it." The words are quiet, steady. "That really means a lot to me. Hearing that from you." A small pause. "Thanks. Thanks, Doc Robby."
His fingertips rest so lightly on his arm that Robby is almost certain he is imagining it. Sure, they touch all the time while working, but this is different. More personal, more… intimate. And he almost thinks he can feel a small vibration echo from Dennis’ fingertips into his arm.
Some fuzzy feeling settles in his chest.
A slight, boyish grin tugs at his mouth as he turns to Dennis.
"C'mon, scratch that," slips out before he thinks better of it. "We’re not at work. Just Robby is fine. Or Michael, if you want."
Like the offer to give him a ride, it just slips out. This time, though, he doesn't regret it. Not even close. If anything, the surprise in Dennis’ eyes, the light pressure of his fingers against Robby’s sleeve, makes it all feel strangely worth it.
Only then does Robby realize how close they are.
For a long heartbeat, neither of them moves. Dennis’ hand is still resting on his arm, his body unconsciously leaning toward him.
Then another blush slowly spreads across his cheeks as he ducks his head, a smile blooming shyly across his face. Almost reluctantly, he lets his hand slip away from Robby’s arm and eases back into his seat.
"Oh... okay," he murmurs, the words barely louder than the rain outside.
Robby drives the rest of the way in silence, his heart refusing to settle. The windshield wipers keep their steady rhythm while the late night news murmurs from the radio, fading into little more than background noise. By the time he pulls up outside Dennis' apartment building, barely twenty minutes have passed.
The engine hums quietly beneath them. Outside, the rain keeps pouring down, blurring the apartment building into a wash of amber streetlights and dark windows.
"So..." Dennis exhales quietly, the breath leaving him in a slow rush. He shifts in his seat, absently fidgeting with the straps of his backpack.
"So," Robby echoes, his thumb absently rubbing along the rim of the steering wheel.
They eye each other, both suddenly unsure, reluctant to end this. Whatever it is. But then they both break into a small, tired grin at the same time, and whatever tension had been left between them finally fizzles out like a bubble popping.
"Ah, shit." Shaking his head with a quiet breath that is half laugh, half exhaustion, Robby leans back in his seat, this time a little more heavily. "Been a long day," he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, tilting his head slightly in Dennis’ direction. "You should try to get some sleep."
For a brief moment, he just watches him there in the dim light of the car, suddenly aware of just how tired they both are.
The young man nods slowly, his eyes growing more weary than before, a faint, tired expression crossing his face.
"Yeah," he says quietly, softly. "You too."
With a soft click, Dennis unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for one strap of his backpack. His eyes, however, stay fixed on Robby’s until he finally lowers them in a quick, almost shy flutter.
His fingers search blindly for the door.
"Um, thanks," he whispers, biting his lower lip as a cold rush of air seeps into the car. "Thanks for the ride, Michael."
Michael. He called him Michael.
Michael.
Robby doesn't give himself time to think. It just happens, and there is nothing he can do to stop it.
The door slams shut, cutting off the outside world in a single harsh sound. In the same second, he has Dennis by the jacket and yanks him back inside, closing the gap before either of them can think. There is no pause, no warning. Dennis barely has a chance to react, just a quick breath, before their lips meet.
The kiss does not come out as anything rough or certain. It is clumsy at first, more impulse than intention, yet still undeniably tender, real in a way neither of them has fully caught up with yet.
Robby is close, too close to think clearly. His fingers press a little more firmly into Dennis’ collar for a moment before loosening, shifting instead to cup his jaw with a surprising gentleness. His thumb moves over warm skin, slow and absentminded, like he is trying to make sense of the fact that this is actually happening.
Under his touch, he feels Dennis shiver, his breath stuttering against his lips.
For a split second, Robby wonders what the hell has gotten into him.
Then Dennis kisses him back.
He leans across the center console, one hand catching on Robby's jacket for balance as he melts into the kiss with a shaky sigh, meeting him with the same instinctive need that had caught him so completely off guard only moments before.
Their foreheads nearly bump in the cramped space, knees brushing beneath the dashboard, but neither of them seems to care. No longer just an answer, but a wordless plea not to stop, the kiss deepens almost on its own.
A small, desperate moan rises between them, barely more than a breath, yet enough to make Robby's heart stumble. Dennis sinks into the closeness between them, erasing the last trace of distance, pressing into the warmth of Robby's touch. Robby follows without hesitation, caught completely in the moment. And when those soft, trembling lips part in a quiet, unspoken invitation, he finds himself unable to resist.
What began as an impulsive kiss slowly grows more urgent, their hesitant movements giving way to a needy, almost desperate rhythm. Their lips, teeth, and tongues seem to melt into each other, moving together with growing certainty, every kiss drawing them back for another, as if neither of them is willing to break the moment.
When they finally break apart, everything feels strangely unreal to Robby. The warmth in his face. The faint tingle on his lips. His fingers, still cupping Dennis' cheek.
They simply look at each other, breathing a little harder than before. Somehow, the silence inside the car suddenly seems louder than the rain pounding against the windows. Then reality catches up with him.
Robby swallows, and his hand slips away from Dennis' face.
"I'm... fuck." His voice comes out scratchy and thick. He slowly leans back, putting some distance between them again. "I shouldn't have- I'm so- "
"Please, don't." Dennis cuts him off gently, but quickly enough to stop the apology before it can leave Robby's lips. "Don't apologize, okay?" he says softly. "There's no need to."
His expression is tired, a little overwhelmed, but there is no regret in it. Just a faint blush around his nose as he realizes he is still holding onto the older man's jacket.
Slowly, almost shyly, Dennis lets go and rubs the back of his neck.
Robby watches him, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You sure?"
"Yep." Dennis nods, small but certain. "It's not like I've never imagined kissing you before," he admits, his eyes dropping for a second. "And... you're a pretty good kisser, though."
He gives Robby a sweet, shy smile, and something inside him softens. The nervousness. The guilt. The fear that he somehow crossed a line. All of it starts to fade, replaced by something warmer, something he doesn't quite know what to do with.
And then, because apparently his brain has decided to stop helping him entirely, he gets the sudden urge to pull Dennis back into his arms, to hold him and... Great. Now he really isn't in control anymore. Not of his thoughts. Not of the stupid smile forming on his face. Maybe not even of the words that leave his mouth next.
"Oh, really?" he hears himself say, unable to hide the grin in his voice. "Is that so?"
"Mm-hmm. Your beard is a little scratchy," he confesses, biting his lower lip. "But I actually like that. A lot."
And as if Robby wasn't already struggling to believe that this is actually happening, Dennis reaches up and places his hand against his bearded cheek. His touch is gentle, careful. His fingers brush lightly over the roughness there.
And just like that, it happens again. Robby’s hand finds its way to Dennis’ neck, almost without thought, and their lips meet once more in another soft kiss. Nothing more than a fleeting touch, skin against skin.
"I should probably go," Dennis whispers against his mouth.
Their breaths mingle as he slowly pulls away and reaches for his backpack. This time, for real.
Robby, who can still feel his warmth of him on his lips, says nothing. He cannot even manage a word. He just watches as Dennis opens the door and the cold night air slips back into the car.
"Good night," he says, his voice barely carrying over the rain. "Good night, Michael."
Before he can answer, Dennis steps out into the rain and closes the door behind him.
Robby stays behind, watching as Dennis’ silhouette disappears inside the building a few heartbeats later. Honestly, he has no idea how he is going to make it home without somehow wrecking the car.
His hands are still shaking. His thoughts are a complete mess. And no matter how hard he tries to convince himself otherwise, he already knows the truth.
He is completely and utterly screwed.
○•●○tbc~ sooner or later●○•●