Work Text:
And over by the window, the voice came low and hollow
(…)
Said, we’ve all had too much sorrow, now is the time for joy
Robby doesn’t like to travel. It’s not because he’s anxious about it. It’s because it always makes him feel incredibly lonely.
After the high school graduation he had to move into his college dorm all by himself. It was understandable – due to her illness, his bubbe was unable to help him with moving heavy boxes, full of novels and medical textbooks. Still, it stung, standing in front of his dorm building and watching families laugh as they carried boxes through the lawn, or cry as they said their goodbyes by their cars. He watched mothers hold their sons close like they were still little boys, going off to school for the very first time.
When he moved to New Orleans there was no one to stand at the curb and wave at his car, watch it disappear on the horizon. Bubbe was gone, and his two friends had already driven off to Boston to start their residencies there.
Whenever Robby finds himself at an airport, he’s always surrounded by people throwing themselves into tight embraces – kids jumping into their fathers’ arms, friends hugging and swaying from side to side, lovers running towards each other halfway across the Arrivals hall.
He has come to terms with missing out on kind of affection. Besides, he’d never ask anyone to drop him off or pick him up. Jack calls it hyper-independence and avoidance. Robby calls it protecting his own peace of mind.
There was one time, some years ago, when he asked Janey if she could pick him up after his flight back home from LA since his car was at the mechanic. Though she enthusiastically said yes, he ended up having to order an Uber – Jake’s father forgot to pick him up from basketball practice and Janey had to go and get him.
Robby felt like the biggest idiot when he stood on the curb and watched a man excitedly throw a suitcase into the trunk and kiss his partner as he joined her in the car. Stubborn, Robby fought the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes.
He never asked Janey again and she never offered. They called it quits two months later.
Looking out the airplane window Robby calculates Pittsburgh’s local time. It will be around 1:30AM when he lands.
His mind drifts to the morning of his departure to Dallas for a medical conference, four days before.
The flight didn’t leave until 3PM so he let himself sleep in. He basked in the slow morning; allowed himself to actually enjoy his cup of coffee. Lately there’s been proper breakfast food in his fridge, so he enjoyed that too.
It was when he was lazily scrolling on his phone on the couch that he noticed a small post-it note stuck to his suitcase standing in the hallway. Coming closer, he recognised the scrawny hand-writing. Good luck on your trip! accompanied by a small, skewed heart.
An unexpected flood of emotion came over Robby. With his throat clenched tightly, he went to retrieve his backpack. He folded the sticky bit of the post-it and slipped it into his wallet.
He doesn’t know what to call whatever it is that he and Dana are right now.
It started when she showed up at his doorstep the evening Benji had finally moved out, and kissed him hard in the dim porch light. Robby had pinned it on stress relief then. But she kept showing up, again and again, and nights in his bed turned into lazy breakfasts at the diner down the street when they were both off duty, and evenings after work spent watching TV on Dana’s beat up leather couch.
Her floral shampoo has taken permanent residence on a shelf in his shower. He had to buy a new toothbrush for the conference – his spare one hangs out in a cup on Dana’s sink.
There is no what are we?; no loaded questions and uncomfortable conversations. There’s no flowers, or fancy dates. No grand gestures.
But during the work trip Robby constantly found himself glancing at the note in his wallet, thinking back to Pittsburgh and to Dana. Was she sleeping at his apartment, in his bed, or did she come back to her place? Did she wait for him to watch the newest episode of Tucci in Italy? Was she cracking jokes with Al-Hashimi like she would with him?
He feels almost embarrassed at the fact that a simple post-it has managed to rattle him this much.
The sharp bolt of the touchdown brings Robby back to reality. He checks his phone – 1:37AM. With a deep sigh he gets up from his seat.
When he enters the Arrivals hall, it’s emptier than usual, thanks to the late hour. He sees an older couple clutching a teddy bear – parents, maybe grandparents; he watches two teens giggle as they hold a cardboard sign that says congrats on your parole. There’s even a chauffeur with one of those fancy name plates.
Robby sighs and marches onward. But then he sees her. Her hair is rumpled from sleep, and she’s hugging herself, wrapped in a fuzzy sweater he vaguely recognizes as his. She’s up on her toes, craning her neck, looking around for him.
Suddenly Robby’s overcome with a wave of affection. His heart beats wildly in his chest as his long legs carry him faster and faster across the concrete, past the laughing kids and serious drivers, straight into Dana’s embrace.
”I love you,” he sighs into her hair as he wraps his arms around her tightly.
If she’s surprised by his admission, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she snakes her arms behind his neck and looks up at him with twinkling eyes. He moves his head down to kiss her. It’s one of those kisses he’s only ever seen on film – he drops his bag to the floor and tips her backwards, tangling his hand in her gold and silver hair. He can feel her smile into the kiss.
When they part she sweetly nudges his nose with hers.
”Welcome back, baby.” She takes a step back and takes his hand. ”Let’s go home.”