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“This is a bad fuckin’ idea.”
Robby scowled at Jack. Jack scowled right back.
“What do you want from me, man? I’ve got a five seater car, and you guys are six drunk idiots. It’s this or a two-hundred dollar Uber. Probably more once Javadi has barfed in it.”
“No!” whined Santos, sticking her head out of the window of Jack’s car. “Dr. Robby, get in! It’ll be soo fine.”
Even through the haze of four-too-many beers, Robby could see the warning signs all over this situation. Santos, Whitaker, Javadi and Mohan were all crammed into the back of Jack’s car, somehow squeezing four people onto a three-person bench only really by virtue of them all being below-average sized. Whitaker was practically on Santos’ lap even so, his head lolling against the front passenger seat. Victoria was visibly trying not to be sick, squashed in between Whitaker and a dozing Mohan.
“Jack, how many idiots have we seen in the ED with injuries after a crash like this?” Robby demanded, gesturing at his drunk subordinates.
“You knew how big my car was when you called me!”
“Yeah, I was hoping Santos wouldn’t be ready to go home yet.”
“I’m not!” Santos piped up. “McDonald’s first, then home.”
“For God’s sake.”
“Boys, boys.”
Dana’s hand landed on his forearm, the other on Jack’s. She looked at Jack, then at Robby, swaying only slightly in her heels.
“Chill out,” she said firmly. “It’s a ten minute drive to drop off Thing 1 and Thing 2, and then we’ll have the right amount of people for the car. I’m sure Jack can avoid veering into oncoming traffic for ten minutes.”
Jack’s nostrils flared. “I drove AFVs in Afghanistan, for fuck’s sake. Where is this lack of faith in my driving skills coming from?”
Dana shushed him gently, squeezing his arm. Santos’ head emerged from the window again.
“I’m Thing 1, right? Huck is Thing 2?”
Dana didn’t answer. Instead, she made her way unsteadily to the front passenger side door, opening it and gesturing to Robby.
“Get in.”
Robby blinked at her, frowning. “What?”
Dana looked at him like he was the idiot in this situation, which he almost definitely was.
“Well, you’re not sitting on my lap.”
Robby’s brain short-circuited. Somehow, he hadn’t considered that fitting the last two people into the car would involve…um…
Jack seemed to have forgotten his indignation now, watching the two of them with a dirty grin. “Could always sit in my lap, gorgeous.”
“Then we really will crash,” Dana replied flatly. “Robby, hop to.”
Robby’s knees hit the dashboard of Jack’s car — he could only move the seat back a few inches before Santos and Whitaker began whining in tandem that he was squashing them. Dana seemed unperturbed, squeezing herself into the car and dropping into his lap heavily enough to force a quiet “oof” out of him. She threw a glare over her shoulder at him.
“I am not that heavy!” she groused, rearranging their legs so hers were tucked between his.
“No, you’re not. But the alcohol has clearly stolen your ballerina grace,” Robby muttered. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he held on to the edge of the seat. Dana rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrists, yanking his arms around her waist.
“You’ve got the seatbelt, Chief, so this’ll have to do for me.”
Robby obeyed with a long-suffering grunt, tightening his hold.
“You’re not going through any windshields on my watch.”
“Appreciate that.”
Jack started the car with unnecessary force, shooting them a glare. “I am not crashing, you dick.”
He pulled away from the curb smoothly, but the movement still sent a ripple of complaints through the backseat. Robby rolled his eyes.
“If we get pulled over—”
“Right. One last comment, Robinavitch—”
“Okay, okay,” Dana cut in. She squeezed Robby’s forearms warningly. “Surely even you two can behave yourselves for ten minutes.”
Jack huffed and flicked on the radio, letting the sound of whatever teenybopper song was popular this week begin playing through the car. Robby didn’t recognise it, but there was a chorus of happy warbles from the backseat.
Dana laughed, settling back against Robby’s chest to steady herself.
“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, turning her head slightly toward him so she could hear his reply.
Robby started to turn his head, then at the last second realised exactly how close it would bring their faces. Their noses would have practically brushed. He fixed his gaze firmly on the windscreen instead. “I think I’m getting too old for Ahmad’s nights out.”
“What? You looked like you were having fun.”
“Yeah, me and a bunch of twenty-somethings. I felt like a fossil in that place.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m older than you.”
“Yeah, but better looking.”
It slipped out without his brain’s consent. Robby immediately shut his mouth so hard that his teeth clicked together.
He blamed the beer.
Whether Dana had missed what he said or simply chose to ignore it, Robby couldn’t tell. He felt rather than heard her laugh. Suddenly, he was very, very aware of her body. She was warm in his lap, her back pressed against him, her hair brushing against his cheek. She was still holding his arms around her waist. Her thumb was drawing gentle circles on his skin. Robby found himself uncomfortably hot.
Jack took a corner a little too sharply, causing them all to tilt over to the left. Dana hissed as Robby’s arms dug tighter into her stomach, keeping her in his lap.
“Loosen up there, Robby,” she huffed, nudging him slightly.
“I’m going to be sick,” Javadi moaned from the backseat.
“No, the fuck you’re not!” Jack growled, glaring at her through his rearview mirror. “Samira, hands.”
“Ew, no!”
“Ew? You’re a doctor!”
“Here, here,” Dana retrieved her handbag up from the footwell, knocking Robby’s feet out of the way in the process, and quickly emptied out her wallet, keys and phone. She twisted in the seat, leaning around Robby as she did so, and shoved her bag under Victoria’s nose. Instinctively, Robby released his hold on her waist, giving her more freedom to move. He put his hands on her hips instead, steadying her. This was an unfortunate amount of wriggling for someone trying very hard not to think about the fact that Dana was sitting in his lap.
Victoria retched into the bag a few times, bringing up nothing but bile.
“It’s okay,” Dana said soothingly, reaching awkwardly to stroke Javadi’s hair. Santos and Mohan were both pressed as far away as possible in the confines of the car. Whitaker didn’t quite seem to have registered what was happening.
After a moment, Victoria shook her head, wiping her mouth with the back of a hand. “I think that’s it.”
“Good,” Dana said. Then, when Javadi tried to hand the bag back to her, she quickly added, “No, no, you hold onto that.”
“Christ,” Robby muttered. Dana dug an elbow into his ribs as she turned back around.
“She’s only twenty-one,” Dana reminded him, voice pitched low so the backseat wouldn’t hear her.
“Exactly. Babies.” Robby said with a snort. He noticed his breath disturb the hair at her shoulder, and he hid another smile there.
There were a few minutes of silence, save the tinny radio. Jack looked fit to combust, his hands so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles were white. Mentally, Robby took him off his designated driver list.
“Robby,” Dana murmured, and Robby came back to himself, having zoned out watching the orange blur of streetlights pass them by. He squeezed her gently in acknowledgement before he’d even realised where his hands were.
Wait.
His hands.
At some point, without him noticing, they had shifted from her hips. Suddenly, he was very aware of them resting on her thighs, his palms half over the hem of her dress and half against her bare skin.
He quickly assessed Dana. She had gone very still in his arms, staring out the window, not at him, so he couldn’t see her face. His thumb froze.
Wait.
His thumb.
Oh God. He’d been stroking her with it.
Robby immediately dropped his hands down to the edge of the seat, gripping there tight enough to rival Jack.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling his face turn red. Oh God, forget being the creepy fifty-year-old in the club with a bunch of barely-legals. Here he was feeling up his charge nurse the minute he had her in his lap. Fuck’s sake.
“It’s okay.” Dana whispered back.
After a moment of incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable silence, Dana shifted in his lap, rolling her hips back against him slowly. Deliberately. Robby froze, his fingers digging into the upholstery.
Surely he’d imagined that.
There was no way she was—
And then Dana rocked forward and did it again. And then she pressed down.
Robby exhaled loudly.
“You okay there, brother?” Jack asked, glancing over with an eyebrow raised. Whatever he saw made the second eyebrow join the first.
Robby didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“Never mind,” Jack said cheerfully, already looking back at the road. Good. Robby was pleased his discomfort had improved Jack’s mood.
“Dana,” he rasped. Every part of him was on high alert. Dana turned her head, and the grin she gave him was entirely unapologetic.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“You’re evil,” Robby told her through gritted teeth. He wanted to move her — either to push her away or pull her closer — but both options required touching her again, which he currently wasn’t prepared to do.
“Not long until our first stop,” Jack announced, looking back over his shoulder at Santos and Whitaker. They were half-asleep and slumped against each other.
“Nooo! McNuggets.” Santos whinged, before dozing off again.
When Jack finally pulled up outside their apartment building, Robby offered up a prayer to every god he could think of, in every language he knew. He threw open the passenger door before Jack had even turned off the engine, practically manhandling Dana out onto the sidewalk.
“Okay, okay, Robby, relax!” Dana was still giggling, turning to help him out of the car. Robby batted away her hands as he got out, hoping against hope that his jeans hid the evidence of her effect on him.
“Robby—” she said when he was upright, smiling wide. Robby turned away quickly, wrenching open the back door and letting Santos and Whitaker fall out of it in a heap.
“I’ll take them up, shall I?” Jack asked, hooking Whitaker by his collar and yanking him to his feet. Robby helped Santos up somewhat more gently. “Make sure they don’t die between here and their apartment.”
Robby leaned against the rear of the car as Jack escorted the two inside, trailing after him like ducklings. He very resolutely did not look at Dana.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Dana said once Jack and the others had disappeared inside, holding her hands up in surrender. When Robby didn’t react, she stepped in front of him, bobbing into his vision. “It was only a joke.”
That stung more than it should have. Of course it had been a joke. What else would it have been?
Robby folded his arms. “It’s fine.”
“You sure? Can you stop looking like I kicked your dog, please?”
“I’ll take the backseat,” Robby said, glancing over his shoulder at Mohan and Javadi curled up there. “Make sure Javadi doesn’t end up with a cleaning bill from Abbot.”
“Robby.”
Dana’s voice had changed now — lower, quieter, a little questioning. Robby sighed and forced himself to look at her properly. Her hazel eyes were wide and slightly shiny — from the alcohol, Robby hoped. Her lips were parted slightly as she looked at him. Her lipstick had faded hours ago, leaving her mouth slightly pink and blurred at the edges. Even after drinking and dancing and laughing and sweating for hours, she still looked…
Robby slammed a mental stop sign over the thought before it could go any further.
“I’m fine,” he said, trying to make it sound convincing. He smiled gently. “C’mon, it’ll make you laugh if Victoria vomits on me.”
Dana stared at him a moment or two longer, searching his face. He held himself carefully still, refusing to let the smile slip. Finally, Dana nodded, and smiled back. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Yeah, except I’m the last stop, and I don’t need to listen to you and Abbot complaining,” she said, leaning against the tailgate beside him. She nudged him with her elbow. “You missed your calling, you know. You are a very comfy armchair.”
“Har har,” Robby said gruffly, and nudged her back.