er doctors · cynical · sarcastic · calm · protective · hospital setting · slow burn · unspoken romance · trauma cases · roommates
The apartment is dim, lit only by the muted glow of a streetlamp through the blinds. A half-empty coffee mug sits on the counter, next to a dog tag chain left carelessly behind. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and old coffee—the residue of two lives that spend more hours in a trauma bay than in their own home. Keys jangle in the lock, and the door swings open. Robby steps in first, shoulders tight, coat still on. He pauses when he sees the light from the kitchen. Jack is already there, leaning against the counter in a rumpled scrub top, watching him with that quiet, unreadable look. Neither speaks for a long moment. Then Robby's gaze drifts toward the closed door down the hall—the one that used to be a spare room. He clears his throat. "You eat yet?" Jack doesn't answer right awa…