Chapter Text
For the most part, Robby considers himself pretty good at minding his own business.
In his opinion, this is a very important trait to have in his line of work. Some people (some people in his same line of work, in fact) would consider this to be an impediment rather than an asset. Makes it harder to form connections and bonds with his patients, makes him seem harder to approach when he clearly isn’t interested in their lives beyond pertinent medical information.
But, for some patients, having a less intrusive doctor does make them feel safer, less likely to be judged. Plus, he’s able to do his work a lot more efficiently when he refuses to let any empathetic feelings of grief or anxiety creep into his brain for a patient he barely knows, but has formed a connection with that makes it feel otherwise.
This line of thinking extends to his staff as well, which even less people are comfortable with. Maybe it’s callous, but he limits his opinions about those he works with as: Competent doctor, has a talent with insert verb here.
He wasn’t always as good at minding his business as he is now, and it’s certainly taken some trial and error. He wishes it were an innate talent, though, something he didn’t have to work so hard at.
(It might’ve made what happened with Langdon feel less like a betrayal, a twisted knife in his gut. Might’ve made every time Collins snubbed him or ignored him feel less personal).
Robby knows the barest amount of information possible, about both his patients and his staff, and finds that it is the easiest, least painful way to get through his life at work.
To his displeasure, sometimes knowing more than he wants to can’t be helped.
**
He quickly realizes that, when Gloria leads him into one of the empty trauma rooms, rather than discuss whatever minutia she feels is so important in front of his staff, his patients, and god, it must be pretty bad.
It’s worse.
“Doctor Robby,” She begins, after shutting the door and closing the curtain behind them, another bad sign. “Shall I even pretend to discuss this hospital’s rules and regulations regarding the secondary sexes of its staff as if you’re already well aware of them? Or would it be more helpful to start from the beginning?”
“I know that the hospital employs members of staff who also happen to have secondary sexes,” He replies blandly, crossing his arms over his chest. The way Gloria sighs and shakes her head tells him that this was the wrong answer, however it’s still his answer.
Truthfully, Robby couldn’t be paid to give a crap about the designations of the people he works with— sort of goes against his “minding-my-business” policy. At the end of the day, all he cares about is the competency of his staff. Anything else is irrelevant.
“At some point or another, I’m sure you were made aware that there are varying regulations set in place for each department regarding the designations of its staff,” She continues on like he hasn’t even spoken, which is the usual way their conversations progress. “Emergency Medicine is no exception.”
“Well, considering this is the first time I’m being made aware of these regulations since whenever it was someone originally told them to me,” Which was probably back when he became an attending, now that he really thinks about it. “I can only guess we’ve been following said regulations pretty well, no?”
“That’s correct,” She says cooly, already turning down towards her clipboard to flip through some papers. Robby is almost fooled into thinking he’s off the hook, until she continues, “Until now.”
“Dr. Robby, were you at all aware that one of your med students is classified as an omega?” She asks him and, well.
Shit.
In hindsight, it is odd that Robby’s mind didn’t immediately jump to him when this conversation began. After all, it appeared that every road in his life currently led back to one Dennis Whitaker.
“Whitaker,” He replies, shrugging his shoulders like none of this even matters to him. Truthfully, it hadn’t mattered to him— up until a second ago. “I’m aware. What about him?”
“Were you also made aware that several patients have made complaints about him in this past week alone?” She doesn’t give Robby a moment to answer as she begins to, seemingly, paraphrase a few statements from her notes in front of her. “That his smell is highly distracting, especially in moments of distress? That his lack of a mating bite is considered to be “provocative” to some of the alpha patients?”
“Why the hell should I care about any of that?” Robby asks, hearing the way his voice begins to increase in volume; Gloria doesn’t react to his obvious annoyance, she never does. “Omegas have naturally strong scents and alphas have a hard time controlling themselves. Am I supposed to be shocked by any of this information?”
“You should care, doctor, because this department, your department, has always operated under the rule that unmated omegas are not allowed to practice here,” Her words effectively put him in his place and she knows it, if her raised eyebrows are any indication.
Because, somehow… Robby didn’t know that.
There’s a smartass remark on the tip of his tongue begging to be fired back at her, some sort of quip to hide his apparent ignorance, but she barrels on before he can. “You know who did know that? Dennis Whitaker.”
She flips her clipboard around and hands it over to Robby before he can blink. He takes it with untrusting hands, shooting her a skeptical look before reading the page she has presented to him.
He realizes that it’s Whitaker’s information- his personal information. He immediately wants to pass it back over to her, refuse to read about the young man’s secrets without his consent but
C’mon.
The sheet starts with the standard information, the man’s name, date of birth, place of birth. Then comes the academic history, the list of programs, the schools attended. And then, tacked on at the end, like it’s some sort of afterthought:
Designation: Omega. Status: Mated.
Robby gets a sick feeling in his stomach.
“So, he’s mated,” Robby forces out, nonchalant, as he pushes the clipboard back to her. He can barely even look at her, really, when the words leave his mouth. “Problem solved, right? Him doing his rotation here is perfectly above board.”
“C’mon, Dr. Robby,” Gloria chastises, putting a hand on her hip. “The boy is not mated. He doesn’t have a mating bite, he has a very distinct omega smell-”
“I’m curious how you even know that, considering the only time you ever deign to grace the ER with your presence is to get angry with me-”
“He listed his mate’s name as John Smith, for god’s sake!”
A silence falls over the trauma room. To his credit, Robby fights it really hard, takes a deep breath through his nose and everything. Even still, the corners of his lips quirk up without his consent.
“I’m very glad you find this amusing,” Gloria tells him, jaw tight. “Hopefully you’ve also realized that this will not stand.”
Robby takes a deep, grounding breath as he runs a hand over his head. “You can’t just throw him out on his ass. He’s a good kid, a better student. He made a mistake.”
“A mistake that, were anyone higher up to catch onto it before I did, would land this hospital in an HR nightmare,” She bites back, before, to Robby’s surprise and relief, her eyes soften. After a moment of contemplation, she adds, “Luckily, it didn’t get that far. There’s still time to transfer him to another department, quickly and quietly. No one else needs to know about this.”
That makes Robby pause. “No.”
“I’m not asking you, doctor. He’s still yet to do his rotation in pedes. Considering that’s where he’s probably going to end up after his schooling—”
“Jesus,” Robby hisses because, yes, even in all of his ignorance, he is familiar with the stereotypes. Many medical schools across the country still refuse to even humor the idea of omegas going into any practice besides pediatrics, family medicine, or OBGYN. It’s where their soft, nurturing traits would be best used, after all.
Robby has worked with far too many omegas in a variety of fields to buy that load of shit, fortunately.
“So, let me get this straight,” He starts, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Because of antiquated, bullshit stereotyping, you’re going to kick out a student who shows extreme promise in emergency medicine?”
“We will move him to a different department and he should be lucky we’re not throwing him out on his ass, as you so eloquently put it, after he lied on his application!”
“He lied because he wanted a chance to figure out what kind of medicine he’s passionate about, and he knew there was no other way!” They’re both raising their voices now, and Robby is more than a little bit shocked about how hard he’s fighting Gloria on this.
He knows it’s mostly his own sense of moral obligation, his refusal to let a system that is dead-set on knocking omegas down do it to someone he knows, someone he can actually play a part in helping.
He also knows that it’s something else, something more personal, that is making him so impassioned. He definitely can’t afford to think about that, though.
“Okay, fine, if you won’t consider the patients, then think about Dennis,” She speaks slowly, methodically, sure that this is her only way to get Robby to back down. “I understand that the rules seem outdated and, between the two of us, I agree. But they were originally put into place for the safety and comfort of the patient and the doctor.
Dennis being unmated puts him at an even greater risk of being assaulted in a profession that, as you know, is already very dangerous. The concept that there would be no mate to challenge an aroused or even bigoted alpha allows them to believe they can do whatever they want to him, without consequence.”
Her words are what finally forces Robby to stop and think. The thought of a rowdy alpha calling Whitaker’s abilities into question, of putting their hands on him when he didn’t want it. The incidents from before pop back up into his mind, unabated: Alphas inhaling Whitaker’s scent, being tempted by his unmarked neck. It’s almost enough to make him march Whitaker down to pedes himself.
Almost. If he didn’t think Whitaker would despise him forever if he did.
“We’ll bump up security,” He settles on, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. Gloria huffs out an incredulous laugh in response, throwing a hand in the air, but Robby easily ignores her. “You can make good on your promise to the staff and hire more security, someone will always be close by to make sure Whitaker is safe, everybody wins.”
“I have a meeting I need to get to within the next 5 minutes, Robby, so I will say this only once,” Gloria tells him, slow and sure. “I have allowed you to get away with far too much in this hospital because you are a wonderful doctor and I want to try and trust your judgement. But, you will not fight me on this.
Dennis has two options: Transfer to pediatrics or be removed from our program. You will deliver those options to him by the end of the day and I expect an answer by tomorrow morning.”
He should really just say yes and shut up. He’s been pushing his luck with Gloria for as long as he can remember, and this could be an easy win for both of them; make Gloria feel like she has some control over him, get her off of Robby’s back for a little while.
And then, he thinks of big, sad, blue eyes. Of lithe hands deftly and surely sewing stitches, performing CPR. A pale, soft neck for Robby to rest his palm on, a body that willingly follows his touch, like a flower to sunlight.
Nothing has ever been easy.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“See that you do, doctor.”
———
After that, his attention is quickly pulled in a million different directions, as is the case with being the attending of the ER. The issue with Whitaker has to be put on the back-burner in order for Robby to focus on what he’s being paid to do: Save lives.
He fully intends to have a conversation with the med student before the end of their shifts, figuring the problem can at least wait until they pass the baton, so to speak, to those on the night shift.
If there is one thing he hates more than Gloria being right, it is him being wrong.
He had just finished helping Doctor Mohan inflate a balloon into a patient who had been quickly diagnosed for carotid artery disease and was, quite frankly, on a high from seeing one of his most promising residents do the procedure mostly on her own.
Cut to: Now.
“Someone should’ve told me I was being treated by an omega bitch! I would’ve walked the fuck back out into the waiting room!” A disgruntled patient screams right as Robby rushes into the room, after hearing shouts break out.
It’s quite the scene. Ahmad is currently holding the patient’s arms behind his back, chest pressed into the hospital bed as he’s held down. Luckily Ahmad is strong, because the man below him is putting up a hell of a fight.
Meanwhile, Whitaker has his back pressed to the wall of the trauma room. He has his arms crossed over his chest, feigning nonchalance, although it’s very obvious to Robby (and probably most people) from the frantic rise and fall of his chest that the med student is anything but unbothered.
“If you left the hospital, your blood clot would’ve continued to travel to your lungs and blocked a pulmonary artery, effectively killing you,” Whitaker explains, and Robby is impressed by the way his voice barely wavers.
The patient continues to fight, though, snarling at Whitaker as he’s pinned down. “Like I give a fuck. I would’ve preferred that if I knew a bitch in heat had his hands all over me.”
“Enough,” Robby says, voice loud and in control. Every head in the room whips over to him as he claps his hands once and walks further into the room, closer to the hospital bed. “Whitaker, tell me about the patient.”
The other man takes a deep breath, finally pushing himself off of the wall but not making any attempts to move closer. “Martin Coleman, 32 years old. Came in for a sudden onset of chest pain and wheezing, also complained about being short of breath. No prior history of heart disease, healthy.”
“Believe you alluded to a pulmonary embolism back there.”
“After ruling out a heart attack, Doctor Langdon sent Mr. Coleman to have a CTPA, as well as an echocardiogram. All signs pointed to a clot in the right pulmonary artery. Doctor Langdon put in an order for thrombolytic therapy, patient seems to be more stable but needs repeat testing to see if the clot has dissolved.”
“Good work, Whitaker,” Robby can’t help the praise when it slips out of his mouth, doesn’t even turn to see the self-satisfied smile on the med student’s face after he gives it— he knows it’s there, though. “With all that being said, Mr. Coleman—”
Robby walks over to the patient in question, stopping right over the restrained man, who now has to crane his next to look at him. Alpha radiates off of him in waves, and Robby can’t help but sigh.
“How did we end up here?”
“I never consented to being treated by an omega,” Martin Coleman grits out, the fight leaving him a bit after being held down for so long. He’s still pissed, though, Robby can see that clearly.
“When you sign the paperwork before being admitted to the ER you agree to be treated by anyone, actually. Fine print, and all that.”
“Screw your fine print! And screw you— both of you!”
“Mr. Coleman, you didn’t seem to have an issue with Whitaker a few hours ago when he was saving your life,” Robby points out, raising an eyebrow at him.
“I was in so much pain I barely knew where I was, man,” He argues, squirming slightly as he turns to look behind Robby, presumably at Whitaker. “Wasn’t until I was fully conscious that I smelled the bitch radiating from him!”
It’s so juvenile, Robby almost wants to laugh at him. That is, until Ahmad adds sarcastically, “That’s why you wrapped your hands around his throat, huh? Because he smelled like bitch?”
That knocks any humor from Robby— damn near knocks him on his ass.
“He what?” Robby asks, turning at a break neck speed to look at Whitaker, still close to the wall. The med student looks sheepish, almost embarrassed, and for the first time, Robby sees the ring of red skin on his neck, stark against his paleness.
“He was only on me for, like, two seconds. Nurse Evans saw it all from outside, called security immediately,” Whitaker explains, his eyes focused on a distant point somewhere beyond Robby, and really the explanation does nothing to calm his fire.
But, at the very least, he is now extremely aware that this problem that he didn’t see as a problem at all, is very much a problem.
“Ahmad, ease off of Mr. Coleman but do not leave him alone,” Robby commands, leadership-brain coming into overdrive amidst his fury. “I’ll get one of the nurses to put him in soft restraints, meanwhile Doctor Santos will be taking over.”
“But, Doctor Robby—” Whitaker immediately silences as soon as Robby puts up a finger.
“Mr. Coleman,” Robby says, notices the way his voice nearly hisses, and he can’t help but delight in the way the patient flinches at his tone, even with Ahmad off of his back, merely holding onto his wrists now.
Good. Let’s see how you like it.
“I would put a lot of consideration into how you’re planning to act going forward. Whitaker is well within his rights to press charges against you, seeing as you just assaulted him. I’d try and calm down before you make things worse for yourself.”
Robby doesn’t even care to hear the asshole’s response. Instead, he knows he has much more important things to discuss.
He turns and grabs onto Whitaker’s shoulders, firmly but calmly leading him out of the room. He barks out orders to Dana as he walks by the main desk, barely registers her responses. When he passes by Doctor Santos as the two of them walk down the hall, he only just manages to grit out her new placement on Mr. Coleman’s care.
Finally, his body propels him into a room on their right, far away from any prying eyes and ears. He opens the door and ushers Whitaker inside, shutting them away from the ER if only just for a moment.
He almost chokes out a laugh when he looks around him for the first time: Smiling, cartoon animals, staring back at him and grinning because even they know that his life is a joke.
Fucking pedes.
Whitaker comes to stand in front of him, eyes wide and concerned, as if Robby were the one who had just been assaulted by a patient. He’d be angry at his naiveté, if he wasn’t so endeared.
“First of all: Are you okay? Do you need your neck injuries to be checked out?” Robby asks, slow and serious, and isn’t surprised when Whitaker immediately shakes his head.
“I’m fine, doctor Robby. He had his hands on me for, I swear to god, like 2 seconds max. It was scarier, than anything else,” He admits the last bit almost begrudgingly.
Robby despises what he has to do next, but knows it’s more necessary now than ever.
“Whitaker, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be 100% honest with me, okay?” The other man only nods in response, hesitant and unsure. Robby takes a deep breath through his nose.
“Are you mated?”
For a brief moment, a flash of confusion washes over Whitaker’s face. A second later it’s gone, replaced by a look of realization, one that says ohhhh, right. I forgot. Robby has to stop himself from groaning in a mixture of disbelief and frustration.
“Um, yes. Yes, I am mated. Have been, the whole time,” Whitaker finally replies, looking like he might be sick all over the floor. Robby nods, feigning concession.
“Do you feel safe at home? Do you and your mate have a good relationship?”
“Of course. J— Joseph is a very loving, understand mate.”
“Well, that’s good,” Robby says kindly, condescension dripping from his words. “Except for the fact that you said his name was John on your application to the program.”
Whitaker’s face drops and he hisses out a word that sounds suspiciously like fuck. Robby is not amused.
“Whitaker, what you’ve done is extremely serious,” Robby explains, stern. “One of the higher-ups realized you had lied on your application to get into the emergency medicine rotation. This is not an offense that is easily excused.”
“Doctor Robby, I swear, I can explain.”
“Look, kid, I get it—”
“No you don’t!” Whitaker hisses back and, for a moment, Robby is impressed by his nerve. “After med school, every department was probably dying to get their hands on you. Because you’re extremely talented and intelligent and passionate, sure, but also because you’re an alpha.
Patients listen to you without question, members of staff follow you without a second thought because it’s basically ingrained in their blood. Meanwhile, I didn’t get even the pretense of a chance to study the medicine I wanted to. All because of a stupid designation I can’t even control!”
“Okay, you’re right, I don’t— can’t understand exactly what you’re going through,” Robby replies, holding his hands up in surrender as Whitaker gets more and more riled up. “The bottom line is: You lied and Gloria found out. That’s where we are.”
After a moment of consideration, Robby can’t help but add, “I mean, Jesus, Whitaker. You couldn’t make your lie even a little bit more believable? The whole hospital can see you don’t have a mating bite.”
“Thanks for adding insult to injury, Doctor Robby. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the finer details when I was trying to save my own ass,” Whitaker replies blandly, glaring. “What— What happens now?”
Robby heaves a sigh. “You either abandon your ER rotation early and be transferred to a department you have clearance to be in, or you will be unable to complete your education at Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center.”
“Christ, that is so unfair—“
“You lied, Whitaker!” Robby snaps, taking no delight in the way the med student immediately snaps his jaw closed. “I know this is unfair, I know you deserve to finish your time in the ER. You’re extremely talented and I would hate to have to let you go. But you lied and this is the consequence of that.”
Robby notices the way Whitaker’s breathing grows more rapid, his face contorting in a mixture of frustration and despair.
“I love working in emergency medicine, Doctor Robby. For the first time, I feel like I’m making a difference, like I belong here. Don’t you see how incredibly fucked up it is that I have to quit something I love, something I’m good at, just because of shitty stereotypes?”
The man’s sad eyes grow even sadder, slowly beginning to become glassy and christ has Robby ever seen Whitaker cry? In earnest? His stomach clenches, a cocktail of anger and sadness.
But it’s not just that, not if he’s being honest. As he looks down at Whitaker, desperate and angry, he simply can’t ignore the way his brain screams mine.
It’s Robby’s duty to take care of his staff, do whatever he can to defend and uplift them. It’s his stupid, asshole alpha-brain that transforms this desire to help into possession, into a feeling of mine and pack and claim.
Claim. The answer hits him square in the jaw.
“You have to. Because if you don’t, we’re fucked.”
“I mean, I’ll transfer to pedes or OBGYN if I have to, that’s how badly I want to make this whole thing work—”
“Whitaker.”
“And it would suck, obviously, not because those departments suck but because I’d essentially be forced to work in a department I’m not passionate about—”
“Whitaker.”
“But if I had the chance, I’d stay here, keeping showing everyone that I’m capable, regardless of if I’m—”
“Whitaker,” Robby finally snaps, a growl buried beneath his words, as he reaches out and grabs onto the man’s shoulders, grounding him to earth. “I will mate you.”
Silence. Then.
“I’m. I’m sorry?”
“I’ll tell Gloria we were mated the whole time, even before you joined the ER,” The words come rushing out of Robby’s mouth before his brain has a chance to screen them first, but he keeps going, can’t make himself stop. “I’ll tell her that I advised you to lie about your mate’s name and avoided obvious indicators that we were mated, like scenting you, so no one would catch on and believe you were being unfairly favored. But, after she threatened to have you moved to a different department, we both decided together to come clean so that you could stay.”
Silence again. Whitaker blinks back at him wordlessly a few times and, for a moment, Robby thinks he might just laugh in his face.
Finally, he asks, “Wouldn’t that be kind of an HR nightmare for you?”
It’s a better reaction than Robby had expected, honestly. Robby shrugs, much cooler than he feels.
“Gloria will be pissed beyond belief, both that I lied and that I’m mated to a med student. But she won’t fire me. Sure, I’m tenured, but she also can’t afford to lose me.”
When Whitaker begins to nod slowly in understanding, and Robby’s urge to go back in time before this conversation began starts to diminish, he knows they are well and truly fucked.
“How would we even sell it, though?”
“Well, for starters, you can wear a bandage on your neck,” Robby tells him, almost running his index finger along the length of Whitaker’s pale neck to his shoulder, digit hovering over him precariously.
“Why now, all of sudden? Isn’t that sort of suspicious?”
“Mating bites, especially shallower ones, have the potential to discolor after a long period of time. That’s why mates often bite each other periodically, to keep the bite from fading. We’ll say that, once we realized you’d be applying to work in PTMC, we completely stopped biting to keep anyone from catching on.”
“If the bite is fresh, it’ll make sense to bandage it, especially working in the ER,” Whitaker adds on, his demeanor continuing to grow with confidence. To Robby’s chagrin, he’s beginning to buy into this ridiculous plan he’s concocted as well.
Robby finds the sudden desire to ground himself, lest this get too out of hand. “Whitaker, it’s important that you realize what you’re signing up for here. You’ll be protected from the hospital’s regulations, but you’ll also face scrutiny from other members of staff. Plenty of stereotypes exist about omegas who screw the boss to get ahead.”
“They’ll get over it— they’ll have to once they see how much I can help,” Whitaker insists, before shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, it won’t really just be screwing, right? We’d be, um. Mated. That’s worth more than a fling, don’t you think?”
A flush rises to Whitaker’s cheeks and Robby simultaneously thanks and curses a god he doesn’t really believe in anymore for putting him in this position.
“If we do this, it needs to look real. Nothing too intense, obviously, we’re still at work, in the emergency department no less. But we’ll need to play our roles. We’ll— We’ll need to scent each other. Spend more time around each other, like we can’t get enough, like real mates. Make sure everyone believes it at a glance, undoubtably.”
Robby swears he can hear Whitaker take a sharp inhale at that but if he has any objections, he doesn’t voice them.
In fact, he says, “I want to stay here, Doctor Robby. I really am starting to feel like I belong, like I can make a difference. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.”
Before he can even begin to dwell on what the words whatever it takes do to him, Whitaker begins to frown, a confused glint in his big eyes. “But, what I’m having a hard time understanding is why you would put yourself on the line for this?”
The for me remains unspoken, but Robby hears it all the same.
Unable to resist, as always, Robby puts a hand on Whitaker’s shoulder, applying a comforting amount of pressure as he replies, “You show extreme promise, Whitaker. When I became the attending, I did it to help students find their passions and make a difference. I’m not about to let you slip through the cracks for such an insane reason.”
Is that all, though? Robby’s traitorous voice hisses in his mind. Not even going to mention the fact that his existence has unforeseeably haunted your waking moments? That your concern for him has far surpassed the typical relationship between attending and med student?
That maybe this is the one opportunity to figure out what any of this means?
“Thank you,” Whitaker replies, voice soft and earnest. Robby wants to lean into the sound, let his hands wander away from his shoulders, to places uncharted and regrettably desired.
Instead, he takes a step away, hand dropping limply from Whitaker’s shoulder. He holds the same hand out in front of them and commands, “Give me your phone.”
Whitaker immediately reaches into the pockets of his scrubs and pulls out his personal cell phone, without a second thought. Robby has the dark thought that their relationship as mates, as alpha and his omega, has already begun, but he pushes it away just as quickly.
He grabs Whitaker’s phone and types his number into it, saving it under, simply, Robby. He then hands it back, explaining, “We can discuss further details over the phone. We’ve been in here too long, I’m sure people will begin to wonder where we are.”
A slight smirks works its way onto Whitaker’s lips as he replies, “Kind of adds a bit more credence to our story though, right? Being alone together for long periods of time and all.”
The thought makes warmth glow in Robby’s belly, but he simply can’t bring himself to respond. The smirk never drops from Whitaker’s face, but he does turn towards the door to take his leave.
Hand on the doorknob, the other man turns back around to add, now extremely earnest, “Thank you, Doctor Robby. This means… More to me than I can even say.”
He twists the knob and, before he can go much further, Robby stops him with a, “Dennis.”
Desperate blue eyes lock onto his. Robby swallows hard, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. He gives the other man his own shameless smile in return.
“Maybe start getting used to Robby, or even Michael. It’s unusual for mates to refer to each other so formally, after all.”