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It had only been three weeks, not three months, and Robby was already parking his motorcycle back in her usual spot in the ambulance bay. Contrary to popular belief, three weeks was a really long time, especially to be alone with one's thoughts. It was good though, really, he'd needed it, even more than he or anyone else truly knew. He'd been in a bad fucking way before he'd left, all but hell bent on riding his way off this Earth, worried for the people he'd leave behind, but unable to take any of it anymore, needing for everything to stop.
On the road it did.
He'd turned his phone on aeroplane mode the moment that he'd sat his ass on the seat of that bike, and from then on it was just him, his bike, and the open road. The first week he was a lost soul out there, aimless, tired, wrecked, making dangerous choices and miraculously coming out unscathed. The second week was when his dark thoughts slowed down and made room for processing, and ruminating on the meaningful things said to him by the people in his life. People who cared for him, who wanted him to come back alive and in one piece. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard them before he'd left, he had, but he’d been unable to take it in, couldn't truly hear and comprehend what they were saying until his own demons quietened down enough.
Maybe they were right, maybe he should seek some professional help, it was working for Abbot, he hadn’t jumped off of the roof yet. Though, Robby could be a stubborn bastard at times, especially when it came to accepting help. Besides, sometimes therapy was finding a giant tree in a field and settling under it to cry until you had nothing left to come out. Sometimes it was sitting in a diner five hundred miles from home where nobody knew you or wanted anything from you, and treating yourself to a giant stack of pancakes with all of the toppings. And sometimes it was standing at the lip of a cliff, like the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, and deciding not to careen off of it to join all of the animals who had also been driven over the edge.
Week three, a more peaceful week. He was still mostly riding aimlessly, but with healing scars instead of leeching ones, and a clearer mind, not to mention a helmet on his head. He thought of the people who cared for him, who wished for him to return safely, and he missed them. The more he thought of home, the more he missed everything, missed the noise and business of The Pitt, missed the coffee shop down the road, missed his apartment, missed his bed, missed the man who often slept next to him. That was when he'd decided to go home, when he was too homesick to enjoy the solace of the open road any longer. He was ready now, the demons muzzled and locked away, the wariness gone, the impending feeling of doom and sorrow no longer looming.
To say that he was cured and entirely mentally healthy was a stretch, a big stretch, but he was in a better place now, somewhere he wanted to be, or at least could stand to be. Maybe he could even admit to himself, and to Caleb, that he needed some help, a little support, a professional to stop him from getting to that checked out state again. Now he just had to act on that…later, when he wasn’t busy and inevitably ran into Caleb, he had other people to see first.
He turned the engine off, kicked down the kickstand, and got off of the bike, unclipping his helmet as he walked in through the ambulance entrance. It was still early, day shift wouldn't start turning up for another hour, which meant that the night crawlers were still at it, and he could take a beat to reacclimate before he needed to switch on and get to work. Maybe a different entrance would've been better if he'd wanted to sneak in without being immediately noticed, but night shift were like blood hounds, they’d have sniffed him out within moments, even if he had taken a back entrance. A special breed for sure.
The artificial lights were bright, the noise bustling, and everyone was busy as usual, but heads still turned, there were whispers and waves mixed with raised eyebrows and confused greetings. From the corner of his eye, he saw one nurse lean into another to speak while staring at Robby, then she immediately ran off to trauma. The remaining nurse gave him a wave and a smirk and he knew what that meant, he had about one to five minutes – depending on the stability and severity of the trauma patient - before one particular person came looking for him.
After quickly dumping his stuff in his locker, and managing not to get stuck in conversation with anyone, he decided that the break room was probably the safest place to hide out until he was inevitably hunted down. Maybe he’d be able to drink a full mug of coffee while it was still warm before the start of his shift. Like that had ever happened, but he could dream. Look at his newfound optmisim.
Realising that he still had his phone on aeroplane mode from his trip, he switched it back to normal, and grimaced as he put his glasses on to watch hundreds of missed calls and texts roll in, dating all the way back to the night he’d left. There was no time to look at any of them though as the next minute there was a pissed off doctor in the doorway.
"Fucking Christ, it is you," Abbot gasped, face set like stone.
Robby was ready to say something cheesy like, 'Hey, honey I'm home', but he didn’t even get the first syllable out before he had the wind knocked out of him. Abbot slammed him back onto the table with force, and all but crawled on top of him, getting in his face while gripping the front of his jacket like a threat.
"No fucking word for three goddamn weeks, then you just fucking walk back in here??? No phone call!? Not even a goddamn text!? I was worried sick, you asshole!"
"I'm-" he didn't get to finish his sentence, or hardly even start it, because his mouth was suddenly occupied as Jack kissed him with an intensity that said more than words ever could.
"God, you're such an asshole," Abbot told him again, this time it was softer and his eyes were wet.
"I missed you too, Jack," Robby confessed easily, a hand pushing his glasses up onto his forehead before sinking into Abbot’s short hair, "I'm sorry, I love you," he added, knowing that they both needed to hear it.
Robby didn’t wait to bring their mouths back together for another fervent kiss, he needed at least another hundred more before he could even consider surfacing for air, or conversation, or work, or anything at all. Especially when he could feel Jack’s body language - something he had a fair amount of experience with - the way that Jack desperately clutched at his clothes and pressed Robby further into the table with his body, obvious signs that he wanted to rut against him and rip his clothes off.
There was so much obvious desire rolling off of Jack while they kissed, both possessive and loving, frustrated and restrained, that all Robby could think about was the fact that it was so good to be home, and that he couldn't wait for Jack to fuck him this passionately later when shift was over. Probably after getting berated some more, or while getting berated, it didn’t matter which, might be kind of hot even. Fuck, he just needed Jack to keep kissing him, and touch him more, lots more.
Damn, he’d missed Jack even more than he’d realised. Three weeks was a fucking long time.
"Uh, Doctor Abbott?" came a nurse’s voice from the doorway.
"Shit," Jack grumbled, eyes dark with lust as he pulled out of the kiss, lips shining with their mixed saliva, "yeah?" he queried over his shoulder, voice a little rougher than usual.
"Need you back in trauma, patient is tanking," the nurse reported professionally, as if she didn’t just catch the day and night attendings making out in the break room, despite the fact that it’d be the hot gossip before day shift even started.
"Crap, yep, I'll be right there," he replied with a frown that Robby desperately wanted to kiss. As he crawled back off of Robby, Jack gave him a chaste kiss, but bit and dragged out his lower lip as he pulled away only to then push Robby in the middle of the chest to keep him flat on the table, "Stay...don't want you wandering off while I'm gone, I'm not done with you."
A shiver ran through him, and he grinned, exhilarated, breathless, half hard, needy as fuck, "Yes, Doctor."
Abbot rolled his eyes, but the smirk betrayed him, and he threw a wink at Robby before rushing out of the door, fixing his stethoscope around his neck as he went.
Licking his lips, Robby rested on the table a moment, savouring the taste of his kiss, and the barely lingering scent of Jack’s subtle aftershave. He’d have to get up soon and get himself together, but for now he just smiled to himself, feeling more alive than he had in a long time. Damn it was good to be home.