Archive of Our Own ^beta

Through the combination of what must be a dozen witches’ spells, multiple deity blessings, and the luck of a four-leaf clover field, Jack Abbot gets married again.

Like all things in life, it starts with hospital administration paperwork.

Abbot waddles in just before 6:30 PM. He meets Robby at one of the computers he’s stationed at, and Robby can sense his intense stare even through the headache he feels forming.

“What has you in such a twist?” Abbot asks, leaning against the low counter.

“Oh, just starting these senior resident evaluations.”

“A little early, don’t you think?”

“If I start them now, they’ll be done by the time they're due in a few months.”

Robby hasn’t written such glowing reviews in many years. Mohan really stepped into her role during her senior resident year. She was always one of the most competent, quick-witted doctors he’s supervised.

The only problem he had with her was her tendency to get caught up on cases. Dwell on the sensitive moments when she was needed elsewhere, but even that habit seemed to disappear sometime during her leadership role. Something—or someone—had mellowed her out. Gave her a confidence boost.

Langdon had done some good work during his final year too. The only problem was that it took Robby a long time to see that.

Wherever he went during his ten month absence worked some sense into him. Rehab, therapy, NA meetings. Robby has reconciled with the fact that maybe a little help goes a long way.

He just hadn't expected for Langdon’s personality to transform into something so well-rounded. Compassionate, empathetic, and humble.

Those weren’t terms he used to associate with Langdon, but now, Robby’s typing them into his senior evaluation.

“That explains the swooning look on your face,” Abbot says.

Robby looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. He’s the last man on Earth to do something as demeaning as ‘swooning.’

“You’re gonna miss your guy.”

The endearing term bristles something in him. Robby narrows his eyes and yanks his glasses off.

“You know Doctor Mohan’s leaving too,” Robby suggests with a miffed tone.

Abbot shrugs. “I’m sure I’ll see her around.”

Robby pauses. He raises an even higher raised eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A silence lingers between them that Robby doesn’t recognize. For the first time in their shared life, is Jack Abbot finally quiet?

“Meet for drinks tomorrow?” Abbot suggests.

“...yeah, sure.”

Tomorrow turns into later that week, but eventually, they meet up at the same sports bar with the same corner booth they’ve huddled at for the last few years.

“Will you hear me out on what I’m about to tell you?” Jack says, and isn't that a glowing start to this conversation.

Robby snickers. “That’s always what I love to hear.”

“Samira and I are getting married.”

Robby’s grip on his beer nearly falters.  He waits for the punch line to come, but Abbot stares back at him with a resolutely serious face.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Would I do that to you, man?”

“Yes, you would.”

“Not about this.”

Abbot digs into the lower pocket of his cargo pants. He plops his wallet on the table and slides out a tiny polaroid.

It’s a picture of—after he puts on his glasses—Abbot and Mohan from the waist up. One of Abbot’s hands is wrapped around Mohan’s arm. His lips are pressed deeply into her cheek, crinkled from her massive grin.

Good god, he wasn’t kidding. They’re actually dating—no, engaged, and right under his nose too.

When Robby thinks back, it starts to make sense. From the strangely intimate moments he’s witnessed during their overlapping shifts, Robby can’t say he’s too surprised.

A little bewildered and caught off guard? Absolutely. It’s like seeing the sun and moon in the sky at the same time. Odd, but beautiful because of its eccentricity.

“Man, AI has become impressive,” Robby jeers.

“Now, you’re just being mean.”

Robby hands the photo back, still a little stunned. Abbot takes a moment to take the photo in again, smiling softly like it's the first time he's seen it, before tucking the polaroid back into his wallet.

“Congrats. You two deserve something good.”

There’s a tightness in his voice he hadn't expected. As if he was lying. Abbot doesn't comment either on the way Robby suddenly can't look him in the eyes.

“Thanks. I want you to be my best man.”

Yep. That’ll bring his attention back.

Robby whirls his head up. The intensely humorless look on Abbot’s face does nothing to soothe the feeling that he’s continuously being fucked with.

“You want the guy that didn't even know you were dating to be your best man.”

Abbot taps his drink, contemplating. “It’ll be a small ceremony, and Samira doesn't know many of my other folk."

It doesn't take much convincing for Robby to agree. He’s not so much of a disaster to turn down one of his closest friend’s genuine requests.

Besides, Robby can handle a small gathering for a few hours. Just Abbot, Mohan, some family, a couple friends. They’ll cut cake and say some quick vows and wave off the happy couple as they ride into the sunset.

This will be fine. He’s happy for them. He can express that and be there for them.

Since Jack appointed him best man a few weeks ago, it seems all hell has broken loose in regards to the wedding.

Robby isn’t sure how this has unfolded so horrifically. It was just supposed to be a couple people, he thinks, scrolling through the RSVP list one more time.

Robby, Jack’s older sister, his mother. A cousin, maybe, that he used to be pretty close with in that way that naturally clicks when you’re young and forced in a room together by your parents.

(Not that Robby would know. He’s an only child without any cousins that he knows about.)

Ever the social butterfly, Jack ends up extending invites to friends from the various groups he’s a part of, most of whom intend on bringing a plus one.

Samira’s clunky laptop refreshes, and two new names pop up on the RSVP list. He sees from his peripheral vision how Samira’s face twists in discomfort.

He's not sure how he became so enmeshed in the process. It's a little like staring too closely at a bulb and the bright light imprinting on the inside of his eyelids, but here he is, sitting side-by-side at Jack's kitchen island with Samira on their day off.

Another surprise is how enthused Samira is about the concept of a wedding, and this whole process teaches Robby more about Samira than the four years he spent as her mentor.

Maybe that’s his fault. Her intense passion for emergency medicine made him forget she had other joys in life to look forward to.

He thinks she forgot that for a bit too. It’s why the wedding isn’t scheduled to happen until after her senior residency is finished.

Two weeks afterwards, actually, at the insistence of Samira’s mother. It’s the only time all the family can make it. Apparently.

‘Family,’ Robby realizes, is a term Samira’s mother uses with the thinnest definition.

The invite gets extended to her mother’s boyfriend, friends, coworkers, game night rivals. Just about anyone who talks to Samira’s mother is now invited to the joint Abbot-Mohan ceremony.

That doesn't include the plethora of Pitt staff that declared their intent to attend after news of their engagement got scattered across the halls by god knows who.

They’re all practically self-invites, but Samira and Jack have come to the decision that it would not be the end of the world if some additional people get added to the cluster fuck that is their current RSVP list.

He reads off the names in his mind, finger scrolling through the pile of coworkers on the list. Their names clump together like they all accepted the digital invites at the same time.

Parker Ellis

John Shen

Victoria Javadi

Trinity Santos (+1)

Dennis Whitaker

Cassie McKay

Frank Langdon

Donnie Donahue (+1)

Mel King

Frank Langdon

Frank Langdon

Frank Langdon

Frank Langdon

Robby leans back from the laptop and rubs two hands under his glasses. His eyes slam shut, willing out the name that sticks glued to the inside of his eyelids.

He pushes the laptop far down the kitchen island. There’s no reason to punish himself looking at all those names for any longer than necessary.

“Fucking hell, Samira,” he grumbles. “Are you sure your venue can hold this many people?”

“It’s a country-side inn,” she says, but he can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “The website claims it can withstand up to three hundred guests.”

She says ‘withstand’ like they’re a fucking hurricane blowing through a field of fences. With the way the Pitt crew parties, maybe that’s not entirely inaccurate, and who knows how crazy either side of the wedding party…well—parties.

“The management team assured us that the venue has enough space. The bedding situation won't be too bad either, since not everybody will be staying the night.”

Shame on him for assuming Samira hasn’t looked at this event from every angle. Apparently, this has been something she’s been fantasizing about since her teen years.

“You are sleeping over at the venue, right?”

“Yes, Samira. If I make any changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.”

Her shoulders don't let down as she scrolls through the list for the third time that morning. He taps a knuckle against the granite countertop, and Samira looks up with a confused, almost frenzied look.

“You’ve handled much crazier shit,” Robby assures. “Hell, I watched you do a retrograde intubation through a neck wound last week.”

“This is different. I just don't really appreciate how soon this is happening. My mother’s whirlwind antics keep affecting all of my plans, and—”

Samira sighs, her fingers slamming against the keyboard as she furiously types.

“I love her. I really do.”

“When is family not complicated?” Robby offers with a sad smile.

Samira tilts her head, mimicking his expression. His reflection in her frightens him just enough to knock him silent for a while.

“You still need to find a bridesmaid,” Robby says eventually.

She groans, rolling her eyes. “I don't really have anyone for that. My cousin and I aren't that close, and I don’t know anyone that my mother is bringing.”

He takes a moment to think. “There’s still enough time to ask me. I’ve been told I look good in frills.”

Samira looks up at him with the most outraged, bewildered look he’s ever seen from her. He can’t hold back the little laugh.

“Damn straight he does.”

They both turn around to see Jack skipping down the stairs. He runs a towel over his damp hair as he circles the kitchen island.

“As…tempting as that offer is,” Samira starts, “I think I’ll just stick with no bridal party. Jack’s not doing a bachelor's party either.”

She throws the last statement out like an accusation. Jack shrugs and sticks his head into the refrigerator.

“If I had a party, It’d practically be the reception. I’d rather use that time more productively.”

“Well, while you sleep in, the rest of us will be making the drive up,” Robby comments.

The venue sits somewhere in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Just on the border of New Jersey and four hours away from Pittsburgh.

He’s not looking forward to the ache on his body that the drive will pose, but hopefully it’ll be nice enough weather for him to take his motorcycle.

“Did you figure out a plus one?” Jack asks, his voice an echo in the fridge.

“Any plus one I would invite is already attending,” Robby says.

“What about that nurse from the ICU?”

Samira’s head swivels in his direction. “You’re seeing someone at work?”

It’s jarring revealing personal details to someone who is technically still his direct subordinate. The lines between personal and professional were bound to blur at some point in the process.

Robby grimaces. “We haven't spoken in a while.”

What he really means is that she wanted something more from him, and he was not interested in that. He caved into his baser instincts and fled—again.

Jack must read that thought on his face. He shuts the refrigerator with his foot, wincing with him.

“Sorry, man.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone at the wedding you’ll like,” Samira suggests.

He looks down at her with a raised eyebrow, his own version of her perplexed reaction from earlier.

“I’ve read over that list five times now. If that’s the dating pool, then I’d rather stay single.”

Jack pops the lid off his protein shake. It’s not even flavored to cover the horrid taste. Just straight health nut shit. He grins even after taking a humongous sip.

“You never know. Someone may show up that rocks your socks off.”

“I would hope my socks stay on at an event with our coworkers.”

Samira’s face twists with disgust, and he’s right there with her. Jack laughs and circles the counter to join them.

When Samira refreshes the RSVP list, three new names pop up. They all groan.

It’s going to be a long couple of months.

Because it’s certainly not his wedding, Robby doesn’t hear much about the specifics.

He gathers a few insights as the months trickle on. Most of the information comes from Jack. Occasionally, Samira will slide beside him with an unpleasant look that Robby caves into as well.

“What’s with the sour face?” Robby asks.

“I don't have a sour face,” she snaps.

He stares at her with a raised eyebrow. After a few seconds, her face scrambles to catch up with the tone of her voice. Shock unfolds on her face as she pulls out her phone and tilts the screen towards him.

It’s a picture of her in a mirror. A long dress that flows down to the floor wraps around her body. It’s rich red with specks of gold, like a fresh strawberry and its seeds.

“I went looking for a saree yesterday, but I’m not sure which one I like. What do you think?”

“I think I’m the last person you should be asking. Don’t women usually go with their mothers to these things?”

He sees his words immediately sink into her skin, dragging her pout into a full-on frown. With a grumble, Robby slides his glasses on and grabs the phone.

Her smile in the photo is mute despite the gorgeous red fabric flowing over her. It's a thin smile too, like she was caught off guard despite the fact she’s the one who took the picture.

“Do you like it?” Robby asks.

He looks from over his glasses at Samira’s ply mouth. She stares back at him, strangely quiet.

“I’m no expert, but I think that is what matters the most.”

Robby hands the phone back, and Samira eyes the picture with a frown. Maybe someone said something to her. A shop clerk, a relative, someone passing by.

“Trust your gut,” Robby eventually settles on.

She turns her doubtful expression onto him. “That’s…the first time I’ve heard you say that to me.”

He shrugs. “It’s your wedding, not emergency medicine.”

Jack shares a bit of his side of the wedding spectacle as well. 

“My sister’s going crazy over this,” Jack grumbles, scrolling on his laptop.

Robby shrugs, eyes on the game the TV is playing. “Her baby brother’s getting married.”

“Yeah, I get that part, but she’s acting like we need to record every damn second.”

Robby leaves his beer on the couch-side table and leans over towards the laptop. Apparently Jack’s sister has purchased for the loving couple a deluxe photography and videography package.

“You could always say no,” Robby says.

The grimace on Jack’s face and the way he swallows his words suggests that the words ‘no thank you’ do not have much meaning in their relationship.

“Forget I said anything.”

Jack laughs into his palm, but it's a painful chuckle lacking any humor.

“At least my misery will be captured in all its glory.”

“So long as they get your good side.”

Jack stares up at him with a flat look. “Every side’s my good side.”

“Uh–huh.”

Once the fine details of the wedding have been tuned, it sort of falls on Robby’s back burner. There’s always bigger fish to fry, and besides, if either of them need his help, Robby has told them he’s available to help.

Like now. Except Robby didn’t mean for his help to extend past best man duties. He doesn’t know how he got roped into setting up cupcakes in the breakroom for Samira’s last day at the Pitt.

Langdon’s last day too, his brain supplies ever so helpfully.

With all dangerous thoughts, Robby does what he does best and shoves them deep into the folds of his brain.

He can’t think about how today will be the last day Langdon walks into his ER. The last time they will work cases side-by-side. The last day that Langdon will walk up to him with that beaming smile and ask for his input and share a stupid joke or—

Fuck.

He’s doing it again.

It’s hard not to think about it, especially as the gentle flame of the lit candle stuck haphazardly into the sweet frosting twinkle in Langdon’s eyes. He looks a second away from bursting into laughter, smile twitching at both corners.

It must be because they’re singing ‘Happy Birthday’...for some reason. After no one could compose a brilliant and emotionally wrought speech, Princess had burst into song, and several others trailed after.

The lights are off to provide what someone had described as a ‘celebratory atmosphere,’ but his mind still tries its best to take a picture of this moment. Save it for later to hold something good in his head.

Samira, confused and speechless, glancing around the room with wide doe eyes. Langdon standing beside her, face tucked down into the glow of the candles.

Robby can’t tell if the tight feeling in his chest is messing with his senses or if that really is a charming blush dusting Langdon’s face.

Just as Robby recognizes that his heart is hammering away in his ears, the birthday song comes to an end. Samira and Langdon look at each other, hesitant, before blowing out the candles before them.

They stand and nod their heads as a rancorous applause fills the room. It’s filled with appreciation and adoration and love in a way that stings.

People hoard the table, grabbing a cupcake before the next inevitable patient can snatch their precious snack time away. Robby steps away, planning his silent escape, but Langdon’s body suddenly appears before him.

“Hey, boss,” Langdon says. “Not grabbing a cupcake?”

Robby stares hard at the chocolate cupcake in Langdon’s grasp. “I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”

“No?”

Langdon takes a bite. A greedy, ginormous bite, if Robby says so himself. When he moves his hand down, a glob of frosting paints his upper lip. Langdon doesn’t seem to notice.

“You going to Mohan and Abbot’s wedding?”

“I’m the best man, so I guess that means I should go.”

“Oh, hey, that’s cool. Are you—uhh. Bringing a plus one?”

The little stutter in Langdon’s voice is perplexing. It’s just a tiny hitch, but Robby’s mind latches onto it.

“Nope.” Robby rocks on his heels, once, before feeling courageous enough to ask, “You bringing Abby?”

A dry laugh leaves Langdon's mouth. “I don't think Abby’s new boyfriend would appreciate me bringing her as a plus one.”

Langdon takes another humongous bite, devouring the cupcake. Another dollop of frosting smears the corner of his mouth.

“So, I’m going by myself,” Langdon announces in between obnoxious bites.

Amused, Robby huffs. He doesn't even have the mental capacity to question why he’s so damn pleased to hear that Langdon is flying solo. 

Not when Langdon’s staring back at him with such a ridiculous look, drawn together eyebrows and frosting smudging his mouth. If he tilts his head just a smidge, he’d look like a dazed little dog.

Or a large dog, considering the fact he’s one of the few people taller than Robby. It’s actually a bit startling to have someone at his eye level.

Startling. Yeah, that’s the word.

Robby points to his own lip, gesturing. “You got something on your….”

“Oh.”

Langdon smears a helpless hand over the wrong corner, wiping at nothing. He looks back up at Robby.

“I got it?”

“Not at all.”

“Damn.”

Despite the hilarity that is watching Langdon’s delicate lack of coordination, it gets to a point where even Robby starts to feel a bit pitiful.

The room filters out around him, leaving an oddly serene silence that Robby can’t feel. His nerves jitter with shaky anticipation as he raises a hand to Langdon’s face.

It’s amazing how much power his finger holds—how much power Langdon lets him hold. One touch to Langdon’s face, and he’s frozen still.

Robby swipes a thumb, gentle as possible, over the top of Langdon’s lip. He’s warm and trusting, staring a hole straight through Robby’s head like he’s trying to worm himself inside.

He does not need Langdon reading his thoughts right now. Not that Robby knows himself what he’s doing or why.

When some frosting remains, Robby wipes his knuckles across the skin. Now, Langdon seems more present, tracing Robby’s every move with dazed eyes.

Robby pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. Langdon opens, and Robby swears to everything that if Langdon fucking thanks him for that, he’ll burn this hospital down with those stupid candles.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, Robby swipes a tongue at the frosting there. It’s a store-bought saccharine texture that lingers on his tongue.

After a second lick of his knuckles, Robby wonders how much of the sweetness is from Langdon.

Robby thinks Langdon is doing a very horrible impression of remaining calm. He swallows, eyes bouncing around Robby’s face.

“I thought you didn't like sweet stuff.”

“I don’t.”

Langdon sucks his lips in. He has the deranged wonder if Langdon can taste the salt of Robby’s skin.

“If you wanted a taste, you could have just asked.”

Oh, fucking Jesus.

“Robby!”

Thank god.

“Yes!”

Robby twirls around to find Dana brightening the doorway. She flicks the lights back on, and she might as well have doused Robby in a bucket of ice cold water.

“Trauma at the door. Three minutes.”

“Yes, okay. Good.”

Robby starts to march towards the door, but he turns to look at Langdon, statue-still but eyes beaming with life.

He holds Langdon there, hanging him in a moment of buzzing anticipation, before declaring, “let’s go.”

With a nod and a sudden burst of energy, Langdon bounds out of the room with him.

Always with him. Always on Robby’s side, right where Robby needs him.

Right where Robby, he realizes with some horror and fascination, wants him.

The day of the wedding arrives with little fanfare on Robby’s behalf. He meets the to-be wedded couple at the venue bright and early. His motorcycle sits at the entrance of the massive parking lot, a promise for the chaos that will unfold very soon.

One of the wedding coordinators, an older woman dressed in a sharp black suit that probably costs more than Robby’s entire wardrobe, leads him to the groom’s room. They walk through the massive hallways, shoes click-clacking against the black tile floors.

He should have timed the walk to Abbot's room, because Robby thinks at least eight minutes must have passed. It's a ridiculously massive venue, but by the time Robby enters his room, he still has the breath to whistles low at the sight of Abbot in his crisp button-up.

“What do you think?” Jack says, arms wide.

“I think Samira’s a lucky woman.”

Jack huffs. “I’m the one who’s lucky here.”

A blinding flash of light snags Robby’s attention. He squints and watches a man in all black step out from the shadows of the room, expensive, blocky camera in hand.

“Sorry!” The man says. “Just testing out the settings.”

“Are you sure you're so lucky,” Robby asks, looking towards Jack, “because I think you’ve got a stalker in your room.”

“Told you the camera people were going to be everywhere.” Jack looks over his shoulder towards the photographer. “No offense.”

“None taken. We get this reaction a lot more than you’d think.”

Robby tries his best to ignore the constant click-click-clicking happening behind him every so often. Jack must be used to the sound by now, but that doesn’t mean he looks any less bothered.

They catch up about how the rest of the day may go, last minute details and the like, but when Jack’s sister barges into the room with an even more irritated expression, Robby knows it's his time to flee.

Robby hobbles down the venue’s luxurious stairs, sliding his hand across the ornate guardrail. Before he can even reach the bottom, he spots Samira deep in conversation with another woman.

Her eyebrows are high and tight, head nodding but mind probably anywhere else but the present. When she sees Robby on the stairs, her eyes plead for help.

Usually, he’d take this moment to slip away, because he’s not sure he wants to get in between whatever heated moment this is but, Jesus, it’s her fucking wedding day. She shouldn't have to deal with this today.

The woman Samira is with looks over her shoulders. Her face shuts, a smile closing the gates to whatever expression she was wearing before.

“Who is this, Samira?”

“This is Jack’s friend—and my coworker, Doctor Robby.”

“Gosh, so many doctors in one building!”

Robby smiles, but it's a thin, tight lip look that probably doesn't convince a single person. He turns to Samira with a quick inhale, blurting the first lie that comes to mind.

“Nice to meet you. Samira, the photographer’s lookin’ for you.”

“Uhm—"

Robby gives Samira a pointed look, raising an eyebrow. Her head bobs in an unnatural up-and-down movement, a poor imitation of a nod.

"Right! Okay, I’ll see you later. Again, thank you for coming!"

Robby hovers a hand over Samira’s shoulder, leading her towards the staircases as she waves goodbye to the woman. She waves back, but stays put at the bottom of the staircase. When they reach halfway up the stairs, Samira stops him with a puzzled look.

“I thought we already took the pre-ceremony pictures. Is something wrong with them?”

Robby raises his hands. “Nothing’s the matter. I just figured you would rather be relaxing than speaking with…?”

Samira whirls her head around before looking back up with a hesitant smile.

“My mom’s nail artist.”

“Ahh. So….”

“Right. Uhm—the photographer. I’m going to go that way.”

Robby motions a hand towards the nearest exit and rotates out of the way. She nods at him and sprints up the stairs.

Just as he’s about to find an escape path himself, the nail artist approaches him, laying a hand on his bicep.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met.”

He blinks. “No, we have not.”

“Do you mind showing me where we’re supposed to go? This place is just enormous.”

That’s how Robby ends up manning the front entrance. He blames the venue’s company for only sending three wedding coordinators to handle a nearly two hundred person event.

“Hey, Robby! Lookin’ snazzy, man.”

McKay waves at him from across the hallway. Like some kind of portal to the underworld, several Pitt staff members make their way over to him. Most of them must have carpooled together if they're arriving in hoards like this.

Robby tries not to roll his eyes, but he feels…visually loud in his tailored light gray suit with its stupid tiny pocketsquare. It’s the most amount of care he’s put into his wardrobe in possibly decades.

“Welcome, welcome,” Robby says over the click-click of their heels and pointed shoes.

“What are you—the bell hopper?” Dana asks, an arm curled around her husband’s elbow.

“Benji, nice to see you.” Robby then eyes Dana. “Just making things easier for Jack and Samira.”

Dana levels him with a look, and Robby scratches his beard. "The coordinators mistook me for one of them."

“I can see why," she laughs. "You’re all glammed up.”

Robby’s suit feels a bit tighter everywhere. It’s constricting in an uncomfortable way like a packed elevator, so he chooses to ignore the comment instead and turns to the crowd forming around him.

“Everyone—behave. Be nice. Party hard.”

He points them in the direction of the main ceremonial room and hopes that a group of competent doctors can figure their way through an inn.

It’s difficult to not spot the man walking in behind the rest of the crowd.

He’s just the right height for his startling blue eyes to be the first thing Robby sees. It almost distracts him enough from seeing how snatched the suit is on his toned body.

“Hey, boss,” Langdon murmurs. Is that quiver in his voice…timidity? “Been a while, right?”

It’s been two weeks since he’s last seen Langdon.

It’s only been two weeks, but the panicky beat-beat-beat in his chest tells him it feels closer to years for his brain.

“You look sharp,” Robby says instead of the several other thoughts suddenly running through his head.

His voice sinks an octave, gravely and husky. He hadn't meant for that to come out so…lewd.

Luckily, Langdon doesn't seem to take offense. His fingers twiddle with the belt loops of his dress pants.

“Not too bad yourself,” Langdon murmurs. 

Robby’s body prickles with the intensity of Langdon’s stare. His pointed eyes roam up, then down, then up again in a slow roll.

Fuck.

Did he just flirt back at Robby?

Not that Robby had flirted with Langdon in any way, or had any intention to continue lavishing him with compliments on how his dark suit seems to perfectly mold around the curves of his body, and the snappy edge of the his plum button-up borders the tan of Langdon’s neck. Cages in the smoothness of his skin all the way up his chiseled jaw and gelled back hair that Robby has the sudden urge to run his fingers through—

Shit.

“Hey, it seems like you're busy MCing,” Langdon comments. He doesn't let Robby’s glare shut him up, because he adds, “I can save you a spot?”

He bumps a fist against Robby’s arm, and the mere brush of his hand against the cloth of his suit sends a fluttery warmth over his skin. A heat that turns the suit a clammy, restricting straight jacket. It's uncomfortable in a new, fascinating way that's different from before.

“Thanks, but the planners have me sitting in the front row.”

Distance. Yeah, distance will do him some good.

He’s not sure if he can keep his eyes off the fine figure Langdon cuts in that suit if only a few measly chairs keep them apart.

Langdon takes the light rejection in style. He bumps his hand again against Robby’s arm before pocketing both. He waggles his eyebrows and leans in close.

“We get to see you walk down the aisle like this? That should be fun.”

It’s a joke, but the way Langdon’s voice drops at the word ‘fun' makes Robby think he’s about to give a pole dancing show to the crowd.

“Laugh it up,” Robby grumbles, face hot and mouth twitching into a smile.

“I’ll see you inside then, boss.”

His head swivels like an owl to watch Langdon prance away. Damn him. He looks confident even from the back. It took a while to realize it was a good look on him.

“Oh, are you alright, hon?” An older woman asks, hand curled over her mouth. “You look feverish.”

Fucking Langdon.

Robby scratches his beard, clearing his expression as best as he can as he looks back forward.

“I’m alright, ma’am. Why don’t I escort you to your seat?”

“Ohhh, a personal escort? Don’t let me forget to save a dance for you.”

He smiles, aiming for pleasant and easy. She places a hand in his open palm.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

They head together to the main entrance, and she deposits her in the row with her name. He gets a wink and a finger wave for his troubles, and he smiles thinly back at her.

The actual ceremony is a disaster.

Yes, the nice breezy weather and the colossal trees surrounding them provide a cool shade. 

Yes, Samira looks stunning as she walks down the aisle, sunlight  that trickles through the leaves glinting on the gold of her jewelry. Her mother walks down the aisle at Samira's side, and Jack looks awestruck, fondness dampening his eyes.

Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t a disaster, but it feels like one.

Robby’s heart hammers in his chest watching Samira and Jack hold hands at the altar, gripping tight to one another like life lines drifting at sea.

Robby blinks the stinging dewiness in his eyes, begging his body to just calm down.

It took Robby a few weeks, but he understands now why he had been so unsettled during Abbot’s confession.

It’s jealousy. Seething, simmering jealousy.

He craved when he had—a person to call his own who sees Robby as someone they want to call theirs. An equal ‘to have and to hold’ relationship that he’s never quite experienced before.

When Samira and Jack walk back down the stone pathway to the tune of cheers and hollers, Robby can’t stop himself from looking to the other side of the room.

It’s easy to find Langdon’s eyes. They’re a shade too bright to not stand out on their own. 

Langdon is bellowing rather ridiculously, lithe arms clapping high above his beaming face. McKay’s beside him, clapping with more decorum, but still just as adoring.

Like a magnet, Langdon lowers his arms and looks over towards Robby. A shock melts over his face before he grins again.

Can he hear Robby’s thoughts? He always had the inkling that Langdon knew him too well to be entirely healthy. Maybe it's his fault for encouraging it—for indulging and craving the intimacy of being known.

That's why, when Langdon waves at him from the opposite side of the aisle, Robby smiles. Something small, unnoticeable even, but he knows Langdon sees it.

Through the blur of hands clapping and arms waving, he sees Langdon’s grin grow into a bewitching smile.

The itinerary has four different time slots for pictures, in which Robby has to be present for three of them. The curses of being the best man.

Wedding photographers must make a fortune with how often Samira and Jack get photographed, but the whole procedure eventually becomes something enjoyable.

The evening breeze settles the bundle of goosebumps on the back of his neck, and seeing Jack and Samira regale in their conjoined happiness is no small thing either.

After what feels like an entire shift at the Pitt, the photographer allows him to leave. He makes a straight beeline to one of the several bathrooms on the main floor.

Besides his sun-tinted cheeks and wrinkled suit, he looked passable. After splashing water on his face, he swipes a hand down his jacket.

Actually, can he just take the damn thing off already? It’s July, for fuck’s sake. There's no reason for him to still be in long sleeves.

It’s not his wedding, after all, he thinks bitterly.

Just as he gets both his arms out of the jacket, the bathroom door slams open. The figure in the doorway jumps, startled by the booming echo they caused.

He should have known Langdon would find him. A part of Robby wonders if he’s got some kind of internal GPS for him. A compass that points to him instead of North.

“Hey” Langdon says, and at least he sounds surprised to have run into Robby. “What brings you here?”

“It’s a bathroom. You’re free to take a guess.”

Langdon closes the door and stands just in front of Robby. His fingers curl around the thick material of his suspenders.

“Wow, suspenders. Are these your old ones from when you were a newspaper boy?”

Is he talking to him? Robby’s tongue lays useless in his mouth. Langdon isn't helpful either. His hands slide down the thick material, the backs of his fingers brushing against his shirt.

Through the fabric’s tightness, he can feel Langdon. His warmth and ruggedness and gentleness.

A swip snapping noise drags Robby from his thoughts.

The tingle in his chest is strange, but not when his brain catches up and realizes that the strange noise in the air is him grunting from Langdon pulling the suspenders taunt and snapping them back—on his nipples.

“Are you flirting with me, Frank?”

For the first time all evening, Langdon has the decency to actually look shy. His cheeks dust pink as he swallows.

“Is that a problem?”

To actually hear him admit presents a daunting dilemma.

Either he encourages Langdon’s seduction and engages in what will probably be the worst idea ever, because they’re in a public bathroom, and Langdon keeps looking at him like he’s the reason the world spins on its axis.

Wait, what was the other option?

Langdon’s arms wilt, his hands deflating to the bottom of his suspenders with a loose grip. He bats his eyes, heavy and worried.

“Let's pretend I didn't just—”

God, he should have done this sooner. Who knew kissing Langdon would keep him quiet? 

There’s a weird nook in his heart that fights between the desire to hear Langdon’s warm voice again and to keep kissing him.

“Fuck,” Langdon swears, pulling away. “Robby, you really want to—?”

“Shut up.”

That damn exhilarating grin smears across Langdon’s face. He pummels into Robby, wrapping both arms around his neck. Robby holds a hand against the wall for stability as Langdon presses kisses into the thick of his beard.

That’s Langdon. Give him an inch, he’ll get a rocket to take thousands of miles around the Earth. Always going above and beyond, taking and giving back double.

Langdon’s lips are soft. Much plumper than he was expecting, and Robby dreads the idea that he was expecting this.

He nips at Robby’s lips. A hint of tongue slips into his mouth, and Robby’s got the idea that Langdon wants to swallow him whole.

“I could,” Langdon pants.

Dazed, Robby leans back against the wall. The tile cools the heat buzzing all down his body.

“What?”

“I could swallow all of you,” Langdon coos, “if you wanted.”

Had he said that out loud? He’s more screwed in the head than he thought.

“Right here?” Robby asks like a dare.

A leg slips between Robby’s, and he feels Langdon slide onto his thigh. He feels the outline of Langdon’s bulge, half-hard and warm where he ruts against him in tiny, barely-there movements.

Fuck.

Robby could do it right here too.

He wants to know what Langdon looks like under that stupid suit. How he sounds when Robby gets a hand on him. If he’s as mouthy and annoyingly loud in bed as he is outside.

A hand on Robby’s crotch mutes every thought. Blood and heat and pleasure courses south as Langdon massages the front of his trousers.

“Can I?” Langdon mutters against his lips, voice high with need.

“You wanna get your mouth on me?”

Langdon nods, a furious up and down motion that silences any thought of logic in Robby’s head.

There’s a desperate brimming in his own body, hot and heavy. He needs to see Langdon’s lips, the ones that are surprisingly plump, around his cock.

Langdon grins, latching to the side of Robby’s neck. He presses wet kisses that send shivers dancing up his spine. Fingers start prying Robby’s shirt from his pants, bare skin brushing against the curls of his happy trail.

Robby’s eyes make the mistake of leaving Langdon’s lithe body and towards the door, the open space behind him that reminds him where the fuck they are right now.

“Fuck—what time is it?”

Langdon jams a wrist between their chests. “Uhh, 5 o’clock.”

“It’s five already? Shit, I’ve got a best man speech to give.”

As soon as Langdon crawls out of his lap, which he’s not even sure is a phrase he can use if they’re both standing up, Robby attempts to tuck his shirt back into his pants.

“I rounded up. It’s 4:54 right now. That’s enough time to get back.”

Pausing, Robby glares up at Langdon. What an idiot.

He pretends the jittery warmth spreading in his chest is from the good liquor he had in between events and shoves his hands into his pants.

Robby curses under his breath as his hands fumble with the hem of his shirt. The fabric isn't laying stiff and straight like it should, bunching in a noticeably odd fashion.

“Can’t believe I’m standing here getting convinced to let you give me a blowjob when I’m supposed to be with the bride and groom.”

“So, it’s working?”

Langdon’s single hand to his belt buckle is like a train wreck. Everything zips from a thousand to zero at the sight of his fingers undoing the notches in his belt.

Robby tears his eyes away to look up and find Langdon smirking.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything naughty. Relax.”

The dreamy coo in his voice does little to reassure him, but he doesn't put a stop to Langdon’s hands.

He probably should.

Langdon flickers his eyes up at him as he pushes the button of his dress pants out of the hole. There’s a fire in his eyes still that sets Robby’s face aflame.

Yeah, he definitely should put an end to this. 

There's no way Jack will let him live this down.

Being late to his best man’s speech at Jack’s wedding? Their friendship has survived worse.

But, showing up with a hard on? Oh, Jack would have a fucking field day. He'd be the laughing stock of their messages for at least a year.

“You’re not proving your point,” Robby mutters.

“You’re not stopping me either.”

Langdon’s fingernail dinks against the zipper. He teases the metal down an inch, brushing a finger against his half hard boner tenting his boxers. A flush burns at the tip of Robby’s ears.

“Frank,” Robby warns, voice raspy and shaky.

“I’m just offering a helping hand,” he assures.

His hands shift, moving quickly and fisting the bottom of his shirt. Langdon tucks the hem into his pants. Then, just as fast, he zips his pants back up and snaps his belt back into place.

Robby’s hips jut up with the motion. For a brief second, he’s rutting against Langdon’s crotch, and a shock of heat runs up his spine. 

Robby’s hand twitches towards that electrifying space between them—that area where no space exists and they’re just grinding against one another.

Langdon steps back, but the look in his eyes and the way his tongue tastes his bottom lip makes him look as though he’s about to jump Robby again.

He wouldn't have the strength or desire to stop him. He swallows down the urge to plead.

“There,” Langdon states. “Like nothing happened.”

Yeah fucking right.

His heart is still hammering in his chest. When he looks over at the mirror, he’s a mess.

Robby rubs a hand down his beard to shape the tight curls. He ignores the way the front of his pants are still extremely tight around his bulge.

At least Langdon’s in the same predicament, swearing up a storm trying to pat his hair back down to its naturally flawless look that only happens when ten different products are used.

(It’s charming in a weird way. Just another intimate quirk about Langdon that will stick with him for the rest of his life. He chooses to ignore that last part as well.)

There’s a tent in his pants too that Robby can’t drag his eyes away from. Langdon catches him staring in the reflection of the mirror and smirks.

“Do I look good?” Langdon asks.

“I think you know you do.”

“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”

A sigh drops from Robby’s lips. He swallows the prickling desire climbing up his throat.

“Maybe I should just show you instead.”

A lovely flush drapes across his face. Langdon ducks his head, biting his lip. He curls over the sink, and Robby’s hands shake. He wants to grab him and pull their bodies together and—

The slam of the door is the only thing strong enough to catch Robby’s attention.

His body jumps in the air. He twirls to find Ellis standing in the bathroom doorway, breathing heavy with a hand slammed on the door.

“There you are,” she sighs.

“You know this is the men’s restroom, right?” Langdon asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ellis’ lips press in an unimpressed thin line. She turns to Robby with an even more agitated look. “You’re going to miss the speeches.”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin,” Robby grumbles. “Since when did I die and make you MC?”

“About five minutes ago when Abbot started breathing down my neck about this. You know this big crowd’s got his head spinning in all different directions.”

“Trust me, I’m aware.”

Their feet stomping down the black tile hallways echoes throughout the inn. A whirl of doors and stairs, doused in a gentle orange glow that does nothing to settle his nerves, speed past them. He readjusts his hold on the suit's jacket over the front of his pants.

“I feel like some Scooby-Doo chase sequence is about to commence,” Langdon comments behind them, breathless and amused.

“It might just become that if I don’t get this one back in time.”

With Ellis’ guidance, they reach the main room with a minute to spare.

Jack and Samira are finally back inside, now with the photographer attached to their hips. His eyes find Jack across the room, and they bound towards each other and meet in the middle.

Jack hovers a hand in the air, looking Robby up and down. His face freezes in a way that makes Robby feel like he’s been caught.

“Where’s your head at, brother?"

Robby scratches his beard. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Right,” Jack says, slow and doubtful. “Well, your speech is after my sister’s—and she’s been itching to start.”

“Very Type A.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but he doesn't deny it. He points Robby to where he can wait across the room. Robby’s just glad he doesn't offer him a seat at the family table. That’s far too intimate for his comfort zone.

It takes almost half an hour to get through the list of speeches. His feet cramp up by the end of Jack’s sister’s loving, if not overly formal, speech.

“How proper,” Robby mutters under his breath.

“Who works ‘hermetic’ into a wedding toast?”

The echo of his own thoughts scares him. He whirls around, wondering who heard him, but only is met with Langdon’s face instead.

“She’s a lawyer,” Robby says over the rush of his blood.

“That tracks. Wonder if she took philosophy in undergrad.”

Langdon licks his bottom lip like he’s giving genuine thought to a stranger’s academic background. He turns to Robby with eyes that glow bright in the unlit corner of the room Robby chose to hide in.

“You’re up next, right?” At Robby’s nod, Langdon offers a gentle smile. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

The encouragement isn't needed. He’s delivered hundreds of speeches during his time as an attending. Public speaking is a sixth sense, at this point.

The encouragement isn't needed, but Robby finds himself exhaling a tense breath of air. He gives Langdon a shaky nod, and he feels a sudden bout of nerves take over him.

The spotlight raining on him doesn't shake his nerves, but Samira and Jack are staring at him with pretty intense looks.

Maybe none of them can escape the Pitt. In a brighter light, he’s back as the chief attending, and they’re both peering up at him, waiting dutifully for his next order.

That’s not where they are, so Robby coughs before bringing the microphone to his mouth.

He introduces himself to the crowd that he can't see with the bright lights. Threads an embarrassing story of Jack into a sweet moment with Samira. Draws the crowd in with intentional pauses and weaving words.

For the first time since he started talking, Robby looks over again to Samira and Jack. They’re smiling, tucked into each other and eyes crinkling.

Robby sighs.

“Samira, we’re going to miss you, but I’m just glad being loved by the day shift didn't stop you from finding your way into the night shift’s heart.”

The applause roars loud in his ears, but he tries his best to not drown. He mutes the microphone and heads towards Jack.

“Thanks, man,” Jack says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Wouldn't want anyone else as my best man.”

Robby nods into the thickness of Jack’s suit, letting himself be enveloped. When Jack steps back, Samira takes his spot. They gawk at each other for a few seconds before Robby holds an arm up.

Samira keeps her arms light as she wraps them around his torso. When Robby places a hand to the top of her spine, he feels her melt.

“Thank you…for saying all that,” Samira says over his shoulder. "I know your Jack's best man, but I...appreciated that."

Robby breathes out, and it's stupidly shaky. Her face is warm on his shoulder, and Robby remembers a distant memory of sitting in front of the fading fire as a child to hold its warmth just a little longer.

With a single squeeze to his waist that makes him wheeze, Samira steps back, arms still hovering around him. He pats once at her shoulder.

“I should have said it sooner. We really won’t be the same without you.”

He’s learning to be a bit more open. It’s a lesson he should have learned a while ago.

“You said it now. That’s what matters to me.”

True enough. It breaks open in him an odd desire to let himself live. Not hold himself back from what he wants and what he should be doing.

If Samira can chase after love, so can he.

“Go eat,” Robby says, nodding towards her family’s table. “We’re all starving over there, so I know you two must be as well.”

She grins, breaking away as Jack holds her hand and leads them towards their combined family table.

Robby slinks back to his designated table. He’s glad he’s not sandwiched between Jack’s high-strung sister and one of Samira’s relatives, but a glance at what’s been dubbed as one of the many ‘Pitt Tables’ is making that not seem like such a bad idea.

At least he’s been assigned with some of the older folks. Dana and her husband. Donnie and his wife. Collins and her plus one who she keeps swearing isn’t her boyfriend, but Robby thinks otherwise.

McKay’s somehow at the younger folk’s table, sat between Javadi and Princess, and Mel, on second glance, is at his table sitting next to Langdon. He’s sure Samira’s design is intentional—mostly because it always is.

Mel’s in the middle of reading the plaque situated at the center of the table when he pulls out his chair and takes a seat with his plate.

The two corners of the room serving buffet-style food helps keep the flow of the wedding. He sees that everyone at the table has already taken advantage of that fact and is already digging into their dinners.

It’s hard to ignore Langdon beside him. He’s a line of unforgettable heat, and the way his dark suit fits his body catches his eyes every time he blinks.

In the middle of a bite, Robby feels Langdon’s thigh press against his. For the first second, Robby believes it's an accident. Langdon is just adjusting himself.

A few seconds pass, and Langdon is still pressed deeper against Robby’s leg.

He looks up from his meal, expecting to find Langdon staring at him with that audacious look in his eyes, but he’s turned to Mel instead, engaged in a profound discussion about the reasons dragons tend to treasure-hoard in legends.

Robby doesn't really understand why this conversation is happening or why Langdon’s slotting himself so closely to Robby. He doesn't question his own instinct either to slide a hand down and squeeze Langdon’s knee.

“It’s like how real birds collect—uhm.”

From the corner of his eye, he watches Langdon’s mouth drop with a stutter, licking his lips like that’ll rewind time and not make him sound like a fool.

“Collect what?” Mel asks, intrigued and none the wiser.

Robby’s intrigued too, but not for the same reasons. He wonders if this intrinsic desire to wind Langdon up is payback or an old habit resurfacing.

Under the safety of the flowing tablecloth, he runs his palm higher up Langdon’s thigh. His hand isn’t large enough to wrap around his leg, but he can tell just by squeezing how much quiet strength is hiding under his pants.

“Uhh—you know. Birds. They collect…shiny things.”

Langdon ends the sentence with a high pitch sound like he’s asking a question instead of stating a fact. His brain’s all muddled and confused. Poor thing.

Robby squeezes higher up Langdon’s thigh, taking another casual bite of his food. He feels Langdon’s hand wrestle the tablecloth and slide under, wrapping tight around Robby’s hand.

Interestingly enough, he doesn't pry Robby’s hand away. He keeps Robby pinned to the top of his legs, just shy of where his hip and leg join.

A bright blush dusts the back of Langdon’s neck. Right below his shaved hair, a flower garden of pink comes alive. Robby has the dangerous thought to lean close and lick it up.

Blessedly, the hired DJ breaks his thoughts and announces it’s time to start the music. Robby isn’t a frequent wedding attendee, but he doesn't think he’s seen so many people flock to dance before with such urgency.

Santos included. He watches her nearly skip over and hover above Mel’s chair.

“Come on, Mel-ody. Let’s put some groove in your shoes.”

“Did you just quote Earth, Wind & Fire?” Langdon asks over his shoulder.

Santos levels Langdon with a flat look that suggests she thinks Langdon is both old and ridiculous for suggesting that.

“It’s a common enough saying,” she says.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” Mel interjects.

“No one is till they try. C’mon.”

Mel’s wide-eyed, frantic stare as Santos leads them onto the dancefloor amuses him. She seemed to have found her rhythm once Langdon returned from his counseling. Got some footing after Langdon instilled confidence into her.

Hah. Her rhythm. Robby chuckles to himself. Footing.

“What’s so funny?” Langdon asks, curling closer.

When he turns his head, Robby isn’t expecting to find Langdon so close. He’s leaning into Robby’s space, face near his like they’re trading a secret.

Robby squeezes Langdon’s thigh one more time, a reminder that he’s still on thin ice, and Langdon’s smile drops as he swallows.

“I’m getting a drink.”

Robby drops his hand like Langdon’s skin burns and makes a beeline past the dance floor and towards the bar.

It’s not a surprise to find that most of the patrons in line are with the Pitt. They rib at him when he orders a drink, but then cheer with him as they all take a long gulp.

He’s starting to hear rumors about an ongoing bet. Something about whoever gets Robby up and dancing on his feet winning some kind of reward.

Robby doesn't dance in the traditional sense of the word. Not without some power of liquid courage, that is. So, he takes another gulp of his beer and stands just outside of the dance floor, not waiting for a time to jump in but more so observing the liveliness of the crowd.

Samira and Jack know some fun people.

A woman grabs his hand. He’s not sure whose guest she is, but she’s pretty, and her dainty hand fits smoothly in his own.

Is she also tipsy and having the time of her life? Yes, that’s true as well, but she is lovely and easy on the eyes all the same.

Robby lets the woman use his hand to twirl herself in a circle. She sways to the music, dress flowing like an after thought and chasing her body movements.

“You’re Jack’s friend, right?” She says loud over the music.

Like that was not obvious before, but he shrugs, leaning closer to be heard.

“We work together.”

“A doctor—that’s fun!”

Less so than she thinks, but he doesn't ruin her buzz by saying so out loud. He lets her use his arm as a dancing partner, not really engaging with the movement but allowing her to have some fun.

He takes another sip of his beer, watching as her rapid frolicking blends in with the collage of swaying limbs behind her, the dim lighting blending them all into one moving picture of boundless joy.

“Oh!” The woman exclaims, looking over Robby’s shoulder. “I’ve been hoarding him this whole time!”

She fakes a curtsy bow and moves Robby’s hand into someone else’s palm. His nerves light up with a spark at just how warm this new person is.

He looks up to find the woman gone, and instead, Langdon’s gripping tight to his hand. Robby’s heart falters, rhythm skipping a beat.

Langdon slides his hand up his arm, fingers squeezing at his muscles. He curls them around the back of his neck, index finger feeling his buzzed hair. His other arm curls around Robby’s back, pulling him close.

“You lead?” Langdon suggests.

Robby swallows, because Langdon’s in his space, and it’s taking a lot of surprising energy to not yank him closer.

Slowly, like he’s afraid to scare Langdon off, he curls an arm around the middle of Langdon’s back with the most feather-light touch.

“Haven’t I always?” Robby finds himself saying without hesitation.

Langdon smiles, and nods, like this is some kind of medical procedure that he’s trusting Robby to teach.

They move closer to the inside of the dance floor, and Robby finds himself drawing Langdon closer and closer, chasing after the warmth of his body.

It’s a bit clunky, he learns, dancing with someone as tall as Langdon. Even in heels, all Robby’s previous dates only ever reached his chin.

Now, Langdon stands eye to eye with him. An intense buzz worms under his skin that makes Robby dizzy in the head. Awkward on his feet in a way that’s unnatural, and he steps on the side of Langdon’s foot more than once.

“Been a while?” Langdon asks in the small space between them. “Maybe I should lead, then.”

Like hell, Robby thinks.

Curling an arm around Langdon’s lower back, he swoops them in a circle before leaning them down. Langdon falls until he’s parallel to the floor, levitating against the flat of Robby’s wide hand.

Langdon’s hair falls out of its gelled perfection, wild strands framing his wide eyes. He gapes up at Robby, mouth dropped open, and he wonders when it started to become a normal thought to want to taste his lips.

“That feel like someone who needs to be led?”

Vigorously, Langdon shakes his head. The strain in his neck allows Robby to see the absolute obscenity that is Langdon swallowing.

Robby twirls them back out of the dip. The music picks up in pace, and the floor around them becomes crowded with tossing limbs. It's easy to ignore when Langdon's pressed close to him and right in front of him.

Langdon sweeps his arms around Robby’s shoulders, bringing their chests together. He tilts his head, a soft smile on his lips as he talks.

“What?” Robby says, nearly shouting over the blaring music.

The song reverberates in his chest, bass drumming crazily in his heart as Langdon presses his lips against Robby’s ear. The ghost of Langdon’s breath tickles his neck, setting fire to his skin.

“That was a nice speech you gave up there,” Langdon says.

“I'm just glad they're finally tying the knot. They deserve to be happy.”

“Don’t we all?” Robby suggests.

Langdon pulls back, an expression of shock over his face. He nods, demure, before leaning the side of his face against Robby’s like he’s soaking in all of Robby’s warmth.

It doesn't make sense, because everything warm and gooey and good about him is from Langdon, but he thinks among the heat and compassion of the crowd that he can learn all those things too.

Chisel some happiness of his own from this moment.

He presses his face against Langdon's cheek, drilling himself into Langdon's mind through sheer force, just as Langdon has permeated himself in Robby's mind.

The power of alcohol is strong, but there’s something much stronger ebbing in the crowd.

As he excuses himself for the night, Robby finds himself as one of the first to leave despite the fact it’s almost two o’clock in the morning.

“Have fun, old man,” Santos shouts over Garcia's shoulder with a wave.

He shakes his head lightly at her, because she’s a bit ridiculous even if the warmth in his chest is telling him otherwise.

As he heads toward the elevator, he passes by children falling asleep on couches lining the hallways and intoxicated partygoers trying to find the venue’s kitchen for a late night snack.

It feels like some sort of college memory he’s found himself walking through. Except, not even in college did Robby party this hard.

Belatedly, Robby wonders if Langdon was the sort. He seems like the type. Maybe he was in a fraternity, or lived on campus with a massive bar scene.

Robby shoots a hand out to the closing elevator door. He nods an apology to the person inside, but his mouth just sits uselessly wide open

Robby is…suddenly not that tired, anymore.

Langdon doesn't make room for Robby. Greedy asshole just stands in the middle, hands in his pockets.

He isn't even surprised to find Langdon in the elevator. That’s how it's always been. Wherever Robby goes, Langdon follows.

Except, that's not exactly right, because it's Robby following Langdon into the elevator, and Langdon doesn't look too shocked either.

The doors shut, locking them in a vacuum of buzzing tension. It’s nothing compared to the light fizz of alcohol surging in Robby. Just enough liquid courage surges in his bloodstream to turn his head towards Langdon.

“My room number is 245,” Langdon says to the doors.

“That’s nice.”

Langdon looks over to him with a light smile. Robby can’t tear his gaze away even when the elevator doors chime open.

“Have a good night, Robby. I had a good time dancing with you.”

Just as the elevators start to slide close, Langdon steps into the hallway, looking both ways before leaving Robby’s line of sight.

The doors slide shut, dropping Robby in a silence that feels too familiar. It’s hauntingly lonely like he’s just come back to his house after a long shift.

Robby presses the third floor button. His body trembles as the cart lifts him past Langdon’s floor.

As the doors open, he tries to feel like that isn't the last time he will see Langdon.

He gives up on pretending like that’s a concept that doesn't frighten him.

Robby makes it to his room’s door, key card in hand, when he turns back towards the elevators.

“Fucking Langdon,” Robby swears, jamming the second floor button.

When he knocks on Langdon’s door, Robby nearly punches Langdon in the face with how swift he is opening the door. He stands on the other side with a wide smile, shirt only halfway buttoned and tie tossed on the desk behind him.

“That didn't take as long as I thought it would,” Langdon says.

“Shut up.”

Langdon doesn't make him beg. He just shuts the door behind Robby and stares up at him like he has no clue what’s about to happen despite the fact he’s been seducing Robby all night long.

“Do you…want to go to sleep?”

“If I wanted to sleep, I would have gone to my own room.”

Langdon smiles. “Right.”

With a sigh, Robby grasps Langdon’s face with both of his hands. He pulls him closer, and their lips hover close, gasping each other’s air.

“You have no idea how fucking crazy you drive me,” Robby grumbles against his mouth.

“Show me,” Langdon says.

Robby yanks him close, devouring him whole. Immediately, Langdon’s hands latch onto him, prying his suit's jacket off and tossing his belt across the room.

He has to work quicker than Langdon, whose hands are flying underneath his shirt, grabbing greedily at his bare stomach.

“Arms up. Up, c’mon,” Robby ushers in between kisses.

So beautifully, Langdon obeys, holding his arms crossed in their air for Robby to peel his white t-shirt off.

He holds Langdon at a distance, letting himself a moment of reprieve to ogle. Langdon’s as toned as he thought, but not as bare.

A trail of hair leads from the waistband of his boxers peaking through to the top of his collarbones, collecting there in a bunch. There’s a red flush just underneath the batch of hair that Robby wants to touch.

Langdon tries to start unbuttoning his shirt, but Robby pushes his hand away. He holds a finger to Langdon’s chest. His imprint leaves a slate white circle.

God, Langdon must be burning up from the inside out. Needy thing.

“What? What’s up?” Langdon asked in a rushed, nervous tone.

“Just looking at you.”

“Oh. Jesus, Robby….”

“What’s the matter? You know you’re a good looking guy.”

Langdon shakes his head furiously. “That’s not…I’m not really used to being looked at like this.”

Robby has to raise an eyebrow at that, because surely, that is not true. He hadn’t anticipated Langdon to be so…bashful?

“I haven't always looked like this,” Langdon admits.

He’s so used to Langdon being the one full of confidence. So self-assured. It’s a new sight to see Langdon’s usually pulled back shoulders hunching, prickling under the weight of Robby’s attention.

“Well, I’ve got two working eyes. I’d be an idiot to not notice.”

Langdon grins, tucking his head down. “Yeah?”

“You’re handsome, Frank, and you look nice. Really fucking nice.”

The flush from Langdon’s chest has traveled up his neck towards his face, and he’s red as a goddamn tomato, now. It’s horrifically endearing, and Robby wants to know how to keep him like this.

Robby knocks a knuckle under Langdon’s chin, jutting his head up so they’re looking each other in the eye. Langdon can’t seem to tamper down the grin on his face.

“I wanna see all of you.”

Langdon swallows, and with the way Robby is forcing his head up, straining the thin skin of his neck, he can visibly see his Adam's apple bob just like a few hours ago.

Langdon’s fingers circle the zipper of his trousers, teasing the metal down. He walks backwards, stringing Robby along with just the sight of his boxers peaking through his pants.

With a palm flat to Langdon’s chest, he pushes Langdon against the bed. He watches Langdon crawl out of his pants, splaying his legs wide for Robby to stand between.

He raises a hand and this time, Robby lets him pluck the buttons of his shirt. One by one, Langdon 

His blood buzzes under Langdon’s keen attention, so Robby distracts himself by swooping down and snatching a kiss from Langdon’s slack mouth.

“Mmmph—”

Langdon’s fingers lose any sense of coordination, fumbling with the last few buttons before yanking Robby’s neck and pulling him onto the bed.

They’re a tangled mess of limbs as they clamber to the center of the bed. Robby pulls his button up off, tossing the shirt off the bed. Langdon takes advantage of his bare skin, massaging his hands over his body like he’s attempting to ravish him.

With one arm, Robby lifts Langdon’s hips up and pulls his boxers down. Once they’re off, Langdon curls his legs around Robby’s hips and pulls him impossibly closer.

There’s a slick, wet sound coming from between them, and he can’t tell if it's Langdon’s cock rutting hot against his stomach or their glistening lips sliding over each other.

As enjoyable as it is to kiss Langdon—to lap at his lips and tease him with a hint of tongue and let Langdon chase his mouth when he pulls back to be an even bigger tease—Robby has plans to completely ruin Langdon.

When he pulls back, Langdon tries chasing after him again, so Robby plants a hand against his chest and stills him against the mattress.

“Stay there,” Robby orders.

Langdon smiles. “I wasn't planning on going anywhere.”

Robby huffs as he leans over to the single bedside drawer. The larger, bottom shelf has a box of thin tissues, an old home renovation magazine, and a pack of batteries. The top shelf is lacking too, empty besides an even smaller packet of tissues and a travel size container of shampoo.

“What kind of inn doesn’t have any goddamn lube?” Robby grumbles to himself.

“It’s probably all in the Honeymoon Suite.”

“Please do not mention Jack or Samira while we’re naked together.”

Langdon’s laugh is breathy. Robby lets himself be pulled back, Langdon’s hand pawing at his arm a desperate thing. He leans back over Langdon and presses a sweet kiss to his lips.

“We can just make out until one of us gets tired,” Langdon suggests, voice wispy and gentle.

Robby narrows his eyes. “What happened to the Frank that tried to blow me in a public bathroom?”

Langdon’s mouth jams shut as he swallows. He has the decency to at least look admonished, and Robby’s surprised at the buzz brimming in his chest at the sight.

“I have bigger plans for you.”

He plants two hands on Langdon's hips. Robby hadn't considered how lithe he was before. The suit must have given him an extra layer of bulk, but he's still wide with toned muscle in a way that makes Robby think Langdon could flip them around.

“Turn over,” Robby says, swallowing.

Doubt is written all over Langdon’s face, but his curiosity must win over. He flips over, planting his chin on crossed arms.

“Am I getting a massage or something?”

“Not the kind you're probably thinking. Hips up.”

Langdon gathers his knees under him. His hips sway in the air, and he’s right there.

Fucking hell.

He looks too good like this. Vulnerable and needy and without a shame in the world.

Robby runs a hand up Langdon’s spine. Then, he grasps hold onto his waist, using his thumbs to pry open his cheeks.

“Robby?” Langdon asks over his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Just like that. So easy in a way that makes Robby want to drop to his knees and give Langdon the world.

“You clean?”

“Yeah. You too, right?”

“Yeah.”

Robby moves to lean forward, but Langdon holds up a palm. He raises an eyebrow, leaning over to see Langdon’s nervous face.

“I—uhh. And I….”

“What is it?”

“I looked up how to…you know. They’ve got videos on how to clean and open yourself….”

Robby’s brain, all the thoughts he’s had about what he’s going to do to Langdon, slams to a halt.

“You watched porn and imagined it was me?”

Langdon’s neck flares with a blush. “Not that—it was more so…educational purposes.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“I really want you to fuck me, Robby.”

Robby smiles. He leans down and presses a kiss to one of Langdon’s cheeks.

“Wish I could get my fingers in you,” Robby mutters. “Fuck, you’d look so good.”

“Robby,” Langdon mewls.

“I hear you, baby. You sound fucking amazing.”

“Robby.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I—I have lube.”

Robby’s hand pauses as he looks over Langdon’s shoulder. He was fully prepared to eat Langdon out. Get his mouth on his hole and drive Langdon mad with pleasure.

“And didn't you say something sooner, because…?”

“You got all touchy, and my brain took a second to catch up.”

“It’s been more than a second.”

Langdon huffs over his shoulder. “Lube’s in my bag if you want to…I don’t know.”

Robby slides off the bed and starts searching in Langdon’s bag. It’s startlingly intimate to push aside his folded boxers and hair products to reach for the bottle.

“You brought lube without any real plan on how to use it?”

Langdon slides onto his stomach, ogling Robby from the bed. He looks relaxed, legs kicking in the air and head pillowed on his arms.

“I got lucky you even agreed to this.”

Robby sits next to Langdon, leaning a hand on the other side of his body. He smiles down at him.

“You didn't convince me to do anything. I want to be here. Understood?”

Langdon nods, but there’s a strange wobble to his mouth. Robby leans forward to kiss it off his lips, and he feels Langdon preen up, back arching to crowd into Robby’s space.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Robby murmurs.

“How long?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Wow. That long?”

“It’s not illegal to have sex with your coworker,” Robby argues.

Langdon smiles. “I’m not your coworker.”

“Not anymore.”

It must be why holding a hand on Langdon’s lower waist feels so…natural. Like this has been a long time coming.

Robby keeps Langdon on his knees. He looks too good like this, hips up in the air and toned back on display. He runs a hand up his spine as he warms the lube on his fingers.

“You ever touch yourself?”

Langdon huffs. “Of course.”

“Back here?”

Robby hovers a slick finger over Langdon’s hole. He watches as a dollop of lube drips down his leg.

“Oh—uhh. I tried, but it didn’t feel great. I guess I was doing it wrong.”

God, the image of Langdon sitting on his bed, or at his home computer, leaning back and fumbling with his hole with slick fingers, thinking about Robby doing that to him….

It’s a visual that heats Robby up from the inside out.

“Dont worry, baby. I’ll make this feel good.”

“Thank god,” Langdon murmurs into the pillow.

Robby won’t chastise him for his impatience, because this is clearly something he’s been waiting on for a long while now.

Slowly, Robby pushes a finger in. He moves around, wetting him as much as possible.

“Feels weird,” Langdon huffs.

“Yeah, it’s going to. Give me a second.”

Langdon looks up at him, from around his shoulder, smiling kind of dopey and loose like Langdon would give him all the time in the world if Robby needed it.

Robby swallows and pushes deeper inside. He’s met with a lot more resistance than he expected. It’s been a while since he’s been with someone so…inexperienced.

He tries to ignore how that single word buzzes around in his head like an annoying fly. Constant visions of Langdon jerking himself off just to chase some amount of pleasure as he tries to hit his own spot.

“You’re tight,” Robby comments. “Poor thing. You didn’t get very far, did you?”

Langdon shakes his head on the pillow, a rough side-to-side motion. His face lights up with a blush like he’s thinking about his own misguided attempts.

“Well, I got you, now. I got you, baby,” Robby murmurs in a sweet voice.

Robby’s miraculously able to push all the way to his knuckle without any trouble. On the way back out, he curls his finger. Langdon’s body twitches under him like he’s been electrocuted.

“Fucking—!”

“How does that feel?”

Langdon scrambles a hand over his face, but Robby won’t let him hide. As he pushes his finger in again, he holds Langdon’s hand above his head.

“I asked a question.”

“Good,” Langdon stammers. “Really fucking good.”

Robby smiles and curls his finger against that same spot. Langdon clenches around him as he whines against the pillow. He watches Langdon’s free hand sneak underneath his body.

“Ah–ah,” Robby tuts like he’s reprimanding a dog. “Hands off.”

He can't help it though. Langdon complies so beautifully, dropping his cock, wet and begging for attention based on the slick covering Langdon’s hand, and grabs onto the pillowcase.

Robby rewards him by curling his finger in again, shooting for that same rough spot. It takes a second, but then, Langdon’s body trembles.

“You ready for another one?”

At Langdon’s insistent nod, Robby works a second slick finger in. There’s more resistance this time and takes more time for Langdon to adjust, but in no time, Robby’s curling his fingers at a rather brutal pace.

Langdon doesn't seem to mind at all, mouth dropped open and nearly drooling on the pillow as little pleas and whines trickle out and hips fucking the air, back onto Robby’s fingers, to get Robby to go faster and harder.

Robby feels arousal course through his own body, but it's a distant thing, like a sunburn. Hot and pulsating but ignorable.

“It feel like this when you tried?” Robby asks.

Langdon guffaws into the pillow. “Hell no. Barely got to—shit. Uhhm….”

Robby smiles, maybe a bit cruel, but it’s a heady feeling to tease Langdon in the midst of his pleasure.

“Focus Frank.”

“Right. I—fuck. Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Don’t know. Does that sound like something I’d do?”

Just as Langdon opens his mouth to respond, Robby really juts his wrist, fucking his fingers over that spot relentlessly. Langdon’s whole body shakes against the sheets like he’s been tossed into a typhoon and is fighting the currents of pleasure.

“Ahn—anyone ever tell you that you're a sadist?”

“No one’s complained so far,” Robby says, feeling his cheeks hurt with a grin. “Are you gonna tell me what happened next?”

Langdon laughs, and it’s a pitiful, high-pitched sound. “Wouldn't you rather I—I show you?”

Robby’s brain slams to a stop. His imagination works just fine, but actually watching Langdon fuck himself, shaky fingers pumping in and out as he fumbles for the right pace that’ll get him going, pleading blue eyes shining at Robby as he bites his lip and hold back a moan—

Robby leans over Langdon’s back, pressing a kiss to his spine. His skin is practically on fire, and Robby’s lips must be chill to the touch, because Langdon shivers against him.

“Fuck,” Langdon pants.

His shoulders slide against Robby, chest heaving in a desperate attempt to catch air. Robby runs a hand through the curls there, holding Langdon close.

Robby presses a line of kisses up Langdon’s neck. He shivers against Robby when he reaches behind Langdon’s ear.

“Sensitive spot?”

Langdon nods, a whine hiding between his pressed lips. Robby pushes a third slick finger in. Robby’s made enough progress to have room, but it's still a tight fit.

Once again, Langdon doesn't complain. His words aren't forming coherent enough sentences to verbalize that, but his heady whines and the way he fucks back against Robby’s fingers suggests this is the perfect place for him to be.

“You gonna come from this?” Robby asks.

“Uhuh.”

“Yeah, you will. That’s a good boy.”

“Fucking—god.”

Robby bites little marks on the back of Langdon’s ear. His stupidly perfectly shaved hair leaves plenty of room to litter kisses that send heat pounding throughout his body.

He speeds his fingers up, really punishing that spot in Langdon that sends his fingers crawling up the sheets, clambering onto anything around.

“Shit—Robby, I’m really gonna come if—if you keep this up.”

His thrashing body rubs against Robby's clothed cock, and he bites back a moan. If Langdon keeps rutting back against him like this, he's not gonna be the only one coming.

“That’s okay. You can come.”

“Ye—yeah, fuck. Fuck, yeah, okay, God, you feel—”

“You always this talkative?”

Langdon nods, shoving his head into the pillow, Robby curls his free hand around his hair and yanks him back.

“I didn't say to stop.”

Robby keeps a firm hand in Langdon’s hair, keeping Langdon pinned to the pillows as his shiny eyes gawk at Robby. He nods against Robby’s hold, but he doesn't say anything else.

Instead, Langdon lunges sideways, kissing Robby’s lips. He feels his plump mouth against him, giving Robby uncoordinated, messy kisses. Feels his moan hot breaths into his mouth as he clenches around Robby’s fingers.

Robby slips his tongue into Langdon’s mouth. It’s a hot, wet mess, and he feels saliva drip from one or both of their mouths. It’s probably gross, but Robby’s mind doesn't care, only stuck on the single desire to be as close as possible.

Langdon slings an arm around Robby’s neck, dragging him closer. It seems that desire is shared between them both, and Robby tries to ignore the heat flushing down the back of his neck.

“Robby,” Langdon pants against his lips. “I’m gonna—can I?”

“Yeah, go ahead, baby.”

Langdon nods against him, and he fucks himself harder against Robby’s fingers. He ruts forward, and Robby realizes he’s smearing the bed with his precome like a desperate little thing.

Shit.

He may come just from the sight alone.

Langdon beats him to it, whining high and loud against his mouth as his body stills in the air. His fingers clenching at Robby’s shoulder dig deep, and Robby can already tell he’ll have vibrant bruises come morning.

The room fills with the slick sound of Langdon coming alongside Robby’s fingers pulsating inside him. He doesn't let up even after Langdon’s come.

Robby is testing a theory. How long can Langdon go until it's too much? Will he let Robby punish his body—his mind and wreck him with overstimulating pleasure?

Langdon’s whines melt into achy grunts, and his fingers shake as he jams a hand around and grabs onto Robby’s wrists.

His body is contorted in such a pleasurable twist that Robby almost wants to hold him like this forever, strung between pleasure and pain.

“Jesus, you’re gonna fucking kill me, Robby.”

Robby smiles at the frustration in Langdon’s voice. A blush sits high on his cheekbones, and it’s unfair how good he looks. Langdon surely can't blame him when he looks like this.

“Next time,” Robby says, sly and half-joking.

Langdon nods his head in a way that's so entirely sincere and affectionate that Robby has to fucking kiss him. His boy is…incredible, and he can't believe just how much Langdon actually wants this too.

As he presses a soft kiss to Langdon’s mouth, he pulls his fingers out slowly. Langdon groans against him, body growing slack and falling onto the bed.

“I know, I know,” Robby soothes.

He runs a hand up and down Langdon’s back. His body grows weak against the mattress, shoulders heaving in an attempt to catch some air, and sweat and lube glistening his skin. It's a sight that makes Robby a bit breathless too.

“I’ll be right back,” Robby says.

With a grunt, Robby plants two feet on the ground and feels an immediate ache latch onto his muscles. He stands, walking with cautionary steps towards the bathroom.

Robby finds a spare towel under the sink. He runs the cloth under the water. His eyes haze over the flow of the water, the long day catching up to him.

A pair of arms wrap low around his waist. His eyes jump to the mirror to watch Langdon press his chin into Robby’s shoulder, forming a strong line of heat along his back.

The water must have masked Langdon’s footsteps. Either that, or he just slept with a silent assassin.

“Jesus,” Robby grumbles.

Langdon mouths at his neck like the needy thing he is. Robby huffs at his attempt for attention, but he can’t find it in him to pry Langdon off.

He’s good at chasing away the chill of the air conditioning, and Robby feels gooey under Langdon’s ministrations, firm hands massaging his torso.

“I was coming back,” Robby whispers, voice far too fond.

“For your turn?”

“What?”

Langdon pulls away, maneuvering Robby flush against the wall. He runs his fingers down Robby’s chest, playing at the waistband of his boxers.

The memory from just a few hours ago plays loud in his mind, a screech of a car wreck that Robby can’t pry his eyes from.

“It’s not a public bathroom, but this is close enough, right?”

“Frank,” Robby mutters, tone a bit more reverent than he had intended.

Langdon spends some time sucking kisses into his chest, laying his claim. Robby should admonish him, but he curls a hand around Langdon’s neck, rocking against the thin slice of air between them.

When Langdon sinks to his knees, shit, it’s a sight that squeezes Robby’s heart. Those blue eyes staring up at him, waiting for permission to get his mouthy lips on Robby’s cock.

“Fucking hell,” Robby hears himself say.

“Please, Robby? Teach me like you always do.”

Langdon runs a hand over the bulge of his boxers with such an intense hunger in his eyes. Robby’s still hard from watching Langdon writhe against the sheets, and Langdon’s staring up at him like he’s ready to change that.

He can’t believe this assertive, seductive temptation of a man is the same guy who was pleading for Robby’s permission to come just five minutes ago.

“I never taught you to do this.”

“I wish you did. Fuck, I would’ve let you push me to the ground in front of everyone. Show them who your best resident is.”

A blush rises to Robby’s face—he knows, because he can see it in his reflection. The mirror casts back the look of a frazzled, buzzing man teeming with pleasure.

“You’ve got a dirty fucking mouth, Frank.”

“If only there was a way to shut me up….”

Langdon’s tongue dips out of his mouth, lapping at the fabric of his boxers. He dampens his clothed cock like it's the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Shaky, Robby runs a hand through Langdon’s hair. The softness of the strands surprises him, so he does it again and again until he’s pushing Langdon’s hot mouth against his crotch, humping his face.

It’s dirty, and intoxicating, and Langdon loves it. He laps at Robby’s bulge like he’s been salivating—waiting all day for it, and Jesus, maybe he has.

Langdon isn’t here to play games. He’s here to get his throat fucked.

“Fuck, come on,” Robby mutters. "Take me out."

So efficient—like always, because he’s so fucking good—Langdon slides his boxers down to his knees and wraps a hand around Robby's cock.

He pumps a few times, hand uncoordinated as he tests different techniques. Patient in a way that borders almost on teasing, and Robby hisses.

“It may take me a second,” Langdon explains. “You’ll tell me what feels good, right?”

“Oh, you’ll know.”

Langdon’s lips slide around the tip of Robby’s cock. Immediately, his tongue licks around his tip, tasting, and his eyes fall shut like he’s dazed.

“You taste good,” Langdon says.

“Stop talking, Frank.”

“Really good.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Langdon’s mouth is carefully light around his cock. His tongue takes its time wrapping around him, tasting his skin. Robby huffs, because Langdon’s clearly testing the waters, and it's terribly endearing.

Aiming for encouragement or maybe a demonstration on what to do, Robby pulls Langdon back by the hair. Nothing painful. Just a quick tug that has Langdon’s eyes shooting up before he drops them close.

He watches as Langdon bobs his head. It’s a slow drag of his mouth up and down his length. Langdon has no trouble taking him, mouth ply and easy for him to glide in and out of.

“That’s good,” Robby mutters. “Doing really good, Frank.”

Langdon hums, and shit, the vibration thrums against his cock like he’s clenching around him.

“One day, I’m gonna fuck you. Just like this.”

Humming again, Langdon nods, head bobbing in agreement as he slides on his cock.

His hand wrapped around Robby’s cock finally moves, almost as if Langdon finally remembered it was there after all this time. 

Whatever he can't reach with his wet mouth, Langdon covers with his warm fingers, gently encasing Robby in a damp heat that sends him up the wall.

Literally, too. Robby’s free hand claws at the wall. His reflection in the mirror is skittish, like a man drowning in pleasure and unable to swim out of it.

“You can be rough,” Robby suggests, scratching at Langdon’s scalp.

Langdon pulls off, and a trail of saliva follows him. Robby stares at the sheen of saliva and precome glistening Langdon’s lips.

“You too, then.”

Robby blinks at him, because that’s a dangerous thing to say, but Langdon curls a hand around Robby’s wrist in his hair and tugs his own head back.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?”

Those blue eyes stare up at him as they blink. He pats Robby’s hand before wrapping his fingers around Robby’s thigh, bracing himself.

“Alright, pretty baby. I’ve got you. I’ll give you what you want.”

Robby pushes into Langdon’s mouth, setting a steady but quick tempo. The glide of his cock against his wet tongue sends sparks up his spine. He chases that pleasure, using Langdon’s easy mouth.

“Fuck, that’s good, Frank. Keep going, baby.”

His fingers yank Langdon closer, dragging his head back and forth. Langdon stares up at him, eyelids heavy and gaze absolutely, blissfully fucked.

Jesus, he hadn't expected Langdon to be so into this. He fucks Langdon’s mouth just as he wants, touching the back of his throat with surprising ease.

“It’s like you were made for this, sweetheart.”

Langdon hums around him, wrecking Robby’s body in a wave of hot pleasure. With a laugh, Robby’s mouth voices his thoughts.

“You practice this too? You look up videos on how to take my cock so well?”

Robby has the sense Langdon’s trying to nod, but Robby’s hand tight in his hair keeps him still. His hips jam into Langdon’s mouth again and again, and he throws his head back against the wall.

“Shit, Frank, gonna come,” Robby stammers.

When Robby tries to push him back, Langdon curls his fingers around Robby’s thigh tighter, almost like a punishment.

He’s too blissfully fucked to care, and Robby’s body shakes as he hunches over Langdon’s head. He pushes, pushes, pushes until he’s coming down Langdon’s throat.

His quivering breaths echo in the bathroom. Once he pulls out, Langdon’s pants join, loud and woozy as he swallows.

Immediately, Robby drops to a crouch. He runs a thumb along the bottom of Langdon’s mouth. His lips ply open too easily, and Robby’s not sure what he’s looking for, but it feels productive being close to Langdon.

“Are you alright?” Robby asks.

Langdon nods, and his head leans into the single touch of his thumb. He takes pity on both of them and curls a hand around Langdon’s cheek, dragging them closer.

It’s instinct to kiss Langdon now. It’s the answer to every insecurity and lingering question Robby’s ever had about them.

When Robby pulls back, Langdon stares back at him with a stunned look. Robby’s eyebrows furrow as he frowns. Langdon’s strangled breaths kiss his lips like he can’t move to do it himself.

“Say something, man," Robby mutters, worried.

A few seconds of Langdon’s slowing breaths fill the time. He swallows, leaning entirely on Robby’s palm for support.

There's a foggy look in his eyes like he's not really in control of what's happening right now and is trusting Robby's hand to keep him together. 

“Love you," Langdon whispers after another gulp of air.

Robby’s heart pulls, thrumming faster than the pounding of a thousand horses racing.

That wasn't what he meant at all, and he really hopes Langdon didn't mean it, because that is not something that is supposed to be said to Robby with such sincerity.

Langdon curls into his palm, pressing a kiss there. He repeats those words into his skin and shatters the illusion of an accident.

Inappropriately, maybe, a flash of Jack and Samira rings in his mind. How they’re probably repeating those same words to each other.

It makes sense for them. Not for Robby.

It’s so believable when it's other people, that it’s a genuine shock that Robby’s still considered a people. That he’s a human who can also experience love and be loved.

Langdon’s eyes flash open like he’s just snapped back into their shared reality, remembering where he is like waking from a coma. His eyes jump around Robby’s face as he starts to retreat.

“Sorry,” Langdon stammers. "Forget I just...."

Robby swallows. His voice comes out soft and wispy when he speaks.

“Don't be sorry. Come here.”

He wraps his arms around Langdon’s shoulders, pulling him close. Langdon shrinks closer, resting his head against Robby’s chest.

Robby thinks about how they danced the beginning of the night away. At that time, Langdon was too tall to rest against his chest like this.

They were eye-to-eye then, but now, Langdon’s curled against the softest parts of Robby. He hopes Langdon can hear those three words jumbled in his ribcage like his heart is attempting to burst from its containment.

There’s a trust that Langdon bestows onto him in this moment that brings a dewiness to Robby’s eyes. He squeezes Langdon tight with a promise to never let go. He won’t betray that trust again.

Not now that Robby finally has him.

Robby spends the late hours of the night thinking about what a stupid mess he’s gotten himself into.

The only clothes of his in the room are his suit from the wedding. Wrinkles probably crease every inch of the fabric, and he’s going to look like a total buffoon walking out of here in the morning.

The fact ‘here’ is actually Langdon’s bed, and not some random wedding-goer’s room he won’t see again, consoles him just a bit.

It doesn't soothe enough to put him to sleep, because he’s always been a light sleeper, and there’s no way he was going to fall asleep peacefully in a strange, new environment.

Even more so now that he’s sharing the bed with another person. Sleeping next to someone has always taken time for Robby to adjust, but that doesn't seem to be the case for Langdon.

Half of Langdon’s body slumps into the mattress, the other half stacked on top of Robby's chest. Langdon’s hand fell asleep playing with the curve of Robby’s ear, thumb now resting heavy against his neck.

If anything, it’s like a warm body is what Langdon needs to fall asleep, but Robby isn't sure how that's possible when Langdon is the warmest thing in the solar system.

Robby spends the early hours of the morning—morning, finally, because the black of the room has shifted to a navy gray—counting the bones in Langdon’s body.

His hand runs up his ribcage, twelve on each side. Feels for the knots in his spine, each vertebra becoming a familiar curve to Robby.

At some point, because he can't help himself and there’s no reason not to, Robby leans forward and presses a kiss to Langdon’s forehead.

“Mmm?”

Robby scoffs. So, he’s easy to wake, as well. He files that fact into his growing cabinet of Langdon information.

“Go back to sleep,” Robby whispers into the mess of hair in his face.

“‘at time’s it?”

“Early.”

“You leavin’?”

“I’ll still be here. Just—go to bed.”

“‘kay.”

That must be what he needed. Reassurance settles heavy on Langdon’s shoulders, dragging him back under his sleepiness.

That was fucking quick, and Robby’s a bit jealous, but he gets the spend the rest of Langdon’s power nap tracing his body with his eyes and fingers, so who’s really the lucky one?

At some point, Robby must fall into his own sleep, because he wakes to the sight of Langdon, bare and beautiful, covering his chest with a shirt.

Robby rubs a hand down his face before grunting, “where you goin’?”

Langdon stalls, one leg in his pants and the other bare. Then, he smiles and buckles himself in. He leans against the bed and kisses Robby’s forehead.

Robby tries his best to ignore the relief that washes over him.

“Going to see the breakfast bar. It’s probably crazy gourmet food. You coming with?”

Robby flaps a hand in the air. His body feels flimsy, head stuck between his dream and reality.

“Have fun.”

“I’ll be back.”

He tries to ignore the assurance that spreads through his body with those words too. Instead, Robby flips onto his stomach, seizing control of the entire bed now that Langdon isn’t hoarding every available inch of space.

Langdon’s soft laugh in the doorway drifts over him, easing him back into a lull. By the time he wakes from his nap, an hour has passed, and his stomach has followed Langdon to the dining room.

Robby’s nose crinkles at the sight of his ruined tuxedo. He dresses quickly and slips into the elevator when the coast is clear.

Right as the doors begin to shut, a hand shoots out.

Just his fucking luck.

Jack stands on the other side, grinning.

“Well, aren’t you glowing,” Jack comments with a low whistle.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but I guess that would be moot.”

Robby sighs, stepping aside as Jack squeezes in. They stand in the closed elevator for a few seconds, no destination in mind.

“Aren't you supposed to be with the bride?”

“Samira’s spending some time with her family. Besides, gotta check in with my best man.”

Jack knocks a fist into Robby’s arm, cheeky. The quiet air becomes almost suffocating, brimming with Jack’s curiosity.

“So—”

“Do not ask.”

Jack nods, almost too serious.

“I won’t. Just…heard that whoever got a dance out of you was gonna win some kind of prize.”

Robby rolls his eyes, but all he can hear is the blood thrumming in his body.

“If it counts for anything, I don't think that's why he did it.”

He looks over, mouth tensing to tell Jack to stop right there, but he keeps himself silent. Lets Jack explain the real reason Langdon danced with him.

“I think he really likes you, Robby.”

“Figured that out on my own, thank you.”

Jack is silent, analyzing whatever look Robby  has on his face.

“Gonna give this one a chance?”

As if he wasn't open and himself in those past relationships. As if those attempts were preparation for the finale heartstopper.

As if he has any chance of stopping Langdon from infiltrating his wants and thoughts.

“Maybe.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Jack’s approving smile, the one he tries and fails to subdue.

“Good." Jack presses the third floor button, and the elevator finally begins to move.

In the silence, Jack leans closer, shoulders brushing, and his voice drops to a gruff whisper. "By the way, it was Samira's idea to sit Frank next to you."

Robby turns slowly to Jack, wondering which emotion he's supposed to show. Annoyed that he was set up with his former subordinate by his close friend behind his back? Grateful that Samira hit the nail on the head? Amazed at their foresight?

He chooses to simmer in the silence instead and not compliment Samira (and Jack by association) on the remarkable insight. Robby lets them both into his room, and Jack waits at the desk in the room as Robby changes into the second pair of clothing he brought.

Fortunately, blessed be whatever miracle granted this wish, Jack does not comment on the bruises littering his body. He chooses to fill the silence with gossip from last night. Something about Whitaker getting three drinks spilled on him and a pretty sizable majority of Jack’s invites catching feelings for either McKay or Collins.

Once he's decent, they head to the dining hall together, and Robby’s surprised by the amount of Pitt members still on the premises.

Langdon’s still here too, and when they make eye contact across the room, Robby nods at him. His neutral expression wavers, and he grins into his drink.

Some of the Pitt people he doesn't see must have left last night, either for early morning shifts or other responsibilities. As he grabs his own breakfast, he watches Santos quarreling for the last biscuit with Langdon before someone has the bright idea to just split the damn thing in half.

They both look rather disgusted with that idea, and they pick different side items, instead.

Robby lets the noise of the dining hall wash over him. It’s not as stuffy as he imagined despite the fact he’s rather crammed between Javadi and Santos and their nonsensical argument over how many eggs must have been used to make three gigantic trays of scrambled eggs.

When Robby finishes his breakfast, he cleans up after himself and lets Jack walk him out. Samira catches his eye before he leaves, and she joins them as well.

The step outside is not unlike leaving a movie theater in the middle of the day. The cloudless sky leaves the sun to terrorize his vision, a flash of white blinding him. He winces, and he hears Jack laugh beside him.

“Thanks for coming, man,” Jack says, bringing Robby into a tight pull.

Robby doesn't feel the need to mention that he is in fact Jack’s man, and it’d be a little fucked if he didn't. He turns to Samira, looking between the two of them.

“Congrats you two. I really am happy for you both. Samira, don't be a stranger.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she says with a shrug towards Jack.

He can picture it now. Jack and him meeting at their usual haunt, except Samira will join them, sliding into Jack’s side of the booth and ordering…well, he doesn't quite know what or if she drinks yet, does he?

Maybe in the near future, Langdon will be at his side too, sliding into his side and ordering a nonalcoholic drink on Robby's card.

His face blanches at the idea. Even if it’s just Jack and Samira, and it would be more akin to coworkers hanging out than anything romantic…his mind can't get past the concept of going on a double date.

He'd rather just have a night with Langdon. Alone, gawking at each other from opposite sides of the booth and playing footsies under the table, because Langdon's an immature idiot who would definitely do that.

Jack doesn't comment on the strange look on his face, but he smiles when Robby and Samira hug again.

“Go enjoy, you two,” Robby says, waving them towards the front door.

They wave back to him, and Robby heads towards his motorcycle. He stuffs his belongings into the trunk attached to the side of his motorcycle.

People congregate around their cars, quiet conversation lingering in the peaceful air. He almost misses a figure walking in the tranquility.

Before he can stop himself, Robby clears his throat.

“Langdon!”

Langdon’s shoulders jump, and he whirls around, looking in every direction before landing on Robby.

He feels his face heat up at shouting so loudly in public, but Langdon tends to make him do stupid things sometimes.

Langdon stands at the head of his motorcycle. They stare at each other, letting the birds chirping in the trees fill in the odd silence.

“Hey,” Langdon mutters. “Are you heading out?”

Robby gestures a hand to the motorcycle he’s currently sitting on. Langdon presses his lips together.

“Right. Stupid question.”

His mind plays several different trains of thought. Various things he could tell Langdon that he's been keeping bottled for a very long time.

You’re my favorite person.

No one knows me as deeply as you do.

I love you too.

I’m sorry it took me so long.

I want to be the person you trust the most again.

Robby clears his throat one more time, and it's loud in the still air. He runs a hand down his neck, scratching at his growing beard.

“You free next week?”

“Uhm—I have Penny and Tanner starting Saturday, but my Friday is open.”

Robby nods. God, they must be so tall now compared to when he last saw them. That must be at least two—three years ago at this point.

“We’ll set something up,” Robby says. "Go somewhere nice."

Langdon’s eyes almost pop out of his head with how wide they are. “Yeah?”

“Don't—no need to sound so excited.”

Langdon grins, tucking his chin into his chest. It’s a good look on him. Nearly glowing in the early, cloudless morning light, sun beaming high in the sky like a distant halo.

“Trying,” Langdon says.

Robby can visibly see Langdon make an attempt to push down the enthusiasm, but his eyes are still shining bright and his lips quiver in a half-smile. He scoffs, shaking his head as he turns the motorcycle key in the ignition.

Lurching forward, Langdon presses a fast kiss to his lips. In a blink, his helmet zips into Langdon’s hands. He jams the helmet onto Robby’s head, flicking the visor up.

“Drive safe,” Langdon shouts over the roar of the engine. “Can’t have you getting hurt before our first date.”

Robby thanks everything that the helmet is on his head when Langdon says that. The thin space in the helmet grows thick with heat. His face burns bright and hot with a blush, but he nods.

God.

Going on a 'first date' at his age.

Langdon waves at him as he steps away towards his own car, leaving Robby to stupidly stare at him from his thrumming motorcycle.

He stares and stares until Langdon climbs into his beat-up car and drives off.

It’s stupid, but yeah, Langdon makes him do stupid things sometimes. Robby is learning that he’s really okay with that.