Chapter Text
Robby hears his staff mention a new café on the way to PTMC, so he deviates from his usual route, hands shoved in his pockets as he walks through the quiet streets.
Inside, the café is still waking up. The smell of espresso hangs warm against the chill outside. A few cups clink behind the counter.
“Good morning, how can I help you today?” the barista asks, bright but gentle.
“Hey, could I get a double shot long back, one sugar?” Robby leans slightly toward the menu, eyes flicking over the baked goods. “And…” His gaze lingers in the display case. “What would you recommend?”
The barista smiles, like she’s been waiting for that question.
“Are you a sweet tooth?”
“I don’t usually do dessert for breakfast… but I won’t say no.”
“I think you’d like our almond croissant. It’s four dollars.”
“Sold.” He nods once, almost amused by how easy that was. “I’ll take it to go, thanks.”
“No problem! I just need a name for the coffee order.”
“Robby.”
“Nice to meet you, Robby.” She scribbles it down. “It won’t be too long. Take a seat.”
He steps aside. The warmth hits him a second later, like he forgot it was even there.
A few minutes pass in the soft rhythm of steaming milk and grinding beans.
“Long black, double shot with one sugar for Robby?”
“That was quick.” He accepts the cup, fingers brushing the lid before taking a cautious sip. “It’s perfect, thank you.”
“I’m glad. Have a good day!”
“Good morning, how can I help you?” The barista looks up from the register, instantly, her expression brightens. “Oh! You're… Robby, right? From yesterday?”
“Right on.” He gives a small nod as he steps closer to the counter. “Nice to see you again.” His eyes flick briefly to the menu board out of habit. “I’ll get a double shot long black with one sugar.”
She starts tapping it in. “Anything for breakfast?”
“I really liked that croissant, but…” He hesitates just a beat, glancing into the display case like he’s negotiating with himself. “Alright, one almond croissant and one breakfast burger to-go, please.”
She pauses mid-input, eyebrows lifting.
“Hungry?”
“Hah, no.” He leans slightly on the counter, more relaxed now. “I work at the Trauma Med Center. Night shift friend, so I figured I’d—yeah.”
“Smart.” She smiles. “Wait, does that mean you’re a doctor?”
“I am Chief Attending of the Emergency Department, yes.”
Her eyes widen a fraction, then she laughs softly. “You should’ve told me last time! We have a discount for healthcare workers. Since we’re so close to PTMC, we wanted to contribute to all the hard-working doctors and nurses.”
“I had no idea.” He shakes his head slightly, a faint smile forming. “But I don’t mind, really. Thank you, though.”
“I’ll remember for next time.” She finishes with a quick nod, already turning toward the machine as the café hums quietly around them.
“Good morning! Hi Robby, how are you?” The barista asks as he steps up to the counter.
He pauses a fraction too long, shoulders slightly slouched.
“Tired.” He exhales through his nose. “Need a coffee.”
“Of course.” She reaches for a cup automatically. “Um, double shot long black? One sugar?”
“Yep.”
She glances up at him while she works the machine. “You doing okay? You’re not as chipper as usual.”
He huffs once, like he didn’t mean to laugh but did anyway.
“I’m usually chipper?” He leans his elbows lightly on the counter now. “Ah, yesterday was a lot. Kind of dreading going in today.”
“Right… ED must be overwhelming.” She slows for a moment, like she’s choosing her words. “Hey, have you eaten?”
Robby hesitates. His eyes drop briefly to the counter, then back up.
The machine whirs as the coffee beans are grinded, filling the silence for him.
“Hey, Robby. Coffee's done.” She taps his shoulder, then slides the cup across along with a brown paper bag. “And something extra, on the house. Take care. And be kind to yourself.”
He looks down at the bag with the croissant, then back up at her. His expression changes for a fraction of a second. His eyes soften around the edges, like an old dog who needs a little love.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
He nods, a bit slower this time.
“Coffee for Robby!” she calls out, sliding the cup forward on the counter.
“Thank you, um,” He reaches for it, then pauses, blinking like the thought catches up to him mid-motion. “It’s been almost a week and I never got your name.”
She glances up from the register, a little surprised but pleased.
“It’s Emmie, Emmie Laverne. You can also call me Em.”
He nods once, like he’s committing it to memory.
“Michael Robinavitch,” he says after a beat, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “But everyone calls me Robby.”
She brightens immediately. “Michael, huh? It suits you.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Yeah?”
A half-second pause. Her eyes widen just a touch, as if she’s recalculating how that sounded.
“Sorry, is that too forward?”
He lets out a small, easy breath, almost a laugh.
“No, no, you’re good.” He shifts the cup in his hand, then looks back at her. “Thank you, Em.” His smile settles in properly this time.
“Of course,” she says, softer now. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” He gives a small nod and steps away from the counter, coffee in hand.
He turns too slowly to leave.
The door stays open a second longer than it should.
“You aren’t here on weekends.” He says it like a complaint, his lips almost forming a pout.
“I just do weekday mornings.” She slides a cup across the counter. “Did you miss me, Michael?”
“Yeah,” he says immediately, too honest to back out now. “The barista doesn’t have my order memorised.”
She snorts softly while inserting the filter into the machine. “Well, to be fair, they’ve only seen you twice.”
“You saw me once.”
Emmie shakes her head. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Shh.” He leans forward a little, eyes bright. “You’ve got a good heart, kid.”
“I’m not a kid, I’m 23!”
That makes him pause just long enough to enjoy it.
“Still,” he says, like he’s decided this, “that makes me old enough to be your dad.”
“And how old are you, Robinavitch?”
“Fifty-three.”
Emmie freezes for half a second.
“…Fuck.” Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re older than my dad. That’s kinda hot.”
A beat.
“—sorry, that came out wrong.”
The milk frother hisses loudly in the awkward silence that follows.
He squints at her.
“Someone’s feeling bold this morning. Should I complain to the manager about your sexual harassment?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she leans on the counter, deadpan now. “You like it when I flirt.”
A grin tugs at her mouth,“Besides, I am the manager.”
“You?” His eyes narrow. “Really?”
“Owner, actually.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, setting his cup down like he needs stability. “Enough jokes.”
“Robby.” She tilts her head. “I’m not wearing a uniform.”
That lands.
His eyes linger on her, realising he's only noticed her attire and not the other staff he's seen wiping tables out of the corner of his eye, or the barista that takes his order on weekends.
“…You said you’re 23?”
“Twenty-three,” she repeats. “And owner of Lucky Clover Café.”
Silence again, but it's softer this time.
“Shit,” he says finally. “I’m sorry for assuming.”
She shrugs, already moving back to her usual rhythm, wiping the counter like nothing happened.
“No worries. Someone once asked if I was the owner’s daughter. I’m a big girl, Robby. I know my way around coffee and cakes.”
“No kidding.”
She glances at the clock. “Alright. This was fun, but if you stay any longer, your staff'll wonder why their attending's later than usual.”
He picks up his cup.
“Same time tomorrow?”
Robby turns before Emmie can notice his smile.
“Yep. See you tomorrow Em.”
“Hey, Robby, been a while.” Emmie glances up from the register, already halfway through something else. “Your usual?”
“Yes please, thank you Em.” He steps up, then hesitates slightly. “Can I bother you for a sec?”
She doesn’t look up immediately.
“Sorry Robby, I’m a bit busy.” Once she's made one coffee, she starts making two more, her hands never quite stop moving. “I’ll have your order done soon, okay?”
“…Yeah, okay.” He steps back half a pace, hands slipping into his pockets again.
The machine keeps hissing like it’s trying to fill the silence he just made.
“Hey, sorry.” Emmie slides his cup across the counter a bit later, finally looking up properly. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“It’s nothing.” He takes the cup, but doesn’t leave immediately. His eyes flick past her, then back. “You’re pretty popular today.”
“It’s about time.” she says, brightening instantly. Then she leans on the counter slightly. “But hey, I've got a minute, what's up?”
He shakes his head once. “Nah, it’s fine. I should go.”
Her smile softens a little, but she nods. “Okay…”
Then, like she just remembered,
“Before you go, Robby, these cups are new, so check the bottom on how to dispose 'em, m’kay?”
“Sure?” he says, already halfway turned away.
The cup feels normal. Same as always. He doesn't need to check, it's just a disposable coffee cup. They're all the same.
Coffee's half done, still, Robby knows he'll throw it out once he gets to The Pitt.
Just a bit more left, he's coming up to a bin, so he stands by for a moment.
Fuck it. He looks anyway. And underneath, in small, neat handwriting:
‘XXX-XXX-963 emmie ❤︎ xoxo’
A slow grin spreads before he can stop it.
“I knew it. Fucking flirt.” he mutters under his breath.
One hand lifts slightly to cover his mouth, like that’ll help.
Then he pulls out his phone:
🩺 、 Dr. Robby :
How did you know? It's Robby, by the way. Hello Em ;-)
( Emmie is typing . . . )
(1) New Message
🍡 、 emmie :
hii robby!! know what? :D
🩺 、 Dr. Robby :
How did you know I was going to ask for your #?
🍡 、 emmie :
LOL i just wanted to talk 2 you more :3c
you took ur time !!
ive been dropping hints for weeks!
🩺 、 Dr. Robby :
My bad.
I thought you just really liked making coffee.
What does :3c mean?
🍡 、 emmie :
hehe its like a cute cat face and a paw
like this :3
🩺 、 Dr. Robby :
Cute.
Anyway, I was wondering, whenever we're both free if you'd like to go to dinner with me?
( Emmie is typing . . . )
(1) New Message
🍡 、 emmie :
i'd love to !!! 🩷
🩺 、 Dr. Robby :
Wonderful. It's a date. I'll text you the details tonight.