On-call room. 2:17 a.m.
Lights dimmed to "mood" level, which in hospital terms meant one flickering bulb and the faint beep of someone's forgotten pager.
Robin had Adam pinned against the wall, blonde hair everywhere, legs wrapped around his waist like she was trying to win a rodeo.
"Say my name," she growled, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Robin," Adam panted, grinning like an idiot who thought he'd survived the storm. "Robin Sparkles, Robin Stabby, Robin—fuck—yes, just like that—"
She moaned, biting his neck. Things were going legendary. Adam's hands—those famous "surgical precision" hands—were doing things that would've made Dr. Burke blush and Dr. Sloan take notes.
Then Robin shifted, grinding down hard, and Adam's brain short-circuited the way it always did when blood flow relocated south.
"God, Alice, you're so—shit—sorry, it's a habit—"
The room went dead silent except for the drip-drip-drip of the leaky faucet.
Robin froze mid-thrust.
Her eyes went from bedroom to battlefield in 0.3 seconds.
"Alice?" she whispered, dangerously sweet. "Alice?"
Adam's soul left his body. "Wait, no—Robin, baby, I meant—"
"You meant the other blonde you rail when I'm not around?" She climbed off him so fast he nearly dropped her. Naked, furious, magnificent. "I knew it! 'Habit' my ass! You've got a goddamn rotation!"
Adam, still painfully hard and now painfully exposed, raised both hands like he was surrendering to a SWAT team. "It's muscle memory! Like when I call a retractor a 'clamp' in the OR—my mouth just—"
"Your mouth is about to get retracted," Robin snarled, grabbing the nearest thing—a rolled-up copy of Grey's Anatomy (the textbook, ironically)—and smacking him across the chest. "You absolute man-whore!"
THWACK.
"Ow! That's medical literature!"
THWACK.
"Call me Alice again and I'll make you eat it!"
The door burst open.
Cristina Yang stood there in scrubs, hair in a messy bun, holding two coffees like she'd just walked into the wrong OR.
She took in the scene: Adam butt-naked, sporting a textbook-shaped welt and the world's most awkward erection; Robin naked, wielding Grey's Anatomy like a war hammer.
Cristina blinked once.
"...I came to tell you the chief wants you in the pit for a GSW, but clearly you're already performing emergency surgery."
Robin didn't even flinch. "He called me Alice."
Cristina's eyebrows shot up. "Oof. Rookie mistake. Even I know not to do that." She sipped her coffee. "Pro tip, Duncan: next time you're mid-thrust, just grunt. Less syllables, fewer casualties."
Adam groaned, covering himself with a pillow. "Can we not have an audience?"
"Too late," Cristina said, leaning against the doorframe like she was watching her favorite soap. "This is better than Netflix. Continue. I'll time how long it takes her to castrate you."
Robin turned the textbook threateningly toward Cristina. "You want in on this too, Yang?"
"Nah, I'm good. Burke's waiting. But if you need a surgical consult on how to remove his balls without anesthesia, page me." She winked at Adam. "Try not to die, hotshot. We still need you for that lion-syndrome follow-up tomorrow."
The door clicked shut.
Robin rounded on Adam again, eyes blazing. "You have three seconds to explain why your 'habit' involves another woman's name while you're inside me."
Adam swallowed. "...Because my brain is a medical textbook and my dick is a highlighter?"
Wrong answer.
The textbook flew.
Ten minutes later the entire floor heard Robin's victory yell: "That's for Alice!"
And somewhere down the hall, Meredith Grey poked her head out of another on-call room, hair equally wrecked, and muttered, "...I give it a week before they're back at it."
Adam, now curled in the fetal position with a pillow over his head, could only whimper:
"Lesson learned… mostly."
End Omake
(Next time Adam will just say "baby" like a normal degenerate. Or maybe not. We all know he won't.)
belamy20 😈