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Jack arrived early so he could roll with Robby for a bit, 1830 and the ED a mess, so obviously it was a day ending in y. A glance showed Robby caught up in Trauma-2, the board said stabilizing a GSW to the chest—apparently the shooting was starting early tonight, fuck Saturdays, honestly. As Jack started toward the locker room to stow his gear, Dana came back with a coffee, shooting him a look that had him pausing. "Problem?"
"Santos lost one. She's been in the viewing room for a minute," Dana said, meaningful.
"Her bad?" Jack asked, just wanting to check.
"Missed a bleed, iffy, but you know." Right because Santos was all swaggery ego, but it was covering insecurity; Robby said she was settling down, but she'd only been here a month. If a patient died and it maybe felt like her fault, that'd hit her hard.
"Copy." Jack dropped his pack in one of the empty chairs, reversing course and heading for the viewing room.
***
Jack found Santos staring at the body of a young woman, sheet pulled up to her chest, tube still in her throat. The family probably hadn't come by yet, else they'd have moved her. Santos seemed frozen.
"Santos," he said, prompting.
She jumped, like she hadn't heard him come in. "Yeah. Need me?" she asked, even as he could see the exhaustion in the lines of her young face, the wisps of hair pulled from her ponytail.
"You're good," he said, reassuring.
It seemed to land on her. She shook her head, looking back to the body. "I missed it. Her vitals had stabilized, I thought—I missed it," she said again.
"It's never easy," he said, shooting her an understanding look. "But part of the job is to distinguish between what you can do and what you can't. If it's something you should've caught, those are the hard lessons, the kind that turn into scars. We've all got 'em. That's why you have people around you to rely on, to keep an eye out. It wasn't just you who missed it; it was all of us." She looked down at that, frowning like she was taking it in. The young hotshot who thought herself a rockstar, like she was practicing medicine on an island, like there weren't half a dozen people looking over her shoulder at any moment. Jack remembered those days.
But he had another point to make: "And if it's something no one could've caught," he shook his head, "well, that's just life. Sometimes you can do everything right and they die anyway."
She looked over at him then, something complicated in her expression. "So you just shrug it off?"
"Eventually. In a way. And look, I'm not saying you shouldn't care or that you shouldn't feel it. Hell, I think it's good to feel it. Keeps you human. But it's also inevitable. You're just starting out; you get to decide what practicing medicine looks like for you. This feeling you have right now, that's emergency medicine. The highs are high, but the lows will break your heart. And if you don't want that weight, I get it. You have options." He lightened a little, crooking a sly grin at her. "Go into plastics: good schedule, tons of money, and your patients never die on you."
Santos shot him an incredulous look, then laughed once, like she couldn't help herself. "Right."
"Think about it," he said, teasing. He dropped a hand to her shoulder, making sure it was paternal, supportive. "Take a moment. Then get up off the mat."
She swallowed, like it was hard, then nodded. "Thanks."
He tipped his head and left her to it.
***
Jack had just stepped back onto the main floor when he clocked movement at the ambulance entrance, two guys hurrying in, the smaller one helping a guy with a sweatshirt covered in blood. But something was wrong, some unnamable instinct rising within Jack at the way they moved. It was too fluid, too controlled. Jack knew what the walking wounded looked like, had seen it for years, from war zones to bar fights. This wasn't the injured seeking help; this was men hunting.
Time slowed, Jack's heart rate spiking, the adrenaline dump casting everything in sharp relief—the full ED floor, patients plus shift change meaning twice the usual personnel were here.
Robby was here.
That thought got him moving, Jack approaching laterally. He got there right as the guns came out.
Their situational awareness was for shit, they didn't even clock Jack before he was on them, two quick strikes to the big guy's kidneys, dropping him like a stone. The smaller one swung on Jack, but he expected that, hitting him with a wrist strike that dropped the gun instantly, his hand immobilized. Jack followed with a closed fist strike to the pressure point in his neck, hard enough to knock him out, not hard enough to kill him.
Doors opening behind him, the sound of sneakers, rushing. Not boots, so not cops, no gurney, so not medics, too fast—third guy. Jack dodged to the side as he turned—
Just as a third guy slashed a knife at him. The tail end of it caught him in the side—bright bloom of pain, a slice, not life-threatening, irrelevant. Jack used his momentum against him, grabbing that hand and wrenching it back, spinning him into a sleeper hold. He counted to six in his head, the guy going limp in his arms, out. Jack promptly dropped him to the floor, then kicked all their weapons away.
Satisfaction slid through Jack. Three guys, maybe ten seconds, threat neutralized. That was what civilians didn't understand about violence, that the movies got wrong. Violence was fast, there and gone before you even knew what happened. Unless you'd trained in it.
He looked out to find the whole of the floor staring at him, hushed. "What? I learned how to kill people before I learned to save them, remember?" he challenged, clocking a single point of movement. Robby, rushing to him, a kind of terror on his face.
"Jack!" Robby called, a note of panic in that.
"What?" he asked again, not getting it.
"You're bleeding, Abbot," Dana said, already with a phone to her ear. Calling for help, probably.
Jack looked down just before Robby got to him, blood seeping through his scrub top. "Barely a flesh wound," he muttered as everyone finally moved past the shock—
And the room exploded into sound. A cacophony of reactions—"What the fuck?" "I don't get paid enough for this." "So Abbot's the Terminator, I guess." "Well, that was stupid hot"—but Jack tuned it out because Robby was there, pressing soft hands to his side, lifting his scrub top to check.
Jack caught sight of the wound—four-inch surface lac, abdomen to hip, bleeding sluggishly, no big deal—as Robby breathed out, putting pressure on it to staunch the flow. "See?" Jack said, "it's fine."
Robby gripped his arm just as Ahmad ran up to take charge of the guys on the floor. "Dana, what's open?" Robby called, physically moving Jack, annoying.
"Man, I'm fine," Jack insisted just as Dana said, "North-3."
Robby hauled him that way, into the room, then pulled the curtain so no one could see. "What the hell were you thinking?" Robby asked, low and tight, moving in close, his hand still keeping pressure on the wound.
"That I didn't want anyone to die," Jack shot back, obvious, standing his ground.
"You can't fucking do that, Jack," Robby insisted, getting his free arm around him, pulling him close.
"So I should've let them start shooting?" Jack said, but it was weak, distracted by how Robby was gripping him—hand fisted in the back of his scrub top, forehead going to Jack's shoulder as he breathed like he'd run a race, Robby's body faintly trembling against him. He didn't move to try and treat the wound, beyond the pressure, because Robby knew as well as he that it was no big deal. Instead, Robby seemed intent on holding Jack in place, still and close, right where he could have hands and eyes on him.
...oh. Robby was worried. No, Robby was freaking the fuck out. Robby, who only knew the aftermath of violence, soft and caring and so very gentle. Robby, who had lost Adamson here, who'd lost Jake here, in a way, who couldn't bear to lose anyone else to this place.
Jack softened, his annoyance draining away. Pittfest had been a kick in the balls, but Robby had been clawing his way back in the month since, getting a referral from Jack's therapist, actually going to the appointments, finally trying. Of course a detonation of that meager calm would hit him.
"Hey, hey," Jack said, bringing one hand to the back of Robby's neck and gripping there, reassuring. He took the hand Robby had over the wound—it really was fine, he wasn't gonna bleed out—bringing it to his carotid. He leaned his forehead to the side of Robby's head, speaking lowly. "Feel that? I'm fine," he soothed, holding Robby's fingers there so he could feel his pulse, steady and even. Robby stilled, paying attention, even if he didn't lift his head.
They just stood like that, breathing together. Robby smelled like a long day in the ED—coffee and hand sanitizer and something specifically him. After long moments, Robby's breath slowed, some of the tension leaving his body. He raised his head from Jack's shoulder, Jack ducking to catch his eyes, connecting. Robby hadn't come back to himself fully yet, still half-gone, so Jack leaned his forehead against Robby's and murmured, "We're okay, man."
Robby took another breath, but it was shaking, different somehow. The hand at his neck moved up, cupping his jaw, some kind of energy flaring. Robby turned his head toward Jack, breathing against his jaw, a bright bloom of heat that shot straight through him, Jack's heart suddenly racing. Robby pulled back slightly to look at him, thumb running over his cheek, a new glint in his eyes. The moment held, tension stretching between them, transforming into something Jack recognized: that aching, pulse-pounding moment before a kiss. Sound roared in his ears as that realization landed: Robby wanted to kiss him. And Jack wanted him to.
What the fuck.
"Where's Abbot?" Gloria suddenly barked from nearby, out in the hall, the curtain separating them from sight, not sound.
They startled apart, Robby stepping back, Jack's heart still pounding in his ears, reeling at whatever the hell that moment was—
That moment that had never fucking happened before, because they didn't do that, they weren't like that, Jack didn't even go for guys. Except he'd wanted that, he wanted it back, his body keyed up and aware, the buzz of arousal slipping through him. Part of that was the adrenaline of the fight getting him going, sure, but it wasn't all of it.
Horror leaking into his eyes, Robby promptly bailed on the moment, pulling back the curtain to call, "Here."
Jack blinked at the sudden shift and then Gloria was there, looking on in bureaucratic concern. "He all right?"
"Abdominal lac, he'll be fine. Dr. King," Robby called out into the hall, trusting that summons to get passed.
Gloria addressed him then. "Get patched up. I'll call Shen to cover your shift."
While Jack suddenly felt like he didn't know much of anything, he knew that wasn't happening: "Oh, hell no, I'm fine to work."
Gloria looked to Robby, who was carefully not looking Jack's way, but at least he nodded. "I'll clear him."
"Fine. That'll make it easy to find him when we need to chat."
Dread slammed into Jack, in the part of his mind not obsessing over how Robby was not looking at him. "Fuck, am I gonna have to talk to lawyers?"
Gloria shot him a look. "Consider it a prelude to talking to cops."
"Fuck me," Jack muttered, already feeling the headache coming on.
Then Mel arrived, bright-eyed, like she was at the start of her shift, not the end. Her boundless enthusiasm was really something else. "How can I help?"
Robby gestured to Jack, amazingly without making any eye contact whatsoever. "Dr. Abbot here's got an abdominal lac that needs some sutures. If he tries to do it himself, I give you permission to stab him with a needle. Somewhere sensitive," he added, lighter.
Mel went concerned and said, "Oh, Dr. Robby, I don't think that's a good idea," with such earnestness that Jack actually laughed.
Or possibly he was a little hysterical.
Robby finally did look at him then, quick and inscrutable, before turning back to Mel. "I leave him in your capable hands. Gloria," he invited, drawing her away. Which at least was something.
Then Mel was turning to him with a tight smile. "You're not gonna try to do it yourself, right, Dr. Abbot?" she asked, genuinely worried. "Because I do not recommend that. And I also don't want to stab you with a needle. I mean, other than for sutures. Obviously."
Jack snorted, fond, despite himself. These kids.
He headed to the bed, resigning himself to it. "Just know, I will be judging your stitches."
Mel's smile dropped.
***
Her stitches were perfect, like, put-them-in-a-textbook kind of perfect. He'd like to think it was his encouragement, but really, Mel was just the most precise of all the baby docs. Which was why Robby had chosen her. That and she wouldn't ogle him or spread tales of the experience.
It was thoughtful and considerate, so entirely Robby.
Robby, who had wanted to kiss him. The shock of that lingered at the back of Jack's mind as he did the changeover, Robby as clipped and matter-of-fact as it was possible to be, never directly meeting Jack's eyes. It lingered as Jack talked to legal—saying as little as possible—and then the cops—ignoring their faintly impressed looks.
It lingered as he handled the onslaught, Saturday nights always a shitshow, now with added teasing. People were actually taking to the Terminator moniker, the leg no help there. Jack would never live it down.
His mind kept going round and round on it, in the in-between moments. Because the thing was...he didn't go for guys. That wasn't a thing. He didn't have a problem with it; he'd learned long ago how to gamely pass on male attention, amused, taking it as a compliment. He'd never once looked at a guy and wanted.
Until today.
And Jack knew what they said; sexuality was a spectrum, not a binary. It wasn't gay or straight, it was a continuum. He was surrounded by various points on that continuum and that was awesome, life was a rich tapestry, but he'd never connected that to himself.
And he'd certainly never connected it to Robby, who'd exclusively dated women—that he knew, he supposed—although he was pretty terrible at that, despite the many women who tried. Jack always assumed it was because he was so closed off. But maybe it was something else?
Jack didn't like that this had blindsided him. He was an expert in Robby, he should know these things about him, those were the rules. But Robby had broken them and now he was at sea.
Around 2100 he realized that he wouldn't be getting any answers about Robby, so there was no point in obsessing there. He might as well figure himself out first.
But every time Jack thought about it, his mind went all blue screen of death. Like, what? Was he supposed to be suddenly lusting after the cultural It Boys? Who the fuck even were they? Chris Hemsworth? Chalamet? Michael B. Jordan? He understood the appeal to women—they were objectively good-looking guys—but they did nothing for Jack. Other than thinking Hemsworth really needed to dial down the steroids and someone needed to feed Chalamet a sandwich.
So Jack focused on Robby. It wasn't about other guys, since that had never been a thing. This was about Robby. And Robby was a warm place in his heart, he knew that. But it wasn't something prurient. It was brotherhood, going into the shit together, that deep kind of knowing only possible from those who did what Jack did because no one else could ever hope to understand. And yeah, it was love, the same way he'd say he loved his casevac crew in Iraq. Jack was too old, and had lost too much, to pussyfoot around that shit.
But then, he never suddenly wanted to kiss any of them, so he supposed it might be a little different.
Plus, there was the sex thing. Having an intense moment and surprise attraction was one thing, but did he want to fuck Robby? Jack knew more about sex than most people, even the kinds of sex he did not have, because the ED was on the frontlines of how it could go terribly, sometimes hilariously wrong. He'd fucked around on libo in the Army, because that's what you did in the Army, but he'd only ever been with women. He'd literally never thought about sleeping with guys, so despite knowing the mechanics, it still felt alien to him. Because knowing intellectually was different than doing.
He tried to picture it—him and Robby, naked and twined together in bed—startling at the buzz of interest that shot through him. That was—
...okay, so that said something. Sex with guys, not off the table. Well. Sex with Robby. And he should probably back off thinking about that because he was at work where he was saving people's lives and he probably shouldn't be picturing having sex with his best friend while doing so. At the very least, it seemed unprofessional.
Though he couldn't help but wander down the path of the questions that asked. Was it possible to be gay for one specific person? Jack didn't think that was how it worked...but what the hell did he know?
He could use some expert advice.
***
In the usual 0200 lull, with the nurses all elsewhere, Jack turned from his computer to Parker. "Yo, Ellis, question for you."
Still charting, she said, "Shoot."
"How'd you know you were gay?"
Parker's attention snapped to him. She raised a single eyebrow. "The specter of a dick anywhere near my person makes me want to vomit. Including yours, prettyboy, don't even try using those eyes on me."
Jack grinned because she knew he'd never. "You don't think I could turn you around?" he teased.
"Mmm. Give me the confidence of a white man. That shit's like a drug and y'all are high all the time."
Jack huffed a laugh. "Thank you for not including the 'mediocre' in there."
"It was a conscious decision, be grateful." Then she tilted her head, her locs shifting, even secured in her bun. "Why are we talking about my terminal lesbianism during the dead zone?"
"I'm having a weird day."
"Well, it's night. So there's that."
Jack nodded the point, then thought about what she said. He wasn't actively repulsed by the dick thing, seeing as he had one and all, plus that whole interest in Robby. But neither was it a turn-on, in principle. Asking a lesbian might not actually be relevant, now that he thought about it.
But Parker was still watching him. "Seriously, do I need to be concerned over here?"
Jack crooked a grin at her. "Aw, Parker, you worry about me?"
"I'm not breaking in a new attending; that's way too much work for me. And put that face away, I said what I said."
"I can't help my face," he drawled, flirting a little just to poke at her.
Parker narrowed her eyes. "Is this about you and Robby?"
Jack made sure not to react. "What about me and Robby?" he asked, even, because he'd had no-shit interrogation training, 'here's what to do if a terrorist captures you and puts you on video and cuts off your head' training; Parker Ellis was not gonna get the drop on him, as formidable as she was.
She seemed disappointed in his reaction. "You two have always had a vibe. Now you're asking about my gay awakening. A girl can connect the dots."
"Interesting theory," he said, keeping it inscrutable, though he was kinda impressed. This was why Parker was his favorite resident.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, keep your secrets. But if it is that, I fully support it. Reject compulsive heterosexuality, Jack, it's boring." Then she thought a moment. "But I don't want to hear anything about white boy dicks."
Jack laughed aloud. "Copy that."
***
Parker wasn't wrong, really. Jack grew up in a time where the only widespread acknowledgment of gay people was the AIDS crisis. He trained up under DADT. Which was considered progress for the military because hey, at least it was a possible way to avoid getting dishonorably discharged. Heterosexuality wasn't compulsive, exactly, but it was certainly the default option, widely assumed, and anything else was deviant. And even beyond that, Jack had just...never thought much about it.
He was thinking about it now.
***
They had another lull just after 0400 and Jack locked in on Mateo, doing the rare night shift. He knew that Mateo was considered "the hot guy" of the ED—poor Javadi's hopeless crush a source of endless amusement for everyone...except for Javadi, he supposed—but he didn't get it. Like, yeah, he was a good-looking dude, all symmetric features and a jawline and built. It made intellectual sense. But Jack felt absolutely nothing when he looked at him.
Which, of course, Mateo noticed. "You all right, Dr. Abbot?" he asked in the breakroom, grabbing a cup of coffee.
"That is an excellent question." Ah, fuck it. "Hey, you like guys, right?"
Mateo blinked at him, shifting from 'attentive nurse' to something more amused as he sipped his coffee. "I like everyone," he drawled with a little smile that said yes, he meant it that way.
Jack nodded. "How'd you figure that out?"
Mateo's eyebrows rose. "Well, wanting to fuck them was a big clue."
"Yeah, that's fair," Jack said. Was it really that simple? Fucking Robby sparked interest, so who cared about the rest of it?
"What...conversation are we having right now?" Mateo asked, light.
Jack held up his hands. "If I am making you uncomfortable, that's my bad, I will walk away." Because right, this might be an HR violation?
Mateo actually grinned. "I am not even a little bit uncomfortable and really wanna know where this is headed."
Jack smiled, appreciating the generosity there. "Wish I had a destination in mind." Then something occurred to him: "So is it true that dating guys is easier?"
Mateo shrugged. "Depends what you mean by 'dating.' Getting off? Sure. One-off hookups with guys is what the internet was made for. But if you actually want a relationship, nah. It's just as frustrating."
Jack considered. If he was really into guys, he could've been getting so many more blowjobs, this was tragic. But given that he still wasn't thinking anything about Mateo more than, 'good guy, good nurse,' it might not be a Liking Guys Generally situation.
Jack still didn't know what that was about, but it was really not something to discuss with subordinates at work.
So he just nodded genially and said, "Got it. Hey, thanks, man."
Mateo eyed him, still amused, but just said, "Any time, man," like he was mocking the bro-talk even as he used it. Which, also fair.
***
By the time the end of shift rolled around and he handed off to Shen, Jack was grumpy about people's relentless insistence on sticking random objects up their asses and also had no firm answers about himself. So he resolved to put it in a box and get some sleep. He'd figure it out when his brain was less tired.
Naturally, Robby was waiting on his front steps when he got home at 0830, bundled in a hoodie and jeans, looking like he'd been there a while. The sun shined down on him like one of god's favored children, but there was tiredness around his eyes, like he hadn't slept. Alongside it lived determination. A man on a mission.
Jack's heart leapt at sight of him. He still wanted to kiss him, just to see what happened. So that was a thing.
He stopped before Robby, studying him. "How'd you know I wasn't on the way to your place?"
Robby shrugged. "You'd want to sleep on it first." Which was true.
Jack huffed a laugh. "So you decided not to let me?"
Robby shrugged again. "Figured I'd save you the tossing and turning." Which is what he had done all night, if Jack was any judge.
And really, what? Like Jack was going to send him away? That wasn't a thing they did. Robby had keys to his place, for fuck's sake. He could've waited inside if he wanted. "Come on up."
***
Robby was quiet in the elevator and quiet as Jack unlocked the door and let them in and they were never this quiet, the two of them. They were always going back and forth on something, from the hijinks of the baby doctors to the tragedy of the Pens' everything. The quiet was unnerving. But if that was how Robby wanted to play it, then fine, Jack tamped down on his instinct to say something, busying himself with dropping his pack on the bench and closing the door behind them. Then he turned back to look at Robby—
Who instantly started in, all sad eyes and contrite expression: "I'm sorry. I lost it a little bit back there and the moment got away from me. I never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable position."
It was formal and reasoned and entirely thought out. He'd probably spent all night composing this conversation, mapping out exactly how to navigate it to limit the damage.
All of which pissed Jack off.
"How long?" he asked, sharp, only now realizing he was wondering that. Where had this happened, that Jack had missed clocking it?
Robby blinked at him, surprised by the shortness, maybe, something like regret flashing over his face. "Oh, you know. A while." But the way he said it meant years.
"The whole time?" Jack pressed, in disbelief. How had he missed that?
Robby smiled, something small and bitter. "I may have held out a week after meeting you. It's kind of hazy."
Jack sucked in a breath—he'd been married then, delighted to find someone in the ED who challenged him, Jack reaching for off-the-wall ideas and Robby pulling him back, all clever mind and steady hands. And it turned out that apparently Robby had wanted him the whole fucking time? "You date women. You never mentioned guys. You were with Janey for years. Collins," he added because that wasn't even that long ago.
Robby rubbed his hand over his face. "Yeah, it turns out dating while carrying a torch for someone else is kinda shitty. They deserved better." He looked resigned, like he knew this was going bad and was just waiting for the final implosion.
Right, that probably meant Jack should stop interrogating Robby's feelings and start talking about his own.
"If you asked me yesterday, I would've said I was entirely straight. But I wanted to kiss you back there." Then he shrugged, figuring what the hell. "I still do."
Robby's focus snapped to him, utterly shocked. "...what?"
"Yeah, I dunno, either. Dudes are not my speed. But I was into that. And now I can't stop thinking about it."
Robby just stared at him, so much flickering through his expression—surprise and disbelief and some kind of desperate yearning that Jack could actually feel.
"You—still?" Robby asked, like he couldn't wrap his mind around it.
Right, Jack had had longer to sit with the idea, he should probably step up here. He moved closer to Robby, whose eyes dropped to the space between them before lifting to Jack's face again as he neared. He seemed frozen in place. "You wanted to kiss me back there and I wanted you to, so I think—" His voice hitched, but no, he could do this, this was fine. "I think we should try that."
Robby just watched him, his eyes gone big, something aching about the look. "To what end?" he finally asked, almost pained.
Jack took the final step to close the distance between them, pressing a hand to Robby's chest, feeling his heart beating there. "Don't you want to know?"
Robby shook his head once. "Fuck," he said helplessly, then leaned in and kissed him.
The beard was weird, different, as was tilting his head up to kiss, but Robby's mouth was soft, brushing over his once, twice, sparks sliding through him, warming him up. Robby teased his lips with tiny kisses, one hand cupping his jaw, brushing his tongue against his bottom lip lightly and Jack couldn't help the small noise he made, opening his mouth—
Robby crushed their mouths together, tongue tangling with Jack's, and fuck, Robby knew how to kiss. Jack's whole body went blazing hot as Robby just took his mouth, exploring, claiming. He gripped Robby's shoulders, holding him close and then they were swaying, moving—
Jack's back hit the door and fuck, yes, something to brace against as he pressed forward into the kiss, trying to get more. Robby made some kind of wounded noise, like it was so good it hurt, his heavy body pinning Jack against the door, a thrill he never saw coming, and oh god, he wanted him.
The thought—clear as a bell—made him break off the kiss, panting. Robby was flushed, his expression some kind of reeling, like this couldn't be happening even as it was all he wanted. That look sent another zing through Jack, body lit up like he hadn't been in years.
Jack sucked in a breath, licking his lips, Robby's eyes dropping there with a kind of focus that sent a little pulse of heat through him. "Think I just kissed heterosexuality goodbye," Jack muttered. "Literally."
Robby huffed a hysterical kind of laugh. "How the fuck are you making jokes right now?"
"Coping mechanism. C'mere." He got a hand around the back of Robby's neck and tugged him close, finding his mouth again. The beard was less weird this time, Robby's mouth open and wet. Jack sank into the kiss, breathing Robby in—he still smelled good, like Robby after a shower and Jesus Christ, how did he know so much about how Robby smelled—mouths sliding over each other like they'd been doing this for ages, the kisses lush and wanting, less frantic now. Jack's body hummed with it, arousal sharpening at the slick slide of their mouths.
He found Robby's hand and pressed it between them, down to where he was half-hard. Robby made a hungry kind of noise, cupping him perfectly, Jack panting at the shot of lust it raced up his spine. He broke off to breathe into Robby's mouth. "So I haven't before, but I think you should come to bed."
Robby stared at him, flushed, eyes heavy and wanting. "I wish I were the guy who could say no to that," he said, like he was a little ashamed of himself.
Jack smiled. "I'm glad you're not." Then he fused their mouths together and pushed Robby back toward his bedroom.
It was different, doing the ripping-clothes-off-on-the-way-to-bed thing. Robby was undeniably male: bigger than Jack, solid, he didn't follow Jack's lead, he pushed back. Jack got his hoodie off, but before he could go further, Robby was pulling his scrub top up and off, taking his mouth again as blunt nails scratched down the line of his naked back, Jack shivering at the way it lit him up.
"Why is that so hot?" Jack mumbled as they reached the bed, Robby huffing a laugh into his mouth, then kissing him again.
Jack pushed his t-shirt up and off, breaking the kiss, and that was different again—flat chest, chest hair, undeniably a guy. He paused, tracing through Robby's dark chest hair, flecked with strands of gray, exploring. Robby had gone equally still, careful eyes watching Jack, like he expected a freakout.
Which was kind of insulting, maybe? "Gimme some credit," he muttered, then leaned up for his mouth again.
Robby smiled into the kiss, brushing his tongue over Jack's as shaky hands worked at his cargos, where his cock was hard and aching, fuck. But that was something, he thought, Robby's ever-steady hands trembling when he touched Jack.
Then he was fisting Jack's cock and coherent thought went buh-bye, consumed by pleasure, Jack moaning as he lost track of the kiss, Robby touching him expertly.
Jack could do nothing but fuck into his fist and pant against his neck as fire screamed through him, so much so fast that he was dizzy with it. Robby's hand was big and firm—and that was another difference, girls were always too tentative at first, careful, but Robby knew how not to be and fuck.
Dimly, Jack realized he could come like this, without even getting their clothes off, and he understood why Robby would go that route, but at the same time, he didn't want it to be like that. Anyone could get a handjob and it meant whatever; that wasn't this.
So Jack reached down and grabbed his hand, saying, "Hang on, hang on," against his jaw, liking the scratch of his beard against Jack's lips.
Robby froze, sudden tension in him, like he thought he'd done something wrong. So Jack turned and kissed him, lingering. Then he pulled back to look him in the eye. "I want to get in on this."
Robby sucked in a breath, then swallowed, desire written all over his face. "Whatever you want," he said, voice lower than Jack had ever heard, all rumbly and dark. That was Robby turned on, he realized, a little zing going through him at the idea. He nudged Robby's hand from his cock, then reached out to cup the bulge in Robby's jeans. He kept his eyes on Robby's face, so he got to see his eyes flutter, mouth opening slightly, pleasure racing over his expression. I did that, he thought, a heady kind of elation bubbling through him.
As with everything else, touching Robby's cock was just different. It was a familiar thing at a new angle, Robby subtly pushing into his hand to get more, like he couldn't help himself. And that got Jack going, his own body tingling with it, desperate to make Robby look like that more.
Jack released him and got both hands to his jeans, opening them so he could push in, touch skin, Robby hot and hard under his hand, making a tiny high noise as Jack drew his cock out and stroked him. And this, too, was different, but good, Robby gripping his shoulders, all flushed and glassy-eyed, expression a shade desperate. Robby was bigger than Jack, and he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing, but when Robby leaned in to take his mouth again, Jack decided he didn't care. He rotated his wrist on the upstroke, making Robby moan helplessly into his mouth, and he'd never felt so goddamn powerful in his life.
Then Robby was mumbling into his mouth, "Jack, please," and it pierced the fog of lust, Jack slowing his hand and pulling back to meet his eyes.
Robby looked faintly mindblown, which Jack decided was one of his new favorite looks. He might start making a list. "Problem?"
Robby waved a vague hand. "We could get in the bed," he offered, like what a novelty.
Jack just grinned. "Strip," he ordered, stepping back to do the same. Robby grunted as Jack released him, but hey, he'd asked.
Then they were both fumbling with clothes, Robby kicking out of his jeans quickly, Jack taking a bit longer, sitting to take off the prosthetic. But then Robby was there, on his knees on the floor before him—Jesus fucking Christ, what—soft fingers brushing over Jack's as they removed it together, Robby looking up to meet his eyes, a question there.
Feeling a weird flash of vulnerability, Jack powered through it and shrugged. "You can," he said because he'd trust Robby with anything.
Robby's eyes somehow softened even more. He brought light fingers to Jack's stump, checking over it carefully, not meant to be a tease, and yet Jack felt it go right to his cock, hard and neglected. He grabbed the back of Robby's neck and kissed him roughly, a downward angle now, and how was it that felt weird, like he'd gotten used to leaning up?
Jack leaned back to pant against his mouth, "I really need out of these pants," and Robby just laughed.
His eyes were bright as he pulled back. "Think I can help with that," he said, reaching for Jack.
Jack lifted his hips when prompted, Robby stripping his cargos and underwear and tossing them aside, instantly forgotten. Then he crawled onto the bed, next to Jack, pressing close—
Jack got a hand around his back and pulled, Robby sprawling over him, a heavy weight pressing him down. And oh, that was good, Jack making a wanting noise as he found Robby's mouth again, rocking his cock up against Robby's body, pleasure rushing through him anew.
"Fucking hell," Robby breathed, rolling his hips against Jack, kissing him messily, open and wet, Jack digging fingers into his hair and gripping. He hadn't thought about this, Robby a solid weight over him like this, and something thrilled at the base of his spine, in his chest, skin tingling as their sweat mingled. He touched everywhere he could reach, Robby broad and muscled, but a little soft. Civilian, his mind whispered. What he had to protect.
"Jack," Robby mumbled into his mouth, half-gone. "Jack, dunno what you want, but I'm—"
"Like this, like this," he said, hiking a leg over his hip and really grinding up into him, pleasure a burn under his skin, his orgasm getting closer.
Robby choked and dropped his forehead as he moved against Jack, body starting to shake. Jack got a hand in his hair and yanked his head back, wanting to see this. Robby met his eyes and his expression just collapsed, pleasure flashing over his face as he shuddered against Jack's body, coming hot between them. Another new favorite look to add to his list.
Jack moaned at the feel of it, Robby still thrusting against him, a wet slide of skin that sent lightning through him. "Fuck, Robby," he said, jerking his own hips up.
But then Robby was sliding over, tipping onto his side, still half on top of Jack, but giving nothing for him to thrust against. Jack made a noise of protest—
Only for Robby's hand to grip him tight—slick, with his own come, holy shit. Robby jerked him hard and fast, watching, Jack desperately fucking up into his fist, every single nerve in his body lit up in bliss. He only lasted a few strokes before he was coming hard into Robby's fist, a wave of pleasure that scraped him raw, feeling totally exposed under Robby's dark gaze, but still somehow totally safe.
Robby worked him through it, just exactly right—and that was different, too, Jack riding the high of it, breath shaky and fast, his come adding to the mess between them.
And then Robby eased off, Jack slumping to the bed, his heart pounding oddly in his chest. Robby rested against him, a long line of heat against the side of his body, his forehead bowed to Jack's shoulder as they both breathed, bodies calming.
Eventually, Jack scrubbed his hand over Robby's hair, affectionate, feeling Robby lean up into it. He pulled his head up, looking down at Jack, a wild kind of happiness in the lines of his face, nothing he could hide. Or maybe he wasn't trying to for once.
There was a thought.
Jack grinned at him. "So that was awesome, but this is gross," he said, waving to the mess of come over his chest and hips.
Robby snorted, leaning down to kiss him. "Right back," he murmured, then kissed him again, like he couldn't not. Jack smiled to discover he was sentimental like that. How very Robby.
Then he was up and walking to Jack's bathroom. Jack just watched him go, eyeing the flex of his ass, the long lines of him, in interest. So the sex thing would be fine, he realized. Then reconsidered: no, the sex thing would be great. This was like an entire new variety for Jack to dive into, with Robby already on top of it. He needed to ask about that, actually, what Robby had been getting up to. Whatever it was, Jack was impressed by his discretion; he'd had no idea. He yawned and stretched, body feeling good, tiredness tugging at him.
Then Robby was back, with a warm washcloth to clean up the mess, instantly tossed aside. Robby maneuvered them under the covers, Jack rolling into his pillow with a sigh, feeling Robby collapse next to him.
"Oh, that's another bonus," Jack realized, muttering into his pillow.
"Hmm?" Robby said, sounding half-asleep.
"You won't think I'm an asshole for passing out after."
Robby shifted, a warm hand pressing to his back. "I won't think anything because I'll be passed out."
Jack smiled. "Like I said. Bonus."
Robby's hum of amusement followed him into sleep.
***
Jack woke what felt like a few hours later, the glorious thrum of sex still echoing through him. He felt loose and sated, kinda hungry, but then, he had forgotten to eat. He'd had more important things going on. He turned over and found Robby still asleep under the covers, curled on his side, little spikes of hair poking up at odd angles, face smushed into the pillow. His breathing was deep and even, something wildly reassuring in that. Jack watched him for a while; he looked limp, like he'd collapsed into sleep, giving himself over to it. Jack had never seen him so relaxed.
Then again, he'd never watched Robby sleep, so that was probably part of it.
After a moment, Robby breathed in deeper, moving a little as he woke, and something terribly fond rose up in Jack at the sight. Robby blinked muzzy eyes at him, smiling a little, before settling again. "Hey, man."
Oh, fuck no. They were not doing that.
So Jack slid close, pressing up against Robby's body, clocking his sharp breath in before Jack leaned close and kissed him, just light. After a moment, one of Robby's hands curled around his neck, Robby relaxing into it, kissing back.
Jack pulled out of it, nuzzling him a little. "I need you to stop trying to protect yourself here."
Robby swallowed hard, his eyes so full. "It's a lot."
Jack dug his fingers into Robby's beard, making him feel it. "Robby, don't you get it? You can have what you want."
Robby's expression kind of shuttered, his brow furrowing as he looked down. "I just. I didn't expect it."
Jack sighed. "I've watched you struggle, since Adamson. And I hate the idea that I added to it."
Robby looked back up at that, shaking his head. "You didn't."
Jack shot him a bullshit look. "Come on."
"It wasn't like that. I didn't go home and cry into my pillow every night. You were a good thing. The one good thing," he added, softer.
"I wish you would've said something."
"Now that's a terrible idea," Robby shot back, frank.
Jack gestured between their bodies, naked and pressed together. "Really?"
"Think about it. You said it yourself, you would've said you're entirely straight. What would you have done if I'd come to you and said, I don't know, I value our friendship so much, but for me it's more than that."
Jack tensed slightly, already seeing where this was going.
Robby seemed to read it. "It's fine," he reassured. "We both know you would've done the kind thing when someone has a hopeless crush: give them space. You would've vanished on me. And I didn't want that. It's not like I was holding out hope. When I met you, you were married, for fuck's sake. I knew the deal."
Jack stared at him, unable to fathom this. "So you were what? Just gonna spend the next forty years silently in love with me and never say anything?"
"There are worse things." His expression went a little sad. "A lot of worse things. And this way, I got the joy, too."
Jack ached for him, Robby accepting what he could get, resolved to never try for more. Even as part of him rejected it. "I get that," he said, rough, "but this is also what you do. You put up these walls, keep a little distance. And I would've liked the chance to surprise both of us."
Robby's expression flickered, like that landed, but he shrugged. "Like I said, I wasn't holding out any hope. There was no point blowing everything up for no possible upside."
Jack sighed. "And now?" he asked, running a light hand down his arm, tracing the tattoo there, something Latin.
Robby's eyes fluttered closed, like this touch was something he'd dreamed of. But his forehead still crinkled. He opened his eyes to look at Jack, somehow still sad, expecting nothing. "Depends on you, I guess. What you want."
"Man, we are naked in my bed right now, what the fuck."
Robby shot him a look. "You don't say," he drawled, because he could be a dick sometimes, too. "That's not—it's kid stuff. I'm talking about life."
God, give him strength with this impossible man. And Jack didn't even believe in any of that shit. "I'll ignore that you just described our first time as 'kid stuff,' because I'm generous like that, and that you're still protecting yourself even in the face of getting what you want and just say this: I love you. That was true before yesterday and it'll be true tomorrow. This is a new dimension," he said, gesturing between their bodies, "but at this point in my life I never expected anything new and the fact that I got it is fuckin' beautiful," he said, his voice going oddly thick, despite his efforts. But he forged ahead: "And you know what? I deserve it. After everything I lost and everything I give, I deserve this. So do you. So just, knock it off with this strong leader thing and let me be in it with you."
Robby stared at him like he didn't even know who he was, his face just collapsing in on itself. "Fuck," he bit out, scrubbing over his eyes. He covered his face for a moment, just breathing in, a deep breath, like he needed to steel himself.
Then he dropped his hand and met Jack's gaze, his eyes watery. "I'm sorry. I just—I don't know how I'm still fucking this up. I wish I wasn't such a mess—"
"Hey," Jack interrupted, forestalling that.
Robby nodded the point, his eyes gone imploring. "But I am in it, okay? I want it. I'll take whatever you can give and try—I'll try to believe I deserve it, though I don't think I'm there yet, warning you now."
Jack just tipped his head, accepting, because it was a big deal for Robby to even admit that, something that warmed him dangerously. "I'll believe it for both of us until you get there," he offered, soft.
Robby stared at him, a quiet kind of happiness warring with the disbelief that was still all over his face. "How are you so fucking calm? You've never thought about this shit before yesterday while I've known for years and yet I'm the basket case?"
"Crisis is where I thrive," Jack intoned, letting his lips quirk up.
Robby huffed a laugh, wiping at his eyes. "Yeah. Lucky me." Something genuine and heartbreaking in that.
"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get into some stupid thing about what kind of bread to buy in a month and I'll have a total meltdown. It'll be fun."
Robby smiled again, softer this time. "Looking forward to it." And from the way he said it, he really was, like the idea of petty domestic arguments was the greatest thing in the world.
Jack marveled a little. "Man, I am so fucking glad those assholes tried to shoot up the ED. I kind of want to write them a thank you letter."
"Please don't write a letter to the attempted murderers your testimony will put in jail," Robby said, even.
"You make a compelling argument," Jack allowed with a sly grin. Then he sobered. "You get what I'm saying, right? That was an inflection point. It spun us off in a new direction. If that hadn't happened, you would've stayed the course."
"Yeah," Robby said, the acknowledgment of that heavy in his voice. "This is better," he offered.
"Yes, communicating what you want makes things better," Jack agreed, light. "Amazing how that works."
"Yeah, yeah. I promise I'll talk about it with my therapist," Robby said with a kind of sheepish look.
"What every boy lives to hear," Jack said, kissing him soundly. Positive reinforcement and all that.
Robby kissed him back, the happiness really taking hold now, lighting him up. A teasing glint appeared as he traced over Jack's jaw. "I'll do that while you handle all the new wayward crushes on the badass Dr. Abbot."
Jack brightened. He loved messing with the kids and their flights of romantic fancy. "Really?"
"Really. There was fawning. You were very...impressive."
And that was even better because that was Robby. Jack made a delighted noise and pushed Robby back.
Robby smiled and rolled, splayed out flat on the bed and watching as Jack straddled him, his smile crinkling the lines around his eyes. Jack traced teasing fingers over his chest, preening a little. "So what I'm hearing is that I was so insanely hot that you couldn't keep pretending."
"Mostly it was the fear for your life—"
"But also me being insanely hot," Jack concluded, eyeing him, knowing.
Robby smiled again, like he couldn't help himself. "Yes, Jack, I was powerless to resist you going full badass. Which I am fine admitting because I made you switch teams," he drawled, that little sparkle of Robby arrogance coming out. Jack loved that side of Robby.
He grinned, then leaned down to hover his lips over Robby's. "We change together then."
Robby's smile went soft. He leaned up for the kiss. "Yeah, Jack. Together."
***
Fin. Feedback is adored.