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Jack rushed in with his trauma patient, stabilizing him with Robby in Trauma 2, the two of them working in concert, crouched over on either side of the patient, smooth and controlled. Despite the stress, that was always satisfying, their easy back-and-forth, reading each other's minds, anticipating next moves. They didn't get to do it so much anymore.
After, Robby got pulled to his other cases, but Jack wasn't on today, so he could go chart at central in peace. If something popped off, they could grab him, but the fatigues were a pretty clear sign that he wasn't supposed to be here. He'd ride that for as long as he could.
Dana seemed to be having a day, tutting over a nurse who looked about twelve years old, managing phones ringing off the hook, her energy annoyed. She'd picked a hell of a time to try and quit smoking.
When she'd dispatched everyone to do their jobs, and it was just the two of them at central, Jack tossed her a look, knowing she'd clock it even as she reviewed test results on an iPad. "You good?"
"Westbridge code black nuking my whole schedule," she said, cutting, setting the iPad on a charging station just a shade too hard. That was true, but also not what was bothering her.
Jack turned to regard her, giving her his attention now. Because if she was avoiding, this was something. "You're on top of it."
She looked over at him, pulling her glasses off, eyes flinty. "Who you talking to?"
Jack flashed an appreciative smile. "The best in the business," he said, meaning it. "What's up?"
She blew out a breath, a few strands of hair flying out of her eyes, and stepped closer. She hooked her glasses in her scrub shirt, relenting. "You wouldn't believe what Hastings dropped today," she said, lowering her voice just in case. No one was around at the moment, but Dana was careful like that.
He frowned. Hastings was Robby's latest distraction. Jack had warned him ages ago about chasing tail at work, not that Robby ever listened. "Oh, yeah?"
Dana shot him a meaningful look. "She up and says to me that Robby can't stand to be alone, has got the TV on in his bedroom all night."
Jack scoffed. "No, he doesn't."
Dana stilled, her blue eyes locking onto his. And just like that, it went from an idle comment to a moment. A moment that expanded, curling into something weighty, settling leaden in Jack's gut. "That right?" she muttered, and there was a whole epic journey packed into those two words, going from how would you know all the way to how did I not know.
Fuck.
Jack stared at her, completely lost. She hadn't known? How the fuck was that possible? She knew Robby better than anyone. And they'd had their thing for years now. Jack had just assumed she knew and never talked about it because he and Robby kept it away from the job, like good little boys. The fact that this was news...huh. Robby had been better at keeping shit under wraps than he'd thought. But hell, he'd already blown it, might as well commit. "Yeah," he confirmed, lifting his chin.
"Maybe the TV's a recent thing," Dana said, eyes narrowing, a little test.
Jack thought back to two days ago, when their days off had lined up and he'd gone to Robby's to "watch the game." They hadn't even turned on the TV, Robby too busy moaning as Jack tonguefucked him into incoherence, then followed it up by pounding him into the mattress, until Robby had to muffle his grunts against the fitted sheet, growling low in his chest every time Jack nailed his prostate. When Jack released the cock ring and finally stroked Robby off, he'd actually mewled. Then he'd collapsed into sleep, until Jack woke to hazy morning light, a silky mouth around his cock, and wide dark eyes looking up at him, returning the favor. It was a good night.
He banished the memory, if only because he couldn't afford to get hard in the middle of the ED.
"Can't be that recent," he drawled, because he wasn't a man who did things by halves.
Dana actually blinked. "Uh-huh," she said, like she was rearranging puzzle pieces into a revelation. It turned into another moment, the silence going loud, a hint of accusation in it. How could you let it get this far?
"Uh-huh," he shot back in the way that meant, you fucking know Robby.
"Yeah," she agreed, dark, nodding a little.
And like that—revelation over, Dana willing to move on from it, though Jack suspected they'd get back to it eventually.
"You just pissed that she's talking out of school?" Jack asked, because it was shitty for Hastings to be saying anything about Robby's bedroom activities, even to those closest to him. He hadn't thought Dana and Hastings had that relationship, but then, they went way back. He didn't know the particulars.
"Wouldn't you be?" she shot back, disapproving. But that was a deflection; she wasn't saying something.
"Sure, but I don't shit where I eat."
"Don't you," she said, mock-light, raising a pointed eyebrow at him, one that asked if he'd somehow forgotten the conversation they were still having.
Jack made a face. "Not like Robby does. And as proof." He gestured to her and her previous ignorance, expecting that she'd get it.
She did. "Yeah," she nodded, short. Then she sighed. "It got me thinking, is all. Can't be alone with his thoughts. Tomcatting around."
Typical PTSD symptoms, which Jack well knew. And yeah, Robby absolutely had covid PTSD, a fact he was dodging like avoidance was an Olympic sport and he had gold in his eyes. But acting like he needed the TV to sleep? That was something else. "It's not that."
Dana tilted her head, studying him. "You don't think?" She was more uncertain on that, like she really worried.
Jack shot her a reassuring look. "I'm the first to say he needs to be in treatment. This? Isn't that."
Dana's expression smoothed out. She rocked back on her heels. "Well, you'd know best," she said, a little acidic.
Jack revised his assumptions. They'd probably be talking about his thing with Robby sooner rather than later. Fun.
But it wouldn't be today. So he just tipped his head in respect. "Thanks for the intel."
"You'll understand if I don't say the same," she shot back, a little pissy, like learning about them really hadn't been on her bingo card.
Jack grinned and splayed his hands. "The cost of caring."
***
Later, after the rush of traumas had calmed, the patients stable and waiting on tests, Jack found Robby at central. "Talk to you?" Jack asked, light, but he put the expectation in his look.
Robby's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
Jack took the yes and ambled out the ambulance entrance, keeping his posture loose and easy for anyone else watching. No big thing here. Just two guys having a chat.
"What's up?" Robby asked as soon as they got far enough from the smokers on break outside, going on the attack.
Twitchy today, interesting.
Jack smirked at him and went right at it. "Apparently Hastings told Dana that you sleep with the TV on."
Robby's face went slack, like he hadn't expected that at all. A cascade of emotions raced over his expression—disbelief at the subject, stung by his personal shit getting out, maybe even some surprise that Jack knew about Hastings. Which was a little insulting, actually. They never talked about it, but Jack had eyes. Just as quickly as he reacted, Robby blanked his expression. "She said that?" he asked, tone neutral, an evasion. Biding his time, maybe.
"It got Dana thinking you're all PTSDed out, can't be alone with your thoughts."
Robby huffed, arrogant and bitchy and difficult, all the things Jack hated that he loved so much. Then his eyes narrowed as he focused in on Jack, knowing. "But you don't think that."
Jack leveled him with an unimpressed look. "Leaving the TV on to get your little fling to leave, Robby? Really?"
Robby's lips twitched, doing a kind of half shrug. "It works." Jack marveled at how he wasn't even a little ashamed of himself.
He wished he didn't find that so hot.
"You get that it's fucked up, right?" he asked, just to be sure.
Robby rolled his shoulders, looking around the ambulance bay. "She knows it's casual. Non-exclusive," he added, looking back to Jack, pointed, before looking away again. "Spending the night blurs the lines."
"So you say you don't do the staying over thing," Jack argued because that was what adults did.
"Yeah, but that makes people feel bad."
Jack laughed aloud, amazed. "And duplicity is better?"
Robby was still mild and unbothered, taking in the milling smokers, ticking off his reasoning: "Everyone saves face, no one feels bad—"
"And you don't have to have a hard conversation," Jack finished, putting some knowing into it. Because god forbid.
Robby's eyes flicked to his. "Why bother when it doesn't matter?"
The cool calculation was a little breathtaking, actually. Robby was so very mechanical about his flings, seeking the trappings of intimacy, with no actual threat of being known.
Jack just shook his head. "Well, congrats, now they're both thinking you're some basket case."
Robby shrugged again. "Eh. I'm gone tonight."
"Yeah, you timed it perfectly. Like clockwork." Because he'd taken up with Hastings exactly 7 weeks ago, like he'd put a reminder in his calendar to waste one last woman's time before he bounced.
Robby focused in on him for a long moment, interested. "You mad?"
"Oh, that's cute," he shot back.
"And that's an evasion," Robby said, mild, the lines around his eyes deepening as he studied Jack.
Jack made an amused noise. "Well, I learned from the best."
Robby tipped his head. "So. Mad," he decided.
Jack studied him. "Do you want me to be?" Because that was interesting; that would put a new spin on things.
"You're the one who's all in on communicating your feelings," Robby said, the dick. "I'm just getting a bead on what they are."
Which, fair. Though Robby was riding avoidance, Jack had learned that was a road to nowhere. So he answered honestly. "Brother, I'm not mad. I'm marveling that you're still doing this," he said, letting his exasperation shine through. Because Robby could run run run, like he always did, but it wouldn't change things. He could fuck his way through all the women of Pittsburgh and it still wouldn't change a damn thing.
Robby jutted his chin out, a shade defiant. "I can't have fun?" he asked after a moment, both about Hastings, and the others, but the bike, too. An argument they'd had.
"Is it fun," Jack drawled, not a question.
"More than this conversation."
"Now that I believe," Jack deadpanned.
It made Robby flash a tired smile, his expression lightening for an instant, offering a glimpse of the man Jack used to know, charming and bright, many years ago now. "Look, I know you think I'm running away from my problems. And part of me is," he said, a little halting, looking down to where he scuffed his shoe against the ground.
Jack felt his eyebrows rise. Robby had never admitted that before.
"But it's not all of it. I think I need to be away to see who I am, away," he said slowly, like he was feeling his way through it. "And yeah, I'm fucked up. You've woken me from the nightmares. Obviously." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, sighing. "I just—I need to try something different."
Jack considered, drinking in Robby's profile as he continued to study the ground. If Robby needed to check that box, to prove to himself that living without the stress of the job didn't fix things, then fair enough. Sometimes you had to live it to believe it.
So he just nodded and bumped a light fist against Robby's arm, over his Amor Fati tattoo. Love your fate. "I'll be here when you get back."
Robby finally looked up and met his eyes, warm brown watching him with such easy affection. "You always are." He said it with a surprised kind of pleasure, like he knew that and still couldn't quite believe it.
Jack let his lips quirk up. For all the frustration of this man, they were forever pulled toward the other, magnets clicking together across space and time. A connection so foundational, Jack couldn't even resent it. Because how could you resent your own heart?
"Count on it."
***
Fin. Feedback is adored.