Work Text:
Incubation
It had been a very weird couple of weeks for Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Not because anything had happened in the Pitt that was worth being called ‘weird’, but because something happened to ‘him’ that was much weirder than… anything yet. A quiet onset of inner turmoil that out-turmoiled the rest of his problems by far. That, just because unlike the other things, this one was imminent, all-encompassing and certainly overbearing in the worst of the worst moments.
Like today, for example, when the afternoon had almost ended, and yet Robby was still on his feet, starting hour sixteen because they couldn’t get a hold of Shen. Now, he had no problem staying behind. Working overtime was in the job description of Chief Attending Physician ER-cowboy, after all. But with the staff stretched to their limit and his mind racing, not knowing why the night shift attending didn't come to work did nothing to ease his worries.
In the end, it turned out to be ‘Overslept, woke up with a head the size of Texas, sorry peeps’. Great.
“Lena? Call Jack; I’m sure he’d be happy to fill in.” Robby had called out, pushing up his glasses from his nose to the top of his head and looking over at the night shift charge nurse. He blinked in surprise when he saw her with the phone already up to her ear, greeting the vet and asking if he could cover.
The smile on her face easily made its way onto his as well. No matter how long a shift lasted, he would always return a smile to a beautiful nurse who could kick his ass with ease.
Also, it never failed to settle his frayed nerves in times like this, when he was reminded of the fact that he could count on his little family in here. As long as they all held together - and Robby kept on kicking Gloria’s ass - they’d be fine. Surely.
If he’d had time to check the clock, he would have known fifteen minutes had passed until a well-known hand struck his back, a heavy warmth that tightened Robby’s shoulders on impact. There was the issue.
The problem.
He couldn’t relax under the touch anymore. Instead of relaxing and resting his weary heart at the touch, he tensed up, locked his shoulders, which prevented him from exhaling the way he used to.
Shit.
“Came as soon as I could, brother.” Abbot said, patting Robby’s back a couple of times before easily leaning against the counter Robby had been charting on. Looking up at the night-shift attending, Robby could feel some sense of jealousy just looking at the man. How alert and awake and collected Jack looked compared to his own disheveled self. So Robby merely mustered a tired smile in response. “Come on, Robby, fill me in so that you can go home and catch some sleep.”
Exhaling, Robby once again pushed his round glasses up and onto his head, rubbing his eyes to at least seem a little more awake than he was. It also served as a moment of brief peace and silence before he started looking around to begin the handover. Of the most important cases at least. “Aaaaahm… Trauma 1 is empty right now. Trauma 2 has a COPD with a POLST. Family is with him. Declining everything, so it’s really just a waiting party. We need to wait until he’s a little more stable to get him into a room.”
Jack nodded his head, looking up to get a visual through the glass doors, checking the doctors involved in the trauma while cautiously looking at the vitals and charts. “Got it.”
“What else-” Robby stretched a little. “N3: Torres. Admitted for pneumonia 36 hours ago. Boarder for now. Asked Dana for pudding seventeen times today. She kept count. Might be worth keeping an eye on.”
“Seventeen?” Jack snorted, with a shake of his head. “Absolutely monitoring that one. Pneumonia now, hyperglycemia and dumping syndrome later.” Alert hazel eyes watched Robby crack a tired smile, even if he immediately averted his gaze.
Dealing with Abbott's intense eye contact wasn’t what he needed right now. “Lastly…” He still didn’t look up, running a hand through his hair, almost kicking his glasses off, resting them on the counter instead. “S16, Mrs Chen. 52-year-old female with the chief complaint of ‘imminent death’.”
When Robby lifted his gaze, he saw Abbot's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Most likely due to ‘imminent death’ being this low on the handover-list. With that expression on Jack’s face, Robby knew it would at least turn out to be an enjoyable handover. With a good last moment for him to just relax into the end of the shift.
“Vitals stable, labs unremarkable, EKG normal. She’s convinced she has a brain tumour because she sneezed twice this morning.”
Jack chuckled. “Well… at least she didn’t sneeze three times, right?” A brief pause, and he continued. “What’d you give her for the sneezes?”
“Full workup, of course.” Robby continued, scratching his beard as he spoke. “CT, surprisingly negative too. Soooo, 1000mg of cyanocobalamin should’ve solved her problems.”
Now that ripped a rough, genuine laugh from Jack’s chest, and Robby’s heart jumped into his throat in excitement. Fuck, he loved that sound. Not an unusual one, although Jack wasn’t an inherently loud man regarding humor. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d heard him laugh, and yet Robby felt this indescribable pride rush through his veins at having caused the small, tiny belly laugh. “B12. Of course. Good one, Robby.”
There it was; the smallest smile known to humankind settling on Robby’s lips as he nodded as if he was trying to find something else to say. Somehow his head felt oddly empty, buzzing slightly despite no thoughts being found in it. Probably something to do with how exhausted he was from the shift. He wasn’t getting younger and honestly… he started feeling that.
Though it was almost concerning how there really wasn’t anything running through his head apart from making Jack laugh and hearing the man tell him he did a good job. That rarely happened. His head never turned up empty, save for two or three thoughts. It tended to burst from the amount of worries and concerns and shame and guilt and… right now? Nothing but the echo of Jack's words and that laugh going straight through his bones.
“Yep.” Robby cleared his throat and looked away once more, purposefully using the moment to move the glasses from the desk to the little pocket in his shirt. “Should be right as rain in no time. I’d say discharge in an hour or so, let the placebo settle in first.”
Again, Robby rubbed his eyes, feeling like they were strained, too dry to work, and though he could have gotten drops, he’d almost feel silly about using them. He just needed a little sleep, and that would have been all right.
Robby didn’t see Jack’s expression, but he’d seen the smirk matching that slight snort reaching his ears a hundred times. Although when he looked up again, blinking the haziness away that’d begun covering his field of view ever since Jack appeared, he saw that the expression on Abbot's face was just a little shy of something that could’ve been called concern.
Not that Robby wasn’t used to being looked at like that either.
“You good, brother?” Alright, not just a smudge of concern, but enough to talk about it. Robby could feel the sentiment drip from those words, and it reminded him a little too much of the way Jack talked him off the edge so very many times. The only difference? He wasn’t standing at an edge right now. Instead, he was standing in front of an enormous wall he’d built himself and didn’t know how to conquer.
Robby fumbled with his words a little, unsure how to push the topic away, and physically waved it off. “Yeah- Just… a long shift. Hour sixteen and all. You know how it is. Not getting any younger.”
Once more, Jack’s hand landed on Robby’s shoulder, but this time not for a slap or two, but for a tight, grounding hold. The weight lingered even longer after the touch was over, burning itself through his thin fleece jacket right into his skin, making it hard for him to suppress the need to roll his shoulders.
“Go get some sleep, man.”
And Robby should. He needed the sleep, not just to rest his body, but also to calm his mind and somehow get to undoing this problem he’d been struck with. Unfortunately, fate had a different evening for him as Lena’s voice cut through their conversation and his thoughts, making both men whip their heads around. “26-year-old male, superior left lateral deep stab wound. Vitals dropping, ETA 2 minutes.” She repeated the EMS’s early call-in, gaze aimed at Jack.
Without an ounce of hesitation, the night shift attending jumped into action, falling into the rhythm of trauma preparation. Robby watched him wordlessly toss his bag to their feet and turn to pull the regular team into Trauma 1, prepping the room for the chest trauma.
Despite being off-shift now that Jack was here, they’d handed over and Robby was free to leave, knowing his ED was in the best hands possible, he couldn’t help but stay behind.
Following Jack and falling into the work alongside his fellow attending almost felt too easy. Despite their alternating shifts making it quite rare for them to work together, they easily slotted into an all-familiar rhythm. Calm, methodical and efficient. Like two planets orbiting one another without ever colliding. Once the trauma arrived, however, Robby stepped back to the wall of the room, giving both the students and doctors the space they needed to work on the patient.
Just as too many cooks spoil the broth, there also was a clear rule of one person running a trauma in order to have the line of decision free of confusion. With how exhausted he was, Robby didn’t want to interfere and hold anyone back either. As much as he could push through if necessary, he had learned years ago that stepping back when possible was sometimes the best way forward.
He had to say that it was a fantastic excuse to just watch the man in front of him. The man who was the embodiment of Robby’s inner wall of turmoil. Jack’s hands were controlled, not one move too much; not a single bit of energy unnecessarily expended. Deep hazel eyes focused on the body in front of them, while Robby’s warm brown ones were stuck on Jack.
He watched the way he worked the trauma as if it were second nature.
He watched the way that man moved around, stepping in, aside and back whenever needed to.
All, while the ghost of Jack’s hand on his shoulder remained, weighing down on him and almost settling Robby into a calm state of mind. Watching Jack, he didn’t even notice how his own hand made its way to his shoulder, right onto that tingling spot, skin sliding under fabric, where Robby could touch that spot. As if touching it would stop the warmth rushing down his spine or help him figure out what to do with this stupid situation.
This was such an unexpected scenario for him. Yes, he’s had crushes in the workplace before; he’s dated people working around or in the Pitt. Yes, it had been nice and a distraction from the general suffering of being an ER-cowboy but this right here? This was different. This felt like nothing he’s ever felt before.
Much less so about a man. That was unheard of for him.
Not- Not bad.
New and confusing, but mostly, the reason he was feeling a little overwhelmed about it all wasn’t the fact that he felt this way about a man, but that it had to be Jack Abbot.
The man he’d known for half his life. The man he’d called a dear friend for at least the past decade.
The man he knew was into both men and women, and yet had never once made a move on him.
Sure, maybe that had been because Robby had very openly been into women alone, not into men. But most likely, the reason would be Jack not being interested in an old, semi-suicidal man who preferred burying his feelings over talking about them.
And for more than a damn decade it had been fine. Without a question.
So why did it bother him so much now? Today and the day before and every day ever since he’d caught sight of Abbot changing in the locker room, smiling at him with an expression that was one of fond pride over a very well-worked shift. How could that have caused his heart to try jumping out of his chest, his stomach feeling all fluttery, and his head to think about what it would feel like to feel those lips on his own?
Robby.
And more importantly, what was he supposed to do about it?! Every touch that had previously been a gently platonic encouragement, grounding, or teasing had turned his insides to liquid and set his skin on fire? He’d already caught himself staring at Abbot across the ER several times during shift-change, missing crucial interactions with patients or his staff members.
He was supposed to stay focused and controlled, keep his head clear of any distractions that could disrupt his work and harm his patients.
Yet here he was, standing in a trauma bay, incapable of focusing on the things at hand, because the only thing he was concerned about was reminiscing in the touch of that hand and hoping that he’d get more touches like that.
“Robby.”
The attending snapped back into reality and his gaze, which had been both unfocused and miles away, cleared and revealed a face right in front of his own. There they were again. Hazel eyes that stared right into his soul, making hazy brown ones widen in surprise at the proximity that let him see the grey spots in Jack’s irises. Fuck. Why was he so close?! “Brother, you seriously need to go home right now. You’re scaring the residents.” Jack's voice rang out, his tone a mixture of that dry humor and tons of ridiculous worry.
Only now did Robby notice the warmth of large hands on his face. Jack was cupping it with his, keeping his head angled right at him. The moment that realization settled, Robby could feel his face burn, a pink flush spreading down his chest and up to the tips of his ears. He jerked back as if he’d been burned - which wasn’t all wrong considering his face felt like it had been set on fire - since he’d not just been caught slacking but also needed to get out of the physical contact he had with Jack. His skin was tingling, heart rate spiking, and his breath hitching. Like a fucking teenager.
“Already gone,” was his reply as he turned without a goodbye, pushed the doors of the trauma bay open and headed straight for his backpack by the nurses' station. He could feel eyes on him as he shouldered his bag and wished everybody around the HUB a ‘good night’ before rushing out the ambulance bay to where his bike was parked.
Well aware that he shouldn’t start the ride home until his head stopped spinning and his heart rate slowed, he settled onto the seat of his motorcycle and let the fresh, chilly night air do its thing.
He pulled out his phone in an attempt to create an alibi for onlookers as to why he wasn’t leaving, while his mind kept racing on.
He was so fucked. This was Jack. Jack. War veteran, widower, night shift attending. His friend, whom he looked at like a damn horny teenager, worrying about why he wouldn’t touch him whilst running a trauma.
It was so obvious that the man wasn’t interested in him, it could almost count as pathetic. Jack was his friend. What the hell was he doing here?!
Acute Presentation
Days passed.
Though they didn’t fly by, rather having blended together like a stick stew, leaving Robby strung out over nothing. He hadn’t had this little sleep ever since the week after the PittFest incident and was almost more tense and distracted during his shifts. His thoughts were wandering, gaze drifting off and patience wearing thin.
Now all of those things didn’t even consider how he behaved around shift changes. He was ducking around Jack like a madman, trying to minimize overlap as much as possible, handing off to Lena more often than not and leaving early whenever possible. Anything to get his ass out of reach before he could even lay eyes on the man that had taken permanent residency in his head.
Robby ensured he read the shift-plans meticulously to time his departures, even using traumas to duck around Jack whenever he could. He used all his experience as escaping Gloria to avoid Abbot, which had been quite the training for this. Which felt wrong, because one of these people he very much disliked and the other… well.
Ultimately, Robby didn’t even do it not to see Jack - oh, he wanted to see that man so badly - but simply to avoid any further embarrassment for either of them until he would overcome this slight lapse in self-control. Once he was over this little crush and had moved on from his desire to feel Jack’s hands, lips, and body all over him… he could go back to normal. Surely.
Right now, Robby sat at his desk, trying to scramble every free minute he had to catch up with his charting. One thing about constantly leaving on time was that he turned out to be seriously behind on his regular tasks and wished he could somehow fill out his charts from home.
Santos had told him about this VPN thing some time ago, but honestly, he didn’t even know where to start with that at home, so he’d simply have to deal with punching his handwritten notes from home into the computer whenever he had the time to take one minute out of his day.
Which barely ever happened. Not when he was the only attending on shift and he couldn’t use Shen, Abbot, or Ellis as a buffer to point to.
Luckily though, right now was one of those rare times in which they had no traumas in dire need of attention - though even thinking about that would certainly change that within moments - and everyone seemed on top of their game. Enough for him to sit and punch in the data at an unusually undisturbed speed.
Unfortunately, his magnificent plan he’d laid out for himself and followed to a tee meant jack shit considering it only worked as far as the person he was avoiding played along. Which was not happening anymore, since Jack had decided against letting Robby come to terms with his huge crush on the man and instead came to ruin his stellar performance.
Robby’s shoulders instinctively pulled up, his heart jumping into his throat in surprise when familiar hands came to slam down on either side of his keyboard. Warmth pressed against his back, and muscular arms caged him in, making it impossible for him to get away. Recognizing the arms, the hands, the smell encircling him, Robby couldn’t even muster a normal reaction. Much less so when Jack’s voice chimed up right by his ear, breath fanning over the shell of his ear.
“Alright, what’s your deal?” The words alone caused his hackles to stand as a frisson of excitement ran down his spine. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Somehow, Robby worked up a snort, forcing his shoulders down as if their position wasn’t making him hyperaware of his racing heart, quickening breath and inability to continue on working. “I’m not avoiding anyone, brother.” he simply said and stared at the screen, trying to recap what he’d written about C11. Which part- had he finished the prescriptions?
“Robby-” The sigh was so deep he could feel the spent air fan against his ear before Jack pulled back, and it took Robby all of his composure not to let out a sound of glee at it. “It’s me, Mike. Talk to me.” Jack continued at the silence and pulled up the nearest chair a little closer to rest on it, while looking at Robby, his eyes filled with nothing but raw expectation.
Casting his gaze over the thick rim of his glasses at Jack beside him, Robby’s lips curled into a smile all on their own. How could he not?! It’s been the first time in a couple of days that he took the time to look at Jack, and so what if his heart fluttered about it?! Even if it undermined the air of ‘I’m fine, really, thanks for worrying’ that he’d been trying to exude, he simply couldn’t help it.
Robby knew there was no point in opening up the discussion on his crippling anxiety. Be it about asking Jack out, admitting his feelings, or any of the other thousand issues running through his head. Even less so about how much he enjoyed the proximity between them. He could already feel himself relax a little more now that Jack was here, by his side, had come so close to touching him-
Maybe there was no problem after all? Maybe he could deal with wanting to feel his hands on his body if it did calm him down? Still, he could never say that out loud. The shame, embarrassment, and fear of potential rejection simply too big to go through with it. Especially not because it was nothing but a fantasy in his head and the moment he said it out loud, it would become real and that would kick start issues even worse than what he was dealing with right now. So no way.
“There is nothing to talk about.” He therefore stated, smiled at Jack and looked back at the computer screen hoping to appease the local night attending to get off his ass about… any topic. He was already on his own ass about it and Robby would fix it. With just a little more time. Just a little more time and control, he could fix it himself.
Surprisingly though, Jack wasn’t all too pleased with that answer. Robby could see him furrow his brows even more and even the gaze in those eyes got more intense and focused on him. “Bullshit.” The harshness of the word wasn’t unheard of, especially not between them and yet it made Robby halt in his tracks and look back over at the man. Now that the eye contact Jack loved more than most things was back, he could see that his gaze didn’t just show worry in there, but also genuine concern. Maybe even frustration. Or hurt.
“Did I do something?”
“What?!” It burst out of him before he could stop himself. Jack was the last person responsible for the previously, accurately named bullshit going on in Robby’s head and therefore was the last person Robby wanted to feel any sort of guilt about.
“No- No.” he insisted. Hell he had avoided Jack to come to terms with his own shit without him needing to be involved or feel any sort of way about it all.
Though maybe there had been the first error in his thinking here. Robby should have adjusted his shifts instead of directly avoiding Jack. Maybe he should have taken some time off to hide the fact that he needed space to come to his senses. Next time maybe.
Although he hoped a next time wasn’t necessary. For now, Michael needed to get Jack to stop looking at him like he’d personally assaulted the poor guy. Or… his own face, considering that stupid worry in that gaze.
“Then what is it, Robinavitch? Because you’re not leaving today without telling me what crawled up your ass lately. I know it might not seem like it, but I genuinely do enjoy our little dances before and after shift. And you’ve been robbing me of them.” Jack huffed while pointing a finger at Robby.
On one hand, he had to thank the man for loosening the palpable tension in the atmosphere a little bit, however, at the same time it just made him feel worse about having fucked up in the first place. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy their little dances and talks, joking and hugs. God, he had looked forward to them, even before his mind had decided on tricking him.
“Just-” Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. “Just drop it, Jack. It’s nothing. Really.”
“How can I drop ‘nothing’, Robby?” The exasperation was palpable. “If it’s nothing, there ain’t anything to drop, brother, and yet I can see it in your eyes. So just fucking talk to me. I’m sorry for whatever it was that I-”
Robby’s voice cut him off, exhausted already just from that little conversation. Now he rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the stiffness in his body so that he could stave off that oncoming shortness of breath until he was out of sight. “You did nothing wrong. That’s the problem.”
It had been the wrong thing to say, the wrong thing to blow up on but fuck he’d been strung so thin and the joy over seeing Jack and having him near had flipped and turned into nothing but pure stress over seeing him and having him near. Robby stood, pushing the little wheely chair back as he locked the computer.
His breathing rate had already increased, and despite having rolled his shoulders and scratching the back of his neck just now, the stiffness would not leave. Therefore, he vowed to come back for charting once he could focus on it again, before clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. To calm him? To calm himself? “It’s fine, brother. Don’t worry about it.”
“Robby! Incoming possible CVA, ETA 2 minutes!” Dana called out to them, looking at him and Robby simply shook his head.
“Off for today. Jack’s got it.” He announced and threw a couple of finger guns at Jack whilst already turning away before he could see his colleague's reaction to it. Before he could see the hurt or confusion or god forbid some kind of understanding wash over that man’s face.
Dana called out behind him, something about the stroke protocol, but he couldn’t understand her voice. Luckily, he’d noticed Jack’s voice responding to it, because the only other thing reaching his ears was unintelligible white noise. His chest was tight, that familiar yet hated pressure building, and he needed air… and space. To be far away from people right now. Especially Jack fucking Abbot.
Despite taking a detour towards the north section, he slipped through his actual goal only moments later: the stairwell door. Not the locker room, where people would see him; not the ambulance bay, where he’d need to think and potentially even work again; not the parking lot, where he’d just end up in more danger than calm, really. No. The roof. The one place in this godforsaken hospital where he could safely breathe with no one watching.
The stairwell was blessedly empty when he pushed the doors open. Robby took two steps at a time rushing up, his legs burning by the third flight and yet, the physical exertion helped. It gave him something to focus on besides the panic clawing its way up his throat.
You did nothing wrong. That’s the problem.
Why the fuck had he said that?! Now it’d been so obvious what was going on and that Jack knew.
Or… was at least going to ask more questions than Robby could ever answer.
Or… and this would be the worst-case scenario: He would start looking at Robby differently, and everything would be ruined, which was precisely what he’d tried to avoid all this time.
The roof door slammed open and the cold air outside hit Robby like a damn wall. February in Pittsburgh. He should’ve grabbed a jacket on his way out. Now it was too late, since the thought of going back down only increased his discomfort tenfold. His hands were shaking. When did they start shaking?
Robby needed to settle in the discomfort as much as he could, crossing his arms in front of his chest to stop his hands from shaking as he dragged to the far edge of the roof and got a better idea. Unwrapping his arms again, he gripped the ice-cold railing hard enough that his knuckles turned white. The metal bit into his skin, shifting his focus to the pain of it instead of staying on the tightness of his chest and the way his lungs didn’t seem to work right.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But he couldn’t. Not properly, at least. Much less so when his brain was running through every scenario of how this could go to shit. Jack would be nice about it. Probably. But that would almost be worse. He would let Robby down so easily, say something about not wanting to ruin what they had, and he’d be right too.
Every shift change in the future would be even worse than what was going on right this second. Every further conversation strained, every accidental touch weird, most non-accidental touches probably removed from existence. In the end, one of them would have to request a transfer and-
Fuck, his chest hurt. Actually hurt so damn much. Tight and wound, making it so hard for him to breathe that he couldn’t do anything more than suck in a ragged, shaky breath.
And even if by some damn miracle, Jack didn’t shut him down immediately, then what? What was he going to do?! Jack had been with men before. Plenty of them from what Robby had heard him say. The man was well aware of what he was doing, what he liked, and how it all worked. And Robby? Robby didn’t know a goddamn thing. He’d be fumbling and awkward and most likely terrible at it. Jack would realize soon enough that Robby wasn’t worth the effort in the first place.
Too much trouble, even.
Because why wouldn’t he be? Jack was a combat medic who’d served overseas, who had lost his leg and kept going. He ran traumas like it was nothing, never complaining and somehow still found it in himself to be kind to people. He even went to therapy to work on himself because it was the right thing to do.
Michael, on the other hand, was just… tired. Burned out. Barely holding it together on a good day. Fifty-four years old and only now realizing a somewhat incredibly important part of himself that he’d seemingly had suppressed all this time.
Now it was too late. He was much too broken. Too much and somehow not enough at the same time.
The railing creaked under his grip and his vision blurred at the edges as little spots of black started creeping in. Some voice in the far back of his head mentioned something about needing to sit down, but his knees were locked, legs not cooperating. His entire body felt so wrong and too tight, as if his skin didn’t fit him anymore.
This is stupid. He was being stupid. Robby just needed to get his shit together and breathe.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think about anything other than how he had ruined everything- everything he had over something that would never happen. Because Jack deserved so much better than whatever mess Robby had slowly turned into over time and-
His knees felt odd. Something hard was pressing against them.
Concrete.
When did that happen? Pressing his forehead against the cold railing that was now on his eye-level, he tried to remember how his lungs used to work before the emotion dared to overrun his remaining bodily functions.
Diagnostic Impression
In all honesty, the day had already started terribly. For some reason, he barely slept; he’d watched TV until some time past 3am incapable of falling asleep. His alarm had gone off, what felt like no more than five minutes later, and he’d been struggling to get up.
Even though the cold shower - there had been no hot water - aided in that regard, the fact that he dropped his tumbler and spilled his hot coffee all over his kitchen floor, did not.
With a headache from too little sleep and too much freshly made coffee in his system, he was already running on what seemed like his last fumes when he started the shift. With that hollow feeling in his stomach, which certainly could be put down as hunger, and his patience strung so thin it was a miracle he didn’t rip someone’s head off. That did not mean, though, that he didn’t snap at the med students or overcorrect small things that normally wouldn’t have bothered him.
In the end, all the small things piling up on him were what got to him, though. Hesitating during a routine procedure as if he’d simply forgotten the next step; failing to order a repeat lab that Dana luckily caught and reminded him of. After that, he started double-checking even the simplest tasks and orders, not trusting himself to do the right thing here anymore. Doubts and worries were clogging his mind like sand in a well-oiled machine.
Once a young woman was brought back for intermittent chest pains, who had already convinced herself, based on several late-night Google searches, that something catastrophic must have been missed, Robby felt even the last bit of patience disappearing into nothingness. He tried to keep it clinical, walking her through the normal EKG, the clean labs, the lack of concerning findings even in her troponin, but she kept on interrupting him, citing studies she’d skipped and forums that warned of physicians dismissing ‘atypical presentations’.
On a normal day, he would have taken it all in, reassured her, redirected her, and explained it all again with no edge. But today was not a normal day. Her insistence on not being reassured despite it all landed a little harder than it should have. Robby’s tone got tense, sharp, and defensive as his irritation bled into it, making the patient bristle and block even more.
In the end, Dana pulled him away, faking a more important case, letting Mohan handle the aftermath of his creation. She told him to step away. Take five.
Get whatever is wrong with you lately out of your damn system.
The timeout was necessary, and that was the worst part of it. Usually, he was stable enough to remove himself from situations once he needed to; however, today wasn’t one of those days. She parked him in the lounge, right on the couch, and gave him a stare that was a simple order, nothing else. Maybe Robby sat there staring at the ceiling for more than the administered five minutes since he needed to process the weight of the situation.
It was affecting him. It was affecting his work. Gravely. He needed to do something.
The end of the shift couldn’t come quickly enough, and once it passed, Robby sat alone in the locker room, replaying every tiny misstep with his head buried in his hands. With the day shift having scrambled to leave as quickly as they could in hopes of not getting yelled at by him. The night shift had already passed through, taking over, while Robby just wallowed in his own self-pity.
Dana was right. He needed to change something, and he knew what, he just didn’t know how.
As if fate had heard him whine about his current situation, a voice cut through the low rumblings of the hospital background and pulled him right out of his spiraling thoughts. It seated him right at the top of a gigantic slide into the fiery pits of his own personal hell.
“Dana said you were having a hell of a shift.”
Funny how a body could have so many reactions to a silly little sentence for so varying reasons. Dana had called Jack?! His hackles raised. Dana had snitched on him having had a shitty shift to the one man he had been clearly avoiding for the past fortnight? His heart dropped.
After all the signs that Robby needed space, Jack still came?! His shoulders sagged and he exhaled in frustration.
Was it all just so that he could suffer further? Even so, after the day he’s had, there was not even an ounce of fight or snappiness left in him. He could barely respond, apart from the exhale and the turn of his head away from Jack. Michael Robinavitch was done with all of this, and if it were up to him, he’d simply go to sleep and never wake up again.
Freeing himself of his stupid mind.
Jack didn’t seem to mind the non-existent answer one bit and instead walked up to Robby’s side and grabbed the man’s jacket, throwing it over his shoulders next. The weight of it around his body, accentuated by the weight of those hands, had his shoulders relax even further.
“Alright then, we’re going out to get a drink. You and me,” he simply said, leaving no room for any arguing on Robby’s part.
Not that he even could in his current state of mind. So he stood and grabbed his backpack from the side, shouldering it. Jack’s response was a light “Attaboy”, a clap on his back, and just like that, warmth spread through his limbs and loosened some of that tightness behind his ribs.
Michael really needed to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him, that a simple touch like that made him so damn fuzzy-headed.
Their local dive bar was frequently visited by PTMC workers. Nurses and doctors of any profession loved to come down and have a drink if the park was already too full to stay in there. When they had entered, the bar had been on the emptier side, but with every passing minute, every empty drink, it seemed to fill up, get louder and more overwhelming.
The noise, the day, and his company had Robby not just drinking more but especially faster than usual, his eyes stuck on the damn glass no matter how often Jack tried to throw a new topic at him. None of them stuck.
At some point, the silence merely stretched when even certified talker Jack Abbot confined himself to the game of waiting until Robby would speak.
When he didn’t, Jack sighed and went in for a final attack, since distraction and fun didn’t seem to cut through the drunken haze in Robby’s head.
“Alright. Easy there, cowboy.” Jack’s hand came down on the bar next to Robby’s glass. Not enough to grab it, but close enough to send the message right through the other's spine. “You planning on showing up to your shift tomorrow, or should I tell Dana you’re calling in dead?”
That tone - Robby knew it a little too well. It was the one Jack used when something was really wrong and he was getting tired of being bullshitted. Usually the tone was aimed at a patient circling the drain but pretending they weren't. Or when the numbers didn't add up. Or... when he'd already decided an intervention was necessary and was waiting for some version of consent to go for it.
Robby let out a short, humorless breath and tipped the rest of his drink back, slamming the glass onto the wooden counter.
“Oh, good. Yeah. That’s exactly what I meant by ‘easy’.” Jack’s voice was as dry as dust when he glared at Robby, clearly having lost all patience for his best friend. When Robby lifted his hand, signaling for another drink, Jack caught him by the wrist and cut him off. “So.” He didn’t use force to keep Robby’s hand on the countertop, but the gesture itself was enough for Robby to behave. “You gonna tell me what this entire thing is about now, or are we doing the thing where you drink yourself stupid and I have to drag your sobbing and whining ass home?”
“I’m fine.” Robby tried again. He simply wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He couldn’t-
“Sure you are. That’s why you’ve had-” Jack glanced at the watch hugging his wrist. “- four drinks in the past forty minutes just to get yet another one. Very fine. Picture of health. Maybe I’ll get Gloria to book you a shooting to be the new and upcoming marketing strategy for the PTMC, hmm?”
“Yeah, well-” There was no way he’d get another drink at all, but at the same time he couldn’t help trying. If only to feel Jack’s grip get harder, pressing his arm down onto the counter, making his heart flutter a little. “Liquid courage and all that.”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up, and there was something sharp in the gaze he graced him with. Not… exactly concerned; more so like a doctor who’d just spotted an interesting symptom that might finally grant the correct diagnosis. “Liquid courage?” He leaned back, his hand still resting on Robby’s wrist even though his head tilted to the side. “Okay, now I’m actually curious. What the fuck do you need liquid courage for? You run a Level One trauma center. You’ve seen things that would make any person want to never leave their home again. So what-” he gestured at the empty glass, almost mockingly. “What’s got Chief Attending Michael Robinavitch drinking like a med student before his goddamn boards?!”
The question hung between them. Much heaving than it should. Robby stared into his empty glass, wishing he had another dose of shiny brown liquid in there to give him an answer to the question at hand. With the sounds in the bar growing louder around them, including laughter bursting from the pool table to their right and the increasing volume of the jukebox on the other side.
It all felt far away, and like he was stuck underwater, his only anchor being a rough hand pressing onto his wrist.
Robby swallowed. Hard.
“You ever-” he stopped and his jaw tightened in response to the stupidity that was surely rushing through his veins. Or maybe it was the whiskey? He tried again. “What’s your type? Like… if you were looking right now. In here.”
Beside him, Jack went still. Not tense, but that same attentiveness that had him wait for a repetition of a symptom on a patient's monitor. It almost made it worse than before, because with the sudden focus on him, Robby only got more scared of what was to come.
“My type?” Jack repeated, a snort leaving him that showed that little bit of amusement too well. “That’s what we’re talking about now? Alright.”
Robby shrugged, aiming for the question to be as casual as he could, and still missing by a mile. “You know. You don’t really talk about it much, but you’ve mentioned being open before. About… men. And women. The whole…” he gestured vaguely, his fingers fumbling through the air, hoping to make up for his lack of words.
Although he still wasn’t looking at Jack, Robby was well aware of the other man’s head leaning in to observe him. His eyes were as sharp as always, piercing gaze right into Robby’s temples. That stupid razor-focus on his face had it heat, but that would be chalked up to the alcohol, right?
"Robby." His tone remained as even as before, even if there was a slight edge to it now. Nothing unkind, but merely a mirror to that focused look. "You want to try that question again? With proper, coherent words this time?"
He missed that fifth drink more and more, wishing for that liquid courage that would burn his throat and distract himself from the rising panic in his chest. Instead, he felt it spread through his limbs, fraying the edges of his nerves even more.
“Just… hypothetically.” He finally forced out, still focused on the empty glass in his hand and the fact that Jack’s hand was still holding on to his wrist. “What if someone here were interested, but they’d never been with a man before?” The second Robby was to give in and look at Jack would be the moment he’d catch on.
“Would that be… would you- would someone like that be…”
It was getting dangerous, because Jack was leaning in now. He was close enough that Robby could feel his breath on the side of his face. Or maybe that was his imagination making his heart jump and the heat from his cheeks travel down to his chest as he waited for some semblance of an answer to that botched question.
“Are we talking purely hypothetically?” Jack’s voice was right there, hot breath fanning over Robby’s ear. “Or are we talking about you? Perchance?”
Silence.
Robby’s gaze dropped to his twitching thumb on the glass, and he couldn’t make himself look up even if he tried. Not only would Jack know what all of this had been about the second he would, but… it would also make it all real.
If he just kept his eyes on the damn glass, then everything would be fine.
A rough thumb brushed against Robby’s whitening knuckles, holding onto the glass as if it would save Robby from the heat blooming in his chest at the damn touch. How come he hadn’t let go yet? Robby… the glass? Or Jack… his wrist?
“Robby.” It wasn’t harsh, but firm enough to slice through the thought-spiral in his head. “Look at me. Come on.”
The request alone had his heart stuttering, especially because it was the one thing he really didn’t want to do. Not without his question having been answered yet. After all, depending on what that answer was going to be, this entire situation could already have gone to absolute shit.
Fuck.
It took quite some effort to comply, but eventually, he did. Sad brown eyes filled with regret and fear looked at Jack. No matter how hard he tried to hide his emotions, his eyes would always betray him either way, revealing the true nature of his feelings. Those beautiful hazel eyes in comparison? They were devoid of any form of judgement only featuring that same leveled, assessing calm with a certain softness around the edges.
“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking…” Jack paused as if he was weighing his words. “That person doesn’t need to have it all figured out. Just needs to stop lying to himself about what he wants.”
His throat tightened at those words, not yet ready to give up the charade when there was so much to gain from it. Protection… Safety… Deflection. “What if he doesn’t know what he’s doing?” Robby’s hand twitched towards that thumb, continuously brushing over his knuckles. “He wouldn’t- He doesn’t know how…” His voice was barely reaching above the noise of the bar.
While Robby was still looking like he was asking Jack permission to jump after all, Jack’s demeanor had changed. His mouth curved; not quite into a smile but something a lot steadier than that.
“Well… hypothetically, that person would just need someone to show him.”
The words landed slow and deliberate, settling comfortably between them while Robby busied himself tasting them and their meaning.
Someone to show him.
Again and again they bounced around his skull as he tried to figure out if Jack was saying- maybe even offering what Robby thought he was, or if - and this was very much a possible explanation too - it’d been the whiskey making him believe things that weren’t real.
Ultimately, assuming anything would surely ring the end upon him, because being incorrect wasn’t a damn option in this case.
“Hypothetically speaking, of course.” Jack easily cut through the haze of thoughts in Robby’s head, making him snap back into reality for the moment. “You know, since we’re still so very careful about choosing our words, right?”
“Right. Hypothetically.” Stubborn and blindsided enough to keep up with the charade and sort of missing how this situation wasn’t just ridiculous, but also so very obvious.
“Robby.”
“Jack.” It was ridiculous. What was he even doing here?! Why did he start that topic?! Why did he-
“Michael.” The hand on his wrist tightened as his attention strayed.
“I don’t-” It had come out before he could stop himself. Before his head could think about intervening in the first place and now that he’d broken the obvious little farce, it couldn’t continue like that. “I don’t know what I’m doing with any of this-”
For a moment, Jack was quiet, studying him with that same unreadable calm that had made him both the exceptional doctor he was and the worst person to hide things from. When he finally let go of Robby’s hand, his hand left behind a burning imprint. The lack of touch. The lack of warmth. The lack of skin to skin contact was astonishingly frustrating, and Robby almost missed the way Jack communicated with their bartender. “Close us out.”
He had to blink. Surprised, overwhelmed with the influx of feelings on him, as well as maybe a tiny bit panicked. “We-”
“We’re done here.” Jack said it matter-of-factly, already pulling out his wallet. Neither his tone nor the gesture in itself showed unkindness or even urgency to get things done. Moreso to give Robby one less thing to overthink. Which, judging by his state of mind, was nothing but kindness. "Unless you actually want another drink?" The tilt in Jack's voice made it clear he already knew the answer. Was Robby genuinely thirsty, or just stalling?
This time around he caught the edge, understood the tilt to it that teetered on the edge of judgement after all. So Robby looked down at his glass, then at Jack, and back at his glass.
“...No.”
“Didn’t think so.” Jack didn’t even wait for the check to come, simply throwing a bunch of bills onto the counter; almost as if he’d been waiting to finally move. Robby felt his thoughts stumble over the gesture once more; especially the intent behind it. Luckily for him, he didn’t get to finish that thought because Jack was already standing, nodding toward the door. “My place is closer.” Stated as a logistical observation. A reasonable medical assessment of the situation. Patient required further evaluation, so seeking out the nearest facility was recommended.
Robby stood from his chair, slightly unsteady on his feet as the alcohol that had sat in his veins now activated like a damn sleeper agent and shot right into his head. When Jack’s hand reached for his arm, keeping him steady, Robby only had time to hate the help for a split second before he didn’t hate it at all.
“We’re-” Robby didn’t pull back, the touch letting a much more enjoyable buzz radiate underneath his skin than the alcohol did. “We’re still acting in the hypothetical here, yes?” Robby muttered, apparently clinging to that damn shield until it fell apart under his fingertips.
When he looked over at Jack, he could see that mouth all curved again. Into a calm, unbothered smile. “Sure we are, brother.”
Therapeutic Intervention
Michael had been to Jack’s place several times over the years. Though, in all fairness, every time he set foot in the man’s condo, it felt like a new experience in itself. There hadn’t been a lot of time between the bar and Jack’s home to calm down and get his head straight about everything. He’d barely had the time to catch his breath and try to avoid looking at Jack, who still wore that smirk on his lips like a damn trophy.
It almost felt like he was enjoying himself, while Robby was trying to comprehend how he had even got into this situation in the first place. High, open ceiling towered above them, and an original hardwood floor welcomed them in the spacey room. Spacey but not empty - much like Michael’s mind in that second - the decor of the place could be described as military neat in a way where every single item seemed to have a designated space. One where it belonged.
The blackout curtains lining the windows were not drawn shut yet, letting in the late-night city lights that cast long shadows across the furniture. A reading lamp by the couch was still on, likely from before Dana had called Jack in. Warm light pooled over the stack of books sitting on the side table underneath it; Michael could see some medical texts, a worn paperback mystery, and something that looked like it could be philosophy.
Until now, Robby had been running on nothing but a mixture of hope and desperation that had somehow won against his nerves and the impending sense of doom threatening his nervous system. When he moved to step further into the living room, unsure of how far he could go or what to do in the first place, it all came crashing down on him.
The click of the front door falling shut made his heart stutter and sent him into a slight pace, up and down the length of the couch, barely making the conscious decision to do so. His hands didn’t know what to do with themselves, so they interlaced fingers and rubbed up and down his nape while his brain was trying to repeatedly make him understand he was here. He was in Jack’s space. Officially. And how there was no more hypothetical left to hide behind.
“Alright then, brother, how about we sit and talk?” Jack moved into the living room behind him, tracking Robby’s agitated movement and when Robby’s eyes snapped to him, Jack’s expression was unreadable; amused maybe, or just patient. “Or I could make you some coffee to further fuel this silly little dance you seem to be ge-”
Robby turned on his heels on the next lap and took the few strides that separated him from Jack before he grabbed the man and kissed him. It was desperate and clumsy, and it was too soft, especially with his hands fisting Jack’s shirt as if his life depended on it. He certainly felt like he’d all but die if he were to let go.
The reaction he earned was a small surprised sound against his mouth before Jack’s hands came up, steady and grounding as their weight settled on Robby’s shoulders. “Okay, okay,” Jack pulled back with a soft huff of laughter, gently steadying Robby. “We’ve got time. I promise I’m not gonna evaporate if you slow down for two seconds.” Hazel eyes, seemingly a dark green in the low light, stared right at him, reading him with ease. “You’re doing the thing again, where you’re overthinking. I can practically hear the gears grinding from where I’m standing.”
With his hands fisting Jack’s shirt so tightly it was a clear sign of desperation, he made himself let go in embarrassment. The second he did, his heart began trying to hammer its way out of his chest, panic rising to spread through his veins. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” The words tasted like failure. Like every fear he’d been trying to outrun for weeks, finally catching up and coming true at once.
If the fact that Jack broke the kiss to stop them, clearly not wanting this, hadn’t been enough, then Robby’s own realization about being so damn clueless about everything sufficed for his mind to reel despite Jack’s comment. What the fuck was he doing here?! Every step he’d taken this entire evening felt like it had been the wrong one, and the confidence he usually exuded was simply gone just looking at that man.
Without his silly comments and humor to cope with the dark spots in his heart, Michael was fully at Jack’s mercy; and Jack wasn’t inclined to offer any, it seemed. His thumb came up to brush along Robby’s jaw, steady and deliberate in the movement, making the muscles there tighten in response. “That’s okay. I do.” Softer now, that rough edge smoothing out as he continued. “Do you trust me?”
What an absolute no-brainer of a question. Michael nodded almost instantly, his face moving underneath the thumb resting on its side. Of course he did. That was the entire problem and solution wrapped up and adorned with a pretty little bow.
“I do.” He repeated Jack’s words at him, and this time the admission was a lot less restraining. Somehow, confirming that he trusted Jack, made the coil in his chest loosen a little.
He trusted Jack, really did. That wasn’t even a question worth asking. The more important one would be whether or not he trusted himself not to ruin whatever this was turning into. They were standing in Jack’s living room, Jack’s hand still on his jaw and there was this tiny, fragile hope that maybe they could actually do this. That maybe tomorrow wouldn’t end up being awkward as fuck. That maybe their friendship could survive this.
Of course, that little bit of hope might just as well be the reason Robby could end up attempting to avoid shift-change for the rest of his natural life. But maybe it would be fine. Right?
“Then how about you just let me take care of you?”
The offer hung between them, emphasized by those gentle hazel eyes resting their gaze right on him. Michael could do that. He could just calm down and let Jack take over. Especially when that hand moved from the side of his face to his neck now, strong fingers brushing over his nape where he’d rubbed his skin not even two minutes ago. The way the touch parted his short salt-and-pepper hair sent shivers down his spine; an entirely normal reaction to an emotional trigger.
The emotional trigger in this case being his mind begging for all of this to be real. For all of this to not just be a whiskey-induced lucid dream that he’d wake up from any moment, even if the sharp night air had sobered him up more than he needed to.
It left him raw in that moment, making him close his eyes, his shoulders dropping at the sensation of that hand finally touching him the way he’d been imagining it for weeks now.
“Hey.” Robby’s eyes snapped open at the sincere tone coming from Jack. “As much as I’d like to think I can read your mind, sweetheart, I need you to tell me if something doesn’t feel right. Anything at all. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His voice bordered on shaky, clearly strained from everything going on in his mind. Stupid haziness that… did not seem to come from the drinks alone.
“Yeah, what, Robby?” Now Jack’s tone had shifted into something amused. “I need you to be specific for me.”
Specifics. He could do that.
“Yes, I trust you.” First things first. Did he confirm that already? He couldn’t remember, but better to be safe than sorry. “I want to let you take care of me and… I’ll tell you.”
“Good boy.”
Robby’s entire body reacted to the easy praise from Jack. Heat bloomed across his chest and shot down, settling heavy and insistently between his legs. His breath caught, fingers digging deeper into Jack’s shirt as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. He knew what was going on, knew exactly what that meant, but the intensity of two simple words from Jack could make him feel like he was coming apart at the seams. That was new. And god he wanted that again.
With things having settled for Jack, Robby felt a pull at the back of his head, and next up were lips on his own. This kiss was slower, much more controlled. Jack was leading Robby through it as if he was teaching him a new way to do a familiar procedure: how to let go; how to stop thinking; how to just feel.
Clinging to Jack’s shirt wasn’t enough anymore; it wasn’t enough to hold him close. The fear of Jack pulling away again, enough for Robby’s arms to wrap around the man’s shoulder and neck, one hand sliding into his hair. No more escaping.
Michael let himself be led, his feet shuffling forward without caring where they were headed, as it didn’t matter. Not when he could just close his eyes and breathe Jack in now. He felt his hot breath fan over his face between kisses, lips so much softer than he had imagined.
Somehow they’d made it to the bedroom. Robby could only remember it in stages.
Jack’s hands were on him the whole time, nonverbally asking if he was fine, if Robby still wanted this by pausing momentarily, letting Robby’s head settle into the situation.
And Robby answered by following. By leaning into every touch, by trying not to think too hard about the fact that he was a 50-year-old-man who had had many, many situation ships and still felt like he was figuring something out most people had learned decades ago.
Once arrived, Jack stepped back, loosening the arms around his neck almost a little too easily. However, the soft noise bubbling in his throat died when Jack pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the side. Of course, Michael had seen Jack without a shirt before- countless times, actually. In a job where getting covered in various bodily fluids could happen at any point, that kind of casual nudity was simply normal. But this? This was different. This was special. He wasn’t just allowed to look; Robby could see in Jack’s eyes that he could even reach out and touch that solid warmth.
“This okay?” Jack whispered, his own fingers playing with the hem of Robby’s shirt next, slowly lifting the fabric to reveal soft skin underneath.
“Hmmm.”
“Not too much?” The hem of that shirt lifted further and Robby willingly aided in having it be pulled over his head before it landed right on top of Jack’s.
“No. No, it’s- good.”
It wasn’t even a lie. This was fine. Standing in front of his handsome, jacked, perfectly shaped best friend while Robby was… soft around the edges at best, was fine.
Even more so when a smile appeared on Jack’s lips right before they made contact with Robby’s jaw. It was all overwhelming in ways the man hadn’t expected. Hell, this was the first time in forever that he actively cared for someone he was hooking up with, beyond the casual ‘hope you don’t die on the way home’.
This time, he was out of his mind with the need of Jack to want this, to be happy, be satisfied, be just- just… being what the man needed him to be.
Not being allowed to think about it any further, his back met the mattress after a solid push, ending that comfortable scrape of stubble against his neck, leaving him wanting more. Brown eyes opened just in time to catch the reason for the dip in the mattress as Jack climbed on top of him, the solid weight of the man, all muscle, and certainty, pressing Robby far into the mattress.
The way he smelled, all fresh and clean, with that undertone of familiar warmth and something that was just Jack alone. The night attending’s hands moved over Robby’s body, leaving behind kisses and touches that tingled, making his skin react with heat and excitement just to settle at his hips, tugging at the waistband of his cargos. “Talk to me, Michael. Still good?”
It should be studied how patiently gentle one person could look at another, because right now, Jack had the softest, most understanding gaze, and it almost broke Robby. He wanted him. Jack wanted him and Michael wanted him just as badly. The sentiment made him a little dizzy from how quickly he nodded his head.
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. More than good, actually.” He confirmed quickly and with little doubt in his mind.
He trusted Jack and the fact alone that the man took his time to hold his hand as he guided him through something Robby should know already, only amplified that feeling. Somehow, simply lying here in his bed, with Jack asking for his consent in every step, made Robby feel so much safer and grounded than he had in a long, long time. A simple baseline that helped in finally taking that step back and letting go. No more than an inch of course, but that sufficed for Abbot to get his grubby hands on him and keep that offered inch in a death-grip with no turning back.
Said death-grip showed in how Jack smiled at the verbal consent. Nothing surprising about a smile, but this one, so small and genuine, caused Robby’s breath to hitch and his ears to turn just a little darker.
Jack’s hands began moving again, working in tandem to open the button and fly on those cargos. When Jack’s fingers hooked into his waistband of both the pants and his boxers, and Robby felt the slight tug that meant they were about to come off - especially the fact that he was about to be naked and completely bare in front of Jack - his breath stuttered and his hand flow out, stopping Jack.
“Pause.” The confirmation of the communicated break came immediately, and the hands were gone from Michael’s waist, one of them coming to hold his hand instead. Strong, calloused fingers intertwined with his, and Jack easily lay beside him, taking the moment to slip off his prosthetic and lay it to the side. The protective liner followed suit, and then Jack’s attention was fully on Robby again.
Robby, who was entirely stumped how to navigate the current situation that was entirely on him. Both the fact that he was lying shirtless in Jack Abbot's bed and the fact that he was still only shirtless. He would have called anyone a fully fleshed-out moron if they denied themselves Jack’s hands just to then lay there and stare at the ceiling like the sky had just split in two.
He twitched a little when Jack moved their intertwined hands to his chest and rested them right atop his racing heart. “You wanna talk about it?” Jack then asked, and his tone left room for answers of any kind. There was no disappointment, no judgement, at most an edge of encouragement to it.
It pulled a stuttery exhale from Robby’s chest, whose gaze remained locked to the barely illuminated ceiling. The darkness made it all a little easier to digest, and yet the heat spreading from his groin didn’t make him feel any less stupid. Or made up for the tightness in his chest that started overwhelming him at an alarmingly fast rate.
The idea of being naked and doing all this had been so much more fun until the thoughts had caught up to him. What if he was making a huge mistake because he was terrible at this? What if Jack realized halfway through that Robby wasn’t worth the effort? What if- god- what if it was good, and it destroyed everything they’ve had at work? Their friendship? The familiar rhythm they’d built over years?!
Hadn’t he had all of these questions haunt him before?!
“Hey.” Again, there was Jack’s voice calling out for him, but this time, he emphasized his speech by gently squeezing their hands together. “I repeat. I can’t look into your head and I would be delighted if you’d let me be part of whatever bullshit you’re cooking up right now.”
Bastard actually pulled a snort from him at that, which only partially loosened the anxiety in his chest. “I still don’t know what to do.” He said, for what felt like the millionth time this evening. “I don’t even know if you actually want this.”
An index finger tapped on his chest, matching Robby’s breathing. Lifting as he inhaled and making contact with his chest when he breathed out. It was bouncing quite a bit, making the attention painfully aware of how erratic his breathing had become the second they paused. “No, you’re right.” Jack said, his finger slowing down, gently guiding Robby into a slower rhythm through it. “Me pulling you out of the bar, bringing you home, kissing you and pushing you onto my bed to get you naked and show you just how good I can make you feel… clearly is a sign that I am being held at gunpoint and don’t actually want this.”
Alright. Putting it like this made it sound as if he was losing his mind. Robby sighed and slapped his free hand over his eyes in a childlike manner of ridding himself of any visual stimuli, which would essentially make him invisible to others. Obviously.
“Jack-”
“Hmmm no-no. I don’t think there is any counterargument. You make a fantastic point, Mike.” He could hear the smirk in Jack’s tone despite not seeing it and it did nothing to ease his shame about the entire situation. “Although!” He hummed in thought, making Robby sneak a peek through the gap between his fingers. “You know… maybe there is one that could prove you wrong.”
“Which would be?” He hated how hopefully he sounded. As if he hadn’t already realized how absolutely moronic the assumption was that Jack still didn’t want this.
“Maybe that I’ve been waiting for this for just about a decade now?” Jack said it so casually, as if he was commenting on the weather or discussing a patient’s vitals. But the words were charged with so much to unpack, they settled into Robby’s chest with more weight than most-likely intended.
Robby’s hand dropped from his eyes now, settling somewhere by his throat when he turned his head to look at Jack in the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains on the window. “What?”
Jack’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, holding that same steady rhythm Robby’s breathing had acclimated to. “You heard me.” A beat of silence. “Wanted to see how good you could be for me. If you’d just let yourself.”
Once more those words sent heat to curl and pool in his stomach, mixing with the anxiety in his chest in a way that made his head spin uncomfortably. “Jack-”
“And now here you are.” Jack shifted even closer until his body hit Robby’s side, and he propped himself up on one elbow so he could look down at the other man. “In my bed. Asking me to show you.” His hand squeezed Robby’s again. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, Robinavitch? How many times I have watched you work yourself into the ground, never asking for help, letting no one take care of you? How often I have thought about what you’d look like if you were to just … let go? Trusted someone else for once? Trusted me?”
Again, Robby’s breath got stuck, caught on nothing but more air as he couldn’t even bring himself to stutter out an answer.
“Sooo yeah.” Jack let go of his hand and let it come up to cup Robby’s jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I want this. I want you. Have for a damn long time and I want to see you let yourself feel good without overthinking it into the ground.”
His gaze was so steady and serious that even if Michael had wanted to fight that statement, he couldn’t bring himself to, because in the end… that was what he wanted too. He wanted to let go of the fear, especially if it was at the hand of Jack. Then he could. He was sure of it.
“Think you can do that for me?”
The question hung in the air again. Part challenge, part reassurance, and entirely devastating because as much as he wanted it, he feared the potential aftermath that would come with it.
So Robby swallowed hard, his heart back to hammering against his chest as if it had forgotten the gentle rhythm Jack had calmed it into. The question shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, if he’d taken the time to think about it. His breath caught - once more - and his chest flushed hot underneath both of his hands now resting there, that coil of anxiety beneath them twisting into something different. A need. “Yeah.” The word came out rough, almost desperate. “Yeah, I can- I can do that.”
There it was again, that slow and warm smile on Jack’s face that had approval written all over it. “I know you can, Michael.” The assertion and confidence dripping from those words sent a thrill down Robby’s spine. “So let me take care of you. Let me show you what beautiful sounds you make when you stop holding back. How easy it is to make you come apart. Want to see if you’re as good as I think you’re going to be.”
Jack moved to sit up again, fingers slipping down and into Robby’s waistband again as he looked right into his warm brown eyes with pupils already dilating at those words. “Can I?”
Somehow, knowing Jack had wanted this for so long made everything a lot easier. Of course, the anxiety was still there, but it had shifted into something manageable. Anticipation threading through the fear, want overpowering the doubt. Jack’s confession had given him something to hold on to. So he nodded at the question, not trusting his voice with this yet.
“Use your words, Michael. I want to hear you.”
“Y-yes.” Definitely not to be trusted anymore. He could barely contain the desperation leaking through the next words. “Yes, please.”
Jack’s hand hooked into Robby’s waistband. “Good boy.”
He pulled as he said it, using his body weight to slide the fabric down his body in one smooth motion and letting cool air hit Robby’s skin the exact moment those words hit his brain. The brain left a haze settling over his mind, soft and slightly disorienting, but the sharpness of the cool air cutting across his overheated skin anchored him just enough to realize how real this was.
He was naked.
In Jack Abbot’s bed. Exposed and hard, and completely vulnerable.
And yet, Jack was looking at him as if he was something worth looking at. As if the softness around his sides and those years and years of stress and emotional terror written across his body didn’t matter at all. As if he was exactly what Jack wanted.
“You alright?” It wasn’t a surprising question in and of itself, and yet, with Jack’s hands pausing on Robby’s hips, thumbs pressing firm circles into the sensitive flesh there, it made him gasp slightly. Every touch, no matter of which kind, wasn’t just gentle but also a means of grounding him, keeping his head right here with his partner. If- if he could even call him that.
“‘M okay-” he confirmed, having internalised the clear rule telling him to use his words instead of nonverbal gestures.
"Quick learner," Jack hummed, satisfaction and something warmer coloring his voice as his smile widened visibly. "Gonna be so good for me, aren't you?" Again, that feeling in his chest spread outwards, making his spine tingle and his cock bounce ever so lightly. With one hand slipping from Robby’s waist, Jack positioned himself on top of Robby again.
That gorgeous smile closed in until Michael was holding his breath, too scared to do anything that would potentially stop what was about to happen. But Jack didn’t seem to mind his panic, still going in for the kiss. The slow and deep kiss did wonders to distract Robby from all those thoughts in his head. He let out a shaky breath that turned into a moan halfway through, his hand coming up to thread through Jack's salt-and-pepper hair and pull him closer.
He didn’t think twice about introducing his tongue now so that he could taste Jack for the very first time. Jack’s low chuckle rumbled against his lips, warm and approving, and only deepened the kiss. Not in a rougher or even demanding way, but with that same tender claim that made Robby feel like they had all the time in the world. When Jack’s second hand came up to cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone, holding him in place, he never wanted this moment to end.
With his face now held in place, Jack broke the kiss and moved his mouth. It left Robby panting heavily, his head dizzy and slightly overwhelmed, cheeks flushed and lips burning from the contact. Attempting to turn his head to rekindle the little kiss caused Jack to click his tongue at him in gentle disapproval. Instead, he kissed his way down Robby’s jaw to his throat and the scrape of rough stubble against sensitive skin was such a new sensation, it didn’t just make his entire body jolt, but also made his hips buck into the air.
“Fuck-” Michael breathed, trying so hard to keep his composure here, even when every single thing Jack did only sent further waves of heat and electricity through his tense body. The hand buried in Jack’s hair had slid down to the back of his neck now, while Robby’s free one found the other’s strong back, resting semi-comfortably on that skin, trying to keep the man as close as he could.
In response, a low hum vibrated against Robby’s throat, the feeling traveling straight down his spine. “That a sensitive spot there?” Jack asked, hot breath fanning over the skin he’d spoken again, right before he let his teeth graze that same spot, making Robby’s nails dig into the poor man’s skin.
“Yeah- yeah, that’s-” The words died in his mouth, replaced by a loud cry when Jack bit down on his skin, followed immediately by a hot, wet tongue soothing that sting away with so much care. The nails previously dug into Jack’s skin were now dragged, certainly leaving behind marks, while his back arched in some stupid hope of getting away from those teeth - or potentially to provide some friction for below his hips.
The sound of approval spilling from Jack’s lips only further fuelled Robby’s fire.
“That’s it… don’t hold back on me. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Jack cooed at him.
Time became elastic soon after. It stretched and compressed at the will of Jack Abbot and his damn mouth. It worked its way down his chest, stopping only to pay attention to places Robby himself didn’t even know would make his lower abdomen bloom with lust, all while Jack’s hands carefully mapped out every inch of skin with purpose.
Robby couldn’t track it all, incapable of keeping up with the sensations rushing through his body and all that want shooting through his veins.
Jack’s palm sliding up his ribs with just enough pressure to make him whine with pleasure. Jack’s teeth at his hip bone, making him gasp and flinch. Jack’s soft, beautiful hair underneath and slipping through Robby’s fingers as soon as he moved too far away for much else of him to grab and hold on to.
Michael needed to be good for this man, because this entire deal would only end pleasurably if Jack was enjoying himself as well. If this turned out to be a onetime thing because Jack woke up the next day and decided this had been a mistake, Robby could live with it.
He could.
But if this was going to happen only once, then it had to be good. Had to be the best it could possibly be. Just to be worth the risk.
Whatever happened, it needed to have been worth abandoning their perfect friendship after all.
“You’re thinking too much.” Jack muttered against his soft stomach, glancing up at Robby through long lashes with that same assessing look from before. “I can practically hear it from here. Stop.”
“I’m not-” Robby argued, heat flooding his chest from the embarrassment of not just getting caught so easily but also quickly, but he never got to finish that sentence. A strong, warm hand wrapped around his length, the touch both firm and confident, and exactly the way Michael had wanted. So just like that, every thought remaining in his mind seemed to evaporate like steam.
“What was that?” The low, rough tease in Jack’s voice was edged with that same amusement from before. “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart.”
Robby couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do anything except arch into the touch, tighten his hold on grey curls and try to remember how breathing worked. Hard enough just keeping himself together without falling apart at how good it felt to have Jack wrapped around him like his straining cock belonged to him.
The feeling was different to any woman who’d ever touched him. Jack’s hand was rough, strong, and especially certain in its movement; however, the most important part about it was that… it was Jack. Jack who’d seen him at his worst and stayed throughout it. Jack, who’d wanted this, had wanted him for years. A knowledge threading through every touch and every stroke, making it so much more than just physical.
With the other seemingly not in a mood to argue, Robby simply focused on that hand working him in steady, sure strokes up and down his length, while hazel eyes were tracking every reaction of his. Every hitch of breath, every small sound Robby couldn’t hold back. And then that hand slowed, its grip loosening just enough to make the poor man whine at the loss of friction, warmth, and touch.
“Hmmmm…” Jack’s voice was still low, but the edge to it had softened more. His free hand came up to cup Robby’s face, thumb brushing down his cheek. “Look at me for a second, would you?”
In all honesty, Robby hadn’t even realised his eyes had fallen shut in the first place and that made it much harder to figure out how to open them back up again. Once he did, he found Jack watching him with dilated pupils- hah! Bastard was just as gone as Robby - but… there was something else in there too. Something careful.
“We’re about to cross into unfamiliar territory here,” Jack mumbled. “And I need you with me, not just… going along because you think you have to.” His thumb now traced Robby’s bottom lip, making the man part his lips almost expectantly. “So I’m going to ask you this straight-” There was the tiniest edge of a grin there that Robby’s head was too foggy to place. “Do you want to keep going? All the way?”
With his heart hammering in his chest, his entire body thrumming with want and fear in equal measures, Robby nodded. He nodded. “I- yes. Yeah, I want to.”
“You sure?” Jack pressed on it even if there was no judgement he could feel behind it, just that genuine need to know and be safe about it. “Because we can stop here. We can cuddle and I’ll kiss you until you pass out and we can try again, another time, when you’ve had more time to-”
“No.” Robby’s hand shot out to grip Jack’s wrist, even if the man hadn’t actually moved it away from his face; the need to stop him from doing so was ever-present. “No. I want this. I want you. I’m just-” He swallowed hard, trying to get his thoughts in order. “I’m nervous about it, but I don’t want to stop. Please.”
For a moment, Jack studied him like he was reading vitals, assessing the risk of going with one treatment over the other. Then something in his expression shifted; it simultaneously softened and sharpened, making heat swirl in Robby’s stomach. “Okay. But you need to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You feel like it’s too much? You need me to slow down or stop entirely? You tell me.” Jack’s grip on his face tightened just slightly, forcing Robby to concentrate and essentially render everything else irrelevant. All that remained were those gorgeous eyes and what the man wanted him to hear. “I mean it, Michael. I need you to use your words. Can you do that for me?” The signature tone of being firm but not unkind, commanding but still caring, made his heart flutter and his mouth go dry. “Yes. I can do that.”
“Good boy.” Jack leaned down with a smile, and the second Robby felt those lips on his own, he finally eased up on his tense shoulders again, readying himself for whatever was coming because he knew he could trust the man. The kiss wasn’t long, but slow and thorough, like a deal being signed by both of them, and when Jack pulled back, he smiled even wider. “Now, just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
One of Jack’s hands kept working him nice and steady, while the other reached for the nightstand, fumbling briefly with something Robby couldn’t notice because he was busy being focussed on that stupid hand. Relaxing into the sheets below him, he felt like he was floating, until the sudden click of the cap of a bottle made his heart stutter as reality tried to make its way through the haze.
“Still got you…” Jack reassured him, clearly reading the tension in Robby’s body a little too easily. “You’re okay.”
Then, Jack’s hand was sliding down his thigh - purposefully grounding - to spread Michael’s legs wider. That same click of a bottle cap sounded through the air, followed by the sensation of a cool and wet finger hitting the skin of his thigh. It moved lower and lower, and then- contact.
The welt finger circled his entrance, barely putting any pressure on the ring of muscle; it just existed there. Robby’s entire body seized up. Every muscle went rigid, locked tight despite his brain screaming at him to relax. Just relax. You want this.
And he did. God, he wanted this. But his body was afraid in a way his mind wasn’t. “I-” The words wouldn’t come out, especially considering he had just said yes. Again. “God fuck- Just a second-”
There was no pressure as Jack paused both the hand running up and down Robby’s length as well as the hand further down, but he didn’t pull away. Just stopped and shifted enough to meet Robby’s eyes. His expression was still soft and understanding, even if there was just a hint of amusement at the edges. “Hey. Another pause, that’s fine.” His voice was gentle, reassuring as he spoke. “We go at your pace, remember?”
Robby groaned, letting his head roll to the side to look away from him. “Don’t laugh at me, asshole.” Somehow that made it out of his head with no issue. A whole, coherent thought!
A lighthearted laugh rumbled through Jack’s chest and just like that, the sensation of stubble brushed against his exposed neck. “I’m not laughing at you, sweetheart. Promise.” A beat followed, and then his voice dropped, a teasing tone creeping into it. “Though I will point out, it’s quite the dumb decision to snap at the hand currently holding your cock and balls hostage.”
Despite himself, Robby’s lips twitched.
“Besides,” Jack continued, once more softer. “I get it. This is all new. Your body’s gonna freak out a little about it all. That’s normal for your first time.”
It was a tragedy how he keened at that, at the thought of having saved something up for Jack?! Him being able to guide Michael through it despite their age. Having something left that he could offer him. Brown eyes fell shut and his hips twitched into the stilled hand around his cock. Because it had felt good even if it was an unfamiliar feeling making his body shut down against his will.
“Words, brother.” The patience remained, dousing Robby in warmth. “You’re usually so good at using them with me. What do you need?”
Maybe it was the familiar nickname that had him turn his head back towards Jack. Maybe it was the intense need to kiss the man again, grounding himself into feeling and being safe enough to relax. Michael didn’t know and he didn’t need to find out, when he could just as well use his lips to get around admitting something entirely embarrassing.
Pressing his mouth onto Jack’s and tasting him like he had before, was already coming easy to Robby. He let both his hands fly up to Jack’s head now, burying themselves in Jack’s hair again. It was imperative to pull him closer, so that there was no way in hell he’d break the kiss. Michael needed to feel him.
He could feel Jack tense up, lips tightening on his, but willed himself to believe that it didn’t have to do with neither the kiss, nor that Jack suddenly hated it. There was hesitation in the other man, and with his fear of underperforming, Robby simply leaned in more and let out a soft whine. Why… wasn’t he reacting like before?
Jack finally growled into the kiss, a sound that made Robby’s spine tingle and his hips buck up into the still unmoving hand. Finally, he seemed to cave and returned the kiss, pressing Robby down into the mattress, using his weight to pin him beneath his body and to devour him, leaving no room for air between them. Now Robby has had his fill of make-out sessions. This was something he could do and fall into, guiding and pulling Jack onto him as much as he could.
This was easier; it was better and made his head return into that pretty little haziness he’d felt before. Certainly, the fact that the hand wrapped around his throbbing cock having begun moving again played a part in that as well. It added to the heat spreading throughout his body as he moaned into Jack’s mouth.
This was good. He could relax.
He could tug on those tight curls and hear Jack respond with a muttered curse just to feel that mouth wander again. Down to Robby’s neck, sucking yet another mark into his skin, almost forcing him to tilt his head to the side to give him better access.
“You didn’t use your words, Robinavitch.” Jack chastised him.
“Stop fucking talking, Abbot-” Robby gave back whilst trying to hold back the soft moan as he kept on rocking his hips up and into that moving hand. He was comfortable with this. He was comfortable with the man, and he just needed him to stop talking and do something instead.
A controlled exhale hit the wet spot on his throat before teeth came down on his skin only to have Robby cry out in surprise. “You’re so damn lucky this is your first time.” Jack growled against his throat. “Next time, I won’t be this lenient.”
Next time? Next time?!
The thought of this not being a once-and-done procedure had brown eyes fly open and his thrusting hips come to a stuttering stop. Robby whipped his head around, almost colliding with Jack. “Next time?”
A blinking and surprised Jack returned his gaze. “Yeah?” he studied Robby’s face, something soft crossing his expression. “Michael, you didn’t think this was a one-time thing, did you?”
Robby couldn’t find the words describing the fact that… he did. He expected that. Jack’s hand came back up again, cupping his face and gently brushing over his cheekbone again, tracing the edge of his scruffy beard. “I’ve been waiting years for you. You think I’m gonna let you go after one night?” His voice dropped into something sincere. “I want this. I want you. As many times as you’ll have me.”
That needed a little processing. He had been so very focussed on getting through tonight - on not royally fucking up the night or their friendship - that he hadn’t let himself think about after. About this being something ongoing if it went well. “Okay-” His voice came out rough, courtesy of the open moans he wasn’t used to letting out.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Robby swallowed and then made himself say it. He felt a little odd being in this position, being the one saying these words instead of hearing it the other way around, and yet- yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. “I want you to fuck me. Please.” The ‘please’ honestly slipped out without him meaning it to, but Jack’s eyes darkened immediately.
“You asking or begging, sweetheart?”
Bastard.
That stupid question alone almost had him falter; his head so very close to slipping back into whatever headspace it had moved into earlier. “Asking.” He replied, because he was a grown-ass man and not begging to be fucked.
“Well… we’ll work on that.” Jack’s tone was back to being playful, which only resulted in Robby’s heart going back to hammering out of his chest. He’d been about to snark back when that slicked-up finger gently pressed against his entrance again. “Ah- ah. Be good and just relax for me, baby...”
And this time, Robby actually did. This time, he let the warmth spread and tried not to think about it too much; instead, instead listened to the constant stream of gentle reassurances from Jack as he talked him through it all.
You’re doing so well… Just breathe… Such a good boy.
Each word of praise settled into him like a real touch. It made him pliant; made him want.
Jack worked him open slowly, one finger first, then two, and at some point, Robby lost track of when the transitions happened. He merely knew that Jack’s voice never stopped, Jack’s hand on his cock never stilled, and Jack’s mouth kept finding his skin.
Beautiful, sweetheart. You’re opening up for me so nicely~
Robby felt like he was floating and… that was new. Of course he’d had good sex in his lifetime; great sex even, but he had never felt like this. The sensations were strange and still slightly uncomfortable, even for someone who knew where they came from, but there were so many positive sensations wrapping around him that it barely seemed to matter. Like his brain had gone soft and warm, and all that mattered was Jack’s voice telling him how good he was doing.
“One more,” Jack muttered through the haze in his head. “You can do it. I know you can.”
The third finger stretched him wider, and Robby groaned, a low and needy one. His noises were uncontained as Jack’s lips were busy where he could reach. Robby’s chest, his sides, his stomach. Grounding him even as he was drifting. “That’s it… perfect… my good boy, you’re so nice and relaxed.”
Robby rutted up into Jack’s hand, desperate and wanting, making sounds that should have embarrassed him and yet didn’t. Not here. Not with Jack.
Time became meaningless. Robby couldn’t track how long Jack worked him open. All he knew was the praise, the warmth, the desperate need to be good for Jack. His task was to reply, shower him in grunts and groans, and maybe a whine here and there.
“I really need to teach you to talk to me.” Jack chuckled and shook his head at him as he pressed the third finger in now, right up to the first knuckle. “Can’t wait to hear you beg for me… beg me to fuck you.”
Again.
Whining and squirming at the filth leaving Jack’s lips. No one had ever said these things to him; it had always been him doing it. Robby pressing someone down; Robby preening at hearing those words whined towards him. And now? Now he was the one holding back from saying them, and he liked it. Fuck. He did.
“Oh?” Could Abbot not sound this damn amused and entertained by his reactions? Was that possible at all? “You like that? You want to beg for me? Want to be a good boy who pleads for more? Who says ‘Please Jack… Please, Sir, I want more…’?”
Wanton.
There was nothing but pure wantonness in his voice as Robby couldn’t hold back a throaty moan. Suddenly pressing down on those fingers, Jack bottomed out on all three, and there was not much more than slight discomfort on Robby’s face. He needed to feel that man. Inside of him. Right now.
“Please-” His voice was so faint, the plea the only thing that made it through the haze. “Please, Jack.”
Never in his life had he felt like this before. Liquid fire ran through his veins, which was without parallel, and his lust spread so wide and hard, Michael was already leaking pre-cum from his tip, reducing the friction to a pleasurable level once Jack’s palm was coated with it. He could barely make out the world around him, not that it was strictly necessary, when he could feel Jack’s firm body on his, pressing him down as much as he could while also knuckle-deep inside him. But only knuckle-deep.
Somewhere around him, he could make out Jack’s voice, trying to cut through the rushing need in his head. He could barely hear him and this time it wasn’t because Robby was overthinking anything. Robby couldn’t think at all. There was no room for it with all those feelings tingling beneath his skin.
“... for me ...”
“-obby … for me … at me…”
His entire world had narrowed down to Jack’s hands on his body, that careful stretch and press that was too much and not enough and somehow everything all at once. Jack’s voice filtered through and Robby tried so hard to make out the words, but there was something disturbing him in listening. Someone else was talking, making noise and it distracted him from being able to catch the meaning of those loose words hanging in the air.
Suddenly some of the pleasure was gone; some of it was just in the wind and that voice, the other person in the room was crying out for the lack of touch of Robby’s cock. It fell against his stomach and Robby became painfully aware of the fact that the voice having distracted him had been his own this entire time. He blinked, trying to figure out why Jack hadn’t just stopped touching him or what he’d done to deserve this. Jack had spread Robby’s legs and was somewhat comfortably seated on his heels. Well, one heel. While one hand wasn’t in view - clearly the one that was causing the nice stretchy feeling - the other was busy working on Jack’s cock, sliding on a rubber.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Jack quipped the moment his gaze travelled to Robby’s face again. “I know, I know- I pulled you right out of it, didn’t I? Needed you here with me though.”
“No-” Robby breathed out.
“I know, sweetheart. I’ll make up for it, I promise.” Jack hummed, leaning forward and using the now free hand to catch himself as he hovered above Robby again.
“No- that’s not-” He clearly had been incredibly unfair in his past innuendos, considering he couldn’t get out a single thought because Jack kept on interrupting the one forming in desperation.
Jack frowned at that, understandably so and now those fingers inside Robby halted their moving, which only worsened his damn situation. “Hey… hey it’s okay. You wanna stop?” There wasn’t even any disappointment in that voice and Robby would have loved to yell at the man for not understanding him, if he hadn’t been so busy whining at the sudden loss of comfortable stretch.
“No-” Again, he didn’t want to stop. Far from it, actually, but his head didn’t comply with making any sense. Not with how strung tight he was with all of that praise Jack had dished out on him. His hands flew to his head, intending to press their heels against his eyes, hoping to ground himself into a little more focus.
“Michael-” Hands caught his wrists before they’d even reached his face in the first place, they’d been pulled further to be pinned above Robby’s head. Jack, now fully stretched out over Robby, truly used all of his height to get him to focus again. “This is why I’m insisting on you using your words for me, love. Look at me. Talk to me, Robinavitch.”
“‘S hard-” It really was. This tight feeling in his chest was back, but this time it wasn’t fear of what was coming or anxiety; it was something entirely different. Jack hummed in support, as if he understood him so very well. “I know. But I need you to try for me. Come on. You’ve done so well for me so far. What’s bothering you, sweetheart? Tell me and we’ll make it go away.
Robby was locked in place. Six foot one and utterly helpless beneath Jack, plugged on those fingers, hands pinned, body caged, and yet he’d never felt safer. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t think-
Luckily, he could feel and that saved him, as he felt the rubbery texture against his skin and his problem finally shot through his head like a beaming light. “No condom.” He finally spat out, his head still struggling to build a coherent sentence here.
He could see the surprise flicking over Jack’s face that he would have called out if he was in any position to do so. But he wasn’t. Much less so when that surprise was washed away and replaced by a deep excitement that crawled right under Michael’s skin, making him shiver. Jack leaned down and pulled him into a kiss that was returned instantly. This time around, the desperation seeped into it freely. That need to feel, to taste, to own caused Robby to moan and bite. All tongue and teeth as he fought the hand holding his wrists in place, keeping him from pulling Jack closer.
No escape. Of course, it was only the angle that gave Jack an advantage over him; no other reasons. However, what he didn’t expect, locked into place like this, was Jack removing his fingers. His hole, freshly stretched for the first time like that, was suddenly empty and desperately closed around the cool air, searching for something that would fill it. Fuck-
Robby whined into the kiss, tilting his head to the side to complain, just to be shushed by the handsome attending on top of him. “Shush, you big baby.” The fondness in Jack’s voice almost made him delirious. Or … was it his clenching hole? Either or.
Jack’s lubed-up hand moved to free one of Robby’s above his head to lead it down between their bodies. He didn’t stop him or shy away from the touch of a hot, throbbing length covered in rubber he felt beneath his fingertips only beats later. “If you don’t want me to wear one, be a good boy and take it off~” Jack cooed.
The moment his hand wrapped around Jack’s cock, he gave it a gentle squeeze, a soft pump, watching the man’s reaction to it. Right now, neither his hole was filled, nor was there a hand on his own length, which should bother him - and to a degree it did, his ass still clenching around the air, but at the same time, he was fully enamored simply touching Jack. Getting his hands on him, letting his fingertips rub over that condom and slowly but surely pull it off him.
“Yeah, okay.” He could do that.
It only helped that Jack let out little grunts against his shoulder, where he sucked one mark after the next into Robby’s skin, busying himself as he was being worked on. “Fuck-” he cursed into that shoulder. “So good to me…” That soft tone of Jack’s voice certainly flooded Robby’s head with pride and sent a tingling wave down his spine. “Such a good boy, I knew you could be… So gentle and kind to me-”
The pride grew, the haze with it. Robby was panting eagerly from the praise alone, pulling the condom off his best friend’s cock just to carelessly throw it off to the side so that he could get his hand around Jack again. It pumped up and down quickly, trying to return some of the kindness Jack had been showering him with. “Mikey-” Jack moaned out his name. A guttural one that sent pleasure right into Robby’s jumping, aching cock. “Baby- stop, you’re gonna-” And his wrist was grabbed now, mid-pump.
“Just let me give back a little-” Michael argued, despite knowing the reason for the halt too well. Neither of them were young men anymore. They had one shot before they’d need to recover and that would mean Robby’d have to wait an incredible amount of time before he’d get his ass filled. Which- simply wasn’t acceptable.
Before he could even do anything other than that, his hand was moved back above his hand, held there, while Jack switched sides, using his other hand to grip short dark hair and yank Robby’s head to the side. “Today is about you, Michael.” A low hum vibrated against the sensitive skin just below his ear. “Not me. I’m just lucky enough to be the very first guy to offer what you desperately need. So be a good boy and take what I’m giving you.”
Finally he felt a touch on his entrance again, blissfully making all more or less important thoughts fly right out the window. Even more so when he realised that the touch wasn’t courtesy of Jack’s fingers but him pressing past his rim as he continued to whisper praise into that same spot of skin as before. Robby keened at the stretch that returned and was more intense than before. Three fingers had been good enough for a safe stretch, but the real deal was way different. There was nothing that could have prepared him for the slow and steady and impossibly careful pressure that built up the further Jack buried himself inside of him.
Michael’s breath stopped altogether now, his back arching helplessly to get away from that same pressure. “Breathe, my love.” Jack ordered, his voice strained but still in control. “Breathe with me, come on, you can do it.”
A gasp for air to try and comply with the order had his hands scrambling for purchase where they were pinned and just like that, they were released. Immediately making contact with Jack’s shoulders, sliding down his back, nails pressing into freckled skin. The praise was back too, coming in gently soft whispers into his ear.
That’s good… You’re taking me so well. Feel good? Yeah, I can hear that, baby.
Before he knew it, Jack had bottomed out and was sucking yet another mark into Robby’s shoulder; this time around, to hide a moan that he could feel vibrate against his skin. Being filled out like this was an entirely new sensation, and yet it felt so right, especially hearing Abbot tell him that the entire time. Fuck. He wanted more. He wanted everything of what Jack had promised him. Wanted to feel even better than just good.
So Robby moved his hips. A little jerkily since the movement was different from what he was used to, but enough to get the expected reaction out of both of them. A soft grunt from Jack and a low moaned release of air from himself. Almost immediately after, a hand made it down to his hips, locking them in place again as Jack elicited a small snort. “Fucking brat. You really can’t just take what you’re being given, hm? Can’t just let me make you feel good.”
“Not my fault you’re so slow.” he gave back, his confidence growing the further they were getting. “You said you’d make me feel good.”
The low chuckle against his ear sent shivers down his damn spine, making Robby grin just as much. “Well, tell me how’s it feel then? Feel good to have me all up in you? Filling your pretty ass up?”
“Good-” Michael confirmed, his nails leaving marks on the freckled back returning the favor. “Now make it feel even better.”
“Your wish is my command.” Jack’s voice was rough from certainty. So much purchase in every syllable that made Robby’s head swim. Or maybe that was because Jack had finally pulled out just to ease himself back in? Whatever it was, Robby’s head bobbed backwards and he let out a whimper at the pleasure and stretch. It felt so good. So damn good. Why had he never tried this before? How had he never been interested in this before?!
Jack’s rhythm picked up ever so slightly. With each rock back of his hips, pulling out fully and pressing his tip right back in, he coaxed more frantic pants out of Robby. Where he’d been lucid just moments ago, he felt like Jack was pushing him under the surface of thick honey-like lust.
He was whining and whimpering, desperately trying to find some way to touch himself. Whenever he reached himself though, Jack’s hands found his wrists, stopping him. “Nonono, baby. Gotta be a good boy. Good boys wait patiently to feel good…”
But-
Jack had said he’d make him feel good - and fuck this did feel good; incredible, actually - but Robby needed to come, needed friction, he needed more. His hands kept reaching for his cock on instinct, and Jack kept stopping him, and Robby was too far gone to understand the game they were playing. He couldn’t think. Not with that amazing cock inside of him. Not when he already felt so very good, he could barely breathe, his eyes stinging from being pressed shut so that he could focus solely on Jack.
Jack.
Jackjackjackpleasejack.
The pleasure pooled in his stomach, ready to release, ready to just shoot out of him, the moment his aching and throbbing cock would finally get some friction again. But it didn’t. Instead, Jack angled his hips differently, leaning to one side and guided Robby to lift his hips just a little and-
A scream ripped from Robby’s lungs, when Jack finally found what he’d been looking for, judging by that proud growl. “There it is. Good boy… you’re so vocal for me now.” He praised him and if that didn’t make his desperate cock leak even more, he didn’t know what would.
“You gonna cum for me like this? Untouched? Or do you want me to help you out, hm? Jerk you off?”
“Je’k mmmmmh off-” he babbled half-coherently, even opening his eyes to make sure Jack was happy with his answer. He was good. He wanted to be so good for him. Really.
What he saw when he blinked past that stupid haze in his view, were pupils blown so wide there remained barely anything of that gorgeous hazel left in their eyes. A gaze that looked down at him in pure awe and a body so hot and sweaty it almost undid him on sight.
“Fuck- yes- okay-” Jack’s voice cracked and his hips stuttered in their rhythm for just a second, before he found it again. “Good boy. So good for me today.”
Those hips were pounding into him with desperate intensity, hitting and hitting and hitting, and with every single thrust, Robby’s vision whitened, his breath hitching hard. When Jack’s large, calloused hand finally wrapped around him, it needed only a couple of pumps for his release to spread in thick, white stripes over Jack’s hand as the man’s name spilled from his lips.
Michael’s body went taut, walls clenching around the cock still working in him as Jack chased his own release. The ringing in his ears and the shock still pulsing through his veins only increased as Jack finally came with a low groan. The man’s forehead dropped to Michael’s shoulder as he shuddered through it, his hips stuttering before finally stilling.
They lay tangled in Jack’s sheets, a mess of limbs, and neither of them able to catch their breath. Michael’s body felt like it belonged to someone else. It was heavy and loose and somehow entirely wrung out; especially now that his muscles had dissolved into jelly.
His mind? For the first time in months was blessedly, mercifully quiet.
Save for those soft bouts of praise falling from Jack’s lips despite the man’s heavy breathing. “Such a good boy….” he whispered right into Michael’s ear. “You have no idea how fucking good you look right now, Robinavitch.”
Neither did Robinavitch know that, nor did he know how long they’d just laid there, his nose buried in Jack’s hair. Did it matter though, considering inhaling and exhaling the words and the smell of sex and that stupid tea-tree oil shampoo the night-shift attending always used, was nothing but bliss? There was nothing to worry about, nothing to consider, nothing to confirm or deny, to organize.
Michael was simply happy.
At some point, Jack had carefully pulled out, coaxing a grumble from the taller man, which was immediately soothed away by a soft kiss to Robby’s temple and that stupid pet name that made him feel much more fuzzy and warm inside than it ever had.
Baby.
Women had called him 'baby' before. Plenty of them, but it had never sounded like this. Never carried the weight Jack somehow fit into one stupid word. The man had successfully gotten him to settle down without even needing to check where he’d gone as that sticky body moved away. Still, it hadn’t been enough to keep him from a surprised hiss as a warm, wet cloth hit his skin. “Whut-” How was he still slurring his words?! Fucking hell.
“Just cleaning you up. Kinda soiled yourself a little there, my love.” Jack explained and continued to wipe sweat and half-dried cum from Robby’s stomach and side. “Now that you’re back to talking, mind telling me how we’re feeling?”
“Hmmm… dizzy.” The most accurate description of that nice and woozy feeling his mind was still set in. “Drunk?” Was his next attempt, even if he was pretty sure it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault anymore.
Jack chuckled and ever so gently scooted to spread Robby’s legs once more, letting the warm fabric move over his irritated entrance next. There was another hiss from the man immediately trying to close up those legs again. “Dizzy, drunk… any further alliteration you want to throw in there?”
“Douchebag?”
“I guess that works. I did fuck your brains out, after all, so you getting confused between gratitude and curses shouldn’t be all too surprising.” Jack clicked his tongue. “Especially considering your track record of showing gratitude is atrocious, Robinavitch.”
Robby groaned and turned his head away, closing his eyes. “Talking so much again.”
“One of us has to.” Jack laughed and threw the cloth on the floor in favor of lying back down again.
This time he didn’t pick the conversation back up again, merely letting his fingers trace Michael’s side. Every now and then, when those fingers brushed over a specifically sensitive - almost ticklish - spot, he shivered, but otherwise… he just enjoyed the moment.
Surprisingly, it was Michael who broke the silence a little later. “So… that was-”
He heard the breath Jack sucked in despite the man trying to stifle it with a cough. Probably didn’t want to interrupt him from speaking. When Michael paused for too long, Abbot squeezed in a little “Yeah?”
It was so stupid.
Stupid that Jack Abbot had kept his promise about making him feel so good and yet that one word carried an ounce of worry with it too. As if anyone could have not enjoyed the fuck out of this?! Out of hearing those- No. Not thinking about that because he was getting all woozy again just remembering.
“Different,” Michael finally turned his head to look back at Jack again. “Good, different, though.”
That smug fuck. The grin he wore was more than just pride. It had that slight edge of cocky ‘told you so’ in it, which Robby did not appreciate. “‘Good different’ works for me. Though next time, I’ll aim for at least a ‘very good different’.”
Next time.
There it was again and this time, Michael’s head was free to spiral about it just a little bit. Jack wanted a next time. And hell, he did too, but was it feasible? Was it the right decision as the Pitt’s attendings? Should they… start something? Some friends with benefits bullshit? What did Santos call it once in her conversation with Whitaker? Situationship?
Robby shifted, groaning at the sting of his ass and reached for his jacket. Pulling out his phone from its inner pocket and turning it in his hand, Michael squinted his eyes at the light shining upwards. He needed to check the time- check-
“Nuh-uh.” Jack rolled over him and easily snatched the phone from his hands. “Eyes on me, baby.”
Michael’s complaint got stuck in his throat at that dumb pet name again and, reluctantly, he looked back at Jack, grinning down at him. It had that dangerous tilt to it-
“Good boy~”
Heat swamped his cheeks and flushed right down his chest, making Michael want to turn away. Instead, he opted to just drop his gaze somewhere in between them. “Stop calling me that-” A weak defence considering the physical response he had to it.
“Why? Because you’re overwhelmed at how good it makes you feel?” Jack retorted with a snort and Robby hated that he wasn’t just right but also how the tone of his voice caused Robby to clench his jaw. Fuck.
He was fucked.
The little snippet did however want him to deflect from the current topic at hand and so he chose one that was less embarrassing, even if it wasn’t the perfect one to switch to. “So… ‘next time’, huh?”
“Hmmm~” Jack dropped the phone - onto the bed, luckily - and reached over to grab hold of Michael’s jaw, making him look up into those incredibly beautiful eyes once more. That man and his damn eye-contact kink would be the death of him one day.
“Oh, I absolutely want there to be a next time. And one after that. And one after that. And then maybe on the roof, if we’re already feeling frisky on the fifth one…”
Jack Abbot was a lot of things. Pragmatic to a fault, direct in ways that could make some people uncomfortable, all while having zero tolerance for bullshit. Over time, he’d built himself into someone who could handle anything. Trauma, loss, pain, that kind of darkness that would break most. He had built up his walls for a good reason and didn’t let many people in. When he cared, though, he usually showed it through actions, not words.
But Jack Abbot was a kind man at heart, no matter how much of a hardass he could be about it.
Yes… he pushed people, yet only when he believed them to be capable of doing better. He was blunt and direct because any lie would be crueler than the truth in hindsight. He was patient with Robby through every moment of panic and hesitation tonight and any other instance before that, because underneath all that gruff efficiency, there was someone hidden who genuinely gave a shit.
And that right there.
That Robby was well aware of all of those things, knew how Jack operated and that the pure genuine kindness in all of those words he’d thrown at him today was special. Or at least that was what his heart hoped for.
It was what his heart ached for.
So that was why he was almost touched at Jack being so clear and direct in his wants. In wanting him. It showed a vulnerability that few people would have understood. A vulnerability Robby still had a hard time offering.
So, Robby relaxed into the sticky and sweaty sheets and gazed into those gorgeous hazel eyes that he’d felt on him so very much today; he could almost feel himself getting jealous over that not being the case anymore.
“I guess that sounds rather nice… even if the roof would be quite cold at the moment.”
It earned him that silly little smirk as Jack leaned down to claim Robby’s lips in a kiss, making him shut his eyes in enjoyment. Once the kiss had faded, he held Jack close, his eyes remaining shut because he couldn’t deal with seeing the reaction he’d get for his following question. “Can you say those words again?” he whispered softly against Jack’s lips.
“Which ones?” Jack whispered right back, busying himself by stealing another gently kiss while being held captive.
“You know-”
“No I don’t~”
“I’ve said so very many words today, Mikey. You have to be a little more specific about that.” Another kiss. Just for good measure. And maybe Robby didn’t stop him because they were calming him down from the embarrassment brewing in his chest.
“You know-” Robby groaned at being put on the spot. “Don’t- Don’t make me say it, Abbot.” Robby whined and was about to pull away from the hand on his face when the grip of said hand tightened.
“Awww I’m sorry, baby.” Jack apologized softly and Michael could hear the damn grin in his tone. “It would almost be cruel not to tell you after today and after you asked for it so nicely.”
Immediately, Robby’s breath hitched in excitement as he patiently waited for the warmth to seep down his spine and spread into his head. He was waiting and waiting and… slowly, the excitement dropped. He would not say it, was he?
Sad brown eyes opened and locked into hazel ones filled with mirth.
“There’s my good boy.” Jack finally whispered with emphasis and finally… finally, Robby felt that spark again.
The light at the end of the tunnel might just as well be found within the filthy praise falling from Jack Abbot's mouth.