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Abbot felt his phone ring again in his pocket but he was not in a place right now to answer it.
“Decreased breath sounds bilaterally,” he said to the team behind him. “Ellis, put a stitch around the tube.”
“On it,” Parker responded quickly, grabbing sutures.
Jack tuned in for the vibration of a voicemail being left. Probably SWAT asking him to pick up a shift. Despite everyone’s belief, he did need at least an hour of sleep per day.
No voicemail.
“What’s the story?” Dr. Shen asked, his Dunkin’ iced coffee left on the nurses’ station as he entered trauma three.
Abbot opened his mouth to answer when his phone began ringing again. An ominous feeling settled in his stomach. “Teenaged male with multiple gunshot wounds in the back. Bilateral hemothorax. We’ve got a lead out of the left artery already.”
“Stitch is in,” announced Dr. Ellis.
Shen gloved up. “You gonna crack his chest? He’s your patient.”
His fucking phone again. Abbot shook his head. “Uhhh, no. You got this? I have to go check on someone.”
Shen gave him a look. But then promptly jumped on the other side of the table. “Thoracotomy tray,” he ordered. Ellis reached behind her to grab it.
Jack checked out at that moment, pulling his gloves off and shoving them in the hazardous waste container as he fished his phone out of his pocket. I swear to God if this is Gary asking me to pick up—
But his thoughts stopped short as the name “Sonofabinovitch” flashed on his phone—an old joke he never renamed. It still made him smile.
Except right now.
When this was Robby’s eighth missed call.
“Dr. Abbot? Can you see this X-ray?”
“Uhh, yeah, in a minute, Bridget. Lemme just… I just need to check on something.” Jack backed himself through the door to trauma twelve where the deceased body of an older woman who passed from a heart attack was waiting to be taken into the viewing room. “Sorry Mrs. Johnson,” Jack murmured as he hit Call on his phone.
No answer.
“What the fuck, Robby,” he murmured, checking outside behind the curtain quickly.
He called again.
And then he heard the crackle on the other end. “Robby? Come on, man, eight times? What—?”
But it was the sob that stopped him short.
Abbot closed his eyes, flashes of Robby on the roof, Robby on the floor, scattering across his mind. He put his other hand to his forehead. “Michael, what’s wrong?”
“I…”
Jack ran his hand through his hair, grimacing, his back pressing into the exam room wall. “Mike, talk to me.”
“Too many,” Robby choked out on the other end.
“Fuck,” Jack whispered to himself. “Can you get here?”
“No, I don’t—”
Abbot could hear the head nurse asking for him. He squeezed his eyes shut before giving an order into the phone. “Get here in twenty minutes. Meet me on the roof. This is not a negotiation.”
He swore up and down, shoving his phone back in his pocket, and noting the time on the wall.
3:46AM.
He’d need to be on the roof at 4:16.
Until then, he was busy.
Emerging from the exam room, he found Bridget who was flirting with Jerome from security again. “Bridge? X-ray? Yeah?”
“Oh, right!” she chirped up, grabbing the iPad.
3:50
“Dr. Abbot? Can you clear my patient in five? He’s ready to go home. I gave him a follow-up appointment.”
3:57
“Jack, I gotta go out for another Dunkin’ run.”
4:04
“Have you heard back from CT on the idiot in seven who thought skateboarding drunk was cool?”
4:14
“This is the best iced coffee ever, but now I’m gonna have to pee in ten minutes.”
Jack checked his phone quickly for any missed calls or messages. Nothing.
He’d be there then.
4:15
“Well, hold it in because I need a minute.”
“Where you goin? Room two is intubated.” Shen shot him a look.
“Which is why they are in competent hands with you.”
Shen smirked. “I’ll bet you say that to all your attendings.”
Jack winked as he walked backward toward the elevators. “Only ones with caffeine addictions.”
Shen feigned shock. “So all of them! I was right!”
Jack let out a laugh and turned around, his face falling immediately.
4:16
He had to climb the last few staircases on foot, but when he emerged onto the roof, the spring evening had settled perfectly over the city. A slight breeze, the promise of rain in the morning. Fuck, it was already kinda morning.
He took in a shaky breath before looking to his right.
Where he found Robby standing at the edge, looking down.
Jack cleared this throat before he started slowly toward him. “I checked with the hospital’s attorney. If you jump and land on someone’s property, hospital insurance won’t pay for it—comes right out of your family estate.”
He swore he saw a small shoulder-shrug of a laugh come from Robby’s dark frame. Abbot finally reached the edge, pushing his hands into his scrub pockets and turning around, his back hitting the low wall so he could see Robby’s face.
God, he was haunted. Abbot moved closer, placing the whole right side of his body against Robby’s. He watched Robby’s eyes fall closed at the contact, the grounding of one body to another despite being miles in the sky.
Robby’s hands reached out and grasped the edge tightly. Jack’s eyes slid to them.
Robby’s hands.
Jack had watched those hands do many things. They’d cut, they’d sewn. They’d sensed wounds and opened others. They’d put pressure on arteries and opened airways to lungs. They’d written orders for lifesaving antibiotics and signed certificates of death. Those hands had performed miracles and made mistakes. And here, now, they doubted their worth.
Jack’s urge to put his hand on top of Robby’s was strong—but he resisted. For now.
“What was too much?” he asked.
Robby blinked a couple of times. “What?”
“On the phone. You said ‘too much.’”
Robby shook his head. “No, no, I said ‘too many.’”
“Ah,” Jack said with an eyebrow raise. “A distinction without a difference.”
Robby huffed an angry laugh before letting his head fall back to the dark sky. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Why did I let you talk me into coming here?”
Abbot turned immediately, pressing his chest against Robby’s side, their faces close.”I’m trying to get you to fucking talk to me, Mike. You call me eight fucking times while I’m knuckle deep in a kid’s chest and then give me cryptic shit when I ask what’s wrong?”
Robby dropped his head back down to his chest, not moving from Abbot’s touch. “I thought I could be him. I thought I could be Abramson. I thought I could take the department he left and…” Robby’s eyes glistened.
“You did, Mike.” Abbot’s hands itched from being stuck in his pockets.
Robby started trembling slightly. “Mm, mm.” He shook his head no. “No, I didn’t. It’s a mess. Everyone’s a mess. Langdon’s an addict. Dana’s carrying around medicinal weapons. Mohan’s got panic attacks. Javadi’s family thinks I’m a joke.”
“Mike.”
“And I was supposed to leave on sabbatical a week ago but…”
“Mike.”
“But I can’t let it go. I know I made it worse but what happens when I leave? I left it in shambles.”
Abbot’s hands shot forward on their own, finding Robby’s face and turning it to his. “Stop. You’re everything Abramson wanted you to be. You’re one of the most respected physicians in this building. You’re the guy I’d call if I needed my life saved. What more are you expecting out of yourself?”
Robby’s shaky hands covered Abbot’s. “I can’t fix it all.”
“No one’s fucking asking you to.”
“No one calls me Mike.”
“I fucking do.”
“I don’t wanna be in control.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I don’t know how to let go.”
“Let me do it for you.”
With an angry groan, Abbot shoved Robby away from him. “Put your hands up against that wall.”
Robby’s eyes widened in the dark. “I don’t—”
“You’re not in fucking control right now, Michael. Put your fucking hands on the fucking wall.”
Robby’s heart began to beat slowly but intensely, anticipation washing over him like the thrill of the open road. His emotions warred with his mind, one telling him to run back down the stairs and the other telling him to let go.
Just when the one with the stairs was about to take over, Abbot started toward him with a determined scowl on his face. And God if that didn’t cause an involuntary swallow to work down Robby’s throat. So he turned, finding the wall behind the view of the entrance to the roof that would alert them if someone was coming.
Robby spread out his fingers, mind racing, as he placed them on the cool brick.
“This is not gonna be nice for you,” Abbot’s gravelly tone came from behind him.
Robby just shook his head, dropping it between his extended arms. “It shouldn’t be.”
“Fucking martyr,” Abbot gritted, his groin suddenly pressing against Robby’s ass. Boots kicked Robby’s feet wider—no one really understood why Abbot wore boots in the ER rather than comfortable sneakers but there must be some kind of connection to combat. Robby hated to admit he loved it—he always knew when he was near.
“If I was a real martyr, I’d be dead,” Robby threw back at him.
Abbot didn’t have time for preparation—he was still on the clock, there were still patients under his feet. “Can’t even die right, doc.” His hand wound around Robby’s waist, thrusting into his pants, finding him already semi-hard. “Expecting me?”
The moment their skin met, the devastating whimper that fell from Michael’s mouth had Jack’s knees weak. “You always know what I need,” was the dayshift attending’s only answer.
“You’re damn right I do,” Jack confirmed, feeling Robby harden under his touch instantly. Robby’s legs jerked, huffing air into the night as Jack stroked him, quickly, harshly.
Robby’s voice came in hoarse bursts. “This is a bad idea.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jack ordered, grinding his own erection against Robby’s ass. “Of course it’s a bad idea.”
But despite his words, Abbot could feel him backing against him, searching for more.
Robby was hard now, his hips beginning to move slightly, ready to seek release.
Again, Abbot had no time, and he knew Robby’s mind would talk him out of this in a moment or two. So he draped himself over Robby’s back, used his left hand to grab the attending’s hair, and put his other hand under his mouth. “Spit.”
“Jack.”
Abbot tightened his grip on his hair. “Then I’ll do it raw.”
“Fucking…” Robby obeyed, gathering spit in his throat and dropping it into Abbot’s waiting palm.
Jack just chuckled darkly. “This is barely enough. Don’t come to my ER when you’re bleeding.”
What Jack didn’t expect was the returning whimper that issued out of Robby’s mouth at his words. Oh God, I’m so fucked, he thought, his own cock giving an unexpected jump.
He dropped Robby’s scrubs and spread the spit as well as he could around his asshole, then adding his own so neither of them would pass out.
Usually, when Robby sought him out to prevent him from absolutely destroying himself, they had time—at least moments to prepare. But Jack had been in the middle of a shift and Robby wasn’t supposed to even be here. They didn’t have time, they didn’t prepare. It made Jack wonder if he’d done it on purpose—Robby wanted this to hurt.
Fine then.
Jack swore at himself, running his hand along Robby’s spine. He felt him dip into his touch, trying to get him to relax even for a moment.
Before he lined himself up with Robby’s entrance and pushed forward.
Michael cried out, his body buckling under the pressure. Abbot swore, reaching forward to add his hand to the brick wall next to Robby’s as he pushed. He pulled his hips back slightly, dipped his head and spit on his own dick, gripped himself, and then pushed back in.
“Fucking hell,” Robby groaned at the stretch, at the intrusion. But he didn’t tell him to stop, he didn’t let his body fall forward—he pushed back. He wanted this. He wanted the pain, wanted the raw feeling of being impaled. Like it went right through his soul.
Abbot’s hand was gripped horribly tight around Robby’s waist, a bruise no doubt already forming as he held him in place. Jack pulled back and out one last time, before giving Robby’s hip a death grip as he slammed forward with a long grunt.
Michael’s knees actually buckled then, but Jack anticipated it and kept him up. Abbot’s eye didn’t miss the glint of the tear that fell from Michaels’ face.
The moment Jack’s cock was buried to the hilt in Robby’s ass, Michael felt his entire mind stop.
Fear, gone. Anxiety, disappeared. Worry about the future, about going back to his empty home, lost. Clear. All he cared about was the delicious ache up his spine, a person—maybe the only person—that he trusted being the one to give it to him.
Jack began to move, drawing his cock back and then pushing forward with a grunt. “Is this what you wanted? What you needed?” Jack asked, his lips against the skin on Robby’s back.
“Yes,” Michael admitted, the “s” drawing out as Jack’s cock hit his prostate, sending a shock of pure bliss through his body.
“Why can’t you just fucking forgive yourself?”
Michael’s head shot back, a wrecked sob tearing from his throat. “Just fucking fuck me, Jack. Please.”
Jack snarled at Robby’s request; his audacity to ask anything else of him right now. He’ll regret that.
Abbot increased his motion, spreading his legs to anchor himself as he thrust forward. He tried to lose himself in the feeling, the tightness, the vulnerability, but his anxiety loomed. What if this isn’t enough for him? What if he leaves on that fucking motorcycle tomorrow and this is our only goodbye? Last goodbye? Fuck him.
Jack used his fingers to push against the wall, adjusting his hand until it covered Robby’s. He interlaced their fingers against the brick, the only gentleness Michael will get from him tonight. “You don’t care about us. You don’t care about me.”
Robby let out a stuttering breath, a moan on the end. “That’s a lie.”
“You’re fucking selfish,” Abbot grunted, slamming his hips against Robby’s ass now. Punishing. Personal.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Jack had had enough. He didn’t know if Michael was baiting him or being honest but he didn’t fucking care anymore. He withdrew his hand from Robby’s waist and reached around him, grabbing his dick.
“Oh, God,” Robby moaned, his fingernails trying to dig into the brick to hold him steady. His breathing was already erratic, cum already pooling on the tip, balls drawn tightly.
Jack gave him a harsh stroke. “You think this will fix it? Getting my body to clear your mind for five minutes?”
“Yes,” Robby answered.
Jack closed his eyes, sweat now sliding down his face, his scrubs probably soaked. He twisted his hand as he stroked, keeping in time with his own thrusts. Robby’s body began to move with him, fucking into his calloused palm which was now wet with precum.
Robby took in a quick breath, his authoritative tone breaking through the fog. “You can scold me all you want, but I’m the only one you fuck, Sergeant.”
Fucking asshole. Fuck him. But what Jack really hated was exactly this—the fact that Robby knew how to push him, insult him, make him prove himself. And fuck if it didn’t make him harder, more aggressive, more punishing—which gave Robby exactly what he wanted, exactly who he wanted Abbot to be. And he fucking knew it.
Jack was shoved onto the verge of coming, the scene, the moment, the thrill all pushing him forward. He may seem open and friendly, but no one cracked his walls—except one. And he hated him for that.
But he loved him for it more.
This was never going to be real—they were never going to be real. Both Michael and Jack had tried—they thought about being together, being this. But neither of them wanted it. Should this make them lovers? Probably. But it never had. These secluded, brutal moments they shared were just what they were—a physical grounding, an unhealthy vulnerability, an addiction. Waking up making each other coffee was not going to work. Cuddling in bed made them grimace. But this? Jack mercilessly destroying Michael’s body, forcing pleasure where he had none, was what they wanted. What they hated. What they needed.
Robby whipped his hand off the wall and overtook Abbot’s. He curled his fingers around his and crushed them as he crested pleasure. “I’m leaving after this,” he ground out, his body thrusting in time with Jack’s movements.
“Good,” Abbot snarled, rounding his hand over the head of Robby’s dick, bathing in the cry he made. “But you have to come for me first.”
“Jack.”
Abbot put his lips back against Robby’s skin. “Come in my hand so I can wipe it on my dick for the rest of my shift.”
“Fuck,” Robby whimpered, body shaking uncontrollably.
Abbot closed his eyes, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You have to leave me something of you when you’re gone.”
“Fuck,” he said again before his hand seized Jack’s in a death grip, his hips losing complete control as he came. Hard. He didn’t care—for those moments—Robby didn’t care who heard him. His scream of agony, pleasure, freedom echoed into the early morning hours when the world wasn’t watching.
But Abbot squeeze his eyes shut, gritted his teeth as Robby’s contractions gripped his cock. He wasn’t done with him. He couldn’t be. This couldn’t be all.
Jack kept his strokes up, rough, harsh, his hand now covered and dripping in cum.
“Jack, please,” Robby begged.
There we go. “You’re not done.”
“Please.”
“Mike, I learned anatomy; but I know you.”
“God, no.” Robby’s legs gave out finally and Abbot helped lower them to the ground, the rough concrete grating on their knees.
But Jack didn’t let up for a second. He grunted furiously, thrusting madly, stroking wickedly. “Again.”
“Jack, I can’t.”
“I know you can. I know you.”
Robby’s eyes watered from exertion, his muscles spent and torn. His fingernails were chipped from digging them into the wall, the bones in Abbot’s hand probably broken. But God, if it didn’t feel like heaven; God, if it wasn’t him not having to feel guilty for what he wanted because it was being taken from him. It was the sweetest, purest bliss. And fuck if Jack knew it. Knew him.
“Stop, please,” Robby begged but he didn’t mean it. He wanted to mean it.
Jack hated that he knew his game; hated that he knew he was saying that on purpose—making it Jack’s fault, Jack’s demands, Jack’s game. But he loved him too much to deny him. They may not be lovers, or roommates, or partners. But he loved him either way.
“For me then, Mike. For me,” Jack purred.
And that did it. Jack wrenched Michael’s second orgasm from his body by force. He knew every nerve to touch, every sensitive edge to cross. He brought him to his knees and made him beg and that was enough.
Abbot ran his teeth along Robby’s spine as he cried out, emptying himself inside with a slew of brutal last thrusts. Robby shouted in anguish, his body almost fighting the pleasure, surprising even himself that he was capable of coming again so quickly.
Only for him.
Only for right now.
Abbot only stayed bent over Robby’s back for a few moments before snarling and withdrawing roughly, his body jerking at the sensitivity. Robby put his forehead on the concrete, trying to breathe, curled in on himself. He turned his head to look up at Jack who was now on his feet—although not steadily.
Robby watched him smear his dripping hand all over his own cock, causing a groan to rip from Robby’s throat. Then Jack readjusted his boxer briefs and scrubs over them.
Abbot kneeled down next to the senior attending. “If you don’t come back to m… If you don’t come back, I’ll kill you myself.”
And then he stood, ran his other hand through his hair, and was gone around the corner.
Robby heard the door to the roof stairwell wrench open, and then slam shut. He could feel that he was now alone. He could feel the heaviness start to return. He would do anything to go back. Two minutes, just two minutes.
But the world didn’t work like that. It moved forward. Against his will, it moved forward. And even if his heart remained up here for the next two and a half months, he would have to find a way to move with it.