Chapter Text
He’s a young man, freshly graduated, when he meets the elder sibling for the first time. Their tour guide for the Galaxy Police HQ is a young man as well—perhaps barely old enough to be considered man instead of boy. He’s earnest and attentive, a cadet brimming with diligence and pride despite the less-than-glamorous task he’s been assigned.
His name is Andy Summer, and if Robert or the team ever needs anything from him, they only need to ask.
~
He’s still getting used to being Dr. Stewart instead of Robert when he meets the younger sibling for the first time. Jody is a ball of sunshine wrapped in a pink dress and sparkly hair clips who looks at Andy like he’s her entire world.
Andy scoops her up and spins her around, laughing as she proclaims she wants to be just like him when she grows up. He stops once he catches sight of Robert watching, setting Jody down with a cough and a final ruffle to her hair. He stands at attention with an inquisitive eye, even though his shift is already done.
“Don’t mind me,” says Robert, waving a pen-holding hand.
Jody, with all the fearlessness of childhood, points at him and asks why he’s wearing a funny coat. Andy pushes her hand down, mortified, and starts to scold her about judging people’s clothes.
“He’s a scientist, not a police officer,” Andy explains. “Doctor Stewart is his name.”
“Call me Robert,” he says on instinct. Though he’s worked hard for his title, being called Doctor by them somehow makes him feel old.
“I thought I was supposed to call old guys mister,” says Jody, scrunching up her nose, and Andy makes a despairing sound.
“Jody!” he hisses. “Don’t just call people old!”
“I’m not even thirty,” Robert agrees, smothering a laugh behind his clipboard.
The statement makes Andy shoot him a startled glance, and maybe he should work on losing his late-night eyebags if even Andy thought he was over the hill.
“Sorry, Mister Doctor,” Jody says dubiously. “I thought all scientists were old.”
Andy mumbles an apology and possibly a plea for aid, pressing his face into his hands.
Robert gives up trying not to laugh and entertains all Jody’s questions until Andy decides it’s high time for them to go home. He apologizes again for the imposition, but Robert just smiles warmly and invites them to swing by his office anytime.
He sees them off as they leave the station, with a final pat to Jody’s head.
~
Old habits die hard, and he wakes up face down on his keyboard with a blanket draped over his back. He straightens in his seat, wincing as his joints pop, and wonders if Jody’s impression of his age is more accurate than he’d like to admit. This isn’t the first time he’s passed out at his desk in the middle of the night, but he has no memory of nabbing a bright orange shock blanket this time before doing so.
A faint rustle catches his attention, and he blinks rapidly in the bright white lights of the office before searching for the source of the sound. It takes him a moment to find it, despite the source not being exactly small. For a police officer (and such a tall guy to boot), Andy has this uncanny ability to blend into the background until you either forget him or think he was there all along.
“Burning the midnight oil?” he asks, jaw cracking as he covers an incoming yawn.
“I could say the same of you, Doctor,” says Andy, who still won’t call him Robert or even Rob. He claims it’s to set a good example for Jody, who’s stopped calling him Mister Doctor by now, but he still does it even when she’s not around.
Not for the first time, he wonders how old Andy is, but it’s not really any of his business to ask. They’re not even in the same department, despite how often the Summers visit his office now. Another thing with Jody’s fingerprints all over it—Andy had insisted that he wouldn’t dream of imposing, but Jody had been very adamant (and pouty) about seeing the Doctor with the funny stories and even funnier clothes.
Someday, maybe he’ll stop finding it so amusing that Jody’s boundless curiosity (and lack of tact) keeps making Andy blush as pink as her favourite bows.
“You should head home,” says Andy, breaking him out of his reverie. His voice is soft even when he scolds. “I hear pulling too many all-nighters makes you look older than you really are.”
Robert, in a show of utmost professionalism, gives Andy the stink eye and sticks out his tongue.
Andy huffs out a laugh but his arms remain crossed, and he taps his foot for good measure until Robert rises from his seat with all the grace of a drunk flamingo.
“Goodnight, Doctor,” says Andy, gathering up the orange blanket behind him as Robert shambles out the door.
~
The tables turn a few days later, once again late into the night. Robert snaps awake with a crick in his neck and an ache in his gut that tells him he’s probably missed one too many meals. He staggers to his feet, joints cracking (he is not that old, Jody), and heads out to peek into the hall.
Someone is leaning slouched against the wall there, brim of their hat obscuring their face. Still, he has a sneaking suspicion he knows exactly which officer it is. He’s proven right when he tugs the cap up, revealing Andy’s youthful sleeping face.
“A certain someone once told me all-nighters were bad for the skin,” he says, giving Andy a little shake.
Andy startles awake in an instant, eyes blown wide like a deer about to get run over by a car. The look of abject terror is jarring enough that Robert releases him immediately, retreating as he puts up both hands in a sign for calm. This, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to have the desired effect on Andy, because a stream of apologies immediately tumbles out of his mouth.
“Ah—! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Andy, it’s ok,” he says. “It’s just me. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
“I’m just—not used to the night shift yet,” Andy says, babbling away. “Not—not that that’s an excuse! I promise it won’t happen again!”
“Andy,” Robert says slowly, “I don’t give a flying fuck. How many times have you walked in on me dead to the fucking world?”
The swearing is uncharacteristic enough to distract Andy from his rambling, which was exactly Robert’s goal. He stops and stares, blue eyes wide and round in the low light of the hall.
“That’s—different,” says Andy, shaking his head. “I’m here to keep people safe!”
“Not when you look like shit, you aren’t,” he says bluntly, ignoring the fact that he’s the pot calling the kettle black.
Andy’s mouth drops open, and maybe Robert should start to swear more often when he wants to catch him off-guard.
“Come on,” he says, taking Andy by the arm.
Andy stares at their linked arms like they’re a foreign object, letting himself be practically dragged down the halls. Maybe he should feel bad about using his pliant nature against him, but right now all he’s thinking of is food and coffee and finding out what’s wrong.
He releases Andy once they reach their destination, automatic lights turning on in the communal kitchen as they enter the new setting for their talk. For once Andy looks out of place in his surroundings, standing there awkwardly as Robert busies himself heating up instant coffee and soup. It’s not the most gourmet fare, but Andy looks like he desperately needs something warm in him, so it will have to do.
“C’mon, sit,” he says, gesturing at the closest chair. He waits until Andy complies before speaking again. “Andy. What’s wrong?”
Andy looks down at his soup bowl, steam wafting into his face. He worries at the sleeve of his uniform, fidgeting in his seat, and once again Robert wonders exactly how old he is.
Waiting for a response doesn’t stop him from gulping down his own soup and coffee, hot as they both are. His muttered curses at his burnt tongue finally cause Andy to look up with a helpless smile.
“Jody’s home alone now,” he says. He still hasn’t touched his food or drink. “Since I got switched to the night shift, and she doesn’t go to school at this time.”
Your parents, thinks Robert, but in all the time that he’s known them neither of them have ever mentioned anything of the sort.
“Can’t you ask to be switched back?” he asks instead.
Andy shakes his head, looking so miserable that even Robert, never the most tactile of people, wants to go over and give him a hug.
“It’s not…I don’t want to ask for special treatment, or for them to think I can’t do anything they ask.”
The idea of Andy of all people being accused of anything of the sort is absurd. He’s honest to a fault, hardworking, and genuinely cares about people and his job.
“...You worry about her.”
Andy’s shoulders hunch in further, like worrying about his little sister is some kind of heinous crime. Like Robert is a supervisor who’ll mark him up for not being one hundred percent committed to the job.
“Andy,” he says. “It’s not a crime to have a life outside of work.”
And ok, maybe the dubious look he gets in response is entirely warranted, considering they’re having this conversation at work in the middle of the night. But still!
“Try talking to your supervisor,” he continues, pushing the bowl of soup closer to his colleague (his friend). “But if you’d rather not…have you got a babysitter you could call? Or—they’ve got a couple security robots out there. Or even just a good old guard dog?”
Andy starts eating, finally, though he barely seems to see or even taste his food. His gaze is vacant, distant, and Robert blames his own string of late nights in the lab for how long it’s taken him to think of what the problem might still be now.
He doesn’t have to be a scientist to put two and two together. If Andy and Jody’s parents aren’t around, then Andy’s job is likely all they have to depend on. Besides how expensive some of the things he’s suggested can be, there’s also how vital it is that Andy keep this job.
“...Here,” he says, pushing his phone across the table. “Take my number—either of you can call me if something ever comes up. In case you aren’t able to go.”
Someone to stay with Jody for the night is likely what he needs most, but Robert’s not sure he can offer for Jody to sleep over without sounding like a creeper even though she’s fast becoming the little sister he’s never known.
Andy takes his phone like it’s made of glass and prayers, exchanging numbers with his own. The look on his face is so pathetically grateful that Robert resolves immediately to keep a lookout for anything else that could ease his mind. Robots are more his forte, but he has his own network of human contacts as well. Maybe someone’s willing to switch shifts with Andy, or maybe someone knows a nanny who does overnights.
…He’s probably going to end up offering to Jody-watch anyway, if only to prevent her brother's kicked-puppy face from haunting the halls.
~
“Do you have your toothbrush, Jody?”
“Brother!” Jody protests, drawing herself up to her full (diminutive) height. “I'm not a baby anymore.”
Andy laughs, ruffling her hair. Jody’s cheeks puff out like a chipmunk’s, but she still holds her arms out for a great big hug.
“Goodnight Jody, Doctor,” says Andy, saluting them both as they depart for Robert’s home.
As honoured as he is that Andy trusts him with Jody, he can’t help but wonder if the added bonus of preventing more lab all-nighters had played any part in pushing Andy to concede him this role.
Robert’s flat is nothing fancy—a bachelor pad that could generously be called a hole-in-the-wall. Jody doesn’t seem to mind though, plopping down on his creaky couch like it’s already her second home.
He’s going to have to invest in a pull-out couch at some point, but for now he can sleep on the sofa and Jody can take his bed.
“No binging on movies, you hear?” he says, dumping his bag by the door. “Andy will kill me if I let you stay up late before school.”
“He wouldn’t kill you,” Jody says matter-of-factly. “He likes you too much for that.”
Jody shares her brother’s honesty, even if she might not wield it with quite as much tact. It’s what lets her words kindle in his chest like a hearth flame, warming in the knowledge that both of them feel as close to him as he does them.
He’s never planned for children, never even had any younger siblings to babysit, but three nights a week during Andy’s night shift this is what their routine becomes like. Jody is well-behaved despite her blunt attitude, smart as a whip, and he comes to look forward to the evenings spent helping her with homework or just watching mecha shows together until it’s time for bed.
He does eventually get that pull-out couch, though Jody insists on camping on it instead. She says she likes it better anyway, and “old people sleep better in their own proper bed”.
So he gives in. Not because he’s old, but because somewhere along the line she’s started calling him Uncle Rob instead of Doctor, and the combination of that and her puppy eyes (are those just a Summer thing?) really is very hard to ignore.
Andy still won’t call him anything other than Doctor or Doctor Stewart, but Robert will never forget the faint flush on his face the first time he hears Jody say Uncle Rob.