Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jack first noticed it when he showed up for the MCI. Robby reached for him, just collapsing into the hug, clingy in a way he was not. Like the fight had drained out of him for a second, even though the Pittfest patients hadn't even shown up yet. Like he was looking for any kind of comfort he could find. It was out of character. It was odd.

It stuck with Jack, through more than a hundred shooting patients, pulling up old knowledge, the kind burned into his brain under fire, sand in his mouth and heart in his throat.

It lingered at the back of his mind as Robby worked on a girl who was dead and gone but for the paperwork. Jack tried to tell him so—and he knew Robby heard him, even if he didn't listen—Robby avoiding his gaze, the line of his shoulders simultaneously defeated and defiant.

Until the defeat finally overtook the defiance. Quietly, achingly, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Robby often said that patients' families needed time. The families were coming in cold, no context for what was happening. They needed time to grasp it, to comprehend the idea of what could happen, when all the doctors and nurses knew it already had happened. It was like living in the future, Robby said. They knew the end of the story while the families were still picking up the book. He gave them that time—through extra tests or futile procedures or even his simple presence, steady and compassionate, as they fall apart before him.

With Leah, Robby was the one who needed time. Robby knew she was gone. He could say what he liked for everyone else; he knew. But he kept at it for himself, for Jake, maybe, to say he did everything he could. Giving himself time to come to terms with the fact that he would have to tell his kid that he couldn't save his girlfriend's life. So Jack didn't put his foot down, even though he was ER primary and he technically could have. Instead, he just reminded Robby of reality, making sure he knew that he wasn't alone in his judgment. And Jack gave Robby the time he always gave to everyone else.

Through it all, the memory of that hug haunted him, a hypothesis taking shape.

He tested it after Robby's speech to the staff, choked up and red-eyed, barely holding on. Jack clapped him on the back, feeling Robby lean into it, the slightest thing, but there.

Jack didn't touch him on the roof. Once he had Robby listening, he didn't want to destabilize the fragile peace he'd found. Not if it could go bad. So he let it be.

After, though. After, he kept thinking about it. Robby reaching for touch. Responding to his.

Jack knew Robby wasn't seeing anyone—his endless relationship fails were jokes at this point and he never hid when he was with someone. He didn't think Robby was out hooking up with women, either. Not just because he was a serial monogamist, although there was that, but just because Robby didn't seem to have the energy for it. Or the drive.

Which made Jack wonder if anyone touched Robby at all.

So the next time he came in and clocked that the board was a mess, he paused by Robby at a computer—hurriedly charting, glasses perched on the tip of his nose—and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

Robby stopped typing. He sucked in a breath, tension leaking out of his shoulders. Then he leaned into Jack's hand and looked up at him, something uncertain in his eyes.

Jack just shot him a half-smile and left his hand where it was. "Good times today?" he asked, dry.

"A party every minute," Robby shot back, falling into their banter by rote.

"Well, the fun police has arrived. You're welcome."

"You and 'police' in the same sentence is very funny," Robby drawled.

Jack huffed a laugh, once, squeezing his shoulder tighter. Robby's eyes flickered, like he couldn't concentrate on it all at once, focus honing in on the feeling over everything else.

And then Jack let him go.

Robby sagged a little, another tiny rush of air out. Jack pretended not to notice any of it even as it slid through him, his hypothesis gaining evidence, firming in his mind.

No, Jack didn't think anyone ever touched Robby.

He was going to change that.

***

It wasn't even a sex thing. Not that Jack would be opposed—given the decade-plus torch he'd been carrying, thankfully banked these days—but Robby was tragically straight, if utterly impossible to the women he attracted. And attract them he did with his big sad eyes, broad shoulders, and gentle nature. He was like a walking checklist of everything desired by educated, professional women. Hell, Jack even knew that he was great in bed thanks to Stephanie, the financial advisor Robby had dated for a hot second, who'd gotten charmingly tipsy at the holiday party and leaned in to Jack, lamenting that a man so good with his hands could be that emotionally distant. They'd broken up a week later. Jack hoped she'd gotten a few more orgasms out of it. Knowing Robby, she probably had.

So really, it wasn't a sex thing. Jack had made peace with all that. But they actually had very good data on the benefits of human touch—reducing pain, depression, and anxiety, calming cardiovascular stress, reducing cortisol, and releasing oxytocin, among many other things. The thing was, all those benefits weren't just from one touch; they came from consistent touch.

And, well. Jack knew all about consistency.

***

So he just...started touching Robby. Innocent things, unimpeachable—a hand to his shoulder, cuffing him on the arm, nudging against his body. Jack could tell it surprised Robby, but he always leaned into it, his face softening, storm clouds receding as his lips quirked up. Maybe a little puzzled, but not enough to ask and not enough to pull away. Jack took it as a good sign.

He read some studies on it in his free time. Because researchers were just complete nerds—a fact Jack was grateful for, truly—they actually had data on the most effective kinds of touch. Touches to the face and head were better than torso or body. It made sense since that was much more intimate, the problem being that touching Robby like that would definitely get noticed as odd. By Robby especially, but everybody else, too.

The neck, though. Robby liked to hunch over, make himself smaller. It was hell on his posture and Jack wanted to break him of that eventually, but for now, it actually served his purpose. Because it meant Jack could get a hand around the back of Robby's neck easy enough, giving him access to skin, fingers pressed to the chain of Robby's Star of David necklace, and that kind of thing wasn't too intimate for public consumption. Close, yes, but not inappropriate for two old buddies. So when Jack came in for the handover and found Robby sitting charting, he'd sling a hand over his shoulder and cup the back of his neck like he was just trying to get Robby's attention, no big deal.

Robby always leaned into it. And he seemed to be charting at the end of his shift more and more, which Jack took as wordless encouragement. As the days wore on, turning into weeks, he seemed a little calmer, evening out, maybe. It could be nothing—Jack seeing what he wanted to—but it could also be something.

Jack couldn't do much, really. But he could do this.

***

"Something I should know?" Dana asked the next time he arrived for shift change. She stood behind the central desk, glasses perched on her nose, expression telling him she already did and was not impressed. Nearby, Princess and Perlah looked between them, listening intently, always keen for doctor gossip.

It had been nearly two weeks since Jack started his little experiment; he was surprised she'd waited this long to call him on it. "You know the definition of insanity?" he asked her, light.

"I'm familiar," she deadpanned.

"Yeah, I'm trying the other way."

"Out of the goodness of your heart," she drawled, not a question. Which was Dana's way of asking if Jack was being a selfish asshole here. Not an unreasonable question, so he gave it a second to really consider.

Was he? Of course he wanted to be close to Robby, but he didn't have any expectations there. Robby exclusively dated women. That just...was what it was. But Jack did want to help him, if he could.

So he looked Dana straight-on and shrugged. "You know I'm not uninvested, but that's secondary. You saw what it was like during Pittfest. That can't happen again." Vaguely, Jack clocked Princess and Perlah frowning at each other, lost. He supposed this would be a baffling conversation from the outside. There was so much they weren't saying. After so many years working together, they didn't need to.

Dana softened. "Yeah. For what it's worth, I think you might be onto something."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, hearing the pleased lilt to his own voice. He'd thought it was helping, but he was biased. Dana had a better view of all of them. Too good a view, some days, but she was decent enough to keep everyone's secrets.

Her blue eyes regarded him seriously. "Just be careful. With yourself, too, you hear?"

Jack's lips curved up as he tsked. "Where's the fun in that?" But he shot her a look so she knew she was heard.

The flicker in her face said she got it. "Yeah, yeah. Fucking adrenaline junkie doctors," she groused, shaking her head a little, a few wisps of blond hair falling in her eyes.

"You love us," he drawled, teasing. "Where is Robby, anyway? He should be charting."

She nodded out to the ambulance bay. "Taking a breather. Some step-parents were battling it out all day. Think he wanted some peace."

Jack grinned. "Well, I should definitely disturb that."

***

He walked out the ambulance entrance, clocking some of the cleaning staff smoking, a couple nurses from surgery taking their break. So they had witnesses. Always good to be aware of that.

Jack finally spotted Robby, off as far as he could reasonably be and facing away from the chaos, hands cradling the back of his neck. It sent a pang of sympathy through Jack as he loped over.

"Here comes the General," he sing-drawled as he approached, Robby turning as soon as he heard his voice, hands lowering. "Rise up," he finished, hitting the 'p' just as he flung himself into Robby, pulling him into one of those manly, back-slapping hugs, unimpeachable from a distance.

Robby stuttered out an incredulous laugh, leaning into Jack's hug on instinct. "Are you quoting Hamilton?"

Jack quirked his lips as he pulled back slightly, keeping an arm slung over Robby's shoulders, leaning into his side. "Kid was singing it on my way in. And you recognized Hamilton, so really, who should be casting stones here?"

Robby scoffed. "You're ridiculous."

"But made you laugh. So: worth it."

Robby's look flickered to fond...and then he sharpened. "Wait, are you saying you're the General?" he asked, like he was ready to argue that point.

Jack nodded magnanimously. "You can call me Major."

"Major pain in my ass," Robby muttered.

"Not in front of the kids, honey, that's for private," Jack deadpanned.

At which Robby ducked his head and flushed. Delightful. Jack couldn't help his fond laugh, scrubbing his hand over the back of Robby's head, arm still slung across his shoulder. Robby wasn't moving to get away. "Whatcha still doing out here, man? I heard the step-parents bounced."

"I thought I should try to see some sunlight. Turns out, it's night," he said, wry.

"Got lost in it, huh?"

"Yeah," Robby said, stringing it out so it rolled around in his mouth, soft and breathy. "Hey, so. Uh." And then he faltered.

Jack cupped the back of his neck and squeezed, leaning into his side a little harder. Robby still didn't move away. "What's up?"

He glanced at Jack and then down again, his forehead crinkling. "I was thinking I should maybe—you know—talk to someone," he said, tentative, like he was just coming around to the idea, even though Jack had offered it up over a month ago.

Relief swept Jack, so strong it took him by surprise. He hadn't realized how much that weighed on him. But he kept it off his face and out of his voice as he said, "That's great, man. You want Stan's number?"

Robby looked over and held it this time, Jack's hand still cupping the back of his neck. "Yeah, if it's okay."

Jack tipped his head. "He said he can't treat you because of the conflict, but he's got a referral that he thinks would be right. You should talk to him about it."

"The conflict," Robby echoed, something flickering in his eyes. "You talk to Stan about me?" he asked, surprise bleeding all over it now, like he couldn't imagine.

Jack shot him an obvious look. "You're my boss and my best friend, how is this news?"

"Oh, your boss," Robby mocked.

"My boss who I offer my great wisdom and impress and order around. That's how bosses work, right?"

Robby smiled a little, something Jack didn't recognize flashing in his eyes. "Seems so."

Jack squeezed his neck once more and pulled back, nodding him to the hospital. "C'mon. Catch me up."

***

Jack texted him Stan's number. And then texted Stan that Robby might be calling. Both sent him little thumbs-up responses.

It was what he could do.

***

Robby didn't say anything about it, so Jack let it lie for another week, doing what had become their usual routine—Robby charting more at the end of his days, updating him while sitting, Jack slinging a casual arm over his shoulder for the few minutes it took, projecting no big deal for the world at large.

But as Robby stood to go, Jack decided to push it. He nudged Robby with his elbow, Robby locking in on him, attentive. "Did you ever give Stan a call?" he asked, keeping it breezy, no pressure.

Robby went a little softer, still tentative about this. "Yeah, actually. I'm meeting with the guy he recommended tomorrow." On his day off.

More relief rushed through Jack at the news. "That's awesome, brother," he said, nudging him again.

Robby nudged him back even as his expression went wry. "We'll see about that."

***

Their schedules were misaligned for a few days, so the next time Jack saw him was when he was going off shift, Robby coming on for the day. It was the middle of the week, so the night wasn't too much of a bear, just the usual backup because of boarders.

After he'd run down the notable cases, Jack looked at Robby expectantly, nudging him. "And?"

To anyone else it would probably be nonsensical, but they'd always had a whole parallel running conversation, separate and apart from the work. So Robby knew exactly what he was asking. He shrugged, but he didn't have that air of desperation that had become so familiar. "Yeah, it's—he's okay. Gene," he added, so that Jack knew. "Guy's either sixty or immortal, it's hard to tell."

Jack nodded, filing the information away. "You like him?"

Robby took a moment with it. "Yeah," he finally said. "He treats a lot of healthcare workers. Seems like he gets it." Then he went a little more resigned. "He immediately called out my bullshit, so that's probably a good sign."

"Gene," Jack drawled in approval. "Man after my own heart. You make your next appointment?"

"Yes, Major," Robby said, drawing it out so much it was bitchy.

It shivered through Jack, though he made sure not to show it. "That's Major Pain in the Ass, to you," he corrected.

"Don't I know it," Robby grumbled.

***

"Why are you happy?" Parker asked the next night, in the usual 0200 lull, both of them charting and quiet with it, Lena checking in with the ICU nurses.

Jack frowned. "I'm not," he said...and then paused. "I see the trap you set there."

"And fell right into," she drawled. "You're losing your edge, old man."

"Hey now," he said at the 'old man' thing, looking over at her.

"And you totally are. Happy," she added, studying him, brown eyes sharp. "Seeing someone?" she guessed, like she was puzzling it out.

The problem with ED doctors was they were trained to look for root causes. And Parker was an excellent doctor.

"Really, Parker? You want to hear about me getting my dick sucked?" She'd made her feelings on such talk quite clear.

Her eyes narrowed, like he'd just admitted something. "Nice try. So not seeing someone. Something's making you happy, though," she pointed out. Then she added, quieter, "It's a good thing." Her tone said she'd leave it, but she wanted him to know.

Jack let the quiet settle around them, now distracted. Because dammit, Parker knew him too well. He was happy. Robby was doing better and seeing a therapist and just—

It was good.

But. Jack was an ED doctor, too. An excellent one. He'd trained in looking for root causes, just like everyone else. And now that she'd asked the question—

The benefits of touch, he realized. Reducing pain, depression, anxiety, calming cardiovascular stress, reducing cortisol, releasing oxytocin...he'd applied it all to Robby. But Jack was human, too. And it'd been more than a month.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling the truth of it, totally unexpected. He was happy Robby was doing better, yes. But he was also doing better. He'd gone into this expecting nothing from it except to help. Insisting that helping Robby was all it could be. And now he'd gotten something out of it, too.

It wasn't a bad thing. It was good, actually. A mutually-beneficial dynamic. Something about it tingled down his spine, though, like he could justify it when it was just helping Robby, but if it became selfish, that was something else.

But that was irrelevant. It was helping Robby, which was the only thing that mattered. So he'd just...set the other stuff aside.

***

Three nights later, Jack walked in to a more subdued ED than normal. A glance at the board showed it looked okay, so the vibe was odd. He looked a question to Dana, wondering.

As always, she read him perfectly. "Three littles in a row. Hit and run, chemical overdose, fall down the stairs. He tried." She shook her head, like, what can you do? And the answer, some days, was nothing but bear witness.

"The roof?" he guessed.

"Got it in one."

***

Robby was hunched over, the light dying around him, like he was personally smothering it with the pain screaming out of every line of his body. Kids always got him, every time. From the first patient to die on him straight through to now, kids gone too soon haunted Robby.

Jack headed over, not saying anything—because there was nothing to fucking say. Robby didn't turn to him even though he must have heard his approach, so Jack reached out.

Cupping the back of his neck did get attention, Robby turning to look at him, his entire face etched in pain. At sight of it, Jack tugged—

Robby didn't even resist, just kind of collapsed into a hug, feeling like Pittfest again. Only this time, Robby didn't pull away. He tucked himself against Jack's shoulder, his arms gripping him tight.

Jack let out a slow breath, gripping him back as realization pulsed through him...this felt good. It was a stupid thought, obvious—of course a hug felt good, that was why people did it—but somehow it felt revelatory.

So the torch he'd been carrying might be a little less banked than he'd thought.

Unbidden, Dana's words came to him. Questioning whether he was doing it for himself. Telling him to be careful.

Dana always did see too much.

Dimly, Jack realized this was no longer a hug. A hug was a brief thing, time-limited. This had turned into something else. Holding each other, he realized.

Fuck, it felt so good.

He probably shouldn't do this. Clearly he still had some traitorous hope in him, buried so deep even he hadn't known. But Jack spent so much of his life being strong, doing the hard thing, the pillar for everyone around him. He wasn't strong enough to pull away from this. If Robby wanted this comfort from him, he would give it. And he'd be grateful.

No matter if it made something twinge in his chest, want waking up.

That was irrelevant. This was a good thing he'd never expected. It was enough.

***

Jack didn't even know how long they'd stayed that way. Long minutes, at minimum, until Robby took a shuddering breath, squeezed him tighter, and then pulled back. They'd walked down together, not talking about it. Not talking about anything until they got to central and then it was like a switch flipped, normal handoff.

They never talked about it.

And things just...went back to normal. Their usual pattern of catch-ups and handoffs, Jack still cupping the back of Robby's neck when he could get away with it, easy and casual.

Even as the want squeezed in his chest, a pressure that could never know release.

But it was fine. Robby was doing better, the lines in his face softer.

It was worth it.

***

"Oh, thank god," Dana muttered at sight of Jack. "You deal with him."

That boded well. "Another harmonious day here in the Pitt?" he drawled, leaning against the counter.

"He's been doing his best impression of a threenager drunk on power all day. Snapping at Gloria, snapping at nurses, he even snapped at Mel."

"How do you do that?" Jack idly asked. The moment you tried, Mel would deflate liked a kicked puppy and you'd feel like shit.

"By saying, 'I don't have time to indulge this, Dr. King,'" Dana shot back, a passable impression of Robby's impatient voice.

"Dick," Jack muttered.

"Yeah. Go get your boy, would you, please?" she said, blue eyes looking at him pointedly.

Jack tensed. "Why do I feel like I'm getting blamed for this? I didn't do anything."

Dana leveled him with a stare. "Really."

Jack huffed. Dammit. "I'll go talk to him. Which escape route?"

Dana gestured skyward. "He learned from the best."

***

Robby was, indeed, on the roof, though he was thankfully inside the railing. His posture was tense, like he was about ready to vibrate out of his skin, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, back straight.

Fucking great.

Jack ambled over, keeping his steps quiet, not saying anything. Robby still turned when he got close, actually looking back—

Which gave Jack the access to hook a hand around the back of his neck and pull him into a rough hug. After all, it had worked last time.

This time, Robby resisted for an instant—

And then he just folded, bringing his forehead to Jack's shoulder again, breathing out there as his body relaxed. Jack got his other arm around his broad shoulders, just holding him, feeling his torso expand with every breath. Something comforting in that. Jack just let it be that for a long moment, enjoying Robby's warmth.

Since Robby didn't seem inclined to speak, Jack kicked them off. "How you doing there, brother?"

Robby huffed a bitter laugh—because he knew that Jack already knew—and kind of shook his head against Jack's shoulder. "Therapy is fucking bullshit, you know."

Jack squeezed the back of his neck. "It really is. It's infuriating that it actually works because it means you have to keep going."

Robby made a frustrated noise and stepped back, turning away from Jack, looking out at the darkening city, distant lights starting to blink on. He set his hands on his hips, his defiant posture. "Gene's just—he's making me look at shit that I don't want to look at," he insisted, voice heated. "There's a reason I don't look there."

Jack leaned against the railing. "Been there," he said, soft.

Robby shot a quick look to him, something measuring in it, before he glanced away again. "Did Stan back off when you told him to?"

Jack just laughed.

"Fuck," Robby growled, elongating it, just...mad.

"The only way out is through," Jack said, putting sympathy in it.

"I would like another way out," Robby said crisply, like a demand to the world.

"Man, wouldn't we all," he drawled, dry. "But you're not getting it, so it's time to sack up and get over yourself."

Robby breathed out, some of the fight draining from him. "I hate this," he said, a kind of plea to it.

And oh, Jack felt that, hated it for him. But they were all on their own journeys and he couldn't walk Robby's for him.

So he just clapped his hand on Robby's shoulder and said, "I know."

***

Robby calmed down after that. He returned to central with Jack, did the handoff, and proceeded to apologize to everyone for being a total dick.

Dana shot Jack an approving look, though there was a kind of reservation in it he didn't want to know about. So he didn't ask.

And then things returned to normal. Even if something lingered at the back of Jack's mind, the sense of a problem delayed, not done.

Jack left it alone. There was no use poking the bear.

***

The days progressed. Robby didn't have any more outbursts, but he got quieter. He always leaned into Jack's touch, though, so he took that as a good sign. His air of desperation had almost totally disappeared, like he'd put some things to bed, and it eased some of Jack's own tension.

And if the frustrated want was there, simmering under the surface, well. That was just he price he paid.

It was still worth it.

***

It didn't go away, though, so Jack finally gave in and hopped back on Grindr. Guys were easy and Pittsburgh was a big enough scene that it took no time to find what he was looking for.

Ryan was a little taller than Jack with broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, and a short beard, flecked with gray. They had precisely one drink and then Jack took him home and let Ryan pound him into the mattress. It was just the right side of rough, Ryan nailing his prostate perfectly, and it wiped Jack's mind clean of what he wanted, what he couldn't have.

Jack came with his face buried in a pillow, determinedly not crying out for anyone. After, Ryan promptly pulled on his clothes and bailed—basically the dream.

He showered off Ryan's scent, changed the sheets, and put himself to bed, body sated, ass pleasantly used.

And Jack still wanted.

Fuck.

***

And so the days rolled on. Robby got a little brighter, which was a consolation, smiling when Jack showed up for handoff, something small and new. Fond, he thought, but tinged with something else.

Jack didn't understand it, but was just happy to see Robby in a good place, so he quirked his lips back and leaned in. It was enough.

***

Robby had had a two-day break, so Jack was looking forward to seeing him on their next handoff. He showed up to an ED that was humming along, all good vibes, no Robby to be found. He raised an eyebrow at Dana.

"He's in a weird mood," she said, making a face.

"Weird bad?"

"Don't think so. Never seen this one. You tell me if you have," she said, gesturing up to the roof.

"Copy that," Jack murmured, already turning for the roof. Curious now.

***

Robby was leaning over the railing, elbows braced there, so it was an easy thing for Jack to cup the back of his neck and squeeze, pressing close.

He breathed out and dropped his head, his body relaxing under Jack's hand like it always did, the very picture of submission. And Robby was not a passive man. He was always giving, teaching, ordering, correcting, encouraging—forever leading, no matter what it cost him. He didn't take—not a compliment, not comfort, and certainly not solace. Except here. From Jack.

He tried not to let himself think too much about that.

Then Robby lifted his head and looked out again. "I should say—I just." His words faltered, Robby flailing around, Jack not following it, but trusting that he'd get there. Then Robby cleared his throat. "I like that," he finally managed. Robby's profile showed a hint of his determined expression, like he was making himself say it.

Therapy homework floated through Jack's mind, no idea why, but it felt right. Robby talking about his feelings, saying what he liked. He wouldn't do that without a push. Gene must be working on something with him. Being open with people, maybe. Open was good.

"I like it, too," Jack said, like it could be that simple. It could, he supposed. If they decided it was.

Robby audibly swallowed. "...why?" he asked, small, not looking at Jack.

Jack sucked in a breath, not expecting him to push it. He considered how much to say. Certainly not the full truth; that would be way too much pressure. "I don't know," he decided on, keeping it mild and unbothered. "You feel good to me. I figure that's enough."

"Yeah," Robby said, rough, like agreement.

Jack wanted him to say more, to get specific. Was that general agreement or did Jack feel good to him, too?

But asking that would also be too much pressure, too much attached to it, so Jack left it alone.

It'd keep.

***

Another few days and Robby's weird mood dissipated, gone contemplative, maybe. Jack figured it was better than brooding, so he shrugged it off, looking forward to his weekend off. A whole weekend with no improbable sex injuries or drunken tragedies. It was like a gift.

As Robby handed off to him, he leaned against the counter, pausing before he went. "You know, the Pens have a big game tomorrow."

Robby was off, too, Jack realized. Interesting.

"They're going to lose and I'm going to be grumpy about it," Jack said with a sigh.

"Want to be grumpy with a friend?" Robby asked, light, but holding his gaze.

And that was Robby asking. It ticked Jack's heart rate up for some reason he couldn't name. "Always. My place? Little before 7? I can get pizza."

Robby knocked his fist against the counter, lips curving up like he'd gotten something he wanted. "Sounds good."

***

Robby wore jeans and a soft gray sweater that Jack itched to touch and tried not to look at. They ate the pizza and drank Jack's excellent beer and yelled at the TV and Jack was, indeed, grumpy.

It was better with a friend.

After the game, Robby relaxed deeper into the L-shaped couch. He was on the long L-side, his socked feet kicked up, body stretched out, sinking heavily into the cushions as Jack flipped to a channel showing the Sharks game. A nice reminder that there were worse teams out there; they didn't have it that bad, as lackluster as the Pens were.

Robby got quiet, full of pizza and beer, coming off three in a row. Jack was not even a little bit surprised when he nodded off, body slumping sideways—

Into Jack. Robby didn't wake, just kind of huffed something soft and nestled into Jack's shoulder, getting comfortable.

He should move and let him really lie down, so he didn't hurt his neck.

Instead, Jack stayed right where he was, lowering the TV volume and reveling in Robby's warmth, the weight of his body against Jack's, his breath puffing softly against his shoulder through his sweater. He let himself feel the rightness of it, of having Robby against him, even if it was just this.

It was maybe a little pathetic, but whatever. Jack liked it. That was enough.

***

When the truly abysmal Sharks game was almost done, Robby woke on a sucked-in breath, going from unconscious to conscious in a snap. He froze, realizing he was pressed up against Jack, something deeply intimate in that, despite its innocence.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Jack drawled, putting some lightness in it, letting him know it was okay. "Feel better?"

Robby relaxed, not moving away. Interesting. "A little. Sorry."

"Don't start with that," Jack groused, nudging against his body, tone telling him it was okay.

"Time is it?" Robby asked, muzzy.

"A little after midnight. The Sharks are getting destroyed, which is, paradoxically, making me feel better."

Robby huffed his amusement, looking at the TV for a moment, before looking back at Jack. "You let me sleep for over two hours?" he asked, a little faint. He still hadn't moved away.

Jack shrugged. "Seemed like you needed it. And I didn't want to move."

Robby took a breath, something careful in it. "Yeah," he said after a moment, rubbing his hand over his face. Trying to wake up, maybe. Hiding, maybe.

After a moment he dropped his hand and sighed, leaning into Jack again. Jack leaned back, a nonverbal I'm here, hopefully reassuring.

Robby swallowed, something thick in it. He looked over at Jack. "I've kind of been thinking about you. Since Pittfest," he said, like he was admitting a secret he'd been keeping close, warm and safe. And now he wanted to share it.

Jack stilled, something leaping in his chest, that long-buried hope sparking. "Yeah?" he asked, keeping it light.

"...yeah," he confirmed, not backing away from it. And there was only one way to interpret that, only one way you'd mean that, when you were the two of them.

"I'm guessing that's a new thing," Jack said, trying to regulate his breathing, the pulse pulse pulse of his heart. He had to be so careful with this. To balance what he wanted, what he'd always wanted, with where Robby was at.

Robby snorted. "No shit," he said, gruff. "Not quite sure what that's about. I'm fifty-three years old," he muttered, like it was ridiculous.

"That a problem for you?" Jack asked, trying to figure out the shape of this.

Robby waved a frustrated hand. "Shouldn't it be?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno, man. It seems to me you're not living if you're not still learning. And what better thing to learn about than yourself."

Robby looked at him, frank. "But—I've never wanted—" He waved a hand vaguely in Jack's direction. So that confirmed that. But Robby was still speaking: "And then Pittfest comes along and suddenly I'm—" He gestured to himself, exasperated.

Jack mused that if Robby could have this entire conversation in hand gestures, he might just.

But hey, if that got him through it.

"It seems to me that when people have their foundations shattered—not just a bad day, but their world fucking rocked—it opens up...possibility," he offered, slow. "So many people have these mid-life crises because they picked a lane and are haunted by the idea of, well, what if they'd picked a different one? But when you face crisis and everything is different, it makes it easier to think that everything can be different. So yeah, you're fifty-three. You picked a lane back in the day. But everything's different now. You can be different, if you want."

Robby stared at him, like he didn't even know who he was. "Thought about this, have you," he drawled, dry.

Jack kicked out with his bum leg. "Losing a part of yourself tends to shatter your self-concept. Makes you rethink some things."

"Did it?" Robby asked, watching him, seemingly transfixed. They'd never talked about this, Jack realized. It wasn't exactly casual conversation.

"Shatter me? Make me rethink everything? Yeah. I am not the same person as before this." Jack shook his head, thinking back on it. How young he'd been. How stupidly certain when he barely knew anything at all. "I kind of lost my shit at first."

Robby blinked. "You're the most controlled person I know."

"Sure, when I'm not losing my damn mind because it turns out I had all these unconscious ideas about what a man is, all wrapped up in what a man does, and when you can't even stand in the shower anymore that house of cards comes tumbling down real quick. I was just...so angry. I didn't even know I could be that angry. But in my mind, I had become less than a man, less than human, so what was the point of it all?" he drawled, putting implication in it that he knew Robby would hear.

His expression flickered, Robby nodding in understanding.

"Thankfully, I found a therapist who kicked my ass for thinking worth or masculinity or whatever is defined by what you can do. It took me a minute, but I finally came around to the idea that there are things I straight-up can never do, but that says absolutely nothing about who I am as a person. And frankly, I'm a better person than that dumb kid running around, holding all these ideas because he just never had to think about anything too deeply." He gestured to himself, wry. "Growth."

Robby smiled, so much warmth there. "I like this you," he offered, endlessly kind in that way he was.

Jack grinned. "Fuck yeah, I'm awesome. My point is, you're fifty-three, so fucking what? You were at one place until Pittfest. Now you're in another. It changed you. You didn't look too deeply at something before; now you are. That's okay. That's life. What matters is making the most of it."

Robby swallowed, like it was hard. Like it hurt. "What if I don't know how to do that?" he asked, so very soft.

"Then you reach out to the people around you," Jack said, just as soft.

A mulish expression flashed over Robby's face. "But I don't know what that looks like. How to actually get from here to there," he admitted, which wasn't a small thing, Robby admitting vulnerability.

So Jack decided to make it easier on him. "Want to test it out?" he asked, keeping it deliberately casual, no big deal. "You know, no pressure." Even as Jack felt the pressure in his chest, at this thing he never thought possible, at what he wanted from it.

Robby locked onto him. "Test it out," he echoed, flat, but his skin was flushing lightly.

Jack couldn't help his smile at sight of it. "Robby...are you blushing?" he teased, delighted.

Robby groaned and covered his face with his hands. "No. Not me. Can't imagine who you mean."

"Are you an actual blushing virgin right now?" Jack asked, grinning outright. Even the tips of his ears were red.

Robby dropped his hands. "Hey," he warned, like that was a bridge too far, even as his skin was still bright red, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Exactly." Jack nodded, leaning in, pressing firmer against Robby's side, warmth seeping between them. "You've been doing this for going on forty years. And I have it on good authority that you've got some skills."

Robby's breath caught as that idea distracted him. "What?"

Jack had never told Robby about Stephanie and it was so worth it to see the look on his face now. "I try to be a gentleman about these things, but at the holiday party Stephanie had some things to say about those hands of yours, my friend."

If possible, Robby flushed even brighter. "She didn't."

"She really liked that shitty Chardonnay," Jack pointed out.

"She did like that shitty Chardonnay," Robby echoed with a dull kind of realization. "I'm deeply conflicted."

"Because one part of you feels violated, but the other, bigger part wants to know every single thing she said?" he guessed.

"It's like you know me," Robby drawled, dry.

"I do know you," Jack said, going a little more serious. He reached out—slow, giving him time to pull away if he wanted—pressing a hand to Robby's jaw, letting him feel it. "So I know that however this goes, we're gonna be fine," he said, voice going low as he leaned even closer, feeling the truth of that, even if he didn't get what he wanted. He'd resigned himself to that years ago, after all. So Jack held there, letting Robby feel the inches between them, that heady moment before a kiss.

Robby went a little helpless. "How do you do this?" he murmured, like he was marveling, and then he leaned in the rest of the way.

Hardly believing it could go like this, Jack kissed him slow and sweet, tilting his head just right as he slid their mouths together. He cupped Robby's jaw, his beard soft under his fingers and against his face as Jack pressed their mouths together harder, heat slipping through him, followed by a rush of certainty so clear it stole his breath. The small noise Robby made against his mouth, hand pressing to Jack's chest, clinched it.

Still, he pulled back to check, finding Robby's eyes heavy-lidded, the kind of sleepy that said sex. He was still flushed. It sent a little zing through him, even as he quirked his lips and offered, "Thoughts?"

Robby blinked a couple times, like he was trying to get his brain back online. "Fuck," he said, low and precise.

Jack tried not to grin, though the fondness in Robby's face said he was probably failing at that. "Gonna need a little more here, man. That could go either way."

"God, this is going to be so annoying," Robby grumbled as he got a hand around the back of Jack's neck and pulled him back in. "Get over here."

Jack laughed into the kiss, their mouths open this time, tongues sliding together, the kiss going deep and real and hot. Lust burned through Jack as Robby groaned into his mouth, tilting Jack's head how he liked, firm and sure. That was its own kind of turn-on, Robby taking what he wanted, kissing Jack with single-minded devotion. His fingers scraped over Jack's jaw, feeling his stubble, no way to mistake him for anything other than a man. It made him moan into the kiss, heat pulsing through him with every heartbeat, sweat already springing up and they'd barely even touched.

Robby sought to fix that, fisting a hand in Jack's sweater and pulling him in. He was still draped over the couch, his long legs stretched out, so Jack planted a hand in the cushion beside him and braced himself so he could slide over into Robby's lap. Jack was already half-hard in his jeans and the feeling of Robby's hard thighs underneath him did not help matters. The sense of unreality hadn't faded—this was actually happening?—but he fought through it, sinking into Robby's mouth.

Robby broke the kiss to look up at him, a little wild-eyed, obviously turned on. He nodded once. "Better." Then he sat up and took Jack's mouth, hands stealing under his sweater and seeking skin.

Jack gasped at the heat that streaked through him, clever fingers teasing up the bumps of his spine, like Robby was playing. Robby huffed a laugh into his mouth, hands pushing his sweater up, pulling out of the kiss to strip it off, then just looking at him.

He ghosted light fingers from Jack's sternum to his navel, eyes wide. "Why are you like this?" he said, a lament but hardly a complaint.

Jack smirked. "For this exact moment. You like?"

"Annoying," Robby said again, echoing himself from earlier, like he despaired. But he still pulled Jack close again, his tongue sweeping into Jack's mouth, all easy and hot. Because Robby really had been kissing for almost forty years; he knew how to do this.

Jack kissed him back, letting it get dirty and fierce, Robby meeting his mouth over and over again, not backing down. It fueled the lust, Jack tugging at Robby's sweater, wanting to feel skin, wanting to burn with him everywhere.

Robby made a wanting sort of noise and sat up enough to let Jack strip the sweater off. Jack scratched through Robby's dark chest hair, fingers tangling in his Star of David necklace, but before he could really explore, he felt strong hands on his thighs—

Then Jack was falling, Robby actually flipping him sideways, dumping him on his back on the couch, then promptly crawling on top of him. The easy manhandling was so hot it stole his breath, Jack making a desperate sort of sound.

It made Robby pull up short, hovering over him, all flushed and dark-eyed, caution rising now. "You okay?"

"Never recovering from how hot this is, but yes, all good, charlie mike." He reached for Robby—

Who stayed planted over him, not moving, amusement leaking into his eyes. "It's just Mike, actually."

"And you say I'm annoying," he huffed, leaning up to grab his shoulder and hauling him down, body splayed on top of Jack's, delicious. "It's continue mission, you absolute asshole," he said, biting at Robby's mouth.

Robby made a mocking sort of noise, even as he scrambled to align their bodies, the heavy heat of him going straight to Jack's head. "Oh, so I'm your mission, am I?" Robby drawled, thrusting their hips together, Robby's cock hard against his.

And that shot straight through him, proof that this was going to work. Literal hard proof, as it were.

"Right now you are," Jack muttered, breathless, rubbing up against him, sparks sliding everywhere. He leaned up for Robby's mouth, reveling in the feel of Robby's chest against his, his Star of David necklace tickling as they kissed and figured out how to move together, hands mapping each other all the while. Robby was big and solid, everyday muscle from moving people in the ED, all under warm skin and a layer of civilian softness that made Jack inexplicably fond.

It went from fumbling and exploratory to frantic, Jack scraping his nails down Robby's arms and back, Robby biting his bottom lip, the bright bloom of pain somehow making it better.

But it also shook Jack out of it, making him realize—fuck—they were doing this. Here, now, racing forward, propelled by lust and instinct, automatically in sync like they always were. And suddenly Jack didn't want to get ahead of themselves, caution rising, regardless of what his cock was screaming at him.

"Wait, wait," Jack said, sounding breathless and turned on, even to his own ears.

Robby instantly stilled his hips, eyes wide with concern, like something might be wrong. "What?"

Jack licked his lips and just said it: "We do this, you can't leave after. Even if you're freaked, you know? That's what—I need you to not bail."

Robby stared at him, so much flickering through his eyes. "I don't want to run away."

Yeah, now, while his cock was hard and want subsumed all sense.

"But if you do," Jack pressed.

Robby tipped his head, expression going soft. He pressed light fingers to the corner of Jack's eyes, almost reverent. "I won't bail."

Good enough. "Okay, c'mere." Jack pulled him back down and into a kiss, thrusting up against Robby deliberately, both of them moaning as they found their rhythm again, desire suffusing everything.

It was hot—way hotter than dry humping should be—Robby breaking the kiss to press their foreheads together, panting against Jack's mouth like another kind of kiss. Jack could feel him everywhere, his weight bearing down, their sweat mixing, his scent wrapped all around him—clean soap and beard oil and something indelibly Robby. He'd never be able to smell Robby again without thinking of this. Which meant no more pulling him in at work; he'd get all turned on and people would notice.

But hell, maybe if they got this, he wouldn't have to pull Robby in at work.

Robby gripped one of Jack's thighs and moved him, getting a better angle to grind against him, making Jack moan aloud. From the pleasure, yes—hot, drugging pleasure that had him going out of his mind—but also from Robby just taking what he wanted. "Yeah, Robby," he panted. "Use me how you want."

Robby shuddered against him, biting at his neck. "Don't say shit like that," he rumbled, voice like silk.

"So fucking good," he said, gripping Robby's hair to bring him back again, their mouths connecting on instinct now, kissing long and deep as they rocked together, pleasure flaring with every roll of their hips. So good Jack felt it at the base of his spine, in his balls; he could come like this if they didn't stop.

Somehow, Jack found the capacity for coherent thought. "Is this—you want it like this?" he asked, voice just shot—gravelly and rough and sounding like sex.

"Do not fucking stop," Robby ordered, something about that going right to Jack's cock. He kissed Jack messy and open, hips snapping against Jack's, his braced arms trembling. He was close, Jack realized, and suddenly all he wanted was to make it good for Robby—hot and satisfying, so he'd never want to stop.

Jack scratched his hand over Robby's chest, tweaking a nipple, getting a groan. He grabbed Robby's ass, pulling him down harder, the kiss faltering as Robby gasped.

"Yeah, Mike," he murmured, low and inviting. "Come against me."

Robby's hips snapped forward and then he shuddered all over, coming in long pulses. Jack could only stare as pleasure rushed over his face, Robby's eyes fluttering closed, the lines around them softening as he lost himself to it. Jack's name on his lips was like a prayer to some ancient god, breathy and reverent, unconstrained. It reached into his chest, expanding and squeezing at once; he might be a god if he could do this, make Robby look like this, like he was seeing something holy.

And then Robby was released from it, body going slack, eyes focusing on Jack again, soft and sated. This was Robby freshly fucked. And he was beautiful, too.

"Fuck," he murmured, leaning up to kiss over his still-flushed cheeks, to his panting mouth. Robby kissed back, slow and searching, before he pulled back, a question in his eyes. "What?" Jack prompted, encouraging.

"I want to touch you," Robby said, his voice suggestive for all that Jack knew he wasn't trying to be sexy. Maybe that was what made it so hot.

Lust flooded him, Jack's cock pressing tight against the confines of his jeans, sticky and insistent, Robby still between his thighs, making everything desperate. "Fuck yeah," he said, like there was any world where the answer was something else.

Robby snorted and pushed himself over, the couch deep enough that he could rest on his side, half-sprawled over Jack, but with enough room to get at Jack's jeans. His hands were steady as he undid Jack's belt, then the jeans. Robby didn't hesitate, his lips turned up at the corners, like he was unwrapping a present. That more than anything reassured Jack that this would be okay. They were going to work.

Robby cupped Jack's cock through his boxer briefs and for all that Jack knew this was his first time, it wasn't awkward. Robby went at it eagerly, with relish, his face a mixture of curiosity and delight, enjoying this. He tugged Jack's underwear out of the way, enough to get his cock out, Robby's big hand stroking it slowly, almost thoughtful. It sizzled through Jack, both the sight and the feel, the concentration on Robby's face almost as hot as his exploring hand.

Almost. "Fuck, Robby," Jack groaned, fucking up into his fist automatically, the pleasure of it a burn at the edge of his vision.

Robby looked from his hand to Jack's face. "Yeah?" he asked, like he was making sure.

"Perfect," he said, holding Robby's eyes to show he meant it.

Something victorious flashed there and then Robby grinned, a little wicked, before he leaned down to lick at Jack's mouth. "I want to watch you come." And he gripped his hand, so tight it was just on this side of painful, stripping Jack's cock hard and fast.

"Fuck!" Jack cried out, voice cracking a little on it. He gripped Robby's arm, feeling the muscles flexing—so hot—and let himself fuck up shamelessly. Robby sometimes twisting on the upstroke, sometimes gliding his palm over the head, precome slicking his hand. His other hand tugged at his balls or explored Jack's body—scraping nails over nipples, tracing freckles, fingering the cut of his hip—all while watching Jack. Warm brown eyes saw everything, taking Jack in like he was the study materials and Robby planned to ace the final.

It had been a long time since someone took such pleasure in looking and it sent a rush of heat through Jack, wholly aside from Robby's hand, working him just right.

"I knew you'd be like this," Robby murmured, eyes alight as he watched, and that was all it took, Jack coming on his gasped name, a lightning rush down his spine, the burn of pleasure in its wake pulsing out, Robby stroking him through it with a fervent, "Yeah."

It shot another little pulse through him, even that unbelievably hot, Jack sucking wind as his heart raced, stilling Robby's hand, too much.

Robby eased off, releasing him slowly, mouthing over his jaw on his way to a kiss, open and lush, satisfied. He pulled back to look down at their bodies, still half-clothed, Jack's come a mess over his stomach and Robby's hand. Robby raised that hand—

And licked at the come on his fingers, curiosity in his face. Something promptly imploded at the base of Jack's skull, that sight too hot to be real. Robby wasn't even trying to titillate, either, he was genuinely just wondering, Jack could tell. Which only made it hotter.

"Never going to recover," he muttered again because fuck.

Robby refocused on him, smugness leaking into his face. "I like how it's my first time, but I'm blowing your mind."

"Totally justified." Jack yawned and stretched out as much as he could while still half-under Robby. "C'mon. Bed."

***

Jack found Robby some old, stretched-out sleep pants and a threadbare shirt to wear, sending him off to clean up in the ensuite. He wiped himself down perfunctorily, then changed into his own sleep pants and shirt before opening up the bed, tossing pillows aside, pulling the comforter down.

He heard Robby return, surprised by the arms that snuck around him, pulling him back against Robby's chest. Jack leaned into it, letting Robby take some of his weight, liking that he could. "You good?" he asked as Robby kissed his neck, wanting to check. The very ease of it somehow worrisome.

Robby angled around to meet his eyes. "Yeah, Jack," he said, soft. "I'm good." Then he leaned in to kiss him, a warm press of lips, slow and sweet—connection and affection, Jack thought. Not meant to turn him on.

Oh, Robby was a romantic. The thought kind of stunned him a little. But—serial monogamist, it made sense, even if Jack had never connected that to himself, not really. It was a paradigm shift to think he could now.

Then Robby was nudging him down into bed, following after. But neither of them were passive men. They both tried to curl around the other, legs and arms tangling in a bad way, Jack getting an elbow to the chest, his knee knocking against Robby's, a pain he could feel all the way to his teeth.

Robby stilled with a frustrated noise. "Would you just let me be the big spoon? Jesus fuck."

Jack burst out laughing. He slumped to the bed and gestured Robby on, giving in. Robby manhandled him until he was curving around Jack, a hand over his waist, breath at the back of his neck. Jack hadn't been the little spoon in ages—the guys he fucked didn't actually stay over—so he marveled at the feeling. As he settled down, that sense of rightness swamped him again, his heart rate slowing, satisfaction rushing through him.

He could be the little spoon.

***

Movement woke Jack in the middle of the night, the sense of the bed shifting, sheets pulling, warmth receding. He looked over in the dim light glowing from the edges of the curtains, spotting Robby's shape just sitting up.

Jack pressed a hand to his back and made a questioning noise, concern rising.

Robby covered his hand, squeezing once. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, voice rumbly in the best kind of way. "Except to get some water."

Jack hmmed acknowledgment and settled back down, letting himself float in the relief of it. That had been working at the back of his mind, he realized, even though Robby had promised.

Robby padded out of the bedroom, Jack dimly hearing a cupboard opening in the distance. Fondness swept through him at the idea of Robby rustling through his kitchen, treating it as his own. He liked that.

Then Robby was back, two glasses of water on the bedside table, crawling back into bed. He sprawled against Jack again, nuzzling into his neck, breathing deep, like he was savoring it. And even though he hadn't slept with anyone like this since Lizzie, all wrapped up, Jack still drifted off, riding the contentment of it.

***

Jack woke with the dawn—unusual for him, his sleep schedule was gonna be fucked, but whatever. He turned to take Robby in—

He was awake and watching Jack, eyes soft, the lines in his forehead smoothed out, no worries gathering there. Maybe that was what woke Jack, the sense of eyes on him. Or maybe it was just Robby.

"How's your gay awakening?" Jack threw out, figuring they might as well get to it.

Robby shot him a sparkling sort of look, eyes so warm. "Simultaneously hot and the most annoying."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Jack drawled.

Robby's expression sort of shuttered, then, going careful. He didn't say anything.

"What?" Jack asking, feeling like this mattered, somehow.

Robby shrugged one shoulder, looking away. Always his tell. "You never mentioned guys."

Which was Robby's roundabout way of asking, opening it up for discussion. "You jealous?" Jack asked, kind of curious at whatever this was.

"No," Robby said instantly, like of course not. Then he kind of froze. "I—maybe?" he added, going a little shamefaced.

Jack shot him an appreciative look for the honesty. Met it himself: "I go for guys when I want a casual, meaningless hookup. You know, get off, get out of my head for a minute. Nothing to be jealous of."

"Because this is different," Robby said slowly, not exactly a question, but almost like he was checking.

Jack shot him an exasperated look. "Robby. What about us has ever been casual?"

Robby rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. "I don't know what the rhythms of this are. With women, it's—there's a predictable pattern. A progression—"

"Jesus, are you making it sound like a disease," Jack muttered.

Robby ignored that and continued, "But you and me? We clicked day one. Smalltalk does not apply. There's no getting to know you because I know you. It's all backwards."

"Yeah," Jack confirmed, obvious. "Fun, right? Life still has some surprises."

Robby blew out a slow breath. "I don't know how to approach this."

"Not acting like you're trying to ace a test would be a good start," Jack said, light, to make sure it didn't sting.

Robby shot him a look. "I would like to thank you for your help here," he said, prim in that way that made it unbelievably dickish.

Jack grinned and took pity on him, rolling close, leaning in for a kiss. Robby was tense at first, but quickly fell into it, kissing Jack back, one big hand cradling his cheek. After a moment, Jack pulled back, but he stayed close, resting his head on Robby's pillow to look at him.

He was all soft-focus here, relaxed after sex and sleep, though a hint of unease had risen in the lines around his eyes. "It's okay, you know?" Jack said, keeping it reassuring. "I will not be issuing grades. I'm not deciding whether to stay or go. I'm staying. Really, good luck getting rid of me. I can wait you out, just try me. And, if you need to hear it out loud, I don't want to sleep with anyone else. You don't need to approach anything. You don't need a strategy. It's just us, man. And we're good."

Robby swallowed, his forehead crinkling. "It just seems too easy."

Jack snorted. "If over a decade of friendship and pulling each other off ledges is too easy, I'd like to meet hard." Then he considered. "Wait, there's a dirty joke in there. Hang on."

Robby smiled and shoved him lightly. "Be serious."

Jack let the lightness slide away. "I am so fucking serious right now." He gestured between them, unable to encompass it all. "This...this is what I want."

Robby seemed to read it, expression going thoughtful. "The whole time?" he guessed.

"Pretty much."

Robby nodded, something complicated slipping into his eyes. "I had no fucking clue." He shook his head at himself, like he despaired of his naivete. "Not until you started touching me and I wondered why it felt so good."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to know."

Robby tipped his head, a little respect in that, like job well done. It made Jack smile, even as Robby took him in, an ache in his expression, something destroyed and built anew at the same time. "It's not how I saw my life going, but fuck it. I want it anyway."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, barely daring to let himself hope.

The corner of Robby's mouth lifted, a helpless sort of half-smile. "My world got rocked and you were waiting on the other side of it. Who am I to say no to that?"

"You can," Jack said, soft, because it was always a choice. Everything in life was a choice, even if it was just a choice of how to frame something you couldn't control.

"Well, I don't want to. Thinking hasn't been serving me well lately, so I'm going by feel here. You feel good. Fuck what I thought about myself, that's what I want."

It hit Jack then—Robby really was choosing him. Improbably. Impossibly, he would have once said. It was Robby seeing a new side of himself and not running away, pulling Jack closer when it would be easier to ignore it all. And if Robby could do that, then Jack could give in to the hope burning in his chest, threatening to consume him. They could burn bright together.

Jack pulled his voice from somewhere, sounding rough and used. "Me, too."

Robby looked at him like he was something precious, light in his eyes, a rising tide of joy. "Then I say we both get what we want."

Jack never expected it, but he was gonna fucking take it.

He'd take it.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.