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Robby didn't know how long he stared at them, Jack and Evan chatting and smiling at each other. Flirting, he realized. He definitely knew it was too long when his conversational partner said, "Dr. Robby?"

It was the prompting he needed. Because this? This could not fucking happen.

So he smiled something forced and said, "I think the night is catching up with me. Excuse me." And he bailed, no earthly idea who he'd even been talking to. Robby walked quickly through the room, setting his plate on one of the standing tables on his way—

And he landed on the other side of Jack, leaning against the bar with a fake smile as he shamelessly butted in. "Oh, Dr. Sullivan, I see you got a chance to thank Dr. Abbot for his case studies."

Evan looked at him oddly, like he didn't understand what was happening. "I did."

Between them, Robby saw Jack tense, but he didn't acknowledge it, keeping his eyes steady on Evan. "You've got sterling company. Everyone who stops me wants to talk about them. Good that you were able to get in on that."

"Yeah, Jack's a popular guy," Evan said, still puzzled.

Jack fully turned to regard Robby, disbelief in his eyes, along with something else. "Despite my best efforts," he finally said, tone dangerous.

"Please, you do this on purpose," Robby said, finally looking at Jack, keeping his voice light. Using words he'd said to him before. Poking at him deliberately because fuck him for trying to pick up some rando, what the fuck.

Jack's eyes narrowed. Then he wiped his expression clean to turn to Evan with a smile. "Sorry, man, I gotta go do a thing with Robby here. Catch you later?"

Evan went even more perplexed, shooting a look to Robby before flicking his eyes back to Jack. "Of course. Good talking to you."

Jack just nodded with another smile, then pushed off the bar, a firm grip on Robby's arm pulling him along. "Let's chat," he said, low.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Robby said, mock-innocent.

"Not here," Jack snapped.

That shut Robby up. There was actual anger in that, he thought.

Huh.

***

Jack was silent as he marched Robby out of the hall. He let him go then, heading for the hotel, Robby trailing after, staring at the tense line of his shoulders under his black suit jacket. He followed Jack to the hotel, then waited for the elevators, then up to their floor, and into their room. And Jack never said a fucking word.

Until the hotel room door closed behind Robby and Jack rounded on him. "What the actual fuck, Robby?"

"You'll have to be more specific," Robby drawled, feeling his own anger simmering, though he couldn't even say what it was aimed at. Everything, maybe.

Himself, maybe.

Jack looked at him obviously. "There a reason you just totally cockblocked me back there?"

The casual way he said it stole Robby's breath. "Were you really gonna—"

"I was thinking about it," Jack snapped, hands going to his hips. And oh, that stung, Robby sucking in a breath that hurt as Jack continued: "What, am I not allowed to have fun?"

"That's not it," Robby said, hearing the defensive note to his own voice.

Jack made a noise of disbelief, running a hand through his hair as he turned toward the sliding glass door, the curtains open, the dark of night outside framing him. Then he turned back, somehow lost in a way Jack never was. "Fuck. This is why I hate publishing. People get so weird about it."

Which was such a non sequitur, Robby didn't know what to say. "Okay?"

Jack sucked in a breath, relaxing his posture, visibly trying to calm himself. "Look, it's not like I was trying to upstage you, man."

Once again, a total non sequitur and also not a thing Robby had ever thought about. Or cared about. He was beyond confused. "What?"

But Jack seemed to think this was important, almost like he was negotiating or something: "I can't control how other people react to what I publish. It's not like I go looking for it. If I had my way, I wouldn't even be here."

Robby reeled for a moment. How the fuck had they gotten from Jack fucking Evan Sullivan to publishing? And then Robby's own words came back to him—you do this on purpose, originally meant as a tease, but he'd gone pointed with it at the bar—and then it clicked. "Wait, do you think I give a shit about that?"

Jack flared his hands. "You have been so weird this whole trip about people coming up to me about my papers."

Robby was actually gaping at Jack, he could feel it. "You think I'm professionally jealous?" he asked, because maybe it would make sense if he said it out loud except no, it didn't, not even a little bit.

"I don't fucking know," Jack shot back, heated. "You keep being weird and then dodging me."

"Jack, I don't give a single, flying fuck about your case studies or how people react to them," Robby said, flat, kind of fucking offended, actually.

"Then what the fuck is your problem?" Jack pushed back, glaring at him.

And in it, Robby realized he'd walked into a trap. Because if he said he had no problem, Jack would just think it was the publishing thing, that Robby had some deep-seated jealous need to be the cool kid or something. Jack would try to shrug it off, but it'd always be at the back of his mind. It'd stain their friendship, Robby knew, because how could you be close to someone who needed to feel superior to you? But then, if Robby told Jack what it was really about—that he hated seeing him hit on another guy—that would fuck their friendship, too. It didn't matter if Jack made a pass at him a decade ago; he had no right to be a jealous asshole now. It wasn't like he had any claim to Jack. And he had totally cockblocked him, Jack was right about that, something that was just not done between friends. Robby was damned either way.

The frustration of that screamed through him—he fucking knew this would happen, had known this would be a disaster from jump, and he'd done it anyway—but hell. If he was gonna destroy this either way, he might as well not paint himself the superior kind of asshole. He was many things, but he wasn't that guy.

"It's just—I didn't know you went for guys," Robby finally said, hearing the helplessness in his own voice.

Jack looked at him like he was speaking a different language. "Man, what are you talking about? You shot me down."

The breath caught in Robby's throat, a kind of shocked horror rushing through him. "The fuck I did," he finally managed.

"Sarasota," Jack insisted, like this was something that had definitely happened. "At the bar. You pulled away, offered to buy the next round. I admired how smooth that was, actually, letting me know you were cool, but didn't swing my way."

Robby stared at him, nothing getting better the more Jack spoke. "When the fuck have you ever known me to be smooth?" Robby asked, obvious. "That was—not what any of that was. I thought you were drunk."

Jack waved an uncaring hand. "I was drunk."

"I mean, drunkenly touchy-feely. Not actually making a pass at me. I thought you were straight."

Jack looked like he was at a loss. "The fuck do you think happens to straight people when they get drunk?" he asked, faint.

"They do things they regret," Robby instantly shot back.

"That wasn't one of them," Jack snapped.

"You were dancing with stunning women the whole night," Robby protested.

"And then I left them to come back to you," Jack said, like Robby was being deliberately obtuse.

But Jack seemed to shake himself, pulling back from the heat of it, holding up a hand. "Wait. You didn't know I went for guys," he echoed, that really landing on him. Then he scoffed. "This is not some gay panic thing. So...what?"

Jesus, he was really gonna make Robby spell it out? "The women are whatever, but it was just. Hard to see you with another guy."

"'Another' guy," Jack said slowly, suspicion flashing over his face. He stared at Robby for a long, blank moment, something like disbelief filtering into his expression. Or maybe horror. "Are you shitting me," he said, flat.

Robby rubbed the back of his neck, looking down, feeling a flush under his skin at all the ways he wanted. It was out there now; he could—he could see. After all, Jack had made a pass at him back in the day. That meant he'd wanted him, at least back then. And they hadn't even known each other all that well yet. They'd only gotten closer since. If Jack had wanted him back then, maybe...

The tang of adrenaline at the back of his throat, Robby forced himself to speak, staring at the corner of Jack's bed. "I know it was a long time ago, but. I mean, if that's an option, you don't have to go for Mr. Blond-and-Built NYU Langone. If you wanted," he finished, kind of pathetically.

Then Jack was right there, a hand pressing to his cheek—

Robby jerked his head up on an inhale, finding Jack looking at him. "Robby," he breathed, so much in his face—everything Robby had wanted, all the fondness and affection and exasperation.

Something expanded in his chest, making him brave: "I'm—I could be that. For you." And then he realized how idiotic that sounded. "Well, not blond. Or built, actually—"

"You fucking dumbass," Jack said, cutting him off—

To lean in and kiss him.

Robby made a small sound against Jack's mouth—because Jack was kissing him, what the fuck—and tilted his head slightly, kissing him back, but not too much because he didn't want to seem—

Then Jack broke the kiss, taking a breath to just look at him, eyes so wide and green and Robby was shaking, had no idea what he was even looking for—

Jack leaned in again, kissing him harder this time, hand sliding into Robby's hair. He tugged lightly, opening his mouth against Robby's, licking at his bottom lip—

Robby actually whimpered, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, their tongues brushing, igniting fire low in his belly.

Jack made a dark noise and pressed him back, Robby hitting the wall a shock, but a welcome one, trying to push into the kiss, get more, hands grasping for Jack, wanting him close. His heart pounded in his ears, entire body alight, tingling and aware and how the fuck was this happening.

The kiss went fiery, consuming, Jack tasting like the scotch he'd been drinking, heady and biting. His hands were strong against Robby, holding him to the wall, meeting him kiss for kiss, exploring Robby's mouth like he couldn't get enough. Jack sucked on Robby's tongue, pressing himself up against Robby, his body solid and strong, the heat of him going straight to Robby's head. He was already turned on and desperate for it, getting a hand on Jack's ass and pulling him closer.

Jack broke the kiss on an agonized sound, lips already puffy, and Robby understood this expression now, recognized it for what it was: desire. He'd seen it before, but hadn't known what it meant. He did now.

Robby tried to follow his mouth, but Jack dodged him and grunted a negative, hands still pressing Robby's hips into the wall, keeping him still. The casual strength of it was...a lot.

Breathing harshly, Jack pulled them out of that moment, like he was trying to think. Which was inconceivable given how warm and alive he felt against Robby, still pressed to him like he wanted to stay close even if he had slowed things down. All Robby wanted was to pull him back, to recapture that heat and burn with him, fuck everything else.

Apparently Jack had other ideas. Controlled again, he met Robby's eyes in question. "Everyone coming up to you to talk about me. It wasn't about the paper, was it?"

Robby's hands flexed on his back as he tried to swallow his annoyance. "They wanted to know if you were single. A parade of stunning women. And then Evan."

Jack stared at him. "You were stewing over the women the whole time and were just gonna ignore it until it was a guy?"

"It's different," Robby said, defending himself, a kind of pleading note to it.

That actually shifted Jack's energy down, making him go some kind of contemplative. "It's really not," he corrected, soft. He let go of one hip to run light fingers over Robby's face, a whisper of sensation wherever he touched, like he was cataloguing what Robby looked like here, like this. "I thought I wasn't your speed. That I was lucky enough to get away with making one pass. I didn't want it to be weird." He rested his hand over Robby's heart, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows.

"You never mentioned men," Robby said, hearing an accusation in it.

Jack shrugged, for all the world like that was no big deal. "It makes some guys uncomfortable."

Robby felt himself tense. "So you decided to hide it?"

"I wasn't hiding it; I thought you knew. I just...didn't bring it up."

Robby gripped the back of his jacket. "That's fucked up," he said, shaking him a little. "Even if I only went for women, that's fucked up. You're my best friend."

Jack pressed his hand hard against Robby's chest, over his heart. "The world may have changed, but not that much. Not our generation. It's fine to be a little queer so long as you don't talk about it." Then his expression went pointed. "You weren't exactly extolling the virtues of cock."

Which...no. Because when Robby was growing up liking men was shameful—dirty degenerates dying of AIDS. At best, 'gay' was a casual insult, freely used. At worst, it'd get you killed. So he learned not to talk about it. It was his own business, anyway. And even if the world had changed a little—Jack was right about that; it really depended on who you were talking to—that was tough conditioning to unlearn.

So he nodded. "Yeah," he acknowledged, rough. He swallowed the painful recognition of it, trying to make Jack understand. "I thought if you knew about the guys, you'd see my pathetic crush."

Sympathy flickered over Jack's expression. "We probably need to stop protecting ourselves." He traced a light finger over the lines around Robby's eye, going some kind of wistful. "It's always been you, man."

Something in Robby cracked open at hearing the exact words he'd been desperate to hear, for so long. He'd been certain he'd never get this. "I didn't want to ruin things," Robby said, his voice just wrecked. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost this."

Jack went so tender, leaning in. "You're not losing anything," he reassured, nuzzling Robby's jaw. "I'm right here."

Robby made a soft, wounded sort of sound and turned his head to kiss him again. Jack's mouth opened against his, but it was softer this time, slower, a welcoming rather than the frantic claiming of before. But it was no less affecting, a rush of dizzying pleasure sweeping through Robby as Jack cupped his jaw, fingers pressing to the soft spot behind his ear as they kissed, broke away, then kissed again, Jack tilting Robby's head just as he wanted. Robby let himself sink into all the good feeling of it, their tongues tangling, mouths chasing each other, some kind of elation bursting in his chest. It didn't seem real even as it was the most real he'd ever felt.

Jack wanted him. He got to have this.

This time Robby broke the kiss, overwhelmed. He pressed a hand to Jack's jaw, feeling the stubble under his fingers, somehow grounding for all that this still felt unreal. "I could've had you for ten years."

Jack leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. Then he looked back to Robby, holding his gaze in that intent way he had. "Robby. You did have me for ten years."

Robby's control just cracked. He lunged for Jack's mouth, taking it fiercely, and this time Jack let him, swaying back at Robby's urging. They kissed, hands wandering, consumed by each other as Robby walked him the few steps it took to get to Jack's bed. He promptly shoved him back onto it.

Jack laughed as he fell, sprawling out without a care, so easy and light that an intense kind of yearning rushed through Robby, even though he had Jack at hand. He crawled over Jack, sitting on his thighs, liking having him trapped underneath him, where he couldn't get away.

Not that Jack was trying to, his eyes drinking Robby in. His hands drifted from Robby's legs up to his jacket, tugging at it playfully. "If you even knew what you look like in this suit," he murmured, running his fingers along the fabric. "Good choice."

Robby shrugged. "All the saleswoman. She said it matched my eyes."

Jack's hands stilled as he looked up at Robby blankly. "The suit saleswoman hit on you?"

Robby frowned, not following that. "What?"

Jack actually laughed. He sat up, still underneath Robby. "You are truly hopeless," he drawled, leaning up for a kiss.

It went from light...to hot, Robby sweeping his tongue into Jack's mouth, the slick slide of it shooting heat through him, the feel of Jack's hard thighs underneath him only compounding it. He could do this now, revel in the heat between them, shared and acknowledged. It sent a burst of arousal careening through him, but also relief. He didn't have to hide this anymore.

Jack slid appreciative hands up Robby's chest to push the jacket off, urging. Robby got with the program, stripping it off as Jack started on his shirt buttons, the two of them kissing all the while. Robby shivered at Jack's blunt nails scratching through his chest hair, teasing fingers tangling with his Magen David, Jack exploring and stripping him at the same time. Robby yanked the shirt off, flinging it back, but then the world spun—

And Robby was on his back, shirtless and breathless, Jack between his legs, hovering over him, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He leaned down for Robby's mouth again, his thigh rubbing up against Robby's cock, lighting him up. Robby gasped into the kiss, plucking at his jacket pointedly, then working at his shirt buttons, because he wanted to touch all the skin he'd been admiring. Jack helped, shoving the jacket off, the shirt following, Robby's hand dropping to the hard planes of his body. He made a wanting sort of noise at the feel of him, pulling out of the kiss to take him in—

Of course he was as insanely built up close as he was from afar. With those delightful freckles to explore. Robby traced over them, unable to help from marveling at just how fucking hot he was.

Jack sensed it, pausing. "What?" he asked, watching him, eyes so fond.

Robby traced a finger down the bulging vein that ran the entire length of his arm, the muscles standing out, cut like a god. The kind of body that artists should be painting, making statues of, so they could preserve it for eternity. "Why do you look like this?" he asked, helpless.

Jack blinked at him, a flare of mischief in his face—

And then it disappeared, turning into something more meditative. "Because a piece of my body was violently ripped away from me and I can't control that, but I can control what's left. And it can be mine, exactly how I want it."

Robby swallowed at how hard that landed, a real answer, wrapped up in so much pain and loss. "...fuck."

Jack's lips quirked. "You expected the sexy banter version?"

"Little bit."

"That's the one I usually give," Jack acknowledged, tipping his head. "Didn't seem right for you."

Robby pressed one careful hand to his perfect chest. "Yeah," he breathed, getting that. He shot him a grateful look for the honesty—or maybe it was helpless, he didn't know—either way, Jack leaned back down for his mouth, the kiss starting tender...and turning molten.

Jack sucked on his tongue, hands roaming over Robby's body as Robby did the same, scratching down that perfect chest, tracing the cut of his hip, around his back to tease up the notches of his spine, fingertips tingling wherever he touched skin. He gripped Jack's shoulder and pulled him down, shifting him so that their cocks lined up, both hard in their suit pants. Robby rubbed himself against Jack shamelessly, riding the high of it, feeling Jack just as hard against him, thrusting down with a moan. They rocked against each other, Robby feeling sweat springing up at the heat of this, Jack so heavy and perfect above him.

Robby would've happily dry humped their way to coming in their pants like a couple of kids figuring out how their dicks worked, except Jack broke the kiss, pushing himself up and away, his cock tenting his pants obscenely, skin flushed, lips puffy. Gorgeous.

He stared down at Robby, intense. "I am going to suck you and then I am going to fuck you and if you don't want either of those things, you should tell me now," he rumbled, voice a dark burn.

It shuddered through Robby, so hot he didn't know what to do with it. "Anything," his voice hitched, horrifying. "Do anything you want with me."

Jack growled. "Get your fucking pants off."

With that, he wrenched himself up and off the bed, stalking over to the window and yanking the curtain shut. Right, people might see in; that was smart. Robby admired that Jack still had working brain cells and left him to it, sliding from the bed to quickly shuck his pants, underwear, shoes, socks, everything. Then he pulled the comforter down, opening the bed for them.

Jack returned, dropping condoms and little packets of lube on the bedside table.

"You brought condoms and lube to a conference?" Robby asked because what. He'd planned to fuck somebody?

"Brother, do we need to talk about what happens at conferences?" Jack drawled, eyes wandering down his naked body pointedly, lingering over his hard cock.

Absurdly, Robby flushed, Jack making a delighted noise as he stepped closed, hands drifting over Robby's body, mouth dropping down to nibble at his shoulder. Light fingers teased the trail of hair from his bellybutton down to his cock, circling him loosely, Robby making a soft sound at the flare of pleasure that radiated outwards.

"Perfect," Jack murmured, leaning up for Robby's mouth, the kiss somehow settling him. "Sit."

Robby did, sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack sinking to his knees before him, still clad in his black suit pants, shirtless, his skin gleaming. And jesus fuck, that image would stay with him, Jack smiling a devilish thing, like he knew the effect it had. He wedged himself between Robby's knees, widening the space there, teasing hands scratching over the hair on Robby's thighs, one moving up to lightly fist his cock, the pleasure of it almost too much. Jack stroked him, hmming in delight as he took in the sight. "Such a pretty cock."

Robby scoffed, Jack's eyes flicking up to him curiously. "What?" Jack asked, hand still moving.

He swallowed against the flush he could feel under his skin, trying to focus even as Jack seemed determined to break his brain. "Never gotten that."

"The world is full of fools," Jack drawled, leaning down.

He licked light over the head of Robby's cock and fire shot through him, both at the feel and at the sight of it, Jack opening his mouth to take Robby in. He couldn't help but reach out, cupping his cheek as Jack slowly sucked, cheeks hollowing, eyes on Robby the whole time. Warm wet heat nearly bowled him over, Jack tonguing the underside, a gleam of pleasure in his eyes. He sucked him down further, mouth soft and open, his hand stroking lightly over the base of his shaft. Robby's breath caught at the bliss of it, overwhelmed at the sight, what had only lived in the fantasies he didn't let himself indulge in. And here it was, actually happening. What the fuck.

Jack knelt there between his knees, taking Robby's cock in slowly, holding Robby's eyes all the while, the sight of it almost as good as the feeling of his mouth, the way he tongued him as he went down, then came back up, swirling over the tip. Robby felt Jack's jaw working with his hand, sliding it back into Jack's curls to grip him there, not moving him, just feeling it. Jack moaned at it, Robby feeling that in his cock, lit up, too good. Jack was practiced at this, expert, pleasure pulsing through Robby every time Jack sank his mouth down, then pulled off, his hand stroking as he withdrew. He teased at his slit and then kissed his way down the side of his shaft, eyes on Robby all the while, bright and burning. Hand pressing Robby's thigh wide, he kept going, ducking down—

Robby gasped as Jack licked his balls, a zing rocketing through him, unable to help his hand going tight in Jack's hair. Fingers rolled his balls, teasing, then moved lower, along his perineum, knowing exactly how to shoot fire through him. "Jack, please," Robby panted, not even knowing what he was asking for.

Jack hmmed against the base of his shaft, then kissed his way back up, finding Robby's eyes as he sucked the head in, hollowing his cheeks for a moment, making a picture of himself again. Then he promptly took Robby all the way down, swallowing around him, throat rhythmic and tight.

"Jack!" Robby cried out, his hips hitching up, thrusting into his throat, Jack just going with it, gagging a little, but in a controlled way, like he wanted Robby to know it. Like that would make it hotter. Which it absolutely did, pleasure running bright and hot from his cock to everywhere else, his whole body tingling, Robby feeling sweat drip down his spine.

The next time Jack slid up to the head, Robby gripped his curls, holding him there as he panted. "Who the fuck?" he growled, suddenly incensed at whoever Jack had been doing this with because you didn't get skills like that without some serious effort.

Only after he asked did it occur to him that he had no right, it was none of his business to even wonder, much less give voice to the hot thing clawing in his chest, the one that demanded Jack be his and his alone.

Jack pulled off, stroking his cock idly, seeming unbothered. "No one else now," he said, meeting Robby's eyes squarely, an offer in it.

It flushed through him, satisfaction and vindication and too many other things slipping down his spine—because that was right, Jack's mouth was for him—the pleasure of it lighting him up. He made some noise and leaned down to kiss Jack, fierce and claiming. Jack opened himself up to it, like it was easy, like he welcomed it, cupping Robby's jaw, toying with Robby's beard.

Then he pulled out of the kiss with a teasing little smile and sank back down, his hand guiding Robby's cock back to his mouth. He breathed out over the head—hot breath sending a shiver through him—and then took him back in. He held Robby's look, his eyes lust darkened as he went down on Robby's cock, his perfect fucking mouth lighting him up again. When he came back up, he licked around the head, over and over again, savoring it. It was slow, so very slow, licking the head of his cock like he wanted to memorize it, soft like it might hurt Robby. And all the while, he held Robby's eyes, never breaking that connection.

Robby felt heat in his cheeks—which was ridiculous; he had his cock in Jack's fucking mouth—but it was true all the same, like Jack's eyes were seeing straight into him, straight through him like Jack always did. And suddenly he couldn't stand it, pinned by that gaze, pleasure thick between them, overwhelming. He gripped his hand in Jack's hair and tugged, pulling him up as he leaned down for a kiss.

Jack met him in the middle, mouth open, tasting vaguely of himself, but mostly of Jack, their tongues tangling, easy and hot. "You said you'd fuck me," Robby said against his mouth, then kissed him again.

"You want that?" Jack asked, teasing as he pulled back, his lips curled up in a smile that was all invitation.

Robby imagined it, Jack licking up his spine as he thrust inside Robby's body, strong hands gripping his hips, Robby moaning into the sheets as Jack fucked him to oblivion. It was suddenly all he wanted.

"Yeah," he managed to get out, hands sliding down to Jack's shoulders, urgent, pulling him in.

Jack huffed a laugh and kissed Robby again, messy and open, saying, "Okay, okay. Hang on." Then he braced himself against the bed and groaned as he levered himself to standing. "Fuck, I miss being twenty."

Robby pictured that, too, a young Jack, tanned and muscled in his uniform, forbidden fruit. He groaned and leaned in to nuzzle at the bulge in Jack's suit pants, cradling his hips.

Jack's hands carded through Robby's hair as he moaned, hips flexing into Robby's mouth, his cock satisfyingly hard underneath the fine material. "Fuck, Robby, at least let me get my pants off."

Robby decided to help with that, working at his belt, then the fly of the pants, Jack chuckling at his eagerness. "Or you can," he amended, groaning when Robby shoved a hand underneath his boxer briefs, palming his cock, hard and leaking and all for him. He stroked over him just like that, feeling the thick vein on the underside of his cock, loving the way Jack shivered and held himself still, like he was trying to maintain his control.

"Fuck, okay," Jack said, shoving his pants off and then getting his own hands in his boxer briefs, easing them over his cock, Robby still exploring. His cock sprang free, bobbing as Robby stroked him. "Shit, man. Hang on." Jack pulled away from Robby's hand and planted himself on the bed, leaning over to unhook the prosthetic.

Robby left him to that, his mouth diving for Jack's shoulders and the million freckles there. He'd yearned to kiss them and now he got the chance, mouth moving from one to the next, too many to count. He teased his fingers over them as he explored, tracing down to the little dimples at the base of his spine, pressing there like he'd wanted to. Jack huffed out a soft breath, turned on or fond or something.

Then Jack turned and took all that skin away, suddenly there, naked and kissing Robby, pressing him back into the bed, following him down. It was so exactly like what Robby had pictured when he'd jerked off in the shower that he saw double, reeling at the impossibility of it, even as he felt Jack's heat, the heavy weight of him as he crawled over Robby and settled there. Robby rubbed his cock up against Jack's hip as they kissed, reveling in the pleasure spreading through him, thick and mind-stealing.

Jack kissed him, long and deep, fingers digging in his beard. He dropped down to kiss his chest, scraping his teeth over a nipple and laughing at the helpless noise Robby made at the way it lit him up. His fingers carded through Robby's chest hair as he kissed his way down, shifting between Robby's legs, spreading him a little as he kissed over his stomach. Robby jumped at the nip, a bright sting where Jack fucking bit him, Jack looking up with a flash of a smile, before he moved lower. He mouthed down the line of hair leading from his navel, light fingers scratching through his pubic hair, Jack ducking his head to suck Robby's cock again, light and loose this time, stoking pleasure but not trying to get him off.

Big palms pressed his thighs open wider, Robby making a soft noise at the feel, but then Jack swallowed him again and lust surged through him, Robby thrusting up into his mouth. As before, Jack went with it, making Robby groan—

A slick finger at his hole stilled him. Robby looked down, widening his focus to see one of the little lube packets torn open and oozing on the fitted sheet by his hip, Jack naked between his spread legs, mouthing the head of his cock. Robby flushed at the sight, not even knowing why—something about being splayed open like this, Jack in total control. Desire warred with vulnerability, even as Robby chastised himself; it was Jack. He met Jack's glittering eyes as he sucked the head of his cock in and pushed a thick finger inside Robby, neither asking again nor hesitating. Robby had said what he wanted. Jack was giving it to him.

The thought made Robby groan. He bore down on Jack's finger, then tried to relax himself, sucking in a breath, pressing a hand down to cradle the back of Jack's head. Jack pulled off his cock, shooting Robby a curious look. "It's been a minute," Robby offered, which was true enough.

Jack nodded in understanding, some kind of gleam in his eyes—

Then he crooked his finger and Robby saw stars. "Fuck," he called out, free hand gripping the sheets, pleasure gone molten as Jack worked his prostate, expert. Robby's body instinctively moved in concert, trying to get more, pressing himself against that finger—

And then it was gone, Robby grunting in protest.

Then two slick fingers pressed into him, the pressure of it almost a burn, Jack deliberately opening him up now. Robby breathed into it, relaxing again, willing his body to cooperate.

"That's it," Jack murmured, fingers working his rim, dipping in and out, flexing strong inside him, slowly stretching. He lapped at the head of Robby's cock, red and leaking, the sight of Jack's tongue licking at it still the stuff of fantasies. Robby lost himself in the pleasure of it, ass tingling as Jack played with him, his mouth the perfect counterpoint.

Three fingers was a lot, Robby shifting at the discomfort of it. Jack sucked him back down, the bliss of his mouth taking the edge off, Robby urging his body to give in. Eventually, it did, the sense of too much melding into pleasure at the same, Jack's three fingers sliding in easier. Robby panted, feeling sweat everywhere, the fullness in his ass making him yearn.

Jack pulled his mouth from Robby's cock and leaned back to stare at his hand, fingers still working Robby. "You look so pretty for me," he murmured, curling the fingers inside him.

Robby gasped as fire streaked through him. "Jack," he pleaded, desperate.

Jack grunted. He eased off Robby's prostate, but kept his fingers subtly moving inside him, even as he grabbed a nearby pillow and dragged it over. Sweat dotted his forehead as he found Robby's eyes. "C'mon, shift up for me," he crooned, a sexy lilt to it.

Then Robby realized what he was saying. He wanted to shove the pillow under Robby's hips.

"You want to—like this?" Robby asked, to check, not moving.

Jack sensed something, pulling himself up to study him, which abruptly widened Robby's focus again—Jack kneeled between Robby's legs, flushed, cock hard and wet at the tip. He had Robby spread wide, with three fingers in his ass, still moving subtly, and he wanted to fuck Robby like this. Against his will, Robby flushed.

"What's up?" Jack asked, curious. He shifted closer to Robby, the heat of his thighs against the backs of Robby's legs, hard cock bobbing in the air. He left his fingers inside Robby, like holding his territory.

"Man, I don't bend like that," Robby tried.

Jack scoffed. "You've been doing your PT stretches," he said, effectively disagreeing.

Robby stared at him. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"Priorities," Jack said, like that was any kind of answer. "So what's up?"

Robby felt heat in his cheeks, trying to figure out what he was even feeling. Some kind of hesitation. "I haven't. Like this."

Jack's eyes narrowed a little. "But you have gotten fucked before," he said, like he was clarifying.

Robby flashed back to the other times—hands and knees, or facedown, moaning his pleasure into a mattress or pillow. It wasn't his go-to, but it was—it could be good. "Yeah," he said, short.

"Gimme something here, man, what're you thinking?" Jack asked.

"Can't a man have a little dignity?" Robby groused, looking away.

Jack nudged him with his body, Robby looking back to find something considering in his expression. "Oh, you want to hide," Jack said, drawn out, a realization.

Robby felt himself tense. Jack's expression flickered in a way that meant he felt it, too. Which he probably did given that he still had his fingers inside Robby. "No, I don't."

But Jack was on a roll now, thinking it through. "Big, strong leader man, chief attending, always in charge." As he spoke, he ran his free hand up Robby's thigh, over his pelvis, stroking over his balls, then to his hard cock, red and straining against his belly. The possessive kind of touch shot heat through Robby, but also an odd kind of tenderness, something squeezing in his chest.

"Yeah, and why do you want to fuck me like this?" Robby challenged, turning it around on him.

"Because I want to watch your face," Jack said simply. Then he leaned over, bracing his hand by Robby's shoulder so he could press their mouths together. "And kiss you," he said, pulling back, but staying there, so close. "And breathe your air as I make you come," he rumbled, eyes dark.

Robby sucked in a breath at the heat of that, picturing it. "...oh."

But Jack was still right there, draped over him and watching, clearly thinking something. "The guys who fucked you," he said, prompting. "You trust 'em?"

Robby blinked, not expecting that. "What? Yes," he said, but it came out as more of a question.

"So not really," Jack concluded, thoughtful. "But you trust me," he added, like a challenge, prompting a response.

And braced over Robby, staring into him like he did, his fingers still inside him, there was only one response, instinctive and foundational, a truth found down deep, not even on the rational level, something from the soul. "Implicitly."

Jack seemed to read that in him, softening a little. "Okay. Then this is good," he decided, leaning down to lick at Robby's mouth, just light. "This lets me be clear." He pulled back to pin him with his look. "I'm not whatever rando was fucking you into the mattress. I get everything. All of you. You hearing me?"

Robby just stared at him, not knowing what to say. The idea was so completely overwhelming, part of him yearning for it, even as another part shied away. "I—" He trailed off, helpless.

Jack seemed to get it, leaning in to kiss him again, a slow press of their mouths that Robby couldn't help melting into. Jack's fingers tensed inside Robby, moving again, pressing deeper, against his prostate, lighting him up.

"Fuck," Robby said against his mouth, his voice strangled with the pleasure of it.

But Jack was talking again, breath tickling along Robby's jaw. "It's me, Robby. I'm gonna make it so good for you," he said, coaxing, his fingers working him rhythmically again. "It's okay, man. You can let go."

"Fuck," Robby said again, his body moving against his will, seeking more, his cock aching. "I just—you can have it, but I don't think you're gonna want it," he finally said, a broken note to it.

Jack pulled back far enough to meet his eyes, nothing but certainty in him. "I know what I want."

Then he sat up, his fingers pulling all the way out. Robby couldn't help the bereft noise he made—

But Jack was gripping Robby's hip, urging him up, shoving the pillow underneath him, planting himself between Robby's thighs. Robby could already feel the strain in his hip flexors from being spread wide like this. It wasn't enough to stop, but he'd probably remember this tomorrow.

Jack rolled a condom on his very hard cock, slicking himself with more lube, a soft exhalation at the feel of his own hand, the whole thing unbearably hot to watch—

The blunt head of Jack's cock pressing to his hole made Robby suck in a breath. He reached out, a soft hand to Jack's chest, not stopping him, just feeling his sweaty skin, the beat of his heart steady under Robby's hand. Jack held his eyes as he pressed his cock in, that overwhelming sense of pressure swamping Robby, pulling a soft noise from his throat.

Jack held so still. "Relax," he breathed, running a hand over Robby's thigh, up to his cock, the touch featherlight. Jack trembled with the effort of staying still, sweat dotting his skin. Glowing.

Robby sucked in a breath and consciously untensed his muscles, relaxing his body by degrees. And what felt like too much became good, Jack's cock sinking in a little more, Jack groaning, "Just like that, yeah." He thrust shallowly, still so slow and controlled, easing deeper inside Robby's body with such care.

Robby moaned at the pleasure of it, feeling it in his ass, stretched wide around Jack's cock, nerve endings lighting up in bliss with every tiny thrust, until he could feel Jack's balls nestled against his ass, Robby so full.

Jack leaned over him, finding his mouth and kissing long and deep, just holding himself like that, cradled by Robby's body. He pulled back and panted between them, eyes dark with passion. "You feel—I can't—"

Desperation rushed through Robby. He gripped Jack's shoulders and growled, "Move."

Jack held his eyes and did, withdrawing a little and sinking back in, both of them moaning at the feel. It was unbearably intimate, Robby seeing every emotion flickering over Jack's face as he fucked him, Jack watching him in turn, his gaze hot and knowing. Robby gripped Jack's sweaty shoulders, urging him on, faster, electricity pulsing under his skin every time Jack pulled out, every time he sank back in, all his focus narrowing to the feel of Jack fucking into him, the feel of his own cock flat against his belly, hot and leaking.

Through the haze of pleasure, Robby felt Jack moving him slightly, changing angles, shifting him up, until he thrust in again and his cock glanced over Robby's prostate and Robby's whole body lit up, ecstasy skating along every nerve. "Fuck," he breathed, shaky.

"Yeah," Jack gasped, big hands pressing at the backs of Robby's thighs as he thrust in again, the angle perfect, Robby moaning helplessly at how good it was, how it made his head go fuzzy. "Hold yourself there," Jack crooned, encouraging, and Robby did, grasping the backs of his own thighs, holding himself up and open as Jack fucked into him just like that, over and over again, bright waves of pleasure every time his cock rubbed over Robby's prostate.

It should feel humiliating, Robby holding himself spread for Jack, like he was some hole to fuck into. But it wasn't like that at all, Robby lost in Jack's face—eyes glassy, mouth wet and open, watching Robby like he was a revelation, something like awe there. He braced himself over Robby, leaning down to kiss him, claiming. "You should know, you can't take this back," Jack said against his mouth, his voice rough, intense, steadily rocking into him, stealing his mind with every slow thrust. "This is us now."

"Don't want to," Robby panted. "You have me."

Jack's expression went fierce. He leaned back a little, arm muscles shaking as he fucked into him harder, hitting him just right, his sweat dripping down onto Robby.

Robby made some kind of incoherent noise, fire gathering at the base of his spine, in his balls, body starting to shake. "Please," he begged. "Please."

The feel of Jack's hand on his cock actually made him sob, white flashing before his eyes. Jack jerked him slow and dirty, hand slick with the remains of the lube packet, not enough, but absolutely enough given how Robby shook. The backs of his thighs were sweaty where he held himself open, the slick slide of Jack's cock inside him relentless, sparking bright every time he nailed his prostate, everything tingling, Robby teetering just over the abyss. "I'm—"

"Yeah," Jack breathed, leaning closer again, rocking into him, cock thick and glorious, glancing across his prostate perfectly, over and over again as Jack kissed him, mouth open and soft. He pulled back and whispered, "I got you, Mike."

And the abyss rose up to claim him. Fire rushed down Robby's spine, some kind of noise ringing in his ears as he shot all over Jack's fist and his own chest, every stroke of Jack's hand taking him higher, wringing more pleasure from him. His body clamped down around Jack's cock as he came, turning him into an instinctive, mewling thing, so far past control he didn't even know what it was anymore. From far away, Robby heard Jack groan his own pleasure, shaking against Robby, rhythm broken as he came in a series of short thrusts, bursts of sensation in his ass that tingled through him, even when he had nothing left to give.

Spent, Jack slumped heavy over him, sweat mixing with come in a squelching kind of mess between them, and even through the blissful aftershocks, his pulse pounding in his head, Robby could feel the strain in his legs and hips. He made a protesting noise, Jack stirring with a muttered, "Shit, sorry."

Then he was pulling back—and out of Robby, a sense of loss in that. Jack disappeared as Robby let go of his thighs and let his legs flop down, ungainly, feeling the strain of muscles in his hips, the awareness of his ass, used in the best kind of way. He sank into the buzz of white noise in his head, body pulsing with too much good feeling, a sense of invincibility mixing with the echoes of pleasure, like nothing could touch him.

Jack returned, strong fingers massaging his hips and thighs, Robby groaning at the feel of tension released. He used the sheet to wipe Robby's chest, Robby trying to crawl under, mind fuzzy, sleep wanting to claim him.

"Nope," Jack drawled, something fond in his voice. "Up, Robby. There's a whole bed here not covered in sweat and come."

"Shame," he muttered, but he let himself be urged onwards, across the two steps to the other bed, Jack holding the covers open for him.

Robby burrowed under, every muscle in his body relaxing at the cool sheets, the feeling of Jack climbing in behind him. He turned, seeking out Jack's heat, nuzzling his sternum, Jack's arm around him, pulling him close. Strong fingers scratched through the hair at the back of Robby's head, feeling so good, Jack's skin warm against his. He smelled faintly like his cologne, but also like them now, sex and musk. A wash of satisfaction flowed over Robby, so complete it stole his breath, that buzz of white noise curling through him again, calling him to oblivion. But it was the good kind of oblivion, the safe kind, buoyed along by love and care and a gut-deep sense of certainty, nothing he'd ever felt before.

And then he felt nothing at all.

***

Robby woke rested, the kind that told him he'd gotten at least seven solid hours of uninterrupted sleep, the kind he hadn't had in...he couldn't even remember how long. His body was still loose with great sex, a sense of wellbeing suffusing him, nestled under the white sheet, on his side facing the curtain. Early morning light blurred around it, leaking in, making everything soft and dreamlike. Robby breathed deep, enjoying the sense of his lungs expanding, feeling profoundly alive.

And then he tried to turn over. He couldn't help his groan—his hip flexors were sore, his lower back protested, and his ass hadn't felt like this in a while. It wasn't enough to pierce his good mood, but as he turned onto his other side, he certainly felt every one of his fifty-four years.

Jack was already awake, curled on his side and watching Robby, the white sheet halfway down a temptingly bare chest, head on a pillow. The corners of his lips were curved up, amused at Robby, but there was a carefulness about his energy. Like he was waiting to see which way a play would go.

Robby understood it, but he still shot him an unimpressed look. "I'm not gonna freak out."

Jack's body sank deeper into the bed, his tension releasing on a breath. "Now's the time," he argued, soft.

"I spent a decade thinking I'd never get this," Robby said, matching his softness. "That the person who made the world make sense could never want me back. I meant what I said. You have me."

Jack's expression cracked. Suddenly he was moving, pressing their bodies together, legs tangling, the press of sleep-warmed skin slipping through Robby as Jack leaned in to kiss him. Robby kissed back, feeling something delicate in Jack, cradling him close. He pulled out of the kiss and just held him, clocking his hitching breath, deeply feeling now how much it meant to Jack. "I'm sorry I made you feel unwanted," he finally said, mournful, seeing it all from Jack's perspective. Ten years thinking he'd shot his shot and been rejected. Thinking Robby just didn't feel the same connection. He pulled back to find Jack's eyes, so vulnerable in the early morning light. "I wanted you every day," he said, just to make that very fucking clear. "You're like a walking miracle. I don't even get how you exist."

Jack nodded, tight, muttering an agreeing kind of, "Yeah," and leaning in to kiss Robby again. He kept it brief, kissing him once more before pulling back, clearing his throat, trying to distance himself from the heavy emotion, maybe. "As romantic as this is," Jack drawled, eyes flicking to him, teasing, "your breath stinks."

Robby stared at him for a beat...and then snorted. "Right back atcha," he said with a smile, watching as Jack pulled back to prop himself on his own pillow, eyes so soft and green and warm. He couldn't help the rush of affection at the sight. "I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't pulled away in Sarasota. We could've had this the whole time."

Jack shrugged and reached out, tangling light fingers with his Magen David, but it held a kind of reservation. One that made Robby frown. "You don't think?" he guessed, wondering.

"Maybe. Or maybe you would've put me in the box with all the other guys, someone to fuck but not let too close."

Robby stared at him, not knowing what to say to that. "You really think that?"

"Hell if I know. But maybe—" He took Robby in, a contemplative air around him. "Maybe it was good that I spent ten years sidestepping all your defense mechanisms."

Robby thought about that, wondering if there was something to it. Thinking back on how he could never fully share himself with his other partners, protecting them from all the pain and imperfection. But that was the stuff Jack had always seen and understood without needing to be told. That wasn't what he'd kept from Jack.

"Or maybe I needed all those defense mechanisms because I didn't have the right person beside me," Robby offered.

Jack tipped his head. "Chicken or egg. Either way, we're here now. We get to have this. And keep it."

Robby covered the hand Jack had toying with his necklace, squeezing it tight. "We do," he said, holding Jack's eyes.

His lips curved up. "When we get home, you should move your shit into my place," he said, easy as anything. Like that was all it took. A simple declaration that stood in for a massive sea change in the direction of their lives.

Wanting it stole Robby's breath a little, even as the reservations surfaced. "I like my place," he said, making sure his tone said he wasn't opposed, in principle. It was just that Jack leaned more toward functional and boring in his décor choices while Robby's place felt warm and alive.

Jack shot him a frank look. "Your bathrooms aren't great for me."

"So we renovate the bathrooms to make them work," Robby said, the obvious solution.

"Okay, but I don't want tacky, surface-level shit. Like, your tub's got to go. We're gonna have to gut both, realistically."

"We'll make it real pretty for you, princess," Robby drawled.

Jack shot him a look that said, dick. But he nodded. "And you stay with me while the work's being done."

"Sounds good," Robby said because he could deal with Jack's place for a few weeks or months, that was fine.

And then he realized how he was thinking about it, the whole span of their lives open before them, not thinking of it day by day, week by week, a thing he was doing now. It was years, it was lifetimes.

Which kind of said everything.

He looked over to Jack, who was craning his neck to look at the clock—7:47am, everything about their sleep schedule was gonna be fucked—only to look back at Robby with a sort of mischievous smile. "Now, we got some time, and that bathroom has the gold-standard of shower benches, so I think you should fuck me on it."

Robby shot him a wicked look. "After you brush your teeth."

"You first, sweetheart."

***

Which was how Robby found himself sitting on said shower bench, gripping Jack's hips as his cock disappeared into Jack's clinging hole. Water dripped down Jack's back, muscles moving under slick skin as he worked himself down, his arms braced using the grab bars on either side, the muscles there hard and bulging. They'd set the shower to rainfall mode, the spray mostly off them so it didn't wash away the lube, but the effect was still electric, Jack's skin flushed and slippery, his spine liquid as he took Robby in deeper.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Robby muttered as Jack sank down and then up again, his perfect ass taking Robby's cock all the way in, body gripping him tight, the pleasure of it rushing down Robby's spine every time Jack bottomed out.

"See something you like?" Jack asked, turning his head to look back at Robby as he fucked onto him, expression teasing.

"Only your perfect fucking ass," he said, pressing his fingers into those little dimples at the base of Jack's spine again, exactly how he'd wanted to ever since he saw them.

Jack leaned forward a little, finding an angle he liked, and dropped down a little faster, panting. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Robby just stared as his cock slid into Jack's ass over and over again, totally unprepared for the hotness of it. Feeling the telltale tingling of orgasm, he grunted and squeezed Jack's hips. "Lean back," he pleaded, wanting Jack near.

Jack shifted his leg out a little and did, bringing his back to Robby's chest, arching his head back over Robby's shoulder, body splayed out for him.

Robby latched onto the side of his neck, sucking a hickey into his skin as he reached around for Jack's cock, hard against his belly. He stroked him, hand sliding easily as he simultaneously thrust up into his ass, so hot and tight.

"Fuck, Robby, right there," Jack panted, rocking back onto him, making desperate noises as they moved together, speeding up, both reaching for it.

"Want to feel you come from the inside," Robby muttered into his ear, twisting his wrist on the upstroke as he fucked into him.

Jack made a choked noise and did, cock pulsing in Robby's hand as he came all over his chest, his ass gripping like a vise around Robby's cock.

Fire rushed through him, Robby growling and thrusting hard as he came in long pulses, rutting into Jack as the world narrowed to just this, pleasure shared between them, hot and life-affirming.

After, Jack sank onto him heavily, laughing a little as he turned his head further, Robby meeting him in an off-center kiss, somehow perfect for its imperfection.

When it ended, Robby rested their heads together. "We're putting one of these in my bathroom," he said, running his fingers idly up Jack's defined abs, rubbing the come into his skin.

"Accessibility features: good for everybody," Jack quipped, a lazy kind of satisfaction in his voice.

Feeling himself start to soften, Robby nudged him, Jack lifting himself off Robby's cock with a kind of mournful sound. Robby levered himself up to deal with the condom, letting Jack take his place on the bench as he walked out of the shower.

When he came back, Jack had returned the water to normal, rinsing himself off. Robby knelt by the bench, reaching for him—

Jack leaned in for his kiss, a tiny smile curling his lips. When he pulled out of it, he stayed close, one hand scratching through Robby's wet beard. "A romantic, I see," he murmured, his wet curls matted to his head, darkened from the water, droplets all over his skin. Robby wanted to lick every single one off, individually, and then start all over again.

"And not even a little ashamed of it," Robby agreed, pulling him back in for a kiss, tongue sweeping against Jack's as he cupped his cheeks, fond at the stubble underneath his palms.

Jack broke the kiss to rest their foreheads together, breathing harder than the kiss warranted. "I'm okay with it," he finally said, pulling back to look at Robby, eyes so green, full of uncomplicated happiness.

Robby kissed the tip of his nose. "Good."

***

They got dressed and packed, back in cargos and t-shirts, much more their usual. As Robby carefully rolled his suit pants, Jack asked, "Breakfast at the Marina Kitchen?"

Checkout wasn't until 11am and their flight wasn't until 2, so they had time. Breakfast with Jack overlooking the ocean was the kind of decadent he could get behind. "Sounds good," Robby said, distracted by his game of packing Tetris.

Jack's amused noise made Robby look over. All packed, Jack had flung himself on his bed, propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone, that little smile curving his lips up. "Ellis again?" Robby guessed, fond.

"We looked super hot last night," Jack shot back, handing over his phone so Robby could see.

The pictures were all striking—well, Jack was striking; Robby just looked tired while well-dressed—but as before, it was Ellis' commentary that really got his attention:

jesus, someone posted the video of robby's speech. you better put a ring on it, quickly followed by, dibs on best man. brandt can die mad about it

Jack had actually responded to her: you're not a man, parker. To which she offered the very reasonable, and what does that matter?

The fact that Jack was casually joking with his favorite former-resident about marrying Robby kind of blew his mind a little. Because...what?

But then, they were moving in; he was thinking of them in terms of forever. He couldn't imagine wanting anyone else. He hadn't wanted anyone else in years, consoling himself with other people, who could never measure up. And now he had him; Jack was his. So Robby supposed that tracked.

Robby handed the phone back. "We getting married?" he asked, mild.

Jack smiled something small and secretive. "Could be. Make an honest man out of you, Robinavitch."

Robby abandoned his packing to sit on the edge of the bed, taking him in. Jack just leaned against the headboard and watched him right back, no hint of doubt in him. Robby ran his fingers over the ring already on Jack's finger, the one his wife had given him.

Jack hmmed in a fond sort of way. "You can buy me a new one," he offered, nothing but welcome in it. "And you have to think about what kind you want."

Robby imagined a gold band engraved with ani l'dodi v'dodi li—simple and classic. But all he said was, "Well, you let me know when." He marveled that it could be that easy, a thing they did because they wanted to, when marrying Jack was banned before 2014. The many ways the world had changed, he mused.

Jack leaned over for a kiss. "Will do."

***

They were seated on the patio, the table looking out onto blue waters, sunshine sparkling off the boats bobbing in their slips. Robby just took Jack in, outright staring because he could now. Jack looked rested, the lines in his face softened, handsome and at ease as he studied the menu with that focus of his. The hickey Robby had sucked into his neck was red and obvious on his skin, so high that no shirt would cover it. It made Robby viscerally satisfied every time he caught sight of it.

They ordered absurdly expensive coffee and omelets, the waiter moving off. Which was when Robby caught a flash of blond curls in his peripheral—

He looked, a sense of inevitability crashing down on him. Evan Sullivan was following the hostess to a distant table, casual in jeans and an untucked black button-down.

Robby didn't think. "Dr. Sullivan," he called, not too loud, but loud enough to get the man's attention. He looked over, eyes sweeping Robby and Jack, then he nodded to the hostess standing before his table and made a kind of hold on gesture.

Evan smiled as he approached, generous in that, Robby thought. "Morning, gentlemen. Heading out soon?"

Jack smiled, just friendly. "Hey, man. Yeah, we're on the 1400. You?"

"The four o'clock. I'll probably get home at dawn," he said, dry.

"That's what you get for living in Brooklyn," Jack shot back, a familiar sort of tease. Which reminded Robby that Jack had planned to fuck this guy last night, if Robby hadn't thrown a fit.

He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say, sorry I was a dick," Robby offered, wry. "The conference was kind of rough for me."

Evan's smile was small, understanding. "It's gotta be hard, everyone wanting to talk about the worst day. All good."

Robby nodded in thanks. It was probably more than he deserved, but he'd take it. "If you're ever in Pittsburgh, look us up. We'll show you the good pierogies."

Evan smiled, eyes flicking between Robby and Jack again, probably clocking how Robby had framed them as a unit. His eyes lingered on Jack's neck, amusement flaring for a moment. But he just said, "I will. Safe travels, guys."

"You, too," Jack said, Evan nodding in farewell and heading back to his table.

A server delivered their coffees, Jack sitting back with his, eyeing Robby evenly as he took a pointed sip.

"What?" Robby asked.

"Marking your territory?" he asked, amused.

"I wasn't." At Jack's raised eyebrows, Robby insisted, "I felt bad."

"Which you delivered in the most possessive way possible," Jack said, still amused.

"I didn't—" Then Robby paused. "Maybe I did," he allowed. "Fuck."

Jack huffed a breathy laugh. "It's fine. Evan's cool. But you know I'm not gonna fuck anyone else, right?" he asked, mild and unconcerned.

Robby felt something untense at the base of his skull. "I figured," he said. It was good to hear it, though, even if he knew that. He did.

It was still good to hear it.

Jack read it in him, like he always fucking did, smiling softer now. "Since I've got you shamed, can I raise something you're not gonna want to hear?"

"Well, with a lead-in like that," Robby drawled, gesturing him on, taking a sip of his coffee. Which was perfect.

Jack took a breath, looking out at the ocean for a moment, like he was figuring out how to say it. "I've been thinking about it over this trip and the thing is...you are so fucking smart, Robby. I mean, a literal genius and not just at the medicine. You have your moments, but you know how to work people if you need to. And watching you here has made me think that you have Gene totally snowed."

Robby went still, not sure how to react to that, his heart rate starting to tick up.

Jack saw it, tilting his head in a way that acknowledged it. "I don't mean that Gene hasn't helped because he has. You pulled back from thinking oblivion might be fun, and I am grateful for that, truly, but the rest of it?" He shook his head. "The weight of all the responsibility is still crushing you. I can see it. You successfully hid one thing from me—and I salute you, man, I am impressed—but not that. I can still see that."

Robby finally found his voice. "I'm fine."

"You're exhausted," Jack said, flat. "Soul-deep exhausted. You are desperate for someone else to take the burden, even as you think you're the only one who can handle it. You hold yourself to a standard that no human can possibly meet, setting yourself up for failure over and over again. It's not a crisis right now, but it'll get there. Someday. You need to take a real break and work on it."

Robby gestured around them. "I take breaks."

Jack huffed a laugh. "Reliving your trauma doesn't count. I mean a real break. A solid month, at least. Not worrying about patients. Seeing a therapist multiple times a week. Actually talking to him. If Gene can't get at it, someone else. Someone who will do more than just keep you moving. Because that's not the standard, man, it's really not."

Robby scoffed. A month off was never going to fucking happen. "Right. And the ED will just run itself."

Jack shrugged. "I got you."

Shock swamped him at everything wrapped up in that simple statement. The reassurance Jack always offered him. That Robby believed. "You don't want to run the department. You'd retire to Bhutan first," he argued, because Jack had made that very clear. Then he added the unthinkable: "You'd have to switch to days."

"All of that is true and I'll do it anyway," Jack said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Robby went speechless. Jack was talking about months of his life doing things he outright hated. Just because he thought Robby needed it. "And what am I supposed to do?" he finally asked. "Learn to bake? Become some kind of housewife?"

Jack took a sip of his coffee. "Whatever. Oversee the reno if you need a task."

Robby scoffed. "Is this you giving me the illusion of choice?" he challenged, a little pissy now. Because what the fuck.

Jack pressed his leg to Robby's underneath the table, warm and present and grounding. "Robby. No. This is me respecting you enough to raise it directly. But you have to choose it for yourself."

And like that, his anger dissipated. "Well, you're right about one thing: I didn't want to hear that," he said, suddenly tired.

"But you'll listen," Jack drawled, "because you trust me implicitly." He watched Robby with heavy eyes, bluish-green now against the bright blue sky and the thing was—that was true. Jack was the person Robby trusted to tell him what he needed to hear, even when he didn't want to listen. Jack got it. He was just as good as Robby—better in some ways—and he knew what it took, but also the toll. More importantly, he felt it, too, the why of it. The thing driving them to show up every day, even when it felt like showing up just broke them into ever tinier pieces. Because Jack Abbot was possessed of an endless faithful heart, a man dedicated to serving others.

If Jack was saying something, Robby would listen.

"I just—I can handle it," he insisted, even as he could hear a plaintive note in it. A seed of doubt.

"Yeah," Jack said slowly, acknowledging. "The thing is, you don't have to." He nudged Robby's leg again, warm under the table. "You can let me handle things for a while. And you can rest."

Sudden emotion surged through Robby, so exactly what he'd thought that he went a little dizzy with it. And hadn't it felt good, to let Jack take over for a while?

Robby's throat hurt, something stinging at the backs of his eyes. "I'm a little tired," he finally said, the words feeling heavy in his mouth.

"I know," Jack said, so warm and soft and compassionate. A safe place, where it was okay to admit that because Jack already knew. And he wouldn't judge him for it.

Robby let out a breath, feeling winded. "I hate letting everyone down."

"You don't. You're not." Jack tipped his head. "You said it yourself: you can't drown with 'em."

Robby scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to rein in the emotion he could feel threatening at the idea taking shape in his mind. Because when Jack said something, Robby listened. And how often was Jack wrong?

He covered by taking a sip of coffee, his resistance fading into a kind of inevitability. He met Jack's eyes again, shaking his head a little. "Me at loose ends is gonna be such a pain in the ass."

Jack breathed out a laugh, fondness in it, but also relief, his shoulders easing. Like this mattered, like he'd worried, and Robby had just taken that from him. It hit Robby harder than he expected, something in him wanting to ease Jack's mind.

Jack looked at him, expression gentle. "Not a side of you I've seen."

"A pain in the ass?" he asked, falling into the banter gratefully.

"That's every day," he corrected, dry. He went more earnest: "You, free."

Robby swallowed against how overwhelming that felt. He still couldn't imagine it. What was he going to do? Laze around reading books all day? Argue with contractors? Cry in bed? He couldn't picture it, a fuzzy kind of blank, inconceivable given the regimented nature of his life. It had been that way forever, stretching all the way back to med school. Thirty years of getting to the next class, the next shift, the next patient, always purposeful, driving forward, rigid and structured. And with this, it was just one big question mark. "Yeah," he finally said, voice gone rough. "Gotta be honest, don't know if either of us is gonna like it."

Jack quirked that half-smile, the one Robby loved. "Maybe we'll surprise each other."

Robby took him in, Jack so sure, projecting the kind of certainty that made Robby think it would all be okay. So Robby tipped his head. "It's been known to happen," he said, dry.

Jack smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening, his expression going terribly fond. Which was when Robby's phone dinged, a text coming in from Dana:

You okay, Cap?

What was it Ellis had said? Someone posted the video of his speech online. Dana must have seen it, Robby telling the world that he'd realized he needed help. And here help was, literally sitting across from him, showing him the path. If he was willing to walk it.

He quickly typed a reply:

Getting there.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.