Archive of Our Own

The job offer came out of nowhere. Centennial Hospital, a level 1 trauma center in Colorado, wanted him to take over for their retiring chief attending. They'd heard the same rumors as everyone about PTMC—how it'd be taken over, transformed, the ED shut down. Didn't Jack want to get ahead of it and find himself a new gig, head of the department, master of his own fate? And the money, of course. Lots and lots of money.

Jack promptly told them to fuck off. He considered that the end of it.

And then they started calling.

***

Given that he was an emergency department doctor, Jack was good about answering his phone, even from unknown numbers. It wasn't even about being on call, which he wasn't at 8am, just wrapping up his charting after handing off to Robby. It was about...you never fucking knew. You never knew when shit would hit the fan. You never knew when a member of your unit would call with misery in his voice and a gun in his hand—something that had happened more than once—so if Jack was conscious, he was generally available.

Which meant he answered the 720 area code without much thought. "Abbot."

"Good morning, this is Marielle Williams with Centennial Hospital," a cheerful voice said, for the first time making Jack regret his availability. "I know my colleague reached out, but I'd love to walk you through the position and the generous compensation package we're prepared to offer."

"Yeah, I thought I made it clear to the other guy that I'm not interested," Jack said, straight-up.

"If I could just have a moment of your time—"

"We only get so many moments, Ms. Williams. Don't waste yours." And then he hung up.

Robby appeared by his side, keen eyes watching Jack, like Jack was a question and he was trying to read the answer from his skin. He'd been doing that ever since Pittfest, since he'd asked for Jack's therapist's number and actually started going to the guy Stan referred him to. Three months on, Robby was a little quieter, more inclined to hang back than spit fire, and his desperate edge had faded; Jack assumed that meant things were going well. Or, at least, better. But Robby never talked about it, so he didn't really know. All he knew was this new watchfulness from Robby made his spine stiffen, though he couldn't say why.

It happened now, Jack straightening automatically as Robby asked, "You good?"

"Fucking telemarketers," Jack said, not wanting to mention the job and get into a whole thing. And Williams was doing a kind of marketing over the phone; it wasn't even really a lie. "If we can't be free of these people, I dunno about this freedom of speech business."

Robby's lips twitched, eyes warming, the promise of a smile in it. "Didn't you take an oath to defend the Constitution?" he asked, dry as dust.

"And look where that got me," Jack shot back.

Robby did smile then, a quick flash—there and gone, so fast you might miss it—the rare kind Jack savored. "I dunno, brother. You're not doing too shabby," Robby murmured, the warmth in his voice spreading through Jack, despite his best efforts at not falling into all the things Robby made him feel. "Get outta here. You need your beauty sleep."

He moved off, Jack automatically volleying back: "What, am I not pretty enough for you right now?"

"Oh, I'd never say that," Robby drawled back with another quicksilver smile. Beyond him, Dana raised an eyebrow as Princess turned to Perlah, muttering something Jack definitely didn't want to know about.

And that...that was new, too, these weird moments that felt like moments, not just their usual banter. But Robby was so inscrutable, Jack didn't know if that was real or just his own want coloring things. Probably the latter. From everything he'd seen, Robby was tragically straight and a serial monogamist. He wasn't out fucking rando guys and he certainly didn't flirt with them. Jack was just reading into it.

Dana was still looking at him, so he turned to her, tipping his head to invite her into confidence. "He been doing okay?"

Dana shrugged. "Little quieter, little easier on Gloria. Either he's mellowing in old age or therapy actually works."

"Imagine that." Jack nodded, satisfaction slipping through him. Therapy did work, if you put the work in. It sounded like Robby was. Jack was desperately glad to hear it, to know that Robby had the support he needed.

If Robby was okay, then everything would be okay.

***

Because Centennial couldn't buy a clue, they started emailing him. They actually put the salary right up top—an obscene number; who said there was no money in healthcare—like if he just understood what they were offering, he'd change his mind.

Jack typed out a very satisfying, very profane response as he walked into PTMC...only to realize that replying might encourage them. So he deleted it and sent the email to spam. God save him from fucking suits.

He was still stewing about it when he got in, the ED a buzz of activity—McKay trying to soothe a mom whose baby was screaming bloody murder, Esme mopping up some kind of bodily fluid right in front of the hub, Ahmad planted outside Behavioral-2 with his intimidating posture. Clearly it had been a day.

Robby appeared at his side, the lines around his eyes deepened with exhaustion. "Everything okay?" he asked, like Jack was the one who deserved concern.

"Man, I should be asking you that. What, is it a full moon?"

"If it is, you have fun with that," he drawled, lighter, looking around to see if anyone needed him. But then he looked back to Jack, energy going concerned. "You sure everything's good? You seem...far away."

Jack hated how much Robby's concern warmed him, just the knowledge that Robby gave a shit sending affection curling through him. Which was ridiculous; Robby was just being a good friend.

So Jack smiled and shrugged. "I am fully here and could not be happier. Now, what do we got?"

***

Jack truly thought that was the end of it, so he answered the unknown number not thinking anything in particular, until he had a too-friendly guy saying, "This is Dave Maines, Chief Financial Officer of Centennial Hospital. I know you got our email with the offer, but of course we want to assure you that's just our opening position."

"The fuck—how do you know that?" Jack asked without thinking because what? They were tracking what emails he opened now? And they thought it was good to say this aloud?

"Oh, you know technology," Maines said vaguely. "The important thing is you shouldn't consider that a final number."

These fucking soulless ghouls. "How'd you guys even get wind of me?" Jack asked, annoyed, wondering how he could stop this from ever happening again.

"Our current chief attending has spoken highly of your case studies."

"Fuck me. I don't even publish that much," Jack protested.

"But when you do, it gets attention. You're one of the most commonly-cited emergency department physicians," he said cheerily, like Jack would give a single flying fuck.

"That's cute. Look, this is not a negotiating tactic. I really am not interested. Bye." And he hung up.

The thing was, Jack really didn't publish much. He only published case studies that he thought would help other ED doctors, when crazy shit happened and the creative solution Jack pulled out of his ass actually worked. Those were usually the times Walsh got nuclear-level pissed at him, so that was generally what got him started writing. Because he was not above publishing out of spite.

Besides, he appreciated it when his peers offered new solutions, passing on knowledge, so he tried to do the same. And the Pitt must be worse than most places because he regularly got 'holy shit' emails from other doctors, like they couldn't believe he'd actually done some of the stuff he'd described.

But it wasn't like he was some authority. He was just trying to make it through the shift and have his patients not die along the way. And maybe piss off Walsh, if he could manage it. He certainly didn't want this kind of attention.

It was a no-win situation—because it wasn't like he was going to stop publishing, especially if it could be useful. Jack was still stewing on it when Robby arrived for his next shift. He actually looked rested for once, the lines around his eyes softer than normal, no crinkle in his forehead. It was probably pathetic how happy that made Jack.

Whatever, he'd take what he could get.

But when Robby looked at Jack, that crinkle between his brows did appear, like he saw something troubling. And Jack didn't get that—he'd just been in the bathroom and he looked fine; his hair wasn't even matted from holding his head in his hands. The shift had actually gone okay, all things considered.

"What?" Jack asked, wondering what had that energy of concern swamping Robby again.

"You know you can talk to me," Robby said, soft, like he was making sure. "About anything." He stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets, like he didn't know what to do with them, eyes wide and watching Jack closely.

"I know," Jack said, easy, because he did. And it wasn't like there was some problem. Everything was fine. "You know the same goes for you, right?"

Robby nodded slightly, lips curving up, fond. "Yeah." Then he seemed to come to something, going more casual. "Hey, I was thinking of making tacos tomorrow, watching the game," he said, his usual run-up to an offer.

"Fuck yeah. I'll bring the beer." Robby's taco setup was awesome, but his beer taste was questionable, so this was the perfect division of labor.

Robby lifted unimpressed eyebrows, the lines in his forehead deepening. "Someone invite you?"

"Too bad you mentioned it to the one person with a key to your place. Bad opsec there, brother."

"Your Army slang confuses me," he deadpanned.

"You'll find out what it means tomorrow," Jack shot back, patting him on the shoulder.

Robby's huffed laugh warmed him all the way out.

***

Jack showed up with six-packs of Negra Modelo and Pilsner Urquell. There was no way they'd make it through them all, but he was determined to break Robby of his shitty IPA habit. It would happen any decade now.

He let himself into the building, but actually knocked at Robby's door, because manners. Robby opened it—

And Jack tried not to stare. Robby wore well-fitted jeans and a brown henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his Chai tattoo dark at his wrist. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, showing dark chest hair and a hint of skin, the chain of his Star of David glinting in the light. His bare feet were almost obscene.

He looked relaxed and content, like he'd been happily cooking, and he brightened when he saw Jack. "About time. I was about to break out the craft IPA I just bought."

"Man, don't threaten me," Jack shot back, stepping in and handing over one of the six-packs. He breathed deep, smelling marinating meat, onion, and slightly-burnt tortillas. As Robby shut the door, Jack turned to him with a little smile. "You make me carne asada?" he drawled, delighted. Robby slow-cooked his carne asada all day; it was Jack's favorite.

Robby shot him a haughty sort of look. "I made me carne asada. You can have some, I guess." His brown eyes twinkled as he headed for the kitchen.

Jack followed, scanning Robby's place automatically—the TV was already on and muted in the sitting area, the most comfortable chocolate leather couch in the world just waiting for them. Across the open-plan layout was the kitchen, chips and guacamole already on the brown marble island, along with filled water glasses. Robby had all the taco fixings set up along the prep counter, square white plates waiting to be filled.

Robby set the Negra Modelo on the island, Jack following suit with the Pilsner Urquell. He instantly grabbed a chip and dunked it in the guacamole. He made a satisfied noise as he downed it. "And you made me guacamole. Spoiling me," Jack drawled, going for another chip.

"I know what you like," Robby drawled, shooting him a warm glance that tingled down Jack's spine, heat curling through him, totally against his will.

But then Robby was turning to the cupboard that held the glassware. "You want the beer glasses you bought for yourself or to stick with bottles?"

"A man can't give a useful gift?" Jack teased, unrepentant. He'd gotten Robby a set of imperial pint glasses as a housewarming gift when he'd moved into the condo a few years back. Robby had never let him forget it. "And fuck yeah, might as well use them."

Robby just laughed and retrieved two, spinning Jack's toward him across the island as he grabbed a Negra Modelo and started pouring. "We should fill our plates. Game's about to start."

"God help us."

***

God did not help them, it turned out.

Jack threw himself back against the couch in disgust, the Pens losing by 4; it wasn't even close. "They do this to hurt me."

On his side of the couch, Robby crooked a half-smile. "I'm sure that's top of mind at warmup: how can we hurt Jack Abbot today?"

"It makes about as much sense as anything. I mean, what the fuck, Nedeljkovic? He was a fucking sieve tonight. Does he remember that he's supposed to stop the puck? Do I need to tell him?"

Robby shot him a quelling glance. "That defense did him no favors, man. It's not all him."

"Guy has one job," Jack insisted.

"Pretty sure he's got more than that," Robby drawled, teasing. He never got as upset at the Pens' persistent shittiness as Jack did, which was itself annoying. Maybe it was because Robby was a hometown boy; he'd been on the rollercoaster for his whole life. Jack had moved here to a team on the upswing, a ride to back-to-back Cup wins, only for this slow decline into mediocrity ever since. It was depressing.

Robby sipped at his third beer; he'd had one each and gone back for seconds on the Pilsner Urquell, which Jack was silently crowing about. And hell, if that was the only win he could claim from today, he'd take it.

Realizing he was staring at the line of Robby's throat as he swallowed, Jack pulled his eyes away. He grabbed his own beer from the coffee table, their empty plates pushed aside, the chips and guacamole almost gone. Jack took a hasty sip, wetting his throat, as Robby grabbed for the remote and mercifully shut off the TV. Good. They could just...ignore the pain.

"You know, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about," Robby said, voice hesitant.

Jack looked over at him, Robby bathed in the warm glow of the lights, set against the green accent wall behind him. The henley emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, skin lightly flushed from the beer and shouting at the TV. And the bare feet on the coffee table were killing him. Jack wasn't even a foot guy; it was just the vulnerability of it. This was Robby in repose, all masculine and handsome and perfect.

Dimly, Jack realized he was staring again. "What's up?" he tried, hoping his pause hadn't gone on too long.

Robby took a breath and turned his body toward Jack, folding a leg under him. "I got a call from the CMO of Centennial," he said, soft.

Jack stilled. "Those manipulative fucks." Against his will, he was impressed. If there was one person he wouldn't dodge, it was his current boss, even if they weren't also friends. Jack would give them points for persistence. But also: fuck them.

Robby shot him an exasperated look. "They said they offered you chief attending, asked if I'd talk to you about it. Apparently they're having some trouble getting you on the phone."

"Because they don't listen when I tell them to go fuck themselves," Jack said obviously, sipping his beer.

"Maybe you shouldn't say that to the people who want to employ you?" Robby offered, light.

"I didn't ask for that. They're the ones harassing the attending just trying to live his life."

Robby shot him a come on sort of look. "It sounds like a good opportunity, though. It might be worth hearing them out."

"Nah."

Robby just stared at him, like he was waiting for more. "That's it? You gonna give me anything more than, 'nah?'"

"What's more to say? I'm not looking to move."

"But—it's chief attending for a level 1 trauma center," Robby protested, like Jack was being criminally slow.

"In Colorado."

Robby shrugged, like yeah and. "Colorado's nice. Healthy. It'd be a different vibe."

"In a city where I know zero humans. I'd have to leave Dana. Parker. Stan. You," he added, like that wasn't the most devastating thing. Like the thought of leaving Robby didn't make his chest ache and skin itch. Even if it was only this, all it could ever be. The idea still hurt.

Robby inclined his head reasonably. "Well, sure, but you'd meet new people."

"Man, that's not how people work. You can't just swap in new versions." He shot Robby an obvious look. He should know this.

"I don't—that's not what I meant. My point is that there's nothing really tying you to Pittsburgh. Not like people with kids and family here. You could...go," he said, maybe questioning...or maybe lost, Jack couldn't really tell.

Either way, Jack viscerally rejected that idea. Nothing tying him here? Bullshit. But Robby didn't need to hear about that, so he just shook his head. "I don't want to."

Frustration raced across Robby's face, like they were going around in circles. "But why?"

"That isn't enough? It's my life, I do what I want," he bit back, annoyed now. "Man, why are you pushing this? What does it matter to you?"

Robby looked at him, so open and earnest. "I want what's best for you. You not even considering it just seems—you're not an irrational person," he said, switching tracks.

Which was Robby's way of calling him irrational. "Correct," Jack bit out. "And this is a rational decision."

Robby made an annoyed noise. "But it doesn't make sense—"

Jack's patience snapped. He finally just said it: "Robby, I don't want to be where you're not." His heart pounded in the silence afterward, the sense of too much racing through him. That was too much, too honest, too close to a truth Robby remained ignorant of. For good reason.

Robby blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes. "...oh," he finally said, small, that one word telling Jack that he'd taken his meaning. But also saying it answered something for him, maybe. Fuck.

"Yeah. So just—leave it," Jack said, short.

He grabbed his beer and stalked out to the balcony, leaning up against the railing, sucking in a crisp breath, trying to cool his overheated skin as he took in the Pittsburgh night. Robby had a corner condo with a great view out over the city. Now it sparkled in the dark, endless twinkling lights, a mass of humanity out there loving and living. There was something comforting in that anonymous sprawl; maybe he wasn't the only one making bad decisions out here, uncommonly clear and not too cold. The perfect night.

The perfect night to lay himself bare before Robby, apparently, and wasn't that just a kick in the head. He knew Robby would be cool about it—that was just the kind of man Robby was—but Jack would prefer not to hear any version of the 'let's be friends' speech. He knew the deal.

He sipped his beer and waited, just breathing, letting his heart calm. That Robby hadn't immediately come after him meant one of two things. Either he was freaking out or he was giving Jack a minute. Robby wasn't one to duck conflict when it came to other people's feelings, just his own, so Jack knew he wasn't getting out of talking about it. He couldn't decide which option was worse, though. Robby freaking out was understandable. But if he was giving Jack a minute out of kindness—hell, maybe out of pity—that felt worse somehow.

Jack resigned himself to just feeling like shit for one reason or another. Might as well give in to the inevitable.

When the balcony door opened, Jack drained the rest of his beer, setting the empty glass on the low table Robby kept here, matching the two chairs. They sometimes came out here to drink and watch the sunset, when they were both off and the weather was good. Jack wondered if they'd still get to do that now. Robby might see it as too romantic or something.

Jack wondered if they'd get to do a lot of things now.

Robby joined him at the railing, bumping his shoulder companionably. It sent a rush of relief through Jack, so overwhelming it made him a little lightheaded. At least Robby wouldn't be clutching his pearls, keeping a careful distance. Jack was more grateful for that than he even knew what to do with.

"You could've told me about the offer," Robby said quietly.

Jack shrugged and steepled his hands together, forcing himself not to fidget. That wasn't Robby's first question; he was easing them into it. "It would've been a non-issue if Centennial knew how to take a no. Someone needs to tell them about consent."

Robby hummed something amused, looking over at Jack, then away again. "You're really not even considering it?"

"The way they handled this was just wrong, man. At every step. Every time someone talks to me about this, they start with the money. 'Let me tell you about our generous compensation package.' They use that same phrase, too, like they get to define generous."

"Is it?" he asked, seeming curious.

Jack nodded, looking out at the sparkling lights, tiny beacons in the dark. All the way up here, it felt like they were in their own world, just him and Robby and inky darkness. "A hundred grand more a year, give or take."

Robby whistled, like he couldn't help it. "That's a lot of money, man."

Jack shrugged and looked over. The lights from the condo behind them cast odd shadows, the line of Robby's cheek lit up brilliantly, much of the rest of him melding into darkness. He was a little breathtaking like this, half in the light, half not. "Yeah, and what am I gonna do with it? I own my condo and my car. I have no debt and multiple retirement accounts and hold a truly irresponsible amount in cash. Like, a parade of financial advisers have looked at me in horror."

"It's nice to know it's there," Robby murmured, looking down, like he well knew. Hell, he probably did. They'd both grown up without much.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, feeling that. It was safety, of a kind, the money. Knowing that if something happened, your life wouldn't fall apart because you couldn't scrape together a few nickels. "But it's not like I need more of it. I don't yearn to Scrooge McDuck my way through my piles of gold. That's psycho shit. But these people, it's like they can't imagine any other reason to do anything. Every time I turn them down, they come back and offer me more."

"It's thing one for most people," Robby said, soft.

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm not most people." Then he snorted. "Getting blown up half a world away tends to give you some perspective."

"Still, turning down a hundred grand raise," Robby said, like the thought blew his mind. "And the job. You'd get to hire your own staff, run it how you want."

"I like how you run it," he said simply, because why mess with something that was working? As well as it could work, given the truly fucked up system that was American healthcare. "When I think about what I want for the job, it's to have you as my chief attending until you retire and then I'm done, too."

"And outside the job?" Robby looked over and watched him so steadily, something working in his eyes.

Jack looked away, dodging that. "I like my life. It's taken a lot to get to a place where I can say that. I don't want to blow it all up for some zeroes on a check. What's the point of that?"

"That's a lotta zeroes, though," Robby said again, stuck on that. "Over ten years, you're talking a million bucks. More with raises."

Jack just looked at him, figuring he might as well. "They could offer me a million a year and the answer's the same."

Robby sucked in a sharp breath. "But that's...crazy," he said, faint. "And for what? Beer and tacos and a hockey team that can't get its shit together? We'd keep in touch."

"Don't fucking lie to me," Jack snapped.

Robby blinked, like he hadn't expected that heat. "We could," he insisted.

"Man, you don't even keep in touch with people who live in Pittsburgh. I would never fucking see you again." The idea actually hurt. Jack knew that he was alone in his feelings...and that was fine. They could still be friends, brothers, comrades in arms. It was good. It was enough.

But then Jack considered a worse thought: maybe he was the only one invested in that, too. "Don't you—doesn't that idea bug you? That I'd just walk out of your life?" Only once he asked the question did he realize how much it was gonna suck when Robby laughed it off as just the way life goes.

Instead Robby looked stricken. "That's not—I don't mean it like that. I'd hate that. Of course I would. But you grew up just like I did. You don't turn down that kind of money. Not over just...some guy."

Jack looked at him, sharp. "You're not just some guy."

"Man, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow," Robby said, flat.

"And I'll thank you to avoid that."

"I'm not worth that," Robby said, looking down, deep furrows in his brow, like this was the crux of it. "It's a hundred grand a year. That's—I'm not worth that," he said again, lower.

Figuring what the hell, Jack corrected him: "No, you're priceless." Robby's gaze snapped to him, something like shock in his eyes as Jack continued on. "There isn't a number, Robby. It does not exist. I have what I need. It's enough."

Robby stared at him, looking for all the world like Jack had stunned him beyond speech. And that was an accomplishment, he thought. Robby always had something eloquent to say, even when he was being a dick about it.

After a long, long moment, Robby finally shook his head. "What if it could be more?" he asked, voice catching on it, rough.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, not following.

"I know it's enough. It's good," Robby said, like he wanted that to be clear. "But what if it could be more than that?"

"How is it more than good?" Jack asked, feeling slow, his heart pounding oddly at the emotion on Robby's face.

Robby rubbed at the back of his neck, expression like he was girding himself for something. "Just—tell me if I'm a dumbass." Then Robby leaned in—

Time slowed as Robby neared, the sheer presence of him scattering Jack's thoughts. It seemed impossible even as Robby pressed their mouths together, a dry press of lips that nonetheless shot fire straight through Jack. Because Robby was kissing him, wanted him, wanted more with him. The sense of unreality swamped him right alongside the rush of desire, the kiss clinging. Jack didn't know anything—clearly—but he knew enough to tilt his head and kiss back, making a soft sound against Robby's mouth.

A shaky hand came up to his cheek as Robby pulled back and met his eyes, searching for something. Whatever he saw made his lips curl up slightly—

And then he was leaning in again, the kiss firmer this time. Jack turned himself into Robby's body and opened his mouth, Robby's tongue flicking into his mouth, lighting him up. Jack groaned and sank into the kiss, just giving in to how much he wanted it. He'd always wanted it, ever since he'd walked into Trauma-2 to meet the dayshift attending and found Robby with his hand deep in a guy's chest. He'd looked up and met Jack's eyes, a little zing passing through him as Robby had said, "You must be Dr. Abbot. Gimme a minute, I've got someone's heart in my hands and I've been told I take that for granted."

In the present, Robby got a hand around his shoulders and pulled Jack in, their bodies connecting in a delicious press of muscle and heat. Robby was taller than Jack, broad, all appealing strength and now Jack got to feel it, curling his arms around him as they kissed and kissed. They found a rhythm, mouths melding together like they'd been doing this for years, hot and yearning.

After long, scorching kisses, Robby pulled back, leaning his forehead against Jack's and panting, like he'd run a race. Like he'd taken a risk.

Jack swallowed against his dry throat. "I didn't know that was an option," he said, voice shaking.

Robby pulled back to meet his eyes, his own dark and glinting. Turned on, Jack realized, reeling. "It's an option," he confirmed.

"You're a dumbass, but not about this," Jack said, not quite believing this was how it could go. This wasn't how it worked. Robby was supposed to let him down.

Instead Robby's eyes softened, his hand cupping Jack's cheek again, eyes tracing all over his face, like he was trying to memorize the moment. "I want the more," he confessed, low and a little helpless, like fuck if he knew what he was doing. But he was doing it anyway.

Jack lunged for him. "Take me to bed," he growled against Robby's mouth, hands gripping at his arms.

Robby sucked in a sharp breath.

***

Which was how Jack found himself kissing Robby on the way to his bedroom, heat coursing through him as they groped each other, stumbling into walls and the bedroom doorjamb, lust flaring between them. Robby hit the lights on his way in the bedroom and Jack had been here before, but never like this, never with Robby's mouth on his, Robby's hands tracing over his arms, down his back, pulling him close, like he couldn't get enough.

Robby found skin first, pushing Jack's t-shirt up and off, light fingers sliding over Jack's chest and abs, Robby's eyes wide, blinking at the sight of him, like he was unexpected. Which was weird because Robby had seen him shirtless at work, it wasn't like Jack had changed much, but Robby was looking at him like he was something new. Special, maybe. It sent his heart pounding, the realness of this slamming into Jack. He was really here, about to take Robby to bed, his literal fantasies come true. He didn't know how he was here...but he also wasn't going to question it. Not when it felt this good, everything he wanted here for the taking. Jack leaned up to kiss Robby again, pushing at his henley, suddenly desperate to feel his skin.

They kissed and stripped and kissed some more as they got to the bed. Jack made quick work of Robby's jeans, shoving them off, followed by his boxer briefs, until it was just Robby and skin and the Star of David necklace, glinting in the low light. He was strong, but soft, all dark hair interspersed with gray—along his chest and belly, his legs, the base of his cock. Robby was hard for him, long and thick, filling Jack's hand nicely. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you," he murmured, taking Robby's mouth again, flicking his tongue in.

Robby moaned into the kiss, halting, fumbling with Jack's belt, his hands shaking. Something that blew Jack's mind a little bit because Robby's hands never shook.

So Jack helped, nudging Robby back to sit on the bed while Jack took care of his own clothes. He sat beside Robby to take off the prosthetic, Robby's hand landing on his back, just stroking there, like he wanted to touch. It sizzled through Jack for all that it wasn't sexual at all; Robby wanted hands on him.

When he'd gotten rid of the prosthetic and kicked off his boxer briefs, he turned into Robby, finding his mouth again, tugging a little at his beard. Their kisses were open and wet, all-consuming, Robby's hand tracing down over his chest, belly, hip, exploring. More heat slid through him, Jack hard and wanting, but that could wait. He broke the kiss to pant against Robby's mouth. "Can I?"

Robby was flushed, already sex-dazed, eyes glassy. "What?"

"I want to suck you," Jack tried again.

Robby inhaled sharply, lust racing across his face. He swallowed, hard, and finally managed, "If you insist."

Jack grinned and promptly dropped to the floor, hearing Robby suck in another sharp breath. But Jack was too busy spreading Robby's legs, making space for himself between them, Robby's cock hard bobbing in the air obscenely. Jack looked up to find Robby staring at him like he couldn't believe this was happening, overwhelmed. Jack flashed a tiny grin and took hold of his cock, licking over the head delicately, just a taste.

Robby made some kind of high noise in his throat.

Jack huffed a laugh over his cock, Robby shivering. "Oh, you are gonna make the best noises, I can already tell," he said—

And then he swallowed him down.

"J—Jack!" Robby cried out, shock in his voice that was kinda unwarranted, if you thought about it; what did he think Jack was doing between his legs?

Jack just pulled back up so that only the head of Robby's cock was in his mouth. He held Robby's eyes as he sucked, hollowing his cheeks, knowing the effect it had.

"Fuck," Robby said passionately, cupping Jack's cheek so, so delicately, like he didn't want to hurt him.

Jack pulled off. "You can manhandle me," he offered, tossing him a little smile before he opened his mouth and went back down. He curled his hand around the base of Robby's cock, moving in counterpoint to his mouth, letting spit slide out, slicking the way.

Robby groaned and got his hand at the nape of Jack's neck, tugging at the curls there, pleasure shivering through him at the bite of it. Jack moaned in approval, around Robby's cock. Robby made some choked off noise, his expression slack with pleasure, then tugged at his hair, almost testing. Jack moaned again, encouraging, as he slid his mouth back up. He shot Robby an encouraging look as he licked over the head.

At which point Robby got on board and firmed his hand, guiding Jack onto his cock, pushing him down, his lips meeting his hand. Robby moaned freely, face rapturous. "Fuck, Jack," he breathed, eyes on Jack's face like it was the hottest thing he'd seen as he guided Jack back up to the tip.

Pleasure swirled through Jack, the knowledge that he could make Robby look like that its own kind of high. He trailed his tongue along the underside of Robby's cock the next time he went down, but where Robby stopped, he went further, swallowing him all the way down, throat working.

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck," Robby muttered, his free hand cupping Jack's jaw, fingers along his throat, feeling him swallow. Tears pricked at Jack's eyes, but he ignored it, letting himself choke a little on Robby's cock, letting Robby hear it.

Robby's helpless whine was a thing of beauty. Jack's cock actually pulsed.

Then Jack was moving back up, sucking in air as his hand rotated along Robby's cock. He pulled off to tongue the head, laving over his frenulum and getting a gasp, before Jack went back down, Robby's hand hard in his hair. He rolled Robby's balls as he swallowed him, getting a full-body shudder.

Robby's hand gripping tighter in his hair was all the warning he got before Robby pulled Jack's mouth onto his cock, harder. Jack went with it, swallowing him again, tamping down on his gag reflex, swallowing and swallowing and swallowing, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks.

Robby made a keening noise, gasping. "Fuck, Jack, I can't—" he said, voice cracking, hands flexing in his hair, uncontrolled.

A rush of power flowed through Jack; he did that. He had the oh-so-controlled Dr. Robby shaking and clutching at him, beside himself. He moved up again, pulling off with a pop, a string of saliva connecting his mouth and Robby's cock, which was hard and red and slick. Robby touched a tear track on Jack's cheek, hand shaking, expression a mess of disbelief and desire. It was a look that rushed want clear through Jack, desire pulsing with every breath he took.

Jack just leaned into Robby's touch and met his eyes. "I want you to fuck my mouth, Mike," he said, voice all gravelly.

Shocked lust raced over Robby's face, nostrils flaring as he breathed in. Jack didn't give him time to recover, he just went down on him again, humming in pleasure when Robby's hand gripped in his hair. Jack went all the way down, pressing back against the hand in his hair until Robby muttered, "Okay, fine."

Pressure on his head forced him down until he had no choice but to swallow Robby's cock, Jack thrilling at Robby in control. Robby held him there, his hips moving restlessly, thrusting deeper into Jack's throat, desperate little choked-off gasps revealing his pleasure. Jack cradled his balls as Robby's sounds got louder, movements more desperate.

Pressure expanded in Jack's chest, the need to breathe getting stronger, but Robby was arching over him, grunting as he fucked up into Jack's throat, fully past sense in a way that had Jack flying, halfway there without even being touched. More tears slid down his cheeks, his throat starting to hurt, but he didn't stop, just took everything Robby gave him, sliding his fingers down to tease along his perineum—

Robby shouted his name and went rigid, his cock pulsing in Jack's mouth. Jack kept swallowing, moving with the shuddering of Robby's hips, milking it until Robby made a pained noise, like he couldn't.

That was when Jack pulled off, coughing, sucking in air, trying to regulate his hitching breaths, his mouth feeling used, jaw aching. A glance up showed Robby collapsed flat on the bed, his chest heaving, uneven, like he'd forgotten how to breathe. His hand covered his face, like he was hiding from something.

Mission accomplished then.

Jack wiped the spit from his mouth and climbed up onto the bed, his cock hard against his belly, demanding. He crawled over to Robby, tugging that hand away so he could see his expression—shattered, reeling. Robby looked at him with desolate eyes and made some helpless gesture. "You fucking ruined me."

Jack smiled. "Good."

Robby just stared at him. "What the fuck," he muttered, like he didn't understand, shaking fingers brushing at the tear tracks on Jack's cheeks.

"You're perfect," Jack murmured, feeling the truth of it as he leaned down to kiss him.

Robby made a wanting noise into the kiss, getting an arm around Jack's back to yank him down, his body a long line of heat against Jack, cock snug against Robby's hip, making him moan into the kiss. "I didn't—I didn't know you were doing that," Robby said between kisses, some kind of edge to his voice. Like he didn't enjoy the thought.

"Not much these days," Jack offered, kissing him back, fierce and sloppy. "I wanted it to be you," he added, pulling back to look at Robby, meaning it.

Robby growled something hot and vicious, rolling him back and looming over him to take his mouth, long and deep, before he kissed his way down Jack's jaw. He mouthed lower and bit at the junction of his neck, right where it would show above his scrubs. "You dick," Jack laughed, getting a hand in Robby's hair.

Robby just made a playful noise and kept going, kissing down to his pecs, scraping his teeth over a nipple in a way that made Jack shudder, before sucking it in.

"Fuck, man," Jack murmured, pressing up against his mouth, cock aching.

But Robby just held him down, kissing lower, in an undeniably downward direction, Jack groaning at the realization. Robby looked up at him with a grin before he slid down Jack's body, took hold of his cock, and sucked the head into his mouth.

Warm wetness and glorious suction sent his mind spinning, Jack moaning, uncontrolled. He got a hand around Robby's chin, feeling him open wider. Little lines appeared on Robby's forehead as he took him deeper, tongue pressed to the underside of his cock. But even as Jack reveled in the bliss of it, part of his brain took note of Robby's hesitation, how he didn't quite have the rhythm, going down too fast and then pulling up abruptly, not using his hand on the base, a decidedly amateur effort. The realization sizzled through Jack; if this wasn't the first time Robby had a cock in his mouth, it was one of the few.

"So good, Robby," he murmured, sliding his hand into Robby's hair to tug him up.

Robby pulled off, stroking him lightly even as he let Jack draw him back up and into a kiss. Jack slowed it down, reveling in the press of their mouths, feeling Robby settle against him.

After a moment, Robby looked down at Jack's cock, still stroking it lightly, enough to tease, but not enough to get him off. "Don't you want..."

Jack made an indulgent noise. "I want to kiss you," he said, doing just that as he reached over to the nightstand, taking a guess and opening the drawer.

Score, Robby had a bottle of lube right where he expected, Jack grabbing it as Robby sucked at his jaw. He flipped the cap and drizzled the slick over Robby's hand. "Touch me," he said, voice low.

Robby lunged for his mouth, his kiss fiery as his hand encircled Jack's cock, hard and slick and perfect. And then Robby was jerking him off, quick and firm, expert because every man knew how to do this.

Jack moaned into his mouth and fucked into his fist, letting himself be loud in his enjoyment, Robby groaning, "Yeah," into his mouth, like Jack's pleasure was all he wanted. A warm hand cupping his balls was all it took to tip Jack over the edge, orgasm a rush of fire down his spine, shuddering into Robby's fist, warmth spilling between them.

Robby worked him through it perfectly, pulling back to watch Jack's face as he came all over Robby's fist, his dazed expression somehow just as hot as him stripping Jack's cock.

After, Jack panted, shaking a little with the aftershocks of pleasure, in time with his heart. He pulled Robby close and Robby went with it, draping himself over Jack's body despite the mess of come between them. He rested his head on Jack's shoulder, one leg thrown over both of Jack's, their sweat mingling, the scent of sex strong in the room.

And then peace descended over them as they just breathed and touched and drifted together, both of them calming from the high.

Eventually Robby pulled himself away, rolling over to snag his shirt from the floor. He used it to wipe Jack down, then himself, cleaning up the mess they'd made. Robby tossed the shirt aside, then turned back to Jack, tugging the brown comforter out from underneath them, maneuvering them into the crisp white sheets. Robby buried his head a pillow, threw an arm over Jack's waist, and was instantly out.

Jack snorted and ran a fond hand over his hair, closing his own eyes as sleep tugged at him.

"Not a dumbass at all," he murmured.

Then the darkness enveloped him.

***

Jack woke after a good catnap, a few solid hours of deep sleep. Now that he was out of the haze of lust and shock, he still faintly reeled. Because...how? How did he miss Robby wanting him? When it was all he'd been thinking about for years?

He studied Robby, still deep under, the white sheet flung over his body, head buried in a pillow. He had succumbed to sleep, breathing deep and even, a sense of peace about him that made Jack so fucking glad.

Like he felt the scrutiny, Robby's breathing changed, his eyelids fluttering as he woke. Jack just stared, his chest going tight at this tiny miracle, Robby blinking open big brown eyes and focusing on him, smiling a little. "Hey."

"Hey," Jack said, inane. Just looking at him.

Robby looked right back, pillow lines on his face, his hair sticking out every which way. Jack reached out and poked at the little wayward poof right at the center of his forehead, Robby smiling, the lines crinkling around his eyes. He grabbed Jack's hand, kissing his palm, holding Jack's eyes—

It got him moving, into Robby's space, crowding close to kiss him, long and lingering. Robby cupped his cheek, his expression almost reverent.

Jack pressed a hand to his chest, tangling his fingers in the Star of David necklace, wondering where to start. "Can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?" Robby shot back, dry.

Jack grinned. "You know me well." Then he went serious, gesturing between them. "Your first time with a guy?" he guessed.

Robby snorted. "Jesus. That bad, huh?" he asked, self-deprecating, something like vulnerability flashing over his face.

"No," Jack said instantly, remorse swamping him. He hadn't meant to make him feel bad. He leaned in to kiss Robby to make the point. "No," he repeated, softer.

Robby shot him a bullshit look. "And yet." He gestured to Jack.

"Your hands were shaking," Jack murmured, soft. "Your hands never shake."

The corner of Robby's mouth lifted. "You are the exception that proves the rule, it seems."

That warmed Jack, affection rushing through him at Robby not avoiding this. "Gotta be honest, I had you pegged as the most straight."

Robby nodded, almost meditative. "I would've said the same." Even so, he slid a hand down Jack's arm, just feeling him.

"When did that change?" And how had Jack missed it?

"Pittfest. I was just...so lost in it. So deep in the hole. And then there you were, like a fucking lifeline. A North Star. And you got me mixing my metaphors, so you know it was a thing." He took a shaky breath. "What you said on the roof—so fucking what that I broke, everybody breaks. That stayed with me, after. Gene, my therapist, he dug in on it. Asking me why I discounted what I know to be true in blaming myself, but when you said it, I could believe it. And even just hearing myself talk about you...god. It was mortifying."

Jack grinned. "Yeah?"

"The most teenage crush you've ever heard in your life. I was just trying to tell him how incredible you are, that when you say something it matters—and jesus, I'm doing it again, right now," he despaired, rubbing a hand over his face.

Jack shot him a cocky look. "I mean, it's true. I am amazing."

"Add me to your list of pathetic admirers, right after the cute residents. This is how far I've fallen."

"Well, we fell right into bed, so I'm cool with it."

Robby shot him a look that was both fond and despairing, which made Jack laugh. Then he softened, going thoughtful. "Of course Gene saw something was up. He gave me homework. You know, think about what you mean to me. Which turned into a whole thing."

Jack preened a little, just to make Robby smile. "I converted you."

Robby didn't disappoint, going exasperated. "You may have raised some questions it was easier not to examine until now. And it wasn't particularly easy now." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gene says it's not uncommon for our generation. Who knew," he drawled.

"The kids, probably."

"God help us, the kids," Robby agreed.

"But—I don't get it. If I converted you and you're all about me—"

"Oh, is that what happened," Robby muttered.

Jack ignored him and continued: "Why push the job thing?"

"I thought you might be turning it down because you were worried about me, you know? That you'd been there before, you knew how dark it was, and didn't want to upset my apple cart. I was going to say—" His voice wobbled, like it was hard, "that you should go. Not to worry about me because I was doing better."

"Are you?" Jack asked, soft.

Robby didn't even hesitate to nod. "Yeah. I mean, it completely blows; therapy is not a fun time, but Gene's—he makes good points. Doesn't let me get away with anything. I'm working on it." He shrugged, kind of accepting that was where he was at.

Which for Robby, ever the perfectionist, was huge. "Man, I am so fucking glad to hear that." Then he thought about what Robby had actually said. "So you were just gonna be all self-sacrificing and let me go. What'd Gene think of that?"

"I...didn't run it by him," Robby said, sheepish.

"You don't say," Jack deadpanned.

"So it's good you got pissed and snapped at me." He went careful then, studying Jack. "Blowing off the job is completely insane, you realize."

"Only if you don't know what's important."

Robby's eyes went big, the little crease forming between his eyebrows. "I am so unequal to this. You're giving up crazy money and I'm fumbling around like some fucking teenager. It doesn't seem like a fair trade."

"Then it's a good thing it's not one. A relationship is not a fucking exchange for services rendered."

Robby watched him, almost mournful. "If I screw this up like I have every other thing, you may regret it."

Jack blew out a breath, marveling a little. "Wow, the money is really a thing for you, huh?"

Robby shrugged, which was as good as a yes.

"Okay, flip it around. Robby, would you like to move to Colorado with me?" he asked, tone making clear he meant it.

"Fuck, no," Robby said immediately.

Jack huffed a laugh. "Agreed. There. Now it's not me making a decision, it's us making one together, one that works for both of us. Does that help you?"

"Seems like a distinction without a difference. And you're still getting the worse end of the deal."

Jack shook his head. "I have been consoling myself with the idea that your friendship was enough. And it was. I really believe that. But if it can be more," he said, hearing his voice waver dangerously, shit. "If it can be more, that's the literal dream. And I'm grabbing hold with both hands. I deserve that. So fuck your doubts, we're doing this. We'll figure it out. You and me."

Robby went so soft, reaching out to run light fingers over Jack's cheekbone, a whisper of touch that sent warmth sweeping through him. He never thought Robby would look at him like that. He still couldn't believe it was real. But Robby was smiling a little, light in his eyes as he looked at Jack like he was something special. "We will. You and me."

And they did.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.