Gabi • 33 years old • fem • ace • french • in my GO 😇😈 and the Pitt fixation era • otherwise fond of horror, paranormal and frogs! Find me @wrbz on bluesky and @crazysmeg on insta.
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@theangelyouknew inspired me to make some different wallpaper for my phone. Here they are if you’d like to use them too. I just ask that you reblog and let me know if you liked them 💖🌃😇😈
Have some more wallpaper! NASA released some new photos, so I put them to good use 😇😈🌌✨
(The image of them fixing each other’s ties is a composite from here, The rest are actual photos. In a few of them I have edited out the microphone from the image)
[general image description: these are all photos of David Tennant and Michael Sheen pasted in front of various colorful images of nebulas]
It was only for a few years, a few almost peaceful years…He never did find that higher power. Maybe it wasn’t meant for him, someone so corrupted and dirty.
But that can’t be entirely true. John’s still here. Still alive and looking at him like there’s something worth saving. A real angel with the large brown eyes and beguiling smile. Someone so fucking trusting. God, he fell asleep the first night he brought Andrew to his house, even after seeing the scars and how his eyes constantly searched for weak points.
Andrew never learned how to not ruin something good.
Julie.
Amy.
Angela.
Lena.
His brothers.
If he were a better man he would’ve left by now. He thought about it, after a week and realizing John very well might let him stay forever. They hadn’t even slept together then. He snuck into John’s room, contrarily humble compared to the rest of the house, and he thought. Fuck he first thought about how easy it would be to rob him. The man made no effort to hide the valuables and would probably give Pope the code to the safe he most definitely had. The second thought was, he had to go. That men, animals, like him don’t belong in this celestial kingdom.
He could wire a car in his sleep and he didn’t remember the drive way having any gates. He’d be gone before John woke up. It’d be the right thing to do, keep him far away from the Codys and teach him to not trust very obvious criminals. It would be safer for this ridiculous man.
He didn’t leave.
It’s easy to blame the fancy jam and the housekeepers that seem to materialize out of nowhere to keep everything precisely in order. It’s easy to believe that he had already fell in love and vowed to be a better man. In reality it was far simpler, Andrew Cody wanted someone to follow and John Carter could oblige.
Two fundamentally broken men. Neither had to worry about fucking up the other. John was a couple years sober, fentanyl of all things, and was stubbornly trying to stay afloat in the very environment that led to his spiral in the first place. Pope still has every instinct instilled in him by Smurf, perpetually having to remind himself to be gentle. With the companionship they slowly try to heal.
Pope listens to Carter without judgement. All the traumas, all the betrays, all the lies. It’s not like he has any room to judge. He takes over the cooking and makes sure to always have a lunch packed for him. Carter accepts Pope’s quirks, the incessant need for everything to be just so, the compulsory checking, the paranoia that fades but is ever present. He softly but insistently encourages him to believe in himself, that he can be better.
They even start doing stuff together, like going to the theatre and hiking. Andrew gets his GED and has a job at the botanical garden; John sometimes visits him on his off days. They like to visit Sue the dinosaur when the weather is bad.
Somewhere along their journeys of healing they fall into the very same bed Andrew watched John sleep in all those years ago.
Neither are new to sex, but Andrew’s never felt vulnerable from it. Sex was for pleasure and dominance and to feel without processing. Sex with John, God he is inexplicably stripped of all pretense. He is utterly desperate to please John, anything for John. Perhaps Andrew Cody was always meant to serve, it would explain a lot. Smurf, the family, God for a brief moment. Yeah, he was alway a dog, snarling and gashing his teeth up to the moment he was ordered to heel.
John, for as much as he is an angel, still has blue blood. An inheritance that allows him to take without consideration, to find weakness and exploit it for his own gain. Even as Andrew pins his wrists and chokes him and leaves bruises and fucks him into unconsciousness and keeps going after, it’s all by his command. Subconsciously he sees that the stray mutt he picked up is eager to find its next owner. That it’ll do anything he says. All he had to do was show him a scrap of kindness.
The sex isn’t unenjoyable. He gets to touch John after all. It’s just, Andrew knows violence. Intimately. Violence is meant for men who are threats, women who betray the family, nameless person of the night who doesn’t matter.
Not John Carter.
Not the man whose hands have only ever tried to heal. Not the man who still cries about people who are long dead. Not for the man who saw a half burned Pope clinging onto life and thought, ‘this is worth saving’.
But Andrew is a soldier. A dog. And his master wants violence with his sex.
So Andrew will give him violence.
He hardens his voice and pretends John’s just another one of his men. He looks only at the wrists he pins. He closes his eyes when he feels his hands around John’s neck. He uses all his experience to leave bruises that sting like a bitch in the moment but only ache slightly after. He fucks like the animal he is, and he presses an hand to John’s pulse to remind himself he’s alive when he passes out.
It’s lust. Nothing more nothing less.
Clearly John Carter has desires that for some reason he doesn’t indulge in with someone else. No, he saw Andrew, saw the violence in his blood, and knew he could be useful.
Pope always must be useful.
Cleaning up after becomes a pleasure. It gives him plausible deniability to be tender with John, to carve out moments of softness that do not belong to him. He gets to gently run his hand on Carter’s body and pretend that he too could be someone who helps others. He must be doing something right because John always nods off.
In the after, that’s when Andrew sins.
He curls up to John and holds him to his chest. He plays with the thick mop of brown hair. He breathes in the scent of them.
For maybe an hour Andrew lets himself pretend John would let this happen while conscious. The intimacy is stolen and manufactured, he knows this. Knows these quiet moments are a pitiful delusion. A sinner imagining himself in heaven.
He always stops at the first sign of Carter waking. Any shift, broken breathe, or creased brow. He’s up and out of the room. Rich people don’t like the help overstaying their welcome.
It’s enough.
More than enough.
Pope’s lived on far less.
He may’ve started to stay even when Carter wakes up. Not holding him of course. Just in the bed with him, an appropriate amount of space between them.
It takes six months for Carter to catch on. Of course sex brings out the rich boy in him, so inconsiderate of others.
They’re making out, a relatively new addition.
“What do you want Andy?” He asks, breathless and curious, and maybe a little chagrined. “We always do what I want. Aren’t you tired of that?”
That’s a trick question if he’s ever heard one. A confusing one.
“No.” He answers too quickly, too robotically.
The mood’s not entirely dead, but it’ll be moving to hospice soon if nothing changes. John’s on top of him and is now using his elbows to prop himself up.
“Really?” The question’s good natured enough, but Andrew sees the intent underneath.
“Yes. I. I like this. With you.” True enough. Not clean enough to get away with the half truth.
The concern is growing and the mood is currently setting off every alarm. “Andrew…I. We’re. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”
He says it so earnestly.
No you don’t. You don’t want someone like me to hold you like a lover, to try and crawl into your ribcage.
“I enjoy what we do.” It comes out too small, too desperate.
John cups Andrew’s check, stroking it slightly. He can’t help to try to lean in. “Andrew, I want to do what you want to. I promise.”
He feels the hand gently move his face so he’s staring into intelligent brown eyes. “If it’s something I’m not comfortable with I swear I’ll tell you.”
He’s just desperate enough to believe him.
The mood is brought back to life through multiple shocks. Kisses initially sweet turning hungrier. Not the way they normally are, there’s a distinct lack of urgency.
Andrew knows what he’s doing is sacrilegious. There’s a high chance this’ll be the last time he’s in this bed. Why shouldn’t he savor this? His own torn off morsel of heaven.
He rolls them over so he can see John in his entirety. He looks dazed. Perfect.
Andrew hasn’t been religious in a long time. He still knows how to worship. How to demonstrate his adoration and devotion.
He touches and kisses and nips. Not to hurt, not even a little. It would be playful if he wasn’t completely focused on his ministrations. Taking in every second: the sound, the taste, the feel; all John, everything he’s ever wanted. Only for a moment. He’ll lavish in it for as long as he can.
There’s no consideration of his own pleasure. He’s more than satisfied to see John cum twice without so much as a brush against his cock or a finger on his prostrate. His own orgasm is sudden and unforgiving. One moment he’s licking at John’s inner thigh and listening to his moans, the next there’s white and he swears his ears are ringing.
It really does feel like he died and went to heaven.
That feels like as good of a sign as any to move along.
The fucking itself was gentle in the way he only dreams of. He stretches out John to the level he wants—two fingers more than normal—and takes his time putting his cock in. He waits for him to adjust and rocks slowly, purposefully. They’re missionary—a position they don’t ever use—and Andrew uses it to his advantage and holds John. He lets his hands trace nonsensical patterns into his skin and greedily steals a couple more kisses. He nibbles loves bites into the side of his neck and watches him turn bright red from the attention.
John’s crying out in frustration but his body seems to appreciate the change in pace. He makes sure to wring another orgasm about of him before he cums.
Instead of immediately getting up to clean the up, he snuggles into John. There’s a hand that buries itself into his curls. Not like Smurf, there’s no pain or possession, only tenderness. He relaxes into John’s chest. If he was a cat he’d be purring. If this is it then he can say he won’t leave with any regrets.
He lets himself drift slightly, wills himself to stay in the moment and enjoy this.
“I didn’t know.” John’s soft voice shatters the fabricated peace.
“Know what?”
“That this is what you wanted.”
Andrew swallows slightly. “It’s okay. We can go back to what you want.”
He notices John doesn’t make him get off him. “Seriously, I enjoy what we’ve got.”
He’s actually proud he doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t sound like bargaining at all.
“Andrew.” He looks up and sees an odd angle of John’s face. “I really enjoy this.”
He blinks. There’s no fucking way. “I enjoyed you spoiling me. But I mostly enjoyed seeing how happy you were.”
Now Andrew’s sitting up and facing John, who’s smiling and looking alarmingly rueful. “I’m sorry for not realizing what you wanted until now.”
Oh no. That’s not it. Andrew wasn’t lying before. He liked what they had because he got John. That’s all that mattered in the end. He’s used to it. Used to scraps and getting only a sliver of what he wanted.
He kisses John in lieu of saying any of this. It seems he got the message all the same.
John pulls away and examines Andrew, thoroughly. Reminding him that for all his goofiness and sweetness John Carter is still a respected physician—an achievement in of itself given his past.
He seems to be torn between pleased and troubled with his conclusions. “Oh Andy, sometimes I just want to hide you from the rest of the world.”
This kiss is considerable more forceful, as if Carter can actually claim him. Something young and forgotten turns onto its belly in complete surrender.
When they separate Andrew can’t help but blurt out, “Let me date you.”
They both are thrown off by the request. But Andrew knows how to dig in his heels. “Please?”
It’s considerably less confident than he’d like.
John stares at him for a second before throwing his head back and laughs. He immediately shrinks into himself. Of course he’d laugh. He’d rich and good and why would he tie himself to a crazy criminal?
John notices and quickly sobers up. “Oh shit, yeah of course I’d like to date you.” His smile turns sheepish. “I thought we were dating for the last two months.”
Andrew may have gawked at him for a second. Or seven.
The last two months. The months when he started to linger in bed.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. God we’re a mess.” He sounds disturbingly amused.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not like I said anything either.” The cheerful note is really off putting. Is this a normal thing for Carter? If so…well it should say something that Andrew is concerned.
“We really need to learn to talk.” He decided, if nothing else it’s an attempt to refocus the conversation.
“Yeah. Probably.” Again with the cheerfulness.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He doesn’t sound it. But at least he sounds more grounded now. “I really like you, and this relationship, even if it wasn’t really one, was probably the best I’ve ever had.”
The bar is in hell. Absolute fucking hell. Andrew will get around to telling him as much later. Right now he’s busy trying to fight the inner demons that are demanding he find all of John’s exes and make them suffer.
“I like what we are. You make me feel safe.” He decides on. John looks close to crying. “We should probably clean up.”
Suddenly the tackiness of his skin is unbearable. As is the heat and the smell and the sheets.
“Yeah.” John agrees, looking absolutely besotted and unconcerned about such trivial things.
Ridiculous. This man is ridiculous. Andrew treats himself to one last kiss before he get up, already knowing John will follow.
Maybe there is or isn’t a god. He certainly doesn’t know.
He doesn’t care.
He’s found someone to worship, someone who made him fell saved, someone who saw the whole of his souls and still loves him.
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perpetuating the myth of a "nursing shortage" only benefits the healthcare administrators fucking us over, giving them an excuse to claim that they can't help but short staff the hospitals because there just aren't nurses to fill those roles
nurses literally make up a full 1% of the US population. there is no nursing shortage
I come on here to present you another Popewhit headcanon...
Andrew driving Jack to work and in return picking Dennis up to take back to their place. Dennis doesn't get off on time so Andrew kind of just waits in the parked car in a sidestreet nearby because he knows he unsettles the people at the hospital, even tho Jacks has been trying to tell him he can just wait in their break room and tried to reassure him that they don't think that way about him but Andrew sees how people react to him, to his silence and his clenched jaw like they were looking at a Pitbull or a Doberman. A thing that could turn to violence at any moment.
And he hates that about himself.
So he kind of just waits until Dennis text him to drive up to the ambulance bay and pick him up.
When he does Andrew can tell its been a hard day, Dennis looks tired tired and they barely get down the street before Dennis nods off in the passenger seat. Andrew watches his face illuminate at every street light they stop at, drives more slow and calm and neatly avoids all the potholes so they don't shake the man by his side awake. Eventually he pulls into their street but Dennis is sleeping so soundly... so cute. Andrew can't bring himself to wake him so instead he drives another round around the block, just so he could leave Dennis at peace for a little longer
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Robby was watering his hydrangeas when trouble moved in next door.
He had seen the “for rent” sign on the property for a while now- long enough that it had faded in the background of his daily monotony. Long enough that when the truck rumbled up to the property and let out a sharp hiss of the brakes deploying, it made Robby jolt with surprise.
The young men piled out of the truck like clowns in a clown car; ribbing each other as they adjusted their baseball caps and hauled the back of the truck open. One young alpha clearly led the pack- still pup-faced and eager, the loping gait of a man whose body hadn’t started the downward spiral- carrying boxes in all his shirtless, sweaty glory alongside his friends into the townhouse next to his.
Robby loathed him the second he saw him.
He was the kind of alpha that just promised trouble; athletic, aesthetically pleasing to look at (he’d admit begrudgingly if asked), rambunctious and obviously a jock. Copper curls sticking to his nape from sweat and trying to break free from the backwards cap that contained them. He was the kind of guy in the movies Robby watched growing up who’d date the head cheerleader and give the main character swirlies in the toilet.
He could always tell when he finally registered on an alpha’s radar; most of the time he’s invisible since he’s over the age of 30, but on the off chance an alpha’s actually into that it’s always an ordeal he’d rather skip. The double take, the slow up and down, the preening, and then the confident walk up expecting Robby to be grateful he’s gained their attention. He hadn’t expected anything different from him.
Robby groaned mentally as the kid walked up to him and stuck his hand out to shake.
“Hi, Ma’am! I’m Jack Abbot, I’m moving in next door.” All-American charm and a scent that oozed from his pores from the workout; something bright and tart, sort of familiar…
“...I can see that.” Robby stated, not moving his unoccupied hand from his hip. Jack faltered slightly, his hand dipping down with his smile. This was the moment he’d huff and stomp off to his little troupe, grumbling about “stuck-up bitches.” Instead, he looked back towards the truck and chuckled sheepishly.
“S-sorry, I know we’re kind of being loud- I can ask them to quiet down a little.” That had Robby’s eyebrow raised slightly in surprise. He didn’t know they had self-aware models.
“Do what you want.” Robby replied, shutting off the spray nozzle of his hose. “Don’t knock over the pots.”
“Of course, Ma’am-”
“-it’s ‘Doctor’, actually.”
“Of course, Doctor.” The kid replied automatically, brow furrowing slightly as he processed the words. By then however, Robby was moving back inside. Shutting the door and shielding himself to the alpha’s gaze made him release a sigh of relief. It was for the best. The only type of milf pups like that have seen are the ones in porn categories; most of them changed their minds as soon as they saw stretch marks and c-section scars and sagging tits.
“Mamele? S’that?” Robby fixed his face quickly, smiling warmly at the little pup toddling up to him.
He couldn’t help but coo seeing his baby boy’s pretty blue eyes and little blonde curls.
“Just some silly neighbors being loud, Denny.” Robby leaned down to pick him up at the request of his outstretched hands, bringing him up with a soft groan to kiss his pudgy little cheek. He relished in the soft milky pup scent and the squeal he let out at his beard tickling his face.
“Tickles!” He giggled, patting Robby’s face with his hands as he moved through the house. He still had things to do besides dread the new neighbor- pack Dennis’s lunch, for one, before dropping him off to daycare on his way to the PTMC.
So in went the orange slices and sandwich and milk and crackers, all in the little barn shaped lunchbox Dennis picked that day with his adorable little plastic forks and spoons.
It was hard. Dennis had not quite been a part of Robby’s plan but now that he was in it he was determined to make it work. His sweet boy who made Robby get up and take care of himself, even just to make sure Dennis can get what he needs. While his body wasn’t what it used to be, he was grateful Dennis came along at a time where he could afford things like daycare and cartons upon cartons of raspberries that seemed to vanish into him like a black hole.
Thankfully the frat boys seemed to be inside while Robby hustled them out the door and into his dark green truck.
He tried to let the interaction roll off him, listening to Dennis’s mindless babble about the things he saw out the window.
Daycare drop off was always the same song and dance of distracting Dennis and then ducking away as soon as he was out of Dennis’s line of vision. God, he couldn’t wait to at least bitch to Dana about the new neighbor. He itched for a cigarette he knew he wouldn’t have.
Robby let the sounds and scents of the ER wash over him- that relentless clamoring choir of noise underlined by the hum of electricity that made the place feel living. He got his things put away quickly, eager to stave off the ordeal that would be Jack Abbot for another 12 hours.
“Rough night, Robby?” Dana asked, not taking her eyes off her computer as Robby leaned over the counter to talk.
“Rough neighbor, more like- just got this smart-ass alpha jock moving next door and I can already feel the migraine.” Robby grumbled,
“On a scale of ‘Mean Girl’ to ‘American Pie’, how bad we talkin’ here?” Dana’s amused tone did nothing to clear Robby’s darkening mood as he huffed.
“Try ‘Top Gun’ volleyball, I’m shocked he didn’t offer to mow my lawn sometime-” Robby grumbled before Dana peered over his shoulder, eyes fixing on something behind him.
“Med Students on your six, Robby.” Dana intoned lowly, prompting Robby’s sigh and spin around.
“-and this is our fearless leader Doctor Robinavitch! He is the day shift senior attending so his word is the law around here.” McKay looked at him with a cheeky little grin as Robby shook his head.
“No, our fearless leader is Dana, who is our charge nurse. Everything that happens here is orchestrated by her, so if she says jump, you all ask ‘how high’-” Robby almost choked on his practiced monologue as his eyes caught over a familiar, starry-eyed alpha’s face.
Oh.
Oh, no.
There was the kid- scrubbed up, shirt tucked neatly into his pants, looking at Robby with wide-eyed surprise that Robby was sure he was mirroring.
“.. so! Introductions! You all know me as Doctor Robinavitch but call me Doctor Robby, it rolls off the tongue a little easier.” The students went around, chiming in their year and names while some of the more old fashioned students gave their secondary sex. When it finally got back to Jack, he puffed up a little before saying, “Jack Abbot, MS4.”
‘How the fuck was this kid an MS4?’ Robby gave him a strained smile. “Alright! Follow me, looks like we’ve got a… ooh, foreign object case! Why don’t we jump into the deep end, shall we?”
It was a nightmare. It had the potential to become a worse nightmare, the kind that required paperwork, the kind that would bring attention to the power imbalance between them with an unforgiving eye. If this kid knew what was fucking good for him he’d back off as soon as he realized that the older omega next door was his boss.
Robby almost wanted him to be bad at his job. Some selfish little bitch in him wanted Jack to be so bad that he could dump him on Presby’s doorstep and be done with him. But the kid was good, annoyingly so. Quick on his feet, confident, listened without second-guessing Robby unless he felt it was necessary.
“I didn’t realize you were Chief Attending.” Jack started during one of the precious moments of quiet. Robby looked at him where he was leaning over the partition, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s really impressive, being an omega in a position like this- I mean, not that they shouldn’t, I just mean that you would have started in the 90’s and there weren’t a whole lot of omega rights laws in place yet and-”
“Yes, it was hard.” Robby cut him off.
“I mean, especially with a pup-”
“- is there something you needed help with, Abbot?” Robby cut him off, turning his full attention to the kid as he faltered, once again wrong-footed in their conversation.
“I mean.. No, Dr. Robby.”
“Good, because I believe Dr. Mohan could provide a wonderful learning opportunity with the abscess patient in room 12.” Robby replied. Jack huffed out a sigh, shoulders slumping slightly as he walked off to find her.
He couldn’t shake Jack for the rest of the day- he always ran up to Robby with questions, falling into step alongside him and taking Robby’s clipped responses in stride.
By some miracle- or maybe God taking pity on his miserable soul- he actually got out on time while Jack was still wrapping up his charting. Enough time to- hopefully- run to Dennis’s daycare and get home by the time Jack was already in his house. He couldn’t wait to see his boy, his soft little voice and sweet scent. The thought softened his own mildly sour scent that leaked through the worn patches of the day.
He didn’t take them off until he pulled up to daycare- he didn’t want to stink up the car with his stress scent, it left Dennis fussy in the back seat.
His little one was already pressed against the bars of the gate, looking like a prison inmate and not a child at daycare. When he saw Robby he squealed and reached out through the bars.
“Hello Miss Robinavitch! Dennis was pretty good today- made a new friend, right bud?” Sharon, the 30-something Beta who managed most days, carefully swung open the gate to allow Dennis to run towards his mama. Robby met him halfway, swinging his little body up and into his arms and enjoying the shrieking giggle as he nuzzled into his pup’s neck to give him kisses.
“A new friend? Denny, that’s so exciting!” Robby cooed, shifting Dennis onto his hip so that he could fill out the pick-up form.
“Uh-huh! P’ayed farm-”
“-Played farm, Den.”
“-played farm, we ran around outside ‘n rode bikes!” Dennis babbled as they walked back outside. Robby buckled him in and turned off his radio, listening to talk of crayons and books during story time and which slide was the best (the blue one). He was so tuned in that he didn’t see the familiar, shirtless alpha jogging down the block until he had gotten out of the car.
Robby debated getting back in and circling the block until he went back inside, but it was too late. Dennis was already squirming and whining about being hungry, and at this point Jack must have seen him getting out of the truck. He huffed and rounded the car, quickly grabbing Dennis’s things and hauling his boy out of the car.
Of course, Dennis fussed about not wanting to be carried- “Big boy, Mamele, wanna walk-” the ill-timed independence meant they were walking up to the door at the same time.
“Aww, is he yours?” Jack cooed, kneeling down to give Dennis a tiny wave. Robby felt his hackles raise.
“No, I just make a habit of taking random pups in my house.” Robby grumbled, earning a huff of laughter from the man as he stood up.
“If you ever need a sitter, Doctor Robby, I have some siblings myself- I babysat for my mom all of the time.” Jack beamed as he said it, like he wasn’t a strange alpha offering to take Dennis into his home while Robby was gone.
“You’re already my coworker, I’m sure you don’t need to be seeing more of my face outside of work.” Robby replied, fumbling for his keys.
“I-I wouldn’t mind. Seeing you more outside of work.”
It was bashful. Hopeful. Puppy love if Robby ever saw it. They stared at each other for a moment. Robby’s face was cold and impassive as the words sank into the thick tension between them.
“...goodnight, Abbot.”
“Goodnight, Dr. Robby.”
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
The first real time Robby was forced to face his assumptions of the alpha next door was during a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Late to leave the ER from a 5 car pile up with a sweet little pup inside that made Robby’s stomach hurt. Late to pick up groceries, and late to pick up Dennis. The sky had been giving ominous rumbles since early afternoon, and as soon as Robby had hustled Dennis into his car seat, it was like the heavens opened up. He just wanted to get home and cuddle his sweet pup, feel his head tucked under his chin and the rise and fall of his chest.
The first crack of thunder made Dennis freeze in his seat, his babbling trailing off as his eyes darted to the window. The second made him whimper.
“It’s alright, Dennis, just the rain.” Robby tried to soothe, but the thundering rain shook the car as he cranked the wipers up.
Dennis wailed, red in the face as he kicked his feet against the passenger side seat in front of him. The rain was really coming down now, pouring and soaking through Robby’s fleece as he hurriedly fumbled with the buckle of his car seat.
“I know, I know, I’m getting there, Denny, shhh-” Robby hushed, his efforts thwarted by a crack of lightning that made Dennis’s hysterics pick up again. It was too much- Dennis’s bag on his back, the crying 4 year old on one arm and two bags filled with groceries.
Something had to give; and it was the bottom of his bags.
Cans and packets and boxes tumbled onto the wet pavement and Robby had to bite his tongue not to swear- he was pretty proud of the low groan of exasperation he let out instead. He quickly jogged to the porch, setting down Dennis’s bag and putting Dennis in one of the soft outside chairs.
“Just stay here for a sec, Dennis-”
“Mamaaa-”
“I know, you’re being so brave, lemele, just give mama one sec to get the groceries.” He panted out, moving back to the groceries still spilled on the sidewalk and getting soaked in the rain. Fuck, the pasta might be salvageable but the berries were spilled everywhere and goddammit he paid 8$ for those-
A hand started collecting the cans next to him, causing him to reel in surprise.
“Doctor Robinavitch?”
Robby blinked in shock. Jack was kneeling next to him, an umbrella crammed between his neck and shoulder as he scooped what he could into a plastic tote bag.
“Sorry to jump in, ma’- Doctor, but I saw you in the rain-” Jack started.
“Fine, it’s fine, just help me get these to the porch.” Robby ordered.
Between the two of them they got the groceries out of the rain before any of the cardboard got too soaked. Dennis was still curled up in the chair, hands covering his ears that reached out for Robby as soon as he was in arm’s reach.
“Just give me a second and I can get these put away, give you your bag back-”
“-there’s no rush, I promise. Just leave it by my door whenever you can.” Jack rushed to reassure him, swiping his wet curls back from his forehead.
“I… thank you.” The words were pulled from Robby’s mouth like it pained him, but he knew the kid had earned it.
“Yeah, anytime. I want us to like living next to each other, Doctor Robinavitch.” Jack’s smile was soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. Robby’s chest squeezed as he nodded and picked up Dennis and the bag, making his way inside.
After a change of clothes, a brief toweling off, and a piece of candy for Dennis for withstanding the thunder, Robby finally started on Dinner.
He needed something warm and comforting and it was his Bubbe’s Yemenite soup.
He put a record on the record player and let himself fall into the rhythms of cooking- chopping vegetables, thawing chicken bone broth saved from cooking down chicken scraps, washing and peeling and watching the soup come together.
Robby was broken from his haze by a hand tugging on his sweatpants leg.
“Mamele, nosh?” Dennis asked, looking at the bowl of chopped carrot Robby was about to add to the soup.
“No noshing, Denny, dinner’s going to be ready soon.” Robby murmured, pulling the little step stool he had at the kitchen sink over so Dennis could carefully stand on it to watch. Jack, the ER, the thunder, the groceries- all the noise fell away at the smell of rich soup and the record spinning lazily on its table. The rain still pattered on the window, drawing his memory back to the interaction on the porch; Jack kneeling down on the wet concrete to gather the cans that spilled from the flimsy plastic bag, the curls plastered to his face, “I want us to like living next to each other, Doctor Robinavitch.”
Robby had played these games before. He knew how nice it was to have a young, strapping alpha that saw you, that wanted you- made you feel like you were on the top of the world. The echoes of that mistake lived in the blonde curls of Dennis’s precious head, the blue eyes that looked at him with so much love.
He loved Dennis. But he had been around the block enough not to make that mistake again.
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
And so it begins!! I just want to leave a quick note that, yes, since I'm writing Young!Jack he doesn't have his amputation or prosthetic yet. I do have other works that include is disability, but if you are looking for more fics that explore that I would highly recommend looking at @queer-reader-07 's blog.
I don't think this series will be as expansive as my Bio Bdsm works but I do plan on converting it to Ao3 once I'm finished with it. Chapters will be posted on my drabble masterpost.
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