GremlinKat

You became a stranger in your own body overnight, having unexplained symptoms appear every day, for short bursts of time, then disappearing again. You never ignored it; in fact, you booked an appointment with the doctor to get checked out, only to be told that your vitamin D is low, and the fatigue you’ve been experiencing is common because of this. The doctor told you that you work hard and the night shift is most likely causing this, so you believed him. 

But the fatigue was always there, even after sleeping for most of the day and night on your days off. The exhaustion carried on for days on end, even after taking your high-dose supplements as prescribed.

Then one day, you woke up, and you were fine again. You carried on with life as normal, thinking you had been magically cured. But then all of a sudden, more symptoms appear, and more doctor's appointments with more diagnosis that did not fit your illness.

The headaches? Migraines.

The fatigue? Low vitamin D.

The weakness in your arms? Possible neuropathy.

And the cycle repeated itself over and over and over again.

You don’t remember dozing off on the chair at work, but it was a gentle hand in your back that woke you up.

“Tired?” Jack murmurs from behind you. 

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Not getting enough sleep?” 

“I get plenty” you stretch out and the movement makes you dizzy but you steady yourself on the desk in front of you. “Sorry”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Jack stands behind you, two hands on your shoulders massaging them gently.

“Keep doing that and I’ll fall asleep again.”

“Go have a rest.”

“We're short staffed."

“Don't care."

“Can’t play favouritism now, Dr Abbot.”

“I can when it comes to you.” He leans down pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “have a break and I’ll come find you.”

“I’m good, I promise.” You push off the chair and the dizziness hits you once again, stumbling slightly but you steady yourself again.

“You’re not good” Jack helps steady you. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just dizzy.”

“Let’s take your blood pressure and run some tests.”

“Jack..”

“Yes.”

“No, I’m good. It’s just my low vitamin D, it’s nothing.”

“Im finding you at the end of the shift, and we’re running some tests.”

“Stop being a doctor.” You brush your fingers against his cheek lightly, before hearing your name called out. “Duty calls.”

“But-“ Jack protest but it was already too late, because you were already running away from him.

But he doesn’t forget, because by the time he finishes rounds and sees you waiting for him to go home, he points at a room and you shake your head. “In.”

“Make me.”

“Don’t make me pick you up.” 

“Okay fine.” You mumble and walk into the room.

“Bed.”

“Bossy. I like it.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m tired, everything hurts, and I can’t seem to get enough sleep. I have low vitamin D."

“Okay let’s repeat it.”

“Jack, I don’t want to be a patient.”

“Me neither, trust me.” He sits next to you on the bed, “but you’ve not been yourself.”

“I know…but what can I do?”

“Let me run some tests!”

“I’ll do it with my doctor. And you as my boyfriend can come with me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Can I take your blood pressure at least?”

“You can take it when we’re at home. In bed.”

Jack’s not convinced, but he can never say no to that pretty face. 

There was no hiding your symptoms, not because you wanted to, but because it had become pretty obvious that something was going on. 

You woke up multiple times from sleep, screaming in pain due to the muscle spasms that had come out of nowhere. You scared Jack to death every single time, and he felt helpless, not being able to help you or know the cause of your symptoms. Overtime, your memory had started playing up too. Forgetting names of colleagues, mixing up simple things at home like leaving keys in the fridge and so on...

Multiple more useless doctor’s appointments, with diagnoses thrown out at you here, there and everywhere, until one doctor suggested an MRI. You put it off because you’re well aware of how claustrophobic it was. You couldn’t do it. You simple refused. 

And Jack watched you fade away, doing everything in his power to convince you to do the scan. But you were too stubborn, and too tired to simply fight.

Jack convinced you to stay at home today because you had been crying and screaming in pain all day due to spasms and excruciating headaches that came on out of nowhere. He begged to take you to PTMC to get checked out, at least to do an MRI scan but you settled on simply staying at home and resting.

He kissed you goodbye, and with a heavy heart, he left you at home. Not even an hour after he left, you decided that maybe some change of scenery might help you feel better, so you opted for a simple trip to the supermarket. The lights above your head were too bright, making your eyes hurt. A stabbing, agonising pain. You hold onto a shopping cart so you can steady yourself because your legs are off balance. An odd sensation — like they were not coordinated. You wonder if the supermarket had changed its layout because everything seems to have moved. Or was that your memory?

You walk up to one of the staff, no older than 16 years old and ask him a question, but he simply frowns at you. 

You ask again.

He frowns. “Are you speaking English?” He asks.

“Of course I am.” You say confidently.

“You’re not making sense.”

“I was simply asking a question?”

“Are you having a stroke?” The kid chuckles.

You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you turn your back on him and push your trolley away, but the sudden movement sends you incredibly dizzy. You can no longer see in one eye, your hands are unable to grip to steady yourself, and the tips of your fingers start to tingle. You are convinced you're having a stroke, and want to call for help, but instead you collapse.

“Parker trauma incoming! Female collapsed at supermarket. Possible stroke.” 

“On it, Nazely glove up.” Parker says.

They all wait outside the room, and just as they see the paramedics come in, Parker spots who it is on the gurney. “What the-“ Parker chokes out.

"Female 30s, collapsed at supermarket. The guy said her speech was incoherent, then collapsed."

Parker snaps her gloves on and helps move you onto the bed. She sees you move slightly, a sign that you are slowly waking up. "Where am I?

"You're with me, it's Parker."

"Parker where are you?"

"You're at The Pitt..?"

"Why are the lights off?"

Nazely begins to speak but Parker gestures for her to stay quiet. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

"I went dizzy again, and my arms are weak, then my vision went- i dunno like dark? Parker I can't see- my eye it's"

"Let me go grab Jack, yeah? I'll keep the lights off for a minute. Nazely start on checks please."

Parker runs out of the room, franctically looking for Abbot for sees Shen rushing to her instead.

"Where the hell is Abbot?"

"Family room. Meeting. What happened to her?"

"Fuck, alright. She can't see anything, said went dizzy at the supermarket and then collapsed. I told her the lights are off so she doesn't panic."

"I'll go in, find Abbot."

Parker ignores the anxiety in her chest over seeing her friend like this, and, with shaky hands, knocks on the family room door. She opens the door and finds Abbot in the middle of meeting.

"Dr Abbot, you're needed."

"Can you find Dr Shen instead?"

"Dr Abbot.." She clears her throat and tries to steady her voice, and Jack pushes off his chair once he recognises the panic in her eyes. "You seriously need to come with me right this second."

Jack chokes up on the panic that’s now strangling him, not finding any words in his vocabulary to say anything as he walks into the room you are in.

"We're back" Parker says, "Jack's here too."

"jack?"

"I'm here, sweetheart," he manages to say before choking up again. He sits by the bed, one hand resting at the top of your head and the other hand holding yours. "How you feeling?"

"I just told Shen everything-"

"We need to get her up to MRI" Shen adds, "as I just said, we'll wait for a pathology and scans before considering a diagnosis."

"I still can't see in one eye and the other is-blurry and weak- jack-" You feel claustrophobic in your own body; your mind is yelling at you to run but you’re stuck. “Everything’s dark and I can’t see-“

“I’m here, just focus on my voice hmm?” Jack murmurs softly, “we’re gonna take you up to imaging soon”

“I’m scared- I can’t Jack I can’t-“

Jack sits on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his hands gently hold onto your face, “I know it seems so scary right now but we’ll figure it out together. We always do… yeah? I’m here and I won’t leave your side.”

“Promise me”

“A million promises, I’m here. Now shall we go get you to imaging? I’ll stay by your side the whole time.”

Jack swore to himself that he would never leave your side again. One day, he left you at home. One day. And now you're here, ill and scared.

“Okay, okay- no wait- I can’t do the MRI I’m scared!”

“And I’ll be on the microphone talking to you the entire time. Shall we give you something to help with the anxiety too? How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay” you nod, your hands find his face and you don’t want to let go. You can’t see him, can’t see anyone in fact. And in this moment, you’re convinced things will never get better.

The MRI machine is loud, and despite one eye being extremely blurry and one eye completely blind, you could feel how close the machine is to your face. They had put a head coil around you, and it felt like a rope slowly strangling you. You were instructed to stay completely still, but the tremor in your hand from the anxiety that's pulsating through your veins made it impossible.

Jack steadied his voice as he spoke to you on the microphone, telling you silly little stories about things you both had gone through, just to get your mind off things. But nothing he will ever say will make you feel better. All you felt was panic.

He stood by the MRI radiographer, looking at your images as they downloaded. Jack whispers, although you won't be able to hear him, "is that..."

"Yeah, that's all lesions on the brain."

And that was the moment his life changed, before yours did too.

They had given you meds to help you sleep and to help with the anxiety. Jack paced around the room, thinking he was going quietly, but his anxious footsteps echoed the quiet room.

"You're anxious" you whisper.

"Hey sweetheart i'm here."

"I know." You tease softly, "Is it bad?"

"Why don't we wait for the doctor to come in, yeah?"

It certainly is bad. If Jack's not breaking the news to you, then Jack is too anxious to do so himself.

"Is it too difficult for you to say?" you swallow a ball of thorns, and don't bother to fight the tears.

"Room for one more on the bed?"

You shift over to make room for him, and he slowly joins your side. He rests his head at the crook of your neck. "I want to tell you that you are the strongest person I know."

"After you, of course.." You rest your head on his, and let your tears run over his curls. "So what is it?"

"It's multiple sclerosis."

"Oh." Life will never be the same for you, ever again.

"Is there a but coming.. or an and?"

"But it's early stages and the symptoms are manageable. With appropriate treatment. Your vision should also return to normal in a week or so.."

"But it's not curable."

Jack pulls you closer toward him, and you can feel his tears run down onto your neck. "I need you to promise me one thing."

"Anything for you."

"I need you to fight for me. I need you to live for me." Because Jack knows that you care about him more than anyone in this world. And you don't give up on love. He knows you won't. And now more than ever, he needs you to fight this. With every relapse, every flare-up, and every symptom. He needs you to fight.

"I need you to promise me one thing, Jack."

"Anything for you my love."

"I need you to help me fight it."

When the first symptoms start, Robby does what he always does — he ignores them. He minimises and explains away. The vague chest pains are just too much caffeine; the dizzy spells are a lack of sensible meals. When the cough starts and refuses to clear up, Robby brushes off Dana's comments and tells her he's just feeling a bit run down. The pattern of symptoms could mean anything, there's nothing to worry about, he'll rest when he gets chance. He bristles when she stares at him over her glasses — a look so familiar it's enough to raise his hackles on its own. But it's been a hellish shift and neither one of them has the energy to take on the same worn fight they always have, so it gets dropped, and Robby is left to carry on ignoring the signs for a little while longer.

Dana must speak to Jack at some point, because a couple of weeks later Robby finds himself being talked into going out for drinks with him. In truth, Robby's head is swimming and he wants nothing more than to go home and crash heavy into his bed, but Jack has always been persuasive and Robby doesn't do much to resist his offer to buy the first round.

The bar is a bit grimy and dimly lit, but the beer is good and it's less crowded than the more popular places the Residents prefer. Good to his word, Jack instructs Robby to grab them a seat while he heads over to order their drinks. Robby slumps into a corner booth and absently watches Jack chatting with the bartender. From this angle, he can see the back of Jack's strong frame; the way his jacket hangs over the curve of his shoulders and how his black cargo pants fit over his round ass and thick thighs… It must be a trick of the light, but Robby could swear he sees Jack's aura. A blend of blues and greens that twinkle and shift around him.

Robby's eyes snap upwards when Jack turns round to face him, bottles in hand. He tries to shake the image of Jack's legs from his mind, and focuses instead on their conversation. Despite his earlier misgivings, it feels good to be sat here with his friend, laughing at his night shift stories and feeling relaxed for the first time in months. He gets through the first beer just fine, but it's halfway through the second, just as Jack is regaling him with an inappropriate story about a patient's attractive relative, that Robby feels something tighten in his chest. He coughs a few times to clear it, but nothing works. He tries to ignore the insistent pulling at his ribs, but eventually gives in and excuses himself to the bathroom where he's wracked with a coughing fit that leaves him breathless.

That's when the first petal falls from his lips. Robby stares at the small yellow speck in the sink and marvels that this delicate, beautiful thing has appeared in the middle of what could only respectfully be called a dive bar. Strangely, he doesn't feel any panic, only a brief moment of realisation as he looks up at his reflection in the mirror and wonders how it's taken him this long to notice what's happened.

"Oh…" he whispers softly to himself, staring deep into his own eyes and finding the answer very clear. Jack.

—

Jack is waiting right where Robby left him just minutes ago. A rush of adrenaline floods through Robby's system when they make eye contact. The blue-green aura is surrounding Jack again, and the way it shifts and glows almost knocks Robby off balance.

Jack frowns and a tinge of red bleeds into the colours that are dancing around him.

"Wow, brother. You look awful." Jack says.

"Don't think I should have drunk so much on an empty stomach. Okay if we call it a night?"

Jack looks unsure for a moment, glances skeptically at the half-finished second bottles. When he looks back up Robby gets the strange sensation that Jack is somehow seeing right through his skin and muscle into the cavity of his chest. He tries to breathe through the growing wooziness, and focuses on the greying curl that's fallen across Jack's forehead. It doesn't help.

Jack's standing up to move towards him, making the aura surrounding him shift rapidly. "You want a ride home? I'm still good to drive."

"Nah, I'll walk. Get some air."

Robby doesn't wait for Jack to respond, just knows he has to get outside quickly before he passes out. Without another word, he grabs his jacket and turns to leave. Jack stares after him, his brows knitted together in a mixture of confusion and concern.

—

The word Hanahaki swims round Robby's head as he stumbles home. It's a rare disease, but one he's seen a few times across his career. By the time they get to the ER, they're usually terminal, fully formed flowers spilling from their airways with no option but to make them as comfortable as possible while their plant reaches its full height inside them. Robby's seen plenty of death, and this is not one he'd choose.

There were times earlier in his career where they'd made attempts to cure the patient, or at least buy them more time. Robby once watched Jack run a code that lasted hours - they pulled endless flowers and leaves from a poor, frightened young woman who'd come in with the name Paul Thomas written onto a scrap of paper held tight in her fist. Jack had phoned every Paul Thomas he could find in the directory, but none of them admitted to knowing the girl, let alone loving her back. That case haunted Robby — and he knew it haunted Jack too, although neither of them would ever speak about it again — and the next time Robby was called into a terminal Hanahaki case, his orders were quick and to the point: make them comfortable, let them go.

The recollecting of his flower disease patients carries Robby almost the entire walk home. His memory of Jack dialling number after number weighs heavy in his chest. Even at the time Robby had seen the desperate beauty of it, a man determined to do whatever it took to defeat death with love. But that was before Emily went, when Jack still believed that miracles were possible.

Robby coughs and feels the strange sensation of velvet petals on his tongue. He unlocks the door to his house and steps inside, leaving a trail of yellow and green along the pavement behind him.

—

By the time he gets to his room, Robby's feeling bad enough that he can believe he's managed to get drunk off just one and a half weak beers. He falls fully clothed on top of his bed, his head spinning. The pain in his chest is back, an insistent tightness that wraps around his lungs and tangles through his ribs. He tries to steady his breath — box breathe around the flowers he now knows are blooming inside him, but it's useless.

The colours he'd seen surrounding Jack at the bar have followed him home. Jewel-toned now, the blues and greens dance around his room and illuminate the darkness, making Robby grip his bedsheets tightly in sweaty palms. He's hit repeatedly with the sensation the he's falling out of bed and hitting the floor no matter how still he lays. Hypnic jerks. The words swim into view —textbook-like — before snapping away again. How bizarre that he can catalogue an altered state even while experiencing it.

Time passes slow and quick, and eventually the vertigo eases. Robby opens his eyes to find petals scattered across his chest and over his sheets, petals that he has no recollection of vomiting. He spends a few seconds processing this through the fog in his head, while something else starts to demand his attention, something he senses before he can see it.

The knowledge of it drifts over him slowly. Standing just beyond reach by the foot of the bed — at once both there and not there — his mom. She looks just as Robby remembers her; long, dark hair, seventies clothes and a sad smile just like his own. Her face is indistinct, too soft around the edges, empty of specific detail. This is how he always sees her when she visits his dreams, the ill-defined features all that are left in his memory.

There's no panic, no attempt to deny what he can see. Robby simply enters into a reality where his mind has split in two: what's true — his mother died 45 years ago — and what's also true — his mother is standing next to him. She stays with him a while, waiting till the aching in his lungs has settled. By the time he can breathe normally again she's gone, although Robby can't remember feeling her leave.

—

Weeks pass. Robby can no longer ignore the symptoms, but he can still pretend they're not important, can still do the second best thing after denial which is bargaining. I'll see a specialist if I cough up a whole flower. I'll be okay so long as I focus on work. I'll avoid Jack and this might get better on its own. For some reason he takes to reasoning these things out with his mom's ghost even though she never replies. He does all this and grinds through each day and hopes against all hope that a solution will present itself soon.

It's at the end of another long shift with no time for food or toilet breaks when Robby realises he can't go on like this. He can feel the weight of the day in his muscles that ache dully, and in the deepening sensation that he can't quite catch his breath. He makes his way over to the gathered group of nightshift staff and begins the handover, keeping it efficient and direct in the hopes that he can make a clean break and get home quickly.

Robby's almost finished going over the board when his eyes find Jack standing at the edge of the group. He's got his chin up and his arms crossed, his biceps strong across his broad chest, his bare forearms dotted with freckles that are visible even at this distance… The dizziness hits Robby immediately, and he screws his eyes shut to stop himself from falling sideways. At the same time, he feels his chest muscles tighten painfully as something moves deep in his lungs, climbing up his trachea until it's irritating the back of his throat. Desperately, he attempts to draw in a breath, but can only wheeze around whatever is blocking his airway, until finally he gives in, covers his mouth with his hand and coughs harshly. He manages to catch most of the petals in his palm, but he watches horrified as a single green foliole drifts to the ground.

Before Robby even registers what's happening, the petal has been stepped on and covered. He looks up through watering eyes to see Dana staring out at the oblivious crowd of physicians.

"You heard the boss, get going!" Dana's command of the department is never questioned, and Robby watches wordlessly as the huddle disperses to go about their work. Amongst them, Jack has turned and is walking away towards a patient's room with Nazely. Robby hiccups, and another green petal floats gently to the floor.

"And you're with me," Dana says, her voice low, and Robby allows himself to be guided towards an exam room.

—

Almost as soon as the door clicks shut behind them, Robby is hit with another wave of dizziness and the awful fluttering of petals low in his lungs. There's something else now too - a stabbing pain just below his ribcage that sharpens with each inhale - but he doesn't get the chance to dwell on this. Robby doubles over as the coughing attack fully hits him. He grasps out, not even knowing what he's reaching for, and feels Dana's hand slip into his to help hold him steady. With her free hand, she's bringing an emisis basin up to his lips. The petals come quickly, wave after wave of green and yellow that block his throat and give him no opportunity to suck down any oxygen. Absently, he wonders if he'll ever breathe again, or whether he'll die like this, suffocated by the flowers that taste bitter and pungent on his tongue.

Eventually the vomiting passes, and Dana leaves his side to place the emisis basin next to the sink. Robby collapses onto the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he does so.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Robby shrugs and Dana seemingly decides to choose her battles.

"What other symptoms have you had?" she asks.

Robby considers lying, pretending that it's just the cough and the petals, but something in Dana's face stops him. He sees a worry there that somehow conveys both her gentle compassion and her lack of tolerance for any of his bullshit. He gives her the satisfaction of staring him down for a couple more seconds before he answers.

"You're a really great nurse, do you know that?"

Dana smiles. "I'm a real Nightingale. Now come on, tell me what's going on."

It's not a question this time. Robby takes a deep breath, feeling the now-familiar pull at the base of his lungs as he does so.

"It started with visual stuff. Nothing too weird, jackets on the back of doors that looked like people, that kind of thing. I see weird colours sometimes, like… patterns that shift and ripple when I try to look at them."

If Robby had been expecting a reaction from Dana, he doesn't get one. And somehow, now that he's started talking and been met with no judgement, he feels like he needs to get it all out.

"Then the vomiting. It wasn't too bad, just a few petals here and there. But I started getting this feeling like I was floating. Things go hazy. Like the universe is bending into shapes that don't exist… I see people I know can't be there."

Dana's face has lost its worry and turned impassive. Robby notices the switch from friend to detatched professional, knows it's because they both realise the implications his symptoms have, knows that his words have set a sequence in motion that cannot be stopped now. Acceptance clicks in him like a switch has been pressed. He looks down and takes another deep, tight breath.

"It's a psychiatric variant," Robby says, like he's just telling Dana about a random patient instead of admitting for the first time the horrible truth about what's going to happen to him. Dana fixes her eyes back on him, her expression completely unreadable now.

"Let's get you tested first. One step at a time, eh?" She reaches out and squeezes Robby's shoulder, her refusal to acknowledge the severity of the situation a clear indication that she's trying to put on a brave face. Robby lets the inevitability of the disease rest on him, doesn't respond to Dana either way. She must sense what he's thinking, and thankfully she knows him well enough not to push any further just yet. Instead, she stands up and sets to work covering the emisis basin with a cloth.

"I'll get your petals up to the lab as a John Doe. Stay here, I'll drive you home."

"Thanks, Dana."

"I mean it. Don't move."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Dana pauses at the door and turns back to look at Robby like she wants to ask something. Robby sets his jaw.

"I'm not going to tell them, Dana."

"No, didn't think you would," she whispers, and leaves him alone in the quiet room.

—

Robby opts to ignore the tests Dana runs, and instead books himself an appointment at a specialist phytopathology clinic where no one knows him. It's where he meets Dr James on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

"The test results confirm hanahaki disease. The primary growth is Acacia Pycnantha - those are the small yellow petals." The doctor's demeanor is professional, with a stiff, formal kindness. Robby knows how giving bad news works - has been trained to do it himself, has done it thousands of times in his own career - and he sees all the evidence of this specialist trying to soften the blow.

"It's psychiatric?" he asks, desperate to bypass sympathy and get straight to the facts. Dr James seems relieved by Robby's lack of emotion.

"Yes. The plant naturally produces dimethyltryptamine, which is hallucinagenic. Once that leeches into the blood stream we start to see both positive and negative symptoms of psychosis."

"Can you treat those?"

"Unfortunately anti-psychotics do very little to counter the effects of Hanahaki psychosis. But if you have surgery to remove the growths at the root, then all your symptoms will subside."

"And I'll forget I love them?"

"Yes. The other option is to tell them and hope —"

Robby cuts him off. "I can't do that."

"Then surgery is your only option."

The finality of it covers the room in a thick silence. Robby's mind drifts somewhere else, only to be pulled back by Dr James politely clearing his throat.

"If you don't have any more questions, I can ask our receptionist to get you booked in for a follow up appointment?"

Robby nods and stands up to leave, but pauses at the threshold into the corridor.

"You said the primary growth explained the yellow petals. What about the green?"

Dr James looks back up from his computer screen.

"Oh. Er… those are carnations." He seems to consider this explanation enough, but Robby stares back blankly.

"They affect— Well I think I have a leaflet here somewhere."

The doctor rummages through his desk drawer, finally pulling out a small pamphlet. Robby catches the rainbow branding before he sees the title and feels his cheeks flush at the realisation.

Hanahaki Disease: Information for LGBT+ Patients

"Oh…" the sound catches in the back of Robby's throat. Dr James looks like a man trying not to look embarrassed. He nods once; consultation over. For the first time since he realised what his symptoms meant, Robby feels like he might cry.

—

Robby stops in the park on the way home, the ordinariness of the Tuesday afternoon extending into the way old couples sit chatting on benches and young parents chase after their giggling toddlers and pigeons crowd around anyone who's bought a pastry from the kiosk on the corner. That's the worst of it all, the endless ordinariness that lies flat in the background of the kaleidescope colours that Robby sees permanently now. He knows that none of these ordinary people on their ordinary Tuesday afternoon can understand what he does, which is that there's a second reality overlaying the first, and that it's no longer clear to him which reality he's supposed to want to choose.

His mind turns back to Jack. He thinks about how he fell in love with him somewhere in the first few months after Emily died, when they were spending all of their days together, sharing in a vulnerability so profound that it altered both of them permanently. It had felt platonic to start with, a deep bond of trust and friendship that had remained at the root of Robby's feelings for Jack ever since. The romantic feelings had developed more slowly, were resisted and denied because Robby could not allow himself the idea of stepping into his friend's loss in that way.

Except for one night when they'd shared a bottle of whiskey and then some, and they were drunk enough and sad enough to have found themselves leaning closer together, eyes tear streaked and pleading for things they couldn't name, not even to themselves. To this day neither of them could remember who initiated the kiss. Perhaps it was both of them or maybe it was neither of them. Perhaps it was just a thing that had to happen. A thing that was soft and tender and filled with a yearning for everything that was out of their reach, because some higher power had finally taken pity on them and offered them a brief kindness.

After they'd slept and sobered up, Robby told Jack that he'd never cared about him being bisexual, because that was the truth. And then he told Jack that he was straight, which was mostly a truth, because he'd never really thought about his feelings for men before. After that, Robby went back to loving Jack quietly, because from that point on Jack's happiness was far more important to him than his own.

—

Jack messages him not long after he makes it home from the park.

Dana said you're taking some leave? Won't tell me why. Snapped when I tried to bribe her…

What's going on Rob?

The thought of Jack confused and hurt by his sudden disappearance sends Robby rushing to the bathroom, where he kneels on the cold tile to vomit thick clumps of petals into the toilet bowl. His heart is racing, cold sweat gathers along his hairline and prickles across the back of his neck. He feels the tree roots constricting his diaphragm and the stutter in his lungs as they lose their rhythm. He feels the ache of each of his inconsistent and uncoordinated breaths. In his desperation, the tears he's been holding back since his conversation with Dr James suddenly start to fall, and he sobs and retches till there's nothing left to bring up. Every loose petal is pulled from him until, exhausted, he collapses against the bathtub.

That's when he notices. Amongst the now normal yellow and green vomit there are large streaks of purple. The contrast of colours is alarming for some reason, the deep shade standing out like a bruise.

He already knows what this is, really. But something compels him to reach into his pocket and pull out the leaflet that Dr James had given him anyway. Robby scans down the list of species known to disproportionally affect gay and bisexual men. He soon finds confirmation.

Pansy (Viola Wittrokiana): large petals, typically purple or pink. Recent research suggests that pansy flowers are more likely to affect men who are questioning their sexuality or gender identity, though it's not yet known why this is the case.

—

Time loses its meaning. Or rather, time gains new meaning. Robby experiences days as months, months as days. Things stop happening in linear order, and cause no longer needs to happen before effect. Robby throws his phone away. Two days later Dana calls and he gets so frustrated with her worrying that he gets the urge to put his phone in the bin and forget that the outside world exists.

He loses huge chunks of memory, walks around the house in a daze, goes to bed when the sun's still up and then finds himself sat on the stairs in the dark. Throughout it all, the petals keep coming. They litter the carpets, gently decaying and releasing their pungent sweet smell when he wades through them.

Robby's woken from his sleep one morning by a whole carnation blocking his airway. He chokes it out in violent retches that send fire shooting through his ribcage. He thinks he can feel stems and branches wrapping around his spine now, but nothing about his body feels certain to him anymore.

The colours he used to see in the dark have stopped dancing now. Instead the world around him looks two dimensional. His mom still spends time with him, though he cries and wheezes despondently whenever she leaves. He spends hours walking the house in search of her, checking cupboards and corners for her ghost, wondering why she cannot stay, just this once.

It's while he's looking for her that Jack appears to him. He walks straight through the door, bold as brass, clutching the spare set of keys. Robby keeps calling out for his mama anyway, asks this new ghost to tell him where she's hiding. Jack leads him to the kitchen, presses a glass of water into his hands and tells him to drink. Robby doesn't bother to explain that his hanahaki is creeping too high for him to swallow water anymore.

Instead he watches this version of Jack pull out a phone and dial 911. He's talking in code to the switchboard. Robby tells him it's useless, tells him it's too late. Tells him that if the real Jack was here he still wouldn't confess his love to him, but that he's grateful to have been visited by his memory before he dies. This Jack wraps his arms around Robby and barks orders to someone unseen, and all the while Robby has the sense of flashing lights and urgent voices just on the periphery of his senses.

—

Shen and Langdon meet them in the ambulance bay. In Trauma One they begin the code — Robby is laid on his side, hooked up to monitors, while Perlah and Kim alternate giving him oxygen via ambu bag, and pulling leaves and flowers from his mouth with forceps. They all know it's not possible to save someone with hanahaki this advanced. They know that the kindest thing to do would be to let Robby go, but no one wants to be the one to say it first.

Robby knows it's the end too. He uses the last of his energy to grasp hold of the Star of David that hangs from his necklace. He pushes the sharp points of it into the delicate skin of his palm and tries to let the sensation keep him in the room, keep him conscious, keep him alive. Jack is right next to him, talking to him, letting his voice soothe Robby even if he can't take in the words.

"I had it too. Hanahaki. When I met Emily. I couldn't bear the idea of telling her, couldn't put that on her. But she was always smarter than me, she worked it out pretty fast. She saved my life and she called me an idiot and she was right. I am an idiot. Because I knew. Us. I knew, Rob. Maybe not right at the start. Maybe not when the grief was at its worst. But I knew. The way you held me together after Emily died. The way you looked at me sometimes… But I convinced myself I was just imagining it. You told me you were straight and I let myself believe you because I was so scared that I'd read things wrong. I was so scared I'd love you when you couldn't love me back, and I'd get the disease again. So I ignored it. Didn't let the feelings for you grow. And now… Fuck. I love you back, Robby. I love you back."

Through the fog of pain, Robby is suddenly aware of a different sensation. Something blooms inside him, hot and bright. The agony of it is so powerful, so inescapable, that a new panic washes over him. He tries to draw breath but his lungs have seized. He's being taken over by something new, something that sends tendrils and leaves shooting through every bronchiole, scratching and growing up his trachea with frightening speed. It's unlike anything he's felt before, and the terror and heat of it fills him completely. He's vomiting again. Not mere petals this time, but a fully formed plant. Dark hairy leaves and clusters of tiny pale flowers that fill every space inside him and blossom from his mouth.

"Ambrosia?" someone murmurs. "Love reciprocated?"

"Holy shit! I thought that only happened in films!"

Robby feels quick movement around him. Someone is pulling on the plant, gently but firmly easing it out from his throat. He feels the snap where the roots disconnect from his lungs, and the burning as the long stem is pulled through the length of his chest. But he has no air to scream out, so all he can do is wait and pray that it will be over soon. All he can do is think of Jack. Jack.

Jack who is standing beside him. Jack who is gripping his hand so tightly that his bones might break. Jack who is talking about love…

Robby's eyes settle on him. This man that he loves. This man that loves him back.

The plant is removed from his mouth. Air rushes back along his trachea and fills his raw lungs. He coughs and gasps and an oxygen mask is put over his face. For the first time in months his airway is clear and his chest can rise and fall freely. There are no hallucinations, no feelings of sorrow or shame. Only the sudden clarity of the world rushing back in.

Robby pulls himself up and throws his arms around Jack's shoulders. Lets himself be held while he sobs into the soft skin of his neck. Jack keeps him steady; one hand firm on his back and the other tenderly cupping the nape of his neck to hold him closer.

“Mike, can you go grab us a table?” Jack asked. He hadn’t needed to yell; the live music didn’t start for another 45 minutes.

“Yeah, I’ll go grab us that round booth in the corner.” Robby patted him on the shoulder, walking into the crowds of people to get to the table.

Jack ordered them an Old Fashioned, starting them a tab. He made his way over to Robby, who smiled softly as he approached.

The booth was intimate; the lighting was sombre, just enough for whoever was sat there to see each other. It made the experience more private, better than any of the harsh, bright hospital lights.

“I got you an Old Fashion, figured you’d want one of your usuals.” Jack placed the drinks down on the wooden table. 

Their legs brushed together as they sat closer to one another, like they always had, shoulders touching each other. They filled the silence of their booth with small conversations, catching up with each other; being on opposite shifts gave them this opportunity.

They had the next few days off together; that was always the highlight of their stretch of shifts, coming home to each other. It was a date night for them; they tried to schedule them as regularly as they could, another thing to look forward to.

The chilled rocks glasses that held their drinks left circular marks on the table, pooling from condensation. Between conversations, taking sips of their drink, watching as the glass slowly emptied.

As their glasses emptied, time passed, people came and went, new faces appearing in the bar. One familiar face entered the place, not one they’d seen often outside of the hospital.

His demeanour was just as it was in the hospital, sharp and assertive. He walked confidently into the building, moving with ease, making his way to the bar. Eyes always followed him, either out of fear or attraction.

“Is that Park?” Robby asked.

“I think it is. Looks like he is here all alone?” Jack questioned. The tall man sat alone at the bar, drinking some beverage from his glass. His shoulders were tense; Jack could tell he was anxious, maybe even nervous.

“He looks nice even out of scrubs,” Jack commented. You could see the man’s muscles through his shirt and slacks. 

A silent nod was given as a reply to Jack. Of course, Brendon looked good; his presence just radiates confidence. He took good care of himself, and it paid off.

“You want to invite him to join us?” Jack asked. “We could see how it plays out,” he continued. 

“I don’t see why not,” Robby smiled. They both knew what the intention was: to see if Brendon would want in on their fun.

Jack walked to the bar, moving towards where Brendon sat. He slipped into the open space, ordering another round of drinks for him and Robby, pretending to not notice the man’s presence.

“Hey! Can I get another two Old Fashions, please? The Tab is for Abbot.” He yelled over the loud music and people talking. 

Brendon glanced up at hearing the name, seeing the older night shift attending standing to his side. 

“Hey, Park! What are you doing here?” Jack’s hand was on his shoulder, leaning in so Brendon could hear him properly.

“Abbot,” he started, “Oh, just out for a drink.” He kept it curt. He hoped he didn’t sound rude; he honestly was just upset with how poorly his date went again.

“Same with Robby and me. Why don’t you come join us? We have a big booth, and it’s pretty crowded over here.” Jack’s hand tightened around his shoulder, sending chills down his spine. Jack's demeanour was dominating, Brendon feeling compelled to do as he said. 

“Wouldn’t hurt if I did,” Brendon joked, carefully getting off the stool, grabbing his drink. 

He followed behind, letting Jack lead the way. They brushed past groups of people, moving around tables and their crowds, finding Robby in a comfortable booth tucked away in the corner.

“You can go in first; it’s easier for me to get out,” Jack said, his hand now on Brendon’s lower back.

“Hey, Park,” Robby spoke loudly as Brendon slipped into the booth.

“Hello, thanks for letting me join,” Brendon thanked sheepishly. He was pressed between both men, feeling their knees press into his thighs.

“It’s really no problem; we wouldn’t want you sitting all alone up there,” Jack hummed, taking a sip of his drink.

“How come you’re here all alone?” Robby asked. 

He watched as Brendon took a swig of his drink, shaking his head at the remembrance of dinner prior.

“Well- just a really bad date. I was not what they were expecting.” He coughed out his reply. “It was quite embarrassing afterwards,” he chuckled.

The date itself had gone fine; actually, it went great. They had even taken it back to her place. It all went downhill when she realized they wouldn’t be compatible in that department. Brendon wasn’t what she was looking for; he was on the opposite spectrum.

It frustrates him how people are constantly assuming that he is always so dominating, always wanting control and to take leadership, but they are always so far away from the truth.

“Let’s have some drinks, huh? To forget about that awful date,” Jack smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

Brendon chuckled at his comment, “I think that’s a great idea.”

Conversation flowed easily between them, topics changing constantly, finding that they had quite a bit in common with each other.

The married couple had known Brendon for a while now, but had never really had the chance to sit down and talk with him like this.

It was nice to learn about his life, and how different he was from the man they always saw in the hospital. This Brendon was docile; he didn’t lead the room like he usually did, taking a step back and letting someone else take control. He followed Jack and Robby’s lead, adding to the conversation when they offered him a chance to speak.

The alcohol helped loosen him up, growing more comfortable around the married men.

“I’ll go grab us another round. What did you have to drink, Bren?” Robby asked. He slowly moved his knee away, skidding out of the booth.

“Moscow mule, but I don’t have a tab open,” he answered. 

“That’s fine; we can treat you. Especially after your night, you deserve it,” Robby smiled. 

Brendon was left with Jack, the man still sitting close to him, his knee still in the same spot. Jack’s hand had lingered on his forearm, testing the waters, seeing if he would reject the touch, if he read the whole thing wrong.

“It’s been nice to have another person to chat with tonight. If it would have been just Mike and me, we would have probably left when the music started,” Jack admitted, his hand rubbing against Brendon’s clothed arm.

“I’m enjoying myself too. It’s nice to wind down every one and a while.” Brendon had a feeling of where this may lead them, but he must admit that he was a little worried that the same situation may repeat itself.

Jack’s hand left his forearm, using it to lift his glass and take a drink. As he set down the drink, his hand made it to his back.

Brendon held back the gasp that was waiting to escape from his lips. Jack’s hand ran up and down his back gently, stopping at his lower back. Jack moved closer to him, his arm inching towards his waist, resting there.

“We are thinking of leaving after this drink. Why don’t you come with us? The fun doesn’t have to end here; we have some nice wine and whiskey at home,” Jack suggested.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Brendon answered.

Robby was back with their drinks in no time, making eye contact with Jack, who nodded at him. 

“I closed our tab; it’s getting crazy at the bar. So many people are showing up here, didn’t realize this band was this popular," Robby chuckled, setting down their drinks and sliding back into the booth.

He sat just as before, closely touching Brendon’s thigh. 

“I mentioned to Brendon that we were going to head home after this drink. And he agreed that he didn’t want the night to end,” Jack smirked at his husband. 

“Let’s down these drinks and get out of here,” Robby laughed.

~

“Make yourself comfortable; I’m going to go to the cellar and grab us a bottle,” Jack yelled as he made his way down the stairs.

“Let’s go wait for him on the couch; I’ll be right over,” Robby said as he walked to the kitchen to grab them some glasses and ice.

Brendon sat in the middle of their couch, waiting for them to come and join him. He’d never been to their house before; he didn’t feel out of place, just different, a good different.

“I think Jack will be grabbing whiskey,” Robby told him as he entered the living room. He set down the glasses, sitting close to Brendon.

Robby’s hand landed on his thigh, resting near his knee, starting slow. He rested, leaning back into the cushion, seeing if Brendon would follow him. “You can relax, lean back,” Robby chuckled.

“Fuck off,” Brendon joked back, leaning into the cushion, resting against Robby. Jack emerged from the basement holding a bottle of whiskey just like Robby had said. 

“Ok, boys. I got us some whiskey.” Jack clapped as he walked towards them. 

The living room was dimmed; the lamp in the corner was their only light source from that room. Jack saw the two men resting against each other on the couch, waiting for him to return.

He took the spot beside Brendon on the couch, sitting close, their thighs touching once again. He poured them their drinks, everyone picking up a glass and taking a sip.

“That’s actually not too bad,” Brendon stated, going in for another sip.

“Glad to hear that,” Jack’s hand inched up Brendon’s thigh. 

Brendon’s gaze drifted to Jack’s hand, glancing back to Robby, whose hand was on the back of his neck.

“Is this ok?” Jack asked, slowly creeping up higher towards his groin.

“Wait- before we start. I don’t want to disappoint you both.” Brendon started. 

Jack and Robby’s hands both stilled, letting Brendon speak before continuing.

“What is?” Robby questioned. 

“Fuck- ok. I am not dominant, l don’t like to be in control. I get it, if you want to stop,” he rambled. 

“Bren,” Jack said softly, getting the other man to look him in the eyes.

“You want to give control to me? You want to be told what to do?” Brendon nodded, feeling shame build up. He didn’t want to disappoint the married men.

Jack’s hand made it to Brendon’s chin, turning him to face him. “Use your words.”

“Y-yes, I’d like that,” Brendon stuttered.

“Good boy. Hmm, that wasn’t so hard?” Jack smirked. A blush spread across Brendon’s face, soaking in the praise from the male.

“You like that? You like being told how good you are?” Jack caressed his cheek, watching as his pupils dilated.

“What am I going to do with both of you? I think I’ll have my fun with you,” Jack smirked.

“Mikey, come here,” Jack instructed Robby, patting his thigh.

Jack pulled Robby in for a kiss, looking directly at Brendon, watching his reaction.

Brendon watched as the two men kissed; he watched as Jack had full control. Their tongues brushed against each other, the wet sounds of their mouths connecting. It was distasteful to anyone else, but a craving to him.

The tight slacks trapped his growing cock, confining it inside, restricting it from fully erecting. 

He started to move towards Jack, moving onto the next cushion.

“Did I say you could move?” Jack pulled back from Robby, staring firmly at the taller man.

“N-no,” Brendon shook his head, retreating back to his original spot. 

He didn’t like the feeling of being left out, growing needy as time passed, as he watched them kiss, as it grew dirtier and messier.

He watched Robby moan loudly into the kiss, seeing how Jack’s hands gripped his ass. He watched Jack bite his lip and pull the skin as Robby threw his head back.

The scene was making his hard cock leak in his slack; he could feel the dampness growing in his underwear. His hand started to travel towards his cock, wanting to palm himself. His cock craved attention, but he wanted to be a good boy for the older men.

He let out a soft whine, pulling Jack’s attention away from Robby. His hands gripped the material of his pants, not taking the risk of getting in trouble for touching himself without permission.

“I knew you would be needy. All worked up over us kissing, how cute,” Jack laughed.

Brendon could feel tears start to form in his eyes; he felt humiliated. He felt the humiliation run through his body, sending pleasure to his cock, feeling it dribble into his briefs. He let out a soft moan as the words left Jack’s mouth.

“C-can I?” He pleaded.

“Can you what? I can’t read your mind, Bren,” Jack scoffed. Robby was still in his hold, grinding against his thighs.

“Kiss, please?” He was embarrassed by how easily he’d obeyed Jack’s asks. He was never usually this compliant.

“Look at you, using your big boy words,” Jack taunted him, patting the seat closest to him. Brendon moved hurriedly, waiting for his next direction, unsure of who he should kiss first. He slowly inched forward, going in to join the kiss. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth, feeling the stubble rub against his skin.

Jack turned his face, kissing Brendon on the mouth. Brendon let out a soft hum, following the others' lead. He felt another pair of lips against his skin, feeling Robby’s beard rub against him.

Robby’s mouth had taken over from Jack’s position. Their kiss turned sloppy and messy. They kissed above Jack’s chest, right in line with his face. 

Jack could see the strings of saliva, their tongues clashing, their breathy moans. Robby pulled Brendon against his chest as they kissed.

“Fuck- look at you both. Fucking filthy,” Jack groaned as he watched them.

Brendon could feel his cock leaking into his briefs. Feeling his orgasm blooming within his chest. Brendon couldn’t help but whimper and moan, squirming in Robby’s hold. His hands were in his hair, gripping the man’s brown and grey hair, rutting his front against Robby’s thigh.

Jack kissed up his neck, inching towards both of their mouths, taking over Brendon’s spot, roughly kissing Robby.

Brendon watched as they kissed in front of him, watching their tongues lap each other. They explored each other’s mouths, spit coating their mouths and heavy pants leaving their mouths. He moaned as he watched them, his cock throbbing. The pit in his stomach rising, his orgasm in reach.

There should be shame for cumming from just watching two men kiss, but Brendon didn’t feel any of that. He was just so horny, and any type of climax he was happy with.

He slammed his legs together, hoping to withhold his incoming orgasm. He let out soft moans as they continued to kiss aggressively in front of him. He moaned one last time before his cum painted the inside of his underwear, tears welling in his eyes.

Jack pulled back from the kiss with a smirk. “ Would you look at that, he came in his pants. How embarrassing, cumming from just watching us kiss.” 

His head dropped in shame; his front was all sticky and wet. “ I didn’t mean to.”

“You must feel all gross and dirty now, poor thing,” Jack mocked him.

Brendon nodded his head, pulling against his pants and underwear. He used his puppy eyes, pleading to Jack for some form of help with his issue.

“Robby, baby? Why don’t you clean Bren up?” Jack sighed, pushing Robby towards the ground.

Robby sat between Brendon’s legs, smirking up at the man, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Go on, baby, pull his cock out. Help him clean up.” Jack encouraged, sitting back and watching.

Robby’s hands gripped Brendon’s pants and underwear, pulling them down. The other man helped him by lifting his hips.

His cock was soft from his last orgasm, but it wouldn’t stay like that for long. Robby inched his way between the man’s thighs, tossing the clothes off to the side.

He took Brent’s cock in his hands, pumping it up and down, using the cum to slick it up. Brendon let out a soft hiss, his cock sensitive. His cock grew hard as Robby’s rough hands rubbed his skin.

Robby licked the cum off his hands, pushing the cock into his mouth, lapping up the salty fluid. He moaned around his cock, vibrating the man’s now pulsing cock.

“F-Fuck, Robby,” Brendon moaned, his hands gripping the man’s hair. 

“Don’t you cum again. Get him all nice and cleaned up,” Jack ordered.

Robby’s mouth worked wonders, his tongue licking his tip, collecting the precum. He kept it up, lapping up the mess, letting his warm mouth gulf his cock. Going until he could feel the man tense in his hold.

He pulled off with a pop, wiping the spit and cum off his mouth, “all clean.”

“Good boy, doing just as you're told,” Jack praised, sitting up from his spot, moving closer to the others.

Brendon saw the tent in both of the others' pants, their own cocks achingly hard.

“Do you want me to help with yours?” He asked softly, mouth watering at the thought of having their heavy cocks in his mouth.

“How sweet of you to offer,” Jack said, unbuckling his jeans, pulling them down, along with his underwear.

He stood in front of Brendon, moving Robby out of the way. “Go on, Robby, stand up with me. Pull your cock out. Bren is going to help us out.”

Brendon sat face to face with their hard, leaking cocks, His mouth watering at the sight. 

He took Jack’s cock into his mouth, hallowing his cheeks. He pushed it down his throat, his nose flushed against his pubic area. With his free hand, he took Robby into his hold.

He heard both men groan at the sensations. Encouraging him to keep going with his tactics.

He bobbed his head up and down the shaft, tasting the saltiness of Jack’s leaking cock. He spread the precum from Robby’s tip all over his cock, slicking it up.

“Just like that, Bren. You’re doing so good,” Jack moaned as his fingers carded through the man’s hair.

Brendon moaned at the praise, pulling off of Jack’s cock, taking Robby into his mouth.

Robby sat heavy on his tongue; he moaned at the feeling, wrapping his lips around the cock, beginning to bob his head up and down. Jack, now in the place of Robby, stroked the man’s cock. 

Their breathy moans filled the room, Brendon bringing the men closer to their orgasms. 

“Fuck- Jackie. I’m going to cum,” Robby moaned. He needed permission from Jack to get his release.

“No,” Jack muttered. He stopped Brendon’s hand from pulling Robby away. 

“Wha,” Robby whined; Brendon’s needy whines echoed. 

“You want to fuck? Or just get your dick sucked?” Jack quirked. 

~

They had the taller male spread on the couch, his legs wide open and his hole visible. Brendon was already shaking with excitement, his legs trembling as he kept them spread apart.

“So pretty like this, being such a good boy.” Jack purred, his hands kneading the flesh. 

He couldn’t help but moan at the praise, his cock leaking even more. “I want to be a good boy for you and Robby.”

“Of course you do; you want everyone to know how good you are,” Jack’s fingers brushed against his rim, causing him to shudder at the feeling.

“Robby, open yourself up in front of Bren,” Jack ordered the other male. Robby’s clothes were quickly discarded, and his legs spread wide open in front of him.

As Brendon watched Robby’s movements, Jack's tongue made it to his hole and licked a stripe over it. “F-fuck,” he moaned. Jack went to town on his hole, kissing and licking his rim, slowly pushing his tongue inside.

Robby sat in front of him, his fingers working their way into his hole, thrusting them in and out. The man’s head was thrown back when he hit his own prostate, moaning and groaning as his lube-coated fingers opened him up. 

“Aah, Robby, you look so good,” Brendon moaned. 

Jack slipped a finger inside of him, thrusting it in and out, brushing against his prostate. “That feels so good, Jack. Am I being good for you?” Brendon pleaded.

“Of course you are, so pretty and so tight,” Jack added a second finger, his tongue still following the thrusts. He scissored his fingers, hitting his prostate directly, causing Brendon’s cock to spurt out more precum. Jack looked over the shoulders of the man he had bent over, seeing his husband drooling as he opened himself up.

“Both my boys look so good, my needy boys,” Jack cooed. He watched as Robby’s cock leaked and dribbled down his shaft. “F-fuck,” he mumbled.

“You wanna fuck Mikey, Bren?” Jack asked, “Please, can I?” 

“You hear that, Mikey? Brendon is going to fuck you,” 

Jack pulled his fingers out of Brendon, wiping the lube on the man’s back. Brendon moved towards Robby, placing himself between the man’s legs, spreading them wide. Robby was delicious; he was hairy and soft, so long and lanky, it was heaven. Feeling Robby’s soft hips in his hands as he positioned himself.

Robby grabbed the lube and slicked up Brendon’s cock, earning a hiss. “S-shit,” Brendon laughed. The lube was cold against his hot cock.

“Come on, Bren, fuck me please. I need your cock inside me,” Robby pleaded. “Go on, Bren, show Robby how good of a boy you are,” Jack encouraged.

That’s all it took for Brendon to line himself up and thrust inside all at once. “Fuck,” both of them moaned; the feeling of Robby’s tight hole and Brendon’s thick cock made them delirious.

“That’s it, boys, go on,” Jack groaned, stroking himself.

Brendon thrusted deep and hard into Robby, their bodies bouncing off of each other. Jack couldn’t help himself; he had already opened up Brendon, deciding to push his cock inside of the man. “That’s it, Bren, keep fucking Robby. You got this baby. I’m going to push all the way in,” 

“I can do it.” Brendon’s words were incoherent, wanting nothing more than to do a good job. He fucked into Robby as he followed the rhythm of Jack. 

Jack’s hands made it to his nipple, one hand on his hip as he fucked into him. He felt the man’s lips on his neck, sucking dark purple marks onto the skin.

Robby’s moans filled the room, his nails scratching Brendon’s back. He leaned upwards, capturing his lips, messily kissing himself as he got fucked.

“So pretty, both doing so good for me. Listening so well,” Jack groaned, pinching Brendon’s nipple between his fingers. His lips went to his neck, sucking more dark marks, getting Brendon to moan from all the sensations.

Brendon broke the kiss, kissing down Robby's face, jaw and neck, kissing to his nipple before taking one into his mouth. “F-fuck, Bren,” Robby moaned, his hands now in Brendon’s hair, gripping onto the strands.

Jack deepened his thrusts, now hitting Brendon’s prostate; each hit shot Brendon’s hips harder into Robby. “Ah! Fuck Jack, I’m getting close,” he moaned against Robby’s chest.

“I know baby, look at Robby, he is drooling everywhere. Both my boys are gonna cum soon,” Jack cooed.

Their skin slapping against one another, their loud moans continued to fill the room. Jack could feel Brendon shaking in his hold, but he kept thrusting into Robby. He could tell Brendon was waiting for permission, waiting for the next instruction.

“Such a good boy, trying to stay steady. Waiting for me to tell you that you can cum. Such a good boy,” Jack praised.

“Jackie, I’m close,” Robby moaned.

“I know, baby. Just a little longer, you boys can do it,” Jack’s own orgasm brewing closer, feeling the way Brendon clenches down.  

“I can’t much longer, Jack. Please,” Brendon sobbed. He couldn’t keep up for much longer, his legs starting to shake with each thrust.

“You did so good, go ahead. You can cum, cum with me boys,” Jack grunted.

He moaned loudly as his cum filled up the other man, watching as Robby’s cum spurted onto his own. Brendon’s thrusts came to a halt, falling forward onto Robby, collapsing onto his cum covered chest.

As the other two hit their climax, Jack’s quickly followed, pulling out and cumming all over Brendon’s back. 

Their loud pants filled the room, pressed up against each other's sweaty bodies. Jack quickly placed soft kisses on Brendon’s back and shoulders, reaching over to kiss Robby. “My boys did so good,” Jack praised.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up. My needy boys made such a mess,” Jack cooed.

After seeing how soft Brendon was for them, they quickly realized that Brendon wasn’t really a great white shark; he was more of a bull shark, docile and soft unless provoked. The man who had always been so hard and stern at work was nothing but a softly that sought out praise after praise. His desire to be good never faltered.

hi babe! thank you for your patiences!

feel free to send any asks/prompts/requests!

Idk if anyone wanted to be tagged 🫤