Hi! I’m Katie. 30s. I use she/her/they pronouns. I’m queer/bi/pan whatever, basically I do not discriminate. (Although I prefer my men fictional, queer and/or written by women). I’ve been on here way too long for my own good. I’m a mom, boss and social worker. Still that emo kid from 2006. Always impatiently waiting for spooky season.
I am a genuine tag yapper and serial reblogger. I tend to just tag whatever random thought I have at the moment. Most of it is pure nonsense and horny ramblings (it’s all I have to contribute 🤣)
Noah Wyle and Shawn Hatosy have got me by the throat. Most of the shit on here is dedicated to them and the beautiful women of The Pitt and ER (I’m currently rewatching). I am a Michael Robinavitch, Andrew Cody and Kerry Weaver apologist.
You can also follow me on my main @mspennylane (mclennon is real) or on my other SVU side blog @barisibabe
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Content: jealous/possessive jack. marking. established relationship. married rabbot. a little smutty/fluffy one-shot. they’re down bad for each other. romantic robby.
Summary: Jack watches Robby get hit on and stakes his claim. Not sure where this came from, but I had a vision.
The thing that surprised Jack the most about his relationship with Robby is how possessive he has become since he and Robby confessed their long kept feelings for each other. He knows Robby is a catch outside of the baggage he carries around with him. He’s tall, smart, handsome, and has the prettiest brown eyes. Dr. Sexy, Dr. Daddy, hot Chief of the ED. Jack has heard it all. But his favorite part is that, all those things about Robby are true AND Robby is Jack’s. His husband, his lover and his soulmate. That tall, beardy, hunk of a man belongs to Jack Abbot in mind, body and soul.
Despite being married for years, Jack’s heart still swells when he thinks about it. He’s not sure how he got so fucking lucky twice in one lifetime but he knows he will do absolutely anything to protect what’s his. Jack is a flirty man by nature, but for reasons yet uncovered, Jack goes absolutely feral when Robby gets flirted with by anyone but himself. Which is a lot considering how handsome he is. Robby on the other hand knows about Jack’s possessiveness and tries not to exploit it (for the most part—he’s a brat at heart). But since Robby is walking sex on (very long) legs and doesn’t know it, he often gets himself into trouble without even trying.
Jack was on a rare swing shift when it happened. Robby was walking towards the hub with a very handsome gentleman at his side, walking a little too close together for Jack’s liking. He was taller than Robby which was a feat in itself and dark skinned with piercing eyes and gorgeous hair. He looked like a model. He was younger than the two Attending’s by at least 10 years and still had a pep in his step.
Must be nice, Jack thought to himself as he felt his blood pressure rising by the second.
He watched Robby genuinely laugh at something the guy had said and the man handed Robby a small piece of paper (which Jack presumed could only be this guys number) and gave him a fucking honest-to-god wink before he sauntered away.
This woke something animalistic inside Jack.
He darted towards Robby and wrapped a tight arm around his shoulder and directed him towards an empty patient room. Jack had Robby pinned to the nearest wall before the door even fully closed.
“What. The. Fuck. Was. That?!,” He asked between kisses and nips at Robby’s throat.
“What was wha—aaahhh,” Robby replied as he hissed through his teeth.
“Doesn’t everyone here already know that you’re mine?” Jack asked again, not really expecting an answer.
He was so full of adrenaline, he was trying not to think about fucking Robby at the hub so no one ever even looks at him again. He’s managing to contain himself, but barely.
“Jack—,” was all Robby was able to squeak out before Jack’s hot mouth engulfed his. Their tongues met and wrapped around each other with fervor, tasting and enjoying their stolen moment. Robby was just as good at kissing as he was at most things. A true natural. It still drove Jack mad after all these years and Robby couldn’t help but moan at Jack’s unexpected ferocity. Jack was kissing him senseless.
“Shhh…baby, they’ll hear us….or maybe I should let them, huh?” Jack teased. “No one gets what’s mine, Michael.”
Robby could only shiver in response.
Jack continued his attack on Robby down to where his neck meets his shoulder. He pulled Robby’s scrub top to the side and inhaled.
“Fuck, you smell so good, Mike.” Jack traced his lips a few inches to the side and latched on. He sucked hard, feeling Robby tense at the sudden onslaught of delicious pain Jack was inflicting on him.
“Fuck, Jack. I love when you mark me. Makes me feel claimed. Makes me feel like I’m yours,” Robby confessed. His hands flew to Jack’s hair to ground himself.
“You are claimed, baby. And I’ll mark you again and again until everyone knows it.” Jack replied between sucks, licks and nips on Robby’s exposed skin.
All Robby could do was whine and moan and take what Jack was giving him. He was pinned by Jack’s strong body, it’s his favorite place to be so he wasn’t about to complain. He gasped as Jack cupped his obviously hard cock through his cargoes.
“This cock is mine especially, isn’t it, Michael?” He asks Robby, his voice dripping with lust. “Tell me.” He demands, squeezing.
“It’s yours, Jack. All of me. Everything. There was never anyone else for me. There is no world for me where I don’t belong to you,” Robby manages to choke out. Jack removes his hand and grabs Robby’s face and kisses him hard once more.
“Such a fucking sap. I’m trying to stake my claim and you’re not being fair.” Robby knows just how easily Jack gives in when he’s being romantic.
“You started it.” Robby says with a soft chuckle.
“And when we get home, I’m gonna end it by marking you up so good, Michael Robinavitch, that it’ll be weeks until the bruises fade. No one will have the audacity to fucking wink at you in my presence ever again.”
Robby smiled and kissed Jack once more.
“Deal.”
That night, Jack kept his promise. He made Robby come on his tongue, fingers and cock while he littered Robby’s chest and torso with purple bruises. He whispered praises along Robby’s body and created his own masterpiece of blown capillaries and red bite marks. It wasn’t until the next morning that Robby looked in the mirror and gasped when he was met with a slightly crooked but clear enough “J” sucked into his chest and stomach.
Jack hugged him from behind and rested his head on gently on Robby’s bitten shoulder, admiring his handiwork.
“Fuck…. I look like I got the shit kicked out of me.” Robby chuckled, he was transfixed on the mirror, pupils blown.
“Nah, brother. I think people will get the message when they see it.” Jack replied with a smirk. His love for this incredible man in his arms knows no bounds.
Jack slowly tracked his fingers around the marks, pressing in just enough to make Robby hiss.
“You’re the most beautiful work of art, I’ve ever seen, Mike. And you’re all mine babe.” Robby met Jack’s eyes in the mirror and smiled fondly.
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my favorite genre of rabbot intimacy is "it's not sex but it sure ain't a handshake" like okay your dicks aren't out but there's something more than casual going on here. i just know jack and robby are blurring lines you didn't even know existed.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/5
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jack Abbot/Michael “Robby” Robinavitch
Characters: Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Parker Ellis
Additional Tags: Friends to Friends with Benefits, Demisexual Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Grindr, Oral Sex, Internalized Acephobia, Safer Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Summary:
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jack interrupts. “Go back a second- was that?” He reaches over on impulse and swipes up out of Robby’s camera roll, going back to his home screen, photos of Robby’s trip temporarily forgotten. Tucked in the corner of the screen, Jack confirms that Robby apparently has Grindr downloaded to his phone. “Huh.”
When he was little, Robby liked lying with his head in his bubbe's lap, as she stroked his hair and told him stories. It quickly became their favourite thing, and even when he got older, she still let him do that, his head in her lap, as he told her about his day, or sometimes they just stayed like that in silence, comfort and reassurance. They did that until she passed.
As an adult, sometimes the sudden urge to feel that again and be comforted, almost takes him out with its intensity. He desperately misses the bond of unconditional love and trust. He'd love to feel that sense of peace and security just once more, with hands in his hair and and a voice promising him that everything will be okay.
But he's not a child anymore and it's just wishful thinking. He should be the one offering that comfort. But it's not like he can. Jake isn't little anymore, and it's not like he'd let him, even if he was speaking to him.
So it's fine. It doesn't matter. Robby is too old to be offered comfort in this way, and he doesn't have anyone to offer it to, so it is what it is. He had never asked any of his short term partners for this, the vulnerability was not something he could afford with them and the trust wasn't there. Even Janey wasn't privy to that part of Robby's needs.
Until the time he comes down with the flu. So bad, that he has to text Jack and ask for some help. Jack turns up to find Robby in the throes of fever, tangled up in sweaty blankets, and looking like he hasn't slept in days.
Jack gets Robby water and medicine. He helps him to change clothes and moves him to the sofa while he changes the bedding. Afterwards, settling Robby back into the bed, he suddenly finds himself with Robby's head on his lap, warm face nosing into his stomach and hears perhaps the most contented sigh he ever heard out of his best friend.
Safe. Jack hears Robby murmur. Safe now. Finally safe.
He wasn't really planning on leaving Robby on his own, but he certainly isn't going anywhere now. Settling against the headboard and cradling Robby closer to him, Jack slides his hand into Robby's hair and is rewarded with another soft sigh as Robby nuzzles even closer.
Jack doesn't move as Robby starts quietly sobbing. He doesn't yet know the importance of what he has the privilege to provide. Robby will tell him one day and Jack will always be the safe space that Robby needs. All he knows now as he leans down to press a kiss to his dearest friend's head, holding him impossibly closer, is that that's where he is supposed to be for as long as Robby needs.
Gloria asked him months ago about doing a three day guest lecture event at the University for the emergency medicine department.
A real chance to “get in front of prospective students and talk them through what could be expected. How the ED differs from other areas of the hospital.”
She really encouraged (gave no choice) him to express how he views emergency medicine in comparison to different medical fields.
Robby thinks it's bullshit.
He loves teaching medicine, don't get him wrong, but he's not the person who should stand in front of fresh-faced med students and say, "It's great, come try it out.”
He's half past his prime, always three coffees away from being put on a 72 hour hold, and hasn't slept a full night's sleep since the Bush administration. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for a department that so many already look down on.
But they do need lecturers, he is the department chief and he lost a bet with Dana, so he agrees to it.
Against his will — but still.
He works out a schedule, informs his staff, and even wrangles Dana into letting him bring Princess to describe the nursing aspect of the ER.
Hell, he makes post-it cards. Good ones, too.
By the weekend before his first lecture he's ready. Prepared. Spent valuable alone time with Jack practicing his speech, answering hypothetical questions, the whole enchilada.
Except for his outfits.
He has a tux or two. From weddings or hospital events he’s been forced to attend, but they're — impersonal.
Perlah says he needs to look inviting, comfortable, but not like he just rolled off the ED floor.
Meaning no scrubs, no hiking boots, no worn out hoodies with questionable barbeque stains. Robby isn't happy about it but he goes shopping.
He has no idea what he's doing, Robby's idea of a fun outfit is soft sweats and a cardigan, maybe a loose tee with some comfortable jeans. He has no need to dress up, okay. If he’s not at work, he’s at home and there isn’t anyone he needs to impress. Not since he and Jack finally broke their two decades worth of will they- won’t they. Basically, he hasn't bought nice, new clothes in years.
Given this hiccup Robby asks for help — readily letting Princess tug him to the nearest men's clothing store with his credit card and an absurd amount of trepidation.
It takes them two hours to find him three outfits he's comfortable with that pass whatever "aesthetic" Princess (and Perlah) have dreamed up for him.
After paying for it all, he takes his friend and coworker out for lunch, a haircut he didn’t think he needed but Princess insisted was necessary, then goes home and ignores the clothes until the day comes.
When Monday morning comes in, bright, early and much too soon he lays them all out and rifles through the bunch. Simple outfits, each harboring a "professor chic" style and they all fit him better than anything he’s owned before.
Three nice button up, fitted slim slacks with comfortable loafers that don't make his feet itch. One forest green cardigan and two suit jackets. He called it on the ties – already has an absurd amount from decades of birthdays and hanukkahs.
After a scary amount of time he finally grabs his selection of clothes, trudges in the bathroom to shower then ends up standing in front of the steam covered mirror while fiddling with his tie, half expecting someone to jump out of it and shout, “Boo.”
He went for the maroon button up, collar ironed flat, gold underline hidden from view with buttons that disappear into fabric. He felt ridiculous wearing the suit jacket, leaving it draped over the back of the toilet, opting for just the tie instead.
A simple one, soft grey with maroon pinstripes woven in.
He runs his hand over it then fiddles with his belt, then sliding his hands down his thighs, fingers tingling with nervous energy.
His slacks are charcoal with black subtle plaid running through, fabric folded neatly at the waist. They match his tie thankfully, leading him to the illusion that he knows what he’s doing.
Robby comes back up to his neck, catching the hanging fabric, smoothing a thumb over the gordian knot. Should he wear the tie? Maybe it's too much. It is constricting, pushing against his Adam’s apple. Maybe if he just-
He tugs it, loosening his collar until it hangs from his neck. It exposes the hollow of his throat, creases of wrinkles and red skin.
He looks ridiculous.
“This is stupid.” Robby drops his head, tapping his fingers on the counter before grabbing his glasses. He shoves them onto his face, forces himself to make eye contact and glares at himself.
“Stop stressing over this. You look fine. You look professional. You look-”
“So fucking hot.”
Robby yelps, jumping back from the bathroom mirror. He whips around to see Jack slouching in the doorway, work bag dangling from his arm. His curls in disarray, eyes heavy from a long shift. He has a red mark along his cheek, probably from an unruly patient.
Jack's hazel eyes trace him from his head to his foot and back again. A trail of heated embarrassment following the path his gaze makes.
Robby squeezes his fist, “Don’t-.”
“Shush.” His boyfriend holds up a finger, “I'm savoring this.”
Robby's nerves trickle away, skin still a live wire even as his shoulders loosen, “You're being ridiculous.”
“No.” He drops his bag then steps forward until he's crowding Robby against the sink, "What's ridiculous is how good you look.” Jack smells like the hospital, antiseptic with a faintly sweet smell of nitrile gloves. It's devastating how good it makes Robby feel. His lips part with a sharp inhale to keep himself calm in face of Jack’s — everything.
Robby's heart stutters, heat rushing to his cheeks, “I have the lecture.”
Jack hums, “I bet everyone in that class won't be paying attention to a word you say.” He leans closer, ghosting his nose over Robby’s cheek, trailing along his jaw, before tucking into the curve of his neck.
“God, if I was there I'd be fucked. I’d have to sit in the back of the class to keep myself from touching you.” Jack’s lips tickle his skin, breath hot, burning Robby from the outside in.
His hands jump to Jack's waist, pulling him flush until their bodies align, chest to pelvis. Jack's left knee sliding between Robby's thighs. He’s damn near breathless, tongue thick in his mouth.
“I doubt they'll have that problem you perv.”
Jack huffs a laugh, licking Robby's pulse until he groans and shivers. Jack's hands have found their way to his hips, one sliding further to cup his ass. He squeezes, once, twice, before tracing the seam between his cheeks.
“They'll be thinking about you bending them over your desk-”
“I don't have a desk-”
He bites him, sharp and quick, Robby gasps. Head falling back, eyes sliding shut as he groans. He's shaking, fine tremors running through his frame. He pushes into Jack, slotting their hips together in a faint attempt at friction. Jack rolls his tongue over his flesh, nibbling until Robby’s panting like a dog.
His pulse is in his ears, a haze overcoming his senses as Jack lavishes his neck and collar with attention. Soft kisses, scraping teeth, and soothing tongue all making his head spin. He fights whether to pull Jack closer, bring their mouths together and forget about the damn lecture, or push him away and muster up some decorum.
He opens his mouth to say as much but Jack latches onto the bolt of his jaw and sucks, hard and deep, Robby's knees nearly giving out.
“I think, shit, I think I’ll be lucky if they pay attention at all.” He’s breathless, fumbling his words.
His boyfriend nuzzles him, kissing back up his throat. When Jack’s other hand moves to his ass, spreading his cheeks before digging into the muscles, Robby knows he needs to put an end to this.
He keens. Jack ruts against him, cock a heated line through his scrub pants. Robby’s mind is mush.
“Jack.” He pulls himself together enough to surge upright and shove Jack's chest until he backs away.
Jack's pupils are blown, mouth red and slick, a conniving smirk curling his cheeks.
“That'll have them paying attention.” He lifts a hand to drag his thumb across the area he abused.
Robby flushes, pulse tachy as he flips around to see what's been done. A dark reddening mark hides along the edge of his beard. Visible enough you know what it is when you see it but tucked away enough it could be mistaken as a shadow from his collar.
He prods it, glaring at a chuckling Jack who comes forward to wrap his arms around Robby's waist.
“You're an asshole.”
“Probably.” He kisses Robby’s cheek, “But now you'll have something to look forward to. A reward if you will. ”
“Yeah?” Robby turns his head to examine the mark better, “What is that?”
Jack catches his eye in the mirror, “Me. Stripping you out of these clothes, leaving marks anywhere I want, having my way with you.”
Robby hums, “Sounds more like a reward for you.”
“Mutually beneficial.”
Robby laughs, shattering his anxiety, slipping back around to capture Jack's mouth in a kiss. It's steadying, inviting, anchoring him in place. Interrupted only by his alarm going off.
Jack kisses his forehead when they separate, walks Robby to the door. He gives encouragement, reminds Robby about his talking points and why doing this is an inspiring thing.
“Give them a lasting impression. Give them a reason to consider emergency medicine.” Jack says lastly, holding Robby's pack out for him,
“Sure, why not. Hey folks, come to the ED, where we got blood, guts and sluts.” He waves to his newly acquired hickey, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Jack winks at him, "That's what got me there. Now go, Professor Robinavitch, before I start asking for extra credit.”
He swats Robby on the ass as he turns out of the door.
-
The lecture went great, students asked all sorts of questions. They were truly impressed with the stories he provided and he got to experience the excitement of medicine from fresh eyes in a way he hasn't in decades.
He will not be telling Jack about the student who batted his eyes at him, saying “I could use a good tutor.” while slipping him his phone number.
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john carter who's too clingy for doggystyle. benton who has to sigh and relent and flip him over, missionary, because carter just wouldn't stop glancing over his shoulder with big wet brown puppy eyes and whimpering s'it good? m'I doing good, does it feel good?
benton leaning his forehead on carter's as he nestles back inside carter's fluttering hole, mumbling yeah, it's good, carter. you're doing good. john clutching onto him desperately as he cums, muffling his pitiful whines in benton's shoulder. <3
as requested by TheOneWithWhoLockHallows for the rabbot hole adopt-a-prompt! banner under the cut by @uzmacchiato
When Robby's brain gets so loud that he can barely hear the world around him, he can't bear to make more decisions. That's what Jack's for.
By the time they got home, Robby had made approximately three hundred decisions.
Trauma activations. Staffing shortages.
Who got the last ICU bed, whether to call a family, whether to push back on administration, whetehr to let a resident take the lead—
Every decision had mattered.
By the time he unlocked the apartment door, his brain simply stopped.
Jack noticed immediately.
“Hungry?”
Robby stared into the kitchen like he’d been asked to solve quantum mechanics.
“I…”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
Jack nodded once.
“Okay.”
No teasing.
No sigh.
Just an acceptance that Robby’s ability to choose had run out somewhere around patient number thirty two.
Jack disappered into the kitchen while Robby kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch.
A few minutes later, Jack returned with a bowl.
“What is it?”
“Pasta.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you’re eating.”
Robby looked up.
“You picked.”
“I picked.”
“… Thanks.”
Jack handed him a fork before sitting beside him with an identical bowl.
Decision fatigue wasn’t dramatic, it was quiet.
It looked like Robby standing in front of the refrigerator for four minutes because he couldn’t decide between water and iced tea.
Jack would simply open the fridge.
“Tea.”
“Yeah.”
The glass appeared in his hand before he’d even realised he wanted it.
It looked like Robby staring blankly at the television remote.
“What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care.”
Jack clicked on an old baseball game.
“There.”
Robby settled into the cushions.
“Perfect.”
It looked like standing in the grocery store.
Jack held up two brands of coffee.
“Any preference?”
Robby frowned at them.
“They’re… both coffee.”
“Mhm.”
“You choose.”
“Got it, boss.”
Jack never asked questions Robby couldn’t answer.
Not after a shift.
Instead, “Blue shirt or grey?”
“Grey.”
Done.
“Chinese or Mexican?”
“… Chinese.”
Ordered.
“Walk or shower first?”
“Shower.”
Simple, tiny decisions.
Never open-ended, never requiring unnecessary thought.
Just enough to help Robby find his footing again.
Dana noticed first, after a brutal shift.
The attendings had escaped to a diner because nobody had the energy to cook.
The waitress arrived.
“What can I get everybody?”
Orders went around the table.
When she reached Robby, he only blinked at the menu.
Everything looked like words; They didn’t mean anything.
Jack didn’t even glance up.
“He’ll have the turkey club, fries, no tomato. Coke.”
The waitress scribbled it down, and left.
Dana watched the exchange.
“… You didn’t ask him.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
Robby smiled faintly.
“He asked me what sounded good after work.”
“And?”
“I said a turkey club.”
Jack shrugged.
“I remembered.”
Dana looked between them.
“Seriously?”
Robby rubbed at his eyes, exhausted.
“If he asks me to make another decision today, I might actually cry.”
Jack slid a glass of water toward him before he could even ask.
“There.”
Without looking. Like muscle memory.
The reciprocation wasn’t obvious.
Most people thought jack was the stoic one, the independent one. The one who didn’t need looking after.
They were wrong.
Three weeks later, a mass casualty. Fourteen hours. Everyone was wrung out.
Jack had been making rapid-fire decisions all day. Which patient first, which OR, which intervention, who could wait another sixty seconds.
His face gave nothing away, but Robby knew.
As they walked toward the oarking garage, Jack stopped.
Just… stopped.
Keys in one hand, looking at the rows of cars.
Robby waited.
“… Jack?”
Silence.
“I…”
Jack laughed once.
“I cannot remember where we parked.”
Robby smiled.
“Blue level.”
“Oh.”
“Row seventeen.”
“… Right.”
“You’ve parked there every Tuesday for six months.”
Jack blinked.
“I have.”
“You’ve also forgotten your coffee on the roof of your car twice this week.”
“I have.”
“And you haven’t picked dinner once since Monday.”
Jack finally looked at him.
“… I’m cooked.”
“You are.”
Jack sighed.
“I don’t want to think anymore.”
“I know.”
Robby held out a hand.
“Keys.”
Jack handed them over without hesitation.
No protest, just trust.
“You drive.”
“I was planning on it.”
People assumed Jack took care of Robby because he was easier to read, expressive. His exhaustion showed.
Jack’s didn’t.
His fatigue looked like becoming quieter.
Missing turns while driving, standing in the pantry unable remember why he’d opened it, staring at the washing machine because he couldn’t remember whether he’d already started it.
Robby knew every sign.
“You already brushed your teeth.”
“I did?”
“Mhm.”
“… Right.”
“You’ve also asked me what day it is three times.”
Jack blinked.
“I have.”
“You have.”
Robby gently took the laundry basket from him.
“I’ve got this.”
Jack wanted to argue.
Instead, he leaned forward until his forehead rested against Robby’s shoulder. Just for a second.
“… Thanks.”
Robby smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
At work, it was more subtle.
No one needed to know.
After a marathon shift, Robby watched Jack reaching automatically for another chart. He quietly intercepted.
“I’ll take bed twelve.”
Jack frowned.
“I can—”
“You’ve been on your feet for eleven hours.”
“I’m fine.”
Robby handed him a fresh cup of coffee.
“Go explain the plan to Ms. O’Connor.”
“That’s…”
“The easy patient.”
Jack looked at him.
Recognition flickered.
Robby wasn’t giving him less work.
He was giving him fewer decisions.
One complicated trauma became one straightforward conversatioin.
One impossible choice became one familiar task.
Jack’s shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly.
“Okay.”
Later, Mel caught Robby smiling to himself.
“Something funny?”
“You know how everybody thinks Jack takes care of me?”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Oh, absolutely does.”
Mel grinned.
“But?”
Robby glanced across the department, where Jack was finally sitting for the first time in hours, sipping the coffee that had mysteriously appeared beside him before he’d realised he needed it.
“But he lets me take care of him.”
“And that’s different?”
“It is.”
“How?”
Robby’s smile softened.
“Jack trusts almost nobody with the parts of himself that stop working when he’s exhausted.”
Across the room, Jack looked up.
Their eyes met.
Robby held up the spare set of car keys with a tiny, questioning lift of his eyebrows.
I’m driving?
Jack answered with the smallest nod.
Please.
No words. None were necessary.
Because love, after enough years, sometimes looked less like grand declarations and more like never having to ask, Can you make one more decision?
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