Rabbotfest - Day 1: Drunken Confession
“S’cause you’re so pretty.”
Robby flushes. “Man, shut up.”
“No. S’true,” Jack slurs. He sways back and forth in Robby’s hold. “Tha’s why er’yone likes you.”
“There are plenty of people who don’t like me,” Robby argues. He tightens his grip on Jack’s bicep, ignoring the pleasant muscle under his palm, and tries to unlock the door while keeping him steady.
Robby’s face grows impossibly hotter. “I am not.” Maybe he used to be, years ago. Decades. When he was young and fresh-faced. When he still believed he could make a real difference and hadn’t let the weight of his life drag down his appearance.
Jack hooks his chin over Robby’s shoulder. “Yeah, ya’re.”
The door opens, and they practically topple inside. “Alright. Let’s get you to bed.”
"Yeah," Robby laughs. "You've been talking out of your ass all night; it's time to reset."
He hauls Jack to his guest room and lets him collapse on the bed with a heaving sigh. Robby gets to work detaching the prosthetic while Jack mutters incoherently to himself.
"I can't understand you."
"Is that why you won't date me?" Jack says. It comes out so clear that for a moment, Robby is scared he's somehow sobered up. "Because 'm not pretty like you."
The fear evaporates. Sober Jack would never say something so ridiculous. "You don't want to date me, Jack."
"Yeah'do," he pouts, hands hitting the bedding in frustration. "You always say no, or call me 'brother.'"
"You started the 'brother' thing."
Jack hums unhappily. He clumsily strips himself of his jeans and t-shirt and curls around one of the pillows.
Robby should leave it alone. Jack is clearly tired and, not to mention, beyond inebriated, but he's too nosy for his own good, and the high odds of Jack not remembering a thing from tonight make him brave. "If you want to date, all you have to do is ask. I'll say yes."
Jack glares at him with drunken, glassy eyes. "I do ask. You think I'm being your friend." He groans with the return of a painful memory. "I took you ou'to dinner an' you tried to set me up with some lady a'the bar."
A harsh chill crashes over Robby. He remembers that night extremely vividly. He'd been having too good a time, and when he saw that woman watching Jack, he figured she was the safest option to temper his hopes and bring him back to reality.
"Well..." Jack practically drank the bar dry tonight. He's more likely to pick winning lottery numbers than remember this. "Ask me tomorrow, and I'll say yes."
Jack turns his head away from the pillow just enough to peek at Robby warily. "Really?"
Robby chuffs. He pats Jack's shoulder. "I swear."
Jack moves too quickly for his limbs to catch up and falls to a messy pile on the floor, though he doesn't seem to mind. He's digging in his jean pockets before Robby can ask if he's okay.
"Fine," Jack grumbles. "Need ma phone."
"What for?" Robby tries to lift him back into bed, but Jack pushes him away.
"Hey Siri, set reminder tomorrow mornin'."
"Ask Robby out." He frowns and clarifies, "Promised to say 'yes.'"
"I've set a reminder for tomorrow--"
"Alright." Robby hauls Jack back onto the bed. "That's enough for tonight."
Jack settles back over the covers with a satisfied smile. "Will you kiss me?"
Robby's heart thuds against his ribs, and his palms are clammy. He only had two beers, but his body is acting like he's wasted. "Sure."
"Can' wait," Jack murmurs. He's asleep before Robby can take a single step towards the door.
Robby watches him for a bit. His eyes dart to Jack's phone. He knows the password; he could delete the reminder and let Jack wake up hungover and unembarrassed.
Jack lets out a choked snore. Robby grabs his shoulder and rolls him to his side; Jack's limp hand brushes his belt and sends a flood of heat through Robby's abdomen.
He leaves the phone alone. Jack can decide to ignore it on his own.
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