Shakedown Street

So now if Robby isn't there the cat howls and howls to such a degree his neighbors congratulated him on his new bahy.

After a week of not being able to sleep and every pair of sheets he owns getting pissed off he shows up at Robby's with a cat and a suitcase.

Robby answers the door with a toothbrush in his mouth not having time to ask whats going on before Jack is storming his way inside.

"Uh, hello?"

"I'm moving in."

"What?"

Jack shoves a yowling Oddball into Robby's arm then marches into the kitchen for a beer.

"He won't shut up unless you're there so either you take the cat or I move in. You still have the shower chair in the guest bath."

Oddie, of course, becomes the best cat in the world.

Until he realizes that life could be better if his two dads shared a bed.

He'd pee non stop on the guest room mattress until Jack finally stopped trying to sleep in the room.

He'd curl up on Robby's chest but refused to close his eyes and fall asleep unless Jack was snuggled next to them.

And maybe Oddie isn't the only one who enjoys waking up cuddling his best friend.

Its not until Jack watches Robby kissing Oddie's face when he realizes that he wants to kiss Robby.

That he'd like it if Robby scratched his head and rubbed his nose against Jack's.

Of course the way Jack and Robby admit they're in love is when Oddie gets sick. Both of then pacing back and forth in a vets emergency office. Jack apologizing for leaving his medication out.

Robby worried one of his plants was poisonous.

Both of them trying not to cry.

Oddie was fine. He swallowed some string and it upset his stomach but the scare put things into perspective.

"Mike." Jack whispers over Oddie's sleeping form.

Robby pauses stroking Oddie's ear to peer at him, "I love you."

Jack blinks.

"Thats what I was going to say you asshole." He shoves him.

Robby clicks his tongue, "Jack we have a child together and share a bed. I've known you love me."

- is louder in bed?

- is better at dirty talk?

- lasts longer?

- initiates sex more / is hornier for the other?

- is kinkier / nastier / more adventurous (tries new positions, toys, scenarios, roleplaying, etc.)

Thank you for your time 🤍

Robby, but only because Jack is intentionally quiet so he can hear him better

Depends on the night. Jack is more forthcoming, but when Robby starts running his mouth, he can't stop

Jack, but only because he refuses to cum unless Robby does first

Equal. All their friends think it's Jack because he's the one that flirts, makes dirty jokes, and gets handsy in public, but in the safety of their home, Robby is just as down bad

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Been wondering what Robby and Jack are like when they are drunk. And because it is common for people to behave opposite of their usual demeanor, or subconsciously in a way that reflects their suppressed feelings, I think it would be quite interesting to imagine how Rabbot’s drunk selves would look like.

———

I imagine drunk Robby being more honest with his feelings and more possessive over Jack.

Robby looking for Jack around the bar they went out to that night with the Pittlings, and frowning upon seeing him linger at the bar for a bit too long. When, in fact, Jack is merely having a casual conversation with the bartender, as people often find him easy to talk to.

It took another thirty seconds of Robby watching from afar, waiting out their exchange, before he set his beer down abruptly and getting up from their booth in one swift motion. He left a brief “excuse me” to whoever he’s been chatting with, strider towards the bar and circled his arm around Jack’s waist as he approached, the gesture itself silent but clear.

Robby’s marking his territory.

---

the first year after covid restrictions lift, the ptmc admins decide to host a halloween party in appreciation of the staff

He'd be dead asleep only to wake up the sound of a window creaking.

His house is old, inherited from his Bubbe, so it could be a draft, swelling wood, or one of those troublesome hoodlums a few blocks away that like to throw firecrackers at peoples front doors.

He grabbed his old baseball bat and trudged downstairs. He sees nothing in the hallway or the living room, so he turns into the kitchen, and "AH!"

He swings at the figure hunched inside the fridge.

Jack catches the bat one handed and shoves a dripping slice of pie into his mouth.

"Dammit, Abbot. How did you get inside?"

"Guest room window. I knocked."

Robby groans, dropping the bat and marching back towards the stairs, "Its three in the morning. I'm off tomorrow and fully planned on sleeping in. Don't you have a wife to annoy."

Jacks lumbers after him, "She's out with friends. You should get that window fixed. I told you this -" Robby slams his bedroom door in his best friends face and crawls back into bed.

Once he'd come home from work to the front door wide open.

His alarm system didn't alert him to an intruder.

He set his bag on the porch and checked his garage to see his Jeep still inside. Then, he goes around the house to look for any broken windows.

What he finds is Jack on his back patio, inside his gated yard, sipping an iced tea.

"Dude."

"Your front door was unlocked."

Robby marches back around front and stomps through his living room out the back where he can glare at Jack up close.

"I could have called 911 instead of checking."

Jack sips his tea. "No you wouldn't have."

Robby huffs, "You have your own place. You know."

"Yeah." Jack wipes a finger through the glasses condensation, "But without Liz-"

Robby didn't kick him out or close a door in his face that time. Instead he made him dinner and told him to just call ahead and Robby would let him in when gets home.

Countless times, he woke up to Jack in bed with him. Sound asleep, sprawled out, still in scrubs with questionable stains.

Robby always rolled him over to the other pillow and went about his morning routine.

One night, he had a very handsy date with him. She was grabbing his ass, smearing lipstick on his neck, and it took a few tries before Robby got the door open.

Sandy, Sandra?, pushed him against the wall the second they were inside.

She had Robby's belt undone and his pants around his thighs when he found the light switch and flicked it on.

"Jesus fuck." Robby yelped both from the sudden heat of a hand around his cock and Jack sitting on his couch licking a spoon of peanut butter.

His date was not pleased to find out Robby was in a relationship with someone. (He wasn't)

Or that he was living with someone (he wasn't.)

Or that she wasn't asked ahead time about having a threesome (she would have.)

Ultimately, Sandra, no Rebecca, left And while Robby didn't get laid, he didn't go to bed alone. Jack climbed in with him, laughing his ass off and stealing his covers.

He once smacked Jack in the back of the head with a bag full of grapes when he caught him climbing through the garage window to get inside.

"You locked all the other windows."

"Theres a spare key under the mailbox, man."

"Brother, you know I'll never remember that. "

Not that any of this stopped after Robby gave him his own key.

He still woke up at odd hours to someone rifling through his kitchen. He stumbled into the bathroom half awake to find Jack shaving his face far too often.

Left for work from an empty house only to arrive home to a warm dinner and Jack watching the game.

It was all old hat by the time he until one afternoon after going grocery shopping.

He'd been to make a dish he saw on instagram (Shut uo, Dana, you mentioned it first)

Jack was supposed to be in therapy on tuesdays. Plus, he hadn't been sneaking in for a few days, so he wasn't expecting him.

Certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on Jack fucking his fist. Three of his fingers plunged deep inside him while huffing into Robby's pillow.

Definitely wasn't expecting Jack to whine for him, stretch out his arm and beg Robby to fuck him.

"Please, I can't wait anymore. I want you, Mikey. Fuck, please-"

And who the hell was Robby not to give Jack what he wanted.

Afterwards, when he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, he noticed a second toothbrush already there.

And a different shower curtain.

Actually those weren't his towels either.

So, what's the plan?

📹 hbomax IG

It's hotter than it should be. Jack's thighs bracket either side of the Triumph, fists squeezed around the handles. He's leaning forward with the curve of the bike, ass snuggled up close to Robby's crotch. Robby's wrapped around him from behind, holding on tight as Jack twists and turns with the road.

He didn't think he'd get on the bike, let alone let Jack drive it.

When he mentioned taking it out to the mountains the weekend they both had off, he was prepared to fight for his right. He'd come up with a list of the ways Jack would decline and why he should say yes instead. He'd even bought a new helmet to prove he'd be safe — and hey, here's another one, if you're willing to go with me.

Except Jack didn't say no or come up with some snippy remark about organ donation. Instead he sipped his coffee, shrugged, and said, "Why not."

"Really?" He almost dropped his phone.

"Yeah, sure. It'll be fun. Could I drive?"

Robby squinted. "I was talking about taking my bike."

Jack took another gulp. "Yeah, I know. It's been a while since I've been on a bike. Even longer since I've driven one." He finished his cup, spun around, and set it in the sink. "Let me know when you want to leave and I'll get my stuff packed."

Robby tried to picture it for the days after that conversation, because Jack had said he'd been on a bike before. Not just been on one — driven one. That wasn't something he ever thought Jack would do.

Or would have done.

He'd put up a real fuss when Robby first showed him his plans to buy the Bonneville. Threw a hell of a tantrum when Robby showed him the route he was planning for his sabbatical. Avoided him for days after his first riding course.

A part of him wondered if Jack would even be comfortable on the bike, with his leg and all. He'd almost talked himself out of the trip — right up until he stepped outside and found Jack straddling the bike, playing with his phone.

His cock hardened so fast he almost passed out in the driveway.

That erection hadn't gone down at all, even after three hours of riding, because of course Jack knows how to control his ride. His arms flex when he brakes, thighs quiver when he balances. When he drops a hand from the handlebars to cradle Robby's where it rests over his stomach, he almost whimpers.

Jack's body molds to him perfectly, curls into him with precision. When they lean forward his hand slides up Jack's stomach to cup his chest — the thick muscle of his pec, a hardened nipple under his thumb.

And of course his ass.

It bounces every time they hit a bump, nudging into Robby's cock when they stop for lights. Robby had stopped breathing fifty miles back, after Jack lifted his visor long enough to kiss his knuckles.

When they reach the mountain pass and climb off the bike, Robby has to take several long breaths to keep it together. Jack's leg just swings right over the handlebars — no creaks, no groans, just one smooth move.

He's so fucking hot Robby might combust.

"Hey, Mikey." Jack hollers.

Robby takes a deep breath, turns back to the bike, and yep — he was right. Even hotter.

Jack's helmet hangs off the handlebar, his hair a mess, curls catching the afternoon light. His face is flushed red, brown-sugar freckles standing out against his cheeks. His leather jacket is tossed over the seat, pant leg rolled up as he unlatches his leg.

When he glances up, his hazel eyes are shining with amusement — and something darker underneath. "You wanna get my crutches from my bag?"

"Uh, yeah." Robby clears his throat, heading straight for the bag.

Jack sets his leg against the bike as Robby digs through snacks and water bottles for the collapsible crutches. He's pulling a bag of beef jerky from the straps when a hand closes over his crotch.

"Oh, fuck." Jack flexes his fingers.

"Thought you were going to hump me like a dog at the last stop."

Robby bites his tongue, forcing his hips not to roll into the friction Jack's giving him. Jack's palm rubs his bulge, fingers trailing back to cup his balls and squeeze.

"Hngh." He topples forward, catching himself on Jack's arm.

Jack hums. "Then when we got stuck in that traffic jam." He pulls until Robby's flush against him. "I felt you twitch. You grabbed on so tight I thought you'd bruise me, Mikey."

"Jack—" Robby clutches the wrist over his crotch. "We're in public."

"Sure are."

Robby glares at him. "If you don't stop—"

"Stop what?" Jack uses his free hand to pull a crutch from the bag, snapping it straight. "Stop this?" He pushes hard, dragging his palm up and down until a steady rhythm builds. The friction against Robby's cock is torturous — too much and not enough at once. His jeans, tight all day, dig his boxer briefs into his waist. Precome dampens the fabric, making each twist near the head slick.

"We — we're supposed to—" Go on a walk up the trail, look at the clouds and the sky, and definitely not hump his boyfriend's hand like a dog in rut. Robby tightens his grip on Jack's wrist.

Jack chuckles. "Like me on your bike this much, baby?"

His tongue glues itself to the roof of his mouth.

"Mike."

Air leaks from his nostrils in a steady stream.

"It's so hot." He rambles, grinding into Jack's palm. "The way you handled her — like you were made to ride her."

Jack pushes off the bike, the drag of his crutch alerting Robby to steady him. He catches him around the waist, tipping his head back to look up as Jack leans into him.

"I was made to ride something." He yanks Robby closer by the dick.

"Fuck me." Robby drops his head onto Jack's shoulder.

"I heard there's a place just off the trail." Jack kisses his neck. "A little more privacy for people who want to get away." He nips.

"Let's go." His voice comes out high and reedy. Robby clears his throat, rolling his eyes when Jack laughs into his shoulder.

slice me with your jawline who said that

Here’s a guy who’d be a tikkun olam poster child, except… if you’re constantly doing repair for others, you’re gonna burn out.

Someone needs to whack him over the headwith this:

The lack of a family, for someone of his generation, would also be good and complicated, especially if we decide to see the Pitt and his coworkers as the place he’s put that energy. Even if he weren’t traumatised and burning out, that would already be a disastrous way to live.

Robby knows full well what it means but he’s stubborn and the last fucking thing he wants to do is slow down and really self-examine.

But the rabbi, who’s wise to the resistance thrown up by Robby and countless congregants like him who she’s worked with over the years, just shakes her head.

“Please secure your oxygen mask before assisting other passengers,” she tells him, her voice deadpan like a flight attendant giving the safety spiel for the fourth time that day.

Robby glares at her, but the rabbi cocks her head and glares right back at him.

Noah Wyle as Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch in The Pitt, s2e15