Shakedown Street

"jesus fucking christ," the guy next to him muttered, rolling his shoulders as he shifted on the tile. "did they pick the hottest goddamn day of the year to rob the place?"

robby looked at the stranger sidelong, taking in as much of him as he could while assessing if the man was going to be one of those people who decided to play the hero. curly auburn hair that clung to his neck and forehead, sweat beading down the divot where his clavicle met, the shortest pair of jean shorts robby had seen outside of daisy duke and a pittsburgh steelers t-shirt that had been cropped across the stomach. the guy wasn't fat but he was thick, bulkier than robby (who was embarrassed to admit that even at thirty he was a string bean), and robby couldn't help but notice the thick curls of hair peppering across his stomach and the collar of his shirt.

most noticeable, however, was the fact that the guy was missing the lower half of his right leg, a forearm crutch laying on the ground alongside him. robby's mind immediately went to the worst case scenario -- the robbers opening fire and this guy being caught in the thick of it -- and he must have made some kind of face because the stranger turned his head slightly to look at robby fully. "this your first robbery?"

robby couldn't help it, cracking a grin in response but lowering his head so the robbers didn't see it. "can't say it's something i'm used to."

"i was just trying to deposit my paycheck," the guy groaned, flexing his fingers against the back of his head. "you?"

"same," robby lied, suddenly self-conscious about the check in his pocket that said love, grandma in the memo line. "do you think these guys will steal our checks?"

"that's too easy to trace," the guy said, shifting again, and robby wondered if being on his knees like this hurt more or less without being able to use his toes for balance. "no, these guys aren't getting out of this bank, man. listen."

robby fell silent, hearing the tap of the men's shoes on the tile of the lobby floor and the teller behind him softly crying; beyond that was the faint sound of police sirens. the robbers seemed to hear it at the same time as the hostages, a murmur running through them, and one of the robbers fired a shot into the ceiling, a few people screaming and ducking. "everyone up!"

robby got to his feet but didn't move beyond that, reaching his right hand out to the man beside him. "come here," he said, and the guy looked at him; robby was struck by the colour of his eyes, hazel and flecked with green, and felt himself grow strangely hot. he thought maybe the man would refuse his hand out of pride but was surprised when he took hold of robby's forearm, hauling himself up and slinging his free arm over robby's shoulders.

"thanks," he said. "jack, by the way."

"robby," robby said, instinctively putting his arm around jack's waist. "you live nearby?"

"across the street," jack said. "hence no prosthetic."

"bad day for it."

jack laughed softly, letting robby begin to lead him along with the others; it was clear that the robbers were herding them behind the counter, and robby couldn't help but wonder if they were preparing for a prolonged shootout. "don't worry," jack murmured as if he'd read robby like a book. "these guys aren't gonna shoot anybody."

"how do you know that?"

"shut the fuck up," one of the robbers said as he came up beside them; robby turned his head to look at the man and was immediately struck in the face by the butt of the man's gun. the impact sent him staggering backwards, and with jack's poor balance the two of them went down, a few of the other hostages coming closer to help them back up. "don't touch them!"

"jesus, man, he's bleeding," jack said, robby tasting the blood in his mouth as it streamed down his face from his nose. "you okay?"

"it's fine," robby said, stumbling back to his feet and pulling jack up after him. his head was swimming, black spots on the periphery of his vision, but he got behind the counter with the rest of the hostages and lowered jack easily before dropping down next to him. the sirens had gotten louder, practically screaming outside, and robby pressed his hand to his face, feeling the curve of his nose where it had very obviously been broken. "still think they won't shoot?"

"they won't," jack said, moving closer to him; robby saw that he was shirtless, and a second later saw that he was holding his t-shirt in his right hand. "come here."

he took hold of robby's jaw with his left hand, his fingers thicker and palm broader than robby's own, and dabbed at his face far more gently than robby thought he was capable of. "i think i have a concussion."

"probably," jack murmured, robby staring at him intently. "what?"

"i lied. i wasn't depositing my paycheck. my grandma sent me money for my thirtieth birthday."

jack laughed, his smile as crooked as any robby had ever seen. "you're old."

"i guess so. how do you know they won't shoot?"

"i was in vietnam," jack said, pulling back a bit; his shirt was certainly ruined now. robby kind of hated that; he had thought the crop top was cute. "i know when men are capable of killing."

"is that how you lost your leg?"

"no," jack said. "a shark bit it off." robby made a half-choked noise and jack grinned at him. "i'm kidding. i lost it to a pit trap in vietnam, yeah."

robby glanced down the line of hostages, the three robbers now huddled together at the end, clearly nervous, clearly sweating, and wondered if jack's instincts were right. "my nose is broken, you know."

"i know," jack said. "it looks fucked up."

robby was about to ask if it was a dealbreaker, if jack wouldn't want to grab a drink after all this was said and done because of it, but before he could speak there was the faint, muffled sound of a megaphone out front, the cops asking the bank robbers to surrender. "I really think i have a concussion," robby said again, barely getting the words out before slumping over sideways against jack.

when he came to, it was in the back of an ambulance. robby jerked upright, panic seizing him, and found that a paramedic was sitting there; next to him was jack, still shirtless but looking otherwise intact. "holy shit," jack said, startled. "do you always wake up like that?"

"what happened?"

"you passed out, i told the idiots in there that they'd killed you, they panicked. surrendered almost immediately without even checking. i told you they weren't capable of it." robby stared at him, disbelieving, and jack grinned. "hell of a day, huh?"

I've been binge watching ER lately. 5 seasons in after watching The Pitt as well. Noah Wyle you're one of a kind (thirstily)