I need a rabbot confession that just slips out - in a very simple mundane moment.
It's an unspoken thing between them that Jack shows up after his shift if Robby has the next day off. They'll eat breakfast together and then Robby will plant his ass on his couch for hours while Jack takes the guest room to sleep. They both relax better with the other around - even if they are in different rooms. Something about knowing they're sharing their time and space. Existing together.
When Jack eventually shows up in the living room, he's in a washed out band tee from a concert they caught together decades ago and a dark pair of sweatpants. His curls are messy, sticking in every direction. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, one of his biceps has lines and imprints from sheets and to Robby's delight Jack's cheek has the same lines from the pillow. Jack must have slept like a baby.
Robby does realise Jack is talking to him. Voice still deep and gravely, he catches something about "trash tv" so he guesses Jack is complaining about the show he's watching but Robby isn’t listening. His chest is so warm and he's so happy to watch the early afternoon sun hitting Jack's sleepy features.
"I love you."
Robby says it in the middle of Jack's sentence. He didn't mean to say it out loud. He thinks it a lot. It's a quiet ever present thing in the back of Robby's mind. He's known for a long, long time.
It shuts Jack up. He's looking at him like he thinks he must have misheard. This would be Robby's chance to think of an excuse. His Chance to make it looks like he genuinely misheard him.
Instead he repeats himself.
"I love you, Jack."









