Art for the soul

It’s not finished but dammmmnnnnnnn. This fic has me screaming and crying with every chapter.

Robby was never used to celebrating his birthday, let alone receiving gifts. Now that Jack finally found his way into Robby's life, he took it upon himself to show just how much Robby deserved his love and everything more.

—

Robby doesn’t have a childhood photo album. 

The first time he learnt that this was a thing was in fourth grade, at a friend’s birthday party. Their parents brought out a family photo album and showed the kids sitting around the dining table — this was them at three years old tripping over a scooter, this was them graduating kindergarten, first time at the zoo crying ugly tears being scared of the tiger — while Robby’s friend tried to fight back the embarrassment of being exposed by the impromptu conversation that the anecdotes triggered, Robby’s gaze lingered. Memories documented in such detail was a concept so foreign to him, and what his friend saw as being put on the spot in front of their friends, all Robby saw was a childhood full of love and a kid cared for enough for ordinary things to become memorable. 

He was too young to suppress the tiny flicker of longing for something remotely similar taking root in his little heart, but he was old enough to know that it wasn’t a good idea to dwell on these thoughts. He had a roof over his head. He had food to eat and clothes that fit. And even if there were days he cried silent tears facing the wall on his small twin bed, he would tell himself that he had enough. That his bubbe took him in when she didn’t have to. That he should be grateful. That he should require nothing more than what she could offer. 

Robby spent his school years teaching himself to occupy the right amount of space. To hold himself in a way that was just tall enough to be acknowledged and not particularly noticed. And when untended emotions left alone for too long threatened to surface, he pushed them down and tucked them away in a box, the lid made up from the phrases he knew too well by heart. 

Don’t be too much, don’t need too much, and don’t hope for too much. 

That was exactly what Robby told himself as he prepared and packed his bags for med school. He didn’t have a lot of things. And among those things he had less that he allowed himself to call his own. 

But he did have photos. Seven of them, to be exact. All different sizes, some faded and a bit wrinkled on the edges, like that of his mom that his bubbe gave him, reluctantly after a night of confusion and tears, and the one of him as a baby, staring into the camera with eyes so big he often wondered what he was thinking back then. 

There were other ones, newer and the images more crisp — four of which was given to him by friends or their families. Not exactly photos of him, but more like photos with him in it. Memories that he participated in and happened to be captured with the main characters. People kind enough to give them to him after the film developed. He grabbed a brown paper envelop to put them in, one by one, putting his favorite photo last on the top of the thin deck — the only one he had of him and his bubbe. It was taken on his twelfth birthday, his bubbe asking a favor from his neighbor using their camera. Robby was sitting sideways on her lap in the photo, one foot on the edge of the chair to balance out his weight because he was a growing boy who was afraid that he was too heavy for his bubbe to bear. She was smiling at the camera, and Robby was looking at her. Not exactly smiling, but happy. Happy enough for a kid that had already lost the privilege of being a kid for some time. 

—

He was never a fan of birthdays. When he was younger it reminded too much of what he didn’t have, and as he trickled into his adult years it became an old habit of being totally comfortable of not being in the center of attention. 

That, all changed when Jack came into his life. Robby never explicitly told him the reason why he hated making a deal out of his birthday, and Jack being Jack, understood enough not to probe. But he made sure from the start that Robby didn’t spend the day alone. It began from a casual “do you want to watch [whatever game is on that day] after your shift”, and they would eat takeout, drink a beer or two like they often did any other day, and Jack would never mention anything about the significance of that particular day, whatsoever.

Robby appreciated it. He appreciated it more than words could describe, because only Jack knew how to leave enough room for Robby to not be self-conscious of his company, but at the same time, stay close enough to fill up that emptiness he was too scared to name. Jack managed to ease into his habits in ways Robby only realized after it had happened, and throughout the years, with the patience held only by someone who loved another dearly and quietly, or someone who was secretly gifted in taming very easily startled animals, Jack had managed to morph the itinerary of Robby’s birthday from a casual hangout to nice dinners out, activities that happened to exist on the same day, to a decade later, coming to Robby’s and cooking an elaborate dinner for him with dessert that suggest the least amount of resemblance to a birthday cake. 

And now, a few months into them crossing the bridge and moving in together, Jack had made it his business to start introducing the bizarre concept of gift-giving. 

They had just finished dinner and settled in the sofa, Robby’s body loose and buzzing from the abundance of sugar Jack had snucked into the chocolate panna cotta that was apparently also making him emotionally pliable. Because Robby was just now noticing the rectangular object sitting on the coffee table, wrapped neatly by someone who also had the audacity to put a gold bow on it. 

“What is this?”

“This,” Jack drawled, not bothering to hide the fond amusement in his voice, his arm coming across the back of the couch and landing on the nape of Robby’s neck, “is what common folks call a gift.”

Robby stared at him. With those big doe eyes that made it more than acceptable to say that he looked like a deer in the headlights. 

“Would you like to open it?”

Robby kept staring.

“Hey.” Jack’s voice softened, his hand gently squeezing the back of Robby’s neck, his go-to Robby-soothing gesture in moments like these. 

“I know we said no gifts, but this is technically not a gift for you, it’s a gift for us. It just happened to need you to reveal it for us.” Jack paused, letting that settle in. 

“Do you think you can do us the honor, sweetheart?” 

Robby blinked. He was not mentally prepared for this. As much as he wanted to curl into himself and disappear into his tangled emotions that had been summoned by this situation, the gentleness in Jack’s voice made it hard to think about disappointing him.

As Robby gingerly reached out to the wrapped package, wearing an expression of someone bracing for impact, Jack thought about the conversation he had with Robby, all those years ago, when he asked him what he wanted for his birthday. Robby had looked so scared and startled that Jack sensed there was something buried underneath that Robby was not ready to confide yet. It was later, after talking to Dana and Adamson and bonding over shared love for the same person, that he got a glimpse into what Robby had went through as a kid. Even Adamson had only been told pieces of the story, him being the person closest to stepping into Robby’s orbit. 

They all loved Robby. And they all understood that Robby needed time to be comfortable with letting himself be loved. And probably more time for him to believe that he was deserving of all the love they gave to him unconditionally. But they were willing to wait, especially Jack. Especially after Adamson passed and Dana had more on her plate. Jack was determined to show him all his love from the sidelines until Robby felt ready to come to him. 

And here he was. 

Right next to him. 

Holding the gift that hopefully would convince him more of just how lovable and deserving of love he was. 

“Jack…” Barely a whisper. Robby was looking down at the unwrapped gift, his brown eyes bright and face so soft that Jack wanted nothing more than cradle him in his arms and never let go.

Sitting in Robby’s lap, was a photo album. 

Jack had spent months putting it together, digging through old files and learning about negative films and photography jargon that he never thought he would need one day. But he had wanted to do this for Robby for a very long time. Ever since Robby showed him the handful of photos he had of his childhood and Jack had tried very hard to hold back his tears as his heart ached for him. For a child forced to grow up in a fortnight. For a child who grew up without people having the capacity to celebrate his every milestone. For a child that learnt too quickly to not need what he required. For the child that was still inside Robby, who Jack longed to reach through and hug him and tell him that he was not alone. 

And he got to, in this way. 

Robby was flipping through the album now, quiet and nearly reverent. Jack turned and placed a gentle kiss on his temple, before he rested his head on Robby’s shoulder, gazing down at the photos together. 

Med-school Robby, smiling at the camera, stethoscope around his neck. Robby in his 20s, laughing, a real toothy laugh that Jack found incredibly endearing. A single photo that Jack was lucky enough to find of Robby in his MSF days. More of Robby as a young doctor, wearing the same serious expression he still did decades later in trauma rooms. 

“Oh.” Robby let out a breath, his thumb brushing against the plastic film covering the photo of a younger version of him standing next to Adamson. Robby mid-30s, tall, confident, eyes determined. Adamson looking up at him, smiling, eyes soft, proud. Next to it, photo of them sitting together in discussion. Another page of Robby standing and watching Adamson as he lectured. Adamson patting him on the shoulder while Robby laughed. 

“How on earth…” Robby looked towards Jack, his eyes red around the edges.

“With lots of help and some favors promised.” Jack’s finger brushed against Robby’s, tracing over the figure of a younger Robby in scrubs. “Look at you.” He said softly, watching the color blossom on Robby’s cheeks. “Just as handsome.”

Robby’s breath caught, eyelids fluttered as he made an attempt to say something, gave up and went back to the album. 

Jack let him. He had all the time in the world. And Robby didn’t need to say anything out loud for Jack to hear him.

—

The next section was getting closer to where they were now. Robby growing out a beard, as the chief attending. Robby presenting at donor meetings. Robby in his element in the ER.

And Robby with Jack. Both of them a decade or so younger, talking to each other at the nurse station. Robby and Jack at conferences together, smiling at the camera. Robby and Jack doing handovers, talking to student doctors, giving instructions. 

“And…that’s when I inserted myself into your life.” Jack mused, his eyes catching Robby’s and he could tell Robby was thinking about those days as well. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and warmth settled into his expression. 

“I knew you were gonna be trouble the day you walked into the trauma room with that smirk and snapped on those gloves like you owned the place.”

“Well, I’m your trouble now.” 

“I’m having an emotionally vulnerable moment right now and all you do is tease.” Robby shook his head as he turned a page. “You never change.”

Seeing Robby take in the next section was a treat that Jack savored. He would never admit it but he shed more than a tear or two while he put the photos in. It was the most elaborated section, because it was where their story truly began.

And Jack had treasured every single moment of it.

There were selfies of them together. Photos that Jack took of Robby when he was unaware of it happening. Screenshots of texts that made him blush seeing them again. Coffee cups, plates of breakfasts, bowls of salads, but always in pairs. Because they existed as a pair now. Photos of random things that became their inside jokes. Robby sprawled on the floor after giving up on assembling their bookcase. Domestic Robby. Robby making faces. Sleeping. Robby on the toilet flipping off at Jack behind the camera. The last photo, a selfie of Jack with Robby brushing his teeth in the background, wearing only his boxers.

“Was that one really necessary.” Robby murmured under his breath.

“I wanted to capture every moment of you, of the life I’m sharing with you. Because no matter how mundane you think it is, to me, it is you there, with me, alive, and present. And that means so much to me, Robby.” 

“You can’t just say that…” Robby nudged him gently on the side, “All serious and that when I’m only made aware of a photo existing of me like this.”

“You should know that I played nice because I have many photos of you wearing less than that.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Jack quipped with a smug grin. “You love me.”

“I do.” Robby huffed out a laugh, closing the photo album and putting it back on the table. His expression shifted as he turned towards Jack, fingers interlocking with his.

“Thank you. For the album, for the dinner, and all of this.” He kept his gaze on the album as he gestured between them with his other hand, flustered. “I don’t know how I deserve you.”

“Robby. Look at me.” Jack put some force into his voice, and that caught his attention. Robby stilled.

“I put this together because I want you to know that you’re cared for, that you’re loved. That of all people, you especially deserve something celebrating you. This is only the beginning — all the pages that’s left unfilled, that’s you. That’s us.” Jack’s used his hand on Robby’s neck to pull him close, their foreheads touching now.

“You came this far, and all I did was gather the evidence that each of your steps counted. And you won’t be in this alone anymore. You were never alone, baby.” 

Jack planted a soft kiss on the edge of Robby’s mouth. His nose brushed against Robby’s face, damp now. 

“I’m here. And I love you. So much. And I’ll be here no matter what, love you no matter what.” Jack paused, squeezing Robby’s neck to let the words sink in. His voice was rough as he continued.

“And the most important thing is, you deserve all of it, and so much more. And this here, this album, is that love made tangible for you to feel, to touch, to believe in.”

Jack pulled away to look into Robby’s eyes again. Somehow he was also crying now. But through the blurriness he could see Robby, his gaze fond, present, there. And for a brief second he could see a small boy with the same doe eyes staring back at him.

robby “harmlessly” ragebaiting trinity until she genuinely has to walk away so that she doesn’t say something that’ll cost her her job in the pitt

robby and trinity starting to share a vocabulary/saying the same thing at the same time, trinity saying “we’ve been spending too much time around each other”

trinity calling robby because she has a flat tire, robby showing up and also lowkey not knowing what to do

robby using words he found on the internet wrong and trinity being like “don’t say that” every time

trinity getting robby a shirt that says “the man. the myth. the legend.” for father’s day

House - a TV show with a cranky disabled doctor that says some ableist, homophobic, racist and misogynistic stuff. But he's so brilliant everyone puts up with it. Oh and he pops Vicodin like it's going out of style. Also he wants to fuck or be fucked by his best friend Wilson who is one of the only humans he cares for

Sons of Anarchy - it's about a motorcycle club. It's bloody and dark. I'm not going into detail because some of you would not be able to handle it

Game of Thrones - these characters for the most part were not good. It was complex and up until the last season good.

Animal Kingdom - none of them were good. I will die on the hill that Pope deserved better but none of them were good. They were complex and honestly the majority of the issues comes from the manipulation of one horrible woman.

you know you biologically

cannot get me pregnant’

Titus Danforth/Flynn Carsen crack ship nonsense

• They meet at boarding school

• Titus is there because all the Danforth’s have attended basically since the school opened

• Flynn is there because it’s the best school in the country and he busted his ass to get one of the few scholarship spots available

• Titus was supposed to have a private room, but he got in trouble at home over the summer so his dad had him changed to a shared dorm as punishment

• Flynn is super enthusiastic to have a roommate (aka a built in friend)

• Titus doesn’t want anything to do with him

• Luckily, Flynn is terrible with social cues and he follows Titus around regardless of how obvious he makes it that he doesn’t want Flynn around

• Eventually Titus becomes attached to this nerd, and he’s undeniably helpful with school (it’s really easy to trick Flynn into writing his essays for him)

• Flynn falls off of a horse during an equestrian lesson and a bunch of people laugh at him

• Titus beats them with a riding crop and Flynn has to pull him off them

• Something similar happens during a recreational game of golf

• Flynn decides it safer for everyone if he and Titus hang out one on one and Titus doesn’t argue because he likes it better when he has someone’s full attention

• Titus invites Flynn to spend breaks at the Danforth Manor

• Sometimes he says yes, but he still has to visit his mom occasionally. When he doesn’t join, Titus throws more tantrums than usual and Ursula teases him about his “boyfriend”

• When he does visit, Flynn is too enamored with the Danforth’s collection of antiques to realize they are literally evil

• After they graduate, Titus has no ambitions beyond being a spoiled trust fund baby and though he doesn’t understand Flynn’s desire to keep going to school, he funds his higher education with no expectations of those “loans” being paid back

• Titus goes to every one of Flynn’s many, many, many graduations

• When Flynn eventually becomes the Librarian his first instinct is to show Titus everything but he’s not allowed so he sits in the library like ☹️ bc what’s the point of all this great stuff if he can’t share it with the one person who will listen

• Judson gives him a list of high value items they haven’t been able to find and Flynn recognizes quite a few of them from the Danforth collection

• He’s like, “uhhh… are you sure I can’t tell anyone?”

• It’s a firm “no,” but when Flynn visits Titus he can’t keep his mouth shut and mentions visiting a place with a collection that rivals his family’s and Titus tells him that’s impossible

• His father and sister overhear and begin plotting to steal from the library by using Flynn’s affection for Titus against him

• Titus doesn’t want to do it. Flynn is the one person that genuinely likes him as a person and he’s scared of losing that, but he’s never been good at wriggling out from under his family’s thumb