socially awkward asexual smart dude (gnc) ✨🎶

Robby loves playing with Jack's curls. He loves sitting together on their couch with Jack laying in his arms, His head tilted back, eyes closed, humming under his breath as Robby twists his fingers through Jack's hair.

After they shower when his curls are flat in some places and springing other as they dry.

After waking up with Jack's hair a complete mess, absolutely wild on his head making him look like someone stuck his fingers in a light socket.

After he's been playing tennis at the VA and he comes home sweaty, ringlets sticking to his temple. Robby buries his fingers in them scrubbing through them while Jack laughs at him.

Any chance he gets he has a curl wrapped around his fingers, tugging them, stroking them, using them to pin Jack to the mattress as he fucks into him. He'll kiss along his hairline, nuzzling into silver strands feeling them tickle the tip of his nose and catch in his beard.

She had brought in her grandmother, a kind old woman with type two diabetes and high blood pressure. When he had finished her check-up, Nellie had slipped him her number. He had no reason not to call: she was pretty, smart, not a coworker of his, and loved her grandmother very much. As a Bubbe's boy himself, he appreciated that. They'd been dating for two weeks and it had been going pretty well.

It was a rare, much appreciated day off. Robby was at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and working on the crossword when his phone rang. He wasn't really in the mood to talk as he had not had his breakfast yet, but he picked up regardless.

"How's your morning, Nel?" He asked, only half paying attention as he filled in 23 across: Four time NBA MVP.

"Oh, is it Nellie?" Jack asked by the stove. Then he called out "Hi, Nellie!"

"What's Jack doing there?" She asked.

It was a pointless question in Robby's book. Why wouldn't Jack be there? He continued his crossword, still focusing more on it than the phone call. "Making breakfast. Jack makes breakfast, I make dinner, and we trade off who makes lunch."

"You... trade off." She said slowly, like taking turns was a strange thing. Then again, she was an only child. Except Robby was also an only child so maybe that wasn't a particularly good excuse.

"Of course, it's only fair."

"And you don't think that's weird?" Her voice had taken on a peculiar note, but nothing alarming. He decided to ignore it.

"Why would it be weird? We also trade off who does laundry." Jack was giving him a puzzled look, but he waved him off.

"Robby, I thought you live alone."

"I do." He drew the final syllable out, not really understanding what the problem was.

"Then why are you doing each other's laundry?" Okay, the peculiar tone was something to take note of. He set down his pencil to focus on the call.

"We have busy lives! It's just easier to do them all together!"

It was easier to do it all together. They had come up with the plan during a week when both of them ran out of laundry at once; they had procrastinated it to a point of untenability and a better system had to be found. That better system was taking turns where one of them did both of their laundry. They might be willing to neglect their own needs, but they would never be able to neglect the other's.

"Okay," Nellie sounded like she was trying so hard to be patient. "How does the cooking schedule work if- for example- Jack's working that night?"

"I stop at his house on the way home and it will be waiting in the microwave. Same thing when I'm working, he stops by my house and I'll have his dinner waiting for him."

It was a good system, for the same reason as the laundry. Admittedly, it did mean that Robby often had breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast, but Robby was fundamentally incapable of cooking eggs, while breakfast was Jack's specialty. Once you got used to it, it wasn't so weird, and on Robby's day off, he got to eat breakfast with Jack. 100% worth it.

"How far apart do you live?"

"Just 20 minutes away. Nothing crazy."

"Just... 20 minutes..." She sounded like she was barely holding onto her sanity by her fingertips.

"We're planning on moving closer but we just haven't found the right place yet." Robby explained. It had been surprisingly difficult, finding a place they could both agree on.

"Have you considered moving in with each other?"

"Of course, but we decided against it. You know, two 50 year old men living together, when they can both afford to live alone- it gives the wrong impression."

"Yeah, that gives the wrong impression," she snarked. Robby really didn’t know what the issue was. "So let me get this straight. You drive 40 minutes out of you way every single day to eat someone else's leftovers."

"Well, not every day." They weren't crazy. "We sleep over pretty regularly." Honestly, an understatement. They slept over most days unless one of them had a pressing obligation.

"Robby, I know you don't have a guest room. Do you make Jack sleep on the couch?" And there again, she sounded like her sanity was almost out of her grip. Robby didn’t really get why.

"No, we usually just share a bed. You've seen my bed, it's more than big enough." He wasn't cruel enough to make Jack sleep on his piece of shit couch when he had a nice, comfy California king in the bedroom. That would just be rude.

"You know what? I gotta go. This was... very enlightening."

Nellie hung up and Jack and Robby exchanged a perplexed look.

"What was that about?" Jack asked, carefully flipping the omelet he had been working on onto a plate.

"I have no idea," Robby said, returning to his crossword. "Northern Italian city known for it's cheese? Five letters."

“Could we just— stop talking?”

“We can always start kissing.”

He knew it wasn't safe for the patient for him to be in there.

All he could so was stare at Jack.

He's slowly trying to back out of the room when Jack notices, "Skipping out, Mikey?" His face is flushed, dust thickening his hair.

"I'm gonng go check on the other trauma -" he hooks his thumb over his shoulder.

Jack beams, all teeth and sparkling eyes, "That's why you're the best."

i cannot even imagine the way jack felt, having lost his wife, then watching robby tell him he was leaving for three months in such a horrible state mentally.

he'd know that the whole point of robby's sabbatical would be to get some distance. to have quiet, to reconnect on his own with everything he had been neglecting due to his career. he'd know all of this, but truly wouldn't be able to keep himself from worrying.

with great restraint, he'd keep himself to just a text every couple hours. asking something mundane, just to be sure robby would respond. jack would change his ringtone for him to something obnoxious, so he wouldn't miss it even if he was asleep.

once he didn't respond for a long while, jack would find himself picking at his thumbs. asking whitaker if he'd heard anything, even if he knew the kid didn't talk to him too much besides updates on the house. he'd start thinking every little sound was his phone, his heart sinking a bit when it wasn't. jack might even get sloppy in the field, making little mistakes or late calls in the trauma room.

concern gnawing at his gut and frustrations at himself harbored heavily in his head, he'd cave. dismiss himself long enough to go up to the roof. take deep breaths of the higher air, sitting down against the guardrail and calling him. listening to the ringing drone on for one cycle, then two. his jaw tight, his mind returned to memories of the funeral he had attended years earlier. watching a casket lowered into the ground. all of the death he had seen, robby at his side.

his eyes would be burning, knuckles white as he held his phone in a crushing grip by his ear. calling again when the last dial timed out and he got voicemail. calling again after that. body trembling, his breaths terribly short. regretting everything he had done. not begging robby to stay better, not telling him how loved he was more often. he couldn't lose someone again.

jack's breaths are shuddering out of his chest by the time the call clicks, and he hears robby's voice on the other end. just hearing the rumbling "hello?" over the line cracks deep down his chest with relief so extremely heavy that a sob leaves his lips. his head bows between his knees, his exhales only heaves.

he barely registers robby's concern on the other side of the phone, his focus on trying to remain upright and not let the reassurance that robby was alive bring him to the ground completely.

michael, who had been struggling as much as suspected, measuring the strength he truly had left to keep going, would feel harrowing levels of realization in that moment. this was narrowly-evaded grief he was hearing. jack trying to pull the tendrils of himself back together, thinking he had lost one of the only people he had left.

robby would come back that night.

meet jack at his home, who was thrown too off-kilter to be useful the last couple hours of his shift. the sun would barely be cresting as he stumbled back slightly on the porch with the strength of abbot's embrace.

the way his body was still shaking, one hand moving to press hard over robby's chest between them to feel his heart beating under his palm. his breaths so incredibly deep, face pressed into his jacket.

Except one night when Jack is having a horrendous shift and he just what’s a kiss goodbye and to go curl up in their bed and sleep he claps Robby on the back in the middle of the nurses hub and says

"It's always an adventure," Robby says with a wry grin.

"Only way out is through," Jack replies. They set off.

They don't hurry- there's no reason to hurry. They're far enough away from the trailhead that even if they ran, it wouldn't make a difference. They keep going- alone on the trail, they sing songs, terribly. At one point, Jack starts calling out marching songs that his drill sergeant would use to help them keep pace in BMT. At one point, Robby slips on the slick earth and covers his pants in mud up to the knees. The whole time they're laughing, they just keep laughing.

By the time they make it back to the truck, they're soaked to the bone and shivering, with the biggest smiles on their faces. When Robby removes his boots and what had to be a cup and a half of water pours out, they break into more laughter. It isn't even that funny, but the endorphins, the sheer what the fuck, this might as well happen, of it all- just shines of light of hilarity on everything.

Jack had spare socks and spare shirts in the car, but their shoes and pants are fucked beyond repair. They'll just have to stay wet for the three hour drive back. It was worth it- they had more fun on that hike, soaked through the bone, than on any hike Robby could ever remember.

On the drive back, the weather breaks. The clouds shuffle off, the clear blue sky is revealed and a golden light shines over everything. Classic rock is on the radio; Jack singing along to the guitar solos instead of the lyrics, for some reason- and Robby thinks I could have missed this.

It's the kind of thought that couldn't stay inside, so he says it. "I could have missed this." At Jack's raised brow, he continues. "I almost killed myself. I could have missed this."

"I'm glad you didn't, brother. I'm glad I didn't, too. Would have been a shame to miss today."

"It's beautiful." It sounds stupid, it sounds trite, it would sound absurd to any person other than Jack, but he feels like he's witnessed a miracle. The unexpected summer thunderstorm, the blue sky, the sun shining through the clouds. It's all so beautiful. Somehow, he can actually see it now. He took so much for granted. He never appreciated it, not anything.

He does now, in this moment.

And Robby. Just keeps thinking it. He feels the breeze through his window and hears someone laughing far away and he thinks I could have missed this. He and Jack argue over a game and he thinks I could have missed this. He holds a baby, freshly delivered in his hands. I could have missed this. Even the sadness is a blessing somehow. He almost missed out on so much.

He tries to take a picture any time the thought strikes him, that way he can look back and see the proof that even though things are still so bad sometimes, it's still a miracle that he's allowed to see it at all.

He explains it to Jack and Jack- in the dead-pan way he says jokes with an utter seriousness, like what he's about to tell you is life or death information- says "Every day's a gift, brother. That's why they call it the present." And Robby laughs and laughs and shoves him for being a piece of shit.

"I was trying to be open and honest, brother. Why do you have to ruin everything?" Robby moans, though the smile is still on his face.

"In the spirit of me ruining everything-" Jack takes his hand, pulling him in for a kiss. And oh, Robby wasn't expecting that. Hadn't expected that at all, but it's so good, and how could he have never expected this? It seems so obvious in hindsight.

I could have missed this, Robby thinks, the rest of his life unfurling before him- an open road, a hand in his, sun golden on everything. Even the future sadness, even the future pain. He sees the sun, and even if he doesn't, he knows it's there. And there's a whole life in that, in knowing the sun is there. In knowing he has someone to dance through the darkness with.