Work Text:
They have their own rituals with each other – separate rituals, secret handshakes shared with just one of their relationship, something that not all three of them share. Rituals for love, for having quiet times together, rituals for sex, rituals for comfort.
Jack loves doing sports with Frank, loves discussing studies with him. He and Robby have their barbecue sessions and those moments of waking up together on their days off. When he needs comfort, Robby comes to find him on the roof and lets him talk himself out. When one of them has a bad day, the other meets him at the railing and talks about the difference they make. About the lives they save, the good they do; that the world would be empty without the other in it.
There is love in those rooftop moments, and comfort.
They're at home right now, watching a football game, just him and Robby. Because Frank went 'home' to where he grew up, to bury someone. They offered to come with him, wanted to, to offer support and help him carry his grief. But Frank said he needed to go alone. He asked them to stay here, something that rubbed both of them the wrong way. They accepted his decision but let him know that should he change his mind, he only needed to call, and they'd be on the next flight out.
It's noticeable, that Robby's head is not in the game right now. He's sitting here with Jack, sure, but his mind is miles away in North Carolina.
And it's not that Jack doesn't love Frank – but Robby knew him first, probably loves him a little harder because the two of them truly fought for this relationship to happen. Their history is complicated, the trust between them had to be earned. They had to work more on building this love between them. It's solid now, strong, firm, but it wasn't always. It's a boat that has weathered storms.
"You alright?" he asks, because everything about Robby is unhappy.
"I'm just… angry that he doesn't want us there."
"Angry because?"
"Isn't this-" Robby points between them, "Supposed to be about supporting each other?"
Jack nods. "It is. He'll come around. He'll… be back and we can show him that we love him. Yeah?"
Robby takes a deep, shaky breath. "We could fly out tomorrow. Fly out and be there for the funeral and take him home."
Jack tilts his head. "Which isn't what he wants."
Robby doesn't need to say out loud what he's thinking – that he knows Frank and that their third is not always good at knowing what he wants, or even good at asking for it if he does.
"Let him come to you?" Jack asks then, carefully. He knows both of them, so he's not toeing a line here. He's not overstepping, he knows that. They both need a third sometimes to tell them when they're being stubborn.
Robby sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."
"That said, I think you should call him. Let him decide if he wants to pick up."
"After the game."
"Yeah, after the game. Then you can tell him the score. Might be a good distraction from the shit he's going through."
Robby snorts.
They don't even get to the end of the game, when Robby's phone suddenly pings with a message.
"That him?" Jack asks when Robby leans forward to where the phone is lying on the couch table.
"Yeah," comes the answer, quietly and carefully. "He wants… ah, hell. That's…"
"Hm?" When Robby gets up and goes to the bookshelf, Jack leans his head back and watches. There is a book they sometimes read. Or rather, Robby reads it and Frank has his head in Robby's lap. It's never a good day when that happens, so it's fitting that today should be one of them.
"Want to listen?" Robby asks and looks towards the bedroom in the back, offering to go if Jack wants to watch the game.
"I've never heard you read that to him before." Because this is their ritual. He's never wanted to intrude on those moments. He doesn't even know what the book is that Robby reads or what it means to them. Or why it's always the same when Robby has a bookshelf full of stories.
"Do you want to?" Robby asks. It's an invitation to their ritual that he probably won't get again.
"Sure. If it's okay with you?"
"You don't get to lie in my lap for it, though," Robby says, drawing the line.
Jack shakes his head. "I wouldn't… let me get comfortable, though." He gets up to grab Robby a glass of water in case he needs to wet his tongue during. Then he sits down in the lounge chair with one of the pillows from the couch, adding some distance.
Robby sits down where he always sits, on his end of the couch, opens the dog-eared book with its creased spine on the right page, and calls Frank.
"Hey." There is some quiet back and forth, asking how Frank is holding up, getting an answer back that at least doesn't make Robby jump for airplane tickets. At some point, Robby asks, "Ready?"
He gets an affirmative back, because he starts reading. It's a poem, Jack realizes quickly. A poem that sounds like a story. He doesn't quite get it, doesn't understand until Robby has already read paragraphs and paragraphs of it. He knows this poem inside and out, his voice smooth, tone comforting. Jack wonders if he could recite bits of it without looking.
There is a lot of emotion between the lines, love and struggle and casual intimacy, and Jack falls in love with both of them a little more for it. There are questions in it that shatter him.
When Robby is done, the poem read, the love and comfort felt, the last lines spoken from memory, the book closed, Jack stays still where he is and lets them say their goodbyes before the call is disconnected.
"Thank you," he says, head heavy against the backrest of the chair. "For letting me stay. For sharing."
From the corners of his eyes, he sees Robby watch him. He looks over. "It's a good poem," Robby says simply and smiles at Jack. "It reminds us both of what happened. Questions we asked of each other, things we were mad about."
"It's sad, Robby. It's fucking sad."
Robby laughs out loud, a sudden burst, a free sound. "I guess it is."
"But it's also very you." He gets up then and moves back to the couch next to Robby. "Jesus, fuck, the two of you. This is your comfort ritual."
Robby shrugs. "There was a lot of sadness before we got to… this."
Jack nods. Yeah, there was. He blows out a breath. "I love you both, you sad fucks." He presses a kiss to Robby's cheek and thinks that those two are damn lucky they have him. "Let me call him later. I'll ask if he wants us to come tomorrow."