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It made sense for them to sync their individual sleep schedules to their respective shifts, so for Robby the New York Times Spelling Bee and a cup of strong-brewed coffee was what got him going in the mornings, while for Jack the Spelling Bee and a tall glass of lemon water was what helped him to level out before heading to bed.
But on rare mornings like this one—when Jack's night shift was behind him, but Robby had a full day off ahead of him—they had the time to sit down together at their kitchen table. It was the kind of slow, quiet morning that Jack had come to love. Robby had omelettes and sourdough toast ready when Jack walked in the door; the air was rich with the smell of coffee; something instrumental played low and slow from the speaker perched on top of the fridge. Jack went into their bedroom, shucked his prosthetic and switched to his crutches; went back to the kitchen where Robby greeted him with a plate and a smile.
They ate breakfast while Jack filled Robby in about the latest bullshit pulled by Tyler up in Neuro—Jack wasn't saying the man didn't know his stuff, but he was saying he was a tinpot tyrant—and then they settled in to do the Bee side-by-side. Jack was in his usual spot with a clear line of sight to the front door. Robby, as always, was to his left, where he could bask in the patch of sunshine that slanted in through the kitchen window just so at this time of year.
"Why don't they ever accept 'tiffin'?" Robby said, resting his cheek on one hand while he tapped at his tablet screen with the other. "Perfectly valid word."
"Oh, you grow up eating a lot of tiffin in Pittsburgh, guv'nah?" Jack said in a terrible English accent.
Robby flipped him off without looking away from the screen.
"Now 'titty'," Jack went on, lapsing back into his real voice, "no titty allowed, that is a crying shame."
Robby sighed.
If asked, both Jack and Robby would have flatly denied that they were competitive about the game—who cared who would be the first to reach Genius? did it truly matter which of them had earned more lifetime Queen Bees?—but that, of course, would have been a lie. They were competitive about it. After all, they'd been challenging one another, meeting one another toe to toe, since the day they met.
So when Jack found all of that day's pangrams with a speed that surprised even him, it left him feeling very smug. "You'll need to get up even earlier in the morning to catch me, brother," Jack said, stretching ostentatiously.
Robby raised his eyebrows at Jack over the top of his glasses and said, dryly, "I caught you a long time ago."
"Well, yeah, if you want to get technical ab—" But Robby pulled him close into a kiss—slow and lush and toe-curling, one big hand wrapping around the nape of Jack's neck—and Jack didn't need to find any words at all.