Work Text:
Jack Abbot was a lover.
There was no denying it. Ask anyone and they would agree. He flirted with anyone he found attractive, regardless of how they identified. But he hadn’t always been so confident, so open.
When he was a Senior in high school, he took the homecoming queen to prom. Lucille Hooper. Tall, blonde and dressed in blue. He wore a vest in the same shade with his tux.
Two weeks later, his father caught him making out with the quarterback behind the shed in the backyard. Justin Greer. His father had shoved the two of them apart, getting in Justin’s face and yelling at him to ‘get home before I tell your father he’s got a degenerate for a son’. Justin scrambled away, feet sliding in the dirt as he tried to get sure enough footing to bolt.
Jack swallowed hard as he watched the other boy leave. As soon as he was gone, Jack’s father grabbed him by the front of his shirt, fist angrily twisting the fabric as he dragged him into the shed. The heavy door swung shut behind them, leaving them with only the sliver of light coming through the small gap. “Dad—”
His father cut him off with a backhand to the face. “Shut up.”
Jack clenched his teeth, said nothing, knowing his father wouldn’t give a shit what he had to say anyway.
“Did you fuck him?”
Jack’s gaze flicked up from the floor to meet his father’s eyes. “No.”
Another hit. Then another before he was shoved backward into the workbench behind him. “Did. You. Fuck. Him?”
“I told you. No.” Jack snapped, fists clenched at his sides.
His father narrowed his gaze and looked him over. “Good. Here’s what’s going to happen. You aren’t going to tell anyone about this. You aren’t going to say a word. Tomorrow you’re going to the recruitment office and enlist. When you graduate, you will ship out to your chosen branch of the military. Is that understood?”
“I’ve already been accepted to college. I’m going to be a doctor.” And they’d fought about that too. About Jack thinking too highly of himself.
His father stepped forward and Jack flinched before he could stop himself. “You’ll enlist or you’ll be kicked out of this family. I know you don’t give a shit about me, boy, but I’ll make sure you never see your mother or your sisters again. And I’ll tell Greer exactly what I caught that boy of his doing. What do you think he’ll do to your little friend then?”
So, what choice did Jack have, really? He chose the Army, talked to the recruiter about taking a medical track, even as he realized half of what he was told was probably lies. He walked across the stage, got his diploma and hugged his mother when she cried before he boarded a bus to boot camp.
There he met Nathaniel. Jack knew right away things would not be easy for the other man. Nathaniel was too soft, too sweet. Too obviously didn’t belong in the ranks. It took four weeks of bullying and abuse before three of the recruits beat him so severely he couldn’t stand afterward. The officers knew who the perpetrators were but they weren’t about to discipline them. They’d encouraged the behavior after all.
That was the year before Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was signed by Clinton. Which changed absolutely nothing. Soldiers had always been gay and just kept their fucking mouths shut about it. This was just another politician trying to seem like he was doing something when he actually wasn’t doing shit. Nothing new.
And then before Jack knew what was happening, he was in the sand trying to keep soldiers alive while they killed people for some fake patriotic bullshit that boiled down to who controlled the oil, as it always did.
He was at the end of his second tour when his leg got blown to shit. After he learned how to live without a piece of himself, he went to school to finish his medical training. That’s where he met his wife, Christina. She was a bright spot of light in the darkness that was the rest of his life. She smiled and he was gone.
It was Christina that told him what bisexual meant. Jack never cared much for labels but if he needed one, he supposed that one would fit. They got married on an Autumn afternoon with only those closest to them present. Three months after he made attending, she slid into a telephone on a rainy evening. She never even made it to the hospital.
Jack spiraled. That was a polite way to say it, he supposed. The term his mother used. His youngest sister said he went completely fucking mental. The elder told him to ‘go to fucking therapy or something’.
So, he did. He went to therapy. He worked. Then he worked some more. Sometimes he remembered to sleep or eat. Robby removed all the guns from the house. Made him check in on his nights off.
And just when he was certain he would drown in grief and misery and loneliness, he met you.
He wasn’t looking for you, for anyone really but there you were at the other end of the bar. Jack was two whiskeys deep and it took him a minute to realize that he was staring. He licked his lips. He hadn’t really been attracted to anyone since Christina. Not like this.
He didn’t dare approach you. What could an old, broken widower offer you? You had to be at least a decade younger than him, maybe more. No. He’d just admire from afar. Like a creep.
Jack sighed and ran a hand down his face. Fuck. What was he doing? He needed to finish his drink and go home.
“Rum and coke,” a sweet baritone said from beside him and Jack startled, quickly removing his hand from his face.
And there you were, smiling at him like you were old friends.
“I’m sorry?” Jack asked.
“Rum and coke. It’s what I’m drinking, if you wanted to buy me one.” Your smile widened and a sense of déjà vu swept over Jack as he remembered meeting his wife all those years ago.
He hesitated a moment before nodding and signaling the bartender. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to buy you a drink.”
By the time the two of you separated for the night, Jack had your number and you had the promise of a date for the following Friday.
Things didn’t go smoothly at first. Not even close. But Jack was upfront about his past, his wife, his struggle to be open with his sexuality. “It wasn’t always that way,” he’d told you. “But it got beaten out of me by my father and the Army. Just…be patient with me, please.”
So, you were, because you’d learned right away that Jack was worth it. His dark days, his nightmares, his hesitation at times, were offset by the gentle love he showed you. When you were working overtime, he sent food to your job. He showed up at your door with rum, coke and no expectations when you had a fucking horrible day. And he never once acted ashamed or embarrassed when he was with you.
He held your hand when you walked in the park. Sat on the same side of the booth with you when you went out to eat. Kissed you goodnight on your stoop where anyone might see. All the worry, all the tension you still harbored, vanished completely the night he introduced you to his friends.
A work gathering, he’d said when he invited you. You’d dressed in jeans and a nice shirt and headed to the bar where you’d agreed to meet. It was only a short walk from your job so it was easy enough to change at work and head over. When you stepped inside, you glanced around until your gaze found Jack. He sat at a table with a tall man with a beard and a blonde.
Jack glanced up, his face lighting up when he saw you. He said something to his companions and immediately headed to greet you.
“Hey, baby,” he said as he took both of your hands in his. “Missed you today.” And then he kissed you for god and everyone to see.
You smiled against his lips, knowing he was doing it for you. Jack didn’t like overt public displays of affection. “Hi,” you breathed back.
He grinned and intertwined your fingers to lead you over to the table. “Everyone, this is my partner.” He then proceeded to introduce everyone in turn.
“Partner?” Dana asked with a lifted brow. “Most people just say boyfriend, Abbot.”
Jack huffed as he sat and pulled you down into the chair beside him. “I am not a boy. Partner will do for now.”
“For now?” Robby asked sounding amused.
Your ‘partner’ hummed in agreement and sipped his drink, placing his hand on your thigh. “It works until I can call him my husband.”
And if you choked on your drink until Jack’s friends joked about taking you to the hospital, well no one needed to know about that.