Chapter Text
He knows the route there like the back of his hand.
It's half past three in the morning, and by the time Robby reaches the old detached two story home. he's on his last few pints of gas, and his precious bike is practically thrown to the pavement of the driveway as he dismounts, not bothering with the kickstand. He gulps in a breath of air, but it doesn't feel like enough. Everything is closing in around him as he staggers up to the porch.
First he rings the doorbell. Then he's knocking. Robby is halfway through kicking the damn door open when a disgruntled Jack swings it open, leaning on his crutches as he looks up at the taller man.
"Do you know what fucking time it is? I—" Jack's voice trails off as Robby gasps in another breath, finally registering the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Shit. Breathe, brother. C'mon."
Jack steps aside as Robby stumbles inside, all but collapsing onto the floor as soon as he's through the doorway. Jack curses under his breath as he locks the door and makes his way over, crutches leaned against the wall as he sinks down to his level. Jack is quick to gently pry Robby's hands out of his hair, bringing them towards himself instead.
Robby grips at Jack's shirt like a drowning man at a lifebuoy, pulling Jack in until he's buried against his chest. Jack can feel him shaking as he inhales his scent, and immediately he wraps his arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer. The two of them end up curled together on the floor, Robby's larger frame covering Jack's, his head nestled under his chin. They stay there for what feels like hours as Jack gently runs a hand through Robby's hair, a soothing technique that he'd remembered the other man enjoys.
Robby's breaths finally even out, and the pain in his lower back is starting to register. He sniffles, finally shifting so that he can look up at Jack. He's expecting pity, but what he sees when he looks into the others eyes is nothing of the sort. Robby tries to pay no mind to the affection he can see there.
"I don't want to talk about it." Robby croaks out.
Jack lets out a soft huff. "You don't have to."
"Okay."
"Okay."
Robby sniffles, resting his head on Jack's chest once more.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
Jack's gaze softens further as his lips brush against the top of Robby's head, the gesture all too familiar.
"As long as you need."
It's nearing sunrise by the time Jack had managed to drag Robby upstairs and into bed.
His bed.
Jack is no stranger to having the other man near. Hell, this isn't the first time Robby's crashed in his bed. It's not the first time he's slept with the man, either.
It just feels different, today. Feels like it used to.
Jack brushes aside his thoughts as he turns over to face Robby, kicking the blanket up off of what's left of his right leg as he half-slings it over Robby's legs. His chest is against the larger mans back, an arm also slung over his body, keeping him close. Robby grunts softly before relaxing in his grasp, body losing tension as his sleep finally grows peaceful.
It feels just like it used to.
Robby isn't in bed when Jack awakens, just past 2 PM. He sleepily prods at the empty space before he jolts, awareness flowing through his body.
Robby could be hurt. Or worse, he left to go on his stupid suicide mission and there's nothing Jack could've done to—
The smell of breakfast hits him, and Jack feels the adrenaline crash down over him as he listens to the sound of what's probably Robby moving through his kitchen. A small groan leaves him as he reaches for his crutches, slowly making his way downstairs. He lets out a minuscule sigh of relief as he spots Robby nervously fidgeting in front of the stovetop, eggs and bacon sizzling on the pan. His gaze flicks down Robby's exposed legs before snapping back up to his back. When Robby spots Jack, he flinches, laughing nervously.
"Uh, it's the least I could do." he mumbles, grabbing a spatula to flip the food over. His hand is still faintly shaking, Jack notices.
He lets him do this for him anyways.
"No big deal, brother. Could've just ordered in."
Robby snorts, shaking his head. "You'd kill me if i didn't make your stupid fried eggs just the way I know you like them."
Jack's lip quirks up into a small smile.
"You make them perfect." He says softly, and Robby pauses for a moment to meet his eyes. He shakes his head, looking away. "You always have."
Robby blinks.
"Right. uh.."
He plates Jack's portion of breakfast, placing it on the counter behind him before he's cracking an egg into the pan, scrambling it for himself. Jack leans his crutches against the table as he takes a seat, lazily cutting into his food as he watches the movement of Robby's wrist while he scrambles his eggs.
He feels half bad as the other squirms in place, no doubt feeling Jack's eyes on the back of his head. On the other hand, he just can't help it. Jack has always had a staring problem, and Robby has always been a big man, ever since they met in med school and Jack had tried to get him to sign up for varsity basketball. Age had filled him out deliciously, the muscles of his pecs rounded out by the softness in his belly, leading out to strong quads and lean ankles. Jack stares until Robby's sitting in front of him, clearing his throat.
Jack snaps into consciousness, but isn't ashamed of the fact that he was staring. He just grins up at Robby before returning to his eggs, shoveling them into his mouth. Robby rolls his eyes, scooping up his own breakfast with toast.
"You'll get a stomachache." He murmurs, and now it's Jack's turn to roll his eyes.
"I'll live."
Robby smiles— really smiles, for the first time since he's gotten there, and Jack's breath hitches. He forces out a laugh, feigning amusement as he tries not to choke on his breakfast.
Jack is back at work the next week, leaving his house in Robby's capable hands. Only one of them was on sabbatical, after all, and Jack can't take forever off. The night shift feels a little longer without the benefit of being able to look forwards to see Robby at handoffs, though Jack knows he'll see him at home anyways. The shift passes by, thankfully relatively quiet save for an MVA and an emergency appendectomy. The drive home is just as quiet, the soft sound of music filling his car as he hums along to some old rock tune from the 90's.
The first thing Jack notices when he gets home after his shift is that the place is considerably cleaner than it was when he left. He can hear the laundry machine and dryer running simultaneously, but other than that, it's quiet. The dishwasher is filled, though there's a dirty plate and some cutlery in the sink. There's a note on the microwave that just reads "FOOD. 1:35 MICROWAVE."
Jack sets the timer, sighing as the smell of dinner starts to waft through the room. He turns around to look for Robby, frowning when he doesn't spot any lights on in the bathroom, or upstairs. Jack is about to call his phone when a the sound of a snore coming from the living room interrupts him.
As soon as Jack pokes his head in, he's greeted by the sight of Robby laying sideways on his couch, throw pillow clutched to his chest. His hair is messy from where it had been rubbing against the arm of the sofa, blanket half-heartedly thrown over himself as an afterthought, barely covering his legs. He's wearing an old McGill sweatshirt (Jack's) and a pair of boxers (his), and Jack can just catch sight of the thatch of hair leading down from his bellybutton into his boxers. Robby lets out another snore, louder than the last one, his grip on the pillow tightening. Jack is mesmerized, leaning against the entryway to the living room.
Fuck.
He hasn't really seen Robby like this in years. Guard down and relaxed, doing something other than the job that's been slowly killing him. Jack frowns at the thought as his eyes catch on the small string of drool connecting Robby to the couch.
Beep.
Beep.
BEEP!
Jack's head snaps towards the microwave, cursing as he limps over. He flings the door open to stop the shrill noise, but it's too late, Robby already grumbling and shifting in the living room. He curses again under his breath, pulling out the hot plate and dropping it on his counter as Robby sleepily walks into view, rubbing at his eyes before slipping on his glasses. Jack looks up sheepishly, pulling out cutlery. On his plate is a healthy serving of jollof rice with a side of grilled chicken and fried plantains.
"Been a while since I've cooked for anyone. Sorry if it's…" Robby trails off, gesturing towards the plate and shrugging.
Jack quickly shakes his head, shoveling a spoonful of rice into his mouth.
"No! 'S good!" He manages to say around the mouthful, and Robby shudders playfully as a piece of rice flies out of his mouth. "Tastes the exact same as you used to make with Millie."
Robby tenses, and Jack cringes as he swallows.
"That's not what I—I meant the food, you guys were always good at this stuff." Jack finishes lamely, avoiding Robby's eyes. "You guys were always.."
Jack looks away, shoveling another mouthful of rice into his mouth so that he could avoid talking about… this. Whatever the hell this is. He avoids looking at Robby, up until he sees him leave through his peripheral vision. All that's left to accompany Jack through dinner is the sound of Robby's footsteps on the stairs.
Then it's quiet.
Jack doesn't go to bed after dinner. He doesn't consider it, not until he's drifting in and out of consciousness in an armchair in the living room.
A heavy sigh, and then he's sitting up, pulling his prosthetic back on before tackling the stairs. He walks right past his room, and he's about to pull open the guest room door before—
"Jack?"
Jack freezes, turning to look back at Robby, who's standing in the doorway to the master bedroom.
"I'm just— I didn't want to bother you—"
"Come to bed."
Jack tenses, eyes meeting his.
"Jack. Come to bed." Robby urges again, and Jack's shoulders droop as he limps into the bedroom, all but collapsing down on the mattress.
Through the arm he has thrown over his forehead, he can just barely see Robby standing in front of him. He watches him as he kneels down, releasing Jack's prosthetic. As he feels the gentle brush of lips against his knee, Jack tries to sit up, though a warm hand on his torso stops him. Robby places his leg against the bedside table, before turning back towards the other.
Robby looks down as Jack rests both elbows on the bed, meeting his gaze.
The two of them stay like that for a moment, frozen in time as each tries to come up with something to say.
Finally, Robby glances down at the bed.
"I think you need to move over, brother."
Jack's face flushes immediately as he shimmies to the side, his head meeting the pillow.
"Right. All yours."
Robby gently climbs into the bed next to Jack, stretching himself out before turning to face the other. He raises an arm.
Jack scoots closer, and Robby Pulls him into his chest, arm wrapped around the other.
Soon enough, Jack is snoring into Robby's chest as Robby stares over his head and into the wall.
It's the best Jack's slept in a long, long while.
When Jack wakes up the next morning, Robby's still there.
Robby's still there.