shadeofthetrees
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“I brought the oranges, coach.” Robby is wearing his mirror sunglasses that make him look cool, dangerous, and like he is trying a little too hard for a guy his age. Jack loves it.
He pats Jack on the shoulder and steps around to set up his lawn chair. He likes to sit a little off the sideline to have a good view of the whole field. He also likes to have a good view of his husband’s ass as he strides up and down the pitch. The weather is warming as Pittsburgh thaws into spring, and Jack unearthed athletic shorts from the back of the closet. It’s Robby’s favorite time of year.
Jack coaches his niece's peewee soccer team, the Jackalopes.
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Jack sighs. “No, man. I’m not your jailor. That’s not- Look, I will put you on my fucking back and carry you to the finish line. Your feet will never touch the ground.” He tips his head back and closes his eyes. “This is the part you have to do yourself. You have to walk over the line in your own shoes. But I’ll be at your side, okay? I won’t leave you behind.”
This is a recovery story
Series
- Part 2 of linear
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“All of this excess weight puts you at increased risk for heart disease, stroke, type two diabetes, and other metabolic syndromes. It’s past time to take action, Michael.” Dr. Fawcett sits on a wheeled stool beside him. Part of what Robby likes about her is that she doesn’t treat him like a doctor. It gives him permission to misunderstand or ignore the symptoms he should have clocked in his own body much earlier. Symptoms he would have noticed in patients immediately.
“Your BMI is pushing you into a danger zone. We need to talk about diet, exercise, and addressing the level of stress in your life. Too much cortisol and you’ll just be canceling out any lifestyle changes.” Her hands are cool and professional as she palpates his abdomen. Robby considers the ceiling while she finishes his physical exam. When was the last time he used BMI in his treatment of a patient?
Message received: he has to lose weight. Doctor’s orders.
Series
- Part 1 of linear
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Around six in the morning, Ellis expertly places a chest tube in a thirty-seven-year-old stabbing victim, and when Jack leans over to inspect it, he is staring straight into the jagged, bloody hole in Private Milton's ribcage. The lights in T2 flicker and Jack can hear the whip of heavy canvas walls as a brutal storm rips across the desert. Milton is the one Jack had no chance of putting back together but he still tried. Fifty-five minutes of rapid infusion and internal cardiac massage and then he had called it, Milton's flat, empty heart in his hand.
Jack doesn't flinch while looking into the abyss of flesh and bone but he does lie to Ellis. "Looks good. Monitor the output, grab me after CT or if he goes south."
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"Well. As far as cries for help go, it's a bit rough." Jack is staring at the old, dusty motorcycle in front of him. He’s not sure if he would feel more charitable about the thing if he’d known it would be here when he got home. "And for a mid-life crisis sports car, it's missing two wheels. Hope they sold it to you for half the price.”
Two ER physicians allow a donorcycle into their home? Sure, Jan.
Recent series
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- Words:
- 12,670
- Works:
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- Bookmarks:
- 7
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"Whatever this was, it wasn’t an emergency." - Michael Robinavitch, having a medical emergency.
"This fucking guy." - Jack Abbot, leaving his shift to go get him.
Bookmarked by shadeofthetrees
16 Jan 2026
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“Can I help? Please, I want— Let me help.”
It’s all too much, but his last three words prove to be Robby’s tipping point, pushing him finally and fully over the edge.
Desperate, jerky, he nods against Jack’s shoulder. He just barely manages to choke out, “Please,” and, “I’m so sorry,” before Jack shushes him.
“Don’t be sorry,” Jack says on repeat. “Don’t you be sorry, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay, I got you, brother, alright? Neither of us is going anywhere without each other, I can promise you that.”
or: robby contemplates taking his own life after his last shift before his sabbatical. jack sees right through him.
Bookmarked by shadeofthetrees
14 Jan 2026
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It’s the first time they’ve ever hugged, the two of them. Which is very strange, if you think about it. They have keys to each other’s houses, they’ve handed each other scalpels and beers and sleeping pills, Jack’s popped Robby’s shoulder back in its socket for fuck’s sake - but they’ve never hugged. And Jack hadn’t realized that, until this very moment.
Series
- Part 10 of Springsteen x The Pitt
Bookmarked by shadeofthetrees
07 Jan 2026
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Darnell nodded, glancing over Robby like he was trying to place him in the hierarchy of important to ignorable and it could go either way. "What's this?"
"MSF FNG," Jack shot back. Whatever that meant, he sounded amused.
Darnell scoffed and looked to Robby, expression going decidedly unimpressed. "Oh, yeah? You here to find yourself? Have an adventure? Do something hard?" he asked, each question more mocking than the last.
And there was that question again, like it was haunting Robby. He stifled his instinct to bite back and kept it simple: "I'm here to help."
Bookmarked by shadeofthetrees
06 Jan 2026
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When Robby showed up on his doorstep with some pretty good beer in tow, well, Jack didn't have the blood sugar reserves needed to stop him from making rash decisions.
Bookmarked by shadeofthetrees
03 Jan 2026