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It hadn’t been long since the last time Jack was in Robby’s place. Maybe a month or two. Long enough that he didn’t know what it looked like anymore, the man had a thing for rearranging his furniture on a whim. He does know it’s not supposed to look like a whirlwind on the mans coffee table with Whitaker stuck on the couch, staring at his laptop screen with heavy bags under his eyes, and breathing shallow enough if he were a patient, Jack would be worried about oxygen levels.
The door slams shut and Whitaker barely flinches. He mutters something that ends with an “ee” sound and is maybe a question. Jack wasn’t sure. He did watch the younger man sway on the couch and collapse back with an almost-whine. Like a puppet with the strings cut and nowhere to go. Jack winced at the sight and walked fully into the house.
Whitaker repeated the sound and it wasn’t until Jack got closer that he understood the word. “Daddy.” Whatever state Whitaker had fallen into, the comfort he needed was hundreds of miles away. It broke something in Jack’s heart. There wasn’t a lot he knew about Whitaker’s life back home, but he knew the relationship the man had with his family became strained once he left for college, left Whitaker unhoused for a few weeks before Santos took him in. At least now he had two places he could go if things got really bad.
“Hey, kid,” Jack said. He knelt in front of the couch, ignoring the strain it put on his stump and the prosthetic. “Sorry, I’m not him. How are you feeling?”
“Daddy?” Whitaker asked again. His eyes were distant, looking at Jack, but staring right through him. Jack sucked on his teeth. They weren’t gonna get anywhere with this. He groaned as he stood up and grabbed the blanket from behind Whitaker. The younger man huffed at the movement but didn’t do much more than that. It took a little coaxing to get him to lie down and let Jack tuck the blanket over him. He’d have to move the younger man again later, but Jack would worry about that when they got to that point.
Now, he turned his attention to the coffee table. The laptop had auto shut-off so Jack closed it. It took him a moment to look at the notes and understand the mix of cursive and print, but he got there and started organizing them, then the flash card. He made sure the whole thing at least looked neat and straightened.
“You gonna be okay here?” Jack asked, turning to check on Whitaker. He ran a hand through the curls and frowned at the grease. A shower would do the boy some good. “You gonna stay awake for me?”
“Where’s daddy?” Whitaker mumbled. He narrowed his eyes as he forced them open to look up at Jack. Jack’s ribs splintered as his heart tried to force its way out. The boy was fixated on comfort, on finding his father. There wasn’t much Jack could do to help with that. He knew how to help anyone through a panic attack, deescalate a situation, or subdue someone if that didn’t work. Jack had never been good with the familial trauma bit.
“I dunno, kiddo,” he sighed, “But, I’ll take care of you until Robby gets back. That sound okay?” Whitaker lightened a little at the mention of his partner. It helped lift a little weight off Jack’s shoulders as he watched the younger man burrow into the blanket at the promise. “Hey, remember what I said? Stay awake.”
“Stay awake.” Jack chuckled and lifted his hand from Whitaker’s head.
The kitchen wasn’t sparse and neither was the pantry. A welcome change from the times Jack would open the doors to anything in his best friends kitchen and find nothing but leftover take out. He needed something quick and easy. A can of tomato soup, some bread and cheese.
There were occasional snuffles and Whitaker calling out for his father again. Jack did his best to reassure the boy, but he could tell he was getting more agitated. Moving around and trying to sit-up. At least he listened when Jack told him off and made him lay down. Jack grabbed the utensils and shut off the stove, making his way to the living room as Whitaker sat up.
“Wh’re’s daddy?” he asked again. Jack sucked on his teeth as he sat on the couch and set the plate and bowl on the side-table.
“Well, I figure he’s back in Nebraska,” Jack said, “Not much I can do about that.”
“What?” Whitaker sounded immediately distressed. He’s shaking his head and staring at Jack with wide eyes. “No. No, why… Why’d he leave?”
“Wh—No. Whitaker, you left the farm. Right?” Whitaker nodded, still with the wide eyes and fat tears that threaten to fall. Jack couldn’t help himself as he reached forward and ran a thumb under his eyes. “Your father’s still back there.”
“No!” Dennis reeled back, a look of disgust and fear on his face. “I don’t want pa! I want daddy!” It clicked into place then. Not his father. Whitaker didn’t mean his father when he said daddy. Jack blinked, hummed, and flipped everything around in his head. The comfort he needed still have over half his shift left. Of course Whitaker meant Robby. It made no sense for him to mean anyone else.
“Shit,” Jack muttered as he reevaluated, “Sorry, kid, I didn’t realize. Your Daddy’s just workin’. He sent me over.”
“Oh. Why did he send you?”
“Um, ‘cause…” Jack scrambled for an answer. He knew a little about the BDSM scene, had to when him and Robby hooked up back when they both started as medical students at the PTMC. He’d looked more into it a little but had never actually delved into it beyond that. He definitely knew what it meant for Robby to be Whitaker’s daddy, though. “I’m your Uncle Jack.” He spat out. Sure, why not?
“You are?” Whitaker eyed him with a little suspicion. Jack nodded and shifted to pull out his phone. He held it up as he opened it and went to his and Robby’s last conversation. Whitaker grabbed the phone at the sight of the contact photo and his fingers found a spot between Jack’s He didn’t breathe as the boy read over there texts and slumped when he got to the last one.
“Okay,” Whitaker said. He fell against Jack’s side. Jack let out a long breath and reached for the soup. It had cooled down enough he didn’t need to blow on it. Whitaker opened his mouth the moment the spoon entered his line of vision and Jack chuckled a little. It didn’t take long for the bowl to get low.
“Mind holding it for me?” Jack asked. Whitaker nodded and wrestled his other hand from the blanket before taking the bowl. Jack reached over and grabbed the plate, dipping a corner of half the grilled cheese into the soup before holding it up for Whitaker. The boy chowed down on the sandwich just as much as the soup. Jack made him pause for a minute so he didn’t give the boy hiccups.
Once the bowl and plate were empty, Jack set them aside again. Whitaker dropped his arms and tried to snuggle close to Jack again. He laughed and pulled away, making Whitaker sit up.
“Wh…?” Whitaker blinked up at Jack as he stood. “Where you going?”
“I’m gonna take care of the dirty dishes your daddy left,” Jack said, “And take care of these. You wanna take a shower?”
“No.” Whitaker’s nose wrinkled at the idea. Jack shook his head as he grabbed the plate and bowl.
“Alright, let me rephrase,” Jack said, “Wanna go clean up for Uncle Jack and your daddy?” That made Whitaker light up and nod. The blanket was tossed off him as he stood and rushed toward Robby’s room. The man had a damn good shower in there, so Jack couldn’t blame him. Or maybe Whitaker wasn’t allowed to shower anywhere else. The idea made something curl low in Jack’s gut he shook his head to get rid of the thought.
“Um,” Whitaker said from down the hall where he’d poked his head out of the doorway, “Does it have to be a fast one?”
“Nah, kiddo,” Jack said, “Take your time.” Whitaker beamed and disappeared again. Jack smiled to himself as he got started on rinsing the dishes and filling the washer.
Jack hadn’t meant to forget. The whole fact about Robby enjoying being called ‘daddy’. It just never really worked with the tow of them; Jack not enjoying it and Robby may have gotten off from it, but they both knew it would be more satisfying if Robby had a different partner. Nothing bad for either of them, but definitely nothing exciting. Not that the sex had been bad or not good. Just not something they fit together well with when it came to that kind of dynamic.
Plus the whole thing Jack had about being submissive after his service.
This brought about a whole new playbook. The two never started anything again after that. Jack moved on (mostly) and married. Then lost her. Then got into a weirder situation with Robby and then Whitaker came along and made things even weirder. Neither Jack or Robby brought up the obvious feelings. Jack assumed it would have to be another thing to move on from, but it seemed clear to him Robby held enough space in his heart for two people.
Hell, Jack knew he held enough space in his heart for more. He’d never not love his wife. But he loved Robby. He had an inkling he could care about Whitaker in the same way too, once he got to know the man. Robby talked enough about him Jack knew a lot.
Approaching it would have to be done later. Maybe a week from now. That didn’t mean Jack couldn’t allude to anything, though.
He shut the dishwasher after throwing a pod in and started it. By the time he made it to the master bedroom, the shower was still running. If he strained his ears, Jack could hear Whitaker humming. He shook his head with a smile and stared at the unmade bed. He wrinkled his nose at the wrinkles in the sheets and blankets and stripped everything. It took a few trips to get them all to the laundry room and start a load. It took more to get new sheets and blanket.
By the time he had the bed made with clean everything, Jack wanted to collapse. He did just that and fiddled with his prosthetic before he set it off to the side with a sleeve. He fumbled with Robby’s side drawer, knowing the man still kept some wipes from when Jack used to stay over after his wife’s passing.
Sure enough, he found a packet and scrubbed his stump before tossing the wipe in the trash.
He sat up on the bed, grabbed the charger, and opened up to his Sudoku app. Jack managed to get through a few puzzles before he heard the shower shut off. A few minutes after, Whitaker stepped out of the bathroom, steam pooling in the air. Jack looked up and smiled at him. His hair still damp, bags still deep, but eyes a little clearer. Enough that Jack knew he’d at least be a little more verbal.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jack said.
“Hi,” Whitaker said. He shut one eye as he yawned and walked over to the bed. “Thanks, Uncle Jack.”
“No problem. Sometimes you need someone else telling you what to do, huh?” Whitaker blushed and nodded. He chewed on his lip as he stared at the blankets. His eyes flicked from the covers to Jack. It took him a moment to realize he was asking permission, or working up the courage to do so. Jack grunted as he shuffled to get under the covers. He lifted the corner for Whitaker.
“Thank you,” Whitaker mumbled as he climbed in. The lights were off in the room, windows open. It made a nice image, watching Whitaker get comfortable. Jack went back to his puzzle. He scrunched his brows as he hemmed and hawed to himself over the numbers. Until a hand tugged at the hem of his shirt.
“What d’you need?” Jack said. He took a moment to look away from his phone and down at Whitaker. The glassy look in his eyes returned stronger. No tears but with the way his lip pouted out, just a smidge, they might’ve been on their way.
“Daddy cuddles with me,” Whitaker said, “When it’s this bad.”
“Ah.” Jack set his phone down and shifted downward to lay his head on one of the pillows. Once he got situated, Whitaker pulled himself closer, one arm wrapped around Jack’s waist and the other between his head and Jack’s chest. Jack hummed and wrapped his arm under the boys shoulder and let it rest against his spine. He grabbed his phone with his free hand to keep working on his puzzle.
The feeling of Whitaker breathing next to him, the heavy head rising and falling on his own chest, calmed Jack down as well. He honed in on the feeling, on the breath’s, as he got through the rest of his puzzle. There were short snores coming from Whitaker and a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Jack smiled, took a picture, and opened his texts.