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Jack finishes his shift and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t handover to Robby for the day shift. It’s Al Hashimi in his place, nodding along to his notes on the remaining patients, and that’s what finally makes Robby’s leaving feel real.
Their quick goodbye when Jack clocked in didn’t, but Robby’s absence really knocks it home. The realization is a shock, and leaves a bitter taste in his tongue, because it’s going to be different, moving forward, and Jack is going to miss him for the next three months, and —
And more than anything, Jack only got a half assed goodbye as Robby was leaving for his dinner date. With a woman he’s known for a few months, and who doesn’t know Robby as well as Jack does, and who will get hours with Robby where Jack only got minutes.
It stings, and puts Jack in a dark mood, which in turn makes him feel stupid for hoping, because Robby’s priorities have always been crystal clear between them, and Jack should have learned to stop wishing a long time ago.
The spiral follows him all the way home, heavy and embarrassing, and he has to blink it away when he finds Robby waiting for him outside his apparent building. He’s wearing a light leather jacket though there is no helmet in sight, and Jack has to fight down another spiral over that. Has to fight harder the relief washing over him at seeing Robby in the first place.
Robby straightens once he spots Jack. He steps aside to let Jack unlock the door, and Jack leads him inside pretending that he’s cool with this, that he knew he’d find Robby here after his shift all along.
Jack didn’t, and he wants to ask Robby why the hell he’s here, but the embarrassment over how much he wants Robby still feels sharp, and his pride refuses to make this easy for either of them.
They ride the elevator in silence. Robby waits a step behind Jack as Jack opens the door to his apartment, and shuts the door quietly behind them. Jack shucks off his things and makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge.
Robby’s shed the jacket when he joins him, taking a seat on one of the stools in Jack's breakfast island. He’s barefoot, and Jack's eyes linger on how his toes curl around the metal footrest.
“I thought you were leaving tonight,” Jack says, finally, giving in first because that is how it usually goes. He takes a sip from his bottle, the beer foamy and cold in his mouth.
“I was,” Robby says. He picks at the label on his own beer, eyes stuck on the peeling paper like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“But?” Jack prompts.
Robby shrugs. It looks tight, a little forced. “I changed my mind,” he says. He tears his eyes away from the beer bottle and settles them on Jack instead, heavy and piercing, and Jack wishes Robby had just kept fiddling with his label.
“Why?” he presses, partly just to do so, to be a dick, but mostly because he wants to know -- needs to, despite all these years, to know that he’s got the same kind of pull on Robby as Robby has on him.
Robby looks away, blows out a sharp breath. “You know why,” he says.
Jack takes another sip, too big for his mouth. “Tell me anyway,” he says.
Robby shakes his head. His leg is bouncing on the bar stool. Jack feels like this is one of those moments that he often gets with Robby, where if he pushes just right, Robby will come all undone for him. If he misses, Robby will shrug the moment off and bolt, and Jack will be left without even these scraps.
Jack is too aware of this, more so tonight than any other night, and Robby will fuck off on his bike for three months, and Jack, if he can get nothing else, wants his scraps. He crosses the space between them, his prosthetic biting a little after so long on his feet, and stops just short of touching distance.
He leans into Robby’s side, close to his ear, and makes his voice soft and quiet. “Tell me why you changed your mind.” This close, Jack can hear Robby’s breath, his shaky inhale.
“Wanted to say goodbye,” Robby says, just as quietly.
The admission feels -- minimal. It’s an understatement. It still makes Jack’s heart beat hard and fast in his chest.
Robby is still holding himself so tightly. Fidgeting with the peeled off label and refusing to look at Jack. Up until an hour ago he was going to leave with a perfunctory hug in the ER, and some texts to get him through his roadtrip. And that stung. Jack doesn’t feel like making it easier on him.
“What does goodbye look like?” he presses.
Robby blows out a breath, pushes his beer away. “Fuck, Jack,” he huffs, annoyed now, at having to say it outloud or at Jack pressing harder than he normally would, or maybe at both.
Jack takes another sip and puts his bottle down, half empty. Crowds up to Robby, his chest pressed to Robby’s shoulder, finally touching him, courage or incentive for Robby to finally say it.
Robby takes a deliberate breath and swivels his stool around until they’re facing each other. Like this, he has to look up to meet Jack’s eyes, just a little, and Jack can see how tired he looks, his eyes bearing the worst of it. Then they dip down to Jack’s lips and darken, and suddenly he looks not tired at all, looks hungry instead, in the split second Jack gets to look before Robby’s standing up and kissing him, hard from the start, his tongue dipping into Jack’s mouth and his hands reaching out to steady him.
Jack gives himself a single moment and then kisses back, fingers threading through Robby’s hair to guide him where he wants, teeth grazing Robby’s lips in that way that makes Robby gasp wetly. Jack presses him backwards, uses his weight to get Robby pressed up against the kitchen island and keep him there.
Robby makes this choked sound into Jack’s mouth at being shoved around, not quite a moan yet, but Jack knows he can get him there. He runs his hands down Robby’s chest to grip at his hips and bring their bodies flush together, and Robby arches into him, clutching at his arms and trying to pull him closer.
“Did you fuck her?” Jack pulls back to ask, the question mumbled against Robby’s lips.
Robby huffs and tries to kiss him again, but Jack pulls back.
“You taste like you did,” Jack says, matter of fact. “Or ate her out, at least.”
This close, Jack feels how Robby jerks at being caught. Gets to see his cheeks turn a deep red. Robby doesn’t answer him, but he doesn’t look away either; a challenge.
Jack can taste it on him, can taste her, and it stings, even though it has no right to, Robby hasn’t given him that right, but that part stings worse, so Jack doesn’t linger on it.
“But you wanted to say goodbye,” he murmurs, soft now, mostly to himself.
“I did,” Robby says. His voice is soft, too, softer than Jack’s. He leans in again, gentle this time, his lips brushing lightly against Jack’s. Jack doesn’t want that right now, doesn’t think he’d be able to stand it, Robby going gentle on him because he can tell Jack was hurt, or worse, jealous.
He deepens it, kisses Robby deep and wet like that’s going to make his heart feel any smaller in his chest. It doesn’t, but at least Robby’s mouth stops tasting like pussy, and Jack can pretend he isn’t Robby’s second house call tonight.
Jack keeps kissing him, his mouth and then his jaw, when they’re both breathless; his neck because he knows that will make Robby buck into him, and it does, his dick starting to get hard against Jack’s. Jack lets his teeth graze the soft skin there, allows himself that, because Robby is leaving, and Jack won’t see him for three months, but he’ll at least get to see the bruises he leaves on Robby’s neck before that.
“Jack,” Robby says, maybe a protest, but he leans his head to the side and gives Jack space, makes quiet, choked sounds as Jack moves from his neck down to his collarbone, as far as Robby’s t-shirt will let him.
Jack drags his teeth over the skin there, too, and that has Robby rocking against him, his dick hard and hot through his jeans. “Bed, come on,” Robby says. He sounds fucked out already, and when Jack pulls back, he looks it, too, face red and lips bitten and wet.
It makes Jack’s stomach go all tight, his dick press uncomfortably against his scrubs, and he nods, because goodbye to him doesn’t look like a quick fuck against his breakfast island.
Jack leads Robby to his bedroom with loose fingers around his wrist, even though it’s unnecessary, even though Robby has been to his bedroom plenty of times by now, even though he wouldn’t usually, but he doesn’t want to waste a single minute by not touching Robby.
He’d feel -- ridiculous, maybe, unbalanced, if Robby didn’t seem to be right there with him, hands impatient and constant as he tries to get Jack naked. They pull away long enough for Jack to pull his scrubs off his head, and then Robby’s mouth is back on him, working on his neck, more careful than Jack had been, more conscientious even though Jack doesn’t care, even though he’d get happily marked up by Robby and wear it to the ED hours later.
It still makes his heart thump hard in his chest, blood flowing straight to his dick, and then Robby’s getting to his knees, and Jack’s feel weak at the sight. Robby looks up at him, holding Jack 's gaze as he leans in to mouth at his dick through his scrubs. His mouth is wet, hot enough that Jack can feel it through the layers of fabric.
“Fuck, Robby,” Jack curses. He cups the back of Robby’s neck and holds him there, pressing his dick into Robby’s panting mouth. “You look so hot,” he says, that’s what makes Robby’s eyes finally flutter shut, a quiet moan vibrating against Jack’s erection, like the acknowledgement is what finally embarrassed him.
Robby slips his fingers into Jack’s bottoms, drags them down far enough that Jack's dick slips free. He leaves the fabric bunched up around Jack’s thighs and leans in to take him into his mouth, too much too fast, Jack’s dick hitting the back of Robby’s throat and Robby choking, quiet splutters that make Jack’s body run hot. Robby is not playing it up either, Jack has been on the receding end of Robby’s mouth enough times to know by now, but he genuinely looks desperate for it.
Jack isn’t any better, and in between one thrust and the next, he gets this absurd thought: Robby’s mouth tasting like his dick, Robby driving back to his flavour of the month's place after this, and kissing her, and would she be able to tell.
It’s vibrant, and hot, and hits just intensely enough to make Jack mean. “Gagging for it, Mickey,” he mutters, breathless enough that it shouldn’t land, but the observation makes Robby choke anyway.
He pulls back, looking up at Jack with shiny eyes and dark lashes, and Jack feels like such a dick. Robby seems to always bring it out in him, and it’s confusing as hell, because when Jack thinks about Robby and thinks about how he feels for Robby, being a dick doesn’t even make the cut for the top five.
He forces himself to breathe, slow it down. Nudges at Robby’s shoulder until he sits up and then kisses him about it. He reaches between them, presses his palm against Robby’s dick, and Robby makes a soft sound and moves into it.
“I wanna get my mouth on you,” Jack says, because this is what goodbye looks to him: Robby’s scent in his nose and his taste on Jack's tongue, and just — Robby, everywhere, in the hopes that it will be enough for Jack to hold onto it until next time.
“Yeah.” Robby nods.
Jack sits on the edge of the bed, spreads his legs for Robby to step between. He pushes Robby’s t-shirt up, just enough that he can kiss at the fuzz on his stomach, and then kisses lower, Robby’s hip and the skin above the waistband of his cargos.
“Jack,” Robby just says. He sounds a little pained, and yeah, Jack doesn’t want to tease either of them tonight.
He pushes Robby’s cargos down and takes his dick into his mouth, moans softly because it’s just Robby that he can taste. Jack doesn’t bother swallowing his spit down, makes his mouth wet and hot for Robby to fuck into, tries to fit all of him and using his hand on what he can’t.
Robby’s breathing hard above him, hips jerking when Jack pushes himself too far. He curses when Jack swallows around him, and that’s hot, that Jack knows how to get him there just right. Jack does it again, and Robby’s fingers thread through his hair, encouraging for a moment before stilling him.
“Okay?” Jack pulls back to ask. His voice comes out rough.
“Yeah, I just--” Robby cuts himself off.
“What is it?” Jack presses a kiss to his hipbone, lets his teeth dig in.
Robby’s skin breaks into goosebumps, Jack can feel it against his cheek. “I wanna feel you,” Robby says.
The admission makes Jack's stomach all tight. He clears his throat, nods too many times. “Yeah, okay.”
Ronny steps back and pulls his clothes the rest of the way off. Jack follows, makes quick work of his pants and snaps the release off on his prosthetic. He crawls over Robby on his bed, his arms on either side of Robby’s face, caging him in, just for Jack. Robby spreads his legs and makes room for him, wraps his arms around Jack and pulls him in.
They kiss, slower now, less frantic. Robby pushes up against Jack and Jack rocks his hips down, a stuttered rhythm building up.
“Jack, I--” Robby starts, voice dropping off again.
Jack kisses his neck, drags his stubble over the sensitive skin. “Tell me,” he prompts, and means it, because he’d give Robby a scary amount of anything right about now.
Robby tilts his head back, giving Jack more space. “Fuck me,” he says, his voice cracking halfway through it.
Jack gentles his lips even more, because he’s cruel with Robby sometimes, but not like this, and he’s angry, but more at himself than Robby. “Of course,” he says.
Robby breathes out. His body goes loose and easy beneath Jack’s, and Jack hadn’t even realized Robby was tense. Wonders, where he misstepped, and made Robby think he couldn’t ask. Wants to try to never do it again.
Jack stretches over Robby to wrench the nightstand drawer open, fishing blindly for the lube because he doesn’t want to stop touching Robby. He pulls back just long enough to get his fingers slicked, keeps kissing Robby as he trails them up the inside of his thigh.
Robby’s legs part a bit more, and he gasps softly when Jack touches him, just his thumb first, rubbing circles over his rim. Jack kisses his jaw, keeping his touch light and teasing until Robby’s pressing into it. He dips the pad of his finger past Robby’s rim, the slide easy and wet, and Robby moans. Robby threads his fingers through Jack's hair and pulls him into a kiss, hard and panting, and Jack can feel every single one of Robby’s noises, swallow them down and keep them forever.
Jacks works him open slowly, gentle in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever bothered to get before, in a way that neither of them have, and the realization only makes his chest feel tighter. He doesn't want to linger on it, not right now, and he curls his fingers inside Robby just right because Robby's body is nothing if not familiar. Listens how it makes Robby gasp and arch into it, his dick hard and wet where it’s pressed between them.
“Jack,” Robby breathes, wrecked already. It makes Jack dizzy with want. “Come on,” he says.
Jack pauses, because Robby is sweaty and hard but he feels so tight still around him. But he’s holding onto Jack tightly, his eyes shiny, and if Robby wants to feel this after then Jack won’t force him to admit it.
“Yeah, okay,” Jack says dumbly. He reaches for the nightstand again, but Robby’s fingers close around his wrist.
Jack's lips part on a question, but he can’t get the words out.
“I’ve been-- safe,” Robby says. His face gets impossibly more flushed. “If you…” he trails off, shrugging awkwardly.
Jack shakes his head. Not refusal, just confused. He doesn’t know what to do with Robby tonight, with all that Robby’s giving him. With all that he’s going to take from Jack when he leaves. He doesn't want to mess it up.
He looks at Robby waiting for a response, squirming like the silence is killing him, and shuts the drawer.
“We can, yeah,” Jack manages. The words feel thick in his throat.
Robby breathes, more tension bleeding out. Jack wonders where he’s got it all saved up.
Robby shifts back so he can roll over, and that finally jerks Jack out of his thoughts. He puts a hand on Robby's hip, stilling him.
“Like this,” Jack says, voice so low he hardly recognises it, because if Robby wants Jack to wreck him tonight, the least he can do is let Jack see himself do it.
Robby nods, easier than Jack thought. He settles back and watches as Jack slicks himself up, enough lube that it drips down between them and makes a mess. He sucks in a breath when Jack presses against him, seems to hold it in his lungs until Jack leans down and kisses him again, and then he breathes out. Robby goes all soft and pliant underneath Jack, and makes a soft noise as Jack starts pushing inside him.
Robby is tight, and Jack goes slow, slower than he’s ever bothered to, probably, drinks in Robby’s sharp breaths and the way he shakes all over, nails digging into Jack's shoulders the whole time.
“Fuck, Mike,” Jack mutters. Robby feels so tight around him. “You gotta relax for me,” he says. He kisses Robby’s cheek and slips a hand around his dick, slick now from the lube dropped all over them.
“Let me in so I can make you feel good,” Jack goes on, his lips pressed to the skin behind Robby’s ear.
“Jack.” Robby makes another one of those sounds, the ones that will haunt Jack way past tonight, and his body untenses. His legs fall open wider around Jack and his nails stop feeling quite so sharp, and Jack can feel himself slipping deeper inside.
It still feels like it takes forever, until Jack can feel Robby’s ass against his hips, and he has to pull pause for a minute, try and catch his breath.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You feel so good,” he says.
“Yeah?” Robby asks, and it’s -- it’s not dirty at all, the way he says it. Not like he’s goading Jack into telling him how tight and hot he feels, just to hear it, or to have something to fill the silence. His voice is small, and he’s looking up at Jack with red cheeks and dark eyes, more vulnerable than he’s ever let Jack see him. Asking like he needs to know.
It’s more devastating than anything else Robby has asked tonight.
Jack pulls back, just a little, pushes back in again and gets to watch Robby’s eyes flutter, his lips parting silently in pleasure. Jack buries his face in Robby’s neck, his turn to hide. “Yeah, baby,” he admits, and his voice is rough and shaken, probably hiding absolutely nothing. “You have no idea.” He kisses the sensitive skin there, working it between his lips even though it’ll bruise up.
Robby tilts his head back and moans, his legs guiding Jack into a gentle rhythm. He replaces Jack's hand on his dick with his own and gasps the next time Jack thrusts into him, better now with more balance, and Jack zeroes in on that spot and works his dick over it until Robby’s shaking and muttering Jack's name.
Jack is shaking, too, and Robby does feel good, around him and underneath him, and in Jack's bed calling his name, and Jack doesn’t know how much longer he can go. “Come on, baby,” he says, “I wanna feel you come on my dick.”
“Jesus, Jack,” Robby gasps, either at Jack's words or Jack moving inside him.
“Can you do that for me?” Jack presses on. He thrusts harder and that makes Robby jerk, his hand moving faster between them.
“Yeah, yeah.” Robby nods quickly, face red and brows drawn tightly. “I’m close,” he manages.
“Let me feel it,” Jack says. “Be good for me and let me feel you come.”
“Oh, fuck,” Robby curses. His eyes squeeze shut and he throws his head back, his body growing impossibly tighter around Jack. “Please don’t stop,” he says.
Jack’s hips falter, just for a moment, just from Robby’s words. He’s so close, he’s been close since Robby got on his knees, but he gets it together enough to hold off, just for a bit. “I won’t,” he says. “I got you, come on,”
He keeps his hips moving just right, his dick dragging harshly and constantly into Robby, and Robby curses again and comes, stripping Jack’s chest and calling Jack’s name, rough and shaken, and that’s what tips Jack over, too, has him spilling inside Robby almost right after.
They’re both breathing hard, coming down from it. Robby shifts just enough to get his hand free and wraps both arms around Jack, holding him close. Jack turns his head to kiss at the marks he’s left on Robby’s neck -- an apology, if he were a better man -- and Robby’s fingers stroke through his sweaty hair as if to say it wouldn’t be needed.
Sweat and come cool too quickly, and Jack’s dick softens inside Robby. He pulls back slowly, with the same care that he entered Robby earlier. Robby winces and stretches out his legs.
“Okay?” Jack asks. He collapses onto the bed next to him, miscalculates and lands just short of touching distance.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Robby says. “Just sticky.” His voice is different, and Jack misses it already, the open nakedness he got to have just minutes before. The distance between them on the bed feels unbreachable.
“You can take a shower,” Jack offers. Cringes at how insufficient it feels.
“Yeah,” Robby says, but he doesn’t move.
The air feels thick. Not for the first time, Jack wishes it could be easier between them. He doesn’t know who’s to blame for it, but it’s probably both of them, Jack because he wants too much and pushes too hard, and Robby because he doesn’t do well with either of those things.
“I didn’t fuck her,” Robby says abruptly.
Jack blinks. He turns his head so he’s facing Robby but Robby is looking resolutely at the ceiling. “What?”
Robby clears his throat. “You asked me, in the kitchen,” he explains. “I didn’t.”
“Okay,” Jack says. He knows he asked, but he’d been angry still then, trying to goad Robby into saying something harsh to match Jack's feelings. He doesn’t know why Robby feels the need to clarify now, when that has never been the case before. “Why?” He asks, which is not the question he wants answered, but close enough.
Robby shrugs. “I couldn’t.” He chuckles dryly. “I couldn’t get it up because all I was thinking --” Robby cuts himself off. He breathes out sharply and shakes his head.
His words land heavy and big, even half said. Jack’s heart is beating very hard in his chest, suddenly. They’re still not touching.
Robby starts getting up, and Jack can feel the moment slipping away from them, much like many others in the past. He reaches for Robby’s hand, clenching awkward fingers around his wrist.
Robby stills. Jack’s fingers don’t loosen. They tug, and each second feels long and cold. Robby settles back on the bed. Jack takes a breath. Moves closer. Their shoulders are touching.
“I’m glad you came to say goodbye,” he tries. It feels lacking, but Robby relaxes next to him.
There’s a long pause. “Me, too,” he says, and that’s just as lacking, but if anything, they’ve both learned how to read between the lines.