Robby, ever the gentleman, has a young twenty-something straddling his waist in the booth seat. Giggles erupt from the young man as lithe fingers scratch at the back of greying hair he's forced to shadow on a daily basis.
The attending only purrs at the attention.
Jack looks like he wants to flee the scene.
He fiddles with a glass dripping with condensation, toying with the napkin served with his drink. Discomfort is radiating from him at an immense speed.
When he catches Dennis' eye from across the floor, he sighs in reprieve, slithering away from the scene.
"You think he's jealous?"
"You think?"
And if Robby finally happens to notice the absence of his drinking buddy and happens to glance over at the pair mingling, no one would notice how his grip tightens onto the boy's thigh under the table.
Robby isn't used to thisâhis Omega crying out in pain from relentless cramping and all he can do is provide a warm weight to snuggle into. Denny has said he's tried everything on the market to mitigate his pain but everyone keeps saying the same thing, you just have to deal with it.
Of course he thinks that's utter bullshit and his sweet boy shouldn't be subjected to such divine punishment that can't be resolved by modern medicine. It feels like he's failing as a doctor, as a mate. But as soon as he starts to wallow in his own self doubt, Dennisâ keens are quick to change his scent to a more subdued worry.
Jack is used to this. His wife has a similar problem, so he grew to know all the tiny improvements in how he could make the struggles easier on her body. Peppermint extract, ginger tea, massaging her calves.
Robby feels a slight jealousy towards his husband when he demonstrates such a valuable upper hand, but is quickly discarded when their effects on Dennis only aid him.
He may have had to survive such distressing cycles on his own, but his two Alpha's are determined to ease his pain into nonexistence.
With his old ageâ"you're still young and spry, hon," as Dana rubs him on the back while he mumbles in testimonyâand prosthetic, he can't afford to do much heavy work beyond his hospital duties, hence the moving service.
Service is putting it lightly. It's more so he found a handmade flyer in the break room scribbled with packages and trucks advertising âNEED A HAND?â with tear-off tags at the bottom providing a number and email address.
Robby snuck up behind him while he was in a daze of contemplation, and put him out of his misery by gingerly tearing the paper off and putting it into his scrub pocket, âIt's okay to ask for help brother.â
Now, as he sits on his patio, a rare occurrence he hasn't done in years, he waits for the handyman he emailed. It was a courteous discussion, with him begrudgingly reaching out about moving a few pieces of heavy furniture, receiving a swift reply asking him for a date and time.
With his coffee going tepid, a red pick-up finally rattles down the street, rolling to a stop in front of his driveway.
Out steps Robyâs mousy intern in a wife beater and jeans littered in tears and scuffs.
He's irritated at himself for not noting the clues earlier: the initials D.W. in the sign off during their correspondence and the flyer posted in their shared workplace. But he really only worked with him ever so briefly, as their respective duties rarely allowed for any familiar acquaintance.
Clearly Whitaker wasn't surprised to see the nighttime attending, who now nursed a now unpleasantly cooling cup of caffeine. A shy grin adorned his face as the boy walked up to his porch, stopping shy of the stairs.
Up close, without his glasses, Jack could clearly see the difference of what a good night's rest leaves on the young resident. He merely raises an eyebrow, prompting Whitaker.
âSir, Doctor Abbotââ
âIt's Jack outside of work. And please come up.â
âSirâJack, it's nice to see you outside of work,â Jack can see the same front appear when doctors are approaching patients late at night, with his face plastered with an all too bright smile and attentive eyes. âI hope I can be of service to you. Iâuh saw what you requested when we talked.. and it's Dennis outside of work.â
It's comical that he's the supposed handyman with how he stumbles up the stairs akin to a newborn fawn.
After awkwardly dusting off the invisible grime on his jeans, he stands pin straight like he's bracing rejection.
But Jack can't argue about cheap labour, so he quiets his thoughts as he leads Dennis inside with the wave of a hand.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Jack finds Dennis on the abandoned eighth floor instead of Trinity. He takes Dennis in, and consequently learns a lot about the care and mating of bunny hybrids
Once their relationship begins to blossom into something.. more, Andrew begins to exhibit weird behaviors. One night while Dennis is decompressing from work, laying his complete body mass onto the gruffer man, he begins to doze off. Only for him to wake with his pointer and middle finger being gently chewed on.
"W'ah you doin' Drew?"
Andrew, looking entirely out of itâeyes glossed over in a way Dennis knows he's not lucid enough to register that this ain't the normâignores him and welcomes his index finger into the warm, wet heat of his mouth.
Dennis, seeing Andrew reduced to such a state of bliss, doesn't seem to mind all too much.
"We'll talk later."
When he wakes again a couple hours later, he finds Andrew totally knocked out with drool dripping from his entire hand.
Even though Dennis is readily becoming financially stable, he still loves to thrift. Jack would see him worm out of bed at ungodly hours in the morning, "it's ten Jack," and pack his tote bag with hand sanitizer, a water bottle, and headphones. He'd be gone for hours on end, only for him to come back looking a little more disheveled with arms of bags bulging with clothes.
He'd sit through Dennis' hauls over a cup of coffee and comment when Dennis was preening over his finds.
Once he tried to buy Dennis a new button-down but the first thing his boyfriend says is, "I could thrift this."
Dennis comes home one shift still covered in god knows what, and before he can put the key in the lock, Andrew stands still in the doorframe.
"Backyard."
He gets a thorough hosing down in frigid water, shaking like a leaf by the time a fuzzy towel is attacking his curls. Andrew's eyes soften the most Dennis has seen him capable of before he's pulled into a bruising hug.
"You got wet babe." He mumbles into Andrew's chest
HUCKLEABBOT I refuse to make a new acc so this may become a multifandom space.. inspo
Jack whose secretly obessed with ACNH and protects his Nintendo Switch with the care of a firstborn child. Enter Dennis whose given a key to Jack's apartment and finds said Switch on the coffee table, booting it up in fascination since he only ever shared a 3DS with his brothers.
There's only three games downloaded: Zelda: Breath of the Wild, a puzzle game called Unpacking, and Animal Crossing New horizons.
Jack comes home to find Dennis swaddled up on the couch, trampling his prized flower collection and rips the console from his hands, wordlessly shedding a single tear from the struggle of breeding the rare colors.
The air conditioning unit in the window is making a weird noise.
tick tick tick
An irritating noise that a supposedly brand new AC unit from Facebook marketplace shouldn't be making.
It drives him insane. Lucky for him his new neighbor is a handymanâbut it seems luck is not on his side when a man glistening from a sheen of sweat and a towel hung precariously around his waist, opens the door leaving him a stammering mess.
The man, he learns, runs his own companyâVerstappen Motorsâand easily agrees to see if he can fix his problem.
One âgimme me a minuteâ later and he's standing in front of his door in only a pair of loose sweatpants.
Oscar pries his eyes away as the handyman squats shamelessly in front of him, leaving him with a face full of ass to freely ogle at while he tinkers away at the sputtering machine.
âAll fixed, knock if you need anything else.â
He's sure his fridge was having some problems anyways.
1K | max/oscar | part of @omegaoscarficfest | explicit
Oscar could barely get a cohesive sound out before lips were smashed onto his. Body heat radiating from the alpha engulfed his space, and even through his rut-stricken haze, Max pinned Oscar to the mattress with delicate care. Now only lingering in his boxers, he felt like a pinned insect under careful inspection.
OR, how Oscar goes from overstimulating office lights to being overstimulated in bed.
a/n why am I motivated to write only when I work. ok have max whump. also this is not edited cause I am posting this mid dishes
The rain beat down on the pavement without remorse. Puddles were starting to flood the track, making him skid at speeds that left his stomach feeling queasy.
âAnother.â
âAnother.â
âShut upâyou already know the answer. Another.â
Asshole.
He didn't notice until he completely lost control of the kart, but when he skidded through a deep puddle that was steadily growing, the back wheels had already decided to give up.
The rhythmic drops fell without a care into the kart that tumbled onto its side with him buckled tightly to the seat.
âGet out, you're wasting my time.â
Jos didn't care that he spun out because of the weather, no he cared because his son spun out. And Max believed that. He believed it for the rest of his upbringing that he wasn't good enough, it was all his fault.
When his mom left with Victoria, it was his fault. It was his fault that he was karting and Jos was too focused on him.
It was all because of himself.
â
The moment Sebastian laid eyes on the seventeen year old, the only thing he could think of is, god he's young.
The second thing he noticed was how isolated the driver was. He would watch the rookie wander the paddock in a quiet hurry, as if he already knew where everything was. He didn't ask for help, he just navigated all by himself.
Himself.
Jos would shadow him in the garage, plastered on the back wall with headphones while scribbling in a book.
But that's the only person Max would surround himself with.
â
Spa didn't hold back, the downpour was relentless. Even on media day the clouds angered with the occasional thunder strike in the distance.
Seb was rounding the corner, on the way to escape from the horror of the media, when he heard a distressed grunt.
Max was bent down on his knees, mud covering every inch of his jeans and worn down sneakers. He was focused on the red had started to ooze from his palms that were trembling.
âJesus kidâare you alright?â
His head whipped around toward him, his eyes saucer-wide. He shrunk further into himself.
âYeah, I'm fine. Thank you though.â
Max clearly wasn't fine, the boy was lying through his teeth. âDo you have someone I can call for you? Um⊠your father?â
âNo, no. Not Jos. I canââ
He attempted to push himself up, scrambling to get away, but ended up in the arms of Seb. In turn, he was smothered in the same mud Max was sulking in.
âOh god, oh god, I'm so sorryâI can get you new clothesââ
âKid, kid. Relax. I'm not mad.â
The teenager was trembling in his hold as he instinctively tightened his hold on him.
Alright, the Lestapiastri A/B/O oneshot is out!!
Please everybody say thank you to @voiths who basically inspired the whole plot and helped me a lot while writing this <3
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